#anyways I never draw men or boys and like I’m enjoying it

[pinksepia]

🕸️🏎️Spiderkid 🏎️🕸️

[chelseypprimrose]

The Pre-College Bucket List / negan smith x reader (stepdad/stepdaughter)

Warnings ⚠️ : voyerism (someone asleep in the room), unprotected sex, cum swapping, blowjob, daddy kink, choking

Author’s note: think this might be the longest and dirtiest thing I’ve ever wrote and I had so much fun with this one, hope you enjoy! 🤍🫡 not proof read yet!

“Y/N! Can you chop those vegetables that are on the kitchen counter please?!” You sighed, rolling your eyes. Even in your last days at the family home, she was still expecting you to do mundane tasks. You didn’t even want this going away party she had planned for you, it wasn’t like you were going that far away anyways, only about a hours drive. More so, you knew the only reason your mom was hosting this party, so she could brag to her friends about how you had got into such a prestigious college. That’s all she ever did, never told you how proud she was of you, only ever posting on social media about it for validation from people over the internet. While you had gotten used to it now, it still stung more than you’d ever admit.

Opening the draw and taking the knife out, you started to chop the various vegetables that were in the bowl, daydreaming out the large window that showed the back garden outside. That’s when he came into view, your stepdad Negan. He’d been in your life for around the past two years, off and on again like a cringey sitcom drama. Him and your mother had broken up more times than you could count, always over some petty arguments, more so what teenagers would fall out about, never mind two fully grown adults.

He kept coming back though, each time, for what aspect of your mothers personality you didn’t know, it was no secret he was always in a mood with her, you recalled even once them managing to get into a argument during sex, over what you weren’t sure. It ended with raised voices, the threat of ending the relationship and the slamming of the front door quite dramatically by Negan.

Here he still was though, probably remaining because of your mothers crippling fear of spending her later years alone. You watched as he opened the large black grill, placing the charcoal into the bottom compartment, ready for cooking the various types of meat he’d purchased. His white t-shirt clinging to his toned muscles underneath, those damn red gym shorts he always paraded around in, even when he wasn’t working as the gym coach at your old high school. His hair slicked back with a small amount of gel, salt and pepper beard trimmed and neat as it always was. As bad as your heated thoughts were, you couldn’t help yourself. Boys your age just weren’t as attractive as the older men you’d come across in your life, boring.

Always the same pick up lines, always trying to hard to get into girl’s panties while offering nothing themselves, not even being able to give you the release you needed. Frustrated wasn’t even the word to begin to describe how most of your recent situationships had been.

His dirty mouth as well, always charming and funny, he’d make you laugh at the worst of times, so inappropriate but that’s what you liked about him. You continued on with your chopping, taking small and quick glances at his impressive frame when you could, now firing up the grill, the smoke rising. Looking down at the now finished cucumber, you reached out to grab the next bowl when you saw Negan’s arms reach to the bottom of his t-shirt, pulling it off in one motion, his slightly tanned and toned stomach coming into view, your eyes glued to his chest.

“Fuck!” You yelped out, the knife making a small cut on the side of your finger, blood flowing out the wound as you dropped the knife onto the counter. Negan’s head whipped around in your direction, taking large strides through the double doors into the kitchen. “You alright, Y/N?” He asked, placing his calloused hands over yours, slightly pulling you towards the kitchen sink, turning the cold water tap on. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine, I was distracted… wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing.” You slightly laughed, hoping he wouldn’t know the reasoning for your moment of ignorance. “Yeah, I gathered that.” Negan stated, a slight smirk coming across his face as he stared into your eyes. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away, holding his gaze as if it was only you two who knew why. “So many distractions around us in this world, wouldn’t you say?” That knowing smirk still plastered over his features. You nodded, not wanting to further embarrass yourself.

Later on, the party was in the second hour, all your friends and family in attendance, the music playing from the outdoor speakers. Most attendees were standing around, some laying on the sun loungers placed next to the big pool and bar that was next to your house. You had a red cup in hand, with wine spritzer, sipping every couple minutes, you’d had enough food that you were feeling tipsy but not out of control. You’d rather not end up embarrassing yourself at your own leaving party, giving the small town something to gossip about after you’d gone. Having small talk here and there with different people, you could hear your mother still boasting loudly about how easy you’d been accepted into the college to various colleagues you recognised from her work place.

“How are you enjoying your party doll?” Deep voice coming from the side of you, Negan coming into view from the peripheral vision of your eye. You smiled, taking another drink of your wine. “Good thanks, not the sort of party I’m used to. Kind of…” you trailed off. “Boring? Think the word your looking for, is boring.” You laughed, looking up at Negan as he raised his eyebrows comically. “You can’t say that! It’s rude.” Your words coated in sarcasm, even though you a hundred percent agreed with his observation. “I appreciate the effort from you and mom but I didn’t really want the big celebration, I’m not moving country, I’m moving a couple hours away. Not so much of a big deal.” You took a seat on the end of the linen sun-lounger, the grey matching umbrella blocking the sunset from your eyes. Negan followed suit, your knees brushing against each other.

“Yeah, well, I tried to tell her you’d be against the big show but I couldn’t convince her. You know she’ll take any opportunity to shit on what other people are doing.” You nodded along, showing your agreement in his statement. You couldn’t deny he was right, your mother would always have to be one above everyone else, a big pissing contest. You thought it was pathetic, just a fake mask to cover over her crumbling love life and how she hadn’t moved up the career ladder in the past ten years. You vowed to yourself you’d never let your life get that way, hard work and dedication would get you to where you wanted to be. “Anything you want to do before you head off to college doll?” You furrowed your brows at Negan’s question as he took another drink of his beer, you weren’t expecting it as it had nothing to do with your previous topic of discussion.

He noted the confused look on your face as he reached into the pocket of his shorts, pulling out a piece of paper with pink lines and heart boarders. Your eyes widened with shock, it was paper from your notebook. He opened it, the words coming into view. “Quite a extensive list, some really good stuff on here dollface.” He smirked, his eyes raking over your pretty, cursive handwriting. He started to laugh, “I could help you out with some of these you know?” You thought he was joking, looking at his face you knew he was serious. You couldn’t remember what you had written, how could you? You had wrote this list a couple months back when you had first got accepted into college. He winked at you before rising to his feet, walking inside to get another beer. You looked on at the surrounding people, he could help you? What did that even mean?

Later on, people had started saying their goodbyes, voicing their congratulations to you as they headed home. “Thank you for coming! I’ll see you on Monday in the office.” Your mother waved at the last couple to leave before shutting the front door, wine glass still in hand. “Hey, I’m not that tired yet, shall we stick a movie on?” Negan suggested, weird you thought. He was normally the first one to retreat to bed after one of your mums social parties but not feeling fatigued yourself you agreed. “Yeah sure but I’ll probably fall asleep, I’m quite tired.” Your mom stated, accompanied with a yawn. You rolled your eyes, more like she’d had too much wine and couldn’t handle it. You moved to the living room, grabbing the large blanket from the first couch, covering your body.

Your mom took a place on the couch placed on the other side of the room, lying down. Negan walked into the room with a small bowl of popcorn, placing it on the glass coffee table in front of the tv. Sitting next to you, he grabbed the remote, putting on some random chic-flick. You settled down, letting your body sink into the couch. Negan’s arm raised to the back of the couch, his fingertips just slightly touching your shoulder. You kept your eyes trained on the tv, feeling your heart beating at a faster pace than before. He started mindlessly drawing small circles on the top of your skin, you felt your core getting tighter with every small touch. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, trying to calm the wave of lust that was flowing over your body. Negan used his other hand to dig into his pocket, pulling out that list again, re opening it, placing it on his knee. “What about this one doll?” He asked, pointing to one of the lines you’d written.

‘Have sex next to someone asleep, fear of getting caught might make it sexier!’

Oh my god, you thought. You couldn’t even remember writing that one, thinking back to the day you wrote it, might have a couple too many drinks. You locked eyes with him, his signature shit-eating grin on his face. “I…um. I-I don’t remember writing that one.” You trailed off, trying to find any excuse to why you’d write something so taboo. Before you could think, Negan threw the paper onto the coffee table, his strong hands grabbing the bottoms of your thighs, lifting you up onto him, the feeling of his semi-erect cock digging into you. You placed your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, still in disbelief that this was happening.

“Remember when I said I could help you with this list doll?” He whispered into your ear, your face red with embarrassment. You slowly nodded, giving a small sound of agreement. “Do you want my help?” Negan inquired, his hands grabbing the round globes of your ass, emitting a slight whimper out of you at the rough touch of Negan. “Oh god yes, Negan please.” You softly spoke. “Gonna have to be quiet for me doll, wouldn’t want to get caught now would we?” Breathing heavily, your lips were caught by Negan in a deep kiss, your hands trailing from his shoulders to run through his hair. His hands gave another grab of your ass, more powerful, enough to leave red handprints.

“Shit doll, you don’t understand how long I’ve been waiting for this, you’re pretty ass parading around in this house, I can’t believe I haven’t gone fucking crazy.” He stated against your lips, his teeth coming down softly on your lower lip. You faintly moaned out at his confession, there was always some unspoken tension between you both, you just never thought it would come to this conclusion. You broke away from his kiss, fumbling to pull his shorts down to his ankles, lifting your lower half up to get them down successfully. His now fully erect cock gently slapped against his stomach, your hand coming down to smoothly wrap around the base of his cock, rubbing up and down. Negan let out a soft groan, his head falling back as he leaned into your hand, you made the move to the floor, up on your knees in front of him. “Oh shit honey, fuck, you are a dirty fucking girl.” He whispered out.

Your lips wrapped around his tip, peppering small kisses and kitten licks before you took it fully into your mouth, slowly working the top half of his cock. He opened his legs a little wider, allowing you to work further down as he thrusted his hips a little, causing you to gag ever so slightly. His shaft heavy on your tongue, the salty pre cum dancing on your tastebuds. A small trail of saliva leaking from your mouth, you felt your pussy getting slick with your juices, the ever growing danger of what you were doing turning you on more than you imagined.

A small creak caused your body to stop, a slight spark of adrenaline flowing through. Your mom had slightly moved from her sleeping position, turning to face the back end of the sofa. You waited for what felt like minutes, before you heard small snoring, affirmation to continue your illicit activity. Negan’s hip bucking ever so slightly, making his cock go further down your throat, you released him with a small pop, the gathered salvia making a bridge from his throbbing tip to your lips. Negan pulled you up, placing a sloppy kiss on your neck, regaining your position back on his thighs. “Shit doll, seeing you down there with a mouthful of my cock, fuck.” Negan mumbled against your neck, pulling your dress up and over your head, your arms reaching up to help.

Negan’s lips moved from your neck to the tops of your breasts, placing kisses while roughly grabbing them. The sensation alone causing you to feel tingles running through your body, he expertly unhooked the back of your bra, your breasts now free. He bit at your left nipple, sucking it slowly afterwards, his hands wandering from your breasts to your panties, pulling them to the side, exposing your pussy to the slight cold of the room. Goosebumps trailed down your arms and legs at the new feeling, the tip of his cock brushing against your clit. “You ready doll?” You enthusiastically moaned, grabbing the base of his cock to position it at your opening before slowly moving down, filling you inch by inch. You let out a moan at the fullness you felt, Negan’s hand coming up to grab your throat with slight pressure. “Fuck doll, those pretty noises are going to get us caught. You fit me like a fucking glove, so fucking tight.” Letting out a heavy sigh, Negan started to to move his hips, sliding in and out of you with slow strokes, filling you up even more.

Your hands met his shoulders again to steady yourself, your nails digging into them, a caught breath in your throat as the pressure on your neck got stronger. You met Negan’s thrusts, building in speed, strokes now hard and fast. “Shit baby, how’d you think your mother would feel if she woke up and saw you bouncing on daddy’s dick, huh?” You whimpered, the taboo nature of the whole situation caused you to grip your walls harder around his cock. “She’d be so upset daddy but you feel so fucking good inside me.”

“Damn right I do, doll.” You let out small breathless sighs, “Aw, is it too much for you to handle baby girl? Can’t take daddy’s dick as well as you’d like?” He taunted you as he thrust deeper into you. “No, I can handle it daddy. Fuck, you make me feel so fucking good!” You were getting so close, his cock coming into contact with your cervix it felt like. No one had ever made you feel this way, you thought you had died and gone to heaven. Negan could feel you clenching around his cock, knowing your release was close, he took his hand off your throat and began rubbing small, hard circles on your sensitive clit. You shallowly moaned and whimpered out, chanting daddy softly, your breath getting faster and shorter. “Go on baby, cum all over daddy’s dick.” You let your body go, your orgasm washing over your body, seeing stars behind your eyes. Body going limp, shaking as you rode out your high, the couch underneath you getting soaked with your juices, some coating Negan’s hand that was still playing with your clit.

The feeling of your orgasm caused a domino effect, Negan groaning as he came to climax as well, you felt the hot cum coating your walls, pulling out to finish, the last strips coating your lower abdomen. His fingers entered your mouth, tasting your release on your tongue, reigniting the fire you felt in your stomach.

You copied his motion, swiping the cum that settled on your naval, sucking off your fingers, the salty taste mixing with the aftertaste of yourself. Negan smirked, watching you intensely as your fingers came out of your mouth with a slight pop. A satisfied smile on your face, as you let your body flop down next to him, your mother still in deep sleep on the couch across the room. “Doll, I’m going to fucking miss you being gone, shit! We need to do that again sometime.” You giggled, bringing Negan into a kiss that showed him you felt the exact same.

[lilunaire]

TEASER 11 - CH.11 TIL WE BURN OUR SKINS

Yeah I know, a teaser, not the actual chapter. But, it's better than nothing right ? So today, here's a big teaser to compensate for this huge wait, and if it takes me more than two weeks to be fully done with the chapter, i'll drop another one. But chapter 11 should be there this october guys, and it's currently 62 pages and 26k words (and going!).

Enjoy ♡

(teasers below the line)

----------

“I think this guy likes you.”

Em-Jay’s voice pulls her out of her thoughts as she turns her head toward a group of young men, one of whom she knows has been staring at her for several minutes. The reason she’s ignoring him?

Gwen hated the 'canon', and she had good reason. As such, she tried not to judge people based on who they were. But sometimes it’s hard to put aside all your preconceptions about the people around you.

Especially when that person’s name is Eddie Brock.

So she ignores the fact that this was at least the seventh time he’d come to one of their show, that he never took his eyes off her when she performed on stage, or when she sat at the bar with her friends.

“So?”

… (little skip)

“So you should go see him and ask for his number. — Not interested, I pass. — Come on! He's come to see us at least five times, and every time he's looking at you. Take your chance! — I don't want to date a stalker. — He's not a 'stalker'…”

She didn't want to date Eddie Brock, period. Okay, there were worse things in the world. But being in a relationship with the person who had the best chance of becoming a symbiote host if they ever showed up on her Earth was probably not the best idea she could have. ---------- Their little hangout goes on more quickly than she had anticipated, and soon most of the people had either gone home or are sprawled out somewhere on the floor of the apartment. She is sitting on the floor too, her back to the couch, Em-Jay’s head on her lap, whose hair she absently strokes to gently ease her into a peaceful sleep.

She feels someone sit down next to her, but she already knows who it is anyway.

“So, did you enjoy the tonight? — It was pretty nice.”

She doesn’t elaborate further. She doesn’t feel as uncomfortable as before around him. In fact, he didn’t really seem like a bad guy. Maybe there really were exceptions in the multiverse after all. He holds two large glasses of water in his hand and hands her one.

“Here, drink this. I don’t know if you’ve been drinking tonight, but it always feels good.”

… (little skip)

She doesn’t know what made her change her mind: was it that more vulnerable side he had put on? The pictures of his adorable dog he had shown her? Maybe just the fatigue of the week that had simply fried a few neurons.

She doesn’t know if seeing the notification on her phone would have made her give a different answer. A 'Good night', from the boy she loved the most in the world, sent right at the time she usually sent an 'I’m going to bed', accompanied by a penguin emoji.

What is certain is that you can’t change the past, and that night, she said yes. ---------- Margo was currently using Gwen's phone, scrolling through Vine, an app that had been gone for years on E-22191. She could be heard laughing at various videos, punctuating the conversation regularly.

Well, that was until she gasped loudly, drawing everyone's attention, before saying not so discreetly “You have a date with Eddie Brock?!”. A sudden sound of glass breaking.

Silence fell heavily as she realized what she had just said out loud, but their eyes almost immediately went to a still surprised Gwen.

Aware that the others were waiting for a response, she stood up and went to retrieve her phone. She read the message, and sure enough, Eddie asked her if she was still up for this Wednesday night.

She stammered for a moment before she could come up with a proper response.

“Um, yeah. But it’s just a little date, nothing crazy.”

No one answers for the next few seconds, but she knows exactly what they’re all thinking right now. ---------- “I have a boyfriend.”

She rips the bandage off in one go. Miles doesn’t react at first, as if he didn’t hear, just stares at his Spider-Man mask in his hand. But the way he freezes is proof that her words have reached his ears. He stops playing with the fabric of his spandex, she even has the impression that he stops breathing for a moment.

“Miles? — So… you and Eddie? — Yeah, it’s official.”

He looks away, eyeing the crowd, the New Yorkers getting out of work. Some seemed in a hurry, others took their time. Parents were buying ice cream for their kids, students were buying their dinner for tonight at street stalls, elderly couples were feeding the pigeons.

“Are you mad at me? she finally asks when he still doesn't answer. — Of course not. — That's the impression I get, anyway…” ---------- Betty grabs her backpack with a little difficulty to take her water bottle and take a few sips, before putting everything down. She signals Gwen to resume the swinging.

“We talked a bit about everything, about what had happened to us since he left school… He told me he did a lot of therapy, and that it opened his eyes to a lot of things.”

Gwen doesn't answer, too many thoughts switching in her brain, as she reviews all the things that had happened a few years ago.

“He didn't say it explicitly but…”

The drummer looks up.

“I think Peter's death was a shock to him. — I wish he had one before.”

Betty looks away.

“Yeah, me too…” ---------- But no, instead she ruins everything, over and over again. She has distanced herself from the others in order to focus on being Spider-Woman, but still hasn't managed to get her hands on the heart of the criminal network that takes up all her time.

The sign says a three-minute wait time.

So this was her destiny? To be as useless as Gwen Stacy as she is as Spider-Woman? A burden in any skin, with any face.

Em-Jay says the subway is coming.

A bad friend.

Glory says to back off, just to be safe.

A lousy girlfriend.

Betty takes her arm when she doesn't back off on her own.

The worst superhero New York could ever have known.

[robo-writing]

hi, can I request headcanons for boys from ff16 when they are jealous of their lovers? I really like your headcanons so much, thanks for it!!❤️

This took me so long to do, I don’t have access to a computer rn so I had to type this on my phone, super weird experience. Anyway, hope you enjoy and I hope mobile doesn’t screw up the formatting! 🙏

Clive Rosfield

He tries to keep it inside but he’s not subtle at all. He’s in a foul mood, doesn’t respond like he normally would and gives you one word answers. He never takes his anger out on you, but watching strangers hit on you just makes him upset. (He’s NOT jealous, he’s just protective.) Trusts you but not other men.

You’re an attractive woman, he tells you as such every day, but to see men flock to you is a different story.

“What’s your name? I haven’t seen a pretty lass like you around here.”

You’re far too kind for your own good, entertaining their questions while Clive stands aside and brews in his annoyance. An ugly feeling rises through him as he watches the scene unfold, and his legs carry him without warning when one of them asks you if you have a man waiting for you at home.

Before you can answer Clive stands behind you, chest puffed out. “Yes, she does.”

The mans face contorts from laid-back to frightful, taking his leave at the sight of the much larger man at your side. You can’t help but laugh when you turn to meet his gaze, his eyes softening at the sight of you.

“Someone’s jealous.” You tease, smiling as you do. He doesn’t answer right away, leaning over you and placing his hands at your sides.

A smirk graces his features as he speaks.

“Jealous? You must be mistaken.” He rumbles. “That would imply he had a chance to begin with.”

Joshua Rosfield

He gets pouty, makes it known that he doesn’t approve but you make sure to calm him down, hold him close and reassure him that you’re not leaving his side, not now and not ever.

Perhaps a bit insecure, he can’t help but get upset at the latest man to try and vie for your affection. You shoo him away, but the amount of times you’ve had to do so makes him worried. What if one day you don’t send them away?

You walk over and see Joshua deep in thought, following his eyes they’re trained on the young man who was just talking to you.

You know him far better than anyone else, so when your eyes follow his line of sight it’s no surprise to you what your boyfriend is thinking.

You take his hand in your own as reassurance. “Joshua, you know you don’t have to worry, right?”

Your voice drags him from his thoughts. “I know love.”

His words and his body convey a different message, still staring off at the fleeting visage of the young man.

Sighing, with a shake of your head you open your arms, inviting him in for a gentle hug that he gladly takes. It’s as if the stress leaves his body the moment you hold him tight.

“I’m not going anywhere baby, that’s a promise.”

Cidolfus Telamon

Rarely gets jealous, but on the off chance he does it’s very obvious, and he doesn’t try to hide it either.

You and your fellow bearers are celebrating a job well done at Martha’s Keep, with Cid close by you, sharing in the merriment. When his glass runs empty he leaves you to go ask for a refill, in which time a young man takes his place next to you.

You two chat about nothing really, idle conversation, but you do talk for a while, which was enough for Cid to bring himself close to you as you spoke.

“Darling, you didn’t tell me you made a new friend while I was gone.” He says in a deep voice before turning his attention towards the young man.

A hand at your hips pulls you closer into his warm body, suddenly very aware that you are in public and Cid is currently pressing himself against your back.

The two men make idle chatter, none of which you register, too focused on the small circles he draws against your skin, and the low rumble of his voice beside your ear.

Deep in conversation, he pulls up a seat, and then pulls you into his lap in a smooth motion. You squeal in shock, and the young man seems more and more uncomfortable with each passing moment. After a while he excuses himself, leaving as Cid waves him away.

“Gone so soon? Such a shame, he was nice to talk to.” He says to you, not apologetic in the slightest.

You roll your eyes and lean your head on his shoulder with a sigh. “I never took you for the jealous type.”

He presses a kiss to your cheek in response. “You bring out the worst in me darling. Take it as a compliment.”

Barnabas Tharmr

Lord help anyone who even so much as looks at you, much less tries to talk to you. He is very possessive, and if you’re in a relationship with him know that he will protect you from anyone and anything.

You’ve enjoyed the ball so far, indulging in the tasteful wines and elegant music. Your husband is not with you, but he is close by. Even though he is not one for celebration, he enjoys the sight of you happy.

Your mood is then soured by an older man, flushed and slightly swaying. It’s clear that he’s had far too much to drink.

There’s a crooked smile on his face as he makes his way to you, introducing himself as Lord…something or other. You don’t bother to pay attention as he rambles, most of it unrecognizable under his liquor-borne accent. You try to tell him kindly that you have a husband, that he wouldn’t like you talking to him, but he’s far too deep in his glass to pay your warnings any mind.

Barnabas catches a glimpse from the corner of his eye, ever watchful of his most prized possession, and the sight irritates him. But a drunk fool is little cause for concern, so he does nothing.

It’s only when the man gets bold enough to place a hand on your shoulder do you see, or rather feel Barnabas’s reaction, almost as if the room has grown several degrees colder. He slowly steps towards you, a welcome sight to your sore eyes. Immediately the other man backs away, looks between the two of you and slowly pieces together why the king is suddenly doting on you.

He apologizes, bows his head and runs away with his tail between his legs. Barnabas only smiles at his retreating figure, and makes no move to follow.

The moment he leaves the air is somewhat calm again, but you know your husband far better than to assume he would forgive and forget.

You kiss his cheek tenderly before speaking. “He was drunk. I’m fine.”

There's a rumble of appreciation from the warden of darkness before he replies. “He dared touch you.”

His hand moves over your shoulder, the same spot where the nobleman's hand formerly laid and his eyes darken. “Dared to lay his hands on my queen, my wife.”

His tone becomes more and more sinister the longer he speaks about the man, eerily calm. “What kind of husband would I be to let him walk away freely?”

“I am fine.” you reiterate. A hand at his chest and the anger leaves his face in an instant. “You will not hurt him. Are we clear?”

As much as you loved his possessive nature, you’d rather not make a scene tonight.

A sigh, his eyes fall to you as he relents. “Only because you asked nicely.”

Gav

Almost confrontational in a way, if he sees you getting flirted with he doesn’t hesitate to pull you close and tell the guy to fuck off. He’s very proud that you’re in a relationship with him, and isn’t afraid to show that in the slightest. He’s also a bit of a drama queen.

You’re in the markets buying some supplies for the hideaway when a salesman whistles for your attention. You resist the urge to roll your eyes at his behavior before turning around, the man gesturing to his wares.

“All exclusive, very rare herbs and essentials darling.” He says, and the nickname makes your stomach turn. Only one man is allowed to call you that.

Ignoring him, you notice that he actually has a few items you need, albeit a bit overpriced. When you ask, he gives you a smirk and leans closer, and you instinctively lean farther back.

“For a pretty lady such as yourself, I’d be willing to give you a discount,” he drawls, taking the time to look you up and down.

Your eye twitches. You get ready to leave but a familiar head of blonde quickly moves between you and the salesman.

“Piss off!” Gav yells, giving him a nasty look as he pulls you away. “She’s not interested, yeah? Go find some other poor sod to harass.”

They throw various insults between each other, each one worse than the one before. You have to sit back and admire the display, Gav sure can be creative when it comes to cursing. At one point he called the salesman a “morbol-breathed wanker” and you nearly lost it.

Eventually you manage to pull him away before the guards are called, and only when you two are far enough away does he show his concern.

“He didn’t try anything did he?” He asks in a thick accent. “ ‘m sorry lovie, I was gone for a second—”

A smile spreads across your face, kissing him into silence. He reciprocates instantly, still holding onto your waist when you pull away.

“Don’t be sorry for defending me, okay? But I think maybe we should get going now before the guards come looking.”

He nods in agreement, holding your hand as the two of you make your way to the docks. “I’d fight him for you, y’know that?”

“Of course darling, I know,” you laugh, his own mixing with yours. “But let’s try not to get arrested, okay?”

[nerdycanible1]

Hello my lovelies. Happy holidays!!

Sorry for being a bit late with your Christmas present but here I have a drawing of Lin Beifong!! I hope y’all like it!! Took me roughly 4.5 hours to complete it so I hope y’all like it.

I’m sure if we’re in any discord groups together, you’ve already heard about my evil Lin, but if you haven’t, oop- owo I won’t say anymore yet skdksjkdjskdjksjdksj

Anyways here, have a Lin Beifong. And below the line, you could read some HC’s about Linny and the holidays 🥺

Here are some hc’s I have for holiday Lin!

Lin is the type of person that would spend a lot of money getting the people she loves, presents for the holidays, but when she receives a rather expensive gift she is ready to murder you for spending that much.

Lin pretends she doesn’t care for the holidays but she does listen to what you want for the holidays. You could be mindlessly be babbling on and on about what you want or what you’ve seen and Lin always makes a mental note on it.

Her first year without Tenzin or her family, Lin had covered so many shifts during the holidays, she was given a new Sato vehicle by everyone helping in and giving it to Lin after the holidays were over. They thanked Lin, gave her a party and said she was the nicest person in the precinct, tho that was before Lin showed them other wise.

During the years, Lin always allowed her men to take the holidays off and would cover their shifts, even if it was beat cop work. She always enjoyed the way her boys perked up hearing they were allowed time off at their work.

Lin would throw a party for the people that worked during the holidays, she’d always have food ready for her men, drinks, holiday themed treats and sometimes even gifts she got for them. The gifts always included either pairs of socks, gift cards for food or even a nice bottle of whiskey.

Her boys adored Lin and knew under her hard, cold exterior she was nice and very thoughtful. It became a tradition to fill Lin’s office up with random stuff every year. One year it was fancy coats, the next turtle ducks, and so on and so forth. Though the year of the turtle ducks had to be their favorite it because Lin chased the little ducklings around making sure they weren’t squished. They’ve never seen Lin ever hold an animal but that year they saw Lin look so caring for her now new babies.

When Lin would look at her city from the roof tops, her men would take turns checking in on Lin, giving her hot chocolate breaks, snack breaks and even warming her hands up.

When Mako began his job at the precinct, he was confused on why Lin only had them do “paperwork” instead of actual police business. He was even more confused when Lin told him to shut up and party. It wasn’t until later they explained that Lin always threw a party during the holidays for the people that either don’t have families, homes or don’t celebrate the holidays. And when Lin gave Mako not only a nice coat and gloves but also a gift card to one of the best dry cleaners in the city for his scarf to make sure it’s always in good condition and cleaned.

Soon Mako got into the spirit of things at work and he loved his job more. When he and Lin grew closer and he began to see Lin as some sort of mother figure, he one day gave Lin a scarf. Everyone knew Lin would never wear such a thing but were surprised when she wore it. Now Lin and Mako matched and it was a bond.

Lin may not have a family anymore but her men were hers, they were her family and Lin couldn’t be happier.

Alright if you enjoyed that then please let me know in the comments and let me know if you want more! And as for the evil Lin thing I mentioned on top, I’ll let you know more after the holidays!! Thank you and Happy Holidays!

And here are some sketches!! All art is mine, if repost please credit. Thanks UwU

[reallyprofoundkryptonite]

Ah the final details on this monstrosity… anyways um. Future art between Demo and Krogan is to come! Hopefully planning on drawing Krogan with all of the mercs at least once before I start working on the fanfiction I might be planning.

Though as a run down, Krogan’s relationships with the Mercs depends on how far we go into the future. He is closest with Tavish considering he sounds like a large population of the men he’s used to being around (at first, that it what it is, as well as the intrigue towards the fact that Krogan, having been stolen from down south (in Africa) as a boy, has never had the opportunity to see other men that look like him. Considering he’s from somewhere in Viking age Scandinavia.) but as he grew closer, with the man, the initial interest and infatuation with the demoman’s appearance begins to fade, and Krogan just finds that he likes and enjoys the Scotsman’s presence, and it is a soothing one, despite the fact that he’s not the most sober man ever (an understatement.) Tavish fills a role that for Krogan that he didn’t even know he needed filled- that being an older brother/father figure. Sometimes both roles. Krogan has his first drink ever in his life (he was never allowed alcohol.) and while he can’t… exactly say he enjoys Scrumpy, it’s better than the wine spy serves with his meals (not that he’d ever say that to Spy’s face, of course, he wouldn’t want to hurt the Frenchman’s feelings.)

Pyro is the only other Merc besides maybe medic that I have put thought into, and it’s just that Krogan likes pyro. They’re sweet, arguably pretty kind, and don’t seem in any way what the mercs say about the little critter. Krogan knows the violence they’re capable of, and seems mildly unphased by it, minus the childlike nature of the pyro, which makes him believe that there’s something else going on underneath that mask. (Something that leaves a bad taste in his mouth, but he would prefer not to go snooping considering he can’t read in English, and he doesn’t want to pry with medic, and even if medic even knows anything about Pyro, it seems wrong to violate the firebug’s privacy.) They smell like fire and ash for the most part, which is soothing to Krogan.

I’m still working on his relationships with the other Mercs so um. 👉👈 yeah. Excuse my ramblings about the funky guy and the goobers.

Also, Krogan is classed as a completely new class. He’s kinda built off in his own lane of things in the gameplay aspect. Hunter, is his class name. And he’s kind of just a good rounded class for defending points. He mainly uses an M60 belt munition gun as a ranged weapon.

Basically it is an unsaid thing among the mercs but they all pretty much know that he’s from a completely different plane of the multiverse. And Krogan has kind of told them that he’s also just exceptionally weird even in his world.

[sourstars]

kindlings & mirrors. | t. todoroki.

touya’s outgrown his hometown, but he’ll never outgrow his rage.

wc: ~1.7K.

w: cursing duh, mention of burns/burn scars, descriptions of a house fire/flames, implication of arson, mentions (?) of family trauma and abuse, slight mention of alcohol, angst w/ no happy ending.

i’ve got a whole doc on this universe that i made up i’m rioting. anyways enjoy! there’ll be a second part to this btw!

take a shot every time you spot a taylor lyric that inspired this /j

“Watch—” Startling blue irises stare as smoke swirls out into the sky, an endless inky black mass moving through clouds like a serpent. “—I’m gonna leave this shithole behind. I’m gonna change everything and nothin’ will stop me. Not even him.”

You shift in your spot, foot wedged against the roof as you lean on the slant, eyes drifting back from the burning house to the boy who longs for the fire. Shadows dance across him, skipping across features and burying others in darkness, turning him into the picture of every harbinger of doom, every version of oracles and sea monsters in mortal skin—because that is what they do not like to admit when they assume you know nothing. Feed someone a poison and they learn to test the immunity, but give it to them long enough and soon they won’t remember what it was like to not have it running through their blood. Sometimes, something dies, and something else crawls out of the bones.

The house is two streets down, but even at this distance, you can hear the sirens and the screaming. If you close your eyes, you can even imagine the crackle of the flames as they succumb to greed, swallowing memories and names and anything else they can reach before they are overcome. From here, people look like beetles, crawling across gravel and asphalt, climbing into broken windows to rescue whatever remnants are scraping by on mercy, and Touya watches on. You wonder if he’s thinking about how his father is risking a scorching death and how his family’s future is held in the hands of a man who thinks himself a god among men, if he wonders whether the knife is ever too heavy to wield, if he ever wants to put it down. He won’t. Like father, like son; hold it long enough and palm molds to hilt. Use it long enough and blade turns into limb.

“Make sure no one sees you leave.” You duck your head when he glances in your direction, scratching at an imaginary spot on your clothes. You still hear sirens. “Caught by one, hunted by all. They’ll search from dusk to dawn.”

Touya’s hands flex, fingers curling onto hard tiles, nails scraping against them. You don’t need to see his scowl. By now, you know him inside out, and you can feel it: the squint of his eye, the razor edge of his mouth. His words are wrapped in barbed wire. “I’d like to see him try.”

(Once, at home alone, you spilled alcohol onto your white carpet, watched in silence as the liquid gold stained, and in your drunken haze thought that if it could talk it would say; “If I’m going I want to go being seen.”

You see the irony now, in things that refuse to go out softly, in things that desire to leave a mark behind. In another universe, Touya is happy. In that universe, he is his mother’s son in the way that he’d taken his place in her business, not because he had to, but because he could, without fear or reservation—something about pastries, you’d guess, where no one yelled and everything tasted sweet. There is no hurt. You imagine that he would bring her new recipes to taste, and she’d never stop smiling, brushing hair out of his eyes as he tied on an apron. In that universe, Shouto knows who his brother is, knows how he snorts when he laughs, that he’ll remain quiet when trying to sell a lie, that he used to like drawing stars in his palms so he could pretend he’d caught a wish, even though it was always the same thing.

In this one, you overlay his memories until he becomes a ghost, flickering in and out of your recollection until he is a name you barely remember.

But of course you do. You always have.)

He lays back against the roof, propping one leg up and bringing his arms behind his head, fingers buried in his bright hair, and his shirt rides up, exposing the scars beneath. Your heart drops, such a sudden dip it makes your breath catch, and you trade your dignity to keep back the words you want to say, swallowing how they burn as they go back down, simmering in the pit of your stomach.

You already know this story. A father’s pride rests in his family, a first born son who’s destined to fail, regardless of how badly he’d wanted to succeed, and another who inherits the silent anger, who clenches his hands into fists he will never want to use. A daughter to pick up the pieces and the youngest who is afraid to believe he is everything his father isn’t, because it might mean he is everything his father used to be.

You remember the nights in the hospital, how you sat in that uncomfortable chair with nothing but the clothes on your back and a book in your hand, how you watched the monitor beep and listened to him breathe. He doesn’t like to talk about it, but sometimes, when he’s in your room and he thinks you’re not looking, you catch him eyeing the same title. You wonder if he remembers how you read it aloud, forcing syllables past your teeth so you wouldn’t cry. Sometimes, you wonder if he had gotten out of the house earlier, if his father hadn’t been so stubborn that night about Touya rescuing himself, that he’d still look at the world like he loved it.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, tilting his head back. “I can go anywhere.” A laugh bubbles out of him, astonished. His eyes are wide as he reaches a hand toward the stars, like he can pluck them right from the sky. “I can go anywhere I want—just not home.”

You watch him quietly, trying to commit this to memory. The curve of his jaw, the look in his eye, the tiny, nearly invisible smile on his lips, the blinding white of his hair, and how he’s kept it messy on purpose. You peer at his scars once again, tracing them from his neck to his hands, to the tips of his fingers where they’re stained black by something he’s used. You’re going to miss him. You already miss him and he hasn’t even left. But he will. Touya is still of the Todoroki line, and they are nothing if not consumed by their heart.

“Do you know when you’re leaving?”

He gazes at you from the corner of his eye, a furrow to his brow. “The first chance I get.”

It took one week. You took one look at his sister, at her smudged glasses and the fat tears trailing down her face, at Shouto’s confused and worried look, too heavy for a child his age, and you knew. With his father’s truck stolen hours before, he is forced to catch a ride to the firehouse after Touya took a match to the edge of the forest.

The official report claims him officially deceased. Says that it must’ve caught onto him first or something else that made it catch onto the tree, but you know better. His things must still be in his room, everything he’s ever owned, everything he’s ever been. You can’t become someone else if you’re still dressed in your funeral clothes. You don’t believe he’s in there, bones trapped between branch and ash. You can’t.

The best and worst part about him, you think now, is how he has always been a sucker for aiming to kill. He has always had a thing for annihilation, for the complete destruction of anything that stands in his way of changing who he is, but you hadn’t expected to hear he’d burnt the treehouse first, allowing heat to eat up the names carved into the bark, and when you stand in front of the wreckage, you remember the feel of the ladder. You remember; the rug was the ugliest thing you’d ever seen, itchy and uneven in design, but you loved it because he did. You remember; posters were taped onto the walls, with maps of how you’d all be legends, timeslines scribbled in marker, plans written into roads. You remember; Natsuo curled into the beanbag, holding your hand after a fight and you holding his after the bruises. You remember; Shouto sharing a container of soba, and how you’d both eat, listening to the birds as you named each one in his blind spot, caused by the patch over his eye. You remember Touya digging into the bark; I WAS HERE. You remember, in smaller scratches, soft and unsure, undeneath the original, Shouto’s handwriting; I WAS HERE TOO. And then you blink, and water hoses replace laughter, firemen replace family, past replaces future.

Enji watches as you process the scene, eyes narrowed and mouth pulled into a sneer. You can see his eyebags, the unkempt hair. No one says anything. Instead, you go to kneel by the tree, head pressed against the ruined bark, hands clasped together.

(Because what are you supposed to say to the man who taught his son that hate is the only thing worth keeping? What do you say to a tiger with an already open mouth, looking for an excuse to eat?)

As you close your eyes and think about his sons, his daughter, his ex-wife, you listen to his footsteps slowly walk home.

(“There’s nothing worth me staying for.” He flicks a broken piece of roof tile over the edge, counting seconds until impact. Three. “This shitty little town’ll still look like garbage in the rear view. But,” You see a bit of his canine become exposed as a wide, nearly cruel smile forms on his face. “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure and all that shit, right?”

Your brothers, you think, that’s worth it. Your sister, your mother. The people who love you despite the one who doesn’t.

“Just like that?” You force a laugh, ignoring the stiffness in your bones. “Well. Remember me when you make it to the city, ‘kay?”

He stares, features turning blank before he nods, and whether you want to admit it or not, that look in his eye, that dangerous gleam, reminds you of his father. Of the way that, if given the opportunity, he would do anything for what he wanted, would burn the earth even if it meant he didn’t come out of the ashes. And then he looks back to the sky, and it’s gone.

You pretend that you don’t notice his tell, that the minute doesn’t tick on indefinitely, that he’s telling the truth, that just for a moment, you aren’t losing him.

“Just like that.”)

reblogs are preferred and appreciated! let me know your thoughts! <3

[pizzalordmarv]

Hey, welcome to my blog! I thought I’d make an introduction to let others get to know me better. It’s a little long, so I apologize for that. Anyways, on with the intro…

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞? 𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?

Well, my real name is Tuesday—my mother thought it was a nice name, I suppose. But online I usually go by the name of Eddie, which has a much more interesting reason behind it. Long ago I used to be into Warrior Cats, and like other fans I had made my own OCs—one being Eddieheart, named after my real cat Eddie. I went by the username “Eddieheart” early on when I was still in the fandom, and soon went on to go by “Eddie” as I slowly faded out from reading the books. Since then, I’ve been called Eddie, a name I have my annoying little pet cat to thank for.

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨 𝐛𝐲? 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐲 𝐚𝐬?

Currently I go by she/her pronouns, but I’m unsure on my gender. I believe I’m a demigirl but that is prone to change in the future. Whatever happens, I’ll probably keep updating this.

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦?

I come from Nova Scotia, which is in that one cold place called Canada. The nature is really lovely around here, there’s these red things called lobsters too.

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨?

I’m huge on music, but I’ll go over my favourite bands in a little bit. I can sing and play a bit of guitar and piano—both by ear, sheet music is too complicated for me to understand. I love vinyl records and collecting them, I have way too many of them at this point. I also love drawing (especially cats), reading, writing, and some video games (like Kirby and Pokémon). I also like nature and bugs, I don’t know a lot about plants but I do think they’re pretty cool.

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐓𝐕 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬?

My favourite movie is definitely Dune (1984)—firstly because Sting is in it, and secondly because it’s what got me into reading the novel, which became one of my favourite books. My favourite shows are the Trailer Park Boys and SpongeBob. And for books, Dune (as I had mentioned) and Pet Sematary.

𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚���𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐬?

Of course! I have what seems to be a million cats at home. I think Eddie is the one who likes me most.

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬?

There’s a lot of bands I listen to, but the one that’s been staying on top for a long while has been The Police. They’ve been my favourite band for ages, likely because of how much I love Sting—though funnily enough I never got into his solo career. I listen to a lot of 70s and 80s classic rock, especially the stuff from my homeland of Canada. Bands and singers such as Rush, April Wine, Loverboy, Trooper, Kim Mitchell, Triumph, Prism, Platinum Blonde, and The Guess Who are definitely my favourites. Non-Canadian bands I enjoy include The Beatles, Men At Work, and Boston. I’m also getting into the Alan Parsons Project.

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧?

I use a lot of Discord, my username is @pizzalordmarv on there if you’d like to talk to me any. Don’t be afraid to message me, I love to talk—especially about the music I like. I also use Discogs and Pinterest!

𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬?

I’m thinking of making some in the future—but for now, no.

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮?

I don’t have internet at home and can only access things like Discord and Tumblr during the weekends (and occasionally weekdays) while I’m visiting family, which is why there may be gaps in my activity on here. I also may or may not be neurodivergent, so that might explain the way I behave and think and stuff.

𝐀𝐧𝐲 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐝𝐝?

Nope, I think I just wasted enough of your time. So, farewell, and have a nice rest of your day or night!

[brasideios]

My boy Charlie

So, tentatively, I really want to start posting more about my original writing, since that's what I do full time; what I'm working on, the things I'm writing about, and just generally more writerly stuff, including talking about my OCs.

I feel rather shy about it, but I'm doing it anyway. If y'all hate it, I'm sorry in advance.

I've started with an OC because of a conversation I had in passing with @ainulindaelynn last week. As I said there, a lot of my OCs are based on kind of 'archetypes' I've developed (if that's not too grand a name for it) who I write and rewrite in various guises. I usually call them after the name I gave them the first time I really dug into their character.

Which brings me to my boy Charlie.

He's been my muse for a really long time - and I had this weird experience where I found a picture of him the other day so you can even see him without my having to attempt to draw his ass:

[This image is from a fashion catalogue; the absurdly expensive brand is Connolly.]

Something about the unsmiling face, the way he's looking away into the distance - just the whole vibe. The model from other angles doesn’t look like him, just this image... and the vibes.  

Original Charlie

The first time I wrote Charlie was in 2004 in a short story called The Pioneer; that short story was re-written heavily in 2014 and was eventually polished up and included in my published (2018) book Stories from Wiacubbin.

It was called - can you guess? - Charlie 😆 I've never enjoyed coming up with titles!

The whole book was written as an extension of that short, to expand on the characters in it so - what a journey this guy has taken me on.

Anyway. This is (the polished version of) how he's first introduced:

~~~

The sky was the barely blue of a long dry summer, even though it was only early December. Sun-bleached wheat fields lay across the flats, blonde on red clay.

Charlie was surrounded by familiar sounds: the shush of the breeze in the wheat; the snort of the horse’s breath and the muffled thump of its hooves on compacted dirt; the clink of the harness. He was a man used to being in the saddle - his mother had liked to say he was born into it. 

He squinted out from beneath his hat, pulled low over blue eyes, at the crop as he passed. It was an assessing glance which told him harvest wasn’t far off.

The Young’s homestead lay ahead. Granite dry walls, sun-baked mud brick, corrugated iron; the outbuildings of canvas, tree trunks, stone; and beyond, the granite outcrop, Wiacubbin Hill - a dark looming mass in the bright day.

The cattle dogs heard the horse and rider approaching and began to bark. Two men walked out from the stables curiously, shielding their eyes from the sun. 

As Charlie dismounted, the elder of the two asked, ‘You the new man?’

Charlie nodded curtly, and introduced himself.

‘I’m Ed, this is John.’ John nodded in greeting.

‘The boss about?’ Charlie asked after shaking hands with them both.

‘Down the south paddock. He’ll be back shortly. Head into the house and the girl’ll get you a drink while you wait.’

The house faced the outcrop. There was a dry gully which ran from the dam in the orchard at the south end of the house, along the front of the veranda and into oblivion, thus dividing the house from the driveway. Two rough-hewn tree trunks had been placed across the gully, and Charlie walked over these and then up the couple of steps to the veranda and the front door.

The door stood open. He knocked politely against the door frame before stepping across the threshold. 

The dining room was unexpectedly cool. With whitewashed walls, it was dominated by a large, scrubbed table; its only nod to decoration was a sideboard on which several old-fashioned photographs stood. He was looking at these when a girl in her late teens came into the room.

‘My father’s out. He’ll be back soon.’ Her voice was very soft. For a moment, their eyes met. She looked away. ‘Please sit. I’ll bring tea.’

He watched her go, then did as she’d instructed. He took a seat which gave him a clear view of the outcrop and the dam humped beneath it. The landscape was blurred and moving in the heat haze, a wash of gold, ochre and brown. 

His eyes wandered back to the photographs on the sideboard. The family ancestors, he assumed. None of the girl, he noted; only matriarchal women in tight-laced dresses and huge hats, and men in dark suits and full moustaches, all of them looking very serious.

He heard the clink of the teapot lid and teaspoons against the china as the girl came back. She set the tray down on the table, then handed him a cup and saucer, and set another at the head of the table.

She turned to leave, but stopped when he said, ‘I’m Charlie, by the way.’

She looked at him from under her brows, as if she couldn’t bring herself to look at him directly. Her face was as serious as the ancestors on the sideboard beside her.

‘I’m Rebekah.’ She was gone again before he could say anything further. He poured the tea into his own cup, frowning momentarily.

~~~

New Charlie (Joel).

I've been working on a new story, set nearly ~80 years later, and was digging into a new character via dialogue, Joel. I got a-ways in and was like, oh no. This is Charlie.

So new Charlie has just dropped (or has started to drop, anyway 😆)

(This is a WIP so forgive unpolished bits):

~~~

It was a perfect golden afternoon – the sparkling ocean beneath a high clear sky; a cargo ship even then was slipping towards the hazy horizon.

There was a golden quality to it all that tugged at my heart strings. The strange sense I sometimes have of the perfection of the world – or at the least, of a moment of perfection.

That feeling was powered by intense gratitude. I was still haunted by the person I’d been, and perhaps still partly was. The darkness that’d been in me – but I didn’t want to think about that. There was too much pain in it.

The guy who was sitting with Rowan came over to where I was looking out at the sunset, dragging a chair behind him, clumsy and shy. The sun caught his sandy brown hair, turning it vividly gold. His face was pleasant, wide-browed, but there was something vaguely brooding about him; something stern could be glimpsed lurking beneath the friendly surface. His eyes were very blue.

‘Since your friend and my friend are talking, I thought I’d introduce myself. I’m Joel.’

He offered a hand, and I shook it. His hand was so calloused, I almost recoiled.

‘Arity,’ I said.

‘So, what brings you ladies here this arvo?’

‘It’s my birthday actually.’

‘Let me guess,’ he said, squinting at me. ‘You’re… twenty-five?’

He was right. ‘Good guess.’

He smiled in one corner of his mouth.

I pondered a moment, looking at the pint of beer he’d placed on the table. The drops of condensation on the glass caught the sunlight like jewels.

After a minute, I said, ‘Well, I guess one of us has to do it.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Do what?’

‘Ask the obligatory, boring question – what do you do for a crust?’

He half-smiled again. ‘I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.’

I laughed, though I wasn’t entirely sure he was joking.

I suggested, ‘So… you’re a secret assassin, here to take out innocent women quietly drinking their cocktails?’

He smiled properly. It transformed his face in an astonishing way, softening the hard lines, crinkling his eyes at the corners charmingly.

‘Not at all,’ he said, though I could see him choosing his words. ‘I’m in public service. What about you?’

‘I work in hotels.’

‘Anywhere good?’ he asked, then clarified, ‘I mean here, in Perth, or somewhere exotic?’

‘Here,’ I said. ‘But I want to go up north eventually, after I finish my degree.’

‘Your degree?’

He’d visibly recoiled a little. I wondered what he was thinking.

‘I’m going to be a writer.’ I said it boldly, as if finishing the degree would automatically eject into the world someone who would write a novel. As if authors were somehow produced via a reliable process. ‘That’s part of why I want to travel. I can’t write about this shithole, can I?’

He half smiled at that; whatever thought the degree had provoked had passed, apparently. Maybe I’d misunderstood his body language.

‘I dunno.’ He looked around us pointedly, eyes sparkling. ‘I’ve been to worse pubs.’

It took me a second, then I caught up. I laughed.

‘You know what I mean!’

He took a drink before he said, ‘I sure do. Perth sucks.’

I agreed with him, but there was something about the way he said it that made me perk up my ears. To me, it sucked, but I meant it in an affectionate way; his dislike was different.

‘You’re not from here originally.’ It wasn’t a question.

He shook his head. ‘Brisbane.’

‘Been here long?’

‘Seven months. Another five to go.’

‘Then what?’

He shrugged, looking out at the ocean. ‘Not sure yet.’

Something clicked then. I’d grown up in Langarrin with new Navy kids always turning up for classes, then leaving again a year later. One of my high school friends had joined up when he was old enough, and he’d seemed to move at least every year, sometimes more, until we eventually lost touch.

And, of course, there’d been my Dad.

‘Are you in Defence?’ I asked, unintentionally pitching my voice low, as if I was asking him to disclose a state secret. Maybe it was his earlier evasiveness which made me vaguely nervous about asking.

The swiftest flicker of surprise crossed his face, as though I’d caught him out; but it was gone as he tilted his head and asked very coolly, ‘What makes you ask that?’

I sat back. I knew I was right. I wondered why he hadn’t just told me outright – I’d never met a sailor who’d been that evasive.

I shrugged. ‘I’ve known sailors all my life.’

He scoffed. ‘Navy.’ He shifted then, sitting up straighter. He met my eye with an almost defiant expression. ‘I’m Army.’

I wasn’t sure what he expected me to say about that. I said, ‘Fair enough,’ but I felt compelled to add, ‘I don’t judge.’

He visibly relaxed. I didn’t understand his reactions at all.

‘Do you want another drink?’ he asked. Why did I feel like I’d passed a test?

‘Yes, please,’ I said, waving my now-empty glass at him. ‘Tom Collins.’

He asked Rowan if he wanted another, and Suzie took the moment to glance over at me then.

She tilted her head, as if to ask if everything was good. I smiled back, reassuringly. I wasn’t sure if I liked Joel, but I’d definitely been around worse people.

I returned the favour, and she smiled in this way she had that said she liked him. I smiled back.

~~~

So that's Charlie. He's one of the easiest to pin down.

Where I can identify the source of his character, he's based very loosely on a close friend I had at one time, mixed with a collection of ideas gleaned from the books of Cormac McCarthy, all things Western, and a brief spell of being really into mid-century history.

If anyone cares to ask anything about him or OCs in general, or anything about writing, I'm open to talk about anything pretty much. AND I would love to see/hear about everyone else's OCs. It's so interesting to see what other people people are making 😆

If you read this far, thank you 🤍

[chief-justice-of-lawbots]

Introduction

(I dunno how to start this blog but I would love to interact with the toontown community more because I’ve been around for so dang long but never uploaded anything really. Toontown has always been my special interest, so I hope some of you enjoy these pictures and memes of my special boys, the cog bosses hold a special place in my heart! My username is just a really old username because my favorite cog boss was always CJ. I didn’t feel like getting a new one. But my two favorites of this blog will mostly consist of Chief Justice and Chief Finical officer. I love to ship these two as well in my AU. My least favorite is probably VP hes kinda overrated and gets too much art by everyone else in the fandom anyway. NO OFFENSE, its true though. So, I don’t draw VP much. Just a message before I upload :). Questions are open if you are interested in asking any of my versions of the bosses anyway! (THIS IS A AU AND NOT CANNON BTW) don’t be shy.)

-This is also my first Blog so I’m not very experienced in Tumblr lol.-I’m going to try to put out references for all my cog bosses but at the time of writing this I only have my CFO’s done: his name is Trayvon he’s really cool. :) give him some love.

just to rephrase again and give more details: my VP is called Vergil: Hes the shortest and weakest out of all the other guys. Hes the most edgy one out of the group, He’s into punk and emo things. He despises toons. Hes probably the most aggressive one. I wanted him to be different then the VP everyone goes for. Hes way colder emotionally then the other bosses, he still has fun with the other bosses and still are friends with them even though. he is a very bad workaholic and a perfectionist. He built a kid with him and CJ’s blueprints when CJ was still a male his name is Clay (Sinister). (and no its not a copy of Cathal, I thought of him since 2018) Nicknames:(CFO love to call him gaylord, but sometimes edgelord, or emo boy as a joke) CFO, Trayvon (Tray): hes the biggest, chunkiest cog boss in my au, its really cute and fits him well because hes really greedy/overindulgent! Hes SUPER headstrong and a bit dense, hes the funniest one though. The most out of pocket one and doesn’t really have a filter. He smokes a lot of weed. Him and the CJ in this au are a couple, he would murder anyone if they even looked at CJ the wrong way hes super protective of his loved ones! he loves to make CJ laugh (yes cogs can laugh in my au) Hes kinda like the class clown. Hes probably the most physically strong cog boss to make up for him being a bit dumb and slow in speed. In my au he can lift and throw safes at toons. He really hates toon too and despises them for stealing from him and what they did to CJ’s eyes in my au. he loves to eat. Fun fact is he gets hot and overheats a lot from being so big and chunky. Has a biological kid with CJ after a while called Clinton (Legal Tender) Nicknames:(CJ likes to mess with him calling him big daddy to make him flustered when they are being romantic. The other two men like to call him big d**k daddy to tease him.)

CJ, Clementine (Clem): he was at first built a man but transitioned to a woman! So, she goes by she/her now. Shes probably the second weakest cog boss physically. Shes super skinny and doesn’t have much strength because lawbots are more brain smart so she was never built to be very strong. Shes quite witty and kindhearted actually and a really caring cog to other cogs! She loves all the other bosses a lot and loves to hang out with them (all the bosses are friends with each other to clarify and are polyamorous). She loves to support her friends. Her and Trayvon/the CFO are a couple. She also unfortunately hates toon too because in my au toons attacked her on trial in the past when she was still a young cog and scratched her eyes and that’s why she’s PARCIALLY blind, she can still see a bit but it’s blurry/fuzzy. Is always cold from being close to the burrrgh and also in general when she visits other places (she loves to cuddle the CFO because hes always warm and warms her up ahhh or CFO usually just gives her his jacket all the time which she LOVES to wear his oversized things). Has a biological kid with CFO after a while called Clinton (Legal Tender) Is their favorite kid. Nicknames:(the bosses mostly just call her babe, or my love or something. CFO likes to call her “your Honor” randomly to tease her)

CEO, Chad: hes also quite edgy himself but hes more outgoing to cogs then Vergil is. him and Tray are besties/fwb, (I draw the two together a lot). He mostly just goes along with whatever everyone else is doing, hes quite chill. he loves to cause trouble (for toons and trouble in general) him and the CFO are very mischievous together. He loves to hype up and support his friends. He loves throwing banquets, usually he parties really hard and gets drunk off oil. He also loves doing golf shit with his friends (the other bosses, even though the other bosses don’t really like golf). He would die for the other bosses and to keep them safe. Probably is the least aggressive against the toons though unless they showed aggression first, then he would rip them apart if so LOL. He tries his best to manage the other bosses. (has no kids yet but I had a design with him and CJ’s kid for a long time his name is Mulligan. I might make it cannon.) Nicknames:(CJ likes to call him Chaddy LOL or Chaddy Chad to tease him. CFO likes to call him ball fondler to tease him.)

(ALL OF THE BOSSES IN THIS AU ARE POLYAMOROUS WITH EACHOTHER BTW) (there is also no chairman or boardbots in this au, but I drawn a chairman before but I would imagine he lives in cog nation, wherever that is. Their au is more like a toontown online au more then a clash au.)

-This is a very simplified version of everything about all of them btw.-Please don’t say super negative things about them. -I would love to see how you feel about them! thanks for reading. (sorry if the wording was all over the place.)

[feebleturtleduck-artz]

More old art reposts, because I feel its off-topic enough to post here since I need somewhere new to post and don’t just draw Scooby-Doo constantly.

So long stupid story for this character: some unspecified years ago, I can’t remember exactly I was between the ages of 10-13, somewhere in there so 2010-2013 I wanted to make a character who was a slasher, but was unfamiliar with things like gore properly at the time.

So instead of trying to design my own character I made a rip off Michael Myers, down to the mask. I believe I drew a single shitty image of him in a sketchbook, and it was JUST the mask(not even a head or anything) with squiggly hair. I thought “I can’t just have rip off Michael Mysters, I have to make it different” so I came up with the idea to make his hair blue because I had been referencing art from blue haired anime men at the time.

I didn’t draw him for YEARS. That was the only image that exist of blue-hair Michael Myers rip off. Then sometime in 2018 I got into Slasher art, especially on tumblr where I saw a lot of peoples OCS. I remember seeing a trend of teenager boy flashes. I wanted to make my own slasher OC but the closest I had at the time was old Creepy Pasta OCS which really didn’t fit the handle. Then suddenly, I remembered my blue haired Michael Myers rip off! I could finally do something with him and make it original! remake him and make him good! I never actually sat down to draw it, because I had way too many ideas, but Blue-haired-Michael-Myers was going to just be redrawn as a Slasher is overalls but with a filthy blood/dirt stained mask, and a blue scraggly wig. THEN I had the idea to make him younger, because all the slasher OCS I saw on tumblr were young teen boys. So the next idea was for him to be a skinnier, scraggly teen boy, much younger than before. With the same mask, but cleaner. I played around with the idea it would be a wig but settled on it being his own hair, that was dyed blue.

Then I tried to come up with a story line for him, but by that time I was kinda bored and done with Slashers as a whole. I ended up toning his story down to where he was a slasher, but had trauma. And then to where he was a slasher, but it was an accident that he killed someone. He became younger and younger, until he was a 12yr old child. I debated keeping him a slasher, but he kept getting younger and more innocent and more incapable of being a proper murdering slasher. So at that point, I dropped the slasher plot line entirely.

He eventually got the moniker of “Blue Boy”. I kept the story line about him being abused and having (possibly) killed someone by accident, but he was a small child with no real malicious intent.

Anyways, what’s the point of this story?

Has anyone heard of SALLY FACE? It’s a game. One of my friends helpfully pointed out Blue Boy looks identical to SF and they are right and its horribly annoying because every time I have drawn him someone has asked me “Is that Sally Face?” it is not.

So now I’m left to wonder if I should change his hair color. I know you can’t copy right blue haired anime boys wearing masks but the resemblance is undeniable and its annoying. But if I change his hair color I can’t call him “blue boy” anymore and I really feel blue WAS his color. But I hate how much he looks like SF. His hair isn’t even naturally blue.

I’m thinking of having it changed to pink or green in his teenage years because I really like that color scheme but again, it kinda ruins him :/ ah well.

Enjoy the art. First image was drawn Dec 27, 2018 Second image was drawn Dec 23, 2018

[oceanoecielo]

“I could certainly try,” Simon said, “but I don’t think I would take to it all that well.”  He was mostly being silly.  He picked up new pursuits much more quickly than other immortals—he would say people his age, but he had yet to meet anyone quite as old as he was.  No, indeed, it wasn’t that you couldn’t teach old dogs new tricks, but that most old dogs were decidedly unwilling to learn.  Such was the case with Jonah and Peter and countless other avatars who had had their lives extended by their patron Entity.  They were resolute in their ways to a point that not even Simon agreed with.  After all, remaining perfectly the same for such a long time was boring, and he feared he would wither if he was stuck in one pursuit for four hundred years.

Simon would change much more readily than some of the others, but when he came to his interest in dashing young men, he was unwilling to deviate.  You could teach him some new tricks, and he would take to them rather with ease, as he had done with every turn of the century and the new innovations they brought about.  But you would never sway him off the course of pretty boys.

A slight shudder passed through Salvatore as he considered the multitudes of space, and Simon felt it in his chin and the chest he now had pressed against the man’s back.  It was evident that he didn’t think of space as something to fear but rather enjoyed it, marveled at it.  The Vast might or might not have been able to use that.  While the Entities typically worked on what people were afraid of, occasionally, if somebody liked something well enough, it would latch onto them, turn them into an avatar, use them.

From Simon’s understanding, that had been the case with Jared Hopworth, who had not necessarily been scared of the Flesh but had wielded his own body like a weapon against others for so long that it took and twisted him, anyway.  Being such a good friend of somebody Eye-aligned an a primary investor in the Institute—the primary investor, in fact—meant that Simon was privy to a lot of juicy gossip surrounding the others like him.

But with Salvatore having a fear of enclosed spaces, that meant the Buried had a hold on him as well.  The Buried and the Vast were forever at odds, making Simon daunted by tight spaces as well, as the Buried was one of the few Fears that could be used to weaken him.  The two of them might have played tug-of-war over Salvatore if he were not already a vampire and, therefore, more likely to get taken in by the Hunt.

He was not yet one of the mindless killing machines that constituted the Hunt’s vampires, but it was possible that he would get there someday.  As such, Simon would use what time he had with Salvatore, knowing well the other would likely be gone before he was.  Simon was perhaps the only person Salvatore didn’t have to worry about dying before him.

“Oh, yes,” Simon said.  “We have discovered ten percent of the ocean and not even a fraction of a percent of space.  Just think about how much more we’ll find as the years go on!”  He had seen much more of space and the ocean than everyone else on Earth, and he was anticipating others’ reactions when they discovered the true horrors of what lied below and beyond.  If what had been uncovered was mildly terrifying, they had not seen anything yet.

“Personally, I’m rather tired of telescopes.”  He waved his hand.  “Oh, of course, I know they’re important to science and our discovery of what’s beyond our own atmosphere, but I would rather spend more research on better vessels so that we could go see all the nebulae and other planets for ourselves.  That’s a long way off, though,” he concluded with a dramatically weary sigh.

He leaned back, drawing his warmth away from Salvatore and pulling his arms back to himself.  “You and your brother might have seen something, though.  If you saw some reddish or orange ‘stars’ that seemed rather large in the sky and were noticeable through the city lights, that would be Mars and Jupiter.  So, perhaps, your explorations  weren’t for nothing.”

Since reuniting with Simon in modern day, Sal's feelings about the old man were, in many ways, complicated. Before, the arrangement was simple: Salvatore was to hang off Simon's arm and smile prettily at him, to play the part of the old man's personal whore. (At least, that was how Sal saw it.)

They both knew the arrangement was purely a business one, and that was fine, even if it prevented them from actually getting to know each other on a personal level. Still, despite the pressure of Nickels' orders to keep Simon entertained at any cost, Salvatore came to genuinely enjoy the other's company.

So, when he found Simon again all these years later, his first reaction was relief (especially after he was assured that the old man wasn't also a bloodsucker). After losing the friends and family he'd had before, after having them ripped away from him like a rotting branch from a tree, finding even one person he cared about from when he was human a welcome surprise.

Of course, after the relief came the complications. Now, Salvatore had no reason to pretend, and no reason to hang around Simon besides some bittersweet nostalgia for his humanity. For the first time in their relationship, Salvatore had a say in the matter, and yet he chose to continue seeking Simon out. He told himself he was just happy to see his old friend again, especially now that they didn't have to pretend to be lovers and could get to know each other on a more personal level. Nothing more than that. Besides, surely Simon had moved on by now.

Perhaps that was what made Sal comfortable enough to relax around him, to start babbling excitedly about the science textbook Billy had lent him. Or maybe it was just a sign that Sal was a very different man now. After all, before, he'd never have been caught dead geeking out like this, even with his closest friends and lovers. It was a sign of weakness he couldn't allow himself.

But, well, things change, and so do people.

Some things don't change, though, Salvatore realized as he continued stammering like an idiot, looking at Simon with wide eyes. It was humiliating for him to be so flustered over a chaste kiss to the nose, yet here he was. And clearly Simon was delighted by his reaction, grinning at him. Sal's ears pinned back and he looked away, grumbling under his breath as he hunched his shoulders.

"Well, maybe this old dog should try and pick up a thing or two," he spluttered once he was able to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. "You're lucky I didn't sock you in the jaw for that one." The threat fell flat the moment it left his jagged teeth, and he averted his eyes to look back down at the book. They both knew Sal wasn't going to actually punch Simon, and somehow that was more humiliating than the kiss.

When Simon scooted closer and rested his chin on Sal's shoulder, the vampire tensed and shot him a dirty look, but he didn't say anything. Especially because Simon was leaning over the textbook as well, pointing at one of the pictures with a long finger. After a moment, Sal turned his attention back to the book, his expression and posture softening.

"It's pretty fuckin' amazing," he agreed, unable to hide the awe in his voice at the thought of all that waited out there, far beyond his comprehension. Rather than feel insignificant or afraid in the face of expansive eternity, Sal felt deeply comforted, in a way. The endless void of space was far better than a tiny, cramped concrete room.

"Y'know," he said, his voice wistful and distant, "when I was a kid, my older brother had a telescope. A pretty shitty one, but still. Sometimes we'd go out and try to look at the stars together, see if we could find anything." Sal chuckled to himself. "'Course, we never saw a goddamn thing through the city lights, but it was fun to try." Unconsciously, he shifted, settling back against Simon and making himself comfortable.

For a long moment, he stared at the picture of the swirling nebula, a small smile on his face. "Shit, I wonder what those fuckin' eggheads will find whenever they can make a better telescope. Or at least take some better pictures."

[reniqt]

14 — LETS DATE :★︎:

“you seem pretty happy.”

you shift your gaze towards the boy who’s happily carrying a bucket of paintbrushes across the room, a long sigh escaping your lips.

this was definitely not the same riki you first saw in the men’s bathroom, but a whole different person.

surprisingly, you never knew the reason why, discovering nothing but warmness in his eyes whenever you were in his presence.

but strangely,

you felt weird.

“hm?” riki sweetly says in your direction, lips pursing as his eyes dance to yours. “what do you mean?”

his innocent eyes replace the disgust within you, only vanishing to shudders that are sent through you.

“I mean,” you hesitate, averting your gaze. “I guess you’ve been enjoying jay’s company a lot, huh?” you dryly laugh.

his stare remains on you. “of course I have. His reputation is like—wow.” he cheerfully says, eyes lit with joy as he resumed propping the objects.

his playful response earns small laughter from you, hopping off the stool to set the area. You offered him a few paint brushes as the boy pulled up a chair, politely grabbing them off the palm of your hands.

for the past few weeks inside the abandoned art room, it was quite obvious to you both that you’ve always been the one having to watch riki paint, but not you.

you always watched from afar, whether it would be just silently examining his artwork or sharing small conversations about your daily life. You didn’t mind.

but the moment riki opens his mouth to speak, it triggers a feeling of fear in you.

“y/n, do you not paint?”

and you, who was busy watching his movements from beside, immediately go silent.

“I mean..it’s just that I’ve never seen you draw before.” he truthfully tells you, gliding his brush.

He does that little head first then eyes thing, eyes gradually meeting yours.

“..Is there a reason why?”

but he’s instantly filled with regret as he watches your expression turn dark, stiffening the tension between you both.

he quickly returns back to his artwork after getting a silent response, only to still as you turned your back.

“…I stopped painting.”

he glances at you again.

you wished you could explain why, but all that appeared were burning memories from middle school you wished you had forgotten.

in fact,

you hated painting.

if anything, you’d be scared to draw again, in hopes of losing that precious talent of yours.

you took a breath, slowly turning yourself around to meet the boy’s guilt looking gaze, pulling up your own chair to escape this insanely awkward conversation.

“I’m..” you start. “I’m sorry, let’s just move on.” You nervously say, avoiding any forms of eye contact.

but riki feels his heart soften as he watches your sullen expression, slowly nodding before continuing his work.

you both refuse to say anything for the next few minutes, unable to remove the coldness that surrounded you both as you quietly began to fiddle with your pencil.

but thankfully, the silence is cleared in a heartbeat thanks to his stupidity.

“..now how do you draw a star again?”

you were brought back into reality in an instant, a genuine but soft laugh leaving you at his dumb question.

“I can’t help you this time.”

“pleeeaase.”

“nope.”

next thing you know, you both are making silly arguments with each other as if nothing had happened. It was difficult for you to wipe the playful grin off your lips, knowing damn well this was all part of riki’s evil plan for your happiness.

but you admit, it worked.

this guy, he’s…. different.

“riki, I have a question.”

he turns his attention towards you once more, his laughter fading to silence whilst warmly humming in response.

“you know there’s been rumors going on about us dating.”

he scoffed. “Us? it’s the total opposite, though.” he laughs it off, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m sure it’ll go away, anyways.”

“yeah? but..” you turn to him. “I don’t think it’s a bad idea.”

“..you and me…going out.”

he paused.

“what?”

and what riki expected you to say wasn’t anything like he expected at all.

the moment those words left your lips, he’s stiffer than ever.

“what did you just—”

his jaw drops, his eyes widen, and his cheeks are flushed.

he couldn’t even hold back the overflowing shock that ran through his body, instantly causing him to react with confusion on his face.

his ears were red.

his butterflies returned,

“so, lets do it.”

and all he could think about was the innocent grin on your lips.

“lets date.”

◦ synopsis middle school years were difficult for you. After you finally moved away from your supposedly old bully, an unexpected surprise begans to follow

—

© reniqt — all rights reserved

tlist: @xiaojunsmintchoco @nyfwyeonjun @laylasimp @mintbgyu @maeumiluv @emobeomgyu @hrtattcker @luviesbi @anik-4 @kamiwazhere @jakelux @ahnneyong @sophhloaff @tzyuki @lil-iva @emoworu @kyoyangwon @aachillies @k1ttyl1x @markzitos <3 @kimjiho1 <3 @euphorecore @zorrilloberry @artstaeh @nikipedia07 @wonniesimp @kyoyangwon @uwudaizy @un-flirt @ilovechanhee @sfthyuka @woosunnie @i-yeseo @chiyuv @ilovejaketoomuch ( request or DM to be added ) + @boobies34567 cuz u need to laugh

permtlist: @enhacolor @certainyouthpeanut @hiqhkey @szniki ♡︎ @lvepsh ♡︎

unable to tag: @chaeryeongsredhair @myjellyboo

mlist | previous | next

[kemakoshume]

Secrets Whispered in Writing — gojo x f!reader x geto

summary: Traveling through Edo-era Japan under the guard of two samurai—Satoru and Suguru—you find yourself in the mecca of art, music, and sex. You write your feelings down in your diary. Gojo and Getou are nosey.

· this is a samurai champloo!au based on episode 12 of the series. you don't need to watch the show to enjoy this but you should definitely watch it. it's amazing.

a/n: remember that samurai champloo fic i wrote for the lovely @cyancherub's "back from the dead" collab like... almost a year ago? lmao. well, i rewrote it, added a bunch to it, and made it satosugu x reader. so, here's that :) also posted on AO3. only the diary entries are in first-person; the rest of the fic isn't.

warnings: threesome (M/M/F), oral sex (f!receiving), double penetration.

❁ July 2nd — Sunny, then cloudy ❁

Gojo, Getou, and I landed in Edo for an extended mission today.

This is our fourth town and sixth month together. Things feel good.

I don’t have much to say about Edo except—wow. The people here are wild.

They make beautiful art with lacquers and textiles finer than silk.

The music feeds the soul and the food fuels carnal hunger.

They have sex without sexuality, and they have it in abundance.

Just between us, dear diary, the desire to throw myself into the debauchery of this town grows more and more with every hour we spend here.

What am I to do?

xx

❁ July 4th — Cloudy ❁

I met a prostitute in a bar today. She was very lovely.

She asked about my companions and how a country girl like me learned how to tend to two strong samurai.

I didn’t tell her that they aren’t technically samurai.

They’re just two bozos with a little training and nice reflexes that can wield swords.

But anyway… I also didn’t tell her that I don’t ‘tend’ to them.

I’m afraid to admit that I want to.

xx

❁ July 5th — Rainy, then foggy ❁

Today, I saw something that my eyes could’ve never imagined.

I’ve heard murmurs for ages that men here explore in ways that they don’t in the countryside. Today, I saw it.

Two men, out in the open inside our ryokan, making love like men do to women.

Now I can’t help but wonder if those two do the same when I’m not around.

If they’ve ever thought about it…

Hmph

xx

❁ July 7th — Rainy, with sun ❁

I saw that prostitute again.

She suggested that the boys and I go to a bathhouse.

We went, and I saw it again.

Two men, but this time with a woman—another worker.

All three of them, together. I didn’t know that was possible.

xx

❁ July 8th — Rainy ❁

I can’t stop picturing it.

The three of us, like those people in the bathhouse.

If it were possible.

xx

❁ July 10th — Warm, and wet ❁

A handsome man who paints portraits asked me on the street if he could draw me.

I said yes. He showed me his home, and he drew me nude.

He asked if I could touch myself… like the yuujo girls that sit in the shop windows do to attract customers.

I said yes. He drew that too.

My mind raced with thoughts of Suguru’s polished hands and Satoru’s slick tongue the entire time.

Fuck.

xx

❁ July 11th — Cloudy, with sunshine ❁

Things feel funny.

Getou held my waist today as he walked past me.

He and Gojo haven’t fought in two days.

Well, each other, at least.

They’ve fought plenty of other people.

Strange.

xx

❁ July 12th — Foggy ❁

We’ll only be in Edo for one more day.

I don’t want to leave.

The energy is infectious.

I’ve caught it like a disease.

xx

❁ July 13th — Sunny, but cool ❁

Gojo suggested we stay another night.

He conned a guy out of a home to stay in.

Getou and I said yes.

xx

❁ July 14th — Sunny ❁

I figured it out.

I know you two are reading these. Getou—give Gojo my regards.

And answer my questions ~

Cowards.

xx

“So, are you going to explain yourselves or just sit in silence all night?”

You looked down at the two men from your position at the head of your shared sleeping room, staring down at them sitting on the floor in front of you while you leaned on the homeowner’s large wooden desk. Satoru sat with his long legs crossed at the knees—his arms folded in a similar fashion across the lean muscle of his chest. Suguru did the same, though his large indigo blue haori sleeves hid his muscular arms, and his hands were interlaced in his lap—almost like he was meditating. Their faces housed similar scowls, though Gojo’s was characteristically indignant while Getou looked typically temperate.

For a moment, the room was vacant of your voices. The only sound that was audible between the firm wooden walls was your breathing—heavy against the weight of your breasts beneath the lining of your delicate yukata. The mid-summer warmth bled into the air, making all three of you bead lightly with a thin sheen of sweat.

“Well?” you said, your tone insistent as the sound of cicadas nestled in the trees grew louder from outside the ryokan.

Gojo huffed, shaking out the pleasantly clean—for once—mop of wavey white curls on top of his head.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve calling us cowards when you were busy hiding your feelings in your diary,” he said, his voice gruff as he moved his line of sight from the floor and fixed it on you. “Yeah, we read your stupid diary! Shouldn’t leave shit lying around if you don’t want anyone to see.”

A deep inhale of air filled your lungs, only for it to be expelled twice as fast. “Satoru,” you said, your eyes pointed and glaring at the wild-haired man, “that was one of my personal things. I don’t touch your swords, so why would you touch my diary? It’s basically the same thing!”

He scoffed, something akin to a laugh bubbling in his throat. “Do you protect us with that journal, princess? Can that journal cut your cute little fingers off if you wield it wrong? Hm?”

You huffed, sputtering out rushing words to negate the man’s sentiments. Though, as even Getou breathed out a chuckle, you knew your protests fell on two sets of deaf ears.

“So, no then?” Gojo said, cocking his full lips into a lazy smile. “Hear that, Suguru? She thinks her diary is the same thing as a sword.”

Your foot hit the floor with a dull thud as you stomped one down in petulant irritation. “That’s not what I said! And, anyway, it’s still my thing. My private thing. You had no right to read it!”

Satoru adjusted his body, sitting so that his right leg was still crossed, but now his left was propped up—making the already lanky man look even larger as he spread out his limbs.

“I didn’t read anything,” he said, feigning innocence—as the man was notably illiterate. “But, you can’t stand here and play the dumb card with us, princess. You say you didn’t want us to see, but you left the thing on my side of the room—and you know I’m nosey. And you left it here unattended, out in the open, knowing that Getou here can read. For something you’re so protective of, you sure do a lousy job at keeping it hidden. Unless—”

“She wanted us to read it, as proven obvious by the last submission in the journal,” Suguru said, lifting his gaze to look up at you as well. “And your incessant desire to know our thoughts about the ill-kept secrets you filled the pages with.”

Despite your higher position, being the one standing, suddenly you felt small in front of the two men. Getou—the stoic man with long black hair and piercing eyes, with dewy milk-white skin unwithered despite your days in the sun, and Gojo—the other man sworn to protect you on your journey, with untamed hair and tan skin—facial hair that added a more masculine edge to his thinner physique, and a tongue as quick as the draw of his sword.

The two couldn’t have been more different in most ways. Suguru was refined; Satoru was a menace. Yet somehow, despite the difference in their dispositions, in moments like this, they couldn’t have felt more similar. When they were toying with you with their words, passing you back and forth to be teased and taunted in that way you begrudgingly enjoyed, their similarities shined. They were always at their best when it came to playing with you.

“Well, out with it then,” Gojo said, tapping his foot impatiently. “We’ve already decided to share you, so get on with it and ask.”

You blinked, your lashes fluttering in disbelief as you scoffed. “Share me?” you said, followed by a series of incomplete thoughts flowing out in a blur from your lips. “I—I just… share? Me, with both of you? Do I look like a geiko to you? I mean… Satoru, I would never, and Suguru, you barely even look at me half the time. So, I—”

Suguru stood up without a word, crossing the small distance between where he sat and where you stood with three long strides. Your protests ceased as he slid his body against yours, his front flush against you as the man held your face in his hands.

“Stop talking,” he said firmly, making the rush of words halt on your tongue. “We read enough to know what you want. Do you want it to be a reality, or are you content with it being a personal fairytale forever?”

You looked up into Suguru’s deep onyx-colored eyes, somehow tinged even darker with a hint of something you’d never seen on the man’s face before. The fixed position of his jaw, like the man was holding back words—which, for him, was strange—enticed you to nod as he lowered his hands to your hips, guiding you to sit back on the desk.

“Good, then lay down.”

You did as you were told and laid down on the desk, feebly attempting to hold the slipping fabric of your yukata closed in the front as the fabric stretched in the new position.

“Oh, now she’s shy,” Gojo murmured, rolling his eyes as he stood too, coming over to sit next to you on the heavy desk. “But you showed that hack painter the goods with no problem?”

Satoru gripped the obe keeping the thin fabric closed, looking down at you with those crystal-blue eyes in wait until you nodded your head and moved your hands—removing them from where they’d been gripping the garment tight to shield your bare skin beneath.

“Are you hustling us?” Suguru asked, running his hands up your nude body beneath the fabric, causing it to pool around you like a halo as the fabric fell off of you and down onto the desk, only still connected to you by the sleeves. “No wrapping for your breasts. No drawers. And your skin is so supple—practically begging to be touched.”

He wasted no time in dipping his head down then, leaning his tall body over your smaller frame easily to envelop you in his warmth—the weight of his mouth on your skin sending heat down from the crown of your head to your feet as a shiver coursed through your body. He nosed your neck, nipping the area with his teeth before soothing the pain away with kisses while his hands traveled the curves and dips of your body.

Gojo watched, looking down at you both as Getou took one taut nipple into his mouth and sucked before moving his attention down the length of your torso.

“You smell wonderful right here,” Suguru said, kissing his way down until he was squatting, his face level with your cunt. “So wet for me, and I’ve barely done anything to you. Have you thought about this for that long?”

You nodded, willing to throw away a bit of your pride as the man’s mouth hovered so close but still too far away from where you wanted it.

“Me?” Satoru said indignantly, scrunching his nose in irritation. “I thought this was supposed to be a group project, casanova.”

The blue-eyed man adjusted his body to be comfortable as he lowered his head, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and sucking. You ran your hand through Gojo's hair, lightly gripping the soft strands to keep his mouth on you as Suguru lifted your legs, pushing them back and resting his arms against the back of your thighs to keep them open.

“It’s like a little pearl,” Suguru said, mostly to himself as an airy moan left your lungs due to Gojo adding his hands to the mix, pinching your unattended nipple with his fingers.

He lowered his mouth down to your “pearl” then, flicking the muscle tentatively at first, then relaxing into the motions as you wiggled your hips to make him move.

“See?” you said, your voice not sounding like your own as you spoke. “You two work together great. Perfect partners in crime.”

You felt more than saw Suguru's eye roll as he smacked the soft skin of your inner thighs, and Satoru very subtly added his teeth into the next bout of suction against your sensitive nipple. The slight sting of pain added to the pleasure, and you felt the feeling growing beneath your skin as their tongues worked harder against your body.

Satoru moved, adjusting to lay on his side next to you as he toyed with your breasts. The sound of their tongues on your skin was loud in the quiet room as your high crept up on you, building to a fever pitch until you felt nothing but wet heat and saw infinite darkness behind your eyelids. Soft whimpers and long moans poured out of your mouth to accompany it.

“Do you want to taste her? She tastes divine,” Getou murmured toward Gojo, his words slurred slightly as he licked you gently as your orgasm came down. He looked like a man starved; like he couldn’t care less that the “end” had occurred. He just wanted more of you.

Satoru lifted his head, stopping his mission of marking any skin he could get his mouth on. “I wouldn’t describe pussy as divine, but you do your thing. I want to feel her inside,” he said, looking down to watch Getou flick his tongue against your slick folds with reverence again before hopping off of the desk.

“Let’s move this party down to the floor, hm?” Gojo said, running his blunt nails along the sensitive skin of Suguru’s neck as he walked behind him. He slotted his hand in the man’s hair, pulling his head backward to remove him from his daze of feasting on you.

You couldn’t hear well over the beating of your heart in your ears, but you’re sure you heard a slight whine tumble from Getou’s mouth just as a disappointed groan left yours.

“No,” you said, pouting with irritation as Gojo coaxed Getou backward with his hold on his hair. “I felt another one coming.”

He hummed, guiding Suguru down to the ground that was padded with thick tatami mats. “Don’t pout,” Satoru said, walking back over to you. “You’ll get yours again, princess, don’t worry. Waiting for it a little won’t kill you.” He wasted no time lifting you off the furniture, carrying your weight easily with his deceptively strong arms.

He sat you down in between Suguru's legs allowing the other man to hold you close to his chest with his arm wrapped around your waist. As you settled into his lap, your eyes focused forward on Gojo, and you couldn’t stifle the gasp as you saw his length. It hung free from his pants, heavy and blushed at the tip between his legs as he approached you on the tatami.

“Don’t act all innocent,” he said, leaning into your space to kiss you before slotting his legs with Getou’s—caging you between them both. “You’ve seen a dick before.”

You blinked dumbly, wondering how much an insufferable man could be blessed with so much girth. “Not one like that,” you muttered, yelping with a shout as Gojo landed a swift spank against your sensitive bud.

“Shut up,” he groaned, resting his hand on the firm bone above your cunt while his thumb dipped down into the mess of sloppy wet slick coating your sex. “Getou, get your cock out. I want to try something.”

The typical temperate man made no contests as he normally would. He simply lifted your body enough to wiggle his pants down and placed you back down in his lap, pressing his hard length against your back.

“It’s out. Now what?”

Gojo smirked, pushing your legs toward your chest as he sat up enough to be kneeling.

“Hold these,” he said, gripping your thighs until Getou’s hands replaced his—holding you open and exposed for the world to see.

“I’ll get her nice and ready, then you can have your fill, Suguru.”

Gojo fisted his cock, running his hand up and down the length a few times before nestling himself against your entrance—impatiently asking for your approval with his eyes. You nodded as Getou tilted your chin up to meet his gaze, and he kissed you—deep and filled with passion you didn’t know the man was capable of while Gojo sheathed himself into your wet heat, groaning as he bottomed out.

“Jesus, you’re soft. Everywhere, but fuck—right here. Inside,” he said, his breathing ragged as he began to move. His characteristic ruthlessness came out in full force as he wasted no time thrusting into you, making your body jolt and rub against Getou’s abdomen, and thus his cock trapped in-between.

“A little less rough, Gojo,” Getou said, a weak moan spilling from his lips as a particularly firm thrust that made him rut against you harder than he meant to. “I’d rather not cum on her back, at least not like this.”

Satoru laughed, loosening his grip on your hips as he looked the other man in the eye. “Well, get inside of her then, dumbass. I’ll wait.”

You allowed your body to be rag-dolled as the men exchanged places inside of you—Satoru’s hard length pulling out as Suguru slid inside.

“‘S’ different,” you said, moaning into the exchange as Gojo’s girth was switched with Getou’s length. “Fucking good. It’s really good.”

Suguru cooed at you, kissing you messily as one of his hands found your nipple while the other gripped your waist—holding you still while Suguru fucked you. Satoru busied his hands with your clit as he let the other man get his fill, tugging his own cock as he watched his fuck into you nice and deep despite the position.

Gojo and patient were two words that had never complimented each other well, so when he pressed his length against your entrance, with Getou still inside, all you could do was beg for more despite the surprise. You gasped when he lightly breached your cunt, accidentally slipping in when you slammed down onto Getou’s cock. Satoru had been jerking himself off with his tip against your folds. Still, once the idea was there…

“Do it again,” you said, taking a deep breath when Suguru stopped his thrusts for a moment to process what you were asking for.

The two men communicated something with their eyes and then directed their looks down to you.

“Well, she did say she wanted us both, right? Like that prostitute and her clients at the bathhouse?” Gojo said, faltering as your breathing quickened once you pieced together that the two were okay with what you wanted.

It should have terrified you. Absolutely petrified you, but it didn’t. Your heart raced with excitement as the two men positioned themselves to do what your dreams couldn’t have conjured on their own. You felt your cunt drip with want at the mere thought of it, and the two men—the men who put their lives on the line for yours daily, who loved you so deeply in their own ways— were both ready to make it happen.

“I want it,” you whimpered, wiggling your hips back and forth to entice the man to move. For one of them to do something. “I want you both.”

You could feel Suguru’s body tense as you said the words, but you lulled his worries with a massaging squeeze with your walls around his cock—eliciting a deep moan from the man and at that moment, Satoru made you whole.

His cock nestled in snug against Getou’s, stretching you to your limits, then he moved. Slow at first, with nothing but careful intent in his eyes as he let you adjust. But after a few minutes, filled with distracting kisses and caresses on all the spots you needed their hands the most, Gojo fucked you—and you saw stars. Everything was shrouded in darkness after that. Your eyes snapped closed, and your ears no longer processed sound as the overwhelming sensation of fullness processed in your nerves, driving you to the brink of insanity as the two men rutted into you—grabbing any flesh they could reach while tangling their tongues with yours—and each other—before you were all reaching your peaks, stuffed and satiated with the warm trembling of post-coital glow.

It was bliss.

“What else do you want to try, Satoru?” Suguru panted, breathless as you all soaked in each other’s presence on the quickly cooling tatami mats. Kissing and cuddling once Satoru pulled out of you, while Getou decided to leave his cock inside you for warmth.

“Hell if I know. She’s the creative one here,” Satoru said, a lazy smile gracing his face again as he pulled you into a kiss.

“That she is.” Suguru purred, nuzzling his nose against the crown of your head. “We have all the time in the world to try everything you dream of and more, princess.”

You hummed, letting the two kiss you and touch you to your heart's content, falling into the rhythm of ‘want’ all over again.

“You know… you two never really answered my question,” you said between kisses, interrupting Suguru as he rubbed circles against your clit with his long middle finger.

“The question being?” he asked, resuming his movements as he stopped trying to rack his brain for the answer on his own.

“Have you ever done this when you’re alone?” You asked, placing a quick kiss on the samurai's throat as you gazed at Satoru. “Did you think I didn’t notice you kissing, too?”

They looked between each other, scowled, and groaned a matching, “only in your dreams.”

Though the slightest hint of hesitation gave them away, and the night of exploration continued.

------

thanks for reading <;3 taglist; ao3; twitter

[nagito-kissmaeda]

Mother May I Sleep with Danger - Servant!Nagito Komaeda x Reader

ミ☆ not a request, I’m just really horny for servant asjdkfkflddj

Summary: future foundation reader is kidnapped by the WOH and figures if they’re going to die anyway……..

Contains: Explicit Sexual Content, Fem reader, no pronouns used

Word Count: 3589

The foundation is not going to be happy with you.

Not only did you balls up your mission into Towa City, but now your uniform is ripped all to hell, basically slashed to ribbons by the Monokuma who managed to overpower you. It was your new set too, all fresh and clean. This mess is going to get you seriously mocked by the men in operations when you get back.

That is if the foundation even lets you back onto the helicopter after this disaster of a mission.

You huff and turn to face the man lurking in the far corner of your cell. He’s been standing there for the past 20 minutes, just shaking and staring at you with wide grey eyes. You had been planning to just ignore him until he left, but he isnt leaving, “What do you want?”

He doesn’t answer, just wraps his arms around himself and starts giggling.

“Are you just going to stand there all day?” You snap, crossing your arms and glaring up at him from your seat on the floor, “If you’re going to kill me just get it over with, the anticipation has all but worn off and I'm just starting to get angry.”

“Ah...kill you?” He giggles again. His voice is a lot gentler than you had been expecting. What with the manic eyes and tangled hair. You were prepared for him to be downright menacing. He sucks in a breath and levels his gaze with you, “I wouldn't kill you. That would be waste.” The chain around his throat jangles as he gestures at you with his mitted hand, knees wobbling like they are barely strong enough to keep him upright, “Honestly, a bug like myself killing you would help no one. It would be utterly disappointing for both sides, and what is the point in that? No despair...no hope...ahhhhaaaa…” he brings the cuff of his jacket up to his mouth and starts gnawing on it, “it would be completely pointless...mm?”

“Why haven't the children killed you?” Your brows draw together, watching his balance shifting from foot to foot, “You must be at least eighteen, right?”

He wheezes, throwing one shoulder up in a haphazard shrug, “Older. I think. I honestly can’t remember.”

For some reason. A terrible little voice in the back of your head whispers - Hey, at least it’s legal! You balk at your own lack of decorum. The man is still currently chewing so furiously on his sleeve that drool has started rolling down his chin, his hair is so matted that if you dug your fingers into it you would probably never get them out again. You are smart enough to take one look at this wheezing, sweating, drooling mess of a man and think: gross.

Unfortunately, your cunt is dumb enough to disagree.

Maybe it’s because you’re going to die anyway. Maybe it’s because his black jeans cling very tightly to his thighs. Maybe you just have terrible taste in men. It doesn’t matter why, but for some godforsaken reason, you are attracted to him.

“So. Are they just keeping you around as a--” you examine him again, eyes locking on the chain dangling down by his knees. (why does looking at that make you want to rub your thighs together?) “--a...pet?”

He laughs again, finally letting the sleeve he was chewing on drop back down to his side, “A fitting position for someone like me, but no. I am their servant.” The man takes a step towards you, the chain jangles in ways that your insides apparently find arousing. You swallow, “I came to this town to seek refuge, but...well...you can see how that turned out.” he laughs again, shoulders quaking with the noise. You can help but notice the stiff way the hand obscured by his mitt is moving. Like he doesn't have any real control over it.

“Ah.” You say, eyes still focussed on the hand you cannot see, but can imagine perfectly well. That hand, along with his age, seem to only lead to one conclusion, “You’re one of the remnants of despair, aren’t you?”

He grins at you, manic, all sharp teeth and wild eyes, taking another step closer to you “Oh! I didn’t expect you to recognise common garbage like me…” he makes a noise that is dangerously close to being a moan, before exclaiming, “you’re right, I am!” His grin turns syrupy in a way that you find yourself enjoying much more than you should. His eyes hooded as he breathes, “does that disgust you? Does my very presence make you want to spit in my face?”

The way he speaks, his soft lilting tone. It almost sounds like he is crooning, purring. You shift on the floor, trying to ignore the wetness pooling between your legs. You have gone from wanting to fuck a regular crazy man, to wanting to fuck a crazy man literally out for capture by the company you work for.

“Listen.” You start, suddenly nervous, “The foundation is looking for you, all of you. But Togami in the other cell and I are working with-”

Your words catch in your throat when he comes barreling towards you and claps his bare hand over your mouth. His eyes are wild when they meet yours, pupils little more than pinpricks in dark swirling circles that dig deep inside of you, his voice drops to a terrifying whisper, “No. Not yet...I have important work I must do and you will not keep me from it.”

“We want to help.” You hiss into the meat of his palm. Horrified at how you feel the jagged grin that tugs at his mouth deep in your stomach. His mouth pulls so wide that his lips tear and bleed, drool pooling at the corners of his mouth and dripping over his lips when he starts laughing again, loud and manic, wheezing and decrepit.

“You truly are an embodiment of hope. You think you can...ah...haha…” He wheezes again, tangled white hair falling over his face and he tries to hold in a laugh, “You truly think you can help me? What a feat that would be! Endlessly impressive I’m sure” He leans in closer to you, eyes calm once again, hooded and piercing, “Thank you for your kindness, but I assure you. It will not be so simple.”

His face is so close to yours now, you can feel his breath on your face, see the bags under his eyes and the way his papery skin has wrinkled around the corners of his mouth. He looks half dead, but under that. You see soft skin, pretty long eyelashes and what are undoubtedly the most stunning eyes you have ever seen. You are going to die soon anyway, so you dont stop yourself from whispering, “You were very pretty once. Weren’t you?”

His lips curl into a smile, but his eyes look almost sad, “Most would disagree.”

“Hm. That’s a shame.” you whisper, trying to ignore the seductive tone you have adopted, “I think you’re still quite pretty now.”

He lets out a wheezing giggle, dropping down into a crouch in front of you and resting his hands on his knees, “Are you trying to win me over with words of kindness? With sharp lies wrapped in goose down?”

They aren't lies, but you can tell he won't believe you even if you try to convince him, “Just tell me what you want with me.”

“What do I want with you?” He breathes, reaching out a shaky hand and running his knuckles down your cheek. One side of his mouth quirks up in a smile at the feeling of your skin, “I don’t want anything...eheh...I just...I just want to watch. I want to see what you will do, I want to see you fight.”

“I’d be able to fight better if you let me out of the cell.”

“Aha. Cute.” He drags his tongue over his lower lip, “But wouldn't it be so much more satisfying to watch you overcome impossible odds? For your hope to overcome the utmost despair?” His head tilts to the side and he smiles, “I have faith in you. I’ll be cheering you on, just dont expect my help.”

The more he talks, the less you understand him. At this point you're barely even listening to his words and are just letting the soft tones of his voice wash over you, his eyes are blinding, it feels like he is staring straight through you. The door of the cell is still locked, Togami is still far enough away that he couldn't hear you if you screamed. Help won't be coming for a long time if it is even coming at all.

And you want to fuck a remnant of despair.

“What’s your name, pretty boy?” you whisper, reaching out a hand to push some of his tangled hair away from his face.

He stills, for a moment. The panic in his eyes is so powerful that even his ceaseless shivering stops. He blinks slowly, unsurely, and his lips pull up in a smile, “My pathetic name isn't even worthy of being heard by someone like you.” he breathes, leaning into your hand as it comes to rest on his cheek, “Servant will suffice.”

You make an upset noise, sitting up on your knees and leaning in closer to his face. His eyes aren’t grey, you realise, they’re green, “Are you sure? I was hoping for something a little more...intimate.”

“Intimate…” he whispers, almost like he is testing how the word tastes on his tongue. His face is so close to yours now, your hand reaches around and curls into the mess of hair on the back of his head. He starts shivering again, a wheezy laugh escaping his mouth almost breathlessly as he (with a surprising amount of tenderness) lowers you down to lay on the hard concrete below, “Is...this what you mean?”

Your heart is racing. He looms above you, knees planted firmly on either side of your hips. His hair tumbles down over his face, obscuring his beautiful green eyes in shadow and you feel your hips twitch upward at even the anticipation of his touch.

“Exactly what I mean.” you purr, slowly sliding your hand down the length of his chain. He quivers above you, a broken moan leaves his mouth when you give it a gentle tug. Your lips curl into a predatory smirk, and then you tug it again, hard.

His mouth collides with yours and a shocked gasp escapes his throat, his arms shake at your sides, desperate and almost panicked. It only takes a moment for him to soften, returning the kiss with a newfound passion, moaning deep and loud into your mouth and leaning into you. His kisses feel a little messy and unpracticed, but he makes up for it with enthusiasm. Choking on a groan when you bury a hand in his hair and pull tight on the strands.

He moves away from your mouth, trailing down the side of your throat and sucking hard on your skin. You can feel his breath hot and heavy in your ear as his tongue lathes over your flesh, teeth sinking in hard into the join between your throat and shoulder.

A moan breaks free from your mouth, and your hips buck upward high enough to meet Servant’s and you can feel his gasp against your skin. He grinds his hips down on yours in response, sucking in a breath at the friction.

“This…this really is my lucky day…” he whines, leaning back on his heels and undoing the few surviving buttons on your shirt. Your bra is conservative, skin toned and unflattering. It’s designed for missions out into the wastes of the world, not for whatever is happening right now.

Servant doesn’t seem to mind, running his tongue across his chapped lower lip, eyes blown wide as he drinks in your form. A shudder runs through him, and he swallows, “may I?”

You nod, “please…touch me…”

He giggles, gripping your breasts in both of his hands (though the hand hidden by the mitt is only really able to press down, but he is trying his best.) before burying his face between them, sighing happily against your skin. You choke on a moan when you feel his tongue run up your cleavage, hands squeezing almost desperately.

“Servant…” you whisper, “my bra, take it off…”

He leans up, a shy smile on his face, “Ah, I would like to! But uh, as I’m sure you know-“ he waves at you with his mitted hand, “-I can’t really use these fingers”

The thought of the dead hand attached at his forearm should deter you, but it doesn’t. You sit up just enough to unclasp your bra, chucking it off into the corner of the cell before grabbing Servant’s bare hand and pressing it to your breast. Servant chokes, brushing his thumb over your nipple.

Your breath hitches, and he is emboldened enough to take the other into his mouth. Your back instinctively arches upward, chasing the warmth of his mouth encasing your nipple, the finger and thumb on his bare hand pinching at twitching the other. His tongue is wet and sloppy, this is no precision to his licks and sucks. The servant is running on animalistic desperation alone.

Luckily, that doesn’t bother you much at all.

The cool metal of the chain presses down hard on your bare stomach, his mitt is scratchy where that hand is pressed firmly to your waist, not able to grab, but it still reads as possessive. You can feel him panting and moaning against your breast, his tangled white hair brushing against your skin in a way that makes you shiver. Your sex is aching, the way he furiously circles his tongue around your nipple feels almost feral and it makes you want more.

You hook your leg around the back of his knees, and use the leverage to flip the both of you over. Servant gasps when his back hits the ground. You grin, physical training at the Future Foundation is finally coming in handy.

Servant looks like a perfect ruin beneath you. His hair spread out on the hard concrete, eyes glassy with desire, cheeks bright red and mouth wet with saliva. You laugh, you can feel him quivering below you. The quivering grows worse when you tug his black jacket down off his shoulders and start working his shirt up and over his head. He is so thin, sickly, shaking, barely even there. All jutting bones and paper thin skin.

“Are they feeding you?” you find yourself asking quite seriously.

Servant giggles, “They’re children. I feed myself when I find the time.”

“You don't often find the time, do you?” he sucks in a breath when the tip of your finger runs up over his exposed ribs. You lean down and press a hot kiss to his collarbone, “Are you sure that you’ll have enough energy for this?”

“Ehehe...Don’t concern yourself with that-“ he leans up enough to lick all the way up the length of your throat, “I can be quite tenacious when required”

You don't doubt it. Leaning back down to kiss him firmly, licking into his open mouth as your hands trail down his torso and to the button on his jeans. He whines loudly when you undo the zipper and wrap your fist around the hardness in his boxers. His hips stutter up into your grip and you smile against his lips. He’s cute. It’s cute how desperate he is. You sit up, grinding your hips down against his, moaning aloud at the feeling of his cock pressing firmly against your clit through your panties.

Servant breaks out into a breathless giggle, panting and moaning as he pushes his hips up to meet yours, shivery and insatiable. The only light in the room is a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, just bright enough to catch on his teeth when his chapped lips curl back in a grin.

“Yes~” He whines when you grind down again, pretty eyes fluttering closed and white hair spreading even further across the concrete, “use me use me use me!”

You like that. You like that a lot, “You want to be used?” you breathe, sitting up just enough that you can wriggle out of your panties, hiking your tight pencil skirt up over your hips.

“Please...please…” he whimpers, hips stuttering up even though there is nothing to meet them. Drool trailing down his chin, “I want you to use me for your pleasure…” he gasps out a moan, like even the thought of it is too much for him, “...cum all over me...please...ruin me…”

“Okay…” you whisper, pulling his boxers and jeans down his thighs to expose his cock, he hisses a breath in through his teeth that turns into a moan when you grab him, “Can you be a good boy and stay still for me?”

He nods furiously. Thighs and stomach tensing as he forces himself not to move. It becomes even harder when you slowly slip yourself down on him, letting your head loll back in a moan at the feeling of him filling you. He cries out, hands jumping up to grab at your waist, trying so hard to keep his hips still when all he wants is to chase your warmth.

A smile crawls its way across your face when you lean forward, placing your arms on either side of his head. He stares up at you, enamoured with you, face flushed red and mouth hung open, “You feel so good, Servant.” you croon, slowly licking up the shell of his ear.

He mewls, thrusting up inside of you just a little. He just can't resist.

“I’m...I’m sorry, I'm so pathetic ehehe” he pants, “Can’t even follow such a simple order.”

“Well, hopefully you will do better with this next one.” You start, adjusting yourself so your bare breasts are now right in front of his face, “suck.”

He doesn't waste one second, licking up under one of your nipples and then pulling it into his mouth. Peering up at you through his pretty eyelashes as he sucks languidly on your tit, swirling his tongue around and moaning so deeply that you can feel the vibrations.

“Ahh…ah! You’re such a pretty boy, aren’t you?”

He nods

“Such a good boy.”

He nods again, moving his hands from your waists to your breasts, pressing them close enough together that he is able to suck on both nipples at once.

“Oh! Ohhhhhhhhh fuck- I…hng…” you rock your hips forward, keening loudly when the head of his cock meets your g-spot. Servant is still trying to stay still. Panting loudly as he furiously licks and sucks on both of your nipples. Wet and sloppy with little to no precision, so desperate to taste you, to devour you. The pleasure in your stomach is curling and twisting, the feeling of him so deep inside you, quivering as he resists the urge to move. It’s so much and not enough all at once.

“Servant…” you groan, hips twitching forward enough to grind your clit down on his pelvis, “you…you can move…”

His hips snap up immediately. He doesn’t waste even a second to drill himself deep inside of you, almost sobbing against the flesh of your breasts when the desperation he has been holding in finally gets to escape. He is animalistic, he is hungry. His hands move from your breasts to grip tightly to your hips, encouraging you to bounce up and down on his cock.

Luckily you don’t need much encouragement. Sitting up enough that your breasts leave his mouth with a lurid pop, throwing your head back and riding him like your life depends on it. Underneath you, you can hear the sound of his chain jangling with the force of his upward thrusts, along with his staccato breathing as he loses himself deeper and deeper within you.

Sweat drips down your forehead, down between your shoulder blades, it feels so good, it feels so wrong. The ever present itch of his mitt presses against your skin, a grim reminder of everything he is, everything he has done. It only turns you on more.

“I…I…AHAHAH! I’m…close.” He stammers, eyes wide when they fixate on the spot where you are joined, sharing himself disappearing inside of you again and again. His bare hand slides down your side and around to your clit, rubbing fast, messy circles that make your hips jump forward.

It’s too much, you can feel your insides growing tighter and tighter as his fingers bring you closer to the release you need so badly. Tossing your head back with a strangled moan as you finally cum, clenching hard around his cock and almost sobbing with how good it feels, how good he feels.

As Servant chases your release with his own, breaking into a breathless laughed as he pounds you with reckless abandon, cumming deep inside of you-

You can’t help but think that the foundation is really not going to be happy with you now.

But as Servant comes down from his high, his grip softens, his eyes grow sleepy, and he gives you a gentle smile that makes you heart race just a little-

And you realise that you don’t really care anymore.

[taechaos]

Blackmail

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: Jimin offers you information on Jungkook, but your friendship is misconstrued by Jungkook who ends it singlehandedly with one video of you professing your love to him between moans.

warnings: dubcon, fingering, degredation, mild squirting, manipulation

word count: 2.8k

a/n: jealous kook doesn't realize he's jealous. this part is a bit extreme, so beware ><

One doesn't come across someone like Jungkook every day. It's fate that you met him in your first year of college, extending to your second where he grows closer to you; fair, it's clear that he only intends to use you for his academic success, but you've deluded yourself into thinking you're in love with each other. Growing up, you only had your dysfunctional family to teach you about how to love, how to think. As long as Jungkook needs you, he will love you, and you’re willing to do anything to be with him, only him. You need him to live.

Birds sing in the background as you lay on your stomach on the grass of the yard across the campus. It’s sunny and breezy, the perfect spring day as you work on Jungkook’s research paper due next month. You compiled multiple credible sources in a separate file to create an outline for his essay the moment he forwarded the assignment to you. You want him to praise you, pet your hair, kiss your cheek for starting so early so he can turn it in before anyone else. He would be proud, flashing you his pearly whites and adoring eyes. The reward motivates you to work harder and you’re relentlessly skimming through articles while counting down the minutes of Jungkook's lecture. He'll be outside with his friends in 7 minutes.

With a bad childhood, you don’t care to befriend many people. You only have a few friends to keep you company and you’re socially awkward outside of that group. You’re content, so you steer clear of boys who try to sabotage your relationship with Jungkook. Jimin, however, doesn’t get the memo.

Typing away on your laptop, a shadow looms over you to give you a break from the sunlight. You glance up and stop swinging your legs absentmindedly when you recognize the shadow; it’s a boy with frames and a tight collar adorning his neck.

Park Jimin is a typical nerd whereas you’re more of a closeted nerd. When you’re in love, you usually put more effort into your appearance to impress the one on your mind, but that doesn’t work with Jungkook. It’s always other men giving you their attention through second glances, and that includes Jimin.

“What do you want?” you rudely greet. Jimin is ruthless with his attempts at pursuing you; he’s the perfect gentleman, and often volunteers to do group tasks with you. He is never mean to anyone, and has a squeaky clean reputation, but his only flaw is that he can’t take a hint. You don't bother being friendly to him because you don't want friends.

"I want to know why you look so happy," he bends over to curiously glance at your screen, "while doing homework?"

You slam the monitor closed to stop his ogling. "You wouldn't get it. And stop watching me," you sternly say.

"What's your secret?" he grins and sits down on the grass next to you with crossed legs. His upper body serves as a shade and you stop squinting.

"There is no secret, I was just in a good mood until you came along." You're not upset, but you don't want to lead Jimin on and he won't leave unless you blow him off.

"Thinking of Jungkook?" he teases with a mischievous smile.

"Are you stalking me?"

"No, you're just too obvious," he chuckles, but the sound is strained. You don't notice his melancholy as he continues, "You were doing his homework again?"

You shift on your propped elbows a little uncomfortably. Jimin doesn't need to know what you do in your free time. "Yes," you answer anyway.

"You know he has daddy issues?"

Your eyes round as your discomfort dissipates instantly; he's piqued your interest. "Really?"

"Yeah, he has a tough exterior but he's actually a real softie."

An involuntary smile carves on your face before it falters as you ask, "How do you know this?"

"We went to high school together. I can tell you some stories if you want," he boasts when he realizes he has your attention. The context makes his heart sink, but when he imagines your lovesick grin is directed at him, it fills him with joy.

"Tell me, tell me! Please."

"Weeell," he draws with a lopsided grin, "don't tell him I told you this, but he used to hate girls. I don't know if he still does, but back then he couldn't even stand talking to a girl."

"Why?" your eyes are wide with interest as you whisper.

He shrugs, "No idea, but he hit a girl once when she wouldn't stop clinging onto him. Not like drop-kick her," he laughs, "he just shoved her on the ground. Be careful with him, okay? He can be very aggres-"

"You guys forming a nerd club now?"

You gasp when you hear Jungkook's voice. When you look up at him, he's almost glaring as his eyes flicker from you to Jimin. You're gleeful at his approach, because he never comes to you unless it's about a new assignment. It flutters your heart to see him without any papers in his hand.

You don't take his subtle insult to heart as you immediately respond, "No, we were just talking. H-Hi."

"Pull down your skirt, you look like a whore. I can see your panties all the way from the gates," he seethes in distaste. You instantly sit up with a blush and tug your skirt down to your knees. He looks back at Jimin who's glaring at him under his lashes, "The fuck's your deal?"

"Nothing," Jimin grits. Although he hates Jungkook's guts, he's too smart to fight a lost cause. He has his own set of muscles, but it isn't enough. It's best to accept defeat now.

"Did you start on the paper?" Jungkook asks you.

"Yes, I-"

"Good," he cuts you off and crouches to peck your lips by pulling the back of your neck. You're stunned when he pulls away and nonchalantly walks off to his friends.

Jimin follows him with his eyes and mutters under his breath, "douche."

Your heart is racing and you clamp a hand over your chest as a lovestruck smile spreads across your face. You know this is your end of the bargain, but it never fails to shrivel you up in delight.

"Are you two dating?" he mumbles as he pulls on the grass with a pout.

"Something like that," you exhale as you caress your lips.

It’s become routine to link up with Jimin where he reminisces his high school memories and you don’t doubt a single word he says unless it sheds a bad light on Jungkook. You’ve learned so much about him in the past few days, and you’re eager to know more. He likes energy drinks to this day, he was athletic in school and often got into fights. He began interacting with girls when he entered college, as Jimin says, “only for a quick fuck.”

Though it hurts Jimin that you only talk to him for information on Jungkook, he can’t bring himself to care when you hang onto every word he says with a glint in your eyes like you’re doing now.

You're sitting in the bustling cafeteria across from Jimin, sipping on a homemade strawberry lemonade from your thermos, and you don't notice Jungkook glancing at your table every now and then. It is the first time he doesn't feel your heavy gaze on him. Jimin does notice however, because he is facing him every time he receives a threatening ferile look.

"He could become a lawyer with how much he blackmailed the teachers to give him a good grade," Jimin tells you as he glances back and forth between you and Jungkook. "He's quite dangerous, you know. He's manipulative, a liar and has no empathy-"

"He's clever," you counter defensively, "he knows how to get around the system."

He makes a disgruntled noise from the back of his throat with a grimace. "I don't think the judge would listen to that."

You laugh at his comparison of the conversation to a court hearing. Jimin can be funny sometimes, and you have to admit that he's not that bad of a friend either. You've come to enjoy his company without the topic of Jungkook the past few days, but talking about him is always appreciated.

"Are you the judge then?" you cheekily ask.

"I might as well be, since I'm not biased like a certain someone," he teases with a grin.

"A lawyer has to see the bright side of things, but if I was the prosecutor, I wouldn't tell you that your lecture is in five minutes."

His smile falters as his eyes widen; you remember his schedule? He ran late for a lecture yesterday, but he’s in disbelief that you reminded him today. "Th-Thanks," he breathes as he packs up his belongings before giving you a curt, shy nod. His heart pounds when he walks away, and he resists the urge to look back at you.

It's a good idea, because that's when Jungkook settles down on his former seat.

"I'm thinking you might be forgetting who you belong to," he starts as he gets comfortable on the stiff chair. You instantly smile at his appearance.

"No, I'm very well aware of it." Your tone is high-pitched in excitement.

"It wasn't a question."

"Oh..."

“You talk more than you work,” he observes with a quirk of his brow. “One would think another nerd would be a better influence on you.”

“I work at night,” you defend worriedly, “I promise I’m not slacking off. Can I get a kiss please?”

You’re so adorable when you’re needy. He hides a smirk with a bite of his lip; he thrives from your loyalty to him, but he knows Jimin is a threat to it. He wants you to stop talking to that freak, and he justifies it as a concern for his grades. “I’ll kiss you when you’re not procrastinating. Do you think you deserve even a pat on the head?”

“I do! I’m halfway done with the research paper, please Jungkook,” you beg pathetically, “I-I’ll show it to you, I have it with me right now.” You start unzipping the case of your laptop until he holds up a hand for you to stop.

“You’re going to read it to me, but not here.”

When he stands up, so do you in a haste. He leaves the cafeteria with you hot on his tail, almost jogging when his strides are much bigger compared to yours. You resemble a clueless lamb following a lion, desperate to hold his claws with your hooves. You don’t know where he’s leading you as you walk down the halls until you stop in front of a door. You’re about to freak out when he swings open the door, but you realize the lecture room is empty.

“You want me to read here?” you inquire meekly. It’s a little intimidating to do it in complete silence, because you have a tendency to stutter when reading out loud and you don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of Jungkook where no one can talk over you. 

“Yup.” He snatches your laptop case from your hand with the handle, and roughly opens it before placing the device on the front row wooden desk. It’s a large hall, and the desks stretch out to the half of the room. You’re feeling stage fright for no particular reason; it feels like reverse claustrophobia. “Open the document and give me your phone.”

You don’t question him and hand in your phone before going through your files on the laptop. Jungkook is looking through your contacts and grins when he finds himself saved as: the love of my life ♡. Jimin is saved by his name, and he finds his WhatsApp through his information below. Once he opens your empty chat with him, he switches to your camera and pushes your back so you’re bent over the desk. You sharply inhale and ask, “Kook?” 

“Don’t get distracted now,” he lightly scolds and starts pulling down your pants. You stopped wearing skirts after the incident a week ago to appease him. You stammer with your back arched, and your ass is on full display for him. It’s humiliating. “Start reading.”

“H-Humans are- Jungkook?” you warily look back at Jungkook when he slides the slit of your panties to the side.

“Are you slacking off?” he condescends. 

You bite your lip anxiously and continue reading, “Humans are social animals that n-need social interaction,” Jungkook spits in his hand, “the extent of our social relationships is the most important predictor of h-happiness.” You squeal when you feel wet fingers graze your folds, but you know better than to stop and ask what he’s doing.

“Continue,” he coaxes softly as he brushes his fingertips over your pussy lips. 

“Um, o-one of the main reasons our brains have developed the way they have is so that we can be social,” you speak between shaky breaths. Your cheeks are tinted crimson with embarrassment from his touches; why is he pleasuring you when he specifically told you, you didn’t deserve any? “Being happy a-all of the time is neither possible nor desirable.”

“Is it now?” He slips a finger in your cunt and you involuntarily let out a cry as you push your body forward. You don’t notice him holding up your phone behind you while slowly sliding his finger in and out of you. His saliva is mixing with your arousal as you answer in a gasp, “Yes.”

“Tell me why.”

“B-Because negative feelings are natural. When it comes to negative feelings, the most important thing to remember is to learn,” you pause to exhale with quivering lips, “to control certain potentially harmful thoughts.” You whine his name when another finger is added to your heat. You’re moving your hips back and forth until he slaps your wet folds as a warning. “Sorry,” you peep and continue in a breath, “Happiness all of the time entails epistemic irrationality.”

It’s difficult to keep your eyes open when you just want to indulge in his thrusts, but you’re encouraged to stop reading when he doesn’t comment on your moans. His pace is quickening and you chase his fingers with your hips, cum dripping down his wrist as you mewl.  

“You enjoying yourself, whore?”

You nod and whimper, “So much.” You’re clutching the edge of the desk as he fingers you with fervor.

“And you're my girl?” 

“Yes, all yours, I love you so much,” you pant, not stopping for a moment to question his words. He has a full view of your sopping wet cunt on the camera, and he lightly blows on you, making you shiver. He’s recording you confess your love for him while getting fingered.

“Only me?” he presses.

“Only you, Jungkook, I love you more than anything,” you slur as you start to feel a knot in your stomach.

“Then pee.”

“Wh-What?”

“Touch your clit and pee.” He removes his fingers from your clenching hole and takes a step back. “Prove your love to me.”

You mourn the loss of his hand while staring wide-eyed at the floor. You’re contemplating his demand as your hand slowly reaches down to your clit. Is he asking you to squirt? Your breathing is shallow as you near your climax, and you still don’t know if you’ll go through with his requirement.

It drips out in tiny drops as you come undone, moaning as clear liquid spills out of you for only a few seconds. 

“Good girl, my good little girl,” Jungkook whispers as he intently watches you humiliate yourself in the name of love. You’re twitching and trembling in shame when he stops recording you and sends it to Jimin without a second’s waste. “Are you okay, baby?”

You hum with a pout as you collect yourself by standing up straight, a sway in your posture. 

“Give me your panties, you’ve made a mess on the floor,” he chastises as he holds out a hand. You slip and step out of them before giving it to him. In return, he passes your phone before feigning a gasp, “Shit, I think I sent Jimin a video of you when I was trying to forward it to my phone.”

Your mouth falls open as heat consumes your entire being. “H-Huh?” Tears brim in your eyes almost instantly; your heart is pounding from anxiety.

“How will you ever look at him now,” he empathizes with a fake frown. “He must think of you as such a slut now.”

“Let me delete it,” you panic as you open your phone. “Wh-Where is it?”

He motions you to give him the phone and opens WhatsApp after. “He’s already seen it.” There are two blue ticks under the message.

“No, no, no,” you pull your hair in agony with a whimper. You quickly put your pants back on and cry as you do so.

“I guess that’s the end of your friendship,” he raises his eyebrows to himself without a hint of sympathy.

“What do I do?!” you wail and fling your hands in stress.

“Avoid him. I’ll make sure he won’t leak it.”

He steps forward to lean in your face intimidatingly. “And don’t talk to him ever again.”

You don’t exactly have a choice now, do you?