#i barely tweaked him. what do you mean hes fine.

[fushiguruuzzzz]

+ CHAPTER FOUR // RUN IT BACK

series mlist 

Tags — mentions of catcalling-ish/a creepy comment, mentions of violence, the texts and the written part don’t connect it’s sort of just two separate parts, I’m only now realizing how odd the divs look I’m apologizing but not changing it, your phone isn’t tweaking the last two images are supposed to be transparent Words — 1.3k

The day was gloomy, the sound of downpour fading in and out with every opening of the front door. Had you been at home, your only company would be a good book and possibly a roll of raw cookie dough, maybe Nobara curled up at your side and updating you on the details of a couple in her design class. But you weren't at home, you were stuck here, surrounded by blurred faces and the smell of damp socks. You would be sure to use this against Miwa until the end of time, you told yourself. After a pathetically small amount of begging and the explanation that you think involved her boyfriend, you agreed. You knew she wasn't one to ditch out just because, so you barely bothered hearing her out before doing the favour. You were beginning to regret that.

You'd been spaced out for so long that you didnt even notice the oddly familiar head of hair, sat lowly and just almost resting on the back of the booth's seat. He stood out against the worn, ruby leather, a collection of pastels sitting on something dull and worn. Something bright and new presented to you, surrounded by familiarity. The deep lilac of his irises were trained on you, not exactly burning into you, but rather drinking you in. He wasn't harsh or searing or intimidating, he didn't make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and he didn't make you feel hot all over. He was soft, a whisper within the pitter patter of the rain, he was the warmth of coffee slipping down your throat on a cold day (even if sometimes, it ended up on the floor). 

You met his eye, and the corners of his lips tugged up into a smile. It spoke louder than words, a reminder of the fleeting experiences you’d shared without ever truly having a conversation. 

“Toge,” you greeted softly as you walked over, voice sugary sweet and laced with something he couldn’t put his finger on. 

He replied with a smile, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes crinkled as he did. “Y/n.”

“No company this time?” 

You swear that his cheeks heated up just the slightest bit, and he glanced down for a second before turning back. “No, they bring bad luck… as you could see.” 

Your brows quirked upwards playfully, hands falling down to your hips. The notepad you were holding pressed gently into your side—a reminder of what you were actually supposed to be doing. “You sure they’re the bad luck?” 

“Yes,” he said, all too quickly and all too defensive. It was hard to suppress a smile by now, and you could very easily tell that he was facing the same problem. He was inside his own head locking himself for looking like a dork, but the bigger part of him knew that he truly was. I mean, last time you’d seen him he was double fisting instant ramen and short circuiting trying to decide whether to say hi or avoid you altogether, the internal conflict sending him into overdrive and leaving him standing there like he’d stared into the eyes of Medusa. 

But he was here now, and he was functioning just fine aside from his heart speeding up. 

He gave you his order and made sure not to stutter. He watched you longingly as you disappeared into the big grey double doors that led to the back, and he beat himself up for not saying more. He had another chance though, right? And he’d be sure to take it. So when you trotted back out, hips swaying ever so slightly and the pink of your lipgloss reflecting the glow of the piercing lights above, he wasn’t going to cower away. Toge was used to being friendly, but holding a conversation… yikes.  

“…are you busy right now?” 

You glanced down from where you stood over him, catching the awkwardness in the way he shifted. You gave a soft shake of the head, motioning to the nearly empty section around you. 

“Great. So… maybe you could sit…?” he asked. He tried to feign nonchalance, but the nervous rasp in his voice was hard to miss. Something warm curled in your chest, and you simply couldn’t find it in yourself to deny him. Not when he was staring up at you, biting his cheek and silently screaming ‘I’m not usually this awkward, I swear!’ 

Sliding into the seat across from him, the cool leather pressed into you through your pants. You didn’t even realize when you started chatting away—it just came so naturally that it the beginning and the end were blurred. It faded in and out calmly, like the tide on a warm, empty day at the beach. Talking was easy with Toge. He followed everything you said with a nod and an approving hum, made sure you knew he was paying attention. He was undeniably present, but it wasn’t loud or suffocating. He was just there, gentle and warm and fresh. If someone asked you to recount the conversation, all you could remember was the way his light hair fell in tufts over his face as he nodded at something you said. If they asked him, he’d probably be able to recite it like it was a subject he’d studied for years. 

“So…” he said, voice soft as he tried to figure out a way to bring this up. If it hadn’t been you, he didn’t want to figure that out once it was too late and embarrass himself. He also feared that if it were you, he’d look creepy—or worse, make you uncomfortable. Based on the way you’d scrambled into the darkness of the sketchy corner alley, it didn’t take a scientist to figure out you weren’t up to any good. Did he have the right to mention it? Probably not. But sometimes the curiosity in his veins ran deeper than the need to keep you comfortable, so he didn’t stop himself. “You into rock?” 

You hoped the way your eyes widened ever so slightly and your spit catching in your throat wasn’t noticeable, but it was. It shouldn’t have been such a secret, but it was just so… not you. If he liked you, he figured he liked you how he saw you now. Your hobbies were quite the opposite, and the possible backlash was enough to make the words die on your tongue. 

“Y/n!” shouted a voice from the kitchen, making your body jolt up with the relief of an excuse to swerve the topic. You slithered out of the seat with a small smile and a heated face, basically running to the back. “That should be your order. I should uh… I should get back to work. I’ll see you!” 

When you were out of view, he let out a huff. His shoulders slumped, and he rested his head on the rough table for a second. You’d gotten away for a second time. Maybe this was the last. 

But then he walked out of the diner and looked at his receipt, only to see a ten digit number scribbled into the back of it. Underneath was your name with a little smiley face. He grinned, let out a breath of victorious (maybe surprised) laughter, and put it into his pocket. 

It wasn’t the last chance he had. He didn’t know it yet, but the universe seemed to align so that he’d have many, many more. 

Can you feel it in the air? That warmth? Yeah it’s romance

getting the story movingggg

they all thought Toge was a loser for going back

little did they know he got that bag

I apologize if these seem rushed because they somewhat are, I’m just not as motivated to write this series as I am other things :)

Also if you saw a post about this being posted at 6:40 no u didn’t.

yep we’re back chat. I’ve been flopping lately someone kill me for Emma got like 100 notes gang I’m gonna end it ALL. tbh I feel like that was deserved it wasn’t my best but it made people cry so a win is a win (pls stop attacking me I had three people in my messages ATTACKING me at once) oh… yall aren’t gonna like what I’m cooking up.

Taglist — 47/50 (as of posting. Check masterlist)

@anotherwriternamedclara @ruruisru @adoresia @auroratumbles @sh0ot1ngst4r @soobin1437 @mystic-megumi @cinnamxnangel @lizbix @s3ns4ti0n4l @anonnieghost @s4toruz @gumims @bubybubsters @k4ss11333 @rreveurdoll @kaged-kitty @rwura @aldebrana @hqnge @good-mourning0 @daisies-and-domming @vi0let-writes @dazaisfavgf @hearts4aloise @coolgirl458 @keyaea @jealovsie @sirenla @academiq @mammoanlmao @moonchhu @ichcocat @blubearxy @hayl09 @q2uq2u @potteraep @fiannee @lailakys @jxisnwaol @treeguzzler @nanaanatiion @zayuriluvs @kr1nqu @cloudxox @azinniyaa @laaalaaaloooppppsiiieeeee

— I removed the people who haven’t changed their tag settings after 3 chapters, so there’s been some space cleared up! You’ll be removed if your tags don’t work for three chapters straight, so please make sure they’re correct :) if you’ve fixed them don’t be afraid to comment and ask me to add you back

[ssspringroll]

Hold on- wh- hold on--

[candiiee]

foreigner! reader, who can only swear and say the basics in Japanese.

“balls.”

“w-what?”

“hi.”

foreigner! reader who calls Izuku by his first name and is so confused when he tweaks out and practically bursts into flames.

“Hi, Izuku!”

“o-oh! uh, um, this is just so sudden..”

“what?”

foreigner! reader who wonders why Izuku is trying to learn to speak their native language, with hilarious results.

“um, uh, h-how are y-you t-today..?”

“Um, good thank you! You?”

(in Japanese) “oh..I didn’t learn that far.”

foreigner! reader who doesn’t understand their customs and didn’t understand what White Day is and didn’t know it even existed in the first place.

“..what’s this?”

“oh! um, chocolates…for you.”

“oh! thanks! That’s so nice of you.” :) [they said in a very friendly way and didn’t give it a second thought. shame on you]

“yeah…nice..”

foreigner! reader who wonders why Izuku looks so dejected and depressed the next day, unaware they practically rejected him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah! Why wouldn’t I be? I’m with you, my very platonic friend who will never love me back!”

“Mm, alright.”

foreigner! reader who can tell he is very much not okay, but doesn’t know how to put it in words. nor did they understand what he said earlier.

foreigner! reader who wonders why Mina is so very adamant about making them sit together on the bus, practically squishing them together, as Izuku glares daggers at her, trying to stop the blush from creeping onto his freckled face.

“do..you..hate..me?” you finally asked, trying to pronounce the words that you barely learned yesterday, wanting to make sure he was okay.

Izuku flushed, trying to remind himself that he was perfectly fine being your friend, and never clawing his way out of the friend zone. “oh! um, of course not!”

“He wants you so bad and he’s depressed you rejected him on white day.” Mina buts in, from her seat from behind.

“..come again?” You ask, not quite understanding what she said.

“she said nothing! Absolutely nothing!!” Izuku practically screamed, trying to get her to go away.

“He wants that cookie so effing bad!” hagakure squealed, giggling.

“I really don’t understand..” poor you, trying to understand all the Japanese that they say.

Mina whips out her phone, the translator app at the ready.

Izuku’s eyes widen, trying to reach for the phone, “No!”

Mina smirks, “Relax. I’m just gonna ask them if they knows what white day is.”

Izuku falters, but lets her. “You better ask them just that.”

Mina types in her phone quickly shows you the screen.

“white..day?” you ask, in English.

You write down in the app, and Mina noogies Izuku. “See! They don’t know what White day is! They didn’t mean to reject you!”

“well that’s a relief..” he mumbled to himself.

“But if you do confess to them! Do it romantically! Not on a bus! Got it?”

Izuku swallows, then nods. “Y-yeah.. okay.”

Having caught none of that, and feeling very left out, “What..were you talking about?”

Back comes his blush, “Nothing! Absolutely nothing!” He squeaks.

[elementroar]

Analysis of Paracelsus' initial bloodlust and its longlasting effects on A.B.A (Part 2)

Analysis behind the backstory and personal story arcs of A.B.A. and Paracelsus (part 1)

So this actually started out more of a 'funny' post, but I realized that it really is a very important insight into how A.B.A. and Paracelsus function and interact, especially for his earlier days in XX/Accent Core +R

And I wasn't joking about the vore. It's not in the erotic sense...but it certainly is in the 'literally eating parts of your partner ' sense...

Also apologies for the long word dumps, it got wordier and longer than I expected.

Paracelsus (used to) REALLY love blood

It goes without saying, Paracelsus really loves blood. Well he used to anyway.

By STRIVE, he says he felt he lost his sanity whenever he gets hyped on blood in the past. To the point, he has sworn off blood (and violence) as if it was an addiction. Basically, he has managed to go clean sometime between their last appearance and STRIVE.

To not go too far into his backstory again (which you can read here), Paracelsus is a magical axe that fed on blood and increased his own power with blood; and would use warriors as hosts to cause more bloodshed and thus gain more blood and power for himself. Paracelsus doesn't need to 'eat' blood to survive (he was left host-less for about 20 years, and now abstains in STRIVE and is just fine), making the addiction metaphor seem to be accurate.

Back in XX/ACCENT CORE, he needed to drink fresh blood to transform into his superpowered Moroha mode (this is mechanically replaced by Jealous Rage mode now). Similar to his current gameplay, he could get blood and transform by A.B.A. piercing someone with his bladed end; or if A.B.A. fed him one of three blood packs she'd have on her.

He reacts pretty much like a dog getting a treat, anticipating it when she reaches into her pockets for a pack too. And he truly didn't care where the blood comes from, even if it's from A.B.A. herself.

A.B.A. coughs up blood and all Paracelsus wants to do is have a taste. Note that he barely actually reacts to her or himself getting hit or fighting in the old games. It's kind of a stark contrast to his many reactions and concern for her wellbeing now.

Make no mistake, despite being "kinder and gentler" than how he treated his previous hosts - by not completely mind controlling her into a frenzy and caring enough that he doesn't want her to die - Paracelsus was truly obsessed with drinking blood still, and all the fighting skills and power he imparted on A.B.A. was to make her strong enough to defeat opponents and gather blood for him too. Hence the 'manipulation' he felt guilty of in STRIVE.

And he gets even more bloodthirsty in Moroha mode aka what Paracelsus is without his 'sanity'.

You're the worse you when on blood

Prior to STRIVE and Paracelsus' current sludgy form, his powered-up form gave him a goat's head and his persona changes into that of his old berserker self.

This increase in aggression and bloodlust also affected A.B.A. through their empathetic bond, making her also take joy in violence and also clearly hyperventilating and tweaking out in some animations, like she's high.

Not to mention that to fight in this mode, every time Paracelsus makes a successful attack, A.B.A. also gets damaged (hence 'Moroha' mode as it means 'double-edged'). In-universe, this could mean that Paracelsus is sapping both the blood of an opponent and A.B.A. at the same time, indiscriminately as he says.

And he seems somewhat crueler in this form, as he has an even more violent and vicious state above Moroha mode called Goku Moroha mode. He enters it by consuming another blood pack, but he also seems to bite down on A.B.A.'s hand without a care and holds onto it while he transforms.

The impact of all this on A.B.A

Picking up Paracelsus was truly a double-edged sword/axe for A.B.A. On one hand, he was older and savvier about the outside world (even though he spent like 20 years just rusting away on the ground somewhere) and having him as her emotional support key and literal weapon led her to actually daring to explore the outside world, and he provided and (attempted to) advised her on things she didn't know about.

On the other hand, Paracelsus' satiating his bloodthirst was still his main objective, and it was also hurting A.B.A. Although Paracelsus was making some effort to not outright get her killed, A.B.A's additional resilience as a homunculus probably also helped her survive take being Paracelsus' host as long as she did.

Paracelsus was the original toxic element in their relationship, and it's likely over the years he's come to realize and regrets the harm he was doing to A.B.A. constantly, and why he has completely sworn off blood and violence entirely by STRIVE.

However, his bloodlust fueled and amplified the worse tendencies of A.B.A. from early on, and this seems to have stuck with her till the present in STRIVE. Her current extremely violent reaction when feeling jealousy or anxiety is likely how she's been conditioned to do so by Paracelsus, even when he himself is no longer the source of that bloodlust.

The difference now is that A.B.A.'s new powered-up state of Jealous Rage is mainly fueled by her wrath and fear instead of Paracelsus' bloodlust. Paracelsus becomes sludge now, affected by the toxicity of her unstable emotions going haywire and her will becoming decidedly dominant over his. The one who is toxic has become inverted.

What's more, it seems that the skills Paracelsus imparted on her before also carried over and stuck with her, allowing her to fight independently since Paracelsus isn't trying to encourage her to violence this time. She's become so dominant that she now can even force a new form/transformation onto Paracelsus when she does her Overdrive The Law is Key, Key is King while in Jealous Rage.

In the game files, this red form is called the "Hyoui" form, meaning 'possession'. It being red is interesting because it seems to be a callback to Paracelsus' moniker of being the Sanguine Gale. The concept art also shows the pretty disturbing way he's being morphed into it by A.B.A. when she does the Overdrive.

When in her Jealous Rage mode, the bottom half Paracelsus' where his axe blade is, somehow becomes more axe-like than it ever has been in the games. In the earlier games, his blade half didn't change, only his head does into the goat-head. What's more disturbing is that eyes already started appearing on the axe half even while Paracelsus tries to maintain his original face as much as possible.

When executing the Overdrive, A.B.A. swings with the axe half as the sludge pulls from Paracelsus' face to form this new toothed red axe head. Is it a new persona? Is Paracelsus still conscious in his face half or in the axe half at all? Does 'possession' have double meaning where A.B.A. is possessed by her own wrath, but also Paracelsus is now the one being possessed by A.B.A.'s will into forming the red axe form?

The interesting thing too is that A.B.A. executes the Overdrive with precise strikes, liked a skilled warrior. IMO, at this moment A.B.A. ironically became the exact kind of warrior that berserker Paracelsus would have wanted and caused him to even revert back into that primal early form of his that was barely sentient. They gained perfect synergy for the attack, but both are literally out of their minds.

What started this post

Just a funny thing but the reason why I even thought of, and then looked into all this, was because of A.B.A.'s biting of Paracelsus at the top of the post. I was wondering why Paracelsus doesn't say a word of protest when she does this to him, then remembered that he used to kinda drink her blood (and turns out he too has bitten her before), and I think he's prolly thinking "I deserve this".

[grimesgirll]

heyy could you write Negan smut, with them both fighting for dominance while they fuck, taunting each other; Maybe because they known each other before the apocalypse so she isn’t as intimidated by Negan like the rest.

you have to be the hottest thing he’s seen in quite sometime.

negan, simon, and dwight had heard the gunshots from your shotgun and stumbled upon you; all alone, fending off a few dozen walkers.

simon had insisted that they leave and not risk their safety for “some broad”, and negan was on board until he realized that wasn’t just any broad - it was you.

the three cut through the horde of walkers at negan's insistence. braving bloated corpses and trudging over the trampled isn't a simple feat - even with guns. minutes pass until you're finally face to face. half dazed, you did a double take once your eyes suddenly met the disgraced gym teacher's.

then you hit the ground.

when you woke up, mr. smith was there. you were shocked to see him and even more surprised to learn that he was the leader of an up and coming survival group.

“what about your wife?” you’d asked. “mrs. smith is really cool.”

made slightly dramatic by age, the pained twist of the former faculty's face has you regretting your question.

mrs. smith was really cool.

mr. smith had once been too. kind as well. negan is looks cool, and you can't deny that there's a cult of personality that can't be beat with him. not kind though.

no, you'd learned your first week that the gym teacher who had once teased you about college partying on the playground was now a certified psychopath. as a teaching assistant and faculty shadow at the school, you'd befriended negan easily. the two of you pulled off witty banter as you dropped the kids off for gym, even accepting invitations to join the day's activity.

mr. smith was no more and negan's now burning faces off. you'd seen that. just like you'd seen the floggings, the beatings, the spankings, and even the wall. waking up one day to see the nurse you'd grown fond of outside wandering as a walker was enough for you to tweak.

“what did she do?”

negan looks up from a map of northern virginia to grin at you. “hey, doll! what’s goin’ on?” he kicks his feet up on the desk. “don’t see much of you around here.”

“yeah, because i can barely get by your goons.”

he shrugs. “seems like you got up here just fine.”

you’d sideskirted fat joey when he left his post to top off his dr. pepper. it was easy enough to walk your way to negan’s office to confront him.

“why is the woman who trained me walking around the front yard as a zombie?” you question, not breaking eye contact with the smirking leader. “what could she have done to deserve that?” you let out an exasperated breath, reigning it in with another deep umhals before asking, “don’t you think that’s fucking extreme?”

if negan softens, you really can’t tell. all that comes from the man is a laugh. “you mean the nurse who was planning on robbin’ us all blind and hightailing it with nearly all of our narcotics?”

you don’t even have the care to gawk at him. “could she not have been rehabilitated?”

he scoffs at you. “once an addict, always an addict.”

a sudden wave of dread comes over you, and for a moment you think it may be your lunch coming back up but one look at your former fellow faculty member and you know it’s purely disgust.

“she was my friend!”

“you’ll make more!”

“she was my only friend here,” the words croak out of your mouth.

negan just chews on his lip and shrugs. “sorry, honey, you’ll just have to start bein’ friendlier then.” a smirk spreads across his leather-like, aged face. “might have to drop the whole resting bitch face.”

you’re fuming. the column of rage growing from your belly pangs with no place to go. “for you freaks?”

your outburst has fat joey huffing and puffing his way through the threshold of the door.

“everything, okay, boss?” the grunt looks from your red face to his relaxed leader. “sorry bout’ her. she shouldn’t be up here.”

negan waves a hand. “don’t worry about it, joey. i can handle her.”

joey nods when a “handle me?” is flying from your mouth and negan just shoots him a cheeky grin.

“let me walk you back down there, doll.” negan insists.

when he rises from his desk, you realize how he towers over you, something you’d never clocked despite how often you two had been in close quarters back at school. you’re glaring up to meet his dark eyes - the ones that glint in the light like he hadn’t subjected a young woman to the most gruesome death - not including her life after death.

“this way, you,” negan is shepherding you with a hand on your back and all you can do is grumble as you pass his lazy goon.

once the two of you are in the hallway, you slap his hand off of him. “don’t touch me,” you sneer.

he chuckles. “whatever you wish, princess, just stop interrupting me from my important shit with your emotional shit, ‘kay?”

you shake your head. “what would mrs. smith think of all this? surely you don’t think you’re in the right. your wife would’ve hated this.”

negan gestures to the empty, desolate stairwell the two of you are descending. “she look like she’s here?”

“doesn’t matter. what happened to your morals?” you spit, stopping in your tracks to turn and face the taller man, standing on a higher step so that you’re both at eye level. “you were a school teacher.”

“yeah, and you would’ve been dead if we hadn’t brought you in.”

“so i should be happy with the freak show you’re putting on here?”

the expressive leader throws his arms out to motion to the compound. “look around, it’s bread and circuses!” he says simply. “you work, you get a bed, and a safe place to live.” a devious expression overtakes his countenance. “and a show!”

“i hate it here.” you declare nastily.

he snorts. “you hate not being in control, and all the safe little assurances we had before. things are different now.”

“no,” you counter, face coming closer to his. “you’re different now.”

“gotta be to survive nowadays, darlin’, now hurry it up. you need to get back to stitchin’ up my men so they can go out and bring you back ravioli, morphine, soap, toilet paper, all that shit you’re bitchin’ about having.”

“you’re a psycho,” you huff at him as he ushers you down the stairs, another level, and the familiar way towards the infirmary.

“you’re just not adjusted yet. just stick to changing bedpans and we won’t have a problem,” negan instructs with a hand on your back again.

you brush him off once you two have entered the sterile, white infirmary where doctor carson is talking quietly with one of negan’s goons.

“what’s goin’ on here, doc?” negan questions, startling the two.

negan’s man is pale - and sweating buckets. the doctor stands from his bedside to face negan.

“hello, negan, we were just finishing up.”

“finishing up what?”

the pit in your stomach grows when you notice the sickly man on the bed scurrying to fold the fabric of his shirt back over his stomach. the doctor has a pokerface but you didn’t need them to answer to know what was going on.

“what’s goin’ on, dan? feelin’ alright?” negan doesn’t give the doctor a chance to answer before he’s next to his commissioned scavenger, towering over him now.

dan nods. “feelin’ fine. just scraped up and tired as hell after gettin’ back from carolina.”

“i bet!” that loud voice booms throughout the room. “mighty long trip that was. thanks again, man.” the clap to dan’s back from his leader almost has him buckling. “but you don’t look so good, bud. got something to tell me?”

“negan-,” the doctor starts but he’s quickly silenced by a simple raise of the leader’s hand.

“nope, doc. i wanna hear it from dan here.”

the man’s nervous eyes flicker from doctor carson and to you. you want to crumple where you stand. though his eyes are pleading, there’s nothing you can do. only manage your growing disgust as you watch negan reach for his sidearm.

then negan does something that surprises you, he leans down to embrace the man in a hug.

“thank you, it was just a long trip.” dan’s bumbling, but negan shushes him.

“don’t worry bout’ it, dan.”

that’s when the bullet departs the chamber and implants itself in dan’s brain.

the man who’d just been alive slumps down and falls onto the newly bloodied bedsheets. the white wall behind him is sprayed with brains and chrome. the salt and pepper haired leader stands from the bed and yawns, stretching as if he wasn’t leaving a mess of blood and trauma for you and the doctor to clean up and process.

“back to work. keep an eye on her, doc.”

“negan, you sick fuck.”

this time, negan’s holding his council and heatedly harping on gregory.

the man lets out an exasperated breath. “who the fuck wasn’t watching the door?”

his legion of doom is bewildered to see the sullen nurse standing in the doorway. dwight’s apathetic as always, but is the first to offer to escort you out while simon’s telling gregory to “shut the fuck up” and laura’s looking at you as if no one could be more annoying as to drag this meeting on.

“joey!”

one shout and you hear heavy footsteps thudding down the hall. breathing raggedly, the guard wraps himself around the doorway and drops his sandwich at the sight of you.

“so sorry, boss. she really sneaks in!”

the older man just shakes his head. “don’t let it happen again or gregory gets it.”

laughter erupts from the room. everyone at the table is dropping their dauntless demeanor as if on cue. the only one not laughing is gregory of course.

“negan, listen-,”

“ah!” negan interrupts him, straining against his leather jacket when he turns his body towards him. “you shut it! i hate having my shit interrupted, and i hate having supply drops interrupted far more than meetings.” he directs his attention from the man from hilltop back to you. “why don’t you just take a seat, honey? we’ll be done soon.”

you shake your head. “i’m not trying to stay here any longer than i have to. i need this sorted out now.”

“if you wanna talk, doll, you’ll have to wait your turn. i’m talking to gregory right now.”

“i don’t even want to talk to you.”

he exhales flippantly. “then why are you here? interrupting my important meeting.”

“i came for my shotgun.”

negan chuckles, crossing his arms. “you think you’re gettin’ that thing back? after the mood you’ve been stirring up here?”

you do your best to ignore the way he’s laughing and dismissing you or how he’s manspreading all over the chair he’s parked in.

“i need my stuff now. i’m leaving tonight.”

it’s like the air’s been sucked out of the room. you can see negan’s jaw tighten in real time, and the room stiffens. waiting for a reaction is half the angst but you don’t have time for it. don’t even want to defend your decision, especially in front of everyone here.

“out!”

chair legs scrape against the ground as some of negan’s senior partners in psychopathy begin to egress.

gregory is just looking flabbergasted. “but we had a meeting?”

“everyone, out. now!”

all it takes is a “negan doesn’t like to repeat himself” and dwight is shuffling gregory out of the room, simon taking up the rear.

“see you soon, hun’,” he taunts to you.

you don’t have enough time to process his words because he’s shutting the door behind you and probably mentally rescheduling this meeting. you could care less.

“enough, negan smith.” he blinks at the full name callout. “i want my stuff and i’ll be out of your hair. you won’t have to worry about me.”

negan’s off his feet again and sitting on top of the table now. he points to the chair next to the head. “sit.”

“i don’t want to sit.” you insist. “i already told you, i don’t want to talk, i want to go.”

“yeah, well we’re gonna talk first, so sit your ass down.”

you don’t want to spend anymore time in this nutjob factory than you have to but you want your shotgun back. so you walk across the room and you stand at the chair.

“what do you have to say to me?” you inquire.

“god, look at you!”

you roll your eyes.

“a few weeks after getting your life saved, getting your needs taken care of and you’re ready to go back to that?”

“i don’t want to be at your constant mercy.” you say plainly. “not that you can really call it mercy.”

with every retort from him being a laugh, your patience is growing thin. he snickers upon seeing your frown. “so, you want to take your chances out there instead of taking a little time to let me help figure out your problem?”

you throw up your hands. “figure out my problem? i came to you to help figure out my problem and you said to just deal with it. to ‘adjust’. well, i can’t. i can’t live like this. it’s not humane.”

“yeah, and it’s humane out there?”

“better than bitching in here.”

“well, i think i can help with that. won’t be getting your shotgun back.”

“oh, so you can’t help at all?” you snap.

he whistles. “never said that.” his eyes drop from your gaze down your torso to your thighs. he pats the table next to him. “come sit on the table.”

“no. i want to go. now.”

“alright then.”

“negan!”

you exclaim when he scootches off the table to scoop you up by your legs and middle and plop you down.

“let doctor negan see if he can help.”

“what are you-,”

“ah! look at that.”

“ah!”

the sudden sensation of a finger against your denim covered cunt has your face flushing and red. “been touched there in a while, honey?”

“just give me my shotgun,” you breathe, desperately trying with your eye contact to communicate that things aren’t going the way you expected.

“let me give you some reprieve, clear your head, and then we can see if you still want your shotgun.”

you shake your head as he starts pulling down your pants. “you think your wife would be okay with this?”

“she here?”

you curse yourself for giving him such an easy answer. you curse yourself for not doing anything other than pouting and wiggling once he’s at your waistband. you curse the little wet spot soaked though your underwear even more.

“god, i knew confrontation would get you wet.”

“so you planned this?”

the older man shakes his head, taking another moment to fully lock eyes with you, even as he towers over you on the table. “no, i’m thinking that we both walked into this.”

maybe you shouldn’t have walked in, you ponder as negan walks your undies down your thighs with his fingers and walks them right back to your dripping center. the hair you have down there is already slick, a damp curtain pried open by negan’s thick fingers.

“shit,” you rasp when a finger braves the pool of anticipation that’s only growing and delves further against your inner walls.

“want me stop there?” the fucker’s finger stills inside of you and the other dancing just above your clit comes to a halt.

you don’t respond, just lock eyes with negan and try to catch your breath. “that’s not fair,” you point out in a voice just above a whisper. “can’t stop now.”

“or can i?”

you shake your head. “don’t.”

maybe clearing the tension that’s been building like a twentieth century skyscraper inside of you will sort you out. or you could just say fuck it. the world’s ended anyways.

negan surely fucks a finger stationed inside of you back and forth. twisting and testing the waters before adding another. the extra finger curls inside you deliciously while he utilizes another to play around your clit.

the attention he’s paying to your once undisturbed nether regions is enough to have you creaking and moaning like an old door hinge and hinging forward into negan. he’s quick to let you fall forward into his arms. the sudden acceptance is all he needs to speed up.

“i know that feels good, honey.”

“mhmm,” you murmur into his shoulder.

there’s a spot inside of you that he’s massaging just right and another on your exterior; an x doesn’t need to mark the spot for him to rile up your clit. slow, lazy circles have you grinding against him on the table. how can you bemoan him when he’s about to pull the perfect release from you?

you know that because your breath is picking up again and you’re blubbering into his sturdy shoulder. those motions are telltale. mrs. smith’s memory hasn’t kept this man celibate.

the widower has his hand on your back again and the hand beneath you has its own task. the task at hand is executed with more skill than any boy you’d ever fooled around with in college or anyone who came after - not that there were many given how things had gone. you’d like to think that if shit hadn’t hit the fan, you would’ve settled down with someone like mr. smith but younger. this would have to do.

“clenchin’ so tight just around my fingers, baby. you always had the hots for me?”

you shake your head no truthfully. “this is the hots?”

“you feel hot down there baby, and my are you hot.” he lands the compliment with a kiss. you lean in, letting his tongue slip into your mouth because you’re too occupied with the build up brewing inside of you.

one glance down between you two and you see his fingers pumping. your heart rate jumps when you see the addition of another and now you’re being stretched out on his fingers on this table.

“god, you’re gorgeous. what a sweet little thing to have fallen into my lap.”

you curl further into his lap, legs now around him and his fingers knuckle deep inside of you. all he has to do is curl his fingers and you’re yowling. “mhm, they’re deep.” you say, brain just observing.

“too deep?”

“no.”

thus, they plunge further. until the extra finger on the outside is stirring up more than your slick and heat courses through you. you shudder against negan but that doesn’t stop his routine. the shape of his fingers change inside of you and you’re bucking against him to feel each one.

“fuck, i’m gonna come,” you don’t want to say it out loud but you do anyways.

“on my fingers?” negan sniggers. “you poor thing. c’mon now, i know it must’ve been a while.” he presses the pad of his thumb against your clit. “just let go, honey, it’ll help.”

and it does.

letting your lizard brain take the lead is all you need for your mind to go blank. if even for a second, it releases the anxiety and the anger that’d consumed you. you pulse and clamp down around his digits until suddenly he’s not moving at all but you’re rotating your hips against him.

riding out such a feeling, you blink the tears out of your eyes and do a double take once you notice negan removing his fingers and starting on his belt.

“what’re you doing?” you question, pussy still pulsing with a mind of its own.

“if you thought that helped you relax, this will put you to sleep. no more sleeping pills for you, darlin’.”

“how did you know about that?”

“doctor carson doesn’t keep secrets from me. he didn’t need to tell me you weren’t adjusting well either.” negan states matter-of-factly, then dropping his blue plaid boxers.

you’re not sure how you’re going to adjust to the sight you’re met with. the cock in front of you is larger than any you’ve ever seen before. if negan’s fingers had you losing it, this thing will ruin you.

“i don’t think it’s gonna fit,” you admit when his hands land on your hips.

the distance between your needy bare entrance and his thick dick is only inches now. you shudder at the longing that’s whipping you and your thoughts around. you moan when he slides his hard, veiny cock against your entrance, slapping it against you once for good measure.

“nope, you’re tougher than you think.”

you meet his eyes again as if to question him. sure, he feels good against you but this is next level. better than fiction but what would happen after you both got your orgasms out of the way?

there’s no time for you to speculate because his lips are on yours again and you feel him lining himself up against you. “you want me to fuck all those fears out of your head, honey? you wanna feel good?”

how can you say no to that?

one nod of your head and his tip is teasing you. it takes you telling him, “please, put it in. i want it,” and then he’s plunging inside.

your face scrunches as a little burn becomes prominent from his size, but he kisses the lines away from your face. your temple, your nose, your lips, your cheek, he’s kissing you, saying, “good girl. you’re doing fantastic.”

you just eat up the praise and look down to see your pussy devouring him whole. the first two or three inches were a struggle just from lack of use but your lack of pleasure - the near sexual deprivation you’d experienced since shit hit the fan - overcomes it, and is pleasantly fulfilled.

in and out of you, negan works his hips and you can’t be happier. could a man you’d branded a psycho just minutes before be so adept at addressing your pleasure?

seems like it.

“god, you fuck well for a gym teacher.”

negan won’t let the snide comment slide so he wraps up his tour of purple rain against your collarbone to simper at you. “yeah, and for a frigid bitch, this pussy is hot and ready.”

“maybe i’m one of those dumb girls who’s attracted to psychos and serial killers?” you ponder playfully and wrap your arms negan’s neck to pull him in closer.

“oh, i’m gonna fuck you dumb, honey, don’t worry.” and with a roll of his hips, you have no reason to worry he won’t live up to his words.

you whine when he suddenly rams into you. his girth juts along your tight, inner walls. you meet his gaze again and just looking at his smug face has you tightening around him.

“god, baby, did you just fuckin’ squeeze me?”

“can you adjust?”

he grunts. “can you?”

you don’t have time to ask what you could possibly have to adapt to next because negan’s turning you into your stomach onto the table, tossing his leather jacket down for you to bury your face into. his absence from between your thighs brings on another whine but one moment of motion and now you feel him flush against your back, filling you to the brink with his cock.

“yeah, bet that brain can’t even think about an escape plan with that dumb little pussy stuffed so full. you gonna’ be able to walk tomorrow, honey?” he asks you tenderly as if he’s not on the verge of taking out your cervix.

“ne-negan! sto-,”

“-stop what?” he gyrates his hips nice and slow into you, dragging on the sensitive insides of your poor, overstimulated little cunt. “stop fucking you? because the way your pussy is clampin’ down, i don’t even know how i’m backing out of here baby.”

“don’t!” you beg.

“what?” he leans down to take your chin in his hands and see the angsty, pleasure induced tear starting to roll down your cheek. “god, you even look pretty when you cry. fuckin’ face like that.”

hips are stammering and negan’s words burn straight through to your core. he moans like a motherfucker when he feels the squeeze of your clingy little core on him. haywire all of this had gone, and now your climax is taking you over the edge.

“negan, don’t stop. don’t stop. don’t be an asshole,” you’re pleading.

he’s back to spearing you on his cock, leveraging your hips and throwing his head back. “don’t think i could, baby. not with a pussy this fucking fantastic.”

the praise is what does you in for the second time. any thought of undead nurses or public floggings leaves your brain and all you’re left with is the molten hot pleasure exploding inside of you. negan’s hand drifts down to your clit to have you absolutely crushing his cock.

“god, doll, you’re fuckin’ tight. so fuckin’ hot when you come like that. gonna have me doing a fuckin’ one and done for now.”

the huskiness of his voice and the twitch of him against your walls only eggs you on. your eyes are shut tight but you he’s all you can imagine. head on top of his jacket, you breathe in his scent, musky with a hint of the same cologne he wore back at school, and you’re creaming around him.

“fuck, doll!”

and he’s shooting his cream inside of you. the warmth fills you up and you no longer have the energy to move. any gyration of your hips has halted. a few more thrusts and he’s in the same boat. he collapses atop you for just a moment before pulling out and padding towards the table against the wall laden with napkins and refreshments that were supposed to be for the meeting.

you don’t turn your head but you can hear him grabbing some paper towels off the roll and clutching some other things.

“just gonna wipe between your legs,” he instructs and you let him.

your forehead against the table and those pretty eyes squeezed shut has negan rethinking a thing or two. suddenly he’s regretting not fucking you like the sweet thing you are. you deserved better than a table - at least his soft, king sized mattress if not a cloud.

once he finishes, he pats your back and nudges you up where he’s waiting with a water bottle - already open with the cap off. you accept with no issue and gulp the mini-sized bottle down easily.

“listen, why don’t you have dinner with the girls and i tonight? i’m not gonna give you your shotgun back just yet, but might change your mind about some things.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Three for One 8

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you’re used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what’s on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: Almost to the holiday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 💞

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

“Well,” Ransom stops in the doorway as you stand on the tile, Ernie at your heels, “grab a bowl for the damn dog.”

You look at him but say nothing. Ernie isn’t mean without reason so you hardly feel bad for him. He must’ve done something really bad to make the giant sweetheart into such a beast.

You go to the counter and reach to the cupboard. He doesn’t offer any direction as you find only glasses and mugs inside. You move to the next; dry goods and cans. You shift back the other way and pop open another door; there’s a stack of bowls inside. A bit small but it’ll have to do.

As you clasp the edge of the bowl, you feel a sudden presence behind you. Before you can react, Ransom is against you, his arms hooking under yours as he cups your tits in his hands. He rocks with you as Ernie snarls.

“Get the dog to shut up,” he squeezes. “Or I’ll feed it bleach.”

You call Ernie’s name. He gives one last rumble but quiets. You set the bowl on the counter as Ransom leans into you, nuzzling your head as he fondles you. You hope he can’t feel your heart pounding.

“Mmm, they feel just as nice as they look. Why don’t you slip that sweater off so I can get a taste,” he pushes you against the counter, “you give that fuzzy-lipped bastard the good stuff–”

“Goddamnit,” Andy’s hiss cuts through the tension. Ransom sighs onto your hair, giving a tweak through the wool before reluctantly parting, “keep your hands to yourself.”

“Oh, come on,” Ransom spins and stomps his foot, “what are we even waiting for? We do all this–” He gestures with his hand, “and you’re bossing me around like a child.”

“You are,” Andy accuses as he approaches and puts down the bag of kibble on the counter, “I salvaged what I can,” he says to you directly.

“Um, thank you,” you swallow. He smiles before he faces the other man again, “we haven’t even opened our presents.”

Ransom narrows his eyes as his cheek ticks. He arches a brow and shrugs, “fine. So why don’t we get it over with?”

“Breakfast first,” Andy insists. “It’s tradition.”

“Who’s fucking tradition?”

“They have to start somewhere, don’t they?” Andy challenges. 

You frown. Tradition. You really hope you don’t have time to build any of those.

“Honey, you stay, help me with breakfast,” Andy turns his back on Ransom, “the other two can get the table ready…” he pauses and looks over his shoulder, “you can handle that, can’t you?”

Ransom’s nostrils flare and he bares his teeth. He kind of reminds you of Ernie when he does that. The dog tilts his head curiously as he watches the scene, ignorant of the words but sensing the vibes.

“You’d be surprised what I’m capable of,” Ransom growls. “Have fun playing fucking house.”

He storms off, his shoulder hitting the door frame in his anger and drawing a grunt from him. You flinch and bring your hands up to wring. Andy tuts and faces the counter, glancing over at you.

“Are you alright, honey?” He asks, letting his hand fingers flutter to the edge of your cuff.

“Yeah,” you answer smally. That’s what he wants. For you to be helpless, to need him. And you do, just not the way he intends. “He… he isn’t nice like you.”

The corners of his lips curve just a little as his eyes search you, “you think so?”

You nod and slide the bowl off the counter, “I’m going to feed Ernie.”

“Alright,” he relents and takes a step back, “uh, yeah, he’s probably starving.”

You move around Andy and dip the bowl into the bag of kibble. He clears his throat and goes to work, pulling down ingredients. Nothing fancy. He sets a box of pancake batter as he pulls the waffle maker away from the wall. Your stomach growls loudly and Andy grins in your direction.

“You too, huh?”

You smile over the bowl of kibble in your hands, “a little, yeah.” You turn to Ernie as he sniffs the air and drools. You go to him and bend your knees to put the bowl on the floor. You know he’s watching. Good, he’s just as simple as the others.

🎀

You’re the only one who seems interested in the meal. Only because it gives you something to focus on to keep your imagination from straying too far. Of course, you’re not as stupid as these men think. You know all too well their intent. Yet there efforts continue to confound you.

You offer to clean up. Another excuse to keep yourself busy. Away from them. Andy insists that he does that task and sends you off the other two to the front room. You’re less than eager to walk between them as they get closer and closer, nearly squishing you as you reach your destination.

You flit away from them and claim a spot in the lone armchair. Ernie follows and sits at your feet. He keeps his head up, panting as he watches the men and you avoid looking at them altogether. Lloyd strolls along the mantle and sucks his teeth as Ransom sits on the extension of the sectional.

“Fucking lame…” Lloyd mutters.

“Tell me about it,” Ransom agrees, the clink of dishes sounding from the kitchen.

You hate to admit it so you won’t, but they’re right. 

Your eyes drift along and settle on the tree. There are a slew of wrapped gifts underneath. They weren’t there the day before.

The awkward silence doesn’t last long as Andy emerges. He looks around, tucking his hands in his pockets as he takes in the room. He’s not in his typical suit. You didn’t take time to notice before but he looks cozy. He wears a blue sweater and a pair of jeans a shade darker. It makes him look softer than usual.

You check the other men. They’re not very festive. They wear what you can only assume is their usual look. Lloyd in a tight black tee which does little to conceal the buds of his nipples. Your gaze wants to fixate there but you resist that odd temptation. He’s paired the dark top with a pair of pine striped ankle pants and velvet loafers. You call it douche formal. The customers who dress like that usually don’t even understand how to check the website.

Then Ransom. Not too dissimilar to Andy but still himself. An ivory sweater with brown pants, a locket peeking out below his collar from the slim gold chain around his neck. It screams rich prick trying too hard to look like he’s not trying.

The one thing these men have in common is their ignorance. They don’t know, they never considered that you can read them. You spent years in retail, you know people. A little more than you like. They took your demeanour as innocent and naive, they don’t consider it as defensive.

“Alright, finally, let’s open some presents,” Andy claps his hands together.

“Before we start,” Lloyd leans beside the mantle, “I have a question?”

Andy looks at him, waiting.

“Shouldn't you be doing this with your family–”

“Shut the fuck up,” Andy snaps but stops himself, showing his palm, “that’s not for you to worry about.”

“I’m looking out for you–”

“I know what you’re doing,” Andy points at him.

Lloyd snickers.

“I’d like to make a suggestion,” Ransom stands, Ernie tense as he does. They look at each other. “Can we put the dog away?

All three men look at Ernie. You look back at them as you reach to pet the dog’s broad head.

“He’s not hurting anyone,” you plead.

“Not yet,” Ransom scoffs.

“Look, pussy cat, you’re lucky that thing’s even here.”

You want to scowl and bite back. They knew you had a dog when they took you. You mentioned him several times. It’s not exactly your fault they didn’t factor him into the equation.

“We don’t want him to get worked up,” Andy assuages, “why don’t you take him to your room for now? We wouldn’t want him to ruin any of your gifts.”

“He won’t,” you argue, not quick enough to stop yourself. “He’s trained.

“I know, honey, but just for a little. He can come back out later.”

“Yeah, or I can drive him out to the highway,” Lloyd snorts.

You furrow your brow at him. He snickers as your anger amuses him. You quickly wipe it away. You can’t lose your cool yet. You slowly get up, stepping over Ernie and exposing a bit too much thigh. You call the dog’s name but he doesn’t move. He knows something’s wrong.

You bend and grab his collar, “come on, buddy, please.”

At first he doesn’t budge but relents as you coax him with quiet whispers. He lets you lead him out, dragging his large paws with your less than urgent pace. You get to the open bedroom and look inside.

“Sorry, Ern,” you say as you nudge him ahead, “it’ll be okay, I promise. Mama take care of you.”

He goes into the room and turns to stare back at you with his doe eyes. You want to melt into a puddle. He’s so cute and sweet. He doesn’t deserve all this. If it was just you, you’d fight, but you have to worry about him. 

You shut the door and go back to the living room. The men seem anxious as you enter. Ransom pinches the locket around his neck between his fingers, Andy smooths the front of his sweater with his large hand, and Lloyd digs his heel into the floor as he picks his fingernail.

“Alright,” Andy exhales as he faces you, “so, honey, you start.”

You blink at him and cross your arms. You don’t know what he means. You glance around, between each of them.

“Open a gift,” Andy steps back and gestures to the tree, “they’re all for you.”

Your stomach churns and your heart flips. Something about this is off. Not just that you’ve been abducted or this weird house with locks on the doors and deafening walls. More than these men and their incessant leers. There’s more than a dozen presents, for you alone, but why?

“Me?” You pull your arms apart and force them down to your sides, clutching the weave of the sweater dress.

“Go on,” Lloyd encourages with a wink.

You restrain yourself as best you can. Fear courses through you as you try to unravel their riddle. What are they up to? They’re watching you like wolves, prowling, ready to pounce, so why don’t they?

You tiptoe forward and as you near Andy, he stays exactly where he is. You brush against him and feel his breath fan over you. You pass Ransom as he once more sits on the foot of the sectional. 

You stop before the tree and consider the array of gifts; boxes, bags, and wrapped bundles. It’s the sort of haul any child dreams of. You remember the Christmas Eves you lay awake sleepless hoping for just this. Waking to only a new pair of socks and a couple toiletries from the group home. You didn’t often get what you wanted, but you could get by with what you needed.

You bend your knees, the hem of the sweater rising up your thighs as you reach for a small box. You stand and turn to the men, staring down at the red box with a gold bow on top. You gulp and peek up at them. They all just watch. 

You wiggle the lid until it pops off. You reveal a pair of dangling pearl earrings. They’re pretty. Probably real but you don’t have the eye to tell. You peer up again, confused. It’s actually a very nice gift.

“Who’s it from?” Andy asks.

You flinch and check the tag. You should’ve done that first. You pull it straight as it hides under the tail of the bow, “Ransom,” you read.

“Ha!” He claps his hands, together then on his knees, “fuck yeah.”

“Huh?” You utter dumbly.

“Shit,” Lloyd mutters and Andy lets his disappointment flow out heavily.

“What…” you can’t finish the question.

“Pretty nice gift, huh?” Ransom taunts, “so, uh, what’s my gift, sweetheart?”

You grimace and examine the wall behind him, “I don’t… have anything…”

“Actually,” he interjects, “I think you do. Why don’t you pop those on, then pop your tits out?”

You gape at him. He bites his lip as you stand dumbfounded and humiliated. Lloyd chuckles and Andy growls as he paces, sitting in the armchair.

“I don’t…”

“It’s an exchange, not free for all, you got yours. I get mine,” he tilts his head, “so put those on and let me fuck your tits.”

You close your mouth. You’re not surprised but you’re not ready either. You didn’t expect them to hold out forever but you need more time. The problem is they’re not playing by your schedule, you have to adjust to yours. That means, you’ll be working from behind.

“I’m waiting,” Ransom huffs, “you know, you’re being pretty ungrateful there, sweetheart.”

Andy plants his elbow on the armrest as you look at him, “do it.”

“But…” you pout, “you said…”

“He gave you a gift,” Andy said. “He won’t hurt you. I’m here.”

You nearly drop the box. What does he mean he won’t hurt you? You don’t want to do that.

Well…

You don’t have a choice. As rotten as it is, it will only be worse if you refuse. You lower your chin and nod. You turn to set the box down on the small table just beside the couch, too close to Ransom. He snickers as you hear his zipper whisper down. Oh god.

You pull out your plain gold hoops and replace them with the teardrop pearls. You feel them dangle between your fingertips and raise your head. Worse than what you’re about to do is the audience. This isn’t just you being violated, this is that violation being witnessed.

You walk along the sectional and Ransom catches your wrist, pulling you forward impatiently. He turns you to face him. Your eyes widen as you try not to look lower than you need to. His cock bobs at the edge of your vision.

“Take this off,” he touches the hem of the dress.

You spread your sweaty palms over the wool. Slowly, you tug it upwards. Your skin speckles with goosebumps as you reveal your nakedness to the room. You stand only in the knee highs and panties.

“Damn,” Lloyd clucks, “an ass on this one.”

Andy doesn’t comment, he only hums as the chair creaks under his weight.

“Get down,” he orders.

You hold your breath and obey. You get to your knees as Ransom plays with himself. You can’t look him in the face and you definitely don’t want to look down. You stare instead at his sweater.

“Push your tits together,” he demands.

Again, you listen. It’s like you’re in a trance. The room is fuzzy and your body is hollow. He laughs again and taps his tip against your tits.

“Fuck, those are some nice tits,” he remarks, grabbing your shoulder to urge your closer.

He slips his dick between your cleavage. His throbbing head pokes up above the swell of flesh. He dips down and back up, rocking you by your shoulder as he guides you. You move with him, fighting back the tide of repulsion.

“That’s it,” he coaxes, “come on and give it a kiss, sweetheart.”

You flinch. He squeezes your shoulder. A warning. You bend your head and kiss his tip as it once more pokes above your cleavage. He groans and his hand moves to cover one of yours, making you grope yourself tighter.

“Fuck,” he rasp, “you know what…” he turns to Andy, reminding you of the others, of them watching you, “I think I get it now.” He winks at you as you fuck his length with your tits, “good fucking choice, Barber.”

[yayll]

Hiii i hope you're feeling better soon :(( I was wondering if I could request a Dazai x reader fic where the reader has PTSD? Specifically, the beginning of autumn kind of triggers her (sorry if it's a confusing i dunno how to word it lol) Could it be fluff/comfort? Btw I love your writing style so badly so pls tweak the idea if you think it would work better! And no worries if you'd rather pass :33

hii angel i genuinely am sorry that this took me a while! (work and life happened a little more than usual, GOT SICK and barely had time to sit down and write.) it was so ivover but i am fine now thank u so much bub!

i REALLY hope you like this and that it's what u wanted, i've never written someone w PTSD before and i was just rlly hoping i didn't mess this characterization up for ur request ahhh. i had such a nice time writing it and i rlly wanted to explore the impact it could have around reader and dazai and him going out of his way even if it could be a little goofy and sappy to make u feel at least a little better even if u can't talk abt it.

i love uuuu thank u again! <3

~ a little something about Dazai noticing harmful patterns and loving you through them ~

He's been watching you sit by the window for the past half hour as you stare at what seems like the beginning of the new season outside. You were quieter than usual, more withdrawn and jumpy, which could only mean that you weren't sharing something with him- or rather having trouble processing something to the point where you didn't realize he could tell something inside you was on high alert.

Dazai would rather die than see you in such a state, especially during what's supposed to be such an exciting time of the year that's full of the things you usually love to do. Whatever is impeding you from enjoying the leaves falling has to be dealt with the most delicate of methods, but especially with love. If you taught him anything about the past haunting you to the point of mental distress, something he suffered bouts of every now and then when memories made days grow dark, it's that all you need is one person to truly witness you. Just like how you've seen the ugliest parts of him time and time again yet you still look at him with all the stars in the sky, stars he consumes like a black hole waiting to be filled.

Luckily for you, he has an arsenal of things he can try to soothe you with, because he wouldn't be a good detective AND boyfriend if he didn't keep all those context clues in his pocket for a bad day. Mainly though, he was just completely attuned to your every need. You are his happiness, and your wellness isn't up for debate: It's mandatory. He stands up from the loveseat with a deep exhale as he walks over to you, his lips curled in a lazy smile as he tests the waters to see what you could need from him without asking.

"You know, if you stay any more still I could probably paint you like one of those fancy paintings. What do you say, be my model?"

You look over at him from the window, and he can visibly tell you haven't been at ease lately. He suddenly realizes he's just fallen even more in love with you. That there is nothing in this world that could ever let him see you as anything but his heart.

You murmur, a faint smile decorating your serene face.

"Mm, I'm not sure. I don't think I could pose for that long, you know? It would probably be hard to catch my likeness, heh."

He clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes with a playful smirk. Oh how he wants to lean in and worship your likeness with his loving touch, but he decides to take it easy on the physical affection for now, not until he knows you're feeling up for it. He can be a good boy, something he usually isn't.

"Well, I wouldn't mind being the brave young knight who tries~ Shall we take this outside for better lighting?"

You instantly don't give him a good reaction to that. You shrug, seeming conflicted and unsure of yourself, but unable to really bring yourself to explain with words, something uncharacteristic of you.

No problem! Dazai thinks to himself. If you don't want to go outside, he can bring outside to you in the comfort of home. He'll enhance your safe space, and tailor it to just what you need. He hums, tapping his temple in an exaggerated manner as if he were thinking really hard and when he sees that it gets a small giggle out of you, he knows he's on the right track.

"Hm, I know what we should do instead. Wait here, angel.~"

He disappears into the hallway and you sit there as the sound of cabinets opening and rummaging around fills the air. You smile to yourself, and shake your head at the mental image of Dazai becoming a tornado to find whatever he's looking for right now, hoping he doesn't make too much of a mess. You fidget with your hair, twirling it in between your fingers as you take a deep grounding breath while you wait.

A moment later, he comes back with what seems like art supplies and a ton of mini candlesticks.

He knows you're intrigued when you tilt your head in confusion, but then again that's probably just the confusion... Dazai sets down two canvases along with the candles, flashing you a mischievous grin. If you couldn't process your feelings through words, art was always there! You look over the activities he's laid out for you both, awaiting his silver tongued explanation.

"You know when I want to be the little spoon but I don't say anything?"

You laugh softly, and nod.

"Mhm, you get all moody and weird."

He nods back, a half smile on his face as he rests his hands on his hips. He wants to tell you that the only reason he even knew such intimate luxuries is because you showed him that he's worthy of it, of being loved, but he doesn't say anything. He lets the sweet memories between you swim through his mind as fuel for the day he's trying to create for you. His voice sounds more like he's talking out loud now, lost in a thought..

"You make me moody and weird. You also make me want to grab your soft little face and just..."

He then snaps back to the moment, and his tone picks up.

"... But alas, there is no time to waste! Come, sit, I'll get the other things ready.~"

He zooms off to the kitchen, and your heart softens at how much he fusses over you, though you also hope you aren't being too much. You know he'd hate to hear that, so you simply sit down and look over the supplies you had honestly forgotten you had.

Dazai makes tea, because he knows it helps with your fidgeting and you like how the mug feels in your hands, he also begins to set the candle sticks all over the living room, lighting them one by one. You flash him a look of faint concern.

"Feels like Dracula's castle. You sure this is safe, Osamu?"

He simply grins impishly.

"It's called 'mood lighting', cutie. There is an atmosphere to be created!"

"Yeah, and possibly a wildfire."

"Boo, you're no fun. Besides, that sounds like a problem for future us. We live in the moment."

Dazai would never risk your safety and you know that, which is why you don't push the topic any further.

You two settle in, the candles illuminating you both with a warm flame that feels more comforting than you'd like to admit, you feel yourself becoming more immersed in the random little doodles and brush strokes you create as you both talk for hours about literally nothing while sipping on your tea. Nothing feels nice, for once and Dazai can see it in the way you slowly become less and less tense. So mindful, so beautiful.

After you fill your canvas, you set it down, and peer over at Dazai's.

"What'd you paint?"

He smiles sheepishly, and hides his.

"Not finished yet. No peeking!"

He stands up and in one swift motion, runs outside, while leaving you bewildered at the spontaneity of the situation. A few moments later, he runs back inside, huffing with his arms behind his back. He sits back down on the floor with you, criss crossed. He grabs his canvas, and puts something on it as he slowly unveils his work to you.

It's a single crisp leaf he must have plucked from the grass when it fell, the orange and reddish hue placed on the canvas that shows a cartoonishly painted tree as well. He murmurs, eyes trained lovingly on you but with that familiar playful tone.

"I wanted you to get a little air. It's good for one's mood, you know."

You slowly take the leaf, and twiddle it in your thumb as you begin to smile to yourself. You mutter back.

"The weather changes, moods change, it's so overwhelming sometimes..."

He slowly leans in a little closer and places a hand on the small of your back, inching you closer to him too. He wants to distract you from those thoughts affecting you, but it's getting harder when all he can think about is how much you affect him. He whispers.

"My mood never changes, you're the most precious thing I have ever seen all year round."

You look up at him, your eyes communicating what you feel, and he picks up on it with a silent confirmation. You hold each other's gaze for a long quiet moment and when you feel ready you lean into his chest, nuzzling into him. He envelops you in a hug that feels like the remedy you've been searching for this whole time, and it almost brings you to tears. You don't know it also does the same to him. He gives you a soft squeeze and leans down to your ear, his warm breath feeling like the way life is supposed to feel. You mumble, your voice slightly muffled against him.

"Thank you, Osamu. Love you."

He smiles at that. To be something so soothing to you, to be of use for once in his life, it's a feeling that he could never describe. He'll have to find the words when he covers you in kisses from head to toe later, when he makes sure you feel the full extent of his devotion to you through thick and thin. He exhales deeply.

"Change of season, change of mind... It doesn't matter to me. It's still you. It will always be you."

[kiivg]

Your Rook is ridiculously good looking. Like, I’m actually blushing and it’s all your fault

.The initial idea for him was Grave Robbing Pirate and honestly the beard options came through for me like nothing else. Guaranteed I was going to go for muttonchops/sideburns before I even knew what the CC looked like, but idk they looked a little patchy sometimes and that is NOT what Grier is about 👏 The whatever it is he has now is iconic for him, I tried making him as an elf but it was Cursed and Never-to-Be-Seen-Again. Also the balding ponytail? I saw it, and I was like yeah that’s it, that’s him, that’s exactly what I’m about.

.Also it is absolutely insane to me that he’s the first draft, I got him in one go with a little fine tuning once I figured out how the CC works. Especially considering how ugly Goddard turned out as the Inquisitor 😭😭 but now I HC he just sends somebody over in his place to act as a go between, ain’t no way he’s traipsing around with Morrigan lmao. I did make a crummy Blackwall Inq so I could get Dorian to call him Amatus 👹 Pavwall Canon UNLOCKED. (I wonder if you could make the Iron Bull tho?? Sans wide horns ofc.)

.Also, girlie, tysm!!!!!! I am ALSO very 👀😳🥴🤫🫡 about him, I’ve just started my third playthrough of him, I’m still tweaking little bits here and there as I go along. Which means ofc I’m going to be screenshotting him in every cutscene 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️.

.Some facts about my Rook, Grier Thorne, and his story below 💕🫡.

.His mother is Therasia Thorne, a Rivaini Dalish elf who left her clan for the calling of the sea, and he is an absolute mama’s boy. Will do absolutely anything she asks with very little, if any, questioning. He doesn’t know (and most likely never will) who his father is, as the man bought Therasia’s silence over their affair with two galleons and a frigate. On a side note, Therasia was known for seducing very rich men and getting pregnant in order to blackmail them. Most of the time the fathers would pay up, and there has only been one instance of the father agreeing to take the baby off her hands, her bluff was called and she regretfully left her son behind.

.He adores expensive textures, silk, dragon scales, gold, fine lace, alamarri sheep wool, phoenix feathers. If he wasn’t a career criminal turned conscript he would have been a tailor. He owns (or used to own) several dresses/robes that he would just lounge about in naked to feel the fabric against his skin. Doesn’t really think too much of leather though, it can be stiff and often chafes the skin, which is strange because he’s very much a rope man.

.He waxes most of his body hair off, and keeps everything nice and tidy. He also puts coloured powder in his open wounds to preserve the shape of them as they heal, true to his mother’s traditions.

.Has kept his face completely bare of tattoos (apart from the fish he got when he was fourteen) in an honour to his Dalish heritage; he knows he won’t ever get valaslin because he’s only a half-elf, but the prospect of it keeps his face bare.

.Is fascinated by machinery and spent a great deal of time perfecting his own tools. His own frigate was equipped with self made trident ballistas, each one would fire three harpoons (individually or all at once) secured with thick chains, crafted to hunt and bring down large game, dragons, and smaller fleeing ships.

.In tune with his love for crafting, he follows June, and not the Maker. Though he does keep this to himself and those he considers family. If asked he just says he doesn’t believe in the Maker, and refuses to elaborate.

.Absolutely fucks, big family kind of guy. He is one of nineteen children, and has nine of his own by five different women, though he assumes there’s more because he was very much a leave before the sunrise kind of guy. Now he’s matured with being in the Wardens and has been less of a dick about it all. Whether or not he’s got any chance of knowing those kids who knows 🤷‍♂️.

.Never told anyone about his past when he became a Warden, the only people who know are those who were privy to his conscription, and the higher up Wardens upon receiving his arrest and conscription reports. Most people know he’s a conscript however, he doesn’t shy away from that, and he’s had a dozen or more rumours spread about him within the order. Evka was the first person to say he was a good Warden and back him up, and I think that solidified him as a third wheel to her and Antoine.

.He was actually conscripted by order of my HoF Andrastopher Cousland, as a favour returned. Andrastopher wanted aboard his ship when the Inquisition was seeking out a new leader,(there was no way he was becoming a religious figurehead lmao) and he stayed there for a good six months or so before Zevran joined them, and another two months before returning back to Thedas. They… uh… yeah 🥴🤫.

.If he was a companion his questline would probably follow trying to kill his older brother Galo after receiving a plea for help from his sister in law Aadiyah. Turns out Galo is either a) helping the Antaam navigate the seas uncontested or b) capturing and selling slaves to the Venatori. The big question at the end would be whether to tell their daughter that he’s her dad or to let her believe Galo was her father considering he HAS just murdered him, and she has several siblings that Galo fathered too.

.His gift would be an ornamental smoking pipe or a hookah, his room would be an observatory, full of navigational maps and constellations, there would be a small tailors work bench on one side of the room complete with mannequin and a sewn outfit that would slowly complete over his personal questline. His bed would be a row boat full of pillows.

.His almost kiss scene would be him explaining that he’s no good, his past actions are very much coming to bite him in the ass, and that you should really stop flirting with him. Does he want you to stop? No. Is he going to lean in to try and kiss you? Yes. Is he going to remember that everything is playing out as it does before and pull away because he knows he’s not good enough for you? Yes.

.His romance lock in scene would be stargazing on the beach in Rivain, he’d point out a couple constellations, talk about his time seafaring (minus all the murdering and pillaging). You’d get the option to ask about a few different ones (leading to locking out of the romance) or a secret fourth one and he’d absolutely bullshit some made up romantic story that parallels him and you, and you’d call bullshit because YES it is bullshit, and he’d say something awfully sappy about making it “our constellation” and then 💋💋💋.

.The actual romance scene would be that he turns up completely naked in your room, he’ll ask if you want the Captain or the Warden, and you uh choose and uh ye a hh haha ahaaaaa 😳🥴.

[intheticklecloset]

If It Ain't Broke (Fire Force)

Summary: Viktor isn't getting enough sleep while he works on a project with Vulcan. The engineer isn't having it.

A/N: I really love the dynamic of Viktor and Vulcan as the science/techy guys in Company Eight, and I'd wanted to write a fic featuring them for a while. Finally got around to it this year! Enjoy!

Word Count: 3226

Warning: Slight hurt/comfort, some angst

~~~

“Morning, Vik,” Vulcan greeted as he entered the laboratory they’d been sharing as of late.

Viktor swung around in his swivel chair with a smile. “Good morning, Vulcan. You’re actually on time.”

“I’m not that much of a night owl,” the engineer retorted playfully, stifling a yawn. “So, about those ideas you had last evening—”

“Oh, I’ve already gotten a bit of a head start on implementing them,” Viktor replied, heading to the work table across the room, where their combined invention lay. The scientist picked it up – it was about the size and shape of a watch, but with a bit more heft to it – and flipped it over to point at the new additions he’d made to the underside. “See here, this is the sparker we discussed. All they’d have to do is tap the top of their wrist and the spark will shoot out—”

“Uh…Viktor?”

“—so it can start a fire that they can then control. I’ll have to do some more fine tuning, of course, not to mention having Maki and Lieutenant Hinawa test it out—”

“Yo, Viktor.” Vulcan put a hand on his arm to stop his rambling and turned the scientist around to face him, large brown owl eyes staring up at him. “Did you…get any sleep last night? This part of the project was supposed to take hours. That’s why we saved it for today.”

Viktor blinked, then let a sheepish smile onto his features. “Oh. Uh…I slept. I definitely slept…for a little bit.”

“How long is a ‘little bit’?”

The other man glanced away – an obvious tell. Vulcan groaned.

“Not again, Viktor.”

“I’m a scientist!” Viktor replied, shuffling over to his desk to pick up his long-overused and chipped mug. “I live off of caffeine, what can I say? It’s all good – I’m confident in the work I did overnight, but you can always double-check me—”

“Vik, you’ve got to stop doing this to yourself.” Vulcan moved over to him and waited until their eyes met to continue. “This is why you had me join on this project – because it needs an engineer’s handiwork, and because you never sleep when you’re working alone. It’s not healthy.”

“I’m fine—”

“Let me finish.” Vulcan tweaked his ribs just enough to shut him up, barely aware of the giggle-snort that slipped out of his friend at the contact before he plowed on, “If you’re really going to be this bad about sticking to our agreement, then we’re going to have to take shifts instead, and I think we’d both much rather work with each other than leave each other alone with this thing until it’s done. Right?”

It was at this point that the engineer registered his companion’s wide-eyed stare and the faint pink on his cheeks, the way he still had his arm jammed down protectively over his ribs where he’d just been touched.

Vulcan hesitated. “Uh…sorry, Vik. I didn’t mean—”

“Fine! It’s fine, I’m not – it’s fine.” Viktor’s words were rushed, and the way he sidestepped his friend to inch toward the door only made the pink-haired man worry. “You’re right, of course. I probably should get some shuteye before I work on this thing any more – you can take it from here, I’m sure you’ve got it well in hand.”

“Viktor, are you okay? I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

The scientist was hovering at the door now, looking both like he wanted to stay put and like he didn’t want to be anywhere near the engineer. “You didn’t. I’m good, I’ll just…yeah.”

Then he was gone.

Vulcan blinked after him, his mind replaying the rib-tweak for anything weird. Sure, Viktor had reacted, but the engineer hadn’t thought it would hurt him…

That giggle. That snort that Viktor had let out at the tiniest contact.

Vulcan was suddenly grinning. So that’s how it was, huh?

~

For a few days after that, Viktor seemed jumpy around Vulcan, but the engineer pretended not to notice and to continue on their work together without making a move to touch him again, and gradually the scientist began to relax. By the next week, it was like it had never happened.

He had also gotten better about sleeping like he was supposed to so they could continue the project together…for about six days. Then he began to lapse, and when Vulcan walked into the lab one Monday morning to find Viktor already there with his mug steaming on his desk, two empty creamer packets strewn nearby, he knew he’d have to get after him again.

But this time, he approached it differently.

“Morning,” he said as he strode inside.

“Good morning,” Viktor replied, fingers flying across the keyboard, not glancing at him at all.

Vulcan did his best to sound casual as he asked, “Been up long?”

“A bit,” the scientist replied. The engineer’s eyes flicked to the creamer packets and bit back a snort. This was easily his second mug, if not third or fourth.

“So…all night,” he said.

Finally Viktor stopped typing and glanced at the evidence as well, realizing he had given himself away by not discarding them before Vulcan’s arrival.

“Viktor…”

“I know, I know.” The scientist sighed heavily, flopping back against his chair dejectedly. “I’m doing it again.”

A part of Vulcan knew his friend wasn’t entirely doing this on purpose, so he gentled his tone as he asked, “What can I do to help you with this? Is there something we can adjust in our approach to this project so you’re not so wired all the time?”

“I don’t know,” Viktor groaned, running both hands through his hair in agitation. “My brain just…never shuts off. I’m always thinking about everything, and when I get an idea I just have to start working on it; it’s like I’ll lose it if I don’t.”

Vulcan was quiet for a long moment. He knew what he’d intended to do from the moment he saw the other man sitting here with that mug, but at this point he wasn’t sure it would help in the way he wanted it to. Still, a plan was a plan.

“Listen, Vik.” He thanked his lucky stars that the scientist’s chair had no arms as he reached his own around to trap him against the back of it in a bear hug, fingers wiggling into his ribs without warning. “We gotta do something about this.”

As predicted, Viktor spasmed and let out a surprised shriek, a few snorting cackles escaping his lips before he thought to try and cover up, one hand over his mouth to muffle his giggles and the other clawing desperately at Vulcan’s arms around his chest. “No, nohohohoho, wahahahait—!”

“Last time all I did was poke you and you fell in line. Not that that’s what I was going for, but hey, if it ain’t broke, right?”

“Plehehehehease, don’t – AIIIEEE!!” Viktor tried to arch his back, and failing that brought his leg up to kick the air, catching his foot on the underside of his desk, making the whole thing shake. It was a miracle the coffee didn’t spill. “Owww! Dohohohohon’t tihihihihihickle me! Not thehehehehehere, please! Vulcahahahahan, stohohohohohop!”

The engineer smirked as he pressed tiny circles into Viktor’s middle ribs, a simple move that seemed to drive the other man up the wall, snorting laughter and squeaks and wheezes spilling out of him like a fountain of mirth.

“Heh, pretty ticklish, huh?” Vulcan teased gently, feeling victorious when the brunette finally brought his other hand down to try and push him away with all his sapped strength, laughter building into a crescendo the more he focused on that tiny spot on either side of his ribcage.

“Plehehehehehehease! Stohohohohohoooooop!” Viktor snorted again, the tips of his ears turning pink with embarrassment as he struggled and laughed. “Vuhuhuhuhuhuhulcan! Plehehehehease, you win! You wihihihihihihihin!”

At last the engineer let up, rubbing the scientist’s shoulders as he hunched over and giggled out some leftovers, gasping for breath. “There, doesn’t that feel better?”

Viktor groaned, taking a few moments before glancing up at his companion with a halfhearted glare. “You’re a menace.”

“Seriously, though…this late-night stuff has got to stop. You’ll make yourself sick, and then where would Company Eight be?”

“Tickling me isn’t going to solve the problem,” the scientist grumbled, getting to his feet and grabbing his mug.

“I know that, but it’s fun. I couldn’t help it.” Vulcan grinned, but his smile wavered when the scientist was quiet, moving to the sink to dump his freshly-poured coffee down the drain. He rinsed the drinkware, put in in the strainer, and started to move to the door. At that point, the engineer intercepted him. “Whoa, whoa, wait a minute. What’s up, Vik? This is the second time you’ve gone all quiet after I’ve…”

Viktor didn’t say anything for a moment, just keeping his gaze averted.

Vulcan felt awful. “Shit, I’m sorry…I just now realized I should have made sure it was okay…”

“It’s fine,” the scientist said quietly.

“It’s obviously not—”

“It is.” Viktor finally lifted his eyes to meet Vulcan’s. He sighed. “I’m just…so tired. I didn’t realize. Plus my laugh is stupid, so I’m embarrassed about that, too.”

Vulcan felt the words like a punch to the gut. “Hold on – stupid? Your laugh isn’t stupid! Where the hell did you get that from?”

“I know how it sounds.”

“But it’s just your natural reaction, isn’t it? You can’t beat yourself up over that.”

Viktor’s eyes widened a fraction. For a moment they just stood there, silently staring at each other. Then the scientist glanced away and gave a tiny smile. “You’re not the first person to say that to me. So I guess it could be true.”

Vulcan offered a smile of his own. “I thought it was fun. The way you were kicking and screaming was fun, too—”

“I was hardly screaming,” Viktor retorted, but he seemed more at ease as he brushed past his friend. “Let’s get back to this later, maybe? I want to lie down.”

Still mildly concerned but mostly relieved, Vulcan nodded. “Good call. I’ll tell the captain we’re taking the day off.”

~

Viktor was much better about getting to sleep consistently every night after that. He was never in the lab for more than an hour earlier that Vulcan in the mornings, which was a marked improvement over the 3 AM start times he’d been averaging before that. Part of the engineer suspected his friend was mostly doing it to avoid another tickle attack, and he felt mixed emotions on that front, but whatever was keeping him motivated was working, so he didn’t want to rock the boat too much.

Still, he was hesitant to do it again.

~

Nearly a month later and after their invention was in its final stages, Vulcan decided Viktor was good to handle most of the rest on his own, so he went back to a different task he’d been working on before then – fixing up the Matchbox. The poor thing had been through a lot lately with the uprising of the White Clad and the climbing number of Infernals they had to put to rest; it was beyond time for a tune-up.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been under the car when he heard the door to the garage open, but he called out, “Yo, whoever just walked in – grab my wrench for me, would you? It’s just out of my reach on my left.”

There was no verbal reply, but footsteps treaded around to where he lay with just his legs poking out from under the Matchbox. A moment later a clattering sound was heard, and Vulcan glanced down to see the wrench was now within his reach. Whoever had walked in wore brown shoes. So, it didn’t narrow things down much. The only thing he knew for sure at this point was it wasn’t Shinra – the kid almost never wore shoes, for obvious reasons.

“You just gonna stand there like a phantom or do I get to know who’s joined me?”

After a moment, Viktor said, “It’s done.”

“The Sparker? Really?” They’d decided to call it a Sparker because it was designed to spark and create a small flame on command that second-gens could wear in combat to be even more powerful and not have to rely on others to start fires for them to control. “That was quick.”

“Well…I am used to working alone.”

“Guess you’re finally glad to be rid of me then, huh?” Vulcan teased good-naturedly.

There was silence again for a minute. Then the scientist cleared his throat and asked, “Have you been in here since you left the lab?”

“Yeah.”

“You know that was ten hours ago?”

Vulcan had not known that. “Oh, shit, seriously?” At that moment, his stomach growled. He hadn’t even realized he was so hungry. “Damn. I’d better wrap up, then.”

Viktor’s voice was more lighthearted now, which put the engineer at ease. “How do you work up the nerve to get after me for pulling long hours when you’re in here doing the exact same thing?”

“I guess you got me there. To be fair, Lisa usually drags me out of here at dinnertime, but she’s, uh…”

“Yeah.” Their resident former White Clad still had bad days sometimes. “How long until you finish?”

“Should only take a few more minutes. I’m basically done, anyway. I’ll have to do final touches on it tomorrow morning is all.”

“I can wait. I haven’t eaten either, so we can raid the kitchen together. Lieutenant Hinawa would be scary to face alone.”

Vulcan chuckled, then fell silent as he got back to work.

Exactly five minutes later, he suddenly felt a strong tingling sensation in his hips that forced a laugh out of him, followed by a swift kick that only caught air. He dropped his tool and tried to slide out from under the Matchbox with the pallet, but Viktor – because obviously it was Viktor – had knelt in front of it so it couldn’t move anywhere but further under the car.

“Hey!” he yelped, unable to even bring his arms down to protect himself like this without hurting either himself or his work. “Lihihihihihicht, you sneheheheheaky son of a gun!”

“It seemed only fair,” his friend replied with a light tilt to his voice that was rare to hear from him. “You did this to me when I had been sitting in the lab for seven hours before you got there.”

“Seheheheheheheven?!”

“…oops.”

“Ehehehehehahahahahahaha! Shit, stohohohohohohop!” Vulcan cried, the light tracing along his hips switching to digging that had him physically fighting himself to keep from twisting something to escape. “Lihihihihihihihict!”

“Interesting that you call me by my surname in this situation. Is it because you’re frustrated?”

Vulcan kicked empty air again. “It’s behehehehecause I’m tihihihihihihicklish, you ahahahahahass! And I’m stuhuhuhuhuhuhuck down hehehehehehere! Lemme gohohohohoho!”

“Such language. I wonder why tickling brings that out of you?”

“It’s my nahahahahahatural reahahahahaction! Just lihihihihike your snohohohohorts and stuhuhuhuhuhuff!”

Viktor faltered in his attack, and it was just enough that Vulcan plowed his way out from under the Matchbox, barely catching sight of the scientist’s lab coat as he hauled ass around the front of the car toward the garage door. “Licht!” he yelled, pleasantly surprised to hear his friend let out a panicked shriek followed by a slew of unstoppable, giddy giggles.

Oh? Oh. Oh, it was on.

By the time Vulcan caught up to Viktor – back in the lab, obviously, the place he felt safest – the scientist had set a perfect trap for him that he fell into easily. He tripped on his way over the threshold and sprawled face-first on the ground, still greasy and sweaty and shirtless from his time under the Matchbox.

Then Viktor was on his back, scribbling and tickling up and down his ribs and sides and shoulders, making Vulcan squeal and giggle into the floor.

“Ehehehehehehehe! You ahahahahahahasshole! Stohohohohohohohop it, it tihihihihihihickles!”

“I believe that’s the point,” Viktor replied, sounding breathless and high on adrenaline, and when Vulcan twisted his head to look at him he saw an eager smile on his face to match.

“Juhuhuhuhuhust wait till I gehehehehehet out of this—!” Vulcan brought his arms under him as though he were about to do a push-up, but at that moment his friend darted his fingers into his open armpits, making him fall back down again and screech with laughter. “Shihihihihihihihihit!”

“Interesting,” Viktor mused. “Is this your worst spot? I got the sense it was here…” He trailed his fingers down to squeeze the pink-haired man’s hips.

That was a mistake.

Vulcan shrieked out a laugh and bucked on pure instinct. Poor Viktor, who had no sense of balance on a good day, was easily thrown off like a cowboy from a bucking bronco. The engineer shot up to his hands and knees and whirled, grinning wickedly. Viktor was already giggling, eyes wide and hands raised in hopeless defense.

“W-Wait, wait—!” he tried, but Vulcan had strength and speed to spare, and he was on his friend in seconds, snatching up his wrists and shoving them above his head, wiggling teasing fingers with his free hand just above his ribs. Viktor shrieked and squirmed, but he wasn’t going anywhere now. “Ehehehehe, wahahahahait!”

“Wait for what? You started it, Licht,” Vulcan teased.

Viktor let out a scream as the engineer’s fingers plunged into his ribs, quickly and easily finding that spot that had worked so well last time. The poor man cackled and snorted and rolled back and forth on the ground uselessly, his face lit up with laughter that seemed much more genuine this time than it had the first time around.

“How’s it feel, Vik? Having fun yet?”

Viktor arched his back and wheezed when Vulcan dug mercilessly into that special spot, barely managing to gasp out, “Dohohohohohoes this mehehehehehean you’ll stohohohohohohop being weheheheheird around mehehehehehe now?”

Vulcan paused, frowning in confusion. “Being weird? I got the feeling I’d made you uncomfortable, so I was just trying to be careful…”

“Y-You stopped being yourself…after I told you I thought my laugh was stupid.” Viktor’s ticklish smile faded a bit as he recalled their last couple of weeks together. “I thought you didn’t want to hear it anymore.”

The engineer stared at him. “Are you serious? You must have missed the part where I told you I’d thought it was fun.”

“But then…why didn’t you…?” Viktor suddenly clamped his mouth shut, as if he’d said too much. His cheeks turned that same shade of pink as before.

Vulcan’s grin was back in an instant. “Vik…were you hoping I’d tickle you again?”

Viktor squeaked, tugging at his trapped arms even as a wobbly smile appeared on his face. “N-No…of course not! Why would I?”

“You liar,” Vulcan laughed, immediately launching back into his earlier assault, beyond pleased to hear Viktor’s initial screech cut short by a snort and even more helpless giggling as he writhed on the ground beneath him. “If you’d wanted me to tickle you again, all you had to do was ask, silly!”

After that, Viktor laughed more freely than Vulcan had ever heard before.

And he swore he’d hear it again and again and again.

[spinda-draws]

Think you can possibly break down why cyberflash episodes look so worse compared to Nelvana cyberchase episodes? I've been paying attention to the episodes and I think it's the poor rigs, tweaning, and adding too detail to things originally simplied in Nelvana eps (Digit's copter for example). But that's me. What about you?

It's not necessarily bad rigs? Well let me say it this way. The kids in my opinion look absolutely fine 90% of the time. Their designs are way simpler so they're not as impacted by the cost saving measures as... well, anyone else (coughHackercough). I would not be surprised if they basically had the same naked rig copy and pasted with the hair and clothes put on after. That would definitely save time from having three unique rigs.

I will use Hacker as the counter example because I've spent more time looking at him, but the way they translated his model was simply not good. But more than that, I think his design is just much harder to make a good rig out of. He is such a flat design by nature you can't just copy and paste the same quickly made rig for every situation and have it look okay. Nelvana's animators were making tweaks to his design in pretty much every scene just to get it to look good for that pose/ from that angle. You can absolutely make a great rig for Hacker, but its going to take a lot of effort.

If you want to see an example of how a ToonBoom rig can be pretty damn detailed might I promote a buddy of mine? She is doing her own show using ToonBoom right now. There is a lot of flexibility of animators are given enough time and resources to go all out.

What I mean to say is that the rigs are, for the most part doing their job, but their job has been extremely limited due to the new goal of the show's production to make the episodes quickly and cheaply because there's not much money in the bank. There is probably an art direction order for the storyboarders to do bare minimum and that would extent to the animations as they work within the confines of the storyboards.

But alright enough semantics, everyone knows this show has no money for fancy complex rigs, but what does that mean in execution? I think the opening is the best way to compare because it follows the template of the original show.

The scene where the kids intercept Hacker's green bubble attack and the screen cracks. In the original, he is drawn to take up the full screen and there's a marvelous sense of anticipation in how he moves.

This is the first frame of animation for the new and old versions.

In the next unique frame old Hacker bites down and continues to fold in on himself, increasing the sense of anticipation while new Hacker starts to expand out into the shocked pose immediately.

By the time the screen starts to crack, new Hacker has already reached the peak of his move and on his way down while old Hacker is only about halfway there.

The next few frames of new Hacker basically stay the same, the rig has nowhere else to go while old Hacker keeps going and reaches his peak.

In the next few frames old Hacker comes down slightly from the peak and brings his arms up (actually I think this was a bad move on Nelvana's part because the animation started with his moving them down and now he's back up within a second and a half, but that is probably a storyboarding issue) whereas new Hacker still has nowhere else to go. Now scroll back up to the first frame and notice how little new Hacker has changed overall.

Actually it is super weird because if you look at Delete beside him, Delete is actually showing decent anticipation. I really think there was some struggle with Hacker's design and honestly Buzz is probably having it even worse this scene.

But alright. For any kids fans out there. They don't do much expression and body language honestly, even in the old show they didn't "need" that much anticipation, but still had it subtly. Maybe you can remember a scene where the kids would scrunch their face up slightly and close their eyes and then open them again to transition into a new facial expression. Was kind of a running technique in the original show used on basically every character. To my memory, they don't use it anymore.

But okay, there's another example from the opening.

New Inez, drops right down while old Inez flies out head first.

And then she scrunches up all the way. Anticipation!

Then landing. Meanwhile new Inez has not changed. Honestly the old animation was low budget too, if it were me, I think another frame of her knee bending slightly as she lands before standing upright again would fit but maybe that was an intentional production choice I don't know. Old Cyberchase didn't really use any smears either.

And since you mentioned Digit, here is our boid.

A scene like this, in a production with more budget would just be hand drawn. It is ToonBoom, that is more than possible and a very okay technique to supplement some of the more unavoidable shortcomings of ridges.

Old Digit's wings are super off model, way too big for his body and way bigger than how they usually are, but that's alright because in this frame it looks very good. Animation is supposed to have that flexibility.

[ironmandeficiency]

sending memes

pairing: legolas / modern!reader

word count: 2153

summary: it was remarkably easy to fall in love with the elven prince. unfortunately, it was somewhat harder to actually convey said feelings. that’s when you decide to use memes

req: can i have legolas x reader with "sender quotes a poem that reminds them of receiver"? -@micheleamidalajedi

a/n: leave it to me to turn soft romance prompts into bullshit 😂i had to tweak it just a smidge but i think it's fine. mistor is gn sindarin for strayer/wanderer, aluon is gn sindarin for wholesome, & meril means artist or poet in woodelven sindarin

in the beginning, the elves had no idea what to do with you. you were far too brash and loud for court and had very little formal training in just about anything useful. your clothes were strange and there were dozens of words in your vernacular they didn’t understand, and several of your mannerisms threw the elves of the greenwood into tizzies.

your consensus was that they tolerated you simply because you knew things you shouldn’t, like the events of the first age and personal details about king thranduil that never saw the light of day.

some elves surprisingly enjoyed your presence very early on and jumped on the opportunity to learn about where you came from. of this number was legolas, a very adept learner who was easy on the eyes (and your heart, but that’s neither here nor there).

you’ve been in middle earth for a few years now, having jumped on the chance to stay and never return to a world slowly deteriorating. once you told the elves about various tragedies that had struck your earth in the past hundred years alone, even thranduil was terrified at the prospect of sending you back.

so now you were somewhat fluent in sindarin and best friends with a prince; oh, how the turntables.

“mistor!” your elvish name was cheerfully shouted across the training arena. “watch this!” aluon’s voice was immediately recognized and it brought a smile to your face. he had been one of your very first friends in middle earth and despite his youth (for an elf), was placed on your royal guard for if you ever ventured beyond the greenwood. he was what you would call a cinnamon roll.

“okay, i’m watching!”

aluon was currently practicing with his throwing knives, his bow resting against the side of a training dummy. for all the praise a bow and arrow got from elves, he preferred his knives just a bit more.

he threw one last look over his shoulder to make sure you were indeed watching him before throwing the blade in his hand with a resounding “YEET!”

the knife landed directly in the bullseye because of course it did.

you could barely congratulate him on his aim and joke execution for your cackling, arms holding your stomach as if your body were truly coming undone. his laughter joined yours soon after, the two of you leaning on each other while trying (and failing) to catch your breath.

-

legolas has known you long enough to know that where boisterous laughter is heard, you’re likely the culprit. this is why his footsteps guided him to the training arena in the royal wing, the one reserved for himself, his father, and their most trusted friends and guards.

to his non-surprise, you and aluon were wheezing on the ground at some unknown joke. he approached you both with a smile of his own, sturdy hands helping you to your feet. “mellon nin, what lightens you so?”

“aluon was throwing knives and went ‘YEET!’ and he hit the center of the target!” the cackling returned with renewed strength as you mimicked the motion and raucous screech of the four letter word.

ah, the practice of yeeting. you explained the word to him very early into your presence here and he found himself using the term on the odd occasion, much to your delight.

but legolas, as polite and regal as he was, felt the embers of friendly competition light in his chest. it wasn’t about the aim of aluon’s throws, as logical but slightly unfounded as that claim would have been.

it was truly about your laughter. he wanted to be the reason you lit up with such mirth, he wanted to be responsible for the joy in your eyes.

with all the princely decorum he could muster, he armed himself with his bow, notched an arrow, and let it fly directly into the wooden handle of aluon’s blade.

then, with a straight face, he dabbed.

-

tauriel was a hard elf to get ahold of. as captain of the guard, she was always busy, flitting about while completing all sorts of duties.

but finally, two weeks after legolas made a show of dabbing in the training arena, you found her in a rare moment of rest. you knocked on the door to her rooms and when she opened it, you walked right inside and plopped yourself on the nearest chair.

“ugh tauriel! finally, i’ve been trying to talk to you for ages!”

she smiles warmly, always having been one to enjoy the mannerisms that made you so intensely human. “it’s good to see you too, mellon nin,” her chuckle is soft and sincere. “what do you need?”

you sighed, snatching a throw pillow from the chaise you were on and reclining back in a way reminiscent of a therapist’s office. “i need advice about legolas.”

her smile turned to a knowing smirk. “ah, so you finally see what the entire kingdom already knows.”

“what do you mean ‘the entire kingdom knows’? what do they know?!”

“ah, i see i was mistaken.”

your resulting floundering was amusing to the redhead.

“i’m serious tauriel, i need your help!” you thought it useless to play coy and being vague would get you nowhere, so you told her exactly what you needed to know. “i need to know how to go about asking him on a date, or whatever it is that elves do when they’re interested in someone.”

“well,” she began, “if i know him as well as i think i do, he wouldn’t want you to conform to elven traditions to please him.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” at this point, you were beginning to question why you came to tauriel for help, seeing as she was being ridiculously cryptic and strangely unhelpful. “in case you forgot, he’s royalty. i can’t exactly woo him with ridiculous memes and call it a day.”

she nodded. “why not? if that is a regular human courting tradition where you’re from, why would he not find it acceptable? it’s part of who you are, and one could only call themselves a worthy suitor if they appreciate those things about their intended.”

okay, she had a little bit of a point. not that you would tell her so, of course. “but i can’t text him memes at ungodly hours of the night, there still is a lack of cell phones to contend with.”

for someone so smart and otherworldly, tauriel thought, you were rather oblivious when your feelings got in the way of your common sense. “then do those things in a different way. as you’ve told me before, there’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

after a few moments of silent pondering, you realized what she was hinting at. “i can draw the memes! or, well, i can ask meril for assistance in the matter, since i’m not quite used to using quills and such.” tauriel thought she could see the gears turning in your head (if that was indeed the right analogy).

she shouldn’t have been surprised when you leaped from her chaise and wrapped her in a tight hug. humans in your world must be a bit more affectionate than the ones she was vaguely familiar with, “thank you thank you thank you! i’ll let you know how it goes! bye!” with that abrupt exit, tauriel watched you fondly as you sprinted from your rooms, probably heading to the library where you could find meril.

-

legolas was fletching arrows when a courier appeared in his line of vision with a bow. “my prince, a letter for you.” he accepted the outstretched letter with a nod, wondering what it could possibly be.

the parchment was familiar to him, being the very same quality that occupied his own writing desk in his chambers. the only momentary pause was seeing that the few words were written in westron, underneath a drawing of a radish with a tiny face.

“you’re… radishing?” it took him a moment to dissect the pun, shoulders shaking minutely when the meaning fully registered. then his eyes caught your signature on the bottom of the page and his smile grew wider. he folds your letter neatly and tucks it into a pocket. when he goes back to his rooms next, he will deposit it securely on his desk to keep it safe.

the radish is the first of many of these pictures he receives from you, he soon learns that in the world you came from, they’re called “memes” and can convey any number of things depending on the content and context.

during dinner one evening, you passed him a napkin that he unfolded to find another vegetable drawing, this time a smiling carrot, with the words “i carrot a lot about you” that turned the tips of his ears pink. if his father noticed the blush he gave no indication of it.

your memes varied in artistic talent (he would know meril’s penmanship anywhere) but all carried the same intention, which seemed to be making him flustered at the most inopportune times. another thing he learned about memes was that they were frequently sent back and forth between two people.

his own visit to meril seemed to be long overdue.

-

meril has lived for several thousand years in service to the greenwood. yet, in all her centuries of knowledge and experience, she’s never seen two beings dance around feelings with the same grace as prince legolas (or lack thereof, where you were concerned).

you taught her what memes were and provided descriptions of what you deemed “templates” for her to draw,  master copies of a certain type of meme where the meaning of the meme changed depending on the text. it was a very interesting affair, if she did say so herself. they became more popular throughout the kingdom thanks to your influence, so much so that the prince himself came to her one day with an odd request.

“i need you to help me compose a meme worthy of mistor’s laughter.” he looked serious as he ever did, grim determination set in every pore of his face. none would know that he was simply trying to make a meme.

“you need to be more specific, your highness. your dear mistor can find humor in nearly everything around them. in fact, yesterday afternoon, they spilled nearly a month’s worth of ink onto a single piece of parchment and laughingly called it the thirteenth reason.”

legolas smiled at the story before his mind fully processed what she said. “they’re not my- thirteenth reason for what? what were the other twelve?”

meril shrugged, walking towards what became your desk in the library soon after your arrival. many of the templates were strewn about its surface haphazardly, half-finished memes next to their matching templates. “you should find everything you need here, your highness. if mistor arrives before you’re gone, i shall keep them occupied.”

“thank you. i greatly appreciate your help.”

finding blank parchment and a quill, he dipped into your ink jar and quickly got to work.

-

you generally never got letters. any missives you received from various elves were dubbed simply as messages that just happened to be written, which is why being told there was a letter for you had you perplexed. it wasn’t like modern earth discovered how to send carrier pigeons to middle earth in the few years you’ve lived in the greenwood.

instead of asking the courier several questions about the contents of the letter, you simply bid him thanks and quickly tore into it.

the wax seal of the royal line was recognized in seconds. thranduil wouldn’t waste his time writing anything out that he could simply tell you in person with a summons to wherever he happened to be.

that left legolas, and the thought made you giddy just thinking about it.

you registered that there were words written to you, but paid them no mind for the moment. what truly gave you surprise was the fact he used a template. you knew this because you recognized the format; a young girl standing in front of several other people who were giving her audience, a display board just behind her.

this bitch sent you a lisa simpson meme.

after a moment of bewilderment, you actually read the words that were just behind her.

“mistor’s laugh makes the plants grow stronger and could replace the sun with their joy”

you could tell that towards the end he worried about having enough room for all the words in the square with how they got just a smidge smaller. but that didn’t matter to you in the slightest, not when he wrote such a romantic sentiment solely for you. your giggles were the furthest thing from dignified but you didn’t care.

you had a prince to find (and hopefully kiss, if things went your way).

[soupsysoup]

Kwazii Head canons!! Not the best drawing, but the one I was gonna use originally looked like a fucking cheeto and did not look like Kwazii, sooo-, yeah.

Headcanons!!

-Trans Aro/Ace

-He/him

-Has ADHD and Dyslexia. I mean, look at him, I doubt I need to say more

-The hole in his ear is a ripped piercing

-Him and Inkling like to place random bets during their ping pong matches. Like trading out chores or taking over the other's chore as well as their own.

-Gup B is his comfort gup and misses it quite a bit when he's out and about with his Grand-dad

-Like Cali, his eye has a light sensitivity. It's genetic. It's not bc of the eye patch. Other than that, his eye works fine, however, his vision is getting worse in that eye, so-

-Sings sea shanties with Captain Barnacles. Him and Barnacles listen to Fish in a Birdcage. One album in particular that I haven't rlly bothered to find the name of, lol

-Has tried to learn an instrument, but fails every time, and gives up too easily

-Him and Barnacles actually bumped heads a few times when he was training to be an Octonaut (Yes, there's training to be one, and he just barely passed, it's a fucking miracle)

-In his Pirate days, the only he was widely known for was that he was Calico's grandson, so that put a huge target on his back.

-His parents died, but he was raised by Calico Jack when he was just a kitten, but after Cali left, the crew raised him.

-the crew that raised him told him so many stories abt Calico's daring feats and what not. As well as "monster" stories

-Very active imagination. Gives him anxiety

-Amazing artist. Him and Shellington draw together and Barnacles joins sometimes. It's just a quiet thing that they all do together. Tweak also joins in on occasion. They're just sitting in silence, drawing, maybe listening to music. It's one of the only times you'll ever see Kwazii focus so hard for so long

-If he's ever focused on something and you disrupt him, he isn't rlly happy abt it bc him focusing on something is abt as rare as a blue moon

-Bounces his leg and swishes his tail when fidgeting

-Is never truly still, even when he's asleep, he's always moving around.

-Boops the crew on occasion for no real reason (Especially Peso, Barnacles, and Shellington. Emphasis on Peso and Barnacles. Extra emphasis on Peso)

-Protective over Peso

-Yeow is 100% a vocal stim that he's been using since he was just a kitten. He got it from his grand dad

-Prior to adventuring to the Amazon, he was 99% sure his granddad was dead, but he somehow felt, deep in his bones, that Cali was still alive somewhere.

-Cried while holding a picture of Calico Jack after the Amazon episode. He actually started writing to him as much as he could.

-Got his sword skills (and possibly drawing skills) from his grand dad

-Used to follow Cali around, mimicking everything he did/said. Annoyed him at first, but grew to actually love him for it bc he realized that he was this kid's role model and I think that's sweet as hell

-After he decided to get his own ship, he realized how lonely he was. He discovered that Cali's old crew disbanded after he left, and would love to find them, but there's no traces of them left...maybe they're dead...or alive...we may never know...

-Gold tooth, like his grand dad. He probably got into a fight with someone and got the tooth punched right out of his mouth.

-Didn't get a proper gold tooth, till Peso gave him one, when he first joined.

-Last one to join the Octonauts

-Like his grand dad, he likes to curl up into a ball when sleeping

-Cuddle bug for life

-Has an older brother bond to Peso and uses the stories to scare him

-Him and Peso occasionally fight like actual siblings, but get along most of the time

-Was not the most cooperative person when he first joined. In fact, he was a little on edge and hostile to the group, but now, they're literally his family

-He cusses like crazy, but stopped bc Peso doesn't like cussing and Barnacles says it's kind of important to stay at least somewhat professional at all times

-Cannot handle any type of cold, what so ever. His room is a fucking Sauna, it's crazy

-Calico Jack was his ultimate transition goal when he was first transitioning.

-He's actually quite strong and it is totally bc of all the swimming he does on the job

-Part Carribean and Part Asian, but he grew up all over the place

[nocteacakes]

Snowbaird, 562 words, nsfw

(based off of the "Perfect" prompt from snowbairdprompt on Twitter)

Wrote some indulgent "fucking as healing" — this is a post-book AU where Lucy Gray stays in the Capitol and Coryo isn't caught. Lucy Gray has been getting weaker and weaker and they don't know why...

===

“Is this okay? Are you sure?” He’s asking even as he slides her skirt down her legs. His hands are shaking — with anticipation, with nervousness. He tears his eyes away from her golden thighs to watch her face and stare carefully into her eyes.

“Yes, Coriolanus, yes.” Her voice is hoarse and barely above a whisper. She’s gotten so weak. But his girl knows what she wants and he's going to do his best to give it to her. He reaches for her underwear and finds it sticky and damp.

~~

He slides into her torturously slow, inch by inch as he gauges her expression carefully. She’s wincing as if in pain, and he would stop except she’s told him to keep going. And secretly he doesn't know if he could bring himself to stop.

“You’re perfect Lucy Gray; oh my god you’re perfect.” She’s hot and impossibly tight, and Coriolanus almost comes just from slowly pushing into her. The sensation is unlike anything he’s ever felt. He sheathes himself fully inside her and breathes out slowly, closes his eyes in abject bliss. He could be told that he’s been given a full ride to the University and all their debts have been cleared and that still wouldn't top the sheer pleasure he's feeling being inside Lucy Gray right now.

“I love you.” He blurts it out. What is he saying? He stares at Lucy Gray in shock and sees his disbelief mirrored back at him in her expression.

“My mama always told me you can't trust a cat when it’s being given belly rubs,” she says with a soft smile. Her eyes are unfocused; she’s staring at some point in the air between them. Acknowledging what he said, but not reciprocating.

That’s fine. That’s perfectly fine.

He won’t think about it.

“I’ll make this good for you Lucy Gray, I’ll make you feel so good.” He withdraws a little and pushes back in, and Lucy Gray lets out a whimper.

“It’ll feel so amazing; I promise, baby.” And he’s kissing her hard, shoving his tongue inside her mouth and grinding against her each time he thrusts back inside. Sweat beads all down his back and shoulders and drips onto Lucy Gray, thin trails of moisture travelling over her tiny pert breasts.

She’s moaning into his mouth, thin arms loose around his neck and it spurs him to pick up his pace.

He shoves her up the bed with the force of his thrusts, the thin mattress springs creaking in protest.

“More, Coryo, keep going.” She's panting next to his ear and their combined slick and sweat is making obscene sounds as he pumps into her.

She’s taking everything he's giving her and she’s asking for more. Coriolanus obliges as best he can, fairly pounding into her now, sucking on her neck and tweaking her nipples. He can't stop. He can't stop.

Lucy Gray comes with a shriek and a shudder all down her body. Coriolanus isn't prepared for the pressure of her tightening around him and comes right after her with a drawn out groan. His pelvis won't stop twitching; he grinds and slams into her dripping pussy, every last drop squeezed out of him.

They’re both panting hard, and Coryo searches for her mouth with his own, tongue sloppy against hers.

She’s his girl now in every meaning of the word.

===

A/N: I wrote this in like a fever haze gremlin mode, so unfortunately it's present tense sigh. Anyway just wanted to write some unabashed snowbaird smut. There's a backstory to this (because I literally cannot leave things alone) but I don't think I'll write more in this AU

[helleboretks]

Port Mafia Styled Torture

This is a Buraiha Trio tickle fic! With Lee!Dazai, Ler!Oda, and verbal Ler!Ango! If this isn’t your forte, no need to read!

Summary: Oda just got off the phone with the curry chef after a little chat about the kids, threatening a little bit of ‘Port Mafia Styled Torture’. Dazai’s curious about it. He got his answer, just not in the way he expected to. (Dark Era, Eighteen!Dazai)

Dazai was rather content on a lazy night at the bar.

The familiar atmosphere held a comfort only Lupin could provide, its dim lights and peaceful nights were to die for, truly. For Dazai, it felt much more relieving in the presence of two people.

He wrapped his arms around Odasaku’s torso, sat contently on his lap, who was busy talking on the phone with the restaurant owner about who-knows-what, nursing a Whiskey on the Rocks with his free hand.

Ango was making idle chat with the bartender two seats down, sipping his own tomato juice, as he stated that he wasn’t in the mood for alcohol that night. And Dazai found himself here, simply relaxing against his friend, feeling confident that this would simply be a slow night at the bar.

He snuggled in closer to Odasaku’s side, absentmindedly letting his forehead press against the man’s cheek, who in turn abandoned his drink to give Dazai a quick pat on the head, letting his hand rest there after a moment. Dazai let out a little sigh, tuning in to catch the tail end of Odasaku’s phone conversation.

“-If Katsumi does it again, let him know I’ll be coming home to dish out some Port Mafia Style Torture, okay? Bye then.”

…Hoh?

“Hmm?” Dazai tilted his head up to look at Odasaku, who looked down at him with a raised brow. “What is it?” he asked, pocketing his phone as Dazai sat up. “Port Mafia Styled Torture? I haven’t heard anything like that before. What do you mean by it?”

Distantly, he noticed the scrapping of Ango’s bar stool and his footsteps, and Odasaku glanced at the other, before letting out a hum. “Just a term I came up with for the kids.” he plainly explained, causing Dazai to huff. “Yeah, but what is it?” He pouted, clearly displaying curiosity.

“Ah, well,” Odasaku contemplated, tilting his head to the side for a moment before ultimately shrugging. “It’s better to show more than tell, I suppose.” Now it was Dazai’s turn to cock his head to the side, confusion flickering on his face. The sound of Ango aggressively sipping his drink behind them certainly wasn’t helping, though.

Then Odasaku held up wiggling fingers.

Dazai was beyond confused.

“What…are you doing? Why are you moving your hands like tHAT-”

He had no time to react, zero seconds to collect himself before those wiggling fingers descended on his sides like quick lightning, startling a shriek out of the teenager. It was a foreign feeling that shot through his body, causing him to sputter and teeter into frantic laughter.

“Whahahahahat the-Odahahaha!!!” Dazai squealed when Odasaku dug dexterous fingers into his ribs, causing the poor boy to buck and squirm in Odasaku’s lap, who wasn’t at all deterred by the sudden rowdiness of the younger. That didn’t stop him from commenting though.

“Huh, I didn’t expect you to be this ticklish.” He hummed, giving an experimental tweak higher up his ribs, and leaning forward a bit to accommodate Dazai’s jerk backwards. “I can work with this.”

“This is terrible.” Ango said from behind, and Dazai could barely twist around to start reaching for help, a smile tugging his lips in a way he never thought were possible. “Ahahahango!! Hehelp mehehehe- AHhhahAhahAhh!!” He practically spasmed with screechy laughter when Odasaku took the opportunity to scribble along his back, having not expected his own back to be as ticklish as his front.

“Nope, I’m fine right here. I do not trust that man.” Ango hummed from the complete other side of the bar, Dazai kicking wildly and yelping with laughter as Odasaku considered his options, as if this were some delicate procedure and not him just tickling his crazily squirming friend to utter pieces. “Ow Ango, I feel hurt.” He nonchalantly muttered.

And then he poked around his lower back.

It was almost as if Dazai turned into a track runner, it was just that funny.

The boy let out a straight up scream, aggressively kicking his legs as he started slapping Odasaku’s hands, which were tweaking at the dimples that he must have remembered were there. The other leaned back a bit as Ango raised a brow. “Ah, that must feel terrible. Rest in peace, Dazai, I’ll be sure to write your eulogy.” It’s not like it was terrible… he was just unprepared, dangit!

“I thought that was my job?” Odasaku questioned, digging a knuckle into the middle of his back, only to jolt at the loud snort Dazai let out. “Jesus, that startled me.” Ango scoffed in amusement, watching as Dazai’s feet would bang against the bar table.

He’s pretty sure he kicked something else, from the clattering noise that startled a flinch out of both Ango and Odasaku, causing the man’s merciless fingers to falter and dig into a bundle of nerves, and Dazai couldn’t help the full body spasm that overtook him. Seriously, how was he supposed to know what he kicked if he was laughing too much to even care!?

“Oooh…apologies for that, bartender-” Dazai’s hand came cracking down against the counter, his finger catching on something solid before that went crashing down too. “....And that.”

Dazai could hardly hear what the bartender was saying when Odasaku started experimentally wiggling fingers into his hips, his laughter taking on a whole new pitch as he struggled, laughter sputtering without filter from his mouth, slapping his hand repeatedly around the bar table.

“BAHAhahaHahAHar!! PleEhEhehase!!!” He pleaded senselessly, unsure just what it was he was pleading for. “Were you trying to call the bartender? God, you’re just calling for anyone now, huh?” Ango hummed with a casual raise of the eyebrow, which shouldn’t be so damn funny in the situation, but Dazai found himself laughing more anyways.

He’s certain he almost slid off of Odasaku’s lap if the man hadn’t been there to hold him up, tears of mirth pricking his eyes as he squirmed and squealed, trying everything he could to worm himself out of the man’s dangerously deft hands. A fruitless endeavor in the end, but the attempt was appreciated.

“You okay there, Dazai?” Odasaku apparently found it in himself to be worried by the tears he was deliberately causing to stream down Dazai’s face, who finally was able to turn onto his back again, head and torso dangling off from the stool with a beet-red face. He couldn’t help but think how terribly mean that was, and how giggly he felt just from the aspect that Odasaku cared enough to ask for a raincheck.

Somehow, he gave a half-assed nod, wheezing all the same.

“Now he just sounds like a pterodactyl.” Came the comments of his other, equally mean friend, who pre-ordered some water and was just sitting there waiting now, waiting for Dazai to give up and beg for it to stop. “Hmm, I think that adds onto the charm.” Odasaku casually commented, further embarrassing their precious friend, who was frantically shaking his head and whining, wheezing, laughing his heart out. God, he didn’t want to think it, but-

This was so, so fun.

“He sounds like he’s being murdered though, and I do not know how to feel about that.” Obviously that was a lie, from the way he was hiding a small smile behind his tomato juice glass, but Dazai could hardly muster the strength to call him out on it. Dazai, being tickled to shambles, took way longer than he thought to get enough breath in him to finally, finally plead mercy.

“AIHIHIHIR!! I NEHEHEED AIHIHIR-ODAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” Odasaku took him seriously then, and the boy gasped in relief (and hidden disappointment) when he removed his hands, instead helping Dazai sit up properly. He adjusted him in his lap, asking again if the other was okay as Dazai greedily sucked in bucket-fulls of air, hardly noticing Ango approach with the glass of water.

Maybe it took Dazai an embarrassing few tries to actually grab the glass of water, Ango supporting it as he drank from it in relief. He let out a sigh, leaning back against Odasaku’s chest as Ango sat down, the bartender watching fondly from afar.

“Dazai?” Odasaku called again, making him realize how he had yet to answer the man’s question, frantically nodding his head in earnest. “‘M fine, ‘m fine.” He managed to mumble, letting his eyes slide shut as he took in all of what just happened.

It was unexpected, he was so unprepared. Those foreign tingles fried his brain in a way he couldn’t explain, but for some strange, strange reason…

He wanted Odasaku to do it again.

It was so fun, so unpredictable, so…not boring. It lit a fire in Dazai’s heart and the uncontrollable laughter left him feeling so light. He was practically boneless, the blush on his face felt so hot, yet he didn’t mind. He only found himself snuggling further into Oda’s gentle embrace, wishing to himself for the other to do it again. But at the same time, he was exhausted, he wanted a nap right about now, no more of that for him then.

“Well, now I’m just glad the Port Mafia’s enemies never thought of tickle torture to get the answers they wanted; we all would have been so screwed.” Dazai huffed at that, cheeks flushing for a whole other embarrassing reason now at Ango’s smartass comment.

“Oh fuck you, Ango.” He growled lightly only to quietly yelp and giggle feverishly at the tweak to his sides from Odasaku, practically melting on the spot. “Oi, no cussing at Ango. I’m not afraid to dish out some more of this for the next hour.”

Dazai hiccupped, mumbling ‘mercy mercy mercy’ and vigorously shaking his head. Thankfully Odasaku didn’t go through with his playful threat, instead letting his arms wrap around Dazai and settle comfortably.

“Finally, a knight and shining armor to save me from your insanity.” Ango rolled his eyes, letting out a sigh as he leaned his head against his palm. “Although, I suggest you get to cleaning up your mess as soon as possible. That would be appreciated.”

…Mess?

“Eh?” Dazai tilted his head, blinking his eyes open to look to the opposite side of them, almost shooting up in surprise at what he saw. Multiple bar stools had fallen to the ground, and Odasaku’s drink was miserably spilt over the bar counter, sitting there sadly.

An even brighter flush of embarrassment took over him, something he for once couldn’t seem to hide as he sulked heavily. “How did I do that..?” He muttered to himself briefly. “Don’t ask how; just get to cleaning already.” Ango pressed, downing the rest of his tomato juice.

“But Angooo!” Dazai complained, leaning heavily back against Odasaku, who bonked him lightly on the head. “Your mess, you clean it up.” He said, which caused Dazai to gap at him. “But you’re the one responsible for making me make this mess, Odasaku!” Odasaku hummed with a shrug. “You still did it, take responsibility. You're a mafioso for God’s sake, Dazai.” Ango huffed.

“Uuuugh, fine!” Dazai whined, sulking off Odasaku’s lap and begrudgingly setting to work on picking up the bar stools. He almost hissed at Odasaku chuckling behind him, but thought better of it, knowing that would lead him nowhere.

He didn’t complain as much as he usually did though, as for once, he wasn’t as opposed as he thought he’d be to cleaning up his mess. All he could really think about was when and how he could get that to happen again. You can’t really blame him.

After all, he’d really like to know all the ins and outs of this ‘Port Mafia Styled Torture’.

[pastelghost1q]

Daniel Ricciardo × reader NSFW

*warning smut, NSFW*

She fell in love with his brown eyes. She saw universe filled with happiness,heartache, kindness and gratitude in them. But she didn't just fell in love with his eyes, with his personality as well as his smile he was just so sweet, kind, adorable and handsome.

His smile and brown eyes was worth the world to her.

"Y/n!" She heard Norris as he Shaked her shoulder aggressively taking her back to reality. "Mhm yes?" She quickly turned her head towards him in suprise. "Want to come?" He asked making her very confused as she sruge her shoulders up at him. "Go where?"

"See look wat Daniel does to you, you don't even listen any more and were going to a party" He said laughing at her reaction. She quickly looked at Daniel then back at Norris. "No sorry not tonight but did he see I was looking?" "Nope luckily and good for you because he's not coming as well" Norris quickly said standing up walking away as he patted her on her shoulder. "Norris wait up what do you mean...." She tried to say But Norris was already out of the door leaving her stunt as she rolled her eyes and sighing by her self in the room of silence. "Y/n are you good?" She heard his voice call her name slightly, it sounded heavenly hearing as her name rolled out of his mouth. "Yeah I'm fine" she replied looking in his detection smiling slowly as he did the same looking up and her with his

Beautiful brown eyes.

*    *    *    *    *    *

Felling into the couch as her lips crached into his, lips slowly working in sync as it became heated within seconds. Who knew it was going to work out this way. Baiteing his lip, tugging.

His groan vibrating within her, he claimed her mouth as his tongue darted past her lips. His hands slowly slithered over the back of her thighs, gripping tightening and lifting her effortlessly. Her legs hooked at his back without a thought, she moaned lightly at the feel of his touch. She carded her hand Through his hair and pulled lightly. The grip on her thighs tightened at the action, as she smirked Into the kiss.

She slightly broke the kiss as she softly bite her lips as she do so looking up at his darkened pupils and pulling of his shirt throwing it across the room.

As he hoverd over her pulling her shirt off as well throwing it across the room somewhere. Her hands slide over his toned torso, feeling the muscle respond to her fingertips. At no thought he attacked his lips to her neck sucking on the sensitive skin as she cupped his neck closing her eyes as his hands slid up from her hips. Daniel eyes traveled over her body slightly as a flush of heat to her cheeks. Baiting her lip under the intensity of his gaze. His hands ran over her shoulders, slipping the straps of her bra over her shoulders and reached behind her back to expertly unclasp her bra with one hand and threw it across the room as well as we did with the shirt. He took one nipple into his mouth and wrapping his hand over the other squeezing slightly before tweaking the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. As she arched her back into him with a low moan escaping from her lips.

He contacted his movements, everything shooting warmth straight to her core. He let them Fall from his lips looking up at her. He swept his thumb over the sensitive bud with his hand which had been hooked at the underside of her breasts.

As she lead down waiting for her breath to regulate but it was to be in vain as he placed sloppy kisses trailing down her stomach as he bitede down at her hip bone and hooking his fingers in the waist band of her jeans. Pulling them down with her underwear. She watched as he licked his lips wrapping his hands under her thighs and dipping his head down at her womanhood feeling his warm breath sending Waves through her body as tension building up.

As he licked a striped through her folds, she barely heard his hum before he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked, she bit her lips to prevent herself from crying out his name. He pumped one finger into her as she closed her eyes thightly feeling bliss spread through her hole body. As her hips started to move on her own he held her slightly down with one hand as he started to grinding himself on the couch to gain some friction and by the third finger as her muscles tightened. She clutched a hand over her mouth to muffle the cry as she felt her muscles clench, wes removed his fingers licking up everything she had to offer.

He crawled back up her body pulling her into a kiss. "You look so beautiful" he whispered out. She reached between our bodies unzipping his pants and wrapping her legs tightly around him, she placed her hands softly on his chest and flipped him over so she was on top this time. His hands rested on her upper thighs as he looked at her from the new angle. She felt him prod against her thigh and crawling off of him pulling down his pants and boxers with her.

She quickly got back on top of him, fingers sweeping over his torso stopping as he took her hand in his and placing a chaste kiss on her inside of her palm snapping her attention back to the situation poking beneath her, she lifted herself and placed him at her entrance  sinking down slowly on him while biting down on to her lip. His hands we're gripping her thighs. She waited a few moments to adjust to his big size before actually moving up and down. His eyes snapped on her lazily meeting her movements. He cupped her breasts in his hands giving it a squeeze. She duged her nails into his chest as he tweaked her nipples.

His movements were getting more precise and forceful as wes thrusted ever deeper into her, hands trailing up her skin to settle on her hips for a mere second before her body was momentarily flying through the air finding herself under Daniel again. A cry erupted from her lugs which was quickly silenced by a bruising of a kiss. His hands trailed up her body taking his hands within his own he slowly dragged them slowly above her head. Feeling the familiar tightness within her belly as every sound she made was muffled a kiss that had her head spinning, she knew he was close as his thrusts were getting more erratic. He held my wrists within one hand which was most likely going to leave a bruise but she couldn't care less. He took his nou free hand pressing his thumb flatly to her clit. She dug her nails into his hand holding her down. She quickly baited down on her lip as she fell of edge of her release, eyes clenched shut tightly as her walls clenched around him as he muffled groans. He thrusted into her one last time as he emptied himself in her. He released her wrists and they snaked around his neck keeping him close for a few moments more. He broke the kiss laying his forehead against hers looking down at her as she tried to chatched her breath. She steard into his eyes a while before he flipped over laying down on the couch pulling her on top of him.

[jaxlol5]

copy pasting my review of the helluva boss music video here just because

for further context when i wrote the review on discord i had no idea that this was a COVER of an already existing song made by PARANOiD DJ back in 2021. just so i don't look stupid imma be tweaking a bit of my review that's just saying 'why would viv write THIS' because at most she just slightly changed it a bit, or that's what i'm assuming anyway.

i'm also gonna add a bit more to my review here such as the lyric changes and the overall emotional weight of the song. i'm not really gonna review it animation or song-wise, because the animation is fucking specTACULAR, and the song aspect doesn't matter much to me. i think the original 2021 version is pretty good at least.

this song [i'm guessing at least] comes after S2 E6 'OOPS', which was a half-sequel to S2 E1 'The Circus', meaning that Stolas finally has the Asmodean crystal that he plans to give to Blitzo, either to cut ties from him completely or to see if he'll keep talking to Stolas after he has a new way to get to earth that doesn't involve his grimoire.

(side note idk why viv keeps tryna push 'Stolitz' so much when Blitzo has actively said he doesn't like Stolas romantically and only sees him for the book. but she's gone on to change that multiple times so we went from Blitzo being forced to sleep with Stolas and hating it, to him actually having some kind of feelings, back to hating him, and now back to feelings, over and over. i know Blitzos whole character is that he can't accept affection properly but it's different when this 'affection' is just consensual r4pe via power imbalance and then has to be turned around so that neither Stolas or Blitzo are the bad guys when they clearly are.)

because of the song being made in around 2021, before season 2's downfall, the lyrics had to be changed to fit. which is completely fine to do, mind you, but the issue is what what lyrics in specific were changed. in the original 2021 version, Stolas mentions Octavia and how she must feel about everything happening in her life, but in the new version, it's cut out entirely. Why?? i know the main focus is supposed to be his relationship, but this entire situation is affecting his family as well, and especially Octavia. it makes no sense to completely neglect his own DAUGHTER for someone that he repeatedly fetishizes and treats as lower- but also someone that he idolizes and sees as his true love. i could go on and on about how the changes of their dynamic piss me off but that's a bit of a tangent.

speaking of which why is there 2 songs for stolas doing the same fucking thing. in S2E1 he's singing about blitzo while thinking about leaving him. now in THIS video he's.. singing about blitzo while thinking about leaving him, the only difference is that in the former song he didn't have the crystal, and now he does.

the song in general feels so forced especially with how the Stolitz arc has been progressing, which is barely. they last talked in S2E4 'WESTERN ENERGY' and the very little character it added was all shoved into a 3 second scene of Stolas scrolling thru text of them talking about the events after 'OZZIES'. and then we exclusively see Blitzos side of the aftermath, but not Stolas. he seems perfectly fine compared to Blitzo, or maybe he's not; why not fucking show that! and no the video doesn't count because it's talking about the events that take place after 'OOPS' not 'OZZIES'. pretty sure that former episode canonically takes place months before the latter.

i saw an amazing thread that breaks this video down if you compare it to pearl's song 'It's Over, Isn't It'. it just doesn't work the same way because of the insane power dynamic and the fact that Stolas wanted to keep Blitzo for so long, manipulating him for that want as well. at least he's finally going to let go NOW [i assume], but it feels long overdue, especially with how much these 2 have been forced to deal with.