#lackey vents

[okeydokeylackey]

you were far from good and yet I mourn you all the same to the growth you didn't get to have, to the joy you never got to find to the memories i make without you i know you're not proud of me, i'm not proud of me i'm alive, and you're not, and that's the only thing i've got i miss you i'm sorry for repeating your mistakes.

i dedicate this @heir-of-sapphirius comic to my dad, who's been gone for 8 years today. love you.

[bullet-ant]

"Before she even touched me, I realized what would happen. It was as if I'd known this for years, that I knew the secret to the reason I'd never approached anything remotely resembling sex: it would take me back to something I didn't want, a memory that had hovered for years, hidden, in my head."

Scott Heim, Mysterious Skin

[ladyofthenoodle]

fic idea from 2020 that the paris special unearthed from the archives of my brain:

So far, there wasn’t a single thing about this new reality that wasn’t terrible. She was grounded, for some reason, which she didn’t know about, and was therefore double grounded for breaking the rules of the grounding. Which she hadn’t known about!

To make matters worse, when she’d gone to text Alya to complain about the unfairness of it all, she realized she didn’t have Alya’s number. In fact, she didn’t have anyone’s number except her parents, Nadja Chamack, her grandmother, and someone called The Supreme.

She next turned to Tikki to vent, but when she checked her (admittedly cool) purse, she found her kwami wide-eyed, terrified, and most horrifiyingly, muzzled—which Marinette couldn’t figure out a way to undo. 

So she was stuck in the bakery on a Saturday morning with angry parents and no one to talk to and no ideas on how to get out of the worst version of Paris possible.

Which is when Adrien Agreste’s bodyguard walked in. Brief hope flared in her heart before extinguishing just as quickly when she saw he was alone.

Which she should’ve expected. With how awful this world was, she wouldn’t be surprised if Adrien didn’t even exist here. She couldn’t imagine a world this awful with him in it.

She bagged up the Gorilla’s order with a heavy heart and sent him on his way before looking out the bakery display window with a sigh.

Only to spot Adrien Agreste himself, with an asymmetrical haircut and thick kohl around his eyes, staring back at her. He was different than her Adrien—and she couldn’t say she was a fan of the hair—but he was just as handsome, and his eyes even more striking with the eyeliner.

When he noticed her looking, his eyes widened and his cheeks started to turn pink.

Was he blushing?

Marinette could feel her own cheeks heating up as he stared. She ventured a small, embarrassed wave, and he—he!—

He lifted his own hand, brought it to his lips, and blew her a kiss.

Crash!

Marinette, along with about 300 macarons, toppled to the floor.

“Good morning, Marinette!” said Adrien Agreste, during a time that was decidedly morning but far too early to be described as ‘good.’ 

She scowled at him.

“Girl, you okay?” said Alya Césaire, who was—who was speaking to her.

Right.

Alya Césaire was speaking to her. Because Alya Césaire, Hesperia’s favorite lackey, was apparently Marinette’s best friend.

And Adrien Agreste was the boy Marinette was in love with.

She plastered a smile on her face. “I’m great, Alya! Super dee duper. Absolutely swell. What a beautiful morning with all the sunshine and the…. morning.”

Alya looked unconvinced.

“And the Adriens!” Marinette added hastily. “I mean, the Adrien. Because there’s only one Adrien and he sure is… here. Hello Adrien! Your face is looking very attractive this morning, because you are an attractive person. And that’s… something positive I can say about you.”

“Thanks, Marinette!” said Adrien with a dopey little smile. She wasn’t sure if he was mocking her or just deeply stupid. If her diary entries were to be believed, it was probably the latter. “Your face is looking attractive this morning as well. Did you do something new with your makeup?”

Marinette had done her makeup the same way she did every day, but she supposed his Marinette opted for a boring girl next door ‘no makeup makeup’ look.

Alya squealed next to her before giving her shoulder an excited squeeze.

Marinette took several deep breaths.

“Yes, I thought I’d try something new.”

Adrien smiled and nodded.

Alya shoved her forward.

Marinette barely managed to restrain herself from sending Alya a patented Toxinelle Death Glare. Instead, she smiled wider at Adrien.

Her cheeks hurt.

“Thank you soooooo much for noticing my makeup. That is a thing I am excited about. I love putting on makeup to impress cute boys, tee hee!”

Adrien’s face fell. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply—I know you always dress for you, Marinette! That’s something I really admire about you.”

His eyes were so earnest, so sincere, and for a second, she almost—

Marinette cleared her throat. “That’s so nice! You can leave now.”

Adrien blinked. 

“Bye!” She shooed him.

“Oh, um, bye Marinette,” he said with a sheepish wave, and then he left.

Nailed it.

“Girl, what the actual fuck?”

[sweetbunpura]

Held by Strings

I thought of an idea....where Fellow's former boss manages to find him at NRC and pays him a visit.

It happens when everyone's in class, Fellow and Gidel return to Ramshackle to see their former boss and his lackeys in the dorm. Fellow's first instinct is to protect Gidel at all costs and get him away from them. He sends Gidel off further into the dorm while he tries to hold off the others. One of the guys goes off after Gidel, who thanks to all the hide and seek he's played with Grim, manages to hide in one of the crawlspace and finds himself in the ac vent.

Gidel escapes being captured and crawls around, he finds himself above the lounge area and sees Fellow getting thrown around from the vents.

"Did you think you could escape, Honest?" The old boss says as his boys rough up the fox. "That I wouldn't find you?"

Fellow grunts as he gets punched in the stomach and thrown on the ground. He catches a glimpse of Gidel in the vents and signals at the boy to run away.

"I managed to get away from you for months." Fellow smirks. "It took you this long to realize we left? I thought you had eyes everywhere?"

Gidel covers his mouth as his brother gets punched in the face, his body is being forced up by the lackeys as the boss continues beating him up. The cat beastman crawls his way out of the doors and books it for the school. He hopes he can find his big brother or mama before Fellow dies.

[blenselche]

swear i havent forgotten about this proposal comic

im just... my wip list is too long but i do it to myself.

I started a Bubbline oneshot insert for Keep Yourself off of bg lines so I'm gonna dump about that under the cut.

So there's a few lines through the fic that I wanted to expand on or use to shift the focus to the girls, like the bit in ch1 about Tom and Jo and co.:

“Some old human friends made [the map] for me if I ever decided to join them after I was done with the vamps,” Marcy supplies with a sad note to her voice and a small shrug. The princess purses her lips and gently brushes the back of her fingers against Marceline’s upper arm.

PB's confused as to why Marcy would stick around when nothing was keeping her in Ooo, esp if she was being eagerly awaited by friends on the Archipelago. Cuz she's dense, that gum doesn't have a very high EQ. They've got some shit to work out about her "overprotective southern dad" flavored distaste about Fern cuz it branches off of him being a demon, but Marcy is a demon, obviously. Gotta unpack that finely aged "monster trash" resentment sneaking out in ch3:

Finn watches PB and Fern talk with a tight frown.

“So,” Marceline hovers into his line of sight with high eyebrows, “date night?” She snaps her tongue against the ‘t’s. “He works.” Finn uncrosses his arms and walks off to put more dishes away. “You’re not denying it.” She follows after him like a balloon tied to his wrist. “He’s my boyfriend, he’s been my boyfriend,” Finn bends down to pick up the Gumbald goblet and chuck it back into the washtub, “thought she woulda spilled that to you.” “Eeeeh— she did, but I didn’t believe her. ‘Finn is kissing up on a demon with his face’? Not something I saw ticking off of life’s bingo card.” His shoulders set, jaw tensing. “Crude way to put it,” he mumbles from the corner of his mouth. “We’re not exactly the easiest people to get cuffed to.” She crosses her arms defensively. “You have issues with the demon stuff yet?” “Aside from the scars? Not really. Why,” he wipes a dish off and looks up at her hanging close to the ceiling, “what do I have to look forward to?” “Apathy, detached maliciousness, extreme mood swings, shrewd attitude,” she lists on her fingers. “No conscience. You know, antisocial jazz. We get obsessed and jealous, it can be mega annoying for the person we're stuck on. You sure you're braced for an eternity of all that?” Finn snorts and throws the towel down on the counter. “I dunno,” he shrugs and turns to lean against the oven, “the dude balances me out. He’s like a feral cat that wants attention but bites you if you try. It’s endearing.” Marceline’s arms droop. “Huh.” “What?” “Must be nice— for him, I mean.” Her eyes inch to Bonnibel, view long and wistfully somber. “T’not have to wear a mask. Feel like there’s nothing wrong with you.” Finn narrows his eyes up at her. “Does Bonnie make y—“ and then Fern potshots him. “Augh–!”

They arrive together to HW's for the boys' party, and Bonnie's been venting about her relatives to Marceline because she knows that:

Marcy leans back and cracks her fingers, rolling her shoulders as though it’s a chore to remember. “Her cousin, he’s one of Gumbald’s lackeys. ‘Not a threat, just annoying���— her words.” She taps her fingers against the table and swirls the straw around in her strawberry lemonade. “Bonnie made him so she could have a friend,” she quietly adds.

so they've probably reconciled somewhat by ch4. Frieda's hanging around and she and PB are so alike, Marceline's heightened demonic jealousy could be an interesting conflict to throw in. She's bonded to PB-- she's been bonded to PB for centuries-- but she's never had to deal with having a real "rival" (despite Frieda and Susan being the gross PDA couple) for PB's attention.

idk, it's all still disjointed word soup in my notes app at this point.

It's been a year and the final draft has been sent in to be bound, but what the hell, right? People like wlw angst.

So you see what I'm saying about having too many wips lmao. My brain jumps a lot.

[fanged-fanfics]

Hello! I saw requests are open (maybe I lagged if they aren't and I'm sorry if they did have a nice day!) But if the requests Are open then may I ask for Wukong and Macaque x female reader hc's?

The reader us a really worried person so she always asks for when her monkeys are gonna come back about the time, place, who they are with. Not cause of insicurity, but more for concern as she knows demons could be after them and kidnapp them or something. But sometimes the boys forget the time or come back like 1-2 hours later and then the reader is like clingy and is scolding them with a concerned tone and also saying that she called many times if the monkeys had their phones on.

I'd like to see their reaction, how'd they act, how'd they calm the reader down, how they'd react afterwards and more! If you are not gonna write this it's alright I hope you have the greatest of days and I am sorry for wasting your time.

🌙💜 Anxiously Waiting — Macaque and Wukong x Fem Reader HCs 🧡👑

Genres: Romance, Mild Hurt/Comfort || she/her pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆˚｡⋆୨🌙👑୧⋆˚｡⋆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧. ݁₊ ⊹

- The first few times it happens, Macaque is pretty defensive. He's never responded well to being scolded, and that includes when he just gets home. After having the situation explained to him though, he starts to calm down. He still has a habit of coming back at odd hours of the night for a while, but he slowly adjusts it to being back within a certain time frame

- Macaque won't admit it, but he understands the concern. Especially after the period of time where he was forced to work for Lady Bone Demon. He remembers how he felt back then, never knowing when her or her lackey were gonna show up again. So even if he may complain or grip initially, he still takes the time to make adjustments for you

- Now that he's used to it, he'll be more reassuring when you're anxious about his late arrivals. He explains to you where he was, talks you through your worries and lets you check him over to be certain he's okay. He allows you to cling as much as you want when he's back

- He makes sure to send you some sort of message or warning if he thinks something is gonna be keeping him extra late. Aside from that, he's really not the best with phones since he's been so detached from mortal inventions his whole life, but he made sure to memorize the call and text function for you. He uses his keen hearing to make sure he doesn't miss a notification and can always respond

- Macaque does try to offer you some techniques he knows to reduce anxiety to try and help you be a little more accommodated when he and Wukong aren't around. Things like scents (candles, incense, etc), meditation, or even just leaving some small trinket behind for you to hold on to in the meantime

- Wukong, on the other hand, admittedly understands the worry right off the bat. He knows he's led a very dangerous life, and he's still learning to accept that there are people relying on him and looking out for him again

- He feels bad about you being so worried, but he at first downplays it by accident with his laid-back attitude. He ends up feeling really guilty every time he messes up, and how his attempts at joking around like usual don't seem like they're helping

- After leveling with you and communicating everything, Wukong tries his best to be as attentive as possible. He knows things like the training he does for MK and helping stop end of the world threats usually keep him very busy, but he texts you much more frequently about how things are going

- That being said though, being so busy means he might miss a few messages. And when he comes home late, he allows you to vent out your concerns without any interruption. Afterwards, he reassures you on how everything was okay, apologizes profusely for forgetting, and offers to do anything you want to relax now that he's back

- Wukong tries to help ease your concerns with pictures. Once he's got his hands on a phone, he'll begin using it to take a bunch of pictures of where he is and who he's with. You get a lot of ones with MK that are either blurry cause he's in the middle of training or posing along with Monkey King. He especially makes sure to take pictures if he and Macaque are in the same area so you know where both of them are

- Both Wukong and Macaque make sure to spend as much time with you as possible when they're home to try and make it easier. Macaque does it in more subtle ways, calmly hovering around you or offering a snarky comment every once in a while. Wukong is more obvious, making sure to have physical contact with you in some way and trying to actively participate in whatever you're doing

- When one has to go out but the other stays, the one that's still home tries his best to keep you grounded and comfortable. He amps up the affection too in an attempt to make you feel better, and also sends reminders to the one that's out to keep you updated

- If they know they're both about to leave for a while, they have conversations with you about it the earliest that they can. They use their own methods (Macaque being calming and Wukong being comforting) to ease you into the idea. Once they are out, they do their usual methods to keep you updated and stick to you like glue when they get back

[softgreengrass]

would you be willing to do a sad nat one shot? sorry I just need to feel something 💀

Punishment

Natasha Romanoff x reader

Summary: you are dead (sorry) and nat has to live with that 😞 (most of this takes place inside of a dream hopefully it’s not too confusing)

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: death,, referenced torture

Author’s Note: sorry this is on the shorter side! tysm for requesting ☺️ i also use fanfiction to feel so hopefully it’s sad enough for you

It’s a nightmare, like always. You’re there, like always.

“Nat!” your voice rings out, light and sweet in the hazy morning light, and Natasha rolls over, burying her face in your side of the bed. It’s still warm. “Nat!”

“Five more minutes,” she grumbles back.

Your footsteps come to a stop next to the bed. “I made cinnamon rolls, you know.”

Natasha smiles to herself. It all feels so, so real. The sheets smell like your lotion, and the sun is pale through the curtains, just like it always is in winter. How it was the last winter you were with her.

You poke her shoulder. “Aren’t you supposed to be a superspy? Get up.”

“I’m off the clock,” she says, sitting up anyways. The glimmer in your eyes looks so real. Her lungs tighten at that, and she wraps her arms around your waist, hugging you tight.

You laugh and run your fingers through her hair. “Missed me that much, huh?”

She closes her eyes and sinks deeper into you, praying as hard as she ever has. Begging for just one more life with you. She remembers how to breathe again as you scratch her scalp gently and lean into her embrace, and she inhales you again.

After far too little time passes, you rest your hands on her shoulders. “Come on, baby. They’re gonna get cold.”

She lets you lead her out of the bedroom, hands intertwined. The apartment looks just how you left it. Because it’s so easy to, she slips back into routine. Like you’re there every day when she wakes up. She tugs open the blinds over the sink and waters the plants on the windowsill; you pour two cups of coffee. You sit down at the table together like it’s any old Saturday.

“What’s with you today?” you ask with a slight smile, immediately pulling a cinnamon roll from the pan.

“Me?” Natasha replies.

“No, the milkman.”

She grins, shaking her head. “Sorry. I don’t know, I’m just out of it.”

“Well, you’re not too out of it to talk crossword, right?”

God, she had forgotten about that. You’ve been on a crossword kick lately, though you heavily rely on Natasha’s knowledge bank of language and policy and science. Really, you mostly cover the pop culture clues. “Never.”

You spread the newspaper out between the both of you and drop a pencil in front of her. “I’ll start with down, you’ll start with across?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You scribble down some answers, eyebrows furrowed.

Natasha stands up for a moment, just to get the cream, but when she turns back around she’s not in the kitchen anymore. She’s strapped to that chair, staring at you in that cell. Your eyes are bloodshot. The dreams always wind up here, no matter how innocently they start, and Natasha’s stomach churns.

“Nat,” you croak, and her heart shatters for the millionth time.

She thrashes against her restraints, but they must be made of fucking vibranium because they cut into her wrists without budging. She doesn’t have any tricks up her sleeve — she’s in her pajamas, for God’s sake. No widow’s bite or portable EMP. Not even a way to signal Clint.

“Nat, please,” you beg, your voice as raw as the bruises on your face.

“I’m going to-” she says, struggling against the restraints again. “I’m going to get you out.”

But of course, she can’t. She might as well be a bronze statue in that chair. They’re going to make her watch you die again.

She racks her brain for as long as she can, fights the excruciating dejá vu. Maybe something will be different this time. Maybe she can get someone’s attention, some lackey she can convince to let her out. She’ll murder them all, then. Murder them and take you home.

A vent catches her eye, in the corner of your cell. You don’t have much at your disposal, but there’s a food tray on the floor that might work. She has to say your name three times before you recognize it.

“What?” you ask suddenly, eyes wide.

“I need you to try something, okay?”

You’re weak. You’ve been there for days at the minimum, been under intense interrogation lights and an array of torture methods. Natasha was the one trained for that, not you. “I don’t know…”

“Please.”

You swallow iron-tinged spit.

“Can you break that in half?” Natasha whispers, flicking her eyes to the tray. She doesn’t remember if you’re under surveillance or not. She figures you must be.

Your hands shake as you reach for it. It must be tin, that’s how flimsy and light it is, but you know you don’t have the strength to break it by hand. That ship sailed about three gut punches ago. You’d vomited out everything but your will to live, though that was fading fast too.

“Use your legs,” Natasha hisses like she can read your mind. “Stick it under something, get leverage.”

The sight of you stumbling to the bunk sends fire up her throat. She’s going to burn them all alive.

You wedge the tray under one of the bunk’s legs and pull up on the other side before stepping down on it as hard as you can. All it does is fold in half.

“Fuck,” Natasha mutters. “Can you rip it? With your teeth or something?”

You’re pretty sure your teeth would fall out if you so much as bite an apple, so you drive the tray down on the sharpest edge you can find: the corner of the tiny sink. Later, Natasha will think about how strange it was that the cell had so many amenities. She’ll come up with triple the ways to escape. All too late.

The corner pierces it, and you claw at the hole until the tray is split in half. It slices your fingers in more places than you can count.

“Use it on the vent,” Natasha says. Despite herself, she feels an ember of hope in her chest. You’d never gotten this close before. She can barely watch as you balance on top of the sink, trying to shove the sharp little metal sheet into the seam between the vent and wall. It’s slippery with blood.

A door in the cell she hadn’t even noticed swings open. A man in black storms in. Before she can get a word out, he grabs you, throws you to the ground.

Natasha recoils, forcing her eyes back open as quickly as possible. He kicks you, over and over, and you cry for mercy.

Her restraints seem to tighten. They cut off her circulation, so that not even dislocating her wrists would let her save you. She’s absolutely helpless. You sob and curl into yourself, and she’s sure she’s never felt such anguish before. But she has, and she certainly will again.

Her eyes shoot open to dark ceiling. She’s in the living room, using the couch like a cot. She still hasn’t brought herself to touch the bed you made. She probably never will.

She drags herself to her feet and shuffles to the kitchen counter, turning on the electric kettle. Only chamomile helps her breathe now.

All those people she’d managed to kill. All those missions she’d executed to perfection, for the Red Room and HYDRA and Fury. All of the people caught in the crossfire of her tunnel vision. And yet, in the single most important moment of her life, she had failed. Failed.

She figures it could’ve been karma. A cosmic punishment for the arrogance of trying to wipe her slate clean. With that much sin to atone for, she shouldn’t be able to live happily. That’s what the universe seems to think, at least.

[lily-blue]

Baby, we’re more alike than you think

☆ characters: rich kid!eunwoo & rich kid!you ☆ genre: rich kids au, college au ☆ warnings: bullying, implication of sexual assault (it crosses the reader’s mind at one point, but doesn’t happen for real) ☆ request: DV24. form this prompt list ☆ summary: Eunwoo doesn’t like to be cornered, so he turns the tables and leaves you with no other option but to beg for his mercy ☆ words: 1,4k ☆ dedicated to: @dat-town​​ ♥

Most people would have called you an idiot for pretending that you weren’t part of one of the most influential families in your country - in a prestigious university, no less -, but you liked having friends who liked you for who you were rather than for how much your father’s company was worth, hence you couldn’t stop the act.

It had started out completely unintentionally, though; you had sat next to this cute brunette on your first day of university and seeing the Demon Slayer keychain dingling on her bag, you had asked her about her favourite character since you were also a fan. You had hit it off right from the start - as soon as Yuqi had picked the Water Hasihra whom you, too, had a soft spot for -, and in-between lectures and seminars, you had slowly discovered at least half a dozen things you had in common. You had never become friends with someone so cool so easily. It had felt like it had been written in the stars.

Considering that you two had many things to talk about, obviously your financial situation or family background hadn’t come up immediately. And if you had wanted to be honest, you had preferred it that way. However, the difference between your lives had become painfully obvious when entering the university canteen, some spoiled brats had felt the need to push Yuqi’s tray out of her hand and her on the ground. Their reason? It had been to put her back to her place and simultaneously humiliate her for being on scholarship.

Your throat had closed up as the realisation had hit you, but you quickly regained your cool. You could have easily put an end to the harrassment if you had introduced yourself properly - being the youngest child and the only daughter in your family, you hadn’t been shown off to the public yet -, but one look at the anger on your friend’s face had said it all: Yuqi wouldn’t have appreciated a rich kid’s help. On the contrary! She might have given up on you and your friendship altogether before you could have formed a strong enough bond. So you had said nothing.

Instead, you had crouched down beside your friend and helped her up, dragging her out of the canteen, all the way to a more secluded part of the campus. You hadn’t talked a word about her scholarship, but you had let her vent about the entitled nepo babies of your country and in a matter of mere months, you two had become the loudest spokespersons on the injustice in your university.

Being a Communication major, your assigned role was to write juicy, exposing articles about your fellow university students who abused their family’s power and while most of the time you were well-hidden in the shadows, behind your laptop, sometimes you had to put yourself out there to investigate. This was how you ended up in an empty tutoring room on the second floor of your school’s library with Cha Eunwoo whose lackeys had left the two of you alone as soon as the young heir had told them to.

‘Give me your phone!’ The boy demanded and while a teeny-tiny part of your brain was aware that you should have been more afraid, you were too pissed to do as he said. The only people who could boss you around were your parents and grandparents and even them rarely did so. Who was he to think you were his servant?

‘You mistake me for those losers. I don’t have to do anything you tell me to,’ you reminded him with a scoff, your perfectly made locks bouncing as you put your whole chest into this disrespectful, lowkey mocking gesture. You didn’t break eye contact. In fact! You kept your chin high.

‘I don’t like repeating myself,’ Eunwoo said, his facial expression so cold, you could feel the chill it sent down your spine when he took a step closer to you. However, you were your father’s daughter and despite your poor-girl-act, you had pride.

You linked your arms in front of your chest and let a lopsided grin adorn your rose-tinted lips.

‘Look at that. We actually have something in common,’ you mocked, enjoying the smallest cracks on his mask even though it didn’t take long for him to hold onto his self-control. He had clearly moved in the same circles as you would have done if your parents hadn’t been so protective over you.

Your grip tightened around your phone a little when Eunwoo took another step closer to you, but you refused to show how intimidated you really felt until your back hit one of the white walls. Because then… then you gulped. And that was a telltale sign, blood in the water. Just like a shark, the boy seemed ready to tear you to pieces.

‘Oh, we have a lot more in common than you let your pathetic little friends in on,’ Eunwoo said while he brushed a stray lock behind your ear. His touch was burning even though his finger barely grazed your jawline. 

He leaned closer, so that his lips were right next to your earshell. Your heart was beating in your throat.

‘You like airing our dirty laundry, don’t you? How about we do that to yours. Wouldn’t you like that?’ He taunted you, his voice barely above a whisper and yet, at that moment it felt like he was talking into a microphone. A loudspeaker. ‘One more thing in common.’

He knew. Cha Eunwoo knew that you were faking it.

He knew and he enjoyed his leverage on you, which made your blood boil.

‘Fuck off,’ you pushed the boy further with both of your hands, but after the initial surprise faded, you lost your adventage. He invaded your personal space once again, effortlessly.

Eunwoo squeezed your cheeks, your lips puckering all sulkily.

‘Ah-ah. Let’s do something about that mouth of yours,’ he taunted you and for a second, by the way he was staring at your lips, you thought he would kiss you.

You yelped when he dug his fingers into the soft flesh in the crook of your neck and pushed you on your knees. What was happening? Would he… you tried to turn your head away, but  his grip was too firm. Would he force you to suck him off in the library? He wouldn’t have, would he?

‘Start to beg. And don’t forget to kiss my feet while you’re at it,’ Eunwoo said and while his demand was outrageous, the relief you felt when you realised that he didn’t intend to rape you outpowered your annoyance.

Actually, you were so caught up in your slowly dissolving fright and the reassurance that his covered crotch in front of your face was a mere consequence of your heights that you lost touch with reality for a second.

Why were you kneeling in front of him? What had he said? 

‘Beg for what?’ You asked, more confused than anything, which earned an eye roll from the boy. He crouched down in front of you and shook his head as though he was disappointed, as if you should have cared what he was thinking about you.

‘To keep your secret, of course. Though, if you want something else, too… Well, I might give it to you if you’re asking for it nicely,’ he shot a disgusting grin at you, smug and suggestive, which made you want to spit at his face.

You almost did so.

‘Go to hell,’ you mumbled under your nose, finally able to look away with his hand off your body. Still, it didn’t make you feel less caged. His closeness in itself chained you to the wall, and you hated it.

You hated him.

You hated that even though he knew who you were it didn’t shield you from his cruelty. That he didn’t give two damns about your family, but could use them against you at the same time.

‘Your friend works in the school library in her free time, doesn’t she? Should I go and find her?’ He asked, clearly amused and you bit into your lower lip to suppress another curse. He was clearly unaffected by your words and you really shouldn’t have risked pissing him off for real, should you?

As much as you would have liked to tell him to feel free to look for Yuqi and leave you the fuck alone, a part of you knew the girl would have hated you not only for lying, but for being rich as well. There was no way she would have forgiven you if Eunwoo had aired your dirty laundry and you loved Yuqi.

The possibility of losing her made your hand shake. When Eunwoo stood up and nudged your shin with his foot, you pressed your lips together and bowed.

You refused to let him see your tears fall when your lips touched his designer shoe.

the end.

[exhaslo]

Kinktober Day 14- Mafia!Grimmjow x Reader (Phone Sex)

*Requested by Reader*       

Honestly, you should have known better than to get involved in dangerous situations. You should have known better, but when it was your vagina doing the talking, all sense left the window. You remembered the first time you saw Grimmjow. His tall and cruel dementor made your panties soaked. You were sure he had that effect with all the woman, so when Grimmjow started talking to you, you nearly died. Your heart almost leaped out of your chest when he asked for your name.

        You should have known better when he gave you his number. Everything about him screamed trouble. So and so that you actually listened to your brain and ignored him. Grimmjow did not like that and started to peruse you. You, being so head over heels for the man you met just once, was all for the game. Eventually, you gave in and started to see Grimmjow whenever he was free. You should have known better, but god he was hot.

        Eventually, you found out the truth, that Grimmjow was a member of the Espada mafia. He had his own branch family and people who worked under him. You were scared when you first found out. Grimmjow was close to bribing you to stay, but you were swayed by his words. He promised to protect you and keep you safe. That you were his and his alone. He always knew how to make your heart flutter.

"And then the customer had the gall to tell me that I was doing my job wrong! Like, ugh! I hate my job!" You cried, venting to Grimmjow as the two of you walked downtown. Grimmjow was on his phone with one arm around your shoulder,

"I told ya to quit. I can take care of ya, babe." He said lowly, barely paying attention. You huffed your cheeks out,

"I can't let you spoil me! I want to work!"

"Hm? Then work for me," Grimmjow put his phone away, smirking at your expression, "I can make good use of ya, babe. Nothin' that ya can't handle and of course...something only ya could do for me."

"G-Grimmjow! D-Don't say stuff like that in public!"

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

        You truly considered Grimmjow's offer for a moment. You really hated your job and Grimmjow was just so charming. You knew what he was implying. He wanted you to be his fuck toy at work. The thought made you quiver with delight. You and Grimmjow had sex a few times already. He was so rough with you, but you loved each moment of it. The only reason you were afraid of taking his offer was because of his peers and lackeys.

        They must have thought that you were just his sex relief for the time being. You heard them talk about it once. That you were just a temporary fuck for their leader. It hurt your feelings, but Grimmjow always made those thoughts go away. He always reassured you that you were only for him. There was no way any of this was fake. This relationship you had with him felt too real.

"Hey, (Y/n), I gotta go out for a job outta town. I trust ya to behave while I'm gone." Grimmjow wrapped his arms around your waist, inhaling your scent.

"Awe, how long will you be gone?" You whined, melting into his touch.

"Bout a week. So gimme some love before I go."

"Mhm, only if you promise-"

"I ain't promising shit."

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

        It was nearing the end of the week and you hadn't heard from Grimmjow. His job made you worry. Being part of the mafia was not something anyone could do. You've seen news reports of mafia members being killed from a trifle within families or life in prison. You were afraid of that happening to Grimmjow one day. You were afraid to tell him, but you loved Grimmjow. You just hoped he felt the same. 

        After a long and hard day at work, you were happy to see your apartment. A nice hot shower and some food was going to make you feel so much better. You really hated your job. Once you refreshed, you planted yourself on the couch for some television drama. Feeling your phone buzz, you cheered quietly seeing that it was Grimmjow.

"Grimm! Are you okay?!" Your tone full of worry.

"I'm fine, babe. Fuck, I wish I was there now, I need ya."

"Grimm?" You heard him panting for air, "Are you sure you're okay?" You asked once more.

"Yea, just lemme hear yer voice. I ain't there to make ya cry,"

"Oh!" You felt your cheeks burn up, "Y-You want me to-"

"Yea, I wanna hear yer voice. It will make me feel better."

        How could you say no? Making your way to the bedroom, you crawled on the bed. It was the only place you could get horny, unless it involved Grimmjow. Putting the phone on speaker, you laid down and started to massage your breasts. Grimmjow wanted to hear you. Imagining Grimmjow's hands instead, you let out a whimper.

"Yer imagining me, right. Where are ya touchin'?" You could hear his smirk.

"My boobs,"

"Awe, my melons. Hehe, are ya pinching em nipples for me."

"Y-Yes."

        You arched your back slightly as you did what Grimmjow said. You wanted Grimmjow here. You wanted him to touch you. You were never really good at doing it yourself.

"Start rubbin' yer clit, babe. I wanna hear ya moan." Grimmjow groaned.

        You whined, wanting his touch. You took your panties off and placed your fingers over your sensitive bud. Just listening to Grimmjow giving you commands was making you wet. If only he were here to do something about it. You wiggled your hips as you started to moan. This was as far as you could go. Rubbing your clit until you cam. 

"That's right, babe. Keep goin' lemme hear ya beg for me." Grimmjow chuckled, "Ya want my dick in ya, huh? I wanna hear ya say it."

"I-I do! Grimm, when are you coming back." You moaned, closing your legs as you felt your walls starting to clench, "I miss you."

"Soon, baby. Grab one of those toys ya got. Imagine my dick enterin' that slutty pussy of yours." 

        You arched your back, moaning as you reached your orgasm. You could hear Grimmjow chuckling, demanding more. You were hesitant, but you grabbed one of the dildos that you rarely used. Placing it on the bed, you hovered over it. You closed your eyes, listening to Grimmjow grunt and moan. He was masturbating too. Oh, how you wish he was here.

"Are ya ready, babe?"

"Y-Yes. I-It's mhm...g...going in..." You whimpered, sliding the dildo into your hole.

"Fuck, wish that was my dick, don't ya?"

"Y-Yes! Hah, Grimm!"

"Yeah, fuck yer self dumb imagin' that was me. Lemme hear yer voice."

        You moaned loudly as you bounced on your dildo, listening to Grimmjow's voice. His low grunts, helping your imagination as if he were the one fucking you. Your bouncing started to slow down as you felt yourself about to burst. You whined, rubbing your clit, trying to chase your high.

"Grimmjow!" You moaned loudly.

"(Y/n)" Grimmjow cussed lowly as you cam, "Fuck, babe, I'm gonna make sure ya quit yer job for real. Need to have ya here with me."

"Hah, but..."

"No buts. Yer my girl. I'll be back soon, I'll call ya again to hear yer voice."

"Yes, Grimm."

        You let out a low whimper as Grimmjow hung up. You shivered as you went to clean your dildo and yourself. Grimmjow was going to be home soon. That was all you needed to hear.

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

"Lemme hear ya louder. Need to make sure those fingers are doin' their job." Grimmjow chuckled darkly over the phone.

"Y-Yes, I-I ah...ah..."

"That's it, louder."

"G-Grimm...G-Grimm!" You cried out, trembling as you were reaching your first orgasm.

"Fuck, look at ya go." Grimmjow smirked as he opened your door, still on the phone, "Gonna make sure ya keep cryin' my name."

"G-Grimm!" You moaned, staring at him as you cam.

        Grimmjow hovered over you, replacing your fingers with his. You grabbed onto his shoulders, trembling under his touch. Grimmjow took his phone and started to record. He placed the phone next to you, wanting to capture every single moment. Grimmjow sucked against your neck, his fingers pumped inside your pussy faster.

"Ya know, hearing ya so desperate over the phone was fuckin' delicious. I might make it a normal thing."

"B-But....I rather....have....ah~"

"Awe, ya rather have my dick fuck ya? How cute." Grimmjow chuckled, watching your face contort as you orgasmed again. Grimmjow licked his lips before finally giving you what you wanted, "No girl of mine is gonna be working at some shitty ass job."

"G-Grimm-" You cried as he shoved his dick inside your gummy walls.

"It ain't right of a mafia's woman to be workin'. Yer gonna be stayin' home waitin' for me, waitin' for ma call."

"Y-Yes!"

"Good. Let's call em now."

        You arched your back as Grimmjow ruthlessly pounded your pussy. He reached for your phone, enjoying your moans getting louder as you squeezed his cock more. He called your job, smirking as your job answered.

"Go ahead. Quit." Grimmjow placed the phone by you, thrusting faster.

"A-Ah~ I-I....I....q-quit!" You cried out, reaching another orgasm. Grimmjow loved the look on your face, all cock drunk and fucked out of your mind.

"What do you mean you quit? The hell is that noise?" Your boss yelled. Grimmjow chuckled darkly as he filled you,

"Awe, looks like (Y/n) can't think anymore. She fuckin' quits." Grimmjow said as you became a moaning mess. He grabbed your phone, hanging up before returning to your fucked out expression, "Can't wait for tomorrow."

"G-Grimm~"

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

        When you finally came too and realized that you quit, you were a little mad at Grimmjow. You easily forgave him after he treated you to dinner and a deep fuck. You became his house wife, engulfing him with phone sex almost every day. Grimmjow kept saying that you were the one who liked it, but really...He was the one who loved it. Your sweet desperate cries for him just turned him on more. And he was sure to keep you wanting him.

[ztarvokwrites]

Dracule Mihawk - Actions Speak Volumes

a/n: yo yo yo! had this scenario in my head for a few days n decided to write abt it before i lose my train of thought haha! here u go <3

synopsis: it's only when you finally snap that he realises just how much you're hurting, thus he does everything he can to make it up to you.

reader is gn!

warnings: none, just angst, fluff, comfort, maybe a bit of sexual tension at the end if you squint hard enough.

word count: 1,626

Your actions as of recent have been nothing short of frustratingly annoying. After Mihawk returned from a 3-month escapade for only the best supplies for the Guild (he does not trust Buggy’s lackeys), you’ve been acting uncharacteristically cold towards him. Alvida knows what’s bothering you, yet refuses to tell him why you’re suddenly so ice cold, a harsh and bitter contrast to your warm and kind personality that he adored so much.

“You should already know that, seeing how you’re so perceptive of everything,” She says as he asks once again what your problem is. His eyes are on you as you silently help Cabaji set up some weapons in case they need to battle the Navy again. “But, if you can’t see they’re hurting because of you, you’re dumber than I thought.”

“And what exactly did I do to them, may I ask? All I did was go out for supplies,” Mihawk responds sharply, looking at the young woman beside him from the corner of his eye. Alvida looks at him, dumbfounded at the density of the former Warlord. She grunts, putting her hands on her hips.

“Yeah, for 3 whole months without telling them,” Exclaims the woman, brows furrowing as she looks towards you, arms folding over her chest again. “Honestly, I’m surprised they’re still with you considering how bad you’ve been treating them!”

This made his head snap towards her so fast that Alvida jolted back, eyes wide in fear. His golden eyes, usually cold and unfeeling, look surprised at her statement. Surely she’s bluffing, right? Mihawk can’t recall treating his partner poorly. Sure, they might’ve had a little argument here and there, but he was still devoted to them. 

“...What makes you think I am treating my beloved so poorly?” He asks, his cold voice holding an edge of offence to Alvida’s accusation.

“Well…” Alvida hesitates, voice weak for a moment before she continues speaking with confidence. “You haven’t been spending much time with them, your attitude towards them is just downright mean, you brush off their concerns like they’re a waste of time, and-”

“Alvida,” You interrupted, walking up to her with your arms folded. “Stop complaining, would you? Me venting to you when I’m drunk doesn’t permit you to go to Dracule about our relationship troubles. This is something between Dracule and I, so keep your nose out of it.”

Dracule.

You’ve never used his first name before, let alone with such… Unfathomable coldness. Mihawk stares — no, gawks at you, his stoic expression faltering slightly into one of pure confusion. Was what Alvida said true? When your eyes meet his, he watches as you narrow your gaze, a silent command for him to speak to you privately now that he knows too much. His gaze holds your own for a few seconds until you walk away. Following you, he tries to strike up a conversation, but you shoot his attempts down with a simple, “We’ll talk when we’re in private, so be quiet and follow me.”

And so, in uncomfortable silence, Mihawk follows you into your shared tent, staring at you with his arms crossed as you sit at the table. You speak first before he can even open his mouth, airing out your grievances and spilling your heart to the man, knowing he can shrug it off like before. You speak of the neglect as of late, how he has been nonchalant and uncaring towards you, how you’ve been feeling unloved by the man and how you’ve been constantly put aside now that you’ve all formed the Cross Guild.

And perhaps you’ve seen this coming — no, you have seen this coming; the way he deflects and tries to downplay how badly he’s been treating you because he simply refuses to believe it. Of course, this turns into an argument that eventually gets heated, as tears sting your eyes and threaten to spill down your cheeks. You’re practically screaming at this point, desperately trying to get him to see your point of view.

“For once in your life, Dracule,” There you go again, using his first name as if it were venom on your tongue. “Think about me! Think about us! Instead of your top priority being disappearing without a trace for months on end, making me worried sick about you — you should be prioritising what this relationship means to you because this means everything to me! You mean everything to me!”

Mihawk goes silent at your outburst, his arms unfolding and resting by his sides as his attention falls on you. He’s not focused on what he refuses to believe anymore, he’s only focused on you. Only you. It’s like his world stops once he sees your grief-stricken face, your tears finally escaping your tear ducts and caressing your cheeks as they drift down to your chin, your lips pulled into a tight frown. His face remains stoic as he listens, finally listens to you. 

Oh, how he wants to hold you in his arms and apologise, but he doesn’t. He just lets you yell at him and open his eyes to the truth… But you’re gone once you’re done speaking, you're pushing past him and walking out of the tent to get some well-deserved air. The former Warlord steps out of the tent, trying to see where you ran off to, but you are nowhere to be seen.

It’s then that he decides he’s going to make it up to you. He isn’t a fool, he knows he hasn’t been as affectionate as of late, and this argument has made him realise just how much he’ll lose if he loses you. Mihawk certainly doesn’t want to lose you, not after all you’ve been through together.

Throughout the day, he gives you your space but finds little things that remind him of you as he explores what Emptee Bluff’s Island has to offer. Whether it be flowers or your favourite drink in the town that’s opposite Buggy’s Town, he soon returns with three or four bags of gifts and groceries — ignoring the questioning looks on peoples’ faces as he casually carries the heavy bags to your shared tent with ease.

As the week progresses, he slowly starts giving you these gifts in secret, leaving them in your chair or your side of the bed in the morning. Whenever you’d see them, your heart would skip a beat and ache with confusion before a small blush would rise to your cheeks. You know he’s a man of few words, so you are glad he is acknowledging you like this.

Finally, the time comes for the perfect last gift — a romantic dinner under the stars, far away from the chaos of the Guild, even if it was just for an hour or two. You show up wearing your best outfit, a little nervous as it’s been a while since the argument and neither of you have properly talked since. It’s not hard to find the spot, as the candles on the grass illuminate the blanket that you find your partner patiently sitting on. A small pang in your heart strikes as he lifts his head, his golden eyes meeting your gaze and scanning over your outfit. 

You can almost see it, the way his eyes light up behind his cold exterior upon seeing you dressed up like this. Honestly, it makes you flustered the way he just stares at you before motioning you to come forward and take a seat beside him.

“...I thought I’d treat you to something special tonight,” Begins Mihawk, pouring you a glass of wine as you sit down beside him. With a small smile, you take the glass from him and have a sip. “...I’ve been thinking about what Alvida had exposed to me, and what you said during our latest quarrel about a week ago.” A lump forms in your throat as you swallow the sip of your drink, feeling dread fill your stomach. There’s a small silence that overtakes you both as you avoid his gaze, looking up at the stars as he looks at you with those piercing eyes.

“...I don’t want to lose you like I almost did before,” Mihawk continues, staring at you as he puts his drink down on the blanket, his hand gently touching your forearm. “So let me make it up to you. I’m sorry, I promise to never make you feel unloved ever again.” You avert your gaze from the stars, finally looking towards him with tears glistening in your eyes. The hand that rests on your forearm now caresses your cheek, wiping away a stray tear that dares to slide down your flushed skin with his calloused thumb.

“...You’re an asshole sometimes, Mihawk,” You respond, your tone slightly playful yet mixing with a twinge of hurt. “You don’t notice how much you hurt me until it’s too late, and you’re a man with so few words that it surprises me you argue back… But, somehow, you eventually find the right words to say and I come crawling back to you. But I’ve noticed that this time, it’s different. Your actions have spoken volumes louder than your voice has, and it…” You stop rambling once you take in the way he’s looking at you.

The way a small smile barely tugs at his stoic lips, the way his golden eyes soften and pupils dilate as he takes you in. You blush, yet he finds himself smiling just a little more, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek. The two of you find yourselves leaning in, and for a moment you think your lips are going to collide, but instead, Mihawk opens his mouth to say, “Would you like to see what I’ve prepared for this evening, my dear?”

starnote: i'm sleepy :)

dividers by @/ saradika!

[ficretus]

Gaslight masters

*during Volume 2*

Emerald: Aren't you worried about this psychological evaluation? On the account of us being...

Cinder: Oh please Emerald, this is a trivial matter. Only person who should be worried is Lionheart for not fabricating it for us.

Mercury: What's the matter Em? Afraid they are gonna dig up your mommy issues?

Emerald: Shut up Mercury. Still, what if they have some ways of digging through our psyche and...

Cinder: Emerald you are doing it again.

Emerald: Panicking?

Cinder: No. Thinking. Don't think, just repeat after me. Mask and deflect.

Emerald: Mask and deflect.

Cinder: Excellent. Do this every day and you'll be as proficient as me and Mercury in no time.

Mercury: We'll see about that.

Emerald: You are scared you'll never be able to match me.

Mercury: Not bad.

Cinder: Bravo, already making some progress.

Emerald: *smiling* Thank yo... *clears throat* Not that I care about your praise.

Cinder: Very good. Just mind your tone.

*door opens*

Ozpin: Miss Sustrai, you are next for psychological evaluation.

Emerald: Wish me luck.

Cinder: Sigh...

Mercury: It's still work in progress.

*1 hour later*

Ozpin: Now that I finished evaluating all three of you, I want to talk about something worrying with you.

Mercury: Em fucked up again, great.

Emerald: Me?!

Mercury: Who else. I wasn't the one that started crying for mommy half way through the session.

Ozpin: Oh, not Miss Sustrai. Longing for a maternal figure as an orphan is something completely normal. I wanna talk more with you Mister Black and Miss Fall. Miss Sustrai is free to go.

Cinder: Me? My interview was flawless.

Ozpin: Miss Fall, all you and Mister Black did was mask your feelings and constantly deflected.

Cinder: Oh please, vent your frustrations on your lackeys. Don't bother us.

Ozpin: I don't think so. For example, both you and Mister Black seem to have issues regarding paternal figures.

Mercury: Look whitey, just because your daddy didn't hug you doesn't mean rest of us have issues.

Ozpin: Yeah, this isn't working. I want to talk with your guardian.

Mercury: I see what this is, you wanna hook up with my mom. For shame...

Cinder: I don't see point of that.

Ozpin: But I do. Lets just say you are not leaving this room until I talk with them. Or perhaps do you want me to look into some other information, Miss Fall?

Cinder: Of course not. Here, take this number. That's our adoptive mother.

Mercury: *whispering* Are you crazy? He'll find out.

Cinder: *whispering* Relax moron. She is an expert.

Ozpin: Hello, this is Headmaster Ozpin from Beacon Academy. Is this Madam Fall-Black?

Salem: Of course not.

Ozpin: Can I speak with her?

Salem: I don't know, can you?

Ozpin: Sigh, Ma'am, are you Cinder's or Mercury's adoptive mother?

Salem: Mother? I suppose I am. How endearing.

Ozpin: I just wanna talk about their behavior. During the psychological evaluation all they did was endlessly mask their feelings and deflected everything I've said.

Salem: Oh my, how terrible. I'm so sorry you got offended.

Ozpin: This isn't about me. This is about the fact their way of communication is unhealthy.

Salem: Oh but it is about you. Always about you Ozma.

Ozpin: It's Ozpin. Look Ma'am, could you talk with them?

Salem: And tell them what? That there is a compulsive liar who gets offended by everything?

Ozpin: Ma'am, they need to be able to deal with their emotions and shortcomings. They can't mask them their entire life.

Salem: Hypocritical drivel. How did you raise your children?

Ozpin: For your information, I have a perfectly healthy relationship with my daughters!

Salem: I am sure you do. That's why only reason any of them would want to be in the same room as you is if they were comatose and on life support!

Ozpin: Wait what? Who is this?

*call ends*

Ozpin: *lights a cigarette* It's like I'm talking with my ex wife again. You two can go, can't deal with this shit anymore.

Cinder: *whispers to Mercury* Told you she still got it.

[okeydokeylackey]

little bit of a vent post. eugh.

[eatyoursparkout]

PREVIEW TIME!! I almost decided not to participate as a writer in this year's @tf-bigbang, but @cerebrocentric-bullet's art prompt was so inspiring I couldn't help myself ✨ Here are the first few paragraphs from the fic.

Tragic friendships, blood and violence, cameos from scary jerks like Stalker- this one's got a little bit of everything for the LSOTW fans out there. It focuses on two background characters from the comic, and their desperate attempts to survive in the wake of Overlord's takeover.

Take a peek at Radio's art preview here!

Full image text under the cut:

[You’re dead.

The thought rings loud in Spin-Out’s head, deafening in its certainty. The force of it nearly knocks him back, nearly locks his brakes up and sends him skidding across the hard terrain, but he catches himself just in time. A bright flash of panic, a brief, wobbling swerve, and then he’s gunning his engine again, back on course.

Stupid, he berates himself. He can’t afford to be sloppy, not with Overlord’s lackeys riding his tires, not even running on a half-dry tank, his overtaxed motor whining at him, his frame rattling under the strain of the chase. He can’t afford to be distracted, not if he wants to retain any chance at all of keeping his promise.

Survive. He repeats it like a mantra as he hurtles toward the rock formation in the distance, weather-beaten peaks jutting up from the earth like gnarled fingers. If he can reach it in time, maybe he can find a place to hide—a place to breathe, and regroup. He’s had no time to think since they’d shoved him out into the wastes and told him to run, vicious laughter trailing him like exhaust. No time to make any kind of plan, just the cold, sharp knowledge that he needs to keep moving at any cost.

The sun on Elba is weak, and casts everything in its sickly red glow. He’d never thought a sky could feel malicious until he’d been stationed here, but now the colour presses in on him, squeezing the air from his rapidly cycling vents until the dread nearly overwhelms him. Can Overlord see him, wherever he is? He’s up there somewhere, keeping watch, his optics blazing the same hateful crimson.

Survive.]

[lookismstuff]

Highlights of Ep 486

SPOILER ALERT

"I can't breathe. I can't breathe! Take me out of this darkness that has lost its light. I can't stop it anymore. It's swallowing me up. Save me from myself..." - SONDIA, Nightmare

Some time during the night, Vin let the girl in but his mind kept him awake, thinking that the shaman must've sent the girl to kill him.

In anger, Vin was thinking of kicking the girl out but was stopped by the sight of her tears in her sleep.

The next day, Vin met the Cheonliang fam and apologized, but they teased him saying they wanted the old (rude) him back. Vin was embarassed but he insisted that he really meant to apologize to them (and that he was thankful). And that from then on, he was a Cheonliang Fam member, and called Seongji "Master".

Seongji called Vin to help him with kimchi, which Vin thought as maybe Seongji's way to trick him. Jewoo explained that they were running out of side dishes, while casually asking about the girl who was hiding behind Vin.

The girl then helped Seongji with the kimchi, and Vin then told the Cheonliang Fam kids that she was a servant of the Cheon household. She specially served Taejin, and had since ran away.

Taejin seemed to have vented his frustration of losing Vin and Seongji on the Yakuza and the servants. So the girl ran away out of fear of being killed.

Jewoo realized that this means Taejin must've been even more furious and would want to find both Vin and the girl.

The girl announced that she was a perfect servant: good at cooking, doing laundry, and doing dishes, which made Taebong and the others felt both pitiful and uncomfortable about her presence there.

Jewoo asked whether they would send her back, and Vin retorted that she would die since Taejin would never save her life, as his errant property.

Then Mary chimed in that they should take the girl in, and the girl thanked her (mistakenly called her "bro" and got hit in the head). Jewoo teased Mary whether she made this decision because of her rice diet plan and she kicked him mercilessly.

Seongji decided that the girl must stay at Vin's place (to his shock) since it was Vin who took her in the first place, then he got inside his house and left the kids behind.

Seongji also told Vin that he'd better take responsibility for her, and Vin was struggling with it but eventually said yes, on condition that Seongji taught him how to fight.

Vin told Seongji that he had no power to protect anyone yet, so with the new strength he'd be able to protect someone. Seongji told Vin that it wouldn't be just ssireum that he taught, but the classes would be so hard and vomit-inducing, the way he himself learned it, but Vin was happy anyway.

Seongji then proceeded to lock his door, and inside, he was gasping for air in what seems like a panic attack. In a daze, the young king took some pills to ease the attack.

Jewoo, perceptive as ever, realized that something was wrong and went knocking on his Master's door. Seongji deflected Jewoo's concern and told him to go and not to come in. In sad understanding, Jewoo complied.

Meanwhile, Charles was confident that the Shinmyeong would relinquish Cheonliang land ownership to him to deflect treason accusation. But the shaman showed the Red Paper that he obtained from Seongji: the evidence of Charles' treason, allegedly worse than Shinmyeong's. Shinmyeong called up the Kojima brothers and the other Yakuza lackeys just as Charles moved to attack him.

But Charles still had another ace up his sleeve: Enter young Gun, with a taunting smile on his face, to the foray.

[rindragon-from-twewy]

Y'all never guess who the brainrot's been about today boiiiis-

Headcannon dump incoming; (spoilers for the ending) (I'm writing these from a post game perspective)

1: the most grandpa pyjamas you've ever seen. Wears his mask to sleep but wears one of those girlie-pop eyemasks with the big fake lashes over top so people know he's asleep (or at the very least, can't see)

2: Rollerskates round his penthouse to pass the time (occasionally), often blasting music through large stereos and his playlist is a terrible mix of classical orchestra and pop from between the 1970's-2010's

3: other hobbies include balloon crafts, card/magic tricks and decorating new masks <3

4: Ofc ik this one isn't real the way I drew it here but I like to think that he was sort of... cattle branded? With the 0001, a forever mark that he is the first and only 'successful' homunculus. Maybe I'd re-place it on the back of his neck? Since we never see there, canonically.

5: His favourite Pokemon is Mewtwo. He cried when he watched the first pokemon movie, balling at the "I see now that the circumstances of one's birth are irrelevant. It is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are". Like he called up Yuma right after fully sobbing about how "Mewtwo's just like me fr-" and then didn't shut up about it, so much so that Martina got him the shirt I drew him in

6: I feel like he wants friends but is just... deeply socially awkward. Now that all the secrets are out etc etc, he has no real reason to hide anymore but... there's just no real way for him to get out and socialize. It ends up with him considering Yomi's ex-lackeys to be the closest things he has to friends, since I like to believe they all work directly under him now.

7: Coming off number 6, I imagine him going to Yomi's jail cell to vent to him and then intentionally take the opposite of any advice Yomi gives him. This ultimately backfires as sometimes Yomi does actually give good advice simply in hopes it'll stop Makoto from coming back.

8: He doesn't actually know how to look after himself very well. Beyond keeping himself clean, that is. He has people clean his house and do all his cooking, he's got a decent sense of the value of money but doesn't really mind throwing his own saving's about on random whims. Does this mean he tries to buy people's friendships through gifts? Occasionally. Does it work? ...... sometimes!

9: Ok so I assume we're all in agreement that either Makoto or Yuma had to die their hair- I think it's safe to assume Yuma was the one to cut his hair short but I think maybe Makoto's the one to dye it. I think No.1 wouldn't have been dumb enough to go "I know, I'll dye my hair purple, nobody will notice the roots showing and come to the conclusion I erased my memory on perpous!" Cuz he's not that dumb- (I hope-) So, you may be asking. Why blonde? Cuz he's a barbie girl in a barbie world, obviously.

10: So I spent the whole time playing raincode like "Yuma's so kirigiri and naegi's kid or something-" And ofc I knew it'd stay a headcannon and not be real cannon but it's stuck. So yeah, Makoto named himself after who he remembered to be his father. I think, since Makoto wants to be a good person, he called himself after the good-est person he knew at the time.

This isn't all the rot but if u read all that then just know this is all eventually gunna be included in fanfics I plan to write-

I am a writer I promise I just don't have the movitation rn-

[dark-elf-writes]

Tsuna: you don’t have to call me God Reborn :)

Reborn: what have I created

Reborn: I have created my own eternal torment

Skull: I mean??? Yeah??? That’s what marriage is isn’t it???

Reborn: I refuse to marry a man that puts ketchup on pasta when he’s angry, lackey.

Skull: Yet. You refuse to marry a man that puts ketchup on pasta yet. The great Skull-sama’s got eyes Reborn.

Reborn pulling out a gun: I’ve suddenly thought of a way to vent all of my frustrations

Skull: Wait! Hold on! TSUNA!!!!