#let me know if this doesn't work! i left it a bit open for whichever of the girls you wanted to use!

[clickedbait]

After her stint with helping Mystery Inc, Coco was released on good behavior. Questionable ethics on what good would entail really, but what trouble could she really get up to in her solitary confinement. All she had were her journals, needles, and a sewing machine-- which was high privilege in a penitentiary, but she was Coco Diablo and she always got what she wanted. Or at least she used to.

It felt impossibly hard to return to the world of criminals after being released. Apparently after helping out those meddling kids and their dogs it was viewed as treason in the eyes of anyone looking to oppose or make a mark. But she needed to create, needed to work with her hands and the only place she felt she could do so with tack, class, and creativity? The music world. It's how she wound up backstage several months into working with the Hex Girls, hands currently sewing a slit in the dress of @divinetenebris, "The next time you want to galivant so freely across the stage in one of my masterpieces, do take into consideration where the band equipment is."

[theres-a-body-here]

Recieving a love letter

Part two

You decided that the best time to give it to them (pause) is during a trial

Characters: Oni, Trapper, Deathslinger, Mastermind, Cannibal, Ghostface Warnings: Internalized Homophobia, Death, some spice Male!reader

The Oni - Kazan Yamaoka

Impossible... You're both men

Kazan cannot accept this

This simply wasn't acceptable during his era

He immediately smashes your head in with his Kanabo on instinct

Gay panic defense

The evil has been dealt with, Kazan lets out a deep exhale

But...his eyes wander to the letter, still within your cold, stiff grasp

Advantages come from all angles... Don't they?

Kazan takes the letter, convincing himself he'll use whatever information he finds inside against you

It smells like you... Not that he checked

(He did)

A red wax seal holds the letter closed

Kazan looks closer

You had carved his family crest into the wax

Something foreign invades his body, something other than rage

It's nervousness

He opens the letter, making sure to keep the seal intact

For no reason in particular

(He's pocketing that mofo)

Instantly, he's impressed by your penmanship

So organized, clean, and sharp

But its contents are even more eye catching

The love letter is short and sweet

But what follows is even sweeter

A haiku

Kazan feels his heart skip a beat

He checks it once, then again, and one more for good measure

Yep, no mistakes

The loud pop of a gen echoes through the trialground, snapping him out of his trance

Kazan whips his head all around, looking for witnesses

Finding none, he pockets the letter

He stares at your lifeless body, feeling something else flutter in his chest

Guilt

The Trapper - Evan MacMillan

Evan stares at you as you hold your letter out for him to take

After a long, uncomfortable silence, he takes it

He brings it to his face, inspecting it through the holes of his mask

Evan has absolutely no idea what to do here

He looks back at you

"Do you...want me to fuck you?"

Romantic gestures are new territories for Evan, so he honestly thinks this is just your way of asking for dick

Whichever the case, he has a job to do

He puts you down without hesitation and hooks you up, leaving without a second glance

He's still holding the letter

Part of him wants to rip it up, and the other is curious to know what you wrote

He sloppily tears the letter open, reading it hastily as he walks to the next gen

Evan stops when he reads a bit more

You weren't asking for a ball slapping, eye watering, toe curling, deep dick fuck...

You were asking for his heart

You wanted all of him, hooks and all

Okay now he feels a bit bad

Evan reads some more

You actually drew a portrait of him within the letter, saying you learnt of his knack for art from Philip

Now he feels even worse

He lets the others save you without hiccup

In fact, he basically leaves for alone for the rest of the trial

He stops chasing and hurting the others occasionally to stare at you from afar, observing that focused look on your face as you work on gens or heal a teammate

Evan feels butterflies and he no longer has the strength to swat at them

It doesn't matter if he kills all your friends or if they opened the gates and left; Eventually, you're alone with him

He holds your letter out, watching as confusion sets on your face

"I'm dirty and sloppy... I'll ruin it"

He sounds vulnerable, waiting for you to respond

You curl your hand over his, folding the letter into his palm

"I want you to keep it," you say softly, as of talking to an apprehensive deer

He doesn't know what to say

Whatever he was going to respond with gets stuck in his throat as you lean in to kiss the cheek of his mask

He watches as you leave through the exit gate, glancing down at the letter in his hand

The Deathslinger - Caleb Quinn

Obviously you're joking... Right?

Cuz there's no way you'd be attracted to someone like him— Old, beat-up, and grumpy

You'd have to push him some more if you want him to accept the letter

Convince him you're being genuine

Eventually, he gives in and takes the letter from you

He glances around nervously, like he's expecting the other survivors to jump out and laugh at him for falling for the joke

He opens the letter, stunned when he sees there's actually things written inside

A blush creeps into his face as he reads, only deepening when he reads more

After he's done, Caleb can't even meet your gaze

After a few moments of silence, he speaks

"I can.....uhhh....keep this... right?"

Talk about awk as hell

Even after the trial, he lies awake thinking about it

Caleb rereads the letter over and over

You're gonna have to be the one to seek him out outside of trials since he's way too embarrassed now

"Yer serious 'bout this, ain'tcha?"

He decides to let his guard down just a bit to let you in

Be prepared to give him lots of reassurance

"Yer sure ya ain't mistaken?"

Caleb isn't one for words, so instead of writing you a letter, he makes you trinkets out of scrap metal

If you kiss him as thanks, he'll actually die on the spot

So please don't... unless you're evil as hell

The Mastermind - Albert Wesker

Wesker makes you kneel as you give him the letter

After snatching it out of your hands, he scans it meticulously

"I see you've made eleven spelling mistakes"

He enjoys the way you tense up instantly, like a puppy waiting to be put on punishment

"How adorable"

He ALLOWS you to watch him put the letter in his inner coat pocket

He would never admit it, but this certainly boosted his ego to new heights

Albert lifts you off the ground and tosses you over his shoulder

He carries you to the basement

"Stay here while I deal with your companions"

He leaves to kill the rest of your friends

After every hook, he pats his chest to make sure the letter is still there

He'll deny he ever did that if you ask him though

Once he returns, Wesker will bombard you with questions, expecting an answer within 5 seconds or less

What took you so long? What do you like most about him? Would you choose him over your friends? How can you satisfy him?

He loves how easily you crumble under his interrogation, blushing and stammering like a fool

Once he's had his fill, he picks you up again

He carries you to hatch

Before he lets you go, he grips your chin and makes you look at him

"I suppose I ought to leave you with something"

Wesker reaches into his coat and pulls out a pair of sunglasses

"I hope you can explain this to your allies," he chuckles

Before you can protest, he puts them on you and drops you into the hole

The Cannibal - Bubba Sawyer

Freezes in place and gasps when he sees you hold out your letter

He lets out a happy squeal before dropping his hammer and chainsaw to the ground

Bubba takes the letter from you gently, treating it like glass

He immediately plops onto the ground

He tears open the envelope carefully and take out the letter

He's completely forgotten about the trial

He reads the letter, shaking with excitement

It's sappy, sweet, and everything he's ever wanted

Even when the sounds of popping generators ring through the trial grounds, Bubba doesn't take his eyes off the letter for a second

He occasionally stops reading to either make a sound of happiness or cover his face out of embarrassment

Once he's finished, Bubba will stand up and pull you into a bone-crushing hug, lifting you up a bit and swaying you around like a ragdoll

You're definitely leaving this trial unharmed

He grabs your hand tightly, marching over to the hatch or exit gates and lets you leave with a goofy wave

The Entity doesn't even punish him for it since his joy was so great it made up for the lack of bad emotions from the survivors

He immediately works on writing a letter for you after the trial is over

The next time you see him, expect another bear hug followed by a letter being shoved in your face

It's messy, sticky, and covered in glitter

Crudely drawn hearts cover the inside as the letters are shaky and almost intelligible

But you can tell Bubba put his whole heart into it

The Ghostface - Danny Johnson

Instantly smug as hell

"Oh, what's that? That for me?"

He takes it from you and immediately tears it open, tossing the envelope behind him nonchalantly

His mask moves as he visibly reads through the letter, occasionally chuckling and shaking his head

Danny finds this scenario so fucking funny— A survivor having a crush on a killer

After he's done, he looks up at you

"Do you have daddy issues or something?'

He laughs loudly when he sees a hurt expression flash across your face, walking over to wrap an arm around your shoulders

"I'm just messing with ya, cutie"

Danny marches over with his head high to one of the hooked survivors, waving the letter in their face

You stand to the side awkwardly, unable to meet your friend's bewildered look

"Your homeboy is down bad for me. Whaddya think about that?"

The survivor grits their teeth struggling to keep the Entity's claw from puncturing their chest

"I think....Gah!...they.... have daddy issues...fuck!"

"THATS WHAT I SAID!"

You're never living this down

He goes around the map showing off your love letter to the others

After he finishes gloating, Danny hooks you

What? He's the Entity's favorite! He can't his reputation be tarnished

Outside of the trial, he follows you around like a shadow

He deadass interrupts your conversations with the others to tell you he wants attention, and you'd better deliver

Your love letter was basically an invitation for him to claim you as his own, whether you regret it or not

You're his now

Like a housecat that swats at others who get too close to their owner

"That kiss factory better be open, pookie"

He says shit like this in front of any survivor or killer

[wuwapetal1s]

write anything abt geshu lin or calcharo im begging on my hands and knees ill give u my first born or a kidney whichever u want

I don't need any organs can I have a pair of knees maybe (ty for the request anon :3)

Love languages

content: sfw, rambling-ish format, not entirely proofread (it's midnight currently), swearing used, etc.

reqs open!

— Calcharo.

Calcharo is an ‘acts of service man’ through and through. To me, he doesn't seem the best at giving affection verbally though he thinks he's *very* good at it personally. As in, you will ask him for comfort or reassurance and he'll give it to you readily… But it will sound so stern coming from him.

“I feel uncomfortable with [such and such]..��

“I understand. I will rectify/fix that.”

Communication KING, though I imagine it can still feel very intimidating to bring stuff up to him. It will always be met with understanding, and he certainly would try his hardest to accommodate what language/tone you'd rather hear in those moments (autistic.)

Getting back to the original point, he will do just about anything for you. There's hardly any limits or rules to that fact. He will kill for you, he will fight for you, he will get in trouble with the law for you, etc etc. He'll also grab extra of your snacks the moment he's back in town and stops at the market before he goes to visit you.

Tired from a long day at work or studying? He'll clean up as quietly as he can while you sleep. You'll wake up to all the dishes done and your living space looks pretty much spotless.

He's the kind of man to learn how you organize things pretty easily, even if you're a very messy person. He's very clued in on anything that involves you (smitten, much?) and he's also just got a keen eye on him.

"Ugh, I can't find where I left my-”

“Bottom drawer of the nightstand.”

“Oh.. Thank you!”

He loves holding and kissing you as well, it's his favorite thing to be welcomed home to. Just the ability to sink into your arms is like heaven to him. Receiving, he probably likes physical touch a lot more, but he feels 100x more satisfied doing something for you to show he cares :).

— Genshu Lin.

Genshu Lin is a possessive man. It's subtle, but it's definitely there. Above all else, he adores you. He's a deeply devoted person when in a relationship, though I don't feel like he's had a lot of experience to pinpoint that exactly, but it's his nature. I believe he enjoys gifting you things he gets his hands on, trinkets or otherwise.

He mostly enjoys giving you things you can make use of or wear. He always gets a warmth in his chest when he sees you in the bracelet he got you (one that matches his that he keeps tucked away for safekeeping) or using pens he gave you after you kept losing your last ones. As long as it works, suits you, and it means a lot to you, he's snatching it up.

I also believe he's a sucker for stealing kisses in private. He may not seem it to anyone else, but he's a softie. Just for you though. Cooking something or simply sitting around? Funny how his lips just found their way to your cheek!

He's a bit more apprehensive about receiving it unless it's the time you two lay in bed together, then he'd let you rub his back or play with his hair. In return, he most enjoys quality time.

Even if it's something as mundane as running an errand or having to pick something up from the pharmacy he wants you there. He'd tell you “I don't need your presence, I just prefer it” if questioned, but he does need it. More than he knows or even lets on, he wants you and needs you there. He hates having to be away from you. It drives him up a wall almost. Like nearly insane.

After long hours working or even days/weeks of it he wants nothing more than to just lay with you and bathe in your presence as if it's a balm for his soul :’).

I love these men they're so fine

[yeyinde]

I need to be railed by price as the team either walks past or is right next door. So upset he's fictional lmao

honestly, same. 

this got away from me a bit, so sorry about that!

warnings: smut, implied near-death experiences, voyeurism, and (??) exhibitionism

For being stationed out in the middle of Siberia, snowed into some long-forgotten gulag on the fringes of the great, inescapable arctic nothingness, the air you breathe has never been hotter. 

Balmy heat pulses, throbbing in tandem with each harsh thud of your heart as it snaps like a rubber band against your chest. 

It leaks in from the old pellet stove that Gaz managed to get working—somewhat—but the stifling heat that simmers around you, clinging your sweat-slicked skin has less to do with fire, and everything to do with the way your captain fills your cunt until you ache. 

"Fuck," he rasps, low and grating, words muffled into the flesh of your neck, when he presses the flat of his teeth. "So wet for me, love. So fucking tight—" 

All you can do is dig your nails into his flexing biceps, legs locked around his waist, heels clinging together at the base of his spine, as he fucks you senseless in the middle of a storm. 

(And with your teammates beyond the thin wisp of a wall.)

You're supposed to be quiet. 

Those are the rules you accepted when he first parted the folds of your pretty cunt with his middle and index finger, and pressed his nose against your throbbing clit, eyes sparking with firebrands when he gazed up at you. 

Quiet—because everyone is gathered in the room beside yours, and no one knows that your captain presses the head of his cock against this soft, fleshy place behind your belly button until you see Nirvana painted behind your eyelids like he's trying to fuck you stupid. To batter all logic out of your soft, sensitive head until only he, and the way he fits inside of you, remain. 

(And sometimes, you think he is.)

Quiet. Quiet. And yet—

They can all hear you, surely. You're not subtle, and you're not silent, despite the growls in your ears to keep it down, now, love, don't want them all to hear you getting fucked by your captain, do you? Filling your tight pussy with my cock—

How can you be when he pulled you into the empty, rotting cell with a fire in his gaze, and his hands rough on your skin, and said I need to feel you, love. I need to be inside of you. Need to keep you warm.

You try to stay quiet. Try to stifle the moans that spill from your lips with each blunt, brutal thrust of his cock slamming against the plug of your womb. It feels as if he was trying to wrench it open, trying to fit inside the only space left that you haven't felt him, that you hadn't taken him in. And maybe he is. Maybe, this is him trying to split you apart at the seams until you unravel for him; unspooled and raw, and all his, and—

It edges into pain, into hurt and anguish, but the pleasure numbs you into a babbling mess of fuck, captain, it feels so good, please please please—

His fat cock splits you apart until you're a babbling mess drooling into the matted, grimy mattress below, chanting nothing but his name amid the hymnals of pleasure that slip out, unmuffled, and loud. 

Stupid. Stupid. 

These sparse walls are barely thick enough to stifle a sniffle let alone the way you stutter over his name—P–Pr–i–ahhh—P–Pri–ce—with each sharp thrust of his cock battering your bruised, gummy walls. 

He doesn't even try to keep you quiet. Seems, in fact, to fuck you harder, aiming for whichever spot he hit inside of you that made you howl the loudest. Like it's a game. Like he wants them to hear. 

And you get it. You get why he's so broken, so stripped, and bare, and fucking you when he knows everyone can hear you, can hear the slick way your cunt opens for his cock; the fleshy slaps of his heavy sack hitting your ass with each deep, hard thrust. The ragged pants broken by your barely stifled moans, or his sharp, smoking grunts. 

You get it. You do—

A near miss. A wayward shot. 

Soap says you should be resting, that you should be recuperating until you all have to move out, have to abandon this safe haven in the middle of the frigid, white wasteland where nothing but withering black trees grow in sparse thickets and the temperature outside drops low enough to freeze the grey matter in your brain within seconds. 

It's scary. Daunting. 

But nothing at all compared to the anguish in his voice when he saw you in shades of blue, in red. Lifeless, and cold. So, so cold. 

It had taken them pushing you as close to the firepit as possible to bring some life back into your cheeks, and this—

This is all he knows how to do to keep you warm, to keep you from turning the same garish shade of deathly white, grey, as the world outside of these mouldering walls while you're stuck in a place that leaches it from your marrow; rapacious for heat in your body.

He fucks you like he's already lost you. Like you're already blue and grey and—

"Never again," he spits, words an angry snarl in your ear. "Never again—"

So, you let him take. Let him take, and take, and take because he never does. Never for himself. 

You offer yourself up to him—however he needs it—and try to stay within the margins of the rules despite the fact that you can feel him bludgeoning into you, further and further until you can feel him in your sternum. Until you can taste him in your throat. Until your lungs are full of sweat and blood and hickory and smoke, and—

"Fuck—"

You choke on the thick press of fingers when he slips them into your mouth, barking out a sharp bite when he pushes his other hand under the swell of your ass to glue your hips together. Closer, closer, but not enough for him despite the stars that erupt behind your eyelids, the too full too much feeling of him grinding against your bruised, battered walls, carving out a place inside of you just for him. 

"Gotta keep you warm," he hisses, pressing his damp chest to yours until the scant air is squeezed from your collapsing lungs, and all you can taste, and see, and feel is the graze of his coarse hair over your sensitive flesh when he smothers you under his bulk. "Gotta warm you up—"

They can all hear you. All of them. 

And maybe, maybe it's the delirium. The fever. The injury. The ever-present threat of that creeping white death that ghosts along the gaps in the doors, searching for a way in to claim the one that got away, snatched from the brink of icy death.

It must be. It has to be. 

But you think you can hear them, too. Under the heaving, desperate gasps in your ear, the broken commands uttered for you to stay quiet, and be good, and stay with him, stay with him, always, always, always, and the slap of his skin branding yours, you can hear it. Low murmurs. Movement. 

Gaz sucks in a breath when Price mutters look'it y'takin' me so fuckin' good; needy little cunt won't let g'of me. 

Soap groans low when you whimper around the thick, nicotine-stained fingers, nearly gagging, choking when he presses them to the back of your throat. 

You hear Ghost shift, the scratch of his denim sliding against the cracked cement when he moves from his spot when you moan low, and broken, and beg for it in a series of please please please pleasepleaseplea—that stick together each time he slides in deep. 

The noises from the other room all react to each whimper, moan, mewl, gasp that Price pulls from the depths of your chest as his cock splits you apart until your cunt is full of nothing but him. Until your head is heavy with pleasure, with the explosive chemical slurry of sex and tobacco and almost dying, and him, him—

It's maddening. Impossible.

It has to be in your head. It has to be because the idea, the absurd idea of it all is enough to make you tremble, to make the molten knot in your belly coil, and coil, and—

Price drops his sweat-slicked forehead to your temple, lips brushing against your ear. 

"Puttin' on a nice li'show for them, love. Almost makes me think you want them to hear," he murmurs, words rasped out in a whisper. Just for you. Just for you. "I must not be enough to keep y'warm, then. Must need some extra body heat, mm?"

(You hear Soap grunt, the noise a tucked plea of Captain, and of something that sounds like a broken amalgamation of your name, and fuck, and please, and—

And all at once, the rules break. Shatter.)

[fuckitupfelix]

hai… its me again BUT I HAVE ANOTHER SCENARIO IDEA ALSO IMMSORRY AHOUT MY OTHER ASK AUGHH IT WAS RIGHT IN UR RULES DUDE BUT BUT MY IDEA IS SCENARIO OF WHICHEVER HQ CHARACTER OF UR CHOOSING WITH AN S/O WHO HAS REALLY BAD MUSCLE STRAIN FROM PRACTISING VOLLEYBALL BUT REFUSE TO REST AND GAGAGAGA :3

DONT WORRY ABOUT IT BRO ITS ALL GOOD!!! IM GONNA COOK WITH THIS ONE TO MAKE UP FOR IT 🙏🙏 actually writing now hope this doesn't turn out bad..

hit it til it breaks...?

iwaizumi hajime x male reader

word count: 1k

iwaizumi's noticed that his boyfriend, seijoh's libero, hasn't been doing his best.

FEM ALIGNED DNI

iwaizumi has seen what pushing yourself past your limits can do to you. he's seen how oikawa always strived to be the best he could, sometimes pushing himself beyond exhaustion. it takes a huge toll on your body, so iwa promised himself he'd take care of himself, and it's not exactly a secret. he pushed everyone to do the same.

so it surprised iwaizumi when he noticed (name) acting different in the past few weeks. they were all very subtle changes; he would buy coffee in the morning more often, was a bit slower with receives, and a little more tired than he usually used to be.

he was pushing himself.

that's what iwaizumi thought initially. he's seen the signs in oikawa enough times to know the aftermath of straining yourself and making your body work overtime. he decides to wait a bit, see if (name) would mention anything by himself. he didn't.

"iwaaaa," (name) called, leaning over iwaizumi's desk. "can i borrow your homework answers?"

iwaizumi raised an eyebrow at that. "you didn't get time finish it last night?" he asked, pulling out the papers. he noticed his boyfriend's hesitation before he took the papers.

"nah, only got through half of it before i went to bed. my mom had me run errands after school. y'know, groceries 'n stuff." (name) said causally. he hunched over iwaizumi's desk to quickly write down the rest of his answers before passing the worksheets back to him. "thanks!"

"yeah, no problem. . . by the way—" but (name) had left before he could ask his question.

later that day, during practice, the team was doing a spiking drill. (name)'s receives were all flawless, but iwaizumi noticed the slight stiffness of his movements. how he grit his teeth for a spike that wasn't particularly hard to get. how his feet left the ground half a second too late. how his breathing grew ragged faster than usual.

'maybe im overthinking things,' and so he shook the thoughts away. he's used to having to deal with oikawa's bullshit. maybe its made him paranoid.

he went to spike, moving fluidly. the ball went a bit of a distance away from (name)'s direction— almost halfway across the court— but he still went for it. that's when it happened.

(name) reached, pushing himself to make contact with the ball, willing himself to. and he did. he sent it up nicely— a beautiful arc straight to the net. but his body had already exhausted itself. it was too much. his face contorted in pain as he felt his leg spasm. his body slammed against the floor, his shoulder connecting with the wood panels in an odd way. his body tumbled over itself like a ragdoll. (name) just laid there.

iwaizumi darted over to (name), eyes blown wide with panic. as gently as he could, he grabbed his shoulders, lifting him up. his grip was still tight.

"(name)? (name), are you okay?" he asked, sweat dripping from his forehead onto (name).

(name)'s eyes opened, face morphing into a frown. "yeah, shit. . . sorry," he mumbled. he tried to push himself to stand, but let out a sharp groan, falling back down to the floor.

the sound of shoes squeaking against the gym floors was faded as (name) and iwaizumi sat together in the club room. (name)'s leg was propped up on one of the chairs.

'how did this happen?'

sure, (name) was pushing himself more than usual, but that was because the inter-high preliminaries were right around the corner! he had to do his best so the team could go to nationals!

"hey." iwaizumi's voice drew (name) out of his thoughts. ". . . why didn't you stop?" he asked.

". . .what?"

"you were pushing yourself too hard, your body couldn't keep up, and now you can barely move your legs. why didn't you take a break?"

(name) tensed up at iwa's words. he frowned. "because i needed to do better. i needed more practice. i need to be better—"

"is this really better to you?" iwaizumi cut him off. (name) flinched at the volume. iwaizumi was pissed. "seriously, tell me. do you think pushing yourself this far helping anyone? we all need practice, but without breaks, you're doing more harm than good!"

"i know that!" (name) snaps. he glared down at the floor. his head was spinning and his legs were throbbing and he could feel his face grow hot, tears brimming in his eyes.

"i know it was stupid, i know i should have paid attention, i'm sorry. i just wanted us to do better! i wanted us to win." (name) managed. god, he knew he sounded pathetic, the way his throat closed up on him, making him sound all whiney. he rubbed the tears away with the back of his hands, his face scrunched up.

iwaizumi wasn't expecting that. he walks over, sitting next to his boyfriend. he wraps an arm around his shoulder, bringing (name) in to rest his head on his chest.

"hey, hey, it's okay," iwaizumi mumbled. he wasn't great at comforting people. he ran his hand along (name)'s back, rubbing circles. "c'mon. can you stand properly? i'm taking you home."

"what? come on, iwa, just give me a minute, i-i can make it for the rest of practice—"

"(name)." iwaizumi said sternly. "what you need is rest. you don't need to overexert your body anymore. and, you're banned from any type of practice until you get better." he adds.

"what?" (name) sputtered. "that's not fair!"

"of course it is, dumbass!" iwaizumi huffed, crossing his arms. "if you try to play volleyball injured, it'll get worse and take longer to heal. seriously. i don't like seeing you hurt," he adds, quieter that time.

a small smile grew on (name)'s face at that. "fine, but only cause i don't want you worrying," he chuckled. he leaned over to plant a small kiss on iwaizumi's cheek.

". . . okay, now help me up? please?"

AAAAJFHHH i hope that was okay (⁠>⁠▂⁠<⁠)!!! it was kind of angsty idk if you wanted that. . . lmk if i need to fix anything!!! requests are still open btw!!

divider by @/plutism !!

[i4bellingham]

ATTENTION: pablo gavi x reader

SYNOPSIS: in you're stumped with school works and gavi just wants you to spare him some time for cuddles.

NOTE: my first ever gavi fic hooray! *pops confetti* i literally wrote this instead of fixating my time to do my school works but i realized that school works doesn't give me a peace of mind unlike writing fanfiction does so of course i’d rather be here than do my school stuff-

If he could burn the pile of folders and papers stacked on your study table, Gavi definitely would.

But since he knows that it's important that you finish them and submit those papers to whichever nuisance gave them to you in the very first place, Gavi simply scoffed, pouted his lips, crossed his arms over his chest before the door closed right in front of his face.

You literally closed the door in front of him when he's sulking because hey! He can behave himself when you're studyingㅡ or doing those god forsaken school works.

You didn't have to shut him out, but you did. And that made the 18 year old frown even more before walking away, deciding to stay in the living room instead.

On the other hand, you began filing the papers that were due at an earlier date, placing them to your right and separating the rest to the left.

It was such a pain in the ass but you needed to graduate, at least one between you and Gavi needs to finish their studies for the sake of your future, your own future. And it's immediately concluded that it'd be you, seeing as how much Gavi already flourishes in his sport.

And you wanted to make a name for yourselfㅡ not wanting to be known simply as Gavi’s significant other when you know you can pave a way for your own success, hence why you're trying your best in college.

You are aware of Gavi's current disposition after you slammed the door shut in front of his face.

He had the tendency to be a tad bit overdramatic, clingy and just borderline possessive of your time and attention. He wants all of it to be directed to him but after a few months of competing with your resolute drive to do well in your studies, he had to make the adjustments in himself.

And as much as it pains him, he's actually very proud that you're steering your path to where you want it to. No matter if he has to fight inanimate papers for you to pay a semblance of attention to him, Gavi is happy and proud of you, knowing well that college in general wasn't an easy path to take and you're diving into it with determination and confidence.

Sighing, you began flipping through your tasks, wanting to finish a good portion of it just as much as you boyfriend.

-

It wasn’t until 4 hours later since you've started, already managing to finish 5 activities and 2 drafts for your literary essays when your phone pinged.

-

from: gavi 💛

around what time are you gonna pay attention to me?

-

You snort, pausing from stapling your papers as you lean back on your chair. You began typing your reply.

-

to: gavi 💛

i literally just talked to you not even 20 minutes ago when you brought me food

-

from: gavi 💛

SO?????

-

You chuckle, picturing him rolling his eyes at your response.

-

to: gavi 💛

just how much attention do you need pablo? 🙄

from: gavi 💛

ALL OF IT??? IS THAT EVEN A QUESTION

-

You shake your head, closing your phone before pocketing it and then turning the lights to your desk lamp off.

You stretched your body for a few minutes, releasing a groan when you hear your joints cracking before walking over to the door, twisting the knob open and letting yourself out.

Gavi was lying down on the sofa when you reached the living room, feet on the back rest with his head hanging at the edge of the seat.

“You’ll get dizzy when you stay in that position for much longer Gavi.”

Gavi turns his head to you with a sigh. “You were gone for hours.”

“Well I'm here now aren't I?” You pat his cheek, moving to sit down next to him.

Gavi lays his head on your lap, throwing his phone on the coffee table before wrapping an arm around your waist.

“I was bored.” You can almost hear the pout in his voice as he close his eyes, nuzzling his face on your stomach as you began running your fingers through his hair.

“When are you ever not bored?”

“When you're with me.” He immediately replies. “I don’t get bored when you're with me.”

You roll your eyes playfully, throwing your head back against the soft cushion. “What do you peg me for? A comedian? A clown?”

“A nice company.” He tilts his head, chuckling at the way your mouth went agape at his answer.

You clear your throat before flicking his forehead.

“You’re such a smooth talker aren't you?”

Gavi grabs your free hand, kissing each knuckles before placing it over his cheeks.

“Just with you...”

You don't say anything, you don't comment on how red his own cheeks had gotten. He doesn't say add anything too.

Gavi pats the space beside him, silently asking you to lay with him and you silently do. He reaches a hand out to brush away the stray hair that fell on your face, letting you adjust yourself comfortably beside him with your head now over his chest.

Gavi wraps an arm around you, entangling your feet together before he leans down to kiss your forehead while rubbing slow circles on your back.

The two of you don’t say anything for a while, letting the silence prevail as you bask in the company of the otherㅡ Gavi's need for attention finally solved.

[ghostlycomputerartisan]

That Was Unexpected Pt.3

This Was Unexpected Pt.3 (Polyamorous Relationship with Shota Aizawa and Hizashi Yamada)Reader is Female and uses she/her pronouns

Let me just explain something I was just thinking about so that I hopefully don't confuse you or myself anymore. The first part of this series I'm going to say took place on a 3 day weekend, so it was a Friday and UA had the day off. For part two, since I said a few days later, that it's going to be Monday, and it was after school hours that you all had gone to the doctors and checked out houses! :D I'm bad at thinking about logistics...

!!!WARNING: EMETOPHOBIA (the actual act of vomiting), Seasonal depression (Is that even a warning? Couldn't anything be a warning???), language, implied sexual themes

Word Count: 1608

Your eyes wander over towards the sliver of light that spread across your bedroom from the window with almost completely closed curtains. It was December now, and you noticed snow falling from the sky. Winter has made it's appearance once again. You and Shota both had always been saddened by the colder weather. It felt very depressing and made you want to lay in bed snuggling even more.

You laid still between your two boys, legs are tangled with each other, arms over your body. You knew you'd have to get up soon with the twisting feeling in your gut. You groaned quietly, careful not to wake up your lovers, as they had work today. You did too, you needed to go into your agency but you didn't need to until a bit later after your partners had been gone for awhile. You try to ignore the sick feeling, instead curling up closer to whichever lover your facing, which doesn't last long before your turning over trying to get more comfortable.

Before long, you quit denying the inevitable and decided to get up instead, trying not to wake up either of the boys. Which was also inevitable, because Shota had never been a very heavy sleeper like Hizashi had. You headed towards the bathroom, trying to be as quiet as possible, closing the door quietly and setting down a step stool in front of the toilet to sit on while you waited. You sighed, setting your elbow on your knee and resting your head on your hand, closing your eyes while you sat there.

There was a chance you wouldn't even throw up and that it was just going to be a stomach ache that lasted for what felt like forever. You were knocked out of your daze by a light tapping on the door.

"Y/n?" a deep sleepy voice whispered.

"Hmm? D'you need the restroom?"

"Mhm, I'll go to the other one though"

"Mk"

There was slight shuffling on the opposite side of the door until it once again fell silent. A wave of strong nausea hit you suddenly, causing you to groan quietly and squeeze your eyes shut. There was another light knock on the door, probably Shota again.

"Baby?"

"Mhm?"

"D'ya need anything?"

"I don' know"

"Can I come in?"

You hummed, and the door quietly opened and closed again. Your eyes remained closed as you felt him shuffle behind you and sit on the edge of the bath tub. He rested his forehead on your upper back, gently rubbing your back with one of his hands, the other arm resting on his knee.

"You should go back to bed, you have work in an hour" you muttered, groaning again as another wave hits you.

"I'll be 'kay," he mumbled. "I don't wan' leave you by yourself."

You don't know how long the two of you sat there, 10? 20 minutes? But soon enough, you were leaning further forward over the toilet, gags escaping your throat. You choked for a second, trying to breathe.

"Shh, you're stressin', calm remember"

You nodded, bile rising in your throat and flowing past your lips. Shota pulled your hair back, still rubbing your back with the other hand. Soon enough, it stopped and you were left panting as tears rolled down your cheeks. Your lover pulled away from you, grabbing some toilet paper to wipe you mouth off with.

"I don' wan' be sick anymore," you cried quietly.

"I know honey" he murmured back, throwing the piece of toilet paper in the toilet and flushing it. "Think your done for righ' now?"

You nodded as he wiped the leftover tears off your face. "Come 'ere," he spoke, reaching his hand out to you. You took it and he helped you up. You brushed your teeth while he leaned against the door, his eyes closed as he rested his head against the door frame. When you finished, you stretched a bit. Aizawa looked at you sympathetically, noticing the tired look in your eyes. He pulled you closer, lifting you up and holding you like a kid with your legs on either side of him, head resting in the crook of his neck and arms holding on tightly.

"Wan' go back to bed?"

You nodded against his shoulder, eyes drooping with sleepiness, "stay home from work?" you asked.

"As tempting as that is, you know I can't. I will cuddle you till you fall asleep though."

You lightly kissed his neck as he took you back to bed. As the two of you laid back in bed, you laying on top of him. When the two of you got comfortable, Shota reached towards Hizashi and pulled him closer to the two of you, waking the latter slightly.

"What time is it?" He mumbled.

"6:30ish" Shota mumbled.

Hizashi hummed, pulling himself as close as he could to the two of you, cuddling you two close. His leg hiked up under yours but on top of Shota's. Shota sighed, his hand finding its way into your hair, his head turning to kiss Hizashi's forehead. You knew he couldn't go back to sleep. That's just how he worked, when he woke up, he was up for good! No chances of being able to fall asleep again. You felt Hizashi's hands worm their way over your hip and gently rubbing your ass. You felt him squeeze your ass, and decided to get revenge. Your hand now inching towards his ass you hold him by the waist, doing the little thumb thing before sliding it down and squeezing firmly. He gasped from the sudden shock and whined as you giggled a little bit.

"Really Hizashi?" Shota mumbled, turning his head to look at the blonde.

"I'm sorry!! I can't help it!" his sleepiness slowly fading

"I'm not helping you this time." 

"Not fair!!! Y/n? What about you" he pouted.

"mm-mm!!"

"But babe!!"

"Nuh-uh!! Doing that is what caused me to be vomiting at 6 in the morning when I could've been sleeping!!"

He whined, laying back down and deciding he'd rather cuddle with his lovers than get up. Eventually you fell asleep, waking up much later around 930. The bed was empty and the apartment quiet which was always kind of depressing. Especially in the winter. You picked up your phone, immediately turning down the brightness of the screen. You saw a message from each of your lovers.

You read each of them, smiling and responding before getting out of bed, heading for the breakfast Shota said he left on the counter for you. You sat in silence as you ate, trying to ignore the weather you'd have to endure when you left for work. But as always, time came when you had to leave. Of course you wished it never came, especially when just a few hours from now, your lovers would be home and able to relax or do something with you. But you had to. 

You got ready and left the house, giving your cat one last scratch behind the ear before heading out the door. You sighed, a cloud of fog from your breath rose and you headed towards your car, turning on the heat till you were willing to leave the building. Nothing really happened while you were at your agency. You weren't needed on any missions. It was fairly radio silent. But your energy was still drained after you were stuck doing paperwork that you needed to finish from your last mission. 

When you got back to the apartments, you found Shota, laying across the couch with wet hair and a furry friend and Hizashi was nowhere to be found. You sighed as you closed the door dropping your bag to the ground, kicking off your shoes, leaving them strewn across the small hall and your coat, gloves and scarf thrown off to the side. You walked up to Shota, giving him a kiss on the lips. You adjusted so you were facing him better and kissed him more passionately, wanting the attention. 

"Bad day?" he questioned.

You shook your head no, mumbling, "no, just boring... did paperwork the whole time."

He chuckled under his breath, giving you a final kiss on the lips before you stood up and stretched, "I need a shower."

"Hizashi's in there now, could go join him but ya'know how that could turn out."

"Fair, but right now I may be willing to take the chance."

You headed towards the bathroom Hizashi was in and walked in, stripping off all your clothes. You all usually walk into the bathroom anytime the others are showering because for the most part you didn't mind. They respected more of your boundaries than anything, knocking before coming in most of the time. Once you were naked, you got in the shower with him.

"Woah! Hey sexy, when'd you get here?" he flirted, raising his eyebrows at you.

You giggled a little, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him in for some soft kisses. 

"Babe!" he whined.

You smirked, "I guess I can help you out this time."

[bella-rose29]

Reminders of her - George Karim x gn!reader

requested by anon: George Karim x reader (established relationship) where one of the Visitors they have to seal is the reader’s dead mom or sister or father (whichever you want)

I am so so sorry that this has taken me forever to write, I have been swamped with assignments and work and then a period of no imagination whatsoever, so I'm very sorry about that anon! I also had no clue how to end it so sorry about that too

I tried to make this gn (since no gender was specified), but there may be a slip up or two so I'm sorry if there is <3

Hopefully this is roughly what you wanted anon!

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: mentions of character death (reader's mother) and dealing with grief, mentions of cancer (non-specific, but it's not aggressive).

Tag list: idk who wants to be tagged for George tbh (let me know if you do!) <3

(not my gif)

The inhabitants of 35 Portland Row were all relaxing in their various rooms when the doorbell sounded, startling everyone.

Lockwood hurried to the door, trying his best to not look too disgruntled in front of a possible client, but when he pulled the door open to see Y/n he gave up trying to rub the tea stain off the bottom of his shirt.

"Oh, hi. Everything alright?" They didn't say anything, head dipped so that Lockwood couldn't see their face, but when he heard the slight sniffles coming from Y/n he ushered them inside, immediately calling for George. Lockwood wasn't the best at dealing with people crying, and he'd had to learn for his job, but given Y/n was George's partner he figured he had a free pass this time. The boy in question came thundering down the stairs barely a minute later, pulling his jeans all the way up as he did so and fastening his belt before bringing Y/n into a crushing hug. Lucy appeared at the top of the stairs, peering at the scene in front of her, and when she saw her best friend crying she hurried into the kitchen to start making tea. Lockwood was left to stand awkwardly to the side, hands stuffed in his pockets while George comforted his partner.

"What's wrong, Y/n/n?" George asked, pulling back slightly to wipe away their tears. They sniffled a little bit, small sobs still breaking through as their chest heaved, trying to get the words out.

"It's- it's my mum," they broke off into tears again, hiding their face in George's t-shirt. "She- she's, uh... I need your help," they finished in a whisper, turning to look at Lockwood, and suddenly everything made sense.

"Where is she?" Lockwood asked softly, making eye contact with George. The two boys led Y/n into the kitchen, sitting them down at the table and providing a plate of biscuits (George was a compete hypocrite about the biscuit rule when it came to his partner). Lucy brought over a cup of tea, placing it down in front of Y/n with a small smile.

"Sort of just... everywhere. In the whole house. I don't know why she's only just turning up now, she's been dead for eight months."

"It doesn't always make sense," George said, pushing his glasses up. "We can come over tonight if you like, right Lockwood?"

The company head nodded, sympathetic smile on his face when Y/n looked his way, and Lucy murmured her agreement.

"That's decided then. We'll come over tonight and try and put her to rest completely, yeah?" Lockwood declared, and Y/n nodded, wiping the last of their tears away.

"Yeah, alright. Thank you."

~~~

That night, just before sunset, the four of them headed over to Y/n's house (the members of Lockwood and Co had refused to let them go back, insisting that they stayed until they were properly cheered up), kit bags slung over shoulders and rapiers at their hips. Y/n went without, having barely any Talent, clutching the silver rod that George had gifted them as a defence. Lucy and Lockwood strode ahead, George hanging back with Y/n as they dawdled.

"You alright?"

"I don't really know. I mean, she died of cancer, so that shouldn't really mean that she comes back as a Visitor, right? She died in her sleep, peacefully, and spent her last couple of months seemingly happy."

George was quiet for a while, debating what to say. He often had a habit of putting his foot in it, being the socially awkward person that he was, and dating Y/n had meant that he'd found himself thinking before he spoke much more. At first, he'd barely spoken to them when it was just the two of them, being too scared that he'd say something wrong and never see them again, but when they'd admitted that his blunt attitude was one of the things they most adored about him, he'd opened up more. Still, in situations like this a little thinking was required, especially since his partner's dead mother coming back as a ghost was the topic of conversation.

"Generally, Visitors seem to come back for unfinished business. Maybe she just wants to say good bye?"

"She had months for that though." Y/n was worrying their bottom lip in their teeth, a habit that had become more frequent since their mother's death.

"I really don't know, Y/n/n. Once we're there, though, I'm sure I will," he said, offering a small smile as they turned down their street. Y/n tried a smile of their own, but the worry was still there, growing with every step closer to their house the agents got.

"Come on you two, we're losing time!" Lockwood called, and George rolled his eyes.

"Ignore him. Those two can do without us for a bit if they need to. You alright? You're looking a bit pale."

"I- I'm fine, Georgie. I'm just... not really looking forward to this."

"I get it. Hey," he called, brushing his hand against Y/n's. "We'll sort it, yeah?" He linked their hands, and Y/n smiled properly, the action lighting up their face.

"Yeah. Thank you, George," they replied earnestly, planting a kiss on his cheek.

~~~

Y/n was worried.

It had been an hour since Lockwood, Lucy and George had set up, and while Y/n stayed in the kitchen, surrounded by the defences and armed with the silver that George had handed over earlier ("Just in case," he'd said, no hint of humour in his expression), the three agents had been eerily silent. They'd heard the creak of an occasional floorboard, and a whisper of voices from the living, but aside from that anybody observing the situation would think that Y/n was alone in the house.

They had zoned out a few minutes ago, getting bored of standing and waiting with nothing to do, when suddenly a figure appeared in the doorway.

"Mum?"

Their voice was shaking, damn it. Y/n had promised that they wouldn't get too scared, but the possibility of seeing their mother (and the further chance that their mother would try and attack them) was terrifying.

The figure crept closer, glowing faintly, and Y/n held their breath. It stopped just inside the doorway, and distantly Y/n heard themselves calling for George. Everything else was a haze. Time seemed to stop as the two of them observed each other, and while Y/n could feel a chill creeping up, the warmth they felt at seeing their mother's face again made it seem insubstantial. The trance was broken when Y/n was shoved to the floor, George landing on top as Lockwood and Lucy fought back against the now violent ghost of Y/n's mother.

"Are you alright? Y/n? Y/N?"

"Stop shouting! I'm fine," they huffed, unsure why George seemed so panicked.

"You were very nearly permanently ghost-locked, idiot!" Y/n's eyes widened.

"W-what? But I was fine! I didn't- I didn't think I was there for that long, was I?"

"Maybe, maybe not, but when we came in you were glazing over. I tried calling out to you but you weren't responding."

"Oh, so that's why you rugby tackled me to the floor." George leapt into action again at that, pushing up and offering a hand out to Y/n. Lockwood and Lucy had found the Source, and now the agency head stood with a small object wrapped in a silver net. "Is that... is that her?" Lockwood nodded.

"A comb, of all things. Luce says it was her favourite?"

"The one with the fake pearls in it?" Y/n asked, unable to tear their eyes off of the object.

"Yeah, looked like it. She um, she showed me something else," Lucy spoke, a little tentative. Y/n gestured for Lucy to continue, and the girl lead the two of them upstairs to their parents' bedroom. "There was a moment when she uh, she pointed to this drawer. There was a letter inside, addressed to you. I think she wrote it for you, and wanted you to have it. Did you know about it?"

Y/n shook their head. "No. I had no idea." Carefully they opened the drawer and lifted out the envelope inside, trying desperately to hold back the tears at seeing their mother's handwriting.

"Do you... do you wanna read it now? Because I can give you some space if you do," Lucy asked gently, placing a hand on Y/n's shoulder.

"Please, thanks Lucy." The girl wrapped them in a hug, tight and crushing, and when she pulled away she wiped the tears off of Y/n's cheeks.

"We'll be in the kitchen if you need anything, alright?" Y/n nodded, sitting down on the bed when Lucy had shut the door behind her with a soft click and opening the letter.

~~~

A short while later a knock sounded on the door, and George's messy curls poked in, followed by the rest of his body. "Hey, how are you doing?" He came over and sat down next to them, placing an arm around their shoulders and bringing them in for a slightly awkward hug.

"I'm okay. I think," Y/n frowned.

"What... what did the letter say?"

"Just about how much she loves me, and how proud she is of me. It's funny, it doesn't feel like she's gone a lot of the time, but every now and then I'll see something that makes me think of her and I just... I have to stop myself from breaking down." They paused for a moment. "The paper smells like her. It's nice to have this, as a reminder of her."

George didn't say anything, instead just stroking their back, and they were glad for the comfort. He might have a tendency to say the wrong thing sometimes, or accidentally offend people, but George was a damn good partner, and Y/n was glad that he was there to help them.

The two of them headed downstairs a few minutes later, finding Lockwood and Lucy arguing about what the best kind of biscuit was over cups of freshly made tea. George joined the argument, gesturing wildly as he fought for his biscuit of choice, and Y/n could only chuckle slightly at their partner's antics. They gladly accepted the mug of tea that Lucy pushed their way, and smiled at the three agents gathered in their kitchen.

Their mother might be gone, leaving a hole in Y/n's heart, but these three people in front of them were just what was needed to fill it.

[justplainwhump]

Seat 2B

Dany faces Geoff.

Next installment of @wildfaewhump and I's Just A Fling AU. The perfect Geoff, Peyton and their mentioned friends are Vic's characters and they penned a lot of this piece.

[Just A Fling Masterlist]

Content / warnings: Intimate whumper, whumpee meeting whumper in public, past trauma and not ideal coping with it, mentioned serial killings, mention past noncon drugging and assault, sexually derogative language, mention of BBU-pets; pretty frank discussion of past noncon.

2B is Dany's favorite seat on most long distance flights. Best class available, be it First or Business or whichever names they came up with. Aisle, meaning she can get out without the need to talk to anyone. Second row instead of first so there's a bit more air in front of her instead of a wall. 

She's gotten it for this flight as well, the way home after some intense days of preparing and ensuring the final acceptance of their newest freight terminal. It's been a success. Another one. Dany is good at her job, and she knows it. 

She leans back in her plane seat and opens her laptop to check on the press release the company is about to send out, tuning out the busy noise of the last passengers boarding and filing to the back of the plane.

"Excuse me, Madam" someone next to her says, half bored. "I'm 2A."

She's not sure if its his voice that sets her off, the smell of his cologne, or his looming figure, some inches too close to be entirely polite, but her whole body is on alert suddenly.

Geoff Cortlandt.

"Oh. Ms Hammond," he says, eyebrows up. "Hadn't recognized you, fully dressed."

Dany's hand, halfway to the tray table, freezes mid-air. Geoff's gaze feels heavy on her skin. Even without looking up, the smug amusement radiating from him is almost palpable.

She sets her jaw and reaches out to pick up her laptop and slide back the tray table to let him pass. "Mr Cortlandt." 

"Just kidding," he whispers, as he squeezes past, too close for the amount of legroom the plane offers, and pauses, his mouth next to her ear. "You were not actually memorable undressed, either."

"Peyton saw that differently." It slips out, before she can think twice, her voice perfectly even. She's taken seminars on it, on her way to becoming the negotiator she is today - quick comebacks, how to deal with low blows. 

Paying back in turn ranks very low on the list.

And it is downright stupid, when it's about the exact thing Peyton's tried to warn her about in his very own, very inappropriate manner. 'We were getting pretty close. And I was… distracted by you. In a way that wasn’t working for Geoff.'

Geoff freezes for a moment, and she thinks she sees a muscle in his jaw twitch, before he breaks into an easy smile. "Well, he's luckily left that behind him now, didn't he?"

He slides into his seat next to her, just as a flight attendant leans into their row. "Can I offer you a drink before take-off?"

"Champagne," Geoff says smoothly. "For both of u-" 

"Vodka for me," Dany interrupts. She'll have to sit through this. She's not going to fold, not again, not after she panicked at the tennis match and let him have it. "Straight."

The attendant lifts his eyebrows, but doesn't say a word, while he prepares a plastic flute of champagne for Geoff and then bends down to the bottom of his cart to hand Dany a tiny bottle of Vodka and a glass. 

"Well, then." Geoff waits until the attendant has left for the next row, before he raises his glass. "Cheers, Ms Hammond. Go on. Drink up. We both know you're more fun once you've got a little liquor in you." 

"We both know it wasn't just liquor. We both know it wasn't fun." Dany screws open the cap of her bottle and pours it into the glass, pausing before she looks at him again. "And we both know you walked away. Is it just like that? Do you always just happen to get away with it?"

He smiles, and it's shaped like it should be charming. It's not. It's just empty. "I'm here, aren't I? Makes you wonder. Is it really possible for someone to do 'wrong'? Or are we just afraid? If right and wrong were the immutable forces we treat them as, wouldn't it be impossible for us to do wrong?"

Dany chuckles dryly and shakes her head, then downs the vodka in one go. "I didn't say anything about right or wrong, you started that yourself. My degree is in psychology, not philosophy." She puts the glass down and grimaces. "Pretty sure you, Mr Cortlandt, are an interesting case for both fields."

He laughs a little in return, and it makes her stomach churn. "I like that." He sips too, his eyes wandering over the cabin, before he turns back to her, shifting in his seat to pull up one knee and cross his opposite ankle under it, leaning in like they're good friends. "So," he says. "What did you like most about fucking Peyton?"

"There's a reason you and I were only intimate when I was unconscious, Geoff, and that's because I don't fucking want you in my bed. Not physically, and not mentally either." She smirks and tilts her glass at him. "You'll never know."

His grip on his glass is tight, but he doesn't retreat, and his smile doesn't drop. If anything, it gets more dangerous. "Fair enough. You know-" He glances around like he's about to share a secret. "There was this one time, he and I. We had a little bit of a threesome, there was this girl. We had her between us, on her hands and knees like a whore, she was so hot for it. Peyton has this way he angles his hips- her whole body seized. She wasn't really my type, but the way she looked right then, coming undone for him with my cock so deep in her throat she couldn't breathe... I almost had to keep her." He takes a deep breath and smiles brightly. "Anyway. I can only imagine he was a great lay for you too."

Dany can't breathe. Couldn't then. Can't now. It is her, it was her, the woman caught between them, betrayed, helpless, powerless. Images she can't remember, but dreams of anyway. 

She has to get away. Her hand flies to her waist, unbuckles the security belt, and she staggers to her feet to escape towards the restroom.

"Madam," someone yells, and before she can flee, a stranger is over her, presses her back into her seat. "You cannot get up, Madam, we're in the middle of takeoff, are you insane? Mr Cortlandt, Sir, could you please take care of your friend? She's endangering everyone."

There's more hands on her, Geoff's hands, on her shoulders, wrapped around her own hand, and he's talking over her, her own voice stuck in her throat. "Of course, I'm so sorry about her. She's a nervous flyer. You'd never want everyone on the plane in danger because of you, would you, Dany? We're going to get through this together, I promise. You just need to put your seatbelt back on."

"You got her?", the other man asks sharply.

It's all too much. The shaking of the plane, the hands all over her, the images, and Geoff, Geoff, Geoff, he's next to her, he's over her, he's inside her, 'my cock so deep in her throat that she couldn't breathe', she's dizzy and nauseous and nothing makes any sense.

"No," she whispers weakly, "No, I don't want this, please."

He's not leaving. His hands are on her hips now, almost tender, pulling at the seatbelt, locking her back in. "I know, but there's nowhere else to go. You're just going to have to endure. I'll stay right here with you the whole time, alright? You're not getting rid of me." 

Louder, to someone else, he adds. "I think I've got it from here. Thank you for your help."

The plane's rattling gets heavier, then stops, as it raises from the runway, pushing her back into her seat even deeper. 

Dany's whole body is trembling. Tears are catching in her lashes, but she's not even able to cry. "Why?" she whispers tonelessly.

Geoff whispers in her ear, one arm around her shoulders. "Why not? You were just a fling."

-

They stay like that, Dany locked in her seat, caught in her own body, Geoff leaning in over her, holding her hand in his like a friend would, until the plane has reached cruising altitude and the seatbelt lights turn off with a little ping.

Only then does Dany manage to shake her shoulder and brush his hand away from her. 

"I hate you."

Geoff settles back into his own seat, the grin on his face satisfied and smug. "Whatever helps you sleep at night." He pulls out his phone and opens his picture gallery. "Hey, want to see pictures of my pets?"

She can only shake her head tiredly. "I want you to die" 

"You first, princess." 

It's almost casual, almost like smalltalk, but it cuts deep. Peyton's words ring in her ears. 'If we hadn’t done what we did, you would be dead. Pieces of your body would have been hidden from here to Georgia, and no one would ever have found you.' Geoff had been ready to kill her. He'd not, he'd found another way, but he'd been close. 

"Don't call me princess," she says, even though she knows it's hollow and empty and he'll do whatever he wants anyway. It's easier to reply to that part of his line, than acknowledging the meaning of the other. 

He leans closer again anyway, swiping through pictures of a young Philipino person, sultry eyes thick with mascara and shadow as they watch the camera from repose in a king-sized bed. "This one's Lourdes. They're my latest, just got them a couple weeks ago. I always like to have one picture when they're brand new." He swipes again, and the next picture shows someone with similar features. This one, a young man, is hollow-eyed and clearly frightened as he sits stiffly on an ornate couch, hands clasped tightly between his knees. "See? They just... lose that spirit, after a while."

She doesn't want to look at his phone, but it's not like she can go anywhere. Pets are people, she thinks, she's said it so often, but she doesn't now. Because if anyone is aware of this, she's sure it's him. That's why he's showing her these pictures. Because they're people and because he enjoys to make them miserable. 

Like he enjoys to make her miserable.

You first. 

"You kill them," she says flatly. "Don't you? That's what you're going at with flashing this photo gallery at me." 

He glances around, as if to make sure no one is taking an undue interest in their conversation. "What a horrible thing to say! I love all of my pets. And they're all still with me in one way or another. But I wouldn't expect you to understand that bond, since you have none of your own. You're not very caring, are you, Dany? You flit through life without ever really taking anyone with you. It's why I didn't like seeing Peyton get caught up as your latest infatuation. You would have moved on eventually without a drop of care for what it did to him."

"I did move on," she says, carefully. There's something about the way he's phrased it that rubs her wrong. "He moved on, even before I did. Without a drop of care. You made sure of this." She chews her lip, processing what he's said. "What difference would if had made, if I had 'cared' for him?"

His phone screen darkens as he puts it away, voice turned into an angry hiss. "He deserves better! He actually liked you. 'Dany this' and 'Dany that'-- he sounded like he was twelve, discovering Emiliana all over again. And all you wanted was his dick."

His sudden anger is frightening. Still, it's more manageable than whatever mood that was he's been in before. "All he wanted was my body," Dany hisses back. "He didn't care about anything else. He didn't even care about my consent, for fuck's sake. And, he's married. He didn't deserve better. He just didn't deserve anything I ever gave him. He even handed me to you, to shove your fucking cock into me. What the fuck more did you want? For me to actually love him? Or for him to only have eyes for you?" 

"Please," he rolls his eyes. "His marriage is as real as the tits Valerian's always going on about getting someday. What I want--" He breaks off to smile, as the steward passes down the aisle. "What I want," he resumes in a whisper, plastering on a smile again, "is for you to be forgotten so entirely that it's as if you never existed. But I'd settle for getting off this plane."

Dany laughs, sudden, harsh, almost broken. She doesn't bother putting up an act, just stares at Geoff plainly, waits for him to meet her gaze. "You wouldn't ever get that," she says then. "Whatever Peyton does or does not forget about me, the problem is yourself, Geoff. Because wherever I am, whatever you do to me, you, you will remember there was someone else in Peyton's life, someone he couldn't get enough of, even while he had you." The corners of her lips pull up, almost a grin, but it's too desperate. "Which means you always lose."

The armrest creaks under his grip. His grin is a macabre stretch of lips over teeth. "Have a pleasant flight, Ms Hammond. Wherever you're going after this, I hope you reach your destination safely." 

He slips out of his seatbelt and grabs his jacket with clipped, angry force. 

This time, when he passes her, he keeps his distance. 

Dany doesn't turn around, when he passes her to go towards the back of the plane, just hears a whispered apology to someone else and the re-buckling of a seat belt. 

He's in front of her, when they disembark, walking away from the plane, from her with long, determined strides. Dany pulls out her phone. She still has Peyton's number. She never even bothered to block him. She's pretty sure he didn't either. 

*You're the one in danger, Peyton. You know he can't stop. And you're the centre of it all.*

*He'll kill you.*

*Take care.*

She puts the phone down and looks through the huge airport windows at the cloudy sky outside, before she adds,

*Or don't. I don't actually care.*

The messages are marked as read right away. He doesn't reply.

-

Just a few hundred meters away from her, Peyton Montgomery looks through the windows of his car, spotting the tall figure of his best friend stepping out of the airport doors. 

A quick flick of his thumb deletes Dany's messages. 

Geoff would never hurt him.

When Geoff gets into the car, Peyton's smile is as easy as ever.

[lunartearrose]

Ockiss24 day 5 - darkness!

Characters: December (left), Violet (right)

World: my original project Dreamality :) (title is a work in progress i still dont know if i like it)

Writings under cut!

Once again, Violet and December met up for magic practice. It was a bit dark out, but neither of them minded it much. They stuck to the wide open field aways from the forest, and despite no moonlight, the stars seemed brighter than ever.

Violet was pleased to see him after her long day hunting - he was having a minimal pain day by the looks of the cane that sat beside him in the flowers.

Another thing she noted - his eyes were so shiny in the dark. She stared a ways away as he picked a poppy growing nearby, twisting it to and fro as he inspected how it looked, in his own little world of thought.

She could really watch for hours!

….but she should really make her presence known so she doesn't scare him!

So she walked forward casually, wings lighting her surroundings. “Hi December, I'm back! Are you ready for a new spell?”

December perked up at her voice. “Oh! Yes! Um- should I get up? Or?”

“Nah, you don't have to!” Violet replied, “this one's gonna be fun - I'll teach you to float!”

“Oooh, do you think I can do it?” December asks.

“I'm sure you can! It just needs some sort of focus from what I heard - something touching you that helps with the floating. Plenty of witches use their clothes as the object in question to charm. I was thinkin’ your cloak would make some fine floaties! And if not, we'll try it on your cane if you want. Or whichever one first!”

“Alright! Let's try my cloak first, then…” December replied.

Violet proceeded to show him the spell, using her scarf as the focus - he repeated it with his cloak to an amazingly quick success!

But… the cloak wasn't the best idea. The way it hung on its own wasn't comfortable. With the cane, it required him holding on, and it wasn't comfortable to use like a witch broom, besides not having the best arm strength and balance.

Eventually, the two workshopped and fine tuned until they figured out that the bandages he wore worked out perfectly!

Just like that, the two were floating upwards, Violet using her wings to stay afloat. Together, they marveled at the stars and from there, simply worked on how long December could concentrate on the spell.

And being up in the air gave the two plenty of time to chat about life. Violet’s been helping out the less fortunate between her hunting for a cure for River's entrapment, while December was recently accepted into a college for higher learnings of magic. Being able to find a cure amongst that extensive library would be a plus…

And of course, as the two remember what happened to River, a sad sort of silence fell between them.

And so, December grabbed her hands gently.

“I'd be really happy if you applied, too.” December said, smiling a little. “If we can't find a cure there, maybe… I dunno. It's somethin’ to do.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Violet said. “If they accept demons, I wouldn't mind trying school for real.”

“They'd make an exception for you, I'm sure! You're really sweet.” December replied.

And once again, his past conversation with River about Violet crossed his mind. She always classifies herself as a demon, yet she doesn't look or act like one. Her picking of souls isn't whatever is in front of her. She has no horns. Her wings are without proper form, just beautiful, melting stardust.

Maybe he could figure out that mystery, too, and tell River when he's free that his theory about the kid he loved as a daughter was right all along.

“Thanks, December.” Violet says, “show me how to apply when we get home, yeah?”

“Of course!”

At this, Violet starts to get excited thinking about it, swaying their intertwined hands between them in a little mock dance.

And then, another thought that had been nagging her recently crossed her mind.

“Hey, you know what's kinda weird?” Violet asked.

“Mhm?” December hummed in reply.

“I see it happen all the time around me. You know. But I never really do it myself.”

“Do what?”

“Kiss someone.”

At this, December blushed. “O-oh.”

“Right? I kinda don't get the hype. It's like. What does it really do?”

“I… well… it feels nice, i guess?”

“You guess?”

“I-i never really kissed anyone, either.”

Now. She wasn't sure why, but Violet figured she'd ask.

“Well. Do you wanna find out the big deal?” She asked.

December looked a bit nervous, but a bit excited, too. “Um! S-sure! A-are you sure you want to try it with me?!”

“Yup. We're best friends, so I don’t think there's anybody else I'd wanna try it with.” She replied.

“Well.” December replied, pulling her a bit closer as they floated, “Alright. I agree. L-let's try!”

And with that, Violet leaned in an kissed him.

December froze stiff. He forgot to do anything at all!

Including holding his concentration on that spell.

He quickly began to fall, slipping from her fingers a quick second before she quickly dove down and scooped him up. From there, she floated back down to the ground with him in her arms.

“My bad! I kind of forgot about the spell!! No smooches while concentrating!” Violet apologized, flushed from embarrassment.

December was blushing for different reasons. “I-it's ok! I forgot too.” After a pause, he said, “I don't think I kissed you right, either… c-could I try again?”

With that, she blushed even harder. “I! Um! Yeah, if you wanna…”

Truth be told, she understood why kisses were so fun, now.

Eventually, the two of them would come to realize that they didn't focus on any other spells that night.

At all.

Whoopsie!

[umedaifuku]

Hello, if you write angst or hurt/comfort, may I request a any character you want x reader, where in the process of time travel, they lost reader. It can end in angst or be hurt/comfort, whichever you want.

However if you don't wrote angst, may i request a short reader headcanon with whoever you like.

Lost Voice (Nightmare)

Mentions: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Lore style fic?, slight blood, harm (please comment what mentions are in this) , Fem!reader

A/N I'm sorry for this late post. I had to go over it so many times till I thought this was good. Moving on I hope this is good.

'Why can't we all get along?' Slowly sinking to the bottom of the deep blue a young girl is half conscious.

Now lay me down to sleep

'We're humans.' Crimson bubbles escape her mouth.

'It's so dark like an abyss....I'm scared.'

If I shall die before I wake

Y/N began to choke on water. Attempting to swim to the surface the shadows began to drag her down with them. Frailing her arms and kicking the water, she fought to get up. Not wanting to meet her end.

'Please... let me see him... one last time.'

I pray the lord my soul to take

In an alleyway, the sounds of clanging and glass shattering echoed. Y/N threw metal dumpsters against brick walls, spilling the contents. And smashed beer bottles onto the concrete ground.

'What did I do to them?! All I did was tell a family to evacuate their home and they blame me for so called brainwashing them.' Y/N leans against the wall and slides down. Hugging her knees, tears began to slide down her cheeks.

Then she saw it. Something that can help end it all. Y/N picked up the smashed piece of glass and held it in her hand.

'I wish I never had this voice,' she spoke softly. Y/N took deep breaths.

'I can get rid of it,' she closed her eyes tightly. Aiming for her voice box, she hoped it would tear and hurt her badly.

It never came.

'Huh,' Y/N slowly opens her eyes to a pair of cloudy blue eyes. The male looked down at her with his eyes crinkled as he held the piece of glass in his hands.

'Why did you stop me,' she trembled.

'You were going to hurt your voice,' he replied.

'You shoulda' let it happen,' she scoffs. The cloudy blue eyes kneels down at Y/N's figure.

'No one cares. All they care about is me brainwashing them. You're only here to tell them how I'm a freak. A monster. Just leave me,' Y/N commanded. But he didn't leave or move a bit.

'Why isn't my voice working,' Y/N touches her throat with a surprised face.

'Your voice doesn't work on me because I have my headphones on,' he indeed had his headphones on. Y/N didn't notice.

'You know you can be anything you want to be because this world is full of hope. Use your voice to help them,' the cloudy blue eyes smiles.

'Help them... I'll do it... even if they don't want to accept them,' Y/N declares. The male nods.

'Do you want to do this together?' The male lends a hand for her to take. She takes it, and both walk out.

'Um, what's your name? I never got it,' The male turns his head, facing Y/N.

'Yugo Asuma,' Yugo beams. Y/N's lips curl slightly. For the first time, this felt natural to her.

'Y/N Sirene,' She responds softly.

I remember this.. after that Yugo and I were inseparable. We never left each other's sides. I didn't think that this would bloom into something else...

'Yugo you ready for this?' Y/N adjusted the microphone piece closer to her mouth. Yugo smirks and puts his headphones on.

'ARE YOU READY!' Yugo began to turn his turntable and remixed the song that Y/N wrote. Y/N took a breath and began to sing.

'Someone like me can be a real nightmare, completely aware' But I'd rather be a real nightmare than die unaware, yeah Someone like me can be a real nightmare, completely aware But I'm glad to be a real nightmare, so save me your prayers

I, I keep a record of the wreckage of my life I gotta recognize the weapon in my mind They talk shit, but I love it every time And I realize!

Y/N slammed her foot on the stage.

I've tasted blood and it is sweet! I've had the rug pulled beneath my feet I've trusted lies and trusted tech

Broke down and put myself back together again Stared in the mirror and punched it to shatters Collected the pieces and picked out a dagger I've pinched my skin in between my two fingers And wished I could cut some parts off with some scissors

"Come on, little lady, give us a smile" No, I ain't got nothin' to smile about I got no one to smile for, I waited a while for

A helicopter from above hovered over them gaining both of their attention. But Y/N continued.

A moment to say I don't owe you a goddamn-

Before Yugo and Y/N could react the androids smashed their tech equipment causing the crowd to flee.

'OI, OI, OI WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOUR DOING HERE,' Yugo yelled at the red police.

'DID YOU REALLY CRASH HAVE TO CRASH THE PARTY!' Y/N roars.

'Dj, Singer. We've warned both you several times. And we also told there wouldn't be a next time,' The androids report.

'Haha we're following your rules,' Y/N smiles.

'What's your problem?' Yugo pulls down his headphones. The android projects the rule that was broken.

'A new statutory provision has been established. Article 277 of the android regime under the National Protection Act, records the mental records the mental state of the nation and manages this. The fifth states that in order to record and regulate humanity's mental state, It is strictly prohibited to have more than a certain number of entertainment activities. It has been determined that you are both doing more than the regulated number. Therefore both of you have been determined to be targets of the purge,' The android concludes.

'Do you really think you can manage people's minds like that? No! That's why your going to keep making weird rules, again! You don't understand humans at all,' Yugo says.

'What is this 'The Giver' (a book) because the difference between humans and robots are. That human can make their own decisions and live the way they want. You rust buckets rely on stupid programming,' Y/N sticks her tongue out.

'This has been implemented based on past statistical data and human behavior. We do not need programming overall,' The android adds the last part.

'You don't know why the reason why we're stuck in this place.'

'There is no hope or someone to lead them to the light.'

'You know there's no hope. But we're still playing hard. We need tomorrow too. Come on, we need this freedom.'

'Don't take it,' Y/N and Yugo declare together.

'Whoever refuses to accept out commands will be eliminated. This is our policy.'

'Shut up and listen! You make zero sense! Listen to the people this place is free !' Y/N screams.

'Stay silent and do not disturb the order. Submit to our voice. Know your place, humans,'

'If I have to give up on what I wanna do. I'd rather leave this world,' Yugo smiles sticking his tongue out.

'Baka!' the androids let fire aiming for his eye. Collapsing.

'Yugo!' Y/N ran over to check on him, finding him losing his consciousness.

'Submit to us human or you'll also be eliminated,' the android push the gun towards her throat.

'Fuck off,' Y/N uses her voice to control them. They began to pull the trigger. On her knees her throat was bloody.

'Any last words?' Y/N grabbed Yugo and ran with the androids trailing behind her. She ran to the dock with a dead end. without any choice, she dove down.

This world is cruel... We can't get along people will continue to bud heads... This world is hard to live in...

Y/N towed Yugo somewhere. She tried to cover up her wound but it never stopped flowing. The raging sea broke them apart.

But we can contribute slowly even if it means nothing. Yugo what do you say?

Y/N slowly opens her eyes. Immediately shielding her eyes with her hands from the bright place. She blinks a couple of times and hears children chattering. And people getting along. Y/N began to smile and got onto her feet and ran around the streets. Giggles escape her lips.

'Haha this is a utopia!' she smiles. She turned a corner and found the familiar figure in front of her.

'Yugo! Wait up!' Y/N gently grabs onto his shoulder with a bright smile. That suddenly disappeared.

'Yugo? Who's Yugo?'

I hope you liked this! And sorry for the long story!

[egg-emperor]

If it weren't for Sonic rescuing them, do you think that the cute lil animals that Eggman traps in robots as battery slaves, would eventually perish due to their life forces being drained dry(or starvation/dehydration whichever comes first)?

You know that's exactly what I was getting at a little bit fhjhksfnkjfgndsg It's just way too easy to take discussion of this to dark places and it makes sense because it is a lot more messed up for Eggman to do in the first place than meets the eye to a lot of people! Thank you for encouraging me to talk about it lol, I want to but I'm never sure if anyone else does, so I appreciate it.

The robots aren't known to be built with anything that could actually help keep the animals alive in there, there aren't apparent ways for them to eat or drink while trapped and it would increase the chances of them being able to find an escape, so it wouldn't be ideal. He wouldn't care to tend to them to keep them alive and the robots are mass produced, so it would be too many anyway.

And he just has them built and then sends them out to fight, not caring if they're in danger or destroyed. They're also at high risk of other things going wrong while in there and getting hurt if their robot shells are destroyed, which he doesn't appear to care to consider. So they're just lucky that Sonic is gentle as he can be when it comes to breaking the robots shells open to free them.

And there's the possibility that it could drain them of all their energy until they've got nothing left and perish that way, if Sonic didn't save them in time or dehydration and starvation don't get to them first. They're nothing but tools and batteries to Eggman and batteries have a time limit and eventually run out. And just like batteries, he can easily replace them when they do.

He only acknowledges their condition when they aren't up to his standards before using them like in Lost World, as they need to be decent for their lives to work efficiently as batteries in the first place. But he even tossed animals he was going to use in the intro, so he's willing to let them fall to their doom even when they were fine too, as there are tons more he can use.

So yeah once they're inside the robots with enough energy to use up, he wouldn't care about what happens to them as long as they can work and help his robots function for a while, for as long as they need to when Sonic enters and leaves the area. And they can just be replaced with more after when their time is up from whatever come to them, if they don't end up being freed.

Once they're caught, their lives are in Eggman's hands and he uses up every last bit of energy and they'll hopefully serve well for as long as they can survive if they aren't freed and that's it. He has no respect for wildlife and animals just like he doesn't for the rest of nature and the environment. Doesn't matter what it all becomes, as long as they can be useful and there's still a world to rule.

[turnthepagevn]

Gonna enter the restricted section for a moment here aka mild nsfw ahead.

But the true form/blindfold asks are holding me hostage so my brain is providing scenarios.

One being that MC lets Robin do his thing. It may feel or seem safer that way, they don't know how many appendages he has or if touching one of them might hurt him or turn him off or cause anything weird to happen (What if it's tentacles. What if they grip one too tightly and it just. Comes off???) No, it's just easier to trust in Robin and let him lead. Let him touch and nibble and kiss and guide MC's hands to where Robin will know it'll feel good for him and they can be assured that, yes, if they kiss this part of him, touch it or take it into their mouth, it'll be fine.

And for Robin, it would all just make him fall even harder? The genuine faith and trust. For all MC knows, if they put something of Robin's in their mouth, it could kill them or cause damage or worse. But no, MC trusts Robin to treat them gently, to treat them right, to make it good for them both. So they open their mouth or kiss or lick or nibble, let Robin guide their hands, believing that they'll be left intact. That he, in his big scary form, won't accidentally break or bite a finger off. Hell, even the fact that, ah, he might be too big for MC to take. But that he'll make sure to prepare and care for them or find an alternative if it truly doesn't work out.

And the cherry on top is that they feel all of him. They know he's not human, that he is something incomprehensible and yet they still gasp so prettily and tell him that they love him. They still reach for him and try to tuck themselves close to him and kiss him in the sweetest way possible. Lips curved into a helpless, joyful smile.

They're, in a roundabout way, seeing him naked, without layers, and yet they choose to love him and accept him.

Another idea could be that MC is a little more proactive in the exploration. Maybe there's this giddy kind of glee to them, this spark of curiosity. Yes, they can't see shit but they would like to know what happens if they straddle this part of Robin. What happens if they were to hold this and kiss it? What if they run their hands over him and find something which makes them go 'Oh?' and lean in. Lean in to kiss it or run their tongue over it. Map his entire body, as much as they can reach, with their hands and mouth and file away every gasp, curse and bitten-off noise. Every twitch and quiver. Maybe they find his mouth and it's all sharp teeth and tongue(s) and yet they cuddle close, grip his jaw/cheeks so he cannot turn away and kiss him on the mouth? Kiss all the sharp and jagged and pointy bits he might be worried about?

And if MC ends up hurt, a cut or a bruise, and Robin mutters an apology, they simply laugh and ask him to kiss it all better. This vibrant, happy energy, the lack of regret, just love. Just love and happiness, despite the potential for pain or discomfort or accidents.

Hell, maybe in this kind of scenario, MC is determined to make Robin come before they do. Might take some time, they don't know if there is a lot of Robin or not, but they are down to find out which spots feel good for him!

Leaving their burning touch all over his skin, little motes of ember of their wake. Adoring all of him even though they cannot see, tell him that he feels amazing, that he's incredibly, all while beaming at him. Cherished and appreciated, every inch of him.

Whichever scenario, he gets to show himself and is adored, loved and accepted. And trusted, above all else.

rip, robin

I am going to kiss you on the mouth

AaaaaaaAAAAAAAAA I love this I love this I love this!!!!

Fucking Robin 101!

[reidsaurora]

Make. Me. Write!!!

i was tagged by: @writer-in-theory

Rules and Regulations:

Make a 24hr poll listing the titles of every WIP you want to work on (It’s fine if you only have one, still make a poll for the vote count)

Tag anyone you think might also enjoy this game (No pressure of course)

Whichever WIP title gets the most votes write 1 sentence for every vote. If it gets more votes than your comfortable with, feel free to swap to words.

If somehow that completes the fic or reaches the end of the chapter, move to the WIP with the second highest votes and continue where you left off on your sentence/word count. Repeat until you reach your goal.

(Optional) Share what you wrote in a new Tumblr post with a link to your original poll or attached it to a reblog

idk why but i feel the need to give a lil backstory or explanation of some sort for each one so you know what you're getting into 🫡

backstories and np tags under the cut 🫶🏻🧡

Cowboy!Steve Harrington wip

this one's self explanatory, you can go read the first three fics in this series over on my nsfw blog, @hornyhornyhimbos 🖤✨️

JBU (Reidaway)

so, i teased this series a little bit when SYGB ended but i never really fully committed to writing it because i have a set beginning but i have no clue what to do for the ending 😬

i'm not gonna spoil it because y'all know me, i'm a writer and i have to tease everything but let's just say it involves forced proximity, sorta work rivals to maybe lovers, and black cat!elle greenaway x golden retriever!spencer reid <3

Eat Your Young (Spencer Reid)

i can't explain this much other than that i was extremely h word when i came up with the plot for this and i was playing "Eat Your Young" by Hozier on repeat when it happened

I'm Too Pretty For This (Warren Rojas)

this was a request i got like two months ago when i first announced i was gonna be writing for DJATS characters and i got like two paragraphs in and i hated it so i never finished it 😂

basically something happens between the band members of the group that are opening for DJATS on the Aurora tour and it somehow makes their lead singer realize she might have a thing for Warren 😏

AFTR (Steve Harrington)

this will be my first serious Steve series. i know that the Loriverse exists and the Cowboyverse exists but this one is actually a serious series that i wanted to write for the summer and i just never did

a brief summary without giving too much away is that Stancy happens but doesn't last and somehow Reader/FMC (haven't decided which yet) ends up spending the summer as Steve's rebound of sorts?

LMLAF rewrite (Hotchniss)

so, a few of you may remember this series i posted back in February of 2022. i was extremely depressed and lonely so i did what any normal human would... i wrote a story about Hotchniss being friends with benefits.

however, that story was posted on this account, where I do not post smut. well, other than that one chapter of SYGB but we don't need to go there rn akshksjsjsj

anyway, basically this would be the spicier rewritten version of that where i don't leave readers in the dark about what went on between Hotchniss after Haley died ;)

All Your Being, pt 2 (Spencer Reid)

another fic i wrote where i tried desperately to keep things closed door until now when i decided i don't care about that anymore 😂

in case you guys don't remember this fic, i'll link it here but basically Spencer and midsized!reader have been together for six months but have yet to do the nasty because she's afraid of what he'll think about her body. this part two would basically just be him saying f!ck it and showing her that every body is a beautiful body 🫶🏻

Tolerate It (Spencer Reid)

just go listen to "tolerate it" by Taylor Swift. it would be easier for you to do that than for me to tell you about the dark sh!t that ensued in this fic... i was at my lowest low when i wrote this and you'll see that if i ever post it 🥲

well now that that's over with, how bout some no pressure tags!! 🥳🎉

@reidsbookclub @dungeons-are-too-cold @nomajdetective @bejeweledmunson @rupsmorge @reidselle @lukeclvez @lcvingprentjss @serenity-lattes @writingquillsandpainpills

[bluegarners]

i’m torn between “time time time” and “24 pound paper,” so whichever you’re more inclined to share about i’m all ears!

hellooooo kate!!! <3 and how about both??

so 24 pound paper is more or less what it said on the tin- dick asks bruce to adopt him. with one exception!! i personally have my own gripes about this specific trope about these two- i tend to stay away from this kind of fic bc it always strays towards the angsty "bruce never adopted dick and dick thought that was because bruce never wanted him and so he's insecure and sad and and and". don't get me wrong- i love angst! just not on this particular topic... so!! this fic is entirely meant to be wholesome and all about how bruce has always loved dick and dick has always loved bruce, and how bruce respected dick's choice not to have bruce's name be attached to his legally in a way that bound them as a father-son pair because dick already had a father that he loved dearly but now dick feels like he's ready to open up the topic for discussion again bc he realizes that john grayson will always be his father but maybe bruce can also be his dad too

it's still entirely a wip and i really only have a paragraph or two for them, but these were the sentences that really got me started on it <3

“I know we talked about this a long time ago-” Bruce feels like his heart is about to rocket out of his chest, and Dick must be feeling the same because the papers in his hands are shaking, trembling like lost leaves in the wind, but he’s offering them, giving them over, and Bruce feels- he feels- “But I thought we could talk about it again.”

okay so "time time time" is also a wip that really doesn't... go anywhere? i wrote it sometime last year, in the height of my witcher fascination, and i had fallen down a rabbit hole of jaskier headcanons and delightful fics that added a bit of angst into his world. eventually, i came to my own headcanon that i thought jaskier might have obsessions but little to no compulsions. his thoughts are his obsession- like, i've always thought about how jaskier is always running around, occupying his time with people, with writing, with so many different things that i started to form some kind of idea that jaskier liked to keep busy in order to prevent the tendency for him to really and truly get lost in his thoughts. in this headcanon of mine, i liked to think of jaskier getting so wrapped up in his thoughts (mainly ones of the past) that he would dissociate and lose time here and there if he's not occupied with his hands or otherwise. so! that resulted in this wip (which i'm putting below the cut bc it's kind of long and i dont really have any intentions of finishing it)

See, it goes like this: suddenly, he has time. So much of it. Abundances. The most time he’s ever had, probably, in all of his many years of living. The castle walls are long and cold, and Jaskier has time like he’s never had it before. When a life is filled with composing and singing, wooing and bedding, traveling and yearning, bargaining and pleading, avoiding and skittering, and then suddenly it is not, emptied and spilled out over the edge, life becomes rather overflowing with time. His hands are ruined as they are, and his lute is far away in the likes of someone’s campfire or second-hand shop, so he has nothing to busy his fingers with. He has no notebook or quill to occupy his anxious thrumming, nothing to properly rid his ever circling thoughts and discard them somewhere that isn’t in his head. That means he’s left with not only ample time, far too much of it, but also too many thoughts. Jaskier now has thoughts and time and fuck-all to do with them except to let them invade through his eyes and stay trapped behind clenched teeth. 

See, it went like this: Jaskier has done his best his entire life to keep himself busy, away from his thoughts. He studied and worked hard, buried himself to his elbows in texts and scrolls and sheet music. He learned and received criticism, in turn teaching others and doling his own critiques when the time came. He observed others, observed himself, dove head first into what carnal pleasures of the flesh appeased him, what delicate sweet fruits of life satisfied his appetite. He chased after muses, throwing himself into the masses in the hopes that someone might catch his eye, or even lay claim to himself. He sowed and fretted over wounds and blood, journaled the color of a griffin's wings and the exact viscous consistency of Swallow. Much of his life has been devoted to the precise realities of others, far from his own, so that he might indulge in lives that are more pleasant or fearsomely less so than his own, for Jaskier has never much liked thinking about his life. He has never much liked thinking in general, no matter what his ramblings and countless musing might say, because when he thinks, he thinks in false circles and misshapen lines, broken off segments that he pieces together with other loose lines and fragments that don’t quite fit. 

But now, Jaskier does nothing but think. He has not the strength nor fortitude to build up the walls of Kaer Morhen, and the Witchers have expressed ill gratitude to his unhelpful chatter and presence. Ciri is never not busy, countless lessons and more lessons dogging her every breathing moment, and were it not for the girl herself to declare she does not mind the schedule and actually enjoys it, Jaskier would have already stolen her away so that he might regale her with court stories and songs. But he dare not, knows her destiny is none forged in more than blood and the will of others, and every second that he might take from her, from her destiny, is one where he condemns her. And he has never wished to harm anyone in such a way. 

Blessings. Godsdamn the blessings. His mother said that once, cursing her bastard son, and Geralt had also said something of the sort. He is not a blessing. He is not a curse. However, and this is where things get tricky, all have muttered that his ceasing might just lead to a blessing. Does that make him an omen, a propehcy? But, oh, those things are so fickle, so oft to lead to tragedy and misunderstandings, and nothing like a blessing. So it might very well be that he is actually nothing, not a curse or omen or prophecy, and that his being gone might also just be nothing. His mother damned him and the man that fathered him. Geralt damned him on the mountain, called forth the gods to give him at least one thing he might be granted in all of his miserable years. Godsdamn the blessings and all who ask for it.

But, really, he has no legs to stand on in the matter, for what has he ever asked for that has not led to the sufferings of someone else? Oh, how his mother loathed him and his father side-eyed the blueness in his son’s gaze. Oh, how his fellow students scorned and spurned his aptitude. Oh, how the barmaids and stable boys and all the beauties of the world spat at his feet when he could only love them for a night. Oh, how Geralt scowled and snarled and wished for a single blessing. 

on and on and completely circular in jaskier’s self loathing and memory cycle

He finds himself losing time. Odd, since he has so much of it. It slips through his hands though, even as he bathes in it, and one day, as he lays in his bed and stares at the ceiling, he thinks about his mother and what he might’ve done to ensure he would not have been a bastard had he just known what to do to not be one, and suddenly, daylight is at his window and his eyes are dry and his head achy. Daylight is at his window, and it is strong daylight, yellow and peppered with the shadows of winter clouds rolling over the mountain. The fire in his room has long since died, embers and ash completely still in the grate, and Jaskier’s lips itch.

It happens again, when he goes to the sparse library and chooses a random book, sitting himself down in a chair and thinking about how the tale he’s chosen reminds him of the stable boy that spat at him come the morning after of their evening together, and he blinks and finds that his eyes are dry again and his head achy and his lips itchy and his right index finger scabbing over from a paper cut he doesn’t remember getting.

The days go by and Jaskier does not register them as days any longer. He lapses, often and without notice, and he suddenly realizes he does not know the date or time. There is no way to tell, and he finds himself unable to ask, unwilling to bother or burden any one of the six other people within Kaer Morhen’s walls. Not when the mere thought sends him spiraling down yet another warped memory, too faded to really recall but within his mind and trapped all the same. 

He misses meals, sometimes. Most often breakfast. No one makes a move to confront him about this development. Jaskier does not know what to think of this, but he supposes it doesn’t matter too much seeing as he’s already so preoccupied in thinking of so many other things. The blisters on his hands heal slightly, hot red scars numbing the tips of his fingers and cramping his palm, and were he not already trying to not think about the pain and the fire and the heat, Jaskier would have surely thought about his imprisonment and his torture. As it is, however, he is simply much too busy thinking to really give much thought to it. 

Enough time spills from his hands that he begins to smell. He takes note of it absently one evening, occupied as he is with his forehead against the rough stone wall and his ever evolving plan on how to prove to the Countess that he’s not a worthless harlot after all, and the smell of his own odor reaches his nose. It’s not quite rank, not enough to really give anyone reason to cover their face with their hands, but it is odd. At some point, Jaskier is sure he would have had the time to wash and take care of the odor, exchange his clothes for new ones and soap out the oil and grime from his hair, but, as it is, his plans are far too complicated and growing to stop thinking now. He’s too busy to take the time to wash. 

[rawmeknockout]

The inbox is open and I'm back around to request more cobra commander. So, cobra commander/reader nsfw and holy cow I want him to suffer. Something dirty and amazing that makes that piss baby want to scream.

I hope you can have fun with this one darling 😘

//im making it a sequel to this post//

Your soft, ungloved hand works his cock for what feels like the millionth time, although you know you couldn't have been in here for longer than an hour. Technically, you aren't supposed to be here and, technically, you would be in a lot of trouble if someone were to catch you. But you're not just some worthless newbie! You'll show the rest of your comrades that you're just as important. That's why this is alright. At least, it will be once you wring the information you need out of Cobra. Or out of his dick. Whichever.

He hisses at you with demands to move faster, bucking his hips until he's practically fucking into your cupped hand. You have to wonder how often he gets to be touched like this, not just sexually but intimately. If you just wanted to sexually torment him, you would have just left your leather glove on, but a guy like Cobra... You have to assume he doesn't get a loving touch too often. Why would he be such a disgusting little urchin if he did? You slow down, for the millionth time, and Cobra rears his helmet covered head back with a near shout of anguish.

"When my subordinates release me from this infernal cell, you will wish you had never even been born!" He's such a charming man. You just choose to assume he means 'when my subordinates release me I'm going to beg you to fuck me hard.' It's a nicer thought.

"You're not liking this? Maybe I'll just leave," Before the sentence is even out of your mouth Cobra is demanding, in his shrill, loud voice, that you stay and finish what you've done. You can't see his any of his skin, besides his rather flushed cock, but you have to assume he's sweating and red. How can the guy stand to be in that helmet for so long?

Cobra leans his head down, chin nearly touching his chest, as you move your hand torturously slow on his angry cock. The start of condescending laughter bubbles up from Cobra's chest, and you know you're going to have to humor more of his demented tirades.

"So you've been thinking about me since I first claimed you, is that it?" You perk up at his words, eyebrow arched but face otherwise guarded. You didn't mean to give him the wrong idea. "Admit it, you little whore. You've been thinking about my cock all this time, haven't you?"

You bristle at his words, not wanting to give him anything to needle you with but... There's a part of you, a nasty, evil little part, that agrees with Cobra. The way he spoke to you, promised to make you a good, useful soldier, is everything you've ever wanted. You want to be good. You liked that he saw potential in you.

"I enjoyed it, too," You shiver at his words, taken by them before you could realize it. You wish he would shut up, but your hand keeps working his cock with a gentle touch. Cobra cants his hips up to meet you, a sigh you assume he meant to repress coming muffled from under that shiny helmet. "We could be so good together. So chaotic."

Your grip remains gentle, loving, but you speed up as Cobra talks. He may have meant to needle at your insecurities, but he's letting himself go with the fantasy your touch evokes. You want to feel those lips on you again. It doesn't matter if he never lets you see him, you just wanted to be close to so much power. But you have a self-ordained mission to complete and you are going to see it through. Your gaze hardens as Cobra talks, determined despite the roiling pit of heat in your belly.

"They are incompetent when it comes to harnessing your potential, but I could make so much more out of you," Cobra lifts his head just the slightest bit, just enough to let you know he's watching you. You look into your own reflection, seeing someone young and lost and ruffled. But resolute. Cobra melts into your caring, loving touch. He's falling into the idea he's built up of you, the vision he has for what you could be. Who you could be to him.

"There is so much more than they will ever let you know. So much more that you could be. They are holding you back. The future isn't with G.I. Joe," Cobra says the name with derision, "It is with me."

You lean closer, your lips just barely touching the tip of his cock, letting your breath fan over his sensitive skin, "The hidden missiles, Cobra. Where are they?" Your words are soft as your hand slows again, just barely, but he's so deep into the moment that consists of you. Only you. You, you, you.

"Donner Pass," He hisses, almost seeming like he wants to spit at you, "Don't you dare stop!"

As a reward, you're hand speeds up faster than before. You don't break the pace you've set, don't look away from his helmet, for once letting him have what you so cruelly kept out of reach. Cobra comes in your hand with a stuttering, broken, gasping cry of your alias. You haven't the time to move your mouth away, his load hitting you across the nose and cheek. You would grumble if it didn't make that pit in your stomach flip and turn with something you try desperately to hold down.

"Perfect!" You jump up, wiping hastily at your face with a dirty cloth you kept to clean your gun. Ew. You're about to leave before you jolt with realization, turning to make sure you put Cobra's dick away and settle his ruffled clothing. You just hope unblocking the cell camera will be just as easy. Cobra tries his damnedest to rile you into coming back, but you're out of the cell block before he can even hiss your codename.