#the implication that he's not allowed inside.....like a dog

[alpacinosgf]

[under-lore]

What could Sans find out about Flowey ?

By finishing a neutral route over and over again multiple times, Flowey has some unique dialogues in which he mentions various trivia or shares his thoughts on some of the other characters.

One such character is Sans, who Flowey notably gives us a warning about.

However, the way he words that warning feels a little intriguing :

While Sans is generally a very perceptive character who is often capable of making pretty good guesses from limited information, Flowey makes it rather obvious that he is speaking from experience rather than simply making a general comment about Sans' observation skills.

But a question that isn't brought up very often is, what was it exactly that Sans would frequently "find out" about Flowey to warrant this warning ? And how ?

While the question may seem unanswerable at first due to Flowey not giving us any specifics whatsoever, there are a few details scattered throughout the game which may allow us to deduce our way towards what was most likely the intended answer.

First, we know what solution Flowey ended up settling with in order to deal with whatever that issue was : Simply avoiding Sans.

In any given timeline, Flowey took the habit of avoiding to be seen by or around Sans at any point, unless he specifically had something in mind that required him to do so. (such as in the pacifist ending) As a general rule of thumb, he would avoid Sans altogether as much as possible.

However, even with that effort on Flowey's side, a quick mention of a talking flower from Papyrus is already enough to seemingly get Sans at least a little suspicious that something may be up with that.

This is our second clue : The fact that it took Sans so little information for him to get suspicious of what Papyrus told him about a flower.

Our last clue is the few words we hear from Sans after he sees and hears Flowey at the end of the pacifist route :

In order to find out what to make of those clues, we need to introduce a fourth element : Sans' scientific background.

Luckily, none of the more complicated or speculative nuances of that side of his character are required here, all that we need is to highlight his somewhat-hidden friendship with Alphys.

She knows him well enough to call his jokes in advance :

Or here, the game more obviously points out that these two seem surprisingly friendly.

Sans tries to play it off, but it is clear they know a lot more about each other than seems at first glance.

But how much exactly ?

Well...

To go back to our main point, if one were to call Papyrus' phone in front of Alphys' lab, the conversation between the skeletons brothers would eventually deviate towards the question of wether or not Alphys is hiding dogs inside of her lab.

To which Sans answers, winking :

If it had just been this one joke, it may have been a coincidence, but the game doubles down on this exact same implication if you call Papyrus from within the lab as well, showing that this connection between Sans and Endogeny was absolutely intentional :

While the determination experiments were sorely Alphys' entreprise, it appears that Sans was at least made aware of the way they ended up playing out.

We cannot affirm with certainty how much detail exactly Sans has regarding the experiments, but if he is aware for the dogs and possibly even involved in dealing with them (as he had the dog food bag in his room), then he most definitely would also know about the vessel too. It was the main goal, after all.

This vessel had a few particularities.

First, it was a golden flower, the flower from the outside world, chosen for symbolic reasons.

But second, that specific golden flower was chosen because it was different from the rest.

It was at the center of the garden, it had grown before all the others, those were the ones mentioned by Alphys in her entries. But there was one more specificity which she omitted to bring up :

Golden flowers in Undertale are a species of flowers which has 5 petals.

But our "vessel" had a mutation, resulting in an extra 6th petal.

A design choice in part, perhaps, but one that takes a very real in-world importance within this context.

Adding to this that, from the view of the current timeline iteration, the vessel seems to have suddenly vanished one day and...

Since it is likely for Sans to have been aware of all of this, now, it makes a lot of sense that the mere idea of a new mysterious talking flower that says strange things showing up out of nowhere would immediately put him on high alert. A potential connection with the missing vessel is easy to make.

Actually, now that we have this context, even Alphys seems to make the same connection as well after hearing Papyus mentioning a talking flower just before Flowey arrives.

But most of all, it now feels incredibly clear why Flowey needs to avoid being seen by Sans so much.

His entire appearance, and particularly his obvious extra 6th petal, are all dead giveaways of his origins.

Could Sans, who is skilled enough at analysing faces to tell the difference between the face of someone that has died 9 or 10 times in a row, really miss out on such blaring evidence ?

Of course not.

Flowey might as well have written "i am the vessel" on his face with a marker as far as Sans is concerned.

Chances are that merely seeing Flowey even once would be all it takes for Sans to be practically certain that Flowey must be the former vessel.

Not only that, but given that those experiments were all about determination, the so called "resolve to change fate", Flowey would also immediately be considered extremely likely to be the anomaly, too.

This is what we see in this scene :

Not only does Sans get to see Flowey here, but the speech that Flowey makes during this scene also provides him with definitive evidence that Flowey really was the "anomaly" he had been worried about, as his psychological profile matches extremely well with the one Sans shows us to have built for the anomaly in a genocide route. But, it also shows him that Flowey has, for now at least, lost his anomalous time powers to Frisk, and is thus struggling to keep them in his "game".

This suggests that for now, Frisk actually still has the advantage, and that despite all those crazy speeches, without his reset powers, that weirdo has got nothing on them.

But this is all later on in the story.

During Flowey's earlier RESETs, being seen by Sans, even once, quickly becomes a major pain for Flowey in every timeline iteration in which it happens.

At best, he might get "pranked accross time and space" a number of times. At worst, Flowey might have no choice but to reset and start all over again on whatever he was aiming to do.

Except this time around, without letting the smiley trashbag learn ANYTHING about him.

[allzelemonz]

Just What He’s Looking For: Demon X Male Reader

Fictober Prompt: Day 1, Overstimulation and Size Difference Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader referred to as ‘boy’ and ‘man’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Demons, Hoodoo, crossroads deal, anal fingering, anal sex, sex for money, he doesn’t want your soul, unrealistic sex, magic gag, magic restraints Summary: A crossroads deal for money doesn’t cost you your soul, but something much more intimate.

The road is empty. Dirt and gravel long settled as if a car hasn’t passed over it in days. The time on your phone blinks into a new day, midnight coming to glow back at you. The dirt under your shoes starts to feel like something more solid, packed from how long you’ve been waiting in the middle of these roads. The Hoodoo X, the meeting place of devils and demons.

“Welcome, child.”

Your spine stiffens like a steel rod at the impossibly deep voice. It sounds as if bass came to life and learned to speak for itself. Everso slightly, you turn your head. Standing behind you is the man of legend, ‘the black man’. And that he is, pitch black. Like the infinite void of space wrapped itself around a man’s body. He’s impossibly tall with broadness to match, but every other feature is hidden in the black.

“Been a while since I’ve had a deal.” He smiles, his teeth unseen in the black. “What can I do for you, boy?”

You swallow your nerves, turning to face whatever creature it is that’s appeared, be it devil, demon, or something else entirely. “Money. I need money.”

He chuckles, deep and shaking. “Doesn’t everyone now?” He steps closer. “Folks used to ask me for skill. Playing guitars or winning Poker, but the tides are changing. Handsome young men gotta ask me for just plain money now.”

“What does it cost?” You manage to keep the shutter from your voice as he rounds you, his eyes feeling like fire on your form.

“Your soul, usually.” He hums so deep it sounds like music. “But yours doesn’t interest me.”

His hand feels like warm water as it drapes itself around the back of your neck, squeezing just enough to make you feel like a scolded dog. He pushes you down and onto your knees, the dirt immediately dusting onto your pants.

“No, from you I want something else.” He sighs, squeezing lightly at your neck. “It’s been centuries since I’ve had a decent looking man.”

Your mind settles on the implication. “You want--”

“To bed you, yes. Now lie down and take what you're given, money will come.”

It seems a small cost in the grand scheme. Letting a demon fuck you for a lifetime of money and ease. So, without protest, you settle face down in the dirt and let the warm hands position you properly. He pushes your head down, allowing you to turn your face, but props your hips up with some invisible force to hold them there.

The warm feeling of his hand slides through the very fabric of your pants as if they’re not there at all and slips into you unceremoniously. His fingers feel like water, warm and expanding, but you’re unable to make a sound with some unknown silencer muting you entirely. Effectively it all turns you into a living sex doll for the demon to use.

And use you he does.

Unmoving and mute, your mouth open in silent cry, he fills you entirely. Every inch is like warm water, but somehow solid. His massive size takes over your whole body, pressing around your insides until tears stream down your face at the tip peeking through your lips. The demon groans in your ear as his inhumanly large body drapes over you, yet no breath hits your ear. The thrusting feels like an entire digestion, fucking through your whole body as if it was made to be a simple cocksleeve and not an intricate set of organs.

It goes for hours. Hours of use, hours of filling you, hours of invisible hands pumping and palming you to completion after completion. When it finally ends, when the massive length of the demon finally leaves you, your mind is nothing but a cloud and your body nothing but an empty sleeve. The dirt covers your clothes, nestles into your hair, and dusts your lips, but you are unable to care as your eyes fall closed and it feels as though your heart stops.

But then you wake up. A sunny morning in bed, birds chirping, and a bank notification on your phone.

[bokutosbiceps]

meeting the house guard dog

ryoumen sukuna x afab!reader | fluff | ~550 words 

warnings: suggestive themes, otherwise none !!

a/n: this is for my darling @kamesama ,, we came up with this lil idea that we're besties who'd date yuuji n sukuna in the au where they're brothers. so this is my first meet drabble for kame n sukuna !! 🤭 i hope ya enjoy, my loves !!

18+ MDNI

“who the hell are you?” piercing brown eyes, and a sneer so sharp it makes you step back, look down on you. the man standing in the doorway does a once over of your body and shifts slightly.

you minutely shake your head and take a step back forward, clearing your throat and regarding this (handsome) stranger with as intense a look you could muster.

“what’s it to you?” you scoff, tilting your chin up so you could look him in the eyes.

“maybe because i live here, you b–” 

“‘kuna!” a mirror image of the asshole before you rushes up behind him. “stop it!” this second stranger wrestles his way to stand in the doorway with the first stranger. he offers you an apologetic smile.

“hi!” he introduces himself as yuuji, your housemate/best friend’s boyfriend, and invites you to come inside while you wait for her to come out.

yuuji disappears back into the house as quickly as he appeared from within it and you try to follow him inside but are stopped by the first stranger’s arm. kuna, yuuji had called him.

you look back at him and he’s still glaring down at you. he exhales a groan through his nose and crosses his arms, moving to the side to give you the minimum amount of space to enter the house.

once you cross the threshold, you turn to sukuna with a sly smirk.

“‘kuna?”

“sukuna.”

“what are you, the house guard dog?”

“yuuji’s brother.” 

“interesting.” you cross your arms and push past sukuna, looking around the foyer as you enter the house. “nice place.”

sukuna scoffs and closes the front door, leaning his back against it. “so why’re you here?”

“i'm picking up my best friend.” you sit down on the bench a few steps from the door. “yuuji’s girlfriend.”

“she probably won't be out for a while.” sukuna drawls, walking deeper into the house. you get up and follow him, questioning him. “her and my brother have been having an…awakening of sorts.”

your eyes widen and you stifle a chuckle at sukuna’s implication. he sits down on the couch, man spreading to provide next to no room for you. he lets his arms hang off the back of the couch and he leans his head back a bit, always seeming to look down at you.

“great…” you stand in front of him, fidgeting with your fingers as you think of something else to say. “i guess…yuuji can bring her home.” you motion toward the door. “i should go then.”

sukuna watches you turn around, letting his eyes travel to your ass without a shred of shame. nice, he decides. he clears his throat again, causing you to turn around.

you watch as he shifts so that his knees approximate and there's suddenly enough space for you to sit next to him on the couch.

“you could go…if you're afraid of getting your ass beat in mario kart.”

you fight back a smile and walk to where sukuna is sat, feeling like you're on stilts, and take the spot next to him on the couch. he passes you a switch remote and turns on the console.

“you're actually allowing me to stay?” you tease, accepting the switch remote from him.

“don't give yourself a stroke thinking about it too much, doll.” sukuna keeps his gaze trained on the screen but lets his knees fall open once more. "it ain't that deep."

you gulp at the physical contact and focus on the screen as best you can. but it's extremely hard, given there's a certain pink haired, handsome asshole bumping his knee against yours to distract you.

taglist: none! lemme know if you wanna be added to my jjk taglist !!

[penvisions]

gone to the dogs {chapter 5}

Pairing: Boston QZ! Joel Miller x Reader ; brief mentions of Boston QZ! Joel Miller x Tess Servopoulos

Summary: Joel dwells on the new facet he's been witness to, internally overthinking over everything his had become and what it once was.

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, canon typical gore, outbreak fic, age gap (only by about ten years), angst, mean joel miller, joel miller is uptight, degrading language, sexual language, sexual proposition, violence, heated interactions, adult language, fighting, argumentative language, mutual disdain, sexual content, implication of sex work, unprotected piv, sexual acts, reader is snarky, reader gets violent, minor injuries, reader meets joel toe-to-toe with insults and it's amazing, both reader and joel pov, lemme know if there are any i missed!

A/N: aaaaaand i'm back. please lemme know what you think?

ao3 link || series masterlist || joel miller masterlist || ko-fi

It’s confusing, the way that he feels about you.

There are warning bells sounding inside his mind, even before the trip to Lincoln to meet with Bill and Frank. While that had helped to establish another partner for trade with a different set of goods, it also allowed him a glimpse into the person you had once been. It had made him begin to think of who you had been and the things the world had done to make you into who he knew you as.

He had been as genuine as he was able to when he approached you in the shower you had indulged in his growing attraction of you. The way you had seemed almost welcoming of him even as you stood naked underneath the stream of water and the whisper of his harsh words from the night before between you. You had allowed him in, had talked with him quietly, none of the biting words you both typically shared.

And then they came back, tinging the air and attitudes flaring the closer you got to the zone.

He doesn’t understand the pull he feels to align in your orbit, the way his appetite could only be sated should you provide toward it.

But he’s all too aware of it that morning as he groans and rolls over to find the bed empty. Tess is at the table, watching him with a detached look on her face. He had started out on the couch, unsure of when he had fallen into her orbit much like he’s used to, much like he’s realizing he’s doing with you.

“Cane dropped off some deliveries for you. I’m going to work, laying low for a while.”

He grunts, pushing himself off the bed. His head hangs between his shoulders as he scrubs aching hands over his face. The hush of his facial hair loud in the silence.

“Didn’t mean to kick you out of the bed.”

“You didn’t. You stayed on your side the entire night.”

“Still.”

“Look, you’re the one who put up the boundary, I’m not gonna push it. We can share a bed without it meaning anything. It’s just sleep.” She’s not upset, at least not that he can sense of her knowing her tells and tones, but she’s not happy either. More…reserved and resigned, willing to play along with the things he had confessed to her as they lay in a furnished house, in a nice bed, with blankets and covers that weren’t matted with dirt no matter how hard they scrubbed them in the sink.

“Gotcha.”

She was out the door before he could finish turning to look at her over his shoulder. He could hear you moving about in your space next door, the slow way your steps move atop the aged hardwood and threadbare carpet with such little sound. So light on your feet, like always. He’s seen it more times than he could count, the way you tip toe up landings of stairs ahead of him, feet light and steps quiet to not draw any attention to you. Always covering your tracks, minimizing the impact you have on your surroundings. Human or otherwise.

‘He can’t sleep, it’s too quiet. He keeps hearing the creak of floorboards, the soft voices of others through thin walls, vehicles patrolling the streets. His mind won’t quiet like the phantom sounds he hears that tell of life in the zone. He’s struggling with being away though he can’t stand to be there in the first place.

It’s an odd feeling, like he doesn’t belong. Anywhere.

The older men have ‘welcomed’ them into their home, albeit he’s sure their hospitality is more of an extension from their fondness of you and Frank’s delight in Tess. Not for him, never for him. A dangerous thing. A dangerous man. Someone to keep an eye on, to tread carefully and cautiously around. He thinks of how he’s had to use his hands, shut off parts of his brain while others shut down on their own in the wake of everything he’s been through, the things he’s done in the name of survival and protection.

And while he regrets, he also revels. In the things he didn’t know he was ever capable of. The things he never wanted to be capable of. He sees in in everyone, the potential. It’s instinct at this point, he sees in himself, in Tess, in you, in Bill and Frank, everyone he interacts with. It makes him a cautious man, exactly the same at the two who had offered him room and board for the night.

Though he doesn’t know if he would’ve done the same, if he had been in their position.

Maybe to Tess, maybe to you. But not another man. It’s hard to tell what they carry in themselves, hard to tell what he carries still and what he’s forced out of his mind.

He doesn’t startle when a soft hand begins to wander over his side, gently holding to his waist.

“What’s got you breathing so heavy?”

“Nothin’,” Is his immediate response, even in the cover of darkness he doesn’t want to open up his mind to the woman beside him. He can’t, she has her own history that plagues her. He knows about some of it, some of it he doesn’t. Some of it may be his fault, some of it is his fault, and he doesn’t…can’t handle hearing the confirmation even if he already knows. Already senses that his lack of willingness to talk, to put voice to things, the way they’ve lived dwells on Tess’s mind far too much. Especially now…

“Joel…” A sigh of her own fills the air, he can feel it on the back of his neck where she’s leaning into his space, arms wrapping around him as they always do. Cradling him, allowing him a moment to feel and not be the one providing, protecting, defending. She allows him that, the chance to just be. Even if he rarely feels like he needs to, even if he feels the need to far more often than he’d like to admit.

Her hand snakes lower, thumb hooking in between the worn leather of his belt and the waistband of his jeans. He had refused to change out of his clothes, while she had willingly and quickly shucked off her own clothing for the set of soft pajamas neatly folded on the bed when they had retired for the night. A finger dangles lower, feeling for him beneath the rough fabric and his mind short circuits.

He….he doesn’t want to. Even as the familiar flare of pleasure roils deep in his body.

“Tess, no.”

“Are you sure? Could help you to relax, actually get a decent night’s sleep for once.” She doesn’t move her hand lower or more firmly, she doesn’t lean into him more, but her words tell of her own willingness and something in him freezes.

“I said no,” He rumbles, feeling at odds with the way pleasure begins to unfurl in his nerves. A natural response to the woman beside him, the only woman he’s known in such a way for over two decades. A lie, his mind decides to betray him, he’d had you just the other day. In a way he’d never anticipated and it had set his nerves on fire and stalled his mind, his bravado crumbling the second your body responded and you touched him in return. It had been electrifying, the way your sounds

“I don’t, I can’t. It’s…it’s not fair to you.” It’s not that he doesn’t feel anything for her, on the contrary, she’s stuck by him for years. Knows him as well as he knows himself, or maybe even more at this point as he’s lost so much of who he used to be. Who he used to think was a good person, a good neighbor, a good brother…a good father. A thoughtful person who watched out for his own, protected and provided for his own as best he could with the hand he had been dealt.

“Don’t you dare make this about me, Joel.” Her voice betrays her, eyes searching his own as he rolls to face her head on, to face his decision and any consequences head on. She’s beautiful, his heart laments.

Her hair is smooth and shiny from a shower she had been allowed to indulge in, with actual hot water and products that he had recognized from his many trips to the store to try and find something to tame tighter curls than his own. Her face is more relaxed than he has seen in- ever, he thinks.

And of course, he would ruin the first real moment she’s had to herself in years. Since before the end of the world, probably.

Joel Miller, a failure once again.'

He shakes the memory from his mind, hoping that today can begin the new page he's intent on beginning.

“I keep forgetting y’all are relatively new here. But the way it happened was, she came outta nowhere, no one knew who she was. Barely recognizable among the mules used for trade to avoid suspicion when the zone first started changing.” The guy is surprisingly willing to talk with his drinking companions, unaware of Joel listening intently as he nurses his own glass.  The room muggy and the air stale as the underground cellar is all but turned into a speak easy. “But then one day the man guy who came from the free lands beyond the walls was found dead with his throat ripped out. Teeth marks and a bloody fingerprints stamped on his forehead. Then all of a sudden, she’s in the middle or in charge of every trade, of every product coming in or out of the zone.”

“She was a mule?” The incredulous statement is just that, a statement. A matter of fact that Joel can feel even in the absurdity of the words uttered by a stranger. A theory he’s had since Frank had checked on you, one on one. The worry and anxiety he had expressed at the way you two had been separated spoke more than the story he was sure to never hear the entirety of. It would explain how you knew so much, every small gap in the fence. Every officer to work with, which ones to avoid. The camaraderie he’s sensed between you and some of them even if your face falls the second you turn away from them. How some of them, how some people of the zone, flock to you.

There are no more mules, no more women who are used to trade. Everything done between willing participants, the use of those unwilling eradicated by someone who had been in their place once. He can almost picture it, even if he doesn’t want to. A younger version of you, terrified but cunning. Biding the time until you could take your power back.

“That’s the rumor, she didn’t even come into the zone proper or get registered, FEDRA turns an eye on her because they benefit from her supplies. Some of them fall at their feet for the chance to interact with her.”

“Shit, she’s really got everyone wrapped around her little finger.”

“People tried to report her, rat her out to soldiers because of how much she was charging but she never got caught and then the next day whoever tried to do it would show up dead. The only person who didn’t was her brother, who watched after her like a damn guard dog, day and night. Those damn little paw print stamps were on everything from that point on, the same ones used now.”

Everything froze in the room as the sound of thunder boomed overhead, the heavy sound of tanks rumbling down the road up above following the sound of rain falling heavy.

“You mean to tell me, some little girl who was being used as a mule ended up being in charge of the entire smuggling scene?” The young woman refilling drinks and taking ration cards couldn’t quell her curiosity, the talk of you buzzing all around the room. It was only natural, you were a woman holding control over something, she was but a server working out a debt in the underground bar.

“She ain’t no little girl anymore. Bitch is fit to tear people apart if she even so much as senses they’re thinking of turning her in or ambushing her. Things got a little different after she turned her own brother in, claiming he used her as a mule too to save her ass from getting caught. But no one really bought the lie when the scene didn’t change after his death. She’s always alone though, no one was looking after her until Miller showed up. But damn if she wasn’t hard to find, kept to the shadows and had soldiers doing most of the trading for her.”

The woman glanced over at Joel, not lifting her eyes to meet his as he placed a card on the table to signal he wanted another pour. She did so, his gruff nod of acknowledgement catching her off guard when he didn’t reach for her in a move she was far too used to at this point. When she pocketed the card, he reached out and slipped another few into her hand directly.

She didn’t say anything and neither did he. Draining his glass, he stood and exited the seedy basement.

He stands outside in the alley, letting the rain sprinkle on his face and neck, reveling in the cool feel of it as it sobers him up. He’s still coming down, the day had been long as he realized just how much he had taken. The events of last night play over his head, the snarl of your lips, the heft of your words, the feeling of the cut off fingers thudding into his chest as you pinned him down. His neck stings as the salt in the rain touches the thin cut on his neck and he thinks over the words of the other patrons.

He feels something swell in his chest, a mixture of emotions knows is tainted by dangerous ones. Like desire.

You had been a mule. Not even legal when the outbreak happened, forced into working the underground scene. Separated from the only person who you had known, forcefully from the way he recalls the conversation between you and Frank. But yet…you had flourished. Grown thick skin, a pelt of protection, a snarl to your lips, and threat to your words. A mirror of who he had turned into, the thought heady as it swirls around his mind.

You had made something of the situation, taking it over and blossoming into someone who had the power instead of being controlled by it. There was no doubt you were behind the ransacking of the apartments once they had returned to the zone. He wondered why for a moment, before he realized that it didn’t matter. He and Tess would fall in line, rather be a part of it and work with you than find themselves on the other side of the line and working against you or competing with you.

It was…admirable, he had to admit. Even if he couldn’t stand the air you sometimes adapted around him. Matching his comments, his attitude, his undermining and authority when he put his foot down. He sees it for what it truly is now, a match to his energy. To hide your own meanings and intentions by butting heads with him. Not at all a false notion, as he’s seen real annoyance and frustration flare to life in your eyes more than once. Now that he’s seen another facet of who you are…

He wonders if…if he were to calm down, would you do the same? He’s tired, the days dragging on and the circumstances getting more dire. He didn’t want to waste energy he didn’t have.

He must’ve been standing there for longer than he realized, because the young girl who had been serving steps out, steps faltering as she sees his shadow close to the door.

“Oh! I’m…you startled me.” He sees that same sparkle of fear he had in your own face, though it’s more apparent, more glaring in this scenario. She doesn’t quickly hide it, gloss over it like you had. She’s innocent, she’s doing her best with what she’s got. But it’s not enough, it will never be enough. For either of you. For him.

“Didn’t mean to.”

“Thank- thank you, for the cards.” She takes a deep breath, as if stealing herself. “Do you want-“

“Don’t wanna see you in there again, you hear me?” Joel cuts her off, aware of his drawl encompassing his words more than usual. The gruff way he shoves the sentiment from deep within his chest, thoughts of a younger version of you in his mind, of his own daughter being forced into the same situation. Of how unfair and disgusting it is, the way women are treated in the end of the world, like just another possession to control and seek after. If he can prevent it in this case, then he would.

“You go home and you stay home, do the work organized by the zone. Only the work organized by the zone.” He catches her eyes, dipping his head in order to do so. She’s frightened, unsure of what is going ton, but she’s remained quiet. A nod of her head is all the answer he gets. “You need anything, you come to me. Food, water, clothing, a place to hide away. No strings or favors attached.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

And then he’s shrugging off from his spot against the wall, shoulders of his jacket damp just as his curls begin to feel the weight of the rain collected on them. It isn’t much, but it’s something. He’s tired of wasting energy in an endless fight for hierarchy, he just wants to feel like a person again. You allow him the space to, your hesitant revelations of late letting him know that there’s a yearning to feel normal that lives in you too.  

The tear of your skin from the barbs is hidden by the pelting rain much like the scream you suppress into a huff of breath, the snag of it pulling a slight whimper in the base of your throat. Muscles tensing, you continue to haul yourself over the top of the fence, the barbs dragging further as you move over them and allow yourself to fall on the other side. Rolling, you try to minimize the impact, your feet finding purchase and you take off down the dim street as search lights continue to search the part of the city you just escaped.

Steps quiet, the adrenaline coursing through your veins spurs you forward, jacket intact but shirt beneath it torn and you hold a hand tight to your middle with a hiss.

The rain comes down in heavy sheets now, just a sparse sprinkle when it had first started. But now thunder and lightning accompany it. The sky lighting up with every deafening boom and you tried to stick to the shadows of the buildings, using them as hideaways as you made your way back to your building.

You barely plopped down into the chair when you heard the muffled voices of your partners next door.

Shrugging from your jacket, you pulled your hair up out of the way before you began to pull the saturated shirt from your upper body. A hiss fell from your lips when the torn fabric stuck to the still bleeding cuts on your middle. Holding your breath, you carefully removed it and tossed the thing to crumble into a heap on the floor. The bite of your belt buckle into your stomach was ignored as you took a healthy drink from the bottle of amber liquid beside you on the table.

“Fuck,” You whispered to the empty apartment as you began to open the sterile packs assembled on the tabletop.

You’re barely on the second pinch of your skin at the needle’s end when the hinges on the door creak. A lucky thing that you recognize the man walking through it, having blanked out on locking it in your haste.

“Hey, I’ve got those credits you-“ Joel trails off when the door opens easily and he’s privy to the scene of you trying to stitch yourself up. Hands trembling slightly and head craned at an awkward angel to best see the spot that needs tending low on your stomach.

“Just set them on the table.” You don’t look up from where you pierce your skin with the needle, silver medical wire catching the light as you pull it as taut as you safely could, blood seeping through the wound at the action. Twin drops of it trailing down your skin to sink into the fabric of your undone waist band pulled to the side, undone belt clinking with the motion of you reaching for another swig of liquid courage.

“Let me,” Joel’s voice is quiet, nearly soft in the way it lacks the gruff edges normally adorning his words.

He’s scooting another chair closer to you, his hands wiped clean on the abandoned cleansing cloth you used among the supplies. His thick fingers carefully extract the needle from your own, mindful to not pull at the work you’ve already managed. His other hand replaces yours where you had been holding the wound closed, eyes narrowing when he could hear the sharp inhale you took and the faint whimper that sounded out on your exhale.

“Does this mean I’ve got a hunt tomorrow?”

“Unless you plan on beating the shit out of a fence,” You try to joke, but the words get caught in your throat when the sting of the thread moving in your skin causes you to shudder. “Hold on, let me-“

“I gotcha, won’t move until you give me the go ahead.”

Ignoring how close he is to you, kneeled before you with his hands so warm against your middle, you reach for the dime bag stamped with your mark and down the four pills inside with another swig of the amber liquid.

“Okay,” You grit your teeth against the unsavory taste, the feel of the pills slipping down your throat. It was what he was waiting for, before picking the task up again.

The shabby apartment is quiet save for the harsh pattering of rain, distant booms of thunder and the even breathing of you both. The air is tense, if only just a bit, neither willing to break almost peaceful spell that had befallen after such a hectic few days and tense weeks. A crux, almost, that you found yourself teetering on with the man. One path that would lead to continuous arguing, violence and second guessing each other or one path that would lead to a better understanding of each other and allow for things to flow more smoothly.

Joel’s wiping away the blood smeared into your skin as best he can now, the end of the stitches tied neatly off and knotted so they remain secure and do their job well. Eight of them, all in all. The cut a harsh line in the soft spot of your belly, the pudge that had begun to form and stubbornly refuse to burn off even after long days of trekking and working despite a lack of nourishing food. It reminds you of how you looked before, when you were able to be the person who you had always wanted to be. But the end of the world had laid ruin to a lot, including the full shape your body had once been.

“Any others?” Joels fingers are wrapping around the bottle of whiskey, a full swig taken followed by another. You can’t help but watch as his throat bobs with the action, your body feeling the narcotics begin to kick in. Tingling sensations skating across your skin and chasing away the pain of the day, of the night, of survival. If only for a moment.

“Dunno, body feels like one big bruise.”

He sighs, shaking his head slightly as he regards the supplies sprawled on the table. Then the tremble of your left hand, the way your palm is inflamed and the cuts there you either don’t register or are ignoring.

“Let’s start with your hand then…” He’s silently thankful when you allow him to grasp it lightly and pull it into his space to look over.

It’s late, sleep evading you the second the pills began to wear off and the pain of your injury flared.

Pulled you up from the depths of your induced sleep. From the shower Joel had helped you to take, to the inspection he had done for anymore injuries. His quiet voice, the deep rasp of it had lulled you as he laid you down once the drugs and exhaustion took over.

You’re pacing in the little free space of your bedroom, in front of the window. The rain is still falling, though the storm seems to have passed. You’ve got one of the small stamps that had been molded and carved out from a bit of rubber. Tumbling the item in your good hand when you hear the floorboards groan underneath someone’s foot.

Spinning around, you see the dark outline of Joel in the doorway, filling the frame as he simply watches you. And it’s unnerving how at ease you feel seeing him there in the middle of the night, when he’s never been in your apartment longer than a few hours to discuss runs or plans. To help with rationing cards, food, or portioning out contraband.

“Y’need to rest. Antibiotics are gonna take it out of you when they kick in.” He’s quiet, voice low as he stands in his spot.

“Pain woke me up, took another pill to even it out.” You keep your voice low, not wanting to break whatever spell is still cast over your apartment. The one that allowed for you both to see each other as people, as equals. No overly harsh words spit at each other. It’s allowing you to glimpse at who he is in his own moments, in the quiet of the evening, in the dead of night when there’s no one to perform for, no one to front for.

“C���mon, lay down. Pacing is just gonna irritate the stitches.”

“You don’t control me.” You can’t help but breathe out heavily, the heft of your body and the pain throbbing in your middle making you irritable despite the atmosphere.

“Not tryna control you, tryna take care of you,” Joel is moving toward you, his frame towering over your slightly hunched over one. He’s all shadows in the darkness of the room, the streetlamps are out on your block. When you take a step back and tighten the grip around the stamp in your hand, he sighs. “Even though I know you don’t need it, least of all from me.”

“I don’t.” You can’t help but rebut. The paranoid part of your brain thinking this was all just some sort of game, some con he was pulling on you. Always on the lookout, always on alert. And it’s tiring, just as much as it is rewarding.

“Tess does, sometimes.” He tries to reason, tries to appeal to you. “I do, too.”

You think back to the way he stalls in moments beyond the walls, when he thinks no one is looking. How he bumps a fist to the center of his chest as if to dislodge something. The pressure of the world and this life settling sharp and heavy in his chest, making it hard to breathe sometimes. Your eyes linger on the scar about his temple, those on his knuckles, the cracks of his knees as he takes big steps up or around something. The palm he holds to his back and the swagger you know he doesn’t deliberately put into his steps as he treads down the hallway at the end of a shift.

“Only had my brother to take care of me. And it was only for a little while.” You confess, heart seizing at the memories of your brother. His last smile to you. You blink back to reality when there’s a tug of your hand. Joel is unfolding your fingers from around the stamp, thick fingers gently prodding at the skin beneath the gauze wrapped there.

Huh. You had been unconsciously pushing into the wound with it, mind relishing in the sting.

“Gonna tear it even deeper, doin’ that.” He’s pocketing the stamp, and you think to argue against it but as you part your lips to do so he’s swooping down to brush his nose against yours. “Lemme distract you another way, yeah?”

“You’re seriously propositioning me right now?” Your words fall short when you don’t step back from him any further. Body already shimmering at the mere suggestion of his moving against it.

“Only if you’re willing.” It’s an honest response, a genuine one. There’s no teasing.  

“What’s the point?”

“The point?” He’s pressing his forehead to yours. “The point is for you to see me, for you to know that I see you. To see that I’m tryna meet you in the middle.”

“But…why?” You whisper, unable to quell the almost giddy sensation of curiosity as you realize he’s being completely open with you right now. That he’s not playing games or trying to manipulate you, nor is he trying to prove a point like he had been the first time around.

“Because I’m tired, Cane.” He admits, “Tired of fightin’.”

“Fighting is half the fun of being paired up, get to rile you up.”

“Fun? Girl, you gotta twisted notion of fun.”

“You don’t even know the half of it.” You smirk, sure he could feel the corner of your mouth pressed to his cheek as you whisper into his ear. But you match the tone of the energy still flowing about the room, the energy flowing between you and press your lips to his in a kiss.

It’s soft, the way his lips move against yours. No nipping teeth or forceful tongue. His hands snake around your waist and pull you to him, body warm and overwhelming as you feel the way he’s already hard.

The kisses turn deeper as clothing is removed, pressed to lips, to shoulders, to the bare skin of your breasts as they are revealed to the cool air. Nipping now, against peaked nubs and exposed thighs, just as your nails leave faint marks of their own on his back, on the front of his stomach where hairs trail down to his weeping cock.

The world stills as he enters you, bodies in tune to each other and your mind blanks as he nestles himself deep and stills. Twin groans of appreciation echo in the air, loud and sharp. His lips find yours in a chaste peck, tasting the soft groan of reverence as it sounds from between them.

“Look at that, little pup just needed something nice and big to fill her up, huh?” He grinds his hips into yours, the coarse hairs surrounding him tingling where they rub at sensitive skin. “To help her calm down and quiet those thoughts in her head.”

“Sh-shut up.” Your words don’t carry any heat behind them, as your eyes clench shut and your body sings in tune with his. Your hips buck, your walls clench, and your breathing heaves. He’s got you exactly where he wants you and he knows it. You know it too, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to submit. Not completely at least, there was no fun in that. But you know that, just under the surface of newfound acquiescence, that the man reveled in the banter you shared. Because you did too.

You trail your hands down from his neck to his shoulders, unclasping them from behind him to push him up. He’s moving with you, willingly, even as you crowd against him and shift him to his back. His eyes are blown wide, pupils taken over as you glimpse them in a strike of lightning that brightens the sky.

“Gonna show me whose boss?” He taunts, even as you can feel the rapid beat of his heart where you hand rests over his chest. Grounding you as you lower yourself back onto him, the glide of him easy as his slick and your own scent the air. “Cause tha’s mighty fine with me.”

“You sure? Didn’t seem to like it all that much the other day.” You gasp as the head of his cock catches deep inside you, sending a bolt of pleasure through you body as thunder booms overhead.

“I was high outta my mind, ain’t my fault.” He grunts out as you settle flush against him. Leaning forward to press your face into the crook of his neck. Your teeth sink into the skin there, tongue tasting the salt of his sweat as you place open mouthed kisses up to his good ear.

“Everything is your fault.”

“Yeah, I suppose it is. But you seem to like this outcome, I sure as fuck do.” He circles his hips, meeting your own swivel, twitching deep inside you as he grips tightly to your hips. His fingers will leave marks, but you think for a moment that it might be glance them in the mirror until they fade. They tighten, gripping to steady you as he begins to thrust up, punching the breath from your lungs with each delicious drag of his length.

“Just this once.” You moan out, voice rounding out as you begin to flutter around him, your stomach tightening as heat and pleasure burn through you. You lean back and rest your palms on his thighs. Hips circling and grinding at a fast pace. The pad of his thumb is pressing to you, jolting you forward and breaking your rhythm momentarily. Your body sings, pleasure cresting and washing over you in waves that could drown. But you catch your breath and ride them out, eyes beginning to droop even as you feel the hot spurts of Joel’s own release paint your insides.  

It’s early, the sun barely showing signs of nearing the horizon. The deep, velvet blue of night lightening in pinks and oranges that begin to color the room and allow you to see the man you felt in your bed the entire night.

Joel is still naked, the thin sheets and coverlet covering only his lower half, allowing you a full view of him beside you. He’s breathing evenly, deeply. You had ended up with your large shirt back on, to help keep the stitches a little cleaner once you had been cleaned with a dampened rag. Something you hadn’t expected of the man, even with this new…shift in the air.

It was peaceful, the night taking a turn you hadn’t expected. And your mind ticks and tocks with the possibilities of now having a somewhat more willing Joel by your side. A guard dog that is sworn to you, should you allow him to. A person who wants to appease you and ensure your safety, in all aspects of your life now, not just as a benefit to their own.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Joel’s sudden voice catches your own even breathing, taking you off guard.

“Like what, Miller?” Recovering quickly from your introspection, you roll your eyes; sure he can feel the motion even with his back still turned to you on the other side of the bed. Of course, he had felt you admiring the muscles of his broad back, the way his shoulders were dusted with faint freckles and dotted with dark moles, much like his strong neck and arms. The narrowing of his waist down to his hips, the dimples he had there just above his firm and shapely ass. He was beautiful, though you wouldn’t admit it to him aloud. “You’re not even facing me.”

“You know what.” He rumbles, voice impossible deep and devastating with sleep that clings to him, refuses to let him go even as he begins to stir in the early hour. A shiver runs down your spine, filthy words from last night

“You’re conceited, you know that?”

“Didn’t seem to mind it last night,” He’s smirking as he rolls over to finally reveal his waking face to you. Eyes softer than you’d ever seen them, relaxed almost as he begins to come back to himself and the world. His curls are a bit wild from his sleep, from the night before when you had run your fingers through the tresses, tangled them and pulled them tight. “Tellin’ me how good I felt, how big I was. Gave me a reason to be conceited, darlin’.”

“Oh no, don’t you start with that. You may have a big dick but it don’t mean you gotta act like one.”

“Like what?” He parrots, teeth glinting as he brandishes a wolfish grin at you. You feel the corners of your mouth twitch, a smile fighting to flourish, and you purse your lips so he can’t see it. Brows furrowing, you lean up and

“You know what.” You parrot back, dodging his ducking head as he prepares to nip at you again. It’s a slow roll away and out from under him, but he allows the movement, leaning back onto his knees more to make space. “We got a trek today, want to check out the hotel and then the old bunker underneath the west end hospital.”

“Long trek.”

“Old man, if I can handle it so can you.” You slowly stand to your full height, stomach pulling as the stitches are moved about slightly. Hands over in front of you as you gauge the slight blossom of discomfort.

“Let this old man into your bed.” His hands are hovering over you, ready to catch you should you fall, ready to do whatever they could to help should you need it, should you ask him to.

“Yeah, well, figured he needed something sweet to keep him in line. What’s sweeter than a pretty little thing than me, hmm?”

“God damn, you’re insufferable.” He huffs, the bed springs groaning as he disappears from his spot behind you. You look over your shoulder to see him pulling his ragged jeans back on. He’s turned away from you but that doesn’t stop you from watching him as he does so.

“You too, Miller.” You’re shoving him toward to the kitchen, intent on him starting a serving of coffee before the day truly begins, the sun beginning to shine through the broken blinds and thin curtains as it rises above the towering wall that surrounds the zone. “Now go make some coffee, yeah?”

“Only because you asked so nicely.” He let’s the momentum of your push carry him across the threshold into the rest of the apartment. He’s smirking, you can tell by the tone of his voice but you don’t let it simmer in your chest for too long before you’re focusing on cleaning the wound and replacing the bandage over it. Dressing for another long day, but at least you’ve got a more willing guard dog by your side to accompany you outside the walls now.

Everything seems to be falling into place, tempers easing, and your power no longer being questioned but accepted. You try to shake the feeling that something bigger is wavering on the horizon, now that you and Joel have found common ground and somewhat of an understanding.

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[no-saints-around-here]

I read Quiet Afternoon and I got to thinking, it says “tip his hand and break the sole unspoken rule he had held himself to for all these years to punish you.” Does this mean this is the first time Rindo has slept with bestie? If not, what was the first time/incident that caused Rindo to sleep with airhead best friend?

Masterlist | Quiet Afternoon

ahhh this became a lot longer then I anticipated - wrote a short fic at the bottom cause I thought it would explain what happened much better than just word vomit!

‎‎

To answer the question first: no. Its not Rindo's first time, not by a long shot.

That line is more so that Rindo is a delusional and unreliable narrator when it comes to his bestie: that is delusional and unreliable on a good day, and straight up in denial on having even held hands with you, let alone touched you, on a bad one. And this is also when this boy is at his most dangerous, willing to do anything to anyone, Ran included, to prove to himself that he was your best friend and nothing more, that you were still his sweet, naive, innocent airhead who he found especially annoying.

If you squint really hard at the implications of Rindo installing a soundproof door on his first day of moving into Bonten HQ, together with how well this boy already knows your body and your patterns by the time of the events of Quiet Afternoon, you may be able to infer that its definitely not your first tango, even if Rindo insists it is (no sweat if you didn't though, it was really very, very subtle on purpose).

And no one knows this fact better than Ran, given the older Haitani was the precise reason your purple-haired Bonten friend first broke rank against his better sense.

Rindo’s breaking point came sometime during your stardom period. All started going downhill when he reluctantly allowed you to continue to perform as an idol against his judgement on the basis of just how happy it made you - it had always been hard for this baby boy to deny you anything you wanted, and fresh out of another stint in jail, the delinquent-turn-yakuza was eager to make up for his time away from you. And this was on top of the weak spot he always had for your pouting, so no surprise that he caves as soon as you started to look the slightest bit down about having to leave your little gig so quickly after starting.

One of the caveats he does put in place in exchange for indulging you is that he is now personally in charge of your security, and that the rest of your bodyguards were from Bonten. No exceptions. Absolutely does not trust your ‘agency’ or whatever other maggots that you choose to surround yourself with, and so will take it upon himself to accompany you everywhere, to stand guard outside your changing room when he absolutely couldn’t be inside with you, fly with you everywhere you go. But of course this also means that he has to take time off work to do so, and that meant convincing Mikey to let him do so. Ran finds it amusing to what length his younger brother will go to keep you by his side (cough begging and grovelling in front of Mikey), promising that you could help to launder their money and what not. Mikey honestly couldn’t care even a lick, as long as Rindo takes the work in whatever country he ends up in.

Yet for all that he has done for you, the honeymoon period lasts only a good 6 months before everything fell apart. Rindo thought he had a good handle on things, but never has he been so under-prepared when it finally strikes your best friend just how massively popular you had become in such a short period. Everywhere you went, no matter where you toured, your concerts were all full, stuffed to the brim with fans. And oh how he detested that word.

Fans. Rabid, like mad dogs. Decked out in merchandise bearing your face and name, screaming at the stage hoping for even a smudge of your attention. even coming to the concert venue early hoping to get a glimpse of you.

Scum of the earth, how dare they ask for more than getting to breathe the same air as you?

How dare they demand more?!

The resentment of your adoring masses only built up more and more in Rindo, having to watch from the sidelines as you enthusiastically shook hands and thanked your fans for your support, dancing for them and winking at them. Like you were some sort of whore putting yourself on show for the world. Rindo would never stand for this, not for his best friend, yet he still gritted his teeth; for reasons beyond him, you were enjoying this, enjoying shaking your ass and chest at the unwashed insects.

And then all hell finally broke loose upon one of your returns to Japan after another of your tours.

‎‎

‎‎

All Downhill from Here

"Let. Me. Go," Rindo hissed as he was manhandled away from the still buzzing arrival hall by a rather amused Ran, his twisting and struggling to break free from the other’s grasp to no avail. "I'll kill him. I'll fucking kill him, and then I'll kill you."

The older Haitani sighed as he continued to force his younger brother along the otherwise empty corridor. "And that is precisely why we are in this situation."

And as usual, to none of their surprise, you were at the center of it all, though your airheaded presence that Rindo’s world revolved around was nowhere in sight, having already been sent ahead to the meeting point without your best friend’s knowledge. The hallway echoed with the clicks of their shoes, joined occasionally by the buzz of machinery as they passed and the hum of air-conditioning overhead. If he had known what the day was going to bring, Ran mused, he would have proposed doing this from the start; after all, airport staff were easier to disperse and keep away compared to the hordes of fans that you attract everywhere you go, and these staff corridors were rather convenient, snaking throughout the airport and away from the public eye. 

Rindo’s cursing and swearing went in one ear and out the other as Ran continued to daydream, though the man couldn’t quite blame his unusually hot-tempered younger brother either. After all, it had been the continuous build up of months of stress, having to deal with you and your little idol gig that you insisted you wanted to keep, and this latest incident was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.

A huff as Rindo finally gave up on his failed escape, his shoulders relaxing in the armlock he had been held in for the past fifteen minutes.

Ran raised an eyebrow. “You done?”

”Yeah. Let me go.”

“You sure?”

”Fuck you, I’ll get that shitstain later.”

Which was exactly what the older of the brothers wanted to hear, Ran nodding as he released Rindo without another word. Shitstain was putting it lightly in his opinion, considering how much trouble he had caused in the span of a single minute - but it wasn’t his problem to solve. As long as Rindo wasn’t attempting to pull a gun in front of the police and the public to settle his little lover’s quarrel, Ran couldn’t quite care what happened to another nobody.

Ran jerked his chin down the corridor. “She’s two doors down to the right. Security escorted her there earlier.” The room was already demarcated as yours, what with two Bonten grunts flanking each side, but he thought it would be better to make it clear, given Rindo’s state of mind. 

His younger brother was already gone before he could finish his sentence, and all Ran received as a thank you for his hard work was the slam of the door.

Ah, siblings.

‎‎

‎‎

Rindo didn’t quite see it as lightly as Ran did. 

This past day had already been particularly hellish for him by any standard measurement. It all started with the last concert of your first tour two nights ago - he had been watching from backstage, as he always did, when your skirt had ripped during your second song. The sound of cloth tearing reached his ears even over the sound of the throbbing music. He had confirmed as much when you finally returned to him waiting for you in the dressing room during the intermission, which only sealed the suspicions that churned in his sinking gut: at just the right angle, you would have flashed the fans in the first few rows, his wretched older brother seated in the VIP box included. Even if he had made you put on a new, longer skirt, it was already too late. 

And then when he had tried to drill into you about the importance of keeping your distance from those lowlives least you catch something nasty, you hadn’t taken his concerns quite as seriously as he had hoped, laughing and beaming back at him, patting his hand reassuringly and trying to convince him that they were harmless. Strike 1.

He didn’t know what he expected, Rindo had to admit to himself; you had always been such an airhead, even since childhood when he first met you. You probably wouldn’t even have survived for so long if the younger Haitani hadn’t take you under his wing as his best friend, and the least you could do to pay him back was to listen to him. All he asked was for you to stay close to him and far away from everyone else, especially Ran.

Sure, there were times like this where Rindo would be forced to allow Ran to inhabit the same space as you - seeing as his older brother had attended your concert and similarly happened to be heading back to Bonten HQ, the three of you had to share the jet - but of all the people to turn up cheekly waving merchandise with your face and name plastered all over? Well, he did say that you were one of the best he’s seen in a while, but still. The man with the short purple hair did it on purpose, Rindo was certain, and definitely to trigger an outburst from him; if you hadn’t been present, he would have strangled Ran himself for bringing up how good you looked on stage (now he was certain Ran saw your panty flashing). Strike 2.

‎

It was without a doubt that your best friend was already rather on edge as the jet finally landed back in Tokyo. It was supposed to be a secret when you would arrive, which meant that there were fans behind barricades eagerly awaiting your appearance outside the airport. Sure, fine. You were famous, whatever, Rindo could hardly bother. But what broke his dam was a single unruly fan. One man, decked out from head to toe in merchandise spouting your name and face, who had decided for very clear, unacceptable reasons to jump the fence in an attempt to ambush you. And the vein that had been throbbing on Rindo’s forehead all day finally burst. Strike 3.

If Ran hadn’t been a second faster to grip and restrain his hand, Rindo would have shot him dead before security could grab the assailant. 

And the missed opportunity continued to haunt him despite thirty minutes having already passed and nothing having happened to you, the sheer anger he had felt in that moment surging through his veins once more as Rindo stalked down the corridor, leaving Ran to talk at his back. Sure, he was going to arrange to have that scum erased, yet the upcoming torture wasn’t enough to soothe his nerves. Because how dare he? How dare that unworthy insect you called a fan even think of laying a finger on you? 

And then the heartstopping fear that chilled him to his bones that followed - what about you?

Throwing open the door and seeing your back turned to him only reinforced his sudden onset of fear, the closing of the door behind him reverberating in his ears. You were too naive, too stupid to think beyond your next meal, but what if there was someone else in the picture? Could it be that you had laughed away his concerns earlier because someone else told you so? Could it be that you continued to indulge others because you were being influenced? Could it be?

It had to be, Rindo gulped, as you finally acknowledged him, standing from your small seat and waving eagerly. Someone must have gotten to you while he was locked away in prison, brainwashing you into abandoning him and running off with them. Or worse, with Ran.

He couldn’t hear any of the words you were speaking at him, trapped in the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind, his body numb as you tugged him over to the small comfy corner that the airport staff had set up for you. 

Nothing went in, Rindo staring blankly at you, though you seemed to have failed to notice your friend’s inaction until you tried to get his attention. 

”-n! Rin-rin!! Hello?”

The Bonten executive blinked, awakening to your curious face taking up his entire view. 

“Rin-rinnnnn.”

Rindo simply stood suddenly, forcing you to back away, though a beam quickly replaced your surprised expression. A quick glance around the room told him that it was empty of cameras, and he was certain enough that the grunts outside had ensured as much - they were, after all, the ones who would pay with their lives should the police ever become involved. “Bend over the table and pull down your skirt,” he ordered, though he didn’t wait for you to register his instruction, instead already moving to gently guide you.

He had to make sure that you knew who you belonged to, and no matter how much your best friend dreaded what he was going to do to you next, it was necessary. You couldn’t be trusted to know up from down, let alone keep yourself safe and away from those who wanted to do your harm. From those who wanted to see you separated from him.

“Okay!” You cheerfully agreed. “What are we doing?”

Needless to say, this fateful day was the start of the end of your career as an idol. You had a good run while it lasted.

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day 8 - Prompt: Doubt @wolfstarmicrofic

January Daily Series - 793 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

I need to make myself scarce, or better yet, busy.

Sirius wanted to encourage James and Regulus to spend more time together, but that wasn’t likely if he was always around. They had complicated relationships with asking for what they wanted. James put everyone else first and would worry that Sirius felt left out, while Regulus was taught to believe he didn’t deserve nice things and would no doubt feel guilty for taking James away from him.

In reality, Sirius was entirely capable and willing to “fuck right off,” as his brother so eloquently put it. He could entertain himself. He just needed a good excuse…or cover story.

Sirius pulled out his phone to check the time and noticed an unread message from Lily. The preview said, “So when do I get to meet your dog?”

Oh that’s perfect!

“You know, the weather is supposed to be nice today. We could walk along the beach?” he suggested casually. “Padfoot loves the water.”

James nodded eagerly. “We could show Regulus the Serpent Rock!”

“The what?” Regulus asked, sitting up straight.

Sirius grinned, his brother loved snakes and dragons. Leave it to James to notice the wrist tattoo and wyvern hair pin that his brother wore yesterday. The urge to cheer him on was difficult to tamp down.

As James explained the cave on the beach and the strange green, scaley rock formation inside, Sirius quickly texted Lily. Thankfully, she and Remus were available to meet at the shoreline. If all went well, he and Padfoot would sneak off with Lily and Remus, leaving the new…couple?…to sort themselves out.

When breakfast in the Inn’s dining room was over, Sirius ran upstairs to collect Padfoot and a couple of towels. Padfoot couldn’t contain himself. The moment his paws hit the beach, he was yanking at the leash. Water was his weakness. By the time Remus and Lily showed up, Padfoot was soggy and sleepy. It was the perfect time to enact part two.

Divide and conquer.

Gathering Padfoot’s leash from James, Sirius waved to Lily and Remus. “Hey, look who’s here! Why don’t you two go check out the cave while I catch-up with Lily.”

“Oh, sure! Yeah, that’s a great idea,” James said.

Regulus eyed the pair curiously, then nodded. “That’s fine. Let’s go.

Sirius stifled his laughter as James touched his brother’s shoulders and redirected him toward the cave, in the opposite direction. He grabbed Padfoot’s collar and led the way to Lily and Remus. He wasn’t allowing a repeat of yesterday.

“Oh my goodness! Is that him? Is that Padfoot?” Lily called out, hand clasped to her cheeks. “He’s so big!”

Remus offered him a sheepish look, which was unexpected. Given the colourful bruising along the skin beneath one eye, the bloke had definitely been in a row. That in and of itself drew Sirius closer. He was perpetually curious by nature, but something about Remus triggered an innate need to know that he couldn’t really explain. The man was just so bloody interesting.

“This is him,” he said, patting Padfoot’s head. “He gets a little excited with new people, so I’ll hold onto him for a bit.”

Lily stepped closer with her hand outstretched. “Hello, Padfoot.”

Padfoot’s tail slapped against Sirius’s leg as he leaned forward to sniff her hand. He was usually quite gentle around women, so long as he hadn’t grown overexcited beforehand. Sirius stroked his back soothingly and hoped he would behave.

“So, what happened to your face?” he asked, eyeing the bruise.

Lily cleared her throat. “Yes, Remus. Tell Sirius what happened to your face?”

The bloke aimed a half-hearted glare at Lily. Sirius could tell they were, in fact, old friends now that they were next to each other. Their body language alone was a dead giveaway. They were as comfortable as he and James were. That was a relief.

“Well, when we fell yesterday,” Remus began hesitantly. “Your elbow…and boot…”

Sirius’s eyes widened at the implication left hanging in the air between them. He pressed a fist to his lips and closed his eyes for a moment, imagining that fall from Remus’s perspective. Given that Sirius landed on top, then scrambled to regain his balance, pointed to one rather obvious outcome.

“Did I hurt you? I’m sorry!” Sirius gasped. He automatically moved forward, then stopped and flailed. “Wait, I don’t know what to do.”

“You could kiss it better,” Lily suggested.

Remus spluttered nonsensically, then choked, “Lily!”

“If it would help, sure,” Sirius replied, shrugging. “I don’t mind.”

Remus stared at him unblinking for a full minute in stunned silence. He appeared to be experiencing some sort of event, but Lily just stood at his side with a smug look on her face. He was very strange.

Next Part>>>

[dadcred]

okay so. ive got a lot of thoughts about usopp and his “negativity” with regards to his fight against perona during thriller bark and his subsequent timeskip character development.

keep in mind that this is based on the english dub of the anime, and there very well could be totally different implications in jpn/english subs, though tbh i’d be kinda sad if this were the case because i think there’s a lot of depth to explore (which is exactly what i’m attempting to do here.)

so the entire idea behind usopp’s immunity to perona’s negative ghosts is that he’s an inherently “negative” person, so he can’t be made “more negative” so to speak. and throughout this whole bit, they keep interchanging “negativity” with “pessimism.” ex: when zoro, franky, and sanji are running away from that fight, zoro says something like “i never thought usopp’s pessimism would come in handy.”

and i found that really interesting because i wasn’t aware until then that usopp was meant to be so extremely pessimistic apparently. yes, he’s a coward who is reluctant to face his fears (he’s not unique in this, see: the coward trio). yes, he gets anxious about the worst outcomes (tho he’s not the one actually identifying or voicing the worst case scenarios in many cases). yes, he harbors doubts about his own capabilities (arguably the only thing here unique to him). but none of this is “pessimism.” that is to say, “pessimism” is erroneously used as a synonym for “negativity” when in fact “negativity” is an incredibly broad concept under which “pessimism” is a subset. and based on negative ghosts’ actual effects on characters, we know that they do way more than just suddenly make a person a glass-half-empty kinda guy.

my thesis here is that the term that better describes the kind of negativity that the ghosts impose on people is “depression,” in which case, the only way usopp can be immune is if he’s already depressed. and substituting that with “pessimism” instead allows us as the audience to be more okay with the fact that the narrative never goes back and interrogates what is a serious claim of a character’s mental health. i’m not bothered by this—it’s a shounen anime after all—but i DO love exploring this line of thought because of the insight it provides on usopp’s character.

first, let’s go back to what perona’s negative ghosts actually do. their effect has been described as “draining your will to live” and “making your heart empty”. when characters get hit by a negative ghost, they’ll lose all their drive and say things like “i’m no better than a dog,” “i just want to be a clam” and stuff like that (i’m paraphrasing). and neither those descriptions nor effects remotely resemble “pessimism.” having little to no will to live or just do much of anything, feeling empty and hopeless, having self esteem issues, wanting to erase the complexities of your humanity to exist as a base organism: those are all textbook symptoms of depression.

meaning, in order for usopp to be completelt immune to the negative ghosts, he doesn’t just have to be a pessimist. he’d have to have little to no willpower or motivation. he’d have to think so lowly of himself that it’s impossible to hate himself further. and water 7 showed us a glimpse of that: we know he has ambition—he wants to become a brave warrior of the sea—but we also know after water 7 that, compared to the other straw hats, he views his ambition as a nice-to-have pipe dream and not one that he has what it takes to achieve.

but thriller bark is implying this runs much much deeper than just self doubt that sprang up over the course of his travels with the straw hats. he’d have to be so empty inside that there’s no hope left for the ghosts to feed on.

and while that might seem overexaggerated for the purposes of this ability because, again, it’s a shounen anime and these implications start feeling uncomfortable the more you consider them, there is one line that affirms that the above really might all be true about usopp: when everyone realizes usopp is immune to the ghosts, zoro, in disbelief, asks, “is his heart really that empty?”

personally, i don’t think there’s any sugarcoating that. (and tbh between this and zoro later ruminating on how usopp’s depression came in handy in a fight, i’m glad at least one character acknowledged that that’s a little fucked up and worrying actually.)

so yeah, usopp’s depressed! and on god, i didn’t think it was possible to love him anymore than i do, but this bit of thriller bark made me love him infinitely more because goddamn that’s so relatable. we constantly have these narratives of “wow we never knew xyz was depressed they never let on” and i personally thunk that’s bullshit because unless someone is exhibiting a completely nonfunctional lifestyle, we assume that they can’t really be that depressed. as a high functioning person w anxiety/depression/adhd/ptsd, i was denied diagnosis and treatment for years bc i wasnt glued to my bed, getting bad grades, isolated, and/or on the verge of offing myself. this isn’t the main point i’m trying to make as much as it is a tangent, but seeing a character like usopp, who i at the very least consider the heart of the straw hats, also be depressed guy just tryna stay afloat everyday despite all the nothingness and self hate inside made my heart really full.

which then brings me to post timeskip, where his development in this realm is addressed outright in that battle in fishman island arc against the little hole digging gremlin. that guy consistently taunts usopp with everything usopp once harbored major insecurities about, and usopp not only remains unfazed, but explicitly refutes those taunts by saying that stuff no longer bothers him. the idea being that he gained a lot of self confidence over those two years. and as all my mentally ill lads know, that’s not fuckin easy when your brain’s been working against you for so long. self confidence is the result of developing and practicing a lot of healthy coping mechanisms to manage and live with your depression.

now i hesitate to credit oda and the shounen genre in general with having meant all this to be as deep as i’m interpreting it. but intentional or not, i’m overwhelmed with emotions whenever i consider usopp’s character because who gives a shit about his physical strength and abilities and whether or not they’re on par with everyone else’s when his real buff is hard earned mental fortitude and self confidence??

all of that is to say, i have a lot of love for usopp and i guess most people arent into shounen for the complexities of character writing, but personally i think your taste is questionable at best if this bit about usopp’s character doesn’t intrigue and impress you in any way. that’s all.

[elvisabutler]

quiet on the set: chapter two

fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: t-ish. pairing: elvis presley x original female character word count: 4369 warnings: mild slut shaming. complicated relationships with fathers. complicated relationships with mothers. period typical misogyny. arguments between a director and their leading man. slapping. getting into personal space without permission. disagreeing. mild implications for submissive elvis. author’s note: so hi y'all welcome to the second part of quiet on the set. there's not a whole lot to be said beyond me being thankful to those of you all who have read this because i know hollywood era elvis can be a bit of a mixed bag for people/kind of gets lost in the shuffle of people preferring 70s/big daddy elvis and baby/army elvis. but i've been enamoured with this concept since it's original whisperings and have- well to put it delicately between my discord wives, christi, marina and birdy and my own selfish desires/explanations of this fic to some people ( cough, cough madi ) have had this fic take on a life of its own. which is to say i hope y'all like this and allow me to play a little bit fast and loose with some elements of hollywood history. also enjoy my brief foray into basically writing robert evans somewhat as how he was portrayed in paramount plus's the offer, he'll come up later on too. also. this can be seen as austin elvis or elvis himself, as @precious-little-scoundrel's moodboard implies but i did truly write this i feel with elvis himself in mind.

"Elvis Presley. Are you- have you gone entirely insane? Why on Earth would you want him to play Stanley? Why would you want him near this film at all? The man's only known for-" Her father starts before she cuts him off with a bit of a huff. 

"For song and dance formulaic movies, yes yes, I know, father. I know that he's known for movies that are meant to be enjoyed by people who’d rather listen to someone sing and dance and prance around like a prized show dog.” Catherine tries to agree with Alfred, a fact that threatens to eat her up inside but she knows as well as her mother knows that sometimes it’s best to tempt him with honey rather than spitting pure, unfiltered vinegar. “If I remember right- that’s actually what you wish all actors could be: little show dogs you can put up and tell to do something that is easily achievable. Sit and look pretty?”

“You have seen some of them, Catherine, it’s not- You know as well as I do you’ve agreed with me on several sets. Your mother has as well.” The look he gives her would- in another time and another place- normally make her buckle just a bit but she can’t help the way she rolls her eyes at it in this moment. 

“That is not the point. In fact, you are trying to move away from the point I’m trying to make. He is the one I want. He’s Southern, he has the bulk, he has the look and aura and if I’m going to make this, I truly think he’d be perfect. Absolutely phenomenal in this role.”

She hears her father scoff and purse his lips. “The talent Catherine, the talent you’ve been craving for your actors to have? Does he have that, hm? Does he leap off the screen the way you want you actors to? Or are you thinking with your-” 

“My what? My brain? The thing I inherited from you and mother? Yes, yes, I do believe that’s the exact thing I’ve been thinking with. That’s the exact thing that’s watched his films and can tell there’s something underneath the songs. Wild in the Country, Follow that Dream, Flaming Star, King Creole. I just know there’s something there, there’s an actor the likes of Brando and Newman and Bogie in there, he just needs the right script and director.” Catherine’s brow furrows just slightly. “Tennessee's words are perfect for the man and I can convince him to let me do it. Convince him this is the perfect man to cast.”

“The perfect man- Catherine, the antics that follow him alone would be an embarrassment. A flurry of girls on and off of the set, making a fool and mockery of you and anyone else trying to do their jobs.” He shakes his head. “You’d throw your efforts down the drain. He wouldn’t be professional and your plan would be in shambles. I’d likely have to come pick up the pieces.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to!” Her voice rises an octave and very nearly becomes a shout at the insinuation. “You- I would be able to control the situation.”

The only response he gives her is his eyebrows raised and Catherine swears she sees red. She’s older now, thirty years old and her father still has her as this twenty year old in his mind. This twenty something he’d ask to finish up his films so her mother and him could go off to another set or another country. It would always turn out beautifully and Catherine would wait to see her name in the credits, wait to see her name in those credits like she would see her mothers and yet every time she was let down. Every single time she’d watch as names drifted on by and not a single one was hers. The only Hitchcock on the screen was Alfred, not Catherine. She squares her shoulders and uses the height her heels give her to tower just barely over her father. “Elvis Presley is my Stanley Kowalski, Alfred. I do not care what the man does on the set as long as he does his job and I will ensure he does. This will not run over budget, it will not have melodrama attached to it. It is simply going to be a motion picture where Mr. Presley can show the world that perhaps he can act and not just sing and dance. It’s going to be a motion picture that you refused to do but that I wanted to do. You can refrain from giving me permission but that will not stop me from having him on my set acting against Ms. Wood. It is not going to-”

Her father tilts his head for a moment before exhaling, shaking his head in disapproval. “If that’s what you want. If that’s what you see as your vision. I expect that you will not whine to me if something goes wrong. You will have made your bed and you would need to lay in it. Is that clear?”

“Crystal.” The word is spat out before Catherine turns and leaves the room, her heels clacking against the floor.

Tap tap tap. Elvis faintly hears a set of heels tap against the floor, unaware of who their owner is- unaware that Catherine is making her way toward him- too preoccupied with the blonde in front of him, all fluttering eyelashes and rosy cheeks. She's a professional he can tell, but even the most professional of women can't help but smile and laugh at his charm. Can't help but smile and laugh at his attention because he's Elvis Presley, dreamboat, all-American male. 

She clears her throat behind him and he turns around ready to give her a greeting his mama'd be proud of only to have Catherine beat him to the punch by spewing venom the likes of which he hasn't seen come off of a woman's tongue directed at him since- hell- maybe Anita?

"Mr. Presley, I believe you're distracting her from doing her job. I know it must be hard to rein in that ego and charm and sexual desire but that wasn't what I hired you for, now was it. I believe I told you I wanted an actor? Not a sex-addled man."

His eyebrows practically go up to his hairline before he shakes his head and places a hand on her shoulder. "Now, Princess, there's plenty to go 'round for everyone, I won't be causin' any problems."

"I like having eye candy around as much as the next person, Cat. But Elvis Presley. That's like asking to have Brando without the Oscar. Without the draw he still has. You're asking for him to parade about with girls, drag his little posse and that manager of his around, and for what? I'll give you that you'll have a star who knows his lines. But honey, we both know he's box office poison and a has-been in music and films. I know I can handle that, but I don't think you can." Bob's words are gentler than her father's and yet Catherine eyes still tighten at them as she takes a sip of her wine.

"Oh? I believe I can because I don't run a whole studio. I just direct. Much easier for me to survive a box office poisoning with a job intact. Besides you like me enough to have your producers want me as a director." She retorts smiling a fake smile she knows they're both incredibly familiar with. 

"I don't know. When you're directing decisions include this, I might be rethinking that. Hitchcock name or not." He pauses. "With a smile like that, you are wasted behind the camera."

"Save your flattery for someone you aren't calling crazy, Evans." Catherine sighs and bites the inside of her cheek. "It's not for his looks, you know I'm not that sort of-"

He cuts her off. "Woman? Director? Normally? Of course not, moral paragon out to remind me I should do better. With a man like him? When you've been lonely for-"

It's Catherine’s turn to cut him off with a light slap to his arm. "Robert!"

Robert Evans raises his eyebrow and smirks while pointing at Catherine. “Oh you- you’ve thought about it, haven’t you?”

“A woman never tells her secrets,” she responds with a blank face before rolling her eyes as he starts to laugh harder than he already had been.

The problem, Catherine figures, is that for all Elvis and his career are on the decline, he's still a very attractive man. A man who knows how to charm a woman - if the line of girls she can say have slept with him is any indication. Sure her father and Robert had both warned her about the possibility of him having said line of girls running behind him. But it's another thing to see it right in front of her face. It's another thing to have him mock her with these women. She's heard so much about his professionalism on the job that to see this in front of her makes her think just maybe she might have made a mistake. 

He was the wrong choice and she let herself get swept away in the visuals and how he sounded across the table from her when he read for her. There was something there. She's seen it in other films of his and she saw it when he sat across the table reading his lines as if his life depended on it; which if she’s being entirely honest, perhaps it somewhat did. Perhaps he knew she held his career in her hands. She’s heard whispers of the films his manager has him preparing for and she knows this is his last shot at anything truly good. The last shot at something that might stand the test of time and might turn everything around for him. The only sure bet in Hollywood might have been a Presley picture but nowadays the only sure thing when it comes to them is that they’ll do poorly. Box office poison. But Catherine thinks she can handle it. Thinks that it’s half-way what people expect from her anyway. Still, she had trusted him to be professional and keep his womanizing ways to, at the very least, a minimum on her set and yet it hasn’t even been a week of costume tests and making sure everything would be going smoothly and he’s already charming the production team. What was next? A starlet waltzing in with him as he shows her around the lot and the production while her eyes somehow still have stars in them? He’s a has-been but he’s still pretty, even with just a little more bulk than he used to have when he was younger. He can still bring them in- charm them and make them smile and giggle and say “oh Elvis” like he’s younger and actually their age. 

Except that’s what she wanted isn’t it? She wanted the man you could see somehow might have charmed Stella before showing his true colors. She wanted a man you could see might be able to keep Stella and get her pregnant and- was capable of unspeakable things. Someone who could be capable of unspeakable things but had a face that might make you think he wouldn’t. Stanley has sheer, raw animal magnetism and Elvis has it hidden right underneath that exterior. She heard it in his reading of the lines, she’s seen it on camera for herself. She knows that it’s there but she needs it on the screen, she needs it to be filmed and not flaunted in front of her. 

She ought to have a talk with him, she thinks. Ms. Wood is due on set today after a little scheduling mixup and she has to tell Elvis- no, Mr. Presley that ahead of time. She knows they had a dalliance once upon a time but she’s also heard how she tried to teach him how to act, a few lessons here or there. If anyone asked Catherine, she likes to think they did him a world of good in trying to harness some of his raw talent. Though she wouldn’t admit it to his face or really anyone’s face if she’s being honest. Truthfully she’s been wanting to work with Natalie for quite a while. This opportunity presented itself and felt almost serendipitous. A leading lady very enraptured with her significant other who her leading man knew once upon a time. What could go wrong? 

As it turns out from the way Elvis nearly opens the door on Catherine’s face as she tries to leave her office- a lot could go wrong. 

“Natalie. That’s my Blanche?” Elvis’s temper is barely being kept in check, some sense of professionalism and decorum and his mother’s way of teaching him to be a good Southern gentleman stopping him from bellowing at the top of his lungs. 

Catherine feels her eye twitch just slightly at the way she can hear his anger simmering. It reminds her a bit of her own simmering beneath the surface at any given moment. He can’t blow up any more than she can in this moment, or so she hopes. “Your Blanche? Since when have you become a director? Or a producer, Mr. Presley? She’s my Blanche, yes. Is that a problem?”

“You know damn well it is!” His voice ticks up just a bit almost yelling but not quite as he shuts the door behind them, knowing it’ll be all over the tabloids if some errant person caught them arguing in the hallway. “Everyone knows we- I know her! She knows me! You had to have known that, Princess.”

“Must you call me that infernal nickname,” Catherine spits out, using the height her heels give her to try and seem as tall as Elvis is, making sure he knows he can’t intimidate her. “"Not everything revolves around you, Mr. Presley. Ms. Wood has always wanted to play Blanche and-" 

He holds up a finger and she can’t help but glare at it over the rims of her glasses. "Cut the horseshit. Somehow ya get Natalie goddamn Wood and it doesn't get whispered 'round town. That’s a dirty goddamn trick" 

“A trick!” Catherine can’t help the way she practically squawks out the two words. "I did it for you! Is that what you want to hear? That I figured you'd appreciate a friendly face who knows you? You are an incorrigible and  ignorant little boy masquerading as a man." 

"Then why did you hire me, Princess? Lil’ charity case for Hitchcock's daughter? Takin' in poor lil’ Elvis Presley?" Elvis mocks, his voice gaining the faintest hint of an airy English lilt. 

“Do you truly think that- I reiterate Mr. Presley, my world- the world does not revolve around you. Your little gang may treat you as the sun and whatever girl you currently have as the moon, but I am not them! I have- This had- I only wanted to help you. You were as nervous as a little boy in your audition. I’d have thought I was talking to a 21 year old version of you. I’d have thought he was auditioning for my film, not a 32 year old! She is a friendly face in a sea of unfamiliar ones on a film set that is of far higher caliber than any of the other ones you’ve ever been on.” Catherine doesn’t realize how her chest has started to heave in sheer aggravation. 

"That's the problem, Princess. I haven't- haven't talked to her since- God, West Side Story, ya know that musical she did. And you talkin' 'bout how Elia recommended her- the hell else is that supposed to make me feel?" His own chest is heaving a little in frustration, here she is in front of him looking every bit the professional he's beginning to truly realize she is and looking so put together like every starlet and every star he's ever seen despite her own chest heaving. It reminds him that's not what he's gotten to enjoy. Sure he's been a star but not like she's dealt with, not like Natalie's been since Rebel with Jimmy Dean. It sends another rush of fury and embarrassment through him. "I'll tell ya how. Like ya cast me out of your own amusement. Wanna see if those acting lessons she tried to give me meant anything."

"Are you- I knew you thought highly of yourself but are you joking with me right now? Why on God's Green Earth would I jeopardize my career over casting you to amuse myself. Why would I jeopardize ever getting to work in this town, with or without my father's assistance, ever again? Do you hear yourself?" She can't help the way she pulls herself to her full height, not reaching Elvis's but still managing to make herself as large as she can. Her hand moves to push him square in the chest. "I thought she would put you at ease. They didn't want me to cast her, said she had a better film to do than this. But Elia and Tennessee and myself all intervened. I got you Ms. Wood to help you. For heaven's sake, that's everything I've been doing."

"I didn't ask ya to! I-I can- I can do it m'self." He snarls, grabbing at her wrist. His stutter betraying him. "Don't- I don't n-need your pity."

“Get your hand off of me, Mr. Presley!” She tries to wrench her hand away from his grip before he lets go. "My pity? That's- you think this madness you are going to wreak on my set is something I'm willingly taking on because I pity you? You are the most self centered-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, Hitchcock." He hisses, moving to crowd himself into her space once more. 

"Oh! Oh he remembers I have a name and not a little nickname he so graciously gave me! Brava, Mr. Presley! Perhaps you could remember that I am your-"

"Director, I know. Some fuckin' one ya are. Can't tell ya actors a direction they need to take." His hand moves to his chest, marveling in just how much her shove had hurt. "Or is it jus' me ya don't wanna help."

It's that exact moment that Catherine realizes just what might be one of the complications she hadn't foreseen when working with Elvis Presley. Truthfully the idea hadn't even occurred to her in all her arguments with herself and with others. Was Elvis someone who thrived under praise? Under being told what to do by someone he saw to be in a position of power over him? Did he truly need someone to direct him? The irony of it all, the irony of a man who commanded- or controlled a group of friends and compatriots called the Memphis Mafia needing someone to tell him what to do? From what she had known- heard- he bristled under ideas from those inside his circle and yet perhaps that was the key. To be from outside and not on the inside.

"I didn't know I was speaking to a child, Mr. Presley. Do I need to tell you exactly where to stand? How to compose your face into something other than a charming little smirk? How to appear menacing for an audience who needs to forget you're Elvis Presley? Would you like me to hold your hand?" Catherine knows her tone is judgmental, knows how her accent thickens and quite honestly she thinks it has taken on what she would like to argue is that of a school matron. 

Elvis’s face morphs into something that raises a flag for Catherine, makes her think of what she’s been envisioning when it comes to Stanley. This is a man she should fear and yet in this moment she knows it’s Elvis and he’s a good Southern gentleman, he wouldn’t hurt or hit her. “Listen here- I don’t need ya patronizing me, Princess. I’m a grown man who doesn’t- I don’t need any of that. I know how to do my job.”

“You know how to play Elvis Presley.” Catherine retorts, watching as he takes a step towards her as she moves back. “I don’t need Elvis Presley.” 

“You’re not gonna get him.” His words are practically growled out and Catherine raises a singular eyebrow as he continues. “You’re gonna get what ya cast me for. I just want to know what ya want me to do. Want t’know I’m doin’ it correctly since ya so certain I can do it.”

Catherine manages to keep herself from saying the first words that come to her mind and  instead just stares down Elvis, almost challenging him to say more. He’s not wrong with what he says, that she’s certain he can do it. She’s so certain he can act better than most of his films have allowed him to show. It’s- It’s just that she has to coax it out of him, foster his talent and then she can show the world what she can see beyond his sparkling eyes and crooked smile. At his continued silence, her lips curl up into a bit of a sneer as she tilts her head just so that she’s looking at him over the rim of her glasses.

“Mr. Presley, do I look like your mother? Only existing to praise you for breathing?” 

Elvis physically recoils at the words and Catherine realizes in that exact moment that perhaps it was an unwise choice of words. An unwise response, but it can’t be undone. The words have already left her mouth and already done their damage. After a second she sees his jaw clench and flex before he eyes her up and down. “My mama’d have smacked you for that, and I oughta.”

Catherine can’t help the way her eyes drift down Elvis’s body, taking in how tense he looks minus a slight jiggle to his leg. He’s holding back and actually stopping himself. For all he’s being an uncouth cad at the moment there’s a part of him that realizes, as much as his mother might have wanted to hit her for saying that, he can’t. He won’t because of some Southern gentleman manners. It almost makes her laugh but she refrains and manages to move closer to him, mocking just that little bit more. 

“You didn’t answer, Mr. Presley. Do I look like your mother? Does the woman you’ve decided to call Princess look like your mother? Should I tell you that you’re doing so well? If I had known you needed that I wouldn’t-”

“Goddammit, woman!” The shout that comes from Elvis has Catherine choking on her words in shock. The boom of his voice so close to her reminds her that she is dealing with a man who, other than acting, sings for a living. The sheer anger she feels radiating off of him should terrify her, but she’s never been one to back down unless she truly wants to. No, this has her mouth gaping open just slightly as he speaks, his anger still palpable.“Don’t fuckin’- I- Just because you’re my director ya can’t just- say things like that. There ain’t nothin’ wrong wit’ wantin’ ya to just tell me if ‘m doin’ somethin’ right.”

There isn’t and yet the fact that Elvis is bringing it up in such a way has her on edge. It’s almost as if he wants to force her to do it. It makes her want to make him beg for her to give him direction. She doesn’t think she will, but perhaps it would teach him a lesson about coming onto sets and proving every one of his naysayers right. Catherine is so in her head that she doesn’t grasp how Elvis has crowded her against a wall until she realizes they’ve been walking around her office to the point where she ran out of room to walk backward. Indeed she only registers it when she feels the press of the wall against her back and looks at Elvis to see him glance at the wall and smirk. He has the audacity to smirk at putting her in this position. She sees his mouth start to open and before she realizes what she’s doing she hears what she’s done.

Smack. 

Elvis immediately backs off and nearly collides into her desk. If she wasn’t feeling so angry, if the rush of aggravation and annoyance wasn’t coursing through her veins she’d have thought it was funny how it happens. It almost would have been fitting in one of Elvis’s films. No, instead she moves to stand up straight- her hands dusting imaginary lint off her clothes- and starts to walk to the door, her heels clicking against the floor. It’s only when she’s at the door, her hand poised to open it that she turns around to see a still stunned Elvis leaning against her desk. 

“Prove you can do something right, Mr. Presley. Prove that this means as much as it should to you and maybe I’ll have a kind word for you. And it’s Ms. Hitchcock to you, not Princess.”

The door opening and slamming shut as her heels clicking gets farther and farther away finally yanks Elvis out of his stupor as his hand moves to rub at his stinging cheek.It shouldn’t excite him in the slightest and yet he feels a tightness in his pants that he’s choosing not to dwell on as he stands up and jiggles his leg, adjusting the fabric as he does. 

“Stuck up Princess Hitchcock,” he mutters as he opens the door, checking to see if anyone sees him leaving the room. “Actin’ like she knows- She wants me to show her, fine, I-I’ll show her. Got this part for a reason and I ain’t lettin’ her ruin it.”

It’s only as he’s about to head to the actual set that he pauses and says three simple words before opening the door, a charming smile on his face. “She slapped me.”

taglist: @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @precious-little-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows, @araxw, @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24, @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @kendralavon7, @chasingwildflowers, @notstefaniepresley, @wanderingelvis, @kxnnxy, @powerofelvis, @stylespresleyhearted, @be-my-ally, @steph-speaks, @burninlovebutler, @headfullofpresley if you don’t want to be tagged for this series, tell me, i just copied from one of my other elvis fics/took from the last tags i kind of had for the last chapter. but also if you do, give me a heads up. i'll try to get to the tags that didn't work within the next day unless y'all find it first.

[apollodarling-writes]

Can we have a killing Worshipper Levi fic? Like maybe we had the chance to because he left a knife out or something and when he noticed we had it he was shocked but before he could do anything we stabbed it into him right in the stomach and then we pulled out and stabbed him in the heart. How would that end and play out?

KILLING YAN! WORSHIPPER LEVI

tws: murder, gore, angst, brief noncon implications, depression, trauma mentions, kidnapping, violence, CHARACTER DEATH, gaslighting, mentions of stalking, LOW EFFORT!!!, body mutilation, victim blaming, vomit, its prolly shitty ngl

How long has it been since Levi had taken you? You weren't sure. You could feel yourself leaning into his affections the longer you stayed and the thought was enough for you to be disgusted with yourself. How had things gone this way?

You were ripped away from your career and stayed locked in his home, a chain around your ankle that allowed you to get to where you needed to go, but didn't give you enough slack to get to his office. You were almost certain the key was in there. Or maybe it was on his person. You weren't sure.

You learned to behave, becoming docile and obedient, almost like he'd taken in a stray dog. You cleaned his cabin, made sure his clothes were clean and folded the way he liked, and made sure there was a hot meal ready for him when he returned home. It's not as if he was truly awful to you... he was just a little creepy.

The excessive staring and the way he looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky, or like you were God herself, was a little off-putting... but it was tolerable. You didn't mind how he'd coddle you or take care of all your needs. You don't have to work anymore and you never have to worry about bills ever again. So, maybe it was alright to stay here...

No, you firmly tell yourself. He's killed so many people.

If I don't escape for myself, then I have to escape for Erwin, Armin, Jean, and all the others he's killed...

You glance around the kitchen. Surely, there's something you can use. You'd behaved since your last...

"[Name]. Put it down. I'm only going to tell you once."

"Or what? Or you'll hurt me? Kill me?" You'd scoffed at him, disbelieving that he'd lay a finger on you. Oh, how wrong you were.

Levi was quick to disarm you, twisting your arm and snapping it at the elbow. You remember the shrill scream that erupted from your throat, guttural and utterly pained. He'd dropped you to your ass, mounting you and snapping your other arm.

Levi was quick to shove his fingers into your mouth, a dark look in his eyes that made you think twice about biting his fingers. He made haste, pulling down your undergarments and throwing your legs over his shoulder, whispering apologies and sweet nothings.

"If you'd just listen... I-I'd take such good care of you, pretty- nnggh!-"

You hadn't realized that you were crying until the fog in your mind had cleared, a throbbing phantom pain in each arm. You shuddered, feeling bile rise to the back of your throat, and rushed to the bathroom. You rinsed the inside of your mouth with cool water after you'd hurled your guts up, and rushed back to the kitchen.

There, sitting practically gifted wrapped in the knife block, were several kitchen knives. You glanced at the clock- there was about an hour before Levi returned home. If you thought hard enough, planned appropriately, you'd be able to make it out. So, you continued making dinner so as to not raise suspicion, making a dish he'd made quite often when you were locked in the cage in the farthest corner of his cellar.

You'd set the table, the soup steaming, and placed a cup of tea beside his meal, waiting patiently for him to return. It seemed luck was on your side tonight, as the moment you'd sat down, Levi had walked through the front door.

"I'm home, darling." The short man says, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips when he notices what you'd prepared for dinner. You stand, removing his coat and placing it on the hook as he removes his shoes.

"How was work?" You ask. As you were trained to.

Levi takes his seat, placing a napkin in the collar of his shirt, and searches for the salt and pepper.

"Ah, I-I'm sorry. I forgot to bring the salt and pepper." You stand, making your way to the kitchen and discreetly look back at Levi.

Good. He's not looking...

You quickly and quietly take the smallest knife from the block, shoving it in the back of your sweatpants as you turn and grab the salt and pepper. Rushing back to the dining room, you place both in front of him and take your seat once more. The two of you eat, Levi yapping on and on about things that you had no interest in, but for the sake of maintaining your cover, you pretended you cared.

"-and then Eren stormed off. Can you believe that? After all I do for you, he has the gall to tell me that the way I love you isn't healthy... What concerns me most is how he managed to find out."

"Well, for what it's worth, Levi... I think..." You swallow thickly, the words stuck at the back of your throat as you keep your gaze on the bowl in front of you. "I think I'm starting to understand why you did it."

Levi's eyes widen a fraction, relief softening his features. It was almost enough to make your heart skip a beat. Almost. "You- You do?"

You nod, covering up a smirk with a shy glance in his direction. Levi liked obedience- you'd learned that much- but what he loved even more was sugar coated words.

"It's obvious you love me... Maybe not in the way the next person would, but you take care of me." Your eyes meet his, a small smile tugging at your lips. "And I'm coming around to it. I think... I think I'm slowly starting to reciprocate your affections."

Your hand reaches over, shaking ever so slightly, but just before you place your hand atop his own, you pull away.

"It's true that you've done things to me that'll stay with me for life, and even now they still haunt me... but, it was just because you love me, right? You just wanted me to understand that you know what's best for me." You sniffle, tears burning your eyes, and hastily wipe them away. Levi's face drops as he notices your tears, hurriedly making his way over to you and pulls you into his arms.

"I'm sorry. You know I never liked hurting you... I just- I just wanted you to understand. A-And now that you do, I won't have to do it anymore, right?" You nod against his chest, pulling away slightly.

"Can I... Can I try something Levi?" You bite your lip, eyes trailing to his own. “If it's okay with you… I’d like to try kissing you myself.”

Levi’s eyes light up, eagerly nodding his head. You hesitantly lean forward, pressing your lips to his, the man’s breath catching in his throat. His fingers shakily reach to cup your cheeks, giving you room to place one hand on his chest as the other snakes behind your back and pulls the knife from the hem of your sweatpants. 

With a quick snap of the wrist, you lodge the knife in his jugular, warm blood rushing from the gash as you hastily remove your lips from his and repeat the action twice. You watch as his hands fumble to cover the wound, and as heartbreak and betrayal flash through his eyes. 

“[N-Name-]” He gurgles, stumbling back into the dining table. Crimson spurts down his pristine button-up as he desperately tries to get air in his lungs, hands reaching out to you as he falls to his knees. You’re quick to back away, senses on high-alert.

“You didn’t really think I’d ever come to love you, did you?” You scoff. “After everything you put me through, everything you forced on me, everyone you killed… I’d be a damn idiot to fall in love with you.”

He tears up, the crystalline droplets quick to carve trails down his cheeks, mixing with the blood staining his hands and throat. You watch as his eyes struggle to stay open, a sick sense of glee and pride filling your chest.

“I-I-” Levi gurgles, blood dribbling down his lips. You grimace at the sight. “I really did love you. May-Maybe in our next lives I can…love you properly.”

With that, his body falls to the floor, head bouncing against the wood as a pool of blood begins to form around him.

You gaze at him for a moment. 

“...Maybe.”

[antimonyandthyme]

martian time travel au pt. 3

warnings: discussion of character death, heavy implications

if you’ve read pt. 2, this expands on that

Mark said, unprompted one day, “I always thought I’d be the first to go.”

It nearly spilled out of Sebastian then. I’ve known for awhile. But he held his tongue. Waited for Mark to continue.

“I had a whole plan too.”

Sebastian faltered. “So did I,” he said. Except thirty years ago it’d seemed easier. He had a list of all the things he needed to remind Mark to do when he was gone. Eat breakfast. Walk the dogs. Go outside, enjoy the sunshine. Smile. Life is beautiful. You’re alive.

But faced now with Mark’s bald-faced grief Sebastian couldn’t dredge up any words that wouldn’t seem useless.

So he said instead, “What plan did you have in mind?”

“I’d give you one last kiss,” Mark said. “And right when I saw the light, and knew it was time to go, I’d pull you down, and I’d say—”

“Say what,” Sebastian demanded. “What, Mark?”

“You know you were an asshole in 2013 right? And that’d be it.”

The corners of Sebastian’s mouth were defying gravity. He couldn’t help it, the giggle that followed. Then the full belly laughter that crept up and out of his throat. Mark’s eyes were so crinkled they seemed to be made entirely out of  laugh lines. Beloved, every single one of them. Sebastian’s counted and memorized the feel of each one.

“I’ve got to hand it to you,” Sebastian said. “That’s a good plan if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Yeah,” Mark said. He pressed his lips to the papery skin above Sebastian’s knuckles. “Leave it to you to beat me to it, all over again.”

 --

 Secrets between them were a thing of the past. There was a time when Sebastian hoarded his love inside the folds of his heart because it’d seemed too big of a thing to release into the world. The exact hue of red of Ferrari was faded from his memory now, but Sebastian remembered the dredges of 2019 clearly. Mark reaching through time to find him and offer comfort, breathe life back into his collapsed lungs. The same way he was trying to do so now, except Sebastian’s lungs were a little too tired.

Sebastian had kept his lips sealed tight then, even though the I love you had threatened to singe him alive. Now he’s said those words a hundred times. A thousand times. A hundred thousand times.

No secrets. Save for his knowledge of some time in the future, where the longing would send Mark looking for a Sebastian some thirty years younger.

“Listen,” he said. “Mark.”

Mark was in the middle of flicking through the movie they’d be watching tonight. “I’m listening,” he said.

Sebastian swallowed, tried again. “Listen.”

Mark kept very still. His entire body was tuned toward Sebastian, like the arrow point of a returning migrating flock of birds, searching for home. “I’m listening,” he said again.

Don’t go looking for me. Don’t go making yourself sad. You hear me?

Sebastian’s lip wobbled. “I love you,” he said for the hundred-thousand-and-oneth time.

 --

 Every evening Mark would take him out, and they’d watch the sunset from the back porch. There weren’t enough sunsets to watch together, but Sebastian took comfort that he’d managed to immortalize at least one, woven into the handmade blanket that now covered both their knobbly knees.

It kept Sebastian warm, even through the coughing fit.

Mark’s hand was on his back, palm so solid it gave Sebastian the strength to re-stack his spine. It took awhile for Sebastian to realize Mark’s hand was shaking.

“It isn’t fair,” Mark said.

Sebastian leaned into Mark’s chest, out of breath. He recognized this tone. At his most helpless of moments, Mark was prone to lamentations. Sebastian allowed it, with the wisdom and the clarity of someone who recognized that if their positions were switched, he’d be prone to much worse. “So it isn’t.”

“There isn’t enough time.”

Time. Their once friend now turned enemy. Sebastian shook his head. “Don’t go looking for time where you shouldn’t.”

“Maybe if I went back.”

“What would you change?” Sebastian asked. With all the power he had left in his fingers, he curled them tight around Mark’s hand, willed him to understand.

Mark was quiet for a long time. Then, “Nothing,” he said. It was dark out now, so Sebastian couldn’t see Mark’s face. He could hear the resigned smile, however. “I’d change nothing.”

“There you go,” Sebastian said, satisfied. It was going to have to be enough.

 --

 “If we hadn’t jumped back, the first time,” Sebastian said. His words were coming out weaker. Mark’s hand was holding his. Sebastian was relieved that it would be the last touch he knew. “If you hadn’t given me that note—” You deserve it all. I’m proud of you. I love you. “—do you think we would have found each other?”

Mark swept his thumb across Sebastian’s knuckles. Over and over again, like he was imbuing a blessing into Sebastian’s very bones. Sebastian was warm all over.

“Of course you’d go thinking about differing timelines now,” Mark said, exasperated and fond and so full of love.

“Can’t help it,” Sebastian mumbled. “Am sleepy.”

They sat together for awhile.

“I would have found you,” Mark said. There it was, the light. Sebastian couldn’t help but walk towards it. “I promise, I would’ve found you anyway. Any place, any time. I would find you.”

Sebastian thought about fennel bulbs and an older Mark piercing through the fabric of the universe just to see him, one last time. “I know,” he said.

[penvisions]

gone to the dogs {chapter 3}

Pairing: Boston QZ! Joel Miller x F! Reader ; Implied Boston QZ! Joel Miller x Tess Servopoulos

Summary: A person from your past makes you feel the changes that transformed you into what you are today. A meal shared feels like another change is coming.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, canon typical gore, outbreak fic, age gap (only by about ten years), dark fic, dark joel miller, mean joel miller, joel miller is uptight, degrading language, sexual language, heated interactions, adult language, fighting, argumentative language, mutual disdain, sexual content, implication of sex work, unprotected piv (mentioned), sexual acts, reader is snarky, reader meets joel toe-to-toe with insults and it's amazing both reader and joel pov, lemme know if there are any i missed!

A/N: this honestly came out of nowhere. i haven't been writing lately beyond jotting down scene notes and vague ideas,so i've taken a step back from forming actual chapters for the many wips i have at the moment. but this was a good thing to get down amid all the stress of preparing to move for the second time in three months

ao3 link || series masterlist || joel miller masterlist || ko-fi

You step back a few paces, instincts reminding you of the last time you saw the man. He looked older, older than he should if only seven years went by. But the stresses of the world made each one seem like a lifetime.

But upon closer inspection, as you realize that maybe he looks…actually in better shape than when you had seen him last. But not being covered in dirt and grime was an easy difference. No, though, he looked healthy. Far better off than your rumpled and stark appearance.

He says your real name and you feel something soften deep inside. You hadn’t heard your actual name since…no, you cut the thought off, not wanting to think anymore about anything to do with the day you lost your brother. You feel the watching eyes of Joel and Tess as the meeting with strangers turns into anything but. Your connection with one of the men seemingly the last of the outcomes they had anticipated.

“Cane.” You correct him. “My name is- it’s Cane.”

“I can call you that, if you prefer. I’m just so glad you’re okay. When that raider dragged you off, I thought-“

“I got away.” You cut him off, not wanting to reveal the way you had ended up being a resident of the Boston Quarantine Zone. It wasn’t important, it was personal, and it was no one’s business but your own now, how it had come to be the reality of your life. It hadn’t been the first blood you spilled but it had certainly been the beginning of the path you walked and paced and snarled your way around today. He must sense your snub, the way you don’t want to dwell on the past. He nods once, eyes glinting as he takes in the two figures behind you. His eyes focus on Tess, a nod to her in greeting as he connects a face to the voice he had been conversing with for a few weeks now.

Frank turns to Bill, his counterpart on the other side of the fence. Allowing you to let out a huff of breath in relief at the passed moment. Or so you thought, Joel’s eyes were heavy on you. Far too weighted and far too vigilant as he no doubt picks up more than the exchange had been.

“Let’s, Bill, let’s get them inside. Get Cane into the shower, you look a little rough around the edges. You didn’t run into any trouble did you?”

The feeling of water cascading hot from the shower head and down your aching body was something you thought you’d never get to experience again. It was such a rare occurrence to get even lukewarm water in the zone, the water pressure weak.

A soft knock sounded through the hush of water, followed by Frank asking if you were comfortable with him coming into the bathroom. You call out a muffled affirmative, body beginning to ache from the way you had trudged through the night to get to the cordoned off city, especially after the way large hands had roughly pushed and pulled at you atop Joel’s shared bed.

“I just…wanted a second alone with you.” The man broke the heavy silence as he settled on a small bench in the room, opposite the vanity. He was worried, you could sense that much.

“That’s okay, it’s your house and I don’t mind.”

“…it could be your house too….if you wanted.”

On the other side of the door, Joel tries to keep his breathing light as he listens in on the conversation. A feeling of protectiveness hard to squash as he saw the other man slink off in search of you. There was something between you two, a shared past. A worry the other man felt entitled to have over you, the utterance of a name foreign to him but meant something to you. Joel wasn’t sure what to think, the way Tess had described him had been all positive and hopeful, a potential trading partner for things they couldn’t find in the rubble of the city remains or within the walls of the zone.

A connection to you was the last thing he had expected out of this trip. And he was on high alert for any issues that might bring to light. He keeps his eyes trained on the end of the upstairs hall, instincts telling him that Bill knows he hadn’t really been in search of a restroom for himself. Another dog with something to protect, with something to defend and fight for. The two men far more alike than they would want to admit and they had only just met. Your voice is quiet, something he had only ever experienced when he walked in on you and Tess alone. So used to you projecting it, to speaking loudly to ensure people heard you and understood the intent behind them.

The vulnerability with a man you obviously knew isn’t lost on him.

“Don’t think Bill would like that.” Cutting under his offer, you want him to realize that it would never work, his life is set up here due to the other man. Even if you were to be minimally evasive and keep to yourself, it was a life you weren’t sure you deserved let alone were worthy of being offered. It would be a disturbance to their way of life, from the gardens they tended to the house they obviously shared as their own.

“Yeah, but even so. We could convince him, if that’s something you’d be interested in. I don’t…I don’t like the thought of you all alone in the zone, fighting everyday for things you deserve to have…”

“I found my brother, I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Did…I just…I’m sorry to ask but are you- okay after-“

“Yes.”

“It’s okay if you’re not, you know. That kind of thing, that violence changes people.”

“I am…okay, for the most part. Change or no change.”

“You don’t…I just want you to know you have a place here. If you’re…resorting to certain things.” His words are hesitant, but firm. He knows you, had known you through your college years. He had been an artist of local renown, in Baltimore. Where you had moved to go to college and stayed after you graduated. You worked with him in his own studio, helped him to organize classes for those interested in the arts and helped to manage his small gallery. But that was a lifetime ago, a paintbrush traded for the butt of a gun in your palm. A flash of teeth in a gummy smile you had offered too easily exchanged for the snarling of teeth as you bared them for anyone who threatened you.

It was a lifetime ago, the turn of your age into the next decade of your life bringing endless and adaptive change. If it was for the better you weren’t sure, but your survival was dependent on it and that’s all that mattered.

Joel feels a tightness in his chest, the inference of the man’s words of violence that had been acted out on a younger version of yourself not settling well, violence that ripped you from the one person who you had been with at the end of the world. The weight of the realization like rocks in his stomach, churning around in his middle. More weight is added as he hears the admittance of you’re the activities he had caught you in the act of doing to earn ration cards, of the activities he had been all too willing to indulge in with you just the night before.

“I don’t like doing it, but it’s kind of a ‘use what ya got’ kinda world now.”

“Cane…”

“It’s fine, I’m not…I’m not bothered by it.”

“Honey, of course you are. Anybody would be. We used to- we used to spend our days painting and setting up gallery shows and that- that’s gone from the world now. There is no more art, there is no more humanity, there is only-“

“I’m not anybody.” You feel your lips part in a show of teeth, hissing the words out as anger flares and memories of a time passed cross your mind. You were so naïve, to think the world would allow you to be who you wanted. For anyone to be who they wanted, but now it molds you into something inhumane, weather you find yourself infected or not. “I’m a survivor and I have power in the zone, with or without those I traveled with here today.”

“Okay….I’ll let you finish washing up and I’ll get you a change of clothes, that sound alright?”

“….thank you, Frankie.”

“Of course, anything for you. Always.”

Thoughts of a younger you set in front of a large canvas atop an easel flashes before Joel’s eyes as he quietly descends the stairs. A paintbrush replacing the commonality of a gun in your grip, light in your eyes instead of a dark threat. It was an uncomfortable one, to find out just how much you had been altered. He knew the pain of being transformed beyond recognition and he hated for the knowledge of your past as it burrowed into his brain and refused to leave.

A table is set up outside, Frank insisting on enjoying the gentle breeze that graced the day. A lace trimmed white tablecloth atop it for dishes and wine glasses and cloth napkins to be set atop. A meal to try and tide the churning waters of an agreement, the combining of two factions. Everyone is seated at one of the four sides of the small table, an extra chair beside Frank for you two to share one.

Bill’s back is to the house, to allow him a full view of the street and surrounding area within the gate of his land. Joel is opposite him and to your right, Tess is across from you. It’s all so close an imitation of family dinners you used to have before you left to embark on your own life. Though the people surrounding you couldn’t be any different.

The four of them had fallen silent at your appearance once you came down the steps. Hands itching to run over and smooth down the flowing fabric of the dress Frank had gifted you to change into. A white, floral-patterned fabric you would’ve once fawned over. But now it feels like some sick, twisted joke even if you knew the man hadn’t intended for it to be taken that way. He had been working off memories of your preferences, not knowing who you were now.

Tess’s lips had lifted at the corners, though she hid it well at the way your eyes had cut through her when you heard the small chuckle she had tamped down on. Joel’s eyes had roved over you, an expression unreadable and far too harsh in the daylight back outside. Frank had been elated, praising how well it fit you and he was so glad it was the right size, that the pattern looked lovely and you cleaned up nicely. Bill had nodded along, most likely warned by his partner to be nice to you, though he hadn’t looked to thrilled that you had been left alone inside his home. He seemed so much like Joel, though there was no worry for him to reach out and grab you by the throat.

“Well, this really is just- it- it’s amazing.” You keep your eyes downcast at your place setting, the way Tess stumbled over her words unfamiliar. She was trying so hard to keep her own tendency to come off as threatening out of her demeanor and you wondered if it was closer to the that of the woman she had once been. Shirking herself back into that mindset in order to appeal to the men whose trade you admittedly, desperately needed.

The city is getting more dangerous to scavenge as time continues on. Supplies and even everyday items so scarce it doesn’t justify the risk of sneaking out of the zone much. You worry for the future, as things only seem to be getting more dire. As the hangings increase, as the Fireflies gain traction and power among the unrest.

“Right?” Frank smiles so openly and brightly at her across from you, reaching for the bottle of wine in the middle of the table. He reaches over to fill the half-empty crystal glass before her, the scent of it strong as it catches in the wind. You take the final sip of your own glass, catching Joel’s gaze out of the corner of your eye. You feel more than see the way his eyes trace the stain of the dark wine on your lips, how it dampens them as it clings to the plush of your bottom lip. How he shifts in his seat as you swipe your tongue over it to collect the errant drops.

“Mhm.”

“Can you not, please?” Joel’s eyes shift to the gun gripped tightly in Bill’s hand atop the table. Frank’s as well, an exasperated edge in his voice. The roll of his eyes he tries to fight making warmth flare in your chest for being able to recall it so clearly and aimed at you in the past. He’s much the same man he was when you knew him, but almost…happier now despite the fall of the world. He’s found his person and that does change people, you can see it in his boosted confidence and comfortability. He’s protected here, until he wishes not to be.

“I’m the same way.” Joel offers, to bridge the gap and mind the tension in the air.

“Oh, you’re a paranoid schizophrenic too?” Frank chuckles, shoulder bumping yours but you don’t join him in the banter. You feel wildly out of place, aside from having to share an edge of the table. It had been so long since you sat down at a clean table, a dressed table laden down with crystal glasses and fine ceramic. A meal made from scratch, hot and actually tasting like food.

“I’m not schizophrenic.”

“Sure.” Frank moves to fill your glass at the nod of your head, he knows you favored red once upon a time, the perfect paring for the meal Bill had been kind enough to offer you all.

Tess clears her throat and it strikes something in you. She’s acting more like she does when she’s alone with you, letting the glimpse of who she is shine amongst the pair. It’s easy to see now why Joel is by her side, she’s much better spoken than you. She’s good at knowing what to do and when. But then again she does have a decade on you much like he does. More experience in a world that had been whole and allowed for different skills.

“Well, can I just say, uh, gun aside, which I get, by the way.” A nod to Bill, to let him know he’s seen and understood. “How nice this is to have a civilized meal in such a, a beautiful place. It’s been so long.”

The unspoken but very loud ‘can’t get these two to stay in the same room long enough to even eat rations without an argument breaking out’ sentiment hits you like a brick wall. She knows, is the first thought you have, and it freezes the blood in your veins. She knows what you and Joel did but she hadn’t voiced it or confronted you about it. Perhaps she confronted him or had just known the second she walked into the apartment last night but either way, you know you have to be honest when she approaches you.

“I just wanna say, uh, thank you. Even if we don’t end up working together. Which I wouldn’t fault you, these two tend to rub some people the wrong way. I really needed this.”

“We are working together.” Frank raises his own glass to mirror hers, his other hand reaching for yours atop the table to shake it gently and reassuringly. “We are. Even if Cane hadn’t turned out to be the third party of your group. Though it was such a pleasant surprise.”

They clink their glasses together, urging you to do so as well. Your glass now full for a second time as well.

“You know what? Let’s go inside. Tess, I wanna show you something.”

“Actually I have been…waiting to see inside.”

“No. Not inside.” Bill tries to reign them in but neither are paying much attention to the table anymore, already getting up from their seats, full wine glasses in hand.

“Darling, do you want to join us?” Frank offers, reaching for your hand to help you up. But you shake your head, not wanting to go back inside so soon.

“Oh, um, no thank you. The fresh air is…”

“Of course,” He slides a hand over your shoulder, comforting and grounding.

Bill calls out his name once, then again with more force as they begin to walk away from the table, leaving the controlled setting. Both parties are laughing as they disappear inside the house with their wine glasses. He huffs as he looks from you to Joel, not having anticipated this course of events.

“I understand.” Joel speaks up across from him. He’s chewing a bite he had just taken, a second helping taken when offered still on his plate. He doesn’t even look in your direction, his attention solely on the other man at the table. “If my, uh…if mine…brought strangers into our situation, I wouldn’t be happy either.”

“Thought this one was yours.” Bill tips his head in your direction, genuine curiosity thinly veiled in his tone.

“No. This one is on her own.” His voice hardens, giving away his distaste for the insinuation.

“I’m no ones, certainly not his.” You feel the need to speak up, not willing to let them both talk about you as if you weren’t right there. It was not only insulting, but to insinuate that you could be anybody’s was more than aggravating. Joel ignores you, but Bill’s eyes meet yours briefly, gauging you silently.

“But of all the people he could’ve found on the radio, we’re actually decent people just tryin’ to get by.”

“Oh, well aren’t I the lucky one.” Bill scoffs, eyes trained back on Joel and remaining.

“There’s stuff we have in the zone that you don’t have here. Books, medicine, machine parts. We can help each other and get that gun outta my face.” There’s a hint of the man he is in the zone as his voice pitches low, a threat that he would act on in a heartbeat with the slightest inclination. Bill heeds the threat, knowing he would meet it head on. Both aware of the fragility of the situation, both aware of their people inside the house alone with each other and getting along. Bill concedes and the gun is locked before placed back in its holster.

“So, what, you were a…prepper or somethin’?”

“’Survivalist’.” Bill doesn’t continue eating, like Joel does. Ever the picture of controlled ease as he chews bite after bite on his plate. But the language of his body is obvious to you, he’s primed and ready to lunge, ready to fight, to kill. Something you had washed off in the shower with the appearance of someone you once thought long dead. “Maybe you are decent people, Frank vehemently vouches for her. But maybe you aren’t and maybe she’s changed. Doesn’t matter. We’re self-sufficient here. I don’t need you or your friend, or her complicating our lives. Is that clear?”

Even if you aren’t focused on one of them for more than a moment, eyes flitting between them evenly, you see the way Joel glances at the perimeter fence. Seeing something you don’t or can’t, had seen since first approaching it, keeping it to himself and only revealing it with his next words.

“That fence has got a year on it, tops. The galvanized wire already started to corrode. I can get you ten spools of high-tensile aluminum. Last you the rest of your life.” He seems to think better of his words and with another swallow of chewed food, remedies it. “Lives.”

The realization that Joel could be polite, he could be cordial, and he could assert himself in a nonviolent way to appeal to someone and get what he wants without shedding blood, breaking bones, or slinging harsh words is a hard realization. All you’ve known from him is backhanded comments about your skills, about your willingness to let them into the world you had helped shape in the zone. Someone who had come in with the intention of asserting his dominance over those already in charge had faltered only when you showed your own teeth. And he never let you forget the way you had showed your belly to allow them to be a part of it, no matter how mutually beneficial the situation was.

He saw you as weak and it’s glaringly apparent in the way that he tries to appeal to the man across from him now. A man who has things Joel has set his sights on, wants to get his hands on. But it’s much more than them both being men, it’s much more than them both being so similar in nature. It’s about the respect they have for each other, it’s as plain as day. The commonality of a kinder and gentler handler of a partner at their sides. Someone to protect that have bonded with each other.

It further proves how alone you truly are. The wine sours in your stomach, the food spoils and you excuse yourself from the table. Bill’s hand is back over the gun holstered to his side but pushes up out of his chair and follows you. Joel watches until as the man follows you to where you had sought space on the curb of the street, his brow furrowing and his mouth turning down as he thinks you’ve just ruined any hope of finding agreement.

“Save it, neither of you have even considered what I have-“

“Look, I’m not much for being honest these days. The world doesn’t care anymore and I never did even before it fell. But,” He’s sitting down beside you, a grunt at the low level nearly flush with the ground. A few feet separate you, but you understand the meaning of him doing so. Willingly putting himself beside you and at a disadvantage should you be brave enough to try something.

“I wasn’t willing to even entertain the thought of reaching out on the radio. But Frank was determined to wade through the signals. And he did all of it in search of you. He’s devoted so much time to finding you, alive or dead. And when he couldn’t find word, he didn’t leave the bed for weeks. He’s been haunted by your ghost since the day he stumbled onto my land. And yet, God delivered you to him alongside two people offering trade. You say I think of you as fodder, but you don’t know me. I may not really know you, but I know what you mean to Frank. That makes this worth the trouble and the risk. Not some one trying to appeal to me across the table, not some woman who Frank is set on impressing. It’s you. I can see through the act of that one back at the table a mile away, he’s behaving though he doesn’t want to. But you haven’t tried to hide you who are, what you are.”

“I didn’t feel the need to, not here, not with Frankie.”

“I know you may not be the same person he remembers and share stories with, but he’s gone through all the efforts to set this up. He was going to ask them if they had any word of you, he never gave up hope that somehow you had survived that raider tearing you out if his grip as you both ran from the ambush of their group. Something tells me you have the sway the two with you think they have, have become accustomed to because you allow them to reap the rewards of it.”

“It’s a partnership. Protection for equal shares of everything. I provide the knowledge. One person alone can’t hold their own any longer, certainly not in the zone.”

“You have the knowledge.” He agrees quietly, his eyes locking with yours as you look over at him.

“We’re you runnin’ off to?” Joel’s voice doesn’t startle you, but it’s unexpected in the doorway of the back porch. You had slipped out of your room the second you were sure everyone had been settled long enough to sleep, or at least resolve themselves to trying to rest for the night. It can’t be easy for either Joel or Bill to rest knowing the other doesn’t trust them, but you hadn’t anticipated anyone leaving their rooms at the late hour. Stars twinkle above in the sky, visible through the windows unobstructed by screens. You had just wanted to come out and see them, get some fresh air.

“Didn’t want to impose.” Your voice is quiet, though not in meekness, it’s swathed in the worry of waking a house full of people.

“We were offered rooms for the night, wouldn’t call that imposing.” He exhales heavily as he moves to stand beside where you are before one of the large panes of glass, looking out. “Besides, Frank seems to be easy on you, doubt he would say no to anything you needed.”

“Yeah, well, room’s too big, house is too big.” He watches you, catching the sight of your eyes tracing the landscape bathed in night and shadows. You absently wonder if he can smell the body wash you had used earlier, different from your own back in the zone but had washed the lingering scent of him on your skin all the same.

“Can’t get outta the gate on your own.”

“No, but it’s better than being stuck in that house.”

“It bothers you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Truly, you don’t. There’s no way he’s privy to the feelings and desperation to push down memories of the past that have endlessly bubbled up today, trying to drown you as they reach for the surface.

“Don’t play dumb, we both know you’re not.” His hands rest on his hips, the clinking of his belt buckle ever present loud in the silence of the night. Of the open land just beyond the enclosed porch. “You’re uncomfortable because they’re in a room and me ‘n Tess are in one.”

“I couldn’t care less about the sleeping arrangements.”

“Then what is it?”

“It doesn’t matter.” You think to tell him of how suffocating it was in that room, not because you were alone but because of how much it reminds you of where you used to live. But Joel isn’t one for you to be open with, to share honestly with. He’s been nothing but demeaning when it comes to any humanity you dare to show, conversations with Tess cut short the second he opens the door to wherever you are. The reason you don’t linger or share meals, the reason you don’t know why he had allowed for last night’s activities to happen and now they feel heavy, like a mistake you had let yourself fall into that never should have happened.

“Cane.” When you don’t respond, he voices the name Frank had called from behind the fence when he recognized you. It’s like an arrow to the heart, striking true and killing that part of you all over again. A name you had never expected to be called again, let alone by Joel Miller as he tries to get you to speak plainly with him. For once and never likely again.

“Drop it.” Your voice rasps, the scream you feel building in your chest desperately trying to break free.

“Not until you tell me.”

“Just because your mouth’s been on me-“

“That’s not what this- Jesus, fine, be difficult like you always are. I’m goin’ back inside.” He’s turning away, stepping toward the back steps. You hear the sound of his boots on the wood but only the first step before he’s whipping back around with a glare. “If this falls through, it’s on you. Not me and not Tess, you. And if that’s the case, maybe you should begin to consider that offer to stay here. And if that doesn’t pan out, don’t come crawling back to us.”

You don’t look at him or think of telling him the deal has been made because of you, and his steps take him further away from you, leaving you to sit on the outdoor furniture that reminds you too much of your old home. Of the one you once shared with family, of the one you had shared with Franke. Both more than likely just rubble or overtaken by twisted and decayed cordyceps. You feel the scream thicken your throat, swelling it up to make you try to gasp out for air to release it but it comes out as a harsh prattling sob. Your resolve to be strong cracking for the first time in years.

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@tobethlehem

[sukirichi]

total opposites

You and Toge swap bodies after encountering a fairytale curse, and similar to its origin, it also takes a fairytale method to break it.

REQUEST. body swap au + best friends to lovers

CONTENT/WARNINGS. slight crack fic, some cursing, implications of nsfw but nothing explicit, just Toge being a not-so closet pervert, usual best friend bickering, reader is fem bodied, unedited story (I should stop saying this, everyone knows I don’t edit my stuff)

NOTES. I enjoyed writing this, tysm for the request anon, this was really cute! definitely this is shooting up in one of my fav works ever (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

You stretched your arms overhead, feeling great after sleeping in. It wasn’t common of you to sleep this late, but you and Toge had gone stargazing the night before. A smile made its way to your face as you reminisced him reciting rice ball ingredients, signing that he was telling poetry to ‘match the mood’ until you’d both fallen asleep on the soft blanket atop a hill.

You don’t remember how you made it back to your room, but figured that Toge had carried you back home before the sun rose. Making a mental note to thank your best friend later, you yawned as you padded out to your room, hands rubbing in circles at your stomach.

Hopefully breakfast would be amazing today.

The door next to you opened, revealing your younger classmate, and you frowned, because wasn’t Kugisaki your next door neighbour? Well, whatever, he, Yuuji, and Kugisaki might’ve taken advantage of the rare, peaceful weekend that they probably had a movie marathon the night before.

“Morning, Megumi!” you greeted, coughing a bit when you sounded off, throat a little horse and itchy. At the sound of your voice, Megumi stilled in his tracks, eyes wide at you. His comical expression had you barking in laughter, shooting finger guns his way as you wiggled your eyebrows. “Ey, be a good dog and bark for me, will you?”

Semi-visible sonic waves drifted like waves after one another out your mouth. Megumi scowled before he froze the next second, ears perked up and backside wagging in replacement of a tail. “Woof woof!”

“What the hell?” you reeled back in slight disgust, your underclassman’s cheeks burning red. Then, your lips grazed against a soft cloth, making you look down.

You blinked back once. Twice. You were definitely...built different today. Curiously, you tugged at the zipper peaking out from your black collar, the familiar zhoop sound of the zipper burned into your memory after hearing your best friend do it countless times before.

In front of you, Megumi screeched – the most noise he’d made ever since you met him – his jaw dropped open while you – or rather Toge stood at the end of the hallway, his hands squeezing at your breasts that were still under last night’s pyjamas. You blinked back once. Then twice, steam pouring from your nose when Toge, in your body, pointed at his body. 

“Oh, oh!” your scream bounced off the hallways hard enough that Panda slammed his door open, about to tell everyone to shut up when your voice let out a high-pitched scream.

“What are you doing in my body?!”

Looking down at where Toge was pointing, you were greeted by the sight of his dark uniform and sock clad feet, your chest replaced with hard muscles instead of the soft flesh. You turned to Toge with a stupefied look that mirrored his, both of you falling on the ground with fists pounding on the hardwood floor.

“I’m a fucking girl!” he cried out, whether out of happiness or frustration, it was hard to tell.

Meanwhile, you zipped his collar back up, tugging at his off-white hair as you forced yourself to remember his limited vocabulary. “BONITO FLAKES!”

Now you understood Toge’s frustration of being a cursed speech user. 

“Bonito Flakes” definitely did not hold the same fury as “FUCK” did.

“You and I need to set down some boundaries,” you signed to him, brows pulled together. Toge seemed to be enjoying this sudden body swap a lot more than you did since he hadn’t stopped posing in the mirror the moment you pushed him back to your room, locking it shut to get some privacy. “You are not, under any circumstances, allowed to shower, do you understand?”

Toge scowled at your words, sassy as ever with his hands placed on his hips, buttocks jutted out. You hated, absolutely hated that he used your body this way because this time you couldn’t even laugh – not when seeing your body felt this awkward.

“You would really rather me stink?”

“You can’t undress too! Ever! Or if you will, your eyes better be closed. No peeking too!”

“Y/N, you and I grew up together. I’ve already seen everything,” he rolled his eyes, earning him a hard slap from the arm. Considering he was a lot more muscular than you were, your hit came a lot harder. “Ow!” he protested, rubbing the sore spot that ached, only to laugh at the sounds emitting from his lips. “Wow, I have to admit that this is really fun though. I’m actually talking,” he announced, “Hey, say salmon for me.”

“Bonito flakes!” you shook your head, “The moment Principal Yaga is back, we’re going to talk to him, okay? I don’t want to be stuck in your body any longer!”

“Please, you’re lucky you get to feel me up,” he winked at you, taking your (his) hands to flatten it on his stomach. “Come on, come on, feel my abs!” Whack. “Would you please stop slapping me? Your body is a lot more delicate than mine and my hands are – stop slapping me!”

Feeling bad for your friend and not wanting to abuse your body too much, you raised your hands in surrender with a roll of your eyes. “I can’t take you seriously with that voice. You’re too cute.”

“Complimenting ourselves now, aren’t we?” he scoffed, “Well, whatever, you are cute, especially when you’re angry. Such a shame I can’t see you do that right now because my handsome face is looking back at me.”

“I won’t hesitate to choke you, my friend.”

“You wouldn’t. You adore your body too much,” contrary to his words, Toge pulled a defensive stance. You threw a pillow at him, to which he easily dodged, clutching at the hem of your pyjamas afterwards. “Speaking of bodies, I really need to pee.”

“Hold it!”

“Are you insane? I’m not holding it, you’re going to kill us both!”

“Fine, I’ll take you to the rest room then,” you tugged at the hood of your shirt, pushing him inside the communal female restroom. Toge stood in the middle shock still, evidently flustered at the stalls and lack of urinals. You flicked a finger on his forehead, finger pointed to a stall. “Go pee. That’s my body – I need to make sure you’re not going to do anything weird with it.”

“I thought you trusted me, friend. Why would you think I’d touch you that way?”

You gave him an ‘are you serious?’ look. “You jack off every fucking night, Toge. I can hear you even from the next hallway. Plus, you’re a horny teenage male, who’s to say you wouldn’t be curious and try to see what female masturbation feels like?”

His eyes lit up at the idea, fist coming down to bounce at the palm of his hand as he nodded. “That’s actually a good idea—”

“Don’t you even dare.”

“What?!” you and Toge both exclaimed. He faced you with utter horror written on his face and you gasped, slapping both palms over your lips.

“It is true,” Principal Yaga affirmed with a grim look on his face. He’d recently got back to fetch your troublesome Gojo-Sensei who’d been caught starting a ruckus in Roponggi while women flocked around him, leading to your principal to haul his ass back to the school grounds. “Some curses are manifested through daily objects, and sometimes even through nature. That shooting star you saw was an example of that.”

“But is kissing really necessary?” Toge queried with a wary gaze sent your way.

“It’s a fairytale curse. It can only be broken through a true love’s kiss.”

“But sir, Toge and I have never dated anyone before. How can we miraculously fall in love with someone to break this curse overnight?”

“It doesn’t have to happen overnight. Sometimes, a simple crush will do,” Principal Yaga sighed, scratching his bald head with his face pulled deep in thought. “Y/N, you have a crush on Gojo-Sensei right? I’m going to kill him if he actually kisses you – and knowing that damn brat he might if you ask him – but I think a kiss on the cheek will suffice. For now, you both just have to...broaden your relationships. Maybe go out on dates.”

“I don’t mind that. In fact, I’m going to have the time of my life,” Toge cheered, his mood dampening once he saw you stiffen. “But my body is...”

Knowing full well that he’d get insecure over his lack of speech again, you glared at him hard enough that your best friend straightened up, lips puckered out in a pout as if you hadn’t just caught him talking badly about himself again when you’ve told him countless times he was perfectly fine the way he was.

It made you sigh, feeling slightly bad that until now he still couldn’t see himself the way you saw him – not that you’d ever vocalize this; Toge would never shut up (in the best way he could) if he had the slightest idea what went inside your head.

“You’re lucky you have a pretty face. Otherwise, it’s going to be impossible for anyone to like you,” you teased instead, somewhat flustered at your indirect compliment.

Toge merely scoffed at you, his gaze burning and hard, contrasting the teasing little shit grin he wore. “Oh, please, if I wasn’t the cursed speech user, I would’ve banged—”

“Kids!” Principal Yaga threw his dolls at you hard, the both of you clutching at your heads in pain. How were those dolls as heavy as rocks? “Take your bickering back to your rooms please. No more of this mess and noise. It’s late.”

You frowned at the old man, face pleading as you signed, “Principal Yaga, can’t we really do anything else? Aren’t there any techniques to undo this?”

You and Toge knew that combination so well – pitch black eyes, jaw clenched, lips pursed and palms interlaced under his chin – one that meant his words were final and irrevocable. None of you could argue or suggest more solutions the moment the words left his lips like an ultimate decree. “The technique is the kiss. Now leave.”

You and Toge tried, you both really did. 

But following Principal Yaga’s suggestion of dating others had turned out to be a complete fail – even with your normal body and Toge’s physical charisma. 

It simply didn’t work; not when Megumi ran away from you every time you tried to get him to kiss you with your arms wide open, and Toge wasn’t helping either by pushing Gojo-Sensei away from you every time the cheeky eyed teacher announced his willingness to help.

Eventually, you and your best friend had retired in his room, the scent of him coated all over his pillows and his shirt that you wore. That felt comforting, at least, and you buried yourself in the crook of your body’s neck, bodies tangled with one another.

Who knew dating could be so tiring?

A wave of irritation flashed over you from today’s events, knowing full well that this could’ve been avoided long ago. Scowling, you cuddled Toge closer, lightly flicking your fingers on your body’s chest. “This is your damn fault, Toge.”

“You were the one who asked me to stargaze with you.”

“You don’t always have to say no to everything I ask of you, you know.”

“You’re really dumber than I thought if you think I could easily say no to you,” he snorted above you, his chin resting atop your head. “I don’t have a lot of weakness because I’m a strong sorcerer—” another flick, a harsher one this time around. “Okay, okay, I’m just kidding! But I mean it though – you’re my best friend and my weakness. Of course I’d do anything to make you happy, even if it’s something as stupid as stargazing.”

“Hey!” you made a sound of protest in your throat, looking back at him with a frown. “It wasn’t stupid, it was romantic.”

Hell yeah, it was romantic indeed – your heart still skipped a beat every time you remembered Toge’s starry eyes matching the night sky’s beauty, the words salmon and mustard leaf surprisingly sexy every time it came from him. It was stupid – so fucking stupid – that you groaned into his chest to hide your flushed face.

“Yeah, I suppose it was.”

The room fell silent, your syncopated breathing soothing during this stressful times. Taking advantage of your voice, Toge began to hum, singing the songs you both had always listened to in the privacy of your room during lazy days. It brought a smile to your face as you clutched to him tighter, heart pounding in your chest as you gazed up at him, tapping his chin to get his attention. “Toge, can I say something weird?”

“Please, nothing you say surprises me anymore. Shoot.”

Your mouth began to dry as you cleared your throat in an attempt to hide your awkwardness, gaze pointedly averted from his prying ones. “You and I...we’ve known each other for a long time and we love each other. As best friends, of course.”

“Sheesh, friendzone much?”

“Would you please shut up and listen to me seriously for once?” you huffed, making him snicker, but nodded at you anyway to continue. “As I was saying – why don’t we kiss? It could be true love’s kiss.”

Toge didn’t speak for a good minute, the pregnant pause filling in the gap filled with tension. You taped his cheek, waving his hand in front of his eyes when he dazed out. When his gaze focussed back on you, Toge was surprisingly calm – although beneath that composed exterior, his mind had simply short-circuited. “If this is your way to get to make out with me, I’m going to sock you in the face.”

“Toge, I’m serious! Let’s kiss!”

“I don’t want to!” he shook his head indignantly, hiding his face by hugging you close to his chest instead.

“Why not? Don’t you want to swap back to your original body? Both of us haven’t showered in two days and I’m sick of the way you smell. You’re lucky I love you though, otherwise I’m going to cry. Come on, Toge, what’s holding you back?” you tried to fight back from his grip, but he’d surprised you both when he only squeezed you tighter, both your erratic heart rates matching the other.

“I said no.”

“Toge, it’s just a damn kiss, what’re you so afraid of?”

“I’m afraid that if we don’t swap back, then that means you don’t love me the way I love you!” he finally admitted, breathing hard before continuing. “Principal Yaga said it must be a kiss between lovers and not just platonic friends okay?” you attempted to scramble away from his arms again, and this time he let you, though he’d closed his eyes, cheek squished on the pillows as he murmured, “I don’t want you to reject me... even though I messed up already.”

“Wait,” you snapped your fingers to make him open his eyes, hesitant as you signed, “You...you love me that way?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why not?”

“Because my face is staring back at me and it’s fucking awkward – I wanted to see your face when I confessed!” he sat up with a frustrated groan, childishly kicking off the sheets of the bed as he clutched his head in his hands. “I had everything planned, okay? Nobara and Yuuji helped me think of everything because Megumi is shit when it comes to love. Listen, I was going to ask you on a candlelit date and then maybe kiss the life out of you – if you feel the same way—”

“Kiss me.” The body he possessed a victim of his own powers, Toge was left with no choice but to grab your face before his mouth pressed against yours, fingers entangled into the other’s hair. You were smiling into the kiss the whole time, barely able to recognize when Toge had shifted your bodies until you were under him, his hands running down your sides lovingly the whole time. 

Pulling away to get some air, you opened your eyes, unsurprised when Toge laid above you, his strong arms planted beside your head.

Both of you were breathing hard from the passionate kiss filled with so much sexual tension and longing, your tongue darting out to swipe at his taste on your lips. The laughter that bubbled out of you was pure, wholesome and swollen like your heart. “I love you too, idiot.”

“Salmon!” Toge peppered your cheeks with kisses, pulling out more gleeful laughter from you, his playful and loving attacks more of a gift than a punishment. Once you’d recovered from your happiness – although really, who could recover after that? – Toge unzipped his collar, his smile nothing but wicked when he commanded, “Kiss me again.”

[bemylord]

being their girlfriend/dating them

or they're as your boyfriend

character: sukuna, itadori, nanami, satoru, megumi.

warnings: fluff to smut hdc, curse words, kinda rough and soft boys + sukuna.

note: or they're as your boyfriend/dating them

ꜱᴜᴋᴜɴᴀ ʀʏᴏᴍᴇɴ

i don't think he'd call it relationship or love. just the bond that binding you're together. he also doesn't talkative a lot, he prefers to show you his feelings in actions.

as long as itadori is searching fingers, you'll exist in his domain, being the slave and queen in one time. he'd praising and teach you new techniques, but also may use your body as he wants it.

praising to the degradation - generally, nothing new. if you had been bad either you did something on purpose, there will be no mercy for your body and throat - the king knows the way to punish you.

the cute thing is when you are exhausted from the little practice sukuna does in his small domain: breath had been taken away and your body is sweating. all you want is a little break to catch your breath. despite his selfish and demolished nature, he gives you some time in his lap to debilitate your sluggish body. your arms are wrapping around sukuna's neck by accident - it may seem he doesn't give a damn about it, but he pulls you by the waist, put your head on his athletic chest, and have you in arms 'till you'll wake up.

'you are too weak, brat, more energy, put more fury on me, or did you forgotten that i'm the fucking king of this world?' he laughed, knocking off your attacks. he's got a god complex and perfection. 'i'm getting stronger each second, sukuna, don't make yourself as a god'

you are the one he lets talk like that. being tremendously gentle with you is hard for him - he still being rough and could inflict damage, although, after pain, the king will take affection aftercare. but don't think he would murmur some sweat stuff in your ears, just spooning you is enough.

ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ ɢᴏᴊᴏ

master of the aftercare. sensei of the smooch and teacher of how to cuddle a person. he's good at those things. you never complain of how warm and strong satoru's arms wrapping your waist and his lips are kissing the back of your neck. after rough sex gojo would make an apology with soft kisses all over your figure.

cute fights in the kitchen while cooking. satoru is very needy and sometimes, he could be clingy for your attention, trying to get it whenever he wants to feel your body. even fight doesn't stop him - gojo would fight back and hitting on you.

show everyone that you're taken by him by marks he left on your soft skin last night. satoru would give you an order to dressing a shirt which will show his label on your body - wanna get a punishment? disobey the order; sure, later, you will regret it. however, it will be somewhere in the future, so you do mind disobey him?

whisper on his ear how long you've been craving for his fat dick in your dripping pussy and satoru would stop everything he did later, just to bury his cock deep into you, feeling the outlining of his member in your stomach. it's driving him insane when his fat dick rearranging your insides. no words could describe emotions in his soul when you're scratching his back whilst satoru is doing the pulsative movements inside you. 'does it feel good, kitten, doesn't it? feeling my cock in your little tummy, my god.. put your hand on the lower abs to perceive it' 'satoru~, i-i won't take any longer, give me that~' how could he disobey the order of his little angel?

gojo would degrade you only you've got the bad attitude. at other times - you may hear as he repeats the words 'you're so fucking amazing, kitten' he's hazing at the throbbing feeling in his cock you've been giving him.

ɪᴛᴀᴅᴏʀɪ ʏᴜᴊɪ

he's so much loves to play games and dancing with you when he has the time to do that - you'll play all games he bought for those evenings when both of you are playing fools and being kids. he may act like a kid around you, but trust me, he isn't good while railing you.

there's no door named exit while he's eating your out. yuji will apologize for not being close when you want to cuddle him or smack your lips against his. his apologies are mostly his head between your legs and his fingers in your cunt, stretching your walls, preparing you for the night. he makes sure you're enough dripping for his throbbing cock. it gives me a vibe that he'll overstimulated your little clit only with his tongue.

having you in missionary position, leaving the half-moon on your hips, unquenchably fucking your overdose cunt filled up with your juices. but you know itadori adores when you're squirting on his dick, shuddering while giving the huge release. 'that's right, beautiful, give your daddy all juices you've got' his words make you squirt one more time when he's finishing on your chest. quick series of spanking on your cunt and you're melting definitively by him.

but most of the time, you're both doing silly stuff that bothering megumi a lot. actually, you've got a game 'who's bothered megumi first'. it's fun to watch how he's activating shikigami dogs. you're idiots, although happy idiots.

ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ ᴋᴇɴᴛᴏ

daddy issues. daddy vibes and daddy chill. you've got no choice but to obey every order he told you to do. no way to escape and no way not being fucked to him if you did have time to do his tasks. his big and strong hands pulling your hair back, so you arch your back, feeling his breath in your ear. scream as loud as you can, 'till you reach the high note you could - he won't stop it.

sweat aftercare in the shower where nanami is washing your hair for you, also massaging your shoulders and kissing your stomach sort of excuses for being too extremely rough with you. but you knew he won't be soft, the language of his sex life is rough and painful. but the aftercare is worth having bruises the next morning around your neck.

nanami is an obsessive and dominant lover, he would mark you as his baby girl, his property, and the woman he's seeing his future with. even if you've got powerful and strong abilities nanami still doesn't allow you to battle the curse. think whatever you want to - he doesn't like the thought of having your dead body in his arms. he doesn't like the thought his small girl would have injuries from the demon.

nanami will show his love in action rather than words. you've got an unspoken rule to kiss your partner when they're tired of the work or giving a good morning/goodnight kiss. even if you're sleeping, nanami kisses your forehead before going to work. nothing could stop him from the morning kiss. you baked warm goods before he returns from the office or battle tired and having no strength. he fucking loves your baked bun.

after work, you make a warm bath for him, where he can loosen his body, burying his face in your hair. 'sweetie, i love you so much, so-so-so much. with you i can enervate myself and get lost in your smell, wrapping arms around your waist, feeling like it's my private heaven'

ᴍᴇɢᴜᴍɪ ꜰᴜꜱʜɪɢᴜʀᴏ

i've got a feeling he'd be an overprotective boyfriend. doesn't leave you alone with itadori for the reason he's a vessel for sukuna - don't treat him weird, he trusts itadori, but not sukuna. doesn't like when you interrupting his battle using your abilities because it's making him think about implications.

doesn't show his affection among other students because doesn't like being called a clingy or needy puppy. nevertheless, pulling you closer by your waist to show everyone to fuck away from you. megumi would not hesitate to kiss you with a tongue in front of the students to show them you're taken and your man is crazy.

megumi is more like a homeboy. every time you're alone or having time to spend together, you'll be stuck in his arms 'till you both need to go back to the sorcerer-life. cuddling and smooching are his life - in the bathroom, while you're cooking, watching tv-shows, he's arms around your body, therefore megumi is telling sweet nothings in your ear.

sex life with megumi? complicated question. would be bad and good simultaneously. i still have a thought he'd tied you up and use a flogger on your booty for spanking and preparing your pussy for his dick - it was passed on by his genes [wtf his father omg]. makes you squirt a couple of times, also makes you beg for his fat cock before pull it inside unexpectedly. using a collar with a chain to arch your back 'till it crunches and you moaned because megumi literally choking you.

only god knows how much megumi has kinks for you. how much energy he has to rail you all night and be able to continue that after the sun is illumining the room. 'you're dirty little slut, the rays of the sun in our room, and you still have the energy to squirt' degrading you during coitus and praising you in his muscular arms after.

//~~//

fuck. i was planning to post kuroo x reader x kenma but i deleted my work [by fucking accident i hate myself] that i had been writing since morning. sooo, I'll post it tomorrow. so sorry for the grammar mistake i was writing it on my phone.

[quindolyn]

Ma’am i am begging for a wolfstar blurb where Remus has a innocence kink and Sirius has a corruption kink

With love, my vagina

Dumb Bunny || Remus Lupin and Sirius Black

Word Count: 4,553

A/N: I hope you like this Bo, you’re my favorite and you know that. I also wrote like 90% of this in one sitting so I don’t know if it’s any good because you usually i take breaks and come back and look at what I’ve written but who knows. Love you so much my love.

Warnings: degradtion, praise, names like slut and dumb, blow job, oral virgin, dogg style, this is post Azkaban kinda

Masterlist

Kneeling at Remus’ feet staring up at the outline of his cock pressing up against his pants was daunting. You’d never actually given head before, had guys asked? Sure, but it had just never seemed worth the trouble, you’d never actually gotten a good look at any of their pricks because as soon as you’d nixed a blow job they were desperate to get inside of you.

Not that that had been all that great either, but you digress. 

You watched with wide eyes as his nimble fingers moved to the button on his slacks, pulling it through the hole before unzipping his zipper which allowed his slacks to drop and pool at his ankles. 

This left him in only his navy boxers which allowed you to get a much better look at the outline of his cock, you could almost see the ridges of the head as it was jostled around when he stepped out of his pants, kicking them to the side as he repositioned himself in front of you. 

You sat there, unmoving as you stared down his cock, not quite sure what to do now.

“Come on Pup, don’t tell me that you’re so clueless that you don’t know what to do with a cock when its been laid out in front of you,” Sirius sniped from where he stood, leaning nonchalantly against the wall as his eyes raked over your figure, clad only in the pair of pale pink panties and matching bra that you had put on hours earlier. “Don’t tell me that you’re that useless.”

“M’not useless,” You grumbled, casting your eyes down in shame, “I just, I’ve never done this before.”

“Speak up there Pup,” Remus commanded gently, slipping two strong fingers under your jaw to tilt your head up so that you could meet his gaze, “Can’t hear you when you mumble, and s’not nice to not look at someone when you’re talking to them.”

“M’sorry sir,” You apologized, trying to keep your eyes on his and not on his ever growing bulge, still straining against the material of his boxers, “I was just saying that,” You gulped, casting a sidelong glance at Sirius before moving your eyes back to meet Remus’, “I’ve never done this before.”

“Never done what before?” Sirius asked from off to the side, his smirk evident in his voice as he moved to stand next to Remus, “Come on bunny, wanna hear you say it.”

You looked up at Remus with pleading eyes but it was clear he wasn’t going to call his dog off, “I’ve never given head before, I’ve never sucked…” You felt your face heat up as you trailed off at the implication of your words.

“Oh come on,” Sirius chuckled, kneeling next to you so that you were of equal height, “Don’t get shy on me now, you can say the word puppy, I know you can.”

You found yourself not mortified by his condescending matter but rather ridiculously turned on, you could already feel a knot begin to form in your belly.

Sirius kept his eyes trained on you expectantly until you finally relented, “Cock,” As the single word slipped from your mouth you felt embarrassment bloom in your belly which was silly really, it was only just a word.

“Come on now, all together,” The dark haired man grinned mischievously.

“I’ve never sucked cock,” You admitted bashfully, looking to Remus to measure his reaction. You were nervous, not only had you never sucked someone off before but both men were a decade older than you with more sexual experience. What if you weren’t good, or you couldn’t take them and triggered your gag reflex? With all of these thoughts swimming around in your head it was hard to form a coherent thought and that was purely from nervousness, you couldn’t imagine what it would be like when you had them inside of you.

He had to restrain himself from groaning, both at your words and the innocent look on your face as you gazed up at him, “You’ve had sex though right baby? We’re not gonna take your virginity are we?” He asked, because if he and his lover were about to be your first time it was going to have to be a whole lot more special than this.

You were quick to shake your head, “No, I’ve had sex, I’m not a virgin.”

“Well in this hole you are,” Sirius captured your jaw, turning it to face him. His thumb brushed against the seal of your lips in a nonverbal command for you to open them, which you did of course.

You watched with wide eyes as Sirius gathered spit in his mouth before he spat it into your mouth, the taste of him bleeding across the expanse of your tongue. 

“Let me see Pup,” Sirius commanded as you stuck your tongue out, allowing him to see his spit on your tongue before he gave you your next direction, “Good girl, now swallow.”

Not as restrained a man as Remus he did groan watching your throat with an unguarded lust that had you shivering at the idea of what thoughts laid behind that gaze.

“Pads is right, you’re a very good girl,” Remus praised, directing your attention back towards him. Your mouth dropped open at the sight you were met with, Remus’ stiff cock standing proud and tall in front of your face with his hand wrapped around it.

“Am I going to suck your cock?” You asked, wide eyed and slightly concerned as you gazed up at Remus. Though his dick was prettier than you anticipated with its bright red, leaking tip, and the ridges caused by the veins that ran along the sides it was absolutely mouth watering, but the idea of fitting that in your mouth was nothing less than nerve wracking.

He let out a low chuckle, one of his strong hands moving to brush your hair out of your face, his eyes trained on your lips, “No, not yet baby. Gonna wrap those pretty lips around Sirius he’s a little bit smaller, it’ll make it easier for you.”

You heard Sirius grumble in discontent at the comment as he pushed himself up to undo the buckle of his belt, shedding both his trousers and boxers with far less dignity than his counterpart. Though yes, he was a bit smaller, it didn’t appear to be a significant difference and did little to soothe your woes about your potential performance. 

“Don’t worry Poppet, m’gonna teach you how to suck his dick. It's not hard I promise,” The tall man knelt beside you, his hand still on his prick as he smeared a kiss along your temple. You allowed your eyes to close at the contact, leaning into the touch as Remus guided one of your hands to his cock. It practically jumped into your grasp as oppositely charged magnets would attract each other. 

Though you’d given a hand job before Remus’ much larger, scarred hand found its way to encase your’s, guiding you through the motions of pumping up and down the shaft.

“How about me?” Sirius sounded petulant, like a child, but there was absolutely nothing child like about the way his dick rested heavily in the palm of his hand, he wasn’t as long as Remus but what he lacked in length he made up for in girth. The head of his member was more purple than red, though it leaked just as ferociously with the beginning drops of precum.

“He’s right Puppy,” Remus told you, pulling his lips away from your temple so that you would be forced to support the weight of your head on your own and meet his eyesight, “Gonna teach you how to give a blow job, okay?”

You nodded your head, “Yes, Sir.”

Impatience radiated off of the man who stood before you, the head of his cock staring you down, before you could talk yourself out of action you reached out and took the shaft in your hand, getting used to how it sat heftily in your hand.

“You’re gonna want to spit in your hand first Pup, it’ll make it easier,” Remus suggested, his length still secure in his own hand. You followed your instructions, switching Sirius’ member to your nondominant hand while you spat into the other one before resuming your previous hold.

Gazing up at him as you worked your hand up and down the length of his shaft you noticed the way his eyes were entirely consumed by lust, shining grey irises now black, blending in with his pupils.

“Use your thumb to smear the precum baby, like that,” Remus continued to coach you, watching as you ran your thumb over the sensitive head of Sirius’ member and how he jolted at the motion, “See he likes it.”

“Do you? Do you like it, Daddy?” You peered up at him through your eyelashes, cocking your head to the side without ever relenting the movement of your hand, “Am I doing a good job?”

Remus groaned from beside you, his gaze having left the dick in your hand, now landing on your face. Sirius simply smirked, dark curtains of hair framing his visage, the mere sight of him looming above you was enough to make you embarrassingly turned on, feeling pleasure begin to simmer in your belly you could only imagine how it would feel when you had him in your mouth.

“You’re doing a very good job Puppy,” It was Remus who spoke this time, “But it looks like Pads might be a little desperate to get his cock in your mouth, you think you’re ready?”

“I think so,” You nodded.

That was all Sirius needed before he was releasing his member from your hold, gripping his hand around it pumping it once, then twice before bringing the head to rest on your bottom lip. Tracing the seal of your lips with the weeping head of his prick he spoke, “Come on Puppy, wanna be the first cock in that pretty little mouth of yours.”

“You heard him (Y/N), open your mouth, time to take his cock.” Remus said from beside you.

“B-But I’ve never done this before, how am I supposed to know what to do?”

Getting more and more frustrated with the fact his prick still wasn’t in your mouth Sirius began shifting his weight from foot to foot anxiously.

“Don’t worry, it’s gonna be alright,” The werewolf soothed you, running his fingers through your tresses, “Gonna help you.”

Glancing over at Remus for one last confirmation you didn’t realize what Sirius was doing until it was too late and his member was making contact with your cheek as he slapped it against the side of your face, streaking precum across your skin, “Hurry up slut.”

You whimpered at the degradation of both his words and his action as you felt a pang of pleasure zip through your body, shivering at the filthiness of it. You shifted in your spot, trying to rub your thighs together to soothe some of the ache that resided there and that wasn’t showing any indication of relenting but neither of the older men were having it.

“Stop that,” Sirius growled, capturing your jaw in his hand, pushing your cheeks together so that your lips were forced open, “Not about you right now, you’re supposed to be getting me off,” With that, having lost all patience he pushed the head of his cock into your mouth, releasing a strangled groan as he stopped himself from pushing in deeper. 

Remus let out a small chuckle shifting so that he was closer to you, “There you go Poppet, just start with the head. You wanna be sure to keep your teeth tucked away so that you don’t hurt him,” Leaning in closer towards your ear he added something else in a low whisper, “We can do that later, yeah?”

You let out a small giggle, which because it was muffled by the cock sitting inside of your mouth sent vibrations of pleasure through Sirius, starting at the head of his member and working their way up the shaft. Unable to control himself he bucked into your mouth, not considerably deep but deep enough to jar you. 

“Careful Si,” Remus scolded gently, one of his hands going to grip Sirius’ bare thigh as a reminder not to rush. Looking at you he saw the tears brimming in your eyes at the sudden and unexpected motion, “Puppy,” He cooed, caressing the side of your face with his knuckles, “Gotta breathe through your nose, do you know how to do that baby?”

Shaking your head gently you were careful to keep your teeth tucked away behind your lips while still signaling that you had no clue what you were doing. 

“Are you choking on my cock?” Sirius mocked you, the concerned tone of voice so sickly sweet it was nauseating, “Not even doing anything with it, just sitting there in your mouth and you can’t even take it,” He thrusted up gently into your mouth, just enough for the head of his cock to brush up against the roof of your mouth as cause you to gag around his length.

“Be nice Sirius,” Remus seethed through gritted teeth, glaring up at him while he pet your hair, grounding you as you focused on inhaling and exhaling through your nostrils. Concentrating on that helped you to calm your gag reflex, no longer having a problem with how his member was positioned in your mouth.

“Daddy can be mean can’t he?” Remus directed his attention towards you, his tone was so falsely sympathetic that it worsened the need bubbling up inside of you as the pleasure in your stomach continued to simmer. 

You stopped yourself from nodding again, this time letting out an affirmative hum which pleased Remus as he watched Sirius’ hips stutter as he refrained from forcing his length all the way down your throat.

“You can suck harder bunny, it’ll feel good and he’ll tell you if something hurts or doesn’t feel good, gotta trust him to do that.”

Taking his advice you sucked more harshly at the member inside of your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head while looking up at him to gauge his reaction, he was still looking down at you, unblinking as though if he lost sight of you for even a moment the pleasure would stop. 

Remus slid his body behind yours so that your back was pressed to his chest with his cock achingly pressing into your bareback, smearing precum along your skin.

“Gotta hollow your cheeks Pup, like this,” His fingers found their way to either side of your face, pressing gently on your cheeks until he could feel the cock inside of your mouth. “It’ll feel good for him, make it tighter like it would be if he was fucking your cunt.”

One hand quickly abandoned your face, sliding its way down your stomach until his fingers were brushing the top of your lacy panties before slipping just his fingertips beneath the material. He simply cupped your pussy possessively, not working his fingers between your folds or into your hole, but just resting there, clutching you.

“Fuck Moons,” Sirius gritted, “She’s a fucking natural, hollowing her cheeks so prettily for me it’s like fucking her actual cunt.”

You whined at his words, squirming once again trying to relieve the ache burning between your thighs, the way he spoke to Remus, to Sir, like you weren’t even there. It was deliciously objectifying, degrading, and you loved it. 

Remus smiled into your neck as he moved to nip at your ear, the contact subtle, but still enough to have you shivering as pleasure tickled at your nerves which felt frayed and exposed, with every motion, every exhale against your skin it was like on fire had been set to each of them individually.

“Gonna make him feel even better now poppet, bob your head up and down and you’re gonna take your hand,” He took one of your hands, which had been resting on your thigh, and guided it to the base of Sirius’ member, “Just move it a little bit, on what you’re not able to fit into your mouth, don’t wanna neglect it.” 

Following his instructions you worked the exposed length of him in your hand as you bobbed your head up and down the rest, taking about half of his cock into the velvety warmth of your mouth. Running the brunt of your tongue along his shaft you acted upon the courage you felt surge through you, using the hand not at the base of his cock to grapple at his balls. 

You were more than pleased with the strangled moan that fell from Sirius’ lips, you’d gotten groans out of him earlier but not a moan. Remus noted this as well, his mouth still pressed against your ear, “Look at that, he’s so pretty with his head thrown back like that, moaning, and all because of your mouth.” 

One of his fingers found your bottom lip which was dripping with saliva, and he ran the pad of his finger along the cushion of your lip, pressing gently. 

“How’s it feel, Pads?” Remus looked up at the other man.

“She was born to suck cock,” He exhaled sharply as you took him deeper in your mouth, making a point to continue to hollow your cheeks.

The hand cupping your sex slid a finger between your folds, collecting your wetness on a singular digit causing you to jump at the contact before you rolled your hips towards his hand nonverbally begging for more.

Moving his lips to suck dark purple hues into the delicate flesh of your neck Remus spoke into your skin, “Once you make Daddy cum then it's your turn Bunny, don’t be greedy, you gotta give before you get.”

Taking his words at face value you became even more determined to make Daddy cum, knowing that not only would it be a personal feat, your first blow job, but that when it was done you would be getting so much more.

Breathing in sharply through your nose you willed your gag reflex not to act up as you pushed your head down on his cock, taking in as much of Sirius as you could which you were pleased to see that it was a majority of his length inside of your mouth by the time you hit your limit. 

You sucked more harshly at his member, swirling your tongue around what you could before Remus rose from where he had rested behind you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head before moving to stand next to Sirius. You whimpered when his fingers slipped from your cunt but were intrigued as you watched through your lashes. Observing as Remus’ hands slipped under the smaller man’s shirt, palms running up and down the toned planes of his stomach as he meshed his lips with the other man’s.

You were unsure but you thought that you heard a command for Sirius to rid himself of his shirt as he quickly undid the buttons, letting the dress shirt fall to the floor with Remus’ quickly following suit.

Watching the two men make out with each other, Remus’ hands nestling themselves in Sirius’ long hair and Sirius’ gripping at Remmy’s bare ass, spurred you on in your efforts to make him cum.

Adjusting Siri’s length so that it sat comfortably in your throat and that so you could feel where it bulged against your throat before you swallowed around his length.

If the feeling of his load being shot down your throat wasn’t indication enough that your little trick had done the job then the sharp, “Fuck” the man released from above you certainly was. 

You swallowed his cum just as you had his spit before easing yourself off of his length, taking extra care to keep your teeth from his sensitive cock. Looking up at him with wide eyes you watched him lay his head on Remus’ chest as marks similar to the ones left on your neck were left on his, and though yours were beginning to feel a bit tender you knew that Sirius was loving his as much as you were loving yours.

“Did I do a good job Daddy?” You looked up at him owlishly, cocking your head to the side.

“Fuck Moons if you don’t fuck her I will,” Was all you got in response as Remus chuckled into the newly bruised skin of his lover pulling away to assess you. 

He frowned looking at you as he noticed that you were still in your underwear, “Up,” He ordered, once you were on your feet he was in front of you in a single stride, strong, scarred arms were extending around your torso to undo the clasp of your bra, pulling the straps off of your shoulders allowing the garment to fall to the floor before kneeling in front of you to tug your panties down which you then stepped out of.

“On the bed,” He ordered simply, your panties hanging from the crook of his finger as he moved to deposit them in the pocket of his blazer, cock bobbing in the air as he moved about the room.

Positioning yourself on the bed, on your hands and knees you caught a glimpse of Sirius lounging on an armchair in the room, cock resting against his thigh as he recovered from his first orgasm of the night. He shot you a lazy smile before raking his eyes along your form, studying each ripple and ridge hungrily. 

On your hands and knees, you felt uncomfortably vulnerable but you knew it was all worth it when you felt Remus settle in behind you, his hands moving to grip your hips and pull you back towards his pelvis.

You pushed your bum back towards Remus as you felt the head of his cock run through your soaking folds, you were almost embarrassed by how wet sucking Sirius off had made you but you couldn’t quite summon the energy.

“Don’t rush bunny, I got you, I promise,” With one hand guiding his cock and the other anchoring you to him he pushed just the head of his member inside of you. You clenched around him, trying to suck more of his length up into you because though you technically had him you needed more.

Not feeling particularly patient himself Remus wasted no time before pushing the entirety of his length inside of you, growling as your cunt pulsed around him. 

“Sir!” You moaned feeling yourself stretch around him, having never taken his cock before you weren’t ready for the way that he stretched you so wide it was bordering on painful just barely avoiding tipping over the edge. 

Allowing you a moment to adjust to his length he pulled out of you until his member barely rested inside of you before thrusting himself all the way back in. A hand running down your back signaled for you to arch your back for him which of course you did.

His pace was fast but deep, the depth of his strokes consistent as he reached depths inside of you you hadn’t even known existed before. Pistoning his hips in and out of you the rhythmic sound of skin slapping up against skin filled the room and you could feel his balls slapping up against your clit which each and every thrust.

“Pretty bunny,” Remus’ low voice sounded through the room, accompanied by the sounds of your skin against each other as he leaned back to watch his member disappear in you before pulling back out, “Such a pretty bunny for me, so sweet and innocent aren’t you?”

“Yes Sir,” You responded, allowing your head to drop and hang as you fell onto your elbows rather than your hands.

Sirius tutted as he rose from his seat in the corner, his beautifully tattooed body still glistening with sweat as he began pumping his cock while walking towards you, “Please, she’s not a pretty bunny, she’s a little cum slut. Dumb little bunny.”

You whined out at his degradation, your eyes squeezed shut as a wave of pleasure coursed through you causing you to let out a ragged breath. 

“See, she likes it, dumb bunny.” Though you couldn’t see him you were sure that he was grinning wickedly down at you.

“No m’not! I’m a pretty bunny,” You insisted, though your message was a bit undercut as you slurred your words.

“That’s right, pretty bunny,” Remus cooed, groping the globes of your ass in his hands, squeezing the flesh before pulling away to observe the handprints he left on your skin, if only for a moment.

“She wants to be, but she’s not, she’s just a cock hungry slut.” Sirius countered and you looked up at him with pleading eyes, desperately seeking his approval but all you got was a sneer as he pumped his cock next to your face.

“Not nice, Sir says you’re mean,” You whined as Remus continued to thrust in and out of you, rather enjoying watching the interaction between his two lovers.

“Oh is that right? Well, I don’t fucking care if I’m mean, you’re a dumb fuck bunny and if telling you that is mean then oh well,” He grasped your jaw in between his hand, forcing your head up at an uncomfortable angle to make eye contact with you, “Guess I’m mean.”

The whine you released at that was perhaps the most pathetic of the night, you felt pathetic at the gush of wetness you felt at his words, the pleasure in your belly progressing from a simmer to a boil as Remus’ hand reached around to find your clit, pinching the sensitive bundle of nerves between his thumb and forefinger.

“Don’t listen to him,” The man buried deep inside of your cunt told you, “You’re my pretty bunny, keep on being my pretty bunny, prove Daddy wrong.”

It was all too much, the contrast between Remus’ praising words and Sirius’ harsh ones, the sight of Sirius’ tattooed hand working up and down his shaft, Remus’ pace in and out of you and his hand on your clit. 

It was just all too much.

You could barely see straight as the pleasure boiling in your belly overflowed, like hot lava flowing you felt pleasure flow through your veins as you climaxed. Your orgasm left you feeling warm in every nook and cranny as your eyes rolled back into your head. It felt like you were underwater as your thoughts swam around you, mingling with the noises in the room around you.

Your head was still heavy as you opened your eyes which you hadn’t realized you’d squeezed shut, you jolted forward as Remus continued moving in and out of your pussy, trying to get away from his cock. Your orgasm had been electrifying leaving you sensitive but Remus didn’t seem to be relenting.

“Don’t recall telling you you could cum Poppet,” Remus said from behind you, and that’s when you realized why he wasn’t stopping, “Maybe Daddy was right, maybe you are just a dumb bunny.”

tagging: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @amourtentiaa @kittykylax @superbturtlemakerathlete

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

When you think about the individual statistics of the bnha / mha characters, no other person has lost as much as Shigaraki Tomura has.

Let's see a list of the people he has lost so far:

Nana Shimura, his grandma from his father side (dead).

His grandma from his mother side (dead).

His grandpa from his mother side (dead).

Nao Shimura, his mother (dead).

Kotaro Shimura, his father (dead).

Hana Shimura, his sister (dead).

Mon-chan, his dog (dead).

Kurogiri, his parental figure (captured).

AFO, another terrible parental figure (that man never loved him I mean).

Magne, a friend (dead).

Twice, a friend (dead).

Mr. Compress, a friend (captured).

Giran, a friend (captured).

Toga, a friend (unknown location).

And now he doesn't even have his own body. This boy has lost like no one on this manga. And the people who hasn't died, they have several consequences like losing fingers, losing arms, etc.

The deaths surrounding Shigaraki are also more explicit and terrible than the rest. He has witnessed himself a good number of those deaths, at least half of them. All of them have been directly related to him, which means Shigaraki can freely blame himself for what happened, even if those were accidents and even if the people actively choose to participate on the actions that lead them to their deaths.

Shigaraki has the greatest killing rate, thanks to the big waves of his quirk he used both on the MVA arc and the War arc.

He has all the reasons to believe he's a monster. The problem comes when you realize he is a created monster, he wasn't born like that, contrary to what AFO has suggested before. What happened on the MVA and the War arc are twin situations to what happened with Tenko the night his quirk awoken. He lost his mind and the control over his quirk, leading to great catastrophes. We have evidence that he was not thinking clearly on those moments of great kill, but he was rather in great pain and very very scared, tortured by his mind. That pain and fear was caused by a great abuse that generated the feeling of pure hatred. In his three big killings, there's a pattern of him remembering his past and what happened with the Shimuras.

Now, almost half of the people on the list above choose to sacrifice themselves. Three of those people do it in order to save Tomura: Nao Shimura, Kurogiri and Mr. Compress. They have in common that they acted as Shigaraki's parental figures. We could include AFO, but only if we see what happen on Kamino from Shigaraki's perspective. We could include Twice but he was not exactly sacrificing himself consciously, he wanted to scape alive.

Two people on that list tried to kill Shigaraki: Kotaro and AFO. Both tried to shape his mind into what they wanted it to be and that lead to Tomura being unstable and sometimes unpredictable. We can see the symbolism of this in the fact that Kotaro's hand was always over Tomura's face, almost wanting to erase his identity, and when AFO possessed Tomura one of the first things we saw was him tearing apart Tomura's face. Other moment related to this is Tomura's confession to Doctor Ujiko in the beginning of My Villain Academia, were he states that he couldn't remember clearly his life before AFO. With limited information, including the years of manipulation from AFO, Tomura came to the conclusion he would never be satisfied and he would rather destroy it all– except what his colleagues wanted to save.

However, the majority of the people on that list loved Tomura and wanted to see him safe. What does this boy has that people keeps sacrificing themselves in order to try and save him? What makes them want to save Tomura?

Not matter how hard AFO tried to make a monster out of Tomura, we see how people keep reaching for him seeking comfort or even seeking a better future. For some reason, Tomura generates love in the hearts of those closer to him. Magne, Twice, Giran, Kurogiri, Mr. Compress, all of them gave beautiful speechs of love and acceptance, of protecting the people they like, of working towards a better future. Nao ran towards her son, Hana apologized for leaving him while being scared.

Or if you like, let me give you the maximum example: Deku changed drastically his hero path after witnessing himself who exactly was the real Tomura Shigaraki.

The reason why Deku looks like a villain on the last chapters is because there's a war inside of him– and also because it's the closes he has ever been to understanding the villains, by being on their shoes. While peeking through Tomura's mind Deku finally realized the reality of the hero society condition, and Deku is currently on a painful progress of growing, along with going through a phase of being an outcast and a rejected kid himself. Like a child exposed to war, or like a child getting more mature after a big trauma, Deku is reshaping himself in the light of what he knows now but didn't know before. Living on the streets, not eating enough, having people wanting to put you aside so you wouldn't alter their safety or peace, being painted as a problem or an object or a weapon rather than being seen as a human being in need of help...

While AFO's plan was to make Tomura suffer to increase his hate, he couldn't predict that Tomura would be the one to inspire Deku to love in a way he has never love before. Tomura's breaking point was also the breaking point for Deku, but while Tomura dives into the darkness, Deku fights his way over the stormy clouds to reach for the light.

Ultimately, everything surrounding Tomura is exactly what allows MHA / BNHA to be the story of how Deku became the greatest hero out there. The fact that Tomura refused to give up, refused to be who everyone wanted to be... even if he fails again and again, what counts here is that he is unbreakable. Even in the deep of his conscious, he awaits for another chance. Deku and Tomura are the ones who surpassed any limits, any expectations, in order to produce a real change in the roots of society itself.

So you can say that in parallel with Deku, (and there are some interesting implications in this one), Tomura hasn't been defeated by the rain either. Like two sides of the same coin, either they drown together or rise together.