#type drabble write

[jjk4isen]

super annoying gojo satoru when a girl comes up to you and asks you if he's your brother even after clearly seeing him grabbing your ass and saying super cheesy lines to you to make you only roll your eyes at him.

and you're stuck dumbfounded because it's not rocket science to figure out that you two are a thing just by looking at the both of you because the clingy bastard is quite literally stuck to you everywhere you go, whining and pleading for yet another kiss after stealing several from you.

and it's the same clinginess that prompts him to answer in your stead "yes actually. we're siblings" he beams a smile at you and you scowl, why the hell is he feeding onto this random girl's delusions like that? can't he take the hint?

you're not done scrutinising him when he grabs your chin with his big ass hands and smashes his lips onto yours, tugging and devouring your mouth into an extra sloppy kiss for the girl to take a hint.

he pulls away, a smirk on his lips as he licks his lips where yours had been a second ago. "is that obvious enough?" he chuckles, eyes never leaving yours as you see the girl storm off in the corner of your eye.

[yayll]

~ a little something about waking up next to Dazai, and he's unbearable as always ~

"I might just eat you alive..." He mumbles to himself, barely audible. His eyes are half-lidded, and he's barely blinked.

He's been watching you sleep next to him curled up like a kitten for the past hour, way past the time you usually wake up. He's the oversleeper, not you, and it makes him hyper aware of your bodily functions and if they're okay. He hasn't eaten properly in days, but you don't need to know that. He's rabid, and he knows he's being a total freak right now, but who will worry for you if not for him? He must rise up to be the voice of reason, the watchful eye that keeps you on track even if he can barely keep himself alive! He wishes you'd stay forever, where he could avoid his problems and take care of your every single need. He should be everything you need... He hopes. Then you'd never leave, and he would make sure to eat more, just for you. How perfect... selfish.

God, he just wants to crawl inside of you and make you his home, it's almost pathetic. You'd find him vile for the things he would do for you and your happiness, despite you already being so accepting of his dark past... You're simply heaven sent. He takes a deep breath, and lightly runs his knuckles down your jawline, as if carving them out of the precious material that you're made of. You begin to stir, and his pupils dilate instantly as he pulls back with anticipation.

"Mmm... Osamu..."

You murmur sleepily as your chest rises up and down ever so slowly. He's freaking out. It's bad for his health to hear the way you say his name as if it were a healing oath, a spell that only works on him.

"Wakey wakey~"

Dazai's propping himself up on one elbow, a calculating smile plastered on his lips as if he were in on something you weren't. You pop open one eye, and groan softly.

"You're up... early"

"Yes!"

"Why..." You yawn like the silly little thing you are. He gasps in mock offense, clutching his chest.

"Can't a fortunate guy like ME just be happy that we both live to see another beautiful day?!"

He winks, and boops the tip of your nose, this gets a muffled snort out of you that causes you to bury your face into the pillow. He's addicted to the rush of causing any joy in your life, it's disgusting. When you don't lift your face back up, he scrunches up his face, and reaches out to stroke a strand of your silky hair, but his intrusive thoughts win and he tugs on it as payback for possibly falling asleep again. He needs your attention, and you're sleeping? Insanity. You swat at him, blindly smacking his arm away.

Oh, how he loves that you're the only person who truly sees him past his myriad of theatrics.

"Oh my... a slap from you feels wonderful!"

He rubs his arm, and grabs the hand that swatted him, bringing it up to kiss the pulse point on your wrist. Feather like kisses, almost undetectable... until you lift your face up from the pillow, finally.

He gazes at you as he rubs his face onto your hand like a cat greeting its owner, purring as if he were starved for affection. For a moment, his gaze becomes more serious, detached, as if he were thrown back into a distant memory. He can't describe the feeling, but the way your hand feels against his cheek is a warmth he hasn't felt in ages. His eyes sting, and he blinks the wetness away before you can notice as he hears your angelic voice again. He's back to his usual self.

"Osamu... You're being annoying"

"You think I'm just annoying?~"

His voice comes out in a tender whisper, his mouth curled up into a mischievous grin. He's insufferable. He could be anything for you if you wanted it. Especially annoying! He almost drools when you roll your eyes affectionately at him, the coldness in his heart disappears as he leans in just a little, invading your personal space as always, eager to hear your reply.

"Amongst other things, yes..."

You flash him a sweet little smile, and it mends all that is wrong in the world. The pink in your cheeks is starting to turn red, and it sends him to the moon. He hums, slowly nuzzling himself into the crook of your neck, it's his turn to curl up. You run your fingers through his messy hair that tickles you, feeling the warmth of Dazai's breaths against the back of your ear.

"Hmm, do I look like a pillow to you?"

He can hear the smile in your murmur, and he pulls back from your neck briefly, peering at you through his messy bangs, those intense hazelnut eyes demanding your attention, and his voice drips with an aching devotion that oozes like honey. he moves his lips to your ear, and whispers.

".. You look like an angel to me."

He watches you self destruct at his painfully smooth delivery of a compliment, and secretly rewards himself for once again giving you another reason to never leave. He's got it all!

Romance, self deprecating humor, an inability to properly process his emotions and grief, but more importantly, an undying commitment to stay alive against all odds so that he may see another day of you in his arms... or you helping him change his bandages... or-

He's cut short by you grabbing the sides of his face and pulling him into the most sinfully delicious kiss known to man, and he could swear that despite all his efforts, this might be what ACTUALLY kills him.

[heich0e]

the itadori house always smells faintly of clean laundry.

it's not because the two boys who live there are particularly diligent about staying on top of their housework—the towering pile of recyclables in the corner of the kitchen is proof enough of that—but it's because the first time yuuji had tried to do his own laundry, he used way too much detergent. the ensuing tsunami of soap suds had flooded nearly half-way across the tiny apartment—coating the floors, the baseboards, and anything else in its path, in a slippery (though pleasantly fragranced) froth that took DAYS for the two brothers to clean up. it must have sunk in to the floorboards, or there must still be traces of it lingering in nooks and crannies that they couldn't reach, because even now, years after the catastrophe, the scent still lingers.

even though the mere mention of the incident still makes a vein of irritation throb in sukuna's forehead, and makes yuuji hang his head in shame, you don't mind the smell. it's familiar after all these years. it reminds you of this place.

you burrow your face down into the cushion of the living room sofa. it's raining today, and a bit humid, so the scent of detergent is particularly strong.

you're nearly asleep when a voice interrupts your quiet moment of relaxation.

"i should start charging you rent, y'know."

you don't open your eyes, even once you hear the words that come from above you. even without looking, you can picture the scene: sukuna leaning over the back of the sofa that you're sprawled across, his weight resting on his elbows as he peers down at you with his usual scowl. it's not the same scowl he shows to everyone else—the one that makes people shrink back under his gaze—this is a softer version of the same expression, dulled by familiarity. if you were more optimistic you might even say it was blunted by affection.

"stop pretending to sleep, kid." you feel his hand grasp your hip, shaking you lightly. "i know you're faking."

you feel a smile threatening to pull at your lips so you turn your face towards the pillow—the one you bought for the sofa, since the itadori brothers' idea of home decor is limited to creased posters for old mafia movies nobody's ever heard of and women with their tits out taped to the wall—and you burrow down to hide your expression from view.

"you're such a nuisance," sukuna groans, and then you feel the sofa dip. you figure he's pulled himself over the back of it now, based on how you feel him kneeling overtop of you with your legs straddled between his own. you're on your belly, but you can feel him rest back on his haunches, trapping your feet underneath him as he sits. "can't you nap at your own house?"

"too tired," you finally rasp out, daring to peek at him over your shoulder.

"and i'm not?" he scoffs, lifting his hand and pushing his hair back from his face. he's still half-dressed in his work uniform—a pair of slacks from the security company he's been working at part-time for the past few weeks, and a white t-shirt that he usually wears underneath the short sleeved button down that matches the trousers. "i just worked a double—been up since 4."

he does look tired, now that you have the chance to look at him. his hair is a bit dishevelled and he's got dark circles under his eyes. sukuna always looks a bit exhausted—and has since grandpa passed away and he took on the responsibility of raising yuuji. but it's particularly noticeable right now.

"and i can't even come home and take a nap on my own couch because there's a freeloader here."

you bite the inside of your cheek, wiggling around a bit underneath him so you can lay on your back.

"charge me rent then," you parry back to his complaint, and he cocks an eyebrow at your challenge. "i want a bed though. s'only fair."

"we'll get bunkbeds for yuuji's room, then," sukuna quips.

"don't wanna bunk with yuuji," you counter again, "he snores."

sukuna pauses, staring down at you. he leans forward slowly, his hands pressing into the couch cushion on either side of your waist as he dips towards you. "only one other bedroom in this place, y'know—"

you do know. it's why you said it.

"—and i have no plans to give up my bed."

sukuna is close to you now. too close, in any other circumstance, but this is one entirely of your own creation. a circumstance that feels more like an inevitability than anything, given the tension that's been crackling between the two of you lately, ever since he rescued you that night at the bar.

"didn't ask you to give it up," you say quietly, your eyes flickering across his features until they eventually settle on his lips.

sukuna makes a little noise in the back of his throat, close to annoyance, but not quite. distinctly tortured in nature.

"you really, really are a nuisance, y'know that?"

his hands are on your hips now. not like when he'd shaken you awake—this touch is greedier, needier than that passing graze. his fingertips slip up underneath the hem of your shirt until they brush against your bare skin, and the contact makes your body flush with heat.

"yuuji's gonna be back from class soon," you murmur softly, your gaze flickering back up to sukuna's heavy-lidded eyes. his nose twitches a little in annoyance, knowing you're right.

sukuna backs away a little, his hands slipping back out from underneath your shirt.

you sit up and catch his wrist in your hand, and his eyes widen in surprise. your faces are close together now—so close you can smell the cinnamon gum on his breath. he stole a pack from you a few days ago, and clearly he's still chewing it.

you can't smell the laundry detergent anymore.

"i didn't tell you to stop," you remark lightly, leaning back so you're splayed out against the sofa once more. you stare up at him, waiting for him to process what you've said—watching the thoughts play out across his uncharacteristically shocked face. "i just meant that you should hurry up and do it already."

[centaur-dreaming]

All fic writers have that one document in their drafts that would end their entire career, social life, everything if anyone irl were to find it

[dragon-ascent]

Zhongli as a lover is the whole package. Case in point -

Photographic memory:

He remembers you saying how much you liked sweets, so on dates, he always takes you to places like bakeries and confectioneries. New ice cream parlor just opened? You're his first thought. And on fancier outings, he makes sure in advance that the dessert spread will be to your liking.

You'd once mentioned to Zhongli, in passing, about some obscure little dolls you once saw on a pamphlet. The doll collection was from a small creator, and was set to be released in eight months. You'd thought they looked pretty neat, but you'd definitely forget about them in a few months even before their official release since you no longer have that pamphlet.

Guess what? On release day a long time later, Zhongli presents the dolls to you, having been first in line to procure them.

Attention to detail:

He can tell by even the slightest of changes in your gait, perhaps a slower walk, or a slight frown of suppressed discomfort, that your new shoes are giving you shoebite. So he takes you into the nearest shoe store and buys you some nice new comfier ones (that still go with your carefully-styled outfit). When you two get home, he'll also massage your feet with his gentle hands, kissing the bruises as he does so (his smile growing as he registers how flustered you become at that).

Emotional stability:

Zhongli is pretty much your rock, pun possibly intended, when it comes to challenging situations. Whether you need a shoulder to cry on, somebody to vent to, or simply a catalyst to help you through a difficult time, Zhongli has it all.

Any disagreements you two may have never escalate because he catches himself in time to defuse the situation. It's always you and him versus the problem, not you versus him. His communication and reasoning skills are on point.

Conversationalist:

There's never a time when Zhongli runs out of things to talk about with you. He can go on for hours about anything under the sun, and there's always a story ready on his tongue for whenever you might want to hear it. Your nights are decorated with his tales, your dreams mirroring Zhongli's narrations like they were the script and you're a part of the play.

Zhongli only prefers to share fun things with you, so that you wouldn't get bored - but you always tell him how you'd attentively listen to him go on about even laundry.

All-around Adaptability:

Zhongli can do it all - whether it's being the big spoon, little spoon, sunshine, sunshine protector, the calm one, the lovesick puppy, the brains, the brawn, the one who encourages you to take risks or the one who keeps you from doing rash things. This god is multifaceted like gold, and he chooses to shine on you.

Never shall Celestia find a lover like him again.

[sakanoshitaa]

you had never particularly liked sharing a bed with anyone. tolerated, sure. you shared a bed with a handful of people through college and your early twenties- hookups, situationships, partners. but you always hated cuddling while sleeping. the sensation of being touched, the sound of the other’s breathing, all too much and preventing you from drifting off.

your partners learned to accept your “no touching while sleeping” rule. you cuddled plenty in the morning, but were alone at night. when one of you went out of town you secretly relished in having the bed all to yourself.

you thought this was how it would always be. that you were just different and liked sleeping alone. that is, until you met kuroo.

in so many ways, your relationship with him was unlike anything you had ever experienced. everything was so easy, you two just fit together. you understood that he was your person. and you were surprised to find that you didn’t mind sleeping curled up against him, wrapped in his arms. his touch comforted, rather than perturbed. you had no trouble falling asleep pressed into tetsuro.

after a few months of living together, he left for a couple weeks on a jva business trip. astonishingly, when you went to lay down the night he left, you were sad to find the bed empty. you found yourself having a hard time falling asleep without him, when for so long, with anyone else, it was the opposite. a foreign feeling. welcome, but still a little hollow, especially with how long he’d be away.

each night when you go to bed, you find yourself laying there, cold and a little lonely in the big bed. turning your thoughts over and over in your head like a rounded, flat pebble. wishing you were wrapped in tetsuro’s warm, secure embrace.

[heretoobsessstuff]

“we’re all gonna miss major Cleven, sir”.

Major Cleven John thought bitterly. Gale. Sweet beautiful Gale. Gale who was there. In the cockpit. Fighting for his life while John was sleeping next to a random woman. Gale who was falling from the sky. Living his last moments. Losing blood. In pain. Scared and cold and alone. While John was here in London. Drinking and coaxing a random woman to spend more time in his bed. Where was Gale now? His Gale. Laying on the dirt and mud somewhere? Lost in some distant German field with no one to look for him? His ocean blue eyes forever closed? What had become of him? Of his Gale? Was anything even left of him?

John felt sick with anger. His thoughts ran wild with no one to tame them. I should’ve never left him alone. I should’ve been up there with him. Protecting him. Looking out for him. It was supposed to be me and him left up in the sky. Not me in London and him lost somewhere I can never reach. It’s all my fault. I failed him. I failed him. Grief clawing at his throat. Suffocating him. His eyes stinging with unshed tears and the lump he had swollen down a hundred times with the alcohol. He needed to go. Avenge Buck. Or find him. Or join him. Wherever he was.

“Don’t worry Kenny” he said. Jumping into the Jeep. Hands shaking. “I don’t even feel it”.

Read Another drabble from Gale’s POV here:

[tartagliove]

8:00pm

zhongli x reader ✧ fluff, a touch of melancholy that comes with all archons ✧ 0.6k

Your thighs burn by the time you reach the waterfall on the outskirts of Liyue Harbor. The oppressive summer heat is just starting to ease as evening arrives, and you naturally run hot due to your Pyro vision, so sweat slides down the side of your face and your clothes stick to your skin.

You aren’t expecting to see a familiar figure standing on the bridge, hands clasped behind his back as he looks out at the city. 

“Zhongli!” you call out, waving as he turns to face you. 

He waits for you to get close before greeting you. “Good evening,” he says warmly. “Are you here to watch the sunset?”

“Good evening to you too! Yes, I’m here for the sunset as I enjoy my dinner.” You hold up what appears to be a bright red sack, but really is a large picnic blanket holding all your food and tied together with a bit of rope.

Zhongli seems intrigued, eyes passing from the blanket to your face. “Is this something you do often?”

“Oh, yes. At least once a week, if I can. The breeze off the waterfall feels so nice in the summer, and the climb here forces me to get a bit of exercise.”

He nods in understanding. “I see.” He looks into the distance, at the setting sun glinting off the rooftops of buildings in the city. You do the same, happy to be in his company.

After a moment of silence, Zhongli says, “I do not wish to disturb your evening plans, so I will take my leave. I hope you will enjoy your dinner.”

You blink in surprise, disappointment a bitter taste in your mouth. You had hoped he would stay, that you would get to talk to him more. “Oh- alright. Have a good night, Zhongli.”

He dips his head and returns your farewell. The bridge floorboards shift slightly under your feet as he steps away from the railing and passes behind you, shoes clicking against the wood. His hair sways with his movement, brown strands glittering under the sun.

Something about him turning his back to you makes your heart ache. He stands tall, head steadily looking forward, and yet– he looks like he has grown accustomed to a lifetime of solitude.

Without thinking, you call out after him. “Zhongli!” When he pauses and turns back to face you, your cheeks feel hot as you blurt out an invitation. “Would you like to join me?”

–

The sun has nearly set by the time you finish up your dinner. You are glad you brought a variety of steamed buns and a cucumber salad, as you were able to share some buns with Zhongli. The conversation has been light and pleasant, both of you rather absorbed in eating and watching the bright blue sky shift into warm yellows, oranges, and reds.

“This has been relaxing,” Zhongli says, breaking the silence.

You smile, pleased that he stayed the entire time and seemed to enjoy it. “I’m glad! It’s nice to take a break, isn’t it? You are welcome to join me for dinner and sunset watching anytime,” you offer, keeping your tone light and even despite the quickening beat of your heart.

He turns to look at you. The last rays of sunlight make his eyes glow from within, all golden and bright like refined Cor Lapis. “Is that so?” he asks. A small smile curves his lips. “I would like that. Next time, I’ll bring something as well—Osmanthus wine, perhaps?”

His voice is so wistful that all you can do is nod and smile, helpless in the face of all his sun-reflected glory.

requested by @fandomsuggestions for my camping event. reblogs and comments are much appreciated!

[johnslittlespoon]

plsssss can we talk about bucky getting his revenge and edging gale

gale edging john post | yes we cannnnn !! eta: ykw. i need to just turn this into a proper oneshot since this ended up being over 1k words. new wip created </3

john may be a man of little self control, but after that incident, he decides he can be at least a tiny bit patient so he can catch gale off guard with it when he gets his revenge. because the next few times they're fooling around, gale's expecting a retaliation, john can see it in the way he tenses up and glances at his face before he comes like he's waiting for it, but john never follows through with it. he wants gale to let his guard down, and that he does.

so a week or so later when john's kissing him and feeling him up and asks ever so sweetly if he can tie gale's wrists behind his back, gale doesn't think anything of it. john likes to take control occasionally and gale sometimes likes the feeling of not having to worry about making decisions, getting to let john call the shots, and john always puts extra time and effort into the way he touches gale when he's restrained because he likes to watch his darling blondie squirm.

john has him sit in his lap facing him, letting gale lean against his shoulder to take the pressure off his legs while john works him open on his fingers, already riled up from the pretty gasps gale's making against his neck but reigning himself in because he's gonna need to have some self control for once.

he sweet–talks gale through it, telling him how good he sounds, how well he's doing as he sinks down on his cock, guiding him with hands on his hips so he doesn't unbalance himself without the use of his own hands where they're tied behind his back with a belt. he stays still at first, letting gale ride him slowly, keeping his hands loosely on his waist while praising him and talking him into that foggy needy headspace until gale's thighs are trembling and john takes pity on him (and frankly is so hard he doesn't have the patience to keep his own hips still anymore).

so he runs his hands down from gale's waist to his ass to hold him in place while he rolls his hips up into him, watching the way gale's eyebrows pinch and his pretty lips fall open in a silent oh as john angles himself in a way gale couldn't with his own movements. lets his mouth run as he slowly picks up his pace, all the coos of "so pretty", "you're taking me so well", "you feel so fucking good", loving how reactive gale is to every word and every thrust.

he moves his hands to gale's hips to get a better grip, can tell gale's getting close because he gets noisier, losing his filter and letting out breathy little "fuck"s and "john"s, head rolling back on his shoulders to bare his neck, rocking his hips down to meet john every time he fucks up into him. and then just as he gets the warning of "close", he pulls gale down by his hips to bury himself deep in him and stops moving completely.

the whine of desperation that tears out of gale's throat when he lifts his head has john knocking his skull back against the wall, cock twitching hard enough inside gale that he's sure the blond can feel it. he watches gale's biceps flex when he instinctively tries to get his hands free, feels his hips try to squirm out of his hands to keep moving, but he keeps him pinned firmly down, dizzy at the way he clenches down around him.

a plaintive "john" pulls a groan from him, but he composes himself, lifts his gaze back up to gale's face and lets the corners of his lips quirk up, purrs out a "yeah, sweetheart? something wrong?"

laughs at the way gale cusses him out, a rare sight of his little spitfire with a mouth on him, though the effect is a lot closer to being hissed at by a kitty than actually being convinced to move. john lets him run his mouth, murmurs a "cute" once gale's done, and then promptly hammers his hips up into him just once, swearing under his breath at the way it punches an open–mouthed moan from gale. rocks his hips up into him a few times before going back to a quick and rough pace, the sound of skin on skin getting both of them flushed.

it only takes a minute before gale's hips are twitching into his hands and whispered pleas are falling from his mouth and john thinks he's never had to use as much self restraint in his life as he does when he forces himself to stop moving again, once again yanking gale down against him, holding him still in his lap.

gale really fights it this time, enough so that it's a merciful distraction for john from how close he himself is (trust his idea to backfire as he ends up edging himself along with gale, he thinks) when he has to use proper strength to keep him in place. any blood that might've still been lurking around his brain rushes south the moment he sees gale's eyes getting shiny with frustration, cheeks all pink and lips red and flushed from biting down on them.

"not so fun, is it?" john taunts, but his voice comes out a bit more raspy than he would've liked, evident how much the stop and start is getting to him too. it's probably karma, because he knows he's being more mean than gale was to him, but he can't help it; those blue eyes look so pretty when tears are threatening to spill over when he's desperate and needy like this.

gale wriggles in his lap the best he can, still furiously chasing his orgasm, head finally falling back in frustration before he lifts it again, looking john in the eyes, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and letting it go. he whines quietly and whimpers out the sweetest "please, johnny," almost crying in his impatience, and fuck.

john doesn't mean for his hips to twitch up at that, but they do, hard. gale sobs out a broken sound at the way john's cock hits just where he needs it to in his accidental movement, and gale spills over his stomach completely untouched, just like that. john swears and drives his hips up into him in an attempt to quickly amend his slip up, moaning loud at the wrecked noises that immediately start bubbling up out of gale as he fucks him through his orgasm.

he tips over the edge himself from the desperate sounds the blond starts to make as he crosses the line into overstimulation, feeling gale's hips jerk frantically in his hands, fighting to get away from the incessant rhythm of his cock inside him as john shudders through his own orgasm, fingers digging into gale's sides.

he slows down to a gentle grind of his hips when gale collapses against his chest, face pressed to his neck, shivering at the slow drag inside him and whining pitifully when john eventually pulls out, settling him down on his thighs while he reaches around to undo the belt and free his hands. his heart bursts at the way gale instantly wraps his arms around him, clinging to him as they both catch their breath, john petting his hair and showering him with praise.

he eventually huffs out a laugh, murmuring a "sorry buck. payback's a bitch, but that was an accident, i swear." gale groans against him in complaint, lightly nipping at his shoulder in retaliation, too tired to fight back, but john's sure he'll pay for it eventually.

it's confirmed with the "better watch your back, darling" that he gets when they're both pulling their clothes back on, but to john, that sounds less like a threat and more like a good time, and he shoots gale a crooked grin to let him know as much.

[starboundpix]

Oh to ride a motorcycle with Eclipse…

If you were riding on your own, you think the wind would blow you clean off the motorcycle with how fast the two of you are going—certainly nowhere close to the speed limit. But Eclipse’s chest presses against your back, firm and unwavering, and his arms cage you in, one set reaching past you to grasp the handlebars, the other set wrapping around your waist.

Your own hands rest on top of his, fingers fiddling with crimson and navy blue ones. Playing with them is subconscious; you’re held captive by the sunset, shadows lengthening around you under the orange and yellow and soft pink sky.

“You doing alright?” Eclipse asks, loud enough for you to hear through the helmet he had slipped over your head before you started your trip.

Tilting your head back, you look up at him. “I’m doing great!”

He nods, pleased. You’re a vision in the golden sunlight—eyes shining through the raised visor, bits of hair fighting to be free of the helmet, lips upturned in a brilliant grin. He immediately captures the moment, saving the file in a folder dedicated to his favorite things, which lately has been filling up with files of you.

“And you?” you ask.

The question takes him by surprise even though it shouldn’t; you’re one of the few humans that has shown genuine interest in how he feels, which is part of why he had been enchanted by you so quickly.

Eclipse properly threads his fingers with yours, making you laugh as he pulls you tighter against him. “I’m perfect,” he replies, much to your delight.

The two of you continue on your journey with the setting sun illuminating the road ahead, darkening skies following from behind, and an early evening star peering down on a lone motorcycle carrying two passengers who fill the dusk air with warm affection and laughter.

[rodolfoparras]

Thinking about how Price finds pleasure in pain | 18+, MINORS DNI

Content tags: face slapping

Being in the military meant that Price was no stranger to pain. Wounds, big as small littered his body on daily bases and at some point he became accustomed to the aches and stings that came with having them. Not only has he grown accustomed to the pain, he’s come to enjoy it as well, meaning that he enjoys getting slapped during sex.

He’d told you about this early on in your relationship, never one to hide things from his partner. You’d been surprised to say the least but it was something you were willing to try with him and once you felt prepared enough, you decided to indulge in his kink.

You’re straddling his waist with both your hands cupping his face. You’ve been reading about the subject, discussing boundaries and setting up safe words with him but you still can’t help but feel nervous at this very moment. So many things can go wrong and the last thing you want is to hurt him.

But Price looks relaxed as ever, sporting a small smile on his face as soft cerulean eyes peer up at you beneath long black lashes. He looks something akin to an angel. However if one were to look closer they’d see his flushed cheeks and the desire swirling in his iris and they’d know he is a mere mortal, more than eager to sin.

“Ready when you are, love” he says, voice as relaxed as he appears to be with a bit of anticipation peaking through it.

Price laughs when you first slap his face, since the slap is rather soft and playful, hand still a bit unsure and careful. However he quickly ensures you that he is quite alright, kisses the palm of your hand and nuzzles into your touch.

“Do it again, harder this time, yeah?” His voice now as firm as his request and this time you see the desire trickle past the relaxed facade.

The second time you slap his cheek, he gasps in surprise and blinks rapidly.

Just as you’re about to ask if he’s alright, Price looks at you, eyes now glassy and lips wet, and voice sounding a bit hoarse when he says “Good, that was good”

As you get more comfortable with slapping him, you’ll start to see just how much he really enjoys this. He’ll softly gasp every time you slap his face, his cheeks will flush red and for a second his eyes will widen, flashing with something you’d quickly learn was desire. Because every time you slap him he’ll lean closer to your face, only to pull you in for a passionate kiss and mutter a “Please fuck me” against your lips.

You had also learned that slapping him was a rather useful tool to get him to communicate what he wants and needs since he has a tendency to get lost in pleasure and forgets how to communicate properly.

So when you notice that his words are fizzling out into mere nods and hums, and he stops responding altogether to your questions, you’ll give a soft slap to his cheek. “speak” you say to him and that’s enough for him to tell you what he needs.

You quickly soothe the sting with a gentle rub to his cheek and with praise falling from your lips “Good there, pretty” you coo, fingertips gently gliding over flushed skin. The soothing touch to his cheek is a stark contrast to the stinging he feels and that in itself has him feeling lightheaded, cock hard and weeping inside his pants and pleas for more falling from his lips.

It’s also a rather useful tool in bed when you need to steer him in the right direction. Price will be down on his knees, head buried between your legs and tasked with focusing on your release. But he’d quickly forget all about it as he ruts his hips against whatever flat surface there is, desperately searching for any sort of relief. As much as it’s a sight to see his tousled hair, the flush on his cheeks, the way his teeth sinks into his bottom lip as he chases his release, this isn’t what he’s supposed to be doing.

Your hand glides down to his cheek, palm cupping supple skin before you slap his cheek. He gasps at that, eyes blinking at you in surprise before a whimper escapes his mouth. “None of that, love. Be good and I’ll reward you for it, yeah?” He furiously nods his head at that, apologies tumbling from his lips along with incoherent babbling as he nuzzles up into your touch.

Slap him as he gets closer to his release, he loves it. It’s a sight to see since up until that point he's quite vocal about what he wants and needs. But when he’s so far gone, tethering on the edge of his release, he can barely get a word out, using gestures and noises to ask you to slap him.

He’d be pinned down to the mattress, looking up at you with his eyelids hanging low and mouth agape, drool dripping down his chin as he tugs at your hand, clearly asking for something.

“What do you want?” You cup his cheek, thumb stroking sensitive skin as you smile up at him, knowing that you’re dangling what he really wants right in front of him.

When no response comes, you tighten your grip on him, fingernails sinking into supple skin causing him to wince “Use your words”

“ so - so close please just please here, please here, slap here” Price says, eyes watery, lips wobbly and hands gently pushing yours against his cheek.

“Good boy” You smile at that before you firmly slap his cheek.

“I’m- I’m ” he cries out, unable to even finish his sentence, back arching off the bed, eyes shut tight and cumming all over himself.

Definitely comfortable with having you slap him in other places as well. You can slap his thighs, his chest or you can even slap his dick. It’ll have him quivering and gasping for breath, hips desperately rutting in the air as he begs of you to fuck him. Definitely one you have to keep an eye on since he can easily get lost in it. He’ll be all marked up from your hands, skin still tingling from your touch yet he’d be still begging for more.

Hell, at times you’ll get to the point where he’s rendered speechless, incoherent words falling from his lips, drool dripping down his chin and eyes glassy and pleading for you to do it again, again and again, please.

Will obsess over the marks you left on him, constantly rubs at his thighs, chest or face without being aware of it, too busy being consumed with the pleasant sting that comes from caressing sensitive skin.

He’ll especially obsess over the ones on his face, tinted pink and clearly visibly on his pale skin. He’ll be sitting at his desk rubbing his cheek while filling out some paperwork he’d been tasked with doing. But he’ll quickly turn rock hard in his chair thinking about how the marks had gotten there in the first place.

Definitely gets disappointed once the marks start to fade and will quickly be on your tail asking you to mark him up again.

[heich0e]

keishin lives in a little one room apartment attached to the back of sakanoshita market.

calling it an apartment is a bit of a stretch—it's more a converted storage room than anything. there's a door to a cramped bathroom on one wall, a makeshift kitchen comprised of a hotplate and a mini fridge along the other. the room is scarcely large enough to fit the lumpy sofa his grandfather was getting rid of years ago and an old chabudai that's missing a leg so it's propped up on side by an old milk crate, and that leaves just enough floor space to lay out a futon at the end of the day (though he often just falls asleep on the sofa, and wakes up in the morning with terrible back pain.) it's a humble space, to say the very least, but it's his—and it affords him a bit more freedom than living in the family house.

you live in an apartment just down the road.

the first time ukai visits your place, the very first thing he notices how much it smells like you—clean and sweet and dizzying. the apartment feels warm and soft like you too. it's tidy but lived in, with traces of you filled in to every corner—the photos on the wall, the colourful mug on the dish rack by the kitchen sink, the houseplants flourishing near the window with their lush bright green leaves. your apartment is so different to his. you're so different to him.

but there's just something about it that immediately feels like home.

[fbfh]

omg i love painting my nails but i always end up chiping them because of ✨️ anxiety ✨️

RODRICK THINKS THAT'S THE CUTEST FUCKING THING EVER. There's tons of girls at your school with perfect manicures, but he likes the way yours chip as you use your hands, as you play his drums and help him study and pick at them. It looks more organic. It's like a comfy worn in pair of jeans, and he thinks it makes your hands look so pretty. plus it's an easy way for him to moniter how bad your anxiety has been recently. If you call him instead of texting because your nails are drying and by the end of the next day they're almost bare again, he knows to stay extra close to you. He knows to send you playlists and extra I love you texts throughout the day. He drives a little slower when you go places in his van and parks a little more carefully, and if you even look like you might want to talk, he's already so down. He'll blast your favorite album in an empty parking lot so you know no one can possibly overhear you, and lets you spill your guts. He'll hug you if you want, or kiss you, or just be a shoulder to cry on (literally and figuratively) and if you have any breathing exercises or coping strategies, he knows them like the back of his hand. He's always down to repeat affirmations to you and hype you up and ask what would Billie Joe Armstrong or Gerard Way do. He kisses the back of your hand while you drive and lets you pick the music and keeps the seat pushed all the way up for you, he'll stay up late texting you, even wake up from a dead sleep bc he has your ringtone and text tone set to the loudest one, just in case you need him. He knows people think he's a loser or a screw up, but the two things he's never going to half ass are music and being there for you. in spite of what people might think, he's a really good fucking boyfriend.

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Dawn

I am back because i got home from work and I got no chill! :D @spotaus

First one Prev drabble Next one

Okay. So why this one? Because i realised it was a while since i wrote a drabble from Horror's point of view and that is criminal and it is a great excuse for me to showcase some stuff from the quiet and very observing sockets of Horror! (also gives me an excuse to not think about the drabble order i got now and that thought i messed it up a bit which I need to think of a solution for)

Ready? Let's go!

*------------------------*

Horror makes sure to carefully close the door to the greenhouse. It is still early but he is used to those.

He enjoys the cool fresh air as he walks towards the house, small basket filled with fresh monster food. Horror is happy he got permission from Crop to harvest the plants in there for their meals.

He quietly opens the door and listens for a moment. He saw Cross leave the farm a little while ago to do his own morning workouts and by the sounds of it the other three are still asleep.

Which is good because he needs his own sleep. Horror knows very well that Dust is the one to wake up with Nightmare if something bothers him in his sleep.

He found the two of them awake and reading a book one too many times for Horror to believe they just had an allnighter.

Horror likes being up early. Maybe strange for him but he got used to it in his old universe. The best time to check his traps and search for food had been in the very early morning, or very late night depending on how you look at it, as most people would be asleep.

It is a leftover habit and he just kept going with it when he joined Nightmare's gang.

He puts the food away in all the right places and goes about getting the ingredients for todays breakfast. He notices the fresh milk and eggs and the choice is obvious. Some pancakes would be great.

He starts preparing the ingredients as he takes the time to measure it all. The milk makes him chuckle.

Watching Cross realises there was a cow had been funny. Finding Cross in a tree shaking with a cow under it had been hilarious. Crop ahd been apologetic as he explained that his cow, Betty (Killer had mutters "of course it is claled betty") was aparently mischievious.

Horror had his doubts but Cross swore that the cow would know when he left the farmhouse. That the cow would stand at the edge of her field and stare at him.

Cross did not go to the east side of the farm anymore. aparently that was Betty's territory in his mind.

Nightmare liked petting Betty however so you have your ups and downs.

Horror mixes the ingredients slowly but surely. Thinking about Nightmare, "Shouldn't you still be in bed?"

silence before a soft mutter "Not tired anymore."

Horror chuckles as he shoots Nightmare a look. He looks fully awake and adorable in his new wool sweater. Horror grins "God powers?"

Nightmare shrugs "I mean probably. I never needed sleep before. that is still new." They hadn't really noticed anything that could be connected to Nightmare's godhood at the moment. Maybe it had gone domant, at least that was Cross's guess. Dust just thinks Nightmare's magic is now focussed on healing instead of weird god shenenigans.

Speaking of healing! Horror gives him a stern look "bandages?"

Nightmare rolls his eye lights but mutters his answer "All still in place and good. Killer replaced them after the bath last night,"

Horror nods. With that secured he relaxes abit "Want to help?"

Nightmare is already by his side and stands on his tiptoes. Horror chuckles as he gives him a look "Need a chair?" he would offer a stepstool but the chair is more stable for him.

Nightmare looks at the counter annoyed before nodding his agreement. Horror grabs a chair and puts it near the counter. Nightmare climbs it easily.

Horror really wants to pick him up but they do have the rule that inside Nightmare should walk around himself to carefully train his spine. It is still much to early to already start carrying him. Horror knows that if any of them start they won't stop.

Nightmare reaches for the ingredients, some fruits for inside the pancakes, before pausing and staring at his sweater.

Nightmare has been very careful with his new gifted clothes. Horror himself is also very careful with the set of clothes Dust got him.

Horror frowns at the food he is making. He really hopes he can quickly find soemthing to do here to earn money. At the moment only Dust has something and it is starting to show, even Killer seems to be getting annoyed with himself over it.

Until now Horror and Cross helped around on Crop's farm. Which he was happy to do as it only seemed fair as a way to repay Crop for letting them stay. Horror has also been learning the basics about farming, farmland and farmwork from Crop. It is still a lot and not everything sticks in his skull, probably falling out of that hole. But he is getting better at it. He hopes with this Crop can maybe get the news out that both of them are more than willing to help around with heavy duty work and get a bit of cash flow.

Killer... Killer has a very specific set of skills. Sadly not specifically useful on a farm. Even if he is great with the animals and can herd pretty much anything, which is very useful but well. Most people won't let you near their animals unless they trust you and Killer is Killer.

Horror just feels bad that Dust is pretty much still Ngihtmare's main caretaker, got the rough end with the backstory they settled on, and has to deal with work to get cash. Only to spend all of it on them all.

Horror can see it is starting to wear him down. He just hopes they can figure out how to balance everything better.

It is another reason he loves these mornings. Because morning time means Dust, and Killer, both sleep in and Horror gets time to supervise their babybones. Horror adores the time wiht Nightmare. Especially when alone because then others don't watch them nervously the whole time.

It is exhausting to be seen as something dangerous even if he knows it is true. It is why they mean so much to him, they never treated him like that. None of them did.

A glance confirms that Nightmare has carefuly rolled up the sleeves and is taking extra care with cutting the fruits, using one of the duller knives which won't be able to cut bone. Horror turns back to getting everything else ready. He has to concentrate to push his intent into the food. He wants them to enjoy and like it. Feel the things he can't say to them.

Horror knows what he wants and feels but also knows none of them are ready to hear it. Horror has known that from the moment he realised what he felt was. The curse of being the only emotional stable one.

He still remembers all the way back near the start of them meeting and chuckles to himself. they did not get along at all.

Nightmare immediantly looks up "What is funny?" he looks adorably confused.

Horror thinks for a moment "Remember when you brought me in?"

Nightmare blinks before giving a slow nod "Yeah... I had hoped you would calm Killer and Dust."

Horror chuckles "Can't believe you thought i could do that."

Ngihtmare shrugs as he finishes up his task and just sits normally on the chair "I mean... It worked." his hands find the glass of juise Horror got him.

Horror pauses for a moment before nodding. Nightmare is kinda right with that one. It hadn't worked right away but he made it work. Mostly because he had had a lot of motivation.

Nightmare, still a fully active god at that point, had offered him that he would slowly but surely fix the food problem in his universe in trade for his service, something about it being too severe for him to be able to instantly fix but if Horror worked for him he would work on it. Horror had figured Nightmare had known about his little weird immortality situation with his own universe's core and accepted.

Turns out he just wanted him to fix whatever had been going on with Killer and Dust. Because they would fight. Constantly. And those two got very close to killing each other a few times.

Horror had eventually managed to somehow form a connection and bond with Killer. It had been rather easy and Horror was able to become friends with him over coworkers. Eventually find him not just annoying but funny. And later think fondly of his antics.

Dust took longer. Which had been a combination of Dust just being an introvert and not looking for connections or at least not in the way that made that clear to Horror. And well Horror heard bits and pieces of what Dust had done and had honestly been disgusted with the idea that Dust just murdered his whole universe and his own brother. Just to fight one human? Just to end a timeloop?

It was well after he managed to get them to stop, or at least contain the damage of, their fighting. Well after he started working for Nightmare more permanently that Horror realised how the multiverse worked.

And how fucking unfair it was.

Because aparently? stupid fate or some shit? That decided how your universe worked. His would always have ended up with a famine and starvation. Killer would always lose control and be controlled, abused and used by the human. Cross would always be the end of his universe. Dust... Dust would always have to kill his universe. No matter what he tried or solution he tried.

It wasn't until later Horror learned that Dust had tried everything. Multiple times. That Dust had learned to play multiple musical instruments in the time of resets. That he had learned to cook, and tinker. He master chemistry. Everything in the hopes it could give him a solution.

But the fates had already decided his ending, much like for all of them there was only one ending possible for them. And in the end locked him in a dead AU make by his own hands when no other options was left. Just like all of them had been.

Horror has to admit it took him a long time to get Dust to admit those things to him. Msotly because Horror had been standoffish before and that he accidentally gave Killer advice to treat Dust like one of the many stray cats he interact with.

He hadn't specifically said that. horror had just told Killer that maybe Dust would like Killer more, or at all, if Killer learned to respect his boundaries. Horror had mentioned how Killer could learn each cat's limits so why not Dust?

Worst part was that it actually worked.

Horror rubs his face "I give him cat advice." his voice sounds pained. Dust had been so mad at them both.

Nightmare nods "I remember. Dust left for three weeks." he snorts "which really is very catlike..." more thoughtful "And then you two got mad at me for not telling you where he went." He blinks and shrugs as he drinks from his orange juice.

Horror ignores the cat comment as he looks at Nightmare "Why didn't you tell us?" Dust had actually been recruited to help Nightmare with the balance. Something Horror only started to do after helping Killer and Dust be less homicidal.

Nightmare blinks at him wiht those wide sockets "I didn't want to force any of you... If you wanted to leave..." he speaks softer and softer "I wasn't going to stop you if you wanted to leave... if you didn't want to stay..."

Horror frowns and picks Nightmare up. He embraces him and hums "I am sorry we left..."

Nightmare shrugs as he pushes clsoer to him "You came back..."

hah... yeah they did. Much like Dust did all that time ago. He was gone for a few weeks before returning after killing Ink bringing back one of his fucking sketchbooks as proof. Obviously killing Ink does little in the long run but it was quite the powermove. Dust had glared at them daring to say anything. Killer of course had muttered something about Dust bringing back a kill much like a cat.

Horror is still not sure how he managed to stop Dust from Killing Killer that day.

Horror puts Nightmare at the table and gets a small yogurt and fruit snack ready for him. Just so he can eat a tiny bit. See how his magic will handle food today. Nightmare starts eating it when offered and that is a good sign. Means his magic is actually sending out the signal that it needs food today.

Horror goes back to flipping pancakes. Horror tries to stay in the here and now but his injury makes his mind likely to wander. and with already having been thinking about them.

He still remembers one of the early missions, after Horror learned about fates cruel games. Dust had still acted the same but Horror had tried to be more friendly. He had been close to giving up on it as clearly it wasn't working as Dust was still standoffish. Only for Dust to pull him out of the way of an attack from Ink, getting hit instead.

Later Horror had demanded why he did that and Dust had just shrugged. He hadn't had an answer for him. It confused Horror to no end. Horror was immortal because of that fact that his magic had been used in the core and bonded to that. Meaning as long as the core in his universe was fine he would return to life.

The gang had known this and Horror knew that Dust knew this. And yet. Dust had heard all of that and looked at the large monster Horror had become saw soemthing worth protecting. Something that needed protection.

Horror thinks he fell a little bit in love that day.

Much like how one day Horror just realised he couldn't stand the idea of not being near Killer or never seeing him again. That even if Killer could be annoying that he didn't wish him any pain or harm.

How it warmed his soul that Killer, and Cross later, would hide behidn him. Seeing him as someone safe that would protect them. See him as someone trustworthy.

Cross, so eager to please and desperate for affection and affirmation. but once he relaxed so smart and funny. Loyal and always ready to help...

But now is not the time to try and see what any of them thought or felt. They are dealing wiht a lot at the moment and they need to concentrate with trying to make staying here work.

The front door opens and Cross walks in quietly. He sneaks a glance at them and smiles when Horror catching him looking. Cross waves to Nightmare "Hey guys. All good?"

Horror nods "Nightmare helped." he flips another pancake as Nightmare drinks his juice with a smug little smile.

Cross grins "Good to hear. I will quickly get cleaned up and help. Dust and Killer?"

Nightmare hums "Still asleep." and he sips his juice again.

Cross nods "Good to know. be back in a bit" and he goes towards the bathroom. The pipes groan softly as Cross no doubt turns on the shower.

Horror finishes the last pancake and gets to wrok on getting the drinks and coffee ready.

Another day for them to figure out how this will work. Horror is just happy they are all here, everything else can wait as long as they stick together.

*-------------------------*

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[g0ose-bumps]

Soap Gets a Visitor

Soap and Ghost but cat edition™.

There was a cat staring at him from the halls of their base. It was sitting in front of his door and it's fur was a striped tawny brown. The size of it threw him off; it was shockingly massive for what looked to be a tabby. There was a hard glint in it's eyes that made it look remarkably human in its distaste.

Soap stares back. He rubs a hand over his eyes tiredly. It was a strange day when he was hallucinating indifferent cats right outside his doorway. Soap should really wake up now.

He wipes his face more vigorously and closes his eyes. Counts to ten and opens them. The cat was still there. This time it looked even more unamused at him. Feline features showing a minute displeasure in the way it grimaced.

Soap boggles for a second. If he wasn't dreaming then that meant there actually was a cat on base. He couldn't believe the balls on whoever brought the cat in. They were really pushing their luck. Aside from working dogs, animals weren't allowed and even then, Soap tried his hardest to avoid them. Dogs and Soap had never gotten along. The scars from his last encounter were just another reminder of that.

The bushy ringed tail of the cat swishes on the ground, thumping loudly at the flooring. The sound shocks him from his stupor and draws his focus to the black tip that was waving jerkily by his feet. The cat seemed to be annoyed at Soap's lack of attention on it and was handily showing him its ire.

Soap makes a quick decision. It wasn't every day he got to pet a cat, and despite Soap's poor relationship with dogs, he liked cats. They were more prone to giving him space and walking away when they had enough. And he couldn't help but have a fondness for them; they reminded him of a certain lieutenant of his afterall.

Soap furtively checks for anyone around. It would be best if there were no witnesses. He didn't want to get sent to latrine duty if he was caught. Soap just knew Price would do it if he had any inkling that he was going to let the cat stay with him till he found its owner.

It was only going to be a couple hours anyway and it was better for everyone if he had the cat in his room. He couldn't let the animal roam around the base unattended.

The sergeant crouches down and offers a hand. The cat only wrinkles it's nose and backs away from the hand.

"Yer a tough customer." He chuckles softly. "Ye remind me of someone I ken." He tells the disinterested animal.

It pauses, yellow green eyes tracking him curiously.

Soap grins and withdraws his hand. "Curious now?" A tail swishes impatiently. "Aye, ye are aren't ya." He replies back teasingly.

The cat gets up and stretches, it's mouth opening to show off its teeth in a large meandering yawn. Soap felt he could relate. He'd been wakened by scratching at the door. According to his beside clock, it was 0400 hours. Too early for anyone not on a night rotation to be up.

Ghost would be up though—albeit on duty. Soap was a little tempted to go and find the man. See how he'd react to the animal. Soap wasn't sure if they'd get along. Ghost liked dogs, but that didnt mean the reticent man would like cats too. Maybe the cat and Ghost would get into a cat fight and hiss at each other; it was a possibility.

Soap widens his door open and scoots back a few steps, crouching down low to encourage the cat to come in with low pss, pss, noises. He holds out a hand just in case the cat decided to rub against it for pets.

The cat only wrinkles it's whiskers and saunters through the door, pass his outstretched fingers. It had the sort of feline grace that was inherent to all cats (and a ghost) that made it seem like they owned the place and was only deigning to come in cause they felt like it and not because you wanted it to.

Soap was already halfway in love.

Despite the dimness of his room, it jumps neatly on Soap's bed, nudging around his sheets for the best spot to lay in. The cat seemed eerily focused on the bed. Soap couldn't help but find it a bit strange. Not that he had any experience in this exact circumstance, but usually animals tended to investigate new areas first. Though it did made sense if the cat was someone's pet and thus, was already used to the general layout. The sergeants room was just a basic copy of every other private room available.

The cat wiggled around some, deciding to lie in the exact centre of the bed. Soap snorts. "You're a demanding one, aren't ya." He sighs, a little helplessly. Warmth spread across his chest like weeds sprouting in pavement. God help him but he always did like the hard to please type.

Soap closes the door quietly. He carefully creeps up to his bed, wanting to see if he could pet the cat. With each step closer, the cat straightens up from its sprawl. It's ears flicks back for a moment and then eases. "I'm nae gonna hurt ye." Soap murmurs softly.

For all that the cat invited itself in, it seemed to be wrestling with itself in whether to flee or not. Closer up, he can see the fine scars that ran the bridge of its nose. It's eyes appeared to be set in a permanent glare. Soap was struck by the resemblance.

"Ye really do remind me of Ghost." Soap tells it wonderingly.

The cat freezes and it's ears flatten out showing the white spot on the backs. Soap manages to get one step away from it and lays a hand out near its mouth. He knew he was gambling. Leaving his hand vulnerable to bites was something only a fool would do. But some instinct of his told him he just had to be patient and outwait the cat.

It's white jaw twitches as if it wanted to bite. Soap waits. The cat bores a hole into him. There's a weighty pause, both of them seemed intent to wait and see what the other did first.

Soap thinks. It seemed to like hearing about Ghost, maybe talking about him would help.

"Ghost was like this too with me." He says.

The cat's orange tinged face scrunches up. "He was!" Soap argues. "He didn't like me talking to him at all." A wry grin forms on his mouth at the memories.

"But I wore him down." Soap inches closer against the bed, one finger touch away from the cat's scarred face. It's long whiskers twitches and it's eyes were dead set on him.

"Yer a bonnie one." He whispers to it.

The cat freezes. Soap takes a leap and strokes the side of its striped cheek. It was so soft Soap wanted to cry. At the touch, the rigidness of the cat melts away. It's tensed muscles unclench, visibly relaxing.

Soap does it again. A deep purr erupts from its chest, eyes closing blissfully as Soap rubs the base of its spotted ears.

"Yer just a big softie underneath the scars." He whispers, more to himself than anything. The words pour out like the fingers that ran a line down the curve of the cat's spine. It's back arched to follow his hand. He could feel the thick muscle and scars that hid beneath the striped fur. It's purrs going deeper still, vibrations shaking the white tuff on its chest.

The cat's striking eyes shut, caught on the bliss of Soap's careful hands.

Soap shifts despite himself, a pained exhale coming from his throat as he moved. His kneeling position by the bed was starting to hurt. The cats eyes open at the sound of Soap's pained grunt.

It got up shakily and walked to the far corner of his bed, away from Soap. "No, don't go." Soap pleads. He wanted to keep on stroking it's soft fur, but if the cat didn't want him to then he'd better give it some more space.

He gets up onto his feet and makes to move away. A plaintive meow stops him in his tracks. He turns to see pleading yellow eyes stare back at him. The cat seemed to want him to get on the bed and pet it some more.

"So demanding. Just like The Ghost." He grins. "Don't tell him I said this, but he's just a needy big guy like yerself. Ye both soak up attention like yer starving for it." Soap muses.

The cat's tail lashes at the remark. "Ach, don't be so mad." He shushes, coming closer to the bed and sitting on the side. "It's not's a bad thing—" Soap swings a foot carefully on to the bed. "Being needy that is." He finishes softly to the cat.

"I wish Ghost needed me more." Soap confides.

The cat's paw raises as if it wanted to push him away. It's all tensed up again, a hunch rising on its back. "It's okay." Soap croons. A hum grows from his throat. He shuffles closer, sheets ruffling up under his movements.

"We all need some love in our life." He lets a couple fingers hover near the cat's face. The cat stands dead still, it doesn't even appear to breath.

Soap rubs the top of its head near some of the scarring. Motor boat purrs stutter and start, sounding more like an engine than feline. It was shockingly loud. Even the cat looked surprised at the intensity.

He was beginning to think the animal wasn't anyone's pet, or at least not any longer. The cat didn't seem used to physical affection. It was scarily alike Ghost in all ways. Soap could tell that just like his lieutenant, those fine scars on its face and body went far deeper than the physical. It seemed simultaneously too confident and skittish with human contact.

Soap continues his mission to have the animal melt into mush. He carefully massages behind its ears and strokes underneath its chin. It seemed to like it. It's purrs taking up the whole room. The cat relaxes even more, going from solid to liquid. It resembled a lazy puddle more than an alert predator. Soap's heart swells until it feels fit to burst. The cat liked him!

Soap gets comfortable on the bed, fully enraptured by the animal sprawled out on it. The cat yawns again, it's eyes drooping in its apparent tiredness. Soap felt tired too. It was just so nice—having company right next to him, so warm and alive that wanted his affection.

His hand falters. He yawns. His eyes shut close. Everything felt like a hazy dream. If only Ghost was here, it'd be perfect. Soap could already imagine it: a nice cottage out in the countryside, a cat slinking around, going as it pleased and a gravely voice and an even more gravely body to cuddle up to. "Wish Ghost was here." He rambles to it tiredly. "I'd think you'd fall in love with him too." Tiredness draws heavy eyes shut.

"Just like I did."

Darkness chases his eyes. The sound of purrs drowns the rest.

Soap sleeps.

—

Soap wakes up. He was lying on his bed over the covers. Strange. Wait. The cat. Where was the cat?

He looks around, trying to catalogue any sign of that bushy black tail but to no avail. He gets up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and checks his closet and underneath his bed. Still nothing. He checks to make sure the door was closed. Yup. Closed. His clock beeps at him shrilly. Shite. He had to go.

Soap readies up to go, making sure he got his boots on right and his sheets tucked properly. The cat would have to wait. If it was even there at all. It might have been all some dream of his. Though if it really wasn't a dream, the cat wouldn't have been able to leave his room without being able to suddenly open a door knob with no opposible thumb.

Regardless, he was going to be late if he dawdled longer. He rushes out of his door, not wanting a lecture from Price. Soap only got three metres from the doorframe before slamming right into something solid, large and black. Ghost.

"Sorry Lt." He chokes looking up, embarrassment colouring his cheeks pink. Ghost looks at him oddly. Something about his heavy gaze made the man appear vaguely embarrassed to Soap. Perhaps it was the visible squint in the lines around his eyes. Ghost had decided to forgo eyeblack this morning.

Ghost grunts at him.

"Ye happen to see a cat anywhere, sir?" Soap rubs a hand back his neck nervously. "Big tabby with a black tip?"

Ghost stiffens. "No." He barks agrivatedly and leaves. Soap is left watching the rapidly retreating back of his lieutenant.

Soap blinks. He could've sworn he saw the man blushing at what he said in the brief look he managed before the man beat a hasty retreat. There was a heavy red on the visible patch of skin. It was a noticeable departure from the sallow colour of the man's skin.

Did Ghost somehow know the cat?

One thing for sure, Ghost knew more than he was saying.

Soap was going to find out what.

+

[chaotic-orphan]

Partners in Crime (Merry Whump of May: day 21)

Charismatic : “sit”// vial // balcony

Tw: forced swallowing of suspicious substance, handcuffs, small spaces

Completely unedited :) so read at your peril

~*~*~*~*~*~

Casper let out a groan as the car finally came to a stop. With his hands cuffed behind his back and his legs bunched up in the tight space, there was no way to stop himself from hitting his head off a corner at the sudden stop. It only aggravated his headache from the beating Monroe’s goons had given him before they stuffed him in here.

Casper heard two car doors open and close followed by footsteps that got closer and closer to the boot. Casper knew this was inevitable, if you stuff someone in a boot and park the car, usually you’re going to have to remove them from the boot, but still… his heart pounded all the same.

It was Gavin who opened the boot and stared down at Casper with a wicked grin. “Enjoy the ride, Casper?”

“I’d enjoy it more if I didn’t have to see your face, ugly,” Casper replied, already moving to sit up in the boot which turned out to be more of an effort than he initially thought.

As soon as he sat up Gavin had a fist wrapped into Hero’s shirt and yanked him forward. Casper’s eyes went wide but he could do nothing to stop himself as his body went with gravity and he fell face first onto the concrete. At the last-minute Casper jutted his shoulder forward, taking the brunt of the impact there instead his face but it still hurt.

“You’re such a dick,” Casper spat, rolling onto his back and wanting to kick his legs at Gavin. He would have too, except for his legs being dead. His blood fizzed as feeling slowly returned to him. Gavin let out a stupid laugh that grated on Casper’s ears, hurting more than the fall.

God… Casper really wanted Monroe to just kill the fucker already. Give Casper some peace, hire better goons.

“Oi,” the other goon called, voice drawl and monotone. “What’s the holdup?”

“He’s being difficult,” Gavin said in reply. Casper heard a sigh and then the other guy walked around the car to see Casper lying on the ground. Casper instantly scurried backwards as best he could on his cuffed hands and pins-and-needle-riddled legs that was just becoming awake.

Monroe’s other favourite goon, who Casper only knew as Dante, was far scarier than Gavin thought he was. He was lethal, efficient and humourless. His pale eyed stare pinned Casper in place after Casper’s back hit the wall. Casper watched as Dante reached behind his back and retrieved his gleaming pistol, drawing back the hammer and loading a round into the chamber with the simple flick of his thumb.

Dante inclined his head, voice monotone as he said: “would you like to walk up to Monroe’s suite, Casper? Or crawl?”

Casper set his mouth into a resolute, thin line, trying to maintain any of his dignity that vanished when Dante was involved. “I think I’ll walk,” Casper replied, already pushing himself up by leveraging his back against the wall.

Dante’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t holster his pistol; he just walked over to Casper and grabbed the crook of his elbow before pushing him towards the lift that led to the hotel above. Casper knew exactly where he was. Dante had brought him here multiple times before. The handcuffs and the boot treatment was new, but Casper didn’t have to think twice about why he was cuffed. Why Dante was being especially impatient…

Gavin followed him into the lift and pressed the button for the penthouse suite. This was when the nerves usually kicked in, but today Casper was more scared of Dante than Monroe. Monroe, he could sweet talk. Dante was like talking to a wall. An imposing, emotionless brick of a wall. The only advantage Casper had for assurances that Dante wouldn’t kill him was Monroe’s… fondness for Casper.

On good days, Casper liked to think on his relationship like more of a partnership. Where Casper and Monroe were equals. That’s the way it had always been, but lately… well, things have been tense to say the least.

He cast his eyes to the ascending numbers of the lift, watching every floor rise until he reached floor 63: Monroe’s home, the penthouse suite.

Dante punched in the six-digit passcode to enter the penthouse, while Gavin nudged Casper with his shoulder. “You fucked up big this time Casper, I don’t think Monroe’s gonna be so forgiving.”

Casper scoffed, glancing back over his shoulder to Gavin. “Even if he kills me, it would be a blessing. At least I wouldn’t have to stand so close to you.”

“You just think you’re so smart, don’t ya?” Gavin cursed, shoving Casper forward. Casper didn’t brace for a push and so he stumbled forward, just at the perfect timing that the lift doors opened. Casper lost his balance but recovered slightly and only dropped to one knee.

“I don’t think I’m smart, Gavin,” Casper replied easily, getting one foot under him. He shot a smirk over his shoulder to the bull in a China shop and said: “I just know I’m smarter than you.”

Casper got his second foot under him and went to stand but froze when he felt Gavin’s meaty hand on the back of his neck.

“Why you little—”

Dante’s cool voice cut through Gavin’s no doubt colourful insults. “You’ve wasted enough time already.”

Gavin’s hand disappeared from Casper’s neck, instead Dante’s hand replaced it and yanked Casper up. Before Casper could protest, Dante shoved him forward, further into Monroe’s apartment, the threat clear. Keep walking or else.

“Okay, alright! I’m going,” Casper grumbled, rolling his shoulders, thankful his legs had stopped prickling and was now fully functioning. Casper walked into the kitchen and froze.

Sitting at the kitchen island with a steaming cup of coffee beside him sat Monroe. He smiled when he saw Casper and stood to greet him. A hand pressed between Casper’s shoulder blades shoved him further into the kitchen, barely catching himself.

“Casper,” Monroe greeted, his voice soft and melodic like a warm tenor, pleasing on the ear. “I’m so happy to see you.”

Casper bit back his unhelpful reply and just beamed a smile at Monroe instead. He had to play this safe, otherwise he’d probably end up dead. Casper matched Monroe’s steps forward, shrugging as casually as he could with his hands cuffed behind his back.

“Yeah, well. Not every day you get thrown into the boot of a car by two goons, is it?”

Monroe’s grin was sharper than a Stanley blade as he extended a hand to Casper’s forehead where Gavin had slammed his head against the ground to stop him from fleeing.

“You’re bleeding,” Monroe said, tenderly touching the broken skin around the wound. Casper barely caught the greedy look in Monroe’s eyes before he pressed his thumb to Casper’s cut. Casper hissed and recoiled, but Monroe caught the back of Casper’s head with his other hand and kept him still. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes!” Casper hissed, trying to shoulder Monroe away from him.

The corner of Monroe’s lips twitched up. “Good,” he said, digging his thumb in harder before pulling away from Casper altogether. The pain was more of an annoying ache really, a loss of sensation but he wanted to relieve it somehow. He wanted to reach up and press a tender hand to it, but with his hands cuffed he couldn’t really do much of anything.

He watched as Monroe strolled over to retrieve his coffee off the island, then shot a pleasant smile back and Casper.

“Shall we enjoy the sunset on the balcony, Casper?” He asked, but he was walking before Casper could answer. Casper glanced back to Dante and Gavin before setting his jaw and reluctantly following Monroe out to the balcony.

“I’d enjoy the sunset if you took these cuffs off,” Casper told Monroe, voice sweet like honey. Monroe smiled at Casper as he sat in his favourite cushioned armchair and set his coffee on the glass table in front of him.

Monroe gestured for Casper to take his usual seat in front of Monroe’s, “please, sit.”

“You know what, Monroe? I’d love a coffee, if you’re feeling generous,” Casper said with a sigh and a cheeky smile as he settled into his own cushioned chair.

Monroe laughed. “Oh, Casper… I am feeling a lot of things towards you at the moment,” his brown eyes cutting into Casper’s. “Not one of him is generous.”

Casper reclined back into the chair, kissing his teeth and switched his gaze to the bustling city instead. The sunset was beautiful, casting the buildings with soft orange light as the sun sank low into the blue and pink sky. Casper wished he could enjoy it like he usually did. Instead, he was here, sitting across from Monroe and trying his best to ignore the claw of fear that had gripped his chest.

“I thought we had an understanding, Casper,” Monroe began with his soothing tone and sugar-coated words. “I thought we was partners.”

“Yeah,” Casper said with a scoff, turning to look at Monroe. “I thought so too. Then, next thing I know Dante’s at my door, beating the shit out of me to drag me here to you! My phone didn’t break by the way, it still works. Normal people call when he need something.”

Monroe’s eyes flashed with a drop of cruelty, a knowing smirk spreading across his face.

“Are you really trying to play coy with me, Casper?” Monroe asked with a laugh. “We both know you’re smarter than that.”

Casper sat forward in his chair and tried for a charming smile. “How about you take these cuffs off and we can have a lovely little chat, hmm? That’s what you want right? To smooth everything over.”

Monroe hummed, taking a sip of his coffee and glancing out across the city’s skyline. Casper huffed out a scoff and rolled his eyes, glancing back to the door to track where the other two arseholes was.

“Of course, Casper. We can have a civil conversation.”

Casper cocked an eyebrow, waiting for the and, if or, but. Monroe in reply, took something out of his pocket and placed it on the table between him. Casper made a point of looking at it — it was like a scientist’s test tube but smaller with a cork in it, or a vial of some toxic substance. The liquid inside was a deep purple where the sun hit it, but otherwise it looked black. When Casper glanced back at Monroe he was smiling, looking very comfortable and pleased with himself.

The warning bells was already blaring in his mind, so Casper just remained silent. Even if he wanted to speak, he wouldn’t know what to say.

“I’ll take off your cuffs, as long as you drink this.”

“I can’t drink it unless you take the cuffs off,” Casper shot back, agitated.

“Nonsense, “Monroe waved away, grabbing his coffee from the table and nodding at someone behind Casper. “That’s what I pay Dante for.”

A hand crossed in front of Casper, and he recoiled back, his heart racing. He jumped to his feet as Dante appeared in front of him, but a pair of hands on his shoulders dragged him back down to the chair and held him there.

There was a pop as the vial was uncorked.

“No, no, no! Wait!” Casper cried, struggling under Gavin’s hold as Dante stepped too between Casper’s legs that ruled out the use of his legs. “Monroe! What is that?!”

“Open up, Casper,” Dante said in the same monotone droll. “Don’t make me force you.”

Casper’s chest rose and fell too fast as he continued to struggle, turning his head away as Dante reached forward. A hand in Casper’s hair had him crying out as Dante wrenched his head backwards.

“Aagh! Get off of me!” Casper cried, twisting and turning, trying to stop Dante’s hand from getting closer or even better, spilling the fucking contents of the vial.

“Always so difficult,” Dante sighed, yanking Casper’s head back until he was staring at the sky. Casper grit his teeth to keep from crying out or opening his mouth. Dante leaned over Casper, pressing his forearm across Hero’s forehead, keeping him down and with his freehand he grabbed Casper’s nose and plugged it between his fingers.

Casper’s eyes widened, his struggles renewing as he realised what Dante was doing. Those pale, uncaring eyes stared down at Casper’s, waiting for him to open his mouth.

“You could have done it the easy way, you idiot,” Dante said, watching as Casper went purple from holding his breath. The struggling didn’t help with his lack of oxygen and Casper was afraid he’d burst or pass out and so —

Casper gasped and then the cool liquid was running down his throat. Casper coughed and sputtered, trying to spit it out. Before he could, Dante slammed his palm under Casper’s chin and dug his fingers into Casper’s cheek. Those pale eyes stared down soulless and bored.

“Swallow it, you child.”

Casper tried to twist his head free, but Dante didn’t let him. Dante slammed Casper’s head back again, so he was staring at the sky.

“Oi,” Dante drawled. “Do I have to cut off your oxygen again or are ya gonna behave?”

Casper pulled every ounce of hatred from his body into the glare he shot at Dante, his nostrils flaring but he knew there was only one way that this ended.

Casper swallowed the now warm liquid. “Is it gone?”

“Mmph,” Casper tried to affirm.

Dante tilted his head. “Swallow again.”

Casper obeyed. Satisfied, Dante let go of Casper’s cheeks and stepped away. Casper let his head fall forward, rolling his neck to try and get rid of the creak. Dante stepped to the side of Casper’s chair and snapped his fingers onto his palm in a ‘come here’ gesture that Casper understood to mean give Dante his hands.

Casper leaned forward, coughing slightly. Dante grabbed Casper’s cuffed hands none too gently and Casper heard the satisfying click that signalled his freedom.

Casper coughed again as he brought his hands in front of him, glaring at Monroe as he rubbed his wrists.

“What—” Casper said, cutting himself off with a cough. “What was that, Monroe?”

Monroe’s smile was cruel as he leaned forward in his seat, clasping his hands between his knees. Casper’s throat felt so dry, and swallowing wasn’t doing anything to relieve the scratchiness.

“You remember Colt,” Monroe said.

Casper raised his brows. “Yeah? Vaguely?”

“He works in science, in a lab more specifically. Remember he made those power dampeners that the police love.”

“Yeah, they’re not the only ones,” Casper spat pointedly. His wrists weren’t the only things those stupid cuffs affected. It left Casper’s abilities disoriented afterward, something Monroe no doubt wanted Casper to experience. That off kilter, claustrophobic—

Something lurched in Casper’s chest, as if someone had just hit him from inside with a hammer. Casper’s hand went to his chest, fingers digging into his ribcage.

“Something wrong?” Monroe asked kindly.

“What—?” Casper breathed before another pang hit him and Casper jerked forward, taking in two long, panicked lungfuls of air. Casper got to his feet, needing to get away because something was wrong. Something was so so… wrong.

His vision turned as if Casper was on a waltzers or something and he barely managed to brace himself with his hands before he hit the balcony floor, heaving.

“AGH! Mo— Monr—” Casper cried, screaming as his chest burned, spreading a current of pure pain from his heart around his body. Casper’s strength left him as his body convulsed and felt like it was burning. As if an army of fire ants was crawling under his skin, biting and cutting and burning.

Casper curled into a ball, grabbing his knees and digging his nails into his waist as his breath seemed to falter and stop and he was so hot, his mind blind with pain as stars burst behind his eyes and something was wrong!

Casper shivered, his clothes scratching and uncomfortable as he writhed in pain, loud whimpers and screams torn from his throat as the poison made its way through his veins. That’s all that little vial could be… poison. Monroe… Monroe was going to kill him…

As if reading Casper’s thoughts Monroe stood, pressing his heel into Casper’s shoulder and kicking him onto his back. Casper’s glare was probably teary and ineffective, but he glared up all the same as his energy ebbed and flowed through his body, shivering and almost paralysed.

“Yeah, nerdy Colt. Little genius really,” Monroe said with a casual shrug, crouching so he could get closer to Casper. Casper tried to lift his arm and push him away, but he could barely lift it off the ground. “Well, I asked Colt if he could somehow manufacture an ingestible version of the power dampeners.”

Casper’s eye’s widened in horror, mumbling out incoherent protests as his body spasmed beneath him.

“Oh hush, don’t worry. I don’t want your abilities gone, I just wanted to punish you for disobeying me, Casper,” Monroe said softly. His words anything but soothing. He reached out and brushed some of Casper’s sweat-soaked hair from his forehead and smiled down at him almost tenderly. “The effects are temporary, Colt assured me, maybe two or three days—”

“You’re a bastard,” Casper spat, teeth chattering.

Monroe grinned.

“The effects are temporary, Casper, but I hope the message won’t be,” he said as he moved his hand to Casper’s throat and squeezed. Casper’s body only responded weakly, his arm brushing Monroe’s trying to dislodge it, but Monroe leaned so his breath fanned Casper’s cheek. “And if the message gets lost along the way, well, I had back-ups made in case you need a little reminder every now and then.”

Dark spots crowded the edges of Casper’s vision and for a moment he thought Monroe was going to choke him out.

Dante said something to the side and Monroe raised his brows, intrigued. Then as lazily as he cut off Casper’s oxygen he stood to his full height and grabbed his empty mug off the table. Casper gasped in air, turning on his side as he guzzled in sweet, fresh air into his lungs.

His smile was the same, usual charismatic one he wore when he was trying to imitate a human being. “Wonderful. Well Casper, get up. Duty calls. You can’t just lie around on my balcony all day. I’ll put on the kettle.”

Casper rolled onto his back and stared at the colour-streaked sky, his body spent and his mind racing. All he wanted to do right now was sleep, or die, or kill Monroe and Dante— or all three.

As soon as he got his breath back, he’d do one of him. Maybe. Probably, for now he just stared at the sky.

“Casper!” Monroe called from inside. “If you don’t move in the next ten seconds, I’ll get Dante to administer a second dose.”

Casper held up his middle finger through the window, not caring if Monroe even saw it. Reluctantly Casper sat up and got to his feet slowly, using the furniture to help him up.

He had made up his mind: he was going to kill Monroe…

after coffee.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here