#wednesday dividers

[dreamland-gallery]

Wednesday dividers

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[catholicfacade]

WIP PREVIEW

pairing: joost klein x f! reader, joost klein x f! OC

word count: 3,572

synopsis: Joost Klein accidentally meets the love of his life through a tik tok. Valentine. She’s his complete opposite; quiet, reserved, and a bit cold, whereas Joost is bright, bubbly, and extremely outgoing, almost obnoxiously so. But opposites attract and the art of balance is delicate. Getting to know each other without interference proves difficult at first, but the minute Joost and Valentine realize their pining is mutual it’s full speed ahead for the two of them. Like puzzle pieces, they become inseparable, fitted together like it’s always meant to be. Everyone around them is convinced no two people in the world love each other as much as Joost and Valentine do. But Joost’s growing fame sends him down an unexpected spiral, one Valentine is desperate to pull him out of. It changes everything. The two who were once attached at the hip learn to no longer even speak each others names, desperately still in love, but the damage is unbearable. If only the puzzle pieces can come together again to realize just how perfect they are for each other.

authors note: tagging this as both x reader and x OC because this is written in 3rd person POV, i find writing 2nd person difficult for me because i just tend to write “reader” as self-insert, and i know i am a VERY specific type of person 😅 soooooo lowkey self-ship??? but i think it’s best to just make reader an OC and you can simply swap out her name, pronouns, and traits for your own when it’s necessary. and so i would say Valentine [who i named after my own last name, this is just the name i use for ALL my protagonists in my writing actually😅], she’s implied to be autistic/neurodivergent and generally just socially awkward, quiet, introverted. again, self-insert. she is also goth. i always write protagonists with really heavy, angsty, traumatic backstories so i think that’s also why i turn readers into OC’s because i don’t want to force a traumatic past upon you as reader 😭 there is also “April”, who is a second OC i made for this series, she is Valentines best friend who owns her own alternative clothing company and is very important to the story along the way:))

content: RPF, awkwardness, slow burn, pining, yearning, hint of angst, mention alcohol consumption, masturbation, kissing, fantasizing

!!18+ & RPF, DO NOT REPOST OR INTERACT IF RPF MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE!!

how it started:

At 12pm on the dot, two people walk in, Valentine greets them smiling, “Hallo! Hoe gaat het?” [Hello! How are you?] Her Dutch is limited but she tries her best.

“Hallo, is April hier?” [Hello, is April here?] The girl with dark curly hair asks as she approaches, she’s followed by what Valentine assumes to be her boyfriend.

“Nee, maar kan ik jullie helpen?” [No, but can I help you?] Val offers them a gentle smile, unsure if her Dutch is even grammatically correct or not.

“Oh-“ The girls eyebrows shoot up, “You’re Valentine, right?” She suddenly switches to English, Valentine is simultaneously embarrassed but also thankful for the switch.

A blush rises on her cheeks as she nods, “Yeah that’s me, sorry about my Dutch.” She waves her hand apologetically.

“I’m Alanis, and this is Apson.” Alanis smiles and holds her hand out and so does Apson. Val shakes their hands, “Nice to meet you guys, you wanted to film in the store right?”

“Ja, just a little skit about being emo. I wanna seem like a guy who is a total poser and then run out of the store crying when I get called out.” Apson said, maybe blushing a little from having to explain his stupid bit.

It made Valentine chuckle though, “Do whatever you gotta do, man! April told me you have permission from her already so you’re good to do your thing.”

“Thanks,” Apson and Alanis said in unison, which made them giggle at each other.

“Can I borrow some clothes?” Apson said looking around.

“Sure,” Val nodded, “Let me open the changing room for you.” She grabbed the keys and unlocked the changing room at the back of the store as Appie and Alanis brainstormed what the character should be wearing. They ended up picking out a stereotypical e-boy outfit, a black and white striped long-sleeve shirt, a Metallica t-shirt to go on top, some fingerless skeleton gloves, baggy Tripp pants, and a studded belt.

Appie went into the changing room a few minutes later to get ready, leaving Valentine and Alanis outside together.

“How long have you worked here? It feels weird we haven’t seen you around yet, we’re in here all the time it feels like.” Alanis asked, tilting her head slightly to examine Valentine.

“Not long, only a month now. I think we must’ve just narrowly avoided each other this whole time.” Valentine chuckles and Alanis nods in agreement.

“How long have you known April then?” Valentine asks Alanis.

“I got one piece of jewelry here like a year ago,” Alanis shows Val her gemstone necklace, “And now I get all my jewelry from here, look!” Alanis smiles, showing a few silver rings on her fingers and a beaded bracelet.

“Oh, is that moonstone?” Valentine asks excitedly.

“Yeah! Isn’t it so pretty?” Alanis moves the beads around so they flash their colors brightly in Valentines eyes.

“I love it, and it goes perfectly with your outfit!” She said and Alanis thanks her, “My favorite gemstone is—“

“Done!” Apson calls out suddenly, making both of the girls turn, he looks a bit ridiculous, but that’s the point. The pants are definitely a size too big and the belt definitely isn’t helping because they are practically hanging off of his body.

“Let me put some eyeshadow on you.” Alanis mumbles as she approaches Appie, she looks through her bag until she finds the small compact, taking it out to apply the black shadow loosely around Apson’s eyes. He ends up just looking more tired than emo, but again, it must be what works for the skit.

Val just watches from afar with an amused smile on her face, she likes them, Appie and Alanis, they seem like good people. There’s some footsteps behind her and she turns to see a few customers coming in, “Goedendag!” [Good day!] She greets them, they say it back before looking around at some of the shelves at the front of the store. Valentine returns to her earlier work, stitching by hand some stars onto the corner of a skirt.

“Okay, like this—“ Appie talks Alanis through the scene first, he’s speaking Dutch again so Val can’t pick up most of what he’s saying, he’s just gesturing for how and where Alanis should hold the camera when they go to film. He’s quietly rehearsing the lines with her when he perks up a bit, “Wait…Valentine?”

Val looks over at Appie, “Do you mind saying a line for the tik tok? Just the one about me being a poser?”

She grows a bit nervous, “Oh uhhh…I’m probably not very good at acting… I don’t really post on tik tok like that…” She rubs the back of her neck and looks between Apson and Alanis awkwardly.

“Don’t worry, you just gotta go like ‘ew, fucking poser’ and that’s it!” Apson gives the line a little scoff and a little attitude to it. He grins at her, clearly enthused with his new idea.

“Okay…” Val agrees weakly, coming around the counter to stand by Alanis’ side.

“Okay so like this,” Apson says, rerunning through his lines once more while Alanis practices getting the best angles for the tik tok, “And then camera turns, and you say…?”

Alanis turns the camera on Valentine, who scoffs while looking at Appie, “Such a fucking poser…” She says with all the vitriol she can muster.

“Perfect!” Appie shoots her two thumbs up as Alanis turns the camera back on him, “Then, I’ll begin to cry like this, wahhhh!” Appie cries exaggeratedly, then turns and takes a few steps towards the door. “Then I’ll run outside and that’s it, got it?”

“Got it.” Val and Alanis both say.

The three of them get into position, Appie with his back to the door, standing amongst all the clothes, Alanis starting the recording on her phone, and Valentine just off to side, waiting to deliver her line.

“Aaaaaand action!” Apson claps loudly. Alanis zooms in quickly to Appies face, he’s slouching, neck bent at an awkward angle to seem more depressed, the face he’s making makes him look dead inside, it’s exaggerated by the deep black makeup Alanis brushed around his eyes.

“Ik ben zooooo emo….” [I am soooo emo] Apson delivered the line as flatly as he could, adding a bit of a vocal fry to the ‘zoooo’. Alanis snaps the camera back to show his full outfit before zooming in on his face again for the next line, “Ik ben zoooooo depressief…” [I am sooo depressed]

Valentine held back her laughter, perhaps it wasn’t exactly her type of humor, but it was fun to watch!

Apson gave a big eyeroll to the camera, then looked into it, “Niemand zal mij ooit begrijpen…” [No one will ever understand me]

He suddenly grunts loudly, his expression growing more angry, “Ik zit de hele dag op mijn kamer naar muziek te luisteren, niemand begrijpt het!” [I sit in my room and listen to music all day, no one understands!] He yells.

The camera whips around to Valentine, she puts a disgusted look on her face and scoffs like she did the first time, “Such a fucking poser.” She shakes her head lightly.

Alanis whips the camera back around to Apson, he looks like he’s about to scream, “NEEEE!” He bursts into faux tears, and suddenly he turns to run out of the store. Alanis follows, and they pass the customers Valentine had completely forgotten were even in here! They seem completely and utterly confused and Val feels a little bad for them.

As Appie and Alanis cross the threshold onto the street, still filming, Appie still making wailing noises, he trips on his baggy pants and falls. Valentine gasps, Alanis keeps filming, and someone nearly hits Apson on the ground with their bike.

“Ik ben geen poser!” [I am not a poser!] Apson yells his final line, sobbing crying, clutching his elbow, and Alanis stops recording. She helps him up, they’re laughing as they walk back inside but it seems Appie actually got hurt.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Valentine comes up to them, slightly stunned but also laughing.

“I’m okay,” Appie nods, then turns to the people at the front of the store who are just frozen in shock, “I’m okay!” He waves at them, and they slowly return to what they were looking at in abject horror.

“You’re bleeding a little,” Val frowns when she sees Apsons elbow, “Here, I’ve got a bandaid in my purse.” She moves over to the counter again, opening her bag and pulling out a bandaid for him.

Alanis takes it from her and opens it, “Thanks Valentine.” Appie says warmly.

“You’re welcome.” She smiles.

“I think I should pay for the shirt,” He says while wincing as Alanis applies the bandage to his broken skin, “Pretty sure I got blood on it.”

“Probably a good idea,” Valentine agrees, “April said you could film in the store, not bleed all over her products.”

“Want anything while we’re here, babe?” Apson asks Alanis, who brightens up immediately at the idea of getting herself a little something. “I’ll go get changed while you pick something out.” He says and walks into the changing room to get back into his clothes.

“Can I see your rings, please?” Alanis asks Valentine brightly.

“Of course!” She unlocks the jewelry case behind the counter and pulls out the rack of rings for Alanis to inspect. She picks up one and tries it on, examining her hand afterwards.

“So when will that video get posted?” Val asks.

“I think Appie will post it on Friday.” She studies the ring on her finger before putting it back and picking up another one. “We should be mutuals!”

“I’d like that,” Valentine grins at Alanis and pulls out her phone, opening tik tok and handing her phone to her. Alanis lets her follow both her and Apsons accounts, Val asks to be mutuals on instagram too.

“There!” Alanis says while handing Val’s phone back to her, “You can message me whenever you want to.”

how it’s going:

The sun shines bright outside of Joosts window, he stirs back and forth for a few minutes before finally opening his eyes. The first thing he sees is his Stitch plushie sitting on the other side of the bed, staring at him. He reaches out and grabs it, bringing it to his chest and squeezes it in a bear hug.

“Goedenmorgen.” Joost grumbles while stretching, his head hurts slightly from a long night of drinking but mostly from the way the sun won’t leave his face.

He rolls over onto his back, picking up Stitch again, he stares at the plush toy for a while with his tired eyes, wondering if he’s weird for talking to it or cuddling with it every night. Wondering if that even matters at all. Wondering if it secretly means something about how lonely he is.

But Joost would do anything not to think about that subject, so he tosses Stitch aside and grabs his phone from the nightstand. It’s already passed 2pm and he’s missed at least 15 text messages between his friends.

Stuntje: “You coming out tonight again?” Stuntje: “Bro? U good?”

Tantu: “Beat coming along nicely👍” *1 image attatched*

Apson: “Made a banger post on tik tok! 😂” Apson: “Please leave me a like boys, I bled for this one! 💀” -tap to see more notifications-

Joost sighs through his nose, opening the tik tok app, his therapist has been trying to get him to stay off tik tok first thing in morning but he can’t help it, especially not when his best friend just posted. It’s also not technically morning anymore.

He watches the funny dog video that pops up on his FYP first, liking it and scrolling to the next video. It’s some level 99 brain-rot meme about skibbity rizz in Ohio, he chuckles and leaves a like before scrolling. The next video is an ad and he instantly scrolls. Apsons video finally pops up:

@ apsonarmy posted 1hr. tagged: @ v4lent1ne @ aprilsclosetNL

emos be like 😂💔💀🤘 #emo #poser 10k likes

202 comments

1k shares

There’s big text on the top of the screen that says “EMOS BE LIKE 🧛”, and there’s Apson, fully looking like an e-boy, pretending to be moody and mysterious.

“Ik ben zooooo emo….”

Joost smiles, immediately liking the post. He watches his friend act on screen as the video plays, chuckling as his friends line delivery keeps getting more and more over-the-top with each sentence. And then the camera pans and he sees this girl on screen, she’s wearing tight, leather, flared pants, a grommet belt with a silver star belt buckle, a cute little cropped graphic tee that shows off her midriff, and some silver chains hanging around her neck.

“Such a fucking poser.” She sneers, her voice ablaze with attitude.

Joosts eyebrows shoot up, she has the most beautifully sharp eyes he’s ever seen, and this head full of thick, fiery hair, glossy lips, and gorgeous makeup. She was undeniable, whoever she was. The type of beauty that would end up in every magazines “Top 100 Most Beautiful Women Of All Time” list—No, Top 50, maybe even Top 10. And yet as soon as she was on screen, she was off. The camera points back at Apson’s dramatic reaction. Joost watches as the chaos unfolds when Apson begins running, trips, falls, nearly gets hit by a bike, screams “no” while lying on the streets of Amsterdam, and clutches his bleeding arm.

The video loops…and Joost watches it again. And again. And again. He’s actually not sure how many times he lets it play before the low battery notification snaps him out of his daze. He quickly taps it away, using his thumb to scroll back to the part where the girl calls Appie a poser. He pauses the video when her face is fully in frame and clears the tik tok display. She was breathtaking—literally, Joost was unintentionally holding his breath. He sat there enamored for a while, then brought the display back, checking the “tagged” portion of the caption to see her there, @ v4lent1ne.

Joost clicks on her profile so fast, just to be severely let down when he sees she only has one video available on her profile. He reads her bio;

“Valentine, 27, Designer, Amsterdam.”

221 32 101 Following Followers Likes

Followed by a link to the April’s Closet website. She hadn’t bothered to link her instagram to her tik tok. He clicks on the video, it’s just a cute little tik tok of her lip syncing to Korn in a nice outfit and beautiful trad-goth makeup, the date says it’s almost a year old. She doesn’t seem to have as much of that spark within her as she did in Appies video, maybe it’s because she was just acting for that, but she looked thinner in this old tik tok, maybe more tired somehow. He scrolled away once it looped.

“Valentine…” Joost sighed out loud, letting the name roll off his tongue while admiring her in her tiny profile picture. He went back to Appie’s video and opened up the comments, typing out “I agree, bros not emo, bros a POSER 🤣😂👍🔥” He immediately liked his own comment upon sending it.

Joost realized it was suddenly stiflingly hot under his blanket and that damn sun was still shining brightly on his face. He tossed the blanket off of him, letting the cool air of his room hit his skin, he looked down and saw he was half hard. “Shit…” Joost groaned.

He hopped out of bed and headed into the bathroom, he caught his own gaze in the mirror, messy bedhead, stubble growing in, dirty blonde roots showing through his bleached hair. A mess. But nothing a good shave and shower couldn’t fix.

Joost turned the faucet on in the shower, letting the water run for a minute while stepping out of yesterday’s boxers. His cock sprung free, hanging somewhere between half limp and nearly hard. His pink tip was blushing at him, begging him to give it a little attention. It’s been a week since he last jerked off anyway, might as well take care of it, Joost thought as stepped under the warm water.

He let the water run down his body, rinsing away yesterday’s sweat from the bar, yesterday’s arguments with festival bookings, yesterday’s dull thoughts that kept him numb and unhappy. All that mattered right now was his pretty dick perking up under the warmth of the water and what he was going to do with it.

Joost ran his fingers through his pubic hair, scratching lighting at the forest of hair there, slowly moving down to squeeze it at the base. He had no intentions of teasing himself today, but he couldn’t think of anything worth fantasizing about just yet. Perhaps a familiar pair of lips came to mind but he quickly stubbed out that thought. Too fresh. It was one video. He shouldn’t.

But as Joost slowly pumped his fist around his length, his mind kept wandering back to those same features, he couldn’t help but picture her—Valentine, apparently—gazing at him, watching him jerk off. Her eyes squinted at him, watching him jerk his cock faster now at the thought of her, she’d sneer at him the same way she did in Appie’s video.

“What a loser…jerking off to some random girl you just found on the internet? Pathetic.” He pictured her saying.

Joost wondered what her skin would feel like, what her skin would smell like—he stopped touching himself and pumped some body wash into his hand and lathered it on his cock, careful not to get any inside. The smell was obviously familiar to him, masculine and clean and filled the steam around him with its scent. It would do for now. He could picture Valentine smelling like this as he closed his eyes. He pictured himself standing in front of her, nude, while she was in that same outfit from Appie’s tik tok. He approached her, towering over her, though he couldn’t possibly know how tall she is, he looked down at her and her eyes flicked to his lips.

It’s barely even a lewd fantasy but Joost is stroking himself so fucking fast to it, the soap forming slippery suds under his hand with every long pump he takes. He wants to lean in and kiss her neck, right against her pulse, fuck—he can feel his own pulse in his cock right now. Valentine’s would match his. He cups her jaw and sticks his thumb in her mouth, she gladly suckles on it, it makes him moan out loud, “Fuuuck-“

Valentine sinks, slowly, so slowly, to her knees and looks into Joosts eyes. Joost is massaging the head of his dick now, he’s so close to cumming, just needs a little more. In his mind she takes him into her soft hand, enjoying the weight and warmth of him in her palm. And finally, she leans in to capture his tip between her gorgeous lips. Those fucking lips. With that, Joost is moaning and stroking himself so fast he is coming undone. His white ropes hit the bottom of the shower and get slowly washed away into the drain. He fucks into his fist, mind erratically imagining Valentine in a number of situations as Joost cums. Rapid flashing of doggy style, cowgirl, her tits covered in his cum, she’s just as breathless and red in the face as he is!

He uses his other hand to prop himself up against the wall, panting as the last beads of cum roll down his reddened tip. Breathlessly, Joost returns to reality, he drops his cock from his hand and lets the water beat against body. He’s less tense that’s for sure, but there’s a weird sense of guilt about it, Joost promises himself to never fantasize about her again. And he doesn’t. At least not while jerking off.

The first few days after Appie posted the tik tok, Joost would sometimes go back and watch it, but after a week, he became too busy. He forced Valentine out of his head. The weird, unfinished picture of her he created would still materialize from time to time, but she altogether slipped from his mind as the weeks and even months had gone by.

how its going to go:

“Fuck,” Joost pants looking down at V, her lips are swollen and wet with their combined spit as Joost had all but swallowed her whole, the flavor of her grape lip gloss coating his tongue. Joost’s cock twitches in his boxers, “You know, the first time I saw you in Appie’s video you gave me a boner?”

Val lets out a strained laugh from her breathlessness, “Really?” Her fingers reach up to trace his mustache, the pads of her fingers barely grazing the skin of his lips. It feels like the touch of an angel.

“Ja.” Joost nods, still staring, kissing at her fingertips.

A low, erotic hum emanates from her chest, “I guess it was meant to be then.”

Something flashes in Joosts eyes when she says that, something so deep, it was like watching his brain chemistry change in real time. “You were made for me…” He whispers before dipping his head into the crook of V’s neck and teething a hard bite into her soft skin.

[more coming soon ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜] -ego⋆♱✮

[voxofthevoid]

*banging pots and pans together* Goyuu gremlins, come get y'all fucking juice.

I say this as if I'm not inundating you in goyuu every week, but Gojou has been conspicuously absent from my current WIP for...10 chapters and over 70k words. A major character and one half of the endgame ship, and he shows up halfway through the story—JJK has got me making more and more novel (in terms of my writing) narrative choices with each fic.

Gotta say, it feels great to get back into writing Gojou. Last time I tackled him was at the end of September, for the fem!Gojou no-powers oneshot. The necrofic from October beginning has a lot of Gojou, sure, but he's a...well, a corpse. Sinking back into goyuu banter and interactions felt like coming home.

Now, here's Demon/Hunter Horror Wednesday #9, featuring Gojou Sluttoru Satoru in the flesh.

There’s a man on the platform.

It’s the height that startles Yuuji first. He’s freakishly tall. The tallest person Yuuji’s seen—unless he counts Sukuna, which he won’t. Besides, this guy’s all legs, and it’s weirdly fascinating how they move, smooth and graceful under shiny pants reflecting the platform lights. They eat up the platform with long, languid strides, getting closer and closer and—

Yuuji blinks, dragging his eyes from the man’s legs to a face that’s a lot closer than he expects, even though he has to crane his neck to make eye contact—kind of. The man’s wearing sunglasses, those thick black ones that show nothing of what’s underneath, so Yuuji just ends up staring at his own distorted reflection.

His eyes are wide, his mouth a little open. Yuuji closes it, his teeth clicking together.

The height isn’t the only startling thing about the man. His hair is a shock of white, messy strands covering his forehead and even falling over the sunglasses. And Yuuji’s got no leg to stand on when it comes to people with eye-catching coloring, but there’s still something about this man that makes it hard to look away.

“Hi?” he offers warily.

“Hello,” comes the answer, immediate and cheerful. “You a local?”

“Uh, yeah? I guess.”

A tilt of the head. Those snowy strands shift with mesmerizing motions. “That’s not very reassuring.”

“Why…am I reassuring you?”

The man claps, once. “Good point! You’re not a serial killer, are you?”

Yuuji’s so confused. “No?”

“Hmm, you don’t sound very sure about that either.” The man leans closer, which involves a lot of bending. Yuuji blinks at his reflection in the glasses, which blinks right back. “Nah, you’re too cute to be a serial killer.”

“Thanks, I think. Who are you?”

“Gojou Satoru!” The man declares, straightening up and sticking out an arm. “And who are you, my young, uncertain friend?”

Yuuji takes the proffered hand. It’s big, almost swallowing his whole hand when it closes around it. There’s warmth too, seeping boldly into his flesh.

“Itadori Yuuji,” he introduces himself. “I’m very confused.”

“I did get that impression.”

“No, I mean, you’re—” Yuuji shakes his head. “Never mind. Why are you asking weird questions?”

“Hey now,” the man says, his lips pressing into a pout. They’re very shiny. And pink. “Those were very sensible questions. There’s no point asking for directions from a non-local, is there? And it’d be very unwise of me to put myself in the maw of a murderer.”

“Well,” Yuuji says, slightly less confused, “I’m not a murderer. And I do live here. Moved here a few months back. Pretty sure I can give you directions. To where?”

“A recent transplant. I see,” Gojou murmurs, his head still tilted slightly down. Despite the opaque glasses, Yuuji has the distinct sense of being looked at. “Would you happen to know the way to the Fushiguro household, Itadori Yuuji-kun?”

“Fushiguro?” Yuuji repeats. “You know him? Or are you here for Tōji-san?”

“Both,” Gojou says, his smile widening. The glossy gleam of his lips doesn’t hide how sharp the expression is, and for the first time, Yuuji really takes in the rest of his face—the chiseled jaw, the straight nose, the prominent cheekbones. A sharp face, but pretty too. Like Fushiguro’s, except that while Fushiguro’s soft around the edges, this man looks like he’ll cut if touched. “—to me?”

Yuuji blinks back to himself, trying and failing to make sense of what Gojou just said. “Huh?”

That smile grows even bigger, flashing a hint of very white teeth. “I asked if you’re listening to me?”

“Oh. No,” Yuuji admits. “Sorry?”

Gojou hums, tilting his head like a curious cat. “I don’t think you are. But I’ll forgive it if you’re a good boy and take me to the Fushiguros.”

Yuuji swallows, his throat very dry. “I could, but…”

“But?”

“How do I know you’re not a serial killer, Gojou-san?”

Gojou snorts. It’s an ugly sound, rough and nasal. Something inside Yuuji unclenches, like that’s the proof he needed that this guy is human and not some abnormally pretty dream he conjured up. It’d be a kinder dream than usual, but Yuuji can’t trust his imagination anymore.

“I’m too handsome for that, don’t you think?” Gojou asks, his grin grown lopsided.

“Yeah, but—” Yuuji makes a sweeping gesture with his free arm, covering Gojou as well as the rest of the platform. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“So there is a brain under all that pink fluff,” Gojou says, his tone weirdly approving.

“I don’t think you get to talk about anyone’s hair,” Yuuji points out, eyeing Gojou’s snow-white strands again.

But Gojou just tosses his hair like he’s in a shampoo commercial. “It’s all natural.”

“So is mine,” Yuuji says drily. “Not the point.”

“Oh? What is your point then?”

“Serial killing. I think.” Yuuji shakes his head. “Whatever. Yeah, I’ll take you to the Fushiguros’ place. Do anything weird and I’ll punch you.”

“Careful,” Gojou purrs. “I might be into that.”

Yuuji just looks at him for a moment, before taking in the rest of the platform with half a mind to foist this guy off on someone else. There’s no one, obviously. It’s not like this place is bustling even during what was the rush hour back at Sendai. Nanami and Yuuji were alone the entire time they waited, and he’s pretty sure no one but Gojou got off from the train.

Plus, he probably shouldn’t inflict this guy on anyone else. Yuuji doesn’t think he’s a bad person or anything, but he’s kinda weird. And Yuuji’s pretty immune to stranger danger.

Except when he walks into cursed churches.

“Come on then,” Yuuji says. “It’s getting late, and Tōji-san usually turns in early.”

Gojou’s lips and cheeks do something very weird. “Fushiguro Tōji has a bedtime.”

“Uh, not exactly—”

Yuuji’s cut off by demented laughter—full-on cackling, filling up the open air of the empty platform. All he can do is watch, nonplussed, until Gojou calms down, and even that’s startlingly abrupt, the noise stopping so suddenly that the resulting silence seems to boom.

“Sorry, sorry,” Gojou says, not sounding all that sincere. “That was just too funny. Guess the single dad life suits him.”

Yuuji thinks of what Fushiguro sounds like every time he has to talk about his dad. “I…wouldn’t say that. Anyway, you coming?”

“Sure,” Gojou says easily. “You going to let me go first, or are we holding hands the whole way?”

“What’re you—”

Yuuji realizes the answer before he even finishes the question, blinking down at his own hand—still clasped firmly around Gojou’s bigger one. He lets go quickly, snatching it back. For a moment, he doesn’t know what to do with it. Wiping it on his pants would be rude. And it’s not like Gojou’s palm was sweaty or anything. It was just warm, and Yuuji’s whole hand sparks like it’s stolen that heat for itself. He settles for folding his arms across his chest. 

Gojou looks entirely too amused. “Pity.”

“Don’t tease me,” Yuuji grumbles, hoping the heat on his face doesn’t actually show on the skin; he knows his odds though, and they’re not good. He’s about to march off, leaving Gojou to choose whether to follow, when something occurs to him. “Wait, are you…”

“Yes?” Gojou prods after a moment, that curling grin still in place.

Yuuji squints up at him, specifically the sunglasses. He doesn’t think Gojou’s blind. People wear sunglasses all the time, though he’s rarely seen ones so dark. And Gojou navigated the platform pretty easily earlier, no cane or anything. Still, the thought won’t leave his head, and Yuuji’s mind refuses to accept the vague sense of being watched as enough proof, so he asks, “Are you blind?”

“How blunt,” is Gojou’s response. “I like that in people.”

“That’s not—”

—an answer, Yuuji doesn’t say because Gojou proceeds to give him an answer, raising one long-fingered hand to pluck his sunglasses off.

A maelstrom of blue slams into Yuuji.

He’s seen blue eyes more than a few times. People he knew, people he passed in the street. Bright ones, dark ones. Then there’s Fushiguro, whose eyes act like some deep-sea trench, shifting from dark green to depthless blue based on the lighting and his mood.

But he’s never seen eyes like these.

It’s not just one shade of blue, but every blue, all at once. Thin threads of shuddering color, spreading out from pupils that swallow all light. It’s breathtakingly bright, like the colors are reaching out of the eyes to claw at the air. Or maybe they’re just swirling inside, chasing each other inside the confines of those irises.

A part of Yuuji knows that he’s imagining it, that Gojou’s eyes aren’t actually nuclear ghosts. But that logic doesn’t quite penetrate the blue haze in his head.

Gojou blinks, cutting off that stream of color, and Yuuji sucks in a breath like a drowning man.

[raventrigonsdaughter]

Hmmmm thinking about Agathario wenclair crossover fic happening after wednesday season 1 and canon divergence with the ending of aaa... i have many thoughs

[allmyey3s]

Wip Wednesday

Well it's been a while since I posted any writing here, huh? I've been dragging on this side chapter thing I'm working on since January. It's already over 4k words and they haven't even really started yet 😭

But after way too long our favorite monster boy is back! Well, not really. But you'll just have to figure it out on your own hehe :)

Anyways this chapter is gonna be extremely fucked up so this is your warning!

Have a little sneak peak as a treat (because you won't hear from me again until October)

"You know pretty girls shouldn't go in the woods all by themselves," the monster purred tauntingly. They suddenly yanked him lower so his now once again hard dick is level with their mouth. Swiss grunts and shakes his head in order to clear his swimming vision. "I'm not a girl," he hisses, baring his teeth when his eyes finally focus on the beast again.

The monster is staring up at him, that content smirk still on their face. "Oh really? And what makes you think that?" they asked in a sarcastic, almost mocking tone, raising an eyebrow.

Swiss scoffs and twists violently in his bindings a few times. "I don't know, maybe the lack of tits and feminine behavior? What makes you think I am one?" he spits and snaps his teeth at them with the last sentence.

The beast laughs loudly with a full chest. Their eyes glint with mischief, but something darker could be seen beneath it. They run their tongue over their fangs bared in a smirk before speaking. "Well, that can be fixed, can't it?"

Before Swiss can question what they mean or come up with something snarky to bite back with, a slightly unpleasant tingling sensation shoots up his thighs and further into his body. His eyes widen with confusion as he looks down only to find a green glow emanating from the creature's hands, where they're wrapped around his thighs. He doesn't really have time to focus on the glow though, because next thing he knows his raging boner disappears.

He doesn't go soft, no, it just vanishes. His entire dick disappears into thin air, well, a trail of quickly dissipating green sparkles. His balls follow suit, and just for a moment his crotch is nothing but a flap of taut skin.

That moment doesn't last very long though. Just before he can really take a good look at the smooth bump that remained, the skin splits into two. Swiss gasps loudly, twitching away yet unable to tear his eyes away from the sight. He doesn't feel any pain, it's all just weirdly numb and tingly, but it's not like he can really pay attention to the sensation while he grows a full vagina before his very own eyes.

He snaps his head back up to look at the beast with a mix of bewilderment, disgust, and borderline panic. "What the actual fuck?" he chokes out, and to his surprise, it comes out high-pitched. His voice sounds higher than it did just a minute ago, not squeaky, but high and girly.

This new discovery only serves to fuel his shock and confusion, and the beast seems to have taken note of the additional reaction. They once again laugh with a full chest, the cackles dripping with amusement and satisfaction, as if they're receiving just what they've been craving for months.

Much to Swiss' dismay however, his transformation is not yet finished. When he finally forces himself to look down again he finds another pair of surprises on his chest.

He's grown tits.

They're not small either, his estimate would be a solid C cup and growing.

His eyes dart from his crotch to his chest repeatedly, brows furrowing and face distorting with disgust. Only then does he register the discomfort in his hips. It's a faint, dull ache, settled deep in his bones. He's felt it before, it's similar to.... growing pains?

His eyes narrow as he focuses his attention to one of his hip bones, and not so unexpectedly, he figures it's moved. His hips have visibly grown, widened and stretched to a typical, perhaps slightly more shapely woman's build.

"What the fuck..." he whispers again, voice breaking a little on the curse, as he slowly raises his head back up to hesitantly meet the beast's gaze. He recoils at the sound of his own voice, all feminine and wrong.

The monster laughs again in return, then leans down and forward slightly, invading the ghoul's personal space. "Well, I think we've taken care of 'lack of tits'," they purr smugly, tone dripping with satisfaction. "What else did you say? Feminine behavior?"

Once again, before Swiss can snark something back, he's being moved, the vines around him shifting and creaking slightly. He's suddenly hanging with his belly exposed to the ground. The position is more uncomfortable than moments ago, the vines digging into his sore hips and his equally tingling stomach.

A clawed hand sneaks into his hair, grips it tightly and forcibly tilts his head down in order to look into the water of the nearby lake - since when is there a lake in this part of the forest?

"I can teach you how to be a good girl, alright."

He stares off into the depths, eyes squinting as he tries to make out whatever the creature wants him to see in the pool of turquoise. "I don't-" he mumbles, then cuts himself off with a gasp upon finally seeing it.

Staring back up at him from the pristine lake surface is his own reflection. Except it looks virtually nothing like him.

With horror he realizes he's wearing the body of a fully developed female. Shoulders narrower than before, two massive tits on his chest, slimmer waist, wide birthing hips and large thighs. His skin is all smooth and soft, only emphasizing the rough texture of the vines holding him captive.

His wide eyes finally travel up to his face and his bewildered expression. He quickly takes notice of his newly moulded face. His mustache and stubble have disappeared, giving way to soft, supple skin. His lips are slightly more puffy and pink-toned than usual, his nose smaller, his face overall more soft and feminine.

Everything is in extremes, there is no subtleness. He looks like a hyper-feminine curvy girl. Once again, as if it's the only thing he can muster up to say, "What the fuck."

Once again, for the hundredth time, the beast gives a booming laugh in reaction. "Like what you see I presume?" they question while making a show of snaking their hands up the ghoul's body. They look so large splayed over his stomach, up on his ribcage, until both wrap around each of his newly grown tits. They grope and knead, causing Swiss to squirm in an attempt to get away from the strange new sensation. They suddenly pinch and pull hard on the nipples, making him flinch and hiss. "Ow- hey!"

The sound of liquid splashing onto the unmoving surface of the lake makes his tightly shut eyes open. At first, he sees nothing, until a faint opaque fleck in the water catches his eye. The beast repeats the action, and with his very own eyes, he can see pearly white droplets drip from his nipples, splashing down into the water.

"Woah- hey! What the-"

"What the fuck," the creature mocks him and tweaks one of his nipples again. "If that's all your pretty little mouth can say I'll put it to a better use."

"Do not dare make me deepthroat a vine again!" Swiss bites, making sure to let all of his frustration bleed into his tone.

The creature hesitates for just a second, and he swears a speck of confusion washes through its expression. But it's gone just as quickly, and just to be more petty, they do exactly that.

"Thank you for the idea, little girl," they purr as they flick their wrist, causing a vine snaking up the ghoul's sternum to plummet straight into his mouth, right past his lips, teeth and tongue.

Swiss feels tears well up in his eyes.

[eridanidreams]

WIP Wednesday

Tagging: @bearlytolerant, @silurisanguine, @aro-pancake, @fangbangerghoul, @atonalginger, @aislingdmdt, @fshenkoescape, @ninjaofnaps, @lisa-and-shadow, @a-cosmic-elf, @thatsgoodsquishy0, @hockeydemon42, @fomagranfalloon, @violenceandviolets, @therealgchu, @staticpallour and @artemis-crimson

Today, I'm putting the final touches on the next chapter of Odysseus Gambit and hammering the next chapter of stars through my fingers like grains of sand into shape, so what I have is a future draft chapter of Odysseus Gambit!

Adam swung the scope back, his finger trembling on the trigger. One more shot and he could end this farce. But Sloane was picking herself up, though her shoulder was bloody and her right arm hung limp.

«I always knew you were a coward,» she spat, the words coming through clear on the infolink. Lermontov darted in, swiping with his knife, and she slapped it away left-handed. «Not so easy when I’m not hanging like a butchered calf, is it?» The Russian stumbled back a few paces, the sneering arrogance finally replaced with fear, and Adam moved his finger back to the trigger guard.

Lermontov took a few more cautious steps backward; by now, he was only a few steps from the sarcophagus wall. Sloane matched him, step for step, a wounded lioness on the prowl. He snarled something—Adam, lip-reading, could only make out the word suka—and flung himself at her in an all-out attack. She swayed back—the knife scored a line of red along her ribs—and drove her fist into his chest in a blow that was all power, no grace. Lermontov had barely started to fold in upon himself when her left foot slammed into his gut hard enough to smash him through the crumbling concrete and metal behind him.

Adam’s brain itched in the way that suggested his cybereyes were picking up something that his visual cortex couldn’t understand. Lermontov struggled to his feet, a pale shadow backlit by a dim Cherenkov-blue radiance that somehow illuminated nothing. He took one faltering step toward daylight… Adam froze, scope riveted on the hole, as black hands coalesced out of the darkness and wrapped around Lermontov’s arms. Lermontov’s mouth opened in a soundless scream. Sloane’s heel caught on the cracked concrete and she fell, and all she did was scrabble backward, desperately away from that. There was something oddly fluid about those hands, blacker-than-black, like a black hole had taken form in flesh, swallowing everything around it. They were pulling Lermontov into the sarcophagus, inexorably, step by step… and then the white blur of his face melted into nothingness and nothing remained but the blue-edged darkness.

Below him, Sloane wavered to her feet. Her harsh breathing, punctuated by static, echoed in his infolink. She glanced down at her wrist, then shook her head and started looking around her. “You need to get out of there,” he rasped. She shook her head again.

“Can’t,” her voice crackled with static. “—patch that up.” As if on cue, the radiation alarms went off, keening like air-raid sirens.

“Shit,” he muttered. A quick scan of the area showed Lermontov’s goons running the hell away—well, he supposed he would too, if his boss had just gotten tossed into a nuclear reactor. He tossed the rifle aside and took the quick way down; he tried not to flinch at the way the Icarus rippled and flared and threw little aurorae around him.

Sloane was wrenching open one of the heavy lockers that dotted the area; she pulled out something that looked like a cross between a flare gun and a grenade launcher. “Get *crackle*ther one,” she said roughly. Adam threw himself into a dead run; ahead of him, Sloane had gotten closer than he liked to the sarcophagus. She braced the gun awkwardly on her left hip—he wondered why her Sentinel hadn’t healed the shoulder wound—and fired. It impacted at the top of the breach, releasing a viscous golden substance that oozed down and hardened quickly. Adam vaguely remembered reading something about that—as the sarcophagus decayed, and with the ongoing problems funding the New Safe Confinement structure, they’d had to find a stop-gap to quickly seal any breaches. He grabbed the second launcher on the run; oddly heavy for its size, its shells contained a boron-doped resin that cured quickly when exposed to hard radiation.

They worked quickly but meticulously, building the patch from the outside in, alert for—“Did you see—?” he muttered, covering a bit that looked just a little too dark.

“Yeah.” Her voice shook. “I don’t know, and I don’t want to know.” She fired a final shot, then tossed her launcher aside. “Out.”

Adam fired off his last shot. “Same. Let’s get the hell out of here.” He barely managed two steps before Sloane pressed an arm to her stomach and doubled over, vomiting helplessly. “Fuck!” He reached for her arm, but she waved him away.

“Radiation. Nothing to be done for it,” she grated. “Sentinel’s holding.” Her lips pulled back in a bloody death’s-head grin. “Not a lot of bone marrow left to poison, so that’s a plus.” She staggered, went down to a knee. “Jensen.” She waved him away a second time. “No time. Go. Exfil plan… B.” She coughed, spitting more bright blood. “I’ll… meet you at the RV point.”

Adam didn’t need his CASIE to know she was lying through her bloodied teeth.

[krembruleed]

[audiovisualrecall]

Just waiting for the oven to preheat and then the muffins can go up and then I'll do dishes I guess

[beri-allen]

wip rec: wyler edition - part 1

so, i was going through my bookmark on ao3, and i realized that some of the fics are wips that haven't been updated for a long time. that's why i'm making this list of wip fics that i love and haven't been updated for a long time: wyler edition!

disclaimer: while i do hope that they're not abandoned, i understand if the authors don't feel like continuing their fics or if they don't have time to do so. i didn't make this list to force anyone to write. i just want to share a few stories that i love and hope that other readers will appreciate them as much as i do <3

without further ado:

my unconquerable soul by melpomenemuse summary: an insight into wednesday and tyler’s relationship through the season finale and post season 1. my commentary: probably one of the earliest wyler fics that i read? back when there were only 2-3 pages of fics under the tag lol.

euphoric in some stranger delight by dandybear summary: 30-year-old wednesday and tyler preparing their upcoming nuptial + flashbacks of their relationship throughout the years. my commentary: i LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE this future fic so much; i can never shut up about it. bi4bi wyler and wednesday/bianca enthusiasts should read this.

a girl and her monster of woe by cryinlikecassandra summary: post-s1 wednesday learning how to become hyde's master. tags include: domme wednesday addams. my commentary: enid/bianca enthusiasts should read this.

grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt series (kudzu, draw the cat eye sharp enough to kill a man, the way i wear my noose (like a necklace)) by pansexual_intellectual summary: the series started with pre-s1 tyler, then continued with post-s1 wednesday in the addams manor and tyler's trial. my commentary: another one of my ultimate faves. all 3 parts are finished, but there's no follow-up yet. kudzu (and cat eye) can be very triggering to some. please be advised and read the tags wisely.

haunted heart by mistresswinter summary: another future fic. started with wyler's wedding, followed by a flashback to their tumultuous relationship. my commentary: so clearly, i have a weakness for future and/or domestic wyler fics lol. i don't usually like fics with oc but the author's writing is very engaging, i don't mind the oc in this fic at all.

PART 1 | PART 2

[chairwritexv]

ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇʀ | ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛ ɢᴜɪᴅʟɪɴᴇs | ᴡʜᴏ ɪ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ғᴏʀ | ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

☏﹏﹏﹏[ ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛ sᴛᴀᴛᴜs

❥ ᴏɴᴇsʜᴏᴛs :: 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚍 ❥ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴs :: 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚍 ❥ ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇs/ʙʟᴜʀʙs :: 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚍 ❥ ᴍᴀᴛᴄʜᴜᴘs :: 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚍

[patchworkgargoyle]

wip wednesday ♠

Tagged by @cuoredimuschio, thanks friend!!

This will be... almost entirely OC wips (with two that feature at least one of the Corroded Coffin boys from Stranger Things), sorry folks. But also not sorry. The OC brainrot is strong.

rules: send me the name of one of the wips below, and i'll write and post three new sentences for you! (I encourage anyone to send multiple if they want!)

the wips:

samdom: mic check (pom!verse)

freakdom: the boy whose bass is big and bold (pom!verse)

samdom: dinner n a show (pom!verse)

Songwriting (pom!verse)

rory x river: river rock (fey!au)

non-obligatory tags: @steves-strapcollection @tboybuck (solely just in case you want to see some snippets) and @nullshocked (idk if you do tag games though so feel free to ignore!!) If anyone else wants to join, please do!! You can say I tagged you!

the snippet: mic check

(Note: Tig and Sam belong to Ger!!)

A large hand grabbed him by the shoulder. Tig tucked Dom into his side so he could bend to shout into Dom's ear. “Come on, you flirt,” he teased over the noise.

“Jealous?” Dom shot back, smirking up at Tig and letting him pull them away. Tig laughed fondly. He wasn't jealous. Dom really fucking wished he was.

The roar of the crowd faded, replaced by the buzz of the crew getting ready to pack up their gear. He and Tig handed off their instruments to the roadies waiting for them, and after that Dom was more than content to let Tig guide him back to the green room to decompress, though his energy was still at its peak. He wanted to bounce around, be a nuisance, burn it off in a flash fire.

Dom spotted a familiar figure about to pass them. Sam had that smear of black under his chin still, now smudged a bit down his throat. Dom wanted to bite it and learn what Sam sounded like when he felt the points of his teeth in his skin.

Tilting his own chin up, Dom gestured at it and purred, “Got a little something, darling.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, a small upward tick to his lips. “I know,” was all he said.

They held each other's gaze as they passed. Dom swore there was a palpable tension pulling him in.

“I could help you get it off.”

Sam's gaze was heavy, unhurried, as he looked Dom up and down, and it was driving Dom insane. He slowed down, forcing Tig to match his pace, but Sam didn't stop.

“I bet you could,” he said, a little extra something in his voice.

But then he turned onto the stage and out of sight. Dom wanted to scream, but just gave a heavy, frustrated huff.

“Struck out once again,” Tig said, laughing, and Dom elbowed him in the ribs for it, making him grunt.

[wednesday-the-writer]

(not) Okay

Stranger Things | Steddie | One-shot, Hurt/Comfort | 960

@ wednesday-the-lover 2023, do not repost, modify or translate my work, carrd link

summary: Steve vists Eddie in the hospital, yearning ensues<3

requests/inspo: 'i just wanted to make sure you're okay.'

warnings: Wounds, swearing, mild sexual humour

a/n: ooooh the pressure, first fic posted on this account /hj

Okay was probably the last word Eddie Munson would use to describe his situation right now. He was hooked up to a bunch of wires and machines he didn’t even know the names of, his stomach hurt like a bitch and he was handcuffed to his hospital bed, and not in a fun way. A cop had been stationed at his door since he’d arrived, and how he’d arrived? He had no idea. The last thing he remembered was throbbing pain, demobats and blacking out in Dustin’s arms. 

“Hey, would you just let me through, man?” The sound of a scuffle sounded outside, it sounded like someone had been pushed against his door. 

“Only close relatives can go in at this time, sir,” the police officer said tiredly. 

“Would you just-”

“God, just let him in?” Eddie called out to the two. 

“Sorry sir, that’s not allowed,” the officer called back. 

“You have my permission, man, give him a break.”

“It’s protocol, sir. An permission from a murderer isn’t exactly reassuring.”

“SUSPECTED!” The voice on the other side yelled. “Suspected murderer.”

“Harrington,” Eddie muttered under his breath. “Sorry about that officer,” Eddie raised his voice again. “My uncle must have forgotten to tell you, he wanted to send Steve in to check up on me while he’s at work. He misses the visiting hours sometimes.”

“Is this true, sir?” 

“Yeah, yeah that’s true,” the panic sapped out of Steve’s voice.

The officer was silent for a few moments, “I suppose I could give you a few minutes.” 

There was a click as the door unlocked and a creak when it opened, and there stood the man himself - Steve Harrington. His hair was ruffled, greasy and unkempt - which was strange considering the amount of pride he took in it - and his outfit was far from his normal style; a black sweatshirt and dark grey jeans. To put it nicely, he was a mess. 

“What’s up, man?” Eddie was the first to break the awkward silence that had settled over the hospital room. 

“I… uh, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” he shuffled awkwardly, eyeing the camera in the corner of the hospital room. 

“Never better!” The curly-haired man replied sarcastically. 

“What’s with those?” Steve motioned to the handcuffs that tied Eddie down to the bed. 

“Oh these?” Eddie shook his hands a little, making the metal clang against the bed frame. “I’m a felon, Harrington, they’re not exactly gonna let me run free. Just wish I was wearing them under better circumstances,” he lusted jokingly. 

“Keep it in your pants, Munson,” Steve dragged a plastic chair from the side of the room over to the bed. “So…” 

“So?”

The two held eye contact for a few drawn-out moments. Eddie’s mind went blank, focused on every detail of the eyes of the man in front of him. The intricate lines, the peanut brown colour with a ghostly pale green tinge to it, the way he squinted under the harsh hospital lighting. Eddie’s eyes darted around the room, looking for something else to focus on, the flutter of butterflies in his torn-up stomach filling him with anxious dread. 

“So, what have you been up to, man?” The bed-ridden boy asked blandly. 

“Oh, um, not much really,” Steve’s gaze turned to the floor. “Just helping out around town, lots of people are homeless from the, uh.. Earthquake.”

“That’s sweet man, that’s… real good of ya.” 

“Is it bad?” Steve cut to the chase, his eyes looking up at Eddie’s and then down to the man’s bandaged stomach, loosely covered by a black singlet. 

“Wish I knew,” he sighed. “Hurts like hell, but I haven’t seen it since.. Well, I haven’t seen it at all, really.” 

Steve scooted forward, his hands hovering over Eddie’s hips at the hem of his singlet, “May I?” 

“By all means.” 

Eddie’s heart jolted when he felt Steve’s fingers brush against his hips and lift up his shirt, folding it up over his chest. His fingertips traced over the bandages, finding the spot where the nurses had tucked in the end to stop it from unraveling and tugging it out, slowly undoing the bandage. He slid his hand under Eddie’s back and lifted him slightly, pulling the bandage out from underneath him and finally lifting up the bloodied dressing to reveal two large, nasty gashes. Steve’s mouth opened slightly, speechless.

“There’s some around my chest too, I can feel it,” Eddie stared up at the roof as he felt Steve lift his shirt a little more, tracing over the bandages there too but not removing them. 

Steve was silent as he took in the extent of Eddie’s wounds. Shallow scrapes on his face, paired with deeper ones that trickled down his neck, more scrapes and gashes over his arms, whatever the hell had happened to his chest and the two deep gashes on his stomach, plus whatever else there might be over the rest of his body. All the wounds still looked bloodied and wet, despite the few days since the incident.  

“Jesus christ…” Steve’s fingers ghosted over the wounds, not daring to touch them, just observing.

“Yeah,” Eddie bitterly stared up at the roof. “Not too hot now, huh?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” Steve said absent-mindedly. 

Eddie quietly examined Steve’s face to see if he was joking, but there was no lie in the man’s concentrated expression. Eddie’s heart softened a little, surprised that his childhood enemy was now turning into, well… something else. Steve’s hand landed on the bed, inches away from Eddie’s waist as the injured boy sucked in air fast, wishing Steve would move his hand even a centimeter closer. Maybe if he did, the boys would both feel a little more okay.

[voxofthevoid]

We continue to be in goyuuland with Demon/Hunter Horror Wednesday #10. Sukuna will pop back up in the next chapter, though I'm not sure what the next snippet will be.

The fic is now 90.5k, and I just finished Chapter 13—unlucky or not, it's my favorite chapter so far 😂

It's 9k total and just one big goyuu date, featuring 7 scenes that are basically Gojou flirting like a demon (hah) and Yuuji setting the new world record in obliviousness—until he can't, of course. This week's snippet is the final scene, and it's longer than these posts usually are because I didn't really feel like breaking it up.

Enjoy the extra 300 words?

“Nice house,” Gojou says, looking around the living room with unabashed interest. “You live with your parents?”

“No, my…guardian. He’s not here.”

“And he won’t mind you bringing home strange men?”

“Um.” Nanami will definitely mind, won’t he? Sure, he said Yuuji could bring friends around any time, but Gojou’s not exactly that. He’s not even a classmate. “It’s fine. Probably. I mean, you’re technically not a stranger anymore, and you know Tōji-san, so—yeah, it’ll be fine.”

Gojou chuckles. “If you say so. I promise not to steal his book collection.”

“Yeah, please don’t. Nanami will kill me.”

Gojou strides toward said book collection; he’s taller than the bookshelf. “I’m sure he’s more fond of you than these very dry books.”

“They’re not that bad!”

“Have you read any?”

“None of those, no,” Yuuji admits. “But I’m sure Nanami likes them for a reason.”

“What a cute little ward,” Gojou croons, turning around to look at Yuuji. “Nanami’s so lucky. Megumi wasn’t this nearly this sweet when he was in my custody.”

“…Fushiguro was in your custody?”

“For an entire year,” Gojou confirms. “His daddy earned himself a little time-out. I only obliged.”

“Huh.” Yuuji tries to picture Gojou taking care of Fushiguro—and fails. “Is that why Fushiguro doesn’t like you?

Gojou pouts. “Mean.”

“Uh, sorry, I just meant—”

“I know, I know.” Gojou waves a dismissive hand, before parking it on his hip. “Now, are you going to entertain me as promised, or are we going to stand here talking about other men all night?”

Yuuji gapes at him. “You’re the one who—never mind. Just wait here. I’ll go get the laptop. And change out of these clothes. There’s a bathroom over there too, if you wanna piss or something.”

“Charmer,” Gojou chortles, but he does walk over there.

Yuuji waits for him to vanish into the bathroom before heading upstairs, taking the stairs two at a time. He strips the second he’s inside the bedroom, wincing at the grass stains on Nanami’s turtleneck. He rushes into the en suite and drapes it over the hamper so he’ll remember to wash it and return it to its rightful place.

Then he makes his way to the mirror.

The bruises on his throat are almost gone. There are still smears of red and purple, but it’s not the violent mess that was circling his entire throat when he woke up Saturday morning. The distinct imprint of long, wicked fingers is also gone.

Yuuji sighs in pure relief. He really doesn’t want to raid Nanami’s closet again. It’s so invasive.

Next time Sukuna goes for his throat, Yuuji will bite his fucking fingers off. They’ll grow back anyway.

He gives his back a perfunctory check before turning away. It’s all scabbed over, the shallower parts already healed. They pull on his skin a little, but Yuuji’s got plenty of practice ignoring that.

He does his business and risks a quick shower. He even brushes his teeth.

It’s a little ridiculous, It’s not like Gojou will be fresh or anything. He also spent the whole day just like Yuuji, walking under the sun and hiking through the forest. Still, the thought of sitting on the couch downstairs and watching his new favorite movie with Gojou makes him want to be clean. At least he doesn’t want to be all sticky and gross.

He won’t mind if Gojou smells a little though. Yuuji caught a few whiffs of his scent throughout the day. It was…nice. Some cologne, definitely, but just sweat and something else under that—something both sharp and sweet.

In the mirror, his face grows red.

Yuuji slaps his cheeks. “What the hell am I doing?”

He pulls on some of his own clothes and grabs his laptop before making his way back downstairs. He finds Gojou lying on the couch, that long body taking up the entire length of it and then spilling over, both feet and parts of the calves dangling over one side. Gojou’s got an arm folded under his head and the other holding his phone up. His mouth is one flat line.

“Hey,” Yuuji greets. “I’m back.”

“So you are.” The phone vanishes in a flick of the wrist, and Yuuji spends a good few seconds trying to figure out whether Gojou stashed it between his body and the couch or just slipped it up his sleeve like some wannabe magician. Then Gojou folds that arm under his head too, staring expectantly at Yuuji. “Go on. Entertain me.”

Yuuji rolls his eyes. “Yes, my lord.”

“He learns so fast,” Gojou simpers.

Yuuji ignores him, instead busying himself connecting the laptop to the TV.

“Done!” Yuuji declares. “I’ll go get some soda. Any flavor you like?”

“I’m a simple man,” Gojou says, his head tilted in Yuuji’s direction. “Give me some coke and I’ll be happy.”

“Comin’ right up!”

Gojou’s still stretched out supinely on the couch when Yuuji comes back with the drinks.

“Don’t have any popcorn,” Yuuji tells him, setting the cans down on the coffee table. “Got some chips though, if you’re hungry.”

“Mmm, not yet.”

“Yeah, same. I’ll make dinner after the movie then.”

“What a good host,” Gojou says, and unlike the things he said earlier, this doesn’t sound mocking or even teasing. “Do you like feeding people, Yuuji-kun?”

“Eh? Why would you ask that?”

“You cooked for us all yesterday, even though you were a guest in that house. And I had to practically fight you off for cooking rights in the morning, didn’t I?”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Now here you are again,” Gojou continues as if Yuuji didn’t speak, “trying to feed me. You can see why I’m curious.”

Yuuji rocks back on his heels, considering it. “Sure, I guess. It’s not a passion or anything, but I’m good at cooking, and I like it when people enjoy my food. That’s natural, isn’t it?”

“It is and it isn’t,” Gojou says agreeably. “But I do love a man who loves to please.”

Yuuji blinks. “Cool. C’mon then, let’s start.”

“Alright.”

Yuuji waits. Gojou doesn’t move.

“Gojou-san,” he says very patiently, “make room for me.”

Gojou looks down the length of his body, as if he doesn’t know it’s taking up the whole couch and then some. He unfolds his arms from under his head, plucking off his sunglasses—and tossing it at Yuuji.

“Woah!” Yuuji catches it, setting it carefully down on the coffee table. When he straightens up, Gojou’s still on his back, his arms now folded on his stomach; his eyes are heavy-lidded, like he’s about to take a nap. “Gojou-san.”

Gojou holds out an arm.

For a moment, Yuuji just stares incredulously at it. Then he sighs and marches over, grabbing the hand to pull Gojou up.

He’s pulled down.

Yuuji goes down hard, not even remotely prepared. He crashes into Gojou’s chest face-first, one hand still tangled with Gojou’s and the other planted on something firm but yielding. The shape is very…distinct.

He raises his burning face. “What are you—”

His voice withers in his throat at the expression on Gojou’s face. The lazy curve of his mouth, the low sweep of his lashes. And, worse, the eyes—all that blue grown dark and devouring.

Yuuji’s seen a near mirror of this expression on another face, broader and darker and red-eyed.

“Caught you,” Gojou murmurs.

The hand not clutching Yuuji’s coming to rest on the small of his back—on bare skin exposed by the sudden fall. Gojou doesn’t hesitate on finding skin instead of fabric. His hand creeps further up, blazing warmth along Yuuji’s spine.

Yuuji shudders violently, his fingers digging into Gojou’s chest—into the thick swell of a pec, its shape and size branding Yuuji’s fingers despite the sweater covering it.

Gojou doesn’t seem to mind. His smile grows wider, flashing a hint of canine. His eyes are still heavy and hot.

“Gojou-san,” Yuuji rasps, the name scraping his throat. Nothing else comes out.

“Yuuji-kun,” Gojou returns, almost as low and nowhere near as rough. “What should I do, now that I’ve caught you?”

His hands answer before Yuuji can, the one on his back creeping along his side to splay over his stomach, all fingers spread wide; the muscles there convulse so violently that Yuuji feels it in his spine—and his cock, hyperaware of how close that hand is to it. Gojou’s other hand extricates itself from Yuuji’s death grip to cup his face, the thumb resting on his lower lip.

Yuuji gets a lot of clues all at once, growing dizzy with it.

“You look scared,” Gojou says softly, and the shape of his mouth around those words isn’t mean, but it’s not kind either. “Don’t worry. I’ll be very gentle.”

Gentle—

“I won’t,” Yuuji gasps, frost burning through the fire in his veins. “I can’t—”

He only means to shove himself off Gojou, but his newly freed hand finds air instead of flesh or upholstery, and down he goes, the world flipping in a riot of color and motion.

The floor meets him gently.

Yuuji’s vision resolves into blue, then white, then an expression that’s blank-eyed scrutiny.

Gojou’s hand flexes under Yuuji’s head, still holding it a few centimeters off the floor. His other hand is under Yuuji’s back, keeping his hips lifted. His knees are parked between Yuuji’s awkwardly splayed legs.

He looks a light breeze away from collapsing on Yuuji.

Yuuji reaches up to grip those broad shoulders. Some of Gojou’s weight sinks into his bones.

Gojou blinks, for the first time since Yuuji opened his eyes.

He says, “You could’ve just said no.”

“…What?”

“I wouldn’t have forced you.”

“What—” It strikes Yuuji then, what his frantic attempt to get away must have looked like. “No, that’s not—I wasn’t—”

“It’s alright,” Gojou says mildly. “Let’s get you up.”

“Wait!”

Gojou waits. Maybe Yuuji doesn’t give him much of a choice, gripping his shoulders with all the strength he dares. If it hurts, Gojou doesn’t show it, but he does lay Yuuji’s head down, still cushioning it with a splayed palm.

“You said you’ll be gentle,” Yuuji hears himself say. “I won’t. I don’t know how.”

Gojou’s eyes widen, their blue a violently swirl around depthless pupils.

Yuuji almost wants to take it back. But he can’t. Gojou doesn’t deserve that.

Yuuji’s kissed people before Sukuna. It was clumsy and harmless. Gentle enough. But those memories feel like they belong to someone else. When Yuuji pictures putting his mouth on flesh, he’s always biting.

The rest of it is worse.

“Ah,” Gojou says quietly. “I understand.”

“I—” It comes out like a laugh, but Yuuji’s not laughing, he’s really not. “I don’t think you do.”

“Maybe.” Gojou dips his head, the tips of his hair brushing Yuuji’s forehead. Soft fire, burning and branding. “But I could.”

“Gojou-san…”

“Shall I teach you, Yuuji,” Gojou breathes, every word bursting open on Yuuji’s lips, “how to be gentle?”

[h-i-raeth]

Hello I forgot how to be human for a while but I am back to microdose a Shadow of Dust please :)

(WIP Wednesday) (a week late but here you are. feel free to ask for one for this week as well)

Even after they clear off to give her some space to eat, she doesn’t talk. Doesn’t murmur assurances or debate the situation with her daemon, who stays wrapped around her neck and whose name Miriam still doesn’t know, for all that Benny got the girl to identify herself as “Eleven.”

[auburnlaughter]

Hi! Please work on The White Tayra Stellaka Aiylla for WIP Wednesday.

This is one I definitely need kicking to work on lately so thank you!

WIP Wednesday The White Tayra (original story)

"Yes, ma'am. Anything I can do here?"

"For starters, you can stop calling me ma'am," Olivia said, laughing as Knapp flushed slightly. "This is a pretty informal engine room and most everyone else calls me Olivia. You can stick with Castillo Rodriguez if first name feels too weird and I'll also answer to CR or even "engine boss lady" which, yes, that has happened."

More than once in fact, but then that was Gabe for you.

[eridanidreams]

WIP Wednesday

Tagging: @bearlytolerant, @silurisanguine, @aro-pancake, @fangbangerghoul, @atonalginger, @aislingdmdt, @fshenkoescape, @ninjaofnaps, @lisa-and-shadow, @a-cosmic-elf, @thatsgoodsquishy0, @hockeydemon42, @fomagranfalloon, @violenceandviolets, and @artemis-crimson

Since I posted an actual chapter for stars today, the WIP is from my other ongoing work, The Odysseus Gambit.

“Where the hell did all these come from?” Jensen swatted away another with a snarl. He’d been getting steadily more irritated over the past hour; she wasn’t all that thrilled about the situation, either.

“Wetlands,” she growled. “Mosquitoes. Pretty simple math.”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” he muttered, quietly enough that she decided just to ignore it.

“I’ve got insect repellent in my pack,” she said instead, ruthlessly controlling her annoyance. “Let me find us a place for a break—it’s about lunch time anyway—and I’ll crack it out.” She took a few more steps, and her foot plunged through the ground cover, right into an animal burrow. This one was bad enough to twist her entire leg—perfect joints didn’t have the flex of human tendons—and the connection points at her hip ached where unforgiving metal met all-too-imperfect flesh. Now it was her turn to mutter sotto voce imprecations. “Brilliant idea, Sloane. Let’s just go tramping through the biggest haunted forest in the fucking world, it’ll be fun. Radiation? Dangerous wildlife? No problem. We’ll just get eaten by the mutant mosquitoes. Come out at Pripyat as bionic mansquitoes, they’ll make a movie about us.” She yanked her foot out and stomped on. “A bad movie.”

Behind her, Jensen let out a sigh; when he finally spoke up, his tone was a good deal more civil. “Don’t beat yourself up over it,” he advised. “We didn’t have any better options. And—pretty sure you did some of the same reading I did, and none of this is in the official literature.” His voice turned wry. “Or the unofficial literature.”

Before Sloane could make sense of the fact that Jensen had actually said something to her that wasn’t either coldly professional or a barely-concealed insult, the trees thinned to reveal a small clearing up ahead. It was just what she’d been looking for. She was just about to say something when a loud crack echoed through the forest. She and Jensen froze in their tracks; the trees ahead exploded into movement. She relaxed fractionally—that, at least, was something explicable; just a flock of birds, startled by the sound.

The birds emerged into the sunlight, and—“What the hell?” Jensen sounded half-awed, half-disbelieving. She couldn’t fault him for either. They were about the size of a crow, but no crow sported feathers of a dark, metallic blue. Or feathered aerofoils on the legs. Or a whippy, frondlike tail and featherless head covered in a soft, jeweled hide that owed more to a lizard than a bird.

Sloane stared into the sky long after they dwindled into tiny sparkling points and disappeared, her momentary thrill of delight quickly soured by the knowledge that those birds—those creatures—were the product of no natural process she was aware of. Not even the bright spring sunlight could dispel the chill that settled over her, and it was a long several minutes before she ventured out into the meadow ahead.

She pulled out a couple sealed repellent wipes and tossed one to Jensen, then pulled her Tyvek suit down to her waist. “It’s safe enough,” she answered Jensen’s raised eyebrow. “Levels are low and there’s not a lot of dust.” She turned her back to Jensen, pulled her t-shirt off, and methodically applied the repellent to face, neck and chest. Behind her, she heard the sounds of Jensen doing the same thing. Finally, she shoved the used wipe in a pocket of her pack. “You were right,” she finally said. “My gut’s been telling me all along that something’s fucked up here.”

“Archaeopteryx,” Jensen's awed whisper was full of wonder.