#what can i say? he simply has been making me feral lately

[stardustvanfleet]

hiiii my gresties….. i hope everyone’s having a good day!!! i’m in the midst of a 14 hour workday…. worked my first job 9-5 and now i’m off to my second from 5:30-11 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 please send good vibes my way….. right now the joshdown is what’s getting me through!! ily all sm

[bakugoushotwife]

𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖑 𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉 // 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊: 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖔𝖋 𝖈𝖚𝖗𝖘𝖊𝖘

a/n: here is the finale to part one!! thanks to everyone being patient with me to get this part out, i've been going thru it lately but we got her done. i haven't proofread everything but will as it goes live, just kinda wanted to put it up. this shit gets dark so proceed at your own risk. cw: gore, blood, murder, major character death, infanticide, smut, cowgirl, pregnancy journey, serious graphic descriptions, etc. dead dove do not eat. series masterlist jjk masterlist part two

he grips your forearms, pink lips parted in disbelief. his touch is gentle, eyes gleaming with emotions yet unnamed. “again. say it once more.” he whispers, seemingly searching for the physical signs already as his eyes dance around your stomach. 

“i’m pregnant, the healer confirmed it–our heir. he or she is coming!” you laugh in astonishment, a gentle warmth blushing across your cheeks. he pulls you against his broad chest within the next second, a myriad of thoughts occurring in his brain all at once. his wife–his queen, was with child. he was no longer the man he was cursed to be. he was loved by you, and would soon become a father to a loving baby of his own creation. a monster he may be, but solitude had lost its grasp on him, and he would never feel guilt for his monstrous ways now. not with a family to protect. a family. ryomen sukuna—head of a family. 

you nuzzle your face against his neck, and his heart physically aches with the emotion he stores in it for you. surely this is something much stronger than love. no one could ever feel as strongly as he does. he sighs softly. comfortably, and sets you back on your feet with a soft chuckle that rumbles inside both of your chests. 

“what wonderful news—outstanding news, my love…you have made me the happiest man...what a gift..” he says in a voice nearly foreign to you with its overwhelming gentleness. it conflicts with the look in his eyes. it’s hard to describe—the love and adoration he’s always held is there, with something else lying beneath. a certain icy cruelty that you know he’s capable of—a primal protectiveness. yes, gone were the days of leaving you in the throne room or bed chambers by yourself to be waited on by uraume and the rest of the staff. no, no. he would be attached to you like a second soul, as if you weren’t growing one already. 

he just couldn’t bear to risk it. especially as the building plans commenced and more strangers would be around his wife than ever before. his nerves were…heightened so to speak. you didn’t want to call it paranoia, as you can understand exactly where his concerns come from. he’s never cared for anyone. not even a fucking little bit, and now he has an entire universe of feelings stored inside of one person—seperate from himself. it’s terrifying. it’s vulnerable in ways he hates to admit, for any one of his enemies that knows of your existence knows exactly how to break him apart. all the sorcerers he’s wronged, all of the families of those he has personally extinguished—they all have a way to enact revenge. they all have a clear path to ripping his heart out of his chest, and it’s a fate worse than death. even the thought of you falling into enemy hands is enough for sukuna to erect gates with enchantments and veils, laying traps of his own mind’s invention all around the palace grounds to ensure your home remains a free territory for you and his baby. 

his baby. his son or daughter growing fruitfully within you. only three people know of the baby’s existence—you, him, and uraume. and this is how the list would stay until it is simply unavoidable. he will cater to your every need himself; and no one else should enter within ten feet of you unless they want to lose their heads. he makes this much clear, announcing the decree to his castle staff. of course they’re curious as to why they can no longer serve their queen–but any questions they have die on their tongues with the feral tone of commands from their king. 

you think it’s all a bit much, but you wouldn’t say anything against his wishes. this is what helps him rest peacefully at night, what makes him believe you are totally and wholly safe. besides it’s more relaxing this way. the only hustle and bustle is about the additions to your home, no servants nagging you about the certain tinctures and powders you should be taking to support your baby through the pregnancy; nor them cooing about how dominant and healthy king sukuna’s offspring would be. no. it’s just the two of you and the moment. the first few months were rocky—much more negative than positive with your symptoms and struggles. your husband was a rock amidst the nausea-inducing waters. he may not be inspirational or motivational in his words, and he may not know simply from instinct alone how to comfort you; but do not mistake that for neglect. he is ever curious, and attentive. he can tell when you need something…he just needs you to help him along as to what for the first few weeks into this beautiful journey. 

he’s quick to provide you a trash receptacle or to rush after you as you run into the bathroom to puke. he’s the one holding a cool rag to the back of your neck and keeping your hair out of the way, the sound of your seemingly endless retching tugging at his heart. he learns that the term “morning sickness” is really a lie—you’re sick at all hours of the day. he nearly feels guilty over your suffering, keeping you hydrated on water and coconut milk for extra nutrients. you aren’t keeping much food down, but he tries to make sure you’re offered plenty of it. going into the second month of your weak exhaustion and pathetic puking, he’s growing more than concerned. 

“i’m calling the doctors, my queen is suffering far too much.” he announces, using a rag to dab the sweat off your forehead as the toilet receives yet another round of your stomach’s contents. another hand fashions your hair into some sort of ponytail, and the other two stabilize your hips. you shake your head, leaning back to sit on your haunches as you wipe your mouth. 

“it’s perfectly normal. i’ll enter the second trimester soon, hopefully it will stop then.” you say, chipper. he finds it confusing how you can clearly feel so bad but pretend otherwise. your child isn’t even showing in you yet, you only look as if you’ve had a large dinner. and while you’re ridiculously adorable in this slightly swollen state, he’s left mystified by how such a small babe can disrupt everything about your body. your appetite increases and wanes depending on the day, you cry over a fallen bird's nest and then threaten to light him aflame. it’s a lot for him to wrap his head around, as someone who’s never really been well versed in emotions to begin with. but he is patient above all else—and that’s just fine with you. he’s there for every mood swing, he lets you beat on his chest and yell at him–he lets you crawl into his lap and hold yourself close, to giggle and kiss all over his face only to whisper how horny you are. 

at least that much is the same. if anything, it’s increased. and while sukuna has never been a delicate man, nor a submissive one—he is a somewhat changed man. his wife–only for his wife. he can tame the desire to absolutely fuck you apart for the sake of your growing child—he doesn’t know what exactly your body can handle at this time, despite what he may crave. but…you know what you can handle, don’t you? he…can allow you to use his body in this way too. it’s the least he can do, really. he knows he’s not the most caring man in the universe. frankly, he’s spent many a time thinking you deserve someone much more loving and doting than he. but you bask in the love that does flow from him, and your body is being used to grow his offspring. so yes, he clears the throne room of contractors and servants and architects making last minute adjustments, adding rooms fit for children to thrive in and his family to gather in; all because his precious wife made an appearance demanding his attention. yes, he lets you position yourself against his lap and rut against him at your own pace, grinding on his thigh while you beg for his hands to toy with your tits. 

“please–i need more, my king~” you pout, pawing at his wrists, dragging them up to your chest.he finds you enchantingly adorable, and this neediness is such a good look on you. not being able to throttle you nearly makes his bones ache, but he uses his lower set of hands to guide your hips over his defined thigh–his top set of hands giving into his sweet wife’s desires. 

and he always knows exactly how to touch you. he kneads at your breasts, the sore fat of your tits melting into his hands so perfectly you hiss and let your head fall back, rolling across your shoulders at just the simple enjoyment of his fingers tweak at your swollen nipples. he loves how sensitive you’ve become, how your brows pinch together and your cheeks darken the closer you get to soaking your panties. he knows you’ll plunge yourself on his cock over and over again–letting him coat your insides with the seed that’s already taken root in your gorgeous little womb. 

“of course. my naughty little queen can’t sleep without her husband’s cock pressing into her?” he coos, the words so taunting but so loving at the same time. you howl with excitement, ripping his pants down after several seconds of effort, your animalistic growls of need so pleasing to his ears and ego. you take as much of his cock inside as you can, thighs tightening at the effort. 

“mm–nuh uh, can’t help it–just need you all the time!! ‘s your fault–you did this to me!” you pout, bottom lip swollen from the amount of times your teeth have dug into it. your belly, just barely bloated with the sign of pregnancy, just glistens in the candlelight of his throne room, everything about you was calling out to him—as always. he doesn’t know why the sensation still surprises him every now and again. so he helps you, hands on your waist to help lift you up and down along the shaft of him, watching your face contort and ease with bone-deep pleasure. “oh, yessss~” 

your hands scramble to hold something, his wrists, his chest–anything with purchase as your orgasm shakes through your entire body. he only uses your tight walls for a few more lengthy strokes, erupting thick white ropes that paint your insides in the best way–the way that makes your legs tremble and buckle, so spent from your attempts at riding him that you’re leaning into his chest and closing your eyes to sleep. this has been your routine for about three weeks now, not that he minds. 

but the second trimester…oh how golden. this was the first time that sukuna really understood the beauty of pregnancy. with all of the nights of puking and bad sleep and weird cravings and mood swings and the list goes on—he was wondering what exactly was the big glow with babymaking aside from your sex drive and the overall concept that you get a baby out of it. but now, as your bump develops and grows everyday, as your energy evens out somewhat and all you want to do is nest and decorate for the baby—he gets it. uraume brings bigger robes so you may dress comfortably, and sukuna passes along your every demand to the builders. the baby’s nursery is being painted by hand, the crib by the finest carpenters that japan has to offer. sukuna wouldn’t be sukuna of course unless he threatened to kill every worker on the project if they spilled the news of what they were working on to a single soul. 

the fields outside the palace have become your favorite place to be. you enjoy laying in the sun, plucking the wildflowers that grow on the hillside and weaving them into a flower crown, and watching the animals sprint around in the treeline below. sukuna would watch from the castle some days, letting you bask in nature under his careful oversight. some days he joins you, listening to you prattle about the birds that like the sugar water you lay out. the peace that you bring to his life is something astounding. he never would have imagined himself enjoying listening to someone so bubbly and optimistic. you have always been a light he had never known existed, and he sees you as a literal angel. the way the summer skies cast a glow down on you—glowing up your hair and skin and highlighting that beautifully round bump. 

this day, he sits outside with you–watching you lean back, robes unbound to drink in some more sun. he’s proud that he’s able to make it such a safe place for you–your happy place. you can hear him approach, a joyful grin spreading across your face as you look over at him. 

“the baby knows you’re here~” you coo, supporting the underside of your rounded bump. the king lays beside you, a smirk on his face at the greeting. “say hello to your spawn.” you add, snickering. and dutifully so, he leans in and places his hand on your stomach. the broad paw spans most of the stretched skin, life and wonder sparkling in his ruby red eyes as he feels it, the repeated soft flutters against his palm make his heart skip a beat. his son or daughter is so active, and very strong. and they seemingly feel him, like you claimed. they like his voice and his touch, his gentle brush of his hand inspiring another tirade of kicks that send you giggling. 

it just makes things that much more real for him. his child is on the way, halfway grown already. he can’t wait to meet them, to see if they resemble you or himself more closely, to have a mini-him to take under his wing and entrust his philosophy to. he can’t wait to watch you be a mother either. just what his limited imagination can conjure up warms the coldness in his chest. the idea of you swirling around a sweet nursery with the baby smiling with gums and lips, cheeks rosy from being so loved. 

“hello, little baby of mine.” sukuna hums, leaning down to kiss below your navel. 

you smile sweetly, eyes crinkled in the corners. “we need to think of names!” you hum, running your fingers through his hair. it soothes you to have him so near, your protector and greatest advocate. he hums at the feeling, resting his chin on your breastplate, right before the swell of your stomach. those eyes melt you every time, especially when they look at you with such fondness. 

“their name will come to us when we look upon their face. no need to rush.” he hums softly, rubbing your stomach absentmindedly. he hadn’t even realized he was doing it. 

“i suppose so, but i would like to call them something aside from the baby.” you hum, twisting the pale pink strands around your fingers, wondering if your child would get this uniquely colored hair. 

“then let’s call them ayame, for now.” he decides, the corners of his lips twitching upwards in a smile. the word has so much significance in love and beauty, and he knows it’s the right one to bestow upon his unborn. 

“you’re so sweet, i love it. ayame–for now.” you hum once more–nodding your agreement, resting your hand atop his own. before long, the sun begins to set and the king ushers you inside for dinner—relieved your appetite returned. 

everyday after that was just as beautiful. you worked tirelessly daily to craft ayame’s clothes, knitting in neutrals to ensure the pieces would suit either gender of child. your excitement grows with your stomach, and so does sukuna’s protectiveness. you hardly use the bathroom by yourself. your pregnancy is now common knowledge amongst the castle staff–widespread across your kingdom. so naturally, sukuna is even more scrutinous of anyone coming in and out. the construction is nearly complete, but enemies could be lurking anywhere. and no one is more aware of that than your husband. 

he’s more than relieved whenever the construction reaches its final days as you’re about to pop. he still hovers, don’t misunderstand, but he can take a breath. any day now, you’d go into labor and the heian era’s new prince or princess would make their grand entrance. the nursery was fully prepared and the doctors and midwives had arrived as the construction workers were leaving, everything was in place. 

imagine his surprise when he’s thrown out of sleep in the middle of the night—one of his veils have been breached. moments later, uraume rushes into the room. 

“my king–the perimeter guards caught someone…they had weapons. ordered to kill the queen.” they pant, out of breath from hustling here so quickly. and with that one sentence, his every worst fear is confirmed. people are after you—they want to kill you. kill his baby and his wife in one fell swoop. 

he sees red. 

he looks over at you–sleeping deeply beside him. he can’t disrupt your rest, not when the baby will be coming so soon..so he leans over to kiss your lips softly before following uraume to the throne room to torture the infiltrator that thought they could get away with such a thing. 

he doesn’t think he’s ever been this bloodthirsty before, either. love like this makes you do crazy things–feel crazy things. the perpetrator is being held on his knees, head forced forward to look at the floor. 

“my servants tell me that we’ve caught a roach. let’s hear it.” he spits, intent on torturing this cretin slowly—send a message to everyone else that tries to come after his family. that if you attack—you will be dismembered and scattered across the continents with the breeze. 

“or maybe you just caught the fall guy, and you didn’t stop anything at all.” the man smirks boldly at the king, a shuffle upstairs catching his attention. 

you wake up when the last traces of your husband’s warmth has dissipated. you blink awake, feeling around in his spot to confirm his absence. huffing, you roll to your back, seeing his shadow shuffle around the room. “my love? are you having trouble sleeping tonight?” he’s been known to periodically wake up and patrol the place to make sure that nothing’s slipped past his other defenses. 

“notcha love—you can’t bring that demon to life, whore.” 

and those are the last words you ever hear. 

there’s a slash across your gut, deep. you can hear your blood splatter on the ground—similar to what you had always imagined your water breaking to sound like. you don’t even feel the pain, really. just the fear. just the realization—that you’re too late, that all sukuna had done was for nothing. you’re dying. you’re going to die today–here. alone, and scared, the slash that comes next nearly decapitates you, and you can’t use your technique. you never even got out of bed, only your legs had touched the floor. you hadn’t even been able to stand before they slaughtered you. 

the baby…the baby is gone just as grotesquely as you are–pulled from the gash in your midsection to fight these grown men on their own. ayame was a girl. and she was suffocated before her eyes ever opened, blood strewn about the room. 

the two murderers flee before sukuna makes it to the top floor, able to cascade a rope out of the window and sneak right out, now that all of the security is distracted.  

seconds later, he throws the door open. he nearly sprints forward to check on you–your form visible on the bed. but as he gets closer, he slips. his feet slide on something wet, warm—and he knows. he knows he’s lost the only person that ever mattered. his heart pounds faster as the staff rush in with the candles–revealing the gruesome scene. 

he sobs. it’s a foreign feeling, crying. he had only felt this once before—when he knew he was going to be a father. that was certainly more pleasant than…this. you’re gone. his light–his eternal sunshine…slaughtered like cattle on his bed. you’re gutted, the scent of iron finally hitting his senses. had he been in shock before? is that why he didn’t immediately notice? your head is barely attached to your neck—eyes wide open with horror, mouth hung open to scream. there’s so much blood. dripping out of your mouth, gushing over your chest and out of your abdomen–soaking your pretty lavender nightgown. he reaches for you, emotions heightened to levels left undocumented. that’s when he sees—his eyes focusing on the lifeless lump that was his baby daughter. he reaches for her too–little ayame. he cradles his girls to his body, absolutely wailing. his body spikes in temperature—cursed technique going haywire. he’s inconsolable. his cursed energy is spiking to heights unknown, body shifting—growing larger–rage flowing like a new source of energy all on it’s own. his soul is shattering, twisting and knotting up in his body–heart aching like never before. it was one mistake—he left for two seconds, to let you sleep and now you are gone forever. his baby is dead—his wife…he’ll never speak to you again. never feel your hands on his skin or the warmth of your kiss. he can’t go on like this—no. he has no desire to live. 

the love of his life, his first born child—ripped away from him in an instant. all the peace and happiness and joy you showed him existed has turned into the deepest and darkest personal hell he has ever known. he looks around him—even more blood than ever before. his technique—it killed everyone. he can’t find it in himself to consider it again, too focused on the mangled mess they made of his queen. he will avenge you—he will murder everyone in his path until someone can put him out of this misery. until then–he will take every other soul out of this world. if he can’t be happy–if he doesn’t get to live this life in peace–then no one else will either. 

the entire castle is consumed with the raw force of his cursed energy, shattered in an instant. as if he was a natural disaster in and of himself. perhaps maybe know he is…for he is no longer a man. ryomen sukuna never was quite just a man–the king of the heian era. but now, he is the king of something else. of all things bad and evil—of all the things that can help him enact revenge. the king of curses.

tags: @neon-crow @skypperlegacy @gis4greenandgreenisgre4t  @alastors-radio  @alltimenogoaway-blog  @tragedyofabrokensoul @gojosukuna2268  @hannas16  @alwaysfreakingout @thepurpleempath @pelicanpizza  @aenishas @satsuk-jjk @catobsessedlady @gucci-basura @eiaaasamantha @asukahiriko @t4naiis @thejujvtsupost @mymelx @maskedpacific @berranurates @enchantingartisanwitch @celena-alanze

[alwaysonthemend]

Author’s Note: I have nothing to say for myself. The Jummy has been making me feral for the last few days and I had to cleanse myself somehow… so I figured writing smut was the best method for that. (It makes sense to me, don’t worry about it) It starts out a little angsty with Jake being insecure, but don’t worry bc it heats up VERY quickly. As always, sorry for any typos. Also this is probably my most favorite thing that I've ever written so I hope you guys enjoy.

Content Warnings: Fem!reader, body insecurity, body worship, a little bit of cockwarming if you squint, unprotected sex, p in v sex, 18+ MINORS DNI 

Word Count: 3593

Preview: 

“You’re fucking solid, Jake. Powerful. You fuck me so hard. You think someone built like him could fuck me the way you do?” You shake your head. “Wouldn’t even come close. No one can fuck me the way I need it besides you.” 

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

Admittedly, it had taken you a little while to realize that something was off with Jake – far longer than it should have, given how long the two of you have been together. But, in your defense, Jake Kiszka is a master at hiding when something is wrong. 

The first warning sign had been a few weeks ago when Jake had declined going out to his favorite steak restaurant, claiming that he was too tired and that he’d had a late lunch anyway so he wasn’t super hungry. You’d been doubtful, but the two of you stayed in for the night and Jake had distracted you beyond the point of awareness of anything other than his tongue and fingers. He'd fucked you slow and deep that night and needless to say, you’d quickly forgotten about it.

The second came during a dinner with him and his brothers. You, Jake, Sam, Josh, and Josh’s partner had gone out to a local Thai place that all of you loved. You all frequented it regularly and got the exact same dishes every time – which is why you had been confused when Jake ordered something else. You’d looked at him in shock, as did everyone else at the table, but he’d simply shrugged and said that he wanted to try something new. When the food had arrived, you couldn’t help but notice that the dish was much smaller than the one he usually got, but he seemed to enjoy it so you didn’t say anything. Again, you’d allowed yourself to forget about it. 

The third warning (and arguably the most obvious one) happened just two weeks later on an impromptu lake house trip that you all went on. Deciding to enjoy the last bit of time that they had until tours started again, Danny had suggested that you all spend the weekend swimming and hiking at the lake, just like you all used to do when you were younger. It had been a wonderful weekend, and you almost didn’t notice that anything was wrong… almost. 

The first day there had been spent hiking and goofing around inside, but your second day was always reserved for swimming. That morning, as you were changing into your swimsuit, you watched as Jake pulled on his swim trunks; nothing out of the ordinary. But what was strange was that he then put on a swim shirt, hiding his gorgeous torso from view. 

“Why are you putting that on?” You asked, grabbing your towel from where you’d hung it on the bedroom door. 

“I don’t want to get sunburned.” He said, perching his signature sunglasses on his nose. 

You opened your mouth to tell him that he’s never cared about getting burned before (much to your annoyance and worry) but he swiftly left the room. You trailed behind him, staring at his shoulders through the swim shirt and worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. You couldn’t tell if he was actually being weird or if you were just overthinking. 

The rest of the trip had gone completely normal, with the boys acting like literal children in the water while you relaxed and sunbathed – occasionally joining them in the lake to participate in their craziness. But no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself you were overthinking, you couldn’t help but worry as you watched Jake in that stupid swim shirt. 

The entire drive home you’d wanted so desperately to bring it up to him, but you weren’t even sure what you were bringing up. Distantly, all those other little warning signs tinkled like little bells in the back of your mind, but you didn’t pay them any mind. Jake was acting completely normal. So what he was too tired to go to dinner one night? And why was it such a big deal that he wanted to try a different dish at a Thai restaurant? And maybe he really did just want to avoid getting sunburnt. And sure, you and him hadn't been intimate since that night he declined going out... but a few weeks wasn't really all that long in the grand scheme of things. Besides, even though it was between tours, Jake was still almost constantly busy with something – photoshoots, interviews, spending time in the studio. He was tired from work (and so were you). Nothing to be worried about. You shook your head at yourself, willing the little ball of anxiety in your gut to go away. 

And it did. Until just two nights later, when Jake asked you to turn the light off before he fucked you. 

“What? Why?” He was looking down at you, palms planted on either side of you and his weight settled on the bed between your thighs. He had on nothing but a plain t-shirt and his boxers. 

“No reason.” He said, reaching over to turn the bedside lamp off, plunging the room into darkness. He sunk his weight back on his heels to pull his shirt over his head before diving back down to attach his mouth to your breasts, suckling and biting at the sensitive buds. His distraction almost worked. 

“Jake, no.” You said, sitting up to stare at him. “Why do you suddenly want to turn the light off while we fuck?” 

“More romantic?” His words came out as a question, but he didn’t give you time to respond as he leant back down, intent on carrying on without explanation. 

“More romantic for me to not be able to see you?” He didn’t answer, instead beginning to place hot kisses down your throat, teasing the spot that he knew you loved. But you weren’t backing down. Not this time. 

“Jake, stop. Just stop.” 

He sat back up and you stared at him, trying to read his face in the dark. 

“You and I both know you’ve been acting weird. I’m not doing anything with you tonight until you tell me what the fuck has been going on with you.” You told him, your tone leaving no space for debate. 

“How have I been weird?” He asked, his voice far too cool and smooth for it to be genuine. 

“For one, you didn’t want to go to the steakhouse the other night. You know, the one you never say no to?”

“Y/n, I was tired. And full from lunch. How is that weird?” 

“You got something different when we went and got Thai with the guys!” You said, voice raising in volume as he kept staring at you like you were crazy. 

“Okay…” He said slowly, like he was speaking to a child. “And is that a crime? Am I not allowed to order something different?” 

“No. But you love that Thai dish that you always get!” Your hands flew about madly as you spoke, all the worry that you had pushed down finally coming to the surface. “And the swim shirt, Jake. You’ve never cared about getting burnt. Like ever. Why did you start caring now? And now you want to turn the light off while we fuck!” You were yelling now but you didn’t care. You were tired of ignoring that something was wrong. You didn’t know what it was – the dots not connecting between all these events yet. But you knew in your heart that something was wrong. 

“Please, Jake. We haven't slept together in weeks... which isn't like us at all! Just tell me what’s wrong so I don’t have to start making assumptions!” You had the inkling of one already, and you were praying that it was wrong. 

He stayed silent for a long moment, and the tension in the room was so thick you could probably cut it with a knife. Finally, his shoulders fell and he dropped his head. His hair fell on either side of his cheeks, framing his pretty face. 

“I’ve just… put on a few extra pounds recently. That’s all. It’s no big deal.” 

You stared, mouth falling open as the horrible assumption that had been plaguing your mind since the lake was confirmed. 

“So?” You asked, genuinely at a loss over him making this such a big deal. 

“So, I need to lose them. And maybe a few more.” You hated how sure he sounded as he said the words, like he’d already given this so much thought –and he clearly has. “I should've done it years ago to be honest."

“Jake, I-” You stopped, overwhelmed and at a loss for what to say. You wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him; scream in his face how wrong he was for feeling so low about his body. 

“You don’t have to say anything. It’s the truth. I’ve let it get too far and I have to slim down before tour starts.”

“Why?” The question is all your brain can come up with. You want to slap yourself for that being what your brain decided to spew at him first. He sighed deeply and hung his head. 

“Because, y/n. The outfits they make for me are always open chested – and people have already made comments about my weight in the past. So I want to slim down before we start again.” 

“Jake, those people have no right to make comments about your appearance. You’ve said that yourself in the past. Why do you suddenly care now?”

“Because they’re right about this. I don’t understand why you don’t get it!” 

For a split second, his raised voice hurts you, slicing through you as he snaps at you. But you know that it’s coming from his own hurt – the hurt that he’s been keeping to himself. 

“Jake,” you say quietly, “I’m confused because I think you’re the sexiest person on the planet. I love the way you look. I don’t care if you feel like you’ve put on some weight. You’re still just as sexy as you were before.” You pause, sliding up in bed so you can see him more clearly in the dark. “If I’m being totally honest, I think you’re even hotter now.” 

His eyes widen at your confession and even in the dark you can see the blush that overtakes his face. 

“You do?”

“Fuck yeah, I do. C’mere.” You beckon him to come and lay against the headboard. He complies, crawling his way up next to you and laying back. You toss one leg over his waist and settle on top of him, straddling him as you place your palms on his chest. 

“Do you know what I mean when I say ‘I love you?’” You ask him quietly. 

He nods his head. 

“I don’t think you do.” You lean your head down to press your lips softly to his for a moment before pulling away. “It means that I love all of you. Ever fucking thing about you – on the inside and on the outside.”

“But it’s embarrassing.” He whispers, eyes pinned on yours. “I don’t like being the heavier twin.” 

The phrase sounds foreign on his tongue and you realize that it's because he's quoting something – no doubt a shitty comment from some asshole who claims to be a fan. You have half a mind to slap the shit out of him. His words fill you with so much anger you feel like you’re going to explode. 

“Jacob, do not EVER compare yourself to Josh. Ever.”

“But-” 

“But nothing.” You cut him off, pressing your pointer finger to his soft lips to silence him before cupping his cheek with your palm. 

“If I wanted to be with Josh or someone built like Josh, I would be. But I don’t. I want you, Jake. As you are." You shake your head at him. "You're not fat, Jake. Like at all. You literally have nothing to be embarrassed about.” 

He’s looking at you with shiny eyes and you wish your words would be enough to convince him. But he’s nothing if not hardheaded, so you know it’s going to take more than a few flowery words to get him to see the truth. 

“I’m going to turn the light back on.” You say gently. “And I’m going to show you how much I love you. Okay?” 

“Okay.” He whispers, and you can practically see it as his whole body tenses beneath you. 

You reach up and turn the lamp back on, washing the room in golden light. Jake is still looking at you, his eyes wide and nervous. You give him a little smile as you settle back down on him. Forgoing anymore words, you press a feverish kiss to his neck, licking and sucking down the hollow of his throat. His breath stutters in his chest as you slide your ass downwards. His cock is soft after your conversation but you know you can get him back to where he was at the start of the night.

“I love your body, Jake. These pretty nipples.” You swirl your tongue around them, drawing a breathy moan from him. 

You reach out your arms and find his hands, laying limply at his side. You lace your fingers with his and bring his left hand to your lips, kissing his calloused fingers. “I love your hands. I love how they look when you play guitar – fast and merciless and so fucking talented. And yet they’re still so gentle when they touch me.” You slide his index finger between your lips, swirling your tongue around the digit before releasing it. “And I love the way you make me cum on your fingers. You’re better at that than anyone I’ve ever been with before.”

“Really? Better than anyone?” He asks, the whispers of his usual cocky self shining through.

“Really.” You assure him, dropping his hands to focus your attention elsewhere. “Can I tell you a secret?” You ask him, looking up at his flushed face through your lashes. 

“Yeah. Tell me.” 

“Your stomach is probably my favorite part about you.” You say, delicately trailing your fingers down his sternum and over the curve of his belly. 

He scoffs. 

“You’re just saying that.” 

You shake your head. 

“I’m not. It’s the truth, Jake. I fucking love it. I love watching the sweat drip down it while you play on stage. It makes me so fucking wet, imagining licking it off you.” You bring your mouth downwards, biting at his soft sides as your hands knead into the flesh. You suck his skin between your teeth, creating a purple mark just to the left of his belly button. “Everything about you makes me wet, but your belly does it the most.” 

As if in answer, your pussy throbs at the sight of the hickey you left there. You can see on his face that he still isn’t convinced so you slide off your panties and kick them to the side – leaving you in nothing but your tank top. You rise slightly off the bed and swipe a finger through your folds, collecting the wetness that’s pooled there. 

“See?” You say, allowing him to see your juices drip from your fingers. Wordlessly, he grabs your wrist and pulls your hand to his mouth. He wraps his lips around your finger, swirling his tongue to lap up your wetness. He moans at the taste of you and you pull your hand free. 

“Believe me yet?” You ask him with a sly smile. 

“Getting there.” He gives you a cheeky grin and you can’t help the butterflies that erupt in your stomach at the sight. 

You give his belly one last lick before moving downwards, avoiding where his half-hard cock lies in his boxers. 

“And I fucking love your thighs.” You tell him, sliding your palms up and down them as you speak. “So thick and strong. Makes me so fucking horny.” 

You trail kisses up the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, and the muscles twitch as you get closer to where he wants you. 

“You’re fucking solid, Jake. Powerful. You fuck me so hard. You think someone built like Josh could fuck me the way you do?” You shake your head. “They couldn’t even come close. No one can fuck me the way I need it besides you.” 

“Y/n… fuck.” His pupils are blown wide and his breathing is heavy. Even his chest is flush with his arousal. His cock is rock hard in his boxers now, tenting the fabric – straining them so much it looks like they might burst at the seams.

“And this,” you say, finally pressing your palm to his dick. “I don’t even have the words.” He groans at the pressure and his hips shift upwards off the bed in search for more. You give it to him, sliding his underwear down and off him. His cock springs free, slapping his stomach. You spit into your hand and wrap it around him, stroking him slowly. “You have such a pretty cock, Jake. It makes me feel so fucking good. Reaches places inside me no one else can.”

He groans loudly as you pump him, and you watch in awe as his eyes screw shut in pleasure. Your mouth waters and your cunt throbs at the sight and sound of him. Deciding that neither of you should have to wait for it tonight, you rip your tank top off quickly before sinking down on him, taking in his thick cock inch by inch. You moan and whimper as he stretches you, the familiar burn feeling so good. 

“Oh fuck!” Jake groans, opening his eyes to look at you taking his cock. “You’re so fucking beautiful, y/n. Look at you.” 

You still as you sink all the way down on him. He’s watching you with dark eyes and sweat is beginning to bead on his temples. 

“Jake…” you whine, beginning to rock your hips into his. 

“Shit, you’re so fuckin’ tight.” He growls, gripping your hips with his strong hands, kneading his fingers roughly into your flesh. 

You rise off him almost completely, before plunging back down on him – causing the both of you to moan loudly. You set a brutal pace, slamming down on him as he thrusts his hips up to meet yours. You drop your gaze downward to stare as each thrust causes movement in his soft belly, and you wail in pleasure and shock as you cum so hard you see stars. It tears through you so quickly you aren’t expecting it at all, and your movements still as waves of pleasure wash over you. When you finally come back to the world of the living, you want to be embarrassed for falling apart like that – but you can’t with the way Jake is looking at you. 

His jaw is open and his eyes are so dilated they look black. He looks like he wants to eat you alive. You both sit there, neither of you moving, as he looks at you like you’re the most amazing thing he’s ever seen. 

“Fuckin' hell.” He says, voice husky and broken.

 “Haven’t cum that easy since I was a fucking teenager.” You say, still a little embarrassed, despite his reaction.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” Jake confesses, flipping you over quickly so that he’s on top. 

You know he saw where you were looking when you came – he’d been staring at your face the whole time. As embarrassing as that blatant display of lust had been, you can’t help but be thankful that he saw. There’s no way he can doubt your earlier words after seeing that. 

“Fuck me, Jake. Fuck me hard.” You plead, hooking your legs around his waist and pulling him in closer to you. “Fuck me the way only you can.” The last part comes out as a whisper and his cock twitches as you say them. He plants his forearms on either side of you, caging you in with his body. 

“I’ll fuck you every day until the day I die.” He says, before plunging into you again. 

There’s no delay now as he snaps his hips into yours – the force of each thrust causing your whole body to move upwards. His powerful thighs drive into you with fucking monster truck force and the sound of his skin hitting yours is loud and obscene. You rake your nails down his back, undoubtedly drawing blood as he hits that special spot inside of you that only he can. 

“Oh fuck, right fucking there. Jesus Christ!” You scream, digging your fingers into his sides and squeezing. 

“You’re so fucking tight, y/n. I’m gonna fucking cum.” Sweat drips down his neck and chest and you take the opportunity to lean upwards and lick it off him, moaning at the salty taste of him. 

“Dirty fucking girl. Jesus.” 

His thrusts are growing sloppy and erratic and you can feel his cock twitching inside you. You clench around him and the sound that falls from between his lips is practically a whine. 

“Do it, Jakey. Give it to me.” 

And that’s all it takes for him to spill inside you. 

“Fuck!” He growls, sinking his teeth into the skin of your shoulder as he cums. The sting brings you over the edge too, and you clench around him as you cum – milking him for all he’s got. 

When the two of you finally resurface, Jake pulls out of you and collapses on the bed next to you. You turn on your side to see his hilariously fucked out expression. You giggle. 

“What?” He asks, turning his head to face you, a sweet smile on his lips. 

“Do you know what I mean now when I say I love you?”

His smile widens – his beautiful white teeth on display as he scoots closer to you. 

“Yeah, I think so.” 

He kisses you – deliberate and passionate. 

"Jake," you say as he pulls away, "if you want to lose weight for you, then I don't care. But if you're only doing it because you feel like you have to..." You trail off, heart heavy at the thought that he had been feeling so down on himself without you realizing.

He smiles at you – the widest and most genuine one he's given you all night, and he slots his lips against yours in another kiss.

“Thank you.” He says as he pulls away from you. "But I think you've convinced me that I'm good with how I am right now." Seriousness overtakes his soft expression as he looks at you. "Thank you."

“It was literally my pleasure. I love getting to worship you.” You lean your head on his shoulder and he pulls the covers up over the two of you and turns off the lamp. “All of you.”

He chuckles, and the sound rumbles in his chest where you’re pressed against him. 

“I love you too, y/n. All of you.”

---------

Taglist:

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@gold-mines-melting

@objectsinspvce

@starshine-wagner

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Let me know if you'd like to be added to my permanent taglist <3

[alexiethymia]

vashmeryl

While watching Trigun Stampede, I ended up binging the Trigun ‘98 anime, and I will try, but no doubt fail, to articulate what it is about VashMeryl that makes me so feral, and I mean in all continuities because the themes rings true for the both of them regardless if it’s TriStamp, TriMax, or the anime.

Many people have praised Meryl’s agency in Trigun Stampede, how a lot of the plot moves because of her contribution, and I can’t help but compare this to the anime, where it was because of her that Vash has a breakthrough in how to deal with Knives (after her and Milly took the time to heal and take care of Vash, ugh, found family for the win). In both TriStamp and the ‘98 anime, Meryl is juxtaposed (contrasted? given a parallel with?) Rem. 

And in the ‘98 anime, after Vash’s battle with Knives, he finds the peace to move on, casting aside what was in a way his clutch to Rem (his red geranium coat) to come back home to Meryl and Milly. 

And I love the ‘98 anime because of the implications, that he willingly sheds his outlaw persona for a chance to live a quiet life with Meryl, Milly, and his brother. It was Meryl who gave him the hope to do that, through her words, her invitation to stay together permanently, and even through her actions in standing up for him. (Honestly, the only thing that would have made the ‘98 anime ending perfect for me is if we had Wolfwood. Which is why if Knives could survive 1/3 of the continuities, I’m keeping my fingers crossed that Trigun Stampede is the continuity where Wolfwood actually gets to survive). 

Even in the manga, he makes a promise to return to her, and though he ends up quite late, he does end up making his way back to Meryl and Milly eventually.

I love how there’s a chain of influence that happens, and the parallels between the two. Rem says she had been influenced in her ideals because of the person she loved, Alex. Vash is influenced by her, and eventually Meryl is influenced by Vash to the point that she’s ready to stake her life for what he believes in, such that it becomes her ideals too. 

“You can’t save everyone, you can only be there for them.” And this really rings true for Meryl in that while she can’t save him the way Vash tries to save everyone around him, she can still be there for him, whether it’s staying and trying to help him when no one else won’t (Trigun Stampede), making a home for him to return to (’98 Trigun), or telling him to unburden himself because he’s not alone (TriMax). He’s superhuman but he gets hurt like anyone else. I love that Meryl doesn’t scoff at his ideals or tell him to stop, but just helps him in whatever way she can, the way he tries to help everyone else. She treats him not like some act of God, destruction personified, or a savior, but simply as Vash, a softie who needs a bit of help sometimes (which is why when Meryl ends up scared of him, it was heartbreaking, but again this is something she chose to overcome because her love outweighed her fear). 

But at the same time, she won’t simply wait around. Again, I love her agency. In TriStamp, she chooses to stay behind to help Vash (which was pivotal because who knows if Rem’s spirit would have been triggered if not for her voice) and in TriMax, even if it was Vash who made the promise, when he’s late, what does she do? Goes and meets him herself. 

In every continuity, she’s always aggressively chasing after him. When Vash said in the TriStamp finale that he’d keep running and running, and when it becomes quiet again, he’d settle back by humanity’s side, it sounded so lonely. 

And yet, when Vash runs, Meryl will chase after him. Even when he believes he should be alone because everyone who touches him dies, Meryl still wants to be by his side. Meryl proves over and over again that Vash is loved (in a way, to him as well) because she doesn’t ever want to leave him alone. And again, it’s such a wonderful ending in both versions (the anime and TriMax) that when Vash eventually does stop running, it’s to Meryl (and Milly) that he returns home to. 

[shadowtriovibes]

tell me anything (but don't you say he's what you're missing)

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Rating: E

Word Count: 3.3K

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, miscommunication, pre-relationship garreth/poppy, explicit sexual content, semi-public sex, fingering, toxic bf behavior

Summary: request: “can you imagine the chaos of Sebastian and MC agreeing to go on a double date, with their own dates, to make the other jealous?? Bonus chaos if MC brings Garreth!!”

“Sebastian, what has gotten into you tonight?” you ask him.

“Me?” Sebastian asks, and then he has the audacity to laugh. “What about you?”

“What about me?!” you demand. “I’ve been nothing but polite all evening, which is more than I can say for you!”

“Oh, polite,” he drawls. “Sure. ‘You look lovely this evening, Poppy! You’re so talented with beasts, bloody brilliant, you are!’”

You’re on your way to Transfiguration when Garreth sidles up beside you on his mission.

You’ll blame Sebastian for how distracted you are at the moment. He’d begged off studying with you last night to do Merlin knows what — probably working his way through another one of those archaic magic books he’d managed to charm Scriber into letting him borrow, you think.

It had been a few days since you’d even seen him. Between tending to your N.E.W.T.-level plants in the greenhouses and Sebastian’s Quidditch practices, there had simply been no time.

If you were to be honest, it almost felt like you were being ignored.

So, when Garreth manages to pull you aside and offer you a compliment on your latest batch of Veritaserum that you’d presented for Sharp earlier that morning, it feels nice.

“Thank you, Garreth,” you murmur shyly. “That means a lot. Lately it feels like Sharp is so difficult to impress.”

“You’re a right sight better at it than me,” he laughs. “Speaking of which, I was actually thinking about offering you a sort of… trade.”

“Oh?” you ask, surprised. “What’s that?”

“Well, I was hoping you wouldn’t mind tutoring me in Potions before Sharp’s exam next week?” he asks hopefully. “I was thinking we could meet up for some extra practice in the evenings, and afterward I could take you to the Three Broomsticks to celebrate.”

You raise your eyebrows and clutch your books a bit closer to your chest. Is Garreth Weasley asking you to Hogsmeade on a date?

At first you think that can’t possibly be what he means. You’re with Sebastian after all, aren’t you?

( …Aren’t you?)

While you pause to consider Garreth’s offer, you remember that you’ve never heard Sebastian call you his girlfriend, nor have you ever discussed whether the two of you could date other people. Sure, you spend a lot of evenings together, and he’s traced his hands — and lips — across more of your body than anyone else. But is he your boyfriend?

You aren’t sure.

And Garreth is sweet. He’s always got a kind word to say to you whenever your potion goes awry or you struggle to learn a new charm. On top of that he’s plenty handsome, and he’s friendly in a way that makes Sebastian seem not unlike a feral cat whenever he curls up alone with one of his books instead of joining you by the fire in the common room.

“If it helps, I went to Sallow first,” Garreth explains. “I figured I should, given how close the two of you are, and he said it was perfectly fine for me to ask.”

Oh, he did, did he?

“Er… alright, yes,” you breathe. “That sounds lovely, Garreth.”

He beams brilliantly and your heart races a bit, but whether it’s from excitement or guilt, you aren’t quite sure.

Word quickly spreads around the castle that Garreth managed to snag a date with you, so you know it won’t be long until you have to answer to a certain Slytherin about the matter. In fact, when Sebastian sits down next to you the following afternoon at lunchtime, you’re quite sure that he already knows.

“Weasley? Really?” are the first words out of his mouth.

“Good afternoon to you too, Sebastian,” you sigh as you turn a page of your Charms textbook.

“What exactly are you playing at?” he asks you carefully. “Have I done something?”

“Believe it or not, not everything I do is about you,” you tell him cheekily. “I’m just helping Garreth with some of his potions techniques, that’s all.”

“‘That’s all?’” he repeats skeptically. “What about your little date, hmm? I had to hear about it from Amit, for Merlin’s sake.”

You shrug silently, and Sebastian’s jaw tenses.

“I wasn’t aware you were dating,” he grits out. “I suppose any expectation of exclusively on your end was foolish of me.”

You avert your gaze guiltily and eventually mumble, “It’s just Butterbeers, Bas. It’s not serious. Garreth is a good friend, don’t get your wand in a knot.”

“Then I’m sure you won’t mind if I bring a date of my own on Saturday?” he asks offhandedly.

You freeze, your eyes going wide. “What? Who?!”

“Poppy Sweeting,” he says innocently. “She’s a nice girl. Smart as a whip, too. Thought I’d take her for a Butterbeer or two and get to know her a little better. As it stands, I already asked her just this morning.”

You narrow your eyes at him while he meets your gaze expectantly.

“…Fine,” you eventually force out. “Honestly, I don’t even care.”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Actually,” you counter, “why don’t we just make it a double date? Garreth and I, and you and Poppy.”

As far as bad ideas go, this one of yours is especially atrocious. However, once you’ve issued a challenge like that, Sebastian will feel that no choice but to meet it.

“Alright,” he says slowly. “You’re on. Saturday at seven, then?”

“We’ll see you then,” you answer, slamming your book closed and storming off, leaving your lunch unfinished.

———

When Saturday arrives, you agree to meet Garreth outside his common room.

Of course, this is mostly so you can avoid having to see Sebastian before he makes his way down to the kitchens to meet up with Poppy. However, Garreth, who is naïve to your antics with Sebastian, finds the whole thing quite charming.

“Don’t you look lovely,” he says when he steps out from behind the portrait of the Fat Lady.

“Thank you,” you demur. “I take it your Potions exam went well?”

“Passed with flying colors,” he says proudly. “All thanks to your excellent tutelage. Genuinely, I never could have done it without you.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” you protest, blushing. “You’ve got a knack for potions, I’ve seen it myself.”

“I’ve a knack for ruining potions,” he corrects with a laugh. “You’re the one with the talent required to achieve an Outstanding.”

The two of you make easy conversation as you walk the winding path down to Hogsmeade. You’re unpleasantly reminded of the very first time you took this path with Sebastian several years ago, and you try to force yourself to stay in the moment with your dear friend and not think about what Sebastian is doing.

(You absolutely do not want to imagine that he’s happily holding hands with Poppy further along down the path, or that he’s perhaps pulled her aside behind one of the many trees for a quick snog as he’s done with you countless times.)

Shortly after you arrive at the Three Broomsticks, Sirona seats you at a table that seats four and brings around your first round of Butterbeers. When Sebastian joins you a few moments later, he escorts Poppy right up to the table and gentlemanly pulls her chair out for her.

You quietly seethe while Sebastian winks at you over Poppy’s head and takes his seat next to her.

“It’s so good to see you!” Poppy says brightly, eagerly taking your hand. “I’m so glad we finally got to do this.”

“M-me too,” you stammer, forcing a smile. “You look lovely, Poppy.”

She beams happily and smooths her hands across her skirt. “Thank you! I suppose it’s rather nice to have an occasion to clean up for. I was in a right state earlier, as Professor Howin had me in the Diricawl pens all afternoon.”

“You’re always offering to help with those beasts,” you observe fondly. “They must adore you so.”

“I do my best,” she answers, going slightly pink.

“Garreth,” Sebastian offers cordially. “Good to see you, mate.”

“Sebastian,” Garreth replies. “Likewise. I’ve hardly seen you outside the library in ages!”

Sebastian smiles ruefully and says, “Well, now that you mention it, I haven’t told anyone yet, but I’ve been busy preparing my application for the Auror recruitment program.”

You nearly choke on your Butterbeer, and Poppy kindly offers you her napkin.

“Auror recruitment?” Garreth asks, followed by a low whistle. “Impressive.”

“Why didn’t I know about this?” you ask Sebastian directly.

“It was going to be a surprise,” he tells you simply, but you suspect the truth has more to do with his reticence to share the news until he’s been accepted.

“And?” you ask him expectantly.

He merely shrugs. “No word yet. I just sent it off this morning.”

“I’m sure you’ll be accepted, Sebastian,” Poppy says encouragingly. “You seem like an excellent candidate.”

He shrugs again and thanks her for the kind words. You attempt to hide your sullen expression behind your Butterbeer mug.

You manage to make it through the first round and the next without any real mishaps. Unfortunately, when your third mug arrives, Garreth casually drapes his arm across the back of your chair, and Sebastian gets that look on his face that you recognize as one that imminently precludes some sort of nonsense.

“Garreth,” he says slowly. “I meant to ask earlier, how did your tutoring go?”

“Quite well,” he answers happily. “I got decent marks for once, thanks to this one.”

Sebastian hums thoughtfully while you grin back at Garreth. Then he casually says, “You wouldn’t have happened to be practicing with Amortentia, perhaps? Because it certainly looks like the two of you have gotten quite close rather quickly.”

Your jaw drops, and Garreth goes red.

“N-no, just some regular antidotes,” he quickly stammers. “I wouldn’t — that’s not, um.”

“No, of course you wouldn’t,” Sebastian says easily. “Must just be your natural charm then.”

You cannot believe him.

“Sebastian, may I please speak to you for a moment?” you hiss. “Privately?”

He offers nothing in response. Rather, he simply stands up from his chair and wordlessly gestures toward the stairs behind the bar.

“I’m so sorry, we’ll just be a moment,” you mumble to Garreth as you quickly turn and make your way toward the stairs, trusting Sebastian to follow.

As soon as you round the corner, the noise from the pub downstairs drops significantly. You imagine it’s probably some kind of charm to offer Sirona’s upstairs guests a moment of respite — in fact, it’s the first time all evening that you’ve been able to hear yourself think.

Mercifully, it’s entirely empty at the moment, which means you can round on Sebastian as forcefully as you please.

“Sebastian, what has gotten into you tonight?” you ask him.

“Me?” Sebastian asks, and then he has the audacity to laugh. “What about you?”

“What about me?!” you demand. “I’ve been nothing but polite all evening, which is more than I can say for you!”

“Oh, polite,” he drawls. “Sure. ‘You look lovely this evening, Poppy! You’re so talented with beasts, bloody brilliant, you are!’”

“What’s wrong with that?” you counter. “Poppy is my friend, and she is brilliant.”

“You’re not — Merlin, it’s just…” Sebastian starts before signing frustratedly and trailing off mid-thought.

“Go on,” you insist. “Say it.”

He drags a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath before practically shouting, “All the compliments, the praise, it’s like you actually want me to date her!”

You freeze as you anxiously grip the wooden railing at your side to steady yourself.

“…You could,” you say quietly, nervously tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as an excuse to turn away from him. “Poppy is lovely.”

The frustrated groan he lets out makes your knees go a little weak.

“She’s not you,” he finally admits. “I can’t… I don’t want her.”

“Then tell me,” you plead. “Who do you want?”

“You know who I want,” he says in a low voice. “You’ve known, love. I thought it was quite clear what we are.”

“Clear?” you scoff. “You’ve got to be joking. I’ve never known where we stand, Sebastian. You’re practically incorrigible one day and then the next you barely look at me. You tell me you ache for me and then you’ll tell Garreth that he should ask to court me. What was I supposed to think?”

“Wh-what?” Sebastian stammers. “I told Garreth what?!”

“He told me that you said he could ask me to Hogsmeade,” you repeat. “He said he talked to you before he even approached me.”

Sebastian looks seething mad. “That foul git, I would never have said that.”

“Garreth isn’t a liar,” you stubbornly insist. “Nor did he spike me with Amortentia, by the way.”

“I barely talk to him, when would I have—” Sebastian starts, and then he stops in his tracks again. “Hang on.”

“Here we go,” you mumble under your breath.

“Last week he asked me if it would be alright to approach you about some tutoring,” he says slowly. “Not a date, mind you.”

“Was it tutoring, or ‘tutoring ?’” you ask patiently, leaning hard into the inflection.

Sebastian quirks an eyebrow. “There’s a difference?”

Merlin’s beard, he truly is unbearably thick.

“You arse,” you grit out. “Of course there’s a difference! He meant the latter.”

“I only said that I figured you’d offer to help him study because you’re a good friend!” he counters, indignant. “If I’d known that this was his intention, I never would have encouraged it!”

“…Really?” you ask hesitantly, suddenly shyer than before as you shift anxiously in the quiet rafters of the pub. “Because I… I thought you’d told him to ask me out because you’d grown tired of me.”

For as dense as Sebastian can occasionally be, he has a knack for recognizing when you’re feeling unmoored, and he’s always quick to ground you in his arms.

“Darling,” he sighs, reaching for you with careful hands until it’s apparent that you’ll let him pull you in against his chest without a fight.

“I will never grow tired of you,” he murmurs into your hair. “And I know I’m probably a dreadful boyfriend, but if you’ll give me another chance I’ll make it up to you, however you want.”

“‘Boyfriend,’ hmm?” you ask softly. “Is that what you are?”

“…Merlin, I really am rubbish at this, aren’t I?” he laughs self-deprecatingly.

“Sebastian,” you say quietly. “You know I’m mad about you, but we have to do this right this time. If you’re my boyfriend, then be my boyfriend.”

“I swear to it,” he says as he gently sways you side to side, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. “I’m all yours, love.”

You allow yourself to be held for long enough that you start to feel guilty for having abandoned your dates. Just as you’re about to suggest that the two of you go back downstairs and make some excuses, you feel his hands start to drift lower — down your sides to your hips, and then teasing at the hem of your skirt.

“Bas,” you hiss. “No.”

“Come on,” he whispers into your ear. “No one is up here, we’re all alone. Let me touch you, just for a bit?”

You whimper quietly as he backs you up against the railing. Down below you can hear the noise from the crowded pub, and you honestly can’t be sure if anyone can see you up here in the darkened rafters.

“There you are,” Sebastian mumbles as he nudges your legs apart with one of his thighs. “Good girl.”

“You’re obscene,” you gasp, whining softly when he presses two long fingers against your entrance through your thin undergarments. “…Don’t stop.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmurs.

Sebastian noses along your jawline until you tip your head back for him, your eyes fluttering shut as he carefully works a bruise into your skin right above the collar. You know damn well that Garreth and Poppy will spot it as soon as you return downstairs, but you can’t find it in yourself to ask him to stop.

As he marks you up, he slips his fingers inside your panties and easily presses them into you. You let your legs fall open wider so he can work his thumb against your clit the way he knows you like.

“Sebastian,” you sigh.

“Do you think Weasley would do this for you?” he growls against your jaw. “You think he would bring you up here away from everyone else and touch you like this?”

“N-no,” you stutter.

“No, he wouldn’t,” he continues. “He’s too polite, like sweet little Poppy.”

“Be nice,” you whine.

“Maybe the two of them should give it a go,” he sneers. “Leave all the real fun to us, hmm?”

You rest your head on his shoulder while he works you over, curling his fingers to press against that spot inside you that makes your legs tremble and your eyes roll back.

“After I make you come, I want you to go back downstairs with me and set things straight,” he murmurs. “They’ll know exactly what you let me do and all this will be over, just like that.”

“What about you?” you whimper. “Can I touch you first?”

“I’ll wait,” he tells you softly. “Until after, in the Undercroft. You’ll take care of me then, won’t you, love?”

Merlin, you wish he’d let you get him off now. You can feel the hard outline of his cock pressing against your hip and you wish he’d just pull it out and fill you up right here, even though Sirona would undoubtedly ban you for life.

“Bas,” you whine. “Please.”

“As much as I love how eager you are, darling,” he murmurs, punctuating his words with a particularly firm thrust of his hand, “we’ll need somewhere much more private.”

When he finally brings you off, you’re already thinking about how you’ll get on your knees for him as soon as the gate to the Undercroft shuts behind you.

He’s grinning when you eventually open your eyes.

“You’re unbelievable,” you hiss.

He merely smirks and gently pulls his hand out from between your thighs, letting your messy, ruined undergarments settle back into place. You wince knowing you’ll have no choice but to wear them to go downstairs and even back to the castle.

“We ought to be off,” he says lazily. “We’ve kept our poor dates waiting long enough, I think.”

You shift your skirt slightly as you sneak back downstairs behind Sebastian. However, before either of you can rejoin the table, Sebastian pauses just around the corner and gently holds up a hand.

“Look,” he murmurs.

Across the room, you see Poppy giggling happily while Garreth demonstrates a trick with one of the pub’s napkins. He taps his wand against it and it folds itself into a plush-looking Niffler, and then a friendly Kneazle. Lastly, he wads it up himself and offers it to her with a cheeky grin, and you know from having seen him carry out the same trick during one of your tutoring sessions that he’s just told her it’s a Puffskein.

She laughs brightly and blushes, easily accepting it from him.

“Well, well,” you murmur. “Poppy and Garreth… who would’ve thought?”

Sebastian just turns around and smiles smugly at you.

“Don’t start,” you warn him. “You didn’t.”

“I absolutely did,” he beams. “Come on, love. Did you really think I had a thing for Poppy? I love you, and she’s been here for Garreth this whole time.”

Your mouth hangs open uselessly while you try to put together a witty retort, but you’re utterly at a loss for words.

“B-but it was my idea to make it a double date!” you eventually stammer.

“Was it, though?” he asks knowingly, and you simply groan in frustration.

Sebastian laughs delightedly while you follow him out the front doors of the pub, the only intelligible words coming out of your mouth being “wanker” and “unbelievable.”

But when he wraps his arm around your waist and starts to walk you back to the castle, you figure you won’t really be angry with him for long — not when he’s finally demonstrated that he actually does have a sweet side.

[thelostgirl21]

I'm late to the party like you wouldn't believe, but I've got to say something, because I'm so upset!

Okay, unpopular opinion, I actually loved Jaskier's Season 3 hair!

Was it always perfectly styled? No. There were a few scenes where I personally thought it could have used a bit more volume, or a bit more volume in some places while a bit less in others; but, most or the time, I was more than fine with it, and thought it suited Jaskier well!

At times, I literally adored it!

Ex:

To me, those are moments where I thought Jaskier looked his best in the series! Loved the hair!

Then again, personally, I tend to prefer Joey's looks with his forehead cleared and his hair longer.

Like, this is I think one of the most gorgeous non-feral hairstyles I've ever seen on him:

(X)

This is an absolutely gorgeous man, and I personally prefer his hair styled like this than short.

(Note: I'm not saying he's not beautiful with short hair, too, simply stating personal preferences. Certain aesthetic choices are based on comfort, too, and he can 100% afford to sacrifice the "long haired look" for something that makes him feel more comfortable. He can rock plenty of different looks!)

Then, of course, there's the feral look that is just in its own category...

So why am I upset?

I've just found out that he didn't wear a wig in Season 3!

That Jaskier's Season 3 hair were simply Joey's own hair that he had decided to grow out.

And look, I'm fine with everyone having preferences!

That's not my issue. Having your own tastes and not being a fan of Joey's Season 3 hairstyle is not the issue at all!

There were posts simply mentioning that they hated that it looked so flat, when we could have been graced with something a bit more like this:

And I do get preferences when it comes to styling.

It's just that I recall how - since people assumed it was "an ugly wig" that had been forced on his head by the wig department, rather than what they considered "a bad hairstyle" - the comments on "Jaskier's hair" were at times downright nasty!

And I just gotta get out of my system that those of you that have been literally making fun of his "sudden 4-inches receeding hairline" (first I'll have you know I find receeding hairline pretty hot!), when it's kinda remained the same for 3 seasons (it's called BANGS people. Joey tends to wear those with his shorter haircuts! Look it up!), for example, really suck!

His hairline has always gone pretty far up on each side, even in some of his earlier work... Ex: Gopher in "Mount Pleasant" (2016):

Like he's got very thick hair that form a "V" shape at the top (my mom had that, but I didn't inherit it... And we've got tons of hair... Like, a lot! * ) and a pretty large forehead.

*

(That's me at 18, and then at 28 - before I brought them back to a lower back length - but my mom is the same in terms of thickness, she just has that V in the front I lack, and it never receeded any further in her life.)

And there would be no shame in having thin hair, or any form of baldness anyway!

So yeah! I remember sort of heavily ignoring all those "ugly wig" comments because I, too, had assumed it was a wig (turns out Joey's hair seem to be a bit like mine, and grow pretty fast), and at some point you choose your battles.

Did I think a bunch of you were immature assholes for needing to hate on that "ugly wig" so much? Yes. But you find those in any fandom!

Personally, I thought "the wig" was awesome!

But now, I kinda regret not having taken the time to be more supportive of Jaskier's Season's 3 hair given I actually like it...

Because that's just a (very sweet) human being's hair, that was styled in a way that a number of people didn't like.

Again, zero problem for those that thought it was badly styled, and that the look didn't suit Jaskier!

Critiquing what you find a "bad hairstyle" is no cause for shame!

But, for those of you that took it to the next level with all those "ugly wig" comments, you fucking suck, I sure hope you've since found out that you'd been openly ridiculing a fellow human being's real hair, that it makes you feel like complete pieces of shit, and that feeling like complete pieces of shit is going to help you learn from your mistakes, before you start attacking other people's personal physical features in the future!

"Well, I didn't know!"

Here's today's lesson:

When you don't know, please kindly shut up and assume the hair you see is the real thing!

Or critique the wig like you would a real hairstyle, asking yourself "Hmm... Is describing someone's real hair the way I do going to make me sound like a bully?"

Like I said, I'm aware I'm pretty late to the party, but the the kid in me that got heavily bullied in school over her own hair really needed to get it out of her system!

[angelicyoongie]

MAGGYYYYY

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

(please excuse my late rant about your latest Lovesick chapter, but I finally have some time to breathe and read)

The WHOLE chapter had me so feral DUGFSODFFDU like I was immediately shocked at the beginning when the MC was in absolute pain and I did feel a little bad upon discovering that Yoongi and Taehyung went out of their way to get a nice Christmas tree :( (but that still doesn't excuse them!!) I was glad to see more interaction between the MC and Jin and Hobi! I am also VERY excited for what will happen between them next chapter 👀👀👀

BUT OHHH BOY THE SMUTTT 🥵🥵🥵🥵

Can I just start off with how beautifully you write smut??? Like, not many writers have the same capacity to write it as fluidly and as ardently as you do! I could feel the tension and heat projecting from the scene and was absolutely immersed in all of it! The lines "Can't stop thinking about how good you'd look choking on our cocks," "...we're going to make you come so much you forget your own name," "Can I fuck you? Is that alright?," and "I'm going to take such good care of you, Y/n, promise" had me in an absolute CHOKEHOLDDDDD, I COULDN'T BREATHE OUFSDFOFGD (therewerealsosomanymorelinesbutthatwouldjustbecopyingandpastingyourentirechapter)

Also the fact that Jimin came prepared and brought condoms to the cabin had me chuckling LOL

I was so excited to see Tannie!! Finally, something to break the monotony for the MC and give a spark of hope :') Even then, I was really hoping for SOME understanding from the boys regarding the lovesick theory, but, like you mentioned in an earlier ask, it's too early for them too hear that right now. I hate to say it, but MC might need to wait a couple months (or years??) for them to finally come to their senses and realize how concerning their behavior has been. I still have hope for the MC's freedom!!!

That aside, Maggy, I hope you are staying as happy and healthy as can be and take as much time as you need for the next chapter! I am sure many readers, myself included, are more than willing to wait for whatever more you have in store for us. Can't wait for the finale of Lovesick!! 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

K

omg no worries, i hope you're doing well! 🥺

i gotta switch it up a little bit every now and then, lol! keep u guys on your toes 😌 taegi did try to do something sweet so i do feel a little bad for them sdhsjk. i think you're really going to enjoy the next chapter if you're looking forward to 2seok and the mc together, hehe 👀

AAAAA thank you so much!! 😭 it's funny because writing smut is such a struggle for me, it just never seems to get easier lmao. but it means a lot that you think it's still good regardless!!

it had to be him 💀

tannie is just the bestest boy and he's doing wonders for the mc's mental health for sure! yeah, it would've been great if they had shown some understanding but it's simply just too early :( they have had good progress so far but there's still quite bit to go, so i don't think months to years is an unreasonable timeline 😬

thank you so much K, you're so sweet to me and i always love reading your comments!! 💖 they mean the world to me 🥺💖 i hope you'll enjoy the final chapter tomorrow as well!!

[ravencromwell]

Am back to watching the best! tutor-era show in existence: one Wolf Hall, adapted by the incomparable Peter Straughan because Thomas Cromwell, fundamental gutter-rat who'll fight dirtier than half the bastards in London even know is possible while having a veneer of polished civility is giving me the fiercest Ros Vortalis vibe my GOD. So, I thought I'd share the best fucking exchange from the show which is just Mark Rylance's Cromwell going absolutely fucking feral over dinner with the tiniest provocation over his surrogate dad Cardinal Wolsey. I can't find the YouTube clip, which is an absolute travesty because the dialogue alone will never do Mark's performance justice and any of you who haven't devoured this series find it by any means necessary and then come scream about it with me. But for now, let me show you the ambassadorial dinner no one fucking expected disgraced Tom Cromwell to have the balls to show up at:

[Tom, cool as a cucumber while everyone else freezes in horror since they have absolutely! been gossiping about him]: "Did you want to talk about me, Master More? You can speak while I'm here, I have a thick skin." [Thomas More's inner monologue: oh, fuck the crazy bastard who's been a hired mercenary! of all things! for our enemies the French! showed up oh he's _looking at me oh dear let me wipe the sweat from my brow with this napkin and give the master-class on everything you don't do to lie convincingly]: "No-one was talking of you." [Cromwell: inwardly rolling up sleeves. Oh, this will be fun!]: "Of the Cardinal, then?" [poor. poor host: I will salvage my dinner if it's the last thing I do. I simply must summon my power of manic cheer!] Thomas, this is Monsieur Chapuys, the Emperor's new ambassador here in London. Monsieur Chapuys, my friend, Thomas Cromwell. [poor new ambassador who doesn't understand what's about to happen to his polite society debut]: Enchanted. [after which he makes his evening's first and last mistake, leaning over to Thomas More to chat in Italian: "I have heard of this one. No one knows where he comes from. Like the wandering Jew." [poor bastard's new and dumb and fails to understand Cromwell isn't happy since Wolsey fell unless he eviscerates six people before bed] [Tom inwardly: oh, this is how we're gonna play it?] "I hardly know where I come from, myself. If you want to speak half-secretly, try Greek, Monsieur Chapuys." [host, staring between a gawp-mouthed new ambassador, sulking Thomas More and smug as a pig in shit Tom Cromwell: manic cheer aid me now! Upon which he says to More:] "My friend, you are looking at your herring as if you hate it." [Thomas More, making five-year-olds look like Zen masters of self-control by comparison]: "There's nothing wrong with the herring." [poor host, finally defeated]: "Ah." [More, who cannot let himself keep getting slapped around he's a man of importance I tell you!]: "But of Cardinal Wolsey, I'll say only this -he has brought his fall on himself. He's drawn all to himself - land, money and titles. He's always had a greed for ruling over other men. I think it's a little late to read the Cardinal a lesson in humility. His real friends have read it long ago and been ignored." [Cromwell inwardly: this stopped being fun and became the biggest crock of shit I've ever been priveleged to witness. Fuck civility.] "And you count yourself a real friend, do you? I'll tell him - and by the blood of Christ, Lord Chancellor, he'll find it a consolation as he sits in exile and wonders why you slander him to the King." [Host, genuinely scared they might fight with the butcher knives now and More is a weedy little thing Cromwell could take him without even breaking a sweat oh god what if he dies at my dinner? Because I invited Cromwell Thomas More is second-in-command to the king!] "Gentlemen..." [Cromwell, oblivious, having worked up his full glorious head o' steam]:" No, let's have this straight. Thomas here says, "I'd spend my life in the church, if I had a choice. I'm devoted to things of the spirit. I care nothing for wealth. The world's esteem is nothing to me." So how is it I come back to London and find you've become Lord Chancellor? What's that?" Three beats of aching, glorious silence. "A fucking accident?"

[anika-ann]

Hi, how are you doing? Just want to let you know that this is my first time sending you an ask. I love your energy here, been following you for a while. You're always so positive and supportive of other’s work. I love this about you💖

I love your writing so much. Fan would not be suffice to say how big supporter of your work i am. 💗 you created this awesome world for us, I'm grateful that you exist.

It might sound stupid but in your opinion what could be the places other than bed Steve would want to have sex with reader😉 is he the type who enjoys shower sex that continues on bed for the whole night? 😉

Hey nonnie 🥰

I must admit, this took a turn I did NOT expect at all but I love it 😂💕

First of all, thank you for so much kind words and for reaching out 🥰 I makes me truly happy you feel like my energy here (as little of it as it seems to be lately) is positive! Call me naive, but I really like the idea of curating a friendly atmosphere here, because most of us I think are coming here to unwind and share our thoughts and creations, small or big, and it takes A LOT of time and energy and courage to give out a piece of art (a piece of you) out here... so let's hear it for those who do that 💕

I'm just delighted that you enjoy my work too 🥺 Hopefulyl it brings a smile to your face every once in a while 😘

As for the other thing... 😏

MATURE CONTENT UNDER CUT. Minors DNI.

Oooooh, I think Steve is a very much 'cannot keep hands to himself when the mood strikes for long' kind of guy.

But he's also respectful and makes sure his girl is comfortable - or at least comfortable with being uncomfortable. I'm not sure if this is a question about a specific 'reader', so I'll be focusing on Steve - and on a fem!reader (though some are possible for others too, I suppose).

Bed: This one is obvious to me. Be it sweet loving, worship-like kneeling at the altar of reader's body (if you catch my drift), he appreciates a bed, okay. That piece of furniture still offers a lot of possibilities.

Shower: I can see it, no prob, have written it before 😇 It wouldn't be like, let's go to shower and go at it - I imagine it could be after a mission, helping each other clean up and things going side-ways. It could be they are freezing after hours outside and they decide to warm up together, in more way than one.

Other than these things... like I said. Wandering hands.

If let's say the reader happens to be making breakfast in Steve's shirt only, you might as well wave a red flag in front of a bull. Steve has no qualms about alternative uses of a kitchen counter. I think he'd be big on domesticity and the combination of his girl in his/their kitchen in the morning, more so if wearing his clothes (hello possessivness) would drive him near feral (yup, I used that word).

Some days it be like that, that they simply won't make it as far as the bedroom. Steve doesn't only appreciate horizontal surfaces. He loves vertical ones too. That man enjoys hauling his lover up by the thigs and taking them against the wall. Or the door. Hell, maybe even a mirror, I mean, men they tend to be visual types - especially since our boy is an artist ✨

Combinations allowed. Just because they didn't amke it to the bed for teh first round doesn't mean they won't use the comfy matress for the second... or third... or-

That said, I believe him to be a private guy - filthy but private in this matter. He would tease about others hearing you two or seeing you, but he wouldn't proceed if there was a chance of anyone catching you in the act for real. Possibly only after, and that would be after he made sure you were... 'decent'.

Bonus: I can imagine some holiday lovin' in front of a fireplace 🥰 Steve would be very appreciative of the way light and shadows wrap his lover's body - artists' eye, again -and would enjoy just running his fingertips or lips over their skin, watching goosebumps rising to his loving (and teasing) touch.

There we go - I hope this works 💕 I had fun 🤭

Thank you again for reaching out, sweet😘

[trulybetty]

Sunday | Week In Review III

Sunday Week In Review III.

What a week it has been - I’ve read some great updates to some really good fanfics this week (and some I still need to reblog to the dash) and I’ve been in my mother effing Joel Miller feels - but Frankie seems to be helping 😏

Hope everyone had a good week! I’d love to hear what you enjoyed this week and if you have your own week in review you want to share that I can link here!  

Side note: who was writing, or planning to write, something involving ex-Frankie on the beach? It popped into my head this morning and has not left me and no search I've done has yielded anything to the point now I think I'm making it up lol.

Disclaimer: did not get into any of my TBR fics, everything I read this week were updates to established starters or one-shots.

Truly Betty Updates This Week…

Strings IV Mood board

Bookstore (Frankie x f!Reader)

Drip (Joel Miller x Reader) warning: hints at events of TLOU2

Hangar (Frankie x f!Reader)

Fics I Enjoyed This Week…

The Locksmith Series by @oonajaeadira I wasn’t entirely sure what I was getting into reading a series based on the The Thief from the Casillero del Diablo adverts. But this was a whole lot more than I expected and was such a great read. I don’t want to spoil too much, but it has just the perfect combination of magic, romance, tension and plot. This was a very enjoyable lazy Sunday morning read.

Delta Landscaping - Chapter 2 + 3 by @rhoorl okay, chapter 2? Was not expecting to be getting so teary eyed in the first half and then snorting with laughter in the second. Then the bonus of a THIRD chapter before the week was out? Jess is spoiling us with the events of Mulefall Court 🫏. I don’t want to spoil chapter 3, but it is a riot and I am eagerly waiting to find out what happens next! 

The Layover - Chapter 11 by @goodwithcheese I’m in denial that there’s one chapter and an epilogue left on this. However, trust me when I say this series will lend itself to a reread once it’s done! Frankie and Reader are in some feels in this chapter and have some stuff to work through. But as ever Jules BBF extraordinaire and “get you laid” fairy godmother comes in with some wise words ♥️

Hungry Hearts - Chapter 5 by @atinylittlepain This is a permanent entry on my fics read/recommended list forever - I could wax lyrical about how Joel Miller is Springsteen coded. However, things are coming to a head here both in the summer of 86’ and in present day for Cherry and Joel. I think we’re in for a bumpy ride with the next updates but I’m looking forward to seeing how it plays out! You won’t be disappointed. 

Late Night Texts - Chapter 11 by @mvtthewmurdvck I had my worries about Javi & Reader as I made my way through this chapter and if this was a live action rom-com this would be the part where you shout at the TV because the happily ever after is just right there in sight only for it to be swiped away. But all is not lost because… I’m not going to give it away, go and read! 

Bloom by @nothoughtsjustmeds I very much dislike flowers, each to their own, but I simply don’t get the appeal. I appreciate them at a distance and think they’re pretty, but that’s where it ends for me. However, give me a flower shop trope and I am all over it will devour them all! (don't know what this says about me, lol) This one is no different and was actually a re-read when it popped up on my dash! Joel Miller is late, it’s Mother’s Day and he’s showing up in Readers store two minutes to closing in need of help and the rest… well, I’ll let you read it because it’s such a delight.

2023 Summer Kiss Prompt #11: Daniel Harper (Wing Pit) - A Kiss After Pain by @something-tofightfor Look. I’m not afraid to admit it, I’m feral for Daniel ‘Wing Pit’ Harper, and it’s because of @something-tofightfor’s fics. Go and read them and you’ll see what I mean. While you’re there go check out their Summer Kiss Prompt’s.

That's A Real Fucking Legacy: All of You, All of Me by @wyn-n-tonic If you haven’t read the series this wraps up, I suggest you do! Like, I could word vomit on this fic for days. However, this one-shot gives Joel & reader a tender ending that while it doesn’t fix everything, it gives life to a future for them both without guilt of the origins of their relationship. This was an unexpected treat on my dash this week and I encourage you to take a moment to read this series of you haven’t. 

Two Chances by @mrsquill A Joel Miller x Reader AU that has puppies, Joel and Sarah dynamics and did I mention puppies? It’s an adorable fluff piece that I hope we get to see a follow-up to!

Conversations With a Movie Star | Chapter 2 by @gnpwdrnwhiskey Hands down one of the best written Dieter's in my opinion and on top of that this is such an original idea of a story. Ava and Dieter play so well off one another and I can't wait to see how this is all going to play out. Also, I already love Desi and Lucy ❤️🦝

Fall Apart, Again | Chapter 3 by @wildemaven Okay, while on the topic of unique story ideas... this one right here! This, eurgh, I want to wrap this story in a blanket and give it a massive hug and tell it it'll be all okay. No secret I love me some good angsty fics, but there's a thin line you have to tread before it can dissolve into either a comedy of errors or just downright depressive verbage but Heidi, *chef's kiss* hits all the right notes with this story. Not going to get into much more as it is owed a reblog later today - but you cannot not get invested from the opening chapter.

March by @the-widow-miller I wasn't the only one this week in my Joel Miller feels - we both ended up posting our TLOU2 fics within days of one another and this one, eurgh, the whole thing cutting between present time and flashback and the ending? I'll let you get into this and get down deep in your Golfing feels.

Palomino | IX Warmblood by @fuckyeahdindjarin Going to admit it here, I am afraid of horses, I don't like them I think they're going to bite my hand off and yeah, so so pretty. But they frighten me. HOWEVER, this entire series has me wanting to go book a trek with the Statesmen, not only for my own Whiskey - but to witness the beautiful landscapes Cee has painted and weaved through this entire story. I also like how this ended, I'm not going to get into it because I don't want to spoil it - but if you've not read this series, you are in for a real treat!

Fics I’m Looking Forward to Reading…

Pulling from the gazillion tabs I have open that I need to move to a more formalized list that I’ll share next week if I get it done!

Shared Breaths by @frenchiereading So single dad Frankie is enrolling his daughter in your class and as the school year moves forward so does your relationship with Frankie… 

Posts I Enjoyed This Week…

This Dave York character analysis thread, some interesting takes on his character and how he’s portrayed in both the film and fandom. 

@rhoorl's dive into the Vanity Plates of the Delta Boys, it had me howling! Also peep the post on what cars each of the boys drive while you're there too!

Things I’ve (NOT) Enjoyed This Week…

My great idea to watch a play through of the second TLOU game (not posting spoilers) and play it while I worked. I’m an idiot. A highly emotional idiot. Also going to take @gnpwdrnwhiskey's advice to re-read the first two chapters of @oonajaeadira's Leave off Your Wandering to satisfy the head-canon I have that TLOU2 is all about Joel going to live his best life on an alpaca farm.

Things I’ve Enjoyed This Week…

All the lovely feedback I got on my dive into the Catfish pond with my Frankie fics that I was actually afraid to post, it's actually been a little overwhelming. Also the feedback on Drip, despite pulling everyone down onto the floor in my Joel Miller feels lol. Thank you all for your reblogs, comments & likes - it really means a lot ❤️

This Week’s Song…

This week it’s an album, Bruce Springsteen's Nebraska - @atinylittlepain mentioned this book, Deliver Me from Nowhere: The Making of Bruce Springsteen's Nebraska (which I can’t wait to get stuck into) and so I’ve been listening to this album on repeat since. 

It’s one of those albums that sticks out at from a time when I was younger where I was figuring out what I liked and not being afraid of offending others with my choices or worrying that they weren't what everyone else liked.

Other Weeks in Review I Think You Should Check Out...

@rhoorl's Week In Review (8/27/23)

If you've made it this far! Feel free to share your own recommendations or favourite things that have happened this week or what you've enjoyed! 💕

[kimdokjas]

I hope you're having a good weekend!

And no worries about being late, I just didn't want either of us to get in trouble for not doing asks for a week😂😭This is my first time doing this so idk how strict they are ykwim

So far I think the anime and manga for yuukoku no moriarty are really similar! i don't feel like anything was really left out. the manga does have some extra stuff, but i think the anime got some ova's or something, but i haven't been able to get my hands on them yet.

death note is a good anime though i think! there's a reason its a cliche😂yoi was good too, otabek definitely stole my heart though

i am actually fairly new to anime. like i've always been aware of it, i was (still am) a huge geek in public school, so i had heard about naruto and sailor moon back in the early 2010s, but i had no way of watching it myself. my partner is also really into anime, so i've been in the same room when they've watched things, but i didn't personally get into it until a little over a year ago! it was with boku no hero, so that's probably more cliche than death note at this point😂😭

The question for this week is a little more involved, you probably need time to think, so I'm definitely not expecting an answer any time soon. i'd rather you take your time and really think about it if you need to since this will probably heavily influence what i make for you and i want to make sure that you've picked something you really like

What are 5-7 quotes/poems/song lyrics/etc that make you feel ✨feral✨?

I hope you have a good, less hectic week, gaby! sending you positive vibes

-- Love,

Your ASS💖

hello my dear ASS 🥰 ahh sorry again for the late reply! work has been super hectic but thankfully the worst is now behind me! not to jinx it lol but i should have a bit more free time now. it's my first time participating as well so i'm not sure either but jic i'll try to reply a bit more quickly from now on!

oh i’m glad to hear the ynm anime is really similar to the manga! i was debating whether to read it first but i might start out watching the anime and then see how it goes. and right!! otabek is such a sweetheart, i love how at first he seems so stoic and closed off but he has a whole other side of him as well 🥺

oooh bnha is a great starter anime tho! it's one of the first ones i watched as well! same here tho, i've always been sort of aware of anime i just didn't get into it until fairly recently. aww that's sweet that your partner is into anime too! it's like a whole different world at first i think, so it definitely helps when someone you know is also really into it so you can navigate it together lol, so it's nice you can both share that! 💕

ahh that is SUCH a good question! so difficult to answer tho 😭 idk why but every time i try to think of quotes my mind blanks out and i forget every single piece of media in existence lmaoo but i tried my best

“I am. I want to be. I bleed away.” - Jorge Luis Borges (tr. Tony Barnstone), Music Box

"And the salt in my wounds isn't burning any more than it used to/ It's not that I don't feel the pain it's just I'm not afraid of hurting anymore” - Paramore, Last Hope

“In the end, we are all simply 'Outer Gods' to each other.” - Sing Shong (tr. RT & APW), Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint

“I think I could stand anything, any suffering, only to be able to say and to repeat to myself every moment, ‘I exist.’ In thousands of agonies – I exist. I’m tormented on the rack – but I exist! Though I sit alone in a pillar – I exist! I see the sun, and if I don’t see the sun, I know it’s there. And there’s a whole life in that, in knowing that the sun is there.” - Fyodor Dostoevsky (tr. Richard Pevear, Larissa Volokhonsky), The Brothers Karamazov

"The time for sleep is now/ But it's nothing to cry about/ 'Cause we'll hold each other soon/ In the blackest of rooms” - Death Cab for Cutie, I Will Follow You Into the Dark

“If you could only save me/ I'm drowning in the waters of my soul” - Imagine Dragons, Nothing Left to Say

"And what you hear is not silence/ It's just the trees waiting to hear what next you'll hum/ And what you see is not the dark/ It's just the gods upturning ink pots 'cause they know what you'll become" - The Amazing Devil, Inkpot Gods

"For I feared becoming a lonely lump of ashes/ After loving others with my whole being" - Ahn Do-hyun (tr. Jido Ahn), Lonely High Solitary

jsyk i’m resisting making commentary on every single one of these quotes sooo hard rn bc i’ll start frothing at the mouth lmaoo, i listed 8 tho sorry for cheating dslkjsf i just couldn’t cut any of these 😭 if you need more just lmk! i started out with like 15 and it was so hard to whittle down the list lol

tysm for your well wishes dear!! sending you positive vibes right back and i hope you’re having a nice relaxing weekend!! please remember to take care!! 🥰❤

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 13: ...O-OH?

it’s the night of the big stream. y/n uncovers a strange, albeit deep, bond with charlie. corpse interrupts her garden date with sykkuno quite unceremoniously. tensions are high as ever; proximity chat reveals internal monologues and stray thoughts. y/n’s “batshit insane” energy affects everyone. this is, quite literally, the best game of among us bretman has ever played.

─── corpse husband x reader, sykkuno x reader (if you squint, it’s very one sided)  ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 6.1k oops ─── ❥ reqs: sum people requested some interaction w bretman + jealous corpse + flirty sykkuno

author’s note: guys....GUYS WE’RE ON THE 3RD “OH” hope ur excited cus i am!!! this was rly fun to write, but then again, everything is better than writing an essay lmao! this is extremely chaotic and a bit seggsy but like a minuscule bit u wont even notice it i swear xx there’s not much social media in this one, mostly written lol. as always lmk wat u think n thank u for all ur kind words n sooo manyyyy ideassss!!! love u lots

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous. ҉   next.

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It’s happening, you think, picking the discreet, angelic white color for your astronaut - with a halo and all, truly, you are a seraph that stepped through the gates of heaven and descended onto earth to grace these morals with your presence...quite literally, you’re not only donning white in game, but also in real life, cute as a button or more like as a bunny. Cat girls are overrated - cat boys, on the other hand, you’ll ardently defend till your last breath - but bunny girls...Safe to say, your chat had been going feral. Your endless ego is fed well. You even swore on your heart that no devilish trickery would follow in this game - you had left your snake ways behind you.

No one believed you. The Roaches know you too fucking well.

The influx of new subs, however, do not. Look at this cute girl! She wouldn’t hurt a fly! You chuckle at the compliments. At the exact same moment, Rae pipes up on the discord call, “Y/n is leering and cackling evilly. No one trust her.”

Demon woman herself must be watching your stream before starting her own. You pout, all adorable and innocent, but your eyes gleam slyly. Truly, a mastermind of manipulation! Look at you go! The chat is swooning. The viewer number steadily climbs past 16K and you hum happily, welcoming all that decided to join your little clan, “Don’t listen to Rae. Wifey is mad because I said I’m not bringing her back a souvenir. Well guess what, bitch, I’m the gift.”

Your perfect image does not quite align with your tone, nor the affectionate nickname you call your roommate (bitch, not wifey). The new viewers are none the wiser though, just like your new stream mates.

There is laughter from people you don’t quite know. The lobby is almost full, but not everyone has trickled in yet.

“Filing divorce papers right now.” Rae mumbles, but you hear the smile in her voice. It makes you crack a grin, too. 

More hello’s and shy introductions to the people in the lobby. Sykkuno’s green astronaut pops in with a upbeat, “Hey, everyone! Hi, Y/n!” as his character circles around yours. A collective awww echoes in your stream chat as you, quite breathless at the wholesomeness, reply with a “Hi! Hi hi!” as well.

Corpse is next to join, mysteriously ominous. The discord call is pure chaos, everyone screaming over the other variations of his name while stressing different syllables. Silent as a grave, he just stands there, his black astronaut seemingly eyeing everyone in the lobby. 

Alas, when the noise dies down, he utters, “Whaddup, baby.” and it’s pandemonium all over again. You are screeching/laughing along with the rest. His astronaut swiftly glides to Sykkuno, still circling around you, “Hey, Sykkuno.” He says. The latter abruptly stops. The game hasn’t even started, and already - betrayal! Sykkuno starts circling around Corpse now, leaving you in the dust.

“Hey, dude!”

“Yo,” You interrupt, “I’m like here too, yeah?”

“Fight, fight, fight!” Pokimane jeers. You can’t see her, but you’re certain she’s pumping her fists in the air. 

“Let’s leave the bloodshed for the game, yeah?” Dream offers past her laugh ridden urging.

“No, fuck that, let’s start this shit right now,” Charlie declares - his monotone is strangely pleasant to the ear, and you lean back in your chair with a thoughtful hum. Something about his energy just clicks with yours instantly, but perhaps you’re judging too quickly- “Got my fucking knife ready to slit some throats. You can all pretend you aren’t ready to kill on sight, but that’s not me. I’ll teabag your dead fucking body.”

-yeah, no, your initial estimate had been correct! What a pleasant surprise, you feel like you and he will get along beautifully. 

“Way to be subtle, Charles.” Rae snorts.

“Subtle doesn’t make an interesting game, Rae,” He’s quick to bite back, “and if I’m Impostor, you bet your fucking ass I’m going after you first.”

“Noooooo!” She shrieks, rushing to your astronaut, which is still just standing there, abandoned, like the equivalent of that one emoji, “Y/n, protect me.”

“Of course, baby.” You purr. 

There’s mumbling in the discord call, though it’s barely audible. Corpse seems to be repeating the word to himself: Baby...Baby?...Baby...

“You’re gonna stab me in the back the first chance you get, won’t you?” She questions, already painfully aware of the answer.

“You know it!”

“Finally, someone that’s not fucking cowering in their boots and flaunting their real nature.” Charlie says, “Y/n, form a Big Dick Alliance with me.”

“Oh for sure, man.” You agree immediately, trailing to his in game figure, “Let’s show these virgins how it’s done.”

“This is going to be a mess, isn’t it?” Sean’s voice rings with a cheerful laugh, making you flustered. Yes, you’re actually playing with THE JacksepticeyeTM. You still haven’t fully wrapped your head around that part, “I’m very excited to see where this will go.”

“Nowhere good.” You say with unparalleled sincerity - every word you speak to him, the icon, the legend, the one of the few youtubers you actually actively follow, must be genuine. You doubt you can lie to him. He’s too good of a person. You admire him too much. Stuck between wanting to be a shady bitch and an absolute saint, you refrain from addressing him more - you are simply not worthy.

its the y/n trying to act like a normal person in front of jack for me

ikr she looks ready to join the monastery

each day we stray closer to gods light???

Your viewers are snide as always. Gosh, you love them.

The last player pops in, fashionably late, “Hey, y’all.”

“Hey, Bretman!” The call choruses somewhat harmoniously.

“Hi, daddy.” He’s speaking to Corpse now, a smile in his voice - you can hear it even past the static of his atrocious mic. Your eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up. Your friends are cackling, but confusion refrains you from doing the same - were you not the only one Corpse offered, seemingly so long ago!, to be his sugar baby? 

One betrayal after the other. You’re glad for the Big Dick Alliance. The name has a nice right to it, too. 

Corpse laughs, “...Hey, Bretman. How are you today?”

Damn, two sentences for him, but not even a word spoken to you!? You’re already scripting a very melodramatic paragraph you will text him after the stream. With poorly masked discontent, you mutter, “Wow, thanks for such a warm welcome, Corpse, my day’s going great, yeah, loving the company.”

“Now now miss girl,” Bretman chimes, “we can’t be all daddy’s favorite.”

“Careful,” Charlie drones, “I think you just got yourself onto Y/n’s shit list.”

“Right next to Corpse Husband and Valkyrae.” You agree, “Sykkuno!” You suddenly call him.

“Uhm-Uh-Yes?” Is his nervous reply.

“You’re safe.” You state coldly, “For now.”

“You are not going after Sykkuno on my watch.” It must be a belated holiday miracle because Corpse finally decides to address you. His words seem to awake something in him, “Hey-Hey-Hey-” He swiftly glides to you, standing right next to your minute virtuous angel, “When are you coming back to Cali?”

corpse stop acting weird challenge

literally omg lmao

he does bring up a good point y/n y u not in cali yet?!

^pack it up corpse simp he disrespected the queen when he didnt say hi

“Back off, buddy,” Charlie interjects, “this spot is for Big Dick Alliance members only.”

“I’m never returning.” You inform him, your voice cold like the Arctic snow, and the look in your eyes is no kinder. You feel like you’re having a stare down through screen. 

Silence stretches. Is this an intimidation tactic? Because if it is, it’s a paltry one. Your conviction to be petty is stronger than any vulnerability you might feel.

“Then I have nothing to say to you.” He admits and fucks right off with that. Fine, go join Sykkuno and Rae in their little corner of betrayal! Friendship ended with Corpse, now Charlie is your best friend.

“Okay, guys, guys, guys-” Toast, noting this is going to spiral any minute now, tries to catch their attention, “Let’s start?!”

You look into your camera, and the roaches know what you’re thinking. You’re twins like that, communicating telepathically. You are taking back your tender promise of not being a conniving bastard. It’s fucking on. You will destroy everyone in your path, starting with the guy you have a stupid crush on - maybe?! Feelings are confusing, you’d rather just not think point blank period.

With no objections from the cast, the counter ticks away seconds and, for the first round, you’re stuck as CREW MATE.

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Charlie is a gift. Truly, you had not expected such a sudden, wonderful relationship to bloom. How have you not known of him sooner?! It’s a crime that you hadn’t spoken to him earlier. You are a 100% certain if you had found him before you started streaming, he would’ve been a big inspiration. 

The two of you do your silly little tasks and curse like sailors, commenting about this and that thanks to proximity chat. You wouldn’t have been able to stand the claustrophobic silence if it was just a normal Among Us game - to think, missing out on all his foully worded quips! It almost springs a tear into your eye. He’s just as unhinged as you.

worried about this dynamic 

its a trainwreck lol i love it plz collab more plz

Caught in a headed discussion in Electrical - TikTok trends, or audios specifically - you defend the app the best you can. Charlie thinks it’s super cringe, and you insist it’s part of the charm as you connect wires.

“I mean, have...-do you know that one audio, the one that goes, like,” You’re spilling your words, heated, frustrated that he’s so dismissive of the app that literally saved 2020, “it goes like, uhm,” You clear your throat, prep your voice - even take a sip of your favorite drink. Drawing the syllables, you try your best to make it drop an octave - it must sound like you’re doing an atrociously bad and nauseatingly scratchy Corpse impression with an extra dramatic flair, “My assssssss, your cockkk, you do the mathhh.”

“Did-Did I just-” You freeze hearing Corpse’s voice, finally done with your task. Charlie is muffling his laughter behind his palm; Corpse’s astronaut stands in the doorway, “What the fuck did I just walk into?” He seems genuinely confused, though a strangely winded. You’re mortified. Your shoulders are shaking. You look at the stream chat but it’s going too fast for you to follow. Manic laughter bubbles in your chest and you squeeze your eyes shut, mouth split into a toothy grin, lowering your head and trying to hide the blush dusting your cheeks.

“Hey? Guys? What the fuck are you talking about?” He questions again.

“Honestly?” Charlie chimes, “No fucking clue. TikTok, I think. Ask Y/n.”

You can’t reply. You’re crying. You cover your face with your palms, muttering a soft oh my god before bursting into a full blow laugh, throwing your head back, the motion accidentally knocking your headphones off.

“Y/n.” Corpse calls you, “Fuck was that?”

You’re howling. Your stomach hurts. There are literal tears in your eyes. You think Charlie might be laughing too, but you can’t really tell over your loud screeching. Hastily fixing your headphones, you wipe away the tears stuck to your lower lashes, heaving, “S-Sorry, I-” You stutter, breaking into another fit of giggles. Corpse patiently waits you to calm down. Catching your breath, you start again with a sniffle, “TikTok, yeah.” You idly fix your hair, trying to bite down a smile, “It’s an audio.”

“What- What kind of videos are you watching?”

“The good kind.” Your reply is instant, merciless, “Also, why are you here? We’re having a BDA meeting, you know.”

“I-I...” He trails off, “I...I heard people talking and...I just came here to check it out, but...I’m regretting it.” There’s a lilt in his voice, and you know he doesn’t regret jack shit. You bet he’s smiling. You wish you could see it.

“Bitch, then leave!” You huff. You aren’t sure what is with him today, and you don’t want to stick around and find out - his playfulness makes your stomach flip at the most inappropriate times! Like when you’re trying to sound threatening. You must retreat posthaste, “No, wait, I’ll do it for you.” You say, brushing past his character. Charlie follows after you.

“Dude, you’re so fucking lucky neither of us are the Impostor because you’d be deader than I’ve been feeling since I was 10.” Your favorite companion comments. Charlie is truly a modern wordsmith. You’re pretty sure you adore him, because you’re nodding your head, so quick to agree with him that even you’re surprised. 

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A meeting is called. You spare a glance at your fallen crew mates. They will be missed. Sean most of all, God, why does heaven always take the good ones?! The game feels emptier without him, even if you really only passed him once on your trek to Cafeteria with Charlie.

You may or may not have been avoiding him, afraid you’d accidentally say something horrible and he would hate you. It’s a silly fear, though a deep one. And with Charlie keeping you company, you had not uttered a single objectively  good, or even coherent, sentence. Your parents can’t watch this stream once it’s uploaded onto your Youtube channel. They know you’re barely keeping it together in most of your videos, but here, now? Yeah, no. Charlie is already hard to listen to on his own for sensitive viewers, and hearing you agree with literally everything he says with your own chaotic ideas? Your dad would stumble into an early grave.

Mom probably wouldn’t mind too much, but you’d have to explain your relationship status again. She is under the assumption that everyone you collab with is your significant other. You’d say it began with Sykkuno, though the exclamation of “Finally! My daughter isn’t pathetically single! We need to celebrate.” had started with Rae. Truly, a scandal.

Speaking of which, Sykkuno is gone, too, but you had time to mourn him already. You found his body roughly ten minutes ago; so torn with the fresh agony of heartbreak, you could not do anything else but cry. It was Charlie, bless his heart, that reported it.

“Someone killed Jack,” You say, voice dripping with venom, “court is now in session. I’m ready to vote the fucker out.”

People speak all at once. Toast roars over them, “ORDER! ODER IN COURT!” as he slams his hand onto his desk repeatedly. That seems to work, though briefly.

“I think it’s Y/n.” Corpse says. You stare at him, hand gripping your heart, mouth falling open in surprise.

flame him

corpse boutta be a corpse fr

beat his ass queen!!!!!

“Pardon my french,” You grumble, “but nani the fuck?!”

“It’s definitely Y/n, I found her and Charlie conspiring in Electrical. Surrealist experience of my fucking life, but it’s definitely her.”

“Dude, we’ve been over this,” Charlie sighs, shushing Rae who was about to comment something - knowing your luck, it was probably in favor of the man throwing you under the bus, “we would’ve snapped your fucking neck the moment you walked in. But we didn’t.”

“Yeah, we didn’t.” Corpse notes, “I said nothing about you, I’m just saying it’s definitely her. She probably didn’t kill in front of you because of your stupid alliance-”

“Someone sounds salty because he wasn’t invited.” Pokimane snickers.

“-or possibly she did tell you and you won’t betray her for the exact same reason.”

“That’s some big brain logic you pulled there, genius,” Charlie says, absolutely unimpressed, “sure you didn’t have an aneurysm trying to connect all of that together?”

“Well,” Rae pipes up, “Y/n and Charlie did say they will kill right before the game started. If you ask me, it’s not unbelievable. And Sykkuno was sorta on the shit list.”

“I’m writing down your name twice, Rachell.” You spit.

“Not helping your case at all, Y/n...” Dream worries, “And Rae makes a good point. Charlie and you have professed desire for murder. I’m just saying! It’s a bit suspicious, you know?”

The next words to leave Corpse’s lips sound incredibly smug, “See?” He drawls.  The pressure is getting to you - you don’t understand where this beguiling talent of his to convince literally everyone comes from, but it doesn’t inspire any confidence. Your fist suddenly feels incredibly lonely, so useless - oh, how you long to swing at him, “It’s definitely Y/n.”

“I dunno...” Toast mumbles.

“It’s Y/n.”

“Corpse-” You try, but he's ignoring you - shocker, as if he hadn’t been doing that from the very start of this stupid game - and chanting your name like it’s a fucking mantra or something, a smile in his voice, knowing, relishing in the fact that he’s grating on your nerves, “FIRST OF ALL,” You scream into the mic, successfully cutting him off; catching your breath, you exhale, and continue, calmly, lowly,  “get my pretty name out of your mouth.” 

There’s a pause full of tense silence. 

Then, there’s a sound, seemingly stuck in the back of his throat, “...O-Oh...?”

“Second of all,” You continue, words like honey dipped in arsenic, “This is the clearest smear campaign I have ever witnessed. By how hard you’re trying to frame me for fuck knows what reason, I’m led to believe it’s you that killed them. You’re the Impostor.”

“Corpse wouldn’t kill Sykkuno, though.” Rae comments, skeptical.

“Then the other Impostor did it.” You counter.

“Maybe you’re both Impostors.” Pokimane chirps.

“Y/n would never betray the Big Dick Alliance like that.” Charlie states.

You grin, “Charlie, I literally love you.” 

“Wait hold up now,” Corpse seems to get his bearings together, “what’s this about love I’m hearing?”

“I have none for you, dick.” You snap, flipping him off. Your chat cheers. While he can’t see it, you hope he senses it through the screen, “I officially hate you.”

“No, wait-”

“Boo, Corpse, you suck.” Toast laughs.

“Y/n, please-”

“Let’s all vote for Corpse Husband, okay?” You say it like it’s his full official name with an encouraging smile and multiple soft nods. Sykkuno can’t be here to nod, so you’ll do it for him. You eye the rapidly decreasing timer before clicking on Corpse’s figure and voting for him. The VOTED icon instantly pops up beside your adorable astronaut.

“Baby, I-” It slips past his lips so easily, as if he’s not even thinking about it, like it’s only natural to call you that and a spike of anxiety shoots up, making you glare. It’s only halfhearted. You try your best to ignore the rapid and uncoordinated pulses of your heart. Replace unwanted feelings with anger and hate - works like a charm, every time.

“You are not allowed to call me that.” You hiss. The chat spams snake emojis. 

“Wait-” Bretman chimes, “Hold up, y’all, slow down a minute. Why does Corpse never call me baby?”

“Yeah!” Pokimane agrees, “I want to be baby, too!”

Pokimane may not have been called baby, but you just single-handedly decided her nickname for her - Target 4. Welcome to the shit list, she is officially your public enemy number 1. You aren’t sure why the thought of Corpse ever referring to anyone else as baby makes you sick to your stomach (you actually do know why, but brain no think at the moment), but you wish this whole conversation never happened. You don’t like it.

20 seconds left. More VOTED icons appear by your friends. Corpse is the last one to cast his ballot at, you assume, you, as the rest wait for his quick explanation before everyone (or not) returns to the game, “...Because she’s my baby.”

Goodbye. Life had been sweet, and there was sorrow, though the amount of embarrassment you feel now is worse than when the internet found your cringe worthy high school pictures on your mom’s Facebook. It’s a mixture of dread and excitement - the pleasure of being noticed, cherished even, though anxious from vulnerability. Someone is screaming a very prolonged “WHAAAAT?!”, or maybe multiple people are, you aren’t sure, your ears start to hurt from the loud, conflicting cacophony of voices as you stare blankly at the screen. You received two votes, just like Corpse, Charlie got one, the rest skipped. With no one flung out, you all find yourself back in Cafeteria again.

Baby. My baby? My baby. My baby. The sentence is playing ping-pong in your mind, reverberating louder each time. You’re actually speechless for the first time in your life; your chest hurts, your heart beating so fast your hands start shaking. Had he meant it? Or was this a some joke? Was he trying to get a rise out of you again? You might just go insane from so many questions. My baby. Holy shit, this is a heart attack, this is what a heart attack feels like, dear God, you figured you at least had ten years before you get one!

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First round ends with IMPOSTORS raining victorious. Your sixth sense had been working wonders since, true to you previous estimate, it had been Corpse. His companion was Pokimane. For absolutely no reason what’s so ever, you change her name once more from Target 4 to Target 1. Normally, you’re all for girls supporting girls. Men don’t deserve anything, really, but now you’re so flustered and still reeling from what you are 80% sure was cardiac arrest that you genuinely don’t care about your established morals.

Round two starts without much deliberation. You get CREW MATE again; the game must sense your growing bloodlust, making sure that once you do get IMPOSTOR, you will not hold back. True power is granted to those who are ready and strong enough to wield it. You wait for your moment with bated breath.

Charlie is taken from you too early. The two of you were once again caught in a discussion - God knows about what, Minecraft, hentai, oh! your server! - as you tried to card swipe for the umpteenth time. The lights blew out and you just knew one of you was getting murdered there and then. Charlie’s voice abruptly cut off, and you think a part of you died with him.

It’s a cold meeting; with your new best friend being the first to go, everyone decides to skip. You proclaim you seek vengeance. When the meeting comes to an end, Sykkuno is the first to offer his condolences.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” He says, and while he’s not in Brooklyn, you somehow feel him patting your back. You feign a sniffle.

“There’s nothing to apologize for...” You murmur sadly, “Unless...” Your voice turns sharp as the knife that was surely twisted into Charlie’s back, “It was you?”

“NO!” He exclaims, “I would never-you gotta believe me! I would never kill him. I know he’s important to you. I wouldn’t do that, I swear.”

“He was like a brother to me.” You admit, solemn, “Charlie, if you’re haunting me right now, know I will avenge you. I will not let this go.”

Sykkuno hums, circling around you, “Hey, I have a task in Greenhouse. Would you, uh--Would like to, uhm, join me?” Despite the shaky start, he finishes on a firm, pleasant note. He’s trying to cheer you up. Having lost your closest friend, he’s offering you his company. You accept with a soft smile and a cute “Yes, please!” and he releases an airy little laugh. The two of you make your way to your favorite place in map MIRA.

It’s difficult to stay sad for long when Sykkuno’s so sweet; the atmosphere of the Greenhouse is strangely calming; your problems seem to be left behind the shut doors. If you tried hard enough, you could imagine being in an actual Greenhouse - the warm, damp air clinging to your skin, the unmistakable smell of earth and vegetation, the pleasant silence broken only by yours and his hushed voices and clumsy footsteps.

The two of you are talking. Mainly about your choice of attire. Cat first, Sykkuno ponders aloud, doing his task as you watch the plants grow, now bunny, what’s next? You affirm that you will most likely dress up in cow-print next, or as an adorable sheep. He laughs, admitting you’ll look good in anything before he trails off. His awkwardness is really endearing. 

“Or!” You chirp happily, content with being locked away with him for the whole game. The idea must be playing in his mind, too, because he seems in no rush to leave, “I could, like, dress as someone from My Hero Academia. I watched the stream you did with Stella, the one where she made you look like Todoroki. It was really cute. You were really cute.”

“Oh, uhm-well, uh, thank you, thanks, I, uhm-” He clears his throat, and despite his stutter, you hear the smile in his voice, “I-I think you’d look better, though. Not as Todoroki. Or, probably as Todoroki, too. But, uhm, what character are you thinking about?”

“Maybe Momo?”

“Momo!” He yeps, “Momo is good. Yeah, she’s great. You’ll-uhm-you’ll look amazing. Really. Momo is awesome. Very pretty. Just like you.”

You are blushing. A stupid, toothy grin makes your cheeks hurt. Your eyes flicker to the chat, but again, it’s going wild. Giggling, you thank him for his sweet words, so giddy it’s honestly embarrassing. Why can’t you stop smiling? This is incriminating. You hide your lips behind your palm.

“...What’s this?” Corpse question. You had failed to note his sudden appearance, too busy gushing. “Am I interrupting?”

“Hey, Corpse!” Sykkuno greets. For someone so awkward and shy, he sure is good at hiding it when he wants to. Perhaps it’s all an act and you had been deviously tricked! Probably not, but you can’t help but narrow your eyes suspiciously, finally able to calm down. You definitely underestimated him, you just haven’t figured out how yet, “Not really! Y/n was sad Charlie died so I took her here.”

“You interrupted our date, dipshit.” You deadpan. 

“...Fuck you say?” Corpse dares, his voice low and somewhat menacing - for someone who exclusively portrays his emotions through only his voice, he’s incredibly hard to read. This is payback. Your love for wreaking havoc resurfaces suddenly. Serves him right for pulling all this ignoring shit at the start. Maybe you’ll make him say oh again.

Your sly smirk is promptly wiped. Fuck. He said oh, he literally said oh out loud. The Teruhashi fangirl in you is screaming. You had been so caught up in defending yourself you didn’t even register it at first. Alarmed, you look at the camera, then at the chat. First oh, then my baby. There’s no way he had been teasing you, and this proves it. Holy shit. You mouth the words “HE SAID OH!” for your audience only.

now she notices

snail pace baby we’ve been loosing our shit for the past hour 

corpse x y/n saikik au enemies to lovers 500k words slow burn im here for it

opening wattpad rn^

Your heart races in your chest - it might be considered an Olympic medalist at this point; flustered yet again, you wish you could cave into yourself. You should’ve brought your bright blue wig with you to Brooklyn. Turns out it would have been perfect for this stream. Yes, yes thinking about unnecessary details always works in distracting you from the butterflies throwing a fucking rave in your stomach. 

“I guess it is a date!” Sykkuno admits, “Kinda after a funeral, but still.”

Corpse hums. You’re still too stunned to say anything. The black astronaut with adorable cat ears approaches Sykkuno. 

“It’s not.” He states. Your mouth falls open in shock as your date, your companion, the Shoto to your Momo is murdered in cold blood right in front of you. His lifeless body, cut in half, lays on the tiles by the growing flowers, right beside you, “You didn’t see shit.”

“...I didn’t see shit.” Is all you can utter, breathless and terrified.

“Thaaaat’s fucking right, baby.” Corpse coos, “Now I’m gonna report it, and I’ll say we found Sykkuno together. Better stick close to me after the meeting, got it?”

If Sykkuno is Shoto, then Corpse is definitely Dabi. 

why is that kinda hot tho omg

didn’t know i needed dom corpse since now but i do

y/n looks like shes boutta throw up lmao 

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You follow him around like a lost puppy - because what else is left for you to do!? You’re helpless in this situation. He’s got you in the palm of his hand, successfully eliminating everyone you had previously interacted with. First it was Charlie, then Sykkuno, even Sean, who said hello in passing, was shot instantly. Real Sangwoo behavior. You almost want to scream warnings at everyone to not approach you. You cannot mourn another lost crew mate, you don’t think your conscience can take it. But words fail to form. You’re too weak. You fake cry to your audience. They’re quick to remind you to stop acting like a little bitch.

“Mean.” Is all you say, eyeing the comments.

“Hm?”

“Was talking to the roaches.”

“What are they saying?”

“That I should betray you.”

“...Better not.”

A shiver shoots up your spine and you half believe he will bust down your door and drag you into his basement for real. A nervous laugh slips past your lips, “I won’t, I won’t.” You reassure him, “Don’t worry, I’m sticking with you. I haven’t seen shit.”

“I like that you listen to me. You always this agreeable?”

“You’re kinda not giving me a choice right now.” You grumble, vending yourself a drink while he looms behind you, protecting you. From who?! Himself?!

“Oh my fucking God, finally,” Bretman exclaims, “girl, I’ve been running around the whole map trynna find someone, is everyone like, dead?”

You’re scared to reply. Corpse does it for you, “Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, maybe? Not sure. Where have you been?”

“Oh you know,” Bretman grins, “doing tasks, talking shit, the usual. You two are not, like, Impostors right?”

You shoot a look at Corpse, but he obviously can’t see it. Biting your lip, you murmur, “Nope.”

“Just your regular crew mates doing regular crew mate things.” Corpse says, no, purrs. Because that’s not suspicious at all. You’d recommend Bretman to run, and not only because that sounded shady as fuck. But he seems to enjoy danger, or he just doesn’t care.

“Hmmmm, crew mates, sure. Miss girl Y/n,” He’s addressing you now; you smile anxiously, “How come every time I see you, you’re with a different man?! Like damn, leave some for the rest of us, for real!”

You like Bretman. You like his high-pitched whine and drawl. You would like him even more if not for the complex situation at hand. You fear for his life. Chewing at your bottom lip, you snicker, “Sorry, Bret. I can leave you Corpse if you want?”

He laughs, “Girl, I’d say yes so fucking quick, but I know he wouldn’t want that. Normally I wouldn’t care, but y’all are such a cute couple it’s making me not want to be a shady motherfucking bitch. Changing my ways, embracing the lord. Love it.”

 Corpse doesn’t correct him that you are, in fact, not dating. His lack of reaction unnerves you slightly. Does he...? No! No think! Only exist! You catch that train of thought and steer it away from forbidden territory. Looks like it’s up to you to clear the air, and that is exactly what you do after trying to swallow down the lump in your throat, “Uh, we’re not together, actually. We’re just really good friends.”

“Bitch, then move over,” Bretman says snappily,”go like, back to your other boyfriends. Or find another one. I think I saw Dream near Navigation.”

“Near Navigation, huh?” Corpse hums thoughtfully. It’s a subtle warning, but you catch it. Yeah, even if you try running, Dream’s going to join your other ‘boyfriends’ in the afterlife. Granted, killing someone by just talking with them is kind of cool. Or maybe Stockholm Syndrome is finally kicking in, “Bret, the thing is, Y/n’s scared of dying, so she asked me to stay with her.”

It’s disturbing how good at lying he is. It is also really really attractive, as bizarre as that is.

y/n stop being in a toxic relationship with corpse challenge

making fanart of this omg her face

its the blushing for me girl get your head outta the gutter!

^she cant, it lives there

“Baby, you’re gonna fucking die if you stick with her,” Bretman points out, “have you noticed the mortality rate of her partners? Rest in peace, daddy.”

“He’s right, you know.” You mutter, dramatically looking to the side, “I’m no good, Corpse.”

“Not leaving you, end of discussion. Bretman, join us?” Corpse offers, catching you by surprise. He might still be lying, though. Creating a false sense of security before eliminating Bretman. Probably would laugh while doing it, too. Wow, he truly is evil.

Turns out he doesn’t have to do any of that, because when Dream strolls into Cafeteria, he kills Bretman instead. The two Impostors are finally revealed. You promised not to snitch on Corpse, but you didn’t say shit about not exposing Dream. You press the REPORT button and say just that: “Dream just murdered Bret right in front of me and Corpse.”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

The last meeting is called. Dream had been voted out with the help of Corpse, and now only you, he, and Rae remain.

“Baby, you know what to do.”

The VOTED icon pops up beside Corpse’s astronaut. Rae wheezes, “No! Y/n, it’s not me, you gotta believe me, I swear it’s not me!”

“...I really don’t know,” You murmur, “I’ve been with Corpse a lot, and...Rae, I’m not sure...”

“Please! I swear it on my Kagayama cardboard cut out, I’m not the Impostor, please! You know me, I’d never lie to you like this.”

“She’s definitely lying.” Corpse says, sounding pleased.

“Don’t listen to him! Remember, during the first round, when he tried to convince us that you were the Impostor? He’s doing the same shit to me!”

“I also remember you agreeing with him.” You remind her.

“I was stupid! Small dumb brain moment! He was using us to win! He’s using you right now!” She votes, “Please, Y/n, make the right choice.”

You’re silent for a moment.

“I’m gonna...I’m gonna vote for who I think it is.” You lastly say.

A slow, lazy grin makes it’s way onto your lips, eyes gleaming mischievously. You had not forgotten your promise to your brother from another mother, you had not forgotten the pride of the BDA, you had not forgotten your beautiful friendship. Two miniature astronauts pop up by Corpse’s at the exact moment Rae screeches “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!”

“Fuck.” Is all Corpse says with a laugh.

The screen changes, informing of the first CREW MATE victory.

Your ears are assaulted with different voices as you appear in the lobby.

“Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about.” Charlie raves, “I swear to fucking God, Y/n, you even got me going for a second. Pulled some 1000 IQ shit right there. It was fucking amazing. Best back stabbing I’ve seen in a while, and I’ve seen a lot.”

“That was absolutely fantastic, Y/n.” Sean applauds, “I really thought you joined Corpse like some crew mate accomplice or something. Can’t believe you switched on him at the last second.”

“That’s my wifey!” Rae cheers, strolling to you, “Love you, mwah.”

“Hey, Corpse,” Charlie calls him, “How does it feel to be a fucking loser?”

“I’m surprisingly fine with it.”

yeah he would be lmao

mom is the best snake ever i love you sm y/n

rae and y/n’s friendship....the feeeeeels

As the rest sing your praises for another solid minute or two, the third round begins. CREW MATE again. Though, just because you’re stuck as an underpaid worker in a dying spaceship, it doesn’t mean you’re innocent. Your last round proved that quite well. You can’t help but silently snicker.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury--moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[littlefreya]

The Devil’s Tongue

Summary: A mask of virtue hides a man riddled with lust and while his stoicism proceeds him, even he can’t withstand a begging girl. 

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x OFC (3rd person POV)

Warning: 18+. Manhandling, abuse of power, MaleDom/FemSub, some thigh riding, unprotected sex, deflowering, loss of virginity, mild mentions of blood, sex in front of mirror (auto-voyeurism), profanities, bodily fluids, possessive behaviour. 

Words: 4.5k

A/N: Many thanks to my muse @agniavateira for supporting me through this story and for betaing. This was inspired by a certain scene in the film. My pervy mind took it elsewhere. Sincerely, I am not sure how I feel about it, so I’ll let you be the judge while I’m having my panic attack. 

Please reblog and give feedback if you enjoyed. 🖤

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own*

Title: The Devil’s Tongue

The treacherous moon was already high in the midnight sky and winds of melancholia whispered through the ivy leaves that grew timidly around the window’s panes. Despite the solace of night, her blood seeped with venom, and vicious thorns grew beneath her skin.

Striding through the desolate corridors of Holmes’ estate, Vanessa fumed while listening to the sounds of the old house: the creaking of the floorboards, the glass panes rattling in the wind, and the scratching of mice that ran between the walls. A kerosene lamp hung heavy between her sweaty fingers; her knees cracked as she marched forward to face her master.

Same as every night, Sherlock hid in his library to chase adventures behind thin sheets of paper. He was not to be disturbed, though he left her no choice.

Sent her away he did, claiming that her service was no longer needed even though she was promised a home at the estate, despite Enola’s departure. The worst of it was that he didn’t even bother telling her himself, but simply sent another servant to announce that she must pack her belongings tonight.

‘Like hell, I would!’

Vanessa willed her heart to beat slowly as she tiptoed, cursing every wooden plank that grated beneath her feet. It’s been over a year since she started working for the Holmes family, and despite battling her concupiscence tooth and nail, Mr. Holmes has possessed her very existence. Sleepless nights left her yearning to drink the mead of his mouth and feel the slapping of his skin onto hers.

Wistfully, the brooding detective only stared at her with a lustre of ice. But the notion of never seeing him again felt like holding a blade pointed to her chest; the wish to confess nibbled in her gut like a pesky little fish.

‘At least I will have the chance to say farewell…’ she mused as she finally reached the open doorway of the library. It was a cosy cavern, stuffed with endless shelves of books and vases of pink roses to mellow its austerity.

Wood burnt to a crisp within the hearth, its aromatic scent bleeding into the air and a light layer of ashen mist wafted over the chamber. There sat her master, resting comfortably on his maroon leather armchair with a book in one hand and a pipe pressed between his succulent lips like a king on a throne of solitude.

Silently she stared, brow furrowing at his sight. It baffled her how a man can be so oblivious to the dangerous power he had over women. Sherlock was as divine as the coldest day of winter: eyes of crystal snow, curls darker than the night, and sharp facial features that gave a tinge of intimidating flavour. The ancient god Hades would have been jealous of his divinity. Even in these serene moments, Sherlock’s presence exhumed dominant masculinity, consuming oxygen like the fire that burnt in the mantle.

Clad in a white cotton shirt loose over his broad chest, he calmly turned a page on his book and sighed.

It was impossible not to sense her nearby. The young woman was a breeze of autumn wind: spiced yet soothing, bringing the omen of a season’s change. She tried very hard to hide her feral nature, abiding, serving, and acting polite. While she fooled everyone, including herself, he detected the brazen kiss that raged within her.

Nights were riddled by dreams of dismantling her shackles, only to bind her further to himself. And yet, every time he looked at her a loathing rage gnawed inside. To him, she was a dire trap meant to expose the thing that hid behind his mask of virtue—a reckless savage, sick with twisted desire.

It took true power to send her away. Yet, here she was, barging into his shelter to pour another drop of simmering turmoil into his already seething blood.

“Can’t sleep, Nessie?”

Vanessa jolted with a startle. His deep voice threaded tendrils of dark silk around her heart, attempting to draw it further out of her fragile ribcage. Maintaining attention on the book in his hand, Sherlock’s mouth twitched into a cold grin of respect, sensing her glare stabbing at his nape.

“You might be a mouse, but you have the stomp of an elephant.”

Forcing the book shut with a soft thud, Sherlock turned his head aside, daring to catch a glimpse of her. His pretentious smile died, and a surge of passion seized at his groin. Like the virgin Persephone, she stood before him wrapped in a sheer nightgown, the creamy fabric barely hiding her delicacies. A mystic glow of sweet honey and amber gold rimmed her flesh, kissing down her clavicles and leading his enslaved gaze to the soft heaps at her chest.

By courtesy, he should have looked away, but the wish to incinerate the silken threads that retained whatever left of her modesty whispered in his ear like a little devil that sat on his shoulder. It was cruel of her to provoke him like this.

Quirking an eyebrow with disdain, he finally battled the sight away.

“Something ails you, girl.” Sherlock’s rich baritone dropped. Touching the pipe to his maw, he took a long whiff and suckled his lip. “You seem unnecessarily emotional,” he noted dryly, pretending as if her appearance was a mystery.

Noticing the uncaring shift in his tone, she scowled and stepped carefully into the room. Placing the lamp on a nearby stand, she purposely stepped into his line of sight and looked at the frowning detective with the feral wilderness growing inside her chest.

“You’re sending me away tomorrow,” an unmistakable hint of rage seeped between the cracks in her voice. Grasping her knuckles, she began striding back and forth across the Parisian rug as if lost in her own musings, “why? What have I done to you?”

A small huff escaped his nose, and he rubbed a finger beneath his bottom lip. His patience spread thin as the young lady scurried about with hysteria. The mere idea of bending her over and teaching her some discipline caused the fabric of his trousers to stretch over his engorging desire.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, it was simply my decision.” He answered, striving to sound neutral and remorseless. “A lady’s maid without a lady is useless in a place like this. But now, Vanessa, it’s late, and I’d like to get back to my book. No reason for you to stand here in your... undergarments.”  

Lips agape and feet nearly colliding on to one another, Vanessa paused on her steps. His words crept a chill down the length of her spine, making her cheeks blaze. Passionate and irrational, she never even noticed her lack of chastity when she left her room.

“I… didn’t think much, I was upset…”

‘Of course, she didn’t think much. Irrational, savage thing.’

A string twitched in Sherlock’s cheek, and a dark errant lock fell rogue upon his pale temple as he turned his head aside, adamant to brush her away. His self-restraint was but a delicate, dying leaf, hanging by its last yellowing strand.

“I came here to ask you to…”

“I’m afraid it’s not negotiable.” Sherlock interrupted and swatted his hand flat on the leather binding. His stern glance floated out the window, focusing on a large spider that threaded lines of silver amidst the peeling frames. “You will find a new job in London, a better house,” he apprised and took a deep inhale, turning the book over to open it where he paused. “Now please leave before we’ll both hurt one another.”

‘Before I will pierce cavities in your soft flesh.’

Stunned by his dismissive, arctic demeanour, her stubbornness and frustration only grew to monstrous proportions. With clenched fists and water pooling at her lids, she grunted and took a courageous step closer, standing at the fore of his couch while shaking her head.

“No!”

“No!?” he scowled, eyebrows lowering with dismay. “You forget your place, woman.” He flashed her a quick warning look, his icy glare tinted midnight black as he stood at his wit’s end.

If only it didn’t make her heart shrivel with wanton. Their proximity perilously close, Sherlock’s strong scent pervaded into her lungs: a musky blend of whiskey, leather, and fine tobacco that made her thighs wobble. Before she could even register what’s happening, her knees were brushing the thick carpet, her decorum and dignity gone.

“I want to stay here. With you.”  Slender like stalking vines, her fingers crawled onto the armchair, squeezing at the smooth leather with pitiable desperation.

“Keep me, please!”

“Vanessa,” Sherlock drawled, still refusing to meet her gaze while his thumb circled deep into the coarse binding. Furious tides rose in his eyes, whisked by the rageful storm that inhabited his mind, “Do not make me regret this night.”

He didn’t want to hurt her, but she was pretty when she begged.

“You don’t know what it is that you’re asking, I am not the gentleman you think I am.”

Ignoring his warning, she insisted. Daring, needy talons rose from the armchair to claw at his arm, clutching it with demand. Even through barriers, a surge flushed between their bodies.

“Sherlock,” she half-whispered, crystal droplets of sadness gliding down the smooth slope of her cheeks. Not caring the least as they dribbled onto the soft sleeve of his shirt, leaving tiny stains that dampened his arm.

“Guide me, teach me, make me yours!”

Nostrils flaring and breath rigid, the large man finally snapped his stare at her with the sanguine hunger of a starved vampire. The mask of his virtue fell shattering to the floor, and a harrowing silence took over the room, diffused only by the sound of crackling embers and Vanessa’s shaky breath.

“Remember this tomorrow when you’re raw and hurting; this is what your begging bought you, little Nessie.”

A strangled gasp died at her sternum as his hand suddenly grasped her throat. With a quick yank, she was up on her feet, her toes barely scraping the ground as the hulking man held her up to his face.

“Oh the things I’ll do to you..” he whispered as his thumb dug deep onto her cheek and the rest of his fingers etched at her throat.

Swinging on his boots, he swept her across the silent halls. His stride a dark ceremonial gyrate, the creamy fabric of her pristine nightgown floating mid-air like a sheer tongue of white morning mist.  

“I will make you mine as you begged,” he rasped barbarically, one hand pushing the door open while the other held her attached to his chest, “I will teach you what you asked…” his lips brushed her ear, his breath hot over her cheek, “your first lesson begins... in my bed.”

With a swift shove, she was forced into his realm. Feet stumbling upon the tepid wooden floor, her ears throbbed with shock. Her hands reached to grasp onto the engraved bed column to prevent herself from falling.

His bedroom smelled of dying roses and smoked wicks, echoing the putrid decadence that gnawed at Sherlock’s mind. A dozen melting candles burned in every secluded corner, their little orange tongues licking the reflection of a sizable mirror that stood opposite of his large bed.

A dull metallic click broke the air, followed by Vanessa’s sputtering breath as she saw him lock the door. Her faith sealed - now caged in the lair of the beast. Reduced to his own shimmering shadow, Sherlock advanced toward her, ripping his shirt off.

Fingers biting into the wooden pole, Vanessa stared, unable to determine if it was a man or a lycan god who stood before her. Every breath made his bare torso look menacing. Under the deep dusky twilight, his muscles curved and stretched, coated by a virile, dark fur.

Curious, her gaze followed the striking veins and the trail of unkempt hair that paved its way down his fine abdomen and disappeared beneath his trousers. Guiding to that which she feared and wanted at once.

Eyes of blue flame shone with absent remorse, brows arched with a pretentious demeanour as he reached a hand to seize her to him. “Your innocence dies here tonight,” he hissed in her ear, “from now on, you’ll be my little whore to plough as I please.”

The air died in her lungs as his firm chest collided with hers and his knee forced her legs apart. Bulging and muscular, his thigh rose to brush at her clit, the thin fabrics a shy barrier.

Shuddering, she swallowed hard in a dire battle to find her voice. “I will be whatever you need me to be,” she retorted as the thought of being exploited by her master released fluttering butterflies of fear and excitement in her chest.

Sherlock smirked and captured her jaw between his finger and thumb as he leaned in. Torrid lips hovered over her own, offering a phantom kiss to distract her from the greedy fingers that pushed the sleeves of the gown off her shoulders.

Like warm milk it poured down her body, exposing her delicacies to the night and to the gluttonous hands that kneaded her breasts while he flicked his tongue over her closed mouth, tasting the plumpness of her lips.

A true creature of the underworld, Sherlock’s touch was cruel like his promises; he took as he pleased, leaving his sigil seething on her skin. Her sputtering gasps served as an opportunity to invade her hot cavern. The detective’s kiss was even more ruthless, his tongue smooth as silk seized and conquered her breath.

She could feel him streaming in her blood, tasting him all the way down through her gut. Dark and intoxicating like poisonous absinthe, the promise of death swung amidst their hot, serpent-like dance.

Yet she only yearned to drink to her demise.

As if under a stupor, she swayed to his spells, bucking her hips to ground herself on the meat of his thigh, leaving the coarse fabric wet with sticky arousal. A condescending grin tugged at his lips, and his hand rushed to the back of her head, weaving through her hair and yanking her back.

“Already the wanton harlot,” he spat, swiftly turning her over and holding her against his chest. “Look at yourself,” he growled hoarsely in her ear, forcing her doe eyes to stare at their reflection. Sherlock rested his dimpled chin on the top of her head with his brows lowered like an apex predator examining his prey.

His hand disappeared behind, hastily fumbling with his trousers, “You wanted me to show you, you want to see,” he called as his trousers piled at his feet and he carefully stepped out.

Something hefty and hard nudged at the small of her back, turning her veins into thin tendrils of ice. Abysmal panic coiled at her gut at the realisation that Sherlock meant to reshape her as the vessel of his primal urge.

Hand snaking around her belly, he snatched her to fall back onto the mattress with him pillowing her fall. Her firm buttocks slid across his hairy abdomen, hands fumbling to grasp his thick thighs while her eyes flared at the sight of his hardened cock displayed in front of her in its full generous size.

It was nothing like the medical illustrations she saw in books: bulging tendons swerved across an imposing, meaty rod. Ridges rippled across its girth like soft silk, and the heart-shaped head dripped of glistening, pearly arousal.

Curious, her trembling hand wandered to feel him, stunned by the liquid-like texture that engulfed the absurd rigidness. By order of her touch, he twitched and swelled, causing the radiating heat at the apex of her groin to palpitate.

Pressing his lips to the shell of her ear, Sherlock growled, “Do you like what you see, little one?”

His taut hands reached to grasp her thighs, spreading her wide over each of his legs and holding them apart to expose her untouched sleek at the mirror. The thundering in his throat was nothing but animalistic as he glowered at her perfect sight: his little Nessie, his little untainted flower blooming fresh with dew, yearning to be plucked.

“Look at yourself,” Sherlock demanded with a whisper drenched of fervour. His coarse hand dragged to capture her chin and forced her to face the salacious spectacle reflected before them. Her breath shuddered; she saw their skin mapped onto one another, their bodies entangled and their souls unmasked.

How could something so forbidden be so beautiful?

“I dwell in the darkness, Vanessa.” Sherlock explained, his voice stroking her temple as his lips inched closer, “You must know that, you must have me as I am.”

He laved his tongue over her cheek as if he was tasting the sweetest delicacy and reached for his erection, stroking the pulsating girth between his fingers. Eyes still glued to their likeness on the glossy surface, she glanced as he pressed his pink, meaty tip between her dripping petals.

“Watch as I take something from you that can never be given back, something that will forever belong to me.”

“Sherl….”

His name died on her tongue, the moment forever lost in a loud shriek. Savagely and unceremoniously, he pried her virginal cunt open the way a predator rips at its prey’s throat. His massive shaft tore through her purity with no resistance to fight back against his brutal invasion.  

Pain rattled its way through her entire entity while the dark spectacle of the loss of her innocence played right in front of her eyes, spurring grievous tears. Lost to the bliss of her warm cavern, Sherlock chanted in loud groans, continuing to force himself all the way between her squeezing walls. Remorseless of her cries, he never stopped until every hollow inch inside her was full of his cock and his sac smacked against her stuffed opening.

“My! You feel good!” He panted with astonishment, his virility twitching within the lush sanctuary between her thighs. Noxious pride flowed in his veins at the reflection of the naked young girl, spread open with him inside her.

“Do you like having me inside you, my little harlot?”

“God!” Vanessa screamed, stunned by the sensation of him swelling at her core. His invasion seared, her legs trembled against his in a plea to be kept together. But he only stretched her wider, hooking both hands below her thighs.

“It will feel good in a little while,” he promised and slowly shifted his hips back. Inch by inch, his cock slid out of her now defiled slit, coated by blood and a sheer layer of arousal. It was something of decadent theatrics; his broad chest puffed against her spine, a blissful hum leaving his bobbing throat at the image of the crimson stain that decorated his sword.

“From this moment and beyond, this belongs to me,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck and planting wicked, butterfly kisses along the tender slope, “do you understand? Your little cunny is my property, your moans, your pleasure, all belong to me.”

Her cunt clenched around nothing as she watched his full length slipping out, tainted by broken purity, the empty void leaving pure urgency to course through her tendons. Hopeless for something she couldn’t even recognise, she whined and writhed on top of him. Her eyes levitated from their sexes to meet his icy glare.

“Sherlock, please, more! Please put yourself back inside me!!!”

“Fuck!” Sherlock rasped in awe of her wanton, his control nearly lapsed. Fingers digging into her thighs, he undulated his hips and pulled her down the length of his throbbing erection. Low melodies of pleasure rolled on his tongue as her wet cunt pressed around him again.

Gawking at the mirror, she nearly fell apart in his arms, cries of daze escaped her as Sherlock's drove back into her sleek. Every bit of his flesh unfolding hers, disappearing within her body to defy the loneliness aching in her cove until his entire shaft was lost in her depth and the tip of his cock hit something lush and tender. She could have sworn she felt him waver deep in her gut.

“Sherlock!!!” she cried, shutting her eyes at the sharp twinge that shuddered through her core.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes, dove,” he warned, and the authority in his voice left her no choice but to obey. Wickedly, his fingers slithered to the little nub of flesh above her slit and ruthlessly tugged at it to expose more of her battered sex. He continued to pound into her mercilessly, quickening the rhythm with each one of his thrusts.

“Look at you, taking me so obediently. Perhaps I was wrong about you, perhaps you are easily tamed.”

The thick bones of his hips crashed into her rump vigorously, his girth violently splitting her protesting walls. He was fast, wet, and hard inside her, his cock drilling into her over and over, every plunge stripping more layers of her soul and pushing her higher toward the heavens.

Enslaved to the beguiling aphrodisiac, she squirmed on top of him, her body beginning to push down to meet every thrust. The vision of herself being brutally taken by the large, civilised beast made the blood pool at the seams of her womanhood and tingle with frustration.

A shuddering quake began to spread within her, spiralling out in a sequence of spasms sourced at the spot where they connected. Bliss and ecstasy shattered her body and a sudden flush of pleasure exploded through her body as she came all over his cock.

Engulfed in her milking cunt, Sherlock could hardly believe what beheld his eyes. His beautiful nymph, coming undone around him, ethereal and divine. Her blissful chants a song to his ears only, she was like dryad humming a hymn to call upon a lonesome hunter.

“‘My Vanessa, I wanted you for so long.” He called, fucking her wildly through her orgasm. “Tell me you want me to come inside you,” he choked out on his grunts, her sugary walls closing around his thickness like a predatory flower, demanding to suckle his sweet elixir.

Still riding her climax, she shook her head, hesitant of speaking such profanities. But the stern glower on Sherlock’s face instantly forced her into submission.

“I want you to come … come inside me!” She panted and then screamed as another wave of intense rapture swept her away.

Her squeezing cunt forced the thick stream to vibrated through his shaft, making him drill into her with zeal. His fingers clutched her waist as he slammed her down onto his swollen cock, burying himself the deepest he could. Vanessa yipped as something hot sprouted into her, flooding her womb like a soothing kiss that slowly began trickling between their tight flesh.

Still locked in an embrace, they shivered together. Soft maple hues glimmered over their wet skin, their bodies heaving against one another while a symphony of pants and gasps filled the silence.

Sherlock’s glaciers sought to capture her reflection, a dark, brooding look on his sweat-silken face while his lips ghosted over her shoulder. There was no question in the rough expression of his face.

Nothing spoke louder than the possessiveness that pierced through the sharp reflection.

~*~

A tender stream of sunshower kissed her lids awake. The cerulean sky winked at her through the open window while her senses gingerly regained their functions after what felt like graveyard slumber. Finding herself alone, she wondered for a moment if the night before was only a fantasy; but this bed was too soft and far too large, and the sensation of shame licking between her thighs told her otherwise.

Even in his absence, Sherlock’s presence lingered. His pungent sweat layered on her skin, and from her torn seal trickled the pearly, forbidden essence of his loins. She allowed herself a moment of coy bliss, pressing her lips upon her bare shoulder to kiss the taste of him off her flesh when the thud of inching footsteps and creaking wood made her sit up with fright as if her presence was forbidden.

Huddling the blankets around her chest, she gulped as the door flung open.

Already dressed in a clean shirt, a vest of golden brown, and a long black jacket, the hulking man offered her a small wrinkle on his brow. Fine silks were folded on his forearm, and his eyes fell upon the naked beauty in his bed. A shadow of dark desire danced upon his slanted smirk as he noticed the little inkling of dry blood on the edge of the mattress.

“Slept well, my little Nessie?” He asked, passing a finger over his neatly combed locks before gesturing for her to approach him. Obedient as ever, his little servant quickly climbed out, immediately regretting her haste as a spear split through her core. With jolting legs, she swallowed her discomfort and approached him with her head lowered to the floor.

“No, we will have none of this,” Sherlock chided, his finger stalking beneath her chin to fix her stare on his. Their gazes met for a shy second and then he stepped back, unfolding the fabrics held beneath his arm.

A waterfall of black and crimson flowed down, hanging from his hands.

Vanessa’s eyes rounded with wonder; being a woman of lower status, she never owned anything as beautiful and expensive as the dress he held before her.

“Lift your arms, dove,” Sherlock commanded and she did as he bid.

The soft fabrics felt like warm liquid washing over her skin as Sherlock carefully slipped the dress over her head. His hands smoothly roamed her body, tugging at the delicate fabric to fit over her figure. The tall detective stepped to stand at her back and began working the laces of the corset embedded into the gown.

One by one, he tightened the silk binds as he pulled at the laces. Vanessa slightly hissed when her breasts squished against the generous cleavage.

“Forgive me,” Sherlock mumbled as he heard her distress, “I am not used to such… arrangements.”

“Arrangements?” she asked naively, though it quickly dawned on her that her dear master never had a wife or a mistress, which didn’t come much as a surprise after witnessing his bohemian desires the night before. And yet, no regret touched her heart as Sherlock pressed his hand over her torso and perched his chin atop her head once again.

“Look at us.” His lustrous eyes carried to the mirror, guiding hers to follow as he stroked his hand lower to flatten the folds of her dress and pushed her hair over her shoulders with the other.

“Don’t we make a pair?”

Glancing forward, Vanessa took a deep inhale. Crimson and black were unusually beautiful as they graced her figure. The rim of the cleavage was beaded with fine black jewels that gave her appearance an elegant, yet erotic flavour.

Taken by her new design, she allowed herself to be swallowed into Sherlock’s beautiful darkness.

She wouldn’t have him without it.

___________________________________

Additional notes: I don’t own Sherlock Holmes or Enola Holmes franchise. Thanks to @wondersofdreaming  @wolvesandhoundshowltogether and @sapphirescrolls for moral support. 

[zachsreaderinserts]

sleepy boys inc x gn!teen! reader headcannons

trying something new! i like bbs and all, but i wanted to write for other youtubers! lemme know if yall wanna see more content like this lol.

this takes place in a minecraft au!!! also, mentions of bad parenting/abusive parents

wc: 2,319

okay the sleepy boys

chaos incarnated, all of them. you can’t deny it

so, when tommy invites a friend from a local village, at first, everyone else is skeptical. since when has tommy made a friend who didn’t hate him within 20 minutes from all the screaming and insults he spewed?

unlike his friends, phil is more excited than anything. though he isn’t tommy’s dad, he feels like it sometimes, so he really wants to meet this new person who has caught the youngest’s attention

techno is very much not on board. he has a hard time trusting people at first glance and having been friends with tommy for the longest, he knows that tommy readily jumps the gun and attempts to befriend literally anything just because he can

and wilbur? indifferent for the most part. yes, he feels the need to make sure tommy is protected and cared for, but he also recognizes that this situation is out of his hands. the best he can do is hope that their friend isn’t an absolute asshole

so, it’s saturday. all three men are sitting on the couch in phil’s cottage, talking amongst themselves as they wait for tommy to come back. techno makes a joke about murdering them, which leads to phil scolding him about his violent tendencies

“you haven’t even met them yet, techno, what the fuck.”

wilbur is simply adding fuel to the fire, making little remarks here and there and watching the whole thing escalate to phil lecturing the piglin hybrid.

because of this, not one of them had noticed that tommy returned, with his newest friend. they both stopped at the sight of phil in dad mode, tommy considering just turning around and taking his friend as far away as physically possible

too late, since techno’s sixth sense made him whip around and stare at the newcomer. this made phil stop lecturing and wilbur quit giggling long enough for tommy to introduce his friend

after saying their name, the friend lifted their hand shyly, face burning from slight embarrassment. their other hand was latched onto tommy’s, feeling intimidated.

can you blame them? the fucking blood god looks like they wanna skewer them and cook them over a campfire.

tommy took notice of their shyness and cleared his throat, “we were planning on going to the carnival in their village if you three assholes feel like tagging along.”

like there was any way they were gonna let tommy and his friend go out without chaperones.

tommy turned back to his friend, “give me a second, i’m gonna go grab my sword just in case.” and proceeded to run up the stairs and towards the guest bedroom in phil’s house that he claimed.

the millisecond he was out of earshot, techno grabbed his friend by the front of the shirt.

“what are your intentions with tommy?”

the friend blinked once, twice, then bit back a smile. “you’re asking that as if i’m about to date that motherfucker.”

this time, it was wilbur who bit back a grin of his own. who would’ve expected the originally shy kid to have replied like that????

techno’s brain short circuited and his grip on their shirt loosened slightly. did.... did this kid just brush off his question???

“can you put me down? you’re gonna stretch my shirt.”

techno’s brain blinked back into focus and he gripped the kid’s shirt harder, shoving them against the nearest wall. “i asked a question, kid.”

“you know, tommy told me something like this would happen. i’m glad i came prepared.” and then, tommy’s friend sucked in a deep breath. techno leaned back, expecting the worst...

“MWISTER TECHNWOBWADE, PWEASE PUT MWE DOWN BEFWORE I SCWEAM”

oh god, this was far worse than anything he thought of.

he dropped the teen out of disgust more than anything, reeling backwards. if there was one thing that haunted his dreams, it was uwu-speak.

phil started howling of laughter, clutching his stomach and hunching over. originally he was going to stop techno from threatening a literal child but this outcome was so much better than anything he was anticipating

wilbur was no better, already tearing up from how hard he was snickering. he started choking on his own spit at one point, smacking his arm against the couch.

tommy was so fucking confused when he came back down the stairs, seeing the mayhem that was, for once, not caused by him. he glanced at his friend, who had the world’s biggest shiteating grin.

yeah, they were gonna fit in just fine.

and they did! phil took them under his wing (both physically and metaphorically) and allowed them to come visit his home whenever they wished. and whenever they did, phil was the first to ask how they’ve been and what they were up to

to phil’s surprise, the kid was overall calm in their choice of activities. things like playing soccer or drawing or figuring out how to learn instruments in their free time. it seemed like they were desperate to get their hands on anything and everything just to learn

he found it funny, though, when their chaotic side shone through. they easily were on tommy’s level when they got into that headspace and it was so hilarious to him.

his favorite memory of the kid was when they walked into the house and marched right up to where techno was reading idly in the corner. planting their hands on their hips, they spoke.

“if you were to fuck a clone of yourself, would it be masturbation or would you be considered gay?”

phil, who was washing the dishes six feet away from them, just about crumbled into a ball on the floor from how hard he was laughing and sobbing.

of all questions, that was the one that came out.

but he had no idea that the chaos was a coping mechanism. he just thought they were naturally like that in their free time.

he soon found out the truth when they came home with tommy, who was cursing up a fit, visibly angry. his friend was slumped over, as if trying to hide themselves from the world

when phil asked what had happened, tommy exploded.

“their fucking dad took all their money from their savings! said he needed it more than them and when they asked for it back, he called them a fucking disappointment! that fucking bitch--”

phil can count very few times when he felt true anger and he can confirm that when tommy had told him what had gone down, he saw red.

but he knew better than to outwardly show it. judging by how hunched over and defeated the kid was, what they needed was a stable support system

so he walked over and shut tommy up with a hand on his shoulder, “why don’t we take the rest of the night to build up that game room you wanted in the basement. i’m sure if we knock it out before techno and wil are supposed to be back, we can all play something like monopoly.”

seeing where phil was headed, tommy nodded and brushed away his anger. he knew that what his friend needed was a serious cheering up. tommy ran towards his guest bedroom, claiming that he was going to find his blocks.

phil crouched in front of the teen, tilting their head up to look him in the eyes. “you’re not a disappointment. you’re an amazing person with a chaotic joke machine going 120 kilos over the speed limit in your head and you are talented. your dad doesn’t know shit about what you’re capable of doing.”

oh boy, the kid’s crying. those are tears, full on tears.

that night was one of the best nights of their life, however. they enjoyed the entire three hour long game of monopoly where they watched the light leave everyone’s eyes. it was funny when wilbur lunged across the table when he landed on a railroad, out for phil’s blood.

speaking of wilbur, he enjoyed every minute in the kid’s presence. they often asked creative and random questions and went along with the abstract jokes he made, the two of them laughing heartily the entire time.

when the kid first mentioned wanting to learn how to play the guitar, he practically burst through the wall of the room next door, breathing heavily and exaggeratedly.

“did someone say guitar”

yeah, he’s feral. that’s canon.

they proceeded to spend the entire day in phil’s garden, each of them equipped with a guitar. despite their outwardly smooth brain and stupid demeanor, the teen was a fast learner and could play the most basic chords by the time the sun was setting.

wilbur’s favorite moment was the first night they met, when they went to the carnival. there was the game where you shoot the water and fill up the balloons and the kid was going head to head against techno and tommy.

it was when techno won that the teen turned to techno with murder in their eyes and spoke in a deadpan tone of voice,

“you’re lucky you won this time, you gentrified mayo monkey.”

wilbur’s jaw dropped, as did techno and phil’s. tommy was already in hysterics, smacking his hand against the counter that held the guns.

needless to say, wilbur found his favorite, not-quite sibling in a heartbeat.

techno was the last to come around with the child. can you blame him? every time he tried to threaten them or had beaten them at something, they would respond in a cryptic threat--

“i’m going to pee your pants if you don’t let me win”

or just brushed him off. without a second thought.

“anyways, i was murdering a chicken the other day, and the fucker had the audacity to ribbit at me.”

to say he was confused was an understatement. he was terrified of the fact that a literal child held so much power and disinterest in things like their own life. so for the first few months, he avoided them.

but he had seen past that when it was around midnight on a weekday. tommy was hanging out with tubbo and ranboo in their village miles away from the area. wilbur was out drinking with schlatt, niki, and fundy, and phil was already asleep.

techno wasn’t too far behind, sitting in front of the fireplace and staring out of the window that showed the front yard. it was only then when he saw the flash of a familiar face and looked closer as the teen walked up to the house quietly. their head was down and they carried a small bag with them.

techno opened the front door with a long creak as they reached the porch steps. it was only when they jumped and looked up in surprise that techno had noticed a deep bruise on their left cheek in the moonlight.

despite the fact that he kept away from them, techno was very protective and territorial of tommy, phil, and wilbur. and since they were attached to the teen, he became protective of them as well.

so all the voices in his head went quiet for a second. before exploding into a mixture of screams and threats, all leading back to protecting the child in front of him.

without thinking, he reached forward and cupped their face for a better view of the bruise. at the warm and soft touch, tears slipped down the kid’s cheeks and they sniffed pathetically.

the voices quickly took a 180, all screaming to take care of them. make them feel better. so, techno led the kid inside and let them spend the night in his room, with them falling asleep on the bed and him falling asleep on the rocking chair in his room.

phil did not hesitate to officially declare himself as the teen’s official father, saying that their biological father was a “little bitch”

now somewhat living with the teen, techno found an appreciation for their quieter moments, when they were reading or simply daydreaming. it was cute, in his eyes. but he also grew to enjoy when they were absolutely feral, especially toward tommy.

his favorite moment with them was when they had gifted tommy a music disc for his birthday. it was sweet and sentimental and tommy just about burst into tears when he saw it.

all of the sappiness quickly vanished when tommy put it into a jukebox.

“FUCK THIS PUSSY, BOY, FUCK. FUCK IT RIGHT, BOY--”

tommy had let out the most terrified scream and it practically engrained itself into techno’s brain. it was the first time he ever laughed at something the teen had done and the teen felt proud of themselves.

and finally, tommy. he was already happy to call himself a friend of the teen’s. they were like peas in a pod, working together.

tommy came to them when his insecurity felt heavy and they came to him whenever their dad’s words got to them. they had a nice system of dependency on one another and neither of them would trade it for the world.

tommy’s favorite moment of being friends with them was during their first birthday living in phil’s house. it was a birthday befitting their personality, with brightly color streamers hung and confetti all over the floor. he knew that they enjoyed it severely and once the cake was cut, the kid turned to phil.

“phil, where’s the big tiddy strippers i requested?”

tommy was GONE

he all but choked on his slice of cake and walked away, shaking his head while trying to stifle his giggles. but when he heard phil’s scream of “WHAT”, he just lost it.

all in all, his friend had made a fine part of the sleepy boys. they were a happy face in an otherwise somewhat bleak and dangerous world. and all four men appreciated it.

[keanureevesisbae]

You're on a roadtrip and in the middle of nowhere, your car breaks down. Obviously your phone died too - what happens next?

This, is very interesting and my horny brain figured out what would happen next 👀👀

Walter Marshall x fem!reader

Wordcount: 1.5k (yes, a lot happens)

Warnings: Fingering, squirting, unprotected sex 👀

‘Piece of shit,’ you mutter under your breath. You cannot believe this happened again and to make matters even worse, you're in the middle of fucking nowhere. Last time your car decided to break down, at least it happened downtown, meaning there were around five men who saw you hopelessly staring at your car, not knowing what to do and offered their help.

Now, you’re by yourself.

You grab your phone from the passengers seat, only to discover the most horrible thing that could ever happen to you.

Your battery died.

It’s probably around thirty minutes until you reach some sort of civilization and it’s getting darker and darker.

Oh no, is this how people get murdered?

Great, now you’re not only by yourself, but you also scared yourself by envisioning horrible scenario's. You pop the hood of the car, only to realize that everything looks the exact same and you have no idea where to start. Why do the problems have to be so complicated? If it were a flat tire, you probably would’ve managed to fix it, but this is on a whole new level of complex.

A car stops behind yours and your heart stops for a few seconds. Please don’t be a serial killer, please don’t be creepy in general. You peek around your car, only to see the very familiar truck. You’ve seen that car around in town, including the owner of it.

You watch him step out of the vehicle. His shoulders are broad, his strut is confident and his brows are furrowed, but that is nothing new. When he sees it’s you, one corner of his mouth curls up. ‘Sweetheart,’ he says and you can’t help but slightly giggle when hearing that nickname.

Detective Walter Marshall is a very well loved customer at the cafe you work at, mostly because he comes by every day and has become a reliable income. He always orders one cappuccino to go and sometimes he goes a little crazy and orders a cookie with it as well. He rarely smiles, but recently you noticed that whenever you took his orders, you not only earned yourself a very lovely 'Sweetheart', but also a small smile. Sometimes, he would even go as far to asking you what your plans were for after work and when you answered with whatever the plans were, he would simply nod and tell you to not have too much fun without him.

It was cheeky and slightly flirty, but it was always within the four walls of the cafe and nothing happened. You wished though. Walter Marshall was a very desired bachelor in town.

‘Hi detective,’ you say with a smile.

‘Car trouble?’

You nod. ‘Yes, it’s just that my car gives up from time to time.’

‘I see, I see.’ He rolls up his sleeves and stands next to you, examining everything. He starts to say something about some sort of liquid/fuel-thingy, but you have no idea what he means. Not only are you distracted because it’s too complicated, but also because of his outstanding beauty. No man in town tips to him.

Of course you fantasized about him, just like everyone else. There was quite the age gap between you, a rough fifteen years, but that never stopped you from having the most disgusting, NSFW dreams about him.

‘What?’ you ask him, when he looks at you, obviously waiting for an answer.

‘You weren’t listening,’ he chuckles. ‘That’s okay. What I said was that it’s too late to call for a tow truck and that I can’t fix it right away. We can leave your car here and I can drive you to your place if you want.'

'But what if it gets stolen?'

'How?' he asks. 'The car doesn't work, right?'

You shake your head. 'Maybe it's for the best. It's a stupid car anyway. The only reason I have it, because I got it for free.'

'Maybe that should've been a red flag. Free cars are rarely reliable.'

You scoff. Dammit, you hate it when other people are right. 'You sure you want to give me a lift?'

Walter scoffs. ‘I’m not gonna leave you in the middle of nowhere by yourself.’ He closes the hood of my car and adds to it: ‘Besides, I don’t want anything to happen to my favorite barista. You’re the only one who hasn’t messed with my cappuccino.’

You shouldn’t giggle or feel nervous, yet you do both.

‘Come on, go grab your stuff and we’ll go.’

You walk over to the driver’s side and lean over the seats to grab both the key from the ignition and your bag. Then you realize that you are wearing a pretty short skirt and your underwear is a bit on the flimsier side. You hear an approving hum from behind you. Part of you wants to die of shame, the other part however makes sure things heat up in between your thighs.

When you get out of the car and close the door, Walter has his arms crossed in front of his chest. ‘One condition, sweetheart,’ he says, taking the bag from your hand.

You frown. ‘For what?’

‘For me to give you a lift back home.’ He holds out one of his hands and says: ‘That piece of fabric you call your underwear, please.’

You blink your eyes once, twice and the universe how many times after that, mostly because you cannot believe those words—those dirty words—left his lips. His expression barely changed. It’s the emotionless look you are so used of seeing, but the words that take you by surprise.

You have had many dirty daydreams, but handing over your underwear in the middle of nowhere wasn’t one. You hook your thumbs behind the waistband of your panties and push it down your legs. When you step out of them, you hand them to Walter, who nods in approval.

The two of you walk towards the passenger’s side of his truck, when he grabs you by your hip and turns you around. With your back pressed against the door, he lets his hand slide underneath your skirt between your thighs. Your lips slightly parted, as his rough fingers knead the soft flesh of your thighs. ‘Do you have any idea how much I’ve been wanting this?’ he asks you. ‘It’s always those pretty smiles,’ he continues, ‘the way you lean over the counter in those tops with a deep neckline and how you bite your lip when you’re focused. Have you got a clue of what that does to me?’

‘No detective, I don’t,’ you whimper.

Walter smiles at your desperation, as you’re already grinding against his fingers. Fuck, he knew deep down what you could be, but this he didn’t expect. He dips in one finger, but when he discovers how wet you are, how ready you are for him, he pushes in another.

Your pleasured moan fills the emptiness around you. You’re a loud one too, Walter thinks to himself. You sure are the jackpot. His fingers brush against all the right spots. He watches your eyes rolling back, your breathing become ragged and your thighs and walls clenching together. ‘Beg for it,’ he says.

Instantly, you obey. ‘Detective, please, please, can I cum?’

There is no way you are truly real.

He barely has the change to answer, when you tumble over the edge. When you have to hold onto him since you can’t trust your own legs. When you squirt passed his fingers down your legs. The sobs and strained moans that leave your lips, make him grin in satisfaction. He roughly slams his lips against yours and within a second you melt against him.

He pulls out his fingers and without letting go of your lips for one millisecond, he opens the door of his truck. ‘They always say you are such a lovely young lady. So innocent and sweet,’ he says to you. ‘But you’ve got a dirty streak.’

You bite your lip and let out a sweet giggle when he turns you around, bending you over the passengers seat of the truck, your toes barely finding the ground. As Walter uses one hand to knead the soft flesh of your ample behind, the other unzips his pants and pulls out his cock. After pumping it a few times, he lines himself up at your throbbing cunt, before pushing himself in entirely.

The sounds that leave your lips, make him go feral. Part of him wants to take the time, worship your body and look you in the eye as you fall apart in his arms. But that part doesn’t have the upper hand now. The part that wants to destroy you, rail you, fill you is completely taking over.

There is no stopping now. Skin slapping against skin. His groans mixed with your cries of pleasure. He can feel it, your warm walls that feel so good around him, start to squeeze his hard member. ‘Detective, I’m close again,’ you wail.

‘Let it go, sweetheart,’ he tells you and on cue you start to shudder, your orgasm washing over you and that’s enough for him to reach his limits. He holds your hips tightly, probably imprinting you with some bruises, as he paints you from the inside.

He gives himself a few seconds to regain himself, before he pulls out and watches it all drip down your legs. You’re limb, barely able to stand on your legs. Your skirt is still bundled up near your waist, revealing your beautiful round bottom.

He grabs you by your arm and pulls you against his body, pressing his lips on yours. ‘You’re gonna make a mess on my seat,’ he says.

‘You’re fault,’ you mumble against his lips, only for you to earn a sharp slap on your behind. ‘Sorry, detective,’ you whisper. ‘How— Where do I sit then?’

He smiles. ‘Right on my cock as I drive you to my place, because we’re not done yet.’

✨ Okay, I'll see myself out now ✨

[nevertheless-moving]

Could you talk more about your gumbo jar jar au or the frog one? 🐸

hm on close review the frog promise draft is a now redundant drabble from this au. Here it is in its entirety:

“I will never join you,” Luke said with a sneer of disgust.

Palpatine, as well as the nearby politicians, Jedi masters, and reporters were taken aback. 

“I’m afraid I don’t understand your meaning, Master Jedi,” the Senator said incredulously. “Do you mean to tell me that you consider yourself separate from the Republic? I know the Jedi Council had disavowed recognizing you but I never could have imagined...” he trailed off, leaving the crowd to murmur in alarm.

“I mean I will never join the Sith,” the rogue master replied calmly. “I imagine you’re responsible for the traces of the dark side I felt amongst the trade federation leaders.”

“The Sith...I see.” Palpatine took a step back, deliberately reassuring tone and alarmed expression clearly indicated that he suspected the man before him of insanity. “It’s been a very long day and you clearly intended to do good by my humble home world. Perhaps your fellow Jedi can take you to the healers so you can-”

“Why are you working alongside a Sith Lord?” Luke cut off the Senator and addressed Grandmaster Yoda directly. 

“A Sith Lord, you say?” Master Yoda replied. “A most serious allegation, this is.”

Basically, Luke derails the Naboo Crisis by absolutely annihilating the trade federation army, only realizing after the fact when and where he is. This means that Padme turns right around from Tatooine and never voices her vote of no-confidence. Now, Palpatine probably had contingency plans in place, but the public accusation by a Jedi of being responsible for the crisis in the first place, despite absolutely no evidence, hurts his image enough that he’s not going to win a vote, because people will think it’s a power grab. 

And it’s funny cause it’s true but Luke only barely knows that! He’s just accusing Palpatine of being behind the first evil thing he sees and he fuckin happens to be right!!!

Anyway Luke doesn’t focus on Palpatine; there are like 10,000 other Jedi around. He commits himself first and foremost to completing his training with Master Yoda because sometime Yoda just dies and fades into thin air so, you know! He’s not going to procrastinate on that again!

He goes before the council and humbly asks to be taken on Yoda’s student (this is right before Qui-Gon can ask about Anakin- literally, Anakin and Qui-Gon are in the waiting room). He gives several extremely vague banthashit explanations of who he is ‘I’m a follower of the Force,’ where he comes from ‘the Force sent me,’ and why they should train him when he’s way too old ‘the Force willed it.’ Yoda is somewhat impressed because those are some real unhelpfully wise answers and- here’s the kicker- Luke actually believes them! 

He is really committed to being a Jedi! Is 110% all about being a luminous being! This is several years after return of the Jedi and Luke has pretty much just been hanging out in force temples meditating with ghosts so he has quintessential Jedi vibes, he just knows jackshit about anything!

What really clinches it for Yoda is the fact that his robe pocket starts squirming and he pulls out a live Nabooian Salt Frog. And hands it to Yoda like, “These are one of your favorites right? :) I saw it and I thought of you :)”

Now Yoda- let’s step back a second. Yoda is old. Yoda, in his youth, was a bit more feral. He’s a top level predator and the order has always celebrated diversity and being true to your origins! He’s hunted with Tortugans on Shili! He’s unhinged his jaw with Besalisks on Ojom! 

But as the Republic’s boundaries caved in on themselves, he was more and more put into contact with Core senators who tend to be unnerved by more, ah, carnivorous tendencies. And the more he was put into high level positions by virtue of being really frickin old, the more restrained he became in his public behavior. 

Decades passed and younglings who only ever knew his more ‘harmless-prank’ feral tendencies were increasingly shocked and scared to see him occasionally unhinge his jaw to eat a scrocodile whole. Some of the prey-origin younglings from that field trip actually avoided him for the rest of the their lives.

So. Yoda is still a carnivore- but- in private. With his padawans and his closest peers. But his closest peers age and die and his padawans get younger and smaller as the decades pass. He took on two herbivorous padawans in a row and as a result restrained himself from openly hunting with another soul for around for 50 years.

And then there’s Dooku. ‘Ah a human,’ he thinks. ‘They hunt sometimes. Well. They’re omnivores at least.’

And Dooku is- and I’m not saying this to shame Dooku- but he’s prissy. He likes...neatness. He’s not afraid of violence but force forbid it’s untidy. So when Yoda, excited to get his ambush predation on, takes 14 year old Dooku who’s barely ever left the sterile confines of Coruscant on a trip to a swamp world- yeaaahh it doesn’t go well. Dooku- he doesn’t mean to, honestly. How would he even know that Yoda might be sensitive about things? He’s Yoda. 

But Dooku sobbing openly and puking a little in a bush and running away from Yoda because his Master is terrifying and gross. It... kind of puts the nail in the coffin for Yoda being open about that side of himself. He doesn’t really have it in him to try again. People’s view of him is too fixed, they can’t handle him also being a flesh creature so he focuses on the luminous side of him which is and always was, genuinely, more important than him.

And that’s been the last 100 years or so. The thrill of a live kill is just a little piece of himself that he meditates away and that’s ok. He has the force. He has the order. He’s old anyway, a real hunt would probably hurt his joints. 

And then in comes Luke, radiating Light and earnestness and Jedi serenity while also holding out a very tasty looking live frog. And Yoda realizes Dooku’s not around, he’s surrounded by a council he trusts and respects and likes, none of whom are 14 year olds, all of whom have seen the galaxy and seen worse. He is almost seizing the moment but there’s a little part of him that shriveled up when Dooku cried that’s having a hard time accepting this.

“Want it for yourself, you do not?” Yoda cackles, playing off the offer.

Luke smiles sheepishly and pulls out another live frog. “I was saving it for later. Forgive me Master, your senses are keen as ever I see.”

And Yoda...it’s not about the bribe, really, so much as the symbolism, and it’s not about the flattery either, but darn is the kid really pulling out the stops to make himself likable. And he is a kid, to Yoda anyway. Everyone is these days. What does he care about numbers when there’s a boy smiling like his third padawan, an adorable Rodian who took great delight in their more amphibious and wild missions?

Yoda snatches one of the frogs and slowly raises it in a parody of a toast. Luke does the same. The rest of the council quietly watches in various shades of bewilderment and bemusement.

They’re not actually going to eat that right? Mace thinks. Ugh I hate frogs the skin is so slimy. Shaak Ti thinks. I cannot believe they’re not even offering me one. Yaddle thinks.

And Yoda bites the head off the frog in a quick snap of his jaws, the rest following rapidly. Luke does the same- a slight assist from the force helping his less specialized mandible tear through skin and bone in a well practiced move. He chews slower, but finishes the frog soon enough, the rest of the council looking on with deep uncertainty and a tiny bit of hunger, but no actual fear. They’re Jedi Masters; they’ve eaten everywhere, it’s just a little weird for a human to be eating a live animal and Yoda as far as anyone knew only ate stew and also they were in the middle of a council meeting.

Yoda belches and Luke smiles genially.

“Take you on as my padawan learner, I will. Much to learn you have, much to teach you, I do.”

Luke beams. The council looks on in shock. 

“Master Yoda,” Mace Windu says hesitantly, “He’s clearly in his late 20s, at the earliest. If this is about the... frog thing-”

“Was a pleasant surprise, the frog. The reason for my decision, it is not. Had some training already, he has. Know each other before this day, we do. Taking over for a Master passed into the force, I am merely. Our custom, this is.”

Luke bows lowly and an initiate is summoned to escort him to the quartermasters and then the long-empty padawan suite next to Yoda’s chambers. 

Qui-Gon and Anakin are brought in and. Well. It’s a little hard for them to simply reject the boy after Yoda just pulled that stunt. He’s sent to the initiates dorm, eventually. Mace Windu has a headache from the shatterpoints blinking in and out of existence. Shaak Ti is delighted to discuss a hunting trip with Master Yoda and his new padawan learner Luke Svader. 

The force dances.