#windows 7 installation step by step

[itbabasachinsharma]

Delete All Temporary Files||Computer Ki Speed Kaise BadhayeWindows 7,8,10||OneClick||By SachinSharma

[zoeythebee]

Why is it that every time I try dualbooting windows and linux I expect it to go well. It never does!

[thewirewitch]

*Kicks door open* GUESS WHO HAS A WINDOWS XP LAPTOP NOW???

[daydreams-after-dark]

Free Use Jail Cell, Part 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 (final) | extra: Police Reports | extra: Dinner date with Minho

full master list for additional installments

Police Officer Skz ot8 x female reader

Premise: you're arrested and held for 24 hours by 8 police officers at the local police station / reader has her fantasy play out.

Word Count: 3k (part 1)

Chapter Summary: Officer Seo Changbin arrests you and has some one on one time with you before taking you to the station. You meet the other officers. (This chapter is Changbin focused, but a little bit happens at the end with the other officers.)

a/n: This fic will be in multiple parts because I get too impatient not to share what I’ve written so far. There will be two, possibly three installments turns out it will be more like 6 (tag list is open).

I refer to the officers as “Officer Hyunjin”, “Officer Minho” etc just to make it quick to identify the characters. 

The whole premise is planned and explained in the fic. The story is purely fantasy, but please be mindful of content warnings, as it has potentially triggering content. I want you to be safe here on my blog.

CW: planned fantasy role play, police arrest, nudity, unprotected sex in a semi public space, pain kink, roleplay pain, anal play, blow jobs, cum eating, name calling (both praising and degrading), reference to sexual acts, imprisonment, restraints (handcuffing).

🚨🚨🚨🚨

The lights of the police patrol car reflect in your rear view mirror, signaling for you to stop your car.

“Dammit.” You sigh as you pull your car over to the side of the road.

You watch in your side mirror as a police officer emerges from his patrol car, and your heart rate increases when you see the well built figure approach your window. 

“Everything okay, Officer?” You say innocently.

“I’m gonna need you step out of the vehicle, Ma'am.” He says sternly.

“But I wasn’t speeding.” You protest as he opens your car door and pulls you out.

“Ouch! You’re hurting me!” You writhe against him, but he’s too strong.

“No. But you’ve just resisted arrest, so you’re in big trouble little bunny.” He slams you front first against the side of your car and proceeds to handcuff your hands around your back.

“You’ve got the wrong woman, Dude!” You cry.

“That’s Officer Seo Changbin, to you.” He tears you away from your car abruptly and tugs you towards his police car. “In.” He throws you in the back of the car like a rag doll.

“But my car!” You wail, as he slams the door and hops into the driver’s seat.

“Shh. It’ll be impounded. Now not another word.”

“But you haven’t read me my rights! You can’t do this!”

But Officer SEO Changbin ignores you as he drives away.

After half an hour of you demanding he explain what you’ve actually been arrested for, and half an hour of being met with silence, Officer Changbin pulls off the main road and parks his car in a deserted space under a bridge.

Alarm bells go off in your head as you look around. The area is absolutely deserted. You frantically try to formulate a plan to escape. But even if you did escape, you’re fucking handcuffed.

The Officer opens the back door and slips in beside you, holding a tablet and stylus. “Y/n. Twenty five. Female. Submitted a ‘free use jail fantasy’. That is you, is it not?” He quirks an eyebrow at you. 

You stare at the man, but remain silent. Isn’t that one of your rights?

Changbin sighs. “This is your contract. I need you to understand the terms of our engagement.”

He holds the tablet in front of you so you can read exactly what you signed yourself up for. 

I, y/n, agree to being held prisoner in a police station setting, where eight men have the right to use my body how they see fit. This includes: degradation, humiliation, spanking, oral sex, vaginal penetration, anal penetration (includes use of fingers), double penetration, rough sex, use of props and restraints. 

Please read below for further details.

You scroll through the rest of the pages. Details of the acts that may take place, photos of the men and their role, special interests and skills. They are fucking handsome as hell too.

What the fuck have you signed up for? It sounded good in your head. It sounded good when you applied. But now it’s real.. You gulp and look at the Officer. 

“Sign here.” He points to the space at the bottom of page 12.

“Umm…”  you nudge your head towards your restraints.

“Oh yes of course.” Changbin releases your cuffs, opting to secure them in front of you instead. You take the stylus and sign on the dotted line.

You only live once right?

“Great. So as of now you belong to us. Well, for the next 24 hours.” He says matter of fact.

You suck on your lower lip. “So, like right now you could get me to do…things?” You say in a small voice.

“Yes, that’s right. I could instruct you to do things. Or, I could just do things to you. Free use, remember?” He takes the tablet from you and places it next to him in the seat. Your eyes fall on his thick bicep and you feel an ache between your legs. He sits back, slouching against the backseat, and his eyes drop to your bare leg.

A heavy silence fills the car. 

Changbin reaches out to squeeze your thigh, just above your knee and you hold your breath as his hand slowly slides up under your skirt.

“Show me your panties.” He whispers, lifting your skirt up. You open your legs for him. 

His plush, pink lips part slightly.  “Take them off.” He instructs.

You shimmy your panties off and wait for your next instructions. 

“Unbuckle my belt.”

The chain of the handcuffs rattling, and his heavy breaths are the only sounds as you bring your hands to his belt. “Uunzip my pants and take out my cock.”

Your heart begins to race, and your mouth becomes dry, as anticipation and fear bubble in your stomach. Your fingers shake as you unzip his fly and pull his length through the opening of his boxers. Fuck, he is so thick. Your eyes flick up to his.

“Suck it.” He says, staring at you.

You take a deep breath and bring your mouth closer to the fat tip, wondering you you’d even be able to stretch your mouth around it. You kiss the slit. Changbin hisses. “Don’t tease.” He says with a gravely tone. 

You swirl your tongue around the tip, then along the shaft, moistening it up. But Changbin is impatient, and he presses his hand on the back of your head, indicating that he’s had enough of your chaste ministrations.

You stretch your mouth around his girth and sink your head down over him. God, he’s not going to fit. You’re going to choke. 

“C’mon, deeper.” He pushes your head, coaxing you to take more of him. Your eyes immediately water, but you do your very best to suck him enthusiastically.

You feel his hand slide down your back and over your ass. You whimper when he lifts your skirt up and he spanks you on the ass. “Deeper.” He moans. 

You lift off and take a big breath before taking him back in your mouth, forcing yourself to take even more of him. His fingers finds your pussy, sliding them  through your wet folds. He gathers some of your arousal and brings the pad of his finger to your asshole. 

“Hmm… you feel like you’re gonna be so tight. The boys are going to have fun stretching out this little thing. You won’t be able to sit for a week.” He chuckles. 

You moan at the thought, excited to be used.

Changbin’s finger breaches the tight ring of muscle as he presses inside. It’s just to the first knuckle but it’s making you hungry for more.

“That’s enough for now.” He decides, withdrawing his finger and pulling your mouth off his cock. You sit up whining at the loss. “Are we going to go to the police station now?” You inquire.

Changbin scoffs. “Greedy little thing. Can’t wait for what’s in store for you.” He strokes your tear stained cheek. “We’ll go soon. But not until you ride me. Climb on.” He nods towards his cock. “I want first feel of your pussy.”

You straddle Officer Changbin, wrapping your still cuffed hands around his neck, and he holds his cock steady for you as you lower yourself down on him. “Fuck!” You squeak as you feel the tip against your entrance. “You’re so big Officer. I’m not sure I can take you.” 

You swallow, looking into his eyes. There’s lust there. You can see it. He looks like he could hurt you, but there’s a kindness in his expression too, and you wonder if the other men will be like him?

“If you can’t take my cock, how are you gonna take two at once?” He whispers. “Sit on it. I want to feel your walls wrapped around my dick.”

“What if I say no? What happens?” You challenge him.”

“‘No’s not your safe word.” He grips your hips and slowly lowers you down onto his length. “Just keep your eyes on me, sweet thing. Shhh. I know Binnie’s thick.”

You shake your head. “It’s too big.” 

“It’s gonna feel good. I promise. Let me stretch your tight little walls.” He breathes against your cheek.

You feel yourself stretching for him, slowly relaxing to accommodate his size. Inch by inch you feel him fill you. 

“You are tight aren’t you? Fuck, like a vice.” He closes his eyes and tries to steady his breath.

You push yourself down all the way and pause. 

Changbin opens his eyes again and lifts your skirt so he can see where you’re impaled on him.

“See. Look at that.” He says in awe. Your eyes follow his as you lift up slightly and lower yourself again, watching him disappear inside you. 

“Bounce on me. Show me what a good little girl you are, and I’ll put in a good word in my report.”

He digs his hands into your ass cheeks, spreading them and using his grip on them to bounce you.

“I need you to scream for me. No one’s gonna hear you, but I want you to scream your lungs out anyway.”

He grips you tighter, and as though you weigh nothing, he lifts you up and slams you down. You cry out. “Again!” He growls as he slides you up his cock, and drops you back down. “Scream.”

You cry out, screaming loudly.

“Hurts doesn’t it, bunny?” He uses his hips to fuck up into you ferociously.

“N-no…feels goo-”

“Say it hurts. Scream like it hurts.” He growls and throws  you off him and pushes your face into the car seat. He lifts your hips to meet his cock and thrusts into you forcefully. Every thrust is deep and hard. Your pussy feels stretched to its limits. 

He’s relentless, pounding into you harder and harder. The sound of your bodies colliding filling the car. The windows are steamed up, and you're certain the car is rocking wildly.

“Stop… please… too hard…it hurts…” you scream. But you don’t use your safe word. It actually feels incredible.

“Is Binnie too much, hmm? Poor little cunt struggling to fit me?” He mocks you.

You scream louder. He picks up the pace. 

“Fuck…I’m coming!!!” You let out the loudest scream your lungs can muster, as you clench your walls around Changbin’s cock.

“That’s it, so nice and loud for me.”  He helps you ride out your orgasm and then withdraws from your still quivering cunt.

“Good, compliant little bunny. Come, drink up.” He strokes your hair as he helps you turn around so you can wrap your lips around his cock again. He pumps the length a few times until you feel his hot, thick cum coat your tongue. 

“Open. Show me.” The tilts your chin as you present to him your mouth full of semen. “Swallow it up for me.”

You keep your eyes locked on him as you swallow the thick, salty substance, and then open back up to show him.

“Good girl. We need to get you into your cell.” He smirks and gets back into the front of the car.

🚨🚨🚨🚨

It’s almost dark when you get to the police station and you’re feeling incredibly nervous about what lies ahead. 

Changbin helps you get out of the vehicle, leaving your panties on the floor, and escorts you up the front steps of the building. It actually looks like a real police station too, and you wonder how on earth they managed to have access to this place.

The seven other men are waiting for you. They eagerly stand up from their desks as Changbin walks you past until you reach the cell at the far end of the room.

“In.” He grunts, removing your handcuffs and pushing you inside and slamming the door closed behind you. You quickly take in your surroundings. There’s absolutely nothing in your cell except a mattress with two folded blankets on top.

“So this is the sweet thing we have to break?” One of the men jeers. 

“This will be fun.” Another adds.

You turn back towards the men, who are all lined up on the other side of the bars. They watch you. So many eyes. On you. Some look mean. Others look kind. You recognise each of them from the photos, and you know from your research you need to watch out for the ones named Seungmin and Minho. 

“Y/n. Come meet the officers.” The Chef, Chan you believe his name is, says firmly.

You take a step forward.

“No.” He stops you. “First, strip.” 

“Oh!” You squeak. You hesitate. Are you really ready for this? But there’s something thrilling about this situation, and you know, deep down, even though you’re nervous, scared even, you don’t want to stop. Your hands tremble as they grasp the hem of your top and you pull it over your head. Leaving your top half In merely a flimsy sheer bra.

“Fuck. She’s hot.” One of them men whistle under his breath.

“The skirt too..” Chan barks.

“B-but-“ you remember you’re not wearing underwear.

“Skirt. Off. I don’t like repeating myself.” Chan snaps.

You lower your eyes as you peel your skirt down and let drop it to the floor.

“No panties. What a slut.” Minho smirks.

You can feel all eyes on your bare pussy. 

“Look at the officers before you y/n.”

You lift your head and look at the men.  

“For the next twenty four hours these men own your body. They want your cunt? You let them have it. They want to fuck your ass? It’s theirs. They want to take you two at a time? Tie you up, use restraints? You do not resist. They feel they need to punish you? You take it willingly. They want to degrade you, humiliate you?” 

Seungmin laughs at that.

“They can. If they want to treat you nice, be sweet, they’re allowed to do that too. But you don’t come without permission. They control your orgasms.”

Chan basically recites  your submission request back to you.

“Alright. Come forward to meet the officers who will be taking good care of you over the next twenty four hours.” 

You take a step forward. “On your knees.” Chan corrects you.

You drop to your knees, the floor is cold and hard, and you crawl over to where the men wait.

The one named Minho comes forward and presents his erect cock to you, sliding it through the bars. “Come say hello, kitten.” He says coldly.

You look up at him as you wrap your mouth around him, and he immediately takes hold of the back of your head to keep it still while he fucks your mouth. You hear several belts being unbuckled around you.

So this is the introductions then?

“Changbin and I will leave you to it.” Chan informs the group and he and Changbin leave you with the remaining six officers.

From what you can tell from the way Minho holds your head and watches you with intense eyes, is that the man can read your limits. He pushes in just enough to make you gag, but not quite making you choke. His rhythm is smooth and consistent, and when he cums you know he’s holding back a pretty moan. He’s definitely a dom, but one that really understands a sub.

Felix, the pretty and gentle blond, is careful with your face, he doesn’t push too far, and he lets you use your hand on him. But there’s a glimmer in his eye that tells you he doesn’t mind the kinkier side of things, or that he might like seeing you in pain.

Hyunjin. He doesn’t even have to speak and he’s got you blushing. Just the way he’s looking at you, his tongue licking his pretty lips, has you dripping down your legs. The man is beautiful, sensual, and  the way he’s working with you as you work his cock, moving with your mouth and hand, makes you believe he finds sex to be about connection. You’re not entirely sure how that will play out.

Jeongin. Seems sweet and innocent, but his entire expression changes to demonic once his tip hits your throat. You’re not sure what he has in store for you, but you know it’s not going to sweet, and you find yourself imagining all sorts of scenarios with him.

Jisung is next. Confident, demanding with his cock. Mumbles “slut” a few times, and thrusts his hips erratically. He’s unpredictable, and you splutter when he pushes far too deep for you. A flicker of fear and concern crosses his features, and you get the urge to help him stay in the character he’s trying to portray. You moan enthusiastically, and he quickly recovers, fucking you without restraint.

Seungmin is last. He’s cruel with his words, and careless with his thrusts. He’s energy is cold, and you know that if you need to be punished, he’s the guy to give it to you. That is until he comes back with an oversized shirt and a tray of food, and asks you if you have any questions about the agreement.

🚨🚨🚨🚨

You sit alone in your cell and eat your dinner, wondering what the night will hold. You don’t have to wait long though, because Chan is walking towards your cell. 

“Y/n. It’s time for your interrogation with Detective Minho and Officer Seungmin.”

Fuck.

↣↣ up next, interrogation time with 2min here

↳ tag list : open

@jeonginsleftcheek @meilix @itgirlalisaa @linocz @bubblebisk @boi-bi-ahaha @frozenpeasworld @grandma143 @milkypinkmimi @bangchansbbgirl @lunearta @leefelixsslut @privhace @justforreaders @galaxycatdrawz @melochacco @jiwoos-babygirl @kavifornia

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @chuuchuu1224 @fun-fanfics @wolfennracha @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @kyunchoni @justforreaders @melochacco

[roksik-dnd]

For everyone who asked: a dialogue parser for BG3 alongside with the parsed dialogue for the newest patch. The parser is not mine, but its creator a) is amazing, b) wished to stay anonymous, and c) uploaded the parser to github - any future versions will be uploaded there first!

UPD: The parser was updated!! Now all the lines are parsed, AND there are new features like audio and dialogue tree visualisation. See below!

Patch 7 dialogue is uploaded!

If you don't want to touch the parser and just want the dialogues, make sure to download the whole "BG3 ... (1.6)" folder and keep the "styles" folder within: it is needed for the html files functionality (hide/show certain types of information as per the menu at the top, jumps when you click on [jump], color for better readability, etc). See the image below for what it should look like. The formatting was borrowed from TORcommunity with their blessing.

If you want to run the parser yourself instead of downloading my parsed files, it's easy:

run bg3dialogreader.exe, OPEN any .pak file inside of your game's '\steamapps\common\Baldurs Gate 3\Data' folder,

select your language

press ‘LOAD’, it'll create a database file with all the tags, flags, etc.

Once that is done, press ‘EXPORT all dialogs to html’, and give it a minute or two to finish.

Find the parser dialogue in ‘Dialogs’ folder. If you move the folder elsewhere, move the ‘styles’ folder as well! It contains the styles you need for the color coding and functionality to keep working!

New features:

Once you've created the database (after step three above), you can also preview the dialogue trees inside of the parser and extract only what you need:

You can also listen to the correspinding audio files by clicking the line in the right window. But to do that, as the parser tells you, you need to download and put the filed from vgmstream-win64.zip inside of the parser's main folder (restart the parser after).

You can CONVERT the bg3 dialogue to the format that the Divinity Original Sin 2's Editor understands. That way, you can view the dialogues as trees! Unlike the html files, the trees don't show ALL the relevant information, but it's much easier to orient yourself in.

To get that, you DO need to have bought and installed Larian's previous game, Divinity Original Sin 2. It comes with a tool called 'The Divinity Engine 2'. Here you can read about how to unstall and lauch it. Once you have it, you need to load/create a project. We're trying to get to the point where the tool allows you to open the Dialog Editor. Then you can Open any bg3 dialogue file you want. And in case you want it, here's an in-depth Dialog Editor tutorial. But if you simply want to know how to open the Editor, here's the gist:

Update: In order to see the names of the speakers (up to ten), you can put the _merged.lsf file inside of the "\Divinity Original Sin 2\DefEd\Data\Public\[your project's name here]\RootTemplates\_merged.lsf" file path.

Feel free to ask if you have any questions! Please let me know if you modify the parser, I'd be curious to know what you added, and will possibly add it to the google drive.

[bellaxgiornata]

You Are My Sunshine Series Masterlist

Pairing: Jax Teller x Fem!Reader [Jax Teller Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; sunshine!Reader/grumpy!Jax (somewhat), fluff, angst, friends to lovers, eventual smut, canon divergent, canon typical violence (more tags to possibly come)

Recently released from a stint in Stockton Prison with a few of the Sons, Jax is still struggling with Tara returning to Chicago over a year after he killed Agent Kohn for her. When he returned to Charming, Jax noticed a coffee shop had sprung up across the street from Teller-Morrow Automotive and the clubhouse, oddly finding himself watching the strangely cheerful owner through the windows. One night he feels drawn to step inside, but he's left even more confused when the owner feels like the embodiment of sunshine itself. Jax quickly realizes that the more he visits her shop, the more at peace he finds himself.

List of Installments

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8 {Coming Soon}

[darklordofthesimp]

Anything VI (König x Reader)

The 6th instalment in the Anything-Verse

Main Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 7

Like the characters? Read their fics below!

Sunshine Masterlist || Saint Masterlist

Series Summary:  A lack of information from the chain of command results in König mistaking you for an enemy sniper.

A/N: It’s been a while

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort || Unrequited Pining || Tension

Warning: Graphic Language

-

The sunrise had become a welcomed sight, it was always something that you craved after a night of fitful sleep. You were never well rested when you opened your eyes but, by God, were you relieved.

However, unlike the hundreds of mornings before, this time you woke up with a pit in your stomach. There was no relief and only a sense of dread as you lay staring at the ceiling. You took in a deep breath. 

The sun crept through the window, reminding you that it was the weekend and that you should be out and about. You'd done plenty of contemplation, wondering about your circumstances every day and every night for over a year. 

You weren't going to solve the mystery in one day. 

Wrong place, wrong time. 

König's words resonated in your ears like nails on a chalkboard. A shiver stroked the length of your spine and the heaviness in your stomach deepened. Since when has that monster been the point of clarity? How is it that he was the one to begin unravelling the string of tragedies you’d been subjected to? 

You sat up sharply, lobbing the blanket away from your body. 

You needed answers and you weren’t going to find them in your bedroom. 

It pained you to leave the safety of your room and it didn’t help that the hallways were colder than usual. The thin hoodie that you’d swaddled yourself in wasn’t doing much against the chill. You grimaced, pulling the fabric closer against your body. Somehow, it always felt like you were making the wrong choices, even with just clothes. 

As you approached the common room you could hear low murmuring. The voices sounded like a buzz, both familiar but one of them entirely unmistakable. His accent gripped you by the throat and you felt your stomach flutter. 

The physical effects of König lingered long after your injuries had healed. 

You stepped into the doorway with a dry throat and shaking hands. Warm light illuminated the room, a singular globe perched above the cheap dining table where two figures sat. 

The low talking came to a halt and your eyes were instantly on König. You took in the way his spine straightened, the way his fingers clenched- it was as if his body was electrified by your presence. You knew too well how it felt, bumps raised along the lengths of your arms and a chill stroked your spine. 

“Birdy,” König’s voice was barely a whisper. You said nothing, only offering a small nod of acknowledgement. 

There’d been a shift between the both of you, tangible and tense. Since your late-night escapade, things had changed- everything was different. There was something different lingering between the two of you, maybe a craving for closure or maybe misguided resentment. You were drawn to him. You needed something from König, something that would fix everything. 

You just couldn't figure out what. 

Perhaps, untangling the web of coincidences and conspiracies would tell you. 

The man took a deep breath and you watched as he forcefully relaxed his body. Those swift and deadly hands unfurled as he leaned back gently into his seat. The picture of nonchalance. 

Liar. 

“Speak of the devil.” 

You dragged your sights to König’s companion and immediately rolled your eyes. 

“Sunshine,” you ground out through clenched teeth. “Never a pleasure.” 

The sniper in question only offered you a wolfish grin, leaning back into their chair arrogantly. They were dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie that clung to their wide shoulders- accenting every inch of mass that they’d carefully built. 

You wished you could say that they were all brawn and no brain, but the irritating creature was as cunning as they were strong. 

“Oh,” Sunshine pouted mockingly, “I haven’t even begun to give you shit yet, you can���t be mad already.”

You glared at them, raising a shaking finger to point. “It’s not even 8 in the morning. Are you capable of shutting up long enough for me to get a coffee?” 

“Uh,” Sunshine pretended to think, “no. But I appreciate the gentle diplomacy. Your character development is astounding.” 

You growled harshly, storming past the snickering cretin and making your way towards the coffee machine. 

“Better buckle up, bitchy buttercup,” Sunshine tossed over their shoulder as they got up from their seat. “Apparently we got company today.” 

You didn’t get a chance to reply before they sauntered out of the room. Unfortunately, the lingering stench of their arrogance didn’t disappear with them. You huffed, smacking the button frustratedly. 

“Company?” You asked. 

“Rank from some elite company. Not sure.” Was the cautious reply. 

You angled yourself so that you had eyes on König, leaning against the bench warily. The sniper remained in his chair, he’d made no move to leave with Sunshine. It seemed he didn’t want to run from you this time and you weren’t planning your great escape just yet. The machine whirred as it dispensed your coffee and you tried to calm your heart rate. The balaclava was still on, leaving only his eyes to decipher his thoughts. 

You hated it.

“We have training this afternoon,” König murmured, dipping his gaze to his hands. 

Take it off. 

You hated when you couldn’t see his face.

“I know,” you rasped. 

Get it off. 

“Do you think you’re up to do some groundwork?” The question was tentative but you couldn’t hear it from the blood rushing in your ears. 

You hated that you were forced to look at nothing but his eyes. 

“I- Uh…” 

Just like that night. 

Get it off.

“I’m not…”

Get off.

The foam cup in your hand crunched as it fell to pieces. The sharp pain of the boiling coffee ripped you from your spiralling thoughts and had you gasping for air instead.

“Birdy!” 

König was on his feet before your name had finished leaving his mouth. Your hand pulsed from the burn, your skin red and raw. He loomed over you, his gaze running up and down your body. A horrid sound pulled from your throat. The man’s fingers were around your wrist, gentle but firm. Unyielding. 

You tugged against him lightly, your chest heaving. The bench pushed into your spine reminding you of your position, trapped between König and a dead end. 

“I’m okay,” you rasped. 

“No,” he said hoarsely, “no, I shouldn’t have pushed it-” 

You couldn’t breathe. His presence was overwhelming, it was staggering- it was all-consuming. 

“Please,” you whispered, lowering your head. Your forehead brushed the hard contour of his chest lightly and you tried to ignore the way he took in a sharp breath. You didn’t mean to touch him, you just didn’t want to look at him- not with that mask. 

You were so sick of being afraid. 

“Please, what?” König murmured, his hands hovering by your shoulders but never touching.  “What do you need, Birdy?” 

“Let me see you,” the words fell from your lips shakily, almost desperate. “The mask, take it off. Please.” 

There was a moment of silence as he processed your request then he swore under his breath. 

“I forgot,” he shook his head, “I’m so sorry. We had an agreement-” 

The words died on his tongue when you tilted your head up to look at him. You were inches apart, the staggering height difference acted like a thin barrier between the two of you. You could taste his stuttered words, you could see the blue flecks within the jade of his eyes. 

Your heart squeezed when they widened. You could hear his breathing pick up and your heart thrummed between your ribs.

You reached upward with shaky hands, the bench pressing harder than ever into your back. 

“Can I-...” Your tongue was heavy and dry like sandpaper. You swallowed thickly. 

“Of course,” König said, voice steady and eyes fixed on yours. 

Your fingers brushed the skin of his neck as you felt for the fabric. He was hot, as though his blood simmered just beneath your touch. You prayed he wouldn’t notice how you shook- you tried to pretend you couldn’t feel him trembling either. 

He was holding his breath, suspended in time like an intricate statue, carved from marble and timeless throughout the ages. A picture of sorrow and angst and stories you weren’t sure you wanted to hear. 

Your journey together had played out like a Greek tragedy. 

But, as the herculean man let you unveil him, you wondered if there could be redemption. 

You wondered if you could both be saved. 

“Well, isn’t this adorable.” 

You jumped back, stabbing pain shooting up the length of your spine like a rocket. You corked yourself against the bench, a jilted gasp ripping from your chest. König’s hand gripped your bicep, holding you upright as the other readjusted his mask.

Your body throbbed as you peered at the entrance through squinted eyes. 

Phillip Graves. 

The man offered a smarmy grin, arms crossed and leaning on the doorframe like he owned the place. 

Bile rose from your stomach to your throat, leaving your fingers scrambling for purchase on the countertop. You steadied yourself as best you could. Nothing was going to prepare you for Phillip Graves but if you could stay upright you’d have a fighting chance of getting through unscathed. 

“It’s been a while.” The Shadow Company commander raised a brow. “Heard you been havin’ a tough time, Birdy.” 

You forced yourself to stay still. König shifted beside you, his body angled in front of yours. Your mouth dried at the protectiveness in his stance, though, it also didn’t go unnoticed by the unwelcome guest. 

Graves raised a brow as he examined you both, pushing off from the door. 

“Now, who’d have thought that you’d both be so…” he pretended to deliberate on a word, “close.” 

Your eyes widened. “We’re not!” 

The urge to slap your hand over your mouth was overwhelming and red-hot shame licked your cheeks. A slow smile spread across his mouth at your desperation. You felt cornered, you felt vulnerable- Graves was the fox making his way through the coop and you were the stupid chicken standing still.

“Oh,” he chuckled, taking slow strides towards the table. “I’m sure, sweetheart.” 

You grit your teeth. 

“And you are?” König growled, his back straightening as he glared down at the smaller man. “I’m afraid I don’t recognise you.” 

You’d almost forgotten he was there. 

For the first time ever, König wasn’t the biggest threat in the room. 

Phillip sighed, unfazed by the clear hostility souring his tone. “I’m here on a task, just thought I’d check in on our injured soldiers.” He paused, deliberating. “Well, that really just leaves us with you.” 

Anger flooded your system as Graves turned on his heel, stretching his arms over his head. He sauntered towards the exit, snickering beneath his breath. “How lovely to see you’re on the mend. Adios.” 

“Yeah, not so broken anymore,” you snapped, unable to stop the words from spilling out. You didn’t want to antagonize him but you also were fully aware that you sounded like an angry high schooler.

“No!” Phillip laughed, offering you a sidelong glance as he paused. “Big boy really did a number on you though. I gotta be honest, I’m surprised you pulled through.” 

You wanted to throw the coffee machine at his head and, judging by the way König’s fists clenched, he did too. 

“It’ll take more than that to kill me,” you ground out through your teeth.

The smile wavered on Grave’s lips and he watched you closely for a long moment. “Noted.” 

Your stomach dropped. 

When he turned around again, you planned to let him leave with the last word. He could take the small win and you’d leave with nothing but churning nausea and anxiety. Graves wasn’t worth the stress, in the grand scheme of things he was insignificant.

Though, the parting words thrown over his shoulder made you question that statement. 

“On that note, General Shephard sends his regards.” 

Graves disappeared into the corridor, taking the last tether to your sanity with him. 

____

“I think something is wrong,” you huffed as you smacked the door open. 

Saint raised a brow, throwing their hands up flippantly. “Oh no,” they rolled their eyes, “please just barge into my office unannounced with vaguely ominous statements.” 

They chucked their phone onto their notebook, crossing their arms when you closed the door behind you. They were irritated and unsettled, it was an unusual mood for the Doctor but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

“This is literally your job,” you sniped, dropping into your designated chair. 

Saint’s jaw dropped. “No, it fucking isn’t!” 

“Listen!” You exclaimed with pleading eyes.  The doctor's mouth closed, resigning to form a displeased scowl instead of words. You knew that Saint hated surprises, that’s where appointments and bookings kept them in control and prepared for the incoming onslaught of issues. 

But this was too urgent to wait for your next meeting. 

“I’m spiralling,” you gasped, running your hand over your face.

“Birdy, I’m sure-“ 

“I think the accident was a set-up.” 

Any words that Saint conjured had guttered out and died. Your hands shook on your face, palms pressed into your cheeks. 

Their eyes flit around the room as if scanning for spyware. You held your breath as the Doctor took a deep one in. 

“Birdy,” they said slowly, leaning their elbows onto their knees. “Are you sure?” 

“Something is wrong, Saint,” you whispered. 

“But,” they raised a brow, “are you sure?”

Your lips trembled and your eyes burned. 

“Yes,” you shuddered. Saint leaned back with a rush of air slipping from their lips. You could see the cogs and gears in their head working to make sense of it, you could see their hesitance to believe you. 

You wouldn’t believe you either, you supposed. Not with your… history. The scars on your face burned at the thought. But, for the first time in a long time, you were confident that you were right.

If you were right it meant that König and yourself were pawns in somebody else’s games. 

It meant that your own people had done this to you. 

It meant that somebody wanted you dead. 

[kabr0ztrousers]

Timid incubus dude who was raised by humans is in for a rude awakening when an experienced incubus abducts him from his college campus and shows him the very monster he is inside! The incubus that grew up thinking he was entirely human refuses the truth, but the experienced one won't take no for an answer. He ties his new protege to his bed and has his fun with him >:) he'll learn to love it.

Its extra fun when the timid guy discovers that their kind can change their dick size and cum amount at will.

Kabr0z Writes episode 64: Inheritance

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: giving fellatio; death mention; drugs mention; alcohol use; transformation;

A/N: I'm gonna localise this a little to the UK, because that's just a little better for my head 😁 So when you see references to uni, just know it's the same phase of higher education.

At least freshers are still freshers

##########################################

Sunday evening. So ends Freshers week. What for most students is the deadline-free week of house parties, heavy drinking and mild debauchery, you spent mostly indoors. You'd made a couple of friends, and did go to one party even if you left early, but overall it was quiet and almost solitary.

It sucks.

You'd planned on maybe hitting one of the local student bars, or even seeing if you could pick someone up at a party one of your societies hosted. Hell, you'd even installed a dating app to find an anonymous cock to suck. The problem is any time you started trying to make progress, your nerve abandoned you and you gave up. You sighed, sitting on your bed and opening your laptop, another evening spent with your dick in your hand. Who knows, when lectures start tomorrow you might find something, or at least someone who could be a bad enough influence on you that you follow through on your fantasies...

Another sigh. You've depressed yourself now. You can't even muster the will to fuck yourself, let alone try and convince anyone else to fuck you. You opened your Steam account and shared at your library, searching for that perfect game that would take your mind off things.

You had a friend request.

Not unusual, you'd given your Steam name to a lot of people over the last 7 days, but you thought they'd all added you already. You shrugged and accepted.

A message.

"Come to the SU"

Normally you'd ignore that, but...

You were already dressed, and you were just bemoaning how you didn't do anything this last week, and there is normally something going on there... Fuck it. You tucked your semi-hard cock back into your jeans, zipped yourself up and slipped on some trainers. Before you could say "be right there" you were halfway across campus, bound for adventure.

The Students Union was possibly the newest building on campus, glass-fronted, chic exposed steel members, with the cheapest bar in town clinging onto the side of it. You joined the line of students waiting to get in, mostly first years, but with some second and third years in the mix, chatting amongst established groups. You stood alone, the balmy duck air on your bare forearms. You weren't the only one in jeans and a band tee, but '80s heavy metal sure isn't the zeitgeist here.

Your phone buzzed, a message from an unknown number "come to the back door"

You raised an eyebrow. You hadn't given your number away, but someone has it. You stepped out of line and started walking around the building. The back door was ajar, a shaft of light in the settling gloom. A look left, right, you stepped in.

Heat hit you. You screwed your eyes against the gust. Dry enough to make your hair frizz and... Sulphurous? You opened your eyes carefully. They were acclimatising to the wind easily. You weren't even sweating.

You were in an office. Not the back of a bar. You could see out of windows overlooking a cityscape in varying tones of Martian dust, rusty and dull.

"Got my messages then? Good."

You looked to your right, against one of the two walls not completely glazed was a drinks cabinet, and a tall thin man in a tailored pinstripe suit with slick back hair pouring amber liquid into two glasses. "Brandy?"

You nodded. The hand that preferred the glass was long-fingered, each one sporting an inch-long razor-sharp nail. You looked at the besuited man, his too-angular face, his black-on-black eyes, his small chrome horns.

"You're a demon" you said, almost to yourself

The demon smiled, "As are you. Though your father didn't want you to know until you were ready. Your twentieth birthday."

You took the glass, setting it carefully down on a coaster as the demon continued "He was discorporated to a permanent end recently, just before your creation actually. I am Ezekiel Harkens of Harkens, Harkness, Darkness and Sphinx. For the past few millennia we've been your family's solicitors, and now it is my bittersweet duty to advise you that you are in fact Baron Agrastax of the black runes. Not technically a laughing mourner, but close enough seeing as you never met your birth parents."

Your mouth gaped as the demon in front of you babbled legalese at you "There's a mistake, my parents are Bill and Martha, they're alive and well, up in Southampton! I'm not a demon, not even a little bit"

Ezekiel handed you a letter and a black iron letter opener. You looked at him as he regarded you, opening the letter. The envelope was empty. "What?"

"That's your proof there, were you a human, a cambion, or even just not the true heir that dagger would be buried in your heart right now."

You still didn't believe it. Demons lie, that's what they do. You're not religious, but you know that.

"You're early anyway. I'm eighteen."

He looked at you "No, you'd been around for two years before we placed you into a stillbirth. Martha lost the baby at eight months, and begged anyone who would listen for a miracle. We obliged. Here's your body now." He passed you a mirror. A young man who looked just like you was lay on the floor behind a bar, a paramedic doing half-hearted CPR as his partner tried to comfort a sobbing girl wrapped in a mylar blanket "She sold her soul to have her baby boy, she didn't say for how long."

The mirror blackened, turning to ash in your hands, swept away by the draft. You should be sad, shouldn't you? You swept your hand through your hair. You felt a pair of horns. "I'm a demon?"

"Yes," he was sat behind his desk now, sipping his brandy "technically an incubus like your father, though that's just taxonomy, the noble title is what matters here."

So you're not just a demon, you're a sex demon? That wasn't on your bingo card.

"Now, there's just one stipulation on the will that I really do need to handle with you" The demon finished his drink, motioning for you to do the same "I need to make sure you're capable of adequately discharging your duties as a minor Baron of Hell"

You swallowed your drink in a single swig. You wished you hadn't, it was good brandy "And what kind of duties would I have?"

"That's the beauty of it" the demon purred, a foxlike grin splitting his features, wider than a human could grin, revealing far too many teeth "Demons of your station have very few duties. You need to remain fighting fit just in case the Blessed come down to try and murder us all, but beyond that it's mostly just about throwing fantastic parties. Of course, when I say parties..."

He was behind you now

"I mean orgies"

He grabbed the hem of your shirt and threw it over your head. You stood, and your jeans stayed where they were, disrobing you in moments as the lawyer in front of you opened his trousers with a gesture.

You paused. As much as it's kinda fucked up to get railed by a demonic lawyer you've literally just met, this felt right. Like a virtuoso approaching a piano, a prodigy picking up a violin. Either that, or the roofies they have in Hell are off the charts.

You took Ezekiel's hands, taking them off his crotch as you knelt in front of him

"I've wanted to do this for years, now fuck my face" you smiled up at him "your Baron commands you"

Ezekiel grinned, grabbing your hair in both hands, "Gladly, my Lord" he tugged your hair a little, taking advantage of your gasp of surprise to stuff his semi-hard cock in your mouth.

You licked and sucked that cock like there was no tomorrow. It tasted like cinnamon and allspice in your mouth, warming and sweet. Ezekiel kept pulling on your hair as you bobbed on the rapidly hardening phallus, varying angle and how hard you sucked on it, hearing what made him groan the loudest, what made the fists clench your hair harder. It hurt a little, but that was part of the fun.

Your mind flickered, thinking a moment about how some people would get their tongues bifurcated to better do this kind of thing. You found yourself wishing you had that. Something felt strange in your mouth, a pressure inside your tongue. Ezekiel pulled his cock out of your mouth long enough for you to touch it. Two tips met your fingers, soft and semi-rough, human, but better.

You stuck it out, wrapping the twin tips of your tongue around the head of Ezekiel's cock and drawing it back in. Two was better than one, you used your new tongue to its fullest, rubbing it over the sensitive parts of his cock as he moaned and buried himself balls-deep into your throat. His cum tasted sweet, and salty, and very alcoholic. You could feel it burning down your throat like vodka, warming you when it hit your stomach in a sticky glob.

You pulled away, wiping your mouth on the back of your hand. Wetness coated your thigh where thin precum had leaked out of your cock. Your smiled up at Ezekiel "How'd I do?"

He smiled back, one cruel-clawed hand squeezed your face "We're not done yet, let's try that tight asshole next"

He lifted you up, bending you over his desk and pressing his cock between your asscheeks, the tip poised at the hole. You imagined yourself lubing up your ass, and felt as a warm wetness spread around your hole, letting him slide into you.

His claws dug into your hips, not drawing blood, but enough you could feel each and every point as they dug into your soft skin. He fucked like a jackhammer, fast and deep, never breaking rhythm. Your cock was leaking more and more, a steady stream of pre flowing from your tip as you went knock-kneed from the cock rubbing mercilessly against your prostate. He squeezed you, those claws digging in a little more. You threw your head back as your soft cock leaked out cum, thick and flowing in a long rope from the tip of your cock. Ezekiel held his hand under the flowing cum-tap and caught some, bringing it up to your mouth. You licked it off him, tasting your own seed

"You don't ever have to stop leaking if you don't want. It's a little gauche, but you're nobility, it'll catch on"

That sounds like a fashion statement you can pioneer. You focused on the feeling of the cum flowing from you, willing it to intensify, to keep going. It felt good. Your balls stopped aching and descended to their normal resting position, but still a thin stream of white fluid flowed down from you. It wasn't as intense as cumming from being fucked up the ass, but it's a nice buzz

Ezekiel pulled you into him, burying himself in you as he grabbed your cock, jerking it off as he fucked you in small intensely deep movements. Your cum stream thickened and sprayed as he brought you off a third time. Your hole clenched around him as he moaned and you felt hot cum filling you from behind.

"Can I change anything else?" You gasped, you should be spent but you felt like you could keep going forever

"You're made of belief and willpower, to you, physics is a suggestion. Right now, long nails and metal bones are in vogue, but you can be anything you can envision"

You focused on your cock, willing it to grow large and flared, the cum thickening as your plumbing got wider, as your balls swelled up with ever more virile seed

"Bend over. It's my turn"

Being Baron was going to be great.

#####################################

Well, I dozed off before publishing this one so it's going up in the morning. Regular scheduled programming resumes this evening

[chvoswxtch]

an adjustment

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: adjusting to a new normal with frank presents a few challenges, including one you thought you had put to rest.

warnings: swearing, lil angst, frank's voice (yes that needs a warning)

word count: 2.6k

a/n: a certain someone is making a cameo that will have a bigger role in the next chapter, but y'all know I love to tease. ;) as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[previous chapter] | [next chapter] | [series masterlist]

As much as the two of you wanted to stay in the cozy little bubble that existed in his cabin, reality had come knocking. Madani informed you that your place was no longer an active crime scene decorated in bodies, bullets, and blood, and Billy needed Frank for a new assignment. Some guy running for Senator had a lot of controversial opinions that pissed a bunch of people off and apparently warranted 24/7 security, and Anvil was at the top of his list for protection. Since Frank was the best at what he did, unfortunately he was at the top of that list too. Adjusting to a new normal had been…well…just that; an adjustment.

A difficult, confusing, thought consuming adjustment.

For over half of the past year, Frank had been by your side. You started and ended every single day with him. The sudden absence of his presence was jarring, and you still found yourself immediately confused when you glanced up from your computer screen to tell him something only to realize he wasn’t there. Frank didn’t always talk a whole lot, but your office suddenly felt so much more quiet and empty without him. And despite a full blown security system installed by him on your behalf, it was hard for you to feel safe in your own home with the lingering scars of what had happened etched into the walls beneath a layer of new paint. 

Frank called you at least once every day, just to hear your voice, but between both of your complicated schedules, time was not in your favor. You had spent the past three weeks adapting to Frank’s vacancy, but found yourself spiraling anytime you were left alone with your own thoughts. What if this was over before it had even really started? What if it wasn't anything anyway? There hadn’t been a moment for you and Frank to sit down and actually talk about what your relationship was since the cabin. You know what it meant to you, and you knew what you wanted it to mean to him, but you wanted to hear what it meant to him from his own mouth. 

A part of you felt childish for wanting to bring it up. What were you supposed to do? Send him a text saying “are you my boyfriend, check yes or no”? Another part of you felt valid in needing reassurance. It was reasonable to want to establish a relationship with someone you were dating. But were you and Frank dating? He hadn’t technically asked you out on an actual date, but he had risked his life to save yours on several occasions. That had to count for something. You hadn’t dated anyone seriously since Steven, and Frank was not only a widower, but also your former bodyguard, so the normal rules of dating felt like they had been completely thrown out the window.

A knock at the door abruptly pulled you out of your chaotically indecisive inner monologue, and you saw a guy that appeared to be fresh out of high school standing in the doorway of your office.

“You Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Uh yeah, that’s me. How can I help you?”

The kid took a few steps forward into your office and practically shoved a sealed brown envelope in your face. He looked bored and annoyed, as if you were somehow inconveniencing him because he had to deliver something to you. It made you want to make a snide comment about how your name was clearly listed outside your office door and ask how the hell he managed to graduate without the ability to read. 

“This is for you.”

Reaching for the envelope, your brows pinched together as you turned it over. There was nothing written on the front of it, no address, no name, not even a stamp.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know, lady. I’m just the messenger. Open it and find out.”

Before you could reply with a smartass comment, the kid had already walked out of your office, leaving you alone with the mysterious brown envelope. Clenching your jaw, you refrained from chasing him down the hall and asking who the hell raised him. Letting out a deep exhale through your nose, you had to remind yourself that you were a grown woman that would face charges for decking a teenager, even if he was legal and a complete dick.

“Asshole.”

Muttering under your breath, you pinched the aluminum prongs together on the seal, flipping the top of the envelope open to reach inside and pull out a stack of documents. When you turned them over, five big bold letters instantly caught your attention.

LETTER OF INTENT TO SUE.

During your time as a journalist, people had threatened to sue you over stories several times. It came with the territory. The first time you had gotten a letter like this, you nearly had a complete meltdown. Ben had found it far more amusing than you did, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin on his face while sipping at his coffee and chuckling.

“Ah, I remember my first lawsuit letter. You get used to ‘em. You can either frame that one or forward that to the uh legal department. It’s in the blue recycling bin outside.”

And he had been right. People had tried to sue the paper, and you specifically, several times over the course of your career, but nothing ever actually went anywhere. You normally wouldn’t have thought twice about it, and you were about to toss it into the trash bin on the floor next to your desk when your eyes skimmed over who sent the letter, and your blood instantly began to sizzle.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Steven fucking Price.

Gritting your teeth harshly, you narrowed your eyes as you read over the first paragraph on the page.

This letter of intent to sue shall hereby be considered formal notice that STEVEN PRICE intends to file a lawsuit against you if you do not comply with the settlement demands set out in this letter.

The storm of anger brewing inside you had your hands shaking violently, and you were clutching onto the paper in your hands so tightly that your fingernails had left indents in the crinkled sides that were held captive in your vice grip. When Homeland took him away in custody, you thought that was the last you would ever have to deal with him or see him until the trial. But here he was, still making demands of you, from federal prison. 

Frank’s gruff voice sounded on the other end of the line after one ring before you even realized you had called him.

“He’s fucking suing me.”

“What? Who?”

“Steven.”

There was a brief shuffling noise on the other end of the line, and you faintly heard Frank mutter an “excuse me” before his deep baritone sounded once again in your ear.

“The hell you mean he’s suin’ you?”

“Some kid came and dropped off an envelope, who was a real dick by the way, and then I opened it and saw it’s a letter of intent to sue. I didn’t think anything of it at first because I get these all the time, but then I saw his fucking name.”

“Suin’ you for what though?”

Tossing the documents onto your desk, you began to pace back and forth in your office as you ran your hand through the roots of your hair in pure frustration.

“I don’t fucking know, a load of bullshit? I didn’t even read what his ‘demands’ were. He can’t…he can’t do that, right? I didn’t do anything.”

Pausing for a second, your hysterical rant subsided momentarily as one possible reason for a lawsuit popped into your head.

“I mean…I did punch him in the face. But he’s going to sue me for that? There’s no fucking way. Putting it on public record that a girl half his size punched him? His ego couldn’t handle it.”

“You did break his nose.”

“He fucking deserved it, I should’ve broken more.”

Frank’s deep chuckle of amusement sounded from the other end of the line, and it instantly made you forget what you were so pissed about for a brief moment.

“I ain’t disagreein’ with you there. Look, take a deep breath, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?”

Letting out a deep exhale through your nose, you closed your eyes for a moment and enjoyed the soft tone of Frank’s rough voice as you followed his gentle instruction. With your eyes closed, it was almost like he was there with you. Once Frank could hear your breathing even out a bit on the other end of the line, he spoke in a delicately low tone that had your toes curling in your shoes.

“Attagirl. Send me the letter and I’ll talk to Madani ‘bout it, yeah?”

“I don’t even have a lawyer-”

“Don’t worry ‘bout that right now, alright? Just take another deep breath, relax, and let me handle it.”

“You’re always handling things.”

“That’s kinda my job, baby.”

One little pet name and you were blushing like a schoolgirl with her first crush. Thankfully Frank wasn’t in your office at that moment to see the intense heat in your cheeks and the goofy smile splitting your lips. He would’ve definitely had a field day teasing you about it.

“You’re pretty good at your job. Maybe a little too good. If you were kinda sucky at it, everyone wouldn’t want you so bad.”

“The only one I want bad is you.”

A fluttering feeling erupted in your lower belly at those words, coupled with the way his voice had dropped an impossible octave lower, and you found yourself clutching at the edge of your desk to keep your knees from giving out right from under you. If Frank was here, you would’ve gladly let him bend you over it.

Clearing your throat, you attempted to change the subject before you got too worked up. 

“How’s the new guy?”

Grabbing the iced coffee sitting on your desk, you held it against the heated skin of your neck. Droplets of the cool condensation slowly cascaded down your flesh, causing you to shiver while trying to balance your internal temperature.

“Not as pretty as you.”

Letting out a soft snort, you rolled your eyes and leaned back against the edge of your desk.

“Well I would hope not.”

Frank chuckled deeply again, and you could clearly picture the look on his face in your mind; an expression of playful exasperation with a faint smirk on the edge of his soft lips.

“He’s more of a pain in the ass than you. Didn’t think that was possible.”

“You’re really great at this whole flirting thing, you know that?”

The dry sarcasm in your voice didn’t go unnoticed by Frank, and it tore a deeper laugh from low within his chest that made you grin.

“Hey, I been outta practice for a while. Gimme a break.”

“Speaking of flirting, how’s Billy?”

“He’s uh…he’s good.”

Something about Frank’s tone suddenly seemed off, and you wanted to ask him about it, but there was a faint rustling on the other end of the line, like Frank was pressing the speaker against his chest, and you could barely make out his muffled voice speaking to someone. When he lifted his phone back to his ear, you caught the end of a deep sigh.

“Listen I uh…I gotta go, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, me too.”

That was a lie. You didn’t have anything pressing deadlines at the moment. You would’ve stayed on the phone for the rest of the day with Frank if you could’ve, maybe convinced him to sneak away and come see you. He was still in New York, luckily, but anywhere that wasn’t right next to you was still too far. 

“Send me the letter. I’ll talk to Madani and take care of it, alright?”

“Okay. I…thank you.”

“You ain’t gotta thank me.”

“You keep saying that, but then you keep giving me reasons to. So, we can have this argument until eventually you give up I guess.”

Frank chuckled deeply once more, and you could picture him in your mind shaking his head with a light grin. He sounded normal again, but you made a mental note to ask him about what was really going on when you spoke to him next.

“Same time tomorrow then, yeah?”

»»———　　———««

According to Madani, Steven didn’t have a case, and you technically had nothing to worry about. However, you were admittedly curious about what the hell he wanted, and Frank had said that if you did want to go talk to Steven, he would go with you. Actually, he respectfully insisted that you not see Steven without him present, and while you didn’t want to see Steven at all, you did want to see Frank.

You suffered through almost three years with Steven. You could suffer another five minutes if it meant you got to spend time with Frank.

It wasn’t your first time visiting a prison. A few years ago when you were still working with Ben, he had been interviewing a death row inmate that had been declaring innocence for fifteen years, and Ben had managed to prove that the evidence for his case had been tampered with and that the man had been telling the truth the entire time. Despite how daunting it felt to be in a place that kept violent people caged like animals, you felt safe with Ben then, much like you did with Frank now.

Currently, you were pacing back and forth down the hallway in pure irritation.

“What is taking so long?”

Frank had his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall outside of the meeting room that was typically reserved for inmates and their lawyers. The guard had said he would bring Steven in shortly, but that was twenty minutes ago. Since Frank had met you at the prison, and due to all the prying eyes, you hadn’t had a private moment to do more than smile at him when he arrived. It was the first time you were able to see him in person in three and a half weeks, and he somehow looked even more attractive than he ever had, and you were being forced to endure an interaction with your ex, who tried to have you killed, just to get Frank alone.

It was torture.

“Told ‘em we’re waitin’ on your lawyer.”

Pausing mid-step, you glanced over at Frank with a look of complete puzzlement.

“I don’t have a lawyer, I told you that.”

As Frank turned his head to look at you, he suddenly lifted his gaze to stare directly above your head as someone behind you caught his eye. He stood up straight and uncrossed his arms as he gestured with his chin in the direction behind you.

“You do now.”

With your brows knit in threads of confusion towards the center of your forehead, a light tapping sound behind you caused your ears to perk up, and you turned your head to find the source of the noise and Frank’s attention.

“Miss Y/L/N, my name is Matthew Murdock. I’m your attorney.”

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

[notfreetoday]

WOWOW on Demand Sign Up Tutorial

Hello, I am back (?)

Quick tutorial in case anyone wants to sign up (and later cancel) for a WOWOW on Demand account in order to watch Justice in the Dark when it airs at midnight JST on the 7th of March (aka Thursday night going into Friday morning).

Under the cut to reduce spam!

Before you start, please know that whilst you will sign up on the website, you will only be able to watch the shows using the phone app itself, because the website blocks VPNs.

You will need:

The ability to install the WOWOW on demand apk on your android phone (for iPhone users, it's available on the Jp app store, but I can't help beyond that)

A VPN (I used surfshark)

Access to a JP phone number (I used the number given on my forwarding service)

A credit card

2530 JPY per month (JITD is expected to end sometime in June 2025)

STEP 1: Set your VPN to Japan, go to the WOWOW website as shown, and click on the blue tab circled in orange

STEP 2: This just informs you that the service costs 2530 JPY/mth. Click the blue tab again.

STEP 3: Key in your email and click the button to receive a 4-digit OTP (it will be the first and only string of 4 digits you see in the mail). Major email domains should work.

STEP 4: You should receive the OTP within 3-5mins. If you don't receive the email, check your junk folder etc I lost patience after 2 mins and clicked the button 😅

STEP 5: This is all pretty self-explanatory. Don't ask me to translate the T&C/privacy agreement because I didn't read it either 😬

Congratulations! You have successfully created a WOWOW Online account (this is the normal account which lets you watch free videos/livestreams for eg, Spirealm Ep 1 is free to watch for now).

Next, you want to create a WOWOW on Demand account, which is the service that will give you access to JITD, the rest of Spirealm episodes, and if you are in Japan with a BS Cable subscription, the ability to watch and record WOWOW shows on your TV.

STEP 6: FINALLY we get to the most important bit, so of course I forgot to screencap it. For your Surname and First name, you will need to type it in Japanese text, so go ahead and google translate your name. For the phone number, I used the number from my Jp forwarding service (tenso), but I did try again by changing a few numbers, and it actually went through to step 4 so... if you don't have a forwarding service, you could try random numbers following the 03-1234-5678 format? Don't quote me on that.

Click the blue button at the bottom (which I accidentally cropped out) to move on.

STEP 7: A confirmation window will pop up, keep clicking the blue button...

STEP 8: Almost there. Ignore all the blue buttons and choose the credit card payment option.

STEP 9: Scroll down and key in your credit card details (doesn't have to be Japanese), agree to the service agreement and then hit the blue button again. You will not be charged yet.

STEP 10: Confirm you really do want to spend 2530 JPY x per mth (which for JITD would be 3 months = 7590 JPY = USD$50) and click the blue button again. Your CC will be charged here.

Congrats! You're done (and broke)! Now, using your log in details, log on to the app and search 光淵 or こうえん (you will need to use your VPN on your phone too)

HOW TO CANCEL WOWOW

You will be able to watch shows for one month from that date your subscription was charged. Ie, if charged on the 3rd of July, and you cancelled on the 31st of July, you would be able to access WOWOW on demand till the 2nd of August (1 month from the 3rd of July). Hence, please remember to cancel a few days before your subscription is charged, just in case the application takes a few days to be processed.

STEP 1: Log in and go to My WOWOW

STEP 2: You'll be brought to your profile page, choose the 2nd option from the left (right next to the word TOP)

STEP 3: Look for the 解約 button

STEP 4: Look for the same word, and confirm cancellation

That's it! (When july comes, if there are extra steps required, I'll post a follow up 😅

Happy watching everyone!

[brimbrimbrimbrim]

A Ruined Ratio (Muse/Sculptor!Reader) pt.1

🖤A Ruined Ratio 1/7 🖤

Muse x F!Sculptor!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+) Word Count: 2.3k Warnings: Sexual Awakening, Rough Sex, Knifeplay, Cumplay, Sexual Tension, Voyeruism, Bloodplay, Blood & Gore, Dubious Consent, Violence, Choking, Light BDSM, Toxic Relationship, Branding/Marking, Stalking, Multiple Orgasms, Vaginal Fingering, Yonic Symbolism, Liberal use of Artistic Rhetoric. Genre: Dark Romance / Horror / PWP

Part 2

Summary: As a celebrated sculptor spiraling into creative stagnation, you strive to capture some sense of soul after stumbling upon one of Muse's violent, gruesome art installations. Muse thinks you're derivative but not without potential. He just has to strip you down to a blank slate first.

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The studio smells like home, a faint thread of something acrid rising from the heater vents that haven’t been cleaned in months. Your hands tremble as you peel off your coat, nape damp with a rain-sweat sheen you didn’t realize had settled there until the draft caught it.

That fucking gallery show. Too bright. Too many voices.

Your jaw still aches from all the polite smiling. There’s pressure behind your left eye, thudding in time with the headache blooming across your temple. You didn’t eat enough. Didn’t drink enough either… not until the end, when you escaped the critical crowd to suck down a rum and coke near the bar, hidden in a pocket of shadows like a subway rat.

Now, home, away from it all, you step over scattered drop cloths on the concrete floors, unleveled by the building’s age: an old factory floor planned into penthouse-style apartments that never saw completion before the development company went belly up.

You stand at your kitchen counter, overlooking the living room with its rug rolled out into the mouth of the studio space, rubbing your elbows without thinking. The pressure of your arms crossed under your chest, hands rubbing the bony bend of each arm, brings comfort, cleaning away a memory. Sylvan’s hand had lingered too long on that very spot earlier—fingers slick with desperation as he complimented your ‘chaste subject matter’ and how your sculptures ‘speak of a purity that’s tragically absent in most female-centric art.’ As if you're a female artist first and foremost, never just an artist…

You wanted to punch his teeth down his throat… Instead, you gave him a smile that felt like a paper cut, thin and stinging, and moved to the other side of the gallery. He followed anyway. Sylvan never misses an opening and never leaves you alone…

Of course, they all said the same thing with different words, like ‘brevity of womanly empowerment’ and ‘rebellious innocence,’ and they all got different faux smiles in return. You’re playing it safe these days. Conservative, even. Chaste, comes that word again, whispering near your ear, too close, the breath of it tracing your neckline. You barely managed not to tear and yank your nerves from your throat.

Thankfully, you’ve always had this place—this sanctuary where the insulation was stripped to bone and brick, purchased when you were still hungry, still raw from the academy. It was a shell then—beautiful in its emptiness. A void begging to be filled. Now, it’s cluttered with your ambitions. Sculptures half-finished. Some crouch in corners like oppressed animals, others stretch toward the exposed beams overhead, tongues of wire and clay gathering dust. But the majority of them glare at you like virginal effigies that would be happier if you’d just go fuck yourself instead of birthing them into existence. 

You hate all of them. And they hate back. 

You take a sip of the cherry juice and seltzer you poured when you got home—flat and syrupy now, still a promise of a good night’s rest—and let your eyes drift to the loft windows that take up the entire northeast corner from floor to ceiling. No curtains. Never needed them. No one to look in from the condemned warehouse across your building where the subway beneath makes the bones of it moan every day at noon sharp.

Sirens start up in the distance. It’s routine around this time as well. White noise. They’re like pigeons here—circling, crying, always feeding on something. You used to flinch at them. Used to double-check the locks. Now, you sip your tart drink and think maybe someone should come . Take the sculptures. Smash them. Take you. Soil you. Anything to undo what you’ve done to yourself. Perhaps then, once ruined, your art—your very self—would have some meaning.

The sirens grow louder—urgent now. Your gaze lifts from your drink to the window. The color of the red-blue reflections doesn’t fade; it grows. Ear-splitting sirens merge with the wobble of ambulances. You step to the window, mason jar sweating in your grip. Curiosity piqued. 

Outside, the street is bathed in chaos. Flashing lights. Pedestrians being shoved aside by pigs in uniforms, each of them shouting for different reasons. A bright yellow tape ripples in a cop's hand, wrapping around rusted parking meters and tacked to a brick wall.

Gunshots. Not distant. You hear them with the crispness of immediacy, and it startles something awake in your chest. That was close. Your eyes dart to the rooftops blackened under light-polluted skies, and it could be a trick of an over-exhausted mind, but you swear there’s a figure bobbing—running—against that dark backdrop of the city skyline… away from pursuers. 

‘Get them out of here!’

Below, cops are pulling a human shape from the scene, assisting paramedics haul it onto a gurney. You look back into the depths of your studio, finding several sheet-covered statues lying in the darkness, more alive now than that body below, similarly covered in alabaster white.

Someone shouts, and your gaze trails back through the window to the scene below. There’s something on the pavement that catches the headlights: red and glossy, half a word. Too greasy to be anything but the material of violence.

The sight should repulse. Instead, it pulls you closer as though hypnotized. That word chaste rings in your ears again as your eyes widen on the crime scene.

You press your hand to the cold pane, breath fogging the glass. The implication of a dead body—its burning of monotony, its heat—somehow centers you. The horror of it threads down your throat and settles in your lower stomach as a slow, trembling ache.

It’s not innocent . It’s hunger—hungry .

You inhale slowly, unevenly. Down on the street, the sirens begin to fade. The crowd gradually disperses. You watch until the last flashing light turns the corner, the last echo of rubber tires vanishing into the dark. Only then do you turn back to your studio.

You don’t bother changing out of your dress—just tug an oversized hoodie over your head. The hem nearly swallows up the pinstripe skirt—casting an allusion of wearing nothing but the hoodie—but you don’t care. The modest black heels get kicked into a corner as your heart skips. You slide into boots with crusted clay and dried paint on the toes.

Outside, the concrete is slick from oil leaks, damp from the rain that hadn’t had time to dry before nightfall. A smell lingers—something you think you noticed when you arrived home, but can’t be sure—burned rubber, faint metal, something… astringent like a perfumed musk.

The alley below your window is still choked off with yellow tape, but you need to see it up close. Not from behind glass. Inside it. You press your fingers into the pockets of the hoodie, hunching forward as you step beneath the police tape, its edge damp and snagging on your shoulder like a wet ribbon.

The moment you step into the decorated alley, the noise of the city relaxes. No honking. No sirens or screams. Just your own breath, catching when your eyes lock on the dining table.

It’s long—absurdly long for this space, claustrophobic against the alley walls. A sheet of linen clings to its warped length, soaked through in the center where something dead may have been, leaving behind a spattering blush of browns and blacks dried into dark textures like brushstrokes. The bloodstains are still moist in the middle, weighing down the fabric to the wood beneath it. Fingerprints—partial, frantic—dot the end of the tablecloth where someone must have clutched it, making sure it was even on either end. 

You take a step further within, feeling much like a vulture picking apart roadkill. Your gaze travels up the table to the chair at the head. It’s been pulled out at an angle, and you wonder if that was intentional or left by a cop with no eye for design. Closer now, you see there’s a smudge of red on the seat cushion. You can almost picture it—the slump of a body, its fluids settling with gravity, leaving behind something like a blotter stamp.

A sound. A clatter above. Ice down your spine, a supine rattle of panic. You whip yourself around to the noise, staring at the steel bones of a fire escape. One of the platforms sways just an inch, just enough to supply the terrible thought that someone is watching… or was, and yet—

Your hands clench in your pockets. You feel everything. Sensory input condensed like a star between your eyes, projecting a funnel of undulating gleam. Exhaustion, just tired—or drugged somehow. But you're not, and you blink and blink until you see it—a $100 bill, folded once, torn at the edge, and stuck to the brick wall. It's soaked through, crinkled from blood, dried into the grout line. 

Tacked newspaper clippings are plastered above like graffiti, some curled at the edges, others nailed down by force. Headlines run jagged as torn thoughts: 

TAX BILL PASSES — HOMELESS DISPLACED . CORPORATE PROFITS HIT RECORD HIGH . CONTRACTS FUNNELED TO DEFENSE INDUSTRY . ART FUNDING SLASHED FOR THIRD YEAR IN A ROW.

You picture crime scene cleanup crews cataloguing the remaining cash as they did the body parts left behind, snapping pictures of everything, especially the news clippings. But that bill, its unsubtle symbolism, almost more so than the headlines completes it—makes the alleyway feel like a perverted banquet hall fit for an oligarch. This, the critic says, is what artists spend their whole lives searching for: true meaning.

Another groan of steel resounds above, amplified by the narrow space. This time, you hug yourself, fingers worrying your elbow through thick fleece,e and ignore it. You're too dialed in on the art now.

Your stomach turns. Sure. But not from nausea, from something that twists hot and slow under your ribs. Your cheeks burn. You’re sweating under the hoodie. Between your legs, a pinpoint awareness throbs. It's arousal , though your body doesn't remember that feeling, so you call it thrill, excitement, inspiration, and lick your lips twice. 

You shift your thighs where they’ve started to stick together beneath the dress. The blood... the violence… the message—the art of it makes you want to—

Your phone buzzes, a dissonant hum in your pocket that breaks the hypnotic hush. You don’t want to look, but the spell is broken and reality demands you look.

Sylvan: I was passing by and saw the lights on in your studio. Late night, huh? Let's have dinner sometime, talk about your next series. I think there’s something special in your future. I want to be part of it. We can go over the numbers then. 

You read it once, then again, your thumb hovering over the screen like it might burn you. His words are soaked in the same syrup he dripped all over you at the show— “I believe in your message , I see something rare . We should spend more time together.” 

You know exactly what Sylvan wants, what that look in his eyes meant when he praised your restricted philosophy, how his voice got low when he said your work presented “so much beauty unspoilt.”

He doesn’t want your art. He wants your body. He wants to crawl inside you, fuck you, wear you like greasepaint, get off on the idea of sullying you—squirting his name all over you until its his, leaving you nothing but last season's art trend. But what else are any of them meant to think when you've spent years showing them falsehoods groped together with clay?

You shove the phone back into your pocket, ashamed of the reputation you’ve spent over a decade forming. Something odious and dishonest, nothing like…

"Nothing like this…" you whisper.

You step forward, heel dragging over the cracks in the pavement where blood still pools in stiff, black globs. You move slowly, circling the table, breathing in the rot and the faint scent of something aromatic—expensive. Cologne maybe. Maybe whoever did this wore it, or maybe the victim did. Either way, it lingers, delicate and predatory .

You stop beside the head chair.

Your chest is tight. You feel light-headed again, as if overloaded by sensory detail: the smells, the feel of the air in temperature and weight, the edges of everything hyperrealized. Your skin is on fire, but your fingers feel cold. You grip the edge of the table and look down at the blood-stained linen, the trail of red fingerprints, and feel someone watching you partake.

You swallow. There’s a pulse in your ears. Something flickers in your chest.

This… this is art. Not slipped, carved, baked clay. This is flesh and passion. This is something stripped bare to pentirsi layers, offering previously unseen details unappreciated by the uniforms that dismantled it. But you're here now, you see it. .. smudged within the image as a coffee stain in a sketchbook. 

You smile as the fire escape sways, metal bones screeching beneath heavy steps. The cold licks your legs beneath the dress, but someone's breath warms your nape, gushing through cotton fleece to bare skin where fine hairs rise above gooseflesh. You’re soaked in something deep as a threadbare exhale titters over your shoulder—too hot to be real. 

You’re not alone anymore. 

The artist is here, maybe , pressed into your back, fused to your spine, reaching under the hoodie one-handed to hold the flutters to your abdominal wall where they want to dig out and fly away. You cramp, or the hand squeezes and something in you—some endlessly regurgitating thing —finally matches the phantasmal breath heaving down your collar...

“Eyes open, finally... Tragic how long you chose to stay blind.”

Check it on AO3 HERE

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Of Cupcakes and Skulls | Part 6

(A/N) This is a bit on the shorter side, but I honestly struggled with the description of the bakery. I hope that it's good enough that ya'll can paint a picture in your mind.

Pairing: single dad! Mafia! Simon x baker! Reader

Warning: kissies, fluff, angst, comfort, Simon is fucking smitten

Synopsis: Based on this post by @lunamoonbby

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Simon chuckled quietly as he watched you stare at your shop. Your eyes were wide and your jaw hung open as he gently maneuvered you so he could get out of the car and pull you along with him. And once you were outside, you could see the entire storefront.

You didn’t know what detail to focus on first as you took in the changes that happened overnight. Until now, it had been a generic and rather boring exterior, something you always wanted, but never had the money to change. But now…it was beautiful.

The storefront was freshly painted in a dark green color, with metal accents decorating the usual plaster wall and a canopy overhead. The windows were sparkling in the sun, offering an easy view into the warm interior of the bakery, brimming with new furniture and counters. There were flowers everywhere, outside and inside, decorating and offering a sweet scent as you stepped closer. Additionally to the tables and chairs inside, there were a few scattered outside, in an area that was fenced off by wooden planters, and filled with tiny trees. Heaters hanging on the wall overhead, for the colder months.

You glanced back at Simon, who just smiled and gestured for you to walk inside. So you did.

As soon as you opened the door, a pleasant jingle rang through the air and the smell of the wood furniture filled your nose. You took a few more steps, hearing Simon following you inside, as you looked around. It felt warm and cozy, everything you ever hoped your bakery would feel like.

There were multiple showcases for your bread and pastries, as well as a whole nook for coffee and tea making, with brand-new machinery and cups. Just looking at everything, you knew it must’ve cost thousands of pounds. When you turned to look at Simon again, he was leaning against the wall next to the doorway that led to the kitchen. With a nod of his head, you walked through the revolving doors and entered…heaven.

You had already been happy with the equipment you had before, but now the room was filled with state-of-the-art machinery. Whether the giant mixer or the dishwasher, everything was brand new and extremely expensive. You knew that because you regularly gazed at them on the website, dreaming of the day you could afford them. And now you had them.

Suddenly, two strong, warm arms wrapped around you, pulling you against a hard chest. You relaxed against it, your eyes still flickering from one corner to the other, taking everything in.

“The windows are bulletproof, with multiple layers so they should be able to resist almost anything. And the door is a security door, it will lock automatically at a time you set and can only be opened by a combination of a key and code you have to enter into a keypad that’s beside the doorframe. I also went ahead and had the best alarm system installed, as well as cameras in the shop that are wired to the security firm, as well as to my people. If we see anything suspicious, we’ll be here within minutes.”

You turned around in his arms, wrapping yours around his waist, resting your chin on his chest as you peered up at him. He smiled down at you, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of the nose, before he straightened back up and spun you around, slowly walking you to the walk-in fridge. His grip on you tightened as he felt you tense up at the sight.

“We installed a new one.”

He was whispering in your ear, hot breath faning over your cheek.

“It almost functions more like a panic room than like a fridge. It can only be locked from the inside. The controls are also inside, so if something like last night ever happens again, they can’t play around with those. Also…”

He stopped in front of the door and opened it, gently leading you inside, where he pointed to a corner that was void of any shelves.

“This is a latch that leads into an actual panic room. Once inside, it locks down, and nothing except for maybe a nuclear bomb will be able to get in there. It’s outfitted with screens that show what’s going on up here, a landline, and a burner phone, as well as a bed and enough food and water to last three people two weeks. It has everything you could need in case anything happens. And as soon as it locks down, there will be an alert sent to my phone, as well to the phones of all of my employees.”

He spun you around again, gently cradling your face in his hands.

“Like I said, I won’t let anything happen to you. No matter where you are.”

You nodded, a soft smile on your face as he carefully wiped away the few tears that were running down your face. It had been so long since you felt so loved. Still, smiling, you watched as Simon slowly leaned down, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips ghosted over yours.

“Boss?”

Thanks to your proximity, you heard and felt him sigh, clearly annoyed, as he slowly pulled back, before he glanced toward the entrance to the kitchen. There was a tall, blonde man, clad in a dark suit. He glanced at you, before focusing on Simon.

“What is it, Graves?”

Simon’s arms remained around you as he glares at the man who just interrupted you two. The blonde man obviously felt uncomfortable as he kept glancing between the two of you before he finally spoke up.

“A call for you. It’s urgent.”

Simon nodded, pecking your lips before he pulled away and walked to the man, whispering a quick ‘I’m sorry’ as he was leaving. You just smiled as you watched him go, taking the opportunity to look around by yourself. You peeked into all the cabinets and every corner, finding new, amazing, and really expensive utensils. Even the cutlery was new, replaced by a set that had been designed by one of your favorite chefs.

The more you looked around, the more your fingers started to itch, wanting to try everything out. You walked to the wall, where you had installed a hook to hold your apron, and were pleasantly surprised when you saw that it was more or less the only thing that remained of your old bakery. As you were about to pull it on, Simon interrupted, clearing his throat as he leaned against the wall next to the swinging door that led into the kitchen.

“What are you doing?”

He looked at you, amusement swimming in his eyes. But you just shrugged.

“Bake something. I really want to try everything out.”

With a chuckle, he crossed the distance between you two, wrapping you up in his arms again.

“May I ask…with what ingredients?”

That’s when you finally realized that he was right. There was nothing here you could use to make something. Not even flour.

As you stood there, surprised and still, Simon squeezed you tightly, before taking your apron and hanging it on the hook.

“Come, that’s our next stop.”

Please consider reblogging and following me! It helps a lot!

Call of Duty - Masterlist

Master-Masterlist

Tags: @lunamoonbby @distinguishedprincesstrash @xanvasy @reader-1290 (thought you might like to be tagged, if not just let me know!)

Like what you're reading? Buy me a coffee!

[itacats]

Operation 141: The Family Business

FT: TF141 x gn!reader - Mafia AU

Warnings: mafia themes, kidnapping/abduction, obsessive behaviors, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

A/N: In a decaying warehouse, you find yourself trapped and terrified as Devon’s obsession spirals into madness. In this gripping installment, the line between sanity and madness blurs as you fight for survival against a relentless fate.

Read Part 1 Read Part 2 Read Part 3 Read Part 5 Read Part 6 Read Part 7 Read Part 8 Read Part 9 Read Part 10

Part 4: Clues Unseen

The warehouse was a cavernous, decaying relic from another time. Its vast interior was cloaked in darkness, interrupted only by beams of pale moonlight filtering through shattered windows high above. Dust hung thick in the air, stirring with each of Devon’s agitated steps. His boots scraped across the cold concrete, the sound echoing in the silence like a death knell.

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat loud in your ears as you huddled in a corner, knees drawn tightly to your chest. The damp chill of the floor seeped through your clothes, but the terror gripping you from within was far colder. The flickering remnants of a single, exposed bulb swung lazily overhead, casting jagged shadows that stretched and twisted like the bars of a prison.

Devon, the man you had once passed without a second glance at the bar, now stalked the space between the walls of your captivity. His face was gaunt, haunted by an obsession you hadn't seen—couldn’t have seen—until it was too late. He muttered to himself as he paced, his voice rising and falling like the tide, but each word slithered into your skin, wrapping tighter and tighter around your fear.

"You’ll see," he hissed, his eyes wild as they flicked toward you, though you avoided his gaze. "They don’t care like I do. None of them do." His hand jerked in a wide, erratic gesture toward the empty space, as if your friends were there, as if their absence confirmed everything he believed. "You and I are meant to be together!"

His voice cracked on the last word, a twisted mix of pleading and menace. It was the sound of someone who had long ago slipped past the edge of sanity, and now, only desperation remained. He stopped pacing, his breath coming in shallow bursts, his eyes narrowing as he stared at you.

Curled up in the corner, your body trembled uncontrollably. The taste of salt stung your lips as bitter tears slid down your cheeks, but you made no effort to wipe them away. You were too afraid to move, too terrified that even the slightest motion would provoke him, shatter the thin barrier between you and whatever madness lay inside him. 

Your thoughts spiraled, clinging to anything that could pull you out of this nightmare. The sounds of the bar, the low murmur of voices, the clinking of glasses, and the warmth of laughter played in your mind. You could almost hear it, the echoes of your life before this nightmare, of safety. Soap cracking another joke at Ghost's expense, Price offering his gruff words of wisdom, Gaz shooting you a knowing grin from across the bar. They were so close, just on the other side of this living nightmare. 

But now, there was only Devon, and his delusions.

"You don’t get it, do you?" His voice dropped to a whisper, almost tender, as he moved closer, crouching in front of you. His hand reached out, fingers brushing against your arm, and you flinched, shrinking away from his touch. His eyes darkened at that, and his grip tightened, bruising. "You’ll learn. I’ll make you understand. I’m all you need. No one else will come for you."

His words sent fresh waves of panic through you, the reality of your situation crashing down like a tidal wave. You were alone in this rotting tomb he trapped you in, far from the safety of your world, and the people you had relied on—people who might not even know you were gone yet. You closed your eyes, desperately trying to block out Devon’s face, his voice, the reality that was becoming harder to escape.

Meanwhile, outside, the world moved on. But for you, time had warped into an endless loop of fear and survival.

Devon rose to his feet, satisfied, for now, that his twisted words had sunk in. He resumed his pacing, mumbling to himself about destiny, about fate, while your mind raced in circles, searching for some escape, any escape. 

Every creak in the warehouse felt like a scream in your ears. Every shuffle of his boots across the floor was a reminder that no matter how far gone Devon was, he was real. The iron door that sealed you inside this forgotten place was real. The chains that bound you here, though invisible, were real.

You couldn’t stop the tears now. You couldn’t stop the fear that kept you frozen in place. All you could do was hope—hope that somewhere out there, someone had noticed you were missing. Hope that your friends, the ones who had become your family, had already begun to search. 

And somewhere, deep down, hope that they were close enough to save you before it was too late.

Read Part 5

In the tense atmosphere of the 141’s HQ, determination ignites as Ghost uncovers a vital clue about your captor. With every second ticking away, the team gears up for a relentless search through the city’s shadows, driven by a promise to bring you home. As they navigate a web of danger and deception, will they uncover the truth in time, or will the darkness consume you both?

Tag List:

@strawberryrnilk

@rafaelacallinybbay

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[constellation-em]

Being a Mandalorian on Din's Ship

Oh yeah, and you're secretly in love with each other.

While you don’t believe in keeping the helmet on as part of the Creed, you still do so as a sign of respect for Din. 

It took you guys approximately three months to stop calling each other Mando or “Hey you!”

You installed a radio in the cockpit, but Din only wants to listen to orchestra music. The radio was suspiciously broken within a week, and you definitely have no idea what happened to it. Definitely. 

You have nicknames to call each other in public. You call him Mando, and he calls you Scout. 

Sometimes when you’re in really busy markets, he’ll grab onto your arm to keep you from getting swept away. He knows that realistically you won’t, because you’re a strong warrior, but he worries anyway. 

Din doesn’t know when his birthday is (and doesn’t care), so you picked a day to celebrate. 

Knowing full well the importance of gifting weapons in Mandalorian culture, (they often accompany a marriage proposal), you bought Din a new blaster for his birthday. He got weird and quiet for a few days, and then presented you with a beskar necklace with his signet on it. While your helmet covers your face, you’re sure he knows you were crying. 

You’ll often sit in complete silence for hours at a time in the cockpit, especially when in hyperspace. 

Speaking of hyperspace, it gets cold as balls when you’re travelling in it. One time when Din noticed how cold you were he grabbed an extra cape of his and wrapped it around your shoulders. 

Sometimes you catch him staring at you, but he claims he’s looking out a side window. You know better. If he was just looking out the window, why did he whip his head back forward as soon as you looked at him?

He knows you don’t like wearing your helmet 24/7, so sometimes he tells you when he’ll be in his room so you can have time with it off. You’re not used to wearing it so much and it’s started giving you headaches. 

One time when you were at a cafe chasing a bounty, someone started hitting on you very aggressively. You lied to the guy and said you had a boyfriend, to which he replied that he bet he “could treat you so much better than him”. Din appeared practically out of nowhere, told the man “I doubt that.” and just walked away arm in arm with you. You held on to eachother the entire walk back to the ship. You didn’t get the bounty that day, and you never talked about that moment. 

You’ve noticed that sometimes when you step into the cockpit, if his helmet is off he’s started taking a little bit longer to put it back on. As if he’s inching himself closer to showing you his face. You’re too afraid to ask. 

You’ve never seen his face, but he’s seen yours once; the day you met. He told you about his belief in the Creed, and you replied that if you were going to live on his ship, you would live by his tenants. He seemed surprised by that, but later told you he respects you strongly for it. 

You grew up Mandalorian, just not in as strict a covert as his. You were never bound to cover your face, and you were not a foundling. That being said, you’ve come to appreciate the power behind a united force of just being “Mando” to strangers. 

Your contract was initially for only six months, but when your time was up you just… kept working and living on the ship. You never talked about extending it, it was just unsaid that you would continue being there. 

[r3dcam3llias]

How to Download Our Life: Beginnings and Always Mods

(a step-by-step guide!)

If you've ever wanted to download extra content for OLBA but were unsure how or where to even start, this post will hopefully explain everything you need to know!

What you will need:

Our Life: Beginnings and Always

RPA extractor

Latest version of Python

RPA repack tool

1. Finding mods.

As far as I'm aware, there are very few people who make OLBA mods, but if you do happen to come across someone who makes mods/script edits and would like to download them, you'll likely end up with files with the end extension ".rpy" or ".rpyc" Because the software used to make OLBA is Ren'py, these are ren'py script files that basically contain the script that runs the mod and official script files. (Note: Some mods that don't just simply add onto/edit/add more scenes may also include other important resource files (images, sounds etc...) and might be formatted in a ".zip" file. I'll cover how to unzip and use those as well.)

2. Find your game files.

First of all, before you do anything with your .zip or .rpy/.rpyc file(s) you're going to need to find your copy of your OLBA game's files. For Steam, you should be able to open the Steam app on your computer, navigate to your library, right-click your copy of OLBA, select "properties", navigate to the "Installed Files" tab, and click the "Browse" button.

For a direct download of the game such as from Itch.io, you should just be able to navigate to wherever you downloaded your game and find the same results. You should see your game files now like the picture below.

3. Finding/extracting the RPA file.

Now, you are going to want to navigate to the "game" folder inside the OLBA folder. Here you should find these files:

(Note: depending on whether you have the DLC or not, you may or may not have the DLC files. I do not have the Baxter or Derek DLC so I don't have those files here.) These files are basically all the .rpy/rpyc files, along with images, sounds and all other resources for the game, compressed into single files. So, in order to add our modded files, we will need to extract whichever RPA file pertains to the mod. For example, archive.rpa contains all the scripts, etc from the main game. The rest should just be DLC, so if you have a mod that only affects the main game, you will only need to extract that file. The same works if it is a mod that only affects a DLC; you will only need to extract that respective DLC file.

To do this, you can either download this RPA extractor or find your own and follow its steps. For this tutorial, we will be following the steps of the RPA extractor provided. Once you have downloaded the RPA extractor, drag the .RPA file you want to extract out of the OLBA folder, into a new folder, then drag and drop it onto the RPA extractor icon (shown below)

This should open a new Command window where the .rpa file will be extracted. You should end with something like this:

(for this example I extracted the step 3 DLC RPA file)

Now you should have a new folder containing all the .rpy and resource files you need.

4. What to do with modded .rpy/.rpyc and/or .zip files?

If the mod you downloaded just came with the files not zipped, you can skip this first part. Otherwise, you will need to unzip this zipped folder. To do this, you can either just right-click the zipped file and click "Extract All" and "Extract" when a new window pops up.

Alternatively, you can use a program such as 7-zip, which may help extract speeds for large files. Now, you should have, or already have your modded .rpa files on hand (finally!) Normally, if these files are editing preexisting material from the game or adding new scenes, at least one file, if not all of them will have the SAME EXACT file name as an already existing file. In this case, BEFORE YOU DO ANYTHING go into the folder(s) you got earlier by extracting the .rpa file(s) and look for the file(s) with the same name(s) as your modded .rpy/.rpyc file(s) and either make a copy or move them somewhere safe in case something is wrong with your modded files/you no longer want the modded files, you can put the original files back in. Once you have done this, you are going to drag the modded files directly into the folder(s) you got earlier by extracting the .rpa file(s). MAKE SURE YOU PUT THEM IN THE CORRECT FOLDERS AND EITHER OVERWRITE THE ORIGINAL FILES OR MAKE SURE THEY HAVE BEEN REMOVED.

If there are any other files, such as sounds or images or .rpy/rpyc files, feel free to just make another folder to put these in.

5. Repacking the RPA file.

Now these next steps can get really complicated, so I'll break them down into smaller steps. 1.) Download the RPA repack tool (make sure to unzip it) and the latest version of Python if you haven't already.

2.) Inside the unzipped "rpa-master" folder you'll find another folder of the same name. Inside this folder all you need is the "rpatool" file. Take this file and move it into a new folder completely outside of the "rpa-master" folder, name this folder whatever you want, it doesn't matter. (EXAMPLE BELOW)

3.) Now take the folder(s) you got from extracting the .rpa file earlier or created and put them in this new folder. (EXAMPLE BELOW)

4.) Type "cmd" into the path while in the folder with both of these.

5.) Now, a command prompt window should pop up, type in this:

 py rpatool -c

followed by the name of the .rpa file you want to make and the name of the folder(s) you are repacking separated by a space for each. (EXAMPLE BELOW)

6.) Depending on the size of your file it might take some time, but once you see the .rpa file appear in the folder, you're all done! It should look something like this:

Now, all that's left to do is put that .rpa file into the game folder with the rest of the .rpa files !! After that you can test it out and your mods should now work!

As always if you have any questions or need help doing this yourself, feel free to contact me or submit an ask!

[forgetmenotseason]

‘My husband was killed in front of my eyes’: Elderly survivors recall crimes of Ukrainian occupation in Kursk Region

Residents of Kazachya Loknya recount their experiences of living under Ukrainian occupation

Russian forces recently liberated around 30 settlements in Kursk Region, where Ukrainian forces had looted stores, stolen vehicles, and, according to witnesses who spoke to RT, killed civilians. Residents from Kazachya Loknya have recounted their experiences following several months under occupation by the Ukrainian army.

One local woman told RT that her husband had been murdered in cold blood by Ukrainian troops. Another was forced to abandon her home.

Both still find it difficult to comprehend how they survived the brutal occupation.

Daily struggles and threats

“When the Ukrainians entered Kazachya Loknya, they began firing randomly. Two people were killed near the store. And when they retreated, they set many houses ablaze. It was absolute hell,” Tatyana Ivanenko, 64, said.

”We slept on the floor in our neighbors’ hallway; I was afraid to sleep in my bed. All our windows were blown out, and we boarded them up after every shelling to block out the cold. Ukrainian forces distributed food rations once every two months, and we fetched water from a well,” she recounted.

According to Ivanenko, Ukrainian forces took control of Kazachya Loknya on the night of August 7, 2024.

”My daughter called me the morning before it happened – she lived with her family in Sudzha – and pleaded with me to leave for Kursk. I told her, ‘They’ll fire some shots, and it will calm down.’ But the next morning, stepping onto my porch, I heard Ukrainian voices and saw soldiers with blue armbands. I realized the Nazis had reached our village, and it was too late to flee,” Tatyana said.

Looting, violence, and fear

She described how, once established, Ukrainian forces turned to looting and violence.

”Our neighbor Artem, who used to work for the Ministry of Emergency Situations, had his tire shop completely stripped clean. Grocery stores were broken into and robbed. Thankfully, we had some canned preserves,” she said.

“Another neighbor’s car was stolen after Ukrainian troops broke into his house. One soldier threatened him, saying, ‘I’m a convict; I killed my father and seven others, and I can shoot you easily.’ He put a rifle to my neighbor’s head and took his keys.”

Two people Ivanenko knew personally were killed by the Ukrainians. “When the occupation first began, my neighbor went to church and never returned. Ukrainian soldiers shot him on his way,” she recalled. “Another neighbor was killed by a drone strike right outside his gate while fetching firewood. After that, we were terrified to step outside.”

In December, Tatyana was forced to leave her home after Ukrainian soldiers installed electronic warfare equipment directly in her yard. “They set up a large device with rotating antennas and hid in our cellar to avoid airstrikes,” she explained. Shells repeatedly struck her house, leaving it partially destroyed.

Evacuation and reunion

Tatyana currently lives in a temporary shelter in Kursk alongside her grandchildren, her daughter Olga, and her son-in-law. She was evacuated to a safe zone following the liberation of Kazachya Loknya by Russian troops.

”Thank God we’re all safe. I thought I’d never see my family again,” she said.

Her daughter Olga described seeing her mother in a YouTube video posted by Ukrainian soldiers in January 2025.

”They filmed civilians in the village. My mom appeared, crying and worried about our survival. That was how we discovered she was alive,” Olga explained. “When our military finally let me talk to my mom, I screamed and cried – I hadn’t heard her voice in seven months. Seeing her alive, despite her frail and exhausted condition, brought me to my knees.”

Death, survival, and uncertain future

Valentina Poleshchuk’s husband was killed by the Ukrainians shortly after they invaded Kursk Region.

”We lived in Kubatkin, and on August 8, we drove to Kazachya Loknya to assess the situation,” Valentina said. “I was sitting in the back seat when they opened fire. Bullets hit our tires first, forcing the car to stop, then another round came in.”

“My husband was hit first in his right arm, then a second bullet struck his neck, killing him instantly,” she recalled. “I lay in the back seat covered in blood and shattered glass for about an hour before managing to escape.”

Valentina found shelter with friends in Kazachya Loknya during the occupation. “We were freezing and starving, but we survived until our troops came,” she said. Now, Valentina stays with her daughter Galina.

”My children took me into their rented home. I need to resolve the paperwork concerning my husband’s death and decide what to do with the house. Who would have imagined losing everything at this age? My husband was murdered, and our home destroyed. I used to weigh 80 kg, and now I’m down to just 40 kg. The horror of what I’ve experienced is beyond words,” she said.