#you know when hyperfixations knock at your door there is nothing you can do

[chiosblog]

The Imola gp is here, literally a train away from me, and i want so desperately to be there but im also not obsessed enough to spend 200+ bucks to sit uncomfortably in one place among milions of other people under the rain to watch expensive cars run ....so me sad 😔

i was there literally not even a month ago (and liked it a lot) but the idea that so many beautiful cars (and pilots too lol) are there, so close, is making me go feral

[notiddygothgf]

SEX IS FREE (her)

★ pairings: nanami kento x f! reader

★ synopsis: In the search for solace, Nanami stumbles right into the arms of an exotic dancer. In the search for money, an exotic dancer finds more than she bargained for. In the heat of the moment, a contractual relationship turns into something more. (or; the one where sugar daddy!nanami is sweet on his girl)

★ c.w.: nanami being sexy asf, suggestive content, mentions of sex (more content warnings and tags)

★ a/n: HIIIIII omg so i can explain the hiatus lol.... it was totally unintentional. i wound up getting super depressed over school and then fell into a chainsaw man hyperfixation (read shameless, its an aki ff i wrote youll love it). I FINALLY PICKED THIS STORY UP AGAIN because for some reason it's been getting a lot of attention recently??? lol anyway! your comments inspired me to continue writing it (though i cant promise that i'll update quickly, i AM a full time student so #bepatientwithme).

I was salivating over Nanami in this chapter if you couldnt tell lol.... but enjoy!!! keep those comments coming! who knows, maybe i have another chapter stored away and will update a little earlier....... x

★ w.c.; 5.6k

my kinda love; chapter index

‘AND I’M BAD LIKE THE BARBIE. I’m a doll, but I still wanna party,’

“Donnie, baby, you in there?”

“Yeah!” You called back, loud enough for your coworker to hear through the door. You pressed the tube of red lipstick against your bottom lip, peering into the mirror, filling in the outline you had done in black. When you didn’t receive an immediate answer, you continued humming along to the song playing quietly from your phone. “Pink vette like I’m ready to bend. ‘Imma ten so I’m pullin a ken, likeee.”

Your coworker entered the dressing room – you were the only one there. Most of the other girls from the afternoon shift had gone home already. 

“Some dude wants to rent you,” She told you. 

“No. I don’t do private rooms,” You replied without even looking back. You knew who she was. You weren’t the biggest fan. “I’m good, Mandy.”

“He asked specifically for you,” She added. “Offered a lotta money, too. Helluva lot more than we normally charge.”

You froze up at that. Initially, your first thought was to send her off a second time. Then, you thought of her running off with your money. 

“Is he one of them greasy, sleazy old guys?” You asked. It was wild, how quickly you perked up when you heard that. “Last guy was throwin’ himself onto me. I should’ve filed a police report.”

“Oh, stop your ‘bitchin,” The girl sighed. “He’s paying 200 just to see your ass.”

If you had a tail, it would have started wagging. 

What? A girl had bills to pay. “So he is a greasy old pervert.”

“No, actually. He’s a fine, young thing. Well, not young, but younger than most of the guys we usually get back here,” She trailed off in thought. You watched her body move in the corner of the mirror. “Sexy as hell. Serious, businessman type. Tall, blond, handsome, a jawline that could cut paper,” here, she bent over, leaning over you and muttering the next words into your ear, “I could always take him off your hands, y’know.”

“As if,” You replied. Spinning the chair back around, you got up. “Better not be expecting nothing extravagant. I’m considering this overtime.”

With a deep breath, standing in front of the cherry red door, your heart began to pound against you chest. It was some strange mixture of nerves and excitement you felt as you raised your hand to knock. 

Here goes nothing. You reached for the doorknob and entered the private room, turning back only to lock it behind you. 

“Special delivery!” you crooned, trying to embody a playful tone to mask the jittery feeling within. When you turned around to face the client, you were caught by surprise. 

Your wide eyes traced over a familiar silhouette – broad shoulders, perfectly-fitted, navy blue two-piece suit that clung to his large arms, and matching slacks that clung to his legs – his widespread, casual position hinted at sophistication. A pretty, sharp, angular face framed by neatly-cropped blond hair. A tasteful timepiece on his wrist caught your eye. 

Narrow eyes obscured by peculiar glasses, chiseled cheekbones and jawline. His blond hair – framing his apricot skin – was done up carefully, perfectly, sweeping over his head like a ray of sunlight. You recognized him by his signature scowl.

He came back for more?

You liked your lips, trying to play it cool (like you hadn’t been waiting for him to come back). “Oh, hey, it’s you again,” you said with a smirk. Strutting over to him, you cooed, “Couldn’t stay away?”

He’s so fucking hot.

Though his response wasn’t verbal, the pink hue that dusted his face was not lost on you. You swayed your hips from side to side. “Can you give me somethin’ to work with? I don’t usually do these rooms, you know.”

The devastatingly handsome man swallowed, fixing his gaze on the door – the one you had locked on the way in. As you worked your way between his legs, teasingly dragging your hands up and down your body, his gaze wandered back to you. Shamelessly, you reveled in the attention – studying his reaction.

You could smell his cologne from here – again – and, shit, it made your head spin all over again. The warm notes lingered beneath the collar of his dress shirt. Amber. Wood. Musk. Something dark?

“So I’ve heard,” The man replied, finally breaking his silence. His voice was a revelation – deep, mellow, and smooth, carrying a certain tone of weariness that seemed to add to his enigmatic charm. Charm? Yes, you supposed he charmed you.

He loosened his tie and undid the top button on his shirt to let some fresh air in. The action drew your attention to his neck, provoking you to take a moment to appreciate the details your coworker had emphasized: Tall, blond, with a jawline that could indeed cut paper.

You were wretched. You had to have been. This is so wrong.

“You seem tense,” You remark, making your second attempt at breaking the ice. “You’re new to the scene, aren’t you?”

The handsome stranger – Nanami, if you remembered correctly – licked his lips, drawing mindless shapes over the deep-toned fabric that covered his knee. “Is it that obvious?” he asks, a faint smile playing on his lips.

The movement did not go unnoticed.

“A little,” You huffed out a quiet laugh. “Do you want a dance? We could just sit and chat, too, if you want. I don’t mind. I know your type tend’ta like talking.”

You couldn’t control the way your eyes flitted down over his toned thighs – mind hazy with unwelcome thoughts. The temptation to crawl into his lap a second time was strong, but you reminded yourself of the situation – he was your roommate’s teacher, for fuck’s sake. Your roommate’s handsome… muscular… expensive-looking teacher… with a deep, sexy voice that you could hardly resist.

You must have been ovulating. That was the only excuse.

“I won’t make you put on a show for me,” Nobara’s professor trailed off, eyes distant, clearly lost in thought. He seemed to snap out of it after a moment, pretty brown eyes peering into yours – they looked so dark up close. “As crazy as it sounds, I only wanted to speak to you.”

Your sultry facade cracked a bit at that, surprised by the sudden turn of the conversation. From your experience, men usually came here with only one thing in mind. He wanted to talk… to you. Oh my god.

You nearly squealed. Clearing your throat and pressing your legs together, you turned to hide your flustered face from the older man. “Alright,” you said. “You have 30 minutes.”  Plopping down on the couch next to him, you threw your legs over his lap. “What’s your name, handsome stranger?”

You already knew his name. Still, to keep up appearances, you played coy with him. You knew that, reasonably, there was no reason you should be continuing to entertain him — financial commpensation aside, though you could always reimburse him. You should have turned back the moment you realized it was him.

Then again… he had come to see you. It wasn’t like he knew you were his student’s roommate, but that was besides the point. That alone was moral justification enough for you.

The stiff man had his eyes trained on the spot where your legs had been thrown haphazardly over his. Then, nervously, he answered, “Nanami. Kento.”

Kento. You liked that name. It rolled off the tongue real easy — a buttery smooth name for a man as composed as him.

“Nice to meet you Nanami… Kento,” You chipped, mimicking his prose. “Donetta DiVine. I’m sure you already knew that, though. Do you wanna start, or should I?”

Nanami Kento knitted his brows. “Start…?”

You rolled your eyes rather playfully, giving his leg a nudge with your heel. You had ditched the stage platforms for a smaller pair of stilettos. “What do you do for a living?” 

He licked his lips. After a brief pause, he answered, “I can’t really say, but I teach on the side.”

“Ooh— mysterious…” You grinned. Leaning into the couch, you braced your chin on your hand, staring into his eyes. It didn’t take much effort to play the role of the ‘interested’ siren like it normally did. Not with him. “You already know what I do,” You added, “You look tired.”

His brown eyes widened with surprise.

Shit, I overstepped.

You took your statement back quickly, “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, it’s not—“ He trailed off. Something in his harsh expression softened. “You’re right. Just the first person to notice.”

If your attraction to the man had been any more obvious, you would’ve been waving a sign around with his name on it.

“Really? You’ve got such tired eyes,” You continued anyway. You figured you would at least try to make the most of this half hour with him. “Wanna talk about it?”

He sighed, “Where would I even begin?”

“Your week?” You answered, making a rolling gesture with your spare hand. “How… how was it?”

He looked equal parts confused and intrigued by you, quirking a perfecftly arched brow before clearing his throat. “My week was alright. I started work again after taking a leave of absence for a few months.”

“No kidding…” You trailed off. It didn’t take much to make your interested tone seem real, as you felt nothing but the most genuine sense of interest while listening to him drone on in that deep, raspy voice of his. You could have listened to it for hours. “What happened?”

Something flashed in his eyes. It was quick, fleeting – you almost missed it. “Workplace injury,” He sighed. “If it’s alright, I’d rather not go into detail about it.”

This guy’s like a brick wall.

“Did you heal up okay?” You asked, eyes wide and prying.

He didn’t seem to mind you much. That was a good sign.

“Had to undergo some minor surgery but, yes, I’m fine. Thank you for asking,” He smiled, actually smiled, and it made your chest stir with something unfamiliar. He was devastatingly handsome – the kind of handsome you kept in a little locket in your pocket when you went to war, or something like that. “My bosses have been pressuring me to come back ever since I left. One superior of mine in particular… has been a nuisance. I was under the impression that sick leave was supposed to be a period of peace… but I guess I thought wrong.”

You laughed at his attempt at humor. It came easily to you. Too easily. “I know how you feel. I busted my ass a few months ago. Twisted my ankle real bad,” You raised your leg off of his lap, twirling your stiletto heel around in the air, cutting through it like a knife. “These things are deadly. Boss gave me a solid two days before he started blowing up my phone asking when I was going to be back. It’s like… can you let me live?”

He laughed, then – really laughed, the kind that made his chest rumble, head thrown back against the cushiony couch. And as he released the melodious sound that made your head spin, his eyes creased at the corners. The experience gap between the two you couldn’t have been more apparent. He was a grown man, hardened by years of trials and tribulations – a mysterious one, at that. And there you were, a naive little dancer with your legs strewn over his lap like he was a partner and not a client. He seemed so wise beyond his years, something only accentuated by the tiredness in his eyes. You longed to hear him drone on about his life a little longer, 30 minutes be damned.

“My superior and I actually went to highschool together. He’s been up my ass as long as I can remember,” He hummed, licking his lips, and you followed the path of his tongue as it wet the skin like a hungry feline.

“Which superior?” You asked, mindlessly picking at the fabric of the velour couch beneath you. “The one you were here with last time? With the white hair?”

When the man knit his brows together, you froze up. Shit. I just gave myself away.

There was a brief, tense pause, during which you tried to focus on the music playing from the speakers, the jazzy tune, the faint remnants of a song playing in the showroom outside and up the hall, the wallpaper – anything but him. 

“Yes, that would be him,” He answered, finally. He seemed to be… intrigued by you. Yes, that’s what it was – his half-lidded amber gaze lingered on your face for a moment too long. “You’re very perceptive.”

You cleared your throat. “So, this job of yours… do you like it?”

“I despise it,” He sighed, like he had been waiting his entire life to confess those words. “But, at least, I figure I’m doing something meaningful with my life. You could say I’m a professor on the side.”

I already know that, You thought. Still, he didn’t have to know you knew.

“It’s a demanding job, but I enjoy feeling like I’ve made a difference,” He continued on. “Unfortunately, after the incident, I had to take some time away from the kids to recover.”

“You seem to enjoy teaching,” You answered back, perching your chin on your hand against the back of the couch. 

“Sometimes,” He replied. “Other times, the work can be unbearable,” He looked up, then, pretty brown eyes on yours in a way that had your heart skipping more than a couple of beats. You could practically feel the way they burned right through your extroverted facade, saw past the layers of glitter and scanty clothes and deep into the abyss in your chest. See who you really were. 

It was him who turned to you, then, asking you, “What about you?”

“Me?” You asked, just to make sure you’d heard him correctly. A client? Caring about your experience at work? That was… dizzyingly rare. 

“Yes, you,” He reiterated with the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. “Do you enjoy working here?”

Do I…? You took a moment to consider your answer. You could lie to him – preserve the perfect, sexual image the women in your company were expected to uphold. That was always an option. But, the moment you peered into those all-knowing, tired eyes of his, you found that you didn’t have it in you to lie to him. No, not when he had been so honest with you.

No one’s ever asked me that before.

Before you could catch yourself, the words were already leaving your lips. “Not really, but it pays the bills.”

His eyes softened at that. He didn’t look the least bit upset by your words. If anything, he looked as if he had grown suddenly tender with a sense of understanding. Women didn’t often join your line of work. Not unless they were desperate for money. He seemed mature enough to realize that – to see right past the fantasy you were supposed to paint for him and peer into your eyes like windows into your soul. One look at him, and you knew he didn’t see you as a dancer.

He saw you as a person. As a woman.

You broke the moment with a hum, “Why don’t you keep telling me about your week?” You asked, changing the subject, shifting the conversation back into comfortable territory.

The rest of the half-hour with Nanami flew by like a fleeting dream. He spoke with a quiet ease, his voice low and steady, yet somehow captivating. He complained about the inefficiencies at work—endless meetings that led nowhere, piles of paperwork that seemed to multiply overnight, and colleagues who turned simple tasks into impossible challenges. Yet, when he talked about his students, something in his tone softened, revealing a warmth that made your chest ache. You found yourself asking questions, small ones at first, but each answer drew him out more. The way he spoke—measured, thoughtful, with just the faintest edge of weariness—made you want to listen forever. For someone who seemed so guarded, he had a surprising amount to say, and you realized how much you liked hearing him talk.

You didn’t even notice how much time had passed until a sharp knock interrupted the quiet cocoon of your conversation.

“Donnie? You okay in there? Your 30 was up ten minutes ago.” 

It was your coworker.

“I’m good!” You called back, swinging your legs off of Nanami’s lap, turning to him with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I completely lost track of time.”

“No, it’s alright. I should have been checking my watch,” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, long fingers combing through the buzzed, blonde strands of his undercut like wind blowing through a field of wheat. Then, after glancing down at his watch, he stood up, cleared his throat, and straightened out his suit jacket. “Thank you for your time.”

You hadn’t moved from your spot on the couch, brows furrowed. “That’s it?”

You had half expected him to extend the time. The conversation was going so well, you had silently found yourself hoping that he would lean over and do something – place his strong hand on your thigh, brush his fingers up your arm, anything. No-touching policy be damned.

You would make an exception for him. Men that fine don’t just grow on trees.

So, trying your best to lure him back in, you kicked one leg over the other, crawling into a sexy pose on the couch. In the most sultry tone you could manage, you breathed, “Is that really all you wanted?”

Please ask me for a lapdance, You found yourself wishing internally. 

He paused, looking back at you like he wasn’t the least bit phased by the sexy pose or the outfit or… well, anything. “Yes, why?”

“Nothing, I don’t know, I just… You spent so much money tonight to be here,” You uttered, suddenly bashful when he was peering down at you like that – he was so much taller than you, a height gap that was only emphasized by your seated position on the couch below him. You imagined you would have to stand on the tips of your toes to be at eye level with his neck, maybe his chin. Mindlessly, you caressed the couch. “I figured you would have at least wanted a lap dance, or something.”

“I’m not going to make you do something that neither of us are interested in doing,” He said, sliding his hands down over his slacks to straighten out the creases that had formed in them where your legs had been resting only a moment earlier. “Sex is free. It’s rare to find someone who’s willing to listen.”

You sat there, stunned into silence, still in that sexy pose on the couch, your body frozen in the aftermath of his words. His calm, unbothered demeanor completely threw you off balance, leaving you scrambling to make sense of what had just happened. Men like him didn’t come in here looking for conversation. They came in here for fantasies, for attention, for touch. But not him. 

“Thank you for everything,” he said softly, bowing his head slightly in a gesture so gentlemanly it made your stomach twist. Then, without another word, he moved to the door, unlocking it with smooth precision. 

You didn’t even have time to gather yourself before he slipped out, leaving you sitting there in your sultry pose, legs crossed, mouth slightly open. The sound of the door closing behind him echoed in the room, final and undeniable.

You blinked, your mind racing, the moment replaying over and over in your head. Did I just get… emotionally blue-balled? 

The thought hit you like a ton of bricks, both incredulous and a little amused at how absurdly fitting it was. You flopped back against the couch, your sultry act forgotten, staring up at the ceiling as the jazzy tune from the speakers drifted lazily through the air.

For the first time, a client had left you feeling something you couldn’t quite put into words. You couldn’t decide if you were more annoyed, intrigued, or just completely thrown off your game.

All you knew was that you wanted more.

DARREN: Hey imu.

DARREN: U busy tn?

YOU: I’m working but I get out early. Y.

DARREN: let me pick u up after work

DARREN: maybe i can help you ease some of that stress.

Darren rolled off of you with a huff and an exhale, proud of himself. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the backside of his elbow, sighing, “That was great. Did you cum?”

“Yeah,” You liked straight through your teeth. Feeling vulnerable, you reached for your shirt and slipped it back on. There was a point in time where the two of you would sleep skin-to-skin after sex. A point in time long ago, of course, but you couldn’t help but reflect. Now, all that was left was a feeling of discomfort where the intimacy used to be. 

He flopped down onto the bed next to you, throwing his arm around your waist. Not moving a muscle, you trained your gaze on the ceiling above, hoping that maybe, if you spent enough time counting the dots in his popcorn ceiling, he would see that you did not, in fact, enjoy the experience. You doubted he would do anything to fix it even if he did know.

52, 53, 54.

You had been counting for the past five minutes – thirty seconds after he had grunted the words, “Let’s do missionary” into your ear before flipping you over. Truthfully, you hadn’t wanted to do missionary. That would mean that he could see you and, more importantly, that you had to look at him. So, to pass time and to avoid his gaze, you looked up at the ceiling, allowing yourself to be carried away by the tides of pleasure that his strokes gave you.

55, 56, 57.

He buried his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling. “You smell like a man’s cologne.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I work at a strip club.”

With a groan, Darren rolled onto his back, finally putting a comfortable distance between you and him. “Don’t remind me. I’ve been telling you that you’re wasting your talents at a place like that.”

Your jaw tightened. There it was, the same old Darren: judgment wrapped in concern, but laced with the unspoken assumption that he knew what was best for you.

You slipped off the bed, grabbing your phone from the nightstand. The cool floor against your bare feet helped ground you.

Unlocking your phone, you typed a message to Nobara, your roommate: 

Can you come get me? I’m at my ex’s.

The response came almost instantly: 

Girl, r u srs?

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard before you replied: 

I’ll explain later, ik, just pls… I wanna gtfo of here.

Sliding the phone into the pocket of your hoodie, you turned back to Darren. He was staring at the ceiling now, one arm slung across his chest, his fingers idly tapping against his bicep. For a moment, you hesitated. The familiarity of this scene—him in his sweatpants, you in one of his old T-shirts—was a cruel reminder of how things used to be. But you weren’t that girl anymore.

“I think I should go,” you said, breaking the silence.

Darren’s head snapped toward you. “No, wait,” he said, sitting up. His hair was tousled, his expression almost pleading. “Please… I really want you to stay.”

You crossed your arms, keeping your distance. “Why?”

“Because…” He raked a hand through his hair, his voice quieter now. “I don’t know. I thought things were going good between us.”

You blinked, then let out a short, humorless laugh. “Things? Darren, I come here, we have sex, and then I leave. That’s it. That’s all this is.”

“Is that all I am to you?” His voice carried a tinge of desperation, his eyes searching yours.

You tilted your head, studying him. “Or maybe,” you said slowly, “you’re asking if there’s any chance of us getting back together.”

“Yeah.” His voice cracked slightly, and he swallowed hard. “Is there?”

You laughed again, colder this time, shaking your head. “No. There isn’t.”

His jaw clenched, and he looked away for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was sharp. “That’s not fair. I’ve done so much for you—”

“Done so much?” Your voice rose, and you stepped closer, anger bubbling to the surface. “You don’t give me shit but dick and attitude, Darren.”

He flinched, but you didn’t stop. “You wanna know what’s not fair? The fact that you went and knocked me up and then forced me to have an abortion. Where the hell were you during that, huh? Seeing as you’ve done so much for me?”

He sat frozen, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out. His eyes darted toward the floor, guilt pooling in their depths.

“And you wanna know what’s really unfair?” Your voice cracked, but you didn’t care. The words spilled out like a flood you couldn’t contain. “The fact that you fucking cheated on me when I needed you the most. That’s what’s not fair, Darren.”

Darren stared at you, his face contorted with frustration. “That’s not fucking fair,” he snapped, his voice rising.  

“Oh, fuck you, Darren,” you shot back, your hands trembling as you pointed at him. “What else do I have to do to show you I’m done? What else do I have to say?”  

“I’m trying!” he yelled, stepping closer. “I’ve been fucking trying! But nothing I do is ever good enough for you, is it? You’re so goddamn impossible!”  

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “You call this trying? You call cheating, lying, and gaslighting me trying?”  

“God, you’re such a fucking idiot,” he spat, his words sharp enough to cut. “You act like you’re perfect, like you’ve never made a mistake in your goddamn life.”  

“I’m not perfect, Darren,” you hissed, stepping forward, your voice shaking with anger. “But at least I own my shit. At least I don’t treat the people I love like they’re disposable!”  

“Oh?” he scoffed, throwing his hands in the air. “You think you’re so much better than me? You’re the one who keeps coming back. So what does that make you, huh?”  

The room was thick with tension, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Then he muttered under his breath, “Pathetic.”  

Your blood boiled. “What did you just say?”  

“You heard me,” he said, his tone dripping with venom.  

“Fuck you, Darren!” you screamed, shoving him hard against the chest.  

His expression darkened. “You don’t get to do that,” he snarled.  

Before you could react, he grabbed your wrist and pushed you away. The force of it sent you stumbling back, and you hit the edge of the dresser, pain shooting up your arm as you fell to the floor.  

“Wait, I…” His face shifted, panic flickering in his eyes. He took a step toward you, his hand outstretched.  

You scrambled to your feet, holding your arm where it throbbed. “You know what? I’m done.” Your voice was quieter now, but no less firm. “I’m done, Darren.”  

“Wait—”  

“No!” you shouted, cutting him off. “Go fuck yourself!”  

“Please,” he said, his voice cracking. “Don’t let us go. We had something special. You know that.”  

You stared at him, disbelief flooding your chest. Then you laughed—a cruel, hollow sound. “If you thought this was anything more than sex, then you’re the fucking idiot.”  

He opened his mouth to argue, but you were already grabbing your stiletto boots from the floor.  

“We can make it work,” he said desperately, following you as you stormed out of his apartment.  

“Make it work?” you echoed, spinning around to face him as you reached his car. “Make it work?” You hefted one of your boots in your hand. “Make this fucking work!”  

Before he could respond, you hurled the boot at his car window. The glass shattered on impact, the sound ringing out like a scream in the still night.  

The car alarm blared, its shrill wailing cutting through the silence. Darren stood frozen, his mouth agape.  

“Shit,” he muttered, rushing toward the car.  

You grabbed your other boot and slung it over your shoulder. “Fix that, asshole!” you yelled as you walked away, the sound of the alarm trailing behind you.  

“Her!” Darren called after you, but you didn’t turn around.  

You kept walking, the cold air biting at your skin, the adrenaline coursing through you keeping you upright. Your arm throbbed where you’d hit it, but you didn’t stop. You didn’t look back.  

You made it about halfway home before the exhaustion hit you like a freight train. Your legs wobbled, and you collapsed onto the curb, cradling your arm as the tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over.  

Your phone buzzed weakly in your pocket. Nobara’s name lit up the screen.  

“Where the hell are you?” she demanded as you answered, her voice sharp but tinged with worry.  

You gave her your location, your words slurred with exhaustion and pain. “I can’t— I just can’t walk anymore.”  

“Stay put,” she said firmly. “I’m coming to get you.”  

By the time her car pulled up, you were slumped against a lamppost, your eyes half-closed. Nobara jumped out, wrapping her jacket around your shoulders as she helped you to your feet.  

“What the hell happened?” she asked, her tone softer now.  

You shook your head, too drained to explain. “I’m hungry. I’ll tell you later.”  

“Let’s stop and get you something to eat,” She didn’t press further, guiding you into the car. As the city lights blurred past, you stared out the window, the events of the night replaying in your mind like a bad dream.  

The car was warm, the quiet hum of the heater and the golden glow of streetlights spilling through the windshield easing the tension in your chest. You cradled your injured arm as Nobara maneuvered through the drive-thru, shooting you occasional glances.  

“You want the usual?” she asked as she pulled up to the intercom.  

“Yeah. Large fries, nuggets, and a Coke,” you murmured, leaning your head back against the seat.  

She placed the order, and soon you were pulling into a parking spot under the dim glow of the lot’s overhead lights. The smell of greasy goodness filled the car as she handed you the bag, cracking open a box of nuggets for herself.  

“So,” she said, dipping a nugget into a cup of barbecue sauce. “You gonna tell me what the hell happened back there, or do I just have to assume you went full-on ‘Carrie’ at prom?”  

You snorted, the first genuine laugh you’d had all night. “Something like that.”  

“Well, shit.” She popped the nugget into her mouth. “Guess I missed a show.”  

You sighed, staring at the fries in your lap. “It’s over. For real this time.”  

“Good,” Nobara said firmly. “That guy was a walking red flag.”  

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Speaking of red flags…” You smirked as an idea popped into your head. “You’ll never believe what happened at work today.”  

Her eyes narrowed as she dunked another nugget. “Oh, this should be good. Spill.”  

You leaned back, a grin playing on your lips. “I got booked for a private room.”  

Nobara froze mid-bite. “I thought you didn’t do those?”  

“I don’t,” you said, shrugging. “But they offered me a shit ton of money. Guess who it was.”  

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “Who?”  

You couldn’t help but draw it out for dramatic effect. “Your teacher.”  

Her jaw dropped, and the nugget in her hand fell back into the box. “No way, Bitch.”  

You nodded, trying to keep a straight face.  

“What did he want? Is he, like, a total pervert or something?”  

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, actually. He just wanted someone to talk to.”  

Nobara blinked, clearly baffled. “Huh.”  

“I know, right?” you said, grabbing a nugget. “Easiest money I’ve ever made.”  

“Damn,” she muttered, chewing thoughtfully. “I never took him as the emotional type.”  

“Don’t go telling your friends, though,” you warned, wagging a finger at her. “He told me some pretty heavy shit.”  

Nobara tensed, her expression flickering with something you didn’t catch as you reached for your Coke. “Like what?”  

You laughed, shaking your head. “Like hell if I’d tell you.”  

“Oh, come on!” she said, pouting dramatically. “I won’t tell anyone!”  

You smirked, leaning back in your seat. “I’m not risking it. Client confidentiality or whatever.”  

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” she groaned, but there was a smile tugging at her lips.  

You both sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the car filled with the sound of crinkling wrappers and occasional laughter.  

“Hey,” Nobara said suddenly, looking at you out of the corner of her eye. “You’re okay, right?”  

You hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I think I will be.”  

She smiled, a small, genuine one. “Good. ‘Cause if you ever go back to that asshole, I’m slashing his tires.”  

You laughed, the sound bubbling up before you could stop it. “Deal.”  

As you both dug into the last of the nuggets, the weight of the night seemed to lift, replaced by the warmth of greasy food and a friend who always had your back.

a/n: and there she is! my first update in like a year lol. lmk what you thought! tell me what you would like to see in the story, who knows, i might be able to incorporate it in! Thank you all for your lovely comments. I loveee reading them.

comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

I obviously do not own jjk or anything related to it. I can't find the artist, but if you know them pls dm for credits!!! please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

taglist: @missphanosaur18 , @bontensbabygirl, @megumissunshine, @chocoyanchan, @littlelovebug98, @lucisimpongod, @xochyw, @jaegerstan222 , @electro-supremacy, @mellytheteddy, @clover0310 , @soraya-daydreams, @priussy, @insanehumantinker, @staygoldsquatchling02, @nonksity, @hinata7346, @chososwhoresblog, @ynjimenez , @soraya-daydreams , @nonksity , @hinata7346 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @sad-darksoul , @sasuke-slut , @yuunie135 , @bratkuna , @aydene , @mshope16 , @pretentiousteentrash , @galactict3a , @kokos-property , @moonriseoverkyoto , @lyn-soso , @arilostie , @violetmatcha , @markleeisdabestdrug , @erensdior , @hp-simp505 , @fushiguro-kyuuuuuu , @bontensbabygirl , @switch-godess , @honey-yuh , @ddotsie

wanna join the taglist? | my kinda love; chapter index

[nicksolemnlyswears]

WAYS TO DESTRESS

summary: after a long day, all coriolanus wants to do is blow some steam off. nothing will stop him from getting what he wants…not even your sleepy state

pairing: young! coriolanus snow x capitol! reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: 18+, smut, cursing, somnophilia, dub non-con, p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering, squirting, pussy spanking, belly bulge (?), LISTEN I KNOW ITS UNLIKELY BUT LET ME BE UNHINGED, a bit rough nothing too crazy, get your holy water though, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it please)

a/n: this came to me the moment i opened my eyes this morning. pure filth. i shouldn't be proud but i am. goes to show how much coriolanus is plaguing my thoughts day and night. my new little hyperfixation. a new villain to add to my collection <3

PT. 2

requests open ✨

All Coriolanus feels is anger. It's been pumping through his veins throughout most of the day, almost causing him to lose his composure at all the wrong places. He can never afford to fuck up. He already did it once, and second chances are nonexistent in the Capitol.

He owes a lot to Dr. Gaul. After all, she saw the value in Coriolanus. She saw right through him and his faux kindness and unearthed his true wickedness. He simply needed a nudge in the right direction.

While working for with her is an honor, it is hardly easy. Like all aspects of his life, he's had to adapt to how she runs her lab. Coriolanus is hardly a follower; he's a leader, but as long as he remains under the tutelage of Dr. Gaul, he will have to follow her orders. Which means he has to talk when spoken to and perform how she expects him to.

There are days when it all becomes too much. His pride rises to the surface, forcing him to stifle it as best as he can before he does something he regrets.

He has to think of the scrutinizing gaze of his peers waiting for him to fail. As much as they pretend to be his friend, they want him to make a mistake so they can rise to the occasion. He won't allow that.

His apartment is silent when he steps in. The lavish decor is obscured by the lack of illumination. It's to be expected, seeing it's well past midnight.

Leaving his coat by the door, Coriolanus walks towards the bedroom. He needs to destress now, or he'll carry all his anger and frustration on his shoulders for the rest of the week. He can't have that. He can't lose control and look bad in front of Dr. Gaul and the others.

In the master bedroom, he finds you lying on the soft mattress, tangled in the silky bedsheets. He watches your chest rise and fall with gentle breaths, your pouty lips slightly ajar. It's a shame he's going to disturb your sleep, but he needs to let off some steam. That's one of the numerous reasons he has his pretty little girlfriend.

Coriolanus unbuttons the red waistcoat and removes his shoes, leaving them in the armchair. As he approaches your side of the bed, he notices the bright orange bottle on the nightstand and your book thrown haphazardly on the floor.

It's rare for you to take sleep aid medication because you hate how they knock you out. You only take them when you've had a particularly rough day. It seems Coriolanus is not alone in this. Today has been bad for both you and him.

Still, his plan remains the same. Coriolanus leans over you, kissing your forehead gingerly before his lips continue to trail down to kiss your cheek and lips. You don't stir with the soft touches.

Coriolanus darkly chuckles. It's not often he gets to do this. He'll take it as a treat for his patience throughout the day. He'd say the universe is working in his favor if he believed in such silly things.

Having you so pliable and willing in his hands excites him to no end. Lying on the bed, he digs his head on your shoulder, leaving marks for you to find in the morning. It spurs him on to hear little gasps falling from your lips.

"Beautiful and all mine," he mutters into the silent room as he lowers down the thin straps of your night dress to reveal your chest.

Coriolanus takes his time with your body. Even while asleep, it responds to his touch. He sucks and squeezes on your breasts harshly, biting down on the stiff peaks of your nipples.

He's not as gentle this time around compared to other times in the past. Then, you were simply asleep; now, you're completely doped out. He will miss your whines and the way you berate him.

Coriolanus continues down your body until he settles between your legs. "Fuck, darling," he audible groans when he lifts up your nighty to find a patch on your panties. Who would've thought you'd be as responsive to him while asleep.

He gives into his urges as he presses his nose against your center, smelling your arousal and licking up the wet fabric with his tongue. He only parts for a moment as he roughly slides the thin fabric off.

With you like this, there is no reason to tease. He doesn't have to kiss your thighs or hold himself back. Coriolanus can truly delve into what he wants without a spectacle.

It's why he buries his tongue into your wet cunt as soon as he has the chance. He holds your limp thighs on his shoulders as he presses himself against you, his blue eyes closing in ecstasy at the taste.

Soft noises- moans- come from above him as you slightly stir in your drug-induced sleep. While Coriolanus suck on your pearl of nerves, he wonders what you're dreaming about and if he's the protagonist as well.

His hips roll onto the mattress underneath, soothing the ache on his cock. He could go straight to fucking you but wants this to last. He needs to keep his mind busy, and eating you out is the answer.

Unconsciously, you grind your cunt on his tongue, chasing your release. Coriolanus smiles at this and rewards you with fucking you with his tongue. He's determined to make you cum all over it.

"Oh," he hears you whine when his nose rubs on your sensitive clit. He knows you're close. He feels it in the way your thighs are suddenly clenching around him.

There is no doubt in his mind you're still asleep. If you were awake, you'd be gripping his hair like a vice and calling his name for everyone to hear. You'd be begging him to fuck you silly.

Coriolanus laps up your juices like a starving man when you cum. Despite living in poverty, he never felt the need to act in such a way until he tasted you for the first time. He treats his sweet little girlfriend's cunt like a delicacy.

He stops himself before he almost makes you cum again as he slurps and sucks on your cunt. From up close, he can see the way your clit twitches under the pleasure. He leaves a bruise that will turn purple by morning on the inside of your thigh. It'll be a telltale sign he was there, devouring you while you soundly slept. A reminder you're his to use whenever he pleases.

Taking the rest of his clothes off, Coriolanus returns to your sleeping body. He pumps his cock in his fist as he looks at all the bruises and marks he left behind, and you'll have to hide because you can't have him seem like a pervert in front of his classmates.

Kneeling on the bed, he wraps your legs around his hips. He teases your wet cunt with the fat head of his cock, nudging over your clit repeatedly. He continues this until his cock is slick with your juices. As an extra, he spits down on your cunt, spreading his saliva over you. Not because you need lubrication but because he likes the sight of him on you in every which way.

No matter how many times Coriolanus has fucked you throughout your two years of being together, he's always had trouble pushing his cock in. He has to take a deep breath when he bottoms out as your cunt tries to choke him out. It's one of his favorite things about you, a constant reminder of the day he took your innocence.

It's only when he begins rocking his hips into you that you give any indication of waking up.

"What?" You whine as panic settles into you. Your brain isn't working properly. You're hazy and confused. Not knowing where you are, you get scared, and your heart races.

Coriolanus holds your hands as you begin struggling. As he leans down to talk to you, he pins you down, leaving you impaled with his cock. He immensely enjoys the struggle but can't have you screaming out in panic.

"It's just me, darling," he coo's in your ear, nuzzling his nose against your face. It works as your heart begins settling down.

"Coryo?" You sniff with tears in your eyes as your panic is quickly swept away. You try to speak, but the pills leave your tongue heavy and your brain foggy.

"Yes, your Coryo," he responds, kissing your cheek sweetly.

You've stopped struggling and spread your legs once again, just how he likes it. He even feels you clenching down purposefully around Coriolanus' cock. You're no saint; you enjoy making it hard for him even in your drugged-out state.

"Relax, darling. Go back to sleep," he hushes you, softly rocking into you.

Your eyes are already closed as he utters the words. You have no choice in the matter. Granted, now you sleep calmer, knowing it's Coryo touching you and making you feel food.

Coriolanus calls your name once, twice, and there is no response. You're back with the sandman, peacefully asleep. He takes it as a sign to keep fucking you.

Kneeling back on the bed, Coriolanus brings up your thighs to touch your chest. Your pretty cunt is on full display, showcasing the hues of pink and glistening fluids that shine under the lowlights of the bedroom.

Coriolanus licks the pads on his fingers before they smack down on your center. The only way it'll look even better is if it had that familiar twinge of red. He aims for the center, straight at your pearl, and smacks his hand down several times.

It manages to wake you again, eyes hooded with sleep, staring at him and complaints falling from your lips. Each time the 'smack' reverberates and you flinch, he soothes the sting, spreading the clear strings of arousal that drip from your hole.

Only when your cunt is flushed red and your clit is puffed out of its fleshy covering, does he pull you down on his cock. He fucks in and out of you mercilessly, addicted to the way your tight walls hug his cock even as he pulls out.

He glances towards your face and notes you're back to sleep. If it were up to him, you'd take the pills more often just so he could find you waiting for him asleep, naked on the bed. A real-life doll of his own.

The sound of skin slapping and his desperate moans and grunts fill the room, along with some of your smaller ones. He doesn't tend to be so vocal; he prefers listening to you beg for him, but with no one to hear him, he lets it all out.

Coriolanus places a hand on your lower tummy, pressing down to feel himself through your walls. It's an erotic thing to feel his cock slipping in and out, reaching the deepest parts of you.

He slows the pace of his thrusting, opting to go harder and deeper, just where he can make out the bump on your pelvis of his cock head.

The pressure Coryo is causing doesn't go unnoticed by you. Groggily, you open your eyes to find him with his head dipped down, whispering profanities to himself, a pretty sheen of sweat covering his fair skin.

"Mmm, Co-coryo," you moan, catching his attention.

With a glint in his eyes, he grabs your hand, placing it where you can feel it too, his fingers lacing through yours as he holds it down, "Feel this? No one will ever get you to feel like I do, darling. I'm going to ruin you for all others. Not like I'll let you leave anyways."

It's never crossed your mind to leave Coriolanus. Not for a second. The moment you set eyes on him, you knew he was it, and the ring on your finger is a promise of that. It's why you let him use you as he pleases.

You babble out a response as the darkness consumes you once more. By morning, you'll barely remember a thing as a side effect of the pills, but Coryo won't let you forget.

The mixture of your relaxed state, Coriolanus' hand pressing down on you, and the angle of his thrusts allow for something that hasn't happened before. Something he'll enjoy for the years to come.

As he viciously snaps his hips to chase his release, you wiggle under him. There are words on your heavy tongue neither can make out, a warning.

"Shh," Coriolanus quiets you down, focusing on the way you're milking his cock for all that his worth.

He's in for a surprise when a particularly angled thrust causes you to squirt around him. A stream of your juices covering his cock and abdomen. Although he falters for a moment, he quickly pulls out and rubs at your clit, causing a smaller stream to leak out of you.

His night has become a hundred times better. His eyes widen in wonder as his brain creates new ways to have you and make you do it again. "This is going to be fun."

When you wake up in the morning, you don't remember what happened, but you know something did. It's in the way your cunt aches and how thick cum runs down your leg when you get up.

Brief, blurry memories surface as you shower. Truly, you didn't care. If anything, you're upset you missed out on the fun and can't remember the pleasure. Ultimately, you trust Coriolanus and that he won't hurt you.

You feel well-rested as you dress and make breakfast for the two of you. There is an undeniable ache in your cunt, but that's always welcomed. Your problems from yesterday are only a quiet hum in a dark corner of your brain.

"My love," you softly call out to Coriolanus, touching his naked shoulder.

"Good morning," he says with his eyes closed, although there is an undeniable grin on his lips. All the stress he felt yesterday has dissipated, leaving a pleasant feeling in his chest.

"Good morning to you, too," you giggle as you lean down to catch his lips in a kiss. There is a tangy taste attached to them that you recognize well. "Had a good night, did you?"

"I certainly did. Do you remember anything?" He asks, sitting up on the bed. The falling bedsheets reveal his toned chest and stomach. Gently, you grab the tray with food and place it on his lap.

"Barely," you scoff, "It's a shame." You technically haven't had sex with Coriolanus in two long weeks. His stunt from last night did nothing to satiate you or your mind that keeps picturing him in all sorts of compromising positions.

Coriolanus hums as he takes a bite of toast. You know him well enough to know he's amused that you don't remember and that he's hiding something.

"What is it?" You prod, brushing a strand of pale blonde hair away from his eyes.

"Nothing," he says with a shrug. He's making you work for it. Coryo loves his games, after all.

"Coryo," you speak his name with a warning.

He takes his time, sipping on the glass placed on the tray. "I just…I didn't know you could squirt," he reveals cheekily, stabbing his fork on a piece of fruit.

"What? That's because I don't," you say, taken aback.

A crease forms between your eyebrows. You and Coryo are not ashamed to talk about sex. It took you by surprise at first because he always presents himself so elegantly and no-nonsense. Behind the scenes, though, when he's with you, he's open to discussing everything he wishes to try and his likes and dislikes.

You, in return, have been the same. Admitting that you've never been able to squirt and might never be able to. It's been a topic of conversation numerous times, seeing as it's something Coryo has always been curious about.

"Yes, you do. Last night, you squirted all over my cock and my fingers and my tongue," he boasts with a smirk as he remembers all the times he made you cum after that.

"I did?"

"You were such a good girl for me, darling," Coriolanus responds, putting the tray of food to the side and cupping your face, "All you had to do was relax."

"Hard to do when you're edging me for hours," you roll your eyes at him. Edging you is just one of the fun ways he tortures you.

"Don't be a spoilsport," he frowns, gripping your face harder before planting another kiss on your lips.

"It's not fair. I can't remember anything," you softly murmur. It's a real damn shame you won't remember the first time you squirt or the face Coryo made at the realization.

"Poor thing. I can show you how to do it again. I practiced last night a couple of times," he whispers in your ear, kissing down to your pulse point, "But I can't right now, or I'll be late."

"Huh?" You dumbly respond, enthralled by his words, imagining all the pleasure he'll give you.

"Thanks for breakfast," Coriolanus says, standing from the bed and heading into the bathroom butt-naked.

You watch after him lustfully and angrily, forced to continue your morning as if nothing happened.

In less than an hour, Coriolanus is ready to return to Dr. Gaul's laboratory. He has to check for any progress in his experiment before heading to the university for his classes.

He sits you on the bed before he leaves, though, to show you something 'important.' "I'll see you tonight," he says, kissing the crown of your head and turning on the TV.

The screen shows you lying on your back, whining helplessly as Coryo slips two fingers into your cunt rapidly. The rings on his fingers and the palm of his hand glisten with your sticky juices.

He did not lie about your new ability as you watch your hole leak clear liquid. The Coryo on the screen, who had been encouraging you with lewd words, eagerly attaches his mouth to catch it all. When he pulls back, his chin is dripping with your release.

Watching yourself in that fucked out state and Coryo behaving so obscenely gets your silk panties wet. Glancing at the clock, you note you have 30 minutes till you have to be at the door.

In no time, you're spread out on the bed with your hand under your university skirt, panties pushed to the side fucking two fingers into your cunt. Your eyes are focused entirely on the screen, rewatching the clip.

thanks for reading! i hope you liked it!

part two for coryo making her squirt while she's actually conscious?

[pinksugarscrub]

Congrats on your one year! ❤️ may I order a tiramisu with Hobie and bounty hunter!R arguing about how they do their vigilante work until R accidentally reveals why she takes paid jobs (provide for family/ relative by anonymously sending them money out of guilt for making their family think they’re dead)?

You can change up the prompt to best suit your writing imagination 😚🥹

@hyperfix-wip

Crossroads

Bard! Hobie x Bounty Hunter! fem! reader

I had a lot of fun with this as you can see. There are very mature themes including blood, violence, and implied assault. Please read at your own discretion. I tried my best to keep it vague.

Word count: 3,070

~

What does a bounty hunter and a bard have in common? Absolutely nothing. Why pose such a question you may ask? It’s because you’ve had the unfortunate privilege of learning this answer.

How much longer you’ll have to endure endless rambling you do not know. What you do know is you would gladly kill this man for free.

It started over four weeks ago. Enough time to witness all of the phases of the moon.

A measly drink, a moment of peace was all you wanted when the bard came crashing into the stool beside you.

Now, normally this would not have provoked you to action but after having a very high ranking target stolen from right under you. It’s safe to say you needed to blow off some steam.

You paid the barkeep for all of the damages and stepped over the groaning drunkards on your way out. Who had started and likely would have continued an all out bar fight with every patron.

Either way you were ready to retire when the bard came stumbling out. Hair braided into several and tied back by a leather band. You can recall just how irritating the conversation was then.

No matter how much you tried to deny his praises, he assumed you a hero. Trying to invoke a life debt that was quite common to pirates. You were not interested.

He stayed anyway.

You figured after a time he would come to his senses and eventually sneak off when he thought you weren’t looking. Violence did that to people. It pushed them away.

His name was Hobart Brown but he insisted on being called Hobie. He dubbed you Lily after spotting a field of lily of the valley and also because you would not provide him with your name. ‘Pretty but deadly’ he said.

He wanted to travel by the Great Sea and find adventure. You almost felt sorry for the poor sod and he must have noticed because he reassured you that being in your debt did not create a dent on his plans.

You could tell he was fascinated with you. You knew that would be short lived as you cocked your pistol and killed a man you recognized from a town bulletin board. He was worth five hundred gold.

Hobie was off put. Expression wary and heavy as he asked you that night by the campfire who you were. You simply responded 'bounty hunter' and continued stoking the fire.

When you awoke he was still there. Saddling the horses and murmuring that the next town over would be less than a day’s travel.

You did not show your surprise as you slid out of your bed roll and prepared to depart. You felt uneasy the entire trip there. It was silent between the two of you even after you passed the town’s gate.

You’re unsure of why but perhaps it’s because his company has lifted a weight off of your shoulders that you stop him by the shoulder and check into an inn. Spending more coin than you would on yourself for a more than decent room and food that you ask to be sent to his just across the hall. A proper place to rest instead of dirt clearings and forest floors.

When you sit in the first warm bath you’ve had in months it dawns on you what you’ve done. You can’t afford any setbacks. He needs to go.

You cannot handle this kind of guilt in your heart that will inevitably follow you when you have to complete a bounty so you’ll leave first thing in the morning.

-

A quiet knock at your door stops you. Midcount of the gold and copper pieces in your pouch. They all clink together as you let them slid back into the leather bag.

“Yes?”

Hobie’s face immediately brightens when he catches your eye. A grin you've grown accustomed to. A stark contrast to the relaxed line of your lips.

“Good evening darling. Would you like to accompany me to the nearest tavern? I would say I owe you a drink.”

You give him a pointed look.

“Come on!” He laughs. Resting against the doorframe of your large room. “I know you are just as bored out of your mind as me. We can come right back if you’re still not up to it after one drink.”

Is it the way he smiles at you that gets you or the small quirk of his brow? The challenge. You have to wonder if the man is secretly a siren. It would match with his profession of choice.

“Fine, meet me downstairs in ten minutes.”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen a man sprint to his room like his life depended on it.

The nicest thing you owned was a flowy white dress that hung onto your shoulders and went just above your knees. The holster of your gun still fits snugly around your waist along with the pouch of coin you have since emptied to seem less heavy.

It isn’t particularly cold so you don’t take your signature coat with you. In a flourish you’re out the door and waiting with the fae handing out room keys and pretty smiles.

Not a minute later you catch the sound of the steps creaking and you swiftly move around. “Took you long enough. I was beginning to-” You caught yourself before you could finish that sentence but it didn’t seem like he caught on to your blunder.

He was looking at you with a slight part of his lips. It made your hair stand on end.

Hobie could now clearly see your figure. He could see more skin than you had previously shown in the last thirty two days. Heavens did you look beautiful.

He promptly cleared his throat and gestured toward the door. “Shall we?”

He let out a sigh of relief as soon as your attention was off of him.

Kill him, kill him now.

-

The walk to the tavern was short. The loud bumbling and bustling patrons spilling out the windows meant to look like painting archways. Sets of tables outside of the tavern as well which was new but not all that surprising. The population was bigger here compared to the last town.

Hobie stumbles and almost falls flat on his face as a boisterous woman steps into his path. You’re quick to catch him. Pulling him to your side with a firm grip around his waist. The woman apologies but it's obvious by the ale on her breath that she does not really mean it.

You look up to check on your companion only to find him already staring at you. With the same distant look he gave you at the inn.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he answers. Raking his eyes over your face before smiling. “Let’s go in.”

You roll your eyes at his obvious lie. Ignoring how it bothers you that you want to know what he is thinking.

A set of two glasses is set before you. Filled to the brim with froth coating the top of the glass. Apple cider. The town specialty given by the apple orchards the two of you passed on the way in.

You’re ready to slide your pouch off of your belt when a hand stops you.

“I’ll get it.” Hobie grins—fairy feathers doesn’t that hurt his face?—and hands a handsome amount of coin into the barmaid’s hand.

She’s ecstatic to which Hobie responds with a wink. It causes a pit to form in your stomach and you find yourself reaching for your mug to find something else to do with your mouth than scowl.

“Eager are we?” Hobie teases. Reaching for his own glass and taking a drink. He moans as soon as the liquid hits his tongue. “This must be made of liquid gold.”

You have to agree as your shoulders relax. The crisp taste is so satisfying you’re tempted to take bigger gulps.

Hobie smiles as he admires you behind his glass. He has to stop himself from reaching out and wiping away the froth from your lip. Thank the stars you are too distracted to notice.

“So,” Hobie hums,“was I right in taking you out of your room?”

He avoids using the word cage like he had planned to because he does take into account how luxurious the space they were staying in was. It wouldn’t be very proper of him to degrade the money she spent. Even as a joke.

You only nodded as you took the time to scan your surroundings. Everyone was having a good time. Glossy eyes and rosy cheeks were proof of that but you could never be too careful.

Hobie frowns but doesn’t say a word. Just shifts in his chair and tries to find something clever to say.

“How is your knee?” You ask above the cheers and laughter. “The foal took a pretty nasty hit to you.”

Hobie laughs. He looks pleased at the way you initiate conversation. It feels as though he is always the one talking.

“Oh, that. I’m fine. Was my fault for getting in her space anyway.”

Your lips break into a smile at that. “You should consider yourself lucky that it was her and not the mare.”

Hobie shivers at the thought. Bigger horse shoe, bigger hit. Yeah, that would not have gone well.

“I’m normally very good with animals, you can’t blame me,” he pouts.

That peaks your curiosity and yet again, he is perceptive enough to see this.

“I was born on a farm.” He grins again as he explains. “With more than a dozen cattle and sheep. We didn’t have horses though.”

Well, you might as well humor him.

“So your family owned land in the Northern region. That’s pretty far from where I found you.”

Hobie would fist pump the air if he could. Hook, line, and sinker. “Yeah?” He leans forward. “You know where that is?”

You nod, taking another sip of your cider and sighing. “I’ve never traveled up there. Aren’t many jobs and I haven’t found the need to explore.”

Hobie stiffens and glances at the holster holding your gun. “Right.” He licks his lips. His voice wasn’t as steady as he would have liked. “And you? Where do you come from? Because I’m certain it wasn’t from daisies.”

A chuckle leaves your lips that sounds more like a huff. “You do not know that. Haven’t you heard of the legends?”

“Ah, yes,” he pauses. Relaxing again as he slouches in his chair. “You truly want me to believe you came from stardust and laughter?”

“It’s startdust and happiness actually,” you correct. Smiling as you feel the bubbles of cider in your belly.

“Happiness,” he nods. Clicking his tongue as he grins. “Forgive me.”

You again, roll your eyes at his playfulness. Clinking your glass with your finger as you look off to the side. He still wants an answer, you know it.

You perk up as you notice a crowd gathering around a table. The perfect distraction. With a smile you reach for his hand and pull him with you. It doesn’t matter if your heart jumps into your throat at how warm his palms feel against your own. It was a necessary course of action. To protect yourself of course.

<

Commercial break - You’re almost 2,000 words in, take a break. If a project, work, or homework is staring you in the face, go finish it and come back. The story will still be here 💕

>

You’re laughing. Actually laughing as you leave the tavern with your head on his shoulder.

“I can’t believe you did that!” Hobie exhales. Disbelief still etched in his features as he kept his grin. “Where did you- how did you-”

“Family secret!” You snicker. A bit lightheaded from all of the alcohol you had just consumed. Ten times lighter but ten times heavier in coin after winning the bet.

“Oh so now you’re not even going to share that with me?” He guwaffs. Also a bit buzzed but definitely sober enough for the two of you.

“Fine fine,” you grumble. Squinting your eyes and scrunching your nose. “The secret is- my secret is-” A hiccup interrupts you but so does a cry of pain. You immediately sober up as your eyes dart toward a darker pathway of the town.

Hobie calls after you and soon he’s hot on your heels as you race to your destination.

Pain was something you were familiar with. You dealt with it every day. Whether you were inflicting it or someone was inflicting it upon you. You recognized it. It was what you lived for now.

A sort of numbness followed. It was a comfortable routine. Find the target, pull the trigger, find the next. But right now there was a panic and fear you hadn’t felt in years. Not since this entire ordeal first began.

You don’t think. It’s muscle memory at this point as you toss a man flat on his back. Cobblestone digging into his shoulders.

You can faintly hear the cry of the woman he was previously above. Hobie’s soft voice rushing to comfort the woman. That causes some of the fear to dissipate but not all of it.

It’s fist after fist and the blunt end of your pistol as you scramble to get some footing. Something to put you on top.

With a harsh shove to the path the man’s face comes to light. You recognize it in your haze. The sketch of his picture. The number under his name. You could do that, you could fix this issue no problem.

The cock of your gun snaps Hobie out of his frenzy. Eyes wide as he quickly rushes the girl to get out before she witnesses something to add more to her trauma.

The gurgle of the man’s throat is the next thing he hears as you hold him down with the heel of your boot.

“No, no, no-” he calls out. Grabbing you by the waist and tugging back so hard you both fall. The first shot rings out and hits one of the lanterns lighting the pathway.

“This isn’t the way to do this love!” He begs, pleas with you.

You struggle in his grip as the man in front of you finally manages to catch his bearings. Wobbling onto his knees as tears sting in your own eyes.

The second shot narrowly misses his boot. Hitting a stone before rolling away into the dirt.

The third you take as Hobie grips your arm. Opposite hand gripping tightly over your wrist as you close one eye and aim. It’s like clock work. As simple and easy as breathing.

The shell clatters to the ground and so does his body. The sight makes you nauseous.

Hobie finally manages to wrap his hand around your gun and toss it away. He doesn’t know where. His heart is beating too fast to understand.

For a moment you both sit there with heavy breath. Staring at the dead man that will owe you eight hundred gold pieces once you turn his body over along with his wanted poster.

“Love…” Hobie’s voice sounds so utterly broken that it brings you back to reality.

You reach up as you feel how sticky with tears your cheeks have become. When did you start crying?

“Love,” he repeats. More strength in his voice when he turns you around to face him. “Why would you do that?”

Why? Your brows furrow in anger. Hurt. Why? He’s asking you why?

This isn’t the way to do this

“You- do you even understand what you’ve done?” He shakes his head. He himself is shaking. “Do you just shoot everything that gets in your way? That brings you coin?”

He sounds so accusing. Like you are the one that has done something wrong. You look back to the man. Pooled in his own blood.

“Is that what you think?” You finally manage to say. Fingers curling into your soiled white dress. “That I do this for the satisfaction of money?”

You find the strength to push away and stand on your own two feet because that is what you have always done.

You turn to look down at the man before you. The man you were beginning to trust. The one you were willing to give your heart to if only in your dreams because you had no one else. Because at least someone would know you existed in this life. Laughed, cried, loved.

“I don’t do this because I enjoy putting a bullet between someone’s skull!”

Hobie cowers as you step closer and that only makes your heart ache more. Placing your finger fight at the base of his skull with your hand in the universally understood gesture of a gun.

“I do it for this!” You grip onto the pouch on your side. Tugging on it so the coins scatter like locusts. “All of this because that’s all I’m good for! That’s all I can provide for my family!”

Your chest hurts as you smack your hand against it. How many times have you placed a bullet there too? Counting the man on the ground, plenty.

“I don’t want to do this,” you choke. Throat feeling tight like there was a hand squeezing at its base.

You regret letting your guard down. Drinking like you didn’t have a care in the world when in fact, you did.

“I don’t want to do this.”

You sob as you fall to your knees and Hobie can’t stop himself from reaching for you and pulling you into his chest as you cry.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whisper. The cider pushing forward the thoughts you held back in the deepest part of your mind.

‘How shameful’ he would say when you returned. ‘Your family shouldn’t need you after all’. Then he would shoot you dead in his office much like you did countless times before tonight.

Hobie held you so tight someone might wonder if you could breath. His own tears rolling down his cheeks as he hides the mark he’s found on your neck. A number with the symbol of the king.

Hobie regrets his poor choice of words but shit can you blame him? He cries into your neck as he vows to repay his debt to you.

A life, for a life.

[ticklishfizzy]

A New Kind Of Coffee

Can you tell that I'm hyperfixated on Helluva Boss? Like holy shit this freaking show has a CHOKEHOLD on me in the best way possible. Also there's like two fics of Asmodeus and Fizz which has me very upset so here's to satisfying my brain. Warning for implied depression, sex joke mention (passively like one time) implied eating disorders (not really but refusing food nonetheless) implied mental illness Fizz is having one of "those days" again, but luckily his beloved boyfriend is here to cheer him up! THIS IS PURELY SFW ALL NSFW DNI OR I WILL THROW A BIBLE AT YOU!!! (I’m not religious but damn some of y'all need jesus) Fizzarolli was tired. No, not the physical "I need to sleep tired" kind of tired. He was the mentally drained type of tired, like "I need to collapse in bed and never get up" kind of tired. But of course, he has to keep up his image of the clown that never shuts the fuck up and blows air horns in everyone's face, because what was he if not energetic? After a day of fake smiles and half-hearted sex jokes, the clown collapsed into the bed Asmodeus and him shared. He was absolutely exhausted. Nothing he did excited him. He was tired, drained, and depressed. Asmodeus, despite being the busy sin that he was, noticed. He was worried for his beloved imp, but knew he would never open up when there was work to be done or people around. Normally Fizz would be tired after a stressful day, but this was different. He had turned down any form of affection, which was not like him. He had refused to eat all day, even when Asmodeus had offered to take them out to his favorite burger place. This was more than troublesome to the sin. A gentle knock at their shared bedroom caused Fizzarolli to look up from where his head had been buried in a pillow. "You don't gotta knock, Ozz, it's your room too." The clown responded, burying his head back into the pillow. Asmodeus nodded, coming in and gently shutting the door behind him. He sat on the bed next to Fizz, laying a gentle hand on his boyfriend's back as he looked down at the imp in concern. "Fizzy Frog, what's wrong? You haven't been yourself today." The clown responded with a simple grunt. This wouldn't do. "Talk to me, love, what's on your mind?" Another grunt. Asmodeus sighed and ran his hand softly up and down Fizzarolli's back in an attempt to comfort him, startled when he received a muffled squeak in response. "Darling? What's the matter- Oh, my dear Fizzy, are you ticklish~?" To say the clown was embarrassed would be an understatement. Another squeak, then his head popped up from the pillow, a bright red blush ever so present on his face. "N-No! Why do you aSK!?" The sin chuckled as his boyfriend's sentence was cut short by his own squeal. Asmodeus ran his fingers up and down the sensitive spine, reveling in this newfound laughter which he had missed in the stressful work hours. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because your little squeals and giggles give you away oh-so easily~" Fizzarolli squeaked again, giggles pouring freely out of his mouth as he rolled over onto his back to try and escape the teasing hands. "Ah-ah-ah! Let's see how ticklish this little tummy is, shall we?" Despite the protests of his boyfriend through bubbly giggles, Asmodeus dug into the soft belly, awarded by the excited and bubbly laughter he had been looking for. "BAhAahAhBE!! CuhuHuhut iT OuHuhuT!!!" Asmodeus simply chuckled and kept up his attack, only to rest his hand on Fizzarolli's stomach. "Do you know what a tickle monster's favorite food is?" The clown squirmed and giggled before it even happened, releasing a loud squeal followed by

bubbly laughter as his lover bent down and blew a raspberry directly onto his belly button, his robot appendages rendered useless against the attack as they flailed left and right. "OHOHOZZIE WAHAHAIT STAHAHAHAHAP!!!" The attack stopped as soon as it had begun, replaced by the larger demon scooping his lover into his arms and cuddling him close to his chest. "Feeling better, Fizzy-Pop?" The clown nodded, resting his head on Asmodeus' chest before mumbling quietly, but the sin heard every word. "Thank you for loving me, Ozzie."

[maximwtf]

“Overexerted”

Baizhu x Reader

Words: 1490

Google docs pages: 3

Warnings: mentions of blood, sick Baizhu, spoilers of his story quest

Opening: Baizhu has another one of those days, a flare up after a few days of taking care of patients. As no one dares to say a word of what is going on with him, you can only guess. And getting through to the man to allow help is no easy task. 

AN// Reader can be any gender! Yall I’m sorry for the slight break, I think I’ve had almost every possible disease at this point. Just recently the joints on my hands got so painful I could barely open a can of soda, writing didn’t even come to mind :”D Anyway, back on track now! Requests are open again, though I am still heavily hyperfixated on genshin, so other requests will unfortunately have a slight delay ^^!

“Overexerted”

The usually lively pharmacy was awfully rather quiet on such a lovely day as it was. Not that it was a bad thing that a doctor’s office was empty, a good thing that the people of Liyue were healthy. But even on days like these the atmosphere in the building was never as grim as it was now. It had felt like you’d gone through a threshold of sorts after only stepping in. The herbalist behind the desk was quiet, seemingly his mind was elsewhere. And Qiqi, the child Baizhu so selflessly took care of was nowhere to be seen. Odd. It was all odd, and you had an awful feeling of what might have been going on. Only, for once you wished for yourself to be wrong. That it was only a trick of your mind, nothing more. 

You knocked lightly on the wall closest to you, gaining the attention of the man behind the desk. He had not the time to ask you of your business, you beat him to it. “Where might I find Baizhu?” You inquired, but to your demise the answer was just as you’d expected. “The doctor is having one of those days of his. Come back tomorrow if you need his help!” He nodded after, then going back to whatever he’d been reading before your arrival. 

Useless, he wasn’t going to tell you the truth. You weren’t quite so sure he even knew the extent of it. From your knowledge the man you knew wasn’t one to share information having to do with his contract. 

The sound of footsteps caught your attention soon after. Qiqi marched into the space from behind a corner, not paying much mind to you as she walked past. You weren’t so sure she even remembered your name, and from what you’d heard you weren’t sure she’d ever remember. You’d been claimed as “Bai’s friend” in her mind. But her arrival confirmed your fear. She’d come back with an empty tray in her hands, meaning she’d brought food for Baizhu. 

Without another word, you left. Reversed the way Qiqi had just taken, which led you to an all too familiar door by now. You didn’t bother with knocking, knowing if he was to answer, it would be something along the lines of, ‘I’ll be available tomorrow!’ with maybe instructions on who to ask help from until then. So instead of going through that, you gently opened the door, making sure to close it tightly after stepping in. 

If you’d doubted your fear of his condition before stepping into the room, you had to admit to yourself for being wrong right about now. The usually bright spirited doctor sat at the edge of the bed, slightly hunched over. He had a cloth in hand, covering his mouth with it as coughing fits flushed through his body. You weren’t so sure he’d even heard you come in. “Baizhu?” You asked, voice soft but just loud enough for him to hear. And as no surprise at this point, as soon as he saw you his demeanor changed. Or more so attempted to change, as another coughing fit caught wind of him. He was a mess. And with a quick look at the white snake next to him on the bed, you could tell she wasn’t all too happy about the situation either. You knew she tried to make sure he didn’t overexert himself, yet this happened every now and then. And you couldn’t blame her either. For a skilled and intelligent man like him, he did not know when to take a break or ask for help. 

As the fit calmed down, his gaze landed on you once more. He didn’t seem surprised to see you, expression more apologetic than anything. “You’ve taken too much yet again, and not given yourself time to rest.” You sighed, walking closer as your eyes scanned the nightstand beside the bed. A few small bowls appeared to be spread around it, guessing they must have been left there by Qiqi. But it also meant he’d been here for more than half a day. You began to stack the bowls, somewhat glad that he’d at least eaten something. “I will be fine, honestly. A short rest was in order, nothing more.” He tried to explain himself gently, but it was no use for his defence. “You look worse for wear compared to the last time I saw you…” You sighed, finding yourself oddly upset by the situation. Not angry, never. But upset that he had to live like this. Or chose to, as it more seemed. The first time you’d learned of his contract with the snake, you had begun to think of the creature as a parasite. Feasting on someone else's life force only to sustain her own. Yet, the more you saw Baizhu long to help others even at the risk of his own health, you started to understand his decision.

Baizhu seemed to have caught up with your thoughts, head slightly tilted. He didn’t say anything, yet wishing to ask if you were okay but sensing the irony of asking such things. So he hoped you’d understand him without speaking up on the matter. “I’ve told you to look after yourself.” A sight leaves you, defeated by this point yet still caring. “I admit, I may have overexerted myself a little more than necessary. But believe me when I say, it is nothing fatal.” He replied, coughing after. You noticed the bloodied cloth he was using, shaking your head at the sight. “Seems an awful lot like it will be one of these days.” You answer, gently taking the cloth from him and placing it in one of the empty bowls, knowing you’d take them out with you before leaving. “Forgive me, I did not mean that”, you feel the need to add after a moment of silence. “I merely worry for you out of care.” Which was true, only you hoped he knew the true depths of such feelings. The doctor had taken a breath in an attempt to reply, but a coughing fit disturbed him. You frown, turning to him as you place a fresh cloth on the nightstand for him. “I know, though I do recall telling you not to.” He finally has the chance to say. 

You do not reply to that, being aware that he had indeed said so, yet you saw it as absurd. How could you not, he was dear to you. Though, at times it felt like caring after someone who already slipped beyond your grasp. 

You moved onto the bed, sliding yourself behind him on the soft surface. The snake gave you space out of respect for the attempt to talk some sense into him, slithering to the doctor’s lap. You’d noticed what kind of a mess his hair was, assuming he wouldn’t mind if you fixed it for him. So you didn’t exchange any words with the man, brushing your fingers through his long hair. If you hadn’t known any better, you wouldn’t have noticed the way his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. The sight erased the former frown from your face as you continued, being able to sort out his hair without a comb. “Hot flashes?” You question him gently, wanting a better perspective on how he was feeling. And above that, you knew a part of him enjoyed being taken care of, being asked the same sort of questions he asked on the daily. ‘Mhm’, a soft agreeing noise responded. “Cold chills?” You continued with the questions, gently gathering some of his hair and twisting it into the familiar bun you were used to seeing him with. ‘Yes’, another agreeing reply, feeling him lean back as you secured the bun. “Hm, I diagnose you bedridden until you feel better.” You chuckled slightly, placing one of the longer pieces of hair he had out of the bun over his shoulder. “Ah, what an awful faith.” He tried to chuckled, a cough replying to the attempt of that. “Now lay down, I’ll come back to check up on you.” You place a hand on his shoulder before getting up from the bed to give him space. He didn’t seem to argue against the idea, laying down rather willingly. You go to pick up the bowls, giving the man one last look before exiting the room. 

AN// Happy new year to everyone who made it to the end, as I know I won't be posting anymore on this side of the year. Concearning my writing this year, yall have made it as amazing as it has been. Thank you, as I still cannot quite comprehend how many people have followed along this mess of a blog <3

[sloganeeer]

17 and dealer's choice of ship (since we are mostly in different fandoms)

17. ...to distract

The dealer chooses her current hyperfixation. A little NYE story about my queer firefighters getting back together, if it kills me.

Send me a Ship and a Number and I will Write a Kiss

Maddie plans the party; Chimney plans the setup.

Buck is over early the day of. He's got three wrapped loaves in his arms and a spinach dip nestled down into a tray of torn bread cubes. After unloading his delivery onto the counter, Jee-Yun barrels into the kitchen and jumps into her Uncle Buck's arms.

"Oof, I got you!" he proclaims, swinging her around, and then they're off down the hall, chattering in their own special language.

"I thought he was going to help decorate," Maddie asks, carrying a box of last year's leftover New Year's goodies.

"No, this is perfect." Chimney grabs her shoulders and smacks a kiss on her cheek. "He'll be distracted. He'll never know Tommy is here until they're smoochin'."

"You don't even know if Tommy is coming."

"I have my ways," Chimney says, waving his phone and picking up his mistletoe, the biggest bunch he could find ("They'll never miss it!"), hidden hastily under this morning's newspaper.

-

The doorbell rings.

"I've got it!" He's been answering the door all night, heart falling each time.

Karen holds a bottle above her head. Hen is wearing a pair of 2020 glasses. ("We found them cleaning out a closet last weekend. Thought I'd get one more use out of them at least.")

"We're here!"

Chimney grabs the wine. "The party can start now!"

Except he's still waiting, watching the mistletoe, like it might move from its spot above the kitchen doorway. He's seen a lot of kisses tonight (Bobby dipped Athena so low they both needed an assist to get back to their feet), but not the one he's counting on.

Hen squints at him over her glasses fallen to the end of her nose. She's wearing the 2020s on her head now. "I thought we agreed not to get in the middle of this mess."

"That was two months ago," Eddie says from his perch on the back of the couch. "They need help."

"I need more cookies," she says, standing and walking away.

Chimney calls after her. "Fine, but you don't get to bask in the glory of our victory!" He holds a hand up for Eddie to slap. Eddie misses and hits his elbow.

The doorbell rings.

Buck, passing through the foyer with Jee-Yun on his shoulders, crown on her head, calls out, "I'll get it!"

Chimney jumps up, knocking Karen's glass to the floor, mopping up the worst of it with his socked feet as he races to the door.

"Nope, nope, nope." He slips easily around Buck and grabs the doorknob before him.

"Hi, Daddy." Jee-Yun waves from her perch.

"Your highness."

"What's going on, Chim?" Buck asks. There's a look in his eyes.

"Nothing, nothing. I'm doing my hoster duties. I've got the door."

"Why don't you want me to answer it?" That looks bores past Chimney's eyes and into his brain. The kid's not a kid anymore, is he?

"Nothing, nothing. Oh, look at the time." He raises his wrist to flash the watch face for Jee-Yun to see. "Time for bed."

"But we didn't count," she says with a pout.

“Yeah, Chim,” Buck says. The doorbell rings again. “We didn’t count.”

As fast as he can, Chim counts, “5, 4, 3, 2, 1,” he shouts, “Happy new year,” grabs his daughter’s face to press a kiss on her lips, and then does the same to Buck, mouths sliding sticky together from Jee-Yun’s favourite lychee chapstick.

Buck’s eyes are wide when they pull apart. Jee-Yun is ecstatic, clapping and giggling. Behind him, on the other side of the door, Chimney hears a voice.

“Howie, just let me in.”

[cherribabeyyyy]

i can't stop thinking about natasha and sampo: a hyperfixation-induced oneshot

I hear an overly complicated knock at the door and I know instantly who it is. Th children seem to catch on, as well, as squeals of delight erupt among the masses swarming to the door. "He's here! he's here!"

The door opens just a crack.

"Can I come in?" Without waiting for an answer, the door swings open to reveal Sampo, precariously balancing several crates chock full of items. "It's me~!"

A sigh breaks its way through my smiling lips. Most of those things are medical supplies that I desperately need to start organizing and distributing, but that'll be impossible with the sea of kids between Sampo and I. And that's if I can even get to him before he drops it all. "Alright, everyone, settle down," I say, trying to get ahead of the frenzy. Sampo begins shifting to narrowly avoid dropping a crate as he sees the masses move toward him. "Uh... Hi, hey how you doing... Oh- pardon me..."

With some more encouragement the sea finally parts and allows me to reach him. My next words come out softly-- a stark contrast from my previous tone. "Hello, you."

"Hello to you too," says Sampo, flashing me his signature grin. He turns to the crowd, always eager to please even when uncomfortable, "Here we have everything you asked for on your list, and more, Miss Natasha and company, because that's just how you do it when you're Sampo Koski!"

I smile back. "Well, on behalf of myself and the children, we thank you. Now, could I start taking those off your hands before disaster strikes?" He tries to brush me off, convince me he's fine, but I start taking them anyway. I can hear the quiet sigh of relief he lets out when his hands are free. Relief quickly turns back to discomfort as one child pulls on his pantleg. "Did you bring us any toys, mister Sampo?"

"Oh, actually, as a matter of fact-" before he can even end the sentence, small hands shoot up all around him. I can't help but giggle as the grabbing motions start and kids are pushing each other's hands out of the way.

"Can I have it? Can I have it?" "No, you got one three times ago, let someone else have a turn!"

I clap my hands as loud as I can in a simple pattern. The first time about half of the horde repeats the pattern back to me and sits down cross-legged. The second time, almost everyone, and by the third clap the room is quiet and attentive once more. "I will be giving out the toys for kids who are on their best behaviour this week, so you'd all better be well behaved!" A few children visibly sit up straighter at this announcement.

A hand shoots up, wiggling its fingers.

"Yes, dear?"

"Um, can we at least see what the toys are," squeaks a little girl. "so we know if we want them?" I shake my head. "Seele, are you asking to PEEK at the surprise? Wouldn't that be... cheating?" Upset covers her tiny face in a flash. "NO! I would never cheat at anything."

"Aw, c'mon," Sampo suddenly interrupts. "Maybe I can give them a hint? Just a small one!" This, of course, causes the room once again erupts various voices saying something to the effect of "please, miss Natasha?" I make a mental note to once again ask Sampo not to rile the crowd against me for social gain within the orphanage. "Fine," I concede, "just one."

"The thing is..." he shout-whispers, crouching down to be closer to the children, "its a special toy. A really special one. So special, I can only think of one person to give it to." Suddenly I hear whispers break out, often so quickly hushed by other kids that I don't have time to discern what they're saying. I look around the room but nothing gives me any clue as to what's going on. I turn back to Sampo, who seems to be very uncomfortable being so close to the kids but making no effort to move. What is he scheming?

All at once, the children back run outside. Some yell "bye, mister Sampo!" as they run past him. I'm... honestly impressed. "How'd you manage that?"

"Oh, I told them we'd be kissing." Immediately upon seeing my expression, his face flushes and he backpedals. "I didn't- I didn't mean it like that, Nat..." He stops. "Oh, hey, That. Nat! Ha, I didn't even do that on- anyway, I just figured kids hate kissing, right? Grosses them out! Not that kissing you would be gross, of course, but that's besides the point,"

Ignoring him, I stare at the small object in his hand. It glitters in the evening light marvelously. "Is that the toy?"

"Oh, yeah. Well, it's not a toy, but it is what I was talking about." He extends his hand toward me. "For you." On his palm lies a small green stone. I pick it up, running my thumb across its smooth polished surface, feeling its weight in my hand. I ask Sampo what it is.

"Honestly, I have no idea. But I do know that you'd like it. Or I hoped you would, anyway." I turn to him and come face to face with big, hopeful eyes. "Do... do you like it?"

I nod. "Yes. Thank you, Sampo."

His shoulders untense and that signature grin returns to his face. "Ok. Good. I'm glad."

I turn around and begin sorting the crates. With the kids out playing, I might be able to get it all done before dinnertime if I start now. I start by making three simple piles: painkillers, medicine, and first aid. Hands busy at work, I continue the conversation with Sampo over shoulder. "Oh, and you were very brave to be so close to the children."

"Ugh, I know, right? I could see the snot coming out of so many noses, Nat. So. Many. Noses." He shudders. "I don't know how you do it every day, being around all these little... guys." I can't help but to giggle and reply, "same way I handle being around you: be careful not to indulge you too much lest you get too riled up."

"Aw, hey, that's not very nice! After all I do for you!" He protested, walking around the desk so he could show me that he had his hand over his heart. "How rude, miss Natasha! I have half a mind to walk out that door right now!"

I briefly look up at him to show him the disbelief on my face before returning to organizing. "and you'd come running back when you remember no one else would hire you."

It was Sampo's turn to laugh. "Oh, you know I'd figure something out. I wouldn't be Sampo Koski if I wasn't-"

"Crafty?"

"I was going to say resourceful, but that works too. Regardless," he said, moving closer to me, "you just like having me around." I turn to him, ready to shoot another look of disbelief, but I didn't realize how close he was to me. I move my eyes up to properly meet his expression this time, and it's.... softer than I thought it would be. The moment I feel my cheeks get warm, I turn back to the supplies. I'm almost finished. "Not as much as the kids like having you around. I fear I'm getting replaced as their favourite."

"Pssht. Please, Nat, they love you. And I mean who wouldn't?" He puts his hand down on the table, now leaning on his arm. "You're like... well, I hate to get so morbid, but you're like the mother they've never had."

My eyes widen as I get a thought. A thought I would normally never be so bold as to speak out loud, but I say anyway: "Would that make you the father they've never had?"

Now its Sampo whose cheeks flush pink as he jumps up, scratching his neck as he fumbles for a response. "I hope not. I'm clearly very horrible with children, as you know and have clearly seen. Many times. Even now, today! The noses, Nat! The noses!"

I place a final roll of bandage into the first aid pile, I raise my head to be face to face with him again. His cheeks flush harder, and before I have time to overthink, I giggle and kiss him on the cheek. "I think you'd be a wonderful dad, Sampo."

"Natasha..." I watch his eyes dart from my eyes to my lips. He starts to slowly lean in. I go to close the gap-

"EWWW! They really ARE kissing!"

Our heads swivel around. Through the window, we can see several children are peeking into the room, many of them with tongues out and pretending to vomit. "GROSS!" Sampo and I slide away from each other, a little embarrassed, but smiling all the same. Making a quick recovery, he stomps outside shouting something about finding the "punks" who spied on him.

Soon the dinnertime bell rings, and its time to say goodbye and goodnight. I watch the children wave to Sampo as they shuffle back inside. Some even get a high-five from the man, who is kind enough to wait until everyone is inside to wipe his hand on his pants. I chuckle at the sight, which causes a sheepish look to spread on his face. I chuckle again. "Goodnight, Sampo."

He smiles, opens his mouth to say something, then shakes his head. Not even ten feet later, Sampo turns back, walking toward me.

"Decided to say it after all?" I ask.

He nods, stopping directly in front of me. "For the record," he says, "Even if you don't like having me around, which I can respect even if I don't believe it-" he says through that classic grin- "I like being around you."

I kiss him on the cheek again, returning the sentiment. "I like being around you, too."

[raywriteshere]

Tagged by the lovely @thiamsxbitch for this game!

what is your DOH (drink outfit hyperfixation) or DOB (drink outfit book) of the day? i also accept DOHBF (drink outfit hyperfixation book fanfic/fanwork). the F can be something you’re working on yourself or that you’re reading/engaging with.

Drink: For the first time in many years, it's not Mountain Dew. (Though I'm certainly keeping my local grocery store's numbers up there too.) Been basically obsessed with a pineapple mango juice I bought on a whim recently. My counter has so many empty bottles... I need to figure out a good way to recycle them ngl. ^^"

Outfit: I pretty much wear some combo of cargo shorts/jeans and a graphic tshirt every day. The only thing that differentiates me from a cartoon character is my ever changing hair. I rarely wear it the same way twice in a row.

Hyperfixation/Book: Generally speaking? Omegaverse. I have a bunch of of WIPs I've been bouncing between and they're highly distracting given I have fics I'm trying to finish. I think I shared a snippet of one WIP (Wynrich Brothers) a few weeks back, so here's the other big one. I am referring to this particular short story with them as 'A Knotty Birthday' in my head and that title may just stick because I like puns. Nothing nsfw in the snippet though, just suggestion.

A sharp click from the living room signaled his front door opening. Will didn't look up from his book, merely calling a quick "Bedroom!" to tell his boyfriend where to find him. Only three people had keys to his apartment besides him after all, and his parents consistently knocked first now. One too many embarrassing moments would do that. Seth, however, had no problem with walking in on him in compromising positions. Sometimes Will thought the other man timed his visits a little too well. But Will wasn't in the shower this time. "Spending your birthday in bed?" Seth asked with a chuckle. Settled back against his headboard, Will hummed. "Not my birthday yet," Will answered on reflex and turned the page. He clicked his tongue, taking a breath. His own question freezing in his chest as he inhaled. Seth laughed again. Voice dipping low as he drawled, "Yeah, I know, but I thought I'd give you your present early."

The book dropped from his hand as Will looked up. His eyes widened, nostrils flaring. A soft groan escaped his lips.

Leaning against the doorframe, Seth stood, smirking. His head tilted to the side so one of the primary scent glands on his neck was fully exposed. The air drifting over the red skin of Seth's throat and dragging his scent inward.

"You smell amazing~" Will whined, head falling back as he breathed in the thick musk of an omega's arousal. He cursed, biting at his bottom lip, "Did you seriously walk around the city like that?"

Omegas always had the strongest scents. A consequence of their mating reflexes. Bodies built to signal when their heats were coming, when their tempers flared.

Their scents a warning, setting off alarm bells for every alpha that caught a whiff.

"I wore a scarf," Seth shrugged, still lingering the doorway. His head ducked forward to hide a grin as Will groused.

Dark hair fell forward, short strands tickling at Seth's face, at the tops of his eyebrows. Will's gaze dragged over his boyfriend's features. The sharp angles of his chin, his square jaw. Those deep set eyes. Loose strands cast shadows over them all, emphasizing them.

"You're teasing me," Will huffed, throat bobbing as he narrowed his eyes on the omega. His messy hair. "You never wear it loose like that..."

"But you like it loose?" Seth quirked a brow, head tilting the opposite direction. A fresh wave of his scent pouring out from the opposite gland. Will choked, hands fisting in the sheets. "And I wanted to please you today..." A short pause, a drop in his voice, "...alpha."

No Pressure Tags: @idontevenknowhowtolife @rhyslahey @aadmelioraa @xtarmanderx @strangerfandomfiascos @byrdsofthenyte

[spaceheadcadet]

I've been hyperfixated with a RnM for about two months now. Fairly new into the fandom, I know. Feeling kinda late, but oh well. And I like Doofus Rick. Especially after seeing a blog that drew him so well, I just can't stop. It made me really sad that I'm two–three, eh, heck many years late into this small wonderful side of the fandom. Anyway enough about the rant. I'll just post the thing I typed.

P.s. I haven't thought of a title yet.

It's a reader insert and I don't know how slow I can get the burn going. But here's part 1. Not proof read so I hope it's coherent.

It was raining when you saw him for the first time. Right in front of his yard, just standing alone and drenched in cold…from the heavenly tears falling down the sky. How melodramatic. Not that you judge the guy. You were just concern. 

Surely he’d be sick by tomorrow. Because your weak ass immune system definitely would. 

You were on your way to the old house that night,  the house you inherited from the man who made you never acknowledge the word father in your entire dysfunctional life. Just another ordinary night under the wailing sky, on your way to that cold shelter after a tiring day at work. You were fairly new into the neigborhood so you ignored him at first. Days turned to weeks and the rumours soon reached your notice, giving you more reasons to ignore the man with a blue bowl-cut hair. 

They said he was weird and something else you decide to dismissed until proven. 

Still it made you no better than the rest of the people that always belittles the man, turning your head the other way, passively you were still considered as an accomplice. But what good will it even do if you’re a nobody trying to survive just for another day. 

So, you carried on, passing by him multiple times whenever it rains or whenever you saw him into a nicer weather, you ignored him. Nothing but a coward hiding behind the mask of indifference and excuses. 

On some occasions you would see a glimpse of an entirely different persona on the man, whenever he was interacting with the next door neighbors. He was all smiles, naivety emitted from his demeanor, like a child wearing oversize clothes to pass off as an adult. Entirely different from the times you saw him standing under the rain. He was also a soft spoken fellow with an occasional stutter either caused by anxiety or a condition. 

You never understood how he could keep acting like he wasn’t ridiculed between hushed conversations and judging eyes. Always been optimistic or simply keeping himself into this safe bubble of blissful ignorance. Or how he was still treating everyone with kindness even though most of his efforts to reach out were usually reciprocated with a cold shoulder. 

And you were no different from them after he knocked on your door one morning, offering to help clean up the overgrown and neglected yard, another attempt to get to know you. Although his intention was pure coming from the polite offer, you halfheartedly decline. You didn’t want anything to do with him. 

Annoyingly on the next day it made you finally mow the lawn and clean up the overgrown in the backyard. It took a few months of ignoring the state of the house before you finally got the motivation needed to clean and fix the damn place, all thanks to the neighborhood's doofus(it’s mostly what you’d been hearing from the people around) knocking on your doorstep. You hoped that would be the last he would bother you. Since the first(giving you a box of cupcakes as a welcoming gift) interactions you got from him immediately garnered side glances in your direction. 

Sometimes you wished you were not so emotionally restrictive sometimes. To have even a miniscule amount of care to enact compassion instead of sticking by the comfort of apathy. 

Maybe time would come when you gathered enough courage to do something, even a small act of kindness. But for now you turned your head the other way, in the safety by him getting out of your field of vision. 

…

Neon signs and street lights blur behind the window, droplets of the rain started pelting on the glass. The sound of it stirred you out of your shallow-dazed sleep. It’s raining again. A tired resigned sigh fogged the cold material seeping through your forehead. 

Everything felt heavier, sluggish, and dizzying. You blinked off the dizziness fogged your vision.

Fucking great. 

Soon the bus slowed into the halt reaching the bus stop, it was your stop. Unsteady from intoxication you stumbled almost tripping forward, when the driver finally hit the break. You really hate your aunt sometimes, showing herself unannounced in your work, and dragging you to have a drink with her. 

A hasty apology blurted out of your mouth when you grabbed into one of the steel pole, startling the old man near it. You continued scrambling out of the bus until you get out with slurred thanks for the driver, and then run towards the waiting shed. Resting a bit on the bench you rummaged inside your bag for the folded umbrella. The rain went harder as if the sky was punishing you. You’re going home with a pair of wet socks and shoes again. Ugh, it didn’t help that you were barely walking straight. But the urge to eat and drink something just to remove the aversive sweetness at the back of your tongue, along with the burning emptiness in your stomach, maybe even brushing your teeth twice to be sure afterwards, was enough motivation for you to finally move your drunken ass. 

The umbrella opened with a pop and you walked towards the direction of the house with a slight sway in your gait. 

Your lips curved from a wince when the cold water started seeping through. Soggy fucking socks never felt good, one of the reasons why you always hated the rain. 

Hate. You always hated things. The prominent emotion you had growing up, so you grew to hate things that were constant in your life, just like the rain, just like the taste of the alcohol coated on your tongue. You hated that you had to walk wet all the way through the house. The damn house that was thrown into you because it was old, ugly, rotting, along with the people that had never been part of your life, either physically and emotionally. You hate–

Damn it! 

You stopped, eyes casted down on your shoes. You needed to stop or your thoughts will spiral back into that dark room. 

The hollowness in your chest itched the urge for a smoke. To fill your lungs, the sting, and burn down your throat just for the momentary feel of fullness expands in your chest. 

Desperate for a distraction to latch on to something, anything that will prevent you from further fanning the flame of self-hate just to keep the empty coldness in your chest consumed you.  

You couldn’t keep doing this to yourself. Sighing heavily you looked up again, walking with more urgency this time. After taking a right turn, although your vision blurred a bit from moving your head faster towards the certain direction, a routine your attention gravitated to without fail, again he was there. 

Another variable that becoming constant in your life. 

Fueled by spite and vodka you stop on the other side of the street right in front of his house. This guy, what was so bad in his life that he have to stand under the fucking rain every time. Why does he act like the most pathetic human being right now? Why couldn’t he stay smiling and be naive? Why did you have to see this every time? 

The march came to a halt when you reached his unmoving figure, head tilted up in the sky, eyes shut from the world around him. Up close he looked…mournful. Calmly making peace with the antagonizing torrent around him. Like crying through his eyes wasn’t enough anymore that he had to cry along the sky. 

Stretching your arms forward you extended the umbrella towards him. Coldness started cascading the side and back of your head down to your nape, easing a bit of the heat caused by the alcohol and temper.  

He must be so deep in his mind that he hadn’t noticed your presence, but soon enough the lack of the rain hitting his face tugged him back in the moment. At first he only looked at the dark underside of the umbrella, then his head dropped, aligning his vision in your direction. He stared at you for a while, eyes still in deep before the awareness slowly stirring. 

A shake in your arm from the ache urged you to grab his cold hand guiding it on the handle. Both of your hands pressed his to secure the hold on the handle before you let go. And without saying a word you left. 

“Wait!” 

You pretend you didn’t hear him but you overestimate your ability to stride when your legs were barely stable, you were on the verge of puking your guts out, and head throbbing from the heaviness of exhaustion. 

So, color you surprised when a hand landed on your shoulder and the force of his pull easily knocked your balance. You forgot to take into account that your clumsiness shines whenever the alcohol was absorbed into your system. 

Stepping behind to rebalance yourself only resulted in slipping onto the wet surface before gravity won, once again. 

“Aw, geez, you slipped. Are you alright?” 

In an instant he was helping you, pulling you back up. The umbrella crookedly wedged between his neck and shoulders in an attempt to keep the umbrella upright.

“You shouldn’t have followed me,” you grumbled while stabilizing your balance again. 

“Why shouldn’t I? You just left your umbrella, not that I don’t appreciate the gesture but now you are all wet. And I’m already drenched, so I don’t think I will need the–”

Damn you forgot that he rambles. “Keep it. You look like you need it more than I do.” You said ignoring most of his ramblings. 

He kept following you though and trying to cover you from the rain with the umbrella you’d just given him. Annoying long legged creature. 

“But I already own a few. I don’t need–”

“Then maybe use it next time. That’s its purpose after all.” You spat a little when a drop of rain hit your mouth.

“If you know its purpose then why are you giving it to me? You own this after all. You shouldn’t. You.. Why…why are you suddenly doing this?” 

You really wanted to reach your–the house faster and puked until your vision get hazy from tears, puked until you were sobbing and barely holding yourself up from the intensity of it, then maybe just maybe it would expel all the hate festering your insides, leaving holes. Then maybe you could stop latching into the battered mask from the accumulated resentment, finally let yourself grief, be free. 

“Because I need to feel the rain.” 

The crack in your hardened voice oozed the pain underneath the piled bricks of hate, built up like a pillar where you placed all other emotions you have. High, unreachable, detached from the world around you. And the crumbling pieces get into your eyes looking up in resignation, watching your stability crumble. 

You didn’t bother looking back, not even a glance to make sure he was still following you, not even when you no longer heard his footsteps. 

Trickles of hot and cold contradiction trailed on your cheeks. You just wanted to rest your tired eyes, lay down and just sink even for a moment, in the pool of your bottled up emotions. Then maybe this time you would be soaked enough of it to fill the pit inside. Hold all of it back inside and hope you are strong enough under pressure, the weight of it all the love that left nowhere to go.  

…

Fingers tapping hastily on the screen of the phone, you promised you’d never walk under the rain ever again. You didn’t regret it, but you were not doing it again. 

An itch in your throat spasmed a cough out of you. It came into strings, chains of events that after the bouts of scratching your throat in a form of dry coughing, now you feel it all raw. Sore throat was one of the signs your immune system had been compromised. 

You tapped the send. A simple notification for your supervisor that you couldn’t make it in the studio today. You even used your Aunt for a lame excuse, it’s her fault anyway. Forcing you to have a girls night which always entails consuming a large amount of alcohol. Always easier to blame others than hold yourself accountable, wow, you really do progress—ing further into being a POS. 

As you waited for the reply you grabbed the jar of honey in one of the cupboards for your tea. You clicked your mouth shut after the yawn, wincing from the pain when you swallowed again. 

In your temporary office, multiple boxes were still stacked in the corner of the room, a faded silhouette of squares and rectangles left on the obnoxious green wallpaper(not even the nice shade of green), some parts were even ripped from the posters you tore. You clean the questionable room and attempt to convert it into a small studio. But you still have a lot of work to do, for the room to be in your standard. Yet in the meantime it was better to have a clean workspace. 

When your dopamine was a poltergeist your motivation was equivalent to non existence at this point, except from the few hauntings every now and then.

So, yeah, for now you’d stick with a clean workspace. 

Knowing your supervisor the moment you open up your email you already got a job order. Man, even the concept of life and death didn’t jolt your supervisor even a bit, always the diligent asshole. 

An hour of editing later you needed another cup of tea for your throat and maybe food for your grumbling stomach. You almost grabbed a packet of cigarette and lighter, staring at the item contemplating if you would risk it. At the end the cigarette left untouched. 

Back in the kitchen you stood in front of the open refrigerator blankly staring inside the cold contraptions. You close it taking a deep breath before opening the ref again as if you were expecting the food in your mind wouldmanifest itself. 

There were times when you hated this tedious part of living. This was one of those days. 

Grumbling a curse in your native language you gathered the remaining vegetables and chicken breast. Chicken soup was better than nothing. 

You were in the middle of making another tea after dumping all the ingredients and seasoning in the slow pot cooker, when a knock on the door startled you.

Uhm, you were not expecting a visitor today or even ready to acknowledge the existence of your Aunt just yet. 

Yeah, you were not expecting him standing on your doorsteps again. You stepped back on the door after peeking through the peephole. This is for getting involved, you guess. 

The lock clicked and the door swung open. 

“Hi, neighbor. You must be c-confuse why I’m here again. I won’t take long of your time–”

As he explained his reason for his sudden visit you hear the annoying high pitch voice of the next door neighbor. You purposefully leaned out of the door frame and stared in their direction to announce your presence. Ticked off by the obnoxious one sided conversation the bitch is having with her mother, you started talking back. 

“I know hearing aids are a bit expensive but you better invest some of yourself a pair then maybe you’ll know the difference between inside voice to outside voice. Not that I care about your opinion though,” you clear your throat “I just don’t like hearing your whinny grating voice Susan.” 

Although Susan(not her real name) starts talking shit, her mom winces since she understood the sentiment, while you winced for a different reason. 

“That’s not nice,” he whispered. 

You looked up at your visitor, hand still covering your mouth as you cough. How long did you have to talk? It was irritating your throat. 

“I’m not nice,” you just set the stone further. 

He frowned, disappointed that didn’t shy away from his expression. 

“And not a liar,” you didn’t know why you added that. It kinda slipped out…for some reason. You sighed and held out your hand. 

Blue hair swayed to the side as he tilted his head displaying his confusion. God, your patience was already wearing thin when you could still hear the annoying neighbor’s voice now muffled by the confine of their house, the mom must have dragged her inside. 

“The *ehem umbrella. You said you’re here to return it.” Totally ignoring the other part of his speech. 

He looked even more disappointed when he unfolded both of his hands from his back, handing the umbrella to your waiting hand. 

A glimpse of the tupperware still in his other hand further confirmed the source of his disappointment. 

“How long will the muffins last?” 

And like a puppy finally getting his headpats he perked up. Still his enthusiasm had a pinch of confusion. 

“If you must know, these will last for five days if you keep it in this container,” then he showed you the tupperware. “Although the muffins taste the best when you eat it on the same day it’s baked. I was hoping you would like it freshly baked. W-why are you asking?” 

Unfolding your arms you point your throat. “Sore throat. Can’t eat sweets for a while.” 

“Oh, no. You got sick because you left your umbrella to me last night.” 

You waved off his concern. “It’s already sore from all the tequila shots from last night’s drinking. Along with my smoking habits,” you really wanted to end this conversation. 

The lanky blue haired neighbor on the other hand had something else on his mind as he pushed the tupperware in your arms. 

“I’ll be back,” he even gave you a reassuring smile

You watched him run towards his house, perplexed from what was that all about. What did you just get yourself into?

Not even a full hour until you heard knocking on the door again. Shoving your phone in the pocket of your sweater you slowly made your way towards the door. Before you open the door though you pull up the hood of your sweater enough to ease the chills on your nape. 

Your expression stays neutral as the guy greeted you with his signature buoyant smile, emphasising his buck teeth further. 

“Here, I made you a medicine for your throat,” he proceeded to show you a labelless bottle. “You just have to gargle fifteen millilitres of this for forty-five seconds. Make sure to time it right. Although this tastes more unpleasant than the regular oral antiseptic solution, it will soothe your sore throat in an instant.” 

This guy really talked a lot. You're just being polite listening to him till the end of his speech, but sometimes you wished he would make it short. And did you hear him right? He made it? Examining the labelless bottle, watching the orange liquid with concern. More concerned about the possible taste instead of the possibility of something horrible. 

“Thanks,” you cleared your throat again as you croaked. 

“You sound worse than before.” 

You just hummed this time. You’d been coughing a lot earlier, even nauseous since you are still recovering from getting stupidly drunk last night. 

“Have you eaten anything yet? Do you n-need help with anything else?” concern became dominant in his tone and he had this look like the two of you were already a long time friend. 

His sudden full blown concern didn’t settle well with you, even though you knew he was all good with his intentions you’re not used to genuinity. And you couldn’t berate him since you felt like sand had been poured in your throat. 

“Don’t bother. You’ve helped enough already,” you stepped back and held the door but you paused, having a second thought to just be a piece of shit as usual. “Thank you again, Rick,” you gently closed the door behind you but not without noticing the surprise, opening his eyes wider, looking comically wide awake than ever. 

The door clicked shut. 

…

Well, you survived. 

The medicine the neighbor gave you was indeed effective. The day after you were back to normal. Still the same indifferent bitch but cured of common sickness for a fragile peasant like you. 

As for the neighbor that helped you, only a few small things had changed. Like a simple nod from you when he waved in your direction. At first he looked utterly confused, eventually he seemed to accept that was the only form of greeting he would get from you.

You also received small packaged treats hanging on your door knob since you only get home twice a week because of a major project the studio got recently. 

Torn from this development you kept glancing on the cookies packed in a small plastic packaging secure with a baby blue ribbon. 

With a deep breath you let your back slumped on the backrest of the office chair. You raise your hand and reach for the anti-rad glasses your Aunt gifted you, and removed it. 

A groan prompted out of you when you stretched your back, arms extending, another tense muscles unravelled, before dropping your arms. 

Dull white ceiling encompassed your vision. You couldn’t wait for the project to reach its completion. Cramped up in the office for too long was making you sick.   

Curtains of brown hair and a pair of gentle brown eyes appeared on the edge of your vision, peering down at you. “Hey, wanna take a break?” 

“Not yet, T. Go take a break without me. I’m just stretching my back a bit.” 

His face moved out of your vision like he was pulled away. “Alright, but maybe you should stop teasing yourself with that cookie,” he left with a good natured chuckle on his trail. 

“Mind your damn business, T,” you grumbled feeling a bit annoyed. 

Silence ruled the small room, making your thoughts louder once you were alone again. 

Long deep breaths sucked the cold stale air through your nose, for a second you held your breath before slowly blowing it out through your mouth. You repeated the breathing exercise and stopped when lethargy was comfortably sitting on your shoulders. A push from your arms you pulled yourself upright and reached for the glasses beside the graphic tablet. As you pushed the glasses back your eyes it landed back on the cookies on the corner of your desk. 

The sound of the plastic crinkling disturbed the silence of the room. Up close you already had a feeling that the flavor of the cookies was another miss. 

It seemed like he made the whole thing a guessing game for the lack of feedback from your end. Might as well try it since everything he gave you so far was all good. 

Raisins

Soft chime of laughter rippled into the stagnant quiet room. 

…

“Soooo, are you gonna tell me why you asked for a drive to the grocery store?” pair of brown eyes peering suspiciously at you from the rearview mirror. 

“Please stay being my good friend, T.”

“First of all, I’m your only friend which instantly gives me the vacant spot for the best friend position. Second, you never cease to be creative, especially when you are avoiding something. Third, I am your best friend, not your complacent pleb,” he checked on you again through the rearview mirror. 

“Now I feel attacked.” 

“One of the privileges.”

“I’ll take it back then. This is an exploit.”

“Sorry no take backs. Nuh, uh. The pack is permanent and you sign it, Helen even witnessed the exchange of agreement. You shall face my wife’s wrathful curses if you stop respecting the pack. And it will be a very ugly affair,” he said with the voice he usually used when he was doing the impersonation of his wizard oc.  

“Oh, my, god! Stop it you nerd,” although you were shaking your head you were having a hard time holding your laughter from the fond memories. “Ok, ok, you got me. I suddenly crave a home cooked meal. Getting fed up with consecutive days of take out.”

This time you saw him looking sad, possibly missing his son and wife. “Yeah, me too. I miss Helen’s cooking and my pyjamas.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I want to sleep on an actual bed. I need my heavy pillow.”

T, makes a gagging sound. “You need a boyfriend, asap.”

“Can you not! The pillow is like the equivalent of a weight blanket.” 

“The need to have something heavy beside you, is an equivalent of unmet need for physical touch, buddy.” The car finally stopped. “You can’t stay living like a single goblin for life.”

“Bet.” 

“Oh, I’m telling this to Helen,” then he started doing his evil laugh. 

Head shook from hilarity but the giddy babbling in your guts kept stretching your lips into a tender smile. “Damn it, Thomas! Don’t ruin my goblin life fantasy.”

Chuckling as he tucked the stray strands of his long hair behind his ears, he finally exited the car. “No can do. Now come on. The goblin lord needs to do their shopping.”

…

Familiar smell of the savory seafood dish in your home country continued teasing your appetite. Sure you missed the place from time to time, paid a visit multiple times a year as much as possible. But that was before. Now all you could do was just reminisce about the old times. 

The egg almost slipped out of your hand while peeling the shell, getting lost in your head again. Your shoulders sagged, the sound of your huff was thick of nostalgia, homesick to the place that was never yours. 

You shook your head and redirected your emotion at bashing one of the eggs on the countertop harder than necessary. This time you pick up the pace of peeling the eggs for the toppings. 

Maybe it was time for another cigarette break. 

…

You swore the next door neighbor will be the death of you. You stepped out of the damn house just to smoke in peace, and next thing you were helping old poor Victoria pulled the dumb raccoon out of the gap in the wooden fence. 

While Susan screamed in the background. 

“Vicky. Ma’am for the sake of my eardrum, calm your daughter down,” you said, almost pleading with the older woman. 

Dumb raccoon and its fatass. You tried prying the wood so it could wiggle out of the gap but you forgot this furball doesn’t have the ability of the cat. And the only way to remove the helpless animal was to pull it out. 

You made sure the sleeves of your hoodie were down just in case the furball decides to get too feisty. It screeched louder when you pulled it bit by bit. When you unstuck half of its upper body you grabbed it by the nape. 

The raccoon kept fighting in your hold as you carried it towards the elder woman. 

“Throw it! Throw that ugly thing away!” Susan kept chanting. 

And being the shit you were, you swung the animal towards her. The woman screamed bloody murder while she scrambled away. 

“You shouldn’t keep feeding this fatass, ma’am.”

“Oh.” Vicky’s face sagged upon frowning. “I always wanted a pet. But you know my daughter’s husband. He didn’t like animals,” she said as she played with the hem of her blouse. 

You looked up in the sky and hoped you had enough patience remaining not to get involved. It hurt you that the old lady couldn’t enjoy doing what she loves because of some asshole’s opinion. Vicky was old and she deserved to live and enjoy what she wanted. 

“I’m sorry, Vicky.” 

“No, it’s ok. Thank you for helping me. You are right though. It got bigger,” chuckling Vicky took a last look at the raccoon, there was a sadness in her eyes as she smiled in resignation. 

“It’s fat for getting spoiled by a sweet old lady,” you said smiling back at her as you readjusted your hold on the animal. 

Vicky chuckles but it didn’t sound cheery per usual, waving goodbye at you on your way out of their lawn. 

On your way out though you saw another neighbor standing on the doorstep of the house. The whole interaction with Vicky already drained your social battery, added that there was still this fatass in your clutch you needed to take care off. 

Back facing you, his shoulders look wider from the lack of his usual white coat. So, he owned other clothes besides his usual get up. Kind of remind you of Thomas from the initial stage of getting to know the guy. 

“What do you want?” you asked in a tone firmer than earlier. 

His shoulder hitched, obviously startled from hearing you out of the house. 

“I’m just checking if you are ba–why do you have a raccoon?” he asked, pointing at the wriggling furball in your hold. 

“Tried being a food burglar next door. Fatty got stuck on the wrong gap of the fence.” 

“You helped Katrina?” 

What a waste of a good name for an awful person. 

“If you mean the screeching pig next door Susan, no. I helped Victoria.” 

That woman didn’t deserve her mother’s love. It kinda pissed you off that was why you never acknowledged the woman by the name her mother bestowed.

“Screeching pig? That’s not a nice thing to say. And her name is not Susan,” he said, reprimanding you again. 

“I’m not nice. And she does sound like a pig. Anyway, what are you doing here?” 

He followed you all the way to the backyard. Searching for something to temporarily contain the raccoon before bringing it to the nearest animal shelter later. 

“Aren’t you releasing the raccoon?”

You breathe through your nose before expelling the air through your mouth, so closed on snapping at the man. 

“Can’t. Not here.” your jaw clenches as the trash panda continues thrashing. “I’ll bring this fatass to the animal shelter or Victoria’s son in law will hunt this one,” too. 

But you can’t find anything of use. You doubt the box will keep the feisty thing contained. 

“I-I have a carrier if you want you can borrow it.” 

You look at him like he just told you the project in your work is magically done. “Yes, please. Because my fingers are starting to feel numb and this fucker is really, really heavy.” 

“Oh, ok. W-wait here.” Then he was running, long legs stretching into a wide stride. 

The raccoon squirmed again when you switched the hold to your left. 

“Sorry buddy but you have to be away here or you’ll be eating rat poison next time,” Victoria will definitely be devastated again if another animal stinks up dead somewhere in their yard. 

Soon, the lanky neighbor returned with the white carrier, just in time before the ache in your fingers became unbearable. He even helped get the feisty creature in the container. 

“Are you going now?” 

Huh, you almost forgot he was still here. Crouched in front of the faucet washing your hand, you remained quiet. 

Did he think he could meddle with your business just because he lent you the carrier? 

Shaking the water off your hand and waiting for it to dry you took another look at the raccoon. 

“Yeah, why?”

When your hands were less wet you proceeded to rub it on your pants. From the wooden bench adjacent to the wall laid the cigarette and lighter, you grabbed it and about to light one, but paused when the man with buck teeth spoke of the information that entirely slipped out of your mind. 

“Do you k-know where the nearest animal shelter is?” 

Dumb moments, eh, it's natural you got some of those. Although you knew an animal shelter, it was a bus ride away. 

Blowing a long string of smoke to your side away from the standing man near you, you notice him fidgeting, fingers tapping at his side. 

“No. Do you?” you asked even though you have an inkling he’ll start running his mouth again. 

“Oh, yes, I know. In fact it’s the same place where I brought Ms. Carrot—before. I’m still sad about that last visit but I don’t mind taking you there,” and indeed he looks sad, heartbroken even. 

If he fucking cried you swear you’d gonna lose it. 

“Hey, you don’t have to come if it brings back sad memories. Just give me the address and I’ll take it from here.” 

Conflict was obvious by the furrow right in the middle of his unibrow. Hesitation took form by the multiple times his lips parted, words just kept hanging right on the edge, unsaid. 

“It’s fine. Just tell me the address,” you pull out your phone and tap the notes. “I’m still going to drop by for the carrier afterwards.” you held your phone towards him. 

He stares at it for a moment then stares back at you. 

“I’m sorry but I only o-owned a landline phone,” he said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. 

What? Did he just thought that–

Your other hand holding a cigarette moves toward your face, the heel of your palm digs into your eye, rubbing it. You couldn’t level with this guy anymore. 

“Type the address on the phone,” your jaw clench shut in an attempt to grind the insult you choose to keep to yourself. 

Shame colored his face flush of red and he scrambled to grab the phone to save a bit of his dignity. 

“I-I’m sorry. I thought you wanted to exchange numbers with me. N-not because of s-something else. Definitely not s-something else,” awkward chuckle shakes his hunched shoulders. “I’m not trying anything, I swear. J-just wanted to be friends,” he looked all tense as if he was already anticipating some backlash, from the way he moved with caution. 

You took the phone back as he gingerly held it out to you. And a quick apology stuttered out of him again before rushing out of the property.  

Guess you broke the dork without even the intention of doing so. He’s lucky you have a high tolerance for a guy like him.  

A friend, huh?

The cigarette butt scrunched under the force from getting pressed into the ashtray. You just noticed the stickers on the carrier now that you were staring at it with your full attention. 

“A carrot cake? How can vegetables turn into a cake?”

You asked the old woman smoking beside you. 

“That’s the magic of baking and cooking my little sweet tooth. You can make anything taste good if you know what you are doing.” 

Stretch of genuine smile pulled on the darken wrinkled lips of the blurry face looking down at you. Reminiscent from juvenile years slowly faded by the passing of time, yet you still latched on to the pieces of those memories like a lifeline. 

“Time for a walk, fatso,” you said pertaining to the raccoon circling inside the container. Off of the bench you grabbed the carrier and left after checking the location through a gps app.

…

Not expecting the whole 360 of your entire afternoon, you were now standing in front of Rick’s doorsteps, waiting for the door to open and be done with all the socializing for the day. 

The door creaked open, it stayed ajar for a bit before it slowly swung open. Rick greeted you with an awkward smile force on his lips, and before he could speak again you handed him the carrier. 

“Thank you for letting me use this, Rick. And, yes, the visit went well. The volunteers will release the trash panda into the wild tomorrow where it belongs. That’s all.” 

Not waiting for any response you turned around and left. Hungry and mentally drained, you just want to get back in the house. 

“Wait!”

Two steps more and you were out of the property but you were still compelled to stop, human curiosity you guess. You cocked your head urging him to speak. 

“I want to apologize for earlier, for assuming that–that you’re asking for my number. I got a bit carried away, got a bit confident–that we are some sort of friends now.” 

Huh, your brain was no longer braining because of the grumbling of your stomach. Besides the fact that you already got a lot going on in your brain and he just had to add himself in the chaos.

“Look, I’m not upset about it. But about the friend thing. I don’t know about that. Acquaintance, maybe?” you offered. 

“Oh. Yes, of course. Acquaintance. That made sense.” 

Disappointment was nothing new to you. But seeing it on someone with a genuine intention did sting. Especially when you knew he didn’t have a proper connection with people around him, you even heard from Vicky that the man has been alone ever since moving in the neighborhood, no family or relatives visiting, no significant other…nobody. 

“I better get going. Thank you again, Rick.” 

“Ok, goodbye–” The sound and the way he uttered your name was like the clutch from the sleeves, scared…desperate. 

Although you were used to jumping off the boat even before the boat barely sailed away from the shore, it didn’t mean it gets easier to swim. 

Each step still weighs heavily on your ankle. Another chain of shackles was added to the collection.  

Ugh, why do you keep getting involved with lonely people. 

[angelbluediary]

Today is one of those rare, maybe once-a-month days Ginger gets to leave the bedroom and stretch her legs and play in the house. M slept until 6 PM. 6 PM!!!! And I won’t let her out until I’ve put up “barriers” before the dining room closet door and the couch, since she always pushes her toys under there and I don’t want her sneaking and scratching around places/furniture she shouldn’t (since it’s not mine!)…

And I couldn’t do any of that with M sleeping on the couch. Until 6 fucking pm.

How can you say you have insomnia when you sleep all day and choose to stay up at night bc you like that time of day better! Yet when you WANT to go to sleep at a normal hour, you put your head down and are out faster and deeper than anyone I’ve ever known. He sleeps better than me yet keeps pulling the insomnia card and I’m sorry but where!

I don’t know why it aggravates me so much. Maybe I just really miss being able to sleep well.

Update: actually I do know why it bothers me on an even deeper level. Because of his whole “I hate being the golden boy, I hate putting all this pressure on myself and always having to be productive” thing which quite frankly, and not to be mean, but I do not see in action. He seems to procrastinate just as much, if not more, than I ever did but I always got better grades. I worked several different jobs while in school, I DROVE and put myself through driving school to conquer my anxiety and because I knew I couldn’t keep relying on other people to give me transportation. I tried SO HARD to get my life in order and be this amazing, darling “golden child” I’ve never been recognized as because me being boy crazy got me branded a rebellious wild child permanently (despite never sneaking out or partying or getting knocked up or being intimate with anyone I didn’t have a deeper relationship with). I see M sleeping all the time, gaming like I do, and scrolling on social media so much it gives ME secondhand brainrot.

So it drives me insane. Especially when he randomly gets super down and feeling oh-so guilty about being a “disappointment” to our parents and nothing I say gets through to him but I want to shake him and say “if you’re a disappointment what the fuck am I then??? Because you can do no wrong in their eyes and yet you KNOW that and have acknowledged that and say it annoys you? Yet randomly perceive the total opposite and it destroys you when we’re all literally just chilling here on a normal day and you suddenly get deep in your head and get on this again? Where does it COME FROM.”

I feel awful that him being vulnerable with me (about this particular thing) is a major trigger but it INFURIATES me. Like when he talks about how ashamed he feels revealing his interests and hyperfixations to our parents when they seem to actively take a healthy interest in the things he likes. Meanwhile my deepest passions are things my parents strongly dislike and will probably never be able to approve of that side of me (not that they have to), but when I share things I’m interested with or think they’ll enjoy too, genuinely, I get disengaged grunts or am met with silence. Just like the difference between them being interested in Mason’s school life and not responding to me while I actively tried to share those parts of my life with them.

I guess that’s the blessing and curse of having siblings. They relieve pain brought on by parents, but they enhance it too, make it sharper without even meaning to.

[zweigsons]

i hate him, i swear!

jason todd x fem!reader smut ( im going 2 hell for this one )

summary: mistaking love for hate is a funny thing, and you're a fucking comedian.

word count: 2,890!

warnings/other things that happen: nsfw, jason likes biting, slight enemies to lovers dynamic but like i'm forcing it, jason likes praise !! (no surprise to anyone), fluff at the end kinda?? idk what im doing

a/n: posting smut on tumblr and then hiding for 283493574 years this is so embarrassing. i'm so bad at writing nsfw but i hope u like it smile. also this is based off of jason in titans because thats what im hyperfixated on rn

Dick grumbled and ran a hand through his hair, “Listen, we need to talk.”

You shrugged, “About what?”

He sighed, “You and Jason.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Okay, yeah, there is. Sit down, okay?” He asked, gesturing towards one of the chairs in the living room of Titan’s Tower. 

You decided to oblige and settled into the chair, crossing your legs and looking at Dick from across the table that was between them. “Fine. Talk.”

“What’s going on with you two? You’ve been fighting every day, it seems. We’re supposed to be a team, so talk to me about it,” He said, and he had a concerned look on his face that made you feel kind of bad. 

You shrugged again, “He’s just, like, I dunno. He’s annoying, he likes to take charge too much, and he thinks he’s better than everyone. Which he’s not, by the way.” Then you took a deep breath and took your hands, running them through your hair. “And he’s hot,” You muttered. 

You looked up and saw the look of surprise on Dick’s face and you shook your head. “I hate him, though.”

“Well, if you think he’s h-” He paused on the word as if it were gross to think about, “if you think he’s hot, then I don’t really think that means you, ya know, hate him.”

You twisted your lips to the side and said, “But, like, I can find someone attractive and still hate them.”

Dick sighed, “Can you just try and talk it out with him? I came to make sure you weren’t gonna fucking kill him, but it seems like you want to do the opposite.”

“I still wanna fucking kill him,” You said, running your hands through your hair again. 

“Okay, yeah, don’t do that. Just go talk to him.”

“Fine,” You said, standing up from the couch. You waved at Dick as you left the living room, going to find Jason’s room. 

When you got there, you knocked on the door and waited for him to answer. The door opened hesitantly and you were greeted by a half-naked Jason, a towel wrapped around his waist. His chest was shimmering, and his hair was wet, plastered to his forehead. Fuck. 

“We need to talk,” You said simply, trying to keep your eyes off of his chest, which was proving very hard. 

Jason shrugged, “Alright. Come in, I guess.” He still had a look of slight disgust on his face, despite his neutral tone. 

You stepped through the threshold of his room and closed the door behind you. You walked over to his bed, sitting down on the edge of it. “What is it you wanna talk about?” He asked, and he walked over to his closet, looking through it for a shirt. 

You watched intently as the towel dropped from around the waist, him seemingly not caring about the fact that someone else was in his room. “I just wanna say, I guess, I’m sorry for being a jerk these past few weeks. I’ve been overthinking some shit.” 

He stepped into some shorts and you noticed the muscles on his thighs. He abandoned the search for a shirt and crossed over to the bed, looking at you. “That all? You could’ve just sent that in a text or some shit.”

“Also,” You said, eyes traveling over his bare chest, the word lingering on your tongue, “I have something else to tell you.” 

“And that is?”

“I think you’re hot,” You said softly, your eyes traveling up to his, and you smiled a little bit. 

He swallowed, and you noticed a slight pink tint to his cheeks. “You think I’m what?” 

“Hot. Attractive, cute, sexy, whatever. Pick your poison, I guess,” You said, your smile growing wider. 

He laughed shortly, “Is that so?” He grabbed you by the chin and pulled your face up to better meet his eyes. 

“What? Does it weird you out?” You asked, and you took your hand, placing it over his.

“A little bit,” He breathed, “Because yesterday during training you said you wanted me to shut the fuck up and choke on my own dick.”

“Same thing as thinking you’re hot.”

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, and he leaned over you, knee between your thighs and hand steadying himself next to you. 

“Definitely,” You replied.

A smile crossed his lips and then he pressed them into yours, pushing her back onto the bed. A small moan escaped your mouth as he did so, and you felt him smirk against you. 

He took that moan as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth and pressed it into yours. Your tongues danced together, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, wanting to pull him closer into you. 

His crotch pressed into your core and a surprised moan came out of you at the feeling of his erection. You pushed his face off of you and said, “Are we really gonna do this?”

He shrugged, “Why not? I think you’re hot, too.” He said the words with a smirk, running his hand through your hair, twirling it through his fingers. 

“What if someone hears?”

“Then that means I’m doing a good job.”

“Okay, let’s do it, then.”

He licked his lips, “That’s what I like to hear.”

He pressed his cock into your cunt again, rubbing it against you. You brought one of your hands down to your mouth and bit down on it, trying to keep moans from coming out. 

“No, it’s okay,” He said softly, taking your hand away from your mouth. “I want everyone to hear you, to hear how good I’m making you feel.” 

The words alone were enough to make you tremble with pleasure. “Okay.”

He placed a kiss on your jawline and then trailed kisses down your neck and to your shoulder. He bit softly on the flesh, but hard enough to leave a mark, and then trailed his tongue over the mark he had just made. “Jason,” You moaned, and you wrapped your legs around his waist. 

He groaned at his name that you had so sweetly said and growled, “Say my name again.”

You smiled, “Jason,” You said softly, running your hands through his hair. 

“Jason, you’re such a good boy,” You praised, and he groaned, starting to move a hand up your shirt. He moved his hand around the back of you and-surprisingly-unclipped your bra with one hand. 

He sat up and pulled your shirt off of you, then took your bra straps down your arms.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” He grumbled, and he took his hands, cupping your breasts in them. He nuzzled his face between your boobs, breathing in your scent. He took one of your breasts into his mouth and ran his tongue over your nipple. 

You let out a small whine at the feeling, your hands going up to his head, fingers weaving through his hair. 

Biting down on you, he slid one of his hands into your underwear and onto your soft folds. You whimpered at the soft touch and he came up off of your breast to look into your eyes and then said, “You’re really fucking wet, you know that?”

“Shut the fuck up,” You mumbled and he smiled. 

“Fucking make me,” He replied, and he pushed two of his fingers into you, no warning. You moaned sharply, and you pulled at his hair. 

You bit down on your bottom lip as you put one of your hands into his shorts. Your cool hand on his skin made him gasp a little.

You put your hand on his dick, sliding your hand over the tip, coating your palm with his precum. He moaned into your collarbone before biting you, once again hard enough to leave a mark. 

You wrapped your hand around his cock, slowly moving it up and down. The fingers inside of you twitched tentatively, and he bit you again, harder this time. “You got a thing for biting, Jay?” You asked jokingly. 

“I wanna leave my mark on you, let everyone know you’re mine.” And that was the hottest sentence you had ever fucking heard. 

“Am I yours, though?”

“You will be.” 

“Fuck me,” You said softly and he grinned. 

“Gladly.”

He wasted no time at all pulling your underwear and skirt down, and then his own shorts. He discarded them onto the floor and pushed your legs up so he could see your cunt. He positioned his member with your entrance, and a small whine came out of you. You rubbed yourself against his tip and he groaned. 

He slowly started to dip his cock into you and you let out a surprised moan. “Good girl, you’re doing so good for me” He murmured, and he brushed the hair out of your eyes as he continued to push himself in. 

You squirmed at the feeling, moans slipping out of your mouth, abandoning the thought of people hearing you. 

He had all of him inside of you and he sighed a little, placing his hand on your stomach. He leaned down and kissed you again, and doing so ground his dick against your insides, and you whimpered against his lips. He shoved his tongue into your mouth and started to pull out of you before shoving back in.

He repeated the motions, and you moaned his name into his mouth, and he smiled. “Fuck yes,” He groaned, and his hands made their way onto your crotch where he pressed his thumb into your clit. A sob of pleasure almost came out of your mouth when he did that and he moaned as your walls tightened around him.

“Can’t believe I’ve waited so long for this,” He whispered, and he rubbed circles on your clit. It wasn’t your first time, far fucking from it, but you felt tears prick slightly at the corners of your eyes, the feeling of pleasure overwhelming you. 

He continued to pound into you, and you continued to be so vocal about how he was making you feel. And he loved it. He loved your sweet moans, the soft cries of his name, and the way you gripped onto his back as waves of pleasure washed over you. 

As he kept on going, you felt the knot in your stomach that had been forming start to tighten. Jason pressed down on your clit and you said, “I’m gonna- fuck- I’m gonna cum. I want you to cum in me, please.” 

He also now loved you begging him to cum inside of you. “Alright sweetheart, I’ll fill you up,” He said with a smile, and he kissed your cheek before nibbling at your earlobe. 

He groaned a little bit and his thrusts sped up. You moaned, feeling yourself tighten around him as you started to reach your climax. “Jason, please, Jason, fuck!” You cried and he laughed a little. 

You dug your fingers into his back, and you were sure there were going to be scratches heavily imprinted on him come tomorrow morning. “Good girl, good girl,” He purred, and you felt yourself finally start to cum. 

“I’m cumming, I-I’m gonna cum, please,” And please felt like it was the only word you could say at this point. 

“I know, sweetheart, go ahead and cum for me,” He said softly, and his thumb on your clit pressed deeper and you tightened around him again as you came. 

He let out a low groan and you felt his seed leak into you. You sighed contentedly and pulled his face down for a kiss as he pulled out of you.

“We should do that again sometime,” He said after you kissed him. Then, almost as if he couldn’t help himself, he gave you a small kiss on your cheek. 

“We should. ‘M gonna shower, gimme a few minutes,” You said, smiling at him. You got up and winced at the feeling of his cum dripping down your legs, and you waddled slowly to the bathroom in his room. 

You hopped in the shower after the water warmed up and let the water wash everything away. You ran his soap through your hair, and the smell reminded you of him. 

You finished with the shower soon and grabbed an extra towel from his bathroom, wrapping it around yourself. 

He was sitting on his bed, looking at his phone. He had shorts on again, and when he looked up at you his eyes widened. “That’s certainly a sight.”

You smiled, “Like what you see?” 

“Oh, very much,” He replied, setting his phone down. 

You but your bottom lip as you smiled at him. You walked over to him and fell into a sloppy kiss, and his arms wrapped around your waist. “Round two already? You just showered,” He whispered, trailing kisses over your jawline. 

You laughed, “That’s cute. Not today, sweetheart.” You purred and ran a hand through his black hair. 

He looked at you, a yearning look in his eyes and you tugged lightly on his hair in the back, just enough to hurt. 

“Ow!” He said softly before giggling, just a little bit. He placed a kiss on your collarbone. You slid off of him and then onto the bed next to him. 

He seemed mesmerized by you, and you sort of liked it that way. 

“I’m gonna, um, get you a shirt,” He said, and he abruptly stood up and went over to his closet. He rummaged through it for a bit and then tossed you a black shirt. You unfolded it to see a yellow Batman logo on it. 

You laughed and said, “Seriously?” showing it off to him. 

“What? It’ll look good on you,” He said simply, showing you a grin. 

You shrugged and then dropped your towel, noticing him suddenly averting his eyes. You giggled a little bit and then pulled the shirt over your head and then over your torso. It was long enough to cover your crotch and down to just above your mid-thigh area. You bent down and grabbed your underwear that he had thrown to the floor earlier. You slipped them on and grew embarrassed at the slightly damp feeling. God, he was right, you really had been wet earlier. 

“You can look now,” You told him, smiling.

He had slapped his hand over his eyes and he peeked his fingers open, then dropped his hand. “Told you it’d look good. Wanna sleep over?”

“Fine with me. Nothing other than sleeping though, right?” You asked, teasing him with an eyebrow raise. 

“There might be a little more,” He said, and he crossed the room to you, putting his hands on your hips and swaying against you.

“Hmm, maybe. If you can convince me.”

Then you went to his bed and he teased you-just a little bit-before the both of you fell asleep. 

You woke up the next morning, happy to find him asleep by your side. You ran your hand down the side of his face and ghosted your fingers along his jawline. His eyes fluttered open and he gave you a small smile. “Good morning,” He said, and he placed a kiss above your eyebrow, one on your cheek, and then one on your lips.

“Wow, Jason, didn’t know you were such a romantic,” You teased, and you did the same three kisses on him.

He paused and then said, “So, is it safe to say you don’t hate me anymore?”

“I think my feelings were just… a little misdirected.”

“Me too,” He said, and he kissed you for practically the millionth time but it was so welcomed. 

You kissed for a bit longer before you lightly pushed him away and said, “Let’s go get breakfast.”

“Okay,” Jason replied, his tone soft. 

He threw on a shirt and gave you some of his shorts to wear. They were a bit too big for you so you pulled the drawstrings tight around your waist. Yet they still managed to hang low on you. The two of you walked to breakfast and he slung his arm around your shoulder, making you blush a little bit. 

You got to the table where literally everyone was already sitting, and there was a plate set out for the both of you already. The two seats saved were right next to each other, as if everyone knew what had happened last night. Hell, they probably did. For a tower with Wayne-level security, there were awfully thin walls. 

“Guess you two worked your differences out,” Dick said, right as you were taking a bit of cereal and you ended up coughing on it. 

You heard Rachel giggle over her glass of orange juice and you shot her a glare, your cheeks burning. 

Jason chuckled, “Yeah, something like that.” His hand made its way onto your thigh and you resisted the urge to slap it away. 

“Next time just, uh, keep it down,” Dick said, and he gave you a short nod. 

You hung your head a little and then looked at Jason, observing the stupidest grin in the world on his face. “Yes, sir,” He said, and you couldn’t help but snort out a laugh. 

Your relationship with Jason was going to be fucking terrible.

[kiame-sama]

Brood Mother- (Yandere!Gojo x Reader) pt 2

And this, Lovies, is what it is like when I hyperfixate on a topic. Also, suggest names for your curses in the comments if you would like.

Warnings; Yandere, yandere behavior, possessive behavior, manipulative behavior, jealous behavior, kidnapping (you had to be 'secured' by sorcerers so you were technically kidnapped), imprisonment (again, 'secured'/imprisoned same thing to them), female pronouned reader, motherly behavior, Gojo has no sense of personal space,

~~~~~~~~

You slowly awoke in a dimly lit room, the bed beneath you slightly moving as you raised your head. It took a moment for you to realize that you were not in your own bed, not even in your own room at all. The realization shocked you into full consciousness, feeling your heart begin to race as you looked around you wildly.

The bed you were on was in the center of a large cage in the center of a large room. Along the walls of the room there were at least three meters of empty space before the bars of the cage, the cage ceiling was a decent height above you and the ceiling of the room was beyond that. Everywhere along the bars were paper seals like the kind you would see decorating old shrines and knicknacks sold in fares or festivals.

There was a corner of your cage where a toilet stall and shower stall stood side by side, surrounded by wooden walls and accessible through curtains that covered the entrances. A smaller sized kotatsu sat on the other side of the cage, two sitting cushions on either side of it. A chest sat near the stalls and was the last piece of furniture in that room, leaving it feeling rather sparsely decorated.

As you glanced around your enclosure, you heard the sound of a sliding door open to your right followed by footsteps. Two men quietly entered the room, a pale man with white hair and a blindfold, and a tanned man with dark hair and sunglasses. You instinctually pulled the blanket covering you closer as if it would provide you any more protection from the men.

"Good to see you're awake," Greeted the white haired man, "starting to worry you were knocked out a bit too long."

"Where am I..? Who are you? Why am I- why am I in a cage?"

"Well, for starters, I am Gojo Satoru. I am a sorcerer and we noticed you have a unique ability, but we wanted to make sure you were safe to work with first."

"Safe to- what? What does that mean?"

"Do you know what curses are?"

"... Like the kind evil spirits put on people?"

"Yes and no. They are the accumulation of hateful thoughts and feelings left behind. People can have cursed energy as can weaponry, but most do not see curses. You should be able to see them, but someone tried to seal your cursed energy away and in a sense blinded you to curses as a whole."

"... I'm supposed to believe you?"

"It does sound quite far fetched, I'll admit, but I can prove it to you. All that needs to be done is to remove the seal on your cursed energy and you will be able to see them. I didn't want to do it while you were sleeping because you would have had quite the shock when you woke up!"

"Why?"

"Because, you seem to have gathered several 'pet' curses and they don't like leaving your side. Curses do not typically look very natural- the ones around you being slight exceptions- but they are still odd to see all of a sudden."

When he finished talking, the man held up his hand, his index and middle finger extended with the others curled. A sudden clicking sensation in your forehead startled you, your hand flashing up to touch the general location. Nothing felt different to the touch and the click sensation was only temporary, making you wonder just what the sensation was.

As you tried to figure out what happened motion near you drew your attention, a startled gasp filling your lungs at what you saw sitting on the bed with you. Four cat-sized beasts lay around you by your feet on the bed. They almost looked like normal animals before you looked closer at each of them. One was a black haired cat-like creature with a longer than normal muzzle and stockier legs, three black eyes arranged in a triangle formation. The second was a rabbit shaped being with patches of missing fur along the thin body, tail long like that of a dog and teeth far too sharp to be a prey animal. The third was a beast with a hair covered body like that of a primate, but the face of a snake with no eyes, scales covering the head and blending with the fur on the neck. The final one was a winged beast with the general shape of a crocodile, six chicken feet holding the long and fully feathered body up.

Each creature was unique and wholly unnatural in appearance, but you only felt hesitation upon seeing them where you expected fear. The creatures were not hostile towards you and almost seemed to be tame, one yawning cutely at you before cuddling against your leg.

"Those are curses. More specifically, they are your curses. These are the curses we found following you during your day-to-day life. Curses are not typically this docile nor do they look as natural as these do, hence the need to cage all of you."

"What are you going to do to us?"

"See if you will make a good sorcerer or ally to us against curses. Basically we are seeing if you are too dangerous to humans."

"But I would never hurt any-"

"So you say, but we can't take your word for it. I am going to be your teacher and guard. I will try to teach you how to control your cursed energy and see if you are as harmless as you say you are."

It was then the second man spoke up, his deep voice different from that of Gojo and slightly startling to you. You had mostly forgotten the man was even there to begin with.

"I am Principal Yaga. I run a school that trains sorcerers and helps deal with the curse populations around Japan. As Satoru has said, he will be the one you interact with most. Your cursed energy has proved to be infectious to an extent and he will be measuring the effect of your cursed energy. As you currently pose a threat of unknown type, you will be held in this containment cell until it is decided if you are dangerous to other humans or not. You have been provided clothes and they have been stored in the chest inside your cell. Satoru will be bringing you your meals and reporting your behavior back to me."

You couldn't even find your voice before Principal Yaga left without another word, leaving you and Gojo alone in the room together. Gojo approached a door you hadn't noticed earlier and unlocked it without using a key, closing and locking it behind him. He easily strode over to you and you scooted to the edge of your bed, warily watching the strange sorcerer as he sat down next to you.

"So," he started with a grin, leaning in close to you, "what should we start with?"

~~~~~~~~

A month had passed since you woke up in the strange room, having since been given electric tea-lights to brighten up the otherwise dimly lit room. Gojo had been fairly interested in chatting with you or just being around you, and he even got a TV brought in the cell for you. You actually started to look forward to his visits, just fine with talking to him or even letting some movie play on the TV while you two spent time together.

Your pet curses- all of whom you have now named- were very friendly towards Gojo and you appreciated their company as well, despite their strange appearances and vocalizations. Apparently they didn't need to eat and were content to roam the cell you all were confined to. Still, they rushed to greet Gojo every time he entered the cell for any reason.

"I'm back! I brought some souvenirs for us to snack on."

At the sound of Gojo's voice, your curses scrambled to stand, rushing the entrance to the cell to greet your warden with excited screeches and yowls.

"Hello again, Gojo-senpai."

"(Y/n)," he whined with an exaggerated sad expression, "I told you to call me Satoru!"

"Right, sorry, hello again, Satoru. Just find it hard to call my warden by their first name."

"Don't be such a downer about it, those old higher ups are in talk about letting you leave the cage at some point."

"Does that mean days from now or a year from now?"

"Eh, no idea. But it is better than execution!"

"I guess."

Satoru sat down next to you and held out his arms to the clamoring curses that had been jumping at his legs. They were quick to swarm him and he laughed as he let them push him down onto your bed, petting whichever was closest to either hand as they sought his attention. You just chuckled at his antics and watched the pile of creatures smother him with affection that he readily accepted and reciprocated to the creatures.

Unknown to you, Satoru was thrilled your cursed pets accepted him so readily, knowing you had grown fond of them and using that to make you more fond of him. He had been willingly prolonging his contact with you and your cursed energy, doing what he could to make you smile or react positively towards him. The more you smiled and talked with him, the more he began to realize that he didn't want to share you with anyone. Part of him didn't even want you to be released from your cell, happy to have you captive and all to himself. He had warned- threatened- all other sorcerers to keep their distance, Principal Yaga even agreeing to make approaching your room a punishable offence.

No matter if you were released from your cell or not, Satoru would no doubt be by your side regardless as a chaperone of sorts and to keep an eye on you. He constantly had you under his surveillance and he kept note of any food you responded positively towards, always asking you for preferences first. Anything he could do to make you more fond of him- minus leaving the cell- Satoru made sure to do. Your approval mattered an odd amount to him and he found himself letting his own mind stray to more perverse thoughts, imagining what owning you completely would be like.

"Hey, (y/n)."

You were brought out of your vague day dreaming of freedom to see that Satoru was face to face with you, close enough that you could likely feel his lips brush your own if he got any nearer. The proximity startled you slightly despite the fact that this was not the first time he had gotten so close to you. It made you wonder if that blindfold made it so he didn't realize how close he actually was to you. He laughed softly at your surprised gasp, those soft looking lips of his curling into a grin.

"Sorry, sorry. You seemed to be out of it."

"Gojo-"

"Satoru!"

"Satoru... What do your eyes look like?"

"Hm?"

"Well, usually people wear something over their eyes for a reason, like blindness, or a sensitivity to light, or even to cover up scars. I was just wondering what they look like, that's all."

Satoru grinned, head tilting ever so slightly to the left.

"Would you like to see?"

Without waiting for you to respond, he reached up, his hand lightly brushing your cheek as he raised it to his blindfold. He pulled it down around his neck, his hair falling over his eyes without the blindfold holding it up. After a moment he brushed the locks away and slowly opened his eyes.

You couldn't stop your soft gasp of wonder as you stared into the beautiful blue depths. It was as if every possible shade of blue was trapped within his eyes, crystal like and piercing in a way you didn't expect. With his hair down, you almost felt like you were seeing someone completely different from the man you had gotten to know. His face was youthful and lacked any hard lines, your eyes following the natural structure of his features down to his lips which almost seemed plumper than they had even moments ago.

"Wow..." You whispered in reverence, feeling your heart begin to flutter in your chest as you realized how attractive he actually was, "you're beautiful..."

His grin made the smallest of crinkles in the outer corners of his eyes, his smooth complexion making him look almost divine.

"I mean-" you quickly started, realizing what you said, "they are beautiful... Your eyes, I mean. Not to say you aren't good looking, I mean, you're also really handsome- I-"

You fumbled for words, flustered by the beautiful man in front of you and his very close proximity to your face. He raised a hand and cupped your cheek, silencing you immediately as he moved that small distance so you could feel his lips brush against your own. Your breath was hitching and stuttering now, finding yourself trapped within those impossible eyes.

"Beautiful, huh? You really think so?"

"Y-yes..."

"Want a closer look?"

"I-"

"Yes or no~"

Before you could answer, the door handle rattled and you looked away, breaking the intense gaze with Satoru. The man in question wanted to snarl and curse in frustration, but kept himself contained as he pulled his blindfold back up over his eyes. The door opened slowly and a middle-aged man with black hair and glasses cautiously peaked inside.

"G-G-Gojo-sama..."

"What is it, Ichiji?"

"Principal-sama would like to talk to you."

Satoru sighed and stood up, setting your pet curses down on your bed and began walking towards the door of your cell. Part of you felt frustrated that the moment was interrupted, and part of you felt relieved, not certain what your feelings were towards Satoru now. Certainly, he was extremely attractive and not to mention he had actually won you over as a friend before trying anything, even waiting for your permission to close the distance.

The man in question, however, was frustrated beyond all belief that the perfect chance to kiss you had been taken from him. He was beyond frustrated that anyone interrupted, let alone Ichiji for something like a meeting with Principal Yaga when he was almost always late to them. He swore he saw the gears turning in your mind, trying to process his proximity and his attention towards you. It seemed like you were even going to accept the invitation right before the jarring intrusion.

"Ichiji," he started, voice lowered to a murmur as he passed next to the other man, resting a heavy hand on his shoulder in clear warning, "expect a hard forehead flick after this."

"Ye-yes, Gojo-sama..."

[vampelune]

kamukomahina gender/body headcanons

a bit of a ramble about my body, gender, and general appearance headcanons for them bcuz someone sent me a curiouscat prompting this 3k words of hyperfixation nonsense

Komaeda:

- He has a naturally lithe body, with a thin waist, broad shoulders and hips, which give him an hourglass. and a rather andrognyous body, which is "lucky" for him, because I hc him as nonbinary and gender non-conforming

- Gender-wise, as I said, I think he's nonbinary. Usually I do view Nagito as AMAB but I indulge in transmasc Nagito from time to time depending on my preference and how much I wish to uh, well, project, lol. But either way I think he would use he/they pronouns in a western sense. In japanese, however, they don't use third person pronouns that other people refer to them with, and in canon he uses the first person pronoun "boku", which is a "soft" masculine pronoun, in comparison to the "hard" masculine pronoun, “ore” (which Hajime uses btw!) which fits quite nicely, in my opinion! Also, in Japanese, you can be 'fluid' with your first person pronouns depending on the situation, so I think he could use more neutral or feminine pronouns should he desire it, too, to play on his gender non-conformity.

- Komaeda is very secure in his gender, regardless of being AMAB or AFAB. He does not care about stigma, or discrimination, he does not care about being "accepted" by broader society. Broader society is sort of meaningless to him, the average person and their ideas about gender and presentation and effeminity mean NOTHING to him. Whether or not a random person the street genders him correctly or treats him with respect is sort of, pointless? Because to him, most ordinary people are pointless nobodies. Their thoughts do not matter to him. I think he is still prone to insecurity, however, when around his "betters" but I just struggle to think he would degrade himself in regards to gender. to him, it's the least of his problems. what he cares about is hope and talent. He could dress femininely or wear makeup or straight up crossdress and not mind it, really. He thinks people would find a problem with it are the problem, because why does it even matter? It speaks to the way Komaeda is detached from societal norms & "normal" people, he did not grow up in normal circumstances, so he doesn't interact with the world normally by any means. he can mask and act normally to the best of his ability, often unintentionally?, but he simply does not fit into broader society and doesn't seek to.

- Komaeda loses weight really easily, and doesn't gain weight that well. This is mainly due to his many illnesses but also the medications he's been put on. He has a low appetite and burns weight rather easily, even though I headcanon that he eats like garbage (mainly junk food & takeout, since he obviously cannot cook). This makes him overall, health wise, not very healthy, and stick thin because of it. A stiff breeze could knock him over, tbh.

- He has a lot of faded scars, self-inflicted or not.

- Pre-despair (in HPA) he is fairly healthy but still lithe, and progressively his body deteriorates through his 2 years of hopes peak before the Tragedy begins.

- During the Tragedy itself, his body is at it's worst. he is almost nothing but bone at times, barely kept together by a need to live so he can see hope triumph. His weight fluctuates but he's very unhealthy. He's not anorexic or on death's door, but he's not well off, either.

- After being put into the neo world program, right after waking up, he's very, very thin and gaunt. he was in a pod on feeding tubs for an indiscernible but at least probably a month's worth of time? So he's just very weak, like he could collapse if he moves too quickly.

- But a while after waking, he goes into remission, and starts to gain more healthy habits due to being rehabilitated and cared for by Hinata, and gains some weight, finally at a healthy, normal weight. I still think he would struggle with putting on too much weight, but I am slightly fond of the idea that he gets a bit of healthy pudge after a while. To him, it's so foreign being healthy, that he honestly think something's wrong with him at first.

Hinata:

- Hinata has a very... average body, true to form. His hips and waist aren't too pronounced but he has a loosely "hourglass" shape, too, just not as exaggerated as Komaeda's in comparison.

- Gender-wise, I am EXTREMELY fond of transmasc Hinata. While I think I portray AMAB Hinata more than transmasc Hinata (in art and writing), I still firmly prefer transmasc Hinata. The reason I think portray otherwise more is just out of comfortability, but I've been getting better at comfortably portraying FTM Hinata. I have some reasons I prefer it and think you can extrapolate it from canon, but let's get into that

- Hinata, in my eyes, has an arc and story that fits perfectly into him just. Being trans. His desire to be someone else, someone better, someone he can proud of, and the way he overcompensates for himself and has an extreme inferiority complex would easily lend to him having similar feelings about his gender. To me, Hinata is a trans man who overperforms his masculinity out of insecurity and a need to pass. I see him as someone who would strictly use "he/him" in a western sense, which is lended to by his use of the "ore" pronoun in canon, which is almost hypermasculine.

- Even if he were AMAB, I think it still works, I think he's still someone who's insecure and tries to assert himself more strongly and therefore performs masculinity in a way to appear more confident than he is.

(side note: I actually read a bit about queerness in Japan and how it relates to gender performance and the use of pronouns, and read a bit about how queer women in japan tend to use "boku" and "ore" to perform masculinity, which I find neat. “Ore” was also sometimes used exclusively to show anger and dominance, which is why it's categorized as a "rough" pronoun. I think Japanese language, gender, and expression, and how those all relate to one another, are extremely interesting and if you get the time you should read about it lol)

- Body-wise, pre-despair, I think Hinata would. not have top surgery, obviously. I think he has a fairly average but leaning a little on the hefty side chest (pre-op) and binds it, hence the '91 cm' (but also he still has 91 cm post-op because bazongas). I also just think he leans on the "twunk" side of things at this point, not buff but not stick thin or without muscle, just kind of average with average strength and all, though I think Hinata would've tried to do sports and stuff to find his talent so he's in shape :)

- My personal, kind of amusing, but also kind of... thematical? Headcanon, is that during the Kamukura project, he also underwent gender transition. to be honest, while it may not make sense in modern Japan, I think we can suspend our disbelief for fiction, and also make the argument that Hinata's "transition" into Kamukura CAN be read, in some part, as relatable or at least familiar to the trans experience. Iit is not out of the realm of possibility, either, to assume that because many bits of society in Danganronpa are advanced (specifically science, is extremely ahead of our understanding, almost sci-fi like at times) certain attitudes about gender and sexuality can be smoothed over more in a Japanese context.

(side note: I also think that science-wise, we can suspend our disbelief, and assume that top surgery and bottom surgery are much more advanced in this universe, given the almost unbelievable levels of science in Danganronpa, such as memory wipe, mind control, completely realistic virtual simulation, um literally everything about Kamukura which is body modification and brain modification to an extreme, etc. I think it's kind of fitting within these to assume that... Hinata/Kamukura could just, gain a functioning penis, lol)

Kamukura:

- Kamukura would have a. "Perfect" body. it's stated, I'm pretty sure, that they modified not only his brain but his body, because he needs to be able to perform every talent under their belt with ease, and his strength, instincts, technique, are all superhuman. So it's clear to me he'd have a buff body. toned muscles and all. He wouldn't really feel a need to keep it up, though, but I think since they're very... artificial (basically fucking steroids?) they wouldn't fade from a lack of keep-up.

- Kamukura also rarely ever is injured, but when he does, his body heals rather fast and can care for himself adequately, because again, his body is modified to a point of almost inhumanity.

- Gender wise, Kamukura genuinely does not care. however, I am not one to think that Kamukura is "a different person" from Hinata, rather, he is separate from Hinata, but an extension of Hinata as well, proven that he experiences some of his emotions even if subconsciously and without understanding them. he isn't a different personality or person developed in Hinata's body, but a very traumatizing, repressed, and manipulated version of Hinata given a new name, with memories repressed. He's like Theseus's ship in human form---if you get rid of everything that makes someone themselves and replace it, bit by bit, is it the same person? Technically, yes, but... truly? Who knows. 

Because of this, I think Kamukura would have a leaning toward masculine gender performance (in canon, in fact, he uses the soft masculine pronoun "boku" in stead of "ore" like Hinata) BUT I think he is still very nonbinary. In a western sense, i think he would use he/they pronouns, but not really care if someone mistook him for a woman, I suppose.

- His appearance, unironically, is very nonbinary or "he/they" to me because he's wearing a suit, the archetypal form of masculinity, but has extremely long hair, which is considered feminine, and speaks softly (dully). Of course, the bishounen "pretty boy" appearance isn't uncommon or considered less masculine in japan, I think, but there is still a different between soft masculinity and rough masculinity in japan, which lends itself to being interpreted sort of gender non-conforming by western audiences :)

- Kamukura, due to his apathy, struggles with self-maintaining, but as we all probably know i am extremely attached to KamuKoma and thus headcanon that Servant helps him, sort of like a royal servant would royalty in the old days, take care of himself by bathing him, brushing his hair out, grooming him, etc. partially out of duty, partially out of appreciation for Kamukura's body, and partially out of maintaining his sort of "perfect" look since Kamukura, especially post-Junko death, is perceived widely by the public as the new leader of the ultimate despair, even if he is ambivalent to such a title.

Post-DR3 Hinata/Kamukura combined:

As I rambled on about previously, I don't think that Kamukura and Hinata are separate people or personality, I really dislike the interpretation that they are like a "split personality" or operate like DID, because they do not "form" like DID, but also in canon, are not portrayed as separate people.

In post-dr3, Hinata instead says that he is both of them, because he is. Kamukura is Hinata, always was, but had been given a new, false identity, had been stripped of his previous self, his memories, his personality, and crafted into something new. but that did not "split" his brain into two people. It simply repressed who he once was, and made him someone he now was. But when Kamukura regains his memories, his past self, through the means of the new world program by restoring his own memories after SDR2 concludes and he wakes up, as well as doing the same for everyone else, he decides to be "Hajime Hinata" who he always was, but carrying and shouldering the weight of what "Izuru Kamukura" had been, become, and done. Hinata *is* Kamukura, he answers for Kamukura's wrongdoings, his crimes, as something he had done as a different person who's mind operated differently, due to being artificially suppressed, modified, into an apathetic tool for the scientists who made him, and later and aimless, bored individual who simply sought meaning he did not have in the unknown of what despair would be at it's climax. And if hope could overcome it.

As such, I think, when Hinata's self is brought back into the mix, and he now deals with Kamukura's apathy and boredom in part, but much less consuming and much less often, I think hinata is less staunchly "masculine", does not overperform it anymore, and is trying to understand what his past means to him, what his present is, and what his future will be. I think that Hinata would still primarily use he/him (or still use "ore" in Japanese, as it's also a means of his personality, which is a bit rough around the edges and blunt), but be more ambivalent to rigid gender expression, still finding comfort and idealness in masculinity, but not be made dysphoric or feel frightened, uncomfortable, with non-comformity or anything like that. being boyish, masculine, is what he enjoys, but he's comfortable in it now, doesn't need to prove himself or overperform it. He can explore nonconformity without feeling like his gender or masculinity is at threat, even if it's not his preference outright.

Body-wise, I think it's safe to say he retains Kamukura's muscle and all, but Kamukura didn't put much effort into the everyday machinations of being a human being in general, and Hinata is much more fond of food than him now, eats more often, and I enjoy the idea that he gains a little pudge and has a kind of "dad bod" almost, post-DR3? lol.

Both for Hinata and Kamukura I don't see their bodies as “bara” or overly buff, masculine, but a kind of comfortable middle ground between twunk and hunk, lmao. I think they're also averagely hairy, not overly so, very lightly. kind of well groomed, and all. Hinata, pre-despair, put not so much effort into his appearance but still some, especially in trying to pass. (In fact I think his hair cut looks like a home job, all choppy and stuff, which fits him in my opinion, something done by his own hands even if messy and imperfect, he still prefers to be in control of it. also fits the trans headcanon tehe).

Izuru put very little if any effort into himself, only the bare minimum necessary to function, but servant helped him upkeep it to a perfect standard. Hinata, post-dr3 now, finds himself putting you know, an average amount of care into himself and his body, enough to be healthy, but not overly critical and conscious of himself.

Komaeda i have always seen as someone who takes a good deal of care about himself, merely if to alleviate the "disgust" of his appearance and body, by practically preening himself. He is someone who is good at cleaning and seems to appreciate clean and well kept spaces, so I think he would have a similar attitude toward himself. even if he is insecure, and of course, struggles with mental health and may slip at times in his routine in keeping himself well-kept, I think he still maintains an appearance for the most part, at least in his later years (teen to young adult). An argument can be made that he cared less in his adolescence because he had much more apathy about the world, but when he gave himself a purpose with hope and talent, I think he would care for himself a little better, even if his was spiralling mentally.

His hair is always washed, it is just very curly and prone to mess, so it often looks like perpetual bedhead, even when he combs and brushes it. His skin is soft even if a little worn by his tendency for accidents & injury, it's still soft and almost luckily so, and he takes pride in moisturizing and cleaning himself. His skin is a little sickly, still, and I think that despite having blemishes, scars, etc. Komaeda manages to look pretty in a strange way, not conventionally beautiful, but almost ethereal? He's just *pretty*, there's no way to explain it, he is nice to look at even with all his "flaws" and imperfections. Even when he's sickly and bony, even when his cheeks are gaunt or his hands shaky and weak, when his hair is a tangled mess or his clothes are dirty, he's nice to look at in a way that's nonconventional, and it's sort of mesmerizing.

Hinata I think is very average but also in a way that's nice to look at it. He's not ground-breaking hot or conventionally attractive, he has a good body, a nice face, and hair you could play with a little if you wanted. I think what's appealing about him is his normalcy, he's not trying too hard or "gifted" gene wise, but he's just kinda nice to look at, he's enjoyable to be around, an understanding person, or at least tries to be even when he fails, and despite having flaws, insecurities, blunt, he is someone you're drawn to because he's one of those people that's just, easy to talk to? An emotional anchor, almost. The kind of guy everyone kind of knows and has talked to at least once, even if you're not friends with him personally, not because he's cool or popular or anything, but because he's a normal dude who's easy to trust and talk to.

Kamukura, on the other hand, is intimidating, appearance wise and personality wise. he looks, strange, anything but normal, his eyes are red and his hair is this dark cloud that envelops him. His face may still be that plain one Hinata has but faces can be changed by the surrounding attributes as well as expression and such is true for him, with his apathetic and cold expression as well as otherwordly characteristics, he comes off as much more beautiful in a dark way, kind of? In a way that's intimidating or a little daunting, but he's still very beautiful. mesmerizing.

okay, thats my ramble. ty.

[eirikaanemo]

Venti’s a Superhero (GN)

1) You’re in law enforcement

The two of you have a pretty typical hero-officer relationship. He catches the supervillains, you cart them off to prison. It’s not a big deal and you don’t think much of it.

Or, rather, you wouldn’t if your co-workers would just leave things be. However, they keep pushing you to be the one to interact with him. Something about him liking to work with you specifically, which is ridiculous.

Sure he does flirt with you and drops the cheesiest pick up lines ever. And sure, he does smile a lot when you’re around. But it’s not like he’s serious about it, right? He jokes around by flirting with villains after all, so how do you know this isn’t a joke too?

It’s honestly kind of hard on you because you’ve found yourself falling for him. Who wouldn’t, honestly? He’s strong, charming, and just a really nice guy. It has nothing to do with the way he laughs at your stupid jokes or protected you fiercly the couple of times you were specifically targeted in an attack.

But when he shows up in front of the police station with a ukelele and sings you a cheesy love song he apparently wrote himself, you have to face the truth. He does, in fact, actually like you. The flirting was playful, not pretended. The cute superhero guy actually likes you back.

It’s kind of overwhelming honestly. So when he asks you on a date right after you’re kind of speechless. His face falls when you apparently take too long to respond and you have to chase after him as he walks away, dejected, to reassure him that yes, you’d love to go on a date with him.

“Why did you decide to wear your superhero costume on our date again?” You ask him, hyper aware of all the stares that the two of you are getting. The press are at the cafe doors, only kept out by threat of legal action from the owner of the establishment. Thank goodness they’re apparently a big fan of Venti and the work he does. Also, Venti is apparently a regular here. Who knew?

He takes a sip of his dandelion tea and glances out at the press nervously. “Well, I guess I’m just worried about doing an identity reveal for our first date. I was thinking maybe third or something.” You blink and a smile spreads across your face. “Oh? So you want there to be a third date before our first date is even over?” You tease him. His face flushes red. “Yeah,” he admits. “I can’t picture myself with anyone else. I’ve fallen for you and I can’t get up.”

2) You’re a journalist

You have always loved superheroes. They’re just so cool! Someone with a secret identity working a double life to serve and save the people around them? How awesome is that! And so when you move to Mondstadt and found out that they have their very own superhero, Barbatos, you are absolutely thrilled!

And, even better, your boss knows about your love of superheroes and assigns you to be the journalist representing the company on superhero related matters- including Barbatos!

So you take to your new task with gusto! This is exactly why you became a journalist! You will get all the best scoops and make your company proud. And if this involves showing up at all his fights and following him on patrol, well, that’s just doing your job, right?

Meanwhile, Venti, or Barbatos, is starting to be seriously concerned about your mental and physical health. Are you obsessed? Is this hyperfixation unhealthy for you? Are you overworking yourself? What if you get hurt from one of his fights? What is he supposed to do in this situation?

In the end, he decides to take a minute to talk to you about it during his regular patrol. He’s relieved to find out that yes, you are okay, and that you’re really just a super big fan. Eventually talking to you becomes a habit.

As time passes, you start putting less and less private details into your articles and stick to more public knowledge and juicy bits you get from battles and about villains. The stuff he tells you on patrol stays with you as the two of you get to know each other better. Soon you’re good friends, and maybe are edging into more.

It was a night almost like any other, except for how it wasn’t. This time he’d picked you up, bridal style, and flew both of you up onto a rooftop. Now the two of you are taking a well deserved rest stargazing together. “And there’s sagittarius,” you point to a constellation in the sky. You were fascinated with stars a couple years ago and had a wealth of information you could share with him.

“Sagittarius, huh?” He murmured. “Right there?” Now he was pointing at it too.

“Not quite,” you reply. You wrap a hand around the hand he’s pointing with and adjust it’s direction. “Right there.”

When you don’t get a response, you turn and look at him, only to find him as red as the apples he loves so much. It seems to get even worse when he notices you looking and he stutters a bit before he is finally able to spit out what he’s been trying to say for weeks.

“I really, really like you.”

3) You’re a fellow superhero

You are a superhero called Torque who has total control over cars. Your weapon arsenal consists of fifteen different toy cars that you can shrink and grow at will and use to knock villains off their feet. Sure they have more tricks to them, but you can’t give all your secrets away, can you?

Your specialty is evacuation, but you’re also good at keeping supervillains on their toes. Getting run over by cars doesn’t tend to be fun. So you can distract them from the other hero they are fighting. Because of this you make excellent back up and are often on call.

He is better in combat situations because of his aerokinesis. His abilities make him great for emergency response because he can get to the fights quickly and take immediate, safe action. The level of control he has makes him incredibly versatile too.

The two of you end up working together very often. He will show up early with you coming in not too long after. You will take over evacuation and protecting the citizens, allowing him to completely focus on the villain. As soon as you’re done evacuating, you join in the frey.

Your teamwork is legendary among the hero community and you’re a very popular duo in the eyes of the citizens. Famous for prioritizing civilian safety and quick takedowns, you’re effective and efficient. So far as most anyone knows, you’re just good friends, despite 80% of your fanbase shipping you.

In reality though, you’re already married. It’s a secret because you don’t want your identities to be compromised and your different relationship levels in and out of costume add another layer of safety to your disguises. If they knew, though, they would love how domestic the two of you are at home.

You slip into your home through the window. A relieved sigh escapes your lips as you close the window behind you, only for you to nearly shriek as someone suddenly wraps their arms around your waist and blows in your ear. Venti laughs from behind you. “Ehe, you’re always so fun to surprise.”

He smiles into your shoulder and holds you unusually close. The smile seems a little strained. “Today was close, are you okay?” He asks you. Oh. He’s talking about how you almost got hit today. Usually you’re fast enough to avoid hits like that, but you got distracted while evacuating and almost didn’t see it coming. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, so be more careful, okay?”

4) You’re a hostage he saves

The two of you know nothing about each other at the time. You’re a regular citizen of Mondstadt who was going about their business as normal until you got kidnapped.

It all went so fast. One moment you were walking down the street, the next you were being held hostage with a knife to your throat. While you’re terrified, he rescues you as quickly as the villain got you.

There’s just something special about being saved by a superhero. As someone who had been crushing on him for a while even before being rescued, it was all a bit too much for you to comprehend.

He happens to have just the biggest crush on you out of costume, not that he ever planned to tell you. But there was something special about being able to save you, being your hero.

If either of you thought your crush couldn’t get worse, you were dead wrong. The media is all over it, spinning dramatic love stories about how he’d apparently been especially careful with you and you’d given him the look.

You start following news about him more frequently and he keeps a special eye on you the times he happens to spot you on patrol. Daydreams about each other are more common now and your mutual pining reaches new levels.

You hear a sharp rap as something hits your window. It continues for a couple time before you get curious enough to check out what’s going on. Apparently someone’s been throwing rocks at your window. Opening the window, you peer down to see who’s there and nearly get hit in the face. Thankfully, Barbatos catches the rock before it hits you.

“Whoops, sorry,” he apologizes. “I didn’t mean to almost hit you. I was just trying to get your attention.” He pulls a bouquet of flowers from behind his back, cecilias. “I got this for you! Hopefully you like it as much as I like you!” The blush dusting his cheeks has nothing on the warmth that covers your face. Are you sure you are not dreaming?

[lifeofroos]

A/N: Something that has been floating around my head for a while but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Can’t you just see I changed hyperfixations? @godsofhumanity

AO3 - KoFi

What are you here for?

That people knocked on her door  on Asgard was something Frigga could live with. She expected that when she accepted the job. Yet  that people proved to be just as insistent while on Olympus for negotiations was something she didn’t appreciate. 

With a deep sigh, she got out of bed. Her robe always laid by the foot end these days. She slid it around her shoulders before calling out: ‘Who is there?’

‘Frigga? Eh… it’s me.’

‘Zeus?’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Why are you calling so late?’

‘It’s... I need to know something about Hera.’

‘Isn’t it better to talk to Hera, then?’

Zeus shook his head. ‘No. It’s just… sometimes I feel like you know her better than I do. There are things I could only ask you. Please.’ 

Frigga opened her door on a creak. Zeus looked desperate, tired, almost pitiful. She didn’t think he’d try anything. Actually, she was almost ashamed that the thought went through her head. 

‘You can come in. Sit by the hearth.’ She took a step back, so that Zeus could enter. 

‘Thank you…’

‘Don’t mention it.’ 

Zeus stumbled onto a low couch by the hearth. Frigga snapped her fingers and a fire flared up. 

She sat down on a chair facing the sofa. ‘What is it you wanted to talk about?’

‘Hera…’ Zeus sighed. ‘She’s not happy.’

‘I am well aware.’

Those words alone made Zeus wince. ‘She… she talks to you a lot, doesn’t she?’

‘Isn’t that why you came here?’

‘Hm.’ He tugged on the fabric of his toga. ‘Do you… what is it that makes her so upset, Frigga?’

The goddess squared her shoulders. ‘Excuse me for thinking you knew, Zeus.’

‘I… I mean…’ His cheeks turned red. It made him look vulnerable, which in turn made Frigga soften. She let go of the tension in her shoulders. ‘I… I know it, yes. Yet…’ he shrugged. ‘I don’t know… I mean…’

‘Take a moment. Breathe.’ 

Zeus nodded a couple of times, looking way lost in thought. Now that she thought about it, he probably had been way lost throughout the whole conversation. Perhaps it shouldn’t have surprised her. Putting away his pride to come to her door wasn’t nothing. 

Hera once told Frigga she liked talking to her because she was calm. Frigga suspected her ability to see the future had something to do with it. She never told people, but even she knew her words were bent around what she saw. She wouldn’t give someone bad advice, and what was bad or good changed on how the future went.

‘...I love her,’ Zeus said, awakening the queen from her thoughts. ‘I really, really love Hera. She’s my queen.’ He breathed in- and out again. ‘That doesn’t change because I sometimes love someone else, too.’ 

‘She doesn’t see it that way.’

‘... no, she doesn’t see it that way. To Hera, love means only two people, right?’

Frigga shrugged. ‘That’s one way to put it.’

‘Monogamy?’

Frigga smoothed out her nightdress as an excuse to think for a couple more seconds. She knew things about Hera she was certain Zeus didn’t know. She had to be careful with her words. ‘Hera is a queen, Zeus.’

‘Of course!’

‘She wants to feel like it.’

‘She has everything she could ever want…’

‘Except for you and your understanding.’ 

The kings’ mouth fell open a little. ‘My… understanding.’

‘Why things are important to her. Why she wants to be your only queen. Why she does what she does.’

‘Did she tell you that?’ Zeus looked away. 

‘Not in those words...’

‘Then how are you so sure?’ 

The goddess straightend her back again. ‘Why are you getting so angry now?’

‘You are just… it’s just... nonsense!’

‘Nonsense, Zeus?’

‘Yes, nonsense!  And I… I came here for something else than nonsense.’ Zeus’ sight grew blurry, and his head felt so heavy, all of a sudden. ‘I mean, I talk to Odin too, you know that of course. Yet he actually gives advice. Not just…’

‘Zeus.’ She stood up, her skirt swaying around her legs. Zeus shut up right away. Frigga wasn’t particularly tall, but something in her gaze made Zeus feel like he was shrinking. ‘If I may inquire…’

Zeus skipped a breath. ‘Maybe I should go…’

‘If I may inquire,’ she continued, sharper this time, ‘Did you come here to talk to me as Hera’s friend, as Frigga, delegate of Asgard, or as Odin’s wife? Because I feel like those might not be the same to you and that you are expecting different things from them.’

‘I… well…’ he snapped his fingers. ‘As… In the first place…’

‘You married a queen, didn’t you, Zeus? Hera is not just a queen by name. She’s a born queen.’

‘She’s different from you…’

‘Of course. Still, you knew you were marrying a queen, someone who demands respect. Then you do you treat her like a run-of-the-mill housewife?’

Zeus felt his cheeks grow red. ‘I mean-’

‘She’s not something to take for granted. Don’t make her feel uncertain of her standing.’ She took a deep breath, allowing herself to cool down. ‘Perhaps it’s better if you leave now. You need to be well-rested for the negotiations tomorrow.’

Zeus nodded, feeling dumbfounded. When he stood up, Frigga followed him to the door. 

‘It’s the best answer I can give you, Zeus.’ Her voice had something soothing, now. 

‘I know.’ He nodded while he said it. 

‘Have a good nights’ rest,’ she mumbeld, before shutting the door. 

The future promised no more late-night visits today. A good thing, at least. People knocking on her door on Asgard was one thing. When she was anywhere else, she’d rather they’d stay away. Good things rarely came of it.

A/N: It seems to me that while my interpretation of Frigga lines up with that of many others, I make her more important in my snippets then the myths or other mytho-followers seem to do.  I once read something about so called womens’ myths. Basically, myths that got hardly written down, yet they were told from mother to daughter. Men sometimes didn’t hear them. I have no groundwork for it whatsoever, yet I feel like Frigga could have gotten that treatment. She is THE queen of Asgard, so one of the most prominent goddesses. I feel like she’d have been popular among women. If anyone knows more of this, hit me up