#but im sure you can find those too if you dig enough

[killjpeg-reblogs]

yall should play smile for me or mad rat dead or everhood or something. like there are so many cool indie games made by queer creators and creators of color but you choose to support people who are openly racist or bigoted. idk man

#txt #underhero is such underrated gem that never took off and it upsets me to this day #i can empathize with desire to play a specific genre of a video game #but im sure you can find those too if you dig enough #sorry im pissed that shit like fnf is still living #pizza towers art style made me vary but i guess seeing people i trust with better judgement made me give it th benefit of the doubt #welp #actually nvm i remembered something in underhero that makes me raise questions now #but idk if devs were deliberate with that #so put that in maybe

[the-californicationist]

Hey🐻❤ Can i say something ? Yeah ? Sooo

Price and Reader have sex in an abandoned parking lot after going to a bar🍻

That's all I had to say 🙇‍♀️❤

omg hot!!! hope this is kinda what you were looking for. im so sorry for the wait. thank you for being patient with me!

The After Party

The MacTavish wedding was the party of the century, and you were feeling the effects of their pricey Brut champagne. Your husband, John, had stolen a bottle for you, and you were nearly half-done with it, carefully pulling it up to your lips and letting the tiny bubbles pop on your tongue. 

Even though it was almost dawn, the party was still raging inside the bar Johnny had rented out. John had taken you aside and whispered into your ear,

“C’mon. Have a smoke with me, missus.”

While the newlyweds were distracted by their guests, so you and the captain had made a break for it, sneaking out of the reception undetected. You smiled, following him out back into the parking lot, admiring his ass in those silky black slacks. He always looked so fit when he got dressed up, even if he hated every minute of it.

John headed to his truck, popping open the door and digging around for another cigar. You leaned against the tailgate, trying to find some relief for your aching feet. John noticed your discomfort,

“Those heels botherin’ you, love?”

“Yeah,” you sighed.

“Here,” he helped you up onto his tailgate, sitting you on the cold metal, “Let’s sit for a while. Give me a chance to enjoy this.” He wiggled the fat cigar in his hands, smiling at you. 

“Aren’t they gonna miss us?” You nodded to the bar, listening to the sound of muffled dance music coming from its bright, glowing windows. 

“Ah, I’m sure the happy couple is plenty distracted.”

John hopped up on the tailgate with you, puffing on his cigar, making sure the tip was evenly lit. When he was happy with it, he offered it to you. You took it, sucking the smoke into your mouth and tasting its sweet tobacco and vanilla notes. It was a huge cigar, so too much of it and you’d really be wasted. The champagne was already enough to make your cheeks hot. 

You closed your eyes, trying to sober up a bit. John’s hand rubbed your bare back, fiddling with the straps of your low-cut dress as he fussed over you. 

“Is my girl a little bevied up tonight? Maybe I should take that bottle back,” he laughed at you, teasing you good-naturedly. 

“No,” you clutched the bottle like a prize, playing with him, “Pry it out of my cold, dead hands, mister.”

He held his hands up in mock-surrender, 

“Alright, alright. Just don’t blame me when you get into trouble.”

“What trouble?” You took his cigar from him again and purposefully took a long drag, challenging him, trying to goad him into flirting with you. 

He fell into your trap, chuckling as he took one of his fingers and traced his way from your sparkling gold necklace all the way down into the cleavage of your dress, making you gasp, 

“You know what trouble,” he leaned in for a smoky kiss, stealing his stick back, “My woman, dressed like that, gettin’ sloshed on champagne… I know where this path leads.”

“Oh?” You giggled, running your palm across his heavy thigh, feeling his muscles through the expensive cloth, “Where’s that?”

“I’ll show you.” He raised his eyebrows, getting a little smart with you, and hopped off of the tailgate. He stood in front of you, cigar bitten in his mouth, and used both of his hands to pull you closer to him, forcing your legs apart to accommodate his wide body. 

You giggled, letting yourself be man-handled, enjoying every moment of it. 

Then, he reached both of his warm hands up under the glittering hem of your dress, tracing up your legs, feeling their shaved smoothness, until he found your hips. John smiled, balancing the cigar expertly on his lips, enjoying the surprised look on your face. His fingers twirled around the straps of your thong, and he pulled it off of you, guiding it over your knees and past your strappy heels, admiring the gold lace that filled his palm. 

He brought the panties to his nose and dodged your half-hearted kick as you admonished him, 

“John!” 

“What?” He was incredulous, “I know this smell.”

He had the audacity to sniff them again, and you smacked him on his chest, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make him react. John smiled, recoiling, teasing you, 

“Smells like sloshed, horny wife, so it does. Mmm.”

“Oh, my God! What if someone saw you?” You hissed, laughing in pure shock at your husband’s actions. 

“And?” He put on a serious face for you then, pocketing your panties, spreading your legs, and tucking his body between them again, getting right up in your face and taking a long pull from his cigar, letting the smoke linger between you, cascading down his full lip. He snarled, “Who’s gonna stop me? Did you see any bloke in there bigger than me? Stronger, hm?”

You shook your head, feeling your heart race with excitement at his sudden dominance. Even if you knew he was just trying to get you riled up, it was working. 

“Did you see anyone who would have the bollocks to stop me from touching my woman…” His hands were wandering, rubbing your smooth thigh up and down, pulling on the tight muscle of your calf, “Whenever, or wherever I want?”

You shook your head again, biting your lip, leaning back into the bed of the truck, letting your breasts lift towards his face, taunting him with your skin. 

He took one of your shoulder straps and pulled it down, letting it dangle across your arm. As it did, the top of its delicate fabric triangle folded, lower and lower, until the top of your breast was exposed, falling almost as low as your nipple. 

His eyes narrowed, giving you a hard stare,

“Give me your hand, missus.”

You held out your hand, palm up, submitting to his whim. 

He took it in his and pulled you forward, lowering your arm until your fingers felt the rigid marble cock he was concealing behind his zipper. John pressed your palm on him, flexing his muscle for you, letting you feel his desire.

You were leaning so far over that his face was right by your ear, and he whispered to you, menacingly, 

“If I wanted to, I’d have taken you in that bar, and there’s not a fuckin’ man alive who could stop me.”

“So,” you said, staring him down, showing him your fearless hunger, “Take me, then.”

It was his turn to wear a mask of surprise on his face, but it quickly turned to joy. He hopped up into the truck bed with you and pulled you inside, lifting the tailgate closed with a loud slam. 

John kept a thick blanket in the truck bed for emergencies, and he folded it up, laying you down on it, making sure you were comfortable. He kissed your neck, but he wasted no time in peeling down the top of your dress, exposing your nipples to the night air. You took the cigar from him so he could suckle on your flesh, leaving little hickies where he wanted to, something for you to admire later. 

You smoked his cigar, letting it get you high as your husband fondled you. His mouth was hot and greedy, and you realized John was a little more worked up than you had previously assumed. You could feel him thrusting against you absentmindedly, not realizing he was doing it, rubbing himself against your beaded gown.

You caught his furry jaw in your hands, pulling him away from his delicious work, dragging him up to kiss your mouth. You shared his smoke between you, letting it fill your senses. You’d take a drag in, share it with him, letting it fall into his lips, and then kiss him through it, tasting each other among the warm notes. 

“John,” you whispered between his wet kisses, “I need you.”

“Need to work up to it, love. Don’t wanna hurt you,” he whispered, rucking up your dress. 

You smiled, knowing he would realize the truth in just a moment. Indeed, as soon as you felt his fingertips dip into your pussy, his eyes shot up in shock and wonder. He breathed in a gasp, dipping his finger into you again, not believing what he was feeling, 

“You are so wet for me. Naughty girl. So ready for your man’s cock, hm?”

“I told you,” you kissed him, feeling his finger sink deeper inside of you, drowning in you, “I’m ready for you, John. Don’t make me wait.”

He brought his hand to his mouth and sucked you off of his skin. Then, he went back for seconds, dipping his forefinger into you like you were the batter of a cake, sugary sweet and forbidden. 

Then, once he had his fill of your taste, he fumbled with his slacks, raking his black leather belt off in one long pull, letting it clatter somewhere in the metal bed of the truck. His fingers pried open his button and yanked down his zipper, freeing his fat rod and jerking it with his hand. 

Unceremoniously, and in a bit of a rush, he mounted you, rucking up your dress even further. You spread yourself for him, wrapping your legs around his strong glutes, feeling them squeeze together to help him thrust into your hungry core. 

It was a tight fit, as usual. John was always so heavy and thick; you had a hard time working up to his size. But, you took a deep breath and let your wetness glide him in. His ragged sigh of relief was intoxicating. 

“Oh, bloody hell, missus.” He furrowed his brow as if in pain.

“You alright, John?” You tried to relax, but you could feel your body responding without you, pulsing around him with a warm, eagerness. 

“You’re warm, baby. Just what I needed. So fuckin’ good to me.”

He ducked his head into the crook of your neck and began to thrust into you, deeper and deeper until he found his end. In the back of your mind, as you gazed up at the sparkling stars, you hoped no one could hear you, but your husband’s earlier dominance made you care a little less. And as he built you up to a frothing orgasm, you found yourself caring not at all. 

Suddenly, the music from the bar got louder, and you heard the door slam closed to the bar. John stilled above you, covering you with his body, watching over his shoulder for someone to come by. Your heart was beating hard in your chest, and you gave his cock a squeeze from inside of you, pulling at his shaft with your muscle. He looked down at you, smiling, and gave you a quick pulse in return, teasing you. Both of you were clearly excited about the prospect of being caught. 

Footsteps made their way through the gravel lot, the loud jingle of keys, a door opening and slamming shut. Then, their engine revved and they pulled away, leaving you alone again. 

“Filthy little thing,” John whispered, picking up his pace again, “Squeezin’ me like that. You tryin’ to get caught, missus?”

“Just wanna make you feel good, John. Want to feel you come in me.”

“Christ,” he lamented, clenching his teeth and fucking you faster, obviously heated by your words and your wet, sticky desire, “Squeeze me again, then. Yeah… ungh… just like that. Keep doin’ that, pretty girl. You’ll get your wish.”

When he thrust into you, you tried to relax, letting his cock slip inside. Then, when he tried to leave, you twisted your muscles against him, pulling him in, trying to milk his come from his swollen head. It was driving him wild. His eyes fluttered, rolling back into his head as he thrust into you, harder and harder, chasing down your orgasm with a vengeance. 

He put his fingers in your mouth, making you taste yourself, growling at you through clenched teeth, 

“Suck.”

You grabbed his hand with both of yours, feeling your tits bouncing as he fucked you, holding his fingers in your mouth, and you began to suckle on them dutifully. You could smell and taste your scent, and it was making you feral. You let your tongue loll between his fingers, sucking hard on his sensitive tips, watching his face as his jaw fell slack. 

Then, he pulled them away from you and used them to rub against your clit, one finger on either side, making tight circles and teasing you until your legs began to shake. 

“Holy fuck,” he said, watching you fall apart, “Such a good girl for me, aren’t ya? Gonna come on me, baby?”

You nodded, plucking at your nipples, squeezing your breasts as they shook from his thrusting. 

“Good girl. Come on me. Let me feel it.”

You felt your body go rigid as the bright, flashing pleasure coiled its way into your belly, and you couldn’t help but let out a deep moan. Quick as a flash, John kissed you, letting you moan into his mouth instead of into the night air, quieting you as you exploded underneath him, shamelessly bucking against his hard length as you rode out your pleasure. 

He kept kissing you, sucking at your tongue and bottom lip, talking to you through your bliss, 

“That’s it. Just what I needed, pretty girl. Love this fuckin’ pussy.”

“I love you, John,” you said, suddenly overwhelmed with your emotions and the deep sensations he was giving you. 

It caught him off-guard, and he smiled from it, 

“I love you too, baby. You ready for me, hm?”

You nodded, whispering a yes into his neck. He looked at you with a pleading expression, 

“Tell me.”

“I need your come, John. Come in me. Fill me up, please. I want you to come in my pussy.  I want it running down my legs.”

“Oh, fuck!” He raised his voice just for a moment, but you didn’t care.

As you watched him tumble into his orgasm, shuddering between your legs, nothing would distract you from that gorgeous scene. His face twisted and then relaxed, exhausted from his efforts, a half-smile painted on his lips.

He looked down at you in surprise, breathing heavy and recovering. He slid himself out of you, leaving you with a terrible emptiness. You felt his cream drip from your body, and he wiped his cock on your thigh before he tucked himself back into his dress pants. 

John collapsed next to you in the truck bed, staring up at the stars for the first time, resting his head on your breast. 

You were wrecked, and you pet his hair, softly soothing yourself with him. 

He looked up at you, that playfulness returning to his eyes, 

“Runnin’ down your legs, hm?”

You laughed, rolling your eyes, 

“Yeah, so? You seemed to like the idea, mister.”

“I do,” he kissed your breast and took your nipple into his mouth, watching you squirm from being overstimulated, “In fact, I think it’s a good idea.”

“You’re not serious,” you gasped. 

“C’mon. No one’ll notice.”

He sat up, checked the surroundings to make sure the coast was clear and then helped you up. He lowered the tailgate and helped you stand. Your feet still ached in your shoes, and you had to catch yourself on his strong arm. He steadied you, making sure you were alright before he grabbed your hand and led you back inside. 

“I can’t believe we’re doing this, John,” you felt your cheeks blush bright red. 

“Be brave, missus. I’ll make it worth your while later.”

His face suggested more of his dirty fun, and you nodded, crossing your fingers no one looked at you too closely. 

Luckily, no one had noticed your absence. John helped you into a booth and ordered two more glasses of champagne, sliding into the seat beside you. All night, through the slit of your gown, he rubbed your leg, getting little drops of his come and playing with it on your skin, working you up and teasing you in front of all of your friends, secretly smearing his gift into your thigh. 

All night, and during the drive home, you couldn’t keep his hands off of your legs. He kept playing with you, getting bolder and bolder by the minute. When you got into the house, he stripped you, leaving your gown abandoned on the kitchen floor, carrying you straight into the den and laying you on the couch, not even bothering to make it to the bedroom.

He had a burning look in his eye as he commanded you, taking off his clothes as he barked his orders, 

“Spread your legs, missus. Let me see you. Wider.”

You did as you were told, your mind reeling from his threatening tone, eager to submit to him again. 

“Mm. You are fuckin’ gorgeous covered in my come. It’s everywhere,” he stared at your pussy and your inner thighs with wonder, using his hands to feel the shining fluids coating your skin. 

Then, to your shock, he bent to lick you clean, sucking on your folds and lapping at your wet hole, wriggling his tongue deeper and deeper, trying to eat himself out of you. 

“John!” You gasped, “What are you — ungh, fuck!”

His fingers fucked you as he ate from you, swallowing what your body gave him, licking up his mess from your legs and lips like a hungry dog, ignoring your cries of protest. 

“You want me to stop, missus?”

You shook your head, petting his scalp and scratching your fingers through it.

“Aye,” he grinned, “Didn’t think so. Hope you’re ready for round two.”

If you enjoyed this story, please consider a reblog! Thank you!!

AO3 Link

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #captain price #captain price x you #call of duty #john price x female reader #captain john price x female reader #oh captain my captain #ohcaptainchallenge #it's captain season

[thelukesalvez]

Luke Alvez x Reader: Five Feet Apart

Request: “hey! I love your blog and your writing so much, so thanks for that! im not sure if you’ve seen season 15 yet, but could you do a fic based off from the episode where Luke and Matt are kidnapped by the unsub, except maybe it’s Luke and the reader that are kidnapped?”

Word count: 4.2 k

Warnings: kidnapping, suicide tw, blood mention

The first thing you notice when you start to wake up is that there’s something dripping onto your leg, it’s warm and slides towards the inner portion of your thigh.  The thought is replaced by the searing pain in your forehead. You groan, quickly realizing the warm liquid dripping into your lap is your own blood. 

The sound of your name is what forces you to finally peel your eyes open. You brace yourself for the brightness of the sun or fluorescent lights, but instead, you find yourself planted in a damp, dimly lit room.  

You hear your name being called again, and you slowly turn your head in the direction of the sound, wincing when a sharp pain radiates through your head.  

“Luke?” you gasp. He’s about five feet away from you, sitting on the floor against a beam with his hands tied behind his back. You’re able to get a better look at your surroundings, as you fight to get your bearings in what looks like an old warehouse. 

He lets out a shaky breath. “Thank God,” he mutters, dropping his head slightly in relief.   

You catch a glimpse of the bruise that’s taking up a large portion of his face and you shutter. “What happened?” you whisper. You feel your chest start to inflate with panic. “Luke- Where are we?”

“I don’t know,” he admits slowly.

He looks around the empty room for anything noteworthy.

“Luke–” you call out his name weakly, knowing that there was nothing he could do, but all the while desperately hoping that you were wrong. The more alert you become, the more panicked you become. Without even thinking you start harshly jerking against the ties around your own wrists, desperately trying to free yourself from their constraints. You can feel the rope digging into your flesh as you tug harder, but you don’t stop. The fear and frustration inside of you escapes your body through thick sobs. They echo through the room. 

Luke’s trying to inch his way closer to you, he’s already figured out that his restraints are too tight to maneuver out of, but his body naturally gravitates towards you and your obvious discomfort.  

“Hey, hey, hey–” he tries to soothe. Luke’s stomach drops, as he watches you panic from only five feet away. Luke wishes he could cross the room in a heartbeat and wrap his arms around you securely. He wishes he could scoop you up, cradle you to his chest, and just hold you until you could breathe again. “It’s okay. Baby, look at me– look at me.”

You steady yourself long enough to lift your head and move your gaze towards Luke. You try to ignore the cut above his brow, split skin that’s oozing blood, and instead focus on his eyes, which are wide and wild, but still soft. They’re a deep, brown– the color of the earth after a heavy rain. You’d looked into those eyes so many times before, but you’re still always amazed at how much strength they hold. Despite all he’d weathered and all he’d seen, they hold so much life.  

Slowly, Luke starts to take deep breaths. He’s exaggerating the movement, like he wants you to follow suit. You match your choppy inhales to his smooth, methodical ones, and gradually, you feel yourself start to calm.  

“Listen to me,” Luke whispers. You continue to breathe. “We’re going to be okay.”

…

“Wait a minute.” Spencer is standing in the parking garage stationed outside of the BAU and shakes his head, his arms crossed tightly.  

He’s walking into the building with JJ and Garcia when he notices Luke’s truck parked in exactly the same position as Spencer had seen it the previous night.  

“What’s up?” JJ asks, looking up from her phone and stopping to wait. Her and Penelope exchange questioning looks. 

“Luke’s truck…” Spencer trails off as he approaches the vehicle. Nothing looks out of place. All the windows are intact– no belongings are scattered on the ground as if there’d been a struggle. But he can’t shake the feeling in his gut– the one telling him that something is wrong. 

Spencer cups his hand around his eyes and peers through the glass of Luke’s truck. There is a steel coffee cup sitting in the cup holder, a cell phone charger dangling from the power outlet, and some gum wrappers scrunched up and discarded in the center console. But Spencer’s stomach sinks even further when he looks onto the driver’s side floor and sees the wallet and phone discarded hastily.  

“Guys–” Spencer says suddenly. When he takes a step back he notices some dark, crimson stains on the cement ground. He squats down quickly, inspecting the trail of dots. “I think this is blood.”

Garcia gasps.  

“Call Emily and Dave…”  Spencer gazes underneath the truck, inspecting the area. His eyes widen when he sees a much larger pool of blood on the ground outside the passengers side. His voice lowers and he sounds out of breath when he speaks. “Call everyone.”

…

The surprised smile that erupted on Luke’s face when he saw you across the parking lot made getting up at three thirty to catch an earlier flight worth it. You were jetlagged and hungry and carrying bags under your eyes that were heavier than your luggage, but you forgot about all of that the moment that your eyes landed on him. He crossed the gap between you two in a hurry, shedding the bag he had strapped across his chest and discarding it carelessly. In just two, long strides, he was embracing you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and lifting you up excitedly. 

You squealed when your feet left the ground, causing you to tighten the grip you had around his neck.  

“What are you doing here? You weren’t supposed to be home until tomorrow,” he asked breathlessly when he finally set you back down. He kept his hands placed securely on your lower back. 

You drummed your fingers across his chest and smiled. “I wanted to surprise you, I switched my flight, because I missed you.”

“They just let you exchange flights?” he inquired. 

You bit your lip. “There were a couple of fees,” you downplayed the extra hundreds dollars you had to spend for the ticket.  

Luke smirked, sensing your secret. 

“It was worth it though,” you paused, poking his chest. “You were worth it.”

Luke’s face broke out into another enormous grin, right before he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours.

…

Emily runs. The way you run when you were late for a flight, and the speakers were announcing that the gates were closing. Or the way you ran to flag down a taxi about to drive off. Or how a mother would run if she heard her child crying in another room. She runs the way you’d run if your family was in trouble. Because hers is. 

The blood rushing through her veins pulsates loudly in her ears, like a loud drumbeat narrating her every step. That’s all she hears as she races to the parking garage.  

When she arrives, the rest of the team is already there, wide-eyed, and waiting for her leadership. She is surprised to realize that she isn’t even out of breath as she spoke.

“This is personal, the Bureau is not going to want us working this case.”

Before the rest of the team can protest, she lowers her voice and continues, “So we’ll do this quietly, and we’ll do this discreetly.”

… 

“So tell me all about your trip. Did you bring enough scarves?”

You playfully hit Luke on the arm, punishing him for teasing you. “Yes, as a matter of fact I did,” you said cordially. 

He smirked. “I told you three would be an adequate amount of scarves.”

You laughed, before leaning back against the flatbed of his truck. “It was good, the weather was nice. My brother and I only fought the entire time.”

Luke sighed, wrapping his arm around you. “I know it’s tough going home, but I know your mom appreciates it when you visit.” He pulled you closer to him and pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “I promise next time I’ll go with you, to gang up on your brother with you.”

You sighed and leaned closer into Luke’s touch, closing your eyes. You never realized how much you were going to miss him until you were away from him.  

After a few moments, you reluctantly pulled away. “As much as I love our parking garage reunion, could we go home now? I’m starving.”

Luke smiled and nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I need to get away from work for a while.”

As you made your way to the passenger side, Luke skipped around his truck to retrieve his bag, which was still on the ground. You waited by the door for him to unlock it, your hand already positioned around the handle.  

You stared at your own, tired reflection in the window, marveling at the fact that Luke found you desirable in such a frazzled state. You were so fixated on your own disheveled appearance that you didn’t even notice the man approaching you, until his reflection was right behind yours.  

Before you could jump, before you could turn around or scream, before you could hear Luke yelling for you to “watch out”, your head was struck and everything went dark. 

…

Spencer is in the process of drawing lines on a map when Matt and Tara walk into the conference room.  

“So it turns out Y/N booked a six o’clock flight into D.C. Her cell phone records show she was in Quantico before the signal was lost.”

Reid narrowed his eyes. “So she wasn’t supposed to be there,” he thinks out loud. “Whoever took Luke took her too, but she wasn’t the target. He was.”

“Who would have it out for Alvez?” Tara wonders.  She crosses her arms and shakes her head. 

Right on cue, JJ walks into the conference room. She slams the stack of files she’s been holding on the table in front of them. “Take your pick,” she answers Tara’s question. “Looks like Luke made a lot of enemies during his fugitive task force days.”

The rest of the team hesitates as they gaze at the daunting pile of files in front of them. But Reid wastes no time before surging forward and ripping open the first one he can get his hands on. 

Spencer is going to find Luke. 

…

Luke is the strong one. He holds you during scary movies and can pick you up with such ease (despite your protests). He always sleeps on the side of the bed closest to the door, and instinctively wraps his arm around you protectively anytime he senses danger.  Hell, he literally fights bad guys for a living. He is a real life superhero.  

This situation, as it turned out, is no different. While you sit, cold and shivering on the ground, crying silently, Luke comforts you, all while continuously searching for a way out of this mess.   

He’s interrupted when heavy footsteps approach. Your eyes instinctively shoot towards the noise. A man emerges from behind some barrels stacked in the corner.  You can tell that he’s tall and muscular, wearing combat boots that are tucked into his utility pants. He looks military.  

“Alvez.” The word slips off his tongue slowly, like he’s savoring it. “Remember me?”

Something in Luke’s demeanor shifts when he catches a glimpse of the man before him.  His eyes sink, the rest of his face quickly following suit. 

“Ray–” Luke says the man's name like he still can’t believe it. But before he can finish his sentence, the man, named Ray, winds back and thrusts his foot into Luke’s stomach.  

Luke lets out an unnatural grunting sound as he doubles over. Without missing a beat, the man kicks him again, and again. He kicks him until Luke is writhing in pain on the floor, hands still tied behind his back, defenseless.  

You don’t even realize you’re screaming at this man to stop until Ray turns to look at you. Your gaze doesn’t leave Luke until the man approaches you quietly. You don’t care that you’ve basically made yourself a target at this point. You would’ve done anything to get him to stop hurting Luke. 

“You–” the man says. He has a hint of humor in his voice. “We didn’t plan for you to be at the garage.What a pleasant surprise.”

Amidst his writhing in pain, Luke snarls from the floor. “Leave her alone!” His voice sounds gurgled, and you realize he’s probably talking through the blood in his mouth. 

His lips tug into a smile once he realizes how protective Luke is over you. You can see on his face that he’s going to play off of that. He inches closer.  

There’s nowhere for you to go, so you press yourself so far into the beam you’re tied to that it starts to leave an imprint in your back. For a moment, you think he’s going to start kicking you as hard as he’d kicked Luke, but instead he bends down in front of you and clicks his tongue. 

You get a good look at Ray’s face, it’s covered in creases and craters. He stares at you without blinking. When he lifts his hand slowly, you can’t help but flinch. But gently, he pushes the strand of hair out of your eyes. Your breathing has become choppy and labored.  

“Don’t touch her!” Luke spits out. Ray’s hand freezes on your cheek and he smiles again. This time, he’s staring directly at you.  

Then he stands up, and quietly wanders behind you. You lock eyes with Luke, hoping to find some form of comfort. Instead, you just see anger and fear. 

You sense Ray behind you. His footsteps click on the cement floor, when they stop, you assume he’s hovering. You expect to be hit again, or shot or kicked– but what you don’t expect is the pressure of your hand restraints to be loosened and then released all together. Before you can rub the skin that’d been rope burned, your arm is being grabbed and you’re roughly being hoisted up on your feet. 

You stumble, Ray’s tight grip the only thing keeping you from falling. His arm bars across your chest and pulls tightly across your neck. He pulls something black out from his side and clicks the end of it. The cold barrel presses hard against your temple.

“Do you know what happened to me after I got arrested, after you got me arrested?” He spits at Luke.  

Luke watches the scene folding out in front of him wearily. He has to choose his words carefully, or he could lose you. 

“It was my job to put you away,” Luke says steadily. 

The man shakes his head and repeats slowly, “Do you know what happened to me after you put me away?”

Luke’s shaken by the question. Ray can tell. 

“They killed them,” he states calmly. “You see, it got out that I was caught, and by a fed no less.  And my kind– they don’t take too kindly to the feds. They mistook my capture for a betrayal.  So…” his voice trails off in the darkness. “So to teach me a lesson, they killed them.”

He clears his throat, his voice returning with a newly found sense of anger as he continues to speak. “Did you know that if you’re in prison, and your wife and son are murdered, you’re not allowed to go to their funeral?”

Ray lowers the gun from your temple. You’re about to inhale a shaky sigh of relief, hoping that maybe he had a change of heart, when he turns the gun, pointing it directly at Luke. 

Everything inside of you ignites, like you’ve been set on fire from within. You press your hands into the arm still barred across your chest and try to get free. 

 “Stop it! Please!” You cry out. “I’ll do anything you want! Please don’t hurt him!”

Ray smiles, he releases you from his grasp and steps back. He leans slightly forward to caress your face. “Oh darling, I’m not going to hurt him.” He presses something cold and hard into your open palm. “You are.”

…

It’s in the evening when a file finally catches Spencer’s eye. He’s elbows deep in paperwork and case files, but this one stands out.  

“Hang on,” Reed thinks out loud. He gets up from the seat he’s been planted in since the morning and makes his way to the drawing board.  “This one– this guy, his name is Malcolm Ray, he was released from prison three weeks ago. His entire family was murdered just a month after he was put away by Luke. It says the killer was never found.”

“The last contact this guy has before he’s put behind bars is Luke,” JJ says. 

Spencer nods. “He associates Luke locking him up with him not being there to protect his family.”

Emily sighs. “That’s certainly motive.”

…

You shake your head harshly. The tears falling down your face are making your vision blurry.  “No,” you plead. “No, no, no.”

The idea of Luke being hurt is terrifying and unnatural. Luke doesn’t get hurt. Luke is the protector. Luke is strong. But the idea of you being the one to hurt Luke is unbearable.  

“Shoot him,” Ray orders. 

You shake your head. 

Ray moves his hands behind his back and draws out another gun. This one, he points directly at the back of your head. You hear the click of the trigger. “Shoot him,” Ray repeats. 

The cold barrel is pressed to your scalp and your adrenaline is surging through your veins. You’re staring at Luke now, desperate for him to give you some of his strength.  

“It’s okay,” he speaks softly. “It’s okay, it’s okay,”

He’s giving you permission– letting you off the hook, so that way if you actually choose to shoot him, you can do it guilt free. Leave it to Luke to look after you, even while he’s staring down death.

You let out a shaky sob, your arms trembling with the weight of the handgun. You shake your head one last time and sigh, defeated. “No.”  

The barrel of the gun pushes harder into your head while you hear Ray mutter, “You stupid–”

But his speech is interrupted when a strong voice echoes through the warehouse. 

“Put it down, Ray!” 

You turn to find the source of the voice, but before you can, you’re being grabbed again and pulled backwards. 

Ray’s holding you to his chest, his arm across your neck, the gun that was pointed to the back of your head is now secured tightly on your temple. 

“Drop it,” a familiar voice orders. For a moment, you think that Rossi is speaking to you. You quickly discard the handgun, letting it crash to the floor.  

“Malcolm, I know what they did to your wife,” Spencer’s there too. He takes a step closer. Your eyes linger on him desperately. “And your son.”

You feel the grip around your neck tighten.  

“I want him to hurt! The way that I hurt!” Ray presses the gun harder and harder to your temple. The angrier he becomes, the rougher he gets with you. You’re scared at what he might do if Spencer pushes him too hard.  

“Making him hurt the way that you hurt isn’t going to bring them back, Malcolm. They’re gone.”

For a moment, the grip on your neck gets unbearably tight. So tight, that you have to fight just to inhale. And it’s in that moment that you realize you were going to die. It seems so inevitable.  Spencer isn’t looking at you, instead his attention is focused on Ray. You wish he would look at you, offer you some sort of comfort. Your vision starts to go blurry and you find that you can’t even inhale anymore.  

Just as you start to accept your new found fate, you feel the grip on your chest loosen. Ray’s arm relaxes and releases you. You lunge forward, your momentum too strong to combat, and tumble to the floor.  

“You’re right,” Ray says. “They’re gone.” You’re barely able to crawl forward before you hear an earth-shatteringly loud bang, followed by the sound of Ray’s body hitting the floor.  

You can’t help but turn around and face it. Ray’s body lays lifeless on the cool, cement ground.  A pool of blood is already spreading around his own head.   

You stay stuck like that, unable to move or breathe or think or do anything. You suppose this was what shock felt like– complete and utter numbness. Like time is standing still. Like your mind is no longer connected to your body.  

A gentle hand lightly touches your shoulder and you’re awoken from your trance. You jump at the contact, to find Spencer hovering over you, a worried look on his face. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, kneeling down so that he’s eye level with you. 

You nod– a lie if you ever told one. But you aren’t concerned with yourself at the moment. You sit back on your heels, your hands resting in your lap. The air is suddenly hotter than it’s been all evening.

The red blood spreads so fast on the concrete floor. It oozes thickly in a perfectly round circle. You’re so open, so vulnerable. You don’t feel safe in the open like this. You want to bury yourself in your sheets at home, and wake up to find that this had all been a dream. But sure enough, when you place your hand on your own arm and start scratching vigorously, trying to wake yourself up, you can’t. This is real.  

Your ears are ringing as you fall into a pit of darkness, nails digging deeper into your own skin. It’s getting unbearably hot. It’s terrifying how alone you feel. 

In a muffled daze, you suddenly hear your name being called.   

Once Emily frees him from his restraints, Luke wastes no time in hoisting himself up and rushing over to you. It’s hard to miss his girl sobbing on the ground.  

You’re crying harder than he’s ever witnessed, and it makes his knees nearly buckle as he runs closer. Your nails are digging into your own skin and you’re unable to catch even a single second of breath. 

When Luke reaches you, he can’t possibly move fast enough. With hands outstretched, he desperately tries to grasp onto any part of you that he can get. You’re trembling, and for a split moment, he notices you flinch from his touch.   

“Baby, it’s me,” he assures you, choking on his own words.  

It takes you a minute, but soon you realize it’s Luke kneeling beside you. Luke– with his hands on your face. Luke’s not hurting you. Luke’s would never hurt you. 

“Shh,” Luke soothes, pulling you into his arms quickly. “I’m here, God– I’m so sorry,” he breaks off when you grasp at his bicep, fingers digging into the cloth of his shirt, craving to be closer and closer to him. “I’m here,” he repeats. 

Luke holds you steady, his hand traveling up and down your back comfortingly. After a while, your tear ducts run dry and there’s simply nothing left but exhaustion. You rest your head on his chest.  

Once Luke notices that you’ve calmed down slightly, he adjusts his grip on your body and stands the two of you up. “C’mere,” he murmurs. Without waiting for a response, he bends, wraps his arms around your knees and lifts you into his arms. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, letting your sobs subside while he whispers how much he loves you in your ear.  

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” Luke suggests.  

You close your eyes against his chest and simply breathe him in as Luke carries you bridal style out of the warehouse. 

You spent the rest of the night attached to Luke. The car ride home you’re glued to his side, his arm wrapped securely around your waist as he mumbles soft words into your ear. When you walk up to your shared house, Luke makes sure to guide each step you take, his steadiness making up for your shakiness. His strong hand resting on your hip. Only once you’re back in the four walls of your own house, do you venture away from him.  

You find yourself crawling into bed still fully clothed. You don’t have the energy to do anything else. You’re staring at the blank wall in front of you when you feel a strong arm wrap around your waist. Luke rests his head on your shoulder. You leaned into his arms, finding his hand to hold tightly.  

“It’s over.” Luke whispers in your ear.  

The words made you relax slightly.  

“It’s over,” he repeats. “He’s dead– he’s gone.”  

Luke plants a soft kiss to your shoulder blade and you tug him closer against you. His warm breath is comforting and familiar on your neck. And you finally feel safe, in his arms.  

“It’s over,” you repeat, exhaling the breath of air you’ve been holding.  

#criminal minds #luke alvez #luke alvez fic #luke alvez imagine #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez x reader imagine #luke alvez x reader fic #criminal minds imagine #luke alvez x reader fanfic #criminal minds x reader

[pjoxreader]

hey! so i read the 'what if reader betrays them' and was thinking it really seems like reader was forced to do this, so thats what im here for. id like to request a pt 2 with percy, annabeth, and leo, where reader dies, and says "ive always loved, since the beginning, before i had to do this, i never meant to play with your heart. make sure this doesnt happen to anyone else... i love you..." or something along the lines of this, so it just really angsty and also like "im about to kill whoever made you do this" and just like how they reacted to that! thanks, sorry if its too long!

Reader Betrays Them Part 2

((I hope you enjoy! It gets very angsty and a bit graphic so be ready for that!))

TW: Death, Gore

Percy Jackson

-You stopped before you could cut him down, falling to your knees. You made it this far yet you couldn’t go through with it. Now you put your family was in danger and you couldn’t help the tears streaming down your face.

-”I failed… I’m so sorry… Mom…” you choke out voice cracking. Percy is at your side in seconds holding you close in a hug. You missed the warmth of his arms so you choke back a sob and hug him close.

-For just those few seconds you forgot you were in the midst of war. Half-bloods fighting one another, blood staining the once colorful flower field. That’s when you see it. Someone raising a spear to throw into Percy’s back.

-Your body moves on its own, forcing Percy to flip over with you. Then you feel it. A sharp pain, a warmth and then… Then a burning ache. Your voice catches in your throat as the pain was so bad you couldn’t even form a scream coughing up blood. 

-You could see the look of utter horror in Percy’s eyes, a shaky smile forming on your face as you take a bloodied hand to his cheek to try and soothe him. Despite your own pain there was nothing worse than seeing the agony on Percy’s face. ”I’m sorry… I’m so sorry Percy I’ve always loved you…” you manage to choke out spitting up some blood.

-”No… No save your strength, you can tell me everything once you get better.” Percy was shaking, digging through his pack to find nectar or anything to help you. You gently take his hand. “My family… Please… Please protect them… Stop… The monster from… Hurting anyone else.” you plead. Your final request. Percy grits his teeth hard enough you worry they’d break but does nod. You smile in relief knowing Percy wouldn’t fail and with that you close your eyes content with the life you lived, hearing Percy scream in rage as you fade away.

Annabeth Chase

-You were just another traitor. You knew that. Just another person who had managed to hurt Annabeth… You didn’t have a choice. If you helped this monster it swore it’d spare Annabeth. That’s all you cared about.

-The two of you had sparred plenty of time before this, but this was different. The rage and anger in her eyes mixed with subtle tears. It hurt. Your heart felt like it was splitting in two. “Why! Why do you have to betray me too!?” She demands from you, voice quivering. 

-You try to say something to explain yourself in some way, but seeing an arrow flying towards her your body moves on its own. Capturing her in a tight hug. This surprises her as she tries to shove you back “W-What are you doing!?” she demands shoving you back.

-It was painful, it felt like someone had stabbed you with a hot knife but it felt worse when Annabeth shoved you away. You stumble back falling onto your ass and cough up some blood. You could see Annabeth’s gears turning in her head before she understands what happens paling and going to your side.

-You can’t help but laugh at that. You had been trying for years to surprise Annabeth and it never once worked. Now it has. “I… I could never stay mad at you Annabeth…” you say shakily feeling poison spreading through your blood like a hot fever. You could feel yourself getting dizzy and weak as Annabeth makes you lean against her trying to check the wound. “Why… Why would you do this!?” She demands tears streaming down her face.

-You shakily reach up using the last of your energy to rub her tears away. “For you… They swore… They’d spare you… If… if I joined them…” you manage to choke out. “I’m sorry… For doubting your strength.. But… But you were too important to me.” your words were getting weaker as you felt your body shake with chills. “I love you…” you manage to choke out with a wheeze. Annabeth gently rests her forehead against yours and as your vision fades away you could hear her faintly say “I love you too.”.

Leo Valdez

-Leo was smart and brave. You always knew that, but seeing his anger and frustration turned on you hurt. He threw fireballs at you, so you quickly dodge moving in to close the distance between you two. You were at a severe disadvantage with his range. He stops your advances by setting the grass and flowers in front of you on fire.

-You wouldn’t be able to get close to him, there’s no way. But then he does something you don’t expect. He jumps through the fire pinning you to the ground, he stops the flames that had crawled its way up his body by forcing himself to take deep breaths. “Why… Tell me why you did this!” he pleads with you, his voice cracking slightly at the end. 

-The pain in his eyes is enough to make you crack, not being able to stop the tears that stream down your face. “Because I love you Leo.” you manage to choke out. The look of utter confusion was clear on his face, but before you could explain you watch as one of Leo’s explosions go off near you both. 

-You didn’t hesitate to flip Leo over and shield him with your body as you see green flames burst and die around you. You let out a weak cry of pain feeling your back light up in pain and then it was gone. You could feel the area around the burn arching like a lit torch was being held to it, it must have burned through your nerves. “No! No!” You hear Leo scream checking your back.  -You could see the color fade from his face as he goes ghostly pale and that’s when you knew. “I’m sorry…” you choke out realizing that you may never get the chance to tell him everything. You force yourself to focus all your energy into talking. “No, no, save your energy. I’ll get some ambrosia!” Leo tries but you knew it wouldn’t do any good.

-”Just… Listen.” you plead with him, weakly taking his hand. He takes a shaky breath and nods, holding your hand instead rubbing gentle circles on your palm. “I’ve always loved you… Ever… Ever since you talked to me at camp… They… They put me under a curse… If… If I didn’t help them… I would be forced to kill you..” you manage to explain. You could feel the coolness of Leo’s tears against your hand which was a starch contrast to the burning in your back. “I love you too… I… I could never stop loving you…” You could feel your vision blur as you give a weak smile seeing Leo on fire with a roar of anguish. Your last thought being of how his flames make him look like a shining star.

~Masterlist & Rules~

Like my writing? Please consider sending me a Ko-fi! ☕

#pjo x reader #pjo #leo valdez x reader #percy jackson x reader #angst #lots of angst #pjo angst #pjo x reader angst #annabeth chase x reader #hoo x reader #hoo

[69dias]

jjk drabble: tease

a/n: perhaps writers block has killed me for real and I am SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SORRY!!!! i cooked this up on the first hour of a plane to New York and it was originally abt our wonderful liverpool RB Trent AA but alas … jungkook gets the crown. enjoy.

warnings: app control vibrator, fucking in public, voyeurism and slight exhibitionism, slight d/s Dynamics (she calls him sir once it’s whatever), mean jungkook who is also very much a sweetheart, spitting (on da pussy WOAH) … I think that’s it

wc: 1.6k she’s a baby IM SORRY

jungkook is a tease. it’s one of the first things you learned about him, and it’s one of those things that you’ve grown to love, even if — especially if — they’ve been the causes of serious hitches in your relationship. other such things include his competitiveness, the little spirals of self-deprecation, all of them. but most of all, his tendency to tease you.

and though you’ve grown to love it, right about now is one of those times you realize why exactly it caused those hitches in your relationships because if he doesn’t let up in the next minute, you’re ready to go over to where he’s sitting and choke the life out of him.

surely, murders committed a thousand feet above international waters couldn’t have any real consequences, right? 

to set the scene of your predicament, imagine three things: a flight to New York, a vibrator that connects to someone’s phone, and that someone, being jeon jungkook. the tease, who’s somehow managed to find the only way to make a first class flight uncomfortable. 

you swear you’re going to kill him. 

it’s not the fact that it feels bad in the slightest. lush manufacturing is incredible, and the small sparks of pleasure in between your thighs are enough proof of it. the vibrations can go up all the way, pulsing on top of your clit with scary accuracy — a preview of what jungkook promised you in exchange for this insane excapade — leaving you wet and sloppy until just crossing your legs would push you straight over the precipice of the edge, fuck the seatbelt sign preventing you from doing it, or they can be little thrums, mimicking soft kitten licks all over your heat, so good that they leave you arching your back to get a better angle —

no. it’s not that it feels bad.

it’s just that it could feel so much better if he would just let you cum.

but alas, he’s a fucking tease, and he knows you like the back of his own hand, down to the time it takes you to reach the point of no return. you’re sure he can see you, too, with where he’s sitting and how you can practically feel his vision sear into your skin which feels like it’s on fire as is. it practically hurts how close you are, nails digging into the palm of your hand to keep from moaning out loud — or worse, begging out loud.

if only you had the genius idea of a vibrating cock ring more than 30 minutes before leaving for the airport, jungkook would know exactly how tantalizing this felt for you. 

the thing about being in such a vulnerable position, though, is the lack of jungkook’s presence. typically, when he’s beneath you, head caught between your thighs as he eats you out like it’s his last meal, or when he’s holding a toy to your clit until the last possible second, you know he’s right there. it’s the verbal affirmations: I got you, you’re doing incredible, that’s my girl, just a little more, just a little more for me, and the physical touch: a hand on your lower back or his lips ghosting over your boobs or just something aside from the surprisingly soft blanket draped across your thighs.

you pick up your phone to tell him this, to tell him to meet you in the bathroom or whatever he can manage because of the damn seatbelt sign, but it seems like he’s beat you to it.

JK💗: close, baby?

JK💗: look at you. you look so pretty from here.

JK💗: god, you’re perfect, aren’t you? just so pretty and pliant for me.

[__]: im going to murder you.

JK💗: that’s a bit rude, no?

JK💗: you think that’s what a good girl would say if she wanted to cum?

[__]: you’ve lost your mind . im so fucking Close this is unfair 

JK💗: who said i’d be fair? i told you to be good, and you’re really not doing that right now 

[__]: fuck you

[__]: no wait

JK💗: cmon honey. what do we say when we’ve been rude?

JK💗: I can see you reading these, baby. gotta give me an answer.

[__]: please, im sorry.

JK💗: attagirl, sweetheart. you wanna cum?

[__]: yeah 

JK💗: what’s that?

[__]: yes, sir. please.

JK💗: look up, honey. seatbelt sign’s off. bathroom in 2?

he turns off the vibrations right as you tilt your head up to confirm that the sign has, indeed, been switched off. it’s well-earned relief, but the reminder that you’ve been so violently toyed with still covers your inner thighs and you’ve never missed something yet been so happy that it was finally gone before. 

when you turn your head to jungkook’s seat, he’s no longer there, and the small pulse between your legs comes alive again as you realize what’s about to happen when you meet him in the bathroom. 

two minutes is too long, far too long, but you’ve weathered the last half hour of torturous edging which has straight up convinced you that you could fight a war if you so pleased. you sneak a hand between your thighs, pressing ever so softly to somehow fuck the toy against you but it’s really to no avail because jungkook texts you just as you do.

JK💗: cmon honey, coast’s clear.

you don’t think you’ve ever moved that fast in your life.

—

jungkook, is, as it goes, just as generous as he is a tease.

you think it’s worth it, all of the torture and the feeling of having a high snatched from you so violently right when you’re at the precipice of it, your bitten lips and indented palms being physical proof of the denial you endured for so long —

it’s all worth it, every bit of it. 

because jungkook is beneath you, caught between your legs, licking at your clit, the fabric that’s practically stuck to your skin from the arousal that dripped from you ever since he started the worst foreplay known to man pulled aside. he’s desperate too, and if you were to move your foot an inch to the left to rest on his thigh, you don’t have a doubt that you’d be met with his hardened dick, but you don’t give a fuck; relishing in the fact that he’s getting karma and you’re getting eaten out.

your hands are caught in his hair, pushing him impossibly closer as he tongue fucks you, his own fingers dimpling the skin of your bare thighs as he gives you all the touches you were missing just a few minutes ago. jungkook is big on eye contact, and the soft nipping at your clit is enough of a message for your head to snap down, meeting his large eyes from where he’s kneeling on the floor.

they’re red rimmed with his own carnal desire, pupils blown out as you can practically see how his jaw moves so he can give you exactly what you deserve —

“fuck, fuck, please — jungkook, please.”

he pulls away for a second, and a soft whine of disappointment colors the air at his absence. he doesn’t let you feel it for too long though, opting to plant a kiss on your inner thigh before he speaks.

“shhhh, baby. don’t wanna get banned from these airlines now, do we?” his voice has a humorous bite to it, but the demand from him is clear enough that you know not to disobey, clamping your own hand over your face to not make noise.

jungkook’s mouth on your pussy doesn’t fare better, though, the obscenely slick noises loud even through the faint ringing of your ears as you get closer to your high. he’s opted to just flick at your clit now, one of his fingers prodding at your entrance until you spread your legs like an absolute slut getting fucked in an airplane bathroom to grant him permission.

you don’t care, though, because all you can focus on is his warm mouth on you, all you can focus on is how his thick digit reaches just the right spot inside of you, all you can focus on is the way he slides another one in with ease that should be humiliating but you don’t care.

the coil in your stomach tightens and you know that he’s aware of this because his eyes darken; fingers pumping in and out of you with a renewed vigor and goal — to make you cum.

the previous highs that you were so meanly denied of come back to you, coiling in the tresses of your stomach as you realize how filthy, how risky this whole thing is.

it’s has you biting down on your palm, hips bucking into jungkook’s relentless mouth as he pulls your thighs impossible further apart, pulling away for just a split second to spit on your pussy like you’re nothing but a deserted street.

that does it for you; the dominance and the bit of dehumanization that should be demeaning but it’s nothing other than incredibly attractive. it has the coil snapping violently, tears spilling from your eyes as the vigor of your high finally reaches a climax, wracking through every nerve in your body until you have both of your hands pulled up to your face to stop the moans threatening to spill from your mouth.

he lets you ride his face through it, sticking his tongue out and slapping the side of your thighs so you keep looking at him until you exhaust yourself out. 

the pulsating pleasure eventually dims itself down into a slow thrum that runs through your veins, colored in with a satisfying exhaustion that has you slumping into jungkook’s arms when he pulls himself up with a groan.

he kisses your temple, warm hand rubbing the small of your back through your (his) sweatshirt. 

“that good enough, baby?”

#jungkook #jungkook smut #bts #jungkook drabbles #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #jungkook/reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook blurbs #jungkook fics #jungkook fic #jungkook au #jungkook drabble #bts smut #bts drabbles

[lackadaisy-headcanon-supply-unit]

AHHHHH IM SO EXCITED! Okay I’ve holdin this back for ages BUT, if I could request a romantic relationship absinthe imagine of our dearly fluffy and charming Nicodeme Savoy with a male or gender neutral reader, your choice of the flavoring, who tends to copy things that the people they like do. For example, they like Nico? Suddenly they catch notice of the bandana he wears and starts wearing one too. They find themselves slipping into a little cajun accent or repeating french words they’ve heard him speak. Any gestures they notice he does, or expressions he makes? They start to do it too. Assimilation via infatuation, if you will, for those of us that are neurodivergent and enjoy doing habits of those we love.

I've been digging around the back for a bit and got lost in the crates, my apologies, but I happen to have found a bottle of good ol' inspiration for this. Let me pour you out this imagine, my dear customer...

Nicodeme Savoy has an eye for a lot of things, which is surprising since his are often black and bandaged from many a savage fight. Nevertheless, imagine one evening he's allowed to relax. For once, Mr Sweet has left them all alone for the night with no outstanding duties to attend to. He can kick his feet up and sit back and watch as the Marigold's joint starts to fill up with the warm liquid gold of their regular, well-off patrons.

Suddenly, he stops, glass poised in the air, rim barely grazing his lips. He stops, he stares.

Y/N L/N is wearing his bandana.

Well, not exactly, because Nico is wearing it now, but it's so similar. It's almost an exact copy, as exact as someone could get it without dragging the poor scrap of fabric through what Nico had with his.

Now Nico is pleasantly surprised. He had never expected to influence any fashion trends, least of all one worn by a recent one-night stand. He has to admit, it looks good on Y/N.

However, the longer he stares at him, the more Nico starts to notice more things. Details to be sure, but familiar enough to catch his attention.

A small "cher" casualky dropped in conversation.

The prideful roll of Y/N's shoulders whenever he takes credit for something that may or may not be deserved.

The glint in his eyes Serafine had sworn only Nico had, hence why she would find him in a crowd of millions. He didn't even know it was possible to copy a stare so accurately.

Now Nico definitely knows something's up, but he doesn't react beyond an intense stare.

Y/N turns and catches him looking. He doesn't shy away. Instead, he gets the bartender to pour him a drink—Nico's signature drink—and raises a silent toast with a smirk. He holds the glass the same way. He drinks the same way.

Y/N knows what he's doing, and by god it's working.

Nicodeme is seeing a spitting image of himself—and call him narcissitic or self-absorbed, but he's never been so eager to give that teasing fling more than a single hurried night.

#🦉mod iphiko #lackadaisy #lackadaisy reader insert #nicodeme savoy #nico savoy #nicodeme lackadaisy #lackadaisy nico #absinthe imagines #reader insert #lackadaisy x reader

[waddingham]

would love to hear some happy news today, hows poppy doing 🥺

aw im sorry i didn't see this before i went to bed so here have this <3

When she pushes her hair back for the fifth time in half as many minutes, this time with an adorably tiny huff of frustration, he intervenes.

"Poppy, honey, is your hair botherin' you? You want me to put it up for you?"

She nods, scowling at the game in front of her, and Ted makes a mental note that it might be about time for a haircut.

Poppy pops up and disappears without explanation, so Ted follows her up the stairs to the bathroom. He finds her on her tip-toes digging into a drawer filled with colorful hair contraptions.

"Whatcha lookin' for, hmm?"

"Here," she says, holding up two tiny yellow hair ties to him. "Can you do the plaits like Mama does, please?"

"Oh," he says, taking the hair ties. Shoot.

He has no idea how to do her braids. And he really is certain it won't be as neat and efficient as Rebecca does it.

But she's pointing those doe eyes up at him and it can't be too hard. And he would love to know, to be able to do it as easily as Rebecca, so it's about time he learned.

"That depends," he says, squatting down. "I've never done your braids before, Pop. But if you're patient while I learn, I think we can do it."

Poppy nods and he smiles, sweeping her up onto his hip as he rises.

"Alright, c'mon."

He gets her settled in front of him on the chaise end of the sofa, occupied with a coloring book. They're French braids, he knows that, and he's watched Rebecca do it, but at speeds he couldn't follow if he tried, so his first order of business is a consultation with Mr. Google.

He watches a video as he mindlessly combs his fingers through Poppy's waves, which seem to have less and less real curl by the day. He works out any little tangles with his fingers as he gets the gist of the twist.

"Looks simple enough," he mutters mostly to himself.

He gets her hair parted all the way down, knowing she wants two braids. That should make it easier, maybe, he thinks as he ties up one side to keep it out of the way.

He starts at the top of her head scooping up some hair. He splits it into three sections, then goes back to the video to make sure he's got it right when he starts crossing the side strands over into the middle. He doesn't even get to adding hair before he realizes he is way too close to her part for it to be right, and starts over.

It is tricky. Way trickier than the video or Rebecca makes it look. The first twists are easy enough, but trying to pick up the right amount of hair and add it to the bundle without mixing it in with the other two strands or dropping any is difficult.

"Oh, this takes practice," he mutters as he combs it back out, having accidentally made one strand twice as big as the rest.

"This might take a minute," he warns Poppy. "You okay with that?"

"Yeah. I'm colorin'," she assures him and he smiles. Of course she doesn't care as long as it's out of her face.

He tries to figure the best way to hold onto the strands to not make a mess of this, asking Poppy about what she's coloring as he does some trial and error. Very slowly, he starts to get it, and learns how to backtrack without having to take the whole thing out and start over when he messes it up. Which really speeds the process up.

"Okay," he says slowly, smiling as he braids the ends of her hair until they're too small to work with, bundling them together just below the edge of her shoulder. "I think we got something here."

He holds a hand out in front of her.

"Hair tie me."

She hands him the little elastic and he ties it off. It's a little lopsided as one third grew too fast, maybe a little loose at the top where he was wary of pulling too tight, but it looks like success.

It's easier the second time, now that he's got the motion down, even though he still fumbles a little bit with it. But Poppy's unbothered and he goes slow, trying to get it smoother than the other side.

He grins wide as he secures it, satisfied with the mostly-symmetrical, somewhat messy result.

"How's that, Pops?" he asks, leaning forward. "That feel okay?"

She nods, bringing her hands up to feel it.

"It ain't pullin' or anything?"

"Nope," she says, turning around with a smile. "Good job, Teddy."

He grins at her heartfelt praise as she gives him a little hug before climbing down from the sofa.

"Thank you, pumpkin," he chuckles.

She goes back to her game on the floor and he goes back to his laptop, finishing up his chunk of the coaching report. He kills some time with Poppy then, letting her explain the baffling rules of the game she's made up with the Guess Who? boards. He's just starting to think about what they might do for dinner when he hears Rebecca come in the front door.

She calls out a greeting and Poppy hops up, always eager to greet her mother. She meets her in the doorway to the living room where she gets lifted up with a, "Mummy."

"Hi, baby," Rebecca smiles, kissing her little girl's cheek. She does a double take when she pulls back though, sweeping a hand over her hair. "I didn't do this this morning, did I?"

Poppy shakes her head, smiling. "Teddy did it."

"Teddy did it?" she says, turning to where Ted is still stretched out on the floor. He gives her a smile at the look on her face.

"Well, let's just have a look," she says, setting Poppy on her feet on the couch, where she spins around.

"How'd I do, boss?" he asks.

She nods, the corners of her mouth pulled down in an expression of impressed surprise.

"Very good for your first time and not having someone to teach you," she says, giving him a smile.

"Poppy was very, very patient with me," he praises.

"He only pulled once," Poppy says, turning to her mother with a pointed look.

"Oh, unlike your horrid, evil mother who just lives to tug on your hair," she says dramatically, pulling Poppy into her arms again. She cradles her against her, tickling her belly and squeezing a giggle out of her as she continues to lament, "Oh, how terrible, how cruel she is."

Ted snorts, having heard this particular topic argued probably a dozen times now.

Rebecca drops down onto the couch with Poppy in her arms, letting out a sigh. Poppy wiggles until she gets herself upright on Rebecca's lap, who looks over her hair again with a soft smile, tucking one loose bit beneath another.

"Did you thank Teddy for painstakingly teaching himself how to manage your hair?"

She frowns as she thinks, then gasps, "I forgot!" before she climbs off Rebecca completely.

She comes to him with a sweet, "Thank you, Teddy," and presses a teeny tiny little kiss to his cheek that has him smiling wide.

"You're very welcome, baby."

#poppys doing great. in the ch i have started she's starting school and being so brave about it #i wish i could get more out but all my ideas are like this just half formed little unrelated ideas that i don't know how to put together :( #anon #tl drabbles

[intheticklecloset]

hi! for coffee shots, im not sure how to request them so ill just say whats on my mind 😭

maybe lee fyodor ??!?!?! i love the lil rat guy he's so kewl, you can choose ler.

and and and for sentence start maybe "are you ticklish?" pls pls , also im so sorry if i wrote any of this wrong 😭 LMAO im not sure how to request things

Hey, no worries! You did perfectly! I will say I 100% forgot to add in the "are you ticklish" line, so apologies for that. But I hope you enjoy nonetheless! Decided to attempt writing for Nikolai for the first time, since the ler was left to me. Enjoy!

~~~

Nikolai didn’t love Fyodor.

How could he, given everything?

But he couldn’t quite bring himself to say that he hated Fyodor, either. Not when the Russian – despite his cruelty and cunning and downright demonic spirit – was so adorable when he was being tickled.

“Nihihihihiki, I swehehehehehear!” Fyodor giggled now, curling up on himself, going to bat at the hand digging fingers into his side but finding only empty air. Then those same fingers were in his opposite ribs, and he yelped and twisted the other way, again only just in time to see Nikolai’s fingertips disappear through his portal ability. “Cut it out!”

“Hmm, quite a bold demand to make for someone in your unfortunate position.”

Nikolai was unbothered, giving the Russian just enough time to plant both feet back on the ground before sticking his hand back through the portal and swiping up Fyodor’s spine.

Fyodor shrieked and stumbled forward, then turned and gave Nikolai a cold stare. “If you don’t cease this at once, I will make you pay like you’ve never paid be-fohohohohohore!”

“Yes, yes. Doom shall befall me and all that, I know,” Nikolai said nonchalantly, scribbling into his knee from behind, narrowly avoiding a kick to his fingers. He smirked to himself behind his cape, suddenly getting an idea. “I think you rather deserve this punishment, don’t you, Fyodor? I mean, after all you put me through…this is really the least I could do.”

Fyodor nearly collapsed to the ground when his other knee was tickled, but he was quicker this time. He whirled around with a kick, fully intending to break his assailant’s fingers, but Nikolai pulled back just in time, then shot his arm out again with a purpose.

Fyodor realized his mistake the instant his foot was in the air, but it was too late now.

Nikolai grabbed his ankle and pulled it through the portal, leaning back comfortably in his seat and dragging his fingernails across the bare sole that was now all his.

Several paces away, Fyodor finally did collapse to the ground, giggling hysterically and squirming helplessly, cursing in Russian when Nikolai slipped a finger between his toes and wiggled.

“Stohohohohohop! You’ll pahahahahahay for this, Nihihihihihiki!”

Nikolai smirked, crossing his legs and trapping the ankle between them, freeing both hands to tickle Fyodor to pieces from a safe distance. “You know, Fyodor, it would be easier to believe you if you were using my actual name~”

#fanfiction #tickle drabble #coffee shots #bungo stray dogs #bsd #fyodor dostoyevsky #nikolai gogol #fyolai #tickling #ticklish #tickle

[effervescentdragon]

for @stormxpadme ❤️ youre the best, im keeping that ask with all the options for the future bcs theyre all 👀

"It could be Asfaloth," Charles chimed in absently, and Sebastian clucked his tongue, equally annoyed and endeared.

"Asfaloth is the horse in Lord of the Rings, Charles, for God's sake," he said with much less patience than he usually had. He still couldn't quite supress the smile on his face.

Charles' cheeks were red when he looked up from the huge tome he was perusing. "Ah, yes, I - I took your advice about my bedside reading. I meant to say Ashmedai."

Sebastian froze. "Asmodeus," he breathed out. "Oh, oh, that's - that's brilliant, Charles! It - it fits the MO to a T, attacking sex workers, and wasn't the latest victim a Madame? Fuck, that..." he trailed off, shuffling through his papers for the crime report.

"I didn't think priests could swear," Charles remarked as he started digging through the pile of papers in an effort to help Sebastian.

"Former priest," Sebastian said, and his chest only hurt a little. "I was dismissed from my clerical state, Charles."

Charles said nothing, only pulled a paper out and held it out to Sebastian after skimming it. "Here's the latest report. It says that there was reasonable suspicion that the dismembered woman was the head of a high-class prostitution ring. What do we do now?" he asked.

Sebastian read through the report quickly, thinking about the implications of their hypothesis. He'd confronted Asmodeus once, though not directly, and he knew how to bind him enough so he'd be compelled to answer their questions. But if this was true, if it was really Asmodeus in their realm, then that meant that the lines between the worlds weren't holding the way they were supoosed to. If a Prince of Hell was able to cross them... Sebastian didn't dare think of the implications. They were too horrenduous for him to ponder now, when he had a job to do.

He turned to Charles, who was observing him with those unnaturally green eyes of his.

"Now, we set a trap," Sebastian said, and tried not to let Charles' fully trusting gaze affect him. "Now, we trap the demon, and see what we are dealing with."

-

"Charles, run! Run, now -" he screamed, but it was too late.

The impact hurled him across the room. Before he could even try to catch his breath, the demon pinned him to the wall, making it impossible for him to move even an inch.

"Father Sebastian Vettel," it spoke in a voice made of fumes. "Be it possible that we meet again." It laughed, and Sebastian felt like his ears would start bleeding any moment. "I see your soul still shines bright, as torn as it is by your - oooh." It cackled, then turned to where Charles sat on the floor against the wall, eyes wide and terrified, unable to move.

"Oh, and he is as torn by his lust as you are," the demon said gleefully, and Charles' terrified gaze fell on Sebastian. "What a pair of fools you two are, both so deep in your pathetic human self-loathing to see how much you burn for each other."

Sebastian didn't dare close his eyes, no matter how much he wanted to. It was imperative for him to get Charles out of here somehow.

"Take me," he said through a throat that felt like it was filled with glass shards. "Take me, you know me, you know who I am, and leave him be. He is innocent."

The demon laughed. It was a horrible sound.

"Oh, Father," it said as it moved slowly towards where Charles was. "I am Asmodeus, Prince of Hell. My domain is Lechery and Lust, and you are only human. There is nothing you can do to stop me from taking this piteous realm for my own."

Sebastian knew this was true as the demon spoke it. His binding had failed, he wasn't strong enough, and now the world will pay the price. He only hoped the demon would grant Charles a swift death, though he doubted it. Asmodeus must have felt Sebastian's feelings for Charles and it would find it amusing to prolong Charles' suffering as a sure way to torture Sebastian. Sebastian's love would bring Charles doom anyway, just like Sebastian always knew it would.

He only wished he'd been smarter, and more selfish, and took one of the million chances he'd had to show to Charles how much he meant to Sebastian, if their end was to be a painful death anyway.

Charles coughed. Both Sebastian and Asmodeus turned to him. Charles still looked terrified, but there was something weird about the way he was avoiding looking at them.

"You're wrong," Charles rasped. He must have inhaled as much smoke as Sebastian did. "You see, although Seb may not be strong enough to resist you, I am."

Sebastian gasped when Charles finally lifted his head and looked straight at Sebastian. His emerald eyes were full of regret and sorrow, but more importantly, they glowed.

"Forgive me," he said, and as he did he rose from the floor like nothing was holding him down. Sebastian didn't want to think about it, because he couldn't move, and to resist the power of a Prince of Hell, Charles would have to be... not human.

"Close your eyes, Seb," Charles said, and if it were an order Sebastian would have refused. It wasn't; it was a plea, and so Sebastian obeyed.

The last thing he saw before he closed his eyes was Charles pull a flaming sword from thin air. The first thing he heard after closing his eyes were Asmodeus' screams of fury and Charles' answering ones in the same, unearthly language.

Sebastian kept his eyes closed, and for the first time in years, he believed as he prayed.

#i dont know what this is #but here it is #demonic au i guess #sebchal #f1 rpf #effervescentdragonwrites #my writing

[atxxzist]

broken | c.s (05)

prev // next // series m.list

pairing: choi san x reader

word count: 5.7k

warning: san is awful im sorry, depictions of anxiety & trauma, lots of insecurities, very brief smut scene, pls do lmk if i missed anything!

the irony of it to rain on such a day might just be a pure coincidence, or maybe life really is cruel and it's a sick reflection of your current situation.

you're sure it's just the weather but it does feel like the sky is laughing at you; at the conflicts running rounds in your head and all the unanswered questions that only keeps adding up.

you exit the bathroom with showered hair and slightly drenched clothes, eyes immediately landing on san's angled figure as he goes to search the fridge for something.

it's the first time he doesn't instantly kick you out or tried to leave after sex, instead having told you to get cleaned up and proceeded to hand you a set of clean clothes.

you don't know why or how he just has that laying around considering he lives alone and very much only wear men's attires. or perhaps you do, but you don't allow yourself to even think of the possibility.

you stand still in your spot, unsure of what to say. the last time you actually had a proper conversation with him was so long ago, if you're not spewing something suggestive in response or moaning his name, it's like you don't know how to talk to him anymore.

fortunately, he notices you before you're to say anything.

"hey, you're back," he says, coming off a little too enthusiastic that has your head turning towards the light once again; that small ounce of hope that he's happy to see your return.

"hey," you reply with a smile.

he closes the fridge--your attention moving to the can of sprite in his clutch as he takes a sip. he's in sweatpants and a black t-shirt, hair still a little wet and messy from having just taken a shower before you but he looks so good. he always does.

"want one?" he offers, gesturing to the drink in his hold. you shake your head.

he hums and proceeds to take another gulp. you continue standing in front of the bathroom door for a few more seconds before heading to the couch with small, awkward steps.

your palms dig into your knees and your lips are shut tight as you think of something to say; something that will make the time spent with him all more memorable in comparison to the ones before.

"hey, san..."

the weather was more leniet at first--only small sprinkles and droplets that coats your eyelashes, making your vision all more blurry. but it grows increasingly worse.

the sprinkles and droplets morphing into heavy rain that wets the pavements and has everyone rushing for any kind of cover--including you.

you find yourself under the hood of a convenience store with at most three other people, hoping the rain will die out soon or at least enough so you guys can continue on your day, though knowing it's not going to happen any sooner.

the weather doesn't magically change just because it's bringing misery to all those around.

and you would've taken a cab, but just yesterday you realized that most of your spendings went to cab fares--going and coming back from san's place, if you continue on any longer, you just might wind up penniless by the end of the month.

so you opted for traveling by foot since the distance from campus isn't too bad. you just didn't think mother nature would have other plans in mind.

you don't even notice how close you are to the entrance of the store until someone's chest hits your back, causing you to fly just a step forward.

"sorr--" both of you utter at the same time; you turning around and the word gets clogged immediately because it's not a stranger that happened to bump into you, but someone you recognize.

"oh... what are the chances." yeosang laughs; the door slamming behind him.

he has an umbrella in one hand and a bag in the other.

"right, what are the chances," you repeat after.

"waiting for someone, or?"

"no," you deny with furrowed brows. "it's raining hard."

"oh..." his eyes light up. "just as they forecasted. reason why i brought an umbrella, though it was pretty light before."

right... the weather forecast. why didn't you think of that?

"what do you like to watch?" you ask, the idea having came along because of his tv situated in front.

he doesn't answer right away, settling on a short silence first.

"just movies and the occasional dramas."

you nod slowly, deciding if you should pry any further, because ever since the first question you asked him, you've gathered up a strange amount of confidence to make up for your curiosity regarding what kind of person san is.

he didn't seem to be on board with it the first time, but he was somewhat neutral about it the second and third time, answering without the bitterness that used to grace his tone.

his answers proved to be very efficient in filling up a certain section of your notebook you've titled: facts about choi san.

birthday: july 10th

favorite color: purple

major cat lover

"any specific ones in mind?" you pry either way, but in the end, curiosity does indeed kill the cat.

he appreciates your efforts; the willingness to learn about someone like him, but he's told you... that it won't matter. because soon enough, you will see that he is someone not worth knowing; not worth all the time or efforts.

he answered your questions in hope of you understanding that--not because he somehow had a change of mind. and he really doesn't want to do it; he thinks you're too sweet and too kind, but he's gonna have to.

because if he doesn't do it now, he's going to have to do it some time in the future--tell you what all of this between you and him really is, and that you have it all wrong, even if he's the one to feed the idea into your head.

all this deeper talk and getting to know's--it won't matter and it likely never will. because choi san doesn't do relationships and he has never loved anyone ever.

"what were you even doing out and about anyways?" yeosang asks.

you want to snark back just because he's yeosang and for all you know, that might've been a jab. but you don't.

because he's allowing you to walk back to campus with him, huddling under the lone umbrella he brought.

"i just got back from the first day of my job."

"ah," he lets out like it's all coming together. "that was kind of quick."

"what is?" you turn to him.

"well, the job field has been kind of tough lately. and you found one pretty fast. that's kind of impressive."

you snicker, because a compliment from yeosang is almost too uncanny, and also because it's definitely not impressive at all. if only he knew how you came about getting the job.

you had a similar conversation with mingi and yunho not too long ago; them with equally eager ears to hear about how you went at scoring a job before them.

if you wanted to give them a heart attack, you would tell the truth. thankfully, you care for their well-being.

"i guess so..." you mumble.

he doesn't answer; the both of continuing on with light steps, kicking the wet pavement that causes the water to rise and then drop.

you feel surprisingly at peace; calm, and like you can breathe even if just for a short while. how odd of you to feel such a thing when yeosang's by your side.

you sneak a quick glance his direction, but it's enough to catch how far he has the umbrella toward your end, it's barely covering him--proven when you slouch over slightly and see that his side and shoulder are wet.

you take the initiative to grab a part of the umbrella's handle to scoot it over to his side.

"your things are going to get wet," you refer to his short snacks run. you're definitely not concerned about him.

he looks down at the bag from your comment, seeing that only the side is partly damped, he shrugs it off.

"almost there," is all he says; you trying to keep from rolling your eyes and protesting when he scoots the umbrella back to cover your entire head.

"you walked here?" he shifts the topic.

"well, yes," you answer.

"and you didn't think of taking a cab or having someone pick you up in this weather?"

"no..."

no one you know--that being mingi and yunho, owns a car and a cab is out of your budget, and that despite the standing of yours and san's 'relationship' as of currently, you hoped he would've at least offered you a ride or something.

because he was the one who got you the job, and you did told him they finally called you back; that you were scheduled for training the following day.

just wishful thinking.

the dorms is within view soon enough; yeosang walking with you to yours and stopping at the front where the rain cannot reach, fast to shrink the umbrella away.

his and yunho's room is just in the next building, only a short walk ahead.

"next time, bring an umbrella or check the forecast at least." it sounds like he's scolding you and you can't help but to crack a tiny smile.

"okay, mom," you reply playfully and he scoffs in return.

"and don't think i'm growing a soft spot for you or something. but it would truly be a shame if i left you out there. can't have yunho and mingi worrying if something was to happen to you."

you roll your eyes but let a dry chuckle escape. because though his words are harsh, something tells you he's just trying to put on a front and probably doesn't mean it. at least not all of it.

"whatever you say." there's a provoking smile on your face, but he brushes it off.

"see you," he mumbles hardly audible and already turns his back on you, but stops in track when you shout his name making his feet shuffle around.

he doesn't say anything, only raising an eyebrow.

"thank you," you utter just loud enough for him but with a softer tone you didn't even know you were capable of.

confusion strikes his expression as if he heard it wrong, but when you don't budge--only keeping a still smile on, his face relaxes.

"yeah..." he replies.

tears seem to have welled up in your eyes; a radiant glow in them that san can see even from where he's standing.

he didn't mean to snap at you like that--having came off so short and annoyed from your eagerness and nonstop questions. he knows you're delicate and fragile; he knows.

but you wouldn't stop asking; wouldn't stop prying, and he had to do it. but now that your palms are rubbing over your knees with trembly lips and tears pricking your vision, he definitely does feel a little shitty.

a heavy sigh leaves him, one hand raking over his hair but he still puts his drink down to walk to where you are, taking the empty seat beside.

your lashes flutters once and a lone tear drops down to your cheek before you wipe it away with a sniffle.

he's definitely had his name cursed before but he hasn't exactly had a crying girl who makes him retract even for a mere second.

he scoots closer, shortening the gap and his hands reaches for you to look at him; clasps on the side of your face so he can meet your eyes--dull, sad ones--different to those he's used to seeing that's overflowed with hatred and anger.

"hey, hey..." he murmurs whisper-like, thumbs soothing over your skin as if you're a wounded animal and needs only the utmost care or you'll break any moment.

"you okay?" his gaze sinks into yours and it could've convinced you he really does care. perhaps a part of you already believes it.

"i-i just don't get why you always get so short-tempered when i ask something..." you manage to get out through the quivering on your lips.

his eyes drop to his lap with a low sigh before he fixates them on yours again.

"i just don't think they're that important."

“even if i answer, it won’t matter.” his words from last time all of a sudden coming back, and they ring so similarly.

your lips distort into a pout, both your hands slowly creeping up to overtake his.

"i just want to know more about you. that's it," you say almost like a whine.

it's probably annoyance that crosses his face; him having told you more than once already and still, you're insisting.

"baby," he coos, his touch are like silk when he goes to tuck some strands of hair behind your ear. he thinks your eyes are even sadder without all the loose strands in the way.

"you're overthinking."

silence fills the room shortly before you speak again.

"then... can i just ask you one last question? only one more."

the hesitation that graces his body language doesn't go unnoticed, but he nods and ushers, "go ahead."

you have to swallow down the pit in your stomach; ignore the voice in your head that's probably internally cringing, because what you're about to say is going to make you sound pathetic as hell.

"a-are we in a relationship?"

it's the question that's been on your mind for the longest time ever since he kissed you and more. all of this... what does it mean?

the way he's unmoved in his position with a blank expression makes you want to recoil. because though you're practically an amateur when it comes to such a thing, you do want him to say yes.

"no? i don't think so?"

the deep disappointment that leaves your chest along with a rough exhale has san scrambling for a second attempt. his hands has moved to his laps by now, but his eyes stays gawking at you.

"well... define relationship. there's many kinds."

now he's trying to deflect; prolong the painful revelation for just a little longer. because when he breaks it to you, he knows it will hurt a lot.

"i mean, are we dating?" you keep your gaze trained on him, eyes not even wandering for a second--like if you keep it there, he will answer faster... though you already know what he's going to say. the first answer he gave is very telling.

you were just hoping you could defy all odds.

"no."

there's no shame or embarrassment in the way he said it. you almost wish there was; that there would be even just the smallest of guilt that slips out. but nothing. he doesn't even feel sorry enough to detach from your gaze. in fact, it has never left.

"then... what are we?"

the ease in his movements and features; lacking of any kind of tenseness that has taken over you completely tells you this is a much bigger deal to you than him.

"we're..." he drags his words before finishing it off, "friends." a smile settling on him after that makes you feel so sick--whether it's from how attractive he still looks or how the answer brings out so many other questions.

"friends?" you reiterate like you're in denial.

"yeah, friends."

"do friends sleep with each other?" kiss each other, visit one another and spew such sweet, blush-inducing words that conjures up butterflies?

"some friends do."

the aloofness and the attitude; it's all like he's rehearsed this exact conversation before. or maybe... maybe you're not the first one to ask him such a thing, but you have to mentally shut that thought out.

you're quiet and you're thinking--thinking of so many things. your hands are clasped together in your lap and your eyes has dropped to his knees as if they're the most fascinating thing at the moment.

he swallows down and is the one to break the silence.

"but, if you don't want to be friends, that's fine as well."

your head snaps up immediately at that and you look almost scared, terrified of the possibility of not being able to see or be with him again.

he takes one of your hand into his while the other one strokes over the skin of your cheek with care before placing a kiss on your forehead; his touch such a contrast to the harshness leaving his mouth.

"you don't have to give me an answer now. but, when you make up your mind, call me or something. either way, i'm not going to be mad or upset."

he smiles and finally lets go of your hand and of everything else that he has connected to you.

one minute it's like you're so close and the next, he's slipping away from your grasp and everything else around you is growing dimmer; darker.

"you should go. keep the clothes."

and like every other times, you always do. but you can't help but think if you had not asked him that question; not let the eagerness and curiosity get to you, maybe he might've let you stayed longer.

you lay awake in your bed, the room a little dark but that's the least of your worries.

granted, with yuna being your roommate and all her decorations and paintings being shoved in your face, you would think you'd be familiar with them by now. but you haven't really spent much time breaking down her choices and the stories behind them--with art not really your type of thing.

but with the former anxiety that has crawled into your system again, your body tense and racing with nothing to do, your mind latches onto any kind of distractions--even if short term.

yuna has exactly three paintings that she has hanging. she wanted more at first but opted only for those she thought showed off her skill the best; limited by space and an intense dislike for clutters.

the lotus from before is situated in the middle and the other two yields similar color stories--of soft and pastel pink with dashes of blue here and there.

you're absolutely clueless about art, but it does give you an idea of what yuna likes and how much the style fits her personality if you know her personally.

the one on the left is more abstract, the pink and blue really sticking out in the pattern she painted them in. while the one on the far right looks like an actual drawing before plastering all the strokes over it.

it's of a princess and a prince, standing in front of a blurred castle staring into each other's eyes and you can only assume they're deeply in love--at least judging by the long black curves yuna had drawn on her and his mouth that depicts them smiling.

or maybe they're not in love, that's possible, too. after all, it's yuna's art, not yours. but you do wonder what exactly yuna had in mind when she made it.

because everything and everyone has a story; san, too.

and now... you're just overthinking things.

so you close your eyes and let the exhaustion from today consume you, drifting off to sleep where the mind can relax and all the weight of the world disappears temporarily.

~

you're sitting on your knees, everything dark around you except for the only source of light being a light bulb that hangs above your head.

whether you're in a room or not, you can't tell. but it looks like the darkness stretches out beyond; like if you keep walking, it'll go on forever.

then your eyes drop to your lap--your hands palming them and you're taken aback because your fingers... they're a lot smaller; and you catch the jeans you're wearing, then the light blue cardigan that you haven't seen in so long--it was an outfit you often wore back in grade school.

suddenly, you hear a voice. a loud voice; a female voice. she's angry and her words hold so much passionate hatred in them, a switch in your brain goes off because there's only one person who you recognize in this tone: your mother.

after she speaks, a new, different one comes in just as loud as hers, but he's frustrated; defeated. it's your father.

you can't make out what they're saying anymore because their voices merge together to create a concotion that makes the hair on your skin rise, producing a vibration that is felt through your whole body at the vile nature of it all--

your eyes snap open, beads of sweat forming on your forehead as you attempt to catch your breath.

when you shoot up to read the time by the nightstand, it's the awful revelation that only an hour has gone by, still seven in the evening but yet, it felt so much longer.

the image of what you just dreamt creeps up and you have to squeeze the headache away.

it's been so long... or at least a good while that you had one of those dreams; nightmares if you can call it that.

not the kind that's usually plastered on covers with monsters crawling from under beds or having been body swapped with a bee. but the ones that serves as a reminder of how much of a burden your existence is--to your parents, to your aunt and uncle, and to all those around you.

“have you ever had intrusive thoughts that keeps you awake at night? or things that just, no matter how hard you try pushing to the back of your mind, you can’t seem to get rid of?”

was it that you really couldn't think of anything, or were you just hoping that if you put a band-aid as a solution to the problem; move to a new town and leave everything behind, it will go away on its own?

entry #5

i had one of those dreams again... at least a good portion of my senior year leading up to me moving to seoul had been okay... probably because i had some kind of hope to cling onto--that being a new beginning and all. i used to get them a lot, shortly after moving with my aunt and uncle, and even they started appearing in them, too, along with junseo after he broke up with me. i'm still not 100% what causes them, but i do notice a pattern that it usually occurs when i'm in great distress and my mind whirls into the deeper end. i think i'm overstressing myself too much regarding san...

you do everything in your power for the next couple of days to keep your mind occupied so it doesn't think of san--doesn't think of junseo's words because if you linger on it long enough, you just might believe it.

that you really are undeserving of being loved, and all the pains you've suffered were brought upon by your own lack of competence.

you have to really not think; just keep your mind running with a backlog of things to do.

mingi and yunho are suspicious at first of the sudden high volume of requests to hang out but don't think too much of it, just glad that you're going to places that aren't the cafe or library.

yuna also started staying in more, telling you the gatherings and hangouts are getting stale and causing her to have a burnout so she needed a break.

she is a ton of fun to be with and always has an idea in back up of a first idea.

"a date?" you repeat to make sure, your voice turning high.

she nods, at the same time painting over the nail on your ring finger with the chosen yellow shade.

"so, will you do it?"

when she first brought up the idea of doing your nails, you didn't think it'd come with a request as well--her having scored a double date with a cute guy at one of the gatherings with the only problem being she doesn't have anyone else to bring along.

you shift in your spot with hesitation, her silk sheet under brushing against your skin.

"i'm not sure."

she drags another stroke over your pinky before looking up to stare at you.

"his friend might be cute!" the way her eyes go wide is kind of endearing.

you release a quiet giggle, her face at first as equally amused until something seems to click in her head and her eyes go even wider.

"oh! or do you already have someone else? that guy, san, right?" she tilts her head, asking with genuine curiosity. she just didn't expect for the smile on you to falter so quick, she draws back immediately.

even if she doesn't know what you're going through, your reaction is already quite telling.

"sorry..." she mouths.

you shake your head, and throw on another smile though less sincere this time.

"no need to be," you tell her. "i was just wondering if i go on this date, am i going to have to wear something fancy?"

"nope! but if you want to, you can."

"even if it's not anything demanding like that, i don't even think i have a proper attire for the occasion."

she quirks her lips to the side and hums before it looks like she has already found a solution. it's that knowing look in her eyes you think you're starting to get good at picking up.

"you can borrow some of mine!" she says with some kind of excitement that has her flickering the tip of the brush up that you won't be surprise if you find specks of yellow on the wall.

but at her comment, you have to really take in her build and stature, eyeing her up and down. you're not sure if that's going to be possible given she's at least an entire size smaller than you.

"i'll have to think about it," you tell her with a nervous smile.

she lowly breathes out a sigh of defeat.

"okay fine, that works, too. it won't be for another week, so take the time to charge and then let me know."

you'll admit it doesn't sound too bad after some careful considerations. you need all the distractions you can get and this just might be perfect.

you'll be too busy thinking about this 'date' and getting the perfect hair and outfit and how to make a good first impression that san won't even cross your mind at all.

won't even think of what he's doing or why he didn't tell you sooner--what the relationship between you two really is, and why he dragged it out for this long.

yeosang talks to you again and he's going on about setting up a place and time to meet since the second exam is around the corner. and you're thinking it can't be more perfect.

you will have the stress of exams and your professors weighing you down, you won't even have the time to dwell on san even for a bit.

you accept every invitation from mingi and yunho to hang out, whether at the arcade across the street, the rundown movie theater in the shady parts of town, or mingi's and wooyoung's dorm.

you'll also act like the thoughts of wooyoung, being in the proximity of his belongings when in their room doesn't remind you of a friend of his.

but when the night falls and you close your eyes, junseo's words will ring in your head, and despite also hearing your friends' protests in the background where they already debunked everything he had to say about you, you can't help but to think it holds some truth.

that there is definitely something wrong with you and no one would ever take you seriously. your friends told you he's wrong, and you want to believe he is. but even san doesn't want you like that.

no amount of arcade games, dressups, or endless brainrot studying can cure your insecurities and the need to seek out something new but familiar to fill in the void.

because you do want to be loved. not out of pity or out of concerns for your well being in the friendly nature mingi, yunho, and everyone else around you is guilty of. but something more than that.

when your lips call for a kiss, when your ears yearn for whispered sweet words even if they're web of lies, and when the ache between your legs cannot be easily solved with your unskilled fingers, you find yourself at san's doorstep.

because though he may not want you like that, he doesn't treat you like complete shit. he's nice enough and even pretends to care at times.

after all, he did helped you find a job and if it wasn't for him, you would've gotten trampled at the first ever party attended.

the crisped weather has dwindled and the waves of heat are starting to pick up as the month of may settles in, the warmth pricking your skin when standing in front of san's door at eleven in the night time.

when he finally opens, it's how you immediately relax at the sight, him just standing in a t-shirt and shorts, hair damped and a couple strands falling over his eyes.

it's pathetic how safe and homey he makes you feel; how your stomach relieves at just seeing him again.

he looks surprised to see you, of course he is. who else would be knocking on his door this late? maybe only a girl so deprived of love, she will take even the crumbs he give her.

"hey?" he utters, uncertainty in his delivery with one hand still gripping on the handle. but his voice. it's so soft and you haven't heard it in so long.

"m-may i come in?" you ask, for a moment about to draw back and wonder if you're coming off too desperate. but you came crawling all the way to him at this time, so in probability, it can't get much worse.

he nods and lets you in, your eyes wandering the interior that's also familiar.

and san could act like he cares about the proper etiquette of welcoming a guest (in your case an affiliate turned stranger); maybe even get them a glass of water or usher that they can sit anywhere they like, but he isn't one to beat around the bush, especially not on this subject... well, or at least after he's made it clear what the deal between them really is.

"i'm guessing you finally made a choice?" he speaks from behind, slamming the door shut. and judging by your arrival, that can only mean the one choice you decided on.

you turn to him, a shy color on your expression that he won't admit he misses a little as well.

"when you said friends," you mumble, feet naturally striving toward him as if he's a gravitational pull. "d-did you mean we can still..." your mouth tightens itself, unable to deliver the word feeling a blush creep to your cheeks.

you already fucked him so why the hell are you still acting like a damn prude.

a melodic giggle leaves him, him taking steps to close the remaining space until he's so close, you can hear his heartbeats.

fortunately, he knows you... a little too much for your own good.

"yes," he continues where you left off, lips drawing into a smile that brings out those dimples you like so much. you missed them, too.

"whenever you need me, beautiful," he whispers, one hand caressing the side of your face as he strokes with gentle brushes. "i'll be there, to take care of your needs and to make you feel good."

but that's it. that's as much as he can do for you.

"are you fine with that?" he awaits your answer, eyes boring into yours and there's something so scary about the way you're looking at him; something so unsettling about there being no signs of hatred or anger which he might have preferred to being stared at as if he's the most illuminating thing you've ever laid your eyes on.

you nod, a building sensation creeping up that tells you're going to regret it, but you want san. you want him so bad.

so so bad that when he finally kisses you again, you'll act like there's a genuine motive behind how his flesh moves against yours, and when he throws you on the bed, inching to your ear to whisper those sweet words you want to hear, you'll act like it's not a complete lie; that he's not just saying them in the heat of the moment.

when he slides inside of you, you'll pretend it's not just pure, filthy fucking. nothing to dissect behind his movements or the way he's hitting that spot so perfectly.

you close your eyes to indulge in the feeling, and in his temporary words and actions that indicates you guys are something.

after you both cum and he's still laying on top of you trying to catch his breath, he lifts himself slightly to take in your features, suddenly bringing one thumb over to your lips.

"we can stay like this, right? just like this, me and you."

you'll also act like his words doesn't stand as a reminder of reality; of what this between you and him really is.

but when you get out of bed to look for the rest of your clothes, everything starts sinking in like a gnawing pain that runs through your entire body. regrets, sorrow, misery--you don't know which is winning right now.

san doesn't get to tell you to leave, because you're the one who offers. he'll pretend to be taken aback like you don't have to go right now, but you know he's relieved he doesn't have to be the one to say it.

when you get back to the dorm, you feel like absolute shit; like a shadow of the person you barely were, but still, you know that in a couple of days or maybe even sooner, you will go back to him.

and you will wallow in his web of lies and false affirmations just to feel wanted for that very brief moment, only to wind up in the same position you're currently in. you will.

next // series m.list

taglist: @sorryimananti-romantic @revehosh @cookiechristie @avantalem @atiny68 @belletiny @shibera @mochibabycakes @justineasian @eastleighsblog @baguette-atiny @crimson-mia @yeosxxx @m4rsluv @sleepychimm @atz-diary @diorwoo @naiify @becauseiloveyunho @damagelove @softie00 @s-nsanshine @atinytinaa @moonseonghwa @lemontreefantasy @wooyoung4eva @yeosangsbiceps @likexaxdaydream @knucklesdeepmingi

#ateez angst #san x reader #choi san angst #choi san x reader #ateez series #san smut #san angst #fic: broken

[flowering-thought]

Omg omg omg your Daisuke nsfw headcanons were everything I wanted and MORE!!! THANK YOU!!! If it's okay to submit another ask so soon after the last one, but could we get some HC of Daisuke with a girl with some extra padding? Aka plus sized

ALSO IM STEALING THE NAME SWEET ANON ITS MINE NOW

Aww I'd love to! We chubby babes gotta have that literature to include our pretty figures <3 Anyway sweet Anon if you want an emoji or a name feel free to take them and I'll start a list of my lovely anons with you there as the first one <3

I keep forgetting to link the picrew </3

Not edited

WARNING - MINORS DNI

Reader is AFAB and described with feminine words and also is chubby/plus sized

Yandere themes, implied murder,

⋆｡˚. ੈ ⋆｡˚. ੈ ⋆｡˚. ੈ ⋆｡˚. ੈ ⋆｡˚. ੈ ⋆｡˚.

Daisuke Kawahara

Headcannons w/ Chubby Reader

• Honestly? Daisuke doesn't care much about looks. All he worries about is your physical and mental health. And if you're happy then he's happy!

• But something about the clothes you wear that show just that right amount of curve makes him shiver at the thought of holding you.

• And cuddling with this man has honestly got to be the best thing-

• He loved holding you and cuddling with you. He understands that you may or may not be self conscious so he's careful on where he squeezes you with his hands. But boy does he love squeezing your hips.

• And he loves going shopping! He gives an honest opinion and always says something positive! And he doesn't mind if you like to dress masculine or feminine since he just loves to see you try things on ♡

• Sadly Japanese society can be pretty harsh on certain things. Same with some other Asian cultures who's focus is similar. But he doesn't let any of that bother him and glares at people to keep their mouths shut.

• And if someone does say something straight to you? Their going on a list to give to his little brother. Daisuke has his ways of getting rid of others that bother him.

• But one day, when you were having a rough day and ended up coming to his place crying, and he found out that some guys from your college class were making rude comments? I don't think you'll ever see him that angry often.

• Let's just say those boys moved away hm?

• After all its not like you know about the basement under his bar. And you won't ever need to because he's careful about what he let's you see.

• As for if you're ever just having a rough day where you don't love yourself as much as other days Daisuke will drop what he's doing to just come wrap you up in a blanket and watch some ghibli movies.

• Even if it's not self love issues and just plain mental health bringing you down he'll still drop everything to make sure you're okay.

• And no matter what, he supports you! Just so long as you're not breaking up with him or leaving him in any way.

• Also Daisuke will always try to make a good impression on your parents and friends. He needs them to approve of you staying in Japan with him after all!

• But if your family and friends are toxic let's just say digging up some blackmail on them with the help of his family is enough to fix those problems-

• And Daisuke will always make sure that you're eating good! While he can't cook for shit he does make sure you're able to buy food and stuff you need on a college student schedule.

• And if you feel uncomfortable qith him buying you stuff he does it in a roundabout way. He'll mention that he has too much or bought bulk of something by accident. Or he'll ask to come over to your dorm and come with groceries cause he wanted you to cook something for him since you know about his inability to cook. And if there's extra groceries he'll chop it up to being an accident-

• He also hates if you skip meals. How are you supossed to maintain your beautiful figure if you aren't eating right?

• Also can and will help you find stores that carry your sizes. He's good at looking for the right places and even goes beforehand to a shop without you just to make sure it's a good shop with an atmosphere you'll like.

• He's a big stalker so he works very hard to figure out your likes and dislikes. He wants to make sure you're always happy ♡

• He knows it's probably difficult being in a different country and getting used to the culture there, but he'll just make sure that you have the best time!

You need to like it there so you can stay with him forever after all.

#soft yandere #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #chubby reader #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere hcs #yandere male #.daisuke_kawahara_♡

[sixosix]

To approach ask length and my apologies… lkfhdh you created this monster and now you gotta deal with the consequences of your actions.

i wanted to keep this separate as a more focused thing as opposed to my other rambles. But as to how i think the potion stuff goes down…

Rosalie: no, unless T!Reader desperately wants her to.

T!Reader: Depending on how the interaction with father goes/any interferance, yes.

Rosalie I don’t see drinking it unless T!Reader wants her to, because I’d think she’d want to remember someone she considers her daughter, even if T!Reader doesn’t stay by her side. I’d think she would still cherish those memories and want to hold onto them, kinda like a parent looking back on memories rasing their kid when their kid is now living their own life and creating their own family. But I do think that if T!Reader does push hard enough, that she would drink the potion as to not put her child in distress in what could potentially be their final moments together.

As for T!Reader… something i’ve noticed but never really said rambling wise is that both her and lyney have that same intate urge to do anything for their family and loved ones. And right now, from T!Readers point of view, her only loved one (and family) is Rosalie. If she gets promised/convinced that Rosalie will be safe and left alone by the Fauti if she drinks the potion, I bet she would. Even if she no longer remembers her maman or the positive memories she has of the fauti, as long as Rosalie was safe I doubt she would care.

As for if she actually gets the chance to drink it or not… i’m honestly torn. On one hand, there is the chance that the trio + aether and paimon get their in time to stop her from drinking it and find another way. Which would be very cool and neat… But the potion is already the nice way out, as the hearth’s rule is with their life is the cost. 

Theres not really any nicer way to go around the hearth’s core rules, especially with the distraction t!reader is and the persistence lyney has. I’m sure Arlecchino knows that although her orders to leave t!reader alone may put lyney on a pause, it won’t last forever. I mean, the guy went straight to T!readers house with lynette’s help once their meeting with father was done. And although I haven’t done the story quest yet, I know enough to know that even with the traveler helping, they wouldn’t win unless father specifically let them. 

Plus, (and i had to go digging to find the exact words once i remembered it) i remembered something you said in one of my very first asks. Specifically art naosaki’s quote, "Reader needs to learn how to stay, and Lyney needs to learn how to let go". I can see the reader’s form of staying being finally confronting her past and taking the deal not for herself but for everyone else, while lyney’s form of letting go is letting go of the mc from before the potion. A bit more bittersweet, and again, i’m torn over it, but its just my thoughts! 

Also, I sent this at the same time as the fic since my theory influenced it a fair bit… so ye, back to the pit i go-

-deadman aether anon

- HI DEADMAN AETHER ANON u sent the fic first but i wanted to answer this one cus i got excited and wanted to treasure it…

- im very glad u got rosalie figured out tho!!! despite all the suspicion she received by everyone in the beginning, at the end of the day, she really just cares about mc and will always put her first! AND MC TOO!!!! top tier character analyzation 🙏🔥🔥

- I LIKE HOW U HAD TO SEARCH FOR THE QUOTE 😭😭😭 your interpretation of the quote deserves praise for fitting in the plot of the way things are going right now but i dont want to say anything in case i end up confirming or denying it HHAHA

- still, such a thoughtful and fun little read from you once again 😭🫶🫶 i have so much fun listening (reading???) your thoughts but now i got a wholeass fic from you as well?? oh i am so blessed truly U ARE A BLESSING TO MY ACC

#606:inbox #606: deadmanaether anon

[josephtrohman]

sorry if you’ve been asked this before, would you be willing to spare some joetrick fic recs? i’m getting super back into them and the bandom so wanted to jump back in with some recs maybe!! (do you still prefer top joe? do you have any toppy patrick? if thats not your bag i don’t mind i’ll honesty take anything you think is well written atp 😁 ty!!!)

i’m sorry it’s taken me a couple days to answer this anon!!! finals got me both tweaking and sleep deprived at the same time somehow. also tho let it be known there is nothing to be sorry for at allllll omg, and there Never is, imagine my inbox as a safe warm place where i’m always here for ANYTHING. anyways, i have answered some joetrick fic recs earlier, here is the link to that post which has my crème de la crème joetrick fics, but i always have more in my back pocket!!! start with that other post’s list tho first for sure!!!! just bc they are THEE BEST. ok gonna put the rest under a break here (including my answers to ur question LOLL) :3

i truthfully have mellowed out when it comes to top/bottom preferences lol (i wonder if ur an og follower and saw my ask from like 2016 that i may have answered more intensely about preferring top joe and oh god the 'bottom patrick network' i was in way back when networks were a thing HDKDJDKDJSJ). i actually really enjoy top patrick/bottom joe in this day and age but there is like. none still. so i dont have much to offer u 💔 but im working on something and so is a fobtwt friend of mine so keep ur eyes peeled!!!

i combed my archive and found u my (very) slim pickings for toppy patrick. which imo is a disgrace and i Have contributed to this pattern of mostly bottom patrick w my fics BUT i hope to change this fact as i have a wip that’s just pwp top patrick/bottom joe maybe coming in the next several months LOLLLL (also my fobtwt friend as i mentioned). but i’ll start with the closest things i can find. i’m gonna break it down with the kind of adjacent to ur request fics First and then give a few more recs after :)

an exploration of the bounds of venus by disloyalorder. this might be the only top patrick pure joetrick smut on ao3 (that i found well-written enough to save at least <3). it’s got a heavy dose of mommy kink/mommy dom stuff so i guess if that’s not ur thing then u really will have to stay tuned for my fic ;) haha

wasted summer by terriblewritings. shoutout to the author for dropping it in my inbox!!! it has the mommy kink too and a liiiiiiittle talk of weight just in an appreciative way idk but a warning; it’s toppy patrick in the sense of dom patrick bc there’s no penetration, but it’s rly good!!! author says there might be more coming too ;3

token by gigantic. this one i found on total accident, i had been digging around on this user’s livejournal because they have two PHENOMENAL wentzman fics up (if u want those recs too lmk) but basically this one is joe on a gay sex mission lol, it is explicit but ofc when u get to the goods (aka the JOETRICK SCENE) it's all fade-to-black instead 💔 but still SOOOOO good so unbelievably well written!!!

i had it listed it in the other rec ask, but bdsm by heyginger has a brief mention of joe riding patrick (not explicit smut tho lol) AND of patrick tying joe up so it feels on the toppy patrick side for sure :)

also for good measure, though patrick is not toppy to JOE in these ones, there are two jeterick fics that feature patrick topping pete while joe does stuff to them etc just maybe to scratch a similar itch? lay your head down -- and feel the beat and two's company, three's just right both by likeasugarcube.

begging all ao3 writers to PLEASEEE write more top patrick/bottom joe joetrick fics i want to read joe get fucked like he deserves <3 ok anyways

and now here r some general recs that aren’t toppy patrick related :)

my tongue is my choir by coricomille. patrick is mute (mixon is their vocalist) and it’s a wonderfully written, very sweet fic!!!

capture the phrases by rosiedoes fic. patrick has a secret admirer in the form of anonymous post it notes. so good<3

expensive mistakes by rosiedoesfic. cute little fic about the insta posts in mania era that had very joetricky captions :')

the cure to growing older by rosiedoesfic. a au fic where joe and patrick have been friends since they were little kids, a very cute growing up together type story :)

message in a bottle by bunnytrohman. a sweet lil getting together fic sent during 2ourdust. saur beautiful and the world needs more fics set in the stardust era imo!!!

take a breath (i know what's behind that door) by thesecondshow. joe checks in on/takes care of patrick right after the we liked you better fat post. really really beautifully written <3 (hai mitch if u see this)

your secret's out by the_seventh_avenger. cute lil fic, honestly hard to summarize with a lil blurb without giving everything away but love it so much!!

alpha dog by bunnytrohman. puppy play joetrick. i needn’t say more READ THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

leaving it there bc looking at my bookmark list there aren't like a TON more that i even really could rec so i'll save those for if someone else asks in another 10 months <3 lol love u anon my inbox (and dms!!! if u wanna reveal urself but no pressure) is always open to discuss these fics or ANYTHING too 💖

#anonymous #asks #fic recs

[rachi-roo]

Your writing is so cute 💕 How about a fic with Ler Kurogiri and Lee Shigaraki ❤️ like Tomura is pouting about something and just being an overall brat and Kurogiri steps in and puts him in his place. This fandom is so starved for wholesome Shiggy content it’s insane.

------------{ ☆°•○•°☆ }------------

My Hero Academia: Sulk no More.

ANON IM SO SORRY!!! This one got buried so fast I missed it 😭 I'm not very confident with writing Tomura yet, but I felt I had to try after missing your ask! I hope this is somewhat what you were after!

Summary: Tomura hasn't left his room all day, so it's up to father-like Kurogiri to sort the grump out!

Tw: None

Lee!Tomura, Ler!Kurogiri

------------{ ☆°•○•°☆ }------------

"Has anyone seen Shigaraki today? He never showed up for lunch." The resident father figure of the League of Villains, Kurogiri, asked as he peered into the lounge where the rest of the gang were relaxing together.

Spinner looked over his shoulder at the smoggy man, shaking his head. "I went to check on him earlier, but he just told me to go away. Figured it might just be one of those days for him so I let him be."

Kurogiri sighed. These days were becoming far too frequent. It was bad for Tomura's health to spend so much time moping in the dark. "Right. Thank you, Spinner." With that, Kurogiri headed to the dry boys room, knocking on the door a few times.

"Go away..." A husk voice answered. He wasn't even going to find out who it was knocking.

"Shigaraki, it's me. May I come in?"

"You deaf? I said go away."

The rude comment made Kurogiri's temper fluctuate slightly, but he took a deep breath, managing to calm himself. There's no use in getting rowdy with him, it would only make things worse. "I'm coming in, make sure you're covered."

Carefully, he pushed the door open, seeing nothing but darkness and the faint silhouette of Tomuras bed frame, a bundle of blankets upon the mattress. About Shigaraki sized.

"Shigaraki, please come and eat something. You'll get sick otherwise." He coaxed, switching the light on, earning a grumpy hiss from the boy as he pulled his duvet over his head.

"Not hungry." On que, his stomach growled.

Kurogiri gave an amused chuckle, sitting on the edge of the bed, and placing a reassuring hand on the pile of duvet. "Why don't you tell me what's bothering you? Maybe I can-"

"I said no! Geez, you're so clingy. Just go away already."

Once again, Kurogiri's blood raced. Why did he have to put up with Tomura's childish behavior and rude comments whenever he's in a mood? He shouldn't have to put up with it. "You know what, Tomura? I've had enough of this. We all have bad days, I know, but you don't have to be so cold towards us."

"Uuuuh!" Tomura let out a loud huff, tossing his quilt back. He was wearing his pyjama trousers and a big hoodie, along with his special three fingered-gloves. "I just don't want to hear anyone's voice right now. Okay? I don't know why. And I don't care either. So just piss off!" He glared at Kurogiri, hoping that was enough to make him leave.

"Tomura... I have had it!" The smoke exclaimed. "I'm sick of you talking down on me like this! You need to remember your place." He grabbed Shigarakis waist, suddenly, spidering his fingers up and down his skinny frame.

"Urk! K-Kurogihihiri! Get off!" The boy tried to remain tough, gritting his teeth as he attempted to fight off his friend's attack. "Cut it out!"

"Apologise for speaking to us in such a way, and I'll consider stopping." Kurogiri smiled, he never really intended to harm the boy. He knew scolding him normally wouldn't fix anything.

The skittering fingers shifted upwards, digging into Shigaraki's underarms. "AH! No-!" He bit his lip as his arms slammed to his sides, holding his breath. He wasn't going to break easily. This only made Kurogiri more determined.

"Oh, so we're playing the waiting game are we?"

"Mhm!" Shigaraki shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut and curling in on himself.

"Very well. Let's try this." Kurogiri retracted a hand, quickly squeezing just above Tomuras knee making him jerk away and let out a flurry of giggling.

"Hehey! Don't- Ahahaha!" The tickling attack continued once his defences were opened up, with Kurogiri switching between squeezing his hips and knees.

"Stahahap! Stop ihit! I-I mehehean it! Kurogiriii!" His hands grappled with his attackers, not sure which tickled more or which to stop.

"Heh, still very sensitive aren't we?" Kurogiri teased, looking at Tomura's scrunched expression as he laughed freely. "Hehe, tickle, tickle, tickle~ I remember you always liked when I tease you." He chuckled, watching the villain's cheeks and ears heat up to a rosey pink.

"Shuhut up! D-Don't say th-AH!" Whilst he was distracted by the tickling, Kurogiri quickly swiped up Shigaraki's wrists, pushing him onto his back and pinning his arms over his head. "Woah! Hey! Nonono! Kurogiri I'm not kidding- Ah! Don't you dare!"

"Here we go, now, are you going to come and eat?" Kurogiri asked, straddling the boy's waist, wriggling fingers poised to attack.

"No! I'm not hungr-IHIHI! NOOO! AHAHAHA!" Tomura cried out as Kurogiri attacked his worst spot, scribbling and poking at his now vulnerable underarms. He arched his back, kicking his legs wildly.

"Stahahap! Damn ihihit! You f-AHAHA! Get OHOFF! GAHAHAAAA!"

"What do you want for dinner? Hmm?"

"I-I dohon't AHAHA! PLEHEHEASE! *snort* aaaAAAHAHA!"

Kurogiri paused, shocked by the sound. His eyes smiled. "Well that was amusing."

"Plehease, no more- GAHA! No!" His head flung backwards, burying into his pillow as Kurogiri attacked again, clawing at his belly.

"Go on, one more snort and we're finished."

"I-I cahan't control it! Ehehe! That's nohot fahahir!"

He was so embarrassed by this weakness of his. He'd never hear the end of it if the rest of the group found out.

"ALRIGHT! Okahahay! Stahap! Plehe- *snort* Oh shihihit!"

And just like that, the tickling hands retreated and Kurogiri removed himself from Tomuras lap, sitting beside him instead. "Feeling better now?"

Shigaraki reluctantly gave a nod, not daring to look at him in fear of looking silly. "Guess I am hungry now..."

Kurogiri chuckled, petting his boy's head. "Alright. Come to the kitchen whenever you're ready. I'll whip up something good."

#bnha #mha #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #lee!Shigaraki #ler!kurogiri #sfw tickles #sfw tickling community #rachi roo

[slowdesire]

omg actually keen to hear ur yellowface thoughts once uve synthesised them... im a chronic rf kuang hater but i also do read her books every time so i would love to know what u thoughtttt

hello omg thank you for asking about this, i would love to know your thoughts too actually!

so it's been a day, i was able to sleep on it... this won't be the most serious review ever but i'll freely share both what i've been mulling over and my thoughts as i type. i think the book is good enough for what i personally thought it would be, which is a silly off-kilter story with a very compelling premise. the bare minimum i initially knew, which is that some white girl stole her dead asian-american friend's work, was enough to intrigue me. what i didn't understand was the hype around how "insane" it is on tiktok (which i will readily admit is where i found out about the book's existence) and i had my hesitations to hold it to that standard. turns out i was right to be hesitant. there was room for so much more. like i understand the pov and insights are deliberately limited and unreliable bc of the main character herself, but here's one example: when juniper made a remark on athena not knowing what it's like to be poor, i expected those thoughts to play a larger role in the story or go a bit deeper, but they were left as few among the many bits and pieces of surface level commentary and somewhat valid criticism against athena and it kind of got lost in the mix. this is such a shame especially because it's clear juniper is big on her own family's dynamics and financial situation, so it could've been such a great comparison point (?) for her to really dig into when it came to her resentment against athena.

i feel like that was the biggest missed opportunity in my eyes because when i read the author bio at the end of the book, i was surprised to find that rf kuang herself is from yale. i didn't know who she was before reading the book, this is my introduction to her and i went in completely blind. knowing a bit of her background now honestly leaves a sour taste in my mouth because this time the story feels too self-referential the way some taylor swift songs can be (and i enjoy tswift btw lol). but i don't know for sure since i still haven't looked into her that much. this is why i would LOVE to know why you're a hater bc i feel we'd have similar reasons

also the buildup to the ending and the ending itself were both so underwhelming that it dampened some of the fun i had in earlier parts of the story. like i was enjoying this white woman going kind of crazy but kuang's stab at the uncanny fell so flat i literally could not stop just thinking about perfect blue 1997 and how i did not pick up the same suspense here. not that they have to be the same at all, i just live like this. also in line with this so much of the book feels chronically online. at first i appreciated how online spaces were so heavily embedded in the story but by the halfway point i was like, um.... i thought this was a satire on the publishing industry, not glimpses of publishing interspersed between losing ur mind over twitter and goodreads LOL.

for now this is all i have to say. fun book! i can tell rf kuang is skilled in her own right. i enjoyed the pacing and the writing style, it was such an easy read and there's nothing wrong with that. nothing i want to take too seriously or sink my teeth too deeply into. people on booktok praise yellowface way too highly that's 10000% for sure

#ans #hope its ok i answer ur ask publicly! let me know if i should take this down lol #but i REALLY want to know why youre a hater bc i truly dont know anything about this author at the moment

[the-ark-awaits]

Hello all you may remember me from such bangers as 'show me the proxies in marble hornets' and 'and another thing'

oday um here to talk about how we've fucking regressed as a fandom since creepypasta and marble hornets on ao3 got. presumably merged as a fandom tags bc sorting for exclude crossovers still shows creepypasta fic. in fact doing that just now to confirm this, the very first fic on the list was creepypasta.

so obviously this is a huge pain in the ass for anyone who wants marble hornets fanfic and only marble hornets fanfic. you cant even remove creepypasta fics with exclude crossover, youd have to do it manually with filtering options not everyone knows how to use. and we shouldnt have to yknow? you should be able to go in your fandom tag on ao3 and find only that fandom and crossovers (which should be easily filtered out by exclude crossovers) same as here on tumblr crosstagging is a huge issue but the worst part of it is that the continuous crosstagging in recent years has caused the fandom tags to be merged (not fully as shown by the fact that the numbers for amount of fic in each tag is different) but enough that they're considered the same universe by ao3 which is. blatantly untrue.

creepypasta is a catchall term for internet short stories made by a community, marble hornets is one single webseries online. fuck the creepypasta fandom wouldnt be what it is without huge swaths of shit stolen from marble hornets (like yknow, the pages, the operator symbol, masky and hoodie) but that doesnt mean they are marble hornets fans that doesnt mean theyre making marble hornets content. that would be like saying that since fnaf and batim are kinda similar and the fans have an overlap that means theyre the same and should be tagged the same. they arent, and shouldnt be yknow?

also apologies this isnt the best post im kinda fried rn and im stuck on mobile

that not withstanding its fucking depressing. this did not used to be an issue. thr only fics tagged with both were generally easy to ignore or a real honest to god crossover, but now i swear you look at the mh tag on ao3 and the majority of the recent fics are crosstagged crp fics with giant tag lists that tack up the whole page and tag anyone who is so much as mentioned

and maybe this is a step too far here. but i really think this is bc of tiktok. the people crosstagging posts and fics seem to be the same type to complain avout the 'ao3/tumblr algorithm' not favoring them. but there is no algorithm, just annoyed fans who have to dig for their actual content because people dont have common decency anymore. theres an etiquette you need to follow for shit like this. like how would you feel if like. i dunno. fucking... genshin (just an example of a large fandom or whatever made a character cameo out of like jeff the killer and suddenly all the crp tags were filled with genshin posts not even related to or barely mentioning the character, just ti try and get more clicks?

youd be pretty fucking annoyed having to scroll past all that to find actual creepypasta content huh?

thats the same issue happening here, and honestly i think its a huge issue. for obvious reasons but also bc its so much harder to find mh content now that im sure its incredibly disheartening to be a creator in the fandom rn and foe the past few years. you work and make content for your rather small fandom and its buried under barely related shit, its gonna feel bad yknow? especially when that content gets more clicks bc. frankly theres more creepypasta fans than mh fans just bc of what creepypasta is format wise. its collectively made shortstories. you can like one or two and bc a crp fan, its not like that for mh

this is going kinda off my starting topic but anyways if theres any ao3 tag wrangles following me or who see this.

please for the love of god i beg of you to do anything you can to unmerge those tags i will do anything ill get receipts proving they're separate things please unmerge the tags im dying here

#marble hornets #ao3 #sorry im still reallt spacey rn cause i was high earlier today and im big adhd at the best of times #so someone with more brainpower than me rn id love some input #ill write a more coherent version lf this when im back home with my laptop after new years