#fuckin hell if i really have to go back full time we may be cutting it back to just one stream a week

[tsurugis]

i had my surgery last thursday!

he went ahead with a plan of putting me under and marking and prepping everything to do the thyroidectomy and full bilateral neck dissection, but first taking out the biggest lymph node and sending it to pathology. while they were doing that he took my whole thyroid out and based on those results he would either leave the neck dissection or continue. of course it came back malignant so he took fuckin eeeeverything out haha

woke up puking all over myself and having violent tremors and vaguely remember hearing a nurse trying to convince the other people waking up in that room that i wasn't fucking dying jfhfjgj

apparently I've had the most severe magnesium deficiency my surgeon has seen in over 30 years of practice lmaoooo and I've had it for a long time so i gotta figure out what thats all about and see a gi for probable absorption problems

my husband!!! is the sweetest!! most caring!! fucker ever!!!!!! really truly i love him so much he has supported me through this and everything so much it blows my mind anyone could ever love and care for me like this. and he has done such a consistent job of showing it that i don't panic and worry about him wanting to leave me for all this cancer crap and for the fact that now i look like a fucking toad with its head cut off and stapled back on lmaoooo

was in the hospital for two nights three days and not getting home until about midnight cause my iv spot lost its shit at the last minute and decided enough magnesium in the drip there halfway through my last bag it hurt like a biiiitch so we had to start a new iv but ultrasound guided because they had been drawing blood to test magnesium every four fucki g hours for the 2 nights and three days like even all night lolll and i was running out of good veins

anyways. got my drains out on monday which. were stuck as hell and they were really long and finally my surgeon had to come back in where the nurses were like wheh its stucck he just grabbed and braced himself and just jerked them out violently no hesitation on both sides i am so goddamn traumatized lolllllll holy shit it gave hard rip the skin borrowing parasite horror creature out of your throat before in goes deep vibes fukccckckkckc

staples out on the 28th and everything looks good just. huge ugly stapled ear to collar bone to ear line and worst of all the lymphedema happening under the chin and jaw is so bad still and may take 3 to 6 months to go down or it could just get. worse actually and i will probably struggle with it forever

gotta take hormone replacement every morning for the rest of my life. gotta get bloodwork done frequently for the rest of my life to monitor magnesium, calcium and vitamin d and the thyroid hormone

but i am so insanely relieved i had an incredible experienced and passionate surgeon did an impressively beautiful job avoiding damaging any of the important nerves and parathyroid glands etc so no major complications or even really minor ones as far as nerve stuff goes i am so so grateful. that could have gone way different but he did an awesome job and i also trust he more likely got it all, because pathology came back monday and the fucking cancer was all over both sides of my thyroid and in at least ten lymph nodes all over !!

i literally kept saying i hate being right when i was waking up from surgery cause i really had like just a knowing and sensing that was the case, so i was very prepared, even from the "oh honey most of these are benign don't worry about cancer" stage pfffff

so i do gotta also take the radioactive iodine pill and go through that drama to make sure we got everything but otherwise i feel the worst is probably over

#personal crap

[merianmoriarty]

Server Movie Synopsis: Bodies Bodies Bodies

*AN: Keep in mind that these synopses will contain spoilers and may not be complete, as I rarely see the entire movie while serving for it.   These synopses are just going to be fast impressions of an Alamo Drafthouse server.*

Sure, start off with heavy lesbian makeouts, why not.  Okay, pretty sure the girl with the blond braids is the hero.  Her girlfriend has an accent.  Russian?  Really attached to her mom.  Driving to.......a rich people house.  With a hurricane on the way.  Because why not.  All braid-girl’s friends are rich.  To go with Braid Girl and Russian Girl, we now have Asshole Ex, Douchey Bestie, Too Woke Girl, Too Woke Girl’s Hipster Boyfriend, Spoiled Girl, and Spoiled Girl’s Boyfriend.  Drinking, drugs, and dancing, cool, cool.  Wait, where did Spoiled Girl’s Boyfriend go?  Ah, whatever...  [ETA: He went into town to get something.]  Stupid games, yes, good!  Let’s all play live-action Among Us while drunk.  And now Douchey Bestie is feeling emasculated by Hipster Boyfriend, so he’s off to sulk, whatever.  Hipster boyfriend goes to bed, and the party starts to dissolve.  No power, no phones, bored af, let’s all split up, that’s smart.  Russian Girl alone and minding her own beeswax.  OH SHIT DOUCHEY BESTIE IS BLEEDING AT THE THROAT.

HE DEAD, BRO.  HELLA DEAD.

Dun dun duuuuuun, who dunnit?!  Where’s Hipster Boyfriend???  He must be the killer!  Let’s all surround him with knives!  Oops, he freakin out now.  Oh shit, everybody freakin out.  OH SHIT, Russian Girl not feeling this at all, kettle to the head.  Ope, still moving, better hit him again.  Cool, so there’s def no way he was just reacting in self-defense to multiple people surrounding him with knives and more than one of them literally jumping on him, he was 10000% the murderer.  Right?

Stress starting to get to people.  Two guys dead.  The only confirmed killer here is Russian Girl, we all saw it!  A shoddy internet search contradicted the things she told us!  Lock her out!  Drugs would be super smart, let’s do drugs.  OH DAMN, SPOILED GIRL DEAD NOW.  Last person who saw her alive was Braid Girl.  Russian Girl saw Asshole Ex with a gun!  Back into the house she sneaks, because these rich folks are pretty damn dumb.  Confront Asshole Ex!  Ohsnap, she do got a gun, y’all!  OHSHIT she shot Too Woke Girl!  Wow, what a fuckin’ textbook narcissist-- “*shoots TWG in full view of everyone*” “Did you just shoot me?!?!” “...no.” “You did!  You shot me!” “No I didn’t!  You made me do it!”  Aaaaaand another one bites the dust...

Chase scene!  Hide from the crazy chick with the gun!  Push her over the rail!

And then there were two (plus the boyfriend who left the house).  Did you kill Douchey Bestie?  What--no!  Did you?  What--no!  Accidentally got Spoiled Girl killed, tho--gave her drugs, and she fell down the stairs.  But Asshole Ex has sown the seeds of doubt.  Scuffle!  Outside!  Fight for the phone!  Into the pool!

Wait.  Whose phone is this?

What the fuck--is that Douchey Bestie’s phone?  His dumb ass was recording a Tiktok?  While trying to open champagne with a saber (which Hipster Boyfriend did earlier to much cooing from the girls)?  While drunk and high?  I mean, I guess somebody could be about to run into the frame and take the sword--no, he’s turned the sword toward himself, this dumb fucker--yup, there he goes, cutting his own damn throat.

Spoiled Girl’s Boyfriend is back!  And so is cell reception!  The end!

ROFL THE END WHAT

Featuring honestly way too much making out, Cocaine Is a Hell of a Drug, rich people calling each other out on their privilege, and a comedy of errors that would make Agatha Christie proud.  And yes, that’s really how it ends.  Two traumatized girls covered in mud, five dead bodies indoors, blood all over the patio glass, the guy who was gone the whole time looking at all this and saying, “...what happened?” and Russian Girl’s phone dinging a text... “I have reception.”  Much cleverer than the trailers made it seem, and I love the twist--that all of this shit happened because one dumbass was too wasted and stupid and got himself a Darwin Award.  Nice classical gothic, “hell is other people,” etc.

#server synopses #spoilers #Bodies Bodies Bodies

[minijenn]

Anyway in relation to my last post I have really bad anxiety rn so my usual tuesday night stream is of course, cancelled. Sorry. 

#im also preemptively cancelling friday's stream cause thats my birthday #yay happy birthday to jen you gotta go back to work full time in person :| #thanks i hate it #jen rambles #ill stream KH again on saturday #early again like we did last week #fuckin hell if i really have to go back full time we may be cutting it back to just one stream a week #i dont want to but idk what else i can really do :/ #no one really comes to the streams anyway idk why i bother with anything #sorry depression speaking :/

[nightfall-kachiniko]

can i make a request with aot girls + hange with a s/o who accidentally forgot about their anniversary?

LMAO YES-

AOT girls (+ Hanji) with a s/o who accidentally forgot about their anniversary

Paring: mikasa x reader, annie x reader, pieck x reader, hanji x reader

“Y/n?” She said as you were making breakfast for you two. “Yes love?” You responded back to her, flipping the eggs. “A-are uhm… are you.. mad… at me?” She questioned hesitantly. You chuckled a bit, “Honey what are you talking about? Of course I’m not mad at you why would I be!” You reassure her smiling back at your wife. “Then uh- why haven’t we talked about.. you know our plans yet..?” Mikasa asked you. “Plans?” You stopped moving around the bacon, thinking. “Wait we had plans?” You looked at her over your shoulder confused.

“Y/n.. are you serious?” Your wife looked side to side, and after realizing with a while of you staring that you had not a clue what she was talking about she finally spoke up, “Our anniversary dinner? Where would you like to go tonight?” She explained. “OUR ANNIVERSARY-?!” Almost flipping the pan over on yourself you exclaimed, “ITS TODAY?!” you looked over at her as she gave a small chuckle and crossed her arms. “Yes love, our third anniversary together, As I’m married together,” she giggled at your surprise.

“WAIT WHAT HOLD- HUH- STOP DROP ROLL- WHAT DO YOU MEAN ITS TODAY-“ A blush rose upon your face in embarrassment. “Yes love,” Mikasa jokingly rolled her eyes at you coming over to you and kissing you, cupping your cheeks in her hands while staring at your shocked and nervous face. “I SWEAR TO THE WALLS ITS NEXT WEEK-“.

“That’s funny because the walls are no longer standing,” Mikasa remarked, teasing you.

“AHSTUDB TODAYS THE 8TH THOUGH WHAT DO YOU MEAN-“

“Today’s the 15th babe,” she kissed your forehead, ruffling your hair. “Oh- my- god-“

Sunlight shined in your face. Opening your eyes, you flipped over to your other side with a groan, sleepy and still tired. “You should start getting up babe, it’s almost twelve,” You heard your wife’s voice call out to you. “Mghh…. No…” you whined, “just a few more minutes,” the blonde sat at the vanity in front of the bed, she wore a lovely black dress that was a little bit longer than her knees.

Annie swiped on some lipgloss, smacking her lips together. “What are you getting dressed up for?” You asked her. Annie swung around in her chair and gave you a ‘wtf!?’ Look. “What the hell you mean ‘what am I getting ready for?’,” She mocked.

“Well you look really fancy and nice but why are you getting all dressed up? Especially at this day and hour..” you tucked the thick covers near your face, providing you with warmth. “Y/n are you fuckin’ serious,”

“Well yeah I mean I don’t get why you’re so dressed up you only do that on important days-“

“yeah like important days, LIKE OUR ANNIVERSARY!” she shouted and threw a plush bear at you, “Did you seriously forget!?”

“OWW WHAT THE- wait- ANNIVERSARY?!” You jolted up, eyes widened looking at the blonde. “yeah the fukin’ anniversary we have every year since we’ve been married!?” Annie said crossing her arms. “How the hell could you forget!” She scolded.

“NO IT’S THE 6TH TODAY OUR ANNIVERSARY’S THE 11TH’S!”

“DUMBASS IT IS THE 11TH-“ You both just stared at each other. “Oh my Gooddddd” Annie facepalmed. “Whatever I get to decide where we are eating now since you forgot,”

“BABY IM SO SORRY I THOUGHT IT WAS THE 6TH! I LOVE YOU!” You yelled at her as she slammed the door.

Pieck had been going all week. First with the many hours of training, next planning her little cousins birthday party, then having paperwork to sign and do as a person of the nine, and then babysit Friday, and even many more responsibilities she had to do. It was already Wednesday and she was burnt out so you decided this morning to make Pieck some breakfast in bed.

All week she had worked so hard and she deserves a little break, at least for today. ‘Hmm.. I’ll make Pieck an omelet wrap and pancakes, ’ you thought.

Grabbing all the ingredients, you started first making the egg, and adding in the cheese, ham, and cut up greens to the egg mixture. You cooked the omelet just the way she likes it and wrapped it up in a tortilla wrap.

You got started on the pancakes, adding in berries of sorts and flipping them to a golden brown. The day was calm and settling, so peaceful. You poured her a cup of iced coffee from the carton and then placed it on the tray along with the omelet wrap and pancakes.

(BRO I CANT EVEN WRITE COOKING- I SUCK THAT BAD AT IT 😭😭🔫)

You carried it upstairs and placed a little knock on the door before coming in. Your wife still laid asleep in bed, sleeping with her hair all messed up in her face, and her hands to her side. She truly looked like an angel.

“Peck~” you softly called out her name, placing the tray on the bed. “Love~”

Pieck moaned, exhaustingly. You softly pet the hair out of her face before waking her up with kisses. “Wake up dear,” you giggled as she tried moving her head away from your kissing parade. Your wife finally opened her eyes and stared at you. “Good morning baby~” you smiled at her, kissing her on the forehead. “Mmm… good morning..”

“Here you go love,” you handed her the tray full of food as she sat up. She smiled and giggled a bit wiping her eyes, adjusting to the light.

“That’s a sweet anniversary gift ,” she smiled before kissing your cheek. You smiled back at her only to just realize what she said, “wait, anniversary?”

She looked at you as she was placing a bit of the pancakes in her mouth, “huh? Yeah dear our anniversary, you remembered.. right?.. that’s why you made me breakfast?” She looked a bit confused. A blush or embarrassment rose up on your face, “WAIT ITS OUR ANNIVERSARY?!” You were shocked, looking at Pieck like you’d just seen a ghost. “Uh, yeah love hehe,” she chuckled, “you forgot?”

“NO NO I DIDNT FORGET I UHM- I-“

“It’s okay love,” Pieck giggled at your sight, “I almost forgot it myself! This weeks been way to busy,” she sighed. “PIECK BABY I AM SO SORRY I SWEAR TO YOU ILL MAKE IT UP TO YOU I PROMISE-“

“Love it’s okay!” Your wife laughed, “gosh I’m just happy we made it to three years,” she said jokingly. “I’m sorry really,” your eyes turned sad, “I thought today was the ninth I didn’t know it was the thirteenth,”

“It’s alright love, you can make it up to me by helping me finish this breakfast though!”

“HELLLOOOO MY (princess/prince/Royal)!” Your partner barged into your shared room, swinging open the curtains and blinds, making light come in through. “Ugh…. Hanji..” you groaned, “get the light out of my face…” you whined. “NO WAY!” She said, rummaging through your both’s closet. They then pulled out a lovely black dress. It had a glimmered diamond belt across the waist and a diamond rose at the belt.

(If you’re a male or don’t wear this type stuff, hanji pulled out a brown blazer that matches with their own, and an elegant watch with a chain necklace to go with it, along with the black pants and a black turtle neck to go under)

“Hanji… what are you doing..” you said, irradiated by all the noise. “Wake up! We are going to have the time of our lives out in town today!” She said, “Cant we do that tommorow…” you whined.

“UH- OH HELL NO- ITS OUR ANNIVERSARY AND WE’RE GOING IN TOWN!”

“Wait what-“ you said.

“Hm? What’s wrong?” Hanji questioned. You sat up straight in bed, “IT’S TODAY!?” you grabbed your phone scrambled to see the date, “May 24th” it read. “HUH!?”

“Y/N YOU FORGOT!?”

“I THOUGHT- I-“ you stood there in silence, questioning your existence (LMAO ME)

Your partner laughed at you, “HAHAHAHAH Y/N YOUR FACE, OH MY WALLS THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER- HOW DID YOU FORGET AHHAHAHA,” The maniac laughed.

“But I-“

“HAHAHAHA ITS ALRIGHT BUBBABES WE’E JUST PARTYING TODAY,”

They cupped your cheeks that were bright red from embarrassment, looking you in the eye and smirking with a wink,

“But we’ll do more than party tonight,”

#aot #attackontitan #aot4 #ackerman #mikasa #mikasa x reader #attack on titan #mikasa aot #mikasa headcanons #shingeki no kyojin mikasa #hanji #hanji zoe x reader #hanji x reader #hange x reader #hange zoe x reader #hange x y/n #hange x you #AOT Girls #+ hange #annie #annie leonhardt headcanons #annie leonhart snk #annie x reader #annie leonhart imagine #annie leonhart x reader #annie x you #annie x y/n #Mikasa Ackerman x reader #hange headcanons

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

Never enough |Chuuya comfort x Reader

Angst and fluff time

Never enough |Chuuya comfort x Suicidal depressed Reader|

Warnings- mentions of Self-harm, heavy depression, suicide, lack of love for one's self. -I honestly wrote this as a self-comfort cause I needed something, so it really is triggering-

Word count- 1,700 words (roughly)

Life is a storm, full of calm eyes and rough winds that threaten to knock you over. Within life, there are ups and down; rough and soft moments in the storm. Tears are like rain, drizzling and pouring. There are light cries and heavy cries just like the sky. Happiness, fear, sadness, anger; emotions are weather. There are sunny days; happiness, thunderstorms; fear, rainy days; sadness, hurricanes; anger.

The clouds wept today. Wrapping around the moonlight, it hid the light. Water made heavy clinking noises against metal. The rush of cars swooshed against water as they sped by, the sound of a silent street followed. There were no voices, no couples, no people within eyesight or earshot. Today was a rainy day; a sad day. Tears fell in pattern with the falling water. Crimson dissipated within the water. Flowing down the roof the water washed it away. Clothing stuck, hair fell, eyes continued to look down.

You felt alone, afraid, disgusted, and angry with yourself and others. Your legs dangled off the edge of the roof. Listening to the music of sadness; a rainy night, you hummed. There was nobody else there with you, besides your thoughts you were alone. Though it was no surprise, it happened all the time.

People leave, people move one, people are not permanent. There is death in life; life in death. You pondered the meaning of such similes often. Running arms over your soaked clothes you choked on sobs. Letting out silent cries you shed the pain. Out of alcohol and still sober enough to feel you tossed the empty bottle to the roof entrance. It shattered to hundreds of pieces, adding sound to your cries. This isn't normal; to feel like this. You hated the things you’ve done, the job you could not back out from. You hated the way you looked. It didn’t matter what people said to you about being perfect the way you are. The small voices of people who put you down stood out. The ones that edge this crippling insecurity stuck out the most. They say the smallest flame can do more damage than the largest flame. It makes sense though, a large flame grows from the smallest flame. The large flames that start that size often take a while to do the same damage a building flame has done. Words worked like that; the smaller words that came from those close built into raging flames.

You shouted curses under your breath, looking to your lined arms, you choked back another sob. Why, why did you do these things? They were temporary freedoms from this pain but it never lasted; like drinking. Everybody needs a way to tell these feelings to fuck off, but at points, it doesn't work. Those thoughts cross the mind. The permanent solution to what they call a temporary problem. It isn’t always temporary, sure it goes at times to reveal the sun, but then it returns three-fold. It never leaves forever, they say it gets better, but sometimes it's hard to see that light at the end. Sometimes it's so far away it seems impossible to reach unless somebody else can help.

Everybody says it’s alright to be like this. Yet, they never help, they never offer up their hand to pull you out of the quicksand. They never attempt to push you forward in the tunnel. They stand, and they watch you break, until it’s suddenly benefiting for them to step in. Then, they dare to ask why you’re like this. It’s not a choice, it’s not something that can be so easily controlled. It’s a monster with its talons tearing into you.

So maybe, that’s why you did it. That’s why you inched closer and closer. Maybe that’s why you looked up and shut your eyes. Tapping fingers against the rooftop's edge. Humming tunes to try and steer your thought from doing the last resort. Just before the wrong decision could be made, you were grabbed and pulled back.

You felt so far from the world, nothing was clicking or connecting the dots. A harsh sting to your cheek brought your mind swirling back to the present. Noticing you were paying attention, the dark silhouette of a short male shouted words. “What were you thinking!” he hissed holding your shoulders with a firm grip.

“I… I don't know?” you mumbled feeling the tears swell in your eyes again.

“You don’t know? What the hell, I know we're all a little messed up but you can't…” it fell on him, his voice cutting out as he fell to his knees. His hands slid around you. Firmly holding you, he yanked your soaked body to his. His umbrella only hid your bodies from the wind with his ability. “How long, tell me how long.” his voice was breaking but still stern.

“I don’t know? Weeks, months, maybe years?” you don't move, afraid and cold, you could not meet his eyes. “Why do you care? You’ll just end up the same as everybody else. I’m worthless right? I mean, everybody leaves me alone. I don't fit beauty standards to perfection. Nobody would want me so, why not? Why not take the shortcut to happiness?” you were slapped again. It was light, but it stung enough to snap you from those thoughts again.

“Ya well think about somebody else! I don’t need two suicidal idiots! Having one to worry about is enough! Not that I worry about that mongrel! I do about you though, you’re my drinking partner. You’re the one who managed to get me to open up to being touched! I don’t hug or act... soft with anybody else! You don’t get to take that away! I don’t care what you look like, sound like, fuck, I don’t care about anything but what’s in there. In that fuckin heart! I am not a softy, you know I don’t say shit like this often but… you can’t do that! If you're miserable enough to really be willing to toss it all away, then you should talk to somebody!” his voice was panicked. Yes, he was being selfish. He knew that this wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t a feeling you could so easily overcome. Yet, here he was hoping that you would let him help you.

“I'm sorry! I’m so sorry! I just… I thought… wouldn’t it be better for everybody though? Sure you'd be sad at first but you'd forget about me!” Chuuya shook his head. Meeting your eyes with his clouded ocean ones. Tears fell, almost unnoticeable within the pouring rain.

“No, no I wouldn't! I wouldn't because I love you! I fell in love, I don't know how or when it… it just happened! Isn’t this enough? One person, am I not enough? If I had known I’d have held you to me, given you all the cuddles you ever needed!” he buried his face into the crook of your neck. He didn’t care if you felt the same or not at this point. He just needed to let you know somebody cared for you.

“Chuuya…” a light in the tunnel, it formed inside the tunnel.

It is, as they say, eventually you will meet that light. You will find meaning in your life. Something good will happen, then, all the people who put you here will be nothing but bad memories, and lingering ghosts of the past; You can move on. A light will come to you eventually, no matter how dark it seems, that light will show itself. In a friend, a relative, a job offer, an achievement. Those beads of light spread and eventually, they will pull you out enough to know true happiness.

When Chuuya looked worriedly to you, he was taken aback by your arms tossing around him. Your tears being muffled by his own lips. He kissed back before pulling away. Even if you still felt low you were slightly feeling better. Just knowing there was somebody to hold you like this was enough to curve the thoughts for a while.

He took his jacket and wrapped it around you, lifting you into his arms. He carried you to his penthouse, setting you down on the couch located in his bedroom. He looked around, finding one of his larger hoodies he tossed to you. He started hot chocolate as he waited for you to change. You’d probably be sick tomorrow, given it had been cold and you were drenched.

He carried the mug back to the couch, placing it down, he frowned. Walking to a closet, he pulled a small towel out. Rubbing it against your skull as you sniffled, he sighed. “Do you need anything else?” shaking your head, you grabbed his arm.

“Just… some cuddles?” he nodded holding you close, trying to warm your frigid body up. “Did you mean it? You'd really care if I…”

“Yeah, I did, is there a problem? I know it may not mean much. I know how depression works, at least a little bit. It’s not something that can be easily controlled. I just want you to know that you are perfect to me. If somebody ever tells you otherwise, I'll crush them to a pulp.” cracking a small smile, Chuuya's eyes lit up. “There we go, a small smile is a win. So you like me being all protective? Good, I’m a little territorial.”

Looking at him you nodded. “Yeah… okay.” you still sounded so sad.

“I'm serious! I’d squash even Mori if he insulted you in any way! You’re the most perfect thing I've ever seen and known! You're beautiful outside and inside, people are just jealous of how perfect you are.” he was trying to lift your spirits and it seemed to work a little.

“Can we just stay like this?” Chuuya nodded, letting you lean your head on his shoulder. He didn’t move even as you fell asleep.

#bsd #bsd x reader #bsd x reader comfort #bsd comfort #bsd angst #bsd angst x reader #bsd x reader angst #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs comfort #bungo stray dogs angst #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader comfort #bungo stray dogs x reader angst #bsd fluff #bungo stray dogs fluff #chuuya #chuuya x reader #chuuya x y/n #bungou stray dogs #chuuya fluff #chuuya angst #chuuya x reader fluff #chuuya x reader angst #chuuya x you

[diavohno]

peccant pt.1

▹ pairing: lucifer x fem!reader, mammon x fem!reader, leviathan x fem!reader, satan x fem!reader, asmodeus x fem!reader, beelzebub x fem!reader, belphegor x fem!reader

▹ genre: smut, rut!au

▹ words: 6.6k

▹ rating: nsfw

▹ warnings: mc curses like a sailor and solomon has no filter, lucifer’s had a rough time, a pinch of grinding, mentions of masturbation, hickies, explicit sexual content, vaginal sex, rough sex

▹ notes: tadaa! this took a bit longer than I had originally planned (hence the big gap between the sneak peek and the full release) but I was determined to crank this out for @hornywrath​‘s birthday! hope you enjoy a lil bit of mammon hun, and happy birthday! also, I guess this also counts for a 400 follower milestone, which we hit very recently! thank you all for being here, I hope the wait was worth it ;)

“Solomon, I’m about ready to fight someone,” you seethed to the sorcerer as you glared up at his ceiling from your comfortable resting spot on top of his bed.

The entire situation was ridiculous. The brothers had been actively avoiding you almost all week, which was annoying enough, but today they had cut off all communication with you entirely. No one came down to breakfast, no one was in any of your shared classes, and no one even bothered to text you so you’d know what the hell was going on. If they were going to give you the cold shoulder the LEAST they could do would be to tell you why.

Instead, you were left to wonder what you had done wrong because surely there was some explanation for their behavior. After a full day of scouring your memory during boring classes (in which there was no one to distract you, unlike usual) you were still drawing a blank on what exactly you had done. 

This only meant one thing: you were 100% innocent in this situation, and the brothers would never live this down if you had anything to say about it.

When you were about halfway back to the House of Lamentation after class your D.D.D. buzzed. Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest seeing that the notification was a text from Lucifer. It was the first time any of the brothers had contacted you all day! With any luck, you’d finally get some explanation as to just what was going on, and (if you were lucky) an apology. The second one is highly unlikely given that it was Lucifer who had texted you, but you still had hope. That is, until you opened the message.

After class, immediately go to Purgatory Hall. You will be staying there with the other exchange students until further notice.

A second set of buzzes followed the first, in case one punch to your heart wasn’t enough.

Under no circumstances are you allowed to return to the House of Lamentation without permission.

Excuse you? Were you seriously just told that you weren’t allowed in your own house anymore? Sadly, yes, that seemed to be exactly what had just happened, and Lucifer isn’t the sort of person that you’d argue with about an order.

But come on, you hadn’t even gotten an explanation!

With no other choice, you turned your livid butt around and marched (read: stomped) over to your new home, ready to tell (read: rant to) your fellow exchange students of the injustices you had been served as of late. As if Lady Luck wanted to send an ‘F U’ herself, Solomon was the only one in Purgatory Hall when you arrived. Not the beautiful and benevolent Simeon, or Luke, who you thought of as an angelic younger brother, but Solomon, with a fox’s grin that was far too smug for your liking. And, unfortunately, the smugness only grew as you lamented about how abysmally bad your week had been thus far.

“Oh, y/n,” he said, a teasing coo woven into his tone. Your attention shifted from his incredibly interesting ceiling to his incredibly boring head that he was propping up on his desk with his incredibly boring hand. Solomon may be one of your best friends, but you’d be lying if you said he didn’t push your buttons all the damn time. “You’re so naive to the ways of the world.”

“Sorry I’m not a fancy pants magic bitch like you,” you grumbled with no real bite behind your words. Would you believe he then had the audacity to snicker at you? Because that’s exactly what he did. It took all of your strength plus a little extra from the Big Man Upstairs to not clock the white-haired menace into next week. “Solomon, explain to me what’s going on before I do something I won’t regret.”

Ever the fake pacifist, he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, no need for violence. And, really, it’s your own fault that you don’t know about demon ruts.”

Silence filled the room, leaving you to sit there and drown in it as Solomon seemingly decided the desk itself would make a much more comfortable seat than his chair. With just those few words he had managed to switch your brain from operating on Google Chrome to Internet Explorer, and what is the next thing he does? Perches on his desk like it was normal. 

After some time passed with you buffering and Solomon preening as if he had just been graced by God, you finally managed to spit out, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

More snickering. Try as you might, you couldn’t fight off the blush that had been steadily creeping onto your cheeks, so you instead gave in and decided to find out as much as you could. “You mean, right now, they’re at home—”

“Jacking themselves off on anything of yours that they can get their cummy little demon mitts on? Ding ding ding, you’ve guessed it! Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve been in your room already. Having a—” calculating eyes swept your form from head to toe before continuing irritatingly hesitantly, “presumably fertile female so close is akin to torture when they’re rutting, so what remains of your pheromones are probably the only thing they can smell at the moment.”

Taking the high road for once in your little gremlin life, you chose to ignore the ‘presumably fertile’ comment and remained focused on the topic at hand: the brothers were going through a demon rutting period. “That is so unbelievably disgusting and hot at the same time.”

So some of your inner gremlin slipped out, sue you.

Solomon sighed as if he expected nothing more from you, white strands of hair falling onto his face as he pressed it into the palms of his hands. “Leave it to you to be turned on by the suffering of others.”

“Shut it, Solomon, you know what I mean.” Heat flared across your cheeks at the insinuation. You may be many things, but a sadist was not one of them; Lucifer had that title locked down anyway. “Dammit. What do I do, Solomon? Lucifer texted me saying that I can’t go back, so does he really expect me to wear the same clothes for however many days it takes for their ruts to end?”

“Probably. He’s twisted like that. Ooh, what if he’s getting off to the idea that you’re—”

Before you had a chance to cut Solomon off from finishing a sentence that would have undoubtedly mortified you to no end, a series of rapid-fire buzzes from your phone did it for you. You had patted both yourself and the area around you on the bed down thoroughly only for Solomon to dangle your phone in the air. Warning bells sounded off in your head loud and clear the moment you noticed his cheeky grin.

“I think you should put this one on speaker.”

With a flick of his wrist, your phone sailed through the air and landed on the bed next to you after you failed to catch it. Ignoring Solomon’s snort, you flipped your phone over to see who was calling you. The name, along with everything you had just discussed with Solomon, caused your pulse to pound in your ears.

It was Mammon.

Panic ran through your veins like liquid lightning. Should you answer it? There could only be one reason why he would be calling if he was rutting. Warmth shot straight to your core. Deep down, you realize that if he was calling you to ask for help, you’d say yes. Solomon cleared his throat and gestured at your phone, reminding you to answer before you lost your chance. Without hesitation, you answered the call, switching to speakerphone with a pointed glare from the man across from you.

Within seconds, breathy groans rang out from the phone. Your face flushed as you spared a glance at Solomon, who had donned a shit-eating grin, before your attention snapped back to the phone upon hearing Mammon’s voice. “Where are ya, y/n?” he whined. “I need ya so bad.”

Your teeth caught your bottom lip between them. “Lucifer told me not to come back for now, so I’m at Purgatory Hall.”

A string of expletives exploded from the speaker, although they died down as quickly as they started. When Mammon addressed you again, the pleading tone to his voice was in no way subtle. “Please. . . Please come help me, y/n. I need ya.”

“Mammon, babe, are you rutting?” Your eyes widened in horror while Solomon snickered gleefully; the question had fallen out before you could really even think about it. 

You weren’t given much time to worry over it, though, as Mammon answered in confirmation, “Yeah. And everythin’. . . Everythin’ fuckin’ HURTS. It hurts so bad, y/n, please.” Images of some of your succubi and incubi friends flashed through your head. It would probably be best that a demon helped him through his heat. If you helped, you’d likely get hurt. You had just begun to offer to call one of your friends when your words were cut short with a growl. “No, dammit! I only want you! Only you, ya hear me, y/n?”

A milky-white hand clamped firmly against his mouth was the only thing preventing Solomon from alerting Mammon to the fact that you were not the only human hearing him at that moment, and that hand was getting dangerously close to not being enough to save the two of you. The thought of how Mammon would react upon finding the two of you out sent a shiver down your back. You could NOT let that happen.

Executive authority coursed through you as you turned off the speakerphone and brought it up to your ear instead; a curling lick of satisfaction in your chest was the only thing Solomon’s huff of discontent managed to elicit. “Okay, Mammon, I’m on my way.”

A pleased groan answered your words, followed by a click. You blinked a few times, waiting to no avail for anything else— he had hung up on you. Although you’re not quite sure what you expected (some thanks would have been nice) you couldn’t help but to notice how your body seemed to be thrumming with anticipation.

“Oh, you’re on your way, are you? You DO realize that if you go to help one of them you’ll have to help ALL of them, right? So are you stupid? Is that it?” the whirlwind that was Solomon accused, white brows furrowed in total scorn. “And here I was, thinking that you were a creature of intelligence. Oh, how it pains me to be wrong.”

Already on your feet, you pocketed your phone and smoothed out your clothes, ready to head to the House of Lamentation at any moment. After concluding that you were presentable enough to go have a demon rip your clothes off your body— a matter that you had grown incredibly serious about in a somewhat suspiciously short amount of time, as if the thought of being ravaged by the brothers had crossed your mind before— you turned to address the snarky sorcerer in the room. “You heard him, Solomon. He’s in serious pain right now, and he wasn’t going to accept anyone else’s help getting through it.”

“That’s a bullshit excuse and you know it,” he said in exasperation. “He’s a DEMON. He’d say whatever he needed to in order to get you there!”

Arguing with him was clearly going to get you nowhere. Instead, you stared down Solomon, daring him to continue trying to change your mind. It was a battle of the minds, and luckily for you, you happened to be one of the most bull-headed humans to ever grace the earth. After what couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, Solomon relented with a burdened groan.

“Fine, just let me cast a spell on you so you aren’t impregnated and obliterated, for the love of God.” His eyes searched yours imploringly. If you didn’t know any better you’d almost think that he was worried about you, but that would be a ridiculous idea. Still, you agreed, to which he let out a breath of relief.

Without wasting any time he crossed the room and took your hands in his own. Low mutterings in a language you didn’t recognize left his mouth, so you focused on the feeling of his hands; they were surprisingly soft and a bit bigger than you had previously thought.

A faint warmth and a corresponding tingling sensation started at your fingertips and soon encased your entire body, the tingling somehow reassuring as it raised goosebumps to the surface of your skin. Your eyes flitted up to Solomon’s questioningly, only for them to widen in shock— his eyes had gone entirely white and were glowing. Just as you were about to admit that his magic was actually pretty cool, it stopped.

The warmth and tingling disappeared, and Solomon’s eyes blinked back to normal. The only effect of the magic that you could feel was a particular humming sensation in your lower abdomen. That, and you felt like you could take on Diavolo himself and win, but that wasn’t a new feeling; an uncommon one, sure, but definitely not new.

Satisfied with his work, Solomon staggered a few steps backward before flopping onto his bed. “You should be good to go.” He propped himself up on his elbows, fixing you with a squinted stare. “You’re lucky I enjoy our banter, y/n. Can’t let you go and get yourself fucked to death, now can I?”

“God, don’t phrase it like that,” you said in a strangled voice, to which Solomon cackled and dropped onto his back once again. Just when you thought the two of you might have grown closer, he had to go and say something as mortifying as that. With renewed vigor, you scurry out of the room.

Solomon’s silvery voice echoed through the open door behind you. “Like what, the truth?”

He just managed to catch your snort before you walked out of earshot, leaving the sorcerer sprawled out on his bed, his chest heaving in deep breaths of air. The spell he had cast on you had taken quite a bit out of him. Now, he struggled to even keep his eyes open as waves of sleep crashed over him.

Would it normally take this much energy to prepare a human body for a demon rut? He supposed not, although it wasn’t exactly something he did except on the rare occasion, but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you wouldn’t just be dealing with one demon. There was something else, too. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Ah, well, it was sure to come to him after he had rested up again. The comforting blanket of sleep settled over him, as well as his own blankets after he slipped under their covers. Right before he entered dreamland, the vision of a glowing pact mark appeared in his mind. His eyebrows knitted together; was this a premonition?

However, the mark was soon swallowed up by the foggy mist of his mind, and Solomon drifted off to sleep. 

x x x x x

Never before had you gotten to the House of Lamentation faster than you did today. Just going home wasn’t nearly the same level of motivation as going to get some demon dick, so you hauled ass in record time, weaving in and out of random pedestrians you encountered that were walking the paths around the Devildom. Your friends really were right: you had no hope of making it into heaven. The worst part is, they had no clue whatsoever how true that statement was.

You came to a halt in front of the dorm you had recently come to call home, your hands on your knees as you struggled to regain your breath. It took everything you had not to just collapse into a weary heap on the front steps, but the promise of what was to come was enough to keep you going. Instead, you took a minute to steady your breathing before climbing the steps and slipping into the house. Technically, Lucifer had forbidden you from coming home, so it would probably be best to not alert him to your unwanted presence.

Thankfully, you had plenty of practice tip-toeing around from all of the times you’d snuck out with Asmo to go clubbing. Lucifer would never know you were there.

As you snuck past the kitchen toward the hallway of bedrooms, the sound of the tap turning on freeze you in your tracks. With your heart in your throat, you slowly twisted your head toward the direction of the sound, hoping from the bottom of your sin-stained heart that the person responsible wasn’t who you thought it was.

There, his bare back hunched over the sink with a glass of water clenched tightly in his degloved hand, stood Lucifer. Although the mere presence of the man had you rattled, what he was wearing— or rather, what he WASN’T wearing— made you even more so. He had donned a pair of baggy grey sweatpants that rested low on his hips and had lost the rest, leaving little to be imagined. Little to be imagined of HIM, that is— the sight sparked plenty of thoughts on your part. 

The temptation to slink away to Mammon before you were discovered was great, but the temptation of marveling this new side of Lucifer was greater; you steeled yourself and moved toward him.

His rut seemed to have taken quite the toll on him already, as his usually well-kept hair was now disheveled and somewhat damp as if he had just recently gotten out of the shower. A shiver ran down your spine as the image of Lucifer in his shower was plastered to the forefront of your mind. With much thanks to your abysmally short attention span, the thought was easily discarded when you noticed that his muscles rippled along his back with each movement he took: emptying his glass; placing it back down on the counter; pushing his hair back.

Even as he turned around and realized someone had joined him in the kitchen, you couldn’t find it in yourself to run for cover. Maybe you’d screwed up your survival instincts at some point?

“y/n?” Lucifer croaked, his gaze predatory as it raked down your form. Something akin to a harrowed smirk cracked across his face when you shivered at the intensity radiating off of him, yet it was soon replaced with a pained grimace. His hands clenched the edge of the counter behind him so tightly that his knuckles were white as he ripped his gaze away from you. “I believe I explicitly told you not to return here until you received further instruction. You disobeyed me.”

You’d be lying if you said that the commanding growl in his words didn’t turn you on. Hell, if anyone told YOU that you’d just laugh in their face because damn if that wasn’t the sexiest thing you’d ever heard. Not to mention the electrifying effect it had on your body; it was as if every fiber of your being was on edge right now, acutely aware of every single thing that Lucifer said or did.

You found yourself longing to press your body up onto his, to entangle your hands in his already messy hair and mesh your lips together while you hook one of your legs around his waist to keep him close as he slams you up against the counter—

The purposeful clearing of his throat snapped you out of your imagination. It’s odd for you to have become so withdrawn from reality, but you just chalked it up to it being a side effect from whatever spell Solomon had cast on you. Anyway, Lucifer had asked you a question, and while it may not have been the smartest decision in the long run, you were in no mental state to be pulling lies out of your ass. “Mammon asked me to come over and help him.”

“Oh really? So you’ve discovered our dirty little secret, but still came?” he hummed in thought, more to himself than to you. Some switch must have flipped in him as he had gone from very obviously holding himself back to slowly stalking toward you with a wolfish glint in his eyes. It was at that moment that your survival instincts kicked in and you took two small steps back for every one Lucifer took forward. Sadly, you seemed to have walked further into the kitchen than you had originally thought you did and soon found yourself pressed along the center table with nowhere else to run from the demon in front of you.

A pink tongue darted out from his mouth, wetting the bottom lip that it dragged along. Lucifer had you right where he wanted you. It took a total of three steps for him to close the gap between you two, his arms resting on either side of you to cage you in. Desire flickered in his half-lidded eyes as he stared you down. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for you to be here?”

You hummed in response, too fixated on how alluring his slightly-parted, flushed lips looked. Due to your intense focus on said lips, you didn’t miss how the corners of his mouth quirked up before he leaned forward and out of your sight. Your breath caught in your throat as his heated breath fanned out across your neck while he spoke. “You’re lucky that you ran into myself and not one of my brothers. Unlike them,” his hips met yours and instantly began to slowly roll, “I can control myself.”

The hardness of his length and the waver in his tone seemed to suggest otherwise. 

A devious thought pushed itself to the forefront of your mind, one that you were all too willing to go along with. One of your hands ghosted down his chest, your nails lightly scratching his pale skin while the other snaked upward and caressed his cheek. Lucifer shuddered into your touch and bit back a quiet groan, his hips grinding against yours with a tad more urgency.

“What happened to being able to control yourself?” you asked breathily. With any luck, you’d be able to get his self-control to snap and he’d take you right then and there. Your thighs tensed slightly as heat shot to your core at the thought.

Then he pulled away and your entire mastermind plan came crashing down.

Lucifer stumbled backward, fingers pinching his nose tightly shut as he glared holes into the ground. Wait, do you smell or something? You could’ve sworn you had put deodorant on that morning. A discreet sniff of yourself reassured you that you did not stink, so why the abrupt stop?

“I believe that you should find Mammon in your room.” He staggered backward with urgency; so much so that he would have clipped his side on the counter had you not warned him. Pink dusted his cheeks for a moment as he cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed from not noticing the counter. Your bemusement was cut short, however, when he fixed you with a piercing look that sent shivers down your back. “I expect to see you in my room once you are finished.”

Unable to stop yourself, you quipped back, “I’ll think about it.”

“By all means, do,” he purred, red eyes narrowing into seductive slits. Even as he backed out of the room, sweat beads beginning to glisten on his forehead, he somehow still made you want to do nothing more than hand yourself over to him completely. “But let me assure you that the actual thing will be so much more enjoyable than whatever you end up imagining.”

With that, he was gone, and you were left with nothing but yourself and your newfound neediness. You had half a mind to chase after the first-born, but the other half of your mind was insisting that you go to Mammon, as he was the one who had called you in the first place. With a small sigh, you headed off down the hallway toward your room. It was a short walk, as per usual, but the anticipation that had once again began to swirl in your stomach lengthened it a good bit.

What, exactly, did helping a demon through their rut entail? You assumed that they needed help finishing, but was that it? Of course, you’d help the brothers out with anything, ESPECIALLY if they were in pain because of it, but it was a little unnerving not knowing exactly what you had gotten yourself into. Thank God that Solomon had been there to help cast a spell on you (which you still had no clue what it did, but you trusted him enough to believe that you’d be fine) because, now that you’ve had some more time to think about it, there was no way you’d be able to walk away from this little excursion of yours unscathed.

You hesitated outside of your partially opened door for just a moment before stepping inside and locking the door behind you. As you turned around to once again face the rest of your room, quiet huffing and groaning alerted you of the demon in the room with you.

The sight that blessed your eyes ignited a white-hot fire in your core.

Mammon was sprawled out buck-naked on your bed, your sheets and comforter rumpled enough to lead you to assume that he had been wriggling around on them for a while. As a surprise to no one, your eyes immediately zeroed in on his hand— namely, how said hand was loosely wrapped around his length and lightly jerking it. His caramel skin glistened under a sheen layer of sweat from his exertions, and his head was tipped back against your pillow as he chased a semblance of relief.

You mindlessly take a few steps toward the sight. Had he not noticed you were in the room yet? Considering how tightly his eyes were screwed shut and how his breathing was getting progressively louder, it wasn’t impossible.

“Mammon?” you called out hesitantly, unsure if you should be interrupting or not. Although, he had called you specifically to help him with this exact thing, so maybe you were worrying about nothing.

His eyes snapped wide open the moment his name came out of your mouth; he really hadn’t heard you enter then. A shuddering inhale shook his form for a moment before he pushed himself up to a seated position and said in disbelief, “You really came.”

As if you could ignore his phone call. You rolled your eyes as you finished closing the gap between the two of you, your hands lifting to cup Mammon’s warm cheeks. “I said I would, didn’t I?” Unintelligible mumbling followed that you silenced by pressing your thumb against his lips. “What do you want me to do?”

Without a word, Mammon’s hands gripped your waist and guided you onto his lap, your knees on either side of him. His hot mouth instantly found your neck, the feeling of his hasty kisses and the occasional nip stealing your breath away. Not staying in one place too long, the kisses quickly trailed their way down toward your collarbone, only for the fabric of your shirt to get in the way. Aside from his annoyed grumbling, Mammon didn’t make any comments about it and simply tugged at your shirt, wordlessly asking you to take it off.

Of course you complied (because why would you not?) and freed yourself from the now-restrictive fabric. No sooner had you wriggled out of your top than had Mammon’s hands begun to roam all over your body, almost as if he was attempting to commit your form to memory. 

Everywhere his hands went brought a tingling sensation to your skin. Eventually, one dipped low enough to fiddle with the band of your shorts, although it didn’t go any farther than that. As great as the makeout session was, a growing firmness pressing along the inside of your thigh and the unsteadiness of his touch reminded you of exactly why you were called in the first place.

“Mammon,” you tried, but your words fell on deaf ears as Mammon was too lost in the feeling and taste and touch of you to even register that you had spoken. Fog rolled across your mind as he found a particularly sensitive spot and capitalized on it, teeth gently scraping against the skin which was immediately followed by a soothing swipe of his tongue. Still, you found it somewhere within you to try again. “Mammon, wait.”

“Hm?” His lips buzzed pleasantly against your neck, eyes turning up toward your own.

Your stomach flipped at the sheer want pooling in their golden ichor. “I’m here to help you with your rut, but right now I feel more like we’re focusing on me.”

“Of course I’m focusin’ on you,” he harrumphed, a look of embarrassment shading his features. “You’re a human! There’s no way you’d be able to jump right on in without gettin’ hurt, so I’m… I’m tryin’ to warm you up a bit.”

You chuckled, running a hand through his hair reassuringly. “That’s awful sweet of you, babe, but I’m seriously fine. Solomon hooked me up with some magic before I came over, so I’m all set.”

His grip on your hips tightened at the mention of the sorcerer, but he didn’t say anything about it. Instead, his hands jumped from your hips to your shoulders, flipping you onto the bed with Mammon positioned between your legs. You’d never noticed it before, but his canines were slightly more pointed than a human’s; they’re all you focused on when a smirk crept onto his features. “You should’ve said somethin’ sooner.”

If before had been the warm-up, then the main event was the warm-up times ten. Your mouths crashed together, and you found yourself fighting to stay caught up with Mammon’s urgent pace. The bed creaked underneath the two of you as Mammon rushed to get the rest of your clothes off. It was impressive how he managed to slide off your shorts without breaking away from you, but you weren’t allowed to dwell on that thought for very long at all.

“You’re sure about this?” His breathless question warmed your heart. Even now, as his legs trembled with the discomfort he was surely in and his gaze grew hazy, he had the decency to make sure that you were sure. You hadn’t faltered from your original commitment once, but now you were certain you had made the right choice.

A cheeky grin split across your face. “I’ve never been more sure about something in my life.”

No sooner had you gotten the words out than had Mammon’s cock shoved its way through your entrance, his hips pressing flush against your own. The burning feeling of your walls stretching to take him in so suddenly proved too much to handle, your body arching into his own as a gasping whine tore from your lips.

For a moment— just a moment— he stilled, allowing you to adjust to his size. One of his hands hooked underneath your knee and pulled it closer to your side so he could get a better angle. A shot of pleasure ran through you as the repositioning briefly caused your muscles clenched around him. Seeing the shudder rack your form, Mammon rolled his hips into yours. Your head tipped back at the feeling of his swollen length dragging against your walls, and he wasted no time in leaving blossoms of orchid and rouge along the now-exposed column of your neck.

As your eyes rolled back at the feeling, you missed how he shifted above you, gripping the head of your headboard with his other hand for support. You didn’t miss how his hips pulled back and thrust up into you, nor did you miss how each thrust following that was just as strong.

Unrestrained sounds fell from your open mouth as Mammon launched into an aggressive pace that left you scrabbling for purchase on his shoulders or back so you wouldn’t hit your headboard. The moment your hands bumped into something protruding from his back, your eyes flew open to search for what exactly you had just touched. 

At some point, Mammon must have shifted to his demon form, as his wings were currently curling over the two of you almost like some sort of shield. Your legs squeezed together at the sight, allowing Mammon’s next thrusts to find your g-spot. 

“Fuck, Ma-Mammon,” you cursed, the demon on top of you growling lowly as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“You’re so tight,” he groaned before pressing a firm kiss along your jaw. “You’re doin’ so good for me, y/n.”

You answered with a keening moan, as you were sure that you wouldn’t be able to articulate any more actual words— not while Mammon kept plowing into you at this speed, anyway. Tension coiled tightly in your abdomen, each thrust drawing you closer and closer to your peak. You couldn’t tell how close Mammon was, but with as ragged as his panting was growing, you assumed he wasn’t all that far behind you.

With every passing moment, your body grew more and more flush with heat and your moans increased in volume, which Mammon encouraged with more whispered praise. One particularly strong smack of his hips against yours triggered the release of a loud whine from your throat, and you were sure you wouldn’t be able to last much longer. “Just like that, sweetheart.” His lips brushed tantalizingly against your ear, making sure that you heard him over yourself. “Let ‘em all know who’s makin’ you feel this good.”

A few more solid thrusts were all it took to make you unravel, your toes curling and your body arching into Mammon at the utter bliss engulfing you entirely. 

“Mammon!” you wailed, all other words escaping you as stars danced behind your eyes. Your walls clenching down on him pushed Mammon over the edge as well, his hips stuttering before pressing as deep inside of you as he could, release spilling into your throbbing core. A groan tumbled from his lips as his teeth sunk into the crook of your neck, the sharp stinging drawing a soft whine from yourself.

After a few moments of deepening his mark, Mammon flopped onto his back and rolled you on top of him, his arms wrapping tightly around your body to gently hold you against him. The bliss from orgasming was now wearing off and was being replaced with exhaustion. Tension seeped out of you in waves as you relaxed against Mammon’s heaving chest, his skin cool against your warm cheek.

Laughter soon met your ears, and the shaking body beneath you made it pretty obvious who it was coming from. Drowsily, you pushed yourself up to a sitting position and let Mammon slip himself out of you while you threw an inquisitive look his way. The eyes that met your own were no longer ones of a demon in rut, but ones filled with total admiration. “What are you laughing about?”

“You,” he answered simply, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear while his other hand rested loosely on your bare hip.

Your heart fluttered at that, but you played it off with a small smile and a tiny slap against his chest. “Why are you being so cheesy?”

He said nothing, only answering with another laugh as he leaned forward to pepper your face with soft kisses. His laughter turned out to be infectious as you, too, began to laugh, leaving the two of you giggling into each others’ mouths before he pulled away, resting his forehead against your own. “I’m just so happy you actually came, y/n.”

“Me too, I was starting to get worried there for a bit,” you snarked, the teasing lilt evident in your tone. Mammon scoffed at playfully rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist as the corner of his mouth tugged up in a smirk. 

“Sure fooled me. You sure sounded like you were enjoying yourself.” Now it was your turn to fake being offended; you gasped indignantly before turning your head away in a fake pout.

“With this much disrespect, maybe I’ll just show myself out.” 

“Woah there, let’s not be too hasty.” A thumb and forefinger grip your chin and turn your head back toward Mammon, who had a peculiar twinkle in his eye. It was something warm and knowing and light, but you just couldn’t put your finger on it. The odd look didn’t leave when he pulled you against his chest for what felt like the hundredth time that day, nor did it leave when you tangled yourselves up in the other while you cuddled, just taking time to soak the other in.

Eventually, Mammon gave himself over to sleep, his light snores rumbling softly against the side of your neck as he unconsciously wriggled himself impossibly closer into you. You were just about to as well until two short sets of buzzes caught your attention.

Twisting around carefully in Mammon’s arms, you were just able to see your D.D.D. flicking off again after receiving the messages. Luckily, your shorts had ended up getting thrown onto your nightstand, so it wasn’t too much of a challenge to snag your D.D.D. from your back pocket without waking up the sleeping demon latched on to you.

Flicking it open, you saw that the messages had come from Levi.

come over please. I know your with mammon right now

I need help too y/n, please

You cast a glance over your shoulder at the said demon, guilt gnawing at your heart as memories resurfaced of how sweet he had been earlier; however, those memories were soon replaced with ones of Lucifer, disheveled and leaning into your touch, and of Solomon, warning you that you’d end up helping all of the brothers out. With a sigh, you tapped a quick reply to Levi that you were on your way and eased yourself out of Mammon’s arms.

As you got to your feet, you were surprised to find that you weren’t sore in the slightest, despite how rough Mammon had been. Solomon’s magic really was no joke. It didn’t take you long to slip back into your clothes (granted, you didn’t bother putting your bra and underwear back on because you’d just be taking them off again) and you soon found yourself staring down at Mammon.

You were still guilty about running off to go fuck his younger brother while he was sleeping, but at the same time, you’d feel even more guilty about only helping one brother and leaving the other six to deal with their ruts by themselves. Worrying your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment, you finally steel yourself and commit to your decision, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead before turning around and marching yourself straight out of your door. You don’t look back, because you know that if you do, the rest of the brothers would end up suffering through their ruts alone.

#obey me #obey me: swd #obey me mammon #obey me smut #obey me mammon x reader #heat!au #obey me fic #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

[triplexdoublex]

Alpha Omega

Pairings: Colson x Reader

Warnings/Tags: alcohol, drunk, attempted rape (colson saves you before ANYTHING happens), potentially triggering dialogue about it the next morning, strangers to friends to lovers, smut, squirting 💦

A/N: Inspired by a weird dream I had and a real tweet I read, the person Jake in the fic was actually Jake Paul in my dream (ew). If you think the beginning backstory may trigger you and just want to read their friendship turn to lovers/smut, then scroll to the 2ND time skip marked with stars (***)

College mid-terms were finally over, which meant the same thing every year: the Alpha Omega annual fraternity party! It was the biggest party on campus every year, and even though it’s not really your scene, you decided to attend this year. Maybe it was the stress of mid-terms weighing extra heavy on your mind, but you needed an escape. But now, five full drinks and some shots later, you find yourself stumbling around the drink and keg area in the kitchen with a half-empty red solo cup, wondering how the hell you're supposed to find your way back to your dorm to sleep off what was obviously a very poor decision.

“Hey pretty thing,” you hear, suddenly feeling an arm slink around your waist.

“Do I know you?” you ask, disoriented and confused as your eyes try to focus on the face of the person touching you.

“The name’s Jake,” he shouts over the music, guiding you out of the kitchen and into the main party room. “You should come back to my room, you look like you need to lay down,” he says with ill-intent, but you’re too intoxicated to argue, letting him lead you up the stairs.

Even though most of your senses are impaired right now, you can’t mistake the distinct, pungent smell of weed wafting towards you as Jake escorts you down the hall once the two of you reach the top of the stairs.

“Yo, Jake!” a voice shouts from an open door, smoke billowing out as you pass.

“Hey Cols, what’s up?”

“Nothing much, man,” he says, blowing a smoke ring as he passes the blunt to his roommate Pete. “Wanna hit?”

“Maybe later, gotta get this pretty little thing back to room,” Jake answers.

“Aye, she alright? Colson questions, quickly rising to his feet.

“Yeah, pal she don’t look too good,” Pete coughs.

“Nah, man, that’s fucked up. She’s gooone!” Colson says getting a closer look at you. ‘You can’t talk her back to your room like this. That’s just wrong.”

“The fuck I can!” Jake retorts. “Look,” he says turning to you and lifting your slumped head. “You wanna go to my room with me don’t you, sexy?”

“N-nno” You slur, drunkenly shaking your head ‘Yes’

“See, she shook her ‘yes’,” Jake argues.

“Yeah, and her mouth said fuckin’ NO, Dawg!” Colson snaps back.

“Listen, I’m taking her to my room and there ain’t shit you can do about it!”

“The fuck there is!” Colson swings, his closed fist making contact with the side of Jake’s face, knocking him out cold.

***************************

The next thing you know you’re opening your eyes; an unfamiliar room and bed coming into view. You slowly sit up holding your throbbing head

“Hey, you’re awake,” says a soft voice to your right. Quickly, you turn your head in a panic to see a tall blonde sitting on the edge of the bed.

“W-who are you? Where.. Where am I?” you ask on the verge of tears.

“My name's Colson,” he reaches out for your hand. “I —”

“Don’t touch me!” You yell, scooting backwards pulling  the covers up over you when you realize all you’re wearing is a thin, white, mens t-shirt. “Where are my clothes?”

“Aye, yo, it’s not like that. Relax, listen,” he stands with his hands up backing away from you. “I slept on the couch, I just wanted —”

“Where are my clothes!?” you demand.

“You threw up on them,” he answers.

“So lemme get this right … I threw up and you took off my clo —”

“NO! No! God no!” he says waving his arms. “My roommate Pete —”

“So your roommate Pete took off my clothes…?”

“NOOO! Please, just listen. I swear I was just trying to help you and keep you safe.” The desperation in his voice causes you to let down your guard a little. “I was saying, my roommate Pete. His girl. She stayed over last night and I asked her to help get you cleaned up and changed. I saw nothing I swear,” he puts his hands up again.

You sit there in silence, confused, trying to process everything he just said.

“You really don’t remember anything from last night? Do you?” He asks, stepping slowly back towards the bed.”

“No,” you shake your head, disappointed in yourself.

He cautiously begins to sit back down on the edge of the bed then pauses “Can I?” 

You nod ‘yes’ and he takes a seat.

“Yo, you were in really rough shape last night. I’m assuming you had too much to drink?”

“Yeah,” you admit looking ashamed.

“Aye, we’ve all been there. I’m just glad you’re ok,” he smiles. “Me and my homie Pete were just up here smoking when we seen some dude we know trying to take you back to his room. I could tell you were wrecked. Fuck, you where barely conscious. I tried to tell him how wrong that was but he wouldn’t listen so I knocked him the fuck out. I didn’t know where your dorm was or if you came to the party with anyone and I wanted to make sure you had a safe place to sleep it off.”

“ Thank you. I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions,” you apologize.

“Nah I completely understand,” he accepts your apology. ‘That’s why I wanted to be here when you woke up, I figured you might be a little confused.”

“More than a little,” you let out a small laugh.

Colson cracks a smile, then heads to his dresser, pulling out a pair of his athletic shorts. “Here, tell you what,” he says, tossing the shorts on the bed. “ Imma head out there —” he points to the door. Let you get dressed and I’ll drive you back to your dorm. Cool?”

“Cool,” you answer with a thumbs up and a smile as he steps out the room, closing the door behind him.

*******************

“Seriously, thank you so much,” you say when he pulls up to your dorm.”What can I do for you? I feel like I can’t thank you enough.”

“Nothing. Any respectable man would have done the same thing,” he says.”I can only hope that one day if god forbid my daughter even finds herself in that position that someone would do the same for her.”

“Awww, you have a daughter?”

“Yeah,” he smiles like a proud father, lifting his backside from the drivers seat to pull out his wallet. “Her name’s Casie,” he says opening to her picture.  

“She’s beautiful.”

“Thank you,” he says, then tucking his wallet back into his pocket. “She lives with her mom but I still see her all the time.”

“I’m glad. You seem like you’d be a great father.” you smile. “Thanks again,” you add, stepping out of the car.

“Hey, ummm, wait,” he calls out the car window as you walk towards your dorm.

“Yeah?” you turn back to face him.

“Ain’t you in that bitch Mrs. Pearson’s creative writing class with me?”

“Oh yeah,” you thought he looked familiar. “You usually sit up in the back row right?”

“If you mean ‘take a nap in the back row’, then yeah that’s me”, he laughs.

“Well see you bright and early tomorrow then I guess,” you smile.

“Yeah, see ya,” he smiles back before driving off.

**************************************

The two of you became quite close after that. Gradually moving your seats closer and closer to be near each other in class and pairing up for projects together. You even got to meet his daughter Casie briefly once before her mom picked her up from their weekend visit. You spent a lot of your free time together.It was amazing how you could do absolutely nothing when you were together yet there was no awkward silence or moments: much like right now where you're both hanging out in your dorm just laying on your bed scrolling aimlessly through your phones.

“Oh my god why are men so stupid?” You blurt out in laughter, showing him a tweet on your phone. “This dude really had the audacity to make a whole ass thread about how to eat pussy but he obviously has no clue what he’s talking about; girls don’t squirt out of their clits!’ No wonder girls never cum and have to fake it. Ya’ll mother fuckers don’t even know where the clit IS, and I’m pretty sure squirting is just something made up by the porn industry cuz that shit never happens in real life.”

“Aye, nah I hope you aint including me in that, cuz lemme tell you, ya boy knows where the clit is!  My girls always cum,” he smirks. 

“Yeah, okay,” you roll your eyes. “How do you know they’re not faking?”

“Cuz squirting ain’t made up, that shits VERY real! Maybe not every time but it has happened so I know they weren’t faking,” he smiles. “You mean to tell me a guy has never made you cum?

“Uhn uh” you shake your head no.

“And you’ve never squirt... even ..uhh..by yourself...or with whatever toys you chicks use?”

“I mean I’ve cum alone, but never squirt. No,” you admit blushing. You and Colson have never discussed anything sexual with each other before.

“That’s bananas, dawg!” he exclaims, slapping the bed.

The room grows quiet, the silence feeling awkward for the first time in your whole friendship.

“Aye, uh you trust me right?” Colson breaks the silence

“Yeah, of course, with my life!” you exclaim.”Why?”

“Trust me enough to uhmm...show you what I can do?”

“Are--are you saying you wanna — “

“I wanna make you cum,” he blurts out, cutting you off. “If- if you’ll let me that is.”

“I...Uhmm..I..”, you stumble while thinking it over.

“Sorry… uhhh let’s just forget this whole conversation, okay?” he says ashamed, thinking he made you uncomfortable.

“Why not,” you blurt out nonchalantly.

“Wait!, why not, like… like you … you wanna —”

You silently shake your head yes biting your lip.

“Oh shit! For real?” He says in surprise, getting up off the bed. “Uhh, c’mere,” he calls you over to the edge of the bed.

You do as you're told crawling over to the edge, sitting with your legs dangling off the bed. “You know, you don’t gotta go easy with me,” you smirk waiting for him to make his next move.

“Good, I wasn’t planning on it,” he says, immediately flipping you over and yanking your panties off from under your dress.

“Ugh you boys are all the same,” you groan looking back at him assuming he’s just gonna start fucking you from behind. “Haven’t any of you even heard of foreplay?”

“Don’t tell me no one’s ever eaten your pussy from the back before?” he questions, kneeling down behind you. 

With both hands he grabs your ass making it jiggle for him before delving his tongue between your folds, his tongue exploring every crevice. You gasp at the sensation and feel his muffled laugh buzz against your core, intensifying your pleasure. Gripping your ass tighter, he alternates between plunging a firm, pointed tongue in and out of your wet slit and assaulting your clit with a series of rapid fire kitten licks. Your legs weaken with each lash of his tongue, your body slowly collapsing against the bed.

“Keep that ass up, girl,” he pauses briefly to say. You try with all your might but it’s no use; Colson has reduced your legs to a pile of jello. Roughly he tosses you onto your back, spreads your thighs open and gets back to work. Keeping his tongue focused on your clit, he slides two fingers deep inside of you, his lengthy digits perfectly pressing against your G spot. “I can feel this pussy tightening around my fingers, I know you're close, right?” He pauses to ask cockily.

All you can manage is to nod, ‘yes’, your bottom lip clenched tightly between your teeth as you look down locking eyes with colson; the fiery passion in them is a stark contrast to their ice blue hue.

Colson quickens the pace of his fingers, the sloshing of your wetness audible as he brings you closer to the edge. Then resting his free hand on your mound he gently pulls back the hood of your clit with his thumb exposing the most sensitive part sending your body into convulsions when he rapidly flicks his tongue against it.

“Colson, FUCK!!! ” you scream out in pleasure as the most intense orgasm of your life rips through you. “Oh my god... oh my god,” you chant in pleasure and shock as you realize you’re actually squirting. Colson doesn’t miss a beat continuing to work you through your high, relishing in the mess you're making all over his face and fingers. When you finally stop twitching he removes his fingers and sits up with a smug look. He pulls off his shirt, wipes his glistening face with it, then tosses it on the floor and hurriedly starts undoing his belt.

“You didn’t think I was just gonna stop at one, did you?” He says cockily pulling himself from his boxers. “Awhh, fuck yeah, sooo wet and tight,” he groans as he pushes in, then bringing his hand between your two bodies, and begins to rub your clit as he thrusts.

“Mhmmmhhmm,” you moan, the bundle of nerves still sensitive from your prior orgasm.

“Told ya I could make you feel good,” he teases, his breath ghosting over that one reactive spot on your neck just behind your ear, causing you to let out a little squeak. “You like that?” He laughs, nipping at the same spot while his hips roll in like the tide, crashing repeatedly against the shore of your pelvis. He nips and kisses along your jawline making his way to your mouth, harshly tugging your bottom lip with a groan. Your tongue reaches out, searching for him as he pulls back.

“Fucking tease,” you whimper.

“That desperate to taste yourself on me?” He chaffs.

To be honest you’re desperate for everything he’s giving you right now; you’re body has never felt such pleasure. So when he offers his mouth back to you, you happily welcome the tart taste of yourself still present on his ravenous tongue. Your mouths move in a hungry rhythm, following suit with your hips. Your breaths and moans echo each others, increasing in speed and volume as climax nears. He can tell you’re so so close and he knows just how to get you there. He  grabs your legs pulling you flush against him and throws your legs over his shoulder, keeping your thighs pinned to his chest with both arms as continues to pound you.

“Mhmmm… Yeah, Yeah, Fuck me! Fuck me!”  you whine needily clawing at the sheets as you enjoy his cock from a whole new angle, slamming into your g-spot at the perfect tempo. It’s just a few more thrusts until he has you completely undone, cumming for the second time today.

“Jesus Christ, Colson” you moan breathily as you ride it out.

‘Ughggg,” he grunts loudly, quickly pulling  out, your legs falling to hips as he finishes on your stomach. 

“Can’t believe you were out here talkin’ ‘bout men don’t know where the clit is and no man ever made you cum,” he says mockingly after he catches his breath. “Nah, girl, you just been fucking with some losers. Gotta get you a real man like me.” 

“Well looks like I got myself one now,” you smirk. “ because we will definitely be doing that again!”

“Awhhh shiiiit,” he says loudly, his hand covering his smile. “ Got you addicted to this dick already, huh?” He teases.

“Shut up,Colson-,” you laugh, chucking a pillow at him “- and go get me something to clean off my stomach.”

#mkg #mkg smut #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly smut #colson baker #colson baker smut #colson x reader #mgk x reader #machine gun kelly x reader #EST #XX #Pete Davidson #colson baker x reader #alpha omega #AU #mgk fanfic #machine gun Kelly fanfic #Colson baker reader

[skylights2000]

Hi again! I said I'd be back to make a request and here I am ^w^ Could I request Hajime and Nagito with a s/o who's the Ultimate Delinquent but is super sweet and not like a stereotypical delinquent at all? (If I'm able to add another character, maybe Kiyotaka or Mondo? Idk what your character limit is so I'm fine with just Hajime and Nagito if you can't do another one) Hope you have a good day/night!

Aw, that’s such a cute idea! I’d love to try it! 💜😄

~

Hajime:

You had an idea, and this was the perfect time to do it.

You’d woken up before Hajime and were just laying beside him when the idea struck you.

You weren’t the greatest cook in the world, but you knew how to make some damn good pancakes.

You were halfway through the second batch when a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. Your smiled fondly when Hajime rested his head on your shoulder.

You turned your head enough to kiss his temple. “Morning sweetheart.”

He always flushed when you called him that, and now was no exception. You giggled when the tips of his ears turned pink.

“I hope you don’t mind that I made pancakes.”

He reached around you to steal a piece of one.

“Hey those are hot!” You swatted at his hand, but he still popped the piece into his mouth.

He smiled at the taste. “It’s really good.”

You nudged him playfully with your shoulder. “Go get a plate then, and you can have some.”

He kissed you on the cheek before going to retrieve plates for the two of you.

You smiled to yourself as you touched your cheek. Your heart felt so full it could burst. It was the best feeling in the world.

Nagito:

Your eyes fluttered open, and you squinted as your eyes adjusted to the morning light.

You felt hair tickle your neck, and you smiled as you felt the weight beside you. You almost forgot that Nagito spent the night.

You carefully untangled yourself from him and crept out of your bedroom.

You returned half an hour later to find Nagito sitting idly on your bed, lost in his own thoughts.

“Nagito?”

When he didn’t answer, you walked over and touched his shoulder. “Hey.”

His head turned to you, and he smiled that smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Ah, I thought you had finally gone.”

“Huh?”

“It was only a matter of time before you left me. Did you finally realize how disgusting I am?”

You hated when he asked stuff like that with a smile.

You sat down beside him, combing your fingers through his hair. No matter how much he insisted that you should be with someone else, he always leaned into your touch with a content sigh.

“I just went to take a shower.” You told him, a slight note of amusement in your voice. “I’m always gonna come back to you.”

“Why?” His smile was gone, replaced by pure confusion.

You leaned forward and kissed him lightly.

“Because I love you.”

Kiyotaka:

You knew from the minute you saw him that Taka was upset. He looked caught between crying and punching something.

He hadn’t seen you, so you approached him cautiously. “Are you okay?”

“You!” You jumped when he whirled around to face you. “She’ll listen to you!”

“Who?”

He grabbed your hand and dragged you through the hallways until you reached the back of the school. Once you were outside, you saw one of the members of your gang.

“Smoking is not permitted on the school grounds!”

“Will ya shut up, ya fuckin’ nerd?”

You raised an eyebrow at the response. While Taka was busy silently fuming, you strode forward. “Don’t talk to my boyfriend like that.” You plucked the cigarette from her hand and ashed it out on the wall. “And quit smoking. That shit’s bad for your health.” You nudged her in the direction of the back door. “Go on. You gotta pick your brother up, don’t you?”

The girl’s face paled. “Shit!” She grabbed her bag and threw it over her shoulder before giving you a quick hug. “Thanks (Y/n)!” She called as she rushed back into the school.

You turned to Taka with a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry about that. I’ll talk to her again later, and hopefully, she won’t cause you anymore trouble.”

Taka just gave you a small smile in return, and you strolled over to him and wrapped an arm around his waist. “Ready to go home?”

“Y-Yeah.”

You marveled at how he could turn that red that fast, and you pretended to yawn to muffle a giggle.

Mondo:

You leaned your arms on your knees while you waited. You hated police stations.

“You coulda left him here. Teach ‘em a lesson.” Mondo reminded you, but you shook your head.

“Trust me, it’ll be a lot more effective if I handle it.”

You stood up when Akio was led into the room by one of the police officers. You ran to him and hugged him. “Good, you’re okay!”

Mondo almost felt bad for the boy. He was new to your gang, so he had no idea what was coming next.

You pulled away from him and immediately slapped him upside the head. “What the hell’s wrong with you?! How could you steal from a kid?!”

He yelped when you hit him again. “You better find that kid and apologize!”

“She’s still here, actually.” The officer informed them, and you nodded resolutely. “May we speak to her?”

The woman nodded and led them to another room where a girl was being comforted by her parents. She looked to be no more than eight years old.

Her parents looked up when you entered and immediately pulled the little girl closer to them.

You slapped Akio on the back, and he grumbled about you being stronger than you looked before turning to the little girl.

“I’m sorry. I was being an as-“ He cut himself off and corrected himself. “-a jerk.” Akio reached into his pocket and pulled out a sucker, which you assumed was what he took from her. “Here.” He held it out to her, and the kid eyed him for several seconds before taking it.

She unwrapped it with a grin and shoved it into her mouth before smiling at Akio. “Thanks mister!”

You wanted to snort at his expression when the kid hugged him. He patted her awkwardly on the back. “No problem, kid.”

You smiled to yourself, and Mondo wrapped an arm around your shoulders, planting a kiss on the top of your head. “You did good, babe.”

You wrapped your arm around his waist and squeezed. “Thanks honey.”

#danganronpa #danganronpa imagines #danganronpa goodbye despair #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #hajime imagine #hajime hinata #hajime x reader #nagito x reader #nagito imagines #nagito komaeda #kiyotaka x reader #kiyotaka ishimaru #kiyotaka imagine #mondo imagine #mondo x reader #mondo owada #gender neutral s/o #ultimate delinquent reader

[madswritingvoid]

Bootlegger

Pairing: Llewyn Davis x gn!reader

W/C: 1.6k

Warnings: Some swearing, sm**ches, but otherwise it’s still just fluff because Llewyn Davis makes me weak.

A/N: Okay so technically I played around with the state of bootlegs and access to recording devices but that’s fine we’re fine.

“Honey, I’m home!” 

You bounce into your apartment, putting the groceries in your arms on the small kitchen counter. Met with silence, you take off your coat and hat and begin looking for that mop of curls you love so much. “Llewyn? Baby? Are you okay?”

You hear shuffling and a string of muttered curses come from your bedroom and smile to yourself, even in your small New York apartment Llewyn could lose himself in whatever new song he was writing or record he just bought. “Hi sweetheart, yeah everything’s okay, just - just stay out there for a second. I was doing some cleaning and now I fucked it up,” he calls out but you don’t listen.

Even though you moved in together five months ago, your one-year anniversary around the corner, you couldn’t get enough of him. If that meant sitting on your bed and watching him clean up whatever mess he’s made, you were more than happy to keep him company.

“Don’t be silly, it’s not like I didn’t know what I was getting into when I moved in. You’ve never been known for being cle-,” you freeze in the doorway. A sheepish Llewyn looks at you from across the room, sat in front of your turntable, every record between the two of you spread out in front of him.

“Honey, why are my records on the floor?”

“Well, I realized we always have my records out and yours just stay in that little crate in the closet… So I thought it would be symbolic or something to mix them together and make it our collection? I’m even alphabetizing them!” He proudly exclaims, lifting up the larger crate of records to show you the letter markers he’s made with cut up cereal boxes. 

Your chest tightens, Llewyn has never been what people may traditionally consider “romantic”, but you loved him with your whole heart and knew he loved you too. Little projects like these may seem trivial to others, but you know this was just another way he was telling you he loves you.

“That’s a great idea baby,” you smile and walk over to the closet to get into some comfy clothes. Your last trip to the laundromat meant your favourite shirt of Llewyn’s was clean and ready for the taking, “why don’t you put something on for us while you keep organizing?”

He hums in agreement as he files through the stack of your records, his eyes immediately lock in on a record in a plain white paper sleeve with just the title in marker. 

L.D. Gaslight ‘65.

“What about this one? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you put this one,” he holds the record up so you can see it from the other side of the room. Your blood runs cold as you Superman leap onto the bed, trying to snatch the record from him, “no no no no!” 

“Whoa, baby! Slow down! We share everything, remember? You got me to admit I like Simon & Garfunkel, I promise whatever this is will not change how much I love you… Unless it sucks, then I might have to judge a little bit,” he teases, flashing you those big brown puppy dog eyes until you sigh in defeat. With a tiny nod from you and a reassuring kiss on the forehead from him, Llewyn carefully places the record on the player.

The comforting first crackle of the needle meeting vinyl fills the room and you’re taken back to that night at the Gaslight. 

Jean begged you to come with her after Jim had to ditch her for an impromptu writing session in the city, still asking her to record tonight’s performers at the Gaslight with his fancy new tape recorder. He thought the next step for their duo would be to record live performances at the lounge, a bootleg of themselves, or some bullshit like that according to Jean. 

“I know you’re not here because you want to be, lord knows I don’t, but I think tonight’s last minute line-up change might help.” You looked up at Jean, brow raised. Last you heard some marines-to-be were taking over the open mic, why would you give a shit? 

There’s a tapping sound against the mic and you can’t help the gasp that escapes.

“Um, ladies and gentlemen, as you can see I am not a group of strapping young marines, but my name is Llewyn Davis and I hope you’ll still enjoy your night.”

Your head whips over to Jean who’s sporting a knowing smirk on her face. Even though she had her own past with Llewyn, she was as supportive as she could be with the new relationship forming between the two of you. The past month was full of you sitting on her and Jim’s couch, gushing over your latest coffee date or poem you found on your bedside table in his rushed scrawl. You had admired Llewyn from afar for so long you dove head-first into being with him.  

You had it bad.

Llewyn’s eyes widen hearing his own voice. “... Baby? Did you make a bootleg of me?” You feel the heat rising until your face feels like it’s on fire but you don’t meet his eyes.

“N-No! Well, technically yes it is a bootleg of you. But I didn’t make it! I was there with Jean and you were performing, and I always thought you had a wonderful voice and we were just starting to talk and you were cute and and and -” he cuts you off with a soft kiss on the lips, pulling back so see the big grin he’s sporting.

“Since you’re so cute I won’t try and come after any copyright,” he laughs placing a reassuring kiss to your forehead, “but now you have to come and listen to this with me, voice cracks and all.” Holding his hand out to you, you slide off the bed and climb into his waiting lap. Your fingers automatically find their place among his crown of curls, Llewyn nuzzling his nose against your neck as you start to gently scratch his scalp.

His set only lasted twenty minutes but sitting in his arms, humming along to your favourite songs as he pressed soft kisses to your neck and shoulders, you could have stayed like this forever.

“Thank you for sticking around. Up next we have Jane Lane, have a good night everyone.”

Knowing what comes next, you try to wiggle out of Llewyn’s grip, but he doesn’t let you go, tightening the arms around your waist. “What’s wrong? Did you catch someone talking shit about my set on the tape?” He chuckles, but you freeze, knowing it’s too late to stop the next part of the recording.

The audience gives a polite but unenthusiastic round of applause. You roll your eyes and wolf whistle, making sure Llewyn knows that someone out there loved what he just did.

“I don’t know why you bother. I get that you’re all goo goo about him now, but come on. He’s a Grade A asshole, always has been,” Jean scoffs as she notices how your eyes still haven’t left Llewyn. 

You don’t even look over at her when you reply, Llewyn’s eyes finally meeting yours from across the smokey bar. You can’t help the large grin you feel coming, him giving you a shy one in return.

“I’m gonna marry him one day.”

The needle yanks itself off the still spinning record and you rush over to the turntable, quickly but carefully putting everything back in its proper place. “Okay, that’s enough of that for the night. They said they wouldn’t include anything after your set finished, but I guess that was a fuckin’ lie,” you mutter. 

Refusing to meet Llewyn’s eyes you go through the motions of putting the bootleg back among your collection and putting on some Simon & Garfunkel to fill the silence surrounding you both. If he had just let you go everything would’ve been fine. You weren’t embarrassed by what you said, but it still made you nervous knowing that he heard it. You tried to play it so cool when you first started really talking, he didn’t need to know you loved him so much from so early on, you didn’t want to scare him away now that you were finally going to that next part of your relationship. 

“Baby,” you will yourself to turn around, meeting those soft brown eyes you love so much. “Did - did you mean that?” 

“That depends,” you shrug, “did it freak you out? Because if it did that’s an inside joke between Jean and me and man is it funny but now’s not the time to start explaining everyth-'' you can’t seem to stop rambling until Llewyn stands in front of you and takes your hands in his.

“Did it freak me out to know the person I would look out for every time I got up there to sing was into me? That I loved you so much from the start and now I know you felt the same? Nah, didn’t freak me out at all,” he places a soft kiss on your lips and wraps his arms around your waist, swaying the two of you to the song playing in your own little dance. 

You don’t say anything after that, both of you just basking in the warmth of your love. There was so much more Llewyn wanted to say to you, but for now he just let himself relax into you. What you said didn’t just make him feel good, it made him feel like the luckiest man in the world.

And it sure as hell made him feel ready to finally show you what’s been in the small velvet box he’s been carrying around for the past two months. 

#llewyn davis x reader #llewyn davis imagine #inside llewyn davis #llewyn davis x you #llewyn davis x y/n #oscar isaac imagine

[tamagoincident]

To Lure a Bird

arthur morgan x reader

summary: The Van der Linde Gang plans to rob a train, too bad you hit it first. You, being the reasonable person you are, coerce rough-looking men to run a job with you in exchange for the stolen money, and everyone gets more than they bargained for.

chapter: 2/10

link: AO3

Chapter Two - The Man Who Makes All the Decisions

Chapter content warning: brief encounter of sexual harassment

You awoke gasping in the night, heart pumping, heaving in lungfuls of stale air. The darkness of the Saints Hotel room pressed close. You’d dreamt about Emma and Henry again. 

Frightened as you were, you whispered to yourself that you were safe, that the dampness upon your brow was perspiration, and not the spatter of blood from Henry’s gunshot wound. That the screams seeping from the peeling walls were not Emma’s, but recalled from the etchings of your memory. You collapsed back onto the sheets and pulled the blanket over your shoulders, shuddering hard against the nausea prickling in your stomach and praying for sleep to find you once more.

—

Arthur stood at the bar in Smithfield’s Saloon, casual in the way he leaned over it. How at ease he appeared, unapologetic in his taking space. You choked on your envy, allowing yourself to wonder what it’s like to do whatever you wanted, wherever you pleased, unescorted. This feeling climbed as the man seated closest to the entrance pulled his chair out fully in your direction, reclining with his thighs spread. You tightened your grip on the handle of your travel bag and kept your revulsion from showing too much. Folk like that chased any sort of reaction, like they chased down drink after drink.

Ernest waved you over, having noticed how quiet the room fell when you’d walked in through the swinging doors. Arthur remained fixated on his glass despite the change in atmosphere, spinning it idly atop the nicked wood, taking more stock in it than in his surroundings. His voice cut across the idle chatter from the tables. “You even wash these?”

“Funny you ask,” Ernest said, wiping down the bar with a rag. “We’re in the market for a dishwasher. You look right fit for the job.” He abandoned his task at your approach to reach towards one of the dozens of bottles lining the shelves behind him, but you held up a hand to stop him. You needed your full wits to do something as illogical as you were about to, potentially letting a stranger lead you to God-Knows-Where to meet God-Knows-Who, with the pistol shoved in your right boot acting as your sole reassurance.

“So you’re a comedian now, mister? Didn’t realize I was getting dinner and a goddamn show.” Arthur knocked back his shot of whiskey and put the glass down on the bar. You set your bag at your feet and settled yourself in the space beside him. Through the aroma of decades of liquor soaked into the timber of the saloon, you caught a whiff of soap and freshly scrubbed skin. 

“Cursin’ in front of women,” Ernest said, acknowledging you. “Ain't your daddy ever taught you manners?”

“Say that again,” Arthur growled and smacked both palms on the counter, moments away from hopping over it. You cleared your throat before he could hitch a leg up. He turned and froze, as if it surprised him that anyone else was in the saloon at all, let alone you in your best (and only) dress.

The disturbance had caused a bit of rubbernecking your way. While Ernest rattling the clients was always an entertaining diversion, (and privately, you would have seized the opportunity to see Arthur try to throttle him, the mountain of a man Ernest was) an all-out saloon-brawl was counterproductive to anything you’d arrived there to do. The situation had to be defused, and fast.

“I’m not a delicate flower, I won’t wilt from a little profanity,” you said. “It didn’t offend me to hear him swear the first time we’d met, and it doesn’t offend me now.”

Arthur looked at you. His expression turned from confused to even more confused. Clearly he hadn’t recognized you from your previous encounter. Taking pity on him, you helpfully concealed your nose and mouth with your sleeve, resembling the scarf you’d worn when he met you. He rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. You dug four bits from your skirt pockets, sliding them onto the counter to Ernest. “For this man’s next drink.”

“Couldn’t tell it was you without the get-up you was wearing the last time,” Arthur grumbled, and accepted the second shot of whiskey, placated for now, “or without the rifle.”

The rifle wasn’t concealable, and it hadn’t fit in the bag with your other travel necessities, so you left it with Ernest. You’d come back to Valentine to retrieve it later, at the right moment, along with half of the train score you had hidden away in a lockbox. “Had to try to look somewhat respectable for a negotiation. If there will be a negotiation, that is. Didn’t want to show up in my dusty travel clothes.”

“You look naïve, and an easy target to swindle,” he said, sparing a glance toward Ernest, who only cocked an eyebrow in response. Arthur cleared his throat. “Not that I’d do something like that. You see, I’m an itinerant worker, laid off from a factory—”

“Save it, please,” you said. “I’m not interested in divining who you really are or where you’ve come from. What I am interested in is whether you can help me with that offer we discussed. From your countenance, I assume your friend decided to take me up on it, against your better judgment.”

“What’s wrong with my countenance?”

“You’re scowling.”

“I ain’t,” he said, scowling. You put your hands up, conceding.

“He said he’d meet with you,” Arthur said. He brought the glass up to his lips. “Still decidin’ if I want to spin him a tale that I came to Valentine, but you never showed. Or, I could just rob you. I don’t think he’d mind that as much.”

“You just said you wouldn’t swindle me,” you accused.

The corner of Arthur’s mouth twitched, as if he wanted to laugh, but didn’t wish to act on it for fear of appearing too amicable. “You said we’d get half the money upfront?”

“Yes. You’ll get half if we can come to an agreement, and the other half once Emma is home safe.”

“I’m gonna be honest,” Arthur said. “We already went through an ordeal with that train, risking our skin to come up empty-handed. Now you want to pay us to risk it again with the score which should’ve been ours in the first place. This might end up being more trouble than it’s worth even with the seventy dollars you promised on top of it.”

“Hey lady, how much for your company?” A grunting voice emerged from behind you. You ignored it, too immersed in assessing the value of all your worldly possessions, your rifle among the other trinkets you had stashed away in different locations. You didn’t own land or assets to sell or put up for a loan. The single thing of monetary value in your possession was Henry’s wedding ring, and you’d hang before pawning that off. It’d been his dying request to return it to Emma. They’d only been married for five months when he was killed.

“I said, how much?”

Ernest jabbed his finger at him. “You best shut your mouth and sit back down ‘fore I drag you out of here, you drunken fool.”

 “Weren’t talkin’ to you.” A hand clapped on your right shoulder, jerking you backwards. “I was talkin’ to this uppity bitch—”

You only had a brief moment to recognize the man as the one from earlier who’d leered at you. In the next second, he was flat on the ground, clutching his newly crooked nose. Arthur was towering over him, shaking out the soreness of the impact from his hand. He bent down and, without so much as a word, wiped his bloodstained knuckles on the howling degenerate’s shirt. Apart from his slightly mussed hair and the wild promise of barely restrained ire lurking in his eyes, an eerie calmness rolled off of him.

So much for preventing a brawl. 

“You broke it! You fuckin’ broke it!”

“Hey,” someone piped up from the cards table. “Ain’t that the feller who damn near beat Tommy to death the other day when Hubert was workin’?”

“That was you Hubert was talkin’ about?” Ernest said to Arthur. “You owe us money for the window you smashed through, my friend.”

“How much was it to replace?” you said. “I can pay—”

More wailing. “I’m gonna skin you alive!”

“You know, Tommy ain’t been right since,” another person called out. “He may be an imbecile, but he’s our imbecile! You think it’s fun beatin’ on all of us?”

People were getting out of their seats. “Yeah!”

“Let’s go,” Arthur barked at you amid the jeering.

“My bag—” you said, surveying around your feet for your belongings. In the chaos, Arthur had grabbed it for you and was heading to the door. You struggled not to trip over your skirts in pursuit, casting one last apologetic look to Ernest, who seemed like he wanted to go after you. 

Arthur stood outside, unhitching his horse from the post. The temptation arose to make a jest, to smooth the terse silence with something guaranteed to irritate him further. You swallowed it and instead listened to the bustle of wagons and barking of stray dogs. 

“Grab your horse,” he said. “You can follow me. We got a bit of a ride south from here. Can’t for the life of me figure out why he wants me to lead you to camp, but I’m tired of arguin’ with him.”

You wondered who exactly Arthur was referring to. At the Trading Post, he’d hinted at a leader of sorts, the one who had yet to be named. You thought to ask for it, but there was a more pressing issue at hand. “I don’t have a horse. Not since my last one ran off.”

“She doesn’t own a horse,” he said to no one in particular, a moment of exasperation to the universe perhaps, if you had to guess. “How the hell you been getting around? Hot-air balloon?”

“Much less exciting than that, I’m afraid. Trains and stagecoaches. Sometimes I borrow a horse from Ernest. Sometimes I ‘borrow’ from strangers and return their horses before they’re missed.”

“I’m not even gonna pretend all that trouble you put yourself up to makes any sense,” Arthur grunted in response, strapping your bag to his saddle. “Alright, then. Come here.”

You didn’t move. In your hesitation, you considered beginning your rescue plan anew, using the train money to pay for hired guns, which you had wanted to avoid. If the first meeting between the two of you had gone well, the incident in the saloon had gone every bit as astray. But Arthur had intervened on your behalf, which you appreciated, regardless of the issue it had caused. You thought if there was any chance of a man caring whether or not Emma made it back alive, he was it. And there was the small detail of the score you lifted off his hands. You imagined it wouldn’t go over well if you offered it to another group.

Arthur placed the tip of his boot in the stirrup and hoisted himself up and over the saddle. He lowered his hand. This, you accepted with thanks and up you went onto the back of the horse. At this proximity, the scent of soap you’d noticed in the saloon was stronger. You couldn’t remember the last time you met a man who bathed with any regularity, let alone bathed at all.

“Might want to hold on to somethin’,” Arthur murmured. Your hands scrambled for purchase on the cantle as the horse fell into a trot. 

And off you both went, past the gun shop and the train station, the muddy roads shifting into dusty trails the further Valentine receded from view. You were glad to quit the miserable little town if only for a moment, and though you hadn’t any high expectations for your destination, you hoped it smelled better.

“You mentioned you’re taking me to a camp. How big is it?” you asked.

“Suppose you’ll find out soon enough,” came the curt reply. 

“Then, how many people are with you? Besides you and your friend.”

“Ain't you full of questions,” Arthur said. The pistol hidden in your boot felt heavier. It might be enough to fend off several people if they decided to take back by force what they believed to be theirs, but an entire camp? You reprimanded yourself for not thinking this whole thing through.

The horse veered left. Though you sat quietly, your mind was rife with uneasy thoughts. The sun blazed high in the sky, but it would soon begin its descent. You wish you’d asked to meet earlier, having not considered where you would lay your head down tonight, especially if your offer was declined. In all likelihood you’d end up sleeping propped up against a tree in the good company of hungry mosquitoes. Or hitching a twilight ride back to the Saints Hotel with some shifty wagoner. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d done either.

Arthur said something, which you were too deeply absorbed in your misgivings to have caught. You asked him to repeat himself. “I said, it’s not too much further now.” 

The horse picked up its pace. Suddenly you were aware of the soreness in your biceps from straining to grip the back of the saddle. Squeezing your thighs harder to maintain balance, you wrapped your arms around Arthur’s torso. If the unexpected contact startled him, he did not show it.

“I never thanked you earlier,” you said.

“For what?”

“Quieting that fellow back in the saloon.”

“I reckon you could’ve done it yourself. One minute you’re firin’ a rifle in my direction. Next, you’ve gone all feeble and quiet.”

“If I rose hell whenever someone pestered me, sir, I wouldn’t be here to pester you.”

This earned you a laugh. You felt sorry you weren’t able to see it. “It’s Arthur Morgan,” he corrected. 

Arthur Morgan. You’d known to call him Arthur from that friend Marston of his, but now that you knew both names, you thought it sounded familiar. You racked your recent memory for it, coming up empty. It was a common enough name, anyway. 

“You ain’t told me your name,” he added.

“That’s right, Mr. Morgan. I didn’t,” you said. And that was that.

—

“Coming through,” Arthur shouts as the horse slows. You crane your head to see who he’s speaking to when you spotted a man stepping into the clearing, adjusting the bowler hat atop his head with his left hand and swinging a rifle with his right. Your arms slipped away from around Arthur’s waist, back to gripping the cantle for support.

“My my, what’s this? Returning with a girl before the sun goes down,” he says with a wide grin. “You’re getting romantic in your old age.”

Arthur groaned. “Do you ever shut up? You fill every waking moment with your nonsense.”

The grin grew impossibly wider. Tilting his head up towards you and Arthur, you were just close enough to make out this man’s freckles beneath the shadow cast by his hat’s brim. “I’ve plenty of time for peace and quiet when I’m six feet under.”

“Just another reason to hasten you there,” Arthur said, then, softly to his horse, “Come on, girl.”

“He doesn’t really mean that, you know. He loves me,” the man called as you passed by, “Isn’t that right, Arthur? Like an older brother, I’d say!”

The horse stopped at a hitching station just beyond the camp entrance. Off you went from the rear of it, lowering yourself until your boots hit the grass. “Quite the lively introduction,” you said to Arthur.

“That boy is too busy cracking jokes and chasing skirts to do much of anything useful,” he said, dismounting. 

“He’s amusing,” you said. “It’s a breath of fresh air from all the prickly folks around these parts. Look at them wrong and they’ll be twitching for their gun.”

“About as amusing as an insect buzzing in your ear.” Arthur led you to a table, gesturing to the folding stools. “You can sit here a moment. And don’t talk to no one.”

You peered down at the tabletop, noticing copper stains that had long seeped into the wood. “Is that blood?”

Arthur shrugged. “Or you can stand, if that’s your preference.”

You tracked him as he made his way straight to the center of camp, to the largest of the surrounding fixtures, a cream-colored tent that stood proudly over all the rest, watchful. He stopped at the entrance, waiting for the dark figure inside to turn towards Arthur as they stooped slightly, perhaps to grab something. 

The figure emerged finally, joining Arthur outside of the tent’s shade. Sunlight beamed against glittering rings on fingers wrapped around a smoking cigar. You squinted.

Oh God, you thought. That’s Dutch van der Linde. You read about him in the New Hanover Gazette. Your mind ran miles per second as you put bits of information together. You had passed his face on wanted posters during your travels, passed Arthur’s too, lingering above a five-thousand dollar reward for one of the largest heists in Blackwater history. A heist that had seen a dozen or more people dead. And now you were in their camp, a camp that bounty hunters across several states would pay a pretty penny to find.

Those wanted faces turned to you. Arthur waved you over. Your legs grew heavy, rooting themselves to the ground. You had a decision to make.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan/reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan/yn #rdr2 ao3 #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic #reader insert #tlab

[dying-suffering-french-stalkers]

For the ship game: prime numbers for Lupin x Jigen!

HERE YOU GO GHOST, THIS WAS FIVE PAGES IN A GOOGLE DOC AND TOOK ME SEVERAL HOURS

Under a cut, allegedly, though mobile has been known to just IGNORE THAT. Sorry in advance if this gets goofed for anyone.

2) Who is always horny and will have sex at any time, in any place?

Lupin, obviously (and canonically). Just the horniest man you ever did see. Jigen knows what he wants and when he wants it, but he has difficulty keeping up with Don Juan Triumphant over there. Lupin is also far less picky about locations and times than Jigen is. Jigen still has a FEW standards, thank you, and also a stronger sense of self-preservation. Lupin sometimes tries to start shit in public or during a heist and Jigen is like “I REALLY, REALLY APPRECIATE THE SENTIMENT BUT CAN WE NOT.” The closest to public anything Jigen will put up with is bar bathroom/back-alley hookups, and he doesn’t really tend to do that with Lupin or Goemon since they have secondary locations far more suited to such activity (or at least the damn Fiat, if nothing else). That said, Jigen is a spiteful bastard and gets a huge kick out of riling Lupin up over the walkie-talkie during jobs. He is more than happy to get jumped by his boss after they make it out and secure the loot.

3) Who is more into taking showers/baths together? Who tries to make it relaxing and who tries to make it sexy time?

Honestly, while I can totally see Lupin and Jigen doing this with their other partners, I have a harder time imagining the two of them doing this together and I’m not sure why. I feel like these two on their own both like the privacy bathing gives them, whether it’s to clean wounds or decompress from a job.

On the occasions when they do bathe together, I feel like it’s an unspoken kind of thing, where the other person quietly slips in the tub/shower with them and they just don’t bother protesting. I think Lupin is more likely to join Jigen in his bathing, but if Jigen is sleepy enough or lonely enough he might do the same. There is a lot of mutual appreciation of scars. They’ve definitely smoked in the tub before (Intricate Rituals™). Lupin is probably more likely to get handsy, because Lupin, but two can play that game if Jigen is feeling it, and also Jigen gives Lupin a run for his money in the staring department. No hat to hide behind now.

Lupin has also 100% done the whole “Hey Jigen, do you know if—stop screaming, it’s me—do you know if we have any more instant dashi? Goemon’s gonna slice up the sofa if I ruin soba night again.”

5) Who sleeps on the couch when they get into a fight?

Jigen, but to be fair, he canonically sleeps on the couch most nights (possibly to keep an eye on the door, possibly because he knows that place, at least, is always “acceptable” for him to occupy). It’s an odd night if you don’t see Jigen out there with a glass and a bottle of scotch and an old movie on TV. The main difference is that if he and Lupin have been fighting, he won’t bother with the formality of a glass and the TV will be playing far louder or not at all.

7) [A] Who said “I love you” first? And [B] who ends their arguments in a fight with “Because I love you”?

I hate to take the coward’s way out here, but I think the answers are A) either one - depends on the headcanon/fic/version of the characters I’m feeling that day, and B) both.

For A, they’re both the sort of people to show their love—true love/affection, not just flirtation/infatuation, LUPIN—in action, not words. Lupin is a man of many words to a fault, generous with his verbal and physical affection, so Lupin has to find a way to make sure Jigen knows he means it and how he means it. He may rightly fear that Jigen won’t believe him (or else believe him but take it platonically) if he says “I love you” to his face, so first he’ll show him through every little action he can. Jigen is a man of few words to a fault, so saying personal stuff like that out loud is both a last resort and the point of no return. Getting him to say it at all, unambiguously, and while sober is like pulling teeth. Once one of them finally spits it out, though, I think the other is quick to reciprocate (again, if they manage to say it clearly and under good circumstances and not ambiguously/while drunk or wounded/etc. They’re both idiots and selective cowards so this is a big if). The mutual relief is palpable and immediately followed by sex, because they’re both (horny) idiots and selective cowards who do not want to talk about Emotions and Personal Things any more than strictly necessary.

For B, ohhhh man, if it isn’t that same emotional avoidance coming to bite them in the asses! Looks like talking about deep emotions is strictly necessary after all! You know it’s a Big Important Argument for them if this is what it comes to. This is going to tie in somewhat to the answers for 11, 17, and 23, so stay tuned. “Because I love you” coming from either of them should give the other pause, but if they are angry enough, they’re both quite likely to storm off after that declaration anyway. They’ll come back and have a real discussion later, but the shock or frustration of that arresting declaration dropped in the middle of an argument is something neither of them are great at dealing with. Hearing that from Jigen might be enough to stop Lupin in his tracks, but Lupin might also be so dead-set on something that he’ll steamroll right over it even if he knows he’ll regret it later. Hearing that from Lupin probably only makes Jigen angrier because of his awful self-esteem (see answers 11 and 23), and even if he’s been working on that, his instinct will be to snarl “Yeah, right” and storm out the door. I like to think that one day they are able to get to the heart of the argument sooner (because this is almost always it) and work on the behaviors that worry the other so much, but alas, they are a mess.

11) Who makes fun of the other for having a crush on them, and who has to remind them that they are in a relationship?

Once again, either of them depending on the day.

As you mentioned in your JiGoe post, Jigen says it partly because he thinks it’s funny (“You have a crush on me, Boss? Fuckin’ embarrassing”) but also because he’s fishing for validation. His self-esteem/confidence in anything outside his shooting skills is shit and he still can’t quite believe that Lupin isn’t lying/he hasn’t conned Lupin into something. This is rather overestimating his conning skills and underestimating his many good qualities, but, well, genuine, lasting affection is kinda new for him. Much to Jigen’s annoyance, Lupin figures out exactly what Jigen’s up to after the first few times and answers him seriously (and positively) instead of continuing the “joke”. Lupin loses patience for this particular tactic over time but I like to think that Jigen finally begins believing in the affection, too, so it comes up less and less and one day Jigen might actually play the quip straight without the self-deprecation. Ideally he would just take the damn compliment, but it’s LupJig and banter is one of their love languages.

When Lupin says it, he typically is playing the quip straight and fondly giving Jigen shit for showing an Emotion and motherFUCKER I just realized Jigen could probably be considered a tsundere. I hate this. ANYWAY. Jigen then immediately snarks back that yes, Lupin, considering we’ve been travelling the world together and actively fucking for X years, it’d be damn awkward if I didn’t by now.

13) Who initiates duets? and who is the better singer?

Lupin absolutely initiates duets, or rather, he tries to; whether or not Jigen actually chimes in is another matter entirely. Lupin is also the better singer by far (when he’s sober). He loves singing along to pop and rock in the car (“This is the reason God invented America!”).

Much as it would please me personally to give Jigen a smooth operatic baritone, there’s no way in hell he sounds good after smoking a pack a day for twenty-something years. I think Jigen can carry a tune and he’s a decent hummer and whistler, but his singing voice isn’t spectacular.

Lupin occasionally succeeds in getting Jigen to join him in car karaoke, though as in all things, Lupin is much louder and more impassioned. Jigen frequently hums along under his breath, though, and Lupin loves hearing Jigen’s a cappella renditions of classical music (complete with hand motions).

When Queen starts becoming popular, car singalongs become much more involved because it’s MY silly headcanon and You Are Not Immune To Queen. Jigen cried the first time he heard “Bohemian Rhapsody” and he will kill Lupin if he ever tells Goemon or, God forbid, Fujiko. When the four of them are in the car it’s a full-on Wayne’s World headbanging party. (Pops is the drunk guy they pick up along the way. Also, seeing Payless Shoe Source in this clip dealt me psychic damage.)

Lupin and Jigen (and Goemon) are the living embodiment of the drunk friends singing “Sweet Caroline” post, and Jigen is specifically this version of “Sweet Caroline”.

17) Who is more protective?

THAT IS THE QUESTION, HUH, GHOST? Jigen’s job and, to a certain degree, raison d’être is protecting Lupin, but (to cheat slightly and quote your own DM to me), if you think Lupin won’t raze everything to the ground to keep Jigen (and the others) safe, you don’t know him at all. They are this meme to the deepest of faults. They are both so desperately afraid of losing what they have (and in Lupin’s case, this is tinged with a bonus, even more concerning “what is his”) that they will go full self-sacrificing, scorched-earth policy. This is, in fact, my favorite reason for Lupin to do the worst thing he does: fake his own death to protect his partners. Lupin never stops to think that maybe, JUST MAYBE, he should trust his partners to fake grief and keep the secret long enough for whoever’s on their tail to give up or let their guard slip. Lupin is willing to hurt them in an effort to protect them, so in that way, I suppose Lupin is the “most” “protective”. Jigen’s self-abasement to the point of unhesitating and perhaps even hasty sacrifice is painful, too, but Jigen would never dare go to the same level of deception (except in Goodbye, Partner, apparently? But 1) I haven’t watched it yet and 2) while awful, I still feel like fake betrayal pales in comparison to very convincingly (AND MAYBE REPEATEDLY) faked death).

19) Who drives and who has the window seat?

They split driving duties, but Lupin genuinely loves driving and Jigen is more than happy to prop his feet on the Fiat’s dashboard and smoke or sleep the hours away.

23) Who thinks they are not good enough for the other’s love? and who’s more afraid of losing the other? Who thinks they keep messing up, only for the other to tell them they don’t need to worry?

HERE WE GO AGAIN!!! I think the answer to all of these is ultimately Jigen, but that’s not to say Lupin doesn’t share the exact same worries.

Jigen has a very difficult time believing that his partners’ love is genuine, and since Lupin is the one he knew first, that’s where it first manifests. Jigen has had very, very few good romantic connections in his life (if any). He doesn’t know what Lupin could possibly see in an older, prickly hired killer with a drinking problem and a head full of demons. He’s willing to believe that Lupin keeps him around for his skills, for protection, and for sex, sure, but anything past that? Doubtful. This ties into the other two parts of the question: Jigen is afraid that if he fails in his sharpshooting or his protection, he will be cut out of the gang, or worse, Lupin will end up dead because Jigen slipped up. As mentioned in question 17, Jigen cannot bear to lose Lupin and he would never forgive himself if he believed it was somehow his fault. Accordingly, Jigen takes “failure” that exceeds his usual margin of error very seriously in the early days. Later, he is better about this, but the worst-case scenario still stands.

Lupin, on the other hand, has had plenty of romantic connections, some good, some bad, though it is perhaps telling that Fujiko is his longest romantic relationship other than Jigen. He is afraid that if he doesn’t put on the world’s greatest show at all times, no one will give a rat’s ass about some scrawny grandson of an old French thief (or the perhaps unwanted/disliked son of a ruthless crime lord, because I love that fanon for Lupin the Second). He must live up to and indeed surpass the previous Lupins, he must shower his partners in money and adventure, he must always, always come out on top no matter how south the plan goes, or else what is the point of him? It takes time for him to turn his persona off for more than a few seconds, to let the quieter, sometimes contemplative side that slips through the cracks come to rest out in the open. Years down the road, Jigen finally gets up the courage and the words to tell Lupin that he would love him no matter what he did or where he went, even if that was nothing and nowhere. And again, see question 17 re: losing Jigen.

29) Who does some crazy stunt to try and impress the other and who ends up driving them to the emergency room after it backfires?

Lupin is by far the most guilty of this. He’s constantly pulling dumb shit, whether that be for World-Renowned Gentleman Thief reasons or just He May Be Stupid reasons. Case in point: the tunnel scene in The First, after which Jigen was duly impressed. Fortunately for Lupin, Lady Luck must be head over heels for him because the bastard keeps surviving, but sometimes even she can’t save him from medical consequences. Jigen bulk-ordered “Stupid Hurts” band-aids specifically for Lupin. Jigen’s bad choices are more likely to literally backfire on him, but Goemon more than makes up for Jigen’s slack in the Crazy Stunt department.

#I CARE THEY #hope this is comprehensible bc i honestly cannot tell #i have many thoughts on these two human disasters #lupin iii #jigen #asks #the-golden-ghost #long post #meta #I GUESS #can you believe i wrote five pages of meta about 1970s comedy anime characters? fucking hell. i love this fandom. #ship meme

[egcdeath]

wrong place, wrong time

summary: a drunken mishap leads you to reconcile with someone from your past. (based off this prompt)

pairing: andy barber x reader 

word count: 2.1k

author’s note: this fic has been sitting in my drafts, half finished, for like months. i hope you enjoy!

warnings: extremely brief mention of cheating

“I just think things would be better if we… you know, saw other people,” Oliver explained through the phone. 

You sighed dejectedly into the microphone, before deciding to hang up, and aggressively tossing your phone onto the leather seat next to you. You’d already had a shit day at work, and you really didn’t think that you could handle all of this today. Especially considering that you were almost certain that there was the hint of a feminine giggle in the background of that call.

You’d been expecting this for a while, your relationship with Oliver had been falling apart- slowly but surely- for a few months now, and he was ‘working late’ way too many nights for you not to be the slightest bit suspicious. But it still hurt, you were now single, and you’d essentially wasted a precious year of your life with a douchebag who ended up leaving you anyway.

You pressed your foot on the gas, and began your drive back home, before telling yourself fuck it, and deciding to turn onto a side road so you could head to your local pub. 

-----

Several drinks later, you were extremely drunk. From that point on, everything was a bit of a blur.

You stumbled out of the bar (against your own will? You vaguely remember someone telling you that you needed to leave), sat in the back of an Uber (how much did you tell them? Probably too much), arrived at your home (but why weren’t your keys working?).

Things were a bit less blurry here. You can remember yourself repeatedly stabbing your keys into the door, and when that didn’t seem to work, deciding to hoist yourself over your fence, and get in through the back.

During this whole ordeal, you tripped over a seat on the patio, losing a shoe in doing so, and nearly fell into a pool, since when did my house have a pool? You ignored that thought, then opened the back door, getting in with no resistance. 

You hobbled inside, closed the door behind you, then stumbled up the stairs, before finally finding your (?) bedroom. You flopped down in bed before realizing that you really needed to pee, and as you went to go find your bathroom, everything seemed to go black. 

----

You woke up extremely disoriented in a vaguely familiar bathtub. It faintly smelled of pine, and possibly a hint of vanilla. The tub had a modern and sleek look, yet appeared to be as sterile as a hospital room. This was absolutely not your home. But it possibly belonged to someone you knew. The tiles lining the wall did seem to ring a bell somewhere deep in the foggy abyss of your hungover brain. 

As you sat up, you groaned due to the consistent pulsing in your head. This had to be one of the worst hangovers you’d had in a while, and you were lucky that you didn’t lean over and empty the contents of your stomach right that instant.

“Stupid fucking Y/N,” you whispered to yourself. “You’re lucky all of your organs are still intact.” After stating this, you glanced down at your torso just to make sure. But a larger question still remained, where were you? Did you hook up with someone? Did you just randomly break into someone’s home? That’s a little ridiculous. Who would do something like that?

Apparently, drunk you would. In the process of exiting the tub, you concluded that you absolutely were in someone elses' gargantuan of a home, and that that person was undoubtedly down the hall, taking a phone call. Also, you were definitely missing a shoe.

You glared at yourself in the mirror, smeared makeup on your face, hair that looked so frizzy that you may as well have been struck by lightning, and of course the overwhelming scent of dry liquor that seemed to be seeping out of your skin. You turned on the sink and splashed your face, trying to completely wake up, and to partially figure out if this was real life, or just a horrible dream. 

“Fuck!” you exclaimed out loud to yourself. How would you even get out of this situation alive? Perhaps you could find a window to jump out of. No, too dangerous. Hide in the bathroom until the man leaves? Well, everyone has to go to the bathroom at some point. Leave without being spotted? Mhm, very likely. Go talk to the homeowner? It doesn’t seem like you have any other option right now. You internally screamed at yourself for being so reckless, especially having gone through all of this drama for a guy who didn’t deserve one ounce of your attention.

You slipped off your remaining shoe, then slowly made your way out of the bathroom, peeking behind the doorway to see if the coast was clear, and trying to plan your explanation in the process. As you peered around, searching for the quickest and easiest exit, you realized just how familiar the home was. But what really did it for you was a painting on the wall. 

This was Andy Barber’s home. The same man you hooked up with a few times before ghosting. You sighed exasperatedly at your own poor decision making for what felt like the millionth time that morning.

You had to get the hell out of here. Fast. Lost shoe be damned.

You somewhat remembered the floor plan, so managing to get out unnoticed began to seem just a tad bit more possible. You began to jog it down the hall, trying not to be too heavy footed as you went, in the event that Andy was standing in the eyeline of one of the open doors. Unfortunately for you, in the midst of your beeline down the hall, you were spotted. 

“What the..? You know what Lynn, I’ll call you back in a bit.”

“I can explain! Don’t like… kill me or something. I promise you that this is just a big misunderstanding,” you were speaking without really processing anything that you were saying. You turned to face the man, and couldn’t help but to smirk a bit at the sight of him. You forgot just how attractive he was, with a full beard, fluffy hair, and soft blue eyes that seemed to be boring straight into your soul from across the room. Not to mention his sculpted body, which you swore you could make out beneath his sweatpants, and worn white shirt. Really, Y/N? First you ghost a man, break into his home a year later, and now you’re objectifying him? 

You moved towards the door and began to speak again, your words flowing out at a million miles per minute, “Uhm, so long story short, I basically got really drunk last night, and I thought your house was mine, so I kinda broke in. But I’ll be seeing myself out now,” You gave a curt smile, and looked towards the stairs. “Before I go, any chance that you’ve seen my left shoe somewhere around here?”

It was clear that Andy was very confused, but as you read his face, you could see that he was far more intrigued than angry. “Hey, not so fast.” He approached you quickly, his eyebrows lifting in surprise, and his mouth gaping open slightly. “No fuckin’ way. Y/N?”

You scratched the back of your head awkwardly and nodded, “yeah.” 

“You’re not getting off the hook that easily. Lucky for you, I was about to make breakfast, aaaand I’m not totally opposed to being joined,” he gave you a genuine smile, and a playful little shrug. 

“That’s fine with me but- this sounds kinda strange- can I use your shower first?”

“Go right ahead. Mi casa su casa, right? I mean, kinda sounds like that’s what you were thinking last night,” Andy peered at you inquisitively at this, “I’m just kidding. Feel free to use anything you need.”

You couldn’t even blame Andy for his passive aggression, but that didn’t stop you from sulking the whole way back into the bathroom.

----

“I forgot how good your water pressure is,” you announced while coming down the stairs, clad in a college hoodie that you’d found in the depths of Andy’s closet, and shorts that were just a tad too large for you.

“Thanks, I guess?” Andy flipped a pancake, then turned to get a good look at you. 

“You’re welcome. It smells so good down here,” you slipped into a barstool at his granite island, and observed him while he cooked, “so... you still live here alone?” You asked while you were passed a mug of coffee.

“Well, yeah. I mean that’s kind of what happens after your wife and son die.”

“Uhm.. sorry. For bringing that up again,” you glanced down awkwardly at your dark drink. 

“It’s okay, they’ve been gone for a while,” he sat down at his seat, setting down a plate of food for you and himself. “What’ve you been up to? Apart from breaking and entering, of course.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” you began, cutting into a syrup-soaked pancake. “You’re no saint either. I can’t think of anyone in their right mind who would gladly break bread with someone who drunkenly broke into their home.”

“That’s fair,” Andy stated, almost dismissively. “But it's not like we’re total strangers. We have history.”

You scoffed at this, “like hell we do,” you muttered. “Anyway, things with me have been pretty boring. Same job. I had a boyfriend, but he just dumped me like, 12 hour ago. I’m pretty sure that he’s been cheating on me for like, the past four months.”

“That sucks,” Andy commented, shoveling a piece of pancake into his mouth. 

“Yeah, it does. How about you?”

“You know, same old. Still an ADA, still getting messages from random people about that trial, and of course, still perpetually lonely.”

“By no means do I mean to impede, but maybe you’d be a little less lonely if you let people in,” you suggested, looking up from your food to Andy, whose face gave away the offense he was feeling, “I said maybe.”

“What do you mean?” He questioned, brows furrowing.

“Come on, Andrew. You know exactly what I mean. Like with us, I thought everything was going perfectly well, until I was half asleep and you were telling me that you weren’t ready to commit. Literally moments after you were balls-deep in me.”

“Don’t call me that, Y/N,” Andy squinted at you in agitation. “Is that why you stopped picking up my calls?”

“What do you think?”

He sighed softly, “If it’s any consolation, I’ve been trying to do better. I talk to a… counselor… every now and then. Everything’s just been different ever since they passed, you know? It’s hard to form connections after your most intimate ones disappear in the blink of an eye.”

You frowned a bit at the man, and set down your fork. “I get it. I’m sorry.”

“Do you, though? Get it?”

“Not really. I was just trying to be supportive,” you turned a bit in your seat to get a better view of Andy. “I just wonder if we had this conversation a year ago if you and I would be in a better position now. I really liked you a lot.”

Andy was silent for a moment, and observed you pensively. “Let’s try again, then. It seems like you and I both are ready for something new.”

“Oh Andy,” you rubbed the back of your neck anxiously. “I just got out of a relationship less than a day ago.”

“Then we can take this, whatever it might end up being, slow. It would be nice to have a friend around who doesn’t just want to talk about work, and tell me that they’re sorry for my loss.”

You nodded, “I’ll probably need a shoulder to cry on at some point sooner than later.”

“So... friends?”

“Friends,” you agreed with a smile and a lift of your shoulders. 

Part of you hoped that maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something great.

#andy barber x reader #defending jacob #chris evans x reader #andy barber x you #hey i wrote that lol

[tydur]

'𝙊𝙧 𝙉𝙖𝙝'; 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙨

꧁𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 '𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐡' 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐧𝐝꧂

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: nsfw under the cut✨ 

writing this made me realize how wack these lyrics are sdnjagfb

ᴅᴀɪᴄʜɪ: 

“You gonna run it for these hunnids girl or nah? Show me is you really 'bout your money girl or nah? Don't play with a boss, girl take it off Take it for a real one You gonna get it all“

mmmmm sugardaddychi makes me throb <333333

he is the type of sugar daddy to spoil you to hell and back as he should

and then he also gives u a monthly allowance... which brings me to my next point

he’ll give u dat monthly allowance and then you’ll go to the mall and head into victorias secret and get some lingerie you know will drive him up the walls

then into your walls

sorry. sugar daddy Daichi just makes me pulse

and w said new pieces of clothing (can it actually be qualified as that lmaoao) 

you make your way to daichis

mans is there PREPARED

and you get in, set your stuff down and make your way to Daichi's room to see him sitting on the edge of the bed in only basketball shorts

im drooling

“come to daddy, baby”

IM DROOLING

you sit in his lap, perched up as he places little kisses all over your neck

“show me what you got, princess”

and so you do and mans wastes NO time as soon as all your clothes are off, lingerie an exception ofc, he pulls you down to his lap and pulls down his shorts

“you look so good, sweetheart. daddy thinks that that was money well spent”

you basically drool all over him at the use of his nickname like me

pulls your panties to the side, “im gonna fuck you with this set on, okay, darling? you ready for daddy’s cock?”

we stan the consent in this household

you nod, whimpering as he pushes into your soaking pussy

“there you go, baby. take my cock so well. i want you to fuck yourself on daddy’s cock- go ahead baby.”

and obviously u get your hips moving swEetheart

cause whatever daddy says, is what u do

omg i am going to get cAught up- moving oN

ᴛᴇʀᴜsʜɪᴍᴀ:

“Do you like the way I flick my tongue or nah? You can ride my face until you're drippin' cum Can you lick the tip then throat the dick or nah? Can you let me stretch that pussy out or nah?“

awww fuck

mr. piercing back at it again

makes my pussy throb just thinking about that pierced tongue between my thighs

so i thought these lyrics were perfect for him tbh

also for me it is canon that this mother fuckin lizard bitch has a big dick dont @ me

so when yall fuck u get s t r e t c h e d

like i just did w that word

so clever

anywho

another point that i have to cover cause of the lyrics is when ur giving him a bj the bitch does not HESITATE to fuck your throat w NO warning

you’ll quickly pull away, coughing and trying to catch ur breath

you slap his thigh and scold him to not do it again

but guess what bitch

he does it again

sigh

n e wayz

mans eats u out w EXPERTISE

is that the word

but he is so good at it??????

kinda makes u worried why hes a god at it-

but u are NOT complaining once that tongue flicks against ur clit WOOH

his tongue piercing makes everything 10x better

and he knows how to use that thing

but he also loves teasing u w it ugh

mother fucker

makes you cum against his face at least twice before yall get to the actual fucking

and when he pulls back his face is covered in your juices and you get so embarrassed, looking away and trying to cover your face and close your legs

but uh uh

he thinks its so hot lord help him

makes you look at him,

“fuck, you’re so fucking hot baby. imma need you to cum on my dick next time tho”

n e x t

ᴋᴜʀᴏᴏ:

“Can you really take dick or nah? Can I bring another bitch or nah? Is you with the shits or nah? Or nah, or nah“

hyena back at it againnnnn w the bed headdd <333

ok this is him wanting a threesome w another girl as the lyrics state dumbass madeleine

anywho

its mostly just because the thought of you on top of another girl makes his cock do a 180

i DiD a FuLl 180, CrAzY

yall im-

n e wayz

its a mutual decision, obvi, and u think a threesome w another girl is extremely hot

tho u may get jealous but that's not the point here

extremely hot

so yall go to the bar

and try to scout someone out

and lorddd do u find someone

gorgeousss and her body was like amazing

i think u were staring more than kuroo was tbh jhdhefhyg

so u go up to her, all flirty and whatev and start chatting her up

then eventually kuroo comes as well

mY dirty mind stOp

and then yall tell her that u want a threesome

shes obvi like dUh cause yall are bootiful

so threesome insues

idk im tired do i actually have to write the threesome

#badwritertingz

just wanna watch bnha but nOOOO im behind on my writing

oMG I NEEDA STOP

this is who yall like ?????

so yall get back to the hotel and kuroo just sits down on the chair beside the bed and ur like ?????

to which he says- he saYS hes just gonna watch and ur like 0.0

but who are u to complain w this girl all up on u <3333333

so basically just half the time u and the girl go at it while kuroo just jerks off and praises the both of u sigh

and then he FINALLY joins in

and that when the real fun ensues

ok that's it brain not working im still stuck up on the first two ndmduhjasdjyg

yall i gave up on the end im SO SORRY FORGIVE ME BABES

#i am so tired #haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu!! #haikyuu smut #hq #haikyū!! #haikyuu imagines #hq daichi #daichi sawamura smut #daichi x reader #daichi smut #daichi sawamura #terushima yuuji #terushima headcanons #yūji terushima smut #yūji terushima #yuuji terushima #kuroo smut #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou

[winchest09]

Life for Rent - Chapter Twenty Seven

Pairing: Mobster!Dean Winchester x Escort!Reader

Universe: AU

Summary: Y/N can be anyone for a price. Her life is ruled by contracts, men and money. It’s all she knows; countless identities, seedy clients, and strict regulations. She has to obey the rules, but her past is full of secrets and her future is resting in the wrong hands. But will her next client be the same as the rest?

Rating: 18+ W/C: 5216

Warnings: (spoilers) Angst, violence, threats, death threats, talks of death, imprisonment, suicidal thoughts, violent outbreak, swearing, blackmail, deceit, double crossing, guns, trafficking.

PLEASE HEED THESE. IF ANY OF THEM ARE TRIGGERS, DO NOT READ.

A/N: So...three chapters left after this one...are you ready? ;) 

Special thanks to this absolute babe @katehuntington​ <3  My worldie, my bestie, my beta whose reaction to this always has me beaming, without her, i’d go insane. She’s my cheerleader <3

I hope you guys enjoy this add! Thanks everyone for sticking with me and this fic <3

Love you all.

xox

– I absolutely adore your reactions to this, so please if you do read, reblog, comment or send me an ask and let me know how you feel! It means the world to me.

Life for Rent Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Let me know what you think!

——————————————–

<– Chapter Twenty Six

——————————————–

Do it.

Those words echoed around Dean’s head as he stared down at the woman who had managed to fool him entirely. Not again, not her, not Y/N. After everything they had been through, after what he had done for her; what he felt for her. He didn’t understand how she could do this to him. He’d given her everything, he’d allowed her to be a part of his family and yet here she was, on her knees waiting for him to end it all. Never in his life had he come across someone that was so accepting of death. She wasn’t pleading her case or begging to be spared. Neither was she making excuses for what she had done. 

His hand shook as he felt the weight of her forehead pressed against the muzzle of his gun. Her eyes closed as she waited for him to pull the trigger. Dean had always been so collected in these situations, taking the shot without hesitation, but staring down at the woman who had invaded his heart, he lost that impulse. Turmoil rolled through his mind as he fought with his instinct, with the way he had been raised. A traitor’s life is ended. No ifs, no buts, no maybes.

Dean didn’t move to swipe at the tears of regret that stained his cheeks, he didn’t blink away the pain that was captured in his green orbs; he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the escort who had threatened his entire family. She had pulled the wool over his eyes, had been the wolf in sheep's clothing this entire time. He’d let her into his home, into his bed; he’d allowed her to fill his head with an endless stream of unachievable dreams through her sweet words. Dean thought she was different, that he could finally break down the wall around his heart and allow himself to be happy. He was a fool. 

There was no excusing what she had done, not now his family was in danger, their lives threatened. She was a traitor, and traitors needed to be put down. His lips curled in a slight snarl as his jaw clenched, tears of frustration coming together at the end of his chin. His thumb steadily made its way to the hammer of the gun, pulling it slowly back, hearing the chilling click of the readed shot. The pad of his forefinger twitched over the trigger, the tip pressing harder against the metal ring as he made his decision. 

No ifs, no buts, no maybes. 

With a loud echo, his shot rang out. The noise ringing through his ears as fresh tears caraded down his cheeks, his weapon hot in his hand. He didn’t make a sound, his eyes now hazy with unshed sadness as a vice gripped at his heart. He really wished it hadn’t come to this, maybe it had just proved to him that he wasn’t allowed to give himself to anyone, that he would be better off on his own. With a short sniff, he moved to tuck the gun into the waistband of his jeans. The sight in front of him was getting too much for him to bear, he needed to get out, he had more important matters to attend too. 

The broken Winchester marched out of his room, slamming the door shut behind him before he turned to lock it with his key. Shutting out his darkness, his shame and the woman who had been the cause of it all. He frustratedly slammed his fist against the wood, his angered roar tearing from his throat before he pushed himself to storm down the hall, trying somehow to formulate a plan in his mind to protect the people he cares for most. 

Hurriedly pulling his phone from his pocket, Dean’s shaking thumb quickly dialled Sam’s number as he put his cell to his ear. He paced down the hall, one hand combing through his hair as time seemed to slow. 

“Pick up, dammit,” Dean growled down the line, his heart pounding in his chest as the dial tone echoed in his ear. Each ring longer than the last. “Pick the fuck up, Sammy.”

“Dean?” 

The relief that flooded his being at the sound of his brother’s voice felt like ice on fire. 

“Turn around, get home. Now!” he barked, rushing down the stairs towards the foyer, his eyes scanning every doorway in case of a possible ambush. 

“What’s happened?” 

“Just do it, Sam,” Dean snapped, “It’s a trap.” As soon as the words left his lips he felt the anger surge through his veins. 

The older Winchester made his way to the windows next to the front door, gingerly using his fingers to peel back the voils in the windows, peering to see if anyone was coming for him. 

“We know.” Those two words that Sam uttered made Dean frown, his gaze breaking away from the outside, “Charlie figured out it was a ruse a few moments ago, we’re setting up a diversion so they don’t follow us home.”

“Good,” a silent sigh of relief left him, his eyes squeezing shut briefly as he was thankful for his brother's safety. Dean strode into the living room, his mind trying to formulate any kind of strategy to keep his family safe from harm. “Watch your backs, go the long way home, keep your hand on your gun at all times.” 

“What’s going on?” 

Dean bit his bottom lip, his tongue running over his teeth as he resisted the urge to spill everything there and then. “Just get back in one piece,” he instructed, “both of you.” 

Immediately ending the call, his next thoughts were on Benny and Cas, the two of the best soldiers he had in this raging war of dominating gangs. With his phone back to his ear, he listened to the agonisingly slow dial tone as he walked around to the pool table, his fingers running slowly along the wooden frame.

“Come on,” he muttered under his breath, another long ring echoing in his ears. “Come fuckin’ on,” he growled, his eyes pinched closed as he tapped his digits against the wood. “Dammit Benny.”

He couldn’t prevent the worry that ate away at his stomach, the way his heart thumped harder in his chest and the panic that tightened his torso. Dean needed to keep a rational head, his friend may have not heard his phone plus there was always Cas. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he dialled another number and waited impatiently for him to answer. 

“Answer the phone, answer the phone,” he chanted, his fist curling into a tight ball tighter at the sound of each ring. 

I’m sorry, this caller is unavailable. Please leave your message after the tone.  

Before he could react, his phone pinged with the sound of an incoming message, one that his thumb was quick to open when he saw it was from Benny. Even though he thought he was prepared for whatever was in the message, he still felt like he had been punched in the gut when he opened the text. There, tied to two chairs, blindfolded and gagged were his men, his best friends. Their faces were beaten and bloody, their shirts stained with crimson. 

“NO!” Dean screamed, throwing his phone to the floor in a blast of rage. He was too late, Nick and Alistair had gotten to his family and he didn’t know how long he had until they were dead.

He couldn’t contain his anger as his torment roared from his chest, his hands breaking and destroying everything in their reach. Picture frames; shelves were ripped from the walls, Dean was on a destructive warpath and nothing was safe. He surrounded himself in glass, in broken porcelain and tainted memories, the noises that left his lips were nothing short of animalistic. He didn’t stop to take a breath, he didn’t falter as he tipped over a bookcase and sent many works of fiction scattering across the floor. He spotted the rows of pool cues resting against the wall, and one by one tore them from their fixtures and beat them against the table, splinters of wood flying through the air. He broke every single one of them, leaving his bloody hands holding nothing but the broken remains of his rampage. His eyes burned embers as his face wore a snarl, his nose flared as he looked for the next perfect thing to destroy. Because that was all he was good for. 

“What the hell happened here?!” Sam’s voice cut through the red mist that had descended over him, his head snapping over to where his sibling and Charlie were standing, visibly confused. 

With his chest heaving, Dean dropped the broken pieces of wood to the floor as he walked over to where the two were standing, pulling his little brother into a crushing hug. He could feel Sam hesitate for a moment before he returned the embrace, the action calming his enraged spirit, relief flooding the fire. Thank god he was safe. 

After a few drawn out seconds, he pulled back, clapping the shoulder of the taller Winchester before he headed towards the one thing he didn’t destroy, his alcohol. He needed the burn of whiskey in his throat for the news he was about to tell them, the liquor in his system to numb the sting of the past hour. 

-

Dean’s bedroom was still. The dust had settled on the broken scene; on the shattered glass, the split wood and the broken body that was still rooted to the spot. There was not a sound to be heard, the screams were long gone and so were the uneven sobs from the woman who had torn his world down around him. 

It was then that Y/N heaved in a shaky breath, her eyes still clenched tightly shut as she hadn’t dared to open them. She had never expected to still be kneeling in this spot with air in her lungs and a beat to her heart, yet here she was. Her ears ringing with the sound of the gunshot, her body tense with fear as she didn’t know whether she should be grateful that she was still alive, or dreadful because of it. When she had heard Dean pull back the hammer of the gun, she was at peace. She accepted that this was the end of her story, but he chose not to finish it. He chose to aim the gun and shoot it in another direction, leaving her in dismay. 

Y/N didn’t understand his actions. She deserved the bullet that Dean was going to shoot into her head. As far as the escort was concerned, she shouldn’t be here right now, she should be long gone and away from this world, away from the torment and this horrendous life. She hadn’t expected him to keep her alive and she would never forget the look he gave her when she fed him the truth. The way his eyes grew cold upon the realisation that she had betrayed him; it solidified her view that there was no coming back from this. Her thoughts were chasing their metaphorical tail as she went around in circles. There was nowhere to run, no way to forget what she had done.

Her body was still shaking as she gained the courage to open her eyes, bracing herself to cast her gaze over the damage she had caused.  The room was a mess, his belongings destroyed and it was all because of her. Her lips trembled as a warm tear dropped onto her pale cheek. It was then that she looked upon his bedroom door, the barrier she heard him lock with a faint click as she was dazed on her knees. Y/N knew there was no point in trying to escape, she wouldn’t get very far even if she tried. Dean would most certainly see her leaving his manor and if on the slightest chance she did get away, The Master would find her. 

The Master.

She couldn’t leave this house, she didn’t want to subject herself to the hours of torment she was going to face in isolation. The humiliation, the beatings, the assault. Her body was fractured enough as it was, her wings had been snapped and her spirit had been broken long before Dean had found the light in her again. But like a long burning candle, her flame had burned out, she simply had nothing left to give. 

With quaking legs she stood, her cheeks still warm from the overflowing shame she felt, as she turned around in the spot she was standing. On the floor she spotted Dean’s clothes from which he had changed out of, the clothes in which he was teaching her how to defend herself from the horrors of the world. If only he had known then, he wouldn’t have wasted his time or energy on her. Taking a sharp breath, the defeated woman took an unbalanced step towards the mobster’s bed, her forehead slightly creasing as her mind plagued her with a question. Where did the bullet go? 

She knew it didn’t matter, it was just a piece of metal to anybody else, but to her it meant something, to her that was the thing that was meant to end her life. So, with curious eyes and a determined head, she calculated the shot. Casting her vision over the room as she scanned every possible place it could be. It was then that she saw it, the small, circular entrance that had been created on the side of Dean’s luxury mattress. 

Y/N took a deep breath, her feet taking her the small distance needed to clamber onto his bed, eyes fixated on the hole that was meant to be in her. With slim fingers and a bit of patience, she located the small metal casing and pulled it out. Bringing it up to her eye level, she rolled it between her forefinger and thumb. She could just throw it to one side and be done with it yet, instead, she allowed it to fall into her palm as she curled her hand around it, squeezing tightly. It was a stark reminder of what her life had led too.

As the day bled into nightfall, Y/N was going under fast when she was desperate for somebody to hear her. But she came to realise that there was no one left to change the course of action. She didn’t mean for any of this to happen, she didn’t want to break his trust or his heart, she was just so terrified of any consequences. For a month, the escort had been living a life that she had longed for since she was six years old, a life without rules or chains, a life where she was free to breathe. Dean eased her suffering, yet he could only mask her agony for so long. 

Flickers of faint moonlight caught her attention, her face slightly angling towards the broken glass on the floor next to the bed. Y/N almost felt as though they were calling to her, one shattered object to another. She gracefully bent down, her fingers tracing the shards that were scattered amongst photo frames. It was then she saw Dean’s warm smile staring up at her, his eyes crinkled and light as he stood next to his family. Her hand hovered above it, the pads of her fingertips gently caressing his face on the picture. He had already given her so much more than she could have dreamed and for that she would be ever thankful. Now, it was about time she took matters into her own hands. If he couldn’t stop the horror that she had been living, then she would. 

It was bound to end in blood and tears. 

-

“Sammy, sit down.” Deans instruction was calm, one finger lifting off the glass of his whiskey filled tumbler to point at the couch. “You gonna join him, Charlie?”

“I think I should leave you guys to it,” the redhead mumbled, hooking her laptop bag over her shoulder before turning to move out of the room. “I’ll be in the dining room if you need me.” 

“I need you to look into The Hemlock, Alistair and Nick. I need everything that you can find. Surveillance, movements, birthdays, I don’t give a fuck. I want it all.” Dean didn’t bark his orders but the authority in his tone made Charlie instantly nod in submission. 

“I’ll get right on it.”

Sam scoffed as he watched their technical right hand walk away, his head shaking causing his brunette locks to frame his face. He was visibly perplexed by his brother’s sudden change in demeanour. 

“What the hell is going on, Dean?” he questioned, one large hand gesturing to the rest of the room. “You’ve snapped every single pool cue we own, the room is a complete mess and where the hell is Y/N?!”

His voice rose at the end of his burning question, one that made the older Winchester’s burning eyes snap to his. With a shake of his head, the defeated mobster took down the rest of his liquor in one hit, hissing as it stung his throat. 

“Benny and Cas have been captured and Y/N... She’s locked away,” was his simple response as he turned to grab for the whiskey bottle, the remainder of the alcohol calling to him. 

“How?!” Sam's brow knitted together. “And what the fuck do you mean ‘locked away’?!”

The news Dean was about to share felt like a hard pill to swallow. He still couldn’t believe it, he didn’t want to, but it was the bitter truth. “She betrayed us, Sammy. betrayed me...that’s how.” 

He scoffed harshly as he brought the liquor with him, sitting opposite his little brother on the couch. “Lied to our faces, just like fucking Cassie.”

Sam watched as Dean refilled his glass before placing the bottle on the still intact table, the gears turning in his head as he tried to understand. “You’re not making any sense. Wh--”

“- You were right, okay?!” the mobster snapped, rubbing at his forehead frustratingly with his palm. “I shouldn’t have hired her, I should have never stepped foot in that bastard’s place.” With a deep breath, he took a moment to calm the rage that was flowing through his veins like molten lava. “Nick, Y/N... They have been working together to bring us to our knees.” 

“What?” Sam urged, not quite believing what he was hearing. She was part of The Hemlock, how could she be working for the enemy?

“That’s right, she told me, Sam,” Dean disclosed, a disapproving tone laced in his words. “Judging from what she said, I can only assume that the plan for today was meant to be our undoing.” 

It was that statement that caught the younger Winchester’s attention, “What did she say?”

“What does it matter? Benny and Cas are in danger, Sam. That’s our priority right now,” the mobster stressed, his voice gruff with emotion.

“We have other men, we’ll send them ahead to scope the place out but we don’t even know what we’re walking into right now. We’ve got to be smart about this.” 

Dean knew his sibling was right, yet the feeling of losing his blood brothers because of one stupid mistake was more than he could bare. “I can’t lose more family, Sammy. I just can’t.”

“And we won’t, not if we play this smart,” his little brother advised, sincerity lacing his tone. “Now I need to know what Y/N said. Her exact words.” 

“I helped plan it,” Dean fired back, shaking his head as he clicked his tongue against his teeth. “That it wasn’t just her but The Master and Nick.”

“Wait,” Sam held up his hand,  “The Master?”

Dean threw his head back against the couch and sighed deeply, his forefinger and thumb pinching across his eyes and nose. He still felt like his head was swimming with information, that he couldn’t focus on one particular thing. When he woke up that morning, he was happy and was ready to take on the world. Now he was back to square one, on the break of losing the family who he loves yet again by his own stupid actions. 

“Alistair,” Dean sighed, his focus on the ceiling. “That’s the name his girls call him.” 

“That’s seriously messed up.” Sam grimaced, shaking his head as he stared at his brother. 

“So he’s into pet names,” Dean shrugged while he lifted his head off the couch with annoyance. “You’re missing the entire point of this.”

Sam just huffed, his tongue poking in his cheek as he looked over at his older brother. It didn’t take him long to look at the bigger picture here. Unlike the man in front of him, he could see the situation clearly as he wasn’t being driven by his raw emotion like Dean was. There was a lot more to this situation, it went a lot deeper than just Y/N double crossing them. Sam had suspicions about her behavior since he had spoken to her after playing pool, and especially after the previous night when a phone call had interrupted them, but his doubtful thoughts were never about her dedication to her job and his family, it was about her past and what she had been experiencing. 

“I don’t think I am, Dean,” Sam announced, lacing his fingers together in front of him as he rested his arms against his knees. 

“Y/N betrayed us all.” Dean’s face turned into one of exasperation, his mind not fathoming how he couldn’t understand exactly what the escort had done to them. 

“How?” Sam questioned, his tone still steady and reasonable. “By saving us?” 

“She sent you to your death, Sam!” the mobster snapped, his deep voice bellowing off of the walls as he stood from his seat brashly, his right hand throwing his glass against the wall. His green eyes darkened, his lips twitching as he held back a snarl. “I was the one that pulled you out of there!” 

“Because she told you too,” came the younger Winchester’s reply, not even flinching at Dean’s actions, which he had gotten used to by now. He raised his eyebrows as he watched the pacing man in front of him, sucking in a deep breath as he ran a hand through his long hair. “Look, calm down for a minute and let’s talk this out, yeah?” 

“Why are you on her side in this?!” Dean fumed, his hands running through his hair as he continued to pace the broken mess of the room. 

“Dean, I’m not. Believe me, if I’m wrong in all this, I’ll be handing you a loaded gun,” Sam assured, his dark eyes that were trained on his big brother full of conviction and promise. 

It was then that the frustrated man stopped in his tracks, angling his body to look down at the voice of reason. “You wanted me to murder Cassie the first chance I got, hell you still do. So what’s changed?”

“She’s not Cassie,” Sam’s reply was almost instant and it basically winded the head of the family, the darkness in his gaze fading as he collapsed back onto the couch. “Dean, Cassie did what she did maliciously, off her own back. Y/N’s held her hands up and told you before it got too far,” he began to explain, his hand rubbing at his jaw. “Look, when I brought Azazel back here, and I kept Y/N company whilst you did your thing, she opened up to me slightly. I didn’t like what I had to hear.” 

At that, Dean frowned, his anger subsiding slightly to make way for the uneasiness in his stomach to break through. “Which was?” 

He watched his little brother, how he rubbed his hands together before he spoke. It did nothing to settle the anxious feeling that was resonating in his chest. 

“She said that you were the first man that had treated her like a person and not an asset,” Sam began to explain, his voice soft and compassionate as he judged for a reaction. “She tried to cover up her words but I know how to read body language, Dean. She was uncomfortable, she was lying to me. Even when I challenged her about it, she couldn’t tell me the truth, so what does that tell you?”

“That she’s a liar,” the mobster seethed, pulling in his bottom lip with his teeth. 

“Or that she’s trapped in a corner with nowhere to run,” Sam implored, causing the older to halt his actions, the words resonating through him. 

His anger faded, the red fog clearing slightly, causing him to think carefully over his brother’s comments. Maybe he was right; all the evidence that he had gathered so far had already pointed to a not so normal life. So could it be that she was forced into this situation? That she was truly trapped, or was that an easy excuse to make?

“Yeah, maybe,” Dean sighed, shaking his head slightly as he pursed his lips. “But you don’t know everything.” 

“What do you mean?” Sam enquired. 

“Charlie found some information. I asked her to look into Y/N and report back to me,” the mobster admitted, rubbing at his chin as he edged closer to the edge of his seat. “Her records were dodgy, Sam. There was nothing past the age of six. It was like her life had ended there. I was convinced she had taken on someone else’s life as an alias.”

“But that’s not true?” His little brother's question made Dean shake his head slightly, his lips pursing.

“No. She told me a bit about her past, she confided in me and the woman I saw was so damn vulnerable. But Hell, that could have been an act too right?” A scoff past his pink lips as he reached for the bottle of whiskey that was on the table in front of him. “I don’t know, Sammy. Something isn’t sitting right. The woman I returned to The Hemlock yesterday morning was not the same one I got back. Something changed in her while she was there and then I noticed a tattoo on her neck.” 

“A tattoo?”

Dean nodded, walking over to where he’d thrown his phone earlier. “I don’t just think it’s just any kind of ink, Sam,” he doubted, picking the device off the floor and hoping it still worked. A slight wave of relief washed over him when he noticed that all his cell had suffered was a partially cracked screen. 

He pulled up the picture that he took, zooming in slightly on the detail before handing it over to the younger Winchester. “I just need to work out the numbers.”

Sam took a moment to study the photograph, the image fanning the flames of his suspicions with a heavy heart. “That’s because it isn’t normal ink, Dean,” he started, swallowing hard as his gaze went back to the awaiting green orbs. “I think she’s been a victim of trafficking.”

Dean’s face changed, his expression slack as his eyebrows twitched. “What?”

“It makes sense, right? The way she acts, the fake personas, the change of personality, the way her walls fell down around you when you took her to do perfectly normal things.” 

Did his brother have a point? The mobster took another long gulp from the glass bottle in his hands, his mind racing as he tried to pinpoint his thoughts. Surely he would have noticed it, he’s a mob boss for fuck’s sake, surely he would have seen something. How could he not know? But then even if he did, would it change how he felt about her now? Y/N had still deceived him, lulled him into a false sense of security before aiding the capture of two of his men. If Sam had been caught too...

“I still can’t trust her. Not now, not after this,” Dean admitted, the morbid thoughts of losing his family taunting him. 

“She’s just been a pawn in this war, Dean,” Sam tried to reason, sliding his phone back over the table. “And the fact that you’ve left her alive in your bedroom speaks volumes for itself. You need to talk to her.”

The older Winchester huffed a breath before he ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “And what is that going to solve, huh?” 

“I know what she means to you, and she means more to you now than Cassie ever did,” Sam spoke truthfully, his eyes full of empathy as he stared at the stubborn man across from him. “You need to speak with her, maybe now she’s in a position to tell you the full truth.”

“But Benny and Cas--”

“- I’ll deal with that. You need to do this, Dean. You need answers.” 

There was a brief moment of silence between the pair, neither of them breaking their gaze on the other, a psychological standoff. 

“Fine,” Dean relented, closing his eyes briefly as he took a deep breath, pushing himself back off of the coach. His legs felt heavy as he made his way towards the staircase, his palms sweating, his throat dry, even though he tried to drown his thirst with liquor. He hadn’t got the time he needed to process the series of events that turned his world upside down, Benny and Cas were in danger, the woman who had captured his soul laid on his bedroom floor. A possible victim of trafficking. Could she have really been forced into this? Why couldn’t she have just told him the truth? Did she not trust him? 

Making his way along the long corridor towards his room, he brought the bottle of whiskey back to his lips, his eyes slightly glassy as he thought about how he had left her. Broken, defeated, at his complete mercy on the floor. She was so accepting of punishment, so willing to welcome any harm that was coming her way. Casting his mind back to the first time he truly spent time with her, he remembered her not knowing how to shop. That memory bled into the one where he told her she could keep the dress he had made for her; the look of childish glee when she tried pizza for the first time, the eyes full of wonder when she tasted chocolate covered strawberries. It was all flashing in front of him like it was a damn show. The need to do well continuously, to be the best of the best. The fear in her eyes when she thought she’d failed him. It all made sense now. 

With a partially shaking hand, he pulled the key to his room from his jeans pocket, the metal shaking in the lock as he slowly turned it to open. The click echoed through his soul, causing him to inhale deeply as he readied himself to face Y/N once again. With a forceful push, he opened his door, words spilling from his lips before an unexpected sight greeted him.

“You need to explain yourself.”

——————————————– Chapter Twenty Eight --> ——————————————– A/N: *screams* Guys...three more chapters...that’s it! *sobs into a pillow* We’re so close to the end of this story. I hope you’re enjoying these last few stops. 

I love you guys so much for reading this…so thank you from the bottom of my heart.

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[sideblog-666-thousand]

Euronymous Interview in Decibel of Death, ‘87. English Translation. Ft. Euronymous’ depraved torture fantasies involving Coca-Cola.

‘Decibel of Death’ was a French fanzine from the 80s. It’s first issue was released in ‘86, and by the summer of ‘87, it switched over from French to English-language. This has been my favourite interview of Euronymous for a long time now, so I decided I’d translate it to English so that other, non-francophone, people could enjoy it too. This issue in particular is from February of ‘87, and was their fourth issue overall.

I’ll add a link to where you can find this, and other D.O.D scans, below. If anybody wants me to translate more French, or Russian, interviews, feel free to PM me.

Note: NDLR is the editor’s notes. Any commentary or context by me will be in bold and in parenthesis, so feel free to totally ignore it. If something is between “« »” it’s because it was already written in English to begin with.

Disclaimer: if some of the sentences sound like the energizer bunny is hooked on an iv rig full of pure meth, don’t blame me, I did my best. Take it up with Euronymous himself. Also, I’m not excusing Euronymous’ poor behaviour, I’m just saying his poor behaviour is kind of entertaining.

Without further ado...

D.O.D: And once again, here’s Norwegian Mayhem. If you remember, we presented them to you back in the May issue of D.O.D. Since then, they released a new demo titled “Death Crush”!! Because of this event, we decided to ask the guitarist of this rather sinister band a few questions.

D.O.D: Okay, there’s been more than a few line-up changes in Mayhem. Can you tell us what the current one is?

Euro: Alright, there’s me on guitars, Manheim on battery, Necro-butcher on drums, and our session vocalist, Maniac.

D.O.D:  And what is the medium age of the group?

Euro: We are all 18 years old.

D.O.D: How long has Mayhem been around for?

Euro: Mayhem has been around since August of ‘84 with this line-up, before that, I played in another shitty metal group that was also called Mayhem. The other members also played in a crappy band before we all met.

D.O.D: How would you describe your music?

Euro: Ah, well, it’s like a wall of sound played at extreme speed all mixed with the sound of a chainsaw!!

D.O.D: In your opinion, who are the biggest posers on this planet?

Euro: That definitely has to be the Swedish group ‘Europe’. «Fuck them!!» I hate this band!!

D.O.D: Ha ha, what would you like to do to make them suffer?

(This is the exact moment where the interviewers realize that Euronymous is literally fucking insane. The editor censors some of the things Euronymous says because he has a very vulgar manner of speaking, so, brace yourselves. To make it abundantly clear— I didn’t censor any of this, if it was me, I’d let him continue swearing ‘til next year if he wanted to. Take it up with D.O.D!)

Euro: First of all, I’d cut them and make them eat their own (bleep)!! Then, I’ll fuck them in the ass with an empty bottle of Coke, and if they’re still alive somehow, I’ll drown them in their own piss!! (NDLR: I’d do the same to a few guys in Germany and Switzerland!!) But all of this is reserved for their guitarist, drummer and bassist, I have a far crueler torture for their singer, for him, I’m simply going to break his mirror and steal his perfume!! Haaaaafuckinghah!!! (NDLR: ahahahaha, this is so much fun!!)

D.O.D: Okay, Euronymous, onto more serious topics, who composes the most in Mayhem?

Euro: It’s me and Necro, but sometimes Manheim comes up with good riffs, he actually wrote most of P.F.A (Pure Fucking Armageddon)

D.O.D: I believe thrashers reacted pretty well to your first demo, right?

Euro: Despite the zero sound of this demo. It's true that it's actually the hardcore thrashers that appreciated it, although it was the others hating it that gave us an enormous promotion like with 'Metal Forces'.

D.O.D: Has there been groups that have influenced you?

Euro: Of course, early Venom has really inspired us, although we don’t sound like them in any way. We’re also influenced by bands like Hellhammer and Sodom.

D.O.D: Mayhem is a common band name, what do you think of other Mayhem (such as NYC Mayhem, Mayhem (WC), Mayhem (Oregon))?

Euro: NYC Mayhem* are excellent, I adore them! (NDLR: me too!!) and they call themselves NYC Mayhem. But as for the other Mayhems, they stink, «fuckin’ shit»,  like the Mayhem that’s on Metal Massacre VI*, they really stink, their music isn’t destructive like ours is at all, they don’t deserve this name, I hate them!!

D.O.D: I heard you guys played a show, how did that go?

Euro: It was really «cool», it was at a small rock festival that had around 3-400 «discofucks» (NDLR: this is the censored translation) and when we went on stage with our first session vocalist “Messiah”, we broke a bass over their mouths!! We gave these idiots hell!! Ha ha!! (I’ll link the show he’s referring to below)

D.O.D: And how did your other gigs go?

Euro: For now this has been our only show!! And we don’t know how the crowds will react at the prospect of future gigs.

D.O.D: Fair. Since we’re talking about future gigs, what will those be like?

Euro: They’ll be full of occult things, we’ll play in complete darkness and there’ll be red blood spots, chandeliers, smoke, and pig heads on stakes, it’ll be totally thrashing!!

D.O.D: How’s the Norwegian thrash scene? It’s pretty dull, no?

Euro: Right now, «it sucks», there’s no audience, but it seems to be going in the right direction with bands like Vomit*, Septic Cunts, Decay Lust, and Flowers in The Dustbin.

D.O.D: And what kind of things are your lyrics about?

Euro: depravity, like tearing someone’s (bleep), eating worms, and all those fine things!!

D.O.D: What are your favourite bands?

Euro: Really hard question, there’s so many good bands coming out but I think the bands I like the most are old Venom, Deathchamber, Sodom, Necrophagia, Destruction, Death, Kreator, Poison. (No, not THAT Poison)

D.O.D: Do you ever listen to hardcore?

Euro: «Yeah» I like Chaotic Discord, Septic Death, UK Subs, and others. It hasn’t been that long since I went to see Disorder and it was awesome!!

D.O.D: Are you considering going on tour?

Euro: No, not exactly. But soon we’ll play at a Norwegian thrash festival. We’ll also play at a thrash festival in Copenhagen, and probably do a few shows with Kreator/Necrophagia in ‘87.

(No, this isn’t a typo on my end, it actually says ‘87. There’s two reasons why this might be the case. One, it could be an error on the part of the editor, who deserves an interview of his own, or two, it could be an error by Euronymous himself since the interview might have been conducted in January. Euronymous could have mixed the years up as one sometimes does. However, ‘Death Crush’, the demo, actually came out in March of ‘87. What the interviewer and Euronymous are referring to as ‘Death Crush’ is likely ‘Death Rehearsal’, which is exactly what it sounds like, and was taped back January of ‘87.)

D.O.D: I heard you guys are recording a new demo, is it ready?

Euro: We just entered the studio to record the second “Death Crush” demo, but at the moment, we only have three songs. I’m also unsure of whether or not we’ll have enough money to record anything else, and the vocals still haven’t been put to music!!

D.O.D: There’s some rumours that you guys were contacted by certain record labels, is this true?

Euro: It’s true, we got a letter from Axe killer records saying that they were interested in us but they never listened to our music and I also sent them our demo tape but I don’t believe we’ll be receiving any letters from them now!!

D.O.D: Do you have anything to add?

Euro: Of course, «fucking ARGHHHH!!»

There, that’s all :)

If you’re interested in some of the asterisks I put in, here they are in order of their appearances:

*Unlike most of the bands Euronymous named in this interview, NYC Mayhem (and later as Straight Ahead) never released more than a few demo. They were a straight edge band from, you guessed it, NYC— Queens to be exact. Despite never releasing a full album, their sound inspired some grindcore and death metal bands, notably Carcass. They were also straight edge, which makes Euronymous’ mental breakdown over the Mayhem that was on Metal Massacre very, very ironic. Especially considering he was pretty straight edge himself, especially back in 1987– outside of maybe smoking some pot.

Here is their 1985 demo, https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=t-3geR1JbY4

*Metal Massacre is a series of compilation albums starting in 1982, released by Metal Blade records. Typically, these were independent and unsigned bands. Some notable ones include Metallica on the first edition with ‘Hit the lights’. Slayer in ‘83 with ‘Aggressive Perfector’. The ‘84 edition had Voivod, Overkill, and Hellhammer.

The one which Euronymous is referring to, however, is the one from ‘85. Here it is, the timestamp is 14:19 https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=HqwfsLvLvuY

It’s really not that bad— certainly not worth the double exclamation points.

*If you don’t know who Vomit are, you must not know much about early Mayhem. They were another thrash band who shared rehearsal space with Mayhem. Torben Grue and Kittil Kittilsen (what a sad fucking name) were also ‘in’ Mayhem at some point. Kittil once shaved off his eyebrow, but I don’t know why. Here is a picture of the dork:

The show Euronymous is talking about: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=mjay2Lmj9C8 yes, this is the show where Euronymous flashes his ass. I think it’s funny because he talks big but he seemed very hesitant to do it, and practically ducked backstage afterwards. Necro, on the other hand, was very proud to have broken his bass.

Well, that’s all I have. If you read this far, I hope you enjoyed the additional notes I left. Outside of a few more interviews of Mayhem, I also have a few obscure Emperor interviews that were posted to the internet in late 90s. There’s an especially funny one where Faust is allowed to interview Ihsahn and Samoth from prison. He’s sarcastic the entire time, refers to the readers as ‘morons’ and proclaims everyone should all die in a nuclear war with the same energy you cross yourself with. Overall, it’s a funny read. I also have one where he interviews Varg, and Euronymous (separately) for his own ‘zine back in the early 90s. Actually— I have A LOT of interviews of Faust for some reason, including two where he’s actually on camera. I might post them if I feel like it, or if somebody wants them. Is anyone here an especially big fan of Faust?

Last but not least, here is the link to the ‘zine:

http://france.metal.museum.free.fr/revues/fanzines/decibel_of_death/04/page_03.htm

#euronymous #mayhem #interview #black metal #true norwegian black metal #I typed this out so it’s mine #Euronymous interview #gee I really hope nobody else posted a translation of this because it took forever #can we make haaafuckinghah a thing?