#he's so excited for his slop

[dogmaz]

Tf he so happy about

#downtown mtv #dogma2323 #goat #he's so excited for his slop #mtv downtown #cartoonposting #downtown

[rowarn]

first i would like to formally apologize.......also first time trying hybrid au so i humbly apologize if it's not as good as other people's!!! first time for everything and all that!!!

hybrid!au, angst, hurt/comfort but also hurt/no comfort, VERY mean!simon, cat hybrid!reader, dog hybrid!soap, owner!simon

part 2 !!

Simon who has retired from the military and decides to get himself a hybrid companion. Even though he doesn’t want to admit it – he’s grown lonely. He doesn’t have any family and all the socializing he did was in the military and he doesn’t have that anymore. So he decides to look into finding something to fill that gap in his life. 

Enters Soap – a young hybrid who once upon a time worked for the military just like Simon. The pup got injured in action and was forced to retire. 

Simon figures the two of them will fit together quite well. 

And he’s right! The two of them get along swimmingly. And it turns out Soap is very good for Simon. The endless energy the hybrid had (despite his injury) forces Simon to actually leave the house multiple times a day instead of hiding inside until he drives himself stir crazy. 

Now, he has to take Soap out for walks, runs, and even takes the hybrid to the park so he can run around with other hybrids and play catch with Simon. Soap LOVES it when Simon throws the ball as far and fast as he can so Soap has to spend several minutes hunting the little thing down. 

Simon actually finds himself feeling…happy. For the first time in a long time. 

Soap carves out a space in Simon’s life and the Brit is more than happy to let him take up as much space as he needs. He adores Soap. He knows the two of them are going to be companions for a long, long time. 

But then on a routine nightly walk, Soap freezes at the entrance to an alleyway, ears perked and alert as he hears something Simon can’t. His tail stops wagging and his blue eyes work to pierce unblinkingly into the inky depths of the alley. 

And that’s how they come across you; a skittish cat hybrid with no home to call your own.

Soap is ecstatic. His tail starts wagging so hard that it actually hurts when it hits Simon in the leg. 

The pup begs Simon to bring you home. He wants a hybrid friend of his own! Something ugly and dark works it’s way into his chest when he hears that – was he not enough for Soap like Soap was for him? 

He tries to tug Soap away by hooking his fingers into the leather collar around his neck but the hybrid doesn’t move, simply staring with a grin at where you sit on the ground in the alley. 

Simon doesn’t like cats. He doesn’t want a cat. And just seeing you makes him frown. 

When he finds that he can’t get Soap to move, he starts bargaining. He swears that they’ll look into finding a nice dog hybrid for Soap!! Stll, it doesn’t work. The dog hybrid has got his heart set on you for some reason. 

And that’s how you find yourself living in his home. And he’s not happy about it. 

You glare at him any time he has the audacity to walk into any room you happen to be in in his OWN damn house. It pisses him off. 

He doesn’t like you. And he makes it abundantly clear any time he sees you with the way his lips curl up in disgust. He shoos you away like you’re a nuisance even when you’re just lounging in the warmth of a sunbeam through the window. 

Where Soap eats borderline gourmet, he usually just slops some random low-quality hybrid food down for you. Sometimes, if he’s feeling particularly resentful, he doesn’t even let you eat at the table with him and Soap. 

But Soap adores you. The pup gets so excited to see you whenever he gets home from a walk or a day at the park. He hunts you down immediately wherever you may be just so he can excitedly tell you all about what happened outside – the birds he saw, the hybrids he played with, what he ate. 

And you listen intently. You’re not one for many words, Simon notes, but he often finds you muttering barely audible things to the other hybrids. You’ve never spoken a word to the human. 

Simon doesn’t know why that upsets him too – it’s not like he wants you to talk to him. He just thinks it’s disrespectful of you to ignore the man giving you food and a roof over your head. He also thinks it’s fucking disrespectful of you to steal his hybrids heart the way you have. 

The longer you’re there in his house, the more Simon hates you. Annoyance morphs into despising you. He’d have thrown you out back onto the streets by now if he could get away with it but when Soap wasn’t by his side, he was by yours. 

It ticks him off when he walks into a room and finds you purring happily with Soap curled up around you, big burly arms holding you snuggly against his chest as he snoozes. 

Simon didn’t even bother naming you, Soap’s the one who picked something to call you. Simon usually just gruffly calls you ‘cat’ if he needs to speak to you – which he makes it a point not to do very much. 

You still don’t speak to Simon. Even when he ‘forgets’ to feed you, you don’t say a word. You don’t complain or seek him out for something to eat. You just choose to starve. 

He wonders if you hate him as much as he despises you. 

And you and Soap remain the best of friends. The pup is always yapping happily to you and you’re always listening. 

As time passes, you even start to follow Soap around. It no longer seems like one-sided adoration. 

You love Soap, he brightens your day and makes you happy. You want to be around him all the time. You never thought you'd like a dog but Soap was just so sweet and kind that it was impossible to dislike him -- even when he ruthlessly kissed your face all over and pinned you down so you couldn't escape just so he could give you all the affection he wanted. You never got mad, never showed your claws (in fact, you were extra cautious of your claws with him). You slept with him whenever he wasn't busy snuggling with Simon -- and you'd never dare interrupt the two of them while they were having quality time together!!!

And that also makes Simon furious. Because Soap is his. How dare you have the audacity to think Soap is yours? Simon has put so much love and effort into his relationship with Soap and you prance in with your stupid fluffy tail and little purrs and you’ve got the dog-hybrid wrapped around your finger in no time. 

God, he hates you. 

It seems like everything comes to a head on a rainy day. The rain always makes Soap hurt, his old injury and joints act up. It leaves him docile and sometimes a little cranky. 

He had been a little short with you all day and that hurt. You already dealt with your owner, the man who took you in, refusing to show you any kindness, and now the one companion you had would barely look at you. 

It wasn’t your fault you didn’t know how much pain Soap suffered from. You loved the rainy night, it was perfect weather to snuggle up to your favorite hybrid and snooze away. 

You found Soap, sprawled on his back on the couch, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed, you didn’t think anything of it. You crawled onto the couch, intending to snuggle in right beside him. 

But when you put the tiniest bit of your weight on him, his blue eyes popped open and a loud yelp erupted from his lips. You startled, hissing as your tail puffed up and fuzzy ears pinned back. 

Soap practically lept from the couch to get out from under your weight, hitting the floor with a loud thump that had him whimpering softly to himself, curling in on his side. 

Simon was storming into the living room not a half second later – finding his beloved pup curled up whimpering and shaking and you, ears pinned, tail puffed, and taking up the spot Soap once was. 

Simon didn’t care what had just happened – all he knew was what it looked like; like you had pushed the poor pup off. 

Because to him, that’s what cats were; vile, selfish, mean little shits. 

You were dragged to the door and tossed right out into the rain without a second thought. Before you could even get your wits about you, the door was slamming in your face and you were alone. You sat on the step for a long while, shivering from the cold rain soaking your thin clothes, just waiting for the door to open again. 

But before you knew it, the lights inside were turning off and you heard the front door’s deadbolt slide into place. And you were still outside, alone with nothing to your name but an old t-shirt that you had stolen from Soap. 

Simon hadn’t even bothered to get you clothes of your own. Or a collar like Soap’s – one with Simon’s name and number on the back. You had always wanted a collar like that but you knew Simon didn’t care about you enough to even consider you his own hybrid. 

You tried your best to stay out of his way and stay quiet and as small as possible so he wouldn’t grow angry or uncomfortable with you. You didn’t ask him for food when he forgot or get under his feet like Soap did. You tried your best to be good and hoped that someday the human would come around but as the days passed, you knew that it wouldn’t happen. You still did your best to not make trouble for him though. 

It seemed he was just waiting for an opportunity to get you out of his house. 

Your tummy growled, reminding you that you hadn’t been able to eat dinner yet. You stood from the front step and wandered down to the sidewalk, bare feet splashing in the puddles, taking a last glance at the now dark and still house you called home for many months. 

With your head hung low, you made your way back to familiar areas where you knew you could dig through trash to find at least something so you wouldn’t sleep hungry tonight. 

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #cod x reader

[lciesdepravity]

Sold Out Series

Sana Arc Chapter 1-1: Everything has a price

"For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction"

"Karma is a bitch"

"Everything has a price..."

Such statements proved true ever since the beginning of time, and continues to remain true to this day.

We learn it every single moment of our miserable lives - hell, it's even taught to us in school.

And yet here she was.

Sana should've listened to her Science teacher more.

Shame.

When she was first offered the job, she thought it was just another fashion line ambassador deal.

Heck, she was even excited for it. The other members started to get requested to be ambassadors of other luxury brands too, so she figured it was only a matter of time before she got picked as well.

Never in her life could she have expected this.

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It started after the press event.

"Ooof~ Yatta! Mmm~ Finally finished!" The young idol plopped unceremoniously in the backseat, melting into the plush cushions as she takes off her sleek black heels and massages her feet.

"Ugh, that took longer than it should. Can we go home now Oppa?"

"Mian, Sana-shi. The brand CEO is requesting your presence at their hotel's grand ballroom for the after-party, so your night's not over just yet. You know how uppity the higher-ups get about company relations and shit."

That prompted an annoyed scoff and a groan from the idol, but work is work. The manager at least had the decency to look at Sana with pity before driving off.

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

Last sched for the day. Sana Fighting! After one final check of her appearance and fixing her hair a bit, Sana steeled herself and put on her most practiced idol smile. She confidently strutted down the hallway and was ushered in.

The after-party was everything you'd expect from a luxury brand and more. The clinking of champagne glasses, the miniaturized posh slop they call food, the fake smiles and empty compliments as everyone 'socialized' with each other. More like leech off each other.

Boring.

The idol rolled her eyes (mentally of course - she was anything but professional after all), and smiled as everyone greeted her. Here we go.

Sana's whole night consisted of greeting sheep - *ahem* PR people, accepting their business cards, a few empty promises here and there, take a picture. Rinse and repeat. Maybe a snack and a drink in between. Basically, she was on autopilot for majority of the event, until a depressed looking woman approached her and bowed.

"Ms. Minatozaki, our CEO requests your presence at the suite. He personally wants to thank and welcome you as our new ambassador."

Not really given a choice, the idol was ushered up to an elevator that led to the suite.

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

*Ding*

The sleek metal doors of the elevator slid closed as Sana bade the secretary goodbye. She looked around in awe, marveling at the sheer opulence of the suite. Marbled floors, chandeliers, pristine furniture and antique vases. Expensive. Ugh, I better not break anything. Even with our money, I don't think I can cover for anything in here!

She continued down the hallway until she reached the living room, where she sees an old man in his bathrobe looking out the glass door of the balcony, wine in his hand.

"*Ehem* E-excuse me sir. Y-you wanted to see me?"

"Ah! Sana. Welcome. Please sit. Would you like a drink?"

The old man offered her a glass as she sat down. Sana offered a smile, but politely shook her head.

"I'm sorry sir. I still have schedules for tomorrow, so I can't really drink much tonight. Thank you though."

"I see... Welp, more for me then."

The CEO took a sip as he sat beside the young woman. He stared at her for a bit, his eyes focusing on her necklace.

"Y'know, that necklace of ours really does fit you... Exquisite. I'm happy we got you as an ambassador for our brand. I look forward to working with you more in the future."

"M-me too sir. Thank you for the opportunity." He extends his hand and she shakes it.

Mistake.

His index finger rubs against her palms creepily as he scoots closer to her. She had to fight the urge not to withdraw her hand in disgust, she had to be professional after all. Lucky for her, the CEO let go of her hand. Euck, Gross... What's with this old man?

She tries to scoot away discreetly, but the old man just kept coming near. The young idol keeps shuffling until she felt the end of the couch. Shit... She was trapped.

Sana shivered in disgust as the old man placed his hands on her knees, slowly inching up her thighs as he goes in for a kiss.

*Slap*

The faint stinging in her hand persisted as the slap resonated all around the room. Her heart was pounding - her breaths heavy. Hastily, the young idol got up and gathered her things, leaving the old man to his misery.

*Click*

To her horror, the door was locked.

The old man let out a dry laugh as he moved to refill his empty glass.

"You didn't think our deal with your company was that simple did you?"

With a sip and a condescending smile he looked at the frozen idol.

"That diamond necklace around your neck, that costs hundreds of millions of dollars my dear. We're one of the richest brands in all the world, what makes you think I couldn't just buy you just like that?"

Sana's eyes widened. She felt so sick, her stomach was turning. "T-they didn't-"

"'Fraid so my dear. Your company sold you out to me for a whole damn week."

His grin spread across his face as he watches the young idol blanch at his words in shock.

"T-that's... N-no! I'm not just some whore for you to play around with. I didn't consent to this! Let me out this instant or I'll sue!"

Frantically, she reached for her phone, opening the camera app and taking a video. Ha! This is my evidence. Take that you old geezer.

Her heart dropped as the CEO's smile got even wider.

"Fiesty. Heh~ Go ahead and film... you do that. Meanwhile, I'll be using every single one of my connections to destroy you and your little group. One word from me, and all your sponsorships, all your brand deals - even that of your members... Poof~" To accentuate his point, he held out this phone, hovering his finger over the call button.

She froze. 

I-if it's only me, then I can take it. But the members... We worked so hard to get this far... Damnit! Why is this happening to me?

Minutes pass, and all Sana wants to do is cry. Her fists were clenched tight, lips bitten in frustration as her mind raced, thinking of what she should do.

She was interrupted when the old man spoke once again.

"If you're done thinking it over, get your dumb ass over here so I can use you. I'm not getting any younger here. Or should I just call my secretary and cancel everything now?"

She looked at him scathingly with fiery eyes as she walked over to him, her clenched fists shaking in anger. The old man didn't bat an eye. Instead he leaned back,  staring at her with those condescending eyes.

"Well? Take that fucking dress off." Sana bit her lips as she hesitated, but the old man just looked at her impatiently. Slowly she stripped, unzipping the back of her dress and letting it fall to the ground. She gave it a light kick as her hands moved to cover her intimate parts, but the sight of her creamy skin was more than enough.

Excited, the CEO got up and cupped her cheeks, tilting it to face him as he looked at her eyes. Rebellious... Defiant... Just the way I like it.

"I'm gonna enjoy breaking you, kpop bitch."

He pushed her on the couch and started his assault. Her eyes shut tight as his tongue snaked along her milky porcelain neck - up, down, over the collarbone and even up to her ears.

*Sniff* "Mmm~ you smell so good Sana. Hmmm~ your scent is driving me crazy." The old man gave her a long wanton sniff that sent chills up her spine.

Fuck... This is so disgusting.... Endure Sana. For the girls... For the fans... For yourself. You have to endure.

Seeing the idol's eyes shut tight, the old man got more brazen. He took both of Sana's wrists and pinned them above her head, exposing Sana's clean shaven armpits. He gave her pits a series of needy sniffs, his breath tickling her a bit.

*Sniff* *sniff* "Ahhhh... You smell so... mmm~ divine." Her sweaty scent was enough to drive the old man into a frenzy. Like a mad dog, he licked the sweat off her pits wantonly, relishing in feeling her shudder against his tongue.

Meanwhile, his free hand groped her ample breasts, kneading them like dough. When he sensed the clip in front, he hurriedly removed her bra and threw it away, revealing her jiggly soft supple mounds...

He gulped. "They're mesmerizing..." Without preamble, the old man dove in and while looking at Sana's face, feasted on her breasts like a newborn baby. He squished them together and teasingly gave her pink dusky nipples a lick, enjoying the way the buds roll off his tongue.

He watched as Sana's expression change with every lick... with every suckle... with every squeeze. He watched as her brows scrunch together, her lips bitten red as she resisted his ministrations. He didn't stop until each bud was fully erect and shiny, thoroughly coated with his spit.

"*Slurp* *pop* Mmm~ yummy... Now, sit up and let me sit behind you."

Not really giving her a chance to resist, he pulled her up and smoothly slid behind her, cradling her between his legs. Much to his dismay, the young woman's eyes were still closed, her face not betraying any emotion. Annoying.

Eager to break her stoic facade, the old man reached between her legs, slipping his hand inside her lacy black panties. Dry... Mmm~ not for long.

With a practiced ease, his hand nimbly removed the young star's panties, unhooking it from one of her legs where one of her heels came off.

"Shaved huh? Shame, I like it hairy."

*Smack!*

Out of nowhere, his hand came down, delivering a light slap to Sana's clit. The Japanese idol bit her lip, a small gasp escaping her as she fought hard to stifle her moans. She didn't want to give in to him, not now, not ever.

*Smack!*

Another slap. Dead center against her core. The old CEO's dominant side took control as he taunted, "Mmm, you like this, don't you, slut? You like this old man slapping your wet pulsing cunt?"

*Smack!*

His hand came down again, this time with more force, causing the young woman's pussy to squelch audibly. His old wrinkly fingers traced the sensitive skin, exploring every inch with a mix of roughness and precision.

All the while, the old fuck buried his nose deep in the poor idol's neck and sniffed her once again, licking and sucking on her pulse point as he humps her plump ass.

*Sniff* "Mmm~ fuck, I can't get enough of your scent. Uhh~ you're worth every fucking penny I paid." His lips brushed against Sana's ear as he whispered naughty things.

*Smack!*

"Ahn~ mmmppph-" A small moan escaped her lips, which she promptly covered with one of her hands. Her face was a flushed mess, and she was panting like a bitch in heat.

W-What is happening? Mmm~ How is he so good at this... No! Sana, fight it! You're not getting horny because of this old pervert. Fight it!

"Yes, hold those moans for me my dear," He whispered into the idol's ear, his warm breath sending tingles down her body. "I like the challenge. I will break that infamous composure of yours, Sana." With a gentle bite to the girl's earlobe, his words pushed her further to the edge.

Each whisper was accompanied by another firm slap to the Japanese pussy, causing her moans to grow louder. Her hips were bucking slightly, and her body was writhing beneath the old man's magic touch. With each passing moment, her pussy gets wetter and sloppier.

Seeing his effect on the poor girl, he smirked. Not long now... just a bit more and she's mine...

With his free hand, he reached up and cupped Sana's perky breasts, her fingers teasingly circling the hardened peaks of her taut, erect nipples.

"Mmm, look at these gorgeous nipples, baby... So pink and so tender for me." He whispered huskily. He pinches each nipple and pulls.

"Fuck, S-stop it," She whimpered, her hips now bucking wildly, thrusting against his hand. Her body trembled with anticipation, craving release.

"That's it. Give in to the pleasure my dear. Let go for me."

As the old man continued to slap her cunt, the wet, lewd sounds filled the air, mixing with Sana's increasingly uninhibited cries.

She couldn't help but respond, her voice trembling with need. "Oh, fuck, D-don't stop... Harder please..."

The old man smirked, his slapping growing more intense, each stroke driving Sana closer to the edge. "You want it harder, huh? You're such a dirty fucking slut. Beg for it. Beg for my hand to pound your wet cunt."

F-fuck! I can't hold it anymore... Uhhh!

Sana's breath hitched as she finally gave in, her voice pleading, begging him. "Please, sir! Pound me! Pound my slutty cunt! I need it so fucking bad!"

*Smack!*

With a victorious grin, the old man slapped her pussy once more. "Who do you belong to? Huh? Tell me who's bitch you are!"

*Smack!*

With her back arching, she screamed, "Yours! I-I'm daddy's little kpop bitch begging to cum. Please make me cum daddy! Daddy! Uhhhh~"

*Smack!* *Smack!* *Smack!*

The old man's hand moved with reckless abandon, the wet slapping sounds echoing across the entire room. Sana's moans filled the air as she surrendered completely to the overwhelming pleasure building within her. She couldn't hold back any longer, her voice reaching a crescendo of pleasure. "Yes, fuck! Gonna cum! Cumming for you, Daddy! Oh, fuck!"

Upon, hearing her say that, the old man unceremoniously plunged his middle and ring fingers deep into her sweltering cunt. "Yes fucking cum, you slut. Point those toes of yours while cumming. Cum for me, drench my hand while I finger fuck your uptight cunt into submission."

His fingers skillfully hit her g-spot repeatedly, his palms still slapping her clit with each pass.

S-shit! This old man's too good! He's gonna make me cum. This old man's gonna make me cum! Fuck cummingcummingcummingAaaaahhh~!

With a primal scream, Sana's back arched, her legs spreading even wider, her legs quivered uncontrollably, her toes curling and pointing as the immense pleasure surged through every inch of her body.

With a loud squelching sound, her pussy released a torrent of pleasure, drenching the floor below. Sana's eyes rolled back, her body convulsing with sheer ecstasy as he fingered her into oblivion.

Spurt after spurt. Stream after stream she squirted. It took awhile for her orgasm to finally die down. Even then, she was still twitching as the old pervert continued to tease and flick her cunt occasionally.

Not giving her the time to rest, the horny old man took Sana and inverted her on the couch - her legs resting on the backrest whilst her head dangles off the edge.

He hurriedly tossed his robe aside, freeing his throbbing cock and presenting it to a still recovering Sana.

"Open your mouth and stick your tongue out."

His voice was stern, commanding. He took his cock and slapped it against Sana's face and tongue several times, smearing her face with precum and spit.

That is, until he decided the foreplay was enough. In one fell swoop, he fed her throat his cock, not stopping until he bottomed out.

"Glurk! Mmmmpphh~!"

Sana gagged, but the old man just kept pushing. She slapped his thighs, asking for mercy but there's none to be found. Her eyes bulged, tears spilling from the sides as she took his cock fully.

"That's right bitch. Fucking take it! Ahhrgh!"

Not giving her time to adjust, he intensified his thrusts, grabbing her feet and using them as handles. He planted his feet on each side of her head, essentially squatting on her face for every thrust. The sounds of his balls hitting her nose echoed across the room.

The old fuck growled, his voice deep and guttural as he praised Sana's cock-sucking abilities.

"That's it *pound* fuck! fucking take it! *pound* put that kpop mouth of yours to good use! *pound*" he said, his thrusts becoming even more forceful as he spoke.

Holy fuck, he's fucking my face so hard. She thought, her eyes rolling back in pleasure. She loved the feeling of him taking control, of him using her for his pleasure. It made her feel so dirty and so desired all at once.

With each powerful thrust, a line of thick drool stretched from his cock to her mouth, his huge balls slapping her nose repeatedly. Sana's saliva mixed with the precum dripping from him, creating a slippery mess as he relentlessly skull fucked her.

"Mhmm, gawk, glurgh,"

Sana's moans grew louder and more desperate, her arousal and submission evident in every sound that escaped her lips. The forceful thrusts of his cock made her drool uncontrollably, strands of spit dripping down her chin, soaking her face, and coating her hair.

"Mmmm, glurk, gulck.. Daddy, pleashh... guck-ahh... harder... *slurp*"

The old fucker's eyes burned with raw desire as he took in the sight of Sana's saliva-slicked face, her eyes glazed with lust. He wanted to push her limits, to see just how far she would go to please him. With a growl, he reached behind and tightened his grip on her hair, pulling her head back even further, causing her mouth to stretch wider.

"You want it rough, bitch? You want me to fuck your face until you're a drooling mess?"

Sana's body trembled with anticipation, her voice filled with need. "Yes, Daddy," she gasped, her voice laced with desire. "I want it rough. Make me your obedient cum dump."

Who was he to deny her request? Not when she was looking at him with those hazy lust filled eyes. Nay, impossible to deny.

His thrusts became even more forceful, his cock slamming into her mouth, jackhammering her head into the couch so hard her head bounced off the couch with each thrust.

Her eyes watered from the overwhelming sensations, her mascara running in dark rivulets down her cheeks, her lipstick long gone. Her once pristine face and hair smeared with her frothy saliva - and yet she asked for more.

"*Gulck* *gluck* Ohh... *glock* Y-yes, Daddy... *gawk* Fuck me... *gawk* harder!

In no time at all, the old geezer neared his climax, his thrusts grew quicker and more desperate. He could feel the pressure building in his balls, the need to release his pent-up desire growing stronger with each passing second. With one final deep thrust, he erupted, his cum shooting down Sana's throat.

"Ahh... fuck... cumming! fill that slutty mouth... Take it all bitch!"

Sana's muffled cries of pleasure mixed with the sound of his cum splattering against her throat. Her tongue worked tirelessly, collecting every drop she could as she eagerly swallowed his load.

Oh fuck, he's cumming! God it's too much she thought, feeling the hot jets of his seed shooting down her throat. The taste was intense, a mixture of saltiness and musk that coated her senses. "Gleugh," she gagged, feeling the sheer volume of his cum filling her mouth.

For a whole minute, his hot seed flowed continuously, filling her mouth and dripping up her inverted face. The thick ropes of cum covered her eyes, blocking her vision, while the rest streamed down her face, leaving trails of sticky warmth in its wake. Her hair became a canvas for the pearly liquid, as it clung to the strands, marking her with its unmistakable essence. 

Coughing and gagging as the sheer volume overwhelmed her, Sana fought to swallow as much as she could. The old fuck came with such force that his cum still overflowed from her mouth, droplets cascading down her chin and onto her chest. She was a mess, a cum-drenched masterpiece, and yet, a smile played on her lips, a testament to her insatiable desire for pleasure.

As he finally finished, he pulled out of her mouth, and Sana gasped for air, her body still trembling with pleasure. She licked her lips, savoring the remnants of his cum, relishing in the mixture of their combined flavors. Her tongue swirled around, collecting every last trace of his cum.

But the old man wasn't done yet. With a firm grip on her hair, the old man guided her mouth towards his throbbing cock. He tilted her head back, exposing her open, willing mouth. A wicked glint danced in his eyes as he unleashed a torrent of warm piss, aiming it directly into her waiting mouth. The Japanese idol's lips parted, allowing the golden stream to enter, and she swallowed obediently, taking in his salty offering. The taste mingled with the remnants of his cum, creating a perverse cocktail that both excited and humiliated her.

Sana's eyes widened in shock and arousal as she gulped down his piss, feeling the degrading warmth slide down her throat. She obediently swallowed every drop, her body trembling with a mixture of humiliation and twisted pleasure. As the last drops of his piss trickled into her mouth, Sana swallowed it all, her body consumed by a mix of pleasure and humiliation.

She looked up at him, her face still glistening with his cum and her mouth tainted with his piss. A wicked smile played on her lips as she whispered, "Thank you, Daddy. I'm your filthy little cum dump."

The old fuck's eyes burn with a primal hunger as he watches Sana, still catching her breath from the mind-numbing skull fucking, her lips glistening with his essence. With a commanding presence, he grabs her by the waist and flips her over, positioning her on the couch in a prone position. 

"Not done yet bitch. I took a pill so we'll be here all night long. Now, ass up." *Spank!*

Next Chapter: 1-2 Sana Arc; Free Use (TBC)

#sana smut #twice smut

[solarmorrigan]

(Slight disclaimer: I haven't seen S2 in almost a year and parts of it are hazy, so if some details here seem repetitive/don't quite match up... don't worry about it, I love you <3)

cw: anxiety, mentions of past child abuse

-

Steve had not, for the record, wanted to spend his Saturday tromping around by the stream in the woods searching for tadpoles. He’d wanted to go to the movies, or maybe get lunch, or even just hang out, but Dustin had insisted, and now Steve is slopping through the muddy grass and trying to figure out if there’s any way he can get them home without getting the inside of his car filthy.

(Probably not.)

It’s not that he’s opposed to getting his hands dirty when he needs to, it’s just that hunting for baby frogs doesn’t seem like a need to Steve, no matter what Dustin says. He probably shouldn’t be such a pushover for the kid, but– Steve’s actually a little worried about him.

He’s been in a nasty mood for the last couple of weeks, alternating between snappish and sullen, throwing biting comments at Steve that go beyond his usual know-it-all lilt, or else going silent and only shrugging when Steve tries to ask him questions.

And Steve’s trying not to take it personally; they’d hung out a lot through the winter and on into the new spring, and he knows Dustin isn’t normally like this, and he doesn’t think it’s anything he’s done (Dustin keeps seeking him out, so it’s probably not him), but it’s definitely something. So when Dustin had actually suggested something for them to do, had actually seemed excited about it, Steve had been hard pressed to say no.

Even if it meant mud.

“Hey,” Steve calls as Dustin pulls ahead of him to start climbing down the embankment that pens in the stream. “Watch it, alright? It’s slippery.”

“I know what I’m doing, Steve,” Dustin snaps, and Steve can practically hear him rolling his eyes.

“Fine, sorry for giving a shit if you break your leg or something,” Steve mutters, beginning the precarious trip down the embankment himself. “You don’t have to bite my head off.”

Dustin sighs. “Whatever.”

Steve shakes his head. He really hopes this isn’t just the start of puberty, or something. He doesn’t think he can handle another four or five years of this attitude.

(He doesn’t even question it anymore, the assumption that he’ll be around as Dustin continues growing up; it just seems like kind of a given.)

“So what are we doing here, again?” Steve asks when they reach the stream.

“I told you: we’re looking for tadpoles.” Dustin tosses a glance at Steve. “Baby frogs.”

“Yeah, dude, I know what a tadpole is, I did actually pass second grade science,” Steve snarks back. “Why are we looking for them, though?”

“I need them for school. For a science project,” Dustin says, peeling off to start looking in the shallow edges of the stream.

“Right…” Steve moves off in the opposite direction, looking for the shape of a thing he remembers seeing in a science textbook probably too many years ago.

They search in silence for a little bit, nothing but the sound of the woods and babble of water between them, but Steve keeps half his attention on Dustin even as he looks. If the kid falls in the stream and drowns, Claudia will never forgive him. He twitches a little when he watches Dustin skid over a rocky patch on the bank, but he finds his footing quickly enough, so Steve keeps his mouth shut.

“You’re not gonna, like, experiment on these things, are you?” Steve asks idly, finally tiring of the silence.

“Of course not!” Dustin exclaims. “I’m just gonna study ‘em. I’ll give them a good home and everything!”

“Alright, alright.” Steve holds up his hands in surrender. “Just checking that it’s not going to end up like the last time you brought in something weird from outside.”

Dustin stops walking, going quiet for a long moment, and when he turns around Steve is startled to see that he looks pissed.

“I’m not actually an idiot, Steve!” he barks. “I can tell the difference between a frog and some kind of alien monster!”

“Okay, sorry, I didn’t–”

“It’s not like I saw D’art and thought he was anything from around here!” Dustin goes on, stalking back towards Steve. “I didn’t think he was just some kind of fucked up frog! I knew he was something different, there was scientific merit in wanting to study him, and I’m sick of everyone acting like it was just some stupid mistake!”

“I didn’t mean to– Careful!”

Steve has no time to do much more than shout a warning and throw out a useless hand as Dustin goes skidding back over the slick, rocky patch, then slips and goes down hard, catching himself on his hands and one knee.

“Shit, Henderson, are you okay?” Steve is kneeling in front of Dustin in a blink, already searching for visible injuries; he’s probably fine, it hadn’t looked like he’d hit anything vital on the way down, but it couldn’t hurt to just check.

Dustin doesn’t move, his head still hanging between his shoulders, his back so tense he’s almost trembling, and worry starts to bloom in the pit of Steve’s stomach.

“Henderson?” Steve tries again, and that’s when he hears it – the sniffle.

Shit.

“Hey. Dustin,” Steve says, slipping into the same calm, firm register he uses when he’s lifeguarding, without even realizing he’s done it (honestly, he’d had to deal with a lot more kids with scraped knees than he had potential drowning victims when he’d worked at the public pool); he cups his hand over the back of Dustin’s neck, squeezing gently to get his attention. “I need you to let me see. I need to make sure you’re alright.”

Slowly, Dustin shifts so that he’s sitting with both knees bent in front of him, though he keeps his head bent down – and that’s fine, Steve won’t make him look up just yet. Instead, he does a quick inspection of everything else; both of Dustin’s palms are a little scraped up, and one is bleeding a bit, but it’s his knee that got the worst of it. It looks like it caught and scraped on the sharp edge of a rock, leaving a bleeding strip of skin that curves across the surface of it.

(It probably wouldn’t have been so bad if Dustin hadn’t insisted on wearing shorts in March, but whatever. Now really isn’t the time to argue about practical fashion.)

“Okay, this looks like a pretty shallow scrape. I bet it stings like hell, but it’ll be a million times better once we get it cleaned up,” Steve says, framing the wound with gentle fingers, careful to avoid the drip of blood streaming down Dustin’s shin.

Still, Dustin says nothing. He’s practically trembling now, sniffling again, and Steve frowns.

“Did you hurt yourself anywhere else?” he asks.

Dustin shakes his head.

“Are you sure? Did you hit your head when you went down? You should let me–”

“I’m not hurt, Steve, Jesus fucking Christ!” Dustin snaps, finally looking up; his cheeks are red and his eyes are watery and he’s clearly trying hard to hold everything in, so Steve does his best not to rock the boat too hard.

“Okay,” he says, low and smooth, still stuck halfway in crisis management mode, “then can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Everything!” Dustin chokes. “Fucking everything is wrong, okay? I keep – I keep having nightmares and I feel like I haven’t slept in weeks and I’m so tired.” He loses the fight with his tears and they finally spill over, running down his face. “And my mom was talking about Mews the other day, like, just stuff he used to do, and she misses him even though we have Tews, and sometimes I feel like I killed the stupid cat, and I just–”

“Shit, dude, I’m sorry.” Steve reaches up and cups his hand right at the juncture of Dustin’s shoulder and neck, giving him another gentle squeeze. “You didn’t kill your cat, okay?”

Dustin gives a congested snort that’s distinctly lacking in his usual derision. “Yeah, I know that about the same as I know there’s nothing coming to get me at night, but I still can’t sleep.” He sniffs again, reaching up and trying to smear his tears away with the back of his hand. “I’m so done with this, I just– I want it to be over. It’s supposed to be over.”

There’s a little tremor in Dustin’s voice, and Steve’s heart breaks a little bit, because he knows exactly what Dustin means – he knows what the nightmares are like, he knows the guilt over things you can’t change, he knows the feeling of jumping at shadows. And fuck, the kid’s still so young.

(Never mind that Steve’s not even scraping nineteen yet. Never mind that.)

He should probably talk to an actual professional, or something—get some real help—but Steve isn’t sure there’s anyone out there that Dustin can talk to about government coverups and literal monsters from a hell dimension beneath their town. He’s not sure if there’s anyone even qualified. And while Steve sure as hell doesn’t feel qualified to do anything, either, he’d been there with Dustin when it happened, and he’s here with Dustin now, so he’s going to do his best.

“Okay, c’mere,” Steve says, giving one of Dustin’s arms a tug.

Dustin doesn’t argue, doesn’t even question him, and that’s almost more alarming than anything else; he follows Steve a few feet over to a grassy patch at the foot of the embankment and leans heavily into Steve’s side when they sit down again. The grass is a little wet, but Steve doesn’t even feel it as he wraps an arm around Dustin’s back and pulls him closer.

They spend a minute with Dustin’s face half buried in Steve’s shoulder before Dustin gives a muffled grunt of annoyance and tries to pull away. “This is bullshit,” he mutters.

Steve quashes the way he wants to flinch at the declaration and looks down at Dustin instead. “What?”

“Sitting here crying my ass off. It’s stupid. I’m being a baby,” Dustin says, trying to wipe his face clean even as more tears replace the ones he’s just dried away.

“It’s not stupid. Crying is normal,” Steve says.

Dustin scoffs, still trying to pull out of Steve’s hold, but Steve keeps a hand in the middle of his back, unwilling to let him go far.

“I’m serious,” Steve insists. “It’s, like, a normal body reaction, or something. It happens. People cry.”

“You don’t,” Dustin shoots back, and Steve can’t help the instinctive huff of this-isn’t-actually-funny-at-all laughter.

“Yeah, man, because I’m kinda fucked up.”

It’s clearly not the reaction Dustin is expecting, and he stares up at Steve with furrowed brows. “What?”

And– well, fair’s fair, isn’t it? Dustin told Steve what’s bothering him, so Steve can open up a little bit in return, can’t he?

Besides, he can’t really think of any other way to convince Dustin that he’s not just pulling some cool, tough guy shit.

No, he doesn’t stop to cry, but it’s hardly even a choice anymore.

“I used to cry really easily, actually,” Steve says, looking away from Dustin and staring out at the stream instead. “Like, over everything. Literally cried over a glass of milk I spilled once.”

Dustin gives a wet huff of laughter, and Steve allows himself the tug of a quick smile.

“My dad fucking hated it. He was always telling me to stop whining, stop crying, stop acting like–” –a little bitch, Steven. Alright, maybe Dustin didn’t need to hear everything his dad had said to him. “He said I needed to toughen up, be a man. The last time I really cried, I was, like, nine, I think? I don’t even remember what it was over, I just remember that it pissed my dad off. And he said he’d give me something to cry about, and, uh–”

Steve can feel Dustin going tense under his palm, as if he’s afraid of what comes next, and that’s fine. Steve has no problem stopping there; it’s not a story he’d relish retelling in its entirety.

“Anyway, after that, I just kinda… made myself stop. Just like he wanted. And honestly?” Steve blows out a breath, still staring hard at the stream. “It just makes everything worse, holding that shit in. Makes you feel like shit.”

Makes you want to make other people feel like shit, too, because at least it’s an outlet.

“So, whatever. ‘Be a man.’ That’s bullshit.” Steve has known for years that his dad is an asshole, that the things he says are shit, and maybe he’s never known what to do in the face of it, maybe he’s never reacted in a way that’s healthy or even safe, but that doesn’t mean he has to spread the disease around. “Don’t be like me, man, be like you. Cry if you have to.”

Slowly, Dustin wilts back into Steve’s side, curling up under his arm and burying his face half in Steve’s shoulder again.

“You’re actually really smart sometimes,” Dustin mumbles against Steve’s shirt, and Steve snorts.

“Yeah, once in a while I might have some shit worth listening to.”

Dustin’s shoulders start shaking again, so Steve slings his arm more tightly around his back, and Dustin wraps an arm around his middle and clutches at Steve’s sweatshirt. At this point, it’s probably beyond stained with mud and snot and the blood from Dustin’s palms, but Steve can’t really bring himself to care. It’s not like it’s his favorite.

It isn’t the most comfortable place for a breakdown; March in Indiana is still chilly, and the grass is still damp, and the ground is hard, and Dustin’s cap keeps jabbing Steve in the collarbone, but Steve isn’t going to move until Dustin is ready. So they stay a while.

(Steve does end up knocking Dustin’s cap off, because it really is annoying, but he can’t help the little trill of fondness that goes through his chest when he realizes that he can faintly smell the shampoo he’d recommended to him.)

Finally, Dustin pulls away with a heavy sigh, snatching his hat back up and placing it firmly on his head, and Steve takes that to mean that it’s time to go.

“Alright, I’ve got a first aid kit in the car, and I think we can at least tape you together long enough to get back to my house,” Steve says, heaving himself up off the ground.

“We didn’t find any tadpoles, though,” Dustin says, looking back at the stream. “I seriously do need some for my project.”

“We can come back tomorrow,” Steve says, even though he really doesn’t want to spend his Sunday tromping around by the stream in the woods searching for tadpoles.

“Yeah?” Dustin aims a hopeful little smile up at him. “Can I stay over?”

Steve shrugs. “If your mom says it’s fine, yeah.”

(They both know she will.)

“Awesome.” Dustin grins, but it’s a pale shadow of its usual intensity; the kid looks wrung out.

Steve glances up the embankment and then looks back at Dustin.

“Hey,” he says. “You want a lift?”

Dustin, who had been preparing to start the climb back up, looks over at him in confusion. “What?”

“Up the hill.” Steve jerks his head towards the incline.

“How?”

“Piggyback ride. One-time offer.”

“Dude, it’s steep as shit. And I just had a growth spurt,” Dustin scoffs. “There’s no way you can carry me up that thing.”

Steve smirks. “Wanna bet?”

“What do I win?” Dustin asks.

“You get to pick the movie when we get back to my house,” Steve offers.

Dustin chews it over for a moment, then nods. “Deal.”

“Deal.” Steve kneels down. “Hop on. And try not to choke me.”

When Steve stands up again, Dustin settled against his back, he realizes he may have slightly overestimated his own abilities; light, Dustin is not (the kid’s almost fourteen now, Jesus H. Christ), but Steve isn’t one to back down from a challenge.

He starts up the embankment.

“When I win, after you drop us both back down the hill,” Dustin says, “I’m gonna pick Ghostbusters.”

Steve groans. They’ve watched that movie a hundred times now, and he has his limits. “When we get to the top, and I win, I’m going to pick anything but Ghostbusters.”

“Dream on, Steve,” Dustin pats his chest, and Steve keeps climbing.

They’re about halfway up when Dustin laughs in his ear, clutching more tightly around Steve’s neck as the incline gets steeper. “Holy shit, you’re actually doing it!”

“Told you,” Steve says, proudly sounding only a little strained.

He does have to drop Dustin’s legs and use his hands to make sure he doesn’t lose his balance when they get near the top, which does result in Dustin choking him, but Steve gets his revenge by wiping the excess mud on his palms off on the front of Dustin’s shorts once they get over the edge of the embankment.

(“Dude, what the hell!”

“You were already muddy!”)

Still, Dustin laughs and chatters all the way back to the car, still a little more quietly than usual, but Steve doesn’t think he’s seen him smile this much in weeks, so the strain he can already feel setting up in his legs and back is probably worth it.

And they will not be watching Ghostbusters (again) when they get back to his house, but maybe he’ll pick one of the Star Wars movies instead.

He can’t fix everything for Dustin, but he can at least make sure they have a good night – and sometimes, that’s good enough.

[Prompt: Piggyback rides]

#steve harrington #dustin henderson #steve & dustin #brotherly steve harrington and dustin henderson #stranger things #steve harrington vs. toxic masculinity: round 1 #no really this is soft as hell I promise #there are hugs #solar wrote

[kanri-domo]

Characters: Il Dottore, AMAB! Reader

Warnings: Non-Con, Torture, Kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome, Drugs

A tale of three failed escapes.

I.

It's dark. Dottore has no idea where he is or how he even got here. The last thing he remebered was storming off after a useless meeting, annoyance clouding his mind, fully intent on returning to his precious experiment. Yet, somehow, he was now in a dark cell, with the only light coming from behind a locked door.

With each little movement, the chains that bind him down clank. There's a cuff around his ankle and collar around his neck, both heavy and securely locked with a sturdy padlock, with chains that lead to the bedframe, which is bolted to the ground unfortunately. The chains aren't long enough for Dottore to go anywhere close to the door either, frustratingly enough.

"You're awake!" The door creaks open, finally. In enters a person Dottore does not recognize yet feels vaguely familiar.

"I've been waiting for you to wake up for so long," you complain, "I think I used too much sedative, but I was worried you'd wake up while I was still getting everything ready! Thank the archons you've enhanced yourself as much as you have - I think the dosage would've killed a normal person."

This person, Dottore thinks incredulously, is fucking crazy. To attack a harbinger - Dottore himself no less - is one thing. It's expected to for them to have some enemies, but it's whole other thing for someone to drug and kidnap one.

You prattle on for even longer, slender fingers twirling around a set of keys. Dottore stopped paying attention, no longer interested. If you were stupid enough to flaunt off the keys to his chains, then it would only be prudent for him to waste as little time necessary to escape and give you a slow death for the trouble you've caused.

The moment you walk into his range, Dottore snaps. He might be a researcher and scientist at heart, but he was the second for a reason and it doesn't take much to overpower you.

Dottore knocks you out with a strong blow to the head. It's disgusting how weak you are, he grumbles to himself, kidnapped by a stupid weakling.

As he turns around to unlock the cuffs around his ankle and neck, he fails to notice you getting back up, brushing off the blow as if it were nothing. It's not until he's shrieking in pain from an electrical shock that breaks him out of his concentration, and to his horror, face-to-face with you.

"Sorry, darling," you purr, "I'm afraid it's not going to be that easy. But hey, since you're so excited to be here, why don't we get started with lesson one?"

Dottore's vision is darkening, but he watched angrily as you place your hands around his throat and squeeze. The last thing he sees before he passes out - whether it be from the electrical shock or the lack of air, Dottore doesn't know - is the crazy glint of excitement that he'd seen in himself many times before. Dread pools in his stomach and everything goes black.

II.

Dottore was tired. There's a bone-deep tiredness that's been persisting ever since you'd kidnapped him. How long has it been? A month? Two months? No natural light enters the cell that you keep him in and the only other indicator of time passing is you coming and going.

There are bruises all over him; you liken it to adding color to a canvas, each one blooming into blues, purples, and blacks. Everything hurts. There's dried semen on his thighs and chest, but it's easier to ignore compared to everything else.

Dottore automatically stiffened at the ominous creaking of the door opening. You step in, humming cheerfully. In your hands is a tray of disgusting, horrendous slop. Dottore looks away from you, unwilling to submit himself to your whims despite the gnawing hunger.

"Ah, this game again?" You ask, amusement coloring your voice. "When will you learn," you tut. You say more words, but he's not listening, too tired to care. You roll your eyes at him before placing the slop on the ground and leaving.

The door closes behind you, but it lacks the distinctive click of the lock. The sound of footsteps getting feinter and feinter indicates you leaving though.

Dottore stares. There's no way you'd forget to lock the door... Would you?

It's dumb, and maybe it's the pain and exhaustion that fuels this escape attempt. It's so painfully obvious that it's a trap, but Dottore is nothing if not desperate.

Tugging at the chains, the loosened links came free. Hesitantly, Dottore stalked towards the door, afraid to make too much noise, lest you come back to investigate.

Peeking out the door, he sees no one. Despite the fear and the gut instinct of something feeling wrong coursing through him, Dottore refused to retreat back into the cold embrace and safety of the cell behind him. There's another door a small distance ahead, an exit perhaps?

Dottore takes his first steps towards freedom, before breaking into a run, hurrying before you come back. He would escape, he would -

A sharp pain from his head stops him in his tracks - or rather, you slam him into the wall does. Dottore sees stars and before he knows it, he's on the ground, blood bleeding out and running down his face.

"I'm going to kill you," Dottore snarls weakly, dizziness and pain quickly overtaking his senses, "I'm going to cut you into pieces and burn you alive," he slurs.

You laugh. Dottore is already weak from the time he's spent with you, and the head injury doesn't help, so it doesn't take much for you to hold him down despite his struggling. You unzip your pants, and Dottore stills.

"This is your punishment, darling," you coo as he started hyperventilating beneath you. You're not kind, Dottore had found out early on, but usually your punishments were physical, not sexual. Sex only happened after you'd coerced him into it in exchange for something else. Never as a punishment.

Your dick is objectively big, but for some reason, it feels even bigger than usual when you penetrate him. You don't bother to stretch or lube him up, and Dottore feels the lack of preparation keenly. It's painful and slow, and the whimpers the escape him would've been embarrassing if the pain of his insides rearranging themselves to make way for you wasn't as painful as it was.

By the time you bottomed out, Dottore was only moments away from passing out, but a sharp slap across the face brought him back.

"Ah - ah," you taunt, "if you black out now, I'd have to punish you even more later."

Without warning, you pull out before proceeding to slam yourself back in. Dottore howled at the suddenness, and the overwhelming feeling of pleasure and pain began to mix together as you fucked him senseless. Soon, blood slickened your movement and your roughness smoothed into a steady pace. Your hands grip onto his thin waist, nails digging into thin flesh, undoubtedly leaving even more marks. You fuck him like a ragdoll, and Dottore was helpless to stop you.

The harsh pace is unforgiving, and by the time you've cum, Dottore was extremely close to blacking out again. You cum inside him, painting his insides white. The feeling of fullness was overwhelming, Dottore whined, his own cock hard, yet lacking the necessary enough stimulation to get a release.

You laugh at him, looking down on him as if he were a dumb bitch in heat. You take pity on him - or at least Dottore assumes you do - and dig your fingers into his prostate. It takes several harsh jabs before he spills all over himself, and Dottore silently curses his masochistic tendencies. But, at the very least, you seem to have had your fill, he relaxes, letting exhaustion fill him.

"This isn't the end of your punishment, unfortunately for you," You taunt, "You belong to me, and only me, you know? It seems my silly pet still wants to escape, so I need to make sure I train you well. I need to make sure you know, and your body knows, that I'm the only person who will ever love you!"

The last thing he sees is the sadistic gleam in your eyes, a familiar look that Dottore no doubt had on his own face once upon a time.

He blacks out, body aching and terror griping his heart.

The next time Dottore wakes up, he’s back in the dark, cold cell. There's something - a vibrator - in him, and he's tied down to the bed. You've taken everything: his pride, his freedom, and his dignity. You've crushed it beneath your heel and the only thing Dottore could do was laugh at the irony until he cried.

The mad scientist sobbed and screamed into the unforgiving darkness, unable to move and unknowing of when you'd return.

III.

He's wet and shivering. Archons, why was he so stupid. To run away when you loved him when you took good care of him.

Dottore was hiding in an alleyway a couple blocks away from where you'd kept him captive, not that he knew where the hell he was. It's definitely still in Snezhnaya, if the amount of snow meant anything, but it was a big enough country that Dottore still had no idea where he was.

He could go back, but... The thought of your anger, however, was enough to hesitate. Besides, he still was loyal to the Tsaritsa, and still had a duty to the Fatui... didn't he?

Angry stomps interrupted his thoughts. No, dread pools in his guts, it seems, you had already found him before Dottore could make any decision at all.

You stare at his pathetic form, face blank of any emotion.

Dottore pathetically crawled towards you, body already numb from the cold. He could salvage this, he thought desperately, you loved him, after all. You'd forgive him... Right?

"M' sorry," he mewled pathetically, clinging onto your pants, "I didn't mean to," he adds. He practically kneeling in the snow, too weak to get up, as well as trying to act as submissive as possible. The collar around his neck feels heavy, despite being only made of leather. You'd placed it there, changing it from the heavy lead to a lighter leather, calling it a reward for good behavior.

But Dottore had misbehaved, and now, you're angry.

"It seems," you sigh, and the next words that come out of your mouth freeze Dottore even more than the cold did, "that I still haven't trained you well enough."

Dottore opened his mouth - to beg, to scream, he didn't know - but before he could, the sharp jab of needle made its way into his neck, and you injected a strong sedative into him. Dottore slumped down into the snow, misery filling his wretched heart and vision darkening.

.

.

He wakes up strapped to an examination table. The table beneath him is warm, but the air is as cold as ever, and Dottore shivers. His mouth is being forced open by a ring gag and his legs were forced apart by a spreader bar. There's something huge inside of him, it stretches out his hole to a burning degree.

"Finally awake, dear?"

Dottore tilted his head to look towards you. There’re no emotions on your face, and you're holding a bottle filled with a clear liquid.

He whines, a last-ditch attempt at placating you. It's useless, he knows, it's already too late for him. The room is cold, but the trembles that wrack his body stem from fear.

You ignore him, opting to instead pour the contents of the bottle down his throat. It doesn't take long for Dottore to figure out what exactly you'd given him.

The aphrodisiac that you give him is strong. Dottore couldn't help but jerk and fight against the restraints, the burning need for stimulation becoming overwhelming.

You laugh at him, and instead of relieving him, you turn on something beside you, and in turn, the thing that's inside of him - a dildo - starts moving in and out. At first, the pace is slow, slow enough that he couldn't help but whine for more, but within moments, speeds up into a harsh pace.

"I think that should be good for now," you hum. Dottore's moans and breathy screams permeated the air. Even the slightest of touches from you were quickly becoming too much.

It doesn't take long before the first spurts of cum spill out, but the machine is unbudging, and so are you.

"A- ahh!" The need for more and feeling of too much clash, Dottore cries, feeling overwhelmed. You're laughing at him he notes out of the corner of his eye. He’s squirming against the restraints even more now, desperate to escape.

It's too much, he thinks; I'm going to die.

The machine continues to fuck him. It's going to fuck him to death, Dottore can't help but think hysterically, he's going to die here, still trapped by your love.

With another rough thrust, Dottore cums again. And again. And again. And again.

You're still watching him as the drugs wear off, as his dick softens, yet the machine still continues to thrust into his loose hole, unable to even clench down. There's no way he could cum again, but the machine continues to wring orgasm after orgasm out of him, even if no liquid spills out.

It takes one last dry orgasm before you finally stop the machine mid-thrust. Your hands softly run across his body, each feather-light touch makes him twitch and jerk, body too sensitive. With swift hands, you remove the gag. Dottore quickly snapped down, wishing he was able to rub his sore jaw.

"Well," you ask, "what do you have to say for yourself?"

Dottore trembled under your harsh stare, breaths coming out uneven and short.

You frown. You reach out to pet him on his head this time, each pet soft and kind. "You know I love you, right? I'm only doing this for your sake," you tell him, "The Fatui are no good for you. You belong here, with me."

"Look at you, so wrecked and slutty. This is what you're born for, you're a perfect whore," you add, "So give up, Zandik, I'm the only one who'll love you no matter what, so be good for me, m'kay?"

Dottore Zandik sobbed, dam bursting open, tears spilling. You were right, weren't you? His parents hadn't loved him, the Fatui hadn't cared enough to find him.

Only you would love a monster like him.

"I love you," he hears you say, and it hurts to hear. There's a part of him that's screeching, angry that you've reduced him to such a pathetic, humiliating state.

The rest of him is quiet though. He's given up. You love him, so you're only doing this for his sake, his mind rationalizes.

"Love you," he mumbles between the sobs and tears, "I love you. I'm s- sorry for running, for being no good."

You smile gently down at him, but your eyes are cruel and cold. You're satisfied by his obedience.

Zandik cried and cried, the reality of his situation finally settling in. There was no escape from you; your love was drowning him and finally, Zandik let himself be drowned.

#dom reader #sub genshin impact #sub dottore #dottore #genshin impact #genshin impact smut #dottore x reader #yandere reader #amab reader #but can be read as nb reader #dead dove do not eat #tw kidnapping #tw torture #stockholm syndrome #tw drugs

[writingoddess1125]

You Cook For them even though you suck at it-

Buggy, Luffy, Zoro, Usopp, Shanks, Mihawk

Buggy

You you offer to cook for him he is hesitant. Buggy is actually a great cook and will take over making food for you if he catches you in the kitchens of the Big Top.

"I don't know about that (Y/N)-" He would say quickly as you smile at him.

"It will be fine I promise! I've gotten better!" No the fuck you hadnt- he shouldn't have trusted you with this when you set down a bowl of slop.

"Oh What the fuck (Y/N)!? What is this?! Why is it still moving?" He yelled poking some form of meat with a spoon and watching it twitch back.

"It's just rare!" You argue back. "Rare my ass!!" He yelled before forcing himself to take a bite.

He quite literally falls apart to the ground.

Luffy

Luffy would be excited that you offered to cook for him. Being too happy to ignore the weird smell from the kitchen and from the bowl you set down.

He quickly tucked in, eating away at the bowl until it was gone and smiling brightly at you.

"Thank you for the meal (Y/N)!" He said cheerfully, you smiled excitedly.

"Did it taste good?" He stares at you for a moment like he was thinking. "No it was pretty disgusting" you stare at him shocked.

"Why did you eat it then?" You question at his bluntness of willing to eat something gross.

"Cause you made it!" Eh Good enough-

Zoro

Is equally as bad as a cook as you- So when the two of you come together it only means chaos.

"Zoro im going make us a special meal!" You chime, watching him nod and follow along.

In the kitchen he drinks as he watches you attempt to cook. Even using his sword to cut up random vegetables and fruit. Once done it is a jet black color pouring out purple steam- He stares at it a bit afraid before taking a bite.

Zoro body would lock up- Like he had been hit with electricity. His eyes beginning to water and he grabbed the booze again to down if quickly- all of it very quickly.

"....That was awful-"

He manages to groan out as he rubbed his face.

Sanji

Will be head over heals for you, and when you offer to cook for him his whole body freezes- His eyes wide and practically screaming to not have this done-

"M-My Love! My Sweet! No need for that I can cook for us!" He insist sweat hitting his brow.

"No No, You cook for us every night! Let me do it!" You'd insist and go into his kitchen. It would quickly turn into a battle of if he loved food more then you- Once he sees you hold the knife wrong and damn near cut off a finger he steps in.

Shaking his head at this and taking the knife from you.

"Please dont- Love you um.. are cookingly challenged- I'm taking over"

Before he kicks you out of his kitchen.

Usopp

Usopp has actually pretty good taste in food, He enjoys food and has been heavily pampered by Sanji's cooking and food he be served when visiting Kaya.

So when you offer him food at first he's happy and talks about his experiences as a 'Chef' but when you bring down a half burned and half raw fish that still seemed to be twitching and some other odd trimmings that seemed to be stewed.

"Uhhh (Y/N)- you made this?"

He would question as he stared at the questionable plate.

"Yep!" Hearing your cheery voice he tries to sweet talk and lie his way around eating it at first. But once you insist he would nod and take a hefty bite. His face draining of all color as he chewed, forcing himself to swallow as he sits frozen.

"Usopp?-"

He ends up fainting-

Shanks

Shanks will try anything once, however he found out early on that you couldnt cook- While he never openly confronts you about it he does know damn well you shouldn't be near a kitchen.

Once you offer to cook for him he is jovial as normal and supportive. However when you bring out the bowl of- what looked like what a sea beast would vomit he started to sweat. Taking a big swig of his booze before taking a bite.

His whole body shivered in disgust and paled. Slowly trying to chew as he gave you a watery smile.

"It's alright It's Alright-"

Shanks said, his face turning purple as he tried to keep the food from coming back up as quickly as it came.

Mihawk

While it may be surprising but Mihawk is the pickiest of eaters- So when you say you made him a meal, He tries to hold himself back from making any comments before he's seen it.

'Maybe it's not that bad?...'

He thinks as he takes a seat at the dining room table. Waiting quietly as he hears you clattering in the kitchen- however he knew knew it would be unpleasant when the smell hits him. You step out cheery and happy as a massive bowl is set infront of him. His eyes widened at the sight- he had seen many horrible things in his life but nothing like this-

"Why is it that color?-" He would ask as you explained away that you didn't know the exact ingredients to make it so you improvised. Mihawk took a shaky breath and leaned down to give a sniff- once the fowl odor hit his nose he pushed the bowl back.

"(Y/N) Darling. You can't cook- I can't eat this... I love you dearly but whatever is in this bowl has been damned"

#x reader #one peice x reader #one peice live action #one piece #buggy the clown x reader #buggy one piece #buggy x reader #one piece mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #monkey d. luffy x reader #luffy x reader #one piece luffy #zoro headcanons #zoro x reader #one piece zoro #roronoa zoro #usopp x reader #one piece usopp #god usopp #sanji x you #op sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #one piece sanji #shanks x reader #one piece shanks #shanks one piece #shanks

[indiefilmfatale]

Can you do a smut piece where steve and gator are absolutely destroying fem reader, maybe some spit and breeding kink in it?

yo we're doing these as separate headcannons bc i can't mentally comprehend clonecest in my horny little peabrain. gator loves spitting and stevie loves breeding you, oooobviously

it's really hard for gator to be soft. he just gets too excited in all of your heat and musk and his hard cock rubbing gently against the cloth of his army pants

like he barely participates in any foreplay because he can smell your cunt through your panties and can't help but shove you down on the bed and tear your underwear off in one foul swoop

and you're into it, but it doesn't exactly give you enough time to arouse yourself enough to be ready for him

to compensate, he kneels before your spread pussy, and lets a long string of spit dribble from your mouth and directly onto your clit

you're dizzy from the sight and feeling from it, head swirling, but he's too busy unzipping his pants and pulling his cock out-- not even bothering to take them off

and he just slams into you, causing an immediate whine in you as he splits your body with his cock with a coarse groan

he's pounding into you, hard and deep and you don't have time to adjust to his size before he's grabbing you by the throat and bringing his face close to your's

"goddamn, yur takin' me so well baby— shit." his hips are relentless and only quicken at the sound of you moaning at his words. "you sound so fuckin' pretty, open your mouth. open,"

but you don't really need to try, because his hands have moved up to your jaw and is squeezing your face so your lips pucker open

this time he spits aggressively in your mouth with a hard puh sound and you can taste the watermelon vapor in his saliva

"so good for daddy, that's it," he can feel your core tightening and throbbing around him, and he's done for

your back arches and the feeling of his tight grip on your throat and his big cock hitting you in the exact right spot... it's all too much. you crumple underneath him, orgasm clobbering you and you wrap your legs tighter around his hips with a "fuck, oh my god, i'm cumming..."

"that's it, honey, good girl, cum all over my cock.”

the slick of your orgasm creates these slopping pounding sounds as his thrusts grow faster and wetter as he chases his orgasm

he stops suddenly, shaky moans spilling from his mouth as his grip around you loosens and he buries his face in your neck

when he's calmed down, he climbs off of you immediately, leaving you as a limp body damp on his bed. he zips his pants, wipes his chin, mumbles a "thanks, darlin" before sitting back down at his desk and goes back to cleaning his gun

steve on the other hand is anything but aggressive

he prefers to take his time getting you nice and wet before he even thinks about taking care of himself-- kissing slowly down your body, palming at your nipples as he lovingly suckles on your clit, watching every wave of pleasure hit you

rubbing his groin against the end of the bed just enough to alleviate the throbbing agony of his hard untouched cock

and after he's sure you've cum at least once from his mouth, he kisses and licks and sucks his way back up to you, slipping his boxers off in the process. you can feel his sprung cock pressed against your wet core and you're all open and ready for him

when he pushes into you, it's slow and unsure and paired with a series of gasps at the relief

"n-not gonna last long, i'm sorry." he stutters, as if he hasn't already given you what you needed

"fuck me like you want, stevie. do whatever you want to me." you whisper past his hair and into his ear

he settles into a steady, agonizing rhythm and angling his hips upward so the tip of his cock rubs against your g-spot

but just because he's soft, doesn't mean he can't direct you to give him exactly what he wants, even if his words are snuggled between helpless moans and grunts

"can you.. mmph.. cum again for me babe? fuck— squeeze that perfect pussy around my fuuuck... fucking cock? mm-hm?"

and when you do, he's breathless. mouth open, heaving against your mouth, each exhale complimented with the perfect moans that grow higher in pitch with every thrust

you grip his back muscles and press him even closer to you as you cum, your tits pressing firmly against his chest as you spill pretty moans and convulse your thighs until their shaking

"i'm gonna-- i'm gonna-- please can i cum in you? please let me fill you baby, please please please." he's whining

you just nod feverishly as his cock warmths your cervix with his orgasm, his thrusts growing sloppy and slow.

then he kisses your sweaty forehead and rests his entire body on top of you, only pulling out of you to lower himself slightly and lay his head on your chest as you both catch your breath

#re: unproofed #steve harrington smut #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington x reader #gator tillman #gator tillman smut #gator tillman headcanons #joe keery smut #ask

[doukeshi-kun]

𝙣𝙞𝙠𝙤𝙡𝙖𝙞 + 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙘𝙖𝙩

notes ⨳ just... he is soo catcoded and i just need to write something about him and a cat. this is a messy drabble, so yeh, sorry!

contents ⨳ fluff, gn!reader

“Let's adopt him!”

Nikolai said, excitedly. On his palm, there was a small grey tabby kitten, slopping comfortably.

“What— Where did you even find him?” you asked, completely baffled when Nikolai suddenly barged into your shared bedroom with a confused cat in hand.

“Visited Dos this noon and he was outside the office!” Nikolai said before he crouched down on the floor in front of you — as you were sitting at the edge of the bed. He grinned cheekily, putting the kitten on your lap.

“My goodness, he's so small...” you cooed at the kitten, a soft smile crooked on your face. “Have you given him some food?” you asked your boyfriend who was adoring the kitten while resting his chin on your knee.

“Huh? Of course! I brought him around the town after that too! I mean, he was quite a crier even after I fed him, so I think— if kids can shut the hell up after getting ice cream, maybe the kitten would stop crying too. So I went on a mission! To get a consoling ice cream!” Nikolai rambled, telling his adventure with the cat to you while your finger softly caressed the kitten's head.

“And... was the ice cream for you or this little guy?”

“'Little guy'?! He is not just any ordinary little guy! He is my son! Our son!”

“Oh, absolutely. He is pretty similar to you after all.” you grinned before holding up the kitten right by Nikolai's head, comparing the two. Then, your other hand reached to the top of his head, stroking his fluffy hair.

“Kitty.”

“That should be my line.” Nikolai huffed, but he did not refuse your touch, letting you mess with his hair as you pleased.

“Haha! Not my fault you're looking similar to this kitty too. A white cat, if you will.” you replied. His eyes brightened before he took the kitten again, carefully resting him on his palm.

“What would be his name?” you asked. Nikolai hummed, thinking. He was silent for a few moments and you just kept stroking Nikolai's head while your finger teased the cat.

“Got it!”

“Yeah?”

Nikolai jovially held the cat higher, excitement drew over his face.

“Papa gonna name you 'Theodore', son!”

“That... That sounds too familiar, no?”

©doukeshi-kun 2022 — do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, more @cherikolya

if you like my works, consider buy me a ko-fi!

#道化師-jest❃ུ۪ #nikolai x reader #bsd x reader #nikolai imagines #bsd imagines #nikolai fluff #nikolai gogol x reader #bsd fluff #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader

[billthedrake]

(A wilder, horny one for today...)

PRO TOUR

He didn't need the money. Hell, he'd just won the big prize after a hard fought PGA event. This on top of the other money and endorsements that had been coming in.

But the fifty dollar bills laid down on the hotel bedside table was a turn on for Brandon Kelly. It was part of his kink.

As was the haughty chuckle by the next man in line. Number five. Deep Southern voice. "Damn, son, aren't you a sight?" the middle aged man laughed, unbuckling his belt. The words were loose, not quite slurred, but the country club daddy had been drinking the afternoon for sure.

Sometimes Brandon didn't even look to see who was gonna fuck him. But that voice was turning him on. He looked back to see a medium-height man, full dad bod build but solid ex-jock frame. Sunburned face, raccoon eyes from wearing sunglasses. Sweaty salt and pepper hair barely visible beneath the club ball cap he had on.

Brandon almost gasped as those shorts dropped. Southern Daddy wasn't the hottest guy who'd fuck him today, but he was definitely packing a majorly fat boner. Beer can territory.

"You know the price," was all the golfer said, though.

That got another lewd chuckle, as the man reached down to fish out his wallet. "All right, buddy. I thought I might get a freebie off ya, but fifty bucks is a bargain." He got a few bills, three twenties to give a little something extra to the early-30s pro stud. The man sauntered over and laid the cash on top of the growing pile, slowly to give Brandon a chance for a nice up close view of that daddy boner.

"Fucking PGA whore," came his growl as he got up on the bed.

Brandon wasn't sure if that was a question or a comment, but he said, "Yessir." He had on only his sponsorship-logo golf polo, a really expensive watch, and nothing else. The golfer lay face down on the mattress, the sheets a little damp from sweat and lube and the overflow cum. Brandon worked hard on his legs and his ass and he felt rough hands rub and grip the muscle appreciatively.

But Southern Daddy wasn't into foreplay. He gave a hard smack to the butt cheek then crawled right on top of Brandon's splayed body. Somehow, the middle aged guy felt firmer, more solid with that weight pressed on top of him.

Brandon acted a little slutty, maybe, hiking his ass back and doing the work to line that beer can up. The excess lube and cum did the rest, making that fatness pop right in.

"FUCK!" Brandon cried. But a hand clapped over his mouth.

"Quiet, you fucker!" the top breathed. Brandon could definitely smell the beer on his breath. Rather than be a turn off, it reminded him of losing is virginity at the country club back home.

That thick wedge was pressing in steadily now. The thing about beer can cocks is they feel even thicker going in on entry.

The daddy was excited as hell. "Jesus, son, you're still tight as fuck... after all evening, too." He grunted even deeper once he bottomed in. "Fucking slopping hole."

That hand stayed on Brandon's mouth but with less force. Instead, it was like the older man was using it for leverage as he threw his whole body into boning that golfer ass. Deep steady stroke, battering open the last of Brandon's natural tightness. It felt good, great even, until Southern Daddy started going harder.

"Shut up, slut... I paid good money for this," he growled.

Sixty bucks, Brandon laughed to himself. But that sum itself was part of the turn on. How much it undervalued his sexual worth. How it made the fuck so strictly transacitonal.

It was that idea that changed the discomfort back to pleasure and made the golfer's cock hard again against the sheets.

"God fucking damn, buddy..." came the daddy's hisses, so close to orgasm. Then that ex-jock body fucked Brandon with a few last hard thrusts and seized tight, a deep groan signalling that the pro golfer was getting seeded again.

Now, as the daddy collapsed onto Brandon's prostrate body, that weight felt really fucking heavy now. But after a second, the man climbed back off.

No talking now, he just grabbed the towel that was set by the bed. Wiping off he picked up his shorts again, put them on, rebuckled his belt and was out the door without a word.

Brandon felt more alive than ever. He hadn't expected this guy to push his buttons so much, but this fuck had hit him so deeply. But as he rolled back on his back, feeling the very slick cum deposit fresh in his hole, he reached down the gingerly touched his rock hard erection. He wondered if his brother had lined up anyone else.

Just then the key card sound came, then the door opened. This was Brandon's favorite part of anticipation, the couple seconds before he saw the next top, or before the next top saw what was in store for him.

This time it was Chase. Not changed from a day on the course, still looking hot as fuck. Huge smile on his face and a hard on in those golf shorts. "Hey bro.... couple of guys are still waiting but I couldn't hold off any more."

"I'm glad," Brandon said. "Though that last guy was incredible."

Chase smirked then walked over to the wad of cash. Picking up the bills, he counted the money, then stuffed it in his pocket. "God, if Dad could see you now," he said.

Brandon blushed. "Come on, Chase."

"Come on, what?" Even when giving the biggest put downs Brandon's little brother was cute as fuck. "I'm not the fucking whore in the family." Then in a more horny tone... "How sloppy are you, bro?"

Brandon leaned back, a smirk of his own forming. "Pretty damn wet."

Now it was Chase whose face got that horny serious look. "Gonna feed me, bro?"

Brandon nodded and scooted down in the bed, lifting his legs apart. Chase kicked off his sneakers and got up on the bed, right into his favorite place.

The two had learned what rhythm worked best. That brother tongue slowly lapping and soothing that fucked hole, getting used to the lube there, before venturing deeper. Some long probe, then shallow licks seemed to get the cum flowing.

This felt nasty the first time Chase felched him. It still did, but it was a ritual neither could get enough of. Particularly the younger golfer, who munched and feasted harder the more he got fed. Soon he was eating out practically clean pro-jock hole.

That wouldn't last long. Face reddened and spit wet, Chase pulled back and unzipped.

"Not gonna need lube," he announced. Indeed as he lined up that long, thick prick Brandon's hole seemed to accommodate without issue. Maybe it was his brother's eyes on his. Hungry, lusty.

"Good win today, bro," Chase hissed, feeling tight bro hole surround his cock.

Brandon's voice was hoarse with need. "For you, buddy..."

Chase's lips curled into an excited sneer. Then he began pounding Brandon's ass, with hard heavy thrusts. For a longer session, he'd go for distance more. But after the felching just now, he was worked up. He could still taste six men's seed on his tongue. "Mother fuck!" he cried. And seeded his brother's hole.

He was in a more affectionate mood when he withdrew. "You good for a couple more, bro?"

Brandon dropped his legs to the bed. This was the only part that embarrassed him, admitting to Chase that he still wanted other guys. But Chase's fuck had been quick, and Brandon still hadn't gotten off. "Yeah, I'm good."

Chase tucked in and zipped up. He laughed then leaned down to kiss his older brother. The first and only kiss Brandon Kelly would get that night.

"All right. I'll tell those fuckers to tip better, too," he smirked. "Just because you're a whore doesn't mean they can't be grateful."

God. even when putting him down his little brother could be sexy as fuck.

"Give me five, bro?" Brandon asked. "I gotta piss." He'd been going a solid hour without a break.

Chase nudged his chin and winked. "Take ten. It'll just make the next dude hornier."

And like that his brother was off to play pimp for the rest of the night.

#drakestories

[quinnyundertow]

Sanity’s Last Stop

Synopsis

England 1941

Forced to work after the death of her father y/n finds themselves filling a nurses role at Hillsboro Asylum for the Criminally Insane. The patients and workers alike have her questioning her own sanity in this new insular world during WWII.

Ryoumen Sukuna has become a fixture in solitary confinement for the last seven years. His sanity was barely there before but now it is frayed beyond redemption. A good will gesture brings him and y/n into a strange secret relationship

Okkotsu Yuta swears he isn’t insane he didn’t hurt anyone it was Rika who killed those people. Just because no one else can see her doesn’t mean she isn’t there. You believe him right?

AN: So excited to post this! Horror Dark Romance are my favorite genres so this is not going to be the same as my main fic. Please check the tags and trigger warnings!

Setting is England WWII I realize all the characters have Japanese names but there is no avoiding it with the original source material.

TW: Misogyny, Gaslighting, Gore

I made up Takeda Geto all others are from JJK.

Chapter 1

Mind Your Fingers

England 1941

“Stupid girl, what did I tell you about watching your fingers!” The old nurse yells in your ear, just about making you jump out of your skin. You are watching your fingers. You are being painfully careful so as not to accidentally touch anywhere near the open metal slat at the bottom of the heavy iron door. There is a two inch drop from the door’s mail slot style opening to the ground. Your fingers begin to tremble as you hold the tin tray, full of some slop they called lunch, halfway through the opening. Waiting for the person on the other side to take the proffered meal. The tips of your fingers are starting to turn white as you are only able to barely hold the end of the tray. The weight of it strains against you.

“W-what do I do if he doesn’t come to take his tray?” You ask, trying to keep your voice steady and sounding somewhat confident.

“Ungrateful spawn of satan.” The elderly nurse Ogami bites out, causing you to flinch at her disgusting words, “Drop it then. He’ll eat it off the floor or he won’t eat.”

Your heart twists painfully at the cruelty displayed. Even though the people residing here have committed terrible crimes the residents are still mentally disturbed and rely on you for care. “There has to be a better way?”

Nurse Ogami rolls her eyes, heaving a sigh that is meant to relay her annoyance with you, “Move girl.” Despite the woman’s liver spotted and wrinkled fingers she has surprising strength in them as she snatches the tray away from you and unceremoniously pushes it to the floor with a clatter. “Keep up this belligerent attitude young lady and you’ll be out on your luck before the month is out. You may think your special with your young looks and connections but there’s no room for error here.” When the old woman spins to you she has a malicious gleam in silver eyes. “The girl you replaced lost three fingers one night. Stupid girl pushed her hand too far in. Ryoumen was waiting just out of her line of sight and the second he saw one of her pretty tan fingers he grabbed her arm and pulled her to her elbow through the food slot. Bit each of those fingers off like he was eating part of his lunch.” You can’t help but shiver and wonder how much of the woman’s story is actually true.

Straightening your bleached white nurse's frock, you meet her eyes and respectfully dip your head, “Thank you for the warning head nurse, I'll be more careful in the future.” You pull the metal lever that shuts and locks the opening you utilized at the bottom of the door. Moving the wooden stepping stool, you thought to bring today, you push it against the door so you can see through the barred and glass protected window at the middle point of the door.

The massive man inside is easy to spot in the expanse of white. His dull orange almost pink hair is a brilliant flare of color in the otherwise stagnant room. It is a wild mess on his head, stroked backwards from repeat combing motions with his fingers. He sits hunched over at the edge of his cot. His entire frame is hulking and muscular and you wondered how he manages to maintain his physique while trapped here. His elbows are resting on his knees, hands knitted together as they flex sporadically. His face is downturned so you could barely see the bizarre facial scarring he had given himself before his capture. “Inmate Ryoumen Sukuna is accounted for.” The old woman says nothing as you step down and mark up the piece of paper you brought with you to make sure each patient receives their proper medication and meal.

You tuck the wooden stool under your arm before going to push the squeaky metal cart down to the last patient in this wing. “Just one left.”

The elderly woman grunts, turning her back to you, “You always feed those in solitary confinement last. They are being punished after all. They’re lucky they get two meals a day and a warm place to sleep. We have noble men on the front line dying from frostbite with empty bellies.” You had heard around the lunch table yesterday that old lady Ogami, as the other girls called her, is especially bitter due to her precious grandson being shipped off to somewhere in Yugoslavia to fight the German scourge. You can’t blame her for being bitter but you don’t feel like that means you have to treat the patients here worse.

The final painted white metal door S25 looks the same as every other one in this wing. Before Mrs. Ogami could comment, you push up your stool and peer in. The young man in this room is almost the exact opposite physically of the man you had just tried to feed in room S23. He is lanky and thin looking; under fed and malnourished. The second your eyes meet the back of his head the man turns suddenly his eyes locking on yours. His dark raven colored orbs met your own. No particular emotion is held there; the man just looks exhausted. Painted under his eyes are large dark circles, his eyes rimmed in red. You couldn’t help but wonder if they are red rimmed from crying or maybe they always looked like that. “Patient present.” Stepping down carefully, you give the stack of papers in front of you a once over .

Patient: Okkotsu Yuta

Sex: Male

Age: 27

The paragraphs below outlined his lack of dietary constraints, medication required and any other doctors notes. You can’t help but notice his notes from the doctor today stated that due to his consistent compliance he is recommended to be moved back to the institution's general population next week.

You make sure his tray is together. Complete with a small paper cup that has two little chalky pills inside to lower his anxiety. Taking the iron lever in hand you tug so that the meal slot screeches open. After giving Ryoumen his tray only moments earlier you can’t help but keep your fingers as far to the back as possible as you leaned to slip the tray into the three inch slot.

The ward is unusually quiet at the moment and due to this you can hear the inmate’s bare feet padding across the tile flooring. You feel the weight of the tray being released from your fingers as the person on the other side takes it gently from you. The man clears his throat before a soft spoken voice emanates from the slot, “Thank you.”

You are surprised as this is the first person today to thank you, “You’re Welcome.” Your response probably sounded happier than it should have but the tiny bit of kindness gives your day a bit of a silver lining.

“You do not speak to those in solitary confinement!” You wince in response to being scolded again.

“I’m sorry, head nurse” You hear a voice on the other side of the door mumble the apology. You bite your cheek instead of replying before repeating the same closing procedures you did at S23. Though when you look up to confirm the inmate is accounted for he is no longer looking in your direction.

As the two of you leave the solitary ward, your long gray dresses swish below you. You still aren’t used to the way everything looks the same in this institution. All the walls are white and not a picture is to be found as decoration. The only thing creating breaks in the staggering white landscape is an occasional sign directing those inside to various locations (Dispensary, Lobby, Clinic) or reminders to staff (When distributing medications check under the patient’s tongue for hidden pills, For Emergency Security dial 99 or pull panic alarm).

Despite any minor complaints you are incredibly grateful to have this job. Not only is the pay more than fair but it is in the field of medicine where you have always held interest. Maybe after you learn the ropes you can make a difference in the lives of those who live here.

You both pause before the heavy set of double doors that lead from Solitary. Demonstrating to the head nurse you are in fact learning you pull the string that rings the brass bell on the other side of the door and wait for security to unlock the door and permit your exit. The wait for the security officers to release you seems to vary from seconds to minutes depending on what is going on across the complex. Your anxiety always seems to ratchet up in the time from when the bell is rung until the large metal lock thunks and the door swings open.

The security guard who greets you on the other side of the door is grinning from ear to ear as he looks you over. “Did you have fun in there?” Your eyes flick to him briefly before pretending you didn’t hear him. His features are handsome and boyish. His fluffy white hair and striking blue eyes have a habit of pinning you in place when he addresses you. His frame is tall and muscular not that you were looking. You didn’t have to look to know his shirt has the name tag Gojo on it.

When you started here you had barely gotten your foot in the door before you were being warned about him by your fellow nurses. He was labeled a notorious flirt and womanizer. One to avoid if you want to keep your reputation clean and above all other warnings, do not fall in love with him.

The older woman looks like she is about to scold you or maybe even Gojo this time when her train of thought is interrupted. “Ah, there you are Y/n.” The familiar soothing tone nearby makes you look over with surprise and fondness. The entire reason you had ended up working in this facility was due to your father’s long term friendship with the esteemed facility director Dr. Takeda Geto. His son, Dr. Suguru Geto and your childhood friend stopped short of your small group. You couldn’t help the quick flush that covered your cheeks, at the attention. You had hoped to assimilate into the facility with as little fanfare as possible. The newest man to the group stopped and placed a hand affectionately on Gojo as they shared an almost conspiratorial grin. On the outside the two couldn’t be more dissimilar but it seems they had also cultivated a long term friendship.

You quickly curtseyed in response, keeping your head down. Despite your friendship with Suguru you wanted to be accepted in this job by your own merits rather than who you knew. Even if being hired hadn’t worked that way.

“Well if it isn’t the young master Dr. Geto.” the old woman doted; the young part surprising you as Suguru Geto had to be in his thirties now. Her tone is much more engaged than it had been at any point during your training this week. You couldn’t help the tiny quirk of your lips in amusement at the drastic change of mannerism.

Looking up you see Suguru has turned to the woman to address her while Satoru Gojo’s eyes are still locked onto you. His cerulean orbs twinkling in a mischievous manner. He is clearly noting your amusement despite your attempt at hiding it. You can't help but lift your hand to your mouth and clear your throat to cover your expression. Suguru turns at the noise flashing you a gentle smile before pushing his glasses higher up his nose. “How has training been going today?”

You look away to study a nearby sign pointing to the Security Desk, “Head nurse Ogami has been very kind and thorough in my training.” you respond respectfully.

Suguru Geto makes a long humming noise while Satoru Gojo outright laughs at the obvious lie. Anyone who has met the head nurse knows about her taciturn personality. Suguru ignoring Gojo gives Nurse Ogami a charismatic smile before noting, “I would expect nothing less from Mrs. Ogami. You can’t help but note the lack of formality he uses when he addresses the older woman now. The fondness you see in her face is not missed by you as she speaks with him. You can’t really blame the woman. Suguru Geto has been known for his charm and good looks for as long as you have known him. His familial wealth and status don’t hurt his public perception either. “Mrs. Ogami, I'd like to borrow nurse y/n for my lunch break if it doesn’t interfere with your schedule too much.”

Surprise evident in your expression, you look up at Suguru quickly, “I’m sorry Dr. Geto I already took my lunch break today-.” At Suguru’s frown, the head nurse speaks over you.

“Not to worry Dr. Geto we have finished the afternoon rounds. Anything she needs to learn can be postponed until tomorrow.” You can’t help but look between the two of them in confusion. The last thing you desire at this point is any form of favoritism, especially in front of your new coworkers who may or may not know your prior connection to the director’s son.

“I-” you are unable to break the silence before Suguru smiles attentively at you, derailing any argument you were starting to craft as to why you shouldn’t go with him.

You see Suguru turn to nurse Ogami giving her a conspiratorial wink, “I owe you one, Mrs. Ogami.” the older woman brushes him off but a faint blush on her cheeks lets you know his words are far more effective than she lets on.

You feel obligated to thank her despite not wanting to go to lunch with Suguru in the first place, “Thank you Head Nurse.” You dip slightly in the appropriate curtsy before looking up at Suguru questioningly. The smile he gives you in response is benign as he gestures for you to follow him. When he walks past Gojo he clasps him on the shoulder before leaning forward to comment something into his ear that you aren’t privy to. The comment provokes a laugh out of Gojo before he heads back to the Security Office.

When you don’t immediately move to follow Suguru, he prods you verbally, “Shall we?” You don’t really have a choice in the matter. At least it feels that way, as you follow two steps behind him trying to keep a professional distance as he leads you to his office. You haven’t actually been in his office yet. Well, his fathers office. He leads you towards the entrance of the building where the directors office is situated. The location makes it easy for him to attend to visitors or in rarer cases government officials.

He takes a moment to unlock the door before gesturing you inside. Once in you take a quick look of the surroundings. Not much has changed in the furnishings since Suguru had unofficially taken over the room. His fathers medical licenses and diplomas have been swapped out for his own and the desk nameplate has been changed. Other than that all the bookshelves and desk items remain the same.

There are two chairs in front of the large oak desk and one behind it. “Please sit.” There is a tinkling noise at the door as you register he’s locking it from the inside with his keys. You can’t help the small shiver that races up your spine. Even if you have known Suguru the majority of your life the action seems strange and internal warning bells are ringing. He jerks the handle to ensure the door will not be opened by anyone other than himself before he opens his suit jacket and tucks the key ring into an inside pocket.

You sit as instructed but you are hardly relaxed. Your body leans towards the edge of your seat, “Why did you lock it?”

He raises a brow at you with a curious smile, “Does that make you nervous?” He moves around the desk to gather a few items, presumably his lunch.

You resolve yourself to sound unbothered as you decide to respond, “No.” The last thing you want to do is offend him.

To your surprise he comes back around to your side of the desk and sits in the chair next to you, “I hate being interrupted. A simple lock prevents that from happening. Besides, this place is full of unstable individuals. One can never be too safe.”

“I see.” You are trying to find a way to voice your concerns to him without being labeled with the tags that women are so often given for having boundaries.

He’s spreading out his lunch an easy going air to him as he leans back in his chain before crossing a leg over another, “Come on, give me a smile you look much prettier that way.”

You try but it doesn’t feel very convincing. You had only been here two days and you had noticed a fairly big change between Suguru’s attitude now and when you had known him before your fathers death.

All your interactions previously had been when Suguru and Dr. Takeda Geto had visited your family's estate in the countryside. The two of you had talked, played, and studied together every summer for years. Your fathers smoking cigars and drinking expensive brandy in the backdrop. Suguru has always been so shy, quiet, and respectful. Now within the property of the Hillsboro Asylum for the Criminally Insane he is still quiet and respectful but there is a confidence behind every movement he makes. He’s in an environment he fully controls and that factor isn’t lost on you.

He pulls out a sandwich and takes a bite; scrutinizes your uneasy expression, “Tell me what’s worrying that pretty little head of yours. You’ve been on edge since you got here.”

“Ah.” You can’t help but feel guilty. Dr. Takeda and Suguru have done so much for you the least you can do is be appreciative. You manage to muster a much more genuine smile, “I’m sorry Dr. Geto I-“

He gives a lazy laugh, his arm moves to rest behind your back on the chair you’re seated in, “You should just call me Suguru, Dr. Geto feels so stuffy.”

His fingers slowly gravitate to a strand of your hair that escaped your starched white nurses cap. He catches it within his fingers tugging it lightly.

You blush heavily at the intimate touch, “I’m worried about perceived favoritism. I don’t want to be treated any differently than the other employees. I want to assimilate with the other nurses.” He’s watching you closely and you can’t decipher his expression, his fingers still gently twirling in your hair. Your face grows heated, “Private lunches in locked offices won’t look proper.” It wasn’t just your reputation you were worried about even though that was a concern. You hoped to make friends out of the other nurses in this new place you would call your home.

Suguru leans back and considering your words a long humming noise escaping his throat. He sits forward, his elbows resting on his knees now as he takes you in. He has a soft smile on his lips but it isn’t quite meeting his eyes. “It’s a little late to worry about favoritism, don't you think? Why else would I have hired you if not for that? I could have hired any old local girl if not for my preference for you.”

You feel a lump growing on your throat. When Dr. Takeda visited just after your fathers recent passing the job he offered seemed like a lifeline. “I-I have knowledge in the field and experience with medication management-“

Suguru laughs out loud, cutting your words off, “Come now y/n. Sure you’ve read some books but you aren’t particularly bright. Women like you are a dime a dozen.” He takes a bite of an apple his tone conversational and casual. “With the job shortages around the country I have women lined up begging for work and you come here acting high and mighty with unwieldy demands.”

Your face flushes and your eyes burn at his comments, “I’m sorry Suguru I hadn’t considered-“

Suguru stands brushing off his pants and avoids making eye contact, “Of course you didn’t. You only consider your own feelings when all you should be worried about is what I think.” He moves to the door and unlocks it, his every movement laced with irritation. “Leave, your ungratefulness is souring my lunch.”

You quickly stand feeling like you're back in grade school and being dressed down for misbehavior. Suguru has always been so balanced and logical; you can’t help but know it must be you at fault for this disagreement, “I’m sorry Suguru, please forgive me. I didn't mean to sound ungrateful. Please don’t be cross with me.” Your tone is higher pitched and more vulnerable than intended. Your eyes glassy with held back tears.

He finally meets your gaze and sighs heavily, “You know I can’t be angry at you for long.” His hand comes up to your face as he softly rubs your cheek with his knuckles. The motion causing a tear to spill down your cheeks. He smiles at that, “There there. Go home for the day and put something nice on. Father and I expect you at dinner tonight, don’t be late.”

Your emotions are all over the place as you head for the exit to the Asylum. You are a fool to think you had been hired on your own merit despite the relationship between your family and Dr. Takedas.

The exit routine for the building takes several minutes. With many weighty doors unlocking and locking. When you reach the front entrance the process is just beginning for another man. The security seeing you approaching waves you forward into the same interlock area as the man to allow you both to do the exit procedures at the same time.

The young man looks up at you, his eyes a golden brown. He’s tall and well built but it is his facial scars that really catch your attention. A thick jagged line races between his eyebrows, the left side of his cheek and lip marred, and under both of his eyes are almost identical check shaped scars. Despite the rugged damage across his countenance when he looks up at you his face goes from a disappointed scowl to concern. “Hey are you okay?”

“Move forward!” A guard calls out ready for you to exit into the next man trap room.

You feel another tear roll down your cheek and you look at the kind face across from you etched with worry. He moves forwards toward you a step and it's only then you notice he is missing a leg, a wooden crutch is braced under one arm.

Embarrassment floods you as you try to wipe away any evidence of your tears. “Yes I’m terribly sorry. How unprofessional of me.”

He tilts his head to the side, the motion reminding you of dogs when confused. “Unprofessional? For having emotions?”

You don’t know how to respond to that. He studies you while the exit procedures are completed and you both find yourself outside in the cold winter air. “My names Yuji, Itadori Yuji.” He’s looking up at the gray cloudy skies with feigned interest, “I’m kinda here a lot. Visiting.” His gaze meets yours again as he gives you a smile that tilts a little on his damaged side. “I don’t think we’ve met yet though.”

Something about his smile is so disarming, “Oh, I’m Y/n L/n, I just started here a few days ago.”

His smile seems to grow brighter, his eyes twinkling with genuine happiness. It has been such a long time since you have seen that in a person. “Well maybe I’ll see you more often then!” He watches you a moment and you return his authentic happiness with a real smile of your own.

“I hope so Mr. Itadori.” He laughs outright at that which catches you off guard.

His grin is infectious, lazy and lopsided, “Mr. Itadori is my Grandpa. Yuji is more than fine.”

You nod the flush on your cheeks now from the cold and pleasant company rather than the shame and embarrassment moments earlier, “Alright, Mr. Yuji.”

He laughs in response, his tone rich. “Not exactly what I meant but that will do. Can I walk you home? I’m heading down to town now.”

The offer sounds nice and you probably would have accepted had it not been in the wrong direction, “I actually live in the nurse’s dorms on the property. Thank you for the offer. I enjoyed our chat and hope we will get to talk again in the future.” You give a quick bob of a curtsey as he gives a jaunty wave in return.

“Nice meeting you Miss L/n!” As he turned to make the slow trek down the lane to the main road you couldn’t help but look back at him. He has the strangest hair color. Despite the rarity of the bright orange pink shade it is strikingly familiar.

#jujutsu kaisen #ao3 fanfic #jujustsu kaisen x reader #quinnyficrelated #ao3 writer #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #ryoumen sukuna #okkotsu yuta #yuta okkotsu #dark romance #dubious consent #eventual smut #quinnythelibrary

[heartfullofleeches]

ok so since it's winter (at least where i live) that means it's soup weather so which one of your ocs would make the best soup and who would make the worst inedible slop known to man (praying this actually goes throught this time bc this is extremely important information and i need to know)

Top Five for both or we'd be here all day-

Best

Liu - I will take any excuse to ramble about my king. Food is one of Liu's go to ways to express their love for their darling as they spent a lot of time in the kitchen with their father as a child and that's how they bonded. Their father also loved making stews and soups, and while their mother got rid of most of his belongings when he died - Liu made sure to hide his cookbooks.

Would be delighted to whip out of them out and create a variety of soups for you using fresh meat from their deli. The cold weather makes Liu sluggish so they'd love to enjoy a bowl with you before short terms of hibernation. Prepares soup in advance and leaves in the fridge/freeze for you to heat up later on.

Cherry - Really, I could put all of my maid bots here, but if I had to pick one - it's Cherry. Has dozens of recipes already installed and just gives you a list to choose from. Always excited to cook for you and likes to keep you updated through the process like letting you try the broth. Cuts the veggies into little hearts like the cutie he is. Hope you don't mind being spoon fed by a robot maid cause they will be extremely sad if you don't let him.

Miller - As a former culinary student and person who loves to cook for the people they love, Miller has got you covered. Whips up a pot for you both to enjoy while you cuddle up from the weather. Prolly starts a chill stream so their chat see the two of you enjoying domestic bliss and rubs it in their faces like the dork they are.

Worst

V - On top of there being a high chance of him putting certain. ...fluids into the soup, V had not touched a stove a day in his life. Cannot cook to save his own life or impress his darling which is why he'll probably just order some from a local restaurant and pass it off as something he made.

C.C - As much as I love my girl, he cannot cook. Too busy looking cute in his frilly aprons to focus on the food itself. On the plus side, like V he'll get it from another source and eventually grow jealous enough of his darling enjoying someone else's cooking that he hires a chef to teach him a few things in the kitchen.

Titus - He's the emperor for a reason. Cooking is what his servants are for. Probably wouldn't even know how to turn a stove on. His soup and cooking as a whole could considered a form of punishment - execution even. Traitors would accept death by firing squad than take a single bite of anything he's made.

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere blurb #yandere oc #yandere scenarios #yandere insert

[cod-dump]

I just looked up Price & found that he was in the WWII COD games as well as the modern-day-setting ones. IDK but my immediate thought was the boys finding out that he's some kind of time traveler OR that he's an immortal--

& then they start calling him "Gramps" or "Pops" instead of "Dad" :D

Old Man ___

It was Gaz who found the box. It was in an old storage shed on base, kept shut by a rusted lock and decorated by boarded up windows. He found the building and went to Price to ask him if he go through it. Price was waist deep in paperwork when Gaz asked him.

“Storage shed?”

“I took some pictures of it, if you would like to see.”

Gaz showed Price and the man went through them before shrugging and handing him back his phone.

“Probably here from when the base was used by the old SAS. Whatever is in there probably isn’t relevant anymore.”

“So… can I go through it?”

“I don’t see why not. But be sure to burn any old files and bring me any technology you find.”

Gaz had to restrain himself from jumping around in excitement, “Yes, sir.”

Gaz always loved going through old things. Old technology, books, antiques— He loved going to antique shops with his mom when he was a kid. Something about old things really fascinated him. Gaz drove out to the old storage shed, armed with bolt cutters, gloves, a flashlight, a portable LED lamp (he doubted any electric ran to it), and a face mask (to fight off the dust).

He clipped the lock and looked at it. It looked old. The handle to the door looked old, too. Gaz set the lock aside before attempting to open the door. He ended up having to bust open the door due to the rusted hinges. He was greeted by a wave of dust.

“Fuck, when was the last time someone was in here?”

Gaz shined his flashlight into the small building before stepping in. He was more than delighted to see that the ceiling held up well and that there wasn’t any animals that made their home inside. Gaz gasped when he saw a box of floppy disks on a shelf directly next to the door.

“Score!”

Gaz grabbed the box and started looking at disks. Other than the blanket of dust they were covered in, the seemed to be in good condition. He tried to read the labels, but a lot seemed to be in code. Though he was able to make out something on a couple of them. A Chinese character: 天. He took a picture of the character before he moved on to some ledgers, going through them each. He was out there for hours until the sun started to set. Gaz only noticed when he got a text from Soap.

Suds: Are you alive?

Gaz jumped when he saw what time it was. It was almost time for dinner and lights out. Gaz quickly put the ledger he was looking in back on the shelf before leaving the building. He had to slam the door shut. He ended up putting a new lock that he brought with him on it to keep anyone out before he left. He was interrogated when he finally made it to the mess hall.

“Where the hell were you? You’ve been gone all day!”

“I’m going through an old storage shed I found in the woods.”

“God, must be ancient if you have taken a liking to it.”

Gaz rolls his eyes, stuffing a spoon of slop in his mouth. While Soap teased him for his ‘obsession’ with old things, Gaz thought back to how much stuff was in the storage shed. He wasn’t surprised Price didn’t know about it. There was a lot of grounds of this base covered by woods. Could be several other buildings like the storage shed, hidden by trees and the paths to them reclaimed by nature.

His next free day Gaz went back to the shed. He was pleased to find that the lock he placed remained and none of the boarded up windows were messed with. Gaz pulls his mask on after he removes the lock and heads back in. Gaz immediately went back to the ledgers, deciding to see what the oldest date he could find. The newest thing in the building that he’s found so far were the floppy disks, and even then they went out of style in the 90s.

Gaz flipped through the ledgers and found that the dates were going further and further back.

“Shit.”

It became increasingly obvious that the storage shed was all relating to a project under the code name ‘Shòu’. The ledgers mostly covered expenses but the floppy disks could have other information on them. Gaz flipped through the pages of the ledger he was holding, stopping when he came across a date.

2/7/1776.

Gaz blinked before he took a picture of the date. That’s as far back as the ledgers were dated but he knows they ledgers themselves were newer than the 80s at least.

“Were they keeping track of transactions since 1776?”

Gaz couldn’t see how transactions from more than two centuries ago were relevant now. Gaz puts the ledger back, accidentally knocking another off onto the floor.

“Fucking hell-“

He gets on the floor to grab it when he notices something over in the corner through the shelves. It was a box with ‘Ash’ written broadly on the side. Gaz stood up and made his way to the corner, kneeling next to the box. He opens it up and finds several files inside. He picks one up, seeing the name ‘Thomas Ashburne’ written on it. He opens it, surprised to see little information that made sense.

“Discovered 2/7/1776? What?”

Gaz read further, brows knotted in confusion.

Subject was found alive after impaled by three arrows to the chest. He was missing an arm, the severed limb laying three feet away from him. After a fortnight under observation, Ashburne was still alive and the severed limb showed no signs of rot and was reattached to young Ashburne.

Gaz closes the file, giving himself a moment to process what he had just read. He sets the file aside and looks at other ones. There were many different names but they all appeared to be the same person. Though he kept thinking it should be impossible for them to be the same person, especially since this person should’ve died over two centuries ago. But these were SAS files. They don’t joke about stuff like this.

Gaz picks up another file and freezes when he sees the name on it.

Captain Jonathan Pryce.

Gaz shakes his head, seeing that the file was dated from 1939 to 1945. He opens the file with shaking hands and immediately drops it when he sees a picture inside. That was fucking Price. Beardless but it was definitely him. Gaz breathed heavily as he sits there. His heart was pounding as he tried to think of how he was looking at Price in a file from eighty-three years ago.

A relative. Just a relative.

Gaz stares at the file again, opening it up to look at the picture before reading the information listed.

Heaven’s Hands Agent Ash.

Gaz blinks before reading more.

Agents Ash and Agent Zima headed the Heaven’s Hands division against German forces in Operation Barbarbossa. Agent Ash deployed after three days of the blitzkrieg attacks started across the border. Agent Ash’s orders were to help defend Moscow and fend off German invaders.

Gaz skims through the report. The Heaven’s Hands Agents were the ones that helped the Soviet Union push back against Axis. Gaz puts the file back after taking out the picture of Jonathan Pryce. He swears he was looking at Price but that couldn’t be possible. Was all of this a joke set up by Price and the others? If it was, they did a lot to set it all up. Gaz picks up a file that appeared newer than the rest. It was labeled ‘Ash’. Inside were various pictures and sketches of… Price. Of him in different time periods, clothes. But it was him.

In the older pictures, which were sketches, Price appeared younger. Maybe late twenties. But in the latest one, which was the 1940s one, he looked like he aged. But only maybe a decade. Gaz actually couldn’t recall if he had ever seen Price without a beard. All of these pictures were of him without one.

“This is one elaborate set up for a fucking joke.”

He could maybe see Price joking around, going along with this joke that Soap came up with and Ghost decided to go along with because he had nothing better to do. But Gaz couldn’t think of how they would’ve managed to set this up without him knowing… or without paying a good bit of money. Gaz stuffs the picture of Jonathan Pryce into the file with the other pictures, deciding to take it with him.

Gaz made it back to base, keeping the folder tucked under his arm as he made he way to Price’s office. Price was a damn good actor but Gaz liked to think he knew the man’s tells by this point. He felt weak in the knees when he made it to Price’s door, having to give himself a moment before he knocked.

“Who is it?”

“Sergeant Garrick, Captain.”

“Come on in.”

Gaz steps inside, Price staring at him computer screen when he did. Gaz shut the door behind him and walked up, swallowing.

“Been busy in that old storage shed?”

“Yes, sir.”

Price hums, still focused on his computer screen, “Find anything interesting?”

“Yes, actually. A couple old files. Several ledgers, too.”

Price looks over, his eyes drifting down to the file that Gaz was now holding up so he could see the label. Gaz likes to think he knew all of Price’s tells to when the man was faking. But that look of shock and how he paled looked pretty damn real to him. Price straightens in his chair, swallowing hard. Gaz could see him biting his tongue, looking around before he met his eyes.

“So… that’s what was in the shed, huh?”

Gaz nods and Price heaves out a heavy breath before he holds his hand out for the file. Gaz hands it over and Price opens it, face stone when he looks at the old pictures inside. Price shakes his head when he looks at the picture from WWII.

“Fuckin’ hell…”

“Are those… of you? Like actually you?”

“Afraid so, Kyle. Sit down. We’re going to be here awhile.”

Gaz sits and Price looks at a picture from the 1880s. Or that’s what the date on the back of it said when it was from.

“I can’t believe- You’re fucking with me, yea? You and Soap and Ghost?”

Price doesn’t say anything, just looks up at Gaz with a dead serious expression that he’s seen in interrogations and on the field. This was very real.

“The-The first file I looked at… the report inside said that a Thomas Ashburne was ‘discovered’ on the battlefield after-“

“Found with a severed arm, ripped from him by musket blades with three arrows to the chest. Later it was reattached after they discovered it wasn’t rotting or that… that I wasn’t in pain anymore or dead.”

Gaz stared at Price he looked at the pictures.

“I don’t remember everything. Hard to. But I remember that day. My ‘birth’ as they called it.”

Price looks up at Gaz and he could see something he never noticed before. Without thinking, he speaks.

“What’s the Heaven’s Hands?”

Price sighs, “My old outfit. They had been operating since the Roman Empire.”

Gaz gaps and Price laughs quietly.

“Disbanded after World War II. A lot of internal issues that had been building up for a long time. Us Hands ran went off to do our own things when the last board member left.”

“There’s others like you?”

“‘Like me’? You mean old? Yes, there is. Some are older than me.”

Gaz hums, staring off, “Other… Hands?”

“Look, I didn’t pick the name. It’s just what they called those who… don’t die by normal means. I’ve lost my arm, been shot through the heart so many times that I’ve lost count, and I have some lead in my head.”

Price smiles softly when he picks up a picture that Gaz hadn’t seen, “We just don’t die. Made us the perfect soldiers. Told us we were ‘blessed by our faith’.”

Price sets the picture down and Gaz reaches over and picks it up. It was Price and a man he’s never seen before. Big beard, wild hair.

“Zima was my shadow.”

“What happened to him?”

“Oh, he shaved and learned to style his hair, learned to fly. Now he wears stupid sunnies all the time to make himself look cooler.”

Gaz slaps the picture down, “NIK?!”

Price snorts as Gaz really looked at the picture. It really was Nik!

“He’s-“

“Old as shit, too. But I’m still older.”

“How is it possible for you to be-?”

“Immortal? I don’t know. None of us know, actually.”

“You don’t know how you’re immortal?”

“No. The Heaven’s Hands looked into it for almost their entire existence. But none could figure out why we were like this.”

“You said the Heaven’s Hands disbanded and that you went off to do your own thing… does anyone else know about… your age?”

Price closes the file and leans back, “Laswell does. She stepped up to be some sort of ‘handler’.”

That explained so much about why Laswell kept such a close eye on them. She was actually watching Price. Does she also watch Nik? Or does he have his own ‘handler’? Has Gaz met other immortals in his life without him knowing? Is anyone one else he personally knows immortal?

"I can only answer the questions if you actually say them out loud."

"Who else is immortal?"

"Nik is the only other one that you know who is immortal. He's the only other Hand I've seen since the disbanding."

Gaz went to say something but Price stopped him.

"Kyle, no one else can know about this. About me or Nik."

"Why not?"

"The Heaven's Hands did a lot during their operating days. Turned the tides of wars, fell leaders and empires while rising others in their place. Few know about them. For everyone's safety, no one can know."

Gaz swallows as Price takes the old picture of him and Nik and puts it back into the file, closing it.

"I need you to bring me everything that you can from that shed."

"Everything?"

"Mostly files about me. Those ledgers you can burn. Anything else you bring to me so I can figure out what to do with them."

Gaz nods and stands, heading to the door. He grabs the knob and Price says something else.

"I'm serious, Sergeant. Not a word to anyone. Not even Ghost or Soap. That's an order."

Gaz looks back at Price, finally seeing the countless years that the man has lived weighing on his soldiers.

"Yes, sir."

Gaz leaves the office, walking with purpose. He wasn't sure what he walked into, but he knew this was only the tip of the iceberg.

#call of duty #cod mwii #modern warfare ii #john price #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #ask #thanks for the ask <3 #fic #fanfic #old man #old guard au

[writerpey]

Omg wait, you have so many fandoms I love, ok, ok could you make like a list of characters from theses shows and what they’d be? Like regressed, caregiver, ect? (So I can send asks based on that) I’m so excited right now

Arcane, Detroit Become Human, Last airbender, Our flag means death, and Six of crows/shadow and bone

happy 2024! this has been in my inbox forever but looks super fun to do! here’s my take on what characters would be regressors/caregivers for arcane, dbh and atla. I totally wrote way more than I expected to but here u are! <3 I’ll do a separate post for ofmd and soc bc they have so many characters I have opinions on.

Agere Character Headcanons

(Arcane, D:BH, ATLA)

(jinx is me cooking up this thread)

Arcane

Vi: As much as she’d be a wonderful caregiver, she’s absolutely a regressor. Being small reminds her of days spent with her parents and Powder, family trips to the fish markets of the coast and sunny days building sand castles at the beach. She tends to be on the older side, a natural tendency from a life spent as the older sibling, taking care of Powder. Vi’s a very active and vivacious little, playing outdoors and hanging off Caitlyn’s shoulders. Loves physical touch, hugs and high fives are the way to go.

Caitlyn: Caregiver all the way! I think she loves kids in general, and despite her awkward nature and sheltered upbringing, she finds it easy to take charge and step into the role of a protector. Definitely looks after Vi and is oftentimes too concerned about her safety. She loves taking the little out to the playground and to eat at Jericho’s food stall (even if she still refuses to eat a bowl of slop herself).

Jinx: Tiniest, cutest, moodiest little troublemaker there is. Jinx regresses to about four or five years old, and absolutely bounces off the walls at all hours of the day. She’s not the quiet, sweet child she once was as Powder, but rather gets herself into trouble and feigns innocence. She loves to annoy both Silco and Sevika, clambering on the latter’s lap and hiding under Silco’s desk for games of hide and seek. Her mood changes rather drastically as well, as she can go from completely happy to hyperventilating sobbing from anything as simple as scraping a knee to refusing bedtime.

Jayce: He’s a very attentive and high strung caregiver. Looking after Viktor is much easier than Caitlyn, Silco, or Sevika’s jobs, but Jayce always fusses over the little. He’s quick to scoop him up whenever it’s deemed necessary, and goes to Mel for help when he needs another pair of hands. Jayce loves caregiving because it gives him something to focus on other than his responsibility to Piltover, and enjoys simple play with his little like story time and building blocks.

Viktor: Super small and quiet regressor! Viktor can get very young, and has no qualms with depending on Jayce for help when he’s little. He likes to be snuggled up on a couch in a mound of blankets and is also content to sit and watch Mel paint the ships that go by the balcony of her apartment. Viktor is sweet and shy and doesn’t tend to verbalize his needs, but because Jayce is so attentive they mesh well together.

Detroit: Become Human

Kara: Caregiver. Need I expand? It’s in her coding in the first place to protect and nurture. Upon her deviance, Kara realizes that even if she was made for it, she can still reclaim that part of herself for herself. She is quick to console whomever her little may be, and projects the kindest and warmest energy to the person she’s taking care of. Kara enjoys making up her own stories, and loves playing make believe with her regressor.

Connor: One hundred percent a regressor. This little guy was shy and uncertain when he first started regressing, as he didn’t know what ‘normal’ behaviour from a deviant was, let alone how to process all the new emotions he was feeling. Connor loves to spend time at Hank’s house with Sumo, revelling in the feeling of the dog’s fluffy fur and laughing happily when he teaches Sumo all sorts of tricks. Connor is usually happy when regressed, but struggles with anxiety and asking for help. Hank is always there to walk Connor through his big feelings and encourages him to use his words.

Markus: He’s one of the most chaotic caregivers there is. You picked the pacifist route in the game? Doesn’t matter. This guy is unhinged when it comes to caregiving. Spoiling his little at any time possible, letting them stay up hours past their bedtime, giving them candy for breakfast and encouraging colouring on the walls. He spent so many years being exactly who Carl wanted him to be while also tasting freedom through Carl’s art that it brings him so much joy to see a regressor’s eyes sparkle when he says yes to whatever their heart desires. He’s also amazing at comforting a regressor. Big hugs and gentle eyes!

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Katara: Is a caregiver! Incredibly kind yet less patient than one (Sokka) might hope. Katara is quick to caution her little, always on the lookout for anything that they might hurt themselves with or on. But this doesn’t mean she hates fun! She adores the beach and using her bending to splash around, and is always ready to get her little an extra blanket or any snacks they ask for. She’s super sweet and falls into the role of a caregiver like she was made for it. Katara has even sewed a plushie or two as gifts, and has a knack for settling a regressor in front of a crackling fire and braiding their hair before bedtime.

Sokka: Regressor for sure. Even though he’s a big brother he never let go of his goofy side, and it plays into so much of his behaviour when he’s regressed. He’s on the older side, around 6-8, and has so much energy he doesn’t know where to put it all. Queue him running around for hours, laughing at absolutely anything that Aang says and bothering Toph just so she’ll play with him. Sokka doesn’t cry, even when he takes a tumble (which is quite often) but is fussy when he doesn’t get his way. He’s a troublemaker, but his beaming smile lets him get away with plenty.

Aang: Honestly I think he’s a caregiver, but is more like a fun uncle than any other label. His sage airbender wisdom doesn’t come through often, which means he’s all about fun all the time. His childish side matches a little like Sokka’s constant energy, and he seems to vanish into a cloud of smoke when any tears come his way. And how did Sokka and Zuko get chocolate all around their mouths, you ask? Well, there’s no one to ask because Aang’s just taken off on his glider on some very important business.

Zuko: LITTLE! REGRESSOR! TINY! Oh my goodness, he’s the first fictional character that I ever headcanoned as a regressor. There’s no need to delve into his trauma here, but the boy is in such a desperate need of healing his childhood that he regressed long before he even knew what it was. Regresses very young, between 2-5. Before meeting the Gaang he’d hang off of Uncle’s shoulder during Pai Sho tournaments on his ship and would shyly ask the crew members to play songs during music nights. His tough demeanour disappears completely when he’s regressed and he turns into a shy boy that is insistent on doing things himself and is quick to cry when he’s unable to, for example, wrap his robes the way he wants. Zuko has a turtleduck plushie that Katara sewed for him after Aang asked him what his favourite animal was and Sokka caught him cuddling up to Appa at night. Sweetest boy in the whole world.

Toph : Caregiver! Matches more with Aang’s style of caregiving than Katara’s, but still lands somewhere in the middle. Her earthbending gives her the ability to pick up on every tiny emotion that a regressor feels, and it means she’s prepared and in tune with every need, happy or unhappy, that someone needs. She tends to playfully tease Zuko and Sokka, but knows exactly where to draw the line with either boy based on the rhythm of their heart. Toph helps Aang when it comes to letting the boys do something Katara has specifically told them they’re not allowed to, and will always feign innocence when confronted by the eldest caregiver.

#sfw agere #sfw agere fic #detroit become human agere #dbh agere #dbh #detroit become human #arcane agere #arcane #atla agere #avatar the last airbender #atla #avatar the last airbender agere

[makeitmingi]

Cause Baby You're My Muse [Chapter 51]

Genre: Romance, Idol!AU, Music, Slight angst

Pairing: Mingi x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Producer!Reader, IdolLyricist!Mingi, IdolProducer!Hongjoong, Idol!Seonghwa, Idol!Yunho, Idol!Wooyoung, Idol!San, Idol!Yeosang, Idol!Jongho, cameo(s) by other celebrities

Summary: You always preferred producing underground, having an unknown face and governed by your own rules. But when you start freelancing for idol groups, you say goodbye to your lone wolf lifestyle as you learn to work with idol producers and lyricists.

Word count: 3.2K

Comeback season was in full swing. The promotional interview and showcase were a success, the public was hyped up for the titles songs and the album. The ATINY and other Kpop fans were making the song trend.

'Just did the first sound check. I'll see you tonight! - Mings'

'I'll be there to cheer all of you on. I'm excited to see what a music show taping is like. - Indigo'

Tonight at M Countdown, Ateez was going for 1st place against another group for the title song. If they win, it would be the first 1st place trophy this comeback season.

This was also your first time seeing the filming and performance venue of a real music show so you were excited to see the process.

"Why am I feeling nervous when I'm not even performing?" You chuckled. But you believed in the boys and the power of ATINY to win 1st place.

'An overnight hit to kick start their comeback. But who is this new producer in KQ?'

'The other hit songs produced by Producer Indigo, the mysterious producer, who played a big part in producing the new comeback song and album for Ateez.'

Another thing with this comeback was that people were now curious about you and who you were. There were some articles. Thankfully, there were no leaks to any information about you. You stayed off social media so that front was safe. There was no gender, no face, no name to use to find you.

Although, some people have been trying to reach you through the server that music artists and companies usually use to engage you.

'Hi Producer Indigo. I'm an ATINY! I'm not sure if you will ever read this or if this is really the only way to contact you. But thank you for your hard work, the ATINYs appreciate you!'

'I think you gel well with the Ateez boys. Can you tell me what it's like working with them? From a curious ATINY'

'How do you capture each of the boys' musical personality and put it together in a song? This song is like a perfect blend of all the boys.'

'Are you a girl? Is your identity being hidden because you're dating an Ateez member?'

You finally understood what people meant when they spoke about the extreme some fans would go to. Some questions were really personal, as if you would reply to them. But most of the ATINY sent messages of compliments to you.

"Oh, I need to get ready." You went to shower and change into some outing clothes. One of the Ateez managers were going to take you to the M Countdown film site.

'Mings, what should I wear? - Baby'

'Hahahaha. You're so cute, baby. It doesn't matter since you will be backstage with us in the room. Wear anything you want. - Mings'

'Anything? Well, I guess this is the perfect time to pull out my ball gown then. I'm asking because I might see some other artists there so I don't want to dress like a slop. - Baby'

'If you wanna wear a ball gown, go ahead! But you're far from a slop, baby, no matter what you wear. - Mings'

With a sigh, you picked out some ripped jeans, a short sleeves turtle neck and an oversized black hooded bomber jacket.

"Sorry for the wait, manager nim." You said as you climbed into the van while fixing the mask over your face. M Countdown meant there would be fans and you did not want to risk anyone seeing you or being suspicious of your identity so you even brought a cap if the hood and mask weren't enough.

"No worries, Indigo. We're glad you could make it. The boys are excited for you to be there at your first music show taping." He chuckled and began to drive.

"I'm nervous. Not sure what to expect." You chuckled.

"Nothing to be nervous about. Just follow our lead on where to go and you'll be fine." He assured.

"Before I forget. Here. You will need to wear this to get in and out of places. Plus, the security won't think you're a fan that snuck in and try to kick you out." He handed you an Ateez crew tag to wear.

"Thank you. Definitely wouldn't want to be kicked out of my first show." You laughed as you slipped it over your head.

"Omg, who is that?" As the van went past, some fans waiting otuside the venue pointed at your van.

"Don't worry, they can't see you. But every time there's a security van, they think a celebrity is inside." The manager told you as he waited for the guard the check the van's number plate before letting the van drive into the carpark.

"Alright, let's go." He parked the van. You checked your reflection in your phone to make sure that your mask and cap was adjust well then pulled your hood up.

"Just follow me." He waited for you. You trailed behind him, tucked your hands into your pockets.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

"Ah! Someone save me!" You were nearly mowed down by Wooyoung who was being chased by Jongho. But luckily, the manager tugged you out of harm's way.

"Kids! Stop yelling and running around! You're being a nuisance!" Hongjoong scolded. That was when he stopped, staring at you weirdly for a few seconds before he recognised you.

"Oh my gosh, Indi. You scared me! You're wrapped up, I can hardly see you." He put a hand over his chest. He wrapped his arms around you to hug you. You let out soft giggles of happiness, you've missed him. With his arm around your shoulders, he led you into the dressing room where the others were.

"It's the masked stranger." He announced.

"Indigo. We're glad you could make it." San grinned and came over. He hooked an arm around you, patting you on the back.

"Hwa~" You waved to Seonghwa through the mirror as he was getting his hair and make up done. He reached to the back to hold your hand, swinging it happily.

"You look really handsome, Hwa." You complimented.

"Thank you. How have you been?" He asked, changing the subject as his ears got red from your compliment.

"Good. I'm going to say hi to the others. I'll be back." You said briefly and patted his shoulder before going to greet the others. Yunho hugged you, teetering from side to side as he laughed.

"He's glaring at me, isn't he?" He whispered playfully. Your eyes shifted and saw Mingi staring at you and Yunho through the mirror. If looks could kill, Yunho would be six feet under. You hummed in reply to Yunho, trying your best not to laugh.

"It's less hectic than I thought it would be back here." You noted as you leaned against Yunho's larger frame.

"Because we already did the sound check so it's just getting ready. That's why Yeosangie is sleeping." Yunho nodded over to the male.

"How is he so pretty even when he sleeps?" You scoffed.

"That's the question on everyone's mind." Yunho chuckled. Soon, you both felt an ominous shadow looming over the both of you. You turned around to see Mingi there.

"It's your turn." He frowned, almost snapping at his best friend. Yunho snickered, patting your head before walking away.

"Hi, Mingi." You looked up at him with a small wave.

"Hey." Mingi breathed out, trying to keep his jealousy at bay. Even if he couldn't see the rest of your face, he could see the playful glint in your eyes. If he could, he would back you against the wall and kiss you in front of everyone now, just to show that you're his, but he had to control himself.

"Wait, why was Wooyoung getting beat up by Jongho again?" You asked, remembering the youngest chasing after Wooyoung when you entered the room earlier.

"Why do you still bother asking at this point? Wooyoung always does something that gets him beat up by the maknae." Hongjoong sighed.

"He provokes Jongho but gets scared when Jongho retaliates." You replied with a scoff.

Mingi subtly nodded over to the couch and you sat next to each other. It didn't seem out of the ordinary with the way the side of his thigh pressed against yours. No one thought anything of it.

"Did you come from your home or the office?" He asked. Of course he knew the answer, he just wanted to talk to you.

"Home. I had a meeting with those drama producers regarding their OST and sent over the final revision earlier today. So now my focus now will be Wooyoung's recorded song cover, get that ready for the first round of submission and review with Eden." You informed.

"Hopefully things can slow down a bit for you. You deserve a break, Indigo. You're always working in your studio, day and night." Mingi smiled. You nodded your head.

"Are you nervous for today?" You asked.

"There's always a bit of nerves but not too bad. If we win, we win, if not, that's fine. As long as we have a stage to perform, we're happy."

"That's a very optimistic way of looking at things. But I agree, there's no need to be nervous. I'm glad the song has been well received by everyone." You laughed.

"It's a great song. What's not to love?" Wooyoung asked, coming back into the room with Jongho behind him.

"Indigo~" He bent down to hug you. You squeezed him as he sat on your other side.

"We'll win today, for sure. For you. We'll make your first time at a music show a memorable one. You're our lucky charm, I just know it." He winked at you.

"Now that's some pressure on me." You joked.

"Just go and have fun, alright? I love watching you guys perform." You softened, feeling tears brim your eyes. There was a lump in your throat but you tried your best to swallow it. Luckily Wooyoung and Mingi were too distracted to notice the big but shaky breath you took to calm yourself down.

"We need Ateez backstage in 10 minutes." One of the stage crew came in. Hongjoong gathered the boys together to brief them. You sat there, watching them quietly.

"Whenever you're ready." The manager told them as Hongjoong wrapped up his words of encouragement.

"Do you want to watch them perform from backstage?" Another manager offered.

"Can I? I assumed I would be watching through the screen that's in here. I wouldn't want to be in the way or distract anyone." You chuckled. He nodded and waved for you to follow.

"It's your song after all." He added. You stood at the side, watching him and the others help the boys with their microphones.

"All the best, Ateez." You wished softly, wary of where you were. Seonghwa waved you over to where they were gathered in a circle. You blinked in confusion but obediently stood between him and Mingi. You looked at Seonghwa whispered something to Hongjoong while Mingi smiled softly at you.

"Today, we're 9 makes 1 team." Hongjoong said. The others nodded in agreement as they put their hands together in the center. You chewed on your lip as you put your hand on top of theirs.

"9 makes 1 team!" They all chanted as they threw their hands down. You didn't say anything but waved at them, you didn't trust your voice to not break.

"Ateez, ready for the stage." The crew announced and the fans cheered loudly as the boys went up.

"Aish." You wiped the stray tears that fell. Luckily the Ateez boys didn't see this.

"Here you go." One of the managers handed you a tissue.

"Ah, thank you. Sorry, I don't know why I'm tearing up." You laughed as you received the tissue with an embarrassed bow and quickly wiped the tears.

You watched the performance intently, giving them all your focus and attention because that was what they deserved after working so hard. You were so proud of them and this song. After the first recording was done, the boys interacted with the fans.

"Thank you for coming out and waiting for us. Do you like the song, ATINY?" San asked.

"Yes!" The fans all chimed.

"I'm glad to hear that. Like I said during the promotional interview and showcase, I think this is the first time all Ateez members were involved in the song writing and producing." Hongjoong said.

"But the hardwork was all worth it for you, ATINY." Yunho charmingly smiled at the fans, making them cheer again.

"Ateez members, ready for oneshot take. Positions." The director spoke into the microphone.

The boys did the another take of the performance and waved to the fans before exiting the stage. It took a lot of will power not to throw yourself at them to hug them.

"You all did so well." You told them as you walked alongside them to return to the dressing room. The boys all looked at you, feeling pride swell in their chest at the thought of making you so happy with their performance of the song. Yes, they worked hard on this song but you worked even harder.

"Sorry, is it okay if we have a short private meeting, please?" Hongjoong suddenly requested the few staff that were loitering in the dressing room.

"Sure." They all moved to the door, seemingly used to this. You were about to leave but Yeosang held your hand to stay.

"Now you can comfortably interact with us." Seonghwa smiled.

"You really did well. I was so proud watching you all perform on stage, I don't think I'll ever get tired of watching you perform." You said, hugging each other them.

"There's another reason we got people to leave the room." Yunho chuckled as you hugged Mingi last.

"Huh?" You were confused. But Mingi surprised you by yanking your mask down and pressing his lips against yours. He gently cupped your cheek as he smiled into the kiss. The other boys turned away to give you both some privacy.

"There. I've been wanting to do that since you walked in." Mingi panted as he pulled away, adjusting your mask over your face. You stared at him with a dazed look.

"Mings!" You finally realised what he just did and slapped his arm in embarrassment. How could he do that with the others here?

"What? Serves you right for hugging everyone else in front of me." Mingi smirked.

"And you! Think you could get away with hugging my girlfriend so close." Mingi glared at his best friend, slapping the back of his neck. Yunho just snickered.

"But you did great." You smiled, hugging Mingi. His arms hooked over your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

"Of course, I had my lucky charm with me right here." He said. You couldn't take too long or the staff might get suspicious so after another quick peck, Hongjoong opened the door for the other staff to come back in. He bowed in apology for making them leave but they waved him off, understanding the need for privacy.

"Everyone have your meal then we're back on stage for the announcement of today's first place." The manager said, wheeling in the food boxes on a trolley.

"Have you eaten?" Jongho asked you as he received the styrofoam box with his name.

"Yes. I ate before I came. Thanks." You told him.

"Here. I'm not feeling it today." Mingi handed you his drink, making sure to stick to straw in. It was watermelon juice, the song he would adorably made up on an Ateez logbook.

"You sure? It's your favourite..." You looked at him. Mingi couldn't help the lopsided smile that formed when he met eyes with you.

"It's fine. I'd rather finish my coffee." He said. You receive the drink, slipping the straw under your mask.

"Why are you all sitting on the floor? There are couches here with tables." You asked them while laughing, noticing how some of them were bent over awkwardly, trying to get food into their mouths. The space next to you and the adjacent couches were empty.

"Trust us, we've tried. They always like to sit on the floor and eat." The managers sighed, shaking their heads. You migrated to sit on the floow with them.

"Hehe, did you like the stage?" Wooyoung asked as you settled beside him.

"Yeah. It's very different compared to watching you guys dance in the pratice room for sure." You nodded your head.

"For one, we're not dressed in sweatpants, drenched in our own sweat in a stuffy room. There's pretty lights and costumes now." Seonghwa pointed out, laughing.

"You're always pretty, Hwa." You rolled your eyes, making Seonghwa blush at your offhanded compliment.

"What about me?!" Wooyoung exclaimed.

"All of you. You always look good, no matter where you are or what you wear. I'm sure the fans can attest to that." You corrected yourself. Hongjoong shook his head with a sigh at how they could all act like immature kids. When your phone rang, you stood up and moved to the bathroom to answer it.

"Finish up, brush your teeth and get ready to go on stage for awards." The managers said. You came out of the bathroom, tucking your phone back into your pocket.

"Everything okay?" Hongjoong asked. You nodded your head. The boys were rushed to brush their teeth after eating.

"Let's go!" The managers filed everyone out of the room. You weren't sure if you should go since the final stage with the other idols would be crowded.

"Come." Yeosang smiled and gestued for you to go with them. The stage crew got all the idols lined up to go on stage.

"Good luck, boys." You said softly to them. They smiled and waved to you before going up.

"Excuse me. Are you Producer Indigo?" One of the idols asked. You nodded your head, subconsciously pulling your hoodie over the cap a little tighter. He reached out to shake your hand.

"I heard from someone that you were here to support Ateez sunbaenims but didn't know if it was true. I'm a big fan of your work." He said enthusiastically. You bowed your head gratefully as his other group mates shook hands with you.

"Please move to the stage." The crew moved them away. But the other people backstage were suddenly aware of your presence.

"Come on, come on." You chanted to yourself. It was so noisy you couldn't really hear the announcers or see what was happening on the stage.

"And the first place goes to... ATEEZ! Congratulations!"

That was all you heard. You didn't care anymore, throwing your hands up in the air in excitement.

"Manager nim! We won!" You hugged the managers that were there, trying not to cry from happiness. They all patted your back, congratulating you as well.

"We would like to thank all the ATINYs who have been supporting us non-stop! Thank you to our CEO Kim, Edenary members, all the staff that work tirelessly! Also, this trophy goes to Producer Indigo and all the hardwork, time and effort put into the studio. Thank you, ATINY! We love you." Hongjoong said.

~

Series Masterlist

#kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop series #ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez series #ateez x reader #idol!ateez #ateez mingi #mingi ateez #mingi #mingi scenarios #mingi series #mingi x you #mingi x y/n #mingi x reader #song mingi #song mingi series #song mingi scenarios #song mingi x reader

[sweet-evie]

IMAGINE Satoru and Suguru as fucking YouTubers, circa 2014-2018.

Ohmygod they would be SO entertaining, I swear. This AU lives in my head rent-free at the moment, so let me word-vomit about it.

It all started with Satoru... Things like this, of course it starts with Satoru.

Satoru gives me storytime YouTuber vibes. His channel started out that way. It's just him talking about how crazy his life is. But after he amassed a following, around 100K, he eventually became a variety sort of YouTuber.

Satoru does a LOT. His channel is INSANE. From food challenges, to trying weird food on camera, to going to haunted locations, to putting weird stuff in the microwave to see what will happen (his house is permanently in danger), to failed cooking videos, right down to trying random products he finds in online stores.

Trust me, it doesn't take him long to get to 10 Million subscribers. Probably 10 months or less. That face card ain't declining and he's always going to pull people left and right.

In the beginning, a lot of Satoru's traffic came from Instagram. It's just him looking so aesthetically pleasing, he's irresistible. His Twitter is a mess. Twitter is where he shitposts, and people know better than to take him seriously on Twitter. His Snapchat... Good lord, help the poor soul who's following him on there. It's random shenanigans that would have you questioning if Gojo is okay.

For the first two years of his YouTube career, Satoru has been doing this YouTuber thing solo.

And then his best friend, Suguru Geto, made his debut on his channel and it's OVER.

His fans fell in love with Suguru. Of course, they would. Tell me you wouldn't love him? (in an AU where Suguru is innocent and has never attempted to commit crimes against humanity).

Also, Suguru is deadass charming when he wants to be.

Satoru and Suguru = iconic comedic duo.

Satoru's views and engagement skyrocketed from the moment Suguru was introduced to his YT audience.

At first, Suguru kept all his social media accounts private, and Satoru was always careful and mindful about what appeared on camera.

Eventually, Satoru influenced Suguru to start his own YT channel.

Suguru Geto strikes me as the type who would have a niche YT channel. Like, he targets a specific audience. The opposite of Gojo's chaotic variety channel.

I kind of find it hard to pin down what sort of content Suguru would upload, but I'm leaning toward day-in-the-life vlogs, fitness, travel vlogs, and commentaries.

If you want serious, educational, aesthetic, and calm content, head over to Suguru's channel.

If you want unhinged shenanigans and pure chaos, Satoru Gojo is your guy.

Satoru promoting Suguru's channel after a failed cooking video be, like:

=OoOoO= =OoOoO= =OoOoO= =OoOoO=

"Well, it's whatever!" Satoru laughed, side-eyeing the messy slop on the countertop that he'd had the audacity to call a donut cake before the entire video devolved into him and Suguru flinging globs of cream cheese and chocolate frosting at each other across the kitchen.

"Who is going to finish all this?" Suguru lamented, eyes narrowing at the pile of food on Satoru's marble counters.

"What are you talking about? We're eating that!"

"Oh fuck no!"

"Yes!"

"No, Satoru."

"Yeeeesss!" Satoru cackled and flung an arm around Suguru's shoulders, bringing his friend into the frame for the special announcement he'd teased at the beginning of this video. "Now come here, it's time to tell them our surprise."

"Our surprise?"

Satoru laughed. "Well, your surprise, but you did this thanks to me~ You're welcome, by the way."

Releasing a deep sigh at the sound of Satoru crooning into his ear, Suguru shook his head. Satoru was more excited about the announcement than Suguru himself would ever be.

"Are you telling them?" Satoru asked, blinking at Suguru over the rims of his dark Versace sunglasses.

"Nah, you do it."

"Everyone, Suguru finally has a YouTube channel!" Satoru announced gleefully, the widest grin splitting his face as he wrestled Suguru into a headlock. A headlock that the latter had no problem prying himself away from. "After a whole year trying to convince his stubborn ass! And the first video is already up right?"

"Two videos, but yeah, they should go check it out if they want." Suguru nodded, flashing an easy smile at the camera, and towards millions of Satoru's lovestruck fans.

"Two! He's fast! Go check it out, guys. Suguru's channel is in the description below. It's the first one there. If you guys need something to help you relax or--"

"--To cleanse your palette after this madness."

"Hey! Rude! They love my cake videos!"

"That's not cake, Satoru."

Neither of them acknowledged the sloppy pile of donuts coated in multi-colored frosting, teetering on the brink of collapse in the background.

"But yeah! Suguru's channel is up right now. First two videos, go check it out! Subscribe, show him some love, give it a like. We had fun hangin' with you, we hope you had fun hangin' with us. And I'll see you guys tomorrow!"

=OoOoO= =OoOoO= =OoOoO= =OoOoO=

UGH! THEY'RE SO CUTE!

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #au #youtuber!geto #youtuber!gojo #fanfiction ideas #jjk headcanons #gojo headcanons #gojo imagines #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #suguru geto #satosugu fanfic #geto suguru #satosugu #satosugu au #wbad shit posts #wbad blog #wbad fanfiction

[moorishflower]

but what if pirate/siren dreamling

(TW for gore and very brief cannibalism mention (is it truly cannibalism if it's your deep sea predator lover taking a friendly nibble of an organ you aren't using))

The problem with having a lover who has multiple arms, Hob muses, is that when one does something foolish, that means there are that many more limbs with which they can hit you. He thinks this as a tentacle pelts him on the top of the head, not hard enough to sting, but definitely enough to bring him to attention.

"Hold still," Dream says, quite casually, in Hob's opinion, considering the fact that he is currently two hands and one tentacle deep in Hob's entrails, and has been rooting around down there for some time, and shows no signs of stopping. Hob has, within the last ten minutes, taken to staring fixedly over Dream's shoulder at the map mounted on the wall of his cabin. Hic sunt monstra, it says, at the very edge of the ocean, and Hob feels a half-drunk laugh bubble up out of him. Christ, if only that mapmaker had known.

"You're lucky my spine's what got hit," he says, "else I'd be screaming and you'd have to knock me out," and Dream hums softly. His voice, even above the water, has a tonal quality that Hob always has trouble defining in any meaningful way. It's like the cry of gulls at twilight, just before they settle into the darkness; it's like the hum of whales moving below the surface of the sea, their huge backs breaking the surf in plumes of silver and grey; it's like the creak of the masts and the beat of the sails when the wind is high and the sky is so clear it feels as though the ship might leave the water entirely.

A siren, Hob had thought, when he'd first found the man washed up upon the strand. One of those beautiful creatures of the deep, what tempted Odysseus and drew men to their dooms upon the rocks.

He's rather certain no siren has ever been depicted with tentacles, though.

Blood slicks Dream's pale arms up to the elbow as he pushes aside loops and coils of Hob's intestines, glistening grey-pink and pulsing faintly in the lamplight. The blood will not stop -- it drenches the bed, despite the oilskin tarp they've laid down, and pours in steady rivulets down onto the planks of the deck. Lucky that the men he's picked to crew his ship all have strong stomachs, for he's sure that some of his blood is going to drip down into the mess, and he is already dreading having to explain himself come morning. It's common knowledge that Captain Robert Gadling cannot die -- he's favored by luck, they say, the Lady herself, he's made a deal with the devil, he's drunk from the pure blood of Christ and now death cannot touch him.

There's a kernel of truth in every rumor, he thinks, as Dream finally reaches where one of the bullets has lodged itself. He knows Dream has found it, because he hears the gentle hum become a clacking of teeth, a chitter of excitement.

"Have you got it, my love?" he asks, and thinks himself wildly magnanimous when he does not try to bite the slender night-blue tentacle that pats vaguely at his cheek.

"You are very complicated inside," Dream says. "More so than fish."

"I'd hope so. How many did that cunt actually fire, anyways?"

"I have found…" There's a distressing squelching noise, and then Dream's hands emerge, gore dripping from his fingers and wrists, but, triumphantly, bearing several blood-drenched bullets. "Three. Including the one. In your spine."

"I didn't even feel you pull it out," Hob says wonderingly. Dream casually drops the bullets to the deck, where they roll, and scatter in several directions, trailing blood according to the whims of the listing ship.

"You would not. Your spine, as you said. Was what got hit."

"Nothing some good rest won't fix. Can you, ah. Pile me back inside, darling?" He looks pointedly down at his belly, still a gaping wound from Dream's careful, knifelike talons.

Dream, ever helpful, but without much of a grasp on human anatomy, slops his intestines loosely back into place, and then sits for a while, the tentacles of his lower half writhing, snuffing along the blood-soaked floor like eager hounds. He tastes it through his skin, Hob thinks -- or something to that effect. He tastes it with his mouth, also, fastidiously cleaning the scarlet from his hands and forearms with a tongue as pink and soft as dawning, and if Hob hadn't spent the past half-hour steadily bleeding out, reviving, and then bleeding out again, he thinks he would find the sight almost unbearably arousing.

You're fucked in the head, he thinks to himself, though not without a certain amount of wry affection. 'Fucked in the head' is one way to describe the man who cheated Death at cards. He blesses every century that passes that she was a good sport about it.

"Am I to your satisfaction?" he asks, beginning to feel woozy, again, the lightheaded feeling of bloodloss so close to drunkenness that it seems an old and faithful friend. Dream pauses with his tongue still partly out, and Hob wishes he were able to move, that he could lean forward and take it into his mouth, and suck the taste of iron from it until all that's left beneath is the iodine tang of the sea.

"Always," Dream says, and lowers his arms, and slinks closer, his upper half as still and calm as a tidal pool, and everything below that a roil of constant movement. He shapes himself legs when he must walk among men, but here, in the relative privacy of Hob's cabin, he rarely bothers. Hob should find that less attractive than he does, perhaps. But he has already established that cheating Death has, in some ways, rendered him insane.

"Then can you please start stitching me up," he says sweetly, with just an edge of gritted teeth. "I'm about to go out again. Good time to practice your. Your." Hob feels his eyes cross. Can feel his heart stuttering.

"Your needlework," he manages to get out, just before his vision blacks, and the last thing he sees is Dream peering closely at him, concern in his eyes, the fractal flare of luminescence sparking across his cheeks in a mimicry of the night sky. Stars, Hob thinks. Death had told him he would sail the stars if he only wanted it for long enough, though she'd expressed her doubts that he would last that long. You'll be asking for me within the century, she'd said. No human is meant to live much longer than that. Your minds aren't wired for it.

Yet here he is. Three hundred years later, and no signs of stopping. Other than the blood loss, of course, but as he feels his heart give a final, thready thump he feels reassured in the knowledge that Dream has, in fact, been practicing his sewing, and has been getting fairly good at it when he helps to repair the sails, and he's probably not going to try and sneak a bite of any of Hob's organs, because he loves him, and you don't eat the ones you love. Probably.

(If he wakes up missing a small chunk of his liver, well. His spine is still broken, and everything below his breastbone is a fuzzing numbness, and it's not like the organ won't grow back, eventually. These are the things he tells Dream, anyways, when he comes to at last, and finds his belly stitched neatly closed, and his otherworldly lover rubbing his gore-sodden mouth against Hob's neck in fitful ecstasy.

"My love," Dream is murmuring, and Hob cannot help but pull him close, and let all the many arms and limbs wind around him, a sweet parody of drowning. "My love, my love, inside you taste of the sea.")

#dreamling #the sandman #fanfic #drabble #dream of the endless/hob gadling #dream/hob #tw gore #tw cannibalism