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getodrools · 2 months

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Just read every one of your Toji fics.. Mr Krabs I have an idea.. Size kink toji and reader that have been sexting and calling nonstop online finally meet up

໒꒰ྀ ྀིᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ thankuu thehe ! ! i am soo ready to indulge in this idea wink wonk 😼 but toji is old soo expect him to act it in the txts el oh el �� i hope u enjoy ! <3 btw i did not proofread this whole thing sob ! !

◜ ⟣ DICK APPOINTMENT! ─── T. FUSHIGURO ‧ ✧ ◞

ᯓ★ warnings. mdni | f! reader | sws, sexting, [n]sfw twt links, size difference/kink, he's HUNG, belly bulge, cervix/womb fucking, overstimulation, he takes vids + pics of reader!, age gap ( reader: early 20s, toji: late 30s ), praising, cunnilingus, fingering, squirting ( x2 ), overstimulation, mindbreak, creampie. ᡣ 𐭩 | wc. 3.6k + |

THE YAWN STRETCHING YOUR mouth wide exhaled pure exhaustion out of you… Tapping at the cluttered papers on your desk with a pretty pink pen, bored out of your mind — until — your phone buzzed in your back pocket.

Fishing for it, your eyes light up brighter than the notification buzzing itself.

[ 🔔 big dick dilf 🫠 3m ago ]

It makes you gleam. Knowing that silly little name you picked out suited him all too well… Always reminding you how he's a rather older man, of course — an older man that was also packing a threat of three dicks in one in those grey sweats he'd always wear…

He was simply a big dick dilf you loved texting!

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<– big dick dilf 🫠 > 🎥

Today 6:58 PM

| 🔗 Attachment: Two Videos –> ONE | TWO

| Watching those videos of you playing with yourself right now :)

| Making my dick so hard pretty girl.

tojiiii |

im at worrrk rn dont do this to mee |

| Haha.

| Can't help it. You make me horny.

♡ hehe |

but gossh it takes sooo long to take him out |

…wish i wasnt working today :( |

| Too long sometimes haha.

| But I hope it goes easy today baby 😁

| Want to have some fun with me to pass time then ;) ? Send me some upskirt pics? Show me how hardworking you are.

yes baby but only if u cum to them :(( |

| I promise.

🔗 Attachment: Five Photos + Two Videos |

enjoyy ;p |

| Hot! You look so fucking wet naughty girl.

| Thank you.

| 🔗 Attachment: One Video

| Got me cumming so hard.

yummy >< that was a lot toji! |

i get u that excited? :D |

| All the damn time.

| But don't get caught fingering yourself in the office for me now haha.

i cant stop so no promises 😽 |

| Fuck. I wish I was fucking that pretty pussy instead of those fingers.

| I'd fill you up so much more.

i wish u could fuck me too ♡ |

but aaah exactly!! ur so big!! |

idk if i could handle all that ;(( |

| Let me come over and grant that wish? Haha.

| I’ll take care of you. So don't you worry your pretty little head off, let me do that ;)

gosh toji who could say no >< |

| Why not? It's been long enough and I can't stop thinking about you and that perfect body.

true ☹️ |

every time u txt my pussy just gets so wett :(( |

idk how much longer i can take without u being in me!? :(( |

| Fuck. Making me hard again.

| Then let's do something about that ;) When do you get off tonight? 10 like usual?

mhm! |

u promise youll rlly come over? |

i dont wanna play with myself all alone tonight :( |

| Shit. You're so fucking bad.

| As much as I like those videos you send when you do… I promise you won't be lonely tonight.

yayy! omgg im so excited!! ♡ |

*SHARED LOCATION* |

| Me too 👍🏼

Read 7:04 pm

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No. You were nervous.

It was thirty minutes past ten, and he seemed to have left soon as you sent your address — Toji had mentioned living only just a few towns over from you, three or so hours away, so you thought it'd be a while ‘till then… but soon as you were done trying to recollect and prepare yourself, you were already hearing a hard knock bust at your front door…

You met him through Facebook.

He seemed like a family guy but distant from said family… The obvious sign he was an older man, no less than thirty by the looks of his awkward profile picture; a low angle as if he wasn't aware of the camera pointing at him, yet it caught the scruffy look aging at his chin and the low set of leafy eyes you adored — he was rather handsome.

That haggard look of a tired hunk of a man itched something in you.

Digging deeper, his social profile seemed old and rarely updated, but the little collection in weapons and fishing, random masculine quotes, and scenic views was fitted when he did… but that ‘not in a relationship’ status highlighted right at your own pretty eyes…

You reached out to him day of, curious and intrigued. A rise of fun risk chatting with an older man online coiled something in you — yearning for the attention and he damn sure delivered.

Approximately within 24 hours.

Toji greeted himself quick, and then conversations began to pick up more frequently, from daily pictures of just random things going on in your lives to full-on phone calls within weeks! Hearing him for the first time rumbled a deep pit in your core to erupt. His voice so smooth and husky, like auditory caramel that was pleasant to the ears, and even that slight rasp on some of his syllables he'd drawl out was scratching further into your brain to feen for more.

You didn't need to take anything further from your own hands. He seemed rather lonely yet mysterious, but made it very clear what he wanted.

Toji initiated the flirtatious comments once he figured out how to open your photo gallery on your profile, or once he figured out the FaceTime option to get a full live view of your pretty self some more… You remember it was on the second or so phone call when he started to chuckle out praises of how beautiful you are. Even admiring your intellect or your creativity when you'd show him your hobbies and such...

You were filing something in for him — vice versa too…

You also remember when you first sent a picture of your tits out of craven; fleshy mountains peaked hard at the tips, forcing them to jiggle once you found the courage to make videos for him after the overwhelming praise the first time.

He made you feel… special.

More or so, when you first saw his cock. That's when the button to malfunction clicked.

That day, you swore your jaw was sore the whole evening from how hard it dropped. You could not believe how hung he was — jackpot!

From what you could see through such a simple device, Toji’s dick dangled between his thick thighs like a damn church bell clanging with mighty vigor. When the meaty log slapped from side to side against naked flesh, it had weight—it was heavy and made an audible fleshy clap. In some of his videos, he'd lift his shirt up too — showing more of himself off as if that alone wasn't enough. He knew was sculpted like fine marble chiseled to perfection, he just had to make sure you saw what he worked so hard on…

When the older man first jerked himself off, moaning right into the speaker; lewd groans of your name spewing out, you couldn’t help but admire the way his fingers barely touched when he fucked up into his fist… Usually a collage of your naked self was on his laptop while he recorded himself getting off. It was cute. But fuck, the tan skin gliding over his bulbous tip always swepped that oozing, sappy pre he invariably seemed to drench himself with — practically lubing that nth-inch bitch breaker to full extent...

It was always so pretty even when it was sleeping. When he was really in a mood, he'd call you and let you watch it grow — let you talk filthy to make him twitch into the full hard pole it wakes up in…

His soft was as big as your ex’s hard.

Sighing heavily.

You had plenty of calls and videos shared with him, mostly getting off on each other with zoom-ins on your pretty bits… So, this couldn't be any different… Clearly, it wasn't enough anymore to only tease each other, you ached for the real thing — the real mammoth cock you watched like an addict to get lodged right up your bare pussy...

Damn, why were your hands so clammy.

Reminding yourself, your situation with him was always an annoyingly so close, yet so far annoyance. And this was the time to change that.

Marching up to the door with your head high, a throbbing pang shot right between your legs reminding you exactly what you craved for.

Another knock banged at your door before you could reach the golden knob.

Scratch that.

Feeble like sand falling, “Oh fuck…” Your stomach twists. She was thinking for you! Dammnint he was a monster, think clear! Not even the tip could nudge through.

Relax.

This was your first time ever meeting up with someone on the internet — let alone meeting with them to fuck. Or even just creating a full-blown sexual relationship in the digital world… A sexual relationship with a man twice your age too— twice your damn mass not to mention for the tenth time!

The third knock felt like a punch straight to your gut when the hinges rattled.

His presence was strong. You knew he was standing on the other side of that thin wall barring between you both ever so patiently. This is all that was between you now, not miles of distance or digital love, just a closed door.

You could hear heavy boots click off.

Shit!

Your phone goes off too.

Head spinning like a barrel at each noise that seemed rather louder than they actually were... you catch the notification banner with his name written all over it.

[ 🔔 big dick dilf 🫠 1m ago ]

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<– big dick dilf 🫠 > 🎥

Today 10:53 PM

| Hey baby

| I think I'm here. It's 201 right?

| The ice cream is melting 😱 Haha.

Read 10:53 pm

| Hey?

Read 10:54 pm

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Toji was holding a container of mixed ice cream, that is in fact melting… but spotting flowers with a small black bag hanging in his other hand, you puckered out your lips in awe, glossing them over with your tongue.

Though as stiff as your neck went as you looked him up and down, you savored that saliva drying up in your mouth. Feeling it run barren only catching half his robust body that seemed to wander off with his own head glued into his phone, seeming to check again for the address.

Attempting to swallow that dry pit clogged in your throat to muster up a pitiful, “Toji… Hi.” Idiot.

When he turned, his body's depth grew tenfold.

He was massive. Now catching sight of a clear view of his full sature, he could be described as one would with a walking goliath… A great abundance of stacked muscles kissed even through his grey sweater; pecs strong and full – round even with long limbs standing tall in a might of mass to settle around bones, and it only takes a few steps for him to reach you.

You audibly gulp.

Throat bobbing as his face drew closer, and as he did, Toji held a simple, small smile. Noticing that notable scar he'd usually lick over and shine the silvery mark lined down those thin, yet full lips. Lips that made your own quiver – aching to drag him in for a full mouth and tongue kiss to fix that, not caring if teeth collide—

“Wow. You look good—amazing…” Toji’s voice resonated a thick rumble as those naturally, pale green eyes hooded, adventuring all around you a few times before, “Really good... Ah, this melted — I hope you like flowers though.” And he presents you the small vase bundled up in a various color of blooming buds.

Clammy hands reach for them, “Hah, they're lovely. Thank you…”

Toji sucks in hot air through his teeth, still hanging right outside your door… “You all right?” He notices the small pearly beads trailing across your hairline.

“Yeah! Yeah, I'm just–– you look good… I knew you were big but, damn.” Saying that forced a clear connotation to spark up. If he's this big in real life — bigger than what you have already seen online, what you've prepared yourself for mentally, but now connecting the dots, all of those angles and views were shot from his eyes. Now in your personal POV, this was a clear difference… and you couldn't help but think about that monster stuffed between his legs that was appointed and waiting for you to be a lot more than you could fathom...

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

At least, Toji knew you needed prep first. He could just tell…

So to speak, his tongue was steady lapping around in a winding circle against your slit. Already sappy against his mouth, but the wads of spit he bubbles against puffy lips, swoons you blissfully to a faucet…

He didn't mean to shove his tongue so deep, but the natural nectar your pussy gushes with was utterly mouthwatering, he couldn't stop slurping it up! And he didn't mean to cut you off when you finally invited him in, but his cock was also steering the engines – remembering one second your mouth was full with coherent words, telling him how your day was, small talk and giggles about the ice cream, but now, you could only babble out god knows what… Even — faintly, remembering how he pinched and squeezed at your sides when you finally invited him in your room to get things where they needed to be; letting him take a plop down only to get dragged with him closely, quickly enveloping you with his needs and mass…

Time moved quick, even motions and kisses. Hands too. He was not shy… Could say he had a damn set of paws on him.

Hands shaking, Toji laps “Make sure you get a good angle...” And you try hard to record your pussy being eaten raw.

Something Toji asked about, if he could get some real good photos of you both before he goes back to his place… It was fun at first, but shaky hands recording a video is not a good mix. But, you tried…

Toji delved to get to his destination and he made it clear what this was all for. He let you relax and talk for a bit, enjoying your voice now against his skin, now feeling you for the first time — skin to skin, so smooth and gentle, teasing almost for the entirety… but as soon as you hinted you were ready, he spayled out right between knobbly legs he coveted in with a sort of haste…

Whiffing up your aroma, he groans, “Fuck baby…” His mouth opened wide with an inviting seal – a suction, he rolls out his tongue like a dog in heat; shaking his head gently and sliding that slippery tongue back and forth, Toji keeps hooded eyes on yours. Watching how you looked up into the clouds as heat pressed between your legs.

“Taste so good. I knew you would,” Toji pops your puffy clit in his mouth, sucking with a hard pull ‘till it bobbled out — swollen now.

“Gotta open you up, pretty pussy is so tight.” Mark his words, a digit teases your entrance, handling your quiver; he toys at your little hole, circling and flicking ‘till he could nudge in tight walls.

Hooking soon as gummy walls expand— suck him in, “Greedy girl.” Toji prods against the puffy mounds of your cunt.

Hot mouth raking against the length that he spreads with working hands, he bumps and curls another finger in. Nuzzling deep, his nose suffocates against your pelvis when he plows in, hands doing just the same.

Feeling the older man press around to play at spongy walls, you couldn't help but knot a free hand through his shaggy hair as the other tightened around his phone… The nimble stretch kicked your feet up. Shivering, sheer incredulity warred across your features; your jaw was agape – totally agape. Nothing but strangled noises left your lustrous lips.

Suckling at pert folds and scissoring spongy walls, Toji worked with eager rolls with the tip of his tongue. Flicking across the pretty underside with deft movements that sent the flesh trembling. Trailing along the curving plumpness, his mouth maps your folds and bits that force your legs to tweeze around his shoulders.

He traces patterns into the lush flesh – no random movements, all meticulously and hard… Riding up your slit, never missing the rhythm that forced a kindled roll in your hips, along the ridges—the drawing, you felt a bold, T. O. J. I. trace out teasingly.

The distinguishing mark of the tittle from the “I” pressed right into your puffy hood. And he curled his tongue just right, the little nub puckered out into a spasm.

A sweet spasm too.

Engorged, your face grew tight. Twisting and turning, your tummy coiled ‘till it sprang up, feeling Toji slosh around in your cunt; bullying your walls to clench with a force until they fluttered open all while keeping a working mouth prodded against your thrumming needs.

“Toji!!” Your back lifts up off from the sheets. A perfect arch, he slides a hand beneath, holding you still while you mush shakey hips into his face, drawing out that high spiking through you and out like a geyser.

Fumbling over thoughts, Toji drowns between the sweet heat of your legs. Letting you glisten down the stubble on his chin. Groaning at the treat you spatter against his tongue, almost making his mouth a damn pool itself, he refreshes himself.

His throat bobs as he swallows you up.

A few languorous seconds, he pulls away sloppily. Saliva and messy juices still pearling in streams was sent pattering down his chin. With much of it staining his face – he didn't mind, he relished it, the nectar taste and how it sort of cooled him off was utterly pleasing…

He grabs the phone, smirking how it fumbled down with you.

Your mouth hangs loose. Limp and tingling all throughout.

Only for the tingles to spark into shots of raw lightning, barred hands travel of your sides, “So perfect baby… You think you're ready now? I think you are..?” Still trying to catch robbed breaths, weak eyes manage to flutter open and seize at the sight of the clamoring coming from below your bodies.

Pupils dilating and now snapped wide, you flinch at the presence of something so immense. Instinctively, the tips of your fingers press into the hard ‘v’ tracing down his pelvis in trepidation.

When the hell did he take that out?!

Like a church bell clanging, it swung low. His cock was heavy, the weight couldn't keep his hard pole up no matter how much blood flowed. When the rough-tough cock throbbed, it was the only time stiff dick meat lifted an inch…

“Heh, don’t get shy on me now.” Toji grabs your hand and swipes it away with a feathery kiss, “I told you not to worry that pretty little head off. That's my job.” And he was doing a damn good job!

“You're already so wet, so it'll slide in easy, m’kay?.. But I got this though. Just in case.” That black bag he brought in now answered your questions. The plastic crumbled as he reached for it – hucking it, a bottle of lube rolled in his palm and popped open.

Shaking it up, he dumps out half the bottle into his already soggy palm. Before shining his prize for you, he plops himself right on your rising tummy. Dammnit! He was teasing you out of your mind! Purely showing off how deep he was about to go…

Adorably nervous, the arousal from Toji tonguing you into oblivion excited those fuming hormones on how good he can work your pussy, but now? With a mammoth cock ready for you next, riled up your very engines…

Knobbily legs spread wide.

Biting at your lower lip, “Reach my guts, Toji.” Your hand dips between naked bodies and grabs a handful of thick cock meat. The oozing lube globbing at his base, you stroked it all the way up to his capped tip. Slathering the thin flesh with a twist.

Oh.

His silvery scar stretches, “Mmhm… Someone's worked up the courage.” He chuckles, carefully watching how you cutely try to wrap him whole into your palm.

Barely working out, but you tried.

… You were… ready — jittering with eager excitement, pussy still dribbling in muck, and a heart ready to throb out your chest again. You wanted— needed him in you, reminding yourself all the times you had to finger your pussy to just mere pictures, to a cock you drooled over digitally all alone with only tinkering thoughts. This was the time to finally fixate on fantasies, though Toji’s size still loomed at the back of your mind as he guided himself between sopping folds, prodding against your little entrance when you deemed his cock to be doused enough…

You suck in a deep breath.

Ready.

Yet, the audacity to whisper, “See, you're a big girl.” While half his body shrouded yours as he prepped himself above you; full mass shadowing over your frame with alluring sature, you toiled.

Blowing out a lust-laden breath. Toji soothes at your thighs, holding them in a firm grasp, and angled himself to mush the rubbery pink tip between the tightness of your quim. Any trepidation you had felt was clearly lost in the pressure of his crown plugging in, disappearing slow and methodically; penetrating you with a groan-inducing rush, a sensation of being gently, and nicely filled with the weight of something greater than you immediately expected.

“Oh fuck...” Almost in unison, his body curls forward while yours expands.

Toji felt hard and swollen inside. Having a well-ready, well-prepared cock that was itching for sexual relief, both of you wanted it. So, letting spongy walls stretch in rough accommodation for it; swelling around the girth of the thick slab of cock as he pushed down, sinking an inch, then two, then three, then… inside in a steady rhythm.

“Atta girl…” Aching. He didn't move fast. No hesitation, no waiting, but no real rush, either. But just a firm push that you could catch the first sight of his cock driving down into the tight, slick seal before knocking back, “Look at that.” As Toji pressed further in, a bump—a thick outline bubbled up at your tummy.

Your eyes almost cross. Trying hard to focus on the log settling in the pit of your softest parts — with fail, your head bobbles into sheets, and throat scars with an endless mewl.

Toji took this chance to sink the rest of his cock in. And as he shimmied his hips forward, he got closer, chest hovering over yours almost stroking gently. You take this chance to wrap your arms around his neck as a safe haven. Clawing red trails to sweep the sauntering man who prowled in inches for a kiss – a hot, fast smack of the mouths, far more forceful than earlier; simply locked into a lustful maw as his cock wormed fully in.

Without preamble. Both of you let the moments to adjust to the feeling of his cock inside of you pass before sodden hurls could play out… It was a euphoric phenomenon that made the walls of your pussy flutter, a grinding touch and a friction-filled push that made nerve endings crackle like an active wire.

Walls flexing and expanding to the hilt, Toji felt much, much bigger inside of you than he did outside. Optics or not, the firm drop of the hips, your stomach muscles curled and promoted what was throbbing, deeply in you.

“So fucking tight.” So tight, Toji had to buck his hips with a little force. The pressure of your walls kept sliding him right out, but staying firm, he glides back in.

Sparking up a rhythm, catching how mewls turned into needy wants, and knitted brows softening up for more. He draws out his hips, slowly letting his dick flop out, but never unplugging you completely; quick with driving his pink head down to keep you filled. Utterly filled, to the hilt.

“Toji–fuck–yes, please… please, fuck me.”

That's all he needed to hear.

Truly ready now.

Toji’s lusty lips pop off from yours as he powered himself forward. The first few thrusts gutted you, practically molding a new shape in your insides. Drilling into you with slick, manipulation, he expands wet barriers with working hips. Mushing the mounds ‘till they snapped around him and sucked him right up.

“Yeah, this what I needed.” His words worked up of mostly groans as he rocked back and forth—even dragging the bed with him… “This is what I was dreaming for...”

Barreling now, each swing roughened up. And each time he shoved himself into your weeping pussy, the bulge followed along your pelvis.

Locking your ankles around his waist, Toji leans up, needing to bend his knees to reach balls deep. Lifting your butt from the sheets, he holds your lower half in the air. All that muscle working, half your body was in his vice — Well, your damn head was in the clouds too… Torso splayed flat, the view of your lifted bottom half was exotic; all you could see was his cock head jackhammering ‘till he couldn't get any further than your perk cervix.

He held you tightly, the pads of his fingers dug deep into the soft flesh of your thighs. Knowing bruises were sure to blossom in the morning… Not only surface level, but each bump trudging through you hit at your sensitive womb.

Hard, fast, and brisk, each motion blending into the next rhythm—a forward swing and a backward pull like a damn pendulum. And he was focused on dragging all inches as he did, filling you out in endless repetitions, sending his cockhead through those clenching depths and right up against your perk cervix.

You didn't think you could breathe now, but as his hands glided to the extent of your legs, spreading them by your ankles. Toji was growling as he brought you further up with him; Holding your hips up, all human instincts replaced by feral needs. Positioning himself tall until he was fucking you like a construction worker drilling out cement, forcing your flimsy, fucked out body to be arranged at a downward angle, chin tucked with knobbly legs kept wide.

The camera was catching it all too! A genius, he thought, placing it right below your jiggling ass to catch all pounding movement… Even catching the flyaways of your sap milking out and slobbing down his length—Hard thigh too! The harder he barreled into you, a thicker shine dribbled between your bodies and blurred up the lens of the phone…

Heavy balls splat down against your ass at each hard plow. Balls deep, deeper than you could imagine—hard to, and your mind ogles and short circuits trying to comprehend this.

Gurgling, your tummy coils again… And this time Toji could feel your walls spasming all the more.

Deep, rolling strokes. Strong hips come in fleshy swings and he forcibly fucks out your high, “Yeah! Fuck baby, cum f’me. Cum all over this dick.” Dream dick to be fair.

That's all you could do, and as your pussy squeezed and clenched, leaking with a glisten, Toji drags your ankles towards your head. Pushing his twisting toes into the sheets, practically flattening his heavy orbs into doughy globes, and jamming all nth inches into you, your sappy cum gushes out all around him.

Electricity coursed along your limbs, waking them up again to wail like a damn fish out the sea and crowd around his chest. Squeezing and pulling taut receptively, and even as you cursed the sensations of bliss through a sloppy tongue, Toji followed.

“You feel so–fucck—!” Through an endless wave of pleasure, he pants.

Sending his cock thundering through your soaked channel. His pace was more pronounced ‘till weak. Mounting you; the tightening of his face, the swelling of his shaft, the throbbing of the balls pressed right against your perk ass, he was ready to explode.

Filling out your elastic folds with almost desperate movements, clearly right on the peak of popping. Toji topples into your mouth and shoves in a few more and final wet claps until he lets out a guttural moan.

“Tojii!—” In sync, you both watch each other, gazing so deeply with mouths agape as his cock hiccups and burps out a fresh load of white cum.

… Did you just fall in love?

Toji wiggles into you, “Take it all.” Carefully observing how you nod, breathless and dazed, he keeps you filled with baby batter—Filling you like a damn pastry!

Your body falls in the wreck as he plants his sweating skin across yours. Heaving heavily, the older, bigger man keeps you close. Keeping you beneath him as his cock pumps, moving like an inching worm through patted soil; and spurting out wads of thick ropes. Gooey warmness seeps in deep, filling up your pussy like a personal pool at each throb he pulsates with.

Though as he seemed to have dumped his whole load, balls now empty and less tightened from the flex of swimming cells. He huddles you close, keeping his dick lodged in you...

"I-wow.." Toji breathes, more of a shakey moan, "That was... you were..." He chuckles.

Swiping the sticking hair out of his face, he observes how you try to also recollect yourself too—a lot more of heavy breathing and gasps come from you... But assured, you pant out a bewildered giggle, "Yeah..."

"Yeah..." He repeats after you, agreeing.

… You feel a buzz on your ass..?

“Damn,” Toji easily lifts you to grab that damn phone he propped up thinking he was some cameraman in the making, “Damn again. Your pussy was leaking so much some got on the camera…” He inspects it, “It'd be hot to see when that happened… but hopefully, not for the majority of this perfect moment...”

You tease, “If then, we could just record another…” And Toji licks at his scar, feeling his cock hardening ‘till it stiffened up rock hard like a mighty pole…

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

[ 🔔 big dick dilf 🫠 1m ago ]

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<– big dick dilf 🫠 > 🎥

Today 4:33 AM

| Can't stop watching our videos 😉

| 🔗 Attachment: Two Videos –> ONE | TWO

| You're so fucking hot.

| Can't stop thinking of that pretty face moaning.

| When are you free again?

Read 8:09 am

Typing… |

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<– BACK: PINNED ⊹ ࣪ ˖ NEXT: MORE TOJI –>

#🌐 𝐿𝒜𝒱𝐼𝐼 𝒲𝑅𝐼𝒯𝐸𝒮!#ᝰ toji fushiguro!#toji smut #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #tw belly bulge #tw mindbreak #tw cervix fucking #tw overstimulation #tw age gap #tw size difference

2K notes · View notes

estrellami-1 · 1 year

Text

Falling

(ao3 link)

Dedicated to @madigoround, my one constant Steddie cheerleader. I hope you like it! ❤️

It’s said if you truly want to get to know someone, tell them no. Watch how they act when they’re angry, when they’re sick, when they’re wrecked by grief.

The truth is, Eddie thinks, the way to truly get to know someone is to watch them when they think they’re not being watched.

So, Eddie watches people. He watches Tommy Hagan ascend the ranks of social hierarchy, climbing closer and closer to the top of the totem pole until he reaches the zenith and finds himself stuck with fake friends and a fake life. He’s mean, in the way that Eddie knows someone is mean to him and he doesn’t know how to handle it.

Eddie leaves him alone, ignores him best he can, and hopes Tommy will have the dignity to do the same.

He watches Carol Perkins, faux-model that she is, use her body like a weapon, like a credit card. He knows that she knows that way only heartbreak lies. No one moves to stop her. Eddie knows she’s hurtling towards self-destruction. He knows she’s ignored at home.

He watches Steve Harrington. His ascent to popularity, then in the blink of an eye, his fall. How easily he shrugs off the mantle of King Steve, starts carting around middle schoolers.

How he flinches at loud sounds, abrupt movements, flickering lights.

Steve Harrington intrigues Eddie, is the thing. And Eddie’s never been the type to deny his intrigues. So he studies the fallen king more.

Some things make sense, after spring break. Some things don’t.

Steve has three smiles: the real one, the one everybody thinks is real, and the fake customer service one. He hardly ever uses the first. He’ll use the second a lot. The kids are dipshits, brash in the way only a teenager can be, unaware and uncaring of the effect their words have. Specifically, the effect their words have on Steve.

When they make jokes about his intelligence, Steve will force on a little half-smile, an unaffected air, even as his shoulders slump inward and his chin tips down.

Eddie sees it. He also sees what Steve looks like, eyes wide and wild, grinning and gesturing freely, as he discusses basketball with Lucas or football with Uncle Wayne. Eddie understands the stats he somehow manages to keep track of (even Eddie has notebooks for all his character sheets and all the math everything requires. He’s forgotten, more than once, how he’d done something for a past campaign, and digs through his notebooks until he finds it. But Steve pulls the numbers out of thin air, hardly even pausing as he finds them in his mental filing cabinet, and Eddie is impressed, to say the least). He knows Steve’s smart, even if it’s in a different way than the kids are used to.

He makes a point to mention it. Steve’s over watching the game with Wayne, and Eddie whistles as he listens in to their conversation from the kitchen where he’s making lunch. “That’s some memory,” he says, shaking his head. “I know I couldn’t keep all that straight.”

Steve blinks at him. “What, like all your D&D people?”

“Characters. You don’t want to see the amount of notebooks I have, trying to keep everything straight, and it still ends up all going to hell when I can’t find something.” He raises a challenging brow, daring Steve to argue.

Steve just laughs and leans back into the couch. “Whatever, man, I still think it’s impressive. I’ve been watching for years, it just kinda makes sense that I’d remember a few facts.”

“A few?” Eddie’s eyes light up. “Wayne, quiz him.”

Wayne snorts. “What’m I, your errand boy?”

“Yes,” Eddie says, just to be contrary. He grins at the snicker it pulls from Steve. “Please, Wayne?”

Wayne narrows his eyes at Eddie, then softens his gaze when he moves it over to Steve. “You up for it?”

Steve chuckles. “Sure, I guess. It’d be nice to see how much I actually know.”

For the next few minutes, Wayne gives a name and within a few seconds, Steve’s answered with stats about that person.

Eddie, ever the competitive soul, ends up invested, grinning and high-fiving Steve when Wayne runs out of names. “Knew it,” he said, happily noting the blush making its home on Steve’s cheeks.

“Ha,” Eddie jokes later, ribbing Dustin because he can. “Kiddo, that was worse than-” he thinks for a few seconds, then sighs and raises his voice. “Steve? Who was the guy who did the thing you and Wayne were mad about?”

Dustin judges him with his eyebrows. “Even if Steve had any idea what you’re saying, what makes you think he’d know-”

“Phil Simms,” Steve called back from the kitchen. “Great player, actually, just wrong team.”

Eddie hummed, enjoying the shocked look on Dustin’s face. “Nah, not quite doing it. Who’s the losingest team?”

Losingest team, Dustin mouths, mocking. Eddie notes that he doesn’t actually say anything this time, though.

“Depends. Jets started at ten to one, then lost their final five games. But the Giants beat the Redskins 17 to zero. They also beat the 49ers 49—heh—to three, but that was earlier in the season, and no one expected San Francisco to win anyways.” He walks out of the kitchen, wiping his hands with a towel, a thoughtful look on his face. “Does any of that help?”

“Absolutely,” Eddie says, even though he has zero idea what Steve actually said. He’s staring, smug grin firmly affixed to his face, at Dustin.

Lucas, over on the couch, sits up straight and stares at Steve. “Did you see Montana’s comeback?”

Steve grins. “Fuckin’ wild, man, but I kinda hate Walsh for letting him. Like, I’ve been there, right? And that was…” he shakes his head. “Not good. Yeah, it’s been weeks, whatever, but an injury like that?” Steve crosses his arms, shakes his head.

Eddie stares, enraptured. Obsessed. Maybe, possibly, falling.

When the kids make jokes about Steve’s appearance, he’ll put a hand to the back of his neck and rub, force down the blush, avoid eye contact.

Eddie knows Steve’s not shy. So he doesn’t understand why Steve reacts like that until one day he compliments Steve. It’s a simple little line, you have gold in your hair, but Steve beams. Eddie’s left wondering about the difference, realizes there’s a certain type of compliment Steve’s received all his life, that probably ended up less than welcome at some point.

So Eddie makes it his life’s mission to make Steve beam the way he had the first time.

One time they’re out lounging by the pool while the kids splash around, beers in hand, talking about everything and nothing. Steve tips his head back to take a drink and Eddie realizes something. He leans forward to get a better look. “Your eyes are hazel,” he says delightedly, grinning at the flush rapidly showing on Steve’s cheeks.

Steve looks like he’d very much like to take a page out of Eddie’s book and hide behind his hair in that moment. He hides behind his beer instead, takes another sip as he waits for his face to get back under control. “Are they?” He asks, like he doesn’t know. He’s such a little shit. Eddie’s obsessed.

Another time, Eddie breaks in (is it breaking in if everyone and their mother knows where Steve puts the spare key?) and starts making breakfast while Steve’s out on a run. He almost swallows his tongue when Steve walks back in, sweaty and flushed, wearing shorts that God Himself must have sculpted just for Steve.

Instead of saying that, Eddie adopts an unaffected face and raises a brow. “Pretty sure there’s a fine for public indecency, sweetheart, and those shorts break about eight of those rules. ‘Course, no one’s gonna say anything when they’re on you.”

Steve laughs, light and happy as he accepts the water Eddie hands him. “And why’s that?”

“Because I think you single-handedly caused every gay crisis on the police force.”

Steve laughs hard enough he snorts, and Eddie’s immediately hellbent on hearing that sound again. “That so?” He asks, then pauses. “Wait, what the fuck are you doing in my kitchen?”

Eddie shrugs, like it should be obvious. “Making breakfast. I wanted pancakes.”

“And you couldn’t make them at your place?”

Eddie just shrugs, a smile playing on his lips. Steve badly hides his grin as he shakes his head and turns around, citing a need for a shower as he heads upstairs. “Don’t burn the house down!”

“Betrayal!” Eddie yells back, grinning when Steve cackles again.

Eddie stares as Steve walks upstairs, enraptured. Obsessed. Maybe, probably, falling.

Eddie studies Steve. Studies him and watches him more and more. His mannerisms, his interactions with others. And he realizes something very interesting: Steve’s always the one to reach out.

He tugs Dustin into a teasing headlock, rubs his knuckles over the top of his head. Flings his arm over Lucas’s shoulders, pokes at Mike until he responds, bumps Will’s elbow with his own. Brushes his fingers over Max’s arm, pulls El into a hug. Robin is the only person who consistently pulls Steve into a hug, and even so, most of the time it’s teasing; a quick, sharp thing, jerky movements and practically pushing him away when she’s done.

So Eddie starts. Brushes his hand across Steve’s shoulders as he’s walking by. Poking at Steve’s cheeks to get a reaction. Quick, tight hugs, at first.

Or… that was the plan. The first time he pulls Steve into a hug, they’re alone, because Eddie does not want to have to deal with Dustin and his dramatics in that moment. So Eddie pulls Steve in, arms flung around him and squeezing in a half-joking manner, and Steve practically melts.

“Jesus fuck,” Eddie mutters, stumbling a little. “You good, Stevie?”

Steve pulls back, a blush making its way across his cheeks. “Yeah. Sorry. It- it won’t happen again.”

Eddie frowns. “How the fuck is that what you got from it?”

Steve shrugs. “I know I can be… well, Nancy called it clingy, and I’ve had a few girlfriends in the past who called it clingy, and if it looks like a rose and smells like a rose, then…”

“Shit, Steve, no, that’s not- what the fuck were your girlfriends on? Why would they call that clingy? That’s not- Christ, Steve, if that’s clingy, sign me up. Seriously. Just warn me next time, we don’t all have the body of a Greek god, we can’t all carry our somewhat-acquaintances out of hell.” He grins at Steve, a half-thing that grows when Steve tentatively grins back.

“Body of a Greek god?”

“Oh, don’t go fishing for compliments, I know you, you’re not that shallow.” He rolls his eyes, smiles. Tentatively places his hands on Steve’s arms, just above his wrists. “You hear of something called touch-starved?”

Steve cautiously looks him in the eye. “I can guess,” he finally says, and Eddie pulls him into another hug.

This one lasts for something close to a minute, and Eddie ignores it when Steve takes a step back and molds his face back into shape. “Anytime,” he says quietly, like a promise. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Steve agrees.

It happens again a week later.

Everyone’s over for Hellfire. Steve was in the kitchen, had been there practically since everyone had trickled in.

There’s a quiet clatter, an even quieter shit, then a pause before Steve heaves a sigh. “Eddie?”

Eddie furrows his brows in concern, motions for everyone to stay where they are, then makes his way into the kitchen, seeing Steve gripping the edge of the sink. “Steve?”

“I’ve been having a shit day,” he starts. “If… if you meant what you said. Last time?”

“Anytime,” Eddie swears. “Hey, Stevie, c’mon, the sink’s not going anywhere, let’s let go, yeah? Wanna stay down here or go upstairs?”

Steve makes an irritated noise in the back of his throat. “Your game-”

“Will be there later,” Eddie finishes. “Here or upstairs?” Steve shakes his head, a sharp movement, and Eddie recognizes it. “Want me to pick?”

“Please.”

“Upstairs. Can you do it yourself?”

Steve makes another guttural noise, pulls away from the sink, and marches upstairs.

Eddie follows. All the way upstairs, into Steve’s room, pausing to close and lock the door. “We’re safe,” he says quietly, and opens his arms. “Stevie?”

Steve trembles as he allows himself to be hugged, hands fisting in the back of Eddie’s shirt, head guided to the junction of Eddie’s neck and shoulder.

Eddie pets a solid hand down Steve’s back, squeezing at his waist for a moment before bringing it up again, just below his neck. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “We’re all okay, we’re all safe. What’re you seeing, Stevie?”

Steve takes a breath. It only stutters a little. “Had a dream ‘bout you last night,” he admits. “Kinda fucked me over.”

Eddie’s heart clenches. “I’m here,” he promises, and guides them onto the bed. “D’you want to be on top or bottom?”

He feels Steve’s brows scrunch against his shoulder. “What?”

“Some people need the pressure of someone on them. It’s grounding. For some, it’s too much.”

“Oh,” Steve mutters. “You on top.”

Eddie bites his tongue on the joke that wants to come out. “M’kay, c’mon, then, still not the one with the body of a Greek god.”

He feels Steve’s tentative smile as they roll over, a breath huffed into his chest. “Always liked Apollo.”

“God of the sun,” Eddie agrees. “Suits you.” He gets his arms out from under Steve, puts them on his shoulders. “This work?”

Steve hums. His eyes are shut. “Didn’t wanna take you from your game. Sorry.”

“And I told you it’ll be there later. If you need something, I want to help you get it. Simple as that.”

Steve sighs, tips his head to the side. His chin brushes the back of Eddie’s hand, and he does it again. “This works.”

“Steve,” Eddie says, watching Steve brush his chin over the back of his hand. “If there’s something you want, I need you to ask for it. I can’t read your mind.” Steve’s brows furrow as his eyes open, and Eddie clicks his tongue. “Close your eyes.” They drop shut again, and he nudges the back of his hand a little harder against Steve’s chin. “What do you want?”

Steve sighs again, gathering courage. “Want you to play with my hair.”

Eddie’s heart skips a beat. He brushes his hand up, traces the line of Steve’s silhouette, up his chin, his nose, around his eye. Drags the backs of his fingers across his forehead, surreptitiously checking for a fever. Nothing. Steve relaxes back into the pillows.

Eddie gets a hand in Steve’s hair and tugs gently, releasing to scrape his fingertips over Steve’s scalp. Revels in the hum Steve lets out. “Sunshine boy,” he murmurs. “Who takes care of you?”

“Sunshine boy?”

Eddie smiles softly, even though Steve’s eyes are still closed. “Gold hair, gold eyes. My own personal Apollo.”

Steve smiles. “You’re Dionysus.”

“Mm. God of drunken joy and madness.”

“And theater.”

“Oh, yes, how could I ever forget one of the billion things one of the billion gods was known for.”

Steve snorts. “Thank you,” he murmurs, hands brushing Eddie’s waist. “I shouldn’t need this. Any of it.”

Eddie cards his hand through Steve’s hair again. “But you do.”

“But I do,” Steve agrees with a sigh. “And you just… you’re selfless.”

“Only when it comes to you.”

Steve snorts. “You’re full of shit.”

“Yup. Selfless and full of shit. Sounds about right.”

“Oh my god,” Steve laughs, cracking open an eye to look at him. They both still, caught in each other’s gaze, realizing just how close they are to each other.

Slowly, so slowly, Steve looks away. “Go back to your game,” he whispers. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Okay,” Eddie responds at the same volume, and slowly gets up. He lifts his hand off the doorknob when Steve calls his name. “Yeah?”

“Stay? After?”

“Sunshine boy,” he says again, just to get that smile. “Yeah, Stevie. I’ll stay after.”

After comes sooner than either of them expect, but Dustin got sloppy, and what’s the point of one-shots if not to throw them to the wind when it all goes to shit, so there’s a lot of good-natured ribbing and thoughtless decisions and uncaring dice rolls before it ends and everyone’s packing up.

Dustin’s mom comes to pick up everyone who didn’t drive there, because she’s an angel of a woman, and Eddie makes excuses for why he’s staying until finally he doesn’t have to, it’s just him and Steve, and Steve’s looking at him with the softest smile and something that looks like adoration shining in his eyes.

Eddie opens his mouth to start, then shuts it with a shake of his head. “C’mon,” he says finally. “Let’s go sit on the couch.”

Eddie sits first, and Steve stands, hands wringing one another, until Eddie leans forward, grabs them, and gently guides him to sit next to Eddie. “There.” He holds one of Steve’s hands in his. “Do you want to start, or should I?”

Steve worries his lip. “Do we need to talk about it? If we both know what we’re saying?”

Eddie grins. “So if I were to start talking about buying little party hats for raccoons…”

Steve snorts. “Okay, you ass, point taken.” His smile falls. “You’ve been… really nice to me, these past few months. And that’s not why, not at all, but it doesn’t exactly hurt either. I just…” he shakes his head. “Why me?”

“Why you what? Why am I nice to you? Why have I been taking care of you? Why-” the question sticks in his throat for half a second. “Why do I like you?”

Steve smiles, bashful, and looks down at their intertwined hands. “All of the above, basically.”

Eddie taps the back of Steve’s hand thoughtfully. They both watch the movement. “Because you’re worth it,” he says simply. “Because no one else does it. No one else sees what you do for them. No one else cares. I do. I don’t think I was given a choice, honestly, you looked at me and I was fuckin’ gone. And I’m gonna keep doing this until you believe me. Until you believe that you deserve to take up space, to exist, to have wants and opinions and preferences.”

“It might take a while.”

“I’ll be right here.”

“I might never fully believe it.”

“I’ll be here forever.” He pulls their intertwined hands up to press a kiss to the back of Steve’s.

“It sounds like a lot of boring work.” His voice is high, thready. There are tears in his eyes that fall when he blinks.

“Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

Watery eyes narrow at him. “Did you just quote a fucking Greek tragedy at me?”

“Uh. Maybe?”

Steve snorts, shakes his head, and leans in to lay his head on Eddie’s shoulder. “You’re such a dork.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s old news, sweetheart.” He presses a kiss to the top of Steve’s head, feels his heart skip a beat when Steve responds by nuzzling his throat. “Is that it, then? We’re done talking?”

Steve sighs and tilts his head up so they can look at each other. “I like you too,” he says quietly. “Just… for the record. And I want this. And…” he bites his lip, then just as quickly releases it. “I wanna kiss you. Um. If that’s alright.”

“Sunshine boy,” Eddie murmurs. “Of course that’s alright. Get up here.” He pulls as Steve pushes up, meaning Steve overbalances and sprawls across Eddie’s lap. They stare, wide-eyed, at each other for a beat before bursting into laughter.

“Okay?” Eddie checks, even as Steve rights himself and scrambles the rest of the way onto Eddie’s lap, grinning as he plays with the hair at the nape of Eddie’s neck.

“Perfect.” His grin grows and a tiny little giggle slips out, like he’s so happy his body just can’t contain it all anymore. “I’m gonna kiss you.”

It’s less a warning, more an explanation for why he’s so happy, and it has Eddie’s heart full to bursting in his chest as he slips his hands just under the hem of Steve’s shirt to rest them directly on his waist. “You are,” he agrees. He almost jokes—not if I kiss you first—but knows Steve needs this. “Take your time,” he says instead, even though he feels like his heart is about to beat out of his chest, like he’s about to vibrate out of his own skin. His hands are steady, though, as are his eyes when he looks into Steve’s.

“Is it weird that I’m nervous?” He’s whispering now, so Eddie drops his voice to match.

“It’s a big thing. You’re allowed to be nervous. Is there any way I could help?”

Steve scrunches his nose up, then moves to rest their foreheads together. “Um. Close your eyes? Maybe?”

Eddie’s eyes immediately shut. “Take your time,” he promises. “Or we can wait. There’s no shame. I won’t be upset.”

“Yeah, but I will,” Steve jokes, and Eddie chuckles.

“There’s a movie,” he starts. “An old silent film that Wayne likes. I watched it with him because he said something about vamp, so of course my mind went to vampire. It wasn’t, to my dismay, but there’s a line. A seductress bewitches men by getting them to kiss her. One man’s about to kill her, like gun-to-the-head about to kill her, and she says kiss me, my fool.”

He can practically feel Steve’s grin. He can definitely hear it. “Which one am I?”

“Oh, definitely the seductress, have you seen yourself, sunshine? I’m the fool in this scenario. Or any scenario, really.”

Steve hums. “Dionysus.”

“Shut up.” He’s laughing, though, grinning at Steve’s giggle, then freezes when Steve’s lips land on the corner of his. “Oh,” he whispers when Steve pulls away.

Steve laughs softly, puts a thumb at the corner of one of Eddie’s eyes. “You can open your eyes.” He’s whispering again, and Eddie looks to see Steve staring at him, a small, wondering smile on his lips.

“Heya, sunshine,” he whispers, almost choking on the amount of emotions he feels.

“Hi.” He pauses, fidgets. “Can I kiss you for real?”

“Yeah. You want me to close my eyes?”

Steve shakes his head. “Just… kiss back.”

Eddie grins, wide and in love. “I was planning on it.”

Steve grins back, just as wide and just as happy. “Shut up.”

“And if I said make me…”

Steve giggles. “I might just have to,” he says before finally leaning in, slotting their lips together in a slow, sweet kiss.

He tastes like the pizza they’d been eating and the beer they’d been drinking, and underneath that is something so Steve, and Eddie wants to spend the rest of forever discovering that taste. When they pull apart, his eyes open—when had he closed them?—and land on Steve, who’s also in the process of opening his eyes. “Wow,” he murmurs, and Steve giggles as he rests their foreheads together again.

“Just about.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” Steve whispers, so Eddie wastes no time in sealing their lips together again. It’s still soft and slow and sweet, and Eddie focuses on making Steve relax against him. He cards a hand through Steve’s hair, squeezes a little at the nape of his neck, runs it down his back, down his side, to knead at his hips. In response, Steve hums into the kiss, shifting a little to let more of his weight rest on Eddie’s lap. Eddie does it again and again, thrilled at the feeling of Steve finally relaxing fully onto him. They both pull away, lips wine-dark and tender, and Steve smiles, eyes still closed, as Eddie runs his hand through his hair one more time. “Keep that up and I’m gonna fall asleep,” he murmurs, and Eddie’s heart skips a beat at the trust in his voice.

“Maybe that’s my plan,” he answers. “I seduced you just to get you to take better care of yourself.”

Steve’s smile widens. “That’s the only reason?”

“Obviously,” Eddie teases. “Well, that and the fact that I’m ridiculously into you, but that seems like a separate thing.”

“Right,” Steve agrees, giggling. He opens his eyes and presses a quick peck to Eddie’s nose. “I’m kinda ridiculously into you, too.”

“Well,” Eddie says, because out of everything, of course this would be what takes his words away. “Good.”

“Good,” Steve agrees, laying his head on Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie leans back into the couch, adjusting his hold on Steve so he’s as comfortable as possible. “G’night,” he murmurs, brushing a kiss over Steve’s temple.

He can feel Steve’s lips lift into a smile. “Night, Eds.” He presses a kiss to Eddie’s neck, and Eddie smiles as he tilts his head back into the couch.

He stares up at the ceiling, enraptured. Obsessed. Maybe, definitely, falling.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #touch starved steve harrington #I don’t think I’ll ever write him another way honestly #stranger things #steddie fic #st fic #Eddie has the patience of a saint #(mostly he’s just in love)#Steve is struggling #honestly idk how else to tag this #starambles

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tojipie · 7 months

Note

I love your prison bf toji series so much!! Also, in the newest installment of the series Toji says that Shiu has had a crush on the reader for a while? I’d love to see how this crush developed, how Toji found out and how Shiu dealt with his feelings!!

ughhhhgghgg i love this prompt so much :(( bless your heart you’re a genius <3

prison bf toji series linked here <3

context ! -> fic takes place very early on in reader and toji’s relationship. this is pre-prison and at a point where he hasn’t introduced him to his men yet :D hopefully this makes sense !

content: fem reader, brief piv smut, mentions of incarceration, objectification of reader by stranger, fluff, they make up dw ! jealousy, angst, unrequited love

purple hickeys bloom across your chest as toji makes his way from shoulder to shoulder, pinching bouts of delicate skin between his teeth while length ruts into you.

the drag of his cock is delicious, hitting that special spot at just the right angle from the way he has you laid out on the couch, both legs thrown over his shoulder with your head propped up on a cushion.

toji was always like this after securing a deal at work, soft, sensual, taking his time with your body as an act of celebration. half-empty glasses of champagne still lie on the coffee table where you’d left them, leaving rings of cool sweat on the glass surface.

“gonna cum,” he groans, pulling away from your neck with a pop and blowing cool air against the saliva-soaked hickey. you squirm at the stimulation, throwing your head back as your high creeps up on you t— was that a key in the door?

toji pulls out of you with unmatched speed, reaching for a couch cushion to shield his manhood. he rucks a throw blanket over your body with a string of curses, using his massive build to hide the silhouette of your body from view.

“what’d i tell you about waltzing into my fucking house?” your boyfriend yells, staring down the suit-clad stranger with a look that screams blood-lust.

the smile that breaks out on the man’s face is nothing short of filthy, eyeing you up and down like a piece of meat

“awww didya get us a hooker boss-man?” he sneers, cigarette hanging from his lips. “could’ve waited till i showed up to start but i’m down for whatever.” he laughs, gingerly placing a pristine briefcase on the coffee table before taking your discarded bottle of champagne as a parting gift.

“don’t have too much fun, alright?” he teases, stepping out the door as quickly as he’d come in.

the two of you are speechless for several minutes, looking back and forth between each other, the door he didn’t even bother to close, and the mystery briefcase you’re not sure you want to see opened.

toji sits up with a string of curses, stalking over to kick the door shut with a sigh.

“that’s.. shiu,” he mumbles, clearly embarrassed.

you sit up from your spot on the couch, letting the blanket guarding your modesty slip down to your waist. toji settles down on the opposite side of the couch, arms outstretched to let you climb onto his naked form.

“handles money,” he clarifies, tracing abstract shapes onto your spine. “my cut from today is in the case.”

“do you trust him?”

he nods, resting his head in the crook of your neck with a sigh.

you figure that’s all you need to know.

˚ ✧ ──────────────────────

the apology shiu gives you the next time you meet goes on for ten minutes. variations of “fuck i didn’t know” and “i’m so so sorry i really am” spill from his lips while he bows at your feet, forehead firmly pressed to the wood floor of your dining room.

toji sits at the head of the table, shoveling bites of dinner into his mouth in between heart laughs.

“mmf— tell her again i don’t think she heard ya.”

the truth is you’d kind of forgotten about your boyfriend's right hand after the incident was over. was the hooker comment uncalled for? sure, but judging by the saturated fear in the suit-clad man’s eyes you figure toji had done something to set him straight.

plus you’d both gone two more rounds after the initial embarrassment had died down, making up for the little roadblock on your path to an orgasm.

“it’s okay, promise,” you say quietly, not entirely sure what to say at this point. the suit-clad man stands again, bowing to both of you with a sigh.

“now give her our little present,” toji says, stalking over with his arms crossed.

a sealed bottle of champagne— the same kind he’d so graciously swiped from your home— is placed in the palm of your hands before you’re able to question either of them.

you shoot the other man a greatful smile, and shiu realizes he quite likes the feeling of your soft hand shaking his.

˚ ✧ ──────────────────────

toji’s annual new year party was a sight to behold. alcohol, dancers, and booming music was the typical atmosphere, though the event had taken a complete turn once you’d entered the picture.

gone were the days of loose dollar bills and stray panties littering the floor, the smell of sex and smoke in the air.

in were the days of… a modest bar and fancy catering, much to his men’s dismay.

toji didn’t quite know how to throw a party that could be deemed “professional” but he figured not having strippers at the house might’ve been a step in the right direction. some of the guys even brought their wives this time, fun right?

and so, toji sits toward the back of the room, watching you socialize with a drink in hand, his best friend beside him.

tension hangs in the air as both men watch you from afar. one with pride, the other with longing.

“do you want her?”

“… what?”

toji doesn’t elaborate on the cryptic question, peering at his friend over the rim of his glass.

shiu pauses, downing the rest of his drink as he thinks of what to say. a warm hand settles on the meat of his shoulder, letting him know it’s ok.

“yeah man, i do,” he admits, too ashamed to look up from the floor.

greed. the word that’d graced toji’s knuckles since the day he turned 19. black ink needled into a canvas of tan skin, bleeding into the rest of the tattoos like water flowing upstream.

it fit him perfectly. it did then, and it does now. toji always gets what he wants, regardless of how other people feel. a man overcome by what he believes he deserves.

the hug he’s pulled into isn't filled with malice. the threat of violence isn’t there, unlike the time toji had taken him by the collar and threatened to gut him like a fish over the comments shiu had made the first time he met you.

this hug is.. soft. inviting. an embrace that tells him “it’s okay, i trust you.” the fact that toji hasn’t bashed his nose into his skull is a telltale sign that there’s no fault in feeling the way he does, so long as he doesn’t act on it.

shiu truly doesn’t know what to say other than yes, he does want you. he wants you to be the one he comes home to each night, he wants your soft skin on his, wants to spoil you and make you smile.

you were kind, attentive, shy at times. the complete opposite of toji and his brutish demeanor. a flower cradled in the hand of a dragon.

but you weren’t his, and you never would be. not when toji had been the one to sweep you off your feet, securing a place for himself in your heart that shiu could never fill.

and that was ok. he was here for his job, not you. shiu was fine with you being oblivious to his feelings, in fact, it was better that way for the three of you.

that’s exactly why he breaks away from the hug as you pad over to their table, shooting you both an apologetic smile before heading over to the bar. as long as he’d still be able to catch a glimpse of you every now and then, he’d live.

edit: forgot abt the taglist oopsies 🏷️

@honeybee54321 @m150-50up @kuryoomi @t4naiis @serendippindots @sillyalo @levixbby @powerrwa @tojishugetiddies @wheredidmycrowngo @unknownspecies @ushygushybaby @ebiharachan @hoshigray @crazychaoticizzy @denypipa @watyousayin @tempest1art @sakuraryomen01 @kariito-art @vkeyy @mxtokko @inumakiiz @rosieee491 @loveme-b4by @suguxo @namjoonsbuspass @tojis-luver @complexivelovely @dancingwithdeities @sunflwrsugar @catvader101 @ktsgrl @princessos-blog @4ut0p5y @swiftsongs-mp3 @mycocoapuffs @adrenepinephrine @na0koz @suguscape @jaswonder3 @bokutosprettylittlebimbo @getousrep @jeannieboys @darkstarlight82 @freebananabeard @vivian-555 @kentokaze @subarusuguru @aroxwq @i-literally-cant-with-this @emikokomura @moonriseoverkyoto

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s3thwrit3sstuff · 1 month

Note

you know what's delicious? yn who started wearing flavored lip balm/lip tint because of suguru — so that every time suguru ate a curse, he could just easily pull the man into a kiss to get rid of the disgusting taste suguru hates so much ((bonus points if yn also pops in a candy/sweet/chocolate in his mouth before feeding it to suguru through a kiss — anything to help suguru forget the taste of curses)) yeah... just... suguruyn for the win man 😋🫶

((even more bonus points when satoru finds out later and he gets all jelly because 1. he doesn't know the lip balm/lip tint can come with a flavor so he felt blindsided and of course, he humphs and puffs because of it and 2. he wanted a chocolatey sweetness kissies too!!!! and of course lastly, 3. he felt left out because he never knows that suguruyn always makes out every single time suguru ate a curse so he's all pouty about it — ask him to join in next time!!!))

❝ He's just like candy, he's so sweet ❞

polycule (Satoru x r! x Suguru)) | alternate universes (Suguru is not a cult-reader), fluff, NSFW | vers. bottom. reader (AMAB) | NOT PROOFREAD | wc: 3.6k

warnings: foodplay, threesomes, pouty satoru & smug suguru, semi-public sex, d/s dynamics

masterlist; part 1; part 2; part 3; alternate ending; playlist; au's and what if's

author's note: in this au, they slayed the links that made me lose my mind (thank you @xuxitheii for making me squeal and kick my feet): geto suguru : gojo satoru : gojo satoru being a big baby

Curses. Ugly as sin and tastes just as foul. Suguru remembers the first time he discovered he could devour them; how awful it felt as it went down his throat, bulging out and staying there — blocking his airway as he struggled to find it in himself to swallow.

The way his teeth ached. His throat convulsed and his instincts forced it back up but his fingers blocked it from doing so. It warbled in the back of his mouth, begging to be let out and 7-year-old Suguru just knew he couldn’t bear for it to disturb him again. He couldn’t handle it speaking nonsensically into his ear, slinking under his bed or even staring right at him as it grinned so wide Suguru swore he could see his reflection in its yellow, wicked-sharp, teeth.

The pills his parents (his poor, non-sorcerer, parents) had given him to help with his “hallucinations” made him feel as though a thick fog was obscuring his brain. His thoughts faded and his movement groggy, his emotions caged while his body still felt the anxious tremors that ran through him when he saw them.

The curses made him feel like he was constantly in a deep pit of despair. Everything wrong in the world, the depravity and impulses of humanity that manifested into these grotesque creatures in the palm of his hands made his nose sting, till this day, as an 18-year-old; it made his eyes well with tears.

Suguru can't describe it in a way people could understand. But if asked, he’d used the viscera of a vomit rag being forced down your throat.

But the strong protect the weak. While your lips protect them from his ire. This one goes down with a loud gulp, his fingers blocking his lips as he tosses his head back. The worst is almost over, the aftertaste will linger but not for long. Because then, he feels your weight on his chest and Suguru is pliant as you gently pry his fingers away.

“You did a good job, baby.” Suguru flutters his eyes open and he can’t help the way his lips twitch eagerly. Your lips are glossier than usual, he can smell the cherry flavour on them. His hands wrap themselves around your waist. It’s a firm grip.

Mine, he says without speaking, mine — all mine.

He pulls and a huff of air escapes you in a series of chuckles. “I know we haven’t been out in a while, but did you miss me that much, Su-Su?” Suguru frowns at your jest. It’s rare for him to pout. That role is often delegated to your boyfriend, Satoru. So this must truly upset him.

Because, yes, he did.

You’d been called overseas to complete a mission. It was the norm for sorcerers considering the population of sorcerers in Japan; outsourcing they called it. Your curse technique was needed for this mission and truly, it didn’t take long but Suguru had done solo missions and he missed you.

Three solo missions. Three disgusting, dog-shit, vomit-stained rags, down his throat. Three days without you by his side.

He hated it.

“Don’t ask a silly question like that ever again,” he mumbles. Silly. The way he scolds you always makes you smile. Never crass or rude — his voice reminds you of the symphony of leaves singing with the wind as they danced and speckled light onto the forest floors and cool water bubbling over rocks.

“Why? Why can’t I ask silly questions?” You tease, placing your elbows on his shoulder and hanging your hands behind him. Purposefully lax despite the coquettish smile on your face.

“You already know the answer.” He speaks with such sincerity. Every word is heavy with nothing but candour and adoration. It makes your eyes soften and Suguru squeezes you closer.

“I do?” He nods at your words, the tip of his nose brushing over yours and his tan skin so flushed on the apples of his cheeks.

“Kiss me like you miss me, baby.”

Suguru’s lips land on yours like a feather. Supple as always he begins it with a long-lasting peck. Pouty lip against pouty lip. His hands climb up your back and he presses between your shoulder blades to somehow hold you closer; his jaw opens and yours does the same. There it is — that heaven that’s your mouth. Suguru groans and you feel his tongue sneaking in, devouring you like a starved man.

The cherry flavour on your lips, the sweetness of the candy you let melt on your tongue, the way your fingers grip his hair, the way he can feel your breath on his cheek as you try to breathe. He wishes that the two of you never needed air. Suguru wants nothing more than to kiss you forever and ever and ever —

“Hey!”

You part with a gasp, cheeks warm and lips almost bruised as the line of spit between the two of you breaks. At the mouth of the alleyway was your boyfriend; Gojo Satoru.

His arms are crossed and he taps his foot in a cartoonish fashion. Despite that, both of you know that the frown on his face is very much real. “What gives? I exorcised the other curses and I came back to the two of you making out. So unfair!”

Suguru parts with a sigh, rolling his eyes to the side and pouting his lips to the side as he muttered about Satoru having FOMO. It makes you giggle and he smiles when you lean forward to place your face right under his jaw.

“S’toru, you’re being a baby. Suguru did a lot of work and I was just thanking him.” Satoru unfolds his arms and flaps them around in protest.

“I did work too!”

And it has begun — Satoru’s famous little tantrums. Oh, he could go for a full hour if he was really worked up but there is a saving grace in him having them. He closes his eyes when he’s yappering. Suguru is listening to his huffy boyfriend but then you kiss his chin and he tilts his face down to look at you.

“Hm?” your teeth brush over his lower lips, then plant firmly on his. “Baby?” he smiles in the lip-locking and you whine about it because his lips should not stretch into that handsome smile, they should be pursed outward and part to let you in.

He tastes chocolate on your tongue. The creaminess of the chocolate makes him groan along with the citrusy notes. That combined with the fruitiness of the cherry tint on your lips makes the taste of the curses he’d ingested (exorcised) all but disappear. Your hands climb to the lobe of his ears and his breath hitches when your fingers trail the curve of it, he protests a bit as you undo his bun; then you whisper his name and Suguru tightens his grip on your waist.

“Hey!”

Satoru is whining again but this time he’s closer. Close enough for Suguru to grab a fistful of Satoru’s white button-up and pull him in. As his face turns you giggle, wiping away some smeared gloss as you watch Satoru turn red from Suguru’s heated kiss.

Satoru groans with his eyebrows twitching. Listless in his attempt to remain angry at Suguru. He pounds his fist against Suguru’s shoulder and attempts to crane his neck away. When he turns, he gasps as you steal his breath.

Satoru’s graceful legs tumble over themselves as his boyfriends press him to the rough wall of the alleyway. There’s a constant hum of an A/C machine and the noises from the pipes keep the intimate noises between the three of you contained. Suguru’s blunt nails drag onto the faded plastered-on advertisements — yours grip onto the bars of the window that had been covered up by old newspapers.

Satoru’s grip onto the front of both of your shirts. His glasses go askew as he struggles to keep up with his boyfriends. Suguru misses Satoru so much. He’d been away too, the Higher Ups sending him overseas at the same time as you and Shoko had to deal with a depressed Suguru for those 3 days.

“Mah, Satoru,” you drag your lips to Satoru’s sensitive neck. His hands don’t seem to know what to do with themselves. It grips and pushes and stutters. “I always give Suguru special kisses after a job well done, you’ve just always been too busy to notice.”

“S’not fair,” Satoru retorts with no real venom in his words. “I deserve special kisses too, don’t I?” Suguru chuckles, forcing Satoru to look his way and shut him up. Satoru glares over the rim of his crooked glasses as Suguru’s thumb presses down on his canines.

“What a jealous brat.”

“Can’t even handle a little teasing.”

Satoru would heavily disagree with that. A little teasing? You called being pushed to a wall, groped, kissed, and bitten by your handsome and powerful boyfriends a little teasing?

Satoru was a sign of change, his birth instantly tipped the scales of the sorcerer world, but he was still human!

Suguru grins that irritatingly pleased grin when Satoru’s protests die out thanks to your hands slipping down his pants. “Oh shit,” he hisses. His speech is odd with Suguru’s thumb in his mouth, casually inspecting it. But you laugh anyway.

“You know, since he has been away too, maybe he does deserve a bit of sugar from you, (Y/N).” You glance at Suguru, your cock chubbing up in your pants as he pointedly motions his gaze to the ground. You kneel in front of Satoru and drool slips down his chin as his pupils chase after you. Suguru chuckles, wiping it away and wiping it off on Satoru’s shirt — to which he hears no complaint. Suguru stands behind you, bending at his waist to peer down. It’s unfair how pretty he is from any angle. The Gods took their time making him. Of that, you are certain.

“Ready, sweetheart?” you nod, opening your saccharine-sweet mouth; Suguru pats your cheek as praise and undoes Satoru’s pants for you. His cock springs out, nearly bumping into your nose as it strains and twitches in the open air. When Suguru holds it, Satoru grunts and raises his hips. Fucking into his fist like a dog in heat. Suguru regards this with a shake of his head and guides Satoru to your mouth. You form a fist around your thumb, looking up at Satoru through your lashes as you wrap your lips around him.

Suguru straightens his composure. He takes in the sight.

Satoru and you know better than to be handsy. The pale-haired man grabs onto the bars of the window behind him, breathing through his nose as the toe of his shoes dig into the floors. You slip your eyelids close and languish in the taste of Satoru’s cock — breathing through your nose as well as you bob your head.

Fuck, Suguru missed this. He really did. He could get off on this alone. Just watched as both of you enjoyed the other. His darling boyfriends, who so obediently listen to his whims even if he didn’t say it out loud.

Who could ask for more?

Suguru strokes over your eyebrow and barely stifles a laugh when you tilt your head so Satoru’s tip pokes your cheeks.

“Good boy. My sweet boy.”

His voice alone makes you want to give in to whatever it is he asks of you — it’s insane how much power and sway he has. Your charming Suguru.

Satoru moans, swiftly reaching out and gripping onto the collar of Suguru’s top. They kiss. Fighting for dominance because Satoru needs to be pushed into submission. He relishes being put in his place — smacked around a little.

You could pinpoint this kink originating from his frivolous childhood and naturally talented self needing some sort of edge to sink down into a more fuzzy headspace.

Or perhaps Satoru was just a brat and he trusted his lovers enough to relinquish that control. Both theories worked.

Suguru grunts as Satoru tugs at his hair, the pleasant tinge of pain making his dick strain against his loose pants. You spot it from the corner of your eyes, an obscene slurping sound coming from you as you attempt to not make this blowjob too messy. An impossible task, really. But a worthy effort.

“Your lips taste like cherry, why?” Satoru’s question catches Suguru off-guard. He expected Satoru’s usual quips and huffiness. He indulges.

“(Y/N) wore cherry-flavoured lipgloss.”

The proof is in the coloured streaks on his dick. You feel it twitch on your tongue and pull away, your hot breath on his cockhead making precum leak out of his blushing tip. You rest it on your velvet tongue, unabashedly pouting to kiss the tip and then taking him inside again. Those slightly shimmery streaks made Satoru grit his teeth.

“I didn’t know those came in flavours,” Satoru moans. “How come you don’t wear that for me too?”

“Because it’s for me, you little shithead,” Suguru growls lowly. Their foreheads touch as he tightens his grip on Satoru’s neck, the pressure making Satoru’s eyelids flutter for a second. “It’s my prize for exorcising curses.”

“You jealous?” you wonder out loud. The answer was clear but there was a rush to make Satoru admit it.

“Yes, I am!” He curses for a moment as you descend further down to lick at his balls, looking up at him still as if this conversation was taking place over a dinner table and not in an alleyway with society just a few meters away. As if his dick wasn't on your face while you feel his balls tightening up on your tongue.

Seriously, if somebody peered down long enough they would most definitely catch sight of the three of you here.

“I just – just...fuck, I missed the two of you too. It’s completely unfair you’ve been keeping this from me too! I’ll never forgive you.”

Suguru grabs the back of your neck and pulls you backward. His large hands effectively push your head down further and further until your nose is at the neat patch of pubic hair Satoru has. You relax your throat and jaw, eyes watering while you brace your hands on Satoru’s thighs.

“So why didn’t you just tell us that, darling?" Suguru purrs. "Instead, you chose to be a brat and stomp around. You’re better than that, Satoru. Aren’t you? Hm?”

You gag but Suguru holds you in place. His hand barely has any real strength behind it. If you jerked backward, he would not hold you in place. No, no. Suguru’s power comes from the lack of strength he needs to exhibit. His dominance is in the ease Suguru commands it.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You needed him inside of you.

“Screw you, Suguru,” Satoru chokes out.

He pulls you off. You cough, spit staining your chin as you smile loosely at them. Suguru then pulls you onto your feet, pushes you to the wall, and undoes your pants. You bite down on your lower lip, staring at Satoru as you brace your hands onto the wall just next to him. Satoru watches on, trying to keep himself strong by pretending he isn’t affected by the sight before him.

Suguru gathers spit in his mouth but pauses as he feels the candy wrapper in your pockets. The chocolate brand makes his brows raise. It’s expensive. No doubt Satoru’s influence had rubbed off on you. Only one company in the world made this chocolate, its pink colour is a dead giveaway. No wonder your cherry-flavoured gloss tasted so strong, it was complimented nicely by the leftover taste of this ruby chocolate.

He lets your pants pool around your ankles while he takes a bite. It wasn’t disgustingly soft, but your body heat made it melt quickly on his tongue. He spreads your ass apart and spits a thick glob of his spit and pink chocolate. The sensation sends shivers up your back and you arch your back further, unsure about the new sensation.

“Suguru, that was expensive — ngh!”

Your eyes widen as he presses his cock inside. You were thankful for your morning romp with them. It loosened you up enough that Suguru’s impatience didn’t cause pain and only mild discomfort — he reaches forward to jerk your cock off to ebb it away and you moan out his name.

“Shh, shh, not so loud. We’re still outside, baby.”

Satoru groans, reaching to toss his glasses away as he turns his back to the entrance and gives you his full attention. He’s craving touch. To taste or to mark you up. To do anything, really. He is goddamn hypnotized by the way Suguru’s dick thrusts in and out of you. Suguru gives you a good fucking for too short of a time — pounding into you like a jackhammer and making you nearly bite your tongue off in an attempt to keep quiet before he pulls out.

Your knees buckle, thighs twitching as you try to keep yourself upright. Satoru’s knees thud onto the floor and he greedily laps at Suguru’s cock, moaning at the creamy taste. The same flavour leaks out of you while you catch your breath. The mouth of the alleyway is quiet but there are still the faint noises of the city just there. A few big strides away. But there. It excites you. You imagine it’s exciting your equally perverted boyfriends too.

"Satoru," Suguru groans at the sight of him. You peel yourself from the wall. Shoulders thudding onto the hard surface while your pants drop to your ankles. Shakily, you use your feet to push it all the way off, eyes trained on Satoru savouring the flavour of Suguru and the ruby chocolate. He pulls away with a breathy 'pwah!' and strokes Suguru's creamy dick.

You're tempted to join Satoru. Just sharing Suguru's cock, kissing Satoru with his cockhead between your lips. Fuck, just the thought has your dick slapping lightly against your navel. Suguru plants a hand near your head, turning his head to kiss you while the other is tugging on the roots of Satoru's head. a

"Both of my boys are being so obedient," he says after a deliciously deep groan of Satoru's name. "We missed you," you reply in a whiny whisper.

"Missed you so much, S'guru..."

Satoru moans, pulling away as he catches his breath and shares a heated gaze.

"Fuck, I missed you so badly. Missed this dick too," Satoru turns to your crotch and kisses the underside of your dick. It makes your breath hitch, hips jerking forward. The wetness of your precum smears on Satoru's cheek a bit but he doesn't even mind. Nor does he seem to notice.

"These cocks are the only ones that make me this hungry."

Suguru glances at the alleyway. You're not loud enough to draw attention. Still, better safe than sorry.

"Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure." You throw your head back to laugh. A veil was meant to conceal, protect those outside of it, and maintain secrecy. To use it so improperly.

The three of you were truly perverted.

"What's got you all giggly?" Suguru speaks against your lips. Tilting your chin upwards then squeezing the sides of your neck just to relish in the way you bare your neck to him.

"You used a veil," Satoru speaks for you. He raises, ignoring Suguru's pointed glance in favour of unbuttoning your shirt and kissing down your chest. His lips are sticky, smears of pink tainting you but you find it hard to care. "He's laughing because he thinks we're perverts."

"What are you? A mind reader now, Satoru?" You huff.

"I might as well be, huh?" Satoru smirks. He's so handsome that it makes your chest hurt sometimes. You're against the wall, exits blocked by Suguru and Satoru and you wouldn't have it any other way. "You know, I missed you too. It's been weeks — "

"Three days," Suguru and you corrected.

"Weeks. And this morning wasn't enough. We did such a good job, those wrinkle bags can't complain if we just so happened to work overtime, right?"

Ijichi can't stop his cheek from heating up. It's painfully, painfully, obvious why the three of you took your time for this mission. He had waited in the car for the first hour, then occupied himself with some coffee at a nearby cafe but by the third hour, Ijichi almost called Principal Yaga.

Three Special Grade Sorcerers took that long to exorcise an abandoned building. Surely, something must have happened!

Yet, seeing you sleeping on Suguru's lap with your legs across Satoru's lap confirms the real reason why it took the three of you that long.

Satoru has a weighted eye mask, head tossed back as he recuperates. This gives Ijichi a clear sight of his marked-up neck. Your shirt is wrinkled, hitched up from the bend of your waist, and giving him the whispers of handmarks. Suguru met his gaze from the rearview and Ijichi whispered out an apology.

"No, please. We're sorry for keeping you waiting." Suguru is brushing your bangs back, gently wiping down some residual stickiness on your cheeks with wet wipes (that Ijichi had made a point to stock up on in the car after earlier missions involving you three).

"No, I understand," he says with a shaky voice. Sighing a little he laughed awkwardly from the driver's seat.

"You must've been missing them a lot for those three days they've been gone, Mr Geto."

Suguru's expression softens, leaning one shoulder down when Satoru leans to place his head on his shoulders.

"It's hard not to. I love them."

#s3thwrit3sstuff #reader insert #male reader #male reader insert #gay reader #male!reader #gojo satoru x male reader #geto suguru x male reader #jjk x male reader #satosugu x reader #satosugu x male reader

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wellen-katze · 5 months

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Curse of a vampyr - bg3 a.astarion, tav comic

Hehe, I love drawing dark Tav, it's fun!

When it was said in the epilogue that A.Astarion would live in cazadors mansion, I was a bit surprised because I really expected him to build something new. But no - he wants to live in the same building, filled with dark memories, just like cazador! What a wonderful (scary) writing decision!

I always appreciated that d&d handles vampires like actual cursed creatures because as a horror genre lover, I don't really enjoy the modern fantasy vampire who just seems to be another superpower-"human".

That's probably one of the reasons why I love drawing ascended Astarion so much haha~

And some context if u don't understand what this is about:

YT link cazador's mind

#baldur's gate 3 #comic #digital art #fanart #bg3 #astarion #comicstrip #baldurs gate #tav #act 3 spoiler #ascended astarion

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roosterforme · 22 hours

Text

Covering the Classics Part 12 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: When Anna noticed that a new poem by her favorite, amateur writer had been posted, she was afraid to read the finality in his tone. But Bob always managed to surprise her. And maybe she could find a way to surprise Kevin, too.

Warnings: Angst, Kevin is a dick, adult language, 18+

Length: 3600 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!

After that, it was radio silence. Anna didn't reach out to Bob, and he didn't try to either. He went to the Hard Deck on Friday night and lasted about an hour before excusing himself. Nobody asked him why he was bailing after one ginger ale and a single cup of peanuts, and that was enough to tell him that everyone knew. Everyone knew he slept with Anna. Everyone knew she was married. Everyone knew that they shouldn't talk about it in front of him for fear that the ladies would snap their necks. Even Nat was being very kind and considerate which wasn't really like her at all.

When Bob was halfway to the door, he felt a small hand curl around the back of his bicep. "I'll see you tomorrow night for D&D?"

He nodded down at Jessica's hopeful face. "Yeah. I can pick you up if you want."

Her face brightened a little bit. "I'll text you in the morning." He turned to walk out, and her hand slid down his arm. "Hey, Bob? Don't give up hope on her, okay?"

He didn't know how to respond, so he just kept walking. He had no idea what to say or what to think. It wasn't like he could stop loving someone overnight. He didn't really want to either. Anna's life was quite frankly messier than he had ever expected. She did a pretty good job of hiding it from everyone, and it seemed like she would have continued down that path if they didn't have sex. And that was the other issue; it wasn't just sex to Bob. Anna knew about the things he tried to hide himself, and she seemed to want him in that moment anyway.

Her words from the previous night made him ache.

'You're perfect. You're Sky Writing. You're the handsome man from the bookstore who smells like tea and soap. You're Bob, the guy my friends knew I would fall in love with as soon as I met them.'

If that meant she was in love with him or that she thought she could be someday, then he was afraid to walk away from her. But now he was terrified of getting hurt or somehow hurting Anna like Kevin had. Part of him believed if he could just see Anna's husband with his own eyes, confirm that he was exactly the way she described him, then he might be able accept that she just needed time to settle her divorce and to heal. If that was the case, he wanted to make it work.

In the meantime, when he got home, he ended up standing in his living room, staring at his bookshelf before going upstairs and staring at his bed. He could still picture her red hair all spread out for him. He could still feel it between his fingers as the silky strands slid along his palm. He could taste her on his tongue. He could hear her telling him what she wanted.

Bob picked up his computer and slipped under the covers, knowing he wasn't going to be able to sleep right now.

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

It had been there since early Saturday morning. A new one. Anna desperately wanted to read it and memorize it like she had the others, but she was afraid to face the finality. Her email alert mocked her every time she looked at it.

Sky Writing has posted a new, original work! Click the link below to check out the subscriber that you follow!

Bob wrote a new poem, and she didn't think she could handle reading exactly how he viewed her now. He'd never be like Kevin, openly belittling her or putting her down, but she knew the shiny packaging had been removed now, and he saw what was really inside. Just a mess of a human. She put off reading it and put off reading it, but when she was sitting at her desk at work on Monday, she made herself decide between reading the new poem or calling Kevin. After a fairly short debate, she decided to read the poem. It was probably so bad, calling Kevin later wouldn't even feel painful in comparison.

She tapped on the link in her email and was taken to something so unexpected, she gasped as she read it.

There is empty space on my bookshelf,

The one I bought with you in mind.

I didn't know it was for you at the time,

But one night made it obvious,

Before an instance took it.

Reality surpassed intention today.

Your worn favorites and mine pristine,

Should mingle and mix,

Genre forgotten.

Dog eared pages became so endearing.

But I'll never see them on my shelf,

Unless you come back and stay this time.

The format was different from what he usually wrote, but it was so obviously Sky Writing. So obviously Bob. So obviously about her. And he didn't sound angry. Could he possibly miss her after everything she did and said?

She jumped when her phone vibrated on her desk, and for a split second, she believed it could be Bob. Her heart beat faster with anticipation, but it was from somebody else.

Jessica Reed: If you don't come down to this weird tree right now, we're going to come up and get you.

Anna had lost track of time. It was after noon now. She knew that her friends were trying to make sure she was holding herself together after she refused to go to the Hard Deck over the weekend. How could she continue to go somewhere that Bob had the rights to first? It wasn't until she read his Sky Writing poem that she thought perhaps there was a chance he might not only be okay with her presence but perhaps even miss her like she missed him.

With her sad little lunch in hand, she dragged herself down to the quad, trying to decide when was the best time to call Kevin. She was tired of going through lawyers who couldn't seem to get him to budge, and each ninety day window just ate away at more of her soul. She should have been so much more careful with her writing when she had the opportunity, and now he'd completely locked her out of being able to access it.

No, she was going to have to beg him, plead with him, anything it took to get what she wanted without giving away where she'd moved. Maybe if he agreed to let her have her manuscript, one of her friends would let her borrow money for a flight back to New Jersey to retrieve it. She was getting ahead of herself, but she couldn't help it. She needed to at least get this one thing.

"There she is!"

Anna looked up to see her friends directly in front of her on the bench by the tree, and the fact that they both looked happy to see her made her heart ache. "Hi," she said softly as she sat down between them when they both scooted over.

"Hummus?" her friend asked, passing along a container while she bit into her perfect looking chicken salad sandwich on artisan bread. Anna accepted a few bites of Bradley's gourmet snack, because she was absolutely starving today.

"Thanks," she murmured, and she let herself sink into the background a little bit as the two other women continued the conversation they'd been having. Now that she was down here with his friends, she couldn't stop thinking about Bob again. His soft hair and his kind eyes. The way he always paid attention to her when she was talking. How good he made her feel.

She listened to her friends argue about alumni weekend for a few minutes before she finally cut them off to ask, "Has Bob said anything about me?" Both of them looked at her, and she quickly added, "I can't stop thinking about him."

Jessica smiled softly and said, "Not a word, but I've never seen him look so sad. And I mean that in a good way, because although I know he's confused and hurt, I'm pretty sure he just misses you."

"But," the other woman quickly cut in, "the most important thing right now is making sure you take care of yourself. Even if you are in love with Bob."

"Oh!" Jessica exclaimed. "I have an idea! We could just kill Kevin!"

Anna snorted in spite of herself. "That would actually solve a lot of my problems. Maybe even all of them."

"Only one problem with that," Advanced Calculus said blandly. "You're not a killer, Jessica."

"I could kill someone," Jessica muttered under her breath, and truly Anna almost laughed, because Jessica Reed was one of the gentlest people she'd ever met. The most violent thing about her was her Dungeons & Dragons character. "I could at least probably slap him."

"He wouldn't know what hit him," Anna said, and all three women erupted into laughter. And it felt so strange to feel genuine happiness, even if it only lasted for a few seconds, that Anna almost started crying. As their amusement died down, she asked her friends, "Do you think.... Bob would respond if I texted him?"

Jessica squeaked, and then both women said, "Yes."

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

Bob was back to square one. Back at the bookstore. He was fifteen minutes early. He was already looking through the Classics. He was about to meet up with Anna. He was nervous.

Nat scoffed when he told her where he was going, and he truly did appreciate that his friend wanted him to proceed with caution, but she just didn't understand how Anna made him feel. Being friends with her after sleeping together a total of one time might kill him, but he knew that was probably all he could have now.

It was almost like he could sense that she was there. He looked up from the Shakespeare volume in his hand, and he saw her walk in the door. As he got closer to the loft railing, he saw her glance up and meet his eyes like it was some depraved version of Romeo and Juliet. She mouthed the word Hi before she headed for the stairs, and in less than a minute, she was standing right in front of him.

Anna looked nervous, but everything else was just the same. Those perfect freckles decorated her face. Her brown eyes were bright. Her pretty hair was in a messy braid. He saw her burgundy nail polish as she fidgeted with her denim jacket. He wanted to know if she still thought he was the kind of person she could love. He wanted to ask her if her husband was any closer to signing papers. Instead he said, "I was surprised when you texted me."

Her eyes went wide, and he wished he could shove his foot in his mouth as she started looking around anywhere but at his face. "I need some books for my feminist literature course, and I just thought maybe you'd like more books for your bookshelf."

Had she read his newest poem? It was a sloppy one that he wrote late on Friday night and posted on a whim. She could have deleted her account by now or vowed never to read anything else by Sky Writing. But that didn't stop the poem from being about her.

"I do need some more books for my shelves," he replied, and her eyes finally settled on his again. "And you don't have to be nervous around me. I know you're dealing with a lot, and I promise I won't touch you or anything."

Now she just looked sad and distraught, but she nodded and turned down the very aisle where they first met. Bob had to fight to keep a few feet of space between them as she said, "I'm looking for Mary Wollstonecraft, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, and Elizabeth Cady Stanton."

They worked their way slowly up and back down each aisle, falling into a natural conversation in spite of the awkwardness between them. In spite of the way Bob couldn't keep himself from looking at her as she ran her fingers along the spines. When she wanted something that was on a top shelf, he reached it down for her. When her hands got full, he offered his up for her use. And to his delight and also sadness, she kept recommending books for him along the way. That's how he ended up with Miss Pettigrew Lives For a Day as well as The Importance of Being Earnest in his hand when she led the way downstairs to pay.

Bob cleared his throat as Anna reached into her pocket for some cash. "I can get them."

Her brown eyes snapped up to meet his, and her cheeks turned pink. He already knew what Kevin did, and while he didn't think there was any harm in saying it, he could tell that she at least had her pride intact. "The college is going to reimburse me," she said firmly before handing forty dollars across the counter.

"Right," Bob said before paying for his own books. When they walked out into the fading sunlight, he looked down into her pretty face. "Will you let me drive you home? Not because I think I need to, but because I want to?"

She seemed at war with herself as she looked across the street and pressed her lips together. But her eyes fluttered closed and she said, "I would really appreciate that."

The interior of his truck was quiet the whole way as their books sat on the seat between them. Only the soft hum of the radio helped Bob hold his thoughts at bay. The ride wasn't too long, and when they were most of the way there, Anna finally spoke.

"I'm going to deal with my shit. I promise."

Unsure exactly how he should respond, Bob simply said, "Okay."

When he pulled up in front of her building, he turned toward her, intending to ask if she wanted him to walk her up, but she was gathering her books together as she said, "I don't know how you feel about me now. I don't know if you could want me again. But I am going to deal with Kevin. I am going to fix my life. Because I want to move on. I need to." When he was so flustered that he didn't immediately respond, Anna said, "You know where to find me. Thanks for the ride."

He watched her run up the sidewalk before struggling to open the door with her arms full, and then she ducked inside when he finally figured out what he wanted to say. "I'll find you."

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

If Anna even had a hope or a prayer at a chance with Bob ever again, she needed to work up the nerve. A real chance with him now that he knew all about her disastrous marriage was what she wanted, but she needed to sort Kevin out first.

As far as she could tell, everything came down to two options: keep her freedom by giving Kevin ownership of her manuscript, or keep her self worth by fighting until she didn't have anything left to give up. And both of them sounded terrifying. The whole weekend passed where she tried so many times to call him. She took her phone out again and again, let her thumb hover over her husband's phone number, and then chickened out. His voice was like a distant memory, and she didn't want to bring it back to the forefront of her mind. He hadn't reached out one time since she up and left without telling him where she was going, and she was afraid to let him know where she was now.

The worst part was, he would know immediately why she was calling. He knew that he had the one thing she wanted. He cut off her access to the cloud files where she should have been able to piece her writing back together. It would have been time consuming, but she would have been all too happy to do it. She should have known better than to let him have so much of her life and so many of her resources in only his name, but there was a time when she trusted him. That was the part that made her so sick. She had trusted her husband, and now look where it got her.

A shiver went through her body as she woke up for work too early on Monday morning. She wanted Kevin's computer where everything was saved. She wanted access to the cloud. She didn't want a damn penny from him otherwise. She was aggressively brushing her teeth, wishing she had more to eat than a granola bar when she spit out her toothpaste and rinsed her mouth.

She hated him. She hated him so much, she was going to call him right now. Without a backward glance, she marched over to where her phone was charging and pulled the cable out. Before she could even think about exactly what she was going to say, she tapped on his stupid name.

Anna was breathing fast and deep, her heart pounding in her ears when she heard his voice for the first time in so many months.

"Anna?" he asked, her whole body cringing after just one word. His voice was scratchy as if she had woken him up, but it was 9:16 in New Jersey. He should be on his way to work if not there already.

"Kevin," she snapped, gripping her phone tighter. She was getting angrier by the second as she listened to him yawn while she looked around her tiny apartment.

His tone was condescending as he said, "Of course you'd call me at six in the fucking morning after I haven't hear a word from you except through a lawyer since July. What the hell do you want?"

She couldn't do this. She couldn't talk to him. While she felt strong a few minutes ago, her resolve was already crumbling. She wanted to tell him that he knew damn well what she wanted, but then she zeroed in on what he said. "What do you mean it's six in the morning? It's after nine."

His voice was suddenly loud and harsh. "I meant exactly what I said. I'm in California for a medical convention. Now get to the point of your call."

Her mouth felt like sandpaper as she carefully put her phone on speaker. She started searching for Neurological conventions in California while she told him, "I just want my manuscript. Please, Kevin. That's all I want, and then you can be rid of me."

The bite was gone from his voice, replaced by a lazy tone, and he spoke to her as if she were a very simple child. "It's not going to happen, Anna. I didn't cut off access to it for no reason. It's worth money. You can pay me for it, or you can kiss it goodbye. I might even publish it myself."

She was gasping for air as she scrolled through her search results, coming up with a conference in Carlsbad that was starting today. As the page loaded, she swallowed and told him, "I'll sue you if you do." But even she knew she was full of shit.

"What what money, Anna? I'm surprised you can still afford your lawyers. I don't even want to know what you're doing to make ends meet right now."

Then she saw it. She saw his name. He was a keynote speaker at the National Neurological Physicians Association conference. He was less than an hour away. She sank down to her knees in surprise and fear. Her mind was swirling with information and ideas, and she couldn't even comprehend what Kevin was saying now.

"What?" she gasped.

"I said come up with some money for me, or I'm not signing shit." Then he ended the call as her hands started shaking. She dropped her phone onto her bed. He was in Carlsbad. Maybe she could surprise him. Maybe she could talk him into it easier in person.

Anna had to run to the bathroom to be sick, but her mind was made up. Once she cleaned herself up again, she tearfully made the decision to cancel her morning classes via email, and then she started grabbing her purse and her essentials. She folded up the newest copy of the divorce paperwork her lawyer had emailed to her and tucked it away. Then she ran for the bus stop, nearly tripping several times as she read through the schedule of speakers who were at the conference this week on her phone. If she caught a bus within the next fifteen minutes, she might make it in time to see Kevin right before he gave his welcome speech.

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

We will meet Kevin in the next chapter. Now is an acceptable time to start sharpening your knives. Bob, please don't give up on Anna. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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#bob floyd x oc #robert bob floyd x oc #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fic #bob floyd fanfiction #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd fanfiction #robert floyd fic #robert floyd #robert floyd x oc #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #covering the classics

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impyssadobsessions · 3 months

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I don't have much time but I wanted to share this with you while I can! I can't draw but I can write and this is the only way I can share this imagery with you!

The world is passing by in a flurry of colors.

Which usually isn’t that unusual for Clark…usually though it’s because his flying of his own accord. Now…now it was because he was hurdling who knows how fast in piece of metal that was more of a mobile armory then an actual RV then it supposedly was.

There were no support handles to hold on to for just a bit of comfort, no, that was replaced by a handle that would pull down and release a fog horn sound.

So all he could do was pull his knees up to steady himself against the front console, using his size to squeeze himself into a cannonball form in hopes he didn’t get dislodged on a particular rough bump.

Then again if he did, maybe he could get propelled forward and through the front and take the engine out on his way.

Wishful thinking…at least he was doing better then Bruce.

Who was currently sprawled out on the floor of the RV looking like a disheveled cat hanging on to whatever and however he could. Maybe it would look more natural in his Batman outfit but at the moment both if them were in civilian wear and seeing the ‘Prince of Gotham’ doing an impression of a deranged starfish just added on more to today’s bizarreness.

Jack Fenton was giving him a large smile as he drove through another wall, “Don’t you guys worry! I’ll get us to our boys! No speed limit or any barrier can stop a Fenton!”

Clark could only let out a groan of despair as a response...

AMG THIS IS LOVELY LMAO!!! Bruce just imitating one of his sons to keep himself from being thrashed around.. or worse... throw up. ahhhh imagine they both slump out of the rv when they arrive, shaking and so grateful to touch the ground. Bruce is definitely calling for a private jet after this and Clark might agree to ride with him just to have a slower ride.

Danny gives them pity pats when he learns... Jon and Damian like how bad could it be. Damian thinking his father been in a space ship and Jon like we fly that fast every- Only for them to be overheard by Jack by their curiosity, so they all end up being drove back by him. Which bruce and clark like OH GOD please- which becomes a little relief when it turns out Jack drives safer with children.... still deranged but one they can handle. Damian still doesn't see what got their fathers so twisted up. Danny knows though and then asks dad how long it took them. "Regrettably 3 hours son. I was hoping it would be two." Damian frowned and done the math then asking if there was a flying feature in the... rv? "AHA! Nope, but I've been trying to convince Mads to let me install one. She said it would cost too much in gas though, and take up room for the ghost scanner." Damian does the math.. then realizes why his father and clark are shaking in the rv.. even by the tiniest of amounts. "That's my dad! :D" Danny grinning. "He's cool." Jon says innocently enough, not realizing the horror of that statement until it takes them over five hours to get home. Jack decided to play it safe and follow SOME speed limits and road signs. Jack is never allowed to drive again next time they hang out. Bruce or Clark always gets the keys =w= or has limo. ahh sorry got inspired. I LOVE this snippet ;w; !!!! <3 Thank you for writing this. <3<3<3

Link to prompt

#dpxdc #dp x dc #superdads + Jack #jack fenton #clark kent #bruce wayne #asks #dc crossover #dp crossover #impyelam #fanfic #fanfic by someone else #<3 #supersons + 1 #dcxdp

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mukumukunomi · 7 months

Text

Not Alone. Never Alone. (part 1)

Luffy x Fem!Reader

cw: fluff, no smut, first love, implied semi-relationship, no manga spoilers, takes place just after East Blue's arc in live action, idiots in love

wc: 1,663

a/n: This is part one of a a short and sweet two parter. I'll be uploading it soon hopefully! Still thinking of more cute one-shots I can write as well. Part two will be linked below

Part Two (Luffy)

❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦

You tell him that getting involved would result in disaster.

But Luffy is a magnet for disaster. He’s chaos incarnate. Brutally honest to a flaw with a kindness that shatters ideals and shakes the foundation of the world. It’s as rare as it is maddening.

“I'm serious. It’s better if I go alone tonight instead of tomorrow.”

The words bite through the silence. It actually forces Luffy away from shoveling the food in his mouth as he eyes you up and down.

“Where are we going?”

You sigh. He’s not listening to you. Not really. The words are going in but not processing. Luffy always does it when he hears something he doesn’t like. He simply states what he wants instead like the universe will bend itself to his will.

Maybe it does.

“Not ‘we��. I am going to go to the island. Me. Not you.”

Luffy frowns. You know he doesn’t doubt your strength nor your character. But it’s the subtle narrowing of his eyes and the way he slowly chews his food that gives his emotions away. He’s annoyed, you think.

“I don’t want ya’ to go alone.”

You sigh dramatically. He’s like a petulant child. His reasoning confounds you. “I’ll be careful.”

He breaks gaze with you to take another huge bite of meat. It’s impressive how he manages to scarf it down in the span of two minutes before he’s once again berating you. “But I can be stealthy!”

You wipe a crumb from his cheek. His face is twisted, eyes avoiding you. He whistles a broken tune mainly because he’s terrible at whistling. Sweat drips down his face. All the tells convincing you that your captain would be terrible poker player. “Leave the lying to Usopp. It’s not your forte. And leave the stealthiness to me. It’s my forte.”

His concern isn’t unwarranted. You're sneaking into the lair of people who once held you as a short-time captive long ago. They’re not as fearsome as some of the pirates you and the crew have encountered, but nevertheless have connections to people you’d rather avoid.

You’re wanted in more waters than the prospective King of the Pirates beside you. The ties of your family and the status they have in this world make it so you’re looking over your shoulder at all times. You’ve never known freedom until the strange being named Monkey D. Luffy stumbled into your life.

But you know the layout of this particular place, and it has something the crew requires. Without it they can’t continue their journey forward. And you’d be damned if you were the one holding them back.

“It’ll be quick. In and out. They’ll never even know! I spent a lot of time there as a prisoner so-.”

Luffy slams the meat bone onto the plate in front of him. He calls Sanji for more. Sanji’s disgruntled reply echoes from the kitchen to your place on the deck. You almost think the thing is settled until Luffy’s blazing eyes meet yours again.

The words are harsh. “I’m going.”

“Luffy, we don’t need to waste time on something I can handle myse-”

“That’s an order from the captain.”

His voice holds no cheerfulness. He’s never used that tone with you before. It’s the tone of finality. It means that Luffy has heard you out and he’s overruling you. You’ve seen him use it on people. You’ve never had it used on you before. The abruptness of it makes you stand.

Hurt flares in your chest. Did he not trust you? Did he actually think you were weak? The logical part of your brain screams ‘no!’ but it’s buried in the torrent of emotions. Here was a chance to prove just how useful you could be. Prove you belonged on this crew. Why did he have to be so difficult?

Luffy’s attention diverts again. He settles back into his mantra of consuming whatever is in front of him as Sanji places another plate of meat down. You make eye contact with the cook, who simply shrugs at the mood the captain is in. You huff in anger and decide being anywhere else is better than talking to the brick wall with a straw hat.

Habit finds you in the main meeting area of the Going Merry. Besides the currently absent presence of Sanji in the small kitchen, the crew’s swordsman is dozing lazily in the corner of the common space. You can’t tell if he’s supposed to be sharpening his sword or is sneaking the booze supply. It surprises you to see him in cohabitation with Sanji in the same room at all.

You plop next to Zoro. You draw your knees up to your chest and rest your elbows on your knees. You let out a long, dragged out keening noise of frustration.

“He shut you down, huh?”

Without looking, you smack his shoulder. Zoro simply scoffs as he tries to get more comfortable against the wall. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You eye his form. “You said he’d be stubborn. Nami suggested I wait until he was eating to try to convince him.”

Zoro shifts the Wado Ichimonji on his hip. “Yeah, Nami’s right about that. He’s pretty susceptible when food’s on offer. You can convince him to do almost anything.”

The groan that is your reply is muffled by your arms. "Apparently not everything."

He taps the hilt of the blade on your head. “Problem wasn’t the timing. It was the subject.”

Your brows scrunch together. “The subject?”

“You.”

“You’re saying that I’m the problem.”

Zoro smirks. “Yup.”

You shove his shoulder at his shit-eating grin. Luffy and you care for each other. More than friendship. Not quite romantic. You're not sure if he even knows how to be. So you both settle for a comfortable in-between where labels are irrelevant. You’re free to explore this feeling between you two and see where it leads. Despite his naivete, there’s a quiet confidence in Luffy’s chaste kisses. In lingering touches and odd looks that make your heart rate elevate. There are moments where you wonder if he truly knows the effect he has on you.

You’re in love with him. So in love with him. You don’t know how deep his love for you runs. It terrifies you.

Your indignant snort reverberates the space. “I don’t understand.”

The moss-head rolls his eyes at you and takes a swig of a bottle. “If you don’t understand then you may be an even bigger idiot than he is.”

You decide that the room is more stuffy as you feel hot embarrassment at his remark. “At least I’m an idiot that can find my way around.”

The swordsman makes an interesting coughing noise as you get up and exit back onto the deck.

Going Merry is docked at the north end of the inlet. It shrouds your little caravel just enough that you can still see the top of the fortress that lies beyond the hill to the south. You can see that the clouds are beginning to move eastward as a warm wind blows from the storm front to the west. Luffy is no longer where he was, but you can hear the echoes of his voice from below. Sanji passes you to return to the kitchen to clean up and lock the fridge, which will hopefully keep a certain pest (captain) away. You begin descending the stairs to the main deck as Sanji and Zoro’s voices start to hurl insults at each other from behind.

The only one who remains on deck is Nami, who’s staring at a map of the island on the flat end of an upright barrel. An oil lamp burns beside her to give light. You rest your chin on her shoulder and hum at the layout. “That’s wrong.”

You point to the secret entrance Nami’s drawn. “It’s just to the west of the hill at the base. And that forest stretches all the way to the coastline too.”

Nami frowns and marks the correction with a pen. “Damn, I’ll have to redraw again at some point.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You say, voice turning bitter. “It’s not worth that kind of effort.”

You hope to never see this island again after this.

Nami simply raises an eyebrow. “You sound upset. What did Luffy say?”

You tend to forget how perceptive the navigator is. “He ordered me to let him come. Ordered! Like a captain! Can you believe that?”

“Ah. Well he is the captain.” Nami clicks her tongue, “Serious tone and all too?”

You nod. “Any chance of still changing his mind?”

The tangerine colored strands of her hair flow gently in the breeze as Nami laughs. “Absolutely not. But maybe it’s for the best. We both know how stubborn he can be.”

She snuffs the oil lamp out and folds the map to put in her pocket. Without the warm light, the ship is suddenly shrouded in an eerie darkness. The only light left is from the pale glow of the moon. Nami shifts her attention back to you. “Heading to bed. You?”

Usopp’s snores have already begun to resound across the ship. There are heavy footsteps below you from the men’s quarters. There’s a brief moment of loud talking and heavy things being thrown before peace once again returns to the Going Merry.

You gaze up at the stars. “In a minute. I forgot something in the kitchen.”

The navigator yawns as she walks away. You watch her disappear below. There’s a heavy feeling in your gut as you move towards the ship’s railing. You peer over it, gazing at the strip of land alongside your ship.

Luffy could be stubborn. But so could you.

The warm air turns cold as you inhale shakily. You do a double take of the surroundings again to make sure you’re alone.

“Sorry, Luffy.”

You throw the rope ladder down and descend as quietly as possible.

#monkey d. luffy x reader #one piece #opla #monkey d. luffy #muku'sfics #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #one piece x reader

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seeingivy · 2 months

Text

picnic

sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friend's older brother fic

previous part linked here

(^^make sure you check since this was a double upload and I posted the last one very recently :D)

dear head of the cullen clan, keep evening plans open – im getting off work early and we’re going on a picnic. coldest regards, the head of the volturi (ps. am expecting a very wholehearted appreciation for the fact that it’s coldest regards and not warmest regards, because they are, in fact, vampires and therefore cold. because they don’t have a heart and such.) (extra ps. this is a link to a shared spotify playlist. i’ll add a song and then you add one. we’ll keep it going.)

you snort.

dear aro of the volturi (does he have a last name???), so much to unpack in one email, yet again. you really know how to keep a girl on her toes. first and foremost, you are SOOOO ran through. so offended that i wasn’t the person who got to put you on to twilight and whoever it was, I HOEP SHE DIES! if you’re team jacob, you’re a freak. second, SO VERY FLATTERED that you think i would be carlisle. a little haunting that you think YOU would be aro…but it’s ok cuz former companions to enemies back to lovers in our case would be kind of crazy??? third. done and done. i just added a song so hurry up bc i have like ten other songs i want to add and i am #impatient see u after work pookie :D, carlisle cullen (very appreciative of the cold regards. you are a king among men.)

his response back is very prompt.

Never call me pookie again. (very offended that you think i’d be stupid enough to be team jacob. and direct your murderous rage towards yuuji and my mom, who forced me to watch it in theaters with them.)

you wait for sukuna at the park two blocks down the apartment complex. the sun is hours away from dipping into the horizon, the chilly wind rustling through the trees. you realize now that the red skirt and white sweater might betray you in a few hours but decide that you’ll simply have to steal his jacket when he gets here.

and you would have already but he’s twenty minutes late.

and while this part of the city is extremely safe, sukuna’s ever constant fear of people attacking you on subway trains and stabbing you in alleyways has instilled an acute fear of strangers in you, which is why you’re gripping the sparkly pink pepper spray he bought you very harshly in your palm right now.

you think it’s sweet that he bought you a pink one.

but of course it’s severely ironic that you almost used it on him.

because he scares the living daylights out of you, by placing his hand around your shoulder from behind.

“hey. i’m sorry i-”

“jesus fuck-”

you instinctively hold the pepper spray up to his face, your hands shaking in front of you.

“i’ll use it, you pervert!”

sukuna leans his head to the side, which is when you’re finally able to log that it’s actually him standing in front of you and not a stranger, and you drop your hands in embarrassment.

“i mean, i’d really appreciate it if you wouldn’t doll face but–”

“oh my god, sukuna. i thought you were trying to rob me!”

“i’m smarter than that. the only thing inside your purse is lip gloss, which has very little value to me.” sukuna responds, dropping the little basket at his feet and taking the little stalk of flowers out of the top handle.

“i’ll have you know that it’s actually sold out in every store right now. so you could make bank if you sold it.”

“don’t tempt me. and for your sake, i’ll accept the apology you didn’t give me for just trying to rob me of my eyesight and for calling me a pervert? i’m getting really tired of the age gap jokes, y/n.” sukuna responds, as he lifts your hands at your sides and places the stalk of flowers in your hand.

you give him a big smile as you press your nose to the flowers, the scent fresh in your nose. and sukuna props down, setting a billowing white blanket on the ground before he taps the spot next to him and signals for you to sit next to him.

“who needs eyes?” you joke, as you squeeze his hands and set the flowers down next to the little basket.

“me, dipshit. how else am i supposed to look at you?”

you cover your hands with your cheeks as you watch him place all of the little things inside the basket next to you, laying them out perfectly. it’s albeit a weird assortment – two wine glasses, perfectly wrapped sandwiches, a mini-cake, and strawberry lemonade.

“well, stop perceiving me. this is so weird!” you murmur.

it’s enough to catch his attention and stop him in his tracks.

“what?”

the question makes you pause. and a little embarrassed. it was a little harsh to say while you were joking.

“oh, i mean…i didn’t mean it like that! i was making a joke about perceiving because eyes…vision…and i almost took your vision away! and you perceive with your eyes, because how else would you see…”

sukuna smiles, before shaking his head, and continuing spilling out the last of the contents – a set of gouache paints and two little small canvases. and he drops to his feet, yanking his shoes off, before sitting flat on the blanket and gesturing for you to join him.

“there’s no way in hell that was what you meant. but we’ll ignore that for the time being.” sukuna responds, hiking his legs to his chest and gesturing towards the spread he just put out.

you tilt your head to the side in confusion.

“you look very pretty today.” sukuna responds.

“thanks! you too!”

he narrows his eyes.

“uh huh. well, pick what we do first. the paint, the sandwiches, or the weird wine glass cake.”

“the wine glass cake? like from tiktok?” you ask.

“correct. i’m really bad at��cute dates. so…i did some research.”

sukuna refuses to look at you. because after admitting it, he’s suddenly busied himself with reading the back of the box of paints, like it’s the most riveting, intriguing thing he’s ever read in his life.

but the pink flush that’s creeping down his neck betrays him entirely, as you reach forward and push the little box down. and sukuna’s already glaring at you.

you place your chin on the top of his knees, reaching for one of his hands and smiling.

“you did research for a date?”

“you can choke on your spit.”

you grin.

“you really know how to turn a girl on.”

“you’re filthy.”

you grin.

“and you’re actually so precious, i–”

“don’t call me precious, y/n.” he whines, as he reaches forward to flick on your forehead.

you smile as you sit by his side, tucking the folds of your skirt under your leg as you reach for both of the wine glasses and hand him one.

“so how humbling was it to have satoru explain all this to you?” you ask.

he sneers.

“don’t even ask. he’s like the biggest nuisance i’ve ever met in my life. top ten worst moments of my life.” sukuna responds.

“i’m flattered you humbled yourself to him for me.”

“i actually asked suguru. they’re like…two peas in a pod, they can’t do shit without each other. the paints and stuff they gave me and the nice basket too.”

“that’s sweet of them. remind me to send them something later to thank them.”

sukuna scoffs.

“no need. they were more than happy to give it up for you.”

“ah yes. i hear they’re big fans of this camping bag story. the scouts honor and the fake story we had to tell them makes a lot more sense now.” you respond.

sukuna rolls his eyes.

“okay, you know what? sue me. i was like sixteen sleeping next to a girl for the first time. god forbid i enjoyed myself. and i don’t know why they’re all so hyperfixated on that story because it was a very normal thing to assume when you’re asked that question.”

you snort.

“and you say you’re not a pervert…”

sukuna leans forward, his eyes flitting down to his lips before he looks back up at you. and he can tell that you’re in a mood, that you’re trying to push his buttons by annoying him.

“you know i despise you right?” he whispers.

you grin, leaning in.

“is that right?” you whisper back.

“oh yeah. you irritate me.”

there isn’t even a shred of earnestness in the words he’s uttering. you know he doesn’t mean them.

“keep going.” you respond, as he presses a warm kiss to the side of your cheek.

“you’re a nuisance.” – a kiss to your forehead.

“an irritation.” – a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“like a fucking thorn in my side.” – and a kiss to the sweet spot right in your neck and his hand snaking up your thigh, which makes you nearly keel your head back from the sensation.

you place your hands on his cheek and pull him back, face flushed and his eyes nearly glazed over.

“are you crazy?” you whisper.

“what?” he asks.

“we’re in public, dumbass. you can’t just start trying to rile me up.”

sukuna leans back, obliging.

“so you admit it? i was riling you up?”

“oh, shut up.”

you reach for the sandwiches and unpeel one for sukuna. before he takes it, he places a tiny white box in your lap.

you frown. first the fancy date but the jewelry too?

“sukuna. you didn’t–”

“just open it. i’m impatient and i’ve been waiting all day. and i actually think you’ll like it. otherwise, you’re ungrateful and rude and you hate me.” sukuna responds.

you give him a tight lipped smile before you open the little box and actually smile.

it’s a dainty silver chain – the exact same as sukuna’s from the chain-links, but the build is a little thinner. and right at the center, a little charm of a star.

you reach forward for his chain, dangling around his collarbone. and surely enough, in addition to the original charm he had of an interlocked circle, there’s a star charm added right next to it.

“you always reach for it. when you’re talking or when we’re kissing. figured i’d get you your own since you’re such a big fan.”

“you are so…”

“perfect? sexy? the father of your children?”

“i was thinking adorable. can i answer d for all of the above?” you respond.

sukuna grins.

“survey says yes, princess.” he responds.

you yank the chain from the little box and hand it to him, before turning around for him to secure it on you. his fingers tickle against the nape of your neck, accompanied by a warm kiss, before he taps your shoulders to signify that he’s done.

“you know. you really are perceiving me right now.” you respond.

“and how’s that?”

“i know you’re obsessed with me and pay attention to every word i say.”

sukuna smiles.

“obviously.”

you jab at his side.

“i mean, i know you’re doing this because i mentioned picnics yesterday and always feeling left out. sure you could put two and two together that he never really bought me any nice gifts or anything when i said he ruined my birthday.”

“okay, captain obvious. and?”

you shove him once more, before leaning your head against his shoulder.

“well, i appreciate it. i know the whole…cutesy painting date isn’t your thing. we won’t have to do it again. and that you…you’re trying to make this whole thing special for me.”

sukuna scoffs.

“i’m offended. first and foremost, i always like to eat with you. every time i think that there’s no way you can amaze me more, you find another way to spill food on your clothes.”

“hey! that’s not true.”

“you already spilled on the blanket. second, this is a very violent way to eat cake. you literally mess up all the layers by doing that and destroy the piping on the cake which i can admit, i am a fan of. and third, i’m going to paint us as worms, which seems enjoyable to me.”

you curl your nose.

“worms?”

“yeah. what were you going to paint?”

“i don’t know. but it certainly wasn’t going to be worms. like the park or flowers or something.”

“boring. i’m going to paint us as slimy worms. and because we made it on this date, you’ll have to agree to put it up in the apartment, even if it’s ugly.”

“sukuna.” you whine.

“especially if it’s ugly. it’s a testament to our love.” he responds, dramatically placing his hands on his chest.

“you know, you’re so right. worms have been a really defining feature of your relationship.”

sukuna leans forward and presses a quick kiss to your lips and an additional one on your cheek.

“you just get me, princess!”

and he breaks the little joke by lifting one of your hands to his lips, and pressing a kiss on all four of your knuckles before pressing your hand to his cheek.

“and i have to do special things for a special person.”

you return the gesture, lifting his tattooed fingers to your lips and doing the same.

“you know…you’re really good at this type of thing.” you murmur.

“what do you mean?”

“i mean, being a boyfriend. and…and being supportive about everything. sometimes i feel like i’m trying really hard to be the best but…just comes naturally to you.” you respond.

sukuna shrugs.

“don’t know if i’m perfect but…loving you has always come really easy to me. i don’t really have to think twice about it because these are actually just things i want to do for you.”

you groan.

“see! that’s what i’m saying! you always just…say sweet things, do sweet things. sometimes i’m convinced i’m not even half deserving of it, just because sometimes i don’t reciprocate that back.” you respond.

sukuna leans forward.

“you know, you actually do though.”

“as if.” you groan.

sukuna pauses, before leaning his cheek against the tops of his knees and looking out at the expanse of grass in front of you. you follow his line of vision – to the dog running in the distance, the wide, billowing trees, and the little flower truck on the side – which you now realize is where sukuna copped the flowers from earlier.

“i mean, this type of thing. that we have, or…or the way i act around you. it means a lot to you because, you…you’ve never had this before. right?”

“yeah.”

“well, i haven’t had you before. i know you see me as perfect, but…but when you say that i can tell that you don’t mean it the way my mom or…or yuuji think that i’m perfect. in the untouchable way.”

you lean forward, cupping the side of his face.

“sukuna. you’re so touchable.” you joke.

“you’re disgusting.”

“you love it.”

sukuna smiles.

“yeah, i really do. it does actually mean the world to me that you think i’m perfect how i am and don’t think i’m larger than life.”

“if anything, your ego could be smaller.”

sukuna leans forward and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“and…and even the other day. i know you were acting squirrely and weird when yuuji was near us and heard us bickering, but i was half convinced that you were going to take his side at the end, when he started saying that stuff about me. because it is true and i have acted a certain way in the past…and, you would have every right to agree with him if you wanted to.”

you frown.

“no, i wouldn’t. you’ve never treated me like that and i know you’re being earnest when you say these things to me. this would be a very elaborate way to get into my pants if that was what you were trying to do. and i know it’s not.”

sukuna smiles.

“that’s what i’m saying. every other person for me has never given me that benefit of the doubt, but you always do. you were the person who thought to tell me that my grandpa died when you all came to get me and you were the one who wasn’t mad at me. the things you do for me are the same, in equal magnitude, as what i do for you. if this makes you feel good, or…or on top of the world, you have to know that’s how you make me feel too. i’m half convinced that you’re basically made for me at this point the way you get everything right on point.”

you lean forward and press a lingering kiss to his lips.

“i really think you’re made for me too, ryomen.”

sukuna groans, dramatically leaning his head back, before nearly pushing you over and peppering kisses to almost every surface on your face.

“quit fucking saying my name. you have no idea what that does to me.”

“i mean, i think i have an idea.”

sukuna clamps his fingers over your mouth, before pressing a few more lingering kisses to your face and pushing off. and subsequently, picks all of the grass out of your hair as you roll your eyes.

and after that sukuna, admittedly, very aggressively uses the wine glasses to portion off little slices of the cake and makes it a point to finish off yours when you can’t stomach the sweetness. and true to his promise – sukuna paints the two of you as worms, but at the park, stargazing.

it’s a little silly, the way he paints it. you were expecting it to be more gory or gross, but it’s so corny that it makes you smile. because he draws the two little worms, but distinguishes between the two of you, by swiping some of your pink paint and adding a little ribbon to the one that’s supposed to be you.

sukuna explains the stars. because before sukuna had dragged you out of that shitty bathroom bar, it’s what megumi and yuuji said in his drunken mess – he had pointed at two little stars and likened them to him and megumi.

and you’re almost positive that at the time, sukuna found it utterly ridiculous. but now, he understood it – the sentiment. that you and sukuna were two little worms, and two stars, and two little flowers too.

and to his promise, the two of you decide to place the little canvases you drew at the end of the kitchen counter.

it’s only then that you realize that you have to go the whole ten miles for sukuna the way he had done for you – countless times again. and that if you were going in blind in trying to make something special, you’d have to take a page out of his book and do some research.

and there was only one person who could really help you, who you’d rather die than humble yourself to than ask for help.

regardless of that, you still call sammy the next morning.

next part linked here

an: they're about to do it. anyways....there is a very real playlist to match the one that they talk about in the fic -- and it matches the way it described in the fic! so it's interleaved, the first song is a song that sukuna would have added, the second one that y/n added, the third sukuna, so on and so forth. it's linked here! happy listening babies

second an: thank you for the love on the last chapter. it makes my heart really warm bc all of that was actually based on a REAL MAN and real things that I have felt/have said to me and just having people comment that they felt seen by it or it made them feel a certain type of way actually made me really happy and so warm. this blog was one of the first things I did after I stopped being really, really sad and i'm glad that i'm able to share a little joy here and there, if that's what this fic is for you. anyways this is long and sappy and gross and actually I just love you all for enduring the ouchies and the sillies with me a little bit 💌

third an: double upload bc yall were so patient with me :D

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @ghostreadersthings @charlie-xo @whoami-72 @heijihattorisgf @megu-meow @complexivelovely @multiplefandomthings @hoebuns @lzaj19 @glossygreene @ramluvr @sureconfused @najaemism @manduse @imhorn1help @gamergirl5125 @r0ckst4rjk @invisible-mori @isaacdaknight @wishmemel @gyros-cum-sock @suftsunshine @i0099 @cowgirlikets @haitanibros0007 @stuffeddeer @yoontaedotin @ec3lipsy @armani79 @awkwardaardvarkforever @kereseth @leave-rae-alone @ruruvia @princess-ackerman @jjkwritingss @lilkiwikiara @opchara @telepathicheartss @starriesworlds @raechu11 @exprimidordefresas @nxxrxm @aalloochaat @strangehuman101 @tzutology

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desertduality · 6 months

Text

HELLO soo I was inspired by @stiffyck and the most recent secret life episode to write some tcd angst set in secret life <33 Enjoy :D

Link to Ao3 if you prefer to read there

———----

Scar, despite all odds against him, does hold his own for a little while. Gem is after him, bloodthirsty and intent, for reasons that Scar doesn’t know. She traps his base, she shoots at him, stabs at him — and he survives it all, up until he doesn’t. There are four of them by then, and they hunt him down and pick him off. And he dies.

These games are fun, is the thing. They get together and they make silly little groups with playful rivalry’s and eventually someone wins. It’s fun. Scar has fun, usually.

None of them know about the world he came from. That lonely, ravaged, barren world. The zombies had been everywhere, fast and stubborn. Scar had been young and hurt and alone, and had learned to run on broken legs before he learned how to read.

It’s been a long time ago, now. The memories sneak up on him far less often than they used to, and he’s better. This though, this thing with Gem and the others, it’s hitting him in places that still hurt; places that will always hurt.

Scar is fresh off his first death, still reeling from being hunted down, and Cleo and Grian are telling him he can’t stay.

“You’re not one of us,” Grian says, and they’re just playing a game, but Scar is confused. He’d been invited, hadn’t he? But then Cleo had taken it back.

“Scar!” Bdubs is a distance behind him, sitting atop a horse and calling his name urgently. “Scar, we need to talk to you.”

Scar goes, and hears whispering behind him, something about zombies and spreading. It makes a bit of nerves flare up in his stomach, but he ignores them. He is far enough removed from the past that hearing the word won’t send him into hysterics. He’s even recovered enough that he can handle the sight of a few zombies, even if his heart rate elevates until they’re gone. He’s better, he is.

Bdubs takes him back to the others, and they explain to him what’s been going on. It’s Gem’s task to spread the Boogeyman curse, one by one, to everyone. He suddenly feels a little bad for trying to burn the book earlier, because this sounds like a good time. Causing some chaos, killing some people, making each other laugh — it's what they’re all here for. It’s why they play the game.

(There’s a small but persistent inkling of unease living behind his rib cage at the fact that they’re comparing themselves to zombies, to an apocalypse, but he ignores it. It’s not important enough to mention it, and he doesn’t want to ruin everyone’s fun.)

They get Etho, and Gem praises him for it, and Scar tries not to compare the fortress the others are defending to the bunkers he used to raid. His brain still makes the connection, as much as he wishes it didn’t. The memories trickle in slowly, making him more and more on edge as the day goes on. It will be over soon, Scar tells himself. Then he can rest, and go back to being better.

Joel has a zombie spawner to farm XP. Scar has used it, has been inside it. He’d been expecting zombies, then. He doesn’t expect it when Joel throws down sixty-four zombie eggs in a row.

The thin and fraying thread tying him together snaps.

Everyone is screaming and yelling, running, chasing after Joel. There are zombies as far as he can see, in groups and alone, groaning and gurgling into the night. It fills his ears, wraps itself around his mind like a vice, catapults him back to when he was just a kid, fighting the world with his teeth bared and no one at his back.

Everything goes fuzzy and distant, the noises muffled beneath his heartbeat and heaving breaths echoing endlessly in his ears. He slows to a stop, chest heaving and eyes wide, skin going cold and numb with terror. Nothing makes sense. Everything is wrong.

There’s something in his hand, and he looks at it, panicked tears prickling at his eyes. He’s holding a sword, and an anguished, confused noise rips itself from his throat. Where’s his gun? Guns are better, guns are safer; guns mean he doesn’t have to get close.

The moaning of the undead is growing louder, they’re coming for him, and he stumbles forward with gasping breaths, eyes flitting around wildly as he searches for a place to hide. The ground is filled with craters, zombies in every direction, and he blinks desperately to clear his blurry vision, pushing forward with all the desperate agony of a man living on borrowed time.

He thinks he hears someone call his name, but it can’t be real, it’s just a memory, it’s just his stupid, persistent hope manifesting itself at the worst possible time. He has to get back to his base, his bunker, but nothing looks familiar, no direction looks like the correct way to go—

He runs anyway, passing by a giant stone statue and weaving around holes in the ground and slashing blindly at anything that looks like it’s moving. He spots a tower in the distance, oddly shaped and oddly colored, but a structure nonetheless, and he runs for it. The zombies are here and they never left and he never left and he runs.

He only makes it halfway.

There’s a zombie in one of the craters, and Scar doesn’t see it, is too wrapped up in his tunnel vision, and it grabs at his ankle as he walks by. He hits the ground, hard, his knee hitting first before everything else. He hears a sharp crack, and knows it’s broken.

He twists his head around wildly, tearing his leg out of the zombies cold grip with a yell of pain, dragging himself out of reach just in time for others to bear down on him. His vision becomes a swirling kaleidoscope of hands and teeth, of skin and claws, and he opens his mouth and screams.

(He won’t know until later, but everyone near spawn hears it. Everyone hears it, and freezes, and turns to look. It sounds like pure terror, like the final cry of a dying man. None of them will ever forget it.)

He swings his sword wildly, slashing and scrambling to get away, but his knee hurts and they’re pushing him down, he can’t get up—

He hears yelling, distantly, but that still can’t be right, no one else is here, no one else can save him—

Scar rolls to the side, and falls into one of the craters, dirt and pebbles sprinkling down on top of him when he hits the ground with a dull thud. He shouts through clenched teeth as the landing jostles his leg, but still pushes himself up and back until his back hits the solid side of the hole. Grass and dirt is still clinging above him, forming somewhat of an overhang. They can’t attack from directly above. Scar grips his sword in violently shaking hands and waits for the hoards to find him.

He still hears the voices, but he shouldn’t be hearing voices, he’s alone here, he hasn’t heard a human voice not his own since he was six, and he closes his eyes tightly for a few seconds, willing himself back to reality. Something drops to the ground in front of him, and Scars eyes wrench themselves back open, landing on the shadowed figure of a person coming his way. He has both hands on his sword, and he points it at the approaching zombie.

It speaks. It says his name.

“Scar,” the figure says, a deep, frantic concern in their voice. “Are you— What happened? Are you okay?”

The cloud that had been blocking the moon slowly drifts away, and Scar gets a good look at the figure — the person — in front of him. He’s human, he’s alive, and Scar knows him, he knows who it is, but he can’t be here, he’s not supposed to be here. This is the world where Scar is young and alone. No one else belongs here.

The past and the present collide angrily in his head; he doesn’t know what’s real. He doesn’t even know this person's name. The person is crouching a few feet away, empty hands extended imploringly, worry plain in his eyes. Scar’s eyes catch on his shirt, black with gold accents, and can’t help but think that something’s missing. A letter, he thinks, but can’t quite remember which one.

It doesn’t matter. He’s not really here.

He must’ve said some of that out loud, because the man’s face drops, something heartbroken pinching at his eyes. Scar feels bad, and doesn’t know why.

“I’m here, Scar,” says the man, voice trembling. “I’m real. You’re okay.”

The man is a liar. Scar shakes his head, a trembling exhale shaking his tense frame. The sword remains steady.

“No,” Scar says, voice strained and breaking. “No, you— you can’t be. Not here.”

“Scar—“

“Stop saying my name,” Scar begs. “I don’t know— I don’t know who you are.”

It’s only half true. He recognizes him, knows he’s a friend, but his brain is rebelling against the very thought that he could exist in a place like this. In the place Scar grew up. No. Everyone was either dead or undead, here. Everyone but Scar. This person with sad eyes and gentle hands does not belong.

“Impulse!” Another voice is calling down at them, and Scar looks up, catching a glimpse of bright orange curls and mismatched eyes. Nothing makes sense. “Is he okay?”

The man — Impulse — looks at him, and then looks up. He can still hear the zombies, everywhere and far too many.

“Get Grian,” Impulse says, and the person above them freezes for just a moment, and then disappears.

Grian, Scar thinks. Another name he knows. Another name that doesn’t make sense to be hearing in a world like this. His mind scrambles, his eyes sting, the zombies groan and shriek above him. Nothing makes sense.

Grian will, some distant and muted part of him says.

Grian will.

—————————

Grian is on top of their cobblestone tower — laughing at the sheer amount of zombies and chaos in the distance — when Gem comes tearing up the slope at high speeds, something frantic and determined in her eyes.

“No zombies allowed!” Grian calls down, grinning, though it dims when she looks up at him. There is something serious and desperate about her gaze.

“Grian!” She slides to a stop at the base of their castle, face dotted with sweat and panic. “You need to come with me, something—“

“You’re just going to kill me,” Grian says, confused and faltering. “Why would I—“

“It’s Scar,” Gem interrupts, a harsh concern clipping her words. “He’s— Something’s wrong with him, a zombie got him and he screamed.”

Grian tilts his head. “Scar screams all the time.”

“Not like this,” Gem says, sounding genuinely shaken. “Not like this, Grian, please.”

She doesn’t even have her sword out, standing at the base of their fortress with wild eyes and a desperate plea. Something’s wrong with Scar. Something bad enough that everything else has gone out the window. Gem’s not here asking him to play the game. She’s here begging him to pause it.

“Okay,” Grian says, a new bubble of panic growing in his chest. “I’m coming, let’s go.”

Gem nods at him when he emerges from the tower, and then she takes off running, leaving Grian with nothing to do but follow. It seems to take forever to get there, weaving around hoards of zombies and craters left over from the wither attack. The other server members are mowing through the hoards with swords and axes, and what seems to be extreme prejudice. They all look a bit shaken. The coil of nervous worry in Grian’s rib cage grows.

Gem stops them at a random crater, and nods. “Down there,” she says, and then throws herself back into the fray, cutting through any undead limbs that reach for her. The surface is a battlefield.

Grian drops down, and Impulse turns to look at him, grim concern pressing his lips thin. He looks relieved when he sees him, and Grian looks behind him and realizes why.

Scar is there, hunched against the wall and shaking like a leaf, sword held in trembling hands and fearful eyes flickering between them. Grian’s stomach drops, and he inhales shakily. Scar looks lost, and so very, very afraid. He’s never seen him like this.

“It’s the zombies,” Impulse says, quietly. “They set him off somehow, I— He barely recognizes me.”

Grian remembers, distantly, Double Life. Scar had fallen into a pit of zombies, and they had both died that day. He hadn’t quite understood why their shared heart had been beating so fast for so long after; he never knew the reason for Scar’s shell-shocked eyes above his trembling smile when they met back up. He still doesn’t know why, but now he knows for sure. Scar is afraid of zombies.

“Get rid of them,” Grian says, equally hushed, even though everyone has already started. Impulse just nods, one hand on his sword, and climbs out of the crater. Grian turns to Scar.

“Scar,” Grian starts, voice carefully relaxed. “You’re safe, okay? We’re getting rid of them.”

Scar shakes his head, moonlight catching on the tear tracks on his face, and Grian aches.

“You can’t be here,” Scar says, turning pleading eyes towards him. “You— You can’t be here.”

Grian gets a little closer, and crouches down, doing his best to appear non-threatening. “Why not, Scar?”

“It’s wrong,” Scar says, sounding all of ten years old, terrified and unsteady. “I’m supposed to be alone, you can’t be here.”

“Why are you supposed to be alone?”

“It’s just me, it’s always just me,” Scar insists, and then he inclines his head upwards, to where the zombies are still groaning. “Me and them.”

Grian swallows, feeling out of his depth and worried. The only reason Scar would have a reaction like this is if it had once been true. Once upon a time, it really had just been Scar and hoards of zombies. And in Scar’s mind, that’s where he was. He’d never left. Grian’s stomach rolled.

“We’re not there,” Grian says, still unsure where there was. “We’re in Secret Life, Scar. We’re playing a game.”

Scar shakes his head again, violently, and starts trying to stand up. A muffled whine escapes his throat when he puts weight on his knee, but still he stands. Grian wants to grab him and shake him and then wrap him up in several blankets.

“You’re hurt,” Grian says, a note of pleading in his voice, hands hovering, wanting to reach out. “You shouldn’t be walking, Scar.”

“I’ve walked on worse,” Scar says vacantly, and twists around to look behind him, making a noise of frustration. “My backpack, where’s my— I need—“

“Backpack?” Grian repeats.

“I need morphine,” Scar says, voice tight with pain and panic. “I need to get out of here. You need to get out of here. You can’t be here.”

Morphine. Scar’s plan is to numb the agony of a broken knee and run on it anyway. Scar says it like it’s normal, like there’s no other choice, like this is the only way. Maybe it was, once. Grian wants to scream and cry and pull the universe apart with his hands. Instead, he grabs Scar’s wrist in a gentle hold.

“I am here,” Grian says, soft but firmly still, and Scar freezes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Grian tugs at his wrist making Scar meet his eyes, trying to ground him. Scar blinks at him, hazy and distant, chest heaving. Grian reaches out slowly, and takes the sword from Scar’s hand.

“Do you remember,” Grian begins, “asking me to be your friend?”

Grian remembers. Scar, with grey skin and crimson eyes, hiding a sheepish grin behind a bouquet of poppies and lilacs. Something like recognition flickers across Scar’s face, and Grian keeps going.

“We had a llama called Pizza.”

“I blew you up on accident.”

“The moon was falling and you built a rocket upside down.”

“You were my soulmate, of course it was you—“

“You made fun of our bread bridge.”

“You were actually a pretty good mayor, you know.”

Grian lays their memories out between them, holding Scar’s wrist gently in his hands, and doesn’t stop until Scar looks at him and finally seems to see him. His face crumples, awareness flooding his expression, and Grian lowers them both to the ground when Scar’s knees give out.

“I’m sorry,” Scar says, voice cracking, and he gives an awkward little laugh that makes Grian’s heart twist sharply. “That doesn’t— That hasn’t happened in a while.”

“It’s okay, Scar, don’t apologize,” Grian says, adjusting his grip to hold Scar’s hand loosely. “Do you feel better?”

“I feel like I ran a marathon,” Scar answers, exhaustion in his tone. “I don’t— Thank you. For bringing me back.”

“Of course.” Grian hesitates. “…Where did you go?”

Scar takes a shaky breath, eyes going tired and sad. Grian’s eyes catch on a scar peeking out beneath his collar.

“I was stuck in a hardcore world when I was a kid,” Scaf says eventually, resigned. “I was the only player in a zombie apocalypse. I had to… let myself die, to get out. But I spent years there.”

Grian stares, quietly horrified. He imagines Scar, so very young and so very alone, running on broken limbs and killing things that once were people every day, and still finding the willpower to survive for years and years. That Scar had grown up in a world without light and still come out of it with a personality bright enough to blind them all — it was nothing short of miraculous. Brilliant, mischievous, stubborn Scar, with enough skeletons in his closet for all of them and the uncanny ability to make them laugh until they were out of breath.

“You never said anything,” Grian says, careful to keep any accusation out of his voice. He understands. He still wishes he had known, somehow.

“It’s not fun to hear about,” Scar says, and stares at his broken knee. “And it’s…not easy to talk about, either.”

“I know,” Grian says, squeezing his hand. “But if you ever want to, I’m here. I don’t want— I don’t want this to happen again.”

The zombie sounds have died down, the others having done their damn best to kill them quickly. It’s quiet but for their breathing, slowly slowing down.

“I’m a lot better,” Scar says, brow furrowed. “That was just, a lot more than I was expecting.”

“It’s okay,” Grian says. “It’s… You don’t have to be better all the time.”

Scar glances at him, his mouth lifting just a bit, looking a little lighter. “Thanks.”

“And you can talk to us.” Grian smiles back. “We can help you when it’s hard.”

Scar lets out a long, slow breath, the shake in his hands finally down to something manageable. Grian is relieved for all of two seconds, and then something mischievous flickers in Scar’s eyes. Grian sighs, because he knows what’s coming—

“That’s what she said,” Scar says, quick and unapologetic, and Grian smacks his shoulder with his free hand. Scar laughs, and Grian just rolls his eyes and grins.

Yeah. He’ll be fine.

#hope u like it if u read it !!!#my writing #goodtimeswithscar #grian #the crafting dead #desert duo #gtws #secret life smp #actual post

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anim-ttrpgs · 3 months

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As of today, we are releasing the February 29th, 2024 version of the Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy full prerelease rulebook FOR FREE.

If you’re wondering what Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy even is, it’s going to Kickstarter starting April 10th, 2024, and, besides downloading the free version we are releasing today, the Kickstarter link is probably the best way to learn what you can expect from it.

As a thank-you to all of those who have supported us with follows, reblogs, likes, and word-of-mouth, we are replacing the cut-down free demo version of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy that has been available on our website with the full February 29th prerelease version of the rulebook. If you’ve only looked at the demo version, this is huge for you. Four months of constant additions, improvements, playtesting, polishing, and tweaking, plus access to all of the things that were redacted from the original demo version, including rules for handling explosives, advanced melee combat rules, and five fully playable man-eating monsters—and Eureka handles playing monstrous PCs in a way you’ve never seen before! This isn’t just +1 to strength and +2 extra damage taken from silver weapons, playing a monster in Eureka is a whole different experience from playing a mundane PC!

Download the free full prerelease version now from our website!

If you like it, consider giving us a tip on Ko-fi, or the pay-what-you-want version on itch.io! (At the time of writing this, the pay-what-you-want version is not actually set up yet, so your best bet is to get the free version from our website and give us a little donation on ko-fi.)

All subsequent updates to the prerelease version will continue to be exclusive to patreon subscribers; for only $5 you can get the regularly updated prerelease version of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy as well as many other in-progress projects such as adventure modules and literary works!

And don’t forget, Eureka is fundraising on Kickstarter starting on April 10th, 2024! We need your support there most of all, to make sure we hit our goals and can afford to make the best version of Eureka we can make!

Interested in branching out but can’t get your group to play anything but D&D5e? Join us at the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club, where we nominate, vote on, and play indie TTRPGs, all organized by our team with no strict schedule requirement! Here's the invite link! See you there!

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luckycharms1701 · 4 months

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Oh, please, I must know now… Donnie during mating season??? :D I’m loving ur writings about this :)

alright you thirsty purple fans, it’s time!

sidenote: i am. so glad. that people are enjoying these. they’re a lot of fun to write!

double sidenote: i have added a link to my masterpost to all my bayverse mating season headcanons! you can also find them here

sooooo donnie. he's a freak in the sheets, you cannot change my mind. so especially strong spicy warning for this one 🌶️

Donnie is extremely matter of fact about mating season. The first time he brings it up with you, he’s more nervous about your answer than he is shy about explaining what it entails. (You couldn’t hear the words, but you did hear him muttering to himself before he came up to ask you. You suspect it was a pep talk.) He is very thorough when explaining mating season in general and how it affects him in particular. You are grateful and also a little turned on by the time he’s done.

Before you were in the picture, Donnie used to work himself until his system overloaded and he passed out during this time. Now he finds himself working a lot less, because he has you to focus on. He appreciates that you make him spend more time on leisure and don’t let him overwork himself. He also appreciates that you do let him work at least a little when the desire hits. Getting to cuddle with you is a surefire way to get him to rest when he needs it though. As long as you’re nearby, he’s happy to do whatever.

Donnie is a talker in general, but it gets ramped up to 100 when it’s his season. Unless his mouth is busy doing… other things… it’s basically a 24/7 stream of consciousness fest. Mostly it’s about you. How much he loves you, what in particular he loves about you, how exactly he wants to make love to you. His morning star, his starlight, his celestial beauty. Sometimes, though, he’ll interrupt himself to talk about something that just occurred to him about one of his projects. It never fails to pull a laugh out of you and make him rub the back of his neck in (adorable) embarrassment.

He enjoys physical affection and often seeks it out from you, and this holds true during his season. He won’t whine or get grumpy if you don’t want to be touching him all the time (*cough* like his brothers will *cough*), but he does prefer if you’re in contact with him somehow. He enjoys watching movies with your head on his lap and your hand in his. He especially likes it when you're on top of him.

Donnie is used to just taking care of himself whenever necessary, AND he is used to handling delicate things during his season. So there is a lot of gentle manhandling when the time comes. You can't do anything particularly engaging because he will come up and interrupt you whenever to have sex. IF you are wearing clothes at all (not often), you cannot wear underwear or pants, at most a skirt. That way he can just lift it up and enter you whenever the urge hits. He is especially fond of doing this when you're sitting on his lap while he's working (... "daddy's little cockwarmer").

Having you around does not mean that all of his toys go unused, oh no. He is very considerate, and would rather resort to them when you're getting rest. (He got your permission to stare at you while you slept and he used his toys. So considerate.) He also came up with some new toys that the two of you can use together. Having toys custom designed for your pleasure? Well. It really adds to the experience of mating season.

He likes to take his time and study you. He is always coming to you with a new experience he wants to try. He does get a lot of pleasure out of trying new things, but he mostly just wants to know how you'll react. He is intimately familiar with your body and how it reacts, and he wants to see if those reactions hold true when different stimuli are applied. His prodigious brain is always working. He particularly likes when something catches you off guard and a surprised gasp comes out of your mouth.

Donnie is not overtly possessive, even in his season. But there is always one hickey very carefully placed somewhere noticeable that you can't cover easily. He knows just how much force to use to leave an imprint of his hands without hurting you more than you enjoy. And if he catches someone looking at you? You will probably be walking a little funny the next day. When he ties you up (he enjoys tying you up. a lot.), he'll take a minute to sit back and observe you, pleasuring himself to thoughts of how you belong to him the same way he belongs to you.

When his season is over, his favorite thing to do is cuddle with you while the both of you sleep it off. He won't leave the bed, not even to work, until he deems you fully rested. (He will work in bed while you sleep on his plastron though.) His second favorite thing to do is bathe you. He takes his time to make sure every inch of you is clean and cared for. It's a lot like going to a spa, because Donnie did a lot of research into spas so that he could replicate that experience for you. And if you give him a little pampering in return? You'll get to hear him chirp and churr in complete satisfaction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

head bonks: @yorshie @avery73 @justalotoffanfiction @thejudiciousneurotic

#bayverse donnie #bayverse donnie x reader #tmnt #talking tag #theory tag #mating season #*blows kiss to all the donnie fans out there*#couldn't be me #i definitely haven't spent the past three days thinking about his thighs. and his biceps. and his teeth. his tongue...#ANYWAY #special shoutout to yorshie's 'donnie's working music' playlist for making this a lot easier to write than it would have been otherwise lol #i really hope this was worth the wait i uh struggled a bit to focus on him and keep him in my head. the mikey brainrot is Really Strong #mr. fearless leader angsty boy is next that'll be fun

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ghostboybrainrot · 1 year

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DPxDC Ghost Zone Amity AU Part 2

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 AO3

Edit: I finally got around to adding this to AO3, link above.

Wow! I am completely blown away by the reaction the first part! It’s the first fic idea I ever posted. Thank you so much for all the likes and messages. I have a lot of ideas for this AU but I‘m new to writing so please be patient. I also would love to hear anyone’s ideas.

--------

Batman wanted to see the portal himself. Because of course he did. Nosy idiot couldn't let them handle it. And John Constantine just knew the bat was gonna make things harder on him.

"Can you disable it?" Gotham's knight asked.

"Of course not! This is some sci-fi bullshit and I don't do sci-fi. I do Magic, thank you very much.”

"You said you could sense death coming from it."

Constantine ran his hand through his hair, frustrated.

"Yeah but that doesn't mean I know how! This shouldn't be possible. And it radiates Death, capital D. This isn't just a device that has been exposed to death. It's owned by the Dead.

A grunt was all Constantine got as a reply, as the knight continued to examine the machine.

"Do you know where it goes?"

"To the DEAD! Haven't you been listening?! You know the Underworld? Hereafter? Netherworld? Hell with two L's? Hel with one L? Purgatory? Pandemonium? Hades? Tartarus? Any of these ringing a bell?"

Batman does not dignify the outburst with a response but he turns toward Constantine for the first time since they entered the building, narrowing his eyes.

"Which one?"

Constantine waved his hands noncommittally, "Eh, could be any of them. Could be ALL of them. They aren't completely separate. Like different branches of the same company. Different regional managers but all equally shitty.

Batman grunts again, turning back to the swirling mass. After a moment, he starts to fiddle with something on his belt. Constantine couldn't see what he was doing but he already didn't like it. Every time the bat investigated something that Constantine thought was better off left alone, his day would inevitably get MUCH worse. For the millionth time, he wonders why he bothers to associate with these idiots.

Batman pulls what he was messing with from beneath his cloak. His grapple gun? Constantine took several steps back. Nope. Nope, he definitely isn't gonna like this.

Instead of firing the gun, Batman slowly pulled at the hook loosening the wire until he had roughly 10 ft of it coiled in his hand. Then without any hesitation, he approached the swirling green, tossing the hook inside. It promptly disappeared, quietly, as though it had simply sunk into murky water.

They both waited. No sound could be heard except the ambient buzzing of electronics coming from the large machine. Batman stood a few feet from the portal, watching the line intensely. He had braced himself as though he expected the line to snap taut at any moment and pull him in. After roughly a minute and no such thing happened, Batman slowly reeled in the line feeding it back into the gun.

The hook came into view, no worse for wear. None of the green substance lingered on it. After briefly examining it, Batman clipped it back to his belt. Constantine was slightly disappointed that it hadn't come back ablaze or melting, only because it would help him narrow it down. Having it come back unscathed didn't really tell him where it led. Then again the fact that it wasn’t instantly destroyed from coming in contact with the portal was probably a good thing.

"I think you gotta put worms on the end if you wanna catch something Bats." Constantine joked. He knew the man wouldn't react but couldn't help it.

To his surprise, John heard a chuckle from directly behind him. It startled him but he did his best to not show it. He knew who it was and didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

Boston Brand, Deadman, slowly floated into view in front of the magician. He was watching Batman but directed his comment toward John.

"I was expecting the Bat to get dragged in! A little disappointed if I'm bein' honest." Deadman laughed.

"I'd be lying if I didn't feel somewhat similar. When'd you get in?"

"Not too long ago," the ghost said conversationally, "I did a quick lap around the crater. Phew! That thing is huge!"

"No kidding? I hadn't noticed." The magician snarked, pulling a cigarette out and placing it between his lips. He wouldn't light up in here. He wouldn't want to piss off the Bat but the familiar feel on his lips brought him a small amount of comfort.

Batman seemed to have noticed Constantine's one sided conversation. He turned to stare at the occultist, his eyes narrowing again.

"Boston?"

"Who else?" Constantine grumbled.

Suddenly, without warning, he felt a cold wave rush over him as the ghost phased into his body. He felt his mouth open, his cigarette fell to the ground, and a voice that wasn't quite his own spoke.

"Hiya Batman! Long time no see! I heard you guys could use a little help?" John's face grinned without his approval. The voice coming from John had a Brooklyn accent and was entirely too cheerful for his liking.

Batman nodded, unsurprised by the English man’s sudden accent and demeanor change. He gestured over his shoulder toward the machine.

"What can you tell me about this device?"

"Umm..." John's legs brought him a little closer and his hand came up to his chin as though he was thinking hard. "I mean it's definitely spooky, I get kindof a weird vibe from it but other than that. Meh." He shrugged. "Not really my area, Bats."

"Does it seem dangerous?"

"Honestly? I don't think so. Like Constantine said it definitely radiates Death but not like in like in a scary way. Hard to describe. Feels kinda like a nap after a long day, ya know?"

Batman didn't respond. There was a good chance he didn’t know. Constantine had never know the man to take a break. Did he even know what a nap was?

"Would you be willing to investigate?"

"Ya mean like go in? I suppose. Not like I'm getting any deader. Ha!"

As quickly as it appeared, the cold sensation that gripped him vanished and John Constantine's body was his own again.

"Bloody ghost! You made me drop my cig." He bent down to retrieve the cigarette, brushed it off, and put it back in his mouth. John hated when Deadman did that. Which was probably the reason he did it. He could have just asked John to translate. Or better yet ask him to magic Batman's eyes so he could see the ghost! But Boston loved to see John frazzled. As annoying as it was to be on the receiving end, John couldn’t begrudge the ghost his fun. He knew how lonely it could be being dead in the land of the living. No one even knowing he was there. Constantine may not be dead but he’d been around it enough to know how isolating it could be.

"Sorry John!" The ghost called back goodnaturedly, already heading toward the portal. "Wish me luck!"

The ghost flew through the portal and the room was quiet once again. Batman couldn't see the ghost had disappeared but he followed John's gaze toward the machine and waited. Accurately guessing he had already passed through.

After a short moment, Constantine wondered if he had enough time to go outside for a quick smoke. But before he could decide, Deadman's head poked back through the swirl of green. The rest of him followed close behind, looking exactly the same as when he left.

"Well?" John asked impatiently.

"Seems safe enough. It leads to another portal on the other side. No monsters or anything."

Batman spoke up, "What's he saying?"

Constantine, taking a page out of Batman's book, ignored the knight continuing to address the ghost. "And? Where does it come out?"

"That's the weird thing. I think it's just a garage."

-------

That’s all I have for now! Let me know how i did and what you think should happen next.

I have a lot of ideas on what happens to GZ Amity, and coincidentally humanity as a whole, as a result of it getting stuck. I like to think that over time this creates a whole subspecies of liminal humans and GZ Amity ends up giving a solar(ecto?) punk vibe.

Jack and Maddie are LOVING living in the ghost zone. After the initial shock, and a short adjustment period, they throw themselves into their research just as hard as before but instead of focusing on weapons they focus on researching the properties of the ghost zone. They use what they learn to better the lives of the residents of the town.

Amity Parkers don’t leave when they die. Old Evelyn Baker is still there like 300 years in the future. And because no one leaves, the town expands.

Blob ghosts wander around the city like stray cats. People treat them like pets. The Fentons create a blob collar especially for ecto-pets that is designed to stay on despite their semi-intangible nature. Using that design they are able to make equipment that will automatically phase WITH the user without having to dedicate extra energy to it.

I like the idea of Vlad coming around eventually. I think it would be funny for liminal!Amity Parkers gaining a resistance to overshadowing. And because Amity isn’t really part of the US anymore, his vast wealth doesn’t really do him any good. So here he is sad and alone. All his plans have failed and his power is rendered almost entirely useless. He can still overshadow people in the living world and the US is still a capitalist hellscape so his money is good there. But without any sort of end goal it loses its appeal. Eventually, he’ll come crawling back to Amity.

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Tags:

@seraphinedemort @bookreaderman @ronocnogard19 @apointlessbox @d4ydr34min9 @fylylowo @takingspagetts @vythika96 @catmaraudersfan @coruscateselene @gin2212 @running-batty @amercurio @victoria-has-no-secret @clarinetily @imsociallyanxiousgetoverit @ironicvixen @toomanyartsuppliesnotenoughtime @thewondersoflebanon @booklover4177 @malice-of-the-sunrise @thegatorsgoose @theamazingfox @xye-chan @farmercale @dontfightmecauseillcry @alcorbearson

#dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #dc x dp #GZ Amity Park #Weird Amity Park #Danny Phantom #Batman #constantine #deadman #Boston Brand #justice league #amity park #liminal amity park #my fics

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