#*shoves all my wips under the bed* nothing to see here :)

[bbyquokka]

1:16 pm (hhj)

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | hwang hyunjin x gender neutral reader

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 | timestamp, smut – 18+ is strongly advised!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | established relationship, dirty thoughts, consensual distribution of sexual pics/videos, sex toys, little bit of nipple play

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 | 0.8k ~ (896)

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 | this won in the poll i did a few days ago! i hope you all enjoy! don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. curious as to what is next? here is my wips list! i hope you all enjoy! ‹3

♡ m.list — ♡ you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

he's bored. the meeting he is currently stuck in is boring. his eyes keep drooping, threatening to close whilst the tall coffee he got from the coffee shop is failing to do its job and keep him awake.

he's been cranky since the moment he woke up at five am. hyunjin wanted nothing more than to stay in bed with the person he loves, maybe even make love to you when you woke up.

either way, everything is irritating him, no matter how small or big it seems. his collar on his white shirt feels too tight around his neck. his blazer feels that it's constricting him. his suit pants feeling more and more uncomfortable as time goes on. 

he glances at his silver watch that sits on his wrist, groaning at the fact that he has 4 more hours of his superior telling him the same old stuff that he already knows. he knows the company needs to up their sales. he knows the company had a rough month last month. he knows because he looks at the numbers and puts it all together. because he was the one that made the superiors aware of how shit the company has been doing lately.

hyunjin's mind drifts to you. it drifts to this morning where he had to leave you. it drifts to how beautiful and ethereal you looked. your face all cute and smushed together. the duvet covering your body but somehow outlining your curves. the soft snores and whimpers of his name. the way you'd roll over into a more comfortable position and just flop on your back.

he wanted to ruin you. pepper your skin in kisses and bruises. caress your skin and your curves and listen to your sweet and beautiful moans in the form of his name whilst he watches your mind slowly cloud over and fill with nothing but thoughts of him.

fuck, hyunjin wishes he didn't have to attend this stupid meeting. 

as he listens to his superior drone on and on about useless information, he feels his phone vibrate. he frowns and pulls it out of his pocket, keeping it under the desk.

a message from you. he thought it was just a simple “good morning” message but as he opens it up, his eyes widen and throat becomes dry.

you sent him a video. a video of you bouncing on your clear suction dildo. you have your back to the camera so hyunjin can see everything so perfectly. the way the dildo disappears and reappears. the way your ass ripples with each bounce. how you lean forward slightly to give hyunjin that perfect view. unfortunately, his phone is on silent so he can't hear you but he can use his imagination.

he swallows thickly, eyes glued to the screen. his body heats up as tingles shoot all over his body and lay dormant in the pit of his stomach. hyunjin shuffles in his seat slightly, readjusting himself and crossing his legs to hide the growing erection 

hyunjin [7:30]: well, good morning to me i guess 🤤

yn [7:30]: good morning, hyun! 😇

hyunjin [7:31]: my love. you can't be sending me stuff like that. im still in a meeting! 

yn [7:31]: aw :( did you not like it?

hyunjin [7:32]: quite the opposite darling. i fucking loved it which is a problem when i'm at work 🫣

yn [7:34]: great! then you wouldn't mind if i sent you more stuff 😇😚

hyunjin audibly groans which causes heads to turn. he looks up, clears his throat and shoves his phone in his pocket.

“apologies. just family stuff.” the superior gives hyunjin a disgruntled grunt before continuing on with the meeting. hyunjin rolls his eyes, his mind now wondering back to the video you sent him and the possibilities of what's to come.

his mind wanders into a daydream. it wanders back to the video you sent him and how he wishes he was behind you, a handful of your hair and his cock replacing the dildo. how he wishes he could hear your screams and pleads for more. to see your body shake with intense pleasure and glisten with sweat. to see your knees bruise from the hardwood floor.

the more he thinks, the more he throbs. he adjusts and shifts in his seat for the nth time in a row. his hand grips and pinches his thigh as an attempt to calm himself down. he feels hot and wants nothing more than to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt (maybe use said tie to bound your hands behind your back whilst he fucks you)

his phone buzzes in his pocket several times. he takes it out and unlocks it, revealing the treats you’ve sent him.

pictures and videos of you naked and in lewd positions. driving the dildo in and out of your hole, teasing your nipples and looking so perfect; too perfect for hyunjin's liking. 

hyunjin [8:49]: you're a menace..

yn [8:50]: please come home. i need you 🥺

“fuck.” he mumbles before stowing his phone back in his pocket and standing up.

“i'm terribly sorry but i have to leave. family emergency.”

and with that, hyunjin leaves the meeting room in a rush. his only goal is to get to you – even if it means getting an earful from the boss tomorrow.

#kwritersworldnet #wkcnet #straykidsland #skz smut #stray kids smut #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin x you #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x you #hwang hyunjin x reader #skz x you #skz x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #skz timestamps #skz oneshots #skz scenarios

[sylveon-official]

more huskerdust mpreg wip

Part 1 here!

“Princess, we have a fuckin’ problem,” Angel whispers heatedly, voice shaking as he guides Charlie into his room and shuts the door.

“Oh no, Angel, what’s wrong? What can I do to help?”

Angel cuts to the chase, shoving the photographs into her hands. Charlie stares down at the images quizzically, then cocks her head to the side as she looks up at Angel Dust with clear confusion written on her features.

“Angel, are these ultrasound pictures? Why—”

“Because it’s mine, Charlie,” Angel hisses, then points accusingly at his slightly distended middle. 

Charlie blinks once, twice, then furrows her brow together. 

“No, no, no, no, that can’t be right. Sinner demons can’t get pregnant. Who is telling you that, Angel?” Charlie asks, concerned. “Is it Val? Is he… is this his idea of a prank? Because if it is, I will march right over to that studio and give him a piece of my mind—”

“No! Val’s not smart enough to pull something like that, I went to the doctor and — and I saw it, I fucking saw it with my own two eyes! I don’t understand it anymore than you do, but I thought, I donno’, Lucifer’s daughter’s gotta be more aversed in the way shit works around here and — augh!” Angel cries, tugging at his hair as he feels hot tears build up behind his eyes and his legs start to give out from under him.

Charlie gasps, diving forward to grab one of Angel’s arms and lead him to sit down on the bed. When he sits, the adrenaline he’d been functioning on dissipates all at once and the first couple of tears spill heavily down his cheeks. He buries is face in a set of his hands and heaves a wet sob.

“Oh, Angel…” Charlie immediately pulls his face into her chest and strokes his hair. Angel tries to respond, but all that comes out is more pathetic blubbering.

Charlie gives Angel the time to unload his tears, at least to the point where he can functionally speak again. Angel pulls himself out of her chest, swiping a hand over his wet eyes. 

“Val’s gonna fucking kill m—” Angel chokes on the word ‘me’, eyes instantly flicking down to that damn bump, and hates that his mind instantly replaces it with ‘us’. 

Charlie pauses where she’d been tracing gentle circles along Angel’s back. Angel looks up to see her eyes flash a dangerous red, horns threatening to escape from her forhead.

“It’s going to be okay,” Charlie says confidently, clasping Angel’s hands in hers. Angel gives her a skeptical look, and Charlie simply tightens her grip. “I’m going to call my dad. If anyone knows what’s going on it’d be him. Okay? I’ll be right back.”

Part 3 here!

me jus layin all my cards out lol this is all i got. just blurbs, i got some ideas cookin for a fic but nothing concrete yet so lmk if you got any ideasssss

#huskerdust #hazbin hotel #angel dust #hazbin angel dust #mpreg #writing #huskerdust mpreg i say as there is yet to be a husker in sight lol

[cowgurrrl]

Some way some how Joel and reader in lftl are able to take each other back to their homes from before. For closure and memories. They both are just two people who miss their babies. And now they get pictures and cards from their homes. Another little piece of Sarah and Jane to go back to jackson.

Hello do you have access to my wips I was literally working on this!! I wrote this more about reader going back to their last apartment because @hier--soir has an amazing fic about Joel going back to Texas and it's absolutely gorgeous <3 anyways, I hope you enjoy!! this made me CRYYYY

Never Grew Up With You

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author's note: Jesus Christ I haven't cried at a fic like this in a LONG time I'm genuinely exhausted

Summary: "To never see her face again is what grief is." — Euripides, translated by Anne Carson, Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides aka this ask [1.5k]

Warnings: talks of Jane, memories, oh it's so sad

It's eerie being back in that town. It's empty, but the remnants of Outbreak Day linger in the streets— decomposed bodies, crashed cars, craters where the bombs hit. You recognize bits and pieces. The downtown area which used light up with Christmas lights and smell like funnel cake during the winter months. The church where you lied on the application form so Jane could get into daycare. Your apartment building. You stop in front of it, Joel at your side, and look up at it. 

It looks smaller than you remember it like maybe you romanticized the shithole after so many years of living in a worse shithole. Only a few windows still have glass, and you catch faded curtains flapping in the abandoned apartments. "Mommy, look!" Jane had yelled that day so you could catch the jets flying over the building. You were standing in the same area you are now. Your heart clenches, and Joel seems to feel it at the same time.

"Are you sure bout this?" He asks, and you nod. "I'll be right here with you the whole time. We can leave whenever you want." You don't answer him. You just take a deep breath and start walking toward the stairs—bullet holes and rusty, dried blood line the path up to your third-floor apartment, but other than that everything is the same. There's even still a flyer on the bulletin board advertising an apartment-wide potluck set the week after Outbreak Day. Jane wanted to go. She said her friends were going and she wanted you to meet them. You said you'd think about it.

When you reach the top of the stairs, you find your apartment door still open and immediately regret not closing it. What if there's nothing left? What if it's been raided? What if it's all destroyed? You push yourself forward until you're over the threshold and back into the life you left behind. The body of the runner who burst into your apartment that night is still there, grey and all but dust at this point. Dirty plates sit in the sink. Jane's kindergarten homework has slid off the table and onto the floor, her scribbly handwriting boring holes into you. You pick it up despite it having boot marks and ripped edges and stare down at how she wrote her name. Joel doesn't say anything, but he squeezes your shoulder and lets you know he's there.

Together, you silently move through the rooms and salvage whatever you find. In your room, you find ratty old clothes from 2003, medical textbooks, and a file full of important documents shoved under your bed. Among the papers are your tax forms, a copy of your college diploma, and Jane's birth certificate— the only physical proof that she was ever here. Jane Eloise born April 7th, 1998, to you and no one else. Somehow, the glaring absence of Matt's name on her birth certificate still makes your stomach turn. You find a few more keepsakes before moving to the living room.

Whatever might've been there has been taken or destroyed by whoever's been in the building in the last twenty years. The blankets and pillows that once lived on your couch are gone. Your TV has been smashed in. The shoes Jane always left in the middle of the floor have disappeared, probably taken by some other parent who was desperate and was too scared to think of the child who left them. You're about to walk down the hallway to the bathroom and Jane's room when something crunches under your foot. You look down, and all the air gets punched out of your chest. As gently as possible, you bend down to pick up the shattered picture frame and stare at it. 

It was a picture taken by a friend at the county fair. Jane is on your right with a half-eaten blue cotton candy in her hand and a water bottle tucked under her arm. Her hair is in a braid, and there's a big blue stain on her Princess Ariel shirt, but she looks happy. You're both smiling big, the reflection of the colorful carnival lights shining in your identical eyes. Everyone always said she looked like Matt, but you can clearly see your features reflected back to you in this picture. God, how could you have forgotten about the way her eyes crinkled when she was happy? Or how she leaned into you in public? Or how young you both were?

"What's that?" Joel asks as he walks over to you, and you meet him halfway to show him the picture, unwilling to hand it over just yet. It takes him a minute to realize what he's looking at, but when he does, he looks up to catch you staring at the picture. "'S that Jane?"

"Mhm,"

"She's beautiful," he says, and you smile. "Is that cotton candy?"

"Yeah, it was her favorite. Practically begged me to buy it for her. I'm pretty sure I overdrafted my bank account just to get it."

"How old are you in this photo?" He asks, and you furrow your brows as you think. 

"Uh, Jane looks about three or four, so I was, at least, nineteen."

"You look happy."

"And tired," you say. Both things are true, but you can't ignore the bags under your eyes or your horribly fitting clothes. You were struggling. You were alone. You were so incredibly ill-equipped and felt the weight of the world on your shoulders. And Jane... Jane is none the wiser. She's smiling. She's fed. She's loved. She's happy. Maybe you were doing a better job than you thought you were. "You know she wanted to go on the Ferris wheel?" You ask, and Joel raises his eyebrows.

"That little?" He asks, and you laugh, nodding.

"I said the same thing, but she was so determined. So, my friend got us tickets to go on it, and we went, just the two of us. But when we started going around, she started getting really scared about the height and how fast it was going. She buried her head in my arm almost the whole time, and I was stressed that she was miserable and we had wasted my friend's money, and I was so fucking tired," you say. "But when we stopped at the top, I told her to look at the sky, and she did. I pointed at the different stars and talked to her about the moon, and she calmed down. I don't know if I distracted her or if she realized how big the sky was in comparison, but when we got down, all she could talk about was how close she got to the moon. After that, we'd go out every night and look at the stars. Even snuck out of our QZ shelter after the Outbreak."

"D'you get caught?" 

"Once. I knew a FEDRA guy, and he let it go. We never got caught again." You haven't thought about Owen in years. You don't know if he's dead or alive. You don't even know if he remembers you. You're not sure if you want to know. 

You grab a few more things from her room: a teddy bear, a few shirts, and a picture of you and her on the day she was born. Being in her space again makes your head swim, and you want to stay here forever and leave as soon as possible, all at the same time. Eventually, after combing through every nook and cranny you still know, you do leave. You say a proper goodbye to the first home you shared with Jane and the memories you made there. You're silently grateful to the apartment for holding so many treasures you would've otherwise never gotten back. 

You don't know why, but you trace your steps back through one of your old routes. Joel is silent beside you and lets you lead, knowing you would never do anything to endanger him. You recount stories as you pass certain buildings or paths; he listens and asks questions about her and your shared life. Before you know it, you're on the same hill overlooking the QZ. The one where you hid with her when the Outbreak first happened. The one you sat down on and sobbed after Adam died because you had to pull yourself together before reentering. The one you buried her on. 

The tree holding her has gotten bigger, its limbs stretching to the sky and the leaves a brilliant green. Seeing it thrive makes you smile just a little before you pivot and start walking to where you know she is. The sight of a fresh bouquet on her spot stops you in your tracks and makes your breath catch. All these years, you worried she would go unremembered under that big oak tree. You worried she was alone and scared. You worried and worried and worried because that's what any good parent does. The yellow flowers protecting her prove your worries wrong. You take a deep breath and grab Joel's hand before walking over to her. 

"Hey bug," you start, fighting your tears, "This is Joel. He’s Sarah’s dad and he’s my… he’s my best friend." You squeeze Joel’s hand and take a shaky breath. "He takes care of me and I take care of him. So, you don’t have to worry about Mommy being lonely, okay? I’m gonna be just fine. You don’t have to be scared for me. I've got my people here just like you've got your people there. So, you just rest and I'll be okay." Now, you're really crying and there's no stopping it.

"I love you. I hope leaving didn't make you think otherwise, but I came back. I'll always come back because you're my baby. You'll always be my baby."

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha

#the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us x reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fic #joel tlou #joel miller angst #tlou angst #the last of us angst #joel miller x f!reader #look for the light #the last of us au #tlou au #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #joel the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller au #joel miller x female reader

[steddiealltheway]

WIP Wednesday

pretend this isn't the fourth thing i've posted in the past like... two hours

but this is so cool! Thank you @zerokrox-blog for tagging me!

So this is a Soulmate AU that has been in my head for YEARS, and I've finally started writing it down so... here's the first chapter or maybe only part of it? I'm not sure yet. But here it is :)

A few weeks earlier… 

Steve sprints to the window, unlatching it easily and jumping through just to tuck and roll onto the soft carpet of Robin’s bedroom. 

“What the-” Robin starts to yell until she catches sight of Steve who holds a finger to his lips. He signals for her to close the windows and curtains quickly while he lays on the ground wiping the rain water mixed with blood out of his eyes. 

Robin quietly freaks out as she locks the window and pulls the curtain tight. She flicks on a lamp then digs under her bed for a first aid kit that makes Steve want to squirm away, but he can’t deny the need for some type of treatment for his wounds. As she’s carefully putting bandaids on what he assumes to be a large cut on his forehead, she whispers out, “What the hell happened?” 

Steve breathes out and does a quick assessment of himself. Nothing appears to be broken at the moment, but his vision is slightly swimming as the adrenaline wears off. He lets his eyes close as he leans into Robin. “Turns out I’m going to college with you after all.” 

He doesn’t have to open his eyes to know that she’s giving him a weird look, but he opens them to let her know he’s serious about this. “Robin, promise to never call me ‘Steve’ again, okay?” 

Robin freezes and lets her hand fall from where it was smoothing out a bandaid. “What?” 

“Please,” Steve pleads and looks around frantically. “Call me… call me…” his head is pounding and his stomach slightly churns, so he relies on the last thing he saw, a name too unique to belong to any soul, “Call me Keys.” 

“Okay… Keys,” Robin says testing out the name as Steve’s eyes lull shut. “Now tell me everything.” 

Now 

Moving in sucks. Well, moving Robin in sucks. Steve had told her that she didn’t need to pack her entire room, but she insisted, “Keys, I will not be returning home after my first twenty-four hours away from it! And maybe I’ll need the whistle I got in elementary school! You never know.” 

Steve just sighs and hefts up yet another box from his car, carefully glancing around for anyone familiar before heading up to Robin’s dorm. He curses the broken elevator but realizes it likely wouldn’t have been much help since everyone else is moving in at the same time. He swerves just at the last second as some hyper dude with long hair runs down the stairs past him and Robin. For some reason, he feels a weird draw to them, but they probably just remind him of Dustin who he would’ve yelled at to slow the hell down. He misses that kid. 

Steve huffs as he makes his way to the third story of the building and spots the door to Robin’s room slightly ajar. Robin shoots him a look and they rush over to it only to slow down as they approach. Steve sets down the box and riffles through it settling on grabbing a random plaque from... “Your fourth-grade spelling bee, really?” 

“It’s one of my greatest accomplishments!” Robin whisper yells at him and nudges his shoulder. 

Steve rolls his eyes but takes the plaque and holds it up. He holds up his hand signaling three... two... one... 

Steve shoves the door open and yells as a blonde girl starts to scream. Steve quickly realizes his mistake and puts the plaque down on a nearby table and holds his hands up. “Woah! Oh, shit. Sorry. You must be Robin’s roommate. I’m Steve,” he introduces himself cautiously holding his hand out. 

Only, the girl doesn’t take it. Instead, she seems frozen as she glances over Steve’s shoulder. 

Steve’s hand drops and he looks over his shoulder to see what's happening but he’s only met with the sight of Robin staring longingly at the other girl. Steve looks back at the girl and sees it. “You must be Chrissy,” Steve breathes out. 

The girl nods slightly, and happiness alongside jealousy churns in Steve’s stomach. “Well, it’s been great meeting you. And I’ll just... see myself out. Robin, we can get the rest of your stuff later. I’m just going to head to my dorm.” 

Robin slightly nods, mirroring Chrissy’s same nod from earlier, and Steve is almost positive that neither of them are getting any of what he’s saying. Damn soulmates. 

Steve heaves Robin’s box through the doorway and lightly shoves her in before closing the behind her. This is certainly not how he wanted his college experience to start. 

He rushes down the stairs and tries not to think too hard about the whole Robin finding her soulmate thing. Like, yes, it’s great. He’s glad she has the perfect roommate and a soulmate who clearly just by first looks is crazy about her. But this means... fuck. 

Steve might be abandoned. He knows it’s unlike Robin, but he’s heard the soulmate stories. Christ, they’re literally a person’s other half, so of course they’re going to want to spend all their time with them which leaves Steve... alone. Or awkwardly third wheeling, but the sight of happy couples makes him irrationally angry. 

Well, with everything, Robin says that he should be reasonably angry about the whole soulmate thing, but... 

Steve shakes his head as he climbs into his car and watches that same long-haired boy heave a box up towards the building. Eddie. A voice in his head unhelpfully supplies, and Steve shakes it away because that would be impossible. 

He forces himself to tear his eyes away and look at the campus map. Sadly, he and Robin aren’t living in the same residence hall, but the buildings should be about a five-minute walk away. He spots his building and takes a deep breath as he thinks about dealing with parking. Luckily, he only has about one trip worth of things with him. 

He finds parking and curses under his breath as he rechecks his dorm number and pockets the key they gave him a few hours earlier. He pushes around the few boxes Robin has left so he can get out his one box and old backpack. Hopefully his roommate doesn’t judge him too much. 

The trek to the building isn’t horrible from the parking lot, but Steve is definitely thankful that he lives on the first floor. 

He finds his room fairly easily and digs his key out of his pocket so he can unlock the door. He sighs when he finds it’s already unlocked and prepares to meet his roommate. He tries to appear pleasant as possible and even tightly smiles as he enters the room. Half of it is filled with weird shit like posters and drawings that Steve thinks that Dustin would like. And he’s definitely gotta ask why the hell he has a giant sign that says “Corroded Coffin.” He whistles low when he spots the guitar propped in the corner of the room. He knows nothing about instruments, but he can tell it’s well taken care of. 

The only thing that he finds odd is the lack of a roommate in the room, but maybe he’s in the bathroom or something. 

Steve doesn’t think too hard about it because he’s filled with relief of finally being alone so he can breathe. It’s not that he isn’t a social person it’s just... he needs time to process the whole Chrissy and Robin thing. More than anything he wants to rant to someone about it, but his options of ranting are: Robin. 

But there’s probably a landline in the common area and definitely pay phones nearby so he can call Dustin eventually. 

He tugs at the leather band around his right wrist for a few minutes as he thinks before realizing the anxious tick and trying to stop. He needs Robin to go back to flicking him in the head every time he does it. Soulmarks don’t like being suffocated he guesses. 

He unpacks the few things he has, stuffing the few pairs of clothes he has in the supplied dresser and slipping sheets over his mattress and making up the thin comforter (curtesy of Robin’s mom) and pillow (also Robin’s mom) to make the place look somewhat like a home. He gets a framed picture of him and Robin out of his box and puts it on his desk lastly before turning around and walking towards his door. 

He stops and takes a breath before turning around and taking in his sad display of a room, but he can’t help but smile. Nothing can be worse than his room from a few weeks ago. 

All the sudden, the door swings open and collides with Steve’s back causing him to stumble forward and curse. 

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were...” the man trails off as Steve turns around. 

It’s the same long-haired guy he saw before, but close up he’s absolutely... 

Eddie. Soulmate. 

Steve’s entire being feels drawn to him, and it’s like he understands what all the soulmates mean when they say as soon as they saw them they just knew. And it feels so right. He’s somehow everything that Steve had always dreamed of since he first got his mark, and nothing at all like what he expected. He’s about to finally say that it’s him, it’s Steve, when he finally shakes himself out of it. 

No, it’s not him. It’s not possible. He’s already met Eddie. 

So, Steve sticks his hand out and says, “I’m Keys.” 

And something about his name must falter whatever is going on in the man’s head as he reaches out and replies, “Kas. Uh, you must be my s- roommate.” 

Steve smiles tightly as the label doesn’t rest well with him. He shakes his hand and can’t help but notice the way his hand feels right in his, but he’s also wearing a band around his wrist that kind of jostles with Steve’s and it feels so wrong like he needs to pry them both off- 

“My roommate who I just hit with the door. Shit, I’m sorry, man, I just got some crazy news that my best friend found her soulmate. At least, I think that’s what I was witnessing because she was just making out with this other girl, and I don’t know, I just kind of ran like hell. And I wasn’t thinking and bam hit you with the door,” Kas rambles out and it’s overwhelmingly endearing to Steve especially when he pulls his hair in front of his face and continues, “Sorry, man, I’m just kind of freaking out.” 

And Steve knows exactly what he means. “I can’t blame you. I just had the same sort of shit happen. My best friend just found her soulmate, and I’m at a loss. I know I should feel happy for her, but I can’t help but think I’m going to be abandoned or some shit.” Steve stops and wonders why the hell he’s talking so much and basically spewing his soul to a stranger. “Sorry,” Steve apologizes and shakes his head, “I don’t usually open up so easily.” 

“Neither do I, but that’s just because I have to keep up my dark and mysterious persona,” Kas says with a bright smile as he raises his hands and wiggles his fingers. 

Steve can’t help but laugh. 

Kas’s smile falls, but more in a dramatic way than a hurt way. “What? Do you not think I’m all dark and mysterious?” 

This makes Steve laugh even harder. He has no idea how this man with the energy of a hyper puppy and the biggest brown doe eyes he’s ever seen has ever appeared threatening or rather “dark and mysterious.” 

Kas sighs and frowns at him, but that just further drives home the point. Steve can’t help but try to stifle his laughter and reply as seriously as he can, “Oh, you’re dark and mysterious alright.” 

Kas lightly shoves him as a blush comes to his cheeks, and Steve doesn’t remember ever feeling so connected to someone as soon as he met them. He can’t help but think that Kas is thinking the same thing as they stare at each other, both smiling as something like hope stirs in Steve. 

He wishes more than anything that soulmates didn’t exist. 

“Hey, Kas!” 

“Keys!” 

Kas and Steve jump back as they stare at the two girls in their doorway who glance back at each other. “No way,” Robin and Chrissy both say together and laugh. 

It takes Steve a moment longer than everyone, but then he’s looking at Kas with wide eyes as he realizes how cruel and kind the universe really is. 

#steddie #steddie wip #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #soulmate au

[silcoitus]

One-shot WIPs

I have a pile of silco/reader one-shots that are starting to collect dust and I want to see if I can try to at least get one of them done. But I have no idea which I should do, so I'm going to let y'all decide! Below the cut are summaries and snippets of my incomplete WIPs. Let me know which you think I should finish first!

The Campaign (3)

Current word count: 1084

Summary: Technically not a one-shot. Third and final chapter of the campaign manager!reader from when Silco was in the DILF tourney

You spend that night in Silco’s bed, wrapped in his arms. He makes no advances on you, content to hold you as you both drift off to sleep. His breath is warm in your hair, the soft rumbling of his breath a soothing sound that lulls you to slumber. You feel content and satisfied as your eyes flutter closed and your breathing calms. Perhaps it was this moment of comfort that made the impending loss sting just a little less.

Magnet

Current word count: 2634

Summary: You finally manage to catch the attention of the Eye of Zaun after countless nights at The Last Drop. Based on the Punch Brothers song "Magnet"

His smile is wicked, showing a hint of his chipped teeth. It's then that you finally find your wits enough to respond.  Feet work quickly to get into position; you wrap an ankle around the back of his as your hands grab his vest's lapels, shoving him downwards. He trips over your foot, crashing into the floor, and you're quick to follow him, straddling his hips. You look to the bodyguard to see him paying you no mind. Perhaps he's not there to ensure you don't do anything so much as to make sure you both aren't interrupted.

Revolutionary

Current word count: 279

Summary: This is actually a rejected scene for this request fulfillment that I might add more to. You and Silco grew up together in the harsh streets of the Lanes. But now that you're both older, can you finally admit your true feelings to each other?

"I would never tell you that you're the only family I've ever had. And the only one I'd ever want." You turn to face him, your cheek pressed into the warm concrete of the roof. He turns to you and his expression is unreadable, a stoic, practiced poker face. "And I certainly would never tell you that I love you. And that I've wanted you ever since we were stupid teenagers." It happens for the briefest of seconds, but you swear you see a flash of recognition in those twin oceans, a glimpse of vulnerability.

Fallen Star (working title)

Current word count: 1514

Summary: The Silco/you POV for this request. This might actually turn into a longfic/slow-burn but goddamn I have too many of those lol Unhappy with making Topsiders lives even more luxurious than they already are, you bring your engineering talents to the Undercity. Your steady improvements do not go unnoticed by the Eye of Zaun.

"We could make a lasting change for people who truly need it. Don't kids growing up in the Undercity deserve to have the same great living conditions we have growing up here?" Your boss says your name low and in warning. "That's enough. Sit down." "No!" You storm your way to the door, an invisible hand pulling you out. The veil over your eyes lifting. "You know what? I quit. I'm sick of sitting here doing nothing when I know for a fact I can be doing some good elsewhere. Have fun with your toys and your profit margins. I'm done."

Visit Family (working title)

Current word count: 576

Summary: You bring Silco home to meet your parents for the first time

“You’re nervous.” Your partner sits back up again, turning to you. “I am not.” “Are too,” you tease back. “It’s why you’ve been pouting all morning.” He slumps into the swing again, resuming his indignant position. “I’m not pouting,” he mutters under his breath. “I just don’t see why I need to meet your parents.”

Practice and Patience

Current word count: 710

Summary: You admit to Silco that he's your first. He responds just as well as you could have ever hoped he could.

"I want you," he starts. "And I want you as you are." Warmth blooms in your chest at his words. You can do nothing but stare silently up at him as he speaks. "I want you to do whatever is comfortable for you. Your comfort is paramount to me."

Nightingale

Current word count: 3352

Summary: As Chross's nurse, you come into contact with many different characters in the Undercity. After a particularly eventful Chembaron assembly, you find yourself face-to-face with the Industrialist.

You press your ear to the door again and hear a chorus of coughs, multiple Chembarons struggling to breathe. Not only that, but there seems to be a sort of hissing sound coming through the door as well as a low hum. Someone is speaking through the cacophony in a melodic tone, wandering and at complete odds with the stifled gasps and coughs of the other Undercity elite. What is happening? You step back and feel something tickle your nostrils. Quickly, you bring your hand up to cover your nose and mouth as you look down. Gas is seeping out from the crack at the bottom of the door, slowly dancing its way up into the air toward you. Your eyes widen and you scramble backward away from it until your shoulder blades hit a nearby window.  Heart racing, your mind works overtime to assess the situation. Is a paycheck worth this?

#silcoitus #silcoitus writing #silcoitus polls #silcoitus asks #silco x you #silco x reader

[phlebaswrites]

Tobirama/Izuna wip number 6, who gets amnesia? And can you give a somewhat more detailed plot for it? Totally understandable if you want to keep it more of a secret for now.

Aha! Numbers 6 and 7 are a matched set for the same prompt, but in the first one Tobirama is the one who loses his memory and Izuna is the one who loses his memory in the second one.

The one you asked about is the one where Tobirama gets amnesia, so you can have my initial thoughts on it!

They're a bit long, so I'll put them under a cut though! 😅

Tobirama is coming home from a mission and is ambushed. He kills everyone, but passes out with a concussion. And when he wakes up, he has no idea what is happening.

Where is he? What is he doing here?

And, most importantly, who is he?

Somehow, he can feel that this direction - he knows that it's east, but he has no idea how he knows that - is the right way to go.

It just…. feels familiar.

On the other side of things…

Izuna is out on patrol, when he sees Tobirama on the other side of the river.

Which is weird as fuck because Tobirama never comes here.

For all that they meet and they fight, he's never once seen Tobirama break across the border and he sure as hell wouldn't do it alone. Not when he can surely sense Izuna right there.

So what is going on.

Maybe it's a message from the idiot tree. In fact, that sounds exactly like something Hashirama would do.

Having failed at persuading nii-san to agree to a treaty by screaming at him on the battlefield - the stupidest idea that Izuna has ever heard of, no one can fucking hear anything over the roar of nii-san's fireballs, Hashirama's proposals have gone unheeded at least partly because they are unheard - this is probably an actual, formal message.

Well, fuck. Alright.

So Izuna squares his shoulders and steps forward to attract his rival's attention. "Well? Hand it over."

He may have to accept it, it's a freaking official message, but no one said that he had to be polite.

But Tobirama just stares at him.

And then he smiles.

What the hell.

Tobirama can actually smile! Izuna would have sworn that his face would crack before he did any such thing!

"You're Izuna!"

Okay, Izuna's day has officially gone from weird to weirder.

"Yes, that's me, you know my name, congratulations! We've known each other since we were eleven, fuck, just had it over already!" God, he wants to get back to the compound and away from whatever shit is happening here.

"It? Oh, of course."

And then Tobirama crosses the river.

Like it's nothing.

Like this is not the spot where they met, almost got killed by each other's fathers, and almost lost their brothers.

Like Tobirama has not just performed an act of war.

Izuna is so shocked that he does nothing as Tobirama walks right up to him and kisses him full on the mouth.

All he can say is "mph!"

He shoves his rival off.

He can feel the words crowding on his tongue but there are too many of them and they come out as incomprehensible gibberish. He waves his arms and stamps his foot.

Tobirama just looks at him with a mildly confused expression. "I'm sorry, did I do it wrong? Let me try again."

As Tobirama bends towards him again, obviously going for another kiss, Izuna finally finds his voice.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!"

Tobirama scratches his head, sheepishly. "Well, you asked, so…? I must admit that I'm guessing a little. I don’t know what it is about you…I just know that I can trust you. That you're important to me. Can you, perhaps, tell me who I am?”

Izuna boggles. "You don't know who you are???"

Tobirama blushes, obviously embarrassed. "Not really. But you obviously know me, so maybe you can help me out?"

Izuna blinks.

That.

That is flirting.

What. The. Fuck.

What is even happening right now!

His rival can smile! Kiss! Flirt!

aaaaaaaaa!

He spins around and stomps off.

Nope. That's it, he's officially done with today! It's over, he's going back to bed and when he wakes up tomorrow the world had better go back to making sense!

And then he hears the scuffle of leaves behind him.

He refuses to look around, even as he knows - he just knows - that Tobirama is following him.

He walks all the way home, blatantly ignoring his rival, pretending that there is No One There.

Right past the patrols, the sentries, and the gates.

All the way home.

But Tobirama never peels off.

Just walks right on his heels, right into the heart of Uchiha territory.

Until nii-san sprints out of the house and then comes to a screeching stop. "Izuna…" he says, slowly, "is there a reason that you brought the White Demon home with you?"

"Aha!" Tobirama says brightly, "So that's my name!"

And Izuna drops his face into his hands.

Fuck his life.

Just….

Just fuck it all.

#asks answered #ask game #Phlebas Writes #Phlebas blogs her writing #Naruto #Senju Tobirama #Uchiha Izuna #Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Izuna #not!fic

[kinnenvy]

qaf wip #1

victorian qaf wip, im 💀. like i was saying idk if i'll ever finish this, but here's a little snippet just to feel something

Dripping. Continuous, incessant, tormenting.

The steady, wet sound echoes through the room and fills the blissfully silent air, it sneaks past any barrier Justin crafts. His hands on his ears, his pillows, then his covers, the weight and width of his shield can do nothing against the quiet drip, drip, drip…

Justin quickly surrenders to watching the water fall from the roof of his room and land loudly in the tin bucket prepared to welcome it. It's unbearable and Justin misses home, misses his room. He misses the comfort of his sturdy mattress, his feather pillows and the maids making sure the stoves warming the rooms never run out of wood and coal.

Justin breathes out slowly, if he had any energy left he would thrash against the coarse bed sheets and throw a tantrum embarrassing enough to rival his younger sister's. Unfortunately, or one could argue fortunately, any will to explode into fits of unadulterated rage has abandoned him the moment his father backhanded him over the breakfast table and threw him, his mother and sister out of their family home and effectively out of the country.

He grabs his pillow, its smell of stale wardrobes and lavender follows him all the way through the large room and out of it. He trudges through the halls of their new accommodation, overtly conscious of the wood creaking under his slippers and the portraits of his grandparents, uncles and younger versions of his mother following him with their eyes as he warily walks in the near complete dark.

Remembering the position of the door he is looking for is giving him a lot of trouble, but eventually he gets the courage to open every door he encounters. He releases a nervous breath, once he finally opens the door hiding his mother. Molly, his sister, is already sleeping by her side and Justin is comforted by the knowledge that they've both had the same idea.

"Mother…" Justin whispers and sounds much more forlorn than he would have liked, "Mom." 

She takes a sharp inhale, almost startled, but she quickly seems to relax. Although Justin can't tell for sure, the lunar light filtering in the spaces between the curtains doesn't illuminate the room enough to let him see.

"There's a leak in my room, I feel like it might drive me mad." Justin explains as a way to secure himself a spot in his mother's bed.

"Sweetheart…" She sighs, "I'm sorry, we'll find a new place soon." The thick woolly covers are drawn back and Justin quickly moves to adjust himself underneath them, "You should tell your grandfather tomorrow. He'll have someone come and patch it up."

"Right…" Justin hums, trying not to think about how many perfectly functional, unoccupied rooms void of any leaks, he saw on his way to his mother's.

He's not sure how long it's been since he's gotten in his mother's bed, when he's awoken by shouting rising from the streets. Despite the coldness swirling in the stale air in the room and its difference from the warmth of the covers, he gathers the will to pull himself up on his feet and reach the nearest window. 

Near the middle of the crossroad on the right of his grandfather's house, there are two gentlemen, dressed in elegant evening coats and tight, light coloured pants. They seem to be fighting, Justin watches them as they push and shove at each other until the tallest of the two grabs the other by the lapels of his jacket and pulls him towards himself. Their faces meet and Justin jolts away as he realises they're kissing.

His ears start burning, his cheeks slowly heat up as well. Slowly, he creeps closer to the glass again, by the time his eyes are back on the scene his whole face and neck must be dyed in varying shades of red, all bound to deepen as he catches the gaze of one of the men. Thick furrowed eyebrows, a head of dark, purposefully unruly hair and a profile sculpted with the same platonic inspiration that used to fuel renaissance men.

The day begins with another tense breakfast, but thankfully Justin's face is not met by the rough palm of anyone's hand. Despite the fact that his grandfather makes it clear he wouldn't mind issuing a dose of discipline through methods that involve physical pain. He says as much as he eats his coque eggs messily, even though his words nail his father as the sole villain, he waves his spoon menacingly right under Justin's nose and then at his mother and sister.

"I shouldn't have let you marry a man without a title," He says gruffly, the grunting accompanying his words reminds Justin of the old, pink pigs, he uses to see every month, when his father took him to town fairs. "My own daughter, a duke's daughter, banished from her house!" He complains aimlessly throughout their entire meal, while Justin's mother, unsure of her own stance, releases noncommittal noises to let him know she is listening.

Molly doesn't eat anything and as soon as their grandfather leaves the table, she cries and asks to be allowed back home. Justin is conflicted, but underneath the embarrassment and the swelling on his right cheek, he wishes for the same thing.

"I need to go out." is what he ends up saying, he doesn't elaborate, but is also met by no resistance. His mother looks at him with concern, but she's so preoccupied by his sister's soul-shaking sobs, that she just dismisses him with a gesture of her hand and a call for carefulness.

His grandfather hasn't been involved with the military for the better part of forty years, yet he operates by its hours. Wake up call at half past five and breakfast at six, that's why Justin finds himself roaming the streets at seven am sharp.

The air hasn't had the time to be warmed by the Sun, so it's especially cold, it pushes past the barrier of Justin's expensive clothes and forces itself on him, frigid like ice and carrying the tangy scent of coal smoke.

Justin is startled out of his thoughts by a door opening, the mansion standing right in front of his mother's family home. He watches the large entrance door, its solid wood dragging over the threshold and uncovering the same man Justin saw the night before.

He is caught staring, it's embarrassing and it makes the calm wind feel a tad colder. 

Without letting himself rot in the memories from the earlier night, Justin starts walking again. He doesn't have a cane and it's too cold to pick the hat off his head and start fidgeting with it, so he tries to discharge some of the nervousness gathering in his body by shoving his hands in his pockets and clench and unclench his fists, pull at whatever loose thread he finds there, do just about anything to stop thinking about the set of footsteps echoing his own.

The man easily reaches his side, they're walking through the intersection when his shoulder bumps into Justin's, he turns to look at him and doesn't do anything to hide how deliberate the move was.

"Sorry." He says without gravitas, his pink lips part in a smile that conveys no friendliness, but snark and other feelings that Justin is not privy to. His eyes, dark and light at the same time, drag very openly over Justin, starting at his leather boots and ending at his own clear, uncomplicated blue eyes. "I haven't seen you around before." He speaks with a thick Irish accent, his voice is steady, but weighed down by the layers of meaning hiding under the surface of each word he utters.

"I'm visiting my grandfather." Justin lowers his eyes to the ground and gestures at the house he's just left. He doesn't dare looking back at it, afraid to see anyone peering through the windows and seeing the exchange.

Long, deft fingers enter his line of vision, they grab onto the golden buttons on his coat and smooth over the forest green fabric, moving upwards until they brush against Justin's chin.

"Oh, a Taylor. A lord, then." He dips his head in a bow, but he sounds like he is mocking him, "Do you have urgent business to attend to?" Justin shakes his head no at his question, dares a glance upwards and feels his breakfast drop so deep inside his stomach that the hunger comes back, only much worse, much more demanding than normal.

The flurry of movements that follow is hard to keep track of, Justin is only looking at the greek slope of the man's nose, at the self-satisfied stretch of his lips as they cross the intersection and quickly disappear in an alley between two mansions. Justin is pushed against a wall, for a brief moment there’s the stench of garbage in the air, until the man in front of him lowers his head towards him and Justin’s nose is hit by the artificial scent of expensive cologne and hints of musk right underneath it, the smell of men he can so easily pick out of any bouquet of scents.

Solid hands make quick work of his golden buttons, Justin instinctively poses his own on them and holds onto the cold skin, half of him in an attempt to slow them, while the other to encourage them.

“What,” He starts and his voice breaks. The man laughs and Justin halts the systems running his body just to gather all his energy to stare and take him in. Brilliant and beautiful, dazzling like the people in songs and paintings. “What is your name?” he tries again as soon as he’s able to retake the reins on his wits.

“Brian.” His voice lowers, it drips slowly like treacle, he raises his chin and squares his shoulders, Justin follows the movement with his eyes and gulps down all the other questions he had been thinking about asking.

"My name is Justin." He says instead, even if the other didn't ask and doesn't seem particularly interested in knowing it. Justin hopes it will stick with him anyway.

"What do you like to do?" Brian asks, he leans his right arm on the wall beside Justin's face, while his left hand still fidgets with his buttons, this time they are the small, round ones cut from mother-of-pearl keeping his shirt closed.

A smile breaches Justin's lips, he is so pleased by the idle conversation, it's just enough to help him keep his mind off the anxiety clamouring right under his skin."Uhm… Painting, listening to music…" 

Brian laughs, it feels sort of pointed, genuinely amused, but still mocking, "I mean in more… Private settings." He explains and his head dips until his lips brush right against his left temple as he speaks. Justin’s mouth opens and his jaw goes slack at hearing someone be so upfront.

"Oh," Justin clears his throat and almost chokes on his spit, the anxiety now reaching heights that cross any expectation he could have ever had.

"Do you like to give it? Do you prefer taking it?" The question immediately transports Justin back to the military academy he's just been driven away from. The hushed whispers of his shy, aristocratic roommates asking him in big boisterous words whether he wanted to touch them over their slacks or not. 

“Uhm,” Justin shifts on his feet, unsure of what to say. The questions are so straightforward now that it’s impossible to search and find in them some sort of innocent meaning. The issue becomes all jumbled up in his head anyway, he’s never really taken or given anything in these situations and he can’t imagine what he could be giving or taking in an alleyway a few metres away from his grandfather’s house.

“I don’t have all morning.” The man, Brian, straightens up, “Do you want to?” He asks, he narrows his eyes and peers right into Justin. Justin is not completely sure what he’s agreeing to, but he finds himself nodding enthusiastically, his hands grasp the other man’s tighter and guide them more forcefully towards his half opened shirt.

Brian’s fingers are nimble and used to touching to provoke pleasure. Justin squirms and trembles as he traces the faint lines of his muscles, the sensitive skin of his nipples, hard and dark pink in the chilly air.

“You’re pretty.” Brian says against his chest, his lips press kisses on his sternum as he slowly lowers himself to his knees, “Wish I had the time to fuck you.”

The word sounds so loud in the early morning silence, Justin feels it echo and bounce off the walls all around them. For a moment his panic convinces him the entirety of the west end must have heard it, but then the buttons keeping the crotch of his pants closed are undone with ease and his half hardness stands out in the open. Anyone could take a wrong turn, or a maid could come trotting out of one of the houses surrounding them and see them. They would end up on the first page of the Inquirer Weekly and then in jail and Justin’s father will absolutely never forgive him then.

“Hey,” Brian says and looks up from where he’s kneeling on the pavement, “Are you still with me?” he asks, darting his eyes betwixt Justin’s face and his shrinking erection. 

“This is a bit,” Justin starts, he scratches his throat, almost claws at it out of frustration, wanting so much what he is being offered, but also being deathly afraid of anyone finding out, “What if someone sees?”

“Who? No one’s staying in these houses, they’ve been empty for quite a while.” Brian arches an eyebrow, his hot palms lay on Justin’s thighs and he caresses him gently, an attempt at soothing him that’s working only marginally against the thoughts rushing in his head. He raises back on his feet and Justin hates himself for having ruined the chance to lay with such a gorgeous man. “It’s fine, dear. Don’t worry about it.” He can tell he’s trying to be gracious, his pants are terribly tented and he can’t stop himself from biting on his lips, as if holding himself back from saying anything more. Justin feels Brian’s lips kiss his temple and then sees him take a step back, retracing the path they’ve followed to find this isolated, secretive angle.

Justin feels him slip through his fingers, his eyes are fixed on the lines of his nose, his jaw, any detail of his features, the beautiful mix of green and amber in his eyes and in a moment he’s stepping forward, “No.” He says, more to himself than the other man, and rises on his toes to kiss him fiercely. It’s clumsier than he would have liked, but the wet slide of their lips is ensnaring to him, the sound alone is enough to make his knees buckle under his weight. His cock is hard again, harder than it’s ever been, Brian touches him again and he fears he might come just with that alone.

Brian doesn’t speak anymore, doesn’t ask leading questions, doesn’t mock and laugh at him. Although he does moan, deep and guttural in Justin’s ears, he kisses him and keeps a tight hold on the back of Justin’s head and his cock. Justin isn’t able to appreciate the scope of sensations he is experiencing, his extremities feel as cold as ice as if all the blood and warmth of his body were concentrating between his legs and in the left hand, secured tightly around Brian.

They stroke each other to completion in no time, Justin feels himself go a little crossed eyed as he pushes as close to Brian as he can, demanding to be kissed, while nearing his climax. Brian indulges him, but he also shifts the positions of their bodies until Justin’s coming against a wall instead of Brian’s clothes. Brian is coming mere seconds later, his hot breath marking Justin’s neck and his hand fidgeting with the strands of his blonde hair.

“Now, this is what I call a good morning.” Brian smiles slyly, Justin’s blood is finally free to roam the entirety of his body and it rushes to his face, showing just how embarrassed he feels by what he’s just done. Quickly they both dress themselves, Justin doesn’t need the help, but he doesn’t protest when Brian reaches around him and he tucks his spent cock back into his trousers, “Thank you for the generous breakfast.” He says and with a slap to Justin’s ass he walks out of the alleyway. Justin is left fidgeting with the buttons of his shirt until he realises what has just happened. He lowers his head, torn between the elation left behind by his orgasm and the need for more. His eyes see a small booklet on the floor, without thinking about it he bends down and picks it up.

He runs, his steps sound awfully loud, despite the fact that most of the lords, ladies, misters and madams inhabiting the houses around him have woken up and have started flooding the streets. Justin is sure he can still see Brian’s wide shoulders walk forward, far from him, but before he can pick up his running again, he is caught, captured by his grandfather’s hand on his shoulder, “Accompany me to the club, boy.” he says in a tone that won’t allow anything other than affirmative answers.

So Justin is left behind, as they wait for the carriage, with the badge of an inspector detective of the metropolitan police in his hands, bound in black leather and hiding the picture of the man he just saw come apart in an empty alley.

#qaf fic #queer as folk fic #queer as folk #britin #britin fic #i have a lot more from this au💀 but no will to actually finish it #idk why i thought i could actually write a ripper street/jack the ripper thing it was insane #but now im super stuck and i hate everything i write and that ive ever written lmao #anyway #fic

[tejoxys]

For the WIP meme, I'm intrigued by any of the TFTLs, particularly hivemind Tooth.

ah, yes, TFTL. I feel bad for this fic, because it deserves to be completed, it's just, I think I psyched myself out with how much I was trying to do with it? I haven't really figured out if I'll be able to pick it back up or not.

anyway, here's a bit of hivemind, and, hmmm, Aspen :D hivemind is fairly early on, after Pitch has been shut in immortal time-out, but before much of anything else happens.

-

Toothiana was working, of course, buzzing briskly back and forth between seven tasks at once, when a chill wind tumbled through the palace, tickling her feet. Her heart leapt. Sure enough, a moment later, an unmistakable voice followed.

“Tooth? Are you here?”

“Jack,” she yelled back. At least, she hoped it sounded like a yell and not a squeal. She rapidly directed a squad of fairies to take over, and zipped through the honeycombs to find him. “Jack, hi! Come on in. It’s great to see you.”

Jack flashed that wonderful smile and flew a playful loop around her. “Hey. It’s good to see you, too. I’m really sorry, I know you’re busy—”

“Don’t be silly. I’ll—all of us—will always make time for you, Jack. What can I do for you?”

“Aw. Thanks, Tooth.” His smile turned shy. “I’ll try to make this quick. It’s just, it’s a memory problem—”

Toothiana shooed a few stray fairies out of Jack’s face. They became so distractible every time he talked! “Oh, no, you’re still having trouble?”

“Huh? Oh, no, not with mine.” Jack laughed. “Well, actually, yes, mine too, but I’m doing okay with that. No, this is about Pitch. Did you know he really can’t remember anything from before?”

Pitch. That name brought a different kind of chill. Toothiana blew out a breath. “I thought that might be the case. I mean, once in a while, he almost acts as if... he knows about everything he’s done. But I suppose if he did,” she said, half talking to herself, “we’d all be in a lot more danger.”

Jack abandoned his midair ballet and settled down onto a balcony. “What do you mean? Would it be bad for him to remember?”

“Oh, I just don’t know.”

“Listen, Tooth, I wouldn’t ask for help with this... but it’s getting really hard for me to work with him when I don’t even know where he came from. When he doesn’t know, either. He’s straight-up amnesic. About weird things, sometimes.” Jack’s voice was becoming more animated. Toothiana fluttered closer and put a soothing hand on his shoulder, willing her own ruffled feathers to smooth down. “It… reminds me of me, in the old days,” Jack finished.

Ah. So much for the argument on the tip of her tongue—the one about the Man in the Moon most likely stripping Pitch’s memory for good reason. That might not go over so well, just now. Toothiana closed her eyes. “Jack… I have one of his teeth.”

“From the time you punched him? Wow. That was awesome, by the way, in case I haven’t told you enough.”

She smiled a little at that. “Thanks. I think that’s my favorite memory of him.”

-

Aspen is close to the end. the timeline of this fic covers... I want to say 14 years? and this scene takes place in the 14th year. Jamie is on his first couples vacation with someone new ouo

-

Jack gave Pitch a shove with one shoulder, unable to stop smiling. “Can we do this later? You were about to tell me how you know my ex’s new boyfriend.” He stumbled slightly on the word ex.

They looked over the roof at the couple again, and it was Pitch’s turn to roll his eyes. “That boy… I almost had him, years ago. He was almost my believer. Before I made my bid for power, when I was still… recruiting.”

Only Pitch would describe systematically corrupting children’s dreams that way. Jack shivered involuntarily and gave him a look. “What did you do to him?”

“Nothing! That’s just it.” Pitch’s wolfish smile faded. “He was like your Jamie, so eager to believe. He put monsters under his own bed and frightened himself silly with them. He invited me. He heard my voice. Given the chance, he would have been mine. I’m sure of it.”

“Let me guess: one of the Guardians rained on your parade and never even knew it.”

Pitch ducked his head and chuckled. “Oh, no,” he said softly. “I wouldn’t respect a child for being rescued by you lot. No, this one was different. He created his own guardian to stand between himself and me.”

“What?” Jack glanced at Pitch, then stared down at Calvin. “You mean an invisible friend? They’re great, but can they do that?”

“No, they can’t. I don’t know what he was, or how the child made him; he was far too independent. And the way he stood up to me—he took every negative feeling into himself, and let the child fear him instead of me. While remaining the child’s friend.” Pitch shook his head. “I never got a word through after that. I came so close.” He paused. The grin resurfaced. “I see no sign of him now. Perhaps I should go give those boys a thrill.”

Jack’s hand clamped down on Pitch’s arm. “No you don’t.”

“Oh, why not? Don’t you want to see this little outing spoiled?” Sharp teeth gleamed.     “Depending on the young man’s character, maybe I can scare him off for good, and poor Jamie will have to start all over. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“No! Don’t you dare go down there.”

“Are you sure?” Pitch teased, half-melting into the chimney’s shadow.

Jack grabbed him with both hands and yanked him into the moonlight. “Pitch, if you go down there, I swear—”

#bowlingforgerbils #thank you owo

[problematicfanfics]

Kinktober ‘21 Oct 19. Hate Sex (WIP)

RAMSCAM, dubcon, l’manberg, dsmp au

slight NSFW (for now)

i think this’ll be my last one… idk. maybe i’ll post more. ignore all errors.

* ⋆★

Trees.

There used to be so many trees.

But with the combination of sapnap’s fires and gentrification of the land nothing was left but a small patch some ways off.

It was his sanctuary. Sometimes he’d read, drink, stargaze. But sometimes he’d do even more intimate things, like writing or singing, even art.

Today was a good day. There was no war, only collecting wood and laughing with friends. So he had decided to settle down for the night and paint a little.

Upon arriving he was very well pissed off to see a drunk man laying in the middle of his safe place. Schlatt. What a fucking disappointment.

When the man first showed his face around the server, Tommy remembers feeling so honored. Just having Schlatt around in his general area in his stupid suit and tie made him feel so cool.

But now he sees how naive and stupid he was. Maybe it was all the time Schlatt had spent away, maybe it was the rumors that shot out of people’s tongues like arrows in war, or maybe it was just seeing these rumors play out live in front of him. Whatever it was, war made him realize he can’t blindly follow someone he knows nothing about.

“Hey. Hey dickface, get out of here.” He shoved Schlatt.

“Fuck off, man. Can’t a guy sleep?”

“You have a bed. Go. This is my spot.” Tommy placed his art things on the ground, quietly to not draw attention to it. “It’s the only fucking patch of trees around and I want to relax tonight. Beat it kid.”

“A fucking drunk like you doesn’t have any right to relax. You do nothing BUT relax!” The kid threw his hands up in the air. “I have been through wars. Through death and pain. I have the right to relax. NOT you.”

Schlatt stood, moonlight highlighting just how big he was. “I don’t deserve to relax?”

“You fucking heard me.”

“Learn to keep your mouth shut, kid. You’re gonna run into trouble.” The older one turned to leave with an eye roll, muttering under his breath “I’m fucking lazy? I do shit.”

“If you do shit,” Tommy turned to face Schlatt defiantly. “Then what is it? Because I only see you get drunk.”

He stopped walking, taking only a few strides to get to where Tommy was. “I’m a fucking business man, that’s what I am. And I’m pretty damn successful. I got money, a life, and liquor. I’m fucking set. All I see you have is trauma for no reason.”

Tommy scoffed. “No reason? It was life or death!”

“It was for the independence of a stupid nation, who gives a shit. Just fucking get under their rule and take them down from there.”

“That’s the fucking stupidest plan I’ve ever heard of.”

“Ok Mister ‘“do I shoot him or aim for the sky?”,” He gets close to the boy’s face. His eyes sting from the alcohol on his breath. “Pathetic that you really think you ever meant anything to this nation.”

Tommy’s fists ball up. “I paid with my life.”

“So what? I still see you standing here. You wouldn’t even die for the thing you’re oh so passionate about. It’s sad, truly, that you think you deserve special treatment. This is public property.”

The blond points to a sigh on a tree, and Schlatt goes over to read it.

“BIG MAN TOMMY’S LAND! DON’T TOUCH >:(”

Schlatt walked back over to Tommy. “Doesn’t mean jack shit if you don’t have a building on here. So as far as I can tell,” He leans up against the beginning of the mountain behind him. “This is fair game.”

This fucking bastard! What fucking right does he think he has? Tommy’s the entitled one here? No way! No, all he wanted was to sit and paint. Just one night of relaxation. But he can’t even fucking have that.

Quickly he pulled out his sword. “Square up, bitch.”

Schlatt stood up straight. “Woah, hold up kid. I don’t have a sword. Let me make one real quick.”

Tommy threw an extra stone sword in front of him. “You and me. Let’s go. Right here right now.”

Schlatt slowly picked up the sword, getting into his fighting stance.

The two stared at each other intensely. Neither wanted to make the first move and ruin their chances.

Finally Tommy swung his sword, lodging it in a tree instead of Schlatt’s side. The older jumped out of the way before holding his head in his hands. That’s right, he’s still drunk. Tommy almost forgot.

He unlodged his sword before running towards Schlatt again. The two nicked each other a couple of times, coming dangerously close to killing the other once or twice. But something always stopped them.

Schlatt pulled out his shield, instantly knocking Tommy off his feet. The boy fell on his back with the wind knocked out of him.

He took this as an opportunity to kick the sword out of Tommy’s hand and pick the boy up by his shirt. The boy was thrown against the stone wall like a ragdoll, neck pinned by Schlatt’s forearm. It was quiet except for their breathing.

“I win.” Schlatt whispered. Tommy could’ve sworn the hairs on his back stood up. Something about the way the man said it…

“Well? What do you say?” The grip tightened.

Desperately Tommy clawed at the arm pinning him down. “Fuck you.”

“Tsk. That’s no way to speak to me.” Schlatt’s voice sounded condescending. “Cmon, baby boy. Tell me I win.”

“Baby boy? What’s this, a fucking porn?”

“It’s about to be if you don’t fucking own up to the fact I beat your ass.”

“Never.” Tommy snapped back.

“Fine. You fucking asked for it.” Schlatt reached into his back pocket. “You’re lucky I even have. I had plans to fucking jack off before you showed up, guess I can’t just do anything in peace around here.”

His grip changed from forearm to hand, pressing hard against the boy’s neck.

Finally he pulled out a small bottle of disposable lube. He grinded his hips against the boy’s front, hot breath escaping the younger. “Fuck, if we’re gonna do it let’s just do it.” Tommy rolled his eyes and pushed Schlatt’s hand away, more of a suggestion they should just mutually get this over with.

Schlatt let go and immediately Tommy pulled him in for a kiss. A mess of taking off clothes, barely taking breath in between making out, they made their way to the back of the mini forest out of everyone’s eyeline.

Tommy pushed himself up against Schlatt. He hated this man, but there was an undeniable attraction he had with him.

#poppytwt #problematicmcyt #problematictwt #problematic #problematicfanfics #poppyblr #ver’s wip poll

[verfound]

I might be late to the party but If you're still taking WIP game questions I'd like to know about a couple! Winters: -I want One -Keep Your Mate Warm -Scratchpad - The Stairs House Band: -Papa's Ink -Harold the Glitter Cow -Maman's First Maman's Day

I was gonna add a couple other from the dingo files and the main folder but I didn't wanna be too greedy 🤣.

Ha ha, definitely not too late! Let's see what I got here...

So I am gonna start by saying any file/folder labeled "Scratchpad" is exactly that: scratchpads. I don't like to completely delete stuff, because I might find whatever was happening doesn't work there but might work somewhere else? Or there's a line/idea I liked but wasn't working out right at the time. So I have little Scratchpads with old drafts/nixed ideas. I was struggling with Luka's reaction in Some Scars Run Deep, so that's the majority of that scratchpad - a few versions of the latter half of that fic where things weren't coming together right.

"I Want One" is set around that last chapter of Winter's Fury and focuses on Juleka and Rose. Specifically, Rose meeting Clara and immediately going home and telling Juleka "I want one. Now." After WF wrapped up I had like three or four fluffy ideas that all got jotted down as "Owed Fluff", but then Princess Heartmaker took over and nothing beyond notes has come of them yet. 😂

Same thing with "The Stairs". In the last scene of WF, remember how Tom mentions what Luka thought was a closet was stairs/a second floor? And Luka was asking Marinette about it, but she was like "later I'm sleepy"? I wanted to go into a bit about how that was Marinette's next project once he finally started sleeping again: she is trying to move forward and look ahead to their future, and they both have said they still wanted more snakelets (even with everything that happened with Clara/Lila), but her cottage was only ever meant for a single person. So she made a second floor so they'd have room for their family to grow. It was becoming too much to include in WF, though, so I had it set aside as something to play with later.

"Keep Your Mate Warm" is actually "Keep Your Mate Warm (and Your Friend's Mate Warmer)". Quick found this prompt:

“Because, your house is freezing. What’s with the weird possessive thing around the thermostat? Let her be warm, for fuck’s sake. And, before you get weird. Yes, we were naked in bed. No, we weren’t doing anything sexual. We were watching cat videos. She wouldn’t cheat on you. I offered, but she said no.”

“Leave - before I kick you out of my house.”

“Gladly, it’s warmer out there.”

And made the comment how it would be a great Dingo prompt - specifically Winters Dingo, if I hadn't...y'know. So it starts with Marinette out by the river around the turn of season, when it's still cold enough to be an issue, and Perry runs into her, startles her, and she falls into the water. Hits her head or something so doesn't immediately come out, and she's freezing when he fishes her out - so he takes her back to his home, because it's closer, and sets about warming her up (getting her wet clothes off, shoving her under a million blankets, cuddling up in wolf form bc body heat). When she wakes up it's awkward but she gets it, only when they get her home and tell a half-awake Luka what happened he starts to overreact - until Perry gives him shit for that time Brielle went to check on him in the winter and found him asleep and half-dead outside his cave and did the same thing. Which was all done to get us some Winters Bri, really. 😂

Aaand for the HB fics...

...a common theme you will notice with a lot of HB prompts is "Quick sent me X and..." 😂 There's a reason we call them Dammit Quicks. 😂

"Harold the Glitter Cow" is from a video she found where this girl is grooming a cow, and the final step is adding a coat of glitter? Which got this idea in my head of this one older cow named Harold (it's not even a bull - it's a cow, and for some reason the kids named her Harold) that Mellie wants to make pretty, so she gets her with a glitter bomb. Which makes Luka go, "Ok, Mel, we're teaching you how to do this right." So it's all about Mellie learning how to properly groom a cow, and yes, there are ways to coat them in glitter, but don't use your maman's stash what were you thinking.

"Papa's Ink" is Bloody's fault. 😂 She found this BNHA picture of Aizawa grading papers while Eiri colored in tattoos on his arm, and it Sparked Things. Luka, before his sleeve was complete, working on something when he feels something tickling his arm. Looks down and Mellie's there, coloring in his sleeve with her markers. It's keeping her calm/occupied and is cute as hell, so he doesn't say anything. And it keeps working, so maybe he gets a few outline tattoos specifically for that purpose? He takes pictures of the colored ones before he washes them off to save (maybe hangs 'em on the fridge like a Dad or saves 'em to use as Embarrassing Baby Photos when the kids start dating).

"Maman's First Maman's Day" is another DQ. She found this vid of a daddy taking his toddler to Target to pick out Mother's Day gifts, and one of the things the girl grabbed was a sexy nighty bc "it was pretty". So it's set when Harm's still little, like the Mother's Day before Mellie comes along, and Luka takes her out to get Marinette something for Mother's Day. And it's mostly safe, until Harm finds a black underwear set or something that she thinks is pretty/likes the feel of, and Luka's like "No no no Maman won't like that" - so Harm grabs for a pink one, because of course Maman will love that one. 😂 It's mostly just daddy/daughter fluff, but Luka totally sneaks the underwear in as his gift.

(If you want more feel free - going through these helps me remember which ones I need to get cleared out. 😂 Some of them can be short/quick and just get buried under Other Projects, so yeah totally help me get a checklist going! 😂)

#wip asks #ask game #wip asks jan 23 #miraculous ladybug #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #winters verse #house band

[piratefalls]

“Find the Word” WIP Game

@ereborne tagged me to find “branch”, “silver”, “thoughtful”, and “please”

i won’t tag anybody, but if you want to, my words are: hungry, laugh, yellow, bottom

i’ll probably have to pull from a few different fics that will likely never be finished because my brain is stupid.

under a cut because i hate long posts. includes woke up married buddie, buddie velocipastor au, and an unfinished person of interest fic.

branch (from woke up married buddie)

Buck forgets about their agreement to be professional almost immediately.

Only moments after he’d walked back into the building the alarm had sounded and they were off to a call at an auto shop. Hen and Chim pepper Eddie with questions almost the whole way to the scene: in what branch did he serve, where’s he from, what made him choose fighting fires over anything else. Eddie seems to take it all in stride, and Buck is torn between feeling endeared to him and incredibly annoyed with how quickly his previously AWOL husband is being welcomed into the fold, so he does what he always does. He pokes the bear.

silver (also woke up married, unfinished scene)

They’re in the gym the next morning. Buck hates seeing Eddie all sweaty and disheveled. Buck wants to sink his fingers into Eddie’s hair, pull hard until all he has is miles of unmarked skin before him. But he can’t, because they aren’t really together, are probably going to talk tonight about the best way to end this thing.

[Of course, there’s the bomb in some guy’s leg.]

He knows about Eddie’s service from before, knows about the bullet wounds, the silvery scars that mark his shoulder, his thigh. He’s kissed those scars, reverent, pride welling in his chest, but the way Eddie talks about being familiar with this kind of ordnance is, well… It’s hot. Buck thinks he may be developing a competency kink.

As they’re gearing up, Bobby tells him that they usually wouldn’t send spouses into a dangerous situation together, and Buck laughs. “We’re not spouses, Bobby. Just married. There’s a big difference.”

thoughtful (nothing with that word, so i’m going with ‘thought’ because this velocipastor buddie au will probably never see the light of day)

In the predawn light Buck and Eddie find themselves wrapped around each other in Buck’s bed, safely tucked away in the loft Eddie’s going to ask him to move out of one of these days, when a thought strikes him.

“Hey, Buck.” A grunt. “What did they call sunrise in prehistoric times?”

“I don’t know, Eddie,” Buck replies, voice flat. “What did they call it?”

Eddie grins into Buck’s shoulder. “Megalo-dawn.”

Buck shoves him off the bed.

Worth it.

please (from my unfinished post-series person of interest/rinch fic i started many, many years ago)

Finch exhales, deep and long. “If you think I wished for your return solely because you are an exceptional field agent then I’m afraid that the failure lies solely with me.”

“Harold, you didn’t --”

“I am not what anyone would call good with my feelings, and I am even worse at expressing them when it is most needed. I have missed having you out in the field, I won’t deny it, but more important than that is the fact that you are my friend, and you have become… very important to me.”

That last part is said so quietly that Reese isn’t sure he hears it. “I’m… important, to you.”

Finch sighs, but the corner of his mouth is ticking up, and something in John’s chest settles into place.  “You will always be welcome here, John, whether you are working for me or not. And while Ms. Shaw has been doing an admirable job in your absence, she doesn’t seem to share your affinity for taking out criminals at the knees.”

At that, John laughs, full and loud, and Finch finally smiles. “You hate it, don’t you?”

“Passionately,” he replies, taking another sip of his tea. “Please, Mr. Reese. It’s been awfully boring without you.”

John grins to himself. “Are you begging, Finch?”

“Hardly,” he scoffs, leaning back in his chair. “I simply wanted to make you aware of exactly how much your presence has been missed.”

#about me #my fics #my works in progress #and by progress i mean my fics doomed to languish on gdocs forever

[gaygh0stt]

#*shoves all my wips under the bed* nothing to see here :) #im sorry office romcom au lokius fic i promise i still love you #i just love angst more #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #ao3 writer #ao3 #fanfic writing #loki #mcu #marvel #supernatural #destiel #merthur #im just tagging a bunch of fandoms for more attention djdksk #good omens #ineffable husbands #merlin #rwby #snowbaz #wolfstar

[ragingbookdragon]

And I Will Still Be Here Stargazing PT. 3

A Batsis x Batfamily Story!

Word Count: 1.3K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: *Vigorously scribbling down the plan to this story whilst my WIP's stare at me unsurprised* Enjoy! -Thorne

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

She awoke to someone patting her head and she frowned, shifting away from it. “Stooooooop,” she whined, burrowing her face in what she thought was her pillow, but when the said pillow started vibrating with laughter, she grunted and picked her head up, realizing she’d burrowed into Jason’s side.

“Well good morning to you too, Princess.” He chirped. “How’d you sleep?”

Grunting again, she dropped her head down onto his thigh and curled her arms to her chest, legs coming up to her torso. “Still tired.”

Someone rubbed her ankle. “Well, from what you said, you’ve slept long enough to not be tired for a whole month.” Dick appeared in her vision. “You really don’t remember anything after seeing the comet?”

She shook her head. “Nope.” Reaching out, she ran her fingers through Tim’s hair from where it’d stuck up; he’d fallen asleep sitting in front of the couch, his head laying back on the sofa. “All I remember is seeing it and then I was waking up.”

“Aliens,” Cassandra whispered, and she looked at her.

“Please don’t say that.”

Cassandra reached out and poked her heart. “Alien in your chest.” Her sister grinned when she scowled. “Gonna pop out of your body and hiss at us. Scurry into the vents and hunt.”

“That’s not funny. I hate that movie.” She pressed her hands to her chest and looked at Jason. “I don’t have a gross alien baby in my thoracic cavity that’s going to burst out at any moment, right?”

He shrugged. “Dunno, (Y/N). We’ll see soon.”

“I hate you guys,” she scowled again, and someone snorted above her.

“Sister, you do not have an alien inside you.”

(Y/N) turned her neck to see Damian sliding off the back of the couch, rolling on top of her, his back to her side. “Oh yeah? How do you know?”

“Doctor Leslie scanned you. You’d also be dead though. From what the lore on aliens says, it only takes a few hours.”

“Great. So, I’m not going to die, but I’ll never get those memories back then.” She sighed heavily. “I really went off grid?”

“Totally,” Dick replied. “Like tracker untraceable. Disappeared into thin air. Gone with the wind. Complete—”

(Y/N) reached over and shoved her hand against his mouth. “I got it.” He licked her palm and she griped, “You’re a child.” Sighing, she turned her head up, staring at the ceiling. “I don’t remember though. It’s so strange.” Her voice quieted. “What am I forgetting? I feel like it was so important.”

“Hey, you’ll figure it out, Princess. You’ve got us to—” Jason rested his hand on her head. “Holy shit, you’re warm.”

She blinked and met his gaze. “What?”

He pressed his hand to her forehead then glanced at Dick. “Feel her forehead, she’s burning up.”

Dick’s brows were furrowed as he reached over, and his face contorted in concern. “Little-wing’s right, (Y/N). You’re hot.”

“I don’t feel bad,” she offered, reaching up to feel her skin, but sure enough, like they said, she was warm to the touch. (Y/N) shifted. “Dami, get off me for a minute.” He moved and she rose, them following as she wandered into one of the bathrooms, shutting the door behind her.

She gazed at herself in the mirror. Her complexion hadn’t changed, neither had her gum color or tongue. Nothing hurt, no headache, nothing at all. (Y/N) cocked her head to the side in confusion staring at herself when something flashed in her eye. She blinked rapidly and leaned forward, gasping quietly when she blinked again and one of her eyes had changed colors from her normal one—this time, it was a full orbital color, white, like a sparkling diamond.

(Y/N)’s felt her heart lurch, and she reached up, carefully prodding at her lids. It didn’t hurt, but when she pressed a finger below her eye and pulled down to see if there was something inside, her skin sagged with it, revealing underneath something she could only describe as vantablack with bursting colors beneath.

Her jaw went slack despite the terror welling inside her and she stopped touching her face for fear of hurting herself, but when no pain came, she reached up and pinched her skin, slowly peeling it away. The more she peeled, the more the black galactical pattern beneath shown through.

“I’m losing my mind,” she breathed, reaching up to pull away the skin of her upper eyelid to her forehead. She stopped when she reached her hairline, gaping as starlight colored hair peeked beneath. “What the hell?” she whispered, starting to yank.

“(Y/N)? Are you alright in there?”

She jerked, turning towards the door and momentarily, she almost broke down in fear of the door opening. “I’m fine!” she called and looked back towards the mirror, surprised when her face appeared normal once more. “I’m just—uh, taking my temperature!”

Something was seriously wrong with her. Whatever that was, it wasn’t normal, and she was panicking on the inside.

“What is it?”

“It’s about one hundred. Just a minor fever.” (Y/N) opened the door and smiled. “I’ll just go up to bed and sleep it off, yeah?” she didn’t wait for a reply, simply hurrying past them and up the stairs to her bedroom.

Shutting the door, she dove into her bed and under the covers, not sure if she should feel worried or absolutely terrified of what just happened. Maybe I’m just tired. Really, really, out-of-it tired. Though something deep down made her feel like this mystery was just the beginning.

***

When she awoke again, someone was caressing her head and she blinked blearily at whoever it was. “Dad?” she murmured, and he smiled softly.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

(Y/N) sighed tiredly. “What time is it?”

“Quarter past eleven,” he replied. “You’ve been asleep all day.”

“Sorry,” she whispered, and he shook his head.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” He smiled again. “You hungry? Alfred made chicken parmesan for dinner.”

She huffed a quiet laugh. “My favorite.”

Bruce nodded. “Think you can eat? You’ve gotta be starving.”

Now that she thought about it, she wasn’t hungry at all. Which was weird because she was always snacking on something, be it candy or chips. “Actually, I’m not that hungry.” (Y/N) remarked and she watched as his dark brows furrowed, then he rested the back of his hand to her cheeks.

“You’re still warm like your brothers said.” He frowned. “You’ve been running this fever all day and now you’re not hungry…”

She could tell the mood was becoming worrying by the minute and she smirked. “Face it dad, I obviously got abducted by aliens and this is the one they left in my place to assume normalcy.”

Bruce huffed a laugh and pinched her cheek. “You’re hilarious.” Letting go, he stood from her bed and looked down at her. “Maybe get some more rest and you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Sounds like a plan, dad.” She agreed, not wanting to argue. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He bent down and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I love you sweetheart. You know that don’t you?”

“I love you too, dad.”

“You’d tell me if something was bothering you, wouldn’t you?”

Something in his tone tugged at her heartstrings and she smiled warmly. “Yeah, dad. If there was something I couldn’t handle, you’d be the first I’d come to.”

Bruce returned her smile. “Good…sleep well, sweetheart.”

(Y/N) closed her eyes once more, falling into a deep sleep, but it was anything but restful. No, it was filled with nightmares, of ancient battles waged across the broad expanse of the universe, from the beginning of time to the end of it. And one word kept being repeated in amongst those nightmares—Insentients.

#batfamily x reader #batfamily x reader imagines #batfamily x reader imagine #batfamily imagines #batfamily imagine #batfamily x batsis #batfamily x batsis imagines #batfamily x batsis imagine #batfamily #batsis x batfam #batsis x batfamily #batsis x batfamily imagines #batsis x batfamily imagine #batsis imagines #batsis imagine #batsis #bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #cassandra wayne #black bat #batgirl #damian wayne #robin #dc comics

[keilemlucent]

mother knows best

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~4.6k

keigo’s dick catches up with him in the form of a fat, red strap

warnings: daddy kink, subby hawks, mean reader, lingerie, pegging, dumbification (a wittle), dacryphilia, revenge sex, degradation, keigo’s a cock slut ❤️

...

oh wow so this is actually a wip from all the way back in august!! i got some good inspo, so enjoy some subby hawks goodness loveys <3

You wanted nothing more than fucking ruin Keigo.

He’d been a shit lately, more annoying than usual. Fuck, you’d even say that he had been a downright brat.

It was obviously somewhat endearing, getting bent over countertops, teased through your clothes and getting left wet and wanting as he would just so happily walk away, whistling triumphantly to himself. 

Or, maybe, it was how at the recent Hero’s Gala, Keigo had dragged you into one of the hotel’s lavish bathrooms, meters away from his colleagues and shoved you up against the large dressing mirror, his bulge shoved against your ass, whispering about how he was going to shred your dress from your frame. 

“You just look too good, babe,” Keigo’s hands raked up and down your chest, nearly pulling your breasts from the delicate fabric of your dress. 

You’d pleaded with him, “I get that you’re horny, but this really isn’t the place.”

You still let him fuck your mouth to orgasm.

Twice.

He’d been at least nice enough to help you wipe the smears of the professionally done makeup from your face.

“Sorry,” Keigo spoke with a smile, thumbing away a run of mascara from under your eyes as you sat on the edge of the sink. “You did great though. You were so beautiful for me, angel. So sexy. ”

You frowned, grabbing his hand and pulling it away from your face, meeting his eye with an uncomfortable amount of intensity. 

“Keigo.”

He blinked.

“Yeah?”

You felt his palms begin to sweat in your grip.

You smiled, something eerily dark.

“How do you feel you’ve been lately?”

You watched his throat bob, his keen mind going just where you wanted it to. As much as you loved indulging in Keigo’s insatiable, unstoppable, carnal need to bend your back until it broke, you were also very tired of the attitude he’d gotten from it lately. 

“I think...” Keigo wet his lips, pressing between your spread legs from your perch, “I think I’ve been good.”

“You do?!” You repeated, laughing a bit as you squeezed your thighs around Keigo’s trim waist. You grabbed his cheeks between your thumb and middle finger, forcing his gaze to be on your messy, smeared face. “I didn’t think my ‘good boy’ was such a fucking dumbass.”

A whimper dripped from the back of his throat as you frowned, knowing how quickly being taken down a peg got him hot and bothered.

“You’ve jumped my ass without any regard for circumstances how many times in the last week?” You sneered, digging your nails into baby fat above his jaw. “Did you think about the consequences of your actions, babe?”

Keigo let out a deep breath, “Angel, I—”

You fully grabbed his cheeks and jaw, squeezing his lips puckered, “What did you just call me?”

His eyes went wide, hands tensing on the tops of your thighs.

“If I let you speak, are you going to do so properly?” You relished the frantic nod he tried to give you.

You dropped your hand to the front of his dress shirt, hooking your fingers into the top of his tie, “Speak then.”

“I’m sorry, mommy,” Keigo’s eyes went big and doughy, refusing to look at you. 

“That’s better,” You hummed, playing with the silky fabric. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, okay, sweetheart?”

He forced his gaze up to yours.

“We’re gonna go back out there, smile for the cameras, and then head home and get some good sleep.”

“B-but aren’t you going to p-punish—” Keigo words were gluey and slow, giving you all the more reason to interrupt him, even going so far as to shift to tighten his tie around his neck, perhaps a bit too constricting.

“I will, when the time is right. You just try to be a good boy until then, see you actually can.”

A filthy, but very fun plan was brewing in your head. It just would take some time.

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

The opportune time struck a few weeks later. Though Keigo had at first been on some better behavior, he reverted to his typical, bratty self a week after your threat was made.

You were just biding your time, besides, custom orders took some time.

It wasn’t hard to contact Keigo’s PA, requesting his measures for ‘unknown’ purposes. 

What was harder was wading through the hundreds of beautiful designs you could order for him. You spent a good few hours scrolling and fantasizing about what colors and patterns Keigo’s pretty, lithe body would look best in. After beating one out, you made your decision, entered his measurements, and sent the order off. It might’ve been the fervor of hot pleasure you had, but you threw in an extra item or two to your purchase. You were spoiling yourself, really. 

Three weeks later, it arrived, perfect in every way, along with the extra items.

Then, it was just about watching Keigo and waiting to strike.

...

He came in late one night, feathers all but bare, uniform muddled.

As Keigo fell on the bed following his shower, you took note of his downy stubs, bare of most of his usual feathers. You grinned something wicked. 

Tomorrow was the day.

Keigo crawled up to you, immediately pulling your back to his chest, peppering your shoulders with kisses before drifting off. You turned to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, hoping he’d get enough rest to be ready for all you had planned.

...

The next morning, Keigo lumbered out of bed while you were finishing your coffee on the couch, already donned in your business casual attire (with some additions, but he couldn’t see those yet). 

“Hey, angel,” His voice was scratchy with sleep as he plopped down next to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “How’d you sleep?”

“I slept super good,” You smiled, returning his sweet gesture. “How about you?”

“Good, very good. I’m just glad I have a day off.” Keigo relaxed into the cushions. He flexed the roughly two-foot-long stubs of crimson feathers, “Gotta grow these back out, and that means I’m relaxing all day.”

You grinned, the pieces of your plan having perfectly fallen into place.

“I’m very glad, sweetheart,” You gave him a fleeting kiss before standing up and heading back to the bedroom. 

Keigo called after you, “Where’re you off to, angel? I wanna give you some love before you gotta leave me.”

“One sec! I just gotta get my shit together for work,” You purred back knowingly. Your purse was already packed and ready. You had other traps to lay.

Flitting into the closet, you rummaged through a small set of drawers to retrieve one of the several packages you received. It was a clean, white box, about half the size of a pillow, wrapped in red ribbon. 

You laid it on the freshly made bed, adjusting some of the satins as you did. 

Keigo beamed at you as you exited to the living room, sauntering up and wrapping his hands around your waist to kiss your forehead. 

He stiffened when he felt the straps beneath your work blouse.

“Angel?” He squeezed your waist. 

You smirked, kissing the corner of his mouth before gently cupping his jaw, “Now, sweetheart, can you be a good boy for me today?”

Keigo, the sweet thing he was, turned to putty in your hands.

He nodded, his bottom lip poking out. 

“Good,” You tightened your grip on his jaw. “You have a lot to make up for, considering what a brat you’ve been lately.”

The way Keigo trembled in your hold, cheeks hot, made your head spin with your ideas for the evening. 

“You didn’t forget, did you?” You walked him back, only stopping when his ass hit the kitchen table. He jumped when he slid just the slightest bit back, forced to sit. 

“F-forget what?” Keigo genuinely couldn’t remember, based off the quirk in his brow.

You clicked your tongue, shifting a knee between his legs, “At the Gala. Use your brain, sweetheart.”

His expression fell with the revelation. 

Your punishments were never easy. Very fun, but god, they were excruciating. 

Watching the expression on Keigo’s face drift as he worked out the context of your actions made you shiver. You were sure he’d be a brat later, but catching him off guard always made him particularly weak to your touch.

“Now, baby, I was nice enough to leave a pretty present for you in our room.” You pinch his plump bottom lip between your fingers, “When I get home, I want you on the bed all dolled up for me, understand?”

He swallowed, nodding against your hold as enthusiastically as he could manage.

“Good.” You released him, kissing the indent that your nails left. “I’ve got to get going, but I love you lots, okay?”

Keigo was comically stunned with a very noticeable bulge in his boxers, “I l-love you too.”

You throw your purse over your shoulders, smug at your ability to turn Keigo into obedient mush. 

As you opened the door to leave, you were gracious enough to shout and remind him, “Oh, and sweetheart? Be a good boy and don’t you dare touch yourself today, or I’ll make tonight far worse for you. Have a good day off, love!”

...

The moment you left the apartment, Keigo let out a tight breath.

Holy fuck.

He really thought he’d get to spend the day relaxing and letting his wings regrow, but as it turned out, you had far better plans for the two of you and Keigo didn’t have the mind to fight it.

Not yet, anyway.

He’d give you shit later. It was fun to push you around, in any context.

When he was sure you were far out the door, he quickly padded to the bedroom, eyeing the box that lay on the duvet.

Slipping onto the sheets, he kneeled and pulled it closer. He rubbed at the ribbon, frowning. 

The two of you had used toys and...  devices plenty of times, tending to each other, just in different ways. But, when Keigo picked up the parcel, it seemed far too light to have any sort of toy in it.

Keigo frowned, slipping off the satin and pulling off the lid.

...

Oh fuck.

Inside, neatly packaged with crisp tissue paper, was a carefully folded set of clothes. Special clothes, notably.

This became abundantly clear as Keigo carefully pulled the mesh and lace out of the box, blood rushing to his half-hard cock. 

It was an incredibly pretty set. Stockings, garters, even a ribbed bodice with lacey cups, all pale pink with gold embroidery and accents. 

It was pretty, but not your size at all.

As he pulled out the last item, a pair of satin and lace panties with extra fabric at the front, he realized that these were undoubtedly for him.

A hot blush sped to his cheeks as he stared down at the pretty mess in front of him. 

Sure, he’d talked about this kink to you in passing, but you’d never mentioned it and he’d never asked you to indulge him in it. 

However, it was quite clear that that was indeed what you were doing, giving him such a beautiful set. 

There was even a small card.

“Keigo, 

Despite the fact that you’ve been nothing but an ungrateful brat lately, 

I’ve been gracious enough to give you a sweet gift.

You’ll have to earn it tonight. 

Be good.

(Y/N) <3”

 Keigo stared down at the garments and the note, already far too hard to be comfortable.

It was hardly going to be a leisurely day off.

...

 You took the opportunity to torture Keigo just a little.

Honestly, you deserved it. With the way he’d been randomly dragging you into bathrooms, alleyways, and dressing rooms to wreck you, it was truly only fair that you got to wreck him. 

So, you started early.

You sent picture after picture to him throughout the day, stepping from your office to tease at your own special garments that hid just under your modest clothing. Keigo probably wouldn’t touch himself, knowing what that would cost him. Fucking with him throughout the day would just make your revenge that much sweeter. 

He was easy to get riled up, it was one of his biggest weaknesses when this dynamic came up. Keigo might’ve had the stamina to go for hours, but he didn’t have the heart or mind not to beg for it.

And god, by the end of reaching your own workday, straps feeling almost too tight and pussy dripping, you were more than ready to fuck Keigo up beyond belief.

 |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

 “Kei’? I’m home!” You called as you came in the front door, slipping off your shoes and hanging your purse.

“I’m in here,” Keigo’s voice echoed from the bedroom.

Oh.

Perfect.

Your plan, long thought-out, had turned out perfectly. Now, you reaped the reward.

You were going to fucking ruin Keigo.

Destroy him.

If he wasn’t a shaking pile of cum and sweat when you were done with him, you’d just keep going. 

You strode to the bedroom, anticipating the sight before you with bated breath.

And god, did Keigo take yours away.

Like a ‘good boy’, he was just as you ordered him to be. 

He was kind enough to keep the lighting the room low, though he was more than visible and fucking gorgeous.

The lingerie set fit him beautifully, as you expected. The pink satin and lace stretched over his tanned skin so well, showing off the tone of his muscles and the swell of his light curves, as well as his already weeping bulge. 

He sat on his spread knees atop the bed, garters pulling tight over his upper thighs. The panties were maybe a bit small for Keigo’s fat cock, but seeing a bit of him peeking out was never a bad thing.

The bodice of the piece was truly beautiful. It was ribbed, a blushing pink and had small threads of golden stitching accenting the lace work. The cups of the piece were pressed to Keigo’s hardened, pierced nipples, the fabric undoubtedly teasing the skin raw (not that you didn’t plan on getting them such a way yourself.) 

“Oh, baby,” You sigh, a light, genuine smile coming to your face. “You look beautiful.”

Keigo must’ve already been pretty deep in it, ducking his head and biting his lip, “Thank you, mommy.”

You smiled at his usage of the proper title, though none of your irritation or anger faded. It was only a few drops of water on a much hotter burn. 

You walked up to the bed, leaning over the end of it to tilt up his face to yours, “Kei’, what’s your safeword?” 

“Quill,” He leaned into your touch, stubbly cheeks brushing against your palms. 

Nodding to yourself, you stepped back from him. Watching Keigo was like observing a moving piece of fine art, the shadows and highlights of his body crafted by some finer being than you. You were just there to tend to him, use him and bend him in the ways you knew he craved.

You fetched the last two parcels from the closet, setting them onto the nearby dresser. Close by and in-sight, teasing the two of you.

 You turned, directly regarding Keigo. He must have been watching you move about the room, eyes rounded and knees spread just right.

“So, tell me, Kei’,” You hummed approaching the bed while popping the buttons on your work blouse. “Have you been a good boy lately?”

His fingers stiffened over the lace of the stockings, stubs twitching behind him, “I... don’t think so.”

You hummed, fully peeling off your top, “Wow, so someone’s finally got some sense to himself now? Mommy’s proud, but it’s a little too late for that.”

Keigo audibly swallowed now that you were barer to him.

Your set was a leather of some sort, black straps adorning and squeezing your frame and flesh in the best ways, linked by o-rings and pretty buckles. If Keigo was in a different mood, he would have half a mind to tug you close by the ring dangling between the slope of your breasts. 

But he wasn’t, he was mommy’s good, sweet brat, and that meant sitting and shutting up unless he wanted this to be worse for himself.  

You tapped your hip, over the slim zipper to your skirt.

“Unzip.” 

Keigo nodded, too quick and too eager as his shaking hands slid the zipper over the curve of your hip.

You stepped back before Keigo could get too much satisfaction from the action, shimming the skirt down your legs—

And the set you had on top kept going.

Garters and black stockings settled over your thighs, perfectly fitted and perfect for you and your perfect body, Keigo just wanted a taste—

You slapped his hand down onto the bed, holding it there and leaning forward with a sickly syrupy smile, “I thought you said you knew you were being a brat, baby boy? Wouldn’t that mean you know not to push your fucking luck—?” 

You left his hand on the duvet with an order to not move it, to which he complied.

And you slipped back over to the dresser, unfurling your last parcels. 

Rope and a pretty new toy.

He didn’t deserve them, they were for you.

The new harness was perfect, custom made to your size, so it sat perfectly over the curves of your thighs and ass. It looked even better when you attached the curved, thick strap to it.

“Is that—”

“For you?” You finished Keigo’s sentence with a click of your tongue. “Maybe. Maybe I’ll just suck on that cute little cock of yours until you’re fucked dry. Maybe, I would let you near my dick. Or, you learn to be a good boy like you say you are—”

You grabbed his jaw in one hand and squeezed, “And you’ll get mommy’s pretty strap?”

...

To his merit, Keigo really, really was being good. 

Each expression of his was just so, so delicious, and that wasn’t even taking into account the beautiful ways his body arched and writhed below you. 

What would the public think if they knew ‘Hawks’ was fucking mama’s boy who craved nothing more than getting stuffed with thick cock and edged until he was crying sweet, sweet tears?

Who knows! You didn’t, and you didn’t fucking care. 

You’d stuffed Keigo with a cute plug as prep, one with a glittering, yellow gem that just looked so good between his pert little ass cheeks. The new rope was put to use as well. Though, the knots were kept mainly to his arms and wrists. The new lingerie was too pretty to hide. You had tied the intricate knots and binds torturously slowly, as you’d be so kind as to attach a small, vibrating egg to the tip of his dick. 

Though, the first thing you did was lock a cock ring at his base with the promise that he ‘wouldn’t be cumming until he was screaming’. 

You had him under you, tits squished to his ribs. Your thighs slotted on the sides of his braced and squeezing him just enough so he knew not to dare to try and move with your word. 

You smeared lube up and down his angrily red cock, thumbing the head. The slick and pre slipped down and stickied his balls and the roughed-up panties tucked beneath. 

Keigo was a fucking mess for it. Whining and gasping with each breath for little, reverent pleas— ‘more, more, more—’ 

His wrists were tied together, pale pink rope making flushed marks against his heat softened skin. They were secured high on the bed, pulling his body taut and flat against the sheets.

You nipped at one of his pierced nipples, tugging the tender bar with your teeth with little regard for how Keigo squealed again. 

Each sound had you dripping, just as needy and wanting as your sweet, sweet boy, but you’d be damned to let it be as apparent as his wanting.

Keigo was a goddamn sight. 

Blond waves stuck to his forehead and temples, cheeks red and lips bitten to cherry. His mouth hung open, drool spilling from the corner and soaking the pillow you graciously kept under his head. 

(Only because you’d ridden his face for a good while prior, and you were such a nice mommy, you gave him a nice cushion while you let him tongue fuck you to another orgasm.)

“M-mommy,” Keigo’s voice shook. “Please.”

You tsked. 

“Disappointing, sweet boy,” You chastised, lightly. Keigo had already wept hard enough, you didn’t need to push much more before he cracked just as you wanted. “You know to beg better.”

Keigo choked on a sob, something that made his bound, stubby wings shudder and writhe against the sheets.

“But, I-I already have,” Keigo sputtered, tugging on the bindings and breathing hard as you toyed with the ring at the base of his swollen cock. “Please.”

He deserved it, all the teasing and sweet torture, considering what a bastard he’d been in the past week. 

“Needy and you’re talking back?” You rolled your eyes. “So what, you want me to ride your cock? That’s too good for you.”

“‘T-too good for me,’” Keigo repeated, tearfully, stomach shaking with the way he was still trying to holding back.

He just needs to let go. Be the shameless cock slut he is. 

“Guess I’ll just fuck that cute little ass of yours until I’m satisfied.”

Keigo gulped as you helped him onto his tummy, bound hands freed from the headboard to brace below him. His back arched, a practice ‘c’ curve that you made dip deeper with a press to the small of back.

“Do better,” You reminded him, cruelly. He stifled another sob, nodding.

He shrieked as you eased the lubed plug from his ass. You poured a gracious amount over the red strap-on, admiring it. 

It was thick, it’d be a stretch and would press deep enough to knock Keigo out if you so chose.

Good.

As much as Keigo loved fucking you hard and fast, wherever and whenever he pleased, he needed this sometimes. A bit of handful (or so) of mean words, and a thick cock to fuck him full and dumb.

“Baby boy,” You cooed, tapping the toy over his blushing bottom. “You ready? Or should we wait—”

The impatient bastard. 

“No, no, no,” Keigo sputtered against the sheets. “I c-can’t mommy, I can’t—”

“Can’t what, baby?”

“I can’t wait!”

It was the concept of waiting any longer for your fat cock that sent him sobbing into the bedding, hiccuping and writhing. 

Keigo, the sweet thing he was, sagged and fell apart. Breaking good and proper, coherency gone. 

You guided him through it, good and proper. 

Truthfully, Keigo had been put through it. The sudden expectations, having him wait his entire day off, tempted by your skimpy little photos. And when you finally deemed him worthy of you, it was just to tease him and pretty cock for a few hours just to let off some of your own steam was cruel. 

But Keigo had been bad, and loved getting used when you both needed it.

His tears must’ve felt damn good, considering when you reached under his hips (while rubbing tender little circles over his spine) his cock was harder than ever, leaking and wet with need.

He seized beneath you, sputtering little ‘n-no’s and ‘p-please’s mixed with his weeping. He twitched in your hand as you ran the pad of your finger around the ring at its base.

“I could take this off,” You mused, pressing the tip of the strap against his hole. “Or—” 

With a slow grind of your hips, you stretched him wide and trembling. 

Keigo’s cries got louder, deeper and rougher as he clasped his hands in their binds. Bent over his body, you teased his cock with a light hand, humming as you nonchalantly fucked him to the hilt of the strap.

“Now, sweet boy,” You nudge your hips flush to his, just barely shifting “If I take this off, can you come for me? I need you to cum for me as much until you can’t anymore. Can you be a good boy?”

After a moment of sniffling, he nodded, “Yes, m-mommy.”

You flicked the clasp on the ring, discarding it and rolling your hips.

And Keigo instantly came. 

With all of that build-up, he shuddered, wings writhing as his back bent harder as he drenched the sheets beneath the two of you.

“My good boy,” You hummed, petting between his wings as he rode it out. “Keep it up.”

And without relenting, you grabbed his wings for leverage and fucked him.

Maybe, it was a little cruel. 

Your pace was set hard and fast, tugging the feathery stubs and enjoying the feel of his round, downy feathers where you held the base. Your grip was the only thing keeping Keigo as he resisted collapsing.

You were nice enough to occasionally reach down and give Keigo a few quick pumps, just enough so he’d crest again, sticking your hand so well and thick. The cum was smeared onto the fatty round of his ass with a slap or two. 

As much as it was a damn treat to see Keigo so fucked up and fucked, you let up when his orgasms were still hot and harsh, but his cock was nearly dry. It hardly sputtered anything, drained and sticky and overstimulated beyond belief.

“N-no more, no more!” Keigo sputtered as he trembled and convulsed with a dry, painful orgasm, your hand still fisting the sore flesh on his cock. 

You knew him well enough to stop then.

Your hips stilled, breath labored, though nothing like Keigo’s teary, nearly-dry sobs. He slowly fell into the sheets, aching body falling with nothing left to give. 

Everything was slow for a moment. 

You pulled out, graciously slow and tender, mindful of his raw state.

With a few skillful tugs, his wrists were free and unbound. Weak arms and shaking hands grabbed for you, needy as ever, but still, you could indulge him. 

‘Mommy, m-mommy, please,” Keigo tried to tug you down into the soaked sheets as you unbuckled the harness from around your hips. 

You raised an eyebrow, “Still needy?”

Keigo choked on something between a sob and scream, nodding and needing. 

(Completely wrecked, just as you craved and planned. He really was good.)

Your heart softened, the energy in the air diffusing as you freed his wings, coaxing them to stretch out and release any remaining bottled up tension.

And you fell into the bed with him, tugging your sweet boy to your chest and peppering kisses over his salt-slicked cheeks.

“You were wonderful dear, my good, sweet boy,” You layered on the praise, enjoying how his shudders came from your words as opposed to the discarded cock. 

Keigo opened his cracked lips but quickly closed them, settling before nuzzling under your chin and practically purring as he came down.

You always knew that you did your job well when Keigo was fucked silent. 

|||||||||||||||

thank you for reading 💞 

ko-fi

#salem writes #hawks x reader #hawks #hawks x you #takami keigo x reader #hawks smut #tw mommy kink #mha x reader #uwu i love indulging and breaking keigo over a good strap #<3

[allyouneedisbuck]

i know, you know.

summary -> bucky would die for you, but that’s not what you want from him.

words -> 1.7k

warnings -> light angst & near death & use of nickname (sweets)

notes -> i started game of thrones & i am obsessed with the idea of medieval bucky now so add that to my wips list

»»————-　☾　————-««

Bucky has no sense of self preservation.

You’re unsure if it’s because when he was a boy he was sent to war where it wasn’t a when you come home, it was an if. Or maybe because he’s lived so long he doesn’t feel like he needs to worry about life.

At first Bucky’s martyr-like care for you had made your pulse race. Throwing himself in front of punches thrown your way and saving you from bullets by reaching out his metal arm.

Then you realized he never thought things through. He just threw himself into harms way without worrying about whether or not he would survive the action.

You’ve learned all this within the two years you’ve known him. He’s become your best friend. Something more than that too. Shared stares and secret kisses that leave your heart fluttering and skin heating.

You love him, the kind of love that bubbles under the surface of kind smiles and more than friendly touches.

The kind that leaves your leg shaking as you sit beside him now, because Bucky Barnes has been asleep for three days.

A bullet had tore through his chest and left him gasping for air and bleeding out at your feet. You had dropped beside him to your knees after sending a bullet through the attackers chest.

“Sam, you’ve got to get us out of here.” You gasp into your comms. “Bucky’s hurt.” Your hands come to rest over the wound and you press harshly against them.

You look around in panic. “You idiot.” You mumble to him. Bucky’s blinking slowly and is obviously in a daze as he tries to focus on you leaning over him. “

“I’ll die before I let someone hurt you.” Bucky whispers. Your hands are stained red and Bucky’s eyes slide shut again after he breathes the words out. You let out a choked cry as you stare down at him.

“He’ll be okay.” Sam’s hand is resting on your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you. “Bucky is a fighter.”

You shake him off. “Bucky is an idiot.” You snap. Your eyes trail over his chest that’s rising and falling steadily.

‘He’s lucky.’ The doctor’s words come to your mind. ‘If it weren’t for that serum he most likely would have bled out in the field.’

You can’t stop thinking about the scene. The tips of your fingers are still stained red, the blood stubbornly refusing to wash away and remains a constant reminder of Bucky’s words in the field.

“Bucky is an idiot with no self preservation.” You start again. The words that had been caught in your throat the past three days come tumbling out like vile. “He’s selfish and doesn’t have any remorse for his choices or any idea what his actions may do to the people who care about him.”

You look at Bucky again. He doesn’t stir. His chest is still rising and falling steadily while his eyes remain closed. “I’m going to get a drink.” You push your chair our abruptly. Sam jumps away from you as you shove past him.

Guilt weighs you down immediately. You hadn’t meant to snap at Sam and you certainly didn’t mean all you said about Bucky.

It’s just - Bucky isn’t supposed to look like that. You had never seen him look so vulnerable. His skin pale and body completely immobile as he sleeps.

It has you panicking. Bucky, your Bucky, was strong and unmoving in a way that left enemies shaking. He had an aura that made you feel warm and confident with him by your side.

The hospital walls are a blank white that leave you simultaneously nauseous and comforted as you rest your back against it and shut your eyes.

Nobody stops to ask if you were okay or if you needed help, many of them too busy or preoccupied with actual patients. It was relieving to be able to have a moment of silence with nothing in your thoughts but what may be going on with the people you watched moves throughout the hospital.

How many were visitors there for a similar reason to yours? How many regular patients or who was a favorite nurse?

Sam’s voice makes you straighten out when you hear your name. You look at him apologetically, but before you can get the words out, he cuts you off. “Bucky’s awake.”

You pause. “Just like that?” You ask dumbly. You knew that this is what would happen. The doctor had explained that Bucky had been placed in an induced coma so his body could heal on it’s own and that he would wake up on his own time.

After three days though, you can’t imagine looking into Bucky’s eyes. You don’t know how to after seeing him so close to death.

“Just like that.” Sam says kindly. “I told you he was a fighter.”

You swallow thickly in an attempt to hold back tears. “I don’t… I’ll be in there soon.” You settle against the wall again.

Softly, Sam speaks, “Soon? He’s asking for you.” He tilts his head in an attempt to get you to look at him, but your eyes stay stuck to the ground. “Nobody ever said Bucky wasn’t an idiot, but he’s an idiot who cares. About you.”

“He can care about me without trying to kill himself!” You exclaim. You shoot an apologetic look toward the nurses who glance over at your voice.

There’s a beat of silence before Sam sighs. “He can. But how is supposed to know that? All Bucky has known is war, maybe in some way saving you from violence is all he knows how to do to show he cares.”

You look away again before you heave out a sigh. Your mind is a scrambled mess of panic, stress and exhaustion. All you want is to go home and forget any of this ever happened.

“I’ll give you some time.” Sam presses a reassuring kiss to the top of your head. “Just talk to him, yeah?”

You nod reluctantly. “I will.” When you don’t move, Sam raises his eyebrows. “Just… Give me a second.” When Sam leaves you in the hallway again, you suck in a deep breath in preparation.

<- ☾ ->

“Sweets.” Bucky smiles softly when he spots you in the doorway. “Been wondering where you were.”

You look him over like you’re expecting to see him covered in blood again. “Needed some air.” You answer curtly.

Bucky watches you quietly as you move further into the room. “Something wrong?”

“I’m glad you’re okay.” You avoid answering the question. Bucky notices you pause at the end of his bed and stares with furrowed brows.

When you don’t say anything else he forces out an awkward chuckle. “I’m always gonna be okay, sweets.”

“That’s not true.” You snap. You heave in a breath as Bucky watches with wide eyes. “You don’t get to just… Just wake up and be fine.”

“I am fine.” Bucky waves his hands out in front of him as if to show you. You shake your head in disbelief. “What? I am!”

“Your blood was on my hands!” You yell, shocking Bucky into silence. “You were bleeding out! Bucky, I had to watch you almost die in my arms. You don’t… You don’t get to sit here and just say you’re fine.”

“Sweets…” Bucky trails off. His eyes move over you like you’re a wild animal and he’s afraid you’ll pounce. It makes you even more upset that you look like the irrational one here.

You look away. “You were bleeding out and there was nothing I could do but watch. I can’t… I can’t do that again.”

“What am I supposed to do?” His voice raises and you know it’s so you’ll look over at him again. “Just let them hurt you?”

There’s a moment of tense silence before you nod. “Yes.”

“I’m not doing that. I can’t and I won’t.” Bucky’s shaking his head wildly at the thought of you getting hurt. “That’s not an option.”

You scoff. You’re still standing at the end of his bed and you can’t bring yourself to move closer. Not with how angry you are at him. “What is this self-sacrificial bullshit? Who does it help?”

“You!” Bucky yells. You’re almost afraid somebody will come in to check on him and find the two of you in the midst of a fight. “I’d rather be in this bed than see you in it.”

You let out a humorless laugh, but it just ends up as an exhausted sigh. “I can’t lose you, Bucky.” You finally admit in a whisper. “I can’t… I need you here, alive.”

Bucky’s eyes soften as you looks you over. “Come here.” Your eyes grow teary as he opens his arms for you crawl in beside him. “Please, sweets. Come lay with me.”

“Bucky…” You sniffle as the beginning of a sentence trails off. You move quickly to lay beside him, careful of the wires. “I don’t want you to die for me.”

His hand runs up and down your arm as your head rests on his shoulder. “This life. My life. It’s been full of violence, I just want to protect you from it.”

“You can protect me without almost dying. I won’t watch you do this again.” You look up at him sadly, the sound of his monitor beeping steadily somehow helps you breathe calmer as you push the words out. “If you want me in your life, you’ll give up this self-sacrificing bullshit.”

Bucky shifts so he can look down at you. “What else should I do?”

“Let me fight on my own. Have faith that I can handle myself.” Your hand trails down to intertwine with his. “If I… If I ever got hurt in the field like this, I’d rather you fight for me than die for me.”

Bucky inhales sharply. “I do have faith in you.” His left hand comes up to rest on your cheek and turn you eyes to face him again. “I know you’re a good fighter. I just… I…”

“I know.” You agree. The words are clear in his eyes and the nervous smile on his face. “I just need you to promise me, no more being a martyr. I don’t need anything else right now.”

Bucky’s thumb gently runs over your cheek bone. “I promise to try.” You allow your eyes to shut as Bucky leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

There are words unspoken between you two. Things that should be said and talked about, but it can wait. You’re content to lay with him, like this, for now.

»»————-　☾　————-««

notes -> just a short bucky piece while i work on my longer fics! next part of the survivor series should be out soon.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #james bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes writing #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #sam wilson

[dhwty-writes]

A Touchy One

Is this incredibly self-indulgent? Yes. Am I posting this anyways? Also yes! I dug this up somewhere in my WIP folder and decided this deserves to be finished.

This is the first thing I've posted in forever, and I know (and am sorry) that it's no OWBABH update (that will come, too, I promise), but take this in the meantime. I am finally feeling like writing again, so here's to hoping I won't take as long next time. Have fun reading!

Summary:  The bard is a touchy one, which is an odd travel companion to have, especially for a witcher. It isn't that Geralt minds so much as that he startled terribly the first time it happened.

Or: how two people, who do not like being touched learn to enjoy each other's closeness, featuring a sex-repulsed Jaskier and our resident grumpy witcher.

Warnings: none, as far as I’m aware

Read on AO3

The bard is a touchy one, which is an odd travel companion to have, especially for a witcher. It isn't that Geralt minds so much as that he startled terribly the first time it happened.

It has been scarcely more than a brush of his fingertips across his forearm, but still Geralt did jump and scoot away as if burned. He even faintly remembers growling quietly, although he's not quite sure if that was a later addition of his mind. He distinctly remembers the surprised, and slightly hurt expression on Jaskier's face, though.

After that, there has been no touching for quite some time. Until one night, when Geralt returned from a contract too tired to rid himself of his armour and simply flopped face down onto the bed in the inn they were staying at. Jaskier drew close, hesitantly hovering at his side, one hand extended. "May I?" he asked quietly.

The bard patiently waited for his grunt of approval, before hauling him upright, deftly unbuckling his armour and putting it away. Geralt was half asleep during the whole process, leaning his forehead against Jaskier's shoulder, while fighting the urge to pull him close.

The bard is a touchy one, and although that seemed odd and startled Geralt in the beginning, it now is the most natural thing in the world. Because the thing is, the bard isn't necessarily a touchy one. He is a spacey one. Comes with the profession, he guesses.

Wherever Jaskier goes, he brings a stage with him, announcing his presence with loud songs and colours as well as grand gestures, uncaring for other people's opinions. It is only natural, that with every other spread of his arms he brushes against someone. And it's also mostly natural that, as his travelling companion, those touches mostly reach Geralt.

Just as natural as touching him in return. In fact, it is the most natural thing in the world. There is seldom a moment when the bard isn't touching him, be it a hand on his forearm, an elbow nudging his side, or his dirty feet in his lap. And it isn't as if the bard is the only one to initiate that kind of intimacy. Geralt delights in throwing an arm around his friend's shoulder, steadying him with a reassuring hand on his back after he had too much to drink, or wrestling him into a river. He especially delights in waking up cuddled close to his bard, their limbs and scents intertwining, both of them too lazy to start the day.

He can't remember when that had started, if he's quite honest. He thinks it was maybe five years after they first met, that they arrived at an inn tired and battered, as well as soaking wet from the thunderstorm outside only to discover that there was only one bed left.

After tucking the witcher into bed, the bard threatened to slip from his grasp. "Jaskier," Geralt slurred after a failed attempt to grab his wrist.

"Yes, dear witcher?"

"C'me 'ere." Geralt doesn't quite remember the motion accompanied by his words, too much asleep for that already, but according to Jaskier he made 'grabby hands'. Despite that embarrassing escapade, the bard beamed and indulged him, slipping into the single bed next to him and cradling him tight to his chest. Geralt never slept so soundly in his entire life.

 He thought that he would mind, if he is honest. He never liked anyone invading his space before, and Jaskier is nothing if not invading. It took them a bit to establish some boundaries, to find out what made the other snarl and pull back or vanish come morning. Geralt doesn't like his potions to be messed with and Jaskier is very protective of his notebook. Geralt prefers to be cuddled instead of doing the cuddling part and Jaskier allows no hands from his hips to his knees, although he doesn't mind waking up with Geralt draped over him from chest to toe.

Other taboos soon soften until they are abandoned completely. Like the bag-sharing ban, for example, or clothes. In the first few months of cuddles and touches, Jaskier enacted his strict shirts-and-pants-required-policy with vigour, only to be the one to ultimately forego it. Geralt still smiles at the memory.

It was an especially hot summer, maybe a decade into their acquaintance and Geralt just wrestled the bard into a clear creek. They were sodding wet, Jaskier huffing indignantly, in nothing but their smallclothes, too lazy to dry off if the sun was about to do the work anyways. Seeing him standing there, shaking his wet hair, his hands on his hips, did something funny to Geralt's stomach. As if it dropped and lifted at the same time.

Before knew what he was doing, he tossed Jaskier his clothes. "Get dressed," he ordered gruffly and spread his arms, "and come here."

Jaskier looked at the garments in his hands and sneered. "Oh, fuck no," he spat out. "You want a hug, Geralt of Rivia?" He threw the dirty clothes back at him and spread his arms. "Come and get it."

Geralt let them hit him. Although that also might have been the shock of Jaskier so readily abolishing his most adamant requirement. "You sure?"

"Yes, I'm bloody sure, you daft witcher. Now come here before I dry and start melting again."

Geralt has never been so quick to comply to a request. He lunged to tackle Jaskier to the ground, happily sprawling across him until they were both sweaty again. He was shoved off unceremoniously and then coerced into another bath in the river.

That night they didn't bother to get dressed either. Not when setting up their camp next to the creek, not when Jaskier got out his lute, not when Geralt started cooking their dinner. Certainly not when going to sleep.

Maybe it ought to feel weird. It's a weird thing to embrace your friend like a lover, is it not? It didn't, though. It doesn't. In fact, it feels like most natural thing in the world.

The bard is a touchy one. But that is not the reason why he is odd. The reason why he is odd, is his reaction to being touched in turn. He often startles and pulls away, just like Geralt has.

They are lying in bed one evening, entangled like they always are, Jaskier on Geralt's chest (the bard insisted they swap for once), Geralt carding his fingers through his bard's hair. There was a performance, earlier that day, and Jaskier made the acquaintance of a nice-looking gentleman. Geralt resigned himself already to the fact that he would go to bed alone that night.

But then, the man reached out to place a hand on Jaskier's knee. The bard froze up and a moment later he was plastered against his witcher's side, insisting they go to bed. It is a strange behaviour, although not the first time he has seen Jaskier react that way. The question burns on his tongue and, of course, Jaskier notices.

"What is it?"

Geralt tenses beneath him. Fifteen years and still not brave enough to ask. "Hm."

"Don't be daft," the bard chides, "we both know something's on your mind. Out with it."

There's no evading a determined bard, Geralt discovered that a long time ago. "You... don't like to be touched," he notices. Which is an odd thing to say to the half-naked man sprawled across his chest, with his ankles hooked around his calves. But they are odd people and an odd pair, so that's neither here nor there.

He is quiet for a long time. Such a long time, in fact, that Geralt feels the need to check with a quiet "Jaskier?" if he hasn't fallen asleep.

"Hm," the bard replies quietly. "That's not strictly true."

"Not strictly untrue either."

Jaskier sighs with a resignation of a man who knows he cannot hide, but doesn't particularly want too either. Still, it takes him a long time to reply: "I don't mind the touching. I... am not a great fan of what comes after."

Geralt freezes, his fingers tangled in Jaskier's hair, trying and failing to decipher that statement. "What comes after?"

"Oh, you know..." Jaskier makes a very illustrative gesture.

"Ah." Yes, he knows what comes after. He is, in fact, a great fan of what comes after. "You mean you don't like men?"

"Oh no, don't get me wrong. I like men and women well enough, just... not in my bed."

He frowns and looks down again at the man sprawled across his chest who must surely notice his heart beating rapidly. "Jaskier..."

"Hm?"

"I'm in your bed."

"Yes, I know, but that's different. I don't like them naked in my bed."

"Jaskier," he says again, glancing down at their almost naked bodies pressed together.

"Oh, shut up, you great oaf," he hisses and grins. "You know what I mean. And you're... different."

"Hm. Why?"

"I don't know." Jaskier sighs and pushes his hair out of his face. "You just are. Never tried to shove your dick into me, for starters. Or tried to coax me to shove my dick into you."

He shrugs. "Never thought you'd be interested."

"I'm not. Are you?"

He shrugs again. "Does it matter, if you aren't?"

"I guess it doesn't. Still, are you?"

"Jaskier," he chides softly and does his best not to squirm under his inquisitive gaze. But the bard is unrelenting. Geralt sighs and raises his eyebrows as he answers. "You... are a very attractive man. I would gladly suck your cock, or let you suck mine, if you were so inclined. Seeing as you aren't... I would rather refrain from it, if it's all the same to you." He smiled and splayed his fingers over Jaskier's shoulder. "I assure you, not the most proficient cocksucking in the world could grant me greater bliss than I am in right now. There is nothing in the world that could persuade me to give up what we have, especially not something as insignificant as a roll in the hay."

"Oh." Jaskier's shoulders sag and for a moment Geralt fears he's said something wrong. But then a bright smile spreads on his bard's face that is mirrored by his own a moment later. "That's a relief. And thank you. I guess."

Geralt snorts, amused. "You're welcome." After a moment of silence, he adds: "Jaskier? You're different for me, too."

"I am?" The bard beams at him. "How so?"

He has to be exhausted. Or drunk. Or both. There is no other explanation for the next words that leave his mouth. "Because I love you," he hears himself say, to his own mortification.

But Jaskier just smiles and closes his eyes. "Oh," he breathes and languidly squirms closer, like a cat basking in the sun. Then, after a mortifying moment that feels like an eternity, with Geralt's heart thundering in his chest, he replies: "I love you, too, Geralt of Rivia."

He breathes out, relieved, and opts for holding his bard tighter. That's always a good option. It just feels right to share their space and share their silence. Natural. 

He's not sure how long the quiet lasts before, for once, he's the one to break it: "Are we lovers?" Geralt asks suddenly, the question that has been occupying his mind for the past few minutes.

Jaskier sleepily blinks up at him. "Do you want us to be? I'm sure you could find a person better—"

"No, I don't think so," he interrupts him without hesitating.

Jaskier smiles again and it's a sweet expression, one that makes his heart speed up and his face go soft. "If we were lovers, Geralt...," he says after a while, "what would that mean for us?"

"You mean, what would change?"

"Yes."

"Hm." He gives him a long glance. "You said you are averse to naked people in your bed."

"I am," Jaskier confirms. 

"Are you also averse to clothed people kissing you?"

Geralt feels stupid while asking it. Apparently, it is very stupid, for Jaskier immediately starts laughing. "No, my dear," he replies after having calmed down, "I am not averse to clothed people kissing me."

"In that case, I would like to kiss you from time to time."

"Like when?" Jaskier props himself up on an elbow and his lips curl into a different smile, one that's more teasing, more flirtatious than the soft expression before.

"Like now," he says before he can change his mind. 

Jaskier hums and reaches out slowly, so that he cups Geralt's face with his hand, tracing his cheekbone with his thumb. Then, he leans in, just as slowly, and presses his lips to the witcher's in a sweet kiss. 

"Good?" Geralt asks when he pulls away.

"Good," Jaskier confirms. 

"Good." He allows himself to smile as well, bright and unguarded like his bard taught him, and pulls him against his chest again. Once they're settled, he says, feeling a little silly: "I suppose I would also like a love poem or two, master poet."

"Oh, Geralt." Jaskier smooths a hand down his side and feels around until he finds Geralt's hand and can interlace their fingers. "Are you so daft as not to realise that each and every one of my poems for you's a love poem?" he mumbles and presses a kiss to his knuckles.

Warmth spreads in his chest again and he smiles. "I had hoped," he replies and returns the gesture, "but I did not dare to presume." After a moment he adds: "Thank you."

"Always, love," Jaskier replies. "Now go to sleep. I'm knackered."

Feeling relieved and relaxed, holding his bard—his lover!— close, Geralt does.

The bard is a touchy one. And an odd one, although not for his relationship to touches. He's an odd one for loving a witcher. But said witcher is an odd and touchy one as well, so it's alright. In fact, it is the most natural thing in the world.

#my writing #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraskier fanfiction #the witcher fanfiction #geraltxjaskier #geralt/jaskier