#Wait fuck LET ME CHANGE THE POLL TIME SHIT

[i-favor-rui]

Halfway finished (revising some stuff and making sure this is close to canon) with the Kieran fic but I never asked:

#pokemon kieran #polls #pokemon teal mask #i know a bunch of people want this #but I also want to ensure this will be high quality #don’t want to pump something out that I’m not even sure about posting #also sorry for the delays I uh have to work often now #and uh I may have been scrolling through seventeen fics just to analyze their formats and how close to canon and stuff #(okay fine I was enjoying them too) #Also I got new manga books for ‘cant stop cursing you’ #Wait fuck LET ME CHANGE THE POLL TIME SHIT

[spookysteddie]

Call It What You Want

Modern!Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Influencer!reader

18+ Minors DNI

part two

cw: unsupportive parents, hint at mentally abusive mother, negative media attention, talk of sex tape, food mentions (they go on a dinner date), reader is in therapy. (Let me know if I missed anything)

wc: 2.8k

a/n: I've decided to make this a series that is loosely based off of reputation by Taylor swift. It literally all came to me in a dream last night lmao. If anyone has requests for these two and wants me to create lore pleeeeaaaseee request it. This is so fun for me!

...

Do not disturb was the best thing that could’ve ever been added to phones. Specifically because, without it, you would’ve gotten less sleep than you did (thanks to Eddie). 

Your phone is filled with messages, emails from the press asking for comments and messages from your parents. You’re barely awake before checking the tabloids and, as expected, you and Eddie are the top headlines. Everyone has something to say about your escapades last night, videos of you at the concert, photos of you getting out of the car with him and videos from the club. 

Social media influencer and rockstar Eddie Muson seen out together since miss Asher confessed her love for him

Good girl y/n Asher and Bad Boy Eddie Muson spotted together 

Is y/n Asher going down a dark path?

Social Media influencer shedding her good girl image as she parties with Corroded Coffin

You knew there would be some drama associated with you partying with the band. You knew there would be fans who would be disappointed in you. You also knew there was a high possibility someone would have photos of you around little white lines, leading to some assumptions about you. 

You didn’t care. 

You check your parents texts next and your stomach drops.

Momma: What are you doing out with that man?! Do you know his reputation? 

Papa: The last thing you need is your reputation being ruined! You will ruin your future if you continue with him.

The phone is taken out of your hand before you can respond to them, Eddie locking it and placing it behind you before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. He nuzzles his face into your neck, leaving light kisses on your bare skin. 

“You shouldn’t read what those pricks have to say.” He continues to leave kisses along your skin, “most of them talk out of their asses and don’t understand.” 

He’s right, of course you know that. You’ve had the most misogynistic shit written about you that you knew they would never write about the man behind you. You could smile weird and all of a sudden you’re the biggest cunt ever. You can never win. 

You sigh, settling into his hold. It’s not that you care about your reputation, shit like that changes faster than the weather and it’s not worth it to stress about it. But also, this is your job and the last thing you need is to lose sponsorships because you’re fucking Eddie. 

“I know. It’s just annoying cause no one is writing mean shit about you. It’s always about me and my life.” 

He hums, “nothing like good old fashion misogyny.” He says it with a shit load of sarcasm, knowing misogyny is not a good thing at all. But it makes you giggle all the same. 

“Wait!” You sit up, almost smacking him in the face with your head, “the poll! I wanna see it.” 

He grins as he hands you your phone. You ignore your parents, deciding you’ll deal with them later, and open up instagram. You win by a landslide, 86% of your followers voted you as prettier. 

Eddie laughs behind you. You turn to look at him, a huge grin on your face, “you owe me a date, Munson.” 

His eyes fall to your lips, making you lean in a little closer, “hows tomorrow sound?”

“Perfect,” you whisper as you close the gap and kiss him. 

… 

You can’t avoid your parents by the time you get home. They’ve been calling you for hours (hours you spent tangled up with Eddie in his bed). You know for a fact that it’ll be worse if you continue to ignore them. 

They answer within the first ring, “About time you called us back. We’ve been calling you for hours!” 

“Yes, momma, I know. I was busy with Case and Anna.” 

You hear her exasperated sigh from your mother, “yeah? For what? Cleaning up the mess you made last night?”

You’re trying to keep your composure, not wanting to yell at your mother, no matter how many times she made you feel horrible about any little decision you made. She was still your mother. 

“Case and Anna knew about all of that. Ran it by them first like I’m supposed to do.” 

Your mothers attitude only grows, “so what they just approved of you running around with someone known to do drugs? Are you doing drugs? So help me God, y/n, if I find out your doing drugs, I will fly out th-” 

“Mom, I am not doing drugs. I went to his show, somewhere I’ve been before by the way, and then we went to a club. Which is something I do on the weekends anyway. I don’t see the big deal.” 

You hear her huff, “don’t you dare give me attitude, little girl.” You hate when she calls you that. It’s been her little tool your entire life. She's done it to make you feel small, to make you feel insignificant and, try as you might, it gets to you. 

“You better not be seen with him again, got it?” 

You can feel the anger getting to you, “mom, I am 25 years old. I don’t need you to tell me who I can and cannot date. He was very respectful actually. Didn’t pressure me to do anything. Now, I have some things to film before tonight.” You hang up before she can say anything else, throwing your phone onto your vanity and running your hands down your face.  

Hana clears her throat from where she’s leaning against the door frame. You know she heard that entire conversation. You’d told her when you got home everything, including your parents non-stop calling.

She hands you a coffee, made just how you like, “how was that?” 

You take a slow sip, savoring the sweetness, “same old mom. Thinks I’m ruining my life and my reputation.” 

“Well, do you think you’re ruining your life and reputation?” 

This is one thing you love about Hana is she doesn’t baby you. Ever. She always allows you room to feel your feelings before she gives you her opinion. But she also makes sure you are able to give a name to what you’re feeling. And right now, you’re feeling frustrated. 

“No. Hana, he was amazing. He was respectful and he always asked what I wanted. And god the sex was fantastic,” you sigh wistfully. “And we’re going out on a date tomorrow. Just him and I. And I was really excited but of course my mother likes to ruin everything.” 

Hana sits on the chair next to the vanity, taking your hand, “Listen to me, if you have a good feelin’ about it, I say go for it. I didn’t get any strange feelings or vibes last night, the opposite really. Also, fuck a reputation. Taylor Swift’s was six feet in the ground and look at her now. Do what makes you happy.” 

You can feel the tightness in your chest, backs of your eyes burning. All you can do is pull her into a bone crushing hug.

… 

You’re pretty much over your mothers comments by the next night. Of course your therapist heard all the details and said, basically, exactly what Hana did. She also told me that I am an adult and I am more than able to make my own choices when it comes to things like drugs and alcohol.

She’s right of course. 

And so, because of this realization that isn’t a realization, you keep the date with Eddie. In fact you’re more than excited to go. To see him again. You filmed all your content, posting the other nights ‘spend the day with me’ video you made.

You’ve even gained a shit ton of followers as well, most of them fans of the bands. Now, don’t get it twisted, the uptick in followers also means an uptick in hate comments and unfollows. You don’t care. Those people are entitled to follow whoever they want and the mean people clearly just have a lot going on in life. It comes with the territory. 

Eddie, however, has texted you non stop and follows every single social media account you have. Even commenting on the videos and photos you posted. That got the press talking more and birthed a shit ton more butterflies into your belly. 

Eddie didn’t give you much information on what this date would be. All he told you was to dress nice and bring a jacket because it’s ‘getting chilly and you can’t catch a cold.’ You tried explaining that’s not how colds work but he wasn’t having it. And so, you pick out one of your favorite dresses, short and black that makes your tits look killer, with stockings that snap onto a garter hidden under your dress. Of course you added a long trench coat just to keep you warm. 

Eddie picks you up at 7pm on the dot, not a second later. Again, the bar is in hell because the fact that he is on time makes you want to kick your feet like a little girl. He looks delicious, dressed in his black jeans and a black button up. He grins when you open the door, the chilly night air tickling your legs.

“Give me a spin, Miss Asher,” he smiles. 

He takes your hand, spinning you around a few times. Once semi quickly and once very slowly, drinking you in like he’s been in the desert for years. It’s kindling to the fire inside your heart, warming you from the inside out. 

“God, you’re so beautiful.” He kisses your cheek, never letting go of your hand. 

You can feel your entire body heat, a shudder wracking through you. “You’re beautiful too. So, so, pretty.” 

You watch a blush tinge his cheeks, “no one has ever called me pretty to my face… and meant it.” 

He opens the door to his car as he speaks, making sure you don’t hit your head getting in before running around to the other side and settling in the driver's seat.

“Well, for the record, I do mean it. I mean, who in the hell looks that gorgeous first thing in the morning?” You giggle as you say it, fiddling with the hem of your dress. 

He takes your hand, squeezing it twice, “you.” 

That makes you smile the entire way to the restaurant. 

… 

This is the most beautiful date you’ve ever been on. 

Eddie had it all planned out perfectly. There was no press standing outside, waiting to take candid shots. He rented out the entire restaurant so that there would be no interruptions, just you and him and the small waitstaff. Flowers litter the floor, a small walkway leading to the table, a bottle of your favorite wine sitting in ice. 

You smile, looking up at him with hearts in your eyes. He can feel his heart racing, scared you aren’t going to like it or it’s too much or he’s scared you away. It feels like it’s forever before you answer him. “This is beautiful, Eddie. You didn’t… you didn’t have to do all this. But it’s so appreciated.” 

He gives you a swift kiss, his heart feeling like it’s going to burst, “you deserve it. You deserve to feel appreciated and cared for.” 

“Well, that is exactly how I feel right now.”  

Eddie pulls out your chair, letting you sit before he takes his own. The candles on the table flicker, casting Eddie in the most beautiful glow ever. He’s radiant, beautiful, and you don’t know how anyone could hate him. You felt like you could see his soul when he looks at you, kind, sweet, angelic. 

The waiter interrupts your thoughts, introducing himself and pouring the wine. And once all the food is ordered, it’s just you and Eddie. Suddenly, you’re nervous. 

“Did you have a good day yesterday?” You cringe slightly at the generic question. You’d talked to him all day yesterday between filming and his studio time. Releasing a new album takes a lot of time, more time than more people would think. 

“It was good. I feel like we finally have the sound we’re going for nailed down. S’gonna be similar to what we always do, of course. But I felt like, based off the songs we wrote, we needed a more,” he sipped his wine, thinking about how to describe the sound. “... sensual sound. Sexy if you will.” 

You giggle a little, “so you basically wrote about your groupies.” You’re joking, of course, not really caring about the people who came before you. Kind of. 

He raises his brows, shaking his head, “no. I actually spent most of yesterday rewriting the songs I wrote. Not all of them, but a good few.” 

“Oh! So did you record at all yesterday?” Again, it’s a generic question, but you’re genuinely interested in the process and how his mind works. 

He nods, “we did! It’s fucking thrilling to get what’s in my brain into actual art. I can’t believe I get to do this for a job.” 

Eddie's eyes practically sparkle as he talks about how exciting his job is. You love to see it, honestly. It’s the same look he gets when he’s on stage, fans screaming and singing the songs he wrote back to him. You can imagine that’ll get someone real high. 

He interrupts your thoughts, “can I ask you a question?”

You freeze, stomach falling to your ass. It’s never good when someone starts off like that. You grab your wine trying to hide your shaking hands, “yes of course!” 

“To me, it feels like there is something missing in a few of the songs. I’m pretty sure it’s y-your voice,” his stutter makes you feel a little better inside. He’s nervous. “So I was wondering if you’d wanna record some things with me?”

“Eddie, I can’t sing.” 

He smirks because you didn’t say no. “You don’t have to. I just need your voice. For the record, when I say record some things with me I don’t mean like sex videos… unless you’re into that.” You both laugh at how ridiculous he is, but a small pulse between your thighs tells you that you might be into making a little movie for just you and him. 

“While sex videos could be fun, that shit is so scary. Anyone can hack into whatever we use and boom… careers over. As for my voice, absolutely. I’m honored actually.” And you are. To have your voice be on something forever is so fucking cool. Of course, the internet is forever, but to you, it’s different when it’s music. 

“One more question…” 

You nod, motioning for him to continue. 

“Can I use your moans in a song?” 

You nearly choke on your wine, eyes going wide. “My-my moans? Like from when we have sex?” 

“Mhm. They are so fucking beautiful, baby. As much as I want to keep every part of you for myself, your moans would fit perfectly in this one song I have.” 

You have to be 50 shades of fucked up because you’re actually fucking touched that he thinks that part of you is pretty enough to put in his music. No one has to know if they’re real or not. And you don’t even have to answer the questions if anyone asks if it’s you. 

You laugh, shaking your head, “you, Eddie Munson, are crazy. I’m here for it but do you think your fans will like it? I don’t want you to do this just because we fucked the other night. I like you and you don’t have to put my anything in songs to get me to stick around. I don’t just like you because you make music.” 

He looks a little stunned, almost like he doesn’t believe you. “I… you don’t have to lie, baby. I mean, fuck, I’m not trying to call you a liar. I just am not used to people liking me as me. Usually they just want me because then it’s like a bragging thing. Not that, that’s what you are here for. Fuck, I am really fucking this up.” He rubs the back of his neck, his other hand clenched. 

You grab that hand, forcing yours into it and rubbing your thumb on his wrist, “I understand what you mean, Eddie. I’m not offended. But I mean what I said. I’m not here to further my career. I’m here because I’ve had a sickening crush on you for years. My poor friends have had to listen to me go on and on about it.” You laugh, feeling your face heat as you confess all this to him. 

“Really?” He looks like a boy, big, brown puppy eyes staring up at you. 

You nod, “really. Hana was ready to throw me a party because I finally got a date with you.”  

He laughs, the sound loud and from his belly. 

You decide right then that you will do whatever it takes to keep him forever.

#stranger things #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #Eddie Munson fluff #Eddie Munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #modern!rockerstar!eddie munson x influencer!fem!reader #Eddie Munson imagine #eddie munson x you #corroded coffin #stranger things au

[unreliablesnake]

Animals (Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader)

Summary: Ghost hates you. But he's also slightly obsessed with you. This duality leads to an encounter that satisfies his needs, but only releases the beast inside.

Note: Based on this poll and Maroon 5's song Animals. I hope you'll like this. Tell me what you think.

Part 2

Warnings: toxic!Ghost, afab!reader, p in v, oral sex (m receiving), deepthroat, unprotected sex, etc. MINORS DNI!!!

You ending up in the 141 was a punishment. Well, at least it felt like it. Every time you moved, you felt Ghost's darkened eyes following you suspiciously, making sure you didn't do anything stupid, anything that could compromise the task force.

You had worked together in the past, before this team was even assembled, and you went against his order on that mission. He was fucking pissed, refusing to talk to you because otherwise he would have yelled at you without stopping. He didn't tell you why exactly he was mad, after all the mission was a success despite your disobedience.

And now he held a grudge, making you uncomfortable with the heavy silence whenever you were left alone somewhere. You tried to avoid him, desperately clinging to the other members of the team to be saved, but somehow he always found a way to make you feel like shit.

"Behave out there," he once barked as he looked over at you gearing up before leaving the base.

That was all he said. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Price give him a disapproving look, but that didn't seem to bother him. He just returned his attention to his vest, checking if everything was in place. Soap asked him why he was so mad, but Ghost ignored him.

Under the quiet surface the lieutenant was fuming from anger, feeling desperate now that he had to babysit you on the field. He had tried to convince Price to let you work with him and Gaz, hoping this way he would have to spend as little time with you as it was absolutely necessary. But it didn't work and he was stuck with you.

You were annoying, and reckless, and disobedient, but god damn it, you were so hard to resist. A deeply hidden part of his brain was craving you, flashing images of you being naked in his bed, whimpering pathetically as he fucked you.

It was excruciating, having these opposite feelings for you. One half hated you and would have given everything to be able to cut you out of his life entirely, while his other half wanted to own every inch of you.

When the mission was over, things returned to normal. You went home, relieved to be able to spend some time away from his judging eyes. You went to a beauty salon to have your hair done, you did some grocery shopping, and once you got back to your apartment, you cooked yourself a delicious meal.

It was such a nice change, just sitting at the dining table with the plate in front of you, a glass of wine waiting for you to drink it, and your favorite playlist playing in the background. Nights like this you considered quitting, giving up your current lifestyle to have a relatively normal life. Maybe you could finally have a stable relationship, something more meaningful than a string of one-night stands.

Later you poured yourself another glass of wine and went to the living room, getting lost in the rhythm of the music your body swayed to without thinking. You were having fun on your own, for the first time in months feeling good in your skin. No evil glares, no rude comments. Only the safety of your home.

What you couldn't know was that you weren't completely alone. From down the street, Ghost was watching you, his phone's camera focusing on you before snapping some photos. Photos he would store on a safe drive at home, hidden in secret folders along with the hundreds if not thousands of pictures he had taken of you in secret.

He wondered if you knew everyone could see you in nothing but your lingerie, a piece of clothing that wrapped around your skin so perfectly that the sight made his mouth water under the mask.

Ghost was the predator and you were his prey, the innocent little animal having no idea that a beast like him was stalking her. If you knew, you would probably run and hide, but he would find you, after all he could smell your scent from miles.

When you turned off the lights and probably went to bed finally, he went home as well and spent the rest of the night lying awake in bed, thinking about you with his hand tightly wrapped around his cock, pumping slowly as he imagined finally having you the way he wanted.

The next day he was in front of your apartment again, knowing perfectly well you had only gone to a bakery across the street to get something for breakfast. While on a mission about a year ago, around the same time his twisted obsession with you had begun, he stole your phone and installed a software to keep track of your whereabouts.

He hated himself for feeling this way about you, he despised this primal need to have you pinned under his body. It was all so vulgar, so obscene that he tried not to think about it when he was on a mission. But when he was home? Then he would let his needs loose, which usually ended up with him following you around.

Today was shopping day. You went to buy some clothes apparently, and while he waited for you outside the stores, Ghost couldn't help but imagine the way you undressed in the fitting room. He wished he could see you strip for him, slowly getting rid of your clothes, taking them off one by one before throwing them into a corner.

You met a friend for lunch, the two of you chatting casually about their relationship issues, even gossiping about friends you both knew. Who dated who, who had a new job, plastic surgery, family issues, and so on. It was all so normal that you couldn't thank them enough for their time.

What you didn't talk about was work. Your job, specifically. The tiring months away from home, the constant sense of danger, the sleepless nights in uncomfortable cots and beds, and the disappointed looks you constantly got from your superior.

Because Ghost was always in the back of your mind, the look he gave you whenever his eyes landed on you engraved in your brain. It was suffocating you, giving you barely enough time to fully relax. Alcohol could help, but you didn't want to turn yourself into an alcoholic just to get through the day.

After you got home you began to binge-watch rom-coms from the early 2000s, completely forgetting about time along the way. You were only snapped out of this sweet haze when your doorbell rang, reminding you that people outside this apartment existed.

Your good mood evaporated the moment you opened the door and found yourself looking at Ghost's tall frame, his tattooed forearm resting on the doorframe as he looked down at you. You opened your mouth to say something, to find out what in the hell he was doing there, but no sound left your throat.

The lieutenant had enough of waiting and simply let himself in, pushing you out of the way to enter. As he had sat in the cafe across the street about an hour ago, keeping an eye on the main entrance of the building, Ghost thought about what to do with you.

"We need to sort things out," he announced when you closed the door and slowly dragged yourself closer to him.

You froze like a deer in the headlights, your big beautiful eyes slowly blinking at him as if you didn't understand a word he said. Then he noticed a glint in your eyes, as if you'd just woken up from a dream.

"Get the fuck out of my place. We'll sort this out when we're on a mission," you said angrily, your voice surprisingly stern as you spoke.

You were confident now, okay. He could handle that. He could sure as hell fuck this confidence out of you. Without hesitation he pushed off his mask then put a hand on the back of your neck, pulling you into a messy and hungry kiss. You tried to resist, to push him away, but he only used his free hand to stop you from squirming around.

In a matter of short minutes you stopped resisting him, giving up your common sense and giving in to the need he knew you also felt. It had to end this way, there was no other ending to your story. When he gently bit your lower lip, a deep moan escaped your throat, a sound that only made it harder to behave.

"I hate you," you breathed between kisses.

It was okay. He didn't need you to love him or even like him. What he felt wasn't love. It was lust with a hint of some dangerous obsession, something he simply couldn't control. "The feeling's mutual, love. But let's be honest, you're enjoying it just as much as I do."

And damn it, he was right. His kiss, his touch was intoxicating, making you feel so good in such a short amount of time. When he asked you where the bedroom was, you immediately told him, this time obeying him without thinking.

He undressed you, taking away each piece of clothing with care, his fingers exploring the skin they had been hiding all along. When you were standing in front of him completely naked, he ordered you to lie down on the bed with your head hanging down over the edge. Deep down you knew what he wanted to do, and it made you excited.

As you got into position, he quickly undressed himself, revealing his hard, throbbing cock that made your mouth water. You were a little worried, having no idea if his length would fit into your mouth, and already knowing your jaw would hurt after this. But you wanted to do it, you wanted him to use your mouth and throat like a fleshlight.

And Ghost was more than happy to give you what you were waiting for, he also needed this to ease the excitement that was slowly killing him. He took his cock in his hand, stroking it a few times to cover it with his pre-cum before reaching out with his free hand to pry your pretty mouth open. "Open up, baby," he told you.

You obediently did what he ordered, and he slowly pushed the head between your lips, at first just warming you up with small thrusts. But then he dived in deeper, going until the tip reached your throat, making you gag a little.

That didn't stop him, though, he kept fucking your mouth without hesitation. "Fuck, you're such a good little slut, taking my cock like this," he groaned, his hand stroking your cheek. Once he knew you relaxed enough to take him so well, he reached out to tease your cunt, brushing it with his palm, enjoying the wetness that covered his hand.

You could feel the tears form in your eyes as he kept going, wondering how long you would be able to have him in you without feeling your jaw being too sore for it. But when he touched you, all of your doubt disappeared, giving space to the need to have his long fingers inside you, fucking you on both sides.

When he finally began to pump his fingers inside you, you moaned against his cock, a sound that made him groan. "You like it? I can do this all day to you, sweetheart," he said, out of breath. He was close, you could feel it, but you weren't too far behind thanks to his experienced fingers.

It was embarrassing to even think about this happening to you. It wasn't the sex that bothered you, more that it was him from all people. Ghost hated you, you knew he had been honest when he told you that, and you weren't lying either. But this was different, this was so dirty and primal, something you definitely wouldn't tell anyone.

Something that shouldn't happen again.

But now you enjoyed it. You loved to feel his cum on your face when he came, while your juices were dripping out of you, covering his fingers that kept fucking you through your orgasm.

When he was done, he went to the bathroom to get a towel so he could clean your face, an act that was surprisingly tender. He kept telling you what a good girl you'd been, how much he enjoyed having you like this. "It's probably the tension between us. Hate sex suits us," he offered a possible explanation with the hint of a smile.

It didn't take him long to get hard again, and he picked you up like a ragdoll and tossed you into the position he wanted you to be in for him. Ass in the air, resting your weight on your forearms. That's what he wanted, admiring the view of your cunt that was still glistering from the remains of your high.

He couldn't hold himself back, he simply couldn't wait to let you get used to his girth, to slowly and carefully stretch you for himself. Instead he pushed all of length inside with one thrust, the tip reaching your cervix and drawing a pathetic cry out of you. He loved this sound, it only made him go on harder, soon picking up a steady pace.

His hands were gripping your hips so tightly that you just knew it would leave a bruise behind, but you didn't mind, not as long as he made you feel this good. He was pushing you close to your limit, testing how much you could take without breaking.

Your forehead hit the mattress, teeth sinking into your hand to bite back your moans, for some reason thinking you had to be quiet because of your neighbors. But Ghost wasn't fond of the muffled noises apparently, because he reached out to pull your head away from your hand. "I wanna hear you, love," he said quietly.

His breathing suddenly changed, a telltale sign that he was close to his own climax. He put one hand on your stomach, and another arm around your neck to pull you up against his chest, his pace never slowing, his thrusts just as deep as before.

You were lost in the sensation, your brain not functioning properly anymore as you let him use you as some filthy fucktoy. Ghost knew what he was doing, and he could certainly read your body language perfectly well to know what you did and didn't like. Whenever he got too rough, the chokehold he had you in becoming too tight for you liking, he eased up.

But when he came, filling you with his cum in the company of a series of deep growls and groans, he reached down to rub your clit, making sure you climaxed as well. You threw your head back against his shoulder, looking him in the eye as you came down from your high.

Your body went limp, and if he hadn't held you tightly, you would've fallen face first into the mattress. "Are you okay?" he asked you quietly, placing a kiss on your head.

You mumbled something under your breath, but it didn't make any sense. You couldn't speak, not yet. This was more intense than anything you'd ever experienced, your brain definitely needed time to catch up with your body.

"Hey, are you listening?" When you didn't answer, he began to laugh. "Damn, I really fucked you brainless, didn't I?"

Ghost couldn't hide his smile, satisfied to see you in this state, feeling proud that he could achieve his goal. You weren't cocky or confident anymore, you were just a brainless meat sack, with no coherent thoughts in your brain.

Not long after this you fell asleep, and Ghost used this time to take a look around your apartment. He checked your clothes, surprised to find so many beautiful dresses in your closet, along with some sexy lace bras that you definitely didn't wear on missions. Then he went to the living room where he found photos on the shelves, probably ones with your family on them.

Your phone was on the coffee table so he checked that as well, glad to know your password. He went through your emails and instant messages to see who you were talking to, and he became furious when he saw your Tinder dates messaging you, asking for another meeting.

That was more than enough for him, he simply gathered his things and left without waking you or leaving a note behind. He needed time to calm down, preferably far from you. While he still hated you, still wished he could get rid of you forever, that stupid obsessed part of him was still there in the back of his mind, making him feel jealous.

When he returned home, he connected his secret drive to his laptop to go through the photos and videos he stored on it. Fucking you wasn't enough apparently, his mind kept returning to you, the need to keep an eye on you coming back without a warning.

With a sigh he checked the app on his phone the next evening, noting that you were in some bar near your apartment. You probably went there with a friend, but something told him it could just as well be some guy that was sending messages to you. He had to go there and see it for himself. If he didn't, he wouldn't be able to sleep that night.

Weeks passed without you hearing from Ghost. You still thought about him, feeling disgusted that you actually liked the way he fucked you that day. But now that you were going on another mission, you began to wonder what things would be like between you now. Would he be nicer to you finally? Would he at least give you some credit?

In the end none of this happened. When you met again, you were greeted by his cold, dead eyes, his words sounding harsher than ever before. You overheard Soap telling about this to Gaz, and the two men began to wonder how long it would be before Price stepped in. They were right. The captain wasn't fond of this kind of behavior, especially not when it was a lieutenant treating his own sergeant like this.

"You stay put," Ghost told you when you began to get out of the car.

You looked over at Soap with a questioning look, but he only shrugged in response, having no idea what was happening. "Why?" you asked your superior.

He inhaled and exhaled slowly with closed eyes to calm himself. "Because I said so. Stay in the car and don't move."

"Lt., we need all the help we can get out there," Soap tried as he walked around the car and stopped next to the other man. "Just let her come with us."

But he didn't listen, only shut the door in your face and signaled the Scot to follow him. You didn't know why he had to be like this with you. Apart from that one time you had disobeyed him, you never gave him a reason to treat you like this.

Ghost's blood pressure had to be off the charts as he walked away from the car. Soap kept talking, trying to convince him to let you join them, but he didn't give in. He couldn't give in. His mixed feelings for you couldn't cloud his judgment. He was your higher up, he had every right to tell you what to do.

Even if that need probably came from the frustration he felt whenever he followed you around outside of missions. There he couldn't talk to you, couldn't tell you what to do, where to go, who to talk to. Nothing. He had absolutely no control over your life.

Fuck. So his decision really did come from those mixed feelings. Price had noticed something was wrong between the two of you a long time ago, and he warned him before leaving the base that day. "Treat her right. I don't want unnecessary tension in the team," he said.

Letting out a sigh, he turned to the sergeant. "Soap, go back for her. I hope she won't fuck this up for us this time," he said, hoping he would pass this message on.

"Aye, sir," the Scot said with a smile. "I'll be right back with her."

Ghost truly hoped he wouldn't regret this. You were distracting him, especially since he finally had to chance to sleep with you. He had withdrawal symptoms that were getting worse by each day, reminding him that you were like a fucking drug that he couldn't get out of his mind.

No. Focus. He had to focus. Shit. Why was this so hard all of a sudden?

"What changed your mind? Suddenly remembered that I'm part of the team?" you asked when you and Soap caught up with him.

Turning to you, the lieutenant gave you a sharp look. If he ever had the chance to fuck you again, you would definitely pay for this question. Just one chance. That's all he wanted to correct your behavior.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost #modern warfare ii #modern warfare #mw2 #call of duty #ghost smut #simon riley smut

[anemptypuddingcup]

Pollinating my flower (Soft sex w/ Doflamingo.)

Ion know much about Doflamingo with where I am in the anime atm. (Ep. 241, Bear with me)

Y’all I fucking adore the pet name that I made for Doffy to call reader- I fucking love it so much. (Excuse the errors if there are any, I’m halfway sleep.)

also, after the poll results I’ll be posting the 400+ special.

Contains; Soft sex. Fingering. Slight oral (reader receiving). Doffy being soft for once. Doffy genuinely caring about how Reader feels. Doffy calling Reader his ‘little flower’. Doffy pollinating his flower.

It was hard to try and convince him to be nice, you knew he couldn’t help it but that didn’t mean he couldn’t change right…? Someone like Doflamingo had went through a lot in his life so you couldn’t really blame him for his nature and how he acted. Though the only issue was that…he was really rough. It was hard to have sex with him, because every time you did, you’d be bruised and covered in bite marks. And even though you pushed through his painful bites and scratches, you couldn’t help but to ask him to tone it down.

Asking Doflamingo to be sweet and soft felt like a death wish, which is why you always hesitated to ask him. Yes he had his moments where he would cuddle you or hug up on you from stress but that was really the most soft he would ever ever be. You took a deep breath and tried your best to keep your composure. You had to ask him, you didn’t really have a choice if you didn’t want to keep getting hurt by him during sex. With the cutest little nightgown on, you slowly trailed into the bedroom where Doflamingo waited. He sat there looking down at the floor, slumped over a bit.

“Doffy…?” You called out to him softly and he reacts slowly. He lifts his head as he stared at you in that cute little nightgown softly flowing along your body. “Come here my precious little flower.” Doflamingo motions his finger for you to come towards him, which you do. He grabs your hips while his eyes peers down at you, that shit-eating grin still plastered across his face. “You look as lovely as ever my dearest, you smell wonderful too~” He says, inhaling your sweet scent. Just a good sniff of that sweet perfume and your original scent made his dick twitch with anticipation and impatience. Your lips began to quiver and you were now rather reluctant to talk to him about what you were just thinking about. “Doffy…” His name slide off your tongue smoothly as your hands cup his face. This caught him off guard and he raises a brow towards you.

“Doffy…could you be…nicer…tonight?..” You ask slowly, now feeling slight regret and nervousness brew in your stomach. Doflamingo lets out a little chuckle before full on laughing at your question. It’s like he took your words for a joke, like he couldn’t believe what he had just heard from you. Doflamingo covers his face in a hand as another snicker leaves him. “How cute. Are you askin’ me to go soft on you girl…?” He asked, his eyes now giving you a dark glare. You shivered from his glare, now feeling that bit of regret now engulfing your stomach. “W-Well…sometimes I-It hurts and…you don’t…Y’know..” You squeaked softly as Doflamingo’s hand grips your face a bit tight, squishing it. “Hm…Are you saying that you don’t like how I fuck you at night? You better not lie t’me either. All of those moans you let out every time we fuck should tell me everything.” Doflamingo took offense to your words. How dare you claim that you don’t like it. He knew that you loved being fucked like a little toy.

But you weren’t smiling or flustered by his words.

“I…I do like it…but sometimes my moans can be from…pain too.” You admit, looking away from him. Doflamingo takes in your words and sighs lightly. He presses a kiss to your lips before trailing his hands up your nightgown and to your breasts. Groping them softly, he fondles them while you moan into his lips. He pulls away, a string of saliva connected to both of your mouths. “So you want me to go soft huh..? Fufufu…I’ll try my best~” He smiles as he lick his lips, enjoying your sweet tastes along his tongue. You felt your knees go weak at his words and he holds you up to make sure you didn’t fall.

“Get on the bed and spread your legs for me.” He demanded, his gaze softening up towards you. You obey and lay your body softly onto the fluffy blankets. His rough hands grips your thighs softly and he pulls your nightgown up, revealing your pretty little cunny. Doflamingo licks his lips before press a kiss to your clit, causing you to let out a slight squeaky moan. Trailing his tongue along your slit, he never took his eyes off of you. He wanted to see those pretty expressions you made while he pleased your cunt. “Fufufu…do you like when I kiss your cute little flower like this? Is this enjoying to you sweetheart?” He asked as his hands trails up your sides. You shivered under his tongue and nodded slowly as a soft moan leaves your lip. A little slap on the thigh causes you to yelp and look down at him with furrowed brows. “Ah ah~ you know I don’t answer to head movements.” He chuckled as he flicks at your clit. You jolt and spoke out to him. “Y-Yes…it feels good D-Doffy…” You whispered as you to cover half of your face with your hand. Doflamingo enjoyed how you squirm under him from his tongue, but something just made him feel a bit more bored with this than what he’d usually do with you.

“What’s wrong? Didn’t you want me to go soft..? It’s startin’ to get boring…” He pouts as he looks at you, his eyes drifting off somewhere. You give him a saddened expression before looking away. “M-M’sorry Doffy…” You apologized, knowing that the wasn’t gonna work out the way you hope for it to. “Hm?..” Doffy tilts his head in question, wondering why you were even apologizing to him. He climbs onto the bed and stares down at you, that smile now softening up to something a bit more warm…and sweet.

“Fufufu…what kinda man would I be to not fulfill my delicate little flower’s request?” He snickered. You looked up at him nervously and flinches as he moves in closer to you. He peppers a kiss to your cheek before moving his nimble fingers up to your mouth. You trail your tongue along his fingers before sucking on them for a little bit, using your saliva to lubricate them. He moved his hand down and rubs his fingers along your slit before slowly sliding them through your entrance. A moan leaves your lips as Doflamingo feels around your gummy walls. You gasp as you feel his fingers curl and hit your g-spot, a little laugh leaves him.

“Such a pretty little flower…I enjoy watching you writhe around on my fingers. Fufufu.” He sighs, enjoying the mesmerizing sight of you arching your back from the pleasure. “Hahh~ F-Fuck!~” You gasp as you felt your tummy growing more warm inside. You clench around Doflamingo’s finger and he smile before he began to kiss up on your neck. His fingers started to move faster inside of you while you moaned out praises and pleads profusely. “Yes yes! I-I feel it coming!~” You whined as you began to roll your hips up against his hand. Doflamingo giggles before pressing a kiss to your lips. “Go on and cum my flower~ Squirt out onto my fingers, I wanna see your expression~” He whispered into your ears. A whimper leaves your lips as your toes began to curl from his fingertips hitting your g-spot. “Hahh~ D-Doffyyy~” A gasp leaves you as you finally squirt out onto his hand followed by a slight whimper from the intensity.

His long tongue trails across his lips hungrily as he watched you release your sweet nectar along his hand. He slowly pulls his fingers from your cunt and trails his tongue along them, desperate for your sweet taste. He shivers and as he feels his cock grow harder within his briefs. “Your nectar taste so wonderful my dear~” He complimented before climbing over you. You were still getting over your orgasm, but Doflamingo was enjoying the afterglow. “So fuckin’ pretty, yet so delicate.” He says softly. You unconsciously wrap your arms around his neck and he smiles before pressing a kiss to your lips.

He sighs happily as he finally pulls his briefs down slightly to reveal his hard cock, pressing it against your tummy. The warmth of his cock made you shiver as he leans in closer to you. “Ya ready for me to pollinate you, little flower?” He joked, licking his lips. An intense heat engulfs your face as you blushed deeply from his words. He chuckles as he rubs his cock against your entrance, a slight trail of precum spreading across your cunt. “Fufu, M’so ready…m’so so ready~” Doflamingo says eagerly as he slowly slides himself inside of you. A gasp leaves both you and him as he wastes no time to bottom out inside of you. A moan leaves your lips as he slowly thrusts into your sloppy cunt. Doflamingo breathes heavily as your sweet gummy walls suck his cock in all nice and snug.

“Oh goodness~ Fuck you feel so wonderful ‘round me~” He groans as he begins to increase the speed of his thrusts. Soft angelic moans leaves your lips as Doflamingo grips your hips before he begins to lose himself. Your moans grow louder as you feel his hips thrust upward and hard against your g-spot. Doflamingo holds your hand tightly as he continues to thrust his hips harsh against yours. “Doffy! F-Fuck! Doffyyy!~” You whined as you felt your orgasm growing closer already. He presses kisses against your shoulders and neck as he grew closer to his orgasm as well, his groans growing louder and louder as his tongue spills out. “Kiss me~ Kiss me my flower~” He demanded. You kiss Doflamingo and he groans into the kiss before fucking deeper into you.

Your loud moans were muffled by Doflamingo’s lips and tongue against your before he finally pulls back to allow you to breathe. “Fuck I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum so deep inside of your cunt~” He groans loudly. Your legs wrap around his hips tightly and you held on to the pillow tightly behind your head. “D-Doffy! F-FUCK DOFFY!~” You cry out as you feel yourself tipping over the edge. “Cum! Cum on this fucking dick my flower!~“ He groans as his eyebrows began to furrow. A gasp leaves you as you feel yourself shake and shiver on his cock. “D-Doffy! M-M’gonna! M’gonna cum!~” You whined as your walls clench tightly around his cock. Doflamingo smiles before sinking his head deep into your neck. “Yes~ let me pollinate you, take my seed deep inside of your pussy~” He groans, his cock beginning to twitch inside of you.

A loud moan leaves you as you cum on his cock, your pussy gushing cum out onto his soft tanned skin. A groan leaves his lips as he cums deep inside of your cunt before finally resting against your body. You both breathe heavily while you wrap your arms around his torso, hugging him. You feel Dolflamingo hesitate but settles in hugging you tightly before planting a kiss into your cheek. “It felt so good~ It felt so so good Doffy…” You say before peppering kisses onto his face. Doflamingo stares at you in disbelief, never hearing you say such word to him before. “Never heard you say those words before…” He says as he held on to your body tightly. It made him realize that him being soft actually made you feel happier and way better, which is all that mattered to him.

He sighs and yawns, hugging your body like a little teddy bear. “Keep your legs ‘round my hips…I wanna sleep like this.” He demanded as before settling down against the soft and fluffy blankets. You nodded before yawning, your body feeling tired from Doflamingo. “Get some rest…my sweet sweet little flower.” He says softly yet tiredly. “Yes Doffy…Goodnight…” You say tiredly. His grin stayed on his face but it was a softer sweeter grin rather than his shit-eating one. He peeks at the window and looks up at the pretty stars which made him grow tired and yawn.

“G’Night my flower.” Doflamingo whispered before laying his head against the pillows, now drifting off into sleep.

-EEEEE BRO JUST DOFLAMINGO CALLING US HIS LITTLE FLOWER MAKES ME QUAKE MAN.

#one piece #one piece smut #one piece fluff #op smut #op fluff #one piece x female reader #one piece doflamingo #op doflamingo #donquixote doflamingo #doflamingo smut #doflamingo fluff #doflamingo x reader #puddingcupfics #hahaha flower breeding- #doffy being soft #doffy pollinating his flower #get it?

[evita-shelby]

The Wicked Mrs. Shelby

So here's the fic you lovely people helped build through my polls.

Not nice to Grace, so if you get offended by me using her as canon fodder, scram

Gif by @christophernolan

“I know that look. And don’t you fucking dare.” He warns as he lit his cigarette.

“What, I wasn’t planning anything.” You lie with an innocent look in your eyes.

“Y/N, we’re in public. Just ignore her.” He said as he drank his champagne wishing it was something stronger.

Tommy had come here with the intention of having a good time with his wife only to find his former flame and her new husband.

You were a jealous woman, one who didn’t hesitate to cut a bitch who made a move on him.

Grace Burgess, no, Grace MacMillan better pray she doesn’t meet you in the powder room.

“She insinuated to Polly that the two of you have an incestual relationship.” You whisper and he finds himself changing his mind.

Polly hadn’t told him anything that was said between her and Grace when she confronted her and tossed her like last week’s trash out of the Garrison, but she had been angry, angrier than he had ever seen her.

Next time you think with your cock, let me vet your whore before you put it inside her, his aunt had said and left it at that.

“Alright, as long as it doesn’t leave a mark, sweetheart. Rich girls bruise easily.”

You had seen Grace in Birmingham, but you didn’t care enough to talk to her or know her. You heard about her, saw her at the museum you worked at, but never felt any interest in her.

You want to hit her when you see that hopeful look in her eye when she corners Tommy just as you told him she would.

“I thought I would never see you again.” She said breathily, with that strange accent that sounded Irish, but came out as false as the affection she shows her husband.

“Neither did I.” your husband says as you wait for your cue. “You look happy.”

“I am, as a matter of fact, I am happy in New York.” She lies and you try not to smirk when you return with a drink you want to spill on her fancy green dress.

A ruined dress is not a bruise, and is far more embarrassing given this is a party with Charlie Chaplin and the who’s who of London.

But you had found something better, her oblivious husband who believed you were an acquaintance of her.

“Then why write to him asking to meet up behind my back, Gracie?” Clive confronted his wife and Tommy only raised his eyebrow at your sudden change in your scheme. “Did you get us invited here to make a fool out of me?”

“Clive, it isn’t what you think---” she begins and if you were a better person, you would feel bad for destroying her marriage.

But she wanted to ruin yours, so... she’s shit out of luck.

They leave, Clive red with rage and Grace as white as a sheet looking knowing she’s licked.

“Have I told you how much I love your wickedness, Mrs. Shelby?” your husband asked as the both of you clinked your glasses and toasting to karma.

----

Yes, Grace did insinuate to Polly that she had incestuous feelings towards Tommy in both the confrontation in s.1 and the wedding in s.3

But in 1920s that sort of incest was still normal especially among people of Grace’s background

#tommy shelby x wife!reader #thomas shelby x wife!reader #eva666🖤 #juli's build a fic game

[munsonmuses]

Noise Complaint

Modern day AU

College Boy Eddie Munson x RA Reader

Inspiration credit to my dear friend Bug, who listens to my ramblings about being an RA at my teeny little university. And dropped the idea of Eddie being a resident. Thank you @munson-blurbs

Warnings: Shameless smut with light buildup, definitively just a bunch of hate fucking, p in v, oral (reader receiving) reader has female anatomy but isn’t referred to directly as a woman, light choking, creampies, light amateur bondage, Eddie is a shithead and kind of a bully (and kind of a kinky mf)

Word Count: 2.6k

This is mostly to tide y’all over until the next chapter of Spiritual Reserves

——

You carefully walked your weekly Thursday night rounds of the building, each floor more boring than the last. A menial task between desk shifts, programs, door decs, duty phone calls and staff meetings. Lightly drumming your hands along your hips as you listened to your music through your earbuds. Humming along to Moonwalker as you finished your rounds on the fifth floor. Keying into your room and flipping down on your bed, going to close your eyes.

Until violently interrupted by the incessant ringing of your duty phone, picking up and frowning deeply to yourself. “Thank you for calling the Creel Hall Duty Phone, what seems to be the problem?” You spoke in a customer service voice, carefully waiting before hearing a familiar sigh as you quirked a brow. “Nancy?”

Your coworker, Nancy Wheeler worked the front desk while you did rounds, and called you every Thursday around midnight. Each time it was the same thing.

“Hey um, Jason Carver called again, about being unable to stay in his dorm room, as his roommate is playing music too loudly, as always…” she spoke softly as you pushed yourself to sit up, sighing in frustration.

“Room three forty nine right? Down the west wing…it’s Eddie Munson? Again?” You asked, earning a confirming hum as you wished her goodbye and pushed to your feet. Slipping on your house shoes and making the trek down to the third floor.

As you descended the stairs, the loud screeching of an electric guitar through a well abused amp grew louder. Causing your brain to rattle as you grit your teeth. Pushing down the hall and stopping at the door. There was a white board stuck to the front, with a messily scrawled poll on it, something that changed each week. Likely Munson’s doing. Although a bit of a social reject, he took attention in any way he could get it. Much to your chagrin as you pounded on the door.

And again…

And again.

By the third knock, the playing stopped as the door flew open, Eddie Munson stood with a shit eating grin. Currently chewing on spearmint gum that wafted on his breath as you crinkled your nose. Wearing nothing more than black sweats wearing the schools logo, his rings, and his hair in a low bun. Tattoos littering his arms and chest, a tattoo of gnashing fangs on his ribs as you rolled your eyes.

“To what do I owe the pleasure? Did someone narc again, or do you just wanna see me that bad, trying to sneak a free concert mmm?” He asked with a grin as you cleared your throat.

“You do this every goddamn Thursday. If it’s not loudly playing music? It’s you and your idiot friends racing the halls. Or you holding the main lobby hostage, or losing your id and getting locked out. It’s only ever on Thursdays. If anyone wants to see anyone bad, it’s you wanting to see me-“ you hissed as you jutted your chin towards the inside of his room. Signaling you wanted to be let in as he gallantly threw his arm out, gesturing for you to enter as he bowed lightly. Earning a sneer from you as he relished in your contempt. He drew a sort of joy from your anger in him, the attention was invigorating. In being refused love so much by his peers in high school, he’d learned to adore the hate that was sent his way.

Hate festers, it meant he was always in the minds who despised him, like a catchy commercial jingle from the early 2000’s.

He watched as you poked around his half of the room. Littered with posters, lewd art, and piles of clean and dirty clothes. The light smell of sweat, spearmint and pine coming with him as you scoffed lightly at him.

His amp was in the center of the floor right by the foot of his bed, something you clearly missed as you fell, landing flat on your stomach and chin on the cold tile with a sturdy thud. Groaning in pain as Eddie’s smile faltered and he immediately walked over, offering a hand to help you up.

“Holy shit I am so sorry, are you okay?” He asked as he held his hand out to you, watching as you took his forearm in your hand, before yanking him down as he met the same fate. Harshly hitting the floor as you laughed at him harshly. Snorting at him as he held his mouth, his two front teeth having lightly punctured his lip. Not enough to split it, but enough to draw blood.

“You are the only resident I have problems with…” you started as you glared at him harshly. “You’re loud, messy, pushy, you torment the hall-“ you continued as he glowered at you while sitting up.

Licking the blood from his bottom lip, he looked at you bitterly as he quietly listened, cutting you off.

“You’re a prissy, shrill, overly sensitive brat-“ he hissed, big eyes dark as he looked you over as you hummed.

“I’m doing my job Munson, I get paid to do this-“ you hissed as you looked at his lips. Full, pouty, with the crimson stain of fresh blood.

“You need to get fucking laid, maybe then you’ll pull the stick out of your ass-“ he snapped as he leaned in closer. “Stuck up bitch.”

“Idiot.” You hissed back, getting closer as you bumped the tip of your nose with his own, earning a growl from Eddie.

Your skin was prickling with heat as you stared him down. Trying not to fold as you felt his breath fanning across your lips.

Before you could fully process, he pushed his lips against yours. Harsh and feverish as you groaned into his mouth. The light taste of iron mingling with the spearmint in his mouth as you shuddered lightly. Letting him pull you in tight by your sweatshirt as you ran a hand up the back of his neck. Undoing his bun as you tangled your fingers into the base of his scalp, brown trellises of hair tangling around your fingers.

“I fucking hate you,” you hissed as you pulled back for air, glaring at him as he rolled his eyes. Discarding his gum and pulling you to stand with him.

Backing you up, he pushed you up against the metal and wood bed frame that held his shambles of bedding. Continuing his kissing at you as he pawed at your sweatshirt, getting it off and over your head as you shuddered. His hands so warm opposed to the cold trapped within the room.

“For a total bitch? You have great tits…” he murmured as he lightly took hold of them. Large and calloused hands groping and squeezing, earning soft whines and heavy breaths from you as he laughed. His thumb and forefinger taking hold of your stiffening nipples, lightly pinching and twisting as you whined out his name, clearly worked up as he laughed lightly to himself.

“You’re a lot nicer to listen too when you’re not bitching at me…” he mumbled in your ear, lightly nipping at the lobe as you shuddered harshly.

Trailing your hands down his chest, you worked your fingers down, stopping over the stiff outline of his cock as you lightly ran your hand over him and earned a light but deep groan from him. Working your other hand into his waistband as you went to work his sweats off. Earning a harsh pinch on your left nipple as you looked at him.

“We’re doing this my way. I’m in charge now.” He insisted harshly. “Now, up on the bed.” He pat your hip to motivate you, watching as you used the step stool to get up and sit on the mattress. Watching as he rooted around in his closet quietly.

He apparently found what he was searching for, coming over with a well worn black belt in hand. Quietly climbing into the bed alongside you as he hummed.

In silence, he took your wrists, wrapping the belt around them firmly, and around the wooden bar at his headboard. Pulling tight as he checked to make sure they weren’t so tight he’d cut off circulation. Once sure, he hummed in approval and lightly pat your cheek. “Good, you look so pretty like this…” he cooed down at you, watching as you chewed on your lower lip and nodded lightly. The confidence in you dwindling.

“You’re a lot prettier when you’re not making everyone’s ears bleed you cu-“ you were cut off by a harsh kiss, his hand lightly making its way up your stomach and chest. A gentle pressure applied to the sides of your throat. A gentle choking sensation applied as you moaned lightly into his mouth. Feeling his cock twitching against your thigh as you gave into the kiss.

Eddie pulled back for air, lightly patting your cheek as he released his light hold on your throat. Sliding his way back down to the edge of the bed.

His hands took hold of your waistband, working off your shorts and underwear agonizingly slow. Eyes trained on yours as you whined lightly.

“Hurry the fuck up-“ you hissed out as Eddie smacked your inner thighs lightly. Glaring at you as he rolled his eyes. “You’re so fucking impatient…” he muttered before working his hand further in, humming as he lightly cupped you in his hand. Running his middle finger up your slit. Stopping at your clit as he worked in small, circular motions. Watching your face as your lashes fluttered and your mouth formed a soft ‘o’ shape. “There we go, see? I can do a lot more with these hands besides playing guitar like a fucking god…” he hummed out softly as he continued. Drawing soft moans from you as he nodded.

Applying a bit more pressure to the sensitive bundle of nerves, he laughed lightly as he gently worked on getting you relaxed. He was a dick, but he was considerate. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you.

“You look so fucking gorgeous like this…all pink in the face, mouth open…let’s give them some real noise to complain about,” you could see him cringe a bit at his statement, cocky and a bit cheesy.

He pulled your legs apart slowly, bowing his head down as he placed soft and deep kisses along your inner thighs and trailing inwards. His lips stopping at your clit as he pressed a slow and deep kiss to it, humming lightly as he tentatively listened for your reaction. Wanting to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable or unhappy with his actions.

“Eddie don’t tease…fucking hell.” You hissed as he laughed lightly. Taking it a step further as he lightly sucked on your clit, circling it slowly with his tongue and applying tentative amounts of pressure. Earning a full moan from you as he carefully worked on his middle finger. Pressing in slowly as he curled and flexed his finger. Getting you to cum first was his goal.

He kept his ministrations going, refusing to let up unless asked as he laughed lightly. Sending vibrations through you as you arched your back lightly, pressing further into his face. “Fuck! Eddie keep going-“ you demanded as he eased in a second finger. Beginning the slow thrusting and curling. Flexing his fingers apart as he increased the pressure on your clit. Feeling your walls flutter around his fingers as he sped up. Getting a bit overeager as your thighs clamped around his head and squeezed.

Your eyes rolled back as you cried out desperately, babbling. Eddie was right, you did need to get laid. The stress of the job was melting off your shoulders as the knot in your lower abdomen came undone. Earning a desperate cry from you as you came, soaking his mouth and chin as he hummed. Pulling his fingers out as he worked in his tongue slowly, humming as he made his way back up and eventually pulled away entirely. Sitting up as he looked at you.

“So fucking good…” he eased both fingers into your mouth, urging you to taste yourself as he hummed. “See sweetheart,” he crooned, laughing lightly to himself as he pulled his digits from your obedient mouth. Patting your cheek lightly and getting to work on removing his own bottoms.

His cock was undeniably hard, unable to be ignored as he hummed and slowly stroked himself. His other hand grabbing your chin and tilting your head down to get a look at him.

“Watch me. Don’t take your eyes off of me, I want you to watch me fuck you…” he ordered as you nodded your head lightly, watching as he lined himself up, and got to work.

Pushing into you, he groaned lightly. Watching as your mouth fell slack and lashes fluttered. Grinning in pride as he eased in inch by inch. Panting and rambling praise as he bottomed out within you. Holding your hips firmly in his hands as he lightly rolled his hips.

“So fucking gorgeous, you take my cock so well honey…” he took hold of your calves. Bending your legs up and back before pulling them upwards over his shoulders. Pressing light kisses to your ankles and calves, before biting down lightly as he took a deep and long thrust.

Your head fell back, eyes rolling back as you moaned desperately. Unable to fight the pleasure that washed over you in overwhelming waves. Moaning desperately as you clenched your fists and whined desperately. “Don’t fucking stop, good god-“ you growled out as you took each bruising thrust. Eddie was filled with lust and stamina, his hips knocking into the backs of your thighs as you grinned. “So good-“ you whined lightly.

Eddie laughed to himself as he listened, his thrusts deep and overdrawn as he rocked into you. Each thrust felt deeper than the last, the pressure building up was addicting. His necklace thumping with each thrust against his chest. Your breasts lightly bouncing as he drank in the sight of you. You were gorgeous underneath him. Fucked out and pliant as he pat your cheek.

“Don’t stop looking at me sweetheart. Look at what you do to me…look at how good you make me feel.” He ordered as he felt himself getting worked up, losing a bit of control as he grinned to himself:

He leaned forward, pressing your legs into your chest as he angled your hips upwards. Causing him to reach deeper inside you, grinning. “You’re squeezing me real good, see, you can be real nice to have around…nicer to look at from this angle at least~” he cooed in a patronizing manner as he grinned.

The cacophony of moans, thrusts, panting, and the creaking of the mattress felt ridiculously loud. Flooding your brain and making your brain feel like putty as the pressure in your abdomen grew. Stomach growing tight as you whined.

“Eddie? I’m gonna cum-“ you whined as he laughed lightly.

“Not yet honey, not till I say…” he insisted as he kept his thrusts going. Making sure to hold you firmly in place beneath him. He was drunk on you.

“I’m getting close sweetheart, so what you’re gonna do is cum with me…okay? Can you do that?” He punctuated each question with a harsh thrust as you nodded your head obediently. “Good-“ he hummed as he carefully sped up, leaning down ad he pressed impossibly deeper.

Nose to nose with you, he hummed. His breaths growing ragged as he held onto your chin. “Now-“ he pushed.

You let go, whining as a searing white wave of pleasure rolled over you. Your orgasm rocking you as you whined. Coming back from your delirium as you felt the heat of his own orgasm filling you. His light rutting causing some to spill over as you whined and groaned.

Pressing a light kiss to your lips, Eddie hummed. “Same time next Thursday?”

——

Taglist: Open

@munson-blurbs

#eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader

[dw-writes]

Eyes On You - Mad Sweeney x Reader

Summary: Sweeney couldn't sleep, and desperately had something to say while he finally had a chance to say it. Genre: Gen. Fic; Angst?; Prompt Request A/N: This is the answer to the poll prompt that I gave you all forever ago, with the prompt being "I fell in love with you the moment I laid eyes on you". Now, this IS part of The Invasion canon, somewhere before the Rock when you're traveling. I'll put up the links to The Invasion later, but for now, please enjoy :) Let me know what you think

Chapters: Chapter One || Chapter Two || Chapter Three || Chapter Four  || Chapter Five || Chapter Six || Chapter Seven || Chapter Eight || Chapter Nine || Chapter Ten || Chapter Eleven || Chapter Twelve || Chapter Thirteen || Chapter Fourteen || Chapter Fourteen-ish || Chapter Fifteen || Chapter Sixteen || Chapter Seventeen || Chapter Eighteen || Chapter Nineteen || Chapter Twenty || Chapter Twenty-One || Chapter Twenty-Two Requests: Mad Sweeney and The Holidays || The Invasion and the Stressful Blows One Shots: The Invasion and That One Thankful Holiday || The Invasion and the Weight of Change || Eyes On You

It was late. Sweeney knew he should’ve been asleep, especially when he looked at the bright red numbers on the digital clock that read 3:45 AM. He looked away from them, at your form on the other side of the tiny motel bed, curled up with clean sheets and the slightly dingy comforter thrown over your form.

He’d been having trouble sleeping for the past few days, chalking it up initially to the travel you and him had been doing – back to back motels, back to back gods with back to back errands, back to back buses. He knew that his time with you was coming to end, he could feel it in his bones, but he didn’t want to admit it. With the date of the Rock getting closer and closer, your job with Wednesday was getting closer to ending.

He rolled onto his shoulder, watching your back as it rose and fell with your deep breaths.

“Yer gonna be leavin’ soon,” he whispered into the dark night of the room. He held his breath as soon as the words left his mouth, waiting for you to wake up. The traveling must have been too much for you, too, however, as you didn’t even stir. Sweeney licked his lips. He was too tired to think about what he was saying, too tired to stop himself as he yawned and let the words tumble out of his exhausted mouth.

“Yer gonna be leavin’, and yer gonna be leavin’ me,” he continued, “Goin’ who knows where.” He snorted faintly, sniffed, shifted on his squashed and folded pillow. “Without me,” he muttered. He eyed your back as you curled up tighter under the blankets.

“Dunno what ‘m gonna do,” he sighed, “Shit luck without you, ‘s what I’d probably say to yer face. Can’t say the rest of it.” Sweeney wanted to stop talking, needed to, but the words burned as they clawed their way up his throat from his chest. “Fuck, I need you t’ stay,” he rasped, blinking hard, shoving his face into the scratchy pillowcase.

“Loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you,” he mumbled into the pillow, turning his head to watch you again, “Pretty sure of it now. Can’t imagine what this bullshit’s gonna be like when y’ wise up and fuckin’ leave this shit behind.” The confession felt wrong, but it wasn’t a lie – he couldn’t even lie to himself, no matter how much he wanted to.

“First moment,” he muttered, like he couldn’t believe it, “Fuck, that’s it. Saw you on the fuckin’ couch and just knew everything was different.” He sighed, scratched his jaw, and settled back into the thin sheet you shared. “Fuckin’ Rose would say it was some stupid romantic shit, but we both know it wasn’t. Almost called the cops on me that day, you did, but I think I woulda let you, because I just couldn’t…” His thought trailed off as you rolled onto your back, shifting under the blanket towards the warmth in the bed. He swallowed the rest of the words, panic lancing through his chest, and waited until you were settled again.

“Couldn’t say no to yer face,” he whispered.

He sat up carefully, making sure you were neatly tucked into the bed, and grabbed his clothes from where he’d thrown them onto the chair. Everything he said choked him, settled back into his throat and made it hard to breathe.

He carefully opened the door and stepped out into the cold, humid air outside, then shut it behind him.

You found him sitting on the curb outside in the morning when you opened the door, still dressed in your pajamas and half asleep. “The fuck are you doin’ out here?’ you mumbled.

Sweeney blew out a thin string of smoke into the early morning air. “Waitin’ fer you,” he grunted. He stood. “You hungry? ‘m starvin’.”

You squinted at him and struggled to rub the sleep out of your eyes. “Sitting out here like a weirdo,” he heard you grumble as you turned around, “Thought someone had kidnapped you or something.”

He snorted, watching the door shut behind you as you shuffled in to get ready, then sighed to himself.

~*~ Thanks for Reading~*~ ~*~Tag List~*~ @hannon-say @divadinag @fear-less-write-more (i cant tag you) @superflannel @selenaofthemoon (i cant tag you) @jinxy-toast @teller258316 @guiltgoldglory @the-bluest-hour @irishgodfucker (i cant tag you) @karmabites2313 @hiddlebatchedloki (i cant tag you) @siedrkona1991 @hstott @lakeli @nemophilistvampyr @massivecolorspygiant @leximus98​ @weirdo125 (i cant tag you) @fleeingdawn-blog1​ @madamecoyote​ @postgradandstupid​ @hopplessdreamer​ @omnisexualvampire​ @hannon-say​ @ceyruh​ @animatenebrae​ @ultrablackwidower​ @callmemaeverick​ @loisbaggings​ @fictional-hooman (i cant tag you) @babypink224221​ @quietwitchsworld

#american gods #the invasion series #mad sweeney #mad sweeney x reader #pablo schreiber

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Many Roads Diverge in the Woods - Part Six

A JSE Interactive Fanfic

The Beginning | Previous

The results are in.

Your path has been altered. Strange how such a small choice can change so much. Yall gotta stop getting so close to ties, it's worrying me XD jk jk

The poll to decide what happens next is only open for one day, expiring on October 17th at 12:00pm PST. Part Seven will be up on October 19th at the same time.

<><><><><><><><><><><>

We should do it, JJ says. We can take him by surprise.

Chase and Marvin exchange uneasy glances. Neither of them really want to do it, but they don’t have a better idea. Chase nods and goes to stand by the door. He reaches out for the doorknob, stopping a couple inches away, and holds up three fingers. Marvin and JJ understand instantly. They join him by the side of the door, which is shaking intensely as the banging increases.

Three... two... one... go!

Chase unlocks the door and throws it open. Smack! Someone shouts in pain as the door swings outwards and hits them. Something clatters to the floor. Marvin and Chase move before the sound fades, grabbing the man outside the room and pulling him in. “I got it!” Chase says, grabbing the man’s arms and pinning them behind his back while the man struggles.

Marvin grabs the man’s shoulders to hold him in place. His eyes widen. “No way,” he whispers.

The man’s face is covered by a blue surgical mask. Marvin reaches out and pulls it away, confirming what Jackie told them. The man attacking them has been Schneep the whole time.

“Holy shit!” Chase gasps. “Schneep?! What the hell?!”

“I told you...” Jackie says weakly from the bed.

JJ darts into the hall and picks up the object that fell to the floor: a knife. He runs back into the room, goes across to the window, opens it up, and throws the knife out. Then he spins back to the others. Henrik, what are you doing?! he demands. How are you alive?!

Schneep doesn’t answer. He’s breathing heavily, mouth opening and closing but not making any sound. His body is trembling.

“Come on, man,” Chase says. “What’s going on?!”

“Did you really stab Jackie?!” Marvin interrogates.

“Nn—” Schneep gasps, going pale. He fights against Chase’s hold, but Chase just tightens his grip. Garbled words leak from his mouth. “Es tut m—bitte, hilf—” His voice stops abruptly as he shakes his head.

“You guys get that?” Marvin asks, glancing at the others. “That was German, right?”

I couldn’t quite make it out, JJ says.

“Not a good fit.”

Chase starts. That voice—it was Schneep’s, it definitely came from his mouth, but—his accent had disappeared. Unconsciously, Chase’s grip loosens. “What did you—”

Schneep cries out and throws his head backwards, smashing it against Chase’s face. He staggers backwards, letting go, and Schneep sprints out of the room. JJ gasps—and runs after him.

“JJ?! Wait!” Marvin calls.

Chase recovers from the blow and bolts after JJ. “Stay with Jackie!” he shouts over his shoulder, not bothering to look and see if Marvin followed him or not.

JJ runs down the hallway and down the stairs to the first floor, with Chase right behind him. They both take the steps two at a time until they reach the living room. JJ keeps running after Schneep even as Chase calls out for him to stop—and then, suddenly, JJ freezes in place. He stares at the open doorway leading to the basement. The power is still out, and the staircase descends into pitch black darkness.

“Jameson fucking Jackson!” Chase stops, breathing heavily. “What are you—?!”

He doesn’t even turn to look at Chase. Instead, he pulls out his phone and turns on the flashlight, running into the darkness of the basement steps. Frustrated, Chase runs after him, pulling out his own phone for light.

Fourteen steps to the bottom of the basement. Chase catches up with JJ on step ten, reaching out and grabbing him to stop him from going farther. “What the hell, bro?!” he hisses. “Are you crazy?!”

JJ looks at him. He simply signs Schneep’s name—combining the signs for “H” and “doctor”—and points down the stairs.

“He went down here?” Chase asks. JJ nods. “Well that’s good to know but don’t keep going after him!”

Why not?

“Because he was attacking our door with a knife! He fucking stabbed Jackie! I don’t think it’s a good idea to go after him!”

Something is wrong, JJ insists, his face stern. Schneep wouldn’t do this. He couldn’t have made that intercom message saying we’d all die. And how did he fake his death like that? Sure, we may have had trouble finding a pulse, but where did the blood come from? How did he move around without us noticing?

Chase hesitates. These are all good points. But... “So you think it’s a good idea to run after him alone?”

JJ smiles. You’re here now, though.

“Don’t say that like I want to go down into the creepy basement with you!”

But you’re going to do it anyway, right? JJ asks.

“I-I...” Chase looks back up at the doorway to the basement. It’s still open. The living room is dark, but it’s still slightly brighter than where they stand now. He turns and stares into the blackness. Anything could be down there. Schneep definitely is. Did they want to go after him? Or would it be safer to go back upstairs and wait?

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #septic egos au #jacksepticeye au #jameson jackson #chase brody #marvin the magnificent #jackieboy man #dr schneeplestein #brigid writes fanfiction #manyroadsdivergejse

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Mod Talks #1: The Progression of Toko Fukawa.

//So, as you all no doubt have noticed, for these last few days, we’ve been having very in depth discussions about Danganronpa 3, and certain writing choices in the series that we agree with or disagree with, and it got me thinking about a new idea for a short side-series I could do on this blog.

//Introducing Mod Talks. Which basically involves me doing two things.

Me giving a comprehensive analysis and opinionated discussion on certain characters, story points or writing decisions from the main series.

Explaining my thought process on how I carried that over to Danganronpa Survivor.

//What I aim to achieve with this is that I want to hear more people’s thoughts and opinions on the topics that I carry over. I’m not necessarily looking for feedback on how I write Kodaka’s characters, or necessarily looking for comparisons. I really just want to have more in-depth discussions with the followers like we’ve been having recently.

//You might have thought that I would start this series off with an analysis on Kuripa, since I did already mention I would be making a long post exploring his backstory (or what is known of it) and my thought process behind his character and his goals. But I decided I actually wanted to start on a different note and get to Kuripa eventually later down the line.

//The main reason being that he plays a significant role in this arc, and lots of things related to his character happen in this part of the story, so I want to wait until we get to that point to discuss it further. For now though, as you can see by the title, I’ll be putting my attention on the protagonist who seems to have the last amount of time in the limelight for now: Toko Fukawa.

//And Genocide Jack as well of course.

//Because if I’m being perfectly honest, Toko losing the first weekly poll kind of made me sad. It’s not that I don’t get it, but I’m actually proud of how I’ve done Toko of all characters in this series, and I want to talk about my thoughts and feelings.

//This discussion will be going over her history, and how she has changed as a person from when she was a lonely young kid, and now in Survivor as an adult mother.

//I also want to hear yours, so don’t hesitate to give feedback. Like I said, the main purpose is to discuss thoughts, feelings and opinions with you guys, because I’ve come to find that I really enjoy it.

//Let’s get started.

Toko in THH.

//The first question I think people would like to know with my discussion is what my opinion of Toko is in the canon games. So I’ll start with Danganronpa 1, when she’s first introduced, and I’ll just be straight up with everyone...

//I didn’t like her AT ALL.

//Frankly, Toko was my second least favourite character in that game, and one of the worst in the series for me for a long while. 

//To me, the only thing in Danganronpa 1 that Toko was involved with in any significant way was the Genocide Jack twist in Case 2. Everything else she did in this first game was pointless and annoying. And not even having Genocide Jack as an additional character in the roster saved her.

//Talking about them both individually, Toko on her own had a lot of things wrong with her. She had multiple negative personality traits that to me made her extremely unlikeable, the main one’s being that she lashes out at anyone regardless of what they say to her, she’s generally rude and nasty to people for little to no reason, and she’s also insanely dirty minded and her words make me really fucking uncomfortable.

//On top of this, her whole thing about falling in love with Byakuya and dedicating herself to him got really old, really fast, and I was not about it. Following Chapter 2, to make things worse, it basically became her whole character: Byakuya’s sole follower, who he treated like shit. And aside from that, there really wasn’t much else.

//Genocide Jack on the other hand is a bit more fleshed out, since she’s got much more personality than Toko. However, she suffers from the complete reverse problem, since she has TOO MUCH of it.

//Those who read the blog’s story might notice that the amount of times that Genocide Jack appears in the main story over Toko is severely minimal, and I’ll say right now the reason for that is because I don’t really know what to DO with her. There’s so much to unpack, and since GJ is just pure craziness, it’s really hard to fit her into any sort of social situation. 

//On top of that, Toko is also incredibly hypocritical, and not in the good kind of way. She explains at intervals in DR1 that she does honestly want to make friends. However, every time anyone (Hina being our prime example) tries to compliment her or be genuinely nice, she pushes them away and shoves words in their mouth. All the while feeling sorry for herself.

//I know that this is probably the point and she’s written this way for a reason, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. And I most certainly DON’T. It’s not like I don’t think self-deprecating characters in media and games shouldn’t exist, but this is an inhuman level of self-loathing. 

//Given her backstory, it’s clear Toko had a major fear or rejection, which explains why she acts the way it does. What it DOESN’T explain, is why she continues to pursue Byakuya for a LONG TIME even after DR1 ends; who as a reminder, rejects her CONSTANTLY.

//I don’t attribute my dislike for Toko to being poor character writing however. There are few holes in her overall backstory and it’s not like her attitude goes unexplained. However, even explaining it, while it does make it more well-rounded, doesn’t make her a character that I can sympathize with.

//With that in mind though, I’d like to start talking about my thinking process when it comes to Toko’s backstory, and a lot of elements that happen within it.

Toko’s Backstory and the Existence of Genocide Jack. 

//One of the interesting things about Toko’s backstory compared to every other DR backstory we know of is that her’s actually can be traced back to the moment she was born.

//I’ll try and lay it all out as best as I can, but right from the get go, I’ll say that Toko’s past and the life she’s lived before she first met Makoto and the others in DR1 was just as unstable and messy as she is herself.

//When Toko was born, she was born at the same time as another child in the hospital. This other child was born with a severe medical incapacity, that ended up taking it’s life the very same day. 

//This kind of situation isn’t necessarily uncommon in the real world, however, another aspect was discovered about the situation, being that the two women who gave birth to the two girls had both slept with Toko’s father. And due to a mix up with the hospital involving this, the professional’s were not able to figure out which mother was the one that gave birth to Toko, and which one gave birth to her late half-sister. 

//When Toko explains this to Komaru in UDG, Komaru points out that a blood test may have been able to resolve the issue. While this is correct, Toko affirms that both mother’s declined the exam. As a result of this decision, Toko ended up living with a father and two mothers.

//The normal expected decision to not taking the blood test would usually be to not live with the guilt that your child could have died. This however, is not the case, and Toko very quickly came to realize this; in reality, both mother’s WANTED their child to be the one that died, not the reverse.

//It’s never explicitly stated why, but the obvious conclusion to reach, and the one that I go for with Survivor, is to do with Toko’s father. Neither of Toko’s mother’s were aware at the time that their two girls had the same father, until the day of the birth. Thereby, the child that they were carrying had the DNA of a man who had cheated on them. 

//However, based on the way that Toko talks about her parents, and her specific phrasing when she explains her childhood to Komaru, I don’t think that’s really the case. I came to think about this from Weeby Newz’s character analysis of Toko, hence why I used the screenshot above, so let me reiterate her point.

//For one thing, Toko explicitly states that her father wasn’t married, or even in a real relationship, with either of the two women. At least not to her knowledge. It’s also important to note that Toko’s specific words about the supposed “affair” are “They also discovered that both women had slept with the same man”

//“Slept” i.e. not SLEEPING with. In my eyes, the more likely scenario was that Toko’s father had a one-time fling with both women, and accidently got them both pregnant.

//And as much as that sounds like a reach, it’s also important to note that the conversation in that exact same scene starts like this:

Toko: It’s my mothers fault that she was born inside me. I never thought of them as my real mother’s, not even once. Komaru: Wait, “them” as your “mothers?” Don’t you mean your mother and father? Toko: I’m a novelist, I wouldn’t misspeak like that. I said “them” and I meant it.

//And it’s important to keep this in mind, because it explains my writing process for Toko’s father.

//For those who might have missed it, one of the chapters of “The Life and Lies of Akeru Yozora” Toko opens up to Komaru, Leon, Sayaka and Makoto about how her life with her parents really was, and why it’s making her determined to rescue Akeru from the same childhood.

//In said chapter, it shows the birth of Genocide Jack, at the hands of Toko’s mothers constant abuse. In said chapter, when Genocide Jack is finally born, both of Toko’s mothers succumb to the serial killer, being her first victims and only FEMALE victims.

//Toko’s father on the other hand, is not only spared, but after Toko runs away from home, he decides to take the fall for her. This is my way of saying that Toko’s dad is not the piece of shit that Toko’s mother’s were. He’s still a bad parent for not sticking up for his daughter, but it’s also important to note that he didn’t want the situation he was in just as much as Toko or the mother’s did.

//In context, the only reason why Toko was even living with two mother’s in the first place is for legal reasons. And if the scenario of them both accidently getting pregnant is true, it also explains why they were such awful mothers, since it implies they were both, for lack of better words, hussies, who’s lifestyle’s would be severely interrupted by the burden of a child.

//Putting more focus on Toko’s mother’s however, this same line, Toko practically confirms that it’s because of the abuse she suffered at the hands of her mother’s is what gave her second personality life. Hence the existence of the chapter where Toko opens up to her friends and classmates.

//If someone is not born with Dissociative Identity Disorder like Toko has, usually an alter would be created as a coping mechanism to abuse and trauma. And from my perspective, this is the exact cast for Genocide Jack. It’s already pretty clear from Toko’s personality alone that she’s had to put up with a lot of emotional abuse and bullying, but to have a split personality, the trauma has to be EXTREMELY severe. Undergoing something like this causes your brain to form barriers that allow a distinct identity to develop and the individual to cope with the trauma by repressing the more distressing details of it.

//And as stated multiple times already, it’s very clear that neither of Toko’s mothers were kind to her even slightly. One of the things she mentions in UDG is that she was once locked in a closet for three days, without any food or water, which developed in her a severe fear of the dark. Going by that same logic, I also attributed Toko’s fear and dislike of taking baths back to the abuse of her mothers, and came up with the idea (which again is mentioned directly in the chapter where she exposes her past to her friends) that her mother’s would scald her arms with hot showers. 

//However, Toko’s life with her parents wasn’t the only issue. Her life outside of home was equally as bad since, as I mentioned, she had to deal with a lot of bullying and abuse from other people too. For example, the time she was framed for a theft she didn’t commit, and as punishment, was tied to a jungle gym with a garden hose. 

//Hence why throughout all of it, Toko’s most valued companion and the one that was taken hostage in UDG was her pet stinkbug Kameko. Since Toko figured the bug didn’t judge her for being herself, like everyone else did. 

//The next important part of Toko’s backstory is the story with her first love. It’s important because it explains, at the same time, how both Toko and Genocide Jack got their Ultimate Talents. 

//The full story is that Toko met and fell in love with a boy in elementary school, who was the only person she ever felt comfortable talking to. When she finds out that he and his family are moving away to a different part of Japan out of her reach, she gives him a sendoff by sending him a love letter confessing her feelings. 

//The result of this was said boy revealing that he actually hated how much Toko used to talk to him, and that he was ridiculed for it often, deciding to get back at Toko by pinning her love letter to the bulletin board to shame her, giving her even MORE emotional trauma to deal with.

//When this happened, one of Toko’s teacher who had read Toko’s love letter reassured her by telling her that she had a real talent for writing. This teacher’s words are what prompted Toko to pursue a career as a writer. 

//At the same time, once learning of Toko’s rejection, Genocide Jack chased the boy all the way to his knew home, and murdered him, thus marking the beginning of Genocide Jack’s killing spree, murdering any boy she came across that she thought was attractive. She confirms this in her own FTE’s.

//There’s a lot to unpack with each aspect of her full backstory, and this isn’t even all of it. Even after Genocide Jack’s birth leading up to becoming an Ultimate, there’s so much more emotional abuse and trauma that this girl went through and was forced to overcome.

//In a later section of this analysis, I will explain a little bit more about how all of this ties into Toko’s character for Survivor, namely her role as a parent herself, but now I want to move onto the most integral part of the discussion, where Toko was arguably at her pinnacle.

The Unspoken Theme of Ultra Despair Girls.

//One of the things about Danganronpa that is consistent throughout the series is that each game has a different main theme. Usually along the lines of “Ideal A VS Ideal B” And I’ll quickly walk through them.

//Danganronpa 1 obviously has the sole theme of Hope VS Despair. And that theme has become a staple of the entire Danganronpa series, arguably being the series most important.

//Hope and Despair are two sides of the same coin, in many senses. Hope is defined as a feeling of expectation and desire about a result and despair is defined as the lack of hope, or lack of such a feeling of expectation and desire about a result.

//If hope is associated with an expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen, when we hope we are essentially concentrating on a result. If that result doesn’t occur, then we may fall into despair, which is the lack of the expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen. We cannot have hope without despair. They go together. If you can feel hope, then it is equally possible to feel despair.

//This is best represented in the dynamic between Trigger Happy Havoc’s main protagonist and main antagonist -  Makoto Naegi and Junko Enoshima. A boy who believes his one redeeming quality is his overwhelming optimism, and a girl who’s a natural genius talent with many redeeming qualities, but applies it to literally watching the world burn.

//Danganronpa 2 also plays with the idea of Hope and Despair, but it also has another theme that plays very well on the game, especially at the finale. A Terrible Past VS a Better Future.

//It ties into DR1′s theme of the battle between Hope and Despair by elaborating on what comes after it. The moment that defines this is Hajime’s final decision to abandon his past actions and face it’s consequences, while fighting to redeem himself and live a better future for him and his friends.

//Given their past actions as Junko’s terrorist cohorts that were wiped from their memories, this is how they choose to deal with it.

//V3 is a lot more complicated, because there are actually two running themes across the whole game, all of which are different from the typical Hope Vs Despair dynamic: Truth against Lies, and Logic VS Belief.

//The first idea is best represented through the main protagonist, Shuichi Saihara, and his arch-rival, Kokichi Ouma. Kokichi being a consistent liar and Shuichi being a detective who fights for the truth. The penultimate conclusion to this theme is that Truth VS Lies does NOT constitute to Good VS Evil. Sometimes a lie can be a white lie designed to protect people, while finding the truth can lead to a terrible outcome (i.e. Shuichi’s backstory exposing a man for a crime done to avenge his family.) Shuichi even states in the game “Some lies can lead the world to hope...Some truths can lead the world to despair...So I don't think anyone can really say which is more right in the end.”

//Logic VS Belief meanwhile. is best represented in characters like V3′s deuteragonist, Kaito Momota, who doesn’t base his assumptions off anything other than his own assurance and faith in the people around him. While this is narrow-minded at a glance, Kaito repeatedly proves that his assumptions and belief are well-placed. Not always of course, but often enough that Shuichi considers his belief’s when it comes to his accusations. On the other hand, there are characters like Angie Yonaga and again, Kokichi Ouma, who’s assumptions are grounded more in logic and facts, sometimes making them overlook the bigger picture at hand, but also the only sure basis for a grounded conclusion.

//It’s never explicitly stated, but the way I see things with the spinoff game, and what ties it back to Toko, is that Ultra Despair Girls has it’s own secondary theme to the typical Hope VS Despair 

//And that is...Companionship VS Solitude.

//And going further with that, Trust VS Betrayal.

//Elaborating on both for a moment, here’s how I see it. Both Toko and Komaru at the start of Ultra Despair Girls are both in a poor position, and neither really know how to cope. Toko has barely changed from the horrible person she was in DR1, while Komaru starts off as a weak-willed, vulnerable girl.

//By the end of the game, Toko’s attitude has drastically changed, and she opens up to Komaru in a way she never did to Makoto or anyone else before her, and Komaru becomes a much stronger person, both physically and mentally, going from being the one receiving the rousing speeches to the one giving them (like she does for the adults in the secret encampment.)

//And the obvious conclusion to reach is that the development of both these characters can be attributed to one another. Komaru is made a more responsible and down to earth person, taking matters into her own hands and resolving the problem in her own way thanks to Toko’s influence on her. At the same time, Toko, an extremely pessimistic person with little faith in her fellow human, is made to become the voice of reason for Komaru, simply because she NEEDS it.

//And despite their bumps along the way, and how they don’t start off as friends and work together more as allies than anything, the companionship between these two girls is the one and only reason they were even able to Survive the demon hunting game.

//The PARALLEL to this, is Monaca and the Warriors of Hope. Who if you think about it, have the EXACT REVERSE DYNAMIC.

//When UDG starts off, you see as the game progresses just how close these kids are to one another right from the get go, having been through a similar experience to the girls in working together to overcome a shitty situation that they all have been through.

//And for most of the game, their friendship seems strong and genuine, but then you get to the conclusion of the first boss fight against Masaru. Where his defeat against the girls results in him being pulled under and out of sight by the masked Monokuma kids; a scene that obviously reminds Toko of an execution.

//And as the game progresses, this continues happening, and when it does, the other kids really hardly bat an eye, and try to move on. But the more it happens, the more concerned they begin to grow, Nagisa especially who even tries to resolve the situation, strongly desiring to protect the dream he and the other kids share.

//At least that’s what he believes, only to find out that Monaca has been playing him and the other Warriors from the start, never truly intending to be their friend, or helping them create the paradise she promised she would.

//In comparison to Komaru and Toko’s strengthening bond, the Warrior’s who seem to have a strong bond at the start, weaken as a result of Monaca’s secret betrayal. Something I believe goes overlooked often by most people.

//Another thing that people can see from this, is that by the end of the game, Toko has gained every trait she needs to pass as a true Danganronpa deuteragonist, fitting the same traits and actions as the others before her (and no, slapping Komaru to knock some sense back into her doesn’t count as part of it). Doing what all of them did at some point, and rescuing the main character from a truly awful situation.

//Who was it that not only rescued Makoto from the garbage heap, but also kept his spirits raised when things started to look bleak? Kyoko.

//Who was it that restored formality to the group and saved Hajime from falling in Despair forever in DR2? Chiaki.

//Who were the one’s who rescued Shuichi when he gave in and tried to hide from facing the truth? Kaede and Kaito.

//And who was it that saved Komaru from the burden placed on her that she didn’t deserve? Toko.

//Before this point, Toko would not have ever been able to fit that role, but by the end of Ultra Despair Girls, she’s become attuned to being by this girls side, and being the moral compass she needs. And she is GOOD at it. And it’s only BECAUSE she’s grown to care for Komaru, putting herself on the line for her sake, that she is able to do this.

//Toko has lived a life of abuse, bullying, betrayal, doubt, sadness, and unjustness. But none of that matters when someone who truly cares about her is falling into Despair. Meeting Komaru, while she wouldn’t openly admit it even after the fact, was the best thing that could have ever happened to Toko.

//And meeting Toko was the best thing that ever happened to Komaru as well.

Toko in Survivor. How has she changed?

//Now we’ll actually get into my own personal thought process for Toko in this blog. How much she has developed PAST the last time we saw her in Ultra Despair Girls and DR3. And there are three main things to focus in on here:

Her progressing relationship with Komaru.

Her role as a mother.

Her change in lifestyle.

//Keeping in mind what I said about Komaru and Toko having changed and developed one another plays a big role in their characters from the start of Survivor, and how much they’ve changed in the 8 year timegap.

//On Komaru’s side, she’s obviously become a much more confident and eager person. Someone who screamed and cried while fighting for her life back in Towa City, now greets fights with open arms and ready trigger finger. She’s no longer afraid of the threats she faces, and now with Toko by her side, is actively ready to stand against them.

//Toko’s changes are obviously a lot more integral. She doesn’t stutter her words or needlessly blame others anymore, always thinking about the situation at hand before she starts putting words in each other’s mouths. And while she still cares for Byakuya, she no longer idolizes him in the way she did, nor does she have any dreams of pursuing a life with him, instead sticking with Komaru and trying to sort herself out. Even Byakuya admits by this point in time, Toko has become a woman worthy of his attention. Which is why it was so nice to write that one segment of Into the Ocean where they teamed up together, just the two of them.

//I also believe that Toko and Komaru would have started to develop feelings for each other during the timegap. Most people would think it a little odd that they decide to get married almost immediately after confessing to one another, but to me, it’s not that strange.

//They would have had a lot of time to spend together, and they would clearly recognize their love for each other. After all, if you think about it, Toko and Komaru’s dynamic is basically the EXACT SAME as Makoto and Kyoko’s. The Naegi siblings have a lot in common, as you might expect, with both of them being strong-willed people at the core, as well as one’s who have the power to inspire hope in others, but also each having a fair share of inferiority complexes. Toko and Kyoko on the other hand, are more down to earth and logical, and balance their respective partners out.

//And if one of them can grow to care for each other beyond a point that canonically is implied to be more than a friendship, why can’t the other?

//Toko hasn’t completely changed of course. There’s still a lot about her that remains relatively the same from the canon games, mainly that she’s still quick to frustrate, and still isn’t immediately trusting of anyone she meets, however being more willing to give them a chance to prove her wrong.

//But the primary way in which Komaru has influenced Toko is simply by being a genuine friend, partner and companion, teaching Toko how to be more confident in herself, as well as overcoming all of her past trauma’s, slowly but surely. This in turn, would have led to Toko living a much healthier lifestyle than the one she had before, and as of Into the Ocean, it certainly shows.

//Toko’s redesign as of Into the Ocean sports her signature purple, but also a much brighter and happier blue in contrast to her previous designs where her clothes and outfit are much darker all around. She’s also discarded her glasses for contact lenses, and started wearing shorter skirts and leggings, showing her change in attitude and character, and how she’s a lot more self-assured, and confident in herself.

//This is the face of a woman who’s been through a lot of trauma, and through the power of love and companionship, has overcome it. That’s all it ever took.

//And then of course, there’s not only Komaru as her wife, but the newest addition to their family - Akeru. Who the girls decide to adopt as their own daughter.

//Upon finding out her true backstory, Toko gravitates almost immediately towards Akeru when she finds out just how similar the two of them are. Having both been raised by abusive mothers, and having murdered them as a result of the trauma.

//Even after her mothers died, Toko’s life did not get better. If anything, it only became worse. So when Akeru was finally saved from the clutches of Narumi Osone, Toko endeavored to make it so that Akeru didn’t go down the same path...By giving her a family and a new life that she could learn to love.

//Toko has been through some shit, but thanks to this natural progression and strength she has found, she’s able to become the exact authority figure that a young girl needs. Though she lacks in real experience, Toko goes out of her way to do whatever it takes to make sure that her girl grows up happy and healthy in the way she never could, without deflecting her own childhood trauma on this equally damaged girl.

//In a way, she’s doing for Akeru exactly what she did to Komaru. Hence why the chapter of her exposing her past to her friends is so important. Simply to emphasize just how much the girl’s suffering means to her.

Where are we now?

//To end this, I need to make a quick observation of the blog’s current events, and analyse where every main protagonist, the one’s that carry this story, are standing right now.

//First of all, most obviously, Makoto and Kuripa are both HOT MESSES right now. Not just in the wake of the death of Mukuro, but with every bad thing after bad thing that’s been thrown their way, they’ve been severely wittled down to the point where both of them are barely hanging onto sanity. 

//Kuripa obviously isn’t new to this attitude or feeling, but when Makoto is at a point where he’s not only lashing out at the people who love him, but is physically assaulting the wrongdoers; something usually out of character for him, you know he’s going through some shit.

//Hajime is not much better. Obviously he’s currently in an indefinite coma while Izuru takes control of his body, but even before that he was clearly suffering at the hands of a situation out of his control, that he still wholeheartedly blames himself for. 

//The actions of both Ayumu Fujimori and Nagito Komaeda he attributes back to his own incompetence, and believes that most, if not all of what the Future Foundation is currently going through, is his own fault.

//Shuichi and Kaede seem relatively fine, but it’s clear they’re both struggling with their own issues. Shuichi’s will be elaborated on, but Kaede is so severely traumatized by her past, it makes her act out stupidly, and she’s beginning to have severe doubts about herself.

//And Shuichi feels like a fish out of water, having a branch to lead but not quite sure how to take charge when it counts.

//Even Komaru isn’t quite sure what to do, and has made her own handful of stupid decisions. On top of not being there for her brother and being blissfully unaware of the Future Foundation’s fall in wake of her own family’s interests, she also gets so desperate, that she takes matters into her own hands and makes a fucking mess of things.

//I.e. blaming the entire mess on Kuripa with little to know grounds on such an action, and kidnapping and trapping Makoto for “his own safety.”

//And the amazing thing throughout all of this, is that looking at all of these protagonists and comparing to Toko...She is the ONLY ONE who has remained relatively sane throughout the entire pandemic of Despair.

//In Into the Ocean, she comes through as a mediator and protector for Komaru, Akeru and Byakuya on multiple occasions, comforting them when they’re in a difficult situation (very physically in Komaru’s case ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)) and having their back, even when they try to go solo on dangerous missions.

//And in The Monster in Me, she’s the first member of the Future Foundation who defects from Komaru, her own wife’s, authoritarian methods to stop Kuripa and Katagiri, simply because she remains in her right mind and realizes that something is not right, and Kuripa isn’t the sole person to blame.

//This is the same woman who always jumped to conclusions and put words in others mouths out of her own self-loathing whenever anyone tried to have a basic conversation with her. But now she’s thinking more rationally than any of the “heroes” and seeing things for what they are, taking it on herself to sort things out and help them just as she did to Komaru back during Ultra Despair Girls.

//Toko Fukawa over the course of her life has gone from being one of the weakest-willed and traumatized heroes in Danganronpa...to easily one of it’s most confident, rational, and strongest.

#mod talks #mod #danganronpa 1 #dr1 #danganronpa ultra despair girls #drae #toko fukawa

[pickacover]

FAQ

Q: What is this?

A: Glad you asked! This is a poll blog where you get to listen to different versions of a song and vote on which one you like best. Please note this is “which one you like,” not “which artist is your favorite” or “which one is more technically good.” Sometimes a great artist can have a shit cover and vice versa, and sometimes an artist you adore does a cover that makes you cringe or has an original someone else just managed to turn transcendent. And sometimes it’s your favorite because you have good memories even if the cover itself is objectively awful! That’s also okay! The question is, if all covers of the song came on the radio at the same time, which channel’s version would you flip to?

Q: how often do you post?

A: five times a day.

Q: what’s the point?

A: Lord, let me never live in a world where I’ve forgotten whimsy.

Q: Have you done [song]?

A: search the blog for the title.

Q: you haven’t done [song]!

A: submit the song title and the name of the original artist.

Q: are multicover matchups okay?

A: ah, you got here from the Personal Jesus post. Yes, they’re good! If a song has more than nine total covers, they will not all be included, and the most prominent nine will get preference.

Q: Are there matchups you won’t do?

A: animated Disney/live-action remake, musical stage recordings/other recordings of the same musical, stage recording/movie recording, solo artist/something they originally sang with a band, original of a song/its biopic version, Christmas carols, Kidz Bop, anything by Cole Porter. Most of these are intended to sound as much alike as possible so it’s kind of pointless, and while we love and respect and adore Cole Porter in this house, the problem is there are literally hundreds, possibly thousands, of covers of his songs. Someone could probably entertain Tumblr for a month with a seeded matchup poll of Cole Porter song covers. It’s beyond my ability to do.

Q: what about self-covers?

A: self-covers are postable IF the cover makes substantial changes to the original. Examples of this are changing the genre (You + I/You + I Country Roads Edition), language (Space Oddity/Ragazzo Solo Ragazzo Sola), or a significant portion of the lyrics (Eve of Destruction/Eve 2012). Radio edits aren’t eligible except in rare extreme cases like Call Me By Your Name and I’ve No More Fucks to Give. The rule of thumb on that one is “if someone only three-quarters listening would stop and go ‘wait, what?’ then it qualifies.”

Q: what about live versions?

A: an artist’s live version will always sound different than their album version and often vary from show to show, so no. With that said, many cover versions involve an artist covering another artist live for an encore or just for kicks and giggles and they never get “officially” recorded by the covering artist, so submitting original album/a live recording by another artist is just fine. You’ll need to let me know which live I’m looking for, though. (Or better yet, link me.)

Q: what about classical music?

A: I’m gonna level with you, I have no idea how this would work. Like….are we talking about playing Pachelbel on wineglasses or something? I’m going to go ahead and say okay, but whatever you’re submitting as the cover is going to have to be pretty transformative.

Q: I’m not American and there’s this song from my home country/my own language…

A: PLEASE DO. I will request if you wish to make such a submission, please link me to both the original and the cover because I can’t guarantee the YouTube algorithm will do so. But you’re quite welcome here and I’d love to hear what you’ve got!

Q: this artist/song/album is problematic! You shouldn’t post their work!

A: if I started removing artists based on being problematic, 1) there would be nobody left 2) Taylor Swift would be the first to go. Is this the hill you want to die on?

[tiffdawg]

Chaste | A Din Djarin x Reader Fic

Gif: @bestintheparsec​

Pairing: Din Djarin/ The Mandalorian x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 2.1k

Rating: E | Warnings: NSFW - explicit sexual content, heavy petting, mutual masturbation, creampie, dity talk featuring Din’s bedroom voice. 18+ only.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who voted in my little poll yesterday! And thank you to @huliabitch​ for encouraging me to write this. This is just something I wrote in between final papers. I don’t want to try to fit it into the current timeline so let’s just say this is sometime in the future well after Din decides to keep the kid. No spoilers for season two. No backstory, no plot; just smut. We might need that to cope depending on how the season finale goes tomorrow...

Read on AO3

My Masterlist

… . …

Chaste

Unsurprisingly, Din woke up hard. Again.

Your semi-conscious brain registered his erection pressing against even before you’d opened your eyes that morning. It sent a rush of heat straight to your core. Just as it had every morning for the past week. And despite the early hour, you knew he was awake. Gentle fingertips traced abstract shapes along your side where your shirt had bunched up in your sleep. His dizzyingly light touch sent chills across your skin, but at your contented hum, his hand slipped under the hemline.

In his tender explorations he found your breast. You shifted against him, rubbing your thighs together in a pathetic relieve the mounting pressure building within you. He groaned behind you. His fingers circled your nipple before pinching the now stiff peak. You gasped at the electric mix of pain and pleasure.

“I knew you weren’t sleeping,” Din rasped, voice still hoarse from sleeping, as he pulled you back tighter against his chest, calloused hand still cupping your tit.

“You started it,” you mumbled back. Your eyes blinked open as you looked over your shoulder at him to find him lazily smirking at you. “Good morning, my love.” 

“Morning, cyar’ika,” he greeted before touching his lips to yours.

What was supposed to be a chaste kiss before the two of you reluctantly roused yourselves from bed to start the day, quickly became heated. Your lips slid against his and your tongues urgently explored each other’s mouths, seeking the familiar pleasure you’d been denying each other. Din deepened the kiss and your body yielded to his as he rolled you onto your back. You carded your fingers through his dark locks, pulling ever so slightly and eliciting quiet gasps from your partner.

Moving without thinking, your legs wrapped around his waist and you ground up against him, searching for even the slightest hint of friction where you needed it most. Spurred on by your actions, Din reached around you, his rough hand grabbing your ass to hold you in place as rolled his hips in time with yours. A matching pair of sighs resounded throughout the small room at the hint of relief.

But it still wasn’t enough. Not when you wanted each other this badly.

“Whose bright idea was it not to have sex again until we’re married?” Din asked in between messy kisses.

“Mine,” you admitted begrudgingly.

... . ...

“Will you marry me?”

Din’s words, delivered softly and without preamble, pierced your heart even before you could process the simple sentence. You flicked on your ship’s autopilot, letting your old astromech take over, and turned to him. You found him watching you carefully.

You paused to admire him and the little foundling sleeping against his chest, needing to remember everything about that moment for as long as you lived. You didn’t have to think about your answer; the two of them had stolen your heart years ago. “Yes,” you replied easily with a smile, “of course I will.” 

Din beamed at you. You crossed the small cabin to perch on the armrest of his seat. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he quipped as he leaned in to kiss you, careful not to disturb the baby.

“I was wondering if you were ever going to ask.”

“I know. You’ve been patient. That’s not like you,” he teased.

“Shut up before I change my mind,” you threatened playfully even as you pressed a kiss to his temple. “How exactly does a Mandalorian marry?”

“The riduurok is a simple exchange of vows. We can...” –he swallowed hard­– “we can do it right now.”

“Now?” you exclaimed. You grimaced as the baby stirred. Din adjusted his blanket and he settled down. He turned back to you with a raised brow.

You’d been through so much together. Loved each other for so long. Really, marriage vows were just a formality. Nothing would change. But it didn’t feel quite right. Something was missing.

“On my homeworld a marriage is something to celebrate. It’s kind of a big deal.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“I­ haven’t been back in years but I always imagined getting married at home and celebrating with my family. At the very least I always thought I’d take you home to meet them first. I guess that’s stupid,” you shook your head, trying to banish the thought. You had bigger priorities.

“No, it’s not,” Din said firmly. “I– I don’t have that. I’m glad that you do.”

“We can still say our vows in private. Just the three of us. But it would mean the world to me to share this with them.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Then we’ll go as soon as we can.”

“Thank you,” you said around a smile before eagerly sealing your mouth to his.

He made a happy sound before speaking conspiratorially against your lips. “Let me put the kid to bed and we’ll start celebrating.” 

A cold heat ran through you at the insinuation. “Shit,” you cursed.

“What’s wrong?”

“How long do you think it’ll be before we can go to my planet?” 

Din shrugged. “It’ll be at least a month before we can make it to the Tashtor Sector. Why?”

“Well,” you started hesitantly, “it’s tradition for couples not to have sex once a marriage promise is made. Not until the wedding night.”

Din’s head hit the back of his seat as a long exhalation escaped him. “Anything else I should know about?” he grumbled.

“Nope,” you chirped, stifling a laugh. “I mean there’s a whole bunch of other stuff, but that’s the only thing that’s actually important.”

“Of course it is,” he grumbled with a shake of his head as he leaned forward. Except he paused just before his lips touched yours. “Am I still allowed to kiss you?”

“Yes,” you laughed. His mouth matched with yours and when you parted, he was smiling again. He rested his forehead against yours, an unbroken habit from the early days of your relationship, and you felt the weight of your new situation settle between the two of you. “Think you can last that long?” you teased. 

“Can you?” he challenged with a tilt of his head.

“You couldn’t go a whole month without this pussy,” you whispered, hoping to get a rise out of him.

“I’m a Mandalorian.” He said it stoically as if that was an explanation in itself. “You’ll be begging for my cock by the end of the week, cyar’ika. Just like you were last night.” 

“We’ll see about that, Mandalorian.”

... . ...

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. And a month seemed perfectly reasonable. You were wrong. It was supposed to make the night of your marriage special, but so far all it was doing was frustrating the hell out of both of you. Every night you slept next to him unable to touch him like this was fucking torture. You trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down his neck in silent apology.

“How the fuck are we supposed to wait two more weeks?” He asked though heavy breaths, not expecting an answer. Normally, you were the wild spitfire that countered his cool demeanor, but at that moment – cheeks flushed, chest heaving, hair mussed – he looked absolutely wrecked. “I wanna bury my cock in you right now.” 

“I know you do,” you panted. “I want you inside me. Want you to fill me with your cum so bad.”

“Yeah?” He fumbled with your shirt that had twisted around in your sleep before hiking up your sleep shirt. His mouth latched onto your breast so he could kiss and suck and bite your breasts, marking the tender flesh as his own as he continued to rock against you. “You want that?” 

“I miss the way you make me feel so full. The way it drips out of me.” Your cunt clenched around nothing and your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you tried to control your desire. “I need it,” you whined instead.

“I know you do.” He raised his head from your chest to look at you. “Shit, sweetheart, you’re so pretty when you’re desperate for me.”

“Oh, Din,” you mewled, practically on the verge of tears. 

“Are you as wet as I think you are?” He leaned back on his knees to reach a hand between your bodies. He smirked, his brows lifting in amusement, as touched you through your panties. You were drenched. “Take it off.”

“What? What are you–” You placed your hands on his broad shoulders to stop him as he repositioned himself between your legs and covered your body with his. “We shouldn’t–”

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” he said as he pulled his briefs down just enough to release his cock, hard and leaking already leaking. “But I am going to fill you. Just like you need.”

Your chest caved in and a broken, pathetic whimper escaped you at his admission. “Really?” 

“Can I?” he asked, brown eyes practically beseeching you. He was always so polite even in moments like that. Even after all that time together.

Your hold on him softened, hands moving to gently cradle his face. “Please, Din.”

He helped you strip. As soon as you were exposed to him, his thick fingers teased your folds, coating them in your wetness, before wrapping around his length. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Ready?”

You nodded and he notched the tip of his dick at your entrance. He started pumping himself, using your slick to lubricate himself.

“Oh, fuck!” you cried when you realized what he was going to do.

The feeling of his hand moving in between your legs as he jerked himself off made your head spin. You felt filthy and you fucking liked it. You arched toward him, hips angled to take more of his dick, but he stopped you.

“No, cyare. Not this time,” he whispered against your cheek. You squeezed his tip as your cunt contracted instead, earning a delirious moan from him. “I missed this pussy.”

You could tell he was close. After weeks of hardly touching each other, it wouldn’t take much. You ran your hands down his bare chest and across his soft sides before gripping his hip, hoping to encourage him and hold in place as he neared his climax.

Eyes squeezed shut and teeth bared, he came with a shout. You felt him cum spurting inside you as he filled you. He continued to stroke himself, drawing out his orgasm as long as he could even as his spend started to leak out.

“Touch yourself for me,” Din demanded gently, placing light kisses on your face. “Wanna watch you cum.” 

He pulled out and leaned back just as your hand replaced him. Watching him watch you sent a fresh wave of arousal to your center. With a devilish smile, you gathered the cum dripping out of you and swirled your fingers around your throbbing clit. Din groaned at the sight. Two strong hands gripped your thighs and spread your legs further as his eyes locked on your cunt.

Every muscle in your body seemed to tighten as you played with yourself, your own climax was right behind his. But just as you were about to cum, Din grabbed your wrist and removed your hand. The noise he made was practically a growl as he leaned down to spit on your pussy.

“Oh fuck, Din!” you shouted, body keening off the bed. When he finally released your hand, you rubbed furiously at your clit, eased by the mix of his cum and saliva.

“That’s it. Cum for me.”

Your vision blacked out before an array of stars burst behind your closed eyes as your orgasm tore through you. Pleasure clouded your mind, but you could hear yourself chanting his name like a prayer.

When you fell back against the bed, Din collapsed half on top of you, his cheek pillowed on your chest. “Fuck, that felt good,” you sighed. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as you both caught your breath. “But I think that might be considered cheating.”

“No,” he insisted, “Just... bending the rules a little.” You both laughed and he held you a little tighter. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

“So you can finally fuck me again?”

 “No.” He shook his head. “So I can be your husband.” You felt him smile against your skin. “And so I can finally make love to my wife.”

... . ...

Forever Tags: @leo-moon​ @readsalot73​ @frietiemeloen​ @huliabitch​ @jerusomeeno​ @benedrylcumbersnatch @b0n-chann​ @scapricciatello​ @liadamerondjarin​ @pedropasscals​ @paintballkid711​ @mistermiraclee​ @honeyand-roses​

Story Tags: @softpedropascal​ @mindless--ramblings​ @disgruntledspacedad​

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #fic: chaste

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

please please a part 2 of that gamer!geralt au, them doing something like Q&A

Nonie, I hope you know what you signed up for. This got out of hand lmao. like 2.4k of Q&A kind of out of hand. 

Warnings: swearing, talk of drinking to excess, kinda spicy questions, lil kisses, idk how but I meant for this to be goofy and horny and it got kinda soft? what’s new?

____________

“Holy shit,” Geralt sat staring at his phone as he mindlessly stirred pasta.

“I swear to god, if you found a way to burn noodles-” Jaskier turned away from the blender to wave a wooden spoon covered in pesto puree.

Geralt shook his head and held his phone up to him, scrolling through the replies to a tweet as he did, going on for ages as Jaskier’s jaw slowly got closer to the floor.

“What are those for?!”

“I put up a poll for a boyfriend Q&A or a game review and not a single person has voted for the game review.” Geralt was still scrolling through questions people wanted answered as he watched Jaskier’s face go from shock to confusion to a smug grin. 

“They love me,” he sang, kicking his heel up as he turned back to the pasta sauce.

Geralt rolled his eyes and started screenshotting some of the less invasive questions, shaking his head and muttering, “Course they do.”

-

Geralt pressed record, waited a moment, and heaved a dramatic, long-suffering sigh, “You guys literally didn’t even give me a choice on this one,” he reached off frame and scruffed Jaskier, plopping him down on the couch with him. 

Jaskier didn’t stay where he was put for even a moment, using his momentum to bounce up onto Geralt’s lap with a shit-eating grin, “Oh? Are we rolling?”

Geralt dropped his forehead to Jaskier’s shoulder, stifling a laugh, “This is gonna be a long one.”

“Yeah, it is,” Jask agreed, then turned to the camera, stroking Geralt’s hair, “My fans want more!”

“OH-kay,” Geralt manhandled Jaskier to sit next to him which earned him a pout and a leg draped over his lap as he continued his intro, “I’ve got a bunch of questions from twitter. I didn’t even have to confirm which video we would do, you guys just went straight for the kill. I picked a few, Jask picked a few, neither of us knows which ones the other picked.” he turned to see Jaskier wiggle his eyebrows at the camera, “Why am I thinking you picked the raunchy ones?”

The brunet pretended to be offended before he smirked, “Only a few.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Of course,” he nudged Jask with his shoulder and opened up his phone to his screenshots, “Okay! First up is AdamSandlersBitch, nice name. They asked what Jaskier’s favorite gaming console and game to play is.” he turned to Jaksier with raised eyebrows.

His boyfriend cringed, “My.. my phone? I don’t know? I play a lot of Candy Crush while I listen to podcasts?”

Geralt smiled sweetly, “Wait what about Stardew Valley? I thought you started that?”

“I did!” Jaskier brightened up for a moment before he deflated again, “But I got confused and then the ADHD made me bake cookies.”

“Those were good cookies. I’ll play with you if you want?” Geralt’s normal ‘streamer dude’ persona melted away while he played with the rips on Jaskier’s jeans. 

Jask leaned forward and kissed his temple, “I’d love that.” 

Geralt blushed, even after years, Jaskier’s affection still caught him off guard. 

“Mkay! My turn!” Jaskier flashed his devilish grin and read, in his most obnoxious voice, “Dwn2Clwn said ‘do you two live together? Have you said ‘i love you’? And who tops?’”

Geralt’s mouth twisted into an upside-down U as he stared at Jaskier in muted surprise, “Honestly, not as bad as I expected.”

Jaskier looped his arm around Geralt’s, “I’m starting off easy.”

Geralt let his mock-disapproving gaze linger just a bit before he answered, “The living together is kind of new-like a few months. This one said ‘I love you’ on, what? The fourth date? Fifth?”

“Fourth.”

“No, it was the fifth, Eskel locked himself out on the fourth. Remember?”

“Shit you’re right,” Jaskier gave the camera a stern look, “In my defense, we’d been friends for a good four years before this. I wasn’t just confessing my love to a tinder date - though I have done that before.”

Geralt nodded, “That was very amusing.”

Jaskier tapped his nose, “Don’t avoid the last part, darling.”

Geralt huffed and stared down the camera, and, in the most matter of fact tone possible, said, “We switch. Compromise, folks. Can’t have one person doing all the work all the time.”

Jaskier nodded sagely, patting Geralt's chest, “We got a pow-”

Geralt clamped his hand over Jaskier’s mouth, 100% sure he was going to say ‘power bottom pillow princess’, “Nope. I’ll get demonetized for that.”

“But not who tops?” Jaskier asked through Geralt’s fingers.

He just shrugged, “I don’t make the rules.”

Jaskier tapped his phone and raised his eyebrows, telling him to move to the next question. 

“Mis- Mischanication? Shit I hope I said that right, Mischanication asked, ‘would you ever get a pet together?’ We did! Her name is Roach and she’s a little shit! I told Jaskier not to feed her, but he did, now we have the snuggliest, crankiest cat I’ve ever met!” 

Jaskier had gotten up to pluck Roach from her perch on the windowsill when Geralt had read the question and plopped down with her as Geralt finished his proud speech, “She’s not a little shit! She’s just delicate! Isn’t that right, darling?”

Geralt scratched under her chin and cooed, “You are a nasty little dragon baby, aren't you?! Just a little garbage child! Yes, you are. We love the tiny demon beast.”

“Geralt!”

He snickered and kissed Jaskier’s hair, “Next question, love.”

Jaskier grumbled something about positive reinforcement as Roach scampered back to her cat tree and he unlocked his phone for his next tweet, “This darling wants to remain anonymous,” Geralt gave him some serious side-eye at that, “they said ‘I think I’m in love with the flower twink, where can I find one of my own?’”

Geralt frowned at the camera and pulled Jaskier onto his lap, holding him close and snuggling into his chest, almost growling, “Hands off.”

Jaskier giggled, brushing Geralt’s hair out of his face as he talked to the camera, “You heard the man. Unfortunately, I was not mass-produced and I’ve been spoken for.”

Geralt looked up at him with what could only be called suspicious puppy eyes, “You picked that one just to sit in my lap didn’t you?”

“Yes. And because I want to change my socials to ‘flower twink’.” 

“Do it,” Geralt kept Jaskier on his lap as he swiped to his next question, “Eggsfuckingsuck - heh, my dad hates eggs- Eggsfuckingsuck says, ‘what is the most embarrassing thing you’ve caught each other doing/saying?’ Oh boy, do I have a story for you!”

"Oh I couldn't say the thing but you can tell this story!?" 

"...you have a point... Check my insta stories. I'll put it there after I post this." 

Jaskier nodded, ever so pleased, and turned to the camera, "Our dear Yennefer of sorceryglammour once beat Geralt at trivia night when the theme was 'video games'." 

“We did shots before we went to the bar and she goaded me and Lambert into a chugging competition before the round started. I’m telling you, she planned this. Yen is ruthless.” Geralt desperately tried to justify his defeat but Jaskier was having none of it. 

“She’s mostly harmless, plus I have video evidence from that night. You weren’t that far gone.”

“Pull it up! Let’s settle it.”

Jaskier patted Geralt’s head like one would a toddler, “I’d have to get my old laptop out. Later, darling.”

Geralt had a smug look on his face, “That means he doesn’t have it anymore.”

“Next question!” Jaskier squeaked, not at all changing the subject. 

Geralt shrugged, “If you admit I won that one.”

“It’s not a competition!” Jaskier laughed, looking down at him with that stupidly smitten look on his face.

“Hmmm…” Geralt tilted his chin up defiantly, “if you say so.”

Jaskier kissed him, lingering a little bit more than could be considered chaste, “I do.” 

Geralt looked up at him, batting his eyelashes, “Fine then, next question.”

Jaskier handed him his phone and he read it off leaning his head on Jaskier’s shoulder, “CountryBumpkin42 asked if we play any instruments. I play the recorder very poorly, but Jask plays everything.”

“Not everything, but yes, I could cover a Trans Siberian Orchestra song if I had a pedalboard with enough loop settings.” Jaskier preened. 

“And more,” Geralt added, counting on his fingers as he spoke, “In this house alone he has two pianos, three different types of guitars, a drumset, a violin and fiddle, a flute and piccilo, an oboe, a mandolin, a lute, bongos, saxophone, clarinet, tambourine, trumpet, and xylophone. Did I get them all?”

Jaskier glanced from side to side with a guilty look, “Ah… no, I bought a bass sax that showed up last night.”

“Oh, did Thursday at 3 decide they wanted to switch after all?”

“Yeah! She got the third chair as a freshman on a loaner instrument! I’m very proud!”

Geralt seemed to remember they were recording and turned back to the camera, “J teaches music at the university and does private lessons.” 

“It’s how I can afford such a pretty trophy boyfriend,” Jaskier teased, ruffling Geralt’s hair and earning a little chuckle.

“Mkay, what do you have next?”

Jaskier smoothed Gearalt’s hair back down as he read the next question, “3R4108F6!J asks if we have any cute nicknames for each other.”

Geralt’s eyebrows nearly flew past his hairline, “J has a new one for me almost every day.”

“Its true,” Jaskier nodded, “I am a slut for cute nicknames. This morning was Ger Bear, one of my faves. I called him Thumbs for a bit, I lovingly call him Dumb Fuck rather often.”

“And he is Dip Shit, it’s balanced. I usually just shorten names? Jask or J is usually it, right?” Geralt asked, shifting so Jaskier was sitting on the couch between his legs and they were both turned out toward the camera but very much still cuddling. 

“And when I’m being childish I get Alfie. But Geralt is much more deliberate and specific with his nicknames. It’s a bit of a friendship level up when he uses nicknames.”

Geralt frowned at him, “I do that?”

Jaskier giggled, “You never noticed?”

He tilted his head, giving Jaskier a quizzical look, “Not at all.”

Jaskier cupped Geralt’s cheek, “You’re so cute.”

Geralt blushed again, leaning into the touch just a tad, “Who’s turn is it?”

“Yours,” Jaskier hummed, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. 

“Okay,” Geralt blushed even more, “I had this one as an alternate, but uh, Yen asked what we’d name our first kid?” 

Jaskier leaned into Geralt’s shoulder and hummed as he thought for a moment, “I always like Blake or Spencer, but I seem to remember you saying something about old world traditional names?”

Geralt nodded, absentmindedly running his fingers up and down Jaskier’s arm, “My grandma was hoping each of us boys would be a girl and wanted mum to name us Cirilla every time. I quite like it, but I’m rather open as long as I don’t know someone with the name. I really like Eric?” 

“Oo, I like Eric.”

“But you like the neutral names.”

“I do, but it’s your hypothetical kiddo too.”

Geralt gave him a little squeeze, “There’s time for that later. What’s your next one?”

Jaskier snorted when he looked at his phone, “What are your guys’ love languages?”

Geralt just looked down at Jask, completely entangled in his arms, then up to the camera, “I’m gonna hazard a guess at physical touch.” 

“Yeah, I think that’s a safe bet,” Jaskier giggled, “I haven’t taken the quiz in years, but I was that and gifts.”

“Oh, yeah. Physical touch and words of affirmation. I got like a 0 on acts of service and gifts, but I really like giving gifts.” 

“Mhm, yes you do,” Jaksier wiggled his eyebrows, then turned to the camera, “I also had no idea you could have different giving and receiving languages till I met this one.”

Geralt nodded then turned to him with a slight frown, “you know I really thought your questions were going to be more graphic.”

“Oh, honey I saved the best for last,” Jaskier winked. 

“Fuck me,” Geralt grumbled before reading off his last question, “Cali852 asked what we did for Pride.”

Jaskier’s eyes lit up, “Oh Pride was fun. We watched the parade, of course, then Yen did our makeup and… and where did we go after that?”

Geralt looked like he’d been waiting for this, “We went to a club, where you ordered three kamakazis, knocked them all back, danced for twenty minutes, then I took you home.”

“N-no… we went to the beach, didn’t we?”

“That was the year before. We were going to go to the drag show at our regular bar too, but someone had just finished grading finals and went a little too hard.” 

Jaskier grinned, “Speaking of finals, time for the last question. I had a different one in mind but if the thing I cant say from earlier would get this demonetized then that defintitelyi would. So we’re going with ‘what is the wackest placy y’all banged?’”

Geralt snorted, “Shit who knows anymore?”

“Well there was the boat?”

“Or the train?”

“Nah, too standard. What about the cabin?”

“Heh, no I think your o-”

“I don’t have tenure darling,” It was Jaskier’s turn to slap his hands over Geralt’s mouth, “The answer is a dilapidated structure my parents still try to call a cabin out in the foothills.”

Geralt laughed and pulled his hand away, “Okay, that can be the answer.”

“Is that it? Now we just say bye?” Jaskier looked between Geralt and the camera.

Geralt shrugged, “Yeah. You wanna say the thing?”

Jaskier wiggled with a little pride and excitement, “Don’t forget to like and subscribe! Bye Fuckers!”

They both waved for a couple seconds before Geralt got up and turned the camera off. He popped out the memory card and was going to immediately start loading it onto his computer but Jask hooked his finger through a belt loop as he walked past and tugged him back down. 

“I’m tired. Snuggle with me.” 

Geralt hummed, “We just snuggled that whole time.”

Jaskier heaved a dramatic sigh, “I know and this is exhausting. I don’t know how you talk to a camera all day.”

Geralt stretched to set the chip on top of his laptop before collapsing back on top of Jaskier who had stretched the length of the couch, “Are you making fun of me?” he teased. 

Jaskier cupped his face between his hands and pulled him up for a deep kiss, “Oh never.” 

#geraskier #gamer geralt #streamer geralt #teacher jaskeir #noob jaskeir #geraskier boyfriends #geraskier fluff #soft geraskier #the witcher #the witcher fic #geraskier fic #geraskier modern au #the witcher modern au #look this is so self indulgent i hope yall still like it #lmao

[blueskrugs]

How Not to Build a Gingerbread House | Travis Konecny

this one was requested by an anon! hope you like it, I had fun with TK’s general chaos vibe, highly influenced by an old Markiplier Makes video where they try to build gingerbread houses. see y’all tomorrow for another request!

24. “I feel like there’s more frosting on you than on the gingerbread.”

length: 1K

When you came home and found TK standing in your kitchen with two of those gingerbread house decorating kits and a shit-eating grin, the only thing that came out of your mouth was: “No.”

TK pouted at you. “C’mon, babe, it’ll be fun! We can make a competition of it and everything!”

Now, TK didn’t cook much, but when he did, it usually ended with your kitchen looking like a disaster, and you couldn’t imagine that this would be much better. Actually, you were sure this would somehow end up being worse. TK was still pouting at you from across the kitchen, and you sighed. Looked at the gingerbread kits on the table in front of you. 

“Do you even know how to put one of these things together?” you asked. 

TK cheered, taking it for the challenge it was. Hey, so maybe your relationship thrived on a little healthy competition. Travis was already tearing into the boxes, laying out everything that was inside each one.

“Aren’t there instructions on those?” you asked mildly as you watched him throw the destroyed packaging on the floor.

“Nah, that’s cheating,” TK responded, grinning at you. You rolled your eyes and moved to stand next to him at the table. 

“Aright, this was your idea, how we doin’ this, babe?”

TK’s eyes were bright and excited, and he was clearly living for this. Sometimes you wondered what exactly had made you fall in love with this dork, and then he did something like this that reminded you.

“Half hour to assemble and decorate, post pics on your Instagram story or somethin’ and let the people decide who did better.” He was talking fast, words tumbling into each other the way they did when he got excited about something. Human Golden Retriever, indeed. “Which is gonna be me, by the way,” he added.

You snorted. “You’re so full of shit.”

Travis set a timer on his phone, and then it was on. Immediately, TK struggled with even getting the pieces of the house to stick together. His roof kept sliding off, and when you laughed at him, he lunged at your partially assembled house to try and smash it.

“Sabotage! That’s cheating!” you yelled, smacking TK’s hand away. TK grabbed you around the waist, still reaching for your gingerbread house. You flailed, still yelling, and your foot bumped the table, causing TK’s house to fall apart completely. His construction quality clearly needed work. 

“Now who’s cheating?” TK asked.

“You started it!” TK just shook his head at you, but he squeezed out a glob of icing on your roof in retaliation.

It was quiet for a bit as TK focused on rebuilding, and you moved on to decorating, other than TK cursing under his breath every once in a while. When you looked over at him, his house was lopsided, and he had squeezed his bag of icing so hard that it had burst and icing was coming out the wrong end. He had also somehow gotten icing on his forehead.

“Wait,” he said loudly, startling you from where you were piping icicles on your roof. “How the fuck are you doing that?” 

You smirked. “What makes you think I’m gonna tell you that?” “Fuck you,” TK said, but there wasn’t any heat behind it.

Only a couple minutes later, his timer went off, and it was his turn to startle, knocking off a gumdrop from where he was gluing it to the side of his house. “Shit.”

You took a closer look at TK’s gingerbread house for the first time. It was, not surprisingly, a mess, but at least it was standing. There was stray icing everywhere, and it looked like he had just upended the bags of sprinkles and candy all over it. 

“Babe. I feel like there’s more icing on you than on the gingerbread,” you said. 

TK took a moment to look sheepish, looking down at his hands, that were, in fact, sticky with icing up to his wrists. You weren’t sure he was aware that it was also streaked above his eyebrow. But then his face changed, his smile turning a little wicked. You took a step back.

“TK, don’t you dare,” you warned, backing your way around the table until it was between you and your boyfriend.

“What? I just want a kiss,” Travis said, feigning innocence. You snapped a picture of him like that, icing covered hands outstretched towards you, and a crooked grin on his face. He made to lunge around the table at you. 

“You can kiss me after you wash your hands,” you said, your hands up in defense. TK pouted at you again, but turned to the sink to wash his hands. 

While he was doing that, you took pictures of both your gingerbread houses to post to your Instagram story with a poll, without telling everyone which one was whose, though you had a feeling it was pretty obvious. You also added the picture you had just taken of TK on another slide with an eye roll emoji as a caption. 

“Hey, wait, post this one too,” TK, suddenly behind you. A text from him came through then, a picture of you with your tongue sticking out in focus as you piped the icicles on your roof. You didn’t know how he had managed to sneak that picture without you noticing, or without covering his phone in icing,

Later that night, as you were getting ready for bed, you checked the results of the poll. The response was overwhelmingly in favor of your gingerbread house being the winner, including some responses from TK’s teammates roasting him for his decorating skills, or lack thereof. You read them all out to Travis as he settled into bed next to you, grinning as his face grew more and more mutinous.

“I’m gonna kill all those fuckers at practice, tomorrow,” he grumbled. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“Yeah, it was,” you told him, just for the way he gaped at you in betrayal. “It’s okay, though, I still love you,” you added.

TK’s pout melted, just a little, as you pressed a kiss to his cheek and turned out the light.

#cait's holiday prompts #cait writes things #travis konecny #travis konecny fic #travis konecny imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

[argylemnwrites]

Fight or Flight  - Chapter 15: Hiccup

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Heir (canon divergent from the end of book 2)

Word Count: ~4300

Rating: PG-13 (brief language)

Summary: Almost four weeks since The Walker Absconding

Author’s Note: And we’re back! Since it’s been ages... Previously on Fight or Flight - Hana had learned that Barthelemy and Godfrey were working with Auvernal from Kiara, but Liam didn’t seem motivated to take much action regarding that fact. Leo had gotten money and belongings to Riley, who shared an intimate moment with Drake when she returned to their hotel.

This series follows the Walkers, their friends, and Cordonia as a whole after they flee the country with their daughter during Barthelemy Beaumont’s attempted coup. To catch up on this series, check out it’s masterlist. (link can be found via my bio - sorry, Tumblr is once again not putting my posts with links in tag searches)

Liam let out a sigh as he changed the channel back to CBC. He needed to be actively watching, probably should be taking notes, in all honesty. This hour of programming consisted of discussion with three of the most connected political pundits in the country. It was the easiest and most reliable way to get a feel for the leanings of both the journalists and the common citizens, and it aired every weekday, so it was far more up to date than waiting for the biweekly polling.

The issue was that the panelists were revelling in the recent turn of events with such glee. It was understandable, he supposed. This was the most exciting political turn of events this country had seen in centuries. It put the mild speculation that he was Bridget’s biological father, a rumor had surfaced around the time of his announcement that Drake and Riley’s child would be heir and had briefly flared again at Bridget’s first public appearance when people had seen that she indeed looked like a child with some East Asian heritage, to shame. This wasn’t just baseless gossip and stirring the pot to increase ratings. This was true turmoil, plain and simple. There was a relative unknown carrying the power of the Crown, the current Queen-regent had been “kidnapped” and not seen in weeks, citizens were protesting daily, and this was all expected to last for months until the Conclave, where all the tension and drama would culminate in a vote among the five major noble houses to name a new monarch. The journalists and talking heads had a seemingly endless feast in front of them. All of it at his expense.

He took another sip of his scotch as he tried to focus on the screen ahead of him. If he could figure out how to gain a majority of the public’s support, then he could apply some pressure to Kiara and Landon prior to the Conclave vote. Not that he was naive enough to think that would be enough to assure that he would regain his title, but at least it would be one more piece of ammunition in his arsenal.

“The protests outside of the Capital aren’t going to be as easily quieted as the ones in Valtoria, Victor,” Francine Giorano stated, leaning forward and gesturing across the table to Victor Blussé. Blussé was the moderate on the panel, while Giorano was a staunch traditionalist. “They have had fears about the role the essentially-American Walkers played in our government for years, and look how right those fears turned out to be.”

“How is any of this the Walkers’ fault, Francine? This can all be traced to Barthelemy Beaumont!”

“The Conventus Nobilis was written into our foundational laws for a reason, Victor,” chimed in Willa Hyllop, the final member of the panel, added to the program in the past year to bring in a more modern, pro-democratic viewpoint.

“Surely you aren’t saying you are on the side of Beaumont, Willa! He represents an even less progressive faction than Liam Rys ever did.”

“I may not agree with everything he stands for, but I will always support measures that place some checks and accountability on our monarchy,” said Hyllop with a shrug. “Besides, the fact that Rys surrounded himself with yes-men and granted titles and appointments on the basis of friendship since he ascended the throne did little to convince me that he was the ‘progressive king’ he swore he was. He was more of the same, just without the aggressive rhetoric of his father.”

“And look how that turned out! Lest we forget, he stood by while Auvernal brought warships to our shore last year,” added Giorano.

Liam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Giorano and Hyllop were never on the same page about anything, and here they were, agreeing that he had been an ineffectual king. He tuned out Blussé’s response, knowing that some lukewarm rebuttal from him was going to do little to bolster his confidence. The fact was simple - his fall from grace was widespread. There were few left who saw him as worthy of the title of king. He had failed, completely and entirely.

 “Liam?” Olivia’s voice cut over the television. 

Liam opened his eyes to find her staring at him from the lounge’s doorway, a frown cutting across her face. He forced a smile as he gestured for her to join him. “Just taking a little break from hearing how incompetent I am.”

Olivia’s green eyes narrowed at his poor attempt at humor, but she strode over to him, joining him on the couch, undoubtedly taking in the blank notepad, the untouched stacks of documents, and the glass of liquor that sat on the table in front of him. “Well, that’s the perception we’re going to have to work to change.”

He tipped his head to rest along the back of the couch, sighing as he did so. “I know, Liv. It just seems so impossible at the moment.”

She didn’t say anything for several excruciating seconds. He rolled his head to the side, taking in her face, concerned eyes boring into him as she slid a hand around her neck, her blood-red nails digging into her skin. “We’ve got months still, Liam. Calling our goal impossible is premature.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right, and I’m all ears if you have any recommendations for where to start.”

“Well, I got confirmation that Landon and Emmeline’s driver is loyal to us, so Ray is going to approach him at the Derby this weekend to see if he might be willing to earn a little extra cash by divulging some secrets. And their new head of kitchen has a brother with significant gambling debts, so that’s another lead worth pursuing.”

“Sounds good, Olivia.”

“Now, as far as next steps for you, I was hoping you might give reporters a few minutes for questions before the derby.”

Liam swallowed, his brain scrambling to come up with a reason, any reason, against her suggestion, when his phone vibrated on the table, the name “Bastien” flashing across the screen.

“Why is he calling you?” Olivia asked. All Liam could do was shrug as he leaned forward, grabbing his phone and swiping to accept the call.

“Bastien?”

“I don’t have long,” he started, not even taking the time for a greeting. “I don’t know if you are in touch with Drake, but if you are, you need to let him know that they need to get out of Athens.”

“What are you-”

“Rashad is negotiating with Greek authorities right now to allow the King’s Guard to be the ones to make the arrest. We are waiting on the tarmac for clearance to fly to Athens.”

“How-”

“He’s requesting Greek surveillance of their hotel until we get there. They need to leave now.”

“Bastien, what-”

“I have to go.” And then, the line was dead.

Liam sat there, numb and frozen, trying to process the slew of information that had just been dumped into his lap by his former head of security. 

“What the hell is going on?” Olivia’s voice drew him out of his daze, prompting him to set down his phone on the couch, digging frantically through the stacks of papers.

“I need my burner.” He heard his voice as if he were an outsider observer. It was thin and shaky, frail and panicked. His hands shook as he felt around the table in front of him, knocking over a pile containing reproductions of the accounts of the last Conclave, dozens of papers spilling onto the floor.

“Liam, what the fuck did he tell you?”

“They know where they are. We have to warn them.” All his frustrations and pain related to Drake and Riley suddenly felt so petty, so ridiculous. The stakes were higher for them, always had been higher for them. They were about to get arrested over wanting to keep custody of their daughter. And while they left him to fend for himself, left Cordonia in a state of political upheaval, he knew that was a price that was wildly unfair.

“Who knows where they are? Rashad?”

“Yes,” said Liam, shoving more and more documents around the table. Where was his burner?

“How does he know?”

“I don’t know! Where the fuck is it?” Liam swiped his arm across the table, books and papers flying, the sound of glass breaking echoing through the room as his scotch tumbled to the ground.

A strong set of fingers with sharp red nails slid around his wrist, holding him still. He took a rough breath as he turned to face Olivia, who was eyeing him as she tugged her own burner out of her pocket, only breaking his gaze to glance down at the screen, tapping three times before holding it to her ear and looking back at Liam.

The few seconds of silence on her end were maddening, but then she was speaking, her voice curt and all business. “Drake, authorities are coming. You gotta go. Now.”

Liam tried to rein in his rapid breathing, tried to calm his heart rate down to something more human. “The King’s Guard is flying into Athens. They are leaving now. Rashad asked for Greek surveillance until-” but Olivia nodded at him, cutting him off.

“I don’t know how. But your hotel is about to be under Greek surveillance until the King’s Guard arrives, so you guys have to get moving. Good luck.” She hung up at that, letting out a massive sigh. “Shit,” she breathed out after a few seconds, her eyes bouncing back and forth before she slammed them shut, clearly planning and preparing.

Liam felt her fingers trembling around his wrist for just a second, but then she let go. She pushed herself off the couch with a flourish. “Find your burner. I’m gonna make some calls, but we need to destroy any evidence that we were in contact with them,” she said, nearly jogging towards the door.

“Olivia…”

She spun around and let out a little breath before walking back towards the couch. Her hand settled on his shoulder with a gentle squeeze as she gave him a nod. “We warned them as soon as we could, but we need to be the ones worried about the big picture right now. And things will only be worse for them if you and I are arrested, right?”

All he could do was nod. She was 100 percent correct.

“Okay, so find your burner. I’ll be back in a little bit, Liam.” And with that, she was off, a woman on a mission, leaving him sitting there, shaking on the couch, just trying to find his footing.

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

Hana shook hands with the final citizen, a woman in her late 40s who had been born and raised in Valtoria.

“Thank you so much, Your Grace,” she said, smiling as she returned the handshake.

“Of course. Just because our country is going through a period of transition doesn’t mean that I am going to ignore the needs of Valtoria’s citizens.”

The woman thanked her again before turning and exiting the formal dining room, the location Hana had chosen for the first Citizen Open Forum she’d scheduled. The large table provided ample seating, but the room was close enough to the main entrance to make it unlikely that anyone could wander into private areas of the estate without being caught by staff. 

Olivia had been irritated when Hana had told her she was opening up the estate to the public. “You are giving Barthelemy’s people free access,” she told her. But Hana knew that she couldn’t just sidestep her duties as a duchess. Not only would that weaken people’s perception of Liam by association, but morally she just couldn’t do that. The country was in such turmoil because of a few members of the nobility trying to wrest power from some other nobles. For her citizens to be left neglected due to the whims of the highly privileged was ethically something she couldn’t allow to happen. So she’d hosted the forum, hearing directly from Valtoria’s residents what she should prioritize to improve their lives, but made sure to instruct her staff to notify her immediately if anyone was caught wandering too far from the dining room or bathroom. It was the best she felt she could do under the circumstances.

However, the last citizen had now vacated the estate, and Hana couldn’t help but let out a contented sigh. It had gone well, she thought. She had clear budgetary priorities to request at the upcoming meeting between the social season’s derby and the stop in Lythikos. Plus, one of the leaders of the protesters in front of the estate had come, and conversation with him had been productive. Obviously, she couldn’t outright tell him that she wished she could be right out there with them, carrying a sign that said “She’s their kid,” but he had given her a knowing smile when she told him she saw no reason to intervene when Cordonia citizens were just exercising a right to free speech. He had all but promised her that the protests would stay peaceful and would not target her for her assumption of the role of Duchess of Valtoria.

As she wandered into the kitchen to make herself some tea, she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. She turned on the tap to fill the kettle with one hand as she moved to answer the call with the other.

“Olivia, how are you?” she asked, watching the kettle fill.

“Do you not answer your phone anymore?”

Hana frowned, pulling the phone away from her ear and swiping the screen. “I don’t have any missed calls, Olivia.”

“Not this phone. I’ve called you no less than ten times.”

She turned off the tap and set the full kettle on the counter, a nagging thread of anxiety and fear worming its way into her heart with that statement. “What’s wrong?”

“Turn on the news.”

Hana spun around, finding the remote laying on the island and turning on the television mounted in the eat-in nook.

“-these exclusively obtained photos show a woman who appears to be the former duchess, Riley Walker, conversing with the former Crown Prince, Leo Rys, at a bar in Athens.”

The screen filled with a low-quality image, clearly zoomed in several times. The lighting was a sort of orange color, and the faces were grainy and fuzzy, but there was Riley, although her hair was clearly dyed a much lighter color. Leo’s face was only seen in profile, not as identifiable, but he was obviously talking to her. The screen changed to a new photo, Leo a bit more recognizable in this one, passing Riley something.

“Oh no,” said Hana, leaning against the counter.

“-clear evidence of collusion between the former Crown Prince and Riley Walker, who has been charged with treason and kidnapping of the monarch,” the anchor droned on, but Olivia’s response drowned out the quiet volume of the television.

“Yeah, that’s an understatement. So what was so pressing that you were ignoring your burner?”

“I had the forum with the citizens, and I thought if I was carrying two cell phones, that might-”

A massive groan from Olivia cut her off. “Whatever. Well, you need to destroy your burner. Now.”

“But what about Riley and-”

“I warned them. Hopefully they are able to get out of Athens, but nothing else we can do there. It’s time to protect ourselves.”

“Olivia, what-”

“I gotta go check on Liam. Destroy the phone, Hana. And don’t call me.”

“Why can’t I-”

“-Liam is definitely going to be questioned since Leo is now known to be involved. We can talk at the derby, but if they start monitoring our phone records, I don’t want to give them any reason to think we are scheming.”

Before Hana could as much as tell Olivia she understood, she heard the line click dead. Taking a few seconds for some calming breaths, she centered herself before she climbed the stairs to her quarters, a pit of dread cementing itself firmly in her stomach with each step. She reached her room and opened the top drawer of her dresser, pulling the burner phone out from underneath her nylons. Sure enough, she had dozens of missed notifications from Olivia, and a couple from Maxwell as well. Well, she knew what those were regarding. No need to deal with them at this point. Instead, she walked over to her dressing table and grabbed her manicure kit.

She wandered down the hallway towards the lounge, taking in the quiet and calm. It was odd; the estate probably had more people in it currently than it had for most of the time Riley and Drake had lived there. Hana didn’t feel compelled to aggressively minimize the staff presence like they had, far more used to having employees around from her upbringing. But staff were expected to be as discreet and silent as possible, to make themselves scarce, particularly in the private quarters. 

No one had ever called Riley quiet. There was a certain vibrancy she brought to any room, and her voice and laughter were always echoing through the halls. And even though Drake wasn’t the most talkative, he certainly would quip, snark, and joke in the privacy of his own home. Of course, once Bridget was born, there was more noise and energy and life than ever before. Now, it was just Hana and the corgis. The estate felt hollow and soulless.

Once in the lounge, Hana shut the door behind her firmly. Anderson glanced up, but quickly draped his head back over Vera, all the dogs curled up on their giant cushion in the corner. Hana knew that the maids had cleaned the lounge yesterday, so she was unlikely to be found there. She sat down in one of the armchairs, and pried the cover off the back of her phone using her cuticle pusher. All the electronic components stared up at her, ready for her to do her worst. But before she could bring herself to kill the only connection she had to her best friend, she flipped the phone over and sent one last message to Riley.

I love you all. Stay safe. I’ll find a way to get in touch when I can.

Letting out a sigh, she turned the phone back over. She spent the next 15 minutes prying off motherboards and any chips and cards she could find, dropping them one by one into her container of acetone nail polish remover. Then, she removed the battery before placing the remaining elements into the fireplace. She would just have to store the battery under her floorboards until she could figure out how to safely dispose of it. 

She started a fire, then curled up on the couch, tugging a quilt over her lap as she watched her only connection to the first person to show her unconditional love melt and warp, eventually turning to ash. Tears started trailing down her cheeks, dripping onto her blouse and the quilt, but she didn’t care. She was devastated - for herself, for her found family, and for her country. At some point, Anderson jumped up to join her, nestling in against her legs.

“I miss them so much,” she said, dropping a hand to the top of his head. “So, so much.”

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

Bridget was wailing in her crib, but Riley didn’t have time to calm her. She needed to pack. Now.

When Drake had called her, she knew something bad was happening. He’d left with their passports this afternoon to take them to a cousin of a friend of someone Drake had met at the restaurant, someone who was supposed to be able to help with fake documents and forgeries. The plan had been to change their names and their country of origin, allowing them to catch a flight to the States without getting stopped at the airport. The final destination once there hadn’t been decided. Drake had wanted to go to Texas, but Leona’s presence scared Riley. She had already sold out their safety for a quick payday once before.

But that debate was a moot point now. So was the uncertainty about this unknown forger on whom they were relying. Drake had called, frantic and alarmed, clearly running and somewhat out of breath as he spoke to her. Telling her Olivia had called to warn them they were about to be arrested. Telling her to pack. Telling her they needed to run.

So Bridget was unceremoniously dumped into her travel crib as Riley tried to shove everything into the duffel bags from Leo. She knew she should leave the impractical things, like the framed photos, but those would incriminate their friends. So they had to come with. Toiletries seemed essential, too. Some of the clothes were going to have to get left behind. Some of the toys as well. She had to be able to carry everything in one trip. She had to get to the car as quickly as possible. 

She knew it had probably been less than five minutes since Drake had called, but it felt like she was moving too slowly, taking way too long. Drake hadn’t given her any sort of time frame. Who knew if Olivia had even given him one. But for all she knew, police were rounding the corner, waiting for her in the hallway, about to burst through the hotel door. So she shoved and crammed and squeezed everything she could into the duffel bags and the diaper bag. Those would go over her shoulders, the crib would collapse and go in one arm, Bridget in the other. That would have to be good enough. 

Once she was sure that the bags were as full as they could be, she pulled Bridget out, placing her on the floor as she scrambled to collapse the crib, fumbling with the locking mechanism for just a few seconds before it folded in on itself, allowing her to tuck it into her elbow. By some mad miracle, Bridget was hanging close by, not trying to crawl away to explore and cause trouble. Maybe she was frightened by the way Riley was acting. Regardless, it was a blessing.

Knowing she was as ready as she was going to be, she loaded everything up and grabbed Bridget, pausing just briefly to juggle their possessions as she opened the door. She didn’t bother closing it behind her, just moved as quickly as she could with her load down the hallway, down the stairs, through the lobby, and around the corner to the street where their car was parked. No one tried to stop her or talk to her, so she took the time to toss everything on the ground and properly latch Bridget into her car seat. Then, she threw everything in the hatchback before climbing into the passenger’s seat and locking the doors behind her. Bridget continued to cry, but there was little Riley could do to comfort her at this point. All that was left to do was wait for Drake.

Drake had told her to meet him in the car, but she didn’t like feeling exposed, sitting where anyone could see her during broad daylight. Add to that the fact that she was in the passenger seat, so she wouldn’t even be able to make a quick getaway if need be. Her piss-poor driving skills were just one more area where she was making their life harder, but there was no way to fix that right now. All she could do was hang tight. She was contemplating what in the car she could use as a weapon if it came down to it when her phone buzzed. She swiped to answer instantly when she saw it was Drake’s number.

“Drake, where are you?”

“Around the corner from the hotel. You in the car?”

“Yeah. How did-” but before she could get her question out, she saw Drake through the driver’s side window. She let out a little yelp of surprise before reaching over and unlocking the door, handing him the keys as soon as he sat down. 

He didn’t even bother to say anything, just started the car and eased off the clutch as he shifted into first gear, pulling out onto the road. Bridget quieted soon after they got moving, but Riley didn’t feel any better as the yelling and screaming subsided. She just stared at Drake, one hand braced on the steering wheel, the other on the gear shift, his neck and shoulders so tense and coiled, he looked ready to burst.

“Where are we going?” she finally chanced asking.

Drake shook his head, never taking his eyes off the road. “I don’t know. Out of Athens.”

“Then why are we making so many turns?”

“Don’t know if we were being watched or followed. Gotta lose anyone who might be tailing us.” His voice was clipped and frayed. He sounded about five seconds away from losing it completely. Riley wanted to hold his hand, to comfort him in some way. But she didn’t want to distract him, both from driving and from the tiny amount of control he had over his emotional response to everything that was unfolding. After all, they weren’t safe yet. So she just nodded and grabbed her phone off her lap.

“I’ll pull up some maps, okay?”

He nodded and let out a rough breath at that. “Thanks, Walker,” he said before flipping on the radio. “Can you try and find us a news station?”

“Drake, I won’t-”

“I’ll translate.”

And so they were off, unsure where or how far they needed to go to be safe. All they could do at this point was keep moving forward.

Perma: @walkerswhiskeygirl​ @octobereighth​ @kimmiedoo5​ @mom2000aggie​

TRR/TRH: @twinkleallnight​ @iaminlovewithtrr​ @mskaneko​ @axwalker​ @jovialyouthmusic​ @marshmallowsandfire​ @kingliam2019​ @sirbeepsalot​ @texaskitten30 @princessleac1​ @ladyangel70​ @debramcg1106​ @masterofbluff​  

Drake/MC:  @no-one-u-know   @iplaydrake​

FoF: @burnsoslow​ @bobasheebaby​

#drake walker #drake x mc #trh au fanfic #trh au #trh fanfic #king liam #olivia nevrakis #hana lee #choices fanfiction

[chokeoutcamp]

Episode One - Nothing Of Value

Welcome to the very first episode of Inter-zone Touristry’s first foray into the entertainment industry! We would like to take this moment to remind everyone that this experience is completely interactive! Those lucky enough to have been given access to this site will be able to take part in the events in their own way by voting for characters on popularity polls, picking out camp activities, and letting their thoughts be known! 

We strive to create an experience that is not only thrilling and fulfilling, but also a boost to the natural state of the world. After all, clean living has always been at the heart of our company - and that’s not going to change anytime soon.

So please - sit back, relax, and enjoy the first episode! And remember: by the end of this series, you might just be the one to decide who lives and who dies.

Chapter One Nothing Has Value

The bus stops in front of an old wooden sign a good half mile outside of the actual camp, and the doors creak open on their hinges with a ugly sort of squeak. “Alright,” says David, in that tired way he’s been addressing them the whole time. Something about his demeanor makes it clear that he doesn’t want to be at this camp anymore than the rest of them. “We’ll have to walk from here.”

“Come on,” complains a big burly guy up front. Slicked back hair and quarterback build. There’s a pack of cigarettes shoved into the back of his jeans and Zeke plans on grabbing them the first chance that he gets. “You’re shitting me.”

David just gives them a tight lipped smile and gets up, stepping off the bus. There’s a ruckus and a round of complaints, but the bus driver ignores them completely - headphones in, right, doesn’t even glance in the rearview mirror - and eventually everyone realizes that they don’t have any choice but to get off. The kids with bags bring their bags and the kids without bags kick at the rows of ripped up blue plastic seats as they storm off.

Zeke waits until Cody gets up and then stamps out behind the bigger boy, stained up jacket thrown over one shoulder. It’s hot and muggy out. Zeke’s instantly sweating. There’s an old wooden sign marking the path ahead.

WELCOME TO CAMP EVERGREEN, it says, in botched chipped paint. WHERE THE SUN IS ALWAYS SHINING. 

There’s a broken toilet on the ground at the base of the sign, half hidden by weeds. David’s trying to stand in front of it to hide it from sight, but he can’t quite manage it.

That one’s a sign too. WELCOME TO CAMP EVERGREEN, says the toilet. WHERE THERE’S NOTHING OF VALUE.

“Alright,” says David. “The road up ahead gets pretty rough so - we have to walk from here.” He tries to look excited about it and doesn’t quite manage to pull it off. The guy should take a couple of acting classes or something. “But it’s… pretty.”

Zeke stares at the toilet. 

David also glances at the toilet. Then he sighs, claps his hands together, and says, “alright, let’s just get moving. I’ve counted you all. The head councilor has all of your names. Please at least wait to run off until after we get onto camp grounds.”

Someone snickers. “No promises.”

David looks utterly unamused but he doesn’t drag it out into some stupidly long, boring pep speech either. He just turns and starts walking. The kids fall into step behind him. Zeke eyes up a couple of the ones who are really twitchy looking and then knocks an elbow into Cody’s side. “Hey. That one’s gonna be gone before the end of the day.”

Zeke jerks his chin at a skinny red haired guy. He’s staring at the ground and the trees as if they’re personally offending him. Cody snickers. “Yeah, probably.” And then, “what’s with this asshole, huh?”

“Dunno. Maybe councilors get paid a lotta cash.”

“I don’t think they get paid shit. It’s like, summer job right?”

“Yeah, yeah, kids don’t,” says Zeke. “But that guy looks old as fuck. He’s probably getting paid something.”

Old as fuck is maybe an exagerattion. David’s probably in his forties, or otherwise he’s young and just looks like shit. Their guide leads them down the pitted out dirt road. He wasn’t wrong about the fact it’s trash. There are deep gulleys in either side of it, filled up with mud that could probably suck  shoe right off of a guy, and the rest of it’s rocky and uneven. 

It makes Zeke’s ankles ache. His flop flops smack loudly against the bottoms of his feet. Cody spends a little bit of time watching David and then agrees, “yeah, I guess. I mean, does it fucking matter?”

“Guess not,” says Zeke, shrugging. “S’hot out.”

“Ugh.” Cody tilts his head back and scowls up at the sky. “Yeah. This sucks.”

It does.

The half mile walk up the road sucks and it’s not much better when the camp comes into view. For one, Zeke is pretty sure there’s not a single person in the group that wanted to come to this camp originally, and they sure don’t want to be here now that they’ve spent the last hour hiking around at the hottest part of the day. For another, the camp kind of looks like trash.

There’s a big arched sign at the front marking the official entrance. WELCOME TO CAMP EVERGREEN, it says, with a few stupid looking pine trees painted onto either side. Zeke bets that it’s going to take two days before someone’s climbed up there and drawn dicks on it. He bets that it’s going to be him. 

The road itself just ends a few feet into the camp grounds. They’re big, which Zeke guesses is kind of cool. He can make out a slew of cabins on the far side of the grounds, figures those will probably be the bed. There’s a bigger one over here, and a large wooden stage looking platform. A few trails are visible spiraling off in various directions. 

“Alright,” says David. “I need you all to go sit over there.” He gestures to the metal benches set out by the stage. They glint ominously white hot in the summer sun. “And… Miss Dufrey will be here shortly to help get you split up into cabins.”

The red haired kid that Zeke clocked earlier announces, “this is stupid.”

David just gives them a watery smile. “At least you’ll all be sitting.”

And then just stands there and waits until the group stomps their way over to the benches. Zeke eyes the hot metal of one of the very back bench seats. He’s wearing shorts. 

Cody on the other hand is wearing jeans. He sits down with no problems. Zeke, shit eating grin on his face, drops into Cody’s lap. He pats his thigh. “Cushy.”

“Asshole,” mutters Cody, shoving Zeke down onto the ground between his feet instead. He spreads his legs so there’s room for Zeke to settle in. Zeke rests a cheek against the side of Cody’s knee. 

“Fuck. My feet are killing me.”

“That’s because you’re in flip flops, Zeke. I know you have shoes. Wear them.”

“I don’t like them as much. They make my feet hurt too.”

“You make my brain hurt,” mutters Cody.

A few people in Camp Evergreen uniforms finally make their way to the stage. Among them is an older woman with graying hair pulled up into a ridiculous pouf of a hair style and bobby pinned at the back. She walks right up to the microphone, taps and twice, and then announces, “Goooood moooorning campers! I’m Miss Dufrey and we are just soooo happy to have you with us this summer!”

She’s met with cricket silence. 

That doesn’t deter her in the least. Miss Dufrey continues, “I know that it was such a long ride out here, and that hike wasn’t too easy either, so we’re going to keep things nice and short today. You will be split into four campers per cabin. Each cabin block will have its own councilor!”

Miss Dufrey gestures to the handful of people that came out with her. One of them waves. Most of them don’t. David slinks across to join them like a dog that’s been yelled at.

Miss Dufrey continues, “while you’re here, we’ll go through all sort of summer activities - hiking, trips to the lake, and even some good old fashioned arts and crafts days. There will be laminated itineraries passed out at breakfast tomorrow morning - which is at seven AM sharp!”

“What the fuck,” says one of the kids up front, groaning.

He’s completely ignored. Miss Dufrey pulls away from the microphone just long enough to clap her hands together a few times and then says, “We’re going to have a grand time here. I just know it!”

* * * 

The cabins are split into groups of two. Four campers per cabin, two cabins per block, and one block per councilor. David ends up getting Cell Block - that is, Cabin Block C, which Zeke and Cody are quick to jump into.

“He looks like a pushover,” mutters Cody, as they’re led off to their respective cabin.

Zeke snickers, “fuck yeah.”

The cabins for this block are close together; an alley’s length between them. They sit up on raised platforms, with three steps that lead up onto the platform. A solar powered lantern is attached to the wall next to the door, which has C2 painted on it in black.

Danny opens the door and lets them inside. There are two bunk beds, and an old wooden dresser at the far wall. A small table takes up most of the middle of the floor. “Alright. This is where you’ll sleep. Toilets are in the shower stall that we passed earlier. They want lights out at, ah, eight.” A pause and then a shrug of his shoulders. “But as long as you keep it quiet, you can stay up past then.”

Cody knocks his elbow into Zeke’s side and snickers. A third member of their group, Brandon, moves to take first pick of the beds. His friend, West, is quick to follow after him.

“What about food, huh?” Zeke challenges. “They not gonna do dinner tonight or what?”

“Dinner is normally at five, but we’re just doing… fires tonight. Separate ones.” David sounds the opposite of thrilled for that. “So… hot dogs, probably. I might be able to get a bag of marshmallows.”

West says, “great. Cause that’s what I always eat for dinner.”

“Least we’re eating,” grumbles Cody. He lays claim to the bottom bunk of the other bed. “Zeke. Come put on actual shoes.”

Zeke sticks his tongue out at Cody. The door closes with a soft thump; David gone without so much as another word. What a weird dude.

EPISODE END - stay tuned for the first poll!

#episode one #nanowrimo #choke out camp #episodes #writeblr

[justanotherlifeff]

You hated Bakugou Katsuki with every single fiber of your body. Yes, at the moment, you were running around on the streets, trying to find the site at which Bakugou was currently fighting a villain. You had finally taken it upon yourself to stop the angry blond from ruining his reputation any further by intervening whenever he had to deal with the press. Which basically meant, you had to track him during his patrols, find out where the hell he is fighting a villain and be there to stop him from running his mouth. Thanks to that, the press has now recognized as ‘the mom assistant’ as the news articles said, much to Bakugou’s irritation.

“Bakugou-kun!” you yelled, catching the blonde’s attention as he was close to starting an argument with the reporter talking to him. “Why the fuck do you always have to butt in?” Bakugou yelled at you, clearly furious, possibly because of something the reporter said. “Well, cause you need to keep your mouth in check!” you snapped at him before smiling at the reporter and saying, “Sorry sir, we’ll have to cut this short” and pulled Bakugou out of the crowd. “Stop pulling me dimwit!” Bakugou barked, yet letting you take him away despite his ability to yank you off. “Well, do you think Deku-san is gonna yell at reporters? Why do you think you never cross him at the popularity poll? Fan votes aren’t everything you know. We both want you to be the number 1, Bakugou-kun” you lectured him, something that worked every single time somehow.

Bakugou only let out a small grunt in reply, liking the fact that you always told him that you wanted him to be the number 1. In fact, he started the argument with the reporter only to have you lecture him. He had been causing way more trouble for you than usual just to hear you say how much you want him to be the number 1, since his ego, which was as big as an entire dinosaur, did not allow him to just ask you to praise him. Little did he know, it only made you more overworked, more frustrated with him.

Yes, you were absolutely hopeless on how to deal with his PR issues. The fact that you had a rather personal connection to his antics did not help either. You were wondering whether your plan to spend more time with him was a mistake, but, you did not have the heart to stop all that meaningless cooking sessions, which were not really cooking sessions anymore, but more like just hanging out together at your apartment, watching random stuff on the TV while eating whatever food he helped you cook up. Sometimes, he would ask you to show up at his regular gym with food and you would just wait there and watch him work out. The two of you would talk, and sometimes he would help you work out as well since “you can’t possibly protect yourself with that noodle arms dumbass!”.

You were at home, at 12am, thinking about possible solutions to handling a way more troublesome Bakugou, when you got a call from the team leader of his PR team. “What the fuck did he do again?” you wondered as you picked the call up. “What did he do now?” you asked, frustration clear in his voice. “Check Chargebolt’s Instagram. We are currently contacting his PR team to take down the post but seems like Chargebolt hacked into it pretty well. I’m surprised that someone as dumb as him was able to do something like that. I need you to find Bakugou and Chargebolt and get rid of the post before any further damage is done.” Was all he said before hanging up. “Damn, it must be bad…” you muttered as you got into Chargebolt’s profile. And damn, it really was bad.

The picture was of a very drunk Bakugou, who was smiling smugly at the camera. However, that wasn’t the bad part. The bad part was the two girls on both his laps, two girls who had claimed to have slept with Bakugou in the past, something you had a hard time handling, both as an assistant and as someone who was unfortunate enough to be in love with Bakugou Katsuki himself. “OH, HELL NO! NOT ON MY WATCH!” You gritted your teeth, obviously tired of his bullshit, as you slipped into some decent clothes and ran to catch the train closest to the address of nightclub that his PR team texted you about.

As soon as you reached, the bouncer stopped you, as he thought that you were a random civilian trying to get into the heroes only club. “I’m Bakugou Katsuki’s assistant. I’ve got my ID card. I need to talk to him urgently.” You told him, showing your ID card. “I’m sorry ma’am, I’m not allowed to let anyone who’s not a hero in.” the bouncer answered calmly. “Well, then I’m sorry about this.” You muttered before making a run towards the entrance, without giving the bouncer the chance to catch you. For once, you were thankful to your brat of a boss for making sure you had the stamina to run fast, thanks to tracking him all over the city for the last few months.

Thankfully, you found him quite fast, still with those two obnoxious fangirls as you charged towards him. “BAKUGOU FUCKING KATSUKI, WE NEED TO FUCKING TALK!” You snarled at him. “Damnnnn, you get all the hotties don’tcha Kacchan?” you heard Chargebolt laugh from a chair nearby, having a drink. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Bakugou asked, not even hiding the blush as he found you being angry immensely attractive. However, you were not looking at him at the moment. In fact, you were glaring so hard at Kaminari that if you had an eye lazer quirk, he’d be dead five times over.

“You, delete that fucking post. NOW!” you scolded the now scared lightening hero. “Damn… Okay okay I’m doing it jeez! You’re scarier than Bakugou wtf?” Kaminari chuckled nervously as he deleted the post with shaky hands. “Good. I’ll make sure your PR team gives you hell if you pull any shit like this again.” You gave the nervous man one last glare before directing all your wrath to Bakugou.

For once, he was smart enough to ditch the fangirls, knowing very well that pissing you off now would not end well, no matter how hot you look at the moment. “You, are coming with me.” You told him quietly, venom in your voice. The bouncer finally found you at that moment and tried to apologize to Bakugou about letting you in, however, Bakugou muttering a small “it’s fine” to him told him all about you in an instant. The pro hero never spoke quietly, which only meant that you must be important enough to interrupt his night.

“You’re too drunk to drive. Gimme your keys.” You muttered as you got out of the club with a rather tame looking Bakugou. “You can drive?” he asked, to which you snapped, “Just cause I don’t have a car doesn’t mean I can’t drive, asshole!”. To that, he simply handed over the keys to his Lamborghini to you, which you used to unlock his car and get in. Bakugou got into the passenger’s seat and after a brief moment of uncomfortable silence, he asked, “So, where are we going?” to which you answered, “your penthouse.”. “How the fuck do you know my address?” he asked. “I’m your assistant, Bakugou.” You answered, not looking at him.

The rest of the ride passed in a tense silence as you finally reached the parking lot of his penthouse. After putting his car in the designated area, you decided that enough was enough. You did not want to deal with these feelings anymore. You did not want to deal with situations where he looked at other women the way you wanted him to look at you. You decided that you should rip the bandage then and there. “Bakugou, I wanna quit the job. I’ll bring the resignation letter tomorrow.” You muttered.

To say that Bakugou was in shock was an understatement. “What? What the fuck? Why?” he asked, not hiding the hurt expression on his face. “I can’t take this anymore. Do you even realize how much trouble you cause? Why did I have to show up at a random high class night club today, run from the bouncer, shout at another top pro hero to delete YOUR picture with some random women all because you can’t keep it in your pants? Why do you constantly cause all that PR nightmare? It’s only gotten worse since I started cooking for you. One moment, you try to show up at my home to hang out for no reason and then you go through all the effort to make life harder for me. What do you want from me, Bakugou? Have I done anything wrong? Honestly, this is exactly why Deku is the number 1 hero and you’re not. If I were Deku’s assistant, he wouldn’t have….” Your voice cracked but you were stopped by Bakugou.

“You’re not his assistant. Don’t fucking say good things about him. You’re mine, (Y/N). Not Deku’s, not anyone’s, but mine.” Bakugou growled possessively. “I’m not yours, Bakugou. Those girls you sleep with on a daily basis, they are yours. I don’t want to be with someone who fucks around with random women who throw themselves at them.” You snapped back and for once, Bakugou realized that he messed up.

At the beginning, Bakugou always did as he pleased as 1, his fans loved whatever the hell he did and 2, he got his dick wet so basically, it was always a win-win situation for him. After you fell into his life (quite literally), he found out that he should do as he pleases as 1, again, his fans loved whatever the hell he did and 2, his overinflated ego wouldn’t let him confess his feelings towards you, which is why, it started as him trying to deny his feelings by fucking someone else and later, when he realized that it wasn’t working, he stopped the fucking, but pretended that he didn’t stop it, assuming that you would get jealous and confess to him first. However, now he realized that he judged the situation completely wrong.

“I won’t change what I said, (L/N). You’re mine. I’m saying that, considering everything you just said to me.” Bakugou answered after a brief pause. “So, you’re trying to tell me that you did not sleep with anyone.” You asked him with a deadpan expression. “I stopped two months ago. Pikachu posted that picture because I asked him to. I wanted you to think that I didn’t stop. You can ask all my friends about it.” Bakugou muttered, looking clearly embarrassed. “And why the fuck would you want me to think you’re fucking around?” you asked him, clearly confused. “So that you confess first…” Bakugou muttered, looking away in embarrassment.

The two of you sat there in silence before you busted out laughing. “OI! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU LAUGHING ABOUT?” Bakugou yelled at you, his face completely red, making you laugh even harder. “My God, you’re such a tsundere!” you somehow choked out before wheezing due to laughter. Bakugou just sat there like a sulking child till you were done laughing.

“So, you’re mine. That’s settled right?” Bakugou asked you grumpily, as soon as you caught your breath. “You know, out of all the ways I expected you to ask me out, this was definitely not something I expected, and yet, somehow, this sounds exactly like something you’d do.” You chuckled softly. Bakugou only grunted as an answer. A rather comfortable silence fell between the two of you before it was interrupted yet again by Bakugou.

“So, you didn’t say if it was settled or not.” He grumbled. “Yessir, it’s settled.” You answered. A moment later, he asked again, “So, you’re not leaving the job, right?”. “Nope, I’m not.” You answered. Another brief moment later, he demanded, “Tell me that I’m better than Deku.”. “I will, if you behave.” You answered with a smile, to which he replied, “Fuck you”. “Well, then I won’t call you better than Deku” you answered with a sickly-sweet smile, making him pop a vein on his forehead. “Say it!” he barked, only to have you reply, “Deku is better than…” before you were cut off by a kiss.

You absolutely hated Bakugou Katsuki. Yes, you totally hated the fact that he won your heart. Right.

A/N: THERE WILL BE SMUT ON THE NEXT CHAPTER.

Taglist: @bonbonthedragon @the2ndl

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