#and it WORKS because he's smart and fast and strong enough to do that shit

[prettyboykatsuki]

oliver talking his partner through it and calling him d**** god your brain is so huge my stomach hurts thinking about this. he’ll never tell you he loves you to your face and tries to fuck you more like he hates you because he doesn’t want to get too attached but as you’re getting close he’s all in your face and your neck, teasing you, biting your ear and softly begging you to tell him how you feel, how it’ll be better for him if you tell d**** just how close you are and how much you need him. takes you over the crest so sweetly, and continues rolling into you, chasing his own. his kisses are nonstop and so overwhelming, and he knows they are but he just really needs to connect with you like this. never the first to say “i love you” but unfortunately (in his opinion) he expresses it in so many other ways. sorry.

but i crumble completely when you cry | a. oliver

✮ tags ; DADDY KINK, afab + fem!reader, situationship!oliver, hooking up, unresolved romantic tension, p in v, praise, soft sex, it gets emotionally strange, riding, creampies, unprotected sex, under-negotiated kink in a sense though oliver is very careful

✮ wc ; 2.2k (i dont want to talk about it)

✮ a/n ; anon im going to haunt your dreams for putting this absurd image into my head when i dont even go here im crying screaming throwing up ive been thinking about it for hours. hours of my life wasted on this guys dick. upsetting!!!!!

also i do not write this often and do not plan too again any time soon so if ur seeing this and thinking about following me for content like it i would not recommend!!!

✮ synopsis ; you don't trust oliver with your heart or your feelings. nor do you expect anything from him.

but it's hard not to lean into him when he decides to cradle you so gently.

Your relationship with Oliver is both very ambiguous and very clear.

There's a line drawn, and you both steer clear of crossing it in your interactions. Oliver is fun. He's attractive and charming, a massive flirt but just genuine enough to be interesting.

It helps that he's hot. Physically, he's got an unreal build.

He's an athlete, so he's big. Wide chest and strong arms, thick thighs and the height to top it off. He's 6'3, and he's sexy (and his dick is huge) - and you sleep with him because of that. You don't date him explicitly because he's a womanizer. If you'd met when you were a little younger, a little more naive - you might've tried to dog-train him into being your boyfriend.

Because on top of the immaculate dick, he's fun to be around. He's funny, he drinks well, he's not a scumbag in the ways that turn you off.

You're old enough to know better. You have a career. You're too busy, and too jaded about love to try and fix whatever weird shit he has going on. So even if the two of you harbor some sort of emotional or romantic feelings for each other, you're smart enough to not get invested in those feelings and smart enough to have no expectations.

Oliver is your fun. He's your sneaky link, your weekend off. You come to him to blow off steam. You have rough, fast sex and it's good. Sometimes you chill afterwards, and you'll indulge each other in some physical affection but other times you take your shower and leave. It's a good time, and you know well enough not to ever ask him for any of your emotional needs. You have your therapist and girl friends for that.

Normally, when you're having a rough week - it's prime time to go to him. He'll fuck you a little harder than usual, and sometimes he's nice enough to kiss it better. But it's still, very distinctly, never crossing that boundary.

But some weeks, like this week - shit is bad. Not just stressful bad, but everything in the fucking world that could go wrong, is going wrong bad. It's not the kind of thing you can get over by compartmentalizing and even when you try to do your usual thing it doesn't really work.

You're trying right now - to get over the fucked up week you had. And you're turned on, but somehow - it's still not enough to get you completely out of it.

Oliver pauses mid stroke, in missionary - hetero-chromatic eyes staring you down as your thoughts are somewhere else completely. You don't notice the first time he stops, or the first time he calls you.

And he only gets your attention by cupping your face and making you look at him. You startle as you cast your glance his way.

"What's with you?" He asks, though he's not pissed or anything "Not feelin' it? Want me to stop?"

"No, you don't have too."

"Not what I asked," He chastises, letting go of your face "Not having your full attention is making me go soft,"

This makes you laugh, and Oliver cracks a smile seeing the tension melt off your face if only slightly.

"I'm cool with stopping." He assures. You let your hand reach up to his shoulder.

"It's not like I want to stop, necessarily? Like I wanna do something to get my mind off it and sex feels like the best option, but you know how it goes sometimes," You say, trying your best to avoid the emotional baggage of your words "We can stop though. I'll pay you for your wasted time," You tack the joke on at the end to ease the tension.

You're expecting him to pull out and stop, or maybe challenge himself into fucking you so good that you forget. Something more quintessentially Oliver than what he does do.

He gives you a blank look first, than a laugh that is a touch too sincere for you to be comfortable "That bad of a week?"

You're suddenly in dangerous territory. Somehow, this strange intimacy makes all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You swallow thickly, the emotions coming over you so quick you end up looking away.

"Yeah. You know. It's fine, but you know."

"Mm," He says. He leans into your space. His breath is warm and his stubble tickles your skin as he whispers in your ear. You feel your breath hitch. And the air feels heavy "Wanna try somethin' else?"

"Like what?"

"A surprise," He says first, and find your stomach tightening. A hollowness in your nerves "Gotta trust me."

"You're scaring me." You joke.

"I'm a sex expert, you know?" Oliver says, humming against your skin "If I can't remedy your little problem with my dick, it's bad for my street cred. My yelp reviews will tank."

"You're such a dumbass."

"Do you trust me?"

You don't know how to answer. Yes, for the most part. Not with everything, but with your pleasure at least. Whatever this is, it doesn't feel the same. But you say yes, anyways. Oliver kisses your jaw in reply, then he pulls out.

He flips position easily. He ends up on his back, then he grabs you to rest on top of him. You're not sure what you're expecting. He holds you by your hips as your sex hovers over his cock. His thumb is rubbing circles into your skin as he sinks you down slowly onto him.

You only stare at him, mouth opening as you feel him stretch you open for a second time.

You're more aware of it this way. He's so thick, and so intrusive - and normally, you're feeling that in hard strokes. Fast and rough, like something knocking into your cervix. But like this, he's hitting a deep angle. You can feel every curve, every inch, as you come down slowly.

He keeps you there. For longer than you'd expect. Just keeps you, settles you, holds you gently. You stare at him as he grabs your hand, locking your fingers. Your first instinct is to panic, or crack a joke - but there's an intense look in his eye that shuts you up.

Uncharacteristically gentle, you find yourself frightened. Oliver's hands reach for you again. They hold your waist and slide up the planes of your body. He holds your tits in his palms and squeezes.

He does this a lot, but there's not usually this much touching. This much foreplay. It's grabby, a deeper pressure. He doesn't...feel you, in the way he is now. You stare at him, and he looks back at you so fondly you feel a strange urge to pretend it never happened.

"Play with your clit," He says, though there's no urgency in his voice.

Deep and smooth, the timbre in it has you shaking. You listen, on auto-pilot as you play with yourself clumsily and build a slow pressure. He just watches.

"C'mere, baby. And don't stop touching yourself."

Another pause. It's not the first time he's called you that. He likes to call you all sorts of things when you're fucking, and baby is one of the few. But not like that. Not like this. He gives you a lazy, self satisfied smile and encourages you by placing a hand on where he can reach on your low back.

You lean down, and Oliver tucks you into his chest. He's warm, and strong - and smells so good, like musk and cologne. Your free hand is on his chest, as he grips your hips and fucks up into you.

"That's it," His voice is pleasant to your ears. It feels funny to you "Just gotta listen to me."

He starts fucking you slowly. It's a familiar feeling, a pleasant stretch that dulls into a euphoric fullness. But it's never been this slow before. Each thrust is slow, and punctual, and so deep you feel yourself gasping. It's not enough to push you over the edge, but it's enough to make your mind feel a little numb.

You think he's going to keep at you like this, maybe edge you to take you out of it. But he doesn't. He keeps his pace.

"Had a hard time this week, didn't you, tough girl?" He mumbles, so low it doesn't feel real. You feel your heart start to race. You feel your throat start to close around something, choking "Did a good job and came to me. Gonna let me take care of it?"

You stumble. You aren't sure what to say, you nod and hope he feels it. He laughs a little. You can't be sure if you're fucking Oliver or not.

You know it's him but he's never been like this. Not once. Not ever.

"Gonna let daddy take care of you?" He says, though it's tentative. Your breath hitches. Something strange overwhelms your senses "Tell me, baby."

"Uhm," Your first reaction is a sense of resistance, an immediate pull away. Not that you hate it but you aren't sure how to adjust. You squirm, but you don't tell him no. You feel like you can't in this state "Uh-uh,"

He keeps surprising you, pressing his lips to yours where you hover over him, tender as he ups the pace of his thrusts.

"That's what I like to hear," He almost sounds proud "You'll hurt your head if you think too much. And I'd be a bad daddy, letting that happen, yeah?"

A vulnerable, foreign sensation drives you to speak "You're not bad in that way."

He laughs "Just in other ways, right?"

You giggle "Uh-huh."

"But not in this one," He repeats, very carefully. He fucks into you harder now, pays extra special attention to you. It's all for you, is what he's saying in a language completely foreign yet somehow so known. One only the two of you will ever know fully, confined in the four walls of this room "Daddy is good at taking care of you like this, so you should let him do just that. Tough girls always need their daddies, hm?"

It's what ends up tipping you up over the edge. You cling to him, succumbing to whatever weird space the two of you have fallen into you. Suspended in this odd sense of comfort that Oliver has thrust you in unannounced.

You don't trust Oliver with a lot, and this is more than what you should ever find yourself giving. In the back of your head you think you should pull away.

But he's comforting. It feels good, and strangely feels safe - and even for all the ways he's awful, you trust he'd never do anything bad to you. Even if it's a blip in the timeline, for now it's what you need. A blurry cross into your emotional needs that translate into your physical ones. Too much and so overwhelming, you hug closer to him and take a deep breath.

"Mm," You let yourself lean into him. Just this once, you promise yourself. "I wanna cum."

"Want it a little harder?"

"Mhm,"

"Then Daddy will give it to you a little harder, yeah? Anything for you." He says, and you try not to think to deeply on what that really means. Because even in this state you know it's not nothing, but you should never pry "Daddy can give you anything you want."

"Yeah?"

He chuckles a little as he fucks into you hard. Fucks into you how you need. You're wet enough, and wondering if you were always so into being doted on. Or if it's just the fact that it's Oliver. Another thing you decide to overlook as you zero in on the sensation of being pistoned from underneath. You're soaking. The room noisy with the sticky noise of Olivers cock penetrating you over and over, skin hitting skin as his hips press against your ass. His grip is bruising but not intentionally, his chest huffed in pleasure.

He's just as close as you are, you know all of his cues. You play with your clit faster, sensitive bud throbbing hard as all the blood rushes south. Your mouth has fallen open as the slow, thick desire coiling and culminating into something cosmic. Something big and heavy, but not too fast. Not a crash landing like you're used to.

But a single weight, the force of a star dropping to Earth. You figure Oliver is the gravity in your universe, holding you down so you don't float too far. You want to cling onto him for much longer.

And somehow, you're inclined to think he would let you.

"Oliver," You say his name as it builds, then decide on something else "Daddy,"

"I'm here, baby," He says back, like it's all he has to say for everything to make sense when nothing about this does "I'm right here. Let go."

So you do. You cum hard, and it comes in long never ending waves. Too much. It makes you collapse in Olivers arms, both arms coming around his neck as he continues to fuck you through the aftermath.

"Gonna," He voices, rasping as his thrusts become sloppy "Shit. Cumming, shit."

He cums with you, cums deep inside like usual and you mewl at the feeling of being filled with hot, sticky seed.

When it's over, you're almost afraid to look at him. When the tensions settled, and his chest goes back to it's steady breaths - you wonder whats going to happen next.

"Wanna stay like this for a while?"

You nod.

"Mm. Sleepy."

"Stay like this, then. I'll wake you in a little."

"So you can kick me out?" You joke, trying to pretend nothing is different. He pauses.

"Just to shower," He whispers, hand resting on your lower back "Sleep."

There's too much to think about. Tomorrow will be strange. You let yourself succumb to your own exhaustion.

"Okay."

#return to sender #daddy kink cw #oliver x reader #oliver aiku x reader #oliver aiku smut #bllk x reader #bllk smut #writing tag #this wouldve become a 10k fic if i was not so fucking careful

[sneaky-eel]

Sense Ubisoft decided to give us jack shit on Desmond's mother I wanted to do my own little head-canon of her.

Desmond's mother is a cold, no-nonsense woman. A prodigy in her own right who was probably one of the options for the next mentor, but preferred field work. Her acts of love are through services and what is a better service to those she loves then ridding the world of templars. The longest she probably went without being out in the field was when Desmond was born and it isn't till he is 5 or 6 that she goes back out. Now she is working twice as hard. Not just for her fellow assassins, but now she has a son. A son who will be forced to do this same exact thing if she doesn't do something.

So she is around less and less. One day here, two days there. And maybe she thinks she is doing her family a favor. She deludes herself into thinking this will push Bill and Desmond closer together. Desmond will love Bill more because he is there and she is not. But it has the opposite effect. As he gets older Desmond starts to resent Bill. He can never be good enough. Never strong enough or fast enough. He is subjected to a constant stream of belittlement from his father. Bill works all the time and Desmond hates that he is forced to have dinners at an empty table all alone while Bill is in his office. So close but still too far.

But his mother? Oh his mother is his hero because all this time he has been building in his head the idea of what his mother is. An ideal mother. "Yeah she isn't here cause she is keeping us safe. Everyone says how great she is. The best of the best." He tells himself. Then as he gets older he starts to compare Bill to this idea of his mother. "If mom was here she'd be able to explain this better to me. She is really smart.", "When mom gets back I'm sure she can help me with this move. She's the best.", "Once mom gets here we can have dinner like a family, maybe we can cook together." on and on.

Finally, at 16, his mother is home for the first time for a longer than a day. Two whole weeks in fact. And he is so excited only for that reunion to be awkward and kind of cold. He doesn't get those meals together like he hoped. Training with her is worse than his father. With Bill he had learned when the man is actually paying attention and where, which allowed Desmond to slack in other areas, but with his mother she is always watching. She nitpicks every movement and doesn't seem to understand why he can't get something on the first try. She pushes Desmond well past exhaustion and makes him train even past that. Desmond's carefully crafted view of his mother is destroyed in just a few days leaving him empty and convinced that neither of his parents actually love him.

From Desmond's mother's point of view the reunion is "cold" because she doesn't know what to say to her son. She has been gone for so much of his life and the only things she really knows about him are through Bill. She knows he has potential, but he is "disinterested" and "never takes anything seriously" so in training she pushes him. She has been a field agent this whole time. She knows that a single misstep can mean death and Desmond is already 16. In a few more years they will send him on his first mission and she will be damned if she lets him die. Those missed meals together? She is with Bill in his office helping with his work and on occasion they will sit there with a bottle of scotch between them, talking about life before. Before he had to be mentor, when they had at least a little time to themselves. A little time for each other. She doesn't see what she is doing to Desmond.

When it's time for her to leave again she doesn't question Desmond's lack of smile or how he says he is going to go "train", she only thinks 'Good. He is going to start taking things more seriously.' She doesn't think anything is wrong when she gets off the plane and she drives to the safe-house. She doesn't know that Desmond has snuck out. Ran away from the home he believes never even cared about him. Nothing is wrong until Bill calls her and says the three words the shatters her world.

"Desmond is gone."

#assassin's creed #desmond miles #william miles #Desmond miles' mother #written post #can you tell I don't write often? <:D #headcanon #I think both her and Bill tried to show their love through preparing desmond #it just horrible backfired on them #Being a prodigy she never learned how to teach other “regular” people #the fact they never even gave her a name #damn it ubisoft #I want to learn to write so I can feed my own fanfic needs

[queenof-curses]

Kishibe: Paying the Price

Captain Kishibe is right, you'll never be strong enough to kill the Devil that murdered your family. You need to sign a Contract with a Devil fast, but you don't know any that are willing.

Good thing Captain Kishibe is more than willing to help you out, for a price…

Kishibe x Fem!Reader

wc: 3.5k

send me a tip: Ko-Fi

Minors DNI! Explicit Sex, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Cunnilingus, Office Sex, Teacher-Student relationship, Age-gap, a little dark, & NOT beta read!

--

“Decent work today, thanks to me. You’d be dead if I weren’t here, Kid…”

The older man sighs before taking a swig from his flask.

Whiskey, probably… you thought.

He was right though. If Kishibe weren’t there to check up on you during your mission, that Devil probably would’ve killed you. His next words pull you from your self-reflections,

“If you had train as I taught you, you wouldn’t be in a mess on every fucking mission.” He comments. “You have to take my advice, or you’ll never see your next birthday.”

Captain or not, the old man always seemed to pester you about not having any deals yet with a Devil. Your training up to this point with Kishibe has strictly been physical and strategic, and you were starting to feel the consequences of it all.

You joined Public Safety shortly after your family had been killed by a top Devil, being placed in Tokyo’s Special Division 4, under Captain Kishibe because of your smart and quick thinking. Now though, you wonder if that was a mistake…

You didn’t want to sell a part of yourself to a disgusting Devil, but how do you expect to get any stronger? Maybe the Captain was right after all…

Taking a moment to think it out, you finally decide to take a stance. You have to lose some, to win some- right?

You look up at Kishibe, his eyes slightly hooded and glossy (a state he was always in due to the job + alcohol), waiting for your response.

“I’ll do it.” you firmly decided.

He looks at you confused and you roll your eyes.

“Do what?” He asks.

“I’ll make a contract with a Devil… to get stronger. To kill the one responsible for my family’s murder.” You announce it to him.

You sounded so sure of yourself, a tone that Kishibe realized he hadn’t ever heard from you before. It perked him up a bit from his clouded mind.

He was quite proud, then, seeing you so confident. It was so different from the first day he took you into his division. He knew you were going to be great. But you should know- it wasn’t going to be easy.

“Alright,” he says. “And who do you plan on making a deal with?”

*Silence*

You look at him and think about all the Devils you know that would sign a contract with you… coming up empty. They were all dead!

The old man laughs out loud at that, “You don’t even know any one?!” he asks, incredulous.

“Uhhh… no…” is all you could respond with.

“Well shit Kid,” he pauses to think, scratching the rough stubble on his face. “You’re lucky I like you, I’ve got someone just in mind. But..”

He looks you up and down, eyes slowly raking over your body.

You shuffled under his gaze, adjusting your tight suit. Suddenly, you feel like your tie was choking you. Unable to keep cool under his stare, you feel your face flush red.

“But what?” you hesitantly ask.

“But!” He grins… “you’re gonna have to pay for the contact.”

What, just exactly, is up the Captain’s sleeve?

“H-How?”

“I think you know how.” He moves to leave, calling one last line over his shoulder before leaving you. “My office. 10 o’clock tonight. Wear something easy to remove.”

He doesn’t wait for your response before walking out, leaving you with a shocked expression and a wet spot in your panties.

—

Walking up to the Captain’s office was something you were used to, just not in this context. You were hesitant to come, but you couldn’t deny the fact that you were also excited and nervous.

You needed this contact; needed to be strong.

For my family, you think before knocking three times.

*knock knock knock*

“Captain? It’s me…”

“Come in, and close the door behind you.”

You were excitable as you entered.

It was no secret that Kishibe enjoyed his fair share of Alcohol, Devil Hunting, and Women. You just never thought he would find you attractive. He was so much older than you, so much wiser and experienced. Why would you even entertain the idea that he would be interested? Surely this isn’t what you were planning for, right?

Walking into his office, you shut the door softly. Stopping just in front of it, you look at the older man waiting.

Kishibe stood in front of his large, oak desk. His long trench coat was off for once, sitting on the coat rack at the edge of the room. He was wearing the usual uniform of a Devil Hunter, a slim black tie and dress pants. The tight white dress shirt accentuated his muscles, giving his regularly rugged look a more defined stance. His jaw was tense, you could tell even from where you stood.

He’d been waiting for your arrival, and it sent tingles of excitement to your lower parts.

The only light was a desk lamp, illuminating the man from behind and basking his silhouette in a soft yellow glow. The rest of the room was dark; the only occupants being the two of you.

You weren’t sure what to do next, so you stood your ground waiting for further instruction from the man. Your fingers brush against the hem of the short dress you decided to wear. It felt odd to be in this room without your suit and tie on, weapons discarded in the locker room of the building.

You felt exposed in the dress, remembering that your only other articles of clothing were your panties and shoes. A dress this short and tight didn’t have room for a bra, unfortunately, and it didn’t go unnoticed by him.

He watched you play with the short hem, enjoying the visible shyness that crept up your neck. Kishibe was glad you followed instructions, and he admired the tiny playful dress you picked for tonight. He appreciated how your little nipples budded against the thin fabric, and his mouth watered as he thought about sucking on your tits.

Despite his lustful mind, he knew you looked good. The kind of good, he thought, that a girl would choose to go out for a date in.

That wasn’t the plan he had for you tonight, however.

No, tonight he was going to have what he’s been waiting for since the very first time you stepped into this office. He wasn’t a patient man, and he was ready to get started.

He calls your name out loud, his voice making you jump.

“Y-yes, Captain?”

“Come closer, let’s see the pretty little dress you’re wearing.”

You walk towards him, dropping your hands as you make your way over to where he’s leaning against the desk.

Once you’re within arms reach, he grabs you.

Gasping, you suddenly find yourself engulfed in his scent. Cologne and a slight whiskey scent… He smells familiar, you can’t put your finger on it, though. Kind of like home… but do you even remember what home smelled like?

You expect the man to hug you. However, you seem to be wrong.

Your Captain reaches behind your head, grabbing a handful of hair and pulling you towards his shoulder. He tilted your chin up towards his face with his other hand, putting you in a helpless position under him.

A thumb comes to caress your jaw as he hummed in admiration, looking deep into your eyes.

“You know, Kid… I know a lot of Devils. I could make you the strongest member of Division 4. You could finally kill the one that murdered your family. But… it’s gonna cost ya. Are you willing to pay?” He asks you.

You spend a moment to think, though you knew your mind was already made up. You’d do anything to kill the Devil that went after your kin. Revenge was your only priority, but was having sex with your Captain something you’d be willing to do?

The yellow light reflects off his earrings and the sparkle catches your eye…

Kishibe really was a good looking man. You thought about him occasionally, mostly on your lonely nights… And although he was much older than you, he had his shit together.

That is, had his shit together besides the alcohol… and the brutality… and the women….

Okay, so he didn’t really have all his shit together. But he was good looking, fit, and willing to make you stronger. So you decide you need him.

You finally give him his answer.

Looking up at him, you lock your eyes with his before answering, “Yes, Captain…”

His smile stretches from ear to ear at that. He looked down at you and gripped your hair tighter. The pain makes you moan out, a sound he easily found himself wanting to hear more of.

“That’s Master to you, Kid…”

You correct yourself, “Yes Master…”

He grins, “That’s right Kid, and I am about to make you a very happy woman.”

Suddenly, he switches your positions. Flipping you around so that your front now faces his desk, he stands behind you. Using your hair as leverage, he yanks your head to the side, exposing your neck to him.

Hot, wet kisses are placed along your neck as Kishibe grinded his (from what you can only assume to be) huge bulge against you. His hips push your dress up, exposing the black panties you decided to wear for the night.

He groans against your neck as you push back against him. It was getting heated at a pace you weren’t used to. But you couldn’t deny that you were enjoying the passion of it all. You suddenly found yourself desperate, it was as if there was an aphrodisiac laced in the air of the room.

“Master…” you cry out, pushing your backside against his front.

Soft kisses were replaced by rough bites that soon decorated the side of your neck. Each hickey that he left was meant as a reminder of each time he thought about taking you just like this.

All those times Kishibe wanted to lay you out on the desk before him and mark what’s his. You were under his division, and he wanted to own you in every single way. All those filthy thoughts of his were finally coming true, and he was about to savor every delicious moment of it.

He lifts the rest of your dress over your hips before bending you over his desk. You brace yourself so as to not knock your head on the wooden table. Kishibe wasn’t messing around, you realize from his forcefulness.

You felt the cool air hit the heat of your pussy as he pulled your panties down to your ankles, exposing you to the room.

“Oh god,” you gasp out, realizing his hot breath was panting right against your core.

He must be on the floor, you realize, and therefore must be staring directly at your exposed pussy.

You try moving away, but firm hands come up to massage your backside.

“Don’t even try, Y/n, I want to see you…” He whispers, holding you in place.

His hands felt rough from all the years of Devil hunting he had behind him; his fingers were scratchy against the softness of your behind. His ruggedness only made you wetter, loving the savage-tendencies you knew this man had.

He brings his thumbs towards your core, using them to spread your lower lips apart.

You moan, knowing that he could see everything like this. You were exposed to your Master completely, and you knew what he saw was a wet hole that desperately needed fucking.

“This-” he starts before swiping his tongue from clit to your asshole, “is all mine… Got it, Kid?”

Another swipe of his tongue has you seeing stars. Your knees were weak, on the verge of collapsing against his face. You knew to answer him before he denied what you so desperately seeked.

“Yes, Master!” you cry out.

Kishibe laughs, knowing he has you exactly how he’s always wanted you. Spreading your lips further, he sticks his tongue into your folds.

You scream and thrash against his face as he tongue-fucks your pussy with vigor, his nose rubbing against that other dangerous place as you leak into his mouth and drip down his chin.

“Oh god, yes!” you beg him, “Please Master!”

He drives you insane as he brings a tumb to circle your clit, making buck against him like an animal in heat. The rough stubble of his chin teased your folds as you ground yourself onto his face.

Stopping for a moment, he slowly circles your clit with his thumb- edging you, but teasing your orgasm from completely unfolding.

“Do you want to cum?” he mocks. “Do you want to cream all over my face?”

“Fuck- yes! Please!”

“Please, what Kid?”

“Please, Master!” You cry.

He responds in a tone that is almost threatening. “Then do it.”

Diving his face back into your cunt, he slurps and sucks your pussy, alternating between fucking your little hole and dancing his hot tongue across your clit.

It’s enough to drive you past the point of teasing. Your orgasm hits you like a train as you squirt all over Kishibe’s face, soaking him and the floor below in your juices. He encourages you to keep going.

“That’s it, Kid- fuck my face.”

You rock back against his tongue, riding out your pleasure as you feel the wetness against the rough stubble on his chin. You grinded against his face, enjoying the way he ate your pussy like a man starved.

He slowly licked you clean as you came to. After a few moments, you seem to slow your hips and come back down to Earth.

You were a wet mess. Sweaty and covered in your own cum, you pant to try and catch your breath. Attempts to collect your thoughts were made. However, you knew this man wasn’t through with you just yet.

Kishibe stands up, keeping his hands firmly on your hips. His grip was firm, almost bruising.

You knew better than to move- he wanted you there and you would do anything to please him at this point.

“What do you want, Y/n?” He asks you.

You can hear the buckle of his belt jingle as he undoes the strap. The zipper pull is next, and all of a sudden you feel the hot weight of a giant cock sitting against your bare backside.

The heat of his shaft felt like a brand on your skin, and you wiggled your hips to tease the beast.

*slap*

A painful blow comes to your butt, making you yelp out in pain. He didn’t appreciate your teasing.

*slap slap slap*

Your cheeks were on fire as he delivered blow after blow onto your behind. You groaned and moaned underneath him, waiting for his hits to finally end- not daring to move from your spot.

“Now,” he said after a final eighth blow, “What do you want?”

You cry softly, the cracks of his hand that followed too soon after your ograsm left tears in your eyes.

“W-want you, Master!” you say out to him, keeping your eyes fixated on the wall in front of you.

“Want what from me?” He goads.

He’s teasing you, you realize. The embarrassment of this older man making you beg for him pushed the tears over, falling softly onto the desk below you.

“Want you!! I want your cock- Sir, please!” You manage to cry out, but not before feeling inferior under the wrath of his brutality. You were overwhelmed with pain and pleasure; your mind had thoughts of only one thing: Kishibe’s cock.

“If you insist…”

The tip of his shaft runs up and down your wet folds- he coats himself in your juice before stopping at your clit. Circling your little bundle of nerves, he notices how swollen it's become from your prior orgasm. He can’t wait to have you crying for him.

Kishibe had big plans for his little woman. He was not only going to make you great- but make you his completely. He wanted you drunk on his cock; wanted you to cry out for him every night. From here on out, you would be molded to the shape of his shaft.

Bringing his cock towards your entrance, the older man teases your hole. Pressing his tip in and out, keeping it shallow enough for you to become frustrated.

“Please Master! I need it- I need your cum…” you cry out softly, desperate for stimulation.

You were a mess before him, having no idea what you just signed yourself up for.

“Oi Kid, don’t worry…” He smiles down at you. “You’ll get my load and more…”

His hips slam against yours in one movement, sinking his cock into your cunt all at once.

You scream- It’s too much. You didn’t expect him to go down to the hilt in one thrust.

Kishibe was no small man- his body practically towered over yours, and he had a penis to match. He was huge…

Your cunt stretched around him, filling you up as he pushed against your cervix.

“Fuck!” you cry out, the tears spilling down your cheeks rapidly. “It’s too much! I can’t take it…”

“Oh you can,” he responds to your pleas. “You can and you will.”

His next movements match his demanding tone. He’s swift as he pulls out of your pussy only to sink back in. You continue to cry out for him to slow down...

Suddenly, he shifts and thrusts up. His hips push against that rough part inside of you and have your vision going white.

Your cries quickly turn into moans of pleasure as his shaft rubs against it. He knows he’s just found your sweet spot.

With a smirk, he drives himself up into your cunt. Slamming himself inside of you over and over again. He fucks you on his desk as if you were the last woman in the world.

Soft cries fall from your lips as you mumble about how much you love it, how much you want his cum inside of you.

He barely hears what you’re saying over the slapping sounds of his hips meeting your backside, the squelching sounds of your wet cunt quivering around his hard cock.

“Fuck- Kid, you’re gonna make me fucking cum soon.” He says, not being able to hold back his strength.

He drives into you hard and fast, relishing the way your warm walls welcome his hard shaft. The grip he has on your hips is solid as he sets a brutal pace.

“Fucking do it- please, cum in me! I’ll do anything,” you beg him, reminding him of his original deal. “I’ll do anything please, cum in me- I want to be strong!”

“Oh you’ll be the strongest, Kid…I’ll fucking bathe you in my seed.”

“Fuck… please.. Fill me up, I’ll let you cum as much as you want…”

Your last statement seemed to seal the deal with Kishibe. You rocked back against his thrusting hips, meeting his body with equal excitement and endeavor.

“Shit, I-I’m gonna cum…” he manages to growl out.

His pace begins to get sloppy as he feels himself come undone. With one final thrust, Kishibe buries himself inside of your waiting cunt. He fills you with his seed- coating your insides with hot cum.

Swaying against him, you milk his cock with all that you can. Squeezing around him tightly, you make sure to try and collect every drop he gives you, putting on a show with your hip movements. He filled you deliciously, your insides felt hot and full.

All he can do is groan as you take control- he was completely fucked out and absolutely mesmorized by your little winking asshole below him. He stared down at it as you continued to drain him.

Oh he had plans for that, too. You were to be his in all ways after this.

After a few moments, you feel him remove himself from your body. With his weight gone, you could feel yourself drip in his release and knew he was watching.

Kishibe couldn’t help himself as he found himself on the floor, sitting in the same position that he had been in to eat you out just moments before. With his thumbs once again separating the pussy lips of your swollen cunt, he looked directly into the deepest parts of you. The same parts that his cock was just buried in. He couldn’t help his lewd thoughts as he realized he was getting hard once more.

You let him watch your hole leak onto the floor in submission… You realize that you’d let him do just about anything at this point, loving the way you felt under his demanding gaze.

“Master…” you whisper out, not too sure what you were asking for.

“Shhh…” he says, voice hushed. “I’m about to make you a very strong Devil Hunter.”

Thanks for reading! All likes and & reblogs help my page- so please consider! I also am taking requests now! Just send an ask :)

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#chainsaw man #kishibe x you #kishibe x reader #Csm #kishibe #chainsaw man smut #queenofcursesfanfic #chainsaw man fanfiction #chainsawman x reader #csm kishibe #captain kishibe #kishibe imagines #kishibe smut #older kishibe #chainsawman anime #csm fanfic

[sugarlywhispers]

☆–a.n; @hitoshisbf MOOTIE, I GOTCHUU♡ tho, idk if this is the turn you were looking for with his, but i hope at least satiates a bit of your need ;) also, i haven't written this fast anything LOOOL idk, i'm living for the angsty fics lately♡

☆–warnings; angst, alcohol consumption, a bit of smut in one paragraph lol, and of course swearing, because Shinsou is as bad as Bakugou.

Shinsou Hitoshi is not a man that shows his feelings openly. 

Everybody knows that.

So it isn’t a surprise when he returns to the agency from that hell of a fight, face blank, void of any emotion, eyes looking sleepy and tired like they always do. But there is something. Something about the way he is walking, the way he is breathing, or maybe call it his aura, that makes everyone flinch as he walks from the entrance directly towards the elevator.

From all the eyes he knows and feels looking at him, he strongly feels yours. He knows he shouldn’t close on himself and not seek help when he perfectly knows this is a moment to seek for help. For you.

But he can’t avoid it.

The guilt.

Another partner lost.

Another person died in his care.

More than one.

He is 32 years old and apparently he can’t take care of a sidekick half his age, who is already an adult, but still a baby in this profession. This fucking profession of being a hero. How many have already gone? How many have lost their lives because he wasn’t fast enough, strong enough, or even smart enough? How. Fucking. Many.

Hitoshi sighs when he’s in front of the door to his office, not really knowing how he got there; and when he enters and then turns to close it, he encounters the eyes of Midoriya Izuku who looks at him, worried and pitiful.

“It wasn’t your fault, Hitoshi,” Midoriya’s words feel more like a dagger stuck deep in his guts than the comfort he tries to give.

“How many, Midoriya… How many.”

And with that he closes the door and locks it. He doesn’t wait for his co-worker and friend's response. Hitoshi doesn’t need it. He knows it.

After throwing some of his equipment over the small couch he has in the middle of his office, Shinsou walks directly towards one of his furniture where he hides it. Alcohol. Rum, to be exact. He discovered –after a situation similar to this one– that the only thing that gives him a bit of comfort is the burn of the liquor going down his throat. He hates it, he loathes it completely. But he loves how the painful burning turns off his senses and closes down his gullet as the liquid slides inside his system. His ability to speak turns off, just as his consciousness.

He gulps down glass after glass after glass. He doesn’t care that he’s at work and by all ethics he shouldn’t be doing this here. But he doesn’t fucking care anymore.

He doesn’t care that once again one of his co-workers and two of his sidekicks died right in front of his eyes.

He doesn’t care that even if he got there a tad bit sooner, they could still be alive, he could have saved them.

He doesn’t care that it was his fault, because he got distracted from trying to follow one of those villains and didn’t stay to help his team.

But he does care. It is his fault. Everything.

Glass after glass after glass of rum, and he already feels the rise in temperature and the dizziness in his body. But he doesn’t care. He deserves feeling like this… This helpless and useless, because that’s what he is. A fucking useless piece of shit. Not even good at his own job. What would Aizawa say? Dad would agree with Shinsou. He’s just a fucking nuisance. He has been for everybody since his very first day at UA.

The rumble of knocks on his office’s door makes him groan. He doesn’t move, whomever it is should know already that he’s not going to fucking answer the door.

“Shinsou, it’s me,” your muffled voice sounds and he curses Midoriya’s name. He knows it was him who sent you. He always did whenever Hitoshi traveled down to the most inner dark places of his own mind.

He can’t not open the door to you. You are and will always be the exception to any rule. You come before anything and everyone, even his own misery. But, he had drank so much he realizes now he can't move his legs as he tries to stand up from his chair behind his desk. His arms and legs feel like gum, uncontrollable and useless gum, and he doesn't have the strength to even throw the keys closer to the door so you can grab them from under it and get yourself in. He knows, he had tried it, just now. Unfortunately, he just knocked a decorative vessel that sat at the corner of his own desk. What a shame, you have gifted him that from one of your trip missions.

“Hitoshi, what was that? Please, please, let me in,” your begging voice is something that stir so many emotions inside him.

He likes to hear it when he’s on top of you, buried so deep inside you that you beg for him. More, fast, harder, deeper. He loves it, to drive you that insane that only him can give you what you need.

Now, it sounds so desperate and sad, he hates being the reason too behind that begging.

It doesn’t pass too much time until the door is forced open. He regrets having locked it when he looks up and you’re there, standing with all that worry and fear in your eyes as your chest pushes up and down in puffs of air that you inhale. Oh. You forced it on your own. He feels proud of you. You have grown so much. So strong and so dependable.

He remembers when he met you, a small thing of eighteen years old, filled with dreams and hopes, that had just joined Hero Deku’s agency, where he also worked too. You had also been his sidekick for a while, before everyone –Hitoshi included– recognized your strength and power and by your twenty one years old you already had sidekicks helping you on your missions.

He was so proud and mesmerized by the person and hero you have become, he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help to feel things for you.

Your first kiss happened on your twenty-fifth birthday. Izuku had the idea to throw a surprise party after you came back from a mission in Osaka that day. Hitoshi would never forget the shine in your eyes when you entered the conference room, turned on the lights and everyone jumped yelling “happy birthday, Y/N!!” in greeting. You almost cried, and Hitoshi found that cute.

Shinsou was also known for liking his own space, so it didn’t take you long to finally find him at the balcony, alone and smoking his cigarette.

“You know, that thing kills you,” you closed the door of the balcony before walking and standing next to him.

He smiled, a genuine one, before saying, “Our work can kill us, did you know that?”

You rolled your eyes at him, softly pushing him with your shoulder, which made him laugh.

“Thanks for being here, Shinsou-san.”

“Ugh. Drop the honorifics already. Makes me feel old,” this time you laughed, and he took that as a queue to take out the little box he brought for you.

“What is this?” You asked receiving the little box.

“The villain’s teeth of my last fight,” you look up at him, not really amused and he snorts, “It’s your present, dumbass.”

“Couldn’t you just say that?” You protested, clearly exasperated by his jokes, which made him even fall for you more.

Hitoshi takes another drag of his cigarette as you open the box. It’s a necklace, not a very expensive one, with a pendant that has the form of a moon. To others, it might not mean shit, and maybe they would comment on how cheap the present looks. But to both of you, it had a significance. It signified all that time you spent together, patrolling and wandering the streets at night when you were his sidekick, given that both of your Quirks worked better at night.

You’re silent for a bit, and that silence worried him for a second. Then he saw the little droplets of your tears on the railing of the balcony where you are standing close to, and he sighed, throwing the cigarette to the ground and stepping on it to turn it off.

“You’re not supposed to cry, dummy,” his hands grabbed your face and he softly tilted your head back so he could look at your face better.

He saw the tears running down your cheeks, but your eyes looked genuinely happy. Fuck, you're gorgeous, inside out.

“It’s my birthday, I can do whatever I want,” you replied back, your beautiful dove eyes not leaving his.

“That you can.” He said almost in a whisper, his eyes darting down to your lips for a second. And when he looked back at your eyes, he saw the realization in them.

“I… Can I?” He saw your eyes do the same action he did before, and fuck, yes please.

“You can.”

You stood suddenly in your tiptoes and finally connected your lips together. One of his hands slid to the back of your head as the other went down and his arm surrounded your waist, pulling you against him even closer, lips firm against each other.

Shinsou had felt on cloud nine. He still does every time you kiss him. Every time he wakes up and sees you there laying next to him, all cutesy with your sleepy-puffy face and all. Every time you come back to him, even when he told you many times before that he isn't worth it.

He doesn’t deserve you. And you deserve so much better.

“Why did you lock the door?” Your voice sounds angry, but also worried.

Hitoshi looks down again to his desk where he finds the bottle of rum almost finished. Wow. How much time has passed since he got here? The dizziness and the constant burning in his throat doesn’t let him think straight, or do the maths. So he immediately disposed of that thought. He won’t be able to find the answer either way. But he can tell that, by your worried expression, it’s been long. I mean, the almost empty bottle in front of him says much too.

“Shinsou,” you call him again. And by his surname, which means you are angry too.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asks in a murmur, his voice sounding so rough and deep he barely recognizes it like his own.

He then feels hands, small delicate hands, that hold his face and turn him to the side. They feel so soft, so sweet as the thumbs caress his cheeks that he closes his eyes, feeling that knot in his throat so tight is about to explode and make him bleed til he dies.

Hitoshi takes a faltering breath as he feels your forehead press against his.

“Let’s go home, love,” your gentle voice says and he feels like crying now.

But he nods and lets you help him up.

You’re his home. So he will go anywhere with you.

When Hitoshi wakes up the next day, he feels like a truck ran over him. Bones and all heavy, his head pulsing with pain that makes him want to vomit.

He remembers vaguely what happened. And he remembers you dragging his stupid and sorry-sad ass to the apartment. With Izuku. Midoriya helped you bring him home. How embarrassing.

Hitoshi finds the strength to sit on his bed, after seeing that your side of the bed is empty. That’s weird, but it doesn’t surprise him. It is just time you finally see the scum and worthless ass he is.

He rests his elbows on his knees, holding his head with his hands. It hurts, realizing that he lost you. Hurts more than anything. How fucking hypocrite of him. Yesterday, he was moping about the death of his team members, swearing that what he felt was pain. Nothing compares to what he’s feeling now.

The tears slide through his face before he has a chance to stop them.

He never deserved you. He doesn’t even deserve to be called a Hero.

He feels like a fucking loser.

“Hitoshi?”

Your voice makes him look up instantly. And in two long strides you’re kneeling on the floor in front of him, arms around his neck.

He immediately returns the hug. And cries. Like a fucking child.

But this is you, he can do this with you. He can be vulnerable with you.

“You stayed.” He cries, feeling like a wounded animal that needs help.

But somehow, he is. Wounded. In pain. And you’re his savior, what he needs to heal.

“I’m always going to be here, love. I choose you, and I will always do.”

The fingers of one of your hands slides in his hair as his whole body shakes in his cries.

“You have to stop doing this. Nothing that happened was your fault, and if you don’t believe yourself, believe me.” You back away from him just a bit so you can look into his eyes. “Believe me when I say that it was not your fault. And believe me when I say that it’s time you stop this behavior.” He knows you’re talking about his drinking habit from this past months.

“I choose you, but you have to choose me. Or… I don’t think I’m going to want to stay here to see you lose yourself. It hurts me too much, Hitoshi.”

That gets his attention completely.

No. He can't lose you. He won’t lose you. No. No. No.

You're the one crying now, and he’s the one that pulls you up so you straddle his waist and hold your face very close to his.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I won’t… I’ll be good, I’ll be better for you, I promise.” He chants like a prayer as he kisses every part of your face as he can.

You shake your head, “No. Be good for you, be better for you. Because you deserve it. You deserve to be happy, Hitoshi.”

He doesn’t believe it. Not yet anyway.

But he believes you. He loves you. And if to cherish you how you deserve means he has to believe he’s good, he will.

He will be good for you. And with time, for himself too.

#mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #mha smut #bnha smut #mha angst #bnha angst #mha shinso hitoshi #mha shinsou hitoshi x reader #mha shinsou #mha shinsou hitoshi x yn #mha shinsou hitoshi #mha shinsou hitoshi x you #bnha shinsou hitoshi x reader #bnha shinsou hitoshi #bnha shinsou #bnha shinsou hitoshi x yn #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou hitoshi smut #shinsou hitoshi x you #shinsou hitoshi x yn

[utilitycaster]

Hi! I saw your tags on the escape room poll that Team Liam would be last and I wanted to ask why? While I agree that they wouldn’t be first, I wouldn’t put them last either. Do you think they would just have too much conflict to use their skills?

I didn't realize this was from last night's 4SD and because OP said "Battle Royale" I assumed that it was in some way a combat-oriented escape room, in which the lack of a dedicated/significant healer (Vax has, what, 30 lay on hands and a couple low level spell slots) and the fact that Orym is one decent but not incredible tank among two of the most tissue-paper characters in terms of HP would spell their defeat.

With the understanding that this is a traditional escape room here's my thought process:

From my escape room experience there are four skills that map easily into D&D skills and one that does not map into the D&D character skill chart but does map extremely well onto players. They are:

Investigation/raw intelligence. How good are you at inspecting and comprehending things?

Sleight of Hand/raw dexterity. How good are you at manipulating objects/fine motor control?

Persuasion or Intimidation/raw charisma. How good are you at convincing people to work together or perform tasks?

Perception. How good are you at generally noticing things right away?

The most crucial thing, however, is "do you try dumb shit and push buttons and try to figure out everything quickly." And so:

Toss up between Travis and Sam's character teams in terms of the D&D skills; Chetney and Veth are both particularly suited for escape rooms between strong intelligence and high dexterity. I think Sam's team overall is probably stronger; Tary's mechanical knowledge and FCG's desire for everyone to work together and Scanlan's general buffing abilities/capacity to get people to do what he wants (presumably win) mean everyone has a lot to bring to the table. FCG is the only one with decent perception, iirc, though, and Travis as a player is fundamentally a button pusher and therefore his characters will inherit this energy even though Chetney and Fjord are going to be carrying the entire thing (although, actually, Grog will probably respond well to being asked to perform tasks or look for things).

Taliesin's characters have the combined skills but unfortunately with the except of Caduceus they all have the trait "does not work well with others" and Ashton and Percy in particular wouldn't listen to Caduceus and they're the ones with the most relevant skills here. Beau could do an escape room on her own and probably would (note: someone told me this is what Marisha said on 4SD and I agree wholeheartedly) but necessarily will be less effective than groups who work together. Vex would do pretty well and would be competitive enough, but none of Laura's characters are particularly expert in investigation and if Vex and Imogen clash it is 100% over in terms of getting out in time, though I think Jester would make a valiant go of it. None of Ashley's characters crack +1 in investigation and no one has 20 dex, and I doubt most would be interested or competitive about this, though I do think they'd get along the best by far.

Rounding things out, I suspect that Liam's characters are just behind Taliesin's in terms of conflict; it won't be quite as heated but I get the sense all three of them, all of whom are very much about working together with their respective parties, will not be very good at working together with each other, and Orym is the least likely to take the lead despite most suited for it. Caleb is extremely smart but I don't think he'd be the most invested in going super fast. I don't think they'll be last - Ashley or Taliesin are more likely - but they'd certainly not be first. The NPCs, meanwhile, have the advantage of two people who know each other well, a very agreeable and mature person in Eshteross, and Essek and Allura will probably vibe solely on the basis of being wizards who know and like Caleb if they don't know each other personally yet. Iirc Essek and Eshteross should have decent dex scores though not 20, and everyone has diplomatic skills. I believe Allura's wisdom is respectable as well. They'll certainly be the most well-behaved and adult about it.

In conclusion, you're right, probably not last (would almost certainly be last in the combat scenario I mistakenly imagined) but absolutely should not be first.

#answered #promisetourself #cr tag

[thebluestbluewords]

Anything You Like (the Jaylos-but-also-polyamory part)

More of my Soulmate AU! This section got wildly out of hand. Like, almost a third of my WIP-document out of hand. Loosely based on the Isle of the Lost book canon, so warning for bullying and terrible parenting.

+

"Get back here!" Jay shouts desperately at the kid disappearing as fast as his skinny legs can carry him, around the corner of the market street and deep into the maze of stalls. "I'm not--" 

Not what, his rational, thinking brain offers. Not going to hurt him? 

That's a stupid thought. Life on the island is all about hurting people. 

Jay hurts people for fun, and for class, and just because there are people in his way and he's finally starting to be one of the bigger, stronger kids who can get away with hurting other people instead of being the one who's hurt all the time. He's done his time as a little kid, and it feels... better to be the one in control, instead of the one who's always running and hiding and trying to avoid the people who want to hurt him. It's not like Jay can really run from his problems, not when they're all stuck on the same shitty island together with adults who want to leave him bleeding or dead or worse, but now that he's bigger, he can start fighting them instead of trying to run all the time. 

His soulmate isn't very big yet. Probably not big enough or strong enough to fight off an adult. 

Jay is not nice, and he is not kind, and he lives on the Isle of the Lost, so he doesn't, can't, care about other people like he cares about himself. He's not anybody else's top priority, so he's got to be his own number one. 

He's already got two soulmates to deal with, and a third one, especially a fast little third one who bites and squirms and has a knife and no sense of when he should use it shouldn't be something Jay is thinking about. He should make the smart choice, and swipe a new pair of gloves to cover the mark, and never think about it again. 

Yeah. That would be the smart thing to do. 

Conceal it, don't feel it, don't let it show. That's what they do on the mainland when they've got inconvenient feelings, and that's what Jay should do about this new soulmark and the inconvenient, annoying soulmate who comes with it. He should put it somewhere under his gloves, in the back of his mind, and never think about it again. 

He’s not going to, but it’s what he should do. Objectively speaking. It’s probably what Mal would tell him to do too, if she knew about this new soulmate. 

Jay should tell her. They’re each other’s first real marks. It’s not supposed to mean something on the isle of the lost, but it sometimes does anyway. They’re a villain-and-sidekick duo. Or, on their bad days, sidekick and sidekick. Sometimes everything goes wrong, and neither of them is feeling up to claiming responsibility for a scheme gone sideways, so they call themselves both sidekicks, trying to prop each other up without a proper villain to work around. Two useless lackeys with only each other to command. 

A pebble bounces off Jay’s head. 

Shit. If he were less lucky, the rock could have been a bottle, or a knife, or—

“Dude!” His soulmate shouts from the rooftop of the shitty cauldron store. The very easily accessible roof of the shitty cauldron store.  “Are you coming up or not?”

Right. 

One jump over the stack of third-rate cauldrons, and it’s an easy grab for the crumbling ladder on the side of the building. The momentum makes the ladder creak, but Jay’s been doing this for ages, and he’s not heavy enough to pull it out of the brick yet. He can’t quite get the leverage to do something cool, like backflip up onto the roof, but he can pull with his arms instead of his core, which is stupid and going to hurt later, but it makes his biceps pop. 

His soulmate probably doesn’t care what his arms look like. He’s probably some sad nerd who’s never looked at a guy in his life, and it’s just a coincidence that they’re marked for each other. Probably. Anything else would be almost good, and if there’s one kind of thing that never happens on the isle, it’s goodness. 

So, coincidence it is. 

+

Jay's new soulmate glares at him.  "You wanted to talk?" 

It’s probably not the best choice, seeing as the only reason they’re here is because Jay’s soulmate let him catch up, but it’s too fun to mess with him. “You don't?" Jay asks, keeping his face neutral. No point in giving anything away yet. He’s not above having fun with this. “Thought you’d want to get to know each other a bit. Seeing as we’re soulmates and all.” 

The kid glares back at him. Jay knows everyone at school, and he knows perfectly well who Carlos DeVil is, but they’ve never actually talked outside of school before. 

Actually, they’ve never really talked in school either. Sure, they’ve traded insults in the hall, and done their fair share of shouting at each other in class when Jay gets bored and starts throwing things into their weird science beaker, but they’ve never just…. talked. 

It’s weird, actually. 

Carlos folds his arms, defensive-like.  "Nothing to talk about. We're soulmarked, yay.” he rolls his eyes, somehow turning the ‘yay’ into the most sarcastic noise the isle’s seen in the last eighteen years. “You're still going to beat me up at school. I'm still gonna--" 

He stops, abruptly. 

"Gonna what?" Jay asks, fascinated despite himself. "Don't just stop there, man. What're you going to do now?" 

Carlos glares harder. "Nothing. Shut up." 

Jay is absolutely not going to do that. He's got another soulmate, and he's a fucking nerd, and he was definitely going to say something interesting. "Nope," Jay says cheerfully. His soulmate might be grumpy and nervous right now, but Jay's having a great time now that they're actually talking. "We're soulmarked now, so you've got to tell me. That's the rules." 

"We're on the isle. We don't have rules." 

"The cosmic rules of the universe. Soulmarks are like the one kind of magic we have over here, dude. Don't ruin the magic for me by saying you don't know the rules." 

Carlos looks pissed. "There aren't rules!" 

"Nu-uh,” Jay says, letting his voice fall into something light and almost singsong. “There totally are. The rules are that you have to tell me what you're thinking." 

"I'm thinking that you're a jerk." Carlos snaps. “And this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, and the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, and you should’ve just bought better gloves and never fucking touched me in the first place.”

"Cool.” Jay says brightly. He’s never had someone tell him when they’re thinking honestly before, and it’s sort of intoxicating. He could get used to his kind of thing. “I'm thinking that we should stick together. I'll introduce you to Mal tomorrow, if that's cool?" 

"I know who Mal is. Everyone at school knows Mal." 

“Nah,” Jay says, not even bothering to hide his smile. He’s definitely going to introduce Carlos to Mal tomorrow, and they’re going to get along like a house on fire, because they’re both assholes.  “You know about Mal. You don't know her. Nobody else really knows her, not like me. And you, cause I'm going to introduce you." 

"What if I don't want that?" 

He obviously does want it. Nobody at school except for an idiot would turn down an invite to get out of Mal’s bad graces, and Carlos isn’t an idiot. Jay wouldn’t have spent the last sixteen years taking stuff out of his locker if he were dumb, and it’s gonna be great. 

"Too bad. I'm introducing you two anyway.” Jay says cheerfully. Having a new soulmate is fun. Having two soulmates has been great for him so far, and it’s going to be even better once they get to know each other too. “Hey, maybe cause we share a mark, you’ll share one with Mal too!” 

Carlos mumbles something mostly-inaudible. Jay can’t be sure, but it sounded suspiciously unlike the words “I’m so excited to meet your other soulmate” and a lot more like “if there’s two of them I’m going to fucking kill myself.”  

So. That’s a little worrying. 

Honesty seems to be the way to go. At least when he’s with Mal, honest questions about the gaps in their plan usually lead to less stabbing of their essential body parts, and more of them stabbing the other guys. So there’s that, and also the refreshingly honest answer he got out of his new soulmate last time, soo….

"What?” Jay asks. He’s still trying to keep his expression normal, but it’s hard to focus on that when there’s so many other things to worry about. Like how he’s going to explain to Mal that they’ve got a new gang member, and how he’s going to drag the two of them into the same space long enough to like each other. Maybe he should treat them both like the feral cats that he caught for his cousin, and lock them in rooms next to each other for a while so they can both shout at him until they get tired and decide it’s better to ally together.

Carlos sighs. It’s almost like Jay’s starting to wear down some of his prickly edges already.  "I said, I don't want to get to know Mal. You two have been tormenting me since kindergarten. Nothing is going to change just because you have a mark on your hand." 

Jay taps the new mark with his fingertips before he even realizes he’s doing it. It’s technically on his wrist, not his hand, but it’s going to be hard to hide either way. "You've got one too."

"Yeah, and my mother is going to try and cut it out of me as soon as she finds out,” Carlos says. He’s not glaring anymore, which would be cool if his face hadn’t gone totally blank instead. Like a mask, or like the thing that Evie, the pretty new girl that Mal’s been obsessed with since she showed up to school does with her face when she’s not thinking about it. “It'd be cool if you would stop fucking up all my shit at school, but I don't actually expect you to like, change or anything. We don't have to be anything because of this." 

Ouch.  "We don't fuck with that much of your shit."

"You soulmarked me by accident because you were trying to shove my head in a toilet," Carlos says, patiently. He's standing just out of arm's reach, with his back to the open rooftop. They're within easy sprinting distance to three other houses with low roofs, and Jay can count a handful of small, open windows that Carlos could probably dive through without issue, but are small enough that Jay, with his wider shoulders, would have to slow down and slip through more carefully. "I don't think you'd be able to stop fucking up my shit if you tried." 

"Hey!" 

"Just being honest. And hey, if you want to try, be my guest. I'd love to actually keep some of the shit I make for myself."

There’s a weight in Jay’s pocket that feels a lot like a handmade crossbow pen. And another one in his boot that might be a handful of tiny button batteries, and okay, maybe a third weight shoved in the secret pocket in the back of his vest that’s stuffed full of the wire contraption that he snagged without thinking right after his hand slipped and the soulmark showed up. 

It’s not something he’s gonna keep doing now, obviously. 

"We do take a lot of your shit, huh.” Jay admits. “I uh, I have some of your stuff. If you want it back.” 

Carlos’s face is still blank. "Yeah. I know. And I also know that Auradon psychology textbooks say it's because nobody loves you at home, but it'd be really cool if you could stop taking it out on me."

Ouch. That one lands, and Jay has to work to keep his face blank over the instinctive spike of hurt that wells up in the dark depths of his chest. He's not exactly his dad's favorite person, but there's the other two girls who work in the shop sometimes, and they're friendly enough. Someone to help clean the dust off the junk and swap jokes with while they're handing over their weekly cut of the earnings is almost like having a friend, and Delphine even sticks around to flirt sometimes after her shift ends.

Delphine is nearly thirty, and keeps more knives on her person than Jay's ever managed to slip out of her pockets. She's also sort of scary if he tries to slip out before she's done talking with him, but she pays attention to his new bruises, and she once brought him a cup of stew from the spicier stall two streets down, and didn't even spit in it first. So she's basically the closest thing he's got to a friend at home. 

"Mal takes her temper out on everyone," Jay points out, instead of defending his home life. It's the Isle of the Lost. They're all stuck here together with the same shitty parents, and explaining that he's got one person who usually doesn't throw anything at him on the way out the door isn't exactly a resounding defense. "I don't think I could stop her if I tried." 

Carlos rolls his eyes. Now that Jay's looking, there's a ring of old bruises around his left eye. "I know. The whole school knows. It wasn't this bad last year, but ever since you two got dumped by Uma's pirate crew, or whatever–" 

"We broke it off with them." 

"Or whatever,” Carlos repeats, rolling his eyes again. “It's not like it makes a difference what actually happened. She's been kind of a raging bitch since then."

Jay lifts an eyebrow, partially at the language choice, and partially because he’s sort of being thrown for a loop here. Everyone wants to meet Mal, and he’s not really sure if he’s got anything to offer outside of his connection with her. 

“Yeah, well,” he tries. “I bet if she had another soulmate, she’d probably be a lot less…” 

“Bitchy?” 

“I was gonna say irritable. Look, we lost half our crew when we dumped Uma’s gang–” 

“When they dumped you,” Carlos whispers. 

Jay shoots him a look. “Whatever. When we broke up, we lost a lot of our crew. And it’s not like we’re having trouble keeping things under control on our own, but we wouldn’t turn down company, if you’re interested. We have a hideout and everything. You could come and stay the night, if you want. Just to try it out.” 

There’s a flicker of interest in his soulmate’s face. 

“I guess,” Carlos says slowly. “If you’re offering, it would be not the worst thing to get out of my mom’s house for a night.” 

Bingo. 

“We’re offering.” Jay says, before he can think twice about the offer. He’ll lock Mal in their storage room, keep her out of the way until he’s got his new soulmate acclimated to the place. “Come on, if we go now we can make it home before Mal gets there, and you can give her the scare of her fuckin’ life.” 

There’s a tiny hint of what might be a smile on Carlos’s face. “Sounds fun.” 

It’s a risk, but they’re doing so well now that he can’t resist. 

Jay holds out a hand. “Come on. Let me show you the way.” 

Carlos takes it. “Lead on, I guess.”

#my fic #descendants #disney descendants #descendants fic #carlos de vil #jay son of jafar #I've been having too much fun with this and I know that I have to stop posting everything to tumblr in scraps #but also consider that I have about one brain cell left to write with and posting everything as soon as I write it sparks joy???

[pancake-breakfast]

I would love to say that it took me this long to get to the final three chapters because I was afraid of what would come, but the truth is I was just very very tired.

Stream-of-consciousness thoughts for TriMax Vol. 12, Chapters 7-9 below.

Chapter 7: Run, Livio, Run

Uh, oh. I'm looking forward to seeing Livio again, but I don't want him to be in any real danger. I know he doesn't mind, but that's actually part of the problem right now.

It's a good thing Milly and Meryl remain miraculously unaffected by this smoke somehow, even though it's messing with the soldiers so much.

Oh, no! Thomas down! Milly down!

Quick shout-out to the Thomas's spiky dinosaur tail.

OMG they make yipping noises. I had no idea.

Ugh, this could be bad. Meryl is too small to carry Milly away from the scene on her own, and it looks like Milly hit her head pretty good.

Meanwhile, Vash has his hands busy with his dumbass brother.

Ugh, his hair is sooooo dark now....

Knives, buddy, have you seen yourself in a mirror yet? You're more amorphous blob than singular being at this point. You should get that checked out. By a professional. Maybe Conra--oh, wait.

Dude, that's not the face you make when you realize the brother you love so much is basically about to die. It is, however, the face you make when you're about to score a resounding victory over your sibling.

Ugh, babygirl. You're a mess, babygirl. Why....

Ugh, Domina's also a mess....

I was promised Livio in this chapter. Where is my boy Livio?

AAAAAHHHH AAAAHHHH THERE HE IS!!! JUST IN TIME!!! YAAAAAAYYYYY!!!!

LOL, Meryl's shocked face.

Hahahahaha, Livio's so awkward. How long has it been since he's had a "normal" interaction with someone else? For that matter, this isn't exactly normal. He's probably overthinking the social aspect and might need to spare more brain power to the escaping aspect.

Livio's like, "Here. Have a military-grade bomb door. I'll just set this up for you right here... and I'm off! See ya in a bit!"

There we go. He's switching over into combat mode, not gonna worry about the social aspect. That's for someone else.

The heck?! He just went straight over the top of the door!

He... uh... he miiiiight be a bit outnumbered. Just a bit.

Smart. He didn't actually need any of them to say anything. He just needed a few people to look in the right direction.

Man, he's fast.

Tornado technique deployed!

Ugh, Vash. I wish I could tell you there is another way, but if there is, I can't see it. It requires Knives doing things Knives isn't prone to doing, so things are looking very, very grim. Maybe Chronica and her buddies can somehow offer some aid... if they can just figure out what's going on.

Chapter 8: Lights

Ooh, Chronica's peeking into Domina. Plants are weird, yo.

It looks a bit messy in there, even by Plant standards.

Vash's mini-gates are scaring the hell out of the Earth fleet. I don't think Knives realizes just how dangerous they are... or how crazy Vash's precision has been in using them.

Oh, seems he has some idea.

Noooo! Vash!

I don't think "disappointed" is a strong enough word for whatever Vash might feel losing to Knives here. You know... assuming he has enough of anything left in himself to feel.

Oh, Knives is implying Vash is just unconscious. That's... good. I think.

Huh, I need to save this shot of Livio for a project I want to work on. I honestly didn't think I'd find a manga panel of him in this kind of pose. It'll be a perfect reference.

I mean, he already commandeered another military-grade metal door for his own purposes, so I don't think this one stands much of a chance. Especially if the primary barring mechanism is on the OUTSIDE.

Shout-out to his EoM-themed twin gun holsters. Not sure how he hides those monster fangs in there, but whatever. They look cool.

Ugh, Vash.... Vash, are you ok? Tell me you're ok.

I'm not sure I quite understand the lights here. Are those... representative of the people down below?

Ahhhh! He's moving! He's moving!!! He looks like absolute shit, but he's moving!

KNIVES YOU LITTLE BITCH LEAVE HIM ALONE!!! And other things to say to Knives if you want to get yourself insta-killed.

Wait, why does Knives suddenly look afraid?

Up? Chronica?

Wait, why we focusing on Livio right now?! I love you, Livio, but I need to know what's going on with Knives and Vash!

Wait, what's happening??

Ok, I got it. Knives got hit by something from space at the same time Livio went through the door to the little shelter thing. I'm following, I'm following. Also, hi, Elendira. I was wondering where you were.

Vash has an opening.

FUCK. FUCKITY FUCK FUCK FUCK WHY FUCKING LEGATO GOSHFREAKING DARNIT EVERY SINGLE FREAKING TIME THIS GUY SHOWS UP AND IF HE ISN'T IN FULL BAGWORM STATE ALL I CAN DO IS SWEAR BECAUSE GODSDAMMIT LEGATO YOU MONSTER!!!

Vash looks none too happy. Which makes sense considering the last time he faced off with Legato. Knives, on the other hand, looks like he genuinely doesn't know what to make of all this.

Awww, he's so happy.... I really need to update my collage of his seriously unhinged smiles.

Chapter 9: Two People Against The World

CW: Sexual abuse, sexual assault, depersonalization, abuse

Yusssss, Legato backstory! I've been waiting for this traumafest!

Note: While having a traumafest backstory might help explain one's monstrous actions, it does not, in fact, excuse them, especially as one matures into adulthood and (theoretically) gains a better understanding of action and consequence. The world is so much bigger than our trauma. Now back to your regularly scheduled reaction post.

Ah, I guess Legato and Vash did have ample time to get to know each other over those seven months.

The funny thing about this title is, assuming it refers to Legato and Knives, it's definitely Legato's perspective. I've seen people spell out some pretty decent evidence that Knives cares for Legato more than he admits, but the fact of the matter is Knives doesn't admit it. Knives repeatedly treats their relationship with a level of disregard that suggests no matter how much he values Legato, he's nowhere near admitting it enough to himself to allow room for thinking something like it's the two of them against the world. Gods, I could write essays on the dynamic between two. I adore how much there is to analyze with Legato and Knives. I love how it's Wolfwood and Vash taken to quite possibly the worst extreme.

Heh. Vash looks... almost relieved. And Legato looks almost peaceful here. I wonder if perhaps they reached some sort of understanding, as unlikely as that seems.

Oh, I thought Chronica was still in space. Looks like she's making this personal.

Eyyy! Milly's awake!

And here she and Meryl are both just worrying about Vash. Love them.

Chronica's got an impressive gun aimed at Knives' face there.

Ooooohhh, Legato and Vash are gonna have opinions on this... especially if it's successful.

What, he just blocked it? Hax.

Love the birdcage imagery for Legato here.

Ah, Legato.... This isn't even him seeking revenge. This is him seeking justice. He doesn't want them to pay. He wants them to experience what he himself experienced at their hands so they know. Gonna be honest, I can't fault him for this, even knowing that there were probably plenty among those who "stood by and did nothing" who lacked the power to do anything even if they were even aware of the problem.

Ugh, gut wounds hurt so bad, too....

Ok, so this guy's a monster, but for as unrealistic as it is, I love that you can tell so much about him simply by his character design. First, he's someone in power. Money... authority... probably both. He stands on a rich carpet in a fine suit with (what I can only assume is) a trendy hat while Legato is spread out naked, vulnerable, humiliated. Second, for all his power, he's a small man. It's a bit of... height-ism, I guess? Nightow is using it to show that regardless of what else this man has, he's not actually someone who's worth looking up to. And third, he's just... kinda gross. His proportions are distorted and weird with demon eyes and sex doll mouth and he just gives me creep vibes just looking at him.

Ugh, this is a common thing with abusers, though. They can get caught up in this sort of self-delusion that whatever they're doing is right and good, that their victims benefit from it or like it or even love it despite ALL signs to the contrary. And having ANY clear sign that, no, their action was NOT acceptable, any action from their victim that even has the possibility of allowing the victim to go free, to leave the abuser's "kindness," is seen as complete and utter betrayal. And then, after suitable punishment has been meted out, they may "forgive" the victim by allowing them to fall back into the abuse cycle... often while occasionally bringing up the failed escape attempt to excuse more extreme behavior toward the victim or to demoralize their victim and keep them in place.

Of course this guy would be turned on by the possibility of getting to punish Legato.

Legato's such a little guy here, too...

Yeah, there's no way something like that happening at such a moment wouldn't seem like an act of god to him. Nevermind that it was probably pure chance and the horrible, unnatural pose he was forced into that saved him.

Yeah, I don't blame him for this, either.

Ah, Knives really didn't intend this.

Legato really piqued Knives' curiosity here, first by surviving, second by daring to approach him, and third by not showing the least bit of concern that Knives might lob his head off in an instant, and instead asking to serve him.

I really can't get over how small he is here. Even if he was the type to take a bit to fill out, he doesn't look older than 15 here... and that's being generous.

Honestly, living one's whole life (or the vast majority of it) the way Legato did would leave little space for hopes and dreams to grow. It's hard to have even the smallest ambitions when all you've ever known is what it is to be an object used by others.

Heh, he finally smiles, and it's at the thought that it's all going to end.

I wonder what about this made Knives stay his hand. It's not simple respect for Legato's power. Perhaps he sees some measure of himself (or even Vash) in Legato here, in that time after they found Tesla and everything seemed meaningless and they just wanted it all to end.

Man, they didn't even see fit to give him a name. He was just a toy to them. Makes me sick.

In retrospect, implying I was looking forward to this chapter seems like a bit of a disservice to it. I had enough spoilers to know how dark it would get, but it's different reading it. I... still don't think it excuses a lot of what he does. But it does make me wish all the more that he'd had opportunities to know good people. If it had been Vash who had saved him instead of Knives... or even Wolfwood or the Eye of Michael... his life would be so very different, and probably for the better. He deserves better than he's ever got. He's endured enough.

Archive

Trigun Vol. 1: Covers + 1-3, 4, 5-6, 7-8, 9-10 || Vol. 2: Covers + Extras, 1, 2-4, 5-6, 7-8

TriMax Vol. 1: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6 || Vol. 2: Covers + 1, 2-4, 5, 6-7 || Vol. 3: Covers + 1-3, 4-5, 6-7 || Vol. 4: Covers + 1-2, 3-5, 6-7 || Vol. 5: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6 || Vol. 6: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6 || Vol. 7: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6 || Vol. 8: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5 + Bonus || Vol. 9: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6 || Vol. 10: Covers + 1-3, 4-5, 6-8 || Vol. 11: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6 || Vol. 12: Covers + 1-3, 4-6

Extra Credit: Trigun Vol. 1: Nebraska vs. Vash's Motivations, Vash's Loneliness, Vash's Depression (pt. 2 of post), Soupy Brains || Vol. 2: Coin Factoids || TriMax Vol. 1: Lina, Vash, and a Haircut || Meryl, Vash, and the Pursuit of Happiness || Vol. 5: Knives, Vash, and Hatred for Humanity || Vol. 6: Coping Series: Wolfwood, Meryl, Vash || Vol. 8: The Uncoordinated Counterattack || Vol. 9: Justice, Punishment, and Mercy, The Tolling of an Iron Bell || Vol. 10: Crucifixion Symbology (pt. 2 of post), Merging of Families, Being Childlike (And Why God Hates Chapel) || Vol. 11: New Hair, New Outlook

#i have sooooo many complicated legato feels and this volume has done absolutely nothing to lessen them #i can think he's a monster who should be thrown into the bottom of the sea AND also want far better for him than he ever got #trigunbookclub #trigun maximum #volume 12 #pancake thoughts

[lychee-not-dead-yet]

JayDick week 2023: Day 1 - Identity Porn

(I'm on a shit setup and I suck at following prompts, but challenges are good for the mind I guess)

@jaydick-week

Tw: not safe for tumblr / nsft

Jason Peter Todd loved Richard ‘Dick’ John Grayson.

It was hard to hide it ; the way he couldn’t fight the upward tug of his lips, the shine of his eyes, the warmer barritone of his voice. Every time he laid his eyes upon his man, it was like his soul ached a little less.

Oh, he loved him, and more. He admired him, adored him even sometimes, in the dark hours between night and dawn, confident and trusting enough to offer his underbelly and the chipped part of his mind.

His love was tender, because Dick Grayson was. He was kind, funny, a little perfect and a lot more cracked around the edges. He was a little loud – his laughs, his kisses – and a lot brighter than everyone Jason had ever met, all quick quips and sparkling eyes and dimply smiles and –

Jason loved him, would die for him on a whim.

But Red Hood would kill for him.

Oh, he would – wanted, craved to – eat Nightwing alive.

Because Nightwing was sharper, smart with an edge of insanity. No one without a touch of crazy would do half the things he did.

His smiles were cutting in the smoggy nights of Blüdhaven.

His laughs were taunting, more jabs than teasing.

Red Hood was not a man to submit and show the softness of his throat. Nightwing was not a man to give gently and openly.

In the darker hours of the night, before even the idea of dawn, Red Hood wanted to possess that bird.

Nightwing’s mouth was bloody from a previous punch. Red Hood wanted to lick it off, to add his own bite to the mix, to paint him red and green. Instead, he pressed his gloved hand around his nape, force the man under him to bend further over the dusty desk.

The warehouse was empty, now, aside from a couple of unconscious scumbags in the main storage room. The office was a mess, papers scattered around and glass shards glinting over the floor. The red helmet laid in the middle of it.

Red Hood’s pants were stuck around the widest parts of his thighs, while Nightwing’s were pooling at his feet. Groans and winces were falling from those bloody lips, all while a bruised ass pressed back into every fast thrust.

Red Hood growled, pinned him harder, forced the sharp bones of Nightwing’s hips into the cold sides of the desk. Everything to make his love and hunger ache into the next day.

“Not so chatty, ‘Wing?…”

The rasp of his voice hurt his throat. Nightwing answered in kind, eyes probably rolling under the white lenses of his mask.

“F-Fuck…”

“Work in progress, baby…” he purred back. His gloved muffled the sound as his free hand fell on Nightwing’s bare asscheek. Nightwing reared back at the sharp sting, spew a string of whimpered curses. But Hood knew. He could recognize the quakes of that strong body even in pitch darkness, the hiccup in these moans so good his guts twisted.

“Again, Big Bird? Gonna make a mess?”

Nightwing’s groin was covered by his jockstrap, although his cup had been discarded. Yeah, a mess they would make.

The next slap fell on the tender junction of ass and thigh. Red Hood’s hips ground forward, bruising and deep.

Nightwing wailed.

“Hood!…”

He couldn’t claw at Red Hood’s thigh through his glove, not as much as he needed. He still grabbed as he bucked and twitched, the slow roll of his lover’s hips unrelenting.

“That’s it…” Red Hood growled. “That’s how you get to – ”

“J-Jay…”

It was a breathe, not even his full name.

His grip on Dick’s neck turned into a cradle.

“Yeah, I got you…”

Dick gasped under the weight of Jason’s body laying protectively over his.

“Take your time, pretty boy, ride it out…” he purred into sweaty hair.

Dick’s hand stroked over his bare thigh. He hummed as Jason kept rocking into him, slowing down into a stop.

When Dick laughed – broken and exhausted and sex-drunk – it was warm, and kind. Amused and loving.

“Y’know… ‘bet you could fuck your enemies into submission…”

Jason snorted, kissed what he could reach of Dick’s cheek. He was still hard and pulsing, but fuck it if he couldn’t take a minute to shower his man with some more love.

“Nah, only you, Big Bird.”

Yeah.

Only Dick Grayson could tame the Red Hood, it seemed.

#jaydickweek2023 #jaydick #dick grayson #jason todd #mine #red hood #nightwing #tw: nsft #tw: nsfwish

[the-sky-is-a-lie]

The Concentration Breaker 2 - Idolisation

Jason Todd was hot.

The statement became sort of assumed with the shared knowledge of the man’s adopted familial origins. No member of the Bat family was unattractive, really - and it had been said numerous times that all of the robins would grow up to be supermodel material. But that wasn't the same - didn't compare, because Jason Todd was hot.

So much so that the first time Tim had seen him since the resurrection - when he'd broken into the Tower and held a knife to Tim's throat - the first thing Tim had thought was wow. The second was oh shit.

There was simply something about him. It didn't help that Tim's immeasurable idolisation of him from their youth had never truly gone away - or that Jason had come back from the dead built like a fucking tank. The broad shoulders and thick muscles and height and strength and power behind him coupled with the fact that he was Jason Todd.

The same boy that Tim used to chase over rooftops with a camera and then been so awed and terrified and excited by when he’d reappeared in Gotham and become a crime boss. And then Jason had calmed a little from the pit’s rage - deconstructed the syndicate he’d built up and made his own team with the Outlaws. Tim had found himself awed and bewitched all over again watching Jason fight the good fight on amazing adventures all over the globe and off world - and then he came home again and began to work with the Bats more. 

Tim had begun to learn more about Jason, then - about how he still collects classic literature and enjoys cooking and bakes to relieve stress and will always feed anyone that visits one of his apartments. How he teases his estranged siblings to lessen the gap between them and likes to find somewhere high up after a night of patrol to simply watch the city lights and feel the wind on his skin.

But, for many reasons, Tim couldn’t do anything about it. Jason was- was perfect. He was so strong for overcoming the effects of the pit  and brave for still facing what they did every night despite everything he’d already been through. He was tall and handsome and cocky and quick witted - he was kind and smart and gentle. And Tim was just - Tim.

They didn’t match. There was nothing about Tim that could possibly draw Jason’s eye, let alone keep it on him.

Tim was small and generally pretty unimpressive. His body had never naturally held much muscle, and though he could keep up with the rest of the Bats in the field easily enough, he wasn’t amazingly strong or fast. He was always forced to think around his problems, rather than naturally overcome them. And even then, his mind wasn’t an asset - it was a weakness. Tim’s intelligence always seemed to land him in hot water as Red Robin or in the media spotlight as Timothy Drake-Wayne. He was always getting himself into trouble.

Tim wasn’t special. Certainly not enough for Jason’s attention.

#My writing #Tim Drake #Jason Todd #JayTim #tim drake-centric

[willinglyghoulified]

Excerpt: Book 3, Chapter 6, "A Raider's Playground"

(will be re-writing)

The man in the booth suddenly threw open the door and stepped onto the arena. He grabbed me and John by the shirt collars and dragged us inside the booth. Liam stood frozen in the arena, and the man reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him inside the booth with us.

He pushed John and me into two chairs by the side of the room. John stumbled into his, his weight falling easily into the seat due to his high. I fought against the shove, but the man just pushed me harder. Liam stood close to my chair with one hand gripping my shirt sleeve.

The five people in the room with us just stared with condescending glares.

"Are you sure about this, Gage?" asked a tall man with shaggy brown hair, a beard and a mustache. He wore a black leather suit with lots of straps and pockets and tall knee-high combat boots.

"Yeah, you'd better know what the hell you're doing," hissed one of the women present. She had metal bracers wrapped around her forearms, a metal helmet that covered everything from the top of her head straight across the bridge of her nose, and bloodstained metal armor across her chest. Her headpiece had thin pieces of metal that fnned out on the back that reminded me of wings. Two slits were used as eyeholes.

"We talked about this!" said the spy, Gage. "They survived the Gauntlet. They were smart enough to take my advice and strong enough to kill Colter. This is what we needed. How about we sho some respect for our new leader, huh?"

My eyes widened.

"Amen," said the Raider who had the strangest attire. He had red hair shaved around the sides of his head and grown out on top. He wore a necklace of teeth and claws. His face was painted with vertical blue streaks, and the same paint decorated his shirt, pants, and shoes and was smeared across an unidentifiable fur pelt on his shoulders.

"Then get the hell outta here so I can show the boss around."

The Raiders hesitated, but they left the booth. They motioned to the crowd in the stands for everyone to clear out, eventually leaving John, Liam, and me alone with Gage in the growing silence.

"Let us out of here," I hissed.

"We didn't sign up for this shit," John argued, still high by the sound of the fatigue in his voice.

"Oh, yeah? What did you sign up for, then? Making it out of the Gauntlet alive? Because as I recall, I'm the one that made sure you got outta there alive. Worked like a charm, didn't it?" He stood with his hands behind his back in front of us, cocky as all hell. "We needed Colter dead. Or out of the way. No difference to me. Either way, good riddance. The plan was a success."

"That guy was nothin'," said John. "I've had tougher challenges."

Gage took a step forward and pointed a finger at him. "Bullshit! Without me, I'd be scraping your guts off the floor." He folded his arms across his chest and lowered his voice. "Now, I get that you have no idea what's going on, and everything is coming at you real fast, but you need to listen. Taking out Colter wasn't just a last-minute decision... It was something a few of us here have been working on for a while. Now that he's gone, we've got ourselves a vacancy in the Overboss department. And guess what? You just got the job." He nodded to John.

"W-What? Why?" I asked.

"That's horse shit," John spat. "I don't want your fuckin' job."

"Look, all I'm asking is you trust me on this and give it a shot. I swear, it'll be worth it."

"First you lure us in here, and now you want Hancok to run the place?" I argued.

"Hancock? As in Mayor Hancock? Ha! Knew you looked familiar."

"Have we met?" he asked coldly. "Don't usually run with guys like you."

"Nah, we've never officially met. I've found myself in Goodneighbor a time or two, though. Always found you to be more of a gimmick than a public figure. And you?" He motioned to me. "I believe you're the Minutemen General with that annoying Radio Freedom station. Did you like our little decorations in the Gauntlet? Leaving those bodies laying around almost made the place feel a little more... patriotic, ha ha."

I stood up. "Those were my people! Those men and women had families, you fucking psychopath!"

"And what? You gonna kill me for it? Go ahead, shoot me right between the eyes." He put his index finger on his dirty forehead. "And you know what's gonna happen when you do? One of the other Raider leaders will put bullets in your brains, too, making sure you won't leave this place alive. So I suggest you do exactly what I say."

I spit on the floor in front of him and glared.

He rolled his eye. "All right, all right, I get it. You don't trust me. I wouldn't trust me, either. But I swear, this is the big score for you three."

"I ain't about to lead a bunch of Raiders," John muttered.

"Before you start pissing all over the plan, why don't you take a minute to hear me out and shut the fuck up? You three are the most whiny bunch I've ever met. Christ..." He took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and placed one between his lips. "Thanks to Colter, this place is a powder keg just waiting to blow sky-high. One wrong move and we're going to have a bloodbath on our hands. I think you've got what it takes to keep these gangs from tearing each other apart."

John squinted at him. "And why me?"

"Besides the fact that you took out Colter fair and square? I'd say you're used to leading a bunch of lowlifes, 'Mayor Hancock.' This ain't nothing you're new to. The only difference is a little more bloodshed."

"If this ends badly for me or my family, I'll make sure you pay for it..."

"See? That's the spirit. You're fitting in already. Now I'm sure you've got a ton of questions, but this ain't the place. We'll go to the Overboss's tower — your new quarters, the restaurant on top of good old Fizztop Mountain. We'll talk more there."

He motioned for us to follow him and turned away from us. I helped John out of his seat and held his and Liam's hands as I guided them through the room behind Gage. We walked down a hallway where a chain link fence separated us from the Cola Cars arena past the stands where all the Raiders watched Colter's demise.

We soon found ourselves in an old lobby with desks, office chairs, terminals, and a ticket booth by the doors. Gage opened the door and led us outside of the Cola Cars attraction.

It was still dark outside, but the moon hung low in the sky now. The front of the Cola Cars building was enclosed with a short concrete wall decorated in red and white and was lined with a few burning barrels, bored Raiders, and piles of garbage.

One Raider nudged another. "Hey, it's the new Overboss."

"Overboss, or Overbosses?"

"Guess we'll see..."

#fallout #fallout 4 #john hancock #gwenora rose isham #liam isham #fanfiction #fanfic #excerpt #fo4 #nukaworld #porter gage #overboss

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves]

I know you don’t do a lot of transformers stuff anymore, but can we get some cliffcee stuff? We are severely deprived of sub!Cliffjumper.

I still do it, technically, Only when I'm interested though. Lucky for you, Clifcee has me VERY interested! Let's do it!

"You ready, partner?"

"Only if you are."

Arcee had other mechs to choose from to train with around the base, but there was no one she trusted as much as Cliff. He knew what she was capable of, and knew better than to insult her by pulling punches. They took their positions, and the second the timer rang, Cliffjumper dove for her. He was a fast guy, charging at her with enough fury and speed to send the room shaking. And, to his surprise, she dodged in just the knick of time, grabbed his horns, and sent him right on his back.

Primus, she was smart. She used his own force against him, all without scuffing her pretty paint. He was about to get up, when her legs were suddenly around his helm, keeping him in her hold. Her legs were the strongest thing about her, and she never failed to remind him of that. He tried to pry them off, but her grip was relentless.

"Come on, you gonna let a little fem push you around? You gonna be my little glitch?"

He wished she didn't talk like that. Not because it was insulting, he'd been called far worse. It was because he liked it. He liked being called names by her, and liked how easily she subdued him. But he didn't want her to know that! He was her partner, being physically attracted to her would make it weird.

"Arcee get OFF!"

"Make me."

He went to try to punch her off of him, but she held a surprising death grip on his wrists, keeping them in place. He struggled, trying to get off the floor, much less get her off of him. She was so strong and firm and he...he REALLY liked it. He felt the familiar warmth in his systems, and he denied the request to open his valve panel.

"You win, alright?! You win!"

"That easy? That's not like you. What's your damage-Cliff you're leaking."

Sure enough, there were pink splotches on the floor under him. He thought maybe she accidentally dinged him up too bad, before realizing-his valve was leaking through his panel. She got off of him, inspecting his frame, before noticing just where it was coming from. He immediately crossed his legs, feeling plenty embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, it's nothing-!"

"Open."

Girl wasn't taking no for an answer, and holy shit did he like that. He had his legs pried open, and she clicked his panel open. His valve was absolutely soaking, begging for any means of stimulation. He felt gross, knowing this was from his partner. She looked up at him, curiously, and the guilt sank further.

"I'm sorry! You were just. Gettin' kinda rough and stuff just...happens. I can leave if it's-!"

"Cliff, I'm your partner. It's my job to take care of you, and you take care of me. To do that, you need to like, talk to me. If getting bullied by a little fem is something you like, I can work with that."

He was about to ask just what she meant, when she shushed him, and kept his legs parted for her. He watched her in absolute fascination as he reached between her legs, and opened her spike panel. Obviously it wasn't as big as his, but that didn't matter. What mattered, was that it was hers, and eager for him. He squirmed in her hold, mainly out of nerves, but he knew better than to actually try to run. Arcee would hunt him down and make him take it if she had to.

Luckily for her, he WANTED it. She let her spike run up and down his valve, and despite the size difference, it made him absolutely wet for her.

"So what is it that got you going, Cliff? Was it the fact that I had you on your back in a second,"

She was rubbing her tip right against his node now, making him try desperately to have a grip on the floor below. Her eyes were so intense, so pretty. He needed her, and needed her bad.

"The fact that I called you names? Or is it just because a little fem is gonna ruin you?"

She was such a blunt fem, never beating around the bush and always being open and up front about things. He chuckled, mostly in nerves, fully waiting for her spike to absolutely destroy him.

"It's all of that. And because I...trust you. More than anyone."

He thought for a moment, he turned her off, given her features. But he was terribly wrong. She got her grip tight on his thighs, and pushed herself into him. He couldn't believe he could feel every single node ignite inside of him, from a spike so small and thin.

"And I trust you're gonna sit there and take it."

And take it he did. She was furious in his thrusts, hips clanging loudly against his own as her little spike brought him pleasure he never knew he could reach.

"A-arcee, please-!"

"Look at my optics when I'm FUCKING YOU."

She grabbed onto his horn roughly, forcing his gaze onto hers, and it was so perfect, it made his spike panel open. It revealed his spike, so much bigger than hers, absolutely leaking with fluid. He wanted to beg for just a bit more, just something to push him over the edge, when he covered his own mouth as soon as someone spoke.

"Hey Arcee? Me and Bee want the training room!"

"I'm busy fucking!"

"W-what-"

"I said I'm fucking busy! Do something else!"

Cliff heard the footsteps as they inevitably walked away. Arcee pulled out of him, her spike, soaked in fluids, now being stroked in her tiny hand.

"Bend over there."

There was always a table off to the side in these rooms, mainly for holding energon and such. He shakily got up, and laid on the table, grip tight as he immediately felt her behind him. She dug her servos into his aft, and pushed herself back in, immediately using him to her satisfaction again.

"Who's gonna be a good bot?"

"Me! Imma be a good bot!"

"Who's gonna let me overload in them?"

"Me! Please Arcee, please-"

She overloaded in record time, hot overload pouring into his folds. He thought that'd be all, but that was underestimating her. She was tenacious, relentless. She kept thrusting, only this time, started to rub his cherry red note simultaneously. Her voice was low, angry, and dominating.

"You're gonna let me milk you, aren't you, partner? You gonna leak all over the poor table?"

He nodded, practically whimpering as the onslaught wouldn't stop. His aching spike, covered his own fluids, was pressed against the table, only making further mess. You know what they say.

No one rides quite like a cowboy.

#arcee #cliffjumper #lemon #hope you enjoyed it its been a bit since I've written them! #asks

[loneleegirlee]

the beast must die fked me good. going into the first few chapters i instinctively knew this was going to be one fked up manhwa. but no, i was not prepared for how fked up and realistic this manhwa was going to be. the art was mid but towards the end (i think the side stories especially) the art became so good! especially when kirin grew up.

i want to say i wont read this again but i feel like i might because it’s actually impactful. everyone knows the author did a lot of research on the topic and they are so freaking smart like maybe 20 episodes in, i got confused because things were happening so fast and i couldn’t comprehend it.

i am used to seeing the good in the characters because of all the manhwas i read. so i kept convincing myself about kang moo. he is such a well written character and i cannot delude myself into ignoring the facts of his character. he is no saint. he is not morally grey. he is black. that’s why in the first part of the manhwa, he was able to tolerate the shit that was being done to the main character. although kang moo is black, i cant bring myself to say he is a bad person. i really cant. and not in a “i pity him” way, but in a “i like him” way so i cant think badly of him.

i feel my heart breaking for kirin. kirin has been through so much and i want nothing but a happy ending for him but he will not have one because no one will love him romantically. i realised that in manhwas, when the characters don’t explicitly say “i love you” to each other, i think to myself “so, do they know the other party likes them?” (checkmate) i mean, acts of service does work, but words of affirmation are important right? anyways, somehow throughout this manhwa, even though “i love you” was never said, i somehow stupidly thought they loved each other. i feel so damn stupid because it was only kirin and his acts of service are so damn strong to the point that words of affirmation is not even needed? when i realised that, it was so heartbreaking.

i glossed through the final ending and once again, i could not comprehend what was going on. or perhaps this time, i had an inkling but wanted to ignore it so bad. i looked at the author’s replies to comments and i felt sad.

firstly, the first comment hit me so hard because i convinced myself that kang moo loved kirin. but i forgot something important which is that sometimes, yaoi are realistic and there is no happily ever after.

the second comment was an oof. the fact that kirin’s life was entangled with kang moo from then on and how the author said “think”? it’s felt as though the author treated her characters as real people with their own thoughts and emotions so she cannot say for sure how the character felt but she was trying to understand them.

anyways, then my late night thoughts hit. (as if last night with ‘i’m yours, blood and soul’ ending was not harsh enough [honestly, yes it wasn’t as harsh as today’s but still]) and i found myself crying because of kang moo and kirin’s story (the fact that i cant put love before story? fk me a million times over) . i kept thinking about the first comment and the 3 years thing. (how there was no meaning behind 3 years or 5 years besides the fact that it would be cruel to say “the rest of your life”? i’m almost crying again.) then, i decided to whip out my phone and some checks just to make sure there was a happy ending (like maybe kang moo and kirin lived together until they died) but i saw this instead.

what do you perhaps? 😭 it was such a bad feeling but i pretended like the author just didn’t want to say they slept together after.

so, unsatisfied, i continued on my search to see if the author said anything about a happily ever after. i couldn’t find so i just went to see comments about the ending. and wow, this comment by BeliNicole on anime planet made me cry.

i fully agreed with the part that kang moo cares but doesn’t understand it as care or love. but somehow i was convinced that it was love because the manhwas i usually read with characters will eventually realise that its love. even though i knew kang moo was a psychopath and the author mentioned / hinted throughout that he has no feelings, i still thought that kang moo could change. (how dumb because even the person who diagnosed him basically said he was untreatable)

anyways, i read this part a few times and the last few sentences sent me. at first i thought perhaps kang moo would go on a killing spree because he feels heartbroken (because if it’s not love why would he go down on kirin when he doesn’t like it and why would he bring / “force” kirin overseas with him and why would he be jealous when kirin talks to his ex?) but now i realise, it’s not heartbreak. it’s because his grounding is now lost and he has lost all reason (i am not super good at analyzing so i cant say i know whether it was jealously or why kang moo was jealous so i’m just going to attribute it to the fact that kang moo likes to be in control and hates being controlled [kirin did mention about this in one of his dreams when he saw kang moo go to jail]). its so sad because i thought kang moo was getting better once he integrated into life with kirin (the car scene with the manager made me laugh a lot and how kang moo celebrated kirin’s birthday? wow. i cannot. i have teared up again) kirin really loves kang moo so much and i want to say kirin is so handsome he could find anyone else and they would want him but kirin wouldn’t want anyone else. is kirin really lucky that kang moo is loyal to him because kirin will never experience the feeling of love (or maybe he did since he dated before?) anyways, i still feel sad because kang moo will never love kirin the same as kirin loves him. in fact, kang moo will never love kirin full stop.

it just occurred to me that if kang moo knew how sweet he was acting, he would immediately clarify that it was not intentional. perhaps kang moo did not want to lead kirin on because he knows he cannot give kirin what he wants.

this commentor helped me tie the knots about the ending and it broke me because the facts was laid out plain and it made sense why i went so far to find out if there was a happy ending. it also made me realise, kang moo is not morally grey but black. initially there was a part about how he doesn’t kill humans and i kept harping on it so even when he did take lives (especially towards the end) i kept thinking that it was unintentional. but no, i was deluding myself. kirin really loves kang moo and i know i keep saying it but the more i say it the more i realise how much kirin loves kang moo and i feel so sad and i’m crying again 😭. i cant even say i feel so bad for kirin because the author said kirin probably doesn’t regret meeting kang moo. shit, this sucks so bad. no wonder kirin cried in the last chapter.

thank you BeliNicole for opening my eyes and making me realise what a tragic masterpiece this manhwa was. i really never want to read it again because i don’t want to cry this much again but i think i will read it again someday 😭

[liddell-alien]

A Fantastic Lie

Rating: Teen and Up

Paring: Izzy/Female Original Character

Chapter: 1/?

Summary:  Maggie Smith used to be a member of Blackbeard's crew and she's now sailing with him again, on the Revenge. She's chilling with Lucius when she accidetally mentions that Izzy and her have histoty together...

Dear Diary,

three days have passed since I’ve joined the crew of the Revenge.

I have absolutely no idea of what is going on aboard this ship. Edward has lost his beard. His face is weird.

There’s another Captain. I don’t know why there are two Captains… he’s kind, though. Uncomfortably kind. I don’t like him very much.

The crew is unique, and by “unique” I mean useless. I don’t know if we’re going to survive this voyage.

Perhaps, I should have picked another ship.

Edward really looks like shit these days. Word has it he had a few bad weeks. I remember those times on his ship when I used to sail with him, the dark days we used to call them.

Anyway, the crew’s useless but I’m having fun. The young writer is-

“Lucius” he interrupted, as he stopped the writing, putting his quill down and using it as a bookmark.

“What?” Maggie seemed surprised by the sudden intermission; she blinked in confusion and looked in his direction, avoiding eye contact.

“My name’s Lucius. Are we done yet? This is getting boring.” He replied with a sigh.

The two of them were sitting next to each other with their back to the mast, close enough, but not enough to touch each other.

She leant forward, peeking over Lucius’ shoulder. Her eyes were moving fast over his handwriting.

“You misspelled ‘Captain’, and no, we’re not done yet. This is my diary entry. We’re done when I say so.”

Lucius’ eyebrows rose to his hairline as he checked his work, and he found the typo.

“Wait, you can actually read?”

“Yeah… I can write, too.”

“Then why the hell am I doing this for you?”

“Because it’s your job? And I didn’t want to steal it from you. Besides, your handwriting is very pretty.”

Lucius looked at her in disbelief. He had known the woman for three days and usually understanding people came easy to him, but sometimes the words coming out of Maggie’s mouth were so sudden, so unexpected, so random… she was still a mystery to him.

“I honestly don’t know if I should take this as a compliment or as a joke.” He replied, flat and a slightly taken aback. “But thanks? I guess?”

“Can we go back to the entry, now, please? I have more to say…”

Lucius stayed silent for a moment, then he picked up his quill and waited for her to start speaking again.

I found out the boy’s name is Lucius and I think he’s pretty cute.

“Aw, thanks…”

“Shut up. Write.”

“My, God. You’re bossy…”

Then there’s the one that can talk with birds. I can tell he’s smart.

“Wha- Buttons? You think Buttons is smart?”

Maggie just ignored him this time, she kept her eyes fixed on the sky above their heads.

Steve-

“Stede…”

“Fuck off!” she blurted out; her elbow hitting hard the side of Lucius’ forearm.

“Ouch! You’re strong, too!” he whined, rubbing his sore arm. Maggie was tiny, bony and looked a little malnourished. Not the kind of woman you’d describe as ‘strong’, but she could indeed punch you in the face and make you bleed profusely.

Stede told me all their names when I first met him, but I barley recall any of them.

“Obviously…” Lucius laughed, but before she could hit him again, he protected himself with the diary. “Sorry! Go on!”

The short one always glares at me suspiciously. I think I’m in danger.

“You mean Izzy? Don’t worry, his barks are worse than his bite. But I thought you’ve been a member of Edward’s crew, like… years ago.” He tried to stay quiet, but he just couldn’t.

Maggie turned her face to him with a puzzled look on her face.

“No, Izzy’s my husband. I mean the other short one. The one that’s good with knives.”

Lucius nodded, it made sense now. “Oh, that’ll be Jim. They’re definitely dangerous, but you’ll get use- wait what?”

“What?”

Lucius was now staring at the woman with his mouth ajar, in utter shock. He wasn’t even trying to pretend the news didn’t bother him.

On the other hand, Maggie was staring back at him in the most clueless way. Confusion was written all over her face. Her big dark eyes were filled with the fear of having said something wrong. Perhaps she had cause Jim’s rage without acknowledging it.

“Does Jim hate me? Are they going to kill me?”

“What? No. I mean, I don’t know. Jim kinda hates everybody but Olu? That’s not the point. You’re Izzy’s wife? That bitch is married? To you? I mean… sorry. No offense. I- I’m going to need a minute here.”

The words came out of his mouth like a river; shocked and amused, Lucius put the diary down and he started fanning himself with the quill.

“None taken. He is a bitch” she shrugged. “But yeah, we’re married… by accident.”

At this point, Lucius was very much interested in what she was saying. He needed to take notes. The diary was once again in his hands and he started scribbling quickly.

“This is gold. What do you mean ‘by accident’?”

“Well, it was years ago. We were celebrating a successful raid and the whole crew was pissed and I mean pissed. So, we were singing and dancing, howling like sirens under the moonlight, and one moment later, Izzy is proposing. I said yes… Edward officiated the wedding and ten minutes later we were married. I mean he married like three other couples after us because he had so much fun, so it was like a wild night but still… one out of ten would recommend.”

“Mh-mh… this is… God, I’d give my other finger to see this.” Lucius seemed very invested, but Maggie had a weird look on her face. “What? It was that bad? I mean… I can see why, but… Why did things turn out so bad?”

She sighed and rested her head against the mast, closing her eyes, letting the cool, salty breeze to dishevel her hair.

The memories of that night still vivid like fire in her brain. Their song playing in the background, the singing, the dancing, the cheerful laughter of the crew, Edward hanging from the mast, swinging his sword and yelling at the sky… it felt like a goodbye since the beginning.

“I panicked. The morning after, I just panicked.  I left the wedding ring on his bed, stole the rowboat and fled. I mean, yeah, we were fucking around… but… marriage?” Her eyes were open again, still fixed on the sky. The sound of the ocean was relaxing, but the memories were making her feal uneasy. “I don’t know. Anyway, when I tried to come back on the ship, months later, he said I could fuck off, so of course I stayed until he had to accept my presence. And when he did, I sort of… ran away again.”

“No, you didn’t!” Lucius had stopped writing, he was hugging the diary, listening to the story in awe.

“Okay, this time I had my reasons.”

“I’m starting to sympathize for the man, this feels wrong. You’re bad.”

This time Maggie turned to him and Lucius could see the despair in her eyes. He’d meant to be funny, she clearly took it seriously. She opened her mouth, her voice quivered, Lucius immediately felt guilty and tried to stop her, but Maggie was already trying to explain herself.

“I mean it! I had my reasons! Someone had information-”

“Maggie!”

Izzy’s voice came loudly, from the decks behind them; Lucius and Maggie both jolted in surprise, he immediately held onto the diary for dear life, exhaling loudly and placing a hand on his heart.

“What are you doing with him?”

Maggie didn’t reply as she sat back straight, trying to recover from the scare.

“Good morning” she said, instead.

“What?” Izzy sounded confused.

“Good morning, Maggie. Good morning, Izzy. How are you? I’m fine, Izzy, thank you. It’s a beautiful day, innit? It really is!” she sounded annoyed, as she looked up at the first mate, with a huff.

Lucius relaxed and hid a smile behind the diary; Izzy stayed silent, looking back and forth between him and Maggie.

“Good morning,” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair, fixing it.

“What?” she taunted, with a straight face.

Lucius almost snorted.

“I said good morning, now would you get up and follow me? We need help with that fucking map of yours” he gritted through his teeth.

“Not with that attitude, I’m not going anywhere” Maggie replied, dead serious. “You scared the shit out of both of us, an apology would be appreciated.”

“No…”

Lucius was dying inside, and he couldn’t resist. “I got very scared, I would love an apology, thank you” he had to bite the inside of his cheeks to remain serious throughout the whole sentence.

Izzy seemed to be on the verge of self-combustion, there was a pulsing vein on his forehead so big that Lucius though it was going to explode. His eyes never left Maggie’s though. She seemed very determined to get her apology and Izzy’s reaction to her demand was hilarious, to say the least. If Lucius didn’t know any better… but yet again, he did know how to read people…

And there was something in Izzy’s eyes that was screaming something along the lines of ‘not in front of him’.

The silence started to sound way too loud and uncomfortable, and when Izzy’s eyes slowly began to drop to the floor, Maggie’s hand snapped and she pointed her index finger to her face.

Lucius silently mouthed: “Oh, my God,” this was the most fun he had since he came back aboard the Revenge, after almost being killed by Edward.

“I’m sorry,” Izzy’s voice was clear but filled with anger and shame.

“And?”

As Izzy closed his eyes, he huffed and turned his back to Lucius and Maggie. His sword dangled by his side. “Would you please follow me?” without waiting for her reply, he left, limping back to the Captains quarters, using his cane for support.

Once he was out of sight, Maggie relaxed her shoulders against the mast for a second and inhaled deeply. Then, she got up and stared at Lucius with the corner of her eyes, silently, as she started to walk away.

He was still trying to process the whole conversation, with a huge grin on his face when he called after her.

“Please, please, please… tell me you spank him, too. Honestly, it’s the only thing I need to know” he teased, with a chanting voice; then he immediately added: “for now…”

Maggie was already on her way to meet with the Captains when she stopped and turned to face Lucius, her eyes sparkled with a tinge of malice but her face was dreadfully solemn.

“Only when he deserves it.”

#izzy hands #israel hands #izzy hands x oc #izzy hands fanfic #ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd fanfic #lucius spriggs #con o'neill #lily writes #my works #a fantastic lie #chapter one #chapter 1

[blametheeditor]

Jeremy Messed Up: Chapter 3

NOT SUITABLE FOR ALL AGES

Previous

Mike was just a night guard waiting to be killed by the end of the week. Now, he is the proud, and soon to be sole owner, of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. Business is booming, animatronics are teeming with life, and Foxy is back in the spotlight after so many years. Even so, the dark past of Freddy's is slowly encroaching upon them. One with more ties than they could ever imagine.

Content Warnings: Mentions of death and murder, want to harm someone, cursing (lots of cursing), mentions of tracking someone down

___________________________

"Like we need to 'talk'."

Mike goes to rip his hand away, only to glare up at the man currently acting bipolar as fuck with the grip tightens even more so than before. More than he thought was possible. He doesn't attempt to apologize or act polite, though. Even with something that might be a bruise forming, he's dealt with goddamn animatronics turned zombie murderers.

This was nothing.

"You don't understand-"

"About what, Mr. Perfection? You left Foxy to rot? You forced the best fucking people to not do what they love? You wanted to leave them?"

He's playing a dangerous game. Mike knows it. He's seen that face so many goddamn times. Before Mr. Fuck ever hired him. Before he even went into the work force...

But that's why he's so comfortable. Henry can't hurt him. Que the growling man finally releasing his hand.

That's what I thought.

"Do you know where I've been?"

"Weird ass question in my opinion." The taller shakes his head slowly. What, so it's not a weird ass question? Sure seems like one to him!

"Mr. Schmidt. This is Freddy Fazbear's." A glance toward the doors that were built to keep out something more than just robbers. "A place you never hear anything good about. But we have the most stories drifting around than any other franchise.

"And yet no one knows where I've been? How about my partner? The famous William Afton who was an inspirational man. He started a revolutionary chain of restaurants for everyone to love and enjoy. Something that has slowly become the ground for rumors of haunted animatronics and murdered night guards without prompting. Yet neither of us has been reported for whereabouts."

...he has a point. The only reason Mike took this job was because he simply needed fast cash. This was the only dumb that had 'good' money and was really the easiest thing to do. Not only that, but no asked for a resume. Age. Qualifications.

But that doesn't mean the asshole goes and ditches his pride and joy. "So? You're a coward?"

"A coward hunting down my own partner," Henry states.

That's when Mike bristles as the man sits up, attempting to act pleasantly. Wanting to get on everyone's good side. Not to show he's better, at least, but it still pissed the younger off.

"There was a bite. A famous one. If someone smart enough figures out this restaurant's profits are going up, they're going to see why. They're going to see Foxy."

"So?"

"Mike they'll take him away!" There's panic in those eyes. Henry stands strong, but it was clear there was something nagging him. Even more so than when he spoke about 'hunting' his own partner down.

Where had William gone? Not even the news spoke about the man. No one actually knows anything about the business owner. A ghost to the deeds he did.

Wait...was Mr. Seal goddamn Afton!

Well, Henry doesn't seem panicked he let an apparently rouge man walk right past him. They were talking about something. Foxy. Bite. Shit happened.

"Don't you understand? He was one of my first creations? I'm close to them, I know they're sentient, Mike," Henry states, almost defensively. "He didn't do anything and yet I had to hide him. But at least he wasn't melted into scrap metal. Which he will if you continue this! All of them will!"

"Well that's better than the hell you placed them inside of!" Mike exclaims.

The man seems taken aback, confused, staring at the shorter with an unreadable expression. It makes the new owner want to snap and commit another 'bite' and rip his fucking perfect face off!

FOXY!

"They weren't allowed to free-roam! Something you fucking gave them! And yet where the hell were you when they stared longingly at the children! You might be 'saving' them, but you damned them to something worse than death! Perform on some stage after the gift you gave the assholes! It's like saying 'you won the lottery and you can finally pay all those bills and give your children the life you've always wanted for them' and then yell ‘pysche’ like some bitch! I gave them back what they deserve, Mr. Emily."

Henry moves forward, leering over the man with a fire burning in his gaze. "You don't know that. I love them."

"And I do too."

"You will get them killed."

"And you will make them suffer."

Glaring contest? Sure! Mike's up for that! He'll win. He always wins. Patience was key to the bastards who think it's their way or the highway.

He didn't see their faces when they were cleaned. They're actions toward someone they genuinely thought deserved to be murdered. Stop the want to help when before they couldn't simply because of a simple act of kindness.

Henry might've created them, but Mike was in charge now. The company owner lost the rights to Freddy Fazbear for disappearing for so long. He won't let Foxy get rebuilt and then sit in a corner for who knows how long, going insane. Chica deserves to make pizza. Bonnie deserves to start random shit. And Freddy deserves to feel as special as he makes the children he performs for feel.

There's a flicker of something as the man finally leans away from Mike. It was too fast to catch but it seemed something along the line of hope.

Yeah! Get that shit away! They're not some goddamn sappy love story!

"Mike, this is they're last day."

"Last day what?"

They both know he knows. But he's a smartass. "For free-roaming. They will be locked up tomorrow. And the day after tomorrow. Forever. And Foxy...he can't be seen by anyone."

"Like-"

"You will do this, Mike. Or I put you at the top of William's list."

Freddy quickly follows after Henry as the man leaves the office, offering a paw to the man after hearing the conversation. He wanted to stay with Mike, but the sound of breaths growing shorter and shorter meant a chair will be thrown at any moment now.

Locked up? After this freedom?

...Henry's right. It's the only way.

"When will we see you, Mr. Emily?" the bear questions. They stop in front of the doors, the owner smiling as a little kid is swept up immediately upon request.

"Take care, Freddy."

"Goddamn it!"

And there goes the chair. Not rolled into the hallway but grabbed and thrown over his head at the spot Foxy sprinted into.

That asshole! Telling him what to do after disappearing! What the fuck does 'top of William's list' even MEAN! It doesn't mean shit to anyone but Henry! And apparently his dickhead of a partner. Unless William is the name of his killer moth. Henry and Fucker's moths teaming together. Fuck them he knew it!

"What the hell am I supposed to-!"

"WAIT!"

Mike freezes. The air freezes. Because that didn't sound like anyone he knew. And no kid should be back here...

That's when he steps back from his desk he had been full intending to karate chopping in half. The man thought it had been his imagination, but it wasn't. There had been a cry from his desk.

But it wasn't the desk talking. Someone was underneath his desk. Seemingly hiding, too. Did Henry think he was dumb enough to see a spy like this? With a kid cowering in fear and staring at him like he'll hurt them?

"And who the fuck are you!"

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

#the Jeremy's back!!! #older writing #FNAF #Jeremy Messed Up #BTE writing #cw #content warning

[thefirsthogokage]

Criminal Minds 5x18:

'The Fight'

So, I think this is the episode that's the backdoor pilot for their first shitty spin off. Ugh. I should probably skip this. But then again, I probably have a lot to complain about...

Spoilers: Assume so.

Just fyi, the episode was worse than I remembered. So. Much. Worse.

Reactions/Commentary Below The Cut

God I'm not looking forward to this. I very distinctly remember Forest Whitaker did NOT know how to TV act. The overacting was STRONG. I do remember the first time I watched this, the previous time I had seen him he had weight a lot more.

Janeane Garofalo was fine though. Her character had a stupid name though.

I do feel bad it failed because the cast was done dirty through bad acting and writing.

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Forest is doing better than I remembered...so far. And he's so much younger in this than I remember.

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AHHH! That's right! Matt Ryan was in this! Poor guy keeps shaving shitty things happen to his show.

Oh, no, here comes the over acting. And not just from him, this woman, "Gina," too.

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Also, why tf would this serial killer kill transients AND father's and daughters?

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Oh, did they have too much music and stuff? That might have been another issue I had.

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Oh that's why the different types of victims, but god is this so complicated. It's literally straight up torture porn shit. Like, fanfic torture porn that's kind of fine in that medium, but not like this.

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This other guy in the red shirt, he usually plays bad guys. Happy for him he god a show, sorry it had to be this one.

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Cooper, Hotch probably has caller id. Seriously, what the fuck is with this crap. And the STAGING of everything is shit. Like, Hotch introducing himself while Cooper is actually closer? In what situation does that make sense? None. Like, I don't know if this is just writing issues, or directing issues.

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Oh my god, all the over acting. This mother/wife too.

Liking down, "oh my god," looks up, "you just got my family murdered."

WHAT THE GENUINE FUCK?! Is this acting direction or just all bad acting?

She is so BAD!

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The contrast between Whitaker and Gibson, movie actor and TV actor respectively, is so, so strong. Forest is way too strong, and Gibson, as deadpan as he plays it, comes off so much more of a person and less of an actor playing a part. And god I hate giving Gibson any degree of anything that sounds like a complement.

The pauses Whitaker makes are just so MOVIE and not human. Crap and I have like 30 min left of the episode.

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God I love Matt Ryan. I'm watching for him. I'm watching for him. I'm watching for him.

Over dramatic story though. But I love him. That poor, poor man.

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How do they know they are fighting each other? Jumping quickly to ideas. UGH.

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I do like the idea that Cooper has this odd team. But god, the execution was just calling for this to get the ax.

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I would be down for Matt Ryan's character and Prentiss getting together. That would have been fun.

Oooo, bring him back for Evolution Season Two! They need another male cast member, two vs. four just doesn't cut it. And Matt deserves the work.

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Ugh, I do NOT like this plot.

I don't even understand how Cooper made any connection between any of this at somepoint.

They are juggling too many cast members.

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Did Strauss just introduce herself by her full name, or did she really just say, "Agent Hotchner, Aaron Strauss?" Or did I miss hear that twice and she said "agent"? God that just. UGHHHHH

Just put Matt Ryan back on.

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I hate this episode, I hate the new people's acting (except Matt). I hate this. So much worse than I remember.

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Oh yes, the overacted, overdramatic Gina. Janeane replaced her, right?

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Smart girl. She saved her dad with the quick "not a liar too" bit. Though I am surprised she didn't do that sooner.

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Whitaker's posture with the gun, the hopping, geezus.

How would going to some random roof top help? Like, they didn't get away fast enough? He's gonna make the shot right? How did they get the chopper up that fast?

Oh, that's how the roof would help.

Thank goodness, just a few more minutes.

He's been hurting other people's daughters, why would he stop at this one?

He ...had a silencer? Is that legal? And of course that angle was bullshit.

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"Trust me it's not" "What'd you mean?" HAHA

Only good dialogue of the episode, that bit.

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God that was so bad. I'm surprised the IMDb rating isn't lower.

How could a casting director fuck up so bad to higher three over actors for one episode? And arguably the bad guy under acted.

UGGGGHHHH.

#criminal minds #criminal minds 518 #riley watches tv #riley watches criminal minds

[the-faultofdaedalus]

except Steve wouldn't fall on his ass bc he's a gymnast, what he'd so (in the 5th) is drop the shield and land in on his hands as if he were going to do a back flip

i mean fair enough but like,,,,,,,,, is it too much for me to want to see action heros just absolutely fuckin beef it

#also like. listen. listen. listen. i wanna know what the timeline of mcu steve specifically was re: combat training #like. he did basic. we saw that. #and then he got juiced and did the shows and then he just fuckin left #and then it's x-ammount of time later and he gets freezerpopped #so like. when did he properly learn martial arts and shit. was it then??? #also like im not arguing but like. ok in the 5th gif i can kinda see that #but specifically the aou one where he just. kicks the shield through the ultron chest #and goes full flat plank in the air #LISTEN this may just me not knowing shit about shit but like. i feel like the physics side of things does not work lmao #like. i see him landing on his back and then doing the like. jump thing back to his feet #but i dont see him not landing on his back #also i just think it's funny if like. hes just. entirely self-taught? #like he got beefed and did his rescue mission and then everyone just like assumed he knew wtf he was doing #when he absolutely does not #so hes just winging it and making up his own moves and tactics and shit #and it WORKS because he's smart and fast and strong enough to do that shit #so what you get is someone who technically? is just like. a whole mess #but like. practically? in a fight? is damn near unbeatable #because hes just fuckin. hes just fuckin going for it with his own mesh of moves #also like: mcu steve never fuckin throws backhand #ive seen gifs of sam doing it! #but! steve ALWAYS throws the shield like its a discus #never a proper frisbee backhand #even when a backhand would concerve momentum WAY better #(like that one aou jump-catch-throw moment #he has to reverse ALL the momentum the shield previously had #and thats just so ineffecient. and it's because he only throws forehand. #and never backhand) #my pet theory is that since frisbees didnt exist yet neither did the backhand throw for them #so like. the only way disk-like things were being thrown was. like a discus. which is forhand.