#kit's writing

[rainbow-flavoured-skittles]

’Cause Daddy Doesn’t Love Me, Mommy is a God

it’s here!! Almost 3k words of Jay centric angst why do these keep getting longer. this is split into two scenes; one from Jay’s childhood, the other right before he becomes a ninja. warning for one instance of mild swearing, cross posted to ao3

~

Jay poked at his cereal sluggishly. It was the first day of term break and he was all alone in the house. Again. Dad had gone to work, he was pretty sure, and wouldn’t be back until night. The housekeeper and nanny, Ms. Peony, was at her daughter’s wedding this week. None of the other employees were here today either, meaning that Jay had the house all to himself.

Giving up on his cereal, which had begun to get soggy, Jay went upstairs to his room. For other people, the house may have been considered eerily quiet, but for Jay it was normal. The only sounds he could hear were his own footsteps and the air humidifier. Gurgle. Gurgle. Gurgle.

Jay looked over his comic book collection. He had quite a few, ranging from Fritz Donnegan to Spider-Man to Wonder Woman. None of them seemed particularly interesting right now, though. Not even the Fritz Donnegan ones, which were his favourite. 

Maybe I can draw something, he thought. Pulling out some colour pencils and paper, Jay quickly sketched out a dragon. He liked dragons. Cole’s mom had told them stories about them. The dragon he’d drawn was blue, with yellow stripes and fire coming out of its mouth. Pretty cool, in his opinion. Maybe Dad could hang it up on the fridge. 

Speaking of Dad, Jay missed him. It was just the two of them when Jay was little, and now he was always busy. Jay missed when they would curl up on the couch with popcorn and watch a silly movie together.

Shaking his head to snap out of the old memories, Jay picked up another sheet of paper. Thinking about the past wouldn’t change the present. He went to go get the markers — he wasn’t technically allowed to use them, but they were needed for his new drawing.

Uncapping the orange marker lead him to realise it was dried out. He tried the red one instead, getting the same results. A third test showed that all the markers were likely dried and unusable. 

Great. Now he really had nothing to do. It seemed too early for TV, and he didn’t want to bother plugging in the video games. Oh, wait! There was a landline in the house. Jay wasn’t entirely sure how to use it, but maybe he could call Cole. Cole was always good company. 

Marching down the stairs now that he had renewed purpose, Jay found the landline and tried to remember Cole’s number. It wasn’t technically his, much like how the number Jay had given him wasn’t actually Jay’s, but it would contact Cole. 

Punching in the numbers, Jay watched the phone ring. Someone picked up on the fourth one. “Hello?” That someone said. It was Cole’s mom. 

“Hi, Mrs. Hence, it’s Jay,” Jay started. “I’m looking for Cole?”

“Oh, I’m afraid he’s not here right now,” 

Jay felt a pang of disappointment at that. “That’s alright. Thanks,” he hung up before Mrs. Hence could respond. It was rude, Jay knew, but he did it anyway. 

Now what could he do? It wasn’t even lunch yet, and Dad wouldn’t be back until after dinner. Jay had no one to talk to for the entire day.

Maybe a nap was the solution, Jay decided. Mrs. Chan, his old babysitter, had often said that sleeping helped pass the time. Though he wasn’t sure if that applied to kids, or just grown-ups.

It was worth a shot. Jay went back to his room, Spider-Man crawling up the stairs, and jumped onto the bed. His blankets were still rumpled from the morning, his stuffed animals shoved into the corner.

Jay closed his eyes and tried to sleep. It was harder than expected. The light kept shining into his eyes. Groaning, he pulled the blanket over his head, trapping himself in darkness. Much better, Jay thought. 

He woke up at about five in the afternoon, well past lunch but still before his dad would return. Jay rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and dragged himself out of bed. Mrs. Chan had been right. Now, time to get a late lunch (did it still count as lunch?) and some water. 

After a quick snack of potato chips and chocolate, Jay was feeling much better. Junk food was always good for energy, and Dad would (hopefully) be home by 9:00. He could watch movies until then. 

Turning on the television and scrolling through Netflix, Jay found that there weren’t a lot of movies he wanted to watch. Giving a brief shudder at Coraline, he eventually clicked on Into the Spider-verse. It was a good enough movie.

One movie marathon later, it was already seven o’clock. Jay went to the pantry and grabbed some instant ramen as dinner — perhaps not the healthiest, but definitely tasty.

It was getting dark, now. Soon it would be completely pitch black. Jay hoped that Dad got home before that. He didn’t like staying at home alone during the night. 

Jay slurped up the rest of his dinner and put the bowl in the sink. He’d deal with that later, right now he wanted to play with his action figures. 

Fritz Donnegan lands on the ground, sticking a perfect landing. “No sign of any ambush,” he says. “I’m going to look around, stay on guard.” He takes a step forward, and then— 

Downstairs, the front door slammed closed. Jay looked up at the sudden noise, and jumped to his feet upon realising that his dad was home. 

“Dad!” Jay ran into his father’s arms, hugging him as tightly as a nine-year-old could. 

“Hello, Jay,” Dad said. He pried Jay’s arms off himself. 

Jay tried not to let that sting. “I drew a picture for you!” He exclaimed. 

“Mhm,”

“Don’t you want to see it?”

Dad sighed. “Not right now, Jay.”

“Okay,” Jay said. “I’ve already had dinner, so there’s no need to cook for me,”

“That’s good,”

“I called Cole, too, but he wasn’t there. I did watch a movie, though. It was fun!”

“I need to shower and eat, Jay,” and oh, that was Dad’s ‘I’m Getting Tired and You Need to be Quiet’ voice. “You should go to bed now,”

“Okay,” Jay ran back upstairs. He hadn’t even gotten to show Dad his dragon picture. 

~

Jay looked up at the mansion he called home and frowned. Dad was considering sending him to boarding school after all the trouble he’d been getting into. “It wasn’t my fault,” Jay had screamed last night. Dad had started yelling, and he hadn’t wanted to deal with it anymore. Jay had stormed out the door and didn’t come back until Dad was asleep. 

No one was home right now, so Jay let himself in. Dad was still out with his girlfriend, Amanda. Yet another woman who treated Jay like he was rubbish, or pretended like he didn’t exist. After all, nobody wanted to deal with the illegitimate son of Cliff Gordon, Jay thought bitterly. Nobody except Cole, and he’d been gone for years by now.

Kicking off his shoes and shoving them in the hallway closet, Jay went to his room and collapsed on the ground. He didn’t bother locking the door. Dad would be out all night. 

Scrolling through his phone showed nothing of interest. There was a new trailer for some action movie, but it wasn’t like Jay had anyone to go see it with. Also, Jay didn’t want to see anything with his dad’s face in it.

Hmm. Jay’s thoughts drifted to the makeshift hang glider shoved up in the attic. It was one of the results from his venture into DIY-ing. (Not that Jay didn’t do inventing anymore, just that it was one of the earlier projects.)

“Where are you?” Jay muttered to himself as he dug through the attic. It was shoved full of old trinkets and boxes. None of them seemed to be labelled. So far he’d found two boxes of old books and papers, five boxes of assorted junk, and one box of family photos. But no hang glider.

He squeezed past another crumbling box of who-knows-what and threw aside an old lamp. Jay figured it was yet another priceless antique that had been left to rot, much like the other twelve pieces of junk he’d found so far.

His efforts were finally rewarded when he found the hang glider dumped into a corner. Picking it up and shaking the dust away revealed that it was (mostly) in good condition. Now to get it out of the attic and to a good hang gliding place. Doing his best to fold it up, Jay dragged the hang glider though mountains of boxes and down the stairs. Huffing and sweaty, he glared at it.

“You’re a lot more trouble than I expected,” he said. “This better be a fun activity,”

Getting the hang glider into his car proved easier than finding it. The trunk was just barely big enough to fit it. Jay wasn’t technically allowed to drive, but Ninjago City wasn’t known for good law enforcement anyway. 

The commute took just over an hour — enough time for Jay to finish the podcast he’d been listening to. 

“Ugh, finally,” he muttered as he parked the car in place. Dragging the hang glider out, Jay found the nearest skyscraper and climbed up. He got strange looks for it, and it was a weird sight to see a teenager with what was essentially an oversized kite, but he managed.

The building he’d chosen was a good spot for hang gliding. With lots of other buildings around it, Jay had a much better chance of not falling to his death and landing safely on another rooftop. Sure, it was probably illegal, but no one would notice. Hopefully. Jay really hadn’t thought this through. 

Well, too late to back out now. Jay spread the glider’s wings, checked to make sure he was fully strapped in, and jumped.

It was exhilarating for the first few seconds, but Jay quickly found that the rest of it was terrible. The glider worked — he had gotten a smooth takeoff, and he wasn’t falling to his death, but Jay should have realised the billboards scattered around were a hazard. He crashed into one with about as much grace as a manatee and collapsed. The world was swirling. Jay bet that if anyone could see him, they’d see birds flying around his head. 

“Well, isn’t this an interesting sight?” A voice startled Jay out of his dizziness. 

“Wh— huh?” Jay looked up, head still spinning, to see an old man sitting calmly and drinking tea. 

“Who are you?” He blurted, then realised that was probably rude. 

The old man didn’t seem offended. “A dreamer, like you,” he said. 

Jay resisted the urge to call the old man crazy and run away screaming. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“You may call me Wu. I’ve been waiting for you for a while,”

“What are you, some kinda stalker?” Jay narrowed his eyes. 

“No, nothing like that. I want to offer you an opportunity,”

“An opportunity?” Jay parroted. 

“Yes. There is a dark force rising, and I cannot stop it on my own. You have great potential. I want to train you in the ways of spinjitsu,”

“I don’t— what?” Jay’s head spun from all the new information. Or maybe that was the probable concussion. 

“You have potential you are not aware of, and I can help you unlock it,” Wu sipped his tea. 

“What’s this ‘spinjitsu’ gig going to involve? I wanna know what I’m getting into,”

“You would be able to help people. And the world could very much depend on you,”

Do it, something in Jay whispered. He took a breath and put a determined look on his face. “I’ll do it,” he said carefully, “but I need to pack first. And I can’t just run off without telling anyone,”

Wu nodded. “Of course. Meet me here tomorrow at sunrise, and we will start your training,”

“Yeah, sure,”

Wu smiled, picked up his teapot, and walked to the side of the building. When Jay blinked, he had vanished. Stupid cryptid old man and his stupid cryptic messages. 

Jay left the remains of his glider on the rooftop. It was unsalvageable, and Jay figured that he wouldn’t have a use for it anymore. He found his car, shoved the parking ticket into his pocket, and drove home.

The house had lights on when he returned — that wasn’t a good sign. It meant that Dad was back, which meant the argument from yesterday would start again. Great. 

Jay opened the door as quietly as he could, cringing at the creaky noises it made. You would think a multimillionaire celebrity could afford to oil his door hinges, but apparently not. 

Dad was standing in the main hall when Jay turned around.

“Where have you been?” He snapped. “I’ve been waiting for over an hour now.”

Jay scowled and looked at his dad angrily. “I was out.”

“Out doing what? I grounded you,”

“Doing stuff,” 

“You are grounded. You’re not allowed to leave this house.” Dad glared at Jay, but it had lost the intimidation factor years ago.

“Well, I did. And it’s not like you would’ve noticed,” Jay said that last part under his breath, but Dad still caught it. 

“Why wouldn’t I notice?”

“Because you’re never around! There! I said it! You’re never around, you don’t ever know where I am, you don’t care about me!” Jay exploded. “All you care about is your stupid career and fancy house,” Wow, where had all that come from? Jay wasn’t normally very vocal towards his dad. 

“Jason Edward Gordon! Go to your room and don’t look at me until you’ve apologised.” Dad glowered. 

“Well then, I guess I’m not gonna look at you ever again,” Jay spat. He marched up the stairs and slammed the door. 

Cursing under his breath, Jay stomped around the room and looked for his backpack. If he was going to become some sort of ass-kicking vigilante, he’d need supplies. 

Clothes. A couple pairs of socks. Water bottle. Headphones. Tablet. All these items were shoved into a duffel bag — the backpack wasn’t big enough. Though Jay was still bringing the backpack, because it was cool. 

He made a point to be as quiet as possible. Let Dad think he was sulking, when really he was plotting an escape. The old man Wu had said to meet at sunrise, but Jay would have had to pack even if he wasn’t running away, so it didn’t make a difference to do it early. 

Jay looked into his drawers for anything he might want to keep. There probably wouldn’t be any coming back after he left. He found multiple trinkets he’d bring — an old pocket knife, some notebooks, a portable charger. All of those would be useful. 

Digging even further led him to find an old bracelet. It was old and tattered, and the little star charm was banged up, but Jay remembered this bracelet. Cole had given it to him right before he got shipped to boarding school. Jay slipped it into his pocket. 

A bottle of lotion got thrown into the mess that was his bag too, along with a couple books. Jay left his phone. He didn’t want to get tracked, and he rather doubted Wu had Wi-Fi. 

Zipping up the duffle bag and shoving it under his bed proved easy enough. Jay thought about writing a note, but decided not to. Not like Dad would bother reading it. He fell into a dreamless sleep quickly. 

At exactly four o’clock in the morning, Jay’s alarm sounded. He didn’t normally wake up so early, but sacrifices had to be made if he wanted to get to Ninjago City before sunrise. He grabbed his duffle bag and crept down to the kitchen, planning to get a quick breakfast. He didn’t expect his dad to be sitting at the table. 

They made eye contact. Dad opened his mouth, clearly planning to ask what Jay was doing, so Jay spoke first. “I’m leaving,” he said. 

That seemed to stun Dad into silence. “What?” He finally croaked out, face a perfect mask of shock and confusion. 

“I’m leaving,” Jay repeated, “I don’t know if I’ll be back.”

“Why?” 

Jay shuffled his feet. This conversation had not been a part of his plan. “I got an offer,” he decided to say. “I was told that I have potential, and that I could unlock it,”

Dad rose to his feet. “Who?” He demanded. “Who told you that?”

“Just someone,” Jay shrugged.

Dad narrowed his eyes. “Was his name Wu?”

“I— yeah,” Jay admitted. 

“I should have known,” Dad sighed. “Your mother knew him. She always said that you’d have to make a choice, someday. I suppose this is that choice.”

“Mom knew him?”

“I don’t know all the details, but yes. You should go. I think we both need time alone, and it’ll be good for you. Just stay safe,”

“You don’t get to parent me after ten years of forgetting me,” Jay snapped. 

Dad looked at him with sad eyes. “I know,” he said. “I wasn’t cut out to be a parent. If you don’t come back, I understand.”

Jay thought back to his earliest memories. Their relationship hadn’t always been this strained — he could remember good times, with movie nights and silly dance parties and being tucked into bed with a kiss. But he couldn’t find the words to say all that, so instead he said, “I’ll tell you if stuff happens.” An inadequate response, but it would have to do. 

Dad nodded grimly. “You can take the car,”

Jay nodded back and took the keys. He walked out the door, started the car, and didn’t look back. He’d have to drive quickly if he wanted to make it by sunrise.

#Jay is not having a good time in this one #I tried to make his meeting with Wu parallel the one in canon #I think it turned out pretty well #the next one focuses on Cole and Lilly's death #it's going to be split into 2 chapters most likely #bruise childhood friends au #jay walker #cliff gordon #jay ninjago #ninjago jay #lego ninjago #ninjago #ninjago au #ninjago fic #kit's writing

[kitsunesakii]

Imaginary friend

"That one will be five dollars." 

     I bit my lip, staring at the cheap, sorry excuse for a jar. It wouldn't even hold half of the mushrooms that I wanted to use it for. I could have sworn that I saw some better quality jars in the window... 

     "Say, aren't you the Wich that lives in the forest." 

     I gave an exasperated sigh. Rubbing my hand over my face. Just because I happened to be the only Fae of the town and just because I happened to own a nice chunk of forest with a nice loft house. And just because I HAPPENED to wear a large grayish-blue hat that my dear mother made for me did NOT make me a Wich. 

     "I'm not a Wich, and is there any other jars that you have?" Annoyance stirred beneath me, under my poncho and jeans, just above my pale skin in the form of foliage and fungus. 

     "No" she started crudely. "You look like a Wich, or," the older woman squinted at me, her eyes scrutinizing every inch of skin that I couldn't cover. "Maybe a vampire?" 

      if they weren't afraid of me they were just jerks. 

     *She's so rude isn't she?*

     I whipped around the small shop. The small wisp sound of my hat cut through the silence along with the short startled yelp of the woman. But the shop was empty except for us. 

     *my apologies, I didn't mean to scare you.* 

     I blinked, I was losing it. One look at the woman told me that I was very quickly going to get kicked out of yet another shop in this excruciatingly small town. Dang it. This is why I stay at home. Stupid storm. 

     "Nevermind" I said half consciously, my eyes still studying every inch of the shop for some sort of clue. Probably best just to head home. 

     I walked out of there, well aware of how the woman hurriedly locked the door behind me, or how a young woman and her kid not so subtlety crossed the street. 

     *Such rude people, they'd never get away with that in the city*

     I turned in a 360, well aware that I was alone. 

     "I'm not a huge fan of ghosts." The moment I said it the moment it hit me that it was, in fact, a stupid thing to say. 

     A snicker sounded in my ear. 

     *Well thank goodness that I'm alive*

     "Is it normal for me to be hearing voices?"

     *I take it that you don't watch the news* 

     "No" I said slowly, training my eyes forward as I walked to the bus stop. 

     *Interesting,* 

     The voice was definitely male, and there was an almost playfulness to it, gently sprinkled with a hint of a purr. Different then the harsh clash of words that I'm normally met with. I imagined him with golden brown, traditional boys cut hair and onyx eyes. It was a simple flash of an image in my mind but I felt just a little more sane. 

     His voice broke through my thoughts and dragged me back to reality, well, however real an invisible voice could seem. 

      *What do you even need jars for?*

     His voice sung no song of mockery or disgust that I was so used to hearing. Seemed Imaginary. 

     "I forage for mushrooms and plant leaves to sell at the monthly farmers market." I blinked, I was humoring an invisible voice, great. "There was a storm recently that broke all my jars." I mumbled that last part. 

     Another small chuckle resounded at my left. 

     "What?" I snapped defensively. 

     *no offense 'shroom Cap but it does sound like your a Wich, it's just a little funny.* 

      Did the invisible voice seriously just call me 'Shroom Cap?  "No it's not!" But I found myself smiling. 

     "It doesn't matter anyways." I continued flatly. "Nobody in this blasted town ever sells me actual serious supplies... Maybe I should take a risk with the city." Not that I ever actually would. I'd make my own before dealing with the stiff  concrete towers  that mocked the beautifully graceful trees. 

     *Well I'd love to give you a tour.*

     "An invisible one?" I joked 

     *I'm not well appreciated in the city, probably not the best 'visual' tour guide* his voice simulated a smile, I wondered what he looked like. 

    I was still talking to him. 

     Arriving at the bus stop, I chuckled, the walk seemed shorter than normal. the bus was already pulling up. 

     *It looks like this is where I leave you*

     "I guess so."

     *by the way, if you ever get the chance, I heard the local bakery is giving out free pies, even for 'Shroom Caps'*

     My smile was accompanied by just a hint of red that washed over my face. I hadn't even seen his face. 

     I didn't care that the bus driver scowled at me. 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

     I got home relatively quickly considering it was a mile walk from the bus stop. 

     Tucked behind the trees and nestled into the foliage. A small gated plot was made for farming right outside a dull blue house. Crawling with vines and shrubbery. Home. 

     The inside was just as cozy, with a small fireplace and books everywhere. Two couches surrounded it with a nice coffee table in the middle. 

     A humble kitchen rested in the corner and a little staircase leading to the loft. 

     I did own a tv, but it was broken and nobody wanted to travel into the woods with a 'Wich' to fix a tv. Which is why I didn't watch the news or know anything outside of my little town. I wondered what he had meant by that. 

     The sun didn't shine as bright here, the tree leaves blanketed the forest well, giving a humble forest fae with sun irritation perfect comfort. 

     What an interesting day. I packed up whatever  shoddy jars I had left with my  eroded satchel and went out foraging. 

     A few hours went by and finally as the glow of the sun settled under the blanket of trees I headed home with my treasures. 

     The next day I headed back out into the town. I don't go into town. But...It couldn't hurt too much, I thought about the bakery. I'd never had fresh pie before..

     Beside the Bakery nested an amazing oak tree that had to surpass the town in both age and beauty. I could feel its strong roots tangled deep in the soil, layers and layers under the surface. Its branches were thick and coating every limb entirely was blankets of leaves. The foliage under my poncho moved and grew at my excitement at such an amazing evergreen. 

     "Hey are you gonna buy something or are you just gonna stand there looking like an idiot." 

     "Oh" I stammered, walking up to the little window in front "I heard you were giving away free pies?" 

     He gave me a stubborn frown. He was tall, or rather, the bakery window he was looking out of was tall. A bushy  mustache covered the majority of his face and I'm sure if he smiled it would fit him nicely. Unlike the mean frown that scrunched up his face, making him look red and wrinkly. 

     "Don't know what you're talking about." 

     I'd never been a confrontational person. And this was once again another instance where I backed down instead of arguing. 

     "Oh, well," I glimpsed at the menu. "I guess I'll have one slice of pie please." 

     He rang me up and I waited at the table under the oak. It shouldn't hurt, I'd been in this town long enough to know that some people can simply be cruel. Just because I'm only half human didn't mean that I didn't have feelings. 

     "This is why I keep to the forest" I grumbled under my breath. 

      After a minute he came back with a piece, setting down with a mildly disgusted look before tending to the next person. 

     The chair across from me creaked. 

     *Such a brilliant tree isn't it?*

     I hummed in agreement, watching as dust particles moved subtly in wisps around his side of the table. 

     "You know I don't think I've asked you your name," 

     *Oh yeah! My name is Joshua, but you are welcome to call me Josh, as for you, you can tell me your name but I prefer calling you 'Shroom Cap.*

     I ignored the last comment. "Joshua," I repeated, mulling it over in my head, I had a name, some glimmer of possibility of hair. I wondered what he liked to wear. "My name is Autumn." 

     I took a small bite of pie, it was nice. The rouch crust surface was just thin enough to break with a satisfying 'SNAP'. "If I would've known that I was going to have company, I would have gotten you a piece."

     A chuckle resounded, followed by a slight shuffle. "Maybe next time. "

     "How mysterious," I teased, "So you said you live in the city? That would be the only thing that would cause any ruckus on the news." 

     "True, I always forget that most people in the city are far more familiar with supers than people hidden away in little towns and forest villages."

     I nodded in agreement, unconsciously taking another bite of pie. 

     "You know it's a little weird to me, normally people would get it that you weren't a Wich simply by seeing you enough times, but these people have acted like this is the first time they've seen you in forever."

     I was silent for a moment. "Well, Normally I only come out during the Farmers Market the last Saturday of the month, it's a big event for our little town and gets a lot of flak from the nearest city...." My words trailed off as the realization started to click. 

     "So..." He paused, the nothingness on his chair gave me no indication of scrutiny. "So you never come out of the forest? Why were you in the shop yesterday then?"

     "The storm broke all my good jars, I use them to store the mushrooms that I sell." It was getting extremely hard to look straight ahead. 

     "That sounds.... Lonely." 

     The words hit me harder than I thought necessary. Washing over me and drowning me in a sea of thick dread. I wasn't used to any sort of kindness, and he wasn't joking or judging. There was no grimince in his voice. No sense of hate or horror. I was so used to the crude behaviors of the town, the same that were expressed for my mother, the same that kept me locked up in the forest all day. Who knew I would crumble with just one statement?      

     But I couldn't speak. Couldn't move. This was some sick joke wasn't it? Some game was being played on me because I was vulnerable. 

    My defenses kicked in. "It's not lonely," I snapped. Standing up, frown still glued downwards. "What do you know? People probably don't look at you as if they were looking at death. You probably can have relationships, friendships." My voice was breaking, the small voice in my head was screaming for me to stop talking, stop yelling at the *one* person who seemed nice. But my buried hurt was louder. I took in a breath. Speaking lower than a whisper as I walked away from the oak tree, "I didn't choose to be alone, the world chose it for me." 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I spent the rest of the evening crying. Once I was in my part of the woods I attached to the nearest tree and seeped into it. Letting out my frustration in the form of magic, transforming my pale soft skin into rough tree bark. Mushrooms grew out of me thickly and to anyone at first glance it simply looked like a tree with a thick, strong root. 

     I closed my eyes and let my strength come from the tree. It was actually probably the best choice of action considering that I would be well nourished when I awoke. But that wasn't what I was focusing on. 

     That was stupid. Lashing out at the only person who had seemed to care. I guess I wasn't really meant to be loved. 

     When I woke up I found that a blanket had been draped over my shoulders. 

#OMG #this took me so long #everytime I was close to finishing it I frickin added to it!!! #writing #imaginary friend #.... somewhat angst? #romance.... maybe.... 👀 #kit's writing #IM BACK I SWEAR #fae #forest #mushroom stuff #this will have a part two don't yall worry!

[bratfiction]

18+ CONTENT — MDNI

loser, college!könig… like actual loser who barely knows how to talk to girls. but god, you’re so cute and small compared to him. he can smell your sweet perfume and has definitely, surely noticed how little your skirt is as you sway on your feet next to him, looking up with those glossy eyes of yours.

“what do you want?” oh. he’s as much of a brute as he looks, you’ve come to realize. straight to the point, a bit scary.

his eyes narrow while your mouth falls open but nothing comes out, your eyes are welling with tears and könig feels the need to roll his own while you blubber about how much help you need in the class you two share. you’re the only one that can help me; you sniffle pathetically, hoping it will persuade him into tutoring you in these trying times.

you’re seconds away from falling to your knees and pleading him— luckily you don’t have to because könig is holding out his phone, expecting you to add your number into his contacts. and of course you do while continuing to sniffle and babbling out thank you’s that he chooses to ignore.

“i’ll text you and we’ll figure it out,” he grumbles before leaving you where you stand in the hallway.

if only you knew that you’d end up bent over his desk a month later, curses falling from your lips with every thrust that shakes your entire frame and rattles his stupid PC monitors on his desk. your hands are planted on either side of his keyboard, trying your best not to accidentally slam your palms down on it in a cock-hungry haze.

you’re unsure of how he even managed to bully his way into your cunt in the first place. all you remember is that his head was under your skirt for at least an hour before you got this far, making you all messy with his spit as his fingers worked their magic inside your pretty cunt. “prettiest cunt i’ve ever seen,” könig made sure to tell you, before flattening his tongue in your folds and forcing your hips to grind down.

fuuuck, könig— you whimper tearfully. but at the same time you’re pushing your bum back to meet his thrusts, savoring the feeling of your cheeks being pressed flush against his hips every time as your back arches perfectly. könig squeezes your waist beneath his giant hands, but they end up cupping your tits eventually, squishing and squeezing to make you tremble even more in his hold.

truthfully he doesn’t know what’s come over him. doesn’t know where this sudden ability to pull orgasms out of such a cute dumb girl came from, especially with his limited but very valuable experience. however he does know that your cunt is heavenly and the way it squeezes him is better than any fleshlight he’s ever had, admittedly. enough to have him seeing white and throw his head back with a breathy groan every few seconds. he thinks he needs it every day.

you’ll be lucky if he lets you leave his dorm after this.

— want more loser, college! könig?

#⌨️.kit's writing #🤍.COD #🤍.loser!könig #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #cod mw2 smut #cod mwii smut #call of duty smut

[boyfriendstevie]

sturdy

steve wants to test out the desk he just built for you | everyone say thank you @superblysubpar for encouraging me to write this hehe | 2.7k, f!reader, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv. don't do it kids. 18+ as always!! mdni!!

“Babe! C’mere!” Steve calls from the spare bedroom, echoing down the hall of your new apartment. 

You’re in the kitchen, starting to unpack a few boxes there, while Steve had been working on putting together your new desk. Obviously, you’re more than capable of putting your own desk together, but Steve had offered, and, well, sometimes you have to make the patriarchy work for you. Placing the half-unpacked box of silverware onto the counter, you shout back a reply and head through the maze of boxes to the bedroom, “I’m comin’! Give me a sec!”

When you reach the bedroom, Steve’s standing in the middle of the room, hands on his hips as he looks at his handiwork. His back is to you, so he doesn’t notice when you come in, and you take a second to admire him. He’s quite the sight; wearing an old pair of gym shorts that are a bit too small for him, a well-worn shirt that might be yours — you’re not sure from this angle — and a baseball cap on backwards to keep his hair out of his face. He looks so good, and it hits you then, just how lucky you are. How lucky you are to be living with your ridiculously handsome boyfriend who offers to build things for you out of the kindness of his heart and looks ridiculously good while doing so. 

“Hon—“ the word dies on his lips as he turns around to find you standing in the doorway. A grin stretches across his face at the sight of you, making your heart flutter in your chest. “You starin’ at me, stalker?”

“So what if I was?” you ask, crossing the room so you can throw your arms over his shoulders, “I can’t admire my hot boyfriend?”

A strong arm wraps around your waist to pull you close. He hums in thought before shrugging, “I’ll allow it, I guess. If you give me a kiss.”

“Deal,” you murmur as you lean up on your toes to press your lips to his in a soft kiss. It’s short and sweet, but you don’t mind. “Thanks for building the desk, baby.”

“Anything for you, honey,” he hums quietly in reply, dipping down one more time for a quick peck on the lips. His hand rubs over the curve of your hip gently as he adds, “Hopefully it’s sturdy enough…”

“Steve, I’m sure it’s fine, as long as you followed the directions—“

“Maybe we could test it out?” he asks, giving you a cheeky grin, eyebrows raised in question. 

You snort a laugh, eyebrows furrowing together. You’re pretty sure you know what he’s getting at, but you ask anyway, “And how would we do that?”

His smile grows, looking a bit more mischievous as he turns you around and slowly begins walking you back towards the desk. You let him lead you, giggling with your hands on his shoulders, until you bump into the desk. He leans down to kiss you again, and just before your lips touch, he squeezes your hips and mutters, “Up, honey.”

It’s a messy kiss, your lips nearly missing Steve’s in the effort to get up onto the desk, even with him helping you up. You briefly wonder if this is safe — you have no doubt that Steve built the desk well, but you highly doubt that it’s made to support a whole human’s weight — but the thought quickly passes by when Steve takes your thighs into his hands and pulls you towards the edge of the desk for a proper kiss. 

Steve’s nose nudges into yours, poking at your cheek as he kisses you, lips slotting against yours. He kisses you as if he hasn’t kissed you in days, groaning into your mouth as you rock your hips forward, searching for his touch. You let out a whine when his teeth nip at your bottom lip, tongue quickly following suit to soothe the bite. 

“You know, I was— I was mostly kidding,” Steve pants when he pulls back between kisses, lips pink and wet as his tongue darts out. 

“I know,” you reply with a huff of a laugh, twisting your fingers into the soft hair at the nape of his neck, “But you look so fucking hot, and you just built me a whole ass desk, and we fucking live together now, and— please just fuck me on the desk, baby.”

“Shit. Yeah, okay, I can do that,” he quickly agrees, not quiet believing his stupid line actually worked, and that you’re spurring him on as you wiggle your leggings down your hips and legs. The fabric gets stuck at your knees, and Steve springs into action, murmuring something about how it’s his job to undress you as he pulls at the fabric until he can drop it to the floor. 

His hands land on your thighs again, thumbs pressing to the soft flesh at the inside of your thighs as they push up towards your core, spreading your legs apart as he goes. There’s no mistaking the small damp spot in the center of your panties as you squirm under Steve’s gaze. Pressing the pads of his thumbs to the crease at the apex of your thighs, he finally looks back up to you and asks, “Can I taste you first?”

Your answer is a quiet, choked moan and a frantic nod, “Please.”

Steve doesn’t have to be told twice, sinking to his knees in front of the desk as he pulls you closer. It’s the perfect height for this; your burning core only inches from Steve’s hot mouth. He wastes no time in leaning forward, pressing the softest of kisses to the growing wetness there, nose nudging against your clit through your underwear. A low groan comes from deep in his chest, “Can I take these off?”

Before Steve can even finish his sentence you’re nodding again, lifting your hips off of the desk as best you can so he can pull the fabric from your body. As soon as your underwear is on the floor, he’s back on you, licking a broad stripe up your cunt that has you gasping in surprise at his eagerness, “Steve—“

“Mmm,” he hums as his tongue finds your clit, sending vibrations up your spine as he sucks softly and rolls the sensitive nub between his lips. 

It makes you keen, a high-pitched whine that might be embarrassing if you weren’t so blissed out. Your legs tremble as he kisses back down towards your dripping entrance, and your fingers twitch with the need to hold onto something. How Steve always makes you feel untethered so quickly, you’ll never know, but you remedy the problem easily, pushing his hat off of his head. It’s perfect timing on your part; your fingers rake through his soft hair just as his tongue dips inside of you, lapping at your slick. 

You pull at the strands a bit harder than you mean to and Steve moans against you. The sound isn’t quite loud enough for you to hear, but you can feel it. The sensation makes your legs close around Steve’s head, but an arm curls around one thigh before it can press against him. It doesn’t take much for Steve to push your leg back down and hold you open for him, despite how much you’re squirming. 

Steve pulls back after another sloppy kiss to your clit, lips shining with your slick and his own spit. He’s grinning, borderline smug as he nuzzles into the crease of your thigh again, nipping the delicate skin there, “Y’always taste so sweet, baby. Only fitting that my pretty girl has the prettiest pussy, huh?” 

You squirm again, this time in embarrassment, and huff a pathetic whine, “Steve, stop—“

“Well I can’t lie,” he all but giggles, pressing a kiss to your hipbone as his gaze drags up your body to meet your eyes, “Want me to keep going? Or d’ya want my cock?”

Both sound like great options, but you can see the outline of his hard cock in his slightly-too-small shorts, and you want him. Reaching down to brush some hair out of Steve’s face, you murmur, “You. Want you.”

“I gotcha, sweetheart,” he smiles, sweeter this time, giving your thigh another kiss before he pulls himself up to stand. 

Your chest heaves as you reach for him, taking the fabric of his shirt into your grasp and yanking him closer for a kiss. You can taste yourself on his mouth, but you don’t really mind, especially as his hands roam up your sides, inching underneath your shirt to cup your breasts. He’s teasing again, thumbs barely brushing over your nipples. But two can play at that game, even while he’s kissing you so hard you can barely breathe, and you slip a hand between you, palming his hard cock over his shorts. 

“Okay, okay,” he pants after a moment of shaky breaths and wandering hands, “Can you— will you bend over for me? ‘S that alright?”

Instead of answering, you slide off of the desk and cup Steve’s face in your hands to give him a firm kiss. You make a show of turning around, leaning over your brand new desk until your forearms press to the wood grain. You hear a small groan from behind you as you push your hips backwards, ass pressing to Steve’s bulge, “Christ, sweetheart. How’d I get so goddamn lucky? Fuckin’ gorgeous, and all f’me.” 

Warm hands spread wide over your hips, the pad of Steve’s thumb rubbing a short line over one of the dimples in the small of your back. He gives your flesh an appreciative squeeze before his touch is gone. You huff a whine at the loss of warmth and you hear a quiet chuckle from behind you, “Relax, baby. Gimme a second.”

There’s a quiet rustle of clothing, and then Steve’s hands are back on you, pulling you back towards him. You’re about to complain, to ask him to do something, anything, when you finally feel the tip of his cock nudge against your entrance. Your breath catches as he pushes his hips forward, finally sinking into you slowly. He takes it easy, knowing that you’re plenty wet, but maybe not quite warmed up enough from just his mouth. 

He stops when the front of his thighs press against the backs of yours, fingertips dimpling your hips with how firmly he’s holding onto you. Like he’s worried you might slip away. You moan softly at the aching stretch of your cunt, dizzy with how full you feel of Steve, Steve, Steve. He’s all you want — all you can think about, “Oh f-fuuck… Stevie…”

You swear you can feel his thighs quivering against yours as he stills inside of you. You can hear the grit in his voice, picture the way his jaw is clenched, as he murmurs, “Okay?”

A shaky breath escapes your lips, and you nod emphatically, maybe a bit too quickly, voice a higher pitch than normal, “So good, baby. Move, please move, need y-yo—“

The words die on your lips as Steve draws his hips back slowly and then presses back in. Your head falls forward, mouth dropping open in pleasure with a whine. You feel hot everywhere; a warmth that starts in tummy and spreads slowly, creeping up your torso and chest, into your limbs, until it feels like your body is on fire in the best way. 

His hips roll in and out of your tight heat. It feels so good, and somehow, you still need more. Your forearms press further into the desk as you shift, pushing up on your toes to tilt your hips. You know that if you’re in just the right position, Steve will find the spot that makes you see stars. Desperate for the feeling, you shift again and hear a huff from behind you at the movement. 

Steve knows what you want, and pushes his arm underneath you, between your body and the desk. His hands press to the softness of your tummy and to the curve of your hips as he pulls you into a better position, angling your hips so he can reach even deeper. The new angle has you gasping with each thrust, a punched-out sound that you can’t help between whimpers of Steve’s name and expletives. Steve’s not fairing much better, and you can hear the low grunt he lets out every time his skin meets yours, “You’re so wet— fuck, sweetheart — y’hear that? Hear how wet you are f’me? Feel so good ‘round me, baby. So good for me.”

“Y-yes, yeah — ah, Steve! — all yours,” you babble in an attempt to answer him, though you’re too fucked out to be all that coherent. 

Seconds later, you get exactly what you’d been wanting when you’d shifted your hips; the head of Steve’s cock pressing to the spot inside of you that turns you to putty. The moment he finds it, your legs go weak, and Steve’s grasping onto you even tighter in an attempt to keep you somewhat upright. His arm curls across your midsection, and you feel his warmth against your back as he presses his chest to you. You can feel his breath, hot against the nape of your neck as he murmurs, “Right there, baby? That’s what you wanted, huh?” 

You clench around him, making the drag of his cock that much sweeter. The feeling pulls a deep moan out of Steve, sending shivers down your spine as he twitches inside of you. One of the hands on your waist pushes up under your shirt until he can press against your sternum, and then he’s pulling you almost upright. Your eyes meet his in the vanity mirror attached to the desk, and you moan at the sight; you look just as fucked out as you feel, and so does Steve. 

Lips on your neck, Steve hums, pleased, “There’s my girl. Look at yourself, honey, so so pretty on my cock, yeah?” 

“Stevie,” you whine his name, and he’s sure it’s the best sound he’s ever heard, “‘m close, ‘m so close.“ 

“Y’gonna cum on my cock for me, sweetheart? C’mon, honey, know ya can,” he says, his free hand snaking down your torso and your hips to find your clit. He circles it quickly, over and over, just how you like, and with his cock hitting that perfect spot deep inside of you, it doesn’t take long until you fall apart with a cry of his name. 

He’s not far behind you, hips never slowing their pace, even as he bends you back over the desk. Every wave of pleasure has your cunt clenching around him, and it pushes Steve over the edge, too, with whiny groans against your skin where his face is pressed. You can feel him spill deep inside of you and you shudder, eyes squeezing shut as your head falls forward, hitting the desk with a small thunk. 

Steve’s teeth sink into the smooth skin of your shoulder, quick and gentle, more of a nip, as he presses his chest to your back. Soft kisses soothe over the small bites, and then Steve’s pressing his nose into the crook of your neck, breath hot and heavy as he nuzzles there. You pant into your arms folded on the desk and melt into Steve’s touch as his hand rubs lovingly across your hip bones. 

“Y’alright, baby?” he asks, out of breath. 

“Mhm,” you murmur, post-orgasm haze still clouding your thoughts. 

“Good,” you can feel the curve of his lips against your spine, followed by a few soft kisses that trail down your back. He stops halfway down, hands settling onto your hips as he stands back up and slowly pulls out. 

You wince, still so sensitive, but let Steve pull you up and off of the desk, turning you around so your lips can meet his. He kisses you on the mouth, once, twice, and trails a kiss over to your cheek. Your fingers tangle into his hair and you let out a breathless laugh, “I think it’s sturdy enough.”

Steve huffs in amusement, “Thank god. Imagine if it broke while we were on it. And, good news, we just checked the office off of the ‘places we still need to fuck in the new apartment’ list.”

“If you bring me to the bathroom right now, we can check off another one.”

Eyes going wide, Steve grins, literally whisking you off of your feet as he says, “Deal.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x afab!reader #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington blurb #stevie #steve thots #kit writes

[vagabond-umlaut]

INVERSE FUNCTION (1)

yandere sukuna x fem!reader; stalking; insp: this song [pls listen to this after reading]

divider by @benkeibear; jjk isn't mine; pls don't plagiarise/translate/repost this ❤️❤️

Sukuna is hooked on you.

He has no idea since when, why or how– but he has a very good idea of the degree he is hooked on you— each and every small bit of you–

Your sleepy face, first thing in the morning as you open the windows to your room, and stare at the sky then the empty street below. Your peppy walk out the apartment, not even an hour later as you head to your classes, always so punctual– so neatly, cutely dressed.

The warm smiles you offer everyone you come across— be it the kids waiting for their bus, the florist, the barista who serves you coffee, or the many classmates you've whenever you step into the class, words of greeting leaving you and brightening the room, more than the sun.

And not to mention the endearing look of concentration your pretty features wear, when the classes start.

Sukuna swears he has to actively, very painfully, restrain himself from walking right up to you and kissing your face off, each and every time your eyebrows gather together and your lips pucker into a pout– only for your teeth to sink into your lower lip not a moment later, the flesh there growing angry red, deliciously so, as you continue taking notes of the lecture.

Although... the man thinks his favourite look on you has got to be the one you wear in the evening: when the classes are over, when all your friends have finally left, when you're by yourself, no longer smiling as brightly as you do. Seeming so tired, so very fragile, as you trudge on the darkening streets back to your flat...

It makes something weird, but not wholly unpleasant, curl up within his chest. So strong that it makes him want to pick up into his arms, and keep you there forever, safe and sound and well-rested. Forever with him, tucked in the safety of his embrace—

Sukuna is not too sure, but he thinks this feeling might be why he has suddenly decided to break into your house today, instead of watching you from afar like he has always done. Or maybe, just maybe...

Watching you from a distance is no longer enough for him.

He has to enter the place you call 'home'.

He has to soak up every drop, memorise every fleck of your life here.

Starting from the random tiny doodles scribbled on the canary yellow walls— to the thick hardcover books and notebooks in neat stacks on the sofa, the table, the floor— to the pressure cooker kept on the oval burner of your gas stove— to the queen-size bed in a floral bed sheet, visible if he walks past the translucent screen between your bedroom and living room— to the sketchbook lying on the bed– its pages filled with– filled with–

Sketches Of Him!?!?

Him working in the garage on a car. Him smoking at the bus stop you travel from. Him dozing in class, head propped up on a fist. Him busy eating sandwiches, binoculars on the bench beside as his gaze stays somewhere above—

The sketchbook is filled with drawings of him, him, and only him—

Something stirs and stutters and stomps on his sternum; albeit he is unsure why. Is it the fact that he finally realises he is standing right in the middle of your bedroom– the most intimate place in your life? Or is it because he is staring at these many sketches your dainty fingers have made of him– so beautiful, so careful, so unlike him?

Can it be the unease clawing at him, stemming from your knowledge of him being in places close to you, where and when he should never be? Or– maybe or– is it the thrill tingling his fingers, when he realises, you too have been at places close to him, where and when you must never ever be...

A door opens and shuts behind him.

Sukuna swerves back to find you standing outside your bathroom, in nothing but a flimsy nightgown, hair still soaking wet whilst the towel hangs off your bare shoulders.

Your eyes jump from him to the sketchbook in his hand then to him— before crinkling into two pretty half-crescents as you smile... Sort of–

"Tea or coffee, stranger?"

follow the series here 🥰🥰 // masterlist

#kit writes: Inverse Function #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen x reader #ryomen x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna fluff #sukuna angst #jjk fluff #jjk angst #tw yandere #kit posts 📝

[totallyboatless]

All of the actors for the Six of Crows storyline are remarkably well cast, but gonna focus on Kit Young for a second because that dude has something so fucking special. There's a subversive joy in his choices as Jesper that just kills me. Like at the end of season one with the line: "Tell me you have a plan. I don't care if it's a lie."

Reading that in your head without having seen his interpretation, the instinct is to go a little ragged, sardonic, exasperated - something to tell us that the character does actually care but just fucking can't deal with this shit right now. But Kit puts a pleading inflection on the line, his Jesper truly wants to be lied to, bringing it around to comedic desperation.

And it's not just with this line delivery, those facial expression reactions he does elevates every scene he's in. My favorite underrated moment is when he gives Wylan a confident wink and thumbs up when they're both getting the shit beat out of them. The juxtaposition of Jesper indicating "this is going exactly according to plan" when it's clearly not brings so much fun to the scene.

But the scene I keep coming back to over and over that I'm blown away by is under the carriage, when Jesper remembers Wylan. I could see so many actors taking those line directions and putting some angst behind them. We know Jesper was hurt when Wylan left in the morning, we know he blocked it out because his ego was bruised and he didn't want to face the pain of it. It would have made perfect sense for the line reading to have an edge to it, any indication of a grudge.

But Kit's face is lit up with nothing but fondness and joy as he remembers. And obviously actors aren't islands, the writers and directors have big influence - and they clearly are in line with a joy-filled Jesper, since the first thing they have Jesper say isn't "and you left me," it's "and you brought me stroopwaffles."

Jesper isn't a clown, but he's allowed to be one when he wants to be, and Kit leans into choosing joy with such effervescence. It only serves to make the dramatic scenes that much more heart wrenching. I hope we get a lot more Crows on screen, but whatever happens I'm excited to follow Kit's career, what a talented dude.

#actors that make my fingers itch to write #kit young #jesper fahey #six of crows #also his social handles are kittheyounger #what a fucking nerd #shadow and bone

[kitausu]

I just want everyone on Andrew’s professional team to think Neil is a bad influence. Sure, Andrew had a bad reputation in college, but in reality he's quiet and keeps to himself and never starts shit (even if he will finish it). Meanwhile Neil is loud and brash and has public feuds with at least 5 reporters at any given moment. He averages one brawl a game and is known to be arrogant and difficult to get along with.

Neil finds it Delightful. He's thrilled by the idea that there's a whole professional exy team out there that feels nearly as protective of his husband as he is

When Andrew tells him their captain asked if Andrew had ever considered divorce Neil practically threw a party. He owns more merch for Andrew’s team than his own.

#aftg #all for the game #andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #kit writes hc

[ninacarstairss]

no i’m not okay inej told jesper he’s family too, he’s the first man who made her feel comfortable again after the menagerie, the only one she can touch and hug like a brother because she knows he’ll always be there to protect her, to love her like a sister, to shield her and understand her whenever this life they’re leading gets too harsh. jesper is family. he’s her brother too

#i am sobbing so hard #i can barely see what im writing okay #inej ghafa #amita suman #kit young #jesper fahey #shadow and bone #six of crows #grishaverse #sab netflix #shadow and bone netflix

[ktsumu]

18+ NSFT MDNI. SHOWER ACTION.

You already know that Atsumu's in the shower before you hear him in it, nudging the front door shut behind you, heels falling off of your groaning feet. The first matchup of the pre-season has ensured that.

Muscle memory makes you step over the routine dufflebag he drops in the very middle of the entryway, shaking the strap off of your ankle when it catches. His sweater's on the back of the couch.

You'd take it down the hallway with you, but you follow the clothes like a roadmap instead. Toeing along, kicking his track pants out of the way with a scoff, rolling your eyes and wondering how he completely missed the hamper.

An athlete, he calls himself.

The shower turns your bedroom hot, steaming up the windows from the open ensuite door, the mirror dripping with water. You can feel the humidity ruining the hair you worked so hard to keep tidy this morning.

"Atsumu?" You sigh, tugging it loose and glancing at him through the mirror.

It's more so what you can see of him— the frosted glass of the shower punishes you mostly, keeps you to watching his blurry body turn, his head twist to your voice. You can see him turn to face the water again.

"Hey baby. How's work?"

"I'm gonna guess better than the game today?" You pick up his sweaty jersey with your foot, taking in the distinct yet familiar smell of sharp pines and locker room. "Judging by the state of our home."

Atsumu breathes out sheepishly, but it sounds like a grin. "I'll clean it all up, don't worry."

"I know you will."

"Yeah, for sure." He hesitates, humming when he rubs at the crook of his neck. "Maybe tomorrow morning? Swear."

You don't care when he cleans it up, really. Your eyes haven't left the shower.

Quietly, you start to undo your blouse, shrugging it off of your shoulders and peeling it off of your sticky skin. You toss it near Atsumu's abandoned shorts.

"Been in there a while?" you huff, blindly turning on the fan. "Hot as hell in here."

"Everything hurts," he groans. "Fuckin' hate coming off the off-season— not used to it."

You purse your lips. "Gonna stay in for a little while longer?"

It's quiet, aside from the shower running. His shadow moves, leans closer to the glass before standing upright again. His hands tease you over the top, combing through his hair.

"If someone wants to keep me company, can't really say no."

(He must sense your eyes rolling, because he chuckles and slips the door open a crack.)

You shimmy your tight skirt down your legs, stepping out of everything embarrassingly fast. Your cami ends up hanging off the sink and your pantyhose are in a ball, but Atsumu's waiting hand has you getting inside the shower as fast as you can manage.

Where he isn't drenched in water, he's painted by a thin sheen of heat, the steam of the shower dripping down his temple. His hand welcomes you first, guiding you closer so his lips can greet you next.

Atsumu rests a hand on the side of your face, droplets of water swarming down your chest like snakes. He kisses you sloppily, tongue trying at yours the second you let him, teeth grazing your lip when you pull away like he's begging you to stay.

"Sore, huh?"

His eyes travel down— over your chest, sternum, hips. His hands follow in the same order like a drill— tits, chest, beautiful, beautiful hips. "Forget I said anything 'bout that,"

"You should rest, really,"

"Stop teasin' me, it's just cruel," he frowns, "need you to give me a cure tonight,"

"Yeah? It's called eight hours of sleep and Voltaren."

He rolls his eyes, lidded with said sleep— the hand holding yours that pulls you closer and his half-hard cock between you say something entirely different.

Atsumu's hand gropes your ass, fingertips dinging into fat until you get impossibly closer, until he's basically against your stomach and you're basically just looking at his lips.

"You should—"

"Should," he emphasizes, murmured against your mouth as he kisses you again, chaste but lingering, "but this is what I'm actually gonna do."

"What?"

"You," he hums, tucking a strand of your half-wet hair behind your ear, blocking the water and hoarding you to himself. "Gonna be my cleanse."

You snort, fingers smoothing over his abs and down to the base of his cock, nails gently running over the dark trail of hair. "That right?"

"Mmmyeah," he says through a groan, yawning before he slots a hand in between your legs, trailing it up your inner thigh as you finally get him in your hand. It's the only place he's wanted to be all night, besides your bed. "Feel so fuckin' good, fuck,"

You sigh against his chest, tilting your head up to taste him again. Like spearmint, like the gum he must've chewed on the drive home just knowing you'd end up here.

"Shit, alright," he sighs, hips lazily rolling into your palm as you look up at him with eyes that make him wanna pass out.

"Gotta choose now— you wanna be on your knees first or do ya want 'em over my shoulders?"

You breathe out a laugh, sliding your hands over his slippery arms, over every muscled ridge as you lower yourself to the tile floor, kissing his hip when you get there. "Romantic, really."

Atsumu's body tilts your way, chasing your lips down, leaning into your touch as he brushes a thumb over your cheek. The kiss you place on his flushed tip is greatly appreciated— he lets you know it.

"Yeah, honey, I try," he breathes. He smiles so warmly down at you that it's almost like you're not about to suck him off. "Just wait until I get you to bed, yeah?"

"We both know you're falling asleep."

"Well, after we get outta here you will be, too."

"Mm, we'll see."

Atsumu barks a laugh, delicately running his hand up your nape before taking a stronger hold on the base of your hair.

"Oh, you're so on."

#what is this? i dont know. shower sex pregaming with atsumu???? in such a tsumu mood tonight wrote this in 20 #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu smut #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq smut #haikyuu smut #kit writes

[juniper-clan]

I'm not saying you need to have a favorite, but which kit do you feel more attached to Heronstar?

#heron seems so happy with them I’m actually kinda surprised #you know when a character pulls the pencil out of your hand more or less and write themselves #she is doing that about the kits #warrior cats #clangen #clangen warrior cats #jcasks #warriors oc #wc #wc oc

[rainbow-flavoured-skittles]

the first instalment for the bruise childhood friends au, mostly setting the scene before we get into all the shenanigans and fluff. Jay and Cole are about 8-9 here. cross posted to Ao3

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Jay hummed quietly while his dad talked with the adults. They were at another event — Jay didn’t care to remember which, they were all the same to him. Get in the car with the driver, arrive at the destination, don’t bother Dad while he talks with the grown-ups. Maybe play a game or read a book, but don’t be loud. Today was no different.

“—I think that it will go well,” his dad said. 

The man he was talking with raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yes, if all goes according to plan it’ll be a hit.”

“I would hope so,” the other man said. “I’ve invested too much time and money into this for it to fail.”

“Of course.”

Jay continued to sit in the corner, but he was bored. Just as always. But surely he would only need to wait a bit longer, and then he and Dad could go out for dinner. He was starting to get hungry. Really hungry. Jay decided to take the chance. 

He walked up to Cliff Gordon and pulled his sleeve. “Dad?” he said. “I’m getting hungry,”

“Not right now, Jay. I’m talking with Mr. Brookstone here.” Jay’s dad turned to the other man. “My apologies, he gets a bit restless,” he gave a dry chuckle. 

Mr. Brookstone laughed. “That’s alright. My son is the same,”

Jay’s dad looked down at him. “Jay, why don’t you go wander around for a bit? You can go buy a snack,” he placed a couple coins into Jay’s hand. Score!

“Okay, Dad.” Jay said. 

Dad turned back to Mr. Brookstone. “Now, where were we?”

That was Jay’s cue to leave. He turned and went out the big fancy door they’d come in through, then went down the hallway. There had definitely been a vending machine somewhere.

When Jay finally found it, he was shocked by all the options. “Wow,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. “So many choices.”

“Yeah,” a voice from behind said. 

Jay squeaked and spun around to see another kid, probably his age. 

“Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” the kid frowned. 

“You just surprised me.”

The kid shrugged. “Why’re you here? Didn’t think the audience was allowed backstage,” he uses a lot of big words, Jay thought. 

“My dad works here,” Jay said. At least, he was pretty sure Dad worked here. Though he hadn’t been in this building before, so who knew?

“Same,”

“Your dad’s an actor too?” Jay asked. 

The boy shuffled a bit, like he didn’t like this conversation. That was okay, Jay didn’t really like it either. “He’s a singer,” he finally said. 

“A singer? Like The Fold?” They were a band that Jay’s dad worked with before. He remembered them because one of the members gave him a lollipop. 

“Yeah, kinda. He’s a Royal Blacksmith,” 

Jay had not heard of them before, though that wasn’t surprising. He hadn’t heard of a lot of people. “Sounds cool,” he decided on saying.

“I guess,” he said. 

This kid seems lonely, Jay thought. Like me. 

That makes us the same. Couldn’t hurt to be friends, right?

Jay held out his hand. “I’m Jay Gordon,” he said. “We’re friends now. What’s your name?”

“Cole Hence,” the other boy said.

“Great!” Jay smiled. “I’ve got some money. Wanna share chips or something?”

“Yes, please,” Cole said shyly. 

Jay turned back to the vending machine. “‘Kay, what d’you want?”

“Anything’s fine,”

“Gummy bears?” 

Cole hummed. “Yeah, sure,”

Very, very, carefully, Jay inserted the coins into the slot. Then he pressed the little number pad. 0-4-6, he typed. The packet of candy fell out. “Got it!” Jay said cheerfully. He held their prize up. 

“There’s a table,” Cole pulled Jay’s arm. “We can sit there.”

“Why’s there a random table?” Jay wondered. 

Cole only shrugged in response as they sat down. 

Jay tore open the pack and passed it to Cole. “So which one is your favourite flavour?” He asked. 

“Strawberry,” Cole said. “Yours?”

Jay thought for a moment. All of them were pretty good, in his opinion. “I can’t decide,” he said. “They’re all too good!”

“That’s true,” Cole agreed. “But I still think strawberry is the best.”

“I think real strawberries are better,” Jay took another gummy. 

“That’s also true,”

By now, they had finished the pack. There hadn’t been a lot inside. 

Cole looked at the empty packet, then at Jay. “Do you want to go exploring?” He asked. “I don’t know when your dad will be done working, but mine won’t be for a while.”

Jay’s dad wouldn’t be finished working for a while, if the way he sent Jay off was anything to go by. “Mine too,” he said. 

Cole smiled a little at that. “Great!” He said. “We can keep talking then,”

“And exploring,” Jay reminded him. “I want to explore.”

“Yeah!”

“Where shall we go first, captain?” Jay put on a fancy accent, like the ones that he saw on TV.

“Hmmmm,” Cole looked around. “The balcony? It’s where fancy people sit!”

“I thought balconies were for standing,”

“I dunno,” Cole shrugged. “That’s just what my mom told me,”

“It does sound cool, though,” Jay said. “And I want to pretend to be a fancy person,”

“‘Kay,” Cole said. “This way,” he lead them up a flight of stairs — they were so pretty! Who thought even the stairs needed to be decorated? Jay wondered.

He decided to ask Cole about that. Cole seemed to know a lot about this place. “Hey, Cole?”

Cole turned to look at him. “Yeah?”

“How come everything here is so fancy?”

“Because it just is, I guess.” 

A lot of things just were, Jay thought. Like how Dad just never had time to play with him, or how Mom wasn’t around, or even how his classmates didn’t like him.

“We’re here,” Cole said, snapping Jay out of his thoughts. He looked around. The stage was very far in front of them, and he could see the giant speakers too. Jay felt very small compared to this room. 

“It’s huge,” he said in awe. 

Cole grinned. “Yeah, it is.”

“You can see the entire theatre from here!”

Cole considered that. “Well, maybe not the entire theatre,” he said. “But definitely a lot of it.”

Jay laughed. “It’s so cool!”

“When they’re performing, the entire stage lights up,” Cole pointed at the lights. “They even change colour.”

“You’ve seen it?”

“Yeah. My dad performs here a lot,”

“That must be fun,” Jay said. 

“Sometimes,”

“So, do you—“ Jay was cut off by a loud “JASON EDWARD GORDON! WHERE ARE YOU?”

“Oh! I’m in here, Dad!” Jay called out. 

Dad marched in looking angry. “Jay, what are you doing in here? I’ve been looking for you!”

“I was exploring,” Jay said softly.

That did not seem to be an excuse for Dad. “You were supposed to get some food and then come back,” he scolded.

“Sorry,” Jay mumbled. 

Cole was still frozen near the railing. “Um, sir?” He squeaked. “It wasn’t Jay’s fault. I’m the one who thought of coming up here,”

His expression softened at that. “And who are you, lad?”

“Cole Hence, sir. My dad works here,”

Jay’s dad frowned. “And your dad is..?”

“Lou Brookstone.”

“Ah,” Dad looked around and shook his head. “I was talking to your father earlier. He’s in the main lobby right now, waiting for you as well. I can bring you there to meet him.”

“Okay,”

Now Dad was looking at Jay. “Jay, next time you wander off you need to tell me,” he had a strict look on his face. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,”

“Good. Come on, let’s go meet Mr. Brookstone,” Jay’s dad marched the two of them out the door and into the elevator, then to the main lobby. 

“Dad!” Cole ran up to Mr. Brookstone. 

“Hello, Cole. Where have you been?” Mr. Brookstone looked mildly confused. 

“I was exploring with Jay,” Cole pointed at Jay, who waved awkwardly. 

“That’s nice,” Mr. Brookstone said tiredly. He patted Cole on the head. 

Jay’s dad looked uncomfortable, and he cleared his throat. “Ahem,” he coughed. “It’s getting late, and we still need to get home. We’ll meet again next week as planned, yes?” His smile was very strained. 

“Yes, of course,” Mr. Brookstone said, like he was just realising how late it was. “Come on, Cole. Let’s go,” he pushed Cole in the direction of the door. 

“Bye!” Cole waved cheerfully, undeterred by his dad’s sour mood. 

Jay waved back. “I’ll see you next week! I’ll bring games and everything!” 

Dad looked at Jay. He didn’t seem as angry anymore. “It’s good that you’re making friends,” he commented. 

“Really?” Jay looked up. 

“Yes,” Cliff said. “We have to get home now, and you still need to eat dinner and shower. So hurry up,” he walked out the door, Jay following closely behind. 

I made a friend! Jay smiled at that thought. And I get to see him again next week! Maybe getting dragged to his dad’s meets wasn’t so bad after all. 

#jay walker #ninjago #lego ninjago #cole brookstone #cole hence #jay ninjago #cole ninjago #ninjago fic #ninjago au #cliff gordon #lou brookstone #bruise childhood friends au #the reason Cole introduces himself as “Cole Hence” is because I hc his last name to be Hence-Brookstone #and only saying the first part just makes more sense #kit's writing

[heartstopperthoughts]

Charlie Spring is so strong

#I love Alice for writing this scene #not 👏 everyone 👏 deserves 👏 forgiveness 👏 #heartstopper #heartstopper s2 #heartstopper season 2 #heartstopper tv #heartstopper netflix #nick and charlie #nick x charlie #narlie #nick nelson #charlie spring #ben hope #b*n h*pe #b*n h*pe hate club #kit connor #joe locke #sebastian croft

[bratfiction]

-> repost from my old blog cause i’ve been DILF crazy lately.

DILF!SIMON ???

truly an old, grumpy bastard. kidding. he’s a dilf without even being a dilf— which is so fucking frustrating because it forces you to imagine actually having his kids and watching him walk around with a chunky baby to bounce on his big, ink covered arm. he always tells you that all you have to do is say the word, and he’d be happy to oblige. to give you a happy baby and make up the warm, bubbly home he never had growing up. he’d put a pretty ring on your finger, too. everything and anything despite your age gap.

and god… is he making sure you fall right into his trap. he’s even at it early in the morning, lounging in the living room with nothing but his briefs on, thick thighs spread and just waiting for you to sit your soft warmth right on top of them. above the elastic waistband digging into his carved hips are those solid abs that reside under the bit of pudge he does have. your eyes trail all the way up, to his beefed up pecs and bulky scarred biceps, while he reads the morning paper and has a mug of tea without a care in the world.

“simon,” you don’t mean to say his name, honestly. it slips out with ease as it tends to, because you cant seem to wrap your head around how this metaphorical and literal mountain of a man is yours. it escapes you on instinct as your feet carry you to him, shuffling in your slippers until your knees bump into his own.

you’re falling into his lap with a kind of desperation that is so familiar to him. he knows— he always does. so a calloused hand squeezes your thigh while you press yourself into him and already begin placing kisses along the underside of his stubbly jaw. his adam’s apple bobs as he speaks.

“ready t’ take me up on that offer?”

#⌨️.kit's writing #old blog was khonig teehee. #anyway #recycling things from the vault because i’m both too busy and lazy to write #*** #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #call of duty x you #call of duty x reader #call of duty smut

[boyfriendstevie]

just saw a post that was like “it’s women’s day!! eat pussy right now!!” and that is SO steve. he finds out it’s international women’s day, and when he gets home, he drops to his knees in front of you where you’re sitting on the couch, slides his hands up your thighs. he mumbles something about how much he loves you, how thankful he is for you, how much he wants to show you how much he appreciates you…

#is this anything? #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #stevie #steve thots #kit writes

[jazzythursday]

Wylan leaves in the morning.

He doesn’t plan to, not exactly, but he definitely doesn’t plan on staying, either.

Wylan is no stranger to one night stands. He can’t say he gets around very frequently, but enough to know the general plot of how they're supposed to go.

Flirt, drink, fuck, leave. The order isn’t necessarily set in stone, but the list ends the same every time.

He has a good time, for the most part, and it’s always a welcome break from the awful chemical smell burned into the Tannery or the staleness of the empty rooms in cheap boarding houses (when he can afford them) that Wylan is used to. Wylan likes the freedom that comes with it, too. It’s liberating to go where he wants and do what he pleases; to not worry about who he’s seen with or sleeps with or what they might think of him after. And he likes feeling wanted, for a little while. He likes being reminded that he exists.

So Wylan does not make a habit of falling asleep with the people who take him to bed.

He doesn’t even remember falling asleep, really.

He doesn't remember, and yet, Wylan wakes up with his head pillowed on Jesper’s chest. With Jesper’s arm draped over him. His breath is warm where it ghosts over the top of his hair, and if Wylan glances up he can see the way Jesper’s mouth— those lips— fall open in sleep.

It’s the best morning he’s had in months, possibly. Certainly the most comfortable.

He knows it can’t last.

Wylan looks at Jesper, still sleeping peacefully next to him, and he panics.

He’d woken up in Jesper Fahey’s arms.

He’d slept with Jesper Fahey.

Jesper has a reputation, and Wylan knows it, even new to the Barrel as he is. He’d heard about Dirtyhand’s second and resident sharpshooter plenty— Can’t resist a gamble, never misses a shot, and not just with bullets. Jesper Fahey is an excellent marksman, they say, with terrible luck with the cards, and a soft spot for pretty girls and even prettier boys.

Jesper’s played the field— multiple fields— went on a seismic world tour of fields.

Wylan is very good at not being noticed. He’s also very good at listening. People tend to look past him, they never pay any mind to the too skinny boy with the wild hair and the hunched shoulders and the grime that never seems to wash off completely after his long shifts at the Tannery. Wylan knows this, knows he’s very adept at being able to disappear, when he needs to.

So by the time Wylan actually meets Jesper, he’s well aware of his place in Ketterdam’s booming rumor mill. Jesper has many, and Wylan thinks by now he may have heard them all.

And yet, none of them do a thing to prepare him for Jesper.

They’d met in a tavern.

Wylan had been nursing his drink for the better half of an hour, trying to come up with reasons not to go back to the sad cot he had waiting for him in a rented room, with the only window overlooking the brick wall of a dark alley.

So far, he’d only come up with the one.

Wylan had seen the tall Zemeni man from across the room and hadn’t stopped looking since. He was flirting with a girl at the bar, twirling one of his guns in one hand demonstratively with a drink in the other. The girl— a curly haired blond— was giggling, hand pressed to her mouth with eyes that had very clear and direct intentions.

Wylan had almost resolved himself to a night of wasting the few kruge at his disposal with little to show for it, when the man had looked up and caught him staring. The man had smiled, twirling his gun with an extra flourish and then tipped his hat. Wylan smiled back, and gave a little wave. Embarrassing, He’d thought, stop it, he’s already with someone else anyway. He’d looked down, and stared at the near empty contents of his drink until someone sat down next to him and said, in a voice like apple butter and sweet syrup, “Can I get you another of those?”

Then Wylan had looked up into the eyes of the handsomest man he’d ever seen, and thought, he has the most perfect lips.

Out loud, he’d said, “I, uh, well—” His mouth was wide open, he’d realised, and shut it quickly. Again, the man had smiled. Again, Wylan had smiled back. “Yes, please.”

And that's how he’d met Jesper.

Afterwards, they’d stumbled through the streets— I know a place, Jesper said, If you want to take this somewhere more private— until they’d passed a corner where a vendor was selling traditional Kerch sweets out of a cart.

“Stroopwafels!” Jesper had stopped. “I love stroopwafels!”

Wylan was tugging him toward the cart without really making a conscious decision to move, and Jesper had laughed, surprised and delighted.

Wylan bought them both stroopwafels and handed Jesper his with a shy smile and a shrug. “For the drink.”

Jesper looked at him consideringly, head caulked to the side, and Wylan felt himself blushing in the low light of the lamps. “You’re sweet,” he’d said eventually.

“Is that bad?” Wylan had asked, sheepish. Jesper was already shaking his head.

“It’s good. Just not that many sweet things to be had in the Barrel. It’s refreshing.” He’d bit off a piece of one of the waffles and smiled. “These are sweet too,”— he’d leaned in, smile still earnest but with something decidedly different underneath— “I like sweet.”

Jesper had not touched him like he’d been expecting to be touched. Jesper made no assumptions; he’d asked, about everything, in a way that was near gentlemanly if it wasn’t for the fact that he radiated trouble through his pores. Jesper was— not quite gentle, because Wylan had expected hot and heady and everything deep, and Jesper was all of that and more— but he wasn’t rough. He didn’t bruise, not if Wylan didn’t say yes first, and afterwards he’d laid back down and settled Wylan into his arms in a way that he had no real way of protesting— didn’t want to protest, anyway— and kissed him.

It was that that had scared Wylan the most, he thinks. Because Wylan is rarely kissed for the express purpose of it. It was always the promise of more— the rush of what was to come. But people do not generally tend to kiss Wylan for the sake of kissing Wylan. It’s different. Jesper is different, and Wylan can’t afford to be stupid enough to do something like get attached. Can’t afford much at all— really.

But Jesper had kissed him, pleased and lazy and warm, and at some indeterminate time later they had both apparently fallen asleep.

And it was nice.

It was too nice. It hurt with how nice it was.

Wylan peels himself slowly out of Jesper’s arms, careful not to wake him, and decides then that he cannot stand to be here any longer.

Jesper Fahey is not what he’d expected, he’s better.

Jesper Fahey is lovely, and beautiful, and kinder to him than anyone has been to Wylan for almost as long as he can remember.

Jesper Fahey is more than he could have ever hoped for, and he isn’t going to stick around for someone like Wylan.

So Wylan leaves, and he doesn’t look behind him as he closes the door.

#wesper #inspired by the tweet about what kit said about their first meeitng #wesper drabble #wesper ficlet #wesper fanfic #wylan hendriks #wylan van eck #jesper fehey #shadow and bone #six of crows #shadow and bone fanfiction #Jazzy writes #jazzy writes fanfic #a drabble for your troubles?

[risingmoonyue]

Star Wars AU where the council time travels back to when Obi-Wan was still an itty-bitty baby initiate. Including, you know. Council Member Obi-Wan Kenobi. So they’re all in their younger bodies and talking with the current non-time traveling members of the council, and they’re like “hold on, we got one more coming in”

And in walks in like. Nine year old Initiate Obi-Wan, all chubby-cheeked with fluffy bright red hair, and giant blue eyes.

Just. Their faces, okay?

Now keep in mind I want the council to always be Up To Shenanigans. I’m talking like 2015 Avengers tower found family era fics okay, they’re one big family and Obi-Wan is now super officially The Baby and literally nothing he does will ever stop that again. And despite everything, every single council member is, at heart, incredibly petty in that special Jedi family way and are so ready to not be dealing with a war Right This Very Minute.

What I keep picturing is Baby-Wan wiggling his way into a chair, situating himself Very Regally, then clasping his hands in classic Negotiator style, then speaking up with the Most Serious Of Tiny Baby Voices as the main spokesperson on the Council Of Petty Time Travelers

I just want to see people not in the know

I want Jedi of all ages witnessing Jedi masters, councilmen and women, long lived and wisest of the Jedi, coming to the crèche to visit tiny lil Baby-Wan about his opinions on current events and how they should handle this treaty and also when are you free I want to test my soresu

I just think it’d be funny

#my writing #hijinks #star wars #text post #star wars the clone wars #star wars legends #tcw #jedi council #obi wan kenobi #mace windu #plo koon #yoda #kit fisto #shaak ti #listen I know there’s more council members but those are the ones I remember rn so #time travel #personally I think that peripherally there was always the acknowledgment of ‘oh yeah we all watched obi grow up’ #but there is a difference between ‘I remember like thirty years ago when you were tiny’ #and ‘OH WOW GUESS YOURE TINY NOW’‘ #guess who is never living this down ever?