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chososdiscordkitten · 27 days

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Keep Them On!

Synopsis: jjk men x reader w glasses ^-^ (yes they stay on during sex)

Includes: : 𝐍𝐚𝐨𝐲𝐚, 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨, 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨, 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢, 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐣𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢 Content: gn!reader, smut with a sprinkle of fluff, no plot, penetrative sex, cum play, oral (m), glasses kink(?)

MDNI

Naoya Zenin

Naoya is so mean when it comes to your glasses. At first, he was generally mean—pushing them up the bridge of your nose harshly when they would slip or hiding them whenever you made some kind of retort at him that he didn’t like.

Most of all, Naoya didn’t like it when he would say something you deemed ‘controversial,’ and you would take your glasses off in the middle of the conversation. Muttering something about how you didn’t want to see his face anymore.

So the next time your glasses were pressed against his face- lips slotted against each other and the plastic frames only making him more frustrated. Naoya pulled away from you, urging your head down to imply that he wanted oral. (yes he's a head pusher)

And when your hands reached for the little legs of your spectacles- Naoya sucked his teeth. Nodding his head ‘no’ and freeing his cock from his bottoms.

Muttering something along the lines of ‘I want you to see as best as you can.’ with far too much smugness coating his words with the very tip of his cock smeared against the clean glass with an amused laugh.

You scoffed as you felt Naoya slap his tip against the side of your cheek- urging you to open.

You were on your knees, between his legs, as he sat lazily on the couch, with one hand atop your head and the other wrapped around his base.

And when your lips finally had his tummy clenching, his eyebrows furrowed, and his head daring to tip back. Teetering on the very edge of an orgasm, Naoya pulled your lips off of his cock.

Your eyebrows furrowed, knowing he had a penchant for seeing you swallow his mess. Then it clicked when his hand started making filthy strokes at his cock- aiming his tip directly for the glass lenses with a smile.

His spend coating your glasses with a groaning huff from your lips. His only excuse was, “What? You were the one who said you didn’t wanna see me.”

When he saw the sight of the glossy frames being spurt by his cum- Naoya was sure to ask you for blowjobs with them on from now on.

Even if you spent the next 30 minutes complaining about how hard they were to clean- and how he was just being a brat. Naoya could always get you new glasses- or, as he put it. “Stop being blind, and you won’t need them.”

Satoru Gojo

From the moment Gojo found out you had glasses, he would make little comments about them. Not mean- just strange little statements that would leave his lips without filter.

When you would refuse to wear them in public- squinting at everything and holding onto his arm as a guide. Gojo would tell you to put them on, that you look even hotter with them. At once, even calling you a sexy librarian.

His own way of assuring you that a pair of glasses didn’t change anything to him.

He found it funny that he had perfect vision- almost too perfect, and you. Well, you needed pieces of glass to see or you would get dizzy.

In his mind, Satoru interpreted that as ‘I cover my eyes because I get sick if I don’t- and you wear glasses or else you get dizzy, another thing we have in common.’ just more ramblings of a man who was utterly whipped.

And this- well, it only translated to the bedroom activities.

The first few times- you always made sure to take them off. Knowing how Satoru can be with his afflictions for various positions- you didn’t want to break them. Same when it went for oral; you always took them off before going down on him.

And Satoru tried to get you to forget to take them off- be it interrupting when you’d try to catch up on work assignments, he would come in and distract you from them.

He would win most of the time- but you always took them off. Didn’t matter how pent up you or him were, you always did.

And the one time you chose to forget- too tired and completely uncaring if they stayed on while Gojo’s warmth kept you under the covers with him. Even if all of Satoru’s insides were screaming at him to say ‘Yippee’ and start jumping up and down at the opportunity presented to him. He didn’t.

Gojo went on about his tasks as he normally did- but when it came to spreading your thighs to welcome him, looking upon your framed eyes and smiling to himself at the little fog formed at the bottom from how heated your cheeks were.

Even more when his thrusts became frantic- your head moving against the pillow and slightly moving the glasses on the bridge of your nose.

And your hands were far too busy gripping on his arms- his hair, whatever part of his body you could find to help soothe the ache. Far too busy to fix the crooked lenses.

Gojo looked at you with the same look on his face he makes when he discovers something new he likes. A new flavor of candy, a song he liked the melody of- and now, the pretty whimpers leaving your lips, all topped off with your fogged, crooked glasses- only accentuating the fucked out expression you had.

And when he rolled off of you, looking at your lazy hand, reach up to the frame and pull them off, your lashes wet with salty water and your cheeks still warm to the touch.

Satoru made sure to ask you properly to keep them on next time- on his knees with his head bowed as though he was asking some colossal favor from you.

You would only furrow your eyebrows with a slight grimace- knowing of all the strange things he could ask of you, this one was probably the most tame one.

Suguru Geto

Suguru starts off so sweet with you- brings them to you freshly cleaned whenever he sees you without them. Lightly scolding you- “You’ll only get blinder if you don’t wear them.” he would say- sliding the legs behind your ears and making sure you had them on properly.

He only found it even cuter when you would squint at something- unable to see correctly without them on.

When it came to intimacy;

Geto made the discovery of your glasses being a turn on from the first few times he saw them fog up and slightly tilt to the side as he pounded them off.

But- there was one thing Suguru did that was the slightest bit annoying. Sure, you could deal with his incessant words- urging you that it was fine and you didn’t have to take them off. Or when you would reach to remove them Suguru would replace your hands and push them back up on your nose for you.

How desperation fills your movements when you take them off- tossing them to god knows where before connecting your lips to his again.

Unable to stand the little nudges the plastic made against Suguru, only seeing your glasses as an obstacle in the way of kissing him properly.

Leading to finding the frames in the most strange of places- and most of all, once or twice finding them broken, bent- or even with a lens popped out, nowhere in sight.

Or when you’d be in public and you’d look at him over the top of them- raising your brows with a questioning look on your face- it only reminded him when you would be giving him head and do the same thing.

He tries not to make a mess on them- he tries his hardest to cum in your throat or on his tummy. But it’s almost like his cock and brain rewire at the last second and aim his cockhead for the glass.

And Suguru’s thing for you in glasses was only intensified when you popped his cock from your lips- rubbing his shaft on your cheek with a fucked out smile. And his tip- nudging against the very bottom of your frames with every little stroke your hand made on his shaft.

And when he finally spurt his mess- your lips parted and waited for Geto to take his aim. Hot spurts of white landing on your cheeks, your nose, your lips- but most of it was on the glass you used to see.

What Suguru found most endearing- was when you would only smile and lick as much as you could from your lips. Not even complaining about his shitty aim.

In the end it was just glass that could be replaced had you really wanted to.

Toji Zenin

Toji swears he didn’t even notice you had them- he tried to convince you he had never noticed you needed glass to see.

But he would do this thing- this particular thing that you had never noticed before.

Be it when you’d be speaking- not noticing how his eyes would tighten, fixating on the little crook at the edge of your frames.

Reaching a hand out and pushing them to sit correctly on the bridge of your nose.

He had done it far too many times for you to ask what he was doing or why- so used to seeing his hand reach out to you that you never questioned it.

Toji also had this urge when it came to intimacy- and you were always too fucked out to notice his little habit during sex.

When you were on your back, your eyes closed and lightly covered by fog on the glass. The frames slightly tilted to one side as his eyes looked at your expression. His hand would go up to your face with an indulgent smile on his lips.

Fixing the little crook of your glasses before enjoying the sight before him again.

And when you were on all fours- Toji was thankful to have a mirror in front of you, piercing eyes watching the frames dare to fall off with every powerful thrust he made against your bottom.

Almost like he enjoyed watching them slip off- something about your fucked out expression adorned with a pair of crooked glasses, scratched at an itch in his brain he didn’t even know was there.

Toji had never realized this before you—he didn’t know if it was you specifically or glasses in general.

You always saw it as Toji showing his tenderness towards you- even if you were too busy focusing on other things to notice the little habit.

It didn’t click in his mind till one day he was listening to you speak- far too tangled in his own thoughts trying to figure out what it was precisely.

And then he thought back to the sight of you in the mirror. The look of complete and utter dissolution, as though you had finally let loose and released tension, that’s what he found satisfying.

Associating glasses with some kind of intelligence- even if you weren’t the brightest crayon in the box at times. The frames made you look the tiniest bit more intelligent. Like you were well-read.

And when he would fuck them right off of you- it seemed like he was fucking out any unnecessary fun fact you harbored in your brain.

With every roll of his hips- he would fuck you dumb, and continue till you were a blabbering mess, unable to see the satisfied look on his face in the mirror when they would fall off.

Kento Nanami

Out of all the men- Kento would be the most respectful of your glasses.

Not as though they were some kind of out of the ordinary trait you had than nobody else did. You just needed a little help to see is all.

But Nanami would be lying had he said that the sight of you pushing your glasses up your head like a headband didn’t make something in him twitch.

Be it how your eyes glimmer without the glass blocking them or how effortlessly radiant you look when you look at him without them.

Or when you would crawl between his legs and nudge the book he was reading to the side. Pressing the side of your face on his tummy and watching the frames move from the smush of your cheek.

When he would roll over in the mornings and see your uncovered face. The bridge of your nose undented from the nose pads and the little creases of your eyes on full display so early in the morning.

What he hated most was how the glass hid your eyes- even if they were clear. A glare here or there or a smudge would make your eyelashes go overlooked.

Nanami understood that you needed them- that there was nothing he could do about it. He still liked looking at you with them on- but not as much as he liked seeing you without them.

It was still you behind the glasses, after all.

But when you would ask him to wait a moment- his hands wandering and gripping at any exposed skin they could find. His hips rested between your thighs. You would reach your hand from his hair- removing the glasses and placing them on your night table.

Wasting no time in connecting your lips with his again. Mumbling that you wanted to see him with your bare eyes between every breath of air he took.

This only gave Nanami the opportunity to keep his chest pressed against you- keeping his lips near yours. Even if they were not locked anymore, a mere millimeter from each other as you looked into his eyes.

Your request for looking upon him without assistance was heard. He made sure to stay as close as possible so you could see what you desired.

The light blush that roamed down his cheeks, every furrow his brows would make. And feel every exhale he would make tingle your skin before locking your lips again.

Lazy and unpatterned, not even bothering to close your eyes as his tongue swirled against yours.

As much as Kento liked your glasses- he much preferred you like this. No struggle in squinting just to see him. Being more than close enough for your bare vision to see his expression entirely.

Choso Kamo

Choso is sooooo sweet when it comes to your glasses.

Seeing you gasp whenever they’d slip off the nightstand, far too scared for them to break and not be able to buy new ones to contain the winces.

Or how you’d take them off occasionally and wipe the lenses whenever they smudge.

Even if you never mentioned it, Choso noticed the care you had for the frames.

So when you would ask him to pass them to you- he would make sure to grab the legs or the little bridge. Mimicking the way your fingers are always avoidant of the glass.

Or when he would notice a minor blot on the glasses before you could. Taking them off of you and swiping away any debris you had yet to see.

Choso had the decency to push your glasses up to the top of your head before he kissed you- knowing he could be needy and could end up damaging them had he not been careful.

And Choso never liked holding back how he felt when it came to you- so instead of that, he would move the precious item away and kiss you with all the urgency that buzzed in his insides.

When they would be at the top opf your head, almost moving too eager, they would slip down and lightly hit his nose. He would gruff softly- nearly irritated that the pair of glasses were trying to cockblock him right now.

Choso would gently take them off of you before folding them- placing them on a flat surface with a sprinkle of urge in his movements before connecting his lips to yours.

And in the mornings, he would always like watching your eyes open- a little squint forming on your eyes when you would wake. Little to no hesitation in giving you your glasses to see him clearly.

Kiyotaka Ijichi

You had always found it rather tedious that Ijichi insisted on kissing you with his glasses on- yours clashing with his were bound to cause scratches on both of your frames.

You always took yours off before he did his; muttering about how he wanted to see you clearly when things got heated.

But something about how he would look- so flushed and on the brink of whimpering. So easily flustered and tight in his slacks from a few sloppy kisses.

Even more so when he would clear his throat and adjust the little frames as you took yours off. As though this was some kind of business deal for which he had to stay composed.

Even during intimacy, he would keep them on- fogged up and bordering on falling- and yet Ijichi still insisted on keeping them on.

And the next chance you got- you pulled away and saw him with the little frames. His cheeks blushed red with a growing fog at the bottom of them. You couldn’t help but smile.

Pushing up the bridge of your own glasses and raising a hand to the black legs of his frames. “It’s my turn to see you.” you mumbled, pulling them off and staying close enough for him to see you.

That what taking off his glasses meant only gave you more reason to stay close to him and not dare pull away.

Ijichi got even more flushed, if that was possible- being able to feel your 20/20 vision gaze on his skin whenever you would scan over his body. Suddenly, all too aware of how it must have felt for you when you took your own glasses off in these moments.

He wondered if it ever felt as piercing for you as it did for him. Or even as half as vulturous as your eyes went low- the starved smile on your lips only adding to it.

(a.n) my most recent regret is not buying 'cum lube' and instead buying the regular lube. SIGH.

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kaciidubs · 3 months

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Cuteness Aggression

❣ Summary: Jeongin really brings out the cuteness aggression in people. ❣ ❣ Word Count: 915 ❣ Warnings: Poly!OT8 implied - Jeongin, Felix, and Hyunjin focused, fluff, slice of life, lighthearted teasing, slightly suggestive toward the end if you squint ❣ ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣ ❣ Additional Tags: Jeongin is referred to as Innie, IN-ah, Baby Bread, and Baby, Felix is referred to as pretty boy, Hyunjin is referred to as Hyune, Reader is referred to as Noona and Sunflower, something short to break myself out of this writing slump ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

“IN-ah!”

“No!”

“Baby bread!”

“Ah- Stop!”

“Our Innie!”

“Stop it! Noona!”

You sighed at the sound of various footsteps advancing toward the kitchen and effectively bursting your bubble of attempting to figure out what to make for lunch.

It wasn’t long until the once empty kitchen was filled with three men, one of whom b-lining it straight for you.

“Noona, tell them to stop!” Jeongin whined, turning you away from the cabinets and attaching himself to your back like a koala, hand wrapping around your middle for further protection.

“Innie, I would love to, but I don’t even know what’s going on.” Patting his forearm lightly, you peered at the two culprits in front of you, “What’s happening here?”

“They won’t leave me alone!”

“We’re not even doing anything,” Felix beamed, though the mischief twinkling in his eyes said otherwise, “we’re just saying how cute he is!”

Hyunjin hummed along, a teasing smirk on his lips, “Our cute little baby!”

“You’re being annoying!” Huffing, Jeongin tightened his arms around you, “Felix keeps pinching my face and Hyunjin Hyung won’t stop invading my personal space - he even sniffed me!”

“It’s not my fault you smell good, you should take it as a compliment, IN-ah.”

The youngest gasped incredulously, “Oh, really? And you trying to crush me with your body weight is a compliment too?”

“Exactly! See, you’re finally catching on!”

“You’re so-”

“Okay, okay, can we not yell at each other while I’m being used as a human shield?” Quieting your lovers, you stared at the shameless duo before you, “Can you two please give Innie his space? I’m sure he knows how much you love him without being coddled all the time.”

“But look at him!” Felix gestured to the man behind you, lips pouted and pleading, “Sunshine, he’s too cute to be left alone - you know that feeling you get when you see something so adorable you can’t help but react?”

Everything suddenly clicked, and you pressed your lips together to suppress the laugh bubbling up within you.

“So… You’re telling me this is all because of cuteness aggression?”

“Yes! You see it, too, right?!” Hyunjin’s eyes sparkled as he threw his hands up, “So it’s obviously not my fault for wanting to squeeze him until he pops!”

“I mean…” Trailing off, you caught a glimpse of Jeongin’s doughy cheek and you felt a familiar swell of adoration and couldn’t help but smirk, “You’re not wrong, Hyune.”

“Noona?!” He all but wailed, his hold on you loosening, “You’re seriously taking their side? What about me?!”

You turned in his arms with a laugh, taking his face in your hands as you cooed, “No! Of course I’m on your side, baby, but…” Giving his face a squeeze, you felt a rush of joy at his squished, adorable features, “God- You’re just too cute for your own good, Innie! Look at you - I just wanna take a bite out of you like the little mochi you are!”

Leveling you with a nonplussed stare, he accepted his fate as Felix and Hyunjin quickly joined in with coos and pets of their own, a cherry blush turning his ears and cheeks at the influx of attention.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you hummed, relinquishing the squeeze of his face for a gentle hold of his jaw, “we do it because we love you, you know that, right? If you really do hate it, we have no problem with stopping, right?”

“Of course not!” Felix tacked on easily, brushing a few strands of honey brown hair behind Jeongin’s ear.

Hyunjin nuzzled his face against the side of his head, earning a groan of disdain in the process, “You know we would stop, Innie, just let us know.”

The maknae couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips, huffing out a deep sigh, “It’s not that bad I guess… But I still don’t like the fact that you took their side, Noona.”

“Aw,” pouting up at him, you leaned up to press a gentle kiss to his lips, “I’ll make it up to you-” Clocking the glimmer in his eyes, you held your finger up, “-after I figure out what to eat, okay? You guys did come in here and ruin my train of thought.”

There was a gasp of excitement before the freckled blond looked at you, “Are you ordering out? There’s a new restaurant I’ve been dying to try since last week, and their menu looks amazing - I’ll buy!”

You grinned, nodding happily, “Alright, let’s see that menu, pretty boy.”

As he brought up the restaurant on his phone - with an equally eager Hyunjin now hanging around his shoulders - you turned your attention back to the man still in your hold, his body visibly relaxed with the decrease of hands on him.

His gaze was soft, observant as it switched from his boyfriends to you, a light caress of confusion tainting his features once he caught your awe-filled eyes. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing… You just have a real talent for being too adorable for your own good - even when you’re doing literally nothing.” Poking his nose, you shrugged lightly, “I can see why none of us can keep our hands off of you.”

Jeongin blinked at you for a moment before nodding in understanding, “Okay, I get it,” tightening his arms around your waist, a smug smirk pulled at his lips, “but when I get the same feeling from you, remember where I got it from when I’m all over you.”

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @maximumkillshot, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @specialstay, @s00buwu, @tinyelfperson, @jj-stay, @katsukis1wife, @inlovewithmusician, @keen-li, @armystay89, @main-character0, @vampcharxter, @ddyskz, @prettymiye0n, @bbgnyx, @ivyisnotokay, @bahng-chrizz, @milknhoneyracha, @hann1bee, @palindrome969, @newhope8, @softkissfelix, @luvyev, @luminouskalopsia, @kpopsstuffs, @luvyev, @starquokka, @wolfs-howling, @broken-glowsticks, @j-onedrabbles, @dawninnie, @junglyric, @piercedddriver, @sometimesleeknows, @laylasbunbunny, @dwaekkistar, @zaethefangirl

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

#skz fluff #stray kids fluff #Poly!SKZ #yang jeongin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #lee felix x reader #yang jeongin fluff #hwang hyunjin fluff #lee felix fluff

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samwhump · 1 month

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a (very inexhaustive, wincest-heavy) sam whump reclist

@transfemmesam asked me for Sam whump recs a few days ago, and I've had other requests in the same vein before (I can't imagine why.../s) so I thought I would throw this together, since these authors deserve all of the love and support for their contributions to our li'l fandom corner.

like I mentioned in the title, this is not at all a comprehensive list; I have at least ~200 more fics in my to-read queue that could thematically fit here, but alas, I have stupid shit like a job and a body and a dog to take care of, so. I'm always happy to get recs along these lines, so if you notice anything important missing, hit me UP. (and don't take any omissions as any specific commentary by me -- it's likely I just haven't had the chance to read it yet, haha.)

disclaimers:

some (most, honestly) of these contain potentially triggering and dark content, including but not limited to rape/noncon, torture, and suicidal attempts & ideation. I have tried to note content warnings where applicable, and most of the works are hosted on ao3, so the tags should have most of the information you need to make an informed decision. that being said, tread with caution. all of the summaries provided are from the original author, with warnings added after by me.

the list is in alphabetical order and separated into wincest and gen categories. a lot of the gen is also focused on the sam & dean relationship, because...I am what I am. and what I am a sucker for these two dipshits. there is also a brief section at the end with a few fics that don't fit into either category.

gen

All That Goes Unspoken by amnesiawife:

A case forces Sam to confront something long kept buried. (Set nebulously in season 12.)

CW: discussions of past rape/noncon, victim blaming

Beneath the Trees 'verse by Lise (5 works total, starting with Beneath the Trees, Where Nobody Sees):

Sam doesn't go to Stanford. Everything goes downhill from there.

CW: suicidal ideation

a boy is a cage by ad_castra:

After expelling Gadreel from Sam's body, Dean thinks they're in the clear. If only they were that lucky. // S9 fic wherein Gadreel's grace causes some adverse side-effects in Sam's mind.

CW: past referenced rape/noncon, body horror

body of proof by Askance (doomcountry):

There are things Sam hasn't told his brother. They're all in the envelope laid on Dean's pillow.

CW: heavy discussion of past rape/noncon

break these bones 'til they're better by redskyatmorning:

After Sam’s torture at the hands of the British Men of Letters, the latest in a long string of violations, he is rescued by Dean and Mary – and forced to ponder his broken relationship with his own body. Months later, when Sam is resurrected and tormented by Lucifer yet again, Dean confronts Mary and Sam gets his revenge against the devil.

catching my death (staring out an open window) by ad_castra:

Sam gazes at the window, catches the faint pink hue tinting the sky. It’s so realistic - he could breathe in the fresh air if he were really here. ----- They got Sam out. Sometimes, just knowing that isn't enough.

CW: implied past rape/noncon

Death of Convenience by WilsonTheMoose:

It should have been easy. Wendigos are no joke but daylight slows them. The weather's been unpredictable though and perfect, idyllic hunts don't exactly stay that way where they're concerned. Or Sam has one card to play and never stops to think that Dean would care if he killed himself.

CW: suicidal ideation, references to suicide

Echoes of Hell by The_Nightbreaker:

It wasn't real. He wasn't in Hell anymore. That's what he tried to tell himself over and over. But two centuries of torture don't disappear in a day. Sam struggles with visions of Hell, fighting to maintain his grip on reality. Dean hates that he can't protect his brother from what isn't real—but curse him if he doesn't try. When the boys stumble on a case with ties to the Devil himself, will they be able to pull themselves together in time to stop the sacrifices? Or will the echoes of Hell finally overtake them? Aka, season 7, but the plot is Hell trauma, not leviathans.

CW: suicidal ideation

Evening Shadows by withthekeyisking:

Sam is hallucinating the monster who tortured him for nearly two centuries, Dean feels like he's failing his brother, and a diner waitress bears witness.

CW: past rape/noncon

Everything Dies Given Time by Lise:

AU from 5.03. Sam discovers something wrong with himself, and learns to live with it. Only a lot less functional.

CW: suicide/temporary character death

The Freedom to Be Loud by jribbing:

It hadn’t occurred to Dean that maybe Sam remembered so much about that little nowhere town because something memorable had happened there.

CW: referenced past rape/noncon

golgotha by redskyatmorning:

There’s a vacancy on the throne of hell, and Sam is desperate enough to save Dean from Michael’s possession to give into the abyssal depths of his own darkness.

Head Space by ameliacareful:

A witch curses Sam leaving him blind, deaf, and bedridden. Left with only the inside of his own head and the occasional touch, Sam begins to unravel.

CW: suicidal ideation

Hiraeth by inkandpaperqwerty:

(n.) a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past "Dean... I made a really big mistake." For a second, Dean actually thought things were going okay. He was out of Hell, Sam agreed to stop drinking demon blood, they had just wrapped up a successful hunt... for once, everything was okay. And then it wasn't. "I overdosed." Not at all.

CW: suicide attempts, suicidal ideation

if i could leave (i would've already left) by serendipity0930:

“I have a mission from God for you,” the Angel whispers to the man. “It is time for you to do what you were born to.” The man’s face twists into a smile, delighted over being chosen by Him, a purpose from God digging into his heart, carving out a place to fester. “Hunt.” ... 05x03 AU where Zachariah is even more determined to keep the brothers apart and hunters are all too willing to take Lucifer's True Vessel off the board for good

CW: referenced suicide

It's A River (But Not In Egypt) by Lise:

He's still a liar. Maybe always has been.

CW: toxic Sam/Lucifer dynamics

Kindred Instruments by PinBitch:

They’re in a tug of war and Sam is the rope. He doesn’t need to be alive for that. OR Sam dies in detox, being flung against the walls of a metal box will do that to you. Dean and Ruby pick up the pieces.

CW: temporary main character death, permanent supporting character death

lazarus trick by katsidhe:

Sam's alive, so everything is gonna be okay. 13.22 coda.

Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence by Lise:

Sam's back. He's in one piece. That's the problem.

CW: self-harm

love is like ghosts by redskyatmorning:

I’m poison, Dean had said instead of I’m sorry. Well, Sam wants to say, what does that make me? What the hell does that make me? (A look into Sam's mind in the aftermath of the Gadreel possession.)

The Other Brother by RadioFriday:

Sam and Adam are pulled from the cage at the same time. Sam is not right, and Adam, stuck as his caretaker, is not pleased.

Oxygen by inkandpaperqwerty:

“Cas! Cas, please! Please, answer me! Cas!” Castiel ignores Dean for several minutes, but then Dean gives him an opening that might help him complete his mission. So, he goes to investigate, and what he finds is a very bloody, nearly dead Sam. Dean tells him where the injuries came from, and Castiel quickly becomes confused. It doesn't make sense, but Dean tries to explain it to him, and slowly... Castiel begins to understand.

CW: suicide attempt

Post Hoc, Ergo Propter Hoc by AmberSock:

Sam waits, kneeling, for his execution. What if Dean hadn't missed?

CW: temporary character death

Safety In Distance by GalaxyThreads and SpiritClusters:

The Mark of Cain is a brand of violence. Sam was an idiot to think that he'd be exempt from it, just because he and Dean are siblings.

sometimes a kind of singing by adi_rotynd:

Sam gets cursed. They're dealing with it. Jack can see souls. That one they're not dealing with quite as well.

CW: past referenced rape/noncon

Soul Windows by GalaxyThreads and Spirit Clusters:

A few months after his birth, Jack learns how to see souls. Then he comes to a realization about the Winchester brothers, Sam in particular, and it's not a pleasant one. (gen)

Starry Night by keepcalmsmile:

Sam attempts suicide-by-monster. Dean tries to help. It sort of works...until it doesn't.

CW: suicide attempts, suicidal ideation

such fragile, broken things by The_Bookkeeper:

Sam wishes that Dean would just get it over with already.

The Tale of Sir Galahad by keepcalmsmile:

Sam once said he could never be clean like Sir Galahad. Dean assumed he was just talking about the demon blood. Turns out, Sam was talking about something else too. WARNING: Extended discussions of the aftermath of rape and childhood sexual abuse (but NO description of the actual events). Happy(ish) ending, but potentially very triggering.

CW: past rape/noncon, mentioned CSA

They Hammered in His Teeth by jribbing:

Sam has a secret.

CW: suicidal ideation

today's troubles (are history tomorrow) by a_good_soldier:

"It's not really something I know how to share," Sam had said. In which Dean figures he ought to help Sam out a bit.

Touch and Go by themegalosaurus:

Tag to 9.19 (Alex Annie Alexis Ann) in which Dean realises why, exactly, Sam is so angry about what happened with Gadreel.

trust fall by ad_castra:

“I’m nothing like you,” Sam hisses. Nevermind relating to the anguish of going it alone. Nevermind that he knows what it is to be strapped down and forcibly cleansed against his will. Sam wonders if these trials are purifying Crowley as well.

Words Like Glass by broken_cinders:

Dean never figured the cage wouldn't leave a mark. He was prepared for memories, flashbacks, and nightmares. He wasn't expecting the words Sam brought back with him or the way they made him seem just a breath beyond Dean's reach.

Wound and Unwound by fascra:

Sam stops eating spring of his freshman year.

CW: eating disorder

wincest (dean/sam)

Brittle by thecapn:

Sam Winchester has an eating disorder.

CW: eating disorder

Don't You Cry No More by sixtysevenlmpala (schittyfic):

The first time Sam gets badly hurt on a hunt, he doesn’t cry. Dean does.

Fall On Your Knees by dollylux:

Sam doesn't quite make it home on the last day of school before winter break.

The Fall Will Probably Kill You by killabeez:

Set between 7.04 and the aftermath of 7.07. Dean is not as okay as he'd like you to think. Neither is Sam.

CW: self-harm

Feels so good to feel again by Trojie:

The pain keeps Lucifer at bay, at least to start with.

Follow In Your Form by withthekeyisking:

Sam is hallucinating Lucifer in the wake of Cas bringing his Hell Wall crashing down. To make matters worse, it seems like this has his dormant powers flaring back to life.

Last Temptation by merle_p:

Sam is running a fever again, the kind of fever no Ibuprofen or cold compress will bring down, the kind of fever that is eating him up alive, eviscerating him from the inside. He is too hot and too cold and too pale, delirious and shaking, resonating with whatever divine energy the trials are subjecting him to, and Dean is not sure how much longer he can stand to see him be in this state. Because Sam is quite possibly dying, and there is nothing Dean can do to stop it. Because Sam is dying, and he just. Won’t. Shut. Up.

CW: mentioned past rape/noncon

leeches by Anonymous:

Sam discovers a spell to make everybody forget him. He’s convinced it’s for the best. Pre-Stanford.

CW: attempted kidnapping/torture

Make Thick My Blood by themegalosaurus:

“You’re going to kill me, Dean,” Sam says, eventually. And all Dean can say is, “I think I am.” A season 10 AU, set after 10x14 ('The Executioner's Song'). Cas finds a solution that might cure the Mark of Cain; but if they're going to go through with it, Sam has a terrible price to pay.

CW: mentioned past rape/noncon

Prophecy of an Abomination by ashitanoyuki:

Sam is kidnapped by fanatically religious hunters and crucified. Coming back from this won't be easy. Canon-divergent from midway through season 2.

Recall by De_Nugis:

Sam's having a hard time telling what's real and what isn't, especially when it comes to some voicemails from Dean.

The Room Upstairs by brokenlittleboy:

Sam comes back from hell, but he’s inside-out and all wrong, and Dean can’t fix him.

CW: mentioned past rape/noncon

Ruin You (and its companion fic Worth) by Mumble_Bee:

Cole fucks Sam with Demon!Dean watching from a devil's trap, snarling that anyone would dare touch what was his. “I told you I don’t care what you do to his face or his blood or his fucking nose,” Dean growled, “but you put your dick anywhere near him and I will end you.” “Better hurry up then, Dean, because I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

CW: explicit rape/noncon

Snowed In by HelloStarlingFics:

When working a case, Sam and Dean get stuck out in a shack in the woods when the snow comes in hard and fast. Trouble is, Sam’s hated the cold ever since the Cage. Time for Dean to step up and look after him.

Wake by minchout:

Gadreel has had Sam for four years, and Dean, lost in guilt and obsessed with finding a way to get his brother back, has isolated himself in a cabin in the Missouri Ozarks with nothing but the woods, a stray dog, some chickens, and all the books the Men of Letters had to offer to keep him company. Then Sam shows up one day without his passenger, and Dean learns quickly that it doesn't matter that Sam is with him again - there is still a lot of work to be done before they can find their way back to each other.

Wanting to Forget by morganaDW (morgana07):

1-shot. S1 fic. After getting Sam freed from the Benders Dean thinks all he has to cope with is some bruises and cuts. He learns quickly just how wrong he is when Sam wakes up with a nightmare, reliving his brief but bad captivity in every detail. Sam just wants to forget & Dean has to try to get him to let him help. Will one night of cruelty and pain ruin what’s been formed between them?

CW: referenced past rape/noncon

when I wake up I'm afraid, somebody else might take my place by quake_quiver:

Sam doesn’t remember the last time he cried for Dean like he did that night. And now it’s been…two weeks. Maybe more. Sam is tired, and in pain, and starting to doubt that Dean’s going to show up. He’s weak and shaking from a combination of constant pain and hunger. Sam longs for Dean. Dean would make it better. Dean would fix it.

CW: rape/noncon, body horror

Wire Inside Me by merle_p:

There are a lot of things Sam hates about his current condition, to the point where he sometimes feels for the gun under his pillow at night, blindly toys with the safety, imagines pressing the muzzle into the underside of his chin and pulling the trigger just to make it stop. But there’s nothing he hates as much as the shadows he sees in Dean’s eyes whenever his brother is looking at him these days. It’s not an expression he remembers ever seeing before, but Sam thinks it’s probably something like revulsion. Horror. Disgust. What else could it be.

CW: referenced past rape/noncon, body horror, forced pregnancy

Worth (and its companion fic Ruin You) by Mumble_Bee:

Episode 10x01 "Black" where Dean is a human, and very, very, pissed off to hear someone has hands on his brother. “It’s nothing personal,” Cole whispered into Sam's ear, too quietly for Dean to hear, “but I need to kill your brother, and I need him off his game when he gets here. I don’t wanna hurt you, kid, but I’m going to, anyway. I’m going to hurt you a lot."

CW: explicit rape/noncon

you'll never see us again by according2thelore:

Then finally, his eyes trail over to Dean. His pupils are pin-point thin, and his hair is straggling in his face so Dean can’t see most of what expression lies there. Sam usually wakes up from nightmares in one of three attitudes: confusion, fear, or calm. A scary, sense-prickling calm that Dean hates more than anything else. Resignation, almost. Or: Sam suffers from nightmares and touch starvation post-Cage. They do their best to deal.

other Sam/Lucifer noncon

Cage Fight (No Way To Do This Right) by Dyed_Red:

Sam’s visit to the cage is already going awry, but Dean’s one-man rescue ends up skidding it sideways into territory neither him or Sam are ready for. (Gratuitous episode scene re-write. If Cas hadn’t come till after, if he hadn’t been there yet when Dean ran down to the 'parole' cage after hearing Sam scream - how bad could it have got for the brothers before he made it?)

CW: graphic rape/noncon

Into Being by withthekeyisking:

When Sam wakes up in the cave on Apocalypse World after having been killed by vamps, it's not just to find Lucifer there with him. It's to find him in him.

CW: graphic rape/noncon, necrophilia, forced pregnancy

Reggie/Tim/Sam noncon

a pointless resistance for you by withthekeyisking:

Sam doesn't know how long he's been with Tim and Reggie by the time Dean shows up and tries to take him out of there. Long enough that's he's already lost one baby and is pregnant with the next. Long enough that this life is starting to feel like all he knows.

CW: graphic rape/noncon, forced pregnancy & miscarriage, victim blaming

screaming birds sound an awful lot like singing by withthekeyisking:

Sam has done his best to move past what Tim and Reggie did to him, pretending it never happened at all. But running into them again makes that very difficult—especially when Dean gets involved.

CW: referenced past rape/noncon

Waste 'Em All by withthekeyisking:

When Tim and Reggie try to force the demon blood down Sam's throat, he spits it back out. He has no interest in being turned into their own personal attack dog. They don't...take it well.

CW: explicit rape/noncon

#sam winchester #sam whump #supernatural #supernatural fic rec #wincest

208 notes · View notes

kentopedia · 9 months

Text

carefully, i was going to live

FEATURING. past nanami kento x f!reader, gojo satoru x reader — wc: 2.9k

SUMMARY: you and gojo realize you share the same kind of pain.

CONTENTS: shibuya arc / jjk s2 spoilers, death, grief, depression, suicidal thoughts, references to disordered eating, implied satosugu, platonic gojo x reader, anger, angst, gojo isn’t sealed

note: reader & gojo’s relationship for the future is up to your interpretation. title is from a mitski song <3

The world was bleak outside your window.

With November came the death of all things beautiful. The trees grew barren, flowers wilted into dreary puddles, the sky turned a muddy shade of grey, and your house transformed into a tomb.

It was almost evening now. The streets were busy with people commuting home from work, children skipping along sidewalks after a tedious day at school. Each expression became the epitome of human nature, and through all their ups and downs, there they stood, alive.

You blinked at the scene, just enough to wet your eyes, trying to ignore the spiteful hatred that bubbled up in you against cheerful strangers.

When the women had a smile on their faces, your mind easily morphed them into miserable frowns, weaved a story of how their partners treated them terribly. Children’s loud giggles turned into wretched cries, sobs from spoiled complaints of not getting their way. Men’s casual conversations on their cell phones became a long-winded rant of how their job was slowly destroying them.

There wasn’t anything left for you in the world but misery. It should only be fair that other people received the same.

Perhaps that was an evil thought, but you didn’t care. The bed was cold, and it had started to smell of something awful from the sheets that housed your own grime and sweat. You shivered, bundling yourself up in the blankets more.

An ache increased in your stomach before it grumbled, breaking the silence. Though, it suppressed its own pleas, knowing better than to suspect sustenance after so many evenings of emptiness. Over and over, you ignored your hunger, a part of you hoping that your body would begin to devour itself from the inside out.

Perhaps, then, you’d finally achieve the peace that you’d been longing for.

From the world inside your mind, Kento scolded you, begged you to pull yourself out of the darkness that you’d crawled into. He’d be unhappy, that much was certain. One look at your unkempt hair would put a crease between his eyebrows. He’d recoil at the piled trash that you’d been too exhausted to take out.

Still, you knew better than to believe he’d be anything but kind about it. Stern, maybe, but uncompromising words would never leave his lips without soft eyes and a sad smile.

You swallowed down the nausea that erupted from within you, and buried yourself deeper into the pillow, wishing the couple in the distance would cease their affectionate embrace.

A tear collected on your lash line.

For a moment, you let yourself fall into the painful peace of delusion. A phantom touch rested on your skin, comforting fingertips dancing along your hip. Kento Nanami’s love pressed into every subtle graze. Please. Let me help you.

His voice was raspy, unfamiliar, and you wondered if you were starting to forget the sound of it, the exact inflection of his words, even though you listened to his painfully short inbox message every day, replayed the voicemails he left you more often than music.

A dry sob forced its way up, though no sound released as you squeezed Kento’s pillow tighter, digging your nose into the cotton. You were desperate for his lingering scent, but it had been two weeks since he’d been killed, and there was nothing left of him.

Still, you sprayed his old cologne on every surface, left everything as he had, and pretended that he was still around.

Grief hugged you tight, trying to embody the embrace that Kento had once given you. You didn’t hear the knock at your front door, muffled from two rooms away and the constant swirl of your heartbroken musings.

No one had visited you in two weeks. Itadori had tried, but you’d screamed far too cruelly at him, even though he was just a kid, and none of this was his fault. The list of guests had been shortened since then.

You didn’t blame them.

Someone said your name, though it was distant, and it was easy to chalk it up to your imagination. Though, the plea became a whisper through a grisly storm, then a scream over the fierce winds in an attempt to reach you.

You opened your eyes, shifting to face the noise.

Satoru Gojo stood at the edge of your bed, his large frame towering over you with every ounce of power he’d been born with, his slack jaw unable to hide his horror at the mess you’d made of yourself. Blindfolded eyes flicked across the room, then, his lips curled into a grimace.

“You’ve been ignoring my calls,” he said. Another sound but your own breath was so unnatural in the stale room. It took you far too long to understand him.

You blinked back once, before rolling over to return your attention to the window once more, the scene beyond it still playing like a television series. Kento had always hated that your bedroom had a view of the city, some illusion of privacy gone now that he could see the world outside. Though, it was the only thing you could be grateful for now, as that square panel of glass became your salvation.

“Sorry.” Your voice was hoarse, raspy. You weren’t sure when you’d used it last. “Phone’s dead.” It had been for days. The slender device rested useless on your nightstand, and you wondered how many people had died since Kento; jujutsu sorcerers didn’t stop fighting just because you had.

Gojo shuffled around the room. You peered over your shoulder to see him sliding the charger into your phone, the screen lighting up later with a bright logo and a ding.

“Everyone’s been calling.” His back was to you, muscles taut with exhaustion and strain. “There aren’t enough sorcerers. We’ve lost so many people.”

You tensed and considered blocking your ears, humming a song like a petulant child. No part of you wanted to hear about Jujutsu. Satoru Gojo could manage on his own, and you didn’t give a damn about saving the world anymore.

“I can’t help you,” you said, realizing just how true that was. There wasn’t an ounce of energy within your body.

Though you had let yourself rot, you had grand plans of finding a curse you could never defeat. You would never be strong enough in your current state, and that was alright. You just wanted to go out with some semblance of a purpose, as Kento had. Maybe that way, it wouldn’t feel so much like a suicide.

“I know,” Gojo sighed, and you waited a minute before he spoke again. “That’s not why I came.”

You breathed; the process was no longer subconscious. “Then why are you here?”

Gojo came around the bed to stand in front of you once more, so close that he blocked your view of the window. His icy irises had been revealed, somehow warning you just how serious he was about this intervention.

The laugh you couldn’t muster up came out in a shaky exhale. You weren’t scared of Gojo, and you certainly weren’t impressed by him enough to listen to whatever wisdom he wanted to bestow upon you.

“I just want to help my old friend.” A twinge of pity in his voice irritated you, even though it was warranted. The scene before him couldn’t evoke any sort of emotion except for pathetic despair. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“No.” Your muscles were weak as you maneuvered your shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “I just don’t care. Not even Satoru Gojo can fix everything. I thought you’ve learned that by now.” It was cruel, you knew that, but you spat the words without regret, rolling onto your back.

The stiffness in your hips alleviated, and finally, he couldn’t pin you with his gaze. You could only imagine the way he’d flinched at your comment, wondering when the shy, sweet girl from his youth had become such a bitter woman.

Your eyes glued to the ceiling, and you imagined Kento there beside you, staring at you with a wistful smile while you merely blinked up at the white walls.

Gojo said your name again. Then he was tugging on your arm, and the clench around your heart unfurled, bringing you away from the desperate fantasy.

“Look at me,” Gojo said, and his words were harsher, exasperated, and you realized he’d been talking this entire time, minutes of one-sided conversation flowing in one ear and out the other.

“No, Satoru,” you growled, trying to resist, even though you didn’t have the strength. He pulled you to a seated position easily, forcing you to look at him once more, and never let go of your wrist. “Get out of my house.”

“Not until you talk to me.”

“Get out.”

“No.” Satoru stared at you, his eyes cold and unflinching, and for a moment, you realized just how fearsome he could be, why so many curses looked him in the eye and remembered that they didn’t stand a chance. Then, he blinked, and that image was gone, left with the picture of a broken man who had lost too many friends, and was trying not to lose you too. “You won’t talk to anyone; you won’t see anyone. You’re destroying yourself like this. I won’t let it go on any longer.”

The sympathy and disappointment in his voice disgusted you, and you recoiled with a renewed strength, slapping his hand away. “I don’t care if you want to be a hero now. You couldn’t help Kento, and you can’t help me. What good is being the strongest if you can’t even save the people that you care about?”

Gojo tensed, his jaw clenching like you’d slapped him across the face. That, at least, gave you some sort of satisfaction, even if it only lasted for a moment. A twinge of regret started, burning brighter and brighter until the weight of your comment came down on you.

There was a point to being angry at the world, to projecting your suffering onto strangers. They would never bear witness to every ounce of your misery. But Gojo had known you since you were a child, had cared about Kento too, and you were treating him no better than the curses that had killed the man you loved.

“Fine,” Gojo said more tersely. “I can’t help you. You have to want to help yourself, too.” He raked a hand across his face, revealing dark, purple circles, and sallow skin. The two of you were an ugly picture—the perfect personification of every struggle a jujutsu sorcerer could experience. “I just thought you’d want to know you still have a friend. Nanami and Haibara may be gone, and…” He looked away, mouth pulling down further. “Suguru, but I’m still here, you know?”

You swallowed, even though your lips were too parched to produce any saliva. They were cottony and stuck together as you spoke. “Don’t come back here, Gojo.” Though you swayed, lightheaded, you didn’t lay back down, only curled your knees into your chest, feeling small. “I don’t want to be a sorcerer anymore. I don’t want to remember any of it.”

Gojo hesitated, disappointed that his previous comment hadn’t hit as hard as he’d intended.

“What will you do, then?” he asked, his hands helplessly dangling by his side before he moved to sit beside you.

“Nothing.” The word felt like a punishment to say, even when that’s all you’d been doing, for days. Your life meant nothing anymore, so there was no point in trying. “I’ll forget I ever loved Kento Nanami and then I’ll disappear.”

Gojo’s face turned, his eyes narrowing, lips curling down. “No, you won’t.”

You almost came back with a childish retort—but it no longer seemed worth it. You turned back towards the window, wondering if it would rain soon. The sky looked like it might.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re the only person still alive who knew Nanami exactly as he was. There are people out there who cared enough about the both of you to not let you throw that all away.”

Guilt gnawed at you. Kento may not have ever respected Gojo for his decisions as a sorcerer, but deep down, he’d always known that he was a good man who tried to do right by everyone.

“What am I supposed to do, then?” you said, quietly at first, swallowing back the heavy emotions that weighed on you. Satoru watched you, never interrupting, though your pause was long and burdened. “I just want it to stop. It hurts so much, Satoru.”

“I know.”

“Everyone moved on like Shibuya never happened.” You twirled the ring around your finger as the heavy tears returned, ones that you’d thought had long been expelled. It seemed impossible that someone should be able to cry without end, yet, your grief was unrelenting, and your cheeks grew wet once more. “Everyone kept going, and I can’t do that. I can’t pretend like I didn’t lose my entire future. I’m never going to get married, Satoru. I’ll never be able to—”

You stopped, choked by your own emotions as a lump rose in your throat, sour like bile. It was the first time you’d said the words out loud. They tasted worse than they felt in your mind. You’d never be able to call Kento Nanami your husband.

Gojo’s eyes softened, and though he reached for you, you flinched away, swallowing over and over to bury your tears. Heaving breaths came, unsteady.

“Nanami wouldn’t want this for you.” It was cruel, too close to mockery to make you feel anything but anger.

You already knew that you were disappointing the man who loved you with every fiber of his being. The sight of you so weakened would wreck Kento, but you couldn’t get yourself to move out of the house. Not even when your skin yearned for a ray of sunlight, or your body screamed for something other than the stale convenience store snacks.

“Don’t say that. Kento’s not here anymore.” His name came out choked on your lips, the first time you’d said it since screaming it in misery. The word didn’t feel so much like love anymore. It was sorrow, wrapped into two tiny syllables. “What he’d want doesn’t matter.”

Satoru lowered his voice, treating you as fragile as you’d become, uncertain how to speak to someone who would never want to listen. “It does matter. He loved you so much.”

You covered your ears, squeezed your eyes shut. “Satoru, please. Stop it.”

“He’d want you to be happy—”

“I don’t care.” You spoke over his ramblings and pushed him away until you were certain he’d fall off the bed. Though, it did nothing to move him, strong and steadfast Satoru Gojo who would never be toppled. “You just don’t understand. I replay it over and over in my head, wondering why I wasn’t there, why you weren’t there.” You dropped your head in your hands, breathing into your palms like a paper bag. “It’s not fair.”

“Nothing’s fair.” Satoru said, the age-old cliché, a hand hesitant on your wrist. He was quiet when he said your name again. “I know how you feel.”

“No you don’t.” You slapped him away, even when he held strong, even when he let you see the anguish he usually hid away, let it erase the warmth from his expression.

You remembered dark long hair, kind brown eyes, a young man who had once held such a promising future. Two best friends that perhaps had been more, never sharing the secrets of their ill-fated bond.

“No, you don’t.”

Gojo was scooting closer, pulling you into his arms, the embrace tight, protective.

He was serious and sullen in a way that you hadn’t seen since Geto died. Gojo was a master at veiling his emotions in laughter, but it seemed now that your own emptiness was reflected back at you, the sheer desire to stop existing all at once.

“I know it better than anyone.” Nothing more than a whisper. The tears were too heavy and hot; there was nothing you could do to stop them. “You’re not alone.”

You were quiet for a moment, then another, before everything that you’d been feeling for the past two weeks crashed upon you like a wave, drowning you, and you were unable to breathe, clinging to Gojo like he was the only thing holding you above water.

You’d known Kento for ten years. You’d been strangers, friends, lovers parted by death before either of you had turned thirty, and though you weren’t the only person who had lost someone in Shibuya, you felt like the only one who was too weak to recover from it.

“Satoru.” Your voice broke. “I don’t know how to live without him.”

Gojo smiled. “You find a way.” Said so confidently, a man who’d been through it all before, and your heart shattered with sobs that came out uncontrollably, soaking Satoru’s shoulder.

Desperately, you clawed at his back, wishing you could wear his skin as a protective shield, could tear his heart out of his chest and trade it for your own, if only to gain an ounce of his strength. He held you tight in his arms, but nothing about him was the same, right down to the very blue eyes that had lost all their arrogance. Both had dimmed, and even the infinity within them seemed to end.

He didn’t smell like Kento, didn’t feel like Kento—but no one else had comforted you since he’d died, so you let him. Satoru kissed your forehead with an affection you’d already forgotten, reminding you to move on.

You never would.

736 notes · View notes

yanderes-galore · 8 months

Note

Can I ask for a yandere platonic injustice Superman and Batman with vigilante reader that doesn't want to be part of any sides

Sure! I'll talk a little about them :) This could go for either platonic or romantic but it leaned more towards platonic for you. Only their motive would change if they were romantic. This felt too tame for me but this was mostly me commenting on generally how things could go.

Yandere! Platonic! Superman vs Yandere! Platonic! Batman

(INJUSTICE)

Pairing: Platonic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective yanderes, Violence, Manipulation, Stalking implied, Kidnapping, Murder mention.

This is not the first time these two have been pitched against one another.

I do think this is one of the more intense times they've fought.

Both Batman and Superman are stubborn with their beliefs.

They both would want to protect their darling from the evil of the world but in different ways.

They're stubborn and oblivious to the pain they cause you.

In a way they're more alike than you'd think, just one's a god among men due to his powers.

I feel in any other world, Superman would be the one trying to be considerate.

Not in this one.

I feel what makes this worse is you're a vigilante who isn't on either side.

A neutral party if you will.

Which to them simply won't do.

In this universe these two are under the belief that they're the right side.

The fact you want nothing to do with either of them is frustrating.

It makes you an unknown party, a possible threat if the other side gets their hands on you.

You hate them both for your own reasons.

Maybe you see their argument as stupid or are upset at the destruction of Metropolis.

Either way you don't want to deal with them.

It'll only lead to more pointless fighting.

Despite how you see the situation the two sides keep a close eye on you.

I don't doubt you'll encounter other "heroes" talking to you to convince you of a certain side.

Yet you say you don't agree on Superman's dictator-like views or Batman's no kill rule.

Or something along the lines of that.

You keep saying you want nothing to do with them, that there must be a better way than all of this.

I wouldn't put it past either of them to talk to you in person to convince you or just straight up kidnap you.

Superman would be the one to murder, Batman still would not.

Their messages to you are mostly the same, that they're in the right, but it never convinces you.

What may hurt even more is you've probably met with both of them before.

It hurts to see Superman so corrupt when he was so nice before.

Batman's just grown more paranoid and delusional since you last met him and it concerns you.

You hate that they've changed, so you try to distance yourself from them.

Yet they can't handle that.

In terms of how they see you, in this concept they probably see you as an apprentice or kid, maybe even just a friend they want to be a good influence to since this is platonic.

Now that the League has been torn, they are fighting for who gets to continue associating with you, among other things.

They both would be the type who'd want to lock you away from "the evil of this world".

Batman tries to keep to his traditional ways, hiding you from Superman and caring for you like he's done before.

Superman is more aggressive than Batman, being the one who'd murder thousands if it meant he had you.

Superman believes he has to kill in order to protect you.

He needs to cleanse this world because he doesn't wish to lose you.

A fear of losing you is another trait they share.

A lot of this rivalry shows the duality of Batman and Superman.

They're very similar, it just depends on who would go further to achieve their goals.

Batman would hide you in darkness and ignore your pleas because he feels going off the grid will protect you.

He understands you'll hate him at first, but he's trying to preserve you.

Superman would lock you away but not entirely feel he has to hide you.

Any threat that would try to take you away from him would probably end up dead.

Superman doesn't mind the sight of blood if it means protecting the people he loves.

Both of them have lost people they care about.

They both want the same if not similar things for you... they want you safe and under their care.

If only they could agree with one another.

#yandere dc #yandere dc comics #yandere superman #yandere batman #yandere injustice #yandere injustice 2 #yandere injustice batman #yandere injustice superman #yandere bruce wayne

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saetoru · 2 years

Text

#𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐘, 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘!

「 SYNOPSIS 」 ⋮ kaeya and diluc don't have much in common, even if they're brothers

☰ pairing ⋮ diluc ragnvindr x reader x kaeya alberich

☰ length ⋮ 2.1k words (it was meant to be longer but i was struggling ok)

☰ contents ⋮ nsfw and 18+ content, fem! reader, cheater! reader (rip), you cheat on diluc with kaeya </3, neglectful bf! diluc, slightly lovesick! kaeya, business/modern au, NOT canon-compliant/accurate, they are implied to be biological brothers (ik kaeya was adopted but go w it), strained familial relationships, semi public sex, office sex, slight teasing, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (princess + baby), diluc walks in </3

☰ notes ⋮ cat got me to officially really play genshin finally. now i am sick over kaeya and diluc. especially diluc SOBS but i started writing this when i was more into kaeya so this is a big rip for diluc my baby </3

“you know, i’d never leave you alone in an outfit as cute as this if i were diluc,” kaeya grins, sliding his hand up your skirt, eyes glinting in amusement as he feels the wet patch on your underwear. he hums, pressing hot kisses along your neck, making you whimper at the attention.

attention. it’s funny, you think—just how much a little attention can change so quickly.

kaeya is nothing if not persistent, he has his eyes set on you one way or another—and truth be told, it’s probably the one thing he has in common with his brother. from the way they walk and talk, to the way one has crimson locks while the other sports blue, you think if you ask anyone, they’d say kaeya and diluc are the last two men anyone would expect to be brothers. they’re just too opposite, couldn’t be any more different if they tried…and something tells you they never have to try.

you’ve heard less than kind things about the blue-haired nuisance (as diluc likes to say) from your boyfriend—diluc isn’t tightly knit with his brother, and he doesn’t exactly try to hide it. he comes into your office on more than one occasion with a scowl on his face and heavy breaths heaving from his chest as he tries to calm himself down, mouth running faster than you can comprehend the words as he vents about his sibling with rather…colorful words.

but still, kaeya doesn’t seem that bad in your eyes, even despite the image your boyfriend paints of his brother. you think diluc exaggerates things sometimes. sure, kaeya is a little immature and has a track record of being a tad bit unprofessional at times, and it may be true that he has a natural gift for popping blood vessels and making your head ache with his nonsense—but kaeya is also kind under the facade.

at least, that’s what you’ve come to learn.

he brings you coffee fresh from the pot—he brews a new batch himself because he knows the longer it sits, the worse it tastes. he replaces your pens when you’ve used them through—and he even gets the fancy brand you like, even if a little costly. sometimes, you almost feel bad listening to your boyfriend vent about a guy who treats you so well.

but then again, maybe that’s why you like kaeya in the first place—he treats you so well.

when was the last time diluc came into your office seeking you out for you? when was the last time you were something other than a person to vent to? when was the last time he noticed you because he craved you?

you can’t answer the question honestly. and then there’s the fact that he’s stiff outside the office too. he’s kind, sure. he’s respectful and treats you as an equal, he swipes his credit card and gives you what you want on more than one occasion—he does it without hesitation, too. he doesn’t look at the numbers when it comes to you, which should make your heart soar…right?

but he doesn’t answer your texts on time, and he’s too busy for dates to be a regular occurrence, and he’s just so invested in inheriting the family business. it’s my job as the next in line, he always tells you with a kiss on your forehead when you’re disappointed that he’s got no time for you, someone has to pick up the slack kaeya doesn’t.

and then you’re left to wonder…maybe all the things you thought attracted you to diluc are actually every reason to choose kaeya instead.

kaeya skips meetings to hang out in your office (though he’s often a distraction) and he spams your phone with random messages (though it’s a bit obnoxious) and he never puts other things before you (though you’re sure it’s more because he simply doesn’t care for a lot of things in general.)

so now you’re here, pressed against the desk of your own boyfriend’s office, underwear soaked and pussy dripping as his brother teases your clit with the pad of his thumb.

“you’re dripping,” kaeya purs, chuckling as you whine from the barely-there friction of his finger, “and it’s all for me. ‘sn’t that something?”

“k-kaeya…diluc ’ll be here any secon—”

“you really want me to stop?” he feigns shock, fingers retreating from where you need him most in an instant.

no, you realize, you’re wrong—kaeya has a lot more in common with his brother than anyone realizes. the way they both have you ready to sob for it while barely doing anything at all is proof enough that they’re siblings.

“no!” you gasp, pushing your hips back and chasing his hand, trying to rekindle the friction—even as minimal as it is. he snickers behind you, chest pressed against your back as he kisses your neck. his hand smooths over your ass, squeezing firmly before you feel something hard poke you from behind. “please,” you whimper, “need it—need you.”

he likes the sound of your voice so desperate—it makes him just a little satisfied that he finally has something his brother doesn’t. that he has something that he’s taken, not just given second hand.

diluc doesn’t deserve you. kaeya comes to this conclusion the first time he notices your sad eyes when his brother brushes you off to stay extra after work. he would never do that, he decides—he would skip meeting after meeting if you so wished that of him. he could make your eyes light up, he thinks, or at the very least—tear up from pleasure instead of pain.

“need me where, hmm?” he teases. his cock is hard—aching and swollen in the tight confinement of his pants, begging to be released so he can sink into the glistening folds of your cunt. but he’s waited a long time for this—so he decides to take his time with you, at least for a bit. what’s a little extra after waiting so much already?

“i-in me,” you plead, “please, need you to fuck me. need to cum,” your lips are almost pouting, lashes almost wet from the tears threatening to cling to them.

gone is the shame. gone is the remorse that you’re cheating on your boyfriend with his brother in his own office. gone is any semblance of reason and self-control as soon as kaeya slips up your skirt and tugs the flimsy fabric of your underwear aside—he decides he doesn’t have the patience to fully take it off. somewhere in the process, he’s seemed to have freed his cock, the wet, fat tip pressing against your clit before dragging up and down along your entrance as he gathers your slick and smears it along his length.

you whimper and he grunts, the slight shoot of pleasure running up your spine, enough to make you choke back on a needy whine. he grabs your hips tightly, and your hands grip the edge of the desk to brace yourself as he slowly pushes past your dripping folds, inching into you slowly with a throaty groan. good, you feel so good, and he’s not even fully in you yet.

how can diluc keep his hands off of you for longer than five minutes, let alone ignore you for more than half the day? kaeya can’t understand it. he’s parched, thirsty for it, thirsty for you—like a man desperate for water as the summer sun glares down on him with scorching heat, bubbling up his throat with carnal desire.

he thrusts his hips with a swift motion, too impatient to keep any self-control left. you mewl, back arching up to push down on his cock, feeling him curve deeper into you. the thick veins running along his length drag along your walls, making your eyes blur from the sensitivity.

“that’s it, princess,” he groans, “shit, such a tight fuckin’ pussy. ‘s not fair he gets all this to himself,” he spits, slamming his hips into you harshly, mercilessly, unforgiving as he rightfully claims what should be his.

you should be his—right from the start you were meant to be his.

“so deep,” you gasp, and he lets out a strained chuckle, breath fanning against your skin and making you shiver. “feels…feels so good,” you pant.

“yeah? you feel that?” he angles his hips to hit the blunt head of his cock against your sweet spot, perfect and precise‚ like he knows you without even trying. “feel me? ‘s like i was made for you, huh? take me so well, princess, squeezin’ me in—’m barely able to move,” he groans. “fuck—fuck, you’re so good.”

“kaeya, please,” you sob, “faster.”

your voice cracks as it says his name. it makes the thin thread tying him to sanity snap almost immediately.

and that’s all it takes for his hips to piston his thick girth in and out of your dripping cunt, animalistic in his pace. the mess of your slick and his pre cum coat your thighs and his crotch as he slaps his balls against your ass, and you can hear the smacking of skin against skin—the wet, squelching sound of his cock bullying into your pussy and filling up the room with the sound of your betrayal.

except it doesn’t feel like a betrayal—it feels like you’re choosing yourself for once, like you’re putting yourself first over a man who doesn’t think about you twice. it feels so right—so how can it be wrong?

kaeya’s voice is raspy against your ear, pretty and deep yet holding just a hint of whininess with the labored pants that spill from his throat. his hands are bruisingly tight against your hips, you’re sure they’ll leave marks from his nails digging into the flesh. his cock slips in and out of you harshly, curving into you so deep, you swear you can feel him in your throat.

and then you wonder, what would it be like to have him down your throat? how would he taste on your tongue? how would he sound with your head between his thighs?

the image itself is enough to rip a high-pitched mewl from you, cunt sensitive and throbbing, aching to relieve the pressure slowly building up in a steady ache. you’re close, so close—you can taste your release just seconds away as you reach the precipice of your high.

“‘m close, so close—g-gonna cum,” you moan, “for you—gonna cum for you,” you say so sweetly, like nectar flows from your lips. kaeya has almost half a mind to turn you around so he can suckle your lips like fruit off the tree—forbidden, yet still the height of his desires.

“cum for me, princess,” he groans, hand coming up so his thumb can roll over your clit in harsh circles, “wanna feel you—can you cum for me? let go, baby.”

and that’s all it takes for you to let out an ear-shattering squeal—surely the whole floor has heard you by now if they haven’t already. you can't bring yourself to care, and kaeya can’t bring himself to shove down the satisfaction. your walls spasm around him, making him whine as his own orgasm rips through him in tidal waves.

you can feel his cock twitch with every thick rope of cum he paints your walls with, fucking his load deep into your womb like you’re his to mark. he’s sensitive—lets out a whimper into your neck as he cums, makes your skin rise with goosebumps at the sweet sounds he makes in the height of his pleasure. he’s perfect, you think—and you’re hit with the realization as he breaks for you that you want him.

as wrong as it is, you want kaeya just as bad as he wants you.

“fuck, baby,” he groans as he finishes, “you’re something else, y’know that?”

you let out a tired giggle, feeling his body lightly slump over yours as he kisses the back of your neck.

“yeah i been told here and there,” you tease. “but you can tell me agai—”

the door opens and cuts you off, and before you can even fully comprehend what’s happened, two red and horrified eyes are blinking at you in shock before landing on a pair of smug eyes behind you.

“oh, hey,” kaeya says with a smooth voice, lips curling into a smirk as he eyes diluc casually, “that’s a first. your meetings usually never end early.”

#teepods.writings #thirstee!#fics.#genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin x you #kaeya x reader #kaeya smut #kaeya x you #diluc x reader #diluc x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x you

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writersundersiege · 3 months

Text

The New Girl in Town: Part 2

Rafe Cameron x F! Reader

if you would like to to keep reading:

The New Girl in Town - Masterlist

Warnings: Drug use implied, talks of stalking,

Summary: It’s been a week since Rafe has seen you and he’s craving just a moment with literally anyone in your family. What will happen when all in the same moment he’s granted the opportunity of your phone number and some time spent with your mom and a mysterious friend from home? Can he change the towns talk to those who are close to you before they decide who he is? Or will Rafe need to fight harder to really become a better citizen in the community for you to take notice?

It’s been a week since Rafe watched you disappear in the car with Jason, your loud music and your lively spirit trailing behind you. Every day, Rafe has been bugging Topper to come back over, and every day, it’s another excuse of “My mom wants me to mow the yard” or “Sarah asked me to help with the fundraiser happening at the county club” an endless amount of excuses.

Honestly, it’s gotten to the point where Rafe asks Sarah himself if she’s asking for Top's help, which is his last resort since conversations with her are always aggravating when she says that she indeed was pestering Topper with plans for the beginning of summer family fundraisers for families in need of new summer clothes and essentials. During this whole conversation, Rafe is getting more annoyed, trying to think about when he’ll be able to make the sly move of asking your dad and brother to golf or really anything to get to know you more before he makes the actual moves on you.

Here is the thing about Rafe: he has a reputation on this island for being a problem child, a loose cannon-rich boy who doesn’t care about anyone but Rafe and his best interest, but somehow, the second he sees you, it’s like a switch clicked. He knew you were the only other thing he may ever care about like this.

You seem so bright despite the horrible thing he’s heard you recently endured; he doesn’t want to see anyone else break that light from you. Another thing about Rafe is that he doesn’t like things he admires ruined, and he admires a lot about you.

At the end of the grueling conversation with Sarah, she asks, “Will you come to help us then?” he gets frustrated, shaking his head and walking to the front door to go to Barry’s for a bit and see if maybe getting something will clear his mind “No Sarah I don’t want to help with some stupid Pouge’s getting summer clothes if they want them they should work harder to get it themselves just like we have and I’m not playing along with your dumb im a philanthropist act” slamming the door behind himself hopping on his bike and peeling off.

Unfortunately, Rafe's undoing was that you were the one who suggested the clothes drive for this year's country club summer service act. At this very moment, Sarah was finalizing plans for that night to be able to distribute clothes to people along the cut with younger kids and some of the teens who are struggling to get new stuff with how prices are.

Sarah shakes her head, reflecting on the infuriating conversation with Rafe, trying to understand why her brother must always be so aggressive with everything. She notices her phone buzzing on her vanity, runs over, and picks it up, not even looking, saying, “Helloooo!” She hears your slight laugh through the phone

“Hey Cameron, I was just calling to tell you everything is ready to go here at the Country Club. Mom and I just finished organizing boxes based on size, and it was a great turnout. Thank you so much for those men, small and medium. Mom was panicking. We wouldn’t have enough of Jason and Dad’s nice shirts to spare.” Sarah agrees, saying, “It was no problem at all. Rafe never cleans his clothes bins from the garage, so he had many things to give things he probably won’t even remember he owns them.” You laugh over the other end of the line. Which unintentionally makes Sarah smile. “Jaz and Rafe sound like two peas in a pod. Maybe we should get them together sometime, although the combination may be a recipe for disaster.” this makes Sarah laugh, and she shakes her head, saying, “Surely it would. The loose cannon and goofball sound like a mess and kinda like that one film you showed me and topper of the two guys making a mess of things.”

Sarah hears you laugh so physically loud through the phone she’s laughing with you; it seems so contagious. “Abbott and Costello,” you say through giggles. “They were my Pop Pops favorite comedians. I have to show you, Laurel and Hardy. That is more so Rafe and Jason, two bafoons who are completely oblivious.” Sarah laughs, humming in agreement with you, not knowing what you are talking about but knowing there is always something new and exciting you're teaching her that she’s never heard of.

All of a sudden, she hears you clearing your throat “You still there, Cameron?” she sits up, realizing she is completely zoned out thinking about the times she’s spent with you and your family, and everything about you guys seems new and exciting, she says, “Yeah, sorry just getting ready to head your way” You hum something small and then turn to something behind the other end of the phone “Alright see you here soon Sarah and Oh—don’t worry about bringing any more volunteers my friend from home made a surprise stop to help me settle before he’s off to Costa Rica for a month so he picked up the spot” Sarah smiled and told you she sees you soon and hung up.

As Sarah prepares to spend her entire evening with you, enjoying your welcoming presence. Rafe sits across from Barry at a small pit fire beside his camper, doing a few lines complaining about everything going on, like Ward paying no mind to him, Sarah playing goodie two shoes to the whole island, Topper following her around like a dog, and most of all he can’t seem to find you or your family anywhere.

For the past week, Rafe has been going places like the market, even the one closer to the cut, to bump into either of your parents; he went to the library twice, hoping he’d maybe see your brother since he remembers he’s in college. Lastly, every day at sun up and sun down, since the day after you left for the ocean, he’s gone to the beach to check for you in the waves. On multiple occasions, he could swear he saw you riding a wave, laughing like you always are (H/T) sticking to your neck and face as some fly behind and around you in the wind and (E/C) squinting as you look forward and balance. In the next second, he blinks, and you're gone like a ghost haunting him, but he never knows if it’s truly there.

Barry sits and listens to Rafe talk about you and the previous time you met and how he’s trying to see you again when he finally cuts him off. “You’re telling me you’ve been on a lowkey stalk fest for days but haven’t even talked to the girl.” Rafe stands looking at him over the fire. As he starts talking, he paces back and forth. “I’ve spoken to her, you fucking idiot, just not enough. I want to make a good impression with her family in hopes-“ Barry chuckles at this part. That’s when Rafe's eyes snap to him, looking enraged enough to jump over the fire at him.

“Chill, Country Club. I find it amusing that you don’t want to smash and pass along with this one; that’s you’re usual motto there, pretty boy. so what makes this girl so different?” Barry is leaning forward, studying the boy across from him. Rafe shakes his head, sitting down and looking at his feet, saying, “You haven’t seen her.”

Suddenly, Rafe's phone rings; an unknown number calling. And he was just about to decline but thinks better of it just in case, by the grace of some god looking over him, it’s you. When he raises the phone to his ear, he hears the slightest sniffle. With his lower tambur, he says, “Hello, who’s this?” he hears what he assumes is a girl's voice clear her throat and then a shuffling of a phone and a man’s voice he knows but can’t place behind the other line “here honey let me do it sweetheart—“ and then the tone as clear as day comes to him as the man speaks.

“Yes, Hello Rafe. Is this Rafe Cameron?” Your dad Charlie was calling him, but why, how, and whose number were you calling him from? He immediately stands at the recognition. “ Yes, sir, this is he. What’s going on? Is (F/N) okay?” he asks in quick succession. Charlie chuckles and says, “Woah, slow down there, son; everybody’s fine (F/N) is not feeling well and needs to lay down, but she was leading the fundraiser, and she knew the only person she could call who’d be kind enough to show up is you” Rafe looks up at the sky cursing every constellation for him not fully listening to Sarah just this once to know it was you who was doing this the whole time, while saying “ I would miss it for the world, sir tell her she can count on me always” Charlie smiles behind the call knowing the implications Rafes makes “ I knew you would my boy I knew you would talk soon” and with that, your Dad hung up.

Rafe was scrambling to grab his bag and helmet, pulling some cash from his pocket and throwing it at Barry. “Thanks, I’ve got to go. Don’t ask.” catching the cash and pulling it from its money clip, Barry laughed and said, “Don’t worry, Country Club, I never did.”

Rafe paid no attention to this comment, though he was too busy strapping his helmet starting, and peeling off to the Country Club in the Upper side of Figure 8 to play a giving hero in hopes you’ll recognize his oh-so-generous and noble acts of community

Or maybe you won’t forget the chatter you hear around town about Rafe and his unfair and unrequited actions towards many before you, but he’s looking forward with hope for the first outcome to blossom into something bigger.

All rights belong to the owners of Netflix and the Outer Banks. I do not own any characters except the family. The fiction is simply for fun. All copyrights belong to the original owners.

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blingblong55 · 10 months

Text

Just a bet- Philip Graves

This is the part 2 to this

Based on a request: Can I make a request, please of a heartbreaker Graves x Naive/Innocent Fem!reader? (Am in need some feelings hurt to feel something) Prompts; - reader is a general’s daughter, whilst grave is an ambitious soldier who aimed to be a captain (or somewhere along the lines) - There were bets of who can f-ck the general’s daughter happening behind the scene among the soldiers, and Grave decided to join in - Unfortunately reader, fell in love with grave. Found out it just a bet, felt betrayed and heartbroken. I hope this is okay with you, also it's okay if you don’t want to do it 🫶🏻🫶🏻 tqsm!

F!Reader, angst, implied sexual relations

A/N: like any man would say "short but good", enjoy:)

There you stood in an empty hallway before reaching the mess hall, heartbroken and all hope lost.

It was absurd how much his words and actions had hurt you, you were never asked to be his girlfriend but it hurt very much to know all he wanted this entire time was to use you for some bet. In many ways, he humiliated you for money. You were the girl any guy would want to sleep with, that you knew about; But for the first time in so long, you did believe he wanted you for you, that for a long time someone was interested in who you were as a human.

To be honest, when he took you on those dates, held your hand at that park and put his coat over your shoulder that night, you felt like someone cared enough to do those little things. It was like you were 13 all over again, blushing and looking away when he did something cute for you. At times you did want to see past those dates, how it would be during summer, him and you at your parent's house for some party. He didn't leave any clues of what master plan he had during those dates, that he was smart about.

The voices of the men were muffled as you backed away, not daring to walk into mess hall. He of course thought you'd be okay, not once checking in to text you like how he would when he was trying to desperately win that money. Your eyes were teary as you walked back to your dad's office and you so desperately tried to blink them away. Unfortunately, your dad had been a man like Graves, although he would never admit to it.

In his young years, he too tried to get with the general's daughter, but when he met your mum minutes before he tried anything with said daughter, he backed away and let life takes its course.

The look in your eyes was something he had seen before when you found out your first boyfriend used you for your looks back when you were 17. So as any good father, he stood from his desk and walked to you, "alright, kiddo, c'mere." his arms open wide. Your face on his chest, like the time you rode a bike and fell, how much you cried and how much he comforted you.

"It's not fair," you began, his hand rubbing your back.

"I just wish this time someone liked me, Dad…just me" your voice soft yet filled with hurt. And for minutes he let you cry in his arms. Maybe he can't discharge Graves for hurting his little girl, but rest assured he would make the man pay for it.

After weeks of you finally going back to being quiet and reserved, Graves saw you again, walking with some female soldier. You and her making jokes and sharing something on your phones. He did feel bad after a while. He missed how you would talk about any new space discoveries and how your face would light up when you would get excited about it. To be clear, the money was a bonus, he did like talking to you.

The promotion wasn't so important when he started to think of you at night, were you asleep? Are you thinking of him like he is of you? Will you talk in the morning over text? Did you like him?

But after all, what is a man if not selfish and rude? Graves did regret not being the guy you'd take home for the holidays, whoever the next man could be, he would make sure that man knows how lucky he is to listen to you talk. After you and he lost contact and the sweet glances you'd give the other stopped, he started to look into any new space discoveries daily, just in case you and him talked again and he'd wanted to impress you.

For a moment, a soldier like him felt normal by your side, he did like how your hands always found a way to his and he did picture you going back home with him, meeting his folks and spending the fourth of July with him and how he'd kiss you as the fireworks went off.

Life is full of mysteries, you follow or chase them and if you are a fool like him, you'll end up sitting alone in an office by the age of 39. The girl he later realised was the love of his life with another, probably about to start a family while he commands Shadow Company. To be honest, at times he looks back at pictures of you and searches for you only to understand you have disappeared from the face of the Earth. What could've been a life full of fruition is now a life of misery and regrets as he sits alone, lights dimmed as he scrolls through old messages.

If only he would stop looking for your late father. If only he would stop asking questions to those who were close to you, maybe he wouldn't be standing in the grave of an unmarked soldier. A small petal on the tomb, like the nickname he had given you during those golden times.

When he later found out he lost a life with you to the enemy, he made sure to search the ends of the world to kill the man personally. Because how dare he take away the only delicate petal in his life that hadn't died so easily from his touch.

All he will do in this life is regret winning a bet on men who have since died in wars created by men. It was just a bet, he'd tell himself every time he would go for a picnic at your grave or at the park where he wanted to lean in and kiss you on your second date. Just a bet.

A/N: angsty enough? dunno, but I do hope you like it :)

Tags: @kiamewrites @casimodull

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bella-goths-wife · 6 months

Text

The lost boys reaction to being asked “so where’s mom?”

Platonic father lost boys x baby lost boys daughter

Content: what the lost boys would do if someone asked where readers mom is

Warnings: none that I could think of? If I missed something please let me know

This is inspired by the fatherhood scene where everyone keeps asking where the mom is

Dwayne

“So where’s mom?”

This question pisses him off

Especially if they don’t address him when asking it

For example “where’s your mommy little one?”

He finds this question to be nosy as fuck

But he’ll remain calm

There’s a twitch in his eye brow and deep frown on his face but he’ll try and not snap at the person who asks

He knows his relationship with his boys isn’t the norm and he knows that a child being raised by four men definitely isn’t the norm

So he’ll just lie and say something about the mom being out of town or is busy doing something and then he’ll calmly walk away

He’s definitely ranting about it to your baby self who literally understands none of the words coming out of his mouth but you just liked having the attention

He’d also rant in a baby voice so you don’t think he’s mad at you

He’d say something like “that nosy bitch should mind her business, yes she should, yes she should” in a baby voice

But he has the audacity to act surprised when baby reader curses

Paul

This man would have the most fun with this

He would create the biggest lies just to fuck with people

He’d be holding you gently while walking down the beach and someone would randomly walk up to the two of you and ask him that question and an evil grinch smile would spread across his face

His favourite lies to tell is that your mother is either in prison for murder, part of a conspiracy against the government or that she’s a famous actress who didn’t want the public knowing she’d had a baby

He lives for the shocked expressions on the persons face before calmly walking away and cackling loudly once he’s a good distance away

Marko

He’s the exact same as Paul when someone asks him that question, he lies

Sometimes he spins a really sympathetic story so he can scam some money out of people that he can use to spoil you with more toys

He and Paul have bets to see who can come up with the most outrageous lie and get the best reaction out of someone

He once told someone that your mother had broken out of a mental hospital before finding marko and getting pregnant with you and then one day a baby was dropped off at markos front door

He then covered your ears and went “let’s just hope she doesn’t say she can see noises and smell colours like her mother”

He cackled as the person just slowly backed away with a gtfo expression

He won the bet of the night of who could tell the best lie

If star is involved, he’ll lie just to spite her and be passive aggressive

When he’s asked he’ll put an arm around star when she approaches and goes “well mommy was a junkie who joined a hippie cult before coming back for her daughter”

It gets star a lot of dirty looks and it gives marko endless amounts of joy

David

This question irks David, because why is this person all up in his business?

If this is pre star time and he was just having a night with the two of you, he’ll just bluntly respond “dead” and then walk away from the shocked and guilty looking person

People just assume that he’s still upset about your mothers death, but David honestly just doesn’t have the energy to lie so he’s blunt

If this is post star and someone asks him where your mom is he’ll just gesture to star with an ‘obviously’ expression

You could honestly look nothing like either of them and David would still look at them like they are the stupidest person to ever breathe air

If you look nothing like either of them and someone questions it, they will get two reactions depending on David’s mood

If he’s in a playful mood he’ll just imply something along the lines of star being involved in infidelity and then laugh at her angry expression, this mostly happens when he’s feeling jealous of her so he’ll embarrass her

If he’s just not in the mood at all, he’ll just glare at the person and say “what does this have to do with you?” And the person gets scared enough to back away and leave immediately

This is the reaction he gives most of the time

He was super protective of baby reader anyway so anyone approaching the two of you and interrupting his precious daddy-daughter time then he’s gonna be annoyed and thinking about sinking his teeth into the persons neck

Sometimes the boys wonder where the softer version of David went as you got older, but no one but David knows

#slashers x reader #lost boys x reader #lost boys x child reader #poly lost boys x reader #yandere lost boys x reader #platonic lost boys x reader #yandere lost boys #dad lost boys #the lost boys #lost boy x reader

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vickyvicarious · 9 months

Text

There were two lines in particular that stood out to me today, and made me wonder just how long the Captain has suspected the first mate of being the cause of all these disappearances. They are as follows:

Just as I was beginning to hope that the mate would come out calmer—for I heard him knocking away at something in the hold, and work is good for him—there came up the hatchway a sudden, startled scream, which made my blood run cold, and up on the deck he came as if shot from a gun—a raging madman, with his eyes rolling and his face convulsed with fear. [...] I suppose I know the secret too, now. It was this madman who had got rid of the men one by one, and now he has followed them himself.

August 2

There are two main things going on here. First, the mate is a violent madman; secondly, the Captain knows that work will calm him down. This latter implies that the Captain has taken pains to manage the mate's temper in the past. And in doing so, it adds an extra facet of guilt to his assumption that the mate was the killer all along, because he knew at least a little bit, and he thought he'd been handling it. He thought he understood just how far the mate would go, and how to stop him, and it turns out now that he was blind all along. I imagine he feels responsible for failing to protect the rest of his crew. The familiarity implied by the Captain knowing how to manage the mate also suggests that even if he started suspecting him a while ago, he might not have wanted to admit to it, even to himself.

I decided to look back over the previous entries with the Captain's perspective of the mate in mind, and honestly... I can definitely see where his suspicions would have grown. There are also several little moments of him trying to 'manage' the mate, as well as some insight into the mate's own character and the reasons for his reactions. But it does involve a fair bit of quoting, so I'm sticking it under a cut for length.

Mate could not make out what was wrong; they only told him there was something, and crossed themselves. Mate lost temper with one of them that day and struck him. Expected fierce quarrel, but all was quiet.

14 July

This is the first mention of the mate. He is immediately linked with violence. From the Captain's perspective, he gets furious with the crew's superstitions and is very quick to resort to violence. The Captain expects things to escalate (possibly due to knowing the mate, possibly due to the crew reacting badly to one of them being hit) but is pleasantly surprised when they don't.

With later context, it seems apparent that the reason the mate is so furious is specifically because of the something that doesn't get named. Perhaps he thinks he knows what the worst 'something' is and that it can't be here; perhaps he just is angry that they won't elaborate. But the superstition is what makes him cross over from anger into outright violence, in what seems like an unplanned and heat-of-the-moment reaction.

Men more downcast than ever. All said they expected something of the kind, but would not say more than there was something aboard. Mate getting very impatient with them; feared some trouble ahead.

16 July

It's the same thing here. The Captain is outright wary of the mate's reaction to the crew, and is paying close attention, likely with an intention to manage the situation when tensions build too much. But the mate is once again bothered most by the vague fear of something supernatural. Again I wonder if it's more about them considering it being here at all (he knows It can't follow him onto the water) or with them refusing to name their fear to him (maybe he knows of other things as well).

Later in the day I got together the whole crew, and told them, as they evidently thought there was some one in the ship, we would search from stem to stern. First mate angry; said it was folly, and to yield to such foolish ideas would demoralise the men; said he would engage to keep them out of trouble with a handspike. I let him take the helm, while the rest began thorough search, all keeping abreast, with lanterns: we left no corner unsearched. As there were only the big wooden boxes, there were no odd corners where a man could hide. Men much relieved when search over, and went back to work cheerfully. First mate scowled, but said nothing.

17 July

The Captain's willingness to capitulate to the crew's fears angers the mate. Knowing this, we see the Captain give the mate a job to do to keep him occupied while everyone else gets involved in the search. From his POV, this seems to work to keep him calm/stop him from realizing his threat, and it allows the Captain to calm everyone else: a win-win. But I think the mate's objections reveal much more about himself than they do the crew. He is the one who would be demoralized, who is trying so hard not to yield to such foolish ideas. He's rejecting everything to do with the idea of a monster on board, because he knows/fears it to well to handle himself. If he lets himself acknowledge the possibility there's no way he could keep it together, so he lashes out instead. By being left in charge of the helm, he gets to avoid feeding his own fears, and meanwhile everyone else's reassured reaction probably reassures whatever part of himself knows the truth.

Rough weather last three days, and all hands busy with sails—no time to be frightened. Men seem to have forgotten their dread. Mate cheerful again, and all on good terms.

22 July

This entry is dual-purpose. First, the mate has also been extremely busy, and this is a good distraction for him from his fear. Secondly, the crew being so busy means that they haven't been bringing up their suspicions, and so it's easier for him to ignore his own. While they have only forgotten their dread, he's described as cheerful. Possibly that's just in contrast to his prior anger, but it might also hint that he is outright happy at things seeming normal again/the ability to shove all suspicion down.

Men all in a panic of fear; sent a round robin, asking to have double watch, as they fear to be alone. Mate angry. Fear there will be some trouble, as either he or the men will do some violence.

24 July

The Captain's worry for the crew is more likely to be mutiny due to their fear; he worries that the mate will lose control of his temper and try to beat them down in order to shut them up. What he's missing is that the mate's reaction is also related to fear. Giving in to a double watch is as much as saying there is something to be afraid of, which he desperately does not want to do.

Honorary mention for the lack of mention of the mate in the 28 July entry as well - once again, they've been working endlessly, and there isn't any mention of the mate. You might expect someone's temper to get shorter when they're sleep-deprived. But the mate is calmed by being busy and by not having to listen to the crew's fears.

Are now without second mate, and crew in a panic. Mate and I agreed to go armed henceforth and wait for any sign of cause.

29 July

This line applies to all three. The Captain allowing the mate to go armed may seem to be an odd way to manage his temper, but I think it comes down to giving him more of a job to do. Working calms him down. Having the ability and responsibility to do something will reassure him. And of course, as first mate it's simply his job to be one of the two men making these decisions and keeping their heads cool when everyone else is panicking. On the other hand, at least in retrospect, this moment must contribute to making him look suspicious later. He now has an excuse to be armed at all times and suddenly things start getting worse much faster, almost like he doesn't need to wait for an opportunity like before.

And finally, from the mate's POV, this moment marks him finally capitulating of his own accord to his fears. He's no longer able to ignore the situation, or grumpily follow the orders of others who are being foolish. No, now he is involved in the choice to stay armed, and by taking action himself he's started to open the door to his own fears.

Retired worn out; slept soundly; awaked by mate telling me that both man of watch and steersman missing.

30 July

Except for the first man who went missing, it has often been unclear who discovers the missing people. But now we get the mate being the one to deliver the news. At least in hindsight, this can't help but make him seem more suspicious. Right after the Captain agrees that both of them should be armed and ready, the mate delivers news that two men have gone missing at once. If he is the one who did it, then surely this timing suggests that he found it easier to kill them. That's not to say it would have been impossibly for him to just pick up a weapon earlier, but in the Captain's frame of mind this timing probably makes him more suspicious.

We seem to be drifting to some terrible doom. Mate now more demoralised than either of men. His stronger nature seems to have worked inwardly against himself. Men are beyond fear, working stolidly and patiently, with minds made up to worst. They are Russian, he Roumanian.

1 August

After his discovery of the two missing crewmembers, the mate is miserable. Here the readers finally get the reveal of his nationality, suggesting that he's known of vampires all along. And he's miserable and afraid. Likely repeating to himself again and again that it's impossible, they can't cross running water, etc. Since the ship is drifting, he can't even throw himself into his work in the same way, and this forced inaction makes everything worse for him. Meanwhile the Captain sees the mate's condition and views it as his stronger nature turned inwardly to his detriment. This phrasing is a little confusing but I think could definitely contribute to seeing him as suspicious, in that his mental stability is suffering.

Woke up from few minutes' sleep by hearing a cry, seemingly outside my port. Could see nothing in fog. Rushed on deck, and ran against mate. Tells me heard cry and ran, but no sign of man on watch. One more gone. Lord, help us! Mate says we must be past Straits of Dover, as in a moment of fog lifting he saw North Foreland, just as he heard the man cry out.

2 August

Sure, there's no one else to do it. But it must feel suspicious that suddenly the mate is the one delivering all information. Once again, he's the one delivering news of another death he's been just too late to prevent. He's the only one who knows where they are in the fog, and the news he delivers isn't welcome. If the Captain has been harboring any suspicions at all, or even if he's just beginning to do so, all of this timing can be recontextualized to make the mate seem very suspicious.

Of course, we readers know that his story must be the truth. The mate has finally admitted what must be going on to himself, and yet he doesn't understand how, nor has he been able to do anything at all to prevent it. The futility and fear is driving him mad. Which brings us back to today...

I dared not leave it, so shouted for the mate. After a few seconds he rushed up on deck in his flannels. He looked wild-eyed and haggard, and I greatly fear his reason has given way. [...] He came close to me and whispered hoarsely, with his mouth to my ear, as though fearing the very air might hear: "It is here; I know it, now. On the watch last night I saw It, like a man, tall and thin, and ghastly pale. It was in the bows, and looking out. I crept behind It, and gave It my knife; but the knife went through It, empty as the air." And as he spoke he took his knife and drove it savagely into space. Then he went on: "But It is here, and I'll find It. It is in the hold, perhaps in one of those boxes. I'll unscrew them one by one and see. You work the helm." [...] "Save me! save me!" he cried, and then looked round on the blanket of fog. His horror turned to despair, and in a steady voice he said: "You had better come too, captain, before it is too late. He is there. I know the secret now. The sea will save me from Him, and it is all that is left!"

3 August

The Captain finally openly admits his suspicions. That, or perhaps he was denying them to himself all along, and only after seeing the mate's latest reaction did he think back over the earlier journey. He's got time to do so while stuck at the helm, after all. Even now he still hopes that the exertion will calm the mate down to a point where he can be reasoned with, until finally his return from the hold - and immediate suicide - put paid to that notion. And yet, the guilt must be even stronger because even lost in his violent delusion (as the Captain sees it), the mate never tries to hurt the Captain, and even tries to tell him how to 'save' himself. It suggests a kind of connection, maybe a friendship, that makes the Captain's conclusion about the mate's guilt all the sadder. Not only is it his responsibility as the captain to protect his crew, but as the only person who the mate doesn't want to hurt/possibly who really knew him he should have been able to see what was going on and stop it. None of that is reasonable really, he's absolutely been doing his best, but I think it could be how he might feel about it.

Meanwhile, we see that the mate tried to kill the vampire once already. In reading back over these entries, I think I've realized something. The mate has internally admitted the possibility of a vampire for several days now, though he hasn't spoken to anyone else. He saw it the last night, and was unable to stop it in time to save his crewmate, but finally was determined to act against it at all costs. It, still. He crept up from behind, he didn't get a good look. It's not until today that he finally 'knows the secret'. It's not until today that he understands "He is there." I think the final straw for the mate may have been his discovery, when unscrewing the boxes, that this isn't just any vampire. This is Count Dracula. It's Him. The vampire. And the mate screams, flees in fear, despairs, gives up on any plan of fighting at all - knowing that this is not a fight he could ever win. Instead he flings himself into the water. After all, in its depths a man can sleep -- as a man.

#dracula daily #captain of the demeter #crew of the demeter #my meta

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ghostedgrim · 20 days

Text

The Avina Mission- Prolouge

"The chances I'd get thrusted across space weren't high, but people were still convinced that this would happen to my crew and I. I mean, really, what are the chances I'd get thrusted into a galaxy far, far away? Absolutely 0%!"

Those were the last words planet Earth heard from the Avina I space crew.

A year ago, Dr. Duncan had discovered hyperspeed. Six months ago, Progect Avina was created. The name Avina comes from the doctor's cat of all things. Five weeks ago, the Avina I crew were sent on their first mission. The goal- to use hyperspeed for the first time ever to travel to the space station on Jupiter, then back to Earth.

They were supposed to return within two days... people theorize the crew miscalculated the directions and got launched out of the solar system, other's believe they ship exploded.

-●☆☆☆●-

"Sir, I'm intercepting a signal of sorts?"

"Signal of sorts? CT-4509, please elaborate on "signal of sorts," if I had known you clones were so bad at interpreting signals I would've never allowed the general to assing you to my ship," Lieutenant Cain grumbles something under her breath as she looks over the clone's shoulder.

"The signal is weak, but the source is close, the sound is far too grainy to make out any words, if someone is even speaking ma'am."

"And the source?"

"It's from an unmarked vessel, ma'am. We're not yet close enough for visuals, but so far, the scans show it isn't imperial or even from anywhere in this galaxy." Lieutenant Cain speaks to the captain through her comms. After a few orders are sent out, a shuttle is sent to investigate, and the Star Destoryer shifts course, searching for the signals source.

After what feels like forever, the mysterious vessel comes into view. The vessel itself is quite crude in build. There's something printed in bold on the ship, but the letters are a language no one on board recognizes. Whoever made it was either some stupid engineer or a backwater planet that just discovered space travel.

"Ma'am, the signal has cleared out. It's on repeat," the clone plays the audio, it's still grainy but more clear. "Hustion, this is Avina I do you copy? Huston, do you copy? Jupiter Satellite Omega 5, do you copy?...Caution fuel levels are at, 15%, turning on emerging power... FUCK! Is there anyone out here! Does anyone copy! Mayday! Our fuel is depleted, our navigation isn't working, half my crew is dead! We are unarmed." The signal fades out before repeating itself.

"Well, at least they speak the same language. How old is the signal?"

"At least two days old ma'am."

"Pull up the visual feed of the troopers on the shuttle investigating the vessel"

-●☆☆☆●-

Five clones total, plus some random pilot the empire hired. Hopper ensures his helmet is secured before walking onto the small vessel. He and his brothers are caught off guard when there's absolutely no gravity on the vessel. For several moments, the men drift, trying to find purchase on the walls to collect their bearings. This vessel lacks any sense of direction aside from forward or backward, implying whoever created this, made it without artificial gravity.

The lights keep flashing red, and an electronic voice repeats that only 2% of the backup fuel remains. The men drift until they find themselves in a small space with ten tube-like pods, and 6 have a red line across the front along with an unfamiliar lettering. Inside those 6 pods are six frozen bodies. However, two have seemed to thawed, leaving grotesque decomposing corpses within. There's almost no heat on this vessel. Looking at the pods, these creatures must be from a frozen over planet, which would explain the need for pods to keep them frozen.

Hopper and his men explore forward until they reach a dead end. For several moments, he looks around, only to realize there was a hole above him that led to the cockpit. Four bodies drift within it. The cockpit is tiny and cramped, two seats, with buttons, and leavers all around. It was a miracle a single person could fit. Now, back to those four bodies. Their suits are thick and bulky, and the helmet was like a fish bowl. Either these creatures are thick or a bit too dramatic with their layers.

"Hopper, my scans show their alive, but their vitals are weak." Hopper looms over the data pad in his brother's hand. Sure enough, the four creatures before them were alive, but they won't stay that way for long. They need medical aid and fast. He drifts to Dive Bomb, who's drowned himself in what Hopper thinks is their data logs.

"What have you found, Dive Bomb?"

"Sir, these creatures have a hyperdrive, a weak and roughly scraped together one, but it's functional. Or it was till they lost fuel. It's a miracle they're alive at all. They've been traveling with hyperspeed for around five weeks! Whatever they are, they're definitely not from this galaxy."

"I'll call the captain." Hopper drifts back onto the imperial shuttle. Moving from zero gravity to artificial graved made his limbs feel like lead. "Captain Rhys, permission to bring the creatures we found on the shuttle on board. From what my men have found, they were a crew of ten, six died, and four are barely alive. They're not from our galaxy, and I don't think they're from any of the neighboring galaxies either, sir. They've been in hyperspeed for around five weeks. It's a miracle they're still alive."

Fortunately, the captain allowed us to bring the strange vessel on board, and the creatures were rushed to the med bay. Hopper now stands guard within the room of one of the creatures. He wasn't present for the first few tests, but apparently, the doctor concluded our air is safe for the creatures. He watches as the nurse removes the helmet from the creature, and for a moment, everyone is shocked. Hopper had expected something more...icy, blue skin, maybe some frost, or fur, but no...the creature before him was human.

☆☆☆ ☆☆☆ ☆☆☆ ☆☆☆ ☆☆☆

VOTE HERE TO PICK A CODENAME FOR GN READER

Thanks for reading. The idea for this fic kinda hit me out of the blue. Updates will be inconsistent. Now I do have ideas of that'll happen throughout the fic, and I plan for it to take place during the events of The Bad Batch. I really hope to make a full story of this because I believe that this concept deserves to be written.

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triplexdoublex · 2 years

Text

Good Enough To Eat

Pairing: Colson, Rook, Slim, Baze, Modsun, Travis Barker X Reader

Warnings/Tags: Gangbang, implied consent, all holes filled, Sacrelige, mentions of a foot fetish

a/n: This was much harder to write than I anticipated -- 6 dicks, 6 tongues, 12 hands (and dont even make me do the math on fingers) is a lot to keep track of , especially when they’re all on/in one body at once. Reader is written as not really being familiar with who they all out so you’ll see then more often referred to by description or known references to help you figure out who’s who. Names are only really mentioned when another character is saying them. Also please note Justin and Sophie weren’t around when I started this fic over a year ago , so that’s why they’re not included . Enjoy!

“…Happy birthday, Dear Rookie, happy birthday to you!” Six male voices clamor in celebration, as you lay on the table before them ; your nude body a flesh platter, serving up the freshest array of strategically placed sashimi and rolled sushi.

“Damn, that looks good enough to eat!” The shaggy blonde announces; his words dripping with inuendo.

“KELLS!” The man to his left warns.

“Oh, for Fucks sake Slim you know you were thinking it too.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t say it, cuz I’m polite like that.” Slim responds suppressing a laugh.

It’s not the first time you had a customer say something like that; and in your line of work, it certainly won’t be the last. This time it felt a bit different though— Usually it’s a group of middle aged business men with grey hair and overpriced suits making lewd remarks and trying to get handsy in lieu of using their chopsticks as they feasted off your body, but this time the suggestive nature of the gorgeous, young, heavily tattooed men’s words have you imagining them feasting on your body in other ways.

“Yo, Rook! Listen man I don’t give a shit if it’s your birthday, you ain’t sitting at the end of the table near her feet— g’ the fuck outta my seat!”

“All yours, Kells,” Rook laughs with an eyeroll getting up to switch seats with the tall blonde, knowing his friend's affinity for a pedicured pair.

“Perfect,” he smirks, taking his new seat as he admires your toes.

********

“Aye, yo if none a y’all are gonna be brave enough to go for the last piece above her pussy—I’m calling dibs,” the blonde announces rising from seat, his lanky body towering over you before bending at the waist. He firmly plants his hands on the table; one on each side of your hips and dips his head. “It seems I’ve forgot my chopsticks,” he states, looking up at you through his pale blonde lashes. “and it’s rude to eat with your hands,” he dips his head lower, his mouth just centimeters away from where you were picturing it earlier.

Using his tongue as a scoop, he lifts a small chunk of raw Salmon into his mouth; the decorative leaf placed under it for hygienic purposes is the only barrier between his tongue and where you want it most. He barely has to chew the soft raw fish — it’s so fresh—before swallowing it down.

“Best bite yet,” he licks his lips seductively. “Say, sweet girl— you wouldn’t happen to have any dessert for us tonight, would you? He glides a finger along the seam of where your two bare thighs meet.

His crew and friends shift awkwardly in their seats, beginning to worry the self-proclaimed ‘wild boy’ is taking things too far when,suddenly they take notice of how the blondes touch has your legs spreading easier than butter on warm toast.

“I don’t think we’ll be needing these anymore,” he smirks before removing the three strategically placed leaves and last of your modesty.

He takes your breasts in his hands, groping them as his mouth descends a trail of open mouth kisses down your naked torso. His friends watch in awe as Kells hands and mouth travel lower, his blonde head settling between your thighs. He licks one long languid stripe up your soaked slit before pausing.

“Silly me, where are my manners?” He wipes at his mouth . “Birthday boy always gets the first piece of cake.” He motions to Rook with a smirk.

Rook stands, his pants already tented as he makes his way over to between your thighs. He plucks an elastic from his wrist and quickly secures his braids back— and fuck, he’s even more gorgeous now without the braids obstructing the view of his ever changing hazel/green eyes and sexy dimples. He wraps his arms around your legs and grips your thighs with calloused hands swiftly pulling you to the edge of the table. You let out a surprised squeak at his actions, causing him to smirk as he places a series of kisses descending down your inner thighs before pausing to marvel at your wetness. Using his middle and ring finger he gathers your arousal and brings it to his lips, sucking the sweet elixir from his fingertips. He hums to himself enjoying the way you taste before diving in fully; those same two fingers plunging into you, and his mouth engulfing your clit. It feels like heaven as he slurps and sucks at it and you can tell he’s a man with a lot of experience under his belt — typical rockstar. It’s only a matter of time before the rest of the gang shows off their experience as well, swarming your naked body like ants at a picnic.

A expedition of hungry hands roam over the swell of your breasts and descend down your body to the valley between your thighs. In a state of arousal you allow them to use you as they want; touch, grab, taste and take turns with you as they please— everything a blur of euphoria.

Last you knew the birthday boy was working his magic between your thighs, your eyes squeezed shut in pleasure , but now as they briefly flicker open a vision of the Virgin Mary begins to come into focus and for a moment you think perhaps you died and went to heaven—- it certainly feels that way. It’s not until your eyes fully focus you realize the image is inked upon the bald head of the man devouring you now. The absolute irony of the religious imagery being present during such an unholy act just turns you on even more— just another layer of taboo. The next thing you know it’s as if Jesus himself is hovering over you, long light brown hair dusting across your bare breasts as his cock moves insides you. Your words seem to match your thoughts and you cry out “Jesus Christ!” in a fit of pleasure as the long-haired man repeatedly slams into your G-spot.

“Someone give her something to shut her mouth up” the biblical-looking figure orders.

In an instant you felt a slippery tongue push in past your lips, the sweet taste of Shirley Temples still lingering on the green haired man’s taste buds. For a brief moment as his tongue fights against your own you find yourself wondering about his story— about how long he’s been sober. You noticed he hasn’t touched a drop of alcohol all night despite it being paraded in front of him, the boys downing shot after shot. Your thoughts are interrupted by the man still inside of you.

“That’s not exactly what I had in mind, Mod” he jokes “Slim, show him how it’s done!”

The salty flesh of a hard cock quickly replaces the sweet tongue that occupied your mouth. Standing above you he reaches down pinching both your nipples between his thumb and forefingers, giving them a series of tugs as he forces his cock down your throat. You notice his hands are much softer and less calloused than the other hands that are roaming and fondling your body, and you figure he must play a much more delicate instrument than the others, which is ironic given he’s being anything but with you.

It’s not long before there’s so much going on and you're completely drunk off pleasure that you can no longer even keep track of who’s mouth, who’s hands, who’s fingers and who’s cock, is where. All you know is you’ve came at least three times, you’ve been folded into every position possible , and every orifice is deliciously sore and well used. But your ass might just be the sorest of all, having been the blonde ring leader's favorite most of the evening; his huge cock stretching it and filling it so well. You wonder how much more your body can take and how much longer the men can possibly last, but truth be told, this is by far the best night you’ve ever had on the job and you never want it to end .

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a-polite-melody · 2 years

Text

Just saw a post that went something along the lines of, “trans mascs who use transandrophobia say they’re on the inclusive side but are actually exclusionist because they exclude trans women from talking about transphobia! It implies that, say, if he’s talking about medical mistreatment, that trans women don’t go through that!”

And like… what? The number of assumptions being made here is astronomical. These people are actively making things up by finding the worst-faith possible readings of things.

In no way does talking about transandrophobia stop trans women from talking about transmisogyny, or any trans non-masc person from talking about transphobia.

There is no implication that, when talking about medical abuse and calling that medical abuse transandrophobic, that there isn’t medical abuse against people other than trans mascs. There is also transmisogynistic medical abuse, misogynistic medical abuse, fatphobic medical abuse… The ways these types of medical abuse materialize are not exactly the same, and so people have started using language to reflect that. Why is it only trans mascs who are being accused of being exclusionary? Why is it only trans mascs who have these weird assumptions being pushed onto our talking about our experiences?

But also, there is absolutely part of medical transandrophobia that WILL NOT affect trans women and other trans fems (and some nonbinary people). And so not being included in that conversation isn’t bad or incorrect. The only way I could think that would be is from a hierarchical view of oppressive forces that means that the ‘more oppressed’ can talk on the oppression of anyone ‘less oppressed’ than them. This gets exacerbated by transandrophobia continually being called “just transphobia,” implying that these things which ARE TRANS MASC SPECIFIC (eg. being denied abortion care specifically because of an M marker, then requiring detransition to access) are equally able to affect all trans people. Speaking about specific types of abuse does not then say that trans women face no medical abuse, just that that particular form is specific to trans mascs and trans men — anyone who transitions and changes their gender marker to M, really.

Most of the arguments against transandrophobia, at this point, are outright saying within the argument that there are “hidden implications” and it’s exhausting. People are fully, with their whole chests, admitting they are making strawmen to get angry about and that those strawmen are why our theory is bad. We just want to talk about what stuff we go through. We aren’t trying to secretly oppress other people by doing so.

#my post #transandrophobia #transmisandry

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bokettochild · 8 months

Note

with my father's funeral today and your perchance to write excellent "Wars/Time/Sky going dad", felt like telling you about a rather fitting song for any of the Link-Dads (although im mostly focusing on Sky and Legend)

it's called "My Father's Eyes" by Eric Clapton. he wrote it as his whole life, he never met his father. one lyric from it "I feel like a bridge that was washed away. My foundations were made of clay" made me think of Legend and how although he had his uncle, you do have part of him longing to have had parents at some point. knowing they love you helps, but it's quite different when they're gone forever

trust me, i know

another fitting line was "As my soul, slides down to die, how did I lose him, what did i try? Bit by bit, I've realized. That he was here with me, I looked into my father's eyes." it reminded me of when Legend realizes that Sky is pretty much his dad now. even though he never had his father, he looked up and saw him in Sky

it's a great song, my dad loved it

I'm sorry I didn't get to this over the weekend when you sent it, but as soon as I could, i sat down and listened to the song.

I don't know why or how I came out writing what I did, but I hope it helps at least a little (I think you were asking for a story? Sorry if I read this wrong)

Anyways, my brain's been trapped by the last update, and the song made me listen to other similar ones and I got this

Midnight Skies

Legend won’t lie and say he doesn’t feel jealous when, the moment they arrive at Hyrule castle, Four runs and jumps into the arms of the first knight they see. Not that he’d freely admit to said jealousy though as it churns in his gut when the man swings their smallest hero around with a deep laugh before settling small feet again to the earth and ruffling already mused and messy blonde hair. Height aside, there’s enough resemblance; something in the eyes and the set of the jaw, that leaves no doubt as to the fact that the armored soldier is their smithy’s father.

And doesn’t that just sting.

He’s pretty sure he doesn’t let on anything over dinner, as not one but two men sit to their smithy’s side, father and grandfather all too eager to hear how their boy has been, egging stories out of the heroes and sharing some of their own. All while Four groans into the table and tries, desperately, to discredit all present and deny any and all accusations. Legend manages, somehow, to smile and laugh along, all while something dark twists inside his gut, hating the smithy for the way the other hero groans and complains about father and grandfather both.

As if he isn’t the luckiest one among them to have both.

Time’s father was a tree, or so the joke goes.

Twilight was raised by a whole village, the local blacksmith taking primary care of teaching him as he grew up, but even then, the relationship isn’t exactly father and son.

Warriors keeps any word of family held close to his chest, but the brief mentions in past imply that any father he knew was distant and typically drunk.

Wild doesn’t remember being a kid, much less having a family.

Wind was raised by his grandmother.

Hyrule’s father was gone before he was ever born.

Sky was an orphan raised in the academy by the elderly housekeeper and her husband.

And well, Legend had his uncle. For all of eight years before Ganon’s knights killed the man in a sewer beneath the castle. And even after the triforce brought him back, the man was... different.

It hurt.

Four’s father is warm. And when the smithy splits, four persons now rather than one, all are greeted by color and treated with fondness.

Uncle could never understand why he’d changed. Why the little boy who had wanted to run an orchard and live in the country would suddenly wake up crying most nights. Why warm hugs were fought off in panic. He’d been startled when Legend couldn’t stand to so much look at a dog, never mind pet one. There’d been endless confusion, and on some nights, he’d overheard Uncle talking with the Elder’s wife. She’d come up to check on them, on him specifically, but they’d both thought he was asleep. He wishes he had been. He'd never have heard Uncle admit he didn’t know how to handle him anymore. He'd never have heard the man call him a stranger.

Legend had set out the next day, claiming to visit Zelda.

A visit turned into a plea for anything to get him out, which itself turned to a mission to Holodrum to find Din.

Some days, he regrets having left.

The house was empty when he came home. He’s still not exactly sure what happened, and he couldn’t bear to ask, but he hopes, wherever he went, that Uncle’s life got easier without him.

Sometimes he wishes he’d fought back the screaming of his mind and just allowed strong arms to wrap around him one last time. Wishes he’d hid it better. Realistically, at nine years old, there was no way to hide the demons in his mind. Not while living in a little one room cottage. Not when Uncle stayed up late anyways, or late for Legend anyway. Now, nine o’clock hardly seems late at all, especially when sleep evades him so often, but back then, it’d seemed so very late indeed, especially in winter.

Sometimes, when Warriors takes out his pipe or someone cleans their sword, he can almost smell the heavy tobacco and sword grease scent the old knight always carried on him. Even now, sitting in Four’s house, the smell is everywhere. Grandpa Smith smells just like him, and doesn’t that just rub it all in deeper? Doesn’t watching the little touches, the hands on shoulders, the hair ruffles, the slaps of the back that nearly send the smithy flying, just make his heart scream and fists clench with the desperate urge to punch the smithy in his smiling face.

Four just had to have it all, didn’t he? And the smithy doesn’t even realize it.

Legend excuses himself as soon as dinner is over.

He doesn’t make a big deal about it, is careful to smile and duck out when the others are all talking. It’s just all too much to stand and watch, and it hurts a part of him that he thought he’d numbed ages ago. So, the moment he gets out, a breathe of relief escapes into the night air around him.

He’s fine.

No really, he is. He’s fine.

Gnarled fingers catch old wood. The roof over the forge isn’t low, but it’s lower than the one in the house, and with the slope of it, so common in add-ons, it’s easy to hoist himself up onto the thatching, to settle back against weathered straw and stare up at the skies.

The night is a cool one, but any breeze there is exists in only a whisper, and he manages to not shiver against it as he lays, tracing constellations and finding long familiar ones.

Well, until he remembers how Uncle had been the one who’d taught him how to find them, then it’s ruined.

He’s not mad, he really isn’t.

But it does hurt.

It hurts like finding his parent’s house. Like knowing they were alive for years, that they weren’t dead like everyone said, or at least not when they’d said it. They’d been out there; lost, but thinking of him, and if he’d only come sooner, set out instead of lingering, innocent and clueless at home with Uncle, he might have had a chance to meet them.

Legend pushes himself up, arms wrapping around his knees as he stares to the stoney path that leads to the forge door.

Did he have his mother’s eyes? Before the dark world’s transformations changed their color for good? Did he get the pretty crystal blue from her? His father? Zelda has the same color as he used to; which parent did she get it from? They’re almost each others’ reflections, past scars and pain, the streaks of silver in her hair and the creases beneath his eyes. Life hasn’t been kind to either of them, but they had each other.

He wishes they’d had more.

He hasn’t been around as much as he wishes, but they’ve sat up and talked about it once or twice. What were they like- Zelda once mused into his arms- their parents? Was their father tall? Was their mother pretty? Do they have his nose? Which one had slender hands? Which one did the two of them get their sharp ears from? Who was the strong one?

And when the sun had set lower, and it’d been too dark in the keep for them to see each other anymore: would they have loved them? Would they be proud? Would their parents have looked at what they’ve done with their lives and smile? Would they be sad?

He’d never said it, kept it close, but tonight, staring up at the sky, Legend wonders if they would have understood.

Or maybe they would have been like Uncle, and the fate that got its claws into their children would have made them turn away in despair as well.

His throat hurts.

“Legend?”

The voice is soft, but it makes him start all the same. He hadn’t heard the door open at all, but there’s a shadow on the path below, framed in the light from the open cottage door.

Quickly, he runs a sleeve over his face. He hasn’t cried in a long time, but he checks just to be sure. After all, you can never be too cautious around other people. Especially adults.

“Vet?” the voice repeats, a tick of concern in it.

For a moment he debates just waiting for them to go in again and give up. He’s tired of people, and he doesn’t want to deal with whomever it is. He thinks it’s Twilight, that or Warriors, because the voice isn’t rough enough for Time, and the shadow is too tall for anyone else.

But after the time on the road that they’ve had, after he’s scolded Wild and Hyrule both for wandering off so often, he doesn’t exactly have the right to let the others worry. Not when he’s scolded so much for them doing the same.

“Up here,” it’s more sigh than call, drawn out reluctantly as he hunches forwards a bit further, chin settling on his folded arms.

The shadow on the path shifts. There’s the sound of everyone in the house still laughing and talking, but it fades as the door falls shut, the light and thus the shadow below disappearing with the noise.

He breathes again. They went in. He’s alone again.

He kind of wishes he wasn’t.

“You alright?”

So, he isn’t? Legend straightens, looking down below the thatching and catching sight of sideswept bangs and dark eyes. Twilight’s stare is shadowed, by his hair, the light, and some emotion the veteran can’t name, but it’s intense. If he hadn’t been fixed by it so many times before, it would make Legend squirm. It doesn’t though. He’s had the rancher up his tail enough before to be used to his stare. Scolding him for bullying Sky (he’d just been frustrated, but who even cared really?) for snarking back, or teasing Time. Twilight’s stare was on him almost the whole time he got turned into a rabbit, and while it wasn’t nearly as stern, it held a similar weight. Now it’s more similar to the night after that horrid battle with the shadow. Twilight’s eyes aren’t harsh or accusing, but there’s something warm in them for the brief moment he can see them before the man disappears beneath the awning.

Callused hands catch the beam at the edge of the rood, and it’s only a moment or so before the rancher is swinging up in front of him, puffing and grinning crookedly as midnight blue eyes catch his own. “Up for some company?”

He shrugs, but motions to the roof around him, settling further into his slump.

Twilight’s smile fades into a frown in moments. “Something bothering you?”

He shakes his head.

Dark brows draw low as the rancher swings up fully, crawling across the roof before settling at his side, heavy eyes fixed on him all the while. “What’s eating you?”

“Nothing,” he mumbles into his arms, but even as he says it, he knows Twilight won’t believe him.

The rancher’s hand lifts from the roof, hovering between them, uncertain.

Legend turns his stare back to the path below them. “’m just tired, rancher. ‘s fine.”

Heavy eyes scream disbelief more than words bother to utter.

Legend shifts, curling a bit tighter and setting his jaw, gaze fixing on the ground below. If he doesn’t look, Twilight’s pained stare can’t make him talk. If he doesn’t move, maybe Twilight too will give up and just walk away. It would make trying to sort his head out easier.

“Ledge, hey, talk to me.”

The rancher’s voice is so soft it physically hurts.

“You’ve been tense all evening, bunny-”

And that is just the breaking point because that’s Uncle’s pet name for him! He can’t help the way he turns, scowling, ready to hiss that Twilight cannot call him that, only to pause as predicted at the man’s heavy stare. Twilight looks all so familiarly pained, like he does when Wild’s struggling with his memories or Time’s being especially harsh. He’s never seen it directed at him though.

He's not sure what to do with it.

Dark hair sweeps forwards as the older man shifts, leaning against his own raised legs to mimic the veteran’s pose, stare heavy and seeking, but not expectant. “Did something happen?”

It takes a moment for him to remember to respond, but when he does he shakes his head quickly. Breaking eye contact helps, and he drops his gaze back to the path below, chin settling in the folds of his sleeves to stop him glancing back.

“Well somethings eating you.”

Not anything that’s the rancher’s business though.

“You’re not normally this quiet.”

That earns a look. A scowl that has Twilight chuckling, deep and throaty, shoulders shaking as the man turns glittering eyes back to the path.

Legend follows his gaze. There's nothing down there, but at least it’s something to look at. He needs that; if his mind doesn’t settle on something he just knows his thoughts will spiral out to places even he doesn’t recognize.

It’s quiet for a moment, only the deep sounds of Twilight’s breathing and the rustle of trees filling the air around them, and despite himself, Legend tunes himself to their sound, matching the rancher’s breath with his own until his heart slows a little in his chest and some of the knot that’s curled there loosens. It’s only then, as he matches the pace of the other, that Twilight breaks it to speak.

“Almost makes me miss home.”

“Ordon?” He’s not sure why he asked.

The rancher nods. “Yeah.” There’s another little chuckle, the shaking of the rancher’s head as he moves to lean back against his arms, eyes drifting upwards towards the sky. Legend tracks his stare, turned upwards to the Ancient Beast; the stars of its eyes twinkling extra bright against the expanse, as it stares down as though to meet it’s match. He huffs a little at the thought, silent, and turns back to stare at the path below them.

There’s a few stones missing on the left side, cracked and overgrown on the right.

It needs repair.

“I’ll bet Uli’s singing the baby to sleep right now,” the rancher muses, smile fond and lonesome. “Colin will have drifted off ages ago, and Rusl is probably still out in the forge, getting the last of the fall work done before the snow sets in.” The man hums, rolling his shoulders. “Goat kids’ll be nearly grown about now, ready for slaughter.”

Legend winces, and it earns another laugh from the man as sparkling eyes turn down to him again, grin still present but all too aware. “How about you? What will it be like at home for you?”

He debates answering, before at least deciding it’s not worth it to let Twi keep pushing. “The trees are probably ready for harvest. Orchard will be all full of fallen fruit right about now.”

“And?” the other man prods.

The veteran shrugs. “Fields are probably being cleared. I dunno, I’m not a farmer.”

“What is your family probably doing?”

Something sharp and bitter inside whispers ‘lying in graves’ but he keeps that to himself, instead answering “don’t have one.”

Again the soft smile fades, warm eyes all too pained, all too knowing, all too frustratingly warm as he sits and tries to ignore them. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s life.”

“So you have no one?”

Silence.

“Not even a friend somewhere, waiting for you to come home?”

He shrugs again, he’s not sure. Zelda is out there, but she knows he’s gone and won’t be expecting him back. Syrup and Irene might notice he’s gone, Gully will, but they won’t be waiting either. They all know he comes and goes like the autumn wind, there one moment and gone the next. It’s almost a saying back in Kakariko that if you see the hero you’d better catch him before he fades away, as there’s no telling where he is from day to day.

Seeing as there’s no place to linger for long, he doesn’t know what they expect.

Twilight twists around, gaze heavy and eyes sorrowful. “Is that what it is? Seeing Four at home?”

He huddles down a bit furtehr, as though the flinch off the blow the words deal.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” And it’s less question than it is sigh, the rancher turning back to the sky, pain still present in midnight blue, the stars dimming within. “When there’s no one at home waiting-”

“Do you have to rub it in?”

Twilight starts, flushes slightly and moves to rub at his neck. “Sorry.”

“It’s not the end of the world,” he mumbles into his sleeves, fingers gripping tight in dark folds. “’s just how things are. No point crying about it.”

“Makes things awful lonely though.”

As though Twilight needed to tell him.

Legend curls just a bit tighter into himself, eyes falling shut. It’s childish, but a part of him hopes that if he closes his eyes, Twilight will just go away and stop reminding him of it all. “Don’t you have a champion to be wrangling right about now?”

The thatch beneath them rustles, betraying some sort of movement from his companion, but this time he has the sense to keep his eyes shut as Twilight answers, has the sense to leave himself in the dark as to the look on the other man’s face, or what he’s doing. “Wild seemed pretty content to sit and listen to Time trying to out match Leon and Mister Smith.”

“And you weren’t content to stay with them?”

There’s a soft little hum and then “I wanted to be out here with you.”

What the actual-

“Why?”

“Because.” As though it’s the simplest thing in the world.

And it seems like to Twilight it must be, because when he lifts his face to stare at the man, bright eyes are turned up towards the sky, face peaceful and undisturbed, even as Legend stares in utter and complete confusion. He keeps staring too, waiting for Twilight to admit some real reason, or to look at him and laugh at him for believing the words, but the man doesn’t. Twilight just keeps watching the sky, gaze darting from one constellation to another until at last the man frowns, face creasing in confusion as he stares upwards.

Curious, Legend tries to follow his gaze. He has to edge a bit closer to the other man, but the flick of an ear is the only response to his motion, so that even when he's only a few inches away, there’s no complaint.

When he looks up, he sees the Holy Maiden cradling the moon in her arms.

“Four said there’s something round the moon,” it’s like Twi knows he’s looking too, although he knows there’s been nary a glance spared his way since last words were spoken. “but I can’t fathom what the heck it is.”

Legend huffs. “It’s the Holy Maiden.”

“The wha?” Twilight’s smile is almost infectuous.

He rolls his eyes, leaning a bit closer to trace the stars, showing the rancher how they mesh and weave into the image. “It’s Lolia, goddess of the Mirror World.” His hand falls, and it’s only then he realizes just how close he’s pressed himself to his brother’s side, Twilight’s gaze on him though stops him from shifting away, almost wary to move at all as the man watches. “She’s Hylia’s reflection.”

There’s a furrow in dark brows, but nothing said. Rather, an arm comes up around behind him, warm and solid against his back.

He's not sure what prompts him to continue, gaze trailing up to stare at the crescent cradled in star formed arms. “They say that when darkness first fell on the world, the people were afraid the world was ending, so Lolia crafted the moon to give them light and assurance, even on the longest and harshest of nights. They say she holds it up herself each night to give promise to her people, and whenever it’s light fades, she renews it so they’ll never be without.”

“Always just thought it was a big rock in the sky,” comes the answering hum.

Legend snorts.

The arm behind him shifts, lifting to settle around his shoulder and pull him closer as the rancher’s other hand points upwards, towards the Great Triangle. “What about that bunch over there.”

Laughter escapes him despite himself at the man’s incompetance. “You really were brough up human, huh?”

He’s expecting some scolding or huff, but Twilight just glances down, arching a brow expectantly.

Legend rolls his eyes and gives in. “it’s the Great Triangle, the stars that point the way to Hyrule Castle. Once upon a time, they say the Triforce was formed up there.”

~~~~~~~~~

#lu legend #lu twilight #ketto writes #asks and answers #linked universe #linkeduniverse #cantankerouscanuck my beloved #best wishes with you friend #i hope you find healing

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