Hello everyone! Happy holidays that I have missed... gulp. But, before we get into my hiatus. I would like to discuss something rather serious that has been brought to my attention today.
Recently a creator on Wattpad under the name @/shumi_ling has taken lines from my Tamsy fic "Shut Me Up," I would like to reiterate that I do NOT condone plagiarism of ANY of my fics.
Though, I do appreciate when those who come to my blog are inspired and take inspiration of an idea of mine and create works that way, however this post is to bring awareness to many other Gachiakuta x Reader authors as I've seen @blkkizzat's work being copied (see their post explaining), as well as mine and I'm just worried that they have stolen from many other creators as well. However, from as I’m writing this the entire book has been taken down.
Anyway, if you see work on wattpad that is eerily similar to the ones on here just know I did not post that, and I don't post on wattpad anymore, that was back in my angsty middle school days ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!. Furthermore, this person has responded to me and the issue has been settled but I don't want any hate mail or misconduct to flood their inbox.
authors note : this is my personal take on august, kinda out of character for some parts.
❀ he isnt shy about his relationship and will proudly talk about you with others, being rather dramatic and exaggerating often. he is naturally loud so expect to hear him down the hall.
❀ constant compliments -- "my muse, my lover, my masterpeice" "whoa, who gave you permission to look so damn fine?" "if i made something as half as good as you look right now, id retire."
❀ he is pretty touchy when you get more comfortable with him in the later stages in your relationship. from resting his chin on your head when you're reading to hugging you from behind and smothering you in kisses.
❀ he doesnt get jealous often, as he is confident and will only step in if he notices you getting uncomfortable or it crosses a line. he is pretty passive aggressive and puts his arm around you, making it clear you are taken.
❀ he may not get you flowers often, but he will make you clothes, gear, masks-- anything really! he will spend hours and then say, "oh this? nah its nothing."
❀ a cute detail he would do, embroidering your initials on his gloves.
❀ NEVER hurt his sister in any way. that will be an immediate deal breaker for him. depending on the severity he may not speak to you again. he is protective over the people he cares about, and if things remain well between you two he will become protective over you as well.
❀ he pulls all-nighters and getting him away from his work when he is "in the zone" is nearly impossible. if you cant sleep without him, you can saddle him and fall asleep on his shoulder. he will continue working and just as you're about to doze off, he suddenly yells, and scribbles faster. this, of course, makes you yelp in surprise and he apologizes, kissing your head. he may do this a few more times until you get so annoyed you pull him by his ear to bed.
❀ he sometimes skips meals so you may need to bring him some food or he'll forget. that being said, he doesnt like healthy food and you basically need to bribe him (or threaten) to eat something decently healthy. he will pout but if you eat is as well, he will do it to appease you. especially if its made by you, he doesnt want to upset you after you worked so hard for him-- so very reluctantly he will eat healthier food. although be prepared for him to act like someone is holding a gun to his head.
❀ he can be very teasing, and almost to the point of rage baiting. either way, he is happy he has your attention.
❀ if you're the type of person to grow shy or embrassed after sex, looking away or attempting to hide your body-- he tones it down a little, "hey, hey. dont hide. you're gorgeous." he will pull you close and trace lazy lines into your skin until you both fall asleep.
❀ he snores. not very loud, but enough that you will have to nudge him. he'll grumble half asleep,
"not now, babe. im resting my genius."
— when he wants you, he makes it obvious— lingering touches, a smirk that lasts a beat too long, that lazy confidence that says he already knows you’re thinking about him. he’ll lean in close while talking, voice dropping just enough to make your stomach twist, and pretend not to notice.
“you’re jumpy, babe. what, am I standing too close?”
𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 — August isn't sure if this is a gift from the Spherites or the fashion gods that he met you; either way, you're making the creative part in his brain go haywire.
warnings - August wants that cookie terribly, fem!reader, giver!reader (mentioned set instrument), reader is kinda mean @ first (dw August likes it), tension, August is all over the place… naturally, minor spoilers for Gachiakuta manga.
𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 - Hello, hello again! Sorry for the delay; this one’s for all my baby girls. I see your comments, ladies, and they make me smile. I’m lurking and stalking when you least expect it (please get the reference). But, I DO see all your notifications, and I am over the moon with the support. I don't know how many times I can thank you guys. But, I still am working on a pt. 2 for my Tamsy fic, but things are super slow since college 😮💨. So, please enjoy this August fic!
Word count (𝐰𝐜) - 1.7k words
You were quite literally the girl he had been dreaming of. His muse stepped from the pages of his sketchbook. Your features soften in the sun, glowing like shiny copper. You were ethereal. "Holy Divine," was August's only thought when he saw you. For the first time in his life, he was too stunned to speak. His wide gaze froze, unblinking, as he watched you filter through various fabrics just three feet away. The sun beat down harshly, and gusts of wind blew dust all around; still, he was frozen.
For a moment a tumbleweed passed between the two of you.
“What are you looking at?” Your voice was even perfect, he realized, as he listened to your cutting demand. Rather quickly, however, August was punched out of his daydream once his eyes met your own, which… seemed to be glaring lasers into him that could melt the plastic of his orange lenses.
“Huh?”
“Huh?” He hears you mimic his dumbfounded voice, your glare turning sharper, which makes your face scrunch cutely like a kitten's. A laugh burst from his throat at the comparison, but it died quickly on his lips seeing your glare turn into disgusted puzzlement.
He doesn't blame you for being, like, totally creeped out by some stranger staring bullets at you whilst trying to enjoy Canvas Town’s annual fabric and textile trade fair; if it were him, he’d be weirded out too!
That's a lie; he might not even have noticed because he’d already be knee-deep in a bin of precut fabric if he were being truthful.
What is this weirdo looking at? Was your first thought as you watched the slender blonde, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water? Hooking your finger at the arms of your sunglasses, bringing them down to rest at the tip of your nose, your eyes narrowed as you skimmed his profile under your scrutiny, you can see the tips of his ears turning beet red. “Do you know me or something?” You ask, uninterested, resuming your scavenge for material. You would be surprised if he did, but the way he's gawking at you like a sculptor studying a block of marble does interest you.
A sharp slap echoes through the air; your eyes widen, drawing your attention to the sound as you watch the man clutch his heart—his face scrunching in pain as your previous exasperation turns into pure panic. Because, you may be an asshole, but you aren't heartless.
“Hey, dude?! Are you—”
“A masterpiece! The very pinnacle of sartorial excellence!” August declared, rather loudly, as he threw his arms wide with a flourish, gesturing to you. He wasn't just saying that because your face was kissed by a goddess… though it was certainly a plus. But, because of your outfit.
Denim-on-denim that just enhanced the silken bronze of your complexion. Complemented with a fur-lined trim along the jacket and your jeans distressed with a flare toward the end, immediately drawing his gaze to your shoes. He first imagined was designer, but he does a double-take.
They're quite intricate in design, though. Seemingly designed to integrate a derringer dual pistol with the strappy gold heels with a reinforced steel toe cap, the barrel of the gun points forward, and the grip serves as your heel.
You’re a stone-cold fashionista.
Sprinting up, he’s about to yell before your manicured finger presses against his lips, instantly silencing him. August doesn't care; if anything, he's a bit too pleased that your nails are a glossy French tip, it's stubble, and it's a glamorous choice. He can't help but beam as he watches you with wide-eyed fascination; you would look perfect in leather. Studded belts and gold fill out your skin, but silver wouldn't dull it.
“You’re totally weirding me out, and I’m not a fan of that. So, you'd better say something fast, or I’ll be tempted to shoot you.”
So, the pistols were your jinki? He wasn't even sure if that was possible, considering firearms were ineffective against Trash Beasts, right? He's got to ask you about that. Spherites, his brain is working overtime as he regards your heels. You’re so confident, you could step on him like a bug… and he wouldn't mind that as long as he was able to get a low-angle shot of it.
“You, style icon, are frying my brain! Can't help but stare. You’ve got this aura that I need to capture. It’s the essence of a fierce, dapper spirit that must be intertwined into a gorgeous, indestructible design!" He angles his fingers in a camera motion as he examines your face, which is already immaculate.
“Whaaaaaat?” You drawl, stepping away from him as you raise a pointed brow. Your lips pout as you squint trying to pin down his erratic behavior. He reminds you of some kind of bee, fluttering about—reactively you swipe your hands around the air.
“Hell yeah! You heard me, gorgeous. You’re the wicked gal of my dreams who just magically became a reality. I can't let this chance pass me by!” His voice booms as he holds up a piece of cloth, shaking his head dramatically as he shucks it aside.
Okay, now you’re even more confused. Though you don't mind his compliments, they seem wildly thick. “Are you flirting with me?” You question.
August stops suddenly, letting go of a slice of velvet; the soft and smooth fabric slips from his hands as he snorts at your brazen claim. “Well, duh, little fashion killer, I absolutely am. But, right now a stitch is calling my name... Which is hard to follow if you keep staring at me with that stunning face of yours! Ya dig?" He’s already back to rooting through the fabric, muttering to himself. Once he picks up a sample, he examines it before putting it back.
This isn’t what you thought your morning would be like... at all. Originally after his own bold assertion, you planned on just leaving. You were definitely certain that this dude was a creep, but labeling yourself foolish, you were intrigued. Begrudgingly. As you walk skeptically behind him, long blonde hair rallies behind him, headbanging in time with the metal of his music, which is being ejected from his headphones.
You squint, sizing him up. You could take someone as willowy as him no sweat.
His body suddenly slides to a halt, forcing you to crash into him as you collide with his back. Your face rumpled in annoyance as you quickly pulled back, hands gripping his shoulders as you shook him. “Hey, watch it! I could've stepped on you!”
August follows in time with your vigorous grasp. A theatrical chuckle escapes his lips as the image conjures in his mind; he does really like it when you’re rude to him. Hopefully, that's just a sexual thing rather than some psychological defect.
August doesn't bother steadying himself as he loses himself in the cadence. He simply lets you shake him until you stop, at which point he spins around with a flourish, his goggles catching the sunlight.
“Well, that wouldn't be a total tragedy, doll, now would it?” he says, eyeing you playfully. His voice is loud and dramatic as he gestures at the two of you. “Just think of the poetry! A divine collision, the clashing of two beautiful forces, captured in one brilliant moment!” He places a hand to his heart in a show of performance art. "You are the perfect motivation for my next line of work!"
He leans in close, ignoring your exasperated expression, and whispers candidly, "You know... You really shouldn't be so rough with a genius. My creative sparks could get scrambled." He winks, then straightens up again, clapping his hands together. "Now, where was I? Oh, right! The perfect shade of royal blue to bring out your features..." He immediately begins walking again, leaving you stunned and even more flustered than before.
To your surprise, you walk behind him as he overflows with ebullience. You aren't sure why your interest has been so piqued, but it is, and it's ineffable. You lean against a rack slightly, watching him absorb himself in his craft. “I didn't say I’d be your model.” You
As he holds up another piece of velvet, you feel his eyes flicker to yours. He drapes the rich color over your shoulder, his fingertips lingering there.
A wide, confident grin spread across his face. "Don't worry, my little star," he declares, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "The velvet and I have already made the decision for you." He steps forward, not lingering any longer. Instead, moving with purpose, he drapes a different, even more striking piece of fabric over your shoulder—a romantic pink lace with an air of absolute certainty.
He taps your nose playfully with a roll of the velvety fabric, already eyeing another piece from his inventory. "Consider yourself the inspiration. It will be worth your time—I'm an artist, after all!"
You roll your eyes. “I don't even know your name—”
He feigns surprise, clutching his chest dramatically. "My name?" he suddenly shouted, his voice rising in volume. Then, he'd lean in conspiratorially, his goggles catching the light. "The name is Stilza. August Stilza, your future boyfriend too, to be precise. The one and only!" He followed up with a theatrical pose.
You do a double-take, your eyes widening as you snort at his boldness. “What?! No way, if you’re my future boyfriend, how come I’m suddenly meeting you now?” You raise your eyebrow skeptically, your lips curving into a smile despite yourself.
August leans into your space, seemingly unbothered by how close he physically is as he leans in further, the orange lenses of his goggles seeming to glint mischievously. Unfazed by your skepticism, his smile would become even wider, his eyes trailing to the glossy sheen of your lips before he pushes away, striking another dramatic pose.
"Ah, but that's what makes it so exciting, doesn't it?!" he exclaimed, one hand over his forehead as he pretends to swoon. "Fate is a temperamental artist! She loves a dramatic reveal! Today is not our final scene, my dear—it's the dramatic opening act of our masterpiece!"
With a wink, he continues, "Every great love story starts with a little disbelief. It’s what makes the happy ending so much sweeter. Besides," he adds, leaning in again, his voice dropping to a honeyed whisper, "how could I create your outfit for our wedding if I didn't get to meet you first?"
𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 — Where Zanka doesn't want to admit that he's missing you, because that’s totally average. But, this ache in his chest isn’t going to subside until he hears your voice again.
warnings - implied Cleaner!reader, gn!reader, Zanka is a certified yearner. established relationship! Zanka’s "southern" accent, praise, reader is a lil tease here and there, tiny second-hand embarrassment moment toward the end, slight spoilers for Gachiakuta manga.
𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 - Hi again! This is crazy; I did not expect to get so much notice for my Tamsy fic. Thank you so, so, so much! Your interactions mean the world. This is a quick drabble of 'tooth-rotting' fluff because literally I can't prove it yet, but Zanka is a certified yearner but tries to act tough about it. I know I was going to do an August fic (and I still am), but… @kanapods has been BULLYING me about a Zanka fic, so… Zanka lovers have won today.
Word count (𝐰𝐜) - 1.6k words
Zanka feels like such a loser. No, he is a loser. A pathetic one at that. There's no way he should be jealous of his partner; that's such an average thing to do. But he can't help it…
He knows you’re great. Beyond that, he doesn't want to classify you as a ‘genius’ with a natural-born greenness. But, as he's starting to tally up your pros and cons… all he's getting is pros. And it's bugging him; he could put down, ‘Always Away on Missions Alone.’ As a con, but immediately after, ‘Because you’re strong just by yourself.’ As a pro, then the list of pros would continue to grow from there.
He isn't sure if he's jealous because you’re so strong that you’re able to go on so many dangerous missions alone. Or, if he's jealous that people are seeing you and he isn't. It isn't the same without your head on his shoulders and your fingers skimming around the growing pains in his shoulders as he pulls you closer into his arms once you drift off.
Your constant absence is starting to be a problem. Which is a major con, and it's worse now that it’s causing a physical ache to grow in his chest. Like… a piece of him is missing. His eyes track to the familiar spot you huddle in, which is next to him. His fingers curl absently against the cold spot, moonlight peeking through the old curtains. Dust mites circled in the air as he huffed, rolling onto his back as he stared at the ceiling.
You were always right next to him. He sounds so ridiculous and uncool. That this feeling of yearning is so deep that if he saw another regular Joe doing it, he would physically cringe.
But, then again, no regular Joes had you. Just him, so technically that makes him better than the next guy. “Shit…” Zanka mumbles, scrubbing his hand over his face as he realizes what's wrong with him.
He isn’t jealous at all… He misses you.
Terribly.
“Dat’s so lame!” His outburst is loud as he throws his face into his pillow. A muffled yell of Rudo’s voice, probably telling him to be quiet. “Rude brat,” he grumbles as he lets his face fall back against the flat pillow, his ears tingling.
Buzz. Bzz.
“Zanka, are you there?”
A familiar voice echoes from his bracelet, static and all he can hear is you. A giddy smile bubbles to his face as he brings his arm up; shaking his head quickly, he forces his face to flatten. “What?” He speaks into his bracelet. He glances toward his alarm clock, which was unquestionably around the time you two usually check in with one another if the distance between you is greater than usual.
There's a beat of silence, and he's worried he sounded harsh. But he doesn't give time to let the silence settle. “Where are you?” The question leaves his mouth before he can second-guess it.
“South.” You answer simply and immediately; his jaw clenches slightly as he shifts onto his side.
“South?” He echoed, “Hell are you doing over there for?” He asked, his gaze falling onto the bracelet with bubbling annoyance, already guessing he wasn't going to like the answer.
You wait for a moment, lying on your side as you listen to the rustling on his end. “Mission took longer—” You hear him grumble something under his breath, and you almost snort at his reaction. “I’ll be back in the morning.” You offer hopefully to deter his growing frustration.
Zanka shakes his head, smoothing down a crease forming above his brow. “I leave in the morning; that brat’s got a mission we all have to go on.” He muttered, referring to Rudo. “Somethin' to do with the sphere…as always.” He grunted, shielding his eyes with his arm.
He hates this. When you get back, he leaves; when he finally comes back, you’re gone again.
“Zanka…” His eyes open, and for a moment he can see your visage, but he blinks away quickly once he glances at his bracelet again.
“What?” He asks, feeling a familiar weight of sleep clinging to his eyelids now that your soft voice wisps through his brain.
“Kiss me.”
Silence fills the air as he stares dumbfounded at the communicator. “What the hell did you say—” A bubble of your laughter swarms through his mind as he grits his teeth. “That isn’t fun—“
“I’m serious!” You suddenly cut him off, and you shuffle closer toward your bracelet, which lies next to you as you curl around it. You and Zanka were opposites; you had no problem admitting your affections for him. His were usually more reserved and quieter than your own. Which doesn't unsettle you. His love is like a soft breeze of air, clean air from what you can imagine it smells and feels like when not covered in filth from above.
“I know you want to.” You speak, a tease bubbling in your honeyed tone as you hear him sputter.
“Don’t be a scuzzball. How am I supposed to kiss you when you aren't here?” He asks, rather than bending to your tease. It’s a bit harder not to; you’re like a roaring ocean, just as beautiful and powerful, a loud and tumultuous force of nature that threatens to sweep him away.
You think about it slyly as you hum, shifting onto your back in the spare nursing room cot. “We can kiss the bracelet at the same time.”
He can feel the heat rushing to his face, his gaze darting anywhere except at his buzzing bracelet. “Dat’s dumb…” He whispered hoarsely as he curled into himself. He can feel the smile he's biting back curl. “Why’d ya want to do something so embarrassin'?” He whispered.
“Because I love you.” You answer honestly; you bite the inside of your cheek, looking away before letting your gaze linger toward the device. “And… I miss you.”
Zanka’s face exploded in color, his hands slapping down on his face as he tried scrubbing away his blush. “Fuck…” He groaned as he huffed; he couldn't believe he was cracking under just a phrase. “I… I miss you too.” He mumbles.
“You love me?” He hears the tease in your voice, and he almost drowns in your voice.
“Yeah…” He answers simply, his cheeks beet red as he smiles, leaning into his bracelet.
“I didn't hear you, Zanka.” You sang, your voice sugary as you drawled out the syllabus of his name.
“Yeah, yeah… I love you; I miss you too.” He admitted it, his voice bubbling over with such a need that humiliated him.
Behind the bracelet, you cheese, full lips stretching until they made your cheeks hurt. You bite down on your knuckle, gently tucking your knees to your chest as you roll around in the cot to dispute your thoughts.
“Hey, you there?” He huffed before he was quiet all of a sudden. “You heard me, right?” He whispered.
“Of course, I heard you. But it doesn't stop the fact that I still want to kiss you.” You admit softly.
Without missing a beat, Zanka sighs. “We wouldn't have to do this stupid crap if you just come home.” His frustrations shine through. And he presses his lips in a thin line. “Forget it, I don’t know what 'm saying.” He lies.
“You just really miss me, huh?” The smile in your tone is undeniable, and it makes Zanka roll his eyes, smiling to himself.
“Kinda hard not to when you have a cool partner who's always cleaning up trash beats by themselves.” He murmured begrudgingly, his eyes drooping as he closed them.
“I'm not that cool. Well, I am. But, you think having an even cooler boyfriend is easier? Who's always rash and reasonable during situations isn't making my heart ache either?” You ask with a playful counter, and a soft, breathless sound of his laughter makes you smile breezily.
“You can be such a pain.” Zanka sighed as his thumb absently stroked the spot where you usually lie on his bed.
“Yeah, but I'm your pain, so hurry and give me a goodnight kiss.” You demand, making Zanka groan. Another one of your 'bothersome' pros is being so hard-working to achieve your goals. He considers it for a moment before he groans.
“Fine, but I'm only doing this once.” He whispered, and he heard the static jump behind your end. He traces his fingers against the plastic of his bracelet, imagining it was the line of your jaw, the curve of your lips; he’d waited months to actually kiss you, rather than this pixelated one. But he can settle for it just this once until he sees you again.
His lips brush against the white receiver of his bracelet. It’s quick and simple; he would rather not debase himself by making out with this inanimate choker, imagining it were his partner. He misses you, yeah, but not so much that he can't hold onto his sanity.
“You’re so cute.” He hears you giggle, and the choker around his wrist feels warmer as he smiles.
“Oooooooo!!!” A chorus of awes erupts behind him, and he snaps his head in the direction of Riyo pretending to make out with herself as she turns around playfully holding her shirt, while Enjin laughs atrociously at his doorway. Worst of all, that damn brat is making this face as if he’s a weirdo. He could just die from how mortified he is.
“Get out of here!” He yells, throwing his pillow at his door, just as the three of them run off, Riyo and Enjin’s laughing ringing out as Zanka huffs, glaring pointedly at his choker as he grits his teeth. “How much of that did you hear…?” The sound of your own laughter is his answer enough.
Your friends pulled you inside the club, the strobe lights changed colors rapidly. The bass of the music made the floor shake under your heels. You couldn’t even recognize the song playing, your mind was elsewhere.
Your friends had dragged you out, because you spent the last two weeks sulking over your ex boyfriend. You mindlessly followed behind them, at this point you’d let them drag you to Antarctica and back if it meant getting your mind off of him.
Your best friend squealed pulling out her phone, by her wobbly movements you knew she was already tipsy. “Smile or sum girl you looking like someone killed your dog.” She then passed you a shot, “Hm, take this and loosen up.”
You took the shot from her, throwing your head back as the drink slid down your throat. You didn’t know if it was the placebo effect or not, but you swear you felt your body relax. Grabbing a couple of more shots, you downed those back to back. You cheesed, feeling your body become tranquil. You grabbed your friends hands looking at them with a dopey smile. “Let’s go dance!”
Sweaty Bodies mushed together on the dance floor, , the scent of alcohol and perfume filled your nose as you stumbled past the bodies. You were laughing and dancing with your friends, it felt like forever since you felt free.
The smile on your face never left as you breathed out, tired from dancing. You tapped your friend, whispering, “I’m about to take a break.” She nodded.. You giggled walking through the mass of people, trying to find a seat, a wall, or something.
You softly exhaled as your back hit the cold wall, pulling your phone out your purse. You regretted this decision, your ex had been blowing your phone up. A frown formed on your face as your fingers kept scrolling through the messages. He was calling you everything in the book opposite of a saint.
You shifted uncomfortably, pulling down your mini skirt, feeling exposed.
You felt a presence lingering next to you, looking over. Your body jerked a bit, he wasn’t there 5 minutes ago was he?
The tall boy was already staring down at you with pink eyes. “Hey there pretty lady.”
Your breath hitched, he was staring at you so intensely you thought your knees would buckle any moment now. Clearing your throat you muttered a quiet, “Hi” feeling too intimated to speak up. He scooched over closer to you now, letting you inhale his cologne, he leaned in so close you could feel his warm breath. It was minty with a hint of alcohol. The rasp of his voice combined sent shivers up your spine.
“Speak up, I need to hear your pretty voice.”
You repeated yourself, speaking louder like he asked. Unbeknownst to you he wore a tiny smirk on his face dropping it as he prepared his words. “I seen you dancing out there, you looked good from afar.”
You quirked an eyebrow up, “Afar? What about upclose?”
He looked you up and down, eyeing you like you were a piece of meat dangling in front of a lion. His voice dropped an octave or two, “You look even prettier up close.” You giggled looking up at him with
intoxicated, glossed eye’s. “Thank you…” You trailed off never receiving his name.
“Jabber. Jabber Wonger.”
He pushed himself off the wall holding a hand out towards you, “Come dance.” A simple demand, but his tone held weight, telling you that he had already decided your answer for you. You placed your hand in his hand, letting him guide you to the dance floor.
Your bodies were pushed up against one another, grinding to the flow of the music. The vibe had changed from your last time on the dance floor. Instead of upbeat and jumpy it was slow, sensual and intimate. You felt dazed, from the shots you downed earlier to Jabber’s presence alone.
His hand creeped up your neck, gripping firmly, but not hard enough to hurt you. Rubbing in circles with his thumb slowly as your bodies collided.
Jabber brought his neck into your exposed shoulder, biting and kissing it slowly as the two of you moved in sync. The music drowned out your small whines. Increasing the sensation, you felt like all you could do was submit, it felt too much, suffocating.
Jabber whispered, “Come with me.” You nodded, your body going with whatever he said, like he owned it.
| “please take me to places, that nobody, nobody knows.”
He pressed you up against the wall, holding your neck in his hand, tilting your head back. You were like putty in his hands, you closed your eyes as he poured the liquid down into your mouth. You swallowed it, feeling it burn the back of your throat.
Jabber let go of your neck for a second, the loss of warmth easing you out of your trance. He never broke eye contact with you, transforming his rings into his vital instrument. Almost laughing when you looked at him with wide eyes as he pricked himself drawing blood.
“W-what’s that?”
“A magician never reveals his tricks.”
| “i want someone, with secrets, that nobody, nobody, nobody knows”
His body slightly swayed adjusting to the toxin, he smiled down at you gliding those same fingers down your neck. You swore his smile grew wider when he felt your breath hitch. “You trust me?”
All you could do was mindlessly nod, your body finally fully submitting to him.
The poison filled claws pricked your neck, you let out a broken cry. Jabber captured your lips, swallowing your whines as the toxin flooded your veins. He pulled away, muttering sweet nothings into your ear with a sadistic smile.
I’ll treat you so good, I promise.
You look so pretty taking it all in for me.
So pretty, so perfect.
I love seeing you like this.
I love you y’know that?
Jabber held your soft face in his hands, lightly slapping your cheek, snapping you out of your trance.
He watched the blood trickle down your neck, slowly tilting your head to the side.
You felt his tongue slide against your neck, vibrating from his groans as he lapped up the blood. Your heart was pounding out of your chest and your brain was all fuzzy.
You felt like you’d just landed on cloud9, hypnotized by his movements, and secretly yearning for more.
He licked all the way up to your ear whispering,
“You’re mine now."
And all you could do was dumbly nod and lean into his body. Feeling cared for and wanted, hooked on the sensation of his so-called,
Love.
| “you got me hooked up on the feeling, you got me hanging from the ceiling, got me up so high I'm barely breathing.”
| “so don't let me, don't let me, don't let me, don't let me go.”
@kajismp3.! 🦇 ◟ | masterlist.
☠️ this was very different, lmk if it's bad or not PLEASE!
your theme is gorg it gives a cozy and welcoming feeling!
Omg!! Thank you so much, anon! I’m SO glad you think so (you should totally follow me and stick around forever now /hj), but that's what I was aiming for when creating my theme, so I'm happy you noticed!!! (Plus… I love Neapolitan color schemes.)
𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 — Where you hate Tamsy’s guts. The fact that you two have had a prior… back-and-forth, doesn't mean you’ll suddenly like your fellow Cleaner. You wish he would just shut up, though… regrettably, he's more adept at shutting you up in all the wrong ways.
warnings - 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢 𝟏𝟖+ porn (fingering) with plot. Tamsy & Reader are ‘something’ with benefits (they have violent tension), Cleaner!reader, gn!reader, female genitalia described, fingering(receiving), clit slapping, rope bondage, edging, implied dubcon, light degradation mixed with patronizing praise (it’s Tamsy), spoilers for Gachiakuta manga.
𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 - Hello, hello, and welcome! This is my first fic on this blog, so thanks so much for reading it, and it wouldn't have been possible without my editor and peer reviewer @kanapods, who literally read this and gave me enough encouragement to post it, so…here we are! Huge kudos and shoutouts to them, and I hope you enjoy the fic; more to come soon (thinking about an August one next)!
Word count (𝐰𝐜) - 4.5k words
It took Tamsy 2.5 seconds. One moment, you were on the ground rummaging through his things…within good reason…
Next, a violent yank sent you flailing midair, trying to swim through nothing as something coiled around your ankle. A familiar creak as his rope pulled taut, and in an instant, it bound your arms and legs. Leaving you hanging there, helpless and stretched out aloft.
Tamsy looked at your inconvenience, his index finger curled to rest against his chin as he cocked his head slightly. In his other hand, he held the wooden staff of Tokushin at his hip. Strands of navy blue yarn extend from the skein winder like elastic.
Dragging his gaze lazily across the cords that lead to your caught body, his eyes narrow with predatory interest that's borderline feline. The stubble flex of the muscles in the back of your thigh makes his grin lopsided in derision.
“Well, well, well…” He drawled, the hint of his amusement not lost on your ears nor your eyes, despite not being able to see him to know that familiar curl of his lips is gracing his features. Which only makes your annoyance grow despite the best efforts to subdue it.
“What do I have here?” He dragged the words out as he stared intently at the way the blue coils of rope tightened against the deep shades of mahogany skin. It suited you well and made you appear far more timeless and pliant than you previously were.
Catching his lidded gaze as he comes into your view, it burns your cheeks hot. Perhaps it was the embarrassment from being vulnerable under his sadistic inspection or the plain fact that you're caught up in his web. “What are you doing here?” You grit the words out.
His shoes click wordlessly in reply as he pauses at your waist. His eyes lingered on the skin of your wrist as your sleeves slumped down due to your position, dragging upward, swallowing you in his yellow pupilless eyes before he finally answered.
“Here?” He parrots your words sardonically. “I live here, obviously, little bird.” He mocks with candor as he smiles at you, which is less genuine than a ‘fuck you’ from a Raider, which feels more polite than this does.
Bastard.
It bothers you how much he succeeds in always getting under your skin, and it bothers you even more that you like it. Tamsy is a constant pain in your ass, and not only that, you've always been suspicious of his character.
“What were you doing in my room?” His voice cuts through your thoughts, twisting through your ears and pulling tight around your brain.
“Nothing.” You answer, distancing your gaze from him.
“Liar.” He cooed, taking his finger and coiling it around a piece of his blonde hair, rolling it around the pads of his fingers boredly. “Try again.”
“Excuse m—”
“Try. Again.” He interrupts, speaking more slowly as if you hadn't comprehended his request in the first place.
You glare into his eyes; they're like corrupted pieces of gold, once beautiful, now warped and menacing, and you feel a familiar heat crawl up your spine, coiling malevolently in your core and spreading to your legs.
Barking out a laugh, you scoff. “Fuck. You.” You delay your answer with crude words. You couldn't tell him you were looking for that damn book.
Tamsy’s smile curved as he stroked his thumb against his hairline, brushing against the scar on his face. “You get more adorable every time I see you, little bird.”
Adorable. The words are cemented deep in the crevices of your brain. He couldn't be serious, could he? Your stare slits as you watch him, his hair untied from that godawfully large bun, now cascading blonde and navy blue streaks over his shoulders.
His focus peers back to your concentration, catching your eye. Your fingers itch, and despite knowing it's futile, you try to wrench your body from the rope.
Charmed by your sudden exuberance, Tamsy steps back, making a show of admiring your foolish endeavors. As if wriggling like this is more amusing than anything else he's seen in ages, and it's true. He wasn't lying when he called you adorable; you occupied a good part of his thoughts. He'd even praise you for it if he weren't so certain you'd exploit that truth.
He watches the rope dig into your skin, leaving burns. He tuts; as much as he enjoyed watching you fail, that didn't mean he wanted to see you destroy yourself in the process.
With a flick of his wrist holding the Tokushin, your world spins, and your heart lurches. A navy thread snakes out, coiling sinuously around your forearms and snapping them behind your back. The sudden movement makes your heart lurch, and your knuckles press harshly against the small of your back. You lurch forward, pulled until his face is just inches from yours. Your breath catches in your throat, but before you can speak, more strings shoot out, snatching your shins. Your body is hoisted, your back arching delicately, as your world tips upside down.
“Ha. Ha. Ha," you say dryly, staring into the smug smile plastered on his lips.
His gaze lingers on you before tracking the spot he’d caught you snooping. The corner of his mouth ticks up, but there's no warmth in his eyes. He wasn't distracted; his so-called "cute nuisance" wasn't getting away with anything. He knew you were up to no good, and Tamsy would figure it out before the night was over. His eyes snap back to yours, pinning you in place. "I'll ask you again, dear." His fingers trace his distaff idly. "What were you doing in my room?"
You meet his gaze from your upside-down position, unflinching. His pleasant smile strains and thins at your audacity, and with a burst of sarcastic exasperation, he tosses his hands up in mock surrender.
“Fine, your loss. I was considering giving you an easy out.” He shrugs languidly as he closes the distance between you both further. “I know ways to make you talk to me, little bird.” His fingertips abruptly glide, cold and promising, over your thigh. You jerk against the ropes, which cut into you—instantly your face is hot with a feeling you won't dare name. “I’ve done it before; you know I can do it again.”
His words pull your brain into a haze, and you hate that he is right about that fact. “Fuck you,” you repeat, gaze snapping to where you feel the ropes dig against your skin the most. Each strand was meticulously pulled to keep you subdued, like a fly caught in a spider's web.
He purred, "Such foul language, little bird." His fingers spread and pressed against your pelvis, making you take a sharp, shuddering breath through your nose, his name leaving your lips as your back bows.
Grinding the heel of his palm against your lower abdomen, he watches you stifle sounds. “What’s this? Nothing else to spit at me? If I recall properly, you enjoyed this—" The words don't leave him fast enough to catch you craning your head up and spitting on him.
His eyes darken as he regards the liquid trailing down his cheek. Deliberately maintaining your gaze, his tongue flicks out, catching the spittle as he wets his lips. His smile hits you low, and your muscles coil tight before you can stop them. You try to shift your legs; a flicker of instinct sends your thighs clenching, but the movement dies. The rough ropes bite, a cruel reminder that your body is immobile.
Sphereites above, you loathed him sometimes. You squint at his appearance. You figured he’d be out longer, given this was a requested day off, but, like most of your theories, that came to him. This one was wrong. “Where’d you go?” You asked, tipping your chin in his direction.
“You aren't even going to apologize for spitting on me?” He asked curiously, his eyebrows raising as he wiped his thumb around the glossy remnants.
“You enjoyed it, I’m sure.” Your voice is louder, eyes glaring; as if on cue, he places his thumb against his lips, the tip of his tongue catching the remains of your saliva. It bristles you instantly as your face twists in disgust. The previous annoyance has melted, but the clipped edges remain. “I could get seriously injured if you keep me like this too long.” You remark, letting your head fall back to place.
“You enjoy it, I’m sure.” Tamsy mimicked your earlier retort, making you huff. You could only stare up at his face—a serene mask. He looks up, thinking about your question now. “However, since you must know. I went out. I bought a cake.” He stated simply.
Your gaze tries to find the cake he mentions, but as your eyes dart around his person and his desk, you find none. “I shared it with a friend.” He mused simply, grinning to himself as if there were some joke you didn't find.
“Ugh, what the shit, Tamsy—” It’s his turn to silence you; chilled palms rubbed soft, soothing circles along the exposed skin of your inner thighs as he felt the plushness beneath his fingers, his nails skimmed the edges of your skin, watching you shiver.
“Now, now. I answered your question, sweetheart. I think you should indulge me now; that’s fair, isn’t it?” He leans in, whispering against the shell of your ear, causing goosebumps to appear on your skin. He watches from his periphery the way you bite down on your lip, your eyes squeezing shut as your lips tremble. “Absolutely adorable…” He whispered, his lips skimming against your shoulder blade.
Your face heats up at his touch as you glance toward his bookshelf. Various worn covers peek out from the wooden shelf; most of them seem unimportant, but you’re sure that hiding in plain sight is the volume you want. You glance back at him, and he's already been staring at you—his gaze travels toward his bookshelf, and he hums.
“My, my, my. Was the little bird flying too close to the sun?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you as he looked down at you. Burying his fingers through the strands of your hair, he forces you to stare up at him. “Be good; I quite enjoy your company above anyone else. I’d hate for someone as precious as you to find yourself burned.” His words were cryptic as he sighed.
“You’d burn me?” You ask.
“Never.” He answers almost immediately, before his face wrinkles, annoyed at his own quickness. A flash of something indescribable passes against your eyes as if catching his sudden vulnerability, and he huffs. “Behave.”
“Make me.”
The words fall from your lips like the Holy Grail. It's Tamsy’s turn to shudder, but to the untrained eye, it looks as if he hadn't batted an eye at the bold statement.
“Little brat.” He grits despite himself; there's an enraptured smile forming on his lips. He tilts your chin up, his thumb traces the curve of your lip, dragging the plush flesh of your lower lip down slightly before he leans in. Your breath shortens as you take him in, granted… You were… are here for serious reasons, but he makes your head spin and your thoughts jumble.
You can never focus on your goal with him around, and it seems neither can he. He relishes your gasp as your lips briefly touch their air around you, lost in the polished amber of his gaze. You hadn't noticed his hand gliding beneath your waistband until you felt his fingers sliding against your heat, feeling the wetness there as he dipped his index finger to trail along your slit.
“You’re soaked, little bird.” He announced, pulling his hand away as he stared at his glistening finger, an amused puff leaving his lips, his gaze dropping to the fabric that covers your squirming body. Your arousal bubbles over as he stares at you. Tamsy knew you were right about one thing: you’d certainly get injured if he kept you suspended like this for long.
He makes a decisive tap of the Tokushin staff end to the ground; your body is weightless as gravity shifts, forcing the ropes to contort unyieldingly in your release; your head cocks back as you feel the soft presence of his shoulder cradling the back of your head.
Your gaze flickers up to him, then to your spread thighs. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch transfixed, your thighs itch to open wider—desperate for more than just his temptation. But admitting that means he’d win again. And you aren't in the business to see him pleased with that. So, you let your head fall back to rest against his shoulder, jaw working as you bite down on your tongue to suppress your need.
“You haven't complained yet, so I'm assuming you're trying to see how long you’ll last?” Tamsy teased, "The cold metal of his piercing makes your head spin."
“Will you shut up and put your fingers back in?” You blurt, and you hear him mutter something about it being just one finger—but it doesn't register as you feel his grip hoisting your thighs apart. His cold stare falls to the junction of your thighs while his lower right hand moves to the hem of your attire and takes hold of it. His eyes return to your heavy-lidded ones, and the fabric begins to lift.
Your sense of vulnerability causes your breathing to quicken, drawing in the thick scent of him. A wave of need crashes into you; watching his fingers slither back over you, the ropes against your body pull tighter as your shoulders twitch. You shiver and let out a soft whimper, instinctively trying to shift him closer. However, his grip on your thighs is a vise.
You watch as he slowly continues to pull your pants down, exposing your hips, then legs. His vision follows the movement with unwavering focus, eventually settling on your cunt. His gaze intensifies at the sight with unwavering interest. Pulling your underwear to the side, he watches as the wetness clings to the fabric before hooking his fingers against the damp cloth and pulling them aside.
“Deprived thing, aren’t you?” His voice is smooth as he runs his thumb along your slit. His index and middle fingers graze your wetness before he dips his fingers between your soaking folds.
You exhale with a soft whine.
Angled fingers nestle briefly inside; he drags them with leisure. In and out… the rhythm shocks your body in tandem. The first touch sends your spine jolting as you fight the urge to grind into his fingers; your knuckles curl against the rope digging into the small of your back.
Drenched in your slick, his fingers churn inside of you before withdrawing them—circling your clit in lazy circles. Tamsy watches your mouth fall agape, sadistic pride swirling in his chest. This wasn't a part of his plan, to have such a distraction as you. His nose brushes into the thick ringlets of your hair, breathing your scent in.
Arousal-coated fingers are guided back to you. Stretching you on your back, you lift your head from his shoulder to watch as he presses his fingers against your navel, then slowly drags them down to your folds, leaving a sticky trail behind.
He pauses there, his fingers poised against your entrance. Maintaining unbending eye contact. “Go on, beg me.”
Your mind races trying to pin down exactly what he said.
This wasn't supposed to be happening again; you were here for the Watchman book. You weren't here to—you don't even know what's happening anymore. But, you know it isn't supposed to happen.
His palm presses flat to your sensitive flesh as he slowly starts to press his middle finger in. Making your back arch, “Tamsy—” You quiver, and he coos at your tremble.
He slides his fingers in deep, filling your cunt completely. A cry breaks from your throat, and your forearms dig into your restraints. With bawled hands jerking to the rope for leverage, Tamay groans at the way you clench against his finger. He feels your head fall slack against his shoulder. “Little bird, I haven't even started yet and you’re already squeezing me.” He twists his finger playfully for emphasis. “Don’t tell me you are that desperate for my touch again?”
Asshole.
He still has time to make fun of you with his finger buried inside you? Of course he does. His thumb finds its way to your aching clit, and with one subtle swipe, your body reacts, hips fighting to snap up for more, though a feeble attempt to try his cords has you exactly where he wanted you. His eyes smolder at seeing you like this, unraveling for him. Yearning to be touched. And ironically enough, from the man you claim to hate.
“You’re so…” The words are lost on his tongue as his eyes find yours, half-lidded and salacious. Your eyes had always been a traitorous give. Tamsy leans in, breathing in your need as he feels you stiffen before melting into him. Easing you against him slowly, he feels the coiled spirals of your hair brush his forehead, nuzzling into him. “Tight. So tight for me, little bird.” He finishes his thought, the tease wavering into devotion.
Your gaze wavers to his lips; as if catching the cue, he leans further into you. His lips brush against your soft skin, against your own as you shudder. He's thought about kissing you again for months, and now it's happening, and Tamsy is going to savor it.
Cold metal touches your bottom lip, and tension coils in your body, shaking your shoulders. His lips press against your own, a tense, breathless kiss. Tentatively, you meet his tongue with yours, and for a moment you'd forgotten everything except the kiss, forgotten about his drenched fingertips poised at your entrance…
He snaps them in deep, filling your cunt again without hesitation.
A loud cry breaks from your throat, muffled against his lips, and you dig your restrained hands into the small of your back, the ropes creaking with your jerked movement. Your head wrenches back, your lips trembling, writhing against the stretch. Tamsy bites his cheek, containing his groan at how you feel around him. He lets out a breathless chuckle as he watches you, “Hush, now sweetheart… You're doing so well.”
He barely gives you time to adjust, letting you feel how his fingers fit into you before pulling out and pushing back in, back out, back in, back out.
Faster. Harder.
Your whines do little to curb his interest, if anything entertaining him further. His manic eyes swallow your scrunched face as he curls his fingers again; he continues driving into you, spearing you faster, setting a brutal pace.
The spectacle is so immense you feel like you’re drowning in it. In him. Your thighs tremble with the ropes coiling against the plush flesh, snapping them back in place. You whine from the ache, clamping and squeezing down on his fingers. You can hear the absurd sounds of your wetness squelching beneath his fingertips, making your ears ring and pulse around them.
Your hips buck against his curled fingers, struggling against your moans. Tamsy watches you choke on them. “Really? Fighting me still, little bird?” He grunts as he leans in. “No use in that regard. Let me hear you.” Your faces are so close, his nose almost touches yours as his intense scrutiny ravages your pleasured expression.
In an instant you rebel, shaking your head and jerking your head away. You can hear him audibly click his tongue as his closeness leaves you slightly. “Such a brat.” He forced an annoyed chuckle, punctuating the words as he drove his fingers in and out, making the burn turn into a raging inferno.
“S-Shut up,” you grunt, struggling to keep up and unable to hold his eyes any longer. You quickly turn your head away, your shallow breathing rapid as you try to contain your arousal.
“I’m getting bored with that line.” He scoffs; he looks down between your spread legs. “For a cleaner, you have poor manners.” He mentions enjoying seeing you seated.
Guiding his fingers back, he feels you flutter around them as he drags his knuckles through your folds, coating his fingers with your essence as he nudges your clit. The sensation makes you quiver as you try to arch your body into his touch, desperate for more.
“Fuck—” Catching you off guard as he pulled his hand back again, landing a smack to your slit as you cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Tamsy smiles cruelly. “I should shut that pretty little mouth of yours for good,” he purrs, dragging his thumb over your clit in dangerously slow and tight circles.
You're so close… You open your mouth, preparing for what you believe the relief of an orgasm would wash over you.
Tamsy pulls his fingers from your weeping sex, spreading them apart with his fingers so he can see the clear strings of your fluids connecting the pads of his fingers to you before he crudely slaps his hand down on your quivering pussy.
Immediately his index and middle fingertips find your clit, rubbing the pain away. He doesn’t waste time. He presses down on the pulsing nub, drawing slow, steady circles that have you crying.
“Tell me what you need,” his voice drops, becoming softer. “Use your words for me, angel.” The endearment is biting as you jerk against your restraints; your mind can't seem to function. Words bubble before fading on your tongue quickly, but the way he stares at you with a merciless fixation. He wants an answer.
“Wanna cum.” "Is all you say," breathlessly, a little unsure of yourself, and loathing the need in your tone.
“Oh? That's what you want. For me to make you cum?” He pesters, reveling in your desire as he grins with manic thrill; basking in the sight of you, he leans in closer. His head dipped down to get a better look at your crumbled pride. The way your eyes droop, glossy with tears, and your lips are bitten and bruised. “Could you be more helpless?” he mocks.
You hate him. It's annoying how he had this ability to have you completely at his mercy with the slightest of touches, your body caving completely with barely any contact.
You whined, fresh tears clinging to your lashes as you tried to close your thighs, the rope too tight. His fingers deliberately push your pelvis as he continues his movements, building up the pressure inside you.
Your hips twitch, trying to shift back and forth in tandem with the motion of his fingers.
He hummed, “That’s it, sweetheart. Show me how much you like that.”
Vexingly enough, his praise motivated you as your hips buck slightly, the pain of the rope exhilarating now. You nod eagerly, unable to form words, earning you a devious smile that makes you clench. His movements start to sway in sync with yours as he adds more pressure, fingers moving faster.
Low in your stomach, a warmth coils and constricts, tightening in anticipation.
With no warning, he gives your overstimulated clit another small swat that almost knocks you out but instead has you convulsing under him.
Your inner walls pulsate around nothing, your clit throbbing. Your head feels as if it were engulfed by the sea; disoriented, your head tips back as your restrained hands dig into your body with such intensity that your nails dig into the small of your back.
“D-don’t stop, don’t stop,” you babble, eyes rolling back as you grind your hips into his wet fingers.
“Desperate little whore,” he teased, nuzzling his face into your neck; his piercing grazes your clavicle. He licks away sweat that beads there, fingers working faster, strumming back and forth against your sensitive nub. Something wet splatters and drips onto the floor below you.
The sound of your wetness gushing onto him and you and to your inner thighs is so loud. You can hear him laughing at your descent, and your gaze snaps toward him. “Don’t look at me like that, sweetheart. If anything, you should thank me; you've been pent up,” he mumbles as he kisses below your ear.
“Fuck, I hate you!” You whine.
The pleasure you denied yourself for so long crashes down on you. On a deep guttural moan, your orgasm rips you apart violently as you choke against the sounds.
“Tamsy!” His name coming from your lips is depraved, and he responds with a low hum.
“I’m here, little bird,” he coos, observing how effortlessly you fall apart.
Your head spins, your hand tightens around the bind's nails digging into skin. As everything surges and rises, your cunt clenches.
He withdraws his fingers from your clit slowly, watching slick tendrils cling to him. He bites back a snort as he places his fingers flat on his palm, slightly nestling his knuckles against your quivering pussy. The way you throb and pulse for him makes his fingers clench as he watches you jerk into it, rolling your hips.
“So cute. See, you were just pent up.” His voice is saccharine and crude, which makes you grind harder against him. Mesmerized by your undulating hips, he starts rubbing his palm into the wet release pooling at your entrance.
You can’t stop moaning, can’t stop shaking. Both of your bodies writhe together, milking your release. Your breathing labored as his fan against your skin.
Slowly, your hips relax, his palm stops rubbing, and both of you become still.
Silence envelops his room, broken only by the sound of breathing.
“Shit.” You huff, your voice hoarse as your head falls back. His shoulder no longer buffers you; your back arches as your blood pools to your head. “What are you doing?” you pant, watching as he steps away from you and moves throughout his room.
His footsteps are wordless as he reaches for a familiar worn volume at his bookshelf, flipping through various pages before one he's grown accustomed to using peeks through. He glances at it before looking at you. “Nothing.” He lies, obviously.
Your eyes widen as you catch the upside-down logo, a set of two rings, the inner one branded by 3 circles, and the outer one by three triangles. You haul your head up. “You better not—” You threaten as he steps closer to you.
Maybe he's going to burn you a little bit. It isn't his fault that he has to do this to you; after all, you’re the one who flew too close to the sun. He's only protecting you from sticking your nose too far; besides, if he's planning on letting you get close, then he shouldn't allow it. He might as well keep you obedient. Many people do worse things for love; after all, his acts are… sensible.
i go by Coco, however you can call me any nicknames / handles you want as long as they aren’t crazy. i’m also a full time english-creative writing major with a psychology minor!
daily adventures : working a 9-5 (¬､¬), writing, reading, studying art history, shopping, journaling, cooking/baking
dislikes : waking up early, bullying, confrontation, a nonchalant mindset (I AM A FEELER), the economy
fav animes : nanbaka, dr. stone, castlevania, hell’s paradise, delicious in dungeon, jjba
artist rec : joji. leon thomas. mitski. yuna. frank ocean. julia wolf. megan thee stallion. beabadoobee. ravyn lenae. dev hynes.
currently watching : Gachiakuta ( ｡ •̀ ᴗ •́ ｡)
before you continue !! sooo, with that being said!! this is definitely just a downtime hobby whenever i get the chance to write something! furthermore i am super slow at replying; so future apologies if you reach out to me for tagging/tagged me and i haven’t responded feel free to rechat but keep the spam limited !! also i’m not totally aware online if i’ve offended you in someway, since — it’s online obvi but please message me if a joke like flew over your head so i can clarify because though you’re simply just reading this…ily and we’re all here for the same reason fanfic consumption of hot men/women and spreading creativity!!
current concern : l&ds has taken over my life and everywhere i see caleb like a ghost in my mirages
𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐬 : love and deepspace -> caleb + xavier. demon slayer -> rengoku + giyuu. dr. stone -> hyoga + ryusui. castlevania -> alucard + carmilla. delicious in dungeon -> laios + …senshi. csm -> quanxi + kishibe. haikyuu -> bokuto + kuroo + yachi. blue lock -> nagi + shido + eita. nanbaka -> uno + hajime. jjba -> weather report + dio + lisa lisa. jujutsu kaisen -> choso + nanami + ijichi.
not spoilers-free. though i know the basis of lore for fandoms curated toward this blog (l&ds being my most recent interest), i don’t mind being slightly guided or told about certain things! contains sfw and nsfw content— so be aware and pick your treat, i am not responsible for what you consume so please read the warnings !
this is my personal blog as well! so, if you see random thoughts and discussion posts just know this blog isn’t purely just about fics!
as discussed lightly before i am not always aware if i have personally offended someone via the internet — i want my blog to be a comfortable space for anyone and everyone so on the basis that you have been hurt by something i’ve said then please feel free to DM me and let me know ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧
𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓
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𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍
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𝐇𝐎𝐖/𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄
i only write character x reader
i tend to try and write ambiguously for reader unless specifically stated otherwise — regardless don’t be surprised if i cater toward more black reader inserts (given i’m black)
but i typically write in the third person while specifically avoiding the use of ‘y/n’!
please don’t rush me to write. i am a full time college student and i do this blog as a hobby! that doesn't mean i will leave you all in the dark either but I am sadly still an adult with my own personal life that still must be prioritized
i mainly write fluff, angst, comedy, and sometimes smut. i won’t write : child harm, extreme gore/torture, hate sex, period sex, poly, overly dark content (rape, incest, stepcest, HEAVY non/dubcon, etc), vulgar kinks (vomit, scat, piss, etc)
please do not ask me to write specific traits/attributes at random, this includes in comments in latest fanfics or any post — feel free to request this and i will decide if i want to write it or not!
i do not allow translations or reposts in other platforms such as wattpad or tiktok. UNLESS you were specifically given permission to do so by me
i will not age up characters for smut — personally! i just won’t do it. i’m not comfortable, so please do not ask if that’s something you want you just won’t find it here! do not interact or just block me, do not bring discourse about this to my ask box. i simply just won’t respond and block you
𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
spam liking without reblogging. i love that you’re liking my stuff, but as stated before i will be shadowbanned if it is to an excessive point. please reblog to show your support instead of liking!
leaving hate mail. nothing much to be said about this, but i don’t tolerate disrespect especially if i’ve been nothing but respectful in kind so this will immediately just be dealt with a block
plagiarists/plagiarism. self-explanatory i do not allow any copying, modifying, or translating of my works. if it is brought to my attention i will find you am i am coming for you.
a bigot, problematic individual, or instigating discourses. there’s no reason o just spread hate where you go, and i won’t tolerate it here so you will be blocked if i see you coming for me or any of the people who engage with my content
making me uncomfortable. i value my peace of mind so if i see you on my dashboard posting things that i personally don’t want to involve myself in i will simply just leave for the both of us
whew, well that’s it! thank you so much for reading, i know this is super long but i just want to establish rules and boundaries! obviously, this blog isn’t for you if you do not agree with the rules, so kindly see yourself out and have a pleasant scroll! if you stuck around this far PLEASEEEE send in your requests or if you have any further questions or unsure about certain topics i write, feel free to send me an ask, and stay for a while!! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡
Where you hate Tamsy’s guts. The fact that you two have had a prior… back-and-forth, doesn't mean you’ll suddenly like your fellow Cleaner. You wish he would just shut up, though… regrettably, he's more adept at shutting you up in all the wrong ways.
―୨୧⋆ ˚ Pixelated Kisses / Zanka Nijiku x Reader
Where Zanka doesn't want to admit that he's missing you, because that’s totally average. But, this ache in his chest isn’t going to subside until he hears your voice again.
―୨୧⋆ ˚ Fashion Killa / August Stilza x Reader
August isn't sure if this is a gift from the Spherites or the fashion gods that he met you; either way, you're making the creative part in his brain go haywire.
