#(This is going to replace the old Pinned post when I have a chance to edit it soon)

[koushirouizumi]

{Blog P.S.A} For New Followers

Where to Find Me: MY "ABOUT"+F.A.Q {READ FIRST}: Here (About) + Here (F.A.Q)! A.0.3: Hikari {Currently/Mainly creating for Digimon, Adventure-related franchise} Other Sideblogs: izzyizumi (main Digimon blog) hikari-m (official Digimon {news+art} archiving; Asks or follows may come from here, Depending) taichi-x-koushiro (Archiving for Yagami Taichi/Izumi Koushiro) IF YOU ARE A NEW FOLLOWER OR LURKER, I'd really appreciate if you can send me an Ask and introduce yourself (you do not need to expect a response from me), even a short description like name (Pennames are definitely fine!), preferred pronouns (if any) and/or what brought you to my page and what you're staying for (Especially if you were here for re-source{s} posts, I've been curious if they've been helping anyone!) The reason I am asking this is because lately there's been a huge uptick of spam blogs following with particular "patterns" to their Likes, Follows, etc. and in order to prevent from being soft-blocked by accident if you are not actively blogging, it'd be great to know in advance if you're a real person. Aside from A.0.3 the only other 'active' archives of social media that I have are my old Live-journal and Dream-width accounts, and even they're not quite in use these days. However, if you also have active LJs or DWs and actively blog, feel free to let me know too!

It’d be very, very cool if people could also learn to read my FAQ page linked on the sidebar before sending Asks or interacting directly with either of my blogs or myself, because I’m seriously TIRED of people ignoring it and my rules for interaction.

I am a {diagnosed since childhood} Autistic, G.N.C {Gender Non-conforming} + THEY/THEM Jewish blogger. I reblog about those topics here for that reason. {Also my Ko-fi is here.}

* PLEASE DO NOT FOLLOW OR INTERACT WITH ANY OF MY POSTS IF YOU BLATANTLY HATE/DISMISS, OR EXPECT ME TO HATE/DISMISS THE ADVENTURE [+02] + TRI + KIZUNA + 2020 CHOSEN, KOUSHIRO (*ANY KOUSHIRO, INCLUDES FOR EXAMPLE: TRI!KOUSHIRO, OWG!KOUSHIRO, 2020!KOUSHIRO, KIZUNA!KOUSHIRO), TAICHI (*ANY TAICHI, INCLUDING 2020!TAICHI, TRI!TAICHI, KIZUNA!TAICHI), DAISUKE MOTOMIYA (or “DAVIS”), SORA TAKENOUCHI (*INCLUDING 02!SORA, TRI!SORA, 2020!SORA, KIZUNA!SORA), HIKARI YAGAMI (*INCLUDING 02!HIKARI, TRI!HIKARI, KIZUNA!HIKARI, 2020!HIKARI), MIMI TACHIKAWA (*INCLUDING 02!MIMI, TRI!MIMI, KIZUNA!MIMI, 2020!MIMI), MIYAKO INOUE (*INCLUDING KIZUNA!MIYAKO), ALL/ANY OTHER DIGIMON GIRLS SUCH AS IZUMI ORIMOTO {FRONTIER}, JURI KATOU {TAMERS}, JUN MOTOMIYA {02}, OR MEIKO MOCHIZUKI. THANK YOU (I WILL PERMABLOCK IF YOU FORCE-INTERACT OR BLOCK EVADE)

* PLEASE DO NOT FOLLOW OR INTERACT IF YOU CAN’T STAND MY SHIPS TO THE POINT YOU CAN’T EVEN BE RESPECTFUL WHEN INTERACTING WITH SOMEONE WHO SHIPS YOUR NOTP. (I WILL PERMABLOCK YOU IF I NOTICE)

** THESE RULES ALSO APPLY TO MY OTHER BLOG.

*** DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU SUPPORT HARASSMENT / BULLYING / ABUSE (I WILL INSTANTLY PERMA-BLOCK YOU) OR IF YOU SUPPORT / PLATFORM PEOPLE WHO DO.

NOTICE: I am much less active on a personal level on this blog nowadays (in the sense of making personal posts or fan-works/posting fic; I still reblog informative posts). I am slightly more active on my other socials, but most of them are private and friends-locked to older groups of mutuals. If you are curious or wanting to interact about Digimon (especially Adventures or about my favorite characters and ships for this fandom) specifically, please feel free to message me about them, but please understand I may not add or speak with anyone that I do not fully trust or know well. (It will help if most of your stances on social-justice issues align with and don’t blatantly conflict with my own. I tend to not add/follow people anywhere whose posts I cannot filter [i.e. there are many popular Western media fandoms / mega-fandoms I’m not in which I blacklist, types of fanworks I don’t personally care for that I blacklist, etc]. I do not do follow-backs so please do not follow or interact here expecting one). It will also help if you read my FAQ first and agree to it before asking.

PLEASE FAMILIARIZE YOURSELF WITH MY FANDOMS LIST (notably more the major fandoms but) BEFORE YOU INTERACT WITH ANY POST ON THIS BLOG. If I check/quick-vet your blog and find nothing but hate{watching} posts/“Critical” posts for my fandoms (ESPECIALLY THIS ONE), unless I’ve reblogged from you first, I MAY HARDBLOCK YOU.

[rehfan]

So there was a post a while back…. and I wrote a thing from it. Can’t find the post, but here’s the finished product:

If Walls Could Talk

Words: Chapter 1: 1,172 — Chapter 2: 1,989 — Whole Work: 9.4K — ONLY THE FIRST 2 CHAPTERS POSTED HERE. CLICK HERE FOR THE WHOLE WORK.

Eddie Munson X Fem!Reader/AFAB!Reader

Summary: Eddie Munson is your new roommate and things have been going well enough - until your hormones get the best of you one night… and Eddie hears it all.

Warnings: Under 18 DNI — get out now! Not for you! Evesdropping on intimate things; masturbation; vaginal fingering; cunnilingus; mutual masturbation; mutual pining; dirty talk; slight non-con; multiple orgasms; nipple play; motorboating; cowgirl position; PIV sex; orgasm delay/denial; anal sex; unprotected sex - DO NOT DO THIS; spanking

****DO NOT POST MY WORKS TO ANY OTHER SITE — YOU DO NOT HAVE MY PERMISSION*****

CHAPTER 1

It wasn’t as though you hadn’t had a roommate before - or even a guy as a roommate - but you had never had Eddie Munson as one and your hormones never stood a chance.

Your old roommate switched colleges and moved out beginning of last summer. You were kind of desperate to make rent and you mentioned this to anyone who would listen in the vague hope that they would know someone you could at least have coffee with in order to judge if they were going to be a good fit. You spoke to everyone you liked and trusted - including your mechanic. The owner of the shop, Larry, had known you forever because your family had been customers practically since he opened his doors in ‘72.

“Hey, I think I may know someone. Wait here,” he said, holding a finger up at your before exiting the small office and disappearing through the door at the back leading to the car bays.

He was only gone a few minutes before returning with a smile and a question: “You mind a male as a roommate?”

You shrugged. Not against the idea, you asked him to give you more information.

“You went to Hawkins High, right?”

“Sure.”

“You remember Eddie Munson?”

You did. You hadn’t thought about him in two years - not since you both graduated and you went off to college. When you made that change, you determined to leave your immaturity behind. Including your senseless crushes on unattainable metalheads from high school. He was the best human. So expressive. So brave to just be himself, reputations be damned. You were too busy keeping your head down in school to figure out who the hell you were. You saved your self-exploration for college. But Eddie didn’t wait. He lived his life out loud and you were envious and enamored at the same time. But you never told him how much you admired him. And after graduation, you never thought you would get the chance; you thought he was gone from your life forever.

A chuckle escaped your lips when you recalled Eddie flipping the principal the bird after snatching his diploma.

“Is he as irreverent now as he was then?” you asked.

Larry shrugged. “He’s a great worker. Always here on time. Works his shift. Works hard. Plays harder. Good candidate, you think?”

You nodded and asked to speak to him. As you waited for him to get a free moment, you wondered what he would look like. Would he still have the long hair and wear that vest with the pins and patches over the leather jacket? He would probably still listen to the same music - clinging desperately to his heavy metal even with the advent of that new stuff coming out of Seattle.

The door opened once more and there he was: his hair was still long, but pushed back in a bandana and secured by an elastic hair band into a ponytail. The wallet chain, denim vest, and leather jacket of your memory were missing, replaced with a grease-stained jumpsuit with his name embroidered on a patch above the left breast pocket, but it was still the same old Eddie. You had forgotten how completely handsome he was.

He stared at you for a moment and within the span of it, you thought he was going to turn tail and run, his widened eyes betraying what appeared to be fear, but his features relaxed and he smiled easily, recalling your name and greeting you with a wide smile.

“I hear you’re looking for a new roommate,” he said. “I’m ready to move out of where I’ve been and need a place to land. You want to talk?”

You arranged to meet at a local diner when he got off his shift. It was several hours before that time and you were nervous as hell by the time you scooted yourself into the booth and waited the few minutes it would take until his arrival.

And what an arrival. A motorcycle pulled up and that rockstar look from high school was back, only he wore a bomber jacket nowadays. As soon as he pulled off his helmet and shook out that mane of hair, you knew you were a goner. Was he really the one you were considering for a roommate? Your only thought as he strolled toward you with an ease that made you salivate, was would he at least remember to clean up after himself?

Oh who were you fooling? You knew you’d do it. You knew it like you knew he would smell like mechanic’s soap and cigarettes as he slid into the booth seat opposite you and smiled that dimpled grin.

Oh you were seriously a goner. Send the flowers to the funeral home, you were dead meat. And he was charming. He was all smiles and reminiscing and jokes and laughter. Conversely, he took finances pretty seriously. He came from nothing and knew the value of a dollar. He wasn’t about to screw you over for rent or any of the shared utilities. It was refreshing to have such a frank discussion.

It took exactly one burger and one milkshake later for you both to decide that this would work out. You gave him your address and left the diner floating on air. Housekeeping wasn’t something you enjoyed, but cleaning the spare room became your favorite task. You wiped the windows and sills, made sure the vacuum was run over the carpet, checked the closet for any detritus from the last inhabitant - there was none - and shifted the bed to make certain nothing was underneath. You wanted everything to be perfect for him.

It was halfway through this that it occurred to you that he was his own man and had his own life to lead. Just because you were roommates didn’t mean he was into you; it just meant that you were sharing living space and bills. It was a mutual agreement, not an invitation for a romp in the hay with him. Who knows how many women had gotten weak in the knees when he flashed those dimples? Who knew if he would plan on bringing any of them home? To your home? Under your roof? Where you could hear them both through the walls as he was no-doubt an aggressive lover.

All of this occurred to you as you stood in the middle of the naked room regarding the queen mattress box spring and bed frame that seemed to stare back at you with the sounds of future fucking echoing in the room.

You moved the bed against the far wall opposite to the one you shared. You didn’t want the torture of hearing the girl losing her shit as well as the thump-thump-thump against the wall that would inevitably happen. Once done, you left the room as quickly as you could, shutting the door behind you.

This couldn’t be the best decision you’ve ever made, but at least the bills would be paid.

CHAPTER 2

Two weeks after Eddie moved in, things were getting into a routine you could both live with. You would leave for work about the same time. Breakfast was like a dance in the kitchen between him wolfing down cereal and you making toast and tea. He would sometimes cook enough eggs for the two of you and you would make packed lunches for you both. He would take out the garbage, you would sort through the morning’s mail. In the evening, dinner would be coordinated by phone call or sorted out once you two got home. You weren’t picky and neither was Eddie. Weekends were spent doing your own things, so far.

Eddie had left the house early that Saturday morning, saying something about his Uncle Wayne needing his help fixing up his trailer and that he probably wouldn’t be home until late. You had a few errands to run - including getting your hair done - and so you were cool with his plans. He winked at you as he left and you smiled, embarrassed that he could embarrass you with such a simple gesture.

The first morning he had spent in the apartment, he had wandered into the kitchen in just his boxers. His tattoos had been on full display and you had forced yourself to look away and focus on putting sugar in your tea. This morning had been no different; he had stooped to see where the orange juice was and you had enjoyed the curve of his ass from the relative safety of the opposite side of the kitchen island. You wanted to lick the valley of his spine and bite the nape of his neck.

The thought of him was becoming a problem. The hairstylist had to call your name twice to get you to come wash out your color. The lady at the check out asked you “paper or plastic” twice before you snapped out of it. It was as if you were living in a dream world with only minor intrusions of real life invading your thoughts. And your thoughts were lovely, filled with heavy breathing and bold declarations and passionate kisses and deep, rutting thrusts into your core.

The book you had taken with you to the hair appointment - the one in which you had read the same line five times before giving up - had a word in it: Torpor. It was a wonderful word. It meant a state of mental and motor inactivity with partial or total insensibility. You had never been to the brink of senselessness like that with a man. You wanted to be that way with Eddie. As you felt the hairdresser massage your scalp over and over, you wondered if he were the man for the job.

“Shall we go for something different? Or should we just trim the ends?” she asked you.

“You know? Let’s do something else. The cut I have I’m sick of. Can we go more… Pat Benatar? Or maybe Joan Jett? I’m sick of… whatever the hell this is.”

“Ohhh… Joan Jett. Definitely,” she said, eyes alight. “You’ve got the bone structure to pull it off.”

“Go for it,” you agreed. It was only hair after all. What the hell.

When you got home, you used the toilet and glanced at yourself in the mirror as you washed your hands. Yeah. This was definitely a change for you. And you loved the shit out of it. You felt confident, sexy, desirable. Maybe you’d ring your friends and hit a bar or two tonight. You needed a release.

Plans were set. You picked out a plain black mini-skirt you hadn’t worn in a hot minute and thigh-high stockings with black pumps. You topped it off with a fuzzy baby pink half-sweater with a low scoop neck that showed off the girls as well as just an inch or two of your belly, but you didn’t care. Three silver rings on your fingers, a black choker necklace around your neck, and a smokey eye with a pink glossy lip finished off the look. You drank two full cups of milk to coat your stomach against all the tequila you were going to drink and headed out with your three closest friends for a night out you had deserved for quite some time.

It was after two am by the time you got in. You crept in, not wanting to wake Eddie if you could help it. Turns out, you didn’t have to worry. He was up watching a scary movie on TV. You hated horror films and said hi and bye to him as he looked over at you, eyes wide and mouth open.

Yeah, Eddie. Eat your fucking heart out, loverboy. You could have this, but you don’t want it do you? I’m just the roommate.

You walked away slowly down the hall just to make him drool.

In truth, it was you who was drooling. He was soft tonight. A henley that you knew felt like heaven as you had folded it for him once. Gray sweatpants and white socks. He looked snuggly and was probably warm. He probably smelled like that cedar cologne he wore and cigarettes. He probably tasted like mint candy. He would probably feel heavy on top of you, skin against skin, moaning into each other’s mouths, keening when he touched your clit with his hands, his tongue, his cock.

Jesus, you needed the release of cumming. You stood in front of your full-length mirror and slowly touched your breasts over your clothes, pushing them together, cupping them and holding them out to his imagined mouth. That mouth that sucked up spaghetti like he was auditioning for a porno. A mouth that smirked and pouted and made you want to nibble it to hurt it and lick at it to soothe it. You wanted it against your skin.

You moved to your bed, backing away slowly, your eyes on your reflection as you stripped for him, as you let yourself fall apart for him. The haze of the alcohol was warm in your brain as your breasts fell from your bra, nipples instantly at attention in the cool of the room. You held the flesh of them up, head tilted to one side and you bit your lip.

“Do you like them, Eddie? Are they pretty? Wanna lick them like ice cream cones, doncha?” you said, a husky whisper falling into giggles as you thought of the shocked look on his face in the living room earlier. No doubt the same shocked look would grace his face if you ever did this to him. Your thumb slipped under your skirt, one hand finding the zipper on the side. It fell to the floor and pooled at your feet.

You stood before the mirror and admired the view. Breasts on display, panties the color of summer sky, and thigh-high stockings finished off with black pumps. One forward fold of your body and your panties were gone. “You like me like this, Eds? Just my stockings and heels? Everything else on display? Just for you? Hmm?”

“Come on,” you said to him. The Eddie in your mind came up behind you and cupped your breasts for you. “You know you want more, don’t you, Eddie?”

One of your hands coasted down your skin, cupping your sex and running a finger between your folds. You were soaked but that was no surprise. What did surprise you was your boldness in staring yourself down in the mirror while you did it. Normally, the lights were out and you were under the covers or it was the first thing in the morning after waking from a particularly excellent dream; you never looked at yourself, admired your figure in the mirror, watched your fingers work your bud and your mouth hang open. You sat on the end of your bed and watched yourself rub your clit and squeeze your nipple with your free hand, legs spread wide.

“Filthy boy wants to watch me fuck myself for him? Right here? Wants to watch me finger my pussy? Okay, naughty boy. Look at it. It’s all for you, Eddie. All yours.” Leaning back on one hand, you worked your clit, dipping down to your hole and back up again, flicking across your clit, your slick dripping as you could feel him staring at you. Drooling for you. Only you.

You pictured his filthy mechanic’s hands on your thighs, dipping down for a better look. Spreading you wider. Swallowing hard taking in the view. You fell back against the bed. Closing your eyes, you could feel him there panting, the want coming off of him in waves, translating into your fingers that moved inside you as you moaned his name low and long, breath catching causing you to gasp.

The curl of heat in your belly was getting tighter as you worked. His smile was wicked in the low lamplight of your room. “Need your cock, Eddie. Need it so bad. Do you want to put it in me? Tell me you need it.”

“Always need you. Needed you since the first second I saw you tonight. And look at you now: falling apart for me and I’m not even doing anything.” You could feel his hot breath against your legs as he whispered to you and you whimpered. “Come on, angel. You can do better than that. I want you to say it.”

“Give me your cock, Eds. Need every inch. Wanna feel the stretch. Only you can give me that. Come on, Eds. Please,” you moaned. Your fingers worked inside yourself, the sensation pleasurable, but not enough; the angle was wrong, your fingers too short.

Dammit.

You worked your clit again. The urge to cum was right there. You wished it could last longer, that you had a dildo or something to help you along and stretch the feeling out, to help you feel full and give you something to bounce on, but this was it. You had to be satisfied with that and with the look you were imagining was on Eddie’s face knowing that all this effort was just for him.

“Can’t get off without me, can you? Poor little baby. Need my cock, honey?”

“Yeah, Eds. I need your cock. M’gonna cum, but still want you inside me. You are so fucking hot. ‘Specially in the morning. Always want to kiss your neck in the morning. Lick your skin. Smell you. Feel your warmth. Always want to curl into you on the couch too. You always look so soft. Even when you come home filthy; want to get in the shower with you and scrub you clean. Want to watch the soapy bubbles glide down your skin. Want to wash your hair. You want me to wash you, baby?”

“Oh sweetheart, that sounds like heaven.”

“Want to kiss you every second of every day.” You gasped as your orgasm drew closer, fingers working faster over your tight bundle of nerves. You pictured his mouth on you in the deepest slowest kiss you could imagine. His mouth was amazing. Obscene. Perfect.

You moaned his name as your orgasm crashed over you. Your back arched, heels digging into the mattress. You rode it for as long as you could, willing it to last. Your thighs closed and your rolled on your side, resting, your brain wondering how tender Eddie would be at aftercare. You pictured soothing caresses and small kisses and whispered words praising your efforts.

Good girl.

Sweet girl.

You did so well.

You looked so hot.

You did all that for me?

God, I’m lucky.

It was several minutes before you recovered enough to get your stockings and shoes off and threw on some comfy bedclothes, scuffling up the duvet around you and collapsing into a sleep that involved cuddling into the warmth of one Edward Munson, mechanic, roommate, and source of delicious orgasms.

********************************

Want the rest? Go to AO3 HERE.

Tagged readers: @ali-r3n / @faithm120601 / @chickensinrainboots / @silky-luxe / @harrys-tittie / @h-ness1944

[chiko-akihari]

Day 3 + 4: Old OC + Redesign

Decided to group these together since it's been years since I've touched her design 🥹 I still need to flesh out her robe but that's a problem for future me. Also Tumblr posts are so much slower than Twitter for fairly obvious reasons. If you want to see mostly the arts feel free to check out my twitter! I'm still a few days late but I'm not as late :')

Please welcome Sarc Saffrols, an Illusion Wizard and my first ever DnD PC! Her story is a few years old and fairly outdated, but i did try to patch it up the best i can for the dnd campaign rerun

Story

Born a tiefling, she stumbled into the material plane and got adopted by a kindly wizard librarian. During her lifetime, she lives to see the hatred towards non-humans and non-elves spread from the capital city to the small town of Mildmourn. This rising tension eventually exploded into razing flames that engulfed the library and the entire town. Ever since, Sarc has been on the run, using her magic to survive day by day in the hopes she can get enough money/support to bring back the lost librarian.

However, life has other plans for her. An unstable portal spawning under her feet pulled her into a completely new world, with entirely new problems. Here, she eventually become a nation's hero after multiple world threatening operations along with her newfound companions. Despite this, she is stuck in this new world, unable to fulfill her one goal. Worse, a past she didn't know about finally hunted her down, and she has to face the consequences of her actions (?).

...Before she was a tiefling, Sarc was a creation of the God of Light. When the God disappeared, she was appointed to be a replacement due to her partial relation to Light. Locked in the gilded greenhouse, she slowly grew bored of her 'job'. One day, she sneaked out, shed her immortal skin for a chance to live a more exciting life. Unbeknownst to her, her actions left the elements in disarray and led to the eventual destruction of the world.

Design

Sarc's design has undergone a few changes to match her character advancement and story plot. Her original outfit is scrappy and mismatched, consisting of whatever she could salvage or get her hands on. Despite having illusory magic to temporarily hide her horns, she sawed it down, hiding it underneath the hat for her own safety.

Her second design is after some times in Nyamene (the new world), once she has some good money to tailor a good outfit. She still kept the robe and the rose brooch - the only 'heirlooms' she had. Her outfit was tailored around the robe, and she got some more rose pins to decorate herself with. She also grew back her horns (with help from Regeneration), and showed more of her tiefling features in general.

Her final design (tbd) will be after she confronts her past and mistakes. The outfit change reflects her changing beliefs and goals, going from resurrecting her adoptive mother to fixing the problems she caused. On a meta level, I wanted to redesign her to give her a more fitting design for a level 20 wizard. I'm mostly proud of the hat! She'll no longer have to have horn holes on the brim, and it solves countless problems for me.

[lifeless-v5]

We all whipped our heads towards the stage. We looked at the podium, confused, when suddenly-

???: Upupupu…

???: Monokuma appears!

Jimmy yelped and fell off the stage when the stuffed bear appeared on top of the podium. I offered him my hand and he pulled himself up.

Joel: What the hell?!

Ren: What is that infernal thing?!

Pearl: Is that a… teddy bear?

???: I’m no teddy bear! I’m Monokuma!

Martyn: That- huh?

Monokuma: I’m your headmaster! I’m here to make sure you all live your school life to the fullest!

Tango: Woah. The robotics in that thing have got to be incredible. Hey, can I take you apart and see them?

Monokuma: No way! Violence against the headmaster is strictly forbidden!

Skizz: This is some kind of joke, right? It’s gotta be!

Impulse: I’m sure it’s just an elaborate prank. Probably the school’s doing.

Scott: I’m sure you’re right.

Monokuma: Upupu… tell yourselves whatever you’d like. But do it quietly! I’ve got some important announcements!

Martyn: …Announcements?

Monokuma: The first of which is… this school is to be your entire world. For the remainder of the foreseeable future, you will live in this academy. Leaving is strictly forbidden.

Pearl: Yeah, it’s a prank.

Cleo: Stupidest prank I’ve ever seen. Did they really think we would believe this?

Jimmy: I don’t know… I have a bad feeling.

Skizz: What, you think we’re actually trapped here?

Monokuma: Go check the exit for yourself, if you really don’t believe me. But wait till I finish my announcements.

Joel: Get on with it, then.

Monokuma: Rodger that! My second announcement is that as soon as this assembly is finished, you will all be starting the killing school life!

Lizzie: Oh my… killing school life?

Bdubs: Hell’s the killing school life?

Monokuma: Well, I told you you’re to be living the rest of your lives at this academy, riight? Well, I can’t imagine that’s something you all are enthusiastic about.

Tango: No duh.

Monokuma: If you want to leave here, it’s fairly simple. All you have to do is kill.

Ren: Kill?! What on earth are you saying?!

Monokuma: I’m saying, kill.

Monokuma: Stabbing, strangling, bludgeoning, poisoning… maybe even drowning or electrocution! Any method is fine, as long as you get the job done.

Bigb: That- that’s awful!

Etho: It’s ridiculous.

Skizz: Yeah! Even if this is real, there’s no way we’d kill each other!

Pearl: Yeah! That’s right!

Grian: It does seem unlikely…

Scar: It’s completely preposterous!

Monokuma: Upupupu… preposterous it may be, but the only way to leave here is to participate in this killing game. Are you sure you’re content with never seeing your friends and family again?

Scott: You- you’re sick.

Grian: He may be sick, but he is unfortunately right. There is a non-zero chance of someone getting killed.

Cleo: Don’t say stuff like that.

Martyn: …Hey, Monokuma, I’ve got a question.

Monokuma: Shoot!

Martyn: Is that really it? We just- kill someone, and… leave? No catch?

Monokuma: You have a very good eye there, Littlewood. The truth is, no, you can’t just kill someone and waltz on out. You have to be careful to not get caught by your classmates. It’s a bit more complicated than that, but you can find all the info on your Monopads!

Scar: Monopads?

Monokuma: Yup! I stuck ‘em in your pockets to replace those dinky old smartphones.

I scrambled around in my pockets, everyone else doing the same. Sure enough, instead of my phone, there was a small black and white tablet.

Congratulations! You can now use the @monopad-v5! Things like report cards, a school map, and regulations are all there. The @ will be in the pinned post.

I clicked on the icon for School Regulations and read through, my blood turning to ice.

Lizzie: By punished, you mean…

Monokuma: Execution, of course!

Tango: This… this can’t be real…

Monokuma: Believe what you like. It doesn’t change the truth.

Jimmy: I… I don’t…

Monokuma: Upupupu… You kids should sleep on it. Maybe you’ll feel a little more murderous in the morning. Check your profile in the report cards. It’ll tell you where you’re staying.

With that, he disappeared.

Bigb: …What now?

Cleo: I think we should listen and get some sleep. We’ve all had an exhausting day. We could use the rest.

Grian: That seems the best course of action.

Martyn: I agree.

We checked our maps, and made our way to the dorms. I had a feeling that sleep would be a long time coming for all of us.

Prologue/A Life, Limited/ <End>

[You got a School Crest.]

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[a-tale-of-legends]

Some kids

Luca and Ramona! Changed R.B's design a bit, I think this suits her better. I really wanted Luca's look to be bright, so I hope I successfully did that.

Arven and Nemona! Arven's in a dress due to an old post I made comparing the styles of him and R.B. That, and I think it's cute. I was honestly debating on what to do with Nemona's right arm. Should I keep it with the bracer or replace it with a prosthetic ( the picrew have prosthetic limbs). For now I just tried to replace her bracer but I'm still Thinking About It.

Finally Penny!

She was very hard to make. At first I tried to do a hoodie dress but it just didn't look right in the picrew, so I went with the other option: l o n g and baggy. Maximum comfort to make up for no hoodie( I read penny as a hoodie person, both to handle the dysphoria and simply because it genuinely gives her comfort- Something she can hide in).

Some bonuses for R.B and Arven

For R.B it's a simple shirt change, but for Arven it's probably something he would actually wear in canon lol.

And for some in general fashion hcs:

Luca- Bright and color clothes, loves accessories and hearts. "Bad" fashion sense.

R.B- Goth lmao. A bit of tech wear too? Generally wears a thin top with a baggy bottom. Probably wears the most make up of the group when given the chance.

Arven- Loves yellow, but also pastels and softer/muted colors. Generally dresses practically, nothing super fancy. Simply and effective.

Nemona- Athletic wear, anything that's comfortable for her to move and breathe in.

Penny- As I mentioned before, prefers hoodies over anything else, and if not that, she wears long sleeve clothing a lot. Summers are different so she doesn't fucking overheat ( it should be noted that Penny is not a fan of the warmer seasons).

Arven and Penny both have similar styles in fashion, so Arven would lend his spare cardigans to Penny if she feels restless. They're oversized too, which is a bonus.

Speaking of cardigans, Arven is a big cardigan guy. He doesn't wear them often since he's worried that it might ruin his "image" but he loves them. Especially the ones with embroidery on them.

Nemona has more formal, preppy clothing in her closet. She honestly hates them, only wearing them for insert rich people gathering here. She hates how they feel, and hates how stuffy they are. That doesn't exactly mean there aren't any that she finds comfortable, but for the most part they make her go ick.

Yes, Penny has a shit ton of anime and video game tees and hoodies. They are her pride and joy.

It is R.B's personal mission to have her friends try out the goth style at least once. Luca is going to be a challenge given how bright that kid is.

I joke about Luca having bad fashion sense but really, I just think the kid likes to mix and match. She generally wears bright clothing but it would be hard for me to exactly pin point a style, you know? It's just Luca.

[master-of-fluff]

Howdy, I just noticed you had original stories of your in your pinned post and if you want an excuse to rant about them here it is lol

Dead End sounds interesting from the title but whatever you want tbh ^^

Rjjehehaahsh! Oh gosh its been awhile since iv talked about my of my og stories.

So Dead End is about a Grim Reaper named Eli and a man named Owen.

Eli was once human and was born in the 1800's, he wanted to become a sailor because he loved the oceans and boats, but his parents tho wanted him to be a baller as they made more money.

When Eli was 14 or 15 he decided he would sneak out to the docks and ended up drowing

the former Grim Reaper of america decided to make Eli his apprentice and eventual replacement and began teaching him. (Which isnt exactly how grim reapers are supposed to be chosen so he gets a lot of crap from some of the Grim Reapers from other continents and Eli also struggles with his duties as a grim reaper)

Skip to our current year and we have Owen who is just your average college kid.

Until he someone flies through his aoartment door and bumps into him.

Eli who is how the current grim reaper as his 'teacher' had retired about a year ago was not doing ok, overwhelmed and feeling like he's failing his job he accidentally went into the wrong apartment.

And is shocked that not only can Owen see him but also touch him as living thing aren't supposed to see him unless he wants them too/are dying and Owen isn't on his list and he definitely shouldn't be able to touch him.

So Eli refuses to leave (aside from when he has to do his job) until he figures out why this is and now poor Owen has to deal with him.

and since Eli hasnt really been paying attention to humanity (aka hating how much the world has changed since he's died at refusing to learn about it) until now so Owen has to answer a bunch of questions

"Whatre you doing?"

"Making a mug cake"

"Whats a mug cake?"

"Why dont you water the ither plant?"

"That ones fake"

"...fake?" The questions never end.

Poor Owen has like no idea how to deal with this, He's was just a normal guy with a normal life, and now he thinks hes suddenly going crazy :(

After excepting this is happening, he ends up teaching Eli about everything on earth

anyways they end up falling in love and stuff but im not really sure if I want Owen to grow old and die and Eli be alone again, for Owen to become a Grin reaper of a different continent, or since Eli wasn't exactly supposed to be a grim reaper in the first place Owen decided to take it up with the higher ups and get Eli a second chance at life as compensation for the teachers screw up.

Other things:

Eli still loves ships and the ocean but is scared of water

Grim reapers still have to eat and sleep

Eli did continue aging after being taken in as the next grim reaper until he was about 25 physically and mentally

Owen is 26

Owen likes baking and cooking things, especially cookies

Owen also has a 6yo and 8yo nieces that he babysitting sometimes

And also he's apart of the old lady crochet club

They definitely go to the amusement park at least once in my story

[enjoy-the-small-thingsxx]

When the shearing sheds are silent, and the stock camps fallen quiet

When the gidgee coals no longer glow across the outback night

And the bush is forced to hang a sign, 'gone broke and won't be back’

And spirits fear to find a way beyond the beaten track

When harvesters stand derelict upon the wind-swept plains

And brave hearts pin their hopes no more on chance of loving rains

When a hundred outback settlements are ghost towns overnight

When we've lost the drive and heart we had to once more see us right

When 'Pioneer' means a stereo and 'Digger' some backhoe

And the 'Outback' is behind the house. there's nowhere else to go

And 'Anzac' is a biscuit brand and probably foreign owned

And education really means brainwashed and neatly cloned

When you have to bake a loaf of bread to make a decent crust

And our heritage once enshrined in gold is crumbling to dust

And old folk pay their camping fees on land for which they fought

And fishing is a great escape; this is until you're caught

When you see our kids with Yankee caps and resentment in their eyes

And the soaring crime and hopeless hearts is no longer a surprise

When the name of RM Williams is a yuppie clothing brand

And not a product of our heritage that grew off the land

When offering a hand makes people think you'll amputate

And two dogs’ meeting in the street is what you call a ‘Mate'

When 'Political Correctness' has replaced all common sense

When you're forced to see it their way, there's no sitting on the fence

Yes, one day you might find yourself an outcast in this land

Perhaps your heart will tell you then, ' I should have made a stand’

Just go and ask the farmers that should remove all doubt

Then join the swelling ranks who say, ' Don't sell Australia out!’

Please keep this going - Australia is in real trouble!

Author credit- Chris Long

Far North Queensland

Photo below to keep this post circulating, a little homestead that raised a large 10+ family back when Australia was Australian Owned 🇦🇺

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

Holy crud, prompt #12! Now I wanna see Hench man downgraded to "Villian's Personal Play-Toy," if you know what I mean. 😉

(EDIT: The zalgo text messed up the post on mobile, but I fixed it.)

Request #22

Warning: nsfw, non-con/dub-con, body horror.

Ask, and ye shall receive!

Also, this is just a couple of words away from 3k. So it's another longer one!

Hope you enjoy! ('Cause I had a fucking blast writing this.)

Part 1

~~~~

A day had gone by, and then another, and then some more, weeks started flying by, and Henchman was on the verge of a panic attack 24/7. Their Master had yet to bring up what had happened, and they weren't sure what to do. Should they say something? They honestly didn't want to, but it was starting to take a toll on them.

As their legs took them down the familiar path to Villain's study room, worry began gripping at their heart again. While it was nighttime, it was still fairly early. It wasn't time for their report yet. The villain had just called them over on their own.

And the henchman feared what was in store for them.

Suddenly, they subconsciously came to a stop and grimly realized that they had reached their destination. Taking a breath, Henchman steeled themself and lifted their hand to knock on the doors.

Only for them to open on their own. They creaked as they moved, even though they had never made as much as a squeak in the past. A shudder went through the human's body. This was it, wasn't it? What else could it possibly be?

Knowing they had no other choice, they entered. The room was dark, only dimly lit by some candles scattered around and the light coming in from the hallway. It gave the place an eerie vibe, and the henchman really wasn't liking this. Taking cautious steps, they moved deeper inside.

THUD

The doors suddenly slammed shut, startling them and making them turn around out of reflex. They could faintly hear the sound of the lock clicking as their eyes adjusted to the low light level. Letting out a breath they didn't realize they were holding, they turned around to face the room again.

As their head turned and their eyes took in what was in front of them, it took them a second to register the dark silhouette and glowing eyes standing right in their face and staring right into their soul.

With a yelp, they jumped back, hitting the wooden doors behind them and getting themself cornered. Before they could utter a word or plea, there were lips on their own, their arms getting pinned at their sides, as a pair of clawed hands landed on their waist, going up and down, caressing their body.

A muffled whimper managed to crawl out of their throat, answered by a deep growl, which drew a terrified shiver from them, their stomach tying itself into knots in their fear. Another clawed hand appeared, this one going to their face, cradling their cheek sweetly at first, before using its thumb to make its way past their lips and between their teeth, forcing them to open their mouth wide, letting the villain deepen the kiss as their tounges met.

The monster's tongue was inhuman, long, and pointy. It curled around the human's own, squeezing it. It explored every corner, grazed every tooth, every gum, and as Henchman began running out of oxygen, it dipped closer to the back of their throat, threatening to choke them, almost triggering their gag reflex.

When their lips at last parted, they were both gasping for air, Henchman the only one of the two who actually needed it to live. They wanted to say something, but Villain gave them no chance as they twisted the henchman's head to the side, giving themself better access to their neck.

That slimy tongue trailed from the base of Henchman's neck, all the way up to their ear, in which the villain whispered, "Since we had so much fun playing together the first time around, I thought we'd play again."

The human's legs got forced apart, the other's knee grinding into their crotch, drawing shaky gasps from them, as their Master pushed their bodies flush against each other. They whined lightly as sharp teeth gently nibbled on their earlobe. Hands glided to their hips before Villain continued, "But this time, I'm on top."

Another growl shook Henchman to their very core as the villain pulled them into another rough kiss and dragged them away from the doors. By the time their back met with the soft cushions of the couch, they had already gotten tangled in a sea of limbs.

There were hands all over them, trailing across their body. They tore the human's clothing off them, throwing it to the side so that they could run across their skin uninterrupted. The touch quickly became overwhelming, Henchman's brain becoming overloaded and clouded.

They shook, a quiet moan slipping past their lips as a claw softly traced down their sex. The monster could so easily cut into them, could make it hurt if they so desired. Henchman had seen the way these same claws tore into Villain's victims, shredding the flesh apart like it was nothing. The way these very hands snapped bones like old dried-up twigs. It made their chest tighten with dread, the possibilities terrifying them to no end.

Their mouths separated again, the henchman trying to gulp down as much air as they could through their soft gasps, with the villain still teasing at their privates. They looked up at the monster, the sight of their Master looming over them making them shiver even more. The hungry glint in the other's eyes growing alongside their terror.

As a hand wrapped tightly around their throat, and another one pulled at their hair harshly, tilting their head back and exposing their neck, Henchman whimpered as their Master spoke.

"Yo̯̔u hav̥͝e no id̺̋ė͜a͉͑ wh̪̀ȁ̫t̘̓ ̜̈i̞̎t's͟͝ ḽ̄ike ̖͋t̕ͅö̱ be ̝̐a̱͡ṫ̲ sõ̗m͎̋e͉͘one else'̯͐s͖̿ m̢̌e̪͊r͖̕c̺͆y͈̚."

The human swallowed the lump in their throat, seeing their own words come back to bite them, just like the villain. The beast leaned down, the hand at Henchman's throat moving away, letting them wrap their jaws around their neck. As Villain's sharp teeth grazed their neck, the henchman started struggling out of instinct, their primal fear of death awakening at the thought of the monster biting down and ripping their throat out.

Unfortunately, all their fighting earned them was a warning growl that vibrated through their entire being and more hands grasping at their body, completely pinning them down so that they couldn't move even an inch. They choked on their spit as Villain added a bit of pressure to their bites, the human whimpering beneath them, too terrified to form coherent words or try to beg as hot tears decorated their face.

The monster's voice danced across Henchman's neck, drawing more mewls from them as they continued from earlier, "B͓͗ủ͎t̰̅ d̬̅on't ŵ͓ǒ̢ř͜ry..."

The human's legs suddenly got spread apart, somehow making them feel more exposed. The familiar sound of a zipper entered their ears, and they yelped as their body got jerked forward, their face meeting with the villain's crotch, and- that- that wasn't like that before!

"I̜͑ wil̖̔l̛̜ ̎ͅsh̗̉o͉̍w̧̐ ͔͞you e̛̯xaç̇t̨̀ĺ̬ỳͅ wḫ̿ä̫́t ́͜iṭ̕'̧́s̻͊ ̣̎l͙̊ik̈ͅe."

A tentacle-like appendage had replaced the regular human genitalia the monster had before, and Henchman whimpered as its tip prodded at their lips. Their fearful eyes moved up to meet Villain's gaze, refusing to open their mouth. The hand still tangled in their hair tugged, but they still refused to obey. It was only when a hand trailed up their thigh did they gasp, caught off guard.

The villain's slithery dick wasted no time slipping inside the human's mouth, and, for a split second, the henchman considered biting down on it and regretted the thought instantly as one of Villain's hands grasped at their delicate sex, threatening to dig their claws into it. Henchman threw their idea aside right away, frantically begging inside their head that the monster not do it.

A small smirk made its way onto their Master's face in response as they pulled the claws away from the human's fragile body part. They shook as the villain ordered, "T̖̍h͎̽en̮͠ ̼͑s̨̈ų̾c̰̄k."

Henchman obeyed this time, granted they've never done this before, so they tried their best. But judging by the low moans coming from Villain, they'd say they were doing a decent enough job.

A pleasured gasp slipped past the monster's lips as the human sucked a certain way, so the henchman continued doing it that way from then on, making the villain close their eyes and tilt their head back blissfully. The sight of Villain just sitting on top of them, fully dressed and using Henchman as their- their toy, their plaything-

It truly showed who was in charge here.

Even- Even back then, all those weeks ago. Their Master had let them do all of that. They let the henchman have their little moment just so that they could show them where their place was, show them that they weren't in control.

Villain was in charge, and Henchman was below them.

As they finished that thought, the human gasped as a hand suddenly but slowly stroked their sex, the monster's voice echoing all around them.

"Goo͎͝d~. ͕̈V͌͜ery̧͌ ͎̑ĝ̲o̩̚ȯ̪d~. ̛̲Yo̘̾u f͍̕iñ͈ȁ̰lly ͛͟lë͢arn̖͂è̩d͔̅ youṛ̍ place~."

The henchman shivered at the unexpected praise, moaning around their Master's shaft, adding to the villain's pleasure. Hands gripped their asscheeks, squeezing firmly. Another pair of hands trailed up their spread legs, teasing the inside of their thighs.

"Wh̺͌at a̐͜ g̭̽ó̗o̗͊d p̼̄e̫̓t y̛͚o̦̊u ͢͝are͙͝~."

Sucking vigorously at Villain's dick, Henchman's breathing began turning shaky. All the touch, pleasure, and praise was rising that sweet feeling in their guts, drawing them closer to an orgasm.

"D̡͆o ̟͑ẙ̮ou ̛͈wan̗̈t̚ͅ ̮̄t̠̋o co̘͘me, ̟̾pe̓͢t͓̋~?"

"Y-Yes! Please, Master! Please, let me come!" - the henchman shamelessly begged inside their head, making the monster chuckle.

And cruelly stop touching them.

The human whined at the loss of touch but was instantly distracted by another tug on their hair. As the villain took their cock out of their mouth, they gasped for precious air, watching as the other pulled them back to their previous spot and leaned down again, bringing their faces closer.

Villain's hot breath made their skin tingle. They gulped as their eyes locked and the monster roughly grabbed their chin, saying,

"Y͖̒ơ̖u̻̾ ̛̩d̪̍o͖̔n't g͙̒e͕͒t͂͢ ͂͟to com̪̆e̛̜ u̪͊nl̞̕e̩̎ss ͓̐I̧͡'̘͂v͕͛e d͇̂ec̻̾id̘͞ed ̤̃th̭̊á͈t ȳ͈ou'v͔̀ẹ̈́ ̰̈́eaṙ̻ne̡͝d̠̈ i̛̹t͇̒."

Inhaling shakily, Henchman tensed up as their Master moved back, positioning themself at their entrance. They whimpered as the villain's tentacle dick teased at their hole, running small circles around it before slowly slipping inside them. At the very least, it was still slick with their saliva, but the way their muscles were forced to stretch around the other still drew soft, pained cries from them.

Futilely wiggling in Villain's tight unyielding hold, the henchman mewled pitifully. The monster leaned forward and locked their lips in a kiss lighter than the previous ones, granting them a shred of their mercy by giving them a moment to adjust.

In hopes of making this at least a bit less painful for themself, Henchman kissed back, trying to keep their Master pleased. By doing so, they earned themself an approving moan and a pair of hands trailing up their sides, drawing a pleasant shiver from them.

As their mouths separated, the human breathed shakily and hissed as the monster began moving, slowly gliding in and out of them. Although terrified of the idea, they tilted their head to the side, exposing their neck to Villain, who wasted no time lightly digging their sharp teeth into the henchman's delicate flesh, drawing blood.

Henchman's breath hitched as the monster's tongue slid across the fresh bite marks, lapping up their blood and making their wounds sting in the process. They were, however, once again rewarded for their good behavior as a hand moved up their inner thigh and paused at their crotch, beginning to tease at their sex softly.

A groan vibrated against the human's neck as the villain sped up. The henchman gasped at the change in pace, the pain slowly turning into pleasure. They moaned and whined as their Master thrust into them with rough, sharp pushes of their hips and shivered as the monster began to growl in their ear. "Yo̳͐u̥̓ h́ͅa̫͗v̠͌e̘̓ nó̟ i͈̐d̝̓e̬̿a..."

Claws dragged down Henchman's spine, making them arch into Villain. "...Ḧ̹ow̩̽ ̙͆ḣ̨ar͈̀d i̜͐t wa̺͆s..."

They cried out as the hand at their sex sped up, bringing them closer to their finish. "...N̳̅o̻͐t to͈̍ ͚͡j͔͂ů̻st͈̑ ̹͡ǵͅra̰̎b̛͕ y̜̌ǫ͑ụ̓ ͕̕a̻̔nd ̲́f͓͂u͓̓cḱ͈ y͎̐ou̥͋ se̘̔n̔͟sele͓̓ss back̟̀ ̱͡theņ͂..."

Breathing heavily, the human shuddered as they finally reached their-

Wait, why- Why couldn't they orgasm? They were there! They knew they were! They-

They heaved as the monster sped up more, the sound of their skin slapping together echoing inside their head. Another shudder coursed through them as the villain continued to stroke their genitals, forcing their pleasure to build up. Amidst it all, they managed to form a drop of concentration and could vaguely feel Villain's magic wrapped around their sensitive parts.

The- The villain was forcefully stopping them from coming!

Henchman had at some point closed their eyes but had now opened them again. Looking to their Master with desperation, they went to speak, to beg them for release, but before a word could leave them, another tentacle came from somewhere unknown and shoved itself into their mouth, keeping them from talking.

They whimpered around the slithery appendage as Villain locked their gazes. "...You ̭̇loȏ͕ked s̭̑o fu̮͛ck̨̈i͙̓ng à̬dor͙̐ab̨͊le..."

The tentacle began sliding in and out of their mouth, in rhythm with the human's Master, who gasped at the sensation, drowning themself in pleasure as they continued to ruthlessly fuck the other. "...S̅͜o̎͟ ̘́ad̢̈o͕͑rạ̃b̛̭le... th̺̓i͚͒n̬͝kin̡͗g̜͘ yǫ̑u h̫̽ad̓ͅ ̨̊p̮̍o̘̓w̻̍eṙ͕ ov̞͋è͖r̹͆ m̟̏ĕ͔.."

Hot tears once again started to fall down Henchman's face as the pleasure became overwhelming, their body begging for release. Their eyebrows furrowed in a pitiful manner as they silently pleaded with the villain with their eyes, unable to form coherent thoughts. The monster shuddered at the sight, and with a few more good thurst came long and hard inside their plaything. Even the tentacle inside the henchman's mouth ejaculated, and they obediently swallowed their Master's seed.

As Villain's orgasm ended and they slowly came down from their high, their movements began to slow down, until eventually coming to a stop. Well, except for the hand that still teased at Henchman's sex, though much slower now.

Sliding out of the human, the villain gave a small pleased sigh and watched as the other gasped once their mouth was empty, as their body violently shook from their need for release.

Lightly running a finger up and down the henchman's sex, Villain asked, amused, "N̛̲ow ̱͋t̞̒he͔̋n, ̃͟wḧ͙́at h̯͡a̬͐ve you͈͊ ḻ͞e͎̐ar̨̎ned ̺̔tọ̔d̻͛ạ͡y, ͇̔H͖͋ê͔nc͖̽h̘͡man?"

"T-That- Ah~ That y-you're in c-charge, Master!" - Henchman cried out in reply.

"A̭̽nd̳͡~?" - the villain pressed, grabbing the human's chin and locking their eyes. The hand at the other's sex touching with more force.

"A-And that I- Ah~ I- I have no c-control over y- AH~ you! I- I only exist to s-serve you, Master!"

Holding their faces a breath apart, Villain murmured, "An̝̋d̐͢ ͍̉if͔̒ I'm̙̆ ̪̀your ̘͠m̯̋a̹͝s͊͢te̖̽r, wha̗͞t̻͑ ǎ̦re yŏ͜u to m̭̅e?"

Whimpering and with their tears slowly blinding their vision, the henchman answered.

"I-I'm your pet, M-Master."

"Ye͌͟s~. An̢̾d̲͑ y͂͢ou'r̯͑ȅ͈ a ̛̗v͙͋er̜̀y ̼̎ğ̤ǫ̔od p͇̈e͙̅t~."

Henchman screamed across the entire room as the magic wrapped around their sex finally vanished and as their Master began rapidly stroking them, drawing out their orgasm to the max. Their entire body shook as they finally got the release they were in desperate need of for so long now.

Every one of the human's muscles flexed and spasmed as they chanted "Master! Master!" over and over again. They could barely breathe as the monster gave them an order.

"M͕̈́y̨̚ n̩̂ā̦͈͎̒̏m͚̝̾́̋ͅẽ͕̯̔... ̭͎͖̻̄̋͐̃Ś̨̱̓̐̚͜ͅA͉͔̬͗̄̎Y̬͚͇͂͡͝ ̢͍̰̞̿̇͆͗M̛̘͇̌͢͞͠ͅY̰̗̥̐͂̕ ͍̗̲̣̲̻̂̆̈̅̀͟͝͡Ṉ̛̳̖͈̦̻̆͊͋̚̚͟͡A̡̧̞̜͉̘̲̋̋́̐́͆͡M̼̣͎͓̫̬̆͛͆͘̕͟͞͡E͚͔͖̝̞̜̘̎̊̽̿̆̾͞!"

"VILLAIN!"

Shouting the beast's name, again and again, Henchman lost themself in their lust. They were yelling so loud, no doubt the whole lair could hear them at this point, crying out their Master's name with nearly religious devotion.

They kept this up for as long as they could, but eventually, their throat gave out, too tired to scream more. At that point, the villain's hand, at last, left them, but it still took their body a solid five minutes of spasming until their high came to an end, Villain watching them twitch beneath them all the while.

Once the human's body managed to calm down, their eyelids fluttered closed, and the many arms holding them let them go and retreated back into the villain's body. As Henchman struggled to catch their breath, their Master leaned forward, gently took hold of their chin, and locked their lips in a soft kiss. They weakly kissed back, so exhausted they could pass out any moment.

When their mouths parted for the last time tonight, Villain lifted themself off the couch and put their dick back in their pants. As the henchman lay there, they were startled by something falling on top of them and opened their eyes to see that it was a fluffy blanket, one presumably materialized into existence by their Master.

Tilting their head to the side, they looked at the monster, slightly confused, as they cradled their face with one hand and answered their unspoken question. "Since you've been so good, I'll allow you to rest here~."

"And then, once you wake up, you can give me your report~." - the villain added with a small grin, letting go of Henchman's face and giving them a gentle boop on the nose.

"T-Thank you, Master..." - the human managed to reply. With a small chuckle, Villain walked off to the side and sat down in a plush armchair. A book appeared in their hands as their body relaxed.

But before they could begin reading, the henchman uttered, "M-Master...?"

"Yes?" - the monster asked, calmer than the human had ever seen them before.

"I... learned one more thing today..." - they explained, eyes slowly closing.

"Oh? And what might that be?" - the villain pressed, genuinely curious.

"I learned... that... I'm into some weird shit..."

Villain's amused and gleeful cackle was the last thing that entered Henchman's ears as slumber took hold of them, a small smile decorating their tired lips.

[caught-in-the-filter]

Peter’s Pet

Summary: Peter Pan didn’t expect to see Killian Jones in Neverland again, but he happily seizes the opportunity the unexpected reunion presents.

Inspired by this gorgeous piece of potentially dub-con Captain Pan art by @mischievousgraxaim 😘❤️

Warnings: heavily dub-con, pet play (sorta kinda)

A/N: Huge shoutout and thank you to @mischievousgraxaim for your wonderful sketch and for granting me permission to post this. Everyone go check out the link in the summary and give some love to the amazing inspiration. 😘❤️

Also shoutout and thank you to @hollyethecurious for sharing the art post in the first place and for betaing this for me. 😘❤️

Rated: E; Words: 1083; AO3

——

“Well, well, I never thought I’d see you back in Neverland, Lieutenant.” Pan crossed his arms at the sight of his old friend standing before him once again. Gone was the man’s naval uniform, replaced by layers of black and leather. He was older now, with a new sort of confidence in his stance, a strength that was going to be so much fun to strip away. Pan couldn’t hide the delight tugging his lips into a smirk as all sorts of dark, delicious thoughts danced around his mind. It had been far too long.

“It’s Captain now,” Killian said through gritted teeth, his fist flexing and clenching at his side as Pan raised his brow in disbelief, “and I didn’t have a choice. I wouldn’t be here if I did.”

“Ah, is that right?” Pan taunted. “So, no matter your title,” he closed the space between them until his chest pressed against Killian’s, “you still like to be controlled.”

“That’s not what I—”

“Y’know what I think?” Leaning over Killian’s shoulder, Pan purred, “I think you missed me.” He licked the shell of the Captain’s ear and whispered, “Did you miss me, pet?”

“No,” Killian answered firmly, but his resolve slipped with a ragged breath as Pan palmed him through his leathers. As tempted as he was to fight the imp, he knew better than to shove him away, aware of what the consequences of such an action could be. He shivered at the mere thought of those punishments he’d endured too often so long ago, much to the enjoyment of the one who had bestowed them upon him.

“Mmm, part of you did. I can feel it.” Pan stepped behind Killian and settled flush against his back, resting his chin on the Captain’s shoulder. “Why don’t we have a look?”

Killian tried to catch Pan’s arm in the crook of his hook as the imp unlaced his leathers and pulled them away from his body, revealing how embarrassingly hard he already was, but Pan was quicker.

“Ah ah, pet,” Pan tutted as he kicked the back of Killian’s knees, making them buckle beneath him, before pinning him to the ground, Pan’s own knee planting itself in the middle of the Captain’s back. Gripping Killian’s hand and hook tightly, Pan slammed them down at either side of his head. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the manners I taught you. You know that’s not allowed.”

“I’m sorry,” Killian offered begrudgingly.

“Oh, you will be. I promise you that.” Pan nuzzled Killian’s neck and nipped forcefully along his jaw as he slid his body lower, spreading himself over his pet and caging the fiery thing with his arms and legs. With a nod, Pan whisked away Killian’s leather duster, one less layer between them.

As he rocked his hips and began to grind against his pet’s unfortunately still clothed ass, Pan moaned far too loudly as he remembered how it felt to take it again and again and again, and he practically salivated at the fact that he had another chance at last.

“Now, I’m going to roll you onto your back, and you’re going to be a good little pet and stay still while I strip you, alright?”

When Killian didn’t respond, Pan slapped his cheek, twice, the sting enough to make him nod reluctantly.

“Good.” Pan stood, giving Killian a brief moment to relax before flipping him and straddling his waist, sitting right where it counted as he slowly worked open the buttons down the front of his shirt. “You've got some new scars, pet. I didn’t give you these,” he assessed as he traced the lines covering Killian’s marred flesh. “Did you think you could let someone else claim you while we were apart? Are you so desperate to be broken?” Pan smiled as Killian’s upper lip twitched into a sneer. “It’s no matter. I’ll just have to give you plenty more to remind you who owns you.”

Pan tucked his fingers under the waistband of Killian’s leathers and tugged them down his legs, watching intently as the Captain’s cock sprang free before fully removing them and his boots. Kneeling by his waist, Pan raked his nails along the underside of Killian’s shaft, delighted by his sharp inhale at the equally sharp touch.

“I’ve missed our little games, Killy.” Pan gave Killian a sudden squeeze and laughed at the guttural sound he produced. “Get back on your stomach now,” he ordered, almost disappointed that Killian actually obeyed and spared himself another punishment. “Good boy,” he teased, ruffling Killian’s hair the way Pan knew he hated as he sat atop his thighs.

“Tell me, pet,” Pan ran his finger along the leather straps crossing Killian’s back which held his hook in place, “who gave you this lovely piece of hardware?”

“The Dark One,” Killian spat the moniker. “Rumplestiltskin.”

“Did he now?” Pan’s eyes widened with a curious sense of pride. “He’s come a long way then.”

“You know him?”

“More closely than he’d ever admit,” Pan answered, stretching the strap and snapping it against Killian’s skin. “You could say he was my first Lost Boy. He learned well, I see.”

“So, I’m not the only one who’s left you.” The jab didn’t seem to have the effect Killian was hoping for.

“No,” Pan said, caressing Killian’s cheek, “but you’re the one who keeps coming back to me.” Trailing his fingertips up and down the Captain’s back, Pan asked, “How is my little Rumple?”

“He’s as delightful a demon as you are,” Killian muttered. The insult earned him a strong punch to the center of his back, knocking the wind out of him for a solid minute at least.

“You’ll pay for that, too,” Pan assured him, “but it’s been too long since we last played, and you know how impatient I can be.” He lowered his own trousers enough to free his cock before possessively wrapping his fingers around the curve of Killian’s hook, taking himself in his other hand with languid strokes. “Now,” he cooed, a sinister growl lacing his usual unsettlingly pleasant tone as he returned his lips to Killian’s ear, “think of a wonderful thought, Captain.”

Killian cried out as Pan filled his ass without preparation or warning. The tips of Killian’s fingers and hook dug into the dirt as he clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to buck Pan off himself. His cheeks burned in frustration, humiliation, and pain, and he knew they had only just begun.

——

Tag list for this fic ❤️: @hollyethecurious @justanother-unluckysoul @zaharadessert @motherkatereloyshipper @tiganasummertree @deckerstarblanche

[t-lostinworlds]

Truth or Drink (Tom Holland)

[YouTube AU: Video 2]

a/n: this took a while asdfghjkl this was in my drafts since oct. at 7k already (but got distracted with other WIPs as always) and was suggested by this anon back in aug. so i’m sorry this took a so long hun. also, the gif took a fucking while too ‘cause we are extra in this house haha (i mean, i wanted the time in the vid to match the wc so ha). anyway, enough babbling and let’s get into the video! lol, i hope you guys enjoy this one!

summary: You and Tom do a couples Q&A where you spilled steamy secrets with the help from alcohol. pairing: tom holland x fem!reader warnings: dialogue bonanza (lots of laughing and asking), alcohol consumption, secret spilling (from both parties), teasing from everyone (will include dirty jokes from the lads), mentions of smut & risque aka sex-themed questions. word count: 14.2k+ (aha enjoy!)

☰ youtube channel | previous video << ǁ >> next video ☰ masterlist on bio & pinned post

⚠ DISCLAIMER: this is a multi-part (not a series) which is basically one-shots happening in the same universe meaning you don’t need to read the previous one to understand this one since they are not heavily connected plot wise. although each fic does happen chronologically, you don’t need to read them in order much like how you don’t need to watch youtube videos in order.

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You knew something was about to happen the moment you walked into the dining area, the way Tom immediately went to latch onto you like a koala bear—as if he hasn't seen you just minutes before—tells all.

"What are you up to now?" you asked with a playful scrunch of your nose.

You rested your hands on his shoulders, the fabric of his pink hoodie—while you wore his other pink hoodie, outfits not at all planned since you just took the first thing you saw in his closet—soft to the touch as you took a glance at the camera that was set up at the head of the dining table. The greenery of the outside world behind the glass doors served as a backdrop to the shot.

The crease between your brows deepened at the sight, gaze landing back on the boy attached to your hip who was hugging you sideways with a certain glow in his eyes.

"I'm not up to anything," Tom denied, nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck to litter the skin with sweet and soft kisses. Although the gesture made your heart melt, it also made your suspicion grow. You just know there was more to this than meets the eye.

Strong arms staying around your torso, Tom pulled away slightly so he could meet your gaze again, a certain smile growing on his lips, one you know too well. It was the usual smile he wears whenever he wants something from you, a favor perhaps. An all too powerful grin that had you made him get away with things—mostly stupid ones—easily that you aren't exactly proud to admit.

"Tom," you warned with a raise of a brow, enough seriousness and command in your tone that he was quick to give in.

"Okay, okay, we're shooting the next video," he chuckled, tracing your jaw with the tip of his nose before giving it a soft peck. "Which I am hoping you'll do with me still," he murmured, placing another kiss on your cheek before pulling away to look at you fully as he flashed you a not-so-innocent smile.

Bingo.

Tom just doesn't suddenly become so clingy—well, he normally is but more than usual anyway—especially out of nowhere without it having an underlying reason.

You narrowed your eyes at him skeptically. You stayed silent as you weighed your odds, if the enjoyment of making the video was worth it for you to endure the obvious embarrassment that would come with it. You do love this YouTube thing he's got going on, you truly do enjoy being a part of it. But with the things he's spilled in the last video, you just want to make sure that this time won't be too much, though you highly doubt it.

It was hilarious how his bottom lip started to go at your reaction, eyes turning rounder, cuter that would give Puss in Boots a run for his money. And just as you counted in your head, three, two, one—

"Please, darling? Do it with me?" Tom cooed, placing his head on your shoulder as he gave your waist a loving squeeze, fluttering his eyelashes at you in the most adorable of ways with that cute pout to match. It was his signature look whenever he wanted something, the look of handsome and adorable persuasion. "I'll keep the secret-spilling at a minimum, love. And besides, we can always edit it out."

You let out a soft sigh, shaking your head at the fact that you're saying yes either way. You can never say no whenever he puts on that very persuasive face of his, can never resist him even if you tried. And of course, Tom knows this power he has over you, and he's mastered a way on how and when to use it to his advantage.

You aren't exactly proud to say that he has never failed once, his tactic very effective and that's putting it lightly. It's sneaky and annoying sometimes but it's still cute nonetheless.

Though, never did he once abuse this weakness of yours, only using it with the little things—like letting him sneak in some snacks on set when he was instructed not to or when he wants to do certain stuff—because when it's something serious and you say 'no,' then he's quick to listen and settle when you've made your final decision. He knows you only have the best intentions when it comes to his safety and just him in general, so there's really no doubt on Tom's behalf when it comes to following you on that.

"Why me? Why not give the other boys a chance to be in the spotlight?" you proposed, not giving him the satisfaction of winning just yet.

Tom shrugged with a wide smile. "The fans love you," he hummed.

The reception of the last video was mostly positive. Maybe it was the fact that you've been with Tom for a couple years already.

Your relationship was private of course, but it wasn't a secret. It was relatively the both of you showing glimpses of it every now and then online. So, compared to when the news first broke out, this time was a bit calmer. There are still trolls and haters—they're always going to be there unfortunately—but you've learned to shut them out, turning your focus more on the ones who are very positive and supportive. They should be the only ones who should be given attention to, no point wasting your energy on random keyboard warriors.

"You mean they love it when I make fun of you?" you said, laughter escaping your lips soon after when Tom buried his face back on the crook of your neck as he groaned in dismay.

Let's just say his fans quite enjoyed how you handled him in the last video, the teasing, the banter, the whole lot. Tom hasn't been able to escape the countless clips that are circulating the good old internet. No matter which platform he uses, a clip or meme is always there to haunt him. Most of them vary from him screaming and wriggling in pain; laughing like a hyena while also wriggling in pain; the random facial expressions he's made; and even sometimes, a snapshot of you looking at him in great disappointment and/or embarrassment. That's just some among the plethora of other memes.

Tom had seen it coming of course, but it doesn't mean it's any less embarrassing, especially with how clueless he seemed when it came to women.

"Unfortunately, that too," he grumbled.

"Okay then, might as well give them more content," you teased, Tom pulling away again to gawk at you with a look of feign betrayal crossing his features. You could only laugh at that, giving his jutted out lip a kiss to replace it with one of his many sweet smiles. Despite you saying it in a joking manner, he can't really deny that that would happen either way. After all, no matter what he does, he will always be a walking meme.

Tom finally lets you go after one more peck on the cheek, guiding you towards the seat by the other end of the table soon after. He helped you in like the gentleman that he is, a kiss landing on top of your head once you were seated before he made his way towards his place.

"What are we doing this time?" you asked when Tom sat down on the chair across from you.

And as if on cue, Harry walked into the dining area with two bottles of gin on hand, Harrison following suit with a bowl of half-sliced limes along with Tuwaine with a bucket of ice and two Collins glasses.

"Truth or drink," Harry said with a wide grin, lifting the bottles of Aviation gin to further prove his point.

"You guys chose me to do this with him because I'm a lightweight, which means I'm more likely to talk, didn't you?" you said, narrowing your eyes at each of them as they placed their respective items right in front of you in the middle of the table.

All three boys gasped exaggeratedly at your accusation, shaking their heads as they made their way behind the camera, chorusing a bunched of:

"Oh no, of course not."

"That was not the plan."

"We would never."

You could only roll your eyes at them, playfully of course, turning back to Tom who was quick to throw his hands up in surrender once he took in your expression of pure suspicion.

"I swear, I just want to do this with you, plain and simple," he confessed, though his follow up sentence made you think that it wasn't as plain and simple. "But you are very funny when you have alcohol in your system."

"Does that mean I'm not when sober?" You raised your brow at the man across you, sitting straight up as you clasp your hands together, resting it on the table to seem serious.

Tom shook his head frantically. "No! You're still very funny sober!" he rushed. "Love, you know what I meant," he added with a whine, head dropping low once you let out a laugh, only lifting it back up to shoot you another pout. He can be quite gullible sometimes and you honestly love it, love teasing him about.

"Besides, it's a couples Q&A and the only couple here are you two so there aren't really any options. The only difference is that it has alcohol to spice things up a little," Harry said, now in his place behind the camera just like before.

"With equally spicy questions," Harrison added with a wriggle of his brows, coming back up on the head of the table to place a stack of white cards to which you assumed was where the questions were written.

"You guys wrote the questions didn't you? Okay, this is a set up," you joked.

"They're harmless questions I swear!" Harrison defended with a laugh before returning back to his place by the camera. Though knowing them for as long as you have, you've learned to never trust those words fully. It was highly expected that the questions aren't going to be simple, let alone safe for work.

"But if you're not comfortable doing it, it's totally fine, darling," Tom said, smiling sweetly as he grabbed your hands across the table and gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. He knows you have never been an avid drinker. As you've said, you are lightweight. So, if ever you wanted to back out, he's just making sure you know that you have the option to.

"No, I'm fine with it. This will be fun," you said, flashing him a true, reassuring smile of your own, squeezing his hand in return for good measure. "But can I at least have some juice or something? I'm not drinking gin straight," you added.

"Figured you'd say that," Tom said with a wide grin, rushing up from his seat and disappearing into the kitchen. He came back not long after with a bottle of orange juice on one hand all while holding a spoon and paring knife on the other. "Rollin' down the street, smokin' indo, sippin' on gin and juice," he sang the good old Snoop Dogg classic no matter how corny, placing the bottle juice right beside the gin on the head of the table.

You narrowed your eyes at your man. "You seem prepared Tom."

"Nope, I just know you too well," he hummed, giving you a sweet peck on the forehead before he was back on his seat across you.

"Right, let's give the people what they want," you said, rubbing your hands together with a wide smile.

It was Tom's turn to look at you skeptically. "Why do I have a feeling that we'll just take turns in exposing each other?"

You tilted your head at him with a grin, shrugging your shoulders and said,

"How bad can it be?"

***

"And we are rolling."

"What's up guys! Tom Holland here," he introduced with a loud clap. "I'm back with another video joined by none other than the gorgeous Y/N." You waved at the camera with a sweet smile at the mention of your name. "The rest of the gang are behind the camera as per usual," Tom added, the lads cheering at their cue unenthusiastically and totally not in sync, chuckles and giggles following soon after.

"You can feel the excitement in the room," Tom said sarcastically with a roll of his eyes. "Anyhow, since lovely Ryan Reynolds sent me a case of gin just recently, I thought; why not put it to good use?" Tom shot the camera a knowing look. "Hashtag not sponsored but should be!" he yelled, making you jump slightly at the sudden loud sound.

"Do you have to be so loud?" you grumbled, playfully covering your ears in the process.

"Oh, sorry love," Tom chuckled, shooting you a sweet smile before turning back to the camera, finger pointed at it as he said, "But Ryan, my DMs are always open."

"Always looking for someone to replace me," you sighed, shaking your head dejectedly as you turned to the camera with a deep frown.

"Ah, here we go," Tom groaned, shooting you a playful glare because he knows that the teasing would only get more and more prominent from here on out.

"What? You and I both know I've got a lot of competition," you said as a matter of fact, leaning back on your seat with arms crossed over your chest. "Mainly Jake G. and Harrison, with a couple of variations here and there but you get what I mean."

Tom shook his head at you with a teasing roll of his eyes. "Once again, my girlfriend everyone," he said to the lens with a tight lip smile before turning back to you with a deadpan expression. You only shrugged in response, flashing him an innocent smile.

"Anyway, a fan suggested this in the comments of the last video so today, we're going to be doing Truth or Drink," he continued, turning back to face the camera. "Rules are simple, we take turns on reading out the questions that are written on these cards right here"—Tom lifted the stack of white, rectangular cards before placing them back on the table—"and we either answer them truthfully or we take a drink."

"Oh and a little disclaimer," you paused as you looked at the camera. "The lads wrote the questions so we have no idea what's in the cards nor did we have any involvement in the choosing of certain topics which are possibly going to be discussed in this video," you added, feeling like it was a fact that needed to be said.

"Parental guidance is advised," Tom chuckled.

"They're not that bad you divs," Harrison grumbled.

Now you're certain on who wrote most of the questions, he's been keen on taking offense whenever anyone gets suspicious over them. "We'll be the judge of that," you stated, raising a brow at Harrison before turning back to Tom.

"Let's get right into it shall we?" Tom proposed. You gave him a nod in response, jutting out two thumbs up for good measure. "Ladies first," he said, flashing you a charming grin as he gestured towards the pile of cards.

You reached over to the pile, making sure to pick the card in the middle just to make sure that it was completely random. You adore the lads, but knowing how mischievous they can get, you've learned to always keep one eye open with regard to everything that they do. Plus, it was so easy to set it up for you to pick a certain question given that it was only you and Tom taking turns on picking a card.

"We are starting off with something a tad bit dark huh." You gave the lads a swift glance before turning to the card you had on hand. "If I killed someone would you help me cover it up?" you read out loud, placing the card on the discarded pile before your gaze landed on Tom who gave you a small, secretive nod 'yes' which only made you giggle.

Tom leaned forward as he rested his elbow on the marble surface, hand playing with his chin with his eyes on the ceiling to seem that he was deep in thought. He turned back to you and said, "Do we not get any context? Was it an accident or was it on purpose? Was it due to hate or fear? Was it justified?"

"It's a yes or no answer Tom," you laughed.

"Well then, you already know the answer but for legal purposes," Tom paused, reaching for the bucket of ice and putting some in his glass. He poured the gin on top of that and then added a dash of lime, swirling around the glass to mix them all together. "My lips are sealed," he chuckled, lifting the glass up to his lips and taking a drink. "Oh, that's good stuff," he commented, taking another sip before putting the glass back down.

"Hypothetically, if you were going to help, you'll probably be the one who'll get us caught if I'm being honest," you giggled to which Tom threw his head back with a laugh.

"Yeah, you'll tell me what you did, I'll get shocked and as we're getting stuff to you know, hypothetically hide the body, I'll go 'I can't believe you killed someone' in public and then someone will hear and call the police and we're done."

You burst out in a hearty laugh at that, nodding your head in agreement. "That's exactly how it's going to happen."

It was Tom's turn to pick a question, his grin growing wider as his eyes scanned the card in his fingers. "What's the most embarrassing thing you've done in front of me?" he asked, his features brightening in excitement because he already knows the answer. There wasn't really much to begin with other than that one incident that will always haunt you for the rest of your life.

"Do you want me to tell them the story?" you sighed, leaning back on your chair with palms flat on the table. It wasn't one of your finest moments that's for sure and Tom hasn't been letting you hear the end of it. In fact, it was one of his favourite stories involving you both.

"It's up to you, love. You don't have to if you don't want to." Tom shrugged with a smirk, reaching for your glass to get your drink made. "But that moment was so adorable for me though, embarrassing for you but very adorable for me," he added with a wink.

"Adorable or ego boosting?" you pointed out with a raise of your brow.

"Both," Tom laughed, adding some ice in your glass and pouring just the right amount of gin soon after.

You watched with an adoring smile as he poured in the orange juice, the sound of silverware and glass clinking together filling the air as he mixed up the liquids. He then squeezed a bit of lime in your drink, taking the paring knife soon after to slice up another lime in a thin circle, making a small slit in the middle so he can put it on the rim of your glass easily. Tom can be extra at times, of course he felt the need to decorate your drink, even when it wasn't exactly necessary but you wouldn't want it any other way.

"Look at you being a bartender," you teased, Tom looking up from his task to shoot you playful wink with a smug smirk to match.

"You love to see it."

You shrugged, not at all denying his claim because well, you do love seeing it.

"Here you go, mi lady," he hummed, handing you your beautifully decorated drink with a proud grin on his lips.

"Thank you, kind sir."

As much as how refreshing the cocktail looked in its cold glass and bright, orange colored glory, you know you had to be strategic with drinking. Because alcohol boosts your confidence, it makes you brave, it makes you say things you wish you hadn't when sober. And with you being lightweight, it isn't exactly ideal to be happy-go-lucky with it, especially knowing how these questions can go from one thing to another real quick.

You thought it's best to share embarrassing things that you can live with to keep the drinking at a minimum, rather than take too much alcohol too fast and say worse things down the line because you got somewhat tipsy or downright drunk. There's really no way of knowing how hard it hits given that different types of alcohol affect you in different ways.

"Okay, it was when we first met, which obviously doesn't make it any less embarrassing, first impressions and all that," you started, sitting straight up as your fingers drummed around the cool surface of your glass. "Me and a friend of mine were at this park and decided it would be fun to rent out these bikes to get around quicker, so we did. Lo and behold, Tom and Harrison were also at said park—"

"Oh yeah, I remember this," Harrison laughed. "This is going to be good."

You shot the blonde lad a quick glare before continuing. "Luck wasn't on my side that day—well, depends on how you look at things because I did meet Tom and seem to have gotten far," you laughed towards the camera, giving Tom a swift glance who was quick to lock eyes with you as he nodded agreeably with a chuckle. "But add that to me being very clumsy and simply put, I fell off the bike right in front of him," you sighed dejectedly, heat coating your cheeks as the lads chuckled in their seats, purely in amusement and not at all in a demeaning way.

"Go on love, let's hear the full thing," Tom encouraged, sitting back on his chair with his arms crossed over his chest to relax, attention fully on you as if he hasn't heard this story many times before. He genuinely does love hearing it. As you've said, it was one of his favourites.

"I'm getting there," you grumbled, narrowing your eyes at Tom who only flashed you an adorable, bright smile, knowing that if he does that, you can't stay mad at him. With a another sigh, you continued, "As we were riding our bikes, we saw him and Harrison sitting on this random bench from afar doing, I don't know, maybe they were on a date or something—"

"Darling, don't try and steer the topic here," Tom laughed. You stuck out your tongue at him—yes, very mature—his laughter only growing louder at your reaction.

"I'm a big fan of the Marvel movies, so obviously, I knew who he was. I was trying to keep my cool, you know, I didn't want to embarrass myself in front of him and thought I'll just ride pass, don't want to disturb whatever they had going on. But as soon as we got near to where they were sat, he looked towards my direction and we made eye contact—"

"The power I have," Tom crooned with a smug smile, earning a pointed eye-roll from you.

"Oh shut up. You know that wasn't the sole reason why I fell," you scoffed. "The chains on my bike went loose so I had no full control over it. We weren't going slowly as well because this friend of mine thought it was a good idea to one up each other so we kept going faster and faster, racing towards who knows what.

"So, my next option was to just plant my foot on the ground to stop it right? But as I've said, luck wasn't on my side that day. Before I could even do it, a rock went under the front wheel—which I didn't see given that I was distracted, you lot know why—and completely took me off balance and the bike went sideways real quick that I didn't have any time to react at all. And...did I roll a few times?" You turned to your boyfriend.

"Twice," he confirmed, a sympathetic smile on his lips as he tilted his head at you sweetly.

"Now, I don't see why you find this story adorable." You narrowed your eyes at your man.

"Not the actual accident, darling. It's what happened after that I found adorable. You were so cute being all shy and embarrassed," Tom defended with a pout. "And you know for a fact that whenever I see you with the smallest scrape or cut I panic and fuss over you immediately."

"You do. A bit too overdramatically," you giggled. It was a bit much sometimes how he worries but that's just Tom being the caring and overprotective boyfriend that he is. "Anyway, so yes, I rolled on the ground twice but all I remember was that I was already lying on my back, watching the sky while my knees, forearms up to my elbows and palms were burning. Then I saw Tom approaching and I swear I was just wishing that the ground would swallow me up right then and there," you finished.

"I quickly rushed to her aid, because you know, I'm Spider-Man," Tom added with a cocky shrugged, arms open wide as if to showcase himself.

There was a loud, collective groan from the lads which earned a laugh from you and a sound of pure protest from Tom.

"It's true!" he exclaimed. "Anyway, she then went, 'oh, my knight and shining armour, my handsome Prince Charming'," Tom gushed, voice at a higher pitch with the utmost exaggeration as he placed the back of his hand over his forehead. "And I went, 'don't worry princess, I'm here to save you,' and then we kissed and lived happily ever after," he concluded with the cheekiest smile.

"We remember this story very differently." You shook your head at him with a hearty laugh. This boy is always something else. "But fine, I'll give you the Prince Charming part because you did look like it.

"What you said was, 'miss, are you alright?' which was very formal of you, especially with the accent." You turned to the camera with a suggestive wiggle of your brows, making Tom drop his head shyly with a chuckle as his cheeks turned slightly pink. "And no, we didn't kiss. You don't kiss people you just met Thomas, get a hold of yourself. He helped me up and was kind enough to offer to take me to the hospital which wasn't needed since it was just a few cuts and scrapes but still insisted that I get checked. Who knew you'd be overprotective since day one," you laughed.

Tom shrugged with a chuckle. "We got to know each other while in the hospital and after she got cleaned up, I thought, I liked talking to her and I really don't want to say goodbye just yet. So, I invited her to lunch which she surprisingly said yes," he teased, sarcasm laced in his tone at his last sentence as he shot the camera a knowing and smug look. You kicked him lightly under the table, the action catching him off guard making him let out a yelp.

"It was more of me being polite because you helped and that. Didn't want to seem rude by saying no," you said, Tom gasping in full offense at your words. You let out a laugh as you rushed, "I'm kidding! Of course I wanted to go to lunch with you. It was impossible to say no because you've been really sweet and a real gentleman that day. And well, it was fun hanging out with you."

Tom smiled widely at that, nothing but pure love coating his features as he held your gaze, hand sneaking over to yours that was on the table and giving it a quick but loving squeeze.

"Where did Harrison go?" Harry wondered, the blonde boy suddenly turning silent and surely enough when you gave him a swift glance, he was already blushing.

"I had my friend with me, Tom had Harrison, you do the math," you said plainly, laughter laced in your tone.

"Oh, so you got some that day," Tuwaine chuckled, nudging the boy beside him with his elbow.

"Shut up, Tuwaine," Harrison grumbled, swatting away his friend lightly.

"But in conclusion, I am a superhero in real life," Tom stated proudly, swiping away the imaginary dust that was lying on his shoulder. He turned to the camera with a bright and wide smile. "But I do thank that bike every day."

"A bit sadistic but okay," you added, looking at Tom skeptically with a scrunch of your nose.

"No! I meant we wouldn't have gotten to know each other if that didn't happen," Tom rushed, lips turning into a pout when you only did nothing but laugh. "You're mean."

"You're just too adorable not to pick on," you giggled, his pout turning more prominent at your words.

You so badly wanted to get up off your seat and give him a proper kiss, but those things are always reserved privately. You two had never been big with public displays of affection, just the casual holding hands and occasional hugs. There are a few instances where you'll sneak a quick kiss while hanging out with friends but that's different compared to it being on tape for the whole world to see later on.

"Anyhow, what's the most embarrassing thing that you have done in front of me?" You asked back, your turn to grin wide because you know which story it was going to be, the way Tom's cheeks were quick to be dusted red was a clear indication that you were right.

"I'm smooth as hell, would never embarrass myself in front of a lady," he said casually, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back on his chair, all cool and suave.

"Oh shut up and tell the story," you said with a playful roll of your eyes, Tom letting out a shy chuckle before he leaned on the table.

"Right, it was our second date and I split my trousers open," he said, short and sweet, though his blush was already deepening because Tom knows the sharing won't stop there.

"Wait, how open?" Tuwaine asked.

"Like full on, centre to back, underwear and inner thighs with a bit of butt showing open. It would have been a bit better if I wore black pants—boxers to the American people—and black trousers right? But me being unlucky, I went for light-coloured denim jeans and black pants that day so it's fully obvious that I did ripped my trousers open," he chuckled shyly, hand going to rub at his shoulder, body slightly crouched as he refused to look away from his glass of gin.

"Go on Thomas, let's hear the full thing," you prodded, throwing his previous words right back at him.

He lifted his head up to shoot you a playful glare, though sat straighter anyway, elbows now on the table with his hands clasped together as he got ready to tell his story. "We were well underway our second date, a simpler one which was a walk in a somewhat less crowded park—"

"What's with you two and parks?" Harrison pointed out with a chuckle.

"Disaster just waiting to happen as you can tell," Tom laughed.

"We've steered clear from parks after all these incidents," you joked with a giggle.

"I did a flip and didn't land the right way was basically what happened," Tom continued, turning to the camera with a look of dismay. "We were walking by a couple of street dancers who were practicing a routine and they were doing all sorts of flips and tricks. She stopped walking completely and watched—wait, correction, stared at this certain bloke who was doing backflips—"

"I was not staring," you butted in. "I was just watching him do his thing and said how cool it was. And why are you making it seem like it's my fault?" you gasped, placing a hand over your heart, feign offence crossing your features.

"I'm not!" Tom laughed, hands up in surrender before he crossed his arms over his chest. "All I'm saying was that I was trying to impress you, which is why I offered to show you a flip. And as everyone in this room knows, I do the stupidest things when trying to impress a girl, especially when I like her that much."

"I was already impressed by you as is Tom, you didn't need to do a flip," you said as a matter of fact, small giggles escaping your lips as you looked at him with nothing but pure adoration. Tom felt his heart melt at the sight and more by your words. "And besides, I already knew you could do it. But somehow you felt the need to prove yourself after you saw me complimenting that dancer," you added.

"It's what you call ego, Tom," Harry laughed.

"Shut up, Harry." Tom shot his brother a glare though chuckled right after because it was in fact a bit true.

It was the silliest thing thinking back on it now, how he just said 'you want to see me do a flip?' out of the blue. You furrowed your brows at him in response, though your smile was laced with amusement. He just wanted to impress you as he'd said. And fine, maybe his ego got struck at teeny bit, and maybe he felt a little jealous that your attention got torn off of him because he truly did like you that much.

But at the end of the day, even though he had a little mishap, it all worked out so he wasn't at all complaining. "Anyway, so I did the flip, completely disregarding the fact that my shoes were slippy and my trousers were tight. I did land upright and not on my face this time so that's something," Tom chuckled. "But my right foot slipped so I was full on going on a wide split which I normally can't do since I am not flexible enough and proceeded to fall on my bum.

"The moment I heard the sound I instantly knew and just went, 'oh no' and remained on the ground because I didn't know what to do then. I was already embarrassed because I slipped, do I really want to tell her I tore open my trousers too?" Tom laughed timidly, the blush on his cheeks turning redder as he rubbed the back of his neck in utter embarrassment.

"I kind of knew right away though because I did hear something rip," you giggled. "He then just slowly stood up, hands behind, flat on his bum and said, 'I split my trousers open' in the smallest voice like a kid who's scared to tell their mum they fell or they'll get scolded. Plus his face was beet red, just like now." You pointed towards your boyfriend, who in turn stuck his tongue out at you as his blush turned into an even deeper shade of crimson.

"Thank God I wore a jacket that day and I was able to at least hide it until we got back to the car or else someone would've clocked it, took a picture, posted it on the internet and it would've made things much worse," Tom pointed out with a chuckle, glad that there was no paparazzi or it would've been a nightmare. "And the fact that you tried so hard not to laugh but still failed made me feel so embarrassed that I was quick to think that that was it. I ruined my chances, no more third date," he added as he turned to you with a small pout.

"I couldn't help laughing because it was the most adorable thing how you went from being all confident and cocksure on doing a flip to this shy boy who refused to look me in the eyes without turning even redder," you said, pure amusement laced in your tone. "But no, that incident made me like you more, it was just too endearing. Third date never left the table after that," you concluded with a sweet smile which only made Tom's grin grow wider.

"Even though she laughed, she was so sweet and kind about it. We had to cut our date shor—actually no, we didn't. We went back to your place and decided to do a movie marathon instead," Tom said fondly, face glowing with joy as the memory brought nothing but warmth across his chest.

"Yeah, with you wearing a pair of my sweatpants," you giggled, mirroring his expression as your mind recalled the sweet moment of you and him, simply cuddled up on the couch.

"And that's on getting the girl by splitting your trousers open," Tom said with a smug smile, pointing at the camera as he shot it a knowing look with a wriggle of his brows.

"And getting the boy by falling off a bike," you added, doing exactly what he did as you turned to face the lens.

"Look at us," Tom gushed, looking back at you with a smile, reaching across the table to take your hand in his. "Hey, look at us."

"Look at us. Who would've thought?" you giggled, giving his hand a squeeze in return.

You were always quick to catch on what he was trying to do that Tom couldn't help but smile widely, heart melting ten times over at the thought of you knowing him so well. "Not me," Tom chuckled, letting go of your hand and holding up his palm for a high-five to which you gladly obliged with laughs of your own.

"You two are made for each other," Harry chuckled with a shake of his head, now just getting that you two were recreating the famous Paul Rudd meme.

"My turn right?" Tom asked. You nodded with a hum as you pushed the pile of cards towards him. He let out a loud scoff once he read the question, his reaction making you raise a brow in both curiosity and slight dread. "Be honest," he said as he looked up from the paper, gaze landing on you. "Who do you love more, me," he paused for dramatic effect, narrowing his eyes at you before continuing, "Or Tessa?"

You let out a small groan as you hang your head low, fingers tracing the side of your cold glass. You let out a sigh of defeat before you met Tom's expectant gaze. "I can't possibly answer that question," you grumbled, bringing the glass up to your lips as you took a swift drink before placing it back down.

"That was such a tiny sip," Harrison pointed out.

"Alright, alright, I guess we can tell who the bad influence here is," you said with a teasing roll of your eyes, but still took another drink anyway, taking in more of it this time around. You just want to play the game fair and square. "You actually made that really well. It's really good," you hummed at Tom as you placed your drink back down, the lad grinning widely in response.

"Why thank you, darling," Tom crooned, voice smooth with a pride-filled smile, pushing over the pile of cards back in the middle of the table to get you to ask the next question.

"Okay, who wrote this?" You turned to the boys behind the camera with a raise of your brow. "If the alcohol wasn't going to do it, then this will definitely get the video restricted, unless you're going to bleep some words out?" You turned to Harry.

"I've got that covered," Harry laughed.

Glancing back at the card you had on hand, you asked, "If our sex life was porn, what genre would it be?" You looked up at Tom to see him try his best to hold back a smirk.

"Nope, not answering that," he laughed with a shake of his head as he lifted his glass off the table. "Mainly because there are too many genres that it would fit for me to only pick one," Tom muttered softly against his drink as he looked at you through his lashes. His words were muffled but you still heard it, you were closer to him after all. You felt your cheeks heat up at that, even more so when your man shot you a teasing wink before downing the shot of gin not long after.

Tom set his glass down and reached over to take another card. "What does your family think of me?" he asked with a clear of his throat.

"Well..." You slowly dragged your drink closer to you, Tom's mouth falling agape that you couldn't help but burst into a hearty laugh. "I'm kidding! You already know how much they love you," you said. "I mean, my parents call him 'son' so." You shrugged as you turned to the camera. Tom puffed out his chest all proud with a very smug smile on his lips. You rolled your eyes, sighing as you added, "They probably even love you more than they love me."

Tom chuckled, "My family loves you more than they love me, too—"

"I can vouch for that," Harry intervened.

"Thanks, Harry," Tom said sarcastically, flashing his brother a forced smile. Turning back to you, he finished, "So, I guess we're even."

You could only nod with a soft giggle, reaching over to the stack of cards to keep the pace going. "Lads! What's with these kinds of questio—you know what, I don't even expect any less from you guys," you sighed, pursing your lips as you re-read the question again before sitting straight up and looked into Tom's eyes. "What would you do if you caught me watching porn?" you asked.

"Watch it with you and help get it done, duh?" he answered without hesitation, leaning back on his chair as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Have done a couple times actually," Tom murmured, somewhat to himself, though not really since everyone in the room—and pretty sure the camera—heard it.

"Tom!" you hissed.

You felt your body tingle, legs instinctively closing together as the countless moments it happened replayed itself inside your brain. Although what he said wasn't false, it wasn't the full truth either. He didn't exactly catch you red handed, never did since you don't watch porn often.

All you did was asked him—merely out of curiosity—what type he mostly watches. Your question sparked an idea in his head which led to you sitting in between his legs, bare back against his naked chest as the laptop sat right in front of you both with the video of his choice.

Tom then made his way with you while you watched, making sure you never take your eyes off the couple on screen or else. He was always fully in control over you every time you do it, his fingers sometimes delicate, mostly rough, touch hot and heavy all over your skin, lips warm on your neck, teeth sharp against your bare shoulder as he brings you to the edge over and over and over with nothing but his hands. And once the video ends, Tom will take it upon himself to re-enact the whole of it with you—if you could still take it of course—bringing what was on screen to real life, full recreation from start to finish.

Best believed you're properly blissed out at the stop of every play.

Your boyfriend's eyes widened once he realized the actual volume of his voice, face turning a deep shade of red, sitting straight abruptly as he rushed, "No! Wait—dammit." Tom casted his eyes down shyly when the boys let out exaggerated gasps and sounds of disapproval, a telltale sign that they already heard it. "I'm sorry, darling." He met your gaze again as he shot you a sheepish smile, his head tilted to the side guiltily to which you only responded with a shake of your head.

Typical Thomas.

"Bleurgh, too much info," Harrison gagged, the other boys following suit with their own sounds of repulsion.

"Oh fuck off you divs. You guys wrote the questions so obviously, you wanted to find out," Tom countered, shooting the lads a glare each.

"We didn't expect you to actually answer it!" Harry defended.

"We're cutting that whole part out, no way that's going up online," you grumbled, eyes staring at nothing but your drink as you tried to hide the obvious embarrassment that's coated your features.

Tom reached across the table to give your hand a squeeze, you meeting his gaze to see him mouth a gentle 'I'm sorry.' You flashed him a sweet smile, squeezing his hand in return to tell him that it was alright. It wasn't live so there wasn't any real harm done, aside from future jokes from the boys. That you can deal with than having that confidential information on the internet which will then follow you around for the rest of eternity.

Letting go of your hand, Tom sat straighter and turned to the camera. "If you guys are wondering why there's a jump cut and my face is suddenly so red, it's because I spilled something I shouldn't have that we had to cut it out. And no, it's something you'll never find out," he chuckled shyly, knowing that once the video goes out, fans are going to be so annoyed and will pester him—and everyone in the room—nonstop to try and find out what was cut.

Better that, than embarrassing you in front of millions though, so he'll deal with them no problem. Because as promised, if you weren't comfortable with it staying in the video, then it gets cut out, no questions asked. You and what you're comfortable with always come first in Tom's book.

"Yet again, thank God we didn't do this live," you muttered with a playful roll of your eyes.

Tom shot you one last apologetic smile before he cleared his throat, "Right, moving on." He shifted in his seat and took another card from the pile. "What's the one thing you'd change about me?" he asked.

"Your height," you answered without missing a beat. You chewed on your lip to suppress a grin but still failed miserably, especially when Tom looked at you with his jaw hanging and his eyes wide open.

A chorus of 'ooh's erupted from the boys which only prompted a laugh from you, the joyous sound growing louder when they started to rub it to Tom even more.

"Pfft, apply ice on the burnt area," Harry said as he blew out his cheeks.

"Mate, she's just bodied you with that," Tuwaine tutted at Tom, rising up from his seat soon after to offer you a high-five. You gladly obliged with a laugh, Tom gawking at you with utmost betrayal on his face.

"You're lucky you're very cute, especially when you laugh," Tom grumbled as he shot you a playful glare. The crinkles on the corner of your eyes deepened as you only smiled brightly at him with a tilt of your head, which honestly made you look even more endearing. He could never be mad at you, too whipped to hold a grudge no matter how much you tease him. And besides, that's all there is to it, nothing but teasing jokes and banter.

"If I were you, Tom, I'd start taking those growth pills before she starts to question why she's even with you," Harrison proposed jokingly which earned boisterous laughter from the rest of the gang.

"You lot are so fucking overdramatic. I'm not that short," Tom quipped with a roll of his eyes, gaze landing back on you with his famous pout now in play yet again. "And babe, it's a truth or drink video, not a roast me video," he stated, palms flat on cool marble as he looked at you with puppy-dog eyes.

"I'm joking! I'm joking," you rushed with a giggle. "I wouldn't change a single thing. You know I love you, just the way you are," you sang the last line, though your voice held nothing but sincerity as you reached over to give his hand a loving squeeze. Tom nodded with a sigh, though never did he doubt your words, knowing it deep in his bones that physical traits would never outweigh how much you love him, no matter what.

"Right, let's keep this going," you said as you took another card. "Who is smarter, me or you?" you asked.

"Me," Tom said proudly.

"Well, that's a lie," you objected.

Tom couldn't help but laugh at that, nodding at you as he chuckled, "It's you, obviously. Have you seen the last video?"

"Hmm, I don't know, I think Tom's smarter. I mean, you decided to date him, Y/N, which isn't exactly the brightest decision," Harry inferred, earning a loud gasp from his older brother.

"Excellent point," you agreed, your boyfriend's head whipping towards your direction with nothing but absolute offense written on his face.

"Babe! You're supposed to be on my side!" Tom exclaimed. "Why are we roasting me all of a sudden?" he complained.

"You're just too fun to pick on," you laughed, Tom's bottom lip jutting out at your words. "Especially when you do that, too cute," you pointed out, the apples of Tom's cheek turning pink as a smile grew on his lips at the compliment. "But I am smarter," you concluded, shooting the camera a wink.

"Will not refute," Tom chuckled, keeping the flow of the game as he took another card. "If you weren't with me, who of my brothers would you consider dating?" he said, voice pitching higher at the last few words. A look of downright disgust covered Tom's face immediately as he looked at the boys behind the camera who were snickering like the mischievous little shits that they are. "You lot are grim."

You matched Tom's expression, scrunching your nose as you shook your head quickly. Having been with Tom long enough, you now see the three of the Holland boys as your own brothers, so the mere thought of dating any of them is just—

"I'm not even going to think about it," you grumbled as you took a sip of your cocktail and then picked a card right away. "Who's the celebrity who you were the most disappointed with when you met them?" you continued swiftly, a smile on your lips as you looked at Tom who let out a sigh.

"You know I can't answer that," he stated in a matter-of-fact tone, your smile growing wider as you picked up the bottle of gin and refilled his glass. "Thank you, darling," he chuckled with a shake of his head, taking a drink right after.

"Is there anyone in my friend group, famous or not, that you do not like?" Tom continued with a raise of his brow, gaze steady on you.

You emptied your glass—that was still half full—without a single word and placed it back down with a small burp. "Oh, excuse me," you cleared your throat with a laugh.

Tom's brows furrowed at you in mere curiosity, gesturing for your glass so he can remake you another drink. You slid it over to him with a soft 'thank you' and a sweet smile. He started opening up the bottle of juice though his eyes were still on you, narrowed in pure skepticism.

"Who?"

"Not part of the question, Tom," you said, flashing him an innocent smile

"I know who it is," Harry coughed fakely.

"Me too," Tuwaine added with a fake cough of his own.

"It's Harrison because he's trying to take you away from me," you commented, laughing at how the blonde lad gasped in utter protest.

"That's a lie because I know who it is too," Harrison defended.

"So, everyone knows except me?" Tom mused, rolling his eyes in the process.

"What else is new?" you giggled with a shrugged, Tom only sighing as he shot you yet another pout. This boy never ceases to use it since he knows you always swoon whenever he does. 'I'll tell you later,' you mouthed, making him nod with a proud smile.

You gently leaned back on your seat, closing your eyes when you felt a little woozy. You took in slow, deep breaths, the marble cold against your palms as your body started to grow warmer from head to toe.

Maybe downing that drink wasn't the best idea.

"You okay, darling?" Tom asked sweetly, tilting his head at you in worry as he went to take your hand in his. His brows knitted together when your skin felt unusually warm in his palms.

"Yeah," you giggled, opening your eyes to meet his concern-filled brown ones, flashing him a reassuring smile and a nod to match as you gave his hand a squeeze. "Just the alcohol slowly kicking in."

"Want to take a minute, sweetheart?"

"No, I'm good. Go on and ask the question bubba," you prompted as you beamed at him, Tom's heart melting at the beautiful curve on your features and more by the sound of that sweet nickname. Although, he knew that you'd reached your calm before the storm.

You're always smiley and extra sweet when you start to get a little tipsy. But from here on out, especially if you decide to take even more alcohol, you start switching from calm to giddily energetic. That's when the words would start flowing out your lips before your brain could even register what you've just said.

Tom replaced your hand with a white card once he was sure you were fine. A cheeky grin erupted on his face as he asked, "What's your favourite sex position?"

You pursed your lips, eyes landing on the ceiling, fingers drumming on the marble surface of the table as you pondered on it for a second. Tom watched you intently, a soft chuckle escaping him when you met his gaze again with a sweet yet shy smile.

"I've got three though," you said, mostly to him but in a not-so-hush tone. Your mind and your mouth don't cooperate sometimes when there's alcohol in the mix.

"Different one for a different mood," Tom hummed with a smirk, finishing up your drink with a squeeze of lime, mixing it up before sliding it back towards you. "Just say one or take a drink, darling."

"I need to slow down with drinking or else I'll be saying much worse things. I can already feel my filter shutting down," you breathed out, tilting your head to the side as you gazed at Tom for a bit of help. "But do I really want this out in the world?"

"Oh, go on Y/N, live a little," Harrison prodded with nothing but utter mischief in his eyes.

You don't know why but somehow, Harrison words were the last straw for that burst of confidence to suddenly overflow. Boldness coated your every nerve as you squeezed your eyes shut and straight up blurted,

"Doggy."

Tom's eyes grew wide, both of his brows rising as he looked at you surprised. Yes, doggy was one of your—and his—favourites, he already knew that, what surprised him was you actually saying it out loud. Although he was swift to turn cocky as he leaned back on his seat, arms crossed over his chest while he kept his gaze steady on you.

As you peaked one eye, you saw that certain smirk of his now playing on his pink lips, one you only ever see privately. You felt your face heat up at that, added from the alcohol and embarrassment. The warmth was quick to spread to the rest of your body though, with the way he was looking at you, it was so hard for it not too. And as your eyes fully soaked him in, gaze traveling from his handsome face sporting that teasing smirk to his bulging biceps, the temperature could only rise. Your senses was now somewhat heightened that you were able to notice every single thing that made your man so fucking attractive and downright hot.

Since when did his hoodie grow even tighter? And damn, why is it so hot all of a sudden? It's probably the alcohol, or mainly just Tom, or simply both.

"Favourite type of porn!" you hear someone from the gang call out—probably Harrison since he's been causing trouble from the very start—interrupting your thoughts. With the alcohol in your system, just as expected, your brain genuinely forgot to take control of your tongue before you could even tell yourself: 'don't!'

"Sometimes hardcore," you let out, slapping your hand over your mouth immediately as your eyes grew wide. You quickly met Tom's eyes, his brown orbs glowing with shock, amusement and a sprinkle of lust. He gave you a soft nod with a soft smile in response, confirming that yes, you said it out loud, and yes it was already too late. "Oh no, this was what I meant when I needed to slow down on alcohol," you groaned, rubbing your hand over your warm face before looking back across your man with a pout.

"Aye! Hardcore doggy yeah?" Harrison cheered teasingly, moving towards Tom and giving his best friend a pat on the shoulder. Tom threw his head back with a laugh, face red but the look of utmost pride was also there. Harrison swiftly offered his fist to Tom, to which the brunette gladly indulged, their knuckles colliding as chuckles escaped the two mates.

You let out a choked laugh as your eyes widened in surprise, jaw going slack with your face heating up even more. "Did you guys just fist bump to that?"

"I mean." Tom shrugged, throwing his hands up with the smuggest grin, causing you to shake your head dejectedly with a groan. You shot Harrison a pointed glare when he went back to his seat, still snickering to his heart's content as if his master plan was in the works.

What a little shit.

"I'm definitely not going to let my parents watch this video," you mumbled with a roll of your eyes.

"I've got a question for Tom though," Tuwaine started, though the glimmer in his eyes told you it wasn't a clean one. "Do you grab it or do you smack it?"

Tom wheezed before erupting into a very rowdy laugh, hands slapping on his thigh as his body shook in nothing but pure enjoyment, his face red from a mixture of embarrassment, glee and the alcohol.

"Oh my—right! Next question!" you squeaked, not giving your boyfriend any time to answer as you attempted to swiftly move on.

"Wait, wait," Tom breathed out as he slowly calmed down, getting up from his seat as he went over to your side. "Harry stop recording for a sec," he called out to his younger brother before he gestured for you to turn until your back was facing the camera.

Tom crouched down in front of you, hands on your knees with a sweet, reassuring smile on his lips. "We'll edit out the parts you're not comfortable with to stay in the vid, alright?" he stated softly.

You nodded with a smile of your own, taking his hand in yours as you played with his fingers. "I'm not opposed to keeping the last two questions since everyone has their favourite position and type of porn. It's normal," you hummed, tilting your head at him as you added, "You saying you've helped me with, you know, that was much more private though, 'cause it's our thing."

"I know, I'm sorry, love," Tom apologized, voice soft but coated with sincerity as his hand went up to cup your face lovingly, brown eyes gazing up into yours with just the same emotions. "We're cutting that part out, I promise."

"But you think your fans would take these questions well?" you queried, leaning into his touch in a way that made Tom's heart do flips inside his chest.

He nodded. "Yeah, I think it's fine. The video is going to be age restricted anyway. And besides, we're both adults, so there's nothing wrong with it," he explained. You hummed in agreement, leaning your head on his hand as you closed your eyes with a soft sigh, your skin very warm against his palm. Tom moved closer to give your lips a sweet peck. "Want some water angel?"

"No, I'm good." You smiled, Tom nodding as he mirrored your grin, giving your lips another kiss before he stood back to his full height and then sat back on his seat.

Shooting Harry the go signal to start recording again, Tom chuckled, "Sorry, needed to cool down for a sec after that." He turned towards the camera, tugging at the collar of his hoodie as he blew out his cheeks to get a point across.

You could only roll your eyes at your man, his laugh growing louder at your reaction. Swiftly taking a card from the pile, you continued with the game. "Is this going to be the theme from here on out, lads?" you asked, eyeing the boys behind the camera suspiciously before you turned back to Tom. "Is there something in the bedroom you'd like to try that you haven't told me?"

Tom's cheeks turned even redder at the question, completely shying away now as his hand went to rub at his shoulder. "I can't think of one right now," he muttered as he looked at you sheepishly. "But no, I'm not answering that since we talk about that off camera anyway," Tom settled with a timid chuckle, refilling his glass and taking a drink of the gin soon after.

"Your turn," you giggled, pushing the pile towards him.

"Oh, okay. What a way to shift the topic," Tom breathed out, scanning the card one more time as he sat up straighter. "If I was in a coma how long would you wait for me?" he asked, meeting your gaze with a tender smile.

"I'll keep waiting for you until you wake up, no matter how long," you answered, without even a single inch of doubt, despite the slight shake in your voice as your eyes started to well up. "Never giving up on you."

"Darling," Tom cooed softly with a pout, the screeching sound of his chair echoing around the space as he pushed his seat back. He went back over to your side quickly, remaining on his feet as he leaned down to engulf you in a tight and warm embrace, swaying you side to side in the most comforting way as he whispered sweet nothings against your hair.

You buried your face in his chest with a shaky breath, the material of his hoodie soft against your cheek. You willed your brain not to think much of it, to not dwell on that thought and focus more on the Tom's warmth that's coated you right now. Or else you'll end up a bawling mess, and with the alcohol in your system, it's not a good idea to start crying now.

Your man pulled away gently with a charming smile, cupping your face with both hands as he towered over your seated form. "I'd do the exact same, just so you know," he hummed, brown eyes locked with yours, his thumbs caressing your cheeks fondly before he dipped his head to capture your lips in a loving kiss. You let out a sweet sigh as you melt at the feeling of his soft lips on yours, mind and heart at ease at familiar warmth. The gesture wasn't fully caught on camera though given that you were turned at the opposite direction.

"I love you," you hummed against his lips.

Tom chuckled sweetly, giving you a few more pecks on the lips before pulling away completely, staring right into your eyes as he whispered, "And I love you."

With that he went back to his seat again, flashing you one of his many charming grins before he turned to the group behind the camera.

"You lot are onto something I can tell," Tom said as he raised a brow at the lads who suspiciously grew quiet, looking everywhere in the room but at you two.

Not thinking much of it, you swiftly took another card and read the question. "What would you do if you suddenly get a call that I was gone?" you trailed off at the end of your sentence, brows knitting together as you turned to the group behind the camera. "Guys, this is a cruel question."

"Oh," Tom faltered, smile slowly slipping away from his face as he casted his eyes at his drink.

"Tom, you don't have to answer it," you called out softly, frown deep on your lips as you reached over to take both his hands in yours. But it was already too late when he squeezed your hand tightly, lifting his head back up to meet your gaze and you felt your heart ache. That's when you saw that his mind was already there, brown orbs glossed up as he let out a shaky breath.

"I'd literally shut down," he croaked. "I-I don't know what'd I do if that happens. I just can't imagine my life without you. I—" he stopped, head dropping as his voice broke.

"Oh Tom, come here," you cooed as you immediately got out of your seat and rounded the table, turning him around and away from shot for a bit of privacy. You squatted in between his legs that were spread apart to be much closer to him, gently cupping his face with both your hands so that you were now within eye level. "Hey, look at me," you whispered when you were met by eyes that were screwed shut.

With a deep intake of breath, Tom willed his eyes to open. He looked at you with a small smile playing on his lips, heart steadying at the sight of your beautiful orbs boring into his own. He leaned forward to close the distance between you two, just so he could feel your lips on his. Tom badly needed to. A soft satisfied sigh erupted out your chest as your hand took home on his warm cheek.

"I'm still here bubba. I'm not going anywhere," you hummed against his lips before giving him warm kisses all over his face that made him stifle out a small laugh. You pulled away a little with a loving smile, wiping away the few tears that sat on his skin with your thumb, your touch gentle and warm.

"I love you so much, you know that?" Tom whispered as he looked at you fondly, nudging the tip of his nose with yours in a wholesome manner.

"I love you too, you sweet, soft boy," you giggled, placing a sweet peck on his lips before pulling him in for a hug. You lifted your head up to shoot each of the boys a sharp glare, the three cowering away in their seats as they each said their soft apologies.

Pulling away with a smile, you cupped Tom's face with a hum, "Better?"

"Loads," Tom sighed with a sweet smile, leaning in for one last peck before he lets you go back to your seat. "You purposely put that in there to make me cry didn't you?" Tom spoke, narrowing his eyes at boys who only shrugged in feign innocence. "You lot are evil I tell you."

"Now let's get back on a lighter note!" you exclaimed, pushing the cards towards Tom since it was his turn to ask.

Tom pursed his lips as his brows furrowed at the question. "If you could sleep with any person in the world, who would it be?" he wondered, eyes locking with yours in warning. "Now, careful with your answer, love," he hummed.

"Is that a threat Holland?" you challenged with a raise of your brow.

"I'm just saying, I may already know or will meet this person in the futur—"

"Chris Hemsworth," you blurted, Tom's mouth falling open as he gawked at you in shock. "I'm kidding," you rushed with a hearty laugh.

"Are you though?" Tom doubted, squinting at you suspiciously.

You bit your bottom lip as you held his gaze, Tom letting out a loud gasp when you suddenly took a drink all while maintaining eye contact with him.

"I'm going to have a word with you later missy," he grumbled, voice suddenly an octave deeper, somewhat a soft growl, one that you felt down to your core.

You shifted in your seat with a clear of your throat, shooting him an innocent smile as you said, "To be fair, you did say—publicly may I add—that you'd sleep with Hemsworth too when you did fuck, marry and kill with the three Chrises so, roll the clip!"

Tom shook his head at you with a playful roll of his eyes. "Touché," he sighed, brows furrowed in confusion when you suddenly covered your mouth.

"Oops, I just realized I said the F-word, sorry Harry," you said meekly, a certain smile on your lips which guaranteed that you were now dancing onto drunken territory. Tom knows you like the back of his hand, if the way you were smiling wasn't enough then, the simple look in your eyes would let him know that the alcohol has fully hit you this time.

"It's alright. One bleep word is nothing compared to last week's video. And it's not like this video has been clean anyway," the young twin chuckled.

"So, Fuck Hemsworth, who are you marrying and who are you killing?" Tuwaine asked.

"Marry Evans, Kill Pratt," you answered promptly.

Tom leaned back on his seat as he crossed his arms over his chest, running his tongue over his teeth slowly all while staring you down. "That's a quick answer Y/N," he hummed, shooting you a teasing glare.

"Oh please, yours was quick too, Thomas," you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest as you mirrored him, never backing down from his stare even though it was making you feel certain things.

"Wait, if you're marrying Evans and killing Pratt, and I'm marrying Pratt and killing Evans, does that mean we're set out to kill each other's husband?" Tom started as he leaned forward and towards the table.

"So, if you were successful in killing Evans, and I was successful in killing Pratt, that means we're both widowed," you continued, laying your hands now flat on the marble surface.

"Meaning there's still a chance that we will still end up together. Meant to be if you ask me," Tom concluded, lifting up a hand.

You moved forward to give him a high-five, missing his hand by a lot which made you let out a loud, hearty laugh, Tom following suit with laughs of his own.

"What are you two on?" Harrison said with a crinkle of his nose.

"Alcohol," you and Tom answered at the same time. Both of your mouths turned into the shape of O's as you looked at each other properly delighted.

"Jinx!" both of you exclaimed in unison. "Jinx again!"

"Our mental synchronization; can have but one explanation," you and Tom sang in harmony, never breaking your gaze as you both smiled proudly.

"You—"

"And I—"

"Were—"

"Just—"

"Meant to be!" You two ended with fits of laughter, raising your hands to go for another high five. You missed Tom's hand again which only made you wheeze, tears of joy brimming in yours and his eyes as you tried for the second time, both of you cheering loudly when it finally landed.

"Cringe, really made for each other," Harry gagged teasingly with a grimace to match.

And then Harrison intervened. "How about fuck, marry, kill, Tom Hiddleston, Tom Felton and," he paused, grin turning wider like a Cheshire cat as he wiggled his eyebrows at you. "Tom Holland?"

"That's not part of the game," you protested with a pout.

"Answer the question, darling," Tom encouraged, looking at you expectantly.

"I'm taking a shot," you muttered, going for your drink but before you could even do so, Tom had already taken it far away from your reach. "Hey!" you whined.

Tom chuckled softly as he shook his head no. "You said it's not part of the game so no, you have to answer," he said. "And that's enough alcohol for you, my love," he cooed, tilting his head at you knowingly with a sweet smile. If Tom will let you continue with the drinking then you'll surely be complaining nonstop about the throbbing headache you'll get and the constant nausea after all this.

You sat back on your chair with your bottom lip jutted out, arms crossed over your chest to match, much like a child as you started to think about your answer. Although the process took way longer than you'd expect it to be and the boys were quick to notice.

"Uh oh, she's having a hard time," Harry teased when a few long seconds has gone by and you still haven't given an answer.

"I don't know how I feel about the hesitation here," Tom admitted as he looked at you curiously, brows furrowing with a chuckle when you were still deep in thought after a few seconds more.

"She genuinely is having a hard time," Tuwaine laughed.

"This is so unfair," you grumbled dejectedly as you looked at your man with a sweet, adorable pout, silently asking for help.

"What'd you do with me first to make things easier," Tom offered with a chuckle.

As if there was a hidden message to his words—there wasn't—your face suddenly lit up, slapping your palms on the table excitedly as you sat straighter. "You know what, kill the other two and I'll fuck and marry you," you declared heartily, eyes locked securely with Tom's with the proudest grin playing on your lips.

Tom's heart did somersaults at the mere fact of you wanting to marry him, grin wide and bright as he stared into your orbs, utmost love glowing in yours that was wholesomely mirrored by his brown ones.

It wasn't long until Tom felt his blood rush down though, heat dancing on his skin as his brain got occupied with the thought of you fucking him too. Certain memories flooded his mind, one after the other that it was getting harder for him to stay calm in his seat.

You are honestly giving him a whiplash with how you make him feel one emotion to another in a span of seconds, though Tom wasn't at all complaining.

"That's not how the game works!" Harrison exclaimed.

"I'm pretty happy with that answer," Tom shrugged with a wide, cocky grin, eyes never leaving yours as he raised a brow at you suggestively. You held his gaze with a tilt of your head, bottom lip caught between your teeth to try and stop your smile from growing.

The interaction didn't go unnoticed by Harry though. "Okay, stop eye-fucking each other you horny teenagers," the younger brother complained.

Tom laughed at that, shifting in his seat as he turned towards the camera. "On that note, we're ending the video there. This has been Tom Holland," he paused, giving you a nod as a cue.

"And Mrs. Holland," you blurted at the camera with a smile, eyes widening once you realised the choice of words you've just used. "Oh wait! No! Fuc—I don't mean no as in 'no,' I meant not yet," you fumbled. "We're not even engaged yet! Don't start with the headlines you." You pointed at the camera in warning.

He shook his head with a chuckle, red tinting his cheeks but pure admiration glowed in his eyes. "You own my fucking heart, you know that? You make me melt all the damn time," Tom gushed through gritted teeth, and it was taking a whole lot of his self-control to not jump over the table and just kiss you senseless. You felt your heart grow at his words but you could only bury your face in your hands with a groan of pure embarrassment. "She's drunk, my apologies," Tom added with a laugh as he turned towards the camera.

"Tipsy, there's a difference," you corrected as you shot him a glare.

Tom chuckled, smiling at you widely before turning back to the lens. "Anyway, see you on the next one and peace!" he finished with the sign and then a salute, Harry throwing out an upturned thumb to signal cut.

Once he saw that the camera was off, Tom was out of his seat in record speed, moving over to your now standing form as he swiftly wrapped both his arms around your waist and crashed his lips onto yours with a low groan. His arms tightened around you as he relished the feeling of finally having you so close.

You giggled against the kiss, resting your arms over his shoulders as you leaned back on the table to keep your balance, your bum half-rested on the marble while your foot stayed steady on the floor, legs apart so that Tom can situate himself between them easily.

"So, fuck and marry me huh?" Tom hummed deeply against your mouth, playfully nibbling at your bottom lip before pulling away so he can see your gorgeous face fully.

"Out of all the things I've said, that's what stuck with you?" you giggled with a shake of your head.

"I mean, you fucking me will never fail to sound very hot, reminds me of the few times you did." Tom wriggled his brows at you suggestively, hands giving your waist as teasing squeeze. "Though I don't know which one's hotter, that or you marrying me," he said with the proudest smirk.

"Will you two take this somewhere else?" Harry complained, always the last one to be left in the room given that he's mostly in-charge with taking care of the camera. Harrison and Tuwaine were already gone, continuing whatever they had to do that day.

"Don't think that would make a difference though," Tom chuckled smugly, looking back at you with a knowing grin.

"Which reminds me how we need to sound proof the fucking walls you nasty rabbits."

"I was kidding. We're not that loud fuck off," Tom remarked, rolling his eyes at his brother.

And to prove how wrong Tom's point was, Harrison suddenly started moaning so piercingly right in the next room, his voice a bit muffled but you can still hear him, loud and obnoxious.

"Fuck! Love! Fuck yes! Just like that, darling! Shit baby I'm gonna—"

"Fuck off Harrison you fucking twat!" Tom yelled at the top of his lungs, the blonde lad's boisterous and annoying laugh echoing soon after.

Tom turned crimson red as the embarrassment coated him from head to toe, head dropping for him to hide his face on the crook of your neck with a groan. You let out a soft giggle, hand landing on the back of his head as you ran your fingers through his hair comfortingly. Your face was warm as you were embarrassed just the same, although there was more of a sense of pride on your behalf because yes, Tom does get a bit loud sometimes, all courtesy to you.

It wasn't always of course, both of you aren't evil enough to torture the lads that much. Aside from the fact that Tom is rarely even home—meaning you don't do the deed that much in this house—the two of you had made a pact to make sure that you're completely alone before properly going at it. Admittedly, it does get a bit hard to keep the noise down sometimes, so the boys have to endure it every now and then. They do get back at you guys soon after as they are quick to be little shits with the teasing and dirty jokes, much like now.

"Maybe we do need to soundproof our walls," you teased once your man pulled away to look at you with a soft sigh, hands running up and down your waist sweetly.

"Or we could finally look for our own place to move in?" Tom proposed with a charming smile, your heart melting at the sight and skipping a beat at his words.

Granted, you've been with Tom for a fair three and a half years already, but neither of you had gone to take that step of actually living fully on your own where it's just no one but him and you in your own home. You've been living in this house for roughly the same time—maybe a year or two less—and you've got no problem living with the lads, you consider them as your brothers now. But you won't deny that having a place exclusively for you and Tom only would be pure bliss.

Of course you've talked about getting your own place and neither of you were opposed to it. It all just came down to Tom being constantly busy and barely even home. You'd rather live with the boys for the mean time than sulk all alone in a house while slowly being buried in the emotions of missing your boyfriend.

Tom also wanted to be there for the most of it—choosing and buying furniture, decorating a thing or two, moving, the likes—but with his schedule, it was hard to find the perfect time.

But now he's promised you that he'd slow down for a bit.

He genuinely hasn't done anything but work nonstop. It was just projects upon projects with only so little breaks in between, a month if he's lucky. Tom is one hardworking man, that's one of the many things you love about him, but he sometimes doesn't realize when he's pushing himself too far.

That's when you step in.

You'd encouraged him to take a breather, even if it's just for half a year or so but you never did pester him about it constantly as you weren't one to take him away from doing what he loves. Unless it gets way out of hand, then that's when you'll be putting your foot down. You know he'll do it whenever he's ready to slow down and now with most of his projects wrapped, he's finally decided that it was the right time to take that much needed break.

"I love the sound of that," you giggled, treading your fingers through his hair before tracing it down his chiseled jaw. "Not as much as I love the sound of you moaning though," you hummed teasingly.

"Well then, let's find our own place so you can hear me moan all for you and as loud as you want, darling," Tom purred lowly, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as his darkened orbs bored into yours, his hands sliding down to rest on the swell of your bum. He fondled the flesh hotly as he started to lean closer to capture your lips. But before Tom could even do so a loud voice made you both jump away from each other.

"For fuck's sake guys! I'm still fucking here!" Harry yelled, throwing both his hands in the air in downright annoyance and disgust as he screwed his eyes shut. "Go to your fucking room for the love of my sanity!"

You didn't even get a chance to apologise to the young lad as Tom swiftly grabbed your hand and rushed to your shared bedroom.

Nothing happened though apart from a couple minutes of making out, Tom deciding not to take it further given that you were all tipsy and intoxicated. Him deciding since you were persistent on saying you were fine even though you were giggling nonstop, easily tickled no matter how feather-like his kisses were. Not to mention how you could barely even keep your eyes open. So, both of you ended up taking a warm bath and then a nap right after that, instead.

Although the minute you sobered up, Tom made sure you weren't at all quiet this time around. It was due to the pent up tension that's been building since that somewhat steamy Q&A. And maybe, just maybe to get back at the boys a teeny bit for being little shits with both the teasing jokes and the dirty questions.

The two of you went out of your bedroom only at dinner time, stepping foot in the dining area where Harry, Tuwaine and Harrison were all situated. You felt the embarrassment coat every inch of your body when you took sight of the boys, more specifically, their expressions. Tom, on the other hand, had the cockiest smirk playing on his lips as he held his head high, tauntingly chuckling at his mates.

The three lads were sitting around the table with nothing but grimaces and downright disgust on their faces as they all grumbled in unison,

"Rabbits."

-:-:-:-:-

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[youryanderedaddy]

Love Fuel

Summary: You were Jason’s first love before you broke his heart and rejected him. It’s all your fault that he can’t move on.

Tw: female reader, obsessive behavior, incel behavior, nice guy behavior, self - hatred, threats of non-con, implied non - con, implied masturbation, bullying based on appearance (not reader), deregatory language, kidnapping, misogyny, generalizations, stalking

this is a hot mess but its 1 am and i am tired, ik that incels are bad irl (obviously), but this is fiction and I kinda wanted to explore the dynamic and shit. 

Everyone used to call him JJ or The-Big-Jay back in high school. Well, most of the time his classmates weren’t really calling out to him or even talking to him, the names were whispered behind his back, after he had just passed the hallway, or on bad days - right to his face. The jocks, these dumb motherfuckers, would beat him up, mock him for whatever stupid reasons they had chosen to use as an excuse to torment the smaller and weaker. The popular girls would giggle like brainless bimbos as Kyle or Brad or any other football player stole his glasses or continuously punched him in the guts until he threw up all over the floor. Even the nerds, the kids at the bottom of the school hierarchy, messed with Jason from time to time when they wanted to feel the oh - so desired rush of power they so rarely managed to experience. 

Looking back, Jason could see why his classmates hated him so much - he was everything that society deemed as wrong and unattractive. He was thin, pale, “scrawny” as the others called him, on the shorter side, and on top of that the teen was terribly shy and introverted, never having the guts to stand up to his bullies or even tell someone about the abuse. The male spent most of his free time at home, playing hours upon hours of video games, watching anime and reading books he was simply too young to understand or look critically at. As he grew older, the man began to view the world as it trully was - a dark, miserable place that ate up sore losers like him. Men were primitive and foolish, which somehow managed to soften their faults. Women, on the other hand, were  calculative and manipulative, greedy and sinful. His whole life they had done nothing but reject him when he needed love and support the most. Of course, there were many other reason why the brunette detested the weaker sex. In his eyes women were evil two - faced sluts, showing off their bodies yet acting innocent and hurt once someone finally decided to use them for the only thing they were actually good for.

But you Jason hated the most. You reminded him that no matter how much he hated the outside world, he would always hate himself the most. He had to admit you were pretty, painfully so, with a perfect little body to match your looks and a sweet sugary smile that almost deceived him years ago. As much as the man regretted his weakness, he had fallen right into your trap at the time.

You weren’t the most popular girl, but you had your fair share of friends, all nice and loyal like puppies. You weren’t the smartest either, but unlike the other stupid giggling sluts you always tried to do your best. You were beautiful just like them but you were actually kind to the pathetic bullied kid no one else bothered to acknowledge even existed outside of being a punching bag. You always asked him whether he was alright and often took him to the infirmary when he looked paler and sicker than usual. You talked to him as if he was a normal human being and despite the initial doubt, Jason appreciated it. 

It was the last day of your senior year when the teen finally gained the courage to confess. He was shaking the whole time and by the end of his little speech there were small tears in the corner of his eye. You were the first girl the male cared about, the first one to show him kindness, to offer him friendship without asking for something in return. You were the only one who could make him feel deserving of love, worthy of affection. And then you took it all away in a matter of seconds.

“I am sorry, bud.” You had said that day after giving him a  half - hearted hug and an apologetic smile, that started to seem more and more like a mocking grin the longer the teen started at you. “I already have a boyfriend, but I am really flattered. I am sure that you will find a lovely girl once you start college.” You had added quickly, cheerfully, rubbing the salt all over his wounds, honey dripping from your plump red lips. He had wanted to kiss them, bruise them, bite them until your stupid lying mouth was filled with blood. Obviously you didn’t have a boyfriend or he would have known by now, he stalked your social media religiously after all. Even if you had one, he probably treated you like shit. And how could you even suggest him finding another woman? As if he wanted any of the stupid money - grabbing sluts out there. As if some of them could replace you.

The boy was too furious to form a proper response besides “Fuck you, bitch”. His cheeks turned red and he didn’t realise that the bitter words had escaped his lips before he could stop them, then his legs took him far away from that shithole of a school. He didn’t manage to see your reaction before running away but it didn’t matter anymore. You were just like the others. 

***

That day Jason swore to show you just how small and insignificant you had made him feel. He wanted to see you crumble, cry and beg for forgiveness, desperate for his love but never good enough to get it. The man formed a plan to change himself and come back for you once he had erased each and every trace of his past. The brunette came to terms with his terrible social anxiety and decided that he needed to gain social abilities more than anything. That’s why, as much as he dreamt of working from home as a boring programmer with an even more boring, but flexible working schelude, the male chose to study something that involved a lot more human interactions. The next step was to hit the gym for the first time and get a monthly subscription. It wasn’t hard to see that females nowadays liked brain - dead athletes with defined jawline and cheekbones, toned chests and strong muscled bodies, so if he wanted to impress you, he had to look his best. It wasn’t easy at first - it felt like everyone in the fitness salon had their eyes on his weak frame, laughing and pointing their fingers at his imperfections, but things gradually got better as time went on. The trainings became easier to get through and from time to time they even helped the man forget about his loneliness and nihilism. 

Jason soon returned to his old habbit of spending hours looking through your accounts - Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, he knew all of your usernames, each post, every picture and text. He couldn’t believe how much of a desperate attention whore you had become over the years. The male remembered you in your long brown skirts, cozy sweatshirts and pure-white shirts, all the gray buttons closed to the very top, blushing, laughing, smiling like the adorable Goody-two-shoes you were. Now you were smirking seductively in every photo, overconfident and vibrant, flaunting your tits for every man to see and wearing tight little dresses that barelly covered your ass combined with heels so high and sharp they could be used as a weapon. You were such a stupid slut it was disgusting, and he couldn’t stop himself from jerking off every single time he saw your pretty little face on the screen. He wanted to cum down your throat so badly it was ridiculous, and even after knowing that you had probably already had hundreds of cocks shoved deep inside your pussy, the brunette still wished to see you split open on his, taking his lenght like a good little cocksleeve. 

***

The moment when he could see you again finally came. How many years had passed since graduation - five, ten, fifthteen? It hardly mattered. Jason was successful, at last. The male had his own business that was doing surprisingly well, there were some guys from the gym he could call friends and the best thing, he looked absolutely unrecognizable. There was nothing left of the tiny scrawny kid with quiet voice that everyone stepped over, he was now replaced by a strong capable man, determined to get what was rightfully his and his alone.

It wasn’t hard to find you since the brunette knew everything about you - where your job was, what time you finished, how long it took you to go home and what path you took. You lived alone and worked as a barista in a small local cafe even now that you had finished your studies in your dream faculty. Turns out the princess wasn’t so great and smart after all, having to resort to working a minimal - wage job day and night just to be able to pay her rent. Jason was absolutely delighted though, he loved your stupid dead - end job and your endless struggles to survive in the materialistic world honestly and fairly without selling yourself like a common whore. On one hand the male was happy that you had clung onto your last bit of innocence and on the other your pitiful lifestyle gave him the chance to snatch you away much easier. And that’s exactly what he did.

 ***

You woke up confused just like he had expected, bombarding him with questions, asking him who he was was, begging him to let you go, to at least explain what’s happening. You were so dumb, but God, you were still so pretty, if not prettier than before. You cried so beautifully when Jason told you you belonged to him now and you cried even more when he slammed his cold rough lips over yours in a deep wet kiss. You whimpered and whined while the male sucked on your lower lip and bit down, good, he wanted it to hurt. The stalker couldn’t wait to be inside you, he couldn’t hold back anymore. 

He climbed on top of you and pinned your wrists to the floor before tying them up with delicate red rope and tightening it. It wasn’t like the man was scared of you slipping away and hurting him, you were too weak and tiny to stand a chance against his years of power - lifting and muscle - training anyways, he just wanted you to be as uncomfortable and squirmish as possible. Your tormentor wished for you to be in worse pain than he had been during his youthful years, and he knew exactly what to do. Next thing you knew Jason had ripped your dress apart, leaving you vulnerable and exposed in just your plain old panties and bra. Cold shivers ran down your spine when the chilly air hit your naked flesh and you finally realized there wasn’t getting away from this. You had to stay there, limbs bound together, unable to move or fight back, the stranger’s hands caressing your neck before moving dangerously close to your clothed breasts. You felt so sick you were going to throw up for sure if your abductor didn’t step back so you decided to use your last resort.

“Jason, please stop!” You screamed out of the blue, forcing the brunette to freeze instantly at the use of his birth name. You had already called him a pervert and a psycho which didn’t seem to faze him, but the name clearly caught him off guard. This only seemed to prove your theory further - the man really was your former classmate, despite the only similarity between them being the dark distant look in his eyes. “I beg you, don’t hurt me!” You continued, hoping to at least buy yourself more time before the assault took place. 

He gulped loudly and stared at your quivering form. The impossible had happened, you had recognized him and now together with fear, there was also pity in your gaze, the one emotion your captor absolutely despised. You used to be the only one who pitied him, and even now that he was bigger, better and stronger than before, you still had the guts to pity him. It drove him insane but any attempt to hurt or touch you was fruitless now - your soft skin was suddenly burning his fingers like hellfire. 

“You must be thinking that I am a monster.” Jason started out dryly, chuckling bitterly, humorlessly even. He clenched his fists unconsciously and brought them to the floor in a fit of rage, missing your head by mere inches. Your heart was beating like crazy and you only hoped the mandman couldn’t hear it. “A freak.” The man spat out the word like it was a curse and for a split second his eyes softened before turning into two spinning torches. “Right?” You were sure that if looks could kill, his would have you dead by the end of the night so you quickly nodded your head no.

“You are lying to me again, pretty girl.” The brunette replied feisty, "pretty” rolling off his tongue like an insult. Then he broke into hoarse maniac laugher and lowered his head so his face leveled up with yours, so close you could feel his warm breath on your tear - stained cheek. “When I am done with you, you wouldn’t be so pretty anymore, darling.” Your captor growled and attacked your neck, sinking his teeth deep into the flesh. “You will see exaclty how ugly my love is.”

[somewhatgreatexpectations]

For The Lover That I Lost (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello! Welcome to part 9, inspired by Sam Smith’s “For the Lover That I Lost”. This now takes place post-civil war. 

Summary: Y/n and Wanda are finally able to talk. Will the talk end in love or tragedy?

“All of the memories feel like magic, all of the fighting seemed so sweet. All that we were, my love, was tragic and you're the last thing that I need.”

“Do you think we could have that talk now?”

For a moment you just stared at the clouds floating past the small window you were seated by and let the question hang in the air. She had given you space for a few hours, but you knew this moment was bound to come. 

The problem was that your healing was precarious, you knew that, and you didn’t know if it could withstand a conversation that was sure to open the wounds you had spent months patching up. 

“Y/n?” Wanda called, cautiously placed a hand on your shoulder. 

With a deep breath you turned your body to face her. “I thought about it, and I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Wanda.” You answered honestly. 

Her brow furrowed slightly, “I understand your hesitation, but-“

“Look, Wanda, allow me to save you the trouble.” You began steadily, “You’re sorry for how everything happened. I accept your apology. You don’t want to lose me from your life. Give me some time and then we’ll work on rebuilding the friendship. Did I get everything?”

She stared at you, her eyes troubled. “Well, not exactly, I was trying to-“

Once again, you interrupted her. “And I won’t stand between you and Vision.”  You added with a snap, as if you had just remembered something important. 

“Will you stop interrupting me?” Wanda exclaimed, shocking you into silence. “Sorry, I just-… I forgot how stubborn you can be.” She rubbed her arm in embarrassment. 

You stared at her silently, granting her wish of no interruptions. Waiting for her to get to her point, that you still weren’t sure you wanted to hear. 

As you observed her, you noticed the way she nervously spun the ring she was wearing on her finger while she seemed to ponder where to begin. “Have you always done that?” you gestured to her hands, unable to stop yourself from asking.

Her eyebrows raised at your question, obviously not expecting it. “I…” she thought about it for a moment, then ducked her head slightly. “I guess it was something that I picked up from you. For so long, your nerves were intertwined with my own that it just became a habit from watching you, I guess.” She mumbled.

You bit your lip and nodded but said nothing, taking note of how her eyes closely observed the action. You gestured for her to go on.

Wanda took a deep, steadying breath, making sure she maintained eye contact with you. “First, I am no longer with Vision. I haven’t been for months.” Your eyebrows raised curiously. “You were right though, part of what I wanted to talk about was how sorry I am. Y/n, I am, so, so, sorry. You deserved so much more than what I gave you. I don’t expect you to forgive me because I certainly don’t forgive myself.” The sincerity in her voice took you by surprise. 

The glassy look in her eyes and prominence of her accent were tell-tale signs of how upset she was. It was information you wished you didn’t know anymore. You dropped your gaze to your lap, it was easier this way.

“There is no excuse-“ she continued until a quiet knock on the wall made her stop. You both looked over to see a sheepish looking Steve Rogers standing a few feet away. 

“Sorry to interrupt. Again.” He coughed awkwardly. “I just wanted to let you know we’ve landed at our temporary hide-out. It’s that house up in the distance.” He gestured vaguely as the door to the quinjet opened to reveal an open field with an unsuspecting two-story house located in the center.

Under normal circumstances you would have thought it was a beautiful sight. The knowledge that you were all there on the run, tarnished that though. You let out a quiet breath. “It’s beautiful. Where exactly are we?”

“Spain. A very rural area at that.” He replied easily.

Despite the view, Wanda couldn’t take her eyes off you. She needed to talk to you uninterrupted and it seemed as though the universe was actively trying to prevent that from happening. All she could do was hope that this wasn’t an omen. That she still had a chance. 

“How long will we be here?” Wanda questioned, finally tearing her eyes away from you.

At the question, Steve shifted in discomfort. “A few days... if that. When Natasha arrives, it’ll be best if we split into small groups at most. We’re wanted fugitives now.”

“Natasha?” you asked with a tilt of your head, distinctly remembering her on Tony’s side.

Steve nodded. “She helped me and Bucky get out. She’s wanted now too.”

Both you and Wanda shared a look of surprise, Wanda speaking up before you could say anything. “Thank you for the update, Steve. We’ll meet the rest of you inside.”

With a knowing nod, Steve took the hint and turned to catch up with Sam who had already began walking ahead. “Guess we better head out.” you mumbled.

“Can we take a walk before we go in? I’d really like to finish our conversation.” Wanda requested hesitantly, her eyes pleading.

With another steadying breath, you nodded. She seemed determined and obviously wasn’t going to let this go. “Okay, Wanda.” You stood up and walked with her out of the quinjet, veering to a small path that was on the side of the house rather than going inside. 

After walking a decent amount, Wanda stopped and took your hand, effectively stopping you as well. You looked at her expectantly. She decided she couldn’t handle another interruption and decided to just be bold. “You’re the love of my life.”

Her words were so unexpected that you just stared at her for a moment, opening and closing your mouth as you tried to process. “I’m sorry, what?” you eventually choked out.

“You are the love of my life.” She repeated with three light squeezes to your hand. “Pushing you away – not fighting for you – was the biggest mistake of my life. A mistake I never plan on making again. I was confused and thought that my powers were tied to my heart. I was wrong. The only person that has ever held my heart and will ever hold my heart is you. I want to grow old with you. I want you for the rest of my life.” Her words were passionate and desperate as she tried to express the true contents of her heart, hoping you’d believe her. 

Disbelief was the only thing you could feel as you watched her shimmering eyes remain on yours. Shortly following the break-up you had dreamed of a moment like this. Not anymore though. You couldn’t. You had spent months learning to live without her. The risk of allowing her back into your heart came at much too high a cost. You wouldn’t recover a second time. “I-I learned to live without you, Wanda. I can’t risk it with you again. I’ve played before and lost.” You answered, finally pulling your hand out of her grasp. 

“Do you still love me?” she asked in a pleading tone, ignoring your words. She took your hands back in hers, you noticed that they were shaking ever so slightly. “Tell me you still love me. Please.”

You swallowed thickly and met her eyes, “I don’t love you anymore.” You said weakly, so weakly that you didn’t even believe it yourself. 

Wanda shook her head, clearly on the verge of tears. “I don’t believe you. I know you still love me. A love like ours doesn’t just go away. I love you, Y/n. Let me show you.” Without a moment’s hesitation, she took your face in her hands and connected your lips passionately.

Wanda sighed contently at the contact she had been missing, the way you both fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. The rush of electricity was a feeling she longed for. Getting swept up in the moment, you returned her kiss temporarily before the shock wore off and the hurt settled once again. 

Pushing at her shoulders you quickly stepped back. “You can’t just kiss me and expect everything to go away, Wanda.” You shouted at her. “I think I should go.” You mumbled turning to leave.

Watching you walk away again was a nightmare vision to Wanda and she would be damned if she gave up so easily again. She ran and stopped so she was directly in your path, preventing you from going any further. “Y/n, please, I can’t imagine my life without you” The tears she had been holding back bubbled over the surface and fell down her cheeks. You fought the urge to brush them away.

“You know, I used to think of you as the person that I was going to spend the rest of my life with too. As somebody who would never hurt me. Ever.” Wanda listened to you quietly as tears flowed more steadily down her cheeks. “Now all I see when I look at you is that last moment on the roof. Of you with him. It doesn’t matter what you say, or what you do… it’s too late.”

A sob escaped Wanda’s lips as she briefly covered her face with her hands. “Y/n, please… This can’t be it.”

“It is though.” Blinking back tears, you moved to step around her. 

“Y-you’re a coward!” She cried after you, at your retreating figure. The pain clear in her voice. 

Anger quickly replaced the anguish at her words. You spun around to face her, her jaw clenched. You couldn’t believe her. “I’m the coward? No, Wanda, you are!” you shouted back.

The woman in question ran a hand through her hair, tears falling even faster. She seemed at a loss. “You’re the one that chose to run instead of staying and fighting!” 

Her words made something in you crack, she had no right to be angry. To pin the demise of what you both once were on you. “How is that fair?” you snapped at her. “I was supposed to stay and fight for someone who had very clearly decided they didn’t want me anymore? You don’t get to pardon yourself. The ashes of our relationship are on you and you alone.” You gritted out bitterly. 

For a moment she just stared at you, her chest heaving as she clutched at her chest. Almost as though your words physically impacted her. “I…I’m sorry.” she took a deep breath and recollected herself. She reached out to you, you stepped back. Her face contorted in pain at the knowledge that you didn’t want her anymore. 

“I know I don’t deserve it and you have no reason give it to me, but please, give us a second chance. Let me prove to you I mean what I say, to prove that you… you are everything. There will never be anyone else. I love you.” her eyes met yours pleadingly, slowly breaking before your very eyes.

You took your own deep breath and braced yourself for the words you were about to say. “Wanda, we don’t stand a chance. It’s sad, but it’s true. We’re bound to end in tragedy.” You said quietly, staring off in the distance because you weren’t sure you could handle watching her reaction. “It’s time to move on.”

Like a magnet though, your eyes found hers either way. 

Broken. That’s the only word that came to mind when you saw her expression. Broken sobs left her lips. Her eyes glistened as they desperately searched yours for something, something that you had blocked off long ago. “You don’t mean that.” She whispered, her lips trembling along with her words. 

You shut your eyes for a moment and prepared yourself to close the door on what you both had. “Goodbye, Wanda.” You whispered as you walked off without looking back.

If you did, you would have seen the way she fell to her knees. The knowledge that she had no one to blame for her own broken heart but herself bringing her to her knees. She buried her face in her hands as sobs wracked through her body. Longing for the comfort of your arms.

Silent tears rolled down your cheeks as you listened to the sound of her cries in the distance, but you knew it was for the best... At least you hoped it was.

That night Steve announced that it would be in everyone’s best interest to split up for the time being as he handed out older phones to everyone so each of you could be contacted and check in. After his announcement everyone retreated to their room. You quietly let Steve know where you planned on going and told no one else. 

As you discreetly prepared to leave the following morning, you found a dozen flowers at your door, half purple violets and half white dittanies. The memory of the last time you saw these flowers filled your mind bittersweetly. A memory that no longer felt like it belonged to you.

When Wanda awoke, she was disappointed to find the flowers she had gifted you back at her door and the room you were staying in empty. Even if her heart ached, she knew that she couldn’t give up. She’d try and try again because your love was worth fighting for and she wouldn’t let you go again. She was determined to spend the rest of her life trying to win you back if she had to. There was no other path for her.

And there we have chapter 9! Angst, angst, angst. I got a little carried away lol. Only 3 more to go, where do you think the reader and Wanda will go from here? As always, hope you all enjoyed and thoughts and comments always welcome. 

P.s. did anyone catch a hint of a different Sam Smith song in there? It may be a hint for the next chapter, it may not be. Still deciding. 

[the-phantom-ender]

S. So. I reblogged this post earlier. And. And I wanted to see a fic for it.

But, uh... I'm very impatient. So I wrote it myself.

LISTEN. LISTEN. I KNOW I HAVE REQUESTS TO BE WORKING ON. HOWEVER, CONSIDER: PHILZA MINECRAFT.

Watson Phillips. That was the name he was going by at this point. He had his wings, practically useless by now, binded and pinned to his back. You could hardly see the bump left by them under the layers of clothing. It was uncomfortable, sure, but not bad. The ruler of this land was a Piglin, he couldn’t help but be reminded of… an old friend.

He sighed, waiting quietly for the event to start. And it did! Oh it did. He didn’t get much of a view of things when the first two gladiators went up to bat, being much to caught up in aiming the bow in his hands, quiver strapped over his shoulder. All he knew was that one of them, Lagius was it, lost miserably. Not that he would judge much, really.

He only really came to be aware of what was happening when he was approached. And… then he saw a very, very familiar face. Watson almost froze where he stood, but covered his tracks with grace, saying he was more or less just focused on target practice. It was a lie, but not an unbelievable one. He rolled his shoulders, back aching.

The cameraman was Karl Jacobs.

There was absolutely no doubt in his mind. For one, his clothing was absolutely not time appropriate. The brightly coloured spiral hoodie did not fly anymore, no sir. For two: Watson knew what reincarnation looked like. This was the same face. This was different.

He decided that when this was over, he would get a chance to talk to Karl.

Watson lost his fight. He kind of threw it, in fairness. The other guy was drunk off his ass and he felt a little guilty fighting him. Also the zero gravity ruining his shot did him in a little. He was deadly on target with a bow, but if a person could easily side step because of how slowly it moved, there was really no point.

After that, he was content just… standing around. He got a little drunk at one point, but he sobered up quick enough that it may well have never happened. It was nice getting to know the rest of the people around, they all seemed alright enough.

Then he spoke to the Ran fellow. An enderman, surely, through and through. Had the same genetic mutation as… someone he used to know. Made the eyes green. Not very common, but not terribly uncommon, either. They carried themselves like anyone could come at them at any time. And considering everything going on, he might have been right with the caution.

“So… Ran, was it? Enderman name.”

He perked up, ears flicking slightly,” Yes. It’s common. You’re... versed in the culture?” “Eh,” Watson shrugged,” I’ve been taught some things by some old friends. Know a little of the language. I’m a little rusty, though.”

The two of them stuck by each other through a lot of the rest of the tournament. Warbling occasionally in a language others didn’t understand. Though Ran did comment, at one point, that the way he spoke it was very outdated. All he did was shrug and say that the guy who taught him might have thought it was funny. That seemed to be enough of that.

At the end, Ran managed to yank both of them out of the lava, keeping both from a rather unsavory death by fire. They stood behind a pillar, listening to chaos erupt around them. Jackie had won. And he was directed to… kill the cameraman. Oh no, absolutely fucking not.

Watson nudged Ran,” Hey, mate, when the kid goes to deal the killing blow to the camera man, is there any way you can just… blip over there and make sure he doesn’t actually die?”

“... Yeah, I can manage that.”

Ran delivered on his word, too. Before Watson knew it, Karl was behind the pillar with them and no one was the wiser. He lurched up, bewildered, clearly expecting to be anywhere but there.

“...What the honk?”

There it was.

“Ran, mate, if you don’t mind. I’d like to have a private word with him.” A shrug,” Alright. I have some… business to attend to, anyways.” A slight salute, and then he was gone.

Karl had tried to slink away, but Watson firmly grabbed his arm and forced him to stay. He threw a cloak over the man’s shoulders and snuck them out with the crowd. To his credit, he didn’t complain. It was… almost uncomfortable how resigned he was to this, honestly. Eventually, Watson tugged Karl around a corner and out of sight.

“How are you here, Karl Jacobs?”

“What?”

“Don’t play stupid, mate.”

“H-how…” Karl blinked, moving to hold his head,” How do you know who I- have I met you? My memory, um, it isn’t… the greatest. So. If I’m forgetting you, I’m sorry-”

“I, gah, do I really have to spell this out for you?”

“... Yeees.”

“I swear to gods if this is just because I binded my fuckin’ wings…” Watson sighed.

It wasn’t like he could just… take off the binding. He’d pinned them down pretty damn well, it’d take a while to unwrap things. Still, he supposed those were the most defining features about him. Unless… did he still keep that thing in his bag? It was old and busted by now, but he’d replaced it more than once already and didn’t wanna do it again.

He opened his satchel, rustling around for a few moments. A small smile grew on his face as he saw the edge of the green and white rim. With a flourish, Watson pulled out the bucket hat and placed it on his head. It fit better when his hair was longer. Waving his hands, jazz hands, he whispered out a little ‘ta-da!’

“PHILZA MIN-”

“SHHHH!” Watson hissed, shoving a hand over Karl’s mouth,” Not so fuckin’ loud, mate.”

A beat.

“Yeah, though. You died. A very long time ago. How the fuck are you… here, Karl?”

“Uh…” Karl’s eyes darted around,” Would you… believe me if I said that I’m, uh, I’m on… business.”

[huebris808]

Dr. Hofnarr’s Horrible, No-Good, Very Weird 15 Years Of Being Dead.

a tribute to fanon interpretations/character study(?) that was going to be a bonus chapter in a post-canon/au comedy fic im working on! might come back to expand on this when i do start posting it (or if mpn gives him more background story lore that i’ll have to work with aoAHGHOAUGH)

happy madness day! :o)

“Where should I begin… Perhaps at the very beginning? OH! Christoff and I first met years before our Nexus days! Back in our freshman years of college, to be precise! You know, I was actually a theater major before switching to- ... A-Aah, too far back. Much too far... Let’s start from the point where the notes I supplied to you ended then, shall we? After our dissension...”

.. “Good luck, old friend...” ..

The first years on the run from Nexus was stressful to say the least. Hofnarr and Christoff had split up to better their chances of survival. He knew the process would be grueling, having talked to Christoff almost every night about it to calm his nerves. While he played calm for the cameras, Hofnarr truly wished he could have held him close one last time. No communications. No physical contact. Day after day, month after month, nothing. He would be separated from his husband for a very long time…

It wasn’t all bad after a while. He had a comfortable new apartment, went under a new alias, and his questionable new job paid him enough to buy food. His apartment even had cable! He could watch marathons of Slaughter Time whenever he got home! In hindsight, he wondered if that had an effect on his mental state at the time...

Hofnarr had taken the last of his S3LF regulator with him, having shipped them out to an undisclosed location prior to dissension. Dissonance exposure did a number on him and his research team, leaving them to track their “normality” through daily blood tests and injections. While they met their fates early on, Hofnarr had gotten lucky. That is, until the doses began to run out.

Stressful as it was, he knew what he had to do. Hofnarr rushed back to what remained of the labs, knowing it had been abandoned by now. It was ironic, he and Christoff’s work, the work that was turned against them, was the one thing keeping him alive. For days, he worked to make more doses from the materials he brought with him. But there was only so much he could do with limited supplies… Hofnarr made many attempts to prolong the inevitable, lowering his dosage amount, injecting it weekly rather than daily, but he eventually ran dry. 

Refusing to turn to darker alternatives, he felt the only thing he could do at this point is record his final findings through video logs.

“It was… interesting revisiting the footage, to put it nicely. Christoff had actually kept the video files on a drive after he originally found all my things in the lab! I barely remembered what happened back then, so I rewatched them out of curiosity.”

On the first night, Hofnarr recorded a message for Christoff. One filled with sorrow, but also with gratitude. For the time that they spent together. How special he made him feel. All the memories they made together...

On the next, he recorded a log detailing his findings during Project Nexus. The effects of dissonance, the Other Place, what it did to him and his colleagues, everything and anything he could.

The next, he reported on the progression of his symptoms. Fever, brain fog, insomnia, joint pain. He felt like his organs were melting, his skin bursting at the seams.

The next night he saw something and remembered. Scars. The scars on his head. That week he was in the staff hospital. He thought it was a dream but the scars were there. Phobos. Director Phobos brought him somewhere that week. He knew he felt off when he woke up in the office that night. He knew something was off when Christoff asked him where he was. He thought he passed out from over-working. That bastard Phobos. Nausea was replaced with rage as he began to scream, his throat becoming raw. What did he put in him? What the hell did he put inside him!?

On the last recorded log, he was face-down on the ground. Groaning as his body occasionally convulsed. Until the video feed eventually cut off.

His body would lay there dormant, dead, for fifteen years. 

But to Hofnarr, he felt like he was dreaming.

.. “LET’S GIVE IT UP FOR OUR NEXT CONTESTANT!” ..

“Huh?” The doctor sat up and looked around, the area around him pitch black. Wasn’t he sleeping just a moment ago? He got up and took a step forward in the seemingly endless void. “H-Hello? Who’s out there?”

“AWW, DON’T BE SHY NOW! ESTEEMED AUDIENCE, A BIG ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR OUR GUEST; THE UNFORTUNATE DOCTOR HOFNARR!”

A light shined down on him from above. A crowd seemingly began to cheer all around him. He was in the center of what looked like a talk show set. Hofnarr awkwardly scratched the corner of his face. “‘Unfortunate’? W-What do you mean? W-Who are you?”

“FIGHT FIRST, ASK QUESTIONS LATER!” The voice above him called out again. “AFTER ALL, IT’S…!” Hofnarr drowned out the noise while trying to think. It sounded familiar. Like it came from…

Hofnarr’s thoughts were cut short. He looked down at his torso. Terror set in as he recognized an entire stop sign had been lodged through his chest.

“DON’T GET COLD FEET NOW! THE SHOW’S ONLY JUST BEGUN!” 

The words echoed in Hofnarr’s mind as he frantically tried to pull it out, his vision growing muddled, his hands slipping with blood until…

He blinked.

No stage. No sound. No pain.

Nothing around except for a single white door in front of him.

He stood up again, cautiously reaching for the doorknob.

When he entered he seemed to be in a vintage styled home. It was a kitchen with checkerboard flooring, a table with two chairs, and cheerful music playing through a small radio. It smelled of pastry and medical equipment. Suddenly, there was a knock coming from the door. A familiar voice called from behind it.

“I’m home, dear.” “J-Jeb?!”

Hofnarr rushed towards the front door. Christoff wasn’t trapped here too, was he? “Jeb! W-where are we!? What is this place? What happened to-”

As he opened the door, the clapping returned.

His husband was there, briefcase in hand, his face replaced with a black hole dripping with an unknown inky substance.

He slowly began to back away as “Jeb” moved closer.

The applause, the laughter, was deafening.

Before he could question or run away, Hofnarr was hit by something. His vision blurred, but refocused to be face-to-face with something. It seemed to be a shadow of himself. He tried to run again, but was pinned down by his doppelganger. The clone raised a clawed hand above him and then...

Like waking from a nightmare, Hofnarr quickly sat up once again. He gasped for air, dripping with cold sweat.

Was this really happening? Was it finally over? Was he free?

And then the spotlight focused on him again.

“It… got very surreal. Despite fight after fight, death after painful death... I would suddenly be somewhere else! There was a gameshow, our old apartment, a cat cafe, a... strip club of sorts, a tea room filled with these small armless doodles I used to draw on my research notes trying to offer me snacks… One time there was a sort of singing contest, but I won’t bore you with the details of that one. But when I wasn’t in those places, I felt like I was fighting for my life. It felt like an eternity! And the strangest part of it all? It… it became addicting.”

At first, he felt as if Hofnarr used all of his energy, physical and emotional, to fight back. It reminded him too much of his escape from Nexus. But as time went on, he focused less on escaping and more on surviving. The more he fought, the more he began to lose himself. He was anticipating what sudden whiplash of combat would be thrown at him next. He chuckled at the thought of what excitement would be heading his way. He wanted more. The fights became too slow. Too predictable. Too boring. He began toying with whatever was thrown at him. Turning his shadowy hunters into the hunted. Why let his audience watch the same old fights all the time?

Suddenly, the fighting stopped.

Why? 

He was having fun, wasn’t he? He grew impatient.

“WHAT’S THE HOLD UP!” He yelled into the void, seething with anger. “AREN’T WE SUPPOSED TO BE FIGHTING? ISN’T THAT WHAT I’M HERE FOR?!”

He stomped his foot down, lodging something out of the ground.

The stop sign.

He looked over it curiously. How familiar…

Grabbing hold of it, quick flashes of memories appeared to him.

Nexus, the Science Tower, Phobos, the Other Place… 

A man with long hair standing next to...

Hofnarr… 

Who was that? Was that him?

No…

Only Tricky remained.

Footsteps echoed throughout the halls of the abandoned lab. Heels quickly clicking, cautiously stopping every so often. A lone Nexus Core agent entered through one of the doors.

Perfect timing.

“HAY! YOU THERE!!” A voice stuttered and glitched out, reverberating through the emptiness of the lab. The quickly soldier whipped their head around. “YEAH! YOU, STUPID. PLAY WITH ME!!”

“Who’s there?” The agent pointed their magnum towards the noise. “Show yourself!”

Gladly. The cackling figure emerged from the shadows, posing with a peace-sign, causing the agent to recoil. He grinned, slowly moving towards the cowering goon on the ground. They wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Who are you!?”

They couldn’t kill him.

“FIGHT FIRST. ASK QUESTIONS LATER! AFTER ALL…” 

CAN’T KILL CLOWN.

“IT’S MURDER TIME!”

..

“My body had been there, regenerating and repeating the enmeshment process for years. And by the time I woke up, I was a completely different person. I became a creature of unfiltered impulse… A personification of chaos itself.”

The room grew silent before Hofnarr spoke up again.

“I-Is it horrible to say it was… kind of cool?” He said with a nervous chuckle, twiddling his fingers.

2BDamned was quiet for a moment. They recalled the many times they had to stitch their comrades back together due to Clown Moments. They placed their head in their palms and let out a sigh.

“... You have the right to your own opinion.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

BONUS: songs i was listening to on loop while working on this instead of doing my damned writing assignment. Enjoy

lady gaga ft. dorian electra - replay

vestik - tricky's vengeance ft. monocronic

[twentiethcenturymoviesandtv]

Episode Spotlight: M*A*S*H, Season 1, Episode 17: Sometimes You Hear the Bullet

Frank Burns throws his back out and applies for a Purple Heart.  Meanwhile, Hawkeye Pierce meets, and later operates on, an old friend and struggles with the decision of whether or not to send an underaged soldier home.

More than halfway through season 1, M*A*S*H wasn’t exactly killing in the ratings.  The show wasn’t quite sure of itself yet, with tons of recurring characters that would end up dropped and other characters not yet added to the main cast.  Airing at eight o’clock on Sunday nights, M*A*S*H was, at this stage in the game, a relatively normal sitcom, albeit one with a bit sharper sense of humor.

That all changed with Sometimes You Hear the Bullet.

I’ll show you what I mean.

The episode starts humorously enough: Major Frank Burns throws his back out during a rendezvous with Major Houlihan.  He is placed into traction, where he applies for a Purple Heart for his ‘injury’.  Meanwhile, Hawkeye is visited by an old friend and kindred irreverent spirit: Corporal Tommy Gillis, a journalist who signed up for the front lines as he writes his book: You Never Hear the Bullet, a book meant to be written from a soldier’s point of view, instead of a reporter’s.

A helicopter full of wounded arrive at the unit, and Gillis returns to his post.

Among the wounded is a young man with a burst appendix, a Private Wendell Petersen, who is very anxious to get back to the front lines.  Hawkeye tells him that he has to rest for a few days before returning to his unit.  This doesn’t stop Wendell from attempting to steal an army jeep to try to get back, afraid that he was going to be sent home.

After talking with him, Hawkeye figures out the truth: Wendell Petersen is actually Walter Peterson, and he’s not even sixteen years old.

It turns out that Walter posed as his brother, Wendell, and entered the war to impress his girlfriend back home by returning with a medal.  He begs Hawkeye to keep his secret, and, after returning him to his bed, Hawkeye agrees.

Shortly, more wounded arrive, and among them is Tommy Gillis.  Hawkeye operates on him, but even his best is not enough, and he dies on the operating table after telling Hawkeye that he did hear the bullet.  Hawkeye tries to revive him, but Colonel Henry Blake orders him to move on to save another life.

Afterwards, Hawkeye breaks down crying.

“Henry, I know why I’m crying now. Tommy was my friend, and I watched him die, and I’m crying. I’ve watched guys die almost every day. Why didn’t I ever cry for them?”

“Because you’re a doctor.”

Hawkeye asks what that means, and Henry answers with one of the greatest lines in the show’s history.

“I don’t know. If I had the answer, I’d be at the Mayo Clinic. Does this place look like the Mayo Clinic? Look, all I know is what they taught me at command school. There are certain rules about a war. And rule number one is young men die. And rule number two is, doctors can’t change rule number one.”

Right then and there, Hawkeye decides to change rule number one in some small way, and calls the MPs on Private Wendell, really Walter, outing the fact that he’s underage.  Walter, outraged, tells Hawkeye that he’ll never forgive Hawkeye for the rest of his life.

Hawkeye replies: “Let’s hope it’s a long and healthy hate.”

In one final scene (one that’s usually cut from syndication), Henry Blake begins to present Frank with his Purple Heart, only to find it replaced with a purple earring, while outside, Hawkeye pins the Purple Heart on Walter to make up for turning him in, sending him home, but home a hero.

The end.

Sometimes You Hear the Bullet is considered one of M*A*S*H’s best episodes for a reason.  This is an early episode, one that is regarded as a tone and trend setter for the rest of the series in terms of both storyline balance (one or two serious plotlines, one humorous), and content itself, one of the first episodes to sit down and truly explore the characters within this tragic situation.  At this moment, M*A*S*H ceased being a comedy show and became a dramedy, with one of the most memorable moments and exchanges in the show’s long history.

While this episode may seem like a standard half-hour of television, at the time, especially for this show, it was something different.  It was no longer a slapstick grittier Hogan’s Heroesque irreverent comedy about soldiers, it was a show about a group of people stuck in the middle of a war, with death all around them.  And no matter how good Hawkeye, or any of the doctors, are at their jobs, they’ll never be able to save everyone.

It’s sobering, but it’s a truth that the show had, for the first time, truly explored, and it’s that initial exploration, that glimmer of what this show was going to become, that puts this episode under so much recognition: Sometimes You Hear the Bullet was the warning sign, the first moment that the writers got a handle on the show that would become a classic.

Of course, it has it’s problems.  

Not tonal ones, at least, not exactly.  Throughout its entire run, M*A*S*H often had two or three plots going, one serious, one humorous.  This is a smart strategy: balance out the dark with the light, giving each episode a more even feeling instead of being too much one or the other.  Although the show would get darker and more serious as time went on, the writers never abandoned this plan, allowing M*A*S*H to remain a consistent dramedy throughout the show’s run, keeping the audience laughing and crying at the same time.

In the case of Sometimes You Hear the Bullet, the ‘funny’ subplot is obvious: Frank Burns and his Purple Heart.  The other two storylines are the serious ones: Hawkeye’s friend, as well as the underaged soldier.  However, in most cases, as in this one, these plotlines inevitably intersect, and it’s here that this particular episode might cause a few problems.

I mentioned that the final scene in the episode is typically cut from syndication: the sequence where Frank’s purple heart is stolen and given to the underaged soldier, instead.  While this scene may not, at first, seem inherently out of place within the context of the rest of the episode, swinging from comedy to drama within a minute, there are those who believe that this scene unintentionally undermines the rest of the episode, or the main thrust established a few moments earlier.

And those people aren’t exactly wrong.

I certainly agree that the episode would have been stronger had it ended with the soldier’s final interaction with Hawkeye been proclaiming his hatred, only for Hawkeye to soberly respond that he hopes it’s a long and healthy hate.  Changing that to this new ending, where Hawkeye sends him home with a medal, seems almost out of character for Hawkeye, taking away some of the sincerity and severity of the message just a moment earlier.  The idea that this soldier could bring himself to forgive Hawkeye so soon, before realizing what exactly he’d been saved from, seems a little disingenuous after the weight previously given to this subplot.

In later episodes, it’s possible, even probable that this episode wouldn’t have ended tied in such a neat bow.  But that’s one of the things that’s so interesting about this episode.

Sometimes You Hear the Bullet isn’t the first episode of ‘true’ M*A*S*H as it would be remembered in the future, but it is the first episode where M*A*S*H comes into its own themes, looking hard at war, and the toll it takes not only on the soldiers, but on the surgeons, as well.  Before this, for the most part, ‘characters’, friends of the cast, did not die on the operating table.  Not when Hawkeye could save him.

But I’m going to quote Hawkeye from another season 1 M*A*S*H episode, Yankee Doodle Doctor, as I think that it sums up this the point of this episode pretty well:

“Three hours ago, this man was in a battle. Two hours ago, we operated on him. He’s got a 50-50 chance. We win some, we lose some. That’s what it’s all about. No promises. No guaranteed survival. No saints in surgical garb. Our willingness, our experience, our technique are not enough. Guns, and bombs, and anti-personnel mines have more power to take life than we have to preserve it. Not a very happy ending for a movie. But then, no war is a movie.”

That right there is the point of Sometimes You Hear the Bullet, to the point where the doomed Tommy Gillis even references the film tropes of a young, fresh-faced kid hearing the bullet that kills him.  This is the message that Hawkeye must grapple with: he cannot save everyone.

No matter how much he knows, how good he is, he can never save everyone.  No guaranteed survival.

It’s sobering, but it’s the truth.  And it’s what makes this episode so memorable.

M*A*S*H at this point was still mostly a comedy, a series full of jokes and the occasional serious moment, and it would continue to be so for another few years.  But it was this episode, episode seventeen of the first season, that signaled to audiences that this show could be more than that.  It could make you laugh, sure, but it could make you cry, and it wasn’t that surprising: this was war.

In short: by itself, is Sometimes You Hear the Bullet one of the greatest episodes of television, or even M*A*S*H, ever written?  Maybe.  Maybe not.  But what it is, without much doubt, is the first sign of maturity in a show that had a lot of growing up to do.

Whether the shift was instantaneous or not, the fact is, Sometimes You Hear the Bullet was a game changer in the show’s history, the first break in format that truly showed audiences what they could expect in the years ahead.

On top of that?  It’s just a good episode.

The plot balance is decent, without too much mood-whiplash that could so easily occur in a war dramedy.  The characters, decently familiar to audiences by now, all work off of each other just as well as ever, funny, interesting, and heartfelt in turn.  It’s an example of early M*A*S*H at it’s best, overshadowing many first season episodes with a level of depth previously mostly unexplored, delivering on every scene and remaining mostly genuine.  It’s an engaging episode, full of memorable moments that are thoughtful and earnest, making this episode a standout, a moment in television history, and an unmissable installment for avid watchers of M*A*SH, and television fans in general.

Don’t forget that the comment box is always open for anything from suggestions and discussion ideas to questions and conversations!  Thank you guys so much for reading, and I hope to see you guys in the next article.

[szanne7000]

I posted 45 times in 2021

5 posts created (11%)

40 posts reblogged (89%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 8.0 posts.

I added 125 tags in 2021

#ts4 download - 30 posts

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Longest Tag: 45 characters

#ts4 cc chairs & stools not working if slotted

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Hi I love your builds! Can you tell me which shelving unit this is? I looked on the link to see if I could find the build, but the page is unavailable

Hi @mellohippo88 🥰

That is so nice of you to say!!! 😊

CherryBlossomSims is only archived for content at this point. Blooming Rosy became our next home, but sadly that site closed (see my pinned post for where to find all the amazing creators). This was Zeke's Apartment (guest bathroom) and from the June 2017 BAD (Be A Designer) contest hosted on CherryBlossomSims. I miss those!

This fantastic item is a cupboard by Granny ZaZa. It is part of the Medieval Tavern Set (Pictures of Set, HERE).

While the site is gone, you can still find this set at simfileshare, HERE).

SFS folder for thesimsmodels, HERE

11 notes • Posted 2021-05-13 06:54:43 GMT

#4

See the full post

36 notes • Posted 2021-03-30 05:36:28 GMT

#3

See the full post

44 notes • Posted 2021-01-01 09:08:04 GMT

#2

See the full post

164 notes • Posted 2021-06-17 15:22:50 GMT

#1

IMPORTANT!!! Regarding the broken cc chairs and stools after the March 23, 2021 Patch for Bunkbeds...

⭐⭐⭐OrangeMittens has stated that Sims4Studio will create a batch fix for this issue OR that EA (as in the past) will create a rollback that changed the 64bit instance requirement to 32bit instance number requirement.

Here is the link starting on page 28 of this s4s thread (comments related to the March 23, 2021 Patch start at the 3rd post from the bottom of the page):

https://sims4studio.com/thread/17679/post-patch-related-issues-batch?page=28

⭐⭐⭐Please share/reblog this post so that cc creators who are not aware can hold off on trying to clone and change the instance for their chairs. As OrangeMittens stated, this can cause issues (bottom picture):

“ I would also like to encourage people to wait at least a little while for EA to fix this or for a batch fix to be made. If everyone starts making their own instance numbers for every chair they have, there are going to be hundreds of chairs out there each with hundreds of different instance numbers. This could cause problems down the road if people start sharing their chair folders with friends who are also receiving chair folders from other people. The instance number is what the game uses to tell which object is what. Things that increase the chance that a player will have more than one item with a given instance number or versions of the same item with different instance numbers in their game should be avoided. If we do a batch fix we can hash the number in a fashion that ensures a specific chair gets the same number no matter who batch fixes it.”

⭐⭐⭐The reason this is a particular type of what I would call ‘nightmare’ problem is that all cc chairs/stools will need to be replaced - as in, remove them from your Mods folders, remove/replace with the fix in your builds and archives... It is a lot and waiting for EA or Sims4Studio to resolve this issue is the best bet... like when we waited for Andrew and the S4S team to provide a wonderful batch fix for cc doors, windows, arches, and other items using the old way of using DST image files for the transparency.

🥰🥰🥰Please be kind to each other and especially cc creators, the sims4studio team, and EA while this situation is worked through.

356 notes • Posted 2021-03-26 01:07:43 GMT

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