#and make him take the blame for everything and shit

[bluukive]

This is my first time actually making a request/ ask of any kind because I feel like such a pervert 🫣 but could you possibly write how the JJk guys would react to a reader who’s a surprise squriter? -🦎

!MDNI: Surprise? - JJK

an - I actually know nothing about sqwuirting so this might be unrealistic? Ty for the ask tho <3

ᡣ𐭩 G. Satoru

Starts crying

Like he's so dramatic about it, lower lip jutted out as he thinks 'Oh, shit. My girl's a supersoaker???', all whilst he's staring at your twitching body below him.

Tries giving you a high-five, ignoring the fact you're boneless right now. You can't really blame him, he's beyond excited. Probably just ends up slapping your thigh.

He's brought back into reality when your pussy refuses to let him go almost, gripping him like a vice.

Says he needs to see you do it again for 'scientific purposes' - he's got his phone out with the flash on, recording from all angles possible as his fingers slide in and out, curl up inside you with his face as close to your pussy as possible so that he can throw a cheeky wink at the camera.

Non-stop yapper after, like... worse than usual. He's laying on his belly in bed, legs swinging as he goes on and on about how flattered he is and how you must love him so much

ᡣ𐭩 G. Suguru

Quiet when it happens. He just stares for a while before exhaling and pulling his cock out of you. Suguru's head is tilted as he admired his still pulsing length. It as hard as ever, but the only difference now is that it's glistening with your release.

Slaps his cock against your clit, smirking when you curl in on yourself due to overstimulation. Will also whisper about how nasty of a slut you are, getting his dick wet like that

He restrains you (consensually ofc) with whatever he can. Suguru wants to see you frustrated, so he'll use anything to edge you, whether that be his tongue, fingers, toys. etc.

Dare I say when you finally orgasm and squirt again, he comes untouched too. He developed a fascination with edging just because it made that final release all the more satisfying for you both

All cuddles and praise after, but he's thinking of different ways to make you do it again

ᡣ𐭩 T. Fushiguro

Nearly stops completely, cursing as his hips falter. You've been folded in half when it happens, and the spurts of your release hit his aps, coating them in a glossy sheen that he's staring down at. Feels his heart thumping in his ears, Toji's that turned on

Smug as hell once he's recovered (acting like he didn't pull out and squeeze his cock slightly to prevent himself from cumming on the spot)

Runs his entire hand down both his abs and chest and makes you lick it all clean after staring at it. You swear it looked like he was rebooting, and you mentally log it in your head to tease him about it later.

Once that's all done, your knees are practically by your ears as he pushes your legs back even further (idek how that's possible, my fatass could never). Toji's swearing to wring you out like a damn towel, determined to make you do it again

You both end up overstimulated, Toji just couldn't stop himself from getting hard whenever he saw your pussy gush all over him

ᡣ𐭩 N. Kento

Mr. Short-circuit pt 2 yessir. Starts saying stuff like 'Did I do that to you?, 'Was that because of me?', and he knows damn well it was all him.

You squirt for the first time when he's eating you out, actually. His glasses are covered in stray drops of your orgasm, and he politely wipes them clean, all whilst taking a moment to smile privately. He's made you do that, no-one else. Nanami's face is a pretty pink throughout it all.

First makes sure you're okay. After all, your comfort is Nanami's priority above everything else. He wants verbal confirmation that you felt good, a nod isn't good enough.

Once you give him that shaky 'yes', something shifts in Nanami. He's borderline clinical with how he touches and inspects your pussy after. His glasses are off, and his eyes remain trained on your pussy whilst he's fucking into you.

A thumb stays on your clit throughout it all, and he's changing the pace of the focused digit. When Nanami feels like you're close to orgasm, he slows down. He's unintentionally edging you, but neither of you are complaining when your back arches off the bed for the nth time that night

Thanks you when you squirt, for trusting him this much

ᡣ𐭩 S. Ryomen

Pretends that it's an inconvenience when you accidentally squirt on him. He's actually hiding how obsessed he is with you at that moment

Grabs your face, practically snarling when he degrades you. Sukuna's hissing out commands, talking about how you've soiled him. It's apparently now your duty to squirt again with ONLY his permission

It's become a challenge for him to make you soak his body over and over, and he's dragging his tongue all over your cunt when it happens (even if that means he has to pull his cock/s out of you)

Calls you weak multiple times. Frankly doesn't care if you're crying, he'll just lick the tears right back up. Time to recover from an orgasm is practically non-existent

Develops a need to have you ride his thigh at least once a day whilst he's on his throne. It's a way for him to humiliate you, making you buck your hips like you're in heat until he can feel the wetness coat the thick muscle.

[fourthemarauders]

The marauders era characters when eating a brownie🍃 for the very first time

James

He’s giggling before the brownie even kicks in. Five minutes later he’s lying on the floor whispering “do you think stars have feelings?” He gets weirdly emotional and says “I’d die for all of you” with zero context. Tries to hug everyone at once. Fails. Tries again.

Sirius

Realizes he has cheekbones and spirals into a monologue about how he’s “too beautiful to be emotionally stable" flirts with himself. Tries to fight a chair for looking at him wrong. Ends up crying in Remus’s lap because “no one ever taught me how to be loved.”

Remus

Starts logical, ends feral. At some point says “grief is a spell we cast on ourselves” and everyone claps. Tells Sirius he’s the most annoying person he’s ever loved and then blames the brownie. Spoiler: it wasn’t the brownie. Also has a full-on existential crisis about the moon.

Peter

Thinks he’s dead. Like, genuinely. Follows Lily around asking if she can hear his ghost voice. Tries to walk through a wall. Bumps his nose. Says “it’s the veil. I’m not worthy.”

Lily

Sits everyone down for a lecture on internalized misogyny and then immediately cries about the potential of lesbianism. Makes everyone drink water and calls it a feminist act.

Marlene

Takes off her shirt and howls at the moon. Declares herself a nature lesbian. Kisses Mary. Kisses Dorcas. Tries to kiss a tree. Tried to kiss Sirius cause he looked like another tree. Declares all four experiences life-changing. Later gets into a heated debate with a broomstick about blond visibility.

Dorcas

Doesn’t speak for an hour. Then randomly says “none of us are making it out of this whole.” Throws a knife into the wall. Where did she get the knife? No one knows. But it lands dead center and everyone claps like it’s normal.

Mary

Reads everyone’s auras like it’s her job. Tells Remus he’s “made of haunted poetry.” Says Regulus feels like an abandoned piano. Makes Sirius cry by calling him a disco ball trying to be a mirror. Asks Lily if she wants to move to a cottage and start over. Kind of means it.

Regulus

Claims he’s fine. Five minutes later: lying on the floor whispering “I think I’m a haunted Victorian lampshade.”

Starts rating everyone’s energy: “Sirius is fire, Dorcas is a blade, I’m a dying poem.” Cries because the cat looked at him “with judgment.” Won’t drink water unless it’s called a potion.

Snape

Absolutely not okay. Crying, muttering, possibly hexing his own shoelaces. Says “I should’ve loved better” with zero context. Everyone assumes it’s about Lily. No one asks. Lily puts a hand on his shoulder like “okay. But also? Stfu.”

Pandora

Absolutely off the rails. Eats four brownies, sees the fabric of the universe, draws symbols on Regulus’ arms and calls them “protective blessings.” Starts floating? Might be a spell. Might be vibes. Tells Barty “your soul is a little cracked but it sparkles.”

Barty

Full chaos. Tries to seduce a lamp. Fails. Blames the lamp. Starts narrating everything he does like he’s the villain in a Shakespeare play. Yells “I AM THE DARK LORD OF VIBES” and then immediately trips over a shoe.

Evan

Eats it like it’s nothing, pretends he’s not affected. Fifteen minutes later he’s lying flat on his back whispering “you know, if you think about it, death is just a very long nap.” Stares at the ceiling like it offended him personally. Tries to flirt with both Sirius and Barty in the same breath. Calls Regulus “my tiny goth prince” and kisses his hand dramatically. Accidentally joins Mary’s spiritual circle. Says “this is stupid” but does not move for three hours.

Later claims he doesn’t remember any of it. He does.

Follow for more shit like this

[unsaidace]

i don't go here, but you're talking a lot about this, and i did watch that fight scene and. i was prepared for the shove, i was prepared for the "trials and tribulations" line, i was prepared for the exchange about whether buck did everything he could, i was prepared for eddie to call buck selfish. i paused the video before any of that to stare blankly because i was totally unprepared for "can you blame us? look at how you're acting now!" like. that's. that's a very blatant "your reaction to me doing this to you justifies me having done it". i wanna say that's like textbook emotional abuse? that's a "it's your fault i hurt you". and then it gets WORSE. the pieces of it i knew became worse in context because of the way this escalated. this isn't a fight, this is eddie taking his anger out on someone who won't fight back. is it the most extreme thing i've seen in television? no! but it is one sided in a way that is really uncomfortable. down to the fact that buck is the only one who apologizes. like, bringing in chris and pepa is great, but it's not an apology. eddie said a lot, out loud, with his words when he was being cruel. he can apologize for the things he said with his real words too.

just. this is pretty bad even if you take the physical stuff out of it. and it's been really disorienting watching people say that this was normal or romantic. and i needed to scream into something other than the void about it.

Oh, believe me, I’ve been saying it’s emotional abuse. I know the signs of that shit all too fucking well; been there, done that, got the t-shirt.

The fact of the matter is, Eddie started this “fight”, and I use that term loosely. You’re correct in saying it wasn’t a fight, it was Eddie berating Buck while Buck stood there and took it. And it’s made even worse by the fact that, if you watch the full episode, Eddie actually lies to Buck in that scene. When he tells Buck that he was going to tell him about the El Paso job, that’s a lie. Because he actually suggests “the new captain”, assumed to be Hen in the scene in question, be the one to tell Buck. So when Eddie says “I was going to tell you”, that’s bullshit. And then he launches into his ranting and raving, turning Buck into the villain, justifying his actions with Buck’s reactions. And the thing is, this isn’t the first time Eddie has done this to Buck. This is the fourth time. He did it twice back in season 3, too.

• In the grocery store, calling Buck “exhausting”, and berating him for not being there to bail Eddie out of jail when he got himself arrested, a responsibility that Eddie had assigned to Buck without ever actually informing him.

• In the kitchen of Buck’s loft, just prior to the infamous “wanna go for the title?” scene that the Buddies just love to talk about, Buck asks Eddie if he was throwing his punches at the wrong guy when he was going to the fight club, questioning whether Eddie was actually mad at him instead. Eddie’s response? “Seriously? You’re gonna make it all about you? Again?” Buck then states that he thought Eddie was going to “take a swing” at him in the grocery store scene, and Eddie’s exact words are “not that you didn’t deserve it, but I wouldn’t do that; you’re on blood thinners” — as if the medication was the only thing stopping him. Which implies that he would, in fact, have hit Buck if not for the meds. So the people saying “oh, Eddie would never hit Buck!!” are incorrect, and they need to give their heads a wobble.

• 8x09, Eddie goes on basically the exact same rant as in 8x17, calling Buck selfish and once again telling him that he “makes everything about him”, though this one is specifically about Eddie’s original move to Texas.

• 8x17, the kitchen scene.

This is a pattern of behaviour with Eddie, it’s not the “one time occurrence” that the people defending and romanticising it would have you believe it is. Eddie is an emotional abuser and a manipulator, and his victim is Buck.

[caoimhewritesfics]

Trespass

(Undying Ground Pt2)

Some unexpected help from the masked stranger leaves you confused and dwelling on your past and this strange mans motives

CW: mentions of death, post apocalyptic world, canon typical violence, injury, grief, zombies (mentioned) WC: 2.4k

Pairing: Simon Riley x Reader. Reluctant allies to lovers

Series Masterlist → here

A/N- Simon being ominous yayyyyy

Your head is pounding. Your skull feels like shattered glass has buried itself into the crevices of your brain. You try to open your eyes only to be blinded by the light coming through the window. At least you think it's a window. The blur in your vision and pain in your skull make it hard to tell.

It takes you a few more minutes of blinking for your vision to clear and the sight of the room to come into focus. You're in a small wooden cabin. One of those cabins that's been hand built but still much nicer than the humble shack you shared with Vivienne. The memory of her still burns, like a spark in your chest, quickly catching and burning your lungs from the inside. You push the thought away as you take in more of your surroundings.

Your eyes drift across the room. Everything appears to be handmade. Wooden chairs, a table, even the single bed frame pressed against the wall furthest from where you lay… all hand built. Quite well made, in fact. The sunlight, still slightly blinding, comes in through the singular window perched above the counter in what must be the makeshift kitchen.

You can't be bothered to will yourself up off the small cot pressed against the cold timber wall, the ache in your body debilitating. A deep sigh rolls through your lungs, the silence of the room making anxiety curl into your heart.

The creak of the door and the sound of heavy, stomping boots makes you shoot up. The cut in your side burns as you move. On instinct you reach for your knife, only to feel that it's gone. Of course, you should have known. The skull faced "private property" lunatic must have taken it. You see now just how big he really is. A behemoth of a man. He's at least 6'4, his massive frame is forged from years of relentless training and hardened discipline. The only bit of skin you can see is around his brown eyes. His clothing, all black. "You're awake," is all he says as he tosses a few rabbits he caught for food onto the simple wooden table.

"What do you want from me?" Your tone is wary and guarded. You've run into plenty of people who were hardly clinging to sanity and this terrifying man is no different. Your eyes follow his movements carefully, watching for any sign of a threat. His eyes lock with yours as he stalks towards you, chair in hand. The legs scrape against the ground, a grating screech. His eyes bore into yours as he sits, leaning forward to get an even closer look at your face.

"You were trespassing." He says it so flatly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Trespassing?" You ask, keeping your tone guarded.

"Trespassing," he echoes flatly, dark eyes narrowing like a blade being honed to a point. "What are you doing here?"

You swallow, but your throat is dry, like dust has settled there, thick and choking. “I wasn’t trespassing. I was sleeping.”

He tilts his head quizzically, studying you like a wolf watching a rabbit. "Sleeping, huh? And why should I believe that?"

“I didn’t know anyone lived out here,” you go on, slower now. "I'm just passing through."

"You didn't say why I should believe you," he says in the same flat, almost menacing voice. You can't blame him entirely for not believing you. Anyone will lie to anyone to get what they want. Ever since the world went to shit, no one could trust anyone. Even your allies could become your enemy when infected came around or food ran low.

You adjust your posture, instinctively leaning away from the masked man as unease coils in your gut. The chill of the wall seeps through your clothes as your back presses against the cold, damp wall. “For all I know,” he says, his voice low and edged with suspicion, “you’re just waiting for the right moment to knock me out, strip me of my weapons, and leave me here as bait for the infected. That way I won’t be able to follow you when you run.”

You swipe your tongue over your chapped, sunburned lips. "I lost my camp to a horde. I was just trying to sleep... honest." Your voice comes out more shaken than you intended, betraying your unease about the masked stranger.

"Hmmm," he hums pensively, fingers tapping rhythmically against his thigh. "Quite the set up you had out there with the cans. Clever." Relief runs through your veins when he leans back in his chair, seeming to believe you. The wood creaks slightly under his weight. Neither of you speak for what feels like several minutes, the silence pressing down on you.

He finally speaks, voice quiet and low, like a sound not meant to travel far.

“How long?”

You blink, confused. “How long what?”

A pause.

“How long you been alone?”

The question hangs in the air, heavier than the silence that came before it. Your chest tightens before you answer, "six days." That’s all. You don’t offer anything more. No details, no context. He doesn’t ask, and you’re grateful for it.

He asks your name, eyes watching you closely. For a moment, you hesitate, the thought of lying flashing through your mind, wondering if giving him the truth is a mistake. But after a beat, and with a sigh that betrays your uncertainty, you give it anyway.

All he gives is a curt nod, "Ghost."

---

The fire is warm and comforting against your wet skin. You hear Vivienne moving behind you, the sound muffled and distorted. The blanket over your shoulders is heavy.

Vivienne's voice echoes in your head, the words indistinguishable. You close your eyes and try to focus, but the syllables slip through your grasp like water through cupped hands. The shadows of the fire dance in distorted figures across the walls.

The wind blowing outside morphs into the cries and snarls of the infected. Vivienne's fingers curl into your hair. You try to turn, but the weight of the blanket pulls you down, holds you there. Her ghostly grip tightens in your hair.

The cold of her hands seeps into your skin, destroying the warmth and comfort that the fire had brought you. Her breath is a ghost on the back of your neck.

"They're coming. They're at the door"

Her raspy, broken voice echoes through the shack. Your body frozen in place, limbs locked. You feel the racing of your heart, feel it pounding on your rib cage like it wishes to break free from your body.

The howling of the infected grows deafening as Vivienne vanishes like blown smoke. The door shakes and cracks, darkness from outside creeping in.

You jolt awake, the ghostly dream of your friend fading, but lingering at the forefront of your mind.

The masked man, who you've come to know as Ghost doesn't say much to you in the days that follow. Not that you're conscious for most of it anyway. The cut in your side had gotten infected, and the fever that came with it left you drifting in and out of consciousness. Ghost didn't do much to help you, only lending a hand if he absolutely had to. He keeps you fed with just the scraps from his own meals.

"You'll be out of here when you're better."

You spend much time debating why he would bother taking you in the first place if he's going to hardly patch you up and send you out on your own again. In your rare moments of lucidity you notice him watching you, studying you as if you would jump up and get him at any second. Even in your best state, taking down this mountain of a man would be a ridiculous thought. His gaze always lingers, boring into you like he can see your insides.

"Here," he grumbles as he unceremoniously drops a plate of food onto your lap. It's a measly meal, scraps of rabbit and a few small potatoes, but enough to keep you going.

This was the routine. Food scraps when you're awake, one or two grumbled words, and his suspicious stare. He seemed to believe your story, what little information you gave him at least, but trust did not seem to come along with it.

You eat slowly, careful not to make a mess, even though your hands tremble with weakness, sleep and delirium still lingering. Ghost doesn’t sit. He stands by the window, arms crossed, the lower half of his mask lifted just enough for a bite of the rabbit he caught today. You wonder what he looked like under it. All you can see is pink lips and a strong jaw. The mystery of him is quite intriguing. A man all alone in what seems to be a hand-built cabin with game readily available was interesting enough, but the mask and reluctance— no, inability to hold a conversation with you only made him more fascinating. You never dare to ask him any questions though. His piercing stare and indiscernible motive kept you quiet. 

“You should change that bandage,” he mutters, eyes flicking to the old bandages over the cut on your side.

You nod stiffly, “I will.” You had to ration the small amount of supplies you had managed to grab in your escape. Ghost made it clear several times that your supplies were yours and his were his. No sharing. Supplies were scarce, painfully so. You couldn’t really blame him for being frugal with what he had. He even refused to help you change your bandages, even if you were tired and weak. He would wait until you were awake, hurl your bag at your feet and stalk off to hunt or at least that's what you imagine he’s doing. 

You haven't heard the wails or gnashing of teeth in the few feverish days you have spent here. Wherever you were, whatever he was doing was keeping them away.

Ghost stands still as he watches you, having pulled his mask back down over the bottom of his face. You shift your weight, testing the ache in your side. It’s still there, sharp and insistent, but manageable. Ghost doesn’t speak again, just watches. Always watching. The silence claws at you. You’re not sure why it bothers you so much. Maybe it’s the fact that he doesn’t look away. Maybe it’s because it makes you feel like prey. 

You lick your lips. “You could try being a little less creepy, you know.”

“I’m not the one galavanting around looking like an infected on a strangers property,” he argues, head tilting slightly.

Your eyes narrow at him, “I was trying to sleep. You brought me inside. You could have just left me there.”

He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t agree either. Just turns away, stepping toward the counter. He picks up a small, battered canteen. He tosses it to you without looking. You catch it clumsily, nearly spilling the contents as the lid jostles loose.

“Drink,” he mutters.

“Thanks,” you say before you can stop yourself. The word feels strange in your mouth, like it doesn’t belong in this space. You drink eagerly, having run out of your own water supply two days ago. 

You hug your arms around your torso, suddenly cold. “Why haven’t you kicked me out yet?” The question lingers in the air between you, more dangerous than you intended.

Ghost doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. “Still deciding.”

Your brow lifts, curiosity fighting with your frustration. “Deciding what, exactly?”

Another pause. This one feels longer. Like he’s thinking about something, but the mask makes it impossible to read. He makes no move to reply to you, leaving the question hanging. 

You let out a frustrated sigh. Of course he won’t answer. Passing the canteen back to him, you speak again, “You have something against answering questions or something? You don’t have to be so… cryptic all the time.”

His expression, at least what you can see, doesn't change. He lets out an unimpressed huff, “I could kick you out right now. The infected will like you a whole lot more than I do.”

“God, alright… dramatic,” you murmur to yourself, rolling your eyes. 

After many minutes of tense silence, Ghost speaks, “You talk in your sleep. Who’s Vivienne?” His tone is stern and accusatory. Your entire body stiffens as if the mere sound of the name has reopened a wound you'd barely managed to scar over. 

You turn to face him, your voice strained and defensive. “Why do you care? She’s none of your business.”

He takes a step closer, his gaze unwavering beneath the mask, and replies with quiet intensity, “I’m making it my business.”

You let out a bitter breath, swallowing down the emotion clawing its way up your throat. “We were friends,” you say, the words clipped. “Happy now?”

You had lost Vivienne only nine days ago now but the memory of her is already slipping from your brain like a slow leaking faucet. The nightmares are a strange comfort. At least in them you can hear her voice again, even if it’s muffled and distorted. But, you won’t share any of this with Ghost. He’s not your friend and once you’re healed, you’re getting the hell out of here. He was merciful enough to let you heal in his cabin, not leaving you to run into some strong nosed infected, but he is not your friend, not your confidant. 

“Satisfied,” he nods, “We’ve all lost people.” He taps his foot for a moment as if he’s debating his next move. “You were clever.”

You blink. “What?”

“With the cans on the trees. It was… clever.” He admits it almost begrudgingly, like it pains him to compliment you, like the acknowledgement will cost him something.

“Thanks?” you offer, unsure whether to feel flattered.

He looks like he’s about to say more but he stops himself. Whatever it was getting swallowed. He opts to grab a roll of his own bandages and toss them at you. “Only use a little.”

“I have my own.” You set the bandages off to the side, hand shaking weakly, betraying how worn down you really are. 

“Not enough,” he reminds you and stalks off to the back of the cabin where his bedroom is. 

Still deciding.

The words echo in your head as you shakily clean your side, replacing the borderline decrepit bandages. Still deciding what? 

[fyrefrostanimus]

Alright, so you guys really seemed to like the "Hero sleep-talking in the others' voices" part of my recent Hero post, and I just came up with an added piece of lore for it.

So, since Hero ends up sleep-talking a LOT, there's some absolutely hilarious, nonsensical, or just plain out-of-context things he's said while completely out for the night.

And it all comes back to Contrarian, just not really directly. Hero is very much nocturnal, feeling barely able to relax during the day enough to take a nap. As is Connie, who has three modes: "bouncing off the walls with his antics," "having a bad time with his self-hatred," and "sleeping like a rock." The last one is almost a guarantee at night, so he misses everything Hero says while he's dreaming.

And Cold still wants to repay him for all the snacks that the little guy would always take the blame for stealing. So he starts noting down the quotes, standing slightly creepily outside the door with a notepad and scratching down the silly ones (as well as whose voice Hero said them in for the full experience). Cold had gotten quite a collection by the time Paranoid noticed.

Now, Paranoid had been hearing Hero's sleep-talking for a while by that point and was planning to tell him about it. But he really didn't have much proof of specifically the voice impressions. And while a written record doesn't really provide that evidence, Cold really isn't the type to just make shit up. And that's why they started collaborating, with two copies of the quote pages being made: one for Cold to share with Contrarian, and the other for Paranoid to prove that Hero is indeed sleep-talking with full on vocal impressions.

They start taking shifts as scribe, albeit rather irregular ones since they can afford to do that without their behavior becoming too unusual (both of them have the habit of sleeping when they can during the day, Cold because he can literally get comfy anywhere and Paranoid because he has a good amount of nyctophobia). Then they check through the pages.

Honestly just a bit insane how the Wraith duo came back together to work on something.

[idrawweirdstuffnominors]

This is just a little embarrassing but I LOVE your final and how you write bill and 👉👈 would you ever do chunky epilogue Bill x a dorky also chunky fem reader totally chilld if you don't I'm just (´TωT`)

(Its a continuation from the first chubby reader x bill dickey I did)

Title: “You're Mine. Don’t Forget It.”

Chubby Nerdy Reader x Epilogue Bill Dickey | Birthday Scene | Denial, Horny Bill, Self-Loathing, Soft Dom Vibes

The room was dim, the buzz of the con barely fading from your ears. Bill was sulking next to you on the couch, arms crossed, fidgeting with the hem of his shitty T-shirt like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. The soft flicker of birthday candles danced on your cake, but Bill was absolutely not acting like he was even aware of the gesture.

“Happy birthday,” he muttered, voice dripping with sarcasm, but you knew he meant it. You could hear it in the way he wasn’t quite meeting your eyes, despite trying to act like he couldn’t care less.

You grinned, pushing the cake closer to him. “Thanks. You didn’t have to get me anything. I was expecting a half-assed insult.”

Bill snorted, eyes trailing down your outfit — a snug black dress you’d grabbed because you thought it was cute and made your curves pop. Your thighs looked thicker in it, and your chest? God, it was all you’d hoped for. But Bill? He was acting like he was still too cool for school, despite the noticeable bulge pressing against his jeans.

“Yeah, well, figured I’d give you somethin' nice for once. Even if it makes me look like a sap.” He gave a rough chuckle, though his eyes didn’t look like they were laughing. They were soft in that way that always made you wonder if he was thinking of something else.

“You’re so full of shit,” you said with a smirk, tilting your head. “You’re definitely hard right now.”

He froze, posture stiffening. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

You didn’t let him off the hook. “C’mon. Your pants don’t lie. You act like you can’t stand my fat ass, but you sure seem to love it when I wear tight dresses.”

Bill shot you a glare, but you could see it — the way his chest was rising a little quicker, the way his eyes flickered to your legs and back up to your tits. He wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Cut the crap. I ain’t attracted to you like that,” he grumbled, trying to sound convincing, but it only made you chuckle under your breath.

“Really?” you asked sweetly, pressing your hands against your hips. “Then why the hell were you so eager to fuck me in that parking lot two years ago? I didn’t even ask.”

Bill went dead still, face twisting in a mixture of denial and anger. His lips parted as if he were about to snap, but the words never came. Instead, he just growled, “That was different.”

“Yeah, because you were so desperate for my fat ass you couldn’t even wait to take my virginity on the hood of your car. Real classy, Bill,” you teased, poking the edge of his pride just enough.

He glared at you like you were the one to blame for everything—his growing frustration, the heat building in his pants, the weird knot in his chest that felt a little too much like longing. He hated it. Hated how you could always make him feel like this.

“You think you got me all figured out, huh?” Bill spat, leaning forward and gripping your chin a little harder than necessary, eyes cold and calculating. “You really think I give a shit about you in a tight dress?”

“Oh, I know you do,” you replied smugly, running a finger over his hand on your chin. “You’ve been pretending like you’re not into me the whole damn time. You think I don’t see it? You think I don’t feel how hard you get when I move in close? You think I don’t hear you when you groan at the sight of me in my clothes?”

He tensed, mouth tightening, jaw clenching. “Shut the hell up.”

But you knew. You could see it, even if he tried to deny it. The truth was right there, hiding in plain sight.

Bill couldn’t stop himself. He was angry — angry that you knew exactly how to push his buttons, angry that you saw him for what he was: a messy, broken man who had no idea how to be loved, but couldn’t stop wanting you like a damn animal.

“Fine,” he bit out, eyes dark with a twisted, possessive glint. “You wanna talk about that night? You want me to admit it?”

You leaned back, arms folded, waiting for him to crack. He was too proud to admit it, but you knew it was coming.

Bill leaned forward, gripping your chin harder, forcing your gaze to meet his. His voice dropped low, thick with an anger that wasn’t quite anger. “I wanted to fuck you because I wanted you. I’m into you, alright? I like you with that fat ass. I like every damn inch of you, and I don't give a shit who knows it anymore.”

You smirked, pressing closer, feeling his cock twitch under your fingers when you reached up to grab the back of his neck. “Good. About time you admitted it.”

But Bill wasn’t done yet. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Now, you’re gonna remember who the fuck you're with.”

You gasped when he tugged your dress down just enough to expose the curve of your chest. He was still grumbling, even though he was clearly hard under his jeans, fingers now brushing the soft skin of your thigh.

“You’re mine, got it?”

You didn’t respond with words. You just kissed him — hard, desperate, hungry. Bill’s hands immediately slid down your body, gripping your waist like he was afraid you’d slip away if he loosened his hold.

He pulled back with a messy, frustrated groan. “You’re so fucking distracting, y'know that?”

“Is that a bad thing?” you purred, already undoing his jeans.

Bill’s eyes flickered to yours — a flash of something like regret, but that faded quickly into the familiar anger. The anger he used to cover the way you made him feel.

“No,” he said, breath shaky now. “But you’re still gonna regret saying shit like that.”

“Then make me,” you whispered.

Bill’s anger burns bright, but it’s an anger that’s tinged with something darker, something desperate. He’s controlling the moment now, but you can see it in his eyes — he’s barely hanging on. His usual defensive walls are crumbling, and you know exactly how to tear them down.

He grabs your wrist, pulling your hand away from the waistband of his jeans. The sudden force makes your heart skip a beat, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you hold his gaze, steady and defiant.

“You want this, don’t you?” you challenge, a grin playing on your lips.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, his hands move aggressively, shoving your chest down onto the couch cushions, his body hovering over yours, his breath hot and ragged against your neck.

“Shut the fuck up,” Bill growls, his voice a low rasp, but there’s a certain rawness in it that he can’t mask. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips as he pulls you flush against him, grinding his hardness against you, showing you exactly how much he’s been denying.

You moan, unable to hold back the sound as your body responds to his touch — to his heat, his dominance. It’s intoxicating, the way he’s taking control, the way he’s reminding you that he’s the one in charge.

“You think you know me, huh?” Bill spits, his grip tightening around your neck as he leans down, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. “You think you can just walk in here and control me?”

He’s panting now, and you know he’s fighting every instinct that’s telling him to stop — but there’s no stopping him now. Bill’s cock is hard, pressed firmly against you, and you can feel the way his body shakes with the effort of holding back.

You smirk, turning your head to whisper in his ear, “You like the way I look, Bill. Don’t lie.”

The words hit him like a slap. You see the way his eyes flash with anger, but there’s something else there too. Something vulnerable, something he’s never been able to admit.

“Fuck you,” he snarls, but it’s weak, desperate. He’s struggling to keep up the bravado, but you can see how much you’ve broken him down.

Bill’s hands shift to your shoulders, shoving you further back into the cushions, as he climbs on top of you. His knee pushes between your legs, forcing them apart, and you’re completely exposed now. Completely at his mercy.

“You think you’re in charge here?” Bill taunts, his voice dark with lust. “You think you can control me? You’re the one who’s gonna end up begging for it, sweetheart.”

Your breath catches in your throat as he thrusts against you, hard and unforgiving, making sure you feel exactly how much he’s been holding back. He’s not gentle, not soft. This is Bill Dickey — angry, frustrated, and finally breaking down all the walls he’s spent years building around himself.

“You don’t get to tell me what I am,” he growls, his voice thick with desire. “I’m not the nice guy, sweetheart. I’m not your fucking prince charming. You’re gonna take it — take me — and you’re gonna love it.”

You push your hips up, grinding against him, making him groan, but you can tell he’s still holding back, still fighting it. He hates the way he’s reacting to you, but he can’t deny it anymore.

His hands move to your dress, ripping it down, exposing your bare chest to him. His eyes darken even further as he glares at your body, and you know he’s fighting every instinct he has not to touch you, not to worship you in the way you both know he wants to.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice strained. “You think I’m some kind of weakling? You think I’m just gonna fall for you like a fucking simp?”

You reach up, grabbing the back of his head and pulling him down to kiss you roughly. You don’t let him deny it anymore. You don’t let him get away with pretending.

He whimpers in the kiss, lips trembling as he’s forced to confront everything he’s been avoiding. He wants you — and he’s so fucking tired of pretending he doesn’t.

You break the kiss, your fingers tracing the edge of his jaw, and you whisper, “Admit it, Bill. You want this. You’ve always wanted me, you’re just too fucking scared to admit it.”

Bill freezes. You can see the internal battle raging inside of him — the shame, the anger, the desire, the need.

He pulls back slightly, his hand hovering over your neck as if he’s about to choke the life out of you. But instead, his grip softens, and his thumb brushes over the delicate skin, as if he’s almost too afraid to touch you the way he wants to.

“Fine,” Bill snarls, his voice a mixture of rage and desperation. “You want me to admit it? I’ll admit it. I’m into you. I like the way you look. I want you. Happy now?”

You smile. This was the Bill you knew — the broken one, the messed-up one, the one who wanted more but couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“Good,” you whisper, your hands gripping his hips and pulling him down closer to you. “Now fuck me like you mean it.”

Bill’s expression shifts — no longer angry, but desperate. He’s so close to losing it, and it’s all because of you.

He lets out a shaky breath, his hands on your body, forcing your legs further apart, his cock pressing against you as he slams into you, hard, desperate.

The moans that escape his mouth are guttural, raw — not from pleasure, but from desperation. He doesn’t know how to handle the overwhelming need, the overwhelming emotion coursing through him.

His thrusts are messy, wild, like he’s trying to put you in your place, trying to prove something to you — and himself.

But you don’t need him to prove anything. You’ve always known. Bill Dickey needed this. He needed someone to take charge, to demand it — and he needed you.

He’s a mess — whimpering, moaning, completely at your mercy — and for the first time, Bill isn’t in control. And you love it. You love seeing him unravel, bit by bit, until there’s nothing left but raw desire.

He’s not just yours. He knows it now.

---

[crowpill3d]

teddy cam

flavours: love and deepspace, the love club: mots doux d'une défunte

ingredients: caleb x reader or vincent x reader (i never decided)

allergens: manipulation, yandere tendencies, stalking, vincent shit, very very very slight self harm, possessive behaviour, enmeshment, slight derealisation (mostly if you read it as a vincent fic)

contents: 672 words, stream of consciousness (don’t kill me)

nonono. he loves you — really does. that’s why he does it. you really don’t understand do you, you’re his… well i could leave it there but what i mean to say is that you’re his everything. and he’s your everything too, right? of he is, why on earth would you lie to him?

think about logically. who’s been there since day one? you could say the boy who lived a few doors around and made you those stupid gifts — but you’d be wrong. he’s been there since day one. besides, you didn’t realise they were seals until you were an adult. so does that ‘friend’ really matter?

sure, he did somethings you wouldn’t understand. like locking you in the attic. they couldn’t reach you up there! he could protect you and keep those animals away. but still, he’s your teddy bear. cuddle him, hold him close, press him to your chest. he likes the sound of your heartbeat and he hopes you like the sound of his.

you really didn’t get it then, and he doesn’t think you get it now (i, personally, have yet to pick a side).

he sighs. this argument has been coming for a while. he tries to hold some sympathy. you’ve been away from him for far too long, so i suppose that it’s strange -yeah let’s put it like that- for him to be observant. if he were to dare utter the word ‘observant’ to you, you would sneer. that sneer always stirs a conflict in his gut. on the one hand, he loathes seeing you angry but, oh! how cute you look with a wrinkled lip and a dagger in your stare.

it’s not day one anymore. you’re an adult now. there are things in the adult world you’re just not ready for. the people here will take from you without asking.

he’s lying. adults have always been taking from you. and him, too. that’s why you’re so precious. you… you’re here: real, physical evidence that he’s not alone.

that’s why he can never let you go.

and that’s also why he’s here — to protect you, pipsqueak! and that’s why he’s watching. to make sure you don’t get hurt. you might be all grown up now but… you still need to be protected. maybe not from neighbour bullies now. no, the threats are much bigger. and he’s always been your protector. so why stop now?

oh, what’s that look for, dear? you don’t hate him. of course you don’t. how dare you even think about it! remember all the times you’ve cried into his chest while his arms hold you. even now, while insults spill like poison from your tongue, you’re still crying into his chest. he likes to think his heartbeat in your ear keeps you stable.

do you remember when you first held his hand? when the summer sun beat down on both your backs like the claws of a lion and you were both sitting by the pool. you were so cute and so worried about slipping into the pool. of course, you wanted his protect. your dear teddy bear.

but now, you barely even glance his way. you’ve started being sneakier too. dodging curfews and going god knows where. you can’t be late — the adults will blame him for it. and now he’s been sitting on that god forsaken leather arm chair clawing his skin off.

but it’s the very act of you avoiding him that makes is surveillance a necessary evil. it’s not… wrong for your safety. you’re no stranger to what lurks outside the teddy bear’s watch. parents put nanny cams in cribs, right? they’re their to protect the baby. he’s here to protect you.

so there’s your answer. no — he’s not backing off. certainly not leaving you alone. he needs to keep you safe more than he needs the air in his lungs. who cares if the teddy has a spycam in it? still a soft, warm teddy who protects you from nightmares.

food for thought: i like to think this what goes through vince’s head whenever i princess diana him with alex turner. i haven’t touched lnds for ages, this may be a little too unhinged for caleb. ignore mistakes or i will cry

[hainethehero]

Steve is held to an impossible standard and therefore the bad takes on him are almost always by people who need to find a way to make it about their “favs.”

Case in point: Tony and Bucky fans. Almost always at the scene of the crime, and continue to be. I say this as someone who is solely a Steve fan and not Bucky or Tony fan. I don’t care for either of those characters and especially their deranged fans who feel the need to make everything about Steve about them instead of Steve. But I would never go into their tags and make stuff about Steve. Because it’s their right to talk about their favs but I don’t think it’s fair that Steve needs to always be dragged into convos that have nothing to do with him.

Steve as a character hasn’t been in the MCU for about 6 years. Yet his tumblr tag contains nonsense to this minute, and it’s mostly Bucky fans making everything about him 24/7 or bitter Tony fans making civil war discourse in 2025.

Sam is getting similar treatment because he’s taken on the cap mantle but his treatment is worse with an added layer of obvious and sometimes not so obvious racism. He also cannot make a mistake or do something that is controversial because he will be held to an impossible standard. I could get into this but since this post is about Steve I won’t. But Sam deserves better and TBH, I think Sam/Steve deserves more love and I find that ship to be much less toxic because the fans seem to know these two love each other dearly and how much Steve wanted to be around Sam since Day 1. How much Sam respects Steve and simply watches his six and why Steve handed him the Shield.

But guys like Bucky and Tony can do lame and act dumb shit after dumb shit and will always be forgiven or sympathized with by their fans because their fans love to be delusional about them. Poor them always.

Bucky is getting a lot of support for potentially screwing things over for Sam but the GP and fandom is mostly on his side and it appears he’s now being compared to iron man if the thunderbolts new poster has anything to do with it.

Tony gets sympathized with because his character is arguably the MCU’s face and most important. The Russo brothers purposely having Steve withhold info from Tony (unconvincingly IMO, because where was the build up? How did allegedly no one else know but Steve and how or when did he even find out? Why is he the only person who gets blamed for this when idk, shield and everyone else involved is right there??) was always going to set people off. Ironman asskissers will support anything he does and he is the most popular character. So if anyone goes against him or something happens where it looks like he was wronged of course the masses will jump to support him and villainize the other person. In this case, it was Steve. But you know, they could have not written the script like this and did the comics version of civil war or idk avoided civil war altogether and went with serpent society and did a real cap movie like they were supposed to. But I digress.

But yes, you are correct. The bad takes towards Steve by Tony fans are very funny but Tony fans literally have it all. He is the face of the cinematic universe and that’s sort of bled into the comics side of things since the MCU mainstreamed his popularity over the last decade and a half. He snapped in endgame to save the world and now his memory lives on. What else do they need to be mad about?

Maybe because oh…idk, even after all this time, Steve’s storylines and discourse are still being discussed to this day and he’s still somehow relevant to a universe that has placed him in the rear view. The conversations around the super soldier serum continued throughout the TV shows, movies, and even Cap Civil War is still discoursed about day after day. Could it be, marvel realizing that Steve became a more compelling character than they expected and his popularity was starting to eclipse that of their Godfather so Civil War had to come in and throw a wrench into things.

After TWS, the popularity for Cap/Steve exploded and I don’t think marvel was expecting that. I also don’t think marvel was prepared for the visceral response by some of the fandom towards the ending of Steve’s arc and how much some fans still cannot let that go and the constant wondering of where he went, demanding for rewrites and fix its and bringing him back and etc etc so on.

I think it’s interesting to say the least. Such a “boring” “do good” “self righteous” lame character shouldn’t still be in everyone’s mouths and thoughts after all this time…right?

THIS. ALL OF THIS.

[david-the-great]

David had dragged Heather away, making the choice for her. The girl had to grow up one day, and David knew that she would’ve been too far gone if he hadn’t stepped in. As he descended the stairs, he picked up on how the other two girls voices subsided as he made his way to the bottom floor of the church. Good, they were just here to cause trouble anyway - to distract Heather from her true purpose in life of setting down with a good man such as himself. He would soon embark across the church’s entryway, dodging exquisite flower arrangements, and the nosy eyes of guests who still lingered in the hallway. All she had to do was walk down that aisle, simple as that - and it’d be fine. All would be forgiven as simple wedding jitters, and it would all finally be set in stone. David would give a final tug on Heathers hair, reeling her body into his grip before attempting to spin her up and onto her feet. Now, Heather was quiet, accepting, no longer fighting against the man’s guidance. And maybe this was the submission he truly needed, the type of limpness, and obedient gaze that he had longed for in Heather ever since she first strutted into his life with way too much confidence for a girl who could so easily have everything taken away - and that is just what he did. Except, maybe this wasn’t what he needed, maybe it wasn’t what he had expected - because when he had got so close to having all he ever wanted, when he could’ve fixed this all, he lost it.

He’d raise Heather up and onto her feet, digging his hands into her thin waist, the fabric of her robe crinkling beneath his tight grip. She had lost weight, he mused to himself. Maybe it was the lack of parties, and whoring herself around that did it, but either way he didn’t linger on the thought for too long. Now he was practically holding her above him like a holy artifact, her feet dangling off the ground. The light from the stained glass windows surrounded her, catching against her blonde hair, and gleaming around her like a halo. Now was his time, he’d could have it all, and yet - he didn’t seize it. As Heather tragically crashed down at alarming speed, falling into the shadow cast by the window trim the room was filled with a violent scream. Her voice was ear shattering, but what came after was worse - the smashing of a glass table, its shards scattering across the floor like a heavy rain. The flower arrangement which once sat atop the table now smashed and replaced with the fallen and decrepit body of Heather Chandler.

David finally took a breath in, his fists began to shake, and he was absolutely seething with white hot anger. His hard breaths were drowned out by the strong commotion of guests - the crowd he had yet to noticed forming was staring on in disbelief. People started shuffling in from the ceremony hall to gasp in shock at the sight. But, they were simple background noise as David erupted into a scream. hushed murmuring filling the air with each angry word he spat out.

“Y-you’re pathetic Heather! You couldn’t handle just one simple day - your own damn wedding day no less?!”

David would huff out, taking a thundering step towards her.

“Today was- it’s supposed to be about you, you’re supposed to be happy! You should know how hard I worked ensuring e-everything was perfect, no-.. that it went to plan.”

He’d take another step forward, the pristine soles of his shoes being met with nothing but stomped glass shards.

“You’ve ruined it, your demonic little desires, and whatever fucked up shit goes on in your head- today’s been ruined, your entire life has been ruined, and there is nobody to blame except yourself Heather.”

( @heathermcnamara1989 @greasylittlenobody )

Veronica, like any other driver, hated parallel parking. Unfortunately, judging by how many cars lined down the street of the church, there was no other option. She had suggested to Mac earlier that day about waiting for other guests to arrive first, because it would be easier to sneak through once the hosts become preoccupied with many other guests.

she smoothed out her plaid blue dress, quickly checking her reflection out in her small silver pocket mirror, then whipping her head to Heather. “Ready?”

@heathermcnamara1989

[shanklin]

Stanford never became friends with Fiddleford.

Instead he got himself a different small friend group who cares a lot about him. At least about the Ford he pretended to be in college.

A kind, soft spoken formerly bullied genius who researches very dull stuff in Oregon and definitely not anything weird. Their Ford would never break any rules or ignore safety measures [unlike that other student they heard about during their college years.]

And then Ford stops answering their calls and loses his grant. 

It’s time for an intervention and they start pestering Ford with letters and calls until he finally agrees to meet them at a science convention, but he’ll take his brother with him.

They’re relieved! Ford is with Shermie! They like Shermie! It's a good thing that Ford still has one brother who isn't a good for nothing selfish criminal who destroyed his entire future!

If they ever get their hands on Ford’s evil twin they’ll make sure he’ll regret ever messing with their friend. Ford is too nice for revenge. They aren’t.

Meanwhile at the not-yet Mystery Shack, the Stans freshly survived their own angsty canon divergent tale of two stans AU and locked Bill out of Ford's mind like a week ago.

Stan: I don’t know how long Ford will keep me around but this will be good for him. He needs some friends to take care of him after I inevitably get kicked out again!

Ford: I only agreed to this because Stan insisted and I still haven’t found a way to thank him and apologize. I hope all my “friends” die in a fire.

[scraemoo]

Tubbo actually tried to debunk everything, stay fair in regards of Dream's words and didn't even skip a second on the VOD.

The other however skipped sequences on Tubbo's VOD, stopped mid Tubbo's sentences and ranted about things solely based on a few words without the needed context (and skipped said context lots of times) + mostly ranted about things in no regards to the r-slur. Just completely different stuff

I've only seen 2/3 of Dream's VOD but the situation around the r-slur was just about 1% of the whole VOD

[papercutsmp3]

god i hate working a two person job being someone who doesn't miss or forget a thing with my coworker who idgafing through her life bc the way it hurts my pride when i have to also bear the burden of her not doing the job properly

[jackass-jones]

Starfire teen titans my best friend Starfire id burn alive for you

[amaranthinius]

Some of yall are making me wonder if we watched the same anime?

[gregoftom]

TOMMMMMMMMTOMAFOMAFO TOM SWEEEEEEP TOM SWEEP!!!!! TOM SWEEP GOL GOL GOL GOL GOL GOLAZOOOOOOO GOL GOL GOL

[sensitivegoblin]

Vent