softsaki-icons

[sentientsky]

the cicadas are singing somewhere outside and your heart is in your throat and he's looking you in the eyes with something resembling trust and you don't know if you deserve it. your vision's gone all kaleidoscopic and dizzying, the crowd dissolving into fractures of light and cacophony. and still, he's handing you the gun. you feel an oil slick settle under your skin, feel it sizzle and spit in the incandescent heat of a stage turned colosseum, turned hallowed, wretched ground wherever the light finds purchase. you're a demon and he's an angel and neither one of you has ever known the shape of sickness, never felt it settle in the wing-span-bird-hollows of your bones. but you know it now; know the way it slithers, acrid and vicious, carving into the gore of your esophagus. you know it now like an old friend; like the swoop of pale eyelashes against skin; like the slope of his throat, and the way his voice rises at the end as he speaks prophecy into being: aim for my mouth. his mouth—his soft/slanting/beautiful mouth, so far away from your own. fear strings itself between the rungs of your ribcage, burrows deep into aorta and vessel and gore.

but shoot past my ear. and he says it as though you've ever held a weapon with any trace of volition; as though you wouldn't rather face destruction than watch him come to ruin, than let his blood be on your hands (centuries spool out before you, and you're standing in a darkened theatre with a make-believe king and a thane and a ghost. and you can see the woman stained with blood no longer there. you watch the way she tears at her own flesh, scrubs it raw as though she might be made holy once more. the space between your shoulder blades ache). you don't think you could hurt him even if you tried. but the stage lights are so sickly and you're choking back bile and he's a million miles away from you. there's something cracking apart in your chest. the night is heady—the cicadas still sing outside. and you're trembling. you're so close to calling it all off, to pulling him into the wings and out into the amnesia of a heavy night. exit stage right, and all that. but then, trust me. and there it is. it crashes into you with a devastating, inevitable certainty. you'd do anything he wished. you'd rend the sky apart with your teeth. you'd reach into your chest and hand him your all-too-human heart, if only he'd ask. so you hold your breath. you aim. and you pray.

[hyewka]

idk if this is allowed but,

threesome with yeonjun and beomgyu

⭑ fetish! | c.yj & c.bg ࿐

⭑ synopsis; when a late night conversation with soju and beer transforms into the calling out of choi beomgyus historical pattern of hook up bluffs the attention eventually shifts to you and your sex endeavors.

⭑ warnings; inexperienced!reader, sort of soft dom!yj & switch!gyu, cunninglingus, gagging, throat fuck, cum eating, unsafe sex, creampie, basically all of them are drunk to some degree, iffy word choice with consent but its all definitely consensual, doll/baby petname, childhood best friends/college au

⭑ note; i don’t know how to feel about this at all and i feel like i might wake up one day and just randomly despise it with my entire being but here is a threesome fic long overdue on this blog, take it with what you will because this might just be the last time i ever attempt to challenge my skills 😭

⭑ send in a small prompt with the format of (member) + (nsfw prompt) and ill write you a small drabble!

“So what if we didn’t go all the way, I still got to eat her out. Which she loved F.Y.I.”

Yeonjun snorts, downing his drink. “Dude you’re such a loser.”

“Just say you don’t get bitches like I do.”

You don’t mean to, but that’s what breaks your nonchalance, cracking up like that was the funniest thing you’ve heard.

Like clockwork, both of their heads turn to you expectantly, as if remembering that you’re here with them and you know you just messed up. Maybe if you keep looking at your phone they’d know to leave you alone.

This has been a thing since highschool; their dumb Who Gets More Action wars that served almost no purpose but to stroke their young male egos. More times than you could count, you’re for some reason sucked in as the end all be all judge even if there were others present they could go and bother with details of their sex life.

You’re not letting that happen tonight. You will not become Simon Cowell of who fucks more.

“Hey,” Beomgyu starts nudging you with his feet, annoyingly persistent. “Hey hey, get off your phone, what are you laughing at?”

Yeonjun easily swipes your phone from your hands making you throw your head back groaning. God, to hell with him. “Give it back!” you whine. He shrugs, stuffing your phone in his pockets. Asshole.

You glare at him with murder on your mind, but all that gets you is a condescending pout thrown your way.

“Ughhh I’m going to throw up, stop with the flirting.”

You throw your plastic cup at Beomgyu’s face, and he flinches back in the most dramatic sense ever. “Bitch.” you mutter.

Yeonjun ignores Beomgyu’s comment altogether. “Everyone knows I get more bitches than you Beomgyu. That’s why she laughed. Plus, you make up shit all the time.”

“I do not.”

“You do. You lied about Yoo Jimin.” You recall, giving up on getting your phone back.

Yeonjun makes a sound of remembrance, clasping his hands together. “That was actually so funny. Yoo Jimin. You’ve lost your mind.”

Beomgyu shoots you a betrayed look, “No way you believe his propaganda! We literally had sex! Halloween 2021!”

You give him a skeptical look, brows raised. Beomgyu could fool anyone, but he can’t fool Yeonjun, let alone you. Beomgyu and Jimin? Didn’t make sense. Not on Earth at least.

“That’s one person anyway who cares.” he mutters.

“Ryujin.” You name. “She’s lesbian Gyu. Even when she was questioning she would’ve rather killed herself than let a man touch her.”

Yeonjun barks into laughter, leaning into you. “Ryujin of all people is fucking mental man.”

“Two people, still very little.” he counters.

Was that a challenge? If he wanted to play this game, you would be an expert.

“Jihyo, Miyeon—”

“I fucked Miyeon.”

“Yeah but you said she let you fuck her in the ass, which! She revealed never happened.”

He gasps in horror, face dropped, like that had to be the most offensive thing hes heard.

“I literally have proof it happened, holy shit Miyeon’s a pathological liar.” Beomgyu fumbles his phone, eyes laser focused as his thumb swipes in rapid speed. You snicker, he’s such an idiot. You know he’ll turn up empty but hes on a mission so you let him be.

“Can you pass me the beer?” you mutter lazily, feeling the alcohol hit you now, making a grabbing motion to the can far from your reach.

“Sure you want more?” Yeonjun whispers, with a similarly lazy slur to his words.

You were all clearly buzzed out, sprawled on the floor of your living room, your table pushed to the side with multiple beer cans crushed in a mess. It’s your version of heaven— a little sad maybe, but it was the perfect mix of mundane and fun to you.

“Just beer.” You reply.

He nods, grabbing it for you and instinctively twisting the cap open. Hes’ always been like that, an acts of service sort of guy. The small flex of his veins when he does it is something you silently take note of. You’re so far gone with your small crush on him.

You clear your throat, snapping yourself out of it. “Thanks. Are you gonna give me back my phone or?”

He pretends to think it over, before clicking his tongue. “Nah, later.”

You roll your eyes, taking a sip from your can.

“We don’t get to hangout like this often, missed it y’know? So you can hold off your phone addiction for a bit and stop acting bratty.” he teases.

“Aye aye captain.”

He tuts at you, nudging your shoulder. “I literally cringe internally every time you say that.”

You hum, looking over at Beomgyu. Who is incredibly tense, almost frozen. “Why’d you stop scrolling?”

Maybe Yeonjun saw what you saw, Beomgyu’s face incredibly red, and eyes so weirdly fixed on his phone because he immediately scoots to him, nosy to take a look at his phone screen.

You study Yeonjun’s face. His brows slowly rise. And the only thing he says is “Damn.”

“What?” you ask, curiosity peaked. Nobody answers though, seemingly hypnotised by whatevers on Beomgyus screen.

Yeah, thats enough for your lazy ass to get up and see what they’re looking at.

…To say it’s not what you expect at all is an understatement.

The video playing has no audio, but the visual splayed out in Beomgyu’s hand is all it takes for your thighs to rub instinctively. The phone was obviously placed by the bedside, the view a little tilted, the girl with her face pressed onto the sheets as Beomgyu fucks into her mercilessly unrecognisable, the bed quite literally shaking to match his rhythm. Your face grows hot, and your throat dries, the video looks old because his hair is longer, messier, something that looked like it was from freshman year.

You’re surprised, it’s more than real. He really was going at it.

“I’m fucking her ass here.”

Holy shit. That must’ve hurt like a bitch.

“How would we know it’s Miyeon though?” Yeonjun says, eyes set on the screen.

Beomgyu forwards the video towards the end and lets it play—its the part where he picks up the phone and holds the girls head up by her hair, turning her over, capturing her face fucked out, a mix of spit and cum evidently all over, but more than that, its Miyeon’s face covered in filth.

You bite down on your lips, nervously looking at Beomgyu—who catches your stare. “What?”

You shake your head, dismissing him.

Truth is, this might’ve been the most you’ve seen from Beomgyu in this light. The light that you’ve heard plenty of, but obviously never thought you’d actually…see. Hes always been slutty, especially with him being infamous for his gross PDA on campus, but seeing it—seeing him actually fucking the light out of someone…you gulp down the lump stuck in your throat.

“You’re a freak dude.” Yeonjun says, laughing.

“But not a liar.”

“Nah you’ve yet to prove Jimins, wheres the tape?”

“You just wanna see her getting railed, touch luck bitch.” Beomgyu closes his phone making you realise you were still staring. “Hey, you good? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Beomgyu shifts his attention to you, making you nervous, shrugging his concern off.

Yeonjun speaks for you instead, a smirk plastered on his face. “She’s a virgin, basically saw something worse than a ghost.”

God, this again!

“I’m not a virgin holy shit Yeonjun!”

“I’m not a virgin holy shit Yeonjun.” He mimics annoyingly high pitched and you groan.

“I’m not. I’ve had multiple boyfriends before.”

“Three.” Beomgyu says, “You’ve had three boyfriends.”

“All very long and fruitful relationships, mind you.”

Yeonjun leans back on the couch, stretching his arms behind his back and you know this is a sign that he’s going to be a little bitch about this. “How far have you went?”

“All the way.” you glare back challengily, sipping on your beer.

“Had someone nut in your ass?”

You snap your head to Beomgyu in horror, upper lip quirked. Of course he’d be curious about that. “Damn I’m taking that as a no.”

You force a smile and flip him off rightfully. The little bitch sticks his tongue out at you in retaliation and you have half the mind to not smack him.

“Have you done it without a condom?”

You narrow your eyes at that. Yeonjun’s awfully curious, way too curious for someone whos never been curious. Seriuously, he’d be the last person to care for your sex life. Maybe Beomgyu—totally Beomgyu, but not Yeonjun.

“Is this an interrogation?”

Yeonjun shrugs.

“I—okay, I haven’t. I bet you guys haven’t either.” You immediately regret saying that, it’s obvious they’ve done something so trivial. And its even made more obvious when both of them start laughing maniacally.

Your face runs red, resorting to chugging more beer.

Beomgyu rests his head on your lap suddenly and you quirk your brow down at him. “What? Your thighs are comfortable.”

You narrow your eyes at him, skeptical of what exactly he’s trying to pull until Yeonjun’s asking you questions again after calming down from his laughing fit.

“Gotten fingered?”

“Well no shit.”

Beomgyus attention is piqued, “You have?”

“How else am I supposed to…you know..get prepped?” you say, coughing around the word.

Beomgyu snorts, “You just did the most virgin thing ever oh my god.”

“That’s why I don’t believe a single thing coming out of her mouth.”

“I’m not a virgin.” you say for the umpteenth time. When they both exchange silent looks, you clear your throat. “But, I might be a little…inexperienced. That’s it though, I’m not a virgin. I’ve had sex…like twice.”

Beomgyu shoots up, making you jump in shock. “Twice?!” he shouts. He looks at you like you might’ve just led the saddest life of the entirety of human history.“And three boyfriends? The math isn’t…”

“Well one of them believed pre-marital sex would have us damned so—”

“Oh yeahh, your Christian boy Mark.” Yeonjun marvels. “That guy was a total bitch.”

Yeah, Mark. The guy you thought you’d end up marrying someday, until he decided to cheat with an anal whore as you call it. Cheating on you in broad daylight, in the apartment you shared wasn’t enough, he tried to mansplain the difference between anal virginity and vaginal virginity right after he was caught.

You shudder remembering the scene.

“A little unrelated but I always sort of thought you guys fucked.” Beomgyu starts, breaking the silence. “Like at least once.”

You sigh, he’s never letting this sexual tension bullshit thing go. If anything, Yeonjun probably saw you in the least sexual light possible. Unfortunately. “No. No we haven’t Beomgyu, we keep telling you this.”

“You” He points a finger at you, “Keep telling me this. Not him. That’s suspicious.”

Yeonjun doesn’t say anything even as both you and Beomgyu stare at him— he just mixes his soju and beer together for another shot.

You relent, speaking up. “Yeonjun tell him we haven’t fucked so he can stop insinuating that we’re freaks behind closed doors 24/7.”

Beomgyu snickers at that, still toying with the fabric of your shorts. You think it’s just out of habit.

“Yeah, we haven’t.” Yeonjun finally confirms.

You widen your eyes at Beomgyu to taunt him, getting all up on his face, nonverbally celebrating an I told you so. He just rolls his eyes at you, a dumb smile on his face.

“But I want to.”

…What.

That has both you and Beomgyu frozen, his smile slowly dropping before he turns to face Yeonjun.

Your mind works overtime trying to process whether you heard that right, did it have any hints of a joke, why couldn’t you pick up on it then? Or whether all your life you’ve read it all wrong—is it the drinks speaking or? But drunk words are sober thoughts…right? Is he just-

“Huh?” Beomgyu’s the one to ask for a clarification first.

He only shrugs, proving that none of you heard him wrong. “I wanna fuck her. I mean, you’re hot I’m not being unreasonable.”

You don’t know how to respond without sounding like an even more awkward virgin, so you stay silent, trying to make sense of it in your own head. But when you catch Beomgyu slowly nodding from your peripheral vision like what Yeonjun’s saying makes sense, you painfully nudge him.

He whines, defending himself almost immediately. “What? He’s not wrong, you’re mega hot now.”

You squeeze your eyes shut irritated, “Don’t—god, don’t ever say ‘mega hot’ again.”

Beomgyu mumbles something intelligible, something that sounded like one of his sulky protests that you just ignore as the room falls silent again. Yeonjun seems completely unbothered of the atmosphere, drinking his somaek like this was just another normal day, like he didn’t just air out something that could potentially completely flip your entire dynamic.

The tension is thick, and it suddenly feels way too hot to be here anymore but then Beomgyu speaks up again. “Do you know how to suck a dick?”

You snort, not answering as you keep your eyes on the floor.

But it’s impossible to ignore him when he keeps staring at you, almost too intensely for a question you thought was to break the tension. You look to his face, and there’s no sign of lightheartedness anywhere. He was seriously asking. “So? Do you?”

You decide to humor him, anything to get over this suffocating silence. “Sort of.”

Yeonjun chuckles, “What does ‘sort of’ mean?”

You roll your eyes, frankly irritated that he’s even speaking right now. “Sort of means I can, but I don’t know if I’m …good at it.”

He hums in understanding, nodding. “Wanna test your skills out right now?”

Your eyes bulge out, blinking rapidly as you look at Yeonjun in shock. Did he seriously just…say that? Your face grows even hotter as you stutter around a response.

But before you could even form a proper response, Beomgyu says something first, whining into his hands. “I literally cannot be the only one really fucking turned on right now.”

At his words, your eyes instinctively look down to his pants and god, he wasn’t kidding. You don’t know how you haven’t noticed until now, but the imprint of his dick building a tent in his sweatpants has you looking away like you’ve just seen the most sinful thing ever. You don’t miss the small patch of wetness at the top either. You rub your thighs together again, this time you curse your body for reacting because most of their attention was collectively on you now.

Meaning, they would inevitably notice small details.

And that they did. Yeonjun laughs, but it has laces of mean-spiritedness that has your brain frying at a faster speed. “You aren’t the only one. Our little dolls’ horny as shit too, aren’t you? Look at you rubbing your thighs for just the little bits of friction.” Yeonjun says the last part with a pout, so condescendingly, his eyes heavy lidded with what you’re sure is lust.

That gets Beomgyu’s attention, who was lost in his own dilemma, who’s close enough to touch you, to do something, and that has you more nervous than the time you had to present an unfinished slideshow to the harshest professor in your major.

Your throat is dry again, and you can’t seem to get out a word no matter how hard you try. Beomgyu licks his lips momentarily, staring at you, waiting for something, maybe a cue? You don’t know, but they’re both definitely waiting.

Beomgyu’s impatient, and shameless, if that wasn’t already obvious enough. With a rasp to his voice, he whispers, “God, I really wanna touch you right now.”

And you whisper back, like this was secret gossip you’d exchange between yourselves at recess about who was mean to who, who liked who, except this time you’re all grown up, and he’s asking to…touch you. You look behind Beomgyu, Yeonjun very much invested in what’s happening makes you on the fence. “But it’ll—it’ll get…weird. Like, between us.”

Beomgyu’s quick to counter. “No, no it won’t, I promise. Everything’s going to be the exact same. Just baby, please. Let me take care of you.”

The use of a petname again has you biting down on your lips. You search his eyes, and he looks so…desperate, the sudden switch baffling to you, so different from how you usually see him. Is this how he gets with the girls he fucks? It’s so hot, you’ve never been met with this much enthusiasm.

Your feelings heighten even more when he whispers again at your silence, “Please, I’m dying here.”

You let out a breath you were holding in, nodding, “Okay, it’s—it’s okay. You can. Touch me I mean.”

This is the absolute last thing in the world you’d ever expected, like ever. Beomgyu touching you, ministrating your breasts roughly with his big hands through your top, kneeling between your legs, kissing all over from your jaw to your neck like he hasn’t gotten action in decades. It’s like everywhere, your skin scorches, every inch—and he’s so fiery, so harsh with his squeezes and bites that you’re so unprepared for, so unprepared in fact that your eyes already brim with tears, head becoming light with too much stimulation in too little time as you feel him play with your shorts in attempt to take them off.

Suddenly, Beomgyu’s shoved off you completely, having him fall on his ass with a thud. Your eyes fly open in worry, only to be met with Yeonjun way closer to you than earlier. “Dude, calm down you’re going too fast.”

Beomgyu rolls his eyes irritably, “You know you could’ve told me that without fucking throwing me off her, right?”

“Like your ass would listen.” Yeonjun mutters, refocusing his attention to you, “Come on, get up on the couch doll, I’ll show you how its done.”

You’re hesitant. You’re okay with messing around with Beomgyu—you are because he’s the best friend that you have zero romantic feelings for, but Yeonjun? You already have this…tiny crush on him that has been fostering since the dawn of times, a light lit then dimmed for years throughout the time you’ve known him…would this not set it on a full blown out fire? Are you ready to risk getting your rocks off to find out?

Yeonjun calls your name again, snapping you out of your reverie. “If you don’t want to I’m not gonna…”

“No no, um—sorry I was just, like, thinking. Sure.” you choke out, cheeks red.

Fuck it.

You situate yourself on the couch like he instructed, looking at Beomgyu for a second in semi-panic, but that horndogs too far gone to properly communicate with you through telepathy so you’re left a puddle, a little jittery as you nervously pick at the thread of the old couch, preparing yourself for whats to come.

Yeonjun smiles, slotting himself between your legs. “I’m gonna take it slow, ‘kay? Tell me if it becomes too much and I’ll stop.”

You nod, taking a deep breath then out to calm your nerves. You don’t have to help him out with pulling your shorts down, it’s like he’s so experienced that he knows how to get around it without you doing much. Which doesn’t help to make you relax…at all. He’s experienced, and you’re not. That’s a cause of a million worries running through your mind at the moment.

The air that had felt so hot earlier, feels cool now, and you shudder a little. “You’re drenched doll, that’s cute.”

Beomgyu finally sits himself next to you, hand on his crotch, slowly rubbing it out as he stares at what Yeonjun sees, craning his neck to get a good look. And you feel…so exposed, it makes your ears red with a mix of shame and arousal as you squeeze your eyes shut.

You jolt a little when you feel his tongue poking at your entrance through your panties—he’s slow as he licks up your slit, soaking your underwear more and more.

“Any of your boyfriends ever eat you out?” Beomgyu asks, hand squeezing his cock through his sweats, before having the genius idea of replacing his with yours—his warm hands resting on yours, guiding you to press down harder on his boner. As if he’s showing you—making you feel how big he is.

You shake your head to his question, and he airs out a chuckle. God, you really want to slap yourself for finding that so attractive. “Of course. Might as well be a real virgin.”

You want to retort back, you really do, because god forbid Beomgyu have the last word, but it's impossible when Yeonjun hooks his finger to push your underwear to the side because you're a goner, a goner the minute you feel his warm breath on your skin, and even worse when you feel his tongue lapping at your core, the direct contact making you gasp out a moan, jolting you awake, clearing your drunk daze.

"Yeonjun, Yeonjun shit-" you don't mean to tighten your grip on Beomgyu, but you do in response to Yeonjuns stimulation which has him hiss, bucking into your touch.

"Do that again. Harder. Touch me baby, yeah, just like that." He babbles, holding onto your wrist, groaning when you oblige, wrapping your hand on his clothed shaft and squeezing the base.

Yeonjun looks at you through lidded eyes, his hands firmly keeping your legs apart, nose brushing against your clit every so often to tease before he finally decides to flatten his tongue against it, finger prodding at your entrance at the same time, making you inexpectantly arch your back, moaning. "F-fuck Jjun!"

You could feel the smirk, the cockiness radiating off him— it oozes even, it's so evident he likes this dynamic, you so reactionary to each little thing he does.

Beomgyu helps you palm his dick before he finally relents, too horny out of his mind, shoving your hand down his pants, making you feel his hot dick, so sticky and wet, it's lewd. "'Move your hand baby, c'monnn. Good girl." He groans, trying to guide you to a speed he finds fitting.

You start getting the hang of it, your hand jerking off his dick without help even as you're practically dumbed out with Yeonjun's tongue working at your sex, trying to purposefully make you lose your mind.

“Pussy so good doll, so good.” his words muffle against your core and it sends a vibration that has your pace falter.

Suddenly, Yeonjun detaches, making you feel terribly empty, and horrible because you were sure you were close. Before you could complain, your eyes widen at him unbuttoning his jeans, dropping them to the floor to have his cock flinging out of his boxers. He gives it a couple strokes, breathing heavy as he stares at your pussy. Wet with his spit, messy. He groans, biting his lips raw and you’ve just never felt so much as a prey until now. “Gonna fill you up soon, don’t worry doll.”

“Pay attention to me too,” Beomgyu whines, kissing your neck again, the space under your earlobe, his teeth grazing against your skin, just begging to have your attention. “Unfair if it’s only him.” he breathes, kissing and kissing and kissing, until he decides to move up to your lips, taking you up a wind as you jerk his dick off faster.

His whines and mewls melt into the sloppiness of the kiss and god is it the hottest thing ever, shit.

Yeonjun basically breaks the kiss by pushing Beomgyu off of you again, and if you had half the mind to think, you would’ve caught the irritation radiating off Beomgyu at Yeonjuns constant cock blocking.

You can’t think now, not when Yeonjun’s lining his dick up with your hole, feeling his hot tip prodding and your pussy fluttering around nothing to suck him in. “Ready? Relax yourself so it’ll feel good, ‘kay?”

You nod, humming.

“Words princess.”

“I’m—I’m ready Jjunie.”

He gives you a crooked grin, fingertips digging into the plush of your hips.

You try, you really do, you try giving them both an experience but the more Yeonjun pushes himself in you, the slower your hand becomes until you finally let go, breathing heavy at the inexplicable feeling of just…fullness. When he’s flush and snug against your core, completely inside you, he relishes, he stays there, eyes fluttering closed with his face so, so close to yours.

And he whispers to you, words Beomgyu can’t possible hear even if he wishes to, and even words you could’ve missed if you weren’t so in tune with every single sense that you’re feeling right now.

“Wish he wasn’t here when I could finally have you.”

You’re driven over the edge, not even given the time to process, before he’s drilling his dick into you—in then back, slowly before he’s building up to snapping his hips, having you gasp in shock at each thrust. You let the stray tear run down, hell, at this point you’re giving all autonomy of your body to the two boys right now, you’re not in control of anything anymore.

“Tight, so tight and warm,” he groans, getting faster, “Shoulda prepped you more, huh? Fuckin’ tighter than a virgin, can barely move.” He laughs breathy.

You just nod, nod at whatever filthy shit he says, tightening your grip on the couch, squeezing your eyes shut at how the pain just bleeds into the pleasure. You’ve never had it like this with your past boyfriends, it never felt like this.

Suddenly, you feel something hot poking at your cheek which spurs you to open your eyes. Your eyes damn near almost bulge out at Beomgyu’s size, cock insistently trying to move past your lips.

“Want your mouth, please, fuck.”

Can you even take that in your mouth?

He doesn’t wait for your contemplation, that’s not Beomgyu’s thing. He does it anyway, managing to slide his dick in your mouth, not even letting you get used to it like Yeonjun had even when he’s a lot bigger, pushing all the way in. He throws his head back, groaning curses as you gag around his length, breathing restricted.

“God you’re so hot like this, princess. Taking my cock so well,” he growls, moving his hips to fuck your mouth. Your eyes water, burning as the taste of him overpowers your senses— all of that paired with Yeonjun’s rhythm getting rougher and more frantic has you lose yourself in ecstasy you don’t think you can handle.

You think you might just faint.

“Have you always been like this? So good at sucking cock, slutty throat just waiting to be stuffed with dick?” Beomgyu rambles filth, losing himself faster than Yeonjun, looking down at you with so much hunger. You return his gaze, blinking up at him innocently, as if to disagree. You’re not slutty, you aren’t.

But that seems to spur him on a completely different direction, like something snapped inside him, cursing loudly as he ruthlessly starts fucking into your mouth. Your mind clouds, dizziness setting in as you feel Yeonjun attach his lips to your nipple through your flimsy top, sucking harshly, making a mess of your shirt with his spit.

You garble around Beomgyu’s dick, trying to say something but it only comes out intelligible and like complete nonsense, it’s humiliating.

“God, you’re sucking me in so greedily, want me to fill you up with my cum so bad, huh?”

Yeonjun slaps your ass and you jolt again, snot and mascara running down your face. He starts kneeding your cheeks, snapping into you rougher, and somehow deeper, you fucking lose it. “You want it so bad, right? Say something baby, or I won’t give it to you.”

You nod, mouth still stuffed with Beomgyu’s cock, who he isn’t intent on stopping any time soon.

It’s enough for Yeonjun you guess because before you know it, you feel hot substance shoot up, filling you to the brim with his cum, still pumping it in even as your orgasm washes over you. You’re beyond overstimulated, especially when Beomgyu cums around the same time, his hot load forcing its way down your throat.

He holds your head against his abdomen, groaning the more he defills you. “Fuck if you do that I might just fall for you,” he growls, voice down octaves, fixating his eyes on how your throat gulps down his cum like it’s water at the Sahara. The taste is so strong, you start coughing up some of it out when his dick flops out of your mouth sticky, finally regaining your breath, gasping for air in large amounts, your cunt spilling Yeonjun’s seed onto the couch slowly, dribbling down to the floor to make a mess.

Beomgyu suddenly pushes Yeonjun out of the way to slot himself between your legs, kissing at your pussy.

“Beomgyu, don’t, can’t—stop, too much-” you try reasoning but he doesn’t listen, that brat. He just starts going at it, lapping at the cum spilling, his lips glistening with the wetness, alternating between kissing and licking your cunt. “‘Course you can baby, you can take it.”

You bite down hard on your lips, lightheaded as you look down at the man ravaging your pussy and cleaning you up at the same time.

To hell with that ‘nothing’s going to change’ bullshit promise, something definitely changed tonight and you can’t put your finger around what.

[greyskyflowers]

I really really really wish that Edwin had stay all bloody and filthy when he and Charles came back from hell.

Blood feels weird. It's got a weird.. texture? Consistency? Idk. Anyway, if I was in a dark room and someone said can you guess if it's water or blood on your hand? I would probably be able to tell by feeling it. As it dries it gets a sticky tar feeling and personally, it makes me itch when it dries.

Not to mention the smell and taste of it.

It's unpleasant.

Listen, I had a lot of nose bleeds when I was little, like my parents took me to prompt care because there was so much blood and it'd go on for like a hour straight heavy nose bleeds. I was also played a bunch of sports and was outside a lot so lots of experience with blood.

I think Edwin would absolutely hate the feel of blood on him. Now, ghosts may not be able to feel it like the living would, but I feel like it would still feel weird on them. Maybe like when you walk through a spider web and it's just that almost unnoticeable wispy tug on your skin?

I feel like Charles wouldn't mind it. In a way, he's probably used to it.

And he's the brawn so like of course he's cool with blood, greysky. Where are you going with this?

I think there's a specific intimacy with cleaning someone up.

They're familiar with cleaning blood off each other, although never to this extent and usually it's Charles getting clean up instead of Edwin. He finds he doesn't quite like the role reversal.

So what if...

Edwin came back from hell still bloody and filthy, hands sliding on the floor when he tries to brace himself to get up, looking at Charles with huge, terrified eyes.

A unspoken I don't know what to do is this real please help me what do I do what if it never comes off Charles please

And Charles doesn't even hesitate. He's on his feet and helping Edwin up in seconds.

He ignores the way the blood is making his own skin sticky and probably getting all over his clothes. Instead he notices how in the light he can see there's faint lines running down Edwin's cheeks that don't seem as filthy as the rest of him, how he's still barefoot and it makes him a little shorter than he usually is, how he's grabbing back at Charles a little desperately and is doing everything he can to keep him close.

They could feel each other down in Hell. Charles could feel how cold Edwin's fingers were and his own skin had broken out in goosebumps. Leaving seems to have returned them to normal but there's a little extra sensitivity, a little extra rawness, to his skin.

So he makes sure the water is warm, because he doesn't know if Edwin's skin feels the same way and taking a chance by cleaning him up with cold water feels cruel.

It doesn't stop the shaking though.

And the water swirls down the drain in shades of black, red, and pink.

One of the girls leaves a few big towels by the door and Charles brings them in by opening the door just enough to squeeze them through. He's not ready to let the real world in yet.

Edwin sits there, all wrapped up in a big, fluffy towel and looking lost in the quiet of a bathroom that still smells like mud and rust, like he's still not sure he's really there.

Charles takes a smaller towel to his hair, dries it until it's all messy and Edwin looks so young in the florescent lights as he blinks up at him. The shadows under his eyes seem worse without the filth covering them.

Charles cleans himself up too because the idea of getting blood on Edwin now makes him want to throw up. Edwin sits in the same spot and stares off into space in a way that makes him keep the shower curtain half open to watch him.

It feels like the world has narrowed down to just them. The mirror is still fogged up from the steam and it's quiet except for the occasional drip from the faucet.

There's a dampness in the air as they sit there next to each other, but it's nothing like the heavy humidity that seemed to linger in those hallways where he found Edwin.

They sit there on the floor, wrapped up in damp towels, backs to the door and they stare at the wall. Edwin tilts his head just enough to cautiously rest in on Charles's shoulder, like he's still scared this will turn out to be a trick, and Charles finally let's out the breath he's been holding in since Edwin was taken.

💧💧💧

I don't know. The vulnerability and intimacy of cleaning someone up, taking care of them like that, it always gets me. 😢

[k0yaz]

UGGHHHH hear me out on toxic Yuri with acheron or Topaz like for Topaz it might be a little hard to see but basically she entered the IPC for her own survival. in a voiceline she said "my survival mattered more than my freedom" and as sad as that sounds, imagine her sweetheart (non binary idk preferably female) is back on her planet and her family was killed by the IPC and she can't stand the sight of Topaz anymore because in their eyes Topaz is a traitor for joining the IPC and they're this sad gay couple anyone would cry and throw up at the sight of like this big sloppy mess.

For acheron, I think we can have like acheron travelling and reader crashing into her no matter whag planet who are at each other's throats all the time (one-sided because Ion think acheron would gaf) but reader hates acheron and acheron doesn't go slicey slicey on reader because she wants to keep them around. idk maybe she gets amusement seeing their hateful eyes.

This isn't even toxic Yuri but I BEG YOU WHAHHWHWHHA

ignore this if your uncomfortable lol

I can’t.

Pairing(s): acheron x fem!reader

CW: mostly js hating and stuff, potential hate love relationship idk im just bullshitting warnings to fill this space, oh and Acheron lowkey scares reader by almost going slicey slicey but she doesn’t even notice it lol

A/N: someone get her google maps anyway I love acheron sm swawswwjsjsjs

Your muscles tensed up as a familiar face entered your view, her deadpan eyes locking onto you the moment she saw you. Using your free hand, you drew your hand to your eyes, attempting to shield the side of your head and avert your gaze from the Galaxy Ranger.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

The woman you despise deeply, the one you couldn’t escape no matter where you went.

Who else would it be? None other than Acheron herself.

Without hesitation, you found yourself furiously making your way to her, and your face scrunched up at the sight of her. Acheron stared back at you, her gaze hollow and emotionless as if she was waiting for you to say something. God. That stupid, unfeeling look ticked you off so damn much.

“What the hell are you doing here? Did you get lost looking for your hotel room again?”

You snapped at her, face flushed from how irritated you were upon seeing her again.

Acheron only let out a sigh in response, closing her eyes briefly before resting a hand on her hip.

“I was just minding my own business. I don’t understand what got you so irritated. Do you seriously hate me so much that you have to yell at me when you see me?”

Her tone was nonchalant and insouciant, which pissed you off even more. Why wasn’t she bothered at all? Why wasn’t she matching your energy and at your throat too? The fact that she didn’t exactly care about how much you hated her just made your blood boil, it made you feel so small and petty every damn time. Without thinking, you spat at her again, this time your words more harsh as if they had been laced with poison.

“Well why do you have to be everywhere, huh?! Every time I hope to get away from you I can’t! So why? Are you following me or some shit?!” you almost near yelled, brows furrowing and your eyelids lowering slightly.

You slam a fist onto Acheron’s shoulder, jabbing it slightly as you stare down.

You shouldn’t haves done that.

Your eyes widened, and you felt your stomach tighten as your breath caught in your throat. Your eyes trailed down to the end of her hair, heart pounding in your chest from fear as you saw a small fade of white at the tips.

It was barely there, almost not at all, yet you saw it. No doubt.

That alone made you remember, no matter how much you hated her, she was still an emanator of nihility. She could slice you apart and turn you into nothing but a memory if she wanted to.

However when you looked up, you ended up jumping back and away a good 4 feet from her stunned at what you saw.

Was Acheron- smiling a bit?

Your scornful gaze was still glued to your face as you stared her down, confused as to why she smiled for a moment and why she didn’t just kill you on the spot.

“I don’t hate you, hope you know that. But it’s…slightly entertaining to see your expression.”

She paused, taking a moment to think up of something else she wanted to say.

“And I’d prefer to keep you around, honestly.”

Acheron remarked, turning her back to you as she walked away and out of your sight. You still stared off into the distance with a puzzled expression, before running your hand through your hair and closing your eyes.

What- just happened?

traitor.

Pairing(s): topaz x fem!reader

CW: tragic lovers obviously, reader losing her shit, topaz gets fucking slapped lol idk what else to put here I hope yall know on sfw works there’s usually no warnings, um screaming crying throwing up idk gay ppl wowowow

A/N: meowmoew

“I’m sorry I-“

“stop. Just…stop. Okay..?”

You snapped, bringing your hand to crease your forehead and lowering your fingers down to the bridge of your nose near the corners of your eyes. Topaz could only stare back at you with a dejected expression while averting her gaze shamefully.

“It was for my survival…my love, please. I didn’t mean-“

You cut her off again, fighting back the tears that pricked at the corner of your eyes. You choked back a sob as you spoke in a pained voice.

“And yet you still joined the IPC? Did you even think to consider how I would feel?”

A quiet sob escaped your lips as your breath hitched and got in your throat. Within moments tears were flowing down your face, crying uncontrollably with your teeth pressed together and small hiccups spilling out as you buried your face into your hands.

“…you didn’t have to see the bodies of your family, knowing that your lover is the reason for it.”

Topaz could only watch, heartbroken by your sorrow—and it was all because of her. She reached out, attempting to place a hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t touch me! You fucking traitor!”

You yelled, breathing heavily from your sobbing, along with your nose being tinted red and the dried tear cracks down your face being run over by new tears.

Your hands balled up into fists as Topaz stared down at the ground shamefully, dragging her bottom lip between her teeth as to not cry herself.

“(Name). Please. Let me explain.”

She breathed out, trying to keep her own composure. She stepped forward, placing her hands on either side of your head, her thumb brushing along your cheek.

“You have to understand…my survival mattered more than my freedom-“

A slap echoed throughout the vicinity all of a sudden. Topaz stumbled back, the hand that was placed on your cheek now shifted over to her own, grasping her reddening skin. Her eyes widened for several seconds as she processed what happened, breathing quickening slightly. Her own beloved just slapped her.

It was obvious now. You didn’t want anything to do with her anymore.

Topaz quickly recovered from the slap and sighed, her cheek still a blistering red. She stepped forward, cupping your face again and placing her forehead against yours. She grasped your head firmly, fingers tightening as she tried fighting back her own tears.

“I get it. I’m a traitor. But I’m not a traitor when it comes to us, just know that before you go. I still love you.”

She sighed, pressing herself against you more until your noses were touching, and closing her eyes. You could only gasp from the sobs clawing at your throat in response, barely able to form a coherent sentence until Topaz walked away.

You fell to your knees when she was gone, being able to do nothing but cry. And just like that. The love of your life was gone. You wanted nothing to do with her. The pangs of regret ate away at you as you wanted nothing more than to just forgive her and lay in her arms as you mourned your family.

You still loved her. So much.

But you just couldn’t.

You couldn’t be with a traitor.

A/N: AGAGAGAGSGA UR AN ANGEL FOR SEEING MY POST COMPLAINING ABOUT NOT GETTING WLW OR HSR RAHAHAHAHBDBDBDBD

anyway I have my final tomorrow goodbye yall I’m going back to the dead

@qwnelisa

[stupidlittlespirit]

Hey this was the anon who said you made Ford a cutie patootie 🥺🥺

I really agree with the whole 'bill and Ford were never romantic' vibe. I do believe Ford cared for Bill in a way, but Bill in general is also the abusive partner that enjoys having you in his arms and the moment you try to leave will make your life a living hell.

I think that's honestly why I hate most asshole!Ford fics lately. Except for your of course! Society really sees abuses victims horribly and especially men. Theres a pretty big part of the Fandom that vilifies Ford in a hateful way. Like I know he's done horrible and yes he treated Stanley and Fiddleford bad. But I wouldn't be surprised if his father never brought up Stanley after he kicked out, and expected his wife and Ford to follow. He if he did it was only negative talk on how useless he was. Ford was a child at the time and as he grew up he probably missed Stanley but was too prideful to pick up the phone first. And then he met Bill.

Someone who praised him and told him he was in the right no matter what. Yes he was awful to Fiddleford. But that's what abusers do. They tear down everyone else who can help you until it's only the two of you against the entire world. And honestly, I'm sorry but Fiddleford needs to get some hate for just leaving Standford like that. Being a friend to someone in an abusive relationship is awful. But if you know that they don't have anyone else, you have to put boundaries, you don't just leave! But I also can't blame Fiddleford all the way.

Idk idk I'm sorry for rambling, but honestly I think that's why most of the fanfic writers who write about Ford really forget that he was so horrifically abused and when as he got older all he felt was shame and he was alone for 30 years with that feeling.

First of all, sorry it took me so long to answer this! My PC is fucked and I needed to sit my ass down and type out a proper answer for you because I have so many feelings on this, anon.

This is all below a cut because it's looooong.

tl;dr if you don't care: Bill put a noose around Ford's neck the moment they met and convinced him it was a scarf until Ford was hanging from the rafters, feet twitching, face blue.

TW: Abuse, suicide.

Anyway, the kitchen is open so let's cook!

Bill is an absolutely horrific being.

I fear that sometimes (oftentimes) he gets the fandom woobification treatment where he becomes entirely The Meme or somebody's silly widdle guy and when it happens so much, especially when certain groups of people are hellbent on saying 'this is canon!' dead seriously, it warps perceptions around him.

He effectively manipulates his audience just as he manipulated Dipper and Ford.

Bill is a demon. Not just any old demon, either: The Demon. THE guy. He's vicious and powerful and manipulative, and sure in TboB we get to see that he carries some significant trauma with him but it doesn't mean he is any less than what he is: Evil.

Some trauma influenced behaviours can be explained, but they can never be excused.

Bill is a push-pull, hot-cold, jerk around asshole who gets off on hurting people because he's so badly hurt himself that it makes him feel good to see others suffer even a fraction of what he experiences. There are two types of people who go through trauma: 1. It happened to me and I was nearly destroyed, I'll never see it happen to another person for so long as I live. OR 2. I suffered so why shouldn't they?

It's pretty clear which category Bill fits into, right? So, while he hurts because he's hurting, he has also just grown accustomed to enjoying the suffering of others. It's sustenance to him.

I remember watching GF for the first time and seeing Bipper, and it awoke something within me: That demon is torturing a child. A CHILD. I hadn't been allowed to watch horror movies much as a kid and seeing this line be crossed where something was literally throwing a 12 year old boy down the stairs, stabbing him with forks, threatening to kill him, was incredible to me. I was floored.

Partially because I think it's good to show kids suffering trauma; they're not immune and they're more often than not the main victims. It's a disservice to make adults comfortable by protecting the children in media imo. Even nowadays I'm pissed off when the child character escapes unscathed from the 'all knowing totally evil demonic force' in a movie because I still crave that rawness and cruelty I saw in Bipper when I was younger.

But I digress. It's also because here was a being so nasty that he'd play GTA 5 in a kid's body just for funsies and to get something that he wants. He'd bully and torture and tease and humiliate. That's rough, man. Real rough. Especially knowing the kid was watching it all happen, completely helpless.

Anyway; Bill memes are fun, but not at the cost of forgetting just what Bill actually is.

When it comes to Ford, Bill does the same thing we saw with Dipper, except Dipper has morals. Dipper has love and light and people to keep him grounded.

Ford had none of that. Ford was abused, just like Stan (though I could go on for hours about the differences), and grew up equating love to success and respect to fear. He was set up for social failure. He was put on a very different track to his peers almost immediately and he was isolated from everyone bar Stan from the moment he was born. Stan grounded Ford and kept him human.

Ford had no chance right from the start. The equation of being smart, knowing you're smart, and then having people Grima Wormtongue in your ear your whole childhood, when you're most malleable, that you're responsible for lifting your family out of poverty, you're the Good Son, you're meant for more, you're the one we love the most but only because you serve a purpose so you better not fail or we'll snatch everything away from you and you'll be just like your purposeless brother.... And you don't want to be like your loser brother who we hate, do you Fordsy?

He doesn't start lost in the sauce, but his head is held under until he has no choice but to breathe it in, and when someone is drowning it's hard to tell from the shore if they're having fun or if they're in trouble. Nobody noticed his distress and if they did, they didn't care. He was vulnerable right from the start.

And you're right about people hating male abuse victims. The stats are really skewed on the amount because there's such shame around coming out about it as a guy that we'll never really know just how prolific it is. The same as sexual assault stats for men. But what I can say is almost every male friend I've ever had has told me about a partner of theirs or an old relationship that is just plain old black and white abusive. Most of the time, they shrug it off or don't even know that's what they suffered, and if I have to watch the light change in another man's eyes when I gently tell him "hey, you know that what you're telling me is that he/she abused you, right?" then I'm going to scream. They're looked down on for coming out about it; considered weak and less manly for it. Humiliated for it.

Now imagine how it was when Ford was a boy in the 40's (or whenever he was born, there are no solid dates afaik). He'll have been raised to believe men are strong and that they don't cry, they don't let people push them around, mental illness isn't real you're just pathetic. It's everything I just mentioned but 1000x more intense. Nowadays, men are laughed at. Back then, you'd be ostracised and made the joke of the town until you killed yourself.

So poor old Ford, who is already on the back foot, ends up suffering for his genius and throwing himself into his work when it becomes apparent to him that he 'has no other uses' as a person. He isn't funny, he isn't handsome, he's a freak, he can't hold conversations (all his opinions and from others) etc etc. All he has is his research and his brain.

He loses himself in it. In his excitement (which is innocent and genuine by the way, I don't believe he had bad intentions), he drags his best friend along (and we'll get to Fidds in a minute, I have a lotta thoughts on him too) and ignores other people's distress because he's having fun and 'doing the right thing' in his opinion, he's driving innovation and he's always been told by other, more prestigious people that he's justified in his cause.

His father probably enforced at a young age that people that get in his way are just trying to hold him back (ie. Stan), so; If the hillbillies in this damn town don't have the IQ to understand me, then they're idiots. It couldn't possibly be that I might be encroaching on their lives or causing them problems and getting in their way whilst they try to work as labourers or whatever, it's because they're wrong and I'm right.

And of course, there were times when Ford didn't really actually do anything wrong and was met with animosity, but he didn't have the social skills to diffuse the situation and explain himself in layman terms, so it fed into this Ouroboros of try to be nice and social - fail - create friction - get lost in research - create friction - try to be social - fail etc.

So he's not getting socialisation from others, he's pushing Fiddleford as hard as he can and Fiddleford understandably has other interests to balance which makes him slowly seem less invested, and then, conveniently, up pops Bill.

Bill, who agrees with everything Ford says. Bill, who justifies all the thoughts and feelings Ford has ever had. Bill, who tells Ford everything he's ever wanted to hear from his father and his peers and his brother and his wildest dreams.

Bill, who knows how isolation and flattery works to weaken prey.

You have to admit: Bill's work was impressive. He spent a year, maybe even longer, committing to the bit over Ford. Giving him everything he wanted, feeding his ego, making it seem like all he was doing was helping him and encouraging him and propping him up.

Ford had had a weak form of that before from other people, but those people were parasites. Bill presented as the host and he offered Ford a crutch for the first time in his life. A friend, an equal, possibly someone of even higher standing.

And Ford, who has NO social skills, no street smarts, no emotional awareness, had no idea that nothing comes for free from somebody like Bill, so he jumped into the shallow pool from the 100 meter board with both feet down, eyes shut and hands off the wheel. Ford was desperate for someone to meet him on his level and the moment somebody did, he let himself be swept away by it.

Which, of course, was Bill's plan all along. Bill had probably always been around Ford when he'd first come to Gravity Falls. He'd been watching and waiting for the right time to strike, as ambush predators do, and the moment Ford had stumbled on a metaphorical crack in the path and exposed a weak spot, up pops Bill to hold his hand and tell him that the pavement was in the wrong the whole time and really, Ford shouldn't have to look where he's putting his feet, the whole world should just move for him instead.

From there, it would have been easy.

I think Ford likes to think he's complex and hard to read, and he probably is to people who don't recognise his type, but he's a fucking picture book to the people that do. That's why he works so hard to make himself seem cool and mysterious: because he's really obviously none of those things but simple smoke and mirrors go a long way to confuse people who don't care to look any deeper or are too naïve to do so. If people see the real him, they'd laugh at him (in his opinion).

So Bill, with all his flattery and gassing up, would have let Ford think the ball was in his court for a while, and Ford, emboldened by lies and a literal god-like being telling him he was right (plus everyone else from his past telling him the same thing), got bolder and more intense and lost himself without even really realising it was happening.

Ford, in his enthusiasm, pressed on Fidds even harder and was disappointed that the only man he cared about (other than his brother, because we know he still loved Stan dearly) wasn't able to match his stride. After all, I think Ford probably thought Fidds was the closest thing to an equal he'd ever had, and Bill used Fidds' hesitation to push Ford further away from him.

Once Ford was fully blinded, Bill began to cut off the blood to the other parts of Ford's lifeforce (and there weren't many to begin with) with delicate expertise that even the most prolific of abusers would die to achieve.

And don't forget that Bill also loves attention (he's a genuine egotistical maniac, whereas I don't think Ford is inherently egotistical, I think he's a product of his environment) and Ford gave him that unconditionally because Ford thought that blind worship equates to love, which is only possible through fear and forced, submissive respect. By cutting off Ford's other connections, Bill got all the attention to himself.

That's where the fun part started for Bill. Bill started to make him second guess himself. He tricked him under the guise of helping and then, without Fidds to ground him, Ford bought into all of it. He told Ford the townsfolk hated him because he was better than them, he told Ford he was too good for everyone else, his brother, etc. Bill effectively became Filbrick's voice in Ford's head. He needed to control Ford.

People think 'seduction' is inherently sexual or romantic, but it isn't. Seduction is manipulation in its purest form. Seduction is negative. It is used to pull people away from their path in order to convince them to give up or go against the part of themselves that knows better. It lowers one's guard. It gets under someone's skin and convinces them it belongs there. I've been a sex worker for 10 years; trust me when I tell you I have a PhD in both doing this and being victim to it. (I'm also an abuse survivor and my abusers trained me well in this which is hard to unlearn at times.)

Bill seduced Ford into thinking he was safe and in control right up until the last moment when Bill could strike. He put a noose around Ford's neck the moment they met and convinced him it was a scarf until Ford was hanging from the rafters, feet twitching, face blue.

Ford was never in love with him and Bill wasn't with Ford. You can't be in a situation like that. Ford respected Bill and to command the respect of someone like Ford? Well, you'd have to be pretty special, in Ford's opinion.

Bill only wanted to possess Ford, literally and figuratively. He wanted something to control and use and keep as a pet while he got what he wanted. Every king needs a jester.

There are signs that Bill also, deep down, might have wanted a friend and to be understood in the same way Ford did, but it was a small part of him that came second to his desire to hurt. Bill was also an outcast and he knew how vulnerable that makes a person; why else are all his henchmaniacs outcasts too? Because it's easy to persuade a person with no support into a perceived 'found family' than it is to do it to someone who is grounded by love. It becomes a game of in-group out-group.

Ford saying no to Bill would have taken great strength after all that time and as soon as Bill doesn't get what he wants, he destroys. It would have been an immediate punishment and that whiplash would have been vicious.

Ford, with no real friends, would have considered Bill his bestie, effectively.

Now, idk if you've ever been betrayed by someone you love as a best friend, but it is INFINITELY more painful than a regular breakup. Like, impossibly so. Especially when you don't have many to begin with and you're already damaged by abuse.

My love for my best friends runs deeper than any romantic partner I have ever had and will ever have. To be betrayed (and for me, it was seriously significant) was the worst feeling in the world and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. I attempted suicide (conflated by other things but also because of this friend betraying me) and I will never get over their betrayal. I am wary of getting close to others now because of that and I don't think I'd ever be friends with someone so intimately again, beyond the best friend I have currently (shout out @/ghostbu, i love u).

So to experience a rug pull of astronomical proportion would have been devastating for Ford. We see Ford try to leave, try to say no again and again, literally begging, only to have his life threatened, his body violated, his work destroyed, his entire existence made into nothing. Which is a hard enough fall for someone with a big ego, but for someone who is also vulnerable and frankly, quite very emotional alongside being intelligent, would be gutting. Some people miss Ford's emotionality and reduce him to being The Smart Guy and I think that's a disservice.

So Ford was utterly ripped to shreds, both physically and emotionally, until he could only turn to the person he knew would still come running: Stan.

Stan adores his brother, so of course he came when Ford clicked his fingers. Ford, I think, also adores Stan, but is so manipulated by everybody else in his life that he convinces himself that his emotions do him a disservice and make him weak (as mentioned before about old attitudes), so he can't 'lower' himself to examine them. Bill doesn't help with that, either.

Stan came running and we all know what happened next.

Ford then spends 30 years NOT being the smartest guy in the room and realising he never really was the smartest guy in the room outside of academia. That kind of ego death is brutal and he would have gone through some incredible soul searching in that time period, which is why I think there are several versions of Ford that exist. Childhood/College!Ford, Research-era!Ford and Post portal!Ford. They all different men to me, personally.

So yeah, he's a deeply difficult character to understand imo and he's often a paradox because he doesn't know how to hold all these emotions in tandem; he's black and white, not grey.

Now, onto Fidds:

You gotta remember, Fidds had no idea what Bill was doing to his beloved friend.

Ford kept him a secret because in his view (a view manipulated by Bill), 'they'd never understand us. They'd separate us'. A common sentiment by people being abused. 'They' being really anybody with half a brain who saw how dangerous Bill was and cared about Ford.

Fidds was already absolutely terrified by the stuff he was seeing. My guy grew up on a pig farm in the country, he wasn't prepared for all this stuff to be real. Even Ford didn't know the supernatural was provably real before he came to Gravity Falls.

Now, I love cryptids but if I came across a dogman or bigfoot in real life, I'd fucking shit myself. They're scary! They'll kill you!

He also saw his best friend fucking lose his mind and that's really frightening too, especially with no one around to help.

Fidds had people that loved him back home (and I know he wasn't great to them, that's a different kettle etc) and relied on him. He had a life outside of his research; a son, a wife, a family and probably other friends. He had something to lose. If he died, it would have an effect.

Ford was cavalier because the only thing he thought he had to lose at that point was his work (not true, of course, but in head I think his life came second to his work).

Fiddleford was a victim of Ford's unintentional abuse. And Ford did abuse people, even if he was also being abused. The cycle of abuse is, unfortunately, very very real and it can't be justified just because someone who inflicts it was also a victim: Manson was abused, but no one excuses his crimes.

Explanation, not excuse, remember?

I think Ford was turned into a bad person temporarily and Fidds bore the brunt of that and went on to neglect his own family because he was also being isolated by Ford.

It's so fucking tragic and I could go on for hours about this (I already have, this took me two hours to write). They're really complex people and it does frustrate me when people pooh-pooh them as silly yaoi babies or as just plain bad people. It's never that simple.

And disclaimer: Everyone is entitled to their interpretations, obviously. They're not my characters and this is my own interpretation, so it isn't 'right', it's just how I see them as somebody who experienced similar things as Ford and Stan (minus the literal demonic element).

Whew sorry for rambling!

[eightringsofsaturn]

My pure, unadulterated thoughts while reading The Sea Makes Bones of Bodies

By: swordsmans

And no, there is no context, thank you

I love, love Nami and Zoro's relationship here, it's like a found family type of situation, and this is actually my favorite

I love how fucking gay these two are, like, holy crap

The way Luffy was introduced, holy hell

Obviously you feel that way, that's your husband!! Fish you're not, that your man

I love how Zoro, without knowing Luffy for more than a few seconds is already risking his life for that man. It's almost like he knows

Zoro's just like, "lol, don't mind meee, just potentially screwing up my uncle's very precarious alliances to help this hot fish man I've literally met a minute ago while putting my life on the linee, you know, that hot girl shit"

That's called ✨ hysteria ✨ I believe

'we're not having a crisis'

proceeds to have a crisis anyways

"and Luffy lets out the most ridiculous noise they’ve ever heard as he careens through the air in a shower of fish and stupidity."

This is actually just Luffy any day of the week

"Don't. Don't give that to your human, trust me"

I lovee territorial Luffy, oml

There's just something about the way Luffy tells Zoro that he belongs to him is just *chefs kiss*

The way he asks Zoro to be his and Zoro, who doesn't necessarily know what the hell he's getting himself into says yes right away. It's not even that he asked, but that Zoro, whether he knew it or not, was Luffy's from the very first meeting

"A healthy dose of highly entertaining bullshit"

This is usopp

Usopp is literally their 'how hard can it be' fix-it man (until they pick up Franky at least)

Dear mmlord

They did the thingggg, yk, the oh. oh. (In italics)

And I'm just sitting here kicking my feet and giggling

ThAtS yOuR hUsBaNd LiKe- SIR???

Zoro prays to no other god than luffy

Zoro in the last fight scene:

and that's called, actually my husband, thank you, and I'd appreciate it very much if you didn't stab him with a whaling harpoon <3

I love how Zoro and Luffy are both predators in their own right

"Sabo says humans kiss soft, but you don't."

MMMMMMMMMMM

Literally screaming, crying and throwing up in the best way possible, like, I canttttt

Idk if you can tell, but this fic KILLS ME IN THE BEST WAY POSSIBLEEE

[crazystargirl]

Hiii, i'm so glad that you are feeling better!

Idk if you write for him or not, but if you do, can you do an ethan x reader fic? Where yn finds out the ethan is ghostface and confronts him and he gets ashamed and apologizes but when she tries to comfort him quinn andofficer bailey show up. quinn stabs yn as officer bailey explains that she was a liability as ethan sobs on the floor. oh and i want yn to die lol

you can add more if you'd like, i'm requesting this at three in the morning and my hand is beginning to cramp so that is all i will be asking for.

i love your writing so much! i'm sorry about the toxic relationships, i'm glad you're doing better now!

too bad

pairing ! - ethan landry x fem!reader 

word count ! - 0.6k

a/n ! - OMFG MY EYES LEGIT POPPED OUT WHILE READING THE REQUEST HELP 😭 ive only written angst once before so this might be the shittiest thing ever

your whole world was current crashing down

it started on wednesday night, you went to your boyfriend's house after a long day of classes only to find him fucking dead

literally he was on the bed, throat slashed and bleeding out all over the comforter

you stared at the scene in horror and then noticed something on the ground

it was a small pocket knife and it was the exact same one your best friend ethan had always showed you

so after a few days, once the whole news that your boyfriend was murdered, you went over to ethan's house

you were now here in ethan's bedroom and ethan sure as hell knew something was up

"y/n/n what's wrong?" ethan said, confused but continued stroking your hair as you laid on his bed, throwing a pillow up and catching it over and over again

you sit up looking him straight in the eye but when you spoke your voice was somewhat shaky

"ethan…i found your pocket knife at my boyfriend's house…the same night he was murdered" you say, holding out his pocket knife

"shit that's nothing" ethan says trying to grab it from you but you put it back in your pocket

ethan sighed and sat back down and took your hands in his

"look y/n i didnt want you to find out like this but im one of the ghostfaces" ethan says, unable to look you in the eye

you're shocked but probably not as much as you should've been, this has all happened to you before when you found out amber was ghostface

unknown to you and ethan, quinn had snuck into the room, positioned behind you before stabbing you right in neck, then under the rib, then in the feet so you were unable to run, not like you'd be able to anyway

you screamed out in pain at every stab as ethan desperately tried to get you away from quinn and clutching you, quietly sobbing as he saw the light that he had once adored leave your eyes

"what the fuck did you do that for?!" ethan yells at quinn, still clutching your limp body

"i didn't much care for her to be honest, she seemed like she was just there since you looked so pathetic" quinn said, flipping the knife

"for fucks sake ethan you were desperately pinning for her while she had a boyfriend so i took care of her for you!" quinn says gleefully

ethan turned to the door as his father came in taking one look at ethan clutching you and just scoffed

"she was a liability ethan, she was bound to end up dead at some point. not only that but she distracted every damn time" wayne said as he walked over to quinn

"plus don't get mad at quinn, i asked her to kill y/n since i knew you wouldn't have the strength to and if we plotted her death with you around you would've flipped out"

ethan sat there, still holding you and even holding his hands over your ears as if he could stop you from hearing anything his dad was saying

"get out…get the fuck out of room both of you!" ethan yelled at his sister and dad

quinn scoffed and wayne came over to ethan's bed to take y/n's corpse but ethan gave him such a cold stare that he left the room with quinn

"what the actual fuck is wrong with them" ethan muttered into your head, stroking your hair as if that mightve brought you back but in the end he knew he'd have to bury you at some point

too bad wayne and quinn didn't know ethan was going to anything to make sure they paid for killing his y/n

taglist ! - @xyzstar, @gwenlore, @dizscreams, @kaesworldxx, @urmomcomsiimiamour, @nonniesworld, @chemtr4ilz, @abodyhasbeenfound, @phsychobanana

lmk if you want to be added/removed !

©crazystargirl || do NOT copy or repost without my permission

[chasedeys]

do you write any rpf, like on Ao3? I’m new so idk if you’ve posted about it or not but IM LITERALLY OBSESSED with your answers to any anon ask. I would read a whole ten page essay from you about joemarr and im not joking. anyways, i love anything you post!!

hiiiiii loveeeee, thank you for liking my thoughts on joemarr!!! kind of self conscious abt it honestly bc im drawing up conclusions abt them technically without any basis but yeah 😭❤️ (also english is very much not my first language so i struggle to word things so saying you'd read a 10 page essay from me is very <33333)

i have written and posted 1 (one) fic and its a ja'marr gets nipple piercings fic lmaooo and opposite to the way it sounds it's not even horny or even tender horny its just like full of love and devotion ahaha no but really don't expect much please

some extra under the cut wkwkwk

SORRY BUT im taking advantage of this ask to add a whole unfinished 2k- jumble of another fic i was working on but probably won't finish bc the lack of full understanding of how contract and free agency works and like refusal to actually research shit bc i get stupid sad thinking about it so:

Joe stares down the stretch of the field, Ja’Marr standing by the rest of the receivers laughing as Chuck and Andrei try to playfully (....maybe) murder each other via sumo wrestling moves that are definitely not regulation. He’s just wearing tights today for bottoms–so the delicious tautness of his thighs are free for Joe to gaze hungrily at. Truck, 30 yards in front of him very patiently waiting to catch his warm-up throws, has cleared his throat three times in the past 45 minutes for Joe to tear his eyes away from Ja’Marr Chase and throw the damn ball.

It’s torture. It’s love, devotion.

It’s disgusting levels of Down Bad.

(joe gets introspective throughout practice post ravens lost yada yada they go back home, joe invites jamarr for sudden cheat day meal at like 2 am)

Ja’Marr shows up in his front door bleary eyed and sleep rumpled. He’s decked in thick flannel pajama pants that absolutely do not look cheap, dark grey geaux tigers hoodie with purple LSU letters that clashes with the red of his pants, last season’s bengals beanie that also clashes with the rest of his outfit colors, and gucci slides…that also clash with the rest of the outfit. It’s a mismatched sort of vulnerability that twists up Joe’s insides. Here’s his north star wrapped up in all the things Joe cherishes.

Ja’Marr turns up his nose when he finally finishes yawning right at Joe’s face and notices Joe with his raised eyebrow looking up and down amusedly at his outfit.

“Shut up,” he says. “It’s a 2 am non-party night. Like hell I’m dressing up pretty for you.”

Ja’Marr’s always pretty to Joe, but that’s fine.

“I didn’t say anything.” Joe replies back, moving to the side so Ja’Marr can drag his feet inside the threshold, “I don’t judge you for your fashion taste.”

Joe cleverly dodges the foot being kicked back to his side. Amazing reflexes, of course.

“Where’s this hearty meal you promised me?” Ja’Marr just talks loudly over the dig Joe makes at him.

“On its way. DoorDash says it’s 7 minutes out.”

“Did you get extra cream soup?”

“Yeah, of course.”

(yada yada some banter some cute shit wanted to describe them sitting in joes billion dollar custom renovated kitchen that i would stress out is 'modern and kitschy' with different shades of pink for accents)

He’s been making insane catch-and-runs, Joe reflects. Offers to his agent would be stacking up starting next year, his last year in his contract with Cincinnati.

“It would be easier.” Joe says, throat cramping. “If you want to trade.”

Ja’Marr’s hands stutter and his stupid little butter knife clatters to the table.

“What?”

Joe darts his eyes to the other man, a millisecond glance and he’s gazing back to his ice cream. The receiver’s voice had been harsh, choked up in surprise. Joe feels his insides curdle even worse.

“Just–” he starts, a mess of thoughts jumbled in his head, “if you wanted to. I would understand. Your stats are amazing. If Duke’s still gunning to be an idiot and wait for your contract to dry up before resigning, you can–”

Here he pauses. Saying things makes it real. Saying they’re not a championship level team made him want to gouge his eyes out. Saying how Ja’Marr could leave him would possibly end his life as he knows it.

But Ja’Marr deserves to know Joe won’t hold him back. He refuses to. So:

“If you want, you can sign up for free agency. Next season.”

Well.

Ja’Marr’s face is heartbreaking to see. Joe feels the corner of his mouth drag down, his eyes are fucking burning, his throat is closing up, his hands are clammy, his ears are ringing, his neck is cold but his head is on fire.

“Do you–” Ja’Marr starts, but his voice is cracking, so he has to start over again. He’s scrunching his eyes shut and his mouth is quivering and Joe feels like he’s clumped up dirt under a needlessly expensive boot. 

Twice this season now he’s caused Ja’Marr to look like this. At least this time he’s not pushing him physically, but with the way Ja’Marr’s trembling all over this might just be worse. God, Joe can’t even blame being in Kansas City for this. This time, Ja’Marr isn’t hiding from the thousands of eyes scrutinizing him from the bleachers, from across the field, from the houses of unknown fans through LED screens. The agony is clear in the widening of his eyes and the curl of his mouth and the crack of his voice. 

“Do you not want me?”

Just the barest whisper like Ja’Marr’s vocal cords has up and left. Joe feels insane thinking of the heart-clenching anymore? Ja’Marr doesnt say.

Joe’s mouth falls open but no sound comes out. There isn’t a single universe in the hypothetical collection of potentially diverse multiverses Joe believes in, that a Joe Burrow wouldn’t want Ja’Marr Chase to stay by his side. But would saying this to the other be right? 

He takes too long to answer. Ja’Marr’s face shuts down, going cold.

“Wow, okay, fuck you.”

Joe flinches back at the viciousness of the curse. He has never once in his life been the direct recipient of Ja’Marr’s brand of tiger claws defense, teeth sharp, no mercy. 

“I cannot believe you. I thought we were fine now! We’re on the same page again! I leave that contract bullshit behind, you fixed your anxiety over your wrist, but, what, another fucking shitty pick and you don’t think I got it anymore? Fucking free agency, shut your stupid fucking mouth, Joe Burrow, before I do something I regret.”

Joe’s hands automatically flashes to settle the plates rattling when Ja’Marr abruptly stands up and slams his hands to the table. He’s looking up at him now, still sitting down on the bright pink stool in his billion dollar kitschy kitchen with Ja’Marr Chase looming over him in fury.

“I followed you here! To fucking Ohio. I hated the idea of even stepping foot in this state before I fell in love with this fucking city! I did it because of you! I have said multiple fucking times that I’m not leaving you. I said to the fucking media that you were like a god to me, are you fucking kidding me? I bullshitted my way through all those disgusting interviews trying not to say the wrong thing and still having people say I’m stalking you or some shit because I can’t help word-vomitting over you! I have been this fucking close–” 

Ja’Marr shoots his right hand up right in the space between them, pressing his thumb and pointer finger so close the skin whitens.

“–to saying to fucking Hobs that I’m ass over tits in love with you! And now you’re telling me it’ll be alright if I leave? That it'll be easier? Just because, what, this stingy ass poverty franchise doesn’t know how to handle its players unless they’re you? That we keep losing even when you throw fucking bullets and I run across the entire fucking field from endzone to the endzone for 60 points? Joe Lee Burrow, I swear if I loved you less I would kill you.”

Ja’Marr finishes his rant with another slam on the table like he needs one more outlet for his anger. He’s heaving breaths, tears running down his cheeks (god, no), face all twisted up. Through Joe’s frozen state, he could see Ja’Marr’s face pale rapidly as he fully realizes what he’s said. Mouth always running a full minute over his brain.

God.

Joe stands wobbly quick when Ja’Marr stumbles around the table towards the kitchen doors.

For all that Joe unashamedly lies over how fast he is–(’i am fast, ja’marr. I can outrun you.’ ‘be so for real right now.’)–he can never outpace Ja’Marr. But for this one thing–this one thing–Joe slams against a blurring Ja’Marr and uses the momentum and extra inches and pounds he’s got over the man to cage him against the nearby fridge.

Ja’Marr yelps as his back rattles against the fridge doors, magnets and receipts and photos and post-it notes not trapped between him and the door fall to the floor. One of those brightly colored humanoid magnets slam against Joe’s left toe. A polaroid of Joe and his Mom somehow balances perfectly right on top of Ja’Marr’s head before fluttering away when Ja’Marr shakes his head in furious disbelief. His beanie had fumbled off his head in the initial tackle, lying on the ground right next to Joe’s right foot. 

Joe’s left hand is pinning his man’s right shoulder against the fridge door, hips flushed against him, a leg between his thighs, right arm tucked against the side of Ja’Marr’s waist, face right up against each other like every other overly enthusiastic helmet slam in the field after a ridiculous yard run–but there’s no helmet this time, and there’s no reason for Joe to hide how his eyes slide down the length of Ja’Marr’s face to his lips, letting his gaze linger deliberately long.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Ja’Marr blusters, cheeks going deep red, eyes pinballing widely over Joe’s own features (to his lips even! how exciting.), hands curling on each of Joe’s elbows with his nails biting down through the thick fabric of his sweatshirt over his skin. “What, are you going to hit me? Break my heart? You already did, asswipe, no need to be an annoying overachiever this time! Get off of me, I swear–”

“I don’t want you to go. I never want you to leave. Ever.” Joe cuts him off brutally. Let this be the firmest truth he’s ever said in his life. “I asked you to come here. I always want to play football with you. I always want random midnight DoorDash dinners with you. You keep saying insane shit about me in interviews, have you heard me talk about you? The last KC presser I had to hold back saying I hurt you in front of 50 people sitting down with their laptops open looking at me like I’m a bug to study. I have never been normal about you. You drive me insane, stop staring at me with those cow eyes. Who the fuck lies about dressing their friends up in magazine interviews? And that fucking photoshoot! Were you planning on killing me? Tee sends me your Instagram training pics from back in May like once a week to torture me! I nearly blocked his ass, Ja’Marr, shut up.”

(like. i want the speech to be more?? idk more emotional in the confessional aspect but alas i don't know how to write shit out)

Ja’Marr looks back at him wide-eyed. He hasn’t really said anything throughout Joe’s turn of ranting, but even so Joe needs him to shut up, genuinely. This beautiful, beautiful man doesn’t know Joe loves him. Stupid. Stupid.

“Ja’Marr.” Joe says, low and hoarse. He slides his hands up to cup at his cheeks now that Ja’Marr isn’t pushing his weight back at him. The wetness of his cheeks from his previous tears seeps into Joe’s skin. “I love you.”

“Oh, wow.” Ja’Marr just says back, hoarse and dumb. This man, Joe swears.

Whatever.

Joe kisses him hard and gets dizzy with it. Ja’Marr chokes in surprise, but gets with the program quick enough.

The side of his nose presses against Ja’Marr’s, he’s biting at his bottom lips, his lashes brush against the cold wetness of his cheeks, his hands press hard against the side of Ja’Marr’s neck and he feels like he can count each heartbeat against the tender skin of his wrists pasted to Ja’Marr’s jugular.

“Hi,” he murmurs over his man’s lips, heart feeling so fucking full.

Ja’Marr laughs against his lips incredulously, eyes screwed shut and lips stretched stupid wide. The prettiest thing Joe’s ever seen in his life. Insanely, he feels that if he were to play all 12 games of the season left this morning right after separating himself from Ja’Marr, he’d throw over 300 yards each. Things love could fuel you to do–winning a championship of a sport he’s thrown his entire heart in, with a man who’s gripped it tight since he knew how to throw it to him too.

“Dumbass,” Ja’Marr murmurs back, nudging his nose to Joe’s for the softest nose kiss Joe has ever experienced, “hi to you too.”

ok bye

[miammey]

Okay, hi, my name is Austin and it feels like no one will listen to me when I talk about the Hunting Dog’s fighting styles.

Like, idk what’s about it but just hear me out.

When it comes to Jouno, he’s usually drawn — in my opinion with a sleeper build. Like, not a lot of muscle in my opinion.

So, in that case, I feel like he uses his sword a lot but when it comes to hand to hand combat? I feel like he’s more of a Black Widow type of fighter. Like full body attacks, I feel like during sparring he’s locked Tecchou in a thigh chokehold before while punching his head.

Yes I know technically he probably has a lot of muscle from the enhancement surgeries, but also because’s he’s blind, I feel like he rely on agility and mobility rather than brute strength like Tecchou. Like add some class to it.

Like full body, all the way. Especially that spin move Natasha does?

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8q18Lhu/

Like that, he’s done it so many times before. I feel like he also uses his legs a lot, like he’s a bad habit kicker and he honed it to perfection. Like making a bad habit a good weapon.

Now, we all know Tecchou uses his sword a lot. It’s basic instinct since it’s his ability at this point. But when it comes to hand to hand combat? He’s a kick boxer. Like for real throwing hands with a little of Kuina Hikari from Alice in Borderland’s fighting style in the mix. Like, look it up on Youtube and you’ll know what I’m talking about.

Teruko.

Ah, Teruko.

She doesn’t have a fighting style.

Let me rephrase that, she has multiple and she can’t pick one or choose. Her fighting style is whatever will take down her opponent faster. Boxing, Tae Kwan Do, Agni Kai, Streetfighting, Black Widow — whatever will take down her opponent, she’s doing it.

Hell, she’ll fuck around and copy their fighting style for shits and giggles.

Now Tachihara is the prime example of “packing heat.”

He brings the gun to the sword fights. He brings the gun to the knife fights because nobody is bulletproof to him. It’s all fun and games, all abilities and whatnot and he’ll forget his ability and just start shooting.

Hand to Hand combat tho? He’s a street fighter. Like, street fighter. Hands up, jacket off, hopping in place and throwing hands and putting people in chokeholds. That’s it, that’s all.

Thank you for reading this through and I hope you have an awesome day!

Ooohh yes yes yes!!! I love hearing about fighting styles, keep talking about it all you want!!! These are awesome and make total sense!!! Idk what a lot of these character’s fighting styles look like, but I get the picture through your explanations

Jouno putting his whole body into it makes a lot of sense, yes he’s fairly muscular but body-type wise he feels like he’s be a bit leaner than characters like Tecchou or Teruko (adult form). I also think that he’d just have more fun in that sense

Tecchou throwing hands is something we need more of, even without his sword this guy’s a menace and I love that

Teruko not sticking to one specific style and going with whatever works in the moment fits her character so well, she’s definitely the type to think on her feet and keep her opponent on their toes

Tachihara being a streetfighter also fits super well, especially with the gangster-personality he has in the Mafia. I also imagine if he does run out of bullets he’d just start smacking people with his gun alongside his fists lol (that’s called pistol whipping, right??)

Anyway, thank you so much for sharing this, Austin!! If you have any more to share I’m absolutely down to listen!!

[rozaceous]

idk that it fits anywhere within my existing tcba fics, really, since it's not an extra or an au? but here, have my original ending to tcba's wave arc before i decided that i actually take serious injury seriously

The bridge is in its last stages of construction and Mariko has convinced Kakashi that she's well enough to at least watch the bridge be finished. She is, too, because the headaches are all but gone and the tinnitus had stopped four days previous, but also she'd been going stir-crazy in the house, especially since she'd had trouble focusing on her embroidery long enough for it to function properly as a distraction and Tsunami had refused to let her help with the housework.

But she's perched on one of the bridge’s support beams with a warm, if humid, wind in her face, and Kakashi's stitches--just as neat as hers, but he'd used the last of her blue embroidery thread because she was out of her surgical thread, and she isn't sure she's forgiven him for it because blue is one of the only colors she can see properly--itch a little and the area will probably scar. But it doesn't hurt much any longer and the muscles underneath have mostly healed and there aren't any signs of infection. In fact, she should be able to remove the stitches later tonight.

So she's feeling pretty good, all things considered.

Zabuza and Haku show up mid-morning, the former conferring with Kakashi and the latter offering a small wave to her in her high-up resting place. Mariko wastes no time in sliding down the nearest column with a controlled glide of chakra coating her hands and feet. Sasuke and Naruto also take a pause in helping the construction crew to come over from their position further down the bridge.

"I'm not so sure you should be moving," is her greeting to him.

Haku just smiles. "Shouhei-sensei cleared me for travel so long as I don't exert myself, Mariko-san. And how are your own injuries?"

"Yeah, I'm good," she says dismissively, right hand already glowing green. "And no offense to Shouhei-sensei, but he doesn't have jutsu to back him."

Haku lets her fish her hand through the front of his kimono top and lay it over his shirt, one eyebrow up and seeming dreadfully amused. "I don't need to worry about my intestines, do I? I promise I'm type O, and Shouhei-sensei cleared me of any blood borne illnesses."

Mariko falters and has the horrible sensation of heat creeping into her cheeks.

Naruto and Sasuke choose this prime moment to arrive, with Mariko blushing and with her hand in a smirking Haku's shirt. Naruto comes up short, and Sasuke narrows his eyes.

"I thought you'd passed out by that point," Mariko says, forcefully returning her attention to Haku's neatly bandaged side.

"Oh, not quite yet," Haku says pleasantly. "It was such a graphic threat, I would've been afraid to fail to hear the end of it."

"Threat?" Zabuza pipes up, because apparently he and Kakashi are finished talking and the universe hates her.

"Mariko-chan," Kakashi says warningly. "What did I say about iryouninjutsu before we got you checked out at the hospital?"

"It's just a diagnostic," she retorts. But she drops the jutsu anyways and retrieves her hand. She takes a half-step back because she'd definitely invaded Haku's personal space and, wow, it's a warm day. She clears her throat. "Well, your ribs are fragile as all hell, and I don't know if your nerves will ever fully regenerate there. It's not too far from the spine, so there's at least a chance you won't have a permanent numb spot. But you really need to see a proper medic soon to check out your heart and kidney and to bolster all the work I did reconstructing your ribs and muscle. No jutsu, no jumping, no throwing, nothing faster than a leisurely walk, don't lift anything heavier than a spoonful of soup, and drink plenty of water but not all at once. Your kidney's this close to giving up, you still might go into cardiac arrest, and I didn't spend all that chakra just for you to die because you thought you were well enough to move with more speed and agility than a geriatric sloth."

Haku smiles at her again. "Thank you for the advice, Mariko-san. And for your assistance that day. I owe you in more ways than one."

Faster than he can blink, she has a hand and a scowl pinning him in place. "I know you weren't just about to try to bow, Haku-san."

Haku's eyes go a little wide.

To her right, Naruto snickers.

"It wasn't advice," she says, retracting her hand from his shoulder. "They were medic's orders. And you don't owe me anything. Just paying you back for those herbs you gave to Naruto for me."

"I didn't realize I charged such a high rate of interest."

"Good thing I never plan to let you loan me money, then."

He laughs and covers his mouth with a hand demurely. Haku moves on to thank Naruto as well, but all Mariko really registers is the flaming hellscape which is her face and the intensely judgmental look Sasuke is giving her.

"Shut up," she tells him.

He scoffs.

Zabuza's voice, when it comes, is a low rumble.

"I owe you one, little girl."

Mariko looks back at him, a little startled, but then her eyes narrow. "You owe me two, Momo-chan," she replies firmly, because an inability to haggle is something that would cause her parents actual disappointment. "And my name's Shiko Mariko, not 'little girl.' Get it right."

It's generally held wisdom amongst shinobi not to share your family name if it isn't the sort of thing to help you, but Mariko has a powerful feeling that this isn't the last she'll see of Zabuza or Haku, and if one of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist owes her, he'd better know who he's owing.

Zabuza hasn't re-bandaged his face--probably because he needs those bandages everywhere else--so she sees the razor points of his teeth when he grins at her.

"Two, huh?"

"Two," she confirms.

He doesn't challenge her count which means he's just as aware as she is that if she were any less skilled at iryouninjutsu and had died from his blow during their initial meeting, not only would Haku be dead because she wouldn't have been there to save him, but Zabuza himself would be dead because Kakashi would have made sure of it. And that was assuming that Naruto wouldn't have freaked out, lost his handle on the Kyuubi, and done it himself.

But Zabuza didn't need to worry about that last part.

His grin widens. "Am I not pretty enough to get a bye?"

Mariko sniffs, cheeks that had cooled coloring again. "I don't know what you're talking about. I am both just and merciful."

"Whatever you say, Shiko Mariko."

"Glad you're catching on."

[inkyquince]

omg i am so with u on the “what if reader was short and adorable and sooo much smaller than (insert character)” like what about reader who is tall and is batshit crazy and is a masochist !!!!! what about us!!!!!!!!

okay, okay, okay. let me explain this theory i have using hit smash dark romantic comedy, NBC's Hannibal, and somewhat, the extended Hannibal books.

Okay so, all fannibals know that Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter are the main romantic pairing. They're in love. Murder Husbands was said IN the show, that's not a thing the fandom made up. Anyway-

A HUGE reason I adore Hannibal and the fandom is that... Bedelia should be Hannibal's love interest or obsession, in the same way the slasher fandom's usual Y/N is small petite and adorable and shit.

She is his perfect equal (kinda). She is put together, she is smart, she is beautiful, she is polite, she is a fellow psychiatrist. Hell, Bedelia was changed from an old woman in the earlier drafts to the mindblowing Gillian Anderson.

By all reason, she should be the one Hannibal is in love with.

She isn't.

Directly opposite of Bedelia, is Will Graham.

He is SO me-core. He is a rude, sweaty, sarcastic, dog dad. He is disturbed and twitchy and bitchy. He is autistic with an empathy disorder.

And Hannibal has many scenes where that man is staring at Will's ass. That man is so in love. The way he looks at that depressed homicidal fucker is beautiful. Just look at Tobias Budge's last episode. Look at how miserable he is in Europe with Bedelia while pining for Will. Yes, pining is a word the show uses, not me. He KILLS another man because he tried to peek behind the curtain like Will did.

And finally, we have Hannibal Lecter's book romantic partner, Clarice. Shout out, Clary. Bad bitch, redhead, and somehow Hannibal is the only man you can even like when you read her books, cuz every other guy is a gross asshole.

So, one one side, Bedelia, on the otherside, Will and in the middle, Clarice.

For a lot of slashers, it feels like... They'd enjoy the Will Graham of love interests. The unhinged. The weird. Like Chucky, Tiffany is the only woman for him (I COULD TREAT HER BETTER).

So, on a range of reader inserts there is the Bedelia's. The ones that SHOULD hold their interest, like Greta in The Boy. Pretty and smol and adorable and oh my god girlies. The one that in practise, would be their lil obsession.

Then we get reader insert Clarice. The understanding, the bad bitch, the one who hears the lambs screaming. In between socially acceptable and unhinged. God I love Clarice. I play remothered and kiss the screen. Takes time to become. Maybe its a bit of stockholm, or Hanni's extra finger is just that good at fingering. (i cannot emphasise enough how much i love Clarice. i legit hate fanfic that try to cast her as a basic bitch. god, she was like my major crush for years.)

Then.... Willy. ehe

The one, you can fully understand and fits too well. These two men SHOW to enjoy each other's company. Hannibal excuses SO much of Will Graham's fucking bullshit because Will Graham is such a BITCH AND I LOVE HIM. Bursting in, throwing his coat, saying he kissed Alana and the only thing Hannibal can focus on? Fucker got kissed. Next episode he sends a serial killer to her house. Get your own bad bitch to kiss, Alana. Hannibal killed people for being rude, or implying rudeness. Will is CONSTANTLY RUDE AND MEAN AND BITCHY and hannibal is kicking his feet.

So, take a slasher.

Let's say.... Ghostface. Shout out Billy and Stu, you guys would have loved... Gay porn? idk man.

Reader 1 is a perfect victim. Stays quiet, all uwu, and they get hard. Neat.

Reader 2 knows who they are. Just shrugs. They're enthused that you don't care and then they get hard. Brilliant. We love a morally grey reader.

Reader 3 is just unhinged. They're strange and weird and they stab back. They get hard. Stu, please, you don't have the blood to spare to get HARD RIGHT NOW-

Anyway, its how I categorise readers. They all somewhat make sense, but my favourite reader insert will be thjrd reader. The antithesis to the slasher. They SHOULDNT be into them, but THEY ARE, and thEY DON'T KNOW WHY.

Like, I love Hannibal because it was the first time we got a Will Graham, instead of a Greta. (also the fact this bitch was called Greta. WHO CALLS THEIR KID GRET0 who cares.)

Im not sure im explaining properly but I love a love interest that is an exception to the slasher. They dont fit in their world, but because of that, its sexy.

Also, the reader being a mess. Its why i love fallen hero rebirth, you can play such a messy villain that everyone still gets hard for. Will Graham was such a breath of fresh air, he's rumpled, he's a bitch, he's tired, his brain is on fire. But Hannibal still wanted to smash, in more than one way.

I fucking love unhinged readers, more than the cute little readers who are 4'11, cant reach shelves and always wear snug weedle jumpers. Like shout out if you are that, you're adorable, but my brain wants to see if i can knock you down like bowling pins. I will read a thing where the male reader jumps on The Collector's back and starts biting and be like omf so me vibes.

Weird bitches needs more weird bitches. And Will Graham once had a weird hallucination he was having a fivesome with hannibal alana margot and a w*ndigo, which is such a weird girl vibe

[mochalottie]

I'm a BIG Malachy lover/supporter so this is what you get for keeping him alive and making him live with the Sully's!

_

This what he's getting, for betraying his kind a punishment was served to him.

Maybe he should think of this with more of a happy tone?

Eywa herself wanted him to give her one last prove of his loyalty? Nah this was definitely a punishment.

On earth with his sister this never happened, probably because she wasn't much younger then him but anyway.

But for god- eywa sake this is impossible, why on hell, heaven and earth are this four so difficult to work with?!

"Tuk for the last time, no you can't eat those episoth seeds, they're for later" he tried to take from Tuk's hands the seeds but she gave him her tongue before putting all of them in her mouth.

Which lead him to groan frustrated, in the corner of his eyes there were Lo'ak and Spider throwing hands at eachother for some reason.

This was suddenly more urgent then the now chewed and swallowed seeds.

"What happen?!" He run to them, not stopping with their throwing hands.

"This bitch-" Lo'ak begin but a punch in his stomach made him stop

"Lo'ak broke by arrows!" Spider screamed

"Not on purpose! Is your fault you lefted them around, i could have get my feet cut!"

"It would have been better!"

And then Spider was on top of Lo'ak trying to punch him in the face

Malachy looked around himself "Neteyam i would love some kind of help!"

But the teen remained sitted on his hammock.

"Well if mom and dad needed my help they would set me to babysit, but noo they set you to do it, so i won't help" he said with such a nonchalant tone

"Are you angry with them or with me?!" Malachy asked but Neteyam gave him shrug remaining set.

"Kiri?" Malachy turned to watch the other teen but she rolled her eyes

"I can't do that too! Im cooking"

"You litteraly painting and looking at the food from time to time an- WHY DO I SMELL SMOKE, FOR EYWA SAKE YOU BURNING IT!"

"WHY GOING TO DIEEEE" Screamed Tuk as she and her brothers run out of the house

Some hours later

"Tiri i told you we could have trusted him for babysitting the kids, look they all sleeping" Jake said observing the pile of five bodies sleeping all next to eachother.

"You right"she said with a smile, handing Jake a cover "cover those too before they get a cold"

Jake did as ordered and placed a cover over Malachy and Tuk, that for the moment were hugging the other for some sort of warm.

_

Idk, i just love malachy.

Also Neteyam is mad about the fact that he thinks his parents don't trust him but they trust malachy more, teenagers paranoia basically.

that's so good anon.

also so pleased you love Malachy! <333

[k9wa]

༊*·˚ COLLEGE CLICHES. featuring haruchiyo sanzu, manjiro sano, keisuke baji, ken ryuguji, takashi mitsuya.

∴ SYNOPSIS : sappy and stupid college cliches i think the tokyo rev boys would fit.

∴ CONTENT : highschooler tries to write about college, fluff if you squint, this is a little silly, gn reader (no referring pronouns.)

∴ NOTE : if u would wanna see this with a few other characters feel free to lmk! hope u enjoy :]

༉‧₊˚. HARUCHIYO SANZU — who is your lifeline in adv calc, when your teacher is the biggest asshole and neither of you are as good at math as you thought.

⠀

sanzu slowly rubbed over the skin on his face as his eyes danced between his computer screen and textbook, and he came to the conclusion he genuinely had wanted to just die right then and there. 

his professor was driving him absolutely insane; another old man with a stick up his ass, who he swore only took up teaching to make a bunch of college kids feel like idiots, and it didn’t help that he was shit at his job either. sanzu wasn’t built for school, let alone calculus, and every day he remained in that class he questioned what the fuck possessed him to take it in the first place.

he threw the cover of his textbook closed and picked up his phone, opening his messages to the only reason he hadn’t dropped the aforementioned course.

sanzu: this prof is fucked

sanzu: like seriously wtf is half of this shit

♡: switch courses i dare u

sanzu smirked down at his phone when you had responded so quickly.

you two had made an agreement upon meeting at the beginning of the semester, and quickly bonding over your regret for choosing adv calc; the first person to drop the course owed the other one $100. (a good chunk of money, considering you were both broke.) it was the start of a beautiful friendship, and an even more passionate shared hatred for the man you were meant to be learning under. plus, haruchiyo couldn’t deny that he enjoyed talking to you outside of complaints and 3am meltdowns over whatever the hell the derivative matrix was.

♡: or come study with me

♡: cus idk wtf im doing either

sanzu: switch courses i dare u

♡: kys come over

sanzu snorted to himself, swiftly turning around in his chair and throwing his belongings into his cross body bag. as shitty as his class was, at least he had met someone worth sticking around in it for.

sanzu: im omw relax

♡: can u get coffee on ur way

sanzu: what happened to please

♡: please haruchiyo my favourite man in the whole entire world

sanzu: drop calc with me and i will

♡: shut up tbh

it was worth a shot.

༉‧₊˚. MANJIRO SANO

— who hit a volleyball straight into your cranium and insisted he buy you lunch as an apology.

⠀

embarrassed was an understatement for what you felt.

it was like some terrible romcom, something you only see happen in movies with an unrealistic representation of what post-secondary school was actually like.

some blonde boy— one who you’re sure you could have gone your entire life without knowing rather peacefully— handed you a bag of ice, along with a neatly wrapped egg sandwich from the cafe he’d dragged you to.

“you sure your head is okay?” he watched as you pressed the cold plastic to the back of your skull.

“yeah, i don’t think it hit me as hard as it looked.”

“well, it did kinda knock you off your feet.”

you glared at mikey, and he had to stifle a laugh at the expression on your face.

“i’m sorry! you’ve gotta admit it’s kinda funny right?”

you used your teeth to unwrap some of the parchment paper and took a bite from your sandwich, at least the food was good.

“you nearly took my head off.”

“well it's less funny when you put it like that.”

you couldn’t stop the chuckle that slipped past your lips at how casual he was being, despite the context that you were two total strangers.

“seriously though, ‘m sorry. y’know i never would have hit you if i was playing soccer, volleyball is a shit sport anyway” the way he crossed his arms and pouted like a little kid was the slightest bit endearing. “i mean, why use your hands when your feet work so much better?”

maybe it was the spur of the moment, or the likely concussion giving you a skewed sense of judgement, but part of your brain was starting to like him.

mikey couldn’t explain it either, but a similar part of his brain was glad he had gotten the chance to meet you, though the circumstances weren’t ideal.

“hmmm…i dunno,“

he tilted his head at you, wondering where your sentence was headed.

“i think you’re gonna have to buy me lunch a couple more times to make up for it.”

mikey couldn’t help but smile, he poked your forehead.

“i must have hit you way harder than i thought.”

༉‧₊˚. KEISUKE BAJI

— who always throws the best parties, but never actually enjoys them unless you show up.

⠀

the pounding on the door of your dorm was quick to pull you out of your focus, forcing your nose out of your books. there was only one person who would knock so aggressively at such an ungodly hour, and he’s lucky your desk chair was becoming uncomfortable and you were planning on getting up to stretch your legs anyway.

swinging the door open, there stood baji, hair tied loosely into a bun at the back of his head, and two coolers occupying each of his palms.

he handed one to you, you gladly took it.

“so this is what you’re doin’ instead of partying with me right now?”

keisuke followed you into your dorm, making himself comfortable on top of your bed, you sat on the free space beside him as you cracked open the can in your hand.

“i told you i couldn’t come like, three days ago.” he groaned at your answer.

“i didn’t think that meant y’would actually flake!” you chuckled as you sipped at your drink, eyes playfully rolling back.

“you’re gonna thank me when this exam rolls around and i actually have notes to give you.”

baji’s lips formed a tight line, he hated when you were right.

“what’s the big deal if i didn’t go? literally almost half of campus showed up at your dorm hall anyway.”

he groaned again, yet louder this time, sitting up so he could open his own drink. he reached his free hand out to flick you right in the tip of your nose, earning a quiet ‘ow..’ from you.

“cus it’s lame when you don’t come around!! and who else is gonna take care of me after i blackout huh?” he took a long swig from the can in his fist.

“how about you go drink your body weight and i’ll come get you in an hour?” although the offer was tempting, and you could see keisuke consider it for a moment, he shook his head and flopped back down on your bed.

“nah, rather chill with you anyway.”

he reached over to hold his drink in the air beside you, and you gently cheersed his can, being careful not to spill any liquid on your bed.

“so, the hell is the exam s’posed to be about anyway?”

༉‧₊˚. KEN RYUGUJI

— who sits in front of you in engineering, and covers up the entire white board in front of you.

⠀

not one note.

not one single note in your binder was finished, all half written or only partially filled out. you wouldn’t have bothered spending the money on equipment to take cute notes if you had known some giant would be sitting in front of you. how were you meant to write anything down when you couldn’t even see the damn board?

at first he intimidated you, how could you not be at least a little afraid of a man who stood at nearly twice your size? however, that intimidation quickly turned into pure irritation upon another day of more blank paper, and you were following him out of the room at the end of class before you had a chance to react.

“hey, you.” 

ken turned around to see who was calling out to, who he assumed to be, him. 

“oh, hey—“

“you’re switching seats with me tomorrow .”

“…why—?“

“because you’re way too big and i can’t see anything past you when you’re in front of me! and i am way too behind in my notes to even hope to pass anymore unless i get caught up!”

ryuguji stared down at you, who was oh so short and angry, while blinking silently as he processed the words being said to him. it was surprising how small you started to feel so quickly when he had to crane his neck down to make eye contact.

“we’re like, two weeks into the semester and you’re telling me this now? i would have moved if y’had said something sooner.” ken chuckled and placed a hand on his hip, leaning down to your height with the most smug look suddenly dawning on his features. you opened your mouth to respond, yet only a jumble of stutters fell off your tongue. the irritation had subsided, and the intimidation was back in full throttle.

“i'll tell you what,” he began, “why don’t you sit beside me tomorrow, and i'll share my notes with you so you can catch up.”

well,

you supposed that would work. 

“my way of apologizing for bein’ ‘way too big.’”

…you really did need those notes.

“okay, fine. that’s fine.” with a small bow, you turned around to begin your route to your next class, eager to run away from the awkward conversation you’d stuck yourself in.

“thanks, um, tall…guy— whatever your name is.”

and as quickly as you came, there you went. 

it was about to be a whole other problem when the next day rolled around, and you would discover ryuguji’s terrible handwriting.

༉‧₊˚. TAKASHI MITSUYA

— who is your favourite study buddy, and knows your cafe order by heart.

⠀

the smell of freshly brewed espresso and slightly stale confections danced through the air, a comfortable aroma for mitsuya to sit in while he scribbled at a design that had been picking his brain all day. the headphones in his ears played some random pre-made lo-fi playlist as he sipped his coffee (—black, 2 sugars) that had long turned lukewarm, yet was just hot enough to warm his palm through the paper cup. the booth by the window he was slouched in was empty, save for him of course, and he waited ever so patiently for his classmate to join him and fill the space across from him.

the sound of the cheap bell above the cafe’s doors chiming alerted him that you had finally arrived, and he pried his attention away from his doodles to see you shuffling over to the spot you both had become perfectly familiar with, laptop in hand along with a knit hat and matching scarf keeping you warm from the autumn breeze.

“how late am i?” you plopped down in your seat, placing the tote bag hanging from your shoulder onto the seat beside you.

“probably,” he checked his phone, “twenty minutes.” mitsuya pulled his headphones down so they sat slack around his neck. 

you groaned at his answer, you hadn’t meant to have gotten so hung up with club activities.

“i’m sorry, this stupid– festival is seriously giving us a run for our money. i didn’t even realize what time it was.”

takashi listened to you intently, nodding his head quietly as he pushed a small plate towards you; a croissant decorated in your favourite jelly, as well as a coffee cup similar to his own, the only difference being the mound of cream and sweetener inside yours.

the action had become so normal, you hadn’t even paid any mind to the way he would always order for you anymore, having your order ready by the time you arrived to meet him was just the usual.

mitsuya truly remembered the littlest details about your coffee order, from how thick you liked the foam on top to the temperature. not to mention his mental database of the variety of pastries you would eat alongside them.

“tell me about it. what’s your club doing again?”

he remembered, takashi just enjoyed the way you got so excited talking about it.

he listened to the way you rambled on, the way you so easily talked to him, how you could do it for hours, and not once would he be anywhere near sick of hearing the sound of your voice

⠀ ⠀ ⠀m.list⠀ ღ⠀send me an ask!⠀ ღ⠀navi

[strawberry-valentines]

First request for a John Doe bc we don’t got enough content for the skrunkly man 😩.

This is kinda sad but idk why I can’t get the concept out of my head. So the whole time loop idea has always been interesting to me and I was wondering how doe would feel. I image probably irritated at first but as time goes on he just becomes devastated. Nothing he does in one day will ever matter because the next day “you” won’t remember. After he comes to this one day he just breaks the cycle just crying in your arms because he doesn’t know what to do. Poor “you” is just left confused and concerned consoling a seemingly broken man.

I know that’s a bit long and specific???? But I thought it maybe interesting to throw out there. Anyways have a lovely day!

Melting Point (John Doe Hurt/Comfort Fluff?)

Content warning: Mental breakdown, Anxious thoughts.

A/N: Hello!! Oh my god this was my first ask and I am so happy I got to write this, it was super fun! And seriously dude long and specific is what I like to do lol--

Sorry its not the greatest but thank you for the ask! I really hope you like it and please have an amazing day!! ♡♡

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

“Doe..?! What- What are you doing in my house!?”

As you panicked, wondering why on gods green earth John Mcfucking Doe was in your living room of all places, the perpetrator of this fear winced backing away as if he was the one being threatened.

Every day.

Every Single day…

It never changed.

Despite everything. Despite how long he yearned for you to remember him and spent every night restless and praying to whatever god forsaken force that decided to stick him in this purgatory to just let him be happy.

Hell…even if you still hated him when you saw him again he wanted you to recognize him even for a moment.

Even if you only saw him as a creep.

It would be better than this.

It made him so sad. No matter what he did to the world or what he looked like…He was still just some creepy guy to you.

How fucking fitting because he was a creepy guy but...

He didn't want to be some creepy stalker that showed up out of the blue and acted like he knew you despite you knowing full and clear you had never met this man in your life.

He just wanted you to love him or at least understand what was happening and just…Above everything he just wanted to be happy. To have this one happy fleeting moment to himself.

So as Doe stared at you tonight, for possibly the hundredth night in a row, as your eyes glistened with undeniable fear and dread, he simply crumpled.

He couldn’t even start the routine…Not again…It hurt so bad.

As soon as you looked at him like that…He just couldn’t take it anymore.

Sinking to his knees on your carpet, Doe began to sob uncontrollably clutching himself.

“I’m here because…because I just-“

He choked out his words slowly as he tried to make sense of it all, mind going blank.

"Because You…I just want this to go differently-“

"Why cant you just remember me- Please. Please You I’m trying so hard I’ve done everything right I just-“

"I just want to be HAPPY.

"I can be anything you want me to be…ANYTHING just please give me a chance. I can’t LIVE like this anymore its everday…I know I’m horrible, I’m a horrible person but I’m trying-”

"Every single time I see you, you don’t remember me! And…It’s always going to be like this and its never going to change and…Its not your fault but please…”

Your initial fear and anger melted into confusion as you stared down at the glitching pained mess of a man grovelling at your feet.

It was obvious this man was broken. Broken beyond belief and…

You didn’t understand why but somehow it had to do with you.

And it wasn't just him saying it that made you think it. You just knew it in your bones.

You knew as soon as you saw him for the first time this morning he seemed familiar and…It drew you to him but also terrified you.

It was serious Deja’Vu all of it and to be honest it freaked you out. But…You couldn’t just do nothing.

After a few moments and despite your better judgement, you crouched down as well, and albeit cautiously, reached for his pale tear-soaked face cupping it in your hands.

Doe tensed before shuddering as you touched him, staring at you with large, yellowed eyes. He leaned into the motion without realizing it, taking a shaky breath, mouth unconsciously curling in a tentative smile. It felt nice to be...acknowledged like this.

You stared back at him, sadness clouding your own face before slowly beginning to talk, releasing him (to his dissapointment) and scooting closer on the floor.

"Listen…Doe I don’t know what you mean fully but…I do recognize you a little. We’ve...met before somehow haven’t we?”

“You’re familiar.”

Does face flooded with sudden euphoria mouth widening in a grin before going desolate once more, staring down at the floor nodding.

“Every night…It’s a loop.”

“Its hard to explain but…every night the world resets and...you never remember me and…I don’t know how else to explain. But I…I always try to find you because…I really love you and I just want this loop to end and I don’t want to give up on this..."

He studied your face before quickly adding.

"Sorry I'm creepy."

“I know its strange…because you don’t know me right now…”

He cracked a pained smile before continuing.

“But I do love you.”

He bit his thin lip wincing as you began to respond, anticipating your answer.

"So its endless then…I…I don’t understand fully …I’m so sorry Doe."

You stared at him another minute. He seemed....genuine and....you weren't sure but you felt deep within you it was safe to believe him. Despite everything.

"Listen...I believe you. There has to be a way we can break it but…I don’t know how and …I know this can’t just be a crazy coincidence.”

Your voice hardened slowly with resolve.

"But we can do it. I know we can. We’ll find a way somehow…And if we can…I would really love to get to know you. Your right…I don’t know you at all but…I want to.”

You smiled softly tearing up a bit as well.

“I mean it. Even if you are kind of scary."

The moment lingered in the air, the quiet enveloping both of you.

John simply stared at you, face flooding with emotion as tears continued to pour down his cheeks.

…You believed him. You actually BELIEVED HIM.

With no second thought he launched himself into your arms burying himself in your shirt as he continued to cry shaking slightly.

"Thank you You…Thank you...So much.”

You gasped slightly in shock, before hugging back tightly brushing his long hair out of his face.

"Not at all Doe…Stay as long as you need okay? It seems like you really need a hug.”

And for once in this time loop, Doe had a little hope that things might improve.

[nctsplug02]

i was reading the jaehyun smut where he’s hesitant to fuck his wife because of the baby n now im imagining how she ends up being so sexually frustrated from how careful he is that one day she just snaps and says “fine. If u won’t fuck me how I want I’ll find someone who will” and sort of waddles off the bed w her little pregnant feet but jaehyuns ass is like oh hell naw ✋ (heightened sense of protectiveness cause of 🤰but he’s a possessive unbearable loser most of the time anyway) and punishes her with cockwarming or something. like just leaves his cock inside her and doesn’t move at all and tortures her with the sensation until she cries and the whole time he’s just staring at her. Stroking her face lovingly. Telling her how much he loves her. Whispering sweet nothings in her ear. But she’s like…..JUST FUCK ME!!!!!!!

ahhh idk I just love that dynamic sm. Sexually frustrated horny pregnancy brain vs awwww my wife n mother of my child is carrying precious life in her womb, I’ve never loved anyone more.

[7:19pm]

genre: smut

warnings: cursing, reader is pregnant, cockwarming, teasing, degrading, praising, jaehyun is a meanie, unprotected sex, creampie cause it’s hot

jaehyun was busy on his phone, playing a “quick” game of pubg with yuta.

but you were horny.

you needed him. you wanted him.

he hadn’t touched you for a while, the last time you and him had sex was almost three weeks ago. you were annoyed and pissed. touch starved. sex starved.

“jae.. baby?” you tried sounding seductive but no matter how much you tried, it wouldn’t work.

he was so afraid to hurt the baby. he didn’t want to risk any chances into hurting the baby growing inside your belly.

“no, y/n.” he says firmly. his answer wasn’t going to change for a while.

you sigh, licking your lower lip and then smirking. “okay, fine. i’ll go get someone else to fuck me then— johnny perhaps.” you say, struggling to get up from the bed.

“yeah, okay, baby.” jaehyun laughs.

jaehyun looks up when hearing the bedroom slam shut. he throws his phone on the desk and chases after you. “babe, where you going?” he asks, seeing you grab your shoes off the shoe rack.

“going to johnny, duh.” oh, you were serious.

jaehyun blocks the door. “baby, stop messing around.” you laugh. “you think i’m messing around? jae, im sexually frustrated! i need to be touched— i don’t want to keep using my vibrator that dies halfway when i’m near cumming!” you yell in anger and jaehyun stares in shock.

you needed some dick.

“now, if you aren’t gonna have sex with me and please me then move. i’ll go to johnny or something, i don’t know?” the mention of johnnys name triggers jaehyun.

he walks closer to you, towering over you with dark eyes. “get your ass in the bedroom now. i want you naked and your legs spread out.” as you turn around, grin forms on your face.

your plan had worked.

you threw your bag on the floor and climbed on the bed with the help of jaehyun. “ugh, i hate our bed.” you groan.

he smacks your ass making you strip in a hurry. he climbs into bed and sits against the headboard. “sit.” he says holding his hard cock up while stroking it softly.

you crawled towards him and slowly sank yourself down on his cock with his help. “careful.” he chanted quietly while looking up at you.

silently, he read your face. discomfort. it had been weeks since he’s last filled you up. you felt yourself stretching around him. “jae—“ you gasp, and he pinches your hips.

“now, you’re gonna sit on my cock until eight. got it?” you frown at his demand. “but, jae—?” he tuts. “no buts, you greedy slut.” you look down with shame.

guess your plan didn’t work out as much as you though it did.

“isn’t this what you wanted, slut? to have your pretty pussy filled with my fat dick?” you nod, tears prickling from the corners of your eyes. “so fucking take it.” you nod again this time whimpering.

all over again, it was just like the first time you and him had sex. just, he was sweeter before.

“doesn’t that feel good, baby? having my fat dick fill up your tight pussy.” you moan, wanting to move your hips but jaehyun holds you down. “who said you can move, huh? getting greedy.” you pout with a whimper.

“that’s not fair—?” he spanks you making you wince. “shut up and take my cock.” he spits.

minutes go by and your legs practically give out on you. cramping and becoming sore. “jae, my legs.. they hurt so much.” jaehyun scoffs at your whines.

“nothing pleases you, huh?” he smirk becoming cocky. “i just.. want you to fuck me.. please?” jaehyun hums, taunting you by taking his time of thinking of an answer.

“please, fuck me jae? i..” jaehyun lurches when hearing your sobs. “just.. want to be fucked, jae.” your tears dripping onto his chest.

seconds go by and you grew impatient. “just fuck me, jae!” you cry out before that turns into a gasp. your body being slammed onto the bed after demanding to be fucked.

“oh, fuck you? you want me to fuck you, baby? i’ll fuck you, i’ll fuck you good.” he voice croaks as his cock angrily rams into you.

his abs rubbing against your belly as he grinds his hips against yours. “y—yes, so full.” you moan, reaching above you and grasping weakly on the headboard.

“my pregnant slut.. six months pregnant and she can’t get enough dick that got her knocked up.” he chuckles, grinding his hips.

his hips moving smoothly, rocking and making his tip slip past your g-spot. “jae.. cumming.” you whisper, reaching for his hand.

jaehyun looks down when feeling a hand down his abdomen. “cumming already? so soon, baby. go on, cum.” jaehyun grunts, face scrunching when you clench around him.

jaehyun doesn’t give you a warning when he suddenly busts in you. when he pulls out, you whine at the sudden lost of being filled. “noo,” your lip pouting up.

“again.. more.. i want more.” you sit up, hands grabbing his. “more?” he smirks, leaning forward and placing a kiss in your lips.

“turn around.” he demands.

second round, just as you wanted

[p-taryn-dactyl]

hi, i saw your post about requests for agatha being open- may i request an agatha oneshot where its just a soulmate au? for example the one where they´re connected with a red string that turns purple when they meet or the one where they both see the same color (purple) and then its just enemies to lovers ("oh, its you" *annoyed tone*) and then it just turns into lovers ya know and maybe a bit of spice (idk if you´re comfy with writing smut, if not that´s totally valid) have a great day, bye! :))

Ik i said this would be posted ~yesterday but last night i had an emotional breakdown lol a/n: god I’m the worst. I freaking love the whole red string soulmate au and idk why this took me so long to finish. Hopefully you still like this even tho its been FOREVER I’m so sorry :( also i tried to make this funny but honestly think i rushed it. anyways - i still enjoyed writing this <3 thx for requesting (i promise i love getting requests but sometimes i look at them and go “omg i can’t wait to read that” and then a few days weeks later I’m like “oh wait, i have to write it”) word count: 1k warning(s): my writing; this is actually bad im so sorry

Btw, i am not really comfortable writing smut. Maybe soon ill be able to writing smexy scenes without laughing my head off at myself :)

Oh Red String of Fate

Soulmates were a very tricky thing. Once someone thought they had discovered all there was to this phenomenon, a new wonderful flourish of mystery appeared. For instance, it was previously thought that once you met your soulmate, the red string tied around your ring finger would turn a different color.

Apparently, in your case, you were special. The universe decided to share your soulmate with you at the worst possible moment. Because it was nice like that.

———————————���—————————————————————

Agatha Harkness could only be described as a pain in your ass. You had met the witch during a particularly tough battle and while you were sweating buckets trying to defeat the monster attacking New York (why was it always New York?), Agatha sat off to the side in a lawn chair, on the sidewalk, pointing out obvious things like:

“Watch out for that building!”

“Oohh so close…”

“Come on darling, we’re all rooting for you!”

(It must be noted she was wearing sunglasses, it was a cloudy day, and sipping a piña colada)

Ever since then, she had taken it upon herself to seemingly make your life a living hell. If you went to fight a villain, she was there. If you took out one bad guy, she took out five. Constantly outdoing you, constantly bragging.

So, one day, today, when you were called in for a mission, you expected her constant annoying pestering.

You definitely weren’t expecting this.

The mutant you were fighting had the ability to manipulate gravity and was currently attempting to use said ability to turn the Empire State into a shish kabob. Stealthy, you had snuck up behind him, your own powers buzzing in your palms when he sent out a blast of anti gravity, throwing you off and sending you flying out into the sky. Since your powers didn’t include that of flight, you were certain your next act would to crash into the side walk. After you closed your eyes to brace yourself, you felt a warmth surrounding you. You opened your eyes to see purple light holding you in place, hundreds of feet in the air. Arms soon wrapped around you, making you spin your head around. Agatha smirked.

“Honey, if you wanted me to hold you, all you had to do was ask-”

She cut herself off, looking down at your hand. You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion, one at her bewildered look and two at her silence, and looked to where she was looking. What you saw made your heart practically stop beating.

The red strings attached to both of your ring fingers stretched out, braiding into each other while shifting into a dark purple. Agatha raised her eyes to examine your face as you took in this new information. When you looked up, your eyes were a mix of a blank expression and one of panic.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

—————————————————————————————————

The end of the battle came quickly as Agatha knocked out the mutant and begrudgingly returned the Empire State Building back to it’s original spot. Before you could even blink, you were poofed away. Startled, you stumbled backwards, your legs hitting a couch, causing you to collapse into the cushions. Agatha appeared next to you, wearing casual clothing as the leaned on the arm of the couch, her eyes examining you. For some reason, you found yourself blushing under her intense gaze. Agatha cocked her head to the side, raising her left hand up to show the soulmate string.

“So…”

You didn’t say anything, your posture rigid as you turned your head to stare at her wall.

“Honey, you need to look at me when I’m talking to you.” Agatha snapped, her voice void of the humor she used around you. Purple magic wrapped around your head, turning your gaze back to her. You sighed, rolling your eyes as you crossed your arms and leaned back into the couch.

“Look, Agatha, we don’t need to do anything about this. We can just go along our normal lives, forget that the universe made a mistake, and find partners who we don’t feel like strangling-”

The purple magic came to press on your mouth, silencing you. You also felt the warmth of Agatha’s magic wrapping around your wrists, holding them in place. The witch stood up from her place on the couch, only to stand in front of you. You looked up at her, watching as her blue eyes stared down at you. She then leaned forward, placing a hand on either side of you, her face inches away from yours. You cursed your heart for speeding up, revealing thoughts and feelings you had tried to bury from the beginning. You had always found her beautiful, too beautiful, that’s one of the reasons why you were so annoyed with her. Oh and the constant sarcastic, flirty, remarks-

Oh.

Something clicked inside your mind, memories playing like a movie montage in your mind. Aside from the first time you met, Agatha wasn’t being purposely annoying, she was flirting with you. And your oblivious ass chose violence instead.

“Darling, in case the little purple string on our fingers didn’t send the message clear enough, you’re mine. And I don’t intend on sharing.”

Her cold tone sent shivers down your spine and you nodded, your mind still blown by the idea she could actually like-like you. The magic on your mouth and wrists disappeared and Agatha stood up straight again, preparing to walk out of the room due to your silence.

“Agatha!” You blurted out, standing up quickly. The witch turned to your direction, her eyes boring into you as you fiddled with your fingers.

“I don’t think- I mean I guess,” you huffed at your inability to form words as Agatha stalked closer to you, a predatory look growing in her eyes, “God damn it I have a crush on you,” You whispered not so quietly as the realization hit you like a train, “So maybe you don’t have to…share…”

You trailed off at Agatha’s closeness, your back now hitting the wall as she caged you in. A smile, genuine and beautiful, grew on her face as she leaned in, chuckling.

“Oh red string of fate.”

a/n: to the anon who requested this - consider this my apology for how crappy this is. don’t get me wrong, your prompt was gold i just think i failed although i had so much fun writing this <3, I’m sorry if it’s disappointing.