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ilsanslut · 11 months

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TREAT YOU BETTER! [2]

♰ featuring: itoshi sae + itoshi rin [blue lock]

♰ note: do i even need to mention how anticipated this part was? i will mention though, that it did take me quite some time to write this and i tried to proofread it to the best of my ability, but i do apologize if there are some minor errors. lastly, sorry for putting it off for so long due to my hiatus, i hope you all enjoy!

sypnosis: the itoshi brothers punish you for your 'infidelity'. wc: 6.5k content/trigger warning(s): 18+. fem/fem-bodied reader. POST BLUE LOCK. rin is 19. sae is 21. sibling rivalry. implied thick/chubby!reader. EXTRA MEAN!RIN. possessive!rin. cocky!sae. bully!itoshi brothers. they are both assholes in this fic. PRIOR MENTIONS OF CHEATING. degradation. unprotected sex. fingering. squirting. rough sex. DUBIOUS CONTENT. spanking. dacryphilia. slut-shaming. groping. double-penetration. implied size kink. skull/throat-fucking. choking/borderline asphyxiation. minor angst. hair pulling. manhandling. breeding. excessive mentions of drool/spit + rin's focused mode. IMPACT PLAY (face slapping, tit slapping, cock/pussy slapping). basically, they really fuck you up but they swear it’s out of love. aftercare! ꒷꒦

view part one of TREAT YOU BETTER here: part one.

If purgatory was real, you were most certainly in it now. Penalized for your past life's sins and transgressions, you were chained and perched atop a platform before your accusers, between the heavens and the depths of hell. Except now, that platform was Rin’s bed, and the only eyes upon you were his and Sae’s—the latter of which continued to bore into your own as the rhythmic slapping of his hips against your ass refused to cease. And even now, there was that sickening twinkle in his eyes, full of sinister joy as he basked in the warped satisfaction of your psychological suffering. How lovely he found you, those plump tears streaming down your ruined cheeks—if he could, he would frame that photo for his foyer. How your plump brims continued to babble out pleas for him to stop, for him to slow down, to please let you catch your breath so that you could process the situation you found yourself in, but he didn’t. He wouldn’t. Not until you creamed around his cock in front of your pretty lil’ boyfriend, that is.

While you, on the other hand, were currently battling the inner turmoil the two demonic brothers were putting you through. In your head, Rin’s word’s played on a loop like a broken record, plagued to repeat that same damned phrase over and over again. ‘You told me you would wait, Nii-chan.’

They plotted against you, laid out the trap, and like the oblivious bunny you are, you stumbled right into the wolf’s den.

“Y’see this, Rinnie~?” Sae drawled breathlessly, using his free hand that wasn’t holding your hair to cup your jaw, manipulating your head in his sibling’s direction while he placed his chin atop your shoulder. Forced to once again meet the eyes of your lover, you would immediately notice the contemptuous and repulsed glare he used to stab into you like a searing, hot iron blade straight into your heart. But you could never miss the desire beneath his teal eyes—desire that almost turned his current enmity for you into lust. Should you venture to cast your eyes any lower, you would also observe the brewing tent inside his sweatpants, pushing the fabric to its absolute limit.

“What d’you think is making poor Y/N cry like this, hm? The fact that she’s been caught in her infidelity or this fat cock pummeling her tight cunt?” You could feel Sae’s wolfish grin against your flesh as he spoke, dragging sharp canines across the skin of your shoulder as his own teal oculars met his brother’s.

“Both.” Rin stated bluntly before his expression would twist sourly, his upper lip curling into a sneer while his eyes narrowed on you with malicious intent. “Though if I were to guess, I bet it’s your cock since she’s a little cockslut who can’t be satisfied with just one man’s dick.” He spat as he reached his hand up to undo the zipper on his windbreaker, pulling it down slowly to reveal his equally, if not more, built form than Sae’s.

“Oh~” Sae jeered much to your chagrin, slowing the pace of his hips so he could press himself flush against your ass and languidly hump his cock into you. Unfortunately, you were unable to keep your delighted mewls from slipping past your brims as his thick cock caressed your fluttering walls. “Y’hear that, princess? Even your boyfriend thinks that you’re a cock-addicted whore.” He used his grip on your hair and chin to mockingly shake your head back and forth, feigning pity in his tone to add more fuel to your smoldering fire.

He leaned into your ear, soft lips pressing right against your lobe as his teeth captured the soft flesh between his teeth, snarling lowly. “How d’you think he’d feel knowing that you were about to make a mess on my cock, huh?”

Amidst your whimpers and pleasured mewls, you frantically shook your head, trying your hardest to deny the accusation as Rin’s fixed glare on you only grew more scrutinizing. “M’not, m’not gonna—!” On the contrary, your body would deny your vehement retorts made prevalent by your quivering thighs, heightened moans, and the sinful way your walls clung to Sae's cock.

“Don’t fucking lie to me” Sae hissed in your ear, releasing his grip on your chin to quickly swat the fattened flesh of your breast, drawing a squeal from your lips. “Y’don’t think I can’t feel this greedy cunt sucking me in? Trying to milk me of everything I have, huh?”

“N-No! Ngh~! Sae, I-I can’t—”

Your cries were silenced when an opposing hand would soon grip your chin, forcing your gaze to meet the second set of teal eyes belonging to none other than Rin. He glowered down at you, his blunt nails digging into the soft flesh of your cheeks. Even with your strong reluctance to acknowledge it, Rin's intense gaze was enough to make you clamp harder around Sae.

“Cum on his cock, Y/N.” He ordered, his voice barely above a twisted growl. “It’s the only thing pretty sluts like you are good at, right?” His grip loosened for naught but a second to drag the pad of his thumb across your drooling and babbling brims. “Unless, you’re not . . . care to try and prove me wrong?”

You tried—you really, really tried—to hold back your orgasm, to prove Rin wrong, but the tantalizing way Sae pounded his length into you was intoxicating—tainting your mind with one need and one need only—your release. Your fists pounded against Sae's thighs behind you, trying to get midfeilder off of you, or at the very least to slow down—but it was futile. Your back rumbled from the vibrations in Sae's chest as he chuckled, his forearm caging itself around your neck and the crease of his other forearm pulling back his balled fist to effectively lock you in an unforgiving headlock, depriving your brain of precious oxygen. With your resolve all but diminished, you finally came undone before both your boyfriend and his elder brother.

All you could see was white as your vision blurred and your body seized as the coil in your tummy snapped, allowing your juices to flow out of you, fruitfully drenching both your and Sae's lower halves as well as the sheets beneath you. Your cries and pleas of euphoria filled the room, drowning out the lewd and now wet smacking sounds of Sae's pelvis against your ass, as well as he and his brother's mocking jeers. Without both of their grips on your body, you would have collapsed from the sheer intensity of it all, your body going limp as the ferocity of your orgasm nearly knocked you unconscious.

“Fuck yeah,” Sae groaned into your ear, though you were barely able to register it as he fucked you through your orgasm. “That’s it; that’s the stuff. Ngh, fuck. M’gonna cum too, gonna fill your pretty pussy to the brim.” He grunted as his thrusts grew sloppy from his impending orgasm.

But it never came. At least, not in the way you expected it.

At the last second before Sae finally came inside of you, your body cruelly hit the sheets as you were no longer supported by the strength of both men. On top of that, you suddenly felt horribly empty as the midfielder’s cock was wrenched out of you, leaving you to clench around nothing—though you were hardly in any state to utter a rebuttal.

In your daze, you heard the sounds of a struggle and Sae's enraged shout as you writhed between the sheets and something hot shot against your ass cheeks and lower back. Groggily, you mustered enough strength to push yourself up onto your elbows to glance over your shoulder, only to see a fucked-out and infuriated Sae forced back onto his haunches as Rin held his light auburn locks in a vice grip, equally, if not more, irate than his elder.

“What the fuck, Nii-chan.” Rin snarled, tugging Sae by his locks as if to enunciate his anger. “I thought we agreed that you weren’t allowed to cum inside of her, so what the fuck was that, huh?”

At first, Sae remained silent and merely opted to match Rin's glower with a quiet one of his own. Your weary eyes slid down, taking in his semi-hard cock that rested against his toned thighs, strings of yours and his arousal clinging to his girth, the thick lifts and falls of his chest, and the sweat trickling down his abs. Then your eyes shifted to Rin, where you noted the hardness of his angrily-clenched jaw, the furious downward pull of his thick brows over his captivating teal eyes, blazing with anger and betrayal, and the undeniable bulge that tugged at the material of his sweatpants.

The way your pussy clenched around nothing at the sight was unavoidable.

They were both too fucking hot for your own good.

“It’s not my fault that her greedy fuckhole wouldn’t let me go.” Sae snapped, smacking Rin’s fist from his locks. “And besides. . .” Something sinister arose on his features, tainting his expression with the need to torment the forward. “You heard her, didn’t you? She likes the way my cock fucks her more than yours anyway.”

You could hear a pin drop in the silence that followed after Sae’s bombshell of a statement. As you lay there, your heart raced, and a sense of unease washed over you, causing a pit of guilt to form in the pits of your tummy. Rin said nothing in response, staggering back from his brother with an incredulous and infuriated look before his face twisted into a maddened snarl, which Sae countered with a smug look. Had you looked even further, you could see the aura of their monstrous egos swirling around them, threatening to rip one another limb from limb.

“You motherfucker.” He growled, fists clenching with pure unadulterated rage as he lunged for his sibling yet again, only this time, you stepped in.

“Rin, stop!” You shouted, lunging forward to grab your boyfriend’s wrist before he could get his hands on Sae once more.

Rin's focus finally shifted to you, his eyes wide as clarity dawned on him for a moment, before the disdain and anger he felt for you at the time zeroed in on your form, immobilizing you where you kneeled. His fury was like a searing wave. It washed over you in that instant, and it was so intense that it made your knees weaken and your heart race. You’d seen him look at others like this before, but never directed at you before. His opponents, Isagi Yoichi, Shidou Ryusei, and even Sae on occasions, sure, but you? Never before in your life.

“You.” His tone was gutteral and animalistic, unlike anything you’d ever heard from Rin before.

Sae took advantage of the situation at that precise moment to slide off the mattress and out of dodge, but not before giving you a knowing wink and a sly look. Rin didn’t even seem to react to this. In fact, now that Sae was out of the picture, his arm dropped to his side, and you became the new target of his wrath.

It was as though you were peering into the eyes of a savage beast—of a starving lion who had finally cornered a gazelle who continuously fled and eluded the beast from her fate. Before you could react, Rin’s hands were on you, a strong hand wrapped around your neck to lift you from your haunches and into a proper kneeling position so that he could glower at you at eye level.

“Don’t you think for a second, Y/N, that you’re innocent in all of this.” He was seething, hissing through clenched teeth as you could feel his breath wafting over your frightened visage. “You know, the only reason that I returned home early from my jog was because Nii-chan told me that he had just arrived home? Do you know that it only took me ten minutes to come back after that?” You could feel his grip trembling in your veins, like he was holding himself back from lashing out at you further. "You mean to tell me that it only took him 600 seconds to strip you down and fuck you stupid on his cock in the mere minutes that he was here, huh? For you to forget your loyalty and love for me in only 10 minutes, Y/N?"

Tears that you hadn’t even realized had begun to spill streamed down your cheeks. Your heart ached with the knowledge that your actions had shattered trust and betrayed the trust of someone who had placed faith in you. In the midst of your tears, you struggled to find the right words to express the depths of your remorse. You wanted to take back your choices and undo the damage you had done, but you knew that you couldn't erase the past. It was far too late for that.

“But you know what,” Rin continued, his grip on your throat as well as his expression softening. “I’m not mad.” He whispered, his voice suddenly sincere. His hand left your neck entirely in favor of stroking your hair lovingly with his other caressing your cheek, a stark contrast to the unbridled wrath he had displayed toward you only moments before.

You blinked, dumbfounded. But you could not help but lean into his tenderness and crave his affection after such a strenuous situation, especially when he offered such gentle touches and words.

“Y-You’re not?” You whispered, your voice hopeful, as tears welded up in your eyes for a different reason now—out of joy.

Rin shook his head with the faintest of smiles on his face. “I’m not . . .” His tone remained soft, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead that you found yourself falling into. Almost immediately, you were melting into him, graceful for your boyfriend’s compassion.

“I’m furious.”

In an instant, a switch had flipped, and once again, Rin turned the tables on you. Before you could respond, his fist became unbearably tight at the crown of your hair, pulling mercilessly at the roots before he tugged your gaze to meet his, ablaze with fury. Now, it was your turn to look betrayed as your pretty eyes widened with both incredulity and fear as you gaped at your lover and the sinister look in his eye.

“But don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll feel much, much better after I blow some steam off by using your pretty body.”

You could barely manage a squeal as you were soon manhandled atop Rin's bed until you were lying on your back with your head hanging over the edge. Your vision turned upside down, and you craned your neck to look up at Rin, who was busy ridding himself of his sweatpants and boxers until he was finally able to tug free his painfully hard cock right above your face. Your mouth watered at the sight of your lover’s well-endowed length at its full mast, thick, hot, and sweltering with a vein bulging along its otherwise smooth underside. His blushed tip drooled with pre, which he used to lube his hand as he pumped himself above you, unable to keep his gaze from wandering over your lewd, plump, and womanly body.

“Fuck,” He swore as he tossed his head back, allowing you to watch as his balls clenched and length twitched from the wave of pleasure that overcame him.

You noticed movement in the space between Rin's muscular thighs as you watched Sae sit in Rin's desk chair behind him, one arm resting on the arm rest while the other languidly stroked his semi-hard cock and one leg resting atop the other at the ankle. When he caught your gaze, he shot you a wolfish smirk, using your slick to roll his thumb around his reddened tip.

“Don’t look at me, princess. Look at your pretty boyfriend.”

At his command, your gaze rose, only to see Rin using his thumb to spread your lips and guide his cock into the warmth of your mouth. As you took inch by inch into your throat, you could hear your lover groaning above you, swearing something about you swallowing him down like it was nothing. Though it really wouldn’t be a punishment if he made things easy for you, would it?

Soon, he reached the hilt of your throat, and his balls were firmly nestled against your nose, allowing you to inhale his salty yet pleasant musk. Both of his large palms reached down to grab the sides of your head before his hips began to thrust himself in and out of your tight cavern, gradually picking up his pace until he was pistoning in and out of you without mercy. You spluttered and gagged, your eyes squeezing shut as you focused on breathing through your nose when you could as his balls pummeled relentlessly into your nose, making sure to smother you with his heavy orbs each time.

“Hngh, shit, Y/N!” Rin swore, his eyes torn between fixating on the sinful bounce of your large breasts from his unrelenting thrusts or the way his girth bulged your throat every time he bottomed out inside of you. “Taking this dick like it’s nothing, huh?” Rin hissed through clenched teeth as he grabbed both of your breasts in his palms and delivered merciless squeezes. “This is what sluts like you were made for, hm? Swallowing down cocks with no efforts, draining them of every last drop?” He paused, tossing his head back to groan as his balls churned beneath him. He had been pent up for so long that he knew he wouldn’t last any longer. “Never content with just one man’s dick inside of you, always craving more . . Fuck~!"

As 'effortlessly' as he described you accepting his length and brutish treatment, you still needed to breathe, which was proving to be an impossible task as his thrusts became more animalistic and sloppy. The harsh sounds of his tip bullying the end of your throat resonated off of the room, the wet “glrk, glrk, glrks” filling your ears and making your cheeks burn at the vulgarity of it all. Your hands reached up to his muscular thighs, seeking purchase from his lethal thrusts, only to have both of your wrists seized in one large hand and pinned atop your breasts. His other hand went to your nose and tightly pinched it, effectively stopping your only source of life—breathing—and adding to his savagery. The distinct pleasure moans he once emitted had devolved into almost feral snarls and grunts, as if you were being ravaged by a beast rather than your typically stoic boyfriend.

“Take it, fuckin’ take it.” He spat as his hips stuttered. Then, without warning, he pressed himself against your face, the base of his cock hilting at your lips as his balls smushed flush against your nose, further deepening your struggle to breathe. You soon found yourself preoccupied with not choking as Rin's hot, steaming cum shot down your throat, forcing you to swallow it all down. That did not stop you from flailing beneath Rin, though, and he effortlessly wrangled you down and made you take rope after rope of his seed into your spasming throat.

You whined aloud, attempting to yell out to him that if he didn’t let up, you were about to pass out, but it was clear that he didn’t give a damn if you remained conscious or not. That is, until a few more agonizing seconds passed and black spots started to obscure your vision when Rin freed himself from your throat, his semi-hard shaft hanging over your face with strings of your saliva and his seed still clinging to his length.

You gasped for air, greedily gulping down sweet, sweet breaths of pure oxygen, and your lungs were more than thankful for the reprieve. Despite your blood pumping furiously in your ears, you could still make out the sound of a chuckle from behind Rin, belonging to none other than Sae.

“Damn, Rinnie. I thought you were going to kill her.” He snickered, still lazily stroking at his dick, which twitched in his palm when your eyes met yet again.

But there was no use concentrating on him, because Rin retreated a few steps and blocked your view once more. Looking up at him with your thoroughly ruined visage, you nearly gasped at the untamed lust swimming within his eyes. It was the same expression he would have when his ego took over on the field—hungry and damn near starving.

“Not yet.”

You felt rough hands grabbing at your body again, tossing you about as though you were a ragdoll, until you found yourself in an all-too-familiar position on your hands and knees. Those same hands seized at your plump hips and snatched you back until your ankles hung off of the bed, forcing a squeal to rip from your lips. Your hips jumped as Rin's blunt cock tip touched your clit, and your toes curled as he gave you several sharp smacks of his cock to your cunt.

“R-Rinnie.” You whimpered, casting a sidelong glance at him, your mouth slightly open in defiance of his actions, pleading for a break, if only to catch your breath before he pummeled you until you couldn’t see straight. However, your voice was cut short when you felt his hands seize a handful of your hair and tug at your head until your back was hard against his chest.

“Sluts don’t talk, Y/N.” He spat against your cheek. “They moan, get their pussies used, their throats fucked, and only say, 'Yes, sir, give me more.’ Do you understand me?”

You nodded silently, knowing that trying to talk sense into his head when he was acting this way was a fruitless endeavor.

“Good girl.” His lips brushed against your cheek in a fleeting kiss. “I don’t want to hear another word out of your mouth unless it’s begging me for me, understood?”

With the knowledge that answering out loud would be foolish, you nodded once more, suppressing a startled cry as he quickly brought you back down into his sheets, pressing your back into an almost painful arch with his hand planted firmly on your head. Rin seized his cock and sank it inch by inch into your tight cunt, evoking deep, guttural keens from you both without saying another word. He gave you a breathy, arousing laugh that curled your toes. He couldn’t believe that after all of this, your pretty pussy still proceeded to greedily suckle his cock as though it just couldn’t get enough.

He gave you no time to respond before he launched into his ferocious pace, pouring all of his anger, contempt, and hatred toward you into your abused hole in a way that left you feeling nothing but pure euphoria. Shouts and high-pitched cries of pleasure tore from your throat against your better judgment, partially muffled by the sheets he forced your head into. Your head was spinning, and your thoughts were focused only on how deliciously Rin pounded into you. His cock's mouth-watering curve made your thighs tremble and your knees weaken beneath you as he relentlessly pounded into your sweet spot. Observing your shaking limbs, Rin steadied your hips with both of his hands, using his improved grip to thrust more deliberately into your cunt, his thick girth bottoming out inside of you each time.

“Look a’that” Rin drawled breathlessly amidst the rhythmic clapping of his pelvis against your ass, the vulgar bouncing off of the walls. “My dick is so good you just can’t shut the fuck up, huh?”

“Ah, yes, yes, God, yes, Rin~!” You babbled, unable to stop the tears of ecstasy that squeezed from your pretty eyes.

“—But you love Nii-chan’s dick more than mine, right?”

Suddenly his ferocious pace turned into lackadaisical humps, ruining what immense pleasure had been building up within you and corrupting your mind with the need for more. You whined, one partially in desperation and the other in frustration. You moved your hips, trying to fuck yourself on Rin's cock, while craning your neck to get a better look at your boyfriend. Rin was no idiot, though. Having already sensed your intentions, his grip steeled on your hips, preventing you from moving further, much to your vexation.

“Ah, ah, Y/N.” Rin chided, the faintest hint of a smug smirk tugging at the corners of his lips with his eyes narrowed in amusement. He firmly pressed your ass against his hips, circling his length inside of you with agonizingly slow hip rotations that taunted you with just enough stimulation that it left you mewling for more. “Answer me first, you needy bitch.” A gleam of sadism twinkled in his eye, making your heart lurch in his chest at how closely he resembled his brother.

“N-No, God, Rin.” You whispered breathlessly, shaking your head in an attempt to think clearly amidst your cockdrunk haze. However, each subtle rotation of his hips against your ass stirred your thoughts in a way that only muddied them further. “I love your cock more, I-I swear—”

“—So you’re a cheater, a whore, and a dirty little liar, Y/N?”

Your breath hitched in your throat, pushing yourself up from the mattress to now see Sae standing in front of you, glowering down at you with the same, if not more, sadistic gleam in his eye. Not daring to break your gaze from his own, you watched through your peripheral vision as his fists pumped his hard shaft only mere inches away from your face.

“Here I was, thinking you had more shame than this.” Sae huffed, clicking his tongue as his thumb stroked over your swollen bottom lip. “Yet here you are, so desperate for yet another cock in your drooling fuckhole that you’d do anything—even lie—just to relive the feeling of having what’s left of your pretty lil’ brains fucked out, right?”

“I—I . . .”

Resonably, you were at a loss for words, but there was no need to worry as Rin spoke up for you, “And you can’t even answer him? Pathetic. I bet if we let all of those lukewarm fuckfaces from Blue Lock run a train on you, you’d love every second of it, huh, princess?” He further accentuated his point with a hard, trained thrust deep into your womb. You swear he even grazed your cervix.

“No, no! I-I only want you, Rin. I only want you, I love you!”

You squeezed your eyes shut, and, although you were oblivious to it, the brothers shared a look with one another. Their silence was deafening, and even Rin’s hips had stilled within you. However, before you were able to voice your confusion, you would feel sharp, phallic taps against your cheek. You didn’t even have to open your eyes to know what it was.

“Good girl.” Sae cooed condescendingly as though he were talking to a mutt worthy of praise.

“Probably the most truthful statement you said all night,” Rin followed, albeit far quieter than his sibling as his thrusts once again resumed, drawing tantalizing moans from your lips. “Then tell me after this, which one of us fucks you better, yeah? And don’t you dare.” He paused, using his large hand to rain down a set of smacks on both of your pillowy ass cheeks forcing a cry to rip from your lips. “Dream of lying to me.”

You nodded as best you could against the force of Sae pressing his cock against your face, using his thumb to hold his length taut as he literally fucked your face with it. Immediately, Rin’s brutal pace resumed again. Using his newly acquired leverage and his bruising grip on your hips, he pressed his foot against the mattress next to your knee and proceeded to fuck himself deeper into you. It felt like he was trying to pry you open with each thrust. Had it not been for Sae taking the opportunity to shove his cock into your mouth the moment you opened it to muffle your cry of ecstasy, you were certain that the neighbors would’ve thought you were being murdered.

In a way, though, it was almost like you were.

It was like you were being sandwiched between two killers, only instead of making you feel agony, they were both hellbent on delivering the most utmost pleasure to you—Rin rearranging your guts from behind and Sae feeding you inch after inch of his thick cock, neither one of them stopping until they were satisfied with having your belly pumped full of their cum.

My, the Itoshi brothers were truly the devil, weren’t they?

“Hngh, fuck. F-Fuck!” Rin snarled from behind you, his once quiet moans now morphing into beastly grunts and animalistic growls. You were certain that the blunt tips of his nails were now slicing into you from his strength, one of his hands dragging down your lower back to leave reddened marks in their wake until they marked your rippling ass, which was soon pelted with a few more furious swats.

“Stupid cumslut, grippin’ me so fuckin’ tight.” His voice grew raspy as his head tossed back in euphoria, carnal pants and heaves ripping from his throat so frequently that it almost did feel like you were being ravaged by a beast.

It was to the point where Sae's cock was slipping out of your mouth in favor of his palms holding your cheeks, and turning your head to look over your shoulder at your lover. Though still as eager for his release as Rin was, he continued to thrust his cock lazily against your face and pillowy brims.

“My god, princess. Look at what you’re turning him into.”

It was a sight to behold—one that you had only witnessed for yourself once before at the Blue Lock vs. U-20 game. Rin’s brows were raised, and his teal oculars were wide, swirling with untamable lust and desire as though he were being consumed by it. His lips were parted, his jaw dropped partially as his tongue dangled out of his mouth, and globs of crystalline drool pooled over his pink muscle, oozing down his chin and onto your abused cheeks below. He wasn’t looking at you. (You don’t know if you would be able to handle it if he did.) Instead, his gaze engrossed itself in the way your ass plapped against his pelvis, the sticky lines of your juices, and his drool connecting the two of you in a way that was beyond intimate. He was intoxicated, thoroughly pussy-drunk as the only thought in his mind was, ‘Get pregnant, get pregnant, get Y/N fucking pregnant.’

The sight alone was so arousing that you couldn’t help the way your pussy clenched around his cock, strangling it further to the point where a near feral snarl ripped through his now clenched teeth, bared at you in ferocity.

“Don’t fucking do that, fucking bitch.” He snapped, delivering another smack to your ass as his gaze finally raised to meet your own, promising lethality.

“M’sorry! I-I’m sorry, Rinnie!” You wailed against Sae’s cock as Rin’s hips slammed into you with such malice that you felt your legs going numb from the overwhelming pleasure.

“No th’fuck you’re not.” He slurred, just as drunk on the stimulation as you were. “This is what the fuck you’ve wanted this entire time, isn’t it? Wanted me to fuck you up? Make you scream from my ngh! From my cock ruining your pretty little pussy, isn’t it?”

“Y-Yes! God, yes, yes, Rin, please fuck me up more!”

“Yeah? Y’want me to put a pretty baby in you? Want me to make you a mommy, Y/N? Make that gorgeous tummy swollen with my kids, yeah?”

“Y-Yes, please! Please, please, make me a mommy! M-make me yours!”

“Silly, girl.” He snarled, delivering another quick swat to your ruined ass. “You were always mine.”

The idea of filling you to the brim with his seed and claiming you in a way that no man could ever claim—as the mother of his children—caused his erratic pace to falter and grow sloppier by the minute.

“Mine.” He growled. “Mine, mine, all fucking mine!”

Then, almost in perfect unison—pristine synchronization—you came together. Hips smothered firmly against your ass, he pumped rope after rope of his hot, thick cum inside of you, aiming deep into your womb with every intention of impregnating you. While you, on the otherhand, were unable to hold yourself up any longer, collapsing on the mattress as your orgasm washed over you. A barrage of your sweet juices fired over Rin’s cock, pelvis, thighs, and the poor sheets beneath you. Before you had any time to regain your bearings, you felt another tap on your cheek of the same phallic length from earlier.

“You forgot about me, pretty? C’mon, open that mouth for me one more time, yeah?”

Exhausted, you did as he asked without resistance, allowing your jaw to fall slack just enough for Sae to slip his cock into it. In a few pumps with his fist, the midfilder gladly fed you thick ropes of his seed, painting your mouth with his sticky release, which you wearily sucked down.

Then, unceremoniously, the two brothers collapsed beside you atop the ruined sheets.

The three of you lay there, completely depleted of all that you possessed. You were unquestionably the worst of the three, with deep teeth marks, scratches from blunt nails, bruises from fingerprints, and splotches of darkening hickies all over your body. Had anyone known any better, you appeared as though you had been mauled by savages—those very same savages who lay exhausted beside you.

After several much needed beats of deep silence, you felt the stirring of both of them pushing themselves up from the bed, and hands that were once so rough and unforgiving on your body were now handling you with the utmost care as though you were a porcelain doll made of the finest glass. As you walked the thin line bordering consciousness and unconsciousness, you felt warm, moist towels caressing your thighs, chest, and forehead, ridding you of any filth that tainted your once-supple skin. The sheets that had become beyond soiled from all of your fluids were gently lifted from beneath you and replaced with warm ones that had just come out of the dryer that had been running before Sae arrived. Just as you were about to fall asleep, your body was manipulated once more, this time into another equally warm one, causing your heavy lids to flutter open to focus on none other than your boyfriend—Rin's teal oculars.

“You still with me?” He inquired, his previously harsh tone softening to gentle and tender, as if speaking any louder would shatter your fragility.

You nodded weakly, seeking solace in his warmth and soft body, snuggling your petite frame into his. Rin quietly returned the favor, running his fingers through your hair and giving you occasional massages in the spots where he and Sae got too rough with you.

Speaking of, you heard Rin's door open and saw Sae standing in front of you, adorning a pair of black designer boxers.

“Here.” The midfeilder said plainly, passing a miniature carton of strawberry milk your way with a straw poked through the center.

Clearly in no position to receive such generosity, Rin accepted it for you, gently maneuvering you into a position where you could comfortably sip the much needed liquid into your dehydrated body. As you did so, Rin’s head rested atop your own, but not before he placed a tender, sweet kiss on your forehead full of love, unlike the one from earlier that was meant to lure you into a false sense of security. This is exactly what you needed after such arduous affairs, being held in your lover’s strong arms while enjoying the best strawberry milk you’ve ever had.

What should’ve been a cute moment was interrupted by Sae, who, with a look of disgust on his features, stated, “You two are disgusting.”

“Fuck you too, Nii-chan.” Rin shot over his shoulder, not missing the way Sae gave him the finger on his way out as he slammed his room door shut, leaving you and Rin in what should have been a comfortable silence.

But it was hampered by the sense of ambiguity that pervaded your relationship. The weight of past transgressions and tribulations weighed upon you both so heavily that it was nearly suffocating, threatening to take you both alive if it wasn’t for—

“I’m sorry.” The two of you stated in unison before, rather comically, whipping your heads to stare at one another, bewildered.

“Y/N.” Rin sighed heavily, shaking his head in denial. “You shouldn’t be the one apologizing. I should be. I made it seem like everything was all your fault when it was really Sae and I’s.” Another sigh drew from his lips as the realization dawned on him of the agreement he had made with his older brother to allow them to share you, one, without your prior consent, and two, without your knowledge. Not to mention, pinning the entire thing on you as though you were the infidelious one here.

“Y-Y/N.” His voice quivered. His gaze, too ashamed to look at you any further, drew to the ceiling. In the bright lights of his room, you watched as his eyes glazed over, tears that he refused to let fall clearly stinging at his irises. His face was etched with anguish; the weight of his actions had hit him like a sledgehammer, and his distress was palpable. “I-I’m sorry.” He whispered, daring himself to glance in your direction.

“Rinnie.” You uttered softly, biting back a wince as your sore arm rose to gently cup his cheek, the pad of your thumb swiping at his waterline to catch a straying tear. He wasn’t too good with words of sincerity, and you knew that—you wouldn’t press him for more. “I forgive you, so please don’t cry.” As you leaned in to give him a soft peck on the jaw, you noticed that you also felt the familiar sting of tears pricking your eyes. “You’re going to make me cry too, baby.”

Both of you were unable to control the gentle and quiet laughter that jostled your beings. And there it was—the moment of reprieve where the pressure of the unknown was lifted, replaced by a profound sense of reconciliation and renewal. Your eyes met with an intensity that conveyed unspoken apologies, forgiveness, and the promise of a fresh beginning. You two felt more intimate and connected to one another at that precise moment than you had ever experienced.

After you had finally finished the last of your drink, Rin took the empty carton from you and set it on his nightstand. You then proceed to curl into his chest, to which he ensared you in his grasp, entwining your limbs in his. With your head nestled against his chest, the rhythmic beat of his heart soothed you and eased your mind or any lingering parasites. That is when you sensed it: the tranquil siren's song of sleep drawing you deeper and deeper into its pacifying depths.

However, before you could finally embrace slumber’s sweet call, Rin’s soft voice called out to you once more.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

“. . . I love you too, Rinnie.”

#blue lock #blue lock smut #bllk smut #rin itoshi #sae itoshi #bllk imagines #blue lock headcanons #bllk headcanons #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock hcs #rin itoshi smut #sae itoshi smut #vampiiebitez #rin itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x reader

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sunflowersandsapphires · 1 month

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The Art of Persistence

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader

summary: After a long day, you return home to the comfort of your two favorite boys.

warnings: swearing, brief misogyny, Frank being adorable

a/n: For the lovely @zomtart who wanted to see something with Frank and a dog! As always, reblogs and comments fuel my writing!

w/c: 2.1k

“The art of love is largely the art of persistence.” Albert Ellis

Walking through the doors into the bakery, your heart sank. It was going to be a long day, you could smell it on the air. The humidity seeping through the cracks in the doors had made the atmosphere purgatorial. You could feel the heat clouding around you, the air laden with moisture only made stickier by the ovens inside. Blowing a frustrated breath out of your nose, you gave a pleasant nod to your manager as she slunk past you towards her office.

“Good morning to you too,” You muttered, stalking into the back to set down your bag.

You were rapidly approaching your breaking point. Each inhale flooded your senses with the aroma of toasted sesame and melted butter--the combination turning sour after a week of beligerent customers and stressful shifts. If you didn't need the money, you'd have called out. Unfortunately, those precious wages and tips were keeping you afloat right now.

Tossing a thin canvas string over your neck, you secured the flashy red apron around your waist with a tight knot, not minding the line of pain that encircled you as you yanked at the ends. Pinning your worn name tag to your chest, you spun on your heel and headed for the counter.

Today was a new day. It would be busy, Mondays always were, but that didn't mean it would be bad. Right..?

Lamentably, by the time the morning rush had ended and you were finally able to slip into the break room for a moment away from the chaos, you were confident today would be the same as every other day. In a period of three hours, it had all gone to shit. Two of your coworkers had called out, throwing you and the one other reliable employee to the wolves. One particularly aggressive customer had thrown a cup of scalding coffee at you—claiming it was burnt after the tiniest sip you’d ever seen. And, the cherry on top of the crappy day you were having, you'd burnt the shit out of your hand pulling a bagel out of the toaster for a family that wouldn't stop nagging you. Fuck your well-being, they had places to go.

The circulation to your legs was slowly being cut off by the tourniquet you'd accidentally tied your waist in, but you couldn't be bothered to fix it. Staring wearily at your bandaged hand your body trembled with fatigue, discomfort, and residual adrenaline. Pulling out your phone, you positioned it in your good hand, selecting the proper contact and crossing your fingers.

Please pick up, please pick up, please—

“Hey doll, did you need somethin'?” Frank's gruff voice crackled over the line, relief crashing over you as it did. Your body sagged at the question, the idea that you weren't handling it all alone.

“Um, yah, I was wondering if you could take Wes out for me? A handful of people didn't come in so I'm stuck working a shift and a half.” You nibbled at the skin on your bottom lip, hoping Frank wouldn't be annoyed that you asked him to care for your dog again this week.

You'd gotten Wesley as a puppy about a year ago, after a friend found him and his siblings abandoned in a nearby park. He was the last to be adopted, but you just couldn't deny his sweet little face. Unsurprisingly, the pair of you got along swimmingly.

The only problem arose at times like these, when your manager demanded that you stay past your scheduled end time to fulfill someone else's obligations. Wes was a good boy, but he could only hold out for so long without needing to pee or expend some energy. When you weren't there to play fetch or run around the block, you often turned to your partner for help.

You knew Frank adored your rambunctious pup, but the thought of adding more to his plate for any reason always made you guilty. He was busy, he had his own life and job and shit to do. Wes was your responsibility. Frank hadn't signed up for this, nor was he being compensated for his time. You really needed to hire a dog walker or something, that just wasn't an option given your slim budget right now.

“Not a problem, sweetheart. I’ll head to your place when I can. You know when you'll be home?” As always, Frank accepted the burden immediately, without so much as an irritated sigh. His readiness to care for you and your four-legged roommate never failed to sweep you off your feet.

“Around 6, if I'm lucky. I know that's late—” You rubbed at the back of your neck, grimacing as your fingers were met with warm, clammy skin.

“Don't worry about that, doll, you ain't the reason for that.” Frank reasoned, his patience only fueling the flames of guilt swirling around you.

“I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who could be at fault.” You laughed bitterly, swallowing the despair coating your tongue.

“No, you aren't.” Frank protested firmly. “Ain't your fault your boss wants you to stay, babydoll. You're just doin' whatcha can to stay employed. No shame in that.”

Your eyes fell closed as you let out a breath you hadn't meant to hold. Frank's response was tender, effortlessly caring, as if he was there rubbing your back and calming you down. Soothing your doubts with every syllable. He understood the pressure you were under and he never blamed you for it.

“Thank you.” You whispered, the longing you felt to be with him only intensifying as he comforted you from a distance.

“No need to thank me, honey. Just get home safe, yah?” The concerned edge that perpetually lined Frank's words tipped the corners of your lips into a smile.

“Ok.” You promised, bidding him goodbye.

The rest of your day slogged along like a fish attempting to swim through jello. Slow, awkward, and unbelievably messy. Each interaction corroded your dwindling social battery, wearing your patience thin. It took every fiber of your being to not scream right back at the customers as they demanded ridiculous things from you.

Oh your espresso isn’t coming fast enough? Why don’t you come around the counter and make it your damn self.

Rolling your eyes at the annoyed tone of the customer begging for the drink, you pretended not to hear him as you steamed milk for another order.

“Geez bitch, are you deaf?”

You barely registered his muttered comment, but it struck you like a blade anyway. Fist clenching around his cup, your fingernails punctured the cheap, waxy paper, splattering the freshly brewed espresso over your work station.

“Oh no!! I’m so sorry sir, I’ll make you a new one.” Shooting the fuming man your best try at an innocent, I’m-simply-so-ditsy smile, you tossed the ruined cup into a nearby trash can gracefully. With growing satisfaction, you took your sweet time restarting the beverage, hoping the asshole would burn his tongue the second you handed it over.

Shoving the tiny cup across the counter, you cemented your beaming smile in place as the dude snatched it from your grip without a word.

“You’re welcome, asshole.” You muttered as he slammed the door on his way out. A glance to the clock quickly lifted your spirits.

Ten minutes. Ten minutes and the shift from hell would be over. You’d collect your tips and bolt before your supervisor asked for something else.

Behind you, your next problem cleared their throat. Whipping around to face the uptight, blazer-clad woman, you raised an eyebrow. “What can I do for you?”

Fumbling with the keys on your ring, your fingers hadn’t even lined the correct one up with the lock when the bolt thunked, the door sliding open. Standing on the other side of the frame, taking up most of your frame of vision with his broad stature, was Frank.

Tumbling into him, you groaned happily as his giant arms engulfed you, his stomach shaking with a brief laugh.

“Missed you too, sweetheart. We both did.” Pulling back slightly, Frank jerked his head to the wiggling golden retriever who was barely containing his excitement a few paces away.

Squeezing through the door past your hulking boyfriend, you knelt before your ecstatic canine, opening your arms for him to clamber into. Hugging your dog as he wriggled and chirped happily wasn't easy, but it made your heart swell with adoration every time you tried.

The way your dog reacted when you came home from work was nothing less than an ego boost. Poor Wes could never seem to keep still, too overwhelmed with joy and love that his tail swished wildly, shaking his whole body. Once you were within kissing distance, Wesley was determined to slobber all over you, reminding you just how much he'd missed you while you were away. These moments made all the hardship worth it.

Crouching behind you, Frank's hand slid beneath your raised elbow to scratch at Wesley's back, crowding in until you were fully leaning against him. You exhaled, sinking into his chest as he tugged you impossibly closer. Trailing kisses down the side of your face towards your shoulder, Frank rumbled with a chuckle as your dog plopped over the pile of legs, rolling belly up with an open-mouthed smile.

“Try as I might, I don't think I'll ever be the favorite.” Frank remarked, giving Wes a firm rub on his stomach.

“Well, I do feed him.” You snorted, scratching at your dog's ear. “Seems to be the key to both of your hearts.”

“Got that right,” Frank agreed, squeezing you tightly until you giggled. “Did your shift go ok?”

Puffing out a breath, you shrugged, turning your head so he could see your face. “Only got called a bitch once so, I'd say that's a win.”

Scoffing indignantly, Frank scowled. “Gimme a name, sweetheart.”

“Frank,” You groaned, not unhappily. “If I let the Punisher loose on every asshole that came through the shop, we'd have a massacre on your hands.”

“I'd do it anyway. They deserve it, treatin' service workers like that.” Frank grumbled, nuzzling your cheek.

Your hand slid up to the base of his scalp, twisting the edges of his hair in your fingers. “I appreciate it, handsome. But I'm ok, promise.”

“Did ya make good tips at least?” His question was genuine, his expression almost hopeful, but you barked a laugh anyways.

“Take a guess.” Your voice was bitter, thinking of all the ungrateful patrons you'd had in the last twelve hours.

“Hmm,” Frank pondered. “Twenty?”

“Fuck Frankie, I wish.” You rolled your eyes. “Two bucks.”

“You're shittin' me.”

“Unfortunately, my dear, I am telling the god's honest truth.” You laughed humorlessly.

“Two bucks. Fuckin' hell.” Frank scrubbed a hand over his face, clenching his jaw as his anger roiled deep within. “I'm so sorry, doll.”

“Me too, Frankie.” You pouted, feelings of inadequacy mingling with the fear of being utterly stuck in this dead-end job. “I hate asking you to help with Wes every damn day. You deserve better.”

“Hey now, don't you go worryin your pretty little head about me,” Frank scolded gently. “You're the one who don't deserve to be treated this way.”

“Don't have much of a choice, do I?” You wondered aloud, shoulders curling in as you descended back into hopelessness. “I need this job.”

“Then you'll stick with it for now,” Frank proposed. “And I'll help ya find somethin' better in the meantime.”

“You don't have to do that Frank,” You objected, letting him slip out from under you and offer you a hand up.

“I know I don't have to, darlin'. I want to.” Kissing your lips tenderly, Frank cupped your cheek as heat rushed to your face.

“Thank you.” You murmured, chest tightening with emotion.

“Anytime, gorgeous.” Frank winked at you, bringing a smile back to your face.

A piercing squeak caught your attention, drawing it towards the floor where an impatient Wesley displayed a plush toy you didn't recognize.

“Did you buy him a toy?” You asked Frank, knowing grin creeping over your face as the man blushed bright pink, shrugging one shoulder. Bending down, you tugged at the arm of the wooly sheep, pretending that you were grabbing it for yourself until Wesley ran off, squeaking it victoriously.

“Needed somethin' to do and he seemed bored, so we took a walk to the pet store on 45th.” The embarrassed man mumbled, rubbing at his nape and averting his gaze.

“Aw, Frankie,” Winding your arms back around Frank's tree trunk waist, you peppered kisses across his face. ”That's so sweet of you.“

“It's nothin', really,” Frank stated matter-of-factly.

“Sure, tough guy. It's nothin',” You smirked, clenching your arms one final time before gripping his hand. “Come sit, we can order dinner and play with Wes.”

Planting a firm kiss against your hairline, your scalp tickled as Frank smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @pone21 @ignore-mp3 @screechingphantommaker @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @paradox-brody-chase @msjb2002 @vsplanet @pigeonmama

#frank castle #my writing #the punisher #fc #marvel #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle imagine #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #the punisher x reader #the punisher imagine #jon bernthal fanfiction #jon bernthal

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merao-mariposa · 6 months

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There's something I absolutely love about the eggs' sibling dynamics is how they've changed.

Tallulah went from being the little girl that everyone had to look after and protect to one of the most emotionally strong and strong-willed eggs. I won't forget how after Creation showed up at Philza's house on Valentine's Day Chay became deeply upset, I don't have the clip but you can see it from Phil's POV

We can see how Tallulah is armed, with her shield raised, on the defensive and stands between Creation and Chayanne. protecting him.

Let's remember that although Tallulah is not considered one of the veteran eggs, she is undoubtedly one of the first. I consider that Tallulah is one of the best eggs, she has her own personality, she has her changes, her defects and her virtues

I still remember how I went from being the little girl who had to be protected, to being a truly emotionally complex post-purgatory one.

Tallulah is still the heart, don't get wrong, she's just grown up and matured (she had character development xd)

But my favorite case is without a doubt Ramon-Leo-Dapper. They are triplets, they were really united eggs, Ramon and Dapper were generally seen playing (hitting each other) constantly and Leo was seen with them. Leo found comfort in her brothers after the death of Trump.

But not everything can last forever.

They are still triplets and they still love each other.

But Leonarda has her nephew Pepito, and her brother Roier and her dad Foolish, maybe even Richas because he is also her nephew (And she is currently among them + Sunny and Tubbo in the city of Fobo) she is no longer the extremely rich and a bit lonely one, she is still iconic and happy but now things are different. She has a lot more people around their.

The same with Dapper, the most important thing for him now is his newly revived father (which is not shocking at all, nope) and his little sister Pomme whom he loves with all his heart. Dapper is one of the eggs that has gone through the most screwed things (this egg has a longer list of kidnappings than hats) and therefore one of the strongest but above all hopeful with the idea that it will have peace in this new beginning.

Ramon, oh Ramon, you could make a bible just about Ramon, the relationship he had with Spreen and the impact that had on his relationship with Fit. How now he is no longer alone; he has two little hermanitas whom he adores; Sunny and Empanada, a big brother figure in Tubbo and two loving parents who love each other.

He went from being locked up to having sleepovers every night with his dear little sisters, spending the mornings in Tubbo's factories, learning single words in Portuguese with his dad Pac and going on adventures with his dad Fit.

If Leo were to place Pepito over his brothers (because sometimes he feels that Pepito is very coded as a little boy) it would hurt her bad, but they would understand because Pepito is Leo's family.

When Ramon came between Leo and Sunny, he didn't do it out of choice, he did it to protect his little sister, Diamond Girl, because Sunny is Ramon's family.

If Dapper could have chosen an egg to be freed from purgatory, he would not have chosen himself, he would have chosen Pomme, because Pomme is Dapper's family.

and that doesn't stop them from being family to each other.

#qsmp #qsmp chayanne #qsmp tallulah #qsmp eggs #qsmp creation #qsmp sunny #qsmp sunnysideup #qsmp leonarda #qsmp dapper #qsmp pomme #qsmp ramón #qsmp ramon #qsmp pepito #qsmp richarlyson #qsmp foolish #qsmp tripletes #roses family #analisys

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calware · 5 months

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personal headcanon time 😦 iiii recognize that andrew hussie probably did not sit down and say "im going to write all of these characters as aromantic" but i like to interpret them in that way based on things they say and do in the text as well as their roles within the narrative. obligatory disclaimer Sorry if i'm misinterpreting the text i hope this all makes sense

john: aromantic, does not want to be in a romantic relationship. the type to date someone for 1 week in high school if someone asks them out

jake: somewhere on the aro spectrum, perpetually on-and-off-and-on-again with dirk with random flings in between. wants to be in a relationship with dirk (until she doesn't) but doesn't feel as strongly as dirk does. it's complicated (obligatory "i think that the line about wanting to be alone forever is born more out of self loathing and instinct to isolate rather than genuine lack of desire to be in a relationship" this reading is based on other things)

aradia: aromantic, does not want to be in a romantic relationship unless it's in a "i want to play pretend with a random person for two months for fun" kind of way (not what was going on with sollux when they were 8), chooses to genuinely spend a significant portion of her life with certain people she's close to

karkat: aromantic. cannot distinguish platonic affection for friends from romantic attraction. gets stuck in situationship purgatory. pulling his hair out wondering when he's going to start feeling the same way people do in love songs

"but calware" said nobody "don't you like [insert ship with one of these characters i've reblogged art for in the past]?" to answer your question a) i like allo interpretations too from time to time if i see good arajade art on my dash i will reblog it 👍 b) i feel like i have an unconventional approach to "shipping" where to me all it means is that i enjoy exploring the dynamic of two characters in a relationship (not every kind of relationship obviously), romantic or otherwise, functional or otherwise, etc. i "ship" dirkjake even though i think they would break up 50 times. i "ship" davekat even though i dont think karkat would fall in love etc

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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year

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Hi! If you're still taking requests I'd love request a drabble about the moment when Konig and Reader first noticed each other and what they thought/felt during that moment based on your "Just Friends" fic.

Btw I love your work and oh my god, it's perfection, absolutely amazing. Super excited to read chapter 3&4 (no rush take your time!!)

Thabj you!!!

Even Demons are Lonely

Wordcount: 3.8 k

Summary: König sees reader for the first time. Soon, the promise to never touch someone as lovely as her turns into a vow to never leave her side.

Tags/warnings: F!Reader, König POV, Just Friends universe. Angst, twisted & fluffy feelings, pining, obsessive behavior, stalking, panty stealing, mentions of past trauma, abuse and patricide, yandere!König falling in love (=being delusional). Mild sexual and violent themes.

A/N: I did take my time with this one... 🩷 And it's only König POV, but I hope you enjoy! 💋

"Abashed the Devil stood, and felt how awful goodness is, and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely – saw, and pined His loss..."

– John Milton, Paradise Lost

Purgatory.

That's the word that stuck to him when he was learning English at school, simply because it was an accurate definition of how he felt.

Adults used to say there is heaven and hell, and then this world, the world of humans, somewhere in between. They said he would go to heaven after he died and that bad people would go to hell.

They were all liars because hell already existed here on Earth. He had lived there ever since he was born.

The first memories of the cutting are shallow and pale, like they happened to some other boy. With every hit and cut and every cry, the sounds turned muddy until he was mute too, until all he could hear was mother's crying and Papa's roaring. The old man always got more mad when people cried and cowered.

That's when he knew he would someday do something about bad people, that crying and cowering and begging wasn't going to help. It was the birth hour of hope and heaven. He dreamed of killing his father, killing his "friends", killing everyone who looked at him like he was a freak.

He soon learned that this was not what people associated with heaven at all. He learned that there was a word for people like him, for phantoms who were morbidly interested in death and decay.

Ghoul.

A grave robber and a corpse feaster he was not, but neither was he going to pretend that some people didn't deserve to be gutted. If being normal meant he should just play along and pretend that there was justice in this world, then he was happy to be morbid. A little ghoul boy who grew up in hell, who dreamed of heaven, who slipped behind the thin veil between the worlds when he was four, who learned how to make the knives dance while everyone around him suffered.

He learned to cry and beg before he learned to speak, but when the words finally started to make sense to him, he had no use for them. No one wanted to talk to him, so he settled to observe. Life was a film reel running by, and words were useless when all he wanted to do was roar. There was a growing, gaping maw inside him, shrieking and spitting blood while he was without a voice.

It took a while to make Papa cry and beg. But he begged, eventually. In his last words, he tried to hide behind a woman’s skirt.

"Don't do this to your mother," was a plea that didn't ignite mercy: it drove him off the ledge. Looking at the horrible excuse for a man squirming at his feet made him realize he should've released his mother from this demon years ago. He was too weak, and he vowed to himself, to the whole world, that he would never be weak again.

………………

Sometimes, a glimpse of true heaven can be seen on a clear summer's day when the sun shines, when bees are buzzing and a beautiful voice sings a love song on the radio. Beautiful, peaceful things only add to his suffering. They are simply evidence gathered – examples of everything he will never have.

The air clots inside his mask with a brew of old sweat and acrid gunpowder. It's usually enriched by a hot desert wind or the stench of dust and emissions, a city's rotten core. It would feel odd to be met with a fresh breeze or the smell of rust and smoke than have them dampened by the baggy mask. He's certain that it would only be painful to feel the full brunt of the world on his naked face again. His enemies can't see him when he kills them, so they can't haunt him either.

He is the only ghoul here. He is the one who haunts.

He's learned to let love and peace go. He came here to reap; that's his job. Ghouls cannot love or be loved. They are supposed to get rid of the plague, do what normal people can't do, what good people deem hideous and wrong.

People have always been alien to him: they both know something he cannot seem to decode and are unaware of the constant presence of the Maw. He has to feed it in order to not be swallowed by it himself. It helps with the constant yelling for a while.

His father was the first demon to be punished, but he has learned that all demons are liars when they beg. They don't know what real hell is like. That's why he didn't give mercy to his father, and that's why he doesn't give mercy to them, either. It's not hell, it's not heaven, so he must be in a limbo state in between.

That's why he calls this place purgatory.

………………

He sees a woman under the sun one day.

The sheer sight of her sitting there on her little blanket spread over the grass, dressed in a pure white dress is like a torturing dream from above. It stops him in his tracks like there is suddenly an invisible wall in front of him, forcing him to halt.

His heart is pounding, but that's not new. His heart is always tight and racing, and that's why it's better to have a heavy gun in his hands than hold onto nothing at all; it's better to do something than do nothing at all. The only thing that calms the endless roil inside him is work; when there's no work, it helps to go outdoors, somewhere between the shadows between thick trees.

Trees are better than people...

But they're not better than a woman like her.

He knows his mind plays tricks sometimes with females. That is why at first he thinks that the creature before him is not from this world either. How could someone like her even end up here? There are few ladies in the base, and none of them have picnics; none of them look like angels.

She looks up at the sky, at the single cloud drifting across the cerulean blue that hurts his eyes. Sun shines on her exposed throat, her stare is dreamy as she basks in the warmth and raises an apple to her lips.

He stops breathing as she takes a bite, fearing it might stain the beautiful white dress from how juicy it is. The runaway apple juice drips down her chin, but she catches it with her finger, then sweeps the sweet taste of it back into her mouth.

Her lips hug the finger gently as she savors the treat, and his breath returns to him, heavy and with a pang, like someone just punched him between the lungs.

She can't be human...

He wonders if she's even real.

He's hungry, but the need to devour this woman turns into a need to worship her before he can even decipher what is happening to him. He would grovel at her feet if that's what it took to get her to feed him some of that fruit. His mind goes numb from the need to march there and hug her. Just hold her, so close that he forgets what it is to breathe.

He knows she would only scream, and it's good he's been walking in the shade. It's good that she can't see him unless she turns her head. Because she must be an angel, and angels have no business with ghouls.

He should go and leave her be... Mortals he can want, humans he can torture, but a celestial being he could never touch. The wind carries a whiff of apple juice to his nose; it overrides the stench of sweat and gun oil and smoke.

And then the angel turns her head.

It's Judgment Day, but she doesn't condemn him. She blinks a few times, lashes fluttering like he's another sun, the dreaded black sun, and she can't bear to look directly at him. But there's no disgust, no uneasiness, there's no fear. There's only shyness and the smallest smile.

The pain inside his gut turns into a brutal stab, pure suffering. He hasn't hoped for anything for a long, long time. Now hope bleeds into his stomach with golden tingles, like those rays of sun that caress her skin.

He thought good things would feel… well, good, but to his horror, they feel painful too. She's painfully sweet. Even the demon inside him falls silent, the only demon he cannot destroy. It's finally quiet, as it should be. Everything in him bows to this greater power of Her.

But she can't be real... His mind is sick and has finally conjured up the most beautiful thing he can never, ever have. He's been called a freak, he's been called a dumb ugly giant, he's been called so many things, but he's not stupid enough to think that the creature hugged by the golden aura of light is meant for him.

So he squares his shoulders and pushes through the invisible wall, back behind the veil, back to where he belongs, and leaves the heavenly apparition in the sun.

………………

The next time he sees her is after a mission and inside the base.

He brings mud and blood inside after a few rainy days spent in the mountains. He's so soaked that not even the 3-hour flight managed to dry all the dirt. She's waiting for him, or that's how it feels like when she gives him a small, relieved smile and starts to clean the mess he and every other operator leave behind.

His angel is not only a celestial visage but a cleaner.

She keeps the building that houses people who destroy life, clean. She scrubs the filth killers like him bring inside the cold, dead compound built on what used to be a forest full of birds, life, and wind through the trees.

No one thanks this girl as she humbly dusts a table or mops the floor. No one understands that she's a saint for coming to the purgatory and making it a more decent place for the demons and ghouls to live. And she's relieved every time he comes back unharmed. She's happy to see he's alive. There's someone waiting for him. And not just someone, not just anyone, but an angel.

It's unbelievable how no one has claimed her yet. She has no one to keep her safe, and it makes his hands twitch. If he was her protector, she would never have to work again.

She's not like the rest of them: she doesn't turn her gaze away when he flicks a knife out. She likes to watch him make them dance. It's a ritual that makes him invincible on the battlefield. He used to do it every morning before school to stay safe – there were no angels back then to keep him alive.

He almost stops the first time he sees her watching how he goes through the rite.

No, look away, little angel... You're not supposed to see this; this is a death dance, it's filthy, demonic magic.

But she's not afraid of his blades or the way he weaves his spell of protection. The girl follows his moves entranced. Her eyes shine, and he nearly drops the blade – he hasn't dropped a knife since he was ten – because there's hunger in her stare. Not as fathomless as his, but deep enough for him to recognize it.

His angel is lonely and trapped too.

He completes the dance, returns the knife to his pocket, and looks back, straight back.

She doesn't look away. She doesn't wince or lean back, no: she leans forward, and he can see it, the way her pulse flutters on her neck, the way her mouth opens even more, how a tiny pink tongue sweeps across her lips as she looks back into the jaws of damnation. It takes him a while to realize his angel must be wet, just from seeing how good he is with a knife. The notion doesn't only make his cock jolt; it throws him headfirst into the abyss.

You'll never get rid of me now, the demon growls before he can choke him silent.

Her wet eyes, her wet, promising lips belong in a realm of madness. She's not filthy; his angel could never be filthy. But she's seducing him, which means she might seduce other men too.

Has someone claimed her already…?

What if she has a lover? Do they make her legs shake, do they make her mew?

Who does he have to kill?

………………

He breaks into her room that night.

He only meant to stand watch and see if someone creeps to her in the cover of darkness. He thinks about different ways to kill her lover as he waits near her door. Should he just strangle them when they enter her room? Make her an offering, let her know she could have a far more powerful male if she wants?

No, he must use a knife... She will get wet if he uses a knife.

But no one appears: he is the only shadow in the dark hall, and after midnight, he decides to take a look at his innocent, sleeping angel. Just one look.

Her domain is full of softness, and he has to take a few deep breaths before he continues. Her world is so different from his that he nearly turns back and closes the door to paradise. But then her breathing calls to him, causing him to take a few steps. She sleeps with her window open, likes to listen to the sound of night birds before she falls asleep – just like he does…

The demon is awake in an instant and grabs him by the throat.

No.

Don’t look. If you look, she will steal your soul.

He freezes before he reaches her bed. His gaze sweeps her room instead, and the demon pants at the sight. Her dresses are laid out on a clothing rack: they salute him like a row of colorful flowers. Flowing and singing like a river, they hit him with a breeze made of life and all things good.

She has a little armchair filled with cushions, and there's more softness and beauty everywhere he looks; he can see it even in the darkness of the night. Her delicate perfume that follows him as he follows her around the base lingers in the air and mixes with the distant birdsong and moonlight that shift the curtains in her room.

There's art on her walls, lively houseplants on the window sill, she has collected a cavalcade of cute little things on top of her drawer: nail polish and sea shells and beeswax candles and a piece of driftwood, a bottle of that perfume she uses, decorative lights above it all, placed around a small mirror.

He wants all of that.

He wants light and living things and greenery – he never had plants at home – he wants softness and cute little items, he wants to listen if the seashell still roars with the crashing waves were he to bring it to his ear. His mama always told him seashells remember the ocean because it used to be their home…

He wants her to light a honeyed candle and give him a bite of that apple, catch the juice as it runs down his scarred chin, or better yet, kiss it away before it falls. He wants to taste what's between her thighs. She must taste like honey and heaven.

One of the drawers is open, and from it, a torrent of cute little underthings is spilling out; they almost cascade on the floor. In different colors, too, and his hand reaches out and takes one before he can even think. He steals it like it's candy, then turns around with a stiff back and shoulders heavy from the sin he just committed.

He's about to go to the door, but her soft breathing calls him back. He tries to calm the demon - the girl can't steal anything: there's nothing left to steal. He has no soul, so he doesn't have to fear her either.

Taking a few steps, he takes the peek he shouldn't take because it will only prolong his sentence in purgatory. Little does the demon know that he would suffer eternally for one little glimpse…

She's not cocooned inside her blanket as he thought she would be. He thought he would find her coiled into a fetal position, curled into safety, but instead, she's sleeping on her back, arms spread next to her face, looking like she just fell from heaven and is feeling a little dizzy from the fall. She's calm and innocent as the moonlight brushes her cheek, her face free from all worry.

Why is she so cute, why is she so sweet?

She has no right. She should be up in heaven.

He almost crawls on top of her right then and there, because blinding want is nothing compared to this. He wants to breathe her, breathe with her, hold her gently, and have her smile at him when she wakes up. He doesn't want to ruin her… He just wants a taste, see if an angel would like to have a demon worship her. If his worship would mean anything, if it had any power to persuade her to like him...

He would never kneel before anyone, but he would kneel before her. In spirit, he is on his knees, and the only thing that makes him suffer is the fear that she might not want him, a ruined temple haunted by old, hateful spirits.

The madness was right. Apparently, there was a soul to steal, a tiny broken mosaic piece left, for the angel has it now. She owns what's left of him, the haunted temple is hers if she would ever want to come visit. He would restrain all those monsters so that she can walk freely and explore all the things buried under the rubble.

Her underwear burns his palm like a flower on fire. He only then realizes that there are no actual flowers in her room. He wonders if she would give him a kiss if he were to bring her one. Or two. Or an entire bouquet…

The demon inside cuts him with a searing blade – stupid idiot – she doesn't want to kiss your mauled face or love your ghouls. There's no treasure hidden inside that filthy rubble, there's only shit and blood and festering vomit. Better to just take her right now, see how tight she is, how wide her eyes go when a proper man comes to assert his will and authority. The demon tells him to at least ruin that cute thing in his hand and throw it on the table. Imagine her shocked little face when she wakes up…

Tears brim, and the maw of hell laughs with a roar of raging fire. He forces both down with a swallow and a wrench that shuts his heart.

There's no way she would ever let a man like him inside her. He's a sickness; no, he's an entire plague. He could try to make love to her, and she would only cry and bleed to death.

The smooth place between her brows gains a wrinkle as if she can hear his thoughts but doesn't agree with them. A little whimper escapes her nose, her head nods on the pillow; it looks like an attempt to hide while you're tied and cannot move.

Pretty angel is having a nightmare, and it's no wonder. Of course she can sense she's being visited by a monster.

He turns to leave, and notices another colorful thing on the floor: her underwear, and not clean. She's slipped out of it before bed: his angel is naked under that blanket. His angel sleeps naked…

He wonders if she has touched herself before sleep. Not with feverish, stern hands, like he does, but softly, under that blanket, with her features melting into pleasure as she comes with sighs and a series of desperate little whimpers.

His blood turns to hellfire as he drops the underwear he's holding. It falls right next to the intoxicating thing he picks up instead. Taking a deep inhale, he can finally smell her. Not just her perfume, but her. She smells of an angel and a woman, raw, perfect woman, and he knows he's lost. This is worse than any dream or demon; this is worse than anything ever before. There's no going back now.

Her scent calls to him, those hands frame her face in a gesture of surrender. She smiled at him on that day under the sun, and she smiled at him today.

What if he's spent enough time in hell? What if it's possible to have a taste of heaven?

He can't help but wonder if his angel wants this too...

“Engel,” he whispers into the night.

It takes only a second before she whimpers again. It's an answer, it's a yes, and his heart is full of tiny needles; they pinch him with terrible love and hope. The wrinkle has smoothed out, and his angel is smiling very, very softly.

She's calling for him. How could he refuse?

His angel is full of light as he makes his decision. He whispers his apology, only in his mind and only in German, trusting that angels must know every language in the world. He asks for her forgiveness for all the things he's about to do to her. Then he promises he will come for her, that she doesn't need to worry: she has a guardian now and always will. She will be forever safe with him by her side. He will drive even her nightmares away.

Then he returns to his room so different from hers, returns to the realm of death and worships the thing he just stole, spraying it with hot, white love - the only thing inside him that can be called pure, the color of angels. It's only a matter of time before he gets to worship her in the flesh, unite with her, the soul who forgave his sins and slipped him the key to heaven.

#könig x reader #könig x you #könig fanfiction #yandere könig #soft yandere #male yandere #obsessive love #cw: stalking #cw: dark content

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dyketubbo · 8 months

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forgive me if i lose tubbo character analysis points (rolls eyes heavily) over this or something but i honestly dont think the date was very ooc or that the frubbo romance is going to be played as something that makes qtubbo better. obviously qtubbo gained a lot of trust issues and lost a lot of hope in others + started to strongly believe that love only hurts after purgatory and the funeral. and hes an extremely defeatist guy at heart

but he also makes exceptions because no matter how much he tries to disconnect himself he still cares so so much about others. he has such a weird fucked up view of love and justifies seeing sunny as an exception by saying they wont hurt each other because their love is unconditional and yet he also claims empanada isnt safe when bagi is around because the eye workers will use that connection to their advantage And Yet he constantly looks after and takes care of sunny anyways. even though hes already mourning her before theyve even died. even though by his own logic it may be safer for sunny to not be with him

and like.. he says dont get attached empathy makes you weak but he tries to ruin fit & pacs date so they dont abandon him. he still jokes around with them and has happy moments with them bc ultimately theyre his friends and even if they dont Really understand what hes going through or what would help him they want to be there for him and make him happy and they Do make him happy. bc qtubbo doesnt spend all of his time with his friends whining and groaning about how theyre going to leave him some day and despite being suicidal and defeatist and at times a fucking jerk that isnt his whole personality

depressed people Have happy days. they have ups and peaks in their life and yeah actually many of them do manage to have nice relationships and theres a lot of depressed people out there who are fully capable of just. not being complete downers to be around all the time (cough a lot of comedians have depression cough). if anything i would argue it isnt just in character but realistic for qtubbo to be able to just. have a normal date where hes a bit of a loser and manages to get through an actual confession

and its not like hes going all in oh we're dating and we're going to get married now bc he doesnt even consider themselves boyfriends and he turns down sunny claiming fred as another parent. he just had a happy day and it boosted his mood a little. i dont think fred is really on his list of trusted people and in fact i feel like him just being very silly and awkward during the date is a Part of him not fully trusting fred or wanting to be super serious around/with her. i think to qtubbo fred symbolizes sure some pain from the whole funeral situation but also still a lot of happier simpler times and ultimately a time where tubbo was happier and openly hopeful

if anything, tubbos relationship with fred is another form of escapism for him. of course it isnt going to make him better. he literally brought fred to him and sunnys island where they plan to live far away from everyone to avoid their problems. its all a fantasy for him, and one that he isnt even allowing himself to fully jump into but will joke about and dance around the subject of nonetheless

#'the gay sex will make him better' 'the gay sex will make him worse' the gay sex is just another way for him to avoid his problems #ultimately the hope is still there in qtubbo. hes buried it down deep but its in there #let him have some joyous whimsy. the boy is barely serious about his own issues of course hes going to spend the date-#-making stupid minecraft pick up lines and being extremely awkward. what did you expect from him be fr #mask mews #should i count this as an analysis proper. i guesss #amaryllis analyzes #tubbo #fred qsmp #frubbo #qsmp #anyways qtubbo is bpd realness #having an fp doesnt solve all of your problems being in a relationship doesnt solve all of your problems #if anything the tunnel vision from having one is likely to make you ignore all your issues #bc you feel happy so you stop caring about working on yourself #if you even cared in the first place

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toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account · 10 months

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god ride the cyclone is the fucking musical ever. a rat named Virgil that's going to kill the narrator (a paranormal fortune telling machine) in like an hour plays the bass. you're then immediately introduced to five children that are brutally killed in a roller coaster accident and have their hopes and dreams and everything they loved taken away from them. an unidentified headless body depicted as having her doll's head appears and sings a very woeful introduction to her character and then asks if her purgatory-mate would like to brush her dolly's hair and then recites a fact about how when a lioness has children she stops making love to the lion. the lion gets jealous. sometimes so jealous he eats the children. you would think this would upset the lioness. far from it. they make love again like the children never existed. she finds that idea terrifying. the paranormal fortune telling machine is able to move the children's bodies against their will for choreography and "catchphrases" and this is shown to be something they're discomforted by initially but continues nonetheless through the rest of the musical. ocean tears down all of her friends in her song to come back to life until she's told they decide who comes back through unanimous vote. you laugh for half a second before you remember that even if she's initially stuck up and conceited her song was an attempt from the soul of an innocent dead teenager who died for no reason to try to plead to come back to life. noel has fantasies of being a sex worker in post-war france and dying of typhoid flu driven by his love of french new wave cinema (mischa calling him tragic later is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to him). mischa recites a very precise and accurate analysis of the meaning of Saw VI but calls it Saw V. you listen to a very silly hip-hop rap before you listen to one of the most heartbreakingly loving songs you've ever heard and you hear "I lay my masculinity at the altar of your maidenhood" and you wonder how this is the same musical where the rat played the bass. you go from a song about a teenage boy saving an alien race of cat girls by breeding with them all to a mournful and breathtaking song about a jane doe's complete lack of identity besides the fact that she is dead and without an identity and the fact that she spends the whole song not begging to come back to life but begging to know who she is. her purgatory-mates get her a party hat and an old hello kitty cupcake and a cape and you sob when this choir made up of dead children make up a new birthday song that doesn't require a name so this jane doe can have a good new birthday because they finally don't see her as a freaky and eerie character but as a dead child just like them who can't remember who she is and they treat her like one of their own even though none of them recognize her from their choir. the last thing constance did before riding the cyclone was lose her virginity to a thirty year old and you try very hard not to think about how horrible that is. the girl that had been selfish the entire musical is given the final vote and is given a chance to vote for herself and she honors the original rules so she can give a new life to jane doe and everyone agrees. these children watch jane's new life play out and you think about how much they all deserved new lives too. it's both the most fun and most sad fucking musical you've ever listened to. fuck.

#and then you realize you got into it like 3 years too late for there to be an active fandom 🙃#long post #mine #ride the cyclone

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hey-i-am-trying · 4 months

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hi, tripoier here! Long text incoming alert and a detailed explanation of the situation for qsmpblr (also sorry if I make some typos I'm writing without translator)

Yeah I also saw what happened today with the og admin of Pepito and I have a lot to say about it. First of all I'm not speaking in behalf of the community but I'm my own experience of the situation. I watched the development of Pepito's story since day one and fell in love with that little guy (and his laggy PC). Then second day arrived and I noticed the admin change bc he was less laggy and I've learned enough Portuguese and 07's (Richas admin) mannerisms to recognize when he's playing a character, even Roier noticed but didn't say anything until the screencap incident lol

Few day passed and 07 created such a cute and wholesome personality for Pepito, that contrasted very well with the role that roier was having at the moment— that it's understandable that it may not be too comfortable for some people but for the ones that had been watching Roier's story in the server + his relationship with Bobby, we take it with humor/hope for him to heal slowly after what happened in Purgatory and with Bobby (and believe me, Bobby had a HUGE impact on how Roier behaved with the rest of he eggs after his death)

So during the days 07 played as Pepito all the tripoiers were in this state of hope because we knew how much q!Roier was trying hard to not to get attached to Pepito, he knew the moment something happens to him he was gonna suffer A LOT, and Pepito was this pure, innocent ray of sunshine that it was imposible for us not to love immediately (Roier also did from day one but he loved to play with us + his lore at the moment was being in depression for the lost of his husband and having Richas and Leo in their comatose state). Also, is worth to mention that after he discovered it was 07 the one playing as Pepito he became more playful and started to tease him just to make him go out of role (and succeeded one time). Which is why he used the chancla a lot with him, as a shield for the feelings that were starting to grow on him again.

Then, Otipep happened.

This is the part I'm gonna be more careful to explain bc there is a language barrier that for the people who don't have Spanish as their first language they cannot understand or got confused

When Otipep appeared Roier noticed that it was another admin playing as Pepito because 07 was busy helping with Q's lore, we don't know if he recognized immediately that it was the original one or just a random temporary admin, but he noticed that this Pepito appeared where the fist one disconnected (in the garden outside of his house). Some people noticed that it was the original one and got happy bc it meaned that finally Pepito had his permanently admin back and bc Richas and the others eggs were also back from the coma we could see them both at the same time (roier used to joke about it every time 07 was around)

We also thought that the og admin had been catching up with the role that 07 has built so far with Pepito (which was not, and we would never know if it was either miscommunication between the admins or the og admin just decided to ignore the actual role to keep their 'idea' for the role), so at first we were a little bit shocked when this Pepito started acting so "dry" (idk if this is the correct word) with Roier, bc we had already gotten used to Pepito's tender way of speaking, but we just let that pass for a bit.

But then that "dry" behavior started going to go down a path were even we as an audience started getting uncomfortable, because roier was trying to socialize with the admin but they clearly didn't knew what's has been going on these past days, so Roier take the time to make a summary of the last days with his typical chill humor, and while he was doing that everything reached its final point with the sign "hueles a culo también hijo de puta" = you also smell like ass son of a bitch.

now This. THIS right here is what destroyed everything. Because you would say "oh, it's just Pepito following Roier's game, it's was in a playful way".

No.

It. was. not.

When Roier starts calling someone with some swears or related words is always in a playful way, and there is context and trust behind. When Otipep put that sign Roier was making a summary of the role that 07 has been doing with Pepito, bc he didn't wanted to let them behind, and while doing that he always explain with his usual humor to make it less unconformable for the admin/ entertained for his audience.

So when he placed that sign we all get out of the loop because it came from nowhere, even Roier kept silence of a few second because 1). it sounded rude, that sign was so out of place 2). Roier was explaining the last few days to the admin so he can keep up with the role, he was not "joking" with the admin, or moving on to another topic, he was helping the admin. 3). We, as an audience, felt so shocked because they weren't saying that to Roier in a playful way, they were giving weight to those words. And this is the part that people that do not have Spanish as their first language doesn't understand. They gave weight to the insult. They didn't wrote that as a joke, they directly INSULTED the streamer.

Then roier proceeded to hit him with the chancla bc he wanted to take the control back of the situation in a humorous way, a damage control in other words, because the chat was filling with "??????" And people getting offended and angry (justified, even I felt offended) with the admin, but Roier is not of those type of persons and he always try to make his streams a safe place for his community, so if you ask me he did a really well job handling the situation even tho he felt offended and his audience noticed that for the rest of the stream (hell, even days later)

And if that was not enough, Roier kept trying to save the situation but the admin was not cooperating, with the "no he preguntado"= I've not asked you and other sign that I just don't remember and is not really worth it (and bc Otipep literally left Roier speaking alone with the "I'm going to look for better parents" and went to spawn zone), he just gave up trying and waited for Richas to come back (which was also chocked w the situation)

And this is me speaking from a non-neutral tone, but I think we could've had a Roier being super loving and caring with Pepito if this situation didn't happen in the first place, bc after this I noticed that Roier stopped tried to get close to Pepito, the situation really affected him so whatever role he was building with the character he just simply stopped and changed the dynamic with another one more limited and less parental, but keeping his usual humor bc it was not the fault of the actual admin or 07, it is what it is unfortunately.

That's why I'm so glad that the actual admin and Ricardão did such a good job saving Pepito because the Spanish speaking community was about to drop him, even streamers friends of Roier that are not part of the qsmp acknowledge the behavior of Otipep with Roier (if that doesn't say a lot about how complicated it was on this side of the road)

And even after all these things there was people out there calling the Spanish speaking community as dramatic or harassing Roier when the situation happened (and it seems they still do it :/ ), but most of us kept quiet because we respect Roier and as he says, mejor pasamos de movidas.

and well, this is it, I know I'm missing some points in the story but honestly getting into fights or hate in general is not my thing, I wanted to give some context for the people of Tumblr because I know, at least here people take the time to read and are more chill unlike twt, and I hope I gave some clarification for the rest of the communities that are not native in Spanish, I really really love Pepito and I'm so glad we had 07 and the actual admin there to play this character, I still can't believe that person had the audacity to come out proudly as Pepito's 1st admin when literally no one from the Spanish community considers his 2 appereances as canon after their blunder xd

Thank you for sharing!

I understand that some stuff are hard to translate, thank you for taking the time. I didn't know that your community was being called dramatic because of that! That is dumb as hell and I am sorry it happend in the first place.

Of course we are no in business of spreading hate. I have always tried to see the other side of situations, I think from what I read in the admin's doc they had some kinda of vision for the character, but I guess they didn't realized that well, they were not going to become automaticly friends with Roier and have room to "joke" like that just because they have become an egg admin. Probably my best guest of what it happend.

It is really weird, maybe they were banking on the support that the other admins have gotten? Or they actually never realized how insulting they have come out as.

Well, I don't have much to say, except I am sorry it happend at all with Roier and the hispanic community.

#qsmp #qsmp discourse #otipep #pepitoadmin

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a-local-idiots-shitpost · 1 year

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Mc keeps the Dateables up at Night

Diavolo:

you wanted to stay up all night long, without him???

what a crime, he should throw you into the dungeons! just kidding but he does not appreciate that you wanted to stay up the entire night to play games with Leviathan

to make it up to him you should stay awake with him :)

you could do a lot of fun things in the Castle, tour the Gardens at night, listen to the screams of the Damned, running away from Barbatos because both of you should be asleep or sneaking some snacks into his room

if it wasn´t for the fact that Barbatos would kill you if he found out Diavolo didn´t sleep you would be up for it

but know you have to find a way to get him to sleep

Barbatos:

this man just doesn´t sleep, or maybe he just does but you never notice it

considering it´s Barbatos both could be a thing

while he didn´t appreciate your stupid little stunts as long as they didn´t wake Diavolo he doesn´t care what you do

and if your already awake you can help him with cleaning the Demon Lord´s Castle

by hand of course, no magic or anything allowed :)

maybe you should have thought twice before thinking about bothering Barbatos, the worat part was the torture chamber

man cleaning this alone was a form of torture

but Barbatos made you whatever you wanted as a payment so I guess it evens out

Solomon:

you put a pipe bomb into his cauldron, you were actually hoping the explosion would knock him out and render him unconscious, the only way you can get Solomon to sleep

but all you achieved was blowing up his cauldron

and he was even a bit proud of you for pulling this of without him noticing

but you did ruin his newest experiment without even thinking of how difficult it was to get them

good for him that he has such a capable apprentice who would love nothing more than help him :)

unless of course they want to experience the worst curses he has who won´t do them major bodily or mental harm :)

which means they get to experience the fun adventure of diving into the deepest ocean in the Devildom to gather scales of an incredibly hard to escape from predator, climb the highest mountain to gather feathers from a Human eating species of birds, getting a flesh eating plant which could easily burn your flesh of and many more wonderful (terrifying) things

Simeon:

you did something really simple

you pulled the fire alarm and watched him run out in panic

it was really funny until it wasn´t

turns out Simeon didn´t think it was so funny to wake him up so early

good for you he didn´t find the mega phone and air horn that you wanted to use when he fell asleep again

but yeah he did not appreciate you waking him and he appreciated it even less when he found out you wanted to keep him up just for fun

as punishment you weren´t allowed to come back to Purgatory Hall for one month

and of course you aren´t allowed to eat anything they made during the month (unless it was Solomon, then you have to be the sacrificial Sheep)

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #obey me simeon

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milk-ly · 5 months

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Kotoko and her connection to Dante’s Inferno’s Satan

Disclaimer: This is just about symbolism and I know how it sounds but I promise I’m not trying to imply anything or demonize her! I love Kotoko! Ive just been repeatedly noticing details about the parallel for several months now and I just really want to bring it up! This is just an analysis of the details MILGRAM has provided for it. I’m incredibly sorry if I make a mistake!

Kotoko has a lot of parallels to Dante’s Inferno Satan, especially in relation to Es.

To make sure we’re all on the same page, Dante’s Inferno is a Christian poem that outlines the 9 circles of hell. MILGRAM directly references Dante’s Inferno by quoting it in all the t2 door arts.

“Abandon all hope, ye who enter.” A quote derived from a sign at the gate of hell in the poem.

Each ring of Hell contains sinners with different levels of sins, and each ring’s sin was meant to be worse the further inside you go. Ive seen a couple theories that each prisoner correlates with a specific ring of hell. (Ex: Haruka is ring 1, Limbo; Yuno is ring 2, lust; etc)

But Dante’s Inferno only outlines 9 rings, what about our 10th prisoner, Kotoko?

While it could be that she’s again the “outsider” to the other prisoners, the last section of the 9th ring of Hell is significant because it is the center of Hell, containing Satan. So it could be reasonably argued that Kotoko correlates with it.

MILGRAM already has a TON of religious references. One that I’ve seen pointed out is how it seems the cover art of each novel is a reference to a famous Christian art piece.

The Es in each novel seems to be where Jesus relatively is. Remember that Jesus is both the son of God AND God. God gives sinners their judgements which sounds very similar to Es and how they're giving the prisoners (the human sinners) their verdicts.

Plus, the quote Milgram quotes is on the doors the prisoners are entering, and in Dante’s inferno, it’s on the gate of hell so you can compare or theorize that MILGRAM is a parallel to (or straight up is) purgatory. And Es, being the one who decides the verdict, parallels God.

Also, her t2 VD is named “YONAH,” which is the masculine version of the name Jonah. Not only does this relate to her themes of masculinity again, Jonah is a name that originates from Hebrew origins which means “dove.”

It is also a reference to the book of Jonah. A main theme of this book is “Jonah wants God to operate on his timeline [...] He wanted God to dole out punishment on his clock instead of according to God's plan. Yet God showed Jonah that in his infinite wisdom, he can't and will not be rushed.” Which is pretty much exactly what happens in YONAH, and also once again compares Es to God.

Dante’s Inferno’s Satan was an angel, a splendid being, apparently the most perfect of God's creatures… an “Angel of light.” We/Es deemed Kotoko innocent in t1. She had the highest innocent percentage in t1 too because a lot of people thought her murder was justified. You know, the most perfect of God’s creatures. The most perfect out of the prisoners.

“We really can work together.”

But then Satan tried to usurp God.

“If you don’t have the strength on your own, let me take care of it. Es! I can do it in MILGRAM!”

Kotoko wants to be the prison guard because Es isn’t capable in her eyes.

Satan was ultimately sent to Hell and punished as "the ultimate sinner" for his betrayal of trying to usurp God.

We are now punishing Kotoko for her attempts to judge the prisoners herself and “usurp” Es. It works even better now that she has the highest guilty percentage in all of MILGRAM so far as the “ultimate sinner.”

As a lot know, Fuuta also has tons of religious references too. (Ex. His VD is titled Baptism by Fire) By him also passing judgements onto people, you could say that he was trying to play God.

What is that saying about us, the audience, then? And our parallel/foil to Fuuta/Kotoko?

Dante’s Inferno as a whole is very much based around the idea of “evil will be punished,” which not only encapsulates Kotoko’s ideals but MILGRAM’s as well. It makes sense that MILGRAM says that Kotoko is a perfect parallel to the facility.

(I also wanna mention that there's something that could be said about the holy trinity in relation to Es + the audience + jackalope. For example, how Jesus is God in the flesh and Es is the audience "in the flesh," by acting as a personified version of us to interact with the "human sinnners" but I feel like I might be going into tinfoil hat territory.)

#edit: GIRL WTF THIS POST WAS A DRAFT I THOUGHT I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED SO I REWROTE THE WHOLE THING. BUT I JUST ACCIDENTALLY QUEUED IT??😭#this…. could’ve been worded much better… but too many people have seen this post now I can’t repost it💀 oops….#original tags:#this has been in my drafts for so many months now😭#it’s been in my mind for even longer #but ive been really scared of posting this because I don’t want people to get the wrong idea #milgram #kotoko yuzuhira #milgram es #fuuta kajiyama #Milkly ramble

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jams-sims · 10 months

Text

Hey imaging if Forever actually confessed to Philza again. And I mean a more casual confession-

They stand outside of Philza house, they are joking and laughing. It's been so long since they've interacted. They last saw each other in purgatory and they had weeped in each others arms. Now they had returned home, he was working on N.I.N.H.O 2.0. He looked at Philza, he looks at the sign that's hangs above the house. It mocking him in the way it says Philza and Missa. He has no bad will towards Missa. He knows, how much Misaa respects Philza.

But Forever watches the way Philza laughs, and the way he looks at him. His heart can't stop racing and when he sees him he hears music. He's tried to move on and maybe the heart does grow fonder with distance. But he couldn't live with himself if he didn't truly try once more, and he steels himself. His knuckles go white as he clenched his fist into the railing of the bridge over overlooking the island. He doesn't look at Philza, his usually bostrus voice is gentle.

"I- Philza I want you to know...how much I.." And the words get stuck in his mouth and it's so easy to speak the words in portuguese. But now as he speaks in English, his words are a mess.

"I- how much I like you." The words rush from Forever mouth, his neck grow lushed with the moment. He hears Philza laugh, the gentle bump of his shoulder.

"Aw, I like you too mate." Philza says it back with such ease Forever knew his meaning either didn't get through or was ignore. But he closes his eye and he turns to Philza.

"No, I mean- I like you as in I want." His words fumble as he see Philza body language change. He could see the walls coming up.

"Oh no, I thought we were over this Forever-"

The panic claws it way through Forever chest and up through his throat.

"No- no please- listen it has nothing to do with the past or Burmin. It's just you-"

The last time he had tried this it ended with his heart broken. But now time has past and looking back on it. He couldn't help but cringe, but now it was something different. And something in the air must have shifted, played in Forever favor because he watches Philza's shoulders relax if only a little. As if Philza was holding the door open.

Silence falls between them and Forever eyes meets those ocean blues. "You owe me nothing, I wanted the truth to be said.. I wanted you to know how important you are to me."

And how you make my heart sing, but those words would stay tuck away.

"How I lo- how I love you."

"Oh Forever..." Philza mouth open as the momentary shock that graced his eyes pass. A breath leaves his lips, those eyes soften. Forever watched as Philza arms uncrossed, holding onto the railing.

Forever knew this moment would be the last time he could ever say this. But the words feels like a weight being lifted from his chest.

"I'll love you as friend, I'll love you as comrade, I'll love you even if you simply breath near me." Forever watches the red crawl up Philza neck and to his ears. He watches as Philza turns away, a hand coming up to guard his face. Forever takes a step forward a hand reaching out.

"You owe me nothing but I must if only this final time, will you hear me?" A gentle hand outstretches brushing against Philza hand.

"Jesus-" Philza turns away, his back blocking Forever. But that wasn't a no, Philza was not running. Some amalgamation of hope and admiration filled his heart.

"Forever- what am I suppose to do? What am I suppose to say to that?!" Philza spoke up.

"Something? Nothing? Tell me you love me back?" It's a rush, it's mess the way he holds onto that hope.

"I- God, Forever..."

Forever watches Philza back tense, and the worry that those walls may come crashing down pushes him to move. Gently grasping Philza hand, he tugs if only to get Philza to look at him again. And he does-

"I like you, but I'm married-" Philza begins

"And?" Forever grip tighten slightly on Philza hand.

"Forever!" Philza turns round and yet he did not pull his hand away. Those blue eyes were finally on him, baring into his soul in astonishment, disbelief graced Philza lips. That made the corner of Philza lips turn up, and a chuckle leave his mouth. Philza shakes his head, leaning back on his heels.

"If I said, I needed time?" Philza said those eyes like ocean that always drew Forever in.

"I'd wait centuries for you."

(Was this meant to turn into a mini fic? No, I'll find this up at some point and post it on ao3 lmao!)

#philever #sugarduo #carmelduo #qsmp #philza

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pixiecaps · 10 months

Text

After successfully planting the bomb cc!Maxo had a discussion about lore again and his character.

Maxo: I’d like to do it (detonate the nuke) during the war or when everyone is reunited to give a lesson to everybody together. Because it makes no sense for all of us to be supposedly friends and to be killing each other- Well its a lot of things. We’re killing each other like crazy people.

Maxo: So if I end up becoming the bad guy I’ll accept the consequences of my actions without any problems. I don’t have any problem with that, I will liberate everybody.

Maxo: In reality, I’ve tried everything, I’ve investigated, founded an organization for investigation, a bunch of people joined, we were investigating, the Federation has done with us whatever they want all this time, I’m becoming a code, I’ve lost everything I loved inside the QSMP. I’ve lost it all already. The players hope that I play to try and find the eggs. But chat, doesn’t that seem a little selfish that everybody is trying to win to get THEIR egg? Like, what’s going to happen to the eggs of those who lose. To begin with, I don’t think we’re ever going to get the eggs back. We’ve had them at the palm of our hands and they haven’t given them back to us. I don’t think winning this purgatory is going to get the eggs back. And.. maybe thats because I’ve lost all hope but thats because I’m already crazy. (His character)

Maxo: I don’t want to be a pawn in this macabre game. I’ve lost all hope. And this (The bomb) is the only hope I have, being able to destroy the islands.

Maxo: I’ll do it on that event, (The war) maybe people will be upset at me because they want to watch the great war … I’m sure that for the day of the event I’ll have collected what is left for my plan to be perfect. To give everyone the lesson of how selfish they’ve been, trying to save their own eggs, killing each other with no problem, becoming bad people. If they want a bad guy they’ll have a bad guy.

Again all meta commentary on his own character and what HE knows. There is a lot that qMaxo isn’t aware of so keep that in mind.

#qsmp

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hatchetmanofficial · 11 months

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(I love this question and I love your username!!!)

Thanks!

I like to think that Alan still has a part of him, that wants to weasel his way back into society, especially after meeting his Doe-eyes. But he can never have it. It's selfish of him to want.

Or Alan doesn’t believe that even if he can get away he can be redeemed/deserves it. Or could cope with being part of society.

Boss is unpredictable and very much so picks those who believe they are someone without a cause. I'd like to think that The Beast's song "Come Wayward Souls" applies to him.

I really enjoyed Over The Garden Wall, and especially Come Wayward Souls/Potatus Et Molasses. https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=hWgVdUv9UHo

It’s a shame the show got pulled from streaming services in a lot of locations.

TW suicide, death, religion feel free to ignore and delete this ask if it’s too heavy or triggering.

I watched Over The Garden Wall years ago and while I haven’t actually read The Divine Comedy/Dante’s Inferno directly… I need to as I’ve found a great VN that also derives from it called 10:16 …I seem to remember some analyses that describe the sin of despair.

(Makes sense. Catholics believe suicide is a sin.)

That is why blithe Greg was aided unlike Wirt. He is a child, innocent of the sin of despair, and in turn his seemingly random foolish actions stave off disaster, ie. dumping the coins from the ghosts creates a bonding experience while getting to Adelaide’s house so Beatrice can change her mind about betraying them.

(Also - that means they didn’t pay the coins to the ferryman to cross Acheron/the Styx! Charon’s Obol. Put into the mouth or on the eyes of the dead for that purpose. They also played a song for clemency like Orpheus.

Technically they haven’t paid for passage or received rites so cannot cross over into death and are trapped on the Earth side of the bank! Forced to wander/given more time before crossing. This may have been key to finally getting out of there. Though a villager in Harveston did say it wasn’t their time.)

And Greg is only ever in real danger when he loses hope, gives up and chooses to sacrifice himself for Wirt.

Wirt only breaks the curse when he has a realisation and dares to hope. To act. Otherwise he would have been trapped as the new employee, the new woodcutter/soul reaper/perpetuator of the cycle.

So… The Beast, and perhaps the Boss, do prey on despair and the lost. And potentially suicides but I’m not sure.

The Edelwood trees also recall The Wood Of The Suicides, which is yet another reference to Dante’s Inferno that I first encountered in The Sandman series. (Though those were in hell.)

So. With Over The Garden Wall being a child friendly allegory for purgatory or hell… I’m actually wondering if Carver, Alan, and Stitches may be dead without being aware of it? Or at least no longer strictly living, caught halfway in the liminal space of the uncanny town.

Stitches was constructed from the remains of three people. Carver doesn’t resemble his past self, retain much of his humanity or remember much about his life.

Alan… was an unprepared 14 (?) year old runaway who was homeless for at least a year in Canada (?), which means he very likely experienced at least one bitterly cold winter without adequate shelter or clothing. Due to his genetic condition he may not have even been able to feel cold or pain to know how much peril he was in and find shelter, or he was lost.

I don’t know whether he was ‘rescued’ while still alive as an alternative to dying or whether he could have actually succumbed to exposure (or to despair in a tragic literal sense) and been found then.

I wonder if this is a Charon situation, if Alan replaced a disobedient employee and a future victim may replace him. (Perhaps Stitches is being lined up, or was created to watch Alan.)

Are the employees psychopomps?

Or cultists enacting sacrifice?

Both?

In a way Alan cutting down people with his hatchet recalls the cutting down of the Edelwood Trees, that being a metaphor for death.

(I wonder if the choosing is similar to that of the employees - if he takes the despairing, those lost in life, or those who get lost in the forest. The victims are cut down with a hatchet, reaped to feed/fuel the Boss/the Beast.)

Which is more traditionally represented with a field of wheat being reaped by Death’s scythe.

A cornfield, another scary liminal space where people get lost, with similar reaping imagery, has also been associated with evil supernatural entities.

A good example is He Who Walks Behind The Rows, implying an ancient evil god/cult worship and human sacrifice. Giving a hint of why the Boss might be making them do this.

Much in the way the Ancient Greeks believed they needed to placate gods and ghosts with blood.

Doe Eyes is a pull to humanity and life. Orpheus trying to lead Eurydice out of Hades.

Or maybe the coworkers are just metaphorically ‘dead to the world’ through being taken in by the cult and largely isolated from society. (Stitches though is absolutely on some level dead or was never alive.)

I’m also seeing some Twin Peaks/Deadly Premonition parallels with forests/trees, weird towns, and another entity like BOB feeding on suffering.

I remember reading that the Boss may have been partially inspired by Bill Cipher too, so I’m wondering if the town is a little pocket of supernatural chaos.

Bill (a yellow pyramid) was in turn inspired by Nyarlathotep, who liked to start cults and spread chaos and discord amongst mortals - and where Nyarlathotep is associated with pyramids The Boss is embodied in a similarly angular form of a diamond shaped sign. A yellow sign!

The Yellow Sign is a symbol that is usually used by the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign, a cult that worships the Great Old One Hastur. It is said that the symbol can bestow supernatural powers such as mind-control and possession, and is used to get people under the control of the King in Yellow.

Actually… Past traumatic event in Doe Eye’s life and (spoiler) aside, that may also explain Doe Eye’s nightmares and inability to sleep. As well as their pull to the forest.

So while I’m half recalling all of this or extrapolating from googled snippets maybe all of these things together are hints to the Boss’s eldritch nature.

However, he can still influence his employers. If he sees someone get out of line, he would simply have to put them back in place. Alan, however, never gave Boss any hassle, not even when he first found him. You could say he has a clean track record when it comes to his job. Until doe-eyes that is. When I say that Boss kinda has favorites. He truly does.

I think Alan was too young, beaten down and scared to rebel and so obeyed without question. I think the Boss liked that. Alan is wolf coded but was as obedient as a lamb. Or the Boss’s loyal dog, used to guard and attack.

I had a blast reading through all of this

thank you tumblr user krowspiracyanon!

#conspiratorial ramblings #is it true?? idk i won't say

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pedropascallme · 1 year

Note

u said u are always looking for a reason to write jim smut so let me deliver bc i’m actually so fixated on this movie it’s CRAZYYY!!!!! anyways i would like like a build up to a confession kind of? like there’s so so much romantic and sexual tension and it just like breaks and yeah😭😭 idk if that makes any sense but yk!! ok thank u so much!!! you are amazing dude

In Our Perfect Present Tense

Pairing: Jim x f!Reader

Summary: "And where had this sudden, deep infatuation with Jim come into play? Was it sudden?"

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), p in v, fingering, praise kink, Jim can be soft!dom if I say so!! Allusions to canon typical violence, I know Cillian Murphy is 5'8 but Jim is 6'2 in my mind, if I missed anything please let me know!!

AN: Max you make my heart go badumbadumbadumbadum (good) I hope this is to your liking <3 Also continuing to cross tag my Cillian fics because my Jim fics rarely gain traction so we are trying some METHODS.

The cottage was so quiet.

You could hear Hannah shift under the blanket and sigh in her sleep, and though seeing her so peaceful made you feel a pang of protectiveness, watching her chest rise and fall, your mind was elsewhere. Maybe you were still in London, or Manchester, or anywhere else; maybe this was all fake and you had died somewhere along the way. Was this Heaven? Or maybe Purgatory, given that nothing seemed to have changed much.

And where had this sudden, deep infatuation with Jim come into play? Was it sudden?

No. You closed your eyes and his face flashed across your mind; eyes you wanted to drown in and cheekbones sharp enough to make you bleed. Maybe that’s why you kept him around in the first place. You’d never had to help him, save him from the congregation that chased him down the road; never had to take him to your hideout in the underground. At first, (and you knew this for a fact, at least) it was simply because Mark…bored you. He was cheesy and had a chip on his shoulder, and you didn’t like how he looked at you—didn’t like that he seemed to expect you to fall in love with him. Jim made a good buffer. And it helped that he had such kind eyes that seemed to be full of fear and morbid curiosity, and that he was, in every sense of the word, pretty.

You hadn’t been sad when you’d had to kill Mark.

But once you had made it clear to Jim that you didn’t want to fall in love with him, either, your snap judgement fogging your mind, you thought that was the end of it. Thought maybe he would go out like Mark did. And was it really your fault that Jim assumed you didn’t care about him? You didn’t. You wanted him to think you didn’t. Wanted him to think that he was essentially on his own when you ran up the stairs to the top floor, with his head splitting in pain and your legs going as fast as they could carry you. But when he came up to you that night to apologize to you, thank you, hold out an olive branch, it was then you realized that you felt isolated. And, yes, doomsday will do that to you, but it wasn’t just that. It was that even when humanity was rearing its ugly head, Jim still had the time to recognize and respect you; he was willing to put you first in a way nobody would’ve done even if their life didn’t depend on it.

You felt so guilty that night, touching yourself under the covers with everybody else just a few rooms over.

It was one thing to be wandering around the desolate city with him as your only company, but once you had Frank and Hannah (and a car) you felt like maybe, just maybe, there was hope. There was a glimmer of something behind Jim’s eye when you were eating out on the countryside after ransacking the supermarket—and it could’ve been the way the light was hitting him, or the way he laughed with Hannah, or the fact that he was eating fruit for the first time in weeks, but you thought maybe it had something to do with you. Maybe he had figured out that you did care. About him and about the state of things and about what the hell you would do if there was any sort of relief from running away. You thought about kissing him then, and he might’ve, too. There was a certain tenderness in the way he curled up next to you that night, under the stars.

In another life, he might’ve done it for reasons other than keeping warm.

And then, of course, that all came crashing down. It had been too good to be true, and in retrospect you hated yourself for allowing any harm to come to your small posse. You got out alive, but the hope you had was minimal, at best. Was alive good enough anymore? Was alive good enough when you’d fought off every evil you could think of in the span of 12 hours?

No. It wasn’t until Jim turned around, soaking wet and bleeding, that you realized that being alive was no good if he wasn’t there with you to enjoy it. You’d wanted to wrap yourself in him, to feel the sweat and blood caked on his chest and kiss him until you lost consciousness. Instead, you crumpled to the floor in the red dress that had been forced upon you, hugging yourself to his shins and begging him to tell you he was ok. It was mortifying, only made slightly more bearable when Hannah lobbed a bottle over his head. At least you knew there was still humor to be found in the worst of situations.

Shortly thereafter, when Jim got shot, you were certain that it was all over; you might as well follow him out. Maybe you would’ve if it hadn’t been for Hannah crying silently next to you as she floored the gas and begged you to stay. To do something. For once you felt like you had people worth fighting for other than yourself. It made you dizzy.

Which brought you back to the present.

There were two rooms in the cottage; both were damp and smelled like the lint from a dryer, but having a bed was enough. You had discussed the sleeping situation the night of your arrival, and there had only been some mild bickering.

“I’ll sleep on the floor. S’ok.” Jim remained gentlemanly throughout, but it was apparent, to you, at least, that the person with the bullet hole through their stomach should be able to sleep comfortably.

“Hannah and I will take one, you’ll take the other.” You were blunt, dancing around the subject of who would end up sharing by deciding then and there to divide it based on sex.

“Wha—” Hannah began to protest before deciding to shut her mouth.

“It’s really not that big a deal,” Jim stood his ground, “I’ll find something to rest on.”

“Absolutely not.” And that’s where you ended it. Saving face, dismissing any deeper urges, leaving no time for Hannah or Jim to propose a different arrangement.

But now that you were somewhat settled, it felt wrong to be in this room. The wallpaper was a reflective pink, and it felt too bright even in the pitch-black night. You couldn’t get comfortable, and all you could do was mull over every past interaction you’d had with Jim. Every interaction, and the way his mouth moved when he spoke, and the way he smiled at you, and the way he had quite literally killed for you—nearly been killed for you.

You felt hot. Nauseous, even, to the point where you felt that you had to move around or take a walk or do anything to feel more at ease. But it just so happened that you felt the most at ease around Jim.

You tiptoed across the floor and into the hallway. You almost didn’t bother knocking on the door, but felt that you at least owed him that decency.

“C’m’in.”

You peered into the room, allowing yourself a small view of Jim’s shirtless figure splayed out on the bed. You smiled, feeling shy out of nowhere.

“Just wanted to check on you.” You excused yourself, not wanting him to think it any more odd than it already was for you to be in his doorway at midnight. “You feeling ok?”

“Better than ever.” Jim crossed his arms behind his head, sitting up against the pillows. You could see the bandage on his abdomen, and his skin covered in a ray of moonlight.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He smiled, patting the mattress to encourage you to sit with him. You closed the door behind you. “Why’re you really up?”

“Honestly?” You paused to build tension, leaning in slightly, “Hannah snores.” Jim chuckled under his breath. “And…and I don’t really feel at home in that room.”

“Would you feel more at home in this one?”

“Maybe…”

“’Cause if you’d like it, you and Hannah could have it. ‘V’always wanted pink wallpaper, anyway.”

You rolled your eyes, “No, that’s—it’s not that.”

“Then…?” Jim tilted his head slightly, and you looked down and away from him, inhaling deeply.

“Can I stay in here tonight? With—with you?” You could feel your pulse in your throat and though he responded almost immediately, you felt as though hours were passing.

“Sure, f’course.” Jim nodded; eyes wide with eager bewilderment. You swing your legs over the mattress, straightening yourself out beside him. You looked up at the ceiling, lying on your back and waiting to fall asleep.

“Closer.” Jim whispered.

“Hm?”

“Y’can come closer. If you want, I mean.”

“Oh…yeah.” You shuffled closer to him. Somehow you ended up spooning, his hand draped hesitantly over your waist. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, and his breath blowing against the hairs on the back of your neck.

“Comfortable?” He was still whispering, as if he would wake the crickets if he spoke any louder.

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah…” You both fell silent again, and you wondered if he could feel the tension, too, or if it was something you had just made up. You turned over to face him.

“I’m sorry.” You spoke, though his eyes were closed, and you thought maybe he had already fallen asleep.

“For what?” His eyes were still closed when he responded.

“For—you know…” You reached out to graze your fingertips over his bandages, withdrawing it just as quickly when you realized that what you were doing was so forward.

“You didn’t shoot me.”

“I didn’t stop you from getting shot.”

“Not much you could’ve done. Three of us and more of them.” He opened his eyes, “Plus, you drugged Hannah, so just the two of us, really.”

You buried your face into the pillow, “Was trying to help.”

“You did.” Jim reached out to goad you from your hiding spot. “Been nothing but helpful since I met you. Consider this me returning the favor.” You managed to peek an eye out from the pillow to look at him smiling at you. He was so gentle. How could a man who had been comatose while the world was thrown into shambles remain so empathetic?

“Didn’t want you to get hurt.” You mumbled, barely audible when the words came out through the pillow.

“Didn’t want you to get hurt, either. Think I went to all that trouble for myself?”

“No.” You brought your head up to fully look at him.

“Exactly. You would’ve done the same for me.”

“You say that with so much confidence.”

“Cause it’s true. Cocky, but it’s true.”

“It is.”

“True?”

“Cocky,” you smiled when he feigned defeat, “but also true.” You quieted again, keeping eye contact with one another. Jim’s smile faded slightly.

“Why did you help me?” He asked.

“Hm?”

“In the first place, by the gas station—why did you help me?”

You didn’t know how to answer. “I needed the company.”

“You had company.”

“I needed company I would enjoy.”

“What if I wasn’t enjoyable?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I was willing to take that risk.” You raised an eyebrow back at him, mocking his curiosity and his pushback. “And…I mean, plus, you were…I d’know. Tragic. And pretty.”

“Pretty?” His other eyebrow shot up.

“And tragic.” You giggled. “It’s not like I saw you tearing down the street screaming and thought that you only deserved help ‘cause you were good looking, it was just—it’s why I kept you around.” You rolled your eyes, trying to stop yourself from sounding too sincere, unsure if Jim was willing to recognize the attraction you had toward him. Unsure of whether or not you were willing to admit it right here, right now.

“You liked me.” Jim teased.

“I like you,” you clarified, “Present tense.” You averted your eyes from his gaze, opting instead to look down at his wound once more. He gawked at you, grinning. Placing a hand on your chin, he redirected your gaze to his face.

“How long have you been holding out on me?”

“What?”

“How long’ve you been wanting to say that? Not since day one, hm? Since we went to my parents’ house?”

“Didn’t want to say it,” you huffed, “wanted to help you stay alive.”

“C’mon, all that talk about how you didn’t care if I fell in love with you? Cared more than you let on, I knew it. Could’ve saved us so much time if you just came out with it.”

“Shush.” You tried not to dwell on his words, the realization that, this whole time, he was waiting for you.

“Say it again.” He gleamed, “say it again.”

You took his hand from your face, holding it in your own. “Jim,” you brought his hand to your chest, “I like you.”

You couldn’t take a breath before he was on you. You felt his lips first, plush against your own, and then his hands over your waist and his legs tangling with yours. For someone who had almost bled out less than a week ago, he was shockingly quick on his feet. You wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling the release of weeks’ worth of tension that had been festering inside of you when his tongue slipped between your lips. You moaned, hands grabbing at any part of him you could reach: You felt his chest against your own and ran a trail down his spine with a finger, feeling him shiver at your touch. He ground his hips into you slightly and you reached for his arms, pulling him in as close as you possibly could.

“Knew it.” He whispered when you pulled away for air. “Knew it.” He began sucking on your neck, running his tongue over your pulse point and licking stripes down your throat. You gasped at the feeling, still trying to touch him wherever you could. You found yourself stroking his jawline while he sucked bruises onto your chest, feeling the way his cheeks hollowed when he made an especially strong mark.

“Jim—” You pleaded, trying to touch him, feel him, all around needing him. It was almost all too much.

He returned to eye level. “Mm?” He kissed your neck again, soothing over the fresh hickeys. “Tell me what you need.”

“You—need you.”

“C’mon,” his grin returned, “specifics.”

“Please,” you needed to feel everything, everywhere, “fuck me.”

“God, sounds so pretty coming out of that mouth.” He stood up from the mattress, pulling you up slightly to allow him to disrobe you. It didn’t take much effort; the threadbare clothes you were trying to pass off as pajamas had already practically disintegrated the moment you had put them on. He shucked his bottoms off before retaking his place on top of you in bed.

“So fucking beautiful,” he kissed you again, “so, so pretty. Wanted to make you feel so good f’so long.”

Feeling confident, you cupped his cheek in your palm, “touched myself thinking about this.”

“F—when? Thought about me while you touched yourself? Tell me.” It was a breathless demand, and you could feel his erection throbbing above you.

“The night in the apartment. Came on my fingers, came so hard while I thought of how good you’d fuck me—oh!” Your sexy display was cut short when you felt his fingers brush your clit.

“Yeah? Touched right here and thought of how nice I’d fuck this pussy?” You whimpered at the way he massaged you just right, and his words only added fuel to the fire. “Should’ve just asked me to take care of you, baby, would’ve helped.” God, he was wicked. Such a good man, and so, so wicked for speaking to you like this. You arched your back, and he took the opportunity to slide two fingers into your cunt. “Fuck,” he huffed, delighted by how wet you were for him, and your eyes rolled back, “get yourself this wet? Or is it just me?”

“You, fuck, Jim—it’s you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Cocky bastard.” You managed between whines and gasps.

“You love it.” He continued to push his fingers in and out of you, and a delightful squelching noise filled the bedroom. “Fucking beautiful.” He kept at it for a while longer, enjoying the noises you made for him and the way your face contorted when he hit an especially sensitive spot. When he pulled his fingers from you, you sighed, feeling the low of being empty, until he brought the wet digits to your mouth and encouraged you to clean them off for him. He let out a low groan when you began sucking, using your tongue to gather your slick off from in between them. “Yeah, good girl.”

He slotted himself between your thighs, and you could feel the drag of his cock over your stomach. You looked down, wrapping a hand around him and ogling him; so long, so beautifully outlined by thick veins. He gently grasped your wrist, pushing your hand back onto the mattress.

“Wanna make this last.” He half-joked. He kept your arm pinned under him, and you could feel his tip exploring your folds, until finally he pushed himself into you. You let out a shaky, breathless moan as he shallowly thrusted into you, working you open to take him as deep as you could. When he bottomed out, he leaned his forehead against yours, and you could feel the stickiness of sex and sweat on your skin.

“Good, yeah?” He was still being smug, though ensuring you were comfortable. You felt devious, rolling your hips against him and grinning in response, earning a choked “fuck” from him. “Dirty fucking girl.” He pulled out almost entirely before thrusting back into you, forcefully enough that you felt your back drag against the bed. Your tits bounced as he rocked his hips into you, and he took the opportunity to grab one in his hand, taking the other in his mouth.

“Jim!” You couldn’t remember your own name, could barely remember who you were or how you got here; all you could think was Jim, Jim, Jim. “Fu—uck, oh my god, Jim!”

“Gonna wake up the whole neighborhood?” He was incapable of being serious even in the most intimate of moments, knowing full well that the people in this house were the only living souls for miles. “Gonna make sure everybody knows who’s fucking you?” Your lips parted, letting out small moans and whimpers of his name with every thrust.

You could feel his fingers on your clit again, and the feeling was electric; maybe it was because you had wanted him for so long, and tried to deny it for almost as long, but you’d never felt this good—never felt this perfectly sated. The way he kneaded your swollen bud while pounding into you hard enough to make the bedframe shake, the way he whispered such filthy things into the skin of your breasts, the way he wanted you too.

“Gonna—Jim, I’m gonna cum!” You tried to move in sync with him, but it was all too much; he was everywhere, and it was going to be your undoing. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him to fuck you deeper. He leaned over you, tracing his fingers down your cheek before grabbing your face in one hand.

“Cum for me, baby. So good, my perfect girl, cum on my cock like this.” You were as good as gone. You felt your legs tighten around his body at the same time as your cunt clenched around his length. You dug your nails into the skin of his arm, and he growled at the way your body responded to him. “Yeah, like that—just like that, sweetheart.”

You were trembling, dripping down his cock and unsure of how to rationalize this amount of pleasure in the midst of end times. Who cared, anyway? You felt fuzzy, barely registering Jim’s words as his strokes became messier and rushed, catching up to you with his own high.

“Want it inside,” you mumbled through your haze, “please, inside.”

“Can’t fucki—can’t say that baby, can’t risk it.”

“Please…” You knew how stupid it was, knew that he would have to say no, but you’d be damned if you didn’t at least try.

“When we get out of England—when we get out of England, I’ll fill you up as much as you want. Yeah?” He slammed himself into you, and his words bounced around inside of your head: “When we get out,” “as much as you want.” If you weren’t so spent, you’d cum for him again from that statement alone. “Promise I will, whenever you want it, baby.”

“Mm.” You sighed contentedly at his assurance. “Tummy.”

“Yeah, good girl, gonna paint you with my cum.” He groaned when you reached up to brush your fingers down his happy trail.

“Give it to me. Please, Jim. Needed it f’so long.” Your mouth hung open, sensitive and sore from his cock and his hands, and somehow still so needy for him, desperate to see him to completion. He buried his face in your neck, breathing in your scent and letting your moans fill his ears as his hips stuttered and he pulled out. You felt his knuckles against your stomach as he stroked himself, finally feeling the warmth of his spend land and spread across your abdomen with a long moan of your name. You stayed like that, both of you breathing heavily, Jim lying on top of you. The gluey feeling of his cum on your stomach and your own between your thighs only heightened when he sat up on his elbow, looking down at you to appreciate how pretty you looked after being fucked out, and you could see the strands of cum dripping between your bodies.

“So beautiful.” He kissed you again, and despite the passion from the last kisses still being present, he was significantly gentler with you in your bleary state.

You blinked up at him, smiling through the fog in your brain, and hugging him close to you. “Gonna have to change your bandages. Covered in your own cum.”

“But what a way to go, right?” He laughed, and you buried your face into him further. “Tomorrow,” he promised. “Need a towel?”

“Would it be gross to sleep like this?”

“Gross? No. Uncomfortable? Maybe.”

“I’ll take my chances. Too tired to wash off.”

“As long as you’re alright.” He brushed your hair away from your eyes, maneuvering himself to look down at you while you were pressed to his chest.

“Feel amazing.” You reassured him. “Should’ve said something earlier.”

“No,” Jim pet your hair, smoothing it down over the back of your head, “this was perfect timing.”

“Perfect timing.” You murmured his words back to him in agreement.

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