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fettuccin-e · 7 months

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The Devil In Me

Kinktober Day 8: Rough Sex

Tags: Matt Murdock x Reader, afab!fem!reader, unprotected piv (pls wrap it irl guys dont be dumb), rough sex, degradation, slight sadism/masochism, black suit supremacy, matt is kind of violent but thats rlly just who he is yknow (w/c: 1.6K)

A/N: so like even though most of my shit has rough sex this is like a little rougher than i usually write. but theres fluff at the end because i literally cannot help myself lol (I have been using prompts from this list by flightlessangelwings!)

When Matt comes home to you bloodied and battered, fists curled at his sides and jaw clenched, you aren’t afraid. He’s dangerous right now, a man at the end of a wire, teetering dangerously over the edge of insanity.

He’s been pushed and pushed, the devil within him restless and feral. You know that he’s still the man you love; he’s the same Matty that cooks your favorite foods and listens to audiobooks with you and takes you for walks through Central Park.

You love Matt, and the devil that lives within him. To love him is to accept them both, and you do, without hesitation.

So when he stalks toward you, every inch of him dangerous and volatile, you don’t flinch away. You smooth your hands over his scratchy cheeks, thumbing gently over his lips. Soothing an animal. He brings his hands up to grab your wrists, holding them still against his face. He’s practically vibrating with unshed energy, aching to be set free.

“Need you, please,” he rasps, his voice quiet and rough. It’s more of a question than anything else, you know it is. He always asks, never wants to hurt you. You know that if you were to say no, he’d simply kiss your forehead. He’d tell you he loves you, like he always does, and would go out again. Distancing you from the devil. You’ve never considered saying no, after years of being beside him. These nights are for you as much as they’re for him. They’re brutal, sometimes painful, but you crave them, crave him.

“Yes,” you whisper back to him, and that’s all the confirmation he needs. He growls, and his hands move to grip your hips, hard enough to bruise. They likely will, and later, Matt will kiss them, murmuring little apologies. You’ll giggle at him, telling him that he shouldn’t apologize. You’ll press on them while staring at the mirror, relishing in the soft ache.

Matt kisses you hard, all teeth and spit and tongue, before turning you until your back presses flush against his chest. You let your head lay back against his shoulder as one of his hands snakes down your stomach and under your panties. He cups your pussy without any finesse, his hands rough and calloused against you.

“So fucking wet,” he grunts, and you whine as his hands part your cunt to run a thick finger over your clit. Your hips jerk forward, chasing his touch, but Matt uses his other hands to shove your hips back against him again. You can feel the thickness of his cock through his clothes, pressing against your ass. Against your better judgment, you grind back against him. Testing, teasing. Something you should never do with a caged animal.

“Fucking-” he chokes out, sounding almost angry. “Bend over for me. Now.” You nearly trip over your own feet in your rush to get to the couch. You can feel how soaked you are, your pussy slick and ruining your panties. You slide them off, but as you reach to take off your sleeping shirt, an old Fogwell’s tee from Matt’s dresser, the devil is already upon you.

“I said,” he murmurs, “bend over.” He grips your shoulders, shoving them over the back of the couch until you brace yourself with your hands on the cushions. The edge of the couch digs into your lower stomach, but you can barely feel it, your anticipation clouding your senses. Matt smooths a rough hand over your ass, you barely have a moment to breathe before he’s landing a rough smack against you. Pain radiates through you, and you can feel yourself leaking for him. You choke out a soft moan at the impact, and shake minutely as Matt chuckles darkly.

“Fucking slut. You like getting hit? Fuck, you’re soaked, you love it, baby. I know you do. I can fucking smell it.” You whine as Matt leans over you, his lips brushing against your ear. “You can’t run from me, sweetheart,” he whispers, and you swear that you could pass out from the mixture of anticipation and pure lust running through your veins.

You can hear the rustle of fabric behind you; the undoing of a belt, the sound of a zipper. Your hips twitch minutely when you feel Matt’s hard cock press against you, sliding against your sensitive pussy. The thick head notches against your entrance, and suddenly, Matt is pushing in, in, strong and unyielding. The stretch borders on painful without any prep; Matt is big on a normal day, but he feels even bigger tonight, bullying into your clenching cunt without remorse.

“So fucking tight, shit,” he mutters behind you, and you can only whine in response. He doesn’t give you a moment to adjust, not like he usually does. He uses you, taking and taking without remorse, desperate for it. He pulls out roughly before plunging back in, making you feel every thick inch of him. He works himself in and out of your sopping pussy, clothed hips slapping against your bare skin, chafing it raw and red and aching. Your hips jerk with every unrelenting thrust, barely able to take it as Matt takes you like a fucking toy.

“Yeah, fucking take it. You little slut, my fucking slut. I own you, I own this fucking pussy, you hear me?”

“Yes, yes, God Matt, fuck, I’m yours. I’m yours, baby,” you slur out. You feel hazy, your vision blurry as Matt fucks you. He can barely ever miss the most sensitive part of your pussy in this position. His cockhead jams into your sweet spot again and again, unrelenting and nearly painful with how much pleasure rockets up your spine. One of his hands presses against the small of your back while the other reaches up to wrap his arm around your neck. He pulls you up, your hands leaving the couch cushions. You have no other choice but to grip onto the forearm pressing into your neck as Matt forces you to arch into the air.

Matt’s thrusts get deeper, pulling out less and less, until he's simply humping into your cunt like an animal. Choked out whines of “Matt, yes, yes, fuck, oh my God, Matt,” escape unbidden from your throat.

“That’s right, sweetheart. I’m your God right now. I’m the only one who can fuck this pussy, I’m the only one that knows how much of a whore you are.” Matt’s voice is raspy, overwhelmed and absolutely primal. You nearly scream as the hand Matt has on your stomach snakes down to toy with your throbbing clit. “I’m the only one,” he mutters, “who can make you cum. Right?”

“Yes, Matt, yes, please, please make me cum.”

“Fucking cum, slut. Cum for your God.”

You really do scream as Matt pinches your clit, rough and painful, and suddenly, you’re clenching hard around his cock, your nails digging harshly into his forearm. Matt fucks relentlessly into your pussy as you ride out your orgasm, his thick cock bullying you open, breaking you apart. Your orgasm wanes, but Matt just keeps driving himself in. You’re sensitive, so sensitive; your pussy feels used and achy, but Matt just keeps going. Little tears are starting to leak down your cheeks, and fuck, Matt isn’t stopping. He isn’t stopping, isn’t slowing down.

“Matt, I’m so- I’m so sensitive, baby, you gotta-” you slur, but Matt cuts you off with a swift smack to your over-sensitive clit, your body trembling with the pleasure-pain of it all.

“I don’t have to do anything, you got that? You said I could take you, and I fucking will.” His cock keeps jamming into your pussy, and you can feel your wetness sliding down your shaking thighs. They try to clench themselves closed subconsciously, trying to run from Matt’s onslaught, but it’s a fruitless battle.

You can feel another orgasm building in your stomach, the knot within you clenching tighter and tighter. Matt chuckles from behind you, mocking you as your cheeks burn and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Can feel this fucking pussy clenching again. You really gonna cum again, sweetheart? Even when you’re trying to run, you’re still a fucking whore. I always give this pretty pussy exactly what she needs, right sweetheart? God, she’s sucking me in, like you don’t want me to leave, baby.” Matt’s fingers are still pressed against your achy clit, his thrusts shifting his fingers maddeningly up and down. You’re going to cum, you’re going to fucking cum.

“Give it to me, gorgeous,” Matt growls, and he lifts his hand away from your clit just to slap it back down again, sending stinging, glorious lightning straight up your spine.

You have the briefest thought about the unlikelihood of your survival before you’re screaming all over again, your pussy clenching like a vice. It’s nearly painful, your orgasm. You feel like you’ve been ripped apart, destroyed by Matt’s touch.

Your chest is heaving, shaking, as Matt’s hips begin to stutter in their thrusts.

“Fuck, fuck this pussy’s so fucking good. So fucking tight, ah-” Matt groans, loud and unabashed as he presses himself as deep as he can into your cunt, filling you with his thick cum. You’re weightless, held steady only by Matt and his strong arms. He slips out of you, and you whimper softly at the feeling of his cum running down your slick, ruined pussy.

You barely feel it when Matt turns you in his arms, lifting you into the air to carry you into your shared bedroom. The silk sheets are comforting and cool on your overheated body as Matt lays you gently onto them. He lays next to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. You can hear him vaguely, like you're underwater, cooing about how you are are, how perfect. You breathe against his warm, strong chest, relishing in the closeness.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Matt murmurs into the quiet of the room, and you press a kiss to his skin.

“Mhm,” you mumble. “Love my Matty, love my Devil too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, nuzzling into his chest.

“Well,” Matt whispers, “If I’m your devil, you’re my angel, sweet girl.”

“Hm.” You say. You can already feel yourself drifting off, safe and warm and loved. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“I know you are.”

#hooh boy little bit of my pain kink came out with this one #also the title is so cheesy please ignore it #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x you #daredevil x you #daredevil x reader #daredevil smut #daredevil x female reader

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hotluncheddie · 2 months

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Memories of somethin' even smoking weed does not replace.

wc: 3.3k | cw: alcohol, weed | rated: E | part: 2/2 | tags: pre/post s4 au, handjob, hurt/comfort, raised catholic steve harrington

part 1 | ao3

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00:20 January 4th: Basement

It’s nice, Steve thinks, down here in the basement. Where theres a hazy cloud of smoke from a group in the other corner, cigarettes and weed mixing. Where Steve can relax, let his mind wander to how it smells the same down here as Eddie’s hair had when he leaned towards him on the staircase.

His mind floats there. In the pews, thinking about Eddie. It makes Steve’s knees itch.

He slipped down to the basement because he had to. Too many people up there with solid plans of how to get out. Too many who already made it, visiting Hawkins like a novelty, a little trip to some place you can associate with the past, separate from the present.

They kept trying to draw him in, upstairs, wanted to get to know the guy with the good aim. Some of them don’t even know about King Steve. He’s just some guy, too some, up there. Steve doesn’t know what’s worse.

It all made Steve start to fidget, uncomfortable. He doesn’t have a plan to get out, doesn’t think he could even if he did. Hawkins isn’t a novelty, not to Steve, it holds his leash. He knows he’s tethered to the place, anxious and afraid to step too far over the thresholds. Knows it’s a little pathetic. But he can’t escape the fear that it’ll all fall apart, crack open and gape and he’ll be locked out. Fail those people who he can’t. Loose the barely there grasp he has on their attention already.

But, even in the muddy swamp of his thoughts, he’s enjoying his spot in the corner, on an empty sofa.

He’s definitely feeling the beers now, feels floaty and heavy at the same time. But he also downed a cup of water before sneaking away. So, it’s not taken him too far, not lowered his inhibitions enough to remind him of flower faces and underground fortresses.

It’s more, just, suburban wallowing. A familiar tipsy sort of buzz. A burning in the back of his throat as his brain jumps from brown eyes to varsity hoodies and back to long dark curls.

He does the breathing exercise a nurse taught him. Breaths in, holds it, breaths out, sinks into the couch.

He’s okay. Robins okay. She’s having fun. He’s here and it’s okay.

‘What was that about not liking attention Stevie, hm?’ Eddie asks as he sits down next to him, handing over a plastic cup and knocking their knees together.

Steve starts, tries not to show how his heart rates gone up. How Eddie’s fingers brushing his own makes his blood fizz. ‘What’s this?’ He asks, clearing his throat, blinking to clear his head.

Eddie wiggles his eyebrows, all drama and mischief. ‘Eggnog.’ Then he taps his nose. ‘Special eggnog.’

Steve raises his, takes a sniff. He almost asks Eddie why he’s down here but that would be stupid, and make Eddie leave. He’s not drunk enough to do the first and, also not drunk enough to admit how his chest caves in a little at the thought of the second. ‘Where’d you even get this?’ He settles on.

‘Fridge. Said it goes off tomorrow so, figured I’m kinda doing them a favour.’ Eddie smiles. He speaks so easily, deep and lilting and musical, drawing Steve in with every breath.

Steve shifts on the couch. Lets their knees touch, slide together. It’s heady, and viscose, like swimming through stained glass. Steve wants more. Steve decided to take, wants to take. Can kneel and see what he gets given. Smooth wooden pews. A basement at a party.

Steve downs some, it’s sickly. It’s strong. That buzz seems to double.

He steps into the robes of who he used to be, who kissed Nancy in the girls bathroom. Who’d whisper in girls ears at parties, make them moan. Blow a kiss up at the stands at baseball games. Did it all, like it was nothing.

He sucks air in through his teeth, wincing at the taste. ‘This is gross Munson.’ he says, laughing. He reaches over and pours the rest of his cup into Eddie’s, pushing their shoulders together and feeling the heat radiating off of Eddie’s bare neck. ‘Plus, if I drink any more my dick won’t work.’ He doesn’t think, just says, low and murmured.

The rosary beads are back, circling his throat, Steve thinks he likes the way they bite.

‘Is that so?’ Eddie ask, smile obvious in his voice, gleeful and surprised. Speaking almost in Steve’s ear.

‘Yup.’ Steve turns his head fully to the side, so close to Eddie’s face. Lets his eyelids droop, licks his lips. ‘What about you, King Freak, that never happen to you?’ He’s pushing, treading from shallows into deep muddy depths.

‘Do not fucking call me that dude.’ Eddie shoves him lightly, the way girls used to, push just so they can pull him back in. ‘But yeah, obviously I do know, it’s science man.’

Steve slouches back next to Eddie on the sofa. Still close, still sharing body heat. ‘Dude, man, what’s up with that, bro?’ Steve teases, set alight.

‘What’s up with that, bro?’ Eddie slides a hand down his face with a groan. But Steve can see he’s fighting a smile, hiding it behind his palm. Eddie’s rings glint in the lamplight.

Steve thinks he could get used to this, being so close to Eddie. Watching his face split in half with his grin. Wide open, pink and white. Steve wants to taste.

Eddie looks at him, incredulous, but his eyes are sparkling. ‘For a smart guy, you’re kinda dumb when you drink.’

Steve smirks, but something in him feels porcelain and breakable. ‘Dunno how I fooled ya into thinking ‘m smart. But ok.’ He says, smirk falling, he swallows, remembers again who he is, who he is now.

‘Well you’re the only person on this sofa with a diploma.’ Eddie says, something hard in his eyes, but eggshell thin.

‘Technicalities.’ Steve moves in closer again. As if reaching out.

Steve sees it now, they’re hard-soft. Church wafers before the spit. So similar in their differences. And Eddie knows.

Eddie doesn’t say anything. He stands slightly to pull at the legs of his jeans and put his cup on the floor. When he sits back down Steve notes that they’re definitely closer than before. Hip too hip, shoulder to shoulder. He can feel Eddies bony elbow and the muscle on his thigh, weed-cigarette filling his nose, along with something warm, something Eddie. His eyelashes are long and thick. Steve swallows. Fiddles with his empty cup.

‘Your question before, about attention?’ Steve starts, shifts so he can look up at Eddie’s profile better, take in the line of his nose. ‘I still like it, attention. Just, only when it’s from, certain people.’ And Eddie turns to look at Steve, eyes a little guarded, but Steve takes a chance, glancing at eddies mouth, for just a second, licks his lips. Watches as eddies lips curl up at the corners.

Eddie stands and Steve feels sticky, hot and cold. But Eddie turns towards him, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a perfectly rolled joint.

‘You wanna come outside? Help me smoke this?’ Eddie asks.

Steve looks at it, looks up at Eddie. ‘No.’ Steve looks at Eddie’s handcuff belt buckle. ‘But I’ll come outside with you.’

Steve looks back up through his eyelashes and Eddies eyes are hungry.

00:59 January 4th: Eddies Van

‘Shut. Up. Harrington.’ Eddie says into Steves lips, tugs at the back of his hair and Steve feels his eyes roll back on a moan.

Nancy used to do that to him sometimes. He doesn’t want to think about Nancy. Eddies hands are bigger, stronger. Nancy seemed to get flighty if Steve ever let go too much, unmoored and untethered, she didn’t like to swim in the deep end.

They’re in the back of Eddie’s van, Steve leaning against the side, legs sprawled out in front of him, Eddie in his lap.

He can just hear the the music coming from the house still, its muffled but, they’re not that far, Eddie’s right, Steve supposes.

He also doesn’t really care. He just wants. Smells varnished wood, and incense.

‘Make me.’ He goads and his insides light up at the dark fire enveloping Eddie’s eyes.

‘I knew you’d be dangerous.’ Eddie murmurs to himself.

Steve desperately wants to know what the fuck that means. But Eddie just stubs his blunt out and pinches the end to save it for later. ‘Hold this’ he taps it against Steve’s bottom lip and Steve opens immediately. Tongue darting out to wet his lips, taste Eddie on them. ‘Don’t let it fall, okay Stevie?’

Steve nods, rock hard. An intense, soul crushing need to be good has him clamping his lips tightly around the joint, ear ringing.

The clack of his belt being undone makes Steve close his eyes and breathe deep through his nose. Eddie palms Steve’s cock over his jeans, eyes hooded and dark.

Eddies nimble fingers go for his fly, he lifts one of Steve hands to rest on his shoulder. Gets his cock out of his boxers so fast Steve feels himself sink, the van melting away until it’s just Eddie. Just Eddie in his lap and the smell of smoke and ash. Steve holds on for dear life.

He lets his other hand come to Eddie’s hip, thumb stroking where his t-shirt sits at his waistband, dipping to feel skin. Eddie’s hand on his cock is making him feel desperate, but he doesn’t make a noise, just feels his eyes wet.

‘That’s it, staying so quiet, take what you need.’ And Steve’s lets his hand roam. He wants to feel, touch skin. He strokes Eddie’s neck, fingers trailing over his torso, searching up under his shirt. Slips his hand around to Eddie’s back pocket and squeezes. Eyes rolling in his head again over Eddie’s lean lines, his sharp edges and soft parts. The hand twisting his dick so perfectly. He’s not gonna last.

He opens his eyes again and Eddie’s bore into him. Dark and big and eating him whole. His mouth is open, slack, relishing in taking Steve apart. Steve whines weakly in his throat, Eddie’s hand comes up and grabs that handful of hair again, tugging once.

Steve tips over the edge, spilling into Eddie’s hand. Shuddering through his orgasm with a muffled groan, his hands still squeezing what they can reach of Eddie. One hand under his t-shirt, fingers in ribs, Steve wants to crack Eddie open, reach inside.

Eddie tucks him back in his boxers. Takes the joint from his lips and places it behind his ear. Steve’s breathing still not back to normal but he leans in for another kiss. Needs to feel tongue and heat and know that this is really real. Really happening.

That it’s not Steve of ’84 or ’85, that he made it to ’86. That he survived, that he didn’t nail himself on a cross and leave the rest up to fate. That he chose, he offered and took.

Eddie kisses back holding his jaw with a clean hand and sucking on Steve’s lower lip. Steve goes for Eddie’s fly but his mouth gets pulled off, Eddie pinching him at the chin.

‘S’all good sweet thing. Can’t cum when I’m crossfaded, mind gets all muddled and I can’t focus enough.’ And he says it with a smile, like it’s no big deal, just a fact. Steve feels his insides churn with need.

He needs to repay the favour. That’s how, how he can show it. Show how he needs, how he wants. How his hearts is just begging to be ripped out, bloody and still beating. And he can give that over, he can. He wants to.

Eddie pecks his lips again and moves off of Steve’s lap, tossing the hanky into a corner.

‘I gotta find Rob first but, uh, you wanna come to mine? Hang out? My parents aren’t home.’ Steve asks, maybe he can still fix this, keep it. His voice is higher than normal, still breathy. He clears his throat, swallows, tries to feel the van under his feet.

Eddie’s settles across from him, holding his lighter. He looks over with a little lazy smile. ‘Ah, sorry toots, that’s a little too close to romance for me.’

Steve tries not to let his cracks show, but he knows his valleys can open, sometimes the maw in his chest can’t be close quick enough. ‘What’s wrong with romance?’ He asks, his bandaged up heart lodged in his throat.

‘Just not something I do, it’s no stress, I’ll just see you around Harrington, yeah?’ And it’s so casual. So final.

Steve swallows and nods and checks his fly is done and slips out the back door. Hopes his cracks weren’t too blatant, too ugly.

He aches. He needs to confess.

6:15 July 15th: Hawkins General, Room 136

Eddie was finally healing. His blood had been drawn and his skin had been grafted, he’d taken his meds and even attended a couple government mandated therapy sessions.

He’d admitted in them that yeah, he didn’t trust easy. But no one other than Wayne had shown him they cared with such consistent acts of kindness. Everyone else left him in the dirt. So no, he doesn’t trust easy.

They’d said you have to give people a chance to be kind to you, and if they do fuck up you’re always within your power to leave. But that sometimes kindness goes both ways.

Eddie knew that. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t still terrifying.

Even more terrifying because Eddie had a face for the kindness. A place he aches to send his own, packaged and pretty and waiting to be unwrapped.

See, Steve Harrington was kind. Steve Harrington gave Eddie some of his blood, he’d helped the nurses change his bandages once or twice when the staff numbers were too sparse during a shift. Filled his water cup and cut his ugly but actually pretty good hospital meatloaf for him.

He’d kept Eddie squeaky clean, no chance of being kicked in the dirt, left dead in a ditch, whatever metaphors works best.

Steve was good. Eddie knew it. He did. But that doesn’t mean he’s not scared.

Because Eddie wanted to be kind back. He hoped holding Steve’s hand though getting his blood drawn, and letting him nap half curled on Eddie’s bed were enough for now. To let Steve see. See that he always wants to stroke his hair if a nightmare hits, not just when they’re fresh from hell. That he always wants to hold his hand, not just when there’s needles involved.

It’s actually, like, all the time that he wants to hold it, it’s really bad. Terminal.

The first time Steve filled his water unprompted Eddie honestly thought he heard a church bell ring, like, how can someone be so good?

And, even worse maybe, is that Steve Harrington was also a dork.

A genuinely silly guy. Cracking jokes unprompted just to get someone to laugh, someone to groan which makes someone else laugh. And he sits amongst it, this happy little chaos he’s created, and he beams.

Eddie thinks about it sometimes. That night in his van, at that random house party he can’t remember. He only remembers Steve, where Steve was, what he was doing, how he looked. Eddie thinks about that.

Thinks about his face when Eddie said he couldn’t hang out, how he seemed to masking tape himself back together, disappointed and fragile. But Eddie just couldn’t take anything further. Couldn’t risk letting Steve see him.

Sometimes Steve follows Wayne to the hospital chapel. He doesn’t ask, but he wants to. Wants to know who Steve prays to, what about, why his knuckles are still bruised when most of his other injuries are healing. Why he never talks about his parents. Why he hates the colour red. Where he goes when he zoned out and his whole face mangles into a frown, into an aching maw, Eddie wants to know, if just to help a little, ease his pain.

Eddie thinks about Steve, as he knew him and as he knows him now. About people being kind, about a therapist saying it goes both ways. And Eddie thinks he wants to be brave.

For Steve Harrington, Eddie can be brave.

‘Look what I snuck in for you today, fit for a king, no?’ Steve slips two Yoo Hoo’s from the inside of his jacket. Coming to sit in the plastic chair by Eddie’s bedside.

(Covered in crochet blankets that Robin brought over the moment she clocked that Steve fell asleep here sometimes. Steve likes to stick his fingers through the holes while they watch tv. Eddie likes to watch Steve’s fingers.)

He looks tired, Steve, deep purple stains under his eyes. But Robin said he’s brighter when he’s here, knowing Eddie and Max are alive, getting to see them. She said it was like he forgets when he’s not here, ghosts clouding his vision. Maybe it’s just more distracting here. Eddie doesn’t know. He just knows Steve’s here now. That he brought him chocolate milk and that he’s smiling.

Eddie holds the drink up to the light with two hands, opening his eyes wide, like it’s something holy. ‘Ah, the stuff of angels.’

Steve snorts and reaches up to open it for him. Eddie’s heart clenches.

Steve is kind, and good and brave. Eddie can try and be half that, for Steve.

He takes a sip, watching Steve do the same. ‘This kinda reminds me of eggnog.’ He muses, heart rate picking up.

‘I’m not putting whisky in it Eddie, Wayne would skin me alive.’ Steve says, flat. Beaming when Eddie snorts. He’s so wide open, so eager, and bright.

‘I know that.’ Eddie says. ‘Just, I guess it’s you then, reminding me, of eggnog.’ He tries, hiding behind his riddles.

Steve looks confused, glancing between their drinks and Eddie’s face.

He needs to spell it out, Steve deserves his plain honesty, Eddie takes a deep breath.

‘I’ve been thinking.’ Eddie starts.

‘Dangerous’

‘Shhh!’ Eddie fights down a grin. This is serious. He, ugh.

‘I’ve been thinking about uh, changing opinions’ Eddie tries again, folding his hands in his lap and squeezing the pads of his fingers with his nails.

‘Oh yeah?’ Steve’s still wide open, still pleased and bright.

‘Yeah, first is that maybe, ah, maybe I do want to try romance. Now, actually.’ Eddie forces. Holding his breath.

Something flickers across Steve’s eyes. half hopeful, half guarded. He turns his head, but his eyes stay trained on Eddie.

Eddie flounders, for a second. Aware suddenly of where they are, how this is maybe not the most romantic place to talk about it. Them. But, Eddie also doesn’t want to wait any longer. He’ll be able to leave soon, he just, he wants. Needs Steve to know, before everything changes again, while he’s between worlds and mostly healed and Steve it here. Steve was smiling.

‘Maybe I’ve found someone who, who deserves it.’ Eddie takes a deep breath. ‘Who I couldn’t be there for before, but I want to be here for now.’

Steves eyes soften ‘Oh.’ he whispers, fighting down a smile, looking down at his lap. He fidgets, pulls at his jacket, takes another swig of his drink.

He moves his chair closer to Eddie. Won’t look him in the eyes but he grabs Eddie’s hand that’s sitting on top of the bedsheet, linking their fingers together.

‘Wheel of Fortune’s almost on’ Steve’s says, looking ahead, still not letting his smile fully bloom. He’s squinting. It’s ridiculous.

Eddie grins. ‘Yeah, right right, of course’ He squeezes Steve’s hand and grabs the remote. Vows to not let go unless he has to, vows to keep Steve safe, help his bruises heal. Show him romance and kindness and love.

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written for Lex’s Spicy Six Winter Challenge! run by @thefreakandthehair and using the prompt: 'spiked eggnog'. it’s finished! ty again for organising!!!

Tag list (open): @pearynice @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @scoops-aboy86 @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor @marvel-ous-m

Also tagging: @museumgiftshoperaser @kas-eddie-munson @ellietheasexylibrarian @sofadofax @i-amthepizzaman @estrellami-1

title from 'stick season' by noah kahan (edited slightly to fit better)

#it’s finished <3 #hotlunch #steddie #steve x eddie #my fic #pre s4 au #catholic steve harrington #<3

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runs-red · 19 days

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Why the Radqueer community is harmful.

[This has been more or less a side-vent for me so it's a little un-organised and full of half-thoughts. | Civil discourse is encouraged]

Just to start off, yes, not all radqueers believe the same thing. This is about the community as a whole and what is generally accepted there. I was a radqueer when I was a bit younger. I’m talking about the patterns I recognise and the things I’ve personally seen in the community.

Since this is a common denominator, I’ll point this out first: the “acceptance and support of everything” is way too high to the point where it becomes harmful. Which doesn’t sound like something that could be possible. I remember being a radqueer and thinking the concept of acceptance being harmful was a crazy concept, but yes, acceptance can be harmful. A lot of the things I'll be pointing out wouldn't be an issue if there were a level of intolerance and a point where people would put their foot down. Acknowledging that paraphiles aren’t something people choose to have and that they can control their actions (pro-para) is completely different from acting like paraphilias are the same as being gay and that the big three can have contact (radpara).

Radical acceptance of paraphilias and contact.

Contact stance discourse is seemingly never-ending, radical pro-contacts and ideology pop up consistently enough, and sexual abuse and grooming have been reported from the community consistently. The community's environment is just prone to attracting these kinds of beliefs too, even if there are people in the community who are against them. Consensual abuse and seeking or being in toxic relationships are also somewhat relevant in the community. It doesn't really seem like "just" kink to me, because in a BDSM relationship, terms like "transgroomer" aren't used, and it's not about fuffiling a transtion.

Normalisation of Self-Harm.

There is no shortage of transharmed terms and transition tips in the tags, as well as vent and fantasy posts. Again, the issue isn’t the feeling. Feeling like you should be hurt is relatively common. The issue is that this is just being encouraged and not dealt with properly. I feel like transharmed terms would be better if the transition tips were about coping with that feeling, trying to get better, and dealing with the root cause rather than “hurt yourself or roleplay being hurt.”.

Acceptance of socially insensitive/offensive content.

From racial transition tips to transharmful terms to genuine contact discourse, there’s a wide variety of wildly insensitive content in the tags. There's a difference between being socially unconventional and supporting terms like transnazi and telling people to tan their skin to look brown.

If your thinking it's ironic a pro-fiction person is talking about things like insensitive content - I think theres a huge difference between saying that gross ass kinky fiction and gross ass sex scenes can exist in fiction, and supporting real school shooter edits and encouraging black face. I also am allowed to have limits on what I think is okay and not okay like anyone else.

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Again, I don't think the issue is in being pro-para and pro-non-normative dysphoria but in the overall toxic environment in the community.

#I repeat - this is messy af.#anti radqueer #radqueer #reds.discourse

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whoretan · 2 years

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ARK 45 | 02

Summary: After what turned out to be an unsuccessful night, Jimin invites you over to his apartment where things certainly go in another direction.

WC: 3.5k

Play me while you read.

Pairing: Club Owner/Mafia!Jungkook, Hitman!Reader (ft. Jimin)

tags: um, so reader n jimin, yeah, fuckin against a window, slapping, dirty talk, murder and torture, possessive jimin???, jimin is a sadist, im sorry for what ive done, theres like 10% plot, 90% porn, reader will smash jk soon i swear

Chapters: 1 | 2 (ur here)

The screams of ache bouncing across the wooden walls are only driving your frustration further.

You enjoy hurting people, but tonight, you have no patience for the whiny asshole Jimin left you to deal with.

And typically, you have the patience of a fucking saint.

About fifteen minutes after you left ARK, Jimin texted you the geo-coordinates to a random location that won’t show up on any Google searches.

Jimin doesn’t trust anyone but you to do his dirty work. So while he gets to pounce around the city like an angel in a suit, you’re stuck dealing with the tedious and messy portion of the job. Then again, it pays well, so, there’s no room for complaining.

“I’m about three seconds away from slicing your tongue off,” you warn. “And I don’t plan on being nice about it either, John.”

“Jesus fuckin’ christ lady,” he cries like a little bitch. “Jungkook don’t tell us which warehouse he keeps the shipments in, that’s for the upper guys.”

John has about five seconds left before he goes knocking on God’s door.

“So what you’re telling me is that you’re useless?” You deduce, grabbing his chin roughly to part his saliva-covered lips.

“No, no, no,” he pleads. “There’s someone at ARK that can get you the information you want.”

Sweat drips down his nose, mixing with the blood riddling his face. John’s bald, somewhere in his late thirties, and a whiner. He has a wedding band on his left hand, probably some kids too, not that any of it’s your concern.

You’d already cut off two of his fingers, stabbed his Achilles heel, and are coming close to slicing his tongue off. Normally, you like to play this thing slowly. The slower the better, the more likely the chance of getting whatever unfortunate fucker landed in your hands to spill the information you need.

John cringes away from the knife, tears bubbling out from beneath his lashes.

“Dude name is Tony. H-he’s one of the security guards. B-big n’ tall, huge snake tattoo on his face.”

You roll your neck, groaning as the muscles pop. It’s been a long fucking day, and you’re still wearing the damned hooker dress that Jimin had dropped off for you.

“Great, thanks,” you say casually as if you haven’t spent the past hour torturing him.

His breathing calms, and he looks up at you through his dull, ugly eyes and hope radiates from them. You almost laugh.

“So, y-you’ll let me go, right?” he asks, staring up at you like a little kid begging for a toy.

“Sure,” you say.

“Are you serious?” he pleads.

“No, John,” you grin. “I’m not.”

You swing your arm back and plunge the entirety of your knife through his temple.

He dies instantly, slumping forward against the rope that bonded him to the chair.

You slide your knife from his skull, the noise threatening to ruin your dinner plans. This is unfortunate because you’re really fucking hungry.

The knife squelches against the skin, taunting and unwilling to leave the flesh. And sure, while you enjoy a good torture session, you don’t get off on the sounds that accompany it.

Typically on a night like this, you’d dismember poor little John and then dump his remains into the cremator you and Jimin keep at a warehouse off the grid.

But, not tonight.

You weren’t even supposed to be on the clock, besides the obvious shit show that happened at ARK.

You sigh, pulling out your phone from your bra, and cringe at the sight of blood smudging onto the screen. It’ll be a bitch to clean later, so you wipe it down on your matching red dress.

going home. going to light a cig first.

Light a cig being code for burning down whatever building you’re in.

Shoving the phone back into your bra, you bend down to John’s level, searching through his pockets. Dude’s like him almost always have a smoking problem, and besides, the fucker smells like it too. Mixed with his own piss that is of course.

Your hand lands on the familiar plastic and you sigh thankfully, one less headache for you.

There’s a vibration against the shell of your tit and you straighten your back, pulling out the device again. Jimin’s name is written in bold letters atop your notification center.

good. come by my apartment.

Something inexplicably dark arises in your chest.

Jimin never asks you to come over.

You suck in your bottom lip, biting back a groan. Goodbye dinner it is.

Sure, why the hell not?

A ping sounds, and the doors to Jimin’s penthouse apartment open.

He lives fifteen or so minutes away from your own apartment, but on top of the already fifty-minute drive home from the barn— you’re not exactly thrilled by any account to be here.

He stands by the door, gaze entirely locked on yours and you can’t help but scowl. So what? It’s four in the damn morning and no human being should look this well put together at this hour.

Jimin wears black lounge trousers, a low-cut robe with embroidered flowering, and that damned rosary he can’t seem to ever take off.

“Come in,” he motions his head toward the inside of his apartment.

You nod, locking in your bottom lip as you slip past your boss. A sliver of something that shouldn’t be so pleasant curls in your stomach— the smell of the deep and citrus oceanic cologne he always has on invades your senses.

Jesus.

The feeling is so strong and sudden that you exhale a breath to try and push it away.

He steps into the apartment after you, and with a click, locks the door. This feels all too intimate.

“So?”

You blink.

“So?”

He sighs. “Jungkook.”

Fuck.

The chance of you admitting you performed a lap dance for Jeon Jungkook is zero. You’d cut your own tongue off before you ever admit that you might’ve slightly enjoyed it.

You sigh. “He wasn’t in. I’m going to call the front desk tomorrow.”

Jimin quirks a brow, and the playful tug to the corner of his lips tells you all you need to know. He doesn’t believe a single word you just said.

You groan and turn around, making a beeline to the cloud couch he had you order last year. You sink into the white cushion and moan at the softness that envelopes your frame, it feels like heaven on Earth. Soft as hell and a hundred times better than the one in your own home.

“Where’s the dress?” Jimin appears from behind you, the hint of that smirk still remaining on his face— just the slightest curl in his lips. His eyes travel over your body, and you feel the intrusion.

You roll your eyes. You’ve changed into a skirt and long sleeve shirt. Not your best look, but it’s better than what Jimin deemed to be a dress. “I gave it to the hooker outside.”

He chuckles and the sofa beside you dips.

A beat passes and then Jimin says, “I’m going to have to fuck the information out of Miranda.”

You release a heavy breath at the sudden change of atmosphere. What the fuck is going on with him tonight?

Turning your head to face your boss, you watch his tongue travel over his bottom lip. His gaze drops to your exposed legs, and you subconsciously clench your thighs in response.

It’s too hot in here. Way too fucking hot. You have to divert the conversation somewhere else, somewhere where he isn’t devouring your skin like it’ll be his last meal.

“Jimin, is everything okay?”

He doesn’t break eye contact but the darkness envelops his eyes.

“No ___, it’s not.” He looks away momentarily to sigh, then meets your gaze again. “Jungkook wants me dead, and once he finds out about you he’ll kill you too. I just found out that he’s already on Hobi’s trail and now I’m gonna have to spend almost all my time playing prince charming for his annoying fucking sister when I just really want to spend my time fucking you.”

Your breath hitches and you have to look away from the fiery gaze. Diverge. Don’t think.

Not once in your career has Jimin made any moves on you. Hell, before tonight you hadn’t even stepped foot into his apartment. The thought of having sex with your boss had been only a mere daydream on your first night on the job, never again.

“Jimin, I don’t think that’s a good idea.“

Without hesitation, he shifts closer to you, hand touching the bare skin of your lower thigh. “Why not? I’ve had people breathing down my fucking neck every day all week. I can’t even fuck anymore because I’m too paranoid they’re a spy Jungkook’s sent on me.”

The confession has you blinking, shell-shocked. Since when has Jimin become this paranoid about Jungkook?

His body presses against yours, sandwiching you between him and the cushion. You stifle a gasp when he leans in and the warmness of his breath courses your lobe. “He knew who you were tonight.”

Everything stills, one second Jimin’s hovering over you, warm breath tickling your skin as your stomach does laps. The next, you’re pushing him off of you, sending him hurling off of the couch and backward. He regains his composure and inches forward again, like a predator about to devour its prey. He grabs both of your wrists to prevent you from clawing his eyes out of their sockets.

Your heart pounds in your chest. Jimin sent you into ARK when Jungkook knew what you looked like?

Holy shit.

Jungkook knows what you look like.

He knew tonight and still had you grinding on his hard cock.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the hurricane brewing in your chest.

Fuck, fuck. You’re going to lose your shit and possibly strangle your boss.

“I need you to calm down,” he grits against your hold, pushing his body completely onto yours, leaving you limp in his hold. “I didn’t tell you because I wanted to see what his reaction would be.”

You lock your gaze with his, anger dancing in all the curvatures of your face. You feel tiny and helpless encased in his hold. Even more, you’re surprised he has the strength to hold you like this, unmoving, unfaltering like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

What if Jungkook decided to kill you?

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He leans in, warm breath caressing your lobe. “Doesn’t it excite you? That he played along with your little game, Joanna?”

“Jimin, I’m fucking serious, I—“

He’s so heavy on top of you, his chest moves rapidly as he presses further into you. You feel the apples of his cheeks rise against your neck, “Did you fuck him?”

This is too much. Too much all at once. You’re suffocating in Jimin’s scent, his breath, his voice.

You shake your head and close your eyes.

“You wanted to though, right?” He whispers amusingly.

He’s enjoying this. He’s bathing in your discomfort, the way your twitching against him, withering away from his hold, pushing your neck away, he basks in it. This should be wrong, it should terrify you.

Yet, it doesn’t. His weight feels good, it feels exhilarating to lose control for once. To be the given instead of the giver, to have your freedom stripped bare.

So, instead of screaming you confess, “Y-yes.”

Jimin hums, sending a wave of vibration through your neck. He licks a strip from the bottom to the shell of your lobe, “And do you want me to fuck you, too?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Your mind draws a blank and the only thing that pounds through it is, yes, yes, yes.

“Yes.”

“What’d he tell you?” Jimin asks as he releases your wrists from his grip. You let them drop to the cushion without a fight.

He doesn’t stand from the couch, instead, he digs his knee further into the space between your opened legs and straightens his back. When your eyes meet, his eyes are dark, low, and filled with an intimacy you’ve never seen before from him.

“He said he doesn’t hire whores,” you sigh at the recollecting memory. The sounds of Jungkook’s laughter as he walked out of his office to call the guards fills your mind.

It’s Jimin’s very own laughter that drags you back to the present.

“How ironic,” He muses.

He’s terrifying like this, dominating you in every way possible as he looms above you. He undoes the piece of fabric keeping his robe pieced together and lets the sides fall. You flinch subconsciously when he raises his hand to grab your chin.

“Do you want me to fuck you like a whore, ___?”

You catch your breath at the monster before you. It’s not the words that leave you breathless, it’s the sweet smile accompanying them. The same one he gives you when he walks into the building in the afternoon, or when he hands you a check after a mission saying you’ve done a great. It’s welcoming, friendly, and utterly fucking terrifying.

This is a horrible idea. Slowly, you nod.

“Good.”

The sound comes first, then the realization. You blink repeatedly as your vision blurs, the impact so brutal it’s left you looking in the other direction. Then, the pain. Sizzling, stinging, and painfully hot. Your cheek will bruise, without a doubt. You moan.

When you turn your head around to face Jimin his smile only grows, wider and wider. He pushes his knee further into your cunt, the friction bringing it alive. “Again.”

This time, he hits the other cheek.

Adrenaline courses through your veins, it pulses in every one of your nerves, and it sends your body ablaze along with it. The pain feels so fucking good.

You want him to cut you open and eat you alive.

Without another word, Jimin pushes his knee off of the couch, cracks his neck, and points toward the exposed windows, “Strip.”

You oblige, following the command like a lost puppy. He backs away, giving you space as you push off of the couch and toss your clothes. Avoiding the intruding stare, you turn around and walk to where you know he wants you. The air in his apartment is freezing, leaving you with hard nipples and goosebumps.

The windows are completely open to the world.

Anyone in the other high rises will be able to see you. They can see you.

The city’s beautiful, shimmering lights keep it alive in the darkness. In the reflection of the glass, you see Jimin stalking toward you as if he has all the time in the world.

He stares at your legs, ass, and back, then he meets your gaze in the reflection. When he reaches your heel, his hands graze your stomach, and his lips meet the back of your neck in soft slow kisses. It’s when his hand pushes past your stomach and below your underwear that the ecstasy hits you.

He’s slow, painfully so, his middle finger slides through your folds and you feel teeth etch themselves into your shoulder. The cold metal of the ring grazing your clit finger sends a shiver down your spine, you release a groan and he bites harder on the flesh.

He rubs your clit with two fingers, allowing you to savor in the warming pulses rippling through your cunt. Through the pleasure, you feel him pushing his hard cock into your ass, grinding onto the exposed flesh.

You’re moaning like hell, unable to contain how good it feels to have someone dominating you, relishing in your body. He releases your clit and moves his fingers downward, instantly sticking two digits in your hole. The pain from how hard he’s biting into your shoulder, undoubtedly drawing blood, with how fast his fingers pulse in and out of you sends you into another dimension.

In the back of your mind, you hear the slow rhythm of The Weeknd’s song filling the air, transcending you back in time. Jungkook’s low growl and how hard his dick felt on your ass as you danced for him.

The fact that you made him hard even though he knew who you are.

The fact that he wanted to fuck you regardless of the idea that you possibly murdered his father.

He let you grind on him, feel all of him.

He wanted you.

You want him right now. Want to feel the swell of his cock again, hear him say those nasty arrogant words, and steal them from his lips.

“Just like that,” Jungkook growls against your ear.

You open your eyes, panting hard, it’s Jimin who stares back into the reflection, smirking at your battered form. You’re spasming all over his fingers, pussy pulsing in a rhythmic beat as you orgasm. You’re moaning, hands pressed flat against the glass.

Jimin doesn’t wait for you to finish riding the waves of your orgasm. He takes his fingers out of you, leaving your cunt clenching against nothing. You’re too occupied with calming your breaths to hear the fabric of his trousers tossing, to hear him his as he hisses when he uses the same fingers he used in you to wet his cock.

You do, however, feel him push your thong to the side and the swell of his cock at your entrance. You’re so ready, you’ve never been more ready for anything else. It’s been two fucking years. God, you can’t fucking think straight.

“Fuck me al—“

The words are stolen from you when Jimin pushes himself into you completely, he doesn’t let you catch your breath, doesn’t give you time to formulate any words, he just goes.

With one hand, he grabs the back of your neck and slams your face into the glass. The coldness of it feels good on your cheek, the mixture of the hard surface and the pounding has you grinding through your teeth, it’s too much. It encompasses you, filling you like nothing else in the world can.

Jimin fucks you relentlessly, pounding in you at light speed. He’s breathing hard, but he doesn’t stutter. The sound of flesh colliding with flesh fills the quietness of his apartment, you can’t help but moan.

“The world’s watching you.” He releases your neck, quickly switching over to grab a bundle of your hair and yank your head toward the flashing city.

It’s blurry, all over the place, and you moan like a whore for it.

“Watch them,” Jimin growls.

He’s fucking you faster than before, your stomach bubbles with the formation of a second orgasm. You can’t think, can’t breathe, you’re just taking. Taking Jimin’s cock as he gives it to you, as he takes everythingfrom you.

You close your eyes, and your head falls limp. Everything feels so slick, so wet. Jimin’s cock is easing in and out of you, his free hand grips your exposed boob, massaging it.

“Open your fucking eyes,” He releases your tit, slapping it before grabbing your chin to face the world before you. “Watch them as I fuck you.”

A muffled sound escapes you, he’s let go of your hair, exposed chest flat against your back as he continues thrusting.

“You’ll kill anyone for me,” He says, voice wavering in pleasure, “I just need to say the name.”

Your heart and head pound because he’s right. The second he says a name, the life has already been taken from them. They’ve been handed over to the Grim Reaper, and fuck, does Park Jimin own you.

Every command is his, and every action of yours is done by his accord.

Jimin’s hips are stuttering now, he’s mumbling something but you can’t get the thought out of your head, can’t hear the words.

You’ll do anything to fulfill his command. Anything.

Your stomach coils, and your pussy pulses faster than before. You feel Jimin’s falls hitting your cunt with each thrust and it feels too good. It’s too good, too overwhelming.

“Mine,” he moans, and then he’s stuttering, sloppily thrusting until he stops. He allows the milky liquid to spill into your cunt.

He continues to slowly thrust in you, pushing his cum further and further back into you. He’s claiming you. He’s fucking claiming you.

Your head falls limp, forehead against the glass and you breathe hard.

Jimin pulls out of you, hissing as the cold air envelops his dick. He slaps your ass and tugs his cock back into his trousers.

You can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t think.

Mine, mine, mine.

Jimin’s words replay in your mind on an endless loop. His.

If you’re supposed to be his, then why can’t you seem to get a certain arrogant son-of-a-bitch’s face out of your head?

Reply 2 be added. Ty for reading.

@callmejimmeo @jasminperez18 @yoon2jk @jungkookminthairwhen @emogyus @nochuntae @hopesflwr @jmnrl @dracujin @bbyjmmns @virgojimi @jikukker @dollbabyg @ieonkrive @iholdkoo @namaslaylife @mini-mouser22 @greetieweetie @ohyeakjk @sugatalus @kooikk @vanteskku @duskvk @ggukssluvrr @sweetempathprunetree @monilyv @jkoomimi @jessieeq1986 @koozip @jjkuteu @naaktj @kooliv @yourslut16 @luvrkoo @jamlesstars @purrbangtann @scientisterror @darkuni63 @prudyhoo @nochubabystarcandy @wonieeee @st3ft0n3s @manjir0 @mdibby

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wazzappp · 1 month

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Alright I figure since Lisa gets her little redux / refresher so does Gabe!

Just a quick refresher so you don't have to scroll all the way back down that tag: Gabe was really REALLY sick and Robbie was getting desperate. The Connections (bioweapon company. A rival to Umbrella Corporation) reached out under the guise of a group wanting to test a new experimental medical treatment. Robbie hates the idea of being away from his brother but Gabe is DYING and they aren't even asking him to pay anything. So they ship Gabe out, do their testing with exposing him to the E series mold (they want to see if Eveline can manipulate the biologies of other people so they introduce him as a friend who needs help. Eveline is so excited to have a real friend to run around with, so she makes him able to run around. His mental disabilities remain but his physical disabilities are basically gone.) and he's better than ever! They get him back on the ship (new facility for more testing. They aren't really planning on returning him to Robbie i mean Robbies just some kid what the hell is he gonna do [<- lol. lmao]). When Eveline throws her tantrum and crashes the ship. Theres about a three month period (instead of three years. i really don't know what would happen to Robbie if he went that long without Gabe) until Robbie pieces together stuff from their video calls and news of a crashed liner in Louisiana and GOES. Thats where the games plot starts.

In the actual RE7 part of this AU Gabe is having. A BAD fucking time. Essentially being Mia's replacement he gets the great privilege of being forced to slam his brother into walls, stab him and cut his arm off (for the small small price of an axe to the neck some shots to the chest and a lifetime of trauma).

(That blood loss is hitting hard buddy you don't look so good)

During the opening I think Robbie is just thinking that if he can get them out of there then things will be ok and thats what keeps him going instead of just breaking completely.

Gabe is having a much better time in RE8. He's a bit wary of his abilities (basically Rose's in reverse. He creates little bulbs and if they have enough time to grow he uses them as an anchor to develop independent mold colonies that he can manipulate). Eventually (after just. a LITTLE freakout [which I kind of want to draw]). He eventually reasons out that this isn't so bad because 1. he is very much in control of this rather than being controlled and 2. It allows him to protect his brother. You cant tell me Gabe wouldn't feel SO BAD about what happened while he was being controlled. Every time he looks at the scars from Robbies spontaneous amputation via chainsaw he feels so absolutely terrible about it.

In RE8 Gabe's big thing is that he wants to KEEP ROBBIE SAFE and BE USEFUL. He absolutely hates seeing him get hurt, inevitable as it is. He doesen't trust Lisa until he sees Lady D go down (she was telling the truth about how to kill her own MOTHER that must mean something). But he doesen't really end up liking her until he sees how well she covers Robbies back. The verdict for future judgement is still out but for now the best path is to trust her.

#gabe reyes #ghost rider re7 au #robbie reyes #lisa (ghost rider)#RE!lisa #my art #sketch #Ive got a robbie refresher on the way soon too i just have to do some extra stuff real quick

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foxgloveinspace · 11 months

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Hi, it’s come to my attention I should probably share my Sleep Token Fan Fics on this website, so here is an official post I’ll update and stuff.

I want to say, publicly here, I am Not shipping the band members. I am, shipping their stage personas, and do not want to even think of them off stage in that way (because shipping real people makes me uncomfortable). I have separated the characters and the people who play them so much that I forget I’m even writing about Sleep Token. Ok? Even if they are just playing up their own personalities, they are still putting on a show, and putting on characters.

That being said:

All my Sleep Token fics are in a series (so far). All you need to know is that it’s set in an au where they are not a band, just a cult and a polycule, and Sleep is a loving but mean dom. And it’s all an excuse to write smut about sub!Vessel. Cause I love content where he gets to be a #mess, and I remembered I can make it myself lol.

You need to be logged into your ao3 account to be able to read my fic, I locked them all a few years ago when people where copying fics to other websites with pay walls, and I left them locked. I’m glad I did cause there’s a lot of scams happening right now anyway. Make sure to also read all the tags on the fics! And I usually put trigger warnings in the beginning notes!

Give In Again and Let Me Lay (My Arms Belong Around You)

Tags:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply, Vessel/Sleep, background I/II/III/IV (polyvessels), Vessel (Sleep Token), Sleep (Sleep Token), IV (Sleep Token), II (Sleep Token), III (Sleep Token), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, but theres a tiny tiny bit of plot. Dom/sub,Orgasm Delay/Denial, Multiple Orgasms, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mentioned Tentacles (past), Bondage, Cis Vessel (Sleep Token), (sorry about that one), Witch-y Vessel, Non-Human Character, Non-Human Genitalia, (for Sleep), Do NOT copy to another website

Sleep only came to his room for two reasons, the first and most common, was when Sleep wanted Vessel to try some new magic or ritual, ones that would leave him tired enough that he might pass out immediately after. Those were usually his least favorite, the magic and energy draining from him left him feeling empty and hollow for weeks after, and the accomplishment of getting it right eventually was bittersweet, and not fulfilling. He felt useless as Sleep’s weapon in those moments, but he would do what was asked of him.

But the excitement in the way that Sleep had tugged at their link made Vessel shudder, and not in complete apprehension.

Vessel shuts himself in his room, working on a project. He doesn't realize how long it's been since he's left his room to do more than eat, and accidentally worries the others to the point that they get their god involved.

I am the Shadow, You’re the Passenger

Tags:

No Archive Warnings Apply, Vessel/II/III/IV, Vessel/iii, Vessel (Sleep Token), III (Sleep Token), II (Sleep Token), IV (Sleep Token), Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Porn with Feelings, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, (but so little it's blink and you'll miss it), Not a Band AU, Technically This Is A, Cult AU, Domestic Fluff, Trans II (Sleep Token), Trans III (Sleep Token), light body horror, Do NOT copy to another website

Vessel had felt III’s eyes on him since the beginning of The Punishment, as he had started referring to it in his mind. He had felt all of his other’s eyes on him since the beginning of the Punishment. It had only been a week or so, but it had been obvious with III, as if he hadn’t even been trying to hide it. And knowing III he wasn’t, Vessel would turn and catch his eye, as if III was waiting to catch him out. Vessel still flinched back every time, tried to stop it from happening and only made it worse.

It wasn’t like he was shy about it, as if he was completely insecure about what he had done for his god, it was just that he was unused to being so open, even to the other vessels. And a week without the mask wasn’t going to change that, he doubted even the month would.

Vessel can't sleep, III helps. In the process, III finds out Vessel thinks none of his others like his eyes.

Something You Say or Something You Do (A Taste of the Divine)

Tags:

Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Free Use Vessel, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Penis In Vagina Sex, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Magic, Cult AU, No band AU, Vessel has a magic vagina in this one (just... read it I guess), Trans II, Trans III, Cis IV, Cis Vessel, yes I know., Dom/sub, Dom II, Dom IV, Switch III, Sub Vessel, Dom Sleep, (but Sleep is not here for this one), Cunnilingus, Long Shot, Vibrators, light body horror

He blinked at the ceiling as Sleep chuckled in his mind, and then Sleep spoke,

“Good morning, my vessels.”

Vessel felt the stirrings from the other bonds, the others greeting their god, and he pushed back on Sleep, a good morning of his own, without words.

“I will not be able to be there today for worship as discussed, I will be around within the next 86 hours,” He felt amusement from the others and himself at the use of specific hours from their god, used to it by now but still so endearing, “but because of this I decided that One shall be yours for the day.”

Or, Vessel wakes up on a morning of worship, only to find out their god has made some changes to him in the night. Oh, and Sleep cannot come that day, so he's giving the Others a treat. Vessel.

Take a Bite (of Me)

Tags:

No Archive Warnings Apply, Sleep/Vessel (Sleep Token), Background Polyvessels, Background II/III/IV/Sleep/Vessel, Sleep (Sleep Token), Vessel (Sleep Token), Biting, Oral, Light Dom/sub, PWP, Blow Jobs, Non-Human Genitalia, so much cum (idk how else to tag this and nothing is coming up oof), Soft Sleep (Sleep Token), Soft Vessel (Sleep Token), Still a little fucky wucky tho? At least to me, Do NOT Copy To Another Webiste

He was home alone, the lights were low, so there was only the lamp behind him where he was sitting on the couch, casting a warm glow over him and his book.

He was home alone, until he felt the crackle in the air, the shift in the pressure, the feeling of his god materializing in the portal that was, for all purposes an empty room they called his, the door of which when opened by Sleep would be the gateway to his world, the world of gods. Vessel only felt the change when he was in the living room or kitchen in a clear open space with the door, but he was glad for it this time, marking his page by dog earring it, and tossing it on the coffee table, as he felt Sleep come up to the back of the couch and loom over him, casting shadow in the golden glow.

Or; Sleep is in a softer mood, and decides to indulge in Vessel's love of his mouth, covering him in hickies.

All Your Darkest Impulses

Tags:

No Archive Warnings Apply, IV/Sleep (Sleep Token), IV/Sleep/Vessel (Sleep Token), Background Polyvessels, Vessel (Sleep Token), IV (Sleep Token), Sleep (Sleep Token), PWP, Dom/sub, Bottom IV, Sub IV, Top Sleep, Dom Sleep, Mildly Dubious Consent, Voyeurism, Overstimulation, Non-Human Genitalia, (for Sleep), Vessel POV, Coming In Pants, (For Vessel UwU), Punishment, worship kink, (thats not a tag??), Do NOT copy to another website

Sleep sighed, and stretched his arms wide, in his humanoid form again, and Vessel was starting to associate the form with worship with his god. He turned and leaned back on the counter, watching as Sleep walked into the room, and Sleep’s eyes caught his, but they didn’t hold his attention long, his eyes wondering almost lazily to IV, who was still sitting at the table though his back was ramrod straight, and his hands were in his lap. Vessel could see the way they were clenching and unclenching.

Sleep’s eyes didn’t leave IV, and then there was a soft glow that seemed to be coming from behind them, and IV’s head tilted down. Sleep nodded once to himself, and stepped forward to him, holding out his hand to IV, and hesitantly IV placed his hand in Sleeps. He was tugged up to his feet, and then they were starting to walk away.

Sleep decides it's time to punish IV for the stunt he pulled when Sleep couldn't be there to watch Vessel between II and III. Vessel gets to watch.

Let Me Wrap the Chain

Tags:

No Archive Warnings Apply, Sleep/Vessel (Sleep Token), II/III/IV/Sleep/Vessel (Sleep Token), II/III/IV/Vessel (Sleep Token), Vessel (Sleep Token), Sleep (Sleep Token), II (Sleep Token), III (Sleep Token), IV (Sleep Token), PWP, Tentacles, Tentacle Sex, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non-Human Genitalia, technically, Non-Human Character, Tentacle Monster Sleep, Overstimulation, Do NOT copy to another website

Sleep was floating in the middle of their living room when they walked in the door, his from his second favorite, a mass of wriggling tentacles that had no business being inside such a small apartment, but it was, and it had been before, had been in his room before as impossible as it felt, with his little glances to Sleep now; blocking the lights and casting long shadows over the walls.

It's tentacle smut guys, idk what else to say lol.

Important Authors Note in the notes of this fic.

#very much so #sleep token #sleep token fic #my fanfic writing #is this technically #worship #?? still not sure what counts tbh #it’s all smut babes

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emilyan4lb34ds · 2 years

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Rainy days // Edward Nashton x reader fluff

A/N: This is mostly gender neutral except for that the word princess is used like once

C/W: Yelling. Thats it really lmk if theres anything else i should tag

Summary: Eddie is acting UP bruh give your partner some attention idiot

Word count: 1.2K - Requested by: @littlejupcakie8

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The rain formed small droplets along the window, hitting it with a soft thrum. You’ve always loved the rain, the foggy atmosphere and the soft breeze that came with it filled you with a childish joy. When you were little you would sit outside, letting yourself get absorbed in the droplets of water. More often than not doing so would make you sick, but you never minded.

The beauty of this sight is something you now typically like to share with your boyfriend. Your boyfriend. Eddie. Where was he?

You stood up from besides the windowsill and wandered through the apartment, only to find him hunched over his desk. The lights were low and his computer was open. You figured he was doing something important. It was known to you what he did as the Riddler. It never bothered you much, you had the same beliefs as he did and you knew what he did was out of good heart. Occasionally you would even help him with his ventures. To say he loved when you went along with him was an understatement. He loved spending time with you and he loved making the city a better place, it was the perfect scenario.

“Ed?” You knocked at the frame of the door.

“I’m busy sweetheart.” He replied, not even giving you the courtesy to look away from his computer. You could already tell he was stressed. Usually he comes running like a dog when you call his name. He would drop almost anything for you.

“It’s raining.” You walk inside the room and sit yourself next to him. You wanted his attention, so you were gonna get it.

“I bet it’s real pretty but I said I’m busy.” He gave a quick, yet patronizing smile. Still yet to look up at you.

“Can’t you take a break for a second?”

He remains silent, typing away at the keyboard. At this point you didn’t know what to say. You weren’t used to him almost blatantly ignoring you. Even if he was busy. Needless to say you were a little upset, hurt even. You would never demand your boyfriend attention, but you also never really had to. He’s always been insanely obsessed with you, attaching himself to you at your hip basically.

“Edddwwaarrdd.” You lean into him as you drag out his name, sure this would get even a glance.

It didn’t.

“Eddie.” You go farther this time, poking his arm. “Ed.” You poke him again.

Still he doesn’t acknowledge you. You lean back and pout. What could possibly be so important that he starts acting like this. You were in utter disbelief and didn’t even know how to handle this. Do you just go back into the living room and wait for him? Do you stay here and sit in silence with him? Your need for his attention is even higher than when you first came in here. You wanted him to give at least some explanation for his sudden behavior.

Then it hit you like a brick. Does he not love you anymore? It didn’t make sense, but I mean, doesn’t it? From the very moment he met you he was in love with you. No. Even before he met you he was in love with you. Completely and madly obsessed with you. There was a tracker in the soles of all your shoes to prove it. So, it would be within reason that he’s tired himself out from you right? That he’s already poured out all the love he could possibly give.

Fuck. If he doesn’t love you anymore what would he do with you? You know he’s the Riddler. Would he kill you for knowing? Would he kill you just because? Part of you hopes he does. You don’t know what you’d do without him. It’s not that you technically needed him. You could be perfectly stable on your own. You had money, a job, friends (kind of). But what would you do after him. You couldn’t ever possibly date someone else. It was a fact that no one would ever love you how he does. No one would ever amount to him as a boyfriend.

The tears started to well up in your eyes. You fought them off as best you could but it started to become overwhelming. Now you wanted to be close to him. You wanted to hold him, hug him from behind while he worked. You wanted to embrace him, to feel his skin against your own. Doing so would almost immediately make you feel better. Just to have both of your presence’s intertwined in this dreadful silence. You were nervous, but you make the decision to ask. “Ed?” You whisper with a shaky voice.

“Jesus FUCKING Christ. How many FUCKING times do I have to tell you I’m busy.” He yelled. The sudden rise in his voice caught you off guard. Edward has never raised his voice like this to you. “Don’t you have EYES? YOU CAN SEE I’M WORKING.” His fists slammed against the desk, shaking everything on it.

Finally, he turned to look at you, only to find you cowering away from him with tears streaming down your face. In that moment he realized what he’d done. He released the tension in his fists and dropped his shoulders. His mouth dropped open a slight bit with the corners of his lips tugging downwards.

“No I didn’t-” For a second he started to reach over to you, but he immediately stopped himself. Neither of you knew what to do. Was this your fault? God you should’ve just stayed and watched the rain. “Y/N”

“I just wanted to ask to sit in your lap.” You couldn’t bring yourself to raise your voice to anything more than a hush.

He sighed. “C’mere.” He took your hand into his and led you over to him. Hesitantly, you fell into his lap. “I’m sorry princess.” A long sigh dragged from his mouth. “I’m so sorry.” His head leaned into your chest, he was shaking. He seemed to be just as upset at his outburst as you are.

You start to feel a small wetness against your collarbone, he was crying. You placed your hand on the back of his head, running your fingers through his unkempt blond hair. His hands clung to the back of your shirt as he sobbed into you. Of course you felt bad for him, not that you should, he was the one who yelled at you. But you didn’t expect him to breakdown about it. To some this would come off as manipulative, but to you this was just your Eddie. You knew his reaction was genuine. You knew by the way his fingers dug into your back, holding you as closely as possible.

You removed your hand from his head and placed it on his jaw, moving his face to look at yours. “Please don’t do that again.”

He rapidly shook his head. “I swear I won’t I won’t ever let that happen again.” He pleads. His hands go from your back to your thighs, rubbing them in a sweet way. He wasn’t trying to make any sexual advances, he just wanted to feel you. “I love you” He brought his lips to yours. “So much.” Softly, he connected them.

“Ed?”

“Hm?”

“Do you really?”

He quickly pulls his face away from you. “I do I promise you I do.” His green eyes pierce into you. “I will ALWAYS love you. You know I’m crazy about you.”

“Can we go watch the rain now?”

#danonation #paul dano #riddler fanfic #riddler 2022 #the riddler #edward nashton #edward nashton x reader #riddler fluff #edward nashton fluff

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definitelynotshouting · 1 year

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Hey friend, I am absolutely rotating the HECK out of Hunger AU rn. I just binged all of the tagged posts and I'm going FERAL! Watchers being like parasitic wasps? Listeners being like fungi? Absolutely based takes.

I'm very much a fan of the emotional realism going on and I'm so terrified of Angry!Mumbo. Like. Bro doesn't get all that angry that often those folks are the scariest properly pissed.

And I relate far too much to the Search Party tbh. Something about the themes of mental and physical illness, wanting to help but not knowing how, the one you want to help not wanting help at this point, the resentment that causes on both sides of that stalemate... yeah I've been there.

Also, I am insanely curious about the ecological niche that Watchers and Listeners fulfill. Like. There has to be a reason they are the way they are. I'm insanely curious about what the environment they evolved in looked like, and even more curious as to what they provide back to the universe in return.

Like. Irl most wasps are predatory insects, controlling the population of pests and invasive species, but the tidbits you've given us about how they feed on emotions and the groups they feed on put me more in mind of, like, herding dogs. Yknow? Does that make sense? Gathering players together and moving them away from half abandoned worlds to let them dissolve back into the greater code. Maybe interviening in virus-infected worlds or virus-vulrable worlds, encouraging those players to move or perish.

And Listeners, well, fungi occupy so many diverse niches they could do just about anything, really. It's very fun to think about and I am rotating them vigorously, thank you for feeding us so well <3

(May I be 🐸 anon?)

This is such a sweet ask i am so 🥺🥺🥺🥺 abt it, im really pleased that you're enjoying the emotional realism ive committed to for this fic, because thats just such an important aspect for me-- my goal here is to depict a deeply emotional, moving, and messy situation about illness and recovery where no one's feelings are punished or demonized by the narrative. Its just so, so important to me that the Search Party (and later on, the other hermits) get their emotions properly respected and explored. Its not just about Grian, even if he is the ultimate focus-- everyone else deserves varied, emotional responses to an ugly and terrifying situation where theres hurt on all sides. This is the kind of realism i love putting in all of my writing, and the kind of justice i want to do for all characters in stories like these!!

Its a little funny how this au originally started with me brainrotting absently about Watcher biology because i wanted to explore the idea of Grian pretending to be an avian and finding certain aspects of it deeply uncomfortable. And then it just. Snowballed into this!! And now i am chewing on worldbuilding for breakfast DKXNSJDJ im really glad you enjoy the Watchers and Listeners lore!!! I need to make a proper post on Devs (or dev crystals, as theyre actually called), as well as general code structure, bc they are both so fucking cool as well

I absolutely love your herding dog analogy, and its giving me some great ideas because for the longest time i couldnt quite figure out what exactly a Watcher's ecological niche was beyond predator to Players and prey for something else that's extinct. But now im really looking at the connection between Watchers feeding habits and Players' biological need for play (or dreams, if you want to get into the minecraft end poem of it all), and theres something there that i really wanna take some time to tease out before i give a concrete answer. I need to update my hunger au masterlist LOL i am saur behind 😭

Anyway this was such a lovely ask to sink my teeth into!!!! Thank you so much for sending it, and ofc you can be frog anon!!! This was a really stimulating conversation for me so thank you again for getting my brain whirring :D i hope to see you in the inbox again!!

#shouting speaks #asks #hunger au #OUGHHH THIS WAS SO FUN TO ANSWER..... ME WHEN THE IN-DEPTH QUESTIONS HIT #long post #compliments #txt

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block-swing-perry · 1 year

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@origamiyoda

at first i meant my ghost!wolfwood as an expansion of the mini comics canon (where nick goes around possessing people after his death but is still his goofy self ->a.i. possessing milly to help the insurance girls out only to also try to use spirits and a map to find where vash is)

BUT reading over your tags and realizing i used ambiguous wording in my post i think you might have interpreted as nick not surviving the eye of michael experimentation and like- ohhhhh my god i have to expand on that now. im adding a read more for length

first of all, he doesnt die right off the bat. wolfwood is the best candidate for the experimentation the eye of michael has had, but that doesnt mean theres other dangerous factors that would be his cause of death. im still thinking over what would do him in but off the top of the head we havae them upping the dose several times over thinking he can take it, a stray bullet during training, or perhaps when he drank several vials all at once when he was trying to escape.

that being said, his body has been messed with and this is reflected in his ghost. Hes always changing and he has no control over it. he is a sassy person at heart that didnt seem to let loose at the orphanage in terms of body language and facial expressions (going off stampede lore here) and so one of his forms is this preteen the experimentation at the eye of michael just skipped over thats more like adult tristamp wolfwood. Unfortunately, because also a ghost story has gotten be sad, wolfwood's default form is this huge, silent lumbering mass of darkness. This is the punisher.

wolfwood watches over livio for a bit but that gets distressing quick, because all he can provide for livio is what hed been trained for. he was a little kid, a young preteen and didnt get far enough to know how to pull livio out of this situation even when livio can seem to get a glimpse. he kinda haunts livio's dreams before wolfwood gets pulled around by different eye of michael personal until he becomes this wandering spirit.

he helps little kids, especially if theyre orphanages, and the punisher goes after adults hurting kids. he attaches to milly's family since theres a lot of kids for a bit and follows milly until the insurance girls have to go after vash

#trigun #ghost!wolfwood

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candybowbeansies · 1 year

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Let Them Go

warnings/notes: I'm in the mood for time skipping, heartbreak, regret, reunions, kinda slow burn('kinda' because theres a big time skip in this fic), angst with a bittersweet ending and a pinch of salt. Mentions of depression, using alcohol as a coping mechanism, sleepless nights, skipping meals, and workaholic tendencies. This is written in his POV, taking place some years after Enji ends it with you. Like it was mentioned in the first part, you decide to keep the bb(s, actually, they're identical twins ssob 😭). <3 I had to scrap and rewrite the entire thing several times, and I'm finally happy with this one! :3 My man is an absolute trainwreck--😭😭😭

I lied, I'm sorry-- inspo for Enji finally popped up and I wasn't about to let it slide through my fingers!

~Masterlist~

Tags: @annoyinglyloudcomputer

staring at the ceiling in the dark, same old empty feeling in his heart... </3

It's been months since the separation. Since he found out you were pregnant. Even now, he'd check his phone religiously for something-anything, from you.

But nothing ever came.

He prayed you'd give him one chance, and he'd try his damnedest, hell in high water, to become nothing but the best for you. No more fucking shit up.

But the rainy season came and went, in the blink of an eye. The nights became impossibly long, and soon enough, he'd taken to alcohol. With it, he'd finally get some damn sleep, without you invading his dreams. He'd wake up with a killer migraine, but he'd still trudge through work.

Work.

He'd work, work, work. Skipping meals, he'd work himself to the bone. He'd kept himself busy. He wondered how you were doing. He wondered if you thought of him like he thought of you. He had a special tone for you, so he'd know when you'd message him or call him. Because he foolishly hoped and prayed you'd contact him again.

Fall, winter...before he knew it, the rainy season came and went again. And again. And again.

As the years passed, the hole remains; time only numbing the pain. It wasn't until one day, when he least expected it, he saw you with two little ones a short distance away. He was roped into investigating a minor incident at a mall.

You were admonishing them. One was pouting, near tears, while their sibling was wailing in upset. His eyesight may not be as good as it used to, but those turquoise hues were downright unmistakable.

So you had twins?

A bittersweet feeling blooms in his chest. They must be quite the handful.

"Endeavor, sir?" another pro hero calls him out of his reverie. He doesn't even notice the uncharacteristic soft smile on his face. "Get on with it." he says, quick to continue with his work, stomping down the desire to walk up to you. He's the one that let you go.

As much as it hurt, he had no right. He had no idea just how much he'd loved you...until he foolishly chased you away. If you didn't so much as text him throughout these years, you didn't want anything to do with him, he'd convinced himself.

So he'd returned to the task at hand, finishing up the last of it, dread pooling in his stomach from merely being near you. He felt like he couldn't get away quick enough.

And really, he couldn't.

"Enji?"

When he heard your voice, a chill settled into his very bones. He turned to you-it's only been a few years, but you're more beautiful then ever.

The twins weren't crying anymore; instead they opted to stare up at him in awe. "I'm sorry." the words pass your lips, your apology irritating him. "No." he cuts you off before you can speak again, and you shrink back. He sighs.

He couldn’t do at least one fucking thing right, could he…?

He should start trying to right here.

"I'm..." he rumbles. Like a stubborn mule, he didn't know how much he needed you, all the way up until he let you go. "...the one who should be sorry." he says, the words bitter on his tongue, because they couldn't be truer.

The wobbly smile on your lips, the tears in your eyes.

"Can we talk?" you ask.

He knew you missed him.

"...yeah." he replies.

He missed you, too. This time...he won't fuck up.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha #bnha #todoroki enji x reader #enji todoroki x reader #endeavor x reader #songfic #Spotify

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j7pht · 1 year

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nvm actually i kind of want to stick around in this tag for just a little while longer now that ive looked around. im going to use the fact i dont use A LOT A LOT of words when im talking to my advantage to talk about some stuff from my perspective in case the tag is read

iz's vn does not use their trauma. i questioned iz when the zine first came out about it and what they said was that the vn was about *them* sexually harassing people on a schoolbus as a teen. it wasnt related to rina's trauma, rina's zine even says that iz did this in case there's disbelief here. the vn itself also as i understand, because i havent looked at it (and dont plan to for a few months, until im 18) is telling a story about abuse that occurred to one of glip's characters. the vn is overwhelmingly more like iz hurting glip, if anything. i voiced that i disliked the premise of the vn from what i was hearing, not because it was about sexual assault feelings-- i think its important art is made about those things-- i just wish it was handled with more tact with regards to rina, because there were similar stories shared between iz and rina in private.

no the twitter banner for glip is not nsfw. i asked. its intimate art, but theres nothing explicit happening, theres no sex. i was told it *was* posted in the nsfw channels but it was there because it could be interpreted that way and glip wanted to be able to talk about their intimate relationship if they wanted, but theres nothing sexual occurring.

i wish that glip making enormous documents of context evidence and perspective wasnt brushed off as "gish galloping". how i personally perceive this is that no one really wants to read it so they just tack on a word because they dont feel its worth reading. from my perspective the reason glip types so much to address their side of things is because the context of what they say gets stripped very frequently and theres a lot of backstory to a lot of incidents. i dont think its fair to go "um why is this so fucking long??????????" when if it was shorter itd be written off faster and probably easier. im personally more comfortable with typing less words, i personally cant see myself making a 50 page document, but its reasonable to me that glip would prefer to do that given kiwifarms stuff and quotes from them being pulled out of context and thrown around as evidence. please just read it or dont.

the floracasts were/will probably continue to be as long as they were because we were having fun talking. there was no script or anything like that, it was just a recorded vc. on the topic of this though i would like to point out; why the fuck is it an issue for me to discuss being uncomfortable with seeing nsfw, or talk about/hear about sexual pain i relate to? i could have misread intention but holy shit. am i not allowed to discuss anything on account of being a minor???? i was not exposed to anything. i was just talking. i didnt like insomniac's playful presentation of cropped porn and i talk briefly about csa and cocsca, later on and probably in a vid that hasnt been uploaded yet.

im currently feeling open to discussion about these things. im willing to ask questions back and forth, i dont feel fear in asking mods or glip about things. despite being very new to the fv servers, i understand some people dont want to speak to people within it privately, that makes sense to me if theres a genuine fear about it being a cult. if you feel afraid then i think its probably a better idea to speak out in the open, genuinely.

#floraverse #consider this like an open forum post to engage with???

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princesstokyomoon · 11 months

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🥺 i am make a new post cus i dont wann make the other one too long but, omg ty for the tag @mellyoraa i am honoured <3

nickname: i think the main nickname i get online is "ari", cus theres Generally a toss up between if people prefer to call me that or "princess" and thats a full name not a nickname lol. i Occasonally get "princess tokyo" tho, thats deffo a nickname. i dont tend to share my birthname with folx, so i cant really share the variety of nicknames ive had based on That, but i DO also have "fizz"/"fizzy pop" from my mum, cus of random baby talk from my sister when we were smol.

sign:

i dont tell people when my bday is, (not even my gf knows) and i Refuse to give Clues, sorry yall

height: around 5'4/5'5

last thing i googled: it was a local food place that me and my mum discovered existed the other week (but that had closed down during covid) that delivers roast dinners to your home. their website said they reopened today (or Technically yesterday by the time i post this lol), so i wanted to see what was up.

amount of sleep: hee hoo peanut, Varies, but i need a Minimum of 10 hours to feel Ok, so i Try to keep that as my average. somedays i get less, somedays i get a LOT more.

dream job: a performer. i love performing so damn much it hurts. its a part of my dna practically. but im shite at auditions, and i hate the industry, so even if i WASNT disabled in a way that makes that dream exceptionally hard for me, then its a dream thatll Probably forever go unfulfilled, and thats ok

wearing: harley quinn tshirt i bleached, and boxers uwu

media that summarises me: OOOO THIS IS A FUN QUESTION I HAVE TO THINK ABOUT THIS..... (sorry boys thisll probably get Long, this is kinda what i look for a Lot in media)

The "Life is Strange" games - particularly the first one - feel particularly relevant

Little Talks - Of Monsters and Men

Wired Wrong, Hold Me, Lyin' Awake - Steam Powered Giraffe

oooo Actually i think "Infinity Train" is a good show for me too

What's Wrong With Me? - Julia Stone

i would be an Idiot to not mention "It's Such a Beautiful Day", that film is an Intrisic part of my psyche BECAUSE of how much it resonates with me

Everybody Hurts - R.E.M.

I'm not dead - Boyinaband

Unbreakable - Gilmore Girls

it also feels ridiculous to not include "A Series of Unfortunate Events" (ill take both the books and the netflix, but the movie can go FUCK ITSELF), that series has been a key point in my brain for as long as I can remember.

Superman, I Wish I Was A Punk Rocker (and the New Lyrics version too) - Sandi Thom

the one who gave up, you wanted to look for help, i wanted to sit and wait to be rescued, action scene, when we met, hands, - flatsound (honestly Everything flatsound is a Vibe tho)

I Am My Own Disease - 4th Point

Am I?, F.R.E.A.K.S. - Victor and The Bully

Take Me Away - Avril Lavigne

SHIT, That Funny Feeling - Bo Burnham (and honestly the Whole of "Inside")

OOO THAT REMINDS ME absoLUTELY "The Midnight Gospel" that shit hits SO right

I Need Sleep - Balduin & Offbeat (and Offbeats general vibes too)

....oHHH IVE BEEN WORKIN ON THIS ONE QUESTION FOR TWO AND A HALF HOURS IOK I THINK THATS ENOUGH YALL GET THE IDEA AT THIS POINT im so sorry i cant help it, i Love finding myself in media

(if your noticing themes of being unwell, sad, and full of Longing, no youre not shhhh)

favourite songs: i Refuse to take as long answering this as i did the previous question gjdfhg

my current FAV fav song is Hotel California - Eagles but ill also give honourary mentions to

En ång av rosor - Darin

That's Not How The Story Goes (S3 version) - Netflix Unfortunate Events

Touch of Life - VA†EM Oliver

Countdown - Epithet Erased

instruments: i am currently TRYIN to learn guitar, and though i am WILDLY out of practice i am technically a trained singer, and really want to start practicing again at some point, cus i REALLY miss the huge range i used to have t-t

aesthetic: i.... am honestly not sure how to answer this? i vibe with so many aesthetics, and i dont think id Ever wanna tie myself down to One. as a teenager, i was sorta "all in" on steampunk, but even then i had interest in others. and now my brain is kinda a Clusterfuck lol

favourite author: i think i HAVE to go with either Lemony Snicket, or Shakespeare

random fun fact: i love dice, i own so so many dice at this point, i have Literally zero use of them, theyre just Pretty and i Want Them, i have spent a Stupid amount of money on dice, and i Physically have to restrain myself from lookin at them so so much because i would have No money, Only Dice, if i kept lookin

some favourite mutuals to tag: no pressure to play at all, but @nsfwitchy, @rouge-the-bat, @megalo-station, @aprilbrowines

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sillyunicorn · 2 years

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Fanfic writer challenge (aftg edition)

1. list & explain the three lines/moments from canon that are most fundamental to how you write your fave character

2. challenge 3 more fic writers to do the same!

Tks for the idea and tag @mostlymaudlin !

I meant to sleep but couldn't stop thinking about this so here we go. ANDREW MINYARD:

1. Theres a lot under the surface (and under this break)

"How a man who viewed the world with such studied disconnect could kiss like this, Neil didn't know, but he wasn't going to complain." (TKM)

One day I'll share my essay on surface ppl versus depth ppl but just know Andrew is a depth person.

2. He knows Neil.

Neil asking Andrew how he can stand him after everything:

Neil reached for him, unwilling to let him leave without a real answer.

"No," Andrew said, and Neil's hand froze a breath from Andrew's arm. (TKM)

Maybe also indicative of his understanding of other ppl in general. Analyzes them, never forgets anything. Pretty much always knows what to expect. Neil is the only one who ever really manages to surprise him. But in this moment he knows what Neil will do, and he uses that to demonstrate his point.

Not the most important thing in this scene, which shows how Neil knows and respects Andrew's boundaries. Among other things. But still.

3. He's a self sacrificing asshole who sees things in black and white. Especially his own commitments and what it means to protect someone. Neil explaining to Aaron why Andrew killed Tilda:

"Why he—what? That isn't the same. He didn't do that for me."

"He told me he did," Neil said. "I didn't even have to ask him. He warned her to stop hitting you and she wouldn't. He had no choice but to get rid of her. ...

"Except I lied," Neil said, getting to his feet. "Unlike you, he's not angry that you interfered. I just said that because I needed you to understand." (TRK)

Andrew doesn't get angry, he gets even lol.

4. Bonus. He doesnt get angry, except when he does.... at how much he cares about Neil.

hotel scene:

"I'm sorry," Nathaniel said.

...

"Say it again and I will kill you." (TKM)

Like, is he bluffing? Is he serious? I don't think he'd hurt Neil (death threats are old hat at this pt) but I think it does make him absolutely livid that Neil would put himself in harm's way. Angry at Neil for being a martyr and making him worry, but angry at himself for worrying in the first place. Neil made him renege on his deal, which Andrew never does, but even after that Andrew still cares about him. And then Neil goes and gets himself kidnapped. How! Dare! He!!!!! And how dare Andrew for still wanting to protect this stupid little rabbit. Love him

#this was more #what i see as andrews defining charactwristics #more than how i write hin #bc i have only written vandrew #APPARENTLY #but still fun to think about #sigh #andrew minyard #aftg #tag game #doh forgot to tag ppl #its too late am asleep #gnite

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shuckinbeanz · 1 year

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Let Them Go

MINORS 👏 DNI! 👏 AGE 👏 IN 👏 BIO 👏 OR 👏 DNI! 👏 Head on over to @candybowbeansies please for my SFW pieces, or be blocked if you interact here! 😇

~Masterlist~

Tags: @dynamightsdaydream , @izukusfreckle

staring at the ceiling in the dark, same old empty feeling in his heart... </3

It's been months since the separation. Since he found out you were pregnant. Even now, he'd check his phone religiously for something-anything, from you.

But nothing ever came.

He prayed you'd give him one chance, and he'd try his damnedest, hell in high water, to become nothing but the best for you. No more fucking shit up.

Work.

Fall, winter...before he knew it, the rainy season came and went again. And again. And again.

You were admonishing them. One was pouting, near tears, while their sibling was wailing in upset. His eyesight may not be as good as it used to, but those turquoise hues were downright unmistakable.

So you had twins?

A bittersweet feeling blooms in his chest. They must be quite the handful.

So he'd returned to the task at hand, finishing up the last of it, dread pooling in his stomach from merely being near you. He felt like he couldn't get away quick enough.

And really, he couldn't.

"Enji?"

When he heard your voice, a chill settled into his very bones. He turned to you-it's only been a few years, but you're more beautiful then ever.

He couldn’t do at least one fucking thing right, could he…?

He should start trying to right here.

The wobbly smile on your lips, the tears in your eyes.

"Can we talk?" you ask.

He knew you missed him.

"...yeah." he replies.

He missed you, too. This time...he won't fuck up.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha #bnha #todoroki enji x reader #enji todoroki x reader #endeavor x reader #songfic #Spotify

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sweetie-sire · 2 years

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Ayo i wrote some hizzie garbage 🗑 im both sleep deprived and tired of life so whatevr have at it wolves.

Its not good so lol but this tag is dead af so idk

Also dodie is sad af

~i can finally see ~

"I dont understand how you always manage to choose her side josie" im enraged beyond what i thought i could ever possibly be and my naive idiot little sister doesnt manage to get it through her thick little skull. Mikaelson is gone.

"No lizzie YOU dont understand, shes just lost she needs us now more than ever! How can you not see that?!" Shes been at this for the past 20 minutes and quite frankly its getting old.

"Jo, all i see is our dearest dad finally finding out the prodigal daughter is just an evil coniving bitch" i see josie flinch at the dry humor but i no longer care.

~youre as fucked up as me~

Josie gets up and walks out of the room, before she exits she turns to me "I get that youre hurt lizzie but you need to remember why hope even resorted to this in the first place. She gave up her life and landons life just to make sure everyone else would be ok." I can see that bringing up landon hurts my sister there are tears in her eyes and im so tired of everyone bringing up deceased bird boy, since he will probably just find a way to come back anyway.

"Yeah well maybe we can go ask dad if we should forgive hope then!" I yell but shes already left and my snark is useless and i feel so frustrated i could tear my hair out.

~so how do we win?~

Josie has once again taken upon herself to go chasing after our long lost tribrid trying to find a way to help her or whatever. I know just the way to help hope.

Cleo sowande is my very own personal hero right now.

~brave face talk so lightly, hide the truth~

Im driving from dead end to dead end and all i can manage to think about is hopes stupid evil "im a Mikaelson fear me" face and scoff

The balls on this bitch.

I pull up on a trail i picked up and the feeling of this dive bar is more unsettling than the last. I walk in and instantly feel the need to relieve my stomach of its contents.

Theres body parts and blood everywhere. Some guys head chopped off by a pool table. Brutal i dont even know how nobody has been in here to clean up the mess. Oh a concealment spell nice to know she cares about some things i guess. She could have at least lit the place on fire.

~im sick of losing soulmates so where do we begin?~

"Why would i burn my own room down Lizzie"

"With my family history im not exactly immune to those issues. I would never say that stuff about you"

I scoff remembering that and for some reason the back of my throat feels tight.

Josie may be right she might need help, but i cant find it in me to see the same girl thats understanding and i have grown to begrudgingly tolerate to be the one leaving a trail of bodies up and down the coast.

She mauled my dad whats stopping her from doing the same to the rest of us.

And i might have grown to love her too but josie is too soft to do what needs to be done.

Someone has to stop her.

~time and hearts will wear us thin so which path will you take~

I dont know what the fuck possessed me to say that idiocy. Impending death? Minute insanity? I can see the little gears in her tiny evil head turning

Theres a spark of someone i used to know flicker through her eyes.

And i see it the moment the hurt flashes in her mind what she went through to get to this point. I see her intent

The resolve. To end me. What did i expect?

Some sick twisted voice in my head tells me to keep going and see if i can reach her.

I slowly try to approach her and my voice is cracking i dont even know what im saying anymore

I see it in her eyes whatever hope was left is gone

Ironic

Before she has a chance to snap and as soon as i feel her hands wrap around my neck i rush forward

I close my eyes and say fuck it.

God i must really be crazy.

Her lips are unmoving but still soft i must have caught her by surprise because im still alive so i press on and i can feel her reciprocrate for a second and theres relief in my heart that maybe this will all turn out ok. Due to an unconsensual kiss of all fucking things.

Its something i never really considered doing while i was on my way here but minute insanity must have won over my fried brain.

I sigh as i feel soft hands tighten around my neck and it all goes black

Thats going to be one awkward as fuck conversation when she realizes im not actually dead.

Whatever serves her right.

*insert dodie lyric cuz im cant be bothered to do it*

+ lizzie wakes up and is super cool about it while hope is a crying mess on the floor cuz she killed this bombshell and sassy lizzie is everything.

#hizzie #lizzie saltzman #hope mikaelson be like #legacies #rant #creative crying #i really hate posting fics on here cuz my gf follows me and thats fucking embarrassing but i need this fandom to stay alive.#i dont care if i have to do it myself one shitty fic at a time #fuck julie plec

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