#this image is so fucking cluttered. like my mind

[imminent-danger-came]

Hey guys what if we just slowed down, like. What if we took a breather for a second, couple minutes maybe. Guys what if we-

#MY HEAD IS SO FULL #honorary mentions of sonic prime totk good omens s2 and spider riders #this image is so fucking cluttered. like my mind #THERE ARE TOO MANY THINGS!!! #I knew it was over for me. Jesus christ #I am only capable of making memes at the moment sorry everyone #like I gotta take a nap and then go to hw to wind down I think #i need to find some sources for an essay #imp tag #kingdom hearts missing link you can't come out this summer I'll die. You need to wait for the fall I'm sorry

[javiscigarette]

In the Middle of the Night

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: In the middle of the night, Joel is wide awake and you're moaning in your sleep

Warnings: no use of y/n, established relationship, pwp, fingering, (consensual) somnophilia, Joel’s pov, him talking you through it ofc, filthy but so much fluff, Joel is just so in love ugh

w/c: 4.4k

a/n: not sure what came over me with this one but omg I had fun with it and I’m now obsessed with writing from his pov. As always, I'm so greatful for everyone who reads and interacts with this, plsss let me know if you like it and if I should write a part 2 hehehe

my masterlist

Joel has never been good at falling asleep at a reasonable time. But he doesn’t really mind staying up when you’re sleeping so peacefully next to him. 

He’s lying on his back on the left side of your bed, one arm bent and resting on the pillow above his head with the other one draped over your shoulders. You’re curled into his side, your cheek smushed against his chest, small, warm puffs of air diffusing across his bare skin with each deep and steady breath you take. 

He tried to fall asleep when you did a few hours ago, but the scenes from earlier that night played on a constant loop in his head keeping him wide awake. Visions of you across from him at the dinner table, head tilted back leaving your neck exposed for his viewing as you laughed at his stupid joke. The fresh memory of him pinning you against your front door as soon as the two of you stumbled inside, kissing you hard and tasting the wine on your tongue as you moaned into his mouth. He keeps coming back to the specific image of being buried deep inside of you, your heels digging into his back and his large palm pressed over your mouth in a feeble attempt to stop at least some of the noise from traveling through the thin walls to your neighbor’s apartment. But the dents and scrapes in the paint on the wall behind your headboard are clear evidence of those failed attempts. 

After spilling inside of you and sending you over the edge for a third time that night, he had barely managed to get you in the shower. Once there, your soft moans echoed in the steamy bathroom as he took his sweet time pulling one more orgasm from you with two fingers sliding languidly in and our of your sore and swollen pussy. 

“Need lotion” you had mumbled as he dried you off with a fluffy towel. He chuckled and intercepted your reach for the bottle of lotion, picking it up himself instead. He had to practically carry you out to the bed, where he smoothed his warm hands all over your body, rubbing the lavender lotion into nearly every inch of your skin. You were already snoring softly by the time he finished. 

And now he’s here, watching your curtains flow gently in the breeze from the open window as you sleep peacefully right next to him, the smell of lavender and the cool autumn air relaxing both his mind and body.  

You always kept your bedroom cool, especially when Joel was with you. Joel always radiates heat, but he was a human furnace in the bed next to you. And It wouldn’t be as bad if he didn’t insist on cuddling throughout the night, subconsciously reaching out in his sleep and pulling you in closer every time you started to stray away until you woke up sticky with sweat. Joel doesn’t care, though. He doesn’t mind the press of your tacky skin against his and in fact, he craves it when you’re not with him. 

The streetlight right outside your bedroom window filters in through the curtains that are rustling in the breeze, slivers of pale light briefly illuminating different areas of your room. He tries to commit it all to memory: the makeup and jewelry cluttered on your vanity, the same vanity that he bent you over two weeks ago and made you watch as he fucked you until your legs were jelly and you could barely stand, the tight dress that he practically tore off your body earlier that evening now bunched up in a small heap on the floor in the corner, the various knickknacks and trinkets on the small bookshelf in the corner of the room, the seemingly ever growing collection of candles on your dresser. 

He’s only been in here a handful of times. The two of you usually end up at his house where you can take advantage of being as loud as you want. But your apartment in the city had some practical advantages. Like tonight, where after a little too much red wine at dinner, neither of you were in any condition to drive back to his house. So, the only option was to walk the few blocks back to your apartment, both you giggling like idiots with his arm wrapped protectively around your waist and his jacket draped over your shoulders. 

He studies the pictures on your wall too. There’s the framed photos from the trips you’ve told him about, pictures from the mountains in Colorado where you nearly passed out from the reduced oxygen levels, and the picture of the Amalfi coast taken from the boat on which you unfortunately discovered for the first time just how prone you are to seasickness. His gaze lingers on the pictures of you with your friends and family, your infectious smile making you the center of attention in all of them.  

Then his mind starts to wander, maybe a bit too far, but he doesn’t exactly want to stop thinking about how everything would fit in his house. He thinks about your candles on top of his dresser, how he would move around the furniture in his room so that he could fit your vanity in a spot that catches the most natural lighting. He imagines your framed pictures hanging in his hallway or propped up on the shelves in his living room. A subtle smile spreads on his lips when he envisions your soft blankets spread over his bed, and his heart beats just a little faster at the thought of the two of you sharing a closet, your clothes mixing with his. He wonders if his room would smell like your lavender lotion too. 

He's pulled back to reality when you make a small, soft noise. He looks down at you, worried that he somehow woke you up. But your breathing is still steady and your face is peaceful and relaxed. He figures that you’re probably in the middle of a dream and he wonders what it’s about. A small, maybe selfish, part of him hopes that it’s about him. Then you start to shift, and he lifts his arm from your shoulders, giving you just enough room to roll over onto your other side until your back is pressed against his side instead. 

He fixes your eyes now on your side profile, the shadows and light from outside dancing across your face. He trails his gaze from your hairline to the slope of your nose to the perfect curve of your slightly parted lips. He tries to memorize all of that too, though most of it is already ingrained deep in his brain. 

He stares shamelessly for another minute or two until you make another small sound, another signal that you’re dreaming. Except this time he doesn’t have to wonder too much what it’s about, not with the way that you push your hips back against him with another small sound that sounds all too familiar following in quick succession. 

Joel’s entire body tenses as he looks at you, his cock already twitching underneath your linen sheets. He stays completely still, watching you and waiting to see if you’ll move again. After a few painstakingly long seconds later, you make another sound. And he’s not sure if it’s all in his head but it sounds almost like his name. 

Logically, he knows that he should probably just let you sleep. You get just as grumpy as he does if you don’t get your full 8 hours. But after a few more seconds, another sound slips out of you, a desperate garble of “Joel” much clearer this time but still thick with sleep. 

And that’s his greenlight. 

A soft smile tugs at his lips as he starts to scoot down the bed, movements slow and calculated as not to rouse you. He carefully moves his arm from where it’s draped over your shoulders and slides it under your neck instead before rolling over onto his side. He closes the centimeter gap between your bare bodies until your soft skin is pressed against his under the safety and warmth of your sheets and blanket. 

He snakes his other arm around your waist, pulling you even closer so that your ass is pressed firmly into the cradle of his pelvis. He buries his face in your hair that’s cascading down the side of your neck, inhaling the scent of your shampoo. He skates his fingers mindlessly over your stomach, his own skin heating up just at the sensation of your soft skin under his fingertips. He tries to resist the urge to roll his hips up against you. He wants to stay in this calm peacefulness for as long as possible and he’s fully aware that once he starts, there’s a very slim chance that he’ll be able to stop. 

But his efforts are thwarted when you push your hips back again, unconsciously grinding your ass against his half-hard cock with another sweet sound slipping from your lips. He sighs quietly against your neck but stays still, exerting the last ounce of his self-control. 

As if moving on their own accord, his fingertips slide further down until they’re ghosting over the crease of your thigh. He’s eternally grateful that you refused to put on any clothes before falling asleep, which, now in hindsight, was clear foreshadowing of what’s currently happening. 

He moves his whole hand between your thighs to cup your sex and dips two fingertips between your folds and mouths a silent “fuck” at the copious amount of slick that quickly coats them. Still in the grips of deep sleep, you shift your legs to give him better access. He smiles. Your body is always so receptive to his touch. 

With a soft groan, he gently prods at your dripping entrance, taking his time to feel how swollen you still are from when you were stretched so perfectly around him just a few hours ago. But you interrupt him with a soft whimper, your hips moving against him once again and he chuckles silently. Still so needy and impatient as ever, even in your sleep. 

But he can’t deny you, he never really can. He’s wrapped so tightly around your finger that he’d do anything you’d ask of him in a heartbeat without a single second thought. It’s almost worrisome, how easily he caves into you, how you wipe every rational thought clean out of his mind, how in just a matter of a few days  you so easily managed to knock down the walls around his heart that he spent decades building. But all those thoughts just fade into noise when he’s with you. Especially with you like this. 

So, he gathers a generous amount of your wetness on his fingers and drags them up to your clit. Your body immediately reacts with a jolt of your hips and a louder moan. Joel curses under his breath when you back your ass up against him even further, his length now fully hard pressing against your bare ass, precum starting to slowly seep from his tip and smear against your soft, supple skin. 

He trails his fingers back to your entrance. Forehead pressed against the nape of your neck With a long sigh, his breath warm and humid on the back of your neck, he slowly sinks one in finger.  His eyes slip closed and his eyebrows draw together as he slowly drags his finger in and out of your dripping hole. He nearly whimpers when he adds a second finger, your walls fluttering and slick leaking down his fingers to his knuckles. “Fuuuck, baby” Joel whispers his lips just barely brushing your skin as your walls clench around him.

He works you open on his two thick fingers – not that you really need it after taking his cock like that earlier. But he’s obsessed with the sleepy sighs and soft moans you’re making. And he’s barely aware of the fact that he’s now moving his hips, gently rolling them against your ass in a subconscious attempt to relieve the pressure in his groin. He pants against your neck, already feeling so delirious and drunk on you and your body like a horned up teenager. He’s never felt this way with anyone else, so affected by you. He can hardly control himself when he’s with you, it’s like he’s a raw, exposed wire and you’re the spark that sets him ablaze in an instant. 

He curls his fingertips and the way your hips immediately rock back lets him know he’s there. Your moans are more frequent and just a bit louder as he strokes your spot, a fresh wave of your wetness gushing around his fingers and dripping down to his palm. But he doesn’t want to wake you up yet, not when he has every intention of waking you up when he’s buried balls deep inside of you. 

So he exercises his last bit of self-control, sliding his fingers out and dragging them back up to your clit again, tracing a few more lazily circles before pulling his hand away completely. 

With his fingers and palm soaked in your slick, he tilts his hips back just enough to make enough room to wrap his hand around his cock. He hisses quietly through clenched teeth at the contact, and he can’t resist a few strokes, spreading your arousal up and down his length. After a few passes, he moves his hand from his cock to your top leg, cupping the back of your knee and pushing it up til it’s bent at a 90 degree angle. Now with unobstructed access, he fists himself again and lines himself up with your dripping entrance. 

He sinks in nice and slow, letting out a deep groan from the back of his throat. He drapes his arm around your middle, pulling you in close to him as he moves his hips with shallow thrusts and noses along your neck, pressing kisses along the underside of your jaw and sighing heavily once he’s nestled all the way inside you.  

The thought of staying still just like this, falling asleep to the feeling of your slippery walls squeezing him so tight like this crosses his mind for a brief moment. But you soon start to stir in his hold and the sound of your sudden, sharp inhale signals that you’re regaining consciousness. 

He presses his lips to the back of your neck while he patiently waits for you to come to your senses. It takes a couple seconds for you to regain control of your limbs, and when you do, you reflexively try to move from his grasp, but he tightens his arm around your middle and holds you in place. “Shh, baby” Joel whispers in your ear. “I’ve gotcha” 

You immediately surrender, relaxing in his hold with a quiet hum. His chest is pressed against your back, heat radiating off of him and putting you on the verge of sweating. But it feels so safe the broad expanse nearly completely encompasses you like he’s shielding you from the rest of the world. But you don’t have much time to focus on that, the feeling of the tip of his cock nudging at your cervix creating much more pressing needs. 

“Dreamin’ of me, weren’t you?” Joel asks, his voice a barely audible whisper. You answer with a sleepy whine as you move to grind your hips down, nudging his cock half an inch deeper. “Sound so sweet moanin’ in your sleep” he continues, his hand slides up from your stomach to your chest, cupping one breast and gently rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “moanin’ my name.” 

You whimper and wiggle your hips as he presses a kiss just behind your ear. “Joel” you mumble, pushing your hips back in an attempt to get him to move. “Yeah, sounded just like that” Joel grunts as he starts to slowly pull out, his warm breath fanning over the shell of your ear, undoubtedly sending tingles rushing down your spine. 

He keeps his arm under your neck, your head resting on his bicep while his forearm crosses your chest, his hand gripping your shoulder. He has you in a loose headlock, grunting softly near your ear as he fills you up again and groaning when he bottoms out once again. 

“Always so fuckin’ tight and wet no matter how many times I stretch you out, huh? Always so ready for me.” 

All you can manage is a pathetic whimper while you bring a hand up to hold onto his forearm across your chest. He keeps a slow pace, his breath hitching in your ear every time he bottoms out. You feel unbelievable wrapped around him like this, white-hot tingles shooting all the way up his spine at the sensation of his cockhead dragging along your warm, wet walls as you clamp down around him like a vice. 

He wants to savor it, wants to relax into this moment for as long as possible. But you’re needy,  he can feel it now with the way you're squeezing him and practically sucking him back in every time he pulls out. And his own heady desperation is starting to cloud his vision as he slowly fucks you, your tired body loose and pliant under his touch. He needs to make you come again, needs to feel you shake and squirm, needs you to make him come. 

With a soft groan, he allows himself to start moving faster. His lips easily find the junction of your neck and collarbone where he immediately starts nibbling and gently sucking at the thin skin, claiming what’s rightfully his and shivering when you tighten around him. 

He tries his best to keep a gentle pace, not wanting to jostle you around too much. Except your breathy whimpers are so sweet and your sleepy whines sound so angelic that he can hardly keep it together. 

He tightens his grip on your shoulder, the muscles in his arm flexing gently under your palm as he locks you in place and starts to really fuck you. He moves his hand from your beast, smoothing his calloused palm down your side to your ass then palms at your cheek, grabbing a few greedy handfuls before pushing it up to give himself more space to move. 

Goosebumps break out across his skin when you let out a long, drawn out moan and dig your nails into his forearm, leaving crescent-shaped dents in his skin. A not-so-small part of him hopes that you break the skin so he can admire the small purple and red marks in the morning. 

“Goddamnit,  baby” Joel pants as he snaps his hips, filling you to the brim. “You feel so fuckin’ good. So perfect like this.” Every few thrusts he pauses when he’s all the way inside and grinds against you, his eyes rolling back his skull when you push your hips back at the same time, multiplying the intended effect. . 

“S’this what you were dreamin’ of?” Joel rasps, his lips ghosting over your jaw. “Huh, baby? S’your little pussy so needy that you can’t help but dream about me fillin’ it up?” You answer in the form of a moan with your walls pulsating around him. He keeps his steady pace, the slick sounds of him sliding in and out of you floating around in your quiet bedroom.

“Attagirl” Joel sighs when your moans start to get louder. Your hips are starting to buck and swivel, and your chest heaves with every ragged breath you take. He places hot, open-mouthed kisses on every inch of skin he can access until he reaches the nape of your neck again. You whine his name, sleepy and desperate, and he shudders at the sound. 

 “Just keep takin’ it, baby, just like that. Doin’ such a good job.” he whispers. “My good girl…always takes everything I give her. Even in her fuckin’ sleep” 

Then suddenly your hand is on top of his where it’s resting on your ass. You grip his palm and move his hand to where it was a couple of minutes ago between your thighs, only letting go when he presses two fingers to your clit and starts tracing those lazy circles again. His cock twitches inside of you, the thought of you knowing exactly what you want and demanding it, even when you’re still half asleep, drives him crazy. 

With his eyes still closed and eyebrows drawn together, he sucks a sharp breath through clenched teeth and focuses on both the feeling of effortlessly gliding in and out of your sweet pussy combined with the feeling of your clit pulsing under his fingertips. 

He fucking loves it. There’s not a single scenario that he could possibly conjure up in his head where he would ever be tired of this. He takes pride in it too, knowing exactly how to reduce you to a squirming mess in less than five minutes, or how to take his time, slowly breaking you down until every thought in your brain is replaced with just JoelJoelJoel. He knows your body better than his own: the way you arch your back when he tweaks your nipples just right, how you melt when he kisses that one spot on your neck, the exact patterns he needs to trace on your clit to get you to come in nearly 30 seconds. 

That is all committed to memory. All of it’s burned to his brain and plastered underneath his eyelids. And just like clockwork, after a few seconds of his fingers pressed against your clit, your thighs start to shake around his hand. 

“Ohh there you go, sweetheart” Joel groans, both his fingers and his hips moving faster. “C’mon, baby” he urges, voice strained and tight in his throat as he tries to keep himself together. “Cum on my cock, need to f-fuck oh god need to feel it, baby. Know you’re close, angel just give it to me.” 

That’s all it takes to send you flying over the edge. He holds you impossibly tight against him as you tremble and shake, his pace not faltering even once. He’s on cloud fucking nine with you whimpering and moaning his name while your walls pulsate and choke his cock. His breath is hot and humid against your sweaty skin, panting as he tries to stave off his own release for as long as possible. 

“Fuckin christ, babygirl” he growls, as he fucks you through it, not giving you a single chance to catch your breath. “That’s it, such a good fuckin girl. Just like that. Keep squeezin’ me just like that, angel” 

Even with the way you're milking his cock, squeezing him for all that he’s worth, he thinks he could last for at least another minute or two. That is until you snake an arm up and reach blindly behind you, your hand immediately finding his hair, fingers locking around the tousled strains and pulling. He chokes out a gasp, the tingling sensation traveling from his scalp all the way down to the base of his spine. His hips stutter and he can only handle a couple more uneven thrusts before he pulls out. His cock twitches where it’s pressed against your lower back as he spills hot ropes of cum onto your skin with shameless, breathy whimpers. He keeps rocking his hips with small movements, grinding his cock into the wet mess on the small of your back, extending the euphoria until his limbs are jerking from the sensitivity. 

His forehead is pressed against your neck once again, his warm breath diffusing down your back as he pants a breathless “Jesus christ.”

You hum weakly next to him, melting in his arms as you sleep starts to creep back into your body once again. He keeps holding you tight against him as you both catch your breath. 

“Were you awake that whole time?” you ask quietly after a moment of silence. Joel chuckles and squeezes you even tighter in his arms. 

“Mhmm. Told you you were moanin’ in your sleep” 

Even with his eyes closed in the dark room, he can see the frown you’re sporting clear as day in his head. You try to turn over to look at him, but he keeps you in place. 

“You have work in the morning, why didn’t you say anything?” you ask. “Could’ve made things more comfortable for you, I know your old-man back doesn’t like my mattress.” 

Joel rolls his eyes and pinches your thigh, making you yelp and giggle.  

“Couldn’t be more comfortable than this even if I tried, sweetheart” he whispers. “Now go back to sleep.” 

“Can’t sleep with the human fireplace glued to me” you whisper back. “And I’d love if I didn’t have cum stains on my sheet in the morning” 

Joel rolls his eyes again but can’t suppress the stupid grin creeping up on his face. He reluctantly lets you go, sliding his arm out from under your neck and letting you roll over onto your stomach. He takes extra care to lift the blanket and pushes it down to your thighs, trying his hardest to not stain your precious sheets. You turn your head to face him, but your eyes are still closed, your face so sleepy where it’s squished against the pillow, your lips curved in a gentle, sated smile. His heart feels like it could burst right out of his chest. 

He leans over to place a sweet kiss to your hairline before carefully crawling out of the bed. He hisses at the cool air swirling around his hot skin as he pads to the bathroom. He comes back with a damp washcloth and cleans you up and then himself before crawling back into the bed. 

He pulls the blankets back up and makes sure you’re all tucked in before settling on his side, facing you. He doesn’t take you back in his arms, not yet. He’ll find you in his sleep. But he does hook one of his ankles around yours, the small amount of touch that you’ll always allow. Exhaustion is finally starting to settle into his bones as he studies your features like he’s going to be tested on them in his dreams. His eyelids finally feel heavy and he lets them close, his breathing quickly falling into a deep, steady pace. 

He’s nearly fully asleep when he hears the soft sound of you whispering again. 

“Oh and we’re gonna have to reenact the dream I was having when we wake up. Was really nice.”

Joel grunts, his cock already starting to stir once again.  Who needs sleep anyway? 

Thank you for reading :)) hope you enjoyed it!!

#Joel miller smut #Joel miller x f!reader #Joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #Joel miller #pedro pascal characters

[slothkittfunsies]

Deep Dive into the issues on Alastor.

CONTENT WARNING: Racism, Aphobia.

Now that I created a blog specifically for stuff like this, It's time for the dive.

Alastor is a character that resonates with me, because this guy is supposed to represent me and my people (aspec/aroace community) and I liked his pilot personality. (That went to shit)

This man got so many issues, that i have to take the pen myself and scribble what Vivzie has wrote. So, Let's start, shall we?

THE DESIGN

The first time I saw the Hazbin pilot, I got confused about what Alastor was supposed to be. I thought he was just a grey human wearing some kind of animal ears until the fandom said he is a deer.

A deer. Let that sink in.

(Images for comparsion)

As someone passionate about the arts, this upset me. Sure, I haven't been to art school, but even I know you need to put the backstory and features in mind when designing a character.

Character design is NOT throwing things at the wall and seeing which sticks. It needs actual critical thinking. If your audience is confused about your character's species, it's time to go back to the drawing table (unless you have a reason for making it mysterious.)

Second, the overabundance of red is awful in terms of color theory. This guy is in Hell, which is also red, causing an eyesore. I got a headache when trying to focus on him on a red background. And also, colors have meaning. People associate red with danger, so the fact he even managed to get victims to kill makes me puzzled.

Also, the fact he's supposed to be mixed/black makes this design even worse. Why is he grey instead of brown, perhaps? Vivzie has a pattern of making POCs grey-skinned, which is, again, awful.

I think Vivzie only made him a POC due to the voodoo issue. I mean, just remove the symbols and you are done. But nah the symbols are too "aesthetic" to remove. So gotta change his race.

She could have used another symbols, like THIS for example:

Since, you know, he's the "Radio Demon"?

THE BACKSTORY

Ok, this where I'm very confused.

Alastor is a radio host, and also a serial killer. He was born in the USA, got killed by a deer hunter by mistake, and lived in the 1920's.

This is what I gathered from being a superfan back then, and it sounds unorganised/cluttered. And the years he lived in make his design even worse. (Again! His clothing doesn't speak the 1920s!)

The fact he's from an old era, and yet speaks in modern slang is weird. He's supposed to hate anything modern, and yet he does it anyway? His saying "fuck" multiple times is so out of character for him. I guess the "If made by Vivziepop" memes have some truth.

Putting the fact he's mixed, makes the backstory more confusing. How did he manage to be a popular radio host at the time before the civil rights movement became a thing? He will have been put down like the rest of the POCs in America. Either that he's white-passing, or it's VERY difficult. Adding the fact he's a serial killer makes me think how the cops didn't get to him (the mere fact he's black should have got him questioned in 1920s America)

Now, for his identity. I'm mad he's the only aroace character in the sea of gays and bisexuals. (I'm not saying gay men and bisexual people should not have representation. I have to say that due to tumblr's piss poor reading comprehersion)

which made me go through on why Vivzie made him aroace in the first place. I don't know if this is true, but I heard she made him aroace because "he only loves himself"

Um. Here we go again with allos assuming we are non-empathic psychopaths for our lack of sexual or/and romantic attraction. I hope that's not true at all, but knowing Vivzie's past, I wouldn't be surprised.

Alastor would have been a great character if another person took care of it instead of Vivziepop. What I'm gonna say is, wasted potential.

#hazbin hotel critical #vivziepop critical #hazbin critique #hazbin critical #spindlehorse critical

[wishmaster]

In the Gutter...Punk

I've always wanted to give up my white collar life. To become a gutter punk freak. See what life is like on the other side. Covered in piercings and tattoos. But, you know, I only want it to be temporary so I can ultimately return to my life.

once your wish is initiated you suddenly feel strange, your body begins to feel as if it's on fire, your fancy clothing disappears from your body until your mind begins to alter as well, all the knowledge, years of college education fade away. You feel yourself becoming dumber. You stumble around until you make it to the mirror in your small, clutter apartment. You're shocked by the image staring back at you.

A total stranger looks back huge piercings in your ears, tats everywhere, even on your face which makes it difficult for you to find and hold down a job now, From the horns in your head, temporarily small till you can get the bigger ones implanted, you loved the freak you were creating, so damn carefree and not giving a damn what anyone thought of you. Fuck yeah, your bud at the tat shop promised to take you under his wing and teach you the ropes, the least he could do since he was practically using you as his canvas for advertising.

Fuck your boyfriend was waiting for you outside, you guys were going to hang out tonight and get totally stoned before fucking each other all night. You have a week or so in this body, that is if you remember to return to my mansion by midnight of next Saturday. A week passes, you're laid out next to your boy friend smoking the best god damn weed you ever had, thank fuck he works at that new weed shop, your alarm goes off at 11:30Pm. Fuck I know that was for something important you tell your boy, but whatever, fuck it can't be that important you say, rolling over kissing your boy, sealing your fate as your new persona becomes permanent. Enjoy your new life Jagger the Gutter Punk Freak.

#body transformation #male transformation #twisted wish #submission #body stuck

[dollyyyhouse]

YAYAYAYA I FINALLY FINISHED THE SECOND PART OF THIS ^^ This is the second part of the previous Belphegor lesson 16 AU. I'm happy I'm finally posting again, I feel like I've been gone for so long... it's weird not posting how often I want to 😭 On another note it's my birthday in like an hour and I'm nervous 🫠

Spoilers for lesson 16 of Obey Me!!!!!

The freezing water engulfed your body, almost as if it were a vicious monster. Even after you thought of it as a monster about to destroy you, that monster still would've been nicer to you than the Avatars of Hell. At this point it felt like anybody in the entire universe was kinder than them, living with them was like a punishment for a crime you didn't commit. Perhaps it was one, you didn't come to Devildom on your own terms and hardly ever spoke to some of the brothers. "Why am I the one suffering? I didn't do anything wrong.", those were the words you kept repeating in your cluttered head.

The dark daytime felt even darker and the windy nights were even windier. You felt like a walking corpse; slow, tired, and sickly. You lost the motivation to eat, clean yourself and even sleep. It didn't matter if you were awake or not, the images of your own blood and corpse plagued your subconscious.

You closed your eyes and let out the remaining air in your lungs, allowing yourself to sink even deeper. That was when a strong hand pulled you out of the water, "MC, are you enjoying the pool so far?" Wiping off the water on your face, you opened your eyes to see Diavolo holding your hand, supporting you from sinking any deeper. "Oh, yeah it's nice.." Lord Diavolo invited you over to spend some time with him and Barbatos, so you asked if you could go into the pool and he gladly agreed. You didn't truly know why you wanted to get into the pool, you weren't sure if it was because you had the hopes of dying or because you just wanted someone, something, to embrace you.

"Is everything alright? It looks like you have a lot on your mind." The Lord gave you a small smile, one that didn't feel genuine. "I'm fine, I guess I do have a lot on my mind." You knew the purpose of you being in Devildom, to rekindle the broken ties with the other realms, a job you didn't want. "Are you sure, MC? You've seemed a bit down lately." Couldn't help but slightly glare at the demon, he wasn't dumb, he knew why you seemed different than usual. You couldn't tell why he was acting dumb, you hated it. You'd rather him just talk to you about Belphegor, the rest of the brothers and your ties with the demon realm instead of making you suffer like this.

You thought that maybe after you confronted Belphegor at the dinner table you'd feel just a little better, but instead you felt even angrier. You were sad, exhausted and most of all angry, angry because nothing was changing and the demons around you still weren't owning up for everything they had said and done. "I didn't ask for this! I didn't want to be brought to Devildom, I don't wanna bare this pain and pressure of constantly trying to make everything better!", you snapped at him. "MC, I'm sor—", "No! I don't want your fucking apology, I'm tired of hearing 'sorry, sorry, sorry' over and over again!" You grasped his hand that was holding yours, slightly leaning him closer to the pool. "You know what you've done, why am I suffering for things I've never done?! Why am I being treated like a chew toy?!" Tears began streaming down your face, not mistaken for pool water.

"I should've known how everything would've ended up, you're worse than demons! You made me go through timelines, made me almost get ripped to shreds and got me killed! All of this for what? To fucking help people who've hurt me! I'm not the one whose going to be able to reunite the realms, so leave me out of this shit!" With your other hand you grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the water alongside you. In the corner of your eye you could see Barbatos quickly appear at the edge of the pool, wanting to protect the Lord but seemingly waiting for a signal.

You straddled his waist and formed your fists into balls, "Why?! Why?! Why am I suffering like this? I can't escape it! All I can think about is the mental and physical pain, how Belphegor choked me and forced me to choke to death on my own blood! I still remember how I saw my body, blue and bloody! It hurt, it hurt so bad! I can't just say the mental pain is the only thing that hurts, the physical pain does too!!", you screamed at him. Like a feather, the two of you floated on top of the water, dipping under every now and then. You began pounding your fist on his chest, this was the first time you became even slightly violent. "MC, I promise you I will change this." Diavolo looked at you sternly, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes, an expression you weren't used to seeing in a long time. Your pounding slowly died down and your sobbing became louder, "D-iavolo.. I want to believe that, but I-I don't think I can anymore.." You hung your head, what happened to you? You used to be so easily excited, used to love spending time with friends but now everything and everyone felt gloomy and tiring.

"I should've thought more about how you felt, I'm sure this is unbelievably hard on you. You have no powers like Solomon, you're not an angel or demon and you were thrown into a realm you knew nothing about. I hurt you, even though my intentions were good what I did was selfish." With his hands, he held both of yours in his, "You're so strong MC, and I'm not gonna push you to your limit anymore."

Those words felt bittersweet, comforting yet cruel. You'll never forget how Belphegor brutally murdered you, you still remember the metallic taste of your blood and how you slowly and painfully lost all your senses the closer you neared death. If felt horrible, horrible to be away from home, stuck with demons, your murderer, and was secretly being manipulated by everyone around you. It felt as if your true self was really dead, and now you were just a shell of who you once were.

#obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me belphie #asmo obey me #satan obey me #mammon obey me #lucifer obey me #obey me otome #obey me angst #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me x you #obey me x gender neutral reader #obey me au #obey me lesson 16 #obey me lesson 16 spoilers #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo #obey me fanfiction #angst prompt #angst with no happy ending #Spotify #reaches #notice me pls #i dont know what to tag this #what tags do i even use #angst fic #obey me brothers #obey me anime

[theloveablesociopath]

My Creature

Chapter 1: The Agreement

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem reader

Summary: Eddie is attacked by a creature while in hiding, soon realizing this “thing” isn’t what it seems to be.

Authors note: I hope y’all like this, it came to me randomly and I really like the idea of a strong scary creature that only Eddie knows their true colors. Let me know what you think comments are very appreciated. Ps: I’m dyslexic but I tried really hard with grammar so go easy on me.

Reader notes:

reader is a succubus type monster, very little language and communication skills are left in her brain, but as time goes on she will become more verbal.

Eddies POV

——-

I feel like Iv been hiding for days at this point, but what the fuck am I supposed to do, one minute I’m here, one minute I’m not. My brain is in complete and udder shambles and I feel like I’ve lost my mind. God maybe I have… she was right there… Chrissy and then she… god no please don’t think about it anymore, I just want to forget!

They’re coming for me… I need to find someplace to hide any place where they can’t just pop in on me. Reefer Rick… I know he’s not home I know his house is empty and honestly I don’t really have much of a choice.

So here I am.. breaking into his house like some sort of fucking psycho. At least I’ll be safe…

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Third POV —

——————————————-

A very shaken and tired Eddie finally found himself rummaging threw his friends house trying to find a place safe enough to hide, but it seemed like every room had to many windows, and every closet was to closed off to run from danger. Which finally led him to seeing the cascade of a small flood light coming from an old boat shed outside.

He made his way out back, jumping from shadow to shadow, as if he was scared of the moon light itself. He quickly ran from the dark siding of the house to the shed door, and forced himself in, desperate to keep out of eyesight. The moon light reflecting off the water sending a low sheen of blue around the room. Cluttered with tarps and tools.

He felt his body sink down against the wall, as his eyes flooded with his fears.

“God… oh my god.” He muttered to himself. Grabbing the sides of his head as he caved in on his body. Images of what he had just seen flashing in his mind over and over again. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? He questioned, sobbing into his knees, defeated. He couldn’t run, he couldn’t really hide, he could only wait, wait for someone to find him, and accuse him of the unthinkable.

A loud rustle from under a tarp immediately silenced his sorrows, his breath hitching in his throat.

He braced the wall behind him, slowly bringing himself to his feet as he reached for the nearest thing he could find, an old ratchet laying against the window seal.

The rustling continued, small frantic jerks from under the tarp lain over the small boat in the center of the room.

“S-show yourself.” He spoke, but it came out more like a fearful stutter. Rather then the warning he wanted.

The rustling got louder, before stopping all together accompanied by a low growl.

An animal maybe? Eddie thought, raising the wrench in his hand as he circled the boat, before coming to a stop at the small opening in the tarp.

Two eyes where barley visible against the moon light but where outlined by the shape of a face and (H/C) hair, poking out from the edges of the tarp.

Eddies eyes widened as he studied the persons eyes, void of any white, just pitch black orbs. He looked a little too long, not giving himself time to think as the person sprung out from under the tarp, leaping in the air with a low growl and slamming down on his chest. His back hit the concrete, grunting and realizing his only weapon had been knocked to the side. His eyes glanced up, face to face with the person he had seen. A girl? He thought. But he wasn’t quite sure, her mouth sat agape, flashing snarling sharp teeth at him as she all but screeched. Spewing saliva against his skin, her pitch black eyes boring into him nearly frantic as they searched his features. He could feel sharp claws digging themselves into the flesh on his shoulders, causing him to wince in pain.

He shifted his eyes down, glancing at her scuffed and tattered clothes, a ripped red T-shirt and torn jeans, and no shoes to be seen.

The fear in him building as he realized this girl, this creature, had him pinned helplessly in place.

“P-Please.” Eddie spoke. “Please don’t.” His voice breaking with every word, not realizing the tears that started to spill over his cheeks, running down the sides of his face.

The girl looked puzzled for a moment, her eyes studying his every move, before slowly shutting her mouth and gazing at the tears that gushed from his now closed blood shot eyes.

When he finally opened his eyes to look at her again, he noticed the black had started to retreat into her pupils, the whites of her eyes coming back to take over until she was left with two large oversized black irises. He felt the claws on his shoulders slowly diminish until it felt more like the normal harsh grip of a person. The girl slowly began to back up off of him until she crouched low in front of him.

He scrambled backwards propping himself against the wall again and grabbing another random object from the floor, this time a metal pole and sticking it out in caution.

“Sorry.” Her voice came out as a whisper, raspy and raw like she had been screaming for years.

“W-who are you.” He demanded, his hand shaking as he pointed his weapon at her.

“Sorry.” She repeated. Backing away slightly on her knees.

“What do you want?!” He yelled, “and don’t fuck with me ok, I don’t know what this shit is, if your human or not human, but Iv seen some shit in the last several hours so I’m not waiting around to find out ‘ight!!” His breathing was rapid, as he tried hard to keep a steady grip on the only thing between him and this strange creature. She stared at him, eyes wide and but seemingly calm, as she shifted to look out into the lake, before returning to stare at him.

“Hungry.” She said lowly. Barley above a whisper and still blank as she stared.

“Hungry? Hungry. Right we’ll I’m not your fucking meal so take whatever you came here for besides a fucking piece of me, and leave.” He shakenly stated. Eyes completely fixed on her every move.

She looked up at the night sky again before looking back at him and suddenly standing. Eddie watched welding his weapon as she moved the side of the wall, looking up at a small side skylight and down at him again. She sighed, eyes flooding with pigment like an ink soaked page, before launching herself up the metal, and crawling up and out the window. He waited for a moment, shaking violently from fear before realizing she wasn’t coming back.

“What the fuck.” He whispeared to himself. “What the fuck, what the fuck was that.” He hit the sides of his head with his hands, feeling the sobs tear through his heart once again as he balled in on himself on the dusty old concrete floor. The fear and adrenaline of the days events soaking into his mind.

It felt like hours had gone by, the night dragging along at an agonizingly slow pace, he slowly felt himself drift away into a much needed sleep, crumbled by his exhaustion.

His dreams filled themselves with images of chrissy, her body, her arms… her eyes…. Torturing him at every corner of darkness he tried so desperately to find peace in.

Yet before his emotions came to swallow him while, the sound of thudding metal shook him awake. He frantically grabbed onto the metal pipe again, jumping into a croached position. His eyes finally adjusting to the dark of the room as he noticed a figure climbing down from the wall. It was her again, creeping along the floor on all fours, something swaying around her mouth. His breathing started to get rapid, fear came barreling back to his heart. As she got closer, his ring clad fingers, gripped fearfully to the metal pipe.

“What the fuck do you want now?!” He yelled, his voice shaking.

The moon faintly illuminated her as she crouched in front of him. As he soon made out the details of blood and fur notched between her jaws. His eyes went wide, horror written on his face. She inched as close as she could to him, before dropping what was in her mouth, her teeth stained red from the liquid. He looked down, stomach turning at the dead squirrel in front of him.

“What. The. Fuck.” He whispeared, eyes clicking up to her face, smeared blood around the corner of her lips, her eyes dark and soulless as before.

“Hungry.” She stated. Backing up slightly to give him room.

“Hungry…? hungry.. oh.” And then it clicked. This creature, this thing, this girl. Was trying to FEED HIM?

“Uhhh… thank you… I guess.”

She nodded slowly, seeming to wait for him to do something.

What the hell do you do in this situation. He can’t actually eat this dead fucking squirrel, and if he refused it was she going to.. I don’t know EAT HIM???!

Eddie took a deep breath.

“I… I don’t,..eat this… stuff. If that makes sense.?” He pushed the squirrel Aside with his shoe, glancing up to see if she would attack him. But she sat, quietly, her eyes slowly glazing back to normal.

“I- I appreciate it, don’t get me wrong, I just. Uh Can’t. Eat it, you understand?”

She nodded. Raising a hand to scratch her dirt caked and hair matted scalp.

“O’kay… we’ll then, uhh..” he looked around. Wondering what to do now that he was sitting by a dead squirrel with a fucking monster girl creature sat across from him.

He didn’t have much time though because in another second she had lunged forward, scaring the shit out of him as he raised his metal pole, closing his eyes expecting the impact before hearing a loud sloppy crunch. He opened one eye, watching as the girl began to chow down on the creature, tearing at it and swallowing everything whole.

He sighed, getting up from the floor and running a hand through his hair.

“Ok. So am I like, fine with assuming that your not gonna eat me? Or kill me? Or tear the flesh off me as I sleep? Because I’m reallllllly tired of feeling like I’m gonna die every second of my life.” He knew he was basically ranting to himself but he thought he’d give it a try. The girl stared up at him, finishing off the bloody pile of fur and nodding.

“Yes.” She stated.

“Oh.. ok so you can understand me? You know what I said? Your not gonna eat me?” He asked again.

“Yes.” She repeated.

“Ok… ok good. God I am going insane.” He began pacing lightly.

“So Iv decided that your either real, or a figment from my nightmares come to haunt me and honestly I don’t know which is worse so.” He threw his hands in the air, “im just gonna say, fuck it. Let’s just chill with the squirrel eating, feral half orc whatever the fuck you are,… I guess.” He scratched the bag of his neck groaning in frustration. “Jesus h Christ, I’m a psychopath, a mental case, holy fuck.” He sat down on a small milk create beside him, running his hands down his face. In the silence of the room, he could hear a small laugh, barley loud enough to catch. His eyes shot up to look at her. The smallest smile visible on her face.

“Are… are you laughing at me?” He asked.

She nodded back.

“Ok… getting laughed at by a monster, that’s a first, so… uh look if your gonna stay… what’s your name? Who are you?” He motioned out with his hands earning complete silence from her. “Do you have anything you go by or?”

She thought for a moment before her eyes perked up. She stood, walking toward him and sitting in front of him.

“(Y/n)” she said. Softly. Reaching a hand out to him.

He laughed through his nose, nearly sounding like a scoff. She was really wanting to shake hands?

“Eddie.” He returned, cautiously shaking her hand back.

She nodded, looking around the room and back at him.

“Ok so one thing, (y/n), if your gonna stay with me, you gotta wash your face off , ight’ it’s just really hard to believe your not gonna rip off my flesh, with that much blood around your mouth. Ok?”

She gave a Kurt nod before bringing her hands up to whip at her face. Eddie quickly realizing she was doing nothing but smearing it around.

“Ok. Ok. Stop.” He said, looking around “uhhh. Ah ok.” He grabbed an old rag off a shelf to his side, as soon as he spotted it, and dipped the corner in the lake beside him. He sighed again, throwing precautions to the wind as he motioned to her to approach him. “Come here.” He commanded. She looked worried, eyeing him with slight fear and looking around.

“Listen, if I was gonna hurt you I would have already ok? We have an argument right? Don’t eat me, I won’t hurt you. Now come here.” He motioned again. Finally receiving a small nod as she crawled the short distance to sit between his legs. She looked up at him, her oversized black eyes, watching his every move.

He reached out, grabbing the side of her face as she tried slightly to pull away before relaxing, he lifted the old rag and began slowly whipping away at the nearly crusted blood against her cheeks and lips.

“You know, not to be rude, but your eyes are kinda fucking scary.” He joked.

She let a small nervous smile show on her lips.

After she was cleaned up, she moved back again to sit away from him.

Eddie looked around, yawning and rubbing at his eyes.

“Ok listen, I’m gonna sleep over there, you stay out here, and maybe even keep watch if your up for it? Ok?” He asked. She nodded in response.

“God you don’t talk much do you?” Earning a head shake from her.

He sighed getting up and slowly making his way to the small boat. Hunkering down in it.

“Ok…. Uh.. Goodnight. Remember our deal ok?” He confirmed, as she nodded again.

At this point he was all but convinced he lost his mind, in no other case would he ever fall asleep with a strange creature girl thing just a few feet away from him, but all sanity had flown out the window for him, as he drifted off to sleep.

His eyes snapped open to the sound of a door opening and voices in the air around him.

What the fuck, wheres the demon girl thing, when you need her? He started to realize they where discussing him, looking for him. Oh god, oh fuck. Shit shit shit, he gripped on to what was around him, fumbling quietly with a bottle that layed beside him. He heard the voices get louder, and the clanking around him filled his head. It all happens so quickly it was like a blur, befor he found himself pinning a man against the wall with the bottle broken in his hands.

He could barley hear as dustin called his name, trying desperately to reason with him.

“He won’t. Hurt you. Eddie.” Dustin repeated.

“Why are you here?!” Eddie spat out.

“We’re looking for you.” Dustin replied, his hands up in caution as he approached him.

After several pleas Eddie finally released the man in his grip, moving backwards and slumping down against a wall.

“We. Just. Want. To talk.” Dustin stated reaching for the bottle in Eddie’s hands as he jerked back in fear.

“Ok….Hey hey… it’s Ok…. We just wanna talk.” Dustin repeated. Until Eddie finally released his grip on the glass.

His cheeks bloomed with tears as the images came flooding back to his head.

He finally began to explain the details of the night before, barley able to shake the words from his tongue as fear laced into his eyes.

“You all think I’m crazy right?”

“No. We don’t think your crazy at a-”

“Don’t bullshit me man! I know how this sounds.”

“We’re not bullshitting you.”

“We believe you.”

“Look-“ Dustin started before the sound of scraping metal sent everyone’s eyes scattered around.

Eddie turned his head at the familiar sound, shifting around before he caught site of her. threw the corner of his vision, she began crawling down the side of the wall behind them. Slamming her self on the ground before running on all fours and leaping straight for Dustin. Robin and navy jumping away in terror.

Shit. He thought. It wasn’t a dream.

Eddie stood up quickly eyes wide.

Steve grabbed the ore beside him wielding it, as (y/n) crashed down on top of Dustin, pinning him to the floor, her sharp teeth showing as she screeched at the boy underneath her. Dustin screamed in fear, the rest of the group yelling curses and scrambling to find items to fight with.

Steve held up his ore lifting it above him.

“WAIT! WAIT WAIT!!” Eddie yelled.

Steve stopped, breath jagged and fearful.

Dustin crying beneath the creature.

“(Y/n).” He spoke softly. Looking at her, claws embedded in Dustin’s chest.

“(Y\n) it’s ok. They’re with me. Ok? Understand.” He reached out, as she looked up at him. Growling, as whatever animals blood she had been eating dripped from her chin.

Steve’s fear got the best of him as he slammed the ore down on her back, causing a loud shriek to cascade from her mouth, as she turned and lunged at the man.

“Fuck! (Y/n) no no no!” Eddie ran around Dustin, grabbing onto her torso as her mouth nearly missed the side of Steve’s arm.

Eddie pulled her back holding her in his grip.

“Dude! I said wait!” Eddie yelled.

“Wait?! What is that thing! It could’ve have killed Dustin!” Steve screamed back.

(Y/n) struggled in Eddie’s grip, snarling up at the group.

“She wouldn’t have! Ok!” Eddie yelled back. Tightening his arm around her.

“(Y/n).” He stated “(y/n) calm down ok? Listen.” He breathed slowly, backing up with her. “Part of our argument included my friends ok?. It’s fine. They’re not gonna hurt you.” He looked at the ore beside Steve, sighing.

“Well not anymore, ok it was an accident. Just. Just calm down ok?” He talked quietly, as the others watched in worry.

She began to slow her protests in his arms, settling herself and looking up at him.

“Friends?” She asked.

“Yes. Yes friends ok? Not a threat. Now calm.” He demanded.

She slowly retracted her teeth, closing her mouth and breathing deeply as her eyes returned to almost normal.

“There you go… good girl.” He stated, feeling almost stupid treating her like some sort of animal. But I mean… she wasn’t really all that human either.

Dustin scrambled to his feat, fear and confusion in his wide eyes.

“Eddie what the fuck! Is that thing?” He asked.

“Ok.. ok I know how this looks. But SHE, is just uh…. A friend I made.. while in hiding. Ok?” He answered.

“A friend?!” Max yelled.

“Yes! Ok. She’s uh…. I don’t actually know. But she won’t hurt you ok. She’s just scared, and probably thought I was in trouble.” He stated.

“Yeah… yeah right ok. We’ve, defiantly dealt with weirder.” Robin said.

“She wouldn’t have attacked, this guy.” Eddie pointed at Steve. “If he would have just put the ore down.”

“Hey! Like I said! I was scared for Dustin!” Steve answered.

“We’ll all it did was hurt her and make her mad! Next time just let me handle it!” Eddie still had a light grip around her as she watched around the room.

“Ok! Ok. Eddie, who the hell is this? You’ve never mentioned her before.” Dustin asked.

“Well uh…” Eddie shifted his eyes. “I kinda just like… found her the other day… but it’s fine ok… she’s fine.”

“You just met her! And you trust she won’t fucking tear us apart!” Steve yelled.

“Listen! I know how it seems ok. But trust me. She’s fine. We have an agreement.”

“An agreement?!” Nancy questioned.

“Yes! An agreement! Right (y/n)? I don’t hurt you, you don’t hurt me. Ya?” He looked down at her as she nodded slowly.

“Yes.” She stated.

Eddie finally dropped the arm he had wrapped around (y/n), so she could stand up properly.

“Ok… so now that everyone’s done yelling!” Eddie shouted.

“(Y/n) this is Dustin, and red and their friends.” Eddie motioned.

She slowly walked over to Dustin, his demeanor tensing.

“Dustin.” She said extending a hand to him.

He flinched at her, looking down at the hand before cautiously extending his own.

“Uh. Yes.” He replied shaking it quickly before retracting himself, eyes wide looking at the blood still smeared on her face.

“She literally still has blood on her face Eddie.” Max questioned, causing Eddie to grimace.

“Oh right.” He said. “Look I promise it’s not human, she like… uh eats animals or somthing… (y/n) come here.” He commanded causing her to walk over to him quickly, as he used to corner of his sleeve to start whipping away at her mouth.

The group watched in complete confusion.

“I’m sorry… she eats animals?! Like… live ones?! Like she catches them?!” Nancy questioned.

“I mean… like technically we do to right?” Eddie quirked a brow causing Dustin’s face to drop.

“Dude she just comes when you call her?” He asked completely changing the subject.

“Uhhh yeah kinda I-“ Eddie’s started.

“Like a pet?” Steve questioned.

“No. No man, not like that she just-“ eddie tried again.

“Like an attack dog.” Dustin stated, eyes wide in awe.

“Dude no. Listen. She just, trusts me I don’t know.” He finally said.

“How do you know? I mean didn’t you just meet her?” Robyn asked.

“I - I just do! I mean it seems like it ok?”

Eddie argued with the group as (y/n) stood shifting her eyes to each of them.

“So what are you just gonna keep her around? Let her follow you?” Nancy asked from across the room, eyeing Eddie.

“Uhh.. I mean. She’s not hurting anyone.”

“She could!” Steve interjected.

“She won’t!” Eddie shouted back.

“I mean the least we could do is get her some new clothes and clean her up? She looks like she crawled out of a sewer.” Max mentioned,

“Ok fine, fine, Eddie just makes sure she doesn’t hurt anyone ok?” Dustin stated, putting a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie looked at him and back over to the dirty quite girl looking around in confusion.

“She won’t. I know she won’t .” He replied quietly, glancing over at her with a small smile.

#theloveablesociopath #fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x creature reader

[kittytheartist]

people can leave Teru the fuck alone now

Teru's dialogue and face expressions in chapter 87 was so distraught that even to this day it surprises me how quickly people threw Teru under the rug again?

Teru is a harder character to read sure, but too hard to understand what actually happened in chapter 87?

Teru's eyebrow movement is a huge part to telling his character!

look here, we can see Teru's frustration right? but his right eyebrow is twitched, which is his clear sign of discomfort, annoyance, and overall hurt. Teru here, is completely hurt by the damage Hanako has caused for his already crumbling life, Hanako hasn't just fucked up an innocent livings life span but hurt the people he knows by doing so, Akane's life is ruined, Kou's life will never be the same, Hanako has just been making this worse for Kou. Hanako is completely insufferable and foolish, childish, and all the niave jazz, Teru hates it, can't stand it to be more exact.

and before then his eyebrows stayed quite monotonous, and blunt, he's quite frustrated and concentrated, he wants to get rid of Hanano clearly and has no other objectives at the moment (besides Aoi ofc)

here Teru is satisfied with breaking through Hanako's thick skull, but he's still pissed which we can see in his eyebrow movement and his low smile

but here, after Kou interrupts his fight, he's quite pissy, and his eyebrows tilt downward in the middle only to raise at the top, he's exhausted and is sick of Kou not being able to make up his mind.

here it shows Teru having his eyebrows fully narrowed which is a expression we've never seen him wear before, it's always been his low-key eyebrows like above, so this just goes to show how much pain this has caused for Teru, he's hurt, so confused, Kou has never acted this way before he me Hanako, it's something that Teru will never understand about Kou. it's frustrating for him, Teru is used to knowing, this is all a first, it's something Teru doesn't have the slightest idea on.

here is an even more emotional panel, Teru doesn't have narrowed eyes because he doesn't care, it's because he cares too much, he's deep in thought, his head is cluttered, and most of all he feels betrayed by family. the edge of his mouth in the second panel has a slight curve at the tip while the rest is wanting to shut up, he clearly doesn't want to speak yet he can't stop, having so many emotions he's never expressed before is a lot on a 17 year old. all he wants is to shut Kou up. it's all too much for Teru, but he could never shut Kou up, he's never done that, and didn't even when he himself was crumbling infront of his own brother.

here his lip curls downward and his eyes and eyebrows are out of view here, clearly hiding his own emotions with Kou's and hiding behind Kou, he's clearly trying to hide his face. he's hunched over himself too, he's trying to find somewhere to hide but he's already throwing himself out there. even Teru's grip on his sword and Kou isn't tight from frustration, it's just strained and hurt.

and I'm sure you've noticed from all these images, Teru's eyes are always near a squint and his lashes cover half of his face. which he does when he's about to cry, breakdown, has something on his mind, ect. you get my drift? also a major point to reading his facial expressions, is the strain at the inner edge of his eye.

it's clearly narrowed and we can see the tear ducts trying to dry his eyes, but with what we're seeing, it's barely holding, Teru's eyes are filled with tears, but his first reactions to emotions has never been to cry, but here his eyes are clearly distressed. they're wrinkled near the nose in oppression and distress, we can see the under of his eye puff out from the button lid being drawn in, and the natural reaction to get rid of tears is to blink or squint, his eyes are very strained here, and he's clearly very tired, over worked, stressed and overall doesn't need Kou's shit right now. especially not him going behind his back, Teru showed a sign of trust by letting him come with him, and letting him take care of the Red House himself (not knowing he messed with shit about the past obviously) and completely lost faith in Kou after he gave his trust.

needless to say. Kou wasn't the one who was hurt in chapter 87 it was

Teru.

#tbhk #jshk #toilet bound hanako kun #jibaku shonen hanako kun #jshk manga #manga #tbhk manga #teru minamoto #minamoto teru #teru #jshk teru #tbhk teru #tbhk angst #tbhk analysis #jshk analysis #teru analysis #minamoto teru analysis #character analysis #jshk87 #tbhk87 #kou minamoto #minamoto kou #jshk kou #tbhk kou

[n4mekian]

RULES & GUIDELINES:

My Piccolo's canon is derived from the events of the original Dragon Ball and its spin-off Dragon Ball Z. Due to personal preference, recent spin-offs such as Super, Heroes, etc., as well as all of the recent movies, will be disregarded. However, I'd still happy to interact with characters that originate from modern day Dragon Ball, but please bear in mind that I won't know much beyond what you have in your 'biography'/'headcanons' of them and how you portray them in writing.

When it comes to following, I do consider myself selective because I'd rather have a dashboard filled with content that I enjoy seeing. I tend to forgo following people who seem to be fans of discourse surrounding entertainment rather than entertainment itself, so if I find that your blog mostly consists of "hot takes" and "unpopular opinions" then I will be uninterested. Similarly, if you participate in call-out culture, drama, witch-hunting, moral grandstanding and the like, then I will be uninterested. I made this blog for fun and I want to befriend people who are here for fun, not to be miserable.

Also, I ask that you only follow this blog if you truly intend to interact. I don't accumulate followers for the hell of it and I don't want to be treated as just another number to a person's amount of followers. I will take the initiative to get things going but should I feel that you are not reciprocating my efforts after some time, I will soft-block you. RP is a two-way street. This isn't to say that I expect speedy replies or nonstop activity from you, just don't make it seem as though I have to chase you because I won't.

Speaking of replies and activity, I may be slow sometimes, I may be fast sometimes, it all depends on my mood and the state of affairs in my personal life, really. Needless to say, this is a hobby, so I will get around to things at my leisure. Please do not act entitled to my time. If you are concerned about whether I have seen something that you sent or the status of our thread, feel free to make that known to me.

I'm going to be blunt here and admit that I love having romantic and sexual connections for my muse! If you see a prompt where it's implied that the two of our muses are partners, fuck buddies, friends with benefits or whatnot, and you want to send something, send away. Or we can plot and discuss ideas and possibilities. Or we can just do a build-up/slow-burn and see where the chemistry takes things. All in all, don't be shy if you want some pickle.

Now, I believe I should mention that I'm okay with writing NSFW topics and I'm old enough to do so. I don't tag the common triggers. Considering I'm roleplaying a character from Dragon Ball, violence, blood, gore, death, genocide, etc., will likely be depicted in abundance here whether through images or writing. If that isn't something you can handle, simply do not follow. Any depictions that are particularly egregious or jarring may be tagged but I doubt I'm going to go out of my way to reblog anything that fits this criteria, honestly.

I'm okay with fight threads! Altercations are bound to happen given that Piccolo is a bit of an asshole. If plotting these types of threads are easier for you, come message me and we can plot, but I'm fine if it just happens spontaneously and we wing it!

I repeat: Piccolo is a a bit of an asshole. His views and opinions are not reflective of my own. I'm not projecting myself onto him in any way. Him being rude to your muse isn't indicative of how I, the mun, feel about your muse.

Please reblog everything from the source. I don't want my activity feed to be cluttered so I can keep track of interactions.

Please respond to my answer to an ic message you sent in a separate post, do not reblog the post containing the message/answer itself.

Mun is 21+! I have Discord and it will be made available to mutuals who ask for it. Also can be found @baardock.

[patiann345]

Ok but... why are they so uggglyyyy????

Just gonna dump some of my ROTB thoughts here before the movie releases. Long post, very ramble-y,, >3<

I haven't kept up with all the news about it I'm sure, but I have been looking out for the designs and. Oh my...

Look, I have no doubt ROTB will be a good movie. A great one? I'll have to see, but I don't think it can ever get as bad as Bayverse. I've heard (word-of-mouth, no source sorry) that Cullen is really happy working on it, and that he thinks it's gonna be the best of the movies so far, which like,, it's Peter Cullen, man's been here since G1 I trust his judgment slkhasdkg

And real quick, before I get into the meat of what I wanna talk about, I do wanna make something clear; I fucking love Beast Wars. I binged it when I was first getting into Transformers, and yeah there's a reason it's in such high regard.

And I'm more than aware the animation is dated. And I'm more than aware there are a lot of people who would never think to watch BW or any show like it cause "Ew it's so old, it looks grosssss"

That's always been a really stupid argument to me. If you can rewatch Toy Story for the 5th time at your family reunion, you can watch some slightly dated-looking cartoons. I firmly believe that the WRITING and STORY ultimately makes a show. It can look pretty "yuck" or weird, but if it's well-written and engaging, I think it's worth more than it's visuals y'know? A movie or show can look beautiful and stunning, but that won't change it having bad writing and plot.

Anyways it's 2023 and uh, yeah why do Optimus and Megatron look like thatttttt???????? Girl there is no excuse

Megatron particularly like, that face could work on another bot but... Not MEGATRON, not when his Bumblebee concept stuff looked like THIS:

LOOK AT THIS MAN. WROW. Could use some color, the body's a little cluttered, but his face looks good! Great even! He fits the style that Bumblebee (2018) had set up and built. ROTB though? Christ-

That's not even getting into Optimus who's got that Bayverse crap going on with his face, which is,, so disappointing. He looks just fine with the mask on, but it comes off and it looks bleh. There's no reason for them to look like this! Seriously, cause everyone else (at least the autobots, haven't seen the maximals) look great!!

I particularly love Arcee's design, think she looks great, and I actually kind of prefer her design here over her Bumblebee (2018) look

Oh and hey speaking of that, Wheeljack what the fuuuuucckkk????

Sorry I've only got the toy image on hand but... That's not Wheeljack, I dunno who that is, but it ain't Wheeljack. Let it be known I'm not seething with rage like other people may be over this design, I don't mind deviation from the norm, just look at Armada or TFA. You can deviate from a character's usual look or schtick and make it work!

But when you look at his Bumblebee (2018) design,,,, We were robbed. We were robbed blindddd

I bring up all these examples because the designs are so. Hit or miss. And I don't understand why or how they ended up this way. Bumblebee (2018) had amazing character designs, that's evident enough by Bee's design in ROTB, he's still using that same helm and face and his body is still very much inspired by his look in the last film.

I brought up the dated animation in shows and films earlier because I don't want anyone to think I'm going to think less of this movie for its designs. If the writing and story and characters are good, then that's a good movie in my book. BUT there is,, no reason for half the characters to look like THAT, not when the other half look so GOOD. It is not 1996, it's 2023. Which like, Beast Wars had problems with age in its animation and rendering, NOT in character design. The CGI in ROTB looks amazing from what we've seen in trailers! But,,, the desssiiiggnnnnssssssssss. Optimus' Mouttthhhhh.

I'm gonna see this movie, that's a promise. When it hits theaters? Maybe, I'll have to see, y'never know what'll happen. But at SOME POINT, I'mma see this movie. And I really really hope it's good, I hope it's great! Hell, I hope it'll be the best movie in the catalog! But... I also hope it doesn't set a standard in terms of design.

Well. No, let me put it this way; I hope it doesn't set a standard for how certain characters will look in future installments. I love Arcee's look, I love Bee's, I hope they continue with that! cause. But man, Megatron is so ugglyyy, Optimus' mouth is gross, and Wheeljack just isn't Wheeljack. I'd hate to see them devolve into more Bayverse mess again, please Hasbro-

Lemme end this before I start repeating myself

#Roddy Rambles #ROTB #Rise of the beasts #ROTB spoilers #just in case #Transformers #Transformers rise of the beasts #TF ROTB #I just really wanted to ramble about the designs cause it's #really. really bugging me #No Optimusss you're so sexy who did this to you LDHLJGSDHLJGSDHGS #Ok ok no but real talk I'm. I'm worried about what this means for the future #AND THE MAXIMALS GOD I HAVEN'T SEEN THEM YET #AIRAZOR PLEASE DON'T LOOK YUCKKYY I LOVE YOU.. CHEETOR PLEASE

[thedawningofthehour]

1- I just remembered. Did leo ask Big mama about mind control/memory alteration methods before he left? Now that they know Draxum did something to donnie to make him forget, they should be doing as much research as possible on the subject. I know they are busy dealing with how they will bring him home first, but they should also be thinking about what they will do once they have him there. Besides, Splinter knows that Big mama is someone who knows 100% about that stuff.

Oh, oh oh! Mikey could go to Witch town with April to investigate! That way Mikey could learn about her mystical potential and April could get her mystical bat.

2- I've thought a lot about your theory about how the council of heads are actually Utrom and it makes a lot of sense! The way they project images looks a lot like what you would see on a spaceship! OH MY GOD! WHAT IF THE HEADS ARE ACTUALLY GIANT FUCKING MECHA!!? There are many ways this could play out and how they ended up in charge. My idea is that they could have been explorers who had been sent to find new conquerable planets, arrived on earth, and for reasons X, Y and Z ended up getting attached, but because they didn't report back in a long time their superiors got suspicious and became aware of earth, and so the heads decided to form a defense, created the Yōkai (by accident) and the four warriors along with the key. And because they were no longer part of the Krang they adopted the name of their ancestors: the Utrom.

I think the prophecy Draxum mentions is about the Krang, and the heads know it. That is why they are not so concerned about humans, and it is also the reason why they will be furious with Draxum when he starts his war. Heads: WE BREAK OUR ASSES FACING THE KRANG TO SAVE THE LIVES OF THIS PLANET AND THEN YOU COME! (They are a bit assholes, but all governments are to some extent). Also I don't think they are the only ones who knows, does anyone else find it strange that the E.P.F. came so fast to metro tower when no one knew what was going on there? Don't mind me, I just think it would be cool if Bishop and the heads are colluding somehow (even if Bishop isn't an Utrom).

2- I'm developing an AU, where Draxum and Splinter co-parenting, and Raph is going to have two cute crime against nature puppies. I just finish their desings yesterday. I just wish i could write as fast as i desing.

He did not, but to be fair if he thought she knew about memory magic he would have expected her to use it on Splinter to win him back. The fact that she hasn't is proof in Leo's mind that she doesn't know as much as she pretends she does. Splinter didn't ask because he's stupid.

Irl, I didn't have them ask because it wasn't what that scene was for and it would clutter up the dialogue to have them constantly asking people about memory magic and consistently get no result. Mystic nonsense with the brain isn't a super well explored area here-it's a very risky field and with a lot of varying results, because brains. Most people would not know of the procedure that Draxum used.

That's a pretty likely interpretation! Furthermore, was it straight-up confirmed that a Krang gave Saki the dark armor? Because the whole 'Shredder is the actual thing the prophecy was talking about' gets a new layer of irony with that.

I mean, it's ironic in the first place considering that the Yokai were essentially 'born' from Krang blood. (or corpse juice or whatever the fuck empyrean is supposed to be)

Were the EPF there during the movie? I know they showed up right at the end but the invasion was implied to take place over an entire day. If the EPF had an outpost or their headquarters nearly-which New York, they almost certainly did-showing up a few hours afterwards isn't much of a surprise. Especially considering it was not at all a secret-we see that people were posting shit on social media en masse and a reporter fucking dies live on air. Honestly, they were fucking slow.

#doth asks

[hellscape-halogens]

Being jealous, angry, or hurt is fine... as long as you don't do something that hurts someone as a result of those feelings.

Image source: Pinterest

I grew up in trailers, tiny camper RVs, and little manufactured military base homes. the smallest thing I've ever lived in was over almost 3 years, a microscopic chevy camper from the 80s. It was meant to hold 2 people at most but ended up holding 5. It was 350 sq ft at best. My parents were absolute ass with money, my mother especially having an awful time managing money if it didn't come out of an EBT card.

My best friend in high school? His family were heirs to a local retail chain, so he was pretty well off. Not filthy fucking rich, but in my mind they were very much up there. They had a 2000+ sq ft house with the biggest most magnificent windows I've ever seen and a kitchen I still find myself dreaming about... plus the food variety.

I remember crying by myself in their pantry after I was told it was okay to throw away a snack after I had been told it was okay if I didn't want to finish it.

But the jealousy-- and sometimes even the anger-- that I would feel because I saw so much wealth and time and love poured into the making of this home... I saw the windows and the spacious floor plan. I also saw photos, pictures, and achievements spanning back almost 2 decades. And I would think to myself that my own parents never kept anything like that, not even a report card or a picture from school picture day. Some would end up in the garbage because it "cluttered up" the wall or fridge, or it wasn't anything special to my parents.

I saw the love and the togetherness, and the fact that his parents cared enough to keep a drawing from 2006 up on their refrigerator when my parents threw anything older than a few days away. And I realized when I was 16 that my parents didn't really care, and it took me longer to realize they never would.

But did I allow my jealousy to affect my relationship with my friend? Absolutely not. I enjoyed myself in his presence and around his parents because they were some of the only people who truly made me feel like I was a part of something and not an outsider encroaching on their personal space.

My jealousy helped me confront the fact that my parents were not good people, and aided me in directing my energy toward devising a plan to get out and find a place where I would be properly appreciated.

I'm happy to report that I have found that place... but it still hurts that I had to wait almost my whole life to find it.

#not my image #catharsis #jealousy #growth #personal #reblog allowed

[llynwen]

wow! That was such an enlightening and beautiful answer to my question, thank you so very much, and congratulations on graduating soon🎉! I felt that same thrill of recognition seeing the people and their homes on the show, because yes poverty really is the same all over. I live in a blue collar town in northeast America, with forested hills instead of wetlands and logging instead of fishing, but I look at their clothes, at the places they hang out, at the porches and lawns filled with clutter and machine parts nestled between the trees, at the small dark house interiors, and I think "this all could've been filmed down the street from me." It must look depressing to others but I find comfort in the familiarity. We're all just surviving as best we can nestled in the detritus of abandoned industry and reclaiming nature, keeping our lives manageably small with little daily tasks and rewards, and beyond our town limits the land itself infinite as space. I guess that bigness is what sets apart American life, thousands of people go missing in the wilderness every year and it's just taken as a given. There's a whole plane that crashed in a Vermont forest in the 80s which I believe still hasn't been found. One thing not shown onscreen, and I don't mind this since true detective is a horror drama and it wouldn't fit the tone, are the threads of community we maintain—church suppers, family game and movie nights at the library, small town festivals, Christmas tree lightings in the square and such. Life is a patchwork of privation and joy.

One thing I will advise you about if you come here (welcome btw) is picking the state with the best resources for you. Montana is gorgeous but the New England states have the best healthcare, and the east coast in general has the most public transit with our trainlines. If what matters is the job than you can visit anywhere I guess, but outside of the cities you better have a coworker/host with a reliable car willing to drive you around, because otherwise you will be stuck and lonely in the miles between anywhere. We joke about Rust being a passenger princess but bumming rides is a way of life here. Other than that, don't whistle at night in the southwest, always being more money than you think is needed to the store, look up any Indigenous nation near where you stay to maybe visit their cultural center, and have a good time!

hi again! so sorry for taking this long to respond, I've been busy with school and other shit, you know how it is

america is such a fascinating and complex place fr, and the negative aspects of it you mention were never shown in the media i (and may other europeans) consume. we're fed this image of this perfect land of the free american dream you can achieve anything if you work hard enough self made man kind of thing. but I'm glad to hear that you have this community - in my experience, that is not really the case here. i hardly ever talk to my neighbors (occasional good mornings and that about it), i don't go to church, but the people who do also don't really know one another, people only every talk to their family members and friends from places like school and work. i feel like in this aspect we could for sure learn from y'all.

when i do come visit I'm pretty sure it wont be permanent (unless chevy does actually wife me, then who knows). i just want to get a taste of that cowboy life i crave so much. i want to see the national parks (hope i don't go missing) and spend some time in the Space of it all. I am aware of the lack of public transport and i am prepared to drive everywhere, but thank you for the heads up. i also know about tax not being included in prices of stuff - which, what the fuck. that's so stupid. same with tipping - why not just pay workers living wages? I will for sure be taking the time to visit the Indigenous people in the places where I'll be staying. I'm actually writing my master's thesis about the Anishinaabe and Inuit people, and even though my area of focus is canada I'm sure I'll learn a great deal from the Indigenous people of the us as well.

thank you again for talking to me (and for your patience), and I'd really love for you to come off anon, be it in my dm's or under this post. I'd love to talk more about the show in general or just cultural issues. but no pressure!

#love you noonie #ask

[damienthepious]

i kept forgetting to do these so welcome to a four chapter deluge. this is from. December i think.

The Beast In On His Chain (chapter 6)

[ch 1] [ch 2] [ch 3] [ch 4] [ch 5] [ao3] [ch 7] [ch 8] [ch 9] [???]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien, Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Sir Damien, Lord Arum, Rilla, Sir Absolon

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, prisoner/guard dynamic, Dehumanization, (which feels like a weird word to use for a nonhuman person bUT. it’s what i got.), Despair, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, (EVENTUALLY!!!! it’ll take a while), Captivity, Suicidal Thoughts, (that will be a theme throughout. inescapable in this particular fic. alas.), Eventual Romance, (Yes the dynamics in this one are fucked. honestly i’m kinda Stretching my limits these days.), (having fun with it. fucking around. it’s fine.), Recovery, (eventually), Self-Reclamation

Chapter Summary: Contemplation and conversation.

Chapter Notes: i was going to do a chapter of something else because a comment Got Me Thinking, but that's gonna need more elbow grease. For now, a little pinch more angst! Warnings for some overt suicidal thoughts, continuing dehumanization, continuing pseudo-starvation.

~

It's shockingly easy to hide the charcoal.

There's a small gap, not much larger than the width of a finger, between the back of the plinth and the stone of the wall. He imagines that it was meant to be pushed flush, stone against stone, but human architecture continually disappoints him. The charcoal fits neatly in the space and so long as he is careful, it won't fall all the way to the floor. He could likely retrieve it anyway, even if it did so, the tip of his tail is narrow enough these days to slip into the gap, but he would need to flick it out to one side or the other if so, and chances are that he might lose it then to either the clutter of the room, or if the noise drew the attention of the guard.

Of course-

No one really looks at him, anymore, so the chances are fairly slim that one of the knights might pay him any mind even if he did make a strange clattering noise. No one fears that the lizard might escape.

The smallest of blessings. And, as well, a seeming admonishment from the Universe. If he only tried harder, tried more often- if he still had the energy-

(Perhaps then he could manage to get himself killed.)

(Perhaps then the Keep might finally be free again.)

He isn't even certain why, precisely, the charcoal appeals to him. The smallest wedge against the monotony, perhaps. Perhaps some part of his mind is foolish enough to think that he could find a way to do damage with so small an implement. He wonders where, within his arms-length world, he might be able to get away with scribbling anything without it being seen. He knows this little distraction will only serve him for a short time, one way or another, but that does not mean he wishes to act foolishly and lose the privilege.

The guards (barring one) are almost shamefully predictable in their patrols. Arum keeps their pace in his mind, an almost musical repetition of footsteps approaching, retreating, as the little creature walks his circuit. When the footsteps begin to retreat, when he has the most possible time without the possibility of human eyes upon him, he takes the charcoal in a hand, and-

(the paper wrapping it, to keep the black from staining fingers- it still smells like her)

(or- it smells like the outside world, at the very least)

He presses the charcoal to the stone beneath him, stroking a slow, careful line. His hand wants to shake, but he grits his teeth, holding as steady as he can, tracing familiar curves, summoning memory.

A lily is a fairly simple shape. Delicate curved trumpet, trailing line for the stem. A few extra strokes for leaves. Arum needs to press the charcoal against the stone and cover the image with a palm to keep from-

Doing something. Snapping the charcoal, perhaps. He just wants. The shape of the feeling is hard to define. Some surging howling thing pulses in his chest, and makes all his muscles want to tense, want to run, want to scream.

He cannot. So he breathes instead, ragged and rough until it slows into something less painful.

He uncovers the flower. He stares at it for a long, long moment. He obscures it with his tail, tucks the charcoal back away, and goes to sleep again.

~

Another day in the Trophy Room. Damien feels his resolve waning, but-

Stay the course, do the job, and soon enough he will be free again, back to questing and protecting the citizenry and keeping pace with Sir Angelo's record.

(Damien will be free again.)

(This monster never will be.)

He shakes his head. He stays the course. He walks in his limited little circle through the limited little circle of a room, and he does not look at anything in particular for any length of time.

The head by the swamp lord's plinth is muttering again today, vague suggestions of phrases that worry at the back of Damien's mind. It drives everyone away with its thrashings and flailings. He stiffens his spine, he makes another circuit. It can only be loved out of pity. He pretends not to feel his fingers trembling.

Foolishness and foolishness again. Rilla, dearest Rilla is... distracted, yes, her eyes distant as she chews on her knuckle, thoughtful and as far from Damien as she could possibly be while they share breakfast, her nose intermittently in her journal until he departs.

He did not mention it. He wishes he had. She would have known what to say to comfort his aching, trembling heart, and now instead he walks his patrol and he tries to ignore as that wretched head murmurs and hisses his own insecurities back to him.

He worries, as well, that the monster on the plinth might be able to hear what the head torments him with, and he has no desire to allow such a creature to see into his own weaknesses. Terrible idea, that.

He glances toward the dragon when he passes, entirely without meaning to, as the head mutters again (it will never prove itself better than its cowardly instincts), and thankfully the monster does not appear to have been paying any attention to him whatsoever. It looks unconscious again, in fact.

But-

He pauses, steps faltering to a stop as he stares at the stone beneath the monster. Something- something is different. Beneath the monster's narrow tail-

Black marks.

He opens his mouth-

And closes it again.

Stay the course. It could just be a crack in the stone he hadn't noticed before. It could be an odd shadow, he can barely tell from here, with the subtly flickering dim light from the lamps.

The monster isn't even awake enough to notice his patrol coming to a halt, apparently. It would be pointless to wake him, wouldn't it? What would Damien even gain? Interrogating a monster that cannot answer without dire pain for the sake of a black scraping on some stone?

He shakes his head. He turns back to his work.

~

He does not notice the monster's slitted eyes watching him retreat, still and patient.

~

Rilla talks to the tour guide before they even go in, this time. It's the same knight as last time (she's fairly certain, though it can be hard to tell under all that armor, sometimes) and he's obviously too bored to care about her nosiness. He shrugs and reminds her not to cross the lines on the floor, and when she assures him that she won't, he leaves her to her own business, turning to lead the group through at a quicker pace.

The monster is sleeping again when she approaches, or at least he appears to be, considering the fact that as soon as she slows in front of his little dais, his eyes crack open and he pulls his head back with obvious surprise, glancing over her shoulder towards the retreating tour group before flashing her a look of muted wariness.

"You didn't actually believe that I'd be coming back," Rilla says conspiratorially, "did you?"

The monster's eyes flash, a vague hint of amusement, and after a beat he shakes his head.

"Well, there you go! I bet it's a change of pace to get a surprise around here, let alone a pleasant one." She pauses, not sure what the look on the monster's face means just then. "At least. I hope that it's a pleasant surprise for me to be back."

His expression shutters off, going very blank as he lowers his face down to rest on his arms again, but Rilla's fairly confident that she saw another flash of amusement, which is likely as close to a confirmation as she'll get.

Well. That's fine. She gets not wanting to be, like... effusive while chained to a rock. She lifts her sketchbook, though, and he perks right back up.

"You agreed, last time, and honestly I had a pretty good look at you during our last conversation. Do you wanna see what I managed? It's probably not, like, entirely accurate, but... still." She pauses drumming her fingers off the leather cover as the monster visibly considers, tipping his head back and forth and flicking his tongue (Scenting the air? Scenting her? She's glad she spent most of the morning crushing mint instead of something more odious, at least.) before he begrudgingly nods.

Looking at him now, the sketch is slightly off, of course. She's not an "artist," exactly. She just... has an eye for detail. She actually managed to draw him looking less emaciated than he is, which-

Is a little heartbreaking, maybe. She ignores that for now. The lines are pretty much perfect on the shape of his snout, his horn stumps, his eyes, though. She didn't draw the chains, for this one, so she had to guess how narrow his wrists are under there, the shape of his neck. She turns the page towards him, watching as he cranes that neck for a better look.

He blinks, then tilts his head again. He rumbles a strange noise in the back of his throat, his expression pinching oddly, and then- he drops his eyes. He nods vaguely; Rilla isn't sure if it's an acknowledgment of accuracy or just acknowledgment in general, or something else entirely. She wishes he could just-

Moment of vivid imagination: tearing the collar apart with her bare hands.

"I'll take that as a, very nice job, thank you for showing me," she says, as chipper as she can manage, and the monster snorts, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. "This is a different sketchbook, by the way," she adds, and that look in his eye from last time - that hunger - sparks again. "I've been doing some studies lately, mostly just for practice. Should I..?"

She waggles her fingers against the edges of the paper, and the monster meets her eye for a moment, frowning. He huffs, looks to her hands, the book, again, and then he growls lightly even as he gives a single decisive nod.

And. Okay.

So, maybe she'd been thinking of the monster when she took this particular sketchbook around, this week. Maybe she'd been thinking of the particular pages he seemed to respond to on her first visit.

Maybe she'd gone and found some particularly nice landscapes to draw. Maybe she'd picked some of her favorite plants in the garden to depict. Maybe she'd staked out a birdfeeder or two to find some particularly striking subjects.

He needs the boost, she thinks. He drinks in the images like he's starving in more ways than one. She makes sure to linger on the pages for as long as he needs, waiting until he shifts or makes a small noise or gives some other indication that he's ready to move on before she turns the page.

She does need to pause, for a little while, and migrate a few steps down to pretend to sketch again while the next tour group comes through, but that only takes a few minutes. She pulls a face at the retreating backs of the group when they're finished, and the monster wrinkles his snout in something that looks like suppressed laughter.

She returns to the dais when there's less chance of being observed again, lifting out the book.

The monster, however-

He tears his eyes away from the landscape (from a hill not too far from the lake, overlooking the water from a fair distance in the late evening, the Gate of Tranquility just a suggestion in the distance, between the trees) (she'd even gotten out the paints, for that one, to give a bit of color) and looks at her, instead. He fixes her with the vivid purple of his eyes, almost glowering but not quite angry so much as- purposeful? Stern? And then he-

He opens his mouth.

"Why?" he asks, the single word scraping like a heavy sack dragged over gravel, his expression equal parts tired and pained and dignified, and Rilla resists the urge to take a step back in surprise.

She... hadn't expected him to speak. She knew that he could, Damien implied as much, but...

Clearly, it hurt him to speak. He did it anyway. Which means that this question matters, to him.

She lowers the book, just a little, and she considers the best way to answer. The most honest way to answer.

"Because..." she tries, and then her mind spins off in countless directions.

Because this is wrong. Because it doesn't matter how awful this war is, there's no excuse for treating anyone like this. Because you looked at my book like you wanted to eat it last time, and you look fucking starving. Because I'm a doctor and you look sick to your soul. Because I wanted to. Because you wanted me to. Because. Because. Because.

She sighs. "Because this is wrong," she settles on, deciding that her first instincts are usually the most accurate. "And I can't do anything about it right now. This is... this is the least of it. I can't do anything real. But- but I can do this," she says, and then she turns the page, showing another drawing she went at with the paints. Her own namesake, on a whim, in a vivid orange-red.

He exhales unevenly, and then his face does something that looks like a grimace for a moment before it resolves into a darkly amused sort of smirk. He gestures to the page, and then half-laughs as he moves his hand to gesture to her, more specifically.

She blinks. "Hm?"

He raises and eyebrow, and then he repeats the motion again. The flower, herself.

And it is her namesake.

She laughs, a shocked burst of it, and then she quickly slaps a hand over her mouth and muffles the rest of her laughter so as not to draw any unwanted attention.

"Oh," she says through a smile. "This is- I sign my finished- you can read human language?" she asks, and he gives her a derisive look. "Okay, okay, fair. Yes. Yeah, Amaryllis. Good catch."

His smirk tips briefly into a grin, and then his face drifts back to blankness as he clearly considers something. She tilts her own head, but she doesn't want to... like... scare him off of whatever he's thinking about, so she doesn't interrupt or question. After a few moments, he shifts his body and looks down, and she realizes-

The way he'd been resting, he'd been covering something with one of his legs. A little sketch on the stone. In charcoal.

A lily.

She stares at it, drinking in the details and noting that it seems to have been drawn slowly, a basic shape a little more smudged beneath added detail, the veins of the leaves and the spadix spiking up from the petals carefully amended.

"A calla lily," she tries, and when the monster wrinkles his snout she tries again. "An arum?"

He exhales a strange little noise, clearly struck, and then he nods, the motion jerky and feverish, and he points again, just like before, to the drawing, and then- himself.

She looks at the flower, and then she looks up at the monster, the swamp lord, as his eyes-

Arum's violet eyes go sharp and bright with something like tears.

But Rilla doesn't get to see much more than that, before the tour guide breezes through and finally ushers her back out.

#elle's fanfic #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #the beast in on his chain #lord arum #sir damien #amaryllis of exile #aaaAA

[twenytwenytwo]

Nov 13 2022

Oof, had a rough(ish) sleep. I was rather excitedly browsing planner online last night. I actually went to Chapters to get one, but they were closed of course, so I moseyed around to Homesense and Walmart and got some substitutions. I’ll probably return them today, as last night I browsed some ritzy ones available at Chapters.

Yeah anyway. I stayed up a bit late, 10:45p was roughly when I hit the hay, but was so tired that I kinda uncomfortably bounced through the night. I had some half-asleep anxiety, not sure why. There’s probably some chattering going on in my unconscious as I pass through the 1 year mark of this challenging period. I must say though, my attitude toward it was surprisingly constructive despite the anxiety kinda being surprising in itself. I rode it out and treated it as a release, instead of a catastrophe, which is how I felt about it last year.

So yeah, a bit groggy this morning. Planners are somewhat frustrating to browse. Cheap ones at Walmart have the monthly and weekly formats in one, but are cluttered and not so nice to behold. The ones that are nicer to behold, have formatting that is sometimes odd and restrictive. Not to mention it seems to be impossible for them to clearly convey how the planner is laid out online, hence my staying up late, Youtube, google images, etc.

Today I’m gonna chill, edit vids, get a good planner, gas up for tomorrow.

As for planners, I think I’d like a smaller daily planner, that I can write to dos and such in, day by day by day, and then a monthly/weekly for scheduling.

(interupted, it’s 6:43pm now)

Hooly, I walked around like a zombie today, very sleepy. Oh well. Got a planner, after browsing the living shit out of them at Chapters. I bought a Moleskin Weekly that includes the last 6 months of 2022 so I could start right away, aaaand it was half price; $16! Not bad, looking forward to the benefits of it, or just participating in an activity like planning, ya know. What could go wrong lol.

Izzy called me a bit upset. She was hoping I’d be in better contact with her (we agreed it was okay to keep in touch), but she felt like I was really not interested in checking in with her, which made her feel kinda shitty, and thus anxious. We had a somewhat disfunctional bickerfest on the phone, nothing aggressive, which in my particularly tense zombie state of mind, really zonked me. We loosened up, went to her place cause she felt shite, I was zonked as fuck and got a bit emosh, left, got a nose bleed, left again, home, slept good. Had some anxiety though leading up to bedtime, of the zonked, head full of stars vibe, existential.

Slept good that night

[forestwater87]

About halfway through the Hazbin pilot and . . .

Of course I’m instantly and irrevocably in love with the ship that puts the optimistic, sunshiny-to-the-point-of-obnoxious do-gooder with the logical, deadpan wet blanket with violent tendencies.

I’m not sure if I’m just a simple woman, or if at this point it’s just part of my brand.

Basically I’m saying Varlie is a gayer Gwenvid. Search your heart. You know it’s true.

#hazbin hotel #TELL ME THOSE TWO IMAGES ARE NOT GWENVID IN A NUTSHELL #i initially included a pic of gwenvid for comparison but then it was too cluttered with pics compared to words #it was visually not great #also the creator called them jack and sally and I just realized that's the same fucking ship #they all come down to the same goddamn trope and I am so weak for it #also varlie is the good ship name and chaggie is cursed change my fucking mind #also idk why tumblr hates this show it's cute af #'cringe culture is canceled' you fucking hypocrites #at least i'm honest about being an asshole #'ooh the creator is a bitch' oh no whatever shall we do #it's not like all media isn't really fucking problematic if you look at it for more than 0.2 seconds #just let me have my demon girlfriend fluff

[poppy-metal]

"The first time you hear Izuku moan your name, its with you hiding on the other side of his closet door, your hand clapped over your mouth in shock.”

A/N: im placing this before the sexual side of their relationship begins. A prelude of sorts, if you will.

Cw: voyeurism, smut, dekus secretly dirty mouth.

All things considered izuku’s room was...not as gross as you expected a staple college aged guys dorm room to be. It was cluttered but not disgusting, posters of comics and figurines and manga and some clothes strewn about, everything kind of frenzied and haphazard. It was so incredibly deku, a secret smile pulled at your lips, even though your reasons for being here were less than innocent

He’s wearing fucking pink. Because of course he is, of course izuku is humble and comfortable in his masculinity enough to pull off a bright pink t-shirt. It hugs his chest too, and you have to wonder if literally any of his clothes fit him and the tits he decided to grow in college. His image is so utterly imposing, his smile so bright, and laugh so airy, it sends butterflies flipping through your stomach at just the sight of him and that makes you want to vomit. Your lips curl in a sneer and you’re walking towards him and the group of friends he’s talking to as if on reflex. 

Stupid, lovely deku. You knock your shoulder into his as you pass, hard enough that his books clatter and fall to the floor, scattering. And then those green eyes are on you, giving you his attention and your body feels alive, your blood cells buzzing under your skin even as he frowns. The dimples on his freckled face fall as he takes you in. Yes, you think, look at me, see me, want me. 

Out loud you say. “Watch where you’re going, stupid deku” and you’re looking at him like he’s the dirt under your shoe. He’s not. He’s the center of your universe. Your world tilts around his axis. “Pink isn’t your fucking color by the way”. it is. 

Izuku huffs. He’s past the point where he used to turn as red as a tomato and duck his head whenever you stood in front of him, but he’s still deku at the end of the day. An easy target. “If looking at me bothers you so much you could just ignore me.” He crouches down to pick up his things. His words make you itch, if you could ignore him, you wouldn’t fucking be here. Its because he exists too much, that you want to push him down so much. 

You step your manicured foot onto his notebook right as he’s about to grab it. He tugs at it, you dont budge, and he looks up at you, exasperated. “Can i have my notebook, please?” 

Why is he so fucking pretty? God, you want to throw up. You dig your heel in further, covering the flutter you feel in your chest with a practiced sneer. “I like the way you say please, deku.” You lean down a little, “Say ‘your highness’ and i’ll move” 

It’s a thrill, seeing the way his jaw sets, his brow furrows, his eyes go annoyed. Sweet, sweet, friendly izuku. You’re the only one he looks at like this, like he wants to throttle you. But he won’t. You see his adams apple bob, his cheeks dust pink, even as he glares. “No” 

You pause. It’s not the first time he’s gotten snippy with you, but the conviction behind it is new. You feel something in your stomach give a jump, your blood thrumming in your ears. You jerk your foot towards you, sliding his notebook out from his hands and standing completely on top of it with both your feet now. Your sticky lips, glossy and plump, spread into a mocking grin, “No? Do i need to slam you into some lockers and take you lunch money?” You feel a thousand feet tall, towering above him still kneeling, you on the high ground, looking down at him below you, where he can’t reach you. Can’t ever see the truth. “C’mon pansy, you’re already on your knees anyway” 

But he isn’t anymore. He jerks to a stand, and now he’s taller than you, but you puff your chest out, not letting that affect you. It always affects you. Not that he knows or ever notices. Your eyes are widening when he steps forward so you’re practically nose to nose and chest to chest. “I don’t have time for you” he snaps, irritated. And then he’s stepping away as suddenly as he stepped up, the rest of his things gathered in his arms, he shakes his head at you, a tendril of that mossy mousey hair falling into his eyes. “I gotta get to class” 

And then he’s gone, brushing by you, disengaging. You stand there, your breath stuck in your chest, not moving. ‘I dont have time for you’ over and over again rings through your head like a mantra. You step off his notebook robotically and kick it across the floor. It bangs against a wall and you feel your fists clench, nail beds digging into your palms harshly. ‘I dont have time for you’ 

You turn on your heel, away from the direction of your class, fury blinding you. Anger in place of humiliation, vindication in place of being humbled. You don’t know what crawled up his ass and made him think he was above you all the sudden, but you weren’t having it, not the fuck at all. 

And that’s how you found yourself snooping through izukus dorm, with the intention of finding some kind of dirt, or something to hold over his stupid head. He didn’t have time for you? How dare he act like he was better than you, like he had things more important to do than to indulge you. You were still so mad you wanted to throw a tantrum, kick and scream and claw his eyes out. Straddle his stupid broad waist and shake him until all he saw was you, you, you. 

You really hated him. Hated that because of him you were basically a bully because any attention from him was attention you thrived and lived under. Maybe if you weren’t so prideful, so disgusted by the weakness of your own gooey emotions for him, you would have tried to be the center of his attention in a nicer way, but as it was you were in too deep. This was the sick game you played, and losing wasn’t an option. 

You hated how much that made you similar to bakugou in a way. You didn’t like that guy, and even weirdly so, you wanted to gouge his fucking eyes out for the way he treated and talked to izuku. Was it jealousy or possesivness that drove you to want to be the only one who could rile izuku? You wondered, sometimes, if bakugou felt the same way about you. 

It was the loss of control, for you. Better yet, it was the way you liked the loss of that control. You had always prided yourself on being strong willed and a perfectionist. But whenever your eyes so much as grazed izukus, all your emotions went rattling around your stomach in sick twisted ways, giving you goosebumps, making you...nervous. It was a crush that had turned into an obsession, wasn’t it? And you wanted to make izuku suffer not only for invoking those messy feelings, but for not seeming to return them as well. If he couldn’t love you or want you romantically or sexually, you’d force yourself onto his radar and into his head until thinking about anyone else was impossible. Until you squirmed under his skin as much as he squirmed under yours. 

Acting like you didnt exist was unacceptable. Obviously you’d slacked off on your taunts and actions, if he could just brush past you so easily, not taking your bait. You needed to even the playing field again, and by even you meant you needed to be towering above him again. 

Towering over him so you dont have the time to think about how much you want to be under him, your mind whispers at you as you pick through his room, trying to find anything incripting. Someone like izuku would probably have something utterly embarrassing like a diary or some weird porn magazines, shameless, helpless guy that he was. 

You huff as you open his drawer next to his bedside, nearly slamming it back shut in shock at what you see there. 

You’re not stupid. You’re a healthy, young woman with an active sexual imagination and access to the world wide web, to porn. 

Izuku has a fleshlight in his drawer. Izuku has a sexytoy. Izuku. And its green. 

Izuku has a sex toy that he probably uses. That he probably sticks his cock into and moves- 

An absurd laugh barks out of you, shocked and helpless. Because while in your head you knew izuku had to be some kind pervert, what other explanation was there for the way he blushed and darted his gaze around like a ping pong ball whenever you leaned forward and get caught a glimpse under your blouse, this is...unexpected. Imagining izuku in explicit scenarios, doing lewd things, it was something you didn’t allow your mind to wonder to often over. You didn’t like the way you got all squirmy and meek whenever you thought too long about izuku without clothes. 

You feel kind of squirmy now, hot and uncomfortable as you shift around and try to gather your wits back about you. Revenge, that’s what you’re here for. 

With a shaky exhale you turn away from his dresser, your thoughts flitting around your head like annoying gnats. What, who, does he think about when he…? What does he look like? What does his...c- You shake your head, slap your cheeks, trying to center yourself from the images floating around, flustering you and distracting you. 

You’re in the middle of lifting the covers on his bed to peek under it, see if there’s anything there, when you hear the handle on his door jiggle. You freeze, every muscle in your body locked frozen like a deer in headlights as the knob twists, and then catches. Right. You’d picked the lock with one of your hair clips and then made sure to lock it again behind you just in case something like this happened. And by the, “Ugh” on the other side of the door, yep that’s definitely izuku. You’re shoved out of your shocked state, and bolting for his closet door as you hear the jingle of his keys twist in the lock, trying your best to close the door as quietly as possible behind you, it swishing shut barely a second before the door to his dorm opens and you hear him step in. 

Class must have let out early or something, you think huffily, gently rearranging yourself into a comfortable position on a pile of his clothes as he shuffles around his room. You hear the thumb of him dropping his books, the shuffle of his feet, the clutter of him taking off his shoes and the squeak of his mattress as he plops down on it. 

You tuck your knees to your chest and roll your eyes, picking at your leggings as you wonder how long you’ll have to hide before he goes to the bathroom or something so you can leave. It’s fucking stuffy in his closet already, the air hot. Your hand touches the soft fabric beneath you, realizing you’re sitting on one of his hoodies. Its too dark to see which one it is, but you imagine it as your favorite red one. Maybe you’d steal it as compensation for him making you sit and wait in his dumb closet while he probably stared at the ceiling with no thoughts in his dumb brain.

You hear him sigh, loud and dramatic, and then a muffled scream/groan into his pillow. Your lips twitch, he’s such a fucking drama queen. 

Your little smile drops off your face when you hear the sound of his drawer opening.  

Oh god. Oh no. 

Your face feels like there are embers burning under it as you hear the unmistakable sound of clothes being shucked, a zipper and and then flop, and then….a slick wet sound and a sigh of relief. 

Your eyes feel like they are bugging out of your head. Izuku is really about to fuck his fleshlight with you hiding in his closet with him none the wiser. You feel suddenly embarrassed and hot all over, hiding your face in your knees as you hear him let out a moan. A loud one. 

You’re on fire, every part of you. You don’t think you can take this, don’t think you can sit through this and listen to this, think you should just burst out of his closet and use your bravado to somehow flip the situation and make him feel humiliated for getting off in the privacy of his own room, like he’s in the wrong even though you had violated so many boundaries for even being here right now. 

You could do it too, you know. You’re good at twisting things, at powering through the complicated mess of flustered feelings izuku makes you feel and making it his fault, making him back down and cower. You could do it...you’re uncurling your legs and pushing your hands under you in the middle of getting up to do so when- 

“Fuck. ___” Your name. You freeze, for an unholy, goldy second you think you’ve been caught, that he has acquired x-ray vision and has spotted you but no. His voice isn’t surprised or upset its...breathless, airy. He moaned it. 

The first time you hear Izuku moan your name, its with you hiding on the other side of his closet door, your hand clapped over your mouth in shock.

Heat immediately shoots between your legs, your core throbbing unbidden in reflex to the sound, helpless to stop it, to have any other reaction. Your ass plops right back down. You turn slightly towards the door, pressing your side against it, your ear smooshed against the cool wood as you listen, as if drawn under a spell. 

“You’re such…” You hear izuku pant, his voice deeper and more rough then you’ve ever heard it before. “A fucking brat” 

Wet between your legs, seeping through your panties at his words, seemingly ripped out of him. God, he sounds pissed, wrecked. He cursed. You’ve never heard izuku curse before, never, even when you’d pushed him too far. Something really was different about today. 

The slick sounds are more frequent now, steady and...and sounding like real sex you’d heard from porn before. Wet, sloppy, and slapping. Your knees knock together as you lean forward even more. There’s an invisible string pulling, tugging you forward, you want to see…

“Fucking slut” He grunts, and there’s a heavy slap, your breath catching in your fucking throat as you realize that...that must be the clap of his balls hitting the back of his fleshlight everytime he thrusts into it. “Always running your fucking mouth, looking down at me, so mean, you’re so fucking mean to me…uh..” 

The sounds of sex fill the room and you can’t take it anymore, you’re burning, burning, burning, fuck the consequnces. You hesitantly and slowly turn the handle of the closet door, letting it slide open just a crack, enough for you to peek through, to get a glimpse.

His lean muscular back is the first thing you see, he’s facing directly away from his closet, thank god but oh god, that means you see..so much. The flex of his shoulder blades under his tan skin, the smattering of freckles over his shoulder, the long slender slope of his spine as it curves down his broad back, the dimbles at the bottom of his spine, flexing as he fucks his toy. His ass, because of course izuku would have a perfect round bubble butt. There are freckles there too. 

Your eyes skate down, hungry to his large and heavy balls, low hanging and full, currently smacked right up against the base of the little pocket pussy he’s practically straddling on his bed. 

It hits you again than, that deku is imagining that toy is you, he’s imagining fucking you in this position on his bed right now, imagining its your cunt hes pounding into, and your face he’s spitting those filthy words at. 

Your hand is really moving without your permission when it slips under the band of your leggings into your panties, fingers immediately dipping between the slick folds of your pussy, silky and wet. 

“-Wet” Izuku grunts, as you dip a finger just barely inside. “Fuck, i knew you’d be so fucking soft and good inside. Such a bratty girl would have a sweet cunt attached to her, huh?” 

Fuck, where and when did izuku start speaking like this? His soft voice curling around such crude words is making you gush all over your fingers. You wish you could see the kind of face he was making when he said them. 

“Yeah, you like taking my cock don’t you, baby?” He croons and if you close your eyes you can almost imagine he’s speaking directly into your ear, behind you. His thrusts get heavier, rougher, he lifts his leg up on the bed and you see a flash of the little green toy being fucked on his cock, big and angry looking. He’s being so brutal, hammering the thing down on his dick as he hips rut to meet every downward tug. “Milk it. Milk my fucking cock you whore. Wanna- fuck, wanna hear you say my name when you cum, want you to know who’s pouding that little pussy. The loser you fucking hate, yeah? Gonna cum for me?”

Yes, you whimper in your head in answer to him, your fingers curling deep, deep, inside, fucking yourself on them in earnest. He’s so big and you only caught a glimpse, but it was enough. Enough to know he’d fucking cleave you apart if he tried to fit that monster between his legs inside your tight little pussy. But you want it, god you fucking want it. You wanna feel him splitting you open, making you cream around him, making you beg for it. Making you bleed. 

“One of these day” he says, his voice breathless but steady, even as it cracks. You know he’s close. “I’m gonna fucking snap. Im going to make you look me in the fucking eye and apologize for making me want you, and then im going to split that pussy open- fuck, im coming, fuck, fuck, fuck. Do you understand, b-bitch? Gonna fucking make you mine, yeah, take it, take your senpais cock you dirty fucking girl, ah!” 

He slumps forward, hips humping into the toy and balls spasming as he pumps it full of his cum, shuddering deeply with little aborted whimpers. “Good girl, good girl” he pants, trailing off, giving one last little jerk of his hips before stilling. 

You bite your lip so hard you draw blood to stop yourself from whimpering out loud. You pull your sticky fingers out of your cunt and shuffle back into the dark of the closet, curling in on yourself as izuku lays there, panting heavily for a few moments before moving. 

You stay stock still as you hear him get up and shuffle around, his footsteps padding into the bathroom where you hear the door click softly shut. You spring up to your feet and don’t care if you make noise as you dart out of his room and into the hallway, sprinting like a bat out of hell as you make you way to the girls dorms.

You’ll think about how to reevaluate and recoup later. Right now you just really need to get to your bed so you can rut pathetically onto your own fingers and imagine izukus fat dick breaking you open. Never in a million years did you think he had those kinds of feelings for you, and you know it changes the whole game, is a whole other level of playing field where you now know he wants you on a physical level. 

You feel powerless and lie you’re slipping again, don’t know how you’re going to point your finger at him and laugh when you know for every insult you throw his way, is another way hes fucking his toy at night, adding it as another thing to get you back for. If he ever snaps. 

If. you want it to be a when, so bad, not an if. 

You’ll make it a when. You’ll push him off the metaphorical cliff he’s teetering on to make it so. 

. 

#poppy speaks #my writing #deku smut #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya smut #bully!reader #izuku smut #midoriya izuku smut