Tumgik
#I want to read it so bad but my brain physically will not fucking let me
willowfey · 5 months
Text
genuine question does anyone have any tips on how to manage prolonged constant extreme anxiety? like the kind where u have to always stay distracted bc any second alone with ur thoughts will send u into a nauseous pit. the kind that makes it so u never get a restful sleep and u never have an appetite and ur hands are always shaking and ur muscles are painfully tense. anyone know uh…… what i can do about that
(i don’t have insurance atm and my medical anxiety is far too high to get anything prescribed atm so i need things that i can do on my own other than breathing and i’m sick of reading articles)
#it feels like it did when my mom was sick and i couldn’t think about anything else for months#except my mom ISN’T sick anymore. so there’s no one reason i can point to#it’s just always there. my stomach hurts my jaw hurts my body hurts#i can do things to stay distracted but when the night rolls back around i feel like i’m trapped in a haunted house#i’m just so tired i wanna cry about it. i want to relax so bad. i want to feel okay and safe and rested SO FUCKING BAD#i didn’t used to be like this i hatehatehate it i don’t wanna be like this or feel like this anymore#not to mention my sister has such high anxiety rn too that even if i’m distracting my own brain she can pull me back into it with hers#how do i exist without being endlessly terrified of everything that could happen to anyone at any time?#without the constant painful awareness of every tick of every second passing by?#im like this close to a meltdown at all times. i’d rather be apathetic than this it’s breaking my bones#i’m physically safe in that i want to remind anyone reading this that i have never been yk. suicidal or anything it’s not like that at all.#i want to be here i’m just SCARED sgajshsnd i’m just shaky and tired and tense and aaaaaaaaa#i need help. idek what that means i just need someone else to tell me it’s gonna be okay#(@ the friends that DO tell me that every day. i love u so much i appreciate u so much. i wish my body would remember it)#i put my feet in grass today and touched a tree and made tea and cleaned the house and it helped a little. it did.#but i just feel like everything takes this constant conscious effort and it’s soooo tiringgggggg i just want to rest#i want to let someone else control my brain for a while#sigh#okay i’m done i just needed to scream about it for a moment#there are places to go and things to paint and songs to listen to#i will keep going. even scared. i just wish i were less scared.
1 note · View note
shizucheese · 22 days
Text
Hey guys, we need to talk. Because a certain little something in TMAGP 8 is causing what is genuinely the most toxic part of the Magpod fandom at large to once again rear its ugly head. So let's talk about podcast character appearance head canons, shall we?
I'm tagging this with the Magnus Archives, TMA and Magpod tags because I am absolutely calling all of you out, but if you don't want spoilers for The Magnus Protocol episode 8 then stop reading right now.
.
.
. Okay, so, Gerry exists in the TMAGP universe. He's happy (or at least acts cheerful). And some people have headcanoned this to mean that he is no longer goth, or at the very least isn't dying his hair black with bad box color. And other people have decided to get seriously agro over this. I have literally seen with my very own eyeballs someone call "un-gothing" Gerry a "hate crime" and calling the person they were talking to "gothphobic."
Let me make this absolutely clear for all of you: podcasts are a purely audio medium and unless a physical trait of theirs is explicitely stated, everyone's headcanon for how a character appears is valid. Goth TMAGP Gerry is valid. But also
Rainbow Goth TMAGP Gerry is valid. Pastel Goth TMAGP Gerry is valid.
Not Goth At All TMAGP Gerry is valid.
Bald Gerry who has actually gotten his brain cancer diagnosed in time and is getting treated for it is valid. Somebody's headcanon of a character that has no canonical description to them, or whose headcanon matches the few crumbs of canonical description we have but otherwise doesn't look the way you imagine them to, is not going to take away from your own headcanon of what a character looks like. If someone imagining or drawing a character looking a different way from how you imagine them looking somehow takes away from your enjoyment of the fandom or otherwise makes you feel like you need to barge in and tell them that they're Wrong and need to conform to your headcanon or else, that is a reflection on you, not them.
And this problem way predates TMAGP, let alone TMAGP 8. The only description we have of John is that he is in his early 30's and has prematurely greying hair.
If someone thinks he looks like the pastiest motherfucker to ever dwell in a basement, an extra-in-the-Adam's Family or Tim Burtan protagonist of a man, let them.
What's that? You want to tell them that John is BROWN and if they don't headcanon him looking that way they're WRONG and RACIST? Back away from the keyboard and go outside.
(Ironically, as someone who started getting grey hairs in my hair in my 20's myself, I'm pretty sure everyone's headcanon of John, with tiny little whisps of grey in his hair, is wrong, because if he was so grey that people were surprised to learn he was "a child of the 90's," he was probably full on salt-and-pepper when he was in his 20's.)
The only description we have for Martin is that he (man who canonically has the self esteem of a used doormat) describes himself as "not the smallest guy", Not-Sasha called him "roomy", Melanie is skinner than him, and Jonny said he imagined him as a "bigger guy" who would beat Alex in a physical fight. If someone decides to take this information and conclude that it means he's tall, broad and has muscle, rather than that he's overweight, fucking let them. If your first instinct to this is to run to your keyboard and call them "fatphobic" or otherwise bash them for it, I once again urge you to back away from your keyboard and go outside.
Someone headcanons Basira not wearing a headscarf? We have exactly 0 canonical physical description of her and the people who headcanon her as having one are basing that purely off of her name alone. Fucking let them. Someone headcanons Melanie and/ or Georgie as a skin color you don't agree with or a hairstyle you don't like? Fucking let them. As long as someone's headcanon of a character's description doesn't contradict the few canonical descriptions we have of a character, why do you care? Them having a different headcanon from you doesn't take away your right to imagine the characters looking however you like, anymore than it should take away their right to do the same. Someone headcanoning John as white (or Black, or Asian, or Mixed, or whatever) isn't going to make all of the fanart of John as brown with long hair suddenly disappear, nor the fanfiction describing him as such (although I do often wonder if the opposite is not true; is the fact that John looks the same in so much of the fanart I see on here really because of fandom "consensus", or is it because people are absolutely awful to anyone who draws him Different?). Someone headcanoning Martin as not fat isn't going to make the mountains of fanart of him as a fluffy little marshmallow vanish into the void (although I do remember hearing about someone getting bullied off the internet for daring to draw Martin as not fat). And someone headcanoning Gerry in TMAGP as not being goth isn't going to take away your preciouse goth TMAGP Gerry headcanon. That should be part of the fun of it, shouldn't it? Seeing what different images people have conjured in their heads of these characters we only get to experience with our ears, and celebrating the differences as well as the similarities? Why are we bullying people into conforming to one appearance of a character when no actual canonical appearance of them exists?
1K notes · View notes
endlessthxxghts · 4 months
Text
Need You
Husband!Frankie Morales x wife!afab!reader || W/C: ≈5k
Tumblr media
Summary: Tío Santi comes to the rescue when Frankie confides in him about how the two of you have been way too busy for one another.
W/C: ≈5.0k
Warnings: Crazy events of Triple Frontier don't happen; let's just give these guys some happiness. Instead of coke, Frankie’s drug is you (LMAOOO). No “y/n.” No physical descriptions of reader (besides clothing choices), she looks like you😏 and big strong man Frankie can carry you <333. Reader knows a bit of Spanish. SMUT 18+ MDNI. Oral sex (f receiving). Unprotected P in V sex. Slow and sloppy😵‍💫. Breeding kink. Domestic kink (they get really spurred on calling each other husband and wife/esposo y esposa). Possessive kink. Daddy kink (but in the sense that reader just loves seeing Frankie as a Dad and wants to give more babies to parent!!!). Pussy slapping... Cum play/eating. Vaginal fingering/fucking. Squirting. Slight Dom!Frankie (he just really wants to hear his wife beg for his cum!!). Mentions of shower ✨activities✨. A lot of love basically — physically and emotionally. Extra warning for the parents who can’t leave their child with other people — Tío Santi takes their baby out to eat and get treats; she’s in good hands, I promise!!!
A/N: Husband Frankie is rotting my brain bad. Especially girl dad!Frankie. My ovaries are screaming. So here's this little 5k bad boy I whipped up. This is very much a porn with a bit of (yummy domestic) plot. Hope y’all enjoy. Thank you to my sweet sweet bae @javierpena-inatacvest for proof-reading this and hyping me up since it’s my first Frankie story to be posted! I love you so much 🥹🥹💚
MASTERLIST
Tumblr media
“Querida, I’m home!” Frankie called out. 
“In Isa’s room, baby!” you responded. 
Santi tagged along on his treck home today, offering to take Isa out for lunch and sweets after Frankie told him how both of you have been crazy busy lately. He helps himself to the kitchen while Frankie makes his way to you.
Frankie lightly knocks on the door before entering, gasping out in delight to earn a bubbly reaction from his three year old daughter. “Ay, mi esposa (my wife),” he exclaims, giving you a soft kiss to your lips. He looks to his daughter and grabs her from you, “y mi amorcito (and my little love),” he says, throwing her up in the air, coaxing a few more giggles out of her. 
He sets her back down to play with her toys, and Frankie turns to you, pulling you in for a proper hello. Your lips slot against each other in a needy embrace, still as reserved as you two can be with your child in the room. He pulls away first, arms not leaving your waist. “Hi, mama,” he says with an adoring smile. “Hi, honey,” you respond, heart still skipping a few beats as if it’s your first time meeting him. He guides you to outside the doorway, closing Isa’s room ajar, so you both are out of her view.
“Santi’s here,” he tells you. “He offered to, uh, take Isa out to get food and some dessert,” he adds nonchalantly, trying to gauge your reaction. It’s been three years since your baby was born, and still you’re always reluctant to leave her with others. It’s not that you don’t trust the people you leave her with, it’s the fact that if anything were to happen — Gods forbid — you wouldn’t be able to be there, to comfort and protect her. 
Your eyebrow raises in response. He squeezes you tighter into him, ducking closer to your ear. “And I was thinking,” he kisses the sweet spot near your pulse point, “we could take some time for ourselves?” He continues kissing and nipping at your neck, uttering a small please baby as he makes his way back to your lips. 
Little did Frankie know, you didn’t need any convincing at all. You were just about ready to drop her off at your parents as soon as he got home from work today. You don’t tell him though. You like hearing him be a little desperate for you. 
His hand skates lower to your ass, the other hand making its way to cup your front. “It’s been weeks, baby, I need to taste her,” he says, damn near a whine. 
You grab both sides of his face and pull him into a searing kiss. “Go pack her bag,” you whisper as you pull away from his grasp, making your way to Santi to give him the rundown. 
In record time, Frankie packs Isa’s go bag in under five minutes: diapers, extra change of clothes, baby wipes, baby Benadryl, and some of her comfort snacks just in case she’s extra picky today. He picks up his baby, assessing if she needs a diaper change — she’s dry — and heads to the kitchen. “Wanna hang with Tío Santi today, mi amor?”
Her face lights up, and she squeals, “yes, daddy, pleeeeaaase!” 
He chuckles, his heart warming at how much she loves his best friend, his brother. 
He and Isa enter the kitchen to you giving Santi the rundown on her allergies. 
“We exposed her to all the major allergens already and no reactions, except for peanuts — she gets a little red, so just watch out for that. There’ll be Benadryl in her pack just in case.”
Santi gives you a salute, “Sir, yes, sir.” 
You playfully roll your eyes at his antics. “One more thing,” you say as you go to kiss your baby goodbye. “Usually I’d ask if you could send pictures throughout the time you’re gone…” you look at Frankie. 
Santi smirks, knowing where this is headed. 
“But you don’t have to. At least for today,” your face remains composed, but the heat spreading across your cheeks exposes you. 
“Got it. No peanuts,” Santi says, reaching for the bag off Frankie’s shoulder and the keys from his pocket, “and no interruptions,” he winks at you both. “Let me know when you guys are ready for us to come back,” he looks to his beautiful niece in her mother’s arms, peppering her with goodbye kisses. 
“Vamanos (let’s go), mija!” Santi says, prying her out of your arms. Frankie reaches to give her one last kiss on her forehead, and they’re out the door. 
As soon as the front door clicks shut, Frankie is on you in an instant, too riled up to wait until you’re in the bedroom. He needs you badly, and he needs you now. He’s caging you in between his body and the kitchen counter, lips on you like he’ll die tonight if he doesn’t touch you. Your lungs are burning for air, yet you don’t pull away. You can’t. He’s too addicting. Too much time has passed without the pleasure you two bring one another, so you’ll sacrifice one survival need for another. 
Before you know it, his hands are at the base of your ass, lifting you to the kitchen counter, and his lips are dragging down your jaw, your neck, and into your cleavage, nipping every little exposed place your cropped tank allows him. His hands are at the waistband of your sweats, pulling them down as he brings himself to his knees. 
“Oh, fuck, baby,” he takes a deep breath in. His eyes are impossibly darker, demeanor turning animalistic as he feels just your sweats alone and no underwear. He gets a view of your already glistening pussy, and he can’t help the growl that leaves his throat. 
He settles his hands under the globe of your ass and scoots you to the edge, your thighs finding solace on his shoulders. You immediately lean back on your elbows, knowing the moment his mouth is on you, your body will go weak at his touch. 
Without any warning, his tongue licks the entirety of your leaking seam, hands automatically gripping you tighter as the taste of you hits his tongue. The sound that leaves you sends shivers down his spine, his cock painfully hard and leaking in his jeans. He licks you a few more times, letting his drool drip down his tongue and spread all over you, making you a soaking mess of your arousal and his spit. 
Once you’re drenched to his liking, he dives right in, face completely flushed against your sex, sloppily sucking and licking into you, hitting all the right buttons to make you see fucking stars. By his hands or his tongue, he still knows how to steer you in the direction of the most beautiful constellations, even if they are behind your eyelids. 
“Frankie, fuck-!” you yell out, your inhibitions automatically down with the fact that the house is left to the two of you. Frankie’s hips involuntarily buck into nothing at your moans, missing the sounds you always made for him. Ever since Isa was born, both of you made a conscious effort to work on your noise levels — especially you. You were the most vocal he’s ever been with, and fuck if it didn’t make him all the more whipped. He almost forgot what your sounds do to him. Almost. But now that you’ve given him a taste again after so long, he needs more. 
He circles your clit a few times and sucks it, hard. He pulls off with a lewd pop, his dominant hand leaving your ass and making its way to your entrance. You’re such a fucking mess that his two fingers slide right in, giving you the extra push Frankie needed to pull more heavenly moans and whimpers out of you. “Let me hear you, mama,” he says, tongue circling your clit as his fingers work you to the edge. “Sing for me, baby,” and with what little strength you have, you force your head forward to watch his ministrations, and the sight is what sends you falling first. Frankie’s mouth is wrapped around the entirety of you, eyes dark and on yours, his hooked nose rubbing against all the right places while his arm muscles ripple as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. 
“Shit- oh, fuck-” you whine out, your head like a bobble head, too heavy to maintain upright. Frankie curls his fingers just right, and-
 “Oh my God, Francisco, oh my God!” Your hips are bucking into his face, his own strength unable to keep your hips down with how hard your orgasm is hitting you. He lets you ride out your wave on his face, drinking every last drop coming out of you. 
His fingers are out of you now, Frankie immediately cleaning them in his mouth, not wanting to Iet any of your sweet syrup go to waste. Your chest is heaving, eyes clamped shut, and your body is entirely limp. Frankie stands to his full height, and he’s pulling you up to sit up straight, his hands guiding your legs to wrap around his waist. He chuckles a little. “Still with me?” 
Your torso loses its strength momentarily, and you almost fall back. His arms immediately wrap around you, supporting you to maintain your upright position. You laugh at yourself, a blissed out smile gracing your face. He feels his heart flutter, just as strong as when he first met you. “Yeah, yeah, I’m here, you monster,” you lightly laugh, resting your head on him. “God, I love you,” your voice slightly muffled from burrowing yourself into his chest. 
His one hand leaves your back and wraps itself around your jaw, bringing your lips up to his. You can taste yourself on him, and you can already feel another fire being lit deep in your core, your arousal dripping onto the kitchen counter as your lips continue with his. 
You pull away, breathless, ready for more. “Take me to bed, baby.” 
“You sure you’re ready now?” He smirks. 
“Keep teasing, and I won’t let you cum inside of me, big boy.” 
His lips find yours again in a bruising manner, a growl leaves him as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. “Last I checked, you were the one begging for me to fuck my cum so deep inside you that it had no other option but to latch on. If that’s what you want again, baby, all you gotta do is ask.” 
You whimper in response, your spurt of dominance dissipating immediately. 
“That what you want, baby? Come on, tell me. I wanna hear it.” 
Your eyes are glossing over, too pent up with a fertile need to get your brain to come up with any kind of response. His grasp on your jaw tightens, his lips ghosting yours as he talks. “Tell me you want my cum, baby. Tell me you want me to fill you up so fucking full of me.” 
“Yes, baby, fuck, I need you. I need you inside of me, I need you to fill me. Please, you’re such a good daddy, I wanna give you more, please,” you ramble on. His mouth is on you again in a sloppy embrace as he picks you up and guides you two to your bedroom. 
He sets you down at the edge of the bed. He guides your shirt off, then his. He pulls back for a second and shucks his bottoms off, giving you a complete view of his tanned and toned naked body, his little tummy a little soft around the edges. Your pussy is crying at the sight. 
You don’t waste anymore time as you settle yourself to the center of your bed, your legs already falling open with muscle memory. Frankie licks his lips at the sight. Part of him just wants to go down on you again, but the way his cock is screaming at him for release and your pussy is clenching on nothing—yeah, his oral fixation can wait. 
He settles himself in between your legs. His hands are grounded into the pillow beside your head as your legs automatically hook around his waist. He rubs his length across your wetness, you mewl for him as he lets his tip drag across your clit. 
“Baby, please,” you whine. 
“I’ve got you, baby.” 
His tip breaches your entrance. God, you’ve missed him so much, and you tell him exactly that. 
His lips are on yours, never really satiated with the amount of kisses he takes from you, “I fuckin’ missed you so much.” He pushes deeper in. “God, my beautiful wife, I love you so much,” he breathes out as his lips graze your temple. 
His hips are flushed with yours, your hands secure themselves around his neck. “Please, baby, let’s never go this long again, I need you so bad,” he rasps. He’s pulling out again, his head kissing your core. “Need you always,” he says as he pushes back in, maintaining a slow but hard rhythm.
You pull him impossibly closer into you, your hands grasping and feeling him anywhere you can reach. You rock your hips to meet every push and pull of his own, lips ghosting each other with each movement, your eyes threatening to roll back at how entirely full you feel. 
He’s taking his fucking time with you tonight, fucking you slowly into the mattress, harder with each thrust, reveling in sound of your pussy each time he pushes in, and he can’t help the way he smiles into the sloppy kisses and shared breaths. 
You’re a complete mess, tears falling from your eyes at how addicting he feels mixed with the pure love you have for this man. You really don’t even register what you’re babbling about, but that doesn’t matter. Frankie’s in heaven listening to a mixture of your drawn out moans, the occasional Lord’s name in vain, and the repeated I love you, baby, I love you so much.
One of his hands drag down to your clit, rubbing clumsy yet perfect circles, forcing your dam to finally break. He’s completely soaked in you and so are your thighs and the bedsheets. Your fall is slow but all-consuming. Your back arches into him, your nipples rubbing deliciously against his chest, and the feeling is the final push that sends him painting your walls white. 
His hand leaves your swollen clit and wraps itself around your lower back, helping you maintain your arch form as he continues rocking himself into you well into his softened state. He can feel your body start to tense out of overstimulation, so he finally pulls out of you, leaving you a leaking mess of both your and his cum. He sits back on his hunches, his fingers drawing circles on your inner thighs, just admiring the sight until his cock begins to stir again. 
“Jesus, Morales,” you giggle breathily as you clocked the jump of his length.
He leans over you again, giving you a sweet, lengthy kiss as he begins to slide himself off the bed. “What can I say, baby? I’m insatiable with you,” he gives you a mischievous smirk. 
He heads to the kitchen, returning to the bedroom with a chilled glass of water for you. “Drink up,” he says.
Before he makes it to the en suite bathroom, he adds, “I’m not done with you yet, mama.”
Despite the sensitivity down there, your pussy flutters at his words, craving him down there in any way shape or form.
He returns with a warm cloth, cleaning you up as best as he can with your second round of slick and his endless load of cum pouring from you. He sets the cloth down somewhere on the floor and situates himself up against the headboard. He wordlessly guides you to lay between his legs, your chest resting against his. 
“Wanna check on Isa?” Frankie asks, albeit a little shy. You smirk a little, knowing you’re usually the one to cave first. You make grabby hands at your phone on the nightstand, nudging Frankie to grab it since his wingspan is much larger than yours. He hands it to you, and you immediately dial Santi, hitting the speaker button as it rings.
“Hey, Santi.” 
“Hey, Mrs. Fish,” you can hear him laugh at his name for you. Frankie also gives a little laugh. He thought it was the funniest thing he’s ever said during your guys’ wedding reception. He calls you that more than your own name now. 
“How’s it going?” you try to ask in an unconcerned fashion. Santi knows you both all too well to know that isn’t the case. 
“You know you two didn’t have to quit just to check on her, right? Tío Santi knows how to distract! Also, tío Santi knows how to put her down for a nap!” He says proudly.
“I believe you, Santi, don’t worry. Just checking. Frankie just kept bugging-” 
Before you could continue your sentence, Frankie’s hands immediately go to your sides, hitting all your ticklish spots. You scream out, a loud stream of giggles leaving you. 
“Coño, por favor, not while I’m on the phone!” You hear Santi say. “Sorry, Sorry,” you say, still out of breath from Frankie’s merciless attack. 
“Actually, Santi, can I ask another favor?” 
Frankie looks at you confused. You smirk at him. “Is tío Santi prepared for his first sleepover?” His confusion fades and immediately his eyes are consumed with pure lust, his soft brown eyes turning black. 
Santi is silent for a moment. “You two are downright feral, you know that, right?”
You stifle a laugh. “Ay Dios mío (oh my God),” Frankie mutters. 
“As long as I get another niece — or nephew, I really have no preference — in nine months time…” Santi trails off in thought. “Then I’d dedicate every damn weekend to her,” he says. 
You turn your head around and up to meet Frankie’s eyes, both of you in shock at Santi’s silent invitation, silence fills the air for a moment before you finally bring yourself to speak. 
“Oh? Alright, then,” you softly say. “Thank you, Santi, you’re the best. We’ll text you, okay? Bye,” you hang up, not giving Santi any chances to return the call-ending formalities. You and Frankie are still looking at each other, eyes wild at the proposition before you. 
“Every weekend, huh?” Frankie says, breaking the tension first. His head dips down to place a kiss where your neck and shoulder meet. 
You suck in a breath, arousal forming faster than a strike of lightning. “Mhm,” you barely get out. His hands are roaming your body now, your phone thrown haphazardly somewhere in the room, long forgotten. He places his hands on the insides of your thighs, spreading you open and keeping them atop his own legs, so he can hold you open. His one hand is spread largely over your lower belly while his other hand is already teasing your core. 
His finger circles directly on your clit, you yelp in response, your body twitching. “Every weekend, I’m gonna get to fuck my wife, huh?” Frankie says into your ear. “Gonna fill her full of me?” Your hips buck at the huskiness of his voice, of his possessiveness over you. Your response is incoherent, more of a moan than anything. Next thing you know, your room reverberates with the noise of a wet slap. 
He spanked your pussy. The sound that escapes your throat is beyond arousing, Frankie’s cock back to life, dripping on your lower back. “Answer me properly, baby,” he says again, softly. His fingers are circling your clit again, forcing more of your wetness out of you, his cum from earlier still seeking its place on your bedsheets.
“Mmm, fuck-” you breathe, “Yes, yes, every weekend, baby,” you’re nodding your head frantically as you try to keep your eyes trained on his actions down below. “Every weekend you’re gonna make me so full,” you whimper, “Gonna fuck a baby into me, daddy, I need you so bad.”
He slides two of his fingers into you at your words, his hips grind into your back at the feel of your warmth, of his spend keeping you nice and wet. His fingers pump in and out of you at a languid pace, his fingers arching in a come-here motion to beckon more of his cum onto his fingers. He pulls out of you momentarily, analyzing the mess he’s made. “Open, querida,” he whispers, likely in a trance at the sight. 
You open your mouth, tongue out and ready. He sticks his fingers into your mouth, and you lap up his salty spend greedily, as if it were the sweetest of syrups. You taste a distinct tanginess on his fingers, most likely the product of your own arousal. Your eyes fall shut at your taste, eyes feeling heavy and too blissed out to stay open. He pulls out of your mouth with a pop and grabs your chin, turning your face to his. He pulls you in for an open-mouthed kiss, wet and hot. His hand leaves your face and returns to your core. His fingers are back inside you, pushing in and out as his palm grinds perfectly into your clit. Your hips are moving in tandem, providing you with the perfect rhythm to soak him all over again. His lips never break from your own, tongues dancing in a way only you two get to know. 
Your hand seeks purchase at the back of his neck, tugging at the base of his curls, taking away his opportunity to break away from you. He moans into your mouth at the sharp sensation, your lower back a sticky mess from how much he’s leaking onto you. 
Finally, you break away, lips still connected by the thinnest of spit lines. “Baby, I- I’m gonna cum, shit-”
Frankie lets out a growl, desperate to have you fall apart on him. He maintains his same pace, adding a bit more pressure of his palm to your clit, his other hand pushing harder down into your belly, knowing how crazy the stimulation drives you. “Give it to me,” he mumbles in your ear, his heavy breathing fanning across your cheek. “Need it, baby. Need you,” he whines. 
“Fuck-!” you yell out, head pushing harder into his shoulder, eyes clamping shut and forming white, blinding fireworks beneath your eyelids. He fucks his fingers in you as you ride out your high, tears letting loose as your pussy squirts into his hand and all over both your bottom halves. 
The sight transforms him into a cumming mess, the only stimulation being the friction from your backside as he rutted into you. You don’t notice the warm wetness between your bodies until your body falls completely limp against him, breathing still heavy but slowly returning to normal. Frankie bejewels your face with sweet kisses — from your temples to the edge of your shoulder that he can reach — as you slowly come back to Earth. 
You look up at him now, a soft smile spread across your face. His heart stutters at the sight. You shift your back a little. “Did you…?”
“Yes, I did,” Frankie admits way too quickly, embarrassment flooding his face. 
You pull him into one more kiss before you start to get up. “Come on. Shower and then we eat,” you tell him. “You didn’t get to settle yourself down after work,” you add, slightly scolding him for his impatience yet also silently thanking him. 
“I can always eat in the shower,” Frankie adds suggestively, his eyes giving your body a once over as you stand beside the bed, waiting for him to get a move on. 
“Morales!” you gasp out. “Bad,” you say, shaking your head from side to side. 
“You know it’s gonna happen, mi amor (my love),” he says as he stands, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you into him, seeking your warmth. 
And it does happen. He makes you fall apart on his tongue twice, and you pay him back by reducing him down to jelly legs as you fuck his cum down your throat. By the time you two actually start your shower, the water is completely cold, not one drop of hot water available. 
Post-shower, you two cook a fast, simple meal, too eager to be on each other again, but too aware of how important it is to give your body sustenance in order to continue with your feral behavior. You only get a few hours of sleep that night. Falling asleep after each round only to wake back up a horny, dripping mess just to fuck again. You don’t remember the last time you two did something like this, but damn were you two needing it. You made a mental note to thank Santi for his much needed offer.
Tumblr media
The next morning you wake up at seven, the first sensation you feel for the day is your sore pussy, red and puffy as she begs you to give her a break. You look at the knocked out man beside you, give him a kiss on the forehead and break away from his hold, bringing yourself to the bathroom. You take your phone with you. 
[07:13] Just woke up. Drop Isabela off whenever you’re ready. 
[07:15] God, no wonder she’s up already. She’s got your early ass schedule. 
You laugh to yourself, picturing Santi a half asleep man child as your daughter crawls all over him, forcing him to get up, too. What Santi didn’t know was that it was actually Isa’s schedule that you were on. 
[07:16] Pobrecito (poor thing). :( 
[07:16] She’ll probably be asking for Frankie soon. She always cuddles him in the morning. 
[07:17] Yep, she just did. I’ll feed her some breakfast now, then we’ll be on our way. That good, Mrs. Fish?
[07:18] If it’s good with little Fish, then it’s good with me. 
He sends you a thumbs up, and you set your phone down. You wash up and get ready for the day. 
After you brush your teeth and wash your face, you head to Frankie’s side of the closet and grab one of his soft, cotton tees to throw on. 
You head to the kitchen, your first course of action being to fire up the espresso machine. Espresso is the only form of coffee you drink, and soon enough, Frankie followed in your footsteps. Just as you suspected, as soon as the smell of the beans filled the air, Frankie appeared in the kitchen. His sleepy eyes and sexed out hair on display nearly cause your knees to buckle, your aching pussy betraying your want for a lazy morning. 
He makes his way to you and kisses you, soft and slow, probably needing a lazy morning just as much as you. “Good morning, mi esposa (my wife),” he says, voice still raspy from sleep. 
“Mmm, good morning, mi esposo (my husband),” you smile up at him. “Sleep well?”
“With the sleep that I did get, I’d say yeah,” he says. “You really tired me out, hermosa (beautiful),” he adds.
You pull him down for another kiss. You’ll never tire of the feeling. “Waffles?”
His eyes light up, a boyish grin on his face. “Yes, please.”
Around 8:30 as you and Frankie finish your waffles, the front door is unlocking. A little girl with crazy hair comes busting in, running straight for the both of you to pull you guys into a tight group hug. 
“Mommy! Daddy!” she screams.
“Mi amorcito,” Frankie responds, matching her energy. “Mi niña loca (my crazy girl),” you squeal. “I missed you so much!” you add. 
You and Frankie kiss each of her cheeks, sandwiching her little face. 
“Did you have fun with tío Santi?” you ask.
“So much fun, mommy! We had ice cream for break-”
Before she could finish, Santi chimes in. “O-o-okayyyyy, Isa!” he claps his hand once. “Why don’t you bring this to your room,” he hands her a tiny gift bag — probably the product of some shopping they did — “while I talk to mommy and daddy?”
“Okay, tío Santi!” She takes the bag and makes her way to her room. 
Your eyebrows are raised in mock scolding as you wait for Santi to explain himself. “Hey! In my defense, those puppy dog eyes are a killer. I couldn’t say no.”
The three of you break out into laughter, Frankie going in for a hug, clapping Santi on the back as he releases him. 
“Waffles?” you offer Santi. He graciously accepts, making his way to the other side of the kitchen counter, helping himself. 
“So-” you and Frankie say at the same time. Santi pauses his actions mid-bite. 
Frankie nudges you to speak first. You clear your throat to ease the awkwardness in the room. 
“So,” you start again. “Were you, uh… were you serious about watching Isa?” you ask?
“Every weekend?” Frankie adds. 
You giggle, nodding an affirmative at your husband. “Yes, every weekend?” 
Santi finishes the bite he paused on, and sets his waffle down. “You dirty dogs!” he says. 
“Pope, come on,” Frankie’s palms go over his cheeks that are currently turning red at Santi’s teasing. 
He lets out a laugh. “Sí, cabrón (yes, asshole),” Santi says, slapping Frankie’s shoulder.  “Of course I’m serious. I’d do anything for both of you, and especially that demon of a little girl.” 
Your heart warms at Santi’s sentiment. You’re beyond grateful Frankie has a best friend like him. 
“On one condition,” Santi adds, his eyebrow quirked up.
“Anything,” you say eagerly. Frankie nods his head in agreement with you.
“I also wasn’t kidding when I said I’d need another sobrino (niece/nephew).”
You and Frankie look at each other, your stares saying everything they needed to. Yeah, Santi didn’t need to worry about that. 
And you were right when the next Saturday morning, a month and four tío Santi sleepovers later, you and Frankie presented Santi with your pregnancy test displaying two pink lines.
Tumblr media
End note: Thank you all so much for reading! Likes, comments, reblogs, etc, — all your support means the absolute world to me. I wouldn’t be able to do this without all of you. Thank you so so so much. There are genuinely not enough words to express my gratitude. As always feedback for my stories (at a technical sense) is also super super helpful whether it is constructive or positive! Anything helps me to be the best writer that I can be. All my love! Xo
Tags: @katiexpunk @janaispunk @farmerlarrry @mellymbee @jobee403 @soavenuepenguin @rainbowcosmicchaos @untamedheart81 @babygal-babygal @pedritoferg @suzdin @getitoutofmymind @pedrostories
Let me know if you’d like to be tagged or removed!
EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!
931 notes · View notes
octopotto · 5 months
Text
Brain Rot: TWST Cast with Saitama! Reader
OCTO NOTE: College has been absolutely brutal. These headcanons were worked on bit by bit these past few months :(
I saw some TWST fics that used pre-exsiting characters to based the MC off of and I wanted to try w/ one of my favourite characters.
WARNINGS: NOT PROOF-READ, OOC Behaviour, this is so cringe but very self-indulgent, mc is the most sane person in this universe, you decide if mc is bald or not, yandere if you squint hard enough.
SPOILERS FOR: TWISTED WONDERLAND
**The reader will ALWAYS be Gender-Neutral! 
Tumblr media
———————————-••———————————
Life at Night Raven College would be much more peaceful if MC had Saitama’s strength lol
Problems would've been solved quicker as well.
At first glance, you don’t seem to be a threat.
To most, you look like a regular, magic-less human on the outside.
And that’s what makes you so dangerous.
Don’t fuck around and overblot unless you have a death wish.
The Overblot crew definitely had one when MC swung their fist at them.
The whole prologue would be shortened.
Fun fact: You accidentally put too much force on the coffin door to get out, thus smashing Grim in the process while he was prying it open :D
Grim, the Ramshackle ghost, and Crowley were the first group to witness your impressive strength.
And by impressive, they mean terrifying.
To Crowley and Grim at least.
The ghost were shocked but very much amused after a couple moments.
God knows how the Ramshackle Dorm was still in one piece after that.
Grim is very happy to have a strong minion to protect him
Just don’t hurt him like you did with the ghost pls. And the door lol
Crowley would be most likely absolutely be afraid and made a mental note to keep track of you. 
Especially since you were almost successful to killing him in his ghost form. He’s making sure that Ramshackle gets fixed quicker.
Crowley: “Great Sevens… How do they have such monstrous strength... This stowaway is just a magicaless human! My…what have I gotten myself into?? *sobs* OH IF I WASN’T SUCH A KIND AND GENEROUS SOUL I WOULD NOT LET THIS TYPE OF BEHAVIOUR BE PRESENT ON MY CAMPUS” *more obnoxious sobbing*
You and Grim: 😶😐????
Despite scaring and almost killing the shit out of the Headmaster, you still start off as a janitor lol.
Fast forward to the Mine Incident with Ace, Deuce, and Grim—
You basically massacred that monster.
A monster that probably injured many Mages and Wizards
You destroyed it in one punch.
On that day, Ace reminded himself to never piss you off again. Ever.
He loves cherry pie, but would rather not become the filling itself, thanks.
Deuce probably was gawking at you after the shock.
Not in a bad way
But in a good way y'know?
But he’s too shy to ask for advice for now.
This is basically the start of Deuce idolizing you and your strength.
Brain Rot:
Ace, Deuce and Grim are your self-proclaimed bodyguards.
At least THEY like to think that they are.
Listen, they know that you are MORE THE CAPABLE protecting yourself in fights or in any physical confrontations.
But that’s it.
You’re basically shit at everything else.
From completing your assignments to even showing up to class, it seems like in the trio's eyes that you NEED THEM to take care of you. You all are like family now!
So they all make an effort to help you out when you need it.
No really, if you keep forgetting to submit that one potion essay that Crewel keeps smacking your shiny ass head to complete, you’re going to get left behind.
 They’re more like secretaries than bodyguards lol.
The post-overblot Spelldrive tournament was an absolute nightmare.
Well, at least for everyone but Ace, Deuce, and Grim.
They were GLOATING about how they were in the lead and challenged anyone to try and top them like the smug, over-confident assholes they are.
The only reason why they were in the lead was because of you. Simple as that.
The Savannaclaw gang put up a good fight
For the first 10 minutes in the match.
All Leona could do at that moment was strategize how not to get his and his teammate’s heads chopped off by the disc you kept throwing at them.
You are quite fond of Ruggie
More specifically: you were fond of Ruggie’s haggling skills.
If were had a choice to trade your god-like strength for his haggling skills and techniques, you wouldn’t hesitate one bit.
And y’know it wouldn’t be Ruggie if he didn’t take advantage of this. He would offer you advice and tell you if theres a huge sale going on at a near-by grocery store if you promise to lend him a hand whenever he needed it.
You were so tempted to say no
Not because he was shady and overall untrustworthy
You’re just lazy
This is his way to spend more time with you but he would never admit that out-loud.
If your MC is bald, instead of Floyd squeezing you, he will smack and ‘dribble’ your head as if it was basketball.
Jamil and Ace especially are amused.
God forbid you ever get a bad tan on the top of your scalp
You will NEVER hear to end of it.
Floyd also is your biggest bully.
jk but not really
Yeah he knows that you could probably kill him with a gentle tap
But when did that ever stop him?
He mainly does it because he wants to see your reactions
You’re so plain looking and your nonchalant voice and facial expressions do not help as well.
But remember only Floyd HIMSELF can do those things to you, okay? Only him.
If he ever finds out that some random NPC student was doing the same thing to you, You’re going to be finding that NPC tossed in a corner somewhere with almost all their joints mangled.
You like how generous Kalim is.
You probably helped him fan the fire off his ass in the ceremony
He’s was incredibly thankful and was able to remember what you looked like.
I mean, you literally saved him!
How could he not remember you?
You don't remember him but let’s not go there lol
Because you saved Kalim from being cooked, he always makes sure that you had enough food for the month!
He would practically beg, like BEG Jamil to make extras so you won’t go hungry.
Especially after experiencing what type of living conditions you were dealing with in Book 5.
Poor Jamil, not only is he working overtime for Kalim, but technically serving food for the person who ruined his plans back in Book 4.
Jamil packing food for you by Kalim’s request: 😡😡😡
totally did not try to poison your food on several occasions
Kalim also begs Jamil to let him deliver the food to you.
He can’t help it! He really enjoys seeing you happy when you receive something from him and Jamil.
You never complain about.
Free food = Saving money.
I mean, if you're being gifted something, why be rude and deny it?
Some students say that you were taking advantage of Kalim because of how easily you accept his gifts without anything in return.
And y'know they could be right
But Kalim doesn't mind.
As long as you're happy, he's happy :)
In Vil’s eyes, you are an enigma. 
It’s like he can’t wrap his pretty little head around on how he feels about you.
On one hand, other than your god-like strength, you’re nothing special. When he first saw you he only disregarded you as another potato that’s not worth his precious time and effort on.
But on the other hand, Vil sees you as a blank slate. Something that ASKING for him to put his smooth and perfectly manicured fingers on. Someone that needs his guidance and skills. 
He doesn’t care if you’re bald or have hair, it doesn’t derail him from the fact that despite you sticking out like a sore-thumb, you’re still so…plain looking.
You probably said some off-hand comment about how ‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder’ to Vil and just walked off.
It might not meant anything to you
But it meant a lot to Vil.
When it came to the overblots and eventually Book 5, he felt as though he was in a spiral of questions that he himself must find the answers for.
And what were the questions that caused Vil’s current state of disarray about? You obviously.
He’s going mad
He can’t stand it.
You said that beauty is in the eye of the holder? Fine then.
He knows that he could do something for you. 
Something marvellous, something beautiful.
For you and himself. 
You had a new nickname for Malleus every time you guys end up running into eachother.
Malleus would always look forward to meeting you solely for the nicknames.
I believe that Saitama genuinely does not care enough to remember other people’s names that much
So that will be a trait for MC in this.
Malleus probably thinks this is a way humans show affection to each other.
In reality, you cannot for the life of you remember that weirdo's name.
Malleus: *Appears out of thin air in front of the MC*
Malleus: Greetings, Child of Man *smiles*
MC Thinking: ‘Why does this rando keep coming back? What was his name again?’
Malleus: *Anticipating their response with excitement*
MC: Uhhhh..
MC: Wassup…Horton? :D
Malleus: *Smiles at his new nickname*
It took a while for you to come up with a permanent nickname for him but he doesn't mind
In his eyes, it's your way of showing him how much you wanted to become closer companions.
Jack and Epel are always on your ass about “How to become stronger” and when you actually tell them the routine that you did at the beginning of your journey, they literally fell in disbelief.
They couldn’t believe it.
It was basically a simple workout routine 
Both still believe that you’re hiding the secret of how you got to your level of strength.
Thus, joint workouts became also a thing within the NRC Campus and you are the leader.
Not by choice however.
Jack, Epel, and everyone else involved were really curious as to how you train.
I mean, look at what you can do! And you’re not even a Mage!
The first meeting was terrible due to the fact you almost obliterated the school.
One flick and the gym could’ve been in shambles.
That’s why Jack and Epel made sure to do it somewhere far and secluded.
And even then, you still created a lot of damage with minimal effort.
It’s incredible to those who look up to you.
Throughout the story, you gained some admiration and recognition along the way.
From Heartslaybul to Diasomnia, you unknowingly grab the admiration of those who either want to become stronger or see you as a hero. 
Some might say that they see you as the messiah who was sent to protect the school.
But let’s not go that far.
You wouldn’t notice anyways
In your eyes they're all a bunch of weirdos.
———————————-••———————————
OCTO NOTE: Hopefully you guys enjoyed these very terrible brain-rot headcanons. I always found Saitama’s character interesting so I wanted to try out something new. 
Again, I’ve been very busy so I can’t promise anything BUT I can say that there will be more Yandere FF7 fics coming soon! ;)
Thank you to everyone who enjoys my low-quality works! Hope you look forward to my new ones ❤️❤️
511 notes · View notes
dyk3ification · 1 year
Text
low | ellie williams
Tumblr media
summary: ellie has been and always will be on top, the dominant one. but when reader asserts her control, ellie can’t help but fold a little. basically ellie x dom! fem reader. (written from ellie's pov)
warnings: slight choking, name-calling (teasing), slapping, r receiving, r riding, strap-on sex, pet names, subtop! ellie x dombottom! reader, no use of y/n, if i forget anything pls lmk, 18+ (minors PLS dni.)
word count: 2,592
A/N: hi i havent written in so long and i cant stop reading ellie fics atm so i figured why not! plus i feel like there's a shortage of dom! fem reader fics out there. i just thought it would be a different reading experience to almost be in ellie's head, pretend ur reading her journal or sum fr. all that being said i hope you enjoy!! pls lmk if you do!! and a big ty to @elliewill for all her help and motiv when i was writing and debating this fic, i love her so bad.
Tumblr media
i'm in charge, always. in charge of pleasing her, fucking her, loving her; in charge of her. the power complex when she's beneath me while i pound into her, getting to watch her face as the only sound she can make isn't even moaning. just short, open-mouthed gasps and whimpers, her eyes always locked with mine. her eyes would feel like they were nearly piercing into my brain like two damn fucking ice picks.
it only made me want more. more power, more of her. the way her eyes would hold their gaze on mine, even when the pleasure would threaten her to squeeze them shut; or go half-lidded. which was so unbelievably fucking hot to watch, knowing i was the reason for that- i needed her to look at me. i needed to know that she knew who was in charge, who was doing this to her, and who was making her feel so good. so i could know i was that person. who owned her, and fucked her so well she could barely keep her pretty eyes open. or her mouth closed. one of my hands began to travel, the journey starting from one of her thighs that i had pressed into her abdomen as i fucked her, not forgetting to drag the pads of my fingers over her skin; knowing how she reacted- and loving the feel of her shiver beneath them when she did react. the journey ended at her neck, one of my favorite places of her to hold. especially during times like these. i had a hold on her, physically and metaphorically. i threatened a squeeze, smirking softly as her pretty little lips parted when i did. those perfect lips, that were glazed from her drool, and mine. those lips that she couldn't keep shut, but could only let those heavenly fucking sounds out of. the sounds of encouragement, the sounds that i caused her to make. a short gasp fell from those damned lips of hers when i threatened the squeeze. i leaned in even more, my own lips barely touching hers, but enough for her to whimper against mine. it killed me knowing she whimpered, just for me. just for a fucking kiss from me. i began to speak, wanting to hear more of those pretty little praises. whether by sounds or words, despite knowing the words would probably be broken; but that made it even better. “yeah baby? you love me fucking you, ‘feels good, yeah?” 
“yeah.. it feels good fucking me, doesn't it, baby?” 
my grip on her neck loosened for a moment, more so fucking slipped. i let out a wry laugh to disguise the clearing i needed to do for my throat, nearly choking over what i just heard. i squeezed her throat this time, using her neck as leverage to pull her face to mine. baby? is she fucking with me? her face was smug once we were face to face, i couldn't tell if i was feeling her pulse on my palm or my own fucking heart pounding. baby. why did she sound so fucking hot-
“you okay, baby?” she spoke again. jesus fucking christ. her delicate hand trailed up my forearm, i knew she was watching my face to see if i'd give in. cave into her touch, her words; her. she stopped at my wrist, and my grip on her neck was merely even a hold at this point- and she used it to her advantage. she lifted my hand slowly, placing my thumb between those fucking lips of hers. the same lips that were making me so fucking weak with their words. “`m fine.” i mumbled, maybe stuttered. i knew i didn't look it, but i was so ready to just fucking collapse. and she knew it.
“you sure?” she asked again, the plump skin of her lips brushing against the pad of my thumb when she spoke. i can't fucking do this shit. i hadn't even realized i had stopped moving, or lost my grip on those delicious fucking thighs of hers. but she did.
oh and did she use it to her advantage. she took those thighs and pulled me in again, locking me in with her. i couldn't hold back the groan, i was holding it in for too long at this point. her words, her voice, her fucking lips.. the pressure against me from the fucking harness of the strap when she pulled me in. everything. i dropped my face into the crook of her neck. too ashamed to even face her. god does not fucking give his toughest battles to his strongest soldiers.
“ohhh, c’mon baby…” she fucking cooed. i just pressed my lips to her neck, trying to keep together any fucking amount of dignity i had left. if i were ever to whimper- so help me god. she fucking giggled. i suppose the hitch of my breath when my hands practically shook against her waist; was not keeping my act together. 
within seconds i was being pushed onto my back, my own hands getting thrown at my sides. she crawled right onto my lap, her thighs on either side of mine, caging me in. i was absolutely fucking gone. i threw my hands up, my biceps staying against the bed. “babe.” i managed to get out, my eyes probably looking fucking wild. do i look at her face, her tits, her? she had rode me before, just not.. like this. “what is it, baby?” she said so fucking casually. like it was just some ordinary fucking question. is she fucking insane?
“noth.. nothin’.” i said through a shaky breath, real fucking dominant ellie. my eyes darted back and forth between her own, and her hips as she took me in again. that perfectly tight little cunt of hers sliding both of us right back into place. i bit down on my lip, leaning my head back into the pillow and just staring at the ceiling. i was gone. 
a few throaty moans escaped my lips. a sound i rarely let happen. get it to-fucking-gether. the pressure on me from her bouncing on the stupid fucking cock, the sheer sight of her fucking herself on me like the little fucking slut she was. i could barely even watch her, i'd embarrassed myself enough. all i could do was let a hand run up her thigh, too weak even to caress it the way i usually would. i stopped at her hip, those perfect round hips she moved so fucking well for me. she had the power now. she had power over me. 
“you like watching me fuck you, huh baby? so fucking dirty-” she spoke almost brokenly, but the words. the words. i think i let out a choke from them. if she ever knew how close to the edge i was right now. so close to soaking through the thin cotton of my fucking boxers. just from this and the friction, i’d never fucking hear the end of it. maybe i wanted to listen to it, though.
“mm- mhm. watching.. watching you take me s-so  fucking good baby…” 
she froze, stopping all her movements. those eyes piercing mine once again. oh fuck.
“did you just fucking stutter?” she said with that smug little fucking look, i could practically hear a laugh in her throat. she tilted her head, slowly leaning down to be face to face. i'm fucking gone. i furrowed my brows when i looked back to her. keep your fucking composure ellie. get it together. “no.” i practically choked on the syllable, my hand on her hip slipping slightly. she just gave me a smirk, that slutty little, smug, fucking smirk.
“fuck.”
it was all i could say- whimpered,  when she jutted her hips forward, if she didn't know i was on the brink before, she sure as fuck did now. my hands had dropped at this point, i had to of looked like such a fucking fool. i couldn't even keep my eyes open at this point, but i had to. i couldn't miss seeing her like this. being such a slut and owning it. owning me. she looked so fucking hot right now, taking me in and out of that tight cunt effortlessly, her hair thrown to one side, her perfect fucking tits bouncing with every jut of her hips. and she was all fucking mine, and clearly, i was all fucking hers.
i squeezed my eyes shut, unsure of how else to hide how fucking close i was. how fucking close i was to letting go into my fucking boxers beneath the goddamned harness of the strap she was fucking herself on. i kept my eyes shut, unable to look at her knowing what i was about to fucking do. how fucking embarrassing.
until i felt that sweet little hand of hers on my neck, her touch gentle and her skin soft. my eyes were jutting open, as much as they even could, if they weren't rolling fucking backward already. i whined. how fucking pathetic. 
“babe-”
i tried to speak, only to be cut off by a smack on my fucking cheek.  from the same dainty hand that was just on my neck. and i fucking moaned. the sting of it. the fucking sting that came from that sweet hand of hers. 
 “i want you to look at me when you cum.” 
and i nearly did right there. she knew what she was doing, what i was trying not to do, the entire fucking time. i just gave her a nod, too embarrassed of what would come out sound or word-wise if i were to fucking speak. usually, i’d be ravenous at this point for her to fucking cum, abusing that cute clit of hers while she bounced on me. until she gushed around me and collapsed. but that's the last possible thing i could even fathom doing right now, she was waiting on me. fucking herself to the brink. fucking me to the verge of insanity, it felt like.
“what a fuckin’ pussy..” she muttered through her heavenly fucking moans, shooting me a smirk. and i let out a fucking gasp. a fucking throaty, wimpy, loser-like fucking gasp.. a whimper.
i knew she was nearing her end, the way her hips twitched at the end of every hip thrust, the way she began to slouch towards me. i just wanted to fucking touch her, and i couldn't. 
but she was fucking herself. 
“you like watching me play with my little clit, baby-” 
fuck.
she was starting to lose again.
“you're so fuckin’ hot, baby..” i finally managed to speak coherently. barely. my eyes darted down to what she was doing, taking my chance when she tilted her head back from the euphoria. those pretty digits of her’s making circles over her clit, so wet her slick had them glistening. god. she looked so fucking pretty like that, using me as a fucking toy. fucking herself into euphoria. so much of a slut for me that my cock wasn't enough. she needed even more.
that hand of hers that had slapped me, that nearly had me coming, amongst other things; still on my cheek. anytime my eyes fluttered shut, she'd give the skin of my cheek beneath her palm a smack. reminding me of what she wanted from me. this tap, she wanted something else. those fingers she had on that clit of hers just mere seconds ago, now being dragged down on my lower lip, tugging it when she did. teasting me with the essence of her cunt that i loved so much. it took everything i had in me not to give in and suck on them like some little bitch, yearning to taste that sweet shine on them.
 i wasn't that weak, though.
“go ahead. suck ‘em off, baby. just like my little mouth does on that big fucking cock of yours.”
nevermind. 
and i did. wrapping my lips around those two fingers, stabilizing myself by wrapping my hand around her wrist. being a little bitch, her little bitch. i knew i must have looked like one too. sucking the juices of that delicious pussy of hers off of her fingers, latched onto them like i was fucking dehydrated and hadn't had a damn drink in days. 
“this must be how pretty i look.. huh? when i'm suck- sucking your dick.” 
there she was. 
she slipped. if we were in any other situation, i would've caught it. but she did. of course, she did. so she snatched her sweet fingers away, wrapping them around my jaw to cover that slip-up that showed how weak she still was. like i should be fucking talking. to keep my eye contact locked with hers, those gorgeous fucking eyes. 
“gonna… gonna cum all over your fucking cock, baby,” she said through broken moans and her pretty little sounds, continuing to fuck as much out of that silicone as she could take. without my relentless ‘help,’ she couldn't take as much. but she was taking it  “so good.. my fuck.. fuckin’ whore..” her eyes were glued to mine. the contact unbreakable. like something was holding the connection of us together so fucking well. and there was; pure fucking lust. she knew how badly i wanted to watch. watch her slick shining all over my cock every time she moved up on it, watch it pool at the base of it. soak those perfect fucking thighs, knowing i'd clean it all up for her after.
she was losing.
but fucking so was i.
she let out one loud moan, gasping as she began to tremble, her hand that was once on my neck dragging down to my abdomen. clutching on for dear fucking life. i let out a grunt when her face was down, letting her fuck herself through her orgasm. “so fucking good, baby..” i said as i watched her, hiding my own trembling with hers. i was sure my lip would be fucking bruised from how hard i was biting it. my hands slipping down her hips yet again, still wanting to keep her precious body stable and safe while we, she came. i am no better than a man. 
the skin of my abdomen beneath her fingers, now indented with crescent shapes from her damn nails. a wet spot from slick on the base of the strap. 
and beneath it. 
she collapsed onto my chest, her chest rising with every fall of my own. our bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces that created a perfect picture. i threw an arm around her back as she lifted her hips off with a short breath, allowing me to pull out. 
and there she was, there i was. fucked, literally. I tightened my arm around her back, her sweet body curling against mine when i did, dancing the pads of my fingers along her ribs. 
she nestled her cheek into the valley of my chest, her sweet fingers dancing up the strap of my sports bra. “hey.” i spoke up, lifting my hand from her side to brush some wispy hairs from her temple, some of them stuck to her sticky skin. she looked up to me, using my chest as a pillow for her chin. that pretty face, all mine.
“you really think i'm a pussy?” i quirked as i looked down to her.
a beat.
“i mean.. you are what you eat.” 
“speaking of.”
i smirked. i had a mess to clean up.
1K notes · View notes
demonbanger · 1 year
Text
𝔇𝔬𝔫’𝔱 𝔣𝔯𝔢𝔱 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔬𝔲𝔰 ℑ’𝔪 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 |
ft. sex demon ! 𝗘𝗨𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗦𝗦 𝗞𝗜𝗗 | 🌶 🔞 MDI
“𝙄𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣’𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙡𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙩, 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙤𝙤𝙩𝙮 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙡.” — E. Kid, to you
Tumblr media
synopsis: on a lonely night you decide to get a bit buzzed and think, fuck it, why not try to summon a sex demon? Turns out to be either the biggest blessing, or biggest mistake you’ve made in a while.
♫: click for inspo song
pairing: Incubus! Kid x Fem! Reader (no physical description of reader, except hair that can be pulled)
cw: *inhales* demon summoning, bully Eustass, brat taming, blood + pain play, cunnilingus, drinking mention, predator x prey, breeding, dacryphilia, dumbification, belly bulge, overstimulation, praise + degradation, size kink af with our 6’7 king, use of pet names, insane stamina, gets softer at the end
tags: @goshitshardtohaveagoodname @nikos-a-clown @pinkcrystal-rose
© Writing & Imagery in this is my intellectual property. Do not plagiarize or repost to other platforms without my permission. Love, DemonBanger
______
You stuff your fingers in your dribbling pussy, but just could not get yourself full enough. You felt like such a horny bastard tonight, with so much sexual desperation, and finally decided you wanted to start masturbating again. But nothing worked like when you first started; you’ve just been single for too long and miss the feeling of real cock.
Even a dildo couldn’t do the trick anymore. You needed the real thing, with pumping veins and harsh thrusts, attached to a heavy man that pressed you into the mattress, with low grunts and dirty words moaned lowly into your ear.
You sigh in frustration and set the toys down, taking a swig out of some whiskey to let it take over more of your senses. The liquor burns so beautifully going down your throat…too bad there wasn’t another hot liquid also sinking down your oral cavity.
The familiar floaty headspace seeps in like an old friend that you keep away at arm’s length, as your heartbeat drums in your warm chest. Buzzed you feels like a dragon waking from a slumber, with old runes in the form of dumb ideas filling your brain.
“Might as well fucking summon a sex demon at this point,” you mutter. The idea rolls over in your head for a few minutes, and the curiosity of trying something crazy and reckless like this gets more and more appealing to your buzzed brain, until eventually you think: Wait. Fuck it, what if I tried it at least? You laugh to yourself.
What would you have to lose anyways? Just your soul? You don’t even feel like you have one these days until you drink good old caffeine.
You tap the safari icon on your phone, to research how one would even go about summoning an incubus, and take another swig to invite the madness more.
A few forums say the same thing. People asking if you actually want to invite such a thing into your life, some dude talking about how his wife cheated on him with one of those entities and was never the same after that. Hahah…cuck.
You scoff. You have existential crises every day, no sex demon can fuck your life up like you feel you can. Demons, where you at? It’s ya boi. You think about the meme and cackle way too hard for something so unfunny and possibly life-threatening.
Then you scroll over a comment that is long with a lot of upvotes on it. It looks serious. Seems legitimate. There are no comments underneath, but it reads like a serious spell book.
Eh, why not? You laugh again. The comment warned against masturbating beforehand to make sure your sexual energy was at its peak to really invite any sexual spirits. Welp, already fucked that up, so if this doesn’t work at least you could have something fun to do and then tire yourself out and call it a night.
Then you read how it involves extracting blood from a few…sources such as the tongue and pussy and you wonder if there’s a better way. A paper cut on any of those things sounds gross. Eek.
You look over YouTube and find the first video that pops up. The speaker sounds experienced, and says that it’s much simpler than any methods. Just make a request to the demon Asmodeus by reaching a meditative state, and adamantly focusing on his name.
Simple enough. You try and make sure your room is a little tidy, burn a couple of cutesy candles, and dress in a black spiked collar and a cute, lacey red lingerie set you got yourself a little while back. Scarlet garters hold up soft thigh highs that bring out your thighs and make your lower body look extra luscious. You take in this moment of feminine confidence. What are you? You’re a bad bitch. And what are you about do? Get fucked.
You sit prettily on your bed, take another swig of the burning drink, shake your hips in excitement, close your eyes, and make the signature meditation pose. You even put the sigil of Asmodeus on your laptop to better reach him. Look at you, doing the most. Then, you bite your lip in concentration and your buzzed brain is slow enough to focus on one thing slowly.
Asmodeus. Asmodeus. Asmodeus, are you with me? You think with intention.
Just as you thought. No answer. You continue.
Asmodeus, I know I never spoke to you in my life. I’m Y/n, I know this is silly but I don’t mind giving up some of my energy to get fucked voraciously by a demon boy. An incubus please. Is that ok?
You wait for an answer, peep at the candles. They’re just flickering normally. You try not to psych yourself into micro analyzing the movement of the little flames. Drunk you could do that all night. But you need to keep focused. Then you continue.
Hopefully it is ok, Mr. Asmodeus. I don’t know if I need to give up my blood n shit. I’m just a little drunk girl and honestly I’ve given up so much life energy to toxic exes at this point, you don’t need to warn me,, I know I’m rambling, but uh, yeah. I don’t give a fuck. But also, respectfully, make sure he wants me too. That shit’s hot. Do you even hear me at this point?
A chill up your spine stops you from thinking further. It’s such a chill that you shiver. It’s the same sensation in your nerves that you’d feel if someone ran a finger along your entire sensitive spine. Your window isn’t open.
There’s no way.
Good talk, you think. Don’t know what the fuck that was.
You sigh, keeping yourself open for answers. Maybe he’s thinking? Who knows. For a second you almost feel a little silly for getting all dressed and stuff.
Then you feel a chill up your spine, only more intense. Your hairs stand on end. It’s kind of spooky. You’re drunk though so you’re in more of a relaxed, “oh no!!! anyways” sort of mindset. But none of your windows are open and you haven’t turned on the AC all day.
You take another swig out of the bottle and your face burns. You’re sure your eyes are a bit bloodshot, face flushed. You think about what a male demon would say if he saw you. Probably something like—Put the bottle down, sweetheart.
You cackle in your mind. Sorry about that, daddy, gotta have fun.
Keep calling me that, I like it, the thought says a bit louder in your mind, purring more sexily than you’ve ever imagined a man sounding. Wait, did you make that up or are you tripping?
Dumbass.
You open your eyes again. So that was your imagination…or was it? There’s a little bit of doubt in your mind. Either way your imagination is vivid and you crack yourself up.
Damn it, you play too much, now your drunk ass can’t even tell what’s someone telepathically communicating to you and what’s you imagining someone telepathically communicating to you.
You clear your throat a little.
“Oi, am I wasting my time? Am I making this up? Give me a sign or show yourself , but don’t like scare me, or else I’m just going to sleep.” You try to speak clearly and confidently.
Your head whips around to the wall at something suddenly in your peripheral, and you notice a little area starts to glow, brighter and brighter. It’s a sigil. The same one you put on your computer moments ago. It’s very slow. Your heart feels like it’s in your fucking throat as you blink extra hard. Nope, still there. Holy fuck??
You swallow, slightly nervous besides your sense of fear being dulled down.
A gasp leaves your throat at a sudden tapping noise coming straight from the sigil. A fist punches through your wall, except not actually punching through its material. The glowing sigl must be some sort of portal. You let out a shocked squeal as the fist shakes around the air of your room. The clawed hand opens and the body attached steps out.
“The fuck was that?”
Oh lord. He’s huge. And above all else, irresistibly sexy.
The demon stands before you, towering over most of your room proudly, a wild crown of red hot hair adorning his head. The candlelight flickers wildly as he looks directly at you. His handsome features complete with sharp eyes like glowing amber surrounded by darkness, almost dragon-like. Is that…lipstick? And guyliner. Another shiver runs through you at how attracted you are to this creature from hell. You must’ve made Asmodeus laugh and scored the jackpot in return. That sharp nose.. with the pretty bumps on the side…you wonder how it would feel riding it.
He’s wearing a coat trimmed with maroon fur, that still leaves little to the imagination as his entire muscular, giant torso is bare with a sheen that accentuates carved abs, perhaps sweat because hell is hot. Black pants with chains hang low on his hips. You don’t see visible wings but are sure he can make them appear if he wanted.
Just, holy shit.
Dark maroon lips smirk. His voice is raspy, a little tired, a little indifferent, but the look in his eyes says otherwise. “So…you gonna just keep staring at me all night and get off that way, or?”
You bite your lip. He’s so fucking smug. Your pussy starts pooling more wetness than already built up.
“I-well, yeah, you just appeared through my fucking wall,” you roll your eyes, not submitting so easily. “The hell did you expect?”
The demon flashes a mouth full of beautiful, dangerous teeth.
“Pretty little minx, and a smart mouth on ya too. I guess he was right it’d be worth bothering the admiral of the legions, can’t wait to fuck the brattiness out of you.”
Black, ornate trousers that appear punk and shredded to bits sway as he steps closer to your bed.
“Oh, Careful—” you warn but one of his beautiful, tall, twisty horns hits your ceiling fan, and you find it comical how a 7 foot tall demon is cursing at hitting his left horn in your room.
His eyes squint at you. “Fucking brat. Laughing at me, not even telling me your name. I could drag a rude little mortal like you to hell and eat you alive for lack of manners,” he drawls, little to no venom in his words, his voice so deep and rich you almost get lost in it for a moment. Little does he know you want him to eat you alive.
“Oh—, I mean you’re right, sorry sir,” you spit out the sorry as sarcastically as possible, “I’m Y/n, what’s your name?”
He eyes your thighs clenching together and a mocking chuckle bubbles in his chest. “Name’s Kid. But you, little thing, can call me Eustass for tonight when I’m impaling you on my cock.”
A little whimper is forced out of you at how dirtily he spoke, like he made an incantation to turn you on instantly. “Eustass,” you try out, making precum drip out of him more than he’d like to admit. Your eyes flit down to his cock that he mentioned, then back up. He knows you were staring. And he’s so damn smug about it too, because the big guy’s bulge looks absolutely huge.
He looks over at the toys on your bed and scoffs, picking up your dildo, and eyeing it snarkily. Your face burns in indignation at his wolfish, leering smirk.
“Oh princess. Might as well throw these—“ he locates your trash bin, “right here. Because I’m gonna fucking ruin them for you. And you can kiss any man’s dick goodbye.” He drops your sex toys into the trash like a mic drop.
And you’re not even mad. Your thighs shift against the fabric of your bodysuit to gain any sort of friction, so turned on from imagining what’s to come.
“Yeah? You like that? I can just smell how much that turned you on. Such a pathetic, needy, desperate slut. You in heat or something?”
You can only nod your head.
He makes his way back to the bed, walking like he has all the time in the world, and you eye him for how beautiful and dangerous he is, oozing sex appeal. He also eyes you hungrily, like a starved carnivore eyeing its new living meal. Heat from hell radiates off of him, and he smells otherworldly; almost sweet; with notes of pure musk, steel, blood, leather, sweat, and desire.
(You don’t know that the pheromones you’re releasing have a similar effect on him, but he wants to make you beg and whimper; mewl, cry, break).
You take in shaky breaths, not because those fangs could rip chunks out of you if he wanted to…well, that’s hot too.
Kid grabs your bottle of whiskey from your mattress, eyeing you with pure hunger as he gets so close to you, and sets it on the floor. “That’s gonna break if it stays on your bed.” He dips his head closer to you, inhales again to smell your arousal, and his eyes roll shut.
“A-are we gonna have a safeword? I’m not paying any hospital bills if you break my body,” you finally speak up, voice pitch heightened from horniness.
He scoffs. “How fucking adorable, such a needy stupid baby, you didn’t even think before making a contract with someone who could do whatever he wants with you no?” the redhead strokes your thigh as he sounds so mean and condescending, large clawed hand gripping your upper leg, squeezing your supple flesh. His breathing is heavy. Fiery eyes peer down into your soul as he pauses.
“Spikes.” He feels your collar, humming in approval. “But just know, you signed up to be fucked. And drained.” His blackened thumb traces over your bottom lip as he holds your chin. “If you can’t handle the heat, you should know better than to booty call hell.”
“Mhmm,” you say, nodding in his hold, tongue darting out to caress his finger. Kid snarls.
Just like that, a large palm presses on your sternum and shoves you down onto the bed. He yanks you by the hips to the edge of the mattress with a bruising grip, and bucks his clothed hips into yours sharply, trouser-covered bulge slapping your pussy roughly, eliciting a whine from your throat.
“Gonna keep your neighbors up with us all night just like this,” he growls, bucking onto you, hands tracing your hips, fingers dipping under your bodysuit to caress your soaking core.
“Wet kitty, so fucking sinful.” He pulls out his fingers, separating them and admiring how your slick strings up and drips down his hand. Then, glowing eyes gaze into yours as a long, sharp, forked tongue licks your essence up, cleaning them in one stroke. You throb. He tosses his trench coat to the floor and you admire his giant, muscular body. Thick neck you want to scratch up. Giant muscles carved of porcelain and littered with scars that you want to bite and paint even prettier. A fallen angel of vermillion, ready to stab you in the dark, drag you down in lust and weeping to your personal circle of heavenly hell.
Without another word, he dips his head down and snaps the crotch of your bodysuit open leaving you with no room to think. He flattens his large, forked tongue and licks a broad, wet stripe over your sopping cunt.
“ ‘s cunny’s mine,” he breathes, and begins his attack on you with his mouth, squeezing your thighs, large tongue teasing into you.
“Yes it’s all—, ohhhh~” He pulls out and shoves two huge fingers with painted fingernails into your entrance, stretching you out and making you arch your back from the sudden stimulation, pussy smushing into his face further. He growls again, feral in nature, the vibrations going straight to your clit as he intently watches your reactions. Wide tongue lapping at your clit, swirling, making you speak in tongues and whimper at how full you are. You do not regret summoning a demon at all.
He adds a third impossibly thick finger and scissors them in and out of you, then impatiently thrusts his tongue back in to fuck you, massaging every little nook and cranny of your textured walls. Swirling up, and up, and up until your brain rots inside your skull and you’re roughly grabbing handfuls of his hair.
You hear him groan a prideful, muffled “Good girl,” as his nose bumps into your clit so snugly. Your eyes roll back at the praise. It’s too much, all of it is too much. And yet, you need more, more, more, please, please, please. His tongue hits a tender spot that makes you jolt and begins to attack it in a full-fledged assault, causing you to snap your gaze back to him and buck your hips greedily into him.
Greedy. He likes that. He likes how greedy your cunt is, because he’s just as greedy for you. Your thighs clench around his head when he shakes his face, soaked in your juices, side to side to rub your clit with his nose pressed tightly to you. “E-Eustass!” you call out for him, all strangled, and a purr rumbles in his thick chest.
In response, he only clenches your thighs tighter around his face, continuing to torture you with his pink tongue that’s long and mobile like a fucking tentacle.
You cry out as talonesque nails dig into your thighs and little pricks of blood come out, but he doesn’t care. And neither do you. You grind on him, head swimming in lust, probably only worsening the pinprick wounds. He leans back with you and completely sits down on the floor beneath, holding the entire weight of your body on top of his face with the strength of a powerful war demon.
He slides you up and down, and you tremble, spots of white flecking your vision as you ride his face, smearing your never ending slick to his insatiable delight.
His amber eyes glare at you, urging you to let go and come undone on top of him. Yet mocking you for needing to cum so soon.
And that’s what you do, shaking violently, curling over him, death grip on his scarlet tresses, as he groans at how delicious you taste. The orgasm washes over you so hard you almost fall slack, almost, as your moans fall silent from your circuits sparking. He drinks up all the essence you have to offer, lips smacking at how delicious you are, deep “Mmmhfuck” causing your nipples to perk.
He stands back up and sets you back down on the bed, unzipping his pants.
You’re lightheaded from the most amazing orgasm of your entire life, gazing at the ceiling as static fills your brain in ocean waves of dumbified pleasure.
Then your mouth gapes open at the sight in front of you. Beautifully red pubes trail right over his giant hand, fisting the biggest cock you’ve seen.
“Ngh, t-too big,” you whimper.
“Oh, I’m shocked you can speak,” he laughs darkly.
“Barely,” you try to prop yourself up on your elbows, but it’s so difficult and you fall back down.
He laughs at you, humiliating you in his stare. “Such a weak kitten,” the demon mocks you in faux sympathy.
You feel as though you nutting just now made you so insanely tired.
“Just lay back, dollface, you’re giving daddy life energy as a snack. Gonna make you even prettier, so dumb you can’t even speak.”
Before you can protest, he’s spearing you with his cockhead, ripping a loud moan from your throat.
He’s merciless, as no god has shown him, a fallen angel, any mercy. So why should he, an incubus leeching off of your sexual energy, show any mercy to a cunt that’s all his and swallows him in just right.
He continues to sink into you, and your nails pay him back by digging into him now, in his meaty forearms.
Kid’s tongue darts out over his crimson lips.
“Keep,” he thrusts out slightly, admiring the way you grip him, “fucking,” he thrusts back in all the way, making you shriek, “taking it.” The pain is so much, too much, the stretch fucking burns at how large of a cock is intruding you, but he hammers into you without regards to your comfort or pleasure. He’s the one using you, fucking you like you’re his breathing flesh light, like you’re the one working for him though he’s the escort demon. Ramming in, threatening to fuck right into your cervix, overload. You’re clamping down, your walls are rejecting him. It makes him curse loudly at how hard it is for him to move, but he’s stronger than a mere human, so ever the sadist, Kid pumps in regardless.
The pain of his unrelenting, selfish thrusts starts to turn slowly into pleasure, and the fullness and overwhelming stretch feels delicious. Your mind turns dumb and you start to whine.
“M-more,” you moan, and he grabs your tit harshly, twisting your nipple painfully, making tears rush to your eyes. He does so to the other tit, then slaps them roughly. You whimper his name, back arching like an exorcism in progress. Except exiting you, this demon is not.
“Yeah? You need some more, you selfish brat?” He growls, pace deepening and quickening. “Don’t you worry, I’m not going anywhere, not until the sun is up.” His hips snap against yours, and his nails rake down your body to fold your thighs against your chest, his crushing weight pinning you to the bed. Your mattress hitting the wall. You struggle to catch the breath that’s knocked out of you in this position.
“Fucking look at me,” he suddenly jibes, and you obediently make eye contact with him. “Now don’t you dare fucking look away or quiet those pretty noises. I want to make you scream.”
He’s going at an inhuman speed, and so fucking deep in this mating press, and hits the spot that made you cum before. His balls slapping against your ass, making you scream.
“Eustass! Eustass! Please, please, please, yes, Nnnn! Please!” You beg him to keep going, as he growls, “fuck yes, beg, princess, beg for this fucking cock,” his thrusts getting sloppier as your cunt tightens around him. Your eyes roll back a little, as he’s fucking you dumb.
“Ah!!!” You yelp, as he roughly slaps your ass.
“What did I fucking tell you?” Eustass snarls, and you bite your lip, face flushed as he glowers at you.
“T-to, to uh, look at you,” you say dumbly, gasping for air.
“That’s a smart girl,” he rubs your clit, making you squirm, and he condescendingly coos down at you, “so why don’t you look at me as I wreck you, hmm?”
His body is so big, so hot, he’s so heavy and wide as your poor legs stretch to accommodate his wide shoulders while he opens you like a flower and pounds into you. He smells so fucking good, you think, and you want him to cum inside of you and claim you as his, and you struggle but do your best to keep looking into his wild eyes. He’s absolutely feral, so intimidating, and your body rocks at his severity so you grasp the base of his horns. A little moan leaves him, and if he wasn’t pressed up so close to you, flooding up all of your thoughts and walls and senses, it would have gone undetected.
A darkness takes over his eyes. “Now you’ve fucking done it,” his voice drops ever lower, and he pulls out. Flips you over onto your hands and knees, pulls your hips to face the ceiling, and bottoms back in in one thrust. The new angle has you screaming and moaning his name, “EU—fuck!!!!” You whimper loudly, and he pushes your head down into the covers.
“Yeah—this pussy—is all—fucking mine—you hear that?” he rumbles in between thrusts, slapping your ass again as he arches your back impossibly, balls slapping your cunt. You’re too dumb to understand what he’s saying and he knows that. Your slick is everywhere between the two of you and it’s making him absolutely drunk and feral.
You’re unable to speak real words, you’re babbling and you claw the sheets as he batters your insides over and over like a battering ram. Tears and drool are soaking the covers beneath you, as you moan while you let him use you. He kneads and slaps your ass again. “Look at me.” He reminds you harshly.
You weakly turn your head to look back at him, blubbering, and his pointy, evil grin sends a jolt straight to your core again.
“You’re my fucking pet, and any man you let have this,” he makes a slicing movement with his finger over his throat. “Got it?”
You’re so gorgeous, hair plastered to your forehead and all wild, face flushed and teary, eyelashes fluttering up at him, gasping, as you whimper, “y-yes, Eustass, I belong to you,” and his deep thrusts slow luxuriously.
“Good girl,” he grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you up until your back meets his sweaty inferno of a chest. He rubs more circles on your puffy, abused clit and you squirm from the buzzing overstimulation of another impending orgasm. He eats up how you clench around him, and as your head spins dizzily from him still thrusting up into you deeply, he sinks his teeth into your right shoulder, claiming you.
You cry out weakly from the pain, and spasm around him like a voodoo victim and he lazily fucks you through your second orgasm, enjoying how you make a mess all over his hand.
“Oh, that’s so sexy,” he groans, lapping at the blood on your shoulder, as you squirt all over his arm, and his cock is absolutely drenched, dripping down to his balls. He moans and with a few more thrusts, stills. He fills you up with hot cum.
The giant incubus turns you both around, you still out of breath, dumb, on his cock. “Look here.” He says, like Virgil from Dante’s Inferno showing the writer the lustful circle of hell.
You peer at your reflection in the mirror. You, so fucked out, almost unrecognizable, crying, glowing, lips plump from biting them. A huge bite mark on your shoulder. Bruised hips. Both of you scratched up with a little bit of blood. Legs shaking as you’re sitting pretty on his cock, a bulge evident in your tummy. His huge hands encircling you, him, possessively overshadowing you. He’s so much bigger than you, his width eclipsing you in the reflection.
You lean your head back tiredly. He whispers lowly into your ear. “ ‘M only just getting started with you, but look at how pretty you are as my pet, yeah? This is what I’m gonna see every single night, aren’t you excited?”
You tiredly turn your head to smoosh into his pillowy chest, his smell overpowering your senses, and you look up to him. “This is all I need,” you whisper back.
He sets you down on wobbly legs and holds you up a little. He cups your jaw in his giant hand, and the white of his canines shines. His lipstick is slightly smeared. He looks gorgeous, sinister, a glowing star of red, black, amber, and pale skin.
Then he kisses you, in a way that’s startlingly soft and passionate, in his ferocious way because Eustass is, well, Eustass. He pulls away, eyes glittering darkly.
“That’s the right response, darling.”
———————————————————————-
TO BE CONTINUED 🏴‍☠️ -> part 2!
1K notes · View notes
lizzieisright · 9 months
Text
At least I got you in my head (8) (end)
(7)
Summary: Abby is straight. And then you move in with her.
Tags: modern au, fem!reader, straight!abby (she is doing some comphet bullshit), pining, idiot in love and it's abby, reader is gay and tired.
Notes: finally, you both figure your shit out.
Taglist: @abbyily @lillysbigwilly @gravygranules @blairfox04 @frogtits1 @ccinnamongrl @ninazenuk @urmomsgirlfriend1 @sunkissedbibi @couchgarbage @nil-eena @inlovewithelliewilliams @st4rluvrr @mai5mai @machetegirl109 @azelmawrites @rhae-blackqueen @vea-vea-vea @mnim58e @chubeline @strgrlxox @chrry1ovr @littletinyladybugs @shaemonyou @luvrmunson @saffronssapphic @zootedhoe @2012wannabe @elcantsleep
Thank you guys for reading this story and enjoying it! I was very excited when I wrote this chapter and I hope you'd like it too. For some reason Electric love by Børns was playing in my head the whole time as I wrote the reunion part. And the last lines are reference to the Sleepover by Hayley Kiyoko.
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-
Abby spent her Sunday thinking and thinking and thinking. Even if she wanted to stop she just couldn't, spiralling into the rabbit hole of "does she like me? Do I like her? No, she doesn't like me. I do like her." on repeat. It was still hard to wrap her head around it - in two days her whole perception of herself just turned upside down. And it was good - it always feels good to get rid of this amount of guilt and shame - but it also left Abby in front of metaphorical crossroads and the obvious “what’s next?”.
Abby jumped from being so sure in her feelings to backtracking into “I just figured out my sexuality I need more time”, which was well, true - she did need more time to just..let the knowledge settle.
But you still weren’t home, and her thoughts were too focused on you. Yes, Abby just figured everything out, but the dam that kept her feelings unnoticed broke and now Abby felt everything. The itch she had in her hands before because she wanted to touch you? It was constant now. The desire to call you and just talk? Relentless. She never felt this way about anyone - which was understandable, it’s hard to fall in love with people you’d better be friends with - and the intensity of her feelings was scaring her at times.
Abby spent the first half of Sunday moping around while Ellie provided her silent emotional support and just played games with Abby to keep her occupied. But now and then she’d drift back into her spiralling.
“Abs, until you talk to her all your thoughts have some probability of happening. And it means you’re wasting time, okay? You need to chill.”
“Ellie. Two days ago I learned I’m gay and yesterday I realised I like my roommate. What chill are you talking about?”
“Okay, yeah, my bad. But this spin cycle won’t give any kind of results. Reflect all you want or whatever, but until you talk to her you won’t have an answer.”
“I’m not even sure I want one.”
“You want one, dude. Believe me.” Ellie said somehow menacingly, and Abby didn’t argue.
After Ellie left Abby tried to pick her thoughts apart again, but there was nothing new in her poor brain. Abby felt tired and not lost, but definitely in a dead end. So she decided to use one of her favourite coping mechanisms and hit the gym. The gym always helped, especially with emotions - Abby could box if she was angry or do compounds to concentrate on her form instead of her thoughts, she could stretch just to torture herself and concentrate on physical pain.
Abby packed her bag and went to the gym, hoping for some kind of relief and honestly? A fucking break. She was extremely tired of constant anxiety that changed to sweet memories of you and then changed back to anxiety. Abby wasn’t used to this, so it was taking a huge toll on her - a toll big enough to gain courage to tell you everything. Ellie was right - she needed an answer if she preferred to stay fucking sane.  
And the gym helped. Abby did her safest routine, worried she’d get stuck in her head and hurt herself if she did something different, and while Abby was counting reps and measuring time for the rest period, she didn’t think of you. Her only concern was her form and the mental maths of how much weights she needed to place, how to breathe properly and how to place her feet correctly for the squats.
But the moment Abby left the gym, her thoughts were back. Maybe you already came back home? All your books for tomorrow were at home, you needed them, right? Did you have spare clothes at Cait’s? (where else you’d be? At Vi’s? Abby didn’t even want to entertain the idea, and really, it didn’t seem like you) Abby wasn’t sure if texting you would be a right move right now - she needed space and you probably needed it too. But fuck she missed you.
Abby checked her phone in case there are any messages from you, any messages, even if you'd call her a bitch or something. Just. Any indication you were still in her life.
But no. There was nothing, and the apartment was silent and empty when Abby came back.
Monday went over Abby's head, she couldn't concentrate on her classes which was very surprising: she could go with no sleep and still be present during lessons, but today all she could think about was you. The guilt and shame mixed with excitement and hope and it was driving her insane, being pulled apart by polar emotions like that. Now all these stupid stories from how painful it was to be in love finally made sense to Abby - before you she was never really in love with anybody, but now? Now all these tears and desperation and grand gestures made sense. Coming back to exes? Made sense, because she’d crawl back to you without a question. Forgiving anything? Made sense too.
Fuck, people were really right when they said how powerful love was and what things it made them do for it. And even if it was painful and confusing, Abby felt happy about it, as if her unbearable feelings were a proof of her own humanity. A lot of people before told her she was cold and heartless - Ellie joked about it a lot when Abby didn’t hesitate to tell someone who liked her to fuck off - and sometimes it got to her. Now though? Feeling the sharpest needle going through her heart when she thought of you telling her to fuck off? This pain made Abby feel alive.
Later at practice Abby saw Vi - they didn’t train with each other, different weights, but the days were the same - and Abby expected Vi to be angry at her, but not only Vi wasn’t angry, she actually looked at her sympathetically, as if she knew what was happening in Abby's soul. The guilt and shame were back - yes, Abby was still jealous and yes she still wanted to break every knuckle on Vi’s hands for touching you - but she was self-aware enough to understand that Vi wasn’t a part of this. It wasn’t Vi’s fault that Abby had issues.
And the thing was - Vi was actually fucking nice. Abby didn’t talk to her a lot, but she knew Vi’s story and she admired how hard-working she was and how she stayed herself after all the shit she’s been through. Ellie called her cool, and Ellie didn’t call anyone cool, so Abby felt like she fucked up here too.
But the stakes weren't that high - it wasn't like they were friends in the first place - so Abby decided to make amends. She braced herself for the uncomfortable conversation and went over to Vi's locker when they were changing.
"Hey." Vi looked at her, surprised, but she didn't seem hostile, so Abby continued. "I wanted to say sorry for the other day. I was an asshole for no reason."
"Don't stress." Vi smiled. "I wasn't offended."
"Yeah well. I still said some shit. Sorry again."
"It's okay." Vi seemed to hesitate before speaking next. "(Y/n) was really upset."
"Yeah. I know." Abby nodded, trying to conceal her hurt.
"Do you plan on talking to her?" Vi asked carefully again as she put her shirt on.
"Yes."
"Cool."
It seemed like the conversation was over and Abby went back to her locker, taking her bag out and putting her sweaty uniform inside. She felt relieved after that - if this went well, maybe it will go well with you too. Vi put her things in her bag and walked to the exit while Abby was still changing, deep in her thoughts.
"Have you figured it out yet? Why you got so angry?" Vi asked cautiously, stopping right before leaving.
Abby froze, surprised, as she stared at her t-shirt.
"Was it really that obvious?"
Vi shrugged.
"Kinda. You know, the spidey sense. It's not about your looks, it's just… you can tell."
"Gay aura." Abby smirked, remembering Ellie’s words.
"Gay aura." Vi chuckled. "Good luck, Abby."
"Thanks."
And her words were genuine.
You were still pretty shaken up after the fight - not because of the fight itself or Abby’s words, but because it felt like you were hit with reality in a way that broke your stupid rose coloured glasses. And for some reason it was hard to come to terms with the fact that you overestimated yourself: how you acted based on your emotions instead of using your fucking brain - which is understandable, people lose their brains when they’re in love - and the result was the same. You weren’t planning on confessing at all, instead trying to get over Abby, and it led to the same outcome - you two weren’t talking.
You kept thinking about if you made the right choice by never bringing up the “maybe you’re not so straight” topic with Abby - maybe you should have? Just very carefully? Just nudge her in the right direction? Was it too late to do that now?
Huh, what a fun conversation it could be “hey, maybe you were so angry at me not because I made you uncomfortable in your own home but because you’re gay and jealous?” (which was in fact Cait's entire point about this fight). Even if this would go well, Abby being gay didn’t equal Abby being gay for you.
God, what if Abby would start bringing girls over once she would be out? “Thanks (y/n) for helping me figure out my sexuality, now I’m going to fuck every gay girl on campus because I’m hot as fuck and they all drool over  me”. Fuck.
At this point it was hard to differentiate between your rational thoughts and irrational thoughts: where did your concerns end and overthinking started? You felt confused and all over the place, and even though you knew the only way to fix it was to come home and face Abby, you were too much of a coward to do it.
Obviously you'd say you were sorry. And you would stop bringing girls over because she was uncomfortable with it and you weren't an asshole. But you felt like this talk would be only the cover of the real problem - this situation happened not because you were selfish (not entirely), but because you wanted to get over Abby as fast as possible. For some reason you felt like you had to tell Abby you were in love with her - otherwise you had a feeling you were taking advantage of her with the amount of touch and care that was between you. For you these hugs and cuddles and small kisses on your cheeks weren't platonic or friendly, and now when you finally admitted your defeat, you couldn't pretend it was something else.
So you had two choices: tell Abby you were in love with her and let her decide how to change her boundaries or distance yourself from her as far as possible. And if you were younger you'd probably choose the second option - it was way easier than being honest and getting rejected. But this way you'd lose her as a friend and leave both of you with hurt and anger towards each other. And Abby would probably call you out on this and you'd have to tell her what was wrong with you anyway.
So your only option was to confess and face whatever would come out of it. And it was scary.
That was the reason why instead of going home on Monday you still came back to Cait - you couldn't lie to Abby but you couldn't tell her the truth either, so, as one of the cartoon characters said, there was a third option: doing nothing. And you chose it.
Caitlyn wasn't happy with your choice, staring you down as you took your shoes off.
"You're running away from your problems."
"I'm doing nothing about my problems. There's a difference." You sighed tiredly and put your coat on the clothing rack.
Cait stared you down, frowning, but you didn’t have energy to argue with her, so you went straight for the shower. It didn’t help much with your thoughts, but the weight of your anxiety got smaller.
from: Vi
Abby just apologised to me
You stared at your phone as your feelings flooded your chest - Abby was stubborn but she was good. She was doing what was right, she fucking apologised to Vi, and here you were, too scared to face her. If Abby said sorry she felt guilty, and it meant she was hurting while you were hiding from her. You could wallow in misery all you wanted, but the thought that you were dragging Abby down with you made you feel sick. You loved her too much to let your fears hurt her.
to: Vi
How is she?
from: Vi
She got hit in the face
Three times
so
shitty
The guilt washed over you. For Abby to be this unfocused? It meant she was really worried and upset, and you needed to stop it. Fuck it if you couldn’t confess yet, but you needed to resolve this situation and stop indirectly torturing Abby.
to: Vi
Can we reschedule our lesson tomorrow?
from: Vi
Yeah no problem
You locked your phone and went over to Caitlyn, who was reading.
“I’m going home tomorrow.”
“Thank god.” Caitlyn rolled her eyes.
“She apologised to Vi.”
“Amazing.”
“By the way, can I give Vi your number?”
Caitlyn stopped reading and you noticed her pink blush. It was faint, but after years of friendship you knew what it was - you weren’t surprised, Vi was hot and Caitlyn thought she was smart, so of course your question got a reaction out of her.
“Aren’t you two involved?”
“We’re friends. If it’s a no it’s okay. I can totally see why it’d bother you.”
“It doesn’t bother me. I’m not an idiot, I’ve noticed how she looked at me.” Caitlyn was creepily observant and awfully honest. Thank god she didn’t embarrass Vi right then and there, because Cait was unhinged like that. “Give me her number, I’ll text her myself.”
“Cait, you’re terrifying.” You said honestly. “She is sweet, don’t hurt her.”
Caitlyn stared at you like you were an idiot and you just silently showed her Vi’s number so she could copy it.
Three days. It’s been three days since the fight and Abby was exhausted. She couldn’t even sleep, creeped out by the silence in your apartment, twisting and turning the whole night, and if she fell asleep she dreamt of you - either the fight played out differently (you didn’t leave and Abby confessed) or it was 100 and 1 scenario of your reunion.
But then Abby woke up and you weren’t there. She hated how quiet the place was.
At least Abby could concentrate during her classes, even though she opened her dms every 10 minutes trying to gain courage to text you. Why was it this hard? By the end of the day she chickened out and decided to text you if you wouldn’t be home today too. And for some reason Abby was sure you wouldn’t be home when she’d come from classes today. It seemed like you were still pretty mad at her - oh, that was why she was too afraid to text you. Abby - now calmed down, guilty Abby - was not prepared for your wrath if it was still there. And she’d prefer to have it fall on her in person than over a stupid text.
Abby opened the door to your apartment and froze right in the doorway. She could hear the TV from the living room, she saw the lights faintly lightning the hallway and fuck, there were your shoes.
You were home.
Abby took her shoes and her coat off in record time and stormed to the living room. You were sitting on the couch, your legs under you, and you smiled at her sheepishly, as if you weren’t sure that Abby’d be happy to see you. Abby took a deep breath as her heartbeat went absolutely crazy.
“You’re home.” Abby sighed, still so shocked she thought she was dreaming again, her bag falling from her shoulder to the floor with a thud.
“Hi.” You said in a small voice and Abby couldn’t take anymore - you were there and you were smiling at her and she missed you so fucking much.
Abby almost ran to you, scooping you in her arms as you yelped in surprise - fucking hell Abby was strong to pull you up like that.
“You’re home.” Abby murmured into your neck, breathing you in, the same spice and mint as always. You hugged her shoulders and breathed her in too - you missed her crazy. Abby was solid against you and her hand on the small of your back kept you pressed into her as if she was afraid you’d disappear. You clung to her, as you became aware how much you missed her warmth - how did you survive these three days without Abby?
“I’m sorry, I was so selfish.” You told Abby while she pressed you flush against her.
“God, I’m so sorry too, I didn’t mean a word of what I’ve said to you.” Abby said into your hair, her voice soft and quiet and full of remorse. You hummed, comforted by her arms around you, her blonde hair tickling your nose. Abby smelt like home, like someone who would protect you from anything and whatever she said to you on Saturday didn’t matter anymore.
Abby inhaled your scent and closed her eyes, basking in you. She physically couldn't let you go now when she's got you, knowing now why it felt so good to hold you and not being ashamed or anxious about it. Fuck. To hell with it, Abby's never been a coward.
"I figured my shit out." Abby's voice was steady, but her heart sounded like drums in her ears.
"What do you mean?" And your heart was not any better.
"You told me to figure my shit out. I did. I wasn't angry because you were disturbing me or something." Abby pressed you even closer, grounding herself in your presence. "I was jealous."
It was suddenly hard to breathe and you froze in Abby's arms. Did she mean what you thought she meant? God, please, let it be what you so desperately wanted it to be.
Abby moved away a little so she could look at you, because if Abby would get her heart broken now she at least could get it broken looking into your eyes.
"I like you." Abby breathed out and the wave of painful relief hit her. It was good to let it out, as if someone cut open an aching injury and yeah, she was bleeding, but it felt better.
Your brain fully shut down as your ears rang from her words - was it even real? Was it your Abby or another dream? But it was real, and Abby was looking at you, she was waiting for an answer and your own confession ripped out from your chest before you could stop yourself.
"I like you too." You felt your face heat up for some reason, but the way Abby’s eyes lit up made it all worth it.
Abby's eyes grew wide with surprise just before all her restraints crumbled. She took your face in her hands and did what she was literally dreaming about the past few nights - she kissed you. And everything exploded.
Your hands flew to Abby's face and you kissed her back desperately, pressing into her with all you had. Abby locked her arms around your waist so hard your back arched, she needed you close as badly as you needed her.
Abby never felt like this, like every move of your lips on hers set her alight and the hunger she never had before was suddenly making her greedy and desperate to touch you. As if under a spell, Abby pushed you to the couch until you hit it with the back of your knees and sat down so Abby could press you into the seat as you opened your mouth and let her tongue slip inside, making you both groan. Abby felt high from kissing you, the way you were all soft and gentle under her, but not delicate at all, she wasn’t afraid to hurt you because you were real and solid and your fingers on her neck were warm.
And it wasn't enough for Abby, she needed more, she needed to touch your bare skin - so she pushed her hand under your hoodie, kneading your side. You were warm and soft and your scent was all around her, and it was still not enough. She wanted to hear you make the same noise that you made that night for someone else - she wanted you to sigh and whimper and moan for her, she wanted to-
You pressed on her shoulders and Abby backed off, confused.
"We need to slow down." You panted, looking into Abby’s shiny eyes. She was blushing and panting as well, her hand was still on your naked waist, riding up your hoodie enough for her to see your lower stomach. Abby’s eyes went dark as she flicked her eyes from your face to your stomach and back.
"Yeah."
You both didn't move, staring at each other. Abby didn’t want to stop, she wanted to kiss you and touch you and if someone would move away first it would definitely not be her. And then you kissed Abby again, bringing her as close as possible, giving up on any rational thought in your head. You were weak, so when Abby pushed you down on the couch you happily spread your legs for her, getting wet in your pants from how delicious it felt to be opened like that. Abby’s hands roamed across your sides and your hips, groping and kneading your body as if she couldn’t get enough - and she truly couldn’t, appreciating every soft fold she made, every hard ridge digging into her palm. You sighed into her mouth and Abby just needed to press you down into this couch, moving one of her hands to caress your thigh and pull you closer. You felt dizzy, high on Abby's confident, hungry touch, the perfect balance of gentle and rough, so deliciously Abby. No one could touch you like that, like you were hers, your body and your soul, without a hesitation. Abby took what she wanted and you drank it all up.
Abby kissed your jaw and moved down to your neck, leaving an open mouthed kiss just below your ear and you let out a surprised sigh - and Abby’s brain fucking melted. She left more kisses, all shamelessly open, her hot tongue brushing over your skin just to hear you sigh like that. Abby pushed your thighs up so you could close them around her waist and slipped her hand back under your hoodie, getting dangerously close to your tits. That broke the spell on you, bringing you back to reality.
“Abby, wait.” You asked, not comfortable with how fast it was going. Abby looked up to you, waiting for what you wanted to tell her. “We really need to chill.” You caressed her cheek, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down.
Abby wanted to protest, but the horny fog started leaving her head and she understood how overboard she went just now, jumping you like this the moment you reciprocated her feelings. It was too fast.
“Yeah, you’re right.” Abby chuckled and tried to move away, but you didn’t let her, pressing her back to you.
“Just.. lie down.”
Abby listened to you, her hands still under your hoodie, but now she was just caressing your sides gently with her thumbs, sending goosebumps.
“I’ve missed you so much.” You told her as you stroke her hair.
“I’ve missed you too. The worst three days of my life.”
You laughed quietly.
“How did you figure it out?” You asked, curious. Abby sighed, but you waited.
“Oh man, this is embarrassing. I thought I was homophobic, because I hated that you were bringing girls over. Talked to Ellie, figured out I was homophobic to myself.” Abby laughed, and even though you could see the comedy in her words, you couldn't imagine what she had to go through.
“This is such a mind-fuckery.” You said sympathetically. “It must’ve felt so good to realise that.”
“It was. And then I saw you with Vi and what happened happened.”
“Oh god this is fast. Like, did you even have the time to properly process that?”
“Three days with myself would do.” Abby chuckled and you felt the guilt poking your heart.
“Sorry. I felt like I couldn’t just say sorry and move on without telling you about my feelings. But I was scared.” You admitted and Abby hummed, seeing your point. It must've been more scary for you as you knew what was happening in your head and the time turned your fear into full blown terror.  
"How long have you known?"
"That I like you? Pretty much from the beginning, but I tried really hard to stop it."
Abby laughed and you tilted your head to look at her, not understanding what was so funny.
"Remember when we hung out for the first time? When we watched that horror movie that offended you so much?"
"Yeah?"
"I was very confused why you were so far away from me. I was already into you by that point."
"I can't imagine what kind of mental somersaults you had to do to keep it hidden from yourself." You sighed and hugged her harder. “I’m very happy you’re free of the straight curse.”
Abby snorted and looked up to you, just staring, unashamed - everything about you was perfect.
“You’re so pretty.” God it felt good to say it freely, say it without shame, without broken syllables and mumbling.
You smiled and looked away, flustered, and Abby watched you with fascination - she’s never seen you like this.
“Thanks.” You tried to stop smiling but you couldn’t, and Abby’s curious and teasing gaze just made you smile more. “No, stop it.” You said, playfully stern.
“Nah, I’ll do it even more now. Seeing you crumble like this is even better than kicking your ass in Mortal Kombat.”
“Oh yeah? I still cook your food.” You threatened.
Before Abby could answer her stomach rumbled and you laughed.
“Let’s go eat.”
And everything was back to normal, but it also wasn’t. You chatted, catching up on these days you spent apart, telling each other the last gossip and complaining about classes - that was normal. But now Abby could hug you from behind and steal a kiss, her high making her bold, and you could abandon whatever you had on the stove and wrap your arms around her neck, kissing her back. Because now you didn’t have to hide from each other, second-guessing motives and actions. Now when you ate and talked you could hold hands and smile bashfully at each other, and the teasing could end in millions of short kisses. You finally let yourself hug Abby from behind while she washed the dishes and tell her what was happening with Caitlyn and Vi.  
Later you did your usual cuddle time, and Abby held you in her arms exactly like she wanted to. A few months ago you both sat on that couch - awkward and distant, too afraid of each other - to watch a movie, and now you were lying on it, kissing and cuddling, basking in each other as you gently and innocently explored what was an unattainable dream before, caressing sides and hips and ribs without heat but with a desire to get to know.
Abby swore she started to believe in magic when you touched her.
to: els
(the photo of you and Abby, Abby kissing the top of your head while you lie on top of her with the dopiest, lovesick grin on your face)
from: els
FUCK YEAH
you lucky bitch
You laughed when Abby showed you Ellie's texts and nuzzled into Abby's chest.
"Let's do a sleepover today." Abby said as she kissed your temple.
"Where?"
"In my bed."
470 notes · View notes
forever-rogue · 1 year
Note
ok so maybe Steve's at work doing his nurse thing when who shows up in the emergency room and didn't even call to tell him that she was hurt? his favorite girl, that's who.
hmm?
Tumblr media
AN | More Nurse Steeb!🥺🥺 This can be read as a companion piece to this, but also as a stand alone!
Warnings | Mild Language
Pairing | Nurse!Steve x Fem!Reader
Word Count | 2k
Masterlist | Nurse Steve, Steve, Main
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
You were dreading this moment. You really, really didn't want to be here. The temptation to just turn and run away was so high. It would have been so easy to just leave and go home…but the shooting pain in your arm told you that was an even worse idea.
The hospital was big…so maybe you wouldn't see him at all. Right? Right. Or that's what you were hoping for. The odds really were slim to none and yet… Maybe you didn't even need to go to the ER. Maybe you could just call and schedule a regular appointment with your doctor…
"Fuck," you sighed heavily as you looked between the entrance and your car. You had to do it. There was no way you could get out of this one.
Trying to collect your remaining dignity, you walked into the hospital and up to the counter. The woman behind the screen looked at you for a moment, recognizing you but not quite placing it.
"I-I think I did something to my elbow," you explained, tears already welling up and threatening to run down your cheeks, "I fell and it's stuck at this weird angle and I couldn't move it. Every time I try it hurts so bad."
She peeks over the counter before noticing the odd placement of your left elbow, "oh dear. Well, we'll get you right in with the doctor. First, let me get your name please."
You nodded and told her your first name and hesitated for a moment. She waited for you to go on and you sighed before giving her your last name, "Harrington."
And…realization hit her. She knew exactly who you were. You, him, and the disgustingly cute story of how you'd met in that very ER were well known around the hospital. You gave her a sheepish smile as she scribbled a few things down, "go ahead and take a seat. I've got everything here, honey."
"Thank you," the older woman's gentleness already made you feel better, despite your current predicament, "and umm…could we not tell him yet? Or at least don't put me in his wing?"
"I'll do my best," she promised with a knowing wink. You nodded softly before padding over to one of the stiff plastic chairs, careful not to irritate your arm further. 
A heavy, tired sigh escaped your lips as you closed your eyes for a few moments of solace from the piercing fluorescence of the hospital lights. A dumb little part of your brain even dreamed that maybe you'd get home without him knowing anything.
Doubtful.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
"Well," the doctor, an older man with a calm aura - which did nothing to help your nerves - was almost silent as looked over your x-rays and studied the findings, "you've got yourself a dislocated elbow."
"No," you groaned as you looked at the ceiling. How could you be this clumsy and unlucky?
"Yes," he pointed at your arm, still stuck at an awkward angle as if to prove his point, "and that is nothing to scoff at."
"Umm, how do I fix it?" you asked softly, trying to ignore the throbbing, "can it be fixed?"
“Oh yes,” he seemed unphased by your question, as your panic had increased, “most of the time it can be corrected without surgery-”
“Without? S-so you mean you there’s a chance I would need surgery?” your lip trembled with effort as you tried to cry, “what are the odds?”
“The first thing I’m going to do is to try and set it back into place and then we’ll immobilize the arm for now,” he looked up at you for a moment and saw the distressed look on your features, “meaning you’ll be in a sling for some time. It’s imperative that you keep as still as possible for now. In a few weeks we’ll see how it’s setting and how your range of movement is. And onto physical therapy.”
“Physical therapy?” alright. This had to be some sort of cosmic joke. The last time you were in the ER was when you’d broken your ankle a few years ago. That had almost ended up with surgery and absolutely had required physical therapy, “oh.”
“It’ll be okay, Mrs. Harrington,” he insisted, “I’ve seen these before and while inconvenient, rest assured you’ll make a full recovery.”
“I-”
“I’ll send in the nurse and have them set you up with a sling and the dos and don’ts and talk to you about painkillers,” he gave you a pat on the opposite shoulder, “I’ll see you back in about two weeks. Any questions you have the nurse will be able to answer.”
“Okay,” you nodded and slumped your shoulders as you watched him go. Steve was going to lose his mind when he saw you, “fuck me.”
After a few minutes of terse silence, a few gentle knocks came at the door. You confirmed they could come in and regretted your decision as soon as you did. It wasn’t just any nurse that happened to be assigned to you. It was your husband.
“Steve?”
“Baby?”
“I-” he’d all but dropped your charts and came over to you, his hands finding your face as he studied you. He’d read over your chart to read the doctor’s diagnosis, but had neglected to read the name. Otherwise he would have known it was you. As soon as you looked in those big, soft eyes all the unshed tears rolled down your cheeks, “I-I fell.”
“Honey,” he closed his eyes and let out a small sigh, whether of stress or relief you weren’t sure. He tenderly brushed away your tears before placing a kiss to your forehead, “it’s okay. I know it hurts, but don’t cry…please. I’ll take care of you. I’ll make it better.”
“It hurts so bad, Stevie,” you wanted nothing but for him to wrap you up in his arms, but were also terrified of hurting your arm further, “I’m so stupid, ‘m sorry.”
“You’re not stupid and there’s nothing to be sorry for,” he gently shushed by putting a finger to your lips, “I’m glad you came in, okay? I know how stubborn you can get, my clumsy girl. But I’m here to take care of you.”
“I asked them not to send you,” you sniffled, laughing ever so softly as he shook his head in amusement. He tutted, but it was nothing but warm and affectionate, “didn’t want you to worry or panic.”
“It is my job to take care of you,” he insisted softly, “both here in a professional capacity and everywhere else as your husband and best friend. Will you tell me what happened, angel? How did you hurt yourself so badly?”
“You’re gonna laugh,” a pout settled on your pretty, soft lips and he couldn’t help but press a kiss to them, “it’s silly.”
“I won’t laugh,” he promised, “scout’s honor.”
“You were never a boy scout, Steve.”
“Still counts.”
“Does not-”
“You’re stalling,” he insisted, already guessing your little ployl, “just tell me what happened, baby.”
“I was in the backyard and I went to move one of the lounge chairs off the deck and one thing led to another and I lost my footing and slipped and tried to stop my fall with my hand and then hit my elbow and the thing I knew it was lots of pain and I couldn’t move my lower arm,” you replayed the events in your head and silently cringed at yourself, “and I came here.”
You looked up and found Steve’s brows knitted together as he kept his eyes on your chart. He was silent, but then you could see the subtle shake of his shoulders. You used your good hand and slapped his arm, “Steve Harrington, you’re laughing! Don’t laugh at me, you said you wouldn’t!”
“Honey, honey, honey,” he took your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze, “I’m not laughing at you…I’m just amused by the situation.”
“You wouldn’t be laughing at another patient!”
“Other patients aren’t my wife,” he put a finger under your chin and turned your face up to meet his, “and I love you more than anything, so it’s affectionate teasing.”
“You’re lucky I love you,” you huffed, but there was no malice behind your voice, “now make it better…please.”
“I will,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “I promise I’ll make it better, sweetheart.”
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
“Ugh,” you sighed for what felt like the millionth time as you tried to move around to get comfortable. You were exhausted - tired and worn out from your accident and the excitement of the day, but sleep had proven to be elusive. The worst part of all, there were only certain ways you could lie down to keep your arm still and without causing too much pain. None of the positions were working. Steve was lying in bed next to you, attempting to read but you were sure he wasn’t doing much reading from all your huffing and puffing. You turned your head and gave him an apologetic look, “sorry Stevie.”
“It’s okay,” he promised as he dog-eared his page and snapped his book shut, setting it on the nightstand, “I know it’s difficult to adjust to, baby. Let me try and help.”
“This sucks,” you huffed before looking over at him, both of you breaking into a fit of giggles, “I’m never doing anything else again for myself. It’s proven to be a bad idea.”
“I’d say the broken ankle worked out pretty well,” he grinned as you looked at him in confusion, “more or less. I got to meet the girl of my dreams right there in the ER.”
“And to think, if I hadn’t broken my ankle we’d have never met,” you said, touching his cheek with your good hand and giving him a soft smile, “the injury sucked, but the man I got out of it is pretty amazing.”
“Who knows,” he shrugged with a small smile, “maybe something good will come out of this too. You’ll just have to get better first. That means listening to me and taking it easy and -”
“Asking for help,” you finished softly, “I will, Steve. I will. But I have a request for when this mess is all healed…”
“Go on, I’m curious now…”
“Can we get a dog?” you asked with wide, curious eyes as his face softened. Of course you would use this for something like this. Truth was, he wanted a dog too, but it just never had been the right time, maybe now that dream would come true, “pretty please, Stevie?”
“We’ll see,” he promised and you could tell what he meant, which only caused your smile to grow, “we’re focusing on you first.”
“Fine,” you agreed happily, “but right now I just want to sleep.”
“C’mere,” he got out of bed and came over to your side, gently helping to move to the side he occupied just moments earlier. It was warm and smelled like him, which was immediately comforting. He adjusted your pillows and fluffed them, making it so you could lie on your side, but keeping your elbow propped up so you wouldn’t jostle or hurt it, “better?”
“Much,” you agreed as he slid into bed next to you, “and now I can sleep facing you. That makes me feel better.”
“Me too,” he promised softly, “plus, the view’s pretty fucking stunning.”
“Steve,” you playfully chided him, “I look and feel like a mess!”
“A beautiful, wonderful, amazing mess,” he joked, “that I love so very much. I promise it’ll be okay, angel. I’ll take care of you, yeah?”
“Yeah,” you leaned in as much as you could and he met you halfway, kissing you softly and gently, “I love you so much, Steve Harrington. You’re my savior, I swear.”
“I love you, clumsy girl,” he whispered against your lips, “I’ll always take care of you. I swear it.”
2K notes · View notes
girlbossblackbeard · 6 months
Text
S2 TRAILER ANALYSIS WITH 1 BILLION SCREENSHOTS
obligatory warning that this post is gonna be SOOOOOOOOOOOOO foolishly long and rambling with all my silly little theories and thoughts and if you ALSO have silly little theories and thoughts you should ABSOLUTELY share them here please!!!! we can clown so much harder when our cacophonous honking harmonizes!!!!!!!
NOW ONTO THE POST (putting it under a read more so tumblr doesn't literally explode):
-the revenge looks BUSTED AF: i don't know if this is from general disrepair when ed is in his kraken era or if she was in a battle but her sails are all dirty in the opening shot of the trailer, and later we see stede on her deck with tattered sails and ropes everywhere, AND i'm like 99% sure that the shot of buttons ziplining from one ship to another is him going from the Chinese warfleet ship to the revenge, which i'm guessing is essentially stuck bc the sails are so torn they would never be able to catch the wind strongly enough to move her. I also wonder if the shot of roach shooting a canon at something is him shooting a canon at her since we had all those allusions to her exploding from samba, vico, and david on twitter all those months ago
Tumblr media
-stede's earring: he DOES NOT HAVE THE EARRING when we see him lying on the deck next to roach and sighing dramatically nor does he have it during his conversation with Olu about stede dumping him, but he DOES have the earring in later shots like the beach english fight and when he's talking about being a failure his whole life which means WE WILL GET TO SEE STEDE GET HIS EAR PIERCED!!!!!!!!!! we'll get to see him make the decision to look even hotter and who knows who does the piercing for him idk!!!!!! @sluterastede had a dastardly beautiful thought in her brain about ed giving stede the piercing and stede making groaning noises and izzy once again thinking they're flapping their jacks right there on the deck in front of god and everybody!!!!!
Tumblr media
-stede is spilling his heart out ("i let him down. i should've just told him how i feel") to susan on her ship (you can tell it's her by the long hair)
Tumblr media
-interesting that there's a drawing of a donkey next to ed's wanted poster considering s1 had the line "a rich donkey is still a donkey". also i can't really read what the surrounding posters say other than "WANTED 20 GUINEAS". is this in the republic of pirates?
Tumblr media
-stede says "i will find him" meaning ed may be actively avoiding stede at the beginning of the season???? (or the basic laws of travel physics have finally caught up to them)
-"look, captain, you know blackbeard's gonna murder you" i just think it's interesting that Olu is referring to him as blackbeard again even though ed told everyone in his pink robe era to call him ed. like it makes sense that he'd say blackbeard considering ed is on a rampage but it just made my brain wheels start spinning
-the Kraken crew are eating cake :)
Tumblr media
-ed is holding a torch while letting the storm rain down on him: i don't think the laugh we hear is his because i don't think his mouth is even open during that slow-mo shot
Tumblr media
-STEDE with a TEAR in his EYE as he says "i think i hurt him pretty bad"
Tumblr media
-ed sobbing on the floor while the little bride cake topper is next to his head
Tumblr media
-ed choking on the weed smoke i'm ACTUALLY crying, but also: where the fuck is ed when he's sitting in the chair smoking??? i thought it was on deck at first bc above his head is really dark and it looks like the lanterns we see on the deck of the revenge but there's a chandelier too?? it might be whatever shop Anne Bonny and her friend "you two know each other?" run bc behind ed in that chair is just a bunch of random furniture and a chandelier like we see when ed and stede are at the market. in fact, i think ed is smoking with Anne Bonny because I think that's her hand in the corner of that shot:
Tumblr media
-"no more booze, no more drugs, and no more _____" not sure what the end of that sentence could be but we know that the "stede" that was put in there is NOT what he actually says!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
-"you two know each other?" now hold on a sec because it kinda sounds like stede met Anne Bonny and Co. separately from Ed/before that market scene (maybe in the teaser clip of Anne on Stede's lap??) WHAT IF WE GET THE AITA SCENARIO WHERE ED AND STEDE TELL PEOPLE ABOUT THEIR VERSION OF EVENTS AND NO ONE REALIZES THEY'RE TALKING ABOUT EACH OTHER UNTIL THAT MOMENT BC THEY'RE BOTH SO BIASED ABOUT ONE ANOTHER
-the evil guy definitely got his nose sliced off by Jackie. good for her :D I also don't think the evil guy is Hornigold, i'm still holding onto my theory that the man in the white rags we saw in the teaser and this trailer is hornigold's "ghost" that ed needs to contend with to find his inner peace or whatever a la stede with nigel's "ghost". but i DO think the evil guy is the rich prince dude from that leaked audition tape from rhys's friend. if memory serves, the guy wants to buy his way into the pirate lifestyle but he's pompous and entitled which makes him reckless. based off the production stills we also got today, he still had a nose when he went into Spanish Jackie's...but i don't think he leaves with one. so because he gets butthurt over invading a space that was NOT meant for him and faces the consequences of purposely disobeying their customs, he defects to the english navy and goes on a rampage against all piracy, very MRA energy :/ also, later izzy says to him "you don't know the first thing about piracy" which would further support that this guy just tried to buy his way in
Tumblr media
-izzy gets an honest-to-god pegleg but he doesn't start the season off with it because we see him in several shots with both legs, like the wedding raid and swordfighting stede on the beach. unsure if he loses it due to infection from the toe situation or if he gets shot in the knee like i've seen some posts talk about, but @sluterastede mentioned that one of the leaked audition tapes for archie included dialogue about an amputation so maybe that character has to uh. Get Her Roach On
Tumblr media
-as i mentioned before with the teaser analysis, izzy is clearly training stede for something and now im guessing it's the english but like we kinda knew that !
-olu is in a bar fight??
Tumblr media
-THE "ED GETS CAUGHT IN A BUCKET ON A ROPE DURING THE STORM AND GOES OVERBOARD" THEORY IS OUT. THE "ED TIES HIMSELF TO A MF BIG ASS ROCK AND JUMPS OFF A GOD DAMN CLIFF TO GO ON SOME SOUL-SEARCHING JOURNEY UNDER THE SEA" THEORY IS IN. and what the FUCK is the rag man doing with ed up on that cliff hello?????? if my theory is correct and that is in fact hornigold's ghost or whatever, what advice or harmful shit is he saying that makes ed do that?????????????????????? but do note the large rock with the rope around it in the first pic
Tumblr media
-the revenge crew is blowing up SOMETHING on the side of a building. maybe to cause a distraction or gain access inside the building? is it the side of Spanish Jackie's?? also hiiiiiiii lucius <3
Tumblr media
-"our entire escape relies on this" i'm just assuming they're trying to escape from the english bc that seems to be the Big Bad of the season??
-not plot related but during the rope swinging training session izzy slaps stede on the ass and makes this face (sir??????):
Tumblr media
>he also has his pegleg here so their mentorship may ramp up after izzy is out of commission for hand-to-hand combat. maybe izzy was supposed to have a larger fighting role alongside ed in defeating the english but once he became incapacitated he realized he would need to train someone else up for the job so ed would be sufficiently protected. but it also had to be someone izzy knew would be willing to die for ed to save his life if it came to that, just like izzy would
-"i've been a failure my whole life. it's not so bad once you get used to it" is stede talking to ed here? is that ed's hair in the corner of the frame??
Tumblr media
>side note: as mentioned above, stede also has his earring by this point!!
-"you're going through that 'if i was a regular dude' phase" first of all, SPANISH JACKIE AND EDWARD TEACH BEST FRIENDS TRUTHERS RISE UP. second, why would ed be considered a regular dude now?? how did he lose his reputation? did he willingly give it up or was it taken from him? is this permanent or just temporary? or did he fake his own death with the cliff and the rock thing so he could retire and live a more normal life?? the swede doesn't seem scared of him at all in the final clip from the trailer, straight up asking him if he's poor and going "back to basics". of course, that could just be a power trip from being one of Jackie's newest husbands (or at least her waitstaff)
Tumblr media
-possibly totally minor/just a continuity error thing, but: ed has a red ring. we saw it in s1 as he picks up the rather fine cashmere and we see it as ed dramatically drapes himself across the ship's helm with his head on his hand. we do not see it in the scene where he's smoking (see above) or the scene where he's talking to the rabbit. now, if you'll allow me a little bit of clownery for a moment, red has been explicitly coded in this show to be a symbol of love/the heart, especially as it pertains to edward like his red silk scarf as a metaphor for his heart in s1. what if. what if he. gave the red ring (his heart) to. SomeOne. because.....................because his heart belongs to st--[GUNSHOTS]
Tumblr media
-olu, jim, and archie with garlic around their necks and making a cross with their fingers - clearly they think someone is a vampire on the ship. @sluterastede proposed it could be izzy, especially if he's on the brink of death due to an infection and frenchie managed to spread his superstitions to other people on the ship!
Tumblr media
-THIS FUCKIN GUY. WHO ARE YOU??? it seems like he kidnaps stede and his crew and throws a party on the ship and drugs the drinks which is why everyone is kinda tripping/laughing in some parts. but then everyone gets tied down (stede to the mast, wee john's hands get squished, olu and roach's heads get squished, and jim and archie's feet get secured to the ship's railing i think??). also that wide shot is definitely the rando dude hitting some shrill high note at the same moment the revenge crew cry out in pain from all the squishing (except maybe jim and archie - they might just be laughing at the others bc they're badasses and this pain is nothing). also don't know what the guy is looking at when we first see him but im thinking maybe it's a wanted poster of stede and he's looking at the description of the gentleman pirate to confirm it's the dude right in front of him/that he's captured?? also i think roach is wearing flowers from the drug party in his apron when he fires that canon, so maybe he's tripping too and shoots a canon?? i need a prayer circle for the revenge's safety at this time
Tumblr media
-stede has a bullet hole???????????????? did ed fucking shoot him in the heart?????????????????????????? he also notably does NOT have the earring in this scene but he does have the sexy stiddies (blue) shirt like we see in the other shot where he DOES have the earring. maybe this weirdo dude pierces stede's ear bc he thinks stede needs to look more piratey?? or stede gets absolutely sloshed (or drugged) and gets his ear pierced idk !!! maybe jim does it bc they're effortlessly cool and has a bunch of ear piercings!!!
Tumblr media
-idk if this is a coincidence or not but i'm pretty sure stede in his training scenes with izzy is wearing the clothes he wore in that final shot of s1 as he rows to find the crew on the island (white linen shirt, dark pants, brown belt and boots). so either costume changes are happening later in the season, they're reusing outfits like normal people do, or the training montage happens extremely early on in the season
-so originally with the teaser trailer i thought ed falling in the water was followed by the shot of ed coming out of the water on the beach. i don't know if i fully believe that anymore because ed is NOT wearing his jacket on the cliff (see above), but he IS wearing it as he comes up out of the water, so either it's two different events and ed just spends a lot of time in the water this season or he puts his jacket on before jumping off the cliff
Tumblr media
-ed his holding his right side as he slashes that dude on the beach so he definitely got hurt in battle but i hope it's not him getting stabbed bc ur supposed to cleverly take the sword on the left where all the unimportant bits are :(((
Tumblr media
-I VERY STRONGLY BELIEVE that the person in the scene where stede turns around and shoots his gun into the air and everyone else on deck suddenly draws their weapons against that person is our boy lucius!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he's wearing a beret?????????? @sluterastede proposed that lucius got picked up by the english navy after getting thrown overboard and that's why we see him in the english navy garb (which we later see frenchie in too?? i believe an infiltration fuckery is afoot). also the fact that the shot immediately after this one is of Black Pete doing a happy little fist pump which i'm choosing to interpret as a cute little easter egg symbolizing Pete gets reunited with his love. i also also also believe lucius is in the shot of buttons about to zipline from one ship to the other. i missed him :')
Tumblr media
-okay i know i said in an earlier post that stede running across the beach was romantic but i changed my mind and i think izzy is just making stede do cardio as part of his training lol. his outfit matches the one he's wearing when swordfighting izzy in that earlier wideshot and i think he even still has the scarf belt and the full beard in both scenes (explained at the end of this post via production stills) so maybe they have an honest to god training montage that takes course over several days and we get an incredible 80s powerballad to play on top of it while stede thinks of ed to motivate him or whatever. david jenkins hire me to help write season 3 i have ideas
-i think jim is behind stede as he breaks into the weirdly religious room we saw in the teaser when stede punches that guy??
-ed is pretty bloodied in the shot of stede leaning over him and saying VERY worriedly "ed????" so my theory is that ed got hurt in battle or he was taken captive by the Chinese warfleet and stede was worried he was grievously injured. however, once ed comes to and realizes who's kneeling over him, he gets pissed and headbutts stede because he's still mad at him for breaking his heart, and maybe his hands are restrained/his body is too weak so he can't push stede away. or maybe they had to begrudgingly work together on some mission and stede fucked it up and ed got hurt so he's mad about that idk!! ALSO HE'S WEARING THE CRAVAT HELLO
Tumblr media
-ed in buttons's shirt looking so PEACEFUL what the HELL. obviously it's from the same general time as him being in Spanish Jackie's when she's talking to him about being a regular dude and later when the swede asks him if he's poor addkjfajdfhlkefh i fucking love this show and its writing so much. but ed says "no, i'm just trying something different man >:/" so i wonder if this is ed at the end of s2 or if this is more towards the middle as he's still in the thick of his healing journey. maybe buttons teaches ed about meditation and/or the tai chi he practiced with the Chinese warfleet crew??
Tumblr media
-the BTS production still of ed with his "trust no one" tattoo also features what i believe is the treasure chest we see jim carrying off the ship in the shot where fang is smashing two dudes' heads together!
Tumblr media
-i also think the BTS production still of stede with the beard is early on in ep 1 because he has a full beard (that im hoping someone on the revenge bullies him into shaving off to the scruff we see in the rest of the promo materials) and ALSO because he's wearing a long red scarf around his waist, which we never see again in any of the other promo material - except, however, around his neck as a makeshift cravat:
Tumblr media
>it's the same exact material and everything! my guess is he gets his ass handed to him in a fight (maybe against izzy??) and his scarf belt gets destroyed, so he repurposes the shredded fabric into his necktie
-there's literal gold bars in the background of this production still lmao the kraken crew got BUSY during ed's goth era
Tumblr media
>speaking of, the fucking hair dye dripping down izzy's forehead in this production still:
Tumblr media
*sad clown noises*
in conclusion:
WE'RE BACK BABEYYYYYYYYYYYYYY
anyway that's my second dissertation on less than 2 minutes of content that turned out to be quite literally 6 pages long :)
364 notes · View notes
yaekiss · 10 months
Note
no thoughts just dragon dan heng in heat being horny 24/7. like you'll have to physically DRAG this man off your dick so he doesn't kill you of exhaustion. i will take my leave now
Tumblr media
꩜ Room Content: Dom! Top! AMAB! Reader x Sub! Bottom! IL Dan Heng, no gendered terms for reader, mentions of IL Dan Heng having 2 dicks, breeding kink, mating press, lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ A/N: ANON UR BRAINNNNNN, this brainrot plagued me for like a week as evident from this other ramble I wrote for Dan Heng orz... THE GRIP THIS MAN HAS ON MY BRAIN (and my dick) !! KEEP UR IDEAS COMING ANON (just like how Dan Heng keeps you coming in him I MEAN WHATTT)
Tumblr media
Under the influence of his heat, Dan Heng is near insatiable.
You can always tell when his heat is coming up with the way he’s constantly trying to rile you up. Trailing a hand up your thigh under the table when you sit next to him in the parlor car, sinfully whispering about how he needs you inside him right nowwww! He becomes increasingly clingy, dragging you off to his room to cuddle and wrap his tail around you like he’s trying to press every inch of him onto your skin. It’s not surprising if the cuddle session turns a little more heated when he tries to rut against your thigh as he crams his face into the crook of your neck to inhale your scent. 
If you thought he was bad before his heat, you’re ill-prepared for the whore he becomes during his heats. Really, it’s as if he can’t live without your dick inside him 24/7, always whining and begging, close to tears when you need to stop and pull out of him to catch your breath. Normally, Dan Heng wouldn’t behave like this. However, one must not underestimate the neediness of a dragon in heat. Need to go shower? It’s ok you can fuck him in the shower, he can suck you off as he kneels on the tiled floor. Need go to the kitchen to grab something to eat? He’s following you and spreading his ass so you can eat him out. Huh, that’s not what you meant??
“Let’s go for hhah… one muh- more round, please [name]!”
It’s a little ridiculous how slutty he gets, all the knowledge he’s gained from the erotica he secretly reads every time he misses you at night is finally getting put to good use. He wants you to fuck him in every position possible but he absolutely loves it when you manhandle him into a mating press, the feeling of you reaching unthinkably deep in him gets him all shaky with lust. The searing grip you have on the back of his thighs as you push his knees up to his shoulders combined with how your length slides into his warm hole has him giddy with pleasure. He’s purring loudly at how your cock hits all the right spots in him and his tail is flicking wildly on the bed. Stuffing him full of your cum isn’t enough, he needs to get bred. 
“Hnngh! You ff- fuck! -feel so sososo good in mE!! Breed me breed me pleaseplease [naME]!”
Nothing is stopping him from wringing out every single drop of cum from you, if you tire easily, no problem, he’ll just ride you! As much as you’d like to complain, the sight above you is fucking gorgeous. Dan Heng has his head thrown back in pure ecstasy, his makeup is smudged, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he moans and cries. When he bounces on your cock, his own dicks slap up against his tummy and he whimpers so beautifully at the added stimulation. His walls clamp down hard on your length to try to milk you for all you’re worth. He doesn’t have to worry about not being able to walk tomorrow because as far as he knows, the two of you will be fucking alllll week! (Dan Heng’s line of reasoning is: No need to walk if all you’re gonna do is fuck uncontrollably like bunnies!)
He only has one thing on his mind: getting bred by you ♡
Tumblr media
Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡
472 notes · View notes
elliesflower · 10 months
Text
what's love? [ellie williams]
Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing; ellie x gn!reader
cw; angst, ellie and reader in a situationship(kinda), post-golf incident (joel mentioned), slightly au (still set in jackson, ellie never went to seattle), ellie doesn't open up ab her feelings :(
an; hello! first off, rest easy to one of the greatest to ever do it, miss tina herself. while listening to her today i felt like this song was very ellie-coded tbh nd i haven't been great lately nd just wanted to throw something angsty together for my baby girl :( (i know the song's vibe doesn't necessarily match the story's vibe but i'm meaning more the lyrics). also this is more from ellie's pov so reader is gn and has absolutely no physical descriptors!!
no smut, but like all my content please 18+ only, mdni!!!
Three little words. 
One big problem. 
What is it?
“Is this the end?” 
No, not those ones. It was something else, painful, and always dancing at the tip of her tongue, making tiny beads of sweat prick at her palms and a ball of trepidation sink to the pit of her stomach. They were cursed words, seldom given thought, and never spoken aloud. The underlying topic of ninety percent of all songs ever written, and movies produced—it was cruel, really, how there was no escaping it. 
“This can’t be the end…” 
Vision blurred by the thoughts of a thousand demons, Ellie muttered back into the void. 
“It’s not,” and her voice was so quiet, it very well could have been the wind pestering the trees outside her window. 
“It’s not…?”
Oh. Right. 
Movie. 
Your legs shifted under the shared blanket, and Ellie’s eyes refocused onto your folded hands in your lap. 
“Is there a second movie, or something?” Your voice was trembling only slightly, the emotional turmoil of the last twenty minutes of the movie lacing your words. 
Ellie shook her head again, as if it would shake her brain right out. She couldn’t help but to feel bad, having practically abandoned the movie as she stewed in her own emotions. There were so many of them, fighting to get out, clawing her insides every time she looked at your face for too long.
“Sorry,” she could blame her watery eyes on the movie. Push aside her feelings. Again. “No, there’s no second one. I wish there was, though.”
Ellie wasn’t much like an open book. Or, I guess she was a very specific kind of book. That one you fell in love with based on the dust jacket description, with her complex words and inexplicit detail, but every time you’d pull it down to read, something stopped you. Life gets in the way. You’d tried and tried, oh god have you tried, to open her up; to wear her down, pressing on her spine and dog-earing her pages, keeping her infrequent tipsy confessions and three-am sleep deprived rants in the back of your mind like a filing cabinet. Pushing, but never pressuring. Ellie didn’t like pressure. 
“S’okay,” your voice was always soft with her. Couldn’t be loud, couldn’t scare her away, because Ellie Williams could fucking run. Away from her problems, as fast as her legs could carry her and as far as her heart would let her. Despite her alienation, the empty bed permanently rooted in the hardwood of Joel’s house kept her coming back. “Did y’wanna watch anything else? I’m kinda tired.” 
Even the softness of your voice couldn’t conceal your hurt, that she was shutting down. Closing you off. Keeping you at a distance. Her heart twinged, but she couldn’t look at you. She looked down at her outstretched legs, the off-white blanket cascading over them, the piece of dust she could see out of the corner of her eye. Anything. Except you. She felt cold, but your body was warm, radiating and making her shift toward you subconsciously. She hated it. 
Why is hate so much easier to express?
“You have patrol tomorrow?” It was easier to just get technical, sometimes. You nodded, before stretching your arms over your head, a yawn escaping you. “Gotta be up at four. Wesley and Nia have the flu or something, so we have to head out early to swing by their posts, too.” Ellie nodded, absentmindedly picking at her cuticles. Ignoring the sweet smell of vanilla that emanated from your body as your arms went over your head. 
She was so proud of herself when she found you that bar soap out on patrol, neatly tucked away in a dusty white vanity. You were so happy, so grateful, always so grateful that she was thinking of you. That she perceived you in such a way.
And she almost fucking said it, that night. Almost ruined everything. Those three little words. She was high, probably on some weed, but also on how your eyes sparkled when you were happy, the way your eyes crinkled slightly at the corners and you shifted your body weight side-to-side excitedly. Your emotions were quite obvious, most of the time. It made Ellie want to cry. 
“That sucks,” she mumbled, and she couldn’t help it now. You were like a magnet, she was sliding down against the pillows, watching the credits roll on the small screen past the end of her bed. She could hear you breathing, deep and careful. On edge. Why were you so on edge?
“It does,” you agreed. Ellie didn’t look away from the screen. Sinking, slowly, slowly, slower...her head was resting near your rib cage, now. She could feel you breathing. And she felt you slide down to match her position, turning your body to face her, silently and without explanation. It was better that way. 
“You’ll sleep here tonight?” And it felt strangled, coming out of her throat. She didn’t need to say anything, though. Of course you were sleeping in her bed. Tonight, and the night before that, and before that…but she felt you nod against her side, and her arm slid up to allow you access to her chest. No explanation. Ellie was really bad at explaining. 
“You’re cold,” your voice was muffled against the fabric of her gray hoodie. Ellie almost smiled. Almost. 
“You’re warm,” she retorted, and she feels your heart pulse faster against the skin of your back. The movie’s end credits became the soundtrack to the night. Soft and pensive. Like you. 
Ellie watched as your breathing eventually slowed, your shoulders rising and falling rhythmically as you drifted away into sleep. She was always jealous of that, though of course, like everything else, she’d never admit it—how your tiredness always let you drift into a blissful dreamland, your right hand twitching where it usually sat curled loosely atop her chest as you slept. You moved a lot, she noticed, and talked sometimes, too. Sleep didn’t come easy to people like Ellie. 
And so, she was absolutely, positively, awake and conscious when you let out a breathy sigh in your sleep, legs twitching slightly against her bottom half before settling back into her chest. A whisper escaped your lips, so sweet it may have been laced with vanilla, too. 
“I love you…” 
But this time, Ellie couldn’t stop her tears.
596 notes · View notes
pianocat939 · 5 months
Text
(I ended up studying for like 5 hours today on foreign language idk why, but yeah- I’ll try to get a request done. And start on Ch. 1 of monster series)
I make way too many alternates but…
Just listen.
Mean girl Donnie.
Tw: implied/explicit threatening, implied bribery maybe?, very disorganized thoughts, blackmailing, controlling behaviour, degradation, please read with caution just cuz’ the relationship is pretty toxic…in a controlling way
Like not the popularized, blonde and have a group kind of mean girl-
I mean like…
Super smart and super rich Mean girl Donnie.
He’s on the way to valedictorian, (and will be). He has a lot of power within the school, whether it’s being leader of multiple clubs or a student president.
He’s super fucking rich. (Somehow…) He’s wearing Dior, Prada, Saint Laurent, Swarovski, Burberry- Anything you can imagine of luxury.
He never looks bad. Ever. He’s always looking perfect. He could be wearing a really dashing purple suit and loafers one day. And another day be wearing hot pink and white sweater and skirt- like he wears all kinds of clothes. But he never looks bad.
He doesn’t have a minion group. He solely believes in his independence. [His brothers…he doesn’t put much notice on them, he’s a more notable being]
Let’s say MC is like. Just there. Not unpopular or popular…just there.
Their life is pretty mundane until they accidentally bump into Donnie while he was fixing his- idk lipstick or eyebrows- causing it to go wild on his face.
He’s immediately offended, confronting them why they have the audacity to ruin his perfect makeup/brows.
[his appearance (feminine or masculine) changes every day so either situation works]
MC ends up getting a life of hell from then on.
Wether they’re accused by teachers for no reason, or wondering why their friends or more on edge when talking to them. Their school life isn’t exactly hell…but isn’t great either.
At some point, they can’t tolerate it and ask Donnie what he did. Only to end up unraveling a horror story of a dictator.
He’s blackmailing them, threatening that he’ll expose it to everyone, and anything. (MC didn’t even do such a thing, he just managed to fake it).
Poor MC can’t help but accept his deal by being his “minion” for the next month.
In the morning, MC has to basically chauffeur Donnie to school, in a flashy ass Bugatti.
They have to carry all his stuff, and follow him around. They can’t go through their normal schedule, they have to follow his.
They have to participate at all his extracurricular events, meetings, whatever.
.
.
.
Until a few weeks later, the things they have to do change.
They have to wear the clothes he’s picked out for them on whatever day. [it’s always matching in colour or style with his]
They have to call him any form of endearments he wants. And gets pissed if they don’t.
[Now I know he isn’t for physical touch, but for the sake of the alternate bear with me]
On days he wears lipstick, he covers them in kisses on their face, staining their cheeks all over. And they can’t take it off, because of his annoyance. So the entire school knows.
They have to follow EXACTLY the same schedule as him, even outside of school. Like…maybe not doing the exact same thing, but waking up, sleeping, and all like the daily things have to be aligned with his.
They have to call him every night and talk with him…keep him company. (Which MC soon realizes Donnie actually thinks of MC as a significant other, just in a controlling way.) He gets quite lovey-dovey during the midnight calls.
“MC…you’re the only person I like touching at all~ I mean…you look so stupid walking around covered in my lipstick stains hihi~…”
They sleep over at his house every weekend- they’re just basically incorporated into his life.
By the end of the month, the entire school just considers MC as Donnie’s lover…and MC can’t deny the title no matter what. The school believes Donnie more than MC.
——————————————————
(This brain rot turned out a lot longer than I thought oops-)
You know, we got rich mean girl Donnie,
How about Dumb Pink Squad Leo? Like, the actual stereotypical mean girls.
- Celina
(I need help from my thoughts lmao)
228 notes · View notes
stealthetrees · 5 months
Text
Okay I’ve snapped.
If you say Percy Jackson is stupid I will find you and make sure you regret it.
I have inattentive type ADHD. I was diagnosed in 4th grade and got put on medication. I did not think there was a difference but I got an award from the school for how much I improved. They didn’t know it was because of meds.
Before I was diagnosed I remember being on the verge of tears often at school because I got so frustrated that I couldn’t do work. I sat at my desk with the pencil in my hand staring at a worksheet physically unable to write the awnser I knew. I would stare at the question and like an optical illusion the rest of the page blurs together and I can’t even make out word anymore.
I thought I was dyslexic for the longest time because some fonts are so difficult for me to read. I could look at a recit, know it says lettuce, and it will not process in my brain. Unless I am a few hours away from a deadline it is nearly impossible to start assignments. Essays are hell.
You know those songs that have an American accent but are completely nonsense? That’s what it sounds like a lot when I listen to people talk. Usally I can grasp the general meaning but I can not tell you what word you just said.
Time is not real. I sit down, scroll through tumblr for maybe 15 minutes and my roommate asks why I’m sitting doing nothing for 4 hours straight. Full days disappear and I can’t remember anything that happened. I have no idea how long it takes me to do something I do almost every day.
I went two weeks at the beginning of the semester with meds that where 10 milligrams lower than my usual dosage. My grades still haven’t recovered.
THAT SAID. In cannon, Percy Jackson passed 13 years of school with high enough grades to be accepted to a university. Not medicated. Without accommodations.
So either the education system in New York is taylored specifically for people with ADHD, or Percy Jackson is a fucking geinios. I can’t spell.
So ignoring the fact that nearly every fight he won by outsmarting his opponent, let me tell you why.
In the books, he’s an introvert, sits in the back, tries to keep his head down but usually fails, gets detention often, and has been expelled multiple times. That’s not the kind of kid teachers go out of their way to help. He’s also unlikely to ask for help. So, despite his struggles in the classroom, he has never been held back or had to redo a grade as far as we know. And it’s pretty likely considering his age.
Add in the fact that he would be constantly sleep deprived from staying up very late (like from 10-3, based off my experience) and his dyslexia, Percy would need to be really good at retaining information after hearing or seeing it only once. That’s actually supported by his ability to memorize prophecies word for word after only hearing them once. We know Percy is bad at taking tests, so he would have to be really good at recalling information.
He also did it all unmedicated. I want to cry just thinking about it.
tldr, the fact that Percy’s grades where high enough to get into college means hes fucking brilliant
182 notes · View notes
gojos-thot-patrol · 1 year
Note
I really liked your dating HCs 😃 wanted to know if you could do the jjk men flirting with a crush HCs? 🥰 just all the stuff they try to do to woo a person if interest 😍
Aww, I'm glad you like my dating HCs! Flirting goes hand in hand with dating as far as I'm concerned, so lets do this!
Now Presenting...
Tumblr media
Starring Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, and Ryomen Sukuna
Tumblr media
Kento Nanami
the quiet type
Tumblr media
Nanami is so bad at flirting I'm being SO SERIOUS 
He doesn't really have the time or energy for it, so it's a struggle for him to flirt. 
All I can think about when I think about Nanami flirting is this clip.
I feel like he treats it as a business transaction because that's just what he knows and is familiar with
When he's not being extremely business savvy, he's trying to get to know you as a person. 
If you're going to make a relationship work, you have to know that person. So he's asking you about your hobbies, your childhood, your opinions, ect.
Now, I know what you're thinking Dear Reader. "Isn't that just what friends do?"
Yes. 
I told you, he's bad at this.
Honestly, you probably wouldn't have any idea he was interested in you romantically until he hits you with that, "I've had feelings for you for a while now, would you like to go out on a date with me?"
BLINDSIDED.
But, honestly? Considering all the Information he's gathered about you it's going to be one of the best dates of your life 
After that, his flirting does shaft. It turns more into him sending you “Good morning 💛” texts and checking in on you throughout the day. 
Also he cooks for you.
He flirts by learning your favorite dishes and learning how to cook them perfectly.
As far as he’s concerned, cooking for someone is the oldest expression of love and care, and he’s a sucker for cute traditions. 
He also starts to recommend media based on things you like. He’s flexing that he knows your taste
Ultimately Nanami flirts by showing that he knows you well, which is weird to say lol.
Tumblr media
Suguru Geto
Prince Charming
Tumblr media
Charismatic as fuck.
Out of all of these men he's the best at flirting. 
Suguru is very manipulative, and that translates Into him being phenomenal at flirting, because he can manipulate your emotions. 
I'd give an example but I can't cause he's better at flirting than I am by a mile
I think it's very subtle at first. Almost like him planting the thought of you liking him into your brain.
And once that seed has grown into a full on tree, his flirting becomes more overt, so you know he likes you and you like him
He definitely pebbles.
Giving you wildflowers he picked while the two of you were walking, giving you used books he annotated for you, sending you memes that made him think of you.
Do not be fooled reader, this man is Baby's First Manipulator and this is the start of love bombing.
He writes poetry for you. The type of poetry that when you first read it, it makes you all giggly and love sick, but when you read it after the breakup you realize it was all just pretentious garbage. 
SONG RECS. 
Geto flirts by giving you song recommendations, sending you music that reminds him of you, videos of live performances he thinks you’d like, and the like. 
Music genuinely forms the way this man interacts with the world, so when he starts sending you love songs that should honestly be the first hint that he’s into you. 
He sends his homies over to go and hype him up to you, that's the vibe
The moment you say you’re cold he's covering you in his jacket. 
“Where's my hug?”
Ok, no to the last point but also yes kinda.
I swear I physically CANNOT bring myself to be nice to Suguru
Tumblr media
Satoru Gojo
the goofball
Tumblr media
“Like my shirt? It’s made of boyfriend material.”
“Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?”
“Did it hurt when you fell? Cause you're the only Ten I See…wait, I think I fucked that one up.”
Gojo is CHEESY I TELL YOU. MAN IS DRIPPING IN CRINGE, DO YOU HEAR ME?!
But, it’s almost charming just how earnest he is in trying to woo you. 
He sends you those couple memes like “this could be us but you playin’” paired with a picture of minecraft diamond armor Halloween costumes
He takes you to watch slasher movies so you get scared and cling to him, but ends up getting spooked and clinging to you.
When he looks at you you just see his eyes glittering with adoration
When he looks at you he just sees you through the Shojo vision filter
He always looks for a reason to touch you. Brushing your hair behind your ears, his knees brushing yours when you sit next to each other, anything. As long as you’re comfortable with it of course.
He slips notes into your pocket with other cheesy pick up lines or cute little doodles.
It starts with him just jokingly flirting to hide his real emotions, but it only makes his heart burn brighter for you.
You noticed it, when slowly it turns from him laughing after a cheesy pick up line to him nervously chuckling and trying to hide his blush.
He can’t look at you without smiling, at least just a little bit. 
His heart gets fluttery and he starts to get a little more stuttery.
He decides that just flirting and leaving the chance of a relationship just hanging over you, indefinite and fuzzy, hurts WAY MORE than any possible rejection could hurt
He slips a note into your pocket that's like “Wanna go on a date with me? For real this time! Yes No”
Gojo’s flirting just shows his inexperience with romance and seduction tactics, but it’s almost charming in that way
Tumblr media
Ryomen Sukuna
The Monster
Tumblr media
This man is Radioactive besties, idk how to tell you want nothing he’s peddling. 
He doesn't even flirt.
His flirting is telling you you belong to him and slaughtering anyone who dares to disagree. 
He flirts by being nice to you homie. 
Actually, no, scratch that. He flirts by not being actively hostile.
His tsundere ass would literally kidnap you, force you to spend as much time with him as inhumanly possible, and still be like “I don't understand why you think i like you.”
Basic kindness is his flirting. Like, honestly I don’t know to go about his section of this because he just doesn’t flirt LMAO
Him flirting is him just like, staring at you like a weirdo and just expecting you to know what that means
Him flirting is calling you woman instead of wench
On the real though, flirting is mostly seen in him being over protective of you. 
Like, god help any other person that talks to you where he can see it.
He’s going to choke slam them.
He picks on other people than immediately looks at you for approval because he thinks that sharing violence is flirting.
Honestly, that’s how he flirts. He goes out of his way to try and gain your approval.
He’s like a cat that brings you a dead bird, only the dead bird was another possible suitor.
Except he doesn’t know how to be a decent human being so it’s just him doing the most unhinged and horrific shit then looking at you like “I do good?”
No Ryomen, you don’t do good.
And yet, you’ve won my heart anyway. What a bother.
679 notes · View notes
rummels · 22 days
Text
weight on my shoulders
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
relationships: platonic Reader & Chan & Changbin word count: ~2300 warnings: none tags: fluff, platonic intimacy, gender neutral reader summary: You're in a weird and uncomfortable headspace, your friends and flatmates Chan and Changbin help you with lots of soft affection and understanding.
read on ao3
You quietly plod into the living room, your feet hidden in thick fluffy socks causing you to sneak up to the couch unnoticed. Your frame is completely concealed by an oversized hoodie that reaches down to the middle of your thighs, tickling the back of your bare legs a bit when you stop a short distance away. You’re not sure if you like the feeling, it feels a bit like tiny zips of static prickle against your skin where the fabric brushes against you just the tiniest bit. It causes you to frown, huffing a tiny breath out of your nose. Everything feels a bit…off. The figure sitting on the couch hadn’t noticed you until now, engrossed in some TV show or movie, but the quiet noise makes the man look over to you.
“Hey,” Chan says softly, a warm smile tugging on his lips.
“I didn’t even notice you coming in. You wanna join me?”
He pats the space next to him in invitation, raising his eyebrows slightly in question and rearranging his position a bit so his legs are not stretched out across the couch. You tilt your head in a curious gesture and nod slightly, shuffling over and plomping yourself into the newly vacated spot, immediately leaning into Chan’s side. It’s not uncommon for you to seek out physical contact with your best friend and flatmate, the both of you sharing and enjoying skinship in a very loving yet platonic way.
It’s quiet for several minutes, Chan again taken in by whatever is shown on TV. You couldn’t care less, your brain going both zero and a thousand miles per minute, leaving you feeling a little overwhelmed and disoriented, not really knowing what to do with yourself while thoughts zip around in your head without you really being able to grab onto a single one of them. Chan’s hand unconsciously wanders across the back of the couch to you, his fingertips starting to slowly comb through the hair at your neck. You let out a low hum and close your eyes. This is nice. Somehow grounding. Just the tiniest bit, you push your head against the touch to encourage it and let Chan know to not stop his ministrations. He looks over to you again.
“Are you okay?” He looks a bit concerned. Usually you’re much more talkative, especially after a long day at work, wanting to share whatever annoyed or excited you that day or simply let out your annoyance about some frustrating project or other. Your brain rambles at you from the moment you wake up and simply letting your thoughts out and sharing them is often very relaxing to you, especially when you don’t have to be worried about being written off as an annoying chatterbox. Which you never have to worry about with Chan. Never had to, actually. So your continued silence is definitely raising some worries in your attentive friend.
You look at him, obviously giving the answer some thought before you scrunch your nose up and nod-shake your head in a definitely a little weird display of uncertainty. Immediately, Chan tunes in on you more, his whole body angling towards you a bit more while he studies your face.
“Did something happen?”
You shake your head no.
“Are you having a bad day?”
You shake your head again.
“Hm…are you getting sick?”
Again, a definite no, you shake your head.
“So simply a bad day maybe?”
You begin to negate that too when he hastily adds “You know that would be okay too, yeah? You can have a bad day without any reason and it’s still okay and valid. Some days are just fucked.”
A small grin sneaks onto your face, knowing he is about to quote one of those silly motivational Tiktoks you both send each other sometimes. He grins back, relieved at seeing your reaction.
“And there’s no way to unfuck them. Try again tomorrow,” he says and can’t stop himself from giggling a bit before ruffling your hair affectionately. You clear your throat, it feeling a bit scratchy after actually being silent for quite some time – you hadn’t even consciously realized that until now.
“Don’t worry, I’m not feeling bad, I’m just –“ You try to find the right words, frowning a bit, “-off? I don’t know,” you trail off, hoping he might understand. You yourself are not even able to understand it but Chan is smart, he gets people. And maybe he understands. Even if not, you know you don’t have to worry, he will simply accept it and will not try to force something out of you just for the sake of his own peace of mind.
You are proven right when he softly nods his head, his eyes deep in thought until he snaps back to you and gifts you one of his blinding smiles. “Come here, babygirl,” he says while pulling you over and manhandling you into a cuddling position against his side, halfway in his lap, his hands again finding themselves in your hair again. You make a little squawking noise at the pet name but your weird aversion to speaking right now is definitely not helping your protest. Factor in that Chan knows how much you actually secretly like the term of endearment? You’ve got no ground to stand on. The voices in your head have just started to discuss if this is something to be happy or disgruntled about when you feel his fingernails scratch against your scalp and you think you could start purring like a fucking cat any second now. Fuck this. There’s no snark left in you right now to defend yourself and you actually start to feel a tiny bit more like yourself so why bother?
Chan goes back to watching his show while holding you against himself, switching between softly combing through your hair with his fingers and giving you head scritches. You feel weirdly small, which seems a bit ridiculous to you considering you’re actually exactly the same height as him and also not exactly small in any other way. But it’s so nice, you melt more and more into him, your eyes drifting shut every now and then until your weird brain swirls manage to drag you up again.
By the time the front door opens and closes again, it has turned dark outside and Chan perks up, looking over the back of the couch towards the hallway.
“YA!” A shout echoes through the apartment, announcing the arrival of Changbin as he throws his backpack somewhere into the hallway.
You flinch at the sudden noise, also moving your head a bit but Chan suddenly has a rather firm grip in your hair and keeps you in place. Eyes widening, you feel like your pulse is suddenly going down in a very relaxing way. What the hell? The effect is too nice to fight against though, so you decide to go with it and stay where you are. Maybe Chan really does know best. Your own brain definitely doesn’t feel like it’s able to deal with any responsibilities and decisions right now.
“Tone it down, Binnie.” Chan’s voice vibrates against the side of your face. Huh, when did you slide all the way over to rest your face against his chest? You instinctively try to perk up again in surprise, you’ve also started to develop a bit of crick in the upper part of your back from the position you were in. This time Chan lets you but keeps his hand at the back of your neck which you are weirdly thankful for. Changbin chooses that moment to stick his head into the room and, seeing the two of you cuddled up on the couch, wiggles his eyebrows in a suggestive manner while smirking like the little gremlin he sometimes tends to be.
“You’re trying to win them over while I’m not home? Unfair business, Christopher,” he playfully scolds Chan and again you manage to smile. Yay, an emotion!
The two of them like to put up a whole charade of pretending to heroically and dramatically trying to win your heart over, each trying to ‘win’ against the other. All three of you are very much aware of the fact that this is all a game. You love them both to bits, would probably gladly cut off your own hand for them if the situation demanded it. But you’re also all very safe in the knowledge that nothing sexual would ever come into your relationship. Between you preaching about open and honest communication, Chan’s will to provide and care and give love and Changbin’s absolute lack of any kind of shame or reservations when it comes to feelings and affection, the three of you have created a very nurturing and loving environment in your shared apartment.
Chan’s chuckle is audible next to you before he speaks. “No wooing today, I’m just trying to cuddle y/n’s brain into submission because we’re feeling a bit weird today,” he explains, his thumb rubbing small circles into the soft skin under your ear while his hand lays on your neck.
“Oh no, do we have a scrambled brain today?” Changbin sits down next to you on the couch and leans closer, peering into your face like it may just give him all the answers on its own. You nod and pull a frowny face.
“They don’t like to talk right now.” Chan lets you out of his arms as you reach over for Changbin, going to lean your forehead against his big shoulder. But he reaches down and cups your face in his hands, holding it and looking at you while obviously thinking something over.
“Can I try something?” he ends up asking. “It might help but you need to tell me if you feel uncomfortable with it today, you know I will not be mad if you do, right?”
Having no clue which brilliant idea he has cooked up underneath those fluffy curls, you nod your head in agreement. You don’t need to worry, that much you definitely know.
Changbin hurries to shoo Chan off the couch and pushes you down with sure hands until you’re fully laying down. You only manage to look up at him for a couple of seconds before he is once again pulling and pushing at you until you end up on your stomach. He also tugs at your hoodie a bit until it doesn’t form any big creases against your body anymore and then you feel a warm hand at the small of your back.
“I will lay down on top of you now, is that okay?”, he asks softly and you feel a flutter of excitement in your chest. Yes. That would be perfect actually. Suddenly the fact that he’s not already settled on top of you seems almost cruel to you and you wiggle around a bit, nodding your head in clear agreement and permission.
He can’t help but poke your butt – of course he can’t – before crawling over you and then slowly letting all of his weight push down against you. You let out a small grunt of contentment, the air getting pushed out of your lungs and you feel like your bones turn into liquid. Perfect. This is exactly what you needed. Like putting on 3D glasses in the cinema, two separate yet connected, overlayered parts of yourself seem to finally slot together and begin to form a coherent version of yourself again. Changbin moves around a tiny bit still, finding the perfect spot and position to rest in while you turn your head to the side, peering into the dimly lit living room, your eyelids fluttering a bit.
Chan moves into your field of vision and crouches down to be at eye level with you. He’s got his signature ‘proud loving parent’ smile on and usually you would tease him for it – to hide how much you absolutely love get looked at like that – but right now it’s perfect for your mushy brain. He reaches out and tugs a bit on your hood.
“Would you like to put that on?”
You feel even less like talking right now, your body and mind almost like molasses. It’s a sweet, heady feeling and you smile, blinking slowly once and hoping he understands. He cocks his head to the side and raises an amused eyebrow.
“Is that a yes?”
You give a slow long blink again, probably smiling like an idiot. He chuckles and reaches over, slipping your hood over your head and arranging it in a way that makes you peek out of it like a little ferret out of its den. The fact that they know you so well, aware that you like to have your hearing muffled sometimes, feeling safe inside your hoodie, makes you so happy that you give another slow blink while contently scrunching up your nose with a smile. Chan boops it with his finger and stands up.
“You okay down there?”, you hear Changbin checking in from somewhere on top of you and you give a tiny wiggle so as to not accidentally throw him off of you but still answer his question ….somehow.
“Perfect. Just let me know when I should get up again, please don’t just yeet me off when it gets to be too much, alright?”
You wiggle again, completely settling in now and closing your eyes. Your head is not quiet, it never is when you’re awake. But right now there’s only a soft song buzzing in the back of your mind – you probably heard it somewhere on your way home – while you think about the new movie that’s running in the cinemas and you wanted to go to with both Chan and Changbin, your mind switching over to remember the time you all went to Changbin’s problematic cousin’s birthday party last month to crash it as a fake throuple, nearly sending the whole conservative side of his family into a collapse. Also there’s this brownie recipe Felix shared with you, maybe you’re gonna try that out tomorrow…
114 notes · View notes
whatbigotspost · 1 year
Text
What I wish I could get people who didn’t grow up in highly controlled, abusive environments to understand is that when the very people who are forming you are really fucked up and bad, you are FULLY incapable of knowing that as a kid.
You’re not capable of “damn my dad is really not ok” or “mom is toxic” for a long time. It’s years and years of “this is life. That is my dad. That’s my mom. It’s just how it is.” It often takes PAINFUL moments of realization to get to even questioning if your life isn’t normal. In fact, in my experience, it takes many painful moments to eventually get you there. Someone at school making fun of your parents, for example. Or some outside caring adult noticing things they seem worried about w/ you. Or a particularly extreme incident of abuse that shakes you. Or reading/hearing someone recount abuse they survived and you get the sick realization it’s like a mirror for you.
When your primary caregivers are your means of survival, your brain wraps you in many many many protective layers of denial and whatever the fuck else it needs to so that you can get through it. Many folks like myself will spend more time healing ourselves as adults from our childhood than we spent in the childhood of trauma itself.
Also, let’s be real, an implication I’m making here is that a lot of folks don’t even pick at the thread of “was I abused?” because it’s too overwhelming all together. Or even “was my childhood kinda fucked up?”
Spoiler alert. If your childhood was kinda fucked up, it’s better, in the long run, to acknowledge and address that. Anyway, this is my characteristically long winded way of wanting to recommend some books on the subject that I have found deeply relatable and meaningful:
•Jeanette McCrurdy’s memoir I’m Glad My Mom Died: If you’d be up for an unflinching look at a deeply difficult childhood that includes physical, sexual, and emotional abuse and neglect and disordered eating in the Disney-universe, this is your read. Thinking about what McCurdy has had to overcome chills me to my core but the feelings she shares in words felt deeply relatable and I know they will help many.
•Ashley Ford’s memoir Somebody’s Daughter: I’m biased to love her because she’s a fellow Hoosier but you will love her too. Incredibly well written and deeply moving, Ford’s memoir covers her childhood with an abusive mother, a father in jail for rape, and survivorship of her own rape, as well as her place thriving now. She offers us such meaningful processing of her story. (And just writing style wise, this one is a mega fave.)
•Grace Cho’s memoir Tastes Like War: this one is a deep dive into Cho’s upbringing with a mother (who like one of my parents) has schizophrenia. I found her account of having a first hand seat to a parent’s mental health decline too relatable. The components of her story that focus on her mom’s experience of war and immigrating from Korea and the role that Korean food plays in their lives, are moving beyond words.
•Tara Westover’s memoir Educated: having been raised in a very isolated, survivalist Mormon family and tiny community in Idaho, Westover shares her personal story of a quest for escape and education. Although my family was nowhere nearly so unusual and isolated as Westover’s, I feel what she chronicles will highly resonate with anyone raised by someone who seeks to keep you away from “mainstream influences” or who is any level of survivalist.
Obviously, these are heavy reads and DO NOT check them out if you don’t feel in the right headspace. Each one moved me to tears multiple times. But if your awful/strange childhood and leaving it (them) behind makes you feel alone trust me YOU ARE NOT ALONE ❤️
I also recommend these reads for anyone who wants to see at an anecdotal level what are experiences of people raised in highly abusive environments and/or raised by parents struggling with mental illnesses and/or people raised in high control situations. Chances are you know/love someone who fits that description and you may gain helpful insights.
421 notes · View notes