#do not look at the anatomy on that wrist/hand it feels fucked but i wont be able to tell how until 1000s of eyes are alreayd lain upon it

[wtfforged]

i like when hes squishy!

#i would like to pinch his cheeks and ruffle his hair #ive been so jealous of his hair lately. im really just gonna buy clippers the next time i go to the store i think #wtf... art #roronoa zoro #one piece fanart #zoro #sigh...implied #zosan #sanzo #if u squint #do not look at the anatomy on that wrist/hand it feels fucked but i wont be able to tell how until 1000s of eyes are alreayd lain upon it #edit: its fucking backwards again isnt it

[forlorn-crows]

kinktober day 26

i wasnt gonna write for this day, can you believe it? blasphemy

mountrain piss ahoy. cause who else would it be?

transmasc rain, clit/cunt/folds/dick to describe his anatomy

Mountain puts a hand over Rain’s tight little belly, swelling with fullness. He knows his cock is pushing right against his bladder. He can feel him fluttering, clenching to hold it back every time he sinks back down. 

“Mount . . . ‘m so full,” Rain whines. He bites his lip and grinds his hips in little circles, covering Mountain’s hand with his own. The earth ghoul presses down, just enough. Just enough to get Rain to gasp and dig his nails into his wrist. 

“Want you to do it,” Mountain breathes, entranced by the way his mate goes rigid, thighs quivering with strain. His cock gives a jolt. “Belial, want you to get me wet.”

Rain chokes on the moan that falls from his lips. His cunt squeezes around Mountain, drooling more slick onto the base of his cock. 

Mountain makes a choked noise of his own in return.“You’re so wet, tadpole,” he says, as if it’s something to be surprised by. He smooths his hands up and down Rain’s thighs, feeling them twitch beneath his palms, unsure whether or not to keep bouncing. 

“Uh huh,” Rain wallows. He looks down at Mountain with heavy, unfocused eyes. The earth ghoul reaches up and brushes a dark, sweaty curl off his forehead, tender. Rain’s eyes flutter shut, and he whimpers. “Gotta…gotta fuck it outta me, Mount, it wont—I can’t—”

“Yeah? Want me to make you?”

Rain nods. “Don’t—don’t hold back. Need to,” he begs, almost ashamed. 

“Fuck,” Mountain groans. He slides his hands back up to the water ghoul’s hips, digging his fingers in until they dimple the skin. Rain arches into it, little dick twitching against the nest of curls at the base of Mountain’s cock. “Fuck.”

“Help—help me move,” Rain mutters. He hisses when the bigger ghoul thrusts up into him, the head of his cock nudging against the building pressure deep inside. “Shhhit, fucking make me, make me—”

He barely finishes his sentence before Mountain’s gripping him hard and holding him up, keeping him half-kneeled as he fucks him hard and fast. He only pulls out about halfway before grinding back in, intent on keeping Rain feeling constantly full. 

"Right there, right there oh—"

"So tight,” Mountain wheezes. “How’re you so fucking tight, Rainy.”

“Cause I gotta—hnn—I gotta—” Rain presses one hand to his belly and fists the other over his little dick, dropping his full weight down onto Mountain’s cock. He lets out a whiny stream of fuckfuckfuck’s, jerking himself while he squeezes his thighs around the earth ghoul’s hips. 

“Come on,” Mountain whispers. He arches and presses as deep as he can. He watches Rain’s eyes nearly cross as he writhes in his lap, chasing release of both kinds. “Come on, tadpole, give it to me, let it out.”

“Oh Lucifer, Mountain, oh no.” 

“Yes, darling, let me see, it’s okay,” Mountain babbles, encouraging. His hands grip his hips tighter still.

“Coming, it’s—fuck—” Rain grunts and a few drips trickle out onto Mountain’s belly. And all at once he lets it go, hand flying over his clit as he empties himself over Mountain’s cock, his stomach, running onto the sheets. The sound of his hand gets even more lewd, fingers tugging and slapping on wet skin. 

“Fuck, Rain, fuckfuckfuck,” Mountain groans, watching it flow over every place they’re joined. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t love it, especially the way it warms his skin and soaks into the fabric beneath them—especially the way Rain’s body goes rigid and jerky, head lolling back while he loses himself in the defilement and humiliation of it all. 

“‘M gonna cum,” he gasps. His eyes are glassy as he stares at the mess on Mountain’s stomach. “Fuck,” he sobs. 

Mountain thrusts up more into his body, groaning at the way Rain slides against him, wet and frictionless. He’s about two seconds away from flipping the water ghoul onto his back and fucking him sensless. 

He’ll probably do it anyway.

“Cum for me,” he grunts. “Fucking squirt for it.”

#the band ghost #ghost fanfic #the band ghost fanfic #ghostober #kinktober 2023 #ficlet #fanfic #mountain ghoul #transmasc rain #rain ghoul #mountrain #mountain/rain #rain/mountain #guys you should be proud of me ive written EVERY SINGLE PROMPT ahead of time so far #this is insantiy #i cant spell op

[purkinje-effect]

The Anatomy of Melancholy, 66: Baggage

Table of Contents. Second Instar, Chapter 33. Go to previous. Go to next. TWs: Body horror, joint trauma, nudity, disability-related deprecation/catastrophization. How we carry ourselves.

________________

The last of the suds fizzled, leaving ‘Choly submerged in cold opalescent bathwater. A similar surfactant quality popped his daze, and he shifted in an attempt to sit up in the tub. The fluid’s inertia instead sloshed him further back against the enameled iron. He grunted with a squint as some water got up his nose. When he opened his eyes again, he saw the real trouble hindering his exit. His joints had fallen as slack as his lucidity. He felt like a marionette without a yoke. His stomach shuddered for him, as the slow continued sway of the water, once more settling, tugged at his arms half afloat.

So it was possible, after all, to relax too much.

He lay there for some time longer, barely able to string together the thought to devise some plan. His state left him reeling beyond the rationality that he might call out for help. Angel would worry itself apart to see him like this, and Sticks might very well toss him out in the Merrimack, beyond salvage. Besides, they hadn’t come to his rescue when he fell hours earlier, and he managed to get himself to the dinner table and back up here with nearly a nonzero amount of assistance. He could do this himself. He needed to learn how to do it himself--for his own safety, in the event something estranged others from coming to his aid.

He prayed this whatever-was-happening wouldn’t endure. But at least, he could in the moment assess his limitations.

His musculature and tendons remained connected and functioning, but necessitated an entirely other manner of physiological prescience: to not simply manage his own proprioception, but to apply it forward like some telekinetic mess of connective tissue cat’s cradle. It took every scrape of mental faculty to process and focus to where he could grasp himself by the wrists, by the elbows, by the shoulders, and so on, to grip each errant joint in turn, and to administer the force and torsion necessary to right the dysfunction. The bangs and bruises from the citywide chaos of the day before only served to compound how his throbbing body resisted total exhaustion.

He pushed himself up by both hands off the side of the tub, to stand. Instead, he spilled over the side and across the concrete flooring of the balcony. Flat on his back and defeated, he flopped back with a wheeze and stared up into the joints of the patio cover. The string lights burned a reverse image in his eyelids when he shut them.

He could hear rummaging inside through the open door yards away. His Stygian eyes fluttered open. The sight of twin mounted radstag heads hanging over the balcony door choked him.

“--Angel?”

The appellation came out far weaker and more broken than he expected.

When Angel didn’t respond, he bristled, and once more underwent the slow, quiet, deliberate process of summoning himself together. He found the Mister Handy had set out on the workhorse nearest to the tub for him a towel, his robe, and his glasses. He managed the loosest sense of drying off, and draped the towel around his neck and shoulders; then, he put on his glasses, and tied off the robe. Unsure exactly whom had come upstairs, let alone what--or whom--they sought, he grabbed an awl from the workbench and edged nearer the door frame on bated breath.

In the dark of the upstairs room, he could only make out the edges of lime split lighting in contrast to the figure’s lit Pip-Boy screen. He shivered at a prickle of draft. The white uniform with black apron. Symmetrical, if not keloid-riddled, features. Sticks rifled through the secretary as though it didn’t belong to him. Unsure how to even begin to ask what the ghoul could’ve needed, 'Choly meekly closed the door behind himself.

“Need more light?”

Sticks jerked up to look at him.

“...Of course, of course.” He loosed a rumbling, agitated chuckle. “It’s all right, pal, that you, ah. Sealed that negotiation for me like that. It’s all right, because... because we’re partners. Isn’t that right? Partners.”

The ghoul rose to flip the switch for the three overhead lamps strung across the roof beams. Right off, ‘Choly noticed the ghoul’s black eye, and a ripped dishevelment marred with bits of fresh blood. ‘Choly chewed at his lower lip.

“Partners... Yeah.” He swallowed, and rubbed at his forearm with his free hand. He’d only been trying to help. “Are you okay? Could we-- talk? We need to talk. If-- if that’s all right.”

The juxtaposition of the encounter startled Sticks to a cautious desperation.

“Everything’s all right between us, right?”

“Of course. It’s not that. ...I need to sit.” He walked over to the secretary and took the desk chair for himself. Sticks sat on the corner of the bed. “I know I fucked up a lot yesterday, but I think I may have fucked up something else.”

He set the awl down on the desk, and swiveled to face Sticks. Picking what he felt he could afford to potentially damage further, he took hold of his left calf and knee, and purposefully loosed it again with a hollow chain of cartilaginous pops. His breath stuttered as he dangled his leg by the foot, but he kept his cool as he gave the ghoul a sardonic glance.

Sticks looked to him agape, with unfiltered, nauseated fascination.

“The cryogenic chemicals damaged my joints and skin, but I’ve managed for months until today. This is... something completely else.” He worked at resetting his knee as he continued, stifling jolts of revulsion. “I mean, even if it is the condition progressing, why all at once? And why-- this? It would be too much of a coincidence if the X-Cell Squared weren’t related... or the inhaler. That fucking inhaler.” He seethed, cupping his face in hand. “I was so tired when she handed me that stuff last night and told me it was Addictol. Fuck me, I’m stupid--”

“--You’re not stupid. She just knows how to trick people. ...Do you really suppose she gave you something that wasn’t Addictol?”

“I checked my Pip-Boy’s health diagnostics earlier. I’m still in withdrawals from chems I took prior to her giving me the inhaler. I could show you, if I-- if I knew where it was.”

“Hey now. I’m sure it’s safe. It’s just you, me, and the robot now.”

‘Choly toweled at his hair again, only to swivel around and look in the secretary for himself. He produced the Walden Drugs catalogue from one slot, and thumbed through it in search of specific pages.

“My current set of orthotics aren’t doing it. The officer’s gloves help, but that’s just my hands. The ankle and wrist braces, the postural corset--they’re just for sprains and such, not full dislocations. Neither you nor Angel seemed to notice earlier, but I fell down the stairs. I’m struggling to put one foot in front of the other. I’m a liability as I am. You called me wet cardboard the other day, and it just keeps feeling more true.“ He slapped the catalogue down in his lap, and shut his eyes to rub at them under his glasses with thumb and forefinger. “Look, I’m bad at asking for help. So: This is me asking for help. I know you don’t have to help me and that it’s probably prudent to ditch me... but I hope having me in your life means more to you than that.”

He held out the booklet turned to the relevant page. Sticks leaned to take it, and looked it over, uncurling the front half to inspect the cover, then back to the items. He face slacked in earnest as he flipped over to a locations listing.

“The closest one was Nashua, you said? Lexington didn’t have them?”

“I lived in the Lexington Walden’s stock room for months before it went up in flames. What I’ve got is the best I could find. Only the warehouses that stocked hospitals would have what’s on that page. They’re surgical grade. ...The Merrimack swallowed up the Lowell General Hospital, didn’t it?“ He slumped, unable to recall the building in the skyline as they’d passed through Downtown Historic. “You have no idea how badly I want to stay put. I love it here, with the bathtub, with the bed, with the you... But...” The idea of it eroded him to trembling. “I know it’s a long way. Especially on foot. But I can’t do it with just Angel. Especially since it’s out of ammo.”

“No, no. If you need this, then we need this. We needed a good reason to blow this place for a while. The Unfolded may seem to want to continue respecting the history this place has, Glenn Johnny’s included... But Lowell as a whole? They weren’t out here on exterminator duty, Mindy. They were doing recon on the locks and channels equipment. For the General.”

That nearly knocked ‘Choly out of the chair. When it clicked, he paled numb.

“The fuck do they want to-- Oh. Oh no.”

“Yeah. I’m not happy about it, either. Bare minimum, it’s gonna be like when a company puts a new building in. Except you and I both know that wont just be, what was it? Skunks? But worst case scenario? I don’t even want to begin to speculate what they plan to do with the river.” Weary, Sticks circled back to the catalogue. “Have you got a time estimate for this little recon? How long you think it’ll take to get there, and how long you intend to stick around?”

“I’m not sure. Does it matter much? We’re in agreement that a change of scenery’s desirable.”

Sticks traced at the details on the page, distant and in deep thought.

“It’s not just a change of scenery, is the thing. It’s a change of climate. I don’t know if you realize this, but Lowell’s on the southern threshold of the Hinter... and we’re coming up on Nor’easter season. Sure, the wildlife has got all big and wild, but so’s the weather. I’ll be mostly all right up there, being a ghoul, provided our shelter’s sound. But you? And the Handy?” The ghoul waved off his own train of thought. “You know what. Don’t sweat it. We’ll manage this. My experience, your grey matter.”

“Nor’easters? You’re worried over a chance there’s one this year? I’ve weathered dozens of ice storms in my life. Even a few hurricanes. And you’re a native Yankee, so you’ve got to have, too. We’ll be fine.” Denial wheezed from his nostrils, his lips pressed together tight. “I know it will put us even further from New Hampshire, but I do have one obligation first. I have to go to Billerica, to escort someone to the Concord suburbs. I should’ve taken them to safety before getting here, but I also didn’t know what I was getting myself into. They’ve been waiting for the Lowell conflict to blow over, and like me, they’re the last survivor of their location. I would have had to go check on them soon even if we stayed here.”

The ghoul squinted at him.

“Hazarding you’re confident they couldn’t just travel there themselves.”

“It shouldn’t take long at all!” ‘Choly threw his hands up. “One day, tops. We just need to get from here to there to Sanctuary Hills. It’s a Mister Handy. I couldn’t have brought it to Lowell and just left it. And it just feels too many kinds of wrong to just leave it all alone there, when it could be among some normal people again for once.”

Sticks weighed the various aspects about the proposition that didn’t sit well.

“If you’re having trouble just walking, do you suppose you’ll be in any condition to ride Angel down?”

“I, I don’t know.” 'Choly wilted into begging that left his companion too tongue-tied to object all the while. “We’ll figure that out, too! And you know what? This trip to Nashua isn’t just for me. Partners. I meant it, that we’re in this together. The long haul. The Lexington Walden was a smaller location, and even it had a sizable chem lab arrangement, with a large cache of stock. The Nashua Walden was classified as a full regional warehouse: it shipped to a dozen locations in the New England Commonwealth. Olivia gave me all those military chem formulas. That is what you were looking for just now, weren’t you? I’m as interested as you, to see what all I can make from a chem cookbook culminated from two hundred years of research.”

Sticks sat up at once and looked to him knowingly. He swatted his knee with the catalogue.

“Now that, I like to hear! What initiative! We’ll start out for all this tomorrow. You hear me? Let’s get to gathering things up tonight. We can do a once-over in the morning to make sure we’re not leaving anything important behind.”

“You’re not exhausted after all that stuff downstairs? After cooking for thirty?”

‘Choly felt even more pathetic than he sounded. He hadn’t even lifted a finger with a thing, yet was this worn out.

“We’ll go until we pass out, at least. We’ll sleep better that way. Hey Angel!” Sticks called out for the robot. “Set down that broom and dustpan for a bit and help us out up here!” He chortled excitedly. “Ohh, bless it all. You want to cook chems for me. And you want to wear this for me. I could kiss you.”

Something between a grimace and a grin tore ‘Choly’s face.

“You... you could kiss me, you know.”

“You’re not wrong.” Sticks swept him up in both arms and plopped him back on the freshly made bed, only narrowly taking the care to be delicate with him. He leaned down over the top of him, a hand to each side of ‘Choly’s shoulders, to smooch him. “We’re great together. You know that, right?”

‘Choly squinted awkwardly, and reached to turn off the screen light on Sticks’s Pip-Boy. He pulled him into another kiss, and looked him in the eye with adoration.

“Always have been.”

“I’ll have you know I’ve no intention of leaving this place without first cleaning up after such horrid house guests.” Angel scoffed in frustration as it appeared upstairs, oblivious to the pair making out on the bed. “And I hate to be the bearer of such information, but if I’m to carry Mister Carey, we must pack as light as possible. It’s not to guilt you, Sir, but even with the refinements you’ve made to my hydraulics, the added weight does result in a higher fuel expenditure. My ammunition isn’t the only thing running low after this week.”

“So we’ll make more frequent refueling pit stops for you, buddy,” Sticks mumbled over his shoulder, still pecking all over ‘Choly’s face and neck and shoulders where he could get at it. The little creep soaked it all up, squirming like it tickled. “You just worry about carrying Carey here. Anything heavy I need to bring, I’ll carry myself.”

‘Choly grabbed his face to get his attention.

“Hey. Maybe Angel could carry all the supplies, and you carry me? I’ve got to weigh less than that Flamer did, and you hefted that thing all over town without hardly ever setting it down.”

The ghoul melted into dopey chuff.

“Mindy. Babe. You do not weigh less than a Flamer.” He smiled, heavy lidded. “You’re on something, though. Sounds like it might work. I can guarantee you, that everything I’m bringing totally weighs less than you. So if I carry you, and Angel carries everything I’m bringing, that’s less strain on its flame.”

“Can I entrust you with my most precious cargo, Mister Hawthorne?”

He planted one more forceful smooch on ‘Choly before meeting gazes in a dreamy determination.

“He’s my prize, too, ya know.”

Go to Next »»»

#fallout fanfic #fallout 4 fanfic #fallout 4 #fallout #fo4 #sole survivor #mister handy #ghoul oc #melancholy #angel #sticks #the anatomy of melancholy #mm designer bags under my everything and everywhere #disobedient daily dress intensifies

[creepypasta-fandom-is-trash]

what is your origin story for EJ

Well…it was something like this….

Warm sun glows and glitters down onto the small boy’s head. His little knees tucked up close to his stomach, leaving only enough room for the comically large book resting in his lap. A tiny pair of glasses slip slowly down the child’s nose as his blue orbs race across the page.  Small black frames contrasting wildly against his ivory colored skin and glassy eyes. Little brown curls dance down Jack’s forehead as the wind brushes softly against his frame. The scent of grass and wildflowers engulfing the boy as he frantically consumes the contents of the book under his hands.

“ In summary, the cornea is the clear, transparent front covering which admits light and begins the refractive process. It also keeps foreign particles from entering the eye,” Jack mumbles as he reads, the medical textbook weighing down his miniscule body as he squirms in place. The bark of an old oak tree scratches at the boy’s back through his red t-shirt, but that hardly bothers the freckly kid.

“Jack???” A deep, soft voice calls out from a distance “Jack, where are you??” Upon hearing his father’s voice, the boy curls up tighter in his spot, and tries to hide between the covers of the book. Heavy footsteps approach rapidly from behind him, soft worried huffing following. The sight of his father’s blue jeans out the corner of his eyes causes Jacky to shrink up further.

“I’m not here,” He whispers feebly, trying with all his 7-year-old might to hide from his father.

“Jack, what on earth have I told you about taking my textbooks?” his father crouches down besides him.

“That these are very expensive,” Jack mumbles.

“And?

"And you don’t want to lose me….” A shameful flush crosses the boy’s cheeks. “That’s right Jay,” the father scoops him up effortlessly. Naturally, Jack grumbles and squirms, trying to protest the affection from his father. Because, as all humans know, being loved by your parent is sooooo uncool when you’re in third grade.  

“Dad stop,” the boy growls softly, trying to crawl out of his parent’s arms. A heavy sigh leaves the older man.

“One day you'lml wish you had a dad around,” he hums

“Never!” the midget whines.

“Wanna bet?”

“yeah, five bucks!”

Apparently to Jack, five dollars is prime real estate.

“Alright kid. I’ll take you up on your offer….”

A soft gasp escapes Jack’s soft pale being as he jerks up in bed. Papers fall from his messy covers and scatter onto the floor with a dramatic flutter. Panting, Jack runs his hands through his wild mane of near-black hair, trying to will away the cold sweat running down his back. Despite his thin t-shirt, the poor man feels both ridiculously hot and frighteningly cold at the same time.

A sense of throbbing loneliness crosses over Jack as he turns his gaze over to the dark nightstand to his left. A series of small knick knacks lay scattered about. A half-solved rubik’s cube, some broken pens, a picture of mom and dad…A small alarm clock on the desk reads off five-o-clock a.m. The red glow of the little numbers hardly registers in the mind of the man as he sleepily tries to gather himself together.

“Ugh,” Jack grumbles, slipping out of the bed and searching meekly for his clothes. A huff comes from his bunkmate, the weed-scented teen rolling over in his fitful sleep.  Cringing, the spindly man slips into his clothes and snatches his backpack off the floor.

“Keep it down,” groans his buzzed roommate. his gastly complexion obvious as he grabs his blanket and drowns his himself in it.

“Shut up grassyass,” retorts the scholar as he angrily storms from the tiny dorm. The halls glow dimly with lights plugged into the wall,  just enough lighting to allow those drunk and late-working students to return to their dorms with semi-accuracy. Jack’s time-worn shoes thump against the floor clumsily as  he traverses this strange area. Of course the day wont be of any particular excitement. And Jack is very much aware of this trivial fact. And it is in his mind something else to not care about. His mind is on the schedule.

“Advanced Anatomy, Chemistry 104, Med lab no. 2….” Mumbling is what brings Jack comfort as he walks down the many flight of stairs to his earliest classes. Though mumbling is probably an issue when it comes to paying attention to the hallways.

“fuck,” grunts a random student walking down the halls, his shoulders slumped and head cast downward.

“pardon?” Jack hums, turning back to the stranger to see if he is okay.

“You should have bumped into me,” the freak grunts “It would have been a life saver.” And with that, the stranger rushes off, his face pointed to the end of the hallway as if it were an angel sent from heaven. Confusion fills the poor college student as he watches the freakish man stand at the end of the hall.

“what?…” Jack mumbles, slowly turning and rushing away from the teen.

Despite not seeing the strange student again for the rest of the morning, Jack can’t help but feel watched, The burning gaze of unseen eyes trailing along his shoulders and head as he walks briskly around campus.

The warm spring air felt suffocating against his neck as he meandered among the lazy old spruce trees and mildly exhausted students. Nothing felt better than a blast of cool air inside the main recreation center attached to the cafeteria. Sitting inside, the young man munches disdainfully on a sub sandwich, his back hurting from hours of hunching over papers. Softly, as if it were merely from a dream, a soft song begins to play from Jack’s backpack. It’s an old jingle on the piano, one that his mother used to play when he wouldn’t go to bed at night. Quickly snatching his phone from the bag, he answers.

“Hello?” grumbles the student, “who is this?

”“who is this?” Jests a familiar deep voice “Jeez kid I didn’t think you’d forget me like this.” A soft rush of shame crosses Jack’s body as he wiggles awkwardly in his spot.

“Sorry dad,” he hums “I guess I’ve just been on edge all day…”

“I should expect so,” His father replies with pride “My boy is getting his PhD in neurosurgery next month! At the age of twenty-hecking-four!” A blush covers Jack’s freckly face as he looks away from  his fellow students.

“Dad…” He grumbles “C'mon it’s no that big of a deal” A scoff comes from the speaker.

“Not that big of a deal my ass, your mother and I are counting down the days until we get to be there for your graduation!!” Warmth blossoms in Jack’s chest as he listens to his father blabber on about his accomplishments.  The other students cast him strange looks as they pass by, his awkward form curled up on the floor blushing and listening to his phone. Sadly checking the time, Jack reluctantly clears his throat.

“Dad, I need to go to my next lab,” Jack interrupts, awkwardly packing his things together.

“Okay kiddo,” his father chuckles in return

“We love you, kid.”

“love you too dad.”

Worrying is never a good idea, when it comes to issues it is best to merely assess your options and acquire the tools necessary to fix it. The solution to many problems is just a walk in the park. Or in this case, a walk in the forest. Soft moist earth is crushed easily under Jacks worn red sneakers as the tired boy meanders through the hiking trails by the campus. Old birch and oak trees sway and dance in the light wind. Jack���s favorite thing about being in the woods is the seclusion.

Cool breezes rush over his head and tousle his hair as he meanders down the trail. Finally, after a day of racing around and avoiding the eyes of unseen watchers, it’s nice to relax. With each step Jack finds himself more relaxed, more relieved from his fears.   The sun creeps down behind the distant hills, the crickets calling out to each other as the world around them darkens. Owls hoot and holler from their perches on the treetops, breaking the peaceful silence. Soft bubbling of a nearby creek bringing a small smile to Jack’s face. Turning his head, the exhausted college students note several people in a clearing surrounded by heavy bags and random items.

"Campers?” Jack mumbles “on a Tuesday??” confusion fills the man’s chest as he slowly meanders away from the rapidly darkening clearing. Probably just a bunch of stoners, its not uncommon for kids like that to hide out in the forest to hide the smell of their smoke. Nonetheless, the sapphire-eyed man shuffles further into the forest.

Eventually, the sun does set, and the night takes hold of the forest. And, being a man with poor directional skill, Jack finds himself hopelessly lost. Confusion absolutely consumes the tall sleepy man as he paces confusedly in a small clear patch within the forest.

“Hey man, what are you doing here?” A voice cuts into Jack’s worried meandering. Looking up, Jack’s eyes meet dirty blue ones. A dark-haired guy a few years younger than him with bushy sideburns on his cheeks and a tattered old jacket covering his frame.

 "I’m lost,“ Jack replies, nervously rubbing the back of his head "Could you point me back towards my college? Faraday University?” The strange, tired-looking man points down a random trail.

“That way…” He grumbles “It’s best not to come to these parts right now, kid.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m older than you, bub,” Jack chuckles, shoving his hands into his pockets “But thanks!” the man adjusts his tan jacket and huffs, shaking his head.

“Jeez,” the stranger mumbles “Richard would love you.” Confused, Jack casts the strange man a soft scowl before racing off down the trail.

“weirdo…” Jack grumbles as he stumbles head first into a projectile rock.

Thunk

Pain thumps through Jack’s head as he wriggles on the ground. A soft trickle of blood racing down his forehead as he squirms. The sensation of rough rope around his ankles and wrists squeezes and tugs at his soft pale skin. Slowly, Jack opens his eyes, the blaring light from flashlights surrounding him.

“He is awake” hums one of the hooded people standing to his right “Prepare the tools.” reality comes crashing back down onto Jack as he looks around. The rope bites down into his skin and causes his wrists to bleed, panic fills his chest like ice water and sweat races down his neck. Arms and legs held apart by rope, Jack yanks and struggles violently against his bindings. A choked sob escapes his throat as two cloaked individuals kneel by his head.

“Hush now,” whispers a soft, feminine voice “This is for the good of the world.” Pure excitement shakes in the young woman’s voice as she places her hands on Jack’s forehead, coating her delicate fingers in crimson as she forces him to lay flat on the ground. A second person pries open Jack’s mouth and jaws with their fingers, not minding the harsh bites they received from the pale kidnappee. Forcing a strange metal contraption into Jack’s mouth, the hooded freak forces the young man’s jaws to be held in place by the mechanism. Soft fearful wails escaped Jack’s maw as he tries to struggle. “Help…” He thinks desperately, his throat growing hoarse from yelling. A third person approaches, sitting on his chest and preparing a metal spike in their hands. Pressing the tip of the spike onto Jack’s front teeth, the stranger pulls a mallet from their cloak. Fear-laced tears bubble out of Jack’s eyes as he wails helplessly.

CRACK

A pain-filled scream escapes the poor college student as the spike snaps his front teeth. Blood fills Jack’s mouth as he gurgles and writhes in place. The spike is placed close to his molars.

CRACK

CRACK

CRACK

Horrible screams leave Jack’s mouth, the urge to vomit rising as his tongue is coated in his mutilated teeth shards and blood. Quickly, the metal bit is moved from his jaws and the hooded figures back off. As soon as they do so, Jack heaves and vomits onto the ground beside his head.

“Help me!” He screams “Please! Someone! Anyone!” Slowly, the cult around him begin to dig, burying their hands into the earth and flinging clods of muck everywhere. A large circular moat forms around Jack, his body sore and filthy form. Blood trickles down from Jack’s mouth as he heaves and sobs softly. With some hesitation, Jack closes his eyes to shield himself from the scene. “Mom…Dad…” Jack’s mind wanders in a pain-induced stupor “I’m so sorry…” Hands grab and tug at his shoes and arms, the stranger tugging at his fingers and yanking off his socks.  

“I love you both so much”

A metal piece is shoved under his right thumbnail, prying up his nail and yanking it off.

“I wish I could have made you proud of me”

Pliers meticulously remove his toenails, the sickening cracking and snapping of his skin and nails ringing out like gong strikes.

“I wish I could come home”

Soon, his fingernails are gone, the pain pulsing up his arms and legs as blood gushes wildly from his hands.

"I wish I could be there…”

With all of his nails removed, Jack opens his eyes feebly, noting the hot ring of soon-to-be fire in the trench. But this discovery is hardly  important as Jack’s head is forced to face the sky. Soft chanting emits from the strangers around him, soft rhythmic chanting from a language that Jack has never really heard like this.

“Thank you,” Whispers a soft, delicate voice from his right “You will make a mighty fine vessel for our lord.” faint confusion fills Jack’s body as he stares up into the starless, moonless night sky.

Suddenly, the metal spike returns, pushing in between his eyelid and eye and digging into the socket. A fresh volley of pained screams escape from Jack’s mouth as the eyelid is stretched wider. A scoop-shaped something pushes up underneath his eyeball, forcing the delicate skin to the sides of his eye to rip open and bleed profusely. Pain pulses through his skin and bones as a wild, animal-like wail fills the air. Soon, with another sharp burst of pain, all sight fades away from Jack’s right eye. A soft, disgusting slurping sound can be heard over the ringing in Jack’s ears. With his one working eye, Jack sees the beautiful blue form of his right eye being dropped into a small jar.

The chanting grows ever louder as a final hooded figure stands over Jack’s legs, straddling his thighs and forcing him to be immobile.  With his attention focused on the new hooded cultist, Jack hardly notices the tugging of his left eyelid until the bloody spike is shoved into it. A pained wail is all that Jack can manage as the man standing above him readies what looks to be a large sledgehammer. The scoop comes under his left eye and the familiar sensation of skin tearing by his eyes comes again.  

Just as the scoop tears out Jack’s left eye, the man swings the sledgehammer down into his right hip like a wrecking ball.

C R A C K

A violent scream of pain fills the air as Jack’s tailbone snaps, his body flooding with intense pain. The urge to vomit rises up again, yet Jack can’t gather the strength to move, his body broken by the horrible things that have happened. Footsteps indicate that the cult is stepping back.

“ пожалуйста, ребенок, открой себя нашему хозяину” someone in the group grumbles, stepping closer and kneeling down by Jack’s head. Slowly, the group begins to chant softly.

“ восхвалять повелителя , восхвалять повелителя , восхвалять повелителя ,восхвалять повелителя  ,восхвалять повелителя….”

And with the finality of a mother whispering softly to their baby, the woman kneeling by Jack’s head murmurs into his ear.

“Chernobog.”

Confusion was short-lived with Jack as his eyelids are pried open and scalding hot liquid is poured inside. The smell of singed flesh and hair filling the air along with the foul stench of tar and brimstone as the liquid in his eye sockets pool down and out from between his eyelids.  Pain, anguish, fear,  no longer is Jack able to comprehend the world around him as the shock sets in. And the world goes black…

#eyeless jack #eyeless jack origin

[girlnextdoorhitchcockblonde]

Nothing Left to the Imagination

“No, Veronica! You come in. I’m not going out in this!” she exclaimed when Veronica called for her to come out of the dressing room to show her the lingerie set she had chosen for Betty after Betty had explained that Jug and her hadn’t really gotten close to being together after their almost-first-time interruption. 

It had been Veronica’s idea to dress Betty up-or rather down for the ocassion taking her shopping to a place Betty had never heard of with a French name that sounded so much like a spy-stripper name. Once at Agent Provocateur Betty had gone pale, nothing was inexpensive and nothing had more fabric than was strictly necessary not to cover but to decorate her privates. 

“It’s like wrapping a present, he wont be able to say not to this. Channel your bad girl, Betty Cooper.” She had encouraged and Betty finally relented. Now, after having tried several ‘outfits’ she had finally called out that she thought she liked one. It was a completely see-through black lace one piece that looked not unlike a very naked version of a bathing suit except that the lace wasn’t floral as it usually was but rather a long snake coiled just so, it’s head and tongue on her most private of places, leaving the rest of her peaking through. 

“Girl, you look hot. My treat.” And with that the deal was done, she couldn’t back out now.

//

Jughead and Betty had been meeting at the trailer every Friday ever since he’d been transferred. Usually, she waited outside for him if he hadn’t gotten there yet, but not today. Today she had made sure to leave school as soon as the bell rang and nearly ran south to the trailer, letting herself and locking herself in the bathroom. She did her makeup paying attention to detail, smokey eyeshadow brought out the sparkle in her green eyes and red lips made her feel more confident than she had in ages. Then, of course, there was the bodysuit and the highest patent leather shoes she had ever seen, which Veronica had insisted were perfect, the little ankle strap held together by tiny locks not unlike the ones that closed her diaries and journals. 

She had decided she was showing far too much for when he got home, so she grabbed his leather jacket, putting it on and letting it cover almost everything, except the snake’s head. 

She was sitting on the couch facing the door, legs crossed, eyebrow cocked and arms on the backrest. She looked like all legs and a leather jacket, while she sat he wouldn’t be able to really appreciate the outfit. She felt sick to her stomach, maybe he wouldn’t like it, or he wouldn’t be in the mood, or maybe it had been a bad day and all he needed was a friend and here she was throwing herself at him, but she didn’t have time to go change because he walked in without really expecting her to be there and therefore, not looking. He took off his hat and dropped his bag off by the door before finally looking up from his phone and seeing her. 

“Bets?”

“Welcome home, Juggie.” She smirked, something she had practiced in front of the mirror to make sure it came out right and then, she stood, and she saw his eyes widen and his stance change. 

Jughead licked his lips, after the day he’d had he expected a lot of things, to see her, to talk to her, maybe even watch a movie while kissing and try to touch her a little more than usual, but he had not expected or even dreamt of this angel in front of him looking anything but innocent and sweet. 

Being a teenage boy, there were very few reactions he could have, and he was having all of them, his brain had gone blank, his eyes kept moving up and down her body trying to confirm that this was real and lastly, he changed his stance as his pants tented, blushing that he couldn’t seem to control himself around her. It took what felt like a long time but was probably nothing more than thirty seconds to react, walking towards her and grabbing each side of the jacket so the zip was biting into his palms and pull her into a kiss. 

“And what a welcome home it is.” He said, voice low, a hand moving around her under the jacket to press on her lower back, pressing their bodies together, eyes darting back to her lips and then back to her eyes and licking his own lips again. 

Betty leaned forward this time, taking his bottom lip between her teeth and pulling ever so lightly. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” She teased as they had when they were kids, never really showing anything back then, but oh, had things changed. She moved her hands up his torso, pushing his shirt up until it was off and on the floor, they’d done this part before, but not much more. 

“Fuck, Bets...” He sighed and pulled her into another kiss that was all lust and teeth and desire that made the world melt at their feet leaving only them standing in a puddle. He pushed the leather jacket off her shoulders and let it drop behind her, only then realizing the full extent of what she was wearing. It took two seconds flat for him to pick her up and push her against the wall, attacking her neck with kisses sure to mark her to let everyone know she was taken, she was his. 

“Fuck, Betty, when did you buy this? What were you thinking?” He asked between kisses and bites on her jaw and her neck. She had wrapped her legs around his waist but this wasn’t any good, she was soaking wet and dripping for him, and couldn’t feel him at all.

“I want you. That’s what I was thinking.” She managed, already a little breathless and heart beating at a mile a minute. He groaned at the words and making sure his hands were securely on her ass to hold her whole weight brought her over to the bed, nearly throwing her on it and immediately grabbing her wrists to hold above her head.

“What do you want?” He growled.

“You.” She said again, but that wasn’t good enough and he lifted his body off of her, eyes locked on hers until he got a better answer. “All of you. I want you to touch me.” And when he still didn’t move, she didn’t realize it was because the words had almost broken him, so she tried again, “I want you to make me cum.” And that undid any possible want Jughead had to make her wait. 

He started kissing down her body over the fabric, there was so little left to the imagination, he could see where her nipples pressed the fabric up and he followed the body of the snake, kissing and licking down the path until he got to the head and looking up at her while he lapped at her center slowly, making her body arch towards him, asking for more. 

He groaned and moved the fabric to the side, for the first time seeing her, pink and pretty and wet just for him, he licked her again, this time pressing his tongue against the spot he had read so much about and when she twitched, the satisfaction that flooded him was enough to make him want to keep going. He licked and lapped and even sucked on her clit, he was hungry for her and she was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. 

Jughead paid attention to each moan and groan and whimper, each gasp and each word falling from her lips like prayers until he heard the most beautiful words, “Jug I-I’m- I’m gonna...oh, Fuck!” and just like that he felt her tighten around his tongue which he’d only at the last possible second had pushed inside her and he nearly came himself wondering what it would feel like to have her tighten like that around his hard on, currently throbbing painfully against the zipper of his jeans. 

“S-So-Sorry...I’m sorr- I’m sorry, I couldn’t h-” Betty tried, but Jughead just climbed her body and kissed her, leaving them both panting and dazed. “Did you like it?” He asked, smirk evident on his tone. She hit his shoulder in response and he chuckled, kissing her cheek and lowering his lips to whisper in her ear, “Good, because we’re not done yet, you’re going to scream my name.”

His voice was so deep and lustful all she could do was nod, she wanted everything he had to give, she wanted everything he could possibly show her and she knew that it would be the whole universe from different solar systems. He was going to take her to the stars and back. 

“Betty, look at me.” He commanded and she did, and she found adoration in his eyes, she found trust and understanding, and she knew that he was excited, but he still took the time to ask, “Are you okay? Can I...” she nodded before he could finish the question and he smiled. “Are you sure?” He asked and she sighed, moving her hands to his shoulders and pulling him down for a slow, tender kiss.

They kissed until they were breathless all over again, her hands traveling in soft circles around his shoulders and his back, his torso, and soon enough, popping open the buttons of his jeans, which made him groan in relief as the zipper moved down all on it’s own from the pressure alone. 

Betty didn’t hesitate, knowing that if she thought about it, she’d back out from fear of failure alone and slipped her hand into his pants, cupping him and feeling him for the first time. He was hot and heavy, thicker than she’d thought, though not bigger since she’d felt him before she already knew he was big enough for her to worry a little about him fitting which no matter how much anatomy she knew she just couldn’t imagine it possible. 

No sooner was her hand on him than his hips buckled, and he was perfectly happy doing nothing but this if it was what she wanted but then she spoke and he swore his brain melted and dripped from his ears because she couldn’t possibly have said ‘take them off, Jug.’ when he didn’t move, she started pushing his pants down as much as she could from her position below him. 

“Please?” she added and then he was a lightning bolt, getting up and kicking off his pants and underwear, and was left standing there, naked, looking at her slightly up, her weight on her forearms behind her, the small, barely there bodysuit stretched so thin over her body that he saw ivory through the black lace and his eyes followed the line of her body as she used one hand to reach back and undo the single clasp keeping it all in place. “Help me out of this?” Her voice was so small and sweet, it was difficult to understand where this sultry woman with kiss swollen lips and smudged lipstick ended and the innocent angel he knew so well begun but that didn’t matter because it wasn’t two people, it was one beautiful person and she was all his.

With shaking hands he helped her out of the lingerie and started kissing down her body all over again, following the same path he had before, but now taking his time with her nipples and her making sure he marked her everywhere and when found a familiar warmth between her legs, she tangled a hand on his hair to pull him up gently until their lips were aligned but not touching. 

It was slow, the way she wrapped a leg around him, the way he balanced his weight on one arm while he used his hand to align himself with her, letting her feel him a little, having to close his eyes tightly so as to hold onto his sanity and then ever so slowly pushing in, stopping every time she winced or bit her lip and using every ounce of self control he had to let her adjust around him. “Are you okay?” was a question that fell from his lips a million times and she nodded each and every time. 

It took long minutes before he was fully inside her, and when he was, they were both breathing heavily and covered in a thin layer of sweat, her nails digging into his back. “J-Juggie...move, please.” And it was all he needed to hear because he had never done anything quite as difficult as staying still inside Betty Cooper.

He moved carefully at first as they both tested what this felt like, what it was like to move together. They had started with different rhythms, moving in small, jerky thrusts until they found the flow of their bodies, following one another, learning how to move and what made the other gasp or groan. It being their first time, they didn’t know what to expect and as they moved and stimulated each other as best they knew how for now, they both began spiraling out of control, moving faster and with more reckless abandon, now pants turned to moans and before they knew what was happening, Jughead was releasing himself inside of her and she waS tightening around him with such force that they both saw the universe. 

//

They were laying next to each other, nude and covered by the bedsheets they’d burrowed under when embarrassment settled. “Wow.” She said with a blush.

“Sorry I didn’t last longer, you’re...you feel...” he tried to explain, words escaping him like they only did around Betty. 

“I couldn’t have lasted longer either.” She blushed even deeper and then turned quickly, pecking his cheek. “Hey, Jug?” She smirked, the look now feeling comfortable on her face, “I guess we’ll have to practice a lot, huh?” she waggled her eyebrows at him, making him laugh and jump at her to kiss her senseless. 

#solo #jughead x betty #jughead x betty fanfiction #jughead x betty fanfic #betty x jughead #betty x jughead fanfiction #betty x jughead fanfic #bughead #bughead fanfiction #bughead fanfic #jughead and betty #jughead and betty fanfic #jughead and betty fanfiction #betty and jughead fanfiction #betty and jughead #betty and jughead fanfic #riverdale #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale fanfic