#i see those fuckers i shred then

[corvigae]

I keep having to tear down extremely predatory/misleading Scien.tology flyers in my school's art building. This is the third fucking time I've ripped the fuckers up and I'm getting Real Fucking Tired of it.

#they're masquerading as a mental helth help line it's disgusting #the ONLY clue that it's a fucking cult is the tiny print that says 'copyright hubbard dianetics' #personal grumblings #i'm fucking graduating i don't give a fuck abt appearing nice or accepting #i see those fuckers i shred then

[teteminne]

If i see a single croatian celebrating this win as if you didn't play one of the uglyest and dirtyest games I've even seen in all my life I will literally freak the fuck out. Yeah you passed but you didn't play as well as we did, KNEW you couldn't play as well as we did, and made up for it by basically manhadling and trying to BREAK our players on field while the fucking corrupt judge watched on and did nothing. A Croatian player literally had a finger in Anthony's mouth as he pushed his face down and the judge did nothing. You might've won but you won dirty and if that was my team I'd be ashamed to celebrate - but then, that's what Europeans do, isn't it? Your game is ugly and brute and barbaric, and you have no shame about it. Fuck all of you honestly.

#world cup #im so mad rn i feel like i could cry #to see anthony crying on that field after almost being torn to shreds by those dishonest fuckers was so sad #the commentators were saying all the time that the croatians weren't really playing the game #they were trying to strech it out to penalties #but oh well #at least i can go to sleep knowing my team played well and fair and PRETTY #which is more than any croatian can say #will be happily waiting to hear of their elimination #in this cup and all others #bc im a brazilian and can hold a fucking grudge #ps: the croatians were trying to stretch the game out to penalties like they did before #it seems they know they can't rlly play otherwise

[fhrlclln]

miguel o’hara x assistant!fem! reader pt. 2

hi!! UR GIRLY JUST TOOK THE UPCAT (ISKOLAR NG BAYAN WISHING 🤞🏻✅) anyways here’s part 2 cuz i desperately needed to cool off after taking that very hard exam but anyways.

here’s part 1 of this lil dirty fic!!

nsfw under the cut

｡･:*˚:✧｡

miguel wouldn’t admit it but… it was kinda pathetic on his part he had to go so far to poke you around until you two exploded with each other. not that it wasn’t his thing for snapping at people but he did sometimes take a lot of that behavior of his on you. but he couldn’t help it, you know? do you even know how fucking hard he was controlling himself back the moment you signed up for him? how eager you were to work beside him when the spider-society was created? did you even know the nights he spends jacking off when you came around wearing that same black pencil skirt you were wearing that hugged your ass so perfectly? how the way you practically challenged him on arguments and so? how that look on your face when he towers over you made his dick go hard?

no.

so yeah, your his fault really.

“fuck…” he groans out as you gripped his hair tight between your fingers. nails scratching his scalp as you bucked your hips against his mouth, cunt rubbing on his face as he slurps, taking every juice your sweet pussy leaks out for him. only for him.

“so sweet, cariño. ‘s practically happy to see me.” he sighs out between his kisses and slurps, drowning in, giving you every bit of pleasure like he feels when you tell him or practically whine for him to give you more. he’ll give you everything really.

“miguel. please. need you more.” you huff out, it’s been a good handful of minutes since he started devouring your cunt like a starved man. man practically ripped your underwear with his fangs and hands as he threw it somewhere across the room. but you wanted him so much more, practically missed the way he was towering over you a while ago.

“what’d i say, huh?” he breaks away from your cunt, lips messy and wet as you stared down at him with teary and lustful eyes. “i’m being nice.” he kisses your thigh again, nipping it lightly as he finally stands up. your eyes shoot down to see the evident bulge on his spider suit but you knew that wasn’t the entirety of it knowing that damn suit is so damn tight on his body. not that you didn’t like the

“it’ll be even nicer if you get in me.” you cooed, a little breathless as you opened your legs wider. he lets out a little laugh as he ducks down to kiss you. you sigh happily between his lips, getting to grip his shoulders as he starts removing the buttons on your blouse.

“mhm. can’t even wait for it, huh? that desperate for cock, amor?” he grins between your lips as impatience took over him when he saw your pretty little bra concealing your breasts, he had to cut it off as purposely retract out those claws he’s hiding making you squeal at the sudden movement. the sharp snap of your bra shredded.

“miguel!“

“shut it.” he says, tossing the ruined lacy bra over his shoulder as you pouted, wriggling out of your blouse as he bends down to capture your nipple between his teeth, careful to be gentle knowing his fangs. you sigh out, caressing his tousled hair as miguel turned his attention to the other one while his hand reached to cup his crotch, groaning as he relieved the pressure a bit in the area.

“mierda. open those legs wide again, cariño.” he commands, tapping your thighs. “hurry up.”

impatient fucker. you roll your eyes, even in sex he was still taking the leadership role. “if you weren’t so keen shredding my bra off, we would be doing so much-“

“that mouth ain’t gonna shut up, huh?” he tsks as he grips your hips tight, pulling to him for your crotch to be flushed against his making you shut up.

“‘s rude interrupting me every damn sentence, you know.” you grumbled grinding down, gasping a bit when the warmth of his cock was replaced, expecting his tight suit you were gonna be grinding on. you look down, seeing the suit opened in that area, you look puzzled, knowing how advanced his suit is but you didn’t expect this? you thought the feature was mainly for his upper body, seeing countless times he was injecting himself with that drug he uses. rapture?

“that’s cool.” you tilt your head to the side, grinning seeing how flushed red his cock was. the tip angry and swelling with precum.

“and it’s rude to stare, sweetie.” he retorts from your previous complaint. he grips himself as you place kisses on his neck up to his lips, hugging him close as your feet wrapped around his tiny waist, the tip of his cock nudging between your folds. he sighs out, pushing in as he rests his forehead against yours. breaths mingled, heat tingling, the way your walls welcomed him with that searing wet warmth he dreamed of every night. fuck, he was in heaven. you gripped his shoulders hard, clawing on his muscles, he was big, too big and girthy but you couldn’t stop now.

“‘s so big, miguel.” you whined, naked breasts squishing on his hard chest, nipples hard as ever as you stared at his red beady eyes. “so big…”

“yeah, i know, but you can take it, can you? i know this sweet pussy can take it.” he whispers, kissing you softly. “be a good girl and take my cock.”

“mhmm…” you moaned as he slowly but surely pushed in further, gripping your ass tight as he slapped them both making you whine.

“so good, so fucking tight and wet. ‘s dripping.” he chuckles as you groan out when he bottoms in, crotch flushed against each other, your clit close to his abdomen.

“oh, god…” you tap his shoulders, wanting him to move but he knew you had to adjust first to his length, he didn’t wanna hurt you in anyway.

“be patient.” he whispers harshly, slapping your ass again, making you buck your hips.

“i am!”

“doesn’t look like it, amor.” your heart flutters again at the endearment. miguel smirks as he gives in, liking the way you get all so shy all of the sudden. he thrusts experimentally, feeling your walls slightly unclamp around his cock which makes him groan out when you clamp around him again. you stare down to where his cock is finally moving, it’s all a stupor now in your mushed brain as miguel grinned from above when he stills for a moment, half of his cock out, leaving you writhing for the fullness you crave.

he slams back in almost immediately, you yelp gripping tightly on his big biceps as he starts thrusting, pounding into you relentlessly now. miguel groans as he watches you helplessly gripping on him, he knew you’d tire out as he watches you with smug-ass grin when you lean backward, elbows resting on the desk, head tilting back as you closed your eyes, a chorus of moans and whimpers coming out of your lips as he fucks you good.

“good girl.” he praises as claws on your waist, biting his lip hearing those wet squelches emit inside of his lab along with your breathless voice begging him for more, to go harder. he, of course, listens as he adjusts you to tower over your leaned frame. kissing you with much tongue and teeth. his hearts pounding uncontrollably when you spit out how good he is and when you finally open your eyes and grin at him when you catch him staring at you in daze and quiet admiration.

shit. he’s got it bad.

he groans when he notices you getting a little pitchier in your moans, your legs around his waist constricted and your walls clamped around his cock tight, signaling you’re almost there. he smirks, one hand reaching down to rub that clit a few times, still pounding hard until you finally shoot up and squeal, wrapping your arms around his neck, bucking up ferociously as his cock still drove into you.

“close. ‘m close.” he pants, groaning out as you watch him in awe when fastens his pace, slamming in hard as he cums inside you. you smiled, feeling the warmth shoot inside you as miguel panted and slumped down a bit in front of you with his one hand keeping him leverage from crushing you and ruining the desk with both of your weights. a moment of silence transpires as you caress the back of his neck, kissing him lightly of whatever skin you come in contact with as miguel panted next to your ear.

“that was not supposed to happen.” he says, a little stupefied as you chuckled, rolling your eyes as you cup his cheeks for him to look at you. seeing those red eyes dilate, practically teary and puppy eyed when you peck his lips. he pulls out slowly, you two hissing together at the loss of contact as the cool air of the lab regulated your sweaty bodies.

“maybe it did have to.” you only say, a much more deeper meaning behind it as miguel went quiet, the expression on his face clear as ever, he was thinking about it. you smiled, pulling him down for a kiss in which he happily obliges.

“mierda, woman. you still not tired?” he asks between kisses in which you giggled, shaking your head causing him to growl as you widened your eyes.

“let me rest first, o’hara!”

“you started it-“

“i did not!”

｡･:*˚:✧｡

EYY PART TWO FINISHED AND LEFT IT ON A HAPPY NOTE <3 MORE MIGUEL FICS TO COME GUYS IM NOT DONE 😈

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara smut #oscar isaac #across the spiderverse #across the spider verse spoilers #fnhrlcllnwrites

[norrisleclercf1]

Idea for your celebration! First off, congratulations my dude! that's insane! Second, the idea is mafia!Lando and Oscar where the reader is being stalked or something so the boys take it into their hands ;)

A/N: Mafia Oscar AND Lando damn ya'll feeding me

Warnings: Stalking, mention of torture, Lando is a little dark in this

You knew something was off. The way that the hair on the back of your neck was standing, it was clear something was very wrong. The bags in your hands, heading back to your little brownstone in the city. Lando and Oscar would be home, just a little more.

Casting a glance, you notice a man dressed in all black, head down following you. Fixing the bags in your hand you move through the crowd trying to lose the guy. It doesn't work as you turn looking in one of the shop windows and seeing him right behind you.

Without a second thought you drop all your bags leaving them as you make a break for the house. Your quick breaths and pounding feet as you hit your door. Turning you see the man rushing at you, screaming you throw the door open. Crashing into a body you slam the door and fall back.

Filled with panic and terror you shove the person away, unsure who it was. "Don't touch me!" You cry, curling into yourself as you shake. "Bubs? Hey, it's me." Hearing that voice you look up slowly, meeting those eyes. "Lando," You whisper flinging yourself into his arms.

He falls back, but keeps you close and rubs your back trying to comfort you. "What the hell?" Oscar storms in, wearing his suit most likely back from a meeting. "I don't know." Lando answers, pulling you closer.

It took them hours to calm you down, one of Lando's informants letting them know what had happened. "I'm going to find that fucker and rip him to shreds." Lando seethes, Oscar shushing him as you squirm in his arms, fast asleep.

"Breath Lando, I've got my people looking for the freak." Oscar reassures, watching his boyfriend pace back and forth. "I will not breath," Lando hisses stopping at the foot of the bed. "He chased her, he tried to hurt our fucking girl. I want him dead, I want it to be cruel and that he'll be begging for it." Lando bushes off the bed, as a soft knock hits the door.

"What?" Oscar replies, the door opening showing one of their ground people. "We've got him." Oscar and Lando lock eyes, a smirk playing at both their lips. The movement is what wakes you, clinging to Oscar who tries to slide out of bed.

"Don't leave me alone." You whimper, Oscar sighs sliding back into the bed. "Go, I'll stay." Lando nods heading down the multiple stairs and to the basement.

"LET ME GO!" The man screams thrashing in a chair, cuffed to it. "Making demands are we? Well, you'll be quiet enough." The man screams louder as Lando lights a small tool, flames pouring out of it. "Now, let's shut you up."

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fandom #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 scenario #f1 blurb #f1 oneshot #f1 one shot #f1!mafia #mafia!f1 #mafia!lando norris #mafia!oscar piastri #poly!f1 #f1!poly #lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris blurb #lando norris one shot #lando norris scenarios #lando norris angst #lando norris fluff #oscar piastri f1 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri one shot

[ghouljams]

Me with regular Konig: baby boy. Baby. Let me pay him on the head and call him a good boy.

Me with fae! Konig: nasty. Nasty horrid man. Mangy alley cat. He has fleas all over. Give him a bath.

Me with Regency! Konig: Whore.

It's funny to me that Konig in the fae AU - as the "ultimate predator" - would have no reason to growl.

In the animal kingdom, an animal that growls wants to scare you away. An animal that doesn't growl wants to kill you.

Why alert your prey of your attack? Animals only really growl to scare away another animal instead of fighting it so they can conserve energy: Snakes hiss and rattle so they don't have to use up all their venom and be left vulnerable for another attack while they use valuable energy to produce more. Animals growl to scare predators away if they think they can't win the fight or don't want to get seriously wounded in the fight.

Konig would have no reason to doubt his ability to win a fight. Konig would have no reason to worry about conserving energy, he can find food easily. Konig would have no reason to fear being wounded because who could touch him?

And it makes sense that Konig wouldn't want to scare away those he wants gone, it's more efficient, easier, and more logical to kill them, that way they can't come back.

You know why he would growl? To impress a mate.

I mean, if he can't kill someone (however temporarily he'll let them live) lest he risk being banned again he can still make a show of it. Mate doesn't let him show how strong he is through his normal methods? Look, even these magical beings are scared of a measly little growl.

He would enjoy showboating I think too. How deep and rumbling his growl can be. Using his vocalisations to express other feelings as well.

You've also mentioned him enjoying the hunt with Libeling and stalking her without much noise but letting her be aware of his presence so she can feel at ease and he gets the thrill of the hunt. Which would tie into how he wants to respect her and wants her to see him and appreciate his strengths but not necessarily fear him too much.

I think it would be cute that during their first couple meetings Konig growls and Liebling of course assumes it's him throwing his weight around or trying to scare her and is upset. Whereas poor Konig is shellshocked because he didn't even mean to growl it just happened. For the first time in... Ever? Maybe?

He growled because he knows Liebling wouldn't like how else he deals with problems - why is he changing his behaviour for a human? He growled because he wanted to impress her - when was the last time he ever had to try to impress? He growled because for the first time in aeons he wants to communicate with another being - he's so used to wanting to maim and kill and hunt that he mistook the intense feelings as the same instincts he always had but were they something more?

Liebling, angry: Did you just growl at me?!

Konig, dumbfounded: did I just growl at you?

Just, Liebling angry at Konig while Konig is having an existential crisis.

Regency König is a WHORE.

Fae!König absolutely has no reason to growl. He has no reason to do a lot of things that he does in the modern age, he only does them because it helps him blend in. König has extremely weak magic, the man can use it but he's not adept wit it, he only taps because it helps him look more fae. He didn't growl until he met Liebling, because she considers it more polite than just ripping people to shreds.

König's natural noise is something more akin to clicking. Sort of like the Predator, but I also think of it like mandible clicks, something reverberating and distinctly inhuman. He's based off of a mammalian predators, but I don't think he made normal mammal sounds for a LONG time. Speech is sort of new to him, same with disguising himself. This is why he tends to lose control of his form when he's not paying attention to it(thank God for Liebling being a monster fucker).

You're dead on the money that König respects Liebling and wants her to see his power without fearing him. He has a huge amount of respect for her, not only because she's the only person that stands up to him, but also because she's incredibly smart and self sufficient. König loves how much she doesn't need him or want him, she has no desire for his power and so he has no issue giving it to her.

I think he growls for Liebling because he truly sees her as his better, as the one person that can match truly him. There are a lot of firsts from König in his relationship with Liebling, and a lot of confusing feelings that he's never really had before. Lust, sure, but love? Nope.

"Did you growl at me?" You try to fix the disbelieving glare on your face, your cup of tea half raised. König stares at you like he doesn't believe it either.

"Did I?" He asks, as if that will get him out of this.

He didn't mean to growl at you. The rumble in his throat had just slipped out. Something deep and aggressive had taken hold of him, something warm in the pit of his stomach. You eye him suspiciously, glaring over the rim of your cup. König can't offer an explanation. He hasn't made that sound before. There's no reason to warn anyone of his teeth, if they can see them it's already too late. But you...

You glance at the people passing by, enjoying the sunshine, the weather nice enough to sit outside your favorite bakery after work. Your lashes dust against your cheeks when you blink, your skin looking warmer for all the sunshine. You're close enough to see his teeth and yet you're not running scared. You've seen them, and you still sit across from him, still turn your attention away from him, your bare neck on display with all the trust in the world. You're so lovely.

The sound bubbles again, a reverberating growl in his throat that pitches down, attempting to escape lower. You glare at him from the corner of your eye and turn to face him.

"What?" You question, spit it like a swear as you set your cup down. König blinks, sits back in his seat, straightens to sit taller. He doesn't know. He has no reason to warn you of anything, no plans on eating you. He doesn't even growl at the fae unlucky enough to get caught in his claws. What threat could you possibly pose to him that he needs to warn you away? What energy does he need to conserve? His teeth don't run out of bite, his claws still rip and tear, he is as much the monster he always has been, and you are still small and soft comparatively.

"Nothing," He tells you, because truly there is nothing. He doesn't know what there might be to make him do this. "You're beautiful," he offers instead. Compliments always make you look away from him, and this time is no different. You press your hand against your cheek, leaning against the edge of the table and turning away from him. He can almost hear the blood rushing to your cheeks, feel the pout of your lips against his hand.

The sound settles lower now, rumbling in his chest pleasantly with the contraction of his lungs. It thrums through his vocal cords, and against his tongue, as soft as the curl of your fingers. You don't look at him this time, seem to try and twist further out of his view. Something sparking like recognition in your eyes. König tips his head to study you, brows drawing together.

Is it concern that flutters in his stomach? Is it aggression that clenches hot in his chest? Does he growl at you because you're so much greater a threat than he is?

"You're purring," You mumble, voice muffled by your hand, "it's embarrassing."

You say that, but all your lovely spider-silk tethers glow a pleasant gold, and König's heart beats a little faster.

#cod x reader #x reader #x oc #cod x oc #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #konig cod #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #fae!König #1fae1 #long post #meta meta meta

[raythekiller]

hello! can i request Laughing Jack and Candy pop (if you write for him) nsfw headcannons with a female!reader? (separate or poly idm) hope you’re having a good day xx

🗒 ❛ NSFW Headcanons ༉‧₊˚✧

Featuring: Laughing Jack, Candy Pop

#Notes: clownfucker 🫵

pronouns used: none, but fem! reader

˗ˏˋ back to navigation ´ˎ˗

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Laughing Jack

Let me make one thing very clear: while he is going to naturally take the role of dominant, that doesn't mean he wouldn't absolutely fucking love it if you decided to just switch things around and dominate the shit out of him. I mean just really fuck him up, he likes it rough. Will gladly call you "Mommy", you don't even have to ask him to - he just fits the role of sub perfectly. Also, very obedient. I mentioned this before, but he loves being ordered around, so do with that information what you please. However, when he gets jealous (which happens very often)? He'll be pounding into you until your forget your name.

Super into giving oral. His tongue is incredibly long, reaching all those sweet spots deep inside of you. If you sit on his face he might just ask you to marry him right then and there. Also, his libido is through the roof - not normally, just when he has someone he's interested in, then he behaves like a bitch in heat. Good luck trying to keep up.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Candypop

Another major switch, though they are ridiculously bratty when they're subbing and a total masochist while domming. When you're on top, you'll have to fight for you life to get them to obey a single command, even worse when you try to punish them because they like it, so it's a genuine struggle. While they're on top, though? Good luck. Super into dacryphilia, just loves seeing you cry - for any reason, really. Pleasure, pain, overstimulation, edging, they don't care as long as there's tears running down your face.

Super into hair pulling as well, giving and receiving (mostly receiving). Out of all the creeps, they're the most likely to share you or fuck you in a semi-public area - definitely has a thing for exhibitionism. Not a shred of jealousy comes from this fucker. Also, voyeurism. Just loves seeing you pleasure yourself in front of them, watching your hands intently.

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta smut #laughing jack #laughing jack x reader #candypop #candypop x reader #candy pop #candy pop x reader #ray.writes

[cerastes]

I was wondering, are there any characters in Arknights that on the surface are jokesters, but anre actually immensely deep and powerful? I know about characters like Jaye and Nothing, but they aren’t particularly funny and casual. What I’m looking for is someone like Sans, basically.

"Nothing isn't particularly funny" oh we're just fundamentally different people then because I smile like a babe listening to jingling keys every time he's in the scene.

In the exact same regard as Sans, 1:1? Not really. Similar enough in some regards or in essence that they warrant mention? Yeah, I'd say so.

Aak is a good case, I'd say. Aak is a very casual guy, perhaps excessively so, referring to Doctor as "my dude" and in general having a very whimsical whistle to his steps, not to mention his seemingly jovial soul. Then you dig a bit deeper and you realize, well, despite the way he behaves, he takes what he does extremely seriously and is one of the most ruthless characters in the cast as a whole, in addition to being a medical sciences prodigy the likes of which Terra has seldom seen, and being infamous in the criminal underworld as a vigilante and executioner that has no qualms disposing of a mother fucker, if said fornicator of moms is a criminal and adversely affects others. See, the thing with Aak is that he, for the longest time, hated being so good at the medical sciences, because as he saw with his own twisted father, a brutal underworld doctor and criminal, curing illnesses doesn't begin to truly rid the common man of their suffering: There are always oppressors, abusers, those who selfishly make lives difficult for others for their own gain. Aak believes that to be a truly good "doctor", he needs to eliminate the root cause of the people's suffering: Criminals that will hurt them. Since his cooperation with Rhodes Island, his views have shifted a bit for the better (understanding people better, finding a good friend that shares his latent curiosity and love for the medical sciences and research in Warfarin), but it's still evident that Aak remains an unstable vat of fluoroantimonic acid waiting to bubble over, if the right trigger is present. He's not particularly powerful, with all his evaluations being "Normal" and "Standard", but his ruthlessness, his knowledge of the underworld, and his deep knowledge of medical sciences do make him quite dangerous despite "my dude"ing you.

Ceobe is the other one that comes to mind. Ceobe basically replicates the experience of having a big dumb loving dog, not just with Doctor, but with others as well, such as her canonical friends Vulcan and Sesa (Sesa being someone that also qualifies imo), and is in general a fun goober that livens up every scene she's in on virtue of, well, being a big dumb loving dog with all that entails: She WILL break into the kitchen even though she knows it's forbidden for her to do this, she WILL steal food, she WILL whimper and apologize, she WILL grow immensely defensive over her loved ones over things like "a loud vacuum cleaner" and WILL act over any perceived threat with maximum power; the entirety of Integrated Strategies 1, Ceobe's Fungimist, comes about because Ceobe gets high on hallucinogenic mushrooms she found in the jungle, and goes apeshit because she imagines this whole scenario where Villains have kidnapped Doctor and only she and whatever friends she can recruit on the way can save them, resulting in her beating the absolute shit out of numerous warrior tribes Dynasty Warriors style. Let's talk about that last part! She beat the absolute shit out of numerous warrior tribes Dynasty Warriors style while high as fuck on shrooms. She can do that! Because Ceobe is actually fucking shredded. Despite being a Funny Dog, Ceobe is a legitimately Arts genius, having no formal training and yet being able to use Arts with no problem, almost instinctively, as well as simply being able to harness pretty much any weapon she touches and empower them further with her Arts. Part of this is definitely because she's VERY Infected, but not even that explains just the sheer magnitude and expertise with which Ceobe seems to use her Arts. And speaking of? She dragged herself, across much of Terra, while incredibly Infected and with no care at all.

Ceobe, by all rights, should be dead. Not even the Medic Operator that wrote her medical file has a lot of faith, and her Oripathy is explicitly very grave and only getting worse. And even in this state, she dragged herself and the small arsenal strapped to her back across the world.

Her Physiological Endurance rank of Outstanding is no joke. Keep in mind, this is a rank equivalent to the toughest and most resilient characters we know of, such as Specter and Hoshiguma.

This is all stuff you'll only ever realize about Ceobe if you pay attention, because she's almost exclusively used for comedic relief, but the funny dog is actually a natural archmage and weaponmaster that just won't fucking die, if we were to use more fantasy adjacent terms for her.

There's more (like Sesa) but those two are the ones that jumped to mind.

#arknights #sanspapyrus683 #ceobe #aak

[bucketfullofstrawberries]

I Walk up to a tiny little podium in the middle of nowhere in particular

Taps the microphone

Ahem

Now introducing,

Welcome to the Paraverse

(A parody of Welcome To The Internet by Bo Burnham. Written by Me)

Welcome to the Paraverse! Have a look around~ Anything that brain of yours can think of can be found! We've got oodles of NEW content, Some better, some worse.. If none of it's of interest to you, you'd be the first! Welcome to the Paraverse! Come and take a seat, Would you like to see our theories or some senior citizens meet? There's no need to panic, This isn't a test, Haha! Just pick and choose your path and we'll do the rest. Welcome to the Paraverse What would you prefer? Would you like to make an eldritch god or see some chains occur? Go this way, Go that way, Don't move an inch! We got a million different ideas to pitch. Welcome to the Paraverse, Put your cares aside Here's some brand new art to steal, Here's the tenth time Stanley's died. We got animators, and artists, and fics of all kinds. And a bunch of colored digital drawings Of all the different characters in the game making out with each other, Welcome to the Paraverse,,, Hold on to your scarfs 'Cause Kevan just tweeted out about sawing little girls in half It's silly, it's stupid, He just tweeted more, Don't act surprised, these tweets are things that you' ve seen before! See the bucket shredded, Get offended, see a twink. Show us pictures of their children, Make them take the purple drink Start a rumor, buy a broom Or call out Thierry as a boomer Take your oc and then doom her Join a zoom or make weird humour Here's a brand new Narrator You should set that child aflame Here's why women never loved you Here's a guide to build your fame Which in-game character are you? Take this quirky quiz! Things made a bug that makes those gay fuckers kiss. Could I interest you in everything? All of the time? A little bit of everything All of the time Stairs are now a tragedy And time-skips are a crime Anything and everything All of the time Could I interest you in everything? All of the time? A little bit of everything All of the time Stairs are now a tragedy And time-skips are a crime Anything and everything All of the time You know, it wasn't always like this Not very long ago Just before it's prime, Right before the memory zone, the keeper of time This was button press Endless resets A sad death or two, We set our sights and spent our nights Waiting For you, you, insatiable you Mommy let you play indie games You were barely 4'2 And you went through all endings Which, to you, were brand new,, Now look at you, oh Look at you, you, you Unstoppable, watchable Your time is now Your inside's out Honey, how we knew And if we stick together Who knows what we'll do It was always the plan To put the decisions in your hands Hahaha,,HAHhahahHAHAH,,,HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Could I interest you in everything? All of the time A bit of everything All of the time Stairs are now a tragedy And time-skips are a crime Anything and everything All of the time Could I interest you in everything? All of the time A little bit of everything All of the time Stairs are now a tragedy And time-skips are a crime Anything and everything And everythings not ending And the ending's never ending And, All of the time~!

Thank you for your time <3

#tsp #tspud #the stanley parable #stanley parable #tsp shitpost #tsp paraverse #paraverse #the paraverse #naraverse #silly #welcome to the internet #welcome to the paraverse #ough i had fun with this

[inhuman-obey-me]

I really....really meant to do this way sooner, I’m so sorry, but I'm finally back with the next segment of characters!! Part 3 will come later, featuring the undateables, but for now, hope you enjoy this one!

Click here for Part 1 - Older Brothers

Part 2 - Younger Brothers

cw: mentions of past abuse + sexual assault, body horror, violence, torture, gore

Or, as these tags so accurately put it last time:

SATAN

When you tell Satan that you have something heavy to share, he is the perfect gentleman about it, making sure you feel safe and comforted and giving you space if/when you need it

He memorizes every word that falls from your lips, holding each one preciously in his mind as he holds you in his arms

His heart breaks as you describe what happened to you, and even though he always keeps his own wrath hidden away as much as he can, he thinks guiltily to the times where it has emerged around you

In that moment, he swears to himself he'll never allow it to happen again -- even if you know what he's like, even if you understand him and his rage, he could never forgive himself if he caused you the kind of pain you're describing now

For any anger you may have about it, however, you can express it as much as you want around him, with his own powers helping you let it out safely and absorbing some of it from you when it seems like it's too much for you

On intimacy, he's always been quite shy with you, but he takes care to be a bit more delicate now as well, a little less abrupt and a little bit more communicative about what he wants to do, stopping immediately to check in if you seem uncomfortable in any way

After a few days, though, the wrath in him is about ready to burst, and for all the rage he feels for what this disgusting human did to you...

No, no, he's not going to immediately tear the fucker to shreds, he can't let them die that quickly, no

No, this person is going to suffer for what they did to you

He starts with just a light curse, as a warmup -- invisible barriers just pop up in their path from time to time, causing them to randomly trip and fall whenever they're walking around

While casting the spell, however, he can't help but grow angrier and angrier thinking about what they did to you

He hits them with no less than twenty-two other curses before he collects himself enough to put the spellbook down, each of which would be fairly minor on their own, but which collectively add up to a very miserable existence of constant embarrassments, humiliations, frustrations, and injuries

When he looks in on the damage a week later, he's rather pleased to find them utterly broken down, covered head-to-toe in little bruises and cuts

He's far from done however, and in the dead of night, he whisks them away to an old, abandoned house said to be haunted by vengeful ghosts, much like the stories of the House of Lamentation

There, he immobilizes them with another curse and sets to work with a sharp-tipped pen, carving every last word of what you told him into your ex's flesh

His hand is steady as the pen slices into their body, but each time he reaches a part that especially infuriates him, he can't help but dig the pen a bit deeper in, taking vicious delight in the way their eyes water in those moments, and the wheeze of pain that emerges from their frozen lips

Once he's written out everything you told him across their body, he does what would be unthinkable to an actual book but what he finds perfectly fitting for this human stain upon the world, and sets up a pulley to gradually lower them into a firepit in the backyard

As they are slowly engulfed by the flames, he reads the whole tale upon their body out loud to them, making sure they hear every last word and know exactly what they did wrong before they finally perish

ASMODEUS

The Avatar of Lust, while he perfectly understands and embodies desire, is not forgiving of those who disregard consent

To him, so much of the fun comes from seeing that desire and pleasure emerge from his partner, so what the fuck is even the point if they don't want it?

But, as the beautiful and beloved Asmodeus, it's his job to keep everyone smiling and bright, and that's exactly what he's going to do for you

As you tell him about your past, he alternates between fussing over you to try to make you feel better, and quietly fuming over what your ex did

Over time, he helps you feel more in control of your own body again as well, empowering you to feel like it's really yours and yours alone, mixing fashion with feelings of safety and comfort, and always ready with the compliments to boost your self-esteem

Gradually, only if you want to, he'll help you get comfortable with intimacy again -- with his sensitivity to lust, he can always tell if something starts to feel wrong to you, and he'll stop immediately if that happens

Whether you want to take it slow, or try out some wild kink that might be therapeutic, or anything else, he's just excited for anything you want to do, and he'll make sure it's the best possible experience for you

As for your ex, he's sure they'll land themselves down in the Devildom eventually anyway, but if you want them taken care of sooner than that, he'll have a blast doing it -- it's been a while since he's had to a good chance to really use his scorpion venom!

And if not, hey, he'll have a chance to wreak his revenge when they eventually do arrive, in any case

He'll even invite you along too, if you'd like a turn at revenge by your own hands <3

Though his eyes can charm anyone, sometimes he finds it almost more fun to shrink them with magic and physically string them up like a puppet, and he's happy to hand you the reins if you want them

For his own fun, he manipulates the marionette strings to have your ex dance their way through any number of dangerous settings -- spikes, lava, fire, swamps, ghostly manors, you name it

He makes sure they hit every trap or flame on the way through, and malevolently flings them into those points in the most painful ways possible

With the strings, he also bends their body in impossibly painful ways, contorting them into bizarre and freakish poses and laughing over how ridiculous they look

If you want to participate, he teaches you how to move them around too

When you decide you've had enough, he drags the limp doll that your ex has become through coals and discards the charred remains into a lake of corrosive acid

There, your ex, still just barely conscious, feels their body slowly breaking down until they dissolve to nothing

BEELZEBUB

Beelzebub, in his ever-protective way, grows angry as you tell him about your abusive ex, but first and foremost his concern is making sure you're okay

He's quiet -- quieter than usual, even -- but fully present for you, reassuring you in the warm comfort of his large embrace

He holds you gently the whole time you're talking, and even for a while after, making sure you're feeling okay before he lets go

As thanks for being brave enough to talk about it, and for trusting him enough to tell him, he takes you out for anything at all that you'd like to eat, showering you with affection

He's perfectly happy to take it slow if/when you do eventually decide to ease into anything sexual, and he's so, so careful about his strength and size

His excellent sense of smell helps to guide him too, able to pick up the scents of happiness, desire, fear, lack thereof if you're dissociating, etc., and he adjusts himself accordingly to keep you feeling safe

And in general, though he may not have known you back then, he's filled with resolve to at least protect you from here on out

He won't fail to keep safe someone he cares about, not again -- and that means taking care of any lingering threats from your old life, too

It takes a bit of searching for Beelzebub to find your ex, but he goes up to the human realm and manages to seek them out soon enough because flies are good at seeking out rotting piles of trash

It takes a lot of restraint not to gobble them up on the spot and be done with it, but for how much they put you through, he thinks they deserve to suffer at least a bit

He snatches them away to a hidden alley behind a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant, long after they've closed for the night but with the fragrant scent of meaty burgers still lingering through the air

If the shot of venom didn't already leave their muscles feeling tender, the incessant hits of the brutal physical beating from Beel certainly does

No part of their body is spared from the onslaught of punches and kicks, as joints pop apart and bones start peeking out from flesh through the wounds

Thin, spear-like tubes emerge from Beelzebub's mouth, piercing various veins across their neck and arms so he can drink up all the blood from their veins before it spills out all over the alley floor -- it'd be a waste of a perfectly good drink, after all

Once they're fully drained, he cracks open their carcass, carving each bone loose with knife-like claws for him to crunch on

Then into the restaurant's industrial meat grinder goes the rest of their body

Beel feasts with a certain satisfaction that night upon piles and piles of cheese-world humanburgers human-world cheeseburgers

BELPHEGOR

As you tell Belphegor about your past and your history with your abusive ex, he gives you his full, undivided attention

His stomach drops, as his prior deception and manipulation of you comes into full focus in light of all you had already been through

Holding you close, he whispers words of comfort and strokes your head gently until you fall asleep for the night, holding his own rest at bay until he's sure you've drifted off first

As a quiet, unspoken apology, he places soft and peaceful dreams upon you that night, filling your dream world with all the things he knows you love

If you're open to it, he also later creates dreams for you where things happened differently, quick to pull you out if anything starts going wrong but letting you get a redo on those traumatic moments where you have more power or where you can watch a cartoonish anvil drop on your ex's head to stop them, whatever works really

Intimacy comes gradually, if/when you're ready, happy to follow or take the lead as you prefer, but communicative every step of the way so that you always feel safe

And as for your ex...

Belphegor already held the opinion for a long time that humans were shit -- but until this moment, he had dropped his desires to destroy them, after everything with Lilith had come to light

But you're still a human, after all, and he loves you, so he'll settle for taking care of just this particular shitstain of a human being

Needless to say, your ex never knows a peaceful night's sleep again

Each time they close their eyes to rest, devilish apparitions appear at the edges of their vision, and menacing claws and teeth rip at their ankles, chasing them across worlds

At times, when the teeth manage to catch them in their grasp, their dreams turn to endless loops of being chewed up and spit out over and over on end

The resulting constant exhaustion is a nightmare of its own, as they begin to fear falling asleep and desperately try to wake themselves any time they feel sleep coming on

However, in their waking hours, too, Belphie twists and warps shadows around them, until the lines between life and dreams blur together

They are practically sobbing for death by the time he comes for them personally, though he's not so merciful as to be quick about it even then

He chokes them to unconsciousness but lets go each time they fall unconscious, dragging the sharp prickly parts of his tail across their face to wake them back up before doing it over again

Once their face has been torn up beyond recognition by these repeated cycles, he finishes them off by trampling across their body in cow form and leaving them to suffocate slowly from their punctured lungs

#thank you for your patience!! #i guess it has been uh like 1.5 years since part 1...WHOOPS #please be mindful of the content warnings because this does get very violent! #obey me #obey me! #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me requests #obey me headcanons #obey me reactions #ask and ye shall be answered #mod chaos in the devildom #abuse cw

[matchadobo]

KIDD; the captain's madam

wc: 6857  summary: what might happen if commodore name and captain eustass kidd are forced to work together under a certain hapless situation while trying set aside their helpless diffferences and rancorous history? warnings: afab!reader, nsfw smut (cunnilingus, actual seggs, read at your own discretion 🔞), v1ol3nce?, steamin' sexual tension between reader and kidd, kidd being humbled is a treat

the vast skies mirrored the pelagic blues, a sight that never ceases to behold beauty within. the scorching sun, blinding and sizzling each span of land on the globe. on the stillness of the azure surface of the sea, what lies beneath are scores of sea kings that leaves no room for mercy but only wishes to satisfy their constant hunger. the same sea where victoria punk stood afloat, sailing through their next destination from the log. 

it was a simmering day under the sun, the crew had just about done everything to keep themselves under the shade and away from the heat; including the grumpy captain himself. he was clutching a cold, sweating bottle of rum, feet propped up by the table, and vest discarded somewhere he couldn’t care less where. 

“fuckin’ damn it, new world never has a good weather, does it?” kidd complained, fanning himself with a random newspaper he snatched from killer not too long ago. it took everything in him to ignore the fellow on the paper, a fellow he detest so much. 

“if you drank water rather than rum, maybe you’d be feeling less hot, kidd.” killer blatantly retorted, placing a tall glass of icy water by his desk. receiving a ‘shut up’ from kidd, he watched the redhead down the liquid like it was the only thing keeping him alive. “also, i’d like to get my newspaper back. it’s an item for reading, not fanning.” he sassed a little, snatching the batch of papers back from the disgruntled captain. 

“sure, i almost ripped it to shreds when i  saw the front page.” he stood up from his seat, stretching as he reached for the ceiling with a grunt. he grabbed his vest and made his way outside, looking a for other places to go where the sun doesn’t shine. he went towards his figure head, leaning by the railings as he embraced the welcoming breeze of the sea. as he hid from the sun, he heard a whizzing sound of something that came as quick as it went away from a distance; he knew that sound all too well, it was a cannon ball. 

he stood upright immediately, eyes skimming the horizon to look for where the sound came from. suddenly, a bullet grazed his skin; he fortunately dodged it just in a nick of time. he looked behind him and saw the all too familiar pink coated cartridge of ammo. he laughed to himself, gritting his teeth in anger and perhaps anticipation at your arrival. 

“buckle up, fuckers! the madam of the blues is here!” he stood his guard, raising his hand and amassing balls of metals above him as he discerned your ship from the distance. even from the wide stretch of sea, he could see you standing atop your siren figurehead, laughing your ass off at how you caught him off guard. his grin grew wider when he braced himself for momentum and threw heavy balls of metals and scraps towards your direction as your galleon got closer. your ship rocked side by side at the impact, immediately cursing him for his gesture.

the madam of the blues, an alias bestowed to you by the people that feared you and admired you. commanding the four seas, invincible across the calm belt; the only human who can rave the nest of sea kings and live to tell the tale. unscathed as you were in numerous battles, your body was adorned by the scars of yesterday; proudly retelling your barbaric nature across the blues. your eyes apprised the brewing fury of the eye of a storm, a warning for those who dare cross your way; disturbing the calm of the typhoon. yet here kidd was, fascinated by the cataclysm that is you.

the back and forth squabble continued until your ship and his were a meter away, bow to bow with each other. your raven galleon was comparably huge to any ship that passes your way, even exceptionally bigger than the victoria. you sauntered down the ship rails, heels clicking by the maple railings. your hand steady by the gun strap on your thigh, surveying before the stygian ship as a cruelly mocking grin tugged at your tinted lips. you met eyes with the red head, deigning a flourishing bow as you crossed a leg behind the other; a scornful curtsy for someone who did so much bad to you than good. “fancy seeing you pathetic lot here, what warranted a lovely visit from one of the worst generations?”

you relished at how his face contorted in umbrage, your grin stretched from ear to ear as your eyes mirrored intense contempt. that is until the pale bastard parted his lips, “there’s two of us.” 

“and i’m pertaining to the man in the mask,” you tilted your head in amusement, seeing him grit his teeth with a scowl in his eyes. “captain.” 

“wench.” 

in a second, the simultaneous clicks of guns rang beyond the blue skies and fear suddenly clouded the air around the lot of you. muzzles pointed at the kidd pirates as they unveiled their weapons too, eyes agitatedly scanning the guns around them with its safeties off. more ships, bigger than the galleons before them had their bloodlust directed at the pirates on victoria’s deck. completely surrounded, vulnerable, and unknowingly crossing the territory of the madam. 

“ah-ah, at ease girls.” you raised a hand as a warning, the immediate retreat of guns was almost chilling. “we’ll not waste bullets on these…bunch.” you looked down at kidd, the little pause bitterly rose the bile in his throat at how belittled he felt with your eyes. 

“so you still keep tabs on me,” you added, eyeing the newspaper killer was clutching. “missing me, captain?” you shifted your weight, turning to the fuming red head.

“you’re the one who made your way over here, commodore. how about you tell me?” he mustered a grin, crossing his arms, his snowy, sinewy arms full on display. it took everything in you to ignore it each time you cross paths and he flexes it. “even made an effort to park your ship here to see me, aye? ain’t that interesting, name?”

“using arrogance to cover up for your inferiority. so typical of you, eustass.” you scoffed, jumping off to your galleon’s deck. “i would’ve blown your ship to bits if i could.”

“really now? and you didn’t because?” he shifted his weight on his foot, not backing down despite being outnumbered. 

“there are civilians in my perimeter.” you firmly retorted. “and unlike you, i have a fucking heart.” you turned to walk away. “get the fuck off my territory before i sink your measly goddamn ship.” voice growing a notch deeper, your side eye gave an unknowing chill and suspense by the column of his spine before you vanish into your colossal galleon.

killer put a hand above kidd’s shoulder, a sign of telling him to stand down because you all know he stands no chance against a fucking commodore on her territory. kidd was beyond pissed about it. pissed about your authority and the power you hold within him. he knows you’re much stronger than him. he knows your influence across the blues, and he loathes your prestige. each mention of your name, each wanted poster with a monumental bounty each time he sees it, each shriek and praise by the civilians who fear and love you, each land you marked yours, and each gloat he sees in your eyes each time you two meet and you look down at him by your pedestal on your galleon. but most of all, he hated how much he thought about you. was it envy or longing? was it admiration or annoyance?

a few weeks have passed after the incident, more encounters and battles unfolded between the two of you and your crews. it all started and ended the same; one of you finds the other, say some insults here in there, and attacks until one of you becomes bloody or unconscious. it’s just an endless cycle of cat and mouse. 

that is until one rainy afternoon, a storm bubbled up by the heavens had ceased the duel unraveling between the two of you. and in a blink of an eye, your vision was clouded with black. the last thing you could see was your shipmates running to you and kidd standing from afar with an unreadable expression on his face. 

you then found yourself half-buried by the pearly, white sand with your damp clothes and frizzy hair. awoken by the smell of burning firewood, your eyes scanned the place. all you saw was that familiar back you used to look at and admire back then but you abhorred today. the environment seemed like a barren beach, no signs of people inhabiting it nor animals. you saw your galleon and his ship, lying wrecked by the sand; some of the parts dismantled and separated. you shot up with worry for your ship, instant panic as you tried looking for your crewmates. 

“lookie, princess is finally awake.” a gruff voice spoke beside you. your hand slid down to your thighs to grab your gun, yet there was a sword levitating and positioned on your neck. you could feel the cold metal hovering and precariously adjacent to the column of your neck, you gulped as you eyed the man before you.

“try anything, i fuckin’ dare you.” he ran his tongue across his lips, canines tugging at his lower lips as a grin made its way across his face to see how cornered you were. his steely, ochre eyes that glowed amidst the stygian shore were fixated on watching your every move. he was sat down at the log before you, his forearms pressed above his knees as he leaned forward to get closer to you. he had his finger effortlessly pointed at where your neck was, a trail of black lightning controlling the hovering weapon that almost scathed you to your imminent death. 

“threatening the madam of the blues, huh? do you plan on dying that early, eustass?” you raised a brow, unfazed at the weapon almost grazing your neck. you still slid your gun out of its casing and flicked the safety off, pointed undauntedly at the viciousness before you. your eyes matched how thirsty for a fight he was, the same throat-drying bloodlust clouded the air just like how your past clashes occurred. 

right this moment, there was a complete silence where you two had your weapons pointed at each other; one nudge and one of you could die immediately. “mind stopping this farce to tell me what the fuck is going on?” you broke the silence yet still keeping your guard.

“i’ll decide that when i get my fill.” he muttered under his breath. “i’d like to see you bleed first, madam.” there it is, that ferocious simper that never fails to quicken the pace of your heartbeat, raise bile up from your stomach to your throat, bubbles up something you refuse to acknowledge in your stomach, raise the hairs across the surface of your body, and leave your neck feeling hot. 

if it weren’t for your honed reflexes from years of piracy, you would’ve died from being perforated by two nodachis trajected from directions you couldn’t even see. from your lofty jump, you had a bird’s eye view of the wrecked seaside scattered with broken ship parts and garbage. you twisted your two guns by your index finger before firing it towards his direction, matching his speed as he tried outrunning your brisk bullets that pierced through obsidian walls.. 

from afar, he had already created a tornado with heaps of metal scraps he amassed while running from your poisonous bullets. you landed on the ground and the next thing you know, the projectile of his craft  was welcoming your arrival. but you weren’t a commodore for no reason, you were known as one of the strongest haki users from the new generation. using your conqueror’s haki, you stopped the trajectory of the metals and parried them to the skies; the heavens parted just like that one time when the two of the most legendary pirates fought back in the old generation. 

seeing kidd stunned, satisfied you to an amount where you wanted to maniacally laugh before his face. you raised your gun and fired a bullet straight through the side of his face, grazing the deepest scar on his body that starts from his forehead down to his chest. watching him  wince  in pain as the blood dripped from his head brought you nothing but ecstasy.

 “gotten rusty captain?” you strutted towards him, gun still pointed at him until it harshly met his cheek. “have you decided to stop being stupid?”

“you haven’t changed.” he mumbled lowly, tasting his own blood from the wound you induced. “you’re still the same crazy bitch who always goes too far, huh?” he painfully grinned, the blood reaching his teeth and staining it. 

“i didn’t ask for sentiments, i asked for an explanation.” before pressing on the wound once more with your muzzle, you spun the weapon by your fingers and discarded it by the casing on your thighs. 

he sighed in defeat before answering, looking towards the eerie forest that lies beyond the seaside you two are settled in. “it was blurry a few minutes before i woke up, but they got taken—my men and yours.”

“what? who took them?”

“the tribe inhabiting this land. we fuckin’ trespassed.” he retorted, putting his hands by his hips. trying to think of an alternative to take his crew back, clearly frustrated.

shit. this was inevitable. aside from your lopsided and wrecked ship, it’s already dire that your girls are missing. worry and desperation washed over you. what’s worse is you’re stuck with this barbaric moron who you swore to stay the hell away from. your relationship with him is like fire and ice, it’s a constant battle of which will break off first; and that sure as hell isn’t you. the most feasible option was to stick to this meathead to have more manpower to navigate through the foreign terrain where the tribespeople’s intent are unknown other than kidnapping and pillaging. 

besides, it was evident that you two needed each other. from how they successfully took your crewmates without the two of you, one of the strongest across the seas, waking up just showcases and gauges how strong they are. you are in their territory, they have the advantage. 

“i’m taking my men back.” he blurted out, heading straight to the forest. 

“and you’re still the same fucking idiot who always charges in before thinking, huh?” you called out, voice growing a notch higher. “if you want to get yourself killed and let your crew lose their captain, be my goddamn guest. that’s what you’re good at, isn’t it? not fucking thinking about the consequences.” you said with so much resentment he could feel his throat going dry as he stopped in his tracks.

“look, name.” he started, tone serious as he stretched his palm before you to get your attention. your name bitterly rolling out of his tongue. “if you think i’d just stand idly while knowing that my men are out there, without me, not knowing if they’re alive or not; then you’re sick to you fucking stomach.”

“you’re really a dumbass, aren’t you?!” you bit back, “you think i will either?!”

“the fuck are you saying then?!” his voice matched the same frustration yours echoed.

“that we, as much as we fucking despise each other, should find them together.” you said through gritted teeth, refusing to meet his eyes.

“you’re asking to team up?” he crossed his arms, smug coating his voice. “never thought the day would come, commodore.”

“make no mistake, this is not an alliance.” you retorted. “this is simply a truce, unless you’d rather see your crew die and have you follow the same fate.”

“tch, quit yappin’ then and get movin’.” he said before turning his back stomping away, you stood satisfied at how humbled he got. 

as the night deepened, so was your venture towards the dark forest. you were the one leading and kidd was following after you, keeping guard by the rear. it was a silent stroll across the forest, there were complaints here and there for kidd being too loud or you being too slow for the latter. there were times where you two bump into each other and it’ll spark a whole ass fight between the two of you. so much time had passed that you began seeing stars from drowsiness, it took you so long to find a decent trail to follow because kidd kept prancing about until the sun reached the middle of the skies. 

“can we, stop for a while…” you panted, grabbing a hold of the tree beside you. the everlasting exhaustion suddenly hit you matched with your empty stomach, your vision started hazing. “i feel fucking…fainti-” you passed out before you could finish your sentence. the last thing you saw was kidd muttering strings of curses as he rushed towards you. you didn’t care less how much you hate him right now, you needed someone to hold and lean onto. 

you found yourself sprawled on the sandy ground with kidd’s fur coat draped over you, your head placed delicately on his lap as he dozed off with a whole ass watermelon on his other hand. you shot up from your position immediately, realizing the situation you are in. muttering strings of curses to yourself, you felt your head spin and stomach growl at your sudden movement. 

you tried snatching the watermelon away from him, that is until his grip tightened. “that ain’t nice of you, name. tryna steal what isn’t yours.” he opened one eye, voice husky from sleep. 

“my name and nice in one sentence doesn’t work, fuckface.” you rolled your eyes, snatching the watermelon anyway.  

“you’re pretty active, ain’t ya? seems you got a good sleep, commodore.  my lap that comfortable, yeah?” he teased as a smirk tugged on his lips, pulling one of his knees in an upright position and placing his forearm on top of it. his yellow orbs never seem to lose that haughty glint each time he looks at you.  

you sighed in annoyance, cracking the watermelon open as you smack it with the side of your hand. yet a faint blush crept in your cheeks as you thought about his remark, you’ll be lying if you’d deny that you slept so well in his presence. you just stuffed your face with the fruit to hide your cheeks. “truly, i almost didn’t wake up because i didn’t wanna see your dunce face.” you retorted, smiling in aggravation. you tossed the other half of the fruit to him, to which he effortlessly caught. his brows furrowed once more with your reply, grumbling as a response as he gobbled up the watermelon. 

“just don’t fuckin’ faint out of the blue like that, thought you fuckin’ died or some shit.” he almost slurred his words from eating up the fruit. 

“aw, i didn’t expect concern from a brute like you.” you put a hand on your chest. “got scared?”

“shut the fuck up.” he dismissed, words filled with so much unsaid sentiments as he refused to meet your eyes.

once you two finished your meal, you both carried on in your pursuit for your mates. after a couple of hours of fighting back and forth on which direction to go, you lot have finally reached their camp. bamboo fences with pointy edges, well-guarded perimeters with guards armed with wooden spears, hammocks and nipa huts filled with inhabitants going about their days, a small barn of animals and crops adjacent to it, and there stood the leader who seemed to be busy attending to his subjects. 

“that those fuckers?” he muttered under his breath, almost a whisper. you two are hiding beneath bushes upon bushes, shoulders  pressed close together as you two hid to plan an attack.

you affirmed, “i can snipe five guards from here, the others are up to you.”

“let’s just fuckin’ charge in! what’s the point of doing it silently?!”

“you fucking idiot…!” you hit his head with your gun. “do you see metals on them?! your devil fruit won’t be useful in disarming them.”

“but it’d be more than enough to kill them, aye?!” he smiled ear to ear, bloodlust painted in his eyes.

“don’t you ever fucking think?!” you continuously hit him, receiving multiple whines from the redhead. “did it cross your pea-fucking-brain that they’d outnumber us…!” you berated him while still whispering.

“just watch and thank me later, commodore.”  he announced, he pressed his hand down the ground and you felt the surface  rumble beneath you. the soil beneath your feet and across from you crumbled, if it weren’t for him hooking his arm around your waist you would’ve fell to your death. and in a matter of seconds, eustass kidd created a fucking landslide. 

the pile of metals he magnetized from the ground was currently the platform you two are standing on. “see?” he gazed at you over his shoulder, rejoicing at your stunned expression as your jaw dropped with the immediate alter of the geologic landscape. what was once a flat surface of soil became a basin.

“h-how the fuck do you expect us to find them alive then?!” you complained, seeing the ground you stood on earlier reduced to powdery, heaps of soil. 

“i made a platform for them too of course, look around you shit. you think i’m that fuckin’ dumb?!” he retorted, pointing at where your and his crews reside.

a breath of relief escaped you when you saw your girls. “commodore, you teamed up with him?!”

“i had to get you all out of here. it wouldn’t be possible on my own.”

“eh? it also wouldn’t be possible that nothing happened but a temporary truce between you two?” one of them chirped, a malicious tone in her voice.  “a man and a woman alone in the woods–doesn’t that instigate somethin’?”

“i’ll have your head in a platter if you two don’t shut up.” 

there lied the tribespeople, buried in soil as one of them tried getting up. the lot of you were too busy reuniting to notice one of them pointing their blowgun at you. and in a moment faster than your bullets, a dart pierced at the side of your neck and you felt your limbs freeze as you lose all control to move. your right hand woman caught you as your crewmates repeatedly called out to you.

“fuck, they got name!” kidd reacted faster than your crewmates would, fury rushing through his veins as he controlled  a metal bar to pin the culprit on the ground by his neck. all he was seeing was red and all you could see was the faint, blurry sight of his figure brimming with lightning as he garnered yet another tornado from his power. the heaps of metal vibrating at his trigger as it flew across the woods towards an apex that is above him.

“i’ve had fuckin’ enough of this shit.” he growled, eyes radiating ire as the beast that craves nothing but inhuman slaughter took over and revealed itself from his demeanor.. “i draw the fuckin’ line here, you’ve hurt one of us and i’d kill to let you suffer tenfold of the goddamn consequences.”  you faintly heard the strings of curses he mumbled before a loud crash drifted you out of your consciousness. 

you had awoken and it's already dark, you found yourself lying down by an unfamiliar room. the walls were burgundy painted and you seem to have passed  out for  a long time. there were shelves upon shelves of trinkets of varied sizes and colors, which you know all too well where it came from and who made it. you were cocooned in a velvety, crimson blanket on  a king size bed with pillows of blacks and reds. you looked around and saw a mahogany bedside table with bottles of rum and used up lipsticks. you could smell that metallic cologne that you’ve once grown accustomed to back in the days but learned to resent nowadays. a familiar sight and feeling to you. 

you’re well aware of where you are–residing in the captain’s quarters of the victoria. in the same bed where he sleeps and his smell latched onto, the same room where everything between the two of you began and ended back then, the sleepless nights that you two spent rambling about the shitstorm that you call this world and your soaring dreams to be the greatest among all; always competing  and bring out the best in each other, and those little arguments that soon blew off into something unredeemable. ending everything you two had built.

your neck feels sore, you reached over to brush your fingers by it when you felt a bandage patched on at one place. yet you manage to pull yourself up as you tried and searched for any sort of warmth and life. soon enough, the door slammed open and revealed the last person you ever want to see. 

“k-kidd?” for the first time, his name didn’t hold any resent nor ill intent as it rolled out of your lips. if anything, he felt like salvation from the pain you were in. how ironic, he used to be the source of it.

your voice is hoarse and your lips are pale and dry. his golden eyes had a gentle glint to it you couldn’t quite make out. he entered the room like he wasn’t himself, from the bottle of rum on his hand and a pink tint on his face; it was evident that he had been drinking his ass off.

he made his way to the edge of the bed, his bed. “do you need anythin’?” his usually belligerent voice was now delicately soft by your ears. boy if you only knew, that he was restraining himself from embracing you right now. he reeks of alcohol but you don’t mind, you’re just glad you felt something warm right now.

“aside from revenge from the one who knocked me out, nothing else really.” you bitterly remarked, receiving a weak laugh from him. “you look like shit? you don’t have that spunk in you, eustass.”

“gave us a scare like that, tch.” he shook his head, leaning forward where his elbows were pressed on his knees. his brows furrowed and his teeth grinding against each other as a grumble left his throat after his sentence.

“you’re scared?” you asked, utterly confused.

“damn right i’m scared! you always make me fuckin’ scared! for a moment, i thought i lost you again.” he shook his head, fists balling up.

“again? you pushed me away the first time, didn’t you?” the offense and bitterness was evident in your voice as you crossed your arms.

“and that was fucking stupid, okay?! do i look like i enjoyed that decision, eh?!” he finally faced you, furiously waving his hands from his surge of emotions. you didn’t miss how glassy his eyes were, it shattered your heart to see him like that; it always did. but he looked away immediately and swallowed harshly. chugging at the bottle on his hand, as if drowning his tears away.“it’s lonely and every-fucking-day i look for you.”

“ain’t that what you want? no weaklings in the crew.” you scoffed, your resentment got the better of you and you almost regretted saying that. but it was the truth, he did push you away because you were weak. you never forgot how much those words stung and how it always echoed in your head each time you remember or see him. it broke you, it almost killed you. to realize that the man that almost completed you was the one who broke you apart bit by bit. it angered you to a point of no return, or at least you thought it did. you thought you’d never get even a foot close to him, much less be in the same room as him. and you never thought you’d feel your heart beat again for him at his next words.

he fell silent, fists balled up as he downed his rum again. “sorry.” he swallowed hard, tears finally falling, yet he refuses to look at you. “my stupid fuckin’ pride got in the way.” he sniffled, you could sense how much it took him to muster up those words. “wanted to keep you to myself, away from all the dangers of this piracy. yet here you are a goddamn commodore, i…i couldn’t even be more proud and couldn’t even be less alone.” he scoffed with disdain, wiping off his tears with the back of his palm. 

there was silence as you tried and register what he just said. “if only you were that emotionally aware back then, the seas wouldn’t need to suffer the setbacks of our stupidity.” you sighed, “give me that,” you snatched the rum out of his hand and chugged it all out, the bottle being empty of what it used to be filled with. 

“what…what the fuck’s your problem?” he looked at you like you grew another head.

“i wouldn’t have the balls to be fucking you sober, that’s for sure. c’mere.” you grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him close, stopping for a while when your lips were millimeters away from each other. the aroma of rum clouding both of your senses, “apologizing made you ten times hotter, eustass.” 

his hands then snake around your waist as your lips collided, evident hunger for each other didn’t stop the both of you from hurriedly discarding each other’s clothes off. his calloused palms ghosted across your arms, traversed the span of your back towards the junction of your shoulders and neck opposite to the wounded side as he placed a firm grip around it to press your head further to his—deepening the kiss.

you found yourself straddling his lap, arms wrapped around his neck as you both tried fighting for dominance between the kiss. you had your hand fixed at the back of his neck, tilting your head to bury your tongue deeper in his mouth; earning his grunts and hums from your actions. that is until he tugged your lower lip and finally caught you off guard. he smiled through the kiss and said, “nice try, love. but in the victoria, i take the lead.” he sucked in your lower lip, letting it go with a loud smack as he watched you shiver under his breath.

the kiss went on for a long time, both of your hands not leaving each other’s body as if you were both starved; realistically speaking,  you two were. his flesh hand was settled by the mounds of your rear while the metal one was fixed on your waist. kneading and smacking your mounds ever so often, eliciting whimpers and whines from you. squeezing the flesh of your lower body, he pressed your thighs tighter to his sides as his metal hands effortlessly unhook your bra in a matter of seconds. “eager?” you teased. 

“just fuckin’ look at you, who wouldn’t be?” he growled, lips trailing down to pepper your breasts with kisses and hickeys as he sucked on each one with delight. you pressed his head further to your chest whilst grinding your lower half onto his, feeling up his hardening member beneath his boxers. 

once he got his fill, he went back to kissing you again and again. he sucked on each of your lip with much fervor, playing with your tongue and drinking all your moans. he hugged your waist and pressed your torso against his, inhaling and taking in your scent, how you fit on his lap, how your lips taste and feel, and how you seem to can’t get enough of him just as much as he can’t of you. it was clear that he wanted to have you this close for a long, long time.

the alcohol finally hitting you, you grew a bit bolder and pressed him down to his chest where he lied on his back. you finally got a good look at him; a blushing mess with his lipstick smeared at the sides of his lips as he looked up at you with so much desire and neediness, his glassy eyes mirrored how drunk he was for you, how he wanted to reach over and have more of you. and that’s exactly what you’ll be doing for him right now.

“you know, if you apologized more. you’ll be receiving more than this as a reward.” you welcomed, crawling to his face and settling yourself down. he grumbled by your drenched core, the vibrations electrifying you from your bundle of nerves up to your hazy mind. he began to smother his face on it, your squelching juices combined with the bubbling pleasure on your stomach caused you to fervently grip the headboard and his hair for support. you pressed yourself further down as he had a firm grip on your thighs to keep you in place, too drunk in devouring you.

he licked long trails across your crevice, playing with your clit, and sucking on your folds until his face was damp on your juices. soundly ravaging your core as he reveled on how you pulled on his hair each time you moan his name, reverberating across his quarters and made his member twitch. 

once you reached your climax, he looked up at you and licked his lips. your sultry moans sounded like angels singing by his ears. “it’s even better than how i imagined you’d be.”

“oh? you’ve fantasized about me?” you raised a brow, playing along as you traced his scars. you leaned down and licked down to where the rough patch of skin resided. pleasured hums singing across your ears.

“oh, madam. you have no idea.” he maneuvered your body and you were now lying on your back. pure lust reflected his tone as he caged you in his sinewy arms, leaning down to get closer to your face. the combined scent of his cologne and rum intoxicated you to an extent where you couldn’t think of anything but letting him have his way with you. 

he started placing wet kisses on your cheek, low voice on your ears. “each night that this bed felt empty and cold,” down to the side of your neck where some of your scars start, “those times where we finish a long round of sparring across the seas.” down to your shoulders, “each day that goes by without any sign of you.” across your chest and mounds, “to the thought of having you finally in my arms,” down to your stomach and deep scars, “with each grin of victory and pleading eyes of defeat on our battles,”down to your core and across your hands and fingers, “and to finally have you like this, all ready and waiting for me.” he licked his lips, eyes filled with sex and longing. “i’ve fantasized about you at a number i can never count.”

he then finally positioned himself, teasing the head of his member by your wet folds; satisfied by the whine he elicited from you. you felt how thick he was as he braced you for what you are about to take. you hitched your breath as the first stretch was ecstatic and left you breathless. kidd hooked one of your legs by his shoulders while his knee pried the other open, simultaneously bucking his hips forward that took your breath away.

kidd has this tendency to bury himself deep immediately upon entering, until it reaches the tip of your cervix. you choked out a moan, fisting the sheets at his actions. of course the bastard fucking grinned when he saw how his dick drove you stupid. it motivated him to push himself further to see how your eyes roll at the back of your head. 

“commodore gone dumb over my cock, eh?”

“b-bastard!” you clawed at his broad, well-endowed chest down to his toned abdomen. you can hardly garner your words, too overwhelmed at the incessant pounding on your lower half.

“hm? what is it, madam?” he raised a brow, your title rolling out of his tongue as something that used to hold so much respect yet he made it sound so degrading with the greedy look in his eyes and demeaning tone. 

the way he looked down at you made you feel vulnerable yet it left a sweet feeling on your tongue. that you are completely under his grasp, how he looks at you like he craves for you just as much as you crave him; like an animal in heat. his eyes reflected pure, carnal desire to viciously take over you, to have you see hearts and stars, to have you melt under him and continually want him just as he badly wants you.  “wanna tell me somethin’?”

“f-feels so good~” you squealed, trying to get a hold of yourself.

all the pent up tension and desire were finally released with each thrust, each smack on your ass, each graze of your nails by his skin, each swear word that you both evoke from the amount of pleasure you two are in right now. “that’s right.” he replied, voice gruff as his moans followed after it. “you feel just fuckin’ right, name.” 

once he started picking up the pace, there was no mercy from here on. the headboard was slamming against the wall, pillows were being knocked over from the force, the bed creaking from the unyielding and rapid pace of his hips, and your and his’ moans were almost deafening particularly the curses you and him uttered with each surge of pleasure on your lower halves.. there was no denying the fact that the crew heard both of you very well, loud and clear. the victoria soon got emptied, all of them tried to get far away from that god-forbidden room.

you looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, fingers brushing by his veiny arms as you reached for his cheek. in that silent moment, no words were spoken but you two felt your hearts tight against your chests for each other. he buried his face in the space between the mattress and your neck as his hips moved in a sinfully fast pace that drained all of the sanity left in you. his breath was hot against your ear as he muttered, “i’m so close.” 

his hips started to stutter and your throbbing core clenching around him as you both later reached your climax. it took a while for him to pull out of you, the two of you furiously panting and chasing your high to calm down after. his breath against your neck raised goosebumps on your skin as your chest heaved, trying to recover from the numbness of your lower half because goodness was his girth phenomenal. and for some reason, you two broke out of laughter as he plopped himself beside you. 

“goddamn.” you both said in unison. 

you looked to your side, admiring the domestic look of him. you sat up despite your throbbing lower half and got on top of him. his hands fixed on your hips as he admired how your features glowed from the dim light on his desk. “so are we gonna come out and keep up the façade or you gonna start acting like a man?”

“you see,” he propped himself up with his mechanical arm while his good arm was roaming the span of your skin. palms wandering about your tummy, your mounds which he squeezed on each harshly, to your neck where his entire palm wrapped around, and to your face where his hand lingered as he got lost in your eyes. “i want to have my treasures all to myself, i want what’s mine to be only mine.” he licked his lips, savoring the bare sight of you on his lap. his grip tightened by your hips, “now that i’ve got my hands on you, i can’t let anyone else have you, madam. and i gotta let the world know that.”

“greedy.” you replied, “keeping me all to yourself, huh?”

“now that i’ve known what it feels like to lose you, you bet your sweet fuckin’ ass that i’m never gonna let you go.” he pulled you closer by the small of your back and connected your lips once more. pulling on your hair as he bit at your lower lip to pry your mouth open, not getting enough of you. until midnight up to dawn, you two had stayed in that room with no contact from the outside. memorizing the splendor each other’s moans, each scars that made one another even more beautiful, each curve of your bodies, each other’s warmth and scent, and how your eyes’ shine from the pleasure of each other. 

OMG DON'T CANCEL ME FOR THE TRIBESPEOPLE PART I HAD TO MAINTAIN THE PIRACY ESSENCE T^T anywho this was so fun to makeeee kidd being humbled was a nice trope HIHIHI

#one piece #eustass kidd #anime #cha writes #manga #one piece headcanons #one piece x reader #eustass kidd x reader #eustass captain kidd #eustass kid #eustass kid x reader #eustass kidd headcanons #eustass x reader #eustasscaptainkid #eustass kid headcanons #one piece kid #one piece x female reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece smut #eustass captain kid #one piece imagine #one piece scenarios #one piece self insert #one piece scenario #eustass kid x y/n #eustass kid x you #eustass kid smut #eustass kidd smut #eustass kidd imagines

[robthegoodfellow]

May I Find You One December RENAMED Here I Go Again

1: Don't Know Where I'm Going, Sure Know Where I've Been

for @fizzigigsimmer

(caligator, referenced past harringrove, age difference, referenced character death, references to neofascism/evangelicalism)

.

Billy’d been warned against stopping in Stark County, but when you had to go, you had to go—and anyway, he was running low on gas. And snacks. 

And, since he wasn’t a spring chicken anymore, it’d be wise to get out, work the rust from his joints a bit. 

Glancing around as he filled the tank, the town looked normal enough; your average main drag in Middle of Nowhere, North Dakota. Couple sleepy shops, general store, dinky diner—one of those blue lives matter flags hanging limp by the door, vivid polyester garish against all the beige. 

Basic shit. 

No obvious signs of a place under the iron thumb of a white nationalist evangelical militia, and he was just about to roll the dice on that diner, maybe snag a coffee and a slice of pie, when a police cruiser ambled into view, pulled into the fueling station opposite.

Just his fucking luck.

Billy studied the pump, face schooled a pleasant bland. Marveled at how, even after all these years, his days of tussling with fascist pigs long behind him, the same wolves were stirring in his head. One baring its teeth on a low growl, ready and willing to tear the fucker to shreds, the other poised, still as stone, itching to turn tail and run at the first sign of trouble.

At fifty years old—fifty plus, but who was counting—he preferred neither option. The meter clicked off, and he watched his hands replace the nozzle, screw on the gas cap.

Even his hands were fucking old. Thicker—blocky knuckles. Veins starting to bulge. Grandpa hands. 

Sense memory flashed, suppressed so quick and smooth it left barely a ripple. Wouldn’t do to indulge in fond longing for those gay glory days, for the hands he still missed like phantom limbs, some nights, this aching absence. Not within spitting distance of a patrol car. 

Because why test the thought police, right? He could reminisce on youthful love lost when he was back on the highway, heading west.

Good boy, he heard, like Billy had a tin can cupped to his ear, the string trailing off into the fog of time. 

So strange what stayed sharp, he mused, rounding the hood, gripping his keys. Behind him, the cruiser door swung open with a creak. Like—despite the photos, it was hard to really conjure the face, hold it steady in his mind. A face through a window in the rain, and more so as the years slid by. But that voice still whispered clear as day—sometimes a Jiminy Cricket, keeping Billy out of trouble, sometimes a little prankster demon, pure trickster. 

And the hands. The feel of those hands had never left him, touch embedded in the skin.

He sniffed, ducking his chin, scolding himself. So much for smothering his inner queer.

The door was open, sanctuary of the driver’s seat calling his name, when something drew his attention across the way—some movement, maybe, or shift in the air. Pulling his gaze, against his better judgment, to meet the bored stare of the emerging cop.

His chest—seized, breath caught in tight lungs by a tighter throat. Distantly wondered if this was what a heart attack felt like—crushed in a cold fist.

Because the eyes staring back at him were Steve’s. The furrowed brow above lips pinched in a frown. The lines of his jaw, his nose. Like the rain had stopped and he could see him clear through the pane. Then the lips twisted, a sudden sneer, straight out of senior year.

“Got a problem, pal?” 

Billy blinked rapid, took in the flak jacket and badge announcing him as the Sheriff’s stooge, the douchey camo hoodie layered underneath, dark hair slicked back, sides shaved like he’d stepped off the cover of Nazi Vogue.

What the fuck.

“Asked you a question, old man.”

Billy coughed, half a laugh, half choke, and shook his head. Same voice—his voice. Steve’s. Only the tone was all wrong—mean and self-important—more like… like Billy, once upon a time.

Like if his old bratty attitude and Steve’s voice had a baby. That’s what he was hearing right now. Like—

Wrenching his brain back on track, Billy rebooted. Cut him off before the brat could launch another volley.

“Sorry, officer,” he said, and couldn’t help it—the amusement thrumming beneath the words, or more accurately, the unhinged hysteria. “Must be going senile.”

The eyes narrowed—assuming that if he wasn’t in on the joke, he must be the butt of it.

“In fact,” Billy went on, blindly following some instinct, he knew not where. “Think I might be having some heart trouble.”

The cop did not spring to the aid of a needy citizen, but eyed him skeptically. “You smell burnt toast?”

“That’s for a stroke,” Billy corrected, and he’d gone and done it again—only this time a fondness threading the wry mockery. “Heart attack is pain in your arm and whatnot.”

The brat didn’t shoot him dead for perceived disrespect, which was something. Really he just seemed—confused. Baffled. And boy, Billy was right there with him.

This wasn’t Steve, he reminded himself. Wasn’t him. Just a random dead ringer in Middle of Nowhere, North Dakota, a likely foot soldier in the brutal local militia.

And Billy should just leave him to it, obviously. Because this wasn’t Steve.

So—bid the doppelganger adieu, get the hell out of dodge. Billy cleared his throat.

“Don’t suppose protect and serve extends to helping some geezer find a place to eat while he rests awhile?”

Now the perplexed indignation was out in force, head tilted so far to the side it was liable to roll off his neck.

Hand to God, Billy thought he’d kicked the death wish long ago—his Y2K resolution—and yet here he was. Still talking, coaxing the neofascist to come closer, chucking all caution to the wind for a pair of pretty, over-familiar eyes.

“C’mon,” he said, and made the smirk self-deprecating. “I make it across the street without keeling over, I’ll buy ya a coffee.”

The brat straightened, something like tolerant intrigue settled in the quirk of his brow. “All right, then, old timer.” As they stepped off the sidewalk: “Don’t expect me to hold your elbow or nothing.”

“Oh, nah,” Billy replied, waving him off. “Dignity won’t allow it.” And then—he winked. Winked at the boogaloo boy. He’d lost his mind. Farewell, sanity.  “Name’s Billy.”

No response from the boy in blue until they reached the diner steps. “I’m Gator,” he said, hauling the door open, gruffness at odds with the tinkling bell.

To his credit, Billy didn’t break down into gibbering laughter.

Gator. This asshat wearing Steve’s face, this Duck Dynasty heir apparent—was named Gator.

Way off in Indiana, Steve must’ve been rolling in his grave.

Next

#idk where this came from #idea swamped me in the car this morning #caligator #but also make it angsty harringrove #billy hargrove #gator tillman #more to come?? who knows

[malestransforming]

I saw your post. Can you change me? I want to be a beefcake... Please!!

I love beefcakes. The bigger the better!

And you asked so nicely... Sure, I will help you. Let's go all out on this one, shall we?

snap

Welcome to my Changing Room! Nice to have you here. Now let's take a look at you... Fuck man, you're tall. And slightly overweight. That's good though. We can work with this.

You know, there are a lot of different types of beefcakes — it isn't a one size fits all type of thing. I can tell you're eager man, you want to be fucking huge, and I'm gonna do that for you. Let's go.

Your pecs have to be massive. They're pushing out right now, just pure fucking muscle, flowing over your torso. They're heavy. You're going to be so fucking heavy. Your oblique and abdominal muscles are shredded. They're perfect and absolutely jacked. Go ahead and clench your abs, tight right?

I can see you're getting hard already. Don't touch your dick yet. I'm actually going to make it slightly smaller, not but much... it'll still push 7 inches when fully erect, but it's going to be MEATY bro. Look at how thick that fucking thing is. Okay, go ahead and touch it now. How does that feel?

Your ass has to be tight too. It has to match the size of your chest. You've got some massive padding down there.

Okay back up to the shoulders. This part will feel weird because I'm going to crack your shoulders apart and make them wider. Your arms are absolutely massive. Look at those veins man. Flex them! You're a beast. Your hands are meaty, calloused and gigantic.

Thighs! You have no thigh gap now. Those things are trunks. Take a look, see how they're expanding and pulsing. All that is pure muscle. Some fuckers skip leg day, but not you — you put in the work. Your calfs too are pristine and packed with muscle.

Let me go back to your shoulders. I really want to make those look good. Your legs are great, but you spend the most time working on your shoulders, pecs and deltoids. Feels weird, right? It's years of intense workouts happening all at once as I build muscle instantly.

Okay, last few changes. I think I you're gonna lose your hair, and it's not because I don't like you... It's because I have something special planned. So your head is hairless, but you have some great facial hair and an excellent moustache. Just want to widen your nose and make your lips slightly smaller... Perfect.

Okay, I'm gonna do the final changes now. That pressure on your head is just my thumb. I have to do the mental changes, because a guy who looks like you has to act different! First, you're younger, 25 years old. You basically live at the gym... Exercise is your job. You're bisexual and you're a fucking dumbass meathead. And now you're perfect.

Take a look at yourself buddy. Do a pose for me. Flex that chest! Okay, now stand and just look at me like you're the most badass person in the world — because you are!

#everything powers #male transformation #male tf #himbo tf #muscle transformation

[fieldofdaisiies]

Joel x Reader | By Your Side

type: angst warnings: blood, talk about death, curse words, word count: 2.1k words summary: first time writing for Joel, so please be kind; after your first kill of a man who was infected by the fungus Joel is there for you, helping you deal with it. 

–all rights reserved–

Air wheezes in and out of your lungs when you collapse against the brick wall behind you, slowly sliding down when your knees give in, having been wobbly all the way back. The blood rushing in your ears drowns out all the other noises, you cannot make out a single spoken word.

You try to steady your breathing by focusing on a point on the opposite wall. You shiver when your eyes narrow in on—god, have mercy— on the blood splotches on the wall opposite from you. You lower your gaze only to find your own in blood covered hands. Bile creeps up in your throat, the content of your stomach souring. You feel your heart rattle, beating unsteadily when cold sweat breaks out on the back of your neck.

“No, no, no.” 

Squeezing your eyes shut you try to shut down the memories that slowly creep into your brain, sinking their invisible claws into your mind like a hungry wolf, their fangs piercing through your heart, shredding it apart. 

You draw in a shaky breath, shaking your head, your heart rapidly beating against your rib cage. A breathy sob parts your lips and it is then that you feel warm, callused hands on your face, a presence appearing in your vision when you blink open your eyes. They burn, the fluorescent light to bright, the dust stinging in them.

“I…I—“ Your throat constricts, the words dying down. Through a blurry vision you meet Joel’s gaze, his expression soft, understanding, sympathetic, warmer than usual. He closes his eyes for a moment and leans closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. “I know,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath a soft caress on your skin. You allow yourself to revel in the feel of his hands on your face, the protection and safety they offer, trying to forget the memories for a moment. The moment does not last long.

“I killed someone.” “He was infected.” “I still killed someone. I took his life. He died right in front of—“ Your voice breaks before you can finish your sentence, the back of your mouth aches, your throat burning. Tears brim your eyes when you give your head a little shake and look past Joel. You can no longer stand the pity in his eyes. Or rather…you don’t want him to have to deal with you now. He has too many things on his mind already, too many things going on and now you were this crying, whimpering mess. 

“The first kill and all that follow are never easy. You think I am enjoying it?”

You bite down on the insides of your cheek when his thumb brushes under your chin, carefully tipping it up and lifting your gaze to his. “No, but it seems so easy for you,” you admit, a gloomy grimace spreading over your face.

“It destroys me every time,” Joel bites out. “Unless it is one of those fully developed fungus fuckers. Taking someone’s life is never easy. But what you did today was good, was necessary. You did everything right.”

“He probably had family,” you say through barely parted lips.

“Yes, and they have probably been already infected. There was no saving for him. He would have died either way, you protected him from something worse than death.”

Your eyes close gor a moment, you listen to the breath Joel takes before you part your lips and say, “There is something worse than death?” Your eyes clash with the soft brown of his the moment the words leave your mouth. 

“There is,” he says in a dry tone. Tormented by his own trauma, it is incredibly difficult for Joel to see you like that. You have been his partner for a while, aiding him and Ellie, but never having to kill on your own. Until that very day.

A crack appears in his heart when he watches your shivering figure, knowing he has to help you somehow. Has to ease the pain, the shock in any possible way. “Let’s get you cleaned up, huh?”

He regards you silently for a moment, scanning your body to see if you have any visible wounds or if it is just the blood of…the other one.

Raising your shoulders and letting them drop again, you purse your lips. “Will this haunt me forever?”

“Honest answer?”

“Always.” A tear slips out your of eye. 

Joel moves into a crouching position, one hand now braced on the wall beside your head, his other still on your face. “Yes, it will haunt you for a very long time. I wish I could take it away from you somehow, wish I could tell you something else, but I also don’t want to give you false hope.”

You nod your head in understanding, liking his honesty. If he had lied it might have calmed you for the moment, but on the long run it would not have helped. 

“So? You want me to help you get cleaned up?” There is some odd tension in the air when he says this. It is not like….it is weird between the two of you. There obviously is some attraction but for some reason neither of you can fully allow to give in to your feelings. Like something is holding you back.

You know your reason for it. The loss of your former husband is still poignant in your brain, having seen him getting infected by the fungal infection, having his life taking by no other than Joel. You have hated him so much for doing that. Now, five years later, you understand that there has been no other way. This what had to happen. But when you think about the life you have taking today you know that if this man had a wife, a child, parents, they all must feel the same way you did and this…this destroys you. 

You know his reason as well. He cannot allow himself to love again. Because with love comes hurt, comes pain, comes heart break. It is something he wants to avoid at any cost. And you understand that, understand that probably better than anyone else.

Pictures of your late husband’s dead body flash in front of your vision. His dead eyes, his—

“I am sorry,” you bring out and shove Joel out of the way before bending over and emptying your already half-empty stomach out. Right onto the floor next to the two of you. 

A large hand fists your hair, one hand soothingly brushing over your back when you spit out some saliva. “Don’t apologise,” Joel reassures, a sense of guilt heavy in the air. He partly feels guilty for your pain. He has taken your husband’s life back then, knowing this still haunts you. And now he has told you to take that man’s life while he shoved Ellie out of the way, keeping her safe. A tangy, bitter taste fills the back of his mouth — guilt, sorrow, regret. 

Moving into a kneeling position, you sit back on your heels and glance at the man next to you. “I am filthy, you don’t have to help me clean up, I can do this alone.” His answer comes almost immediate, his compassion warming your chest. “I don’t want you to be alone.”

You are not alone. Even though this does not erase the tormenting memories, it offers you sense of relief, of peace. You are not alone in this. You have someone. Someone to protect you. To keep you safe. Someone that is there for you.

Joel gets up first, tugging at your wrist and helping you stand. He lets one arm glide around you, his other sneaking under your knees so he can lift you up. “You are still in a state of shock. I don’t want you to faint,” he explains when he brings you to his chest, holding you so tightly like his life depended on it. You lean into his warm, solid chest, finding comfort in his scent, his presence. Slowly you dip your chin, single tears slipping through your closed lids. Thy roll down your cheek and taste salty in your mouth. Parting your lips, you draw in a shaky breath, pressing your head against his chest and letting him carry you over to the room that is supposed to serve as a bathroom. There is a broken shower, a sink that actually works and a toilet, that sometimes works. It is this toilet, the lid closed, where Joel sits you down. You lean back a little and open your eyes. 

A grimace spreads over Joel's face when he bends forward and leans further over you.

“Are you well?” you ask when you glimpse up at him. He steadies himself on the filthy sink next you and bows his head, the corner of his mouth lifting an inch. “The knee.”

You understand. He has had some issues with his knee lately. “Don't worry about it.” 

But you actually do. He shuts you up though, shaking his head, knowing you would have like to protest. “Let’s see. Did he hurt you somehow?”

“No.” Your answer is tight because you can’t allow to think about the fateful moment any longer. You know he has not hurt you dramatically so you won’t think about it any further.

Fishing out some old, and slightly dirty cloth, Joel turns on the croaky tap, the ceramic membrane of the sink already breaking and splintering on some edges.

He dips the cloth into the water and then softly wiping it over your face, brushing your hair out of your face with his other hand. His eyes follow the movement of the cloth, his mouth a tight line. 

“If I hurt you, you have to tell me.”

You nod and offer him a small, sad smile. “People who kill others on purpose, or for a living cannot own a heart,” you say into the silence of the room. 

“Hm,” Joel mumbles but offers no more of an answer. Done with your face, he lets the cloth glide down your neck, to your shoulder. “I am sorry you had to experience this today.”

“Don’t apologise. You all have to do this every day. It would have anyways happened someday.”

Contemplation and some emotion you cannot quite place appears on Joel’s face and he lets his hand drop for a moment. “It is just hard seeing you hurt,” he opens up, a beautiful, but sad smile on his face. “I don’t like this. And I don't like being the reason for you sadness.”

“You are not.”

“I am. I told you to kill him.” “You did what to have to do.” “For what price? That you are now haunted by this forever.”

You stand quickly, knees still wobbly so you tumble forward slightly. Breathing the same air, you are mere inches from Joel, coming eye to eye with him. “It is not your fault. I have spent so long blaming you for my late husband’s death which was wrong. Now don’t take this blame on you as well. I have nothing to blame you for. I killed the man, and as hard it is to accept, I did it and would have done it without you telling me to do so.” You move even closer to him, the cloth in Joel’s hand long forgotten. “Deep in the back of my mind I knew that it was the only option, the only thing that could be done. It had to be done.”

For a long moment Joel says nothing. His eyes close and he draws in a deep breath. When he opens his lids again, he regards you silently, his features softening, his eyes warmer. 

“So strong,” he says, his gaze trailing over your face, halting on your lips for a bare second before moving back to your eyes. “And brave. And—“ You are the one to close the distance between the two of you, pecking his lips softly. But he is the one to deepen the kiss, not letting you pull back when his hand moves to the back of your head keeping you in place. At first the kiss is careful, soft until it turns a little more passionate, exploring. His tongue eases your lips apart and you connect in a yearning, hungry kiss that has you both panting when you part. “I wasn’t done,” Joel whispers, his soft breath caressing your lips. “And kind. Smart. Brilliant. And with a heart of gold.” You allow yourself to smile, it does not fully reach your eyes, but it is a good start. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ all blame for me spending my Sunday afternoon writing this goes to @moonlightazriel @bubbles-for-all-of-us @brekkershadowsinger @swansworth because you got me obsessed with this man and this show just when I thought I would not enter another fandom also absolutely check out @bubbles-for-all-of-us story Butterfly about Joel!!💛

#joel miller #the last of us #joel #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller the last of us #the last of us imagine #the last of us x reader #pedro pascal x reader

[kissesforsatoru]

Hi question for manilla Mikey, hanma and bonten ran. What would you do of you saw your darling wearing clothing that cover up suddenly. Meaning you know they don't like these types of clothing and it is strange so you pull their sleeves up and see bruises and blue black marks covering them like they got physical abuse? Maybe from current relationship or parents or probably bullies.

Please and thank you

cw : abuse, death, torture, semi-graphic/graphic descriptions

mikey : i’ll rip that mother fucker to shreds for hurting my darling. no thoughts or remorse, scum that abuse people don’t deserve life, and least of all the pleasure of dying simply and peacefully. and when i’m done with them, i’m never letting my darling out of my sight ever again. i’ll be damned if i let them get hurt again when it could’ve been prevented.

ran : the second i see those fucking bruises, rindou and i are out the door to go find whoever it was that did this. i’ll break all of their flimsy fucking limbs and then leave them in a ditch to rot for all that i care. it’ll be more than satisfying to hear their pained screams as they pathetically beg for their fucking life. i wonder if my darling reacted similarly when they hit them? i’ll have to ask while i’m torturing them. the second i get bored, i’m killing them and getting back to my darling so i can comfort them and reassure them that nothing will ever harm them again.

hanma : i like to have fun and joke around, but if i see my darling is being hurt by someone i’m all serious immediately. like a fucking switch has been flipped. i’ll find out who’s doing it, for how long, and if they’ve done anything else to my darling, then i’m beating that bastard. the only reason that i won’t kill them is so i can have a bit of fun tormenting them. they did the same fuckin’ thing to my sweet darling, so it’s only fair they get the same treatment. you get what you give, they say.

have a question for your yandere lover? ask them! ⟶ masterlist

#𓏲˖. obsessive lovers interview 𓂃 ⊹ #yandere #yandere thoughts #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere tokyo revengers #yandere tokrev #yandere tokrev x reader #yandere tokyo revengers x reader #yandere tokyo rev #yandere tokyo rev x reader #yandere mikey x reader #yandere mikey #yandere manjiro sano x reader #yandere manjiro sano #yandere ran haitani x reader #yandere ran x reader #yandere ran haitani #yandere ran #yandere hanma #yandere hanma tokyo revengers #yandere hanma tokrev #yandere hanma x reader #yandere haitani

[altocat]

You guys discussing Project G and Genesis reminded me of when I started researching Genesis’ history with Deepground and the horror of Deepground itself….and fuck.

Shinra obviously arranged the whole place, but I am positive Hojo was the one running it, because you can see the signs of his type of influence everywhere and it’s utterly terrifying.

For instance, don’t look too deeply into literally everything about Weiss or you’ll start to see some extremely eerie parallels to Sephiroth, particularly insane Sephiroth. From his specific design and weaponry, to his hatred of humanity, to his violent relationship with authority, to Hojo specifically controlling him…and…well, he was the first and the best of all Deepground’s soldiers, wasn’t he.

I swear, Hojo has been trying to recreate and control Sephiroth for so long. Weiss had to have been another one of his brainchildren.

Hell, maybe Hojo tried to create a better Vincent with Nero too.

Then there are the Tsviets like Rosso and Shelke, who were so fucked up by the experimentation and brutal soldier training they went through that they either turned into sadists or were stunted in some way that specifically related to childhood. All of them have Hojo’s exact style of horror all over them when you really break them down and analyze their stories and personalities. You can just see his handiwork.

And when I put this together, I began to strongly suspect that this was all more evidence, all more implication of what happened with Sephiroth. He was the strongest soldier ever created. The strongest in humanity. Nothing could parallel him, and with his strength he survived everything that Hojo threw at him—the same type of brutality that broke the psyches of the Deepground soldiers.

Sephiroth was simply too powerful. Until Nibelheim and until he literally could not take it anymore. He has all of the key traits of the broken-minded Tsviets combined, and his post-insanity agenda went beyond any of theirs. He didn’t decide to hunt only certain humans like Weiss or just be a sadist killer like Rosso—he wanted to erase mankind from existence all together and hated them with every shred of his strength.

I am sure Deepground and all of those key plot-points in Dirge were unique, but also absolutely meant to explain the catastrophe we see at the beginning that is meteor and why the person that summoned it did what he did. Dirge does this a lot, also by having more backstory for Lucrecia and Vincent as well, also showing Hojo’s sadism at its worst…I think it’s why Hojo was the ultimate villain.

Dirge only vaguely addresses Sephiroth directly, but so much of its story revolves around him with this unspoken dread and tragedy.

The game asks you, “Ok, you beat Sephiroth…but was he ever the true villain behind everything? Or did it go deeper than that…”

That very question leads us straight to Hojo. No coincidence.

Hojo pretty much has his hand in everything. In every story except for Advent Children, he's pretty much the catalyst for so much trauma. I admire his commitment. The fucker.

But yeah, it wouldn't surprise me if all of Deepground and the Tsviets was Hojo's doing. It's totally his style.

#asks #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephcanons #dirge of cerberus #hojo #tsviets

[whumpcereal]

the kennel, part fifteen

part of the kennel (masterlist here). follows this piece directly. not copy edited quite as stringently as normal, but i really wanted to put it up before i went out.

content warnings for: aftermath of noncon, references to filmed whump, breeding, mouth whump, human trafficking, and murder, extreme pet whump, extreme dehumanization, forced nudity, brief suicidal ideation

part fifteen, something like relief

The others see when Doc carries the black-collared mutt out of the pole barn. 

Some watch through glassy eyes, and they don’t think anything of it, because months in Doc’s care have silenced their thoughts completely. They might have cared when they were people, but they aren’t people anymore.

Some see the smears of blood on the boy’s naked legs, and they look away, because they remember when it happened to them. They know he’ll get used to it in time. They did. 

Others notice the ways the boy has changed since Doc brought him here. The way his softness has started to give way to hard sinew and bone. The way he has started to disappear. They look down at bodies that used to feel human, and they turn away from the boy’s dangling limbs because it hurts too much to consider all the ways they’ve changed too. 

And then there are those that watch, unflinching. A big man whose teeth have been taken from him one by one, because, when Doc gets around to it, those teeth will be replaced with filed metal implants, so that the newly christened fighter will have an advantage in the ring. A woman in a pink collar with low-hanging dugs, who’s carrying her fifth pup. They were both black collars once too. Collateral who came with merchandise that Doc wanted more. 

A few months ago, the man’s lover was sold to a businessman in Oman; they will never see each other again. The man bit Doc’s leg after, tried to shred the fucker’s Achilles’ tendon; Doc only smiled and went for the pliers. Complimented the man on his fight. 

Years ago, Doc put the woman’s husband down for trying to protect her; he gave her daughter to a man in a blue and white pick-up truck, told the woman it was one of the highest prices he’d ever gotten, that maybe he knew what to do with her after all. She doesn’t look at the babies when she nurses. It doesn’t matter that they’re taken from her so soon; she knows she isn’t really their mother. 

These two watch the mutt with casual interest. Maybe the boy has just secured his place. Good for him. It is easier to accept what’s coming, when you know what it might be. 

No one thinks of the blonde-haired boy who came in with the mutt. It wasn’t hard to figure out what Doc was going to use that one for, and once they go in the pole barn, they don’t usually come out again. Or, when they do, it’s in an airmail crate.

The rescues watch, but they don’t; they remember, but they don’t; they care, but they don’t. They shiver in the cold and wait to be put back in the cages that they never could have anticipated would become theirs.

Annie watches too, from her place at the edge of the yard. Her chest feels tight when she sees the way Will’s head bobbles backward from the crook of her father’s arm. When she sees Doc stalk back to the pole barn a few minutes later, she decides: she will clear the yard, get everyone inside, make sure they’re fed and warm. And then, she will see about Will. She knows that her father will be busy for a while.

- - -

Will is half-conscious when Annie finds him. He’s been half-conscious for a while, actually, though he still isn’t sure exactly what happened. 

Well, that’s not really true. He knows what happened.

Will thinks of the grapefruit spoons that were in the silverware drawer when his mother still lived with them. The bowl of each spoon was lined with razor sharp teeth, so you could dig into the fruit and peel the bitter flesh from the rind. 

She took the spoons with her when she left. Because the fucking spoons were worth keeping. 

Will feels like his insides have been scraped with one of those grapefruit spoons. His flesh has been peeled from its rind and pulled out of him. His insides burn like citrus juice in a cut, sharp and stinging. And he aches. The most remote parts of him ache with a kind of raw pain he didn’t know a person could feel on the inside, at least not literally. A bruise on top of a bruise on top of a bruise. 

He’s never hurt this way before. And distantly, he knows it could be worse. Because he’s almost certain it was Tommy who—

It was Tommy. Will knows it was. He’s been half-conscious for a while, after all. 

Tommy tried to be gentle. Will knows it. It doesn’t make it better. Nothing will ever make it better. 

When Will hears the door, he opens his eyes. He expects to be spread on the floor of the glass box, Doc leering over him, and Tommy sobbing in the corner. But Will isn’t in the glass box at all. He’s on his back on the wax-papered exam table, and standing over him, a cloth and basin in her arms, is Annie. 

“Hi,” she whispers. He can tell by the look on her face that he is absolute fucking road kill. 

Oh, fucking hell. Will flushes with embarrassment. This is just what he fucking needs. His best friend’s cum on his face and stuck to his thighs, and a beautiful girl right next to him. Fanfuckingtastic. For just a second, he wonders what Jessie would say about him now, but he tries to push the thought away before it can take root. He’ll never see Jessie again. It doesn’t matter what she’d say. 

But Annie’s eyes are heavy on Will’s face, and he wishes they were not. He looks away, trying hard to hide the tears that have crept back into his eyes. It’s only then that he realizes the stupid gag is still in his mouth; a metal piece digs into his cheek when it hits the table. 

That hurts too. His mouth. His jaw. His throat, inside and out. He screamed himself raw, that’s for certain, but the collar–Jesus, he can smell the burnt skin. 

“Will?” Annie’s voice is timid. “I–I’m so sorry.” 

Will doesn’t even pretend he can answer her. He squeezes his eyes shut again, pressing tears out from under his eyelids. They streak down his filthy face. Just one more thing to wipe away. He’s assuming that’s what Annie’s here for. To clean him up and put him back in his cage.

God, Will wouldn’t care if he never leaves the cage again after this. Fucking throw away the key. So long as he never has to do that again. 

There are soft fingers at the clasp of the gag, and even though Will knows they belong to Annie, he jerks away from her touch. He doesn’t mean to–it just happens. He curls onto his side, cradling his mitts to his beating chest. He only just remembers to stifle his whine. He doesn’t want to know what it would feel like to shock the open wounds on his neck. 

Annie pulls away. “I’m sorry! I just–please? Please, let me help you.” 

Will stills, forcing his breath through his nose. He doesn’t move and, for a moment, neither does Annie. Then, she reaches for the buckle at the back of his head, and Will almost sobs when he feels the gag give way. The leather doesn’t fall away–it’s stuck to his skin with Tommy–and Annie gently pries it up. Will doesn’t want to think about what she’s touching, doesn’t want to be touched, but he’s relieved when the pressure on his jaw finally eases. His mouth hangs open, but he isn’t sure he knows how to close it; he’s almost afraid to try. 

“There you go,” Annie murmurs. Her fingertips lightly hover over the shell of Will’s ear, but they do not stay. “Doc’s with your friend. I thought–I thought I’d clean you up. That maybe you’d like it better if I did it than if he did.” 

Like. Will doesn’t like anything about this. And there is no better. There is only just as bad or worse. 

But he supposes she’s right. 

“He’s with your friend now,” Annie says, “so we have time.” 

There’s a stab of panic in Will’s gut. If Doc is with Tommy, then–

Well, they’re even then, aren’t they? 

It’s a horrible thought, because Will is a horrible person. No, not even a person. A mutt. A worthless mutt. If he were a good boy, like Tommy, he wouldn’t think shit like that. He’d know that Tommy didn’t want it to happen, and that Tommy doesn’t deserve to feel the way Will is feeling just now. Tommy is better than he is. Tommy deserves better. 

Will’s the one who’s got no pedigree. He never has. He won’t, now. 

But fuck if it doesn’t seem fair. 

There’s a gentle pitter of water in the basin as Annie wrings out her cloth. When she draws close again, she gasps. 

“Your throat,” she says, her voice trembling. Her touch ghosts just below the collar’s band, and Will hisses through his teeth; it stings like a bitch. “You must have–oh, no. Oh, God.” 

So, it’s not cute, he guesses. 

“We have to get this off.” 

For a second, Will wants to protest. If Annie takes Will’s collar off, Doc will be mad, and he sure as shit isn’t going to punish Annie for that. At least, Will hopes he wouldn’t. He’s not sure why he cares. This girl–she’s part of all of this, isn’t she? 

But she isn’t. Not really. She doesn’t have a choice. Will wouldn’t have chosen the father he got either. And his mother certainly didn’t choose him. Family isn’t a choice at all. 

Annie leaves him, and he stays curled up on the table, because where the fuck else is he going to go? He doesn’t know where she’s gone, but she’s gone for a little while. Will closes his eyes, but still, his eyelids crinkle against the bright overhead light. 

He used to sleep with the light on, after Mom left. Everything was scarier without her, because when she was there, Will wasn’t allowed to be scared. She’d yell at him, tell him he was being a baby, that he was a big boy and he should be braver. So he’d tried. For her. He’d tried to be brave. 

But Will wasn’t brave. He would lie awake in the dark, hot tears squeezing from his eyes as he listened to them fight. Dad would plead, and Mom would scream, and Will would cry, because he wasn’t brave at all. 

When she was gone, Dad never said anything about the light. Dad never said much about anything. 

For just a second, Will wonders what Dad would say about this. But he pushes the thought away just as quickly as it came; he’ll never see his father again, so there’s no point in wondering what he’d think. It’s probably easier if Dad never knows any of this. If he never knows what Will’s been made into. 

Will’s a disappointment, just like his mother.He was never going to be anything else. 

Annie’s steps are so soft when she comes back that Will doesn’t realize she’s there until he feels the cool metal of keys against the back of his neck.

The buckle of his collar opens, and Annie gently pulls the canvas away from Will’s weeping skin. Some of his skin sticks, tearing away with the collar, and out of habit, he grinds his teeth together to keep from crying out.

Well, that’s one way to figure out he can close his mouth.

Annie freezes. “I’m sorry!”

But it doesn’t help. She has to keep going, has to take the collar all the way off, even if his skin comes with it. Who the fuck cares anyway? Just now, Will would shed all his skin if he could. He would let Annie peel it away piece by soiled piece if he thought it would do any good.

But it’s inside him too. The hurt. Tommy. And that, no one can ever strip away. 

“You can cry,” Annie says, and she is crying too. 

But Will doesn’t cry. He forces his tears to stay put, and he doesn’t say a word, even as Annie lays the collar at the end of the table. He won’t give Doc another reason to hurt him. He has to be a good boy. He has to earn his place. 

He has to live, even if he doesn’t want to. He’s not foolish enough to think that Doc would let him die a minute before Doc’s decided he can. No one who traffics in this kind of human suffering is going to be merciful. 

“I didn’t think–” Annie whispers, and even through the blurry pall of his tears, Will can see her hands shaking, “--I didn’t think he would take you out there. The ones in the doghouse, he–well, they’re usually alone. He doesn’t–this isn’t–I don’t–I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” 

Will doesn’t answer. He wants to believe that she is sorry, but all the same, she knows. She knows what goes on out there, what’s been done to people like Tommy for God knows how long, even if she didn’t know it would happen to Will. She knows, and what’s she done about it? Fucking nothing. Nothing at all. 

But she’s here now, and she’s trying, whatever it’s worth. 

She’s trying for him. 

Will closes his eyes. It isn’t true. He’s just so fucking pathetic that even a girl who’s seen shit like this her whole life pities him. And he’s not stupid. He’s ruined. In the unlikely event he’s ever free again, he’ll never be free of what he is now. There won’t be love. Just fucking pity. 

And who cares if she’s trying? Who cares if anyone ever tries? He doesn’t think he’ll ever want to be touched again. 

But somehow, even that’s not true. He wants Annie to wrap him in her arms and hold him, even though he doesn’t. 

Christ on a bike. 

“I’m sorry,” she says again. “Will?” 

Will flinches at the sound of his name. He suddenly wishes Annie didn’t know it at all. He can feel her eyes moving over every inch of his marked-up, soiled, fucking wrecked body, and he doesn’t want her to look. He doesn’t want her to look, and at the same time, he’s glad someone knows. That someone cares. 

“I have to clean you up, okay?” Annie’s little fingers push Will’s sweaty hair away from his forehead. He winces, and Annie withdraws, just as quickly as if she’d been burned. “It might–it might hurt a little.” 

Will huffs out a bitter, noiseless laugh. What the fuck does he care if it hurts? Doesn’t everything? Won’t it always? He squeezes his eyes shut again, and his tears mingle with the sticky remnants of Tommy still pasted to his cheeks. 

“Okay,” Annie whispers. 

Will hears the slosh of the rag in the bucket, and then, Annie’s hand slips beneath his head, lifting it in a gentle cradle. 

The rag is warm against his cheek, and Annie’s touch is sure, even if her hands are shaking. She scrubs soft circles over his face, cleaning his cheeks, his lips, his chin. His skin doesn’t feel quite so tight or sticky, even if it doesn’t really feel clean; he’s not sure he’ll ever feel clean again. 

Annie lays his head back down and drops the rag back in the basin, and then her fingers are at the hinge of his aching jaw, circling, massaging, easing the tension left over from the gag. Will groans before he can stop himself, and he braces for the snap of electricity against his throat. It doesn’t come. 

Of course it doesn’t, because Annie took off the fucking collar. Fucking genius. 

“It’s okay,” she says. Her thumb moves gently over his jawbone. “Just–whatever you want to say–please, say it. You’re safe.” 

He isn’t safe. But he can pretend, just for a little while. Before it happens all over again. Because it will. He knows it will. 

“Th-thank you,” he whispers. He doesn’t know exactly what he’s thanking her for, and his voice sounds like his throat is made of fucking swiss cheese, but it’s there. He’s there. There are still small mercies to be grateful for.

Annie bends down and kisses his forehead, quick as a wink. Her cheeks are red when she snaps up again, and she turns back to the basin before Will can say anything else. “You’re welcome.” 

Even as the rag touches his raw throat, Will thinks it might not hurt so bad. Not just now. 

Or at least, he can pretend that it doesn’t. It’s something like relief. 

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#the kennel #will cartwright oc #annie barker oc #doc barker oc #tw noncon mention #whump #whump writing #heed all warnings