#like how fucking stupid and ignorant can you be

[teddybeartoji]

彡 THE WORST PARTNER IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD

☆. contains: satoru gojo x gn!reader; con-artists au, crack, satoru is a little shit what's new, he also calls you 'baby' how sweet of him, hm? wc: 1.2k

on the other side of the wall, music and laughter mix together almost perfectly. the people are having fun, they're drinking and chatting, joking about the latest super cars and 'boring' paintings. rich people.

a bead of sweat rolls from your temple.

the setting sun paints the room you're in a beautiful warm orange. the big windows invite the sunrays in with open arms; they hit the mahogany wood furniture and you're a bit jealous. a bit of dust falls from the ceiling and you have to focus on not sneezing.

"ugh, we make such a good team!"

...

satoru gojo.

"we– fuck, do not!" you grumble at him through gritted teeth. "you literally left me– to the cops last time, dipshit!"

"but you got away!" he chirps back rather gleefully and the desire to punch him is suffocating.

careful as to not raise your voice too much, you whisper-shout at him. "just barely!"

"well, don't sell yourself short, babe! you do know how to work a tight spot!"

...

it hurts. his stupidity hurts your brain. squeezing your eyes shut, you shake your head at his joke. "can you– be like a normal fucking person? never say that again."

your knees about to buckle from below you and you're also losing your balance alongside your patience. it's rather hard to hold a 6'3 man up on your shoulders.

who could've guessed?

more dust falls onto your nose as satoru works on unscrewing the vent in the ceiling. it's painted gold. because why wouldn't it be, right? rich people are insane.

"what do you mean?! you were in a 'tight spot' and you got out of it!" it's sickening how genuine he sounds. "get it? it's called a tight spo— "

"could you possibly– stop saying the word 'tight'?" you grip onto his polished shoe that's sitting on your right shoulder while the fingers of your other hand dig into his ankle. "and could you possibly do this any fucking faster?"

he has ruined your suit with his dirty shoes and he has ruined your mood with his stupid jokes. you hate him.

he simply laughs at your annoyed tone "almost there, baby, almost there."

you try to make him explode with your mind for calling you baby again, completely and blatantly ignoring the butterflies that now occupy your stomach. you're just a bit nervous about the job, that's all. they have nothing to do with him. nothing at all.

you hear him shuffling around, mumbling something to himself as he reaches over to the last one, but while he doing so – he ends up putting way too much pressure onto your right shoulder which in turn makes you take a wobbly step forward. satoru's hands grasp onto the wall beside him in an attempt to help you regain your balance.

"c'mon! steady now!"

"shut the– " with furrowed brows, you glance up at him. sensing your gaze, he looks down at you with the prettiest smile. no, wait. just a smile, just a smile. fuck, you really hate him. "fuck– up!"

he gives you a quick wink before continuing his work and you avert your gaze. you can already feel the bruises blooming under your suit and shirt, reminders of his touch for the continuing weeks.

"you're way heavier than you look, gojo."

the sound of his gasp, makes your eyes roll back into your head. "are you calling me fat?"'

"yes. are you done?"

he tsks at your sharp answer and pockets his mini screwdriver. "so rude. and yes, i'm ready." as he speaks he takes the cover from it's place and slides it inside the vent. "be strong now!"

refraining from barking back, you divert all of your focus onto your core muscles and thighs. satoru lodges his one leg onto one of the fancy tall cabinet and you the uneven weight almost ruins you both. holding onto the wall with your now free hand, you observe him climbing up into the vent. the leg on your shoulder shakes and wobbles, threatening to run off but satoru doesn't seem to mind. you're sure he's having fun. the shit.

he manages to get his hands inside the vent and he's now trying to jam his whole body through the hole. his foot finally rises from your shoulder and he almost hits you in the face with it as he swings it around, supposedly gaining momentum for a final push. you sigh and brush off the dirt and dust from your suit.

you look around the room as you wait for him to turn himself around in the small vent. the sun warms your skin and you take the moment to enjoy the band through the walls of the room. exquisite paintings hang all around you, hugged by dark wooden frames, they rest in the shadows. specks of dust land on your nose and you look up.

he's grinning.

oh no.

"satoru..."

your warning does nothing but excite him even further.

"oh? ...not gojo?" his smile stretches. "but you love tight spots! i'm sure you'll find another way in, babe."

you're going to kill him.

deeply breathing in through your nose, you give him the biggest and also the fakest smile in the word.

"satoru, baby..." you hate how smug he looks. you want to wipe that stupid fucking smile from his face.

"you know that i just love tight spots and that's exactly why... you should pull me the fuck up!" your whisper-shouting turns into a full bark and satoru giggles behind his hand "right. now! i don't wanna find another way when a way is literally in front of me!"

his eyes twinkle at you when he realizes you actually used his own joke against him. you're so fucking hot. and you're especially hot now that you're glaring at him with a puffed out chest. he's having the best time of his life.

"that was good. that was really good actually." he winks at you as he moves to grab the vent cover from behind him. he places it back over the hole with a painfully slow pace, surely just to make you suffer even some more. he's sick. he's still visible enough for you to see the infuriating smile on his lips as he plays with you. "you did take my keycard though."

right.

he's as bratty as they come, as pretty as they come. petty! petty...

and this is his little payback. you're going to burn his house down. preferably when he's still in it. he gets on your nerves like nothing else. his eyes fucking sparkle from between the metal bars of the vent cover and your fingers curl into tight fists on your sides.

"i hate you."

"you'll get over it, baby. i'll see you later, yeah?"

his pearly whites flash at you one last time and then he's already climbing over the cover, heading straight for the room where they keep the goodies. without you.

...

a dusty suit, sweat, aching shoulders and pure, unadulterated rage.

you need a new plan.

and a fucking drink.

#how he convinced u to do this i don't know #but then again he does have the best puppy-eyes known to mankind doesn't he... #anyway everybody say hello to con-artist!gojo #i have many ideas for him hehehehe #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo fluff #gojo drabble #gojo fanfic #gojo oneshot #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru drabble #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru oneshot #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo fluff #satoru gojo drabble #satoru gojo fanfiction #jjk gojo satoru #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #con-artist!gojo

[tigermark]

sunny days ˖ ࣪⊹

the chenle portion of my playlist series!!

pairing : chenle x gn!reader

synopsis : you and chenle have recently broken up, but all he does is long for you. one day, however, this longing takes over him...

genre : fluff, angst, second chance kinda??

tw : established relationship (ig???), mentions of break up, going back to exes (don't.), very dramatic story, chenle desperate asf lowk

a/n : first post of the playlist series!!! this was actually supposed to be a stand alone fic but then i realized how much a series like this would eat so here we are 😛

chenle couldn't stand it. he couldn't stand the empty feeling inside him. he couldn't stand the ache lingering in his heart; the same one that had been there for the past week.

he hadn't left the house much in the past week, other than to walk to the convenience store by his apartment like he was doing right now. that was something he wasn't quite used to given the fact that he'd always be out doing things with you.

you.

the light of his life. someone he thought he would spend the rest of his time on earth with. he wasn't entirely sure what the reason of you breaking up with him was. it could be any number of things; finding someone new, falling out of love, finally realizing the flaws he had... it could've been anything.

chenle wished he remembered your reasoning, but he pretty much stopped listening to you after you said you wanted to break up with him. it would've hurt too much to listen.

even if it's been well over a week, chenle still has you running through his mind. you're all he can think about, in fact.

however he tries his best to ignore it, especially right now since your house is on the way to the very convenience store he's at.

should he go? no, it'd be stupid and immature to, he tells himself. but you're so close to him...

chenle knows he shouldn't go, but he isn't very good at holding back from temptation. instead, he picks up your favorite snack and goes to pay, practically sprinting out of the store once he does.

before he knows it, he's standing right outside your apartment complex. what the fuck was he thinking?

the thing is he wasn't thinking. well he was, but not about the logistics of everything. at this point, he came this far so why not go all the way?

and with that chenle walks up the stairs of your apartment complex, stopping at your floor. he stands at the top of the stairs for a moment, running his hands through his hair to hopefully calm himself. he walks over to your door and knocks. the same pattern he always used.

of course you immediately know it's him. you've been dreading this ever since he walked out that day. you can't just leave him outside though, it's cold.

you open the door, greeted with exactly what you thought you'd be. except he looks... different. like he'd been crying maybe. you can tell he was messing with his hair given how wild it looks.

"um..." is all you're able to say to him.

"y/n i know, please just..." he just stops talking all together. his eyes threaten to water but he sniffles the feeling back. he fishes the snack he bought for you out of the bag and holds it out to you with shaky hands. "listen to what i have to say."

you know you should slam the door in his pathetic face but you just can't. instead, you take the snack from his hand and step back to open the door further so he can walk in.

chenle's eyes meet your hesitant ones for a moment, immediately looking away. once he's in your apartment, you close the door to see him already staring at you.

"i'll be quick," he tells you as you nod in response.

you grab his arm and drag him to the kitchen, forcing him to sit down at one of the chairs pushed under your dining table. he sits down but you stay standing in front of him.

neither of you say anything. instead, you just stare into each other's eyes. chenle starts to feel tears welling in his eyes; he missed this so much. he finally breaks the eye contact, eyes wandering down to the floor as a tear falls past his lashes.

he doesn't even know how he ended up in your arms, but suddenly he is. "chenle i'm so sorry," you whisper into his ear, voice wavering. chenle lets out a choked sob into your shoulder, arms snaking up to hug your waist.

"i think i was just..." your voice trails off as you pull away from the hug to look him in the eye. "i wasn't thinking about anyone but myself. even then, this past week made me realize i wanted you back."

chenle nods, wiping a stray tear from his cheek. "i know," he manages to mumble. "but please... can i have another chance? i'll be better this time i promise."

you let out a small giggle between the tears which also makes chenle laugh. "you were always so good to me lele." he hasn't heard that nickname from you in a while. it felt nice. "it'd be a blessing to have you back in my life."

#tigermark #the playlist series 🤍 #nct #nct dream #nct chenle #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #chenle fluff #nct angst #nct dream angst #chenle angst #kpop fluff #kpop angst #kpop fanfic

[last-starry-sky]

Simon constantly teases you about how short/small you are. It upsets you, makes you feel singled out, weak, incompetent. Turns out he’s just dying to know how well you can fit him, how big his cock would look next to your hands and feet. Won’t shut up about it during sex either. A dash of mean Simon + his untapped size kink

eeeeee im gonnafuckining explode OKAY FOR REAL I WAS DYING WHEN I SAW THIS. thank u, beautiful, patient anon, for blessing me with this prompt!! I hope I did it justice!

ghost x petite!f!military!reader

(MDNI - NSFW uhhhh grossly inaccurate military stuff, creeper, bully simon :), i’m using “petite” as in “shorter and smaller than the average woman” trying to keep everything as open and vague as possible, oral, deep throating, ghost has a raging size kink, unprotected piv, also this is LONG (5.6k) 💀 i'm sorry!!! skip to the end for smut if that's all you want!❤️) 

It’s been the same fucking comments from your lieutenant all week. Day in, day out and it’s starting to wear a sore spot into your hardened skin. 

“Muzzle up. Arms tired already? ‘s a big rifle for someone your size to carry.”

“Keep pace with the group. Your short legs aren’t their problem.”

“Shoulders back! Chest out! Some’ve y’ need all the height you can get!”

All you can do is grit out a “yes, sir” or “no, sir” and push yourself even harder to keep up with the taller and stronger men and women around you. The massive Brit in charge is running your training group. While you expected this to be hard (your CO hadn’t been mincing words when he pitched it as “advanced”) but you never expected this. 

First of all, from the very beginning, he seemed to have a problem with you. Only you. There were a handful of women in the group, but you were unfortunately the shortest and smallest. Not that it bothered you. You’d spent your whole life this size. You were used to it. It was everyone else, especially the wanna-be, alpha males that flocked to the military like flies, that gave you grief over it.

The second you all lined up off the transport, you could feel his eyes on you. You tried not to stare back while the other Brit, Captain Price, gave a short introductory talk. You hadn’t heard a word of it. He stood there, flanking the captain, in a black, skin tight t shirt, with his obscenely muscled arms crossed over his ridiculously broad chest. A buzzing filled your ears as his black eyes bored into you. His stare so hot and heavy it made you sweat. His eyes were all of his face that he left uncovered, the rest was hidden by a skull mask and balaclava. You tried to ignore him, but you swore you saw the ink on his arm flexing as the captain introduced him: Lt. Ghost.

From the first training exercise, a simple one on one spar, he pulled you of all people from the women’s group to demonstrate on. What could you do? Refuse? He had at least a foot and close to one hundred pounds of muscle on you. You tried not to shake as you squared up at the opposite end of the mat. 

He told you to rush him, to “show him what you got”. Well, you tried. Once he gave signal to start, all you could do was try to fake him out. You ran at him before quickly darting to the side, trying to get behind him using your short stature to your advantage. Unfortunately for you, he was crazy agile for a large guy. He pivoted on his foot, watching you as you tried to fade to his left. You steeled yourself when he caged you in his arms, sweeping your feet off the mat. Your world was a blur until he slammed you roughly down onto the mat. Your breath was knocked from you, your vision spinning. You heard the crowd around you let out a collective “OH”. It took you a moment to realize he had you pinned. Your legs and hands held painfully down with his own. 

“‘sat all y’ got? Givin’ up already?” he grunted out with a gravely laugh while he stared down at you. He leaned down until his chest was pressed to yours, that stupid mask just grazing your face. “Or y’ got some fight left in y’? 

Hell yeah you still had some fight in you. You managed to slip out one leg from under him, jamming your knee quickly into his side. A kidney hit was dirty, you knew that. You wouldn’t dream of doing it in a normal spar, against an evenly matched partner, but he deserved it for picking on you; for picking a woman when he could have easily dominated any of the men in the room. He reacted exactly as you expected: crumpling forward in pain. You didn’t waste a second pulling your hands and legs from his grip. Another cry rang out from the crowd when you rolled out from under him, ready to jump on his back and make the pin.

“Olright, olright,” he said rubbing at his side, sitting up with a grunt before you could pin him. “I yield, y’ cheatin’ lil’ git. Next up.” 

He pointed at one of the other soldiers to come forward and take your place. The man gave you a fist bump as you left the mat and you told him “good luck”. You knew he would need it. When you turned around you saw that Ghost’s gaze had never left you. 

-

You walked back to base on Friday with your blood boiling, failure weighing heavy on your psyche after a long, hot afternoon of sniper training. You had given all you could; had put up with extra hard, extra long training, with comment after comment about your size and strength. 

Shorty. Shrimp. Rifle looks like it weights more than you. Gonna manage that?

Up early, in late everyday, almost too tired to eat and shower by the end. You had a mind to march right into Price’s office and tell him you were leaving that night. You’d made it a week, that was good enough for you. You would rather face hell from your CO back home than endure another hour of this. The second you sat down on your bunk, however, you passed out.

The exhaustion must have snapped something in your brain. You woke up a few hours later groggy and sweaty, your bunk mate snoring away. You were half on your bed with your feet still in your boots. You rolled onto your back with a groan, wiping the dried tears and dust from your cheeks. 

You let your weak arms fall over your face. You felt pathetic. You honestly wanted to just lay on your thin mattress and cry in the dark until the day started. Another day of enduring that British cunt with a superiority complex calling you short and weak, of singling you out in front of your peers, of making you question your career up to this point. He was eroding the very core of your person at this point, and you didn’t know how much long you could take it. 

You let out a sigh and, with more than a little effort, pull your sore, battered body out of bed. What you really needed was to shower, to think this out, and then find Captain Price to talk. No good would come from rushing into a decision in this state. 

You enjoyed your shower. It was nice to have all of the hot water and the whole communal space to yourself. You took your time getting dressed back into your rumbled clothes in the empty locker room. Nothing but the sound of dripping water echoing off the tile around you. 

Leaving the showers, you looked up and down the bare corridors, only enough of the overhead fluorescents left on to avoid a safety hazard. Your hair dripped onto your shoulders while you stood in the center of the hall. Price’s office had to be somewhere around here.

You wandered out of the barracks, down hall after hall of the same, painted block walls and plain tile floors, until you started seeing name plates posted haphazardly on the wooden doors. Your eyes wandered from door to door until you found what you were looking for: a sheet of 8.5x11 paper taped crookedly outside an office with Cpt. Price scrawled across the middle.

You let out a sigh of relief as you brought up your hand to knock on the door. It was almost over. The captain seemed like a reasonable man. He would surely be willing to listen to you, maybe give you some sound advice on whether you were actually cut out for this level of training. Before your hand could land on the door, a gloved hand came out from the shadows of the hall in front of you to rest above yours.

“What’re you doin’ here?” he whispered harshly.

You didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. You closed your eyes in annoyance, balling your hands at your sides. Of fucking course he was here. Right at the last hurdle. Right before you could seek relief from a superior, his superior too. You let out a long breath through your nose before you opened your eyes to face him.

“I came to talk to Captain-” you started speaking with a wavering voice before he cut you off.

“Not in. Not yet, at least. Had a long night.” 

He leaned against the door, starting down at you again. God, he fucking annoyed you. You’d never had a CO that frayed at your nerves like he did. How dare he come off so cool, gripping his oversized biceps with his stupid skeleton gloves. 

You stepped back from the door. “I’ll come back when he’s in then. Sorry-”

“Can help you if you need somethin’” he interrupted you again, casually canting his hips forward, moving his hand to the door handle. 

You shook you head. While you really wanted to give him a piece of your mind, you would prefer not ending this with a disciplinary, so you bit your tongue. 

“I don’t need anything from you,” you answered with just a bit of venom.

He heard it, you were sure of it. He clicked the door open, letting it fall open to reveal the dark room inside. 

“No. I think you do, small-stuff.” When you didn’t make a move, just let another angry breath out your nose and furrow your brow deeper, he shifted to the side and pointed inside the room. “In. Now. That’s an order.”

You clenched your teeth and did as you were told. Not that you had an option now. 

-

You walked up to the desk at the back of the room. Price sure did keep his office in a state. Papers and folders were piled across his desk. A landline phone and old desktop computer were shoved to either corner of the desk. More folders and binders piled over the keyboard and hid the keypad of the phone. You heard Ghost’s boots squeak lightly on the tile behind you, then the door shut with a click. Another, soft click followed. He flipped the light switch, illuminating the spot right above you with hazy, yellow light. 

You turned to face the man who’d gone out of his way to made himself your nemesis for the past week. He silently sauntered up to you, stopping behind one of the chairs in front of the desk. You crossed your arms defensively over your chest and tried to make your face placid while he pulled the chair out. He took a seat, well, he tried too. He could barely fit his massive fame in the little chair. It groaned underneath him as he mirrored your pose, arms crossed and legs spread. 

You sat silently staring at each other before he asked, “Well?” with a roll of his shoulders. 

You picked over your words, trying to detangle everything you had thought up in the shower. Ghost bouncing his knee pulled you back to reality. It was like the threatening hiss of a rattlesnake's tail. Better to just get it out than keep him waiting.

“Do you have a problem with me?” you squeaked out, eyes on you boots. The direct route it was, then. 

“What?” he asked, confused.

You looked up at him, exhausted, eyes pleading. “Look, I know I’m short and not as strong as the other guys . . . especially the guys, but the way you talk to me-”

“Don’t have a problem with y’,” he said throwing his arm across the back of the chair, readjusting while he raked his eyes up and down your frumpy form. Probably looking for something to complain about. “If’m bein’ honest-” he started before cutting himself off and turning his head. 

You uncrossed your arms, letting them fall to your sides. “What . . .” you questioned, gesturing with your hands in front of you. “Then why do you-”

He jiggled his knee a few more times before turning back to face you. “Little thing like you,” he said darkly, so deep and low you almost didn’t hear it. He clenched his fingers on his pants as he cleared his throat. “You keep up with the rest’ve ‘em well enough. Ain’t got a problem.”

“Little thing,” you whispered, repeating him sarcastically. 

Ghost groaned at that. Honest to god groaned in front of you, sending a shiver up your spine. You froze as his heavy eyes found their way back to you. 

“Yeah. You sure are,” he said scraping his fingers down his pants. “Spunky, too. Used t’ fightin’ for your place. Like that. Makes me wonder-” he trailed off as his large eyes wandered down from your face to your chest. 

You were shocked. No way. You had to be misinterpreting this. Maybe you were still sunstroked from yesterday, because there was no way you were reading him correctly. 

“Wonder what?” you piped, blush pinching at your cheeks.

“Wonder . . .” he said rocking his head back and forth, trying to tie a sentence together. “Wonder if y’ can be sweet, too.” He let you stew in wide-eyed disbelief for a moment as he gestured at you. “Wonder what you look like underneath all that.” Your stomach clenched as he tilted his hips forward, spreading his legs wider, to palm is cock through his pants. “Wonder if it matches what I’ve imagined.”

You would be lying if it was just your stomach clenching after that shameless display.

It was crazy how it all made sense now. The constant attention. The names. You thought he was being overly hard on you, picking at you, trying to get you to drop out. You rubbed a hand over your heated face. He was a grown man (a large one, too) that was acting like a little boy with a worm on a stick, chasing the girl he liked around the playground. You thought he hated you and all this time he was actually getting off to you. You felt like an absolute moron. 

“Doesn’t have t’ leave this room. If you’re interested,” he said in that deep gravel, still trying to keep himself together. 

You let him sit in silence for a long, tortuous, moment. 

“And if I’m not?” you finally asked. 

He nodded to the door behind him with his head. “Then leave. Talk t’ Price in the morning. No harm.”

“No foul,” you finished his phrase, running your fingers over your bottom lip. 

Silence hung between you for a hot moment in the cold, stale air of the office. You had a hard time believing he would just let you go at this point. Not that you planned to, the danger intrigued you too much to walk away. This line of work had made you a wholly different animal, it’s why you were here. You ran into war zones, battlefields, hostage negotiations, the places others couldn’t run out of fast enough. You’d been dealing with the people that most couldn’t stomach, the ones that couldn’t function in civilian society, for so long that they had worn a place under your skin. This lieutenant, Ghost, he had been in this just as long, if not longer, than you. He had to feel the same. Fuck, he had be worse.     

“What . . . what do you want?” you finally managed to ramble out. 

He let out a rough hum of satisfaction. You hated how you responded to it. You rolled your thighs together and, fuck, you were wet. You let out a small, shuddering breath. You’d gone a week with no praise, no kindness, and now here he was, the big, bully Brit who’d made your life hell practically purring over you. 

He trained his hungry eyes on you and motioned up with a flick of his fingers. “Wanna see ‘em. Don’t even have’t take your shirt off.”

A part of you wondered if this was all a trick as you slowly rucked your t shirt up to expose your stomach. That would track with how your week had gone so far. He was so blatant and open though, gripping the chair beneath him like he was about to launch out of it at a moment’s notice. He groaned as you pulled your shirt up to reveal your plain black sports bra. It was nothing special, standard issue, but it kept you strapped down. Not that you really had all that much to contain. 

He ran his hand over (what you assumed) was his mouth under the balaclava. He waited a moment for you to continue before urging you forward. 

“Come on, love. Don’t get shy. Wanna see ‘em.”

You slipped your fingers underneath the wide band at the bottom, hesitating only a moment before you pulled everything, shirt included, up over your head. You stared down at your chest while you balled your clothes in your hands.

“Not much to see,” you whispered, watching your nipples perk and skin pucker under the AC.

“Fuckin’ hell” was all he said. You dared to look up. “Fuck,” he continued, “Fuckin’ . . . get over’ere. Just fuckin’ dyin’ t’ get my hands on you.”

You dropped your clothes on the floor, closing the few steps between you quickly before falling forward into his grasp. You weren’t sure if you were ready for what this desperate, mountain of a man was about to unleash on you, but fuck did it excite you. Once he had you between his legs, gloved hands scraping up your back and around your waist, testing his fingers as he held you, but he didn’t do anything but look. He stared at you like you were made of glass. 

You stared at him, too. You hadn’t been this close since he’d pinned you on the first day, and you were pretty sure you’d been half-concussed then. You could see where he had eye black painted carefully around his eyes to fill the holes in his mask. You could see his long eyelashes, clumped together with that same oily black paint. It made the whites of his eyes stand out vibrantly. His large dark irises darted back and forth over your chest. You wondered what he was planning, what he was thinking. 

He didn’t leave you wondering for long. He pressed you forward, mouthing at your nipple through the mask. You let out a short whine, pussy clenching as his large hands kneaded at your waist. The feeling was like nothing you’d felt before. The fabric between you muted the translation between his actions and your pleasure. You could feel how eagerly he bit and sucked at you, but you were denied half of it. It made you dig your fingers into his shoulders in frustration.

“Want more?” he said haggardly, pulling off of you. He tugged at your belt, not waiting for an answer. “Then get these off.”

You did your best to undo your belt and pants despite your shaking and moaning while he dove back in, working harder at your other nipple. Once you’d dropped your pants down to your ankles he pulled you forward to step out of them, wedging you into the spread of his legs. You toed out of your shoes and then he kicked everything behind you, your boots banging loudly against the steel desk. You heard papers shift and fall, but couldn’t find a reason to care. He held you, running his gloved hands over your exposed skin while you shivered in font of him in nothing but your panties. 

He palmed his cock again before fumbling around to find his belt. You heard him click it open, the metal jangling as it went slack. 

“On your knees,” he ordered breathlessly. “Wan’ see what that little mouth can do with this.” 

You complied immediately, viciously curious as to what he was packing. If the tent in his pants was any indication, you had your work cut out for you. He popped open the button of his fly and then slowly unzipped. You couldn’t see anymore through his briefs than you had in his pants, but still, you leaned forward. You curled your hands on your knees, biting your lip, willing him to give you permission. 

“Go ahead,” he said giving himself one lazy, squeezing pump.

You put your hands on his inner thighs, right above his knees, testing the waters. When he didn’t say anything, you slid your hands up his legs, a soft, swishing sound following. You stopped at his crotch, pulling yourself forward before tentatively, gently, smoothing up his clothed cock. 

He groaned, covering your hand with his, forcing you to grip his girth. Your thumb just barely met your ring finger. 

“Fuckin’-” was all he could get out before pulling your hand off. 

He used his other hand to pull his dick out before pressing your hand to his hard, burning length. You gave him another pump, feeling how the skin stretched beneath your hand, then squeezing to feel how goddamn rigid he was. The tip of his cock made your mouth water. 

It was crazy. On you knees in front of him like this, you weren’t a competent soldier, a woman who held herself with poise and respect in front of her colleagues. He wasn’t an expertly trained, battle-hardened, special operative of the British Army. You were both human. Both hungry. 

You tipped his cock toward you to lap at the underside of the head. You met his eyes just as you closed your mouth around him, sucking the salt from his slit. He shut his eyes with a groan, letting his head fall back for a moment as he reached his hand up to grip at your skull. He opened his eyes to watch as he slowly bobbed your head down his cock. 

He gripped himself at the base, forcing your mouth to take him until you met his fingers. You did. Just barely, gagging as his head slid against the roof of your mouth to the soft palate at the back of your throat. He didn’t let you pull back. Instead, he traced the inside of your lips with his thumb, drool coating his black gloves.

“Lookit’ that,” he groaned as your throat pulsed and burned around him. “Little thing takes it all s’fuckin’ well.”

He let go of your head, letting you pull off of his cock. You stared at it with heavy eyes as your head spun from lack of oxygen, it glistened with your spit in the harsh light. He gave himself another languid stroke, watching you force air into your lungs while you sat practically naked on the floor between his knees. 

“Think you can take it in that little cunt a’yours like that?” he asked, stopping his stroke at the head.

You bit your bottom lip as you looked up at him. You gave him a slow nod. Any fear or paranoia you had before was long evaporated. You were wet, horny, needy. You needed him to give you something, and if he was going to give you a choice, you could do worse than getting railed until you couldn’t remember your name. You clenched, hands clawing at your thighs, as you watched him pump another stroke up that monster cock of his in front of your face before grunting out his order.

“Get up then. Against the desk.”

You scrambled up to your feet. He followed you, rising quickly from his chair to tower over you, pressing you backwards into the steel desk. Your hands reached out for purchase as he roughly gripped your thighs, throwing you on top of Price’s paper-laden desk. Folders and binders clattered to the floor, papers swirling across the tile as he shoved you down, ass right on the edge. 

He stood between your legs, hips flush to yours, his cock laying across your standard issue panties like a weapon. He pressed the weight of it against your skin with a groan, head spreading precum into your stomach. Quicker than you realized, he reached behind his back, coming back with a knife. It was almost invisible palmed in his large hand, only the tip of the blade winked from the tip of his thumb. With two quick flicks, he cut up the side of your underwear. He slid the knife back to wherever he had taken it from, like it was the most normal thing in the world, before pulling the now useless scrap of fabric from between the press of your bodies. 

He held the scrap of fabric in his hand for a minute, investigating it under the light before tossing it to the floor.

“Really are beggin’ for it, eh?” He said sliding his cock up the seam of your pussy. His easy, fluid movements as he rocked against you answered for you. “Fuckin’ wet just from that?”

You nodded, lacing your legs around his hips, trying to pull him closer. He pressed his hand into your stomach in response, squishing you against the desk hard enough to make you squirm. He pulled away enough to notch the head of his cock at your entrance.

“Needy little fuckin’ thing,” he said with a punch of his hips, nails biting into the soft skin of your stomach as his tip danced perilously on the edge of holding inside you. “Want it so fuckin’ bad? Want this inside y’?” 

He took himself in hand and watched as he pushed inside. You both groaned. You let your head fall against the desk with a dull thunk, eyes shut and legs shaking as he pushed deeper and deeper inside your slick hole. 

“Fuck.” He was breathless for the first time since you had met him. “Fuck are y’ tight. So fuckin’ small. Even gonna fit it all?” He rambled to himself as he took hold of your hips and watched himself fuck slowly in and out of you; hypnotized by the clutch of your greedy pussy pulling him in, resisting as he pulled out. 

You let out a small cry of frustration, tears pricking around your eyes. He was big, but that wasn’t the problem. You had taken your share of dick, you could take him. It was killing you how slow he was. He was lost in his own world, watching his cock slid in and out of you as you lay there silently begging for him to just fuck you already. 

“Quiet,” he whispered with a half-hearted harshness, hand trailing down to your pussy. 

You almost jumped as he began to rub a wide circle around your clit. Your slick barely dulled the rough texture of his glove. You shuddered, clenching around him, whining as he found a rhythm with his thumb and cock. Your clench punched the breath out of him. He fell over you, bracing himself with his arm. You could hear the hollow sound of his breaths behind his mask as he gave up trying to pump into your vice of a pussy. 

He nuzzled the cold plastic of his mask against your ear. “Not gonna’ last long doin’ shit like that,” he grumbled. He held himself up, pulling your face to look at him with a hand under your jaw. “Wha’d’y want?” 

You stared back at him with confusion. 

“Where d’y want it?” he clarified.

If you had a brain cell still functioning, you would have told him to pull out. It was the safer of the options he was giving you. 

But you didn’t. You moaned out, “Fuck. Inside me. Please,” like the absolute whore you had become once he’d whipped his cock out. 

Not one to question, apparently, Ghost was back in position the moment he heard you. He pulled your hips back to meet his, cock punching all the way in until you winced as the head hit your cervix. He took hold of one of your legs, hand running up the length of it, positioning it until it lay unfolded up his chest. He gripped his fingers around your ankle, starting at it as his other hand squeezed your waist.

“Lookit, fuck. Lookit that,” he said as he pistoned into you. You cut off the loud moan that he punched out of you. The change in angle was . . god it was like nothing you’d had before.  

“Like that?” he said, letting your foot dangle on his shoulder while he held your waist with both hands, driving into you mercilessly. 

If you could have answered, you would have spoke truthfully. You were sure. You would have moaned about how good it was, how he was so big and filled you so well. As it was, his powerful thrusts jarred you against the cool metal of the desk too much to do anything more than moan and hold on as more papers flooded the floor. 

“Got y’self off at all this week?” he asked, panting breathlessly.

You shook your head, a small whine of anticipation falling form your lips at the thought.

“Gonna nut just thinkin’ about you cummin’ on my cock,” he mumbled, trailing his hand back to your clit.

You let out a sad whine, bucking into his thrust as he touched you. You were close. So fucking close.

He began to circle your clit like before, finding that delicious rhythm with the pound of his hips that pulled you higher and higher, tighter and tighter, until dazzling sparks lit up your core. You reeled back with a cry, clenching his cock, arching as he worked you through your peak. 

His hand ripped away from you sooner than you’d like. He fell over you, both hands biting into the skin of your hips as he pounded into you as your pussy pulsed, any semblance of cadence or love-making gone as he chased his own high. You dug your fingers into his t shirt. The sweat drenched fabric was almost too slippery to hold on to. 

“Fuck! Too fuckin’ hot ‘n, fuck, tight. Fuck, ‘m gonna-” His weak series of sighs and groans, followed by the distinct feeling of his cock flaring inside you told you what he couldn’t.

He lay over you for a moment, panting as you both caught your breaths. You wondered if he was also stewing in the monumental realization of what the fuck you had both just done. You’d just broken so many rules. So much was at stake. He’d just cum inside a subordinate on his bosses desk, and you didn’t work for the same country. This was going to be a mess. You were sure of it. 

He pulled away from you, pulling himself out with a smothered whine. You crossed your hands over your middle as you watch him zip back up and adjust his mask. It was wild how he was back to normal within seconds. You half expected him to walk out the door and just leave you here like this. At least all of your clothes were here, save your sliced up panties. 

But he didn’t leave. He held out a hand to you, only letting you stare at it dumbly for a minute before he flicked his fingers toward himself, urging you to act. You took his hand and he pulled you up easily. He even let you slump against him after you sat up. You’d forgotten how tired a good lay made you.

Again, you expected him to leave you now that you were conscious and able to dress yourself, maybe leave you with a heavy warning (read: threat) to not talk about this. As you tried to shuffle to the side to try and get off the desk, he stopped you. His hands gripped both of your shoulders suddenly.

“The fuck y’ doin’?” he said, forcing you back in front of him.  

“Getting . . . dressed?” you answered with unease. 

“Funny,” he said with a single, dry, laugh. “You’re a funny lil’ thing, too.”

His hands skimmed down your sides before quickly seizing you by the hips, throwing you over his shoulder like a backpack. You gasped as your stomach landed on his solid shoulder, punching the air from your lungs.

“Think we’re done already?” he said, turning around. 

You watched as the desk, and the messy you had made on and around it, including your scattered clothing, circled back into view, then slipped away. He palmed a whole cheek of your ass in one hand, spreading you open enough for cold air to chill your leaking core, as he stalked toward the door. He probed a finger into your pussy, swirling the cum you felt leaking out across your folds. 

“Got a whole day off, y’know,” he said matter-of-factly as he opened the door. Completely ignoring that he had a naked woman slung over his shoulder like a caveman. “Think we should go back to mine. Relax. See what else that little cunt’ve yours can take.”

#mw2 #ghost/reader #ghost x reader #call of duty #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #starry writes #asks #anon #now to move on to ch 4 of the graves thing woooo

[utilitycaster]

Ok I'm probably going to regret reinventing 17th century European religious philosophy here but:

Ludinus's issue with the gods as stated to Imogen and Fearne (and I will state right now that we know he was lying or deliberately misleading at points in that conversation so I don't exactly take him at his word, but let's assume he does mean this) is that they did not prevent the Calamity. I have the following questions.

Does he have any loyalty/feelings about the Titans given that they would have killed all the people in the era of the Schism, ie, the gods averted that Calamity? My guess is no, which means that whole avenue of discussing the Titans was something of a dead end.

How should Calamity have been averted? The Prime Deities during the Age of Arcanum largely let people do what they wanted, which is what led to one of those mortals releasing the Betrayer Gods. Should the gods have struck down Vespin Chloras before he actually did anything, Minority Report style? Can the gods even predict based on the actions of a single individual or small group, because my guess is they can't, particularly since within the current stream of gameplay they absolutely cannot [ie, the reason the Changebringer can't tell FCG to stay or run is because Matt Mercer is the Changebringer and he doesn't know how people will roll; you do need to consider the medium here]. But if they could: so you think they should strike down mortals on the basis of thoughtcrimes? Or control them? In that case, why is Aeor a problem? There's a lot you can argue is justified once you permit the gods to override free will and kill people over mere potential for catastrophe.

On that note, Laerryn both was an unwitting architect of the Calamity (shorted on energy and then killed the Tree of Names, which served as a core planar defense system) but also averted the worst of it. Did the lives she saved by preventing the rise of Rau'shan and Ka'Mort outweigh the lives she took by destroying the Tree of Names? How should the gods have reacted?

Should, perhaps, the gods have all sealed themselves away earlier - perhaps post-Schism? If so, then the issue isn't the Divine Gate, now is it? Should the gods intervene or not intervene? Should they remove themselves or no? It feels like the issue isn't that they distanced themselves so that they can do less in the world, particularly if you wish to kill them, but that you really want to fucking kill them and they made that somewhat more difficult.

How do we know the gods (for example) didn't save Laudna? She was hanged and she's still alive; Morri would probably count this as saving her and I don't see the same desire to wipe out all Archfey. [real talk I find most discussion of Laudna specifically to be...incomprehensibly ignorant in its refusal to acknowledge that everything about it is player agency related, whether it's the story that the cast played out for Vox Machina or the decisions Marisha specifically made in creating the character, ie, do you think Matt should have said "well you can't play a Hollow One because that would mean the gods didn't save you" not to mention the fact that again, we are playing this within a game system where the existence Deus Ex Machina would in fact fucking suck ass; but even setting aside those reasons why this argument is stupid, it's still stupid. It's like a layer cake of stupid.] Again: do you want more intervention or less? Killing them guarantees less.

I'm assuming the problem with the Calamity is the vast loss of life, in which case, what's the math on how many people have been killed by the Vanguard or Imperium in the pursuit of unleashing Predathos? How many more will die?

If the release of Predathos doesn't result in the immediate demise of all the gods, and the Divine Gate is down, why isn't this a recipe for Calamity 2? What was the motivation for killing the gods again?

Should we kill mortal diviners who do not do all within their power to stop terrible things that may come to pass? If the issue is that some people have power without working for it, why haven't we killed all the sorcerers?

Should we be listening to a single word from someone who consumes random fey to live longer, and that's just the start of the CVS receipt of atrocities?

Is there a point where one's deeply held beliefs due to one's own personal trauma become invalidated due to one's actions as a result of that trauma? If so, why is the limit for Orym "is okay with killing people who are trying, directly, to kill you (which, frankly, isn't even a trauma response, that's just called not wanting to die, which I highly recommend as a personal philosophy), and gets upset when people defend those knowingly collaborating with his family's murderers" and the limit for Vanguard generals "family abandonment/just. buckets of murder of innocents./child soldier recruitment in multiple different contexts/eating fey as biohacking/destroying an entire city and the surrounding forest for hundreds of years (ongoing)/imperialism in multiple different contexts/I was going to make a gallows humor joke about how while neither exist in-world they've violated the Geneva Convention AND the IRB for testing on human subjects multiple times over but actually those both are in fact written in a lot of the same blood/probably some others that I'm forgetting"

#i feel ultimately a lot of this fandom debate boils down to yes this is obviously fiction #but like within the fiction can you sketch out the implications of your argument or is it just a lot of abstract ideals that can't coexist #I don't actually expect answers to these; obviously the point is if you think there is an easy one there isn't #anyway i'm like if an enlightenment era polymath were a religiously observant agnostic who used the phrase fucking suck ass #cr spoilers #cr tag

[faetima]

I NEED A PART TWO TO SAFETY SCISSORS STATTTT. WHAT ABOUT SCARAS POV??? IS HE DENSE??? I need the reader to DIE and scara finds out and hes zcrushed and RAGH ANGST RAGHHHGHGGRR

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬 . . .

. . he just keeps losing everything again and again and again.

// tws ; slight cursing,, ; gn reader ; modern & high school au, hanahaki au 

a/n: THANK YOU SM FOR HTIS IDEA OMG ILY

link to safety scissors !!

in his dreams, everyone else was irrelevant.

it was only him and you, you and him.

but now, with you gone, he could only wish his dreams were reality.

if only he wasn’t so fucking dense, if only he saw the way your eyes followed him whenever he was in class or in the halls or in the park or anywhere.

he wished he saw the adoration in your eyes before they were dull, showing the everlasting sign of death.

he wished he saw how your eyes lit up whenever he entered the room before they were blurred and bleary with the cloud of death.

he wished he saw how your eyes followed him like contrails before they were staring blankly at the ceiling of your house.

why did he have to be like this?

if he had just told you his feelings maybe you wouldn’t be dead.

maybe he wouldn’t have lost you.

but maybe life was a losing game for him. he didn’t even have the chance to win—he just lost everything again and again and again until there was nothing left for him.

he lost his mom, his childhood friends, everything.

even you.

—

he remembered that in middle school he had been assigned a project with you.

the moment he heard your name with his, he felt the unusual sensation of butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

at the moment, he had just wished you would disappear so that these fucking feelings would go away.

he regretted thinking that so, so much.

karma just kept eating him up and spitting him back out.

—

you and him had both been working on the project, and one thing had led to another and he had suddenly wound up with your left earbud in his ear.

scaramouche wanted you to hate him, wanted you gone.

so he scrunched up his nose in disgust, trying to act indifferent to you and your feelings.

“you listen to this fucking stuff?” he spat, hoping you couldn’t see through his guise.

you had just stayed silent, switching the song.

scaramouche could almost hear the silent cracking of your heart.

—

acting indifferent wouldn’t help anything.

scaramouche should’ve known from all the mistakes he’d done in the past that indifference would go against him, it would never help him.

but he had still acted uncaring anyways.

you were dead now, and all because he decided to act apathetic in order to hide his own feelings for you.

—

he had a memory that, once, in class, you were both seated together. in what seemed to be a haze of nervousness, your leg bounced up and down as you took shaky breaths, anxious and flustered by the fact he was sitting next to you.

scaramouche didn’t know what to do.

maybe if he acted bitter and shit you would stop liking him and these stupid fucking feelings would go away, right? it had always worked in the past, so it wouldn’t fail him now.

but it did. it faltered and failed him and now he regretted it all.

“can you stop that?” his sharp voice cut through the deafening silence of the classroom like a butter knife. you had glanced up, your eyes meeting his. scaramouche’s hands were clenched into fists, cold and clammy from anxiety.

wait, why the fuck was he nervous?

he took a shaky breath in, hoping this angry guise was working. he tried to scowl at you, watching as your eyes filled with the lightest layer of tears, making your eyes look like glass.

“sorry,” he silently watched as you apologized, immediately dropping your gaze down to the desk. scaramouche felt a soft pang of regret, but decided to ignore it.

“whatever,” he spat out, rolling his eyes. his neck and face were burning and his ears had the lightest tint of pink to them. scaramouche prayed that you didn’t notice how flustered he got.

—

maybe if he had confessed, you wouldn’t be gone now.

but no, he just had to keep losing everything again and again and again and again.

he broke into a coughing fit, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth.

and, as scaramouche lowered his hand, a singular purple petal fluttered onto his palm.

#✦ -- scaramouche #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #scara x reader #scaramouche #light angst #angst #how to write angst #modern au #hanahaki #hanahaki au #hanahaki disease #high school #shy reader #scaramouche x shy reader #part 2 #modern #high school au #gn reader

[prythiansfavoritefox]

I was still mulling over all he said when I slipped into my tent to finally change out of my leathers, leaving him and Elain to go find a place to wash up. And talk—perhaps.

Did you ever wonder what was said between the two of them? Well I wrote what I imagined transpired between them!

Lucien and Elain went to another tent, carrying buckets of water with them to wash themselves. Lucien had noticed for a relatively small woman, she packed a surprising amount of strength in her body. All that gardening must have paid off.

He hardly had any idea what to say to her. That had never been a problem for him in the past. He always knew the right thing to say in every situation, even if he didn't always say it (like with Amarantha). But with Elain...words simply left his brain. It was maddening. Cauldron knew he wanted to talk to her, but he didn't know how.

He hadn't failed to notice how Elain had deflected the kill of the King of Hybern to Nesta, even though it was her shot that had ultimately led to his demise. She might not have beheaded him, but she ultimately was the cause of his death. She must know that. But Elain, Lucien observed, was far more peaceful than her sisters. Perhaps the idea of taking another's life was abhorrent to her. That, at least, he could understand. Perhaps there was some sense in their mating bond, after all.

"You're staring," Elain pointed out. Lucien snapped out of his thoughts. "I-er-sorry." Lucien pinched his nose. This was going disastrously. "I was just thinking."

She tilted her head like a curious doe. "Of what?" She placed the large bucket in her arms down, picking up a small bucket to scoop water with to wash her hands.

Shutting up was not Lucien's strong suit, so naturally, the only option was to nervously ramble. "That I am guessing the King of Hybern was your first kill, and I know you despise violence, and so do I, but it's something that unfortunately we have to do under extreme circumstances, and I just wanted to say, that I understand your reluctance to accept that kill. I cried a lot the first time I took a life, and especially after Jesminda, violence disturbs me."

Elain peered at him with those curious eyes again. "Who is Jesminda?"

Lucien internally cursed himself for his inability to shut the fuck up. Not that he wished to hide Jesminda from her, but...he did not wish to speak of her at this time.

"My...well, she was to be my wife. Long ago. Unfortunately, that did not turn out well for either of us."

"Your father killed her?"

Lucien blinked. "How did you know?"

Elain shrugged. "Lucky guess." How the hell was that a lucky guess? He wondered what stories Feyre had told Elain about him. Had she spoken all about his father? Not like Feyre knew all that much about Beron herself.

Just then, Elain began to unbutton her shift. Lucien couldn't control his blush. "Yeah, well, I'll just..." then Lucien pointed in the opposite direction. Elain ignored him. Lucien cursed himself. There was no need to say anything in that situation. Motherfucking idiot. He quickly stripped and began to bathe in the water he had. He tried to ignore the sounds Elain made behind him, focusing on his own shower, but silence bothered him, and his stupid tongue desired to speak again.

"I understand if you're hesitant about the mating bond," he began. Still nothing.

"I just wanted to say...well you're immortal now. And I'm also immortal. You have all the time to decide what you want to do."

He finished off and began to reach for his towel, determinedly avoiding looking at Elain. As he dried himself off, she softly said, "You can look now."

Cautiously, Lucien turned towards her. "Thank you," she said. "For giving me space." She took a deep breath. "I-well, you know I was to be married. I still love him, but I know now that he never loved me." A little steel entered her eyes and her next words were colder. "Otherwise, he would've never rejected me so heartlessly simply because my body changed."

Rage took hold of Lucien's body, a desire to rip Graysen to shreds for having ever claimed Elain, for daring to hurt her feelings in such a heartless way. An uncontrollable mating instinct. He grit his teeth and clenched his fists, weathering the instinct. Deep breaths. One. Two. Finally, he managed to gain a hold of himself enough to speak. "If it makes you feel better, he's ugly and stupid with an eternal stick up his ass," Lucien suggested.

To his relief, Elain burst out laughing. "That does make me feel quite a bit better." Lucien felt a surge of confidence, the last of his anger dissipating, and he gave a bow. "I am at your service m'lady." Elain smiled. "Duly noted, m'lord." Something in his chest sparked at that.

My lord, she had called him.

Her lord.

Her mate.

Her Lucien.

#lucien vanserra #elain archeron #elucien #fanfic

[joshhutchersonsgf]

Could you maybe write a male!reader version of cockwarming Josh while he games? If not it Can be gn too.

COCKWARMING JOSH (gn!reader version)

nsfw | mdni | gn!reader | switch!josh | cockwarming | cursing | praise | unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy) | creampie | pet names | having to stay quiet | brief handjob | josh says hachi machi once (i wanted it to be as canon as possible😭) | not proofread

an: so many people asked for this so 🫶🫶

OH MY GODDDD okay so it definitely would start off with him playing biotic wars waayyyy longer than he told you he would, leaving you frustrated.

you walk into your shared living room where (of course) josh is sitting on the couch with a pair of headphones resting on his ears. josh is yelling at the screen and throwing his hands up in frustration, readjusting the mic to talk to the people on the other side.

you smile at the scene in front of you, making a conscious effort to stifle any laughter that threatens to escape. even though you were annoyed, you still thought it was so cute how serious he was about the things he loves.

you walk over to the couch and sit next to him, hoping he would take the hint that you want to spend time with him. he turns to you for a moment and gives you a gentle smile, genuinely happy to see you. but as quick as he looked to you, he turns back to the screen and yells at his friends in anger, upset they can’t beat the level.

you throw your head back against the cushion in frustration and sigh, annoyed that he still won’t pay attention to you while you’re right next to him.

you knew how much he loved those games, and while you thought it was nice that he was comfortably sharing a hobby he enjoys with you, you wish that he would focus on you just a bit more.

you attempt to get up but before you can get anywhere, josh reaches his arm out and grabs your hand. he looks up at you with those brown, doe-like eyes and you swear you could fall in love again. you knew he was asking you to sit back down, but what was the point if he was just going to play that stupid game the whole time?

josh grabs the side of his headset and clicks a button, letting you know he muted it.

“come sit down on my lap, i missed you.”

your eyes widen at his words and you smile, surprised that he even noticed you get up. the first words to you since you came in here was asking you to sit on him lap? not like you were complaining though.

you crawl into his lap, careful not to block the view of the tv, and try to get yourself comfortable. you gasp when you feel something hard against your ass, and you have to stifle a moan when you turn around to see him smirking at you.

before you could say a word, josh turns on the mic and starts talking again, careful not to get too loud. he doesn’t want to hurt your ears, and you silently thank him.

you try to ignore all the thoughts you’re having of him, thinking about how hard josh is just from you sitting on his lap. it takes everything in you to not just rip his clothes off and ride him into oblivion, but after all, he is trying to play with his friends.

josh’s hips stir underneath you and you hear him gulp loudly. you knew how hard this was for him too, and you wanted to help him. you move your hips in circles a few times, perfectly against his hard on.

josh can’t help the groan that falls from his lips at your movements, but before anyone can ask questions, he covers it up by saying, “this is so fucking annoying.”

relieved that you weren’t caught, you move your hips back again, and josh shoots you a death glare. your hips stutter for a moment at his look, but then, you get an idea.

you get back up from his lap and he starts to ask you where you going, but he realizes exactly what you’re doing as he watches you slowly tug at the ends of your shirt.

you don’t break eye contact as you pull your shirt up, exposing your chest to josh. his eyes flick back to the screen, and he contemplates throwing the controller down and fucking you on the couch. his eyes then go back down to your shirtless body as you completely disregard your top, leaving it somewhere on the floor beside you.

josh gets broken out of his daze when loud shouts come from his headphones, and he quickly goes to turn it off. he turns off his headset, but before he could take them off, you say, “no, no. keep playing, baby.”

josh frowns and his eyes don’t leave yours, even though he really really wants to look down at your chest.

“what are you doing?” you ask, “aren’t you going to play?”

josh lets out a shaky breath and looks back at the screen, a feeling of anxiety running through him. he clicks the button on the side of the headset and turns it back on quickly, apologizing to the others for having to leave so abruptly.

you turn around and face the tv, careful to not block josh’s view but also making sure he can still see you, you bend down and pull down your underwear and shorts.

you turn your head over your shoulder and see josh practically drooling all over himself, and you smile at his reaction.

you step out of your clothes and turn back around, fully facing josh. josh lets out a shaky breath and heat rises to his cheeks. a pink hue lightly sits on his cheeks as he tries to find the words to say.

you look back at the tv and see josh’s character doing nothing, and you turn back to josh and cock an eyebrow. josh’s eyes widen and he quickly looks back at the tv, trying to focus on whatever’s happening on the screen in front of him.

while josh isn’t looking, you drop to the floor in front of him and rest your head on his thigh. josh’s breath catches in his throat and he tries not to look down at you, hands shaking slightly against the controller that sits in his soft hands.

if that game was soooo important to him, why was it so hard for him to focus now? you knew the answer to that question, but the thought still amuses you.

josh continues to play the game as best as he can, only sneaking a few glances down as he feels your hand reach up to his zipper.

the sound of his zipper sliding down makes him tense up, but nonetheless, he still focuses on the screen. you grin to yourself, thinking about how well he listens to everything you tell him to do.

you pull his pants down to his thighs as best as you can, despite him sitting down. your eyes widen in shock when you see the wet spot that has formed on his boxers, and you use your pointer finger to touch it softly.

josh hisses through gritted teeth at the feeling, and you smile thinking about how hard it will be for him to keep quiet. even though you love every sound he makes, you wanted to punish him for being on the game too much.

in all honesty, it really didn’t bother you too much, but it was fun to see him try his best to be quiet and focus on the game.

you pull his dick out of his boxers and take a second to admire it. the pink tip is leaking with precum, and it drips down the side of his dick. you spread the precum around his tip with your finger and hold the head softly.

it takes everything in him not to fuck up into your hand, but he knew he was better than that. instead, he tries to pay full attention to the game, despite the feeling of your hand moving up and down his cock at an antagonizing pace.

josh’s palms sweat against the controller as he tries to listen to the voices coming through the headphones, giving the best responses he could.

you wanted to sit on your knees in front of him and jerk him off until he came, but suddenly, you got a better idea.

you remove your hand from his dick and he frowns, looking down at you with confusion painting his face. you get off your knees and stand up, watching his eyes follow your body. his brown puppy dog eyes look so adorable right now, and you swear you could die on the spot.

you stare down at him and then at his dick that’s begging to be touched. you turn around and get in front of him, blocking his view from the tv and moving your body down.

you grab josh’s dick and line it up with your hole and slowly sink down on it. you have to bite your lip to silence any moans that may spill out of your lips, and when you turn around and see josh’s face, you know he’s struggling just as bad as you are.

every inch you take of him makes it harder to stay quiet, and josh has to cover his mouth with his hand. his controller sits loosely in the other one, and you stop moving down when you realize he’s not playing.

josh frowns but then realizes why you stopped, and takes his hand off his mouth. he moves his head to the side to see the screen, and you continue to sink down until his dick is all the way inside of you.

you lean your body back against josh and try not to think about his dick perfectly stretching you out. you grip his hands and bring them around your body, so he can still play the game while you sit on his dick.

josh sighs and grips the controller tightly, trying to ignore the feeling of your walls gripping his dick tightly. he mumbles a few words to the mic, not like you’re paying attention though.

as the veins along his cock graze your sensitive walls, you feel yourself getting more sensitive with every moment that passed. your vision goes fuzzy with tears as you watch the screen in front of you, seeing josh’s character run around and try to kill the biotics.

josh and his friends beat the level and excitedly yell into their mics, and you hear some muffled words come from the headphones resting on his ears. josh is rambling on about how excited he is and absentmindedly fucks up into you a few times, causing him to stutter over his words.

your mouth falls open in a silent cry and your eyes roll back in your head, the tears the sit at the brink of your eyelids spilling out.

josh pulls his lips through his bottom teeth as he tries to listen to his friends, trying not to stare down at the way your bodies are connected. he gives another quick thrust and you whine, though he’s quick to cover it up with a fake cough.

you hear the headphones click and josh brings his mouth to the side of your ear, then whispers, “you’re gonna have to be quiet if you want to keep doing this. can you do that for me?”

you nod your head aggressively and turn your head around to face his, studying his cocky demeanor. josh unmutes the mic and turns his focus back to the game, talking loudly to the other people on the line as they start a new level.

even though it was your idea, you won’t deny how badly you need him to fuck you. your hole aches with need as you tighten around him, and his breath hitches.

he gives an experimental thrust up into you once, seeing if you can stay quiet or not. you clap a hand over your mouth and whine, careful to muffle the sound so no one hears.

your body slumps against josh’s as you try not to make noise. josh’s hips move up to meet yours and he moans, but quickly catches himself and starts complaining about the game.

when the words “level complete” pop up on the screen, you sigh in relief. you silently begged josh to get off the game and fuck you. even though you wanted to punish him, it felt more like punishment to you.

josh quickly excuses himself and shuts off the game, ignoring his friends pleas to keep playing. he disregards the controller somewhere on the couch, wasting no time and gripping your hips tightly.

“missed you so much, baby,” josh coos, gently thrusting into you. he lets his mouth fall open and moans loudly against your ear. your body twitches against his and you whine, incoherent words falling from your mouth.

“you’re so tight,” josh groans, “feels so good.”

you whimper at his words and move your hips in circles around him. josh brings his lips to the side of your neck and sucks dark circles along your neck and shoulders.

you push your shaky legs to the ground and settle yourself, then pull up off his dick. you both whine at the loss and josh grabs your hips, trying to pull you down again. you line his dick up with your hole and use your legs as leverage to slowly start bouncing on his cock.

“hachi machi.” josh moans, and you scoff at his stupid choice of words. his dick is literally inside of you and the best thing he could say was “hachi machi” ?

you lift off his dick again and slam back down, then starting a rough pace. josh thrusts up harshly into you and your legs almost give out, and josh has to hold you up. josh grips your hips again tighter than before, and you’re sure there will be bruises by tomorrow.

josh picks your hips up and slams them down harshly over and over, and you can feel your orgasm rapidly approaching.

“i’m gonna—” you cut yourself off with a moan when he moves his hand up to your chest, pulling lightly on your nipple.

“gonna cum all over my dick?” he moans, abusing your sweet spot on your neck with his tongue. “i’m close too, baby.”

josh coos over the way you respond to his touch, and he gives more deep thrusts into your hole. josh’s hips stutter underneath you and you feel his warm cum coat your walls. josh is moaning so loudly you are sure the neighbors could hear.

that feeling of his thick cum shooting into you enough to tip you over the edge and you cum around his cock. josh pulls on your nipple, and your back arches against him.

you throw your head back, only giving josh more access. he muffles his loud moans in your neck as your tight hole continues to milk him dry, and you feel like your head is spinning. nothing comes out of your mouth but moans and whimpers as josh continues to fuck you through your orgasm.

his lazy thrusts slow to a complete stop and he pulls you into his chest. you both take a moment to catch your breath while he stays inside of you.

“thank you so much, baby. needed that so fucking bad.” josh breathily whispers, rubbing soothing circles on your waist.

you brace yourself on the ground and pull yourself off, and you both whine at the loss. you plop down next to him on the couch and sigh, leaning your body against his.

you and josh sit like that for a moment before he asks, “wanna take a bath to clean up?”

#josh hutcherson #josh futturman x gn!reader #josh futturman #josh futturman x you #josh futturman smut #josh futturman x reader #gn reader #future man #josh hutcherson is so hot pls #josh hutcherson smut #mike schmidt #derek danforth #billy burn #clapton davis #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #josh hutcherson is my man #five nights at freddys movie

[inuiiwonderland]

Stupid teenager in love

Ace seems to be in deep denial about his feelings for the prefect. Everyone can tell the heartslabyul first year has feelings for the prefect of ramshackle but he’s still denying it! So, the rest of the first year gang take it upon themselves to help Ace come to terms with his feelings.

Ace trappola x gn! Reader

Genre: Fluff (shocker), the first year gang smacking some sense into Ace, Ace getting jealous, and um that’s it🤍

-

A loud cackle can be heard in the lounge as some people nearby glanced at their booth and some even gave them weird looks. The first year gang side eye ace. They were all trying to have a serious conversation with the red head but he couldn’t even take the situation seriously!

“Me? In love with the prefect? HAHA! Please as if!”

“We never said that you were in love with them”

“Oh” His face heats up before he quickly looks away.

“But you guys are making it seem like I am!” He says as he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, but we wouldn’t be surprised if you were” It was Jack who spoke as he sighs and shakes his head. Ace just groans as he slumps further down onto the chair.

“Jeez why do you guys even think I like the prefect anyway?” Everyone looked at him in utter disbelief as he continued to talk.

“Are you being serious right now?”

“Yer so dumb it’s actually making my head hurt!”

“I know you’re dumb, but I didn’t know you were this dumb”

“Hey!”

“It’s a shame your parents have you as their child!”

“Okay that's so not cool!” He glares at them before getting up from his seat and grabbing his bag.

“I don’t know how many more times I have to say this but I’m only going to say it once. I don’t like the prefect!”

And he stomps off.

The rest of the group give each other a knowing look.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Yep”

“Uh huh”

“Unfortunately”

“He’s a stupid teenager in love”

“Agree” they all say in unison”

-

Giggles can be heard in the gym as Ace glowing glare is directed towards his upperclassman. The water bottle in his hand is crushed by how tightly he’s holding it.

“Jamil! You did really well in today's game!” You say as you hand him a water bottle. Jamil smiles and takes it from your hands. Thanking you before the two of you continue to talk.

“Oooo what’s got crabby so mad?” Ace was so busy glaring daggers at Jamil that he didn’t notice Floyd sneaking up behind him.

“Fuck off Floyd!”

“Eh? What did you just say?”

Shit

“Just leave me alone and go bother someone else”

“Mmm don’t wanna!~”

Ace just decides to ignore him as he continues to watch you and Jamil interact.

Why do you look so happy? And why are you being all touchy touchy towards Jamil?! Do you like him or something?

As ace continues to list off all the different possibilities about why you were so close to Jamil, that he didn’t notice the ball that was heading towards him at a ridiculously fast pace.

“Ace!”

“Ace look out!!”

He snaps out of his thoughts and his eyes turn to look at you.

“Huh?”

SMACK!!

The loud sound of a ball hitting something was heard in the gym as gasps echoed across the whole room.

Ace felt his whole face burn as he hisses at the impact of the ball hitting him. He groaned as he felt liquid fall from his nose.

“Ace!” He slowly opened his eyes to be met with your worried face.

He could feel his whole face flush

“Ace! Oh my sevens are you okay?”

“Floyd, why'd you do that?!”

“He was ignoring me and being rude!” Jamil just sighs as he massages his temple and sucks in a deep breath.

“Prefect, You don’t mind taking him to the infirmary do you?”

“Of course not! Ace c’mon I’m taking you to the nurses office!”

“Ughh”

“Floyd”

“Aww you guys are so boring and mean! It was funny!”

-

The trip to the nurse’s office was quick. You sat next to Ace as he held the ice pack near his injury. He was mumbling stuff under his breath as he stared into space.

“Ace”

Nothing

“Acee”

Still nothing

“Ace!”

“Huh” He hisses and holds his head as a massive headache forms. You quickly pass him a water and make- well more like force him to lay on your lap.

“What’d you do to make Floyd throw a basketball at you?” He scoffs as he rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t do anything!” He winces when he feels the headache come back again.

“Well you must’ve done something! He said you were ignoring him and being rude”

“What?!” He regrets it once his head starts hurting again.

“You should stop moving and shouting too much! That’s why your headache keeps coming back to get your ass!”

“Whatever”

“Anyways, what did you do?”

“I already told you, I didn’t do anything” he mumbles. Enjoying being able to lay down on your lap.

Wait what?

No he’s not enjoying it! He’s just trying to get comfortable!

“Mm that’s not what Mr mood swings said”

“Ugh I don’t-“ He stops his sentence once he remembers.

Right

He was to busy glaring daggers at Jamil that he didn’t bother paying attention to Floyd

“Fuck my life” He says as he closes his eyes.

You tilt your head in confusion before continuing to comb your hands through his hair.

It was silent. Neither of you were talking and the two of you didn’t mind that. It was rather a comfortable silence.

That is until the doors to the infirmary were slammed open.

“What happened?”

“Ha you dummy! What ya do to make Floyd throw a ball at you?” Epel laughs as ace glares at him.

“Shut up you dwarf!”

“Eh?! Oh you little-“

“That’s enough” You thank Jack as he just nods at you before looking down at Ace who was currently laying on your lap. He raises a brow before looking at the others.

Deuce, epel, and sebek give each other a knowing look before deuce smirks.

“I see you're doing okay now. Do you feel comfortable ace?” You can hear the slight tease in his voice as you only chuckle.

The red head only looks at him confused until he realizes that he’s laying on your lap. He quickly shoots up but later regretting it as the headache from earlier quickly rushes to him.

“Shut up!” He quickly gets up before stumbling out of the nurse’s office.

“What’s up with him?” You ask. The others just shrugged.

If only you knew

-

It’s been a constant battle with ace and the first years. They have been trying for the last couple of weeks to help Ace come to terms with his feelings towards you. But he’s just too stubborn!

He doesn’t believe he likes you that way!

You’re his friend! He’s the first friend you made when you first got here!

The two of you only see each other as friends!

Nothing more, nothing less.

Just friends

That’s what he likes to believe

He was still bitter at the way you were being all warm and cozy with Jamil BUT that’s because he doesn’t want you to replace him!

He definitely wasn’t jealous

Nope nada nu uh

Definitely not because of that

The walk to the mirror chambers felt longer than usual. He was busy scrolling through twsttok that he didn’t hear his name being called from behind him.

“Ace, don't make me throw something at you!”

Now that got his attention

He quickly turns around to only see you

You

“Mm? What do you want?”

“Ouch. You don’t want me around or something?” You joke and he just rolls his eyes.

“I was just teasing”

“Yeah I know” You walked beside him as he continued scrolling down the app.

“Where’s grim?”

“With the rest of the first years” He frowns. Weird, you never go anywhere without that furball.

“So why were you looking for me?”

“Hey I just wanted to spend some time with you” He felt his face flush.

Shit! Say something!

“Am I that charming that you couldn’t resist being away from me for too long?” He teases. He was trying so hard to not make it look like your words held so much power over him.

“Yeah you’re so charming that I can’t spend a second away from you”

His eyes widen

Okay he definitely didn’t expect that

You laugh as you smacked his shoulder

“What? You expected me to just stand there and say nothing back?”

“I well duh!” You rolled your eyes.

“No but seriously. I do want to spend some time with you”

“Well I can’t blame ya. I’m just toooo irresistible!”

“More like irritating”

The both of you laughed as you made your way to the mirror chamber.

Sevens, when was the last time Ace felt like taking someone out on a date and having the urge to kiss them?

His last relationship didn’t end all too well but with you. He just feels more…well alive.

But there’s no way in all of twisted wonderland that you won’t feel some sort of way for him.

“Y’know…I notice how weird you have been acting lately”

“Eh? Weird? Ugh, the weird one is you!”

“Shut up pea brain!” You smacked him as he only laughs.

You look cute when you’re all riled up.

“Anyways as I was saying! I noticed you have been acting rather strangely these couple of months”

“How?”

“Well for starters, you’ve been awfully clingy around me, you got ten times more protective, and you literally scare away every guy who tries to talk to me. Why’s that?” Ace's grip on his bag tightens as he tries to not look at you.

“Don’t know what your talking about”

“Oh c'mon you know exactly what I’m talking about”

“Nope. Not a single clue” You sigh as you stop walking completely.

“Ace” He stops walking and turns around to face you.

“What?”

“Why do you keep denying it?”

What

“What?” His brows furrowed as he frowned.

“Why do you keep denying that you like me?”

It’s almost like time stops completely. The two of you just stood there. Not saying a single word.

Until you spoke up

“Am I that bad or embarrassing for you to admit-“

“No!” You flinch at his tone and he immediately shuts up.

“No it’s not that! It’s just-“

“Then what is it? I've been waiting for a confession for ages yet you still haven’t told me anything!”

“Just tell me the truth. Do you like me or not?”

He just stood there. Shocked.

A flash of hurt was seen in your features before you sighed and turned around.

“Wait!”

You stopped and turned around to see Ace right in front of you.

Fuck it

“I do like you! I always have! I just never came to terms with my feelings because I knew you never saw me as something else but a friend!”

Fuck

Fuck

Fuck

He did it

He actually did it

And he could feel himself cringe at the cheesy words but he didn’t care.

He wants you to know that he likes you. More than just a friend.

You stared at him before you broke into a fit of giggles.

“Huh? What’s so funny?”

“I know”

“What” you smiled at him before booping his nose.

“I said I know. I always knew you liked me. I was just waiting for you to finally say something”

WHAT?!

“HUH?!” You giggle before kissing his cheek.

“It’s okay because I also like you too!”

Ace just stood there frozen.

“Finally!”

“Sevens you were going to give me an aneurysm with how long you took to confess”

“Congratulations trappola! You finally gathered the courage to confess to the prefect!”

“Congrats dummy”

“Yuck! All this lovey dovey stuff is making me sick!” Grim complains as he sticks out his tongue. You only giggle before looking back at Ace who was still lost.

“You okay?”

“Yeah I am….why didn’t you ever say you liked me back?”

“Because I wanted you to say it first. It took some pushing but you still told me first nonetheless” He just shakes his head before smiling.

“But I guess it wasn’t a lie when I said that I was irresistible”

“Ugh fuck off”

Now it was his turn to laugh

They were right

He’s just a stupid teenager in love

-

My very first fluff fic??😱 (I think… idk I forgot😭)

Anyways I just wanted to write something sweet and cute so I hope you guys like!🤍🤍🤍

#inuiiwonderland🤍 #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst x gn reader #twisted wonderland x gn reader #twst heartslabyul #twst ace #twst ace trappola #twisted wonderland ace #ace x reader #ace trapolla x reader #twst fluff #twisted wonderland fluff #twst imagines #disney twst #twst first years #twst deuce #twst jack #twst epel #twst sebek #twst grim

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

feel free ignore this but i was just wondering when you started writing fics bc theyre all so amazing wtf???

ignore this sweet ask?? NEVER!!

so, to be completely honest, this is not the first time i've written and published fics!! though, i've NEVER received attention like this and it's so so nice!!

i've been writing little stories in my head for probs as long as i can remember. writing was just always something that i've done and i have distinct memories of crying to my mom about how hard it was sometimes when the words came out wrong or i struggled to spell them correctly. this would later be diagnosed as dyslexia but my mom made sure to get me the correct support i needed!! it still fucking sucks but whatevas lmao

also, my mom loved to write when she was in college!! and she was really good, too, but she gave it all up to marry my (stupid ass) dad and raise my sister and i. but that's a really sad story for another day.

BUT i wrote some crappy mcu fanfic on here when i was like 10?? really really bad i hadn't even seen all the movies when i wrote that i just thought bucky was hot lmao- (do not go looking for that shit i will cut you- i don't even know how you would find that but no! bad!)

then, during covid, i had a fever dream the night before christmas (deadass im not being funny) and started writing fanfic for...ugh i can't believe im gonna say this but it was sherlock lmao-

like...legit 12 books. each with like eight to nine chapters. it basically followed the plot of the show EXACTLY except for with the add in of my oc lmao. that's posted on wattpad (again. i will commit crimes to keep my name away from that shit lmao- i tried rereading it the other day and nearly died from cringe)

OH AND I WENT THROUGH A CRINGY ASS POETRY PHASE LMAO THOSE WERE BAD BAD- tbh might be willing to share them to strictly laugh at but idk where i would find it anymore bc i feel like ive scrubbed it off my phone-

all that to say, i've been doing crappy writing for a very long time, but this is the first time that i've actually felt really proud of my work. also, you're such a sweetheart to ask this and it was so fun to reply to!! i really do love yapping yall up!!

anyways, hope this made sense and i WILL find you if you so much as THINK about finding my old fics lmao-

#no but fr if yall find them i will legit be impressed #MORE than impressed #return to sender ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ

[ca-suffit]

yeah anon I don't want to publish ur specific ask for the reasons u said, but thank u for reminding me of this post. this post from nalyra-dreaming was part of the affirmative action drama and I think a lot of what's in this post got lost out being talked about because of that. so let's talk about it. let's comb thru this so ppl can rly understand nalyra's racism and what they're defending when they want to defend her.

first off, lol take ur own advice. but anyways. this way of speaking is crazy. this is why this whole group of besties put everyone off as time went on. that's why it's lol when ppl come to me saying nobody likes u, we prefer them. okay?? ur weird and u like being yelled at idk. these ppl read some dumb books and think they work on the show. they reference each other's fanon more than anything else. there's no discussions. they talk AT u. it's a bunch of ppl who want to be seen as smart and popular. that's it lol. "we've been trying to tell them" girl u don't work on the show stfu.

this bitch is a whole bitch. u act like u have been victimized by a black fan because you had a disagreement. u play up "I tried to listen and I agree too! poor me, THEY don't want to hear anything else but what THEY want to hear :(" and THEN u have the fckn audacity to say shit like why aren't u all listening to BLACK MAN JACOB ANDERSON. why aren't u listening to black fans? why are u here making this post to act like a victim to "mean" black fans who just don't listen to facts and logic and jacob anderson himself. why are u here twisting this shit up to pretend u have empathy for black ppl by stepping over everyone here (who does not have to filter anything for show press) and saying "actually ur all wrong and stupid and ur the REAL racists because u take away jacob and bailey's own voices."

this is a real level of fucking evil racist shit and why I'm spelling this out rly slow rn so u all understand.

"Louis is not chained to his coffin guys, he could have left, and a fight which shows off power discrepancies within the show story line is not automatically domestic abuse."

u jump thru so many hoops for lestat's defense it has made u dumb as fuck.

where was louis supposed to go? he's black, his family hates him, his husband is a demon spawn who stalks everyone down who tries to leave. who BEAT HIS ASS already at the *thought* that he'd even leave. that's not DV?? he could have left?? how are u like 50 years old and victim blaming like this and then saying u have authority over analyzing these books for the peasants here lol.

the favorite go to line from this dumb group is "they're monsters" "they're vampires." anne rice was famous in the first place for using iwtv to humanize vampires. I think she used this type of "logic" over time too tho and that's prbly where this comes from. it's a bad excuse tho. we're talking about DV but u say it's not DV and then say "they're all murderers anyway so nothing matters." girl the redemption isn't about vampirism, it's about whiteness. u big fucking dummies who can't talk about race always want to pretend this is about lestat being a vampire and how we're too stupid to understand vampires and monsters. the horror of lestat rn is his whiteness. the horror is the power that gives him as he's the least capable of rational thought in that whole "family" unit. he's ignorant, controlling, and quick to anger. he never tries to fix his ignorance, he makes excuses for all his behavior because he CAN. because society allows him to do that! louis and claudia can't make any mistakes or be forgiven because black ppl are not given that same grace. u can call lestat a monster because on a white man that's still an attractive quality. ppl LUV white serial killers and abusers so much and hype them up like they're galaxy brain heroes. calling a black person a monster is just every day. with no benefit. that's the one u rly believe is the threat and then u shoot to kill.

she's so dumb omfg. isolation doesn't mean put in an empty room. lestat wove himself into every aspect of louis' life so that louis could not exist without him. yes, on a level, louis was showing off his man, but u see how the "roots" take hold more and more over time. he's living in lestat's house, lestat is now the one driving the car. more and more lestat is telling them what they're doing and becoming critical of what louis will not give up. acting up v loudly when he doesn't get his way (he brings antoinette in when louis isn't "acting right" so he can torture louis at his job so he'll fix himself already, then he "allows" louis to see other people except now I'm gonna overreact about that too, now I've chased claudia off but btw did u know I've always had a big dick and u not being fun for me anymore is why all of this has ever happened??)

again with the evilness of trying to prove ur shit point by saying "if u disagree with me then u hate black people (jacob anderson) even tho I'm speaking over all black ppl here with this post." ok lestat lol. u are always trying to excuse lestat's actions for being what they are by saying there's a book reason behind it or saying louis or whatever black or brown character is the REAL abuser. do u think abuse has to be intentional to count as abuse? do u rly think lestat's actions are justified when he could have easily explained any of it without doing all that? his response to louis' depression is to do everything I wrote above. u think that's not abuse? u think that's not isolation? "be my companion" but he didn't mean emotionally. u don't think that's maybe the arc lestat is going to have to go thru to be a better partner to louis? what do u think his arc is then, louis just made it all up and soon we won't have to care about race and lestat has been a cool guy this whole time just kidding?? anne rice rly gave u a smooth ass brain.

I don't even know what this means. u all love to skip over points and just say "okay SWEETIE u just don't understand dark themes and monsters, u won't ever get it." okay U, SWEETIE, ur 50 years old, talk slow for me. I know u can do it. if u want authority then prove u know ur shit. a loud voice by itself doesn't do anything but yell. but this is all mama rice taught u tho. so here we are lol.

"everything is unreliable narration except for lestat who is always telling the truth because his egotistical crazy ass white woman author who wanted to be a white man so badly and wrote in his voice IRL to yell at ppl for real said he's telling the truth" u are all so crazy and racist and then u get big mad when ppl notice how crazy and racist u are lol. this gap between series airing has been annoying af but it's sure exposed ur asses because ur not smart like u think u are. when someone rly shows up and breaks down ur arguments to ur face and that is the sole reason I'm here, u all have nothing to say anymore. so fuck u lol enjoy this well earned fallout.

#interview with the vampire #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire amc #iwtv amc #amc iwtv #iwtv 2022 #fandom racism #nalyra-dreaming

[yandereteentitans]

Save Your Life

Summary: You save Robin, only because you don't want some lowlife criminals to kill him; That's your job Pairings: Robin x Villain! Reader [You could see this as another part to Don't Let Me Down, but not a direct part 2] [Short again]

You weren't always watching Robin, even though he seemed to think otherwise. No one had time for something stupid like that- At least not with a million other superheroes/vigilantes running around that you had to keep an eye out for. The only person who seemed to always have an eye on Robin was Slade, but that was none of your business.

With that being said, there were times where you did do a little stalking on him. That's what lead to this situation-

---

He was going to die. Alone. Maybe it was how he was supposed to leave the world? He didn't know, but he didn't feel good. Though his life was about to get much worse. Especially when he saw a familiar face looking down at him.

He groaned as you crouched down to his level. His eyes may have been fucked up and bruised, but he could still see you; Annoying, troublesome you.

"Wow, you look like shit."

He huffs, but doesn't respond in any words. He couldn't fall asleep, because he doesn't trust you; Although, he couldn't stop his eyes from slowly falling.

You watch as he closes his eyes, as you examine his body. His clothes were torn and he was covered in cuts and bruises. You hoped you didn't encounter it. Though, it didn't kill him, so it couldn't have been that bad- Unless it was him...

You shook your head, before raising a hand to his face. A light glow emits from your hand, before it covers his face. You hear him groan again, but you decide to ignore it. His face slowly starts to heal, with the skin quickly healing over the cuts.

He groans again, but his eyes stay close. You stand up, slightly kicking him.

"Okay, buddy. You have to get up, I'm sure your idiot friends are looking for you. So, stop being a baby and get up; you're fine."

He only groans, causing you to roll your eyes. You look around, before clicking your tongue and looking back at him. You sigh, trying to decide what to do. But before you can make a decision, the world decides to make it for you and you hear voices- Their voices.

"I think he's over here, guys!"

You quickly crouch, before flying off, leaving him for his friends to find.

---

Robin awakes with his neck painfully stabbing him. He looks around to find himself in the tower. He didn't remember how he got there, but he did remember that you had helped him. Why did you help him? Maybe you were all that bad- No, he shook his head. You were evil just like the rest and he was sure you were trying to lower his guard. Though, if anything, this just made him more on guard.

There was a part of him though that knew you had caught him at his most vulnerable and instead of killing him you helped him. It was strange and he didn't like it. But maybe you were changing? He doubted it though. He knew you liked causing mischief, it seemed in your nature- So for you to change, it'd have to be a miracle. But, maybe one day you would change, and he could offer you a spot with the Titans. Anything could happened, he supposes, but not any time soon.

#teen titans x reader #teen titans #yandere teen titans #yandere teen titans x reader #yandere robin x reader #yandere robin #robin x reader #robin #dick grayson x reader #dick x reader #dick grayson #richard dick

[utilitycaster]

Apologies, but can you elaborate on what you meant with

"As of late, the banner of those wronged by the gods has shifted from any of Bells Hells to those of Aeor, and that is a bad sign in a D&D campaign. If you need to set aside the PCs in order to rely on NPCs who have not shown up in the current narrative? You are clinging to a melting iceberg, my man."

Sure, so...among the people who are advocating that the Only Good And True Solution is for Bells Hells to kill the gods (a position that has already required frantic backpedaling from "what if the Vanguard is good" due to the murders), the poster children for "those wronged by the gods" are now "the people of Aeor."

Now. I do not deny that the gods destroyed Aeor. I think if you are holding the gods to the standard of "They should have prevented Calamity", and the two things they've banded together about have specifically been "stop Predathos" and "destroy Aeor" and Aeorians were creating a god-killing weapon the plans of which are being used now in the Predathos plot, I think it's worth considering whether you believe that self-defense is inherently unjust if your reason is "but i really wanna fucking kill them" but that's a whole other discussion.

The point at hand is that as a rule, in a D&D game, the enemies of your D&D party are, uh, going to be the enemies in the story. And so:

Chetney: wronged by some random werewolf and by a dude named Drixlitch; killed by Otohan, a Vanguard general

Laudna: wronged by and killed by Delilah Briarwood; killed by Otohan, a Vanguard general

FCG: arguably, made to be an unwitting killing machine by Aeor. Sacrificed himself when the unwitting killing machine abilities took over, depriving a nearly TPK-ed party of their healer; took themself out to kill the Vanguard general (Otohan) that was going to kill all of them.

Fearne: specifically designed to be Ruidusborn by Zathuda, working with the Vanguard; Zathuda's relationship with her mother has some really worrying veiled portions re: how consensual it all was while we're at it. Killed by Otohan, a Vanguard general

Imogen: Honestly Predathos's relationship with the Ruidusborn seems rather predatory and manipulative but that's another conversation; abandoned by and generally treated like a morality pet by her mother, a Vanguard general. Otohan would have killed her too, regardless of her Ruidusborn status.

Orym: Father and husband permanently killed by Otohan, a Vanguard general. Killed by Otohan, a Vanguard general.

Ashton: nearly blown up/sent to a faraway desert and orphaned by elemental titan-worshiping parents; nearly killed by magic possessed by or committed by Jiana Hexum, who was at minimum collaborating with the Ruby Vanguard on imports.

In case you noticed, unless you hold the gods accountable for all bad things happening...none of them have been wronged by the gods. They have, at best, been ignored by the gods (which was earlier on an argument against the gods but people gave that up, on account of it being dumb as dogshit stupid). On the other hand, man, sure feels like that Ruby Vanguard did a whole bunch of killing. If you have to ask the viewers to ignore the feelings of the main PCs in favor of the [dead, can't disagree with you although uh, FCG sure did] people of Aeor*...you have, quite literally, lost the plot.

*You know what's interesting? There's people stuck in stasis bubbles in Aeor, and there's a growing number of Aeormatons, too. If the issue is "Aeor was an incalculable loss" why is your focus "we should plunder the Malleus Factorum - something that was controversial and caused massive unrest within Aeor itself even it its time - and awaken the god-eater, which had long been sealed by the time of Aeor" and not "holy shit we could seek out and interview and assist the Aeormatons and revive a bunch of Aeorians!" If your issue with the Calamity was "there was an incalculable loss of life" why is your solution "create a murder cult"? If your issue with Vasselheim is "they are hiding crucial information about Ruidus and they are colonizing small towns in central Issylra" why is your murder cult murdering all the moon researchers who also worked against Vasselheim and why are you allying with the empire that took over the entire moon and wants to do the same to Exandria? If the issue is "the gods have too much power and use the power of others" why is Predathos any different, and frankly, Ludinus looks pretty fucking fishy too.

#cr tag

[thedevotionaltour]

genuinely fucking embarrassing for aaron kuder as well as everyone who looked over the art and approved it to have continuously drawn the incorrect cane for matt. like honestly shameful as an artist. you couldn't do your basic research task on a white cane? to ensure you were drawing the correct aid for matt to use? it's further embarrassing when in issues four and five matt does have one because germán peralta and farid karami, you know, did their basic job as artists of making sure matt had the correct cane. if nothing else look at any comic from recent time and you would know matt has a white cane. this isn't the 1960s. this is not difficult. this is highly shameful on kuder's end and im not going to be nice and just say it's disappointing. i find it correct to call it embarrassing and frustrating. it is your basic task as an artist to research your references for character props. if you can make sure your cars and apartment buildings and costumes are correct you can take five seconds to make sure this is correct too. if you can draw matt's billy club correct you can draw this correct too. there is no excuse.

#static.soundz #like when it is only kuder working on the art it is like this. i skimmed through to make sure i wasnt being stupid. #and bc those other two issues he had the white can i cant find it in myself to believe there is a good intentional reason for this #and if there is. well it better be damn fucking good. bc i dont get it. #especially considering we have had rivera's wonderfully done cane as billy club for matt. like we know how to work all these things together #and if you want them as separate items well again. not fucking haaard. so i really see no good reason for this #outside of a pure intentional ignorance.

[chrollohearttags]

everything that could go wrong today has and I’m just ready to call it quits for this year while I’m ahead. Not even going to try anymore.

#rant in tags ignore if you don’t want to see my bitching #literally two things broke in the bathroom while I was using it and ik I’m gonna have to hear my dad’s fucking mouth abt it #I literally never cause trouble break or ask for anything #always walking on eggshells bc I never wanna make trouble for him or anybody else #but the first to volunteer my help but getting yelled at over a stupid discrepancy for an Amazon order #I explained that my bank sucks so much so I’ve only stuck to using CashApp bc it steals money #but he basically accuses me of stealing his money to help my brother #my selfish ass brother who I do everything for can’t even have the decency not to touch my stuff I brought specifically for me #but you’ll gladly stick ur neck out for a neighborhood drug addict and help them #ur kids can never have room for error #I’m responsible for all of my affairs I don’t ask him for a damn thing I even buy groceries every month and the internet #god forbid one thing goes wrong and he flies off the handle #two seconds from slitting vertically #not even doing this I’m done #I’m tired of living like this tbh #I can’t even drive myself or barely even walk lmao #what is the fucking point #cherry chats 🍒 #I’m sorry I’m just frustrated bc how dare you act like I cause so much trouble

[toytulini]

god I know this is like The Wrong Stance on AI. I know its not about whether the art is Real and Human or If It Has A Soul and how a lot of the arguments against it are the same bullshit arguments people made against digital art like I Know. I Knowwww. but god, I'm really sorry, not to post like one of those annoying poetry bloggers I cant stand (yall are valid, live your truth, theres nothing wrong with what you post I'm just a petty bitch who hates poetry. unless I dont hate it.)

But theres just something about the way AI art will almost certainly never be able to mimic the exact way my pencil leaves an indentation in the paper, the way some of the lines I can never fully erase cause I pressed too hard, theyll have to at least train them to draw with a physical pencil first, and sure, they could train it to draw with a pencil and even erase the exact same piece I drew, line for line, on a piece of paper with a robot arm powered by AI, but they can't replicate. idk. the lineage of lefty bitches in my family, and the way I grew up going through school with my entire left arm silver with graphite, from doodling on my schoolwork. not yet anyway. but I guess I do live for the day we make the ai sentient enough that we can traumatize it by giving it homework after kneecapping its executive functions so it copes by drawing a big tiddy lobster monster. sure

#toy txt post #reblogs OFF i dont trust yall to be normal with this one i do NOT want it getting notes #i posted part of this before in a chat to a friend but im feeling it again. so #i havent drawn my big tiddy lobster bitch in awhile i should draw her again #also yea SORRY im sure this is The Wrong Feeling To Have About AI but also sometimes im a little grateful that i dont think my style is #smth a lot of the ppl coding ai to make art find to be worth trying to replicate except maybe as like a fake progress shot on a piece #which is smth i used to be really insecure about. how unfinished all my art looks bc it isnt to the point i cant fucking watch #like speedpaints and shit bc i just start feeling stupidly insecure about all the points in the video where I Would Have Stopped and been #like. im not touching it anymore i dont want to ruin it #and ive been insecure about my inability to really do digital art with like a stylus and shit like the way i do it with a pencil #and i know that is just me needing to Practice it but being too frustrated by it #anyway i know its just a Tool and its Fine and the problem is the art theft and the labor problems of it but liiiiiiike #i just. #im sure there will be unique things and usages of ai as a tool and i genuinely hope that ppl can figure out a way to make one that isnr #isnt* just full of stolen content bc theres unique fuckin shit about like digital art programs u can write stupid poetry that you hate #about it. or stupid poetry that i hate. cos im the poetry hater. listen. i cant stress this enough: its fine. youre fine. keep posting your #poetry and reblogging shit that speaks to you. im just a Bitch okay Ignore Me #i should go draw bokrae like. eating a computer about this #the real reason for that graphics card shortage was bokrae ate them all when she was in the mood for a crunchy snack