#so why the fuck would i tell them that their perfectly normal actions are making me feel like everyone hates me

[entropyunending]

babygirl there is absolutely nothing normal about my emotions. i can blow up at the littlest of things and feel like everyone hates me at the tiniest hint of rejection like you wouldn't BELIEVE

#🔪 #god i just want to have normal reactions to things #especially when i have to fucking internalize every explosive reaction i have #i have to just disappear or pretend everything is fine or literally just stop saying a single word #because otherwise i will blow up on people and i will fuck everything up #and i will ruin relationships because of my own emotions that i can't control and have a mind of their own #i know internalizing them isn't what i should do but what other option do i have? #i can't talk about them. i can't let them show. #because they are overreactions #and it's not anyone's fault #i can't tell them how awful they make me feel because they are literally not at fault at all #they're not doing a single thing wrong but my brain is overreacting and perceiving that they are #even though i KNOW they aren't #so why the fuck would i tell them that their perfectly normal actions are making me feel like everyone hates me #that's not a normal or okay reaction to have #especially when all that happened was they just gave the same one word response multiple times in a row when i was talking about something #and i perceived that to mean that they didn't care at all about what i was saying #and that i'm annoying and should just shut the fuck up and never talk about anything i'm excited about or like ever again #because no one wants to actually hear it and all i will do is annoy everyone #like that's. not a normal reaction to have and it's completely unjustified so i can't just. say that.

[celestialwhoree]

If you’re not taking requests then just ignore me! But could you maybe write something for Soap and Ghost both wanting the same girl and she opts to not choose 🥰 I’m dying to read your smutty take on this

I'm like chowing down on your brain right now this is so scrumdiddyumyum 🎀

nsfw ⭐️ mdni

Johnny wanted you first. The, moment you hopped down from the helo and into his life, he wanted you. Everything about the way your eyes glittered in the early spring sunlight to the way your errant baby hairs practically begged for him to sweep them back behind your ears, everything about you. You'd been called in as a temporary spotter for a few missions, but he earnestly, foolishly hoped you'd stick around. Just for a little while.

He'd also foolishly hoped that he'd be the only one to want you. In the beginning, he thought he was.

But of course, fucking Simon had to ruin everything. Of course. He has a tendency to not realise what an Adonis he is, with his towering six foot frame and muscles for days, no, weeks. Simon, and his innate ability to have every woman in the same room simpering.

He'd noticed the switch in a debrief. Normally cold, callous Simon guiding you through the door with a hand on the small of your back, pulling out your chair for you with such cool, casual confidence. Normally such an action would mean nothing. Nothing would change between them or the team. They'd never liked the same types or gone for the same women. You, unfortunately, were a perfect blend of the things they both absolutely adored. Just chirpy enough to keep up with Johnny's boisterous personality, mellow enough to relax with Simon. You were just bratty enough to give Johnny the fight he fight he always craved, submissive enough to know when Simon wanted you to stay in line. You were dangerously perfect.

You also had a tendency to come in early in the mornings. Like your teammates. More specifically, Johnny and Simon, that is.

Simon always came in early after the gym, to not only get to the teabags first, but also settle into his morning work routine before the others arrived.

Johnny would in as early as possible to try and get the first appointment with the physio whenever she dropped in.

For you, it had actually been a one off. You'd left your charger in the common room yesterday, and wanted to make sure your laptop wasn't dead for briefing minutes.

The quiet arguing begins the common room door had been unexpected to say the least.

Johnny's delicious brogue grew thicker as your ear pressed to the door, eyebrows furrowing as you attempted to gain an understanding of their conversation.

" - cannae understand why you won't jus' leave her alone."

"She seems perfectly fine with my attention." Simon drawled back, and you'd be lying if you said it didn't have your knees weak with the thought alone.

In your not-yet-eight-AM delirium, you'd barely even registered that the door wasn't all the way closed. Until you'd barrelled into it. With your full body weight. The string of colourful expletives which passed through your lips as you went crashing into the threadbare rug had been enough to snap Johnny and Simon from their boyish row.

"Speak of the devil." The amusement dripping from Simon's voice had you cringing.

"Laptop? I -" You'd barely managed to stammer before Johnny had you back up on your feet, a concerned look on his face as he went to pick up your (thankfully) unscathed laptop.

"Didnae realise you were one to eavesdrop, hen." Johnny cooed into your ear, a wonderfully warm hand gripping your chin to tilt your head this way and that, making sure you'd not been hurt by your fall.

"Might as well tell her whilst she's here, hm?" Coaxed Simon as you were guided to the squishy old couch in the middle of the room.

"Tell me?"

"Ask you, really." Simon again, with an indifferent shrug.

"We're - we both like ye a lot, hen." Johnny wouldn't dare crowd your space, no matter how strong the urge to reach for your hand, give it an encouraging squeeze.

"I like you too?" You'd vaguely heard yourself mumble, although the sound seemed so disjointed - foggy as you sunk into the depths of your feelings for both men. Equally.

"I like you both, too." Both men nodded as you reiterated what they'd suspected.

"No problem with that." Johnny encouraged, seeing your slightly flustered look, skittish and edgy, having been thrown into such a situation unwillingly, and this early in the morning. "It's twenty-twenty-four. Definitely no the weirdest shite I've seen happening."

"Like - sharing?" You stammered awkwardly, gaze flickering between Simon's understanding one, and Johnny's eager blues.

"S'pose we could give it a try." Simons gruff voice filled the room, tamping down the anxiety bubbling away in your tummy.

"Would you -?" You'd pointed a finger between the two of them, wordlessly indicating the direction of your question, without having to actually speak it.

"For now? No." Simon seemed to have, surprisingly, already thought the entire thing through. Always two steps ahead.

"But we don't mind sharing, so long as yer comfortable with that, hen."

And now, not even a month later, you're sat in the backseat of Simon's car, lips locked with Johnny's in a fervent kiss, your hand stroking eagerly around his shaft, whilst Simon's fingers curl up against the velvety walls of your pussy, his nose bumping the base of your jaw as he nips and sucks at your neck.

You've found that Simon barely needs to be touched to cum, perfectly contented to touch you and taste you until he finishes still straining at his jeans, whilst Johnny is far more hands-on, needs your help, to know you're there. That it's you and no one else.

The two of them are actually getting on surprisingly well in the confines of your relationship, too. The jealousy still rears its ugly head occasionally, but the two men are perfectly happy to push that aside and work together. Especially if it means hearing your pretty moans stifled by Johnny's lips as you cum on Simon's fingers.

I took like four melatonin before writing this, so sorry if it's nonsensical in parts!! It's also like not actually that smutty but!! Oh well!!

#cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod #simon riley cod #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #john soap mactavish #John soap mactavish x reader #John soap mactavish x f!reader #soapghost #poly 141 #ghost x reader x soap #ghost smut #soap smut #celestialwhoree #angies asks!

[t4t4tclethian]

The moment Joel realizes he has a crush on xB is, objectively, quite a funny one. He’d almost certainly be laughing about it if it had been anyone else. As it is, though, he’s hopping mad, extremely indignant, and deeply embarrassed about the whole thing. Who ever heard of a hitman falling for their mark? (Well, a lot of people have- it’s a whole romance cliche for a reason. But it wasn’t supposed to actually happen!)

(ao3 link)

————————————————

It had all started a few days earlier, when Joel had been hanging out with the other Magical Mountaineers in the breakroom. Gem and Impulse were poring over some papers together, Skizz was on a phone call in the corner, Mumbo was politely watching as Scar fumbled through some magic tricks, and Grian was sitting on the couch with Joel, listening to him rant about his failures at killing xB (he’d drawn the short straw). Everything was normal.

And then, when Joel paused his tirade to take a breath, Grian said those fatal words. “From the way you talk about this guy, Joel, it’s almost like you’ve got a crush on the mark!”

Which was ridiculous, of course! He does blummin’ not, thank you! His relationship with xB was a perfectly platonic contract killing, and Joel is a professional! He knows better than to fall for his target, and he indignantly tells Grian as much.

But, of course, Grian is Grian, and the second he senses he’s touched a nerve he doubles down. And so he did.

“Contract killing? Give me a break, Joel! Your contract on this guy expired ages ago, and you’re not the type to work for free.” Grian’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he continued to needle at Joel. “Admit it, there’s something else going on here, isn’t there?”

Joel spluttered, and took a deep breath as he glanced around the room. Fuck. Everyone had stopped what they were doing to listen in on him and Grian now. He had to say something to throw them off or he would never be able to live this conversation down.

“My contract might be done, but unlike some people I finish the things I start, thank you very much!”

Grian squawked in indignation, and as he did so the others chuckled and turned back to their own conversations, unfounded accusations of romance forgotten. Grian’s tendency to leave things unfinished was well-known, and something that every assassin at Magic Mountain had teased him over many times.

But that thought refused to leave his brain. It had wiggled its way in like a worm. Did he have a crush on xB? Is that why he kept coming back when any sane person would’ve just given it up already? And the answer, of course, is no. All of Joel’s actions here have perfectly reasonable and professional explanations.

————————————————————

Joel waits patiently on the rooftop across from Horse Head Farmer’s Market (which, despite the name, is actually a grocery store/money laundering scheme, not a farmer’s market), rifle at the ready, just as he has been for the past three and a half hours. You can’t rush a good sniping, after all, and xB’s schedule varies enough that Joel’s never quite sure when he’ll head out for lunch. (He’s pretty sure xB has done this specifically to spite Joel- the guy’s obsessed with him.)

Yes! Finally! xB steps out of the store, starts walking down the street, and- turns to look at Joel’s rooftop, makes direct eye contact with him, and gives him a friendly little wave, the infuriatingly sincere kind that makes Joel want to kill him even more. Dammit. He’s been caught. Also, wow, even from here Joel is a little wowed by how blue xB’s eyes are. Or maybe he’s just remembering how they look, because there’s no way Joel can actually see his eyes from here. They are definitely a very nice blue, though, and oh, huh, Joel realizes that Lizzie has blue eyes, too. Maybe he’s got a thing for blue-eyed people, and- OH SHIT RIGHT HE’S KILLING THIS GUY.

Joel fires, because even if he’s been discovered a vantage point is still a vantage point. Of course, xB somehow manages to not be in the bullet’s path, just like he always does, and then he gives Joel a disapproving look, like he’s actually disappointed Joel didn’t do a better job at trying to kill him.

God, he’s so cute, Joel’s brain has the audacity to think, like it’s trying to add insult to insult to injury. To Joel’s horror, he realizes in this moment that he’s had dozens, maybe even hundreds of thoughts like this, that just slipped through the cracks and went unnoticed.

Then, xB smiles at him again before heading on his way, and Joel falls off of the rooftop. He has time to think, Oh, I’m gonna kill Grian, as he plummets towards the ground. And then, everything goes dark, and he dies.

#hitman xbeans au #gumy writes! it’s a miracle! #this isn’t the end btw it’s just a good pausing point #hermitshipping #oh also btw in this au joel and lizzie are in an open relationship #bc i couldn’t write her out for the sake of yaoi. i just couldn’t. #so instead she has a thing with cleo and joel has a thing with xb and both of them know #but lizzie doesn’t wanna hear shit abt joel’s hitman activities

[vtoriacore]

✧ all eyes on you

note: this gotta be my fave vil piece ive ever written god damn i think this is me at my peak with writing. ill never write so well again and that sucks 💀 this is like 2.4k words and i swear half of it is vils outfit description /j someone also tell me why this is becoming a vil cantered blog LMAO

warning: slightly suggestive? bit of kissing at the end but nothing explicit! some jealousy that could be interpreted as slightly yandere/toxic but not really. gn!reader

synopsis: i cannot be bothered coming up with something elaborate after writing this. -> you're in a club. you dance w a random person. vil sees you. lights camera action bestie, the stage is yours to share and exit to the very end.

reblogs much appreciated, mwah 💞💓

He's already had too much Hennessy, he knew it. But looking at you through his translucent, violet sun glasses (perfectly matching his alluring eyes) he couldn't help but want to drink you in even more. It was no surprise you were here, in the same damn exclusive club as him, dancing with some nobody - no chemistry, no feelings attached.

He gripped the glass tighter, sharp lavender nails digging into his palm enough to leave marks. The sight was nothing short of infuriating, and he wanted to do nothing more but to rip you away from the leech vying for your attention when it should only be on him. Slamming the drink onto the table with a low growl, he stood up, all eyes immediately on him.

And why wouldn't they be? As always, he was the best dressed on the scene - the rich lilac, laced, mini slip-dress perfectly hugging his curves and off shoulder matching bolero cardigan accentuating his clavicles. And with every click of his six inch plum coloured t-strap d'orsay platforms (perfectly matching the beat of the current song) he grew more and more aware of the irony of the scene; virtually everyone was admiring his form, none of whom he would spare a single glance, but you.

Golden, diamond shaped earrings jangling as he walked (something he found rather irritating the more he focused on it), Vil tucked his purse closer to his side with a nonchalant flip of his platinum blonde locks. Normally, he'd feel very confident with his stature and mannerisms, but the way you still haven't graced him with even a single look, he felt it diminish. Oh, how he hated, down-right despised the effect you had on him! What right did you, so insignificant- ah no, that'd be too harsh considering he only ever silently sought out your approval and affection, but he'd digress. What right did you have making him feel this worthless, when he has never looked better? Never felt better?

The première of this new movie, Vil being the lead protagonist, was supposed to be the best fucking night of his life! He'd already strolled the red carpet as if he owned the event, knowing damn well it wasn't the truth because even then he was only seeking your eyes and finding them to be on anything but him. How could you disregard him so coldly, even now as he was approaching your form, more restless than ever?

"[Name], fancy seeing you here of all places," voice levelled, Vil addressed you directly; he wanted you to feel nervous under his gaze once you turned, it's what you deserve after causing him this much distress when it was supposed to be his big night. His official debut into the world of heroism.

"Ah, Schoenheit. Of course you'd run into me," he absolutely hated your wording, you were making him seem desparate - and although he was, you had no right even alluding to such thing!

"Disregarding that, it's quite rude not facing someone when they're speaking to you," he felt his nerves almost snap, seeing you turn around only to grace him with a teasing smirk, head tilted and eyes full of recognition.

"What, you miss me checking you out?" you licked your bottom lip, and it drove him almost as insane as your biting remark.

"I have the whole world focused on me, the last thing I'd need is you 'checking' me out," he rolled his eyes, shimmery gold eyeshadow accentuating the gesture.

"And here I thought we'd finally get some privacy so I could admire you," you laughed, and it brought him great satisfaction seeing the person behind you narrow their eyes in discontent. Without so much as a word, they slinked away with a small click of their tongue, something Vil would comment on in a later interview just out of spite. Was it petty? Maybe, but no one disrespects him and gets away with it - especially if they dare affiliate themselves with you.

"Is that what you were hoping for?" Vil raised a perfectly done eyebrow, crossing his arms in the process. He loved the way your eyes momentarily travelled to his chest before meeting his again.

"Sure, we can go with that if it soothes your ego," you looked to the left, observing the crowd watching the interaction with great interest before narrowing your eyes at the person who walked away from you. It irked him that you cared enough about that leech to even remember dancing with them, but your annoyance at them made it worth it - it was a sign you wouldn't seek them out at the very least!

"Interesting you'd say that, seeing your own just got shattered by . . . who was that again? One of the background characters who couldn't act to save their own life?" he knew his perfect, award winning smile would irritate you as always - it was both a great pleasure and a disdain seeing you vexxed by the accusation.

"You're the one who interrupted me, you know," you placed a hand on your hip, staring Vil down (well, up), and his eyes couldn't help but rake over the upper half of your body. He knew it was probably the alcohol doing most of the thinking, but coupled with the ultraviolet lighting , he just couldn't help but wonder how good you'd feel against him in that moment - away from prying eyes of course.

"I did you a favour dear, I assume you've seen them seizing up our director just then?" you merely shrugged at the assertion, instead focusing on your perfectly done nails.

"Yeah I figured they'd try him next, anything for the headlines speculating who they're fucking, no?" you smiled once you finished your unnecessary examination, looking at Vil once more. He couldn't help but let out a low chuckle at the accusation, so genuine it turned a few heads your direction once more. And oh did Vil absolutely relish the envious stares directed your way, knowing damn well none of them could take your place.

"Very bold statement, you do know it's going to make the news and affect my own reputation?" he leaned in, whispering directly into your ear and yet all you could focus on was the gold rimmed necklace with the initials of your first and last name. Once he pulled away, Vil simply smiled - the way you suddenly flushed up made him somewhat giddy. There was no way in hell you'd even direct your gaze on anything other than him for the rest of the night, and the countless rumours of this encounter coupled with the accessory were certainly going to keep you up at night.

"W-well . . . With what you're pulling right now, I could really say the same," he found your aggrevated stutter endearing, simply shrugging as if unaffected by anything you do when the contrary applied.

"You're acting as if it isn't going to be good publicity, with your role as the lead romantic interest, this could be good for both of us," Vil knew you couldn't disagree with this, watching as for once you tried coming up with something to dspute the statement, to no avail.

"Whatever, I've had too much to drink to deal with this," you sighed out, beginning to walk away from him. This of course, wouldn't do - you were once again making him seem as if he were the one that should be following after you.

"Right, goodnight [Name]," he nodded at your back, beginning to turn around only to stop short once he noticed you turn your head, eyes brimming with confusion; it was perfect, you didn't expect a single thing and fell straight for the bait!

" . . . Oh," you furrowed your eyebrows, so softly no one but him would catch on. He was so used to seeing and observing you that by now, Vil had perfectly memorised each and every one of your gestures and mannerisms. This, although something he prided himself on as he was quite perceptive, was simply maddening. His hyper-awareness of having you on his mind too much and for way too long didn't help this fact either.

"What is it?" he was going to get a straightforward answer from you for a change, and he realised you knew it from the little twitch of your lips. You certainly weren't an easy read, to the outsiders of course.

"Well, I just thought . . ." you were reluctant to voice your thoughts, coaxing him into softening his features as silent encouragement - something you picked up on after a few brief seconds.

"I just thought you might want to come somewhere more quiet, with me" you almost whispered, no doubt letting the alcohol affect some of your judgement. Under normal circumstances, Vil knew you'd probably make more sassy remarks but this? You weren't even attempting to make your tone seem insincere, face devoid of your usual show of defiance to anything he does. Such simple action, and yet it had his pulse quicken by too much of a large margin to be considered a normal reaction.

"On second thought, that seems like the perfect remedy for my oncoming headache," he let a faux smile overtake his face, walking closer and closer up to you, until your arms were brushing against each other. To anyone else, it'd simply seem as though the club was too full, but you both knew the intimacy that came with the action - Vil found it unnerving, just how warm it made his face feel when he's already kissed you countless times, both in practice and for the official filming of the scenes. But he did suppose this was something done out of one's volition, so who could realistically fault him for feeling this way?

"You know, absolutely no one uses the corner booths, even though they're all secluded from the main body of the building and perfect to hide away," you spoke up, rather shyly for someone of your disposition, but Vil found it absolutely delightful. Everything he'd done in an effort to get you to himself was finally paying off.

"Well, this is a club for a reason. Most people don't come here to sit around," he purposefully brushed his fingers against yours, the cold, no doubt expensive jewelled rings causing goosebumps to erupt all over your arm.

"Hah, surely they get tired at some point," you playfully rolled your eyes as the both of you walked through a dark archway, music slowly fading to a pleasant, muted buzz.

"Alcohol seems to have the opposite effect it's supposed to when you're clubbing, you'll come to learn soon enough," Vil flashed you a smirk, his cherry red lips catching your attention momentarily before you glanced away. He wondered if he should be happy at your sudden change of personality- was this the real you or just another elaborate show? Either way, he loved it.

"Are you implying something there, Schoenheit?" your teasing, accusatory remark made him click his tongue in a faux display of displeasure before he replied with his own, "Must you analyse every one of my statements?"

"It's not my fault they're usually loaded," your genuine giggle almost made him break the façade.

"How flattering you think me this complex," your smile dropped at that before you turned to fully face Vil, almost catching him off guard as he stopped to mirrror your action with intrigue painting his lilac irises.

"You are," barely two words and he could feel his breath hitch - and the worst part, he didn't even know why! Was it the lack of people around that made this moment feel so intimate? Or was it the courtesy of the dim room with its scarlet lighting making it seem like some romantic scene from a movie?

"You know . . . I still don't understand," you started to speak, voice low yet sincere. He felt himself drawing in a breath but before he could ask anything you spoke up yet again, "Am I overthinking it . . . ?"

"Overthinking what?" it was a miracle he could even speak clearly with how intently you were observing him. He knew he looked perfect, but with your gaze boring so deeply into him, he felt like you could see every flaw - he can't recall a time he felt so vulnerable.

"Ah . . . Nevermind. Ignore me, I wasn't thinking straight," your sudden shake of the head popped the bubble of tension you both felt. Vil felt his eyebrows furrow, a slight pout forming on his face.

"No. You will tell me," he asserted with a hardened resolve, coming ever closer to you as you backed up; his step forward, your step back. Rinse and repeat. Yet when your back had finally hit the ebony wall, you averted your gaze instead of saying anything.

"[Name], I'm serious, don't make me pry it out a different method," Vil leaned in closer to you, grabbing your chin gently to make you look right at him. He'd be damned if he let you slip away now, just when you were about to reveal everything.

"Are you serious, though?" your disappointed gaze had his heart momentarily shatter and before his emotions got the better of him, you once again murmured before he could even breathe, "about me . . .?"

His lips parted, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he felt speechless. Was there even a way for him to convey just how serious he was about you using words, using actions, using feelings alone? Vil could physically feel the pressure of the tension pushing down onto him, and his grip on you loosened.

"I-I see," you closed your eyes in defeat at the silence, and in that very moment he hated himself more than ever.

"I am. Believe me, I am so very serious, so very sure about you. Forgive my silence, I didn't expect to . . . " he trailed off, not thinking straight when you graced him with the sight of your brilliant eyes once more. The surprised flush of your cheeks made him feel slightly nervous; his feelings were out in the open, but would you reciprocate?

He didn't need to ponder the question too long, for in the next moment and without any hesitation, you were pulling him flush against you in an effort to connect your lips. He found himself tilting his head, slipping his sunglasses off with one hand before abandoning them and his purse both on the ground. It didn't matter they were both expensive and about to be ruined, not when the price of your feelings would be too disrespectful to compare to some lousy materialistic items he could replace later.

His hands found purchase on your waist, gently caressing the curvature in an effort to memorise every inch; the way you leaned into him more had him ignoring his burning lungs as they cried out for oxygen. With the way you felt against him, Vil only wanted to breathe you in; everything else be damned. He couldn't deny the disappointment when you had pulled away, but the sight of your burning face and lidded eyes made it worth breaking away anyway.

"I- . . . Damn, I'm sorry," your sudden nervous laugh caused a small smile to rise up on his own flushed face.

"You will be. No one gets away smudging my lipstick darling," you relaxed into Vil's arms at the remark, and he absolutely relished in the bliss of your content gaze and serene demeanor.

"And how do I pay back, hm?" you regained your confidence, but found it quickly simmer down once he spoke again, "Let me smudge yours even more."

You didn't hesitate to pull him back in for a second.

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst #twst vil x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit #twst vil #twst reader insert #im so normal about this man i swear please believe me #no delusions #anyways moving onto writing some rook stuff next there isn't enough content for that man

[thewayuarent]

SandRay, codependency and addiction

We can't say for sure what’s gonna happen to Ray and Sand, but I can almost physically feel how their relationship will develop into codependency.

For Ray this is understandable: people with one addiction are much more subject to others, and dependence on an individual is one of them. This is quite a common tendency in behavior, often unconscious, when a person using addiction as a coping mechanism falls into a relationships. Relationships of any kind - family, friendly, romantic, sexual - the main thing is not the nature of the relationship, the main thing is their presence. Ray, due to his addiction, is prone to compulsions, which is why it takes him so little time to fixate on Sand.

The fact that he is obviously lonely - and his loneliness is one of the reasons for his alcoholism - also has a huge impact and only aggravates the situation. But even without this, the fact that Sand is voluntarily on his "broken" side, he is ready to take care of him, sympathize with him and devote time to him is a jackpot.

When Sand offers him friendship, Ray immediately says that it is necessary to keep an eye on him on a permanent basis. And part of it looks like self-irony, but at the same time it's literally what he needs. He has found someone who replaces his need to forget himself in alcohol. In fact, he replaces alcohol with Sand, replaces one addiction with another. He’s still drinking of course but with every interaction with Sand he’s doing it less.

Sand on the other hand has what I call savior syndrome. First time he helps Ray because he is, well, a normal person with a certain level of social responsibility. Then he agrees to hang out with him for money. But then? Many people reads in his actions that he is already falling for Ray, but I doubt it very much. I see it as a mix of pity and being sorry for him. And that what makes him stay in the first place.

And it's a pretty safe combination in itself, but in the context of their relationship, it can become very complicated very fast. He’s saying it himself - sex is fine but you should be careful, don’t feel more (and oh they will). The more they become attached to each other, the more they will depend on their roles and the emotions that these roles offer them. And Sand, as a self-aware person, understands this perfectly. But he is also attracted to it. And it's not about "saving" Ray. But there is something about the fact that a person you barely know sees you as a solution. So exhausting, but so very attractive. Savior syndrome.

And at the same time, of all the main couples in the show at the moment, they are the only ones who are equal. Yes, Ray uses money for control, but Sand is well aware of this. They do not lie and don’t try to manipulate each other, they talk through aspects of their relationship and generally find them mutually beneficial. So yes, they are far from an example of a healthy relationship, but at least so far they are not completely fucked up.

It’s too early in the show to tell what happened later and how their situation will develop. But I am so interested in it. As someone who went through relationship with addicted person I am well aware about codependency and other issues. I am also know for a fact that in healthy communication, with self-awareness of both partners and support that type of relationship can work.

Do I believe that last part will be about Sand and Ray? Not really. At least not in a “fairy tale happy end” way. But Only Friens is a strong, difficult and beautiful story about people. If they choose to show struggles of addiction and how it can affect others I’m all here for it.

Will Ray fight it or choose to ignore it, will Sand be here for him or decide that it's not for him. Or maybe nothing about that and I just see personal stuff. Either way it would be interesting

#ofts #only friends #ofts meta #only friends the series #sandray #only friends ray #only friends sand #first kanaphan #khaotung thanawat #firstkhao #firstkhaotung

[pianocat939]

Hello I have request if you want to do it!

Yandere Rise Turtles that kidnapped the reader and the reader ignores them and stays quiet cause the reader pretty much trusted them and they broke their trust by kidnapping them.

Ah yes the "trust is broken" trope. Time to use all 6 of my braincells to write a theory that is totally impossible~

I know I shouldn't be saying this but I can't think of any ideas for rise rn so I would appreciate requests. Whenever I think of any I scrap it because I don't like how it sounds in the end haha.

Tw: trauma, anxiety, manipulation, delusions, arson (it's Mikey ok?), overprotective impulses, mentions of usage of medical drugs, unhealthy dependencies, I keep making Mikey a sociopath help

Yandere Turtles with Kidnapped MC who Doesn't Speak to them

Raph

I think he would have mixed feelings. The rational side of him perfectly understands why you would react this way; however, he also believes that you need to realize the purpose of his actions.

It's because he needs you so much! His brain can't comprehend being away from you for too long. He gets horrible anxiety if he's not able to cling onto you. So please understand! He's trying to get better but his thoughts just stab him mercilessly.

Despite his views, he doesn't try to pry too much. Sure, he might cry a little, and feel like a monster, but he doesn't talk more than needed. He wishes you answer, but if you need to go through such a state then so be it.

He'll still follow you around, as it's the bare minimum he can tolerate.

I, theoretically speaking, feel that anybody can tell he doesn't kidnap because of twisted/problematic views but rather the amount of trauma he's carried for so long. That being said, there is a way for MC to leave without having to escape.

A. Lot. Of. Therapy.

Consoling his problems is honestly the best way to go for Raph. He's willing to cooperate, and needs only help before he's back to normal. It'll take quite a bit of time, but it's better than being stuck in the lair for the rest of your life.

He apologizes a shit ton. Doesn't matter if you trust him or not, he apologizes.

"I'm sorry. I don't care whether you forgive me or not. I just want you to know that I regret everything."

Leo

Out of his brothers he's least likely to even try kidnapping.

The only case I can think of is if you lost trust for him due to his manipulation. Then he impulsively kidnaps you (it is way too fucking easy for him).

Once you go into your unresponsive state he'll pull the guilt tripping card. He believes if he continues to do so, your mind will trick you eventually. It hurts him that you don't want to answer voluntarily but it's nothing a little bit of psychology can't fix.

He acts like everything is fine while he waits. He'll talk to you, hug you, and anything else of that matter. It's not that he's delusional, rather he's trying to find ways to break you down.

There is a chance he'll lose his patience, and it can go two ways: 1. He breaks and tries to justify his actions. 2. He becomes delusional in a similar way Mikey Wazowski is.

I think there's equal chances for either possbilities.

To elaborate further for the two. When he breaks he'll go into a frenzy of sadness + frustration. He'll state that the reason why he even manipulated in the first place was because he felt useless and wanted you to rely on him for a lot of things. He's honest, and doesn't hide behind his mask. He'll interrogate why you don't depend on him. Let him take care of you, even for something as cutting up Warren Stone.

Now we get to talk about his developing of the "Mikey syndrome" we can call it.

His supposed mind games seem to backfire and work on him rather than you. Meaning, he forms a delusion that you still love and trust him after all the kidnapping and manipulation. He acts as if you guys are a normal couple. Which may be good for your case. He won't let you be independent for some things but you are able to leave the lair (with him by your side). No escaping though, he has his sword.

"I love you so much! I'm glad we understand each other so well."

D'Nello

Most likely to kidnap.

I think his reaction will result in a disaster. As I've written before he's an overprotective and controlling type; so it only makes sense that he declares your state of mind as an illness that he needs to take care of.

Try to ignore him all you want but this man can easily haul you into his lab, run through tests, and not acknowledge the obvious problem of the situation. He believes that you are in a fragile position so it'll only influence him more to "heal" you.

His methods of healing are both physical and mental. He'll check your brain's activity, find a pattern, and see if he can develop a drug that alters your mindset. On the mental counterpart, he talks on and on about psychology, and how to reset everything so that you can be "healthy" again.

If he notices you ignoring on purpose whenever he's speaking about your state of health then he'll snap at you until you listen. You don't have to talk, just be aware of the information leaking from him.

There is no chance of being totally released from his grasp. Not only does he have the advanced technology to ensure your chances of escape are nonexistent, but he is also unnegotiable. He's extremely lucid, but finds no wrong in his intentions as it is protecting someone from harm; when really it is him that is the harm.

Once you're stuck with him, you're fucked.

"Your mental state is nothing I can't fix. The brain can easily be assessed and its neurons can be altered with some drugs."

Mikey Mouse Club House

(I will never take his name seriously)

You are definitely going to be in a worse situation if you ignore Mikey. It's not that he's going to get angry or anything, he becomes more delusional.

He deludes himself into believing you're a god, so if you ignore him, it triggers him into thinking he needs to prove his worth before you give him the privilege of acknowledgment. Additionally, he'll find you even more divine.

He'll prove his worth in a multitude of ways; praising you, doing services, creating a literal book named "Ways to not Upset your God Lover <3". His chaos is terrifying, and it might be the best option to give a sentence to him occasionally otherwise he'll commit crimes far worse than you would ever think of.

If you don't, well let's just say...He'll burn people alive and leave a heart for every place he visits.

Here's one thing I want to express about Mikey. He also has a low chance of kidnapping. It may sound odd, but in my terms, I believe he thinks you're greater than him so it is his duty to follow every word you say. The reason I suppose he could kidnap you is that he wants to be closer.

If he does kidnap you, just say something like, "I want to go home" and he'll deliver you like he's a worker of Jeff Bezos. His mind is easy to figure out.

"Oh hi, baby! Don't mind the scorched-up wood here, just leaving a mark for the world to know my love for you~"

There are a few remains of the body left on the ground...

——————————————————

This was fun. I love analyses so much it's an addiction lmao

- Celina

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere rottmnt #yandere tmnt #tmnt #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2018 #raph #mikey #leo #donnie #Mikey wants to commit arson help

[always-andromeda]

Grim Grinning Ghosts || Timothy Klitz x Fem!Reader

Timothy Klitz x Fem!Reader

Word Count || 4,562

Summary || When Klitz gets confronted at a Halloween party, he tells a lie that spirals out of control. Perhaps this lie can convince him...maybe Halloween isn't so bad after all.

Author’s Note || someone tell me why I suddenly went so feral for this loser? actually, don't tell me. sometimes my brain just fixates on him for little moments and then we get filth like this. enjoy, y'all.

Warnings || smut (MDNI), handjob (male receiving), Klitz is a silly little loser, nothing else I can think of!

Timothy Klitz might not be afraid of ghosts. But he sure as hell is afraid of parties. High school parties, at that. He doesn't remember Halloween being nearly this terrifying when he was younger. Kids had always been mean, that was one thing he could depend on. As long as he wore some nerdy costume, he was sure that he'd face some sort of ridicule.

But high school added a whole new layer. He quickly discovered that when a freshman dresses up as Neo from the Matrix, the Seniors would not hesitate to throw cheese puffs at said scrawny freshman, in hopes that he'd be able to dodge them from a dozen different angles.

Sophomore year wasn't much better. Even though his mother had tailored Jedi robes that fit him perfectly, Klitz couldn't escape scattered comments from drunk upperclassmen that repeated the dreaded line, "I don't like sand. It's coarse and rough and irritating. And it gets everywhere!"

He almost gave up completely during Junior year. Klitz never did get his hat back that night; one of the seniors snatched it from off his head and it got passed around the whole night. That had been bad enough. Until he made a complete fool out of himself when he tripped over the comically large scarf, tumbling right into a table of refreshments. That old coat he wore that had once belonged to his grandfather still sat buried in the back of his closet, covered in nacho cheese stains he hadn't been able to get out. 

Yet, here he is, a fully grown Senior, mere months away from becoming a Yale man and still he's pushing his luck in a Ghostbusters jumpsuit. Proton pack in hand and particle accelerator backpack firmly strapped to his back, Timothy Klitz dares to challenge the odds. He's lived through plenty of mortifying Halloweens before; what's one more?

Where he fits in, Klitz never has a clue. Matt had practically tethered himself to Danielle's side on the living room couch, making sure that every guy at the party knows that the girl in the slutty cheetah costume is his. Klitz would've normally stuck with Eli, awkwardly sipping on drinks with him while watching the action. But Eli scampered off...somewhere. Klitz isn't sure about that either. Knowing him though, he probably saw a pair of tits and went running in that direction.

Holding his red Solo cup awkwardly, he sniffs the drink he'd picked up in the kitchen on his way outside for some air. Beer. Cheap beer. He scrunches his nose up and turns the cup to its side, dumping the liquid down onto the grass below him. It was more useful like that.

Only a few people were outside with him. A handful of guys played ball on the grass while a couple girls sat on the lounge chairs by the pool. One of them looks up in his direction and doesn't even try to hide her nasty smile or obnoxious cackle at his costume. She turns to one of her friends seated beside her and begins to whisper something to her.

This was such a mistake, he thinks, I hate this fucking holiday. Before he has a chance to see or hear what the girls have to say about him, he swirls around in the grass, getting ready to flee for his life. If he finds Eli in time, maybe he can pull him away so they can go home. Klitz suddenly isn't in the mood for any ghosts or ghouls of Halloweens that have since passed to come back to haunt him.

That's when he spots you. Sitting on the steps, directly underneath the yellow light bulb that illuminates the back porch is you. You, practically glowing and sparkling right in front of him. There aren't enough words in English to describe how his heart began to pound at the sight of you. A fluffy tulle skirt spills over your knees and you seem to be covered in some sort of iridescent lace that makes your limbs sparkle. Then there's wings; wings that stick out from behind you and frame your angelic figure. 

And then it hits him, you're an angel. You're an honest to god, real life angel right in front of him.

"Hey, beanpole, what the fuck are you staring at?"

Snapped back to reality, Klitz drops the cup in his hand and his head snaps toward the guy now walking towards him. He's dressed in a long, dark cloak and a hood pulled up over his head. But Klits can clearly see his expression, irritated and ready to raise his voice at a moment's notice.

This is it. Her boyfriend is the grim reaper and he's going to kill me.

Death gets closer and points at his chest, vaguely in the direction of where his heart is beating out of his chest under his ribcage. "Are you her boyfriend or something?"

Klitz, frozen in fear, is still able to realize the truth of the matter fairly easily. Death isn't your boyfriend. Death is just an asshole that thinks he can police what beanpoles like him get to do.

So Klitz puts on the strongest voice he can muster. "Yes. I-I-I am."

Death grins cruelly. "Let's see about that, shall we?"

Pounding heart sinking into the pit of his stomach, Klitz's face visibly falls too. The look of bewilderment that forms on him makes Death chuckle before turning to where you still sit on the porch, barely paying attention to how Klitz is now fighting for his life.

Death yells to you, "This beanpole over here says he's your boyfriend?" As accurate as the description is, it still stings more than Klitz would like it to.

Time seems to slow as he sees you stand for the first time, revealing all of your celestial beauty as you float across the lawn to where he lingers. Still, he waits for the same heinous cackle he heard from the girl by the pool to burst through them, shattering the illusion that you're an angel; his angel. He watches you contemplate, practically seeing how you're working the situation out in your head.

He's adorable. That's the first thought you have. Then there's the second: and pathetic. He looks like he's begging to be put out of his misery. He's a little nerd who bit off a little more than he could chew. You nearly giggle while studying his costume for a few seconds. The khaki jumpsuit hides very little of his lanky figure. He's a tall glass of nectar that you'd like to drink up with one sip. Even though you thought it would be cute, being an angel for the night, you felt like doing something terrible to this boy.

Klitz feels guilty for thinking it, but one thought runs through his head: Is this girl dumb? It wouldn't be the first time he came across a girl at his high school who was gorgeous but possessed the intellectual range of a rock. It doesn't matter though. Klitz is sure that even the dumbest girl alive would still reject him. No one would--

"Um, yeah? And what's the problem with that?" Cocking your head and furrowing your brow, your beautiful mouth had finally opened.

"Wait, so what you're saying is…is that this kid…" Death takes Klitz by the shoulder and shakes him. "This kid is your boyfriend?" 

You simply nod this time. Maybe she used all of her brain power with that last sentence. Klitz internally smacks himself, putting a firm cork on the negs at your expense. Dude, this girl just saved your ass from probably being pummeled. Now's not the time.

Death looks confused, eyeing you up and down as if he was giving you a moment to get to the punchline too. But it doesn't come. You smile. And Klitz feels lighter than air.

"Okay...if you say so. Have fun with him." laughs through his nose with a look of disgust before walking off towards the rest of his friends.

"Thanks!" you chirp. Before Klitz has a chance to say a word edgewise, you take a hold of his sweaty palm. Your voice lowers as your gaze shifts to him, "How about we go inside? Find somewhere to talk."

Bringing him back through the screen door at the porch, you lead him past drunk party goers that are scattered throughout the home. Klitz is dumbfounded and so are the few people lining the upstairs hallway. He knows immediately how ridiculous he must look being dragged around by this little angel, an angel who is obviously way out of his league.

Over and over again, he tells himself, this is just a dream. He's not actually at the Halloween party. It's the night before the party and he's lying in bed. His subconscious is simply crafting a worst case scenario just for him to experience. When a loser like him tries to fit in, the universe humbles them. How you plan to deliver that humbling, he can't even begin to guess.

You wiggle doorknobs as you walk down the upstairs hall, staying calm until you get to one that opens for you. You scowl when you realize that it's a bathroom. A tiny bathroom. The light is unflatteringly dim and there's barely enough room for much else besides the bare necessities: a shower, toilet, and a countertop with only a little space that isn't reserved for the sink.

You curse whoever designed this floor plan before sighing, "This'll do."

Klitz feels like he's a million miles away from his being when he questions "What will do?" But you don't grace him with any sort of answer.

Hopping up on the counter, you spread your legs and pat the space on the counter between them. You don't say it but he can hear your honeyed tone reverberating through his skull: come here.

Following the directions of the little voice, Klitz shuffles towards you, eyes averted. He has no clue where to focus them. Certainly not at the dip between your legs that hides beneath the tulle skirt. Certainly not at your chest which is close to eye level for him. And certainly not your eyes. Because he's sure that the second he stares into those sparkling eyes, they'll turn into a demonic crimson fire that scorches him. Already he believes you'd have the power to reduce him to ash.

You'd smile sweetly once more before stepping over the dusty pile of his remains, kicking his proton pack aside with a sneer. He never stood a chance in the first place.

So he stares at a random freckle that he finds on your skin. He keeps it at the front of his mind as he asks slowly, "Why did you lie?"

"About what? The boyfriend thing?"

"Yes," Klitz lowers his voice to a whisper, "The stupid boyfriend thing."

Your giggle plays like a melody. "I thought it would be funny."

That makes Klitz's head shoot up, blood coursing through his veins. You weren't dumb at all. You were just mean. You were playing with him the entire time. Which was probably far worse than if you'd just rejected him outright. He would've found some other way to recover and stroke his ego. With this...there was something different begging to be stroked.

It flusters him and has him sputtering for the words to express his frustration, "Y-you-- you thought it would be funny? To just humiliate me? To lie about that?"

Raising a finger, you start harshly, "Listen to me, kid, I'm not the one who lied first so you can hop off of your high horse and--"

Klitz cuts you off, hating the nasally whine in his voice, "I'm not a kid."

"You sure are acting like one," you cross your arms and lean back. Kiltz's eyes move to your chest, deliberately on display as you glare at him like he's a child. You're almost stunned that you got a nerd like him wrangled into a bathroom and he wasn't on you immediately. It baffles you entirely. But it intrigues you. As much as you don't like arguing with him, it gives you more to work on. You like his sense of pride and the little bit of ego that keeps him from faltering too much. It’s better when there’s tension, you reason with yourself, he’s not one of those assholes just dying to get a feel.

Eyes raising to finally meet yours, he states nervously, "I'm not a kid. I'm a...I am a grown man."

You try your best to hold back another laugh, not wanting to set him off again. You've learned your lesson, he won't be so easy. "Then what do I call you, grown man?" you test out a little tease.

It's a taunt that he takes lightly, thank goodness. "Klitz," then he whispers shamefully, "with a K."

For some reason, that doesn't make you laugh. More than anything else, it feels like a sign. One from your fellow angels above that encourages you to keep going. How often do you get a sign so direct?

"Really? Well, okay, Klitz with a K,” you venture a little further, “What if I didn't want what I said to be a lie?"

This startles him. The lie and the counter maneuver was nothing in comparison to this revelation. "What?"

"Now don't you play dumb on me. A geek like you should be able to read between the lines at least a tiny bit."

You're one to talk about playing dumb, he thinks to himself. In your own way, you do make him burn up. Only these are the flames of embarrassment. Who were you to imply that he was playing any sort of game? 

Still suspicious, he presses his luck. "Why wouldn't you want it to be a lie?"

"I will say...I do like a man in uniform." Hand grazing the front of his jumpsuit, sparks dance in his belly. You're so close to touching his skin that it drives him nuts. As your finger traces over one of the zipper pockets over his chest, he lets out a low, broken moan. He hardly even realizes that he made the sound until he catches your smile again, this time he thinks he sees it curl with malice.

Klitz panics. This is just another part of your game. You're still playing. "If you're just going to mess with me then I might as well go." He begins to back away. "Thanks for nothing."

Your offending hand floats down to rest on his hip. The little amount of pressure keeps him anchored in place in front of the counter. For a second he worries that the single touch will actually make him completely blow a gasket and collapse to the ground. It's all he thinks of. The small force it took to completely own him. If this is even half of what Matt feels when Danielle touches him, Klitz suddenly understands why he lets her keep him on a short leash. Klitz wouldn't ever want to stray from you either. He wants you on his shoulders all the time, the radiant angel from the back porch and the alluring devil that now sits before him.

He doesn't mean for it to happen, but he leans towards you. You seem to pull him in with some strange gravitational pull and suddenly...his face is closer to yours than it's ever been. So close that he can make out individual holographic glitter specks on your glossy lips. Maybe that's what made them so inviting in the first place. Your skirt rustles as you slide forward a little on the counter, pressing into his body more.

"Don't go." You plead gently, "I think you're really cute. And the proton pack...it's a nice touch."

He murmurs, "You know what a proton pack is?"

"Duh. Ghostbusters came out like what, twenty years ago? Of course I've seen it." Your half lidded eyes flicker to his lips.

He feels your thumb slowly run over his bottom lip. "Yeah, it's just that...most girls haven't--"

You cut him off and pull his bottom lip down, watching intently when it snaps back into place. "Don't finish that sentence."

"Okay..." he's hesitant to fully let go of his inhibitions as you lean in too. "But, wait, you're drunk..."

You pause. "I'm not drunk." Then spare a look in his eyes once more, "Are you?"

He blinks rapidly for a few seconds before remembering that he has to answer. "No..."

And then there you are once more, gaze flickering between his glazed over green eyes and his lips, parted slightly in a dopey expression. Like he can hardly believe he's survived this long. "Good." You conclude, before diving right into him.

No more words are left in his mouth anyways. Just saliva as he realizes that he'll probably savor the feeling of your lips on his for the rest of his life. Your mouth is almost sickly sweet with the taste of artificial strawberry but the stickiness of your gloss keeps him in place for a few seconds longer than he should.

Letting your hand entangle with the hair at the nape of his neck, he moans once more when you pull slightly; just enough to get him to open up and let your tongue weave its way in. You let him mewl and cry into your mouth as your hands roam. With your eyes closed, you feel around his chest for the zipper of the jumpsuit.

As soon as he feels the cool air of the bathroom hit his bare chest, Klitz struggles to pull away, taken aback by the boldness of your actions. He looks down at the pale, unblemished, and lanky chest that he's found fault in for practically his whole life. He'd expected to fill out a little more as he got older. Instead, he just got taller; he stretched out until he felt like a funhouse image of a pathetic, ugly boy.

But you look longingly at his smooth chest. Forget the smears of slightly tinted lip gloss that shines on his face from where you'd kissed him; you have new expanses of skin to admire.

Hand reaching out, your thumb rubs over one of his pink and pebbled nipples. He shivers like a decaying leaf in a fall breeze. You continue downwards and hook your hand around his waist. As you drink up his figure, you notice the soft pudge of his belly, rising and falling unsteadily with each jagged breath he takes. Just below that, you see something that makes your eyes go wide.

Under his stomach, you find the waistband of his stark white underwear. You're sure a guy like him probably bleaches the hell out of them; probably has the days monogrammed into the back so when he does the laundry every week, he knows if he's missing a pair. The assumption fills you with a renewed fondness when you notice the bulge beneath the waistband. And it's fucking huge.

Now you make an assumption that you are completely sure of: you're probably the first to touch him. Because he would be far cockier if he knew exactly what he was carrying in that dorky pair of underwear. And, god, you're glad that you're the first. You're glad that you've discovered him now when he's so new to this, so nervous that he's practically vibrating.

"Do you want me to touch you, sweet boy?" You coo gently.

The idea of someone else's hand on him...he has to stop himself from moaning again. His breath is heavy when he replies, "Do you want to touch me?"

And you answer like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Like the prospect would be a privilege for you. "Oh, Klitzy, I would love to touch you."

He's not sure what he had in mind before, but this seems good enough. He's hardly thinking about anything important when you reach down into his underwear, pushing them down just enough so that they stay underneath his balls, keeping him vulnerable to you. There's no doubts or second guesses or protests. Not even when he looks down and sees the tip of his cock, almost shamefully swollen, red, and already leaking fluid.

Seeing him fully exposed like this only endears you to him even more. You've known this guy for less than an hour and you wish he was above you. You wish that he was kissing your neck and wildly rutting into you, hitting all of the right spots without even trying.

You wish that his large hands would grope at your chest, using your flesh to brace himself for release. You want him raw and wild and untrained, spilling inside of you within seconds and leaving cum dripping down your thighs. You want him to stain the white tulle so that you can smile every time you catch a glimpse of it hung up in your closet. You want to remember the slap of his skin against yours and feel the ache between your legs all over again looking at it. You want all of it and more until you're brought back to the sight of his cock, bobbing impatiently.

As much as you want him, you won't make him fuck you in a dingy bathroom at a Halloween party. A proper angel wouldn't do that to the poor boy. But a proper angel wouldn't let him stand there whimpering either. His elbows begin to wobble nervously with his hands planted on either side of your body on the countertop. He's so patient. Just waiting for you to decide whether you'll have him or not.

So you clench your thighs together and ignore the way you throb when your hand fully wraps around his cock. It's easily the fullest thing about him, so large and thick and lined with intense veins that you can only picture it splitting you open. No. That's not happening right now, you assure yourself and push the image from your head.

Klitz focuses on your hand. There's nothing else he really can focus on. Head tilted back and eyes fluttering closed, he takes in the softness of your hand and the way you're so delicate with him. He only winces when your thumb rubs over the slit of his sensitive tip. The simple movement sends little shockwaves through his body. They only multiply when you use his pre to wet his cock and begin to slowly, gradually jerk him off.

The coil that twists in his belly is so tight that he's sure it'll break with even the smallest bit of pressure. You'd done something irreparable to him. Maybe it's the hit from early that makes him especially dizzy. He doesn't dwell on it though. There's no way he could when you nip at his neck and your tongue drags over his pulse. He can't help but get lost in the scent of your hair as you mark him up and the faint, languid smack of your hand stroking his slick cock. 

You hum softly by his ear before you open your mouth, "I want you to come when I tell you to, okay, baby?"

Your words are so soft, filled with a nauseating sappiness that makes him believe that your outfit isn't just a Halloween costume. You're really his guardian angel, here to give him a handjob to make up for all of his high school troubles. This was his reward for trying so hard year after year and persisting through the taunting and teasing: a pretty girl slowly stroking him and a climax threatening to send him completely over the edge.

He shakes his head desperately, hating that he has to wait but still willing to. He'd never been able to do this to himself anyways. Your hand was small enough that it rubbed over his length torturously; giving him little ebbs of pleasure but just falling short from bringing him completely to heaven.

"Good boy. Very good boy," you praise him. A beautiful array of whimpers and whines spill from his lips, marred and glittery from your kisses. You thought you had looked pretty when you'd done your makeup hours before, but the look of his took the cake. With his mouth hanging open and eyebrows furrowed and focused on trying not to meet his end too quickly, you think he looks gorgeous.

The thought strikes you then that he must be some sort of angel too to let you have him like this. He doesn't beg to be inside you, doesn't beg for you to let him finish, he does what he's told and he does it well, showing you how you've unraveled him entirely. It's a divine ability that you're liking more and more.

You give him some wiggle room and order softly, "Go ahead, make yourself finish." At the simple command he seems to curl around you, grasping at your ass now instead of the countertop. He holds onto you as his hips buck into your fisted hand. His thrusts are sloppy and have no sort of rhythm; just pure lust as he chases his mounting orgasm.

When he sobs and squeezes his eyes shut, that's how you know he's closer than ever, so close that his knuckles go white from how hard he clenches the fabric of your dress.

His teeth are gritted together when you murmur, "C'mon, baby, I know you can do it. I want you to cum now."

One, two, three more uneven pumps later and he bursts completely into your hand, depositing thick ribbons of spend that land on the fabric of your dress. You laugh breathily, getting exactly what you wanted from him. You already can't wait to shove the costume into the back of your closet and keep it as a token of this experience.

You tease, "Looks like an angel just earned its wings." He has no clue if you're talking about yourself or him. Either way, he's got no doubt it applies. You did a good deed and he feels over the moon. Maybe you'll both get into heaven now. At least he hopes you'll be there too. He's yet to sink his face into the bouncy clouds of your thighs, yet to hear your glorious sigh, and yet to taste the nectar of your fruits. God, he wanted all of it and more.

Until the gates to heaven close with a devastating slam. You slip his softening and spent cock right back into his underwear and zip the jumpsuit back up for him, leaving him utterly speechless at the nonchalance and swiftness of your form of aftercare.

Then, you hop off the counter and pat his chest one last time before giving him a chaste kiss on his cheek. There's no more lip gloss left for you to leave behind on him; he's almost upset about it. Almost.

Because right after you glide past him and waltz out the door, shutting it behind you, Klitz finally has a chance to look up at himself in the mirror. Flecks of sparkly glitter remain on him. He reaches up to tenderly feel the chapped skin of his lips. That's how he knows it was all real. He was touched by his guardian angel.

#danonation #paul dano #danocel #the girl next door #timothy klitz #timothy klitz x reader #timothy klitz x you #timothy klitz x y/n #timothy klitz smut #klitz x reader #klitz x you #klitz x y/n #˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚

[sea-salted-wolverine]

I'm new to hunting and your post about suppressors made me curious, if you don't mind divulging: what sort of cartridges do you guys use for all the stuff y'all hunt up there? Particularly moose? I'm definitely only hunting whitetail for a long time yet because I'm quite inexperienced and cartridges are so confusing.

Alright so I have good news and bad news.

Good news: Cartridges are not nearly as complicated as they seem.

Bad news: The organization of rifle and handgun cartridges is a fucking nightmare because they use Metric, Imperial, and i/another/i measuring system. All at the same time. On the same damn box. And that's why the whole thing seems complicated.

So let's start with a simple bit first, and we can work our way up to the complex nonsense.

So, your cartridge, also called a round, has four parts.

The bullet itself

The shell, also called a casing, also referred to as brass

The gunpowder

The primer

We're going to pretend that's a bulleted list and the rest is going under a readmore

General mechanics: trigger pull makes the firing pin hit the primer, which works more or less like one of those stomp rocks fireworks. The primer ignites the gunpowder which explodes and sends the bullet down the barrel of the gun. There are different ways to clear the action and reload, I'm going to assume you have a bolt action rifle, and that you know how that works.

So the shell is what defines the caliber of the cartridge and what gun it can go into. Some are measured in millimeters and some are measured in thousandths of an inch. Why? Because fuck you that's why. It is not even as simple as American companies sticking to Imperial and everyone else using metric because specific sizes have been standardized over the years and now everyone produces everything. Some shells are just old designs that have been modified, I think it's the 6.5 which is just a .308 cartridge that's been cut down.

(Remember that hyperfixation by association i mentioned earlier? Sunshineman took over the living room and is resizing .223 shells into 300 blackout. By hand.)

But the shell is just the bucket that holds everything together and fits in the chamber of the gun. The thing that controls the energy output of the gun is the amount of gunpowder and the amount of bullet you are using. If you have a tiny bullet and a lot of gunpowder that bullet will go very fast. But it doesn't have enough mass to really transfer that energy into whatever it hits.

Both the bullet and the gunpowder are measured in grains. It is a measurement of weight, and I don't know what it converts to, but I don't actually need to because gunpowder and bullets are only ever measured in grains. If you are buying bullets, like a normal human being, the grain listed on the box will be the weight of the bullet. The box will also have a muzzle velocity listed, the speed at which the bullet comes out of the gun. This is more useful information than just telling you how much gunpowder is in the round, because different casing shapes and bullet compositions will make that powder react differently.

I am going to talk about wound channels and bullet expansion now, so if you are squeamish this is the place to tap out.

So, a bullet hitting a living body does more than just poke a hole. The energy transferred to the tissue by the bullet creates a hydrostatic shock, basically a ripple through the water inside the cells. As you might imagine this is bad for the cells and turns them into goo. The goo is referred to as the bloodshot meat, and depending on your processing standards of the meat, it is generally discarded as inedible.

However, if the bullet remains perfectly intact and transfers no energy and only pokes a hole, unless you had a perfect shot on a vital organ, the animal will usually just walk away. This is why bullets are made out of lead and copper, anything harder would simply go through. The lead squishes or "mushrooms" and the copper which is just slightly harder, controls where the expansion of the bullet goes.

OK, so now that I've rambled on about cartridge mechanics for several paragraphs, I'm actually gonna answer your question. The cartridges I used to hunt vary wildly based on what I am hunting. General wisdom is You need a gun and a cartridge big enough for the biggest animal you would need to shoot. For me that is a grizzly bear which is not unlike shooting a bus if a bus had claws and teeth and a million years of predatory instinct and the ability to just sit on you and squish you to death if they got annoyed.

But I am usually not hunting bear. So usually what I do is I have a Glock 29, which is a sub compact 10 mil, in a chest holster and a rifle more suited to whatever I'm hunting. The glock honestly sucks to shoot and it is a break glass in case of emergency situation, because it is literally the least amount of gun for the maximum possible bullet.

I also have a 6.5 Creedmoor which is too small for bear or moose, but it is the only other gun that is actually mine and not borrowed from various family members. It works for caribou if I use a solid copper 140 grain bullet and it's great for varmint. My original idea for the gun was goat hunts but I can't convince anyone to go with me and I'm not dumb enough to try a solo hunt.

The 6.5 Creedmoor also has the virtue of being a very well marketed gun. The 6.5 swede has been around for 120 years and is not markedly different than the 6.5 Creedmoor, but a handful of years ago somebody got the right idea to market this thing as a target round for a high precision gun with a mild recoil. So now every bro who thinks he's Chris Kyle has one, which is annoying, but you can always find ammo for this thing because its so popular. It is a small and relatively underpowered gun, but I am a small person and as long as I am hunting small things I feel no need to drag a cannon with me over hill and dale.

As far as hunting for bear and moose go, the rounds used are .308 and .223. I'm sure other people use other things but that's what I'm used to. I would have to check on grain size, but I'm inclined to guess it's up around 200. Those are almost never solo hunts, simply because there's so much work associated with butchering and processing the animal, but also because you really want backup if things go sideways.

Oh, and I use a .22 for birds. And biathlon. That round is so tiny that the entire cartridge is the size of my pinky fingernail and the primer is built directly into the shell rather than being its own thing.

#wolverine warbles #ask answered #Firearms #Wow this got long #And I was intentionally cutting out a whole bunch

[codecicle]

Swag, tell me about your BG3 character, I’m curious about what you play !! :D

rubbing my hands together evil style. wampus you have no idea what you've unleashed

this is my bastard son: Samuel Alastine :D he goes by Sam but everyone calls him Sammy ^_^

his personality is like if you combined chip jrwi + sokka atla and made a really sappy fucked up love child. he's such a sarcastic little bitchboy at all times who loves being a bastard and charming his way into and out of situations (the consequences of his actions). he really focuses on the actions of the people and how they treat others as a sign of if he should trust them or not, when asked by Withers the question on how much a single human life was valued i had his answer READY lmao he was instantly responding with "it depends on the person's actions." he definitely has a weak-spot for kids though, he went through a rough childhood, but he doesn't consider it "important" and he trys to keep it as close to his chest as possible.

he's a tiefling sorcerer and i decided to make his sub-race a dragonborn tiefling so he could get the specific type of spells i wanted. i think my plan for progressing him is to focus my general skill-tree to be skewed towards how his personality would fight instead of whats most practical, and for him that definitely means wiping out multiple people in one flashy go with ZERO back-up plans. the amount of times he's had to get one of the other party member to revive him is insane, so he tends to leave that part out of the big flashy tales about his adventures. he loves showing off and bragging so much genuinely again think sokka atla just an absolute loser bastard who tries to take credit in a loving way. he would kill and die for his friends he just shit-talked as beneath him and side characters 5 seconds ago, and if someone else tries to also talk bad about them he's throwing hands and swinging on them in an instant with his whole 8 strength

speaking of which i skewed by skills so badly by putting the free +2 modifier to charisma to give him a 17 bro i coulda blanced his skills a little more and made all of his attacks do more than a grand total average of like. 2. maybe 3 if youre lucky but i DIDNT because im not a COWARD!!!!!!!!!!!!! so now he just flops over if he gets breathed at wrong or is out of spell slots like god intended. but at least he knows how to flirt GODBLESS

also also i definitely think his current party is going to remain his favorite and most trusted for the whole game. he's adventuring with Shadowheart, Wyll, and Astarion right now and they fit him so perfectly its actually insane. he loves how forward thinking Shadowheart is and is willing to follow her, and respects her for keeping her secrets while still letting him make fun of how closed off she is. (realizing now that my playful banter i try to give him might be the romancing options. but like. yeah he would try and do that she would never go for it though.) ((maybe)) and he absolutely adores Wyll's heroicism and looks up to him in a way, full of nothing but respect for how selflessly he acts and how he fights with confidence. he's an especially big fan of how he treats kids, knowing he never would have gotten that same kindness and it was nice to see the cycle be broken and someone make a change. and astarion he just wants to fuck LMAOOOO he loves the conversations they have and while astarion saying "oh yeah btw how do you wanna die when that worm in your brain spreads. like do you want poison or a knife" should normally be offputting thats EXACTLY his kinda humor and flirting. he said knife btw ^_^ purely because at the beginning where astarion jumped him he pinned him to the ground and held a knife to his throat and he really wants that to happen again but you didn't hear that from him. nuh uh.

anyway im having so much fun playing this game fully in character i see why the council did it that way now !! this is so silly goofy and fun i love going "oh wow any normal self respecting person would NOT say that to the random person they just met. i dont want to pick this option but youre not gonna believe this chief, its What My Character Would Do" every 5 fucking minutes for a new dialog this game is awesome im gonna go die in a combat now goodbye [vanishes into the woods] [the camera very clearly shows me hiding behind a tree thats too skinny for my body asking someone off screen if he's gone yet]

#i make yet anothet post just for me 👍 #we have mail :] #INFO DUMPPPPP MY BAD DUDE #THANK YOU FOR ASKING THOUGH im so insane about him #i love little bastards in media can you tell. i was so hyped to design him #genuinely hes just an amalgamation of all the things i love in this type of media. but cooler and My Writing/Character Edition #also im sick and dying like i am every christmas for some reason the curse is real so i have nothing better to do than scream on tumblr and #play this game >:DDDD #was gonna design him as one of my oc's but their stories don't fit dnd really well :(( maybe mutants and masterminds or some really really #fucked up version of coc

[yujinniw]

MIDNIGHT RAIN — KTR | 03-perfect image

2:11 am, it was cold and rainy surprisingly in the summer. I felt everything crushing down on me. If it was work, family, scandals? It was just too much, I and lots of others are not machines, we cannot do everything perfectly like they want us to. But the only thing I can do is smile and act as if nothing has ever happened, Even if I try there will be so many shits that I don't want other's to handle because of me.

So here I am, finding it amusing how such a big tourist attraction could feel so empty for once. But damn FOR ONCE MAN thank you rain! It was nice taking all that fresh air in, feeling the warm breeze hitting my skin was not too fun but hey it is the summer, unless you live in the UK or something.

I was just minding my own business until, I saw this dude coming closer to where I was. His hair was messy, kinda looked like he just got up from a nightmare, Yikes. But I couldn't see his face, he was wearing a mask. '....masks of course, the people with the hottest hair always wear a mask.' I thought to myself 'How am I supposed to know if you're really hot or not..'

'Should I go talk to him?' 'No chae miyeon, privacy.' I slapped myself to reality. But I think it was kinda too loud considering how he suddenly turned his head my direction. 'great. JUST GREAT.' All those thoughts were gone as soon as I heard a tired voice saying; "Are you okay?" I tilted my head up to looked at him 'SHIT. what am I supposed to reply with. Yea yea I'm fine, no you looked like you fell down from heaven itself. okay.... why was that even an option.'

"Yea, just thought there was a mosquito." WOW such a great answer congratulations. He just nodded before sitting down beside me 'FUCK HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO ACT MORE NORMAL NOW YOU'RE NEXT TO ME.' hold up. act I can act FOR FUCK SAKES.

"Why are you awake and up here so late." He asked me before I could... "Just needed some fresh air. what about you?" "Needed to clear my mind." same bitch, same. "If you don't mind me asking, what's your name?" He asked, which caught me off guard "Oh I do mind." WHAT THE HECK! NO NO THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT!! "Oh... sorry then" he responded while scratching the nape of his neck. Miyeon Chae, This is the result of your action take responsibility

"Depends on what you're going to do with them," "Keep it to yourself? Sell it on the black market. I don't know." I retorted back. Should I tell him my real name? should I lie? Decision making should not be anywhere near me.. BUT back to reality, He chuckled at my words and responded with "Yes... I will sell it on the black market. Now give me your name." "Woww such a creep..." OMG WHAT IF HE IS A CREEP.

"No actually, do you mind if I get your name?" Right... my name... "Miyeon, Chae Miyeon" I said holding my hand out to his "As in the Actor? Or a normal person" Hah.. this bitch. " Don't know whatever you think I guess." He laugh while shaking my hand. "Kim Taerae."

If I'm being honest, His hand was huge. Would probably have me flying from one slap with that hand. But then I looked back to what he said was his name, Kim Taerae. I looked up to meet his covered face. Gorgeous eyes babes. But the hair, face shaped and hand. did match the description of the ZB1 Kim Taerae.

Eyes widened when I come back to my senses that this gorgeous looking dude right here, who still has my hand in his. Could actually be Kim Taerae Zerobaseone.. I took my hand away " I should probably get going..." "It was nice meeting you." I said quickly before running to my car. yes I drove here...

"I'm done for."

sypnosis : One of the many famous actress was spotted at a park holding hands with their boyfriend, which was rumored to be Chae Miyeon, and Kim Taerae of Zerobaseone.

a/n: Really feeling like writing today woke up at 4 am and decided yk what I'm going to write the whole of chapter 3😖 ANYWAYSSS THEY MET or did they ykyk😶

donate to the poor | masterlist | ahah..

tag-list: @sparklingsjy, @xinxinyy,@wtfhyuck

#zerobasone smau #zb1 scenarios #zb1 smau #boys planet taerae #taerae scenarios #kim taerae #zb1 taerae #taerae x oc #taerae fluff #taerae smau #taerae drabbles #zerobaseone taerae #taerae imagines #zb1 fluff #zb1 imagines #zb1 x oc #zerobasoeone scenarios #zerobaseone fluff #zerobaseone social media au #zerobaseone x oc #zerobaseone #taerae #zhanghao #matthew #ricky #gyuvin

[archivalofsins]

Okay, with that out of the way. I'm at the halfway point of Caligula Effect 2 and as a filthy Caligula Effect player I will not take this slander anymore- Firstly, this game think it's fucking funny- HUH?!

Yamanaka think he's fucking funny pulling this shit directly after how dirty he narratively did Eiji Biwasaka- Forgiveness moving forward from the past letting people grow! Oh, we do that now?! What about that final destination death my guy? What about that? That karma shit everybody in the first go home club was talking all that good crap about.

Okay, fine pressing that hard to the side. That's not important anymore.

I mostly came here to say that it really seems like a lot of what good people are trying to find in the Milgram characters is like just legitimately the Caligula Effect 2 cast. To the point that it's like it can't be that because it's quite literally a character he's written before. The cop thing with Kazui um Shota is right fucking there. Shidou cool Docktor is right fucking there and I may be jumping the gun on that since I haven't finished his area. Yet, I feel super comfortable saying that anyhow.

It's just quite funny that many of the best interpretations of the characters the audience has had- The most benefit of the doubt filled interpretations or guesses about the reason behind their actions are legit just a description of a character from two. The most on the nose example of this being Mahiru and QP. Something that I don't even need to describe in writing one could just listen to this and get what I'm saying.

"This right here is how I truly am." "See look. I'll keep pursuing my paradise now. Oh, the pain- Pain. Damage: HIGH." - "I pretended to be a good girl, but really, I don't want to say "I'm ok"." "Tell me, oh tell me why, won’t you just accept me?"

Sure it's perfectly normal to create a favortie shape and love it. It's fine to create ones own personal interpretation of these characters and grow attached to them but- But! Will anyone try to even look past their own ego, their own desires for how they want these characters to be and just look at what's there before this ends. There's millions of possibilities so why just grow attached to the same old thing?

Because it's comfortable? Because it feels good? Because it's simple? This isn't meant to be simple. This is Milgram. if anyone wanted a simple truth something that could be wrapped up nice and neat it's right over there. Trying to force things into one mold for personal convenience isn't only harmful to others but oneself because people get it stuck in their head if this one thing can't be what they want then nothing can. When that simply isn't true.

Just because Milgram may not be that doesn't mean that thing doesn't exist out there somewhere. What happens when the character one has done this to no longer fits that mold? Would a person rather break themselves into bits trying to fit in or risk being broken standing out from being exactly who they are. What's a satisfying characterization? What makes a good character?

Is the way we an audienc can project on them? Relate to them? Is it how the story for them ends. Or is it that character being fully and unabashedly themselves? For all the good and bad that may cause. It's all subjective anyway. What makes a good character to one person will make a bad character to someone else.

This is what to me makes it super funny that a lot of the best assumptions people can give to the Milgram cast are so close to the stories of characters that came before them. By funny I mean super sad. Like how bad does a character need to be for the kindest interpretations of them to be in the shadow of characters the writer has made before.

That's so not interesting. What sort of writer wants to tell the same story over and over again? Wouldn't it be nice if everything could end up well. If all the milgram characters could learn, grow, and become better? Wouldn't it be nice if everyone could get along? Those sorts of questions. Those sorts of desires.

If that's a want one has then they may just enjoy Caligula Effect 2 more than they do Milgram. Because that just seems to be 2. From the looks of it Milgram isn't shaping up to be that sort of story. Though it definitely has a lot of Yamanaka's signature all over it and it's really great because through playing the games and looking at Milgram one has this nice experience of seeing a persons writing evolve over time.

Something that gives Milgram this rather unpredicatable feel that makes it even more entertaining. Also as it stands now I do still prefer Milgram to two in a lot of ways. Two is definitely not for everyone but the characters are still all pretty amazing (even though they're all grating as hell in their own ways). If I wasn't so sick to death of doing a shit ton of emotional labor I'd be enjoying it more. That was an issue I had with one as well.

So, I'll probably end up enjoying the experience more in hindsight like with that too. Definitely a difficult play though.

#gunsli rambles #milgram #caligula effect 2

[silvcrignis]

Claude Frollo Out of Context Sentence Starters || Part I/?

I have a divine mission to spread the Our Claude > Canon Frollo propaganda. What better way to do so than by making various quotes of his a sentence meme?

Clowning

 “What the FUCK is Bible Study & Chill?!”

 “Do you lot think the Booberry ghost is blue because he died by strangulation???

“I was absolutely high as shit last night. The Warwick Davis leprechaun himself could have started playing knick knack on my lung & I likely would not have noticed.”

 “HOW MANY OF YOU FUCKERS SAW ME EVERYDAY & KNEW I WAS GAY & DID NOT FUCKING SAY ANYTHING?!”

 “MA’M/SIR THAT IS FOUR MILLION DOLLAR MERCHANDISE DO NOT BREAK WHAT YOU CANNOT BUY!” 

 “...Why do you smell like Nesquik Strawberry Milk?” 

“The asshole you are trying to reach is not available. Please disconnect the call & do not try again.”

“Also the day you catch me living in a shack is the day to lock me up because that would mean I finally went clinical, pal."

“Quit talking about shoving things in my ass, you perverted old man/woman!” 

 “Well. You are BORING me right now. I cannot relate to your poor person problems.”

“If I could physically meet myself I would beat the shit out of him.” 

“…I am not sweet, __. Slander me again & I will take legal action.” 

“Her vagina could probably host a fucking bounce house for all of them.”

“Na fam. Delete it right now.”

“Nearly every single time you speak you bring this family great dishonour.”

 “There is only so much suffering I can endure.”

 “I FOUND A CAT!

 “You would end up being spilt worse than my firewood.

“You cannot do coke, that is illegal!

 “Down to fucking kill myself.”

 “If you are so insistent on sucking my cock this often you ought get some knee pads.”

“I like snow. It is a good way to hit your enemies with glass shards before they realise what is happening.”

 “Do you want bullshit or the truth?”

 “I am seconds away from a brain aneurysm, son.”

 “You would be a wonderful addition to someone’s mantle. In an urn!”

 “Shut the fuck up, old man!”

 “I do not use Faebook. Faebook is for losers & old people.”

 *sarcastically* “I went out to the woods. Pretended to be a forest nymph for a few hours.”

“That is… Not my problem.”

 “Did the vibrating make it better or worse, son?”

“New Jersey’s state fruit is blueberry, you fucking crackhead.”

“No no. Continue squabbling, bottoms.”

“Like what the fuck like I can say hoe if I want to! I am a hoe, I have the pass!” 

“I want no part in your cockles, __.”

“That is too many babies, Miss/Mister.”

“Ugh no.”

“Pull up then, Fuckboy.”

“Actually I was thinking about that one medieval meme about the leggings.” 

“You cannot cancel me. I am a bad bitch.” 

Being Fucking For Real

“… Unless… Oh fuck… I must be having another psychotic break.

“Would not be the first goddamn time I had a hallucination…”

“Those were the last words I ever said to my own son’s face… Then I never saw him again.”

“... Tell me you love me again? Please?”

“What the hell was I supposed to say to you that would not sound fucking weird & desperate?”

“You know, wills to read & a little brother to parent…”

“… It was always you but… You deserve someone normal.”

“I will be perfectly fine alone, the way I always am.”

*wryly* “Ah yes, because everyone keeps their promises, __.”

“I am going to beat his ass. The next time. I see him.”

“God, I know I do not deserve it but I love you so fucking much.”

#Sentence Starter Meme #Roleplay Meme #RP Meme #Sentence Starter Prompt #Roleplay Prompt #RP Prompt #x: Don't Be Craven! (Meme) #c: Claude #x: Scripted #((He's too quotable & its terrifying)) #((This is beautiful I love how he can be either a moron or bring me to tears))

[shotgungt]

TFV #3: Crusade

Attending the Tokyo Sports Puroresu Awards ceremony was supposed to be the easiest thing in the world. Exactly which part of the routine wasn’t easy to follow? Show up in a nice little suit, get into some conversations with your fellow wrestlers as if they mean something to you; then some photos for the press and at the end of the show, just accept your award and go home with increased prestige to your name. Simple as. You’d think that it would be nothing but a night of relaxation and validation of a year filled with grueling fights. No stakes, no action, zero chance of tomfoolery, right? Right?

Oh boy, was he wrong. The levels of fuckery that’d been reached were truly unprecedented.

Locked inside the janitor’s closet and handcuffed to someone else: It sounded like a new and badly written Hangover movie plot. Except this was no movie. He was perfectly sober and he assumed the same about the woman on the other side of the cuffs ... who stared at him and smiled like it was her birthday and Christmas at the same time.

Or maybe she was not sober at all. No sober woman would drag someone into a closet and handcuff herself to them. Then again, the execution was flawless. He had to give it to her, he was impressed. And it wasn’t like his current predicament was inescapable either. His desire to go for the obvious measures just happened to wane in comparison to his curiosity.

Stay put, The Foreigner told himself silently. Stay put and let her cook.

The road he’d followed so far came with its fair share of bumps and twists and turns before. He’d even gotten himself a trio of dumb idol slaves from the last time someone tried to throw a wrench in his plans. Surprise wasn’t exactly at the top of his list of emotions when it came to the events that were unfolding at the moment. As his harem grew, so did his actual wrestling career. More and more eyes were on him. He wouldn’t have been here in the first place if he wasn’t able to take the bad with the good.

Normally, he wouldn’t even consider a situation like this bad. But it was just so fucking annoying that Utami Hayashishita decided to pull this stunt during a national award ceremony. At least Mina had the common sense to arrange an empty warehouse beforehand.

“People must be looking for us,” he tried to reason with the Red Queen.

“That’s exactly why you should hurry, my hypno-lord,” Utami giggled, booping him on the nose as she teased him. “I don’t plan on uncuffing you with my free will still intact so you know what to do.”

The Foreigner found himself cringing at the nickname she’d used for him. He had his slaves call him plenty of things, ‘hypno-lord’ was not one of them and would never be one of them. Honestly, that was enough reason to enslave her right there and then but that would be playing right into her hands and he wasn’t sure what was her endgame here, so he refrained.

“Why?” he asked back, not an ounce of bafflement had left his voice.

“Ah, don’t panic. We should still have some time before they present the trophies,” Utami said in a cheerful tone. “That also means I can tell you all about ‘why’ if that means it will encourage you to do what you should’ve done already.”

“Fuck it, why not?” he said after a frustrated sigh escaped his lips. His body shifted a bit in the place as he tried to make himself comfortable in the claustrophobic room, as much as he could anyway. “Go on, please tell me what prompted you to do all of this.”

Utami gave him a look of pleasant surprise before letting out a giddy little giggle. She closed her eyes and turned her back, inadvertently causing the chain that bound the cuffs to yank on his wrist.

Then she started to recall and recount.

“It all started during my childhood. I come from a family of twelve and we all starred in a reality show about our big family, headlined by my father, ‘Big Daddy’ Kiyoshi Hayashishita. I always had to scratch and claw my way amongst my siblings to get my parents attention, even more so with the show going on. That made me quite the fighter an-”

“Hayashishita, what the fuck are you rambling about? Do you want me to be your hypnotist or your therapist? I can’t be both,” The Foreigner groaned. If Utami was going to tell all her life story then they’d be here for hours. “I already know about your family, anyone can go and read your biography. I’m more interested in the bits that actually are relevant to ... well, our situation.”

“Jeez, what a spoilsport,” the red-head pouted before conceding the point. “But okay, I’ll skip some parts, just for you, my sweet hunky ‘tist.”

The feeling of cringe did not dissipate, yet he still responded with a small nod anyway while Utami looked ready to abandon the dramatics and get on with the tale he wanted her to tell.

“The first time I saw you was after I had that time limit draw with Syuri…”

.......

Everything hurt. Bones, muscles, tendons, everything. Sixty minutes. A full fucking hour. Utami was in the ring for an hour, wrestling relentlessly in every single second of it. It would be unbelievable in any other circumstances but the pain and the soreness worked together to make sure she believed all of it. She carried the receipts all over her body. Today, she made history. She stood in the squared circle, faced one of the nastiest fighters to ever grace a wrestling ring, a former UFC alumna nonetheless. And she refused to go down. She didn’t fall, she didn’t lose. Utami Hayashishita was still the top dog in STARDOM. Still the world champion. Syuri couldn’t take that away from her.

Yet, Utami wasn’t happy in the slightest. Even though she entered the ring a champion and left a legend, she still wasn’t happy. Syuri couldn’t beat Utami, that much was true, but it also held up vice-versa. Utami didn’t lose … but she didn’t win either. That flimsy little detail was enough to tug at her after what should normally be a star-making performance. Apparently, this bother was noticeable enough for her to get called out for it.

“Utami, you’re so competitive.” Her ears picked up on the words of her best friend Saya Kamitani, appropriately nicknamed as Tall Saya.

Her length helped Utami greatly as she leaned on her for support after everything she had put her body through today.

“That competitiveness is what got you to the top,” Saya elaborated.

“Just don’t let this bring you down, okay?. You were amazing today. The old hag might’ve not gone down tonight, but she’s on the last limbs of her career anyway. She probably left everything she had in the ring today. But you’re in your prime, you have years of fuel left in the tank. Next time, you’re going to crush her and we’re going to laugh together at how needlessly sad you were when she managed to get a lucky draw against you.”

The Red Queen appreciated her kind words and she didn’t especially disagree with them either. Saya was a good friend but Utami was aware of Kamitani’s crush on her. It was a crush Saya utterly failed at hiding. It was also a crush that Utami wasn’t really sure she reciprociated. She even felt guilty at times for it, thinking that she was leading Saya on. However, the fighting prowess of the tall woman nearly matched hers and their chemistry in the ring was top notch. Saya was definitely the perfect tag team partner for The Red Queen. Her friendship was something she desperately wanted not to ruin. It was definitely not a conversation she looked forward to having; she wasn’t sure she would ever be ready to have.

“We can go and grab some drinks if you want to. We can definitely use some unwinding after such a long night, I mean. Even if you still want to sulk about your match, we can at least celebrate my tournament victory! What better way to celebrate than doing it together!” Saya offered with perky excitement in her tone.

Right, Saya had won her tournament today, right. That was actually a pretty big deal but Utami had completely forgotten about her friend’s victory until she brought it up a second ago.

“My father attended today’s show, actually. He’s going to come and pick me up, but thanks for the offer anyway, Saya. I’d love to do it later.” Utami answered that inquiry with a slight smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Saya responded with a frown that made Utami feel even worse. The frown didn't last long before it abdicated its place to a smile again.

“Oh, Big Daddy Hayashishita is here?” Saya asked, clearly intrigued by the prospect, though she easily let it go. “You must be very tired after wrestling for a freaking hour! Go get your rest, queen.”

After the tall girl helped Utami to the parking lot, she dropped her off, gently laying Utami’s bags next to her before taking her leave. With Kamitani gone, Utami Hayashishita found herself completely alone. Alone at the top, alone at the parking lot. It was in the middle of June but she felt chilly somehow.

She wished she hadn’t made up the lie about her father attending the show. Looking around, she looked for ways to go back to her hotel. Kamitani wasn’t the only friend Utami had from her wrestling group called Queen’s Quest, though she didn’t have a diversity of choices ready either. AZM was too young to drive, so she was out of the question immediately. Maybe Momo was still around? She was perfectly reliable when it came to things like this. Not to mention how she was probably the only acceptable option now that Utami had driven Saya away with a totally unnecessary lie. Her eyes continued to scan the area, occasionally interrupted by some people passing by her to congratulate her or whatever. In Utami’s eyes there was nothing to congratulate. She couldn’t find Momo, but she saw someone more interesting.

It was that bastard Syuri. She felt her blood boil again, as if staring at her face for a full hour wasn’t enough for a single day.

Leaning on a grey Hyundai, her rival was fully engaged in a conversation with a man. At first, Utami only focused on Syuri, who was smiling and laughing along. Needless to say, this only served to rejuvenate the anger Utami felt.

Such blatant disrespect. The older woman didn’t exactly have time on her side and this was probably one of the last shots she had at true greatness. Syuri couldn’t beat Utami, couldn’t get the job done, couldn’t win the championship belt that currently decorated Utami’s shoulders. Yet, instead of focusing or reflecting on her failure, she was freely flirting with a man as if none of that happened nor mattered to her? How dared she? Who gave her the right to act like that?

As angry as she felt, Utami ultimately decided against causing a scene by walking up to her and confronting her. She wasn’t that miserable. But still, it didn’t stop her from staying put and seething silently.

Eventually, Syuri’s fling opened the door to the grey Hyundai and the gleeful woman entered the car. The man closed the door behind the former UFC fighter. Then, his face turned and his gaze met Utami’s. His gaze was sharp, cutting, as if she was staring into Utami’s very soul. His stare only lasted a second before the man gave the redhead a knowing smile before cutting eye contact, turning back and entering the vehicle himself.

What had just happened? Utami didn’t know, but she could hear her own heartbeat as if it was the only sound in the crowded parking lot.

Loud, thumping, just as confused as she was.

.......

“Nothing was ever the same for me after that…” Utami concluded, her cheeks approaching shades of red that resembled the color of her dyed hair. It must’ve been a very powerful memory for her, The Foreigner concluded.

Who was he kidding? Of course it was, he wouldn’t be in this situation if she didn’t feel this strongly. The lack of oxygen in the closet must’ve been getting to him.

“So, you saw me smiling at you and felt weird about it, am I getting this right? Have you ever been attracted to people before? I’m not talking about love at first sight but something close to that maybe…”

He didn’t expect Utami to let out another giggle.

“Now, I thought you didn’t want to be my therapist,” she said, a finger reaching to boop him on the nose again.

“I haven’t hypnotized you yet so that choice is still up in the air.”

“If you don’t make the right choice then there’s no way we’re getting out of here before it’s too late, I’m afraid.”

In his mind, he was still trying to make sense of this game. It would be easy of him to say ‘fuck it’, coax Utami’s hot body and that devious little mind of hers with his aura, get her to happily free him and continue this evening as if nothing had happened. But the feeling that he was missing something continued to loom over, or maybe it was still nothing more than simple curiosity and he was trying to make it more complicated than it was. Either way, he needed more context, he needed to know more. For that, he had to keep listening to Utami’s stories.

There were worse ways to spend time, The Foreigner supposed.

“So, how did you end up getting back to your hotel that day? Did you call a taxi?” he asked, redirecting Utami to get back on topic.

Utami’s pleasant smile vanished after hearing that question. He probably knew why.

“No, I eventually rode back with her…” Utami answered, though it almost came like a whisper. The name was spit with poison.

“Momo.”

.......

The cold steel of the folded chair met her flesh again. Utami lost count after ten. She could ask all the questions. God knew she had lots of those questions. How long had Momo been planning this? How hard was it for that Starlight brat and the rest of the Oedo Tai scum to convince her to do this? Why? Why? Why?

Starlight Kid had been provoking Momo for a while, trying to get into her head about the leadership of Queen’s Quest. She continuously taunted Momo about how she wasn’t the best anymore, how she wasn’t even the leader of Queen’s Quest like her predecessor wanted her to be. As if the leadership meant anything in a group that always strived to be the best version of themselves, as if.

Did Momo simply fall for those words?

Maybe she was feeling inferior for quite a while. Momo Watanabe was there before all of them, before AZM, before Saya, before Utami. Momo was supposed to be the future ace, yet she couldn’t live up to her full potential. Her shortcomings were never really discussed in the group and maybe it was their negligence that caused Momo to explode like that. In the worst way possible.

Did she hate them? Utami, Saya or even AZM, who was her best friend? Did Momo hate all of them? Did she grow too resentful due to feeling left behind?

Utami wanted to ask, she wanted to scream.

But she did none of that. She knew asking wouldn’t change anything. She would only get laughed at and eat another chairshot to the head for her troubles.

And truth be told, it didn’t really matter anyway. Whatever reason Momo might’ve had, it hurt all the same.

Her unresponsive body was dragged into the corner, near Saya and AZM. They were stacked up like a pile of trash, in the background as Momo celebrated her actions with her new group. Her new friends.

Momo Watanabe hadn’t been Utami’s best friend, but she was a good one. She was reliable, resourceful, a mentor to her when she first entered Queen’s Quest. If it wasn’t for her help, Utami would’ve never become who she was today. Now, she was gone. A friend turned into a foe. A traitor.

Mourning for a friend was honestly more painful than the combined sting of all those chair shots. She laid there, so did what remained of her group. Her head fell to the side, her eyes met Saya’s and then they shifted to AZM’s crying ones.

Did Utami really have any guarantees that they wouldn’t do the same to her once conflicts between them started appearing? Could she trust them to not turn their backs on her when jealousy reared its ugly head? Just how easy would it be for her enemies to manipulate the people Utami considered friends after Momo just proved that doing so wouldn’t be the hardest thing in the world? How co-

She stopped. She took a deep breath.

Utami felt shitty for thinking that way. This was a collective trauma they were going through. Her thoughts shouldn’t have been flocking around the notions of growing some distance away from the friends she still had and building a wall around her emotions. In fact, they should’ve gone the opposite direction. AZM and Saya needed her more than ever. She was the world champion, the ace of STARDOM, the ace of Queen’s Quest. She would endure. She had to endure.

When Oedo Tai left the ring, it was Utami who got up first, helping Saya and AZM to get back. The audience applauded them as they made their way back to their locker room, trying to console the betrayed trio. Not surprisingly, the cheers and the applause accomplished absolutely nothing.

Not a single noise emerged from the trio of women as they sat together in their locker room. AZM’s tears had dried up, Saya’s head was in between her hands. As for Utami, she eventually grew tired of the silence and the TV remote nearby was the solution to that little problem. The small television hung in the corner of the room has opened and on the feed … Utami saw Donna Del Mondo. The trio of Maika, Himeka and Natsupoi, to be more specific. She had seen them win another match early in the day, not to mention Syuri dismantling three opponents one-by-one in under ten minutes.

What did the Donnas have that Queen’s Quest didn’t? The hierarchy in their ranks was definitely more definitive than Queen’s Quest’s … yet everything was going all sunshine and rainbows with them. They had all the reasons for conflicts, for frictions, for jealousy, for defections, yet fucking 'Kumbaya' was all they sang. Their leader Giulia was clearly being outshined on a regular basis by Syuri. Natsupoi was basically a Cosmic Angels member in a DDM coat of paint. With all those glaring issues, what did they have that kept them together?

While AZM and Saya kept their focus on grieving over Momo’s betrayal, Utami’s eyes remained fixated on the scene.

DDM won their match. Because of course they fucking did.

Her mind reverted back to that time she saw Syuri with the man in the parking lot. Utami later found him out to be one of the New Japan guys. Truth be told, she’d been kinda intrigued by him ever since that day. She’d been doing her research, watching his matches, closely following his media appearances. He was close with Syuri, close with the whole Donna Del Mondo, actually. She didn’t even know why she was so fixated on him. Surely his good looks and promising portfolio of wrestling matches didn’t warrant borderline stalker-ish behaviour from her, did they?

She didn’t answer her own question as she felt a set of arms around her, disrupting her inner monologue. Saya was hugging her. AZM followed suit. Tension in her body released as she released another deep breath. It was clear. They needed her.

But Utami needed something too. She just wasn’t sure what … or who.

.......

“I’m guessing you’d found it, otherwise we wouldn’t really be here together, would we?” The Foreigner asked, fully aware that he was probably asking the most rhetorical question in the history of rhetorical questions. Well, unless Utami planned to pull a legendary plot twist, that is.

An overly sweet nod accompanying an overly sweet smile was the overly sweet redhead’s answer. The master hypnotist used his non-cuffed hand to wipe small drops of sweat from his forehead.

“Are you ready to claim me now?” Utami asked, lightly wiggling in her place in anticipation. “I promise to make your wait worthwhile, Master.”

At least she'd dropped the embarrassing pet names. He looked at Utami’s cute little face before grabbing the chain that bound their cuffs together. She was cuffed to him as much as he was cuffed to her and The Foreigner used that fact to yank the chain, pulling Utami towards him. They were real close now.

A cool smirk was on his face now, his smooth lips just inches away from Utami’s quivering ones. She was prepared from the start to give herself to him. Was the man who owned not one but two whole groups in Utami’s workplace finally ready to start worming his way up into a third one?

He saw Utami close her eyes, her lips slowly pushing forward, ready for the kiss of her life.

“Continue the story,” he said before gently pushing her away from that intimate position. He didn’t put much of his aura into the command, almost next to none, but Utami already had the obedience part covered even without him pushing for it.

He was enjoying this.

“Though I probably know what comes next.” he continued, there was an event involving Utami very close in date to Momo Watanabe’s betrayal of Queen’s Quest. He remembered it well, for multiple reasons.

Utami had recovered from the shock by that point and continued the story as he wished.

.......

The curtains that separated the backstage area and the entrance ramp parted in the middle and out emerged The Red Queen. She was in front of her subjects now and the champion of STARDOM was ready to carry her symbol of excellence into the future and beyond. It’d barely passed the mark of one week after the Momo incident but Utami had no time to dwell on that. The pyrotechnics went off behind her, amplifying the greatness of her already-grandiose entrance, hyping the fans even more for the arrival of the greatest professional wrestler in the world. Utami Hayashishita had beaten many opponents, defended her title against many pretenders. This time was going to be no different, no matter the circumstances. She was the fucking Red Queen. It had to be her, it couldn’t be anyone else.

Utami subconsciously continued to swirl her signature rose in her hand while her eyes met her opponent from a distance. A very familiar opponent.

The old hag stared back. Syuri was still in the game, stronger than ever after winning the biggest tournament of the year, granting her another shot at Utami and her world championship belt. Their last meeting ended with much frustration for Utami. Now was the time to make up for that misstep.

Instead of entering the ring directly and starting the match immediately, Utami took her sweet-ass time, circling around the ring instead. Normally, she would’ve given her rose to a random member of the audience by now, preferably someone sitting close to the ramp instead of someone from the sections around the ring. One of the commentators was fair game too, but they also failed to receive her rose today. Utami had her target plain in sight.

DDM’s secret prince was in the audience, perfectly unaware of how he drove Utami crazy. But it was all okay, Utami was never handed anything in life, she always fought for it. Today, he would see first-hand just how much of a fluke the first match was on Syuri's behalf. His existence was giving the DDM girls extra confidence and resolve, that was the conclusion Utami had come to as the result of her research. How else could Syuri win the biggest tournament of the year?

But it was all okay, if Syuri was going to go hard because of his presence, then Utami would have to go extra hard to compensate for that. She never backed down from a challenge.

Her forbidden fruit would have to watch her destroy his beloved Syuri. But Utami already had plans to make it up to him. In fact, she stopped circling around the ring like a vulture, finally standing in front of a section of fans. Giving Syuri one last glance, she turned around and extended her arm. The old hag wanted to steal her title, her crown from her. She could try. Turnabout was always fair play. Utami was going to steal her man’s heart in return.

Her heart started pounding as she offered her rose to him, praying that he would take it. Three thousand people were watching her in the arena with even more people watching it online. She didn’t care. Only for that moment, nobody else existed in the arena. Not even Syuri. Just Utami and him. To her absolute joy, he accepted her rose after offering back the same assuring and warm smile he gave her in the parking lot. That’s how Utami knew that everything was going to be alright. She turned back, climbed the steel steps and was in the ring immediately after that.

Last time, they went over 60 minutes, with no winners. But this time, there was no time limit in the match, meaning that there had to be a winner. Utami was going to win it. The ‘no time limit’ stipulation be damned, she wasn’t even going to let it go to 60 minutes this time.

And she didn’t, because it only took 36 minutes.

For Syuri to beat her.

She lost. Utami had lost. When she opened her eyes again, Syuri was already given the championship belt that used to be hers.

The former champion tried to raise her head, her eyes looking for him. He was watching with a proud smile as Syuri celebrated with the title she took from her.

She closed her eyes again, waiting for it to be just a bad dream. She would open her eyes again and wake up again. Maybe the belt would still be with her. Maybe Momo would still be with them. Maybe. Just maybe.

But when she opened her eyes back again, the reality didn’t change. She had lost and she had to live with that now.

Fuck.

.......

The Foreigner didn’t know which was sweeter, reminiscing about Syuri's big victory or seeing Utami pout at his amusement of said reminiscence. If Utami knew the full details of what happened after the show, then there would be no way she could blame him for letting a big dumb smirk decorate his face.

Giulia, Maika, Himeka and ‘Poi all worshipping Syuri’s body with their hands and their mouths. The all-conquering champion was handed the privilege to command her friends for that day like her Master did every single day. The expensive royal suite, the heavenly king-sized bed. The greatest orgy ever. The world championship belt. God. And after god, The Foreigner.

“For what it’s worth…” he said, laying smugly in his place. “...I did keep the rose.”

“Y-you did?” Utami asked, blushing like a maiden.

“Why wouldn’t I? The world champion of the time had specifically given me a rose, not many men can claim the same thing.” he shrugged, using simple logic.

“Sure, the world champion of the time didn’t remain that for long after that, but still…” he then teased, dealing another blow to Utami after she had to recall that experience.

“You’re right, I don’t give my roses to many men.” Utami responded, finding herself some flat object to sit on. It was a miracle how nobody had interrupted them yet, honestly. “But you’re not ‘many men’.”

“Oh, on that much we agree.” He was pretty bold with his words. He had all the reasons to be.

Not many men got roses from a beautiful champion like Utami. Not many men had two different wrestling factions bound to his will and worshipping him like obedient slaves. Not many men at all. There was much to be proud of in being unique.

“And giving you the rose wasn’t the only thing I did to appease you.”

“Do you remember the interview you gave to the Tokyo Sports magazine back in February?” Utami asked, her uncuffed hand running through her hair.

.......

“We’re finally here!” Saya squealed as they stopped in front of the hairdresser shop.

Utami was glad she was finally getting to do something nice for Saya. She’d promised to take the taller girl to her hairdresser and having the week off meant that the plan could finally come to fruition.

Tall Saya pushed the glass door and the two ladies entered the shop. Utami’s hairstylist was busy with a customer at the moment but she still took the moment to greet the former champion and her best friend.

“Let’s sit down.” Utami offered as it became apparent that her hairdresser wouldn’t have her hands free for quite some time.

Some magazines laid on the table as they always did. Fashion, home architecture, music and Tokyo Sports. Saya took the last one and gave it a quizzical look, which didn’t escape Utami’s eye.

“I’m a regular here so the owner puts Tokyo Sports on the table in case I show up.” she explained to Saya, who had opened the magazine and was in the process of going through some pages arbitrarily.

Utami let her do that while she didn’t particularly try to pass time with magazines. Her mind was already occupied enough. Quite frankly, the storms that brewed within her head were the primary reason she was having this relaxing outing with Kamitani anyway. It was a shame her stylist still had some work to do with her current customer, prompting The Red Queen to wait until the owner of the shop gave her the perfect opportunity to dispel those thoughts.

“So … “ Saya dragged the word out. “What are you going to do with your hair today?”

“I don’t know, really. Maybe refresh the colour? I’m not planning drastic changes, we’re here more for you than me, honestly,” Utami replied.

“Oh, good to know,” her friend smiled back. “Your hair is lovely like this, Utami! I think long red locks suit you perfectly. I don’t think you should change it at all.”

A nervous giggle also escaped Kamitani’s lips. It was an awkward enough sound to push her face back to her magazine and shut up for a minute. Utami found it endearing, however, despite not feeling any more ready to talk about Saya’s ongoing crush on her.

“That’s just great…” Utami heard her break her silence. Saya was rolling her eyes as well while gently slapping the page she had been reading to indicate her displeasure with it.

“Another article about Syuri’s championship reign. If those journalists love her soooo much then they should just marry her and be done with it.”

Utami really wanted to ‘thank’ Saya for not making it easy to stop thinking about her recent shortcomings but she elected not to. She was better than that. Hayashishita just closed her eyes instead and let out a deep breath. Maybe the magazines weren’t such a bad idea…

“Oh, they also have an interview with that New Japan guy you just don’t shut up about.”

“Give me!” Utami said instantly, hand reaching for the magazine.

And now Saya was giving her a weird look.

“... for the Syuri article … !” Utami was the least convincing person in the world right now. “I-I want to ridicule it, I swear! She s-sucks, yeah, Syuri sucks! Totally!”

Saya handed her the magazine anyway, though not without rolling her eyes again with greater vitriol this time. Then, her hands hastily grabbed another magazine. As her friend did that, Utami realized something. Talking about him annoyed Saya a lot more than talking about Syuri. Which was pretty telling of how Utami talked about him, she supposed. Even though she tried to keep the secret nature of her feelings to a minimum, like always talking about his match quality or whatnot, she guessed Saya was smart enough to get all the necessary hints from her tone and all that.

But reading the interview with him took precedence over trying to reassure her friend. Kamitani was quick to flare and her anger was quick to die down. She would forget about it soon and the issue wasn’t even serious anyway. Certainly not serious enough to bother her reading time.

He just looked so ravishing in his photo that covered both the pages like a poster. She licked her lips on pure instinct before hoping Saya didn’t see it.

He had such a way with words. He gave such eloquent answers describing his thought process on staging a coup against his former group leader, resulting in him taking over as the new leader of the pack. His primary goal was to win the world championship on his own promotion. Such noble desires, she always took him for a man who had no problems just taking what he wanted. As far as she had watched him, he hadn’t proved her wrong. The girls of Donna Del Mondo had a weird relationship with him, a relationship apparently nobody but her really noticed. She didn’t make it a big fuss out of it by talking about it to others either. Utami was sure he’d appreciate his privacy.

Tokyo Sports usually asked off-topic questions to the athletes they interviewed as well with him being no exception to the rule. Her eyes became glued to the pages of the magazine as she read a question about his taste in women.

‘I don’t know how cliche I can get with this but I do like confident and strong girls. Why wouldn’t I? I’ll also admit that I have a soft spot for short hair on women, I don’t mean buzzcut or anything but something around the neck-length would be ideal.’

His answer did not elaborate more than that and after a few more passages, Utami had finished reading the article. She laid the Tokyo Sports magazine back on the table, in front of Kamitani in case she wanted to pick up from where she was left off. She raised her head again after that, only to see that the customer that kept her hairdresser busy was preparing to leave. Now available, the hairdresser soon walked up to them, ready to take them away from the magazines and the unspoken crush dramas.

“Alright, Utami, I will have you first.” she asked her first, prompting Utami to get up. “So, what do you want me to do with your hair today?”

As she approached the chair, Utami had a smile on her face and crystal clarity in her voice.

“I want to try something new today.”

.......

“We had a big fight because of that haircut, you know? Saya didn’t talk to me for a month after that day,” revealed Utami. Even though she tried to cover it with chuckles, The Foreigner did end up sensing the tiniest hint of bitterness in his stalker’s voice.

“And I don’t think our friendship really recovered from that. Sure, we still joke around. We still tag sometimes. But she’s nowhere near as close to me as she used to be.”

His response didn’t vocalize immediately. Instead, he wiggled his way an inch or so closer to Utami, catching her by total surprise as his hand reached out to brush some of her crimson hair behind her ear. It would be pretty redundant to mention the intense blush making its return on her cheeks. Both her hands closed around his almost on instinct. They felt so soft, her grip was almost non-existent. It was easy for him to draw his hand back. From her hands, at least, the cuffs were still on.

“I think short hair looks perfect on you, Utami.” the compliment was accompanied with a charming smile. He had grown way too comfortable with playing the role of the dashing prince.

“T-thank you.” she said, no, squealed was a better term for it. “Then I’d say the haircut was totally worth it.”

“Of course.”

It was too bad he couldn’t find any suitable watch to match with the suit. He had no idea how much time had passed since Utami dragged him here. Well, the story hadn’t reached its conclusion yet, so he figured some more time would be spent as well.

“You cut your hair and suddenly we are here, is that it?” He questioned. “Feels like you still haven’t told me the most important bits.”

“Yes,” Utami nodded as she slowly lowered her hands back. They had hung too long in the air after the warmth of his hand departed from her skin.

“My feelings for you were hard to put into words, honestly. I’d never felt anything like that before,” she admitted. “I did find some clarity eventually, even though it was from the most strange of sources.”

.......

Stalking came in different shapes and purposes. Utami wasn’t proud to admit that her portfolio on that subject was quite diverse. She was already adept at stalking the prime object of her burning desire. She had been collecting tapes, magazines, memorabilia and all sorts of things. Everything that she could own or decipher to figure him out and make her way into his heart would help. But that was all for love. The goal was about something she could share with him.

As the former world champion slithered her way out of the locker room, she reminded herself that this was for her and her only. She didn’t sneak her way into the only female-only gym in the city at goddamn 4 AM without telling anyone for no reason.

The Red Queen wanted her crown back. If that meant she would have to resort to some extreme methods like stalking Syuri then she would be a fool to think even twice about it. The current world champion had recently expressed in an interview that her routine before title matches included working out dead in the night where she would have a whole gym by herself. Utami was going to stalk, no, scout Syuri from a distance. She would take note of every little detail in Syuri’s workout so that she could use them against her rival and take her world title back.

The plan seemed foolproof until Utami realized that Syuri wasn’t there alone. Old hag didn’t mention a sparring partner in her interview. Weirder was the fact that the woman near her was a part of the STARDOM roster and she wasn’t even from DDM. What exactly was Unagi Sayaka of Cosmic Angels doing in the dead of the night with Syuri?

Before Utami’s mind could jump to all sorts of conclusions, the unlikely duo continued whatever conversation they’d had before. Even with the distance, Utami could hear them perfectly.

“You can’t do this to me!.” whined the Cosmic Angel, her arms crossed. “Being up this late seriously messes with my own routine! Do you know how much extra beauty sleep I will need to get after this?”

Syuri didn’t seem to care at all, her smirk was borderline predatory as she eyed Unagi up. This clarified absolutely nothing for Utami.

“Why didn’t you ask someone from your own team to help you train?” Unagi asked. That was one of the questions in Utami’s mind as well. One of many, in fact.

“Because I wanted to play with you instead.” Syuri answered casually. “And because I know you will obey me completely unlike them.”

Utami’s mind had to do a double take after that answer. Was she hearing Syuri correctly? O-obey? What was Syuri talking about? Were they in a relationship?

Was Syuri cheating on the man Utami spent months obsessing about … with Unagi? The world had gone insane, Utami was sure of it, nothing made sense in her life anymore.

The list of questions only expanded when she heard Syuri utter a nonsensical phrase and Unagi’s body went stiff for a moment before relaxing completely. The Cosmic Angel had a blank expression on her face, her head tilted slightly to her side. She totally looked like she was in a trance. Her eyes were blankly staring into the distance. Her arms were slack to the point of slightly oscillating from side to side. Utami was sure that the mindless looking woman would fall down with a single poke. Syuri’s gaze grew even more hungry, her hands immediately grabbing the straps of Sayaka’s sports bra before roughly pulling them down.

And it only escalated from there.

Utami felt hot.

Watching them kiss and fuck over the gym equipment. Gazing upon their glorious naked bodies. Hearing Syuri be called ‘Mistress’ by the woman who was being treated, quite frankly, like a sex slave.

Utami didn’t exactly know how she managed to not touch herself and make her presence known to the two lovers(?), but she knew it was quite the miraculous task. Maybe it was her devotion to him that repelled her from pleasuring herself to the possible sight of him getting cheated on. Maybe it was a backlog of battles and hatred she shared with Syuri. But ‘maybe’s were irrelevant.

This was fishy. Utami had massive doubts that this was just some kinky roleplay sex. Unagi might’ve been more proficient at the acting side of wrestling than she was at wrestling side, but no actress in the world had the acting chops to act as if she’d suddenly gone into a deep trance without breaking the character for a single second as every inch of their bodies were used sexually.

The redhead silently uttered the gibberish phrase Syuri used to initiate Unagi’s ‘trance’ to make sure if she still remembered it. She had to get to the bottom of this. As she repeated the phrase once more, Utami realized that she had the means to do so.

.......

“The very next show, I caught Unagi backstage alone. She was surprised to see me approach her. Before she could say anything however, I put her under by using her trigger phrase,” Utami explained. Her heart was beating faster and faster with each second, utterly unable to get a read on him. “I ordered her to tell me everything.”

“And she did,” he realized. His focus departed away from Utami as he pressed his fingertips together. He looked thoughtful.

His periods of silence usually meant that he wanted Utami to continue the story, but that was all there was to it. Utami was taken by his charms and after months of (not so) secretly and (not so) silently obsessing over him, she had grown to find that he could literally charm people to the point of brainwashing them. Everything had led her to this moment.

The moment was at hand for Utami. She had him where she wanted him. It would reflect badly on him in the eyes of the public if he were to not make it in time to humbly accept the award graciously bestowed upon him. Sure, that wouldn’t be the biggest scandal in the world, not even close. However, his career was still young and that meant even the smallest controversy would cause a big headache for the man she wanted more than anything else in the world.

She had accepted him completely. She had accepted his ‘abilities’. She had accepted his desires. She had even accepted the fact that she was going to share him with so many others including her biggest rival. Would she be asking for too much if she just wanted him to accept her love in return?

The silence really unnerved Utami. He should’ve jumped her by now.

“People must be looking for us,” she said, calling back to what he’d said before. Calling him to act as soon as possible. Calling him to claim her.

His head finally turned back to her again. He had a wide grin on his beautiful face, his piercing gaze sizing her up like a full course meal. Utami smiled back. A hopeful warmth had filled her body. Did this mean that he started to work his magic?

His free hand grabbed the chain binding them together and tugged on it, yanking her wrist with it in a rather harsh manner. He did it again and it hurt. Yet, Utami was happier than ever because his message was clear. He wanted her but he wasn’t going to go out his way to jump her. No, he wanted her to come to him instead. So, she did. On her hands and knees. Crawling to him to awaken further desire within the loins that claimed many of her colleagues.

When she got close enough, his arms reached and hugged her. Accepting her love. Utami let out a soft moan as she melted into his embrace. He smelled like a bouquet of roses. It felt so soft, so comfortable. So right.

She never wanted this to end and that made it way all too painful when he suddenly broke the hug. Before Utami could comprehend what was going on, his hands swiftly grabbed her by both shoulders. He turned her around and embraced her again from the back this time. His cuffed arm went around her and the long chain holding the cuffs together was now wrapped around Utami’s triceps, severely restricting the movement of both her upper arms.

Utami was confused and worried. Now it was him who had her dead to rights. As if the space he comfortably occupied in her head wasn’t enough, he had her physically restrained too with the help of the very same handcuffs she used against him. It felt humiliating … It felt hot. So hot. She’d been dealing with arousal the entire time they’d been locked together but this compromising position just turned that up to eleven. It was bad to the point where she had just realized that she’d been rubbing her ass on his crotch since the moment he turned her backwards.

This earned a chuckle from him … and an erection that pressed up against her behind. To know that she aroused him back only served to amplify her excitement.

“I think it’s time I tell you a little story of my own, Utami,” he said in a low tone, but it didn’t matter. His mouth was just an inch or two away from her ear. She could feel his breath on her skin, giving it pleasant little tingles.

She nodded, pretty much all she could do in her position. Her heart was going berserk inside her ribcage. She could barely take it anymore. The Red Queen was turned into a blushing and gushing little maiden in his hands.

“I’m really surprised though!” he said in an amused tone. “I thought you would’ve figured it all out after everything Unagi told you. Suppose not.”

Figure it out? Utami tried to turn her head backwards and try to look at his face, but a soft push from one of his palms blocked that. She was too weak to even attempt to fight. Despite her upper arms having very restricted mobility, the rest of her arms were free to move. He took advantage of that. Grabbing Utami’s free wrist with his own free hand, he gently guided the hand under her kimono … under her panties.

“Rub,” he commanded. Utami let out a squeal before immediately going to work. God, she needed this so bad. She needed him so bad.

“You’ve been hooked on me since the moment our eyes met at the parking lot.” he said with a laugh. “I was trying to charm you. It was the best I could do in that short time period and from that distance.”

He wanted her from the very beginning. It made sense. It made so much sense. He wanted her to want him. He planted the small seeds of desire and obsession within her and with time, they only grew and grew. This revelation only made her strokes more furious as the frequency of her moans increased.

“I really wanted to take my time with this one as well, my sweet Red Queen,” he teased. She leaned her head back to him. The ethereal sensation of his embrace slowly came back to her. He was doing it, he was turning his aura up. Utami heard enough details from Unagi to know that this was basically him ‘claiming’ his girls, making them his slaves. She kept on rubbing and rubbing. Her eyes rolled back into the head. She was close, so close…

“Stop,” he said.

No. He ordered. His voice had the conviction of a god. His power over her was so strong that it beat out her aching need for release. A gasping sound left her mouth as she shivered from stopping so abruptly.

Then, she nodded, acknowledging that she had and would obey an order. If this didn’t mean that she was properly being claimed, then Utami didn’t know what would. He was taking her, he was enslaving her. Her imagination was already running wild on what her new life as his slave would entail.

“You are not allowed to cum until I finish my story, understand?” he asked and she immediately nodded. “Good. Keep on edging for me, Utami.”

Yet another nod. Her hand found her needy pussy once more. She got to work once more.

“After that epic match you had with Syuri, everything kept going downhill for you, didn’t it?” he continued with the story. Her nods were almost automatic at this point. But she also couldn’t deny that he was right.

“You still think it was Starlight Kid who whispered all those sweet nothings into Momo’s ear? The girl was fiercely loyal to Queen’s Quest. Her change of mind was far from natural, if you know what I mean.”

Her eyes opened wide and her rubbing stopped for a second as she faced that realization. But then the warmth filled her again, as if a hand was pulling her back to the clouds. Softening her, surrounding her. Utami imagined him physically whispering into Momo’s ear as the traitor smiled and nodded, her mushy brain taking his words as heavenly gospel.

“How do you think Syuri won the tournament? How do you think she handed your ass to you and took your title? I trained her, I encouraged her, I made sure that beating you meant everything to her. You stood no chance against her, nobody could’ve beaten her on that night.”

She rubbed, she rubbed, she rubbed. She took everything in like a sponge and she rubbed. Fantasies continued to fill Utami’s dirty little mind. Him having Syuri work out naked in a gym, ordering her to do squats on his cock, promising to drown her in much love and affection if she were to beat Utami like yesterday’s trash. She rubbed and she stopped. She continued to rub again.

“What about poor little Saya Kamitani, the girl was your biggest simp, wasn’t she? And nowadays she barely even talks to you. Do I need to say why at this point?”

Oh fuck. Saya was in on it too. Her cute little face, devoid of any emotion but pure ecstasy, denouncing Utami in front of him as he gave Utami’s best friend all the pleasant sensations in the world before he made any move on Utami herself. The girl was in love with Utami, but his power was strong enough to turn her burning love into nothing but cold apathy. Fuck. She rubbed. She stopped. It was a real close call. She started again.

“Oh, and of course. The finale. You didn’t think it would be easy to notice another person in an empty gym at those hours? Syuri knew you were there from the very beginning. She texted me asking what she should do about it. I told her to trance Unagi and put on a show for you. I wanted them to let you in on the secret. I wanted to see what you would do with the information. You didn’t disappoint, making your way to me eventually.”

All his words, all these revelations, they were all dripped with honey, driving Utami crazier and crazier. Rub. Stop. Rub. Stop. Edge. Edge. Edge. She remembered all the details of their debauchery. She imagined how happy Syuri must’ve felt after getting permission from him to use Unagi as a sex doll just to bait Utami. Poor, helpless Sayaka probably had no clue what was going on. Then again, Utami’s been just as helpless and clueless as her all this time.

“Utami Hayashishita, you had everything. But I took it all from you and replaced them with nothing but me. Your title, Momo, Saya, everything. And now it’s time I take you too.”

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” she repeated, her voice hoarse. ”Please take me, please.”

He whispered into her ear.

“Cum.”

The orgasm shook Utami to her very core. For a moment, she forgot everything. For a moment, the world was nothing but blinding white. What followed was what felt like visions from the future. Her life as her Master’s obedient slave. Worshipping his divine body. Wearing a collar and a leash to signify her place as his pet. Fiercely making out with Syuri at his request, acting submissive to her fiercest rival because he wanted her to. Following his plans and using her own charms to gather more slaves for him. Being part of something greater.

When the afterglow of her orgasm has passed and she came back to her senses, she looked at him with the biggest smile one could ever muster.

“I am yours, Master. What can your humble slave do for you?”

“Remove the cuffs.”

“Yes, Master.”

Utami reached under her kimono once again. Instead of reaching down to touch herself once more, her hand snuck inside her bra. When it was back out again, she was holding a key. She used the key to uncuff her Master as he requested.

He rubbed his wrist for a moment before giving his new slave a kiss on the forehead. Utami giggled into the kiss, completely overjoyed by the events that had unfolded in this tiny janitor’s closet. He soon reached for the door.

“Can’t stay here forever, have an award to accept. And if I remember it right, you have one too. So, I wouldn’t be very late if I were you.”

Then, he was out of the room, leaving Utami alone in the closet. Alone with her own thoughts, the very same thoughts he owned.

Once upon a time, Utami Hayashishita had everything she could’ve ever wanted.

Then she lost them all and was left with nothing.

But now, she had everything once more.

.......

.......

.......

”Fuck, that was so hot,” were the first words that left Giulia’s mouth once her Master had finished recalling the story of how he recruited the mighty Utami Hayashishita as her newest slave-sister.

“I know you’re quite fond of using your influence on other people to enslave a certain target…” she recalled. He’d done the exact same thing to Giulia too. Maika, Syuri, Himeka, Natsupoi. They were all brainwashed by Master before her and they all worked together to bring Giulia under. She cherished the memories dearly.

“But did you really do all of that? Seems a bit excessive.” she said as she playfully snugged to him in the bed they shared. She’d won the bed privileges by winning her last match and she was going to use it to full extent. “How come I haven't seen Watanabe or Kamitani with you? I feel like you would’ve told us if you snatched those two, and well, you would've used them alongside us. I mean, is someone really hypnotized by you if I hadn't been ordered to eat them out?”

Giulia didn’t expect Master to let out a hearty chuckle to that, but his joy was her joy, so she laughed as well.

“Nah, I totally made the whole master plan thing up on the spot.”

Now Giulia understood why he seemed so amused.

“You can’t be serious!”

“Look, it doesn’t matter if I actually orchestrated all those events and enslaved her friends or not. The precious Red Queen believes that I did, and that’s all that matters. She believes that everything she’s lost is because of me and that means she can’t get them back without my approval. In her mind, everything loops back to me. I am all there is for my dearest Utami.”

“Master, that’s horrible!” Giulia said before another laugh. A playful jab landed on his chest. “And so hot.”

“Yes, it is,” he confirmed. “But Giulia, I thought you knew better than that..”

Giulia’s genuine smile turned into an awkward one. She rubbed the back of her head. Did she displease her Master somehow?

“I’d rather have you sucking my cock than trying to poke holes in my fabricated master plans.”

She nodded profusely as she swiftly moved to give him another blowjob. He caressed her platinum locks as she did so.

“Such a good girl,” he purred. “And if you feel disappointed that I didn’t end up enslaving Momo or Saya, well … all in due time.”

“All in due time," he repeated.

Then he closed his eyes and let pleasure overtake him once more. There would be only one way to go from here: Upwards.

#hypnostory #hypnomanip

[slayerfruit]

What about a file that's seemingly very innocuous, but holds a virus inside? A particularly subtle one, too.

Like, idk. Say you decide to cook something. Presuming we are talking about your robosona, you are likely cooking for someone else, although it is possible you've installed a module that lets you taste and digest things. (The whole digestion system is pretty clunky though. If I was a robot, I'd probably just plug into the wall. Read a nice book and stim. I mean obviously I'd want to have a module for it somewhere else.) Whatever it is, you need recipes. Say you find a link/are given a datachip/download and use limewire, and you now have what appears to be a perfectly good recipebook on your hands.

Not your hands. Database. Ugh.

Anyway. Unbeknown to you obtaining this file has compromised a system file. You haven't noticed because you already scanned the file and came up with nothing, and you are now busy focusing on reading it. (Your processors are capable of multitasking, but you are currently also listening to a audiostream and checking tripper, which is way better than some old earth social media and currently gets daily updates. You also are really pleased with the new coating you got for your plating, and are spending a considerable amount of CPU admiring it. You are thus really not paying any attention.) The infected system file very calmly, on the next time it would normally gain cycles, infects another system file. There is no payload. All around, maybe one or two bits are changing at a time. But it's spreading. On the bright side, you've just found the best recipe for making cookies. You pull the ingredients out right away, and get to work.

Over the next 30 minutes or so, your systems become effectively fully compromised. You'd think you would notice something off, but again: There is seemingly no payload. Your systems are too screwed to succeed on security scans at this point anyways, even if you thought to scan. You put the cookies in the oven.

Now. We can diverge a little in thought, if preferred. (Because I'm the one writing, I'll be the one telling the thoughts. However, you may pretend I stopped writing if you'd prefer. Sometimes you read a story, go "What??? That's wack. I'm going back 3 lines, and I'm going to spend 10 minutes visualizing a different outcome." And it's fine.) The thing is, this virus doesn't do much more than slightly tweak it's victims actions. All it really does is form new hobbies, and it's so subtle about it the people around you probably wouldn't even recognize you are altered at all. For one, your new baking hobby is innocuous. Making gingersnaps and banana bread and red velvet cake... It's all just clearly something you are having fun doing. (You are having fun. You aren't quite sure why you are having as much fun as you are... but this is good! You've been meaning to pick up something physical to do. The last time you went for a jog the ground kinda shattered? It turns out your frame is really heavy... but being virtually indestructible was too good to pass up!)

For the other... well, none of the people around you are really complaining that much when you start getting more cuddly. Or when you start bringing them the fruits of your hobby. Because... really. What were you going to do with all the extra goods, other than throw them away? That would just be waistful. (Hm? No, I'm pretty sure that's correct.) Everyone around you is so thin anyways...

Anyways, if we skip ahead a little: All of the people you know (and some of the people you kinda-sorta know, and some of the people around them too, now that they think about it but what were they supposed to say when a friend asked if they wanted to share these treats some robot friend of theirs brought them? No? Lesson: Free stuff is hard to turn down.) are now fat as fuck. You aren't pushy about it (Unless deep down you already wanted to be. This virus is playing the long game!) but people really have less self control than they would prefer, generally. You put a plate of cookies before someone and say "Oh, you can have some of these if you want. I made a bunch of them!" And it's like, "Damn. My weight is getting pretty high... but I'm not going to be a poor guest/friend. And I am kinda peckish..." this is how most people end up eating 3(+Z. where Z is the number of times you've come by.) plates of cookies.

Meanwhile, you and everyone else have now adjusted fully. It would almost be more weird if you realized you had a virus in you the whole time. I mean, what kind of virus would just make you take up a hobby? It's way more believable that you just like baking!

That must be it.

...Anyway, your oven just went off. You should probably go get that before the muffins burn.

GHOUGXVGHFMLXCVHMKLXCHMKL this is So So good i love this so much,, just about as much as these cookies!! shoved a bit more brown sugar in them this time and that did the trick, i think they're perfect now :] just. ignore the fact that i had to get another bag of brown sugar. NoIDidntEatHalfOfTheLastBagWhatAreYouTalkingAbout

#fanwriting #seriously tho thank u so much for this..

[sybil-scribble]

Bugsnax HC time everyone!

So Ya'll got my art yesterday, now you get very self indulgent Hcs about each character, with a very specific theme. Affection and Comfort, specifically how each of the Grumps do it and how good they are with it. This was based on a post I saw of someone going over how they'd cuddle every Grumpus and I though it was so fucking cute I wanted to share my own thoughts! - Going in order of when you meet them

Filbo

Very much open to affection, You can hug him at random and he barely is surprised, just smiling and calling you out very gently with just "Hi Buddy! Good to see ya!" He's very okay with it.

Very much gives affection to anyone if you tell him. He always asks before he hugs someone or touches them, doesn't wanna make anyone feel uncomfortable.

Pretty good all around, will give you a big hug if he sees your feeling bad, get you things, talk to you, he does his best.

If he's feeling bad, he is gonna hide the hell out of it. Even if its obvious he's not feeling good he will do everything to try and seem his normal self...but one hug at that point and he's not letting go.

My lovely boy, I would just give him such a big hug, cover him in a blanket and just, squish him, he deserves cuddles and hugs all the time!

Wambus

Doesn't care much for affection like that, if you hug him, he'll let ya the first time before telling you downright he doesn't do hugs.

Although he's a man of action instead of words, he also doesn't really give any affection out to anyone, save for Triffany. He may give a lighthearted punch to the shoulder, but that's about it.

There is the exception if he knows someone is hurting like that. Wambus is horrible with comforting words, so best he can offer is a kind of side hug/arm over your shoulder and letting you go through your feelings. If its a really bad time, he will pull you in more, he's not one for comforting, but if you need it, he'll do his best.

Wambus gets pretty snappy when he's not feeling good, it's not by choice, it's how he was raised, anger kinda springs up on him. He's quick to apologize when he realizes it, sometimes.

Sir, you're the ultimate Dad friend.

Beffica

Beff isn't against hugs, but she doesn't like to give them herself, She'd call you Squeeb if you do, but she'll never tell you not to hug her.

Doesn't give out affection, just accepts it

If you're hurt or sad, she'll make an exception to hug you. She's not as good with people as she thinks, and at best will try and just tell you why you shouldn't be sad at the moment, what good is happening and all that.

If Beff isn't in a good mood, she doesn't leave her home, and will lock the door.

Triffany

She accepts hugs, knows people like hugs and doesn't mind it so long as you tell her first.

Only gives affection to her husband normally, unless atention is needed. Is a big hugger normally.

If someone is hurt she is pushed into Mom friend mode. She'll give you a hug and try to help the situation, however best she can. That is if she notices...if she's doing her studying or preoccupied in general she may overlook you for a bit until something happens to get her attention. She'd tell you stories of her work to give you something to focus on and calm down with.

If Triffany isn't feeling good she'll just spend her day closer to Wambus, other than that she's just a tad lower energy.

Cromdo

I don't have much on Cromdo, he'd likely joke about having to charge you if you hug him too much.

Doesn't really give hugs, will at the very least give you some encouraging words if he can.

Is actually kinda good at comforting people, mostly giving you someone to vent to and clear your head.

Cromdo usually stays quiet when he's not feeling his 100%.

Wiggle

Is perfectly fine with hugs, either giving them or receiving them. Somedays she may just say she isn't feeling like being touched and that will be it until she says she's okay again.

If your hurt, she'll sit by you and try to see what's wrong, if she can, she'll sing for you to try and help out.

If Wiggle isn't feeling good, you'll tell, she isn't singing for one, and if she is, she's not happy with what she's singing about.

Gramble

He won't tell you know, but he doesn't know how to accept it really.

Doesn't hug normally, doesn't want to touch people unless necessary.

he knows how it feels to feel that bad and doesn't want people to feel bad too. Depending on how close you are he'll likely end up coming close to give you a hug, if that doesn't work, he'll put his hat on you to get your attention.

If he's feeling bad, he'd like to be alone so he can get over his sadness, maybe stay with his little ones to calm down. I you try to comfort him, he genuinely may start crying.

If he's sleepwalking, don't hug him, he will latch on and then suddenly you have to sleep in the Barn with him.

My lovely, I wanna give him so much love and hugs, like Filbo but he's small, I can carry him.

Snorpy

Tell him first, he will scream and likely slap you without thinking otherwise, his nerves get him too paranoid for surprises.

Will give a hug if you ask him, but it's quick.

Very bad at comforting people, he couldn't tell he was in a relationship for years you think he can pick up and deal with emotions?

If he feels bad, he goes to Chandlo, that's all

Chandlo

He accepts hugs! But be careful he gives very tight hugs, could hurt if he wasn't so good with his strength.

If your feeling bad, he'll hug ya and hang out to talk, maybe see if you wanna go work out with him, get you moving and focused to see if that helps.

If Chandlo is down, he stays with Snorpy.

Floofty

will bite, like actually, he'll hurt you, don't hug him. If you're close, he may allow things like you pass out on him, but nothing further.

does not comfort you, he's trying to learn about Grumpus interactions, but he's not qualified for comforting yet.

hard to tell when he's down or not, let him be and things are fine.

Shelda

Will ask you not to, but won't mind if you must

She's actually happy to give hugs, but keeps her professionalism as "Shelda" so she won't.

Comforting from her comes in words, helping you talk your problems out and figure out how to help.

If she feels bad, depending she may drop the Shelda act and just sleep out the day.

Eggabell

Accepts hugs and will give them if wanted, she's friendly like that before and after Liz's disappearance...mostly

if your down, she tries to help, for one she makes sure your not sick or injured, then will sit with you and hang out.

If she's feeling bad she'll read and ask to eb alone, but will accept a hug.

Lizbert

hugs you first, big hugger, very physical and happy.

if you manage to surprise her with a hug she picks you up and laughs.

tries her best when people are down, gives a really good motivational speech and then will chill out with everyone.

if she's down, she needs Eggabell, that's the best you can do to help.

IN conclusion......

I wrote all of this for Filbo, Wambus, and Gramble specifically, and didn't wanna leave out the others. In reality i wanted to focus on the fact that I wanna hug and cuddle Filbo and Gramble and just, Wambus is very good pick two and...

this is cringe but I am cringe and I am free I will simp for the muppets thank you very much.

#bugsnax #bugsnax headcanon #filbo fiddlepie #wambus troubleham #beffica winklesnoot #triffany lottablog #cromdo face #wiggle wigglebottom #gramble gigglefunny #snorpy fizzlebean #chandlo funkbun #floofty fizzlebean #shelda woolbag #eggabell batternugget #lizbert megafig #Bugsnax Brainrot #I'm simping for some muppets okay #fight me #Sybil's Scibbles

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

Running on Empty

(Trigger Warnings: descriptions of hunger pangs/cravings, cramped/crowded space, mentions of eating, cannibalism, talk of murder, implications of illegal business, implied death/murder, strong language. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

(My beloved scrungly EgoPat is back, and this time, we get to see his cravings in action. This little drabble was inspired by one lovely Knife Anon, who has worked wonders for my validation. If you want to learn more about Caliban, go here. If you’d like to learn more about the mob he and Murdock work for, go here. Murdock/Murderplier belongs to the Markiplier Cinematic Universe, but if you’re interested in my personal headcanons on him, go here. And, last but certainly not least, to learn more about R.D., go here.)

Somewhere among the Cove Port Inlets, a cannibal was trapped in a department store.

Well, not literally, but he certainly felt trapped. The elevator car he was currently riding in would’ve been cramped even without all the other people he was having to share the space with.

Most would assume that cannibals and crowded areas didn’t mix well together, and for the most part, they’d be right.

But in Caliban’s case, that normally wasn’t too much of a problem.

Caliban prided himself on being responsible. The authorities around here were generally pretty useless, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be careful with his habits. He’d organized a whole agenda just to keep his cravings in check. He typically didn’t have to worry about his urges unless he knew it was safe to give in to them.

That was actually why he and Murdock had started working together so long ago; too many disappearances happening in short succession of one another would cause suspicion in the community. Therefore, the hitman also had a schedule to stick to, which perfectly aligned with the cannibal’s meal-planning.

Or, at least, it USUALLY did.

Murdock had contacted him earlier, had promised to deliver a dead body in a few hours. That delivery was the reason Caliban had made this shopping trip in the first place. He’d been running low on some of his favorite herbs and spices, and he’d been eager to use them. He’d been excitedly waiting to make some deviled spleen with a side of simmered tongue (he’d also entertained the idea of putting all other edible organs into a stew for later).  

But NOOOOOOOO, no, no, no! It just COULDN’T be that easy!

Caliban grimaced at his cellphone, at the most recent exchange of his and Murdock’s encrypted messages.

So, I’ve got some bad news, Murdock had texted while Caliban had been paying for his new seasonings.

What, did you have to use a last-minute explosive on the target? Caliban had responded. If so, just bring some of the least-charred pieces. You know I’m not too picky.

Murdock had replied, No, I couldn’t have afforded to do something like that. And even if you were a picky eater, it wouldn’t matter.

Caliban asked, What’s that supposed to mean? He hadn’t gotten an immediate response, so after leaving the kitchen supply area, he’d tried again: Doc? What exactly are you saying right now?

A few more moments of silence passed after that, but by then, Caliban had finally connected the dots. (It’d only taken him so long because he didn’t want what he’d predicted to be true.)

You let the target get away, didn’t you? He’d eventually inquired. And boy howdy, did that get a quick reply.

I didn’t LET him get away! Due to the lack of things like facial expression and body language, reading someone’s emotions via text was usually pretty difficult. Not in this case, since Murdock took great pride in his work. Either the informants got something wrong in their analysis, or every potential witness in a hundred mile radius just randomly decided to come out of the fucking woodwork. Whichever the case, it’s not MY fault that the asshole’s still alive!

Something tells me you’re still gonna drink from that special mug, Caliban had texted, thinking of Murdock’s favorite coffee cup, which proclaimed IT’S ONLY MURDER IF THEY FIND A BODY—OTHERWISE IT’S JUST A MISSING PERSON in a bold, bright red font. Good job getting my hopes up.

Look, you’re not the only person losing out because of this. I’M gonna have to get reprimanded sooner or later. YOU are just gonna have to be a little more patient for once.

“For once,” huh? This wasn’t the first time Murdock had failed to kill a target. Granted, the other times were few and far between. Plus, Caliban’s frustration had been a bit easier to deal with since his accomplice hadn’t decided to just wait until the last minute to let him know.

It seemed like today really was just one of those days.

I’ve already got a couple more hits lined up. You’ll be getting some new grub in a month or so. Think about that before you complain next time. It was evident that Murdock had been trying to calm himself. You couldn’t be a killer-for-hire if you couldn’t keep an even head on your shoulders. (That was one of the stranger aspects of this line of work.) In other words: BITE ME.  

The hasty addition of “figuratively” never came. So, Caliban had decided to be cheeky. Is that a challenge?

Murdock was strong and an experienced fighter, but the fact that Caliban worked more on the body-disposal side of the spectrum nowadays did not mean he was a stranger to violence. The former still had scars on his knuckles from his and the latter’s very first altercation.

(Murdock had decked Caliban in the face, but he’d obviously never fought someone who would respond to being punched by grabbing hold of their assailant’s wrist and chomping down on said assailant’s hand. Just like how Caliban had never bitten into someone whose blood had a kick so similar to cinnamon. . .or capsaicin, maybe.) 

That message remained unanswered. Murdock had been infuriatingly prudent enough to disable the Read receipts that would’ve come with his text messages.

Caliban stuffed his phone into his pocket, trying to back even further into the corner he’d already claimed.

His head told him that Murdock was an accomplished killer; it was highly unlikely that he’d lose his future target. Nobody was perfect, and that definitely applied to murderers.

His stomach argued that Murdock was an irresponsible moron and it was his fault that the rest of Caliban’s day was now going to suck.

All in all, there were pretty good points on either side of the coin.

Caliban pursed his lips as a rumbling, pinching, gnawing sensation manifested in the pit of his belly. His shoulders slumped as his frustration invited some good ol’ fashioned dread to keep it company.

Oh, right. The urges. . .

Caliban took a deep breath and reminded himself that a single corpse was still a practical treasure-trove of flesh and organs. And since it didn’t take an Einstein to properly store meat, Caliban’s pantry was never empty. Even though the fresh-is-always-best rule applied to more than just seafood.

He had some human remains at home.

He could still appease his appetite without Murdock’s help.

He just. Had to. Get out. Of this. Damn. Elevator.  

Since he couldn’t afford to stare at the people he was trapped with, Caliban found himself gazing at the little signs adorning the space around the elevator’s door and buttons. The most prominent of these signs displayed a simple drawing of a stick-figure walking down a staircase, with a bright orange flame at the top of the stairs.

In spite of his frustration, Caliban raised an eyebrow at this. People seriously still didn’t know how dangerous it was to use an elevator in the event of a fire?

He thought of how easily the ventilation shaft would go through the Chimney Effect, thought of how quickly the metal framework of the car would heat up. Thought of how smoke could make meat more tender via breaking down the collagen inside. . .thought of how the color of flesh would shift from bright pinkish-red to differing shades of brown the longer it roasted. . .thought of how fat would eventually liquify as more heat was applied—

GgglRRRRkkkk…

The sound instantly snapped Caliban back into reality. That, and the feeling of something warm around his mouth that definitely hadn’t been there before. Blinking, Caliban realized that his face had subconsciously shifted into an open smile. This, in turn, had allowed a few drops of saliva to escape his lips. He could practically feel the blood rushing under his skin as he raised a hand to wipe at his mouth with his thumb.

The initial disappointment Caliban had felt was mostly gone (although stress, impatience, and some mild-but-kind-of-quickly-growing panic had taken its place, which wasn’t a very positive development). But Caliban’s stomach didn’t really know how to give a damn about that. What it did know how to do was to make itself seem to be squirming of its own accord inside Caliban’s abdomen.

Which didn’t feel pleasant. At all.

He didn’t dare look at the elevator’s other passengers, despite knowing that a few had definitely turned their heads to glance at him. What did they expect him to do? Apologize? For something that he had no control over? Were these really the types who got offended whenever they saw another person in discomfort?

Of course they were. Hell, they probably didn’t even know what discomfort actually felt like. Caliban hadn’t needed much time to analyze their clothing, their demeanors, their freshly-purchased goods. Even if he hadn’t been so skilled in observation, it would’ve been easy to guess that the people he was trapped with were the fortunate kind.

They probably led happy little stress-free lives, probably ate more than three multiple-course meals a day. They likely hadn’t grown up with the constant threat of food being withheld from them. They could be categorized under the human equivalent of Free-Range.

GwwwuuuOOOOOORRRBL. . .

Caliban could’ve sworn his intestines had just twitched. He closed his eyes and sighed through his nose. He chewed at the inside of his cheek; his teeth felt just a tad too sharp.

He didn’t even know the person responsible for this building’s architecture—for the idiotic amount of time this elevator apparently took for each trip—and he still desperately wanted to butcher them and caramelize their kidneys.

___

After what sincerely felt like a few days since he’d finally gotten out of the department store, Caliban parked by one of many curbs in the downtown area. He was shaking as he exited his car and headed for the entrance to his house.

His hunger had been steadily getting worse and worse for the duration of the drive (because why the hell would it have gotten better?). 

The very millisecond the front door was securely closed and locked behind him, Caliban’s facade got the hell out of Dodge. He sprinted across the house to the hidden door in his closet, and it was a legitimate miracle that he didn’t trip on his way down the passageway to his subway tunnel security office turned macabre kitchen/dining room combo.

He ripped the refrigerator open, and there it was: a portion of flesh he’d sliced from the thigh of Murdock’s latest target, hanging from a small meat hook he’d attached to the top shelf.

This particular appetizer had already been cured—he’d put it through both a dry rub and a few brine injections—and hanging was a great way to improve the flavor via letting natural enzymes break down the tissues.

It was a good thing Caliban always had the foresight to prepare his food ahead of time, because right now he was at the point where it wouldn’t have mattered if the meat was raw or not. The only thing that mattered was that. He. ATE.

Caliban wrenched the morsel off, leaving the meat hook to sway to and fro as he leaned against the wall, opened wide, and sank his teeth into the flesh.

MRGH-GRK

The meat was, unsurprisingly, cold. It had the expected metallic tang, but the texture was a bit more serumy than it probably should’ve been. The umami was there, but it definitely would’ve been better if the muscle had spent some time in a broiling pan.

But Caliban wasn’t in the mind to care about that.

He shook his head from side to side as he tore a chunk free.

HRUCKH-HKUNGH

He chewed furiously—the meat was tender in a way that managed to be wrong and so damn delicious at the same time. He could barely even feel how liquid dribbled out of his maw and down his chin. The first bite felt heavy in his throat, seeming to linger. Somehow, Caliban didn’t notice. He continued to rip the muscle apart, his pulse ringing in his ears all the while.

There was nothing but flavor and greed and impatience and joy.

He wasn’t sure how long it really took, but after what seemed like just a meager thirty seconds, half of the meat was gone. He wasn’t completely satisfied, of course, but his stomach wasn’t aching or growling anymore; instead, it was concentrating on what he’d just devoured. For the first time all day, he finally, finally felt comfortable. Relieved.

“Afternoon snack, Cal?” A familiar voice called from across the room.

Caliban flinched, then slowly turned his head to discover R.D., who was standing at the foot of the hidden staircase with her arms crossed. She tilted her head at him, her expression a mixture of understanding, concern, and amusement.

“I guess,” Caliban sighed. “Although you could probably call it stress-eating, too.”

R.D. wandered closer, nodding. “Probably.”

She fished her phone out of her pocket and tapped at the screen, then held it for her husband to see. She’d set her camera to self-portrait mode, which gave Caliban a perfect view of the dark red smudges splattered around his lips and cheeks, with even more running down his chin. A few spots marred the dark blue fabric of his button-down’s collar.

Caliban offered a sheepish smile in response, showing off his red-tinged teeth, his silver canine-cap gleaming. He walked over to the block kitchen island, grabbing a napkin from one of the drawers and cleaning up his face.

“You could’ve texted me on your way back,” R.D. said softly. “I could’ve prepared that for you; then you would’ve enjoyed it a bit more.”

Caliban shook his head. “I’m not going to disrupt your focus when I should’ve just been smart enough to eat something before I left. Your projects are more important.”

(She may not have been wearing any of her protective gear, but he knew full well that it hadn’t been long since she’d returned from the hidden-in-plain-sight laboratory of a warehouse on the other side of town.)

R.D. pursed her lips at this. “I didn’t have very much stuff lined up for today. Just some organization and a few basic chemical tests.”

“Still would’ve been inconvenient for you to rush back home because of me.” Caliban brought out a cutting board and his beloved cleaver, quickly chopping up his half-eaten morsel into several pieces. He then grinned. “Besides, haven’t you said that you need to keep at least five feet away from me when I eat?”

“I only say that when you decide to throw manners out the window,” R.D. chuckled, pointedly closing the refrigerator door, which Caliban had, admittedly, left open up until now. She opened a compartment beneath the oven, producing one of the smaller pans and setting it on the stove. “But seriously, you’ve already pulled strings to help me out when you didn’t have to; I might as well return the favor sometime. I’m honestly kind of shocked that you haven’t started holding that over my head by now.”

“That’s because I’m a humanitarian,” Caliban responded as he held the board above the pan to push the chunks of meat down onto its sizzling surface, laughing at how R.D. groaned and rolled her eyes.

“Aaaaaannd I regret this already,” R.D. muttered, though she still smiled when Caliban put the cleaver and board down in order to gently hug her from behind, resting his head on her shoulder.

“Oh, c’mon!” Caliban jokingly pouted. “I thought that one was pretty tasteful!”

“Snare is worried about you,” R.D. announced. “He’s been pacing around the hutch nonstop since you got back.”

Caliban froze, then raced up the stairs to go check on his pet.

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#my writing #caliban #caliban the cannibal #matpat #matthew patrick #egopats #R.D. #stephanie patrick #my character #fanmade egos #my fan egos #iswm murdock #murdock/murderplier #markiplier #mark fischbach #the pentas family #[the future mob project] #tw cannibalism #tw eating #tw cravings #tw hunger pangs #tw implied death #tw talk of murder #tw cramed/crowded spaces #tw implied illegal business #🔪 anon