#'look at how the massacred my boy' shut the fuck up!!!!!!!!!!!!

[dinoserious]

raging bolt get behind me

[hugh-lauries-bald-spot]

maybe if we dont make eye contact it will go away (this is about hbo velma)

[n3bulazer]

no he's not <3

[tonycries]

Golden Boy - G.S.

Synopsis. Falling right back in love with the cult leader you’re supposed to kíll? Happens more often than you’d think.

Pairing. Geto Suguru x Reader 

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, friends/lovers to enemies to lovers, oral (fem receiving), facesítting, creampíe, slight Gojo x Reader, running away from it, Suguru is so SOOO in love still, unprotected, spítting, kinda angsty, hurt/comfort, mentions of bIood and kníves, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.4k

A/N. I was listening to fantasmas while writing this so take that how you will LMAO.

The difficult part, surprisingly, wasn’t infiltrating Geto Suguru’s Time Vessel Association. No, a few faux tears, a decoy curse, and you were in - stepping through his grandiose hideout. The difficult part was convincing yourself that you were here to kill him. 

Something that utterly foolish little part of yourself still had trouble believing - even when you had a knife to his throat. 

“Any last words?” you spit, muffled through your mask, thankful for the way it covers up just how much your voice shakes. Maybe because of the way his lips curl into a familiar smile, maybe from his cool dagger pressing against the back of your neck.

Seconds away from a bloodbath. 

You don’t know if you’re breathing - or if he is either. Eyes locked on the way Sugur- your target only raises his hand up, up, up - getting ready to strike. To kill. Only you’d get him first and-

Snip!

You’re not dead. But you might as well have been, because your mask falls onto the tatami mat with a deafening clatter. 

“You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you.”

It’s hard not to remember. 

“You don’t have any right to say that.” your knees tighten around where you had him straddled to the ground. Your hand pinning one of his down, blade digging deeper into Suguru’s pale neck - eyeing the slow, steady drop of blood that beads down it. “Didn’t think you’d remember me, either.”

With your mask now no longer on your face, you could traitorously take in that relaxed grin - as if your life wasn’t in his hands right now. As if he didn’t care. 

Suguru’s hair was much longer now, splayed out across the floor inkily. Circling around his broad shoulders, around the eyes that were just a bit harder than they were ten years ago. And yet, you catch the way they flicker briefly with something so raw as he whispers gently, “How could I ever forget my first love?”

So quiet that you could’ve blamed it on your imagination - and you wish you did. 

It’s so unfair. 

Unfair how you let out a gasp, despite yourself. Unfair how you were the best sword wielder that Jujutsu had to offer, yet your fingers tremble on your knife. Heart stuttering at the mere sight of the way his eyes crinkle with the beginnings of a smile. Pleading, like all he could see was you from what felt like a thousand lifetimes ago. 

Those golden years. Back when rare Susanoomon cards were what you’d fight over, and the only stains he’d wipe off were from the grassy grounds of Jujutsu High, still faint underneath the encrusted blood on that uniform nestled away deep in his wardrobe.

You manage to grit out, “Shut up. You left me- us.”

“I did.”

Like it was all he wanted to see. 

“You never loved me.”

“I do.���

Your voice is shrill at this point, words stumbling over each other. “You’ve massacred more people than you’ve saved.”

Suguru wastes no time denying - or in any niceties. Looking right into your absolutely crazed eyes as he answers, “I have.” And his answer rings so hollow and emotionless in your ears, cold-blooded. Absolutely nothing like the boy you remembered. The one that would laugh and steal you away to take you around campus on his bicycle, all because the next class was “too far”.

“I- fuck.” You place both hands on the hilt of your blade, distantly registering the way that Suguru lets his own drop onto the floor. “I should kill you- I should kill you right now.”

Just one flick of your wrist. Fast and simple. 

In and out - exactly like you’d been ordered to. 

“And to die by your hand would be a death that someone like me doesn’t deserve.”

You both jolt when your knife hits the ground - as if neither of you were expecting it. And before you can stop yourself, you’re fisting his thick robes, pulling Suguru’s face up closer to yours. Mere inches away. 

“Then- then I’ll-” you choke, a hand coming up to dig into the sides of his milky neck, leaving neat, red indents on his skin. “I’ll kill you with my own hands, Suguru.”

And he’s known you for years - would never admit it, but was by your side for only half as long as he’d watched over you. 

Saw - only from a distance -  those big fat tears you cried at graduation, the curve of your lips as you pulled a very reluctant Nanami into a hug outside his new office building. The steely look in your eyes meeting Satoru’s much softer one, telling him first how you’re going into teaching. And the smile on your face when you thought of who else might have, too. If he’d gotten the chance.

Always hidden.

Never so close to this frenzied glint in your gaze, a tiny sob threatening to escape your lips. Never like this - and yet, he never thinks you’ve looked so beautiful. 

But what would someone like him know about beauty, anyway?

You flinch as Suguru reaches a hand up to thumb away the furrow between your brows, catching on the single, stray tear sitting at your cheekbone. Whispering - so low that you involuntarily crane your head closer to hear - “Still such a crybaby.”

“And you’re still going to be the death of me.”

Soft - Suguru’s lips are as soft as you imagined. And it’s not exactly the tender, picture-perfectly romantic first kiss his teenage self dreamt up with you, but fuck if he wasn’t going to remember this like it was. 

Perfect. 

Pretty lips smothering yours, all slow and sensual. Drinking in those deliciously breathless gasps of yours as he sucks on your candied lips. 

You gasp, “Suguru.” and it comes out teary. Making you finally register the wetness rolling down your cheeks, glistening against the dim lighting. You tighten your grip around his neck, “This won’t fix-”

“I know.” Fuck, does he know better than anyone else. 

A hand slides up your forearm, the other cupping your face to pull you closer. He’s running his hot tongue along your cheek, pooling your salty tears on his lips. “But let me make you forget - if just for tonight. Please.”

The only answer Suguru gets is your fingers leaving his neck, dancing feather-light across his sculpted shoulders to slide under his robe. Feeling the smooth plane of his pecs underneath your palm, that traitorously thundering heartbeat he wishes he could slow down. “Kiss me.”

“Fuck.” he pants into your open mouth. The sight of your glossy, slightly puffy lips having him surge forward to reattach his with yours with a pained grunt. “God- jus’ a bit more, my love.”

Again. And again and again- like he was addicted. 

He’d always been, with you, anyway.

You let out a sinful sound of his name when Suguru kisses down your neck, lips slotting over your racing pulse. Throbbing and so real under his lips, remembering how he used to feel this song under his arms long before. 

“Oh- shit.” you moan, when his now rougher - larger - hands sneak underneath your crumpled shirt, deftly unbuttoning. Unbuckling. Impatient. “Sugu-”

A hoarse groan leaves him, only spurring him to all but rip the rest of your uniform off your body faster. 

And at the first sight of you clad in nothing but your panties, Suguru’s kiss-bitten lips are falling slack. Brows shooting up into the dark strands of hair sticking to his forehead now, “Been missing out, hm?” He’s dipping a hand down to run the back of his index along your clothed, puffy folds. Up and down. “Really been-” Heart clenching when he remembers the way Satoru now looks at you with a familiar glint. One he knew all too well. “-missing out, my love.”

You’re only trailing your fingers along his cheek - his neck, grazing over that little mark from your blade. He groans - maybe from your touch, probably from the way you’re dragging your cunt across that massive bulge underneath you. “Please, Suguru. Wan’ you.” 

And if Geto Suguru has spent ten years denying himself, surely he could sacrifice it for the way he lifts your stuttering, sloppy hips up so easily. All the way up until they were hovering over his mouth, hot breath hitting your clothed cunt. 

“Wanna taste you.” he groans, spying on the way your slick beads through your panties. “Wan’ see if you’re as hah- sweet as I imagined. Please.”

And he’s obsessed with the way you’re sinking yourself down so gently, cock jumping at the thought of you afraid you’d suffocate him - as if you didn’t have your blade at his throat just minutes ago.

“Fuuuck, don’t worry, pretty.” he groans, soft darting to lick at the juices smeared across your inner thighs. “Some more now. Put it all on me, I can take it- fuck-”

Your syrupy sweet cunt has Geto losing whatever’s left of his fucking restraint, dark eyes rolling to the back of his head because you were so sweet. So pretty looking down at him with your glassy eyes. So addictive. He moans, chest heaving as he breathes in your essence. “What happened to that feist from earlier? Gonna hafta do a lil’ more than that now.”

“B-but-”

It’s at this moment you realize that at any given moment Suguru could’ve easily taken the upper hand. A hand of his pulls down your hesitant hips, swollen lips against your covered ones in such a filthy kiss. 

He hums into your folds, bunching your panties between them. “Mmm. Shit- jus’ like I imagined.” Hot tongue dipping just underneath the flimsy fabric to feel out your sloppy entrance, “Better, even. Jus’ look how well you’re taking me, pretty.”

But you don’t - too scared to find out that you’d like the sight more than you should. How you wished you could go back to the golden days where it didn’t matter - wasn’t a matter of life and death. And something else entirely. 

And this dilemma has Suguru’s brows furrowing, sharp canines lightly nipping at one of your swollen folds. Wanting to see how it’s him - despite everything, it’s still him making you feel this way. “None of that now.”

RIP!

With this you have to look down, a desperate whine leaving your stupid mouth at the fucking sinful sight down below. Your panties now a tattered excuse in between Suguru’s teeth, baring them with such a devilish grin right up at you. 

“See?” he spits out the fabric onto the floor beside him, half-lidded eyes peering up at you so sultry. Looking right at you as his tongue lolls out, spreading your bare, needy folds shamefully. “Isn’t this much better?”

“Hngh- fuck, yes-” you slide your fingers through his now-messy hair, falling out of that half-bun. Jolting on top with each push of his tongue past that feeble ring of resistance, the lewd squelches leaving you with each graze of the wet muscle against your walls. “Shit- Suguru it feels too good. So deep ngh-”

He swats a hand against your ass, making you sit your slutty hips down deeper, all the way till Suguru’s jaw was grinding so greedily against your cunt. Tongue bullying past your folds in and out in and out in and-

“God- hah-” he’s pulling away to gasp deep lungfuls of air - secondary, to the way he was back immediately to making out so hotly with your tight pussy. “Mmm fuck. This cute lil cunt is so needy. S’like you’re trynna suck my tongue off.” Thumb reaching up to draw slow, languid circles that have you throwing your head back. “So perfect.”

Your delirious mouth is dropping open, body moving before your mind as you strain to reach your hand behind. Trembling. Shaky when you manage to cup Suguru’s aching erection. 

“G-guess m’not the only one ah- needy, hm?” you smirk, having him bucking and spitting out harsh little profanities with each rub of your palm down his drenched length. 

Suguru doesn’t give you a response - because his fingers are speaking on his behalf. Dipping into your sloppy hole, locating your g-spot, as if on instinct. He’s milking your pretty cunt while he roams for those sweet spots. Lips muffling around your throbbing clit, “You’re always right, my love. You always were.”

And his words are so gentle - mouth so sloppy. Squelches so obscene. 

Nose pressing up at the top of your abdomen, cheeks hollowing wetly around the sensitive nub. Letting your juices drip all the way down his chin, his jaw, dangerously close to that cut on his neck. 

The hand sliding back and forth across the swollen outline of his cock had Suguru get more frenzied. Faster. Like it was his personal mission to make you cum on his tongue before he fucking passed out. 

Penetrating your gummy hole with both his fingers and his tongue, spreading it open more. And it’s all you can do to keen, “Oh- oh my god.” Riding Suguru’s pretty face harder. “Shit- m’close, Suguru.”

“Always right.” he gasps, swiping his tongue faster across your clit. “Always perfect” Alternating between squeezing back into your hole, your sweet spots. Stretching out your gummy walls as far as they’d go. “Always made f’me.” Assaulting it with both his fingers and his tongue. Again. And again and again and- “Jus’ wish I got to have you sooner.”

His words make you snap your eyes up from his mean mouth to meet his gaze, devouring you as greedily and depraved as his tongue. They make your thighs burn with the effort to drag your sloppy pussy faster.

They make you cum - shaking, crying out little mewls of “Ngh- fuck. M’cumming m’cumming m’cumming.”

The way your voice is breaking at the end of each moan has Suguru’s cock straining so painfully against his trousers. One hand firmly on your waist, arching you deeper to tongue you through your high in ways he’s only ever dared to imagine. 

Ways he’s selfishly hoped only he could - even after all these years, the sight of any other man looking at you wrong having his irritation flaring. 

“S’right.” his voice is sending stars bursting behind your lids, tongue even worse. Having you pleading and so sensitive. “I got you, my love. Give it t’me.” Messy - not as forgiving as he’d like to be. “Give it alllll to me.”

And you do - all but smothering Suguru’s eager tongue with all your sweet juices. Ones he’s lapping up happily, tilting his head back as far as it’d go on the floor, letting your heady slick fill up his throat. His pussydrunk lips let out a hiss, both at the burn of that cut on his neck, and the way you’re desperately pulling your hips back. 

Too overstimulated. Too fucking sensitive. Too much - but it would never be enough for Suguru. 

“Please, Suguru.” you sob at the way your limp hips are being pulled back by a needy Suguru. “M’too sensitive. I- fuck-” He’s only lapping at your quivering cunt leisurely, smirk prominent against your swollen folds. 

And it’s all you can do to deliriously slip a hand underneath his robes, a desperate attempt to keep whatever shred of sanity you have left. Fingers feeling down his unfairly toned abs, the tufts of hair at his pelvis, reaching-

“Oh fuck!” Your heavy eyes admire the way Suguru arches into your touch in surprise - like he couldn’t help himself. Eyes flying open, glossy, plump lips curling into a disbelieving grin, “Ya really are made f’me, huh?” 

That’s all it takes for Suguru to head to your lewd whims, bruising fingers on your hips finally loosening to let you sit your sloppy cunt back down on his lap - except, this time, you were seated directly on his rock-hard cock. Pussy lips spreading around his length to just soak him. 

“Oh, my love.” He sits up, splaying you out so prettily on his lap. “How I’ve missed you.”

You don’t even register the way you’re raising your head up to meet Suguru’s - not until he spits. Once. Twice. Straight onto your awaiting tongue that you didn’t even realize you were sticking out, saccharine sweet saliva making such a mess when he’s crashing his lips into yours. 

“Yeahh, like that. Kiss me like that.” he slurs against your mouth, drunk off both sets of your sweet lips. Getting out through wet, sloppy pecks. “How I wish I had you sooner.”

You can feel your heart thumping so wildly against your ribcage, matching the needy, needy staccato of Suguru’s cock throbbing between your puffy folds. And, well, you really can’t be blamed for the way you break the kiss to look down and oh-

Oh Suguru notices that furrow between your brows, kissing away the nervous little wobble in your lower lips as he grunts, “God, you’re killin’ me.” 

Fuck. Killing him?

You were the one sent in for the kill, but it seems you won’t be making it out here alive. 

Because Suguru was so big, girth rubbing up against your thighs. So angry and heavy, smearing hot precum over his abs, your cunt, adding to add to the absolute mess. Long enough that you knew you wouldn’t be able to walk out of here - which, honestly, Suguru would’ve preferred. To keep you with him forever. 

To have you always mewling so prettily when he’s dragging his fat head down your sensitive slit. To have his name - and only his name - leave your bruised lips when he’s asking, “Who’s got you this wet?” 

You’re so cockdrunk already that you’re groaning mindlessly, “You- Suguru-”

“No, that’s not what you call me.” 

And it takes you a few, long seconds to understand what he’s saying, all the while trying to focus with the leaky tip being pressed past your swollen folds. Slow. Torturous. Hitting you so violently at the same time he slips past that first, slutty ring of muscle. 

“Sugu!”

A blinding grin splits across Suguru’s absolutely fucked-out face, brows furrowing together in ecstasy. “That’s more hah- like it.” Not having heard that familiar little nickname - one of your many - fall from your lips since high school - one that makes a heart he forgot he had grow five sizes too large. “Now, just take me-” Hips bucking up, so strong and ruthless. “-like I know you can, okay?”

Over and over. 

You can’t let out anything but barely-lucid whines at this point, letting Suguru sink in inch by fucking inch. Your walls stretched out so perfectly to take his sheer size. But the stretch- oh, the stretch.

Fuck, it has you clawing at Suguru’s exposed shoulders, fingers leaving angry, red marks down the muscles. An obscene ah! ah! ah! leaving your lips with each time he reels his hips back, only to bully his aching cock inside until he physically couldn’t.

“Hngh- Sugu, s’too big-” You buck your hips down in shallow, tentative grinds to meet his filthy method of fitting in. “Too- much. Didn’t expect you to be so mean-”

“The sorcerer that hah- held a knife to the infamous Geto Suguru’s neck-” he groans, hands groping your ass to move you further down his massive cock. To watch the way your sloppy entrance was stretching out so much to suck him up. “-can take this too, right? I know you can.” He reaches a deft thumb around to toy with your pretty clit, making your cunt relax like the good girl she is. Fucking up deeper, just a bit more mean. “You- can-”

Several things happen at the tail end of Suguru’s sentence - he’s finally fitting in all in one go. With a calculated, harsh thrust up into your poor cunt, your ass is kissing his heavy balls, pussy rubbing against the hair at his hilt. So full and so much.

And Suguru knows he just might not see heaven - but shit, does he feel like he’s there right now. The feeling so good that both of you letting out mingling gasps of pleasure. 

Your back falling onto the now soiled mats like such animals, the other not far behind.

“You alright, my love?” Suguru hums against your throat when you’re managing to adjust somewhat to the stretch, aware enough to kiss the palm resting protectively underneath your head - making sure you don’t hurt yourself.

You bat your teary lashes, “Never been better, Sugu.”

And something about that makes him remember. 

Remember the way you’d tell him the exact same thing when you fought with curses too strong for you - coming back to the dorms all battered and bruised, but alive. Flashing him that addictive grin, and a crooked thumbs up, “Never been better, Sugu. Gold, actually.”

His golden girl.

Shaking away the tightness at his throat, Suguru instead focuses on wrapping your trembling legs around his toned waist. Tight.

“Sh-shit- you’re milkin’ me so good, fuck-”

Abs burning as he just drags his cock along your plushy walls, keeping your legs held wide open for him. So tight - like you were sucking the fucking soul out of him. Making sure to angle his hips in just the way that’ll have your eyes tearing at the way he was massaging all your sweet spots. 

And sure enough - “O-oh my god-” you breathe, and shit, it was so hard to speak. Suguru’s cock too big, too depraved. Speeding up with every ram of his hips into a steady, mean pace. “Jus’ like that, fuck-”

“Mhm?”

You paw at his free hand settled by the side of your neck, trailing it down, down, down - rings and all - to the part of your stomach you could feel his thick tip hitting. A slight bulge, abusing your cervix over and over, “Here-”

“-s’where I belong.”

Your brows raise at his interjection, and you swipe away the long locks of hair partially covering Suguru’s face, legs tightening around his hips as you take a long, hard look. He repeats, “S’where I belong. Where ngh- you belong.”

Like some deep, dark part of him was trying to fuck out any and every doubt about this out of you - as if you’d have any - Suguru’s rolling his hips harder into yours. All the way until it almost hurt - until the sting of his twitching balls against your ass felt permanent, fingerpads pressing down so hard on your stomach. 

Lips searing against yours, punctuating each word with a jagged, rough thrust. “Because you sh-shouldn’t be ah- here. You shouldn’t be-” He drags you deeper onto his dick like some ragdoll, fingers frenzying on your clit. “-with me.”

Words slurring and as sloppy as his hips now. 

“Wh-why fuck- why wouldn’t I be?”

“Heh, you forgot?” Suguru spits out a chuckle, pushing you further and further up the mat with how bruising his hips were hitting yours. Alternating between marking your cervix - your g-spot - your gummy walls. “Forgot how I told ya to live a better life than this?” Everything and anything. Hips smacking so loud, echoing in symphony with those melancholy words he parted with so long ago. “How I told you to hngh- find a-another? Live a long life? To be happy?”

Now that Suguru was talking, it was like he couldn’t stop. Like a damn had been broken - both with his words and his movements. The curve of his dick drives you wild, veins molding your cunt into their shape. 

Gritting his teeth to hold back the way his drenched balls squeeze so painfully, biting down on your lower lip. “You’re s-supposed to kill me.” A drop of sweat splashing down on your cheek, “To kill me and maybe you’ll be hah- fuck mine in another universe. But not this one.” It’s like he’s out of control now, “Never this one. You can have anybody else.”

And suddenly you’re having a flashback to just a week prior, to an uncharacteristically solemn Satoru telling you words you should’ve been happy to hear. Quiet, and unassuming. Ones you knew that had you heard them before knowing Suguru, you’d have jumped into his arms - exactly how he hoped you would, the day of his departure. 

Chuckling at you being such a “crybaby” about him leaving. After all, this was just meant to be, right?

But no.

Instead, you’re here. Bunching Suguru’s beautiful, glossy hair curtaining the sides of your head, into a ponytail. Difficult - with how he was getting faster. Harder. Just ravaging your hole until you were gaping and breathless.

And yet, arms trembling and limp, you still manage to reveal the boy you fell in love with - the one you could never forget. From the flush on his pretty face, to the twisted, sad curve of his mouth. And the eyes that bore into yours like they were searching for the same thing. Smiling, for the first time since you entered this place, “How could I ever want anyone else, Sugu?”

The hand on your stomach is cupping your adorable face so softly - and it’s hard to believe those hands have killed. Betrayed.

Like they were capable of doing anything but as Suguru swipes the single tear glistening down your cheek, “Still a crybaby, huh, my love?”

And then you cum - and Suguru isn’t too far behind. 

It’s just a flash of hot white, tingles running down your spine - all the way to the thick, creamy base soon forming around his wildly twitching cock. 

And it’s so good. Too good that all you can do it scream out his name, letting him do anything - and you were glad all he did was fuck you so mercilessly through your high. So violent. Addictive. 

Vision blurry, mouth sagging open for Suguru to press intimate little kisses along the corners of your mouth. Whispering sweet praises as your cunt sucks him up so good. So sinfully milking him for everything he’s worth. 

Taking in rope after rope of thick cum that warms your gummy walls from the inside, overfilling just enough for it to dribble down into the mat below in an obscene little pool. Smearing down your thighs, his balls. Heavenly. 

His heaven.

And in the haze of it all, Suguru imagines that you’ll reach for your knife again, press it back against the curve of his exposed neck. He imagines you’ll laugh in his face, tell him what a great whim this was but you had to get back to your job, turning your back on him as he has done before. He imagines.

But what he gets is your strained, fucked-out little voice, “I missed you, my golden boy.”

A/N. Yes, That Line was inspired by HTTYD. If I had to be hurt, y’all do, too. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[yandereunsolved]

More Self aware HOTD cast because I love you😘

-

Reader, knows the hotd cast is sentient so might as well: *watching that one scene where Vhagar bites off luke and his dragon* DIVE BOY AT HIGH SPEED!

Luke: *makes his dragon dive downwards without a question* *avoids his death as Vhagar bites air* .....

Reader: very good *turns to look at a bewildered Vhagar and Aemond* I WILL FIND A WAY TO REACH THROUGH THE SCREEN AND STRANGLE YOU MYSELF IF YOU HARM THE BABY!

Vhagar: *recoils in fright*

Reader: bad dragon! I am disappointed!

Vhagar: *looking like a kicked puppy*

-

Vaemond, on screen: HER SONS ARE BASTARD-

Reader: Boy shut the fuck up

Vaemond: ....

Rhaenyra: .....

Daemomd: ....

Reader: do you wanna get beheaded?! Apologise you uncultured swine-

-

Syrax: *appears on screen smiling like a kitten with a heart necklace made of gold around her?his?their neck*

Reader: baby, beautiful baby

-

Seasmoke: *flying to a running Addam*

Addam: *is running for his life*

Reader: boy calm down, you have a dragon now so sit your ass

Addam: *is scared but sat his ass on the sand*

Rhaenyra, wasn' suppose to appear much later but appears earlier: ....

Reader: Seasmoke I know he looks like Laenor but for the love of dragons, don't scare the guy even if its just a prank

Seasmoke: *huffing like a child who got told no*

-

Luke: *returns to his mother safe and sound*

Reader: on second thought I'll just fuck either Rhaenyra or Daemond, im disappointed

Aemond: ....

Rhaenyra: *feeling smug*

Daemond: *also feels smug*

Aegon: how come I don't get a chance and those two could?!

-

Rhaenys: *upset she couldn't be the queen*

Reader: If only I could reach through the god damn screen I will strangle the man for not giving you your birthright just because your a woman

Jaehaerys: ....

Reader: Shame! Shame on you! If it were me I will treat her the queen she is! Dishonour on you fiend!

-

Rhaenys: *just existing*

Reader: mommy?😍

-

Baby jaehaerys: *existing*

Reader: *in a small voice* baby!

Blood and Cheese: *appearing*

Reader: I WILL CUT YOUR DICKS OFF IF YOU LAY HAND ON BABY! *stands up abruptly from the sofa*

Blood and cheese: ....

I don't know what to put here it became limited🙁

😒 Stupid Tumblr ask box. Anygays, thank you. 😳 I have been fed. 🍖

More yandere self-aware hotd thoughts for the soul—

—

Aemond: "It isn't fair. First they wanted to... be intimate me. They do not want me to bed them anymore." muttering to himself.

Reader: "Killing children isn't sexy! Strip! Beat the shit out of your brother! Order some guards to do something. I like it when you command people... your naked body is hot too..."

—

Addam: "I love you."

Reader: "What?"

Addam: "I-I love you so much."

Reader: "Wow, uh—okay."

Daemon & Rhaenyra in the corner with their dragons.

Daemon: "I told him to keep his mouth shut."

Rhaenyra: "We can't just outright kill him."

Daemon: "Send him into battle and get him killed?"

Rhaenyra: "Exactly."

—

Aegon: taking care of baby jaehaerys.

Reader: "Mhm... so adorable."

Aegon: "Me?"

Reader: "Jaehaerys."

Aegon: "Oh."

Reader: "You're a total dilf."

Aegon: thinking: I feel like that's a good thing. smirk.

—

Reader: "Aww, such a cute dragon~!" to Vermithor.

Sees Vermithor's scene.

Reader: "Bad boy!"

Vermithor: growls and flops on the ground.

Reader: "No more massacres!"

Vermithor: whines and pouts adorably.

—

Criston: "I—"

Reader: "Shut the fuck up. On your knees. You need to drink your respect women juice."

—

Helaena: covered in blood. she just killed someone for reader.

Reader: "... Are you okay?"

Helaena: crying. "Do you love me?"

Reader: "My baby! I love you so much. I want to reach through the screen and cuddle you so badly."

Helaena: thinking about killing someone again just for her darling's approval.

—

The yandere self-aware hotd characters when darling reader loves them back—

[theereina]

Big Mama Pt. 5

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +7.4K 🤦🏽‍♀️

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, teasing, heavily dialogue-centered, use of pet names (Daddy, Mama, lil' mama, pretty girl, good boy, etc.), angst, P in V, oral (female receiving), Dom!Terry, CNC (roleplay fantasy "r-word")

A/N: I don't know how many parts there will be. However, I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Big Mama Pt. 1 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 2 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 3 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 4 => 🦋

6 months later ~ Halloween night

“Girl, why the fuck does this man have y'all stayin’ way the fuck out here?” Monica asked while driving. “That's the point. He knows I love the country. Plus, it so fuckin’ peaceful out here,” I said laughing. “’Vana, this is a serial killer's dream. Two black people in the middle of nowhere!” she blurted.

Tonight, we all went to a Halloween party as a group— Monica, Jordan, Terry, and I. The party was thrown at a warehouse downtown. It was fuckin' amazing. I had never had that much fun before. Terry even seemed to really enjoy himself, but he got sick at some point. He let me know that he was leaving early. I offered to go with him, but he declined. After he left, I tried my best to have fun but couldn't stop worrying about him. He wasn't answering my calls or texts which was strange.

I leaned over while sitting in the car. I unstrapped my heels and pulled them off. I was wearing a sexy schoolgirl costume that left nothing to the imagination. We agreed to dress up as a couple with Terry being a nerdy school professor. Our costumes made much more sense when we stood near each other, so I spent most of the night by his side.

Monica drove down the gravel driveway of the large farmhouse. Pulling to the front porch, I realized all the lights were off. It was eerily quiet— almost too quiet. Terry must have actually been sick if he had gone to bed this early. Monica's car came to a stop. She looked out into the field and stared at the barn. “This really is some serial killer type shit!” she said shaking her head. “Shut up!” I said laughing at her remarks. Monica was definitely on edge.

“I'm so done with you,” I said grabbing my heels before getting out of the car. “Just call me or text me. I wanna make sure you're safe. This shit so creepy,” she said scrunching up her nose and looking around. “Okay, scaredy cat,” I said leaning back into the window tickling her neck. “Terry is big and all, but not Texas Chainsaw Massacre big. Be safe!” she said. “Goodnight, whore!” I yelled as I turned and started walking towards the porch. I walked up the steps with the heels swinging in my hand. The front door was left unlocked because Terry had the only key. I opened the door and walked in.

I looked around the open living room in search of Terry. “Terry, baby? Where are you?” I yelled as I turned towards the hallway. Before I could move, I saw something flash across the large floor-to-ceiling window in the living room. I couldn't tell if it was a light or a reflection. I stood there for a second to see if it would happen again. Nothing. I shrugged my shoulders and proceeded to walk up the stairs. I was approaching the master bedroom door when I noticed a stain on the floor. It was a puddle of dark liquid. I couldn't tell what it was, but it smelled metallic. I leaned over in front of the door and hovered over the puddle. It looked like— blood.

I leaned up and quickly backed away from the door. I dropped the heels and held my chest. I turned back towards the stairs. I instantly wanted to flee but realized I didn't know where Terry was. “Terry, please. If this is a joke, this a fuckin' sick one!” I yelled from the top of the stairs. I turned back to look at the bedroom door. What if he was in there hurt? Shit!

I slowly walked back up to the door. I placed my hand on the doorknob and turned it slowly. I opened the door slightly peeking around. “Terry,” I said whispering into the room, “I don't like this.” I walked into the room, staying close to the door. I walked towards the center of the room facing the bed. The master bathroom door was cracked open with the light on. There was a smaller puddle at the bottom of this door. I wasn't liking this at all. My anxiety was pushing my heart through my chest. Every breath was feeling like swallowing razor blades. I inched closer to the door as panic was setting in. What if Terry was on the other side of this door? What if he was hurt, what if he was dead?

As I approached the door, I noticed faint marks leading from the puddle and into the bathroom— drag marks. No! I tried my hardest to level my breathing. I placed my hand on the door and pushed it open slowly. I opened the door to find blood splatter all over the bathroom and the tub covered in it. I almost screamed but covered my mouth. I started to back out of the bathroom. My foot stepped into the puddle by the bathroom door, soaking the bottom of my stockings. Tears were starting now.

As I lifted my foot to remove the stockings, there was a loud thud at the bedroom window. I didn't want to look out, but I had to know if it was Terry. I slowly crossed the room. The window had no blinds just a sheer white curtain. I pushed the curtain open lightly to peek but hopefully not be seen. I looked out towards the field at the rear of the house. That's when I saw him— a man. He was holding an axe over his shoulder. He looked like a lumberjack. THIS WASN'T TERRY! I stumbled away from the window unsure of what I just saw. There was no way this was happening. We didn't come way out here for this shit! I slowly leaned back towards the window to look again. This time I didn't touch the curtains.

He was still there, but his head was tilted up facing the window this time. The axe was resting by his side. He slowly raised the axe and slung it onto his shoulder. I could see there was something in his other hand. Before I could investigate further, he pointed towards the window. He could see me! He raised his hand above his hand and slung whatever was in his hand at the window. I ducked behind the wall. The object hit the window with a splat.

I eased away from the window to see blood splatter dripping down. I backed up towards the bed while still facing the window. Holding my chest, I tried to sort out what was going on. Then, I heard the sound of heavy boots thumping on the back porch. He was closer now. That's when I remembered the backdoor couldn't be locked from the inside. Terry had told me this earlier that day. But if the door couldn't be locked, he could just—. Before I could finish my thoughts, I heard the backdoor open and slam against the wall. The last place I wanted to be was in the room he last saw me in because this would be the first place he searched.

So, I slipped out of the bedroom door and hid in the guest room. I could hear his footsteps hitting the stairs as I closed the door. The closer he got; the louder it became. He paused at the top of the stairs. I heard his footsteps lead towards the room I left. While holding my breath, I heard him slowly open and close the door. I instantly began weighing out all my options. I could hide here like the typical dumbass— under the bed, in the closet, or behind a door. Or, I could sneak and hide somewhere else before he sees me.

Fuck it! I was trying my luck with the second option.

I stood near the door and slowly opened it. Peeking out into the empty hallway towards the other room, I turned around and tried to close the door slowly so it didn't creak. I turned back around and began tip-toeing towards the top of the stairs. Before I could get far, I noticed the bathroom door in the hallway open. I had this odd feeling that I was being watched. I didn't want to look, but I was too afraid to make any sudden movements. I pressed my back against the railing while closely watching the opening and the bedroom door of the room I left.

As soon as I reached the banister, I felt a presence behind me. I was right! He had never gone into the bedroom. He rushed from the open bathroom, coming straight towards me. He tossed the axe to the opposite hand with ease. The mask he wore covered his head entirely, so I couldn't see his hair, face, or eyes. I tried to run away from him, but he managed to grab the back of my top. I yanked away from him, causing it to rip. I stumbled down the stairs with him close behind me.

I knew better than to run out the backdoor. There was nothing but acres of open fields. The kitchen wasn't an option either as it was in the back of the home. I ran towards the front door, leaping off the porch. I sprinted for the barn across from the house. It was far, but I had a better chance of finding a weapon to use. The barn door was open. There wasn't an ounce of light inside. Fuck it! It was too late to turn back now. I ran into the barn and hid behind a mountain of hay.

He was cocky. He didn't even run after me; he casually walked. He treated this like it was an everyday encounter. There wasn't an ounce of worry in his demeanor. His shoulders were squared, and his stance was wide. He stood at the barn entrance, searching for any signs of where I went. He knew I was in here.

He rolled his shoulders and neck. He swung the axe back and forth at his side. He turned around, facing the barn door. He walked to the side and pulled the handle for the door. He slid it across the entrance. He was sealing me inside. There was nowhere to run, but the other door. It was closed, but I only needed an opportunity to run and enough gap to squeeze through.

Walking to the corner, he pulled a metal chain across the bar on the door and locked it. Now, I was LOCKED in. I had to get to that back door. I looked around me, but there was nothing. Had I really gotten locked in here with nothing to defend myself?

I eased along the slide of the bales, trying not to make a sound. I was short enough to stay concealed as I moved. I made it to the other end of the barn before he made another move. He was at one end and I was at the other. I realized that I could go for the door. It didn't look too heavy for me to pull.

All I had to do was get to the door, push it open enough to slip through and run. That's it.

I stood as close as I could to the wall. I took a silent deep breath. I peeked around to make sure he was still on the opposite side. I slipped past the hay and ran for the door. I could see him turn to face me. I grabbed the handle and pulled it as hard as I could. It wouldn't budge. I tried to push it again and again. Nothing.

I turned around to see him walking towards me. Oh no! That's when I heard it— the sound of a chain. This door was locked from the outside. There was no way I had just done this. I kept pulling at the door. I flattened my back against it, turning to face him. He wasn't moving any closer. He stood in the middle of the barn with the axe over his shoulder. I knew for a fact that I couldn't outrun him. So, what do I do?

“Please, just leave me alone. My boyfriend's here somewhere!” I yelled holding my arms in front of my stomach. He barked out the most sinister laugh I had ever heard, before stopping abruptly and going silent. “He's dead, you dumb bitch! You didn't get that from the mess upstairs!” he yelled. The world around me began to spin. He had said the quiet part out loud. Terry was dead, and I just didn't want to believe it. “What? I gotta show you his body for you to believe me?” he said walking closer. “No!” I yelled. “No!” he yelled mocking me, “You sound fuckin' pathetic.” I was crying even harder now. No amount of breathwork or grounding would save me from this. I was about to die, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. “So, is this the part where you run again, huh? Save yourself the trouble, pretty girl. Just come here!” he said pointing in front of him using the axe. “Fuck… fuck you!” I said crying.

His body stiffened immediately. His hand gripped the handle of the axe tighter. “I said to c’mere. Right the fuck now!” he barked. I stood where I was frozen in fear. “If I gotta come getchu or you make me chase you, so help me God!” he spat. I pushed away from the door while slowly walking towards him. I had to try something.

As I moved closer to him, I shifted my path to the side of him. I didn't want to get close to him, but did I have a choice? I stopped a few feet from him so I was out of reach. “You do know that if I swing this fuckin' axe I can still hit you?” he said frankly. I looked between us. He was telling the truth. I wasn't stopping shit. If he wanted to get me, he still could. “Come on, pretty girl. Help me, help you. Stand right here,” he said in a calmer tone.

I still didn't move— I couldn't. No matter what I did right now? I was going to die anyway.

I looked down at my feet. “Is it the axe, baby girl? Tell me,” he said tilting his head. I looked up at the axe and trailed my eyes up to his face. I could sense that he was staring at me. “Look at me, lil’ mama!” he snapped. He seemed agitated with my antics, but I didn't know what to do. He was tall and appeared muscular. My short thick ass couldn't outrun him or fight him.

He waved the axe around wildly, slinging it away. It soared through the air and landed on the barn’s upper level. “See. I'm nice,” he said raising his hands. They were empty, but I wasn't stupid. I knew a man like this didn't need weapons when his hands could do damage and kill.

I wasn't any less scared, but oh well. I walked towards him slowly, holding my breath. Once I was in arm's reach, he grabbed my shirt by the knot in the front. It tore in half. He yanked it from my body, exposing my black push-up bra. I threw my hands up to cover my chest. He smacked my hand down. “Move your fuckin' hands!” he yelled, raising his hand as if he were about to hit me again. “I fuckin' dare you!” he grunted through gritted teeth. I dropped my hands by my side, waiting for whatever was coming. Why wasn't he doing anything?

“What do you really want?” I asked. I was tired of this sicko's games. “Does it fuckin' matter? It's not like you got anywhere to go,” he said laughing. He was faking his composure. He wasn't calm at all. His hands were flexing and his shoulders were tensing up by the second. Why did I let Terry talk me into coming out here?

“Arghhh… If you don't fuckin' move!” he yelled. Fear took over, causing me to take a step back. “You know what fuck that?” he said pulling out a pair of leather gloves from his back pocket. He pulled them over his hands and wiggled his fingers. His hands filled the gloves perfectly. He closed the gap between us in two quick steps. His chest was right in front of my face.

I dropped my head. There was no point in running. “Just do it already!” I yelled hitting him in the chest repeatedly. He stood there and took every hit. His body didn't move an inch. Nothing I was doing was even affecting this man. Angered because I was tired of being toyed with, I pushed him in his chest. He shifted a little. I pushed him again. He shifted back a little more. Before I could push him a third time, he grabbed my hands. He held my hands above my head. “Stupid girl. Was that fun for you? Aww, you're fighting the big bad man. How cute?” he said mocking me.

He released my arms. I looked down and rubbed my wrists. I was caught off guard by his hand wrapping around my throat. He lifted my body from the ground and pushed me against one of the posts on the barn. “If you ever put your fuckin' hands on me again, I'll snap your fuckin' neck! Understand?” he grumbled. His teeth were grinding, and his grip was tightening. “Yes!” I managed to squeal out. “That's what the fuck I thought!” he yelled, releasing his grip.

My body hit the ground with a thud. I held my neck. I was sure there was a mark or a bruise. I was leaning over on one side. He squatted down so that he was right in front of me. Reaching to touch my face, he stroked my cheek and wiped my tears. “You're too pretty to be cryin’, girl,” he said tilting his head to one side. He was just hovering over me stroking my cheek. It was as if he was in a trance. I took in a deep breath. He let his hand roam my body. First, he groped my breast. Then, he caressed my stomach. This didn't feel right. Why was he all of a sudden being so gentle— too gentle?

His hand went lower and stopped at the top of my skirt. He looked back up at me while his hand moved down to my thighs. He pushed my skirt up and began dragging his hand along my thighs. “Damn, I know he’ll miss this,” he said moving his hand up towards my pussy. I clamped my thighs shut. No way was he about to touch me there. His face shot up in my direction. One of his hands shot up and slapped me across the face. “Don’t fuckin’ try me!” he said grabbing my chin. Even though I couldn’t see his eyes, I could tell his gaze was locked on my face.

While still gripping my chin and focusing on my face, his hand began moving again. His hand stalled and rested on top of my pussy. He hooked his pointer and index fingers around the crotch of my panties, tugging them a little. He tore them off my body, and I screamed as the fabric scratched against my skin.

I kicked him in the chest as hard as I could. He grabbed my ankle and yanked me towards him. I tried to find something to grab onto, failing miserably. My palms burned from being pulled through the dirt. “Stop, or else!” he screamed, holding my legs down. “Fuck you! If you're going to do it, do it! Bitch!” I yelled slapping him across the face.

I turned over onto my stomach and began attempting to crawl away. He grabbed the back of my legs, pulling me back towards him. I managed to snatch one leg away. He leaned forward and jumped onto my back. His hands flew to the back of my head, pulling my hair so my back was flush to his chest. “Yell! Scream! Go ahead! Nobody can hear you, dumbass!” he said in my ear, yanking my head up. “Let me go!” I screamed.

I couldn't keep fighting him. As much as I didn't want to admit it, I knew only one of us would walk away from this, and it wouldn't be me. “You don't like living do you?” he said pushing me to the ground. My face hit the dirt. A metallic taste flooded my mouth— blood. I lifted my hand and wiped my mouth. I turned over, sitting on my butt. I pushed on my hands to get up. “Sit!” he screamed, knocking me back. I was tired of this shit. I wanted no part of this stupid ass game he was playing.

I pulled my knees into my chest and began crying. “Hell, nah! Shut the fuck up! The fuck is cryin’ gonna do?” he asked while grabbing the back of my head. He used his grip on my hair to pull me down before straddling me. “You know what? Maybe I was wrong. I like the way you look when you cry. Soft. Sweet. Defenseless. Scared. Yeah, I think I like this,” he said cupping my left breast. His hand wandered to my left bra strap. He pushed it down slowly before doing the same to the other side. “Take it off slowly. No need to rush. We got all night,” he said low. I didn't move. What was the point of doing what he said? Prolonging my ending life seemed futile.

He reached behind him and pulled out a hunter's knife. I stared at the blade, tensing up. I placed my hands on his chest, trying to push him away. He grabbed my hands in one of his and held them above my head. He twirled the knife in his hand before pressing it into the front of my neck. The adrenaline in my body was pumping, and my ears were ringing. “Just do it!” I yelled, sobbing. His focus shifted back to my face. I could almost see his features spread into a smile through the mask. “Okay!” he said laughing. I felt the knife leave my skin. The presence of the blade still lingering behind.

With a heavy heart, I closed my eyes. I waited and waited. Every breath seemed to bring me closer to my last. I felt his grip on my hands tighten but still nothing. What was he doing? I wanted to close my eyes but was too afraid of what I might see.

I felt the knife glide across my stomach. I felt the blade rest on the fabric between my bra cups.

rip

He sliced through the front of my bra and began making quick work of the straps as well. I opened my eyes to see him peeling the pieces from my body. My exposed nipples hardened from the crispness of the Autumn air. He raised the knife to my chest, sliding it across my nipples. The cold blade stimulated the sensitive buds. I squirmed underneath him. This was feeling— I don't know. Was I enjoying this, or was my fear driving me insane?

I moved my hands and twisted my wrists. “No,” I whimpered. “No? You sure, pretty girl? I bet if I rubbed my hand through that pussy of yours, she'd be sayin' something else! Wouldn't she?” he said putting the knife back behind him. “Just…,” I said trying to tug away again. It must have annoyed him because it earned me another slap to the face. “Quit the bullshit, baby! Let's see!” he said, placing his hands on the button of my skirt. He unbuttoned and unzipped it quickly. While grabbing both sides of the zipper, he easily tore the mini skirt in half. “Clean! I like that. You came prepared for me, huh?” he said rubbing the mound of my pussy. The fabric of his leather gloves was like ice against my skin. He scooted back on his knees a little so that he was straddling my thighs more than my waist. He stuffed his hand between my legs, palming my pussy. He cupped his hand, trailing it through my folds. He dragged his hand up and down my slit, grazing my clt each time.

I was shocked by what I saw when he pulled his hand out. Cum! What the hell was going on? “Oh! That's lovely,” he said bringing the wet glove closer to his face mask. He drew in a deep breath. “Now, I might not be the smartest man but that looks like arousal to me. Don't it?” he said bringing the glove to my face. “ Yes… no… I don't fuckin' know!” I yelled. “You might wanna admit it, baby. You like this, huh? You dirty slut!” he said stuffing his fingers into my mouth. I gagged at the force.

“Don't say shit! Just suck!” he said, leaning over me. His face was right in front of mine. I could feel the warmth of his breath through the mask. I opened my mouth wider, telling myself to just do it. I sucked on the glove lightly. “You can do better than that! Come on! The better you perform; the longer you may live. Make me proud,” he said, leaning up.

I sucked on the glove again— a little harder this time. He let his finger roam inside my mouth. I let my tongue slither around each finger, causing his dick to jump. I felt it move against my thigh. I looked down to see a tent growing in his jeans. Shit, it was big! Oh, no. I couldn't be thinking like this. What would Terry think of me?

“Don't worry you'll see it soon!” he said drawing my attention back to him. I realized that I had been unconsciously sucking on his fingers. He pulled the glove from my mouth and smeared my saliva all over my face and lips. “Sloppy. I like it!” he said, lightly tapping my cheek. “Imma let yo’ hands go. Don't do no stupid shit, okay?” he said. I nodded my head yes. What the fuck could I possibly do in this situation?

He released my hands. I instantly pulled them to my chest and began rubbing my wrists. “I'm sowwy. I shouldn't have been so rough when you're so soft and…” he said trailing his hands down my chest to cup both of my breasts. The material of the gloves felt smooth against my nipples, causing me to let out a soft moan. He broke from his trance and focused on my face again. I know he heard it. Why was I moaning from this? What the hell was going on with my body?

“Listen to me. If you promise to be nice, I'll let you live. Who knows maybe you can be my sex slave or something!” he chuckled deeply. “As if I have a choice,” I whispered turning my head. “Well, you're right about that. Shall we begin?” he asked clapping his hands. “Begin?” I asked confused. All I could see was his facial features shift under his mask. He was smiling— no he was grinning. A big sinister grin was spread across his face. He was about to enjoy whatever came next.

He lifted his hips and repositioned himself between my legs. He grabbed the back of my knees and pushed them up to my chest using one hand. With the other, he undid his belt buckle and pants. He didn't even care to pull them down completely. I watched as he grabbed his dick at the base. I immediately knew where this was going. I tried to push my legs back down, but even when using one hand he was stronger than me. He leaned over me and slapped his dick on my clit. It was heavy and hard as a brick. “Remember what I said. The better you perform…,” he said letting his thoughts trail off.

In one quick thrust, he was inside me— deep. My arms flew up trying to push his chest. “Don't do that!” he cooed. “Behave. I promise to make it worth your while,” he lulled, dodging my hands. It was like he didn't give a fuck about me fighting back. He was too focused on—. “Fine. Have it your way!” he barked.

He grabbed my hands and pinned them above my head. With his teeth, he snatched the glove from his other hand. He threw it behind him. I could feel his dick twitching inside me. He grabbed my neck and began pounding into me. I gasped for air. How was he switching back and forth like that? He was nice one second, then aggressive the next. This man was a fuckin’ psychopath.

His hips snapped into my ass. “If you want me to stop, stop me!” he laughed. I knew I couldn't. I had tried and tried again. “Come on! Do something!” he yelled in my face. I was done. My blood boiled and fear went out the window for a second. “Fuck you! Kiss my fat black ass!” I yelled pushing my thighs down as hard as I could. He falls back onto his hands. I used this as an opportunity to scramble away. “Arghhh, you stupid bitch! Tell me what’re you gonna do? Huh? You can't run. You can't hide. No one can hear you!” he yelled waving his arms around. Again, he was right. What the fuck could I do?

I sat there for a minute with my back turned away from him. I was on my knees crying into my hands. Each sob racked through my body. An idea jumped into my head— this would either kill me or save me. I didn't know what to do, but I did know what I had to do. ONE FINAL TRY.

I turned on my knees to face him. “So, you're saying that… if I… if I let you do it, you'll let me live?” I asked gasping for air in between sobs. “I'm a man of my word, love,” he said sweetly. I covered my body, waiting for his next move. “Fine! Just do it,” I said getting on my hands and knees and slowly crawling toward him. I was a few feet from him when he told me to stop. I looked up to see him twirling his finger. “Turn around. You're pretty and all, but I'm sick of your face,” he spat with disgust. I turned around and sat on my knees.

He climbed behind me. His presence alone swallowed my frame. I was a big girl, but that meant nothing right now. He pushed me forward. “Ass up, face down. Don't make me repeat myself!” he yelled smacking my ass. He was sitting between my knees with his hands by his side. I got on all fours in front of him. I heard him scoff and grunt. “Fix ya’ arch. If I gotta fix it, you're not gonna like it. Let's go!” he yelled.

I arched my back and pushed my ass into the air. Without realizing how close I was, my ass grazed his dick. He growled in response. I looked over my shoulder at him. “What the fuck did I say? I don't wanna see ya’ face. Turn around!” he yelled popping my ass again. I screamed out in pain.

“Oh, shut up! It didn't hurt!” he said laughing at me. I started to sit up, but he pushed me back down. “What you movin’ for? I'm just kiddin’,” he said playfully. This man was confusing the hell out of me. How did he expect me to react? There was nothing funny about this. I moved away from his hand before he could react. “Alright, damn! I'm sorry. You know what? No, I'm not. I'm sick of your shit, you disrespectful bitch! I’ve tried being nice to you, but you don't seem to give a fuck. Why should I?” he snapped while grabbing my hair. His other hand forced my ass to meet his hips. “We're gonna learn that attitudes don't work around here!” he said thrusting back inside of me. I could feel the thickness of his dick inside me. It was clear that this was turning him on.

I felt his hand slide up my back to my shoulder. He was pulling me back on him now. He was pounding into me like I was a sex doll. I could feel my pussy beginning to ache already. As if he could sense my discomfort, he paused. Letting go over my hair and shoulder, he placed both hands beside me. He was on top of me now. Fuck! I needed to get on my back.

He began to grind his hips into me slowly. What was he doing? He leaned over so that his mouth was near my ear. The mask was warm from his breath. “Better?” he asked seductively while fucking into me. It was as if his voice had changed, and lust had taken over. It wasn't raspy anymore. It was deep and soft— smooth like velvet. “Answer me. Is this better?” he asked, pulling his dick out to the tip. “Yes,” I moaned out. It was like I couldn't control it. It was starting to feel good. “Yeah, that's what I wanna hear,” he said, pushing his dick back in. He was kissing my cervix and bottoming out with every stroke. He was honestly fucking so well. I hated this. I wasn't supposed to enjoy this, but I couldn't help it. His dick felt amazing inside me. Every stroke felt like— love. How?

“That's right. Take it. You got it,” he said. My eyes started to roll in the back of my head as I could feel his dick swelling inside me. He leaned back up and grabbed my hips. The movement of his hips was slow and—. “Ahh, shit! Wait!” I said putting my arms out to the side. I flattened my body against the ground. I was yearning for something to grab. My hands dug into the dirt of the barn floor.

“Come on. I'm so close, baby. Fuck!” he said quickening his pace. His hips were snapping into me at this point. I could feel the gentle caress of his balls slapping my clit. “This pussy is mine!” he groaned, fisting the hair at the back of my head. He pressed my head into the floor.

As his hips shifted to pound down into me, he brought one leg up so that he was kneeling. My pussy began to clench around his dick. I could feel my climax approaching. The wetness of my pussy was working against me. He was sliding in and out of me with ease. My pussy was begging for a release. I needed to cum so that I could come to my senses.

His dick was throbbing inside of me. Oh, he was close, and I wanted him to c—. No, I didn't want that. I didn't want him to do that— not inside me, but it was TOO LATE! His hips snapped into my ass with force. He grabbed my hips and pulled me onto him. He held me there, releasing every ounce of his nut inside of me.

“Ahhh, fuck! That pussy was nice. Can I keep you?” he asked letting go of me. I let my body collapse onto the ground. “One more,” I said turning to face him. “What?” he asked confused. “I didn't finish. I wanna cum,” I said pouting. I needed him to trust me because I needed this plan to work. “Can't get enough, huh?” he said, pushing me on my back. I let my legs fall open so that he could see just how wet my pussy was. I needed him to lose focus.

“Oh, you nasty slut. You like this shit! Don't you?” he asked, slapping his dick on my clit. He rubbed his dick through the mixture of our cum that was spilling out of me. He sat his dick at my entrance. “Beg, bitch! You want it so bad. Beg for this dick!” he growled, holding his dick at the base. Pride was out the door at this point. There was no turning back. “Please, I need it. Make me cum. That's all I want. Just make me cum. You..,” I said but before I could finish he forced his dick inside of me. “Ahhh!” I said moaning out.

As much as I wanted to hate this, it felt so good. His dick was hitting every spot and scratching every itch. My pussy was creaming around him, and I was leaking like a faucet. He leaned over me, placing his hands on both sides of my head. I could hear our hips slamming into each other. I rubbed my hand up his chest. I grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer. I could feel every breath he took on my face.

He threw his head back in bliss. I was chasing two dragons at once— an orgasm and the key to my freedom. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper. I could feel my orgasm approaching. “I'm about to nut!” I yelled, gripping the back of his head. I placed my head on his shoulder. I could see it. IT WAS RIGHT THERE! I let my orgasm take over and began clenching and unclenching my walls to push him into his. His strokes got sloppy, and his hips stiffened. He dropped his head on my shoulder, letting his weight fall onto me. This was it— my only chance.

I slid one of my hands down his back while keeping the other pressed to the back of his head. “Stay in me, please,” I begged. I didn't need him to move. As my hand got closer to his waistband, I felt it— the knife! I gripped the handle and pulled it from his waistband. I pulled my legs under me so that they were pressed against his chest and kicked him as hard as I could. Knife in hand, I jumped on him before he could react. Pressing the knife against his throat, I began to speak. “Tell me why I shouldn't?” I yelled. “Because…,” he said, struggling to find an answer. “Take off the mask!” I demanded. “What?” he asked. “You heard me! Bitch!” I yelled back, pressing the knife deeper into his neck. I could feel his heart racing. Wasn't shit funny to him now. “Aight, damn!” he yelled while slowly removing the mask. His hands tossed the mask away from us.

What a sight?! I leaned in closer, turning the blade on its side. “Any last words?!” I snarled. He lay there quietly. “None. Fine with me!” I said, fisting the knife. “I just hope you know how special you are, Mama. Oh, and my girlfriend gone kick yo’ ass!” he screamed.

“Terry!” I said pouting. He grabbed my face and pulled me in for a kiss. “All you had to do was keep acting scared. Dammit!” I said pushing away from him. I was straddling his waist with my arms folded across my chest going into full brat mode. “I'm sorry! You said the code word for ending the scene, Mama. How was I supposed to know you wanted to keep going?” he asked grabbing my chin. “You ruined the fun,” I said dropping my arms. “Did I though?” he asked taking one of my nipples into his mouth. “You still got one more in you?” he asked, releasing my nipple from his mouth. “How the fuck am I supposed to say no?” I asked leaning in to kiss him and dropping the knife.

He placed his arm around my waist and lifted my hips. He reached his hand between us, guiding his dick inside me. “Ouu, shit!” I moaned into his mouth. “Come on, Mama. You got it. Make Daddy proud!” he said smiling. I pushed him back onto the ground. “Here comes, Big Mama!” I yelled, giggling. I hopped onto my feet and started bouncing on his dick. My hips smashed down into his. I leaned over and began kissing his neck. “Let me have it, Mama. Let's go!” he yelled, smacking my ass. Terry let out the sweetest moan as his head dropped back. His eyes rolled into the back of his head.

Fuck, I couldn't help myself. Look at him. Eyes rolling. Toes curling. Moaning to the gods. Yeah, I did that! Me!

“You like that? Huh?” I asked, placing my hand on Terry's neck. I pressed down on the front of his throat. Terry's eyes shot open and his hand reached for mine. “Don't you fuckin' dare!” I said, slowing down my hips and gripping his dick with every grind. “Fuck!” Terry said letting his hands fall. “Nah, look at me. Ain't that what you said?” I taunted while gripping his neck even tighter. “Ahh, fuck. I love you!” he screamed out. “Yeah, I wanna hear that shit. Eyes on me!” I said, mocking him. His eyes opened slowly as his breathing became ragged. I could feel his heart racing under the palm of my hand. I held the grip on his neck with the other.

The sound of my ass colliding with his hips echoed through the barn. “Give me it, Daddy!” I said, releasing his neck. I sat up straight and began to ride Terry like the stallion he is. “Ahh, that's… oh, fuck! Here it comes!” Terry said, grabbing my hips and holding me in place. His hips froze as he squeezed my waist. I felt every drop of his cum paint the inside of my walls. I giggled into my hand and said, “Oh, I'm not done!”

Terry's face was overcome with shock. “You heard me,” I said, rocking my hips. “Fuck it. It's all you, Mama,” he said, collapsing backward. “Oh, I know!” I said cockily. That's when I noticed Terry was smirking. “You just don't know when to stop, huh?” he said grabbing my hips and lifting me off of him. He pushed my body over his chest so that my pussy was directly over his mouth. His tongue immediately found my clit. I was definitely about to cum from this. His mouth covered the sensitive bud as he sucked.

I felt his hands rubbing and squeezing my ass. I fell forward and began grinding against his face. I felt Terry's lips curl into a smile. “I'm about to cum,” I announced loudly. Terry popped my ass and held me down, encouraging me. His tongue slithered along my entrance. He was missing it on purpose, teasing me. I whined like a bitch. Moans were leaving my mouth repeatedly. His tongue finally found its way into my pussy. I clenched as I felt my orgasm approaching. “Ah, fuck!” I yelled, leaning up and straddling Terry's face. He removed his tongue and began sucking on my clit again. That's what did it. I came all over Terry. “Ugh… mmm. Fuck, Daddy!” I moaned through my orgasm. I could hear him laugh from underneath me. “Damn you!” I yelled, climbing off of Terry's face. “I love you, too. Mean ass!” he said. “I guess I love you,” I said, laughing while leaning over to kiss Terry’s lips.

Taglist: @brattyfics @avoidthings @cocooned-butterfly @5headsupremacist @creartivefairy @miyuhpapayuh @megamindsecretlair @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaxwrites @jimmybutlrr @lovey-3 @curvyambitions @deja-r @hoouno06 @insidefeelingofanadult @slutsareteacherstoo @ariiijestertheklown

@armandosbabymama @gg-trini @skyesthebomb @blowmymbackout @blackerthings @mymindisneverhere @iburias @androgynousgaz @becauseimswagman1 @geee3bayyybeee3 @gwenda-fav @poektiou624 @keyaho

@pocketsizedpanther @sageispunk @charismablu @4ftwonder @ineedmyaccountback @rebelrel0987 @4pfsukuna @writingsbytee @nayaesworld

@blyffe @helloncrocs @amyhennessyhouse @beenathembo @thiccc-c @babybratzmaraj @pinkpantheris

@qtmkenedy03 @honeytoffee @talkswithdesi

[peppertoastuniverse]

more than a late night snack: – gojo satoru chapter 1: udon

contents: gojo satoru x reader, slice of life, fluff, tw!ptsd, gojo being annoying, gojo calls you babe

summary: reeling from your last mission, gojo irritatingly persuades you to make udon. you reluctantly learn to appreciate his company while gojo unexpectedly gets to know you better.

wc: 3.3K

“his presence was so lively that he couldn’t help but take up space even in his silence. you weren’t sure if it was the warmth of the udon comforting you or his presence.”

previous chapter ll master list ll next chapter

the dark shadows of the halls welcomed you as you dragged your tired body towards your room. resting your head on your closed door, you try to ease the fresh guilt in your mind after having to wake ieri at this ungodly hour.

sorry ieri.

you make a mental note to pick up something for her this week as a thank you.

ever since your recent promotion, the higher ups have gotten increasingly comfortable sending you out on longer missions. this one was a doozy – 3 weeks, the longest you’ve ever been away. Shirakawa was beautiful albeit too quiet, the chaotic cacophony that made up Tokyo was more comforting to your ears. It was a long and arduous 3 weeks, multiple curses with multiple people involved – you were nearing your limit and were ready to be consumed by your fluffy bed. exhausted. running on empty. you felt like your body was going to give out, exhausted by even the thought of having to shower. but deep down, it was the slow growing hollow feeling in your bones that you were concerned with. you were worried that it would devour you from the inside out until there was nothing left of you.

your head pulsed against the your still closed door, groaning softly as you superficially attempt to calm your irregularly beating heart. it was a new rhythm that you were strangely getting more and more acquainted, you were almost thankful for the noise – it was a reminder that you were still alive. you were even grateful for your audible panting for if it got too quiet you could still hear the screams of helplessness, see the massacred bodies, feel the adrenaline spikes accompanied by the burn of your lungs and –

the bandaged wound on your side jolts alive, a reminder of your service – your duty. a promise. growing pains sucker punch you back into the darkness of reality. glazed eyes glance down at your whitening knuckles, gripping the door knob.

breathe. nothing can hurt you, you’re safe. just breathe.

the rustle of an opening door shakes you out of the corners of your messy mind.

“well, well, well – look who’s still alive! how was the mission, babe?”

just fucking breathe.

you groan in annoyance.

ugh babe? ugh. not this. not right now. what was he doing up at this hour?

gojo’s voice was too cheerful, his taunting smile was too sharp for your dulled senses. you didn’t have the stamina for this right now.

“m’ not in the mood, gojo,” you mutter, voice foreign to your own ears. the hollowness threatened to spill into waking reality. opening the door with a click, you quickly turn your weary body away from the tall, lanky boy. wanting to hide yourself from him, you retreated into to the familiar darkness of your room. but before you could shut the door, an irritating foot stops the final barrier from closing.

“i’m hungry.”

you stare at him like he grew two heads – finally something to accurately represent his gigantic ego. what was he playing at? dark glasses slightly down his slender nose and unphased gojo takes a quick peek at your inscrutable stare, meeting it with a cheeky smile before speedily waltzing into your room and diving aggravatingly onto your neatly made bed.

“uuuuughhhhhhh gojo – oh my god – can you not – “

eyebrows furrowing, you run a hand through your unruly hair in irritation. you were home for a mere hour and you already wanted to strangle him – a new record. with someone blessed with six eyes, he truly couldn’t see a thing. blind to the little things, too preoccupied focusing on a bigger picture…and that bigger picture right now was to annoy you.

gojo had a playfulness that was usually more tolerable– but not tonight. tonight you were nearing a cliff and gojo was shoving you closer and closer to the edge of insanity.

he whines your name. “i said, I’m hungry,” he repeats stretching his long legs out, making himself comfortable on your bed.

“okay, so that’s my problem – why?” rolling your eyes as you walk deeper into your room, switching on the bedside lamp. a warm light illuminates the room, simultaneously emphasising your fatigue while radiating gojo’s mischief. his loose t-shirt rides up slightly as he picks up the pink bunny plushie on your bed – a gift from geto for your birthday.

“come with me to the convenience store?” he holds the bunny’s hands together in a begging motion, “pleasepleasepleaseplea–“ voice pitched up two octaves.

“no. go by yourself!” you huff as you rummage through your dresser finding some soft shorts and a baggy t-shirt before sitting on your bed, making sure to keep your distance from the white haired intruder in your room. you stare at him irritatingly, testily bouncing your knee up and down.

“but I want someone to come with me!” the bunny says with a hand on it’s hip, the other pink plush arm moving a long ear out of his face impatiently.

“then go wake up geto!” you snap. he whines your name as he aggressively hugs your bunny plushie.

“he left for a mission yesterday… and anyway I want you to come with me. c’mon just this once? I know you must be hungry. I can hear the ol’tummy grumbly grumble from hereeeeee.”

gojo’s pale face pouts with a frown at your silence. “c’mon look! you’re making Bun Bun sad, look at him – he’s crying!” gojo moves the bunny’s little hands over its face, the plushie’s sweet little body hunched over.

god damn. Bun Bun was actually crying. shit, you had to act fast.

irritated you rub your eyes, your headache was slowly building to a peak and your patience was running dangerously thin. if you didn’t stop him from whining, you’d just have to kill him.

“uuughhhh why don’t I just cook for us? I have shit in the fridge I think?,” you counter, desperately trying to find a way to stop his grovelling instantly.

he hesitated, considering your offer.

you exhaled in relief, enjoying the sweet, sweet silence. the joy of the almost absence of gojo.

but it was over too soon. “huh. I didn’t know you were the cooking type,” gojo counters with a questioning expression on his boyish face. he shifted slightly snuggling into your fluffy pillows.

“yeah, sure. I can cook,” you mumble, massaging your temple. you were not really paying attention to what he was saying, you were busy trying to convince yourself that this was the better option than murdering satoru gojo.

gojo impatiently uses one of your bunny’s stumpy pink arms to annoyingly paw at your cheek while you were in thought. “…so is that a yes to food?”

when did he get so close? ugh.

you slap his arm away, abruptly standing, stomping your way towards your bathroom.

“...babe? I said, is that a yes to food?”

wincing as you move to unbutton your uniform jacket aggressively, exposing a flimsy tank underneath you turn to him.

you watch as gojo’s bright eyes stare at your healing wound briefly before taking in your figure, gawking at the sight of your chest before a cocky smile paints his pale face, his ears going slightly pink.

“oOoOoh do you need me to help undress–“

“get out.”

“but what about – “

“fine- fucking fine! just leave – now.”

his lanky body springs up from your bed in victory. gojo gently lays down your bunny on the bed whispering “see Bun Bun? I knew we’d win. I always do.” kissing the top of his little head, before swiftly walking out of your room with a bright smile, “meet you in the kitchen!”

shaking your head as you into the bathroom, you turn on the shower faucet and can’t help but notice the growing silence in his absence. looking into the mirror before getting into the shower, you were surprised to find the ghost of the smallest grin on your face as well.

you walk into the kitchen with wet hair and comfy clothes to find gojo rummaging through the fridge. his tall frame hunched over, inspecting a jar of kimchi while he was humming what you recognized was the digimon theme song. the light of the refrigerator illuminated his firm, muscular body while you noticed that his eyes were now free from his usual dark glasses. his stark white hair tousled more messily than usual, courtesy of the habit that you recognized was from gojo running his hands through his hair.

joining him at the fridge, you ignore the warmth radiating off his body, and bump your hip to shove him out of the way. you hear his amused scoff and feel his judgey eyes on you. undaunted by his stare, you rustle in the fridge to find what you need.

placing a bundle of green onions and udon on the kitchen counter, you begin to fill a small pot with some water from the sink. you eye gojo expectedly, his hands deep in the pockets of his shorts, his head tilted curiously watching you.

was this asshole expecting you to do all the work? this fucking guy.

you jut out your elbow poking his firm side as he dramatically pouts at you, whining your name. you roll your eyes and place the pot on the stove.

“grab the dashi, mirin and soy sauce in my cupboard. then add some of each to this pot once the water boils,” you directed stiffly, beginning to finely chop the green onions.

perhaps mercifully sensing your quickly depleting energy, gojo dutifully returns with the ingredients and wordlessly does what you instructed. as he stirs the dashi, soy sauce and mirin into the broth, you add the udon, stirring with chopsticks separating the noodles carefully.

gojo begins rambling on about the increasing price of his favourite convenience store cake roll and how it’s still worth it because “…the Hokkaido whipped cream on the inside totally justifies the price increase. it really makes a difference, it’s so much richer, and that texture?! mmmpfffffhhh, it’s so fucking good, babe…”

you scrunch your nose in disgust at his overly enthusiastic moan.

gross. dude it’s just food.

“gojo, stop with the babe.”

“ehhh! what?? why? that’s you,” he pouts, moving one of hands on his hips while stirring the pot absentmindedly.

“i never agreed to that! anyway, I thought that was what you called geto,” reaching over, lowering the heat of the stove.

“nah, babe – suguru’s baby. you’re babe. big diff.” he explains leaning closer to you, eyes waiting for your challenge. but before you could argue, he was off rambling about his favourite cake rolls once again.

“… did ya hear that they were going to come out with a few new flavours? I know, crazy right? matcha and sesame!! wonder if it’ll be better than the original, i mean it’s hard to beat an icon. say… d’ya remember that one time – wait were you there that time? … or was it shoko? nah, it was probably shoko, I would’ve remembered if you were with us, babe. anyway, this one time I ate 6 of the cake rolls in one sitting and suguru – hey! are you listening to me?”

gojo cant help but drink in your appearance- were you paler than usual? your frame slightly swayed from exhaustion while you gently stirred the udon, staring into the bubbling broth mindlessly. your hair was still damp from your recent shower and you smelled slightly of lavender and vanilla. you smelled sweet, he wouldn’t mind smelling like you. he noticed how you’d favour your left side due to the wound, slightly wincing if you turned... it must have been pretty bad if shoko couldn’t heal it fully outright. but what worried him most was your almost unfamiliar eyes. you clearly weren’t listening to him, eyes dull, unfocused - there was no one there. usually your eyes were bright, full of life like when the early moon would illuminate the waves of the ocean. subtle and peaceful at first glance but vibrant and beautiful at a second glance. what he liked best was there was a sliver of rebellious glee in your gaze. a fleeting instance of chaotic delight. he caught a glimpse of it when you and shoko brainstormed lies to tell yaga to get out of training so you both could get that new blush in shinjuku, or when you finally pinned suguru for the first time after trying for months. gojo couldn’t help but be curious about your elusive nature. but currently your eyebrows furrowed like you were thinking about some that physically pained you, consumed by the chaos within.

“… uh hey – maybe you should sit down, babe. you don’t look so good right now..”

“oh now he’s concerned.” you quip. it didn’t take six eyes to see that your body was slowly reaching its limit. scrunching your eyes shut, tossing your body onto the nearest chair with a sigh. you weren’t in the mood to argue any longer.

he cringed slightly before softly protesting “hey. i knew you were fine - ”

“uh huh. don’t forget to add the green onions on top.”

“oh so bossy! but don’t not worry, I like-”

“gojo, can you like.. not be yourself for just 10 minutes? my head is killing me right now… please?” you interrupt his yapping, placing your pounding forehead on the table.

gojo snickers as turns his back from you, gently stirring the bubbling pot. he carefully places a bowl of steaming udon topped with green onions in front of you as well as a pair of chopsticks and a spoon. saying your thanks, you dip your spoon into the soup, swirling the clear broth. you watch the green onions float to the top. gathering the broth in your spoon, you almost groan as the warmth of the broth gently eases the pounding of your head while the light saltiness satisfyingly leaves a warm trail of comfort as it slid down your throat. glancing over at gojo curiously, you watch as he blows on his steaming noodles pinched between his chopsticks, slurping loudly before his eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

pretty tasty, eh?

you and gojo eat in silence, the slurping of noodles enough of a conversation between you. admittedly, it was nice being in his company when he was quiet. his presence was so lively that he couldn’t help but take up space even in his silence. you weren’t sure if it was the warmth of the udon comforting you or his presence.

you’ve had udon like this before - just a few day ago a cute little grandma in Shirakawa made you the very same dish in her home. you could still feel her pleased smile as you complimented her cooking for the first time, the rasp in her voice when she protested when you helped her clean up, the warm touch of her wrinkly hands when she brushed the hair out of your face, the smell of her cozy house on fire, her blood staining –

putting down your chop sticks with more force than intended, you push the rest of your unfinished bowl towards gojo, his large hands instantly accepting the bowl without question. you feel the brush of his warm fingers against your cold shaking ones against the smooth porcelain of the bowl. hesitating at his touch briefly, you move quickly to creating more distance between the two of you.

“… where’d you learn to cook like that?’’ gojo questions through a mouthful of udon, unshaken.

“it’s just udon, gojo. it was really simple.”

“yeah.. but just because something is simple doesn’t mean it isn’t good! your mom teach you?”

“mnm, something like that. I’d used to watch my mom cook when I was younger. she hated cooking but begrudgingly learned because she had feed us. I guess she saw it as her duty as a mother.” you mused eyes closed.

“well, that’s stupid. she could have just bought food or hired a chef or something if she really hated it, couldn’t she?”

you huff in amusement, “you’re such a brat, y’know?”

“i’m just saying!! you shouldn’t have to do things that you don’t want to do.” gojo exclaims, putting down his spoon beside his second empty bowl.

“i mean, she did hated it. absolutely hated it but…her love for us was just stronger than her hate of the task. she learned our favourites and adjusted recipes to our liking, even though it would’ve been more work for her.”

“sounds like a dedicated woman.”

“she was, yeah. did … your… uh mother cook you dinner when you were a kid?” you realised you didn’t know anything about gojo’s family. you heard about his clan – the strength, power and influence that his family had – but you realised he never spoke about his family. his mother or his father, anyone at all. did he have any siblings? was he like his family? was he closer to his mother or his father? did he have his mother or father’s eyes? by name he was gojo, a part of a prestigious, ancient family but by spirit maybe… maybe he was just satoru.

oh god. imagine if his whole family was like him. your eyes narrow at the thought.

he hums thoughtfully, fiddling with his chopsticks, picking at the abandoned green onions in the bowl. “nah, the chef would make food for us, that was always good. but… my mother… she did make me dango one time.”

“is.. that your favourite dessert?”

“when she made it, it was.”

a silence fills the room, a thoughtful silence. when you dared to look into his eyes. there was something there that you didn’t recognize, the blue in his eyes was softer, more vulnerable. the usual mischievous spark behind his smile was missing, replaced with a forlorn thoughtfulness that you never associated with gojo.

this.. was new. you rest your heavy head on your palm and sighed. maybe there was more to gojo than cockiness, bravado and sheer power.

“Is that why you like cooking? reminds you of her?” gojo asks breaking the pregnant pause, drumming his fingers on the table.

“...babe? babe, you really gotta work on your listening skil-“ he peers across the table at your slumped figure, mouth slightly opened, breathing slowed with your head on the table.

gojo leans across the table to take a closer look at your face. it was a rare sight seeing you so defenseless, unshielded by your protective barriers you would put up around everyone. but even in sleep you still looked troubled, brows furrowing slightly. what was going on in that head of yours? gently, he touched the crease in between your eyebrows and chuckled when your face instantly relaxes to his touch. he smiles.

you could smell the blood sticking to your uniform, the screams of the villagers, their mutilated bodies beneath your feet as a disembodied hand reaches to grab your throat, squeezing painfully -

you jolt awake with a gasp, your soft comforter crumpling beside you. a thin sheen of sweat decorated your forehead. clammy fingers combing through your messy hair to self soothe.

you were in your room. you were safe. the sunlight across your wall indicated that it was probably early afternoon. you were alive.

but how.. how did you get here? did gojo.. carry you? ugh, god that’s embarrassing.

you put your head in your hands, groaning at the awkwardness. you reach on your beside table to grab your phone but you notice that Bun Bun was leaning against your lamp, posed to hold a hastily scribbled note with familiar handwriting:

thanks for the udon, babe xxxxx ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

beside the note was a cake roll.

rubbing the restlessness out of your eyes you wondered how someone who talked so much could make your busy head so quiet. scoffing at his antics, you smile.

a/n: gojo would 100% die for Bun Bun. woo hoo! it's here – thank you for all the support and love so far 🥺💓 -- head image credit: Poco's Udon World dividers from: @/adornedwithlight

[ghostfacesvalentine]

How do you not fall in this thing? - Billy Loomis x Short!Reader (1/15)

Pairing: Billy Loomis x Fem!Reader, I tried my best to make it GN, but just to be safe, I’ll label it as fem.

Warnings: Y/N knows Billy and Stu are the Ghostface killers, slight mention of Y/N joining the boys, nothing graphic really.

Type: Blurb

Request: N/A

Word Count: 589

Prompt: “Look at you. So small and cute, huh?” “Shut the hell up.” Y/N discovers Billy’s one of the ghostface killers, opts to try on the costume.

Notes: I wanted to do a mini series based off these prompts here. They’re super cute. I was just talking to my s/o about how I will lie about my height whatever chance I can get. I’ll add two inches, so this makes sense to me, naturally.

To say you were over the shock over Billy and Stu being the Woodsboro ghostface was an understatement. You had a small inkling that they’d be the ones to be dumb enough to massacre the student body, but also smart enough to get away with it for this long.

You were sitting on Billy’s bed, feeling his eyes lock onto your figure as you examined the generic Halloween cloth before your lap. It was such a cheap costume idea, there was no actual way to trace it back to either of the boys, they were fucking geniuses. So far, at least.

Your eyes trailed up to see Billy, leaned against his door frame, watching your fingers line the seams of the costume. 

“How do you not fall in this thing?” 

You wondered out loud as you stood up, pressing the costume against your chest, looking to the half mirror before his bed. Hearing a chuckle, you kept your eyes on yourself, wondering if you could be the third killer on the loose. 

Probably not, your clumsiness would be their downfall. Somehow you managed to be less coordinated than Stu, if you joined, you three would be in a cell block or a padded room in no time.

“Stu did. Still does a few times.” You heard the amusement in Billy’s tone as you shifted your body, side to side attempting to imagine yourself in it. The actual killers costume.

Your hands began to shift through the fabric, seeking for the holes to snuggle your head through. Without even asking, you slipped it on.

“Oh god, you look like Wednesday Addams trying on Morticia’s clothing” Billy snorted as he looked to your figure loosing itself in the robes. Your eyes darted to a laughing Billy Loomis. Narrowing your eyes, you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, crossing your arms as you looked at him.

“It’s not that bad-” You fought, your hands gathering the fabric towards the sides of your legs, trying to find your footing.

To no avail, you fumbled forward, catching yourself with the end of Billy’s bed. It was dramatic sure, but you didn’t expect your feet to get this tangled up in such a measly costume.

Putting on the ghostface mask was a dead no, you could barely manage with part one of the attire, there was no way you could comfortably wear the whole thing.

Everything was draping, the sleeves, the legs, you could barely shift around in it, but that didn’t stop you from trying to prove a point to a giddy Billy.

“Look at you. So small and cute, huh?” 

Your cheeks became hot, contorting your mouth to hide a smile as you looked down to the ends of the ensemble. 

“Billy. Shut the hell up. Now help me out of this thing.”

You scolded in defeat, standing in one place as Billy walked towards you. Too busy trying to shift the ends you were fumbling your feet over, you didn’t even notice the mask in Billy’s hands, tucked away behind his back.

When he stood behind you, you looked up, trying to find his face only to see a devious smile reflected in the mirror. Before you could utter a word, your frown soon disappeared into a cloth. 

It smelt like blood and sweat, gross.

“Billy!” 

You wailed, trying to find the ends of the sleeves to use your hands. Though it seemed like the costume covered everything, it definitely didn’t cover your ears from listening to Billy’s snort again.

[martialartslover7]

In defense of Sasuke Uchiha (Blank Period)

Another rant post of mine. Hoo boy.

Like, I don't know about you guys, but, honestly, Sasuke should have returned to the Leaf village, regurlarly, after the war. Not after months or years, and here is why: Sasuke may have chosen to leave the village and become a rogue ninja, but never forget...

...he is as much of a victim, as the rest of the entire Uchiha clan (safe for Madara and Obito), and the Leaf village, in the grand scheme of things. He was never the problem.

Remember, Sasuke wouldn't have even defected in the first place, had the Konoha elders not been such an ignorant and stubborn bunch, that is both stuck in the past, and unable to move on. Remaining bitter towards the Uchiha, until they get laid to rest in their coffins. ...Our totally trustworthy leaders, everyone! Would you still apply for a job with them, after what they had done to the Uchiha?

Here is a thing, if they were fine with the Uchiha getting sacrificed to "maintain peace" and wiping everything under the rug, too, where should we draw a line? Where does it stop? What other clan might have been next, had the Uchiha not been the ONLY ones to agree with a coup d'état? You really mean to tell me, neither of the clans, that had sensory abilities like the Hyuga, the Yamanaka, or even the Inuzuka, were ever made aware of this? This. Was. A. MASSACRE. This wasn't a spy operation, innocent civilians were slaughtered in the process, remember, not every Uchiha was even able to unlock their own Kekkei Genkai, so, the only logical conclusion is:

Either, Danzo might have blackmailed the other clans to shut their mouths about this incident, because, come on, NO ONE can tell me, the screams from men, women and infants, along with blood splatters, could have been missed so easily, I know the Uchiha were shoved into the very edge of the village, but what are the chances of this just getting ignored, just like that? Especially if you have the Byakugan, or you have a hound with you, like the Inuzuka?

The elders from each clan in Konoha were all in on this, as an orchestrated, planned event, choosing willingly to ignore it all, because hey, it's so convenient to just look away, when it doesn't concern your own clan, right?

This isn't the face of an "irredeemable piece of trash war criminal, who doesn't deserve forgiveness". This is the face of a man, who has seen and been told some shit, that cannot ever be unseen or unheard. Imagine being born into a world, where, the very second you drew breath, everyone hates you, just for existing, for things, you didn't even ask to be burdened with. Much less, when you were still a kid, too. And doing it in SECRET, no less. Dude. This doesn't take a genius to understand, how fucked right up this is.

Plus, am I the only one who finds it insanely shitty from either Naruto, Sakura or Kakashi, to never make any efforts to publically criticize or oppose the elders for what they have done to the Uchiha clan? Wanting to bring the truth about the entire clan to light, and put the elders and feudal lords on the spot? Just for the fact alone, that they never once tackled this subject during the Blank Period, is, to me, a very shitty thing to do, especially since Naruto prides himself the loudest on having made Sasuke come back to his senses, and yet, never once, does he challenge these old farts? Really? Maybe I am missing something, feel free to correct me, but from my memory, neither he, or Kakashi, when he was still Hokage, made ANY efforts to publically apologize to the Uchiha clan, or even so much as trying to build memorial stones for the deceased Uchiha, or hell, even Itachi (I think?). And yes, I know, the clan was at the verge of starting a civil bar, but again:

NOT ALL OF THEM. WERE FINE. WITH IT. ESPECIALLY CONSIDERING, IT ALL MOSTLY STEMMED FROM MADARA BEING A SORE LOSER, AND TOBIRAMA BEING A RACIST PIECE OF GARBAGE. AND A HUGE PORTION OF THE UCHIHA WERE NOT EVEN ASSIGNED SHINOBI. PRAY TELL, KILLING EVERYONE, BECAUSE OF A FEW ROTTEN APPLES MAKES EVERYTHING OK THEN?!?!?!?!?!

And Kakashi bears Obito's Sharingan, he is living evidence too, of what public scrutiny and scapegoating can do to a person! His life, is essentially no different from either Naruto or Sasuke, and yet, despite having taught Sasuke, and still loving him as a teammate, no, as FAMILY, he NEVER ONCE HELPED HIM GETTING HIS NAME CLEARED?! What the FUCK, Kishimoto?

Also, can I be honest? I hate Boruto, as a follow-up story, for a different reason altogether. That being:

It STILL pretends as if the Uchiha are "evil, by default", and the elders are still, somehow, by some twisted "miracle", "in power", during Naruto's and Kakashi's rule. I mean, just for the fact, that these dried up twigs still have any say, WHATSOEVER, even the tiniest bit of presence in ANY capacity, after all the vile shit that they have pulled, by siding with Danzo, and making backhanded deals with other villages, is enough of a reason for me to more than sympathize with Sasuke's decision to never truly consider this village home, because WHY WOULD HE? These assholes ruined his life, way before he was even born, and yet these same jesters expect Sasuke to live in seclusion, and in shame, over what his heritage has done, but taking accountability for their own actions? Pffft, noooo, why would they? Their reputation as "village leaders" is more important than confronting their own shortcomings...

So, no, after the war, Sasuke should have been given some form of leniency, with either Naruto, Sakura or Kakashi having gone off to spread the word to other nations that what he did, cannot easily be pardoned, but they at least, THE BARE MINIMUM, deserve to know and understand, WHY he did all this. This. THIS course of action would have been a serious love letter to Sasuke, a sign of appreciation that, no matter where he went, he will always matter, even if he believes himself to be undeserving of it, because: It just isn't productive to be leaving an already scarred individual like him in the mold of "all Uchiha, bad", because that just won't work out. Paying for his wrongs is one thing, but putting him, for the rest of his life, along with his future descendants in the "square of shame", is just plain pathetic. Sasuke deserves to have some peace and quiet, too.

Moral of the story: DO NOT. LET HISTORY. REPEAT ITSELF.

Look, this post is not meant to excuse anything Sasuke has done, I am only providing more context that explains, why I feel like, the story was doing him dirty, especially near the end of Shippuden and during the Blank Period. You can think whatever you want about him, I don't care, all I am saying is, even someone like him deserves some well-deserved closure, because, that never happened. The stigma has not disappeared, and it wasn't Sasuke's doing, it was Madara's, don't get that confused. Besides, go on, keep ignoring the concept of "from action, follows a reaction", just so you can keep twisting and turning it, to always make Sasuke appear like the bad guy. Keep doing. You're doing great. In exposing how stupid and ignorant you are, frankly put.

Sasuke deserves to live in peace, he deserves to be happy, and not live in another illusion of supposed "peace", when really, nothing has changed, he deserves better. And look, we can judge Itachi all we want, but in the end, he still loved his brother, and that remains forever, all he did, was for him, as twisted as his method ended up being. It still ended up saving lives. No one else deserves to bear such a burden. Which makes it even more imperative to not wipe something as important as this under the rug, because "the truth is too unpleasant". Case closed.

Peace.

[celestialseawitch-ff]

Under the Moon

Harry tugged on the thick iron cuff around his ankle. 

“Come on. Come on. Come on.”

It was getting darker in the forest now. The moon would be out soon.

Of all the ways to go, massacred by Fenrir Greyback hadn't really been on the list. Dementors had been higher up on the list. Actually, Seamus’ explosive magic during transfiguration class was higher than the famous werewolf.

Fenrir Greyback was a ghost story. He was the boogeyman under Remus Lupin's bed. He wasn’t supposed to be an actual threat to Harry. That honour was still tightly held by Voldemort.

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. 

The Death Eaters had come out of nowhere while he was at the park. He spent most of his summer there before being forced to return to the Dursleys. When he was younger, lingering around the house meant he'd get locked up under the stairs or forced to do labour. Now that he was older, loitering tended to get him beat with a belt. He could still feel the lashings healing on his back from his uncle's latest temper tantrum.

The Death Eaters pounced before Harry even knew they were there. One moment he was sitting alone in a park and the next thing he knew, he was wandless and unconscious on the floor of an unknown forest. 

Voldemort stayed only long enough to gloat.

“I want you to suffer,” he told Harry. “The way you have made me suffer for years.”

“Fuck you, Riddle,” Harry spat back.

Voldemort smiled coldly. “Let's see how much fight you have left in you when Greyback is done with you.”

Harry's eyes widened.

Voldemort's smile widened. “Oh yes,” he seethed as he bent down so they were eyelevel. “You've heard the stories, I'm sure. More wolf than man. Our furry cannibal is going to eat you piece by piece. He's special among wolves. He retains his human mentality and control without the Wolfsbane potion. He's assured me he'll make it a long, horrible process. You will live until just before dawn breaks. And then,” he clenched his fingers into a fist and Harry flinched, “he'll eat your heart out.”

“I thought you wanted to kill me.”

“My mind has finally settled since the restoration potion. The prophecy will shatter once you die. That's all that matters. Then the only one who can stop me is Dumbledore and he will be dead by the end of the year.”

“You can't beat the Headmaster.”

“I already have. He fell for a dark curse I cast as a young boy. It's poetic really. He was always so terrified of me as a boy. Now my youth will be his death.”

“Just let me go,” Harry pleaded quietly.

“You're the final piece, Harry. But how about this. If the prophecy is destroyed before you die, I'll let you live.”

“The prophecy was shattered during the battle.”

“Oh? Well, I suppose you'll die then.”

The Dark Lord stood and strode away. Harry closed his eyes and bit his tongue on the desperate pleas that bubbled up inside of him. They would fall on deaf ears. Voldemort had no pity. 

The air cracked with magic as he disapparated and Harry was alone.

He opened his eyes and glared at the metal cuff on his ankle. His skin was raw underneath and starting to bleed. His fingers had begun bleeding from tugging at the rough metal ages ago. Tears stained his cheeks.

He had never felt so hopeless. 

“Please,” he cried. 

His eyes fell shut and he prayed to every god and deity he could think of. The Weasleys worshipped a goddess, he knew. He thought it was a prank at first, but Hermione had looked unsurprised and curious at the revelation. He knew she'd read up on it. He wished he had too. 

“Please,” he begged into the forest as night began to fall. “Please. Please. I don't want to die.”

Not like this, came the unbidden thought. Because of course he was going to die. Probably soon. Probably painfully.

But not like this.

[sstardustt3]

-akira kurusu (joker) headcannons-

First of all, THEATER KID. 

You simply can not tell me that he is not an overdramatic theater kid who does the most at all times, especially when he was a kid.

But this led him to be seen as “odd” and outcasted by the people around him in the which made him extremely lonely, he wasn’t bullied but he didn’t have any friends 

Because of this he kinda closed himself off to fit more into the societal norms and not be seen as strange which is why he’s so quiet and keeps to himself all the time 

Which made him partially excited to go to shibuya because despite it being a pretty shitty situation, being on probation and arrested for something that wasn’t even his fault, he thought that maybe in the big city he’ll find some people that won’t think he’s weird and can open up to which he ended up getting with the thieves  but his hope was only temporarily diminished with his record being leaked

Holy fuck that was long but, moving on, I think he has a very poor relationship with his parents, especially after being convicted of assault.

I don’t think his parents hate him by any means but they’re definitely neglectful based on the fact joker doesn’t get a single call, text, or a letter from them

What i personally think is that his parents are the type of parents to do the bare minimum and do nothing else for him

In a sense his parents sort of gave up on him because of his “eccentric”  behavior and him getting arrested might have solififed that for that for them and even if not they’re definitely not on his side when it comes to the whole assault thing which could be why they never contact him

Okay the last two were pretty angsty but moving on,

He has like, zero experience with girls and he’s the most oblivious mf ever

And because he wasn’t really popular at his old school (for the aforementioned reasons) he got ZERO bitches, none, cero.

 This is actually another headcanon that i really don’t have an explanation for but when he moved way more girls started liking him because of people thinking he was this bad boy and he had NO idea how to deal with that

Like for a while he just thought people were just being weirdly nice to him

Like he is the type of guy who unintentionally flirty like just natural charisma with looks

Like you have to be insanely obvious for him to even take a hint

Adding onto the headcanon that you have to be insanely obvious to get him to notice that you like him, once he does realize  that you like him like one of two things is going to happen:

One, if your not that close than he has no idea what to do about that and he’s just slightly more awkward than usual

But two, if you are that close, he is BOLD. despite he is not knowing how to flirt for shit he is still charming enough that his horrible attempts at flirting and teasing somehow work

Because he has no cannon birthday other than the year he is born (2000) my personal thought is that he’s born on valentines day, there’s no elaboration for this one just a gut feeling

I feel like he has a vivid imagination of scenarios 

Like for example he can imagine an entire plot for a musical at three am and exactly how it would go

Morgana and sojiro have frequently told him to shut up and go to bed

Also he has insomnia. I just felt like I should throw that into there.

Him, sojiro, and futaba have movie nights once a weekend and ninety percent of the time it’ll be a horror, old movies, or a studio ghibli movie

Texas chainsaw massacre, kill bill, sadako vs kayako, jacobs ladder, don’t look up, my neighbor totoro, spirted away, sailor moon r, ponyo, etc

60 precent of the time futaba picks the movie

I have no explanation for this one but him in the metaverse is very much christian borle coded in a way i can’t explain i swear (please i beg of you listen to hard to be a bard from something rotten its so good)

.

[cherry-cosmoz]

Chapter 3 : new surroundings

This might be my favorite chapter 💪

You wake up in somebodies arms. Without a second thought think hard. You rip her right arm clean off. You scramble to your bag she was holding grabbing your dad’s gun from it and releasing 3 rounds into her skull. Out of breath you hear someone “h-holy fuck she absolutely slaughtered c-clockwork.” the crazed brunette looks at his now massacred ally “Big man wasn’t kidding when she said she was bat shit crazy” the man in the white mask spoke up. There was a man in a yellow hoodie and black mask but he stayed silent. “Who the fuck are you. Stay away from me!” She says The man with the white mask puts out his cigarette “listen kid you listen to us we might not hurt you” Fuck that! She snaps the twitchy brunettes leg. The silent hooded man quickly shot you in the thigh. The brunette twitching and laughing “picked the wrong p-person out the three m-missy, I can’t feel p-pain” he laughs some more The hooded man walks up to you and throws you over his shoulder. The twitchy brunette stuffs his hand in your jacket grabbing your phone. “L-let’s see what w-we have here” He clicks the camera roll “Fuck.” She says thinking of the previous selfies “Holy s-shit balls masky look at this shit!” The masked man speaks up “no shut up kid I don’t want to see selfies” well shit its kinda weird now who am i kidding they just watched you slaughter their friend. “N-no it’s d-different look!” The man you now know is masky looks at the photo of mel holding up a severed head and a peace sign “Huh maybe that’s why he wants her?” Melanie finally speaks up “I know what you’re looking at but 1 who wants me? 2 where is my dad.” the girl now worried on where her body bags were. “l-looking at it he’s d-dead” okay smart ass obviously hes fucking dead. “Yeah I know that fucktard where’s my bags with him inside of it” Masky speaks up “don’t know the rake will probably eat him” Melanie talks again “what the fuck is a rake” The hooded man finally speaks up “shut up bitch all you do is talk wait till we are done walking or something” Whatever it looked like there was a rickety cabin ahead. The rude hooded man throws Melanie down on the porch “Alright what are your god damn names I’ve already been shot and kidnapped” Melanie spoke “y-you broke my a-arm” the brunette spoke “YOU CANT FEEL PAIN DICK CHEESE” Melanie screams at him. “M-my names Toby and t-thats hoodie and t-thats-" before the brunnete finishes she cuts him off. “Masky I know, now why do you want me here.” the hooded man which is now known to go by "hoodie" speaks up again. "listen kid, WE don't want you here, the operator does." your now confused who the fuck is that. " the oper what?" masky goes to say something but the twitchy brunette cuts him off. "you know those weird slenderman stories" your still confused until you remember. earlier this year two girls stabbed their friend in the woods for that same man. " is this the same slenderman from the stabbing?" you think on how you hear about the girl that got stabbed 19 times and crawled out to get help purely running off of adrenaline. toby speaks again "ben told me about that. but yes its t-the same guy, those girls dont know what its like." well shit i know im gonna find out. "take her to EJ." alright who the fuck are all these people. we have operator, ben, and now letters. toby quickly gets closer and picks you up like a feather, he smells like pine,blood,and urine. not the best combo all i can hope is that they have showers. your thoughts were interrupted by your phone shaking violently, toby looks at it to see an elf looking entity "ben why are you in her phone." so theres one name off the checklist. "chill out man operator told me to do so and you know how it gets lonely in here" he says in a unserious puppy voice. "give me my phone" you snatch it out of tobys hands, before he could object a boy around your age pops out of your screen. "whats cookin good lookin" you couldnt help but giggle a little, meanwhile toby looks like lazari just ripped his heart out and ate it. he doesnt know why but hes...jealous?

[buckybarnesss]

on fire: a teen wolf novel chapters 7-9 chapters 4.6 here chapters 1-3 here

This is three chapters of everyone in Beacon Hill's Preserve where Allison loses her keys at an inconvenient time, Jackson is high key having a terrible, no good, very bad day and Derek's ass is clenched so tight he could produce diamonds.

Kate Argent is also here doing the most.

Here's another installment of Look At How They Massacred My Boy.

We open chapter once more with Allison and Scott. They are still in the preserve. Scott is smelling smoke which is making him twitchy due to the dream he had a few chapters earlier where everything was on fire. Allison is more concerned about losing cell reception. 

Allison uses Scott’s phone to call Lydia. Which reminds me of how my mother is able to get cell reception where she lives in the BFE with Verizon but I am unable to get cell reception with T-Mobile.

While Lydia and Allison are speaking Jackson sends Lydia the weakest fucking text of all time saying he’s okay but he just needed space and he’d be home soon. It’s fucking weak. Lydia is rightfully pissed.

Scott once again attempts to convince Allison that they should leave, especially now since Jackson should be headed home. Allison decides that since Lydia is covering for her that she and Scott should make out some more but thankfully reason takes over so they begin to head for her car. 

Now here’s an interesting thing that occurs. The moon affects Scott and it’s a choice I really like actually.  Allison and Scott are headed back and Scott has a moment:

“Moonlight shimmered on her face. And something changed.  Something in him. He felt it, almost like the skin on his face was too tight. His nails were pushing against his fingers.”

In the show, the moon does affect the werewolves outside of the standard full moon. Lunatic and Party Guessed are examples of how new wolves react to their first full moons, but I think the most significant example is in Lunar Eclipse where they lose their power for the duration of the eclipse and the supermoon in season 5. 

You know what this makes me think of? Avatar: The Last Airbender. Everything changed when the Fire Nation -- you know what. No. I’ll refrain. 

While Scott panics about possibly shifting in front of Allison we switch to Jackson having a minor emotional breakthrough while he’s lost in the woods but he keeps up his own dickishness to himself. Jackson please seek therapy.

Speaking of, this passage of his is when he goes on to talk about how his parents had actually placed him in therapy before the school year started. Jackson, of course, seemed to take the wrong thing from it though. Not that his parents explained it well. Like, they try but give him the explanation of it being a check up. Be honest with your kid and they won’t up believing they need to hide their own feelings from themselves while also internalizing the idea you don’t think they’re good enough.

Jackson’s also such a snob. He makes the decision to further shut out the therapist when he sees the state school diplomas calling them “low rent”. This fucker. 

Jackson continues to be lost and while he’s wandering around calling himself an idiot and all but describing the toxic af relationship he has with Lydia. If your significant other is punishing you that’s a yikes from me bro.

As he wanders he finds a little baby hawk. I’ve yet to work out the metaphor but I am sure there is one.

Chapter 8 continues with Jackson’s misadventure. Some girl that I suspect of being a werewolf shows up. Her name is Cassie. She says shit like “Oh it’s a hawk. It’s a predator.” and has a startling amount of eyeliner around her eyes. Jackson bro, please just leave. The red flags are on the play.

Ugh, we have returned to the Kate narration. I have never loathed a fictional character the way I do Kate Argent.

Kate’s just here being creepily ammo-sexual like she’s about to attend a MAGA rally and being obsessed with Derek Hale. Girl, get a fucking life.

Once Kate has checked off those boxes on her to-do list she turns her attention to antagonizing Victoria and Chris about Allison. Chris doesn’t give an inch. 

Then Kate does perhaps the bravest thing anyone ever does in the Teen Wolf universe and calls Victoria by the diminutive Vicky. Victoria should’ve poisoned Kate’s chicken is all I’m saying.

“Victoria Argent smiled coldly back at her and checked the oven. The aroma of baked chicken tantalized Kate’s senses.”

Kate then chooses violence and decides she’s going to check on Allison’s study date. God, what a bitch.

I don’t think I’ve mentioned but the entire time Scott, Allison and Jackson have been in the woods there’s been the smell of smoke hanging around. Jackson’s private eye meet up even had a campfire. This has put Scott on edge because of his dream from earlier where the forest was on fire.

Scott is having a rare moment where he’s vibing with being a werewolf. He talks about being able to smell mushrooms and damp earth, Allison’s shampoo, the smoke and the rain in clouds. 

Tehehehe. “He heaved with a sigh of relief, chased by a little thrill as she looked over her shoulder at him. In the world of high school, cars were like portable bathrooms. Except he didn’t want their first time to be in a car.”

Allison’s keys go missing because of course they do.

Scott suggests they call Stiles to come get Allison but she insists on staying and rightfully points out it’s her car so she’d be fucked if her dad found out. Scott uses his wolfie power to try to find her keys without Allison noticing.

Chapter 9 starts with Kate trying to catch Allison in a lie. Remember she decided to call to check upon her? Lydia’s doing the most here with conference calls and lying her ass off. 

Lydia out here asking the real questions “What is up with your aunt?”

We move back to Jackson’s plot. He’s still lost in the goddamn woods but now with the girl Cassie as company.

She’s clearly meant to be a distraction to Jackson to keep him from going home.

Cassie continues to act fucking weird. She tries to make a deal with Jackson about not telling anyone about him freaking out about the baby hawk they encountered if he doesn’t tell anyone about seeing her. Not sus at all. 

She then kisses him.  

Jackson is understandably high key freaked out yet tries not to show it and is weirdly nice to her about it but she still disappears. 

The private eye guy Gramm shows up near the Porsche tries and Jackson calls him out saying he’s a scam artist. Gramm pulls on a ski mask and tells Jackson to ditch his phone while holding a gun on him. Jackson really has the worst time.

We’ve moved back to the Derek and Stiles side of the story. They’ve made it to the preserve and Derek smells smoke. 

Derek also leans his head out the window to catch a better scent prompting Stiles to say:

“I told you not to do that.” Stiles grumped. Then he said, “Oh. No tongue lolling, sorry. It’s just smoke. You can build fires in the preserve.”  He made a face. “You’re not big on smoke, I get that.” “You don’t know anything about me, so shut up.” Derek said. “Kinda do,” Stiles replied, “Wish I didn’t.” he said under his breath. “Just drive.” Derek said. 

Oh just kiss already.

In addition to Derek’s weirdness about humans I think this book may have influenced Derek being a luddite. Stiles loses Scott’s signal for the map app they’ve all been using so Stiles suggests they use Derek’s phone to which Derek says this:

“I don’t have a cell phone,” Derek informed him. He hadn’t imagined needing one. The reception at his house was practically nil, and he could pretty easily find Scott when he needed him. And aside from the Alpha, Scott McCall was the one person in Beacon Hills he needed to communicate with.”

His only valid point is that he didn’t want anyone to track him with it. It’s pretty funny how close Holder actually gets to the plot points actually used in season 1 without knowing it. 

But we shall never forget Derek is not actually a luddite. He does use technology and has a cell phone.

Derek’s ass is clenched so fucking hard right now. Like, I get things are tense and he’s dealing with the smell of smoke which is triggering him a bit but he’s mean to Stiles here in a way he wasn’t in canon. This whole section is just. Ugh. 

“What if you have a cold?” Stiles asked him, and Derek realized he wasn’t trying to be sarcastic. He was genuinely curious. Derek didn’t care. Stiles could stay curious.

“Derek had had it. He grabbed Stiles by the front of the sweatshirt and slammed him against a tree trunk. Stiles grunted hard, and Derek got in his face.”

Stiles is like What is Wrong With You to which Derek continues being a dick.

“I don’t know why I just don’t kill you.”

Stiles reminds Derek he’s not his enemy and Derek thinks he’s too weak to be his enemy but also concedes that Stiles could become his enemy by saying the wrong thing to the wrong person. 

For people who seem to think Derek hates Stiles in the show I would like them to compare and contrast. 500 word essay on the differences here and in Wolf’s Bane please.

The chapter ends with them coming across Allison’s car and it’s covered in the scent of the Alpha.

[worstutfanonthingpoll]

Welcome to the

Worst ut/dr Fanon Thing Tournament!

Vote for the thing about ut/dr fanon that pisses you off the most!

...

Tournament Plan

40 contestants altogether!

ROUND 1 - 20 polls, 40 contestants

...

Meet our contestants: Part one!

The evil Chara!

God (Hatsune Miku) forbid non binary people do anything

Flooey is not Asriel!

Clearly Flooey is an evil 😱 demon rawr and Azzy Wazzy Woo Woo is a perfect 😇 angle uwu

Chara's name pronounciation!

Cha-rah? Kar-ah? Kare-uh? Cha-ra-ra-ah-ah? Roma-ro-ma-ma? Ga-ga-ooh la la? Want your bad romance?

Error and Ink daycare comic!

You know the one.

Fanon Underfell!

Look at how they massacred my boy

Fanon underswap in general!

I.e, the fanon version as a whole, excluding Blueberry. I mean, he is like 90% of the problem BUT STILL.

Noelle Holiday!

She stole someone's brand apparently!

The Big Bad Gaster!

He's the real villain, the evil scientist, he knows exactly what he's doing all cold and calculated like, character nuance who's she? So very eeeeeeeeeevvvvvvvvvviiiiiiiiiiiillllllllllllll

Uwufication of Ralsei!

uwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwUwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuw

Story of undertale

Will I be a pacifist?

Or will I ✨️use my fists✨️?

Flooey is an adult truthers

I.e. simps denying that they carnally lust for someone who is clearly a child HE WANTED A BIKE FOR CHRISTMAS FUCK DAMN YOU

PAPERJAM??

Help me kill him you guys pls pls pls vote for Paperjam like I hate him more than Blueberry at this point

Sans Multiversal War Bullshit!

Yeah

Sexy goat mother!

Don't reduce her to a milf, please. Especially Underfell Toriel, she's off the shits and wears sweatpants not some sexy sultry villainy lady who will "befriend" you

Undyne ignored!

She literally becomes an immortal god in genocide, and is so determined she becomes a fucking amalgamation for a hot minute in most of the neutral runs, shut up about Sans for three seconds please

Aggressive Alphyne shippers!

No need to act so feral u guys

Papyrus hates puns!

I will only accept this if he's given a gun

Spamtis!

*sobs uncontrollably*

Raslei is Asriel!

Incest coding much?

Misgendering, particularly KFC!

Gender up to interpretation MY ASS

[keyh0use]

Kinktober Day 16: Gun Play

Threats, gun f*cking, name calling, unprotected sex, Rafe calling Barry baby for once. Consensual. Proofread 1 time

Barry hated horror movies, that was an indisputable fact. No matter how corny or camp or cinematographic, Barry hated horror movies. Intentionally scaring himself, subjecting himself to brains splattering and innocent victims screaming in petrified glamour was not for him. But it was for Rafe. Rafe was a glutton for all things scary; movies and attractions alike. Usually, the boy would settle down and watch whatever new, disgusting flick had come out while Barry was at work. On rare occasions, when a film required—according to the kook—to be watched at night, Barry would retire to bed early to read, much to Rafe's displeasure.

Then came October and Rafe's eagerness won the older man over, and suddenly Barry had unintentionally entered into a month-long movie marathon. Each night was a new film, Barry's choice and then Rafe's. Barry wasn't much into movies, never was. He didn't have a TV growing up and he didn't like theatres, but there were some classics like The Godfather and some old westerns he used to watch at his grandparents house, which he was admittedly quite excited to share with his boy. And Rafe—Rafe watched the hell out of those movies. He sat quietly, ate his snacks and was fully engaged, fully prepared to share his thoughts afterwards. So Barry grit his teeth during the gore and limb-cutting, suppressing the urge to gag as organs spilled out. Most of the movies were franchises, and they seemed to get more violent as the numbers rose and it became more difficult every other day to control his rolling stomach. But it was just gross. Barry could deal with gross, after all, once it was over it was over. No big deal. Until the night before last when Rafe told his man in a light tone, I chose something a little different this time, not really gory or anything so I thought you might like it and then put on the most twisted, fucked-up film Barry's ever had the displeasure of watching. True to word, it wasn't overly gory but boy did it leave a lasting impression, the dealer glancing over at his boyfriend in horror to see a sweet looking smile pointed back. Only twenty or so minutes in and Barry was squeezing his eyes shut and saying, Rafe, no, while making a grab for the remote. Poor baby, cooed Rafe, wrapping the older man up in his embrace, blocking Barry from turning the movie off. You scared? No, bitch, I don't wanna watch some kid the same age as my sister die, Barry snapped. It took a second for the words to sink in and Rafe to realise the sister in reference was Wheezie, a genuine smile gracing his face then as he cuddled in closer, reassuring Barry it wasn't that bad. Only Rafe had lied, and while Barry sat and took it, he held a grudge for the last 48 hours. It was the boys turn once more and he returned to his roots, putting on the third Texas Chainsaw Massacre. "Come sit on my lap," demands Barry, nodding down at his clothed crotch. "But—" starts Rafe, pointing limply at the screen. Barry warns, "Not askin', sweetheart."

The same old song and dance played on screen, unsuspecting people rolling in from out of town and discovering the oddities within the backwards Texas countryside. Barry could barely focus on that, though, too busy guiding the kooks ass back and forth over his prominent erection.

Rafe is genuinely trying to enjoy the movie, though he's seen it a dozen times before but it grows more difficult the harder his dick gets, straining against the confines of his pajama pants.

The sound of a chainsaw startles Rafe's gaze back to the screen, attention slipping again and again. They're supposed to watch the movie, that's what tonight is about. All the kook yearns for is traditions, something the Cameron family never upheld around holidays.

Ward's idea of tradition was his son following in his footsteps; joining the family business, finding a nice partner to settle down with and providing grandchildren.

Rafe has fulfilled one of three on that list but it didn't matter, that wasn't what he wanted. No, the kook has dreamt of carving pumpkins and decorating the whole house for the season and taking corny couples photos for years. For the most part Barry was completely onboard, willing to be dragged around from apple orchards to corn mazes—but had ultimately drawn the line on anything with haunted in the name.

Movies were a compromise and Rafe wanted this to be a thing too, cuddling up on the couch with snacks to share their favourite films like a date every night of the month.

And it wasn't a one-way deal, either because not only did Barry seem to like spending the extra, intentional and uninterrupted time together but Rafe already booked a December getaway for them up north after the older man let it slip that Christmas was his favourite.

I've always wanted to see snow, y'know? Barry had said. See like, one of them parades, it's stupid or whatever I just never did that shit as a kid.

Rafe was determined to have set in stone traditions for every damn holiday no matter what.

"Get undressed," orders Barry.

Gesturing to the TV, Rafe says, "But—"

"I'm not asking." Each word is enunciated and firm, leaving no room for argument.

Rafe plants his socked feet on the cold floor to stand, hauling his shirt off and then makes quick work of removing his pajama pants, both articles making a small pile on the arm of the couch.

A shiver ran down the boy's spine despite the quaint room being warm and inviting, the feeling of being completely exposed for Barry's pleasure always sending a thrill through Rafe.

Rough hands covered in callouses and healing cuts drag down Rafe's outer thighs, the older man letting out an appreciative noise as he trailed hungry eyes over the curve of the kooks ass.

"Can I sit?" asks Rafe quietly, belly swooping when Barry leans forward to press a chaste kiss between the dimples at the base of his back.

Barry answers easily, "If you turn around."

Those hands never leave his body as Rafe obeys, turning and sinking his knees into the couch cushions on either side of his man's hips. Rafe is vaguely aware the movie is still playing but it doesn't matter. Nothing does. Not when Barry looks at him like that.

The older man's attention never strays, both palms slipping around to grab a handful of Rafe's ass, dragging him forward until there's no space between them, Barry's sizeable cock wedged up against where the boy wants him most.

Rafe loops his arms around Barry's neck and leans in for a kiss which is eagerly accepted and he's so focused on the traces of beer lingering on the tongue fucking into his mouth to notice anything else, like Barry reaching beneath a throw blanket.

That's until cold metal is pressed into the small of Rafe's back and he's jumping from the contact, gasping quietly.

Rafe's face scrunches up in confusion and he makes a move to look over his shoulder, stopped only by Barry tutting in disapproval.

"Eyes on me, country club," Barry drawls, head cocked to the side.

Not one to disobey, blue eyes cut to the handsome man in front of him and Rafe tries to pinpoint what he's gotten himself into. "Barry?" the kook cautiously asks.

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

Rafe says, "The movie—"

"This is for the movie," assures the older man, blunt piece trailing up Rafe's spine. "Wanna enhance your experience."

"You gonna put on a gross mask?" Rafe jokes, but there's a nervous tremor running through him, practically vibrating in his man's lap.

Barry offers a sweet smile, dripping with insincerity. "Something like that," he says.

When Barry's fingers graze against the kooks shoulder he makes the mistake of looking, breath catching at the sight of the black barrel that digs into his jaw until he's forced to meet dark brown eyes again.

Barry watches—watches how Rafe's chest expands with a deep breath, how he gives a harsh swallow and how his attention is shifty.

"You wouldn't hurt me," states Rafe, voice wobbly.

"I'm trying to scare you. What, this ain't scary enough for ya'?" The tiny metallic click of the safety being flicked off is unbelievably loud. Barry leans in close to whisper, "And I think we both know I would hurt you."

Rafe's reaction is immediate, tears springing into his blue eyes and mouth slack in shock. The end of the gun is gently caressing his blushing cheekbone and it feels heavy. It feels loaded.

"I've never seen you this scared before," mumbles Barry in awe, landing a sharp, swift slap to Rafe's ass that has the boy whimpering. "You feel how hard you're making me, baby boy?"

The boy looks like he has something to say but it's cut short when a scream from the TV tears through their moment, making Rafe bounce in Barry's lap with a panicky shout.

Barry let's his head loll back for a moment, eyes fluttering shut and then his attention is back on his baby. "That felt good," he comments. "Would make you ride me dry if I didn't have other plans, but fuck I'd kill to hear you scream like that again."

Fingers curl at the base of Barry's skull, Rafe knocking their foreheads together and whispering, "Stop." And gets the barrel nudged against his temple hard. "Please. Please, baby, stop."

It isn't often the kook refers to Barry by anything other than his name and when it does happen, substances or lack of sleep are usually to blame. And while it doesn't bother the dealer that Rafe has no pet names for him, it certainly makes him fucking melt when they slip out on these rare occasions.

"Say it again," prompts Barry, tapping the gun to the boy's plump bottom lip.

The word please is carried on a shaky exhale, watery eyes pleading.

"Say it and maybe I'll make this fast," Barry says with another, more intentional shove of the gun. "Then again, you know how much I love hearing you beg."

Rafe is looking at the older man with an innocent sort of curiosity, wet lashes clumped and lips slick where they're touching the end of the barrel, panting heavily. It's uncanny how familiar this all feels to the first time the kook tasted his cock—on his knees in this very room, a little nervous and a whole lot turned on—and that memory has Barry suggestively pushing forward, knocking metal against teeth.

And then the boy does something unexpected; Rafe tilts his chin up and lets his mouth fall open wider, tongue pressed flat to the underside of the barrel as he drags it up teasingly, watching Barry's reaction through hooded eyes.

Barry pushes forward without permission, sliding the gun further into the boys mouth until pink lips are stretched, spit collected at the edges and dripping.

"You know how many people I've gone after with this thing?" asks Barry, shoving the barrel deeper until Rafe gags. "All the pain this gun has caused and here you are, deepthroating it like a fucking slut." The degrading word has the kook moaning sinfully around metal, like he's tasting the dealer's come instead of gunpowder. Reaching down to fist Rafe's steely cock with the hand previously resting on the boy's ass, swollen tip soaked where Barry rolls the pad of his thumb lazily, he says offhandedly, "Could empty the clip in you right now, you know that?"

The threat has Rafe yanking his mouth off the gun, a string of saliva connecting his bottom lip to the end of the barrel. "No, you wouldn't, I know you wouldn't," he rushes out, wide eyes searching his man's face.

The TV flashes with a bright burst of white light that reflects off the gold piece in Barry's mouth when he grins. "Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn't," the older man drawls with a tilt of his head. "I love ya'—"

"I love you," Rafe interrupts, pointedly avoiding looking at the gun aimed at his head.

Barry hums lowly at that. "Know that, pretty baby, wouldn't doubt that shit," he says sincerely. "But we both know I also love hurting you...and making you cry, making you bleed. Fuck, you know that shit gets me goin'."

And now Rafe is scared.

Sure, Barry has never threatened to kill the kook before and while their relationship is built off trust, it's obvious some of the terror in those blue eyes is real, which is thrilling to the drug dealer.

"Please," Rafe whimpers.

"Please what? Please keep going?" Barry asks but doesn't care for an answer, promptly ignoring the kooks head shake. "Sure, country club, we can keep goin'. Lay down."

Rafe shifts nervously, knees squeezing his man's hips. "Will you put the gun down?" he mumbles.

"Lay—" starts Barry, tone stern as he presses the gun to the boys jaw. "Down. Now, Rafe."

Letting out a stuttered alright, okay, Rafe carefully falls off the older man's lap onto a neighboring cushion and lays back, legs instinctively falling open when Barry fully turns to kneel.

Barry wastes no time taking advantage of their new positions, both hands—one rough but warm and the other wielding a cold, hard weapon—exploring Rafe's exposed body. The Kook jumps when his nipple is tweaked, back arching just a little off the springy futon as the edge of the barrel trails achingly slow towards his hard cock.

Rafe's chest rises with each ragged breath, chin tucked down and eyes laser-focused on the gun getting closer and closer to his most sensitive area. "Barry?" the boy questions with an air of uncertainty.

"Yes?" the drug dealer replies easily, rubbing over Rafe's perineum.

Rafe stutters out, "What are you doing?"

Without a glance towards the boys frightened face, Barry lifts the gun and spits directly on it, smoothing saliva over the shiny piece before placing the blunt end against Rafe's entrance. "Just opening you up, stay still, country club," explains the older man.

All the air rushes from Rafe at once and he's shaking his head vigorously, babbling, "No, no, no. Barry, no, please—" only to be cut off by pressure against his rim and then the barrel is sinking into his very unprepared hole.

Rafe's whole body is trembling as the gun slowly slides almost all the way out before being roughly crammed back in, barely slick metal cold and dragging along his inner walls in a way that borders pleasant—but not quite.

The shape is odd and uncomfortable, something the boy can't help but focus on given his prostate is being neglected as the makeshift sex toy is stretching him open.

On the staticky TV the final scenes begin playing out, the sound of weapons clashing and terrified screaming ensue, loud even over the kooks panicked whimpers and Barry's responding groans. Dark, hungry eyes watch as the barrel disappears again and again, finger carefully placed off the trigger.

"Fuck, you're so hot," Barry mutters.

Rafe begs brokenly, "Please—" and before the other man can make some smartass quip, he confesses with a wavering voice, "I want your cock. I wanna be fucked by you, please, baby? Please fuck me. Please!"

Whether it's the desperation dripping from the kook or the use of baby or a combination, Barry is quick to remove the gun and wipe it off on the couch—something that will surely get him scolded when Rafe has the mind to care—and shoves his shorts down until they bunch around his knees.

Barry at least has the decency to wet his dick before unceremoniously pushing inside in one long, fluid motion that has both of them crying out.

"That feel good, sweetheart?" the older man asks, hips rocking as he finds his pace.

Both of Rafe's hands come up to tangle in Barry's hair and he's nodding. "Yes," the kook whines.

Coming to hover over the boys lean body, Barry knocks the gun against Rafe's temple and says, "You come before I give you permission I'll blow your brains out, yeah?" and then leans in to swallow a gasp, lips pressed together gently as Rafe's hole clenches down violently at the threat.

The hand not holding a presumably loaded weapon is caressing the boys cheek, loving touch and passionate kissing a harsh contrast to the slap of Barry's balls against Rafe's ass and steady jabs to his sensitive prostate. No amount of squirming or soft begging against grinning lips slows the brutal fucking or releases the hold the dealer has on the gun, held firm and sure to his sweaty skin.

"Always look so pretty taking my cock," praises Barry through grunts, heat pooling in his belly. A single tear slips out of wide, watery blue eyes and the gun catches it just as Rafe tenses around his thick length. "You ain't even embarrassed you're getting off with a gun to your head. I could kill you, Rafe."

Barry doesn't know why he says it or why it undeniably turns the both of them on so much; Rafe's life being in his hands.

Maybe it's because of the thrill and the comfort. Barry would never hurt his baby and Rafe knows that, even if his heart is pounding and his brain feels foggy, relying solely on trust and fate.

And the fact that Rafe is letting this happen is fucking intoxicating, the way Barry feels like he could do anything to the kook makes his head reel.

Rafe's brows are pinched together and he's panting harshly, cock pulsating between their grinding bodies. "Oh, fuck, don't stop. Please don't stop," the boy begs, wrapping his long legs tight around Barry's rocking hips.

Barry's movements grow erratic, chasing his high with little regard for Rafe's, just the way the kook likes it.

Slender fingers are yanking ruthlessly on dark curly hair as Rafe pleads for permission to finish, whimpering please let me come. Please, baby, let me come for you on a babbled loop, fresh tears dripping down his temples.

Barry sets the gun down on the cushion and cradles Rafe's face in both big, overworked hands to bring their lips together as his fat cock drives the kook right to the edge. "Come, go ahead," he rushes out before licking his way inside the boys mouth.

Rafe spasms around his man's dick, muscles tightening as his back arches and he shoots between them, pearly white ropes coating his torso. The cry that rips from his throat is coarse and piercing, louder than the end credits of the forgotten film still playing.

The boy whimpering in sensitivity is what has Barry spilling inside the fucked-out hole without warning, choked off groan coming from somewhere deep in his throat.

When they've come down enough to move, Barry's cock slips out with a rush of come, soaking a patch on the futon.

Barry takes a second to wipe Rafe off with a shirt before standing up and nodding towards the corner seat of the couch. "Sit back," he orders gently.

"Why?"

"To watch the movie?" Barry replies confusedly, one brow cocked.

Rafe suggests, "We can turn it off, we've already missed half."

Snatching the remote from the stained coffee table, Barry presses down on the rewind button and looks back at his boy expectedly. "We're watching it 'cause it's your night."

"Okay," Rafe says, barely containing the happiness radiating off of him. "But why do you want me in your spot?" "I love you, baby, and I'd protect you from anythin', you know that?" asks Barry, eyes sincere. At Rafe's responding nod he continues with, "Exactly. If we were in some real shit like this backwards movie I'd give myself up immediately if I thought you could get away but like hell am I holding you through another one of these damn things."

Five minutes later the two are cuddled up on the couch, Barry's cheek resting over Rafe's heart, one arm wrapped around his tan shoulders and fingers playing with his hair.

The movie is still disgusting but it's easier to swallow when Barry's wrapped up in his favourite persons embrace.

[invincibleweasel]

Decided to make a RWBY Tier List using my own tiering system made from memes. Explanations for each tier will be below the cut.

THE TIERS

TIER 1 - PERFECTION

This tier is for characters I really like and have very minor issues with in how they specifically are handled narratively. They’re likeable and do well in the role they’re given.

TIER 2 - WE WERE ON THE VERGE OF GREATNESS, WE WERE THIS CLOSE

This tier is similar to the one before in being characters I like a lot. However, certain parts of their narrative journeys or how they were portrayed leaves a sour taste in my mouth and drags them down from being truly great. 

TIER 3 - WE COULD HAVE HAD IT ALLLLLLL

Obligatory wasted potential tier. Characters I believe should’ve been given so much more development and time and purpose instead of being unceremoniously killed off, pushed to the side or turned into a complete joke. 

TIER 4 - LOOK HOW THEY MASSACRED MY BOY/GIRL

This tier is for characters who started out great when they were first introduced but slowly regressed as the series went on.

TIER 5 - REALITY CAN WHATEVER I WANT

The tier for characters who are ultimately unimportant in the grand scale of the story but are ones who have the potential to be really interesting and are just personal faves of mine.

TIER 6 - WAIT A MINUTE, WHO ARE YOU?

This tier is similar to the previous one, just on the opposite end of the spectrum. I could not give less of a fuck about any of you people. But I don’t hate any of them. I just don’t care. Which is why they’re here and not any lower.

TIER 7 - YOU SHOULD BE ADDICTED TO SHUTTING THE FUCK UP

This tier is for characters who have just enough potential to be interesting in a different story. But good lord are they fucking annoying in canon. Shut the fuck up please. TIER 8 - TO SHREDS, YOU SAY?

Pretty self-explanatory. These characters serve no purpose or are actively detrimental to plot and could easily be replaced by someone else.