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hughiecampbelle · 3 months

Text

Malignant (Homelander Oneshot)

((TAKES PLACE IN S4E4))

Character/s: Homelander

Word Count: 1,468

Warning/s: gore, sort of all the basic warnings The Boys typically has

Requested: Hii! I’ve just found your blog, read some of your works and loveee them! Especially The Boys Preferences and imagines! May I request a platonic Homelander x reader with the prompts: Fury, Shooting Stars, “Get away from me” ? Thank youuu! - anon

A/N: Y'all when I tell you you're not ready!!! When I say I love this I mean I cannot stop smiling!!! I am Victor Frankenstein and this is my monster lol. Thank you for requesting my love! I hope you like it!!! Feedback is always appreciated!!! 💜💜💜

Requests are open! 🔮

Get away from me. The words come out as a whimper, barely above a whisper. His features contort: insecurity, rage, struck dumb by your reaction. Despite himself, he smiles, trying make sense of it all. This is what we’ve always wanted. They deserved it, all of them. Why can’t- why can’t you see that? He takes a step closer and you react by moving further back, through the doorway. Your shoe makes a squeaking sound. Beneath the sole something squelches, wet and gummy. You don’t have to look down to know what you’ve stepped in. It’s splattered across the walls and ceiling. The entire room painted red. Faceless, headless, limbless bodies dropped across the floor. You’ve stepped on someones intestines, their insides strewn across the floor like shooting stars. Here and there are articles of clothing, a shoe without their twin, a name tag or Vought issued ID. You don’t recognize them. Many of them new hires. They weren’t around all those years ago. They took no part in what happened to you, to either of you. Bile rises in your throat. It’s the smell that’s the worst. Metallic. You can taste the iron on your tongue. Not just that, though. The heater was still on. Though the body was ash, the stench of burned skin and hair lingers. It’s thick, and hot, and disgusting. The warmth radiates off it, seeping into the rest of the lab. It leaves you fighting your nausea, your hatred, the two churning in your stomach. Why, why are you mad at me? He’s drenched in their blood. It’s dried across his face, his suit and in his hair. How long has he been with the bodies? You killed them, John. You killed them all.

Despite what the media portrayed, your childhood wasn’t baseball games and apple pies. There was no mother to rock you to sleep or father telling you you were a great kid. There were no little sisters to play with or teasing from big brothers. No white pickett fence or a sweet, yet obedient, dog running around. There was sterility. There were test tubes, and locked rooms, and tests. There were knives, and guns, and fire. You and him, you were invincible. They wanted to test that. They wanted to see just how far you could be pushed before you broke. Your skin was impenetrable, but that didn’t mean it didn’t burn every time they shoved you into that chamber. You’d pound your fists against the door, begging and screaming, every inch of you engulfed in flames. Sometimes it still felt like you were burning. In dreams, maybe when the weather was warm. You were just a little kid. You thought (feared) this time would be the last time. This is how you would die. Your tears evaporated before they could fall. You’d call out for them, for the pseudo father figures. When that wasn’t enough, when they refused to move from their charts and lazy game of paper ball, you’d cry for John. Your companion, your brother, your friend. He’d be enclosed in his own hell. Eventually you learned to be quiet. Eventually you learned you would survive. No one was coming to save you. No one was going to stop this. You’d watch, day in and day out, first your skin, your muscles, until the fire kissed your bones. You’d come to hours, days later, completely healed. Not a single scar carved into your flesh. No evidence except your memories.

If you were good, if you were well behaved, you might be rewarded. Taught a new game or trick. Tic-tac-toe had been an exciting discovery at the time. You’d liked playing O’s. John liked X’s. Hangman was another. Always with a dull pencil, just in case. You’d be sniffling, hiccupping, leftover from the sobbing, when they’d sit you on the lab table and ask you to guess a letter. They weren’t the kinds of words children should have heard, but how could you have known? Psychopath. Indestructible. Malignant. You didn’t know the meanings or, for a long time, how to spell them, but you heard them a lot. They were household names. If they were feeling generous, kind, they might give you more chances: add a face, a hat, a bowtie. Through tears you’d laugh at the ridiculousness, pointing out that the hanged man could not possibly be as accessorized as they were making him to be. You never liked when the game was over. Win or lose, it always meant the same thing. One man, much older than everyone else, would lift you up and carry you back to your cell as if you were his own. You’d cling to him, his shirt, clutching tight with your chubby, dimpled hands, watching over his shoulder as someone else would discard the pieces of paper, throwing them away. You wanted to keep them, have them to laugh at the silly stick figure when it was dark and you were all alone, but you wouldn’t dare ask. If not the man, then a young woman who’d lead you back, hand in hand, full of promises you both knew she would not keep. Talk of real games, with boards and pieces and cards. But when the time came again, when you did as you were told, all you were allotted was a piece of paper and pencil.

Her body was the first you recognized. Faceless yes, but you knew her as well as you knew yourself. Barbara. She was like a mother to you. Albeit, a terrible one. A cold, uncaring, aseptic woman who studied you, who created you, made you the person you are today. Wasn’t that all mothers? She’d hush your cries, ask why you were so upset. You didn’t have the words, the vocabulary, and so she’d grow tired. Bored. When you could articulate yourself better, then you would be worthy of her time. Truthfully, you weren’t all that sad she was dead. She must’ve known what was going on. She must’ve seen or heard something. At night, when they came into your room. When they made you promise to keep it secret. Couldn’t she tell? Couldn’t any of them? Armies of psychologists couldn’t get the truth out of you, not that they were trying to. Their alliances rest elsewhere. Fear of abandonment had been ingrained into you. You’d cry even harder, begging her not to leave, not to go. She’d pretend she had no other choice, that it was your fault. You were a crybaby. A sissy. An imbecile. If you could not pull yourself together and act like an adult, she would have no choice but to get up. Beneath the hurt was a fury, a burning, but they had you trained well. Instead you screamed, begged, throwing yourself to the floor, into walls, harming yourself for an ounce of her attention. Affection. Circles of red stained the walls where your head had been bashed. Your clothes ripped and torn. Your tantrums were spectacular. Fantastical. Eventually you’d grow tired, exhausted. Bloody, you’d sit very still and breathe and wait for her to come back. Then, and only then, would she grace you with her presence.

You hoped the bitch suffered.

Marty rests limp, his face crushed in, a hole lasered through his groin. You knew the story, the nickname. He tried to get you to call John that peculiar name, too. Try to get you in on the joke. You never did. He had names for you, too. Just as vulgar and perverted. No one ever stopped him. No one ever said it was inappropriate. You guessed when you were being gutted, sliced from collarbones to pelvis, turned into a living autopsy, harassment wasn’t such a big deal. You stepped over his body without a second though. Footsteps to follow from his skull (what was left of it) to where John stood. This is very bad. You find your voice again, inspecting the lab around you. The cake sits melted in it’s pink box. The lights flicker. There is an unsettling silence. But I, I did it for you. His eyes are wide, his pupils dilated. His grin is hysterical. John, you start, but the rest of your sentence clatters to the floor. He watches you, desperate for your approval, your appreciation. They did terrible things to you. They let terrible things happen to you, unspeakable things. Why should you be upset? Why should you mourn them? Why should their gruesome deaths fill you with anything but satisfaction? They deserved it. They were asking for it. You slide away the mans large intestine, wiping the blood from your shoe. Thank you, you say finally, placing your hands on his shoulders, squeezing them. He breathes out a sigh of relief. Thank you, it means a lot.

#requested #writing #homelander #homelander x reader #homelander drabble #homelander oneshot #the boys #the boys x reader #the boys drabble #the boys oneshot

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strawhbrrries · 1 year

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Inked

pairing: tattoo artist!frank castle x afab!reader

summary: frank castle was praised for his work constantly, leading you to get a thigh piece. which then leads you into a problem because your artist is so fucking attractive

warnings: cussing, masturbation (m and f), fingering, frank with no shirt, tattooed frank!!!, no use of y/n or description of reader, not proofread

word count: 2732 words

author’s note: this has been a looooong time coming so i'm excited to finally be able to share it with you guys!! i hope it does the drabble that started it some justice. dedicated to the sweet anon that requested it be turned into a full fic! please enjoy! mwah!

tags: @kloofspeaks

inspired by this drabble!

Your wallet was burning a hole in your pocket, a big gaping tattoo shaped hole. To match the tattoo shaped hole in your wallet was a perfect spot on your thigh just begging to be decorated, but your current artist was booked so far out and you needed it now.

“Just go to this guy.” Your friend mentioned, giving you the contact information for one of the artists at the studio they frequented. His work was insane, you spent an entire week looking and relooking at all the pictures he posted before ever working up the courage to email him, he was faceless and you assumed he was some old man who’d been in the game a long time.

You couldn’t be more wrong.

“Can I help you?” A deep voice snapped you back to reality, you had gotten side tracked looking at all the art on the wall from all the artists in the studio. The guy you were seeing, Mr. Castle, had the best work though and you were glad your friend had mentioned him.

You turned around and immediately wanted to hide, a very handsome man with a tall stature was the source of the voice. It made your panties wet and made you want to rub your thighs together to relieve the building tension, not that it would help but you sure could try. He was rugged, in a gorgeous way, his hair was fluffy and fell over his ears but his jaw was sharp and complimented the style. His face was serious, not that he was trying to be but it made you nervous. Made you want to confess every bad thing you’d ever done out of sheer anxiousness, to fill the silence as he waited for your answer. You hoped he wasn’t your artist just for your sake, and maybe for your underwear.

“Yeah, uhm. I have a consultation with Mr. Castle.” Your voice was much softer than his, you looked down to avoid eye contact with him. To avoid spilling your guts to some handsome stranger who was probably married because how could he not be?

“That’d be me.” For the first time since you saw him a smile appeared on his face, it complimented him more than the stoic look he carried. The blush that arose was almost embarrassing, he thought it was cute. “Just Frank though.”

“Huh?” You stopped listening after he mentioned he was your artist, the blood pumping in your ears being the only sound you heard. Of course you would end up with the world's most attractive man as your artist and of course he was going to be touching all over your legs, this was a cruel dream. You’d practically broken a finger from how hard you were squeezing your hands.

“Just call me Frank, Mr. Castle is my dad and I hate the formality.” He chuckled, writing something on the clipboard he’d been holding. You hadn’t noticed anything below his neck and now you were actively, and very obviously, checking him out.

His arms were veiny and filled with tattoos that disappeared under the sleeves of his shirt and poked back out at the neck before disappearing down his back, it seemed he had one big connecting tattoo but you couldn’t exactly ask him to strip in public. You couldn’t see his legs or his chest but you assumed they were also covered in tattoos, you wanted nothing more to learn about them all.

“You can just follow me this way, the consultation won’t take long.” He cleared his throat, clearing the awkward air that hung between you.

He walked to a booth all the way in the back and to the left, pulled the curtain closed after you walked in. Motioning to the chair that sat in the middle of the space you sat down and placed your purse on your lap, mentally cursing yourself for being so fucking awkward. This wasn’t your first tattoo so what was your problem? He was and you knew it.

“Did you get the email I sent? I know my description of the idea was bad so I can explain it better.” You rambled, watching him sit on the swivel chair next to you and pick up an ipad from the counter that sat in the back.

“Yeah, let me show you what I drew up and we can go from there.” He looked at you through his hair as he leaned his elbows against his knees, pulling up the drawing. He turned around and the ipad and handed it to you, chuckling when your eyes lit up at the design.

“It’s like you read my mind, holy shit. This is exactly what I envisioned.” For the first time since you saw him your voice was confident and loud, your eyes bright and your mouth a bright smile. He slowly took the ipad back and let out a laugh, god he was attractive.

“It’s what I do. Do you like it, does it need any change? If so I can fix those right now and then I can print it out and we can play with sizes.” He watched your face, he could almost see the gears turning in your head as you processed his words.

“It’s perfect, no changes.” You nodded, smiling big.

He printed out a few sizes and tested each of them against your thigh, he pretended not to notice the blush that only darkened in shade every time he touched you. You appreciated it, trying your best to regulate your breathing and the pounding your heart was doing. You worried if you’d be able to control yourself when it came to the actual tattoo, he would be touching you nonstop for an unknown amount of time. He settled on the middle size, taking up a big chunk of the free space you had but not so much it looked awkwardly big and not too little so it looked too small.

You had trusted him and set the date for your actual tattoo, two weeks from the day you went in. You spent every day and every night for the next two weeks thinking about him. If you were making breakfast you thought about how he liked his bacon cooked, his coffee, or if he even ate it at all. If you were showering you thought about the products he used and if he used a loofah or a rag, if he had separate conditioner and shampoo. When you laid awake at night, hands stuffed in your panties wanting to cry his name, you thought if he was doing the same. Came to the image of his smile and fell asleep to the sound of his voice playing in your mind.

He’d seen thousands of clients, tattooed plenty of attractive women, but nobody had been so stuck in his head like you. After he walked you to the door he went back to his booth, closed the curtain and fucked his hand like a teenage boy. Washed his hands in the bathroom and went to greet his next client like he wasn’t thinking about bending you over the counter. Having you ride him in the tattoo chair. Making you be quiet so no one else heard you. Shit, he was hard again. He didn’t know if his self control was strong enough to avoid hitting on you and being unprofessional the next time you came in.

The day finally came, you had counted down the days and the minutes until you could see him again. There was this incessant need to see him and try to figure out the mysteries that stood behind Frank Castle. You asked him what kind of coffee he preferred, black, and picked it up on your way to the studio. The nerves were hitting you, not only would you be getting a decent sized tattoo but it’d be done by the most attractive man you’d ever seen. The man you’d spent two weeks masturbating to, this was going to be fun.

“God, this is just what I need this morning.” He groaned, taking the paper cup of coffee out of your hand and taking a long sip. “Typically I try not to drink caffeine on days I’m actually tattooing, makes the hand shake sometimes. I was up late last night so this is a must.”

“And I’m using it to get rid of the shakes.” You joked, taking a sip of your coffee and following him back to the booth.

You’d opted to wear a yellow sundress, not by choice as it was one of the only clean articles of clothing you had that left your thigh relatively exposed. It was a choice you were now regretting, in the days leading up to the appointment you apparently did everything but laundry. Frank was trying his hardest to ignore it, he was insanely glad he’d walked in front of you. Had he been behind you he’d for sure stared at your ass the entire walk to his booth. He can’t deny that he hadn’t when he made you enter the booth before him, it was a glorious sight. He adjusted his pants before he did anything else, this was going to be a grueling few hours.

He carefully placed the stencil on your thigh, being careful to move the dress up just enough that it wasn’t in the way but not too much so your pussy was on display. He wished it was. He wanted to eat you out like it was his last meal. But he refrained. He’d been on his best behavior so far and he was determined to stay that way, no matter how much he wanted to hike your dress up and pull your panties down to your ankles. Once he finally was satisfied with the stencil placement he asked for your opinion, as it was going on your body forever and not his. You had him adjust the angle once before deciding it was perfect, he had to ask three times before you admitted you didn’t like the original placement.

The tattoo took three hours, three long hours of his hands touching you in the most non-sexual way but yet turning you on ridiculously. You were sure that by the time he’d wrapped your tattoo there was a large stain on the fabric of your panties, a part of you wanted him to see it and know he caused it. The other part was embarrassed. They were fighting to see which part would take over.

“Can I see your tattoos?” You asked softly, an attempt to stay with him longer and avoid going home. You knew you could just book another appointment but what fun would waiting be? You could just stall for as long as you could.

“Oh? Yeah, sure.” His face was shocked, like nobody in the entire world had ever asked to see the intricate tattoo that was drawn across his body. You refused to believe it.

You watched intently as he removed his shirt, your eyes following the lines that were revealed by the lack of fabric. He watched silently as you raked your eyes over his skin, a small hint of a blush covered his cheeks. He’d never had someone so curious about his tattoos and want to see them, it was odd to be the one in the spotlight.

“Can I touch them?” You looked up at him, moving a bit closer as you waited for his response.

“Yeah…” He breathed out, quiet and waiting for the feeling of your hand on his skin. His breath hitched in his throat the second he felt it, the warmth of your hand felt incredible on his skin.

You trailed your fingers over every line, starting from the bottom of his left arm and down his chest. Goosebumps followed closely behind your fingers, the contact was something unusual to him. Welcomed, but unusual. He watched you the entire time you marveled at the ink, answering every question you had. He’d had people be interested in the ink before but never to the extent you were, he appreciated it and would think about it forever. He’d think about you forever.

“Frank…” You whispered, looking up at him as you placed a hand on his chest.

He looked down at you and groaned, the self control he had was no longer a thing. The pink staining your cheeks and the way your eyes were glazed over and he hadn’t even touched you made him want to do bad things. He wanted to corrupt you, bend you to his will for only him to have. His head dipped down, softly placing his lips against yours. A small whimper escaped your lips as he brought a hand to cup the side of your face, switching positions with you on the counter. Now he had you pressed against it and was able to do whatever he desired.

He nipped at your bottom lip, swiping his tongue across it to soothe any pain. He’d slipped his other hand under your dress at the same time, rubbing the skin just above your panties. You leaned your hip into his touch, bringing the hand that was on his chest to his hair. Using it to ground yourself just a bit, the fact that you were making out with the man you lusted after for two weeks was insane. It felt like a dream.

“Can I touch you?” He mumbled against your lips, playing with the band of your panties.

You shook your head yes and helped him slide your panties down, stepping out of them and scooting them to the side to be discovered later. He slid his middle finger between your lips, gliding it up and down a minute as he continued kissing you.

“You’re so wet, who did this?” He mocked, circling your clit a few times.

“You did.” You whimpered, trying to grind down against his hand for just a bit more friction.

“That right? Been thinking about me this whole time? Wanted me to help fix your problem?” He slid his middle finger inside of you, curling it against that wonderful spongy spot.

You couldn’t muster up a response no matter how badly you wanted to, his singular finger felt better than any of your fingers had for two weeks. This was everything you wanted and more. He chuckled at you, flattered that him barely doing anything set you off like it had.

He pumped his finger in and out slowly, watching as your juices coated his finger. Enjoying the moans he was pulling out of you, even if they were trying to entice him into adding another finger. He gave in, the pretty noises you were making he just couldn’t resist. He would do anything in this moment to please you, if you had this effect on him for everything he’d be screwed. He added another finger, kissing along your jawline as he did so. You could’ve seen stars right then and there, if this was how full you felt from just his fingers you could only imagine the fullness from his cock.

He curled his fingers rhythmically with the pumping, using his thumb to circle your clit as best he could. The knot in your stomach that had formed the day you stepped into the studio was bubbling, you could feel it twisting and tightening. Your orgasm was on the tip of your tongue and it felt explosive, three more pumps of his fingers and your vision went white. His name falling off your lips like a mantra, like it was the only name you knew and you didn’t care if the rest of the studio could hear. He was making you feel so fucking good, you could scream it from the rooftops.

Nearing the end of your orgasm he slowed his fingers down, placing one last kiss to your lips before completely removing them. You whined at the loss, feeling so empty now that they were gone. He smiled softly at the whine, washing his hands in the sink next to the counter before bringing a towel over to help clean up any mess.

“Do you do this with all your clients?” You joked, fixing the sweaty hairs sticking to your forehead.

“No, only you. Step in here in a sundress again and we’ll see what happens.”

#maddies fics #frank castle #jon bernthal #the punisher #frank castle x you #frank castle x reader #jon bernthal imagine #jon bernthal smut #frank castle smut #daredevil #daredevil smut #the punisher fanfiction #the punisher fic #the punisher smut #punisher smut

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freeuselandonorris · 21 days

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hhhhnnnnnffffff fic ask game i think i’d die if u flip flopped is it cold in the water?

oh oh OHHH anon the excitement i felt when this came into my inbox thank uuuu!! this fic is so so close to my heart.

someone else has also requested this and i had so much fun writing it that i'm going to do another scene from later on in the fic, but for now, this is the first scene from oscar's pov.

cw for consensual non-consent!

He can hear Lando getting out of the shower, singing along to the synth line of whatever music he’s playing, and the sheer innocence of it makes Oscar’s heart ache.

It takes an effort of will to focus himself on the task at hand. To not just say hey Lando, let myself in, hope you don’t mind.

Oscar feels the ripple of shock that goes through Lando when he grabs him, starting from the point where his palm’s pressed over his mouth and going right down to his toes. He presses until he can feel the blunt shapes of Lando’s teeth through his lips, muffling the sounds he’s trying to make, and says: “Stop struggling. It’ll be better if you don’t struggle.”

He hadn’t been at all sure about the idea at first, when Lando had brought it up. Oscar considered himself, at heart, a nice person. Certainly not capable of – that. But it was just play-acting, Lando had assured him; sexy roleplay like playing doctors and nurses, just a bit more. Edgy.

He’d thought about it, read about it, shaped it in his head. And now he’s here, in Lando’s hallway, with his spare key in one pocket and a bundle of stolen zipties in the other. A perfectly-ironed pillowcase from the linen closet tucked into his waistband. A roll of duct tape around one wrist. A sick, giddy twist in his stomach.

Without warning, Lando goes limp in his grip, slumping back against his chest. It hits Oscar how easy it is to manhandle him, despite the fact that they’re not hugely mismatched in terms of height and weight. He’s strong, and Lando’s scared, or pretending to be. Oscar tightens his core and knows, deep and sick in his heart, that he could overpower Lando.

He also knows that if Lando starts talking, he’ll lose confidence. He’s clutching the persona to himself like a shield, but it only works when Lando can’t pick holes in it.

“Don’t talk,” he says, and without giving Lando any time to figure out what’s happening, he drags the pillowcase out of his back pocket, snaps it at his side to unfold it – Lando flinches at the sound – and drags it over Lando’s head.

It snags on Lando’s nose, scrapes down his cheeks. He hears Lando start to say something, unintelligible and high-pitched. He’d be mad about that, wouldn’t he, if he was – if it was real. He’d punish Lando for disobeying his demand. Scare him, make him realise he’s not fucking about.

Oscar grasps a handful of the pillowcase into the nape of Lando’s neck and twists his wrists, pulling the material taut across Lando’s face.

He’d tried it out himself, feeling like a lunatic in his bedroom with a pillowcase over his head, but he could breathe through it, that was the main thing.

“I said don’t talk.”

He has to let go of Lando to get at the end of the duct tape, half-expects him to run or yank the pillowcase off immediately. But he stays where he is, chest heaving with his panicked breaths. He looks different already. Holding himself small and scared, cowering in on himself.

Oscar squares his shoulders, pulls his spine to its fullest extension so his shadow looms big across the light filtering through the pillowcase. Hopes it’s the last thing Lando sees before he wraps the tape across his eyes.

Lando looks terribly vulnerable when Oscar’s done with him.

He doesn’t look like Lando at all, now – faceless, any rich young guy with a personal trainer and designer loungewear. His head looks borderline monstrous, taped up like a discarded Christmas tree, and the part of Oscar that knows this is all fake aches for him.

“That okay?” he says quietly.

He’d mapped out the shape of Lando’s face as he’d wrapped, made sure not to cover his nostrils, but it’s surprisingly hard to tell in the moment, all his careful plans fraying at their edges.

Lando nods, and Oscar takes a moment to breathe. He touches the back of Lando’s neck in acknowledgement, a silent reassurance that they both understand the terms of engagement here. Lines himself up behind Lando, anticipating the way he does in the car. Accesses that cold, cruel part of himself and asks himself what it would do next, if it could do anything.

Because he can, now, can’t he? Do anything. To Lando.

fic ask game!

#prompt fill #mctwinks #answered

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aechii · 1 year

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can you write something about like trent fucking up real bad and hes like groveling real hard but shes hesitant to take him back but he’ll do anything

₍⁠₍ SECOND CHANCE ₎⁠₎

A/N ?! this has been rotting in my inbox for weeks, to the anon who requested this, i am very sorry. enjoy this iggggg

trent might as well be faceless, a blurred, black rubbed-out face, standing in front of [y/n] with potent regret. it makes the air stink, the girl can barely stand being in his presence, but he had begged her to let them talk it out, settle any misunderstandings that they 'both definitely have'. [y/n] had wanted to snap back, say that she understood him loud and clear, and what she had seen was displayed right before her like she was meant to see it, but she instead, wants to see what bullshit he comes up with now.

he stands there, slumped and looking as if he was the one that was the victim, and all [y/n] can do is glare, expectant for whatever ignorant explanation was going to come.

"so?"

he drags a hand down his face, looks at her with his eyebrows slanted downwards and eyes pleading, and it amplifies the ever-growing detest that festers in her flesh. she looks away, and trent immediately protests.

"[y/n], baby, look at me."

"are you gonna fucking speak or what, trent?" she sees how her tone, acrid and completely seething, strikes him like a baseball bat to the head, but she remains flippant to it. what she feels is unparalleled.

"okay- look, it's not what it looks like?"

"bullshit. that's what you lot always fucking say. what is then? you didn't invite her to your game, and people didn't take pictures of you hugging her like she's your girl?"

trent doesn't say anything, he can't because he knows there's no discrepancy to what [y/n] saw.

"right. says a lot about you, doesn't it? telling me you love me but the second we have an argument, you storm out and take a random chick to a home game." it sickens her to say it, both know that matches based on their home ground is a sentiment for them, surrounded by their people, on their grass. the cherry to the cake was that they had won the match, exceedingly.

"i'm sorry, [y/n], i really am. i just- i panicked, alright-"

"you fucking panicked?" the cackle that stabs the hostile bedroom startles trent, and he flinches as he watches her agitatedly.

"you're bullshitting out of your ass trent. i don't even know why i'm standing here listening to you." she needs to leave, can't stand the man trying to make her see eye to eye as if he what he did was justified. she makes her way to the door, but a hand pulls her back and she immediately slaps it away. his touch burns, and not in the way it used to.

"[y/n], i said i'm sorry. please, forgive me, i'm begging you."

"don't tell me what to do," her voice is hard, rooted in so much anger that she's surprised she can let even a word out.

trent, forever persistent, begs more, "let us talk things out like adults, alright? i can't lose you like this. i'll do anything, i promise."

nothing but disbelief strikes her dumb. she can't process the fact that trent is no longer recognisable, so stupid and so incompetent to realise that his own actions had pushed her away.

she gives him one glance over, then gives him a plastic smile, "do one thing for me then, trent."

the way hope shines in his eyes is, quite frankly, pathetic, and it only fuels her to burn it more. he doesn't deserve happiness after this, she thinks, and he especially doesn't deserve anything from her.

"leave me the fuck alone. you're dead to me."

#work de aechii 🫧#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold imagines #trent alexander x you #trent alexander imagines #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold angst #trent alexander arnold x you

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inciting-chaos-series · 2 years

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REQUEST:

Hello chaos!

Can you do a corpse x reader where the reader is the oldest and most famous faceless YouTuber and during an interview they are both in, corpse talks about how much he admires and is inspired by the reader?

omg yes anon lmao so cute. I hope you like!

-J The Ghost

死 Requests Masterpost 死 Request Topics 死 Submit A Request 死

➢ Author: J The Ghost ➢ Pairings: Corpse X reader, Corpse X y/n ➢ WC: ~2k ➢ Themes: | One-shot | Youtubers | Fanboy! Corpse | Youtuber! Reader | Famous! Reader | ➢ Warnings: anxiety? ➢ Summary: You're a hugely famous faceless youtube creator. Anthony Padilla has both you and Corpse (and others ig) on for another interview and you find out Corpse is a HUGE fan of yours.

Request: The "Face" Of Youtube Horror

Corpse attempted to calm his nerves, his leg bouncing incessantly while he waited for everyone to show. He hadn’t done an interview in nearly three years, certainly not since he’d blown up this much. If you asked him then if he thought he’d ever be here again he’d laugh. In his mind, he was certain he would’ve been forgotten about by now- fallen off, gotten canceled, become old news- yet here he was, bigger than ever.

“You feeling alright, bud?” Anthony entered the green room and handed him a water that he graciously accepted.

“Y-Yeah I just… I’m still so anxious, you know?” Corpse spoke a little too quickly before catching his breath and taking a sip of water.

“I get it… but it’s okay man, obviously I’m gonna blur out everyone's faces again, and no one is gonna dox you or anything.” Anthony sat by him and patted his back, trying to reassure him.

“I know, I just- can’t help it I guess…” Corpse paused for a moment and took a breath, grateful that he’d become so close with Anthony now, “...has everyone shown up then?”

“Yeah, Dark5 is here, Fascinating Horror, and y/n from The Graveyard Channel just showed up.”

“Wait… you’re interviewing y/n? The Graveyard channel?” He questioned anxiously, his heart rate spiking at the mention of them.

“Yeah, we had a last minute cancellation and I was scrambling a bit…” Anthony chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I messaged a few other possible fill-ins. I was just as shocked that somehow they were available… that's showbiz though right?” He laughed again as he stood to head over to the set. “We're gonna get started though, if you want to watch before your interview.” Corpse swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded before following him out.

The first interview with Dark 5 went well. Corpse stayed towards the back of the room behind the camera operators as he watched. He’d enjoyed watching but spent the majority of the interview talking with the creator behind Fascinating Horror, or scoping out for y/n of The Graveyard channel. He felt completely out of place. Every creator here today had heavily inspired his own content, but y/n had definitely been the biggest inspiration by far. He hugely respected the way they ran their channel, creating videos about the content they wanted to. They had really paved the way for him in terms of ‘faceless, dark/horror variety youtuber’ with their comedic horror game play-throughs, sarcastic reaction videos, and especially the creepypasta reads videos. He felt foolish for being so worked up but he couldn't deny the starstruck feelings running through him, and he hadn’t even seen or met them, yet.

---

Next on the set was y/n after the first two interviews finished. They were cued to be on soon while they took a few deep breaths. They thanked the crew member and made their way to the set. They weren't really nervous per say, just unprepared. Because they’d filled in for someone else, they really didn’t have much idea of what really would be asked during the interview- or how this all would work. Anthony had given them a bit of a run-down of it all but they were still left with a feeling of being caught off guard by it all.

They stopped off to the side of the set while waiting for Anthony to finish up the introduction bit. Once he gave them the cue, they took one last deep breath and stepped up to the set and sat beside him.

“Y/n! It’s so crazy- and fitting- to have you here today, what with you being the oldest, and largest horror content creator on the platform, and doing all of it faceless nonetheless.” Anthony introduced, almost humbly. They beamed back at the compliments he earnestly dropped, despite his “host” youtuber voice on full display. Corpse stood behind the cameras again and watched y/n settle in with a dumbfounded yet adoring expression

“It’s great to be here! I almost didn’t answer your DM honestly, with all these “verified” accounts on Twitter I thought, certainly this can’t be the Anthony Padilla messaging me…” They joked easily, earning a hardy laugh from everyone.

“I’d say that’s a valid concern now- considering comedy is now illegal…” Anthony quipped back, pausing and looking at the camera before continuing- a move that was sure would be edited heavily with comedic burns, and or disclaimers. “But tell me, how does it feel knowing that you have paved the way into this new genre of content for- really everyone here? And done so with such wild success?” He asked more seriously as he turned back.

“Oh god, um I mean- it is crazy, like you said. I never expected any of this really. I just wanted to see this content I guess, and I never really found much. So I started to make the content I was interested in and wanted to see. I guess I’m glad to have helped others do the same, but it really doesn't feel like I’ve done much honestly...” Y/n laughed, a bit embarrassed by the importance and influence he’d implied.

“Oh come on, you’ve definitely done more than you’re giving yourself credit for.” He chuckled. “But it's interesting to hear that you didn’t see much of the niche for what you wanted, so you decided to create it yourself. Obviously being faceless hasn't restricted you too much, but has it made that more difficult to work around?”

“I don’t think so, no… I mean, obviously there’s ideas and concepts I can’t do because I chose to stay anonymous- but I have usually been able to find a work around for whatever idea I have that turns out better in the end.”

The interview continued for a while. Anthony asked about several other topics and asked a few fan questions before y/n finished up. They thanked him before heading off to the side of the set, taking a seat and settling in to watch the rest of the interview.

---

“Corpse! How are you doing man? It’s been a while since you were last on!” Anthony greeted happily.

“Yeah, yeah it has…” Corpse chuckled nervously as he sat beside him.

“You’ve really blown up since you were last here- you’re making all this music now- and playing Among Us…”

“Yeah… it’s- terrifying.” He laughed dryly, trying to ignore the fanboy feeling from watching y/n be interviewed just before him.

“I can only imagine, I mean- just before we started filming you were freaking out in the other room…” Anthony chuckled.

“Well yeah, I mean- I’ve gotten a lot more followers since then… plus you brought up that y/n was here…”

“That made you more anxious?” Anthony joked softly, his “host” act less obvious now since they’d become friends over the years between meeting.

“Very.” Corpse stated emphatically. “I mean like you said they paved the way for the rest of us… I’ve watched their channel since the beginning and they were what really inspired me to start making videos…” Corpse quickly glanced over to where he’d seen them walk off set and sit before nervously continuing. “I really admire them, all their work is amazing.” His eyes trailed down to the floor while he nervously twisted his rings around. A habit he always found himself returning to when being watched.

“Oh so you’re fanboying hard right now?” Anthony joked with a chuckle.

“A little yeah…” Corpse chuckled along with him, “It’s just crazy, like I’ve blown up so much- but only because y/n carved out that path for us- and because I was so heavily inspired by their content…” He continued, rubbing at the back of his heated neck as he sat restlessly in the chair.

---

Corpse was relieved to be finished with the interview, quickly making his way to the table in the back for a water while his nerves finally started to calm.

“Hey… Corpse right?” Y/n questioned as they approached him.

“Wh- um… Yeah?” Corpse stuttered softly, the nerves and anxiety all flooding back when he met their eyes.

“Nice to meet you…” they laughed softly, flashing a kind smile “...what you said up there was really sweet.”

“Oh- um, yeah.” He tried to slink back against the table with embarrassment. “Sorry for fanboying or whatever…”

“Don’t be! Honestly… I’m a fan of yours too- it’s crazy to hear that I inspired you…” y/n laughed nervously before continuing, “I wanted to ask though if maybe you would want to collab or something? I think we could make some really great videos together…”

“I- wh- wait seriously?” Corpse stuttered again, feeling his face heat up as he tried to collect himself.

“Yeah, our humor is really similar- and it seems like we're into the same kind of horror topics…” y/n smiled and shrugged nonchalantly, “Why not?”

“I’m definitely down…” A huge goofy grin flashed across his face as he exchanged numbers with his biggest inspiration. He would absolutely need to thank Anthony later.

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alitheakorogane · 2 years

Text

My Genshin Impact SAGAU Masterlist

Made a master list for my SAGAU content so you won't get lost. Will be updated with new content.

Will always be updated as soon as a new SAGAU content comes by!

Reader's Protection Squad Series (SAGAU Imposter AU)

Freedom's Protection (Mondstadt)

STATUS: Still in the works!

The Two Imposters - Our beloved protagonist had finally met the Anemo Archon himself. Is he really one of your allies in surviving in this world where people wanted to kill you for 'stealing' the face of the Divine Creator or is he one of them?

May the Anemo Archon Protect You - You were chased out by your beloved characters from Mondstadt who thought that you were the imposter that 'stole' the face of the person you remembered who never even exist in the game files. Meanwhile, their own disguised Archon had done something stupid that could change everything forever.

A Blasphemy or The Truth? - Venti's outburst shocks everyone, making the people of Mondstadt question everything they knew about their Archon.

Stirring Up a Hurricane - The bomb was finally dropped, leaving nothing but a series of chain reactions spreading around the area... Literally. Venti revealed himself as the Anemo Archon Barbatos to his people as a last resort for defending you, causing the entire nation of Mondstadt to go into chaos.

The Eye of the Anemo Archon's Anguish - Venti had accidentally raised a wind barrier to defend you, your friends, and himself... but it caused some people to suffer the brunt of the Swirl reaction and activated his underlying trauma, causing him to lose control of his emotions and his power. As he was getting close to a nervous breakdown, the people noticed that the skies above the city of Mondstadt are starting to change.

Please Forgive Me - Venti tries to visit you while you're still recovering from your injuries and tries to apologize. At the same time, you found out the truth about the Divine Creator from Venti.

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Glitching Impact (Corrupted Game SAGAU)

STATUS: Title is STC, while still plotting ideas for this concept...

The Original Corrupted Game!SAGAU Concept of

Corrupted Game!SAGAU, but loosely based on Wreck-It Ralph...

Plot twist Idea Based on Corrupted Game!SAGAU

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Random SAGAU Oneshot Stories

"Who's your favorite Genshin Impact character?"

Just A Normal Genshin Impact Game Time...Is It?

SAGAU featuring the Unusual Hilichurl (Wei)

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SAGAU Fanarts

Corrupted Game AU - Venti (Based on Faceless Ayato concept)

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Random SAGAU Ideas and Thoughts

What if the Seven Gnoses are actually fragments of the Divine Creator's Soul?

What would happen if Venti got the same treatment as the Reader in those angsty SAGAU fics?

SAGAU and Regarding the Artifacts!

Short Villain!SAGAU Dialogue (1)

Short Villain!SAGAU Dialogue (2)

SAGAU (Imposter AU), but you have a snarky personality and a fiery tongue.

My SAGAU Playlist (Imposter AU) - PART ONE

Heights in SAGAU

Wishing for Characters Despite You Haven't Met Them Yet In-Lore

Kaveh: From a Humble Architect to a Man of Destruction? (Based on the now-confirmed recent hack using Kaveh)

Imagine Playable Characters Saying This (Screenshot came from a quest in Genshin Impact 4.8)

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Reply to SAGAU-related Asks from Anon

How I Will Portray the Archons In My Twist of the Imposter AU

Venti's Characterization In Reader's Protection Squad

U alive???

A Teaser for The Eye of the Anemo Archon's Anguish

We will give him the best treatment that our beloved Venti deserves.

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Random Incorrect Quotes for SAGAU

Among Us

Arrows With Love

Does Barbatos even know the existence of dental hygiene?

Chased Out By Obsessed People

Venti reacting on his SAGAU!Imposter/Cult AU self and his insane actions

Making Fun of Venti's Terrible Aim

Zhongli's Meteors Probably the Cause of the Dinosaurs' Extinction

Memory of Dust

Peace Was Never An Option

A Suggestion: Drinking Contest

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orangetintedglasses · 1 year

Text

Anonymous said: Aw, how cute! I'm sure your puppet self would love the undertaker like this, a little doll to have and to hold all he wanted. Maybe we should let him come back, hm? M!A: Dress Up Doll (24 hours)

This time, his reaction is... less fearful, eyes bright and icy as they flick up to glower at the anon. His voice is low and filled with venom, downright growling in response--

"Try anything and I will make it your problem. He's not coming back."

#m!a: dress up doll ( 24 hours )#( game tip: I won't allow that rn LMAO )#( we JUST got over Remade )#( BUT. keep this in your back pocket for later because I will eventually allow it )#curtains up ✧〗( ic )#radio waves to the brain ✧〗( ask response )#the faceless crowd ✧〗( anon ask )

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jazeswhbhaven · 2 months

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Wish good health and positive vibes to that salt anon, bless their salty heart.

With the MC stuff going down I think I felt I identified a few things. We know what happened with MC's parents but it's never been touched at all and I think PB made a huge mistake. Because that part is probably a good start to give some flesh on that bone that does nothing but bone every devil. Hence why people are complaining that MC is horny...yes it's a horny game but MC's only personality is that and that can fall short without any substance, or clash with the story.

The real questions that need to be ask is: What is WHB MC doing in the story to give them any merit? The answer is: not much. We could give them merit during the end of Chapter 3-4 with Nina and Leamas...but then the dildo thing ruined it. And speaking from the narrative...what else do we know about the MC? They're Solomon's descendant, and for the devils, Solomon was the big deal and very dear to them. But again, this is where the writing falls short. I remembered there was an argument about if the devils even value MC because they're MC and not Solomon's descendant but I won't touch on that we know the devils like MC and it's really just plot armor. I shouldn't be sitting here reading and wondering what EXACTLY makes the devils LIKE MC? Because MC barely has done a lick of anything than sit there and watch, oogles devils, gets kidnapped, gets hanged, etc etc. I guess for me, MC isn't impressive which I expect from a faceless character, they're frustrating because all they have going for them is their horny thoughts but they're ragdolled throughout the chapters and haven't done anything useful even though they're the key for this war deal going on(I swear if chapter 6 makes them a joke again I'm killing everyone in the room), and honestly any sort of situations that's meant to be funny isn't funny to me unless it's just the devils interacting. Then again I enjoy taking a backseat and watching characters interact than any MC in any game.

On a lighter note: if someone as useless as MC can have 6(7) kings and that many devils wanting their dick/cooch then please open the gates and ship all of us to Hell. Unlike MC who dawdles there, we're ALL willing.

Dialing back to answer some old inbox asks before all the new stuff happened (phewihavealottocatchupon)

But yes anon, I wonder though if your opinion on MC is the same after chapter 6 if you've finished it? I'd like to hear your thoughts now that we've seen a bit of push back from MC and them at least vocalizing things this time around.

Now since I don't know if you've finished the chapter, I won't go into too much detail but they DID slip up and it made me shake my head. But at the same time...they're human and perhaps that slip up was bond to happen. (if you did finish it and you know what I'm talking about feel free to chime in on that)

Without getting into Chapter 6, I feel that MC is indeed not giving me much to go on for the valid reason of their plot armor. I'm sure they can help with the entire underground lab thing that's going on, but from what I gather...chapter 7 is probably going to piss off most of us when it gets down to the wire of what MC needs to do.

But that's just my early predictions, I already feel my dread coming from that cliffhanger....

#whb #jwhbasks❓#cw whbmchate #chapter 6 discussions #mc takes

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night-market-if · 1 year

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Stop making excuses, I get the fact that it is your game and all but you should remain neutral, it's like you make the game only for people who feel sorry for a guy that betrayed and stabbed the damn mc and don't like people who are pissed. It's your game you created it so you can do whatever the hell you want with it but you released it to the public you can't expect everyone to feel what you feel and have the same opinion as you about a controversial character, grow up.

Oh, crap. I forgot, anon. I'm so sorry. I completely forgot that I am supposed to not share what I feel about my own work or have an opinion on, as you said, my game. I forget that when you create something for the rest of the world to enjoy (at their own choosing) you have to become nameless and voiceless.

I also forgot that if I don't agree with something someone says, I'm supposed to shut up and not have thoughts or feelings about it because only readers are allowed to have thoughts and feelings on things. My mistake for forgetting that I'm supposed to write and create and spend hours of my life doing all this for your enjoyment and then when someone doesn't enjoy it, I'm supposed to smile. Thank you so much for reminding me, anon.

I wasn't aware that I was expecting everyone to feel the same way I did either. I'll examine that and remember now that everyone elses thought and feelings are valid but my own. And I should completely not state my concern over people wanting me to write violence to a character that is abused. Because, as well always know, fiction never is supposed to be a discourse. I will from here on out remember that despite this being something I live and breathe and have passion for, I'll need to temper my passion and keep it to myself because as a content creator, we are only here to provide services for others and if we disagree, we need to grow up. And in no way do I feel like your "grow up" comment also applies to you since you seem to be upset that I don't agree with you.

Anon, I thank you. I forgot that I am faceless, thoughtless, and need to just pump out a million words in a year to everyone elses standards. Your anonymous comment on the internet with no name attached behind it has for sure made me see the error of my ways.

#the night market

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throwaway-yandere · 7 months

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the otome game is very well made and i had a lotta fun (it was more fun rejecting diluc ehehehe)

it was super fun! and i was so invested i forgot to save my game

-🐌

🪽 okazaki-dev-team Follow

[link to the yan!diluc otome SAGAU game]

Aww shucks! Thank you so much, 🐌 anon! We appreciate the support! Don't worry, I'm sure Diluc wouldn't mind if you forgot to save, just come back if his route gets finished ❤️ We'll continue making it a full game if there's enough interest!

(2 notes)

🎫 ansy-tea Follow

If more people played the game I'd probably go crazy and make a secret Scara and Haitham route for shts and giggles ngl lmfao

⬛ faceless-ayato Follow

W h y a m I n o t r o m a n c e a b l e y e t?

🎫 ansy-tea Follow

Bleuuughhh. Please boss, it's not like you and this ayato are the same person-

#tw: unreality #tag: otome game au

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ryuichirou · 4 months

Text

Replies

Happy Saturday; a couple of short replies today.

Anonymous asked:

I sound dumb but on kofi I noticed that some of your drawings were labeled Fellow and Mob and there was one on Bluesky for Epel and Mob. Who or what or when is Mob? Is this the dude from Scott Pilgrim?

You are not dumb, Anon! No worries.

“Mob” is basically the same as “just random faceless guy/girl”. Here is a definition from this site:

In Japanese, モブ (short for モブキャラクター) refers to a character who plays a minor role in anime/manga/games.

Dorm students from TWST (the ones that aren’t our main characters) are technically all Mob, like Scarabia student B, Heartslabyul student A, etc. This term is also frequently used in doujins when a character is being paired with some rando, i.e. some pervy old man or just some faceless student. In case with Fellow and Epel it was a pervy old man...

But now I can’t stop thinking about Mobile sleeping around lol

Anonymous asked:

ryu i just wanted to let you know that your aot art still lives rent free in my mind specially the ereri ones you were such a visionary omg !!!! but your new drawings are just as beautiful <3

Oh my god, Ereri!

Thank you so much for your kindness, Anon! Hearing that it such a blast from the past, I can’t believe it’s been 3 years already… I am very excited to apply everything I’ve learned over these years art-wise to more Ereri stuff in the future (whenever it’ll be). So it’s great to hear that there are people who still remember us and our content with these two <3

I am very happy you like my new stuff as well, it means a lot!

Anonymous asked:

Was at a con last weekend and you were like every person's at the twst meetup favorite artist I'm not even kidding

No way… 😭 This is incredibly sweet, thank you very much!

In all honesty though, it really is very surprising, but amazing nonetheless. I am very happy to hear that. It’s hard to even imagine that I exist... irl? In other people’s lives? Idk how to put it.

Thank you for sharing, and I hope you (and everyone else) enjoyed the con.

Anonymous asked:

I wish I had an Idia dakimakura. No question just wanted to share my woes. I need to squeeze the life out of him :(

Honestly, I think a lot of lives would have been improved with an Idia dakimakura… He is very squeezable :”(

Anonymous asked:

I've been having the most intense Lilia/Idia thoughts lately and I just wanted to share them if you're interested.

Cause Idia and Lilia are gaming buddies, yeah?

And I just can't stop thinking about how if they were playing a game with comms, there could be other people there or not but having other people there makes it more fun, and Lilia just messing with Idia so hard.

Just saying the dirtiest stuff and Idia's on the other side of the comms blowing a fuse from all the stuff Lilia's saying.

And if there was people there and they heard that, then Idia would have to deal with the questions later and he'd blow a fuse again just out of embarrassment.

Maybe that's a strange thought to have, but I just wanted to share it cause why not?

LOL poor random people who have to play with these two fuckers! On the other hand, it’s probably very entertaining to listen to them lol

It’s also funny that Crimson Muscle seems to have kind of strict and mature, yet unexpectedly playful vibe, so the image in Idia’s head is very specific. But once they learn each other’s identity… maybe Lilia would start acting like his gremlin self more. He really could make Idia blow a fuse if he wanted to…

No matter what happens, people around them are going to think they’re dating lol

#replies

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