#I WANT TO BASH MY SKULL AGAINST A TABLE

[ratatatastic]

the amount of offseason :] we've gotten from this guy is truly spectacular

look at him...look at the gentle :]

7.12.24 (x)

[mawofthemagnetar]

Father's Day

“So, hold on a minute,” Iskall held his hands up, “back up, because I must have missed that. You’re a FATHER?”

“Well, yeah?” Jevin shrugged, scrolling through his comm, “What’s so hard about that to believe?”

Iskall, by way of a reply, simply gestured at Jevin’s person from his head to his slimy feet.

“So? Okay, yeah, I guess it- is a little hard to fathom. I do, uh, have a certain- aura of coolness around me. But yeah, no, I’m a dad. And a damn good one, too. I mean, a slime-dad, which is a little different than a regular dad. But for a slime-dad, I’m top-shelf. Of course.”

“Uh-huh. And how does a slime-dad differ from a regular dad?” Iskall folded his arms.

“I don’t gotta, uh, chase after my kids as much as you guys do. They’re pretty much ready to go once they hit full-size. I do my bit by checking up on them periodically. Anyway, point is, I gotta go. My kids are throwing a father’s day bash, and I can’t be late.”

Iskall rubbed his temples.

“Okay, couple questions. One, father’s day was three months ago. Two, is there a Missus Jevin you’ve got stashed away somewhere? Or a Mister Jevin? Or-“

“…Why would another person be involved?” Jevin asked, tilting his head with a squish of slime, “Like, literally, why? Who needs help to become a parent?”

“…Uh…you know what? No. You want to learn about the parrots and the bats, go talk to Keralis.”

“Sure, whatever. Anyway, to answer your second question, it’s ‘cause if you try to do father’s day on the actual, like, day, renting a big enough hall is stupid expensive and it’s all just kind of dumb. And a hassle. So we host it whenever.”

Jevin glanced up from his comm.

“Wanna come? Meet my kids, I mean.”

Iskall rubbed his forehead.

“Sure, why not. Hit me with it.”

They tapped their comms together, and Jevin clacked his jaw together- the slime equivalent of a smile.

“Okay, so uh…All my kids know you guys as their aunts and uncles. So if they start calling you “auntie Iskall-“

“-Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m used to it.” Iskall nodded, “Should I wear something special?” 

Jevin waved a hand. 

“Nah, don’t worry about it. You’re fine as you are. Anyway, let’s go. Not good to keep my kids waiting!” 

And Jevin tapped a few options on his comm and vanished. 

<iJevin has left the game.> 

Iskall shrugged, tapped over to his server list, and selected the option for the Hub, with the teleport coordinates visible in the centre. 

He tapped it, and vanished. 

<Iskall85 has left the game.>

When Iskall opened his eyes again, he was standing outside a colossal building, looking like some kind of conference centre. It was made of smooth quartz, with a fake parking lot full of fake vehicles that had clearly taken some builder a long time to put together. 

Jevin was standing there, tapping his sneaker impatiently, the blue slime slosh-slosh-sloshing against the ground. 

“Alright, c’mon, let’s get moving.” Jevin huffed, “We’re already a couple minutes late, and my kids worked really hard to put this on.” 

“I’m coming, I’m coming…” Iskall muttered, brushing off his pants and following Jevin towards the doors.

Iskall was assuming that Jevin’s family would have set up a few tables in a corner. He was a slime; and the way Jevin was talking, Iskall had assumed a big family. Maybe ten kids? That would be a pretty big family. 

Then Jevin and Iskall stepped into the conference hall. 

“HAPPY FATHER’S DAY, DAD!” 

Several thousand slimes bellowed all at once, a wall of sound so deafening that Iskall could feel his bionic eye nearly shake out of its housing. 

He blinked his one eye, darting it around the room in shock. There were hundreds of small tables around which sat an unfathomable number of slimes in all colours of the rainbow. The room was a riot of wild fashion choices, and a deafening rumble of clattering bones and squelching bodies.

“I- I-” Iskall stammered, as he reached up and tightened the nut holding his robotic eye onto his skull’s mounting post.  

“HEY EVERYONE!” Jevin shouted back, “THANK YOU!” 

“Is that Uncle Iskall?” a deep voice said eagerly, “It’s so nice to meet you!” 

“You have…THOUSANDS…of children. Not ten. Not twenty. Not even a hundred. THOUSANDS.” Iskall stammered. 

“Yeah. I’m, uh, the father of all slime hybrids. It’s not a big deal, to be honest. Some other slime would’ve absorbed a skeleton and decided to think about itself if I hadn’t.” Jevin shrugged. 

“All. Of them. ALL OF THEM.” Iskall clutched his head in his hands.

“Yeah? It’s not that difficult. You just, like, shed some slime on a large enough pile of biomass, it’ll grow into a kid. How is this so confusing for you? That’s probably where humans come from.” Jevin shrugged. 

He rubbed his slimy hands together with a hideous squelch, and started traveling through the room, eagerly greeting each and every one of his kids. 

Iskall staggered over to the snack table, piled high with compost, cinderblocks, and beer. He popped a bottle, and started chugging it.

[tekumaniac311]

Gala talk

At a Space Rider gala event. All Space Rider groups were socializing, chilling out, singing or dancing in their fancy gala outfits. One among them was Dogbite sipping his own drink as he watched with..annoyance?

Dancing together out on the dance floor was his own second in command, Drago Kitano and with him, Craftycorn, the archivist for his brother's team. Drago was calmly smiling as he slow danced with her, Crafty looked transfixed in Drago's gaze as she went with the flow, a soft blush showing on her white cheeks.

Dogbite had been trying to get his team to avoid his brothers own squad, claiming that because they were "better" they have better things to do than hang out with "amateurs" unfortunately for him the "competition" have been growing closer and closer to eachother forming friendships, much to his dismay.

He then looked to his left to see another of Dogday's team Bubba Bubbaphant, socializing with his chef and communicator Mama Mammoth, from the looks they were walking together with her arm linked with his and giggling, sharing a nice conversation. Close to them was his medical expert Prettybird lending a hand to KickinChicken, with a smile on her beak Pretty winked at him, showing a makeup covered eyelid.

Nearby out on the dance floor, Leopardaisy was jamming out with Hoppy Hopscotch, at the refreshment table Catnap and Lean Lemur looked like they were just chatting, Catnap looked like he was giving words of assurance and Lemur was smiling through, understanding how things can be sometime. PickyPiggy was pouring FixFox a glass of punch for her, with FixFox thanking her and pouring a glass of punch for her in return.

As for Berserkerine, he was leaning against a wall, arms crossed. His usual place for he didn't like gala events, up til Bobby Bearhug came up to him, wanting to dance "Pweeeaaase." She asked the wolverine. "Sorry but..i don't do dancing, redbear." Berserk said to her. "TOO BAD!" Bobby shouted, startling Berserk as she took his hands "If you can "dance" around with those fists, surely you can dance with me." Berserkerine gave annoyed snarl at Bobby "Fine."

Dogday, Dogbite's brother and leader of the other team walked up next to him, amused. "It's nice that our teammates are getting along, huh?" Dogbite growled and took a sip of his drink, squeezing it and causing it to crack. "Hm." Was all he could mutter "Come on, what's the matter little bro?" Dogday asked smirking. "The matter, big brother? Okay, WHY exactly is my team, who i've built from the ground up, and lead into combat numerous times is hanging out with YOUR pack of clowns?" "Come on, Dogbite. Alienating your team ain't good, after all we're alike and on the same side--" Dogbite cut him off "No way, we're RIVALS, wanting to take out the Prototype first before the other can."

Strutting up to them was a cat in a masquerade mask, it was of course, Z. "What's going on here?" The masked cat asked "Oh god, it's him...What do YOU want?" The masqueraded cat just chuckled at the younger brothers spitefulness "Just to chill, besides Dogbite. You should really listen to your brother."

As Z began to explain, some of the gala guests began to put on...cult masks!!! And pull out weapons, they were prepared to attack. Z continued to talk to the two dogs unaware what was transpiring behind them.

"And from personal experience, who you call the pack of "clowns" I consider allies and buddies. You both maybe separate teams, but your both on the same SIDE." Z finished with a smile. "Watchout!!!" Shouted Drago from a distance, the three looked just in time to see Drago and Crafty duck to avoid a laser shot from a cultist before fighting back, and all around them they see the secret cult members attack the guests and other party goers.

Berserkerine and Bobby stopped dancing hearing the chaos "Alright! My kind of party!" He grinned and removed his blazer, ready to bash down some skulls and rushed at them. "And there he goes. :3" Bobby huffed amused, she saw a cultist come at her and ducked a swing, without a second thought, she reached for the punch bowl and tossed it at the cultist.

Leopardaisy and Hoppy already began to fight back, as did Prettybird, FixFox, Picky, Kickin, Catnap and Lemur. Bubba took a stick and whacked at the cultist who came at him and Mama, Mama meanwhile picked up the cake that she baked for this gala and slammed it onto the cultist's face. "Mama, didn't you bake that??" Bubba asked "I can bake another, baby." Mama said.

"Well, let's not let them have all the fun, I'll talk to ya later, captains." Z winked and strutted to the fighting, leaving Dogday a little bit flustered, Dogbite facepalmed "Ugh, let's just take em out! Betcha me and my pals will take out more cultists than yours!" A small batch of cultists approached the brothers "Always the competitive type, little brother.."

The two brothers stood side to side about to attack "As said, I ain't resting till I hear 'Little brother, you've always been better than me'." Dogbite said "Hmph, someday you'll see the bigger picture." Dogday commented.

And with that, the two dogs punch the POV of a cultist.

THE END

space riders belong to @onyxonline

[pervysenpaix]

Murphy's Law | Alpha! I. Midoriya

A/N: This has been sitting incomplete in my drafts for months because I lost interest but the beginning was cute and I didn't want it to go to waste so I wrote some shitty smut just cause, yeah. read it if you want I don't really care ☹️

TW! ABO dynamics, ProHero/Aged Up, Alpha!Deku, Omega! Reader, Clumsy Reader, Accident Prone reader, condescending deku, reader is attacked and deku saves her, yandere deku if you squint, strangers to lovers, vaginal fingering, marking, not proof read poorly written 💔

18+ NSFW Content| MDNI

   

Murphy’s Law, in its simplest form, claims that “anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. In other words—you were a walking fucking disaster. 

Absolutely accident-prone. Wherever you went, chaos followed. It had been that way your whole life. You’d labeled yourself as a “clutz” thanking God that you were lucky enough to never get seriously hurt from your negligence, but it seemed that your luck was running out.

The chill of the night air did nothing to quell the sweat beading from your flesh. Brisk wind nipped at your skin, exacerbating the potent stench of a frightened omega. Yes, you were clumsy and, at times, forgetful but you always remembered to wear your blockers! 

It was just a crazy morning, and you were running late, and you assumed that it would be fine because you lived so close to the restaurant. But you didn’t expect the place to be so busy, or for your boss to have you stay an extra hour. Then two. Then four. And before you knew it you were doing a double closing shift because you were the only one available. Poor unlucky you.

That lack of luck continued when you begrudgingly passed a rowdy pack of males that were congregating outside of a liquor store. You ignored their whistles and lewd comments, clutching your bag and picking up the pace. Most of the men shrugged it off, calling you a tease or a “stuck up bitch”, but one pair of lustful eyes lingered—the same pair that were getting dangerously close. Just a few more strides and—

“Caught ‘ya!”, he growled. 

The fowl stench of alcohol mixed with the alpha’s licorice like musk made your stomach lurch. You struggled in his grasp, screaming, flailing your arms and kicking wildly until you landed a good hit on your assailant who didn’t appreciate it at all. 

“Stupid bitch” he grunts, wrapping his hands around your strands and bashing your head against the brick wall. Pain blooms in your skull and you feel yourself quickly losing consciousness but before darkness consumed you—you don’t miss the emergence of an earthy aroma soured with anger followed by a blur of green. 

Then nothing. 

A scent reminiscent of lush forest meadows and the sound of light tapping and beeping pulls you from your slumber. It was a welcomed change from the potent odor emitting from that feral alpha last night. The memory overcomes any lingering drowsiness, and you bolt upright. 

The tapping stops.

The sudden movement proved un-advantageous. Bile rose in your throat with dark spots clouding your vision. A figure emerges from the corner of the dimly lit room reaching your side in a fraction of a second. His scarred hand holds a basin to your face, and you ungraciously empty the contents of your stomach. It’s painful and unsightly. You search for something to ground yourself settling for his thick wrist while you sob and dry heave over the container. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” His voice was soft and soothing, but still held confidence. “I am here”.  Soft purrs rumbled from the alpha’s chest, while you retched beside him. Moments later, the alpha placed the basin on the bedside table and brought a damp towel to your face. Gently, he cleaned your face. It wasn’t until the cloth left your skin that your eyes fluttered open settling on the stranger. 

A gorgeous set of gemstone visionaries met your own. Sparkling with warmth and a hint of mischief and slightly covered by forest green strands from his messy undercut. Plush pink lips were pulled a slight smirk, highlighting the trademark dusting of freckles on his nose and cheeks. 

“You’re… You’re— Deku” he finished for you, flashing a close-eyed smile. “And you’re (Y/N) (L/N), recessive omega, correct?” 

You blinked. “I- yes … How did you—

“Well, you dropped your purse during the attack, and I got your name from your ID card. As for your second gender, sweetheart a beta would smell you even with all the suppressants they have you on. What happened to your blockers?”

An inexplicable feeling of shame was brought on by his furrowed brow and sudden condescending tone.

“I didn’t take them this morning… I forgot”, you tried to look anywhere but his face. You could feel the disapproval in his stare.

The alpha shook his head and frowned.

“That was extremely reckless. An unmarked omega with a scent as strong as yours should never leave the house without some form of suppressant.” He paused, leaning forward to sniff your hair. “Do you not have a partner or anyone to check on you?” 

 Your face felt extremely hot as you shook your head “no”.

“I see...” he continued with a smirk, “Do I need to inform the nurse that you lack a babysitter?” 

“A b-babysitter!?!? I don’t need a—I’m not a baby!” you sputtered, gaping at the large man. He brought a finger to your chin and closed your mouth, earning a cute squeak at the contact. “Oh? But big girls wouldn’t forget to take their blockers, especially if they’re going to be out so late. Do you understand what could’ve happened if I wasn’t patrolling the area?”

“Yes but—

“So, you knew better but still didn’t do better. That doesn’t sound like an adult thing to do.” He cooed; lips upturned to mimic your pout.

“No!” you snapped, ignoring the Pro-Hero’s raised brow. “That’s not it! I never usually forget, it was just a busy morning and I live close to my job, so I didn’t think it be a big deal but then my boss kept asking me to stay and it got later and later, and—

“So, what you’re telling me is that you’re not only forgetful but a pushover as well?” He stated matter-of-factly.

“Wha— y-you’re mean”

 Izuku wouldn’t admit it, but he loved the way your bottom lip trembled and your eyes watered due to his words. You looked like a defiant child. Absolutely helpless and in need of a caretaker. A hero. 

“I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to hurt your little feelings, but it’s my job as a hero to make sure that people are safe. Don’t you not want me to do my job?”

More guilt. Here was the number 1 hero trying to ensure your safety, but you were acting like a little brat. Maybe you aren’t a “big girl”.

“m’sorry” your voice was small, but he obviously heard you, humming for you to continue. “I didn’t mean to sound rude. It’s just that I have really bad luck and it’s frustrating that I always get in these positions. Thank you for saving me though, Mr. Deku”.

That’s interesting, he thought, hoping you’d elaborate on what you meant by “bad luck” but when you didn’t continue, he just smiled.

“Just doing my job!”.

A few weeks have passed, and things progressed normally. Izuku found himself thinking of you from time to time but it’s fleeting. He’ll catch himself visualizing those pouty lips upturned into a frown as he scolded you and sometimes, he imagined your deliciously sweet scent. Like right now, as he patrolled the streets his senses were suddenly flooded with your delicate saccharine aroma. It was a welcomed distraction from the repetition of his route since things had been slow today. His inner alpha grew restless from the blossoming scent that seemed to get stronger and stronger.

The observant hero scanned the area but saw no immediate signs of you. It wasn’t until he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply that he realized that you were two streets over in the college district, so he started to head in your direction. Your scent wasn’t as potent as it was during your first encounter, a sign that you’d remembered your blockers, but it would be impossible for him to miss since it was embedded in his mind. 

Turning the corner, he saw you frantically running up the sidewalk towards one of the university buildings. A report folder was clutched in your fingers with your bag propped haphazardly on your shoulder. It was apparent that you were a student and running late. You babbled frantically into the phone that was balanced between your ear and shoulder, so engrossed in the conversation that you didn’t notice a speeding car until it was blaring its horn after you walked into the streets without looking. You stared at the vehicle like a deer in headlights, unable to do anything but accept your doom. But then electricity crackled in the air, and you were whirled to the safety of the university stairs. 

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this”, the hero smirked down at you. It was comical watching the little gears turning in your head realizing that Deku had saved your life yet again. There wasn’t much time to admire him in the hospital but right now you were close enough to count each freckle in the diamond formation on his cheeks. He was so handsome. And it felt so good in his arms. So safe. 

“I— You were interrupted by the ringing of your phone. “Shit!” you cursed, pushing off the hero and running towards the doors. “Thanks, Mr. Deku!

“And then there was one” Deku muttered, slightly pissed at your rudeness. This was the second time he’d saved your life. Where was your gratitude? Entitled brat, he thought. What he wouldn’t give for a chance to correct your behavior. 

A week later, incognito Deku was heading out to enjoy the day. It was his first off day in weeks, and he decided to treat himself to a nice meal. He decided on a western style café/bakery that Kirishima had recommended a few weeks ago. Upon entering, he was immediately met with your confectionary scent. Izuku remembered that you worked at a restaurant and since you weren’t Japanese, he assumed that this was your place of employment. 

Izuku approached the dining counter, waiting to be served, and was pleasantly surprised when you came from the back to take his order. 

“Welcome! What can I get started for you today?” you chirped sweetly. 

“Hmm—a proper thanks would be nice”. You stilled at the familiarity of the voice, squinting at the unknown patron. Izuku pulled his mask down revealing his familiar array of freckles and pretty plump lips. “Its you” you smiled, leaning forward with your elbows against the counter. The action presented your exposed cleavage nicely and Izuku found himself licking his lips. “It’s me” he rasped, eyes traveling between your chest and face. 

The action did not go unnoticed, but you chose not to comment. Probably just a coincidence, you naively thought.

“Well, thanks for saving my life twice, Mr. Deku” you whispered his hero name with a coy smile playing on your glossy lips. It sounded so sweet.  “It was my pleasure, (y/n)” he whispered your name in a similar fashion while taking your hand in his larger one and running his thumb over your wrist, and you visibly shivered at the contact.

“s-so” you stammered, pulling your hand to wipe against your apron, “what would you like?” 

You he wanted to say but you were already flustered. He hummed and tapped his cheek, “I have a taste for something sweet.” His eyes dipped back to your cleavage, and he licked his lips. “Any suggestions?”

Now you definitely weren’t imagining that. 

“U-um well, w-we have lots of desserts, l bake some of them”.

 That piqued his interest. 

“Oh?” he asked, and you nodded. “Mmhmm, it’s a hobby of mines and my boss lets me try out different recipes. Today’s special is Strawberry Rhubarb pie but with a twist!” you declared proudly. “A twist you say?” he mused, leaning over the counter and reveling in your giddiness. You leaned forward and put your lips close to his ear, covering your mouth with your hand. “I add a sprig of mint for freshness” you whisper, tickling the shell of his ear. “It’s my secret ingredient”.

Fuck you were adorable. All excited like a child presenting a new skill to their parent. It took a lot of willpower to stop his cock from straining against his jeans, but he managed. 

Deku leaned back with a smirk, “Well then, it’s settled. I’m gonna have a taste of your little pie”.

Three slices of pie and a pitcher of coffee later Deku had learned that you were an international student at the university’s business school and had dreams of owning a restaurant one day. You’d also disclosed that you didn’t really enjoy your job, but you didn’t have any financial support. Pretty much helpless and alone, forced to work a crappy job so you wouldn’t get kicked out of your even crappier apartment. On a lighter note, you told him some of the things that you were into, and he found that you two had a lot of common interests. It was a pleasant surprise that you were a bit of a “fan girl” and he happened to be your favorite. 

“Like it’s just my luck that I meet my all-time favorite person while I’m moments away from death”.

Midoriya frowned when you told him of all the different mishaps you’d gotten into the past few weeks. He counted 23 times that could’ve resulted in serious bodily injury or worse. The alpha wanted to just put you in a little bubble and keep you safe from yourself. 

“Have you ever thought about— oh shit”! 

Somehow, you’d managed to trip over air and spilled the pitcher of coffee on his hand as you were going for a refill. 

“Oh! Ohmygodimsosorry!” You scrambled to wipe his hands clean but ended up spilling more on his pants. The situation was quickly becoming a spectacle, customers snickering, and passersby pointed through the windows. You were so embarrassed and could feel yourself unraveling. 

The kitchen door slammed open and out walked your supervisor. He was fuming. Throwing out a string of curses before his eyes even landed on you. Tears welled in your eyes as you braced yourself for the routine berating that you’d get every time you messed up during your shift.

“You useless fucking omega!” He seethed, “Can’t do anything right. What are you good for besides laying on your back?”

Midoriya was furious and was itching to use black whip and yank out his weak beta fangs one by one, but he noticed the change in your scent and saw the way your body shook in fear and shame. He was on you in an instant. Pulling you against his chest and releasing calming pheromones. His hood came off in the process making the crowd gasp when they saw his green curls.

Long story short— he broke your ex-supervisor’s hand, told him you quit, and carried you bridal style all the way to his home. He explained that you would never be setting foot in that place again and that he’d be taking care of you from now own. When you tried to protest between sniffles, he just shushed you and pressed your face closer to his chest. 

You were now sitting in the bathtub while Deku rinsed conditioner from your freshly detangled hair. Izuku kneeled behind the tub with his chin resting on your shoulder. He was content. Humming softly as the pads of his fingers traced your skin. Neither of you spoke. His hands felt so good on your skin—it was easy to just “let go” like he suggested when he first undressed you. Your heavy eyes had shut at some point but fluttered open when his hand ventured down to part your thighs.

Izuku nuzzled against your neck just as his fingers slipped through your sticky folds to circle your clit. Soft kisses pressed against your skin left a burning trail down to your scent glands. His tongue rolled against the flesh eliciting needy whimpers and whines. You bared your neck—encouraging his musings, gasping when sharp fangs began to prick your skin. The hero chuckled darkly loving the way you melted for him. So pliant. So perfect. 

“Being so good for me right. So good. Spread those legs a little more, that’s right. So pretty” He cooed sweetly, “Love takin’ care of you like this. You like it too, don’t you baby?” A particularly lewd moan was the only response you could muster given the fact that he’d just slipped a thick digit in your needy hole. “ ‘course y’do, bunny. ooo—you got so t-tight just then. Wanna be my little bunny?” Izuku suckled at your glands sending your omega into a frenzy. She was screaming, crying, desperate for him. You wanted him so bad that you could taste it. “Please ‘zuku. Wan’ it back. Need it, Alpha” you hiccuped, grinding your cunt against the heel of his hand. “Want it all. Wanna cum. Wan’ your cock. Wanna be yours, mark me please al-ahhh~~

Sharp fangs pierced your skin immediately sending you over the edge. Izuku suckled at the mark, prolonging your climax. Your body eventually settled in the pink tinged water, exhausted. Your eyes fluttered shut but you felt something hard prodding at your lips.

“Say ahh, bunny”.

Taglist| @xogabbiexo , @yo-nn , @plussizeficchick , @m00nchildthings , @mhathotfic , @7inaa , @namjoonswifeyy , @tenyaiidasslut , @urfavsinna , @megumischubbycheeks , @unsatisfiedanddisappointed , @erenyeagerswhore , @tsukihime25 , @endeavours-jockstrap

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Fix You

Epilogue for Sweet Treats AU: by character | chronological | epilogues

Warnings: these drabbles will include dark elements such as noncon, control, intimidation, alcohol abuse and addiction, and other stuff that may not be specified. Take this as you chance to scroll by.

Please let me know what you think &lt;3

🍹🍹🍹

You languish in the room as the white curtains shine with daylight. Your eyes are raw and swollen from you pathetic attempt at self-defense and your elbow is sore from how Steve twisted it back. Your head throbs, your stomach is sour, squeezing now and again as it threatens to erupt.

You bury your head under the pillow. You can’t stop shaking. You’re not stupid. You know what’s happening. It’s been at least six hours since you drank anything. You’re withdrawing. You fucking hate this.

The best course of action would be to sleep it off but you can’t even do that. You’re kept awake by the sweating, stolid desperation of your biology.

You roll over with a grown, the effort making your head swell. You can hear that asshole! He’s been talking loudly on the phone and stomping around. He also ordered food, you smell it. It makes you sick.

You manage to drag yourself out of bed. You can barely stand as your head staggers your step. You get to the door and push down on the handle. There is no lock and you open it without obstacle. You don’t get far as your stomach clutches suddenly and you hack your insides onto the floor.

“Well, well, well,” Steve snickers as he approaches you, “you’re having fun, aren’t you?”

“Get out of my way, you fucking twat,” you snarl at him as you struggle to stand up straight, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as your other rests on your stomach, “I need a goddamn drink, then I’m getting the fuck out–”

“You aren’t going anywhere,” he jabs your shoulder so hard you stumble back. “You’re going to clean up your fucking mess.”

He goes to the table and snatches a cloth napkin from atop the cleared plate. He tosses it at you and you catch it as it hits your chest. You dry heave, fighting not to let it wrack your entire body.

“I’m doing you a favour, sweetheart. You need to dry out.”

“That’s not your call, cap,” you bark and quickly snap your mouth shut against another wave of nausea.

“Look at you. You’re pathetic. You should be on your knees, thanking me. Praising me because I chose you, honey.”

“Chose me? You picked up the easiest girl in that goddamn bar,” you hiccup through your words.

“So you should be fucking flattered,” he sneers and lunges towards you, “I’m gonna fix you up.”

“I don’t need–”

You cry out as he pinches the back of your neck and forces you to your knees, “clean it up.”

“Get off–”

“Clean it up or I’ll make you eat it,” he growls, “I’m sure you’ve had a lot worse in your mouth.”

You gulp and grasp the cloth, covering the puddle of bile with it. You do your best to mop it up and he lets you go harshly, jolting you as he marches around you in a circle. You touch your temple as it hammers violently.

“You don’t get it, alright? I’m giving you a gift. I’m giving you a life.”

“I don’t fucking want it,” you ball up the cloth.

“You don’t know what you want, do you? You’re drinking away your thoughts, your needs, your desires. Why? Because you fucking hate yourself. Because someone fucked you up,” he spits as he stands over you, “I’m gonna fix you. I’m gonna save you from yourself and give you a reason not to drink.”

“I would rather bash my own skull in–”

“Hey,” he grabs your jaw as he bends over you, “don’t give me any ideas.”

“Big fucking talk for a small man,” you take the napkin and smash it in his face, “fuck you!”

His hand slips down to your throat and he throttles you as he forces you to your feet. He swipes away the napkin and snarls as he wipes his face with his sleeve and spits onto the floor. He slams you against the wall and you squeak from the sheer impact.

“We’re done talking,” he snarls as he presses his forehead against yours, eyes boring into you.

[x0x0josephinex0x0]

more seokmin comfort fics.. i read ‘sleepless’ and its so perfect i swear 😭

YOU MADE MY WHOLE DAYYYYYYY omg. Ran to write this for you, its a bit comfort, a tiiiiiny bit spicy, hope u like it!! please ask for more if you want!

Pillow Talk

genre: fluff with an implied spicy ending?? is there a word for that?? i'm new here lmao, comfort, established relationship

warning: implied mature behavior near the end, brief mention of a phobia of doctors and surgery, brief mention of blood, spooky beginning

words: 1.2k

The scrape of claws dragging slowly against tile floors is the only sound. You are trapped on an operating table, your arms and legs strapped down to prevent any protection from whoever — or whatever — was making its deliberate, terrifying way across the blood-spattered floor toward you. Steely-cold fingers slide up the back of your skull, and you scream yourself awake.

You’re shaking, safe in your bed, Seokmin beside you as he always is. But his hand is on your arm now, and he’s blinking at you sleepily. “What’s wrong, baby?” he asks, propping himself up on one arm and using his other hand to brush your hair softly from your face.

You lean into his touch, the warmth of his fingertips dispelling some of the chill in your soul from the dream. “Bad dream,” you say, trying to take a deep breath, still trembling. “Really bad dream.”

You know where this dream came from, too. In just a few days, you’ll have a surgery to correct a ten-year-old gymnastics injury. It’s a procedure that will vastly improve your quality of life, has very few risks, and has one of the easiest recovery processes in modern surgery, but you are petrified of doctor’s offices -- the sterile chemical scent, the people with faces mostly covered by masks peering at you from strange mechanical glasses, the powdery feel of latex gloves against your skin. And if doctor’s offices were frightening, it was nothing to the fear you had of surgery, which was just all of those things combined with a drug that made it impossible for you to fight back and the menacing glint of metal in a dim overhead light.

His brow furrows as he looks down at you. “Really? Do you want to talk about it?”

You give him a slow smile. “Why? So you can scare yourself into not sleeping for the rest of the night?”

He smiles at your teasing. “Fair enough,” he says, knowing he is a bit of a scaredy-cat. “Why did you have a nightmare, though? What were you thinking about when you went to bed?”

You sigh. “The surgery, I think.”

He nods in understanding. “I guessed it might be that. Do you want to tell me what you’re worried about?”

You give a humorless laugh. “Oh, just getting kidnapped, dissected, and sold on the black market. Or waking up with my brain in a different body. Or them accidentally operating on the wrong leg.”

Seokmin chuckles, but not in a dismissive way, and the mood immediately lightens. To say these things out loud is so ridiculous that it almost erases your fear, and you find yourself finally able to take that deep breath.

This isn’t lost on Seokmin, who is still watching you carefully. “Do you feel better after talking about it?” he asks.

You assess. Still a little shaky, still a bit panicky, but he’s looking at you with those adorably worried eyes ... it all kind of balances out. Plus, the way he’s leaning over you right now, and the way his biceps are handling his weight, and the tightness of his white t-shirt against his muscular chest...

You find yourself blushing instead of replying as you take in the sight of him, and Seokmin smiles at your expression. “You just thought of something that’s making you bashful,” he realizes, his eyes suddenly mischievous. “Tell me what’s going on in your brain.”

You avoid his gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you claim, deciding to tease rather than be forthright -- you’re in the mood for a bit of a game. 

His expression turns dubious. “Really? No thoughts, head empty?” he asks, clearly in disbelief.

You nod solemnly. “Nothing but the wind whistling through my skull cavity,” you say in a spooky voice.

He chuckles. “You’re cute when you’re trying to be all weird and creepy.”

“And you’re cute all the time,” you admit, knowing Seokmin eats that kind of thing up.

True to form, his eyes light up at your words. “Go on,” he says, laying back down beside you and pulling you into his chest. “Was that what you were actually thinking about while you were lying through your teeth about not thinking about anything?”

“It was...a little different,” you admit, grateful he’s hiding your face so he isn’t able to see you blush even deeper.

He doesn’t catch the hesitation in your voice, but he does start rubbing a soothing hand up and down your back, brushing away any tension there. You melt into his chest, and his arms tighten around you. “Well, if you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine,” he says quietly, his voice gentle and sweet in the darkness. “But what a gift this is for me, to get to be here to hold you through the nightmares.”

You pull back to look at him. “Really?” you ask.

“Of course!” he exclaims. “I love that I can ease your mind in this way.” He pulls you back in and kisses your forehead several times in rhythm. 

You are extremely aware of another notable way that Seokmin eases your mind, especially when he’s holding you like this. Seemingly subconsciously, Seokmin’s hand slips under the back of your shirt, and your body erupts into chills as his warm fingers begin to trace soft patterns on your skin. You try to resist the urge to sit up and rip the clothes off both of you, reminding yourself to be patient -- you knew he’d never say no to you if you asked, but the longer he made you wait, the more delicious it was afterward. So you settle for a soft sigh against his chest. “Still, I’m sorry for waking you.”

He kisses your cheek this time, and you try not to tense up, knowing that will give away what you want, and then it’ll all be over. But it’s hard not to notice how Seokmin is inching his way down your body, seemingly innocently enough, but in a way that makes you wonder if you’re not the only one playing a game. Perhaps what this is is a game of chicken. Whoever gives in first loses. You decided to make your own subtle move, sliding your fingernails over the backside of his arm. “Nonsense,” he says, looking at you with a smile. “I wasn’t that tired.”

“How tired are you now?” you ask him, keeping a neutral tone, although you know your eyes are burning into his.

He adjusts his position so that he’s leaning over you again. This could just be so he can look at you -- but then again, as his hands glide down your side and over your hips, it could also be not that. “I’m wide awake, baby,” he says, and there it is -- an invitation.

“Hmm...in that case...would you like to know what I was thinking about when I was lying through my teeth?”

“Do go on,” he encourages, his eyes bright as he slowly slides in between your legs, burying his face in your neck and leaving a trail of kisses from your ear to your collarbone. “You might need to be quick about it, though. I don't know how much longer I can wait.”

You laugh. “Oh, it seems like you’ve already got the gist of it,” you tell him. “It’s almost like you read my mind.”

He brings his lips down on yours -- gently, but deeply and slowly and in a way that makes your heart pick up its pace, beating frantically against your sweatshirt. Then he pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes and whisper, “it’s your turn, honey. Read my mind.”

You have to laugh -- because when he gets like this, his mind is an open book, the easiest book in the world to read. In response, you just grab the collar of that absolutely sinful white t-shirt, pulling him into another kiss, and let Seokmin sweep you away into his fantasy.

[giasfolklore]

Putting you in your place

ft. Gojo

˚｡⋆ pairings : Gojo x fem! reader

˚｡⋆ warnings : mean gojo! , brat taming, hair pulling, skull fucking, gagging, heavy degradation, use of slut, bitch and whore and last but not the least NO PROTECTION‼️, confession of love at the end.

˚｡⋆ no use of y/n

Being Gojo’s junior as a freshman you always teased him for not talking to women as an introvert, just because others made fun of him too but one day you did over the top and to top up the fabulous fiasco you underestimated Gojo about him being impotent.

You became just as annoying as everyone else but today you took it to that point where Gojo can only tolerate this much.

Rude and always wanting to scream out and make demands when things didn’t go your way.

Gojo pulled you to side of an empty storeroom taking off his belt and then unzipping his pants he had you on your knees getting your cute little mouth fucked by him and his hand holding onto your hair roughly skullfucking his thick length in your mouth. “You little bitch is this what you needed to shut the fuck up?”

“You needed to be treated like a brainless slut that you fucking are. Fucking annoying piece of shit.” His beautiful blue eyes shining with rage as he made you take his cock deeper and deeper in your mouth. Loud gags filling the empty storeroom as Gojo fucked your beautiful face.

You watched your mascara getting washed up by your tears as you struggled to breathe. Your nails digging into his lean body as you felt the tip of his dick bashing into the back of your throat with each movement his hips made. He was breathing really fast and hard, heavy balls slapping your chin constantly.

Gojo’s head fell back while pulling his dick out of your mouth as the cum was all over your face without warning he bended you over a table and started thrusting into your wet little pussy.

You let out soft cute moans and mewled at every time he bullied your cute little cunt open, stretching you out very painfully. Gojo groaned when you clenched down on him. His long fingers rubbing your clit on the top of thrusting his dick inside you so deep he slaps your cheek with a hand “SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU LITTLE WHORE” he grunted. Picking up your panties and stuffing it into your babbling mouth.

“Just shut up and take it I had enough of your attitude and enough of your demands.”

Gojo’s hips snapped into yours inhumanly, your soft boobs rubbing against the hard wooden table as your body jerked with every thrust. It made gojo feel so good to finally put you back in your fucking place. He was tired of your demanding voice

Gojo this. Gojo that. I want this. I want that. “If you don’t get it i’ll make college life a living hell for you blah blah” always getting on him and coming at him like a fucking baby when things didn’t go your way he was sick of you and your little tantrums

Gojo grabbed onto your two wrists so hard, hard enough to leave a fucking bruise on your hands and on your waist he pulled your head up by your hair again fucking you deeper in your tiny hole.

You were tiny, and you felt very tiny against him your head resting on his broad chest as your sobs were muffled. Forcing your teary eyes open you could see the pure rage on his face. It gave him a lot of satisfaction to see you so stupid on his dick. “You know what maybe this was your fucking plan all along maybe you wanted to get fucked by me like a whore” he grunted.

“Fuck. You little annoying slut where is your fucking attitude now huh?” he laughed. A smirk came on his face “I should stop right now and teach you a fucking lesson” you whined in protest your tears doubling in amount. Gojo smirked wider, “I will teach you a real lesson”.

Your body trembled uncontrollably your moans and cries and screams were all unheard as you squirted “Fuck. you’re such a dirty slut.” He spat on your body teeth clenched as he was about to pull out. “I am going to fill you up with my cum. Someone as shitty as you is bound to be on a pill anyway.”

Gojo was still deep inside you and he slowly pulled out as you felt hot cum spilling all over your walls. “There we fucking go you little shit.” He sighed.

And then when he payed attention to your mascara tear stained face and bruised body Gojo’s eyes widened. Shit did he go too far? he took the panties out of your mouth and asked you if you were okay you started crying and hugged him tight saying “I’ve always wanted to do that with you Gojo, I wouldn’t do it with anyone else. I love you.” He cupped your face with his big hands and made you look up and said “You’re so beautiful” he smiled. You smiled too and then he picked you up and took you home and then you and him started a new journey of your relationship and soon Gojo fell for you too and you were happily together.

[another-whump-sideblog]

Fixing Tracy -- The Tour

TWs in the tags

Masterlist

"Are you hungry?" Molly asks. As if she didn't just tell Tracy she's broken and Molly intends to fix her.

"How do you plan on fixing me?"

"For right now, all I want is for you to feel safe. I know that will probably take a long time, after everything you've been through, so it's mostly about building up trust, day after day, that you will always have access to food and no one is going to hurt you. Stuff like that."

After everything you've been through. How long has Molly been stalking her? How much does she know? "And… after that?"

"Trauma processing stuff! All at your own pace, of course. I don't plan on forcing you to do anything, I'm just here to help you with what you want to do."

"And keep me locked up."

"And keep you safe. After all, you can't feel safe unless you are safe, and processing trauma while it's still happening is near impossible."

Okay, Tracy's starting to understand Molly's motives now. That doesn't mean they make sense to her, but it does make her feel more secure that Molly won't actively hurt her. "Do you think being held captive against my will isn't traumatic?"

"Change, even good change, can be traumatic sometimes. I'll help you process that too, once you're ready."

"I thought you said processing ongoing trauma is near impossible."

"It's not going to be ongoing, dear. I know that you're shaken up, and it feels like you're going to feel this way forever, but you're not."

Tracy grits her teeth. "You kidnapped me. Do you understand how violating that is? Do you understand that every day I wake up here without ever choosing to be here is going to be violating all over again? Do you see how that's… breaking my boundaries?" She feels a little silly phrasing it like that, but she thinks platitudes are more likely to get through to Molly than just saying she wants to go home.

"You're not going to feel violated every time you wake up here. Once you settle in, knowing that this was against your will is going to be freeing. You're going to be so glad that you can rest without guilt because you never chose to abandon your responsibilities. And don't be silly, dear, just not wanting someone to do something isn't a boundary."

Tracy needs to be on Molly's good side. She needs to gather information and gain trust. Screaming at Molly isn't going to help anything, so she needs to calm down. She forces herself to breathe evenly. "Okay. Okay, how about a tour?" Anything but listening to Molly say that kidnapping someone isn't a violation of their boundaries, fucking hell.

Molly grins. "Oh, I've been so rude! Yes, I'll show you around." 

She gets up and offers Tracy a hand, which Tracy doesn't take as she gets up.

"This is the main area, as you can probably tell. I have lots of DVDs and stuff for the TV on that bookshelf. It's also got a bunch of video games! None of it is connected to the internet, for obvious reasons, but if there's anything that you want that I don't have, you should let me know!"

Molly walks over to a small table with two chairs and Tracy follows. "This is the dining area, but you can eat on the couches if you want. I don't mind. You already saw the bathroom, feel free to let me know if any of the products aren't to your liking." 

Molly opens a door next to the bathroom. "This is the kitchen! I stocked it up with your favorite foods, but again, let me know if there's anything else you want. You've already seen your bedroom, of course. I'm always willing to get you new clothes or new bedding if you'd like. And finally…"

Tracy couldn’t see any knives in the kitchen. Molly guides Tracy to another door and opens it. "This is, like, an indoor gym kind of thing. I know a lot of the activities I prepared for you are pretty sedentary, so I figured I should give you a few options to get moving if you want."

There aren't any weights. If only there were, Tracy could bash Molly's skull in.

"And that's it! Oh, I forgot, that bookshelf has a bunch of card games and board games if you ever want one of those. Besides that and the TV bookshelf, the other bookshelves just have books. I know how much you like to read, so I wanted to make sure you have lots of options."

There's one door that Molly didn't open. That must be the way out. 

"Shoot, I keep forgetting things!" Molly rushes over to a strange device on the wall. "This will allow you to contact me while I'm upstairs. Just press this button and talk into it, and I'll hear whatever you're saying! Well, I will if I'm home. I'll let you know before I leave, though."

Upstairs. That door leads upstairs. Tracy feels a rush of pride. She held back her anger and got some information, just like she planned. She'll be out of here in no time.

"Thank you for the tour."

"You're welcome! What would you like to do now? Besides leaving, I mean. Are you hungry?”

“…yeah. I’ll make myself something.”

“I labeled the drawers and cupboards, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find whatever you need if you want to cook.”

“…thank you.” Tracy heads to the kitchen.

“Do you want help?”

She wants to search the kitchen for potential weapons. “No, I want to be alone.”

“Of course. I’ll be out here reading if you need me.”

Molly’s nonchalance worries Tracy. Is she really not worried about what Tracy might find in the kitchen at all? How can she be so sure that Tracy will stay cooperative?

The kitchen door also locks from the inside, so Tracy makes sure to lock herself in before setting down her lightbulb. Sure enough, the cupboards and drawers are labeled, and looking through them all reveals them to be labeled correctly. There's one filled with her favorite snacks, so she stuffs a bunch of them in her pockets. Just in case. 

There are no knives. Maybe she could ask for one? Molly has kept insisting she can ask for anything.

A quick look in the fridge reveals that probably wouldn't do anything. Everything that she might want to chop or cut is pre-prepared. If she asked Molly for a knife, she'd probably say something like 'What would you possibly need that for, dear?' Ugh.

There are pots and pans that Tracy thinks could make for good weapons. She doesn't plan to use them now, she needs to keep gathering information, but it's useful to know. 

Now she needs to make herself something to eat. There are an overwhelming amount of options, and she struggles to narrow it down. She should start with the most perishable stuff first, right? Just in case.

She settles on making an egg salad sandwich. Two, actually, one for her and one for Molly, as a show of cooperation to hopefully get Molly to let her guard down.

The simple process of cooking helps her to relax a bit and think through her situation.

Most likely, the only way out of here is through the door. There are windows in the main area, but they're high up and frosted like the one in the bedroom. Since she wasn't strong enough to break that one, she probably wouldn't be able to break any of the others either. It didn't look like the chairs in the 'dining area' were nailed down, though, so maybe she'll be able to use one to stand on and get a better angle to attack the windows.

The door has a better chance, though. She's very familiar with how to break down doors. As long as things stay like this and Tracy isn't in any active danger, the plan is to wait until Molly leaves for the night and then break down the door and get out of here.

Molly will leave, right? There's only one bedroom down here…

If Molly plans on sharing a bed with Tracy… well, that's even better. Tracy can suffocate her with a pillow once she falls asleep.

She wonders if she'd get arrested for that. Really, there's no way to prove she's been kidnapped and didn't just decide to move in with Molly voluntarily. There's nothing incriminating about anything down here. So… once she escapes, she won't go to the police. Too much of a hassle. Hopefully she won't have to murder Molly. Maybe she should start breaking things, to show signs that she was being held against her will if a police investigation does happen.

Wait. Tracy nearly smacks herself in annoyance. If Molly decides to sleep down here, murder won't be necessary, because she's definitely got the key to that door on her somewhere. So long as Tracy can get it quietly, she'll be able to slip out and be long gone by the time Molly wakes up.

What does it say about her, that she thought of murder before thinking of that?

Who cares?

She actually doesn't even know if that door is locked. It almost definitely is, but she'll probably want to try it before any attempts at breaking down the door or stealing any keys.

She finishes up her egg salad sandwiches, unlocks the kitchen door, sets the plates and utensils on the table, goes back into the kitchen to get her lightbulb, and then finally sits down.

"I made some for you. I don't know if you like egg salad sandwiches, or if you've already eaten recently, so if you don't want it I can just have yours as leftovers later."

Molly gasps. "That's so nice!" She sets down her book and comes to get seated at the table instead. "Let me know if you run out of anything in the kitchen, by the way, so that I can get you more."

Tracy nods and eats her sandwich. Molly follows suit, taking incredibly tiny bites at first and then switching to eating the sandwich normally.

She didn't look apprehensive at all, but it seems like she was testing to make sure Tracy didn't do anything to the food. She knows Tracy doesn't have access to anything that could kill her, but Tracy could have poured a bunch of some spice on it or made it gross some other way, or even put soap in it.

Molly expects Tracy to try to hurt her. That's very interesting. She doesn't act like it, she's even let Tracy carry around an improvised weapon with no complaints, but she isn't stupid.

It's good to have this as a benchmark. Molly hasn't let down her guard, even if she acts unguarded. The way she's behaved so far is how she behaves while she fully expects someone to hurt her.

Tracy doesn't share any of those thoughts. Instead, she takes the dishes back to the kitchen and sets them in the sink. If she ends up staying here long enough that she has to wash dishes… that would suck.

There are clocks on the stove and microwave in the kitchen, and they seem to be the only ones in her 'new home,' so she checks the time before heading back into the main area. It's 11 AM.

For now, she just needs to kill time until she's either alone or can get the key from Molly. She takes a deep breath and leaves the kitchen, still clutching her lightbulb.

"You should show me how to work the TV. I've never used a DVD player before."

Tracy spends the rest of the day trying to be friendly to Molly and seem like she's totally fine with being 'fixed.' It's… not that hard at all, especially once she gets into one of the video games Molly shows her. She can't remember the last time that time flew like that for her.

When sunlight stops coming through the windows, Molly yawns. "I'm going to go upstairs and go to bed. Unless you want me to stay with you?"

Tracy shakes her head immediately and Molly chuckles.

"I figured. Try not to spend all night gaming, it's not good for you." Molly tries to pat the top of Tracy's head (which she skillfully dodges), and then she leaves.

Molly watches this part very carefully. She takes a single key out of her pocket (so the door was locked) and unlocks the door. After she steps through it and closes the door behind her, there's a small click to indicate it's been locked again.

Tracy'll have to break it down. She'll wait a couple of hours to be sure Molly's asleep, and then she'll break down the door and get out of here. Just a few more hours.

[cornerstoreclown]

Devoted

Summary: This is a short one-shot (2032 words approx.) where the reader (Gender Neutral) is giving Art a blowjob. Yes, the reader is wholly gender neutral, we don’t know what setup they got, nor do we need to know, because they’re only sucking his dick. Men, women, my fellow nonbinary folks like myself and anyone else who in my empty-headedness neglected to mention, this is an ode to you. If this is something that captivates your interest, then I hope you like it. 

Warnings/Contents: Clothed sex, consensual choking, breathplay, blowjobs, face-fucking. The reader is a little twisted like Art. 

Author’s notes: More clothed sex because I want Art in his clothes. This time, there’s a hidden zipper in the front that goes all the way down. I’m playing with his outfit. I love/hate that single clown suit. I love it because it’s nice, I hate it because I want him out of the clothes yet in it.   Up next in the NSFW corner is a male AND female version fic with Art. I’m making a buffet here, and I hope you all will attend if it catches your fancy. Thank you for your continued support! 

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If your friends found out what you were up to, they’d probably never think of you the same way again. Or maybe they’d expect it from you. Your parents? Whether you talked to them or not, didn’t matter. They also didn’t need to know about this, whether you kept them in your life or not. You know for certain that strangers would find you fucked up in the head, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care about anyone’s judgment, and the only reason why you kept it quiet that you were frequently intimate with the Miles County Clown from those you did know and trust, is because it would simply be less messy if they didn’t know. 

 You’re sitting on the floor on your knees with his cock in your mouth right now, and by god, it’s the best damn cock you’ve ever had in your life. Art’s a big fellow, he’s surprisingly well endowed, and you’ve been made aware of it from the time you first saw him get hard when he was bashing someone’s brains in and you were there to watch it. You couldn’t stop staring, not at the gore, but at his dick. There was a distinct outline against the black and white of his outfit, and when he was finally done with his victim, you vividly recall offering to tend to him. 

And he let you, all the while covered in bits and smears of formerly living people. You didn’t give a shit–You sucked him off right then and there, zipping down that hidden zipper on the front of his costume and got right to work.

Just like you’re doing now, like your own life depended on it. And maybe in a way, it did. Maybe if you didn’t do a satisfactory job, you’d just be another addition to his kill count. The thought of that creates a sick and twisted churn of excitement in your gut as you’re on your knees before him, the front of his clown suit zipped all the way down so you have access to what’s important. He’s leaning against his workbench, one hand on the table to keep himself grounded. The other hand is on you. On the back of your head. 

You feel the way that his fingers, caked with dried blood, massages at the back of your skull. You find it soothing as you tend to him, wrapping your lips around the length of his shaft and bobbing your head up and down expertly. You pull your head back and give a kiss to the head of his cock, pushing your tongue in around the edges of his foreskin before hungrily lapping the tip of any precome. You glance up at him through your lashes, and you feel the way that his gaze focuses on you. You’re beneath him right now, servicing him, tending to him, like the good self proclaimed lover that you are. 

Judging by how he’s clenching his hand into a fist on top of the table, you’d like to think that you’re doing a mighty fine job. 

Art always knew how to make your toes curl, he knew how to get your eyes to roll to the back of your skull as pleasure would consume you. He knew what made you tick and he often took advantage of that very fact. As cruel as he was, he was caring in his own way, remembering everything about you and what you liked, what you didn’t. Each and every time the both of you went at it, he was always able to deliver you to completion. 

In French, there’s an expression for orgasm. La petite mort–The brief loss or weakening of consciousness. It was a likening post orgasm to the sensation of death. Literally, it translates to ‘the little death’. 

Art’s killed you many times in that regard, then. 

It’s only fair you returned the favor every so often. 

You didn’t use weapons or knives to unwind the threads of him piece by piece. You used yourself. Your body. And he would always look as if he were being tortured all the same, as if you had beaten him and hurt him. 

He’s making the ugliest expression right now–brows furrowed, wrinkles on his face as he holds a snarl with his exposed teeth as you’ve since moved from his cock to his balls, shamelessly dragging your tongue up and down before sucking on the skin of one, all the while using your hand to deftly stroke his length with a pace fast enough to keep him stimulated without pushing him over the edge too soon–which has happened before. He’s gotten a little too excited too quickly in the past. 

You hum to yourself in amusement. 

He’s so pretty like this, at your mercy, weak to his desires, just like every mortal being was. He wasn’t mortal nor from this plane, but to know that he could be humbled in such a rather ordinary way was a relief. It was in these moments that you both could be on a little more of an equal playing ground, despite how you both know that he was so much stronger than you, and you’ve been reminded of it plenty of times in the past during the times he’s choked you, specifically because you asked him to. 

You loved it when he was rough with you, you loved to see just how restrained he could be, and how those hands of his that snuffed out so many lives continue to hold yours so mindfully. It felt like this odd kind of praise without the usage of any words, knowing that you were different. 

Who else could say that they’ve gotten to suck a killer clown’s dick? No one else. Only you. You’re moving from his balls back up to the shaft, leaving lewd little kisses and sucking the tip again, mindful to continue to give him gentle strokes. 

You can’t see his expressions right now–his head is tilted back, he’s clearly in bliss. You’re diligent at your job nevertheless. This is what you loved to do. In another vein, you’ve had some unprompted thoughts manifest in your mind telling you that it’s what you were meant to do. You knew the moment that you laid your eyes on him a few Halloweens ago that you had to have him, and you would, one way or another. You made sure to seek him out each Halloween, expressing your interest to him. It was a long courtship that spanned over years, and you’ve since changed as a person quite a bit with every year, but this part of you–this part has stayed the same. 

He’s hard in your hand, and you can feel the pulse and warmth radiate from him in such a way that you know that you can’t tease him for much longer. When you pull away slightly to get one more look up at him from a better angle, you find yourself stopped as the hand that’s still resting at the back of your skull keeps you from getting too far. 

When you glance up, you see that the clown’s gaze is fixed on you. There’s a recognizable gleam in them that makes your heart skip a bit. 

Maybe the time for teasing was already over, and you just didn't realize it. 

You’re not given any warning as he seizes your head with both hands on each side. No longer was he holding the back of your head, or relying on the table behind him for support. He now has to support himself for what he is intending on doing and you can only go along with it. 

And you’re delighted by that. 

You’re in tune with him to know that when he’s bringing you back to his cock, that you’re supposed to open your mouth, which you obediently do. You open wide enough for him so that when he brings your face back to his groin, you feel him slide all the way back in, only he continues to push his full length in until he touches the back of your throat and you’re holding back a gag. You feel the way that he takes a second to pat the side of your face a couple times. A praise. 

Art looks down upon you, and while you can’t see it as your nose is pressed right to his groin, you can somehow feel it. You can feel how attentive he is at watching you beneath him. You try to move your head back a bit, but he stops you, keeping your face right where it is as you steady yourself. You hold on for as long as you can, your breathing obstructed until you give him a gentle hit to his thigh indicating for him to let you pull back, and he makes you wait another second before relenting. When he slides out of your mouth, you’re gasping for air, desperate to fill your lungs. Art’s only wickedly smiling, teeth bared, delighted in seeing you struggle.

You only get a few breaths before he’s bringing you back in, and you take in the full length of his shaft again. He repeats this a few times until you’re dizzy, but you love it. You love being used, you love being his fucktoy, his mortal plaything, set to his whims and desires, whatever they might be, and even if one day he wanted to rip you apart and tear you into pieces, it would be an honor.

The next time that he allows you to pull away and get oxygen back into your lungs, you’re deepthroating him again, but it’s short lived. Still holding onto your head with his hands, he pushes your head back, then pulls you in, then back. Repeatedly. Until it’s a rhythm. 

You feel the head of his dick hit the back of your throat when during one of those times he meets you with a thrust, and you nearly gag again, tears welling in the corner of your eyes as they’re shut tight. You simply press your hands into both of his thighs and dig your fingers in to keep yourself steady as you let him fuck your face. 

He’s got a steady pace going, and he stops a few times to let you breathe, but it’s becoming increasingly apparent that he’s getting close as he speeds up. You feel the way that drool has been slipping past your lips and dripping down your chin and to the floor beneath you. 

Suddenly, you feel him pull you in one last time, and you brace yourself as he gives one final thrust, and once again you take all of him. A few seconds pass as you’re held there, and you feel the warmth of his release at the back of your throat. You have no choice but to swallow as you feel the seconds ticking by and your breath slowly slipping away. You remain there for as long as you can, even after he’s finished, before you pull yourself back in a coughing and hacking mess. You couldn’t even taste it when it went down. Art allows you to break away, merely watching as you’re recovering, wiping away the tears that were in your eyes, then the drool. 

“Ahh… fuck.” You sigh, giving a single sniffle. You feel the gentle pat of Art’s hand on the top of your head. A job well done. 

You give a weary laugh, glancing upwards at him. 

“Glad you approve.” 

As you feel your body start to settle and wind down, you notice the look in Art’s eyes as he’s making eye contact, then at the rest of your body, then at your eyes again. 

“Art–” 

He leans down, and pushes you in the chest with just enough force that you fall right on your back. It doesn’t hurt, you were already on the ground anyway to begin with. It happens in such a fashion you’re able to not hit your head on the way down.

“Hey!”

As you try and prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him, you see that he’s descending over you. 

It’s your turn now, apparently. 

And you feel a flush across your face. 

[whumpshaped]

two whumpees have their bodies stitched together

tw body horror, noncon amputation, restraints, hospital/lab setting

Whumpee couldn't stop crying. This couldn't be happening. Not to them.

They couldn't bear looking to their right. They hadn't looked that way since they woke up from the anaesthesia. They could feel their flesh pressed against that fucking bastard's arm, and they felt the stitches pull on their skin whenever the dumbass moved.

"Can you stop squirming?" they snapped after a while.

"No! Fuck that! I need to get the fuck out of here!"

"And how do you plan on doing that when our arms are attached to each other?" Whumpee finally mustered up the courage to turn their way, but they immediately gagged.

Both their arms were cut off from above their elbow, sewn together with thread that seemed too thick and sturdy to be used in any medical procedure. That was not coming apart, unless they were prepared to tear off even more of their limbs.

Their other, intact arms were secured to the metal table with leather straps that didn't budge. Their ankles as well. Basically, Whumpee could tell that this was a futile emdeavour, and they wished their authority-assigned forever partner would get that through their thick fucking skull.

"I don't know and I don't care, but I need to get out, and I need to get the fuck away from you! I'm not spending my life with you!"

"It's not exactly an ideal situation for anyone," they grumbled, trying to keep the tears at bay at least. "But as of right now-"

"Shut the fuck up! I'm getting out of here, and you do whatever you want!"

Whumpee wanted to bash their head against the wall. "You can't fucking get out! Especially not without me! We're attached by the fucking arm! Are you completely stupid?"

Whumper watched the argument through the screen, pleased with themself. Sure, they could've chosen two friends, or two strangers. But wasn't it just so much more fun with two long-time enemies?

[lichfucker]

BRAIN DAMAGE IN D MINOR?

lmaoooooo "brain damage in d minor" is a placeholder title and I live in fear every day that it's going to stick. the only other thing I call it in my own notes is "music and lyrics au" so unless something better appears I'm afraid brain damage in d minor will end up the actual title

a million years ago the sunder server watched music and lyrics (2007) for movie night, which is my favorite rom-com of all time, and I. could not stop thinking about how well the conceit works as a silverflint au. because I am the one with brain damage (in d minor)

it's likely the only bs modern au I'll ever write bc in general I find the canon time period far more compelling, but I digress. flint is a washed-up has-been-- he was in a boyband with thomas and peter ashe in the early '00s but it's been twenty years and his career is dead. suddenly he gets a call from gates, his manager, saying, "charles vane just left his band to get out of a contract with guthrie records and he wants to kick off his new solo venture by singing a duet with you, so you need to write a new song. okay bye"

the problem is that flint is a terrible lyricist. sure he could come up with a pretty metaphor, but he can't write things that are Relatable, and pop music is all about being Vague and Relatable. help, of course, comes from the least likely of places: john silver, a guy flint hires to water his plants, just so happens to be an excellent songwriter.

yes, this is extremely contrived. yes, it is following the plot of the movie to a tee (except, y'know, set in 2023 instead of in 2007).

a meet-cute for your perusal:

The buzzer rings, piercing through the rhythmic discordant chime of Flint repeatedly bashing his head onto the keys of the piano. Great. That’ll be Idelle in to water the plants, and he can either stay in the living room composing Brain Damage in D Minor while she does, or he can spare himself the humiliation and retreat into the privacy of his bedroom. Perhaps he’ll run a bath and drown himself in the lavish tub.

A sigh hauls itself out of Flint’s chest with all the effort of the tow truck that time in ’04 when the tour bus got impounded, and it takes similar heft for him to stand up from the piano bench and answer the door.

Flint registers long black hair before anything else, and his skull is so thick with cement that he nearly turns heel and stalks off to his room without so much as a grunt in hello—but he stops.

“You’re not Idelle,” Flint says.

A very astute observation: the person in the doorway has bluer eyes, tanner skin, and a significantly fuller beard.

The man’s gleaming smile falters. “No,” he says. “Sorry, did she not text you? I’m taking over for a few weeks while she’s away. Can I come in, or are all your plants out in the hall?”

Flint blinks. Considering the man looks like he hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep in his entire life, Flint hadn’t expected his voice to be so… smooth. Nor so English, not in Manhattan. Before Flint lets this stranger into his (admittedly, very thieve-able) apartment, though, he looks through his phone and—oh. Idelle had texted. Three times over the last two weeks. He’d even given her a thumbs-up emoji. Well, all right, then. He steps aside to let the man through.

“Thanks,” the man says, his bright smile back and full of teeth. “I’m John, by the way. John Silver.”

“James McGraw.”

Silver drops his messenger bag on the coffee table beside the chaise, looking around with cataloguing eyes at the veritable garden lined up along the floor-to-ceiling windows, the crystalline chandelier hanging over the dining table, the glossy baby grand on the shag carpet, the unmasked luxury in which Flint lives. “Watering can?” he asks.

“Under the sink,” Flint says, pointing him toward the kitchen. He waits a few beats and then follows, trying to keep a wary eye on Silver while appearing casual rather than paranoid. He leans coolly against the kitchen island just as Silver finishes filling the watering can. “So, Joe—”

“John,” he says, not unkindly. “Most of my friends just call me Silver, but I’d rather you call me John. No offense. Less personal, you know?”

“Using your given name is less personal than your surname?”

He gives Flint a pointed look. “I can be one of eight hundred Johns you’ve ever met, or I can be one of half a dozen Silvers, if even that many. Maybe we’ll be friends someday and you can call me whatever you like, but for now I’ll take John, thanks.”

Flint just barely suppresses a grin. “Fair enough,” he says. “Where are you from?”

Silver—John hesitates, and then he says, “London. And you?”

“Cornwall.”

“Really? You don’t sound it.”

“I trained myself out of it, a long time ago.” Flint watches John tend to the orchid on the counter, careful not to over-water it; he’s gentle and methodical with it, which isn’t what Flint had expected. He’s not sure what he expected, in truth. “So,” Flint says, “you’re a friend of Idelle’s? Where is she, anyway?”

The question earns him an indignant snort. “Idelle is in the Bahamas getting married, and I,” John says, crossing the living room to the ficus by the window, “got the great honor of not being fucking invited. She tried telling me it’s because they wanted to keep the guest list small, but I know that’s a damned lie. She invited Muldoon, of all fucking people. Logan I understand, because he and Charlotte are attached at the fucking hip, but Muldoon?” John scoffs. “No, it’s because Augie—her husband—never liked me, not that I have any idea why. Truth be told, I think Idelle herself only tolerates me because she’s close with my sister, and she knows not to say a bad word about me to Max if she intends to say any words for the rest of her life.”

He keeps talking as he progresses down the row of plants. “I told Max to bring me as her plus-one just to piss them all off, you know, but she’d already committed to taking her girlfriend, and, honestly, that’s comeuppance enough. I am far more fun at weddings than Anne is. Luckily for you, I’m also a far better plant-sitter, so—Fuck!”

John hisses in pain and turns around to face Flint, sucking on the pad of his thumb. “Fucking cactus,” he mumbles around the thumb in his mouth. The two of them stand there, twenty feet apart, for an odd moment, the air thick with… something. John narrows his startlingly blue eyes, scrutinizing Flint. Flint hasn’t a clue what he might be looking for. His lips work at his thumb all the while.

And then John’s thumb leaves his mouth with an obscene smack, the sound so loud in the dense silence that had befallen them, and he says, “You look really familiar. Are you famous or something?”

[woodsfae]

Babylon 5 s02e17: Knives S02 Table of Contents • previous episode

They have the space for an entire baseball field, but the hydroponics is so starved for space that one single coffee plant is wildly against regulations and is a secret passed from Laurel (my beloved) to Susan (also my beloved)?

Love the scary stories of the Down Below. It's deeply weird, though, how Garibaldi continues to be a voice of reason to Sheridan. Good character work, I guess, and I like Garibaldi a bit better the further into the season I get.

There are so many strange details thrown at us about various characters, and it definitely makes them feel more real Londo and Vir are very into Centauri opera. Of course they are, hah. This Centauri has a funny 'do. Is it shorter because he's more srs? His general look seems to be of a different style than Londo, and is reminiscent of a western casual, gentleman or scholarly look of the later 19th century.

Of course Sheridan went Down Below alone right after Garibaldi said that was a bad idea, and of course he found a corpse-turned-assailant-turned-corpse-again immediately.

Corpse reviving temporarily kills comms! Interesting!

Garibaldi: "Maybe next time you'll listen when I tell you not to do something. Sir."

lmao.

Dead Alien was staying in the Markab Sector, but was found in the Grey Sector, Down Below.

Fingers crossed for a Sheridan Gets Possessed By A Ghost episode.

Cute, Centauri war criminal nicknames.

Cool and creepy eye effect! Invisible Space Dinosaur called a Grylor!! This is great.

Forensics say the murdered alien actually bashed his own skull in and died of suicide. Seems unlikely.

Awww, Londo is still hung up on Adira from season one.

Londo: "The Centauri have bowed to the whims of other races for too long. Now we will show the galaxy our true spirit. Beginning with those, those, thrice-damned Narns."

Translation: "It sucks that we reined in some of our slave-empire colonization due to pressure from races who didn't like the violent, murdering colonizing. It's good to be back at it."

Huh, old war buddy is against the war and didn't want to see the Narns forced into military conflict. And doesn't realize he's talking to the guy who helped orchestrate all of it. Londo was either the best or the worst person to come to for help when your house is about to be disgraced. Idk which way Londo's going to jump or how this is going to land. On the one hand, Londo could chuck his old friend under the bus for his own gain. Or he could really save this guy's political reputation.

Of course Londo has a portrait of himself in his quarters. That's giving him some serious side-eye.

Susan Ivanova!!

Sheridan: "Commander. Everything in order?" Ivanova: "Remarkably so. It's beginning to worry me." Sheridan: "Do you always worry when things are going well?" Ivanova: "I don't have time to when they're not."

Sheridan gets more, fun, hallucinations! This is definitely normal and not something he should report to Dr Franklin. Anna keeps coming up which feeds my theory that she's still alive.

Oh, he did go report it to Franklin! Good move. Smartypants. Franklin is amusingly dismissive of this.

Dr Franklin: "Well, anyone wiling to command Babylon 5 has got to be slightly insane, but I don't think you're ready for the asylum just yet."

LMAO. What's a little hallucination or four compared to how nuts you have to be to take this job voluntarily?

Oh, interesting. The Markab sector is named after a people also called Markab?

Dr Franklin: "I'm also prescribing a mild sedative. I want you to relax and enjoy yourself - that is an order!"

aka, here's some oxys, go nuts?

Extremely cutthroat Centauri politics perfectly punctuated by Vir, here:

"You know, on rare occasions, I am proud to be your attache."

hah! He really is gaining in confidence.

Ahhh the Markab went through sector 14, which has been restricted since B4 disappeared and briefly re-appeared. dun dun dun!

I wonder if JMS realized that Garibaldi was wholly unlikable and shifted the writing for his character intentionally. Every time he's on screen the last few episodes, I find him easier and easier to like. Or maybe his relapse into alcoholism and subsequent recovery really shook some sense into him? He's funny and endearing now, in a way he wasn't for me since the pilot, The Gathering.

Centauri party. Always a good time to cringe out of my skin. Nothing has happened yet, but there's plenty of time left in the episode for it.

Of course the very person Londo went to for help is the one that has been trying to wreck the Laddo house. And of course Londo didn't know. He's so smug in his great political knowledge and power, but he ignored Centauri politics until something piques his interest and then he acts without knowing the details.

Vocator Laddo: "You cannot build an empire based on slaughter and deceit!"

well, actually I think that's the only way to build an empire and collect that much power, but you gotta start somewhere.

Death match!! Can't wait.

More possession and hallucinations for Sheridan!

Vir: "Disgrace is preferable to death!" Londo: "There was a time when I would agree with you! That time has passed." Vir: "Londo, this is insane!" Londo: "Insanity is part of the times! It's time to embrace the madness, let it fire you."

Maybe that really is the key. Or maybe I shouldn't take advice from Londo Mollari.

Sheridan and Garibaldi are heading to the restricted Sector 14!

Urza Laddo is much better at sword fighting than Londo is. But since I'm pretty sure Londo is in this show for the long run, this can't end with him being dead.

Garibaldi snagged Sheridan's ship, but did he get Sheridan's mind? This sector really does have some janky phenomena going on.

Damn, setting yourself up to be killed by one of your oldest friends so your family doesn't get disgraced by your political opponents is a move.

Sheridan's mind did come back with him, but he did leave behind a consciousness which wanted to be taken home. Weirdness abounds on B5!

House Laddo is no more, and its members are now House Mollari and under Londo's direct protection. That's an interesting cultural mechanism to make sure that people don't go into death matches too lightly. If you win, you get a whole fuckload of new dependents! I could also see people doing that to gain power over particular dependents, though.

Londo: "I have made many choices lately, Vir. And for the first time, I am not sure those choices were right." Vir, tired of being the Jiminy Cricket to the worlds' worst Pinocchio: "Then perhaps some good has come out of this tragedy! It's not too late to make some good choices." Londo buying into the Sunk Cost Fallacy: "No, the blood is already on my hands. Right or wrong, I must follow the path to its end."

It's a real bummer that killing one of his oldest and dearest friends isn't enough to make Londo actually change some of what he's up to or to second-guess some aspects of Centauri culture..

next episode

[mrsaltieri-real]

His Perfect Victim (Mickey Altieri X OC!Dahlia Levine)

Chapter 4: Friends

Word count: 3k

Warnings: language, mentions of sex, a little angst, fluff, Mickey being a dick, (obviously) Mickey being sweet, flashbacks to Stu, brief mention of death

The smut is COMING I promise, I’m just fleshing it out. This fic is immensely fun to write, so I’m fr bashing out the chapters but it’s so so enjoyable I can’t seem to stop myself. Thank you again to @bisexual-horror-fan for editing and beta reading this for me. I know the extremely subtle reference to Stu and Billy hit! Kisses dude love ya!!

Gotta include the moodboard you made for me in this chapter because it’s fucking chefs kiss.

���️⬆️THIS. THIS IS THE VIBE⬆️⬆️

I’d never been this hungover in my entire life, my head is pounding as if a marching band is walking around the perimeter of my skull.

I groggily forced my eyes open only to recoil under the comforter at the harsh light streaming in through the windows with a low groan. Fuck the light, fuck me for not closing the curtains, fuck alcohol.

But especially fuck Mickey.

It took longer than it should have for me to realise I wasn’t in my own dorm. Once I finally resurfaced from beneath the sheets I took in my surroundings, blinking rapidly at the familiar dorm that didn’t belong to me. The posters littering the walls, the small figurines on the desk and I glanced down, noticing the Star Wars image on the comforter and frowned a little, lifting a hand to rub my eyes.

“Morning!”

I jumped, hand clutching the side of my throbbing head as my eyes settled on Randy’s goofy smiling face. He was holding out a cup of coffee for me, but he lowered it a little when he saw I was staring at him with a look of horror, mouth agape.

“Oh, God. What- what am I doing here, Randy?” I asked weakly. My voice sounded hoarse and raspy and I flinched at the sound of it, eyes darting down to my body quickly, hands pulling the blanket back to see I was not in fact naked. Thank God I was still dressed in my jeans and crop top I was wearing last night.

Randy chuckled a little, placing the steaming mug on his bedside table before sitting on the edge of his bed. “Don’t worry, don’t worry. I found you last night throwing back shots with a couple of frat bros and decided it was time to take you home but you told me you didn’t want to be alone so I just brought you back here. I assumed it was safer than any of your other options and you clearly didn’t want to stick around Hallie and Sidney’s.” He stopped, eyes scanning over my face before he jerked a thumb behind him to his sofa which was covered over with a rumpled blanket and a pillow, “See? I slept on the couch.”

I relaxed a little, sighing in relief which made him roll his eyes. “Damn, D. Would you really be so disgusted if we hooked up?” He placed a hand over his chest in mock offence.

“Yes and you’d be too.” I said, reaching forward to nudge his shoulder which made him laugh again and nod his head in agreement.

I grabbed the coffee off the table, leaning back against his headboard and closed my eyes.

“Wanna talk about whatever happened with Mickey?” He asked hesitantly.

“I didn’t tell you?” I mumbled into the mug, glancing up at him as he shook his head before replying, “You weren’t really making a lot of sense. You kept shouting about a ‘Stupid blonde slut’ and that you were going to, ‘Kill that stupid fucking mouse’ but I didn’t get much from that.” For every quote his fingers came up in quotations and I rolled my eyes, unable to stop from smiling.

I shook my head before telling him, “It doesn’t matter. I’m not really sure if I really saw what I thought I did anyway, I was pretty drunk.”

“Pretty drunk? I had to brush your teeth for you, Dahlia.” Randy shivered as if the memory haunted him and I shoved his shoulder, scoffing at him before taking his hand with my free one, rubbing my thumb over his knuckles. “Thank you for taking care of me, Rand.” I said softly.

He clicked his tongue against his teeth bashfully, his cheeks flushing just slightly, “You don’t have to thank me, Dahlia. What are friends for?”

Before I left Randy’s I fixed my hair in his bathroom, giving up at the lousy attempt and rifling through my backpack for something to cover it with. For reference, my hair is dark, thick and curly, waving down to the middle of my back. I pulled out one of my favourite bandannas; maroon and patterned with flowers, with a relieved flourish and placed it over my head biker style, staring at my reflection.

God, I looked like shit.

Randy enjoyed teasing me for my quote “rustic bohemian” sense of style whilst Sidney absolutely adored it, constantly telling me as much. During my depressed period the upkeep on my fashion sense has faltered and I practically lived in sweats and oversized T-shirts that belonged to my dad, but I made the decision that when I went to college, if I wanted everyone to think I was truly getting better I’d have to act and dress like it. So for me, I was back in my comfort zone. But right now, it really didn’t look like it. Even in my favourite outfit, my brown and white soft striped cropped jumper and my cargo pants, I still looked horrifically hungover.

I quickly splashed some water over my face, stole some of Randy’s deodorant before pecking him goodbye on the cheek at his door, eager to get back to my own dorm to shower and change.

And who should appear as though from thin air?

“Walk of shame?”

I yelped, practically jumping out of my skin as I spun around seeing Mickey leaning against the wall of Randy’s building, toying with his video camera in his hands.

“Fuck off.” I snapped, turning back round to get as far away from him as possible. He caught up with me easily in just a few strides and I internally groaned. What the fuck was this guys problem?

“So you’re fucking Meeks? Guess that shouldn’t come to any surprise really.” I didn’t look at him as he spoke, I didn’t want to properly dignify such a ridiculous claim instead just replying with, “What do you care?”

“I don’t, really. Just think you can do better.”

I stopped so quickly he took a few more steps ahead before turning around and looking at me. Fuck, he looked good. He was wearing a dark blue button down shirt and black pants, his dark hair ruffled and messy as though he’d been running his hands through it.

Or as though some girl had been running her hands through it.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone? Go bother your girlfriend instead.” I was too tired, too hungover to put any emotion in my voice, looking at him blankly. He frowned slightly, tilting his head to the side as he looked down at me before asking, “What girlfriend?”

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms tightly across my chest and gripping my elbows, “Blonde girl? Under you last night? C’mon Mickey it’s been all of less than twelve hours.”

A smile played on the corners of his mouth as his eyebrows rose, his finger tapping against the side of his camera, “She wasn’t my girlfriend. Just some girl I fucked.”

I couldn’t stop the disgusted expression from taking over my face as I stared at him, “Oh, nice.” I muttered, “Aren’t you just charming.”

“I try.” He said cockily, shrugging his shoulders as he pointed, “It’s cute that you're jealous though.”

A surprised laugh burst through my lips and I shook my head, hands coming up to run over my face as I managed to get out, “Jealous? You think I’m jealous? You’re the one who lied to Sidney about wanting to apologise to me for being a jackass and trying to kiss me so I’d walk in and see you screwing some girl.”

His smile faltered slightly, arms dropping to his sides with his camera still clutched between his fingers, “Ah yeah, that. I guess I can be a bit of a jackass, huh?”

“More than a bit.” I muttered under my breath, starting to walk again. He walked beside me easily and I glanced at his face. He looked deep in thought, hands brought back in front of him as he played with his camera before he spoke again after about thirty seconds, “Sorry about that.”

“Hm?” I hummed as though I didn’t hear him.

He stifled a smile as he sighed, head tipping back a little, “I’m sorry about that. That was a fucked up thing to do. I just… I don’t know, I’m not used to rejection. Suppose I don’t take it well.”

“Yeah, I’ll say.” I scoffed and saw him smile down at me from the corner of my eye.

Damn him.

“Can I confess something to you?”

His tone made me look up at him in surprise, he sounded almost… Nervous? At this point I was so used to him being arrogant, confident and just a downright dick it completely caught me off guard.

“I guess?” I replied suspiciously.

“You have some kind of effect on me, Dahl. I don’t quite understand it to be honest. So yeah, when you physically fucking recoiled I assumed I read the signals wrong. So I kinda wanted to test it, you know? See how you would react if you saw me fucking some chick.” He spoke so candidly as though this was completely normal and average behaviour. Could he really not see that it wasn’t?

We were outside my building at this point and I paused, leaning against the cool brick and looking up at him, saying as softly as I could muster, “You know that’s not like… Normal, right? You could have just spoken to me.”

He looked thoughtful for a second as he nodded his head, eyes meeting mine. “Okay, I’ll talk to you. You wanna fuck?”

My eyes widened and I laughed in surprise. He was grinning at me cheekily, dimples pronounced in his cheeks and it didn’t falter as I laughed, only grew wider.

“No I don’t want to fuck you, Mickey.” I said once I stopped laughing, cheeks heating up a little before I continued, “But why don’t we start trying to be friends.”

He cocked his head to the side, smile shrinking just a little, “You wanna be my friend?”

“You said it yourself, we’re going to be around each other a lot. We might as well try. Besides, if you’re good enough for Sidney you’re good enough for me.” I held out my hand and his eyes dropped to it before looking back at my face, looking deeply amused by my formality as he asked, “Really? A handshake? What is this a fucking job interview?”

I looked down at my hand and back to him pointedly and he rolled his eyes, another smile stretching across his face as he took my hand and shook it gently, squeezing it softly. Mickey’s hand was calloused and rough. An unfamiliar but welcome warmth spread through my chest as he touched me, his eyes looking down into mine with a strange kind of affection.

The contact lingered a couple of seconds longer than necessary before I gently withdrew my hand, dropping it at my side.

“Okay, so we’re friends. That entails not fucking girls in my best friends bed and tricking me into watching it, alright?”

“Ah damn, we can’t build a foundation off of that? Not much of a voyeur, huh?” He teased and I shook my head, leaning up from the wall and pulling my keys from my jacket pocket before unlocking the door.

“Yeah, no. I’ll see you around, Mick.” I froze for a second before continuing, “-ey. Mickey.” I corrected myself quickly, wanting the ground to swallow me up.

He laughed again, holding up his hands. “Call me Mickey if you want, I’m not going to stop calling you Dahl.”

I smiled over my shoulder at him, finally pushing the door open and stepping inside.

“Wait, Dahl?”

I turned around, Mickey reached out and kept the door propped open with his hand just by my head. He stood right over me, so close and I noticed he smelled incredible, like spices and vanilla. His scent filled my nose and made my head spin and I subtly leaned against the door so I wouldn’t fucking fall as I breathed, “Mm?” Not at all trusting my voice.

He seemed to notice my little head rush and seemed to openly completely relish in knowing he had this effect on me as he leaned just a touch closer before he spoke, “I didn’t get the chance to say last night, but you looked hot. But honestly, I think you should wear the bandana more often, it suits you.”

I know I blushed, I know my cheeks completely stained pink as he glanced at them, his smile turning cocky as he pushed himself off the door and it swung closed as I stepped back, leaving me standing in the stairwell completely bewildered.

How the fuck did he do that, have this kind of instant effect on me? I’d never experienced this level of attraction to anybody before and I wasn’t entirely sure what to do with myself.

I’d never slept with anyone before. I hadn’t even fooled around and never really had time to do anything to myself. These feelings were just as endearing as they were confusing but at the moment, I wasn’t ready to explore them, right?

I thought about it as I walked up the seemingly endless stairwell to my dorm. Was this something I’d simply been putting off and making excuses for? I didn’t date in High School, too focused on school and life to even look at people in that way. Stu used to endlessly tease me for it, finding it truly hilarious that I was, at the time, seventeen and still hadn’t slept with anyone.

“What are you waiting for, D?” He’d teased, poking me in the ribs as I sat cross legged with him on his couch. I laughed, slapping his hands away from me before the guaranteed tickle fight began. Our respective parents were out of town yet again so we’d decided I’d stay over at the Machers instead of sitting home by myself for the weekend. I much preferred this anyway, Stu was more like a brother than a cousin to me.

“Stop fucking doing that you fucking ass.” I kicked out my foot but he caught it quickly, laughing as he pushed it down before continuing, “Seriously, Dahlia. What’s with the hold up?”

“You know what Stu, I don’t think I want to talk to my cousin about how I haven’t had sex yet. It’s creepy.”

Stu scoffed at me, leaning back on the couch and rolling his eyes, “Oh, please. That’s not why you don’t wanna talk about it.”

I leaned toward him and shoved his shoulder and he grabbed it in mock pain.

“No but seriously, I’m getting a bad rap. Why are you putting this off?” Stu seemed genuinely curious, fingers tapping on the upholstery of the arm of the sofa as he spoke.

I sighed, deciding to give in and tell him so he’d just let it go, “I’m not putting it off. I just… I want it to be with the right person, you know?” I spoke shyly, eyes dropping to my lap.

“Awe, how sweet and boring is that!” Stu teased but his eyes were still affectionate, “You want my advice?”

“Trust me Stu, I really really don’t.”

He ignored me, starting to talk again before I even finished my sentence, “Stick to that. Stick with your gut and wait till you find someone you really care about.”

I glanced up at him, seeing an expression on his face I hadn’t seen before as I asked softly, “Sounds like you wish you’d waited for a certain someone, huh?”

Stu smiled halfheartedly at me with a small upturn on his shoulders.

“Is it who I think it is?” I asked gently.

He nodded his head with a sigh, picking at the loose fabric of the arm of the couch, “Yeah, it’s who you think. You’re right for wanting to wait, trust me. Because man, when you find that person? Fuck, nothing else matters.”

By the time my little trip down memory lane was over I had finally made my way into my dorm and was relieved to discover my roommate wasn’t home. Karla was a nice enough girl, but I’d always found small talk insufferable and we just didn’t have the kind of relationship where talking came easy so I just hadn’t bonded with her the five months I’d been living with her. Lucky for me, my classes were in the morning and hers were in the afternoon and more often than not she would stay out at her boyfriend's off campus apartment so I pretty much had the place to myself.

I dropped my bag on the bed and walked to the bathroom, stripping off on my way and popping my clothes in my hamper by the door. I caught my reflection in the bathroom mirror and had to do a double take.

I didn’t look at all like myself, or at least the version of myself I’d grown accustomed to looking like.

My cheeks were flushed and my lips were upturned in a smile, but that wasn’t what caught my attention.

The thing that was most surprising was my eyes. They looked bright, lively and almost wild. I hadn’t seen myself look this way in forever and it caught me completely off guard.

I spent a lot of time faking being happy, mainly to appease friends and my parents but now? There was nothing artificial about the way I looked.

I looked happy.

Usually even if I happened to be in a good mood, reminiscing about past conversations with Stu brought me down and crushed me all over again. As my reflection stared back at me in the mirror I realised for the first time since Woodsbro thinking about him didn’t make me depressed, it didn’t make me wish I in fact stayed dead.

Thinking of that playful conversation made me realise how right Stu was. I never wanted to make the same mistake he made, I was one of the only people that knew what he was hiding from everyone and although this was different, I knew that that memory didn’t pop into my head out of nowhere.

I didn’t know Mickey well, we were just starting to become friends after all. But I hadn’t felt this happy, this content for far too long, if ever.

I touched the corners of my eyes as I looked at my reflection as I thought, maybe he was the right person?

Chapter Five HERE

[paranoidwriter]

Whenever I see you, I want to throw up (Wenclair one shot)

another edited fic from my ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonshiiinee

Requests are open! 🖤

Wednesday hated Enid. She hated the way she smiled. The way she laughed. And especially she hated how colorful she was. Colorfully annoying (oh, she needed to write that down, she would use that later). Wednesday felt such a deep hate for her, that every time she even saw Enid, her belly felt a deep swoop, as if she was on a falling roller coaster. Except there was absolutely no thrill. She was dying to get rid of her hate, and at least turn it to bitter resentment. She just couldn't stand her reactions around Enid, and she needed to do something about it, for it was becoming embarrassing. Bianca had even pointed out that her face became red with anger around Enid, something she tried to fix with makeup (tried). Although Wednesday knew what the problem was, she had no idea what to do to fix it. She had considered bothering her uncle fester for help, but unfortunately he was busy in Puerto Rico, so she settled for the next best thing. Tyler.

Tyler was a teenage male, so Wednesday was relatively confident he would be able to help her. She obviously was not going to ask Thing, who would definitely blab to her parents about her rivalry. "Let's say I had feelings for someone" Wednesday started when he sat down her quad, cutting to the chase. "Oh-- Oh?" Tyler uttered. Wednesday made no effort to respond just yet, instead dipping her spoon into her drink and pulling it out, hovering her fingers close to the metal to gauge how hot it was. Too hot.

...

......

"And let's say, these feelings are making it near impossible for me to focus on anything" continued Wednesday, completely disregarding the red face of Tyler and instead blowing on her quad delicately, stirring it to cool it down. The foam resembled a skull, which calmed Wednesdays nerves on the thought of her blonde roommate. "And. Theoretically. Let's assume that I need help with these feelings. What should I do?" Wednesday inquired, swishing around her coffee. Tyler leaned on her table, pressing his arm against Wednesdays. Wednesday pulled away and brushed it off like she was picking up her cup. "Well" said Tyler with a chuckle. "I would tell this person how I feel" Wednesday nodded. Finally. A clear, simple answer. Suddenly it all made sense. "Perfect. Thank you." Wednesday replied, getting up from her seat and walking straight out of the shop. She hadn't realized that Tyler had called after her, or that she had left her cup behind.

"Enid"

Enid looked up from her computer, and again, came the swooshing sound of her heart dropping into her stomach. Oh, she hated her.. Wednesday felt a knife drag down her throat, ticking her voice. She could barely even start, but once she managed to find her dead voice, she couldn't stop. "Enid, whenever I see your hideous fashion choices, I want to rip my eyeballs out because of how much stupid highlighter pinks you wear. Whenever I see you, I want to throw up." and it felt amazing to get it out. "Enid, whenever I see you, I feel a hate so deep and disgusting that it takes all I can to not bash my head into the nearest object" Wednesday took three long steps closer to Enid, stepping over the tape she had set. "Whenever I see you, my heart goes into my belly and I can barely speak. My head spins and my face feels like it's on fire, and I am disgusted at such an affect you have on me that I wish to cut you out of my life, which I somehow can't find it in myself to do." That sounded much too sentimental, but Wednesday could barely filter her words with how fast she was speaking, or even realize the slight shakiness coming into her voice. "Unfortunately, I have come to enjoy your senseless, confusing blog. And your stupid makeup. And even your disgusting colorful wardrobe!" and then it all clicked. And Wednesday realized. So she just said it. "Enid, I have feelings for you" Enid's jaw dropped, and Wednesday actually felt her cheeks heat up again at the little smile forming on Enids face. "Oh" she breathed out, feeling such a strange feeling bubble in her chest. A good feeling that she couldn't possibly explain. Enid hesitantly reached out, offering her hand. Wednesday hesitated as well. When Enid began to withdraw her hand, she quickly shot out and grabbed Enids wrist, interlacing their fingers in a particularly rough fashion. There were no words. But when Enids claws came out, Wednesday marveled. Enid giggled. And Wednesday knew everything would turn out fine.

[silvershewolf247]

Plans

Part 2 of the last fic. Still not proofread. Might edit later.

Everyone has a response to terror. An instinct when the blood runs cold. Fight, flight, fawn, and freeze. The Ray family’s response to terror, is freak the fuck out. 

“Dad, stop it, let her go!” Glen screamed. 

“Glen, go to your room, the adults are talking,” Chucky said. Tiffany made a reach for the knife, but Chucky kept it out of reach. She was pinned against the wall and couldn’t move an inch without him noticing. Glen ran up to their dad and pulled at his shoulder. Their father just rolled his eyes. And when they started hitting him, he turned his head and released one hand to grab Glen and shove them to the ground. 

Tiffany saw her chance and grabbed the antler of the deer skull. It popped out of the socket and she bashed the back of his skull as he turned back around. He didn’t go down but she didn’t think he would. He let go and staggered back. She could work with what she had. She walked around him, putting distance between her and the wall, as he recovered. 

“Okay Andy, now that you’re back, maybe we can have a mature conversat…” before she could finish he had torn the deer antler from her hands and used it to bash her knee, sending her to the ground.

“Fuck Tiff, that took me hours!” he responded, tossing away the antler. He kneeled over her. 

“You’re still you” she said, confused. He put his hands on her throat again 

“Yeah, different piece, different body, different rules,” he said. Glen grabbed their head and tried to squint away the black spots in their vision. 

“Anyway, I don’t know what you thought bringing Andy back would accomplish. He wants you dead just as much as I do,” he said, his grip tightened around her throat again

“Maybe more,” he shrugged, “I mean, ya killed his sister,” Tiffany’s eyes widened. 

“...Didn’t,” she choked out.

“Oh please, you set up the bomb, I was a severed head at the time, even if I helped. You did it!” he responded, emphasizing the last sentence. 

“Not…dead…” she said. “What?” he responded, taken aback, his grip loosened slightly. 

“Kyle’s… not… dead” she said. His hands were off his throat, and he fell back leaning on his feet. He looked visibly shaken. Tiffany took the chance to kick him in the gut and knock him back so she could get up. Glen came over and helped her up. Andy grabbed the top of the end table to pull himself up. He leaned against the wall for support and grabbed his head with one of his hands, squinting with pain. Before Tiffany could even think about what to do next. Andy had pulled the knife back out and was pointing it at her. 

“Talk! Now,” he demanded. Tiffany was unfazed, Glen could see that. She went to the couch and sat down. Her knee seemingly recovered. 

“She’s not dead, don’t know how she survived, but she’s alive, she’s off with Nica and Glenda,” Tiffany said. Glen walked over to Andy. They were trying to get him to sit down, but he wouldn’t budge. 

“How do you know this?” he asked. 

“I called Glenda from a payphone and I overheard her on the other end,” she said. 

“You could be lying,” he said. 

“I could. But you and I both know I’m not,” she responded. Andy looked away from both of them. 

“Kyle’s alive,” he said. He was smiling, Glen never saw him smile that big. It only lasted a second before the same consistent terror in his eyes came back stronger than ever. 

“This is good news right, your sister’s alive, she can help you,” Glen said in a panic, trying to support Andy and get him to sit down. 

“You knew, didn’t you?” he asked. Glen really was a shit liar. 

“I managed to steal my phone back and call Glenda for a second, and they told me,” they said. 

“Must have been after me, because they didn’t seem to know about Andy’s predicament,” Tiffany said. Glen glared at her for a second before looking away.. “I didn’t get a chance to tell them, Dad broke my phone before I could,” Glen said. 

“Did you tell them?” Andy asked, Tiffany chuckled. 

“Of course not, that bitch stole my girlfriend, why would I give her help?” Tiffany said. Glen expected anger, or fear, but all of a sudden, Andy stood taller than before. He took a deep breath.

“Glen, do you remember what I told you?” he asked. After finding dad’s spare keys. He had told them how to get to the nearest gas station and told them he had a plan and how he’d tell them he was enacting it. Glen nodded. 

“I’m gonna need you to run now,” Andy said. Before Glen could react, Andy was in dad’s bedroom. They heard the door lock and a key fall down the sink drain. 

“C’mon Barclay, you got one shot here,” he said under his breath. Glen stood there. Once they heard their dad again, they could run. They’d borrow a phone at the gas station and call Glenda. Their mom was smiling. 

…

…

…  

Then they heard their father screaming.

“HE SLIT MY FUCKING WRISTS!” Glen’s face blanched. Tiffany grabbed their hand and tried to pull them to the door.

“C’mon Glen, let’s get out of here,” Tiffany said with a warm smile. Glen could hear their father looking under the floorboards for the spare key and screaming in horror when he didn’t find them. Glen reached into their pocket where they had all the keys. 

“Glen, champ, I need you to open the door,” he sounded desperate. 

“Glen, we need to leave,” Tiffany said. 

“Glen, open the door!” he demanded.

“Ignore him Glen, he can’t hurt you now,” Tiffany said, petting Glen’s hair and trying to guide their head to make them look at her and not at the bedroom door. 

“But… he’ll die,” Glen said. 

“Your father has tried to kill us before, there’s no reason to protect him, plus he’s got other pieces of him, so it’s not even really death,” Tiffany said, trying again to pull them out the door. 

“GLEN OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!”  he was begging

“What about Andy?” Glen asked, concerned.

“What about Andy?” Tiffany asked, confused. 

“Andy’s dying,” Glen said. 

“And…” Tiffany said, before noticing Glen’s concern. 

“He’s my friend,” Glen said, they sounded small. 

“Look, Andy Barclay, is an annoying pest with little to live for who wants nothing more than to kill your parents. He’s made his choice. This doesn’t have to be our problem anymore,” Tiffany said, she held both of Glen’s hands. Glen finally looked their mother in the eyes. 

“You knew he’d do this, didn’t you?” Glen asked. Tiffany looked away for a second. Before looking back in Glen’s burning eyes.

“He threw himself off a cliff when he thought she was dead, it was fair to assume he’d die to keep her safe,” Tiffany said. Glen pulled their hands away. 

“Glen, I’m sorry, I know I’ve been shitty. I’ll be better. Please… I don’t want to die,” he was begging. 

“I think you should leave,” Glen said to their mother. They opened the bedroom door. Their father was trying to press down on his wounds with white washcloths that had been soaked red.

“What do you need me to do,” Glen asked their father. He gave them a small smile. “Get the first aid kit from the cabinet next to the kitchen. I’ll walk you through stitching up my wrists,” he said. Glen nodded. They went to grab the kit. Tiffany just stared at them in disbelief. When they got back, their dad started talking.

“Thank you kiddo. I meant what I was saying, I’m going to be kinder, more patient. We’re going to fix this, all of it,” he said. 

“Okay dad,” Glen said with a nod. 

“I love you kiddo,” he said. 

“I love you too dad,” they responded. Chucky pulled them in for a hug, dripping blood down their back. As Tiffany watched, Chucky flipped her off behind Glen. 

[fr4nkie-4]

i want someone to grab me by hair and bash my head against the side of a table until my skull cracks