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autistichalsin · 9 months ago

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In retrospect, four years later, I feel like the Isabel Fall incident was just the biggest ignored cautionary tale modern fandom spaces have ever had. Yes, it wasn't limited to fandom, it was also a professional author/booktok type argument, but it had a lot of crossover.

Stop me if you've heard this one before: a writer, whether fan or pro, publishes a work. If one were to judge a book by its cover, something we are all taught in Kindergarten shouldn't happen but has a way of occurring regardless, one might find that there was something that seemed deeply problematic about this work. Maybe the title or summary alluded to something Wrong happening, or maybe the tags indicated there was problematic kinks or relationships. And that meant the story was Bad. So, a group of people takes to the Twittersphere to inform everyone who will listen why the work, and therefore the author, are Bad. The author, receiving an avalanche of abuse and harassment, deactivates their account, and checks into a mental health facility for monitoring for suicidal ideation. They never return to their writing space, and the harassers get a slap on the wrist (if that- usually they get praise and high-fives all around) and start waiting for their next victim to transgress.

Sounds awful familiar, doesn't it?

Isabel Fall's case, though, was even more extreme for many reasons. See, she made the terrible mistake of using a transphobic meme as the genesis to actually explore issues of gender identity.

More specifically, she used the phrase "I sexually identify as an attack helicopter" to examine how marginalized identities, when they become more accepted, become nothing more than a tool for the military-industrial complex to rebrand itself as a more personable and inclusive atrocity; a chance to pursue praise for bombing brown children while being progressive, because queer people, too, can help blow up brown children now! It also contained an examination of identity and how queerness is intrinsic to a person, etc.

But... well, if harassers ever bothered to read the things they critique, we wouldn't be here, would we? So instead, they called Isabel a transphobic monster for the title alone, even starting a misinformation campaign to claim she was, in fact, a cis male nazi using a fake identity to psyop the queer community.

A few days later, after days of horrific abuse and harassment, Isabel requested that Clarkesworld magazine pull the story. She checked in to a psych ward with suicidal thoughts. That wasn't all, though; the harassment was so bad that she was forced to out herself as trans to defend against the claims.

Only... we know this type of person, the fandom harassers, don't we? You know where this is going. Outing herself did nothing to stop the harassment. No one was willing to read the book, much less examine how her sexuality and gender might have influenced her when writing it.

So some time later, Isabel deleted her social media. She is still alive, but "Isabel Fall" is not- because the harassment was so bad that Isabel detransitioned/closeted herself, too traumatized to continue living her authentic life.

Supposed trans allies were so outraged at a fictional portrayal of transness, written by a trans woman, that they harassed a real life trans woman into detransitioning.

It's heartbreakingly familiar, isn't it? Many of us in fandom communities have been in Isabel's shoes, even if the outcome wasn't so extreme (or in some cases, when it truly was). Most especially, many of us, as marginalized writers speaking from our own experiences in some way, have found that others did not enjoy our framework for examining these things, and hurt us, members of those identities, in defense of "the community" as a nebulous undefined entity.

There's a quote that was posted in a news writeup about the whole saga that was published a year after the fact. The quote is:

The delineation between paranoid and reparative readings originated in 1995, with influential critic Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick. A paranoid reading focuses on what’s wrong or problematic about a work of art. A reparative reading seeks out what might be nourishing or healing in a work of art, even if the work is flawed. Importantly, a reparative reading also tends to consider what might be nourishing or healing in a work of art for someone who isn’t the reader. This kind of nuance gets completely worn away on Twitter, home of paranoid readings. “[You might tweet], ‘Well, they didn’t discuss X, Y, or Z, so that’s bad!’ Or, ‘They didn’t’ — in this case — ‘discuss transness in a way that felt like what I feel about transness, therefore it is bad.’ That flattens everything into this very individual, very hostile way of reading,” Mandelo says. “Part of reparative reading is trying to think about how a story cannot do everything. Nothing can do everything. If you’re reading every text, fiction, or criticism looking for it to tick a bunch of boxes — like if it represents X, Y, and Z appropriately to my definitions of appropriate, and if it’s missing any of those things, it’s not good — you’re not really seeing the close focus that it has on something else.”

A paranoid reading describes perfectly what fandom culture has become in the modern times. It is why "proship", once simply a word for common sense "don't engage with what you don't like, and don't harass people who create it either" philosophies, has become the boogeyman of fandom, a bad and dangerous word. The days of reparative readings, where you would look for things you enjoyed, are all but dead. Fiction is rarely a chance to feel joy; it's an excuse to get angry, to vitriolically attack those different from oneself while surrounded with those who are the same as oneself. It's an excuse to form in-groups and out-groups that must necessarily be in a constant state of conflict, lest it come across like This side is accepting That side's faults. In other words, fandom has become the exact sort of space as the nonfandom spaces it used to seek to define itself against.

It's not about joy. It's not about resonance with plot or characters. It's about hate. It's about finding fault. If they can't find any in the story, they will, rest assured, create it by instigating fan wars- dividing fandom into factions and mercilessly attacking the other.

And that's if they even went so far as to read the work they're critiquing. The ones they don't bother to read, as you saw above, fare even worse. If an AO3 writer tagged an abuser/victim ship, it's bad, it's fetishism, even if the story is about how the victim escapes. If a trans writer uses the title "I Sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter" to find a framework to dissect rainbow-washing the military-industrial complex, it's unforgivable. It's a cesspool of kneejerk reactions, moralizing discomfort, treating good/evil as dichotomous categories that can never be escaped, and using that complex as an excuse to heap harassment on people who "deserve it." Because once you are Bad, there is no action against you that is too Bad for you to deserve.

Isabel Fall's story follows this so step-by-step that it's like a textbook case study on modern fandom behavior.

Isabel Fall wrote a short story with an inflammatory title, with a genesis in transphobic mockery, in the hopes of turning it into a genuine treatise on the intersection of gender and sexuality and the military-industrial complex. But because audiences are unprepared for the idea of inflammatory rhetoric as a tool to force discomfort to then force deeper introspection... they zeroed in on the discomfort. "I Sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter"- the title phrase, not the work- made them uncomfortable. We no longer teach people how to handle discomfort; we live in a world of euphemism and glossing over, a world where people can't even type out the words "kill" and rape", instead substituting "unalive" and "grape." We don't deal with uncomfortable feelings anymore; we censor them, we transform them, we sanitize them. When you are unable to process discomfort, when you are never given self-soothing tools, your only possible conclusion is that anything Uncomfortable must be Bad, and the creator must either be censored too, or attacked into conformity so that you never again experience the horrors of being Uncomfortable.

So the masses took to Twitter, outraged. They were Uncomfortable, and that de facto meant that they had been Wronged. Because the content was related to trans identity issues, that became the accusation; it was transphobic, inherently. It couldn't be a critique of bigger and more fluid systems than gender identity alone; it was a slight against trans people. And no amount of explanations would change their minds now, because they had already been aggrieved and made to feel Uncomfortable.

Isabel Fall was now a Bad Person, and we all know what fandom spaces do to Bad People. Bad People, because they are Bad, will always be deserving of suicide bait and namecalling and threatening. Once a person is Bad, there is no way to ever become Good again. Not by refuting the accusations (because the accusations are now self-evident facts; "there is a callout thread against them" is its own tautological proof that wrongdoing has happened regardless of the veracity of the claims in the callout) and not by apologizing and changing, because if you apologize and admit you did the Bad thing, you are still Bad, and no matter what you do in future, you were once Bad and that needs to be brought up every time you are mentioned. If you are bad, you can NEVER be more than what you were at your worst (in their definition) moment. Your are now ontologically evil, and there is no action taken against you that can be immoral.

So Isabel was doomed, naturally. It didn't matter that she outed herself to explain that she personally had lived the experience of a trans woman and could speak with authority on the atrocity of rainbow-washing the military industrial complex as a proaganda tool to capture progressives. None of it mattered. She had written a work with an Uncomfortable phrase for a title, the readers were Uncomfortable, and someone had to pay for it.

And that's the key; pay for it. Punishment. Revenge. It's never about correcting behavior. Restorative justice is not in this group's vocabulary. You will, incidentally, never find one of these folks have a stance against the death penalty; if you did Bad as a verb, you are Bad as an intrinsic, inescapable adjective, and what can you do to incorrigible people but kill them to save the Normal people? This is the same principle, on a smaller scale, that underscores their fandom activities; if a Bad fan writes Bad fiction, they are a Bad person, and their fandom persona needs to die to save Normal fans the pain of feeling Uncomfortable.

And that's what happened to Isabel Fall. The person who wrote the short story is very much alive, but the pseudonym of Isabel Fall, the identity, the lived experiences coming together in concert with imagination to form a speculative work to critique deeply problematic sociopolitical structures? That is dead. Isabel Fall will never write again, even if by some miracle the person who once used the name does. Even if she ever decides to restart her transition, she will be permanently scarred by this experience, and will never again be able to share her experience with us as a way to grow our own empathy and challenge our understanding of the world. In spirit, but not body, fandom spaces murdered Isabel Fall.

And that's... fandom, anymore. That's just what is done, routinely and without question, to Bad people. Good people are Good, so they don't make mistakes, and they never go too far when dealing with Bad people. And Bad people, well, they should have thought before they did something Bad which made them Bad people.

Isabel Fall's harassment happened in early 2020, before quarantine started, but it was in so many ways a final chance for fandom to hit the breaks. A chance for fandom to think collectively about what it wanted to be, who it wanted to be for and how it wanted to do it. And fandom looked at this and said, "more, please." It continues to harass marginalized people, especially fans of color and queen fans, into suffering mental breakdowns. With gusto.

Any ideas of reparative reading is dead. Fandom runs solely on paranoid readings. And so too is restorative justice gone for fandom transgressions, real or imagined. It is now solely about punitive, vigilante justice. It's a concerted campaign to make sure oddballs conform or die (in spirit, but sometimes even physically given how often mentally ill individuals are pushed into committing suicide).

It's a deeply toxic environment and I'm sad to say that Isabel Fall's story was, in retrospect, a sort of event horizon for the fandom. The gravitational pull of these harassment campaigns is entirely too strong now and there is no escaping it. I'm sorry, I hate to say something so bleak, but thinking the last few days about the state of fandom (not just my current one but also others I watch from the outside), I just don't think we can ever go back to peaceful "for joy" engagement, not when so many people are determined to use it as an outlet for lateral aggression against other people.

#isabel fall #fandom #proship #proshippers please interact #proship please interact #profiction

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thebibliosphere · 2 years ago

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Every time someone well-meaning suggests I see a chiropractor for my migraines, I have this little moment of "ah, you're new here. You weren't here prior to 2018 when a chiropractor very gently adjusted my neck for my migraines, and I ended up having to get an emergency MRI because the ensuing symptoms were indicative of a brain bleed."

It wasn't a brain bleed. The muscles on the entire right side of my neck "just" tore (Spoiler there is nothing "just" about that kind of traumatic injury. I am still in physical rehab for it), and I couldn't hold my head up, see straight, walk or do any of the things I'd previously taken for granted until several weeks later when the area finally started to heal.

This was before I knew I had Ehlers Danlos, btw. But this is true even for people who don't have a connective tissue disorder: Don't let chiropractors touch your neck.

There are a lot of vital nerves and blood vessels there, and even gentle adjustments of the area can have life-threatening consequences.

I know chiropractic care can be pain relieving--I still get it for my lower back and hips because I work with a chiropractor who knows about Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, and sometimes my hips need to be popped back in at short notice, and it's easier to hop walk in and see her than wait for physical therapy--but it is a short-term relief that doesn't actually correct why something is happening.

If you can afford it, physical therapy will likely help more in the long term. I know not everyone can afford it, and that's why chiropractors have such a booming trade in the US, but please, I'm begging you, don't get your neck adjusted.

The spinal cord specialist I saw after my injury told me the number one reason he used to see people for traumatic brain injuries was car wrecks, followed by other major roadside injuries. He said those numbers were still the highest, but after that, the majority of his patients were survivors of chiropractic injury.

Do Not Get Your Neck Adjusted.

It's been over 5 years, and I still can't move my neck properly on my right side. I still struggle to eat and drink because my muscles will randomly seize up. It feels like my skull no longer fits on top of my spine because of the scar tissue. Please. I just want people to be safe.

And if you are a chiropractor reading this and thinking, "Well, I've never injured anyone, skill issue." No. You Have Gotten Lucky. Rethink how you apply your trade. Please, you can still help people while recommending safer options for specific body parts. Learn to do pressure point release and acupressure. Teach patients how to stretch and relax the area safely. Just fucking stop cracking people's necks like pop rock candy.

#chronic health tag #medical psa

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bluebellwren · 2 months ago

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Imma be honest if not for the alert on my phone I probably would have slept through the whole thing lol

#so I guess I’m nothing if not a product of my environment #I don’t like natural disasters for some reason. I think I was traumatized after living through the storm back in 2011 #and after helene I’m also just kinda anxious about them #but I have to coexist with them #we get hurricanes tornadoes AND earthquakes around here #though that last one is usually minor enough that you don’t feel them #but we’ve had some bigger ones #I woke up one morning to the dogs and cats freaking out and trying to wake me up #ignored them and went back to sleep and my mom comes home from work the next day and asked me if I felt the earthquake that night #and I was like ‘oh. that’s what they were upset about’#probably delete later

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pythonmoth · 3 months ago

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cw: post-traumatic stress disorder (torture). reader is unreliable, angry and inconsistent. reader is traumatized. military inaccuracies. jealous simon, jealous johnny. bros kissing their mates.

simon x f!reader. poly tf141. father figure price.

First | Last | Next

After your talk with Price, and the promise of Gaz bringing you food, you realize there's not much you can do. You can't use your fingers properly, you can't walk, you can't read, you can't even use a phone. It's not like you can concentrate, even if you wanted to. Your mind feels fuzzy and blurry, like you're under water.

Ironic.

Having nothing else to do, your mind goes back to Ghost and Soap. You try to concentrate on the man under the mask, on Johnny's loud laugh when Simon would pin him to the bed so you could tickle him or forcefully shave that disturbing mustache he gets sometimes, or Simon's crude, ridiculous jokes. A smile makes it to your lips when you remember your favorite.

"What do you call a dog with no legs?" you mumble, shaking your head. With a sigh, you look at your hands, the dull pain making your eye twitch. "Doesn't matter. He's not coming either way" you whisper to yourself, closing your eyes. Now that the panic has gone down and now that you know the full story, from Price's mouth at least, you really, really want to forgive them.

Really.

But just thinking of them makes it impossible for you to focus on the good parts; at least not long enough to forget the rest. The soft kisses, the cuddles, the long nights filled with smoke, and drinks, and holding each other in a single bed. All of that, is covered by a thick layer of betrayal and pain. You might understand Price, but the fact that he used your deepest fear against you is something you will never forget nor forgive. Same goes for Ghost and Soap. They don't deserve your forgiveness, and you're aware of that.

Your mind goes back to the day Simon confessed, making your dark thoughts pause for a moment.

All of you were drinking that night and they wanted to play truth or dare. Price had to lick places around the base nobody would dare mention again, Johnny had to wear your bra filled with peanuts for seven rounds —Price thought it would be funny—, and you all had fun making each other kiss. Hands, cheeks, lips, foreheads. If Gaz had to kiss Price's ass, nobody will ever mention it again.

It wasn't so funny, though, when Gaz dared you to kiss Simon. You were dismissive, saying it's funnier when they kiss each other, but then:

"Just say you're a wimp. You're scared you'll like it".

Not even two weeks later, Simon confessed. He wrote a ridiculous poem of your eyes shining like grenades, your hair being as dry as the desert, and your lips tasting like the first sip of water you take right after waking up at night in a mission, rusty but perfect.

It worked, of course.

A soft knock on your door makes you flinch, sudden fear making your heart pound hard. All thoughts and memories leave your mind in a second. You keep silent, staring blankly at the door as it slowly creaks open.

"Hey, it's me. Come in peace. Brought you food".

"Gaz" you cry out, rushing to stand up. It was a bad idea, but you couldn't even focus on that. Gaz' eyes go wide and jumps forward, nearly dropping the food in his haste to catch you when your knees give out, hissing in pain as your feet touch the ground.

"What are you getting up for, you idiot?" Gaz scolds, his arms under your armpits to keep you up, gripping the bag of food between his teeth so he can help you onto the bed. "Dumbass. Come on".

He keeps on grumbling at you for a few moments, setting the food aside after making sure you're comfortable. He tells you something about how he had to fight the lady in the mess hall for it, but you can only stare at him. He looks tired.

"You look like shit" you mumble, interrupting whatever he was talking about. Gaz looks down at you and grips your nose between his fingers, shaking your head slightly.

"Missed you, too. Now, come on, let's eat. I'm starving" he says, not giving you a moment of silence. You know he's trying to take care of you, so you just let him guide you, both of you sitting on the bed. You watch him set the food between the two of you.

He talks about his mission, though you're not sure he actually did all that or if he's bluffing just to make you concentrate on something else. He's halfway done with his food when he realizes you're just listening to him talk and haven't eaten.

"Weren't you hungry?" Gaz questions, his voice a little muffled, his mouth is filled with food. It's terribly disgusting, but it makes you feel warm.

"I guess. I don't know" you sigh, uncomfortable. You stab the food silently, not really in the mood for eating. Just the thought of it being even a little salty makes you want to throw up. And, using a fork feels ridiculously hard, even with all the bandages keeping your fingers safe from pain.

Gaz reaches out to steal a piece of chicken from your plate and takes a bite, munching happily as he starts talking again, mouth full. You don't realize he slowly starts feeding you the bites he steals, filling your mouth and watching you chew.

He's the same as always. Maybe it helps that he doesn't treat you like a victim, or perhaps it is that your tummy is full, because your head lands on his shoulder at some point. Gaz watches you sleep, his yapping coming to a stop as you drool on his uniform. He gently moves the food from the bed, making sure you stay comfortable resting against him.

Deep in sleep, your dreams are haunted by Ghost's mask. It morphs into a smile, laughing at you, haunting you, the teeth opening wide as if to bite your head off. Hundreds of Soap's hands grip you from everywhere, and you scream, and cry, and beg, and Ghost's just laughing at you, Price's voice echoing somewhere in the back of your mind, but you can't make out what he's saying.

You slowly wake up from your nightmare, your head spinning. Gaz' shaking your shoulder slightly, a lazy smile on his lips. "Oi, morning. You slept like a rock for nearly a day, good for you".

Gaz has to trick you so you can eat again, but when he leaves, promising you he'll be back later, your coffee remains untouched. You stare at the cup as the medics come and go, checking your hands and your feet. They tell you it's for the discharge, but you're really uncomfortable as they touch you, as they check on the wounds. You knew they were bad and that it would take at least four to six months for you to walk with the boots again and not feel pain, but when they confirm it, you want to curl in the bed and cry.

When the military psychologist gives you a visit, your sobs just can't stop. Talking about it is even more difficult than experiencing it, you realize. Your mind has locked so many things but you refuse to let them out for now, not wanting to accept anything but the pain they caused you. In any case, the psychologist isn't there to be of help just now. You know it's for the discharge, again, but it's as if they wanted to make sure you're truly crazy traumatized enough for them to send you home.

The exams take three days. Gaz and Price have been visiting you as much as they can, both of them managing to make you smile, or at least distract you. Even Ghost? Simon comes to visit you, with a different mask, and he takes it off as soon as he's inside so you can see his face. He looks as tense as always, but he keeps bringing things he knows you like: a chocolate, sour candy, even some of Johnny's cookies.

"Is he... not visiting?" you question him, your eyes fixed on the sour candy, blinking slowly. In a way, it pisses you off that he doesn't have the balls to come and see you. Again, it's not like you expected—

"Johnny's scared you won't want to see him" Simon answers, his voice gruff and hard, but it's clear he's trying to be gentle. He sounds different without the mask, and that helps your shoulders relax. Not much, though.

"Well, he hasn't come. How is he supposed to know?" you grumble, crushing one of the cookies with the heel of your palm. "I don't want to see you and you're here, anyway".

When you don't hear his response, you look up at him. He looks like he wants to cry, you realize. He's been doing that. Whenever you tell him the truth, he goes silent. Whenever you say you're scared of him, he's silent, whenever you say no, why would I want you to hug me?, he's silent.

You know you're probably being unfair, but how is that your fault, though? You're angry, pissed, and he keeps coming, showing you his face like you're so dumb you can't understand he will still wear the other mask outside, like you're so stupid he can fool you and make you think he never meant to hurt you. Isn't that why he did that, anyway? The only reason you stand him is because Price and Gaz have been telling you he's been mopping around like a fucking pup, and that maybe just letting him sit with you isn't a bad idea. But how's that not a bad idea? It's ridiculous to think—

"Do you want me to leave?" he cuts you off, his tone quiet. Only then, you realize you were speaking out loud.

It makes you falter. You take a moment to genuinely think about it.

"No, I don't" you admit, crumbling another cookie, keeping your eyes down for a moment. The silence is oppressive, exhausting. It keeps you on edge. "Did you believe me when I told you this was over?"

"Yes".

"Good".

On the third day in the clinic, Price tells you you're going home the next morning. It's so relieving to hear that you give him a hug, and then immediately freeze because Simon's in the room, staring at you, no mask. Johnny's right next to him, looking down at his feet and using his index finger to pick on his fingernails. They say nothing, only staring as you let go of Price and turn to Gaz, your shoulders relaxing completely.

Simon and Johnny share a look at your reaction, their jaws clenching hard enough to almost break their teeth, but they both remain silent.

You've grown used to their presence at this point, but as soon as Simon slips the mask back on, you have to look away. Perhaps the fear will always be there, even if you're half convinced he won't hurt you again. After a while, the two decide to leave so you can rest. Price leaves a few minutes later, promising to be there when you leave the next morning. Gaz is the only one who stays with you, as he has the past few days, but instead of him sleeping on the floor you two share the bed.

It's the last day, so why not?

He tells you a bit more about how he got certain scars, about how he plans on visiting you when he can so you can show him your house. You smile, nodding at the idea, just listening to him talk your ears off. It's comforting. You feel like you're in a sleepover with your friend, sharing gossip about other soldiers, and making fun of Price.

Your head is nested against his chest, your arms gently curled between the two of you as he holds you lazily, one of his hands caressing your hair. It's comforting and warm, and slowly, at some point, the idle gossip turns a bit more serious, finally reaching Simon and Johnny.

"You don't have to forgive them. Fuck them. I hope you remember that" he mumbles against your hair. You can hear the anger in his voice, and it makes you feel a little better. "Maybe you'll learn to understand why they had to do it, but that doesn't mean you have to be cool with it".

"And I'm not" you mumble back, shaking your head as you shift, looking up at him. "It's hard to just... look at them and not think of it. It happened like a week ago, anyway, so I can't be blamed. Right?"

"Fuck no. I'd say you give them hell a few months" he says, winking at you and nudging you slightly. It's enough to bring a smile to your face. You shift again, feeling restless, anxious.

"I don't know. I understand, I guess. I can't say I wouldn't have done the same in their position, but... I don't want to think about that right now".

"Of course" Gaz hums, his hand gently rubbing on your back. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.

It's warm, and it's nice. You melt into him, your eyes blinking lazily as you both lay in silence. Since Gaz has been taking care of you these past few days, you haven't been allowed more than two minutes of silence whenever he's in the room, so you treasure it.

Perhaps is the peace you're feeling, perhaps is the way he's holding you, but you can't help but look up at him. He's lost in his head for a long moment, looking up at the ceiling, before realizing you're staring at him. He raises an eyebrow, playfully poking your back.

"What do you want? Is there something on my face?" he asks, moving so he can look down at you properly, his eyebrows furrowing.

When he shifts, trying to get comfortable again, you surge forward.

It's only a brief, soft press of lips.

Gaz is silent when you pull back, his eyes worried, mostly surprised, but also deeply conflicted. His body is frozen, half lifted from the bed where he was changing his position. You feel shame deep in your stomach. Fear, maybe.

"I'm sorry. I'm really—"

He cuts you off.

It's a soft kiss. There's nothing but calm and affection in it. You're not sure for how long it goes, but it's only when he cradles your face, the kiss slowing down, that you realize you're crying. He hugs you closer, letting you cry into his chest, caressing your hair.

It takes a while for you to calm down, your hot face buried deep in his chest, embarrassed. Ashamed.

"Are you angry?"

"What? No. Why would I be?" Gaz asks, sounding genuinely confused.

"Because I kissed you?"

He hums, his hand never stopping where it's caressing your back. "No. I'm not mad. It was a good kiss." You groan, hitting him on the ribs with your elbow. He laughs, patting your back so you settle against him again. "Nothing bad with kissing your mates".

"Shut up!"

"Fine, fine. Well, look" he starts, shifting to turn the lamp on so he can look at you. "I think you needed that, and maybe I did too. I don't think I'm a replacement, either. Or am I?"

"No!" you shriek, your face heated.

"Then that's fine. Just kissing the mates goodnight".

"Garrick!"

"All I'm saying" Gaz says, grinning down at you and placing a hand on your head, "is that a kiss can just mean that. Did it feel good? It helped?"

You purse your lips, frowning. It did feel nice. It's not like it took away the trauma or anything, but it was nice. Your restlessness isn't there anymore. "Yeah".

"Then that's alright. Don't question it much".

"Should've asked. I'm sorry".

"It's cool. Just don't do it in front of the rest. They wanna kiss their mates, too, but they need alcohol for it".

"What? You'd be embarrassed?"

"No. You would be, though".

"Why? It's not like— ugh!"

Gaz playfully grips your face, not letting you move, and kisses your cheek loudly, making you laugh for the first time since you woke up. He manages to keep your good mood, not letting you dwell on whatever that kiss could've meant. At some point, you hear him snore softly, and decide to settle against him, focusing on his heartbeat.

Your feelings haven't changed for Gaz. You're deeply aware the kiss wasn't romantic. It's like... you're just closer, somehow. With a big sigh, you let your body relax, and fall asleep.

The next morning, it takes you around half an hour to be ready with the medics help. Johnny packed your things, now in the truck, and Simon's wearing the full black mask as he pushes your wheelchair.

Price can't make it, but you're not surprised. Gaz gives you a big hug for him, squishing your face against his chest. Johnny and Simon very carefully help you to the truck, never once touching your bare skin, never once meeting your eyes. You stay very still, but when Simon's hand gently rests on your waist to help you adjust, you look up at him.

"I'm sorry" he says, removing his hand instantly.

"It's alright" you mumble.

You both stay quiet for a moment. Then, Simon nods and slowly takes a step back. "Take care of yourself. I'll... text you?"

"I'll try to text back. Won't promise I will".

That seems to be enough. Simon's eyes warm behind the mask, filled with hope. He gently lifts a hand, his movements predictable and slow. Your shoulders tense a little, but you give him a nod, your eyes on his. He caresses your hair, drinking you in, endulging himself in the permission you give him. In the end, he steps out of the truck.

Johnny's eyes are filled with guilt, and he doesn't touch you, standing right there, just a step away from the door. "Take care, yeah?" he says, his hands gripping the seat in front of you.

"Yeah. Thanks" you mumble, your palms rubbing on your thighs. You feel uncomfortable around him, instead of actually scared. He hasn't tried to talk to you much at all, so it's a little confusing.

Finally, Gaz steps in and your smile becomes genuine.

"I'll see you as soon as I can" he says, his hands gripping your cheeks just to squish them together. "If you don't eat, I'll personally go and shove it down your throat".

"Lovely. Thanks" you grunt. You motion him closer, and press a kiss to his cheek. "That's for you. And tell Price that I'm thankful, all in all".

"No".

"Fuck you, Gaz".

"You wish".

You roll your eyes hard enough for it to hurt, but your smile is warm, content. With another tight hug, you say goodbye, and the engine rings in your ears.

Then, you're off.

-ˋˏ✄——————————————————

so! there's that. no, this isn't gaz x reader, im just heavily projecting and I think he's down to kiss the homies for fun and comfort, like I am.

simon going from simon to simon isn't a typo, she just hates him less. 😋

taglist: @euphoricn @lilg101010 @enfppuff @carolchaotic @silas-fanfic-favs @nina-from-317 @an-ever-angry-bi @kittygonap @dorothy-rainbird @adventurerabby @sheepispink @iambuttwodaysold @blackhawkfanatic @malevolentghoul @thriving-n-jiving @literallegendicon @echo9821 @angel-bugz @ssc7514 @defronix @clickbait-official (im adding this one very nervously so😭 I'm sorry)

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thee-horny-thicky · 2 months ago

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Okay hear me out. Gaz is a sucker for MILFs, Ghost likes his ladies sweet and thick, and Soap melts at the sight of a pretty smile. And Price, the lucky bastard, bagged a wife that had all their dream qualities.

You.

Ghost fell first. He'd known about you longer than anyone. When the Captain took him under his wing, you were by his side, feeding him without complaint, offering up the guest bedroom whenever he needed it, and applying a special balm to his scars whenever they bothered him. You made him feel cared for, sneaking your way into his traumatized heart.

However, if the ring on your finger wasn't enough to stop him, his loyalty to Price and his deep trauma did. And when you announced your first pregnancy, he knew his crush could never be actualized.

But damn if he didn't dream about it.

Soap and Gas found out about you by accident, years later when you needed an emergency C-section for your second child. Price dropped everything to be by your side, which obviously raised questions among his men. To say they were shocked when they found out was an understatement. As far as they knew, their Captain was single. Sure, he turned down anyone who hit on him whenever they went out to a pub, but they thought nothing of it.

Turns out, he was hiding a whole wife.

It was nothing against them. Long ago, Price flaunted you. Then, an enemy name dropped you, and he realized what a mistake that was. Thankfully, nothing came of it, but he knew luck only lasted so long. So, once he extinguished the bastard and his friends, he made sure to never speak of you at work or to his colleagues.

Soap and Gaz were a little peeved at first, yes, but their hurt feelings disappeared when they laid eyes on you. When they finally got to you, you'd awakened, and were holding your baby girl. You looked radiant, and when you aimed a gentle smile their way, they were goners.

Despite their attempts to hide their crushes, Price was an astute man. He was aware that his team was attracted to you, and didn't mind one bit. In his eyes, you were perfection, so it made sense why the lads would pine after you.

And maybe, just maybe, he got off on having a woman they fancied, of flaunting you as subtly as possible. And perhaps, just perhaps, he wasn't against the idea of his boys sampling you, under his supervision, of course.

Now, the only challenge was to convince you to get on board.

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xo2dee · 2 months ago

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USTULATION

DMC MASTERLIST

PAIRING: Vergil/(Fem)Reader. WARNINGS: MDNI/18+ ONLY. Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex (Fem Receiving), Cunnilingus, Spanking, Dirty Talk, Degradation, Rough Sex, Breeding Kink, Creampie, Sin Devil Trigger Sex, Monster Fucking. WORD COUNT: 9,569. SUMMARY: Honestly, you really should’ve expected your first time having sex with Vergil would end up like that.

A/N: my manifesto on how bad i wanna fuck vergil's sdt form.

You thought you had gotten your fair share of relationship advice from all of your snooping women family members and friends as you had grown up, and you were completely set when it came down to the romantic aspect of your life. Though nothing could’ve really prepared you for one of the only real and serious relationships you actually ended up in. Your mother and aunts had nothing on how to date a damn half-demon.

Or how to engage in sex with a half-demon.

On your behalf you figured it was just the same as having sex with a… human (it sounded so odd when you said it aloud), your half-demon looked like a ‘regular’ man – if you could count white hair, standing at six-foot-five, carrying around katana everywhere, and a stare that could make lesser strong-willed people piss themselves… Actually, you were completely wrong to think it was the same.

A relationship with Vergil was… interesting at times, but you were no quitter. Granted the two of yours relationship was ridiculously rocky at the beginning, but it came to a heads and you were later able to learn after jumping him and making out with him you two had been evidently pining for one and another so hard it made Dante sick and he’d been doing everything in his power to get you both laid and to stop eye-fucking each other every five minutes. Dante had been the one to warn you of getting into something like that with his elder brother, Nero almost looking traumatized when you had gotten around to telling him – “Hey, me and your dad? Yeah, we’re in a relationship, but we haven’t fucked yet so don’t worry.” – and told you maybe it was difficult to be with someone like him but sending you his best wishes otherwise. But of course, you were not a quitter.

Such as when you wanted to finally have sex with him, and when you finally did.

Perhaps you should’ve thought it through more; Vergil could lift a car with one hand and fling it more than one-hundred yards if he wanted to, he could rip a demon’s head off with one hand, kick a solid hole into a concrete wall, and not to mention all other demon abilities that he possessed. Such as what they called Devil Trigger. You had seen it before: a huge, blue, hulking beast full of scales, clawed nails, a long tail with the slicing tip, wings with a width span rivaling that of some sort of fairytale dragon, horns that executed a burn of blue fire (?), and the maw of sharp teeth that you had seen a handful of times whenever out on the field. However, you didn’t give it too much thought since you figured he only transformed during a fight and was always in control of it.

That was probably another case of poor judgement on your behalf.

Vergil was dominant through and through and practiced keeping himself composed above of all else, though at times it was you that was able to break that exterior and got him to loosen up – whether it was in the bedroom or not. At first you hadn’t been confident enough to push him like that, but when you were able to observe his eyes linger on your thighs if you wore any clothing exposing them, a vein rise from his temple that one time you wore that blue dress he liked with the slit up the leg and when you moved a certain way that revealed your panties, or when you had left the top three buttons undone of your shirt and watched his Adam’s apple bob with the deep swallow he made when you bent over in front of his face, it was enough to get you to try and get his attention to let him know you wanted him sexually as well as the way you already had him.

Vergil may have acted all stoic but the times you caught him just stripping out of nowhere in front of you and stretching a leg out until he could flex a thigh was enough to let you know the feeling was probably mutual. Often times he’d purposefully brush up against your back when you were in front of him, his hands drifting across your waist and trailing down your hips as he did so before ghosting away when you tried and lean back into his touch or turn around and look at him. He wanted you just as bad as you wanted him, though you had no idea why he would hold himself back.

More than often you found yourself on top of Vergil or underneath him as you both engaged in one of your many sessions of making-out and dry-humping, the trysts getting hot and heavy to the point you’d pull at his belt or snag a hand down the front of his pants in an unsaid beg for wanting him to just get inside of you once and for all. However it never ended up the way you wanted, Vergil would let out a hiss you had never really heard or knew he could do and roll away from you, chest heaving and nearly ripping the bedsheet apart from how hard he clutched it. Back then, you hadn’t known he was trying to control himself.

From what? Well…

Maybe you should have paid more attention to when his eyes would glow a haunting cat-like blue, or when you found shreds in your shirt from when his nails grew into talons, or that one time his tongue grew and slithered past your uvula in some form metaphorical oral sex as he made it thrust in, out and all around your mouth while it felt grooved. You were ashamed to admit that it made you cum from the feeling while you thought about how good it would feel eating you out as he did it.

Still, he never pushed it any further than foreplay and you would often go to bed with soaked underwear and him with an erection. Part of you thought he just didn’t want to, and another part of you had been afraid that from the way you gyrated your hips away on his erection and felt the size of him that you’d be unable to take him. But you were not a quitter and were horny beyond belief for him to just indent you into your mattress for once and all, and given how he’d grunt, groan and hiss into your mouth and skin, you knew the feeling was mutual.

So when the time came and you finally got him to actually fuck you and not just grind up on your clothed cunt or tease you with his fingers, nothing really prepared you for what happened. Looking back on it you found it funny, but in the heat of the moment you figured just why he would pull away from your dry-fucking moments.

(You knew a Devil Trigger could be caused by a state of heightened emotions… but not like Vergil had done during the first time you two had sex.)

In had started like that again, you two were alone at the shop again – you figured Vergil only engaged in intimacy like that when he knew Dante or Trish weren’t around to hear you both – and it was late at night while you two did your usual limbo. You couldn’t quite remember when he decided to say fuck it and push his cock inside of you. Maybe it was when you told him you were so wet that you were sure you could take all of him at once as he was two fingers deep in you, or when you struck his ego by saying if he couldn’t get you to cum like that he couldn’t get you to cum while actually inside of you as you rolled your soaked shorts up against his hard, clothed cock.

If you had to guess it was a mixture, the former being almost actual truth when he slid in with little to no resistance and the latter ticking him off so bad he tore shreds into your clothes while hissing at you in your ear and threatening to fuck you until you were begging for relief. Too bad for him that had been your plan.

That’s how you found yourself clutching the pillow underneath your head for dear life as Vergil’s cock was all but hitting your cervix while his hands had a near death grip on your hips in the process.

You shouldn’t have pushed his buttons, but damn, if that was what you got in return?

You’d keep doing it.

Your legs took purchase in one curling around his waist in attempts to hold on and the other hitched up on top of his shoulder, the ankle of the leg around his waist pressing into his skin and your heel against his lower back following in it as it curved and curled each time he fucked into you. The temperature in the room was boiling, perspiration lining your bodies down from the forehead to the conjunction of where both of your bodies were currently smacking into one and another. The only sounds you were really able to make out was the smacking of his skin into yours, the headboard of your shared bed knocking into the thinned wallpaper you desperately wanted to change, and your gasped out moans all jumbled in words varying of his name and praises from the ferocity of his movements.

Vergil’s face was probably a God-given sight to see; all flushed and his eyebrows knotted together in ecstasy as he kept his jaw clenched to keep his poorly concealed grunts in his mouth, but alas he kept his lovely expression nearly face down in the pillow you were clasping onto that your head rested on as well. It didn’t help you were talking filthy in his ear either, the loud exhales growling and the grip on your hips bruising every time you moaned out his name driving him forward push and stretch your insides as much as he could.

Unclutching the fabric of the pillow you slid your hands out to dig your nails into his back, earning you a grunt and a particular hard thrust as he pulled out back far enough until his tip was resting on your opening before diving back in. It was insane on how good he felt, your toes curling as that ball of fire behind your naval burned further towards your eventual release whenever he fucked into you harder.

There had been a time you thought ‘How the fuck did someone like him have a son?’, but from the way he was fucking you then… It wasn’t hard to see how it happened.

He was feral, unrestrained and – dare you say it – desperate.

You panted out again as your body rocked underneath his in unison to his hips, mouth finding his ear again to push at his resolve more, “If I would’ve known you – mmmGod – known you’d be like this, I would’ve – fuckrightthere – would’ve begged you more.”

…Was something pinching the skin of your hips?

You didn’t get to look and check when Vergil abruptly let go of your hips and let them land on the headboard above you two, his upper body moving slightly away from yours as the new position allowed him to pick up his speed. You let your eyes finally feast in looking up at his face, an electrifying tingle finding itself into your clit whenever his expression was just like you thought it would be. He looked like he was holding some poorly concealed agitation in, though you knew it was just a mix of his arousal and concentration. You didn’t know what he was so concentrated on, but if it was keeping him to literally rearrange your entire pelvic region… you were fine with it.

Vergil’s eyes fluttered open for a moment when you squeezed around him, a quick peek of his eyes showing you the icy grey you loved to look was bordering on a vivid azure with his pupils dilating back inwards and letting his irises take over. His lips pulled down in a deeper frown when he let a grunt slip by his lips, his pace growing harder and faster as if he wasn’t already balls deep in your pussy and slamming up into your innermost reach. A keening moan of his name caused his eyebrows to furrow greater and his jaw to clench harder as you jerked from the new sound from above you.

It was a scratching noise, almost like a cat was taking it’s claws onto a scratching post but instead it was on your headboard. You paused in your nearly drunken-stupor from clawing at his back in nicks that were already healing and your loud moaning to tilt your head backwards for a look, yet one of Vergil’s hands was quick to grab ahold of your chin and angle your head back towards him.

His eyes nearly made you want to shy away from how intense they were staring down into your own, the shining azure color taking them over and all but glowing in the moonlight shining down into your room. When your eyes shut and you tightened up around his cock once more, he squeezed your cheeks together and an amused huff fell out of him, “What’s the matter? You were so adamant in getting me inside of you, and now you’re suddenly shy?” a hum left him as he slowed to a mouthwatering roll and abruptly the air felt… static-like, his oddly rough hand falling from your face for two of his fingers to press down hard onto your clit.

The jolt of pleasure was nearly mind-numbing whenever the rough exterior of his fingers began to rub your swollen clit in intervals of up and down, back and forth, and sometimes rolling the area and pinching it between his fingertips. You were starting to squirm then because holy shit, why did his fingers feel so fucking rough but so good, and the way they were massaging your clit in swipes had you rolling your eyes back and mouth gaping from how fucking good it felt. There was slight angle of pain but it was quickly overwhelmed and mixed in with the pleasure he was giving you, the knot behind your naval just building, building, and building.

“OhmyGod, Vergil pleasegofaster,” you babbled out in-between the excessive amount of moans and whines as your hands made way to scrape at his chest.

Vergil bent lower, a low groan slipping out again whenever the angle pushed his cock deeper into your warmth and you could’ve swore his own eyes spun back a fraction, until his face was close for his lips to close around one of your nipples. Him biting and sucking at your breasts was one thing, but feeling that fucking ribbed tongue swirling around the expanse of your areola and the highest point of your nipple – oh Jesus fuck why was he so good at it? You didn’t care nor give it any thought that the man was slowly changing right before your very eyes, your frontal lobe only focusing on the slope you were sliding down for your orgasm and just Vergil, Vergil, Vergil.

The mantra in your mind was repeated past your tongue as he bit at your tit one last time and then that sinful tongue was sliding up past your chest, over your throat, along your jaw, before his mouth found way for your ear again. His teeth felt sharper than normal as he took your earlobe between them until he decided to latch off and bless you with his voice that was slowly beginning to lose its composure.

“Are you begging now? How indecent of you, it’s almost pathetic how desperate you sound.”

…Why did his voice sound like that? It was a near sort of echo, the underlining of his usual nasally voice was there but it was twinged with something else that you couldn’t put your finger on. It felt like that static ambience still wrapped around you two, though he almost sounded… like not himself, but still was him.

Whatever it was it twisted around into your bones and muscles, turning the former into mush and the latter tensing as it vibrated your body from the top of your head sliding down your spine until your toes were curling again over the respective parts of his body. You were nearly ashamed at how much you liked it when he spoke to you like that, the fact in that matter not lost on him when you reared up back at it and clenched around his throbbing cock once more as your sense of reasoning began to slowly fall from you.

You weren’t about to let him off the hook for verbal assault, not when you could feel how hot he was growing inside of you and how his dick was beginning to swell almost as if it was growing from your actions. Not only that, you mused as you intertwined your fingers into his deliberately falling hair, the noises he was making that nearly had you cumming on the spot were enough to let you know he wasn’t as reserved as he was letting himself out to be.

You jerked his head back so that his face was level with yours and both of lips were skimming across each other, relishing in the harsh thrust from the action and when his fingers rolling your clit fell off for a brief moment as a hiss pushed past his plumped lips, “You’re one to talk since you can barely keep it together,” you arched your back to push him as deep as you could and watched his nostrils flare when your cunt seemed to swallow him whole, “I know you wanna let loose, so why don’t you?”

Vergil’s expression scrunched up in a full-blown scowl then, his hip bones slamming into yours faster and harder as you heard…a growl leave his chest, “Stop talking.”

His fingers on your clit sped up after that, the movements of the rubbing matching your poor excuse of grinding to keep up with him and the scratching noise above you picking back up again. Your thigh was burning from the stretch of your leg over his shoulder, but the blurring line between pain and pleasure was long gone since you were gradually beginning to lose all hold you had on holding back from cumming. He was getting tough in letting his cock kiss that sensitive region inside of you, pulling his cockhead all the way out of you and delivering a harsh push back to hit as far as he could. Each push and pull had you reeling, eyes rolling back and broken moans leaving you as you struggled to keep up and form a coherent sentence to drive back at him.

You weren’t finished egging him on, you wanted him to fulfill that threat (promise?) he had said before.

Your fingers were slowly losing the grip they had on his hair as your body bounced and slid up on the bed underneath his body, “I know this issss’t all you can do, I wanna feel it,” a high-pitched gasp left you when his fingers pinched your clit, “don’tdothat, I’mgonnacum – I want you to cum inside of me –”

“Don’t.”

“Vergil please, you have me already. I wanna feel you. I want it all.” Your head was getting fuzzy, the stretch in your lower abdomen pulling to its full extent as his cock grew hotter and began throbbing longer pulsing into your cunt. You wanted it so bad, you wanted him so bad and you were clawing more at his chest as that coil began to unravel.

Vergil rose up away from you onto his knees, your leg on his shoulder falling off to land uselessly onto the mattress as you watched in pleasure-filled vision his head tilt backwards and his Adam’s apple bob from the bitter swallow he took. His hand on the headboard fell to curl up underneath your lower back to push your hips upwards off the bed to dig deeper into you, his fingers moving faster as his chest started to heave. The new angle left you breathless as his thick shaft began to feel as if it was ramming its way into your intestines, another round of babbles and mewls leaving you when his hips pushed desperately into your body.

His thumb was digging itself into your lower spine as he grunted out his next words, no doubt a bruise going to be left behind, “Damn you. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

A warning was going off in the back of your mind, a strong shift in the air as Vergil’s breathing grew louder, combining with a hissing that was bordering on sounding like one of the demons you hunted had gotten into your bedroom. Maybe you should’ve paid attention to the scales beginning to form up on his arm and start to take over the left side of his face, and maybe you should’ve noticed the twinkling blue sparks beginning to fleck off and around him. But you were too focused on what he was doing to you too care, but fuck you were just right there and you were about to cum because his fingers combined with the sheer size of his cock alone were spiraling you into your personal haven and God just right there, right there, rightthererightthererightthere –

You made one last ditch effort to push at him as a long-winding moan of his name bubbled from you, your hands fisting into the sheets and nearly ripping them as Vergil was on the cusp of losing control, “I can take it, please, jus’ do what you said you were gonna do earlier.”

That got his attention, his fingers pausing their wrath on your clit as his shoulders tensed; he knew what you were talking about. “Be quiet,” his tone sounded cold, but the steady rhythm of his thrusting and his fingers rolling vigorously on you was enough to let you know you almost had him.

And he almost had you cumming all over his dick as the last of your resolve was pushed out in a hair-raising moan and some fast chattering to finally feel him once and for all, “God just fuck me, Vergil. Fuck me so hard I’m begging for relief from you from how much you fill me up ohholyfuck –”

Your sentence trailed off as a snarling groan took over the sound in the room and his pace kicked into a destructive speed, a distorted curse spitting off his tongue as something popped and a shuttering noise flew into your ears while the inside of you felt briefly stunned from the action. After that, your body was suddenly uncoiling itself in the throes of your orgasm with a gasping whine of his name.

Your cunt constricted around his cock in a poor effort to hold on, but the action had you spasming in one of the most intense orgasms you had ever experienced. The others paled in comparison from those late nights fingering yourself at the thought of him, your body feeling electrified from the intensity of it and your limbs jerking to find any part of his body to hold on to as you rushed through it. You didn’t know why your cunt and his dick felt like they were buzzing and vibrating from the release, but the heightened stimulation had you squirming throwing your head back onto the pillow with a gaping mouth and eyes spinning into your mind while the hairs on your body rose from the change in the atmosphere. You were well aware you had gushed all over his cock as your legs jerked from the pleasure, and in the back of your mind you were only vaguely aware that something about him shifted.

Something as in his entire appearance.

The static was back as it curled itself around your body and left you feeling frazzled and your limbs exhausted, and you were only densely conscious enough to realize that the skin you had curled your one leg around didn’t feel like skin any longer. Your chest was heaving as you felt a new wave of sweat line up on your forehead and down your pelvis, fingers bunching up the sheets as you tried to slow your breathing and heart rate down, and a warped, huffing mixed sound of growling rolled out above you. Your bedroom felt hotter than before and after a few moments of blinking back into clarity, you rose your head to look back at Vergil to see why he hadn’t made any noise or indication of cumming –

You froze.

Gone was the gorgeous, ivory-colored skin, icy grey eyes, and silver-white hair, instead in its place was that hulking beast you had only seen a handful of times. You traced your eyes towards where you two were still conjoined, over the glowing ‘V’ on his chest, and finally up towards his face where you were only able to make out that luminescent blue where his eyes were supposed to be. Had he –

He.. triggered instead.. of cumming? You didn’t know whether to feel proud or suffer a blow to your ego over that.

You stared at him, blinking a couple of times.

Vergil… stared back – you think anyway – and you weren’t entirely too sure if he could even blink in that form.

You swallowed after a few moments and let your already hoarse voice break the silence, “Vergil, what… Are you – I mean,” you wiggled for a brief second as his newly-formed, scaled hand came to press down onto your lower abdomen to cease any other movement from you, “Did you mean to do this or…?”

The noise he made nearly sounded like a chuff tigers made, a movement from his backside letting you see his tail whip up into the air before it slithered up around your thigh next to his jutted hip. You watched curiously as the scaled appendage curled around said part, the bladed tip of it knocking against your skin in an action that was bizarrely reminiscent of cat slowly tapping the tip of its tail onto a surface. Vergil still hadn’t spoke, which you knew he was able to in that form, and you had half a mind to just ask if he went into some type of demonic state where he was more Devil than man (more than just his appearance, mind you).

However you knew better than that, Vergil was still Vergil in that manner and his standing still action with him remaining inside of you not making a single movement was a key factor that he was being precautious. You supposed you weren’t really thinking too hard whenever you were egging him to finally give in and let loose, but you always didn’t think it would end up with just… triggering.

Nevertheless… it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, it was still Vergil; especially since you were pretty fucking sure he had grown bigger inside of you.

You got your answer when you shifted again and okay, yeah, he was just as big and hulking as his new form as he was down there, and Jesus fuck you were pretty sure he was in your stomach then. Letting out a winding exhale you gripped at his wrist onto your lower abdomen when what you guessed was his cockhead angled upwards inside of you, “Vergil, just –” the weight from his hand pressed down harder and your eyes crossed when a new shock of ecstasy fluttered inside of you. God, you felt fucking stuffed, but the new tingling in your clit was something you couldn’t ignore and since you felt not one essence of his cum inside of you… You waved your other hand in the air.

“Just – just keep going, it’s fine.” You sounded so out of breath, but it was to be expected when you had his literal fat monster cock in you. “I mean, always up for new things right?” ‘Up for new things’, this was the first time you two were having sex.

(Though you didn’t think it could’ve qualified as ‘sex’, what you two ended up doing was just straight nasty fucking after months of piled up sexual tension and frustration. Perhaps not the smartest decision to do it in his Devil Trigger, but hey, first time for everything.)

After all, if you were going to commit to liking someone with a dual form like that then you were going to have to buckle down into the possible monster fucking because if you didn’t… did you even love them?

Vergil, more or less, above you seemed at a fork in the road but when he pushed his hips forward and watched your face wince up from the expanding stretch and felt your pussy tighten at a near painful degree he knew was for you, he was pulling out. A high-pitched, indignant noise left you at his loss and the sting from which he pulled himself from so abruptly, and he was quick to snag your ankle of the leg that wasn’t currently wounded by his tail when you tried to coercer him back to you. You paid no mind that perhaps he was completely coated in your cum and that his cock was not the same one you saw earlier – sans human skin and instead something probably a little more rigid and dangerous-looking and blue – but you really didn’t mind once more since you were fighting a fire for more stimulation.

You didn’t have to wait long either for it, Vergil finally broke out of his silence as a claw-tipped finger tapped onto your ankle bone and his voice was that same distortion from before that sent vibrations throughout the bed and you.

“I’ll have another, then after that I’ll have my way with you.”

Another? “What do you mean another – ACK –” you didn’t get to finish that question when Vergil used the hold he had on you to swiftly flip your body over, a yelp falling out of your mouth when he gripped your hips and positioned you in the way he wanted you. Said position was on your hands and knees with his tail holding your thigh lifting your one leg into the air slightly as a hand came up under you to splay over your lower abdomen to keep you balanced. Your fingers gripped into your sheets hard as the other clawed hand was clutching the thigh not currently suspended into the air and you felt a humid waft of air from his maw blow over your horribly exposed pussy. Your cheeks warmed as you realized the gravity of the situation.

Was he going to –

“For now, I’ll have a taste of what your dripping with.”

You didn’t get a chance to answer to that sinful statement, as for Vergil’s serpentine tongue was already slithering out of his jaws and taking one slow lick up your soaked folds. You were ashamed when your one leg placed onto the bed already starting shaking from it the action, though you couldn’t blame yourself too much since you were still sensitive from cumming mere minutes beforehand and that Vergil’s tongue was of that same ribbed exterior that day you felt him in your mouth. It felt like… God, you didn’t even know, but God it felt good. A shaky exhale left you as the grip on your thigh left to press down onto your lower back, the weight causing you to fall onto your elbows for the position to expose yourself more to his greedy tongue.

Vergil wasn’t one the beat around the bush you learned once he really set his mind to something, and that something at that time was eating your pussy out. If you had to explain it, it was as if your brain all but fried when the grooved tip on his tongue spread and pushed through your folds until the length of the appendage was wiggling up inside of your cunt and whatthefuck –

“Vergil, holy shit, your tongue –” you whimpered out the rest of your mumble as you leant down to pressed your face into your sheets.

The only answer you got was a hot exhale combined with a rumbling growl, his hands on your respective areas sluggishly beginning to rock you back and forth on his tongue. The noise that left you was something out of a hardcore porno, your sweaty forehead digging into the mattress as you felt each grooved lining on his organ run up against your walls and urging you to swing your hips back and forth, to and from his face. You did just that, moans and whines of all caliber falling desperately as you rolled yourself in intervals to get a feel for every dip and dart of his tongue against your soft insides.

You were already well on your way to falling for another orgasm when you started to push back against his face harder, your toes curling as he hitched your leg higher and a grunt escaping when you decided to clench and unclench around his tongue as much as you could. He picked up the pace in his swirling to taste every inch of your cunt and coat your walls with as much of his saliva as he could while he licked up the expanse of you. The knot behind your naval then felt heavier, your back arching further inwards as his grunts and growls kept up with your own moans and pants.

“Fuck, just like that. Keep go-going,” you paused as your knee on the bed started to shake more with the intensity building back up inside your cunt and your clit feeling pressurized even though nothing was arousing it that time, his tongue slithering up and inside your leaking cunt enough to push you towards your release. “It feels so good please… I’m gonna cum again.”

The response you got was a louder, eager grumble from deep within his chest, the claws he sported slightly pricking your flesh as the fleeting pinch of pain only added on to you doubling down into your orgasm. His tail coiled around your thigh tighter and the slicing tip was wriggling out into the air next to your skin, his eagerness showing his in subtle actions to get you to come on his tongue that time. And fuck, if you had spilled out all in your panties whenever he swiped that slick organ around your mouth and down your throat as he rocked his boner into you nearly a week ago, you would have no problem doing it for him then.

The force in which your hips were rocking back into his face was bordering on desperate as you were nearing your peak, your cunt already beginning spasm while he continued to literally tongue-fuck you. The hot huffs from his open maw grew louder and faster against your ass, the pulsing hums he was letting roll off his slick appendage vibrating the inside of you as you desperately clawed at the sheets while your back arched dangerously. You squealed and whined whenever his tongue slipped out of you for a brief moment to run the fat of it along the entire outer parts your pussy, starting with the tip teasing your clit in fast nudges, and the brute of it flattening itself along your folds to catch the fluids so keenly dripping out of your gaping opening.

When Vergil darted back inside your drenched cunt to swipe at your innermost wall faster and harder before, you were all but done. “Vergil!” was your last keening cry as his hand on your lower abdomen pushed up further into your guts, the coil holding your second release together snapping while he continued to tongue-fuck you through the entirety of your orgasm.

That time around your eyes crossed as your vision busted into a different world of colors, your pussy canal nearly acting like a bottle of wine losing its cork as you squirted out and around his tongue. A white-hot tingle shot from your cranial nerve down into your toes had you jerking and squirming about as your cunt trembled and clenched around his tongue for retribution. You didn’t mind too much you had embarrassingly squirted into his face, the evidence of so slipping past his mouth and dribbling onto the sheets next to your quivering knee as you fought to keep balance from the mind-blowing orgasm. Vergil didn’t mind at all, the groan leaving him downright sinful as he let his tongue slip out and wipe up any excess of your cum and fluid that had passed by his mouth. You were thankful for his hands still on your body holding you up and his tail began slowly lowering your other leg back onto the bed as he finished his licking to clean you up while your body shook and you fought back through clarity of from cumming so hard.

A sigh left you when you felt him pull away from your cunt, the body part throbbing excessively and so goddamn sensitive you were sure a single touch would have you reeling back into pleasure once more. It was hot and everything smelled like him as you tried to catch your breath through heaving once more, however your knees were beginning to slide outwards as your nerves were too wired to keep yourself together. You would’ve fallen down onto the bed if he hadn’t caught you by the hips while he angled you back upwards into the way he liked. His tail unfurled from your thigh, though the accessory wriggled around underneath where your abdomen was in slow strokes afterwards as its tip grazed along past your breasts and along your naval making you shudder.

It seemed he wasn’t about to waste any more time, his cock heavy with the need to just finally cum and have you the way he wanted.

Vergil didn’t give any warning that he was ready shove his cock back in you, the only way you knew from your position was when his bulked, scaled pelvis knocked into your ass and another loud exhale of hot air blew across your back. Granted he was slow as he eased into you, but that didn’t stop you from gasping at how fucking far he was stretching your insides that time by just only a few inches of him and your body was involuntarily sliding up forward away from him. The sheer sting was the cause of that reaction, as it nearly felt like his dick was expanding your pelvic bones entirely to accommodate room for him.

“Stay,” was the only word grumbled out from him at first, a hand skimming down your spine in an unspoken word of comfort. He let you wiggle around for a few moments until a long breath left you as you loosened up, and then he was sliding himself back all the way in, relishing in the way you immediately moaned and tightened up around him at the easy entrance. “So wet, so easy; almost like you were just made for this. Are you so desperate to please me that you’ll let me use you as I want?”

His words alone had you moaning again, the mere tone of them and the hissing edge they held letting you grip up harder on him and rock back into his hips, “Don’t act so high and mighty, earlier you were fighting to not lose control and now look at you.” Yeah you said in a fight to bite back at his words, but God if you didn’t feel like telling him to outright fuck you into the mattress or just fuck yourself back onto him because his dick was sitting fat and heavy inside of you and you desperately wanted to just move to let you feel the full brute of him rearranging your guts.

You knew you shouldn’t have pushed a feral Vergil, especially since earlier you had proclaimed you wanted him to fuck you until you were begging for relief and full of his cum because…

Fuck you he did.

You heard another snarling grunt from behind you, his hands tightening on your hips as he almost lethargically pulled his shaft out until his cockhead was kissing your folds and then with one quick snap he was seated back inside of you and setting himself in a maddening, torturous pace.

You had managed a choked moan from that, your breath being knocked out of you as you bounced back and forth from his steady, deep, somewhat slow movements as your ass smacked against his hardened, jutted hip bones. The noise of both of your bodies was incredibly obscene when you combined the sound your backside harshly slapping into his pelvis, while you could hear the squish of your pussy overwhelmed with your cum and fluids every time he pulled back far enough and diving back in.

It wasn’t enough though, the deep dives were gut-wrenching and had you gasping more than moaning but you knew it was his own form of punishment against you for your bratty behavior.

From the ferocity of his thrusts jolting your body, your words began to line in tune with each time he pushed into you and pulled out, “God Vergil – you’re – driving me – insane! Oh fuck… c’mon – fuck me – harder.”

His hand came down and smacked onto your ass, something he had never done before in the months you had been together, and you yelped from the sting as you fell back down onto your elbows. He kept one hand digging into your hip but the other was pushing your back farther into an arch for his cock to hit a new angle that almost made you drool. Once he got you there it was another deliberate pull out and snapping back into you as his hand glided around the press onto your lower abdomen –

OH.

Fuck.

Was that even possible? Shit, who cares it feels so good. So good that Vergil was groaning in a hiss as you squeezed him whenever you felt him bulge through the lower part of your body. His slick, hot tongue was lapping up your spine in a tease to taste the sweat lining your back before you felt him lower down near your ear to speak again.

“Tell me again what you want.”

Bastard. Though as he said that, he was literally beginning to give you what you really wanted.

Gone was the sluggish, deep strokes, in their place a faster speed making you bounce faster as he leant back up away from you. Your eyes fluttered shut when you felt another orgasm on the brink, your brain nearly blocking out what he had whispered into your ear as you started to just focus on the pleasure you were receiving. However, your lover wasn’t so merciful to let you off the hook.

Vergil’s hand came back down to slap at your ass again as you moaned from the newfound stimulation it gave, “Answer me, brat.”

Your eyes rolled back as you tried to buck your hips to fuck back into him, your nails beginning to claw into the sheets below you, “I – Mmm, I want –”

His tail was sliding up one of your thighs again, “What want? Speak clearly.”

His cock was hard and hot in you, “Shit – Vergil, please.”

His pace picked up, the headboard of the bed knocking obscenely loud into the wall rough enough to crack it, “Begging now? You should see yourself crying out for me like some whore,” the mattress shifted and in your peripheral vision you could see one of his clawed raptor-looking feet you usually laughed at come to balance himself on it, and then his tail was sliding up around your back, “You’re maddening.” His voice was teetering onto a fine, sharp edge, the movements of his ferocious thrusting becoming jagged as his resolve seemed to turn on him and you knew then he was getting close to cumming.

However because of Vergil’s newfound realization he was heading towards his own end, he found a means to better fuck you, or to better use you for both of your enjoyment.

His tail wrapped around your abdomen.

Your first instinct was to grab ahold of the accessory with one of your hands, a gasp falling out of you from how he coiled it around tight enough to keep you where he wanted you but not enough to hurt you. Your second instinct was to arch harder and then your third was to –

You didn’t give it much thought, because Vergil had decided to go from fucking you to using his tail to pull your body back and forth onto his cock in hurried movements, and –

“OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod,” you chanted out in a mewl of a babble, both of your hands gripping to the scaled appendage wrapped around you as it kept you in the position he wanted. Your brain was surely mush then, your cunt unclenching and clenching in a hasty fashion as the new pace and angle crossed your eyes and careened you down further into cumming all over his cock again.

Your cheek found itself pushed into your bed as he pressed you down further with a rough palm, his distorted voice then sounded more choked up and losing its composure, “You like this, don’t you? Being used like this by a demon?”

All of your sense and reasoning was out of the window, another harsh moan leaving you as you listened to him speak, “Mmmm, I love it!”

Vergil’s hold on your hips grew to bruising as he started to fuck back into your bouncing body while continuing to use his tail as leverage to pull you into him, an air of desperation about him while more grunts left him, “If you love it so much, tell me what you want me to do.”

You were about to cum, his dick stretching you out so much and slamming into practically your cervix as your nerves lit up and any discomfort from the rough treatment exploded into full-blown pleasure. He continued to hit that one spot that had you keening and your teeth biting into the sheet as well, hissing as your sounds grew louder and your pussy impossibly wet and tighter. He knew you were about to cum, and with that knowledge a rough fingertip was grazing across your swollen clit in a means to get you to finally unravel and screaming to him of what you wanted.

“Say it.”

The reaction was instantaneous, your muscles bunching up, eyes watering as the pressure in your cunt grew tenfold, his rough movements, and your rapidly approaching orgasm let the words flow freely from your mouth.

“Vergil, please, I want you to cum in me! Just –” a louder whine fell out of you when he pushed you down in retaliation for more of your pleas, struggling to take his hard thrusts as you finally felt yourself let go and felt your cunt gush and squeeze one last time as you rambled the rest of your begs in a high-pitched cry.

“More.”

“I’m yours, Vergil! Fuck me full of your cum… Mmf, breed me, Vergil!"

The answering snarl was devastating, his tail heaving you upwards onto your knees for your back to press against his scalding front side as his tongue slid back out of his mouth licking up the expanse of your throat until it found itself into your mouth. You eagerly accepted the crude mean as a replacement for a kiss, your eyes rolling back into your head as you sucked around the appendage and your hips sporadically jerked into his still thrusting cock as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm. It was the same as before with your vision bursting into colors behind your eyelids and your frontal lobe feebly chasing that emotion of endorphins released into your veins as you came undone in front of him for the third time that night.

Your third release left you feeling spent and exhausted, legs quivering in their place as your moans fell into huffing noises with your body falling back onto the bed as Vergil hissed, snarled and groaned his way to finally giving you both what you asked for. The gush of air and new shadow expanding behind told you that his wings had unfurled, the last of his composure leaving him whenever he pushed back into you with a ferocious jab that cracked the wall above your bed and a long-uttering satisfied groan vibrated the entire room.

Your eyes spun back when you felt the warm spurts of his cum shoot inside of your awaiting cunt and literally stuff you full as a feeling of mild electrification prickled the hair on your body. It nearly felt as if he never was going to stop, the new heat in your pussy sliding down throughout the inside of you. You could feel the thick girth of the liquid passing through your cervix and into your womb as Vergil’s hips rocked slowly with each new spray into you until finally he came to a full stop with his cock sitting snugly inside of you to hold all of his cum in your cunt for the time being. His fingers flexed as they returned to both grasping your hips with a hissing exhale that you felt deep into your stomach, and meanwhile you tried to force your mind and body to leave that fucking high and try to at least find yourself into some clarity from probably the best fucking and orgasms you had ever felt.

It was a few moments of catching your breath and letting your heart calm down on both ends when Vergil slowly started to slide out of you, the full feeling in your lower abdomen leaving you like air slowly being let out of a balloon until his cockhead was kissing your folds. Vaguely you were aware of your cunt clenching and throbbing around nothing for the loss of him, your opening gaping as you felt the remains of what he fucked into you start to ooze out until he was pushing his dick back in with a slow roll to fuck his cum back into you. You whimpered as you clutched the sheets again, your insides entirely too sensitive and used for any other stimulation for that time while he continued until he was sure you were, indeed, fucked full.

“Easy.” Yeah okay, it was easy for him to say that since he was the one that didn’t get their pelvic region bottomed out.

Vergil granted you that break finally, his cock along with the whole of his body leaving after he was satisfied with his work. His tail unfurled from around you and the loss of what was the only thing that was holding you up on your useless legs caused you to almost fall into the mattress completely if it wasn’t for his arm wrapping up under your breasts to hold until you both fell onto the bed together.

His human arm.

That static in the air was gone, the feeling of like you were on the cusp of being shocked gone while the heat in the room began to dissipate into the normal temperature of the shop. The back of your head found a spot onto his shoulder while your legs entwined with one and another’s as you continued still to calm your heaving down while Vergil’s thumb stroked a gentle pass on your sternum. His breathing seemed to notch back down after he left his triggered form and buried his nose into your hair, but the deep inhales and exhales were signs he was too still suffering from the aftermath.

Briefly, you wondered when the last time he had sex was. Then you decided that from his feral behavior: a long time ago.

“Your pulse is still racing,” he spoke after a while of you both staring up at the dark ceiling, voice slightly croaky and out of breath.

Gee, I wonder why. You threw up a hand and let it fall onto his chest in a gentle tap, “Well I mean, I did just get the shit fucked out of me. And I think you literally might’ve shifted the bones in my pelvis and hips around.”

The back of his hand came up to wipe at the sweat on your forehead, “…I apologize if I caused you any discomfort,” he mumbled into your hair, almost so quietly that you nearly missed it.

The first thing you said was a tease, “Vergil? Apologizing? If pussy gets you like this then we should’ve done this sooner.”

He pinched your nipple.

You squealed and wiggled against him until he let up, his hand returning to sit at your sternum, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry!”

“Brat.”

You sighed as you really thought about his words; was he honestly thinking you might’ve not liked it after you begged him for it? Sure you probably would be bowlegged the next day, and yeah he literally cracked the wall and nearly broke the headboard and clawed the Hell out of it, and okay maybe you would have some little bruises on your hips where he held you, but he was being foolish to think you didn’t want it. You had wanted him physically like that for a long time aside to having him emotionally and mentally, and it was even better than you imagined for a man who looked like he’d rather eat dirt than have any physical contact with people.

It’s always the quiet ones.

You didn’t like it, you loved it.

“You didn’t hurt me, at least not in the way I might’ve wanted,” you eventually answered, feeling an amused huff blew into your hair. He didn’t answer you after that, the silence stretching between you two as you finally calmed down enough and came to your senses – your senses being bothering him as much as you could. His face was still buried into your hair whenever your usual annoying antics came back as you both basked in that post-coital bliss.

“I have a serious question.”

Vergil only grunted.

“Soo, I noticed before that when you triggered before that you couldn’t actually see your dick in that form. Does it, y’know, have its own little sheathe?” ‘Little’ was probably an understatement.

He was still for a few moments until you felt the bed shift and his body move away until you were given sight to him leaning up over you and staring down at you with the blankest face you had ever seen on the man. Vergil’s hair had fallen from its usual slicked back fashion, a feat you only got to saw when he slept for the night and when it was wet, and the silver of his eyes were barely visible through the white-grey strands but you could still feel the brute of his piercing stare.

Vergil only stared down at you.

“I’m being serious, but if you don’t wanna answer you don’t have to. Probably a sensitive topic since you can’t literally cockfight Dante in that form like you two normally do.”

You watched his eyes narrow.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s true.”

Evidently he had enough of your little prattle, his body moving way too swiftly for someone that just had sex so roughly as he rolled himself on top and pinched both of your cheeks between his fingers.

“You have no filter, do you? You just spout whatever comes to mind that you can use to demean me in your own childish way.”

“Mmmsorry, ow!”

His hips wormed their way in-between your thighs once more, your lower abdomen curling at the feeling, “Perhaps I should find better ways to keep your mouth occupied.”

“Is that a dig at wanting a blowjob?”

A hum left him and you jolted when you felt the press of his cock against your clit, a pleading gasp falling from your squished cheeks as you bucked against him, “Not exactly, I quite like it when you’re begging.”

He wasn’t… Already?! “Again?”

Vergil’s hands left your face and one was already curling around your thigh to hitch it around his hip as the other balanced onto the mattress next to you, one of his rare, devilish smirks on his face as he watched you grow flustered, “Again.”

A gasp mixed together with a moan fell out of you when he slid back inside of your still warm and wet cunt with absolutely no problems, your hands coming up to clutch at his forearms as he started off into a slow grind for the second round. Another hum rumbled deep from within his chest as he bent down and languidly kissed you when you started to sigh from the gentle movements, only breaking off the lip lock to mumble his new resolve against your mouth.

“After all, weren’t you the one that said you wanted yourself full of me until you were begging for relief?”

Honestly, you really should’ve expected your first time having sex with Vergil would end up like that.

#{🩸} nee fics #vergil x reader #vergil x you #vergil x y/n #vergil dmc #vergil devil may cry #vergil #dmc #vergil smut #dmc x reader #devil may cry #dmc smut

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sentientsnakeskin · 5 months ago

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Everyone always gets on yellowjackets for being fucking weird with the number of background characters and changing actresses and lacking depth for a lot of said background character and everything all the time but thats the point!!! That’s the point of it!!! All the surviving Yellowjackets are unreliable narrators!!! Most if not all of the surviving Yellowjackets have mental conditions and if they don’t they sure as hell have endless trauma. The flashbacks are being told by them, 25 years later, when they have spent all that time trying to hide and deny everything that happened and everything that occurred and all of it is messed up. They don’t want to remember it all, they don’t want to remember their dead teammates. Sometimes it’s impossible to tell which characters are flashing back to which segments. Sometimes characters are inexplicably absent. Sometimes some people remember more than others. Sometimes random characters appear who have been absent all this time. Like, Crystal appeared as a character out of the blue when Misty was feeling abandoned by Nat and was remembering her first best friend. Characters are recast because who can even remember what those girls looked like anymore. The consistent characters are the ones no one can forget. The first ones. Who is gonna forget Laura Lee? Jackie? Javi? No one. But who is gonna remember girl #3 that you killed and ate when you went insane in the wilderness? No one. Or maybe you don’t want to remember. Maybe by girl #3 you try and forget everything. You stifle all feelings and memories until you remember maybe she had brown hair, oh i think i remember her gathering herbs once, oh i think she had this hat she liked to wear, oh maybe she was around during this event or maybe she was already dead and gone and buried and eaten. Maybe maybe maybe. You don’t know. You never know. Because thats what trauma does it eats away at the brain until all you have left to tell your story is faulty memories and a heart full of grief. And i think it just got worse once Shauna burned her journals and left everything into pure memory. Even those were unreliable because Shauna was suffering from day one and it only got worse after Jackie. Nothing is gonna be consistent about a story told 25 years after the events by people so traumatized they can barely remember it themselves.

#yellowjackets #van palmer #shauna shipman #misty quigley #natalie scatorccio #jackie taylor #taissa turner #lottie matthews #yellowjackets tv #yellowjackets text posts #yellowjackets thoughts 💭

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headspace-hotel · 4 days ago

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i spent like 5 hours deep diving into the blog of some guy who self identifies as a "rationalist" and looking at the array of opinions/ideas being expressed on the blog and in the comments

made me think about how "the left" is actually really, really homogeneous in terms of beliefs that are acceptable to express and discuss, whereas with "centrist" and "the right" you see written out the internal variety and incoherence that I think characterizes most peoples beliefs and ideas

i forgot the name of the blog, i'll find it again later. basically the guy self identifies as "anti-woke" at the same time as being progressive on some aspects of society, "centrist" on others, and...definitely not fascist but kind of "reddit evo-psych" on a few, pursuing a general open-minded approach to things.

it definitely made a few things click for me in terms of right wing stereotypes of "leftists" and concern with "cancel culture." At one point he discusses his experience being ""cancelled"" for a comment that got misunderstood, and from the description, the harassment, threats of harm and isolation that ensued were genuinely traumatic.

It honestly reminded me of my experiences on Tumblr, where since I was 18 I've been writing posts about whatever I happen to be learning or thinking about at the time--- some of which were ignorant or poorly worded or offensive--- and getting hate for it.

Before I turned off asks completely and sort of walled myself off from engaging in discussions with people, I got messages constantly telling me to kill myself, or that the world would be a better place if I was dead, or that [speaker] hoped I would die, or that I was virtually every kind of bigot you could imagine, and at least some number of political bloggers on here nursed enough of a long-term hatred of me that I actively came to mind as someone they despised.

This was in fact distressing, especially the fact that I could never predict what kind of post would elicit this reaction and nothing I did would make it stop.

It's easy to dismiss this as just, like, the typical online experience, and I dismissed it myself like "yeah yeah who hasn't gotten a bunch of suicide bait for making a poorly worded joke"...but it really shouldn't be. It occurs to me now that normalizing receiving harassment also normalizes participating in it. And if my real life face and name were attached to this account, that kind of harassment would be fucking terrifying.

It also occurs to me that "the right" despite having an incomprehensible array of beliefs on non-essentials, are not constantly acting like they want to kill each other with hammers.

Jack Posobiec's Unhumans, despite being a work of fascist garbage, had a gleam of genuine insight in it: when suggesting strategies for countering the "left," it mostly recommended not directly engaging and instead waiting for the left to rip itself apart internally. It seems like multiple right-wing writers and bloggers have suggested walking back the criticisms of "cancel culture" simply because leftists harm other leftists much more with "cancel culture" than they do their actual political enemies.

I'm thoughtful about it...

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utahimeow · 1 year ago

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“kenma?”

“hmm?”

he doesn’t take his eyes off the tv screen where he shoots at enemies left and right, but his ears are all yours.

“who was your first kiss?”

it’s become a habit of yours to watch his fingers move on the controller, long and thin and dexterous, wondering how he manages to move them in such a swift manner that to you seems impossible.

“didn’t have one,” he says, blunt.

“ever?”

“ever.”

“how?” you ask, both surprised and not—though now that you think about it, through all the years you’ve known him, he probably would have told you if he had.

“all i did in middle and high school was play volleyball and game. didn’t have time to kiss anyone. also didn’t care about it,” he admits.

you suppose if he wasn’t with you or kuroo, he was at home, playing video games. but there was that little obsession of his with shoyo hinata… so you guess it wasn’t a crush after all.

there’s only an ounce of hesitation behind what you say next, because yes, kenma’s your best friend and this could change the trajectory of your entire relationship with him, but also it’s kenma. kenma who you’ve shared a bed and clothes with, kenma who’s seen you at rock bottom and who’s wiped your snot and tears away when you were at your lowest, kenma who you’re attached at the hip with.

“what if i was your first kiss?”

kenma doesn’t falter at your words, not even for a second as he plays on expertly, nonchalant as always.

“uhh, why?” he asks, and you’re triumphant. if it was a ‘ew, no, what the fuck?’ then that’s how you’d know you fucked up. but it’s not.

“it kinda makes sense for me to be your first. also, i just wanna know what it’s like to kiss you,” you admit, shrugging your shoulders.

the next few moments are full of nothing but controller sounds and the music from the video game on the tv. in the faint glow that radiates from the screen, you make out a tiny dusting of pink on kenma’s pale cheeks.

eventually he gulps. then, “can we drink first?”

your mouth falls open with an insulted gasp and you have half a mind to smack him over the head.

“if you think i’m ugly you can say that, kozume,” you pout, crossing your arms.

“it’s not because i think you’re ugly, dumbass.”

“then why do you need to be drunk to kiss me?!”

kenma is silent again. he doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re staring at him utterly indignantly.

“because i’m too scared to look you in the eyes right now.”

oh.

now you get it.

kenma kozume is such a virgin. and you want him so incredibly badly. in fact you have to restrain yourself from jumping into his lap and kissing him until he can’t think straight.

instead you slide off the couch and head towards his fridge, grab two bottles of asahi and the bottle opener from the utensil drawer before padding back over to the couch, sitting an inch or two closer to kenma than you were before.

you click one bottle open for him, then one for yourself, then without a hint of hesitation you take a confident swig until you’re near chugging the drink.

“chill,” kenma says, side-eyeing you after taking a swig from his own bottle. “don’t want you pulling a himeno on me.”

you let out a noise that’s half-scoff and half-laugh, smacking at his arm. “don’t joke about that. that scene was traumatic.”

two bottles of beer later, kenma’s in-game reflexes start to waver. he’s no longer as sharp as usual, though his tipsy state still trumps the skills of an average player. meanwhile, your head floats with the buzz of alcohol—well, it hovers.

“kenmaaa,” you whine, shaking his arm, when all of a sudden his character is shot to death and the screen pauses as if to deliberately rub his defeat in his face. you stifle a giggle while he runs his hands over his face, though you’re pretty sure it’s not because he lost.

“what?” he asks, but he fails at conveying any real irritation towards you. his voice is small, frail almost.

“i wanna kiss you,” you say. your fingers still cling to the fabric of his hoodie sleeve. kenma’s entire body burns from it. he’s so fucked.

“okay, fine,” he says, turning his body to finally face you and criss-crossing his legs on the couch. “this feels awkward though, how are we-”

and you’ve waited long enough for this, and the alcohol that buzzes through your system makes you throw all your morals out the window, and you’re grabbing him by fistfuls of his hoodie and dragging him towards you until your lips smash—literally—together, and finally he shuts up.

you’re not sure what overcomes you, but you’re kissing him like you’re hungry, not quite ravaging him, but years of yearning deep inside of you bubbles to the surface and fills you with desperation.

also, you’re tipsy.

it’s not long before you come back to your senses a little and remind yourself that this is just his first kiss. go easy on him, maybe?

you move away, slowly, as though trying not to startle him, to find a pair of golden feline eyes blinking back at you. they’re swimming with something unintelligible, something akin to… need? you think you must be seeing things. you’re tipsy, after all.

the silence that hangs over the pair of you is heavy—too heavy. it hurts your shoulders. you laugh so that it goes away, covering your face as though kenma’s timidness was contagious and has now spread to you.

eventually, when you peer back up at him, he’s grinning almost… triumphantly. despite the blush that covers his entire face, he looks victorious. his face replaces any words he could say, and he turns back to his game without a word.

you, however, struggle to keep your thoughts to yourself.

“can we do that more often?” you ask, leaning your frame against his, nuzzling your face into his warmth.

“yeah, we can.”

#kenma x reader #kenma kozume x reader #kenma x you #kenma imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fanfic #hq x reader #꒰ lovers. ꒱ — kenma

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celestiamour · 5 months ago

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pls pls plsss write smth where fem reader and se-mi meet at the games and fall for one another? w the reader having a sort of bubbly and cute personality! tysm 🫶🫶

ft. se-mi x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ falling for your cute and bubbly personality┊0.7k words

contains: fluff! reader is a sweetheart, asking you out

➤ author's note: i was so in love with her this entire season like i couldn’t stop giggling every time she showed up on screen

you seem to be able to create friends even in this impossible situation, she notes as she watches you with amused eyes while you flutter around the room from group to group like a pretty butterfly flying from flower to flower. there’s at least one person in the dozens of teams who you know by name and not number, and even if you didn’t, you thought all of them were deserving of a drop of sunshine that was your personality. you made even the most difficult people crack a smile with how infectious your energy was and how sweet you were even in these murder games, and it made her indifferent heartbeat a little faster whenever it was her turn to have your attention. who wouldn’t feel that way when there was such a cute girl who reminded her of the princesses from those cartoons she watched when she was little?

“se-mi unnie!! how are you holding up?”

she hadn’t seen the real light of the sun in days, yet your smile shone even brighter than the morning star and she briefly wondered if she would be blinded if she looked directly at it. you were like a doll in the sense that it seemed to be permanent, but after seeing the look on your face after the first game where dozens died like they meant nothing, she now knows you were simply spreading some much-needed love to others as a way to cope with the traumatic experience like the sweetheart you were.

“i’m doing okay, i just wish the food tasted better— come sit next to me,” she commanded, patting her free hand against the open spot on the mattress because she wanted as much of your time as possible.

“well, it’s kimbap, so you can’t really go wrong with it!” you obediently climbed onto the bed with her, sitting so close that she could smell the artificial flower-scented soap of the shower you took a couple of hours ago. “when we get out of here, you should come over to my place and i’ll cook you some food! i’m not as good as my grandma, but it’s a lot better than the cold stale stuff they serve here.”

“that would be great.” she liked the idea of coming over to your place, already able to imagine your room full of stuffed animal collections and lace curtains, although she would much prefer it if she came as something more than a friend— but now that she thinks about it, did you even like girls in that way like she does? you didn’t really express romantic interest in girls, but you exactly didn’t show any for guys either, being more of a little sister figure for them all rather than a potential love interest like she saw you as.

there was only one way to tell, so se-mi did what she did best, and that was flirting with girls.

“god, i wish this could be over already,” she sighed as she leaned over to your side to rest her head on your shoulder. “i would love to come over to your place, we could have a spa night and watch romance movies until morning.”

as soon as the words left her mouth, she felt heat start to radiate off your face. “l-like a date?”

“well, only if you want it to be a date…”

“w-well… um… i would… really, really like that… um, mrs kang is calling for me! i’ll talk to you later!” you stuttered as you rushed off in the direction of the old lady and her son, covering your face with your hands and running away like an embarrassed anime girl. she watched carefully as you told them something in a clearly excited tone before smacking the man with the glasses when his head snapped in se-mi’s direction, but they both seemed very happy for you which made her smile knowing you were on board

“goddamn it, why is everyone pulling cute girls except for me?!” an annoyingly familiar voice from a certain purple-haired rapper started. “what am i doing wrong? i’m thanos for crying out loud, i should be getting swarmed!”

“you might want to work on your technique.”

#📜. her works #se mi #se mi x reader #squid game #squid game x reader

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randomshyperson · 2 months ago

Text

The Pinning Problem - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: There are several ways to resolve the rivalry between the Avengers that does not involve fighting. Or, the one where Wanda Maximoff likes to be pinned down by her not-so-secret crush, and somehow this becomes the whole team's problem.

words: 2.944k | warnings: a lot of sexual tension, kissing, hints of rivals to lovers, this is a crack fic - nothing here can be taken seriously, another alternative solution for civil war that’s better than what they did, nothing explicit but hints of sub!wanda.

A/N-. I found this on my draft, had to translate, and I have no idea what was the inspiration or writing process but I thought it was so funny, so here it is. The name is actually quite self-explanatory.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

In Wanda's defense, a sequence of events led to this unsustainable situation.

It probably started a year ago, when she had mind-tricked the team of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes and felt confident enough to try it on someone who was notoriously known for being invulnerable. It was the first time Wanda had been pinned against a wall by another person, and it was the most inopportune situation possible for any feelings other than anger and fear, so of course Wanda had never been so aroused. Things didn’t get any better after that, and in her interactions with you in the Avenger routine a while later, she would probably describe you as having some obscure desire to pin her against things.

In training, against the mat.

In the kitchen, against the counter or the fridge, with bad excuses to reach things or just because you wanted to see her blush or traumatize any team member present.

And one notable time, one that haunted her in wet dreams for weeks, against the door of the motel room you were staying in for one of the countless stakeout missions in search of clues about the Winter Soldier.

Wanda was never so grateful for a shared bathroom as the day she saw you in just a towel, hair and wet muscles exposed.

“Damn, wrong door.” You said with an innocent tone, but it didn’t seem like you had made any mistakes, the little smile giving away your true intentions.

Wanda, who had just emptied the bathroom for the next in line for the shower, clutched the towel to her body tighter, a nervous giggle escaping her.

She's never felt as powerful as she does now, using all her mental and spiritual control not to rip off those towels and grab you with the entire team to witness.

“Did you save some hot water for me, witchy?” You teased with your hand on the doorframe, too close for Wanda to breathe properly. She had to blink her concentration back, her brain barely able to focus on anything other than your inviting lips.

“Hm, I can’t say I have it.”

You lick your lips, a smile threatening to escape as Wanda's eyes followed the movement. "No problem, I need a cold shower anyway." That's what you said, using much more of her personal space than you needed to exit the room.

And for the next few weeks, Wanda could only remember that feeling, her fingers tucked deep inside her pants as she bit her lip to keep from whimpering your name to the ceiling.

The fight between Steve and Tony escalated into a catastrophe shortly after that, and Wanda had a little time to focus on other things.

That is until Clint picked her up at the Tower, and informed her that he had two stops to make. Ant-Man was the easy part, he was loud and energetic and kept Clint busy with excited questions about his life as an Avenger.

You were the proof of the gods.

With a leather jacket you got as a gift from Natasha hiding a band t-shirt that in Wanda's opinion, made you look like the most attractive person she had ever laid eyes on, you threw your backpack on the bench and squeezed in next to her.

You didn't have to press your lips to her cheek, but you did it anyway, as if you and Wanda were great friends, and you had missed her a lot in the last few weeks you hadn't seen each other with all the team's drama.

“What’s up, witchy?” It was so casual that Wanda almost believed that you two had a real relationship and not a history of arguments, teasing and staring challenges.

Clint didn't pay a second thought to the matter, he was stressed with everything that was happening to the team, and he was pleased that you were joining the fight, especially on his side. Having a demigoddess should mean an easy victory, and hopefully, without much fighting.

Staying under wraps in Europe until it was time to meet Steve at the appointed point was a minefield. Four people sharing a van, two of whom were hormonal teenagers, with some sort of battle going on over who would give in first could easily be one of the reasons Clint Barton wanted to stay retired.

Three hours into the ride, and Wanda let out another sigh from the backseat, and he had enough.

“I swear to god I’m going to make you walk all the way there.” The hawk warned, stealing a glance in the rearview mirror, quick enough for him to see you move your hand away from Wanda’s thigh. He snorted in disbelief. “That’s so inappropriate. And disgusting.”

“Don’t be homophobic, Clint.” You immediately retort, but the Avenger shook his head, chuckling reluctantly.

“I’ll tell your cousin what kind of things you do while other people are around you, young lady.” He threatened but you shrugged, an easy laugh escaping you.

“Good luck trying to slut-shame me to the god of fertility.” Your bratty response made Wanda and Scott hide a giggle.

Clint huffed in irritation. “What the hell, that’s not what I’m doing!” He defended himself, offended. “I just don’t want to be there while you make out with your girlfriend.”

You shrug. “Sounds like homophobia to me, man.”

Clint shakes his head indignantly, and tries to look at Scott for some support but the other just shrugs, with an expression that he agrees with your words. The Archer lets out a humorless laugh, and announces that he will stop for food at the next gas station he drives by.

When the stop finally happened, almost an hour later, Clint and Scott practically fled the car.

Wanda thinks she should have at least changed seats.

“Can I ask you something?” She ventured as the noise of the older Avengers talking grew more distant, as they were going to buy food at the convenience store. You hum in agreement, and Wanda swallows hard because she feels your gaze on her. “How did Barton convince you to join the fight?”

The question takes you by surprise. You change seats, and Wanda almost regrets it, but you do it just to look at her and it's more disconcerting than before.

“Why wouldn’t I join? I’m an Avenger too.” Apparently, you wanted to see her reaction. Sometimes, Wanda forgot that not everyone could read minds. Especially you, who, although you could resist any of her magic tricks, didn’t have the same abilities to do them on other people.

“I know, I meant…” She thought for a moment about the right words. “I just got the impression that Thor advised you to stay a little distant from things like that. He himself doesn’t seem to be around much for this kinda of… human and bureaucratic stuff.”

You click your tongue. “I’m human, Wanda. Half, but still.”

“I know!” she snaps back, her cheeks hot. “I just meant—”

“I know what you mean, I’m messing with you.” You cut her off with a giggle, gesturing slightly. “I’m flattered, you know? That you think I’m so strong and amazing, so superior to all of this.” You make an exaggeratedly theatrical expression, and Wanda laughs with an eye roll.

“Oh, shut up.” She retorts, and manages to make you smile too. The lightness of the interaction changes the second after this dialogue ends. You look at her in a different way, more intense and vulnerable, and Wanda swallows hard. She feels like she wants to say a million things at once, but it’s you who speaks first.

“You’re right though, I wasn’t going to get involved.” You say, your typical confidence failing for the first time since Wanda met you. “Diplomatic immunity and Asgardian royalty perks or something like that.” You joke with a weak laugh, but something about the way you’re saying it makes it impossible for Wanda to laugh, let alone breathe properly. “Clint only had to use two magic words to get me on the team.”

She swallows hard, her stomach flipping. “What words?”

You smile at the corner of your mouth, not meeting her eyes for a moment. And then you sigh deeply, and look at her. “Wanda Maximoff.”

The breath that escapes her is shaky and faltering, and you hold her gaze until she gathers her courage. You wait patiently for Wanda to approach, and you don't move at any of her hesitations, until she sighs and grabs the collar of your blouse, pulling you in with determination. Despite the urgency, the first kiss is not rushed. You let her get used to the feeling first, and pull away before Wanda has a chance to protest.

But when you dive back in the next second, you take control. Your hand cups her jaw and your mouth is hungrily against hers, teeth and tongue, devouring every whimper of need she gives you. You’re not immune to Maximoff’s charms either.” You gasp at Wanda’s taste, brow furrowed as if you’re physically unable to pull away.

But you have to, because Clint and Scott can't make a purchase longer than eight damn minutes.

The veterans climb into the car, and the archer turns to the back of the van to deliver the food and catches a glimpse of your disheveled appearances and uneven breathing and grunts of disbelief.

“For the love of god, I don’t even want to know. And don’t you dare touch my stuff!” He says, throwing the snacks into your laps as you and Wanda struggle to hide your giggles.

-&-

The plan was to sneak out, but Stark closed the airport. Steve's order was for everyone to put on their suits and follow him, but Wanda ended up trapped between the closed door of the van and your body.

“Everything okay, girls?” Captain America asked uncertainly, and without moving away, you forced a smile at Steve.

“Sure, Cap. I’ll just wish Wanda a good fight. We’ll catch up with you for a grand entrance, I promise.” It’s practically a warning that you’re going to do this regardless of Steve’s permission, so he clears his throat and waves for the team to follow him ahead.

The Avengers have barely finished walking away - she can still hear Clint complaining that the two of you haven't let go of each other when you lean your face down and kiss her.

She doesn't know what she expected, but she certainly doesn't feel prepared for this kind of kiss. Sloppy and charged with lust, just a few hours after she experienced the sensation of having your lips for the first time.

Your firm hands on her waist and the extra support of the van are the only things keeping her upright. Her wobbly legs gave out at the first bite of her lip, three kisses ago.

Between one gasp and another, and this because neither of you wants to let go, Wanda tries to remind you of what they are doing in Germany.

“We have to go. The others. The fight.” Each word comes between one kiss and another, and she’s not even trying to open her eyes, because you drag your mouth down her jaw and start pressing your lips to her neck with enough intention to make her arch her body towards you and forget the world around her.

Though you look equally affected, you manage to break the caresses with a husky chuckle. “Who the hell came up with the idea of adding a damn corset to your uniform, Wanda?”

The question makes her bite her lip, especially since she catches the way your gaze is fixed on her collarbone.

“I chose it myself. Don’t you like it?” She teases with false innocence, baiting you by puffing out her chest in your direction.

Your fingers reach up and pull at the limit of what the corset's laces will hold without opening, the gesture being suggestive enough for Wanda to tremble.

“I loved it, that’s the problem.” You murmur, evidently aroused, your mouth marking her skin again. “How do they expect me to fight with you looking like that around me. All I can think about is undressing you…” A soft bite on your lobe, and Wanda moans directly into your ear. “God, I could fuck you right here.”

“There’s no time.” She pants back, but your grip tightens a little and Wanda is sure that if you try to take her clothes off in the middle of this parking lot, she’ll help you.

“We can make time.”

But your whispered phrase carries a meaning she can’t ignore. She struggles to push her arousal away and manages to retort a hoarse “What?”

Your hands reach inside the suit's jacket, and move downward. Wanda gasps as she feels them on her ass, squeezing the flesh and forcing your hips together. The sensation is so delirious that she almost forgets she asked a question.

“We can kill time if we let the boys fight alone.” Your voice combined with all the attraction she’s kept secret for so long is like a siren song taking her mind to places far removed from Avengers intrigue, and more like beds or mats. Or anywhere you can press her, including this car. “Romanoff knows how to take care of herself, and the others wouldn’t even notice.”

“Yes, they would.” She retorts with a soft laugh before pulling your mouth back to hers. Kissing her again wakes something in you. Your hands go frantic, tugging and squeezing, and Wanda finds herself pressed completely against the iron door with one of your legs between hers. The softest press of your knee against her core makes Wanda gasp in a whimper.

You break the kiss to rest your forehead against hers. “You sound so beautiful when you make those sounds.” But she needs to put more distance between you, because she won’t be able to stop if she doesn’t do it now.

“We can’t.” She insists, one hand on your stomach to gently push you away. “Not now. And not here.” She sighs at the dark look in your eyes. “We gave you our word that we would help.”

For a moment, it looks like you’re going to ignore it, your lips brushing together, teasing away whatever sanity she has left. But then, you kiss her cheek and pull away, and Wanda would have slid down to the floor if it weren’t for van’s support.

“Okay, I’ll help.” You declare with a determination that makes Wanda swallow hard.

She barely has time to work on her appearance and has to rush to catch up with you, sprinting towards the team.

You missed the grand entrance - Things were about to start, and you interrupted a spider-clad teenager with an energy pulse that threw him away and kept him pinned to the ground.

“Sorry guys, I’m really busy today.” You announced. Everyone looked at you in shock, Tony seemed genuinely surprised to see you pick a team, and Steve seemed worried that you had changed your mind. When you started fighting with everyone, things got even more serious.

But Wanda didn't even have time to think about what it all meant; she realized that you weren't hurting them. You were bringing them together, to face them all at once.

Vision was probably the only one there who could do any damage due to the Infinity Stone, so she needed to keep him under control.

And with Spider-Boy safe and immobilized just like Vision, you screamed to the heavens.

“Heimdall, let’s take my friends for a ride!”

The Avengers only had time to widen their eyes. The transport was almost immediate.

Wanda closed her eyes, as shocked as the others, but the trip was actually smooth. While half the team was still fighting on the rainbow that led to Asgard, you held her by the waist, and the landing was calm and coordinated.

Steve was the first to approach you, as furiously as everyone else. “What do you think you’re doing? Send us back right now! We have to-”

“Sorry, I’m on vacation.” You cut him off, shrugging. Your hand is clasped in Wanda’s, who’s standing behind you.

The team all stands around, angry and surprised. Steve gives an incredulous laugh, but Tony actually laughs.

“Wow, that’s impressive, Rogers. Seriously, this time you outdid yourself in the worst decisions you could make. You didn’t think about what could happen when you called her to fight, she has the maturity of a ten-year-old!”

“Wow, and you can talk about maturity, can’t you Tony?”

You rolled your eyes, leaving them behind, cursing each other. Natasha was trying to stop King T'Challa from attacking Bucky, but none of them had a way out of here. Rhodes took off his armor helmet and was commenting on how huge Asgard was with Sam, while Clint tried to get a cell phone signal to warn Laura that he would most definitely be late. You think Ant-Man was trying to take pictures, but you got distracted by Wanda on the way through the Bifrost.

“Are we just going to leave them?” She asked, glancing at the irritated team.

You shrug. “Yeah, Heimdall will keep an eye on them. And when they calm down, the palace awaits. And you will see my royal chamber now.”

Wanda purrs, her cheeks flushed. “You’re getting pretty confident.” She teases, making you smile.

“I’m just inviting you to a late-night fondue.” You joke, and it’s Wanda’s turn to chuckle before pressing her lips against yours.

Some of the Avengers complain in the background but none of you are paying attention to them anymore.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff oneshots #elizabeth olsen x reader

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