#and i'm allowed to stop taking it if i want but if i have to choose rn between the two evils

[heartfullofleeches]

Ride or Die

Yan 🌽star + Stoner Reader

Summary: After a deal gone wrong, you text your roommate for help.

[Mentions of Weed]

-

Thursdays are pizza night.

It isn't much in the grander scheme of things, but to Brie it is the domesticity of the relationship blossoming between you. Not exactly just friends, yet still barely pushing the limits of the platonic bond you already shared before moving in. You've kissed him before, allowed him to sleep in your bed- Then again, the "kiss" was a conducting force for a mouthful of smoke you gave fair warning for him to prepare himself for; the night in your room being the outcome of him spitting up a lung moments later.

Brie didn't know what to do anymore.. Continue this little game of cat and mouse, praying somewhere deep down you feel the same way about him. Or move onto someone else, never able to give them the entirety of his heart because he knows a part of it will always belong to you.

"Why can't I cry anywhere else but the produce isle!" Brie bitterly whispers to himself as he swabs the corners of his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. Your sweater to be more precise. He'd rather not have a repeat of last week- That sweet lady was only trying to console him, but his face gets red as the tomatoes he used for his sauce crying over what may never be.

Whatever.

As far as Brie was aware, you didn't have a partner nor anyone you were really interested in, and you practically told each other everything. Maybe somewhere along the line, he could find happiness in this in-between stage in your relationship. Even if you weren't his partner, he still had you as a shoulder to cry on and the best roommate he could ask for.

"Get over yourself, Brie- You're going to make them the greasts pizza they've ever had, and if they haven't already fallen in love with you - they'll met someone who's a shitty cook and realize what they're missing!"

Isn't that the dream? These days, it feels like you're the only thought on his mind. He can hear your voice now.

"Brie? Brieeeee~ Pick up or I'll use your full government. Heh, you know I'm messing with you. But, seriously, pick up."

Oh. That's... your ringtone. The message was one of the first voicemails you left him when he purchased a new phone. He's missed plenty of calls from you hearing it out to completion.

"You rang, babe?"

That got a good chuckle out of you the first time. It was a total blunder on Brie's end, but you insisted he keep the nickname if he wanted to. There's no jovial air coming from your end of the line. Not even a snicker as your voice picks up over the silence.

"I need your help."

Never in your years long friendship had he heard you sound so serious before. There were glimpses - swiftly desected by your infections laughter or the change of topic, but never like this.

"I'm, I'm on my way." Brie switches his phone over to his left ear, propping it up with his shoulder. "What's wrong? Are you sick? Did you hurt yourself?"

"I think I killed a guy."

The line goes dead.

Brie gazes upwards at the tiled ceiling, phone slipping from his grasp as his thumb hoovers where the end call button once was. He regains his grip on the device as a text message comes in.

Its a picture of the body. Sprawled out with their arms and legs angled in different directions.

He can't catch his breath. Brie has always tried to drill it into your thick skull he'd do anything for you no matter what - and he meant it. Taking someone's life... It's unforgivable in most people's eyes. Especially the law's. If you got caught. If he lost you- What would that mean for him? The future you had together?

Racing through the aisles like a chicken without its head, Brie makes several stops on his way to the cash register. Cleaning, household goods, cutlery. He grabs items as soon as they're checked out and stuffs them into his backpack as he pays, evading his ritual of fishing through his wallet for the exact cash and change.

Brie isn't crazy enough to run red lights. He does, however, forget his seatbeat as he floors his car home; flying just beneath the legal speed limit for the area. He speeds up the tiny flight of stares leading to your apartment - bursting through the already unlocked front door.

"Babe! Baby, in here- I brought bleach, and trash bags, and- and.... These knives should be sharp enough to cut up their limbs- We can even move closer to my parents if we have to!"

Tripping over his own words and feet, Brie dumps the the contents of his backpack on the living room floor. It's then he notices how clean the floor actually is. No blood stains, no evidence of a fight. His eyes search the room, falling upon you in an unbothered state - seated on the couch next to a shivering man nervously sipping from a glass of water.

"Brie!" Standing, you make short work of the distance between you as you swarm Brie with a firm hug. "Missed you, pretty boy. You're back a little sooner than I expected not gonna lie."

Adrenaline depleting, Brie points over your shoulder at the stranger. "I thought he was..."

"He? Oh, right!- Brie, this is Nicky. Nicky, this is Brie. He came to buy some of my stash since his med card just expired and he doesn't like buying full price. Normally I would've done it elsewhere since I don't want to bring strangers into your space, but he's heading out of town once he leaves.... If he still can."

Nicky offers a timid wave to Brie, placing his cup down seconds before collapsing on the couch.

"Don't worry, he should be fine after a little nap."

Air flows freely through Brie's lungs as he clings onto you. You aren't a murderer. There isn't anything jeopardizing things between you- besides himself.

"You're such a jerk."

Pulling away from your embrace, Brie was torn between slapping or kissing you as you grin back at him. "What? Didn't actually think I killed the guy, did you?"

"Yes?! Because of your little prank I wasn't able to get everything I needed for dinner! I was ready to throw my entire life away for you! And it's all just a big joke to you!"

"Thanks, Brie."

Tension building behind his eyes, a soft kiss to his forehead keeps the tears at bay just a little longer.

"It's nice to have someone I can depend on for anything. That's rare to come by these days. If you're ever in the same situation, but for real- you know who to call."

Sniffling, Brie rests his head on your arm.

"You're damn right I do."

[muwapsturniolo]

𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝑳𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝑩𝒂𝒃𝒆 💫 Nick sturniolo (m! reader)

"i-i made a mistake, please, please just..."

✘ angst, i can't lie i had trouble writing this so I'm sorry that it isn't that good😭 i promise i will do nick justice next time, angst isn't my strongest genre.

It's dark in the bedroom, the only light being the moonbeams cascading down and illuminating a figure sitting on the edge of the bed.

He couldn't sleep, his mind toying with him and replaying his happiest moments that he took for granted and ruined - He felt guilty.

A soft shuffling is heard, his whole body tensing and his throat constricting. He slowly turns his head, his eyes landing on his sleeping wife.

She was a beautiful girl, she had a good heart and tended to forgive people too easily....and yet he found himself hating her

He knew it was wrong, the girl never did anything to harm him or make his life a living hell - He did that all on his own.

He was the reason he hates his life, not the woman he calls his wife.

He clenches his fists and faces forward, his eyes beginning to burn from the salty tears forming. He closes his eyes and lets out a shaky breath, his hands coming to his face as he rests his elbows on his knees.

"God, what is wrong with me..." He questions himself softly, the tears now running down his face.

He knew if anyone saw him they would think he was pathetic.

What kind of man sits on the edge of his bed in the middle of the night, head in hands as he cries next to his wife, all because he wishes he was with a boy?

A silent sob escapes his mouth as he recalls all the memories with him.

The day they met, the first time they hung out, the first time they got drunk, their first kiss, the endless nights of fooling around - He missed it, he craved it.

He couldn't believe he gave that all up to be nothing more than a husband in a picture-perfect American family.

He could hear Nick's voice as he replayed that day in his head.

"You can go and kiss 100 fucking girls Y/n, you can drink all you want and try to forget the feelings you have for me, but that doesn't erase the fact that you're gay!"

"I'm not gay Nick! I don't have feelings for you! This was a mistake o-A mistake? A mistake is spilling your coffee on your shirt when you're in a rush, not telling me you only want me to call you baby as your dick is shoved down my throat!"

The two males stare at each other, their breathing harsh as they try to come to terms with the end of their beginning.

Y/n sighs and allows his body to relax, "Nick...I'm sorry, ok? I-I...I'm sorry."

"Yeah well when you wake up regretting this choice, just know I told you so."

I told you so...

He was right.

He regrets everything.

His gold band glimmers softly in the moonlight, a reminder that he’s bound to a marriage that he doesn't even want.

He couldn't take it anymore

Without a second thought, he rips the band off, setting it on the nightstand and jumping up. He’s quick to change out of his pajamas, stumbling out of the house as he makes his way to the car.

His heart thumps loudly in his ears, his breathing erratic as he swings out of the driveway, heading towards his destination.

It wasn't long before he arrived at the infamous bar "Pink Cadillac." It was mainly known for being an LGBT+ bar, a place where people of different genders and sexualities could be with their own, and feel safe.

He hadn't stepped foot in this bar since that night, attempting to erase all the memories and a part of himself.

he sits in the car with sweaty palms, staring up at the neon sign as he debates going in.

he knew it was too late to back out, he already left her and his ring at home - He didn't have a choice anymore.

He climbs out of the car and slowly makes his way inside, the interior of the bar starting to look and feel familiar. He finds himself smiling as he sees pictures plastered on the wall from 7 years ago, recognizing the faces of his old acquaintances. He stops when he comes across a picture of him and Nick, the two of them smiling as they were crowned the kings of the "Pink Cadillac Prom".

He remembers that night as if it was yesterday, but he doesn't have enough time to dive into his memories due to someone approaching him.

"Look at what the cat dragged in! Long time no see Y/n"

He turns around and smiles softly seeing the familiar face of Damon. he was dressed up, makeup covering his face and his neon green wig laid to perfection.

"Damon...hey," Damon gives him a quick up and down before crossing his arms. "Didn't think I would see your face here ever again after that night..."

The smile on Y/n's face falters, his eyes now cast downward as he feels an ache in his chest. Damon sighs and drops his arms, pulling Y/n towards the bar.

"Whiskey coke?"

Y/n chuckles dryly, nodding his head as he sits at the bar. Damon whips up the drink before sliding it over to the male, Y/n taking a long sip before sighing. The two sit and talk, catching up on the years of missed events and laughing with each other over old memories.

It wasn't long before Damon finally questioned him, "What are you doing here Y/n?"

"I...I need to see Nick..."

Damon sighs and places his hands on the bar, "Y/n I don't think that's a good idea.... It was 7 years ago, you need to forget it, you're married!" Y/n shakes his head, refusing to give up.

"I-I'm not married anymore."

A lie.

A big fat lie.

He was still married to her, but he planned to get a divorce after tonight.

"I-Is Nick here?"

Damon stares at him for a moment before nodding, "he is, but Y/n I don't think you sh-Where is he?" Y/n cuts him off, eager to see his long-lost lover. He notices the tense look on Damon's face and finds himself begging.

"Damon, please... I messed up, I-I need to apologize and tell him I'm sorry.”

“He’s on the patio…”

Y/n has never moved so fast in his life, maneuvering through the bodies of dancing couples and heading straight towards the patio exit.

He makes it outside, his eyes darting around before they land on him,

Nick.

It was like a scene out of a movie, the fluorescent lights shining on Nick's face as he laughed loudly with his friends, unaware of the person walking up to him and prepared to spill their heart out.

"so I told hi-Nick?"

The shorter boy whips around at the familiar voice, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"Y/n? What are you doing here?"

he goes to answer but stops seeing Nick's friends looking at him, "Can we talk...In privet?"

Nick scoffs and sets his drink down, "No, I don't want to talk to yo-Nick please...?" Nick stares at him for a moment before sighing and standing up from the table. He walks off, motioning for Y/n to follow.

The two boys stand off to the side of the patio, hidden from the curious eyes and in their own world.

"Speak, what did you want to talk about?"

Nick's dismissive tone was expected, Y/n had hurt him. However, Y/n couldn't help but be hurt himself.

"I... I miss you."

Nick chuckles and shakes his head, " Nick please! Just hear me out! I'm sorry ok? I fucked up, I fucked up big time, I know that. I-I hurt you and I'm so so sorry."

Nick can see how distraught the man is, the bags under his eyes evident and the tone of his voice proving such, but Nick doesn't feel bad at all.

He felt smug.

He knew Y/n would come crawling back, claiming he was sorry and crying because he knew he was lying to everyone and himself when he claimed he was straight and getting married to a girl.

"I hate to say it, but I told you so," Nick states, his arms crossed right across his chest. Y/n couldn't even be mad at the words thrown in his face, he knew Nick was right.

"I-I know. You were right, you are right. I-I was struggling Nick, I-I'm-" He struggles to find the right words to express his feelings and thoughts.

"I'm sorry...What we had wasn't a mistake. I did - No I do, have feelings for you. I was just scared Nick, it was one thing to be gay in private with our friends here, but it was another for me to be gay in public, and I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry for being a coward and lying to you and myself-" Y/n moves closer toward Nick, slowly trapping him between his chest and the pink-painted bricks of the club.

"-B-but I can handle it now, I-I want to try again...I want to try us again." Nick begins to look uncomfortable, the words and closeness of Y/n being too much. Nick gently pushes him away, his mouth dry as he tries to speak.

"Y/n...."

The taller male could already feel the tears forming in his eyes, he knew by the way Nick pushed him back and said his name that he was being turned down. He shakes his head, pleading softly with Nick as he holds his arms tightly.

"Nick please"

"Y/n let go..."

"Please just give me a chance!"

"Let go!"

"I-I made a mistake, I just-"

"I'M ENGAGED !"

Silence stands between the two, Nick looking away awkwardly as Y/n feels the bile rise in his throat. He's lying, he has to be lying. There's no way he was engaged...Right?

"W-what?"

Nick holds up his hand, "I'm engaged Y/n.... "

he looks at the shiny diamond ring, the ring reminding him of the one currently on his nightstand.

"D-don't say that...D-don't marry him, please!"

Now Nick was angry.

How dare Y/n show up and expect him to forgive him right away and live happily ever after. How dare he demand that he not go through with the marriage.

"That's rich coming from you! You're a fucking hypocrite Y/n, you left me to get married to a girl! A girl! Now you're telling me not to get married to the person who helped put me back together after you broke me?! Fuck you!"

"I'm not married to he- I don't fucking care Y/n!" Nick shouts. He sighs and removes his glasses, rubbing over his face in annoyance.

"Look... I'm happy now Y/n, I actually love myself now to not keep up with your bullshit. You coming here was a mistake....Go home."

Y/n swallows harshly as Nick's words hit him harshly.

He was right once again, this was a mistake.

"I-I...should go...Sorry for bothering you...'' He whispers softly, slowly backing up before turning around and starting to walk away. Nick's voice calling out for him makes him stop, hope filling in his chest.

"I'm glad you finally stopped lying to yourself...I hope you find the love you deserve...Good luck, babe."

Y/n smiles faintly despite feeling like shit. With a heavy heart, he leaves the bar, his whole body feeling numb as he drives back home.

He silently walks through the door and throws his keys back in the bowl, dragging his feet against the carpet as he enters the bedroom.

She's still sleeping.

He strips himself of his clothes and slides the gold band back on his finger. As he climbs into the bed, she awakens, her eyes fluttering open softly.

"Babe? Where did you go?" She questions.

"Needed some water...Sorry for waking you." He lies effortlessly. She hums and curls into his body, missing the grimace on his face due to the darkness of the bedroom.

"I love you," she mutters as she begins to go back to sleep.

"Yeah...Love you too...."

Another lie.

[anotherapollokid]

No but I swear, all those people hating on him for even breathing the wrong way. Let the dude live, he has talent but even the most talented people would stress and not do well under that much hate. Everything he says is taken out of context :

"It was luck not talent" Wasn't about whether Max is talented or not but about the free pit stop he got during the red flag, something Lando has said multiple times. It's not about Max, it's about the rules. He took a gamble because no red flag was announced, because it took them so long he lost a lot of positions and was able to fight back on some of them but we've all seen how erratic this weekend was. The last thing Lando wanted was to end up in a wall because he drove recklessly under rain.

"He needs to change his driving style." Because if you look at the rules the FIA is supposed to apply a lot of things Max does aren't really legal. He is an amazing driver, he put the shitbox the Red Bull is this year compared to last year from p17 to p1 and finished a race with a 20 second penalty as if nothing happened. But if you look in Austria : he was zigzaging in front of Lando which is very dangerous and not allowed. But he did that because otherwise he couldn't keep Lando behind him and even ended up putting him in a wall. In Austin Lando got a penalty that wasn't fair, I've looked at the footage from every angle possible and Max is out of the racing lines when he's supposed to let a car's length because Lando was slightly ahead but because he can't accept that he pushed him wide and Lando got a five second penalty. The next week in Mexico Max did the same thing twice in a row and other FIA agents looked at it and said it wasn't fair. I'm not saying that 10 seconds each time was necessary but those kinds of rules exist for a reason.

I'm prepared for the hate but I want to let you all know that I'm not saying Max is a bad driver, it's just that he's driving recklessly and endangering other drivers by doing that. The same thing goes for every driver, if they're in Formula One there is a reason. They are 20 of the most talented drivers out there (maybe not Stroll but that's another debate) and they are athletes. Most of those interviews are done in the heat of the moment and they have so much adrenaline and other hormones running through their veins that it is hard to think clearly. But for some reason you love to hate on Lando for that. Although it is like Lewis when he was winning people were saying he was arrogant and didn't deserve it, that it was only the car, same goes for Schumacher and others before them. Hell even Max until this year was hated on for winning. But Lando is being hated on for being open about mental health and how the pressure they are under has been affecting him, he's not the first to go on the record about that and yet he's the one taking all the hate for it because he's just that good.

- Love <3

I'm just gonna say this:

I hope your favorite driver(s) NEVER has to endure the treatment that Lando has received for simply *existing*. It's honestly heartbreaking that people think this behavior is okay.

Maybe I'm an outlier, but hate towards ANY driver is wrong.

We need to do better.

[illalwaysbealoserforlove]

You should be sitting on my cock right now.

Your body laying back against me, trying not to move but so desperately wanting to.

You wanted my cock and I'm gaming, so I gave you what you wanted.

But you're not allowed to move, you have to wait until I'm ready to fuck you.

I can feel you dripping down my shaft, I'm trying to keep focused but I can't with your squirming and tiny whimpers against my ear.

I bet it feels like torture, being so filled with my cock and yet not being able to do anything about it.

Aw my poor baby, if you weren't such a desperate fucking slut we wouldn't be like this right now hm?

Oh look you're getting wetter, of course you are.. Your dumb little cunt can't help but gush at my patronising tone, you fucking love it don't you?

I'm losing control now, you can feel me twitching inside of you and you just keep trying to grind against me, I'm not even trying to stop you at this point.

I toss the controller beside us and push my hand between your legs, using my thumb to rub over the hood of your clit to tease you, immediately I feel your legs squeeze my hand, you whimper loudly and I grin, kissing your neck softly.

Oh what? You can't handle it now?

I'll spread your legs and spank your clit gently.

Don't fucking move bitch.

Now you're getting tighter fuck, I start to rub directly over your clit gently as I wrap my other arm around your waist and start to thrust up, slow and deep just to tease you.

God you feel so fucking good around me... And I know you're close, I can fucking feel it.

I want you to cum for me... I really do...

I want to feel your cunt tighten as you gush all that cum onto my cock, I want to feel it drip down my balls and I want you to clean it up afterward like a good cum slut.

But you're practically begging me to fuck you at this point, and I'll give you that.

I'll stop rubbing your clit and grip your waist, I'll lift you a little before I start to fuck up into you as hard and fast as I can, my balls smacking your clit, your moans are so immediate and high pitched and I'm groaning out before fucking hell you're cumming already

But I'm not exactly gonna stop, you fucking asked for this.

You're the one who wants- no needs, to constantly be filled with cock, or my tongue. You're so fucking needy for your daddy hm?

You're shaking and unable to control your movements, so I tighten my grip on you.

What are you trying to say love?

You- you can't what??

Can't handle it?

Seriously?

.... Tough luck.

I bend you over, your hands hitting the coffee table as I slip back inside and get back to my hard and rough pounding, smacking your ass and making you cum a second time.

Because deep down we both know you can take it, all your no's and stops are just fake aren't they? You're a fucking hole, you know your only use is to be filled with my cock.

I don't stop until I'm about to cum, your hands lose balance and you fall against the table, I laugh at you and it just makes you wetter, you cum one more time before I pull out completely and pull you back by your hair.

Shoving you down to your knees.

Fucking lick my cock, clean it up and make you cum.

Good girl... Fuck...

It doesn't take long until I'm cumming all over your pretty face, smacking your face with my heavy cock and making you thank me for making you cum, for using you.

[revelboo]

ugh the bluestreak one really makes me feel things. I want to protect him and reassure him and be there for him and hold him and just let him be happy and loved 😭

Thank you for writing these fics the always make my day. I'm curious, do you have plans for the stories or do you come up with stuff as you write?

I have a rough idea where I’m going with these, but I’m not sitting down and outlining these by any means 😅

Where I Belong Pt 5

IDW Bluestreak x Reader

• “You can tell me to shut up, I won’t get mad,” he says watching your little legs swing where you’re stretched out on his desk on your belly, a blanket under you. He’s not allowed back on patrol just yet, but he can still work on the never ending supply of reports to be filed away. A boring enough job, but it’s nice to have you there with him. Someone to talk to as he works the datapad with one hand and drapes the other against your shoulders and back so you’re not shivering. You’re always worryingly cold and he likes the contact, the reminder that you’re there. That he’s not alone.

• Eyes closing as a servo presses between your shoulders, rubbing almost absentmindedly, you soak in the warmth of his touch. “You’re not bothering me,” you reassure him again. Because it’s apparent that he’s used to being told to stop talking and that makes you dearly want to slap someone. For being so big, being able to hurt you so easily, he’s shockingly careful with you like he’s afraid of accidentally breaking you. “I like your stories.” And you do, because it’s like he has years worth of anecdotes and stories he’s just been waiting to share. And he gets so excited about them, like a big kid. It’s adorable.

• “I’m sorry again that you can’t leave the Ark,” he mutters, watching from the corner of his optic as you glance at him. “You’re trapped here because of me. I shouldn’t have asked you to stay.” It’s not fair to you that he took your freedom away without even asking because he’d been terrified. Clinging to you, pleading to not be left alone. And you’d stayed, reached out to him in return. He doesn’t know if it was only pity, but it means everything to him.

• Every worried word just melts your heart a bit more. “I chose to stay and I don’t regret it.” Pushing against his palm until he moves his big hand so you can climb to your feet and walk closer to him, head tipping back to meet those blue optics. Seeing the uncertainty there, the guilt. “I like it here.” With you. And you do. You like his company even if you’re essentially on alien house arrest. Makes you wonder what your boss thought when you just blipped off the face of the earth, house abandoned and destroyed. Maybe no one has even noticed you’re missing yet. Or cared. You’d been alone and okay with that, but Bluestreak needs you and it feels good to be needed.

• He’s reaching before he can think better of it, servos curling around you, but stopping short of actually touching you. Silently asking permission, if it’s okay. And your smile is amused as you take a little sideways step to press against his palm, allowing him to pick you up. So small and warm as he lifts you against him under his chin, against his neck where the mesh is most sensitive so he can feel you there. Reassuring himself. “Thank you,” he says, trying to not cling too tightly, but never wanting to let go. Knowing that like everyone else, no matter what you say now, you’ll get tired of him. You’ll leave him too. Everyone does in the end, but for now he can pretend.

Previous

[ddiidi]

bf! LeeMinho x gn! Reader

Masterlist

When he strikes an insecurity by accident

Previous Pt. 1

Pt. 2

!Warnings: angst, swearing, term "princessa" is used, reader has childhood trauma Minho does know abt, fluff, kissing, mention of blood, mention of violence, lmk if I missed any

Side-Note: Should I make a special Pt. With reader having a nightmare about her past?

Ppl that want to be added the the general tag list for all series comment 🤍 pls🙏🏽

Minho has never been home as fast as he been today. He skipped red lights, speeding through the city as if he's crazy. He has to get home as fast as possible and see if you're alright.

He entered the parking lot in front of your shared house and basically jumped out the car, tripping over his feet and letting his keys fall. He cursed, getting up and runs towards the house door, entering.

The house was quiet. "Y/n?! Y/n, baby, answer me please!" Minho yelled running towards the kitchen door. He opened the door and looked around. You were no where to be seen. Panic raises in him, as he walks towards the kitchen island, uncutted ingredients sitting on it.

He walked around the kitchen island and froze. He stared down at your laying body, unmoving, blood fleeing out of your left thigh, a knife laying besides you.

He panics. Kneeling down besides you, shaking you. "Y/n!! Y/n, god, please wake up! I'm sorry okay? I'll make it up to you, so please just wake up", he kept yelling and begging, your body not moving an inch...

How long have I been asleep...you think to yourself, Why is everything dark..you ask yourself, Why does my body hurt so much...you wonder to yourself. You start to fall. Deep. A dark while swallowing you inside, pain crusing through your body. Then there was nothing. Black darkness, till someone grabbed your arm.

You try to free yourself from their grip, but you suddenly weren't an adult anymore. You were a child, you were your younger self, standing in the kitchen with your mother. Your mother yelled, at man, your dad, his grip on your arm tightening, as he pulled you down to the ground.

Your mother yelled your name, crying hitting your dad. He grabbed for a kitchen knife and-

Your eyes shot open, abruptly sitting up from, what feels like a couch, panting, drained in sweat. You looked around. You weren't in your parents's house but in your shared house with Minho. You were pretty positive you fainted in the kitchen, so how come you're on the living room couch now? You tried to stand up, letting out a Yelp at the pain in your left leg, looking down, you see your leg Baindaided. You let out a heavy sigh, looking over at your phone.

You picked it up, several missed calls and unopened messages from Minho.

You slightly smiled to yourself at his panic and were about to reply, when you heared someone walking around in the house. You grabbed the empty, sweets plate off the coffee table and tried to stand up, when the person entered the room.

You closed your eyes and screamed, in shock the other person screamed too.

Wait- You knew that voice.- You slowly opened your eyes and stopped screaming as you saw who stood there. Minho.

You stared at each other, till Minho talked first "Why in the world are you screaming!" He yelled "Why are you sneaking around the house!" You yelled back. "I'm not sneaking around, I made you something to eat, your Highness! I'm sorry i'm not allowed to cook in my own house!" He scoffed and you sat back down, crossing your arms over your chest. You looked away, still made for what he said per text.

He came over to you and sat a plate, filled with food, on the coffee table, turning to look at you. "Hey..sweets..how ar-" "Dont talk to me." "What- but I-" "I said don't talk to me. Don't wanna be a clingy baby, who's up your ass 24/7 and can't take care of herself, because I can. So leave me alone. Why are you here anyway." You bit out at him, still not facing him.

He stayed quiet for some time, before putting a hand on your shoulder to turn you around. "Hey please...i just,- i'm sorry. Really, what I said was, totally not okay and I know a sorry won't help anything but I want to make this right. You hurted yourself because of me and I can't every forgive that myself, but I want to make sure you won't hurt yourself again. I didn't think when I said these things." he stared into your eyes and you stared back, he was deeply sorry, you could see it.

You let out a sigh and hugged him tightly, inhaling his scent to calm your racing heart. "I dreamed again...you know.." Your arms around him tighten, such as his around you "I know. That won't happen sweets, never, i'll protect you, always okay?". You hummed in agreement and pulled away from him. He kisses first your nose, then your lips, softly.

After what feels like 1 second but also a life time, he pulled away from you, putting his forhead against you. "Eating now?" With a nod you pull away, trying the food.

"I'm still mad at you though"

.・゜-: ✧ :-⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 🖤🤍🖤 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇-: ✧ :-゜・．taglist: @hwayne2294 @stephanieeeyang @chanchansgirly @mmarusa @seungminsteddybear @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @chrisbangswifey @straykidslvr @victorbutnotreally @hannieslovebot @seungfl0wer @lemonn015 @certainsweetssheep @rockstarkkami @bbokari711 @grubeboss4 @peanutkittyt

[willow-trees-are-beautiful]

All they remembered was their propensity for losing their memory occasionally. They upped their count: 351. Though they couldn't remember their name, the feel of 'Vee' was comfortable, leaving them no doubt that they wanted to call themself by it. A click, a rush of air and a swish announced that the door to... wherever they were... was opening. They twisted themself around to face the door, and were stopped short. Not physically, though they were finding it hard to move, but rather, they felt as though their head was pounding and their heart was pounding even harder. The person in the doorway had unbound hair long enough to appear cape-like. Their purple bodysuit was tailored to perfection, and it hugged their natural curves, letting Vee's eyes wander to all the hottest parts.

"Not that I'm not enjoying your delicious eye candy, but," Vee asks, before getting cut off.

"Shut up. What are you planning?" the person demands.

"What?" Vee's nose wrinkles, and they try to search for an answer but come up empty.

"Don't play games with me. I, Roe, know that you never allow anything unless you have it all planned out. So, what are you planning?"

Roe. The name sounded so familiar and yet so foreign at the same time.

"Do I know you?" Vee asks, fully aware that they have amnesia episodes and will certainly remember themself later, but struggling to place the face and name with anyone.

That gave Roe pause. Roe turned to directly face Vee.

"You don't remember anything, do you?" they ask.

Vee shrugs. "No. The only things that I know for sure are 1) I would love to get to know you, and 2) I will eventually remember myself, it just might take a while."

Roe sighs, turning around dramatically, practically stomping out the door, and calling out, "Doctor! What did you do?"

"So is that a yes for a date tonight?"

Prompt #290

Hero has finally managed to take Supervillain into custody, and they are anxious to begin interrogating them, to finally uncover every secret and plan.

Unfortunately, from the moment Supervillain woke up in their cell, they can’t remember anything. Not their name, their profession, or their relationship with Hero. All they know is that this beautiful person keeps talking like they know them. And Supervillain really wants to know more about them.

[mimicofmodes]

I saw a post going around about costube historians analyzing period film costumes for accuracy and it kind of got under my skin, so I'm sitting down and writing ... not exactly a response to it, but a discussion of the topic.

(It would be a direct response except that I don't actually watch costube, because quite frankly I can't watch/listen to people discuss things I already know. And I don't want to be like "they don't do X!" when maybe they really do X and I'm just not aware. But a lot of the complaints hit the same points that have been brought up against fashion historians for reviewing costumes for decades. I would also note that I have looked into specific videos where there were claims of terrible costuber behavior and watched them and found nothing.)

If you're going to analyze a period film's costuming in any way, you should still interact with the historical aspect to some degree. If you want to talk about the use of bold stripes in Tim Burton's Sleepy Hollow, for instance, and you don't mention that they were in style during the period the film appears to be set in, it's kind of weird.

Likewise, yes, if you're critiquing primarily from the angle of historical accuracy, you should also engage to at least some extent with the reasoning behind the inaccuracy. If a reviewer doesn't do so at all, then yes, their review is probably not as good as it could be.

People pointing out an inaccuracy (or many inaccuracies) are not inherently scolding the costume designer. Even if their tone is something other than sweet. Sometimes they are scolding other people involved in the production, like the director who mandated a particular costume, or just a general notion of TPTB. Usually they are divorcing the art from the artist, though, and just reviewing the costuming from their particular viewpoint and knowledge base for a likeminded audience.

Sometimes, yes, they are complaining directly about the costume designer. This is not a crime. Some costume designers (for instance, Sandy Powell) have an incredible grasp on fashion history and excellent taste when it comes to diverging from it. Others simply don't have as in-depth of an understanding and make design decisions sometimes based on stereotypes and myths. Some costume designers will explain their decisions in interviews or blog posts and make it clear that they didn't make a truly informed decision about accuracy because they didn't know enough about the period. It's important for both sides of the equation to stop painting the other with too broad of a brush ("ivory-tower elitists who have no idea of a production's needs or budget" vs. "costumers who know how to sew but not how to do historical research").

If you're allowed to complain about a writer or a director or an actor doing something you don't like in a movie, you're also allowed to complain about a costume designer. You're allowed to have aesthetic preferences, and even to talk about them without hedging every five seconds to make it clear that others can disagree, although some of this is beneficial with any critique. Why would it be otherwise?

This seems really obvious to me, but maybe it's not? But "they costumed that female actor in an anachronistically sexy way because sex sells" is a feminist issue. The assumption that women's bodies should be sites of less-clothed allure while men's should attract by being more covered (with more layers than in modern dress, with cravats, etc.) is sexist. Complaints about female characters being costumed inaccurately are often being made along these lines, and pointing out that the producers insisted on it or something does not mean it's suddenly unproblematic that every female character deemed fuckable has to have low necklines at all times and modern shiny hair.

It's true that fiction isn't non-fiction and shouldn't be taken that way, but it's also demonstrably true that viewers do take cliches in film aesthetics as accurate when they see them enough times. People cite Scarlett O'Hara's 18" waist. They believe there were no bright colors before the 1920s and that women couldn't have put their hair up unless they were wealthy. These beliefs have consequences when it comes to public perceptions of history, and if films perpetuate them it's perfectly reasonable to point out that they support ideas about e.g. gender roles that trads express today.

It's also simply funny when a film's hair or costuming or makeup is supposed to evoke a lack of artifice but actually requires quite a bit of artifice because people don't naturally have perfect hair and skin and so on.

If you don't like reviews of period films that focus on the accuracy of the costuming, maybe ... don't watch/read reviews by fashion historians and historical costumers? At least unless they're vetted for you by someone who doesn't mind that?

[goosewithtwoos]

TAKE ME BACK TO EDEN

pairing: bob x reader

summary: literally just porn :3

The vibrator pressed against your clit along with Bobs tongue fucking inside your needy hole was probably going to be the death of you.

His glasses had become fogged from how long he'd been going down on you but even blind, he knew how to please.

His hands were grasping at your thighs like they were the only thing keeping him grounded to earth. He loved how soft they were in his callused hands and you loved the bruises they left when all was said and done.

"Bobby - Robert - please." You weren't sure why you were begging, he always let you cum whenever and wherever. The way your core would pulse against his tongue was more of a high than pulling 6 g's ever would be.

He didn't even justify your cries with a response, only pressed down more on the vibrator. You knew you were probably crushing his head between your thighs but his moaning told you that he wasn't really complaining all that much.

The pleasure became too much and you knew you were going to cum soon. Your hand found his hair, pulling him closer and pushing him away all at the same time but he was having none of that.

His tongue replaced the vibrator and two fingers found their way inside you, pressing right against your sweet spot. You were finished. It was like Heaven came down to earth and you were basking in all it's glory.

"Oh my God, I love you so much. You're such a good boy for me. God, you're so fucking good." You babbled.

It was like your high was never ending. Even after he pulled away, you felt the loss but couldn't stop shaking.

"Cum inside me. Please, please, I need you to cum inside me right now." Your head was swimming. Blame it on your ovulation or randomly, newly discovered breeding kink, but you were going crazy thinking about him filling you up.

He looks up at you over his glasses, the bottom half of his face completely soaked. "You really want that?"

You nod vigorously. "Robert Samuel Floyd if you don't cum inside me right now I will go find someone who will."

That was all the coaxing he needed.

He immediately gets up, positioning your hips underneath a pillow and slotting himself between your thighs. His dick was red and leaking from rubbing against your comforter for so long. You would always lose track of time the moment he got his hands on you.

"So wet." He murmurs like he wasn't the one who made you this way. "Such a pretty pussy, all spread out for me. Gonna fill you up so good."

You bite your lip to stiffle the groan. Your core was still pulsing from your previous orgasm and you needed another one.

Bob slowly presses into you, making you both groan. His breath began to pick up - a tell tale sign he was trying to keep himself from cumming embarrassingly quick.

"You're so tight." He pants.

You reach for his biceps only to have him tangle his fingers into yours. He places your hands above your head, making your back arch more, allowing him to hit that sweet spot inside you. You gasp, breath hitching.

His hips start to move slowly, pulling all the way out so you can feel every inch go back in.

"Robert, please." You whine. "Need you to cum inside me."

His pupils dialate even more than you thought was possible. A feral look in his eyes takes over as his pace picks up.

"I'm gonna cum fast." He warns, almost sheepishly.

"I take it as a compliment." You moan out, head rolling back as he continues his abuse on your cervix. A laugh bubbles in his chest which quickly gets replaced with a groan as he does exactly as he says and cums inside you.

3 minutes was a record but you really did take it as a compliment that you could make him lose composure so quickly.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He pants.

You can't help but laugh. "Its okay Bobby."

He shakes his head, pulling out. He stares in awe as a combination of yours and his fluid drips out on you onto the bed. "You need to cum again." was the only warning you got before he dove back down to your pussy, licking and sucking like his life depended on it.

From the previous orgasm just five minutes ago and the feeling of him inside you, you could feel the coil in the pit of your stomach begin to tighten.

"Oh my God, I love you so much." You cry. "So good."

Bob just moans in response, finding the discarded vibrator and immediately pressing it against your clit. It took him about two minutes and a spelling of his name with his tongue to get you cumming again.

He sucks up your release, before pressing a light hand around your throat. Your mouth opens slightly in shock and he takes the opportunity to spit everything into your mouth.

It was so hot, so messy, so vulgar. So unlike him.

After you swallowed, you stared up at him. He was so pretty it hurt. "What's gotten into you?" You chuckle. Not like it was a bad thing, you'd just never seen him so unhinged before.

"I don't know." He admits. "Roosters just announced his wifes pregnancy, I think that just got into my head a little."

You smile, running your hand across his cheek.

"Round two?"

[p3sephone]

My baby. (Dark! Ex! Wanda Maximoff x reader)

Prologue

Summary: you are Wanda's ex and you broke up with her a long time ago. Then Wanda decides it's a good idea to become your neighbor and take her baby back, one way or another.

Warnings: this is a dark! Serie about Wanda Maximoff that will contain dark themes such as violence, breaking in, non-con and similar stuff in the future chapters. Every chapter will have its own warnings to be safe. This is pure fiction and this character does not belong to me. Minors are NOT allowed, only +18. Any kind of interactions such as reblogs, comments or likes are much welcome and appreciated. 🤎

Prologue warnings: breaking inside, little use of magic.

"I'm home!" you exclaimed with a smile on your face, closing the door behind you. You were happy to be back, you had a wonderful surprise for your roommate. You were sure that she hadn't suspected anything, after all you hadn't mentioned anything in these weeks and you knew how difficult it was. You had lost count of how many gifts and surprises you had ruined because you often spoke before thinking out of excitement.

But this time you didn't think, as you walked briskly towards the living room. The lights were on, she was surely sitting there on the couch watching some movie. You were already anticipating the scene. Your smile quickly dropped as the gift bag slipped from your hand and fell to the floor. The personalized mug inside had surely broken into a thousand pieces, but that was now the least of your problems.

Your roommate was lying there, apparently asleep, but you knew that wasn't the case. Not when Wanda was sitting on the other side of the couch with her arms crossed, then looking straight into your eyes. She had a small smile on her face, sly and arrogant you would say, but you could see all the hatred hidden behind her eyes. You were together, as teenagers, a long time ago. Wanda had lost everything, you too: you had regained everything and left Wanda behind, and Wanda had lost what was left of her, left with total nothingness. Considering that you had left her too. Or at least, that was what Wanda thought; in reality, your version would have been very different from hers, but you weren't really sure she wanted to hear it and even less that she was interested. "What are you doing in my house?" your own cold tone surprised you. It was as if someone else was talking to you and you didn't know how your knees could still hold up. But Wanda wasn't stupid, she could feel how your heart was beating like crazy, this still allowed her to act arrogant. She stood up from your couch and walked over to your boyfriend’s sleeping form, approaching you and freely ignoring your question.

“Is this your house? Our apartment was better.” It was a suggestion, obviously. It wasn’t the first time Wanda had tried to make you change your mind and tell you that the two of you were meant to be together, and at first you believed it. The first, the second and even the third time. Then you finally realized that she would tell you anything and lie shamelessly just to have you back by her side and reduce you to an object again.

You had loved that woman, but it was over. And she had to understand that.

“No, this house is better, with my roommate who I sincerely hope will wake up soon.” You made a suggestion and she immediately took it, laughing in your face.

“She’ll be fine, I just put her to sleep... I wanted to be alone with you, I missed you.” she said playing with your hair, and you could almost see the sincerity in her now slightly sad face. But you couldn't fall for it again and you had certainly been through too much because of her.

"But I haven't missed you, Wanda. Get out of my house."

You had caught her attention now, her fingers slowly stopped playing with your hair finally letting it go. Now you saw the real Wanda. Her hateful gaze with a red aura was intensely scrutinizing you and you swore they could see much more than your eyes or your face. Her eyes immediately became clear again and Wanda gave you a sweet smile, waving her right hand and using her magic. You remembered what that magic had done to you, you still had the scars.

"I can also go out, after all we will see each other every day. It's a pleasure to meet you again, neighbor!" she teased you giggling, then walking out of your door without you even accompanying her. You stood there in shock, standing numb in the doorway to the living room, watching the front door close and then the couch, where your roommate was now starting to wake up.

The nightmare had begun again.

[butmakeitgayblog]

Also since we're here, i wanted to know your take one their final kiss (and posible prior ones) though since this one-shot will be smutty i guess you don't think this way but.

I've been seen a lot of people on (im so sorry) tiktok saying that rio stopped agatha from kissing her on episode...4(?) When she told her teen wasn't nicky bc she knew that her kiss would kill agatha, since the last one was the kiss of death, but I don't think every kiss of rio would be of death, y'know

So i guess my question is, do you think all of rio's kisses are the kiss of death, or just the final one in particular bc of the context?

Ok see this is yet another reason why we never 👏 listen 👏 to 👏 people 👏 on 👏 tiktok!

No, absolutely not. Rio didn't want Agatha to kiss her on The Road when she knew she was so emotionally uneven and just searching for some comfort. Not because she didn't want to give her comfort, but because she knew Agatha was not in the right frame of mind. Agatha, who is so strong and so willful and so independent, in that moment? Was barely hanging on by a thread. She was arguing with herself as to whether the twink Teen was Nicky and Rio could not have their first kiss after so long and so many fights be... that.

It had nothing to do with killing her. When you love someone, you don't take advantage of their vulnerability. So, she didn't.

What happened in the backyard after their fight was not Rio giving the kiss of death, it was Agatha using her succubus powers to take Rio's power, which she said from the beginning would kill her. She was actively drawing in the power and energy of death to poison herself. And Rio, god bless her black beating heart, realized what was happening and folded into it every bit as much as Agatha did.

Because they both realized it would be their last kiss. Not the first and only, but rather the last in several lifetimes worth of kisses. It was the crescendo of their love on this plain of existence, pouring themselves into the desperation of getting one final moment of each other. It was every kiss they'd not allowed themselves in all the years between Nicky and then. It was every kiss they'd shared in the shadows and along the riverbanks before everything fell apart, like it always so torturously does for them.

It was both of them saying 'if these are our final moments together, I want them spent knowing nothing but the taste and feel of you, my love... Because it's always been you.'

To even fathom that the way those two completely melted into each other and ebbed and flowed in the rhythm of that kiss was somehow the first time they'd been together is just... I'm sorry but it's naive. I'll say it! They knew the rhythm of each other's bodies and the exact slant of the other's lips. The give and take of breath, how their every muscle moved and hand caressed in a centuries old dance between them.

That was not the kiss of new loves mourning what could have been, but rather two lovers saying goodbye to a lifetime of never quite figuring out how to love each other more gently.

[ordinaryschmuck]

What I'm about to say comes from a guy who loves The Owl House and misses its existence every day:

I RESPECT THIS DECISION.

Imagine if Matt Groening didn't want to make anything other than The Simpsons. Or if Genndy Tartakovsky stopped after creating Dexter's Lab. Or if Craig McCracken hung up his hat after giving us The Powerpuff Girls. We would miss out on some fun, creative, and sometimes LIFE CHANGING shows that came after their first big creations.

A creator isn't just tied to one idea. EVERYBODY with an ounce of imagination can come up with MULTIPLE stories and multiple shows at once. Dana Terrace is very much allowed to explore what she's capable of and take the experience she has as a showrunner to make something that'll likely be even BETTER than The Owl House. And I'm all for that.

Would I absolutely love for The Owl House to come back? Yes. With every fiber of my being. But the show's done, and it's time to move on with whatever the future may have in store. If the show's creator can do it, so can you.

[ghostbird17]

y'know what we don't talk about enough?

Dick killing the Joker.

now i don't know all the details but i do know the basics; Tim was threatened (kidnapped?), Joker taunted Dick with Jason's death during this time, Dick basically goes apeshit on the guy. as he should! then Bruce brings him back because the dude has morals that no one else in his family does (except like Cass).

look i just wanna see Jason being told wayyy after his return about this. after the events of Under the Red Hood.

Jason, Bruce, and Tim are in the Batcave together. Jason and Bruce are arguing once more about the Joker being alive - Tim is minding his own business at the Batcomputer.

"Bruce, how many people are going to have to suffer before you agree with me? How many will have to die?!" Jason says, voice low and vicious as he points aggressively at Bruce's chest.

"Jason, I'm not backing down on this. We don't kill." Bruce responds with that same infuriating sentence.

"You don't! You don't kill! Not even for your own son!" Jason exclaims, throwing his hands in the air and turning to stomp several paces away.

"Dick did once," Tim pipes up absentmindedly, attention split between the case he's examining and the argument happening ten feet to his right.

Jason and Bruce both freeze. "Dick...what?" Jason asks, anger fading into more of a simmer as confusion takes its place.

Tim nods, glancing over. "Yeah, he killed the Joker once. Bruce brought him back."

Bruce levels Tim with a stern look. "Because we don't kill, we're better than that. Dick would've been overcome with guilt had I allowed that to be final."

"If that's what you want to think, sure, Bruce."

Jason slowly stopped listening. Dick had- what? Why? How- when?!

He was marching over to his bike before he had fully registered the movements.

"Jason! Where are you going?" Bruce called, moving as if to follow him.

"Out, don't follow me, old man!" Jason snapped, quickly pulling his helmet on and starting his bike before tearing out of the cave.

He had an older brother to question now.

listen i just think it'd be really interesting, everyones reactions to this, the ways it could come up, etc. this is just a way i quickly came up with, i need more fics and such of this plot!

bonus if someone finds a good way to include that one version where Superman had to stop Bruce from killing the Joker instead - i'd absolutely love seeing that too, together or seperate!

[pokemonshelterstories]

hey! do you have any ideas on how to get my family to see that I don't want a pokemon? pretty much all of my family members have at least one of two pokemon and recently they've been pestering me about getting one. I know they're just worried about me (I recently moved out on my own and I am admittedly kind of bad about getting enough human contact so I think they think that a pokemon would be good for me) but I honestly have enough trouble keeping myself + my plants alive. I wouldn't want to take in a pokemon without being sure that I would be able to take care of them properly. lately they've been getting more pushy about it, and I'm getting kind of worried they're going to try and gift one to me. I would feel bad about rehoming or giving up whatever pokemon they give me, so I'd prefer to stop this whole thing before it gets to that point. any advice?

i think the best thing to do in this situation is to be completely honest with them and let them know that, if they give you a pokemon, you're going to take it to a shelter ASAP. don't give any room for doubt by saying things like "i probably won't keep it" or indicate that it would depend on how difficult the pokemon is to care for. make it very clear that, no matter what pokemon it is, it's getting rehomed. that may sound harsh to say to family members, but the clearer you are from the start, the less likely that you'll be saddled with a pokemon you have to find a home for. if you live in an apartment, invent a rule about pokemon not being allowed if you have to.

you can always tell them that you'll ask them for advice on what would be good first-time pokemon when you're ready to own one, if you want to soften the blow a little bit. but when it comes to taking care of a living being, you're right that you should be as prepared for it as possible, especially given the capabilities some "beginner-friendly" pokemon have. even starter pokemon handed out to some new trainers have the ability to do things like start fires or damage furniture with plant growth! and pokemon's needs are so widely varied that you really can't go into caring for one blind and expect that it'll go well. as for your family...it seems like they really do mean well. maybe you can help ease their worries about you by talking about some hobbies you've picked up or some other form of self-care you're doing?

[only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are]

Redwood Psychiatric Institute - Part 7

MASTERLIST - PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4 - PART 5 - PART 6

CWs: THIS IS A HEAVY ONE PLEASE READ THESE AND PROCEED WITH CAUTION - medical gaslighting, ECT mentions, disordered eating, forced NG tube (nasogastric) intubation, description of forced intubation, IV cannula, forced drugging

"I know you're lying to me." James ground out.

"James, you are ill. You are schizophrenic, and you have trouble telling reality from hallucination. I am your doctor, and I know what is best for you. And right now, what's best is for you to continue your treatments here."

"No, no, none of this is can be real, I'm - my name isn't James, it's- it's-" James stuttered. His hand trembled in the straight jacket he had been restrained in. "Why, why can't I remember?" His unruly dark hair obscured his wide eyes, pupils dilated from the medications.

"You're making things worse for yourself, James. Take a deep breath, and take some more medications. It'll make you feel much better." Doctor Wilson held out a wax paper cup filled with pills.

James shook his head as he backed into the padded wall of his room. "No, get them away from me. AWAY!" He began to scream, and realising he was trapped there rendered his flight instinct inert, he began to rock back and forth on his heels in a desperate attempt to soothe himself.

"James. Calm down. You are being dramatic. You need to take a deep breath."

James began to attempt to tear himself free from the straight jacket to no avail, letting out a frustrated animalistic cry.

"Why-"

"You can take a nice long nap and calm down." Doctor Wilson put the cup down, realising James wasn't going to let himself be soothed easily. The doctor instead pulled a hypodermic syringe out, and the boy began to scream.

"Can I have some assistance?" He called to the orderlies standing outside the cell. They rushed in, effortlessly pinning James to the floor. The orderlies pulled James' pants down to allow the Doctor access to his patient's bottom. Doctor Wilson swiftly jabbed the hypodermic into the muscle, earning him an indignant cry.

"No.. no.." James stuttered, as they pulled away from him. He attempted to pull himself to his feet, but tripped over himself, the drug already leaving him unsteady and out of it.

"Sh, my boy." Doctor Wilson soothed, helping his patient onto the bed. "You can rest now."

James eyelids, with his pupils blown wide, slowly drifted shut as he slumped over on the bed.

----

When James awoke, he decided to make a plan. He didn't trust Doctor Wilson anymore. There were gaps in his memory, and things that just didn't make sense.

And he was sure that his name wasn't really James - but what was it then?

He started by figuring out how to stop his meds. The nurses would check that he had taken them. He started crushing one or two in the side of his jaw, and swallowing the rest. The crushed pills were small enough that they weren't super noticeable, and as long as the nurses didn't see whole pills leftover. Once they left, he'd spit out the crushed tablets. Eliminating one or two of the medications certainly help to clear up his fatigue and drowsiness, but he had other symptoms instead - headaches, fevers, sore eyes. He just had to deal with it. He needed to stop the medication more.

Then, he stopped eating. Just in case the food was also drugged. But he also did it as a protest. He wanted to show Doctor Wilson that he was still in control. It started with a sausage here, some oatmeal there. He would just cut down gradually, and one one would notice until it was too late.

----

"For the last time James, eat up." The orderly, Dan, sighed as the boy pushed his tray away from him.

"'Mm not hungry." James muttered.

"You're being stubborn. You haven't eaten in 4 days. Eat up, or I'll have no choice but to call Doctor Wilson."

James didn't look up. "Don't care."

"Fine. I give up." The orderly picked up the walkie talkie hanging from his white scrubs. "Doctor Wilson, James is refusing to eat again and he's refusing meds."

"Take him to Treatment Room 2. I'll meet you there." The Doctor commanded.

The burly orderly bent down and scooped up James in one arm.

"Dan, please, please don't do this!" James began to sob.

He screamed and kicked, but he was a fairly scrawny young man, and with the lack of food, he was no match for the orderly, who dragged him down the hall with ease.

"Here." The orderly tapped his keycard on the door reader, and pushed the door open, revealing an exam table reminiscent of a dentist's chair. He place James onto the table, and began to strap him using the standard medical restraints, straps at his forehead, wrists, chest, hips, legs and ankles.

"Let me go!!" James screamed, fighting against the restraints with all the strength he had left. "You can't do this!!"

"I'm sorry buddy. It's for your own good." The orderly patted his forehead.

Doctor Wilson stepped into the room and locked eyes with James. Dan immediately backed away, planting himself in the corner of the room.

To the doctor, Jamess looked absolutely feral, his eyes red raw from crying and sleep deprivation, his hair greasy and unkempt, and his frame thin and wiry.

"Oh James, I was so hoping it wouldn't come to this." Doctor Wilson tutted, as he walked up the exam chair. He tilted James' chin, examining the boy's face closer. "You're sneaking off your meds, too." He said - a statement, not a question. "You had been doing so well.. All that progress we've achieved. Gone."

Doctor Wilson sighed, then nodded to the orderly, who began to set up a cart with medical tools and devices. Both men snapped on nitrile gloves and then pulled on medical masks.

"What are you doing?" James asked in a high-pitched tone, clearly frightened.

"Getting you back to health, my boy." Doctor Wilson smiled sadly behind the mask. "Clearly you can't be trusted to do the right thing for yourself."

Dan unpackaged a sterile butterfly needle, which he passed to the Doctor. The orderly wiped down James' elbow with an alcohol wipe, then tied a rubber band above the area. Doctor Wilson brought the needle to James' vein, and the boy whimpered.

"Relax James, you're in good hands." Doctor Wilson hushed, before sliding the needle into the vein.

It smarted, and James winced, looking away as a drop of blood bubbled up from the wound. The Doctor removed the needle and replaced it with tubing, setting up an IV which he hooked to a bag of solution on a stand. James looked to the bag as the solution began to drip through the tubing into his vein.

"What's in there?" He asked weakly.

The Doctor ignored him, and instead began to pull more tubing out from packaging. He held it up and measured it in front of James' face, who squirmed uncomfortably against the strap across his forehead. The Doctor then covered the tip in some kind of gel, held the tube under James' left nostril, and before he could react, the tube was being shoved up his nostril.

Shocked, James began to try to wrest his head away, but the restraints held tight, even as the tube slid further and further up his nose, down the back of his throat, and further, further down. James couldn't help but cough and gag on the tubing, the foreign sensation awfully unwelcome in his system. Even when he thought it couldn't possibly go any further, it did. Finally, finally, it was over. He drew in choked, panicked breaths through his mouth as his body was wracked with silent gasping sobs.

"All done." Doctor Wilson said, his voice void of any care or emotion for his patient. The orderly stepped up and helped the doctor tape the other end of the tube against James' cheek, then attached the tubing to a container sitting on the IV pole, which was filled with an odd liquid. Before long, the liquid began to trickle through the tube and down his nostril. He shuddered at the horrible sensation of the cold liquid sliding down the tube, straight into his stomach.

Doctor Wilson then adjusted the settings on the IV. "Get some sleep. You'll need it."

The Doctor left. Dan stayed for a moment, making sure the Doctor was out of sight before he bent down to whisper in James' ear. "I'm sorry it had to come to that. But you left me with no choice.." He wiped a tear from James' cheek. "Get your rest while you can."

Dan stood, and with a sad sigh, shut the door behind him as he left the room.

James was left in silence. He stared up at the cieling, the odd tear slipping down his cheek, James felt his head becoming cloudy. His limbs felt light, as though they weren't tethered to his body anymore. He was floating. His eyelids however, were heavy as lead. The longer he stared, the harder it was to stay awake, and before long, his consciousness faded and he slipped into darkness.

Taglist:

@jazatronasmr @onthishamsterwheel @bumpthumpwhump @bloodsweatandpotato @whatiswhump @jancameforthewhump @dream-whump @ratking-whump @inkstainsonmyhands12 @halsteadshaw13 @sparrowsage @sowhumpful @whatwhumpcomments @caspersdelusion @everythingsscary

[mrchoppedslefthand]

Homicipher Random Headcanons/Scenarios [NSFW]

I desperately needed to post the random head canons and scenarios of our husbands that my brain kept cooking up (+ some from discord friends), so the list is not organized. Also, since we shape shift, I'm going to assume we can choose whenever we have a cock or pussy (because I want to be fucked and do the fucking) Anyways...enjoy the food thought.

Characters: Mr. Crawling, Mr. Chopped Mr. Silvair, Mr. Hood, Mr. Gap, Mr. Machete, Mr. Scarletella

Warnings: mentions of NSFW, mentions of some canon-typical violence, implications of dubcon, mentions of somnophilia, implied cuckold

Mr. Crawling

He can be submissive top. Constantly asking you if you love him during intimacy. He would ask if you enjoy playing with him as you pound yourself onto him. He would be a moaning mess and probably wouldn't know what to do about it as he clumsily places his hands around your waist.

He would definitely eat you out without you asking once intimacy had been initiated.

Afraid of hurting you, he wouldn't be too rough, instead he would be more tender and gentler when it comes to intimacy.

He definitely would love it when you play with his hair, allowing you to braid it or do whatever as long it doesn't involve cutting his precious hair.

He actually gets jealous easily, but he doesn't verbalize it, instead he shows it through his actions.

He is better with his hands, than his cock. So sometimes you prefer that over his cock. His cock is more on the average/smaller side and it's cute.

He definitely has a praise kink.

Mr. Chopped

He lacks a body, so to make up for it he is extremely expressive and open with his feelings. Which makes him a little fun to bully, to see all those cute expressions he could make.

He probably would be very good with his mouth and tongue, let him be your personal rose toy/fleshlight if you will. He can't fight back and have no choice but to whimper about it.

Imagine getting sick and fainting with him nearby, he can't move or do anything but helplessly cry for you to wake up and starts crying out help for Mr. Silvair to come help him and you.

Maybe one day, for a day of tricks and pranks. Mr. Stitch will allow Mr. Chopped a day in his body, so they swap places, stitching Mr. Chopped in place of Mr. Stitch's head. It had been a very long time since Mr. Chopped felt sensations beyond his head, so he happens to be very sensitive and clumsy with his hands. Everywhere you touch overwhelms him, he melts and becomes a moaning mess, but Mr. Chopped isn't the only one feeling all these sensations. Mr. Stitch can still feel it too. He is intrigued by today's type of play.

He definitely would be more on the whiny and needy side when it comes to pleasure, he lacks a body, but he can still feel lust. He can't do anything about it, which makes him extremely needy and extra pouty.

Mr. Silvair

Definitely would have had intimacy with other ghosts/humans before to research the body and performance during mid transformation if it differed.

Imagine one day he finds a mysterious liquid that fell from the 'other world' and feeds it to you, himself and the other ghosts in your crew. Only to find out it was an aphrodisiac. It was the first time he felt such a strong sensation of lust. At first, he mistakes this strong desire to be violence, so he starts to self-inflict wounds onto himself. You attempt to stop him, but soon find yourself to be underneath him as he bites into your neck, drawing blood. Surprised at seeing the often-composed man, turning into a ravage beast. You somehow manage to find something to tie him up and have your way with him.

He probably likes overstimulation on you...but also himself. He would love to research on how much his body can go and handle.

He would actually be a switch, for research purposes. To take and give he'd do anything for research. It had been long long ago since his body used to be human, and he often forgets about his own experiences if he doesn't write them down, but no worries, he has you by his side now to keep remembering.

Mr. Hood

He is quiet but speaks whenever he finds it suited for. But if you need him, he would be happy to talk with you.

He is a bit insecure about his body, he doesn't have arms or hands or even legs, he is an entity of nothing. The clothes are what shape his form, and well maybe he not entirely a entity of nothing. You had a glimpse before, a small glimpse and sensation of a squishy and somewhat slimy part that had belonged to him. You never mentioned though, but if it was you'd love him still anyways.

He realized that some words had been a bit harder for you to keep in mind and remember and so he thought of a special way to get you learning. Learning with what humans call pleasure. He fucks you and asks you what certain things are, and if you get it wrong, he denies you from coming. You have become determined to learn your words properly even more so now. Because if you remember you get rewarded with the most absolute fulfilling fuck of your life.

Since most of his body is invisible or nothing. If you mouth fucked him you would be able to see that real good, it is strangely erotic watching your cock move inside his mouth.

Mr. Gap

When you're sleeping, sometimes he might just cuddle against your leg or lower half. He loves the feeling of warmth, compared to his hollow darkness.

He definitely seems like the type of person to eat you out while you're asleep. Playing around and waiting for you to wake up to watch your reaction. Of course, he would only do this though if he knew you'd allow it. He values consent.

Imagine taking your backpack to school and you have to take out a pencil for a test. When you open your backpack, you realize it is just an empty void and hear a voice asking for your heart in exchange for the pencil. Yeah... you accepted your fate. You just failed your exam...

When you become a moaning mess under him, he can't understand but he knows that from your sweet voice, and moans, that it's a good thing. He knows to keep continuing.

Mr. Machete

We would wonder aimlessly for an eternity together searching for his/your home. But eventually our subconscious would recognize each other as home instead.

He would definitely mock and laugh at how fast you would falter/melt under his touch. Calling you "weak" for coming so fast but would give kisses here and there after the mocking.

He'd probably be into throat fucking and laugh at you looking pathetic, he loves reactions that aren't boring, so seeing you choke on his cock seems like a great idea.

He definitely would come inside most of the time.

When he fucks you, his cock would probably bulge out a little from your stomach, fascinated by it he'd roughly press his hand down near that area.

He is our beefy dumb macho, perfect.

If you mouth/fucked him he would tell you he feels nothing, but his eyes would already be red and tearing. He's a pathetic coward.

Mr. Scarletella

He belongs to you, and you belong to him, together forever, in a hellish world. He loves the destruction you bring into his life and does the same for you.

Oh boy, he would absolutely devour you, his queen, in pleasure. Fuck you stupid to the point you're just a blabbering mess, hands on waist, and long fingers in your mouth, as he pounds deeply into you.

He seems like the type of guy to fuck you during your period.

Definitely gets jealous easily and he makes it know when he gets that way.

Imagine your fucked/fucking another ghost and you hear static within the distance, the sound slowly starts to come closer and closer until you hear the static in the room. Your crimson servant arrives and witnesses your fantastic display of intimacy. Jealous, he kills them and becomes extra possessive and quite terrifying, but you love it so much. How he seems so lost and pathetic without you.

You don't know his name, but neither does he know yours. Despite this disconnect, you still manage to give him some sort of other named to be called. It's connected to your name, but he knows it's not all of it, he can't fully whisk you away, but he's okay with that. You are still bound to him for an eternity anyway.

If Mr. Scarletella went back to the human world with you instead, he would appear to be the one most suited for fitting in. Just slack some foundation on his face, make him wear gloves and he would blend in quite well. Well...except for his odd habit of asking every stranger for their name and laughing and giggling crazily each time.

He would have a praise and degradation kink, he's not a whore. He's YOUR whore. He likes being YOURS.