#and ANOTHER ONE but somebody in the crowd is IN THE WAY I CAN ONLY SEE THE HEAD OF THE GUITAR BOING | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joelscruff · 1 year ago

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truth or dare (joel miller x f!reader) 18+

notification blog | kofi | in honor of my bestie han @swiftispunk who recently celebrated her birthday (and in honor of spooky season starting 🎃) i thought i'd step outside the boundaries of what i usually write and try something new. i'd also like to give a huge shoutout to @toxicanonymity whose entire masterlist greatly influenced my desire to try something like this. please heed the warnings!!! and as i said this is my first time writing anything like this so pls be kind 🫠

summary: a harmless game of truth or dare ends with you tied up in a certain mysterious neighbor's garage. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: dubcon (reader is given a choice to leave, but not immediately), dark!joel, age gap (reader is college age, joel is in his fifties), unprotected p in v sex, use of restraints, ropes, spanking, degradation, sir kink, dirty talk (use of 'little girl' as a pet name), face fucking, rough sex, creampie, brief anal play, humiliation, inappropriate use of a household item (he puts a flashlight up her cooch), marking (with a sharpie), size kink (joel is much bigger than reader and can lift her), pls lemme know if i forgot anything word count: 8.3k

Your palms are sweaty, fingers sticking to your skin as you stand at the edge of the property with goosebumps already blooming along your flesh. The air is chilly, that end of summer evening air flooding your nostrils as a car drives past through streams of leftover rainwater, headlights blurring your vision for a moment. It passes quickly and you're alone again, standing on the street corner with a mixture of anticipation and dread filling your trembling body.

Everything had been fine about twenty minutes ago. A typical party with your hometown friends, one last hurrah before everyone splits off for the third year in a row to go back to their respective colleges, back to long lectures and underwhelming frat boys. It had gone the same way it always does when you get together - shots, secrets, schemes. No end of summer party could ever be complete without a game of truth or dare, not for your crowd anyway.

It had started simple. "Which one of us had the best glow-up this year?" "I dare you to text the last guy you slept with." "What's the kinkiest thing you've done with somebody?" "I dare you to show us the last nude someone sent you." Typical borderline adolescent challenges, things you all still followed through with despite being too old for the game - it's the principle of it, to indulge and pretend, if only for a little while, that life is as simple as it once was.

"Who's the last person you had a sex dream about?"

You'd twisted your hands awkwardly in your lap, felt heat rush to the apples of your cheeks. Usually a question like this wouldn't make you hesitate, but the subject of the answer had been a slightly embarrassing one. As soon as the name Joel Miller had fallen from your lips, you'd been met with screams and squeals and excited chatter from every direction.

"He's so fucking creepy though," one of your friends had said with wide eyes, palm over her mouth, "He gives off serial killer vibes."

"Oh please, he's not that bad," another had chimed in, "He's just a loner, kinda mysterious. I see the vision."

"Are we forgetting the part where he's old as hell? Dude must be in his fifties, at least."

"But that means experience."

"It could also mean limp dick."

"You guys are disgusting," you'd moaned, leaning back on your hands, "It was one dream, let's move on."

And they had. Briefly. Until it was once again your turn and they'd all rounded on you with cheshire cat grins and glinting stares. You should have known what was coming when you chose Dare.

"I dare you to go over to his house."

You'd resisted, of course. The dare itself didn't even make much sense; what were you meant to do? Go over and ding-dong-ditch his front door like a twelve year old boy? But it had only snowballed from there, all five girls tossing in their own thoughts and ideas, talking and giggling over each other. "She should ask him on a date." "She should just flirt a little bit, see how he reacts." "She could see how far she can get with him, maybe?" "Oh shit, that's good."

You could have always said no - there was no way any of them could force you to do it, even if it would have ended the party abruptly with grumbled complaints and a slammed door. But the more they talked the more you found yourself listening, letting the concept sink in, the images of the dream you'd had the other night flooding to the front of your mind. Mysterious and elusive Joel Miller, big hands covered in the motor oil he uses to tinker with his truck, trailing his messy fingers between the swells of your breasts...

They'd managed to convince you just by the reminder alone, though also due to the fact that they'd each tossed in a twenty dollar bill and stated that simply getting a kiss on the cheek would warrant a win. The prospect was intriguing; it would be a testament to your own desirability, your game. How far can you get with your quiet neighbor who probably hasn't touched a woman in years? Who'll probably fold the second he realizes someone as young and beautiful as you is interested in him?

"I'll do it," you'd said with a smirk, rising from the hardwood, "How hard can it be?"

Harder than you thought, apparently. Because now you stand a few feet from Joel Miller's house, loitering soundlessly at the edge of his front lawn, hesitating. The sun has gone down, turning the hedges along the side of his property into frighteningly tall shadows, dark and menacing. A light breeze flows past and you wrap yourself tighter in your well-worn maroon cardigan, shivering, staring at your boots and wondering if you can really bring yourself to do this.

It'll be so humiliating if he rejects your advances. On the other hand, will it somehow be less-so if he returns your flirtatiousness and you then have to reject him once you've gotten what you came for? How will that make you look? You're not even really sure why you care - probably because the man has done nothing to you whatsoever, nothing that would warrant such a foolish prank as this being played on him. It makes you feel bad, in a way. As much as you and your friends make fun of him, he really is just a man who keeps to himself - perhaps this is going too far.

You notice light flickering nearby, a reflection of fluorescents in the puddles of his driveway. You figured he'd be in his garage - it's where he spends most of his time, bent over the exposed hood of the truck he's seemingly been working on ever since he moved in at the beginning of the summer. You've never seen him drive it, never even seen him leave the property, but you've passed by the house on more than one occasion. You've seen the way he rolls up the sleeves of his flannel, forearms splattered black and grey, expression focused on the task at hand while sweat drips from his greying temples.

Having a sex dream about him really shouldn't have been that shocking, now that you think about it. The man is a mystery, sure, but he isn't ugly by any means.

You swallow down your qualms, picturing the faces of your friends more than likely smooshed against the living room window a few houses back, watching. As soon as you turn the corner, you'll disappear from view, obstructed by the hedges and the sudden darkness of night. You take one more deep breath, one last burst of chilly evening air into your lungs, and accept your fate.

He doesn't notice you walking up his driveway, taking slow and meager steps as you assess the open garage, the truck with its hood popped as usual, the flickering of the florescent lights hanging from the ceiling. He doesn't notice you, but you notice him. You spot a pair of steel toed boots and long denim clad legs sticking out from underneath the truck, hear the clink and clang of metal against metal while he tinkers with something down there, unseen. As you reach the garage it becomes apparent that you still have one last chance to end this before it begins, turn around and take the loss.

But you don't.

"Excuse me," you offer in a weak voice, teetering nervously at the edge of the garage door, neither inside nor out - neutral ground.

The clinking stops, replaced by the steady pounding of your heart in your chest, the heaviness of your breathing. You try to loosen your hands from their fisted forms and unclench your fingers, focusing on the stretch of flesh and bone while the legs beneath the car slowly begin to inch forward. He's not laying on any type of support, one of those wheeled contraptions you've seen other people use - no, he's simply got his back to the ground, a back and body that's slowly coming into view.

His black and green flannel rides up where he's been laying on it, as well as the grey t-shirt he wears beneath; as he slides out from under the car you spot a bare sliver of skin just above his waistband, a patch of hair that trails down into his jeans. A lump forms in your throat. When he finally peeks his head out, you swallow around it and try to remember to breathe.

Greying hair slicked back behind his ears, cheekbones smeared slightly with something black, scruff lining a strong yet soft jawline, a plump bottom lip, and those eyes... dark brown, almost black. It's the face that's practically been haunting you all summer, whether you want to admit it to yourself or not.

His brow furrows as soon as he sees you, "Can I help you?"

It's not the first time you've heard him talk, but it's certainly the first time he's ever spoken directly to you. His accent is stronger than you remember, words slipping smoothly past his lips like butter as he eyes you from the floor of his garage, knees up, hands still hidden in the darkness. A few seconds pass before you realize he's asked you a question.

"Oh, um-" You haven't thought this through very far, that's for sure. What the fuck do you even say? You take a breath and remind yourself that you're good at this, have seduced your fair share of frat boys in the past two years with minimal effort and have never heard the word no. Sure, Joel Miller isn't a frat boy - far from it - but underneath his cold exterior he's still very much a man, and very much capable of falling under the spell of a beautiful woman. You hope, anyway.

"I was just taking a walk," you lie, "Saw your light on, thought I'd come say hi."

He stares at you blankly, like he's unsure exactly how he's supposed to respond - or perhaps he's already seeing through your façade. You take a step into his garage, poised at the edge as you lean casually against the opening.

"Honestly, um-" you push some hair behind your ear and attempt to look shy, though it's not a huge jump from how you're actually feeling, "I've been meaning to talk to you, before I go back to college."

At your words he raises an eyebrow and slowly brings his hands downwards, palms pressing flat against the dark concrete. You watch as he eases himself up and out from under the truck, and god he's tall - tall and broad and huge compared to you, a fact that sends a little flutter into your belly. He takes a step toward the work bench against the wall, eyes still on you as he reaches down and picks up a rag to wipe his hands, big and wide and streaked with oil. You remember your dream and feel a twinge in your underwear.

"Talk to me about what?" he asks, massaging the rag against his fingers.

You shrug as nonchalantly as you can, taking another step inside his garage, closer to where he stands at the work bench. You cross your legs in an attempt to show them off, stretching your ankle toward a spare tire on the floor and accentuating the sheerness of your black tights, the little run that splits the material at the inside of your knee, the hint of bare skin that peeks out beneath.

"Nothing in particular," you say, keeping your voice soft and steady but doing your best to keep that shy girlishness present, "Just... wanted to." You peer up at him from under your lashes and bite your lip, then reach out your hand for him to take. You say your name.

He assesses your hand but doesn't take it, brow still furrowed. "Joel," he replies, "And I'm a bit preoccupied at the moment. Don't really have time to talk." His voice is cold and gruff, absolutely no sign of interest or attraction - dammit.

"What're you doing?" you ask, tilting your head.

He continues to stare at you blankly, "What does it look like I'm doin'?"

Okaaaay, then.

You shrug again and take another step, turning to look at the wall next to you. Tools line the shelves, wrenches and screwdrivers and the like dangling rather precariously here and there, smeared in motor oil and dust. It's a mess but you'd be willing to bet that it's organized chaos, that he likes it this way.

"What's this?" you ask, pointing to a particularly large object, something that looks like a mixture between a pair of scissors and a wrench.

"Bolt cutters," he supplies you monotonously.

"Ohh," you say with a nod, leaning a bit into the confused pretty girl stereotype and hoping maybe he's a sucker for it, "And what's that?" You point toward a small cylindrical object, black and tactical, only a few inches long.

"You never seen a flashlight before?"

Oh. Right. "Woops," you giggle, "Sorry."

You turn your face to look at him sheepishly and he's still watching you, big arms now crossed against his broad chest - impatient. Well, this is clearly not working either. He's frowning, eyes so focused on your face that you feel almost naked beneath it, like he's staring into your soul. You clear your throat awkwardly and tug your bottom lip between your teeth, breaking your own gaze away from him and trying to find something else to comment on.

"So you've been working on your truck," you state, gesturing toward the vehicle as if only just noticing it was even there, "What's - uh - what's wrong with it?"

He's clearly not buying into whatever the fuck you're even trying to sell. He remains silent, eyes still on you, and suddenly it's like you've never even interacted with a man before - and to be honest, maybe you haven't. Frat boys are certainly not men by any means, and nowhere near in the same league as Joel Miller by a long shot, probably almost triple their age with a dark and mysterious aura that feels almost suffocating. He just stares at you, slightly unnerving, but also seductive in its own way, almost like he's challenging you.

"What do you want?" he asks blankly.

"I-I told you," your voice is already faltering, losing its flirtatious edge the more you realize how dumb of an idea this was, "I just wanted to talk to you."

"Yeah, I got that," he says stiffly, "Why?"

You've already exhausted the avenues you thought might work, which means you've got one last chance before he sends you packing. With bated breath you take the final few steps toward him and - averting your gaze - you reach your hand out to touch his forearm with your fingertips. It's feather light, but you're suddenly very aware of the goosebumps that rise on his freckled flesh, the way the thick hair on his arms seems to stand on end the second your skin touches his. Okay, now we're getting somewhere.

"I think you're handsome," you murmur softly, feeling warmth rush to your cheeks when you realize that it's not a lie. And it really isn't. As your gaze gradually tilts up you catch a glimpse of the hair on his chest, peeking out from under his grey t-shirt. You spot his pecs beneath the fabric of his flannel, see the throbbing veins in his neck, the coarseness of his scruff, the sharp curve of his nose, and those fucking eyes - looking at you with a darkness, a lust, that wasn't there before.

He's not just handsome; he's fucking gorgeous.

"What're you doin'?" he asks you, that gruffness still present but being taken over by something else, something darker.

"Nothing," you breathe, still trailing your fingers along his forearm until they reach its apex and dip into the soft part behind his elbow, damp with sweat. You swallow, throat going dry as you stroke his skin with your thumb.

"Doesn't feel like nothin'," his voice is quieter, matching yours, and he tilts his head slightly as he continues to stare into your eyes, "Why're you really here, sweetheart?"

Sweetheart. The word sends a burst of warmth to your chest, a smile to your lips. You unlock your eyes from his bashfully, watching your own movements as you trail your fingers back down toward his hand and wrap them around one of his fingers, so thick compared to your own. You squeeze gently, biting your lip again as you peer back up at him. Here it is. Moment of truth. You tilt your head up slightly, eyelashes fluttering as you lean forward to connect your lips with his.

Except, they don't connect.

Instead he pulls his hands away from you, brings them upwards and wraps them around your upper arms, squeezing tightly. Your eyes widen, confusion flooding your features.

"Turn around and bend over."

"W-what?" Shock doesn't even begin to describe the ice cold feeling that now makes its way through your body, edged with something else - something you can't explain.

"Turn around," he repeats, his big hands squeezing your arms even tighter - relentless, firm - as he peers down at you with a dark hunger in his eyes, glinting black beneath the fluorescents, "And bend over."

He does not give you another chance to obey - you're too frozen in surprise and confusion to do anything yourself. Instead, he uses the force of his weight on your arms to spin you on the spot, shoving you against the work bench. You feel one of his hands move from your arm to your back, pushing hard until you fold, warm cheek coming to rest against the cold wood.

"Wh-what are you doing?" your voice is meager, weak, and you feel him wrap one of his hands around both your wrists like it's nothing, pinning them against your back like they're simply twigs in his wide palm.

"What you're clearly fuckin' beggin' for," he replies gruffly, and you feel his other hand at your skirt, feel the brush of his fingertips at the hem as he reaches upward to grip the band of your tights. Your eyes widen and instinctively you pull back, pull away - he just pushes you back down.

"I'm not-" you begin, shock quickly being replaced with fear when you realize how easily overpowered you are, how fluidly he's able to tug down your tights and expose your ass to him, clad in only a black thong already lost between your cheeks.

"Oh, you're not, huh?" his voice is cold and stoic, angry, "You think you can play games with me, little girl?" His hand comes to rest against the swell of your behind and you suddenly feel his breath above you, hot in your ear, "Tell me why you're really here."

You try to lift your head up to look at him better but he just shoves you back down again. Panic floods your body, mixed with the unmistakable burn of arousal. You feel yourself twitch in your underwear, feel a sudden gush of warmth spill inside the fabric as he begins to trail his finger up and down the thin line of black cotton.

"I-I'm..." You're at a complete loss for words, unable to articulate anything, unsure of what exactly is happening - or about to happen. Two minutes ago you'd been sure he was about to tell you to leave, practically kick you out of the garage himself, and now you're not sure leaving is even a possibility.

He pulls his hand back and you cry out when it comes down to slap against one of your cheeks, a sharp sting and burn you hadn't been anticipating.

"Tell me why you're here," he repeats - authoritarian, firm.

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out except a frightened squeak, something which clearly eggs him on even more. He spanks you again, harder this time, palm flat and wide against your pebbled flesh. The sound that slips past your lips is somehow akin to a moan of some sort, guttural and deep.

"I'll just make it harder and harder, sweetheart," he says then, and the pet name no longer contains the warmth it did mere moments ago; instead it's cold and detached, mocking. You're still reeling when his hand comes down to slap against you again, even harder this time, and your hands ball into fists behind your back as you let out another low moan. More slick gushes into your panties and it's impossible to deny that somehow, despite the fear twinging in your heart, you're so fucking turned on.

"M-my friends," you gasp out, and you feel him squeeze your abused ass cheek which you're sure is already dark with his handprint, "They- they dared me to see how far I c-could get with you."

He lets your words sink in for a moment, squeezing again - tighter, so tight that it hurts. You whimper against the wooden top of the work bench, legs shaking.

"So you came here to get fucked," he finally states.

"N-no, I swear, I-"

"Wasn't a question," he interrupts, and you feel his other hand tighten around your wrists, "You came here to get fucked so you're gonna get fucked, end of story."

"But I-"

Without any warning he suddenly pushes himself up against you from behind, the rough denim of his jeans pressing deliciously up against your exposed skin. You gasp, eyes going wide when you feel the long, thick shape of his dick between your cheeks, huge and hard. He holds it there, his free hand coming down to lay flat beside your head against the work bench.

"You feel that?" he asks, voice suddenly quieter but still full of that ice cold malice, "You feel that cock?"

Fuck. "Y-yes," you breathe, "I feel it."

"You have five seconds before i close this door and stuff you full, understand?" Suddenly all you can hear is the heavy sound of his breathing, the panting of your own, the thud of your heart where it presses painfully against the wood. He's giving you an out.

"I- I-" you swallow, brows furrowing when you feel his hand slacken around your wrists. You could pull away now, yank yourself out of his grasp and sprint down his driveway, return to your friends. Forget this ever even happened.

It's your last chance.

"Five," he begins, breath warm against your face.

Run. Just run.

"Four."

But why?

"Three."

Why don't you want to run?

"Two."

Why do you want to stay?

"One."

He pulls his hand up from the work bench and hits a button on the wall, eliciting a loud mechanical noise to your left as the garage door starts to close. You watch with wide eyes as your chance to leave slowly vanishes inch by inch until it's gone completely, and yet no part of you itches to run, to escape. There's nothing to escape from, you realize. You want to be here. You want him to fuck you.

As the reality of your situation starts to settle, his grip around your wrists tightens once again. You sense him reaching up somewhere above you, and you suddenly feel the harsh texture of what feels like thickly braided rope wrapping around your wrists. The realization that he's restraining you sends another pool of release into your panties, another faint squeak past your lips.

"You gonna stay still for me?" he asks, voice dark and clearer now in the silence of his garage, no sounds of rain or cars to disrupt you, "Huh? You gonna be a good girl?"

"Yes," you breathe, nodding against the wood.

"Say it."

"I'm gonna stay still," you promise, "I'm gonna be a good girl."

He finishes knotting the rope around your wrists, tight and uncomfortable against your skin. He pushes his groin up against your ass again, brings his now free hands downward to reach through your cardigan and squeeze your breasts. Your nipples are hard beneath the soft cotton of your shirt, no bra between the layer of material and your bare skin; he tweaks them in his fingers and you shudder.

"These are mine," he whispers in your ear, scruff nuzzling against the side of your face, "These tits, this ass," he drops his hands from your breasts to squeeze your cheeks again, "and this pussy." His hand drops to the puffy shape of your lips beneath your thong and you whimper. "Understand?"

"Y-yes."

"Yes, what?"

You're not sure what he's asking for, what he wants you to say. You take a guess. "Yes, sir," you whisper, and you feel him smile against your ear. Bingo.

He doesn't bother to pull your tights down the rest of the way; instead, he rips them, pulling them apart in his big hands and reaching inside to curl his index finger around the thin strip of your thong. He pulls it - hard - and it rips from you with a rough tearing sound and a painful sting, eliciting a loud gasp from you which he rewards with another spank.

You feel his finger slip between your lips for a moment, gathering some of your release before he pulls it away. "Juicy fuckin' pussy," he mutters, and you hear the sound of his zipper coming undone, vulgar in the quiet room. You have no time to ask about protection, no time to even really process how quickly this is already happening, before you feel the warm tip of his cock pushing against your twitching hole. You gasp again, hands furling under the ropes.

"Shh," he quiets you, stilling for a second, "Don't squirm."

"Sorry," you whisper, tears pricking in your eyes, "I'm sorry."

"What're you sorry for?" he murmurs, feeding his cock to you in small increments, reveling in the noises falling past your lips. It's so fucking big, bigger than you'd anticipated - it feels like he's spearing you, splitting you in half, especially without much preparation. It stretches and burns, but the warmth of it, the way it pulses as it invades your body, just makes you gush even more. "Hm?" he continues, "What're you sorry for? You sorry for squirmin' or sorry you pissed me off?"

Your eyes roll back as he bottoms out, his pubic hair pressing coarsely against your pussy lips, heavy balls firm to your ass. You try to speak but it's hard to get the words out when you're so full, the wide tip of him pushing into your cervix.

"You a virgin?" he asks you then, voice changing for a moment, like for the briefest of seconds he's wondering whether he should have gone slower.

You shake your head quickly, "N-no," you manage to gasp out.

"Feel like a fuckin' virgin," he grunts, pulling out and then immediately slamming back inside. Your head bumps against the work bench, a groan falling from your mouth as he makes a home inside you. "Christ," he mutters, "Tight little thing. You feel me in your stomach, baby?"

You're not sure he wants you to answer, but it becomes clear when his hand slaps down on your ass cheek again and you cry out.

"Yes," you moan, then quickly amend, "Yes, sir."

"S'what happens when you come in here, actin' like a little slut," he suddenly reaches for your cardigan and yanks it off - it catches on your restrained hands and he simply rips it and tosses it to the floor, "But then again, you're not actin', are you? Huh? What's a slut like you doin' wearin' all these fuckin' layers?"

"I'm s-sorry," you repeat, already mourning the loss of your favorite sweater, now ripped to shreds at your feet.

"Sorry's not good enough, little girl," he breathes, thrusting into you again so hard that you yelp, cheek still pressed into the splintered wood of the work bench, "That's it, fuckin' take it."

He fucks you without any reservations, any inhibitions. Your legs shake and you can hear the slap of his hairy thighs against yours as he pounds into you relentlessly. You have no choice but to take it, the stretch of his huge cock becoming less painful the more he gives it to you over and over, the room full of the wet squelch of your pussy gripping him. He grabs your hips, fingertips digging into your bare flesh as he takes and takes; you wish you could see his face, wish you could see how he looks when he's fucking you, getting his pleasure. The thought makes you whine, tears streaming down your face as your body moves back and forth against the work bench.

It feels fucking amazing. You've never had a cock as big as his before, never been fucked so deep and so hard, like he doesn't care if he breaks you, makes you cry. He hasn't touched your clit and yet you already feel you could come from just this, just the relentless push and pull of his dick inside you. Unfortunately, just as soon as you feel your orgasm starting to build, he pulls out. Your brow furrows.

"Stand up," he orders, "and turn around."

You obey, relief overtaking you as soon as you're no longer bent at such an awkward angle. The moment you turn to face him you barely get a look at his face before he's reaching down and tearing your shirt in half - easily, like it's nothing. You don't even have time to wonder how the hell you're gonna get home with all your clothes ripped to shreds when his mouth is suddenly wrapped around your left nipple, and you whine at the sensation. You peer down at him, biting your lip and watching his wet lips suckle around the hard bud, beard scratching deliciously against your skin. Your hand aches to cup the back of his head but it's still pinned behind your back, tied tight beneath the rope.

"Fuck," you whimper, and his dark gaze flashes up to meet yours as he sucks, the hint of a smirk on his lips when he pulls away.

"Feels good, does it?" he asks, and seeing the words come out of his mouth is somehow more sinful than when you could only hear them, "You like bein' used?"

You nod almost immediately despite never having experienced anything like this in your life - though admittedly you've undeniably wanted to experience this, ached to have somebody take control, tell you what to do, make you do things. It's like you've somehow known subconsciously all summer that Joel Miller could be that person for you, despite never having said two words to him. It was just a feeling, an instinct, and that dream...

"Yeah?" he continues, and suddenly his hand comes up to cup your pussy, thumb finally pressing against your clit. You cry out, tears still trickling down your cheeks. "Said you were in college, right? You take any college dick up here? Be honest now."

You nod again, "Y-yes."

"How many?"

"I... I don't know," you breathe. It's the truth, and you can tell as soon as the words leave your mouth that it does something to him. He presses his thumb harder against your clit, two fingers slipping up inside of you.

"'Course you don't know," he murmurs, pushing them as deep inside as he can, making you whimper, "You wouldn't know, would you?"

Your thighs tighten together - squeezing his hand - and he just smirks again, curving his fingers and making you moan. Your lower back digs into the work bench as he stands, pushes you up against it and peers down into your eyes again with a hunger that's only getting worse. You assess his expression, the pout of his lips as he fucks you with his fingers, the focused lines creased into his forehead. So fucking handsome.

"You're not a good girl," he breathes, nose brushing yours, "Knew it from the day I saw you. You're just made for takin' cock. Am I right?"

"Yes," you whisper, nodding shakily and bumping your lips up toward his - he pulls away again and you can't help but feel disappointed, aching to feel his lips against yours.

"Tonight you're made to take my cock, that clear?" he continues, and you watch as his other hand travels downward to wrap around it - just out of your periphery. He's too close to you, crowded so much in your space that you know he won't like it if you break eye contact. You can tell by his arm movements that he's pumping himself at the same speed he's fucking you with his fingers, inhaling deeply, "I'm gonna ruin you, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not."

"Y-yes sir," you whisper, voice squeaking when he speeds up his fingers and pumps them in and out with fervor, thumb rubbing furiously against your clit. Yet again he brings you almost to the edge and then removes his hand completely, stepping back with a low chuckle when you whimper pathetically.

Your disappointment only lasts a moment because now you can see him, see the girthy length of him that's already been inside of you hanging out of his zipper, glistening with your slick. He's huge, tip dark and intrusive, beads of his own arousal dripping from the slit; your mouth waters. His eyes cast down to where you're looking and he smiles, dark and mocking.

"Never gonna see another dick like this, darlin'," he breathes, "So you better start showin' your appreciation." His eyes glint. "Kneel."

You're practically already on your way to kneeling before he says it, in awe of the sheer girth and shape of him. The second your bare knees hit the cold floor he's crowding you again, hand coming around to hold the back of your head.

"Open wide, baby," he murmurs.

Your jaw drops and he plunges inside your mouth quickly and seamlessly, making you gasp around his length as your eyes widen. You can't breathe, looking up at him with more tears already fogging your vision as he immediately slips into the depths of your throat with no hesitation. You gag, eyes bulging as you attempt to swallow around the intrusion, find your breath, but it's impossible.

"Yeah," he breathes, both of his hands cradling your face and holding you still as he lets his cock sit unmoving in your throat, "Yeah, that's it. That's what you're made for."

He only holds it there for a few seconds but by the time he pulls it out you're gasping for air, coughing and spluttering as tears stream relentlessly down your cheeks. He keeps cradling your face, tuts to himself as you try to get your breath back. The head of his cock bumps softly against your bottom lip.

"Not off to a great start, are we?" he murmurs, "Let's try again."

He pushes his cock past your lips again and you try your hardest not to gag, a little more prepared this time. The pulsing head of his cock situates itself firmly in your throat, the pubic hair at the base tickling your nose while his balls bounce against your chin. You look up at him with pleading eyes, watch as he stares down at you with nothing but malice in his expression, contempt. You're just a hole to him, nothing more.

He pulls out and lets you gasp another breath before he's shoving himself back in, hands moving back to hold your head firmly as he fucks your face. You don't move - you don't need to; he does all the work as he drags your head back and forth along his cock, hitting the back of your throat over and over again until you're gagging and practically sobbing for air. Your knees ache against the concrete floor and you know you'll have bruises tomorrow, know that you probably won't be able to swallow properly for a few days either. Somehow, you don't really care.

When he's gotten his fill he yanks himself out and allows you to catch your breath for a few seconds, throat constricting around nothing while you choke and gasp.

"Stand up," he orders, and even though you're still gasping for air you manage to bring yourself back up, legs shaking. Saliva drips down your chin, drooling from your mouth in long strands, but with your hands tied you can't make any attempt to clean yourself up - he probably wouldn't want you to anyway.

His wide palms are suddenly on your hips, and he picks you up and places you on top of the work bench with minimal effort, arms bulging. You're completely naked now save for your ripped tights while he's still fully clothed, dripping cock still peeking out past his zipper, covered in your saliva. He steps between your legs and pushes your thighs open, then slips inside of you once again in one short push, making you yelp.

"Oh, please," he grumbles, gripping your hips tightly and pulling your bare body taut against him, head hitting his chest, "We both know you can take it."

It's not like you have any other choice at this point. He fucks you harder than he had before, now that he has easier access, can pull you so firmly against him that his entire length is continuously swallowed up entirely by your dripping pussy. His nails dig into your skin as his cock fucks up against your cervix over and over, so relentless it's almost painful. It's overwhelming how huge he is, not just his cock but his body in general, the way he towers over you and watches your expressions as he takes what's now his.

"Poor little thing," he mumbles, bringing one of his hands up to thumb the tears on your face, "Never been so full, huh? It's okay, shhh," his finger finds your lips and pushes against them almost mockingly, like he's chastising you, "Shhh, this is what you asked for, remember? S'what you wanted." You shake your head but he just nods, "Yeah, it is. You wanted that cock and now you're gettin' it."

Suddenly you're being lifted from the workbench, carried in his embrace with his cock still buried deep inside. You cry out, wrists straining against the ropes, itching to wrap your arms around his neck and hold yourself up with more stability. His arms come up to stretch along the expanse of your back, holding you still and pulling you even closer. As if on instinct your legs bend upwards to wrap around his waist, curling around his lower back while he pistons inside of you without restraint, without mercy.

"Fuck," you almost scream, feeling the rough denim of his jeans scratching against your ass, the heaviness of his balls slapping against you over and over again, "Fuckfuckfuck!"

"Yeah, there she is, there's that little slut," he says, a smile spreading across his face, voice somehow calm despite the fact that he's pounding into you over and over, "Nothin' like gettin' fucked stupid to sort ya out, huh? Needed to be punished, didn't you, sweetheart?"

You don't answer, can't answer, eyes rolling back as he fucks you with abandon. Of course it's not a surprise when he lands a hard spank against your ass, grips your cheek tightly in his palm and growls roughly in your ear, "Answer me, little girl."

"Yes," you force yourself to gasp out, head tilting back, "Yes sir, yes."

"S'right," he mutters, and you suddenly feel the pads of his fingers against your clit, rubbing at an aggressively fast pace that sends depraved noises spitting past your lips, "Come on that cock, tighten up that little pussy even more for me, baby, come on."

It only takes seconds for him to make you come, your eyes rolling back as your body shakes and writhes in his grasp. He doesn't slow his movements, keeps fucking you deep and hard as your legs loosen at his waist and you flop like a ragdoll in his arms.

"Chokin' that dick," he murmurs, "Had so many cocks in this little hole and you're still the tightest thing I've fucked," his brow furrows as he watches your face, watches as your eyes flutter open and your jaw slackens, "And what about your other hole, baby?" You feel one of his fingers prod against your asshole, circle the rim as he continues to bounce you up and down, "Ever had a cock in there?"

You tense up a little in his embrace, eyes widening. At your reaction he slows his movements, still holding you upright and allowing you to just sit on his cock for a moment while he continues to prod your asshole, "I'll take that as a no," he mutters, "Think my cock'll fit up there?"

"It won't," you whisper immediately, shaking your head.

He assesses your expression, eyes trailing up and down your face calculatingly, like he's weighing the pros and cons. Your heart stutters in your chest and you feel that fear from earlier slowly begin to creep back into your psyche, hands shaking under the rope.

"I won't," he states, and relief floods through your body; you relax in his embrace, becoming aware again of his cock still buried deep inside you. He very carefully prods the tip of his index finger inside your asshole and your eyes go wide again, mouth opening in protest. "Yet," he amends, smiling coldly at you, "I won't yet. Not today."

He pulls his finger out and walks with you to the work bench again, places you down gentler than before and peers at you with something in his gaze that you can't place, a curiosity that wasn't there before. It's gone in an instant though, and then he's fucking into you again without warning, gripping tight to your hips and slamming back and forth until you see stars.

"You thought this'd be so funny, didn't you?" he growls, looking at you again with that detached contempt, black eyes locked with yours. He brings his hand down and starts rubbing your clit again, not caring that you only just came a moment ago. "Thought you'd come here, have your fun, and leave again. But it's not so funny anymore, is it? Huh? Is it funny?"

"N-no," you gasp out, overstimulated to the point of even more tears as you squirm and writhe on the work bench, pussy aching from the insistent way he's pounding you and the relentless rubbing of his fingers against your clit.

"S'the last time you show up here tellin' lies," he mutters, "Understand me? Any time you come into my house from now on you're gettin' fucked, got it?"

"Y-yes," you cry, hands futilely attempting to ball into fists behind your back, and he shakes his head.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir!" you scream it, and just as the words pass your lips he stills inside of you, cock twitching as he starts to come. Your eyes go wide, mouth dropping open as his hand sends you into another climax just as he reaches his. Your head falls against his chest and you hear him groan above you, feel the way his cock pulsates and throbs and spits his cum in long and heavy spurts. Your thighs twitch and you feel his hand at your back, pulling you in close as he cups the back of your head.

You stay like that for a moment without speaking, your heavy breaths the only sound in the garage other than the rain now pelting heavily against the door. You swear you can hear his heartbeat.

"Good little girl, warmin' my cock," he murmurs in your ear, and you're still catching your breath, eyes closed, sobs wracking from your throat repeatedly. "Full o'me, huh? You feel all that, baby?"

You can only nod against his chest, wrists still straining against the rope as your toes curl somewhere below you and your body continues to shake. His cum settles warmly deep inside and your eyes roll back a bit when he pushes in further, like he's trying to keep it inside for as long as he can.

"Guess I found a new little cum dumpster, huh?" he whispers, carding his fingers through your hair, "I'll have to say thank you to your friends, or -" he pauses thoughtfully for a moment, "maybe I'll just have to send 'em a little message back with you."

You pull your face back from his chest, peering up at him with tired confusion. He reaches down and pulls out one of the drawers of the work bench, coming back up with a sharpie. You watch with fluttering lashes, unable to stop him - and not really wanting to - as he uncaps the marker and pushes your hair out of the way to write something across your chest, the cold tip making you jolt slightly.

"Shh," he murmurs, "It's okay, I'll untie ya in a sec."

It doesn't take him very long to finish writing whatever it is on your skin, and then he's slowly pulling his cock out of you. You whimper at the loss, thighs twitching as you peer down and watch his softening length slip past your hole, followed by a steady stream of his cum. He quickly reaches up and pushes what he can back inside, thumbing it back in carefully while the reality of what's just happened really begins to settle. You just let a man in his fifties tie you up, use you, come inside you, and write on your chest.

"Can't have all that slippin' out yet," he mutters, "Now, what can we use?" His eyes dart up to the shelves above you and he reaches up to grab something; when his hand comes back down you see the pocket flashlight from earlier, see the slightly flared base and know almost immediately what he's planning on using it for.

For some reason - whatever reason it is that you stayed here after he gave you an out, whatever reason you really came here in the first place - you don't protest.

He brings the flashlight downwards and quickly removes his hand from your pussy to replace it with the wide end, slipping it inside with only minimal resistance. You whimper and he hushes you, brushing his nose against yours as he assesses his handiwork.

"That should do it," he murmurs, then peers back up at you and pushes some stray hair out of your face "You keep that in there 'til you get home, okay?" His eyes have softened a bit, looking more similar to the way they did when you first showed up - is this the real him? You honestly have no idea.

You don't say anything, just nod slowly, feeling the anxiety from earlier begin to sink in yet again. How are you going to get home when you have no clothes? How are you going to explain to your friends what happened? How can you tell them - or show them - what you let him do to you?

These questions are clearly none of his concern. You watch as he backs up and gestures for you to stand with him; you do, with beyond shaky legs and the cold metal of the flashlight between your thighs.

"Turn around," he orders.

You feel him untie the rope from your wrists, essentially ending your time here - whatever it even was. It somehow doesn't feel real. You let them hang limply at your sides, feeling embarrassment flood your cheeks as you turn back around to look at him. He's watching you with a smirk, arms crossed - his dick is back in his jeans. He looks no different than he had when you arrived.

"Now get the fuck out," he says, dark eyes glinting once again under the flickering fluorescents, "before I change my mind."

The air is still chilly. The road is still wet. But thankfully, there are no cars.

You don't know how you manage to get home without anyone seeing you - hunched over, naked in the darkness, avoiding the streetlights, trying to ignore the ache between your legs and the icy intrusiveness of the flashlight still lodged inside of you - but you do. Your palms are sweaty again, heart pounding at the thought of your friends coming to greet you at the door, for the shock and confusion and screaming to begin - but that doesn't happen.

The moment you're back in the house you pull a jacket down from the coat rack and cover yourself, tiptoeing past the living room and waiting to be accosted by the friends who put you in this situation to begin with. Instead, they're nowhere to be seen. You hear the faint echo of laughter from the kitchen, hear the sounds of glass clattering and a fridge being shut. It's like they've already forgotten you even left, like the game meant nothing, and they've already found something new to entertain them, something better.

As if your futile attempt at getting a kiss on the cheek from Joel Miller is already something lost in the past.

And, you think, as you shakily climb the stairs and creep into the bathroom, tear the jacket from your shoulders and stare at your bare chest in the bathroom mirror, see the dark permanent lines that read TRUTH OR DARE...

Maybe that's how it should be.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #*

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wttcsms · 8 months ago

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you wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody, atsumu miya

pairing atsumu miya x reader word count 1.4k synopsis love for you is holding him; love for him is allowing himself to be held. content contains hurt/comfort, intimacy, atsumu-centric, insecurities, unconditional love, showering together but make it sfw

The stinging spray of scalding hot water from the showerhead should be enough to get him to leave, but he barely registers the pain, can’t seem to bring himself to feel the heat, can’t seem to bring himself to feel anything.

No — that’s not entirely true. He feels one thing.

Devastated.

Everyone knows Atsumu Miya likes to talk shit on and off the court. It’s his thing, his trademark, his brand. Lots of athletes like to talk big about how they’re going to win; who the hell is going to support a guy who walks onto the court with a well, it’ll be alright if I lose.

He’s staring down at the tiles of the shower, can somewhat register the persistent barrage of water spraying onto his back as he has one hand splayed on the wall, shoulders slumped, water dripping from his hair and running into his vision, making everything blurry.

Don’t blink, he tries to demand of himself, but the issue is, we can’t always control our bodies. He has to shut his eyes, just for a brief second, and in that second, it all comes back to him.

The opposing team at set point. His team depending on him to serve. One point left. Only one chance. He can feel the stadium’s crowd holding their breath, can feel the lack of air in the atmosphere, can hear how loudly the blood is rushing to his head. Dizzy. Dazed. He doesn’t give into pressure, not anymore, not ever. Doesn’t feel performance anxiety, knows better than to try to attempt something flashy just for the glory of a good story to tell.

Give ‘em a serve they don’t have a chance of receiving, he demands of himself.

The final seconds of the match all come to him like stills from a movie, each frame another devastating blow to his ego, his self-worth, his very being. The ball is in the air, he’s bending his knees to prepare for the jump, his hand making contact with the ball. Something’s off, he can feel it upon first contact, but it’s too late to save, too late for him to change anything.

The ball lands.

On his side of the net.

He’s frozen in place as he stares ahead. He can tell the other team is cheering, slapping each other on their backs, and he can hear the blow of a whistle, the celebration from the crowd. But all he sees is the ball. All he sees is his failure.

Atsumu has spent a good portion of his volleyball career knowing that he plays the game better than most. It’s why he feels so comfortable talking about the lack of skills other players display. It’s why he always has something to say at practice, on the court, during a post-game interview.

And he knows he makes mistakes. He knows that he’s only human. But a bad serve in the middle of a game isn’t as crushing as knowing that he is the sole reason as to why the Black Jackals’ season is going to be ending early.

Where did he go wrong? He did everything perfectly, did everything the way he usually does. Why couldn’t he perform? Why did he let his team down? Why—

“Atsumu?”

He doesn’t look up, and all you can see is the sad shape of his outline from the foggy glass door of the shower. You know that Atsumu probably wants nothing more than to be alone right now, but you can’t help but worry when fifteen minutes have gone by, and you could still hear the shower running. That’s your first sign that something is wrong.

Atsumu is a notoriously quick showerer, to an almost concerning degree. When you first started living together, you debated planning elaborate tricks to see whether or not he was even using soap. (Which, in hindsight, was just flatout silly; he walks out the shower smelling overwhelming of his Axe Men’s 3-in-1 and Old Spice deodorant.)

No — the first sign that something is wrong would be his uncharacteristic silence on the trip back home. He hadn’t responded to your it’s okay, baby, you’ll get ‘em next season. Instead, he just looked out the window, the devastated expression on his face silencing you as well. Even when he lost to Kageyama, he had been disappointed, upset, but still talking big about how he was going to crush the Adlers next time around. He had then made a comment about Tobio’s stupid haircut, and that’s when you told him if he doesn’t have anything nice to say, he shouldn’t say anything at all.

Now, you’d give anything to have him say something. Something for you to work with.

“Atsumu?” You call out for him again, worried when you don’t see his figure moving.

Pathetic. Atsumu thinks that’s what he is. A loser, a fucking scrub, a failure. Even if his teammates won’t admit it, the media will. And what then? Will you think that about him too? It’d be the truth, wouldn’t it? Isn’t that why you’re in the bathroom now? To pity him?

He’s too busy tearing himself down to react to the distinct sound of you sliding back the glass door of the shower so you can enter it. There’s a brief burst of the cool air of the bathroom hitting his exposed body, but it evaporates the moment you shut the door.

“Oh, ‘Tsumu.” You whisper it, and he wants to tell you that he’s not fucking fragile. That he’s not going to shatter into a million pieces if you just raise your voice, if you tell him how you really feel about him. He doesn’t move, doesn’t turn around to face you. He doesn’t want to. He can’t.

His skin is red from the heat of the water, his back staring at you angrily, hurt. The skin’s going to need some time to heal, and you turn the faucet, lowering the temperature of the water.

“Turn around, honey. Please?” You’ve never seen Atsumu so upset before, so quiet. You wait several minutes for him to actually do as you request, and you think it’s only because he wants a way to get rid of you sooner.

You don’t say anything to him as you reach for his shampoo, letting it lather in your hands before you give him a pleading look, one that has him leaning down so you can reach his hair. It feels nice, he thinks, the way you’re shampooing his hair. You’re gentle with your movements, and it almost relaxes him.

You use your body wash on him. Massage the suds into his skin, but you’re mindful of the amount of pressure you apply. You know which areas of his skin is more sensitive from its exposure to the hot water, and you are careful with the spots of his body that he had chosen to be negligent with.

“Am I so fuckin’ worthless that you have to do somethin’ as simple as bathing me?” He’s not angry at you. He might spit out the words — words that come out sounding all raw and scratchy, like they had to personally claw themselves from his throat — but the anger is not directed at you. It’s at himself.

“Look at me.”

His eyes are glossy, wet, shiny, and you know it’s not because of the shower. You’ve never seen Atsumu cry before, and you’re not sure what you’re supposed to do. So, you do what feels right. You whisper his name softly, tenderly, and it’s this tenderness, your unwavering softness, your unconditional love, that breaks him. That makes him feel safe enough to break. That makes him think of the possibility that you’ll take these jagged pieces of him and piece them back together for him, with him.

He’s so much bigger than you. You tell him all the time that he’s larger than life, and he thinks about that comment as he lets himself sink into your open arms, as he lets himself be held. He has never felt smaller in his life, and in your embrace, he buries his face into your shoulder, letting his warm tears mix in with the water already on your body.

“I don’t know how you can still look at me.” He mutters, and every word is spoken onto your skin, tiny blades striking you.

Atsumu isn’t sure what he wants to hear, isn’t even certain that there’s anything that could be said to ease his devastation, but melts into you even more so when you tell him,

“Atsumu, I thought you already knew that nothing can change the way I look at you.”

#atsumu miya x you #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #angst #one shot #fluff #drabble #imagine #alright if this doesn't make it to the tags im never posting again

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f1lovr · 9 days ago

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the prince and me ' ln4 - the meeting (ch 1)

summary: in which he meets her and she runs into him.

pairing: prince!lando x exhcange student!reader

warnings: none i don't think? a little language

word count: 1933 words

series masterlist! series pinterest board!

you never expected to end up leaving the states for anything besides a vacation, but here you stand, listening as your tour guide gives you facts about 'Big Ben' as people would call it. your hand hurries as it writes in your notebook the things that might need to be known for a later test as you listen on, admiring the architecture that was in front of you.

"did you know big ben is actually the clock itself and not the tower?" you whisper to your friend who was standing next to you.

she gave you a pointed look as her head turned to look at you, "you are such a nerd, did you know that?" she says while she chuckles.

"hey! there is nothing wrong with being a nerd!" you say as you pull your phone out to take a picture of the monument. "the tower itself is actually called the Elizabeth Tower after Queen Elizabeth II," you continue as you take a picture.

your friend laughs at that as she goes back to paying attention to their group leader. you were busy capturing pictures for your family back home to notice that your group was leaving to head to the next stop and by the time you were done scrolling through images to look at them and looked back up they were already long gone.

you paused as you just stood, looking around you in every which way to see if you could catch a glimpse of anyone, "fuck," you mutter as you don't see anything.

you move to call somebody on your phone to find out where they were only to see you didn't have any service where you were standing, "double fuck," being the next words you mutter as you walk forward to see if you a get bar of service to call somebody or at least find your trip itinerary to see if you can find where they were headed.

you find yourself at a little cafe when you were able to get service, the hustle and bustle of the people there confusing you, but you just assumed that it was just a popular cafe. you pressed the contact for your friend to make a call to her as you whip your head around to see if maybe you can spot them somewhere, a highly unlikely possibility but you weren't one to stop being hopeful, especially considering you were lost.

"hello?" your friend asks, her voice coming in kind of breaky from the lack of service you had.

"em? where are you guys?" you ask into the phone as you cover your other ear in an attempt to hear her. you were moving back and forth from where you were standing as you tried to continuously get out of people's way as they shove past you to get inside.

"what do you mean where are we-" she broke off after coming back with just the word "palace."

"you're at a palace? what palace?" you ask confused, trying to decipher what she said with the cuts in the call.

your call cuts out as you mutter out another string of curse words, you still having no clue where your group was. you ran to see if you could hail a taxi in hopes that by some miracle if you went to the nearest palace you would find your group, or better yet get better service.

you tried your best to shove through the crowd that was now encompassing you, growing larger by the second. you get pushed backwards by someone making you bump into someone rather harshly.

"i'm so sorry," you say as you try your best to turn around to look at them, hands shooting out to grab you, "hey let me go," you yell as people in suits grab at your wrists.

"this is public defamation you know, i didn't do anything, let go," you yell as you try to get out of their arms. you tried to make eye contact with one of the guys holding you, "i swear i'm not a terrorist, i'm a measly little college student that is stupid and lost her group i swear."

"you probably shouldn't say that," a voice says as another hand reaches out to you, this one gentler, their accent thick on their lips. "you can let her go, Jerry, she's fine."

"are you sure sir?" a voice beside you says, your head whipping to look at them with a glare.

"yes, please listen to this nice british man and unhand me," you say as you tug at your wrist again.

"watch your mouth girl," the voice you assume is jerry snarls.

"jerry, stop, let her go," the gentle voice said again as his hand remains on your wrist, pulling you closer as the other two men let go of you, "come with me, just trust me," the gentle voice whispers into your ear as he holds you close, guiding you forward.

"are you kidnapping me?" you ask as you let him lead you to wherever it was that he was going, the gentleness in his voice telling you to trust him despite not having been able to even see his face.

"you really should watch what you say, you're going to get yourself thrown into the dungeon," the gentle voice laughs as he pushes you into a limousine as camera flashes go off around you.

"they actually have those?" you ask with a shocked face as he follows you in, silence consuming you both as the two men that were holding your wrists earlier got in behind you both and closed the car door.

the gentle voiced man collapses with a sigh next to you and it was then that you finally get a good look at his face and your face flushes when you notice how fine this british man actually was, the curls on his head working great for his mullet that he sported, and the suit he wore clung to his frame just right.

"what? like what you see?" he chuckles with a smirk when he turns to see your stunned and flushed face.

you sat there silently just staring at him not really knowing what to say, him staring back just as confused as he waits for you to say something, "so are you going to say something? maybe a 'thank you prince lando for making your guards unhand me after i threatened your land.' that works you know?" he said sarcastically finally.

your face dropped at the one word, your eyes going wide as you remained silent for a new reason, "p-prince?" you ask carefully.

"prince lando, heir to the throne, at your service," he says, sticking his hand out for you to shake.

you stare at his outstretched hand for a second before looking at the two men who had grabbed you earlier that were sitting across from you both, you now guessing that 'jerry' and this other guy were most likely his bodyguards, "am i allowed to shake his hand or will i be arrested for that?" you ask them jokingly, your response being a glare from the both of them.

"ignore them, they're annoying," the prince says as he grabs your hand and places it on his own to shake.

you shake his hand carefully as you let go, prince lando turning to look at you as he leaned into the seat he was sitting in as the car drove to an unknown place, "so, do you always joke that you're a terrorist or am i just special?" prince lando asks as he relaxes into the seat, his legs spreading a bit as his arm rests on the door.

you flush as he speaks before composing yourself a bit, feeling a little weirder with just sitting normally now that you were in the presence of royalty, and totally being conscious of your more than average outfit, "um- no, that was a heat of the moment thing," you tell him.

"oh? heat of the moment? like you staring at me earlier?" he says with a smirk.

your face flushes more, "is your ego normally this big or am i just special?" you quip back.

you can tell his bodyguards were going to say something at the comment you made considering the prince held his hand up to stop them before leaning forward, "are all you americans like this? the lack of manners i will say is kind of annoying sometimes."

"your poshness is kind of annoying sometimes, what is this? the 1800s?"

the prince chuckles at that, "no i guess not, but i am royalty so what exactly were you expecting from me? sweats and a tank top? dribbling a basketball down the streets? did i nail the american stereotype?"

"just about," you giggle, "you're missing the flirting with every single thing with boobs that passes by though."

you watch as his eyes goes wide at what you said, clearly surprised at how immature you were being in his presence, but he laughs nonetheless, "what are you doing here anyway if i may ask?"

you cleared your throat as you look away from him, realizing his accent and looks were getting to you more than you'd like to admit, "i'm um- i'm doing an exchange program for a semester, i got lost though, got distracted by big ben, hence the whole running into you thing."

prince lando nods his head at your words, "so you were stupid?"

you glare at his words, "yes," you say while gritting your teeth, "i guess you could say i was being stupid. where are we going anyway? you lowkey kind of just kidnapped me, i can call the police on you you know?"

the prince gestures to his bodyguards, "you're perfectly safe, and also this is the police basically and you're on their bad side." he leans towards you again with a smile, "we're going to buckingham palace though."

your eyes go wide in excitement when he mentions that you were going to buckingham palace, "so you were just going to kidnap me away to buckingham palace and just leave me, an american girl who's by herself, on the side of the street?"

prince lando chuckles at you again as he shakes his head, "no, i was going to bring you inside and ask you where you wanted to go, but now that i know you're lost we can help you get back to your group when we get there."

"i'm going inside?" you ask softly as your eyes widen in surprise.

"yeah," the prince chuckles, "who do you think i am? someone who leaves pretty little american girls who are here by themselves to get kidnapped on the side of the street?"

“yeah actually, i don’t really know anything about you” you say honestly.

“well i’m not so you don’t have to worry, and you’re coming inside with us, end of story,” he states as he turns to look back to the front, most likely making eye contact with this jerry guy, as he sits back in his seat.

you decide to just sit in silence for the rest of the ride, wanting to crack a joke on if his other bodyguard was named tom but deciding they were probably already annoyed with you enough so you stuck to watching the city around you pass by outside the window as you all drove to buckingham palace.

you could tell from that moment that it was only the start of your time with the prince, but you didn’t know how you felt about that.

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uc1wa · 1 year ago

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18+ minors dni

tags: fem reader, penetrative sex, oral sex, threesome (yay), unprotected sex, alcohol, dirty talk, reader gets slut the fuck out

roy harper: a little friday night clubbing anyone? >:)

it was the first friday you, roy, and jason all had a night off, and roy’s text was your first thought as well—he just beat you to the invitation.

as expected, jason’s quick to turn the idea down. the same reasoning as always: not wanting to be in a sweaty, jam packed room with drinks being thrown and sweaty body’s all over him. it wasn’t the first time the dark haired man had refused, but ended up agreeing to appease his two best friends.

and as always, it takes a little convincing on yours and roy’s behalf, c’mon jay, we never go clubbing! i’ll buy you a drink if you come, pleaseeeee

plenty of pleases were passed around until the man finally gave in, and that’s when he came knocking on your apartment door, dressed in black head to toe with a roll of his green eyes.

"enjoy tonight because i promise this is the last time." he huffs as he sits at one of your barstools, next to roy who’s lining up pregame shots.

"we’ll change that attitude by the end of the night," the red head says with a wink before bringing the tiny cup with tequila to his lips, stretching his head back to down it with a twisted face. jason does the same, but with a slow lick of salt from the top of his hand before he downs the liquor that makes him inhale deeply.

"this shit is nasty," he says lowly, both men watching you as you take your shot with salt before and lime after, a glint playing in roy’s eyes.

two more rounds of shots burn your throat before the three of you are walking a few blocks down the street under streetlights. you walk comfortably between the two men that could very well pass as your personal security guards.

✬

the club was crowded and packed, as expected on a friday night downtown. but, you weren’t complaining, not even a bit as roy was behind you, his hands playing and holding your hips as you leaned and danced against him.

no, it wasn’t like you were dating, but it wasn’t like the three of you were only friends. you and roy had kissed on a few occasions… usually when some type of drinking game was involved, or when you both were plastered and roy would say, "wish i could kiss somebody right now," while he’s scrolling on tinder. because why would he say something like that when you’re sitting beside him, all glossed up?

while roy and you are having the time of your lives, grinding against one another with smiles on your faces, jason’s in front of you, close enough that your legs keep touching but not to the extent that you want him yet. his lips sit straight as he watches you and roy dance, wanting to take both of you back to his place and have more fun than what was taking place.

"c’mon, jay, dance with us!" you’re reaching a hand to snake around jason’s neck, pulling his body closer and his ear down to your lips to say as loud as you can. jason’s chuckling as you’re pulling him to your frontside, the three of your body’s dancing in sync with everybody else’s in the dark club.

roy smirks at that, one hand remaining on your hip and the other goes in front of you, tugging on jason’s belt loops as if the man can’t get closer, legs slotted between your own.

currently, you were the only one with a drink in your hand. jason and roy had finished both of whatever the red headed behind you had ordered. it was apparent jason wasn’t loosened up enough, so you brought the cup to his lips, allowing his tongue and teeth to find the straw with a grin. he sipped on it before you did the same thing, except over your shoulder so that roy could take a sip, and then back down to your own lips.

jason’s knee found it’s way between your legs, and as soon as he realized he could get closer, he had a hand gripped onto roy’s hip, and the other on your waist. "for a little bitch that doesn’t like clubbing, i don’t see you protesting now," roy says loud enough for both you and jason to hear, and jason rolls his eyes while you snicker.

"you know he can’t get enough of us," you say, smirking at jason who’s mirroring your lips, except looking down at you. "and what if i can’t?" jason bites back.

roy pauses briefly with a wide smile, "show us you can’t when we get back home," to which jason nods in approval, tightening his grip that’s latched onto both of you.

whereas most would be hesitant to go to a club in gotham, it was no problem for you, and definitely not a problem for the men towering over you. big hands were holding you while their even bigger and broader selves watched the way you danced like you knew just how their bodies worked.

the red headed man decided to lean down, his lips ghosting over your neck before he presses a small kiss to the spot that sends chills throughout you. "glad to know that i’ll be taking you home," roy whispers in your ear.

"you gotta share me, you okay with that?" your eyes move from roy’s to jason’s who are dark, not interested in what you two are whispering about but rather taking in the view that is you grinding on roy.

if it was anybody but jason, roy wouldn’t have any after thought to what you just said. a shake of his head and he’d be gone.

but… it was jason you were talking about. the man who’d never made a move on either of you, but was always sitting back with crossed legs, observing when you and roy would kiss. jason who would watch the two of you as if you were purely there for his satisfaction, the same exact way he was in the club right now.

like you and roy were made for him and only him.

roy and jason make and keep eye contact as roy’s hand explores your body, running up your stomach and ghosting over your breast, finding its way back down till a hand is squeezing the top of your thigh.

"i think somebody wants a little kiss," roy says in your ear, lowly. a smirk creeps it’s way to your lips, looking from jason’s eyes to his lips that look all too inviting right now.

not another second is wasted as you’re slowly bringing your hands to caress jason’s neck, rubbing the sides and gently pulling him down, to which he doesn’t resist.

"can i kiss you?" your voice is sweet, and your wide eyes are irresistible to the man you call your best friend. a simple nod is spoken between the two of you and you’re pulling tight on his black shirt, greeting him with a messy, open mouthed kiss.

kissing jason was different than kissing roy. roy was hungry for you, not caring if it was your lips he was kissing or your neck and doing it like it was the last taste he’d ever get of you. roy didn’t care what he’d get of you, he just wanted a taste if you’d let him.

but jason was sensual. it could’ve been because it was your first time kissing the man, but his kisses were long and slow and painful, making desire grow faster and faster in your stomach. you reached his pace, kissing back sweeter and softer.

and though you wish your outting could’ve last longer, the feeling of jason’s eyes stripping you combined with roy’s wandering hands is making you weak at the knees. "wanna go home," you pull back from jason’s lips to say loud enough for the two men to hear you.

jason gives another approving nod, not without bringing his thumb to your lips, though. he pushes a little harder than he realizes, but he’s wiping his spit from your mouth with a grin tugging at his lips, bringing the back of his forearm to wipe his own.

green eyes look up to roy’s who hasn’t stopped smirking since you asked jason to kiss him. roy finally understood jason; it was real nice to sit back and watch his two best friends be intimate with one another. but, he couldn’t help the feeling of wanting to join in, which is why he’s grabbing both of your hands and leading way through sweaty bodies and to the outside of the club.

the fresh air is relieving, the breeze allowing you to realize what just happened, and you look at jason who is still holding onto roy, walking towards the direction of your apartment. no words are spoken in the journey, but thoughts filling all three minds.

the first and foremost in your head was, is jason really about to do this? whatever ‘this’ is, was unclear. were you going to go home and makeout ‘till you’re drunk selves pass out? was that going to happen, and more?

nervousness and excitement fill your stomach until you’re fumbling with your keys that jason handed to you from his pocket, unlocking the door and closing it behind the two men with a ‘click.’

you took a breath once you locked the door again, fearing to turn around to the two men who you’d image to be standing there, looking at you a bit clueless. you were scared of the awkwardness that had the potential to arise in the quietness that filled your apartment in contrast to the club that had ear aching music playing.

with a turn on your heel, you’re looking up to find the two figures that you brought home. a sigh of relief slipping past your lips when you see jason headed to take a seat on your sofa and roy ridding himself of his shirt, scarred skin covering his body. with roy looking at you and jason not, you smirk at the red head, motioning with your head to where the other man was sitting before walking over until you’re stood in front of jason.

"hi," you say with a smile, hand reaching jason’s shoulder and pushing back until his neck hits the back of your sectional, looking at you through dark eyelashes. "hi," he says back, tilting his head in a way that’s asking you to follow through with your intentions.

the challenge heightens your confidence, one knee touching the cushions on either side of jason and the other follows. it was extremely safe to say jason was much bigger than roy.

his thighs were meatier than roy’s, adding extra cushion to the seat that you were currently sat. and his chest… jason’s chest was huge. the surface area never seemed to stop as you took it in, his pecs pushing through his shirt that you didn’t realize was so tight against his skin until now.

your eyes traveled upwards until you reached his face. one end of his lips pulled up in a small smirk, his eyebrows at level and his green eyes mirroring yours—observing how pretty and small you look sitting on his muscular thighs.

your attention is diverted as roy takes a seat on the couch beside the two of you, close enough to to show that he was apart of whatever this is, but far enough to allow you two to be comfortable and for him to watch.

"you’re both so pretty," he says, one arm slung over the backside of the sofa, eyes moving up and down your bodies. this makes jason chuckle before his eyes are back on you.

"says you," you say back to roy, extending an arm to place a strand of hair behind his ear which makes him grin. your touch slides down until you’re cupping his jaw, pulling him towards you and pressing a delicate kiss to his lips. "pretty boy," you whisper, pecking one more kiss and you’re pulling back, immediately going to press a kiss to jason’s lips.

his cheeks are a little pink—and who can blame him? he’d never been one to partake in the action, only to sit back and watch like it was his favorite television show. his hands though, tell a different story. big palms start at your knees, slowly and sensually moving upwards until he’s feeling your thighs, and landing on your hips with a squeeze for good measure.

this kiss is different than the one from the club. it’s quicker, hungrier and you can feel the growing erection that’s hidden underneath black denim below you. you smile in the kiss as best as you can, sucking on jason’s tongue which elicits a groan from him, and a smirk from roy.

a minute goes by of sloppy kisses until you’re pulling back, breathing heavy with pink cheeks and a core that’s aching. "bedroom," you whisper, looking from jason to roy and back to jason who’s quick to stand up with a hand latched under your ass, holding you onto him. his other hand holds out for roy, pulling him off the couch and continuing to interlock with him until he’s throwing you on the bed, taking his black shirt off and throwing it somewhere.

roy takes this time to climb over top of you, your back laying comfortably against your decently made bed, his hands going to either side of your head and leaning down without warning. his lips are on you, thighs pushing you further up the bed so that he can comfortably make out with you, pushing his lower end against yours in a small rhythm that’s not overbearing, but makes you want more and more.

the sound of shoes sliding off, metal hitting the ground and the bed creaking as jason climbs to sit on it fills the air that isn’t taken over by the sound of yours and lips kissing, tiny sounds coming from both of your throats.

the man overtop of you smiles against your lips, pulling back as he feels his friends presence beside him. and your eyes widen, your elbows helping your body to sit up more to watch the scene that was happening quickly in front of you.

as roy moved himself from you, he dropped his pants, leaving both him and jason in nothing but their boxers as he cupped jason’s cheek, pressing a small kiss to his lips that acted more like a test. a test that questioned just how far jason was willing to go with the both of you.

your eyes watched jason’s arms, the hesitation in his body that contradicted the way his eyes fell closed and his lips moved against roy’s. the eyes that opened back up, wide, when roy’s eyes looked over jason’s face, reading it and accepting that he was okay with it when hands fell onto the red head’s hips.

now you were the observer, and not a single complaint nor feeling of ignorance came to your head. really, no thoughts came to your head as your eyes watched your two best friends make out with one another. the way light brown freckles covered roy’s back that was flexed in the way he bent over to kiss jason. the bulging biceps that weren’t even flexed of jason’s connected to big and veiny hands that were beginning to slip their way under the elastic band of roy’s boxers.

fucking hadn’t even partaken yet, and the intimacy and heat that flooded the room made it smell of sex. your skin glistened, just as the other two men’s were in a way that only it could tonight; dancing on one another and then making your way to your bedroom.

without intention to, a whimper slipped past your lips that were spread open, jaw dropped and eyes wide. a whimper that pulled roy and jason out of their kissing and made both of their heads turn to you, you with dark red littering your cheeks shyly, embarassment making your stomach tighten.

"’m sorry," you say, apologizing for taking the two men out of their daze. roy can’t help but chuckle at that while jason smiles, resting his hands behind his back.

"don’t be sorry, baby," roy’s raspy voice cuts through the heavy air that’s settled in the room you’re all in. "not getting enough attention? can you believe that, jay? our pretty girl wants us, can’t stand to just sit there and watch," he teases while jason laughs.

roy moves, his body standing in front of yours and his hand placing its weight on your shoulder, pushing you down and into the bed. "so greedy," jason says looking over your body that has too much clothing on for his liking.

pale hands strip your bottoms off your legs, letting them fall to the carpet that’s placed under your bed. roy whistles, looking at the underwear of choice for the night.

"who’d you wear these for?" he asks, finger pulling the band from your waist and letting go, letting it slap against your skin as another whimper slips past you.

and if you were being honest, you didn’t know who you were wearing it for. yes, you’d brought home strangers before and had one night stands with them. and yes, you’d made out with roy, dry humping him against your sofa, but never fucking him.

so, the answer truly wasn’t clear, and your shy voice showed it.

"don’t know," you say quietly, looking back and forth at both sets of eyes that were glued to your body.

"i’ll tell you who you’re gonna start wearing pretty panties for baby," roy begins, bending down until his knees are pressed against the floor of your bedroom, forearms hooking under your knees and pulling you forward with a jolting force.

jason’s big form scoots over in your bed, his hand pulling under your shirt and lifting it over your head with help from you, lips tugging when he realized a bra wasn’t included in your attire for the night, nipples perked and begging to be touched.

"didnt even wear a bra?" jason questions, eyebrow arched and fingers going down to play with the skin that’s asking for him. he takes the soft skin between his index and thumb, pressing hard to hear a moan that’s designed just for him.

though, it’s hard to tell when roy’s lips are sucking and pressing kisses to the inside of your thighs, leaving a trail of saliva against the soft skin until he’s made his way to the lacey thong that’s covering your pussy.

the feeling of two men on you was a lot. the two men being the two men you’d been friends with for years on end now, though? it was a completely different story and the intimacy was making you feel a different type of drunk compared to the alcohol you sipped on in the club.

this type of drunk was overwhelming, hot, and carved to be the perfect fit for your body. your best friends touching you in ways they never had before, but not once did it fail to make your eyes close and your lips part.

jason’s leaning to press soft and close mouthed kisses to your collarbones, the warm skin beneath him getting hotter to the touch. skin that he himself was getting drunk off of too, the tightness that’s growing in his boxers becoming unbearable.

his lips continue kissing you, traveling upwards and kissing at your neck. his lips open, teeth nipping at your throat, kissing up your jaw until he’s at your lips again. tongue delving into your mouth as you kiss him back, making out with him while you smile against his lips, tasting the remnants of roy’s lips that had lasted from earlier.

that was, until you gasped at roy who’s slipped two fingers into your entrance that’s slicked and overly ready for him. your entrance that’s soft and drooling over fingers that roy’s already curling deep inside of you without warning. roy’s lips reattach to your thigh, groaning against it as teeth press down on the skin.

"fuck, y’don’t know how long i wanted to feel this pretty pussy," roy says, lips still pressed to your skin. and it was lewd the way the man’s eyes were glued to your pussy, the way he was very obviously taking mental photos of how you looked, pushing his fingers into your hole as your back arches against the covers beneath you.

jason’s lips pull away from yours at the statement, his eyes meeting roy’s before looking down at where yours and his body’s met, eyes fixating the form of your body, his cock feeling as if it’s pulsating from the aching feeling in his boxers.

"get her prepped for me," jason says to roy. roy’s eyes widen as he nods, "yeah, make her pretty pussy yours," roy snickers, pulling fingers out and licking them up until he’s sucking on the two fingers that were helping open you up for jason. it was sickening, the way your open eyes watched roy who was watching you as he licked himself clean of your mess that you painted him with. the way he was sure not to miss a drop, humming until the only thing glistening on his fingers was leftover saliva.

finally, he pulls away and jason is quick to stand up, taking his place between your legs. he presses a kiss to your bent knee, standing back up and looking down at your body that’s sprawled out, the drool that’s glossed your lips while your pussy was pulsating. his fingers hook under your thong that roy never took off, pulling it down your legs and doing the same to himself as he rid of his boxers.

jason never seemed to have a small cock. after all, he was a big man who stood confidently over six foot with a broad form. so when you saw his member that stood proudly against his abdomen, your eyes widened. he was big. the girth of him followed by the length was monstorous and made your leg tremble slightly in anticipation. several veins lead to his tip that had a small pool of pre-cum dripping from it.

"all fours, pretty girl," the man grinned, hand stroking his member to prepare himself for you and give him some kind of stimulation. as you comply with a nod, turning so that your body is held up by your hands and knees, jason looks to roy. eyebrow arching as he sees the man is still in boxers, chuckling at the wet patch sitting right where the outline of his dick was.

"fuck off," roy responds, taking his boxers off and getting on his knees, making his way until his member is in front of your face. roy wasn’t as big, girth wise, as jason. but his length competed with jason’s, a happy trail of dark red hair leading to the member that was making you lick your lips.

your wide eyes looked up at roy who watched your expression and the anticipation you held. he tilted his head as he smirked. "can your pretty lips take me?" he asks, and you nod your head embarrassingly quick. "wanna taste," you pout.

the feeling of jason making his way onto his knees behind you makes you whimper, your body spiked in excitement and nervousness—coming from both ends. one hand holds your hip as the other takes hold of his member, teasingly hitting and ghosting the lips of your pussy that are moving in want.

"greedy fucking pussy, huh doll?" jason questions, enjoying the way you’re fluttering around his length, your juices dripping onto the cock that’s painfully teasing you.

"jay-jason, please," you whine against the cock that roy’s tapping against your lower lip. maybe if you weren’t being teased from being full on both ends of your body, you wouldn’t have a trembling lip and flushed cheeks. maybe your toes wouldn’t be curled and maybe tears wouldn’t be pricking the corners of your eyes.

but, you couldn’t help it and roy coos, "wanna be stuffed that bad baby? take two cocks at once? fuckin’ dirty girl," he presses his member past your lips which graciously take him, sucking around the length until you’re gagging against him, his hand holding the back of your head to keep you there a beat longer. "if you wanted us that long, shoulda’ just said, slutty baby."

jason allows you to get adjusted to roy’s length that’s filling your mouth and throat, watching as your drool’s dripping down the man until it’s slicking lines down his thighs. and now jason can’t hold himself back as much as he enjoys teasing your entrance.

slowly, the man pushes inside of you, pulling your hips back until your ass is flush against his pelvis, the loud moan leaving your lips making him feel another sense of accomplishment. while on the other hand, roy groans loudly, the feeling of you moaning and humming against his cock sending another feeling of pleasure through his body.

the scene was lewd, the way jason was pumping himself in and out of your pussy. the same pussy that was leaking all over roy’s fingers just minutes ago, now leaking down his own cock. you were sucking him in, proving that without realizing, you were greedy for the man. wanting nothing but his dick to continue stuffing you, his length hitting every spot that no other man had hit before. spots that only the length of jason could touch against your soft and gummy walls

his hand falls flat against your back, forcing you to arch your spine that allows home for a deeper spot within you that jason begins touching. a place that’s tighter and has jason’s hand raised, letting it fall with a loud spank against the meat that moves for him.

"that good, doll? pussy can’t get enough of me, fuckin’ eating me alive," jason groans, finding the confidence to match roy’s level of dirty talk, his mind only halfway there, the other half fucking you with loud sounds of skin slapping skin.

"baby’s too shy, didn’t want us to know she wanted to fuck us," roy smiles wickedly to jason, fucking your lips the second he deemed you adjusted to the size of his dick. "pretty little thing, wanted to be good for us. didn’t want us to know she’s just a little slut for us, huh?" roy’s eyes move down to you, watching the tears spill down your cheeks, shining on the skin he was kissing all over earlier that night. his hand falls to your cheek, tapping it in a small slap that makes you squeeze your pussy against jason.

the moans and groans that come from your throat were pushing roy over the edge, your stomach finding it’s way into knots, squeezing against jason’s cock, pulling him of the cum that’s threatening to gush out of your hole.

jason’s nails dig into the soft skin of your hips, pace increasing until your hands are holding onto roy, one on his hip and the other on his thigh in an attempt to hold yourself up. the stimulation was all too much, your body begging for release in the form of an orgasm, and to fall limp on the bed in front of you.

"gonna swallow me baby?" roy groans, pace slowing to let you nod. as soon as he watches your pretty self accept, he’s spilling himself into your mouth, cum leaking from the corners of your lips and dripping onto the bed beneath you. "good girl," he breathes, pulling out of your mouth and watching you swallow his seed, like the good girl he knows you are. and even while you’re continuing to be fucked by jason, his thumb moves to your lips, pushing the rest of his warmth into your mouth, cleaning your face of the mess he filled you with.

"good girl, yeah? taking jason’s dick so good baby," he says, eyes moving to the man who’s slamming into you enough to make your ass bounce against him every time he pulls out and pushes back in.

it’s only a matter of seconds until you’re milking jason, your cum settling in a ring around jason’s cock as he’s releasing himself into you. you both fill the room with moans and groans as roy watches, a small pool of sweat sitting in the arch of your back as you fist the blankets underneath you. jason’s leaning over you, his cum dripping out of your pussy despite him staying inside of you, stopping his thrusts while one arm holds himself up against the bed. the other wraps around your stomach, touching you in any way that he can, pressing against your lower stomach, more cum making its way out of your hole at the movement that’s helping you to release all energy from your body.

roy lays down, hand smoothing overtop of yours while your body collapses on your bed. breathing at an uneven pace with closed eyes and a whimper when jason finally pulls out of you, his body laying against your blankets beside you.

the sound of catching breaths and small whimpers continuing to leave you at the aftershock of being fucked are now the noises that fill your room. bodies covered in sweat and the pungent smell of heated sex dripping from the cream painted walls of your bedroom.

your body was exhausted, throat sore from moaning and gagging and hands from holding yourself up for so long. pussy aching from the senseless pounding jason had put you through tonight, feeling of emptiness adding onto the feeling.

"she’s so fucked out," roy grins, your face turned towards him, lips open and eyes closed from exhaustion. jason laughs, his hand moving to rest on your back and rub up and down your skin soothingly. "we’ll make it up to you in the morning, doll," jason says as you’re slipping into a state of sleep.

your friends let you sleep, jason’s finding a warm rag and cleaning you up so that you don’t fall asleep as messy as they left you. both men then clean themselves off, roy pressing a kiss to jason’s cheek teasingly while he grins right back.

"didn’t know you had that in you," roy snickers, jason’s green eyes roll. "you two are gonna start finding out what else i have in me," jason says back, holding onto roy’s hand and leading him into bed, both men finding their way on either side of you, tucking you in sweetly.

"goodnight, jaybird," jason says, arm wrapped around you, landing on roy’s backside. "goodnight, pretty boy," roy yawns back.

a/n first time writing a threesome pls luv it

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yoredoesmore · 11 days ago

Text

Sparring Is Caring | Hoshina Soshiro

You and Hoshina are no longer allowed to spar together

The third division has many rules and regulations to keep the facility safe and in order. One of those rules is that you and the Vice Captain are no longer allowed to step into the same training room at the same time. Ashiro herself put the rule up after being summoned to break up one of your fights.

Nothing good could ever come from a man who is more than confident in his fighting skills and can back up his words by obliterating all his sparring opponents and a person who has been trained to fight and kill from an early age and does not accept defeat as an option.

You would have never bothered to train with Hoshina, as you were well aware that the both of you had the same chemistry as fire and oil when it came to sparring together. When fighting Kaiju or in your free time you harmonized just perfectly but when your pride was at stake all was doomed to burn.

But then Iharu just had to ask who would win in a fist fight, you or the Vice Captain. The both of you immediately answered with “me” and that is how it all began.

“Ya sure ya wanna do this?” Hoshina had that cocky grin on his face as he stretched his limbs.

“Are you regretting your choices, Captain? Don't tell me yer scared.”

It was so on.

The two of you exchanged blows that would have a junior cadet knocked out cold. You twisted and dodged in ways the audience did not know was possible while Hoshina kept aiming at you in swift motions. Hoshina was fast and strong, making sure to target your weak spots while you put your focus on catching him off guard.

The session got to the point where the others were convinced that you were going to kill each other if somebody didn't step in, and they were right.

As the fight proceeded, more and more space was taken by the storm the two of you were creating. Chairs and water bottles got knocked over, the crowd had to evacuate the training room to not get hit by some of the attacks and even some of the equipment got dented.

Just when you were about to incorporate brooms and mops into the fight Ashiro walked in, bringing an end to the mess. The room had become a wreckage yet the two of you were still hungry for more.

This went on for a little longer. It started with you and Hoshina promising Ashiro to keep it down and not overdo it and ended with yet another training room having to be closed for “renovations”

After that Ashiro announced (over the speakers may I add for everyone to hear) that security is to be called if you and Hoshina are ever seen in the same training room again.

(They later on added signs saying “only one crazy lunatic allowed in at a time” with drawings of you and Hoshina in front of every training room)

#yoredoesmore #x reader #anime fanfic #hoshina soshiro x reader #kaiju no. 8 #soshiro hoshina #hoshina x reader #requests are open #you crazy like that #sparring with Hoshina #headcanon

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

Note

James Potter x Reader where reader is in a different house (Hufflepuff if you don’t mind) and she ends up on the receiving end of one of their pranks which makes her angry so she avoids James and the other marauders, forcing him to grovel/beg for forgiveness? Thank you so much xoxo

Hi, thanks for your request! This got a bit long haha, but I enjoyed writing it and hope you enjoy reading :)

cw: mentions of blood

James Potter x Hufflepuff!reader ♡ 1.8k words

Though no one tells him it’s happening, Remus sees the prank coming from a mile away.

Primarily, this is because James and Sirius appear to be playing an entirely ordinary game of frisbee. Just tossing it back and forth, no hexes or nifflers or anything. A simple pastime between two boys on a lovely warm afternoon.

Secondly, they haven’t asked Remus to join them. While they know from experience he’s content to read his book in the grass, they always make a point to ask just to be sure Remus doesn’t feel excluded. The fact that they haven’t suggests that they’re well aware that whatever they’re up to, Remus will want no part in it.

Lastly and most importantly, James Potter has the worst poker face Remus has ever known.

When the curly-haired boy slyly drops the frisbee they’ve been using into his bag, trading it for another, he can hardly keep the giddiness from his face. Which is probably why, when he tosses it well away from his companion and towards a crowd of gathered students, Sirius is the one who has to say, with theatrical volume and distress, “Merlin, can somebody grab that?”

Remus watches warily as several students turn to track the progress of the disk as it sails overhead, and after a moment one breaks away, chasing after it. Remus feels a pang of sympathy for you, your yellow and black scarf flying behind you as you run, needing no further evidence than the eager look in James’ eyes to know that you’ve fallen for a trap.

You jump up to grab it out of the air, beaming in triumph for a moment before a yelp escapes you. You fling your catch to the ground, cradling your hand as the fanged frisbee twitches and snarls at your feet.

“Shit,” he hears Sirius breathe, and the excitement is gone from his and James’ expressions as they jog over to you, Remus standing to follow them.

You pick your head up as they approach, eyes wet but fierce.

“What the hell?” you snarl, and Remus realizes with a stab of concern that there’s a small puddle of blood forming in your palm. “You’ve begun targeting your stupid pranks at anyone who’s dumb enough to help you now? How’s that funny?”

Remus looks at his friends in bewilderment, aggrieved on your behalf but unable to believe they’d do something so cruel. The fanged frisbee—a cheap trick, which really should be banned in Remus’ opinion—twitches closer to your ankle, and Sirius flicks his wand at it, its teeth retracting as it goes silent and motionless.

“We…I charmed it so its teeth would be dull and harmless.” James scrubs a hand through his hair, at a loss. “It was only supposed to scare you, not hurt you.”

You shake your head at him disbelievingly and bite your lip, face reddening as the pain sets in. James steps closer to you, blocking you from view of the small crowd of gawking students, none of whom, Remus notes with some bitterness, have come to help you or see if you’re okay.

“I’m really sorry,” James says softly. “Let me help.” But when he reaches for your hand, you step back, holding it close to your chest.

“Just leave me out of your fun in the future, yeah?” you hiss, stalking inside.

James looks pained as he watches you go, and though Remus doesn’t begrudge you your justified anger, he feels for his good-natured friend. It had been an honest mistake, though the cost turned out to be far higher than either of his friends had expected. But knowing James, he’ll find some way to make it right.

“Sorry, mate. They can’t all be winners.” Sirius claps him on the back, and Remus knows his light tone is more to make James feel better than it is true carelessness. Sirius is loyal that way; he’d probably lock you in a broom closet rather than have you upset James again.

“It wasn’t meant to hurt anyone,” James says quietly.

Sirius’ smile is unfaltering, though Remus spies the worry in his eyes. “She’ll get over it. C’mon, there’s still time to go into Hogsmeade if we hurry.”

And though Remus hopes you’ll feel better soon, he knows it will take James a long time to get over it himself.

James shuffles from foot to foot, feeling silly and anxious as he waits for someone to leave the Hufflepuff dorms so he can go inside. He’s fairly sure you’re supposed to have potions together, but you hadn’t shown up to class, and though James had kept an eye out all day in the hallways, he’d never spotted you. He’d thought he’d caught a glimpse of you in the great hall during lunch, but you’d darted out of sight before he could be sure, and then there’d been no sign of you at dinner. Luckily, it had only taken a quick consultation of the map he shared with his friends to find out that you’d holed up in the Hufflepuff common room, so here he was, draped in his invisibility cloak and fidgeting like a nervous date at your front door.

The door creaks open, and James slips in before it can shut, the exiting Hufflepuff shivering slightly at the breeze he makes whisking by them. It’s not difficult to spot you where you’re sitting painting your nails, lips pursed just slightly in concentration. The common room is mostly empty as other students enjoy the nice weather outside, and James is grateful for the privacy as he takes off the cloak and goes to sit beside your feet where they’re stretched out on the couch.

You look up at the intrusion and startle to find James, pulling your feet closer to you reflexively. He hopes it’s an instinct to make room for him and not to protect yourself from him, though given recent events he could hardly blame you for the latter.

“What’re you—how did you get in here?” you ask, eyes darting between James and the door in bafflement.

Never mind that. “You weren’t at dinner,” James says, holding out his small stolen dish of chicken curry, “so I thought you might be hungry. Sorry, it’s barely warm now.”

You take it from him suspiciously, careful of your wet nails, and James feels a stab of guilt at the sight of your bandaged hand.

“I’m really sorry about yesterday,” he goes on, throat burning with shame. “I know I’ve already said it, but it was supposed to be harmless. I wasn’t careful enough.”

You don’t look at him, not rejecting his apology but not quite accepting it either. “Pomphrey fixed it good as new anyways, so we can just say it never happened.”

James appreciates the attempt to ease his conscience, but your kindness only makes him feel that much more villainous. This would be so simple if you were one of those pureblood gits, or even just a bit ruder, but you’re you, and that’s so much worse.

“Can I see it?” he asks softly, and you hesitate only a moment before scooting a bit closer and extending your hand to him, palm up.

James unwraps the bandage with care, keeping one eye on your face to ensure he’s not hurting you, and so he notices the faint blush that colors your cheeks as he cradles your hand in his. The last layer of your dressing falls away, revealing three tiny white scars. Though they’re healed over, he hisses in sympathy, drawing your hand further towards him protectively but forgetting you’re attached to it.

Your inhale is soft as you lean forward awkwardly, and James huffs a laugh at his enduring idiocy. “Sorry, love,” he says, letting you lean back. He doesn’t let go of your hand, though. “Were they deep?”

You give a one-shouldered shrug, as though it’s nothing to you. James worries you’re putting on a performance of exaggerated blasé for his benefit. “They bled a lot, but a charm sealed them up quickly enough.”

James nods, remembering with sickening clarity the blood that had pooled in your palm and dripped from between your fingers.

“I’m glad,” James says, and it doesn’t feel like enough. Nothing feels like enough. But he can’t stop himself, even if it’s all inadequate. “I’m really sorry.”

You sigh, and James knows enough about you to guess that being upset is exhausting you. It isn’t in your nature; you’re someone who always has a kind word for everyone, who he’s seen lend your quill to a student that forgot theirs and offer them an understanding smile when they broke it, who would rather spend all day avoiding James than let him feel the wrath of your grudge.

Your very warranted grudge, by the way.

It’s terrible luck that someone as sweet as you was on the receiving end of his mistake. But, as you’d pointed out, that was how the prank was designed, wasn’t it? Though James and Sirius hadn’t thought that part through at the time, the victim was always going to be whoever stepped forward to help. Normally it might not matter, but they’d gotten so caught up in the excitement of trying out their new toy that James had somehow gotten the spell wrong. And as a result, you’d been forced to pay a price for your kindness and his incompetence.

“It’s okay,” you say.

“It’s not,” James insists. “And I can’t fix it, but let me do something else. I can do your potions’ homework for the rest of the year, I can give you my dessert every night, I can…I can sneak into Hogsmeade and bring you whatever you want, anytime you ask, I can…what?”

You’re smiling at him, and it’s familiarly lovely but, James can’t help but think, entirely undeserved.

“I don’t need any favors from you, James,” you say, and he realizes it’s the first time you’ve said his name. It’s not a long name, but somehow your voice gives it a cadence he quite likes. “Just be more careful, okay? I ended up fine, but next time someone might not.”

“There won’t be a next time,” he promises swiftly, and means it. “But sweetheart—” if he notices how you soften at the endearment, he doesn’t mention it “—you’ve gotta let me make it up to you somehow.”

You sigh again, though it’s lighter this time, seemingly both exasperated and amused by his persistence. After a moment spent within your own head, you ask, “Could you help me study for the potions exam next week?”

“Yes!” James grins eagerly. “Of course. That’s a start. How’s tomorrow after class? I’ll bring study snacks as well, and we can make it a regular thing, if you like.”

He’d like to make it a regular thing, debt or not.

You smile. “Tomorrow is perfect. And can I call in another favor right now?”

If James weren’t sitting, he’d buckle at the knees in relief. “Yes. I’m at your service.”

“Can you tell me how you got into the Hufflepuff common room?”

“That,” he says smoothly, “is just one in my arsenal of skills now at your disposal.”

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chososcamgirl · 4 months ago

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CLUBBING TOPS! - yeah this bitch goes partying EVERY weekend. also most weekdays bc sjap yn has a high alcohol tolerance. alcohol poisoning? never heard of her. these tops do it every. single. time. without fail. she wears any one of these slutty tops and she’s going home with a man. this girl has a mission! (and no it’s not to sleep with every dj that plays ayesha erotica for her. looks at megumi) don’t be fooled though she’s always down to share her clothes with maki or nobara bc she’s a girls girl (not rlly but she just loves her friends so much) she once caught panda trying to put her tank studio top one once and LOST IT. she started screaming at him that he already stretched it and he needs to buy her a new one… whole time the material was just stretchy she just wanted another one in a different colour (bc why would she pay $120 for a top when panda can!)

ACCESSORIES! - yn is a silver girl BY FAR. you’ll always catch her leaving with one if not all of these. she basically lives in hoops. showers in them, sleeps in them (i know that back piece is smells NASTY) she lives off the quote “the bigger the hoop the bigger the hoe”. MARC JACOBS FRIENDSHIP NECKLACE!!!! (yes i might’ve based this off me and my bff irl ok burn me) she has one on but the real question is who has the other? hint starts with p and ends in anda. but don’t be silly there’s no duos or trios cough yes cough in the group. they all have matching necklaces for eachother bc they couldn’t find a 4 friendship way necklace laugh out loud. she just prefers the marc jacobs one bc it makes her feel superior. CLIPS!!!!! yes she’s a sucker for cute hair clips arrest her. you will never see her with flyaways nah uh.

WHATS IN HER BAG! - her most prized possession… miss miu miu… she got it from the group for her 19th birthday (yes they all were broke afterwards and dine and dashed dinner but hey! can u blame them, that shit is expensive) and in so called expensive bag is ALWAYS a sonny angel. yes he does bring her good luck. the only time she forgot to put a sonny angel in her bag was when she got harassed via imsg.. sound familiar? this bitch vlogs EVERY MOMENT of her life. she has a secret youtube account where she posts her cute little city vlogs of her and her friends. she doesn’t expect it to go viral but it does shortly after she debuted man eater. one time she was at dinner and forgot her handy cam so she called her friend at home to come pick her up, drop her at home to grab her handy cam and then drop her back to dinner which she arrived shortly after her food did (wdym this isn’t a personal experience… heh… i lied sorry bff) and lastly her infamous pink hello kitty lighter. for blunts. and cigarettes occasionally. but mainly blunts.

TEES! - these are just some of the tops she would wear on air. the listeners can’t see her anyways but she loves to dress cute because it makes her feel good doing so. she was always so expressive via fashion because it’s illegal to kill somebody you hate crowd boos

BOTTOMS! - yeah so this bitch basically lives in mini skirts and booty shorts. no mind that her ass is out she refuses to wear pants. on the rare occasion she DOES wear pants it’s usually just bootcut jeans that flare at the end because it makes her ass look good.

OUTERWEAR! - she loooveesssss her jackets like she adores them. cold? putting on a jacket. being harassed? putting on a jacket legs are freezing due to said mini skirt? putting on a jacket. such a multi use piece of clothing! also comes in handy to choke out roommates when they eat your leftovers from the night before! oops!

SHOES! - this girl only wears two types of shoes. heels or knee high boots. nevermind that we are going to the beach she WILL pull up with kitten heels. but who needs the beach when clubbing is just as fun right? she does everything in heels. cook, work, griddy, kick a guy in the dick for groping her? you name it. put this bitch in 5 inch stilettos and she would still would NOT falter once not even stumble. she is a pro and actually needs to be considered for the olympics because that footwork technique is impeccable.

masterlist

taglist: @shokosbunny @luvvmae @catobsessedlady @satoryaa @prozacprinc3ss @essjujutsu @therealsatorugojo @yeehawslap @gojodickbig @dawnisatotalqueen @j2upiters @nappingnai @lalalasillybilly3000 @totallytatum @3cst4syy @lysaray @saltypuffin1040 @aozui @noodles-icetea @makeshiftproject @kurtcobaingirlie @kokoiinuts @renbittt @dashingaurries @slvttycorpse @cuupidsss @mochroialainn @tenjikusstuff4 @oroborosttheiii @ichcocat @iiwaijime @drugzforyou @sugurubabe @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @tyigerz @yoyo-yui @megoomies @yizmiu @jasminasblog22 @yomamablazeit @marst4rz @guitarstringed-scars @qtnfer @kalulakunundrum @lovefrominaya @beepbopzlorp @iheartlindz @itsdragonius @meguemii @chilichopsticks @7kn0wn @starantulas @1l-ynn @bonitoflakez @rcveriees @solaqes @starrysho @sukunaspillow @evry1luvssm

*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

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areislol · 1 year ago

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men i trust

ft— various male genshin x gn! reader

warning — mutual pining (?), smitten men, fluff, modern! au, mentions of sex (it's a party/club), mentions of drugging/spiking drinks, mentions of a junkie

a/n— they're the men you can trust fr, another shitpost of mine....

wordcount. 1.9k

synopsis. an alternative title, them holding your drink at a party.

In the midst of pulsating music and vibrant laughter and chatter at a lively party, you along with a friend you've bought stood next to one another near a couch, dancing to the beat with just a little effort.

The thumping bass and flickering lights seemed to swirl around them as they engaged in a conversation, after a couple of minutes you turned to him with a soft smile.

"Hey, do you mind holding my cup for a moment? I need to go to the bathroom!" you yelled over the loud music and chatter, pointing at your cup to indicate something to him just incase he didn't hear you.

He gave you a swift nod in response, "sure, take your time," he replied, extending his hands to accept the cup. You left him momentarily, weaving through the vibrant crowd toward the bathroom.

He stood by the couch, holding your cup as he eyed his surrounding, silently judging the swirl of people around him that were fucking on the couches.

the overly cautious/chivalrous pal, the type to grip onto that cup like his life depends on it. he will shoot glares to whoever's way if he needs to he is NOT messing around.

he takes the responsibility seriously and might even accompany you to the bathroom to ensure a safe return but since you insisted on going alone, he (reluctantly) let you go alone.

his palm is covering the top of your cup (don't worry he washed his hands) as he watches the people in his area like a guard dog, he won't even hesitate to threaten and fight whoever asks to take YOUR cup with absolutely NO shame whatsoever.

but his aura and built itself scares off people (which is why nobody disturbed the both of you) so he doesn't really have anything to worry about but even so, it won't hurt to be cautious.

he watches the people like a HAWK, it's scary actually. to see someone already (somewhat) intimating watching their every move, it ruined their vibe. but if ruining the vibe to make sure no creep does anything to him and your drink then so be it, not like them scurrying away will affect him in any way.

he treats your cup like it's precious jewel, so what if you could go get another if he accidentally dropped it? (he didn't, somebody bumped into him CURSE THEM which resulted into him dropping it by how big the impact was) so what if it was just a cup? it's YOUR FIRST cup!!!

oh did i mention how they won't hesitate to threaten and or fight somebody? oh well they would if they have to, not that they WANT to but the thought of a free man roaming around and spiking people's drinks doesn't sit right with him, what if you were a victim? he would never forgive himself if that ever happened.

which is why he always accompanies you to parties/clubs and nearly EVERYTIME you go out. not that you're complaining though

"hey, you there. pass me that cup.. ya know, from a guy to a guy, eh?" a drunkard 'pst'ed at him, eyeing the cup in his hand that he knew was yours. the drunkard really didn't think he couldn't see the shameless stares he was giving at you, did he?

he only glared at the drunkard (who by a coincidence looked like a junkie as well, it really pulled the pieces together), his eyes narrowing at him. he stayed silent, not wanting to even speak to him and answer, he wasn't worthy anyway.

as the drunkard kept on persisting and was inching closer and closer to him he knew enough was enough and would not allow that man to take one step closer to him and your cup (i mean it held your favourite soda so). "take one more step and i swear you will not live to see another day." the man, clearly confused and scared, stopped in his tracks.

"oh you're their boyfriend, uh? .... that shouldn't matter. you know what to do to help a man in need right? no need to threaten me!" the drunkard let out the most disgusting, vile laugh he had ever heard. he was now irritated. "you think i'm joking huh? would you still think i'm joking if i fought you right now?" his tone was sharp and lethal, he was not having any of it.

that man dare would spike your drink and even shamelessly ask him (not your boyfriend sadly) to pass you your cup? abso-fucking-not. before he knew it the drunkard was on the ground, and although drunk and dazed, was pleading for him to not have mercy on him. "p-please! have mercy on me i swear on my life to never do that ever a-again p-please!" it was a funny sight to say the least, to see him cry and beg for mercy. as he should.

"you better swear on that life of yours, if i ever see you in here asking another man to spike someone's drink you bet i'm beating your ass again. and i promise i won't let you live to see the light."

— ALHAITHAM, WRIOTHESLEY, capitano, diluc, WANDERER, pierro, DAINSLEIF

the reliable one, he is never drunk, barely really. even if he did drink he knew how to control it, he makes sure he's sober when being with you!!! he's fierce when protecting your cup and tries to be friendly/passive but if he needs to be, he will be violent, sigh... they were asking for it.

you know your cup is in safe hands. he is trustworthy and reliable when it comes to protecting your things when you ask for it.

he is positive that nothing will happen, for the couple of hours you've been there no trouble has stirred in the club so he was sure that nothing would happen as he patiently waited for you.

he sits up straight on the couch, holding the cup with his hands, his foot tapping on the ground. as he waits he notices from the corner of his eye someone scooching closer to him. at first he wasn't worried although he was a little on edge but you know, nothing much. but when they got too close for comfort he moved to the side, now focusing on the man.

"uhm, if you could please not come so close to me, thank you." he tried to polite, not wanting to anger the man. he looked sober, so he wasn't drunk nor on drugs. "why not, young man? hey whad'ya say..." his gaze drops to the cup in his hands, he immediately clenched the cup, creeped out. "$10 for that cup?"

"... you.... you do realize that this isn't mine right? why do you want the cup anyway?" at this point he wanted to walk away and never see him ever again but he was in too deep now, plus, he needed to wait here for you. the man chuckles and dismisses his question. "you needn't worry young man, take it or leave it."

without any hesitation he immediately refuses his offer. "no." his answer was blunt and cold, he wasn't messing around. the man slowly backed away upon hearing his tone, grumbling about how men these days don't take the bait.

he takes their role as the holder of your drink very seriously. you can trust that he'll keep a keen eye on it until your return.

but.. if by any chance they are drunk and the only person you trust to hold you drink, you still have faith in him of course! but to be honest when they're drunk they're a little bit... too much so it's okay, nobody will dare to come and talk to him.

— TIGHNARI, KAVEH, xiao, ZHONGLI, THOMA, pantalone, kazuha, AYATO, baizhu, albedo, gorou, NEUVILLETTE

the photographer guardian, they're armed with their phone and take a snapshot of your drink, proclaiming themselves the official cup guardian. they protect your drink yet ensure you have a visual record of your drink's momentary protector.

when he sees that your back is towards him he wastes no time in taking out his phone and snapping a picture of the cup before taking a selfie of him holing the cup to his face, just barely covering half of his face. he took many photos to say the least.

he posted it on his instagram story as well, to the poor soul's finger, take it easy on yourself as you vigorously tap on the screen to get rid of all of his stories.

and the captions? my god the captions. "haha guess who's the cup guardian rn?" "?!?!?! i wonder whose cup this is..." "look at me and this cup, wow... i'm like guarding it so hard rn"

what did "guarding it so hard" mean? no idea. obviously he takes his job seriously as well, but why not have a little fun? i mean you trust him of all people to hold your cup, to protect your cup from being tampered with. so yes, of course he will protect it with his life! if anyone was to come too close for comfort and eye your drink suspiciously, even just a little glance at your drink will put him on high alert.

he tries not to ruin his vibe at the club and refrains from arguing with the person but will not hesitate to throw hands if necessary!! he mumbles under his breath about how annoying this woman was, she randomly walked up to him and began to flirt with him in the hopes of inching closer to him and then maybe spike your drink.

trust me, he has a lot of experience with these types of people, people who flirt or make small talk in order to get closer to the person and then spike the drink without them noticing, unfortunately many people fall for their trick.

"ah, no. what are you trying to do? do you take me for someone stupid?" he's clearly offended that this person thought that they could really trick him. "you really think flirting with me will do you any good? spiking drinks are we?" he tsks, glaring at the woman. she scoffs and gets up from the couch and walks away angrily, her plan had failed.

when you come back and see him taking photos of him with your cup he immediately puts his phone away and acts like he did nothing. "huh? photo? pfffffff WHAATTT no never. no." you know he's lying. like c'mon you LITERALLY caught him in the action.

but please ignore all the notifications on your phone where he mentioned (@ed) you in the pictures he took, it was stupid, yes.

— CYNO, CHILDE, dottore, kaeya, LYNEY, heizou

begins to act feral and barks.. i mean it works so... that's all that matters right?

.... honestly, don't even ask me why or how. they saw one tiktok of someone barking at a man to scare them off and it worked so why not try it out? the second the suspicious man begins to make small talk with him (he looked around 40 years old, a junkie? mayhaps) he doesn't pay too much mind, if anything he exchanged a couple of words

but when he senses that something is off he tries to steer away from him, pointing at random things and trying to get the man to focus on another thing but alas, it did not work. he would do everything to keep your cup safe, so even though his way of keeping your drink safe is a bit silly he only means the best.

"WROOF BARK MEOW GRRRR" oh my days the attention he brought to himself when he began to bark? hello? it's so embarrassing but aye, it worked! the man, clearly terrified now began to back away and cursed at him. "you weirdo!" he yelled before running off. he only laughed it off, yes, he had no shame.

— ITTO, VENTI

note: i just woke up and i forgot i needed to write (9 am help)

taglist: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..

liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!!

another note: not proof read so if you found any spelling/grammar mistakes PLEASE tell me

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seobstarr · 9 months ago

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Mask Off.

paringl: spiderman!Wonbin x best friend!fem reader

genre!: action, fluff, a tiney winey bit of angst,

tropes!: one sided pining, best friends to lovers, superhero reveal, the hero and the damsel

synopsis!: Before Wonbin had gotten bitten by the radioactive spider, he was on the path of becoming your, his longtime best friend, boyfriend but when he thinks too hard about the people around him and how devastating it would be if they were caught in the crossfire of his battles he swears to never expose his secret to his friends or you, that is until you run in front of a mechanical 20 foot Rhino to save him—or rather—to save spiderman.

warnings! profanity, mentions of blood, descriptive fight scene, mentions of broken body parts

songs! sunflower- post malone, swae lee, friday im in love- the cure, i wanna be yours- artic monkeys I. pink toes- childish gambino,

Park Wonbin swore that he was professional; he’d bet his life on it. But according to Sohee, he was the dumbest person the universe could’ve given superpowers to.

“This seems a little unethical…” Sohee sighed exasperatedly, evidently more than a little fed up with Wonbin and his escapades. Currently, the two best friends were sitting on top of one of the highest buildings of their university, watching out for somebody as they ate the sandwiches Wonbin's aunt had packed them.

“Are you Spiderman?” Wonbin narrowed his eyes at Sohee who rolled his own in return, taking another large bite out of the PB&J.

“Dude, you’re one of the most wanted vigilantes in Korea! You should be off helping an old lady cross the street, not looking for academic cheaters,” the blonde joked, chuckling to himself in self-satisfied amusement. Wonbin wanted to rebuke him, but he knew he couldn’t.

Wonbin had always joked around with Sohee like that, but today it rubbed him the wrong way. Jokes and jabs that usually bounced off him now stung like barbs, especially those directed at his job. Even though it wasn’t a job, it was his chosen path.

Yes, he should be out swinging through the streets of his city, but he couldn’t help but think about you; How you were doing, what you were doing, if you were safe. You were the third person who completed Wonbin’s small friend circle. The only person he was as close to as he was with Sohee.

He would admit, he probably should be helping an old lady cross the street, given he wasn’t looking for cheaters: he was waiting for you to finish class. He didn't have any more classes until tomorrow, so he had the entire rest of his day to spend and he wanted to spend it with you. Originally, he’d planned to wait by himself, but Sohee had caught him rushing out of his last class toward the School of Chemical Science building.

And that was exactly where they had ended up, on top of the Chemical Science building, waiting for your biochemistry class to be done. “You should eat something; you haven’t touched the sandwich at all,” Sohee spoke again, finishing his lunch with one last bite and eyeing the sandwich and chips Wonbin had next to him. Wonbin rolled his eyes, not daring to face Sohee’s determined gaze a second more.

“Go ahead. I got a 20, I can get something later,” he sniffed, and Sohee practically snatched the food from beside him, earning a small chuckle from Wonbin.

Once the doors opened and the students began to pile out, Wonbin almost broke his neck turning to spot you from the crowd. When his eyes finally landed on you, struggling to fit your textbooks back into your bag, his heart stopped, his cheeks flushed, and his chest tightened.

A smile crept across the corner of his lips as he stood up. “Okay, I’ll see you later!” Wonbin bowed jokingly and waved, his right heels leading off the edge of the building before he fully plummeted towards the ground.

“Wait!—“ Sohee gasped, hand reaching out towards his already falling friend. He groaned, how was he supposed to get off the roof if the door was locked and Wonbin had carried him up?

Wonbin excitedly, if not clumsily, threw his bag over his shoulders as he stumbled in front of you, a dorky big smile expressed on his face. “Aren’t you supposed to be home?” you sarcastically chuckled as you continued to walk, his footsteps matching yours as he followed.

“I’m actually here to walk you home,” you proceed to laugh more, finally fitting the book into your bag. “What a gentleman,” jokingly you tilt your head toward him. Wonbin had always felt like a big person in your life, his presence was always there in all of your memories, even if it was a small one. He was always the clumsy, dorky, funny, and unintentionally annoying Wonbin, but lately, for the past few months, he had been acting out of the ordinary, out of your ordinary.

Instead of showing up to class early or on time, he would now show up at least 20 minutes late and you’d have to write another pair of notes for him in a separate journal. He also would show up unannounced like he knew where you were at all times. To say the least, it started to get suspicious to you. “Made a new playlist,” his voice had broken you out of the thoughts that clouded your brain.

Your eyes focus on him next to you. “Shouldn’t you have been doing homework?” You smile, and his laugh floats through your body.

“Take it or leave it,” your hand grazes past his to take the earphone from him, and Wonbin swears he could feel his heart tighten from the little interaction of where your fingertips grazed over his.

As Wonbin continues to fool around, the familiar banter-filled walk envelops the both of you. Playful jokes and shared laughs punctuate the journey, making it feel like it’s been hours since you had left campus. As they stumble along, Wonbin spots a small convenience store and nudges the fir beside him with a grin. "Hey, wanna grab something, I’ll pay?" Without saying a word, you chuckle and nod, the light glinting off your eyes at the sound of something to eat, stomach grumbling.

"Sure, but only if you promise not to take forever picking out the perfect snack this time." Wonbin feigns shock, placing a hand over his heart. "I have standards okay, Y/n," his eyebrow goes into an arch as you both share a laugh and head into the store, playfully bickering about which chips and drinks to choose. The chatter flows effortlessly as you walk into the store, like an old record playing a familiar tune. Wonbin teases, holding up one of his favorite chip bags. “You know, I'm pretty sure these chips are made from top executive potato farms." You raise an eyebrow, matching his playful tone. "Oh, so you're a chip connoisseur now?"

His head nods in agreement. "There’s no way these chips can be this good, there’s just no way," his shoulders shrug back into him in disbelief sharing a laugh, you shaking your head, the atmosphere light and carefree. The convenience store's fluorescent lights cast a warm glow on your faces as you continue the lighthearted debate.

With one of the other hands carrying each side of the bag of snacks, you both continue on the pathway, drifting back into the comfortable city silence.

When you approach your house, Wonbin expects nothing less than to be welcomed in and hang out with you until nightfall.

You unlock the front door to your empty house and turn to Wonbin, ready to do what he had just thought, but he stops himself from smiling into your gaze. Quickly the goofy smile on Wonbin’s face fades down into a serious line, a sudden tension seizes him and the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up to alert him.

His hand goes back to pet them down, trying to ignore the pressing feeling, but the unsettling feeling is making him nauseous, his hands starting to sweat as he physically looks uncomfortable. “Bin?, You okay?” Worriedly you ask, sensing that something was wrong.

“Wonbin!” You shout into his ears, blocking your concern. “I’m so sorry, y/n, I forgot that my aunt needed help around the apartment tonight,” a held sigh escapes, and you nod in disappointment.

“Okay, you owe me one though, a hangout, I mean.” Suddenly, your smile gives him some sort of relief, even if it was a small dose. He nods. “Of course, I know the drill.” He’s already making his way down the front steps of your porch when his body tenses even more with the now overbearing feeling of discomfort. His eyes closed, trying to calm his annoyed nerves as his fists curl inward to form a tight ball, knuckles turning white.

The reaction his brain had become overwhelming, the thought of hundreds of people in danger replaying over in his head, as he walked down the street, away from your house and hoping to god that you were safe from the destruction he was about to overcome. His phone rings rapidly with a call from Sohee.

His nerves calm down from the recognition of his best friend's number, and he picks up the phone, beginning with a simple “What’s up dude?” before he is cut off by a panicked Sohee. “bin, where are you right now?” His tone sounded frantic, but overwhelmingly calm, like he was trying to deescalate the situation, make it seem under control. “Just left y/n's, why?” Wonbin concluded, his serious tone beckoning Wonbin to speed up the slow walk he had sported.

"You need to come to the campus, right now." The serious tone in Sohees voice was drastically different from the usual playful one he would have in his earpiece during missions. Wonbins thumb hits the red end button on his phone before aiming his wrist to the nearest street pole and swinging himself up into the air.

When Wonbin made it to the school's campus, he was met with a sight that would make a regular person's heart stop. Luckily, Wonbin is nowhere near a normal human. Through the dotted specs of his suit goggles stood a machine that could’ve reached the clouds if built a little taller.

Standing at the end of the quad area and in Wonbin’s way was one of the enemies he had made along his way to success, Rhino. A bulky almost 20-foot Machinery in the shape and build of a Rhinoceros, complete with the guy behind the machine in the dead center controlling it. Wonbin stretches, rolling his eyes at how relentless this guy was. Just because he had stopped the guy's bank robbery did not mean that he had to build a 20-foot-tall steel animal as revenge.

“Y’know..” He shouts, voice cutting through the warm hues of the afternoon, a mix of confidence and sarcasm “When I said “Get stronger before you face me” I didn’t mean add missiles to the outer of your suit,” he chuckled, the red and blue hues of his costume standing out against the shadows.

Rhino, his yellow-tinted teeth seething menacingly, growled in response. "I hate that snotty mouth of yours, Spider."

Wonbin grinned beneath his mask, allowing his agile feet to guide him closer to Rhino. "Yeah, I’ve heard that before, don’t worry," he sighed, the rhythmic thuds of his web-shooters accompanying each step.

“Okay…Let’s get this over with, yeah? I’d hate to speed things up, but I got somewhere to be, Rhino,” Wonbin mumbled a bit, his words trailing on and on as he shot one of his webs to grab the closest object near him and slung it into Rhino, making the heavy machinery falter backward. Wonbin’s eyes widened. “Maybe that wasn't the right move…” Before he could react with another snarky remark, his opponent was already charging toward him, the tip of the steel Rhino horn rapidly approaching Wonbin. His web from his left arm shot and swung him out just in time before Rhino shook into the wall Wonbin was in front of.

Wonbin prayed that Sohee was safe as he swung effortlessly through the cityscape, the rhythmic thud of Rhino's heavy steps echoing in the narrow alley. He didn’t know what he would’ve done if Sohee was off bleeding out somewhere and Wonbin wasn’t there to help him. The night air crackled with tension as the two adversaries faced each other, the glow of the city's lights casting dramatic shadows.

Rhino's massive form loomed before Wonbin, who quirked an eyebrow beneath his mask. "Missiles, Rhino? Stepping up your game," he quipped, a playful smirk on his face.

The villain grunted with anger, his horned helmet gleaming in the dim light. "Can't wait untill I put a hole through that body, maybe that'll get you to stop talking"

Wonbin chuckled, a characteristic humor lingering in the face of danger. "Good luck with that, big guy," and with one last snarky remark, the clash began, a symphony of punches, kicks, and maneuvers as Wonbin skillfully dodged Rhino's powerful attacks. He flipped and swung around, using the urban landscape to his advantage. His webs wrapped around various parts of the close-witted apartments to land blows.

"You move like a wrecking ball, Rhino! No wonder they call you that," Wonbin taunted, ducking under a powerful swing.

Rhino snarled, charging forward with renewed fury. "I'll smash you into the pavement!"

Wonbin’s spider-sense tingled as the battle intensified, warning him of Rhino's next move. He leaped up into the air, narrowly avoiding Rhino's onslaught. The sounds of impact echoed through the open city streets, followed by the misdirected shrieks of pedestrians as they paid witness to the fight.

But one scream had caught Wonbin’s attention. If he didn’t have his senses, he wouldn’t have noticed your terror-filled screams. His attention redirected itself to where you were, his panic-ridden eyes desperately scanning the crowd of sprinting people to spot you.

As his eyes dart to find you, Rhino had spotted an opening, landing one big spring full blow to Wonbins side, and from the hit, the fabric on his leg and right side of his arm is almost completely disregarded, blood sparkling down the open cut. His legs shakily tried to push himself up, but the blow was powerful enough to weaken the superhero's stamina.

“Spiderman!” The voice rendered him still, his masked eyes following the sound of your voice as you rapidly ran towards him. He had almost gasped if it wasn’t for his enemy watching for his close reaction to the stranger helping him up. The last thing he would want was for Rhino to know your connection with him

“Are you alright?!” You didn’t know why you had decided to run in the middle of the crossfire to help up the vigilante that had been swinging over your city's cold nights, but something had compelled you to recollect yourself out of your terror and help him as the hit from the mechanical rhinoceros came in contact with the hero's side.

“Oh yeah, Totally fine,” he coughs in between words as you help him up to his feet. Wonbin tried to let out a big huff of breath, but the puncture on his body didn’t let him, every time he tried to breathe the gain of pain became worse.

With a squeeze of his shoulder, he realizes who helped him up, and his panic-filled thoughts circle back to you. His head turned. “Oh my god, you shouldn’t be here. Like at all,” he squeaked.

“Shit, shit, shit—” His mumbles become incoherent as his hand holds out, web wrapping around the light post and pulling both of you into the sky. You scream, understandably, not everyone is normal about swinging for the first time; hell, Wonbin couldn’t even grasp the concept of it for the first few months of his new persona. His breath hitches at the pain surrounding his body as he utilizes his power more deeply, desperately trying to get you to safety while also desperately trying to lose Rhino.

“Oh my god, Oh my god, I’m in the air—I’m swinging through the air. Holy shit—”

“Technically I’m swinging through the air; you are flying, I guess,” he corrects amidst the tension of the situation. The air circling through your nose had made it unable to grasp the feeling of being so high. “Make a left!” you shout at him. “Not to be that kind of superhero, but I do not think I should be taking orders from a girl who risked her life to help a regenerating spider-human hybrid,” Wonbin snaps back, making another swing forward. “And I don’t think you should be flying—”

“Swinging,” Wonbin grunts. “Okay! Fine, swinging. I don't think you should be swinging through the air while you could potentially be internally bleeding.” You had made a good point, swinging through the air would only make his injury worse.

“Make a left, my friend's apartment is down on 17th Street.” He mentally nods before making a sharp left, trying to make it to 17th Street before he had weakened even more. He makes another hard left but this time pushes himself up more.

His feet land on top of the building you had ordered him to go to. “Thank god we lost him on that last turn—”

“What the hell were you thinking, Y/n?! You could’ve seriously been hurt, let alone died,” Wonbin’s voice laces itself with frustration. His first instinct was to check you for any bruises, shaking your body side to side forcibly. “Wha-What..?”

“God, I know you could be a little dense, but I didn’t think you’d be this stupid—”

“How do you know my name?” You question, ignoring his cries of worry.

“What? Don’t tell me you have whiplash from being launched in the air,” his voice fades out as he realizes what he has just done. There was a moment of silence, the cold air of the now nightfall surrounding the tense situation. “Well, I know every civilian's name,” he huffs out.

A bluff, you thought “You do?” Y/n deadpans. “Of-Of course!”

“Take your mask off,” Wonbin gulped at the command. His hand twitched in contemplation. He couldn't say no to you, even if it meant putting you in danger by telling you his secret. But if it meant keeping you safe, he wouldn’t mind telling you no.

He promised himself that nobody close to him would get hurt as long as he had these powers. When Sohee had found out, a part of him had felt disappointed in himself for letting that happen. But if you had found out, Wonbin would have to harm himself before letting you fall into the hands of endangerment.

He just couldn’t do it. “I-I can’t, at least not right now, Y/n,” his voice becomes raspy as his air shortens, the injury becoming worse with every second he sits here and rattles his brain about you.

“I’m not going to judge, nor am I going to act surprised. Just please, I need to know who you are,” you beg, the scraps and little cuts on your hands going up to feel the warmth of his mask. “I cannot put you in danger as I did—like I did my other friend,” your fingertips slide slightly under his mask to pull it up, but his covered hand stops you from doing so.

“You aren’t going to put me in harm's way; I can handle myself…”

“I can’t—”

“Wonbin, please.” It was like Wonbin’s heart had dropped, his feet felt unstable, and dizziness wandering up from the back of his head, part of him wondered if it was because of how much blood he was losing but a part of him knew it was from the name drop the way he froze up.

His larger hand softly unwraps yours as he finally lets you lift his mask and pull it off of his face, revealing the busted lip and potential black eye he had gotten from the fight. “How did you—”

“I only have two friends that care about me that much. And I know Sohee would not be the type to ruin his face battling a mechanical Rhino the size of a tennis court,” a soft smile reaches your lips as the taller stands in front of you in shock, his messy hair rubbing against his long eyelashes. “I’ve been racking my brain on why you’d been acting so strange lately. Why’d you never show up to class, or be late to the few you have attended, Why you wouldn’t go to karaoke with me and Sohee—”

“Okay, okay. I get it, a lot of questions little amount of breath,” Wonbin weakly chuckles, holding his side tightly. “But we can save those for a later date. I’m just glad that you are safe.” If he wasn’t beaten to a pulp right now, you would’ve said that this was the most handsome he had looked in the time you had known him. His hair messy, the air drying up his lips by the minute, the weak warm smile he sported while looking at you in desperation.

You step closer to him, almost too hastily, because when you softly smash your lips into his he stumbles back a bit before stabilizing himself on the rooftop's rubble. It had felt like the world had rejoiced at the sight of you two, like the air had been stripped from the gasses and the cold air from the night had become warm as both of your lips had synced together. You giggle in between pecks, an endearing sight to Wonbin’s eyes.

You never wanted that moment to end, the pure bliss of the moment filling your gut with butterflies but then your eyes spot down to his torso, where he holds it roughly with the little strength he has left.

You push him off slightly. “Oh! Let’s get you to a hospital. You could die—”

“NO! No hospital, I’m fine,” he grunts. “You are not fine—”

“I’ll be okay since I inherited spider senses, that means my body heals itself faster than the average human. I just need to rest; the longer I put pressure on it, the longer it’ll take to heal.” You nod at his explanation. You are not going to say no to his methods, considering how he’s the one with the superpowers.

His arms wrap around your waist, hugging you into him tightly. “Good thing I was your first choice when you thought about a hiding spot.” He chuckled, his apartment being 3 levels down from where you both stood.

A warm towel lays upon Wonbin’s head as he lays in his bed watching television, the remote flipping through various movies. It had been the next day, you had spent the night taking care of his wounds because

1.) You couldn’t let your newly pronounced boyfriend suffer alone with little to no treatment,

and 2.) he begged you to stay with him.

“By the way...” you trailed on from his desk chair, fidgeting with his Rubik's cube.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve been your guy in the chair,” you exclaim, huffing into a pout, and he chuckles at your personal dilemma. “I mean, I could still be your guy in the chair—”

“You will not be my guy in the chair; Sohee is that already.”

Your eyebrow cocked upward. “Oh, so Sohee knew about this before me?”

“ON ACCIDENT,” he protests. “Yeah, okay, I doubt that.”

footnotes!

notes!- hi, it's been a while lol. This was supposed to be a zb1 fic but I changed it last minute bc I miss my pookies. please let me know how you like it feedback is always appreciated!!! maybe I'll even do a part 2 with the events (Gwen death scene) of amazing Spiderman 2 who knooowss also if it says gyuvin or tricky anywhere let me know...please.

#riize #riize x reader #riize imagines #riize wonbin #wonbin #riize oneshots #angst #wonbin x reader #riize fluff #wonbin fic #riize scenarios #kpop fanfics #kpop #kpop imagines #riize wonbin x reader

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joocomics · 2 months ago

Text

be nice to your favorite ghostface

day 20 — mask kink w/ gaon ⌞⌗ kinktober ⌝

𓂃⠀𓈒 ghostface!jiseok x fem!reader

genre: smut — mdni! wc: 4.3k

summary: the roommate of your best friend's boyfriend hears you gushing over Billy Loomis so he decides to turn one of your dirtiest fantasies into reality

contains: sub!reader, hard dom!jiseok, roleplay, mask kink, (consensual) unprotected sex, knife play, voice kink (jiseok uses voice changer device in the beginning), light fear play, degradation kink, begging, oral sex (m/f), face fucking, name calling (slut/whore), pet names, breath play, choking, dirty talk, overstimulation (f!rec), spit kink

[ kinktober masterlist | general masterlist ]

You shut the front door of your apartment complex and head towards the stairs. You just had dinner with friends, a much needed girls night, and now you're eager to get cosy in your bed with a binge worthy show.

This year you want to celebrate Halloween away from crowds, and the idea of entering your quiet home with all the snacks you bought on your way here has never excited you more.

You make out chatter coming from the upper floor. A group of kids are trick-or-treating and you hurry to hide the plastic bag with the goodies, but you quickly realise you only have the pockets of your jacket which are already holding your wallet, your cellphone and a lip balm.

Unfortunately, you'll have to part with some of the candy bars and you just have to accept it.

To your surprise though, the children just run past you without even acknowledging your existence. They almost push you down the stairs, too excited and overwhelmed to comprehend their surroundings or watch where they're going in their colorful costumes. Their earsplitting hollering fades away as they reach the exit and you - the front door of your home. The building turns completly silent again except the sounds of your footsteps.

“Look who’s finally back.” A disturbing voice calls out behind you. “I was waiting for you.”

“Shit!” You yelp, bumping into the wall. “Who the—“

Your startled eyes meet a dark figure in a full Ghostface costume.

He's standing still as he places a finger in front of his hidden face and you obey - you don't utter another word. Instead, you silently observe the slow motions of his one hand holding a small white device.

He’s wearing black gloves just like the real Ghostface, and he changes his voice with the help of that small white device... just like the real Ghostface.

As real as that character can get.

“You’re supposed to scream later on when I rip your chest open, baby.”

The distorted voice sends more chills across your body and you feel yourself shivering in your dress despite the jacket on your shoulders.

“Who… who are you?” You focus your gaze upon the black and white mask in front of you.

Ghostface tilts his head to one side; you can’t tell if he’s picking his next words or if he’s offended that you don’t recognise his true identity.

With no rush in his actions he lifts the device again, asking:

“Who do you want me to be?”

His twisted tone comes out calm, arousing your curiosity with each question.

“Jooyeon, if this is one of your pranks again, I…”

“Jooyeon is not here.” The fearsome figure cuts you off. This time his words echo louder with slight frustration.

His black boots take a step forward, and you make a step back.

“You’re not gonna run away from me, are you Y/N?”

Hearing your name attached to his question brings a certain sense of relief. It’s somebody you know.

Not that it’s impossible for this to be a complete stranger who’s been stalking you for months and has finally decided to play his sick tricks on you. With social media nowadays…

He continues to get closer with the same slow pace and it seems that the fact you stopped moving at all pleases him.

“That’s right, you wouldn’t dare.” At once he stops, keeping the white device close to his face. “Hot and smart, I like it.”

He notices you’re concentrating on his silhouette. Your back is pressed against the wall, your eyes - focused and captivating, keep analysing every one of his moves.

He’s never seen you pay such close attention to anything before. When he heard you thirsting over Billy Loomis during your movie night two weekends ago he thought you were talking mainly about the actor, but looks like his friend Jooyeon was right when he said that more and more girls fantasise about being fucked by Ghostface.

You thought you were being very discreet with the way you were leaning towards your best friend in order to describe how badly you needed the killer, but he didn't miss out on even one perky smile of yours. He caught every word that came out of your lips while his eyes, too busy to stare at your streched bare legs that were softly illuminated from the screen, ignored half of the movie.

The more hours you spent at the apartment, the more parts of his mind you began to occupy - the way you speak, the way you laugh, the way you sit on his chair and cross your legs... This dirty little fantasy is just one of the many things that comes from you, and now lives permanently in his head - partly becoming a secret of his own too.

He knew he was damned the day he got introduced to you by his roommate.

“What’s that look on your pretty face?” He leans in a bit. “Want to feel my knife?”

While staying still, you let the sharp blade poke the corner of your mouth.

“Actually…” you speak up as the edge lightly traces your jaw. The thrill that shoots through your chest slows down your train of thought and the change in your voice makes you sound like you’re getting dizzy. “Can I feel your mask?”

Of course that's what has your attention.

He stills remembers the moment you said you'd let Skeet Ulrich fuck you with that freakin' mask on. “Didn't expect you to be that freaky,” he told you quietly, letting you know that he heard your confession. It seemed like you didn't really mind it that out of everyone there he was the one who caught you though.

Instead of blushing, or denying it, you just shifted to sit even closer to him.

“I know who you are.” Your lips turn up for a quick second as you get a little glimpse of his real dark brown eyes; your fingertips feel the outlines of the mask. “Jiseok.”

“Surprise, Y/N.” Jiseok exclaims with the classic Ghostface intonation.

The familiar smug laughter you’ve heard so many times slips through the mask, echoing in the hallway as you stare at him.

The adrenaline rush elevates in your veins now that you know it's him behind the costume. You haven't seen each other in a while and you try to compose yourself from the excitment you feel over the fact this is the first time you find yourself alone with him.

“Why did you sneak behind my back like that?”

“Oh, don’t tell me I scared you, pretty girl?” He coos, this time in his own deep voice that you've gotten very familiar with, but for some reason still gives you butterflies.

The knife appears in the air again, but this time it's guided towards your neck. The sudden movement makes you wince and Jiseok giggles, because he simply wants to flip your hair over your shoulder.

“Aren’t you gonna invite your favorite Ghostface for a drink?” He gestures passionately with knife in hand. “I came all the way here to pray on you.”

“You must be the most chatty Ghostface out there.” You grin as you unlock the door to your apartment. “Come in.”

Without taking off the mask, Jiseok observes around. He’s intrigued, but he’s going to ask for a tour another time.

“Who were you all dolled up in this pretty little dress for?” He asks, looking at your backless dress that’s hugging your ass perfectly. The view causes the excited tilt in his tone to slowly disappear, making his voice sound lower.

“My girlfriends,” you turn around, pleased to hear him being interested in that, “we had dinner together.”

“Where’s your costume? It's Halloween.”

“I’m not really into dressing up.” You reply as you put away your jacket. “Also, it was just a simple dinner to catch up. No partying this year for us.”

“Bummer, I thought you’re gonna be my Sidney tonight.” He gets closer and your ass bumps into the counter. As his eyes eat up the sight of your slightly exposed cleavage, the cold blade in his hand slides up your inner thigh. “Are you a virgin, Y/N?”

“No.”

He taps your skin with the knife a few times before speaking up next.

“Good.” He grins behind the hooded mask. “We can have fun together unless you want me to leave.”

You shake your head not taking your eyes off of him even for a second.

“No,” you say and your heartbeat quickens, “I think I enjoy your company, Mr. Ghostface.”

Your lips open wider when you feel three taps between your legs - each comes with a pause before the next. Right onto your panties beneath which you feel a warm sensation spreading as you breathe in deeply.

“You think? He repeats the word you chose with a certain suspicion in his tone. “I can help you make up your mind. You like being scared?”

“Why would I be scared of you?”

And as to prove that you want him your legs spread apart some more. As a result you sense the knife between them changing its direction; now it grazes the warm skin of your thigh again, gently, but sending strong shockwaves through your body.

“You don’t really know me, baby.”

He’s somewhat right about that.

You’ve never been left alone with him until now. You’ve also never maintained longer conversation than just few messages because one of you shared a relatable meme on your stories or because his roommate shared a funny group picture. But neither of you can deny it - there's something in the air every time you're in the same room. There's a heady presence of passion and it was just a matter of time for both of you to give yourselves wholly to it.

“Let me get to know you then.” You grab a handful of the black fabric of his costume.

It’s almost as if that's a sign Jiseok has been waiting for.

Before you have time to realise what he could be up to, you hear a ripping noise from below.

“No, Jiseok, no!” You protest. “Don't!” But it’s too late.

The blade cuts through your dress and you watch Jiseok’s hands ripping it off all the way to your stomach.

You loved that dress, but damn was this hot…

“You’re crying over this little dress? You’re practically walking around naked, baby.” He says condescendingly as his palm squeezes your butt cheek before going back to your clothed folds. “You’re lucky that wasn’t your skin.”

“You’re really committed to the role, Jiseok.”

He doesn’t respond to that right away.

Remaining silent, he removes one of his black gloves and tosses it on the counter behind you where he left the knife earlier.

You’re already buzzing with delight before he’s even pulled your panties to the side. When his middle finger slips into your entrance with ease your face heats up - from how nice it feels to be touched by him and from the realisation of how wet you are already.

Just from flirting with him, and you can’t even see his face.

“Seems like you’re pretty into it,” he replies at once, inviting his finger deeper; rubbing against your gummy walls and getting familiar with how tight they are. The way you accept his touch so easily floods his veins with satisfaction. “How does a good girl like you end up fantasising about freaky shit like this?”

You shrug shoulders before a small moan slips from your tongue as adrenaline rush swirls inside you in the rhythm of his bare hand.

“It turns me on.”

Before you know it, Jiseok cuts open the rest of your dress, revealing your boobs in a lace bra which he immediately gets the urge to remove next. After spinning you around, he gets rid of your underwear with one swift cut too.

He slaps your ass firmly as his other hand yanks your head back by gripping the roots of your hair. You whimper from the sudden rough touch and the sound shoots pleasure straight into his core.

“You want me all over you like this?” Jiseok hisses at your ear. His hips press against your naked behind, wanting you to feel the effects you have on him.

“Yeah, I do,” you bite your lip as his spare hand, the one still covered by a black glove, gropes one of your breasts. “I want you a lot…” You mewl, trying to imagine the way his eyes shut from the way you rub your ass against him as an invitation.

“You better be nice to your favorite Ghostface, doll,” he threatens and you can hear the twisted grin in his erotic voice, “you know what happens to girls who don’t behave as they should.”

He smacks your ass one more time and tells you to run to the bedroom.

You’re waiting on your bed when he walks in.

The black robe is gone, but the Ghostface mask is still in tact. He’s in a pair of black jeans with no shirt on and you eat up the sight of his abs on display.

One hand is bare while the other - not. The one hidden by the black glove goes around your throat as you stick out your pink tongue to wet two of his naked fingers.

“Fuck, you’ll look so hot with my dick in your mouth.” He groans as you suck all the way to his knuckles. He loves how you’re constantly staring at him as if you worship him; even after he empties your mouth and slides his hand down your figure. “I’m gonna fuck you the way you deserve it, you know that, right, doll?”

You gasp when the same two fingers that you kissed so softly enter you at the same time. Quickly and smoothly, they speed up the pace, causing your head to threaten to fall back, but Jiseok's grip doesn't allow that.

“That means Ghostface is gonna fuck you like a whore.”

Both of you start to notice squelching noises as Jiseok's fingertips continue thrusting as he keeps them deep and curled up at a nice angle. Only until they pull out and lightly slap your thigh.

The sensation arised so quickly and intense that you weren’t aware that you still haven't given an answer. The realisation hits you once the clothed fingers around your neck squeeze for the first time since they got a hold of you.

“Ah, y-yes—“ Your mouth stays open as his grip doesn’t loosen up. “Yes, fuck me however you want,” the corners of your lips curl as you breathe through your mouth, “I'd love to be Ghostface's slut.”

Jiseok chuckles with his usual boyish laughter that always sounds so erotic even behind this mask.

He fills you up again without needing to look down at the way you arch your back, greedy to have him all the way in. He feels you wetting his palm more and more as you start to clench harder around his moving knuckles.

“Desperate, aren’t we?” He smirks as your whines rise higher. In response his fingers aim deeper, - if that's even possible, - rougher to the point your thighs begin to shake soon enough. “Gonna beg for it? Will you fuckin’ beg for my cock?”

Your one hand clasps around his arm, not fighting back any of this, just having the need to hold onto something, as the coming climax makes your mind spiral.

“Yes, yes, y-yes, please, give it to me—” you chant, feeling the rush finally overflow while also stealing your ability to say anything more.

Your breathing wasn’t as restricted as it could have been, but in addition to the sudden explosion of pleasure, it still made you feel a bit woozy.

You fall on your back, but Jiseok speaks out:

“Let me see you then.” He stands up and takes off his jeans in the meantime.

“Please,” kneeling at the centre of the bed you don't waste any time to obey his wish, “please, give me your cock, I want it so bad.”

Jiseok tilts his head; clearly not approving of that attempt. But he likes the way you move closer though, like you're chasing him.

“Please, Mr. Ghostface.” You stop at once and level your face with his crotch. “I don’t want to get punished,” you blink up innocently, making a pause, “or die.”

Your hand crawls up his thigh. His boner is tempting you, it’s so vivid and appealing. Twitching ever so slightly against your palm once you touch it for the first time. Wanting more, you lower your hand and run your tongue against it, really slowly so he can feel the thrill sneaking through the cotton fabric.

“Maybe I'll spare your life if you take it down your throat.” He groans as his hand pushes your face further into his boner. The way you humm softly as his length grinds against your features makes him almost want to throw away the mask so he can kiss you, but he resists. “How does that sound to you?” He lifts your chin up and feels an instant satisfaction once you open your mouth before he’s even asked.

He tugs down the waistband of his underwear and holds the base of his cock as you attach your tongue under his leaking tip. Not only the thrill from feeling you salivating for him spreads warmth underneath his skin, but also your hazed eyes that won't stop gazing up at his masked face.

“Feels nice, baby,” he utters as you suck half of his length slowly with hollowed cheeks and lips sliding steadily. “But you won't save your life if you keep licking like a kitten.”

You breathe in deeply before pushing yourself further, but Jiseok is already placing hands on the sides of your head to help out both of you.

“There you go”, he chuckles before groaning loudly, glancing down to see you motionless and slobbering around him. “This look fits you better.”

His cock glides back before it invades your tight throat again, then again, causing it to produce muffled mewls which vibrate against him delightfully.

Although his moaning can't be heard exactly the way you want, because of the hooded mask and the way his fingers press onto your ears to keep you steady, you can still tell his deep voice sounds very captivating in such intimate state.

The longer he fucks your mouth, the higher his moans elevate until they turn into one drawned out fuck as he pulls out, leaving you gasping for air.

You sit down while coughing when you notice the swinging string of spit still connecting you to his cock. Jiseok breaks it off by laying on top of you, slowly stroking his slick length to maintain control over the rush.

If it was any other other day, he would probably have you doggy style. But it's not, so he slips into you in a missionary position, but far from a romantic one.

“Fuck, Jiseok—” you whine through hitched breaths. You don't know how every time you moan his name like that his insides swirl from pride and excitement. “God, I'm gonna cum—”

You feel like you're having a fever; like something inside you is about to explode in million pieces. Your thighs are sweating as his strong arms stay locked around your legs that are hanging over his shoulders.

Every time the head of his dick hits the desired spot as you try to keep blinking up at his mask you tense harder; more eagerly as you lose control over your voice that begins to quiver.

“You sound so pretty for me,” Jiseok mumbles under his breath. He does his best to not slow down the merciless pace of his hips so he can hear you crumble below him all over again. “Where's the magic word, huh? Can't even speak properly anymore, is that it...”

“Shit—“ you squeeze eyes, regaining composure as the knot in your tummy is seconds away from bursting. “Please,” your hands wrap around the sheets in desperation as you whisper, “please, let me cum, n-need it...”

“Gonna cum for Ghostface again, huh slut?”

He laughs after he hears your disjointed answer, but just a moment later his own groans mix pleasantly with your overwhelmed cries.

He keeps your shaking legs as still as they can be while his eyes don't want to miss a single flinch of your uncontrollable squirming.

It's such a challenge not to cum too as you hold onto him so strongly, but he endures the bittersweet pain from wanting to have his fun with you for longer. You've gotten so sensitive and by the way you smile at him like you're getting high on all of this he's positive you want to continue too.

“Told you to keep your mouth open for me, doll,” he reminds you with his voice turning more hoarse, more impatient too as he can't wait to fill it up with his arousal.

You part your lips while sensing every second of the way his restless thrusting creates that familiar knot of buzzing pleasure from the start, but way more luxurious and powerful than the previous.

“Let me see that cute tongue.” His hand moves to hug your neck the same moment your wobbly legs drop around his lower body. He wants to apply some force to hear your whimpers break as you cum around him one more time. “Yea, told you to do as I say, baby, didn't I? What if I grab my knife and fuck you with the handle instead? Would you like that?!”

“No,” you manage to respond as your dazed eyes, half-shut, roam around the close view of the unsettling mask, “your dick, p-please—” you were going to say something more than that, but the hand in black restricts more of your oxygen as you reach yet another unbelievable peak.

The moment Jiseok sees your eyes roll back, he lets go of your throat to let you take a needed breath while clenching around him like never before. His hips push into you almost leisurely now with the little amount of force he has left as you come down from the new high.

You’re both panting together; you from several intense orgasms, he - from all the energy he released on you, and from how little he needs in order to cum.

You're still processing it all when out of the blue Jiseok takes off the Ghostface mask and throws it on the floor.

For the first time tonight you see his face and your excited heart skips a beat.

You see his skin glistening from sweat, his black hair falling messily and sticking to his wet forehead. He quickly runs fingers through it to push his bangs away as he settles between your open legs.

Once he locks eyes with you, he doesn’t let go of that contact and neither do you.

His flat tongue licks up your folds slowly, earning a taste of the mixture you created from your own fluids, and you don’t know what was the last straw for your mind to shut off completely - his sparkling gaze lingering on your face or his mouth burying itself further into you. The tip of his tongue sneaks into your stretched entrance that’s still pulsing for him, eager to taste more of your sweet juices.

You moan softly at the gentle motions that toy with your sensitivity seconds before his lips detach.

“Fuck, this pussy just can’t get enough,” he murmurs against your warm flesh before sucking sensually on your swollen clit.

And oh how good his plump lips feel as he tugs on it while humming blissfully from your taste.

Your fingers go into his soft hair and pull harshly than expected which causes Jiseok to groan as he’s guiding his tongue through your slickness; slurping what he can before spitting it out onto your clit.

“Damn, baby girl, you look like you're out of your mind.” His husky whisper shoots a warm thrill through your core before he moves on his knees, watching in awe how you arch your spine at the sudden presence of his fingers.

He listens to the wet noises filling the room, blending with your heavy panting that's turning quicker as he pumps harder. He noticed which angle makes you louder, and he's fully focused on remaining there.

“I am! Fuck—” your body can't help but squrim out of your control as the burning knot starts to pulse dangerously. Jiseok's spare hand presses down your tummy while the one busy with your g-spot maintains its sharp movements. “Jiseok—”

His name follows by a silent gasp and Jiseok glances up, distracted for a second by a light pain - your hand seized his arm, causing your nails to mark his skin with a reddish line from the sudden quick gesture.

The way you cry out at the ceiling makes him instantly get a hold of his twitching cock. His fist twists around it gently as he massages your vulnerable walls until the rush inside you fades down slightly.

Once your eyes meet, Jiseok quickens the hand around his length and crawls on top of you till he reaches your chest.

“I'm so thirsty,” you blink up at his hovering figure while your hands slide up his hips. The sounds of his fist are intense and lewd above you meanwhile your voice comes out delicate and tired. “For your cum, I wanna taste it so bad.”

The innocent ring in your tone is Jiseok's final breaking point.

“Give it to me.”

And as he gazes down at the way you stick out your tongue in anticipation, and at the way you tilt your chin up so his cum can freely go down your throat, he feels like he's out of his mind too.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

#kinktober #kinktober 2024 #— writing: xdinary heroes #ghostface!gaon #ghostface au #xdinary heroes smut #kwak jiseok smut #gaon smut #jiseok x reader #jiseok hard thoughts #gaon hard thoughts #gaon x reader #xdinary heroes x reader #xdh x reader #xdh smut

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albaskies · 1 month ago

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hehe i loved your short hinny fic!! it was soo great!! ❤️❤️❤️ can you please write another hinny fic, maybe hbp and include lots of yearning from harry 🙈🙈 whether that yearning is satisfied is completely up to you!!

thank you so much, anon, that's very kind ❤️ i managed to scramble something up based on your prompt, and had lots of fun doing it. i couldn't make hbp work, so i hope you don't mind i went with early dh instead. i hope you enjoy some angsty yearning courtesy of our very own hj potter!

***

Don’t look at her.

Harry repeats those words to himself like a mantra as he absent-mindedly stacks different kinds of desserts on his plate. The air under the marquee has become thicker now that several guests have stood up to dance, and Harry has started to feel very uncomfortable in Barny Weasley’s sweatier-than-normal body.

He grunts at the dessert selection available on the buffet table, wondering what kind of boring wedding does not serve treacle tart. But then again, he has never been to a wedding before, so what does he know, really.

He walks away in search of somewhere to sit down, carefully trying to shut down his peripheral vision, his gaze dutifully fixed right in front of him.

Don’t look at her.

Since after the ceremony, he has decided to avoid looking at the dance floor at all costs. He is convinced this is the safest way to keep his mind clear, without being distracted by stupid promises made to stupid best mates, or by the temptation to throttle big-headed Quidditch players - nobody in particular, of course.

He slouches in the first empty chair he finds, his eyes focused on his plate and the assortment of sweets he is never going to eat. He nervously starts drumming with his fingers on the table, while conversation and laughter bubble all around him.

He could take a look at the dancefloor, he reckons, just to check that Ron and Hermione have not started bickering. A quick peek won’t hurt anybody, right?

Do not. Look. At her.

Except that he cannot not look at her. He cannot help but make silly excuses to steal a glance at her every now and then; he cannot help but look for her in the colourful crowd. He cannot help but know exactly where she is under the marquee, even when he is talking to somebody else, when he is eating a bite, or when she is joining Luna in her extravagant dance.

Because Ginny is pure, burning light. He is drawn to her like a flower is drawn to the sun, and he does not know how to contain this dangerous feeling building up in his chest. It’s powerful, urgent, and it makes his heart ache like never before.

Defeated by his own sorry arse, he looks up and quickly scans the room, trying to convince himself that he is actually checking on Ron and Hermione. He is not fooling anyone, really.

It only takes him a split second to find her. Because this time she is not talking to somebody else, or eating a bite, or dancing with Luna. This time she is right there in front of him. No, she is actually walking towards him.

Oh bloody hell.

The room seems to blur around her, its noise and chaos fading to a hum as Harry helplessly watches her drawing closer and closer.

He wishes he had the strength to stop her, he really does. But there’s only so much that a man can do when the woman he loves walks towards him surrounded by that golden aura of light, so painfully beautiful, so painfully real.

And just like that, she sits in the empty chair right next to him. She doesn't say anything, yet he understands everything.

Silence has always been easy with Ginny. It has been easy for longer than he can remember.

He really should have known, the miserable prat. He should have known that love is a quiet, secret language shared through the simplest of glances. Love is moving together without speaking and understanding each other in a way that no one else ever could. He should have known that clammy hands, fumbling conversations and awkward silences over hot chocolate at Madam Puddifoot’s are an absolute pile of nothing compared to this.

And yet - he couldn’t have known, could he, that he would have found love in a hard, blazing gaze, in the sweet sound of laughter lingering in the air, in little elbows and butter dishes, in a gloriously setting sun. Maybe the realisation would not have struck him so hard, if he had. And maybe, with Ginny, he cannot have it in any other way.

He does not know for how long they remain sitting like that, a foot from each other, without uttering a single word. Their bodies are not remotely touching, and yet he feels engulfed by her, by her flowery scent, by her blazing and unwavering light. Their bodies are not even touching, and yet he feels her warmth everywhere on his body, under his skin, brushing his soul.

The other guests might think he looks like a miserable sod, stiffly glued to his chair just to be around her, just to drink her in for one more minute.

Or maybe they just think he is the weird cousin who creeps on younger girls at family functions. Whatever. He is not even sure he cares.

After all, she has not left yet. She is, too, sitting there on the edge of her chair, incapable of walking away. She stays, and that’s all that matters to him.

A sudden glint of yellow, and Harry notices Luna waving at Ginny from the crowd, calling her to the dance floor.

They both sigh. The spell of silent and blissful oblivion around them is broken once again.

‘I think I’m going to join Luna,’ Ginny says quietly.

He is so grateful, like a pathetic, smitten idiot, to hear her voice again. Even if what she says rips a hole through his heart.

When she finally does get up from her chair, it looks like she is wearing a weighted vest around her shoulders. He feels something breaking inside of him.

‘Oh.’ He chokes, clears his throat. ‘Yeah. Have fun.’

Her beautiful, sad eyes linger on him for a moment too long before she gives him a curt nod, and slowly walks away.

What a stupid thing to say, he tells himself. What a stupid, idiotic thing to say, when all he should have done instead was ask her, please stay. Please don’t go, please don’t leave me. I can’t bear to be away from you, I just can’t let you go. I’m sorry. I love you. Do you hear me? I love you. I am so sorry.

A miserable man, he is. A miserable, miserable man who is about to go on a suicide mission but has to push away the only person who makes him feel truly invincible.

Would it be so bad to dive into the crowd, grab her hand, hold her close to his chest, and drown in that blissful oblivion again? Would it be so bad to kiss her soft, burning red lips, horrifying all the guests and the Weasleys together, hearing someone try and remedy the scandal by explaining that Oh but he’s not really a cousin, you know, more of a distant relative.

Maybe he really should go in there, ask her to run away with him and be just the two of them forever, forget about Dumbledore’s instructions, sod all this Chosen One nonsense. Choose his own happiness, just this once.

But then a silver lynx brings the news that the Ministry’s fallen and chaos unravels. He later ends up wondering to himself if those stupid, idiotic words will be the last ones he will ever say to her.

#hinny #harry x ginny #missing moment #deathly hallows #they'll get their happy ending #eventually #for now just let them be angsty #ginny weasley #harry potter

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tikosblogg · 5 months ago

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Can I put in a request where you and Noah are at the same party/club and somebody puts something your drink, and he just so he opens to be near you when you’re getting dizzy, and you ask him for help? I totally see Noah doing everything in his power to help a girl who has been roofied. Also I love your writing!❤️

ABSOLUTELY! This is definitely Noah coded. Noah would totally help any woman he saw this happening to. Thank you🥰

Summary: your best friend is dating Matt the tour manager for bad omens, and she brings you along to one of there parties where you’re roofied, and have to ask Noah for help.

Warning/TW: alcohol consumption, being drugged(plz don’t read if that triggers you), protective Noah, TINY bit of violence?? Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: I feel like Noah would definitely do this for a woman, whether he knows her or not.

The air was thick and the sound of laughter and music bled into the night from the small, dimly-lit bar. Droplets of condensation rolled down the cool glass of your half-empty drink as you leaned against the polished wood of the bar.

Tara, your best friend, her cheeks rosy from a cocktail she was drinking, was perched on a stool next to you. She had dragged you along to this party thrown by none other than Bad Omens—a band you had been obsessed with since high school.

You had waited patiently, hoping for the moment when Tara would introduce you to the band, but they were constantly wrapped up in conversations with other friends and associates. “I’m sorry, y/n I didn’t know they’d be so busy.” She slurred, her eyebrows furrowing in pity.

You shook your head with a small laugh at her intoxicated state. “It’s fine Tara, I promise. I can meet them another time.” You did your best to suppress the feeling of disappointment. There would be other opportunities, and tonight, you promised yourself, you would have fun regardless.

As the night unfolded, you nursed your second drink while Tara giggled and stumbled about, her laughter infectious, pulling you into the joy of the evening. You met some interesting people and shared stories that made the night feel surreal.

Suddenly, Matt, the band’s charming tour and production manager, and also Tara’s boyfriend broke through the crowded space, a warm smile gracing his face. He wrapped an arm around Tara, steadying her on her feet.

"I see you two had fun," he chuckled, looking down at her. “C’mon I’ll get you two home.” The affectionate way he regarded Tara made your heart swell for her. He threw her over his shoulder, leaving a playful smack to her ass, as she giggled.

You waved your hand at them, giggling at the sight in front of you. “I’ll meet you outside, I just need to use the bathroom!” Matt nodded, and they began to weave through the colorful crowd.

You turned back toward the bar, finishing off your drink and scrunching your nose at the unexpected bitterness that lingered at the back of your throat. It was strange, but you shook it off as you made your way to the restroom.

Once inside, you handled business quickly before approaching the sink to wash your hands. However, as you turned the tap, a wave of dizziness crashed over you like a sudden tide, knocking you off balance. Panic shot through your chest. Something doesn’t feel right. You only had two drinks. You stared at yourself in the mirror, and started to piece together that strange taste in your drink; someone must have slipped something in it when you were turned away.

Your heartbeat thrummed in your ears as you grabbed your phone, desperate to contact Tara or Matt. Stumbling out of the bathroom, the corridor stretched out in front of you like a maze, and you desperately leaned against the wall for support. You were spiraling now, your surroundings a blur.

Suddenly, the sound of the men’s room door creaked open. A tall figure emerged, and you squinted through your haze to see Noah Sebastian, looking at you with a playful smile. “Somebody had too much to drink.” You shook your head, reaching your hand out towards him. If you couldn’t get to Matt or Tara, you knew you’d be safe with Noah.

His laughter died instantly as he noticed your panicked expression. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked reaching for you, and stepping closer, a frown taking over his features. He noticed the tears forming in your eyes, and running down your cheek. “Hey it’s okay.”

You shook your head weakly, trying to speak but the words fell out in a slur. “Someone… put something in my drink,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

His demeanor shifted in an instant, anger etching deep in his eyes. “What the fuck? Okay. You’re going to be okay. I’m right here,” he assured you, wrapping a strong arm around your waist as you wavered.

“Who’d you come with?” he cupped your cheek, bringing your blurry eyes up to his, his voice steady amidst your rising panic.

“Matt… and Tara,” you mumbled, desperation creeping into your voice. Your hands gripped his shirt tight, terrified of being taken away.

He paused briefly, recognition flickering across his face. “Y/n?” A faint light of realization sparked in his eyes. Matt had told him, that Tara was bringing you with her tonight. You nodded, your head feeling 1000 pounds. You leaned forward pressing your forehead against his chest as you felt your knees begin to buckle beneath you.

“Shit” he grunted, holding you tighter. Before you realized what he was doing, he hoisted you into his arms, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. You brought your heavy arms up and around his neck, holding on tightly. You felt dizzy, your world slowly dimming as the edges of your vision faded into darkness.

Just then, a rough-sounding guy approached, his eyes dead set on your shaking body, as you heard his deep voice from behind you. “Hey man thanks for finding her she’s with me.” he smiled at Noah, reaching out to pull you from his arms. Your body trembled in horror, as you shook your head weakly sobbing into Noah’s neck, your hands fisting his shirt against his back.

You tried to speak, but your mouth was dry, and completely numb. Noah knows nothing about you. He could hand you off to this creep, thinking he’s saving you, when really he would be unknowingly confirming your possible death.

Noah’s eyes turned icy, his grip tightening protectively around you. “Get the fuck out of my way. You’re the piece of shit that did this to her aren’t you?” he growled, anger radiating off him. Noah body went tense against you.

If he wasn’t holding you in his arms right now, he would beat the fuck out of this creep. He took a deep breath, remembering that you and getting you out of here, was what was important right now.

The stranger’s bravado crumbled in the face of Noah’s fury, panic flickering across his features “I’m her friend dude, she came here with me!” He defended, crossing his arms. Noah knew who you came with, and even you confirmed it.

He decided to test him anyways. “Oh yeah? What’s her name?” The guy became flustered, before shaking his head. “I don’t have to tell you shit man, just give her to me.” He huffed, and went to step towards Noah.

Noah instantly kicked up his right leg, kicking the dude right in his dick. Usually Noah would think that’s a low blow, but his hands were kind of occupied at the moment, and he needed to get the dude on the ground. Noah went to walk away with you until he turned around, landing another kick right in the dudes ribs for good measure.

You felt weak, your eyelids growing heavy, and just as the world began to dim in earnest, Noah’s voice broke through the haze. “I’ve got you, sweetheart, hold on.”

In your daze, you felt him stride confidently through the crowd, shielding you from curious eyes, his strong arms cradling you against his chest like you weighed nothing. He suddenly stopped, as you barely heard his voice.

Noah stopped, talking to Jolly and Nicholas. “There is a guy on the ground in the hallway. Go stay with him and do not let him leave! I’ll explain later.!” The two men instantly nodded, and headed towards the hallway.

That was the last thing you heard, before finally succumbing to the sleepiness you tried so hard to fight.

Outside, noah spotted Matt, beelining straight for him. Matt’s worried voice, filled the air, as Noah approached. “Woah what happened??” He opened the back door, letting Noah gently place you on the seats.

A sudden rush of relief filled his body, as he closed the car door, knowing you were safe. He turned towards Matt, running a hand through his hair. “Some ass hole slipped something in her drink. I just so happened to walk out of the bathroom, while she was stumbling down the hall.”

Matt’s eyes widened, as he looked towards your limp body in the backseat of his car, and back to Noah’s seething frame. “Holy shit dude, I shouldn’t have left her. I should have waited on her.” Matt covered his face with his hands, as the guilt ate at him.

Noah shook his head, ready to go back into the party, to beat the fuck out of that creep before he called the cops. “No, it shouldn’t have fucking happened here. Somebody fucking brought him here, and I wanna know who, I’m gonna take care of him, you get her to the hospital.”

Matt nodded his head without another word before, jumping in the car, and speeding out of the parking lot, while Noah made his way back into the building making damn sure this guy pays for what he did to you.

#noah sebastian #bad omens #noah sabastian smut #badomensimagines #noahsebastiancult #bad omens cult #imagines #bad omens band #bad omens smut #nick folio #joakim jolly karlsson #nicholas ruffilo

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kitasgloves · 1 year ago

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hii!!um can you mb do comforting your bf pt3?If you can include sunarin or kei. I know you have more requests n probably personal work so,of course ,no need to hurry !! <3

comforting your insecure bf

part 1 . part 2 . part 4

— ♬ NSFW, MINORS DNI, gn reader, based on this post

— ♬ hi anon thank you for requesting i hope you like it !

— ♬ Suna Rintaro

Suna Rintaro's first encounter with you wasn't anything spectacular. There's no spark, no butterflies in his stomach, no reaction. He just viewed you as another human in the world. You were friends with the Miya brothers so it was inevitable that one of the brothers was going to introduce you to him. It was through his best friend Osamu Miya that he met you.

He thinks you're cool, he doesn't expect anything from you. Suna only saw you as a friend, right? Well, that was before he began spending more time with you. In the beginning, it was him, Osamu, and you. Sometimes Atsumu joined. Then all of a sudden the Miya twins were out of the equation and the two of you started hanging out.

You matched his vibe perfectly. You shared the same sense of humor, you were clever and quick with rebuttals to his remarks, and you had a sweet side that made his insides feel like mush. Before he knew it, Suna was hanging out more with you than his best friend and he gets teased for it.

"I think yer fallin' in love with [Name]"

Yeah, right. It's not true. You only give him the prettiest smiles and the most contagious laugh. The playful glimmer in your eyes, the way you would reach for his hand when you're nervous, how you lean on his shoulder when you're getting sleepy when watching a movie, he can smell your perfume, your shampoo, he can feel your warmth, and see the color of your lips...oh shit. Osamu is right, he is falling in love with you.

But there's no fucking way he's going to admit it. The way Suna sees it, you're too good for him. He's an asshole, a mean and sarcastic piece of shit. You're a special and genuine person that he doesn't deserve. He's been thinking about his feelings for you lately up until the Miya twins' birthday.

He deliberately planned to get wasted, maybe find somebody else to make him forget about his stupid crush on you. But his attempt was futile because, in the crowded room, his eyes still searched for you. And the fact that you immediately meet his eyes was so unfair, you make him so weak. Yet he doesn't crumble. He stubbornly avoids you.

"Rin! Hey! Why are you avoiding me?"

"Fuck off, [Name]"

Suna slurred as he tried to get away from you, terrified that if he lets you reach him he'll confess. He finishes his cup of alcohol when you finally catch him, as he gazes at you, his blood goes cold. There were tears in your eyes and you were gripping his arm.

"Why are you avoiding me? Did I do something wrong?"

You asked, your tone desperate and Suna's heart just shatters. Jesus, he is a certified dick. Even in his drunk state, he tries to keep it together to tell you that you haven't done anything wrong.

"Really?"

"Yeah, M'sorry [Name]"

"Oh thank god"

You hugged him, incredibly relieved. Suna was quick to return the embrace, burying his face against your neck, almost feeling his eyes go wet. And in a spur-of-the-moment or his fear of almost losing you, Suna pulls away and crashes his lips against yours in a silent confession. There was a muffled squeak from you. He thinks he's dreaming when he feels you kiss him back. Suna thinks he's incredibly drunk when he ends up going home with you.

"Babe, are you listening?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry. I was too busy staring at your pretty face"

"Ugh, fucking cheeseball"

You laughed and smacked his shoulder. Ever since the kiss, the two of you hit it off. Suna wouldn't have expected to be with you, but he's over the moon. Romance wasn't his strongest suit yet you made him feel like it is. He has never wanted to kiss someone so bad every day in his life. Never he has experienced being so head over heels for someone that it's ridiculous.

Everything felt so right. But Suna begins to think it's a lie. He's convinced that he doesn't deserve to be with you after everything. You and him weren't a perfect couple, you would have arguments that would start from something so minuscule into fully serious. Suna would find himself intentionally hurting you with his venomous insults, but you were strong and unwavering. It would be a while until Suna's self-sabotage brings out the worst of him.

He has hurt you, this time he did. He fucked up bad when he sees your wide eyes as tears gradually built up. But this time, he doesn't apologize, he lets you walk out the door and think it's over. He ends up alone in his room quietly crying to himself, gazing at his pathetic reflection on his mirror. On the least of his expectations, you return.

"Rintaro?"

Suna loved the way you called his name but he doesn't face you. He's filled with shame and guilt and you coming back to him after the shit he told you was a testament that he truly doesn't deserve you.

"Why the fuck are you here?"

"Please, let's talk, Rin"

"I don't wanna"

"Please, I want to fix this. I don't this to end"

You see the way Suna's lip wobbles. You carefully walked over to him and hugged him from behind, sharing your warmth with him. Suna blinks away the tears as he leans against your touch.

"I don't deserve you, [Name]"

"Rintaro..."

"I'm nothing but a stupid fucking asshole"

"Rin, you're not"

"For fuck's sake [Name]! I made you cry!"

"I know you don't mean it, Rin"

You nuzzled your face against his neck. Suna sighs, it was hard trying to resist you.

"I'm sorry, [Name]..."

"It's okay, babe"

"I...Are you sure you don't want to break up with me?"

"Yeah, want me to prove it to you?"

You said. Suna raised a brow, unsure of what you meant until he felt your hands tugging on the hems of his pants. In a span of a minute, he's moaning in front of his bedroom mirror with his cock out and your hands around it. You carefully pumped his length, purposely edging him.

"[Name], ah! Shit!"

Suna hissed. He hears you chuckle from behind. You planted butterfly kisses from his shoulder up to his neck.

"[Name], fuck"

Your boyfriend moans. You slowly begin to jerk him off faster, he throws his head back and whines.

"Rintaro, I love you so much. I love every part of you"

"I love your cheezy jokes, your sweet smile, and even your big and mean face"

"I love your eyes, your hair, your face, your lips, and especially your cock"

Suna groans, his face heats up from the compliment. Gently, your hands went to cup his balls and he drools like a fool drunk on lust.

"Hnngh, [Name]"

"I will love you forever for who you are, even with all the bad parts"

"[Name]"

He calls out for you in desperation, desperate for his sweet release. As your hand trailed back to his cock, you started to pump him swiftly. Suna's hips bucked forward as he watched himself lose to the pleasure in front of the mirror. His hair was sweaty and messy, the precum dripping down on his length was nasty, as his moans grew breathy.

"Are you gonna cum, Rin?"

"Ooooh yes! Fuck yes!"

"Come on baby, let go. I'm all yours"

You softly told him as his eyes rolled back. Suna convulsed as he cums around your warm hand. His cum shoots out everywhere, on his abdomen, your hand, and even his pants. Suna felt like he died and went back to life. His chest rises and falls as he meets your sweet eyes through the mirror.

"Holy shit"

"Are you okay, Rintaro?"

"More than okay, babe. That was fucking hot"

You laughed. Suna pounces on you to kiss you, he towers over you on his bed as he starts whispering 'I love you' to you with every kiss. Everything was all sweet and romantic until you can feel his cock hardening as it rubbed against your leg. You gulped as Suna sent you a devilish smile.

— ♬ Tsukishima Kei

Tsukishima Kei had no room for romance in his life. He only poured his focus on his work and volleyball. He occasionally hung out with his friends so he wasn't some miserable and workaholic man. He thinks the universe loves shitting on him when he was constantly surrounded by couples wherever he went. On the way to his work, in the museum, at the grocery store, and even scrolling on the internet. The persistent image of lovestruck couples irritated him to no end, especially when one of his friends recently came out that they became an official couple (thank god one of them went back to Brazil and the other migrated to Italy).

Tsukishima was waiting for all of this bullshit to die down until he was reunited with you. Great, just what he fucking needed. It was a dark secret that he had a fat crush on you back in high school, you were his senior then. You were popular because people were drawn to your beauty, kindness, and alluring personality. Tsukishima felt ashamed for falling victim to your charms. Admittedly, he tried to subtly pursue you then but ultimately stopped after you graduated high school and went to university. And here he thinks he's over you.

"Oh my god, Kei is that you?"

Shit. You have spotted him at the museum. He awkwardly stands there and lets you run to him with that big smile of yours.

"It's been so long!"

"...It has"

"I didn't know you worked here! How have you been?"

You and Tsukishima briefly caught up with each other's lives. It was true you and him go way back and were close, and it still feels like it to this day. Tsukishima hates to admit how he missed talking to you. Something about your genuine demeanor pulls him back to you.

"Do you want to go grab drinks later?"

Say no

"Sure, I'm free after my shift"

Oh you fucking idiot

"Great! Let's meet at the bar nearby!"

His heart skips a beat when he sees that beautiful bright smile on your face. It kept appearing in his mind as he continued on his day. Tsukishima grew impatient as he constantly glanced at his watch, wishing that time would go by faster. After his shift at the museum, he rushes to the bar and finds you waiting for him there.

The two of you ate and drank beer, swapping stories and sharing jokes. Being here with you reignited his attraction to you. Tsukishima couldn't help but notice everything about you. Your hair, your clothes, the smell of your perfume, god, he felt like a creep. It was getting late and both of you got fairly tipsy. You finished your cup of beer when you smiled at him with flushed cheeks.

"You know, I used to have a crush on you back then"

You admitted. Tsukishima nearly choked on his beer as he gazes at you wide-eyed and his glasses tilted.

"...Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, you were handsome and not to mention a smartass, I'm pretty sure everyone had a crush on you"

You shrugged. Tsukishima ignores the way his heart skipped a beat, he swallows nervously and looks at you.

"Didn't think you'd genuinely have a crush on me, I thought you think I'm an asshole"

"Well you are, a handsome asshole"

You chuckled and looked at him in the eye. Tsukishima knew this was his moment, to tell you how he's been in love with you for a long time. He sucks in a breath.

"You know, I know someone who's got a big fat crush on you for a long time..."

"Oh? Who?"

"You know him and he's an idiot"

"Hmm, is it your best friend Yamaguchi?"

"No"

"How about your other friends Kageyama and Hinata?"

"Nah, those two just became a couple"

"Oh, congratulations to them! Who could it be?"

He waited for you to guess right but it never came, much to his heart's disappointment.

"Are you lying to me, Kei?"

"No...ugh, I give up"

"What? Just tell me who it is!"

"It's me, you dumbass!"

You went silent and it made Tsukishima's stomach drop. The look of shock on your face scared him. How will you react? He has no clue what will it be. And then you laughed.

"Oh my god, are you serious?"

"Yeah..."

"And here I thought my feelings would never be reciprocated"

"Huh?"

Tsukishima looked at you dumbfounded. You sighed and reached to touch his hand across the table.

"I've been in love with you too for a long time, you dingus"

Suddenly, Tsukishima has room for his romantic life with you. Before he realizes it, he's just like those disgusting couples he gets surrounded by everywhere he goes. It felt so surreal to hold your hand while you two walked down the street. It seemed so unreal when you shared a kiss under the moonlight. He believed he lived in a dream when you told him you loved him. Because the truth is, Tsukishima thinks he doesn't deserve it.

The reason why he didn't have room for romance is because he's convinced he's unlovable. That on the surface is just a smart guy with a massive height, athletic abilities, and a smug attitude, and beyond that, he's nothing special. Tsukishima knows he's an absolute jerk who doesn't back down on rebuttals and insults. He's got a sharp tongue and an intelligent mouth. Why would someone love a guy like him?

Tsukishima distances himself from you since he formed those insecure thoughts. He gradually drifts away from you to the point that he refuses to meet up with you. He tries to return to his life before. Maybe you'll take the hint and replace him with someone better, someone who's significantly kinder than him, someone who's lovable.

There's a sudden bang on his apartment door. He groans and drags his feet to the door, when he opens it, he sees your enraged face.

"Why the hell are you not answering my calls and messages?!"

You shouted at him. Tsukishima takes a step back, surprised by your sudden appearance. You jabbed a finger at his chest.

"I've been worried sick about you! I thought something bad happened to my boyfriend!"

"Stop yelling, you're disturbing the neighbors"

"Not until you tell me what the hell is going on!"

You placed your hands on your hips and glared at him. Tsukishima holds back a groan and runs a hand down his face, he shuts the door behind you as he tries to lie about everything he's been through.

"I was sick and I didn't want to disturb you"

"You could've sent me a quick text then I would've understood. Ghosting me all of a sudden is so immature of you"

"I understand, I'm sorry"

You exhaled as you both sat on his bed, you crawled behind him to give him a loving embrace. Tsukishima could feel his heart racing at the tender act.

"I want to know if something's bothering you, Kei. I want you to be honest with me please"

You said quietly. Guilt floods his heart as Tsukishima debates whether to admit the truth. He didn't want to make you feel bad so he decided to be a man and tell you everything. He expected you to make fun of him or look at him differently but instead, you accepted him with open arms.

"Kei, baby, you're not unlovable"

"Oh please [Name], I'm a fucking jerk"

"And that's why I love you"

"Can you stop lying, [Name]?"

"I'm not lying!"

You huffed from behind him, glaring at him through the mirror before his bed. You wanted to knock some sense out of your giant boyfriend and show him how lovable he was. Tsukishima sees you smiling through the mirror as your hands grab the zipper of his pants.

"Oi [Name]! What the hell are you doing?!"

Tsukishima wants to deny it. To deny how fucking good it felt when your hand wrapped around his cock. He goes hard immediately when you stroke him a few times. You bite your lip as you played with his slit, earning a groan from him.

"[Name], ah fuck!"

You went to grab his ballsack and massage it. The pleasure erupts all over his body. When he stares forward, he sees his wrecked expression in the mirror. His blonde hair was disheveled, his glasses sliding down his nose bridge, and his pants sliding down his thighs to his ankles.

"Look at yourself Kei, god you look so fucking hot"

"Shit! Oh fuck, [Name]"

Tsukishima lets out a breathless moan. When your hand returns to his dick as you start to pump him at a fast pace, he opens his mouth and lets out a high-pitched moan.

"Oh, you like that, babe?"

"[Name], please"

"I need you to stop thinking you're unlovable because you are not"

Your pace slows down. Tsukishima meets your gaze in the mirror with your hand softly stroking his cock, his face goes red.

"Kei, I know you're handsome and smart but you're considerate too"

"You're not some heartless jerk, I see how you show that you care"

"You make efforts for me, you make me happy and it pains me to know you think you're not special because you are to me"

Your pace around his length quickens and he gasps, taking in your words and accepting them in his heart.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Kei. My sweet, smart, and hot boyfriend"

"Shit, [Name]! I'm going to cum!"

"Cum for me Kei"

You commanded and he met his orgasm in a shocking wave. The electrifying pleasure shoots all over his body that he momentarily loses his breath while his cum coats your hand. As the high subsides, Tsukishima blinks at you through the mirror.

"Don't you feel better now, Kei?"

You sweetly asked and suddenly he grew shy, avoiding your eyes with a tinge of pink on his cheeks. For a huge man, he sure is adorable. You giggled and kissed him on the cheek, and the blonde sighed.

"Thank you, [Name]"

"Aw, you're welcome baby"

"How about I return the favor, I want you to be good and take your clothes off now"

It was your turn to blush as you stuttered, Tsukishima looked at you with his eyes clouded with desire. You knew better so you obeyed him and got naked as he sweetly returned the favor.

#— ♬ with love; kitasgloves #— ♬ signed by; kitasgloves #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fic #haikyuu smut #suna rintaro x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima x reader #suna x reader

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nenoname · 4 months ago

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Gravity Falls DVD Commentary Highlights

(just a huge, and I mean huge, dump of random quotes that stuck out to me, which I sorta separated into characters+their relationships and it's probably gonna be obvious that Stan is my fave lmao

I dunno how to make this legible for anyone but whatever, just take all these rando character tidbits. Stan Twin pranks! Sonployee essays! The concept for a post-Weirdmageddon episode that Alex insists is just too miserable but I want it anyway! The Pines family making me cry!)

Stan

"We love the idea of Stan [in Boss Mabel] having a minute to uh, having a context where we want to see him be his worst self and seeing his big brash personality in like a setting that everyone can understand, because the Mystery Shack is a little bit ungrounded because he's in his world of his characters, but seeing him out in the outside world is funny weird."

We really enjoyed the fact that he's as awful as ever and he's rewarded for it. We like those anti-morals where Stan uses his terribleness to succeed incredibly well.

I think it was a little hard for people to understand in the writer's room at the beginning of the series was that, even though Stan is following a lot of these tropes of being a miser, he's not grumpy. Like he actually loves being himself. He really revels in it like even though he's got some kind of sorrow inside, his kind of day-to-day like he's more about just the uncle who loves to hear himself and make dumb jokes than he is somebody who's mean or cruel or cynical per se.

The [NWHS] storyboards managed to make Stan this awesome action hero while still keeping him Stan. Like I like the fact that he steals a wallet in the middle of it. He steals a wallet, he smashes somebody against the wall, he sasses him but he also has this just great Inception moment. And it's because we're building to a big question about “who is Stan?”, I felt a moment of seeing him be kind of awesome further increases your “who is this guy?” He keeps going back and forth between like “oh geez my back” and you're like “all right that's the Stan I know” and then like “whoa, he just did an awesome jailbreak! Is he some kind of super villain? Who is he really?

There's more of Ford in Stan than I think Stan realizes that I think only comes out in certain moments.”

Why did Stan keep a clipping of himself titled “grifter at large”? I think he thought he looked cool in that picture. “You know I kind of have a Clint Eastwood look in this grifter at large photo. I think maybe I'll use this as an About the Author one day. I gotta hold on to this one. You know what, I'm a criminal but I'm a nostalgic criminal! Loving the past is my greatest crime now!”

I know how Stan feels in this [Principal talking to his family] scene, when somebody comes in and says like “You know what? There was a race you didn't know you were running and you're already behind, way behind.”

And you know even though Stan is a guy who looks like he's having a fun time, I always, in my gut, thought of him as somebody who is a huge well of sadness, a loss of human connection. And that need to please, that trying to get laughs from the crowd and constantly telling dumb jokes and you know putting on a big show in the Mystery Shack, he's trying to get from them the affection that he never got from his family and lost with his brother.

Stan has been waiting for years to have a reunion with his brother. He's always felt like a screw-up. Stan once again had an idea of how he thought things were going to go. He thought that his brother was saying “I need your help” for the first time. He's going to go up there, they're gonna have some drinks, they're gonna catch up and instead he ended up shoving his brother into another dimension and running out of food and money. It's sort of his worst nightmare. But this was Stan's entire character, from the very beginning of the series, was built around this idea that he's living with this tragedy. He's a guy who outwardly seems like he doesn't appreciate family but in fact wants it more than anything in the world and feels like maybe he's not worthy of it and would do anything to prove that he is.

Seeing Stan figure out what he's good at felt important to me. Like he's never been good at anything in his life and he makes a stupid hokey joke and it suddenly turns into a profit. I felt like without [showing how the Mystery Shack was created], I was missing something and understanding why he would do this, how this would be the solution to his problem.

We would like the idea that Stan appears to win through dumb luck, that it's sort of Intelligence versus Guts but Stan wouldn't actually bet everyone's life on a dice roll. He's a cheater! At the end of the day, I believe Stan has been thrown out of Vegas for counting cards and for weighing dies and I believe he could con his way out of any game, particularly for an obnoxious wizard like this. The idea that Stan would gamble everyone on pure chance is like no. No, he's got a plan. This is the guy who escaped prison using gravity leaps, he's got a way out.

The one big thing [The Stanchurian Candidate] does is really highlights Stan's inferiority complex compared to his brother. Part of what he's doing is he's trying to be an important man here and this episode is actually a pretty good setup in many ways for Weirdmageddon Part 3. When we see Ford they're all going on this rescue mission to rescue Ford and this episode shows you just how much Stan wants to be the hero like the reason that he can't shake Ford's hand when they're in that circle. The cold open of this where he sees everyone loves Ford and now that Ford's back, he's the best. Stan's like “well, how about I run for mayor!” It's just to boost his ego and make him feel better about himself.

Dipper and Mabel

“Straight man protagonists are really hard to write because every other character had a comedic hook. We understand that Soos is kind of this weirdo, his brain is in another place. Mabel has this exuberance and sees the best in every situation and is very creative. Stan is a crooked conman. Dipper is… the normal guy and a character like that can often feel like they don’t have agency, start to feel just reactive.

Waddles is Mabel's only love that lasts the summer. Mabel is very prone to love at first sight and Waddles is able to love back with Mabel's degree of love.

[In Sock Opera] Mabel's in love with Gabe, Dipper's in love with the Author and they're both willing to do something crazy to get get closer to that thing

There kept being layers of adjustment to make it, “okay what would it take to get Dipper to make a deal with Bill?” 1: He would have to not understand the rules of the deal. He's been tricked, he thinks he's just giving a puppet, he didn't know was himself. Classic genie rules, you get what you wish for in a way you didn't expect. 2: There's a little ticking clock that just started, which if he doesn't do it by now, he's gonna lose all this. 3: Bill rightfully points out that Mabel has been kind of not sacrificing for him and he maybe needs another ally right now 4: He was sleep deprived and actually you'll notice that Dipper blinks right before Bill arrives and that's our way of suggesting that that countdown might not have even existed

I think Dipper and Mabel are of equal exact intelligence but Dipper's insecure. He sees his accomplishments as a way to make himself better and thus is motivated to focus on things that are accomplishment type things. And Mabel is very confident and likes having fun and when she's having a good time, she has a little tunnel vision for the people and the things around her. That's one of her biggest flaws. She's actually really, really sweet when she notices and understands your pain but not when she's doing a bit, when she's doing a scene, when she's doing a gag.

Ford

Originally [the fake Author] looked a little bit more like an oddball wacky inventor and I felt he had to be pretty idiosyncratic. There's certain color things about him you'll notice. He's more or less got the color scheme of the Journal, you know maroons and golds, so that you kind of feel instinctively like maybe that's him. A lot of these motifs though we would end up using in Ford's design, as well the gloves and the coat and all that but much cooler later on but preparing you, it's Ford Lite.

Now this is there's no logical reason that Ford would break [the warnings about the portal] up into all these books this way but up until this point he's been shown as this sort of all-knowing mysterious Puzzle Master that it felt appropriate, even though it's not logical.

It works for the storytelling so when Ford wrote that, that's when he was super sleep deprived. He realized that Bill had betrayed him, he was starting to have a hard time differentiating between fantasy and reality, he was losing sleep and scribbling all sorts of lunatic serial killer looking stuff about the end of the world.

In Time Traveler’s Pig, we see what should be a young Stanford Pines even though again, the design's a little off but we knew big sideburns, bushy hair. Although that Stanford looked a little bit more swole than this guy and that's one of the what we thought were very subtle clues in season one that helped a lot of fans figure figure everything out way too soon.

[Using the memory gun on the agents scene] needs to show that Ford's really awesome and so we could get rid of the agents and show that Ford can pretty much handle anything that Stan can't and also call back to our memory ray all in one.

There was a lot of fan speculation when we first met Ford. Generally when television shows introduce a new mysterious character late in the game, they turn out to be a villain like 9 out of 10 times. They turn out to be a villain or they're there to get killed off to show the stakes of something and like we could have made Ford evil but I always felt that that would be less interesting. The point that I was trying to get to is that Stan and Ford had this relationship that fell apart and it was both of their faults and I thought that if I'm Stan, I'd be more frustrated if Ford is actually a good guy. It would drive me insane if he's pretty reasonable, pretty rational, better at me than everything.

So we've flirted with this brief moment where it seems like he's a villain and we worked really hard to make it so that like his eyes are being covered by the reflection of the light. His dialogue is ambiguous enough here that for a moment you believe what Dipper believes, which is “maybe he's possessed by Bill.” You just saw him shaking Bill's hand, what is he supposed to believe?

I like that Ford has this photo with him, he had for a really really long time all the way through multiple dimensions. And he's probably told himself- I almost imagined if McGucket found that photo in his coat while they were working on the portal or something, like “What's this here?” and Ford would say “oh yes, that's a photo of a very important moment! That's when I… that's when I first decided I want to be an inventor!” There would be no reference to the real reason he's keeping it. “This is me and my brother.” It would be like, “oh yes I was thinking about science as a horizon, a frontier to reach towards– you know like a boat, like a ship, like science! It's about science!”

Soos

You choose family. That you create over the course of your life and if that somebody earns being your family, like the Mystery Shack. These kids and Stan, they’re Soos' family and he's happy about that.

I feel like Soos gained something out of [Blendin’s Game]. He gains the knowledge that like “I'm tired of thinking about this man who I'm missing, who doesn't care about me. I'm going to concentrate on the people in front of me, the people that are my true family.”

Soos is a fan of the show even though he's in it. He's a big fan of Gravity Falls and [NWHS] killed him.

I always knew what I wanted Soos’ end to be Soos running the Mystery Shack. I imagine that Soos is actually way better at giving tours than Stan is because he loves all that stuff truly and he believes it. That's part of the difference. Stan’s like “um, all right suckers, this stagnant puddle is the befuddle puddle!” while Soos is like “yeah, one time I looked in there, I think i saw like a cyclops dude. Like, I really think I saw one! Like it might have been a reflection combining my pupils, but like?” and people are like “Whoa, really??”

McGucket

They hired a bunch of people and then they erased their memory. That’s my explanation for why there's like such amazing inventions that would take whole teams of people. McGucket secretly hired a number of contractors and erased their minds. Like I think of McGucket as being like a really sweet nice guy completely in over his head who just like “oh well, once I've erased one guy's mind, I gotta erase ten more guys’ minds to cover it up” and it just sort of builds into like “I guess I'm kind of this kingpin of crime and I'm starting a cult I didn't mean to. Whoopsy daisy!”

When we get to Ford and see their backstory and see their relationship, it just makes all the stuff that happens with the portal and what happens with Ford and all that more poignant that he had someone there who was not only his friend but also a voice of reason and telling him to stop and that he wouldn't listen to him, as opposed to Ford being down there on his own with nobody to bounce off, anybody to say “hey wait a minute, is this a good idea?”

“McGucket was the assistant and he was maybe this assistant who was sort of put upon and Ford kind of brought a college buddy together with him. You know Ford as somebody who lost Stan, and even though he rejected his brother, he kind of needs that other person and he tried to find that in this kind of sweet prodigy and he just pushed him too far.

[The test scene] is meant to show sort of what it was that McGucket needed to erase, what it was that drove him to madness. It was partially seeing the Nightmare Verse and the way it messed with his head and also partly just realizing that this thing has apocalyptic consequences and he doesn't want to be a part of it. And if he can't destroy it or talk Ford out of something, he can forget about it.

Because If Ford's weakness is pride, McGucket's weakness is weakness. He's got a kind heart and he can't stop people, he can't destroy things. I mean he should have basically knocked Ford out with a wrench and take this thing apart piece by piece. He's the one who understood how to build it but I think he's kind of a follower and I think he's the kind of person who could get suckered in by a cult leader. He’s the kind of person looking for instruction and he really respects Stanford and can't bring himself to uh, he's like “I just got out of a bunker! I don't want to go work for another guy down in another bunker! This is my third doomsday cult this year!”

Stan and the kids

Stan and Mabel have such a different life perspective it seemed natural that at some point they would get to a major conflict

Seeing Grunkle Stan and Dipper bond like, I sort of believe that both of them are bad with women and both of them would rather believe there's a giant conspiracy than that they have they just can't get ladies

Can this idea about Mabel's relationship with Waddles actually reveal a rift between Mabel and Stan where Mabel and Stan actually get along pretty well in the series you know? When they they're both such strong stubborn personalities that when they conflict, they conflict hard like in Boss Mabel. But this idea that Waddles is sort of a metaphor for what Mabel loves and Stan loves Mabel but he doesn't really think that anything she thinks is necessarily smart or right. He loves her like “guys she's my sweet niece but she doesn't know anything you know? She doesn't know anything about a pig” She forgives a lot with Stan but like Waddles sort of represents like the purity of her deepest love and the idea that Stan would threaten that is genuinely a shock

In the previous season it ends with Dipper giving up his journal and there was a lot of argument about “oh is it lame if he just gets his journal back?” Another thing we struggled with, we knew that Stan knows the importance of this journal he wouldn't give the journal back to Dipper so it was a bit of a convolution we'd written ourselves into a corner. We wrote ourselves out, we said “okay he's photocopied it. he's giving it to Dipper because he knows that Dipper's really precocious and he'll never stop asking.”

“We knew that we wanted everything to come to a head when the kids are going to discover Stan's secret and they're going to discover it in such a way that they only get little bits and pieces and they have to decide for themselves based on the limited information. Is Stan's a good guy or if he's a bad guy? Ultimately that decision will be a decision of heart versus mind. And Dipper's mind, Mabel is heart and they're fighting with the scraps of information they have. Should we trust our heart about how we feel about this guy over the course of the summer and everything we've been through or should we trust the clues? That seemed like a believable way to get Dipper and Mabel to begin a rift between them that is resolved by the end of the series.”

The way Stan acts in [NWHS] is like, to me part of what feels so grounded about it is like I'm a child of divorce and like I know that when parents or parent figures know that hard times are coming for the kids. They kind of lay it on thick they're like who wants ice cream you know what I mean? Like Stan being extra nice to them at the beginning is like it's kind of a realistic thing that that adults do when they know like big changes are coming.

I felt it was really important that we added the scene where they're at maximum bonding. They're up on the roof, they're shooting firecrackers. Stan knows in his heart that when his brother arrives everything is going to change in ways he can't predict and he's really savoring this moment because he knows, even if things goes completely smoothly, which they don't. the kids are still going to be mad at him, especially Dipper for basically lying. They had this big meeting after the end of Scaryoke where of course Dipper also crossed his finger but Stan crosses his fingers and says “oh I'm telling you everything” and he knows that the kids are not going to be happy about the fact that he's been keeping this all from them because they've done amazing things together already and he should have trusted them before now.

This act break is them saying, “wait, Stan might be a random grifter who maybe killed our real uncle!” That's pretty heavy for any show let alone a cartoon show.

What that would mean for them if all this stuff is true is so much further than just like, “oh he lied to us about a couple things.” It's just like, “no he's straight up just some random dude that we don't even know uh and the guy that I've been pining for this whole time is dead!” We really try to stack the deck so it's like Mabel's perspective and Dipper's perspective are both kind of racing to see who gets in front and there'll be a moment where it's like yeah you kind of buy with Mabel she feels good about about Stan and then this scene is the most you’re ever with Dipper where we discover this huge crazy curveball and this feeling that you have looking at this newspaper and looking through these fake IDs this is how Dipper feels all the time. If you want a window about what it's like to be Dipper, this moment where a giant conspiracy reveals itself out of little pieces and seems to suggest that no one is trustworthy like that's that's where Dipper lives and this to him confirms every bit of suspicion and every bit of paranoia he's ever had and he's willing to run with it.

I love these characters so much that, for me I was like “I need to see Stan saying goodbye to the kids at that bus. And I don't want him to be some guy who isn't Stan, who doesn't even remember the kids.” That would be really dramatic. It might make you cry more but to me it doesn't actually mean anything. Their relationship which they've built, he was willing to sacrifice his memories to save them. That's how much they meant to him but because he was willing to do that, I think he deserves to get him back.

Stan and Ford

But I think Stan's hope is, that in Stan's mind this is going to play out one way which is that; he's going to free his brother, his brother's gonna come out of that portal after 30 years. Stan's probably imagining that Ford is weak, emaciated, wrapped in a blanket, that he'll stumble forward, through a beard. through blurry eyes, he'll be “my brother, is that you?” He'll embrace Stan, he'll hug him, he'll say, “all these years I thought I was goner but you saved me! I was wrong to mock you, I was wrong to call you the stupid twin! Dad was wrong about you! You're the greatest man and let's be friends again and who are these niece and nephew?” Like that was what Stan was kind of hoping. He knows it's there's a million things that could go wrong, including potentially the destruction of this dimension, but he so desperately needs to believe that he can make up for the problems of the past. He's hoping for this but he knows that things are going to change

When I started the series, I always knew Stan had a twin but all I knew about Ford from the jump was that he's everything Stan Isn't. So Stan is a guy with a huge chip on his shoulder, he's kind of a loser at life. There's somebody who is a winner at life or at least was a winner in all these ways that Stan wasn't.

We realized that in order to bring out the maximum amount of frustration in Stan, [Ford] needed to have a bit of a heart. Like here we see him being kind to the kids, he's not he's not all bad which is what's so infuriating to Stan. The idea that he would quickly get along with the kids when he can't get any respect from them. Ford is designed for what would bring out the most amount of conflict in the family. What would be Dipper's hero, what would be Stan's rival and who's somebody that we could empathize with. I mean, it’s hard to empathize with a character that comes out and punches one of your characters in the face, basically before he almost says anything.

You see that at this age, that all the stuff [in their room] that would cross over, that would appeal to both of them. It's not just like “there's science stuff here” and then there's “what Stan would be into.” but no, they both like all this.

There was also a version [of ToTS] where early on, they'd rigged the school water fountain. They did sort of like a caper, it was science and a scam together when they were in elementary school but we decided to save the science for the science fair stuff.

We played around with the idea that you would see them working together doing little science games or pulling little pranks. There was actually a scene that some of it was even storyboarded where they're in a treehouse together and Crampelter and his friends have tracked them down and are begging for their lunch money and Stan and Ford have used their jerkiness and geniusness to rig up like a water balloon throwing machine that knocks Crampelter in the head. I remember him saying, “oh no, my old-timey paper crown!” We were really hanging a lampshade on all these sort of Little Rascal cliches.

Ford's not a villain. You know he's getting in Stan's face and saying “I want my life back” but hopefully by the end of the episode even though you don't root for his perspective, you understand his perspective where it's like Stan ruined his science project, Stan shoved him into the portal, Stan took over his house. He’s not completely unreasonable to want it back and he's not completely unreasonable about his request. He says “okay you've got till the end of the summer” and Stan's little look there tells you everything you need to know about how he feels about the situation.

We needed pressure to be at the point where Stan and Ford recognize their lifelong rivalry and Ford does a sincere apology to Stan and almost more importantly, he acknowledges Stan's intelligence. He says “you wouldn't have fallen for Bill's nonsense.” He recognizes that his brother has a kind of intelligence he doesn't.

I always imagined that as kids, Stan and Ford were like this dynamic duo. They were getting into scrapes and like planning pranks and with Stan's creativity and Ford's genius that they were an unstoppable awesome team, before life turned them against each other. I imagine that as kids they were always swapping glasses and tricking their parents so that they could get double presents. And this is a move they did back in New Jersey constantly. We had to figure out who's gonna make a sacrifice and how and even though it's Stan who agrees to be “I'll be the one erase my mind, it's fine, it's worth it”, it's a sacrifice for both. Ford at this point is willing to get his brother back and he has to lose him again.

Stan and Ford, when they can finally work together, do bring out the best in each other. They just have been missing it for so long.

Post-mind return, Stan and Ford get along and that scene where they both threaten the bus driver gives a hint of what would happen if their powers were combined. We've never seen them working together as adults, they would be a really formidable duo.

Pines Family

[The Blind Eye has] such a great scene between Mabel and Wendy. We don't have a lot of scenes that are just them hanging out and she can kind of be like the cool older sister. Mabel's so obsessed with boys and Wendy's just like "yeah, whatever. They're a dime a dozen."

“in the storyboard, the postcard that Soos is holding up from New Orleans actually said Vegas and at the last minute we got really worried that people were gonna see that and think that that was a clue that Stan was Soos's deadbeat father. And because like our audience, we've trained them to look for clues and to connect dots, they start connecting dots that are not connected. And I called a late retake because, and I see people be like, “wouldn't that be cool if Stan was actually Soos's father” and I hate that headcanon. Whoever's listening and you think “that's a great idea!”-- that's a terrible idea!! Because it means that Stan ran out on his kid and then came back in his life. And weirdly pretends to not be his dad. It flies against the moral of this entire episode which is like, you know this guy who is Soos’ blood relative like cast him out and didn't come back and didn't make time for him and all these people did. These people are Soos’ real family and to say “Stan would be Soos' real father more if he was genetically–”, I'm like “no, no forget that!” Like relationships are about what you do. To me friendship is thicker than water and family is something you can create so I really didn't want anyone to think that we were suggesting that because to me, it actually wasn't just the wrong idea, it was like thematically against what the show's about.” "

"[In NWHS] Every character faces their worst possible choice, which is “Mabel must choose between Dipper and Stan” and “Soos must choose between Stan and the kids,” like “guard that thing with your life. I'm not going to explain to you why.” I believe that Soos would do anything to guard Mr Pines's secrets and these are the only two characters that could possibly make him doubt Stan, these two kids that he loves so much."

"For [DD&MD], you want to set it up as being like [Ford]'s like the coolest toy that's down in the basement that Dipper really wants to play with and he is not allowed to play with him."

"The first three quarters of the series are sort of about Dipper's crush on Wendy and this final quarter is sort of about his crush on the Author. He's such a fan of this guy and he's so used to being denied that which he's a fan of and he's never found anybody who cares about his nerdy stuff. Mabel doesn't care, Stan doesn't care, Soos cares but on a different level. He's so hungry for the approval of somebody like Ford This idea that they would bond over a nerdy board game felt like sort of the way to do this big idea in a sort of grounded way that I like better than like Ford presented Dipper with the Five Trials of the Genius Boy. “I passed these when I was your age! Can you do it too?” and it's like nope he just likes the same dork game that he does."

"The arrival of Ford is creating the two sets of twins starting to pair off between the Brainiacs and the Maniacs"

"Actually I enjoyed that [Ford putting the die in a cheap plastic case] got a little bit of a reckless side because it shows you the Stan part of him. The Stan part of Ford, the little bit that likes a little bit of danger, he likes a little bit of risk. If he would show that side, it would be in when he feels at ease, with a kindred spirit. Around Dipper he’d be like “isn't this pretty cool?” He'd never be that irresponsible around Stan. I like that Dipper is sort of a little bit of a Achilles heel for Ford as well. Ford has certain blind spots and Dipper exacerbates some of those just because he's willing to encourage, he's willing to “yes and” Ford towards whatever dumb idea he might have."

"Dipper, Mabel, Stan and Ford, they're all characters who need each other. Without Dipper, Mabel's just in a fantasy land. Without Mabel, Dipper is just sort of just spiraling into misery, spiraling into his own neurosis and not being pulled into those social situations, not growing as a person."

"You want [Stan] to be true to our various awful grandfathers, so I feel like for the most part you know that [being shitty to women] a plausible thing for Stan to do, that you only forgive because you know he's not a role model. Nobody wants to be like Stan. The kids never look up to him. The only person who looks up to Stan is Soos and Soos is enough of a comedy character that you understand the joke is “oh this guy thinks the worst way to live is good.” And then at one point you realize why. We made it clear why Soos looks up to Stan is because he gave him his job. He gave him a father basically, he’s essentially Soos’ father. And of course Stan who's had a life of just chaos and disappointment, the only person who would be a surrogate son is [Soos] but also Soos has the biggest heart in the world. So only the biggest heart in the world could forgive all of Stan's many flaws and also if Soos can love Stan, then maybe there's something in there worth loving, then maybe we can too."

"Stan, even when he's sweet, he still has to threaten to murder his niece and nephew."

"I do think the value of [Stanchurian Candidate] is that we're learning just how important it is that [Stan]’s seen. At this point, the kids have become a surrogate family. At the beginning of the show, they were just kind of a little nuisance and then he kind of tried out getting the family from them that he never got from his brother and the idea that he would lose them to his brother is his greatest nightmare and the only way he can really express that is by trying to be impressive to them and trying to be his brother's rival."

"Ford offers Dipper this apprenticeship because Ford sees Dipper as somebody who's special like himself. That Ford's great flaw is arrogance. He believes that there's special people and everyone else and that you can be held back by your siblings. That human attachments are actually weaknesses. The song and dance that he's giving Dipper right now is the exact song of dance that he gave McGucket back when they were younger which is like “sure you could continue working on your job and computers but you and me are different. We're better than everyone else, we have a path that no one else can understand. Only us can do this.” And it’s a very seductive idea for Dipper but he starts to be a little insecure here. He’s kind of “I can't believe it” and he's sort of right to be suspicious because Dipper is a smart kid but Ford's projecting. Ford loves Dipper because he sees someone who tell him yes to everything. He'll never challenge him and if Dipper had taken Ford's apprenticeship,Dipper probably would have gone the way of McGucket, turned into a kind of insane paranoid hermit with no friends, just kind of losing his mind. Like it's a seductive offer but also ultimately Dipper needs to learn not to try to grow up too fast."

"This entire time Dipper's been having this journey of self-discovery and seeing his future as this wonderful thing that he can't wait for. Mabel has been, piece by piece, seeing her idea of the summer fall apart."

"As Ford and Dipper's relationship grow stronger, Stan and Mabel also find much more sort of connection. They both feel like the sibling that's getting kind of sidelined."

"I think [amnesiac!Stan] would be hardest on Soos, second hardest on Ford but Soos would show it. Probably third hardest on Mabel, fourth hardest on Dipper just because where their hearts are. Dipper's not heartless, that's a testament to just how heartbroken those other characters are."

Series goal+ The Finale

"So our idea was; the memory gun can erase a concept as designated by the dial. It stores it. It records you and it keeps that recording and that if you watch that recording things start to come back a little bit, that it hasn't actually completely erased it from your mind. It's more sublimated somewhere where it's really really hard to reach and in the series finale, my concept of Bill is that; if he hadn't gotten in all those forms and fought Stan, Stan is the one that destroyed Bill. Were it just the mind eraser itself that he would be sublimated somewhere but he was weakened in the mindscape and destroyed in the mindscape. But Stan's memories were being sublimated and by looking at the scrapbook in the same way that McGucket's memories come back, they start to come back to the surface."

"I think part of what makes [NWHS] work also is that it has the strongest ticking clock. Yeah, I mean. it has a literal ticking clock. Also the sun is going down it's also, the town is starting to drift apart as the characters are starting to drift apart. There's just such a sense of Doomsday and even though we have like a three-part apocalypse, to me nothing feels as apocalyptic as this episode now."

"The entire purpose of [ToTS] is that Stan and his brother have had this huge rivalry that remains to this day and threatens to tear apart Dipper and Mabel and briefly does, and then Dipper and Mabel are able to find their way together, which is meant to repair Stan and his brother's past."

"Here we're teeing up the rest of the conclusion of the series which is just “whoa this is different. The status quo is shifted and is it going to shift us?” and that was the mission of this entire story was shift. Shift things such that it pits Dipper and Mabel against each other so that they can ultimately make things right and fix their uncles’ trauma in the process."

"“Let's try to set things into motion such that all of these characters who we love, who love each other are placed at maximum odds”. So Ford's entire existence in the series is basically a wrench in the relationships between Stan, Dipper and Mabel, that Stan has had a sibling who he didn't get along with and they've grown up having this horrible rift. Dipper and Mabel are these two twins who love each other but are very very different and are at this sort of volatile growing up moment where if something goes wrong could they turn out like Stan and Ford."

"[The convincing Gideon] scene works for me because it sort of represents the full completion of Dipper's Wendy Arc. Even though he's talking about Gideon and Mabel, he's really talking about himself. That idea that you can't force someone to love you but you can strive to be someone worthy of loving. It really does come down to like be the best you, you can be and the right person will see and feel that."

"It was gonna be W1, W2, W3 and then some kind of goodbye story. I remember it being something vaguely about some sort of other time travel. Bringing Blendin back because he just kind of vamoosed in the middle of this big story. There was that discussed like time traveling back to the first day when the kids arrived. The challenge was thinking of a valuable arc. So like each episode needs to have like a new problem and a new resolution and I was trying to brainstorm what's something that could feel valuable for like a final episode after the apocalypse, after Stan's mind has been erased and he's in the process of getting it back. "

"The thing I remember I wrote one out it was it's the last day of summer. Dipper and Mabel are packing uh they're planning to go home, they're feeling like nostalgic, they kind of don't want to leave. Blendin shows up and he explains that there's all these time bubbles left over, these weird anomalies because of all the time business and what Bill has done and just to watch out and be careful. Then Dipper and Mabel actually accidentally trip into one of these bubbles that are sent back to the very first episode or actually beyond the first episode, their first day in Gravity Falls um and somehow this was meant their character arc was to go from being like a little sad that they're going to leave Gravity Falls to seeing what it was like on the first day. When they were scared to be in Gravity Falls. The idea is like their first day they're like “oh Grunkle Stan, he's this weird old man and we hate living in this house and like we missed our place of comfort back home! And this is a kind of scary new adventure that we don't like.” The kids see their own growth and realize like “the way we felt about going to Gravity Falls like we don't think we can handle it, is how we feel about leaving.” That feeling of going into a new experience means that something new and exciting is going to happen you're going to grow. There was some thought that maybe over the course of that episode, Stan would get his memory back and something that the kids had done in the past would help him in the present, get his memory back.

"What's supposed to be happening here isn't that Stan's entire memory reappears in an instant. It's supposed to be a couple days of work and we see the beginning of that process when he looks at the scrapbook and then we're kind of jumping ahead a few days. maybe a week of just intensive memory therapy with Stan before he gets there."

"When we were trying to crack the half hour episode after Weirdmageddon, it felt like we were just kind of wallowing and Stan not having his memories. It was a very depressing thing. And we didn’t get to have Stan for the last episode, which was like “it's a great it's great i think you get the emotion like in this episode. It tears you apart when you see it. You could last a little bit longer on it. But going much longer, then you just feels like well what are we doing? Why are we just kind of wallowing in our own sorrows for no good reason.”

"When we had discussed the idea of an episode beyond this episode, a fourth episode, it was basically 20 minutes of [amnesiac!Stan]. This is so intense, you might think you want it but good lord, this is enough."

"Bill singing “We’ll meet again” was something that just felt like the perfect reference because this is kind of an ending about endings in a lot of ways and we know we know Bill's going to be defeated. We know that people like Vill and have grown attached to him and for him to sing “We’ll meet again” is sort of the perfect mysterious way to say like “I might be going, I might not be going.” It’s a reference to Dr Strangelove, a movie that famously ends with nuclear apocalypse and the song “We’ll meet again” so it's for those pop culture savvy. It's already tinged with a kind of a fear and an irony and the apocalypse built in, so it's perfect on a number of levels."

"The concept of the Zodiac as existing in our current canon is this idea that the prophecy was that friends and enemies would need to come together, seemingly impossible alliances would need to be made to stand up to Bill for this prophetic moment. You know that characters like Gideon who was who used to be an enemy, characters like Pacifica, like Robbie, that we've reached the point where thanks to the kids’ kindness and growth, they are now friends with Pacifica, they've resolved Robbie's jerkiness, they've helped McGucket with his memory. They've even overcome this issue with Gideon in W1 and so it seems like friends and enemies have all been restored, leaving only one thing which is Stan and Ford have to shake hands. And their pride once again is what dooms the entire world but they get so close."

"It's clear Stan, even though he's being stubborn here and holds things up, he's ready to do it. He clasps Ford's hand and then Ford can't help but correct his ignorant brother with something that doesn't matter at all after professing how important all this is and how important it is to put pettiness aside, he's the one who ends up being petty in the end."

"I like that Stan [during the deal] is just thinking “all right, think white, think white, think white.” He's like “think about nothing but sitting on your lazy boy.” "

"Stan and Bill had never interacted in the series up until this moment because he had just been taken over when he was asleep. We'd seen a lot of Ford and Bill, but Stan and Bill has never happened. And Bill sort of represents all the mystery and weirdness, and Stan is the guy who just wants to have a good life and protect his family. He's the one who never invited Bill in but he's willing to take Bill out."

"If Mabel's going home with a pig, Dipper's going home with this symbol of his friendship with Wendy. And even Stan he's wearing that Mabel sweater. That's a visual symbol of; he's softened up, he's embraced family, he doesn't need to be the tough guy all the time."

#gravity falls #stanley pines #stan pines #stanford pines #ford pines #mabel pines #dipper pines #soos ramirez #fiddleford mcgucket #i haven't even gone through all the eps for this lmao i decided this was way too much #anyway gravity falls is a story of found family and moving on from abuse and hurt #it's about growing up but keeping that childish wonder with you #and also how romance is overrated lol #like seriously so much of the family is chasing after crushes and that form of love #but in the end all they need is each other and learning to love themselves #stan hating himself while actually loving being who he is hurts me real bad tho...

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