#and it didn't stop him from being a monster | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vellichor-of-the-solivagant · 1 day ago

Text

Like Birds on a Broken Branch | 4

Monster! Task Force 141 X F!Reader

Previous Chapter / Masterlist

Context Warning: NSFW! Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Mentions of Dub-con/ Non-con, Oral Sex, Voyuerism , Author's Poor Attempt in Dark Fic, Mentions of Slavery, Ghost and his poor attempt of rizz

“You smell of Price,” Mactavish said as he sniffed on your skin.

You were on their Green House, at the west side of their Fortress. Inside was a lush garden of plants, from trees to flowers. From the harmless to the ones who could swallow an animal. And on one corner of the secluded place, they had a hammock large and sturdy enough to accommodate three people.

John shifted to his side and placed his toned arm over your stomach, making the hammock sway due to his movements. “Did he fuck you?” he asked, breathing against your neck.

You closed your eyes, already feeling exhausted when it was still afternoon. “No.”

“Good, it was deal with us, after all,” Ghost spoke from your other side, making you flatter your eyes open and turn your head to face him.

“All of this was a deal?” You questioned and clenched your dress.

“No, not all of it. Just the fucking part,” Simon responded with a huff.

The explicitness of his words made you wince.

“The deal was to fuck you at the same time when you're ready.”

You jolted up, throwing Soap’s arm off you, and you stared down at him in disbelief, eyes wide and jaws slacked. One or two of them at the same time was already tiring enough, but four at the same time?! Utter madness!

“That's why I said to be thankful there's only four of us,” Mactavish reminded you, taking your hand and intertwining it with his.

“Why . . . Why wouldn't you all just get a woman for each one of you?” You asked, directed to both of them, but the wraith remained silent, so the incubus answered on their behalf.

“That's a lot of money, Bonnie.”

You glared at him and pulled back your hand from his hold. “You're a fucking noble. You've got money.”

“Why waste it when we all like the same woman?”

You gazed at him and felt a lump in your throat. Did these fucking monsters even know the concept of love? Honestly speaking, were you any different from them when you didn't even know what it meant to love?

“Oh, there you are,” a silvery voice came from behind the lush plants and Kyle, along with Price. The three of you sat up as the other two marched up to you.

“We've got an invitation from Alex to his ball,” Price announced, which got your eyes settling on him as he fished out five envelopes from his pocket and handed it to each one of you, leaving one for himself.

You eyed the design on the paper before bringing it up to your nose, sniffing the calming scent that you would usually get on books.

“A ball, for what?” Mactavish questioned, tossing the letter down his lap.

“Seasonal ball as well as a . . . party for us nobles and their newly bought females,” the King said, crossing his bulging arms.

You stared at the envelope in your grasp.

“Oh, so a showdown in disguise.” Mactavish laid back down on the hammock and took your waist to pull you in his arm, but you sat firm. His eyes narrowed at your back.

“Not just that,” Simon claimed, “but also a massive sex party.”

You felt like hurling at the thought of seeing other women being assaulted by monsters in public and the imagination of yourself being one of them, made your stomach turn and shoot up your lunch to your throat.

Your hand clasped over your mouth and closed your eyes to stop the sickness from getting over you. A cold, thin sheet of sweat coated your skin, and their words of . . . what? Worry? Joy? You couldn't tell. All their voices jumbled in your ears along with the ringing beats of your heart.

Your back arched as a warm hand slid up your thighs, a hum echoing softly in your ears, and a warm breath fanned your neck. You tried to open your eyes but merely managed to get a glance before a hand landed on them, keeping you blind.

But you knew that hum, even if you hadn’t been in the fortress for long.

Jonathan Price parted your legs open and placed himself in between, teeth gently grazing the sensitive skin, before biting down. You whimpered in pain and a soft laugh rubbled from his throat, licking over the spot he bit as his hand traveled beneath your shirt, finding itself a breast to play with, his calloused fingers massaging the bud.

A moan escaped past your lips, trembling as his tongue made its way from your stomach to the band of your undergarment. But he did not bother to remove it and started to plant open-mouthed kisses until he found your folds, chuckling at the wet spot on the thin fabric. You found your hand grasping the sheets of the bed, the other on the demon's hair, as he sucked on your clit, till his tongue made its way to your opening, pushing in and pulling out, and getting drunk on your fluids through the fabric.

You voiced out a beg for him to stop, but your words drowned in the middle of your moans, the lewd noises echoing in the room, and his groans, to the point your senses had become mushed. Then, he removed his hand from your eyes, and you blinked away the blur, frowning as you took in your surroundings.

You were in a room different from your chamber. Price had himself propped between your legs. Simon and Kyle sat on either side of you and you glanced behind you and saw John. Your pulse raced as you noticed his eyes glowing gold, a warning. You flinched as the incubus hooked his finger into your underwear and pulled it to the side.

“Watch him,” Mactavish took hold of your jaw, pressing kisses on your temple as he turned your gaze to Price. “See how he’s eating you good?” But before you could utter a word, he shifted your attention to the other two. “See how they’re turned on at the sight of you?”

You lowered your eyes to see Simon reach under the waistband of his pants just as Kyle proceeded to pull down his pants, tugging his cock out free.

Mactavish continued to touch you, fondling your breasts, and lowered his voice, commanding you to watch the other two pleasure themselves. You did, as though you were a puppet in his hands, and thrust your hips up to Price’s mouth.

Fuck.

It felt good.

And it felt too good to be true.

You jolted awake, shooting up in bed and clutching at your dress as an orgasm ripped through you. You breathed heavily, sweat dripping down on your skin, and you grimaced at the wetness and aching pulse between your thighs.

Fucking incubus. This was his doing!

You threw your legs off the bed and stood up on your feet, but staggered forward. You uttered a curse as you caught yourself and dragged yourself towards the door. You grabbed the knob, resting your forehead on the door, before gulping, your throat itchy from the dryness. You turned the knob and pulled the door open, your breath hitching when a hand clamped over your mouth.

“Quiet.”

A deep voice echoed in your ears and you blinked at Simon, who pushed you back in your room as he entered. You shook off his hand and stepped away from him.

“Why are you up this late?” he questioned, his voice sounding a bit stifled through the mask he wore. Instead of the usual black fabric, this time, he got a balaclava with half a skull stitched on. To boot, he had a hood over his head, a part of his cloak that kept his massive body hidden.

“Night . . . mare?” you said, eyes going up and down on his get-up.

“Nightmare?” he echoed and nodded. “Oh, I guess it’s a nightmare for you.”

Your eyes narrowed at him. “That incubus used his magic on me, didn’t he? And you know it.”

“Yes.”

You glowered at him. “So, you’re here to finish what he started, is that it?”

He extended a hand to the side, invitingly. “Want me to?”

Your face flushed and you turned away. “I don't — I'm not—”

“So worked up, aren't we?” He crossed his arms. “Like I said, I'm not forcing myself to ya.”

“Really?” You scoffed. “Then, why are you with them? Why did you also buy me?”

He tilted his head to the side and stepped closer to you. You stepped back, and he took one forward. The process repeated until you were back into the wall, with one of his hands slamming next to your head.

“You can be this dumb.” He leaned down to your level, closing the gap between you. “I know you're not. So, why’d you keep on asking stupid questions?”

“Because this whole system is stupid!” You exclaimed, dabbing a finger on his chest. “If you differ yourself from them, you're fucking fooling yourself because you are not any better than them.” You turned away, but he wrapped his hand around your neck, slamming you back to the wall.

“There's a fucking tiny thread holding my self-control right now, and it's about to snap,” he said, almost growling.

You raised your brows and pulled a mocking smile on your face. “Is that the only thing that differs you from them?”

“Right now, yes.”

“Because the only thing going into your brains is breeding women.”

“And I'm about to show you how we do it.”

Simon began dragging you and threw you to the bed. You bounced onto the mattress and he did not waste a second straddling over you.

“Fucking dog—”

“Quiet.” He clamped his gloved hand over your mouth, once again stifling your curses.

Monsters liked it—loved it when their females were submissive as fuck, dependent on them like fucking babies who had no chance of survival. Monsters hated it when their pet would bite their hands.

Simon flicked his finger, and shadows bound your wrists above your head.

Simon liked neither. So he could say he was different than most, even his brothers-in-arms acknowledged it. But you, the female, refused to accept it.

You were strange. He didn't know how to deal with you. Not that he had dealt with any women before. And you being his first wasn't fucking helping.

He could understand the submissive part, sure. Pretty little thing barking at him only to whimper under his touch a moment later.

But had those men, those other monsters never thought of the delight in the sight of women in equal understanding as them?

Simon removed his hand from your undergarment and pulled down the hem of your dress. With a flick of his finger, your wrists came unbound and the moment he pulled his hand from your face, you jumped away from him, going further up on the bed.

He sighed and pulled his balaclava down back in place. “Sleep. I will be here to keep Johnny’s magic from you.”

“What . . .” You trailed off, confusion veiling over your mind. “What?”

“I said—”

“I heard it,” you snapped back. “But, uh, why'd you . . . why did you stop?”

“You want me to continue?” He tilted his head and something ached between your thighs. You shook your head and he scoffed. “Then, go back to sleep before I change my mind.”

You hesitantly flopped back down on the bed and stared at the canopy. How the fuck were you going to sleep with what just happened?

“Close your eyes,” he demanded. “It'll help.”

You turned your head on his way. “You read minds?”

“No.”

Silence blanketed the room.

You tapped your fingers on the sheets. “When is that party happening?”

“ In three weeks.” He placed a hand on the bed. “Mind if I lay down with you?”

You remained still for a moment, before slowly shaking your head. You watched him sit down on the bed and reach down to his boots, untying them and shaking them off. Then, he proceeded to remove his cloak, letting it fall on the floor, revealing his muscular stature clad in a tight-fitting shirt. For a wraith, he was big—even bigger than the king of dragons himself by a few centimeters.

Now, would that mean Simon’s dick would be bigger than Jonathan? Even if you could heal fast, wouldn’t it still hurt a lot when they both fuck you at the same time?

Simon laid down next to you with a loud sigh, not bothering to remove his balaclava.

“Is there . . .” You paused and cleared your throat. “Can you tell me more about the party?”

His eyes settled on the canopy and after a moment of silence, he spoke. “It’s also the time some kind of . . . politics happen between nobles.”

You nodded quietly and once again he fell silent. Then, your eyes wandered the room. “How many women have you brought here?”

In an instant, he claimed, “None.”

You frowned and repeated, “None? Liar.”

“First, you call me a dog, now you call me a liar?”

“Matters of facts—”

“Matters of your own opinions,” he remarked, forcing you to shut your mouth, and he continued. “You're the first woman we bought.”

You raised a brow at him. “Then, you're as inexperienced as I am?”

He shifted on the bed, now turning his body at you. “We wouldn't be if we do it right now.”

Next Chapter / Archive of Our Own

Comment if you want to be on the tag list

Taglist: @cringeycookies, @sunndust, @noonespecial475, @spooky-skeletonie, @casualunknownrunaway, @lialucis, @tanaari, @mc-cos-charm, @demonic-bird, @thriving-n-jiving, @teenagellamaangel, @nightriver99

75 notes · View notes

hamsternella · 2 days ago

Text

Second part of this one

Bill Cipher x Fem!Reader

cw: gore, bill is a warning by himself, mdni, yandere and obsessive behavior

''She's my wife! You're talking about my wife, Cipher!'' Ford ran his hands through his hair, feeling desperate. Disgust was driving him mad; fury was blinding him. ''You've crossed a boundary! You're a…''

''A monster, a madman, a sick man,'' Bill interrupted him lazily. ''Yeah, yeah. I get that a lot, thanks, Fordsy. Anyway, what do you say? Do we have a deal?''

Ford backed up a couple of steps, colliding with the edge of his desk behind him. His hand brushed against a statuette of Cipher himself; a figure of pure gold that weighed between his fingers as he lifted it into the air, eyes fixed on the demon. The latter shook his hand in denial. 'No, no. Don't even think about it.' But he did it anyway. He didn't even get to hit him—Bill had disappeared.

"Come back here, Bill!" cried the investigator in despair. "Don't you dare lay a hand on my wife again, Cipher!"

But all he received in response was a shrill laugh, and the blow of a warm breeze that made him stagger. The lights went out, and in the gloom the only thing that enveloped Ford was silence barely interrupted by his own breathing.

"My God," he whispered, "what have I done?"

After your talk with Bill, and the forced kiss that sealed an implied deal, your life becomes confusing and uncomfortable.

The demon had not stopped possessing your husband until the day you decided that enough was enough.

The limit was to have found him on you, forcing your petticoats with the hands of the man who was supposed to be your companion.

How were you supposed to know when it was Ford and not Bill? How could you let him kiss your lips with that sweetness, sometimes interspersed with the awkwardness of a need that already seemed alien to you?

When Ford found out about the situation you were acting so strange about, his fury is such that even you find yourself terrified of the human as you were of the demon.

They felt like one and the same entity. At this point you didn't know what to think about it.

Your relationship with your husband deteriorated considerably. It was easy to see how uncomfortable it made him to know that you and Bill had been intimate.

"Aren't we ever going to talk about it, then? Ford, I'm addressing the word to you..."

"I know," he interrupted you, the frustration palpable in his voice. "You've been saying the same thing every day, throughout every week; it's a regular thing come this point."

"Because we need to talk about it! For God's sake, Ford, you can't even stand to be in the same room with me anymore. Do you think this situation hasn't affected me too?"

You heard his footsteps coming towards where you were. You felt him in front of you, with his scent and his breathing altered into a choked growl. "Be honest with me, didn't you suspect at any time that that imitation wasn't me?"

"Ford, not again with this..." you sighed.

"Not again, you say? Not again, as if it were something upsetting to you," he exclaimed. "Oh, well, perhaps it is—perhaps because things happened there that I don't know about. More things I don't know—I don't want to know. Terrible things, lots of secrets hidden from me, your husband!"

"Are you serious, Stanford? You're coming at me with such audacity!" You had risen from your seat, colliding immediately with your husband's chest. His hands took you by surprise; a shove brought you back to the world as you hit the table at your side. "Ford! What's wrong with you, God..."

"This is all wrong! This is all terrible!" he shouted. Moments later there was silence. It took your husband some time to regulate his own breathing. "Whole weeks... being possessed by a creature I thought was my friend, my companion. Days believing I was falling into madness; the darkness of a confused dream enveloping me, devouring my senses... all of me. All of me! My works, my researches, my wife! He dared to possess my woman!"

"So that's what I am to you," you hastened to add. "Just your woman. That's what this irrational outburst of yours is all about, Stanford."

"It's everything! This is about everything! For God's sake, woman, understand. He's taken everything from me—he's trying to make it, and he's closing in on me by leaps and bounds... He's wanted to ruin my life completely and you don't understand! You can't be so selfish!"

"Who's being selfish here, when you were the scoundrel hiding a demon under our feet! This was all started by you, Stanford! And you never told me the truth!" You covered your face for a moment, sighing faintly. "You let him take your body and walk around the house; you kept me ignorant of your true plans while to him you built a shrine."

"How did you..."

"He told me," you interrupted him coldly, "as usual. Because of course I have to find out what's going on in my own house from a demon. Same demon who, by the way, got into our room to try to molest me!"

"You could have told me that in the first place! Things don't magically escalate."

"Excuse me? What are you trying to tell me?"

His silence confirmed the shame that had overwhelmed him by his own words.

"I'm talking to you, Ford."

"You should have told me. You allowed him direct entry."

"I don't think I gave him that much power," you shook your head. "Not like you gave it to him, Ford, with your portals and your 'insignificant' studies."

"I didn't mean to."

"And you think it was my intention to have him on top of me?"

"For God's sake—this is not about you!"

"It's never about me! Nothing is ever about me, your very wife, Ford!" You held back the heart-rending cry in your throat, until the other words snatched it from you. "I could have been raped that night and you didn't care! That thing has kissed me, touched me while in your body, and what affects you most is losing your portal! Please, Stanford, please, I beg you to understand!"

You stretched out your arms in a desperate attempt to cling to your husband's shirt. You knew where he was when you brushed against his body; there your hands rested, fingers digging like daggers into his arms. Your voice was barely a whisper corrupted by pain and despair.

"I gave up everything for you," you continued, "even my hobbies, my friends and my family. I believed in you like no one ever has; I sacrificed time, sweat and tears on your journey to glory... All for you. Always for you. When will there be something for me? When will I have a family of my own? When will I have a nice home? When will I feel safe?" you weighed a couple of raw ideas at the back of your mind. "When will I feel safe with you, Ford. You're supposed to be my husband..." you sobbed.

"I need you to understand," he whispered back. "Please, honey. I need you to."

"I'm tired of understanding things I don't know," you shook your head, possessed by crying. "You let that thing into this house. You gave your body, your mind... your wife."

"I would never allow him to lay a hand on you!"

"He's done it already!" you shouted back. "He's already done as much damage as you have, Ford! You're just like that! Unsatisfied, cruel creatures; eager to carry more than your arms can carry. He may be able to make it. Not you, Ford. And that's your problem—yourself. You're selfish, self-centered..."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"... and I begin to believe that I have been a victim of that victorious perversity that consumes you when you get something that others want and can't. But you could! And now you want more! More of what you shouldn't, of that which you can't have."

"I can have it! I'm capable! You know it; you've heard me achieve it."

"Thanks to him. And everything has a price in life, Stanford. Who says I'm not that now?"

The laughter that your husband dismissed hurt your soul.

"It's not that simple. He couldn't want you for... I don't understand. Why would he want you for something like this? I don't get it. Why would he want you in exchange for something like this? What do you figure here, but a sack of meat like me?"

"I don't know, you tell me," you shrugged. "Why do you want me, Ford? What do you think I possess, beyond a hole for you to fuck when you're stressed? Do you consider me to have value? Maybe you think I'm a stupid bitch—"

"Don't talk about yourself like that!" he interrupted you, sounding hurt. "One thing has nothing to do with the other here, right now."

"I think it has a lot to do with when your pride outweighs your wife's honor and safety. Does that title do any good? Perhaps the term 'maid' paints a better picture, considering how much you hold me in high regard as a person."

"Stop it."

"And that's all you have to say."

Life feels empty when your marriage suddenly seems like a sham.

You no longer consider Ford a company that provides you with security; now you are truly on your own.

The world is scary.

And this is where he comes to save the day.

More or less, let's assume.

Bill takes this opportunity to start filling your head with hallucinations. You can't escape them.

Your husband is a nightmare that whispers lies in your ear, which later become truths the more you think about them.

Cipher doesn't show up in your dreams until months later, when your husband is at his worst peak of stress and paranoid episodes.

The demon is much more kind, caring and receptive to you than ever before; even manipulating your brain to reproduce his figure in your mind.

At last you meet Mr. Cipher.

"But look who it is! The protagonist of this beautiful story of bloody, forbidden visceral romance from...! Oh, forget it. The title is too long."

The triangle levitates around you with its golden glow. Its edges are sharp; it has only one eye, and it wears a galley and a staff that seems to have a life of its own, far away from you, circling in the air. It is black, just like the galley and the slender limbs of the beast.

The laughter is as loud as ever. For a moment it brings you peace. It's the same—nothing has changed nor is a lie. It's just Bill.

"That's me! Yes, ma'am." Its figure reappears in front of you, with one of its small hands resting on your cheek. "My pronouns are call/me/Bill; but I also go by he/him."

"Are you reading my mind?"

"Oh, you little bag of muscle and nerves! We're in your mind," he laughed. "By the way, you should be nicer to me."

"I don't have to be nice to you," you replied. "You've ruined my life."

"Ruin your life, you say! Oh, no, my dear, but I haven't done anything!" His hand moved away from you, returning to his back as he entwined it with the other. His eye narrowed for a moment; he was fascinated. "But didn't you mean, rather, your husband's life? Isn't it the same as yours?"

"Is that, you suppose, a comment to hurt me?"

"Hurting you is one of my last thoughts when I think of you," he said. "And believe me: I think about you a lot."

"I don't want to know what kind of things."

"And you do very well not to want to!"

Another shrill laugh pierced your ears like a needle. The sound settled painfully in your brain.

"Oh, my dear! So beautiful and so pitifully silly," he sighed. "How I've missed you."

"I find it rather disturbing the way you address me. Especially after the accident..."

"That night!" he interrupted you; so fascinated that his yellow color darkened into a kind of still luminous blush. "Perhaps I was a little thrilled by the tenderness of your flesh—how your heart throbbed! An organ pumping warm blood, under that weak skin."

The triangle was suddenly in front of you. His eye wide open.

"The way your muscles tensed in your face," he continued, "with each eye wide open, as if you could just see me. No need to when you can feel me, little one. And how did that feel? How did you feel under the rough warmth of hands on the smooth skin of your belly?"

"While you were using my husband!" you cried out in shame. "You forced yourself on me with my husband's body. You are a..."

You bit your lip, holding back the string of insults that were about to hang from your mouth. Bill narrowed his eye, humming an unfamiliar tune.

"I'm a... what? Say it, come on!"

"Just shut up," you growled. "Shut your mouth—whatever you use to talk. Shut it."

"A little bird told me something very interesting. I'm sure you want to know! I know you do!"

You covered your face, using your hands to stifle a frustrated scream that could barely overshadow Bill's animated narration. His voice was penetrating your head, which was funny to think about considering the two of you were in your mind; there was no way his voice wasn't getting through to you being in a place like this. There was no escape possible.

"Oh! Yes, that's right," he pointed out with his cane. "You can't wake up until I decide."

"That's crazy!"

"I guess... Whatever! You want to play a game of chess for which you might lose something very valuable to you when I cheat?"

"Of course not!" You rubbed both hands together, trying to stop the trembling all over your body. "Ford will notice I'm not in the kitchen; I always make breakfast. He'll notice, won't he?"

"Dear, are you asking me or are you losing your senses?"

"Isn't it the same?" you turned to look at him, narrowing your eyes. "Wondering something to you, losing my mind—isn't it the same thing?"

Bill rolled his eye, dropping his cane in the air again. "What a mood! Too many gentlemen on this world for so few ladies—"

"What do you want?" you interrupted him. There was no answer. You took a deep breath as you met his gaze upon you; too much intensity, with his figure levitating slower and slower. "Bill, please, is there something you want? Because I can't give it to you. You should talk it over with Ford, like always" you muttered.

"Something I want," he repeated. "Maybe I wasn't very clear with you. In the olden days new romantic prospects used to murder the current spouse. You want that? So freaky, grr—"

"What the fuck are you talking about! My God," you swallowed the string of insults hanging from your throat. "Cipher, let me go right now. Go and talk to my husband and do together whatever it is you have in mind. Leave me alone!"

"I tried to talk to Fordsy about you," rushed the demon defensively, "but I don't think he liked certain details... My bad, I admit it! There are always second chances—although with him we'd be going for number three hundred and twenty something, I think... I don't know, I don't care! Hey, you really don't want to play chess with me?"

"You told him about that night," you whispered. Tears began to tickle your cheeks without your noticing them. "You told him first and he never... Ford never told me—he never told me about it..."

"And then he made you feel terrible about it," he laughed. "How crazy is Fordsy. And what's with all that pushing and shoving this last week? Didn't you see it coming? Ha! Get it? Because you're totally blind—"

"I can't wail and cry if I hear your shitty voice."

"Oh, come on! It's not my fault your husband is a deranged madman. There are lots of fish in the ocean, did you know that? Lots and lots... Lots, really... Then there's me, who's better," he pointed to himself, shrinking his eye in a smile. "I mean, uh, a god, technically."

"A demon."

"Very soon a god," he corrected you.

You frowned, forcing a smile as you said, "But you're still a demon. One trapped far away from our world, aren't you? What assures you that you're going to be anything more than that, when Stanford no longer believes in you?"

"The last thing I care about is your husband," Bill narrowed his eye. "Beyond that, could it be that you're testing me?"

"Testing you?"

"If I can get out of here, if I can catch you anywhere, anytime," he continued, "does that mean I win?"

"For you everything is a game. A demon at the end of the day."

Bill's shrill laughter pierced your ears again. This time you found him in front of you in the blink of an eye; closer, more attentive.

"Does that mean I win?" he whispered. "Because I believe I can have you whenever I want, wherever I want—this is just a taste of my power."

"This is a sign of what a monster you are," you replied in kind. "Ford will not allow you to go beyond your dimension—"

"Fordsy couldn't stop me all those times I messed with you," the demon interrupted you, suddenly surly at the mention of your husband. "It's almost like he doesn't care. Anyway, that brainiac is going to fail sooner or later, and there's no corner of the universe where you can hide your head. I'll be there, in your dreams; and I'll be here, where you don't see me. Everywhere I'm going to be, dear little flesh bag."

"Don't fucking call me that!"

"Nuh-uh!"

You opened your mouth, ready to pour over his expectant eye a couple more insults, but the lack of your own voice led you to wrap both hands around your neck. You thought you were piercing flesh with your fingernails; you caressed muscle, you smeared yourself with blood. You wanted to scream, terrified, alone in the middle of an empty, dark space, but the only response to the nervous silence of your panic attack was another thunderous laugh.

Everything was suddenly red. Red and painful. A sharp stab of pain shot through your body from your throat, and with a shocking jolt you fell to your knees, drowning in your own blood. Warm, viscous, thick. You closed your eyes, too disgusted with the spectacle of intense sensations assaulting your senses, and let yourself be carried away by the spasms that seemed to go on forever. You barely felt him on you.

When you opened your eyes, overcome by another intense, hot sensation, you found Bill leaning over you. His yellow color had migrated to a deep black; red edges like your blood, glowing, and with the same wide-open, watchful eye. You noted with another kind of horror that same morbid charm in his gaze—the ravenous hunger of a natural hunter.

You shook your head, barely moving your lips in a faint 'please'.

"I missed this," he said. "I missed you. It's strange... this feeling, I mean—it's kind of weird. It's unpleasant. But when I finally have you again, when I can touch you, I can see you, I can hear you, that awful feeling goes away; it disappears and I feel good again. I feel better. It's strange, like I told you."

One of his limbs brushed against the bleeding wound on your neck. The nightmare was compounded by the pressure of his fingers playing with your flesh.

"You're beautiful," he whispered. "If you could see yourself. I don't think you'd understand. It would be fun, anyway. See you cry, make you scream," he laughed. "You know, the usual. Stanford makes you cry a lot, doesn't he? He hurts you."

It took you a while to respond, but you were able to give him a nod.

"Everything he does is a product of my own genius," Bill continued. "I'm better. A hell of a lot better. This is just beginning; there's more to this than I've shown you now. A lot more. But that's all right! We have all the time in the world. Lots of nights, lots of dreams. Opportunities, my pretty little bag of nerves."

His limb moved away from your wound, wrenching another spasm from your body. You couldn't take your eyes off the way the demon was spewing a long, slimy tongue from the strip below his eye, starting from the socket. Another repulsive limb. The flesh of your body disappeared in what was a light taste of your own flavor. You noticed the fascination in his small figure; the tremor of ecstasy bursting the moment.

"Fordsy would be delighted to know this," Bill said, squinting his eye. "You think we should tell him?"

'We?' Your own mind gave you away.

"I'm asking for your opinion! That's what couples do, right?"

Silence. Bill let out a sigh; his yellow color back with a particular glow.

"Whatever," he shrugged, "I don't think he'll mind. This may be our little secret." He approached you, levitating gently. "As for you, beautiful little waste, I hope to see you in a better mood soon. There's so much to do! So many things to talk about. Our plans ahead, of course—the big moment. What a thrill!"

Your eyes began to close. The pain gradually, gently subsided. It was getting harder and harder to hear Bill chattering.

"... portal, and the... But maybe a crazy... you and me, of..."

Before you faced the impending total darkness, Bill's intense gaze invaded your mind. This time you stopped listening to him. In spite of that, a new sharp pang of pain pierced your head; it upset you completely, as one who feels disarmed at the discomfort of their own body, and made you wake up again. This time there was no yellow demon in front of you. There was nothing, directly. Not that nothing of one whose eyes are covered—but that kind of empty expectation, typical of the blind.

'Returned home,' you thought with a sigh.

The morning was quiet, but not calm. Bill's nightmare had left you jittery, with tremors and a nagging itch in your neck. A sick kind of paranoia kept you standing between the bedroom and the bathroom, unable to go any further. It was the murmur of timid footsteps downstairs that made you make the decision: tell Ford, give him the chance again. Who else did you have in the world but him?

You walked down the stairs with the itch in your neck increasing as your husband's silence to your calls did. At a certain point, and with madness tearing tears from your eyes, you ended up tripping over an obstacle on the floor where you thought the living room was. You rested your hands as soon as you felt the blow of the air like a whip; the pain came seconds later, along with the roughness of a jacket.

Ford did not wear such jackets.

You pushed your fingers against the leather, dragging your nails along the inner fur. You felt the coolness of some pins, and maybe found a couple of holes.

"Ford?"

"He's not here."

A man's broken voice took you by surprise. You jumped up, fell back down, and began to crawl backwards across the floor. You forgot about the pain and itching in your neck.

"Who are you?! What did you do to my husband—"

"Just... just a moment! Please!" The voice broke even more, as if choked with an inevitable cry. "You said husband—you must be her, I mean, his girl. His wife. Logically, isn't it?" an unfunny laugh broke through his words. "Please, I'm not here to do anything bad..."

"Who the fuck are you?!"

Silence. A long one, interrupted by a couple of accelerated breaths.

"Stanley," the man replied. "I'm Stanley Pines. I'm Stanford's brother."

"He doesn't... No, because he doesn't have a brother. You are lying to me—"

"Are you blind?"

This time the silence came from you.

"I didn't think... Sorry, I didn't get a good look at you," he rushed back. "I'm sorry, ma'am."

"Stanley Pines," you said, "is that really your name? Stanford never told me about you." You craned your neck, gathering as much air as you could. "Stanf—"

"He's not here."

"What do you mean? Did he go out or something? Again," you sighed.

Silences were commonplace at this point. You had time to stand up with the help of the supposed Stanley. You let him guide you to an armchair, allowing him as much freedom as a tired woman could allow a man this robust. You tried not to let fear blind your senses.

If he was inside the house, it meant he hadn't set off any traps. Was he telling the truth?

"Did Ford tell you where he went?" you insisted in the absence of an answer. "Do you know when he'll be back?"

"I don't think he..." a heavy, shaky sigh. "Sorry, but I think Stanford—I don't think he can come, today, at least..."

"What do you mean?"

But you didn't need a clear answer. Stanley was still talking, saying things very unimportant to you; and yet there was something special that leapt into your mind along with the memory of a thunderous laugh. The word 'portal' throbbed in rhythm with your heart, leaving in its wake a trail of horror from which a couple of tears were born. Only then did you return to the world—along with Stanley's hand caressing your back.

"I'm really sorry," he continued in a soft cry. "I didn't mean to, I swear..."

"Through the portal?"

"It was too fast, and... and then we pushed each other a lot, and there was screaming—"

"Then I guess he's not coming back," you sighed shakily, interrupting him. "Ford's not coming back. My God..."

"I'm going to fix that thing. You have my word."

The image of Bill in your dreams quickly jumped into your memories. You reached desperately for Stan's hands, taking them in yours. You stared into the void, hoping to behold his face of -possible- intrigue.

"You can't touch that thing!" you exclaimed in warning. "Stanley, you can't go near that portal, please. You have no idea what's in store for us on the other side."

"My brother is trapped in there! God, woman, your own husband!"

"This is beyond him right now!"

His hands released yours; a push let you know that he had risen from your side.

"You're crazy," he growled. "As crazy as he is. Just a crazy couple!"

"You have no idea what this is, Stanley Pines... You have no idea. You haven't the faintest idea. Am I crazy? Do you think I've lost my mind? I think you saw Ford very well; I'd like to think there's something of him in you—that you understand why I'm this way. Whose fault is it!"

"Your husband could be dead and you just go around attributing blame!"

"Our lives are at stake! Good Lord, Stanley, you have no idea what it was like to live with him!"

The image of Bill wouldn't leave your head. At this point you didn't know if you were thinking of Ford, or the triangular demon.

"I'm going to fix that fucking machine," Stanley spat angrily, "and I'm not going to let some crazy woman stop me over a couple of superstitions. I've had enough of that with Stanford. I want my brother back, and I'm going to get him. Whatever it takes."

You heard his footsteps walk away from the room, and seconds later a slamming door vibrated through your bare feet. Until then you hadn't felt the cold seeping into your sensitive flesh. Nothing seemed to matter enough to you.

It wasn't about Ford anymore; now you had to deal with the nervous insanity of his so-called brother. Could it get even worse?

Maybe.

#fanfic #reader insert #reader #obssesion #yandere #angst #horror #dead dove do not eat #gravity falls #bill cipher gravity falls #gravity falls bill #bill cipher #bill cipher x reader #bill cypher

57 notes · View notes

nast--ana · 2 days ago

Text

PART 8

"THE EASTER BUNNY"

"When you woke up the next morning, you immediately realized that those words of Ragata about sleep turned out to be true, because you really felt a little better. Getting out of bed, you stretched, and after making it up, you left your room.

Wandering through the corridors, you soon came out into the very hall where you were not lucky enough to meet that monster, but now there was no one there except a bunny sitting on the stage and mumbling something to himself.

It was quite difficult to make out his words from afar, but after listening, you realized the following:

- If I had a hammer, I would have knocked out all the fu@#!ng teeth of this fu@#!ng artificial intelligence! ...

Realizing that the bunny is clearly not in the mood right now, you have lost all desire to talk to him. You never know what you can expect from him...

You started to quietly descend the stairs, but at the very bottom, the old steps began to creak violently under your feet. The bunny pricked up his ears, looked around and, noticing you, smiled broadly, exposing his sharp teeth.

- Hey, new girl! Come here...- he grinned, beckoning you to him with his finger.

There was something sinister and clearly unfriendly in his voice that made you step back in fright. However, the bunny immediately repeated his request, making it clear that you definitely have no other choice. Treading carefully, you approached the stage where he was sitting.

- Well, hello, new girl, my name is Jax. And I take it you want to escape, don't you?) - he looked at you with the same smile.

For a while, you just shifted from one foot to the other, not knowing what to say, but eventually you gathered your courage and stammered, answered:

- N-Nice to meet you...Yes, I-l want to escape from here, I don't like this place...

In response, the bunny laughed so loudly that it seemed his laughter could be heard throughout the tent.

- I can't, just look at her—another stupid and naive soul trying to get out of the digital hell! I've seen it before somewhere...Oh yes, that's right! There was already one such sucker here before you...And imagine—she almost did it! But what about her now? And I will answer you: She became a toy for our favorite entertainer, here!- when you heard that, you immediately realized that we were talking about Ragata. Noticing how your face was distorted with sadness, the banny's eyes became even more insane and he laughed again.

- And you?! Didn't you try to get out?! Do you really like being stuck in this creepy place?!-You asked him unexpectedly loudly for yourself, not wanting to listen to this laughter anymore. At these words, the rabbit immediately stopped laughing and looked at you thoughtfully.

-...Okay-okay, you got it. At first, I also tried to get out of here, even developed a plan. However, I soon realized that in this place you can do whatever your heart desires! And you won't have anything for it!)

- That is... Don't you want to run away?-You asked him, cocking your head to the side with interest. The rabbit sighed heavily.

- Listen, new girl, if you really want to get out of here, then I'll tell you my escape plan, but you don't have to count on further help from me! Consider this!- when you heard about the plan, you looked at the rabbit with even more interest.

- Okey... So what's your plan?

- Not all at once! First, it would not be bad for you to cross paths with our other participants, look for them somewhere on the street...You can start with our Digital Lake at the foot of the mountain...Unless, of course, you're afraid of getting bogged down there...-After listening to him, you glanced over your shoulder at the exit of the tent.

- Okay, I'll take care of it. Bye, Jax! - waving goodbye to him, you walked briskly to the exit.

- Good luck to you... heh, new girl)

After watching you with narrowed eyes, the rabbit got off the stage and sighed heavily, shaking his head.

- That naive fool, she believed that I had an escape plan!...-He started to laugh, but then thought about it- Though if Caine finds out about it...I'm going to be in big problems... Oh, well, I don't care! I don't think he cares about any of this right now...

After standing in place for some more time, the rabbit took one last look at the exit of the tent, after which he hurried away in an unknown direction..."

#art #drawing #traditional art #artists on tumblr #the amazing digital circus #alternate universe #the amazing mystical circus #tadc #bunny #tadc jax #my art #the amazing digital circus jax #jax fanart #easter bunny #tadc au #tadc art

30 notes · View notes

r0-boat · 3 days ago

Text

Save me Laois the stress of you know what is affecting me

Laois' dick getting sucked

Monster eater x monster fucker/hj

Laois' x Gn!reader

Cw: oral, porn with plot

There wasn't enough space for everyone in the party. So you and Laois, being one of the best at fighting, can handle situations on your own pretty well. The two of you had volunteered to stay in a separate room.

Somehow, the two of you kept your relationship mostly a secret. Only because of the two oblivious people at the party did the two of you never see a reason to state the relationship, which had its upsides. You, being the more sly, took full advantage of it. He felt the shiver in his body as you gave him that look you always give him.

He practically flinched his eyes wide as he trained on the devilish look on your face.

Oh that look...

A look reserved for only him...

A look that made you look more akin to a succubus. Out of everyone in the party you were the most intimidating to him, for a different reason . Because on nights like these when the two of you are alone he would become your dinner.

He was never used to how your gentle fingers touch and caress and explore his body. His little reactions, whether it be a gasp or a whimper we're music to your ears.

"Laois', keep your voice down; otherwise, everyone else will hear you~"You let out a low-throated purr.

His entire being crumbling at your voice alone. You are always more socially aware able to pick him apart. Always knew exactly where to touch, where every sensitive spot on his body You even found ones he never knew about.

Laois' silences his whimpers sinking his teeth into his fingers as he watched her take him in your mouth.

That fucking mouth.

The one part of your body he has meticulously, how can he not?! The first time you sucked him off That was all he could think about for days for weeks watching you eat food, or helping to cook with Senshi, or speaking to Marcel about learning more healing magic.

Or even when you sing and strum your instrument. He could never look at it the same again. It took him days to get over it, You ruined him.

Who knew someone with such a beautiful voice could use those lips for something so sinful?

Those pretty pillow lips wrapped around his shaft.

When your tongue flicks around his head, he practically unravels; it took everything inside him not to make a noise thrusting his hips up into your mouth as he cums down your throat.

But you weren't done....

You've come to notice how pent-up Your cute blonde-haired freak is. The first night The two of you explored for the first time he seemed nervous...

You weren't very experienced, but living in a rambunctious tavern in a not-so-good part of the city has made you pick up a few things. Whether it be from the drunken confessions of adventures to having to hear or sometimes, unfortunately, see what goes on in the bedrooms upstairs. You lost many nights of sleep because the thin walls were from your bedroom to the others.

"W-wait! Please I'm S-sensit-!"

You hummed at his complaint, giving him a few gentle strokes before kissing him. As he was getting a little too loud.

His eyes grew soft again It didn't seem like he didn't want to stop either.

Your body practically moves in the sink as he presses your head down onto him. His cock filled your mouth, and every time, it was a struggle to fit from the length and the sheer girth. Running your tongue over each vein which, as you expected, Laois lets out a pleased hum.

You watch his eyes dart from your hand to his balls. You already know what he's asking. Something he could never utter out loud despite hearing far worse things from this man's mouth when it comes to eating monsters.

It was cute watching his eyes light up when you lick your fingers before gently massaging his balls. His balls were sensitive since they were big and swollen. His eyes rolled back; feeling those soft hands cupping and playing with him always drove him up the wall.

He tagged at your hair a little too hard as he felt himself getting close once again, his other hand trying to keep himself steady as he leaned his entire body back, bracing himself. His breath gets more heavy and shaky with each bob of your head.

He couldn't hold back this time making audible noise as he finishes He didn't mean to thrust his hips down your throat. The motion and the way your throat squeezed around and felt so good.

And the little muffled noise you made will have him lose hours of sleep for the next day or two.

Your heart practically jumped when Laois' ice darkened. You don't know what came over him. You could never fully know what he's thinking, no matter how much you think you got him. He ever so gently lay you down onto the dungeon floor. His voice husky, those beautiful golden innocent eyes darkening with lust his pupils blown wide "You, haven't came yet... Let me taste you."

#can you imagine stress writing porn?#hahahhahahahha #smut #laois touden #laois dungeon meshi #Reader is a bard by the way #dungeon meshi x reader #laois x reader #laois delicious in dungeon #laois #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #no beta

23 notes · View notes

shadowy-lie · 3 days ago

Text

"He who fights with monsters, should look into it that he himself does not become a monster...And if you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you."

-Friedrich Netzsche

The words, quote, mocked him from where he sat infront of her. The clock on the wall ticks away as the seconds pass. He had made his choice, he had made it clear to her that he was saying anything. That there was no reason for these pointless-his words- sessions; "I don't need any goddamn therapy." Were his exact words.

His eyes fell back to her. She hadn't said a word since his statement, not even looking up at him. She'd wasted no time pulling out a fucking blank book and a pencil to do whatever-fuck-knows. The continuous scratching of the pencil on the paper made him huff in annoyance. The sound muffled by the plain black balaclava he was currently wearing . She didn't stop, hands maneuvering the pencil deftly across the paper. His hands cross over his chest as he shifts to a slouching position on the off-white colored couch, as he looks back up at the quote hanging on the back wall. His left eye twitches as he unwillingly re-reads the words again.

The silence irked him. He preferred it, but in this situation he found it irksome the current scenario brought back the three times she'd randomly showed up in the mission briefings, only to sit down and sketch away in her book silently. Price voiced his concerns to Laswell about it, but she waved him off saying: "It won't last long." But she stuck around.

Training, mission briefings, personnel recruitment, she was always there. An ever present presence on the base. It annoyed him. He hated that he didn't have much of an effect on her as she had on him.

He was known for being off-putting. Large frame, almost always clad in dark hoods and pants with an even darker mask that hid his cold, signature glare-

Loud sequential beeps filled the silent room, breaking his reminiscing-dont call it that. It's an observation. Their-his- session was over. An entire hour wasted in silence. The beeping continued for another five seconds, before slender fingers tap the top of the digital clock, silencing it. Red zeros blink repeatedly before disappearing altogether.

Blood rushed to his head, ears ringing as his eyes found her looking at him, staring at him, waiting for him to move. He almost missed the way her head tilted to the side, towards the door. Those eyes, a deep, rich blue-Indigo? They pulled him in, like a vortex, a whirlpool, A black hole, a shapeless abyss. Those eyes and that damn, polite as fuck, smile bore down on him as he stood up. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pant, hiding the way his fingers twitched rapidly, as he made his way over to the stark white door. He almost didn't want to touch it.

It was clean, the entire room, she was-is-too, unlike him. He was tainted, scared. He dared to look back at her. She was back to drawing again. He could make out a crude image of what it was, but he wasn't an artist. He couldn't understand her like she could apparently understand him.

Harshly, he opened the door, walked out, and slammed it shut. He didn't mean to, he just couldn't stay in that room any longer. He needed to leave.

Huffing, he marched into the training room-the in-house gym. The newest additions to the task force, two Sargents, occupied the treadmills each, to their own devices. Good. Carefully, with practiced movements, he tugs off his dark greyhoodie, mindful not to accidentally remove his balaclava.

Tossing his sweater to the side haphazardly, he wastes no time dealing a devastating punch to the sandbag. It was loud, the sound rang in his head like a gun shot. The sandbag swung slowly, mocking him. He punches it again, twice, in quick succession. It jerks on its chains, swinging faster, like a dead body hanging on a noose in the wind. It's getting harder to breathe, he's sweating profusely under the mask.

"Fucking hell..." He mumbles, British-Manchester- accent coming through thickly. He hisses, gloved hands clenched tightly into a fist. Another punch, another gun shot. Images flash behind his eyes. His past. It's unsavory, more than any one person should have to go through, but he did, and he survived, he lived, he's fucking alive!

He give the sandbag one last punch, sending it flying across the the gym floor, sand pouring from a hidden tear in the leather fabric. "Christ..." he hissed lowly, feeling the sweat running down the expanse of his shoulders.

Deep breaths.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Her words rung in his head like a church bell.

Again, slowly.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Loud and insistent. He couldn't help but listen to them.

Once more.

Inhale.

Exhale.

His breathing steadies.

He remembered where he'd heard them. She was comforting an operator who suffered from chronic panic attacks. Her voice was soft, smooth, and comforting, but steady, strong, balanced and firm. He'd never admit it to anyone, but it sent an unwanted shiver down his back and fluttering in the pits of his abdomen. He was still sweating and can feel the eyes of the Sargents staring at him.

He paid them no mind, yanking his sweater off some random part of the floor and trudging out, her words still echoing inside his skull like a broken record.

"Just can't leave me the fuck alone..." he mumbles through gritted teeth. Dark, menacing brown eyes narrow like needles, an arrow tip, a sniper finding an opening to take a shot at a target.

Bang. Head shot.

He hated this. Hated her.

That was a lie. He didn't hate her. If he was being completely honest, he prefered her above the other bloody bastards. His eyes lock onto a familiar warhawk. Dumb as fuck hairstyle. He rolls his eyes as the Scottsman, dreading another pointless, fruitless, attempt at a proper conversation.

"There ye are, LT! Laswell sent me to get ye." Soap, Johnny McTavish, bounded over to him with a shit eating grin on his face, picking away at dried beef jerky.

"Fuck off, Johnny..." he growled under his mask, shoving past the Scottsman.

"Aww, c'mon Ghost. We s'posed tae be getting some new help...PMC's."

The statement made him freeze in his tracks. Fire, bullets, and Graves' betrayal flash like lightning behind his eye lids. Slowly, he turns his to stare down then Sergent. "More bloody PMC's?"

"Aye, Laswell says they're our new 'hunting dogs', Wha'ever that means." Soap shugs, sauntering to Ghost's side. "Who knows, maybe we'll actually get some new enforcement, eh?"

Ghost sighs, shoulders slumping before tensing up again like usual. "Fuckin hell, Mctavish..." he hisses, pinching the bridge of his noes. Brown eyes harden and deepen into black pits, black holes, a shapeless abyss.

Soft mummers drew his attention to the two Sargents. They were looking at him, probably for the last 10 minutes. He saw them, and they saw him. It was awkward.

"She ought to be there too, I bet..."

Ghost stiffens, shoulders bunch up even more as he mutters obscenities under his breath. He forgot that she was an entity that made her presence known by just existing.

She was like a parasite. A deadly and unpredictable attachment he wanted to be rid of.

A want and a need are two different things, remember that, love.

He heard her say those words just a week ago, to a soilder who apparently had enough of the military life. Who wanted to leave, but consulted her for advice on the matter. She expressed indifference, but the way the soilder's face contorted into one of confusion, pain, regret and a plethora of other emotions.

He drags a gloved hand down his face, groaning loudly. He dreaded meeting, Soap knew it and even the new recruits new it. It radiated off him in waves.

Sighing softly, he continued the walk to his side of the barracks. Secluded, but not to far from anyone- perks of being a high ranking officer. Once inside he roughly sits down on the edge of the sorry excuse for a bed, the springs crying out under his weight, the mattress sinking, and the bed legs bending. How it hadn't completely given out yet will always be a mystery to him.

His lips felt raw-he'd been chewing on them for a while and the worn fabric of the old mask rubbed on them, irritating the flesh.

He wasn't nervous. Not in the least. Not like he was going to admit it to himself. The only reason why he was even considering going to that meeting was because it was Laswell, and she could get real finicky about information being spread word of mouth; "Miscommunication kills, Lieutenant..." a warning from experience or words of advice, regardless, he knew better than to test the formidable CIA agent.

His left eye twitches, annoyance and resignation comes through in a harsh sigh, broad shoulders sagging, if only slightly.

A change of appearance- sweats aren't exactly fit for a mission breifing, into something more fitting of the rank, his signature skull balaclava mask hiding an already shrouded identity-the embodiment of a ghost.

A broken mirror sits idly in a corner, shards missing and whatever remained had web like cracks, warping his image-his identity had been warped long ago, for a long time. He squints and huffs, tension rises in his shoulders, biceps contracting, trembling and stiffening under his skin.

He grunts, gripping the flesh and kneading it slowly as he leaves his room, lightly rusted metal door creaking shut as he steps out, Soap already waiting with a small grin on his face.

"Took ye time gettin pretty jus f'r me, LT?" he teased, head tilting to the side smugly.

"Gotta keep up appearances, Johnny..." Ghost hummed in response, making a beeline towards the briefing room, the Sargent sauntering beside him.

The hallway his mostly quiet, lower rank officers either in their barracks or out on the field running drills with their CO. A familiar feeling of...familiarity bubbles up in his subconscious, the base of his throat tightening, becoming hot and tingly. His strides become longer, faster, eager to get away from such...baggage.

"Ease up will ya, LT, no' everyone's big as you..." Soap chuckles, breaking into a light jog to keep up with the tall man. Ghost lets out a muted grunt, eyes darkening even more as he tries to swallow down that burning sensation that rises to the muscle in his jaw, the nerves sparking alight like whelding iron. The tension in his shoulders return 10 fold, neck muscles straining under invisible pressure as he reluctantly slows down so his Sargent can keep up-which was good, else he'd have passed the room to the meeting.

He steps in and almost freezes in the doorway.

His mouth dries as his eyes find her form in the furthest corner of the room.

He'd seen her not even an hour ago, but this was the first time he'd ever seen her out of her signature white coat-it was always buttoned close...but now?

He blinked as he took her in, Soap passing before his line of sight briefly before he's watching her again.

He instinctively glares at her, cold, steely and unyielding. If she noticed, she doesn't give it away. She remains still, hands clasped behind her back like the professional she was-certified, if you wanted to be literal.

She stood poised, face set to her default neutral, her eyes blinking at random intervals hiding that all-encompassing abyss behind lazy eyelids. It shouldn't- never mind.

His mind was drifting, as she described it from one of her many observations. She must watch him as well, not many can get away that.

His eyes twitches under the mask, irritating and annoying. He stood off to the side-as usual-with sniper eyes already scanning the room for the 5th time in under 2 minutes-

Could be undiagnosed anxiety, possibly paranoia, or even PTS-

The auditory hallucinations-his thoughts damnit-come to a halt when he feels movement to his left. He looks, eyes moving first before his head-useful.

Kyle Garrick, callsign Gaz, walked over(read sauntered) to him, gloved hands gripping onto the straps of the tacticle vest, dusty blue cap and sunglasses on, a signature part of his appeal.

"Garrick."

"Lt."

Acknowledgement and nothing more.

"Never seen her out that coat. Feels strange." Gaz started talking. Low and under breath, head leaning to Ghost's direction as he himself casted his eyes to her.

"..."

Acknowledgement and nothing more small talk.

"What'd you think she's here for this time?" Garrick was, unfortunately, a talker. Observant, but a talker, a conversationist.

"Can't say that I know, Garrick." Simon Riley, Callsign Ghost, was the furthest thing from a talker-telling terrible dad jokes served to "break the ice" more than anything.

"No' even a hint?"

"None."

Not like he would have gotten any. The woman was hard to read and her eyes were hauntingly expressionless-much like his own, if he chose to be honest.

Movements infront of him made the skin at the back of his neck prickle, suppressing a groan.

"McTavish."

"Agh- take the piss, Lt."

Ghost just huff and rolls his eyes.

"She looks like a statue..." Gaz suddenly speaks up, taking a step back and closer to Ghost's side, eyes trained on where their in-house therapist was still standing. Motionless.

"Thought she'd be sittin' down already, marking up 'er lil whats-it-called.."

Sketch book. His mind supplies. His lips utter in turn. Out loud, under his mask, and not as muffled as he would like to think.

The group goes silent, but it's loud regardless. He knows they heard him, but his demeanor gives nothing away.

No shame.

No embarasment.

All hidden beneath a homestitched mask. Carefully curated to hide and keep hidden.

Gaz shuffles on his feet before his eyes find where she now currently stood, arms folded and face set to a fierce neutrality.

She was -is- beautiful, yet unfairly intimidating.

"She's like a statue..." he murmured, filling the silence, drawing attention back to their hired confidant.

McTavish nods silently and Ghost grunts, unwilling.

Metal doors slam open-a normal occurrence- and Captain John Price enters with Laswell and another personnel, in-tow carrying a stack of intelligence papers.

Busy, bloody, body. Ghost squints as the person went around handing out papers to the team before approaching the lady therapist.

The trio-Ghost, Soap, and Gaz- watches on silently as the personnel stood before her with the same papers in hand.

Without missing a beat her hands unfolded to receive the Intel.

A breath isn't wasted before the personnel is out the room, door slowing closing behind them.

There is a dull chill that envelopes the room. Ghost, Soap, and Gaz watch on as she makes swift movememnt to a further corner of the room, almost floating across the floor.

She finds the corner adjacent to theirs, already skimming through the papers as Laswell began the meeting with standard exposition of the handouts.

"Why's she here?" Soap cuts in suddenly, crossing his arms as he asks the obvious question. Laswell only spares him a glance before sighing exasperatedly.

"There is a reason, and I'll tell you after the the debrief." She bargains, but Gaz speaks up next.

"You've never given us a proper answer, miss." He starts, respectful as always. "I heard that this mission is gonna have a lot more personnel involved, people we don't work with. So with all due respect...why is the shrink here? What use is she to this kind of thing." He too crosses his arms.

Ghost had only been half listening to the current conversation. His eyes were trained onto said shrink. Her form seemed incorporeal in the corner she stood in.

If Ghost wasn't a trained and battle hardened soilder, as a skilled sniper, he wasn't sure if he would be able to trust what he was seeing.

He'd noticed, for quite some time, she wasn't actually reading the information provided-just as he didn't, the papers taken away from him by his much cheerier counter- she was actually looking at them.

Abyssal blue locking onto each person in the room. Soap, Gaz and Laswell remain unaware. Price, who hadn't said a word since entering the room, remained occupied with the handouts. Simon Riley stands motionless, as usual.

But he notices her gaze. It's cold, almost unfeeling as it passes over everyone present.

#this is as far as I got with this.#I write my girls as cold an unfeeling :)#simon riley x reader #first post #simon riley #therapist reader?#this was not planned at all #there is a plot I just cannot find it

21 notes · View notes

captnbunnie · 1 day ago

Text

Oh man, I had been waiting to read this post!! Problem was that everytime I remembered I could not find where I saved it haha (spoiler: it was on my own chat lol)

Anyways, oooh this is very interesting!! It makes Odysseus such a human and complex character, it's incredible the levels of mastery that Homer had with his sotries!

Honestly everytime I read one of your analysis I cannot stop myself from comparing the Odyssey to Epic, and it just makes me realise more and more how much the musical missed and what we could have had! The idea of listening to a musical in which Odysseus is helpless in the face of fate, where he does his best in saving his men, having an objective that is not just about him (seeing Penelope and Telemachus again) but is about all the men that are with him (trying to save the most men he can and take them home with him), just gets me yearing for one!

I still keep thinking about that post you made about Circe, how it would have been so much better if we'd have seen Odysseus not being able to reject Circe's proposal, and him just calling to Penelope and the gods,,, and then later how it would have sounded if instead of "embracing" violence, he had just felt depressed and humiliated after Charybys and Calypso, with only his desire to see his family and kingdom again to push him forward, maybe also as a tribute to remember the sacrifice of his men and their efforts during the war and the travel,,,

I really don't like much how he became a violent beast in the last saga, I think it's very out of character for him (as if everything that happened earlier wasn't lol), but as you said in many other of your posts, I think it would have had a better inpact if the end point of the travel was to show a desperate man trying to come home but left to face the force of nature alone. I think it really does a better job at translating how, even if he has all the resolution in the world, even if he has a very strong wish, even if he tries his best, it does not mean that he'll be able to get what he wants. It doesn't mean anything in the face of reality and nature and fate, much stronger forces then a mere man. I truly enjoy those kind of stories much more because they portray something real, something that could happen to all of us. Instead Epic decided to go to the more "edgy" route, which maybe I would have appreciated more when I was younger haha.

Also while reading this I was listening to "Monster" (one of the songs of the Underworld saga) and it made me just yearn harder for a different adaptation of the Odyssey in Epic haha because I think that that song, if taken out of context (so ignoring everything else that happens in Epic) maybe could have been a song that represented Odysseus in a more "just" way?

Before continuing, I gotta say that I've read only some excerpts and some analysis of the Odyssey, so what I'm about to say might be very wrong haha (but that's why I'm sharing my toughts with you, cause I'm curious to know what you think about this)

Anyways, I think it would be actually a nice song related to him, I really like how he shows empathy towards his "enemies", after all, if I didn't read those scenes wrong, he does the same in the Odyssey. When he enters Polyphemus' cave, even if he knows he might be in danger, he still decides to follow xenia and give Polyphemus a chance to show hospitality (even if it doesn't work out), he is also shown to give Calypso sympathy, when he is about to get home, and see things from her point of view (even after all she did to him). So I think it's a good moment of self reflection for him, it shows that he is not in search for enemies but he just wants to go home.

Even the way he talks about Poseidon, saying "Or does he keep us in check so we must respect him / And now no one dares to piss him off?" I think it does reflect in a way what the Odyssey, or just any myth, tries to warn men about, respecting gods and nature because they are bigger forces that cannot be contrasted (which is very ironic if interpreted like this, because the last saga shows us the exact opposite lol)

And the last verse too "Does a soldier use a wooden horse to kill sleeping trojans cause he is vile? / Or does he throw away his remorse and save more lives with guile" I think it could go along with what you say in this analysis, that he makes decisions that others cannot to save as many people and lives as he can (even if he doesn't get many results,,,) and it also highlights how some people say that he played "dirty" with the wooden horse, but here it makes you realise why he did so, and that his plan is as honorable as attacking directly is.

The only thing that I think is kinda out of place in this interpretation of the song is that here he says that he still has to become "ruthless" to save his men, thus becoming a "monster", which I feel undermines what I said until now, that is that what he did, what others tought was "playing dirty", is actually that, an unjust plan.

Anyways, all this just to say that your analysis have been plaguing my mind and I keep thinking about a different version of Epic, and this song absolutely dealt a blow on me because, it has potential!!!! And yet, it's not used. It makes me yearn so hard for a true adaptation of the Odyssey.

I feel like if one were to adapt the Odyssey with songs, it would be a much better fit a musical series , like hazbin hotel haha (yeah, I want the songs that badly, I love musicals XD)

(Sorry if I started talking about Epic under such a good analysis of the Odyssey, I know that it seems kinda out of topic (and it probably is), but I don't think a comment would have been fit to write all this stuff haha)

Why didn't Odysseus's crew stage a mutiny against him in the Odyssey? (An analysis based on Homer's Odyssey)

It has been a while since the last time I did some Odyssey Analysis and here is an interesting question that goes on in this. A very valid question actually.

During the arduous trip in the Odyssey, the Cephallinians suffered greater loss than anything they suffered at the 10 year war at Troy. They lost almost all ships and all men were dying. They were reduced to a ship of a crew with less than 40 people and they didn't seem to get much hope. So of course one could ask; what was holding them back and didn't fight back against Odysseus apart from the indirect mutiny they did when he turned his eyes away from him to pray? Why their only mutiny was to disobey his orders and slay the cattle of Helios Hyperion? Surely more than 30 men could do plenty of damage to one man right? Why didn't they? And why is it important for the story?

So while thinking about it I came down with some possible explanations as to why that happened;

Odysseus was beloved to the gods

Regardless of their terrible situations, Odysseus probably still had the fame of someone beloved to the gods. He used to be directly communicating with Athena and was under her protection. Despite the fact that he was cursed by a god, there could be some sort of a thought running to their minds; what if we harm him and the gods strike us for it? What if there will be consequences for directly wishing harm to one who was blessed to be appreciated by gods? It could possibly be a risk that they didn't want to take. And it makes sense given how much Odysseus interracted even with minor gods during the trip (for example Aeolus or Circe). Quite frankly they might as well have wished that at some point Odysseus would appeal to yet another god for help.

Odysseus was beloved to his subjects

If you look at my other analysis here You can remember how beloved leader Odysseus was even to subjects such as slaves who in theory would have no real reason to be loyal to him. Odysseus seemed always to be a just and beloved leader and his men on the ship were not an exception. Regardless of whether they had lost faith hin him in his capability to bring him home or if they doubted his judgement, they couldn't get past the emotional connection; Odysseus had protected them during the war to the point of suffering the least possible losses, during the trip he was going to extreme measures to protect them (even the cruel misadventure in which Odysseus cut the rope from his ship to save the last ship from the Laestrygonians might as well have spoken volumes to the men that were saved). It would be hard for them to completely ignore that even in the face of mistrust. Somehow it would also be them thinking that they "owe him" till that part.

Odysseus was hiding stuff from them that could be important

Ironically the very source of their mistrust was protecting Odysseus. Odysseus didn't share with them the nature of the sack of Aeolus even if he seemed pretty clear that they couldn't touch it (and that led to their first tragedies). Later he hid the information that they would have to go through the Sirens till the very last moment where he warned them about it. Later he hid completely the information that they would go through Skylla and Charybdis. His men could think "How many more things did this man know on their way home and hid it from them?" if they captured or killed him in a mutiny how were they sure there weren't more dangers ahead that Odysseus was hiding from them and could either be informed the last moment or not at all? What guarantee did they have that Odysseus didn't know even MORE about their course? They had none. So ironically the very reason they began to mistrust him in the first place became the reason Odysseus was safe from their rage.

No one wanted to take responsibility at time of crisis!

Last and definitely not least comes for me the most important reason of all at least story-wise that shows how excellent writer Homer is into writing human nature. His men didn't stage a mutiny because no matter how displeased they were with his decisions, literally NO ONE wants to have the same responsibility to take decisions in time of crisis! Honestly, how many times do common folk feel themselves find a scapegoat usually to the face of their leaders when things go south? (and for good reason that is given that they are the ones with the responsibility to take decisions). When something goes wrong we blame the leader, the government or someone that has come forth and not only takes the decisions but also is responsible for the blame as well.

During their arduous trip Odysseus took some of the most painful decisions they could imagine in order to save what he could; he advised them to leave the Cicones and they didn't which led to their first tragedy; he tried to correct his mistake by appeasing the god Aeolus, he took the decision to sacrifice his ships in order to save the one he could knowing full well that they would never be able to fight against the Laestrygonians. He knew the 11 ships were lost cause so he acted fast cutting the ropes of his own ship and sailing away, making sure to save what he could even if that meant to the terrible loss. He traveled to the underworld even though he was alive, he chose Skylla over Charybdis knowing that the sacrifice would be too great but still not as great as to lose them all.

Regardless of their emotions at that moment; they put themselves in his shoes and realize that none of them would take the burden of leadership and take those decisions for them. Odysseus with his nerves of steel managed to save them so far even if they had so many losses and undoubtedly they realized that in his shoes they would never be able to act so efficiently and so fast. And knowing their own reactions against him; blaming him for the losses, they realize that none of them would have the guts to take not only the painful decisions but also the blame and hate that follows them. Odysseus was lifting on his shoulder as much hate and anger as very few others; not only his previous experiences at war and his actions but now his decisions of the trip. I have no doubt that even in their anger the men admired how he could carry it all.

Conlcusions:

Homer is a master of words and plot. I have no doubt that if he thought it served the plot he would have mentioned his men staging a full on mutiny against Odysseus or in one way I am almost certain he thought of the possibility being quite doable given as I said above that Odysseys was one man and the others were over 30. However knowing how great he is in protraying human emotions to his writing I think his choice of plot was deliberate.

Not only was Odysseus someone that could erupt not only controversy but also superstition given his close relationship with gods before, his leadership was always admirable regardless of the results (knowing his prudent nature and how plenty of his orders that were disobeyed ended up in a tragedy and let's face it Odysseus was also a brilliant fighter. I doubt anyone would easily take the first step to fight him one on one either!) and above all he was one of the best when it came on taking some really difficult decisions, carrying on his back not only the personal guilt he felt while taking them but also the anger of others and their retalliation. And in an amazingly human writing Homer speaks on times of crisis. When people do not wish to take responsibility at times of Crisis because they know full well that their decisions rarely ever would be painless!

Therefore they couldn't retalliate against him; they didn't want the responsibility of leadership or the blame for the losses. They didn't want to stand against authority directly either. So they took the indirect mutiny decision; when authority is not present they disobey or they break their will when the force of authority.

Could we perhaps one more time appeal to the usual theory of "unreliable storyteller" and speak on how Odysseus doesn't want to mention a mutiny in his story to Phaeakes because he doesn't want to appear as weak leader in their eyes?

We could but in my opinion this doesn't seem likely. Odysseus is already humiliated; shipwrecked and a beggar in their house. He mentioned how it was ellegedly his fault that the whole domino of reactions began when he mentions how he was yelling to Polyphemus being blasphemus that not even Poseidon could put him back together if he had killed him (which let's face it is too much given that gods had no probelm resurrecting some dead before). He had already mentioned his men not listening to him and disobedience was already a heavy thing. He didn't hide most of the unpleasant experiences during the trip so why miss the opportunity of shifting the blame to his men, saying that they stage a mutiny against him thus himself being unable to react instead of stating that he fell asleep during the prayer? To show that his men fear him so they do not dare to face him? Perhaps but it seems unlikely given the whole story in which Odysseus doesn't hide his bad sides from them.

What do you guys think? Let me know to your comments and reblogs below! ^_^

#sorry again TwT #but your analysis hount me (in the best way)#and I didn't know where else to share my toughts haha #also I know this might be redundant to you #I've seen you talk about how Epic had potential about other songs but didn't use it #I think I just wanted to add to that lol #I hope this is not too bad

97 notes · View notes

llycaons · 2 years ago

Text

another thing I liked was how vicious and hateful and unforgivable xy was depicted because he literally did manipulate a good man into murdering hundreds of people and then tortured and murdered a little girl, whose pov we are reading from, like I find him entertaining as a villain but he's absolutely vile and sooo many fics want to be like '🥺 he just needed love' well he actually did get unconditional love and support and companionship FROM XXC and he used it to manipulate and mass murder so idk it was really awful what he went through but I think in any situation he would have been a fucked up sadist out for his own amusement and you know what im just going to link it: x. it's good but the wx is very novel-faithful so 😔

#'but he was sad when xxc died!' okay he still continued to murder and torture people?#I think he had an obsession that was probably romantic/sexual in nature too but it was extremely self-centered and violent #and it didn't stop him from being a monster #imo a weakness of the commentary on Society from the series is how jgy and xy actually were given chances and they squandered them #which can happen ofc but it seems to validate their mistreatment and abuse in retrospect like lxc slapping jgy was so awful and out of line #and the only solution to being poor and and not being villainized is to just Be Perfect like wwx #or be an unassuming and harmless commoner like mianmian's husband #I also think su she's who schtick of being insecure and jealous and a ruining people's lives over it just sucks and has bad implications #since he's sooo jealous of rich people but he's also presented as weak and a pathetic/desperate copycat #which is a shame bc the complexity of wwx's situation and how ppl treat him based on his parentage is really well-done imo #and the series could have said a lot more #anyway if you unironically write cutesy domestic AUs with xy I think you might be too far gone to bring back #ficblogging

6 notes · View notes

triglycercule · 2 months ago

Text

murder time trio come back from killing some guy (me) and dust just pulls out a rainbow cleaning duster and starts dusting himself off. horror questions him. he says it's self care

5 notes · View notes

beef-brisket · 19 hours ago

Note

((Yess and you know our boy has his tits out to lol))

Adam didn't mind Michael. As much as he tried to hide his distain towards Mother Lilith, Adam always saw through him. A few years ago, he confided in Adam about wanting to escape, to kill Mother Lilith.

Adam couldn't help but feel for him. Michael helped Adam see past the castle and learn about other cultures and places. He had no idea there were other people out there.

Mother Lilith tried to make the lords act as siblings. No one really acknowledged it, but Adam always saw Michael as his uncle. He trusted him more than the others. He thought he was less insane.

But he was very wrong.

His factory that was once the biggest money earner for the village became something darker.

He ran experiments there. Turning normal people into mindless machines. Each Lord were given parasites to try and make a host for Mother Lilith, but most went wrong.

The only ones that didn't result in mindless husks were Adam and Emily.

Lucifer looked around as he usually did, Adam seemed to be in his own thoughts, so he left himself to it.

Suddenly, the air felt electric, and suddenly, he was encased in metal. It's just like he was when he first entered this hell hole.

Michael: Well! Look what the cat dragged in! I was going to make contact with you eventually, but look. You made your own way here! And Adam! So good to see you again! How have you been since that giant bitch locked you away in that damp castle? I see you've grown~.

Adam: As well as you could imagine. Being stuck with those two isn't the best situation. But I made it out. Almost. I need you to let Lucifer go.

Michael: Lucifer!? That's who this is~?

Adam: I know you've been watching us, you know who he is.

Michael: Oh, you got me! You've always been more observed than the average monster! So, you and Lucifer. What gives?

Adam: He helped me, and now I'm helping him. Kind of. He wants to stop Mother Lilith. I'm sure you have a plan.

Michael: Of course I do. Think Daddy will be interested?

Adam: Maybe. He's pretty homicidal. He'll take some convincing.

Michael: I expected as much. Don't worry, Adam. I have a way with words~.

Adam chuckled as Michael pulled the metal scraps away from Lucifer, freeing him.

Lucifer: Hello to you, to. Asshole.

Michael: Oh- I knew I liked you for a reason~. Come! I have a grand plan to tell you about!

Adam helped Lucifer up, and they followed after Michael. Lucifer looked over to Adam. He looked comfortable. But Lucifer was definitely more on edge.

Have you seen Resident Evil: Village? All I'm saying is Adam and Emily as two of the three sisters and Sera as Lady Dimitrescu.

Lucifer is Ethan trying to find Charlie.

At first, Adam was on his mother and sisters side- but because they have a weird thing against dudes, he eventually helps Lucifer.

Trust me, it feels illegal not to make Adam the stunning Lady Dimitrescu, but for story reasons, he'll be one of her kids.

I mean, their hot. What can I say? Adam would look great like this 🤷

Adam: Mmm- man flesh~.

Lucifer: ...Kinda gay, man.

Adam: It's not gay.

Lucifer: It is- man flesh? Really?

Adam: ...

Lucifer: ...

Adam: *stabs sickle into his leg and drags him away* Mother!

I have seen it! Ha I love this. ((Yes he'd rock being the Lady of the house 😩))

Lucifer: Ow!! What the fuck!?

Adam: It's not gay! Mother was right.

49 notes · View notes

13eyond13 · 1 year ago

Text

#One of the scenes from that dumb Fahrenheit 451 book that I can't stop thinking about btw #The guy's wife has a few of her housewife friends over to watch a fave show with her #He comes in the room shuts the show off and forces them all to make small talk with him while inwardly being like 'WHAT A BUNCH OF MORONS'#especially when one of the women said she decided to have C sections when she gave birth because she didn't want to experience immense pain #(which is supposed to help prove what a perverted godless unnatural lazy idiot she's become because of tv or whatever I guess?)#And then he yells at them all and calls them monsters and forces them to listen to him recite a random poem #like even in a universe where books are not illegal can you even imagine hahaha #The immense awkwardness and snobbery of him my god like let the ladies enjoy a golldang TV show and have a c section #It just is like the most r/iamverysmart thing ever and no offense but I thought the poem kinda sucked #I almost want to write a fanfic from his wife's pov because I feel like it could be very funny to see the protagonist #From her pov instead #p

15 notes · View notes

je-suis-problematique · 4 months ago

Text

We're in a mood for moodboards so have our PREVIOUS fronting team that was comprised of Caliban, Judeau, Grael (he had a very strong presence in the system back in the day), Jasper (an alter from Chris' subsystem), Black Reaper (an alter from Kaneki's subsystem), Kovacs (me), May, Krauser (another alter from Chris' subsystem.... They used to switch more often back then), and Griffith (OG Griffith, not one of his many AUs). All of these alters took a billion steps back after the whole substance abuse crisis that was mixed into the drama from the breakup with our partner system IRL, nowadays it's mostly the Baldur's Gate folks running the show and everyone who used to be active fronters BEFORE the drug crisis happened kind of just hid themselves away, claiming that they aren't in possession of enough mental energy to help out with what's currently been happening on Main. I can't say I blame them honestly. Our life is incredibly stressful and we ARE falling apart at the seams so the exhausted veterans made way for the still-somewhat-put-together newbies to handle our daily life in their stead. I would like to say that we've been in recovery this whole time but some wounds take a LOT of time to heal which makes me happy that we found a new therapist today and that she agreed to help us sort through the psychological and emotional salad we've been carrying with us this whole time without knowing how to even BEGIN to unravel it.

– Kovacs

#kovacs speaks #guts should've been on this list as well but judeau fronted more often so we chose judeau in the end #but just know that guts is a close second to judeau he tanked a lot of stress back in the day #caliban is our one man crisis team #judeau is a soother #grael is a general helper who normally used to front when we had long to-do lists to go through he was our go-getter #jasper was comic relief for whenever shit got too stressful #reaper was trauma-related #kovacs was and still is a protector who will handle high-stress situations like it's nothing #may was also comic relief but make it introspective #she helped us process our feelings and shit #krauser was also trauma-related but also work-oriented he helped us go through our to-do lists without breaking a sweat #ran errands like a champ #and griffith was THE most related to trauma and represented a lot of internalized shit we needed to work through #griffith was often used as a scapegoat for whenever shit went wrong within the system #just a straight up punching bag because we wanted to have someone we could blame for a bunch of fucked up shit #we started treating him better over time but the fact he's directly linked to femto made it hard to separate femto's actions from griffith'#at times #griffith is caliban's wifey so caliban would bark at us for trying to use griffith as a scapegoat most times but sometimes #you know #sometimes #sometimes we just couldn't help it and we felt like we needed someone to blame for our shortcomings as a system and griffith was it #we're still learning how to lay off griffith but it's just so easy to hate him considering his canon actions in his source #he didn't hurt anyone as an alter but his canon is enough to make us point our fingers at him and accuse him of being a monster #charlotte is one of our biggest griffith activists though and she's trying her hardest to make us stop bullying him #with varying levels of success #anyway long story short griffith is a loaded subject #alter lore #system lore #personal

0 notes

sqtorux · 3 months ago

Text

love makes a man tender— the same could be said for a monster.

sukuna sits patiently with his daughter on his lap while she applies various colours on his face he finds so hideous.

her small little hands pat the products into his skin, a bit too aggressively for his liking but he lets her regardless, not without a few grunts and huffs of annoyance though.

"pick another one" sukuna says in an irritated tone when she brought a bright pink blush close to his face.

the child only pouts "but 'ts pretty!!" now if you must know, sukuna dislikes pink; hates it even. it looks lively and soft — the exact opposite of who he was. (also maybe because a certain someone aka his least favourite niece has the exact same hair colour but the girl doesn't need to know that).

despite that, sukuna finds himself giving into that stupid pout he somehow catches himself adoring. all four of his eyes roll "get on with it then."

the giggles that follow after almost made him want to paint all of himself pink. almost.

however, what drove him to the edge was when he was asked to close his eyes so she could apply yet another colour onto them.

being the kid she is, she does it a bit sloppy— accidentally poking his eyes once or twice. "brat that hurts" sukuna growls but makes no move to stop her.

he thinks the foolish eye pokes were worth it when a light peck lands on each of his eyes "sorry daddy!" the child chuckles and sukuna opens his eyes.

one of his four hands make their way to her lips stained with a faint black— which he guesses were from his eyes, and wipes them away gently. "you look stupid."

the girl ignores his half assed words and brings yet another bright shade and begins applying it onto his lips. he sits obediently.

"there! you're done. you're so pretty daddy!!" the child squeals in excitement and brings a mirror to her father's face.

sukuna stares into the mirror and frowns "how horrifying."

"do you not like it?"

sukuna scoffs and places the mirror down "i have always wanted to look abominable."

"yes you look adorable!" the girl giggles while clapping her tiny hands together happily. sukuna doesn't correct her.

later when she sleeps and you're talking the makeup off for him, sukuna complaints.

"this is the result of the small brat's assault."

you only laugh in response and his eyes stare up to you. "i am being very serious."

"then why didn't you stop her?"

sukuna doesn't have an answer to that because that would mean he had to admit his affection for yet another person after you.

"that's right, you'd do anything for her won't you?" your chuckle makes all four of his eyes roll. he seems to do that a lot lately.

"the small brat and the big brat love tormenting me."

you raise a brow at this, "and do you have a problem with that?"

sukuna huffs but the soft expression replacing his usually grim one betrays the act of annoyance he puts up.

"i wouldn't have it any other way."

#✎𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna #jjk drabble #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna x you

4K notes · View notes

monstersflashlight · 2 months ago

Note

Here me out...scientists looking at fem!human lab rat getting fucked by a bunch of different monsters to study the different reactions of both the Monsters and the human 👀

We have serious mental issues guys...

Hi anon! We don't have mental issues, just great imagination.

When you applied for a job at a lab facility, you weren't expecting to be a monster's fleshlight. The job application specified absolutely nothing about it apart from saying you needed to be okay working with other species. And well, you were okay with that.

But the first day on the job, you found yourself being asked a bunch of weird questions, some of them very specific in its sexual nature. You didn't know what was happening, but you weren't too worried about it, what could happen? Maybe you should have asked.

When they finally explained to you that you'd be fucked by a bunch of different monsters and then you'd record a short video explaining how it felt and if you'd do it again, it was too late to back down. Not that you wanted to. You'd always been a bit of a freak, and seeing some other monsters at the facility only made you crave a different kind of experimentation. So it was like a match made in heaven. Or so you thought.

At first it was all good, they introduced you to the experiment with some aliens with a ridged dick and nice long fingers that made you come so many times you had to be helped back to your room after, your knees trembling and your pussy sore. The aliens were the same species as the scientists leading the research, and you wondered if he would join. He didn't the first day. They discovered you could be fucked multiple times by multiple dicks and still come.

The second day an orc and a minotaur appeared. Their dicks were pretty similar, and you had a great time riding both of them until you were filled to the brim over and over. That day they discovered that you could experiment what they called "cum inflation", your stomach distended because of the amount of cum shoot inside of you. You had to sit down and let the researcher finger everything out of you. He looked detached to it, but you came against his fingers once again.

The tentacle monster on the third day was fun. His big reproductive dick pushed into your hole as little tentacles played with your body. It was a weird sensation, but a good one. That day they discovered you could be stimulated at multiple points and that would make you come harder.

It continued like that for a few days, some monsters weird, some okay, but overall, it was such a great experience that the next day you were already dripping and hot when the werewolf entered. He stretched you with his claws and long tongue until you were crying out, just to push his fat dick inside of you until you were falling apart around him. Just to push his huge knot inside your dripping hole. You squirted all around him, making him laugh and a worried scientist come check on you.

The scientist could could have stopped everything that was happening, could have told the werewolf it was over... but instead he pinched your nipples as he pushed his alien dick in your mouth until you were gagging around him and his hips were fucking your face. It shouldn't have been as hot as it was. You came again, and again... And by the end of that session you were showered in alien and werewolf cum. You loved it.

They didn't discover anything that day, but you discovered your alien researcher had a bit of a thing for you, and he's like to explore it further.

Reminder that you can commission me (info here) or suscribe to my Patreon (info here). And that my second account is @whiskis

6K notes · View notes

suiana · 5 months ago

Text

imagine yandere beauty and the beast but you're the beast and the yandere is the beauty.

you're just trying to be isolated from the rest of the world, having first hand experienced how humans can be to species that aren't human. it hurts whenever they scream at your appearance, run away in fear as they pray for your death. it really did. especially when you were once human too.

so when a random pretty boy appeared on the doorstep of your manor, you instantly tried to chase him away. you didn't want to hear him screaming, nor did you want him to try killing you simply because you had the form of a beast. you had one too many experiences already.

what you didn't expect was for him to fall at your feet, begging for your hand in marriage. you were appalled, staring down at his smaller figure as he whines and begs for you to accept him as your husband.

there was no way, you thought.

how could he ever fall for someone like you? you were a monster who dwelled in your manor all alone for so many years!

you never expected him to cling to you incessantly. to do everything in his power to stay by your side, even if it meant being overwhelming with his declarations of love. he wanted you, all of you, even if you looked different from him. he didn't care, he really could care less.

and you couldn't do anything to stop him.

#yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere concept #yandere beauty and the beast #yandere beauty #yandere beauty x reader #gn reader #suiana rambling #suiana brainrotting

4K notes · View notes

lowkeyremi · 9 months ago

Text

JJK MEN AS DADS

How they are with their kiddos/babies ! ft. gojo, geto, choso, toji, and nanami

content: no curse!au fluff, established relationship (marriage), children, families.

Gojo Satoru

"Look at my little boy, he looks just like me, what a heart stopper you'll be when you get older!" He praises his two year old, Kenji Gojo.

"'Toru stop trying to manifest our son into a hoe." Satoru turns to you with a loud gasp, eyes wide, and it causes your little boy to giggle.

"How could you say such words, in front of him? Don't listen to Mommy. Daddy was never a player. Never ever!" Kenji has no clue what's happening he just laughs at his father's dramatics.

"Oh brother, I hope he doesn't turn into a drama queen like you. And yes you were a player before I got with you. Remember when you kissed my friend then like ten minutes later tried to kiss me?" Satoru was a menace in college. Every time you bring up that specific college memory he always says-

"Ugh, blame Suguru! He was the one who made me take shots when I didn't like to drink." There it is. That was excuse for two-timing you and your best friend back then.

"Save it for someone who believes you. Kenji, don't be like Daddy when you grow up, okay?" Your husband knows you're joking but he can't help but whine and feel like you're being against him.

"Otay Mommy! Daddy is hoeeee. Hoe hoe hoe. Merry Christmas!" Your poor little boy thinks he's saying the noise Santa makes instead of a derogatory term and it's hilarious.

Of course you encourage him, "Daddy's a what?"

"Hoe!" Kenji screams out with a smile on his face. Satoru frowns loosing his playfulness.

"I-i guess my family just hates me... no one loves me." He sighs loudly to sell it to you guys but you don't buy it. He sits in the corner pretending to cry. "Boo hoo..." Kenji waddles his way over to his father patting his head.

"No cry Daddy, you not a hoe. You Daddy." Satoru fakes a loud gasp when he hears his son comfort him, thinking Satoru is actually crying.

"Really?!" He asks the little boy standing next to him.

"Yeah, Daddy is cool!!" Satoru chuckles, picks up is little boy and tosses him into the air. The small white haired child screams in delight as his father catches him, and you can't deny that all the trouble you and Satoru had in your relationship was worth seeing this.

Geto Suguru

"And then, the monster ate the twin girls who didn't go to sleep at their bed time-"

"Ooooookay. I think that's enough bed time stories from Papa." You say ushering your girls to bed, Hana looks scared out of her mind but Kana's eyes are sparkling with curiosity.

"Awww, Mommy, it was just getting good!" Kana whines, you know she wants to hear whatever else Suguru makes up on spot but he scared Hana who looks like she wants to cry.

"I know sweetie, but I don't think Hana really liked that story." The girls are six and full of energy at any given time.

"Come on baby, let me tell Kana the rest." Suguru matches his daughter's tone, knowing you'll give in.

"Alright, fine, but you need to apologize to Hana, look at her." Your husband looks at his younger twin daughter and he does feel kind of bad for scaring her like that. Suguru likes telling scary stories and myths to his girls just like his father had done to him. He always thought they were super cool.

"Oh, Hana, sweet girl. Papa's sorry. I didn't mean to scare you like that. How about I tell you and your sister a different story?" Hana looks a little doubtful as do you, but Suguru grants you a smile. He knows you trust him so you give him a stern look before kissing his forehead.

"Don't take too long, I need my cuddles." He smirks, kissing your hand, "Of course my dear."

The twins coo in unison at their parents romantic gestures, they think it's the coolest thing ever. "You girls have your stuffed animals?" He asks them and they nod together waiting for his story.

He tells the two about a princess who needed saving. Her long lost sister came to save her from a scary dragon and they lived happily together.

"That sounds like me and Hana!! I fought the scary dragon and Hana was the princess!!!" Kana says with excitement. Sometimes Suguru sees two little girls he used to foster in his own girls. He wonders how they're doing these days. They're probably grown up by now or at least in their late teens.

"I really wish Mommy had let me name you guys Nanako and Mimiko." He whispers with a soft smile. Kana looks at him in confusion rubbing her tired eyes, Hana's already asleep.

"Huh?" Kana asks.

"Nothing my dear, good night, little one." He tucks her into bed and gives her a tend kiss on the forehead.

"Night night, Papa." She says with a yawn and Suguru makes his way downstairs to join you.

Kamo Choso

Choso bites his lip looking down at his son, the boy looks a lot like you he thinks. Ryuji is his name, you let him name him. "I didn't mean to break it." He whines to his father. Choso has a soft spot for his boy. He reminds him a lot of his little brother Yuji.

"I know bud, but what will we tell Mom when she gets home?" Ryuji had accidentally broken your favorite ceramic mug. Choso was not sure what he signed up for when he got you pregnant but it sure wasn't this.

He and his son were always getting scolded by you. Every time Ryuji gets into some kind of trouble it also happens to be Choso's fault for not watching him closely as you always say. The truth is, Ryuji seems to get into trouble even with his father watching him closely.

"Um... we can tell her it was at the edge of the counter and i walked past it and it fell down. Then it will be her fault for leaving it by the edge." Choso smiles at his devious ten year old. He knows lying is bad but if you heard what really happened you'd scold both of them.

What actually happened as that Ryuji was playing in the kitchen, even though you've warned him against it many times and he knocked your mug down onto the ground.

"Good idea, kid. I don't want to hear Mom yelling again. I might get couch treatment again." Choso shivers at the idea of sleeping on the cramped couch rather than in his warm bed with you.

"You remind me a lot of your Uncle Yuji." Choso says ruffling his son's hair. "You and Mom keep saying that and I don't know if that's good or bad."

"It depends. Yuji can be both." Choso chuckles. His son gives him a crushing hug.

"I love you dad, you're doing great." And Choso didn't know how much he needed to hear those words but they were getting to him.

Fushiguro Toji

"Quit kicking your Ma, ya little brat." He threatens your swelling belly. He gives you a questioning look when you glare at him. Those emerald eyes challenge yours in a staring contest.

"What is with you and threatening our unborn children?" Your question is followed by a giggle.

"Gotta let the brats know who's in charge." He blows out a breath and puffs his chest, you find the whole ordeal ridiculous. The man is a girl dad for crying out loud. Even his oldest, your step-son thinks his father is a clown. And before Tsumiki died there were three daughters in his life.

He thinks your third one is bound to be a boy, but you're secretly hoping for a girl just to further sink Toji's idea of having a little boy to boss around. Megumi comes around maybe twice a month to see his little half-sisters, which means Toji is surrounded by girls all the time.

You like to joke around with him and say, "What do you know? Girls seem to follow you wherever you go." He always grumbles about it being stupid and unfair.

"As I was saying-"

"DAD!!!!! MY HAIR OH NOOOOOOO." Toji's up off the couch in seconds answering at his daughter's beck and call.

He walks into her room to see her braid was messed up. "What happened, Doll?" He asks her, undoing the braid so he can redo it.

"Yui undid my braid!! She took my hair tie and ran to her room!!!" She squeals, in horror at her little sister's thieving.

"Oh did she now? I'll go have a talk with her once I braid this back up." He's gentle with his tender-headed daughter. He quickly braids her hair back up, the pattern memorized. 100% self indulgent bc im tender headed.

"I have this green hair tie, is that okay, sweet girl?" She sighs quietly. "Where are the blue ones?" Toji clicks his tongue. "I can go get one real quick if you hold the end of this braid." He tells her and she's quick to do it. Her favorite color is blue after all.

She cheers when her father returns with a blue hair tie. He ties it up quickly, "Okay let me go talk to Yui." Nami nods brushing out her baby doll's hair.

Toji makes an appearance in front of his four year old's door, she's making her dolls scream at each other. "What was da reason?!!!!" She screams pretending to be one of the dolls, "I had a reason." She makes the other say.

Toji rolls his eyes, his daughter has been watching too much TV with you. "Excuse me miss Cardi B, why did you steal your sister's hair tie?" His hands are on his hips and his eyes are squinted to add to his authority.

"Whattttt, Dad, you know dat?" She asks as if her dad lives under a rock.

"Tch I'm not old, I know what memes are. Now answer the question." She rolls her eyes. You tell Toji she gets her attitude from him.

"If you haf to know I needed it, so I could give Sprinkles a ponytail." Sprinkles is the dog Toji said he was NOT going to get for his girls but caved in and got anyway.

"Ya coulda asked me or your Ma for one rather than stealing it right from your sister's hair." She shakes her head in disagreement. Toji wonders what's going on in her head right now.

"Dad you don't get it! It had to be that one!"

"Why that specific hair tie?" She goes silent turning away from her father and mumbling something Toji can barely hear.

"Speak up, princess." She scoffs and sighs and folds her arms. Wow the sass is unreal.

"Sprinkle thinks Nami is super cool so she wants what Nami has." Toji isn't stupid he knows his daughter is using the dog as a place holder for how she admires her older sister. Yui doesn't like to admit it though.

"Are you sure it's Sprinkle who thinks Nami is super cool?" He gives her the chance to be open with him and she sighs taking the bait.

"I guess. I think Nami is super cool." She murmurs and Toji smirks.

"It's alright to think your sis is cool, Dad didn't get to grow up with any cool siblings. Just annoying cousins."

"Mai and Maki are cooler than you, Dad, not annoying!" The man in question raises his brow his smirk never leaving, "Okay since I'm not cool. I guess I won't take you out for treats anymore when Ma says no."

Little Yui gasps, bursting upward like a rocket and running toward her dad. She hugs his leg, her little head looking up at him, "I was kidding Dad. You're super cool. Please don't stop taking me for treats!!"

Toji smiles, picks up his little girl and tickles her. She screams out for him to stop, "Huh? I can't hear what you're saying."

"Nami help!!!!"

In seconds Nami's attacking her father in a playful manner, "Let go of my sister!!"

"Okay then." Toji holds his daughter upside down by her feet, as she screams some more. "MA!!! HELPPP!!!!"

"Toji put her down." You say in a half-hearted manner.

"She is down. Upside down."

Nanami Kento

"See, you're getting the hang of it, Hiro." Kento softly encourages his son who's struggling with his math homework. You had tried to help him but he screamed that what you were saying didn't make sense. So of course you yelled back, letting your emotions get the better of you.

Kento had stepped in to keep you two from ripping each other's heads off. Plus all that screaming had woken up the baby. You could hear her crying.

That was about an hour ago. You quietly walked into the dining room with your seven month old baby girl cuddled up to your chest as you held her tight.

The sight of your husband helping your son warmed your heart, but you also felt guilt hot in your stomach for yelling at him, he's only twelve.

"Hey, Hiro. Can I talk to you, hon?" You ask softly. Both your son and Kento turn their heads upon hearing your voice. He nods at you and you inhale deeply, "I'm sorry for yelling at you, bud, I didn't mean it."

His eyes soften as do Kento's.

"I'm sorry too, Mom. I started it. You were just trying to help me." Kento's smile encourages you to walk closer to the table which you do.

"We should have had Dad come help in the first place, huh? I'm not good at explaining." Hiro shares a laugh with you, and Kento cups your cheek.

"Explanations might not be your strong suit but you're still a good mother, baby." Hiro gags at his father calling you "baby" he hate when you two get sappy.

You move your head a little so you can kiss his palm. As expected Hiro covers his eyes and making more throwing up noises.

"Oh hush, one day you'll find someone for you, and you'll be just like me and your mother." Kento says rolling his eyes and you giggle. Even though you guys have your differences you guys always forgive each other at the end of the day.

Your little girl coos quietly and Kento holds out his arms gesturing for his little girl.

"She's just had dinner, so she might fall asleep on you." Your warning doesn't bother him at all, if anything, you'll probably have more pictures to add to your baby gallery on your phone if she falls asleep in his arms.

She's already a dad's girl and she's only seven months old. You thought maybe Hiro would be a mama's boy but he's definitely his daddy's son.

You don't mind though, well, sometimes you're a little jealous that you have to share your man with your kids. Kento's a very lovable man though, so you can't blame them.

#jjk #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk as dads #jjk!dads #jujutsu kaisen as dads #dad!au #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #choso x reader #choso kamo x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader

7K notes · View notes