#anyway. i WILL be using this for evil (fanfiction)
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suegodvester · 6 months ago
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One drink and straight to bed, he vowed to himself.
“A water?” The barman scoffed. “The poor man’s choice, I see.”
Wally chuckled. “The choice of a man who just got here from a trip longer than you can imagine. D’ya got any rooms free up in this place or?”
The barman’s face softened, and he laughed as he went to grab a glass of water. Returning, he leaned in as he handed Wally his drinks. “We do, but tell me, have you ever been here before?”
A blush rose up his cheeks as Wally shook his head. “To be perfectly honest, I’m not even sure where ‘here’ is,” he laughed awkwardly. He suddenly felt very looked at.
“Curious.” The man pulled back, then nodded to himself. “Gotham usually doesn’t show herself to people who haven’t been here before, well, unless she has plans for you. Or so they say.”
“Gotham?” Wally blurted out, eyes widened in shock. “I can’t believe I’m actually here.” He laughed, not because he was happy, but he couldn’t help himself from laughing at his own stupidity. Of course, with all the weirdness going on around here, how didn’t he realize this sooner?
He did it. He found the no-man’s-land that was particularly starting to look like an any-man’s-land to him. The place he had been looking for all along.
“You know, there’s some rumors about-” The bartender started, then stopped dead in his sentence and looked up behind Wally. Right then, Wally felt two, strong hands clasp onto his shoulders.
“You’re in my seat.” A deep, bouldering voice said, the two goons behind him snickering loudly.
Wally looked around him and noticed the two chairs besides him had indeed come up empty. Still, he shrugged and tipped his drink back. “And I was having a really good conversation.” He shot back, not getting off the chair. “Please, do continue.”
He heard a couple “Ooh”’s and “Shit”’s and snickers behind him as the saloon fell silent. All eyes fell on him, or well, them, as Wally shrugged the hands off his shoulders and leaned forward.
“Funny, kid.” The man all but growled. The bottle in his hand -some dirt cheap brand of beer, Wally guessed- came into his view as Wally skillfully -although accidentally- dodged the bottle when he turned the bar chair around. The glass made a painful shattering noise as it came into contact with the edge of the bar, sending shards everywhere.
His attacker staggered back, the intoxication visible in how he tripped rather gracefully against one of his back-up buddies. Immediately, everyone at the bar shot up from their seats and started screaming. Some people saw this as the perfect time to throw some punches around, and Wally winced as he heard the rough sound of a cracking bone right next to him.
It all happened in the blink of an eye, the way this bar fight came to be, but now everyone was in on it. Everyone, except for Wally. Shit, had he really just started this? He frantically looked around, hoping to spot a way out of this mess he had so swiftly created. Hells, he hadn’t even been here for over ten minutes and he already-
A hand slipped around his wrist, and the strong grip pulled him out of his thoughts as fast as he was pulled out of the saloon. When the cold night’s air pushed his hair out of his eyes, his mind cleared. Loud screams and thuds against the walls and floors, although a bit more muted now, made him look at one of the windows.
What just happened?
“You’re really quite something, y’know?” An amused, cocky voice startled him fully away from whatever was happening inside the saloon now, and he traced his eyes to the figure in front of him.
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recycledraccoon · 1 year ago
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I think my thoughts on the penultimate episode can be summoned up as disappointment over a potential we didn't get to see, and why that's ok. (This got long, 1.4k oops lol)
Am I a fan of The Rat Grinders? ABSOLUTELY. I think I started liking them even more when they were full-on confirmed villains. As fan's of the edited show, watching with a week between each episode to theorize and think, I loved seeing and theorizing over these 6 fucked up kids. We know Kipperlily prior to the second half of sophomore year, while she obviously still had her anger and jealousy over TBK's it wasn't ENTIRELY unjustified and completely out of control (although some aspects were utterly and absolutely unfounded and ridiculous). Jawbones file mentions her language being "I think Aguefort likes them more", "The school takes it easy on them", and "Half of them don't even go to classes." All of these are true things people in this world would notice. It's not until AFTER their Mountain of Chaos chaperoned trip, at the end of the year, that KLCK switches to "I hate them." The Bad Kids further briefly discuss if Jace would have asked Jawbone/looked for "students with rage disorders." I think specifically mention it being a disorder is important. Acknowledging its there, KLCK WAS trying to get help for an issue she had. They didn't talk to Jawbone about it, but did decide Jace must have given he went on that quest with TRG's. They further briefly talk about students getting randomly mad, and yes they specifically joked about Fabian shitting in class, but WE also remember the Soil club student getting so mad after having gotten that tainted soil. With the 30 Riz rolled, Jawbone's file ALSO specifically talks about Kipperlily loving her adventuring party. We know things weren't perfect, its obvious from when talking about their name change, but its still there and canon. Kipperlily loved her adventuring party. This is all just Kipperlily, mostly with our information from the first part of ep.16. It is not touching on the rest of the members, especially Ruben and his dreamscape we saw, or of his distinct 180 musical tastes POST Sophomore Year Spring Break. The implications of something happening to them during that time is pretty evident and acknowledged. So we're fans, watching a show, spending so much time thinking about not only our infamous protagonists, but also our villains. Many of us adults, getting older, thinking on the tragedy befalling kids and feeling empathy. So yeah. It's a disappointment over an unseen potential. Specifically tho? Its the potential we could have gotten on The Rat Grinder's thoughts and motivations that could have been revealed through dialogue. Dialogue that we got very little of in what could be considered a significant exchange of dialogue and not bits. I always have high narrative expectations from this show, due to its long standing history of SETTING those standards each and every season. This one episode just fell short emotionally while watching, comparatively.
AND THAT'S OK AND ABSOLUTELY NOT THE BAD KIDS/INTREPID HEROES FAULT
On the narrative side of things, The Bad Kids have had an incredibly stressful past 3 years. From day one, they have been involved in life or death stakes situations. It's always been do or die, and they've died, sometimes more than once. They've lost people and faced traumas that go often unaddressed. TBK's ENTIRE highschool experiences have been a revolving door of violence and unhinged situations. They've also always kinda been assholes, insular and more than a little mean especially to those pegged as enemies. We know them, know they have good hearts and intentions, and love and side with them constantly throughout because The Bad Kid's are our heroes. They are still teenage assholes sometimes, but that is something we love and forgive them for. The thing about this recent battle is that they are very used to the situation they are in by now. TBK's have to prioritize, move fast and hard, and get a job done so countless people don't die while something evil rises in their world. Emotions have been high for them all season, rage especially which is absolutely unsurprising on multiple fronts, and it's absolutely showing in what few dialogue exchanges we have. The Bad Kid's entered that gym for the singular purpose of stopping the situation, saving lives, and making sure something evil didn't arise to power in their fucked up world. Nothing new. They hid, already knowing where the final confrontation was going to be FORCED to happen in due to the nature of the ritual, and prepped. On point and smart of them. Then they entered the battlefield, very quickly getting to business. They know their skills, their friends and how to work together as a devastatingly effective team making heavy hits and masterfully controlling a battlefield despite the chaos. This is what The Bad Kid's Do. They got Ivy and Oisin out of combat as fast as possible, Oisin didn't even get a turn. They took out a high-damage long range attacker and the enemy wizard. They know how powerful and important Adaine is on the field, and they knew Oisin would have been the same. They crippled the enemy with the slow spell, effectively taking Mary Ann out of the running until it gets dispelled later on. Fig saw Ruben's high damage level 9 spell and dropped her ploy to get him out of combat as soon as she could. It was too dangerous to have him up, and while the hell bit was uncomfortable in the moment, it is absolutely on brand. This is what they have to do, if they want to stop Porter, who is our real main big-bad. Remove as many obstacles from the battle so more of them can focus on the fight that really matters.
This combat wasn't ever gonna go any other way, unless the dice gods decided otherwise.
This is what The Bad Kid's Do. In regards to the IH's, it is VERY important to acknowledge that while I've mentioned having high narrative expectations, this is still primarily an improve comedy show around a group of real people's DnD game. It's also a show they have a tight filming schedule for, with back to back days and long hours which we KNOW from the talk-backs leave them very tired. Like any tv show they also have a limit on how many episodes per season they can even produce. I think it was a real and genuine benefit to Sophomore year that they were doing it live, because it gave more time between sessions for the IH's to mull over information and whats been happening in-game. This is also a very well developed campaign world they haven't played in several years, which I certainly know would effect me in how I played. We still have one more episode, the Finale, and so much always happens there. I have incredible faith in Brennan as a DM and storyteller, for all that his players have a huge say in how any story he tells unfolds. There is a VERY real chance that what happens in the finale completely changes my mind on episode 19, and I will go back to rewatch with absolute glee because I know of the coming emotional catharsis in relation to The Rat Grinders. There is also a very real chance we don't get that in the way we want it, but that will be ok too. I will still love this season, rewatch it and laugh and have fun. The best part of having a fandom, is watching us take canon apart to fuel endless au's, fix-it's, character studies, ect. Taking crumbs and going wild with it is par the course, especially when something in a show has left us wanting in the moment of watching it. I think more than anything, I would be and am more upset from infighting and genuine anger directed to each other and especially towards our Intrepid Heroes. It is not wrong to be upset with an episode of a show, but it is to take those feelings out on others, be in in defense from Rat Grinder's fans or justification from Rat Grinder haters. So yes! I was disappointed with this particular episode emotionally. I still think it was funny, I think the combat was brilliant and fun to watch. I still love this show and this cast, and could never dream of being mad at them for how they played a game, and for the fun they were finding within the act of playing it as the well-known unhinged improv comedians we know and love.
I'm excited for next week, buuut I am absolutely consuming fan-content to help deal with my emotions, both the highs and lows.
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awesomebutunpractical · 6 months ago
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One of these days I will watch all of Transformers G1 in a confused haze.
#I'm almost positive I've seen most of it#I don't think I actually watched the episode where Seaspray falls in love with a mermaid#and he turns into a merman but he still has his gimmicky bubbly robot voice the whole time#but I feel like I know the important parts#oh and there's the episode where Red Alert is infected with a paranoia virus and the fanfiction decided that was his entire personality#and the one person he decided to trust was Starscream and anyone who knows anything about#Transformers#knows this was a bad move#and then there's the episode where they make a remote controlled Optimus Prime and have it blow up a remote controlled Starscream to#make sure the Autobots trust him and then I think they have the fake Optimus race the real Optimus to figure out which is which#And then there's the episode where Starscream and Megatron sneak into the Autobot base with their invisibility spray to turn the Autobots#evil and I think that's the episode where Optimus gives Bumblebee a hug that was nice#and there's my personal favorite which has everyone travel to the middle ages and Starscream takes over a castle and it turns out dragons#are a thing#Oh and then there's the one where Optimus gets blown to pieces and his parts are used as turrets and stuff and the Autobots have to fight#through it all to gather it up and rebuild him and I think they fought an alligator but I might be making that up#There's also the one where the Decepticons convince the humans that the Autobots have been the true evil all along and that they should#be shot into space and the Autobots go along with it because they respect human laws#And there's the one where... I can't actually remember the name#anyway he wanted to build something really cool and Optimus thought it could be used for evil and said no :(#but the Decepticons said they'd help him and then shockingly tried to use it for evil
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hideyseek · 1 year ago
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11 & 23 for the ask game!
thanks for the ask!!
from the love your fandom asks!
11. if you're a writer or artist, what fic or piece of art are you proud of making?
omg, writer, and yes, most things i write i'm decently proud of at the end (or i wouldn't post them). but i was just looking back over the fic i cross-posted from my fanfiction.net account. and at one point, i rewrote the lyrics of "black velvet band" to be about the life of the gruff mentor guy from ranger's apprentice, wrapped some fic around it, and posted that as my brother. i have a distinct memory of sitting at the coffee table at my grandma's house working lyrics out on a notepad, ahaha. anyway. some pretty great turns of phrase in those lyrics from tween!hidey that i'm kind of shocked to find still hold up.
(at the time i was simultaneously reading a ton of ranger's apprentice and listening to a bunch of irish folk songs from a cd my parents got from the farmer's market that i was obsessed with.)
23. the fandom you're curious about because of a mutual
well i think i simply must say bucchigiri?! thanks to crab and ki, i don't know what's happening over there but y'all seem to be having a great time, or mayb my condolences. that blue-haired glasses guy ... he intrigues me. though, i did receive a very impassioned description of tgcf from rnack earlier this week that is a close second.
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Ok ok.
I love World’s Finest as much as the next person (the Flash crossover in Supergirl season 1)
Buttttttt
Barry ran. To Earth 38. 52 accessible multiverses. and he happened upon the one with a fellow hero.
See if it were Earth 2 that would make sense, it’s the closest one ( also I think that would make for an interesting AU because he would be completely alone on Earth 2, no Cisco and no Harry. And if Zoom could sense him (like he was able to sense Cisco’s breach) then he would basically be on the run literally the whole time (my whump gremlin brain wants to keep going with whumpy ideas but I’ll stop for now) ). But Earth 38. No.
So since he seemed to be able to travel to any of the 52 Earths (in theory)— you know what my gremlin brain thought?
What if he went to Earth X
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slayerdurge · 2 years ago
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WIP WEDNESDAY ON A THURSDAY
Tagged by @luvwich to share a work in progress! (Thank you so much!)
I decided to share the very first bit of Beyond the Event Horizon - this is my big one. The one I’m currently actively working on, Before the Event Horizon, is in many ways just set up for Beyond - which is my post-ending large-scope fic.
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CHAPTER ONE: IT’S THE END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT (AND I FEEL FINE)
When she awoke, the first thing she felt was a surge of power. Electricity flowed out from the center of her head. As it reached her limbs, she gained motor function. She tried moving - flexing the fingers on her right hand and then balling them up into a fist. Her grip was strong, steady. Her optics lit up and displayed the first image she would see through her new eyes - the Arasaka logo. 
As the image switched to a loading screen, her other senses came online. They were sharp. She could hear the sounds closest to her – a rhythmic beeping of some sort, someone breathing -  but she could also hear sounds that seemed to be coming from several miles above her. Footsteps in a hall, muffled conversations. If she focused, she could isolate individual voices. 
“…waking her up as we speak.”
“If this fails, if she’s not good enough-“
“It won’t fail.”
“But if it does, we’re screwed. End of the world. Game over.”
“Not an option.”
The loading screen vanished, and she saw the world for the first time. She was lying on her side in a hospital bed. A cable ran out from the access point in her head. 
“So the Devil kept his side of the bargain after all…” said a voice in her head. No, not a voice. Her voice. 
“There. Metacognitive processes are fully active,” a different voice said. “She’s self-aware. You should be able to speak to her now.”
“Hello, V,” said Goro Takemura as he stepped into her field of vision. He looked well. The polished, conservative look of an Arasaka employee had always suited him like a second skin.
“Goro?” she replied. She��d expected that her voice would sound hoarse, but it was clear and strong. “What’s happening? Am I… alive?” 
“Yes, V. You are.” He reached behind her head and unplugged the cable. 
“What happened?” The memories had flooded back, but there was much she couldn’t make sense of. “I was in Mikoshi… I was waiting, and then… they told me they had to put me to sleep for a while, to protect me…” 
“V,” Goro interrupted. “It is a long story. We will have time for it later.”
“Later. Right.” She sat up. It wasn’t difficult. Her body moved gracefully. It responded to her commands without delay. Despite all her training and all her cyberware in her former life, she’d never felt more in control. She looked up at Goro and smiled. “It’s good to see you again.”
He nodded at her. “You as well, V. How do you feel?”
“I feel good,” she said. She bent her neck to one side, then the other. “I feel great, actually.” She jumped up off the hospital bed and stood next to Goro. She held her arms out in front of her and flexed her fingers, grinning at him again. “Arasaka really outdid themselves this time, huh?”
“Yes. Well, I am glad you think so.” Goro said, then paused.
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Ahhh... I am so looking forward to being able to post that in earnest, although I’m not about the rush my current one just to do so.
Tagging @just-a-cybercroissant, @bnbc, @kirschewine and @gamerkitten to share some wips if you are comfortable with that.
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homestuckicle · 2 years ago
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Me and the 10 homestuck aus that circle around in my head at any one time
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Current mood
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hinotorihime · 7 months ago
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so i'm learning about the fach system of dividing vocal roles in opera and i think i have a general handle on how it works? feel free to correct me, and i know there is a lot of extra nuance to this, but my understanding so far is that:
-obviously you first break the roles down by the expected range: soprano/mezzo/contralto/tenor/baritone/bass. the range isn't just "what notes can you hit", it's "what notes can you reliably hit and sustain loudly enough to be heard over full orchestra"
-then there seem to be three general divisions of the range. obviously there are extra subcategories going on but overall my impression is—
lyric roles are sort of the bog-standard default, they focus on being smooth and maybe a bit brighter or even younger-sounding than dramatic roles
2. dramatic roles tend to work more in the lower half of the range, and the focus is on power—they're loud, and very rich, and typically sound more mature
3. coloratura roles tend to work more in the higher half of the range, and the focus is on agility—these roles have a lot of movement, plenty of runs and jumps, so the voice needs to be flexible. there is such a thing as dramatic coloratura soprano, god help them
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100vern · 8 months ago
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hi. i would like to request seungcheol (obviously). all i request is enemies-to-lovers. you may do with this what you wish. i leave it up to you to decide exactly how you will ruin my life 😌
tysm for the request my beloved !! he is so enemies to lovers coded i had TEWWW many thoughts (and started three separate wips oops), but here we are. i hope u enjoy this !! can't wait to get the collab fics out of the way so i can torture u further with baseball dk. i picked dodgers hat!cheol just for u. ♡
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— we need to talk
pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader summary: sometimes the only way to win the game is to not play, but sometimes it's not a game at all—sometimes it's four years of emotional build-up with nowhere left to hide. genre: enemies (kinda) w benefits to lovers; frat/university au; smut, angst?, fluff rating: explicit. minors do not interact with this or any of my work. warnings: frat boys. gendered language and insults. swearing. mentions of drugs & drug use (vernon is literally a drug dealer 🤷🏻‍♀️) as well as alcohol. possessive, jealous seungcheol who is extremely down bad and kind of an asshole and would be toxic af irl but is fine in fanfiction probably. this is maybe more "people who used to fuck and started disliking each other along the way bc they can't figure out their feelings" to lovers than enemies. there are very slight, very meaningless mingyu x reader undertones here. jeonghan is a bastard. feelings you think are unrequited but alas! this got softer than i intended oops. smut warnings: seungcheol truly is a man driven to the brink of madness bc of pussy idk what to say. kissing. hair pulling. mentions of masturbation. the dynamics shift in this one a lot, but to be overly cautious i will say dom!cheol and slightly dom!reader undertones that are not implicitly stated or defined. seungcheol uses the term "whore" once, sorry. oral sex (f. receiving). pussy slapping. unprotected sex. if i missed any pls lmk. wordcount: 8k. no i do not know what a drabble is, leave me alone. author's note: title from the song of the same name by waterparks but this was actually brought to you by "i'll never stop" by nsync bc it's their best song and fit the vibes perfectly. anyway, i still do not love writing smut but i am insane over this man so whatever, we persevere. everyone go shower mj in lots of love bc she's the best and deserves it. also everyone say thank u @the-boy-meets-evil for looking over this for me. i did not look at this again after she beta'd it so any mistakes are of my own stupidity. <3
Seungcheol is incensed.
What in the fuck are you thinking, showing up here? Ignoring him, walking by him with nothing more than a brush to the elbow and that sultry, electric gaze? A pair of painted-on jeans and a sheer top?
Who the fuck had invited you?
He looks around the room, gaze heavy under his furrowed brow. Bass thumps in his ears, the music so loud he can feel it in his chest. Still, his feet stay planted on the floor, already sticky with spilled alcohol and god knows what else. He needs to find Vernon—just needs something to get through this very unexpected (and very unpleasant) surprise, take the edge off.
But he can’t see through the sea of people. They’re everywhere, occupying every inch of available space in the house, but he just needs a glimpse of that mop of cornflower blue hair. If he could just—
Instead, he sees a streak of white-blond in his peripheral vision. “Soonyoung!” he calls, grabbing the man by the arm. “Hey, have you seen Vernon?”
Soonyoung stares up at him with glassy, bloodshot eyes, his breath already stinking of alcohol as he shrugs and says, “Dunno, hyung. Think he’s upstairs.”
Fingers still wrapped around his bicep, Seungcheol heaves a sigh. “Go find Jeonghan. He’s on babysitting duty and you’re already fucked.”
“I’m fine,” Soonyoung argues, slurred words giving him away immediately.
Seungcheol scoffs. “Bro, you can barely stand and you reek of shitty vodka. Go drink some water.”
As he sends Soonyoung away, he can feel eyes boring into him, tension wound tight in the center of his back that refuses to dissipate no matter how many times he rolls his shoulders. He turns slowly, already knowing exactly what he’ll find, but knowing does little to stop the hitch of breath as he takes you in.
And he hates it. Fuck, he hates the effect you have on him more than anything.
Hates that he’s still pining after you. Hates that all you have to do is look at him and he’s putty in your hands. Hates that you’re the first person he looks for in a room, the last person on his mind before he falls asleep. Hates you, hates that all of this is unreciprocated, because if Choi Seungcheol is anything, it’s proud. He’s rich, he’s good-looking, he’s pre-law, and the president of this fraternity, for fuck’s sake—he should not be hung up on a girl.
But he’d been doomed from the beginning. Ever since you’d been assigned to him as a challenge to overcome, an impossible task to conquer, he’d been helplessly, pathetically smitten with you.
And fuck if you didn’t know it, too.
So, it’s a game now. A lifetime’s worth of pining for Seungcheol all because his frat was misogynistic and refused to keep up with the times. They’d nodded in your direction and laughed at the confusion on his face, the knot between his brows. Seungcheol couldn’t figure out why his initiation was to fuck a girl, one his brothers wouldn’t even address by name, but when he’d approached you at a party and you’d immediately told him to go fuck himself, he’d figured it out pretty quick.
Call it determination, call it a stubborn streak that refused to quit, but the two of you soon came to a reluctant agreement: you would let Seungcheol lie to his frat, figuring he was attractive enough that people thinking you’d slept together wouldn’t be complete social suicide, and he’d owe you a favor you’d keep in your back pocket for as long as it took to cash in.
Which hadn’t taken long. The stress of finals that first year had gotten to all of you, and it wasn’t long before you were at his door looking for his drug-dealing roommate and a quick fuck.
That was the second time Seungcheol had been doomed to hopeless pining, because once he had you, he knew it’d be impossible to let you go.
Short of outright saying the words, he’d all but told you as much during some alcohol-induced brain shortage junior year. And, in turn, you’d all but laughed in his face.
Right.
Of course.
That was to be expected.
So, you’d continued your… well, whatever this is: quick fucks when both of you were bored or lonely or horny, usually under the influence of something illegal; a mutually tense but beneficial relationship for each of you, because you had been Seungcheol’s initiation and the initiation itself awarded him connections and opportunities. You got a back-up plan. A safe body and warm bed to retreat to when the need arose—one who clearly wanted it to be something more, but was, all things considered, fine with the current arrangement. Didn’t pressure you.
But, as was also to be expected, it was never going to be that simple when feelings got involved. When he started feeling slighted. When he wanted you so bad he ached with it sometimes and it was beneath you to care. Which is why he really, really needs to find Vernon. If he’s going to endure an entire party with you, he’s not going to do it sober.
He takes the steps two at a time, feet stumbling onto the landing as soon as he reaches it. Vernon’s door is the third on the left, and he can hear a separate, distinct bass line from the one booming downstairs that hums louder the closer he gets.
And Vernon knows. Of course he does, because he’s yanking his door open before Seungcheol has even raised a hand to knock, the stench of weed seeping out into the hallway, and all he needs is a quick look at Seungcheol before he pulls the door open wider and says, “Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States of America,” as if he’s speaking into a microphone. When Seungcheol doesn’t react, he awkwardly tacks on, “Hi, hyung. I’m assuming she’s here.”
Seungcheol nods, dumbly, and stands as awkwardly in the center of the room as someone who’s about to ask their roommate for drugs tends to be. “Yeah.” Shoves his hands in the pockets of his overpriced jeans so Vernon can’t see the sheen of sweat.
“You looking for somethin’ specific?” he asks, rifling through the top drawer of a tall dresser. “Like, is this an I’m about to fuck her the rest of the night visit or an I need something to help me forget she doesn’t actually like me visit?”
The words come like a reflex. “Fuck you,” he seethes. Vernon’s not wrong, per se, but he didn’t have to go and just… say it like that.
Vernon just shrugs, one side of his worn-out collar slipping down his shoulder as he does so, and Seungcheol can’t tell if he’s actually dressed for the party or not. “Gonna guess it’s the second one, then.”
Seungcheol scoffs. “Well, it’s not,” he insists, knowing damn well he should let it go, that he’s just digging himself a bigger hole, but the truth sits in the pit of his stomach like lead.
And, really, he knows he just needs to accept it. That little strand of hope hasn’t brought him anything but more pain—allowed him to delude himself into thinking it could be something more, something tangible—and it’s time to let it go.
You don’t want more.
You don’t want the label and the relationship.
You don’t want him.
He knows this, but it still tastes sour in his mouth. Still tastes like the chill of autumn when you’d first showed up at his door all that time ago. Tastes like all the blunts you’ve shared and the liquor from all the parties you’d snuck away in the middle of. Tastes like the sharp notes of your perfume, the ones that’d coat his tongue when he’d kiss down your neck—the same notes that stain his bedsheets.
Mostly, it’s the pitying look Vernon’s giving him that hurts the most. He’s above pity. Doesn’t need it, especially not from Vernon Chwe, but it hurts all the same to be on the receiving end of it.
“Give me whatever you’ve got.”
Vernon’s face quickly morphs into surprised concern. “Uh, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I mean, I’ve got some pretty heavy shit here.”
Heat flares in his belly. The pity was bad enough—now he wants to be patronizing? “Then give me whatever the fuck you think I need,” he snaps. “I don’t care. I don’t have time for this shit.”
“Well, you definitely need to chill,” Vernon mumbles. “You want some dabs?”
“No. Something…” The word feels thick in his mouth. Stronger implies that Seungcheol does heavy drugs, and that’s not true. “Else,” he finally finishes.
Vernon sighs as he continues rifling through the drawer. “Your dad would fucking kill me if I gave you my real heavy shit, so…” He pauses, eyebrows raising in triumph as he finds what he was looking for: a small baggie filled halfway with some nondescript powder. “You want a bump?”
Maybe he should be ashamed at how quickly he agrees, at the urgency and greed with which he grabs the baggie from Vernon’s fingers, but he just needs something. Needs the distraction, the brain fog. He shoves it in his back pocket next to his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”
Vernon wrinkles his nose. “Nah. Consider that one a freebie. No offense, but you’re a real piece of shit when you’re like this.”
The implication only pisses him off more. Seungcheol is loaded—he can afford to pay his drug dealer, thank you very much—but he’s not like anything. “I’m sorry?”
True to his nature, Vernon barely shrugs. “I’ll put it on your tab, hyung,” he says in a way that implies he’s not at all going to do that and is only saying so to get the fraternity president off his back.
Jeonghan (23:12) Better come get your girl. Kim Mingyu’s dick looks like it’s halfway up her ass by now. Jeonghan (23:12) Uh oh! I think I just saw a testicle
Seungcheol stares down at his phone, hands trembling in anger. Of course it’s Mingyu. That pathetic loser has been taking up residence on the subs bench ever since you’d made out with him months ago in an admittedly successful attempt at payback. Seungcheol had hooked up with some downgrade at a party one time and you’d gone and made out with his friend. It was hardly a fair trade.
Seungcheol (23:14) Good for Mingyu, he can deal with her then Seungcheol (23:14) I’m busy Jeonghan (23:14) Doing what? Jerking off in the upstairs bathroom again? Jeonghan (23:15) Do you know what size condom he wears btw? Looks like I might need to fetch him one if you don’t want to take care of another man’s baby Jeonghan (23:16) Although, to be fair, you might want to sit this one out. He has way better bone structure than you. Might be a blessing in disguise Seungcheol (23:16) Fuck you Jeonghan (23:16) Better be nice to me, Choi Seungcheolie~ that might be the only fuck you get tonight
Seungcheol needs better friends. He needs a lot of things, really, but number one on his to-do list is to never let Jeonghan be on babysitting duty ever again. Somehow he’d forgotten how obnoxious Yoon Jeonghan is when he isn’t stoned and half-asleep on a couch somewhere.
For now, he just stomps down the hallway; locks himself in his room and doesn’t bother to turn on the light. He’s not going to be here long. Just enough time to do this line, change his t-shirt, and come up with a game plan, because he’s not going to let Mingyu even entertain the thought of being able to have you but he also can’t appear desperate. Not just to you, but to everyone else. Choi Seungcheol is not clingy, especially not over a girl.
Especially especially over a girl who doesn’t even want him like that.
But the longer he sits in the dark, the more trouble he has finding his resolve. Can’t bring himself to dig that baggie out of his pocket. Can’t drag his t-shirt over his head. Can’t bring himself to think about anything other than Mingyu’s hands all over you, and fuck, does that image drive him insane.
Does he touch you like Seungcheol does?
Does he coax those same jagged whimpers from your mouth like Seungcheol does?
Does his semi-hard cock feel as good pressed against you?
God, he’s so fucked. Utterly and completely fucked. And he wonders if this would be as bad if he’d just kept his mouth shut, took that secret to his grave instead of fooling himself into thinking it could be more. If it wouldn’t have devolved into… this. You’d always told him not to get attached, that sex was just sex and there was no need to ruin a good thing. But Seungcheol is a selfish man, always has been, and what if? is a dangerous question.
Jeonghan (23:36) Wow, you’re a fucking pussy. Stop hiding in your room like a little bitch. Seungcheol (23:36) Fuck off
He can’t go down there. Not because he’s a coward, but because he’s barely tethered to his sanity as it is. Something about you brings him out of his mind, makes him toss whatever good judgment he has left to the wind. Seungcheol is far too impulsive when it comes to you, reckless in ways that have all twenty years of his social training weeping in a corner; have alarm bells ringing in his brain. So, no, he can’t go downstairs right now because he knows he’ll do something stupid. Stick not only his foot but his entire lower body in it. He should’ve listened, yet here he is, dick pulled halfway out of his jeans because the thought of you alone gets him hard but his pride won’t let him jerk off to the image of anyone touching you that’s not him.
Forget whatever Jeonghan had called him. He’s a fucking fool. A moonstruck, delusional fool who’d tricked himself into thinking he could swim when he can barely tread water.
You (23:41) Something wrong?
Oh, here we fucking go, he thinks. Because this is Seungcheol’s game—one he’d perfected years ago, the one where he’s coy and chilly, never too eager, never committed. Just a little bit of a tease. Barely enough to keep them on the hook, a little needy; still enough to keep them coming back. But you’d taken one look at him all those years ago and had him pegged immediately. Figured out his game and learned the rules, used them against him. Now you watch him flounder with a smile on your face.
Seungcheol (23:42) Never knew you were so needy baby. First you show up uninvited and now youre missing me?
But just because there’s now a player two doesn’t mean he’s doomed to lose. He knows how you look when you’re on your knees for him. Knows how you sound when you’re begging to cum and stuttering out his name like you’re singing hymns. Knows how you look with your eyes rolled back after he’s fucked you dumb. Kim Mingyu doesn’t know shit.
Seungcheol knows he’s the only one fortunate enough to experience you like this.
And god does it kill him.
You (23:44) Don’t act stupid
A pleased exhale of laughter, an equally-smug smirk. Yeah, this is still Seungcheol’s game, the crown still sitting atop his head. You can let Mingyu grind his dick against you all you want, but Seungcheol is still the one you’re seeking out, pouting at the fact he hasn’t come to find you yet.
You (23:44) Mingyu invited me
Oh, you’re good—know just which buttons to press and how much pressure to use. Whatever smug expression Seungcheol had been wearing slides off his face immediately, tongue pressing into his cheek.
Seungcheol (23:46) And yet youre looking for me? You (23:47) Don’t have to look for you to know you’re upstairs sulking in your room because Jeonghan tattled on me like a fucking five year old Seungcheol (23:49) Maybe you should come up here then Seungcheol (23:49) Away from prying eyes
You don’t reply immediately. It’s just long enough for Seungcheol’s brain to conjure up something indecent—the way you’ll straddle him, the way his cock will feel pressed against the apex of your thighs; the goosebumps that’ll raise on his arms when you work your tongue along his neck, that spot near his collarbone you know he likes. His cock throbs against the confines of his jeans when he thinks about the devastated look on Mingyu’s face when you make up some excuse to get away from him, to traipse up the stairs and fall into Seungcheol’s bed, when he realizes he’s not going to have you.
You (23:56) It’d be pretty rude to leave my date, don’t you think? You (23:57) If you want me so bad, come down here and get me yourself
Seungcheol doesn’t play games; doesn’t compete because he has no competition. He’s always been given whatever he wants on a silver platter, no questions asked, so he’s wholly unprepared for this turn of events. What he knows he should do (respond to your text and tell you to fuck off, that you know where he is should you stop being a brat and change your mind) is not what he does (tucks his dick back in his jeans, finally throws on a clean t-shirt, and takes his time descending the stairs so he doesn’t look too eager), because logical thought gets tossed out the window entirely wherever you’re concerned.
“Ah, if it isn’t our resident pissbaby making his grand re-entrance.”
Seungcheol clenches his jaw for the nth time and glares. “Fuck off, Jeonghan.”
The man in question laughs—the annoying raspy one that grates on Seungcheol’s nerves—and hands over a cup of something brown and pungent. “Well, judging from your attitude, and the fact you’re barely hiding that boner you’ve got, you clearly didn’t spend your time away jerking off. What finally got you down here, the promise of cheap whiskey I nicked off some freshman or the fact that your girlfriend’s about two seconds from getting a public indecency charge courtesy of Kim Mingyu?”
Well. Jeonghan may be an asshole but he’s not wrong. Even through the crowd of people and the haze of whatever’s in his cup and a contact high, Seungcheol spots you immediately. Your back is pressed against Mingyu’s chest, his fingers gripping tight at your waist as you roll your hips in time with his. Whatever manufactured filth he’s whispering to you draws a smile, causes you to reach up and tug sharply at his hair. Fuck, Seungcheol can almost hear Mingyu’s moan from across the room, and his blood quickly heats to a rapid boil.
Another chuckle from the demon beside him. “Stop fucking laughing,” Seungcheol snaps, still unable to take his eyes off of you. “Fuck this. I’m going back upstairs. Make sure everyone’s out of here by three. I’m not paying for another noise citation.”
Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “I’m absolutely not going to do that.” He shoves a bottle of something in Seungcheol’s hand. “Take this and think of me when you’re crying yourself to sleep because Mingyu stole guaranteed pussy right out of your hands.”
“Why do you do this?” Seungcheol asks, shoving at Jeonghan’s shoulder roughly. “You never know when to fucking quit.”
Another streak of white-blond. “Hey, no fighting!” Soonyoung slurs, trying his best to push Seungcheol to the other side of the kitchen with his useless, limp arms.
This attracts the attention of Joshua, who struts into the room looking straight out of Fashion Week, much like he always does. He hasn’t even broken a sweat. “Aw, are Mom and Dad fighting again?” he asks, his lips tugged into a smirk. He ignores Seungcheol’s scowl as he fixes himself a drink. “You know Mingyu only does it to get a reaction out of you,” Joshua adds, quieter this time, as if he’s telling Seungcheol a secret only meant for the two of them to share.
“What’s her excuse, then?” Seungcheol fires back, because even if he doesn’t like it, Joshua’s right. This is exactly the kind of behavior he’d expect from resident campus whore Kim Mingyu, but he never expected you to go along with it.
Joshua cocks an eyebrow. “She doesn’t need an excuse, Cheol. She’s not your girl.”
Even though it’s a truth he already knows, it somehow hurts worse being spoken in plaintext, a hushed conversation in a crowded kitchen. Being let down gently. Seungcheol knows he needs to make a decision. He needs to let you go and start moving on with his life; can’t be having these quasi-meltdowns during frat parties anymore. Can’t be possessive and spiteful. You don’t want him. Everyone knows you don’t want him, so that’s all there is to it. Maybe you’ll want Mingyu and he can finally wash his hands of this forever, scrape the jealousy off his tongue.
He steels himself. Rolls his shoulders back, cracks his neck. Navigates the crowd in the living room until he reaches you and your so-called date. Grabs you by the elbow—gentle enough that it doesn’t hurt but firm enough to send a message—and says the two of you need to talk. Upstairs. Now. Mingyu just smiles like he knew this was coming and presses a pointless, wasted kiss just below your ear. Seungcheol tells him to fuck off, too, and Mingyu grins wider, tongue darting out to wet his lips.
As he guides you to his room, he doesn’t think about the way your hand fits in his. Doesn’t think about how this is going to be the last time he has you. Doesn’t think about who’ll have you after. Doesn’t bother to wonder if you’ve finally changed your mind like he had all those other times he’d walked this same familiar path with you in tow. Because it’s the last time. Whatever happens once it’s over is out of his control.
Perhaps that’s what it’d always been about. Seungcheol has always been spoiled and selfish and so terribly, terribly desperate to prove he’s more than his family name and family money. So, yeah, he’d wanted the control; wanted what was never his for the taking. You’d always been the opposite—his perfect little counterpart. Always so pliant and careless and free: everything Seungcheol tried so hard to be but couldn’t, and that’s where the switch flipped.
Someone like you isn’t meant to be controlled.
What he used to want so badly now tastes rancid in his mouth.
The door locks behind you. Seungcheol doesn’t meet your eye as he says, “You got what you wanted. Are you done being a fucking brat?” It’s not a tone he usually takes. Usually he’s dirty, a little possessive, willing to let you set the pace. He doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches. “I asked you a question.”
“Seungcheol—”
He clicks his tongue, stalks closer until you’re nearly in his grasp. Your eyes close instinctively as if you’re expecting his mouth on yours. Instead, he threads his long fingers in your hair and pulls. “What’s so hard about answering a simple yes or no question? Did you really want Mingyu’s dick so bad you’ve gone dumb all of a sudden?”
You gasp. “No.”
“No what?” Seungcheol chides. “No, you’re not done being a brat? Or no, you weren’t just downstairs acting desperate and pathetic for mediocre cock?” He runs his thumb across the seam of your lips, follows their movements as you speak.
“I wasn’t—”
A low, mocking chuckle. “You were, baby.” Sounds condescending; speaks to you like you’re a stupid child. He’s so close to you now. Can smell the tang of your skin, the sticky notes of your perfume. Feels your breath fan against his own sweat-slick skin. Still avoids your gaze, because as domineering as he appears, he knows he can unravel just as quickly. “Take your clothes off. This is the last time I’m gonna fuck you and I’m not going to ask twice.”
Now you truly look caught off-guard. “What?” Still he ignores you, expensive silver rings clinking into a dish on his dresser one by one, expensive watch following. “What do you mean the last time?”
Deft fingers play at the buttons on his shirt. Not silk, but just as expensive. “Shit. You’re really testing my patience, you know.” You’re still standing at the edge of his bed, staring dumbly as if he’s just going to start spilling all his secrets, give you some kind of explanation. “I believe I told you to strip.”
Unlike Seungcheol, your fingers tremble as they work at buttons and zippers and hemlines, push down denim and remove heels. It’s clear you’re trying to work out what he’s playing at—if this is some punishment for fucking around with Mingyu or if he really means it—but you’re not going to risk asking. Things between the two of you are already tense as it is. Seungcheol has never been wound this tight, never been so ready to snap.
“That’s it,” he praises once you’re left in nothing but a skimpy underwear set you know he likes. “Look at you. Fucking gorgeous. I bet that’s why you think you can get away with embarrassing me, huh?” He grabs your chin, forces you to meet his gaze for the first time since he’d dragged you up here. “Get on your knees. I’m getting tired of repeating myself.”
It’s not an unfamiliar sight—as it is, you usually leave Seungcheol’s room with bruised knees on a good night—but it settles differently in his gut this time. Because he’d dared a glance at you once and knows he can’t do it again, so he watches the top of your head as you fumble with his belt buckle and looks away whenever he thinks you might risk a glance upwards. Finds some point on the wall to focus on. Hisses through his teeth when you pull his cock from his briefs, your hands cold against his flushed skin.
All he wants to do is kiss you. Draw this out. Give you a memorable last time, maybe mark you up a little. He really wants to savor the feeling of your tongue on his cock, but all he can focus on is the fact that he’ll never be enveloped in that wet heat again. He’s never going to feel your mouth working him over, feel you humming around his length because he knows you love the weight of it, you love wrenching away that little bit of control, turning him into a mess.
But he’s not going to dwell. He’s going to thumb at the hinge of your jaw, force it open just wide enough for his cock to fit inside. Then he’s going to fist your hair into a makeshift ponytail, grip it tight, use it to guide your mouth until there’s only an inch of space between you. He’s going to stare down at you, silently revel in how fucked out you look already even though he hasn’t touched you. He’s going to watch the way your fingers dig into your thighs because they can’t touch him. Then he’s going to say—
“Beg me. Beg me to let you suck my cock.”
There’s a flicker of hesitation. Seungcheol doesn’t talk to you like this. This is not the kind of dynamic the two of you have, and Seungcheol finds himself wondering if things would be different if it was. If he’d never started going so easy on you. Would you want him then? Or would you have left a long time ago?
He’s half-expecting you to do that now. You look ready to bolt, to pull your clothes back on and tell him to go fuck himself on the way out. Probably go straight back to Mingyu, let him fuck you hard but routine, the way Seungcheol usually does, the way he knows you like. He expects you to leave, and this is the last time, anyway, so he figures he has nothing left to lose.
“I’m going soft,” he snaps, the admonishment harsh on his tongue. When you look up at him, his jaw is clenched, eyes narrow. “You have one fucking job and you can’t even do that properly? Who’s going to want a dumb little whore that can’t follow simple instructions?”
He watches your eyes squeeze shut involuntarily. Wonders if he’s gone too far before deciding he doesn’t care if he has. It’s the last time, anyway, so it’s not like it matters. Watches the indents in your thighs grow deeper. Watches you inhale and try to steady your breathing.
Watches your eyes snap open, any trace of hesitation long gone. “Did you make that other girl beg for you?”
Seungcheol snorts, amusement showing all over his face. “Is that what this is about? You’re still mad I hooked up with some other girl so you act like this?” He clicks his tongue at you, fists his cock, slicking it up. “Are you jealous?”
“No,” you answer simply, “I’m just trying to figure out why you think you can speak to me however the fuck you want.”
Seungcheol’s hand stutters along his length before it stills, your words sharp and immediate against his skin. He should’ve known. Shouldn’t have thought something like this would work on you, that you’d like it, and he’s halfway to soft and throwing his hands up and tucking his dick back into his briefs when you say, “Answer the question.”
“What?”
You tsk. Move your hands from your thighs to his, nails pressing just deep enough to leave crescent moons behind that match your own. Something for someone else to see. “Did you make her beg for you?”
Seungcheol’s brain power decreases the higher your palms go, when your thumbs press into the dimples of his hips. Can barely choke out a hissed yes, yeah, fu-fuck when your hand covers his, fingers wrapping tightly around his own as you guide it back and forth, up and down the length of his cock. “What did you make her beg for, Cheol?”
“To—to to-touch me.”
You hum. Tighten your grip on Seungcheol’s hand and laugh as his hips roll involuntarily, seeking the friction. “Touch you how? Like this?”
“Yeah—fuck, yes, like this.”
“Did she? Did she listen to you like a good girl?” Your hand leaves Seungcheol’s only to collect the precum at his tip. “Don’t get all shy now, Cheolie.” You suck your thumb into your mouth and he whines. “Was she a good girl for you?”
You sit back on your haunches. Watch him jerk himself off. “Yeah,” he finally says, word cracking in the middle. “Boring, though. Not like—not like you.”
“No one is like me,” you admonish. “I could’ve told you that for free, before you went off and fucked someone else.”
“Not an idiot,” Seungcheol replies, the pace of his hand quickening. He’s playing a dangerous game; approaching the cliff edge at a dangerous pace. “No-nothing comes for free with you.”
All you do is smile, lopsided and smug. “Mm, that’s true. Guess your little dom moment earlier can just be chalked up to momentary stupidity, hm?” Seungcheol wants to nod, wants apologies to tumble from his lips until you shut him up, but his palm is so slick against his dick, fist tight enough to white out his vision. “Did you make her beg to suck your cock?”
Truth be told, Seungcheol can’t remember much of anything right now. He’s perilously close to coming, right at that precipice, and each filthy word that slips from your mouth just pushes him further to the edge. He remembers Chan inviting him to a party. He remembers a few drinks, a few hits from a blunt, compliments of Vernon; he remembers a girl making eyes at him from across the room—eyes that had looked a lot like yours in the haze of his crossfade. He remembers a locked bathroom and the sound of his voice as he told that girl how to touch him so it felt like you. He remembers her doing whatever he told her to, remembers how eager and submissive she was, how she didn’t mouth off to him the way you always do—
Remembers how unsatisfying it’d been when he came.
You’ve ruined him.
Not a revelation. Not even close to one. Seungcheol has known this for a long time, but that doesn’t mean annoyance doesn’t flare in his belly at the reminder. You don’t want him. Being so hung up on you isn’t doing him any favors, just means he’ll have a longer drop when this is all over. God, what the fuck is he doing?
He wants you so badly he’s aflame with it. He wants you so badly he can barely look at you anymore. He wants you so badly it consumes him, drives him insane, has him all fucked up and seething. He wants you, he wants you, he—
Loves.
Reality washes over him like a cold wave. Knocks him backwards, drowning, desperately trying to remember how to breathe. In, out; in, out—and none of it changes a goddamn thing.
Four years of this. Four years of touches exchanged in the dark, behind locked doors. Four years of yearning and trying and failing. Four years of everything getting lost in translation, because it’s hitting him now, but shouldn’t he have felt it before? Shouldn’t all those ‘drive me fuckin’ crazy, can’t fucking stand you’s he spoke into the crook of your neck rang hollow?
“Cheol—” you say, because you asked him something, tried to play along with this whole stupid charade, and he knows he’s frozen, just standing there, hand still wrapped around his cock, and he needs to say something, he needs to fix this—
“I’m a liar,” is what he comes up with. You’re still staring up at him, brows furrowed, pinched in the middle. Move, he wills himself, but nothing happens. “I’m a liar,” he says again, because if he says it enough you’ll believe it. “I’m sorry. I’m—”
“What are you talking about?”
He swallows. I’m in love with you, he wants to say. Feels the weight of the words on his tongue, heavy and pressing, and he thinks you should know. Even if you don’t feel the same, he thinks you deserve to know, but the way you’re looking at him—
He can’t bring himself to say it.
But he can—“Can I show you instead?”
Slowly, you nod. Seungcheol nods, too, still feeling off-kilter as he cradles your face in his hands, thumbs in the contours of your cheeks. Moves them down your neck, your shoulders, down the length of your arms. You meet him halfway, twining your fingers together, and he helps you stand, careful and considerate. At full height, he places a hand in the small of your back to tug you closer, kisses you like it’s the end of the world. Whines into your mouth at your familiar taste, and if he lets himself be delusional enough, he can pretend there’s form and substance to those sounds, that their edges are squared-off to form the words he wants to say.
Because it really might be the end of the world. Seungcheol has never known how to play the cards he’s been dealt when it comes to you. Always gets it wrong. Feints one way when he’s meant to go the other, takes the field with two left feet, always playing catch-up. Maybe the mistake was treating it like a game. Maybe the mistake was strategizing, only playing to win, because he lays you gently on his bed, fits his body in the space you create for him between your legs, and realizes he already won a long time ago.
He won the first time your eyes met. He won the first time he’d kissed you, more nerves and teeth than anything else. He won the first time you tucked yourself against his side and stared at his bedroom ceiling, half-smoked joint between your fingers, and made fun of the stupid flag he’d hung up. He won every time you took all the bullshit he threw at you and dished it right back. He won every time he had the privilege of tracing mindless shapes into your soft skin.
Every second of your time you chose to give him—all victories.
He presses in further. Groans when your hands move to his shoulders and grip tight; when your nails dig into the skin of his back. “I’ve been so stupid,” he says, punctuating his words with a nip at your ear. Smirks out of the corner of his mouth at your shuddering breath. “Haven’t I?”
“Yeah,” you answer, rolling your hips upward. He grabs at you desperately, tries to keep you still; hisses when you swat his hands away and redouble your efforts. “You’ve been a fucking asshole for a—for a while.”
You can’t see the way he pouts. Wonders, too, if that would work on you, if it’d earn him one of those rare moments of tenderness. “Well I’m trying to—shit, baby—trying to make it up to you, but you seem pretty determined to make me bust right now.”
He can see the way you roll your eyes. See the way the corners crinkle after as you laugh softly, breathlessly, still trying to chase a high Seungcheol refuses to provide. “You deserve it. You tried to dom me, you dickhead.”
Embarrassment sits obvious on his ruddy cheeks. He hides his face in the crook of your neck so you don’t see it, don’t have something to poke at him with later, but you’re having none of it. You thread your fingers through his hair and tug gently, forceful enough to have him pliable, and there it is: there are stars in your eyes as you stare up at him, tender and soft just like he hoped you’d look, and he misses the feeling of your nails on your scalp until you’re tugging at the delicate chain around his neck and pulling him closer. “Just kiss me and we’ll call it even.”
This is how it feels to get struck by lightning, he thinks. Every part of him is on fire, and he’s content to burn as his lips find yours. He sighs happily into your mouth, hikes your thigh higher around his middle, presses in to lay claim to what little space is left between you. Seungcheol is so close he can feel the rapid pace of your heartbeat, because this is not the way you usually kiss. What used to be dirty and quick, a means to an end, now has intent, purpose. He’s kissing you like he wants to steal the air from your lungs to replace it with something better.
Trails those same kisses down the length of your body. Open-mouthed at your neck, your collarbones, the space between your breasts. Teasing and slow in the space between each rib, just to watch the way your skin pebbles. Hungry and insistent at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, because if he’s feeling this unhinged, he wants you right there with him. Can’t bear the thought of still being in this alone. Not anymore.
“Legs over my shoulders.” You listen immediately, and Seungcheol mutters a quiet fuck at the sight before him. “God, you’re so wet.”
“No shit—”
He swats at your clit, delighting in the way your body jolts. “Hush. The only thing I wanna hear out of your smart mouth from now on is my fucking name.” And then he’s diving in.
He eats you out like a man starved; like he could do this every day for the rest of his life and he still wouldn’t be satisfied. Can’t help but rut against the mattress at the way you taste, the way your thighs tighten around his head, the sting as you pull at his hair. Places both hands beneath your ass to lift and drag you closer to his waiting mouth—licks at you wet and feverish, all of this seemingly more for him than it is for you, and you’ll get tired of it soon, just like you always do. You’ll tell him—
“Do it right, Cheol, please—”
And he’ll pull away and tsk, swat at you again. His responding laugh will be cocky and derisive when your body trembles again, frantic with the need for more. “What did I say, baby? Do you not trust me to make you come?” You cock an eyebrow, torn between throwing some sarcastic remark at him and following the rules long enough to get what you want. His voice grows serious as he presses a soft kiss to your core. “I will always take care of you.”
The rest is muscle memory.
The rest has a chorus of Cheol, Cheol, Seungcheol spilling from your lips as he suctions his own around your clit. The rest has you grinding your pussy against his face. The rest has him groaning at the way he’s so wholly consumed by you: the taste of you on his tongue, face soaked, two fingers pressed deep into your cunt. The rest has him saying that’s it, baby, come on my face, I know you can and feeling delirious when he finally pushes you over the edge; when your walls clench around his fingers, breathing fractured, when you grab at him until you’re eye-level and you’re licking into his mouth to taste yourself.
Tastes a lot like I love you.
“Want you to ride me,” he says, gaze half-lidded and pleading. You whine as he moves his thumb back to your clit, tracing slow, slow, slow circles, oversensitive. “Will you do that for me?”
The party seems so far away. Grows even further away when you nod and straddle his lap. Seungcheol sits up, tells you to wrap your legs around him. Can’t stand not touching you; needs every inch of his skin to be covered by you like a bruise—something deep that’ll last for days, weeks, months. The mottled colors will change, but it’ll still be there.
“Need you, Cheol,” you whisper, kissing his eyelids. He hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes.
“You have me,” he answers, but it sounds foreign to his ears—sounds wretched, like the words have been punched out of him. It sounds like forfeit. “Always have.”
You pull back. Study his face. Run over his plush bottom lip with your thumb. It feels like an eternity of silence before you speak. “No, I haven’t,” you insist, tone insistent but delicate, like you’re trying to convince him of it, too. “Not like this.”
I love you.
You lift your hips just enough to sink down on his cock. Seungcheol’s moan is loud and unabashed, not afraid to let anyone hear the way you make him feel. All he can think is familiar: he knows your blinding white heat; has made countless homes in your tight grip he still holds the keys to; has done this so many goddamn times it’s second nature.
He was an absolute fool to think he could ever walk away.
You roll your hips, taking him deeper like you’ve got something to prove, body moving on its own sinuous accord. Seungcheol loves you like this, when you know exactly what you want and aren’t afraid to take it. When you press sloppy kisses to his neck, the column of his throat. When he grabs at your hips, tries to move you faster along the length of his cock, and you swat his hands away. When your rhythmic up-and-down turns into a slow grind that has you gasping and breathless, pussy spasming around him.
“Goddamn, I love this pussy,” he chokes out, fingers gripping tightly at the sheets since he can’t touch you. He’s mindless with pleasure, feels himself start babbling nonsense he can’t make sense of, and it’s overwhelming, having you like this. Isn’t sure how he’s survived this long, but maybe you were right.
Maybe it was never like this before.
Usually he’d take you from behind, quick and dirty, hands digging into the meat of your ass, palm cracking down on it every now and then, imparting white heat of his own. Usually he’d have you beneath him, knees pressed to your chest, all condescension as you told him, eyes rolled back, that he was too deep, that you couldn’t take it, and he’d rub at your clit and tell you you could as he dragged another orgasm out of you. Usually he’d be so frenzied and worked up he’d take you against the door, sweats pushed to mid-thigh, forearms straining as they held you up.
So, yeah—this is different. This is a patient, sensual dance to the finish line. This is Seungcheol in his rawest form: a live wire, vulnerable, anxious. This is the unknown, because something has to come after but he doesn’t know what it is.
This is Seungcheol throwing caution to the wind, leaning in close enough to taste the salt on your skin, and saying, “I love you.”
This is Seungcheol planting his feet and fucking up into you, unwilling to hear your response. Sometimes ignorance is bliss, but sometimes bliss is just bliss, and he’ll willingly take either.
This is you coming undone on his cock, breathing rapid and ragged, pupils blown wide as you stare at him in awe.
“Say it again.”
Someone slams into the wall just outside Seungcheol’s door, and all at once the real world creeps back in: the thrumming bass line of the music downstairs; laughter, shouting, and yelling; fists banging on shut doors—but he hears you loud and clear. Presses each word into your mouth this time and groans when you swallow them. Barely makes a sound as he spills inside of you, feeling like every nerve in his body is aflame.
The two of you are quiet for a time as you try to catch your breath. Seungcheol only moves to grab his duvet and wrap it around your shoulders, smiling fondly at the small thank you you mumble, seemingly still bogged down, well-fucked.
He presses a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth.
“Okay?”
You nod, push at him until he lays back and pulls you with him, lets you use his firm chest as a pillow. That flag you’d made fun of before isn’t up there anymore, but Seungcheol feels warm at the memory anyway, almost laughs at the comment he imagines you’d make.
Clears his throat. Tries to find his courage. “I really am sorry,” he tells you again, because it doesn’t matter if he loves you if he doesn’t know how to be good at it.
“I know, Cheol,” comes your easy reply. You’re tracing shapes on his stomach that have his muscles contracting. “I know you love me, too.” You sigh, press your lips to his rib cage. “Who knew it’d only take making out with Mingyu to get you to admit it.”
A wild laugh tumbles out of him. “Fuck off.” He can feel your grin.
“You got a fucked up way of showing it, though.”
He hums, holds onto you a little tighter. “Go easy on me, I only figured it out about an hour ago.”
“An hour?” you faux-gasp, make like you’re about to leave. “I’m outta here. I know my worth. If I’m going to say it back to someone, they need to be in love with me for at least two.”
He chokes at the implication, heart threatening to beat right out of his chest and into yours. He knows he looks exactly like the moonstruck, loved-up loser he is, and he coughs to cover it. “That’s what I said,” he lies. “Two hours. You must’ve heard it wrong.”
No, it was never like this.
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pitchsidestories · 1 month ago
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Drunken confessions II Katie McCabe x Reader
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romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 1562
summary: After Arsenal’s UWCL win, Reader and Katie celebrate privately. But at the fan celebrations, a drunk Katie announces their relationship to the world. requested
author's note: hi everyone, this will be our second last fanfic about the UWCL final, after that there will be another one with Renée Slegers. Enjoy ! 🤍❤️
disclaimer: everything in this fanfiction is purely fictional and nothing corresponds to reality.
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The final whistle echoed through the stadium. Players dropped to the ground, whether it was from exhaustion, relief or frustration. The Arsenal fans erupted into deafening cheers. Their team had just beaten Barcelona in the Champions League Final.
You stood frozen in the middle of the pitch, catching your breath, barely able to comprehend what had just happened. Suddenly, you were sandwiched in a tight hug between Lotte and Alessia.
“I can’t believe it! We won! Against Barcelona!”, Lotte shouted, bouncing with excitement.
Alessia, on your side, added with a beaming face: “We did it!”
You shook your head in disbelief, trying to take everything in.
“Everyone was unreal today.”, you agreed, ecstatic.
Lotte grinned and ruffled your hair: “Especially you.”
“Honestly!”, Chloe chimed in, appearing out of nowhere to squeeze you from behind.
“Stop, girls. You’re making me blush.”, you protested with a laugh, wriggling out of their arms.
But Chloe just shot you an evil grin: “Good.”
“Good?”, you echoed, pretending to be offended.
Chloe smirked: “Yes, you look pretty with a blush and tonight you’re in need of a good fu-…”
She didn’t get the chance to finish. Your jaw dropped in shock, and you let out an embarrassed squeal.
“Chlo, not in front of the children!”, you hissed, nodding toward Rosa and Katie Reid who were just strolling past you arm in arm.
Chloe rolled her eyes: “They don’t know what I’m talking about.”
You quickly changed the topic, nodding toward the rest of the team as they moved toward the stands to thank the fans: “It’s time to celebrate now anyway.”
Subconsciously, your eyes scanned the pitch, looking for one particular person.
The celebrations on the pitch were incredible, but after the medals were awarded, the party moved inside the stadium for your own private party as a team.
Jess Glynne was performing, and you were dancing with Alessia, both of you buzzing with adrenaline.
“This is so fun. I still can’t believe it.”, you shouted over the music.
The striker nodded: “Me neither. One of the best nights ever.”
She turned to Lotte, waving her over: “Lotte, come and join us.”
“Coming.”, Lotte called, setting her glass down on a table and joined your little circle.
“Perfect.”, you grinned at her.
Until someone tapped your shoulder.
You turned around, suddenly standing face to face with Katie.
The Irish woman’s lips formed a perfect pout: “Hey. I didn’t get to celebrate with you at all tonight.”
“Sorry.”, you said.
While Jess sang Hold My Hand, Katie leaned in and whispered: “Let’s leave.”
“Yes, please.”, you replied, already smiling.
She laced her fingers through yours and pulled you from the crowd: “Come on.”
“Coming.”, you responded, letting her lead the way.
A laugh slipped out as you both ran through the hotel corridors. You tightened your grip on her hand: “Someone’s in a hurry.”
“Yeah, I am.”, she wasn’t shy to confess this, breathless and grinning.
“Lucky for you, love, you don’t have to wait any longer.”, you murmured, swinging open the door to your room.
Katie stepped inside and spun towards you, pressing a hungry kiss to your lips. She smiled against your mouth: “Good.”
You matched her kiss with growing heat, hands roaming instinctively to her waist.
The door clicked shut behind you.
You didn’t bother with the lights.
Her fingers found the hem of your shirt, slipping underneath as she pressed herself closer. Her breath was warm against your cheek as she mumbled: “Missed this.”
You smirked into her kiss: “Then don’t wait.”
You stumbled back towards the bed, tangled together in touches and low laughter, clothes gradually giving way to skin. The air between you grew heavier, charged. Her mouth was everywhere, slow, deliberate.
You gave in to her, to the moment, to the way everything else faded when it was just the two of you, celebrating the biggest moment of your careers together.
But the celebrations didn’t stop there, they had only just begun.
By Monday, your team was celebrating the trophy win with thousands of fans outside the Emirates Stadium. A sea of red and white stretched out before you. The air buzzed with chants, cheers, and the hum of pure, unfiltered joy.
Your heart melted at the sight of children in oversized jerseys, some bearing your name, other your teammates'. Their smiles were as wide as the banners waving above them.
You burst into laughter when you spotted Renée striking her iconic pose: cigar in mouth, just like that old photo from her Rosengård days.
“Oh my God, Renée.”, you called out, grinning.
“That’s our coach!”, Katie shouted, practically bouncing on the spot. She was living for this , the noise, the people, the madness, the life of the party in human form.
You smirked: “It is.”
“Fuck yeah!”, your girlfriend added, eyes gleaming with pride and maybe still a little drunk. You weren’t sure she’d sobered up at all since Saturday night.
But the crowd adored the brunette for it. And honestly, so did you.
Admittedly, Katie brought the party to the stage. But you had to intervene when she leaned over the barricade in front of the stage, letting the trophy dangle precariously in front of the fans.
“Katie!”, you shouted, immediately grabbing her arm and forcing her to pull the trophy back on stage.
“I’m good, I won’t drop it.”, she only laughed, completely unbothered.
“Sure.”, you said, raising your eyebrows, slightly relaxing now that the trophy was safely back on stage.
Katie turned to you, still grinning: “You can fucking trust me.”
You ignored her, placing the trophy into the safe hands of one of your goalkeepers. But when you turned back around, Katie had somehow gotten hold of a microphone and was now yelling something at the fans.
You cringed but let her continue for a few minutes.
“Okay, that’s enough. Let me hand that to another girl…”, you said gently, reaching for the microphone after another display of how drunk she actually was.
Katie shielded it quicker than you expected, shaking her head adamantly: “No. Let me talk to them!”
With a sigh you lifted your hands in defeat: “Okay, fine. One last song and then Lee will get the microphone, do you hear me?”
Leah just smirked from behind you: “Let her have fun.”
“But she’s so drunk. It’s a bit embarrassing.”, you laughed.
“Now everyone listen up!”, Katie suddenly yelled into the mic, way louder than necessary.
“Oh god.”, you muttered under your breath.
Leah shrugged: “It’s better than her trying to wrestle Kim.”
You chuckled: “Good point, poor Kimmy.”
You looked over to your captain but thankfully, she seemed to be enjoying herself.
“Y/n, come here!”, Katie’s voice suddenly rang out over the mic.
You froze: “What? Why?”
“Just come here.”, she urged again.
Slowly, you made your way over to her. “Okay?”
She wrapped her free arm around you, pulling you in close and shouted into the mic: “This is the girl that I love. My girlfriend!”
She planted a kiss to your cheek while your heart dropped for a second, like you missed a step on a staircase.
It went quiet for what felt like an eternity, only broken by the gasps of fans and your teammates alike. Until suddenly, the crowd bursted out into cheers.
You could feel the blood rushing into your cheeks.
You slapped her lightly on the arm: “Katie!” Not sure if you were actually mad at her or not.
She looked way too pleased with herself and handed the mic off: “Now Leah can have the mic.”
“You definitely had enough drinks to last days,” you said, suppressing a smile.
Your girlfriend chuckled: “For days? Don’t be dramatic. I’m Irish.”
“Yeah, I saw you and Emma proudly declaring your love for Ireland at the party.”, you recalled. The former goalkeeper had been a mentor to the defender for a long time now and was someone she now called a close friend.
Theatrically, Katie pressed a hand to her heart and solemnly declared: “Ireland, Arsenal, and you.”
At that moment, you wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole. “That’s it, we’re going straight home afterwards.”, you muttered.
The Irishwoman rolled her eyes: “Boring.”
Her declaration of love hadn’t gone unnoticed by your teammates, who were burning with curiosity.
It was Leah who spoke up first, demanding answers: “No, first of all, you need to tell us everything! Why didn’t you tell us you were dating?!”
“You lot are noisy and annoying.”, Katie muttered.
“And you’re a lightweight. I’m never letting you live that cheesy line down.”, the blonde shot back.
Calmly, Lia looked up from her phone: “I don’t think you’ll have to. It’s already all over social media.”
Katie grinned, clearly pleased with herself. She tightened her arms around your shoulders: „Good, because this girl here belongs to me.” “I think we all got that now.”, Leah remarked, smiling.
That evening, your bedroom was filled with laughter and low light from the fairy lights. You turned to meet your girlfriend’s gaze: “I love you, you annoying idiot.”
“I know.”, she answered smugly.
Your lips met in a kiss, from which you broke away, swearing: “Jesus, you need to brush your teeth again!”
Katie just laughed, pulling you back in: “Get over it, you love me.”
And, despite everything, you really, really did.
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playstation-dreamcast · 4 months ago
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Love your Wesker hcs! I've always loved whenever he's angry, his nose wrinkles up like a dog. What about possible headcanons of someone trying to cheer him up and finds out that he snorts when he laughs? Much different than the stoic 'evil aah laugh' that he has
This one lowkey got away from me, and at some point it stopped being headcanons and became just like...weirdly formatted fanfiction lmao. Anyway, I think I'm funny- this is a fair warning 💜
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Okay, so first of all what you need to understand is that the mission you have taken on is only really possible in theory. It has been hypothesized in the past that you can make Wesker smile- or even laugh- but it’s never been proven in a scientific setting or in a replicable way. So good luck soldier.
I think Wesker has an extremely niche sense of humor. Like, I think he would have laughed at this joke and then hated himself for it. (Please excuse not only the link to a youtube short, but for it being from the Ted show)
I think for most people, if they get a particularly rough huff of air out of him they’re happy. But, of course you’re not most people and you know that everyone laughs at something. Like, genuinely laughs, not that obviously fake cackle he whips out when he wants to seem menacing. You noticed he’d somehow managed to be more bitter recently. His already volatile mood set to the extreme and seeping arsenic into the air. So, naturally you decided this was the week you were going to hear him genuinely laugh
You start off with the driest joke you know. “So, a horse walks into a bar, right? And the bartender goes “hey, I see you in here a lot. Are you an alcoholic?” and the horse says, “I think not!” and poof into the air!” You have his full attention, it’s going well, you contine “So, normally at this point the philosophy students I used to hang out with would giggle, because they were familiar with the philosophical proposition of “Cogito ergo sum” or I think therefore I am. Bu-”
“Let me guess, you don’t explain that concept first because it would be to put Descartes before the horse?” Fuck he was good. 
Okay, so obviously that didn’t work. Try again. “Okay okay, you’re gonna live this one” Wesker just raised an eyebrow at you. You continued. “So, an infinite number of mathematicians walk into a bar, right? First one orders a beer, second one orders half a beer, third one orders a quarter of a beer- so on and so forth. Finally, after the seventh order the Bartender just says, “You guys are all idiots,” And pours two beers.” You smiled proud, just to realize Wesker’s face hadn't moved an inch. He gave you a pity huff. “Sounds like they should have known their limits.” He said,  which like…damn- his was a way better punchline and he didn’t even crack a grin. He just scrunched his nose up in that way that told you he was done with the conversation
Finally, you had a breakthrough. It came on a random Wednesday afternoon of all days, when a coworker asked you “Hey, what’s the difference between an etymologist and entomologist?” Without even looking up from your own paperwork you just said “An Etymologist would know.”
THAT. That was what got him. You heard it from behind you, the normal huff followed by an actual- legitimate- real life giggle from him. Your head whipped to look at him so fast you should have gotten whiplash. “Really?! It’s the study of words you find humorous?!” You weren’t even trying to joke, but your entire reaction was just so fucking funny to him. He was full on laughing now, yet you still couldn’t get over it. “You found that funnier than Descartes before the horse?!” 
He snorted. He snorted loud, one hand coming to grab his side while the other came up to try and muffle his hysterics. The joke wasn’t even that funny, it was your reaction to his reaction that got him more than anything else. Still, your eyes glittered as a victorious grin found your face. A win was a win, and you were going to ride this high as far as it would take you. You opened your mouth, just for Wesker to hold out his hand and shake his head. He needed to catch his breath.
He admitted to you once he calmed down that he tried not to laugh, because he found his snort to be “undignified.” You couldn’t disagree more. And the joke was on him, because now you had cracked the code. You had actual, contextual evidence that he was actually capable of joy and laughing (Something you had always suspected) and you were determined to hear it again
It was easier to pull it out of him again once you got it out of him once. It got to the point that even when he was at his most surly you could get him to at least chuckle pretty reliably. Slowly chipping away at that cold hard armor he had built up to slowly reveal the actual human that was there. 
He said he wasn’t a fan of it. That the work you were doing was serious, and you shouldn’t be joking around so much. And yet he still kept you around! Still indulge you in your antics, and even got involved himself a few times. That scrunched up nose that once meant annoyance now indicated joy and delight. Rare feelings for him to have. It was nice. Maybe he'd keep you around afterall
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samwinchesterism · 1 year ago
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in re: “cas knows dean better than sam”
“cas sees dean as a whole person and sam just sees dean’s façade as his big brother slash parent” but like how and where. outside of your fanfiction. season and episode. scene and line. if it’s so obvious and apparent you should have at least 3-5 concrete examples right? “sam doesn’t know dean carried him out of the burning house” yeah but did cas? outside of a footnote in the angelic manila folder they gave him between seasons 3 and 4 so he could better manipulate him and sam into doing heaven’s bidding? like if you’re going to say “cas knows dean better than sam” than you need to show how cas succeeds where you perceive sam to be failing at the very least. but even your perceptions of how sam doesn’t measure up are so warped, blinkered, and moronic that it wouldn’t even be worth much if you could provide the textual evidence, but at least you’d have a semblance of a point. like say anything without going “as an eldest daughter…” “well my relationship with my sibling isn’t…” please say anything without fucking projecting your own self-pitying crybaby bullshit onto your little woobie dean and using the actual canon text of the show. I’m literally begging you.
like the thing of it all is and always has been that you’re so hell-bent on twisting the sam and dean relationship to fit into this narrow and almost entirely inaccurate mold which is the basis upon which you build the entire Destiel Mythos that you literally lose all sense of media literacy. you don’t even miss the forest for the trees, you miss the trees for like, the pretend invisible things you’re seeing in between the trees, the forest is a whole long way away from your current level of perception. because the Destiel Mythos is based entirely on the fact that dean is Not Seen and Not Appreciated and Not Loved and Cannot Be Himself until cas comes along, and that Family (read: sam) Is Only A Burden on Him That He Must Be Freed From In Order to Flourish, so you keep trying to warp the sam relationship into something that is only one dimension of it – and keep ignoring the ways in which dean is seen, loved and understood within it, because you need to keep lying to yourselves that there is a narrative need to emancipate dean from something that he has never wanted emancipation from because it is ultimately a net good for dean in the particular circumstances of their lives. it’s also profoundly unhealthy, codependent, evil and toxic etc. (a lot more dean’s fault than sam’s but I will nawt be getting into all that right now) but that doesn’t change the fact that sam and dean both know and understand and feel deeply that they are each other’s person – that they know the best and love the most in the world. but that – which IS true canon fact – is incompatible with the Destiel Mythos so it must be ignored and all good sense must be thrown out the window in order to do it.
anyway i digress there are two main categories of Bad Thinking that i will be addressing below
childhood/ “parent/child” / blah blah blah
every single thing people are saying in favour of the deeply stupid thesis in the title of this post is proof positive of the very silly form of ‘analysis’ I just described. a few things:
“wah sam didn’t know that dean carried him out of the burning house :( this means that dean withholds things from sam to protect him because he is a PARENT and sam can only know things about him in the context of him being a PARENT to him” – what the fuck are you on about genuinely. first of all reducing the sam/dean relationship exclusively to parent/child is in itself foolishness for so many reasons that I don’t have time for right now. but also, it’s clear that this is just something that happened when sam was a baby that just never came up. in the scene (1.09) where this is brought up, dean is mildly surprised that he or john never mentioned that detail and then states that sam knows the rest of the story (i.e. the actual traumatic stuff) just as well as dean does – which is true, demonstrably whenever they talk about it.
obviously there are some things that happened to dean in their childhood that sam doesn’t know about (or didn’t know about, until told in whatever episode they come up in). equally, there are things dean doesn’t know about sam’s childhood, e.g. the fact that he was so lonely he needed a zanna (11.08). or how dean didn’t remember that sam was friends with barry cook until he mentions it when they go back to their old school (4.13). or about the nature of sam’s relationship with amy pond (7.03). these don’t mean that ‘sam withheld these things to protect dean out of parental love’ lol, it’s just that there are details and events in each of their lives that the other happens to not have been told about.
similarly “sam didn’t even know dean wanted to be a firefighter L” girl did dean know sam wanted to be a lawyer? in 1.01 he’s pretty surprised that sam has a law school interview. the point here isn’t “neither sam nor dean know each other well,” these are minutiae that aren’t relevant to how well you know someone as a whole, and very poorly demonstrate the bad and inaccurate point that dean withholds things from sam the way a parent does a child (on a constant or regular basis). obviously the way they were raised, sam was deemed too young to know about certain things until he got older and dean had to keep that secret, but as shown in 3.08 flashbacks, most if not all of this is eventually revealed throughout their childhood when sam is still fairly young.
or possibly the dumbest one is that “wah sam doesn’t even know that dean reads books L” whenever that was he was also obviously joking because in more serious moments (e.g. 8.14) he admits that dean is smart/a better researcher than he is, literally remembers dean reading to him as a kid (8.21) so like. clam down  
one of the extra annoying variants of this type of ‘proof’ covers things that are very clearly novel pieces of information about dean that dean, sam, and the audience are learning about dean in real time. like if you’re actually watching the show to comprehend it as it was intended to be comprehended, instead of funnelling everything through the Destiel Machine until it’s unrecognizable slop that fits neatly into your pre-ordained molds that Make Destiel Necessary In the Narrative (when it actually isn’t, at all) it’s abundantly clear. the top two worst offenders:
“sam didn’t even know that dean is good with kids :( he doesn’t even realize that dean raised him :(” first of all you people need to understand that parentification does not literally create a parent-child dynamic between siblings but I digress – this doesn’t make any sense bro. in 1.03 dean admits he doesn’t know any kids as an adult. dean being good with his own kid brother when they were both kids is to any reasonable person not necessarily linked with him being good with other random kids when he’s an adult. in 1.03 it’s clear that dean himself is a bit surprised that he’s able to connect w/ lucas so well because he’s clearly not dealt with a lot of kids since sam grew up. the whole point of this is that dean, sam, and the audience are all sort of seeing a new side of dean. who again is just 26. after this very early episode, there’s no question from sam that dean is able to connect w kids. sam being a bit surprised by this also has absolutely zero connection with him not understanding or realizing that dean looked out for him when they were both kids – sam is standing there at 22 years of age talking about adult dean and children – of fucking course he doesn’t mean himself are you stupid.
from the very first season, sam is very clearly aware of everything dean ~did for him~ when they were kids, see e.g. 1.21: “Dean...ah...I wanna thank you. […] For everything. You've always had my back you know? Even when I couldn't count on anyone I could always count on you. And I don't know, I just wanted to let you know, just in case.”
and 1.06: DEAN: Well, I’m a freak, too. I’m right there with ya, all the way. (SAM laughs.) SAM: Yeah, I know you are.
and then possibly even more stupidly, the one where it’s like “wah sam doesn’t even know dean can cook :( he doesn’t even know that DEAN was the one making him food as a babe in arms :(” – when sam is surprised that dean made something fairly gourmet and from scratch literally the first time they have ever had a permanent living space with a functional kitchen. in this VERY scene (8.14), dean himself points out that they haven’t had a kitchen before and when sam remarks on the irregularity of him doing serious cooking, he says “I’m nesting”, clearly showing that this is a novel development because they now have a kitchen, and that it’s irregular relative to past behaviour – both of them acknowledge this. because real proper in-depth cooking and making box mac and cheese for sam until he was like 11 and old enough to be left alone are two different things, which sam understands because he’s smart, unlike whoever chooses to make this point. dean never showed significant signs of liking to cook before this, which is what the exchange is about, but he did have to prepare food for them both when sam was too young – of course sam knows he had to, there are childhood memories referred to (e.g. 14.11) where sam is mentioned to literally help dean do the cooking as kids lol (and yes, genius, sam says ‘I didn’t know you knew what a kitchen was’ or something to that effect, but if you think he’s being 100% literal there I have an oceanfront property in Kansas to sell you)
again, obviously there are pieces that sam doesn’t know about dean, e.g. when he’s talking about his response to mary dying in 1.03. but again, Sam is 22, dean is 26, the last time they were in regular contact was when sam was 18-20, these are things that happen when people grow up, they’re able to reflect and share on childhood experiences if they’re close with their siblings as adults. it’s clearly not something that 26 y/o dean wanted to hide from 22 y/o sam. yes sam didn’t know everything about how dean felt when they were young, but that’s equally true in the other direction, and it’s such an irrelevant point in this discussion when, crucially, sam does learn these things about dean mostly fairly early on in the series (i.e. when they’re really not that deep into adulthood yet). cas was also not magically blessed w/ knowledge about dean, he also had to learn whatever it is that he knows, but somehow sam has to know everything about dean from age 7 or it doesn’t count when it’s sam lol.
“sam doesn’t know the One True Dean / doesn’t see through his facades”
the next branch of defending this flawed thesis is invariably that sam has little idea of the fronts and facades that dean puts up and is content to just believe them, whereas cas digs deep and sees the One True Dean that stupid sam always misses. there is nothing in the text that demonstrates this is true. multiple times, we see sam being very knowing of the fact that dean puts up fronts and facades. sam is also knowledgeable of the way dean perceives himself, and – demonstrated in multiple episodes before such sam lines were very poorly recycled and regurgitated into cas’s dialogue in 15.18, but keep acting like that was the first time anyone ever showed that they knew the One True Dean.
Obviously there are times where sam teases dean when he’s being more touchy-feely than usual, but 9.99 times out of 10 (as a conservative estimate in case there's something i'm forgetting otherwise i would say every time) that’s very clearly coming from a place of knowing the real dean vs. the façade he puts up because that’s the whole joke. and it’s allowed to be a joke because they’re siblings and that’s what siblings do lol. esp since sam and dean have touchy feely moments at the end of like every episode.
examples of all of the above off the top of my head (there are more than these, but these are the ones I can think of):
2.02 (about John’s death)
Sam: “I mean this ‘strong silent’ thing of yours, it's crap. […] I'm over it. This isn't just anyone we're talking about, this is Dad. I know how you felt about the man.”
Dean: “You know what, back off, all right? Just because I'm not caring and sharing like you want me to.”
Sam: “No, no, no, that's not what this is about, Dean. I don't care how you deal with this. But you have to deal with it, man. Listen, I'm your brother, all right? I just want to make sure you're okay.”
2.03 (Sam to Dean, also about John’s death): “You know, you slap on this big fake smile but I can see right through it. Because I know how you feel, Dean. Dad's dead. And he left a hole, and it hurts so bad you can't take it, but you can't just fill up that hole with whoever you want to. It's an insult to his memory.”
Note that Dean essentially admits that Sam is right in these two instances in 2.04 bc I know yall have stupid shit to say about john too that has nothing to do with how anyone actually felt about him in canon
3.07 (about Dean’s demon deal – also proven true in later episodes)
SAM: Dude, drop the attitude, Dean. Quit turning everything into a punch line. And you know something else? Stop trying to act like you're not afraid.
DEAN: I'm not!
SAM: You're lying. And you may as well drop it 'cause I can see right through you.
DEAN: You got no idea what you're talking about.
SAM: Yeah, I do. You're scared, Dean. You're scared because your year is running out, and you're still going to Hell, and you're freaked.
DEAN: And how do you know that?
SAM: Because I know you! […] Yeah, I've been following you around my entire life! I mean, I've been looking up to you since I was four, Dean. Studying you, trying to be just like my big brother. So yeah, I know you. Better than anyone else in the entire world. And this is exactly how you act when you're terrified. And, I mean, I can't blame you. It's just […] I wish you would drop the show and be my brother again. 'Cause... (can't find words; tears in his eyes) just 'cause.
5.18 [Sam figures out what Dean is doing re: his plan to let Michael possess him, tracks him down, and eventually is the catalyst for Dean ‘making the right call’, which he predicts] – e.g.:
SAM: No, you won’t. When push shoves, you’ll make the right call
DEAN: You know, if tables were turned…I’d let you rot in here. Hell, I have let you rot in here.
SAM: Yeah, well…I guess I’m not that smart.
DEAN: I—I don’t get it. Sam, why are you doing this?
SAM: Because… you’re still my big brother.
8.14 (basically the o.g. version of whatever went on in 15.18 + sam intrinsically understanding the trials are a death wish for dean): “I'm closing the gates. It's a suicide mission for you. I want to slam hell shut, too, okay? But I want to survive it. I want to live, and so should you. You have friends up here, family. I mean, hell, you even got your own room now. You were right, okay? I see light at the end of this tunnel. And I'm sorry you don't – I am. But it's there. And if you come with me, I can take you to it. […] I AM smart, and so are you. You're not a grunt, Dean. You're a genius – when it comes to lore, to – you're the best damn hunter I have ever seen – better than me, better than dad. I believe in you, Dean. So, please – please believe in me, too.”
10.22 (understanding how much dean has ~done for him~)
SAM: I'm saving my brother.
CASTIEL: You told Dean—
SAM: —I know what I told Dean. Cas, look. I've been the one out there, messed up and scared. And alone. And Dean—
CASTIEL: He did whatever he could to save you.
SAM: Yes. I mean, it's become his thing. I owe him this. I owe him everything.
10.23 (basically the o.g. version of whatever went on in 15.18, x2 – from Sam to Dean): “You were also willing to summon death to make sure you could never do any more harm. You summoned me because you knew I would do anything to protect you. That's not evil, Dean. That's not an evil man. That is a good man crying to be heard, searching for... some other way. […] You will never, ever hear me say that you -- the real you -- is anything but good.”
11.13 (Sam understanding exactly how Dean feels about Amara being his ‘deepest desire’, and confirming that it doesn’t make him a bad person)
Dean: Why? Because if she is that means that I’m…
Sam: Means you’re what? Complicit? Weak? Evil?
Dean: For starters, yeah.
Sam: Dean. Do you honestly think you ever had a choice in the matter? She’s the sister of God, and for some reason she picked you and that sucks, but if you think I’m gonna blame you or judge you…I’m not.
Dean: You know that I want her ass dead.
Sam: Yes. Of course. And I know you’ve also probably beaten yourself up a hundred times over it, but where has that gotten us? (Long silence) Just how bad is it?
13.02 (Sam perfectly explaining Dean’s psyche to Jack)
JACK: Is that why Dean hates me?
SAM: Dean doesn’t hate you. It… Look, sometimes the wires in Dean’s head get crossed and—and he gets frustrated, and then he mixes frustration with anger, and—and fear.
JACK: Why would he be afraid?
SAM: Because Dean feels like it’s his job to protect everyone. And right now, we need to protect you. But we may also need to protect people from you.
14.03 [Sam assesses Dean’s psychological/emotional response to the Michael possession; end of episode, Dean confirms that Sam’s assessment was fully accurate]
14.10 [Sam is the only one able to snap Dean out of his weird Michael mind loop by using their code word]
14.11 [Sam figuring out that something is troubling Dean just based on the fact that Dean hugs him]
15.17 (self explanatory at this point)
DEAN: Chuck has to die. He has to! Otherwise he'll keep us tap dancing forever, and I can't live like that, man! I can't live like that! I won't!
SAM: I know you feel like that right now, okay. I know you do. But you gotta trust me. My entire life, you've protected me— from Dad, from Lucifer, from everything. I didn't always like it, you know, but... it's the one thing in the whole world that I could always count on. It's the only thing I've ever known that was true. So please... put the gun away. Just put it away, and we'll figure it out, Dean, we'll find another way, you and me. We always do.
like maybe there are some cas moments w dean along these lines too. i don't know, i don't remember what the guy says or does anymore it's been too many years and he is not memorable. but the point is where and in what capacity and based on what metric other than the amount of bad fanfic you've read does cas exceed sam in these respects.
so basically just. genuinely, what are you people literally ever talking about. go watch the show instead of saying stupid wrong stuff about sam on the hellsites all day. or watch another show (please for the love of god watch any other show this one is absolutely lost on you and it’s such a stupid one too i'm embarrassed for you)
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pumpkinpastiesandcoffee · 1 year ago
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Cursed Experiment
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Sukuna x F! Reader ... 18+
Summary: A need to do something of use pushed her on the path of research, a path that lead to Ryomen Sukuna, a path that will haunt her forever.
Words: 2646
Warnings: This whole thing is a big TW. NSFW, non con, blood, power play (its Sukuna guys cmon), unprotected, creampie, degredation, breeding kink sort of, size kink sort of.
A/N: I shouldn't have to say this but I don't condone actual r*pe or anything of the sort. This is fanfiction. Emphasis on the fiction.
~MDNI~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Being such a low-grade sorcerer was not the best feeling in the world, looked down on by so many, pitied or hated it felt the same. If only you had been born like a regular human, you could hide away from the monsters of the world, you could live guilt free because of you’re complete and utter uselessness. Unfortunately, however you could see curses, which meant you had to try hard, you had help otherwise that guilt would eat you up. Between that looming guilt, you’re barely there technique and desire for you to at least be able to protect yourself is how you came to be a student at jujutsu high. You did come to learn however, your talents lay in academia. Studying and analyzing, putting together reasonable theories to help in combat against the curses and curse users. After the Shibuya incident you were more determined than ever to learn and with that your mind had set itself upon Yuji Itadori and the powerful curse that resided within him, Ryomen Sukuna.
It had been weeks now, following the boy around and studying him, asking him all sorts of questions then disappearing into as much of the literature you could find. To your surprise, Itadori had been rather enthusiastic about your assessment, hoping in your studying of him that you might find a way to rid him of the curse and spare him or at least give him total control so that Sukuna didn’t harm anyone again. The curse in question had no intention of helping you though, chiming in on occasion purely out of his own amusement. You’d even taken to questioning Choso in order to gleam more insight on how cursed objects affect a host’s body. Although he wasn’t entirely helpful either, more so from a lack of understanding his own nature than a desire to help.
It was the topic of the death paintings that you were currently chatting about to Itadori, sat across from one another on his bed, a notebook to your side and laptop resting atop your lap. “So, we know very little as I said, but we can expect that they were created with their mother’s egg of course however when it comes to the paternal parentage it’s more of an, educated guess. See, it could be Noritoshi’s seed and the curse’s blood or cursed energy.” Taking a breath you continue with a slight exaggeration, “Or, it could be the other way around. The curse’s seed and Noritoshi’s blood. I don’t think imbuing his cursed energy would have passed on the Kamo blood technique though but explaining all why seems unnecessary for now. Anyway, what I’m getting at is…” as you continued on Sukuna had formed a mouth on Itadori’s cheek, remarking to the boy “Well, the little mouse is not so dull, imagine that. Prattles too much though.” Your cheeks burned red, eyes snapping up at the same time Itadori’s hand clapped over his cheek, a grimace on his face as he apologised.
You should be used to it by now, Sukuna had, on quite a few occasions, added his own comment to your conversations and it was never kind. Usually something about your weakness, hence he often referred to you as ‘little mouse’. It hurt at first and Sukuna seemed to enjoy that reaction, however now it mostly pissed you off and even though you tried to ignore him, his taunts seemed to burrow under your skin like some evil little parasite, poisoning your mind with hateful thoughts that had once been so foreign to you. “S’okay Yuji” you reassured, shaking your head and flashing a somewhat strained smile. You couldn’t blame him, he was nothing like Sukuna, so you were always quick to remind him of that. As you turned your eyes back to your notebook you hummed, a stray thought finding it’s way past your lips, “If you fathered a child, I wonder if it would possess any of Sukuna’s techniques or biology.” Thinking out loud truly was a bad habit and you felt nerves creep over you the second you said it, apologizing immediately, worried it was an inappropriate topic or just plain insensitive considering his impending execution.
“What an interesting question mouse, perhaps you should experiment, be the next Noritoshi hm?” The snide remark sent chills down your spine and Itadori stood up, waving his hands nervously as he apologised again. “Ah, perhaps that’s enough of my chatter for the night, I’ll leave you be Yuji” your voice had a waver to it, betraying your discomfort as you stood to collect your things. As you turned to leave, a hand clamped over your wrist and the sudden restraint had you jolting, notebook and laptop falling to the floor with a crash. As your eyes met Itadori’s you felt that cold chill wash over you, that feeling when your entire body knows it’s in danger and your stomach seems to collapse into itself and leave a nauseating heaviness in your gut. The hairs on your body stood on end as the sight of Sukuna’s distinct markings made your brain scream in fear and as you began to pull your hand back you knew his comments about your weakness were accurate. He could squeeze his hand and snap your wrist like a twig and the energy that radiated off of him stole your breath away.
He was smirking as he pulled his hand to his chest, forcing you close to him as he spoke in low voice, “You ask a lot of questions, it’s … vexing.” His voice trailed into a something of a growl, his annoyance clear as he continued, “So I’ll provide the experiment to answer one of your many questions, it has been a long time since I’ve indulged after all so I get something out of it too.” He really phrased it like he was about to do you a favor and in hopes of changing his mind, your brain and mouth finally started to work again and you teared up as you stuttered, “No, no Sukuna it, it was a p-passing though, please, d-don’t, I don’t want this!” Your words began to roll together in the panic as you began tugging against his vice like grip. He remained unmoved, staring at you like you were a hissing kitten, amusement barely hiding the cruelty in his eyes.
“You don’t want this? Hm, I thought you were dedicated to your studies, a shame.” Sukuna tilted his head, hand releasing you as he crossed his arms, muscles flexing in a way that only cemented your fear further. “I took control for this little experiment and you don’t want it? Ungrateful. Disrespectful.” With your arm free you stepped back, once, twice, then you turned to sprint and within an instant a hand had splayed out across your stomach, winding you with the force and as a scream tried to claw itself out of your throat another hand had clamped over your mouth. You felt your body being drawn back towards him and while Itadori himself wasn’t an overly large guy, he wasn’t like Aoi Todo in build or even Gojo in height, he still dwarfed you and his hand seemed to cover the entire lower half of your face, a couple fingers stretching down your neck.
The hand Sukuna had pressed to your stomach traced up to your neck, fingers curling over the neckline to form a fist around the fabric before yanking harshly, the buttons and fabric of your uniform giving away easily under the force he used. He pulled your bra down next, exposing your chest to the room as your tears ran freely down your cheeks now, collecting against his hand before spilling over and dripping down. A bored hum resonated from his chest as his free hand groped at your breasts, index and thumb capturing your nipple before pinching it harshly making your writhe against him as you tried to cry out only for the sound to muffle. Your hands tugged at his arm, trying to pull it off your chest as he chuckled. “I’d normally prefer to let you scream your little lungs out but, I’m on limited time so let’s not risk being interrupted.”
Sukuna turned towards the bed as his hand released your nipple only to travel down to lift your skirt instead, snaking under your panties and fingers parting your lips and searching for your core. Your hands followed his arm, nails digging into his skin as you tried to stop, your choked pleas ignored as his middle finger pressed into you with a groan. “Even for such a little thing your tight, I wonder, is it fear or is my little mouse a virgin? Perhaps both” he chuckled as he pressed his palm against your pelvis, forcing your body further against him and the erection that was now clearly rubbing against your lower back. The hand over your mouth loosened, giving you space to breathe and you took the chance to beg the curse for mercy and he rolled his eyes as he scoffed, “You’d be better off screaming, I have no intentions of stopping. I am curious though, is this fragile little body of your really untouched?” Sobbing, you nodded “Please, Sukuna please, don’t, don’t, please don’t.” “How fitting, a virgin sacrifice, that should be an omen of success for this experiment” Sukuna laughed, once again ignoring the pleas as his hand clamped back down on your mouth.
Forcing another finger into your tight heat had you squirming, pressing up on your toes in an attempt to get away but it only served to make the monster behind you groan into your ear. Deciding not to waste anymore time, Sukuna removed his fingers and instead used them to tear off the flimsy fabric that had been your underwear. “I’m gonna need both hands now, so no screaming yeah? Anyone that interrupts me will die and you don’t want people dying on your behalf, do you?” Another sob seems to wrack itself through your body and your hands fell away from his arm, your will to fight fizzling out at the promise of death. “I’m going to need you to answer me mouse, I want to hear you say you won’t scream.” As he dropped his hand from your mouth you barely had the capacity to speak, choking out between sobs, “I won’t scream, I won’t, I promise.” Sukuna chuckled, content with your compliance, “That’s a good little mouse.”
Now he pressed you forward and into the bed, forcing you onto your knees, ass up and face pressed into the mattress. He unbuttoned the fly of his trousers, pulling his cock out and rubbing the fat tip against your pussy. His touch might have been rough but your body had reacted how he wanted and you were slick enough it would be enjoyable for him. You dug your fingers into the duvet, wishing, praying you’d sink into it and disappear before he got any further but your thoughts got crushed as forced the angry red tip into you. Sukuna dug his own nails into your ass as he gripped himself and tried to get in further, “If you don’t relax, I’m only going to be rougher.” He sounded irritated, like the burning stretch that had you crying harder now was simply an inconvenience to him. You tried though, you really did, squeezing your eyes shut and willing your body to relax to the intrusion but it had a mind of its own and seemed only to defy you, muscles clenching in an attempt to stop the curse from using you.
Sukuna clicked his tongue, “I warned you” and he pulled your hips back harshly, forcing himself in. You know you promised not to, but you screamed, it was thankfully muffled by the duvet that you had pulled into your face but Sukuna brought a hand down on your hip, snapping at you to be quiet. It felt like you were being split in half, like he tore your tight cunt to fit himself in, a burning, stinging pain that radiated throughout your pelvis and down your thighs making you gasp for air. He moved more freely now, sliding in and out with a deep grunt of pleasure as the coppery smell of blood filled your nostrils making you gag and bury your face deeper into the bed. “Humans, you’re as fragile and weak as bugs” He mused as he slammed your hips back against himself again. Even now he seemed bored, as if using your body like some fuck toy meant nothing to him. Maybe if your mind wasn’t so shattered you’d have picked up on how his pleasure seemed to come from dominating you, tormenting you, ruining you.
He reached a hand forward, yanking your hair to the side, forcing your face into the light and displaying the swollen red mess that was your eyes. Cheeks streaked with tears and the outline of his handprint that had slowly begun to bloom into a bruise in some places. He grinned then, eyes taking in your look of despair as he fucked you into him at a brutal pace, hand returning to your hip and once again he sunk his nails into your flesh pulling a broken cry from your lips. It sounded hoarse, your throat sore from sobbing, from screaming into his hand then the bed. Sukuna knew he was running low on time, he could feel Itadori trying to claw back out and he focused on the blood now instead. Watched as it beaded up then slipped over the swell of your ass, some of the droplets making it as far as your thighs.
Finally Sukuna felt that coil tighten, pulling your body as close as he could, the head of his cock now hitting your cervix with bruising force that had you whimpering in pain despite the odd heat of pleasure that still managed to build in your own stomach. He rutted himself against your ass, blood smearing and staining his pants, the smell of it and sex filling the air and with a low, rumbling groan he spilled himself inside. Your heartbroken sobs only serving to fuel him, encouraging him to press as deep as your body could possibly allow and he stilled, breathing slow and deep, watching your tense body quiver. “Hm, here’s a question for you. If you do get pregnant, will Itadori be there for you and the child? Will he run, convince you to abort it, maybe he’ll suggest you keep it? He’ll definitely blame himself either way. Stupid. Humans are so stupid. I look forward to it though. Breaking him is very enjoyable after all.” Sukuna pulled away, completely releasing you now, watching as the mix of blood and cum slowly dribbled out of your swollen cunt, the occasional drip falling onto the bed below.
Once you realised you were free you collapsed, legs pulling up to your chest as you trembled, waiting for the curse to disappear as bile burnt your throat as the sick reality of the situation settled over you. It felt like forever and yet it somehow it felt like it had all happened in the blink of an eye and you realised you felt dizzy, the room seemed to swim and shift before your eyes. Suddenly Itadori’s voice rang out, a choked gasped followed by a loud thud as he stumbled back only to fall on his ass. Itadori didn’t want to look, he really didn’t want to see but his eyes seemed fixated on the trembling form on his bed and he knew, he knew all the apologies in the world, no matter how sincere, weren’t going to fix this. A silence seemed to swallow the room now, disturbed only by Itadori’s scattered breaths and your own shaky, whimpered ones.
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boundwithpurple · 14 days ago
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xena interesting in the context of like. hm. what is the tidiest way to phrase this...suspect radfem-influenced* fear of power in modern femslash fandom?? to whit: house of the dragon is a show entirely about power (obviously). and rhaenyra targaryen and alicent hightower are two queens who are high level power players in the brutal hierarchical political system of their patriarchal feudal society. they are both victims of patriarchy and perpetrators of patriarchal control of other women. alicent more obviously, when she, a child bride herself, marries off her daughter as sister-wife to her rapist son; rhaenyra to a less sharply gendered degree (though there is i guess gender neutral oppression of the poor, including women, i.e. the "sacrifice" of the dragonseeds), but you have the ways she distances herself from alicent's suffering - the ideal of uncomplicated solidarity between women in such a system is often subverted - or in how she uses rhaena's reproductive labor in s2 in a way that though different is eerily reminiscent of how her father entraps alicent in bearing and raising his children, in the moment she is attempting to follow him as king.
but the ship fandom...rejects all this. the men are the ones with power (partly true, in that men have access to more power, and partly very false, as aristocratic and royal women in this universe and generally still have power). this is Bad. luckily, rhaenyra and alicent are Good, because they are excluded from power (false and false). any examples of them wielding power over others is something they have been forced into and anyway, all can be redeemed - either in fanfiction, or in projections of where the show will go - when they learn to REJECT EVIL MEN and EMBRACE LESBIAN LOVE.
*the way this radfem-influenced is obvious to me...it's a certain vein of like pop lesbian separatist rhetoric that has a far wider seep into lesbian-dominated fandom spaces, where men - and therefore being "male centered" - is the domain of power, of violence sexual and otherwise, and the rejection of men - lesbianism - removes one from the taint of unjust power both in interpersonal relationships between women and more broadly. it gives me hives.
this is most marked in the fandom, and as i say the show undercuts any romanticism pretty frequently. but there is also a strong vein of insidious cultural feminism in the show, mostly centered around war, but occasionally around rhaenyra and alicent's bond (being the ones who are more “anti-war” in contrast to men who oppose them). the internecine civil war the narrative is centered around kicks off at the end of s1. and, in one of dumbest deviations from the book, they pull this really unfortunate move where all the women do not want to go to war, and all the men are slavering war mongers. and since they all come from the exact same social class and political background the only conclusion is like it makes their womanly wombs hurt or something. my problem is not any insult to men (fair enough, i guess), but the implicit idea that women have never prosecuted or championed war or carried out war violence, that there is something about women as victims of patriarchy that makes them fundamentally horrified by war violence, is really repugnant in a world of hilary clintons, just to start with our immediate moment. it is entirely nonsensical when it is about feudal aristocrats in a society based around a highly militarized warrior culture, for women who want to wield authority in that culture, and completely at odds with the source text. it sucks straight ass. but then the rhaenicent ship fandom picks up on this literal worst aspect of the show (and again, thank god, it's not like the show is consistent with it - rhaenyra in s2 at least comes to be really committed to human sacrifice to get more dragon war machines - and in all the places where this extremely irritating thread doesn't show up we get some interesting and messy material in this area) and is like we loooooove it.
anyway back to xena! how refreshing in this extremely gay show that it's all about how xena has a violent past in war she was an extremely active agent in. and yes she regrets it now and wants to make amends, but there is not hint that this is because she is returning to some peaceful feminine nature she was diverted from only by male coercion. and more importantly to me, the only way to make amends is not to absent oneself from power, not renunciation - what is to me dereliction of moral choice that in the framework above is praised as the only moral life path - but to use the power one has been given (being really good at killing people in this instance) to try to protect the weak instead of oppress them. and already the deep moral contradictions and compromises in using power to aid the powerless are immediately apparent, but it's nice to have a show about women who want to finger each other where on no level is the response to those contradictions and compromises in a horrifying quasi-historical fantastical world of pervasive gendered sexual violence somehow "um just hit da bricks and don't worry about it lol! scissoring is the only thing these intelligent and ambitious and socially invested women should concern themselves with, and THIS is lesbian feminism"
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antisnookdog · 2 months ago
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I made a humans are weird pamphlet
[Welcome to Earth!]
Diplomatic Briefing Pamphlet: The Human Species
(For Official Use Only – Do Not Leave in Orbit)
Species Designation: Homo sapiens
Common Names: Humans, Earthlings, Gremlins with God Complexes
Status: Emotionally volatile. Excessively curious. Terminally dramatic.
Threat Level: Vibes-based. Somehow both harmless and extremely dangerous.
1. General Overview
Humans are a carbon-based bipedal species that developed intelligence, opposable thumbs, and the alarming tendency to either love or destroy everything they encounter.
They are fueled by caffeine, spite, and memes.
Despite their fragile physiology, humans are incredibly persistent. If an environment is considered “inhospitable,” a human will attempt to live there for fun or content.
2. Cultural Duality
Humanity exists in a state of constant contradiction. Examples include:
Dark Side Wholesome Side
Warhammer 40k Stardew Valley
Doom Eternal Animal Crossing
Final Destination Pride and Prejudice
The Crusades Bake-Off Competitions
Exploiting labor via colonial empires Adopting stray animals and crying
They are simultaneously writing love poems and building orbital death platforms. Proceed accordingly.
3. Violence (See Also: Sports)
Humans made rules about how to be less evil during war, then immediately violated them. These are called the Geneva Conventions.
They also made sports out of fighting each other for trophies, fame, or vibes.
Favorite pastimes include:
• Beating each other senseless in a cage
• Running at 40 km/h for fun
• Climbing lethal mountains
• Jumping out of flying machines
Note: They will say it’s “for the experience.”
4. Denial Reflex
Even in the face of literal interstellar beings landing on their lawns, many humans will:
• Claim it’s CGI
• Blame the government
• Insist it’s demons
• Ask for merch
They evolved this reflex to avoid existential crises and somehow made it a cultural cornerstone.
5. Reproduction & Romance (Warning: NSFW)
Human mating behavior is chaotic and often ritualized via elaborate apps, confusing signals, and courtship dances involving memes. They:
• Invented robots for companionship
• Wrote fanfiction about everything
• Made “tentacle romance” a genre
• Occasionally attempt to seduce supernatural entities
Proceed with caution and boundaries. Consent is important. They learned that… eventually.
6. History (Not for the faint of core)
Earth’s timeline is packed with:
• Empires built on slavery
• Religious wars over metaphysical real estate
• Repeated cycles of “oops, genocide”
• Philosophers who were also warlords
• Burning witches. And books. Sometimes both.
They also recorded these events, dramatized them in film, and won awards.
7. Interaction Tips
• If a human offers you food, accept it. Then ask if it’s poisonous. Sometimes it is. They eat it anyway.
• Avoid debates unless you have 6 hours to spare and a tolerance for shouting.
• They will name you. Prepare to be called “Steve” or “Gary.”
• Do not show fear. They can smell it.
• Show them a shiny rock and they might worship it or mine it. Possibly both.
8. Warning List
DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE:
• Mention their oceans. Even they don’t go down there anymore.
• Bring up Australia without mental prep.
• Assume they’re peaceful just because they’re smiling.
• Take them to space before explaining that aliens exist.
• Say “Warhammer is real.” Some believe it already.
Final Summary:
Humans are unpredictable, violent, hilarious, empathetic, and incredibly weird.
They’ll destroy a planet for oil and then cry over a 2-minute animal rescue video.
They are terrifying and lovable, like if a raccoon had a PhD and nuclear codes.
We recommend extreme caution, cultural immersion, and bringing snacks.
Issued by:
GCIR – Department of Chaotic Species Affairs
Document: Earth-001-HowToHuman (Rev. 2.0 – Updated after Florida Incident)
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krispykreme1997 · 3 months ago
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hi! hello! salutations!
welcome to my blog. i'm not sure why you're here. here's some info about me.
name(s): Kris, Alex, Nyx, Melancholy, Basil, Aradia, Inky, Mint
pronouns: they/them
labels: nonbinary, panromantic, demiaroace (i think anyway)
age:
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what you can expect from my blog: shitposts, deltarune fanart, lots of fandom stuff, reblogs of my frens :3
music: Toby Fox, Tally Hall, Lemon Demon, Will Wood (and the Tapeworms), femtanyl, My Chemical Romance, Danny Gonzalez, Vocaloid/Utaloid (especially Miku and Teto), and iDKHOW
fandoms: Deltarune (the Big One), Undertale, Studio Investigrave, ENA, Arcane, KPDH, Homestuck (unfortunately), TADC, Gaslight District, Gravity Falls, a bunch of manga and anime i haven't finished, Ongezellig, Hazbin/Helluva (Sallie Mae is my wife guys trust), Omori, Sally Face, Little Nightmares, DDLC, Markiplier, Far-Fetched, Death Note, and Sousou No Frieren.
FAQ:
Q: "Are you making new doughnuts?"
A: yes. always.
anyway i really like Kris Deltarune and Mettaton, you will see me fantheying about them constantly so beware.
self-proclaimed World's Most Annoying Kriselle Shipper (but i'm chill with Krusie, Kerdly, Krusielle, Suselle, ect. too)
i make art sometimes!
i have a YouTube channel, but you can only find it if destiny so wills (or if i tell you).
i don't really have any DNIs, just don't be an asshole.
i have anon asks on for a reason, send me poetic, heartfelt love confessions or pure unbridled messages of hatred.
my evil alter ego: @evil-krispykreme1997
cringe culture is dead x3
i believe in the next coming of our lord and savior Bill Cipher (/j obviously)
I AM AGAINST ALL FORMS OF GENERATIVE AI.
current favorite song:
youtube
i think that's about it! enjoy my dumb content :D
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DO NOT SEND CHAIN OR DONATION ASKS
for more info go to: krispykreme1997 • Pronouns.page
random stuff under cut (eyestrain warning)
Hi my name is KrispyKreme1997 and I have short brown fluffy hair (that’s not how I got my name) and dead inside green eyes like trampled August grass and a lot of people tell me I look like Kris Dreemurr (AN: if u don’t know who they are get da hell out of here!). I’m not related to Will Wood but I wish I was because he’s majorly fucking cool. I’m a human but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin. I’m also a nerd, and I use a stupid website called Tumblr where I've been for just about a year (I’m a minor). I’m an emo (in case you couldn’t tell) and I wear mostly black. I love Hot Topic and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a black hoodie with black pants and black nail polish, black socks and black boots. I was wearing mango-flavored ChapStick, yesterday's black eyeliner and I had dark eyebags because I never sleep. I was walking outside. It was raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. No one stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.
(this is referencing the My Immortal fanfiction for those unaware)
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^ by @ashleiiii-the-trans-sapphie <3
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my wife ^
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