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urbeachboy · 2 days ago

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O1 — World’s Best Detective ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

⋆˙⟡ — synopsis : you take up a co-worker’s shift, nearly get stabbed, and Red Robin’s losing his flair.

⋆˙⟡ — content : gn reader, violence, mugging, threatening, attempts at sexual assault, alcohol, knives, someone’s wrist is broken and depicted a bit vividly, i attempt (miserably so) to write accents, gotham. . .

Gotham is a hell-hole.

It isn’t like you weren’t aware of it, for you were, and anyone else (especially your family members) was also aware of it. And they’d tried to warn you, they always tried to warn you. Warn you of the supervillains that invoke a sense of incredulity (seriously- what’s a ‘condiment king’?), and superheroes who surpass them in that very field.

But it was cheap, and it was - well.. sufficient. Though there’s cobwebs in the corners of your apartment, it’s.. sufficient. You’ll clean it up- you’ll manage- it’ll suffice. As a matter of fact, the mess and the grime and the several health code violations isn’t quite the biggest issue, which says a ton.

It’s the crime rates. You’ve gotten past getting mugged five times, kidnapped two and assaulted six. It’s almost impressive, considering it has been no more than a fortnight and you almost always stick to a crowd, and refrain from going out past 12. Goodness, it’s like you’re a teenager all over again.

Thankfully, you’ve avoided danger almost completely so far. There’s no reason you would’ve gotten caught in the spider’s web- you’re a fly that sticks to its business. You get up at seven in the morning, eat the fastest breakfast you can, go to your classes (you're in Gotham Uni; the only reason you’re here), work your part-time at the local coffee shop, go home as quick as you can after clocking out, collapse in your bed, repeat. Bathing is fitted in there somewhere, too.

See, yesterday, one of your co-workers, Elise, had asked for you to take over her shift.

She’d approached you yesterday afternoon when you were wiping a bead of sweat away from your forehead (Gotham was especially humid in summer- figures, with it being New Jersey and all). She had sauntered up to you with all the suaveness of a siamese cat, with her dark hair done into a high ponytail.

Elise called out to you when she was barely a few feet away, a smile gracing her lips. “Could you do a favour for me, please?”

You quirked an eyebrow, but just before you could have parted your lips to ask, she was quick to speak over you. “You know, I’m asking you this because you’re like, the nicest person here. Honestly, you’re the only one I can talk to, haha! I know you’ll understand.”

You weren't gonna understand. Not when it's Elise--she's somewhat infamous round the workplace for her... behaviour.

Then, you were tempted to respond with a sharp ‘what do you want, Elise?’ and that’s just what you went to do until, despite yourself, you change it up last-second. “What is it?” you end up saying, and it sounds much more polite than you’d have liked it to sound. Your reputation precedes you, you think.

“Well,” she leaned back against the counter. There weren’t many customers then, most people were at work or school, so you had a little moment of respite. “It’s my sister’s wedding tomorrow,” you don’t recall her ever mentioning a sister before, “and I was thinking maybe you could take my shift for me?” Tough luck. “Just for tomorrow, I promise. I won’t bother you about anything after that.”

It’s a horribly difficult decision to make (note the sarcasm), but with great effort, you open your mouth to deny her request when she cuts you off. Again. “I knew you would, sweetie! Thanks!” And she’s gone.

So you had taken her shift- it’d be a one-time thing. It’d be fine.

Though, unexpectedly, it'd been especially busy today and you seemed to have completely zoned out while making coffee after coffee that, when all the customers are satisfied and have left, you drag your weary eyes up to the window and see darkness. You do a double-take-- still darkness.

You’re late.

It’s 12:30, you see it when you glance at the quaint clock on the pastel-coloured wall. It’s 12:30, and, looking out the window once more, it’s sans any life. You can hear a few strays howling, but that’s about it.

You may have called yourself paranoid in any other situation, but right now? In Gotham? You’re not taking those chances. You weren’t taking those chances, you had been avoiding those chances like the Black Plague but now the chances are shoved into your open palms very so generously.

Yes, there are vigilantes, a plethora of them- but you’re not sure if you trust your well-being in the hands of these mysterious masked individuals who go by strange aliases. Red Hood? Seriously? Maybe he’ll have a dainty little basket, too, on his dainty little self. Maybe he’ll give you a loaf of bread and a pot of butter or whatever it is that Little Red Riding Hood was taking to her grandma if you ask nice enough.

So, your distrust towards vigilantes aside, now you’re in a dilemma- you’re certainly not staying the night at the café, it’ll get you fired for sure. And even if it doesn’t, what would you tell them? That you were far too chicken to walk home because it’s past 12:00? They’re locals, lived here for years. You’re clearly not.

In the end, after a few more minutes of contemplating, you picked up your bag, holding it close to yourself while your eyes flicker up to the clock once more- 12:40. Okay. You can do this, no big deal- you’re an adult.

Walking out the café’s door on wobbly legs, you’re shrouded by the darkness. The moon barely aids you, meagre light shining down on you from the great crescent in the sky. It’s thankfully just enough to see, and while you could take out your phone’s flashlight, you don’t want to risk grabbing any unwanted attention.

The streets are, for the most part, empty—save for the few pigeons or stray dogs that you see in the alleys—which is unusual for these parts of Gotham.

Then, you hear it- a loud ‘clang!’. Like metal.

Instinctively, your head whips around only to find that it’s.. a cat. A calico, barely anything save a kitten, messing around atop some trash can.

You’re not sure what compels you then, but like an idiot, you take a final glance around and, upon reconfirming that the streets are vacant of people, you inch towards the cat.

“Hey, kitty,” you coo, slowly reaching a hand out once you’re in the alley. It’s not that far from the road, you’re barely halfway in the alley, only just outside it for the cat. The calico reacts positively to your approach, letting out a small ‘meow’ and nuzzling its nose into your palm. You could’ve melted then and there. It’s evident, really, from how you continue to blabber sweet nothings underneath your breath, barely on the brink of squealing because the little thing just seems to revel in your affection.

It seems alone. You wonder where its mother is. It’s mewls sound pitched, and it’s definitely supposed to be feeding still. You can’t help but feel pity as you take in the orange splotches of colour on the otherwise black and white cat, and it’s blue eyes. Suddenly, in the midst of your discerning, it jumps off the trash can and hurriedly rushes away. “..What was that all about?” you mumble to yourself.

Footsteps catch your attention. Your eyes shoot up from the ground and dread fills you. You’d forgotten your rule. It should’ve been well past 12:00 now, and you’re in immediate danger.

Sparing a glance to the cat who was now trotting away, you almost wish you could’ve blamed it on the animal, but you’re very well aware whose fault it is that you’re about to get murdered.

“Hey,” a man calls out. He’s imposing, and he’s got grizzly brown hair and mutton chops. He’s wearing a worn T-shirt and some jeans, and his voice? God, his voice. It’s gruff and heavy and unsettling- it makes you feel unsteady, as though your knees are about to give out. You don’t dare respond. Instead, you decide to do the next best thing.

You pick flight over fight, and you flee. Or at least, you attempt to. It was almost embarrassing how fast his hands wrapped around your wrists, and even more so how you tried to wretch your hands away to absolutely no avail. It barely registers in your head, but he’s cussing at you, mumbling, something about calming down. Like hell you’re going to calm down. No, in fact, you may have the survival instincts of a fawn, but hell if you’re calming down. Instead, you scream- as loud as you can, at the top of your lungs, when he cuts it short by placing his palm over your mouth, positioned meticulously so you wouldn’t be able to bite down on him as much as you’d liked to.

You thrash and flail, and he lowers himself down to your ear. “Listen here, babe. Yer’ gunna give me yer’ cash, or ah’m gunna take somethin’ else.” He has an accent, and you’re not sure what kind (though you’re not very eager to find out), but it’s thick as a bush. More than his accent, though, you fixate on his words- you know sure as gravity what he's talking about. What he’s insinuating. You want to gag- you feel the bile travelling up your throat, but you swallow it back down, tears pricking at the ducts of your eyes. With how loud you screamed, you’re sure some vigilante must’ve heard you, but alas, nobody comes hither.

It’s stupid, you’re aware, but you can’t think of anything else. Spite and disgust and hatred and adrenaline, all at once, fill up your being and you shake your head, thrashing about some more. Writhing, squirming, wriggling, anything. You kick your legs back, aiming for his feet, but you stop when he holds his other hand up to your neck. He leaves his hands free, and noting this, you’re about to use them to fight back- but you stop cold in your tracks.

You stop. You stop when you realise he’s holding something in his hand. It glints under the moonlight, and you realise it’s exactly what you feared- a knife. Far from dull. The exact opposite, really. And it’s held up to your rushing pulse, threatening to draw blood.

You’re not sure what to do anymore. You need to pay your rent, you’re barely hanging on by a thread. You’re also not giving up your dignity- you’re also not going to die. The safest option is your money. Slowly, you raise your shaking arms into the air, as if to surrender. “Good,” he drawls. When he removes his hand from your mouth, you can smell it- the sickening stench of alcohol. Of-course he’s drunk. It’s likely why he’s so bold.

Just as you’re about to reach for your wallet, your aggressor jolts.

“What the fu—” His knife is knocked out of his hand, and his hand? Oh, his poor hand. You hear a very discernible ‘crack!’ paired with a scream from him as his hand is twisted into a position that isn’t remotely human. There’s a hand on his wrist, his assaulter- they’re clad in black leather (or some other sort of shiny, smooth material) gloves, and you follow it up to their arm (red sleeves), and their neck, and then their face. You glance down at their chest- and lo and behold; Red Robin.

He’s just like you’ve heard (or like how you’ve seen from the few blurry, low-quality videos that made it onto the news time again), his black hair parting at the centre, forming a sort of arch. Ah- wait, right. You’re not supposed to be dwelling on his appearance- not when your perpetrator is in immense pain. You almost want to cheer for the vigilante, but you hold back.

“Drop the knife,” he says to the man, his voice seeming far too familiar. Though you haven’t heard Red Robin before. His voice is near boyish, and though he’s younger than you assumed, he seems far from a teenager.

Backing up slowly, you’re unsure what exactly to do. So instead, you lean against a wall of the alley, trying to compose yourself, trying to get your breathing to slow down because you’re not sure when all the oxygen entering your lungs started to become too much, too fast. You trail a hand up to your chest, and you close your eyes and focus and, sure enough, your heart is beating at the speed of a Jackrabbit’s. It was understandable, to you, at least. Because, oh my god, he just broke that guy’s wrist. Holy shit.

You try to focus on anything else but your nerves, eyes landing on Red Robin and your assailant (you’re not certain how many words you’ve used for him by now). The latter is scrambling to apologise, the knife on the floor and one of his hands holding the other (which was limp by now. Your wrist feels like it’s faintly aching too, merely at the sight). He’s shaken, and you’re sure you would’ve been, too, if your wrist was snapped in half like nothing.

You can’t register what any of them are saying. It’s not that you’re far away, no, you’re close enough. But all the words are slurring together in your mind and you can’t bring yourself to focus. You see Red Robin nod his head towards the streets after a while, and your assailant hurriedly rushes off, leaving his knife there on the ground. The vigilante in red picks it up promptly, observing it for any stains and stashing it away in his utility belt. Then, his gaze is drawn to you from beneath the mask.

You always thought the masks were odd. Especially when you could see half their faces- save for Batman, of course. He says something, and you can hear his lips move, but it’s all Greek to you when it comes out. Then, his brows knit together the slightest bit in concern, and he takes a step forward. You can hear it now. “You okay?”

You nod. It’s almost embarrassing, the amount you’re shaking. But he doesn’t seem to judge you. Thank god for that, even if you’re not sure why you assumed he would. You almost had your neck sliced in half as if it were a watermelon in a game of Fruit Ninja.

Then you stare at Red Robin. You really stare at him. You squint your eyes, falling over his frame. His voice was familiar, you recalled telling yourself that not a few minutes ago. But why? Was it just one of those voices? It wasn’t. You realised it when you looked at his hair again. Black, silky locks that fell in waves, an arch formed at the centre. Holy shit. Holy shit. No, no it’s not. It’s not.

No, it so is. So you tell him, you tell him like it is. Or like you think it is, at least.

“You’re Tim drake.” It comes out breathy, like a gasp. Like you don’t believe yourself.

Then you stare at him some more. Because he’s doing the exact same thing, staring at you like you’d said something obscene, like you were from another planet or all your teeth had fallen out. His nose scrunched up only for a second, before a small snicker escaped him. Like he’d forgotten himself. His facade.

“I’m Red Robin.” It was confident, clear, crisp- every syllable. He knew who he was, he was self-assured. You almost doubted yourself, just for a second. But with you, instinct was always stronger than wit.

“Yeah, but—”

“It’s late. Do you need me to walk you home? Looked a bit dazed earlier,” he cut you off with the beginnings of a smile on his lips, acting like he didn’t even hear you. Which, yes, you started quite softly, but you’re sure he was close enough to hear.

You narrow your eyes. Ultimately, you decided it’d be best not to budge. There’s shivers that wrack your spine as images of that man’s twisted wrist invade your head. That could be your neck. No.

The bats and the birds don’t kill. The bats and the birds are, however, not above beating you to a pulp so much so that you wished that they kill. And then maybe they’ll leave you at some dingy hospital.

Slowly, you nod your head, moving up and off the wall you were slumped against previously. He smiled. It seemed so genuine, but you’re certain it’s not.

“Lead the way, then.”

⋆˙⟡ — a/n : i’m sososo sorry it took this longggg :( been a bit busy and also writer’s block hit HARD <//3 but i’ve prevailed !! 2nd chapter soon !!

. fin ˗ˏˋ ᯓᡣ𐭩

#batfamily #dc #batfam #batman #dc batman #detective comics #batfamily x reader #dc x reader #tim drake #red robin #red robin x reader #tim drake x reader

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sapphicides · 13 hours ago

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call me crazy or gay but i genuinely think the writers, directors, and hell, even the actors knew what they were doing when it came to how they portrayed shauna and jackie's relationship in the pilot. watching it for the first time, i went in completely blind, with no exposure to the fandom, the ships, or anything beyond the core premise of "a group of teenage girls get stuck in a nightmarish lord of the flies/lost scenario after a plane crash and do crazy shit to survive." i fully anticipated any romance in this show, if at all, to be straight. yet i still saw how they established shauna and jackie and immediately thought "my god, these bitches are gay"

from the very first scene we see of jackie (almost) by herself being her faking an orgasm with jeff, clearly implying that she's disinterested in her own boyfriend, to the very first scene we see of shauna and jackie alone together starting with this rom-com esque image of jackie stepping out of her house while music plays in the background and shauna goes from resting bitch face to all smiles

from the longing stares they give each other in their school gym, to shauna responding to tai's "freeze allie out" proposal simply with, "jackie wouldn't like it"

from the scene of shauna dressing with jackie in her room before the party, her snapping at jackie when she merely suggests that shauna sleep with randy and jackie looking genuinely hurt and apologetic by it, to the infamous party scene where shauna looks on at jackie and jeff longingly– except, she's only really looking at jackie, because the entire shot is framed around jackie. for the majority of that scene, jeff is barely even in frame, a faded blur in the background, until he puts his arms around jackie and physically puts himself in shauna's line of vision

the way she immediately takes a pained sip of her beer after

the way she turns around to randy flirting with her, only to turn away with a look of disgust on her face (just like how jackie looked disgusted during jeff's attempt at getting her off)

the way she can't pull her eyes off jackie even when jeff is dropping them off, even when she knows she's about to fuck her boyfriend once she's gone

the way she says goodbye to jackie, tells her she loves her, and jackie doesn't say it back, so she asks jeff to say it to her when they have sex

the show sets up their dynamic to be one that feels inherently romantic to first-time viewers, only to flip it on its head when its reveled that shauna's true interest is in... jeff. she's really in love with jeff? the guy who's face we see maybe a couple of times total, that jeff? the guy who's basically a background character the entire episode, that jeff? yeah, i don't buy it

you could argue that the show places so much emphasis on jackie because it's trying to convey that the affair is eating away at shauna. to some extent, i agree with this, but i really doubt that it's only this. it would explain shauna's snappy and, at times, cagey behavior around jackie, but it doesn't explain the way that jackie is framed by the camera, music, or even some of the writing choices. whenever we see jackie through shauna's eyes, the camera is always focused directly on her, often times with her face illuminated brighter than anyone else. the music that plays behind her is shauna's kind of music (both supernova by liz phair, which shauna chooses to listen to in her car's tape deck, and miss world by hole, which undeniably fits her grungey music taste). she's joined at the hip with shauna, even in scenes where she's with jeff– seriously, there's only one scene where she's completely alone with jeff without shauna, and it's that one. and the same goes for shauna

for the entirety of the pilot, they are in a constant state of push and pull with each other, almost all of their actions being dependent on one another. jeff feels like a plot device at best, a character designed to come between them and to be thrown away once they realize who each other's real love interest is. even upon several rewatches, it still feels this way. even in the adult timeline, it still feels this way. we barely see adult jeff, but we feel both jackie's literal absence and her metaphorical presence in the form of shauna's collection of porcelain bunnies

there is so much foreshadowing and detail packed into the pilot that i have a really hard believing that this was just an oversight or mishandling of their relationship on the show's part. do i think there's going to be any kind of big love confession from shauna any time soon? no. but do i think they intentionally laid the groundwork for her to realize the feelings she had for jackie at some point? yes, i really do

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bluespiritshonour · 2 days ago

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Another day, another “Zuko hates Mai's core personality that is apathy lmao he was straight up lying about liking her being gloomy” I'm so fucking tired.

Saying Mai's core personality is apathy is a fundamental misunderstanding of her character anyways.

But with each passing day I hate the writers of The Beach for having Zuko yell at Mai for it. I might think it's because he wants what's best for her. But I honestly can't bring myself to contradict people who read it as “Zuko's in denial, he's passionate and Mai doesn't match his energy” ugh.

I hate the writers so much for that.

Mai doesn't break up with him for his jealousy. She doesn't even take it seriously. She breaks up with him immediately after the “big blah” comment. The fact that Zuko never comforts her for that specific thing either💀 you can see that she's hurt and confused and he's the last person she expected to tell her that.

I was on the fence about The Beach because it might be maiko at their lowest but it's also the only ep that focuses on Mai and has Zuko focus on her (no matter how oblique). But now I hate it completely.

They'll do anything but have Zuko support or comfort Mai in any way possible.

The moment you pair up a girl with a fan favourite male character you know the takes are gonna be rancid. You should write them well to avoid it but nooooooooooooooooo. If they weren't that invested they shouldn't have made Maiko endgame. At least Mai fans would be at peace rn without all the hate she gets.

I hate how The Beach is the only ep I have to turn to when I want to say that “Zuko pays attention to what Mai has to say” “Zuko wants Mai to not bottle up her feelings” But it's also the ep that gives antis the most ammo.

On a side note: shout-out Castlevania:Nocturne writers for shutting any possible avenues that could lead to Annette hate. I'm sure she still has haters—but their arguments are going to be too stupid to engage with. I wouldn't have to sit here and silently fume at another one of my favourite female characters getting dunked on because the writers fucking allowed it.

#atla critical #but pro maiko #because i get the point of the beach #zuko wants mai to be more open #because he wants what's good for her and not because “he has a kink for passionate people” argument that gets thrown around #but the beach sure had a shitty way of showing ig #ugh

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seireitonin · 3 days ago

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Ugly

(A not so short part from my comic I’m writing called False Miracles (ft Sebastia and Toby.) Also an angsty part I can’t help myself sorry!

Also spoilers for the comic obviously

Sebastia is curled up in the corner, head resting on the wall. Another day, another fight. Ever since Toby “found her” in the cabin, they’ve been stationed together and fighting. Some days it’s about when they first met which was also the first time they physically fought. Other days, it’s about how annoying Toby finds her because of how untrusting and accusatory Sebastia is. She’s constantly accusing him of wanting to harm her, him backstabbing her, him doing horrible things to her.

Not that Sebastia can control it that much. Miracle is constantly in her head, feeding her these ideas about Toby and everyone else around her. But even if that wasn’t the case, Sebastia is anxious and unstable. Unable to remove herself from her traumatized survivor mindset. Never relaxing, never opening up. Especially to a man.

“Why are you such a bitch all the time?!” Toby glares at her. “We can’t go two hours without you accusing me of something or you breaking down completely!

“Don’t call me that! It’s not my fault I don’t trust you! I hardly even know you or your intentions! You expect me to just trust you, a killer, a dangerous man with open arms and mind?! I don’t think so!”

“We fought once! Since then i haven’t given you a single reason not to trust me! You’re always flinching and jumping if I even breathe around you! It’s so fucking annoying!”

“Once is all it takes! You buried your hatchet in my shoulder without a second thought! You think I can trust someone like that?! Trust a man like that?! That will hurt someone like it’s as easy as breathing air?!”

“I found you covered in other people’s blood…don’t think you’re better than me! Don’t sit there like you’re a saint!”

“No…I’m not like you. Don’t you ever…compare me to you.”

Sebastia stands up. She’s not confrontational. Far from it. However, Toby comparing them to each other….Sebastia takes being compared to a violent man an insult.

“I did what I had to do to survive. To live. You just do it because you’re mindless and violent!”

Toby let’s put a dry chuckle and starts laughing at her words. Like he finds this whole thing amusing, like he’s not taking her seriously.

“Funny. That’s exactly what I said when I killed my first person.”

Sebastia gasps.

Toby mocks his past mindset and Sebastias current one with his words “Oh, I’m not a bad person! I just did what I had to do to be free! I had to end this persons life to stop the torture they put me through! That doesn’t make me a bad person!”

He runs his hand through his hair, laughing and shaking his head and continues to speak.

“Is that how you’re justifying it? That how you sleep at night?”

He walks towards Sebastia, eyes wide, crazed and smiling. As if this conversation was bringing up memories that were too much for his mind to handle as well. He keeps walking towards her and she keeps backing up, looking at him with eyes full of fear, until her back hits a wall and she’s trapped between the wall and Toby.

“Guess what, Sebastia?” He looks directly into her eyes, a very serious and cold look on his face. More serious than Sebastia has ever seen him, even when they had their first physical fight.

“Every person you kill, regardless of whether they hurt you or not…is a person whose family is never gonna see them again. Every person you kill, leaves behind a pool of blood, guilty or innocent. Doesn’t matter. Every person you kill..weighs on you. Someone like you who tries to convince herself she’s…moral.”

He continued.

“Your reasons don’t really matter do they? You still killed. You’re a violent girl who did a violent thing and is trying to convince herself otherwise.”

“N-no that’s not…that’s not true!” Sebastia’s voice shook as she spoke, shock and fear plaguing it.

“Oh? No? You say don’t compare us…but you have a monster that puts voices in your head, telling you who to attack. Who to kill. What I have with Slenderman. You have with your “Miracle.” And you wanna sit there and say we’re nothing alike? You’re stupid and delusional.” Toby’s words drip with venom.

“You’re trying to fight Miracle off? Keep it suppressed?”

Toby talks like he’s experienced this first hand.

“How many more breakdowns? How many more violent urges? How many more words does it need to put inside your head? Till it breaks you down and you just give in?”

Toby whispers in Sebastia’s ear.

“And end up just like me?”

Sebastia stands there in shock and confusion, emotions of every kind swirling in her. Until she just can’t take it. She doesn’t know what to say or do.

“Kill him” Miracle spoke in her head. And that’s all the guidance she needed.

Miracles mouths bursts out of Sebastia’s head, splattering blood all over the walls, on Toby’s face, and down Sebastia’s. The sharp teeth and red eyes following.

Miracles mouths slam Toby on the wall.

“I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU!”

Sebastia screams at him over and over with Miracles voice along side hers.

“Not long before you gave in huh?”

Sebastia not in her right mind just breaths heavily and glares, Miracle, wrapping around him, ready to rip him to pieces.

“Kill me and you know the consequences. Use your brain and not Miracles for once!” Toby yells at her, frustrated and angry but not scared.

“We gotta…stop…” Sebastia’s voice shook but she was telling Miracle to not kill Toby. “Need him….alive… can’t be…normal….without him…”

Sebastia starts to suppress Miracle, much to its disagreement.

Miracle reluctantly goes back to Sebastia and back inside her, Sebastia’s normal form returning as she sits on the bed, blood still trailing down her with a blank empty stare.

“I’m…”

Toby looks at her waiting to see what she’ll say.

“I’m sorry…Toby.”

Toby’s eyes widen a bit. Surprised. She has never ever apologized to him.

“I’m so sorry……” Sebastia puts her face in her hands letting out small sobs.

For the first time, Toby is shocked. Apologizing? Crying? What is this?

“You’re right…I’m a violent thing..an ugly, violent, thing!”

She can’t stop sobbing. Like the strength she’s had to uphold for months just crumbled at Toby’s words.

Toby has trouble feeling empathy. For anything or anyone. Usually his first reaction would be to laugh. But the sight of Sebastia crying brought something out of him. A distant memory he can’t place.

He sits beside her on the bed. Leaving room between them, knowing she doesn’t like to be touched by men.

“I never said ugly. I never said thing.”

He looks her, her head still in her pitch black hands.

“Yeah I definitely called you ugly in the past but I’m a dick so….take that with a grain of salt.” That was his way of apologizing.

“Uh…look…I…we’re traveling all this way to help you fix this right? Make you normal again? There’s still a chance you’re not like this forever. Unlike me. So…”

“What if I am? What if…I’m ugly forever?” Sebastia holds back sobs and looks at him to talk.

“Then if you have to stay with everyone…. if you really can’t go back…maybe me and you can finally learn to have a conversation without fighting. Plus you…you’re not ugly. I’ve seen some ugly stuff and…you’re just not that. Despite what I’ve said.”

Sebastia calms down eyes still a bit puffy, blood and tears staining her face.

They look at each other. Both of them have deep dark circles. Sebastia’s blood still staining Toby’s face.

“This…this is gonna sound…so weird….but…”

Toby looks at her and waits for her to finish.

“I wish I could hug you right now…”

Toby’s eyes widen just for a second. She’s full of surprises tonight. Neither of them being touched gently in months maybe for Toby, years, it didn’t sound like a bad idea.

“Yeah……me too.”

#creepypasta #creepypasta hcs #creepypasta characters #creepypasta fandom #seireitonin #creepypasta headcanon #crp #ticci toby #ticci toby headcanons #ticci toby hc #ticcitoby #ticci toby x oc #sebastiacreepypasta #creepypastasebastia #false miracles comic #falsemiracles

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nemesisvortex · 2 years ago

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I have the BEST takes y'all are sleeping on the absolute GEM of a post I made on the "reading at a party" trope like-

I had some sick characterization there

Sometimes my own genius astounds me

#catch me writing pokemon ranger fanfic with an absolutely unhinged protagonist who is castellia city's local ramen cryptid #no I will not elaborate :>#as much as I take my writing completely seriously #sometimes I just wanna sit down and write chaos characters #thats every girls right no cap #fr fr #vortex spiral #one of these days I feel like I'll forget to add the vortex spiral tag on one of my absolute BOMBER rants #and then I will cease to exist.#im funny yall just cant see it XD #/hj

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dazais-guardian-angel · 1 year ago

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Okay, a good amount of time has passed, and after having seen this post by @weretiger-be-my-horse , I've been turning it over and over in my brain going absolutely feral over this concept. I need to expand upon my thoughts on this idea and all the evidence there is pointing towards it, whether that be actual tangible things, or purely strong vibes I have.

First of all, full disclaimer: I did not like the season 5 finale, and how it wrapped up the DoA arc. To say that I "disliked" it is putting it extremely lightly, in fact -- I absolutely hated it, and I am still, to a degree, in disbelief that I actually even watched those 24 minutes with my own two eyes, and that it somehow wasn't a complete fever dream. While I'm not going to go in long-winded detail into all the ways that I feel like the finale almost completely bastardized all of its featured characters and destroyed any and all buildup we've had going on in this arc for 50 some chapters now, because that's not the main point of this post, I will not make any attempt to hide the fact that the theory-crafting I'm about to pose here is partly influenced and prompted by how much I hated the finale, and how much I desperately hope that it will not end up being manga canon. Therefore, if you enjoyed the finale — and that's fine! — and don't want to read any negativity about it, then I would not recommend reading any further (I mean, you've probably already left by this point, which is fair lol), While obviously it's important that I be as objective and unbiased as possible when explaining my thoughts, some of my negative feelings about the writing will be a part of this analysis, even if this isn't going to be a full-blown rant. Just know that if you proceed.

With that out of the way, let me continue.

So. In the aforementioned post, the theory presented is that the anime may be operating on an alternate timeline, and that this will become evident once we read the upcoming October chapter, wherein things will go completely differently post-chapter 110 than they do in the final episode — probably for the worse, with the s5 finale intending to lull us into a false sense of security and make us assume that everything in the manga arc finale will wrap up as smoothly and consequence-freely(? lol) as it did in the anime one. It also suggests that the Fukuchi we see at the very end that sskk are fighting came from the manga timeline, where he won, and that he used the Book to jump to a timeline where he lost, the anime one, proven by the fact that this Fukuchi is wearing a mask with the same design on it as the mask Fukuchi is wearing on the chapter 110 DoA color spread/title page.

First of all, I want to note the fact that it's not just the mask design that's the same: the entire outfit is roughly more or less the same as well. It's not completely 1-to-1, because the anime can never fully match the intricacies of Harukawa's beautiful outfit designs, and the Fukuchi in this scene has the kimono half-off because of the... super saiyan mode he's in, but most all of the main pieces of clothing are there. Any small inaccuracies could also be attributed to the fact that Harukawa probably didn't have this finalized art ready back when this episode was being made, so the animators wouldn't have had the complete design to work off of. But in general, because it's all so similar, I think we can quite confidently say that the ending episode Fukuchi is meant to be the one from this manga art.

Also, people have pointed this out, but it's worth mentioning that the mask Asagiri wore at Anime Expo in July was referencing this Fukuchi. It's not a crucial detail, but it just proves more that Asagiri is a gigantic fucking troll, and that he clearly wanted to draw attention to this Fukuchi design. It's important. He describes the mask here as made in the motif of an ellipses inside a speech bubble... could that perhaps be referencing meta aspects, like the Book?

Next, I want to talk about the even bigger elephant in the room, which to me is the most damning and undeniable piece of evidence there is of the anime operating on a completely separate timeline from the manga:

This Fucking Hand™️

As we all know, in the anime, Fyodor injures his hand when the password input device blows up, and as we all know, this does not happen in the manga. In the last episode, Dazai claims that the final nail in the coffin of his impromptu plan to kill Fyodor relied on this hand injury: because Fyodor couldn't pilot his escape helicopter himself, he would ask one of his Meursault vampires to do it for him, unaware that Bram and thus this vampire was now on the ADA's side, and said vampire could kill him while his guard was down.

Ignoring how utterly stupid and contrived this plan is when you stop and think about it for more than two seconds, the fact of the matter is that something that initially seemed like nothing more than an odd but inconsequential anime original addition ended up snowballing into being the entire reason one of the big bads was brought down. If Fyodor hadn't hurt his hand, he wouldn't have needed another pilot, and so the traitor vampire wouldn't have had an opportunity to get near him and kill him without him expecting it even though said vampire was presumably with him as they were leaving Meursault, and was probably already a traitor by then, so there was plenty opportunity for him to still die. not to mention by Chuuya's hands at literally any time he wanted to, because Chuuya was coherent the whole time. Also there's absolutely no way Dazai could have known exactly what Ranpo would do, no matter how smart he is and how much he trusts him. idk it's fucking dumb, just roll with it. Therefore, putting aside all other variables for now, we can conclude that, on the most basic level, this signifies that no hand wound = no death.

And let me tell you, this hand wound bothers me. It really, really does. Because they focus on it a LOT — they go out of their way to draw attention to it MULTIPLE TIMES, from the moment it first happens to the end of the season. Fyodor even talks about it to himself, about Dazai being able to cause him tangible, visible, bodily harm, (something that, again, as far as we've seen, has never happened in the manga). Hell, even after Fyodor's death, they're still drawing attention to it, because his right arm is all of him that survives, and Dazai picks it up and gives it to Nikolai to do his hilarious sad little gay fondling of it played completely straight even though there's nothing straight going on here at all! It's like it's a big red flashing sign at all times going "you see this injured hand? This is important. Are you picking up that it's important? Are you taking note of it?" Why is that? Obviously, it serves to give us the lore crumbs about Fyodor and "that man", but that's hardly the main, much more glaring reason, as I've already mentioned.

Fyodor doesn't hurt his hand in the manga. Fyodor won't die here in the manga. I am so dead serious by this point about this, and it's not just simply the fact that this was absolutely not at all the time for him to die, or the fact that his hand is the reason for his death in the anime in and of itself, but how much EMPHASIS they place on this, and on the hand in general. What would be the point of adding something like this, if it's not meant to alert us to the fact that it has a major impact on how the story plays out? We all know Bones: they struggle to get right and include everything that's already there in the source material; they would never go out of their way to add something this noteworthy if there wasn't a very good reason for it, if it wasn't absolutely necessary. I've seen a few people bring up the fact that Fyodor gets shot in the shoulder by Sigma and that that could lead to the same outcome in the manga, but I disagree: although he has blood on his shoulder in the manga, it seems like the bullet just grazed the top of it, because his arm and hand appears completely functional afterwards (not hanging limp by his side or anything). But that doesn't even matter, because this isn't even about the semantics/logistics of how the hand wound caused Fyodor's death because again, it's a stupid outcome, or what could serve as a substitute in the manga — thematically, this is a textbook example of the butterfly effect. Countless parallel universes exist within this series, ones where even the most minute differences lead to a majorly different outcome: this just happens to be one of them. There's no reason to think it isn't, and there's no reason to not think that the anime wants us to clue into the fact that things only went as smoothly as they did on the Meursault side because of this wound; in other words, that things will go very differently in the manga thanks to the absence of said wound. They wouldn't have added it in the first place and put such clearly deliberate emphasis on it otherwise.

Things are going to happen very differently in the manga, at least when it comes to the Meursault crew (but then, if you assume that, you then naturally assume it all will be very different). This is the only conclusion one can come to with the presentation of this anime-only wound, combined with the fact that parallel universes are a very real thing in BSD.

I'm going to go on a bit of a tangent, so bear with me. I play a lot of visual novels, and although such concepts aren't really as original now as they were a while ago, some of my favorite and some of the very best VNs out there are the ones that break the fourth wall and make the visual novel branching route format directly intertwined with the story: you know, the ones where the characters go "if only I had done things differently, maybe everything would have turned out better...!" in a wink wink nudge nudge moment, and the ones where the characters are aware of the different timelines, even, or even have the ability to gain information from their selves in said alternate timelines to influence events in their current one (I'm intentionally not naming the games I'm thinking of for the sake of spoilers, but if you know, you know lmao). It gets very meta in this regard, and this is how I started viewing BSD through the lens of ever since I first learned about Beast: like a visual novel with many branching routes, and only a few routes that feel entirely "right".

When I first read Dazai's Entrance Exam, I was struck by how unnerving the ending sequence in the abandoned hospital felt. Obviously, Kunikida's internal struggle over Sasaki's actions and motives is him still desperately clinging to his ideal world that does not exist, but the specific type of phrases he uses — "who is wrong?" "[who is] the cause of all this?" "there has to be an ideal world" "there has to be something, I'm sure of it" "There must have been something we could have done!" — and the framing of the scene in general, is eerily reminiscent of a bad ending in a visual novel, to me. There's a haunting, looming, bleak sense that a different outcome could have been achieved, if different decisions had been made, or if things outside of anyone's control had been different... and we know that this is true, because in Beast alone, Kunikida never goes through the Azure Messenger incident, because Dazai doesn't have his entrance exam. Hell, you could even consider the anime's version of the Azure Messenger arc an alternate timeline in of itself, if you really wanted to, long before we even arrive at season 5.

When it comes to Beast, this timeline has almost the opposite feeling of what I described above, that I've also encountered in visual novels: the idea of a "good route" or "good ending" that still doesn't feel quite earned, or as perfect as one would expect. Beast is presented as the "ideal" timeline purely for one sole reason: Oda is alive. It is the only timeline where he's alive, and keeping Oda alive is the ultimate goal Dazai wants to achieve, the only reason this timeline exists; therefore, disregarding all else, Beast should be the best timeline, because Oda's death is the greatest devastation in the series to date. We all want him to live, so why wouldn't the timeline where he does be the best one? And yet... of course, it isn't. Dazai is alone, and steeped in darkness and loneliness without Oda, and dies by the end of the story for Oda's continued living. Atsushi has Kyouka still, but he's suffering and more traumatized, and unable to heal while stuck in the mafia, and neither can Kyouka. Akutagawa is living a much better life in the ADA... but without his sister, and without what he has from his bond with Atsushi in canon, that isn't replicated in Beast. And Oda... Oda is alive, and he has his children and his novel, but there is a feeling that he is aimless, that something in his life is missing. He has everything he ever wanted, but all that means nothing without what he truly needs: Dazai, and his time with Dazai and Ango at the bar. In this way, things going well and us getting what we want — in this case, Oda living — goes against how it's supposed to be, the natural order, which is why it feels so hollow. In the specific visual novel I'm thinking of here as a comparison (again, shoutout if you know), there's an alternate ending that involves you inputting information you gain at the end of the game very early on in the game, wherein the protagonist now has memories of the future and is able to bypass and prevent all of the events that take place normally. This means that people who die or are hurt somehow in general are saved from that fate, and nothing bad ever occurs; everything wraps up neatly and nicely... but again, there's an undeniable, unsettling feeling of emptiness, of a victory that rings hollow, because what's the point if everything is simply handed to you easily, where's the sense of accomplishment, without any struggles to achieve said victories, or any growth along the way? How can it feel earned if one doesn't have to, in Dazai's words, "scream within the storm of uncertainty, and run with flowing blood"?

You can probably already see where I'm going with this.

This finale feels weird. Really, really weird. It feels too cheap, too simple, too unsatisfying. So much so, in fact, that for almost the entire runtime, as I was bombarded with resolution upon resolution one after another, I kept thinking "There's no way this can be real. Where's the catch? When is the "gotcha!" moment gonna happen? The "it was all a dream" reveal?". And this isn't just because I hated the writing, and that it really did feel like a fever dream watching fanfic levels of bad (actually, that's an insult to fanfic writers, tbh; they could do better) — no, it genuinely feels so incredibly fake. Even upon rewatching it and already knowing what happens, my brain still naturally keeps expecting some kinda of "sike, you THOUGHT!" moment to suddenly appear. It just.... feels "too good to be true". Dazai and Chuuya come out unscathed, and it's revealed that they were never in any real danger to begin with. Fyodor, one of our biggest threats, is dealt with supposedly for good (I say "supposedly" only because of the Jesus line, but if anything imo, I think that's just a hint that this won't be the canon ending in the manga, so in a sense he's going to "come back to life"), and Nikolai seems somewhat at peace with his death. The other biggest threat, Fukuchi, is also dealt with, and he and Fukuzawa get their final moment together of closure. Yes, Sigma is left in Meursault don't even get me started on how angry this alone makes me, and Fukuzawa loses Fukuchi, but overall, everything is portrayed in a positive light, and any negatives or losses are quickly glossed over. Everything is tied up nicely, neatly, and smoothly. ...And that is exactly what makes it feel so wrong, and hard to trust in.

I'm not sure if this will make sense, but to me, the finale is so incredibly poorly written that it almost feels.... intentional. It's so bad to the point of feeling self-aware in how bad it is, how unrealistically happy and convenient an ending it is. It had to end this neatly in order to rush to wrap up this arc for the season finale and not leave the last episode on a cliffhanger — which imo is chiefly the main reason it turned out this way, and, if this whole theory is true, Asagiri just used it to his advantage — and I'm not saying this was probably an effect Bones had in mind intentionally, I'm sure they just threw shit at the wall and went with whatever stuck, maaaaybe with some suggestions/approval from Asagiri, but the result is that you have a conclusion that contradicts so much of what was set up before and goes against so many character arcs, making some characters so out of character and even regressing in their development Dazai. I'm talking about Dazai abandoning Sigma, because he would never; hashtag #NOTMYDAZAI. Also Nikolai, Nikolai for most of that is so ooc I can't even begin to describe it oh my god. Everyone is OOC to a degree though lmao, and opens so many plot holes, to the point that it's impossible not to watch all that and get the feeling that it is subtly saying to you "did you really think it could be this easy? It feels wrong, doesn't it? It doesn't feel satisfying. It feels unearned." I find it incredibly interesting and suspicious in particular that they confirmed multiple theories people had about soukoku in Meursault: that Chuuya slowed the elevator's fall so that Dazai wouldn't die from it, that Chuuya slowed down the bullet so that it only penetrated Dazai's skin and not his skull, and that the both of them used Fyodor's camera angle to their advantage because they knew he wouldn't be able to see certain things from his view. I'm not saying that Asagiri trawled BSD twitter and tumblr after those chapters dropped for the most popular theories before the final episode was made lmao, there was no time for that (imagine though lol—), but I do think it's highly likely that he already had in mind exactly what theories would be made about these parts (I mean, the evidence for the gun scene was all there), and that Dazai rattling them off in his long monologue to Fyodor at the end is essentially him speaking to the audience and going "yeah, that's what you would predict, right? Those are the clichés, after all", much like him suggesting earlier that he can maybe bring Chuuya back to himself with a few moving words and the power of friendship, and Fyodor using the split personalities trope to fool Sigma. We expect these tropes to be true. Of course we'd fall for them, as Fyodor tells Sigma, especially if the evidence is right there. But Asagiri himself has explicitly said that he likes doing the opposite of what people expect. And so just because people predicted correctly with the three things I mentioned in this timeline... doesn't mean they'll be true in the manga's. Things happened how we wanted and expected it to, and everything turned out happily. So we can relax now, right? Everything will work out just as easily in the manga, right? Or... is the reason most of this finale feels so fake and unsettling and unsatisfying because it's meant to lull us into a false sense of security before all our heroes lose in the manga? Because deep down, we don't want an ending that's this simple, because we'd rather have a conclusion where our characters have struggled more and grown more and come out the better for it, and we know it?

After rewatching the episode a lot, and watching some other videos, and doing a lot of thinking, I am pretty confident in suspecting that the only part of this finale that is actually from manga canon, aside from Aya jumping off the building of course, is Fyodor and Nikolai's exchange after Fyodor leaves Meursault — specifically, them talking about Fyodor leaving Sigma behind, and their "new game" and Nikolai being excited at the prospect of it. This little conversation actually feels in character for them, and it's easy to tell this when contrasting it with everything that happens immediately after, wherein Fyodor is fatally stabbed, and Nikolai, completely at odds with what he was just talking about, just... stands there and watches Fyodor die while Dazai monologues lmao. I'm not sure if the helicopter is still a factor, but I would bet good money on Fyolai getting out of Meursault being manga canon, and that Dazai and Chuuya getting out as well and killing Fyodor + everything with FukuFuku, is part of the anime original ending, in order to wrap up everything positively. It makes much more sense if you think about, in reality (aka in the manga), Dazai and Chuuya still being left behind in Meursault (where they can eventually try to get Sigma), because none of it was an act and things did not go according to plan, and Fukuchi having an entirely different goal that doesn't feel so stupid and contradictory to his character, and Fukuzawa possibly dying — everyone seemingly loses, with Aya still being the last hope, perhaps by awakening her ability like we all speculated.

There's a youtuber I watch who covers BSD in-depth, despite being an anime-only (she reads the respective manga content after each season, though). Going into this finale, she knew about the fact that the anime had overtaken the manga, though she didn't know where the cutoff point was; despite that, however, she made predictions about what was from the manga so far and what was anime original, and it was almost entirely spot-on, based mostly on what she basically described as "anime original dialogue." She talked about how you can always tell when dialogue is veering into the realm of anime-original, because the sentences are very short, choppy, and slightly out of character, but generic enough to not be TOO out of character, and so that anyone can easily write said lines, even if they're not extremely familiar with the character like the original author would be. And when I heard this explanation, everything clicked — because so much of this finale has dialogue like that. The Fyolai scenes just feel peppered with it, around the lines I mentioned earlier, the Dazai dialogue does too, and ESPECIALLY shit at the end like Fukuchi and Fukuzawa exchanging the cliche death lines to end all death lines: "Are you there? I'm a little tired." "Rest up." That just isn't Bungou Stray Dogs. That isn't Asagiri. BSD is cheesy at times, yes, but it isn't like this; it's smarter. The dialogue is smarter, the explanations/plot twists are smarter, Asagiri is smarter, and the aforementioned youtuber I watched agreed. She's a pretty casual fan of the series, so if even she could pick up on these things, I think it speaks volumes.

I mentioned this briefly earlier, but this theory makes sense if you consider that this situation probably came about because of Bones wanting two seasons back-to-back when they did, and this arc being as long as it is. Season 3 aired in 2019, and I imagine Bones would have wanted season 4 in 2020, and might have then been willing to wait a bit longer for season 5 in order for more of this arc's manga chapters to come out — but then covid happened. Because of that, season 4 was delayed to 2023, creating the longest gap we've had between seasons, and I wouldn't at all be surprised if the delay made them want season 5 right together with it, after getting so far "behind", so to speak. S4 was announced in November of 2021, and roughly around that time, Asagiri was finishing up writing the plot of the DoA arc. If Bones came to him sometime in late 2021 and said they wanted two seasons now (so basically, one giant two cour season), Asagiri would know that not only of course would this arc not be finished publishing in the manga for a very long time yet, but that roughly 20ish episodes would not be enough to cover it all to the end, with this arc being longer than any arc the anime has adapted to date. Because of all this, and the arc manga chapters being nowhere near fully drawn to completion, he'd have to make a decision about what to do, and what to give Bones. Without ending season 5 on a massive cliffhanger that wouldn't be resolved for years until an eventual season 6, the only other option would be to rush towards an anime-original ending for the DoA arc.... and for Asagiri to take advantage of that, and integrate it into BSD's lore. Thereby creating a truly unique cross-media experience that utilizes the different mediums to create multiple timelines, that could make both the anime and manga interact with each other and become part of a bigger picture (not that you'd need to see both to get the full experience, mind you, just that it'd provide a little bonus if you did).... and would without a doubt be Asagiri's biggest surprise yet.

...I feel like at this point I'm starting to ramble, and my evidence become more and more incoherent and less substantial lmao, so I should probably end this post. 💀 Thank you if you've read this far, and hopefully it made some semblance of sense, despite not being structured very well; I know I promised at the start to try to be as objective as possible and curb my negative feelings, but I'm not sure how well I succeeded in that regard. If it weren't for the Fukuchi thing and the Fyodor hand thing, I probably wouldn't take how wrong and strange and bad the finale feels to me as serious evidence about it being an alternate timeline, especially since I seem to be one of the only people who actually hates all of it.... but combined with everything else, I am just so convinced of this theory being true. It started off as pure copium, but as more time has gone on, I fully, 100% believe in my bones (ha) that there is no way that finale is the same Bungou Stray Dogs I know and love, for so many reasons. It just isn't. It can't be. I know BSD better than this, I know Asagiri better than this, and I know that it's absolutely in the realm of possibility for him to cook up this whole scheme to completely blindside us with in the upcoming chapters, because that's exactly the kind of shit Mr. "Please Be Surprised!" himself would pull. If I end up being completely wrong, I guess I'm wrong, and you can laugh at me all you want then.... but I just know that ages ago people were teasing the idea of the anime operating on a different timeline from the manga, and I truly do think that only now are we finally seeing that idea come to fruition, as a setup for Asagiri going full-bore insanity with the Book in the upcoming arc(s). if I and the OP of that theory end up right, this will be the wildest time in the BSD fandom's history.

Like. I cannot even emphasize how hard they are trolling us at this point. Something is going on. Something is being cooked over there, the likes of which we've never seen before... and I don't think any of us are ready for it.

Oh yeah, and one last thing of note: both Fyodor and Nikolai here have their right arms hidden from view. Is that alluding to anything? I'm not sure. I also think that since chapter 110 was so short, next chapter will likely be 110.5 instead of 111, and if that's the case, this title spread could still technically be associated with the next chapter... wherein we might see this Fukuchi, who ends up wreaking havoc, right before he jumps to the timeline in the anime, as we see him at the end of the s5 finale.

I guess we'll find out on Tuesday.

#bungou stray dogs #meta #bsd season 5 #bsd s5 spoilers #alternatively titled 'when you copium so hard out of stewing in your denial anger and grief that it becomes reality'#is it still copium if there's strong evidence for it? idk #i DON'T know what i'll do if the stuff in this finale ends up being canon :))) make no mistake about that #but until the very moment the schrödinger's cat box is opened and i am forced to acknowledge it with my own two eyes in chapter 111/110.5 #i am choosing to stay calm and rational and look at things with a sound mind... and acknowledge all the signs that are there #of which there are so many #Asagiri is a troll. he has always been a troll and this is more evident than ever lately #and he would know that everyone who watched the finale would take it at face value #never expecting it to go completely differently in the manga #and he's so much smarter than what was in that finale. he would never write those things. i would stake my life on it.#i don't care how many flaws BSD does have that i do acknowledge; he is a good writer in so many ways and he is so much better than /that/#i could fill an entire BOOK (ha ha) with all of the reasons why this finale does not work. seriously it is a never-ending can of worms #of ooc characterizations and plot holes and abandoned threads and straight up CONTRADICTIONS with what has been stated before in the arc #with fukuchi's motivations and presentation; with things that were happening in meursault; just.... so much illogical shit in general #THE MACHINE HEALED THEIR WOUNDS??? ARE YOU FOR REAL????#*sigh* but i said i wasn't gonna rant alskdjgfkdls #tbh though the only REAL thing i need to know that the finale was anime only was what the youtuber i watch pointed out:#that Bram magically regenerated all his clothes. because if it were Asagiri Bram would be naked from the shoulders down fjdkslsaskd #...anyway. This theory is real and true. I am manifesting it into existence 🙏🙏🙏#Asagiri my man...... you have never let me down yet in all the years I've known your series. Please don't let me down now.#I'm trusting in you more than ever right now...... and your ability to blow all our minds in the best possible way #(guys i'm really really really scared deep down; please hold me hahaha ahahahahaaaa- *cries*)#this would the coolest thing in the history of ever though if it happened though. I am SO EXCITED FOR THE POSSIBILITY!!!!!#ASAGIRI YOU SICK AND TWISTED MF; HOW DARE YOU MAKE ME BEG FOR MY FAVES TO SUFFER JUST SO THAT THIS BAD WRITING DOESN'T BECOME REALITY!!!!!!#he knows exactly what he's doing *SCREAMS* :))))))))

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seventh-district · 9 months ago

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not even gonna tag this properly bc i don't wanna get Involved but i do have some Thoughts i need to get out into the void so here we go

(aaa quick edit: CW for mention/discussion of Boothill leaks)

#today's gone Badly and i'm upset but instead of venting abt it i'm gonna channel that energy into doing a bit of tag rambling abt Boothill #well. less abt Him and more abt uh. self-analyzing my anxiety surrounding contributing to fandoms. he's just today's catalyst #like. i know it's mostly a me thing. i'm hypersensitive to criticism and very conflict avoidant + socially anxious + perfectionistic etc.#so I'm the one that keeps myself from posting more stuff out of fear of being criticized or called-out for what i've made #bc inevitably Someone's gonna see it and think its OOC or a problematic take or they'll misread my intent. etc etc what have you #but like. that's inevitable. there's no way to communicate every single thing with all of the nuance required to avoid misunderstandings #and other times it's not a misunderstanding it's just a difference of opinions and that's Fine!! there's no accounting for personal taste #there's no accounting for several things actually. taste‚ bias‚ lore-knowledge‚ differing levels of chronic-online-ness‚ etc #so this isn't me complaining abt the state of fandom culture (although i do think. sometimes. ppl take shit a bit too seriously)#but anyways all of this is mostly just anxiety-fueled. it's not like i very often actually even receive negative feedback or anything #if anything ppl tend to tell me that i'm overthinking it and killing my own fun and worried that my stuff is more OOC than it is #which like. yeah. Yeah u right :) but that's just the way that i am! always losing the idgaf war i suppose #anyways what's Boothill got to do w this ur wondering. well. i've been thinking abt the quickly emerging concept that he's illiterate.#and it just. has me feeling a lot of ways. and watching ppl disagree over it has me feeling some Bad ways. bc it's def a loaded topic!#if you'll pardon the pun there. and i don't rlly have anything new to add other than that i'm conflicted abt it.#like yeah i saw the leaks days ago. of him mentioning 'not hitting the books' much as a child when we ask him why he sends voice messages #or voice Transcriptions ig. ykwim. and like. *braces for impact* ...i liked it? like. it doesn't feel right to call it endearing #i'm not trying to infantilize him. ok that's not the right word either but ugh. you know? what i mean?? who am i kidding even i don't know #it's not quite right to say that it feels like Representation either. but it's something close i guess #as a southern person myself who didn't receive a 'complete' education due to factors that weren't to do with my intelligence #the concept of seeing him as a capable force to be reckoned with and respected who also happens to have not received much formal education #i like that. i do. but there's so many issues w it at the same time. like. as i said‚ being southern myself has me Wary of the way Hoyo is-#writing him. as well as of the way that the fandom is taking the bits of his lore and running away w them. and i'm Very aware of how ppl-#will see a southern character and be All Too Eager to agree that they're lacking intelligence based on our Redneck™ stereotype #sigh. and before we even go too far with this. it's not even confirmed that hes completely illiterate. which is a valid criticism i've seen #there's Multiple reasons that could make him prefer voice to text. but regardless. i'm just worried that ppl will misconstrue my intentions #like. example: that edit i made the other day of him saying 'no thanks i can't read'. wasn't me playing into the stereotype of-#'haha dumb country boy can't read!' it was. in my eyes. something he'd say as a joke to make light of a potential insecurity #like. i think there's far more depth to Boothill's character if ppl could look past the surface. and i dont wanna contribute to the problem #but sometimes ppl Will have stereotypical traits and i wish the same could apply to characters as long as it's done Thoughtfully.

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tardis--dreams · 4 months ago

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Me panicking because i have 9 missed calls and 5 emails talking about my absence and how "a colleague could take over for me" vs. Me knowing it's really not that important no matter how pushy a client is and that on top of it I'm underpaid and have way to much overtime so i shouldn't even care

#i have 14 hours overtime #collected within 2 weeks lol #you know how it's apparently mandatory for companies in germany to have a way track employees working time? yeah we're #the only company in the whole fucking country who doesn't do that (obviously that's not true there's probably plenty more but it's #still not right.) so we don't get paid overtime nor does it get acknowledged in any way #so technically we're not allowed to even it out (which most people try to do anyway because tf do they think they are asking us to work for #free) but I'm dedicated to not collect any more unpaid working hours so i take the liberty to leave work early this week #so today i left at 12pm (and then got home 4 hours later because another person decided to kill themselves by train. they should call me #first. or anyone else taking the train. I'm sure there'd be plenty of volunteers to do the killing if it means not another miserable day #stuck in a disgusting train). and i logged in again at 6pm today to see if i have anything important messages (stupid i know)#and i saw the missed calls and that there had been an email exchange with me in the cc talking about the 'changes' made in one of the #articles and that someone else could do that for me since i couldn't be reached and at first i felt ashamed and scared #but now it's honestly just pissing me off. that asshole can't write emails and communicate requests like normal people can he #he already called me last week about something completely stupid and acts like his matters are the most important shit in the world #fuck you if you can't wait one day you should have sent this a month earlier because i won't stay online everyday #just to see if there might be an 'important' change you want me to make Immediately. bitch.#also missed two calls from my colleague but she didn't send any messages about what she wanted so i asked her because i felt bad for not #being online and turns out she wanted Nothing. just hear how i was. JUST TEXT ME THEN???? I HATE IT HERE FUCK YOU #seriously i don't get paid enough for this to bother me so much. she probably gets 12-15€ more than me per hour #of course she doesn't care about her overtime as much as i do. i get minimum wage which is less than what I'd get if i still worked at uni #as a student assistant so fuck this shit it's really not important or worth it. from now on i'll only put in minimum effort too #sorry got carried away. rant over now i guess #void screams #work stuff

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kirbyddd · 1 year ago

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barkbarkbark Riichi Book I's writing is like screeching chalkboard to my game designer's, translator's, and writer's ears all at once

it's got great concepts buried in there but it's in like the most anti-comprehension packaging conceivable

#what the hell is wrong with you #folks like you are the BANE of game designers everywhere #and game PLAYERS for that matter #THIS is the best strategy reference the English speaking world's got?#baddabingbaddaboom ladies and gentlemen #im about to make bank writing the West's first riichi primer that actually meets the standards of the modern analogue game industry #(which to be honest is abysmal right now the industry's in an insane 'text free' fad right now where every word is replaced with a symbol)#alright then im gonna set the new standard then #imma bout to do for Riichi Mahjong what i did for Ryuutama Traversées 🫸🤛#and for all the dudes at unpub who know how to design incredible games but dont know how to write instructions #alright sorry I'll calm down #but seriously i am gonna start throwing together an actually quality-controlled guide #cause every english resource ive found so far has been like this... inconsistent and full of holes and omissions in explanations #chiba talks about the game's strategic immaturity in the west... well it's got an even bigger gap of educational immaturity #anyways.... I'll toss a bit of effort that way #we'll see how far i take it #I'll either make a few loose articles or a fully fledged book. no in between #god i dont have the energy to make another book when i dont even know if Traversées is ever gonna see the light of day #100% complete full color layout and everything. publishing limbo is real and it's every bit as stupid and unnecessary as you think.#(my case is much simpler than most though cause im only working with two small publishers rather than a big corp)#but still. damn #anyways im so tempted to throw some of my rulebook magic at riichi while it's got my interest #not like i need to write a strategy tome the game just needs a professional quality introduction #don't make me do it i absolutely will do it #i did it for ryuutama when no one wanted to give a decent publication-quality localization for the supplements #and by garriot i will do it for riichi mahjong too if no one gives me a quality guide. i aint afraid of a global high strategy game #<- manic #(im not manic im just extremely restless having not been able to do any solid design work in a while and this book is getting me riled up)#cause it's like “i could write such a more coherent rulebook and HAVE written a more coherent rulebook. so why don't i do it again?”#the Disease is why. but maybe I'll give it a shot anyways if i get a second wind (i guess im otakaze right now harharharhar)

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miqojak · 1 year ago

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#people will cheer about how others should set boundaries and uphold them for their own well-being #until those boundaries prevent them from getting what they want from you #I have to constantly beg people not to use this OC blog as an aesthetic resource blog for their own OC blogs #It's a roleplay blog - which means it is effectively a scrapbook for *my* OC - and a place for people who want to interact with me/my OC #it is NOT a place for complete strangers who have no interest in the OC to come and shop for their OC's aesthetic #but people get SO MAD when you tell them you have this one and only boundary that is 'please don't use me like an object'#is it so much to ask that people who follow an RP blog actually interact with that OC?#why else would you follow an OC's blog if you aren't interested in interacting with them as a character?#anyways it's always a bummer to come across an OC blog I like that has blocked me because I insisted they not use my blog as a resource #just go follow the same resource blogs your favs do if you really don't want to interact with their OC - but you really like their aestheti #if you want to share aes. posts from someone...maybe try sharing their original creations as well so it doesn't feel like you're using them #and it feels like you're actually supporting them AND you like their aesthetic - that's all I've ever asked of people and they get SO mad #when asked to consider that there is a human being behind the screen who doesn't want to be treated like a resource...#- but as a creative/writer who is seeking contacts to do improvisational creative writing with others #the amount of strangers coming to my blog lately not to interact or share my work - but just take the 1-2 aesthetic posts I share is vexing #to all who do share: I love you and I see you and I appreciate you #and I've seriously considered just doing a random gift/giveaway from a pool of people that only consists of you guys #just to give back to the maybe 5 ppl who actually interact with me & others and support them by sharing their original work

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rosemary-bells · 2 years ago

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may be remembering this wrong but that one scene post-five yrs when smj was worrying abt mr not being as considerate to him anymore.

bro u literally cut his heart open. he was probably worried abt the flower not working or smth like that and not like. mr not liking him anymore (didn’t he admit that he didn’t even like mr that much??) but bro. knife. heart. if he doesn’t pay attention to you anymore he has ever y right to do so sir

#buzz #erha #2ha #the husky and his white cat shizun #erha spoilers #2ha spoilers #also when smj was like no one ever understood me. ok they could’ve tried harder but you literally did not give anyone a chance #you did not open up. yes they did not ask you abt things but they didn’t even know you HAD problems. you did not let yourself be vulnerable #which. is honestly completely understandable considering his situation but damn he was pointing fingers #like bro. u r as much at fault as they are when it comes to ur failed relationships. shakes fist #yes ur life didn’t allow for it yes they could’ve been more considerate maybe but like u were not vulnerable. u did not let them see those w #weaknesses. it is not their job to understand u as a person and consider someone who spends so much of his time ensuring that no one ever co #considers him due to Circumstance #i may be remembering this wrong also don’t take me too seriously #it’s like 306am and smj is frustrating me in this fic i’m debating writing so i’m like #spewing my thoughts #i like smj. hate hbn. love their complexity and their goal is as noble as any #do not agree w smj’s methods and disagree w hbn’s Vehemently #also hbn was an arse so there’s that. homeboy was under NO flower influences when he tried what he did. also genocide! lord in heaven #like they r complex characters and i appreciate their writing #i also want to throttle hbn. complexity and a noble goal does not make you any less of an ass #also like that was probably the point of their characters. we don’t see much of smj bcs he doesn’t allow himself for that. we only see hbn’s #cruelties and barely any of his kindnesses save for his dedication to the bbbs.#limited povs are Real. still tho. wanna throttle hbn

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honey-tongued-devil · 2 months ago

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[Arcane preference]reacting to their s/o calling them husband/wife for the first time

I’ve finished the first chapter of the long fic about Universe 7 (Anytime it rains). As soon as my second beta reader gives me the okay, I’ll post it. While I wait, I’ve written the first headcanon (out of three I’m definitely planning to write and post in the next few days) and picked up the drawing of Steb I’d left unfinished. I’m slow, as usual, but English isn’t my first language, and I’m juggling a lot of things at once. Enjoy!

Jayce:

-This man is planning to put a ring on your finger as soon as possible, okay? -Between the academy, public appearances, and both theoretical and practical studies, there isn’t a single moment when he’s really in the right mindset to bring up the topic -The worst part is that, deep down, he’s terrified of putting pressure on you -That’s why, the first time he hears you refer to him as “my husband” during a gala with noble families, he almost chokes -He has to gather all his strength not to grab the interlocutor by the shoulders and ask if they also heard you say that word -He’ll try to keep his composure, maybe responding to your remark with, “Yes, exactly. Her husband really did say/do/design that.”

Viktor:

-It’s not a thought he’s ever really entertained; it never crossed his mind -Part of it is that science is his priority, and part of it is that marriage doesn’t seem like something meant for people like him, -The first time you call him “your husband”, that thought suddenly becomes real in his head, and he can’t help but lean against a wall and wait for the other person to leave -“So, I’m your husband now, huh? Mmm… I don’t mind, a bit pretentious, though…” he jokes, making you roll your eyes -Now, more than ever, he has no idea what to do. He’ll give you a bronze ring from a machine he’s building -“Until I can get one worthy of you.”

Ekko:

-Yes -That’s it -The end -Okay, seriously. The idea of being certain that something will last forever is probably his greatest wish -The first time you call him your husband, he doesn’t see it coming -“Wait, you’re married?” -“I was talking about you, Ekko.” -The moment you say it, he points to his chest, you see his lip tremble slightly, and his eyes grow shinier -He won’t stop talking about it for a week, and at least once a day, he’ll ask if you still want to marry him, if you’re sure, if you love him -No rings before S2; the promise is made by drawing something for each other on your masks and clothes -After S2, he still can’t afford a ring, but now that life is more stable, he can start thinking about a more traditional gift, like a piece of jewelry

Vander:

-This man is ravenous for any family role you might offer him—fiancé, father, husband. Anything goes -The first time you call him “husband”, he plays it cool but will seize the first opportunity to return the favor by telling a customer you’re married -As soon as he can, he’ll squeeze your hand, even under the counter -The idea of being married and having a complete family is everything he’s ever wanted -He won’t stop calling you “my beautiful wife/husband” from that moment on.

-You said it first; you can’t take it back. Now you have to get married

Silco (old man):

-This man’s only sin is loving too much, but I’ll save that reflection for another post -Having no ties other than his illegitimate daughter doesn’t make him someone who’s particularly keen on formalities -The first time you call him “your husband” is in front of Sevika, and he slowly turns to look at you, while she slowly turns to look at him -“Did I... miss something?” Sevika asks, but he doesn’t reply, still perplexed, before glancing at her and saying, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” -He’s relieved but doesn’t show it. He can’t afford to just yet -As soon as he confirms you were serious, your name will be flamboyantly forgotten—he’ll constantly refer to you as “my wife/husband”

Silco (young):

-The man who survives on love -The first time you call him your husband is in front of Vander, and while Vander bursts out laughing, Silco chokes on his drink -“Are you serious?” He’s so happy that his pale iris are completely swallowed by his dilated pupils -He grabs a pen and draws a ring around your finger -To his credit, he works in a mine, so it’s hard to do better than that, but it becomes the goal that keeps him going -Completely focused on family, the future, and anything that sees the two of you together and happy

Steb:

-The first time you call him your husband is at a dinner among enforcer families, and being mute doesn’t stop him from stealing the spotlight -He whips around, blinking slowly with only his third eyelid in a gesture of confusion -When he’s 100% sure he understood what you said, his eyes widen, the small membranes under his eyes flutter madly, and even the barely visible gills near his jaw gasp for a moment -Someone says, “I didn’t know you were married,” and he immediately nods enthusiastically, not giving you time to take it back -Within 48 hours, he’ll have the ring ready

Jinx:

-The first time you call her “your wife”, she freezes -“What did you just call me?” -She’s used to being a little sister, a big sister, a daughter—she’d never thought she could be a wife. Family ties aren’t chosen, but the idea that someone would want her in their life so much they’d marry her feels incredible -“You want to marry me? Really? Why?” -She bursts into tears, and it’ll take at least 24 hours of cuddling in bed to calm her down -After that, she’ll run to her father to announce that she’s now a married woman

Vi:

-She might not be Silco and/or Vander’s blood daughter, but she’s inherited their deep desire for family -From her family’s tragic fate to Vander’s, she’s always seen family as the ultimate aspiration -When you call her “your wife” for the first time, she doesn’t notice right away, but a full minute later, she whirls around to look at you, as if to ask for confirmation -“Say it again.” -“...You need to buy bread?” -“No, all of it.” -“My wife needs to go buy bread.” -“Again.”

-"My... wife?"

-"Again"

Caitlyn:

-Has she thought about it? Yes -Was she planning to act on it? Not exactly -Caitlyn struggles with emotions and feelings, which is why she hesitates and takes her time -But when you first call her “your wife”, her brain completely shuts off—she just stares at you, unable to hear a single word being said -If you or someone else asks her a question, she’ll snap out of it and respond, -“My wife/husband said everything.” Even if it makes no sense as an answer, making you laugh and leaving the other person baffled

Mel:

-Not a single flicker of surprise—the first time you call her “your wife”, she remains completely composed -“So, I’m your wife?” she asks as soon as you’re in private, approaching you like a feline. You can almost hear the purr in her voice -She’s amused but also intrigued by whatever game you’re playing -The idea of marriage is complicated for her—on one hand, it feels like it would limit her freedom to act, while on the other, unresolved family issues seem to devour her at the mere thought of starting a new cycle -She’ll tell you to go ahead, to get married, but she’ll also ask for time -In the meantime, though, she’ll start using the term “husband/wife” with you—she likes the way it rolls off her tongue

Sevika:

-Between the work she does, the environment she lives in, and all the interesting circumstances of her life, marriage has never been on her radar -Not to mention that in Zaun, it’s not exactly a common practice—people just move in together and build families when they can, without much fuss over formalities or bureaucracy -The first time it happens, she’s playing cards with the other goons, and you casually ask if “your wife is winning” -Her first reaction isn’t even hers—it’s the others’. Dustin, the blond goon with the lazy eye, almost starts crying, embarrassing her -Don’t worry, she’ll make you pay for it at home -She won’t ask to formalize anything, but in true Zaunite fashion, she’ll consider you married, plain and simple

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shitpostdevil · 10 months ago

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watching this blog come together is kind of wild

like I would actually perish at this point if it disappeared bc I've put so much work into it

#i can very confidently say that i have never really understood what it meant to “feel like myself again”#i killed off so many worse versions of myself i thought there was nothing left #but truly #i am writing again; and have found so much passion in an art i used to indulge in constantly #im making art that i actually enjoy and dont think is complete shit because of my inability to conquer traditional media the way i want to #I FUCKING COSPLAY WITH MY PARTNER #and indulge in anime/manga pretty consistently #that is something i used to get made fun of for by someone who was supposed to be a parent #it took me a very long time to not feel stupid in cosplay #sometimes i still do #but IM DOING IT!!!#even if its not amazing #or i look like shit #or my art looks like shit #or my writing is shit #at least im fucking DOING something #pushing towards goals #practicing #every step i take is a step in the direction i want to be in #i am enough #i am allowed to take up space #ive seriously got this #theres nothing to be scared of anymore #the only thing that i continue to struggle with is my own mental and physical illness #but i am learning and adapting more and more every day #IM FORGETTING HOW TO HATE MYSELF I SAVED MY OWN LIFE #yapping

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cinnamorollcrybaby · 5 months ago

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Doting

Tags: jjk men as dads, tooth-rotting fluff, comfort drabbles

Synopsis: How the JJK men treat you while pregnant (spoiler warning- they dote on you.)

An: This is my formal apology for writing Nanami angst on the “Baby’s first words” post 😔 it will never happen again (can we stop with the death threats now?)

SATORU • SUGURU • TOJI • SUKUNA • NANAMI

SATORU

Oh, your loving husband is all over you while you’re pregnant. He genuinely has such a cute fascination with all the changes your body is going through. He seriously thinks you’re so strong for carrying his heir.

He loves rubbing your bump. In fact, he will always be touching it in some form or fashion while you two are together. When he’s away on missions, he has you send him pictures and updates on your pregnancy as if anything major has changed in a couple of days.

You best believe he is ready to indulge you on your every craving, no matter how strange. It’s three a.m and you’re crying because you need that specific brand of chicken wings and a can of whip cream? He’s heading to the store immediately to fetch whatever you tell him to.

He genuinely worries about being a good dad. Many nights he lays his head on your bump and talks to you about how teaching didn’t come naturally to him. He wasn’t born knowing how to meet people where they’re at. He use to expect people to be able to meet him on his level. He worries that he may inadvertently put a lot of pressure on his kid, and that’s the last thing he wants due to how he was raised. He just wants his kid to be a kid.

He’s the best, most loving and compassionate dad to your baby, more than you could ever hope for. Even if teaching didn’t come to him naturally, being a father did.

SUGURU

He’s such a “sit down and let me do it for you” while you’re pregnant. He cooks, cleans, works, and tends to you completely throughout your pregnancy.

Suguru gets hyper fixated on your health during pregnancy. He only feeds you the yummiest and healthiest foods while you’re pregnant. He encourages for you to sit on the yoga ball and do (very) light exercises. He just wants the best for you and his baby.

Whenever I said he tends to you, I genuinely mean he tends to you. He’ll gently brush your hair at night time, rub your back when your belly is becoming heavy to carry around, serve your breakfast, lunch, and dinner in bed, carries around emesis bags and breath mints for if you get morning sickness while you two are out.

This man is the king of enforcing your boundaries to people when they don’t listen. That really annoying family member that insists on being there for the birth even though you’ve already explained to them that you want this to be an experience for just you and Geto? Yeah, he’s made it very clear to them that they will not be at the birth if they want to be in your kid’s life.

He is absolutely not afraid to hurt feelings if it means his wife and future child are safe and cared for. He really don’t give a fuck who anyone else is. You and his child are first priority.

TOJI

Toji is definitely the type to express his love and devotion for you in other ways than the most conventional methods.

He is so incredibly gentle while you’re pregnant. He doesn’t rile you up as much or play fight with you anymore. He constantly reminds himself that you’re carrying another life inside you and that you have enough on your plate.

This man… whew does he love seeing you pregnant. Toji’s the type of man to feel so feral when he looks at you heavily pregnant with his kid.

He adores your body. He’ll rub lotion all over you and oils to help your skin accommodate to the stretch of carrying a kid. He massages your body and absolutely worships it while he’s rubbing the lotion and oil on you.

Your breasts are sore? He’ll gently massage them until they feel better. Your back hurts? He’d be the type to lift your bump up and take the weight off you for as long as you ask him to so you can feel relaxed for a few minutes.

And look this is probably TMI but like, if you got a clogged milk duct due to breastfeeding, Toji would unfortunately be the type of man to fix that issue with his mouth. i’m sorry but he would.

Final thing is, you better believe that he doesn’t allow anyone to get too close to you. He is so unbelievably protective over you while you’re pregnant. If he could, he’d lock you up at home to prevent anyone from getting close to you.

SUKUNA

On the outside, he acts very nonchalant and unbothered by your pregnancy. On the inside, he is constantly plagued by the thought that your body may not be able to carry his heir. The thought of losing you or his child haunts him.

He will secretly observe and take notes on your body and how it is changing. If he catches you expressing any sort of short windedness, he will immediately send you off to bed rest. Though, you’re usually able to convince him to take you off of it by the next day.

The only servant he trusts to tend to you is Uraume. No one else in his court is allowed to be anywhere near you unless he gives specific instructions. Still, he hates leaving you in the care of Uraume. He trusts them, but he wants to be the one to take care of you.

He loves holding your body close to him at night. All four arms are wrapped around you and holding you closely. Since he doesn’t need much sleep, he will stay awake rubbing on your tummy all night long. One time, he felt the baby moving in your stomach while you were asleep. He was so intrigued that he woke you up and told you to “make them do it again”.

Now, he will randomly approach you at any given time while you’re heavily pregnant and hold his hand out so he can feel his baby moving around inside of you. It soothes his worry.

During birth, Sukuna was a complete mess. The amount of blood lost during birth fucking terrified him. He was panicking and yelling at anyone to do something to save you, even while everyone was assuring him that you’re okay and this was natural.

After 9 long excruciating months of extreme worry and constant fear, he finally feels peace when he’s cradling a newborn in his arm and a sleeping wife in the other arm. All of his hard work to protect you paid off he thinks.

NANAMI

Oh, to be pregnant by the king of domestic love himself.

Nanami is the type of man to immediately start working on a nursery for you as soon as you reveal to him that you’re pregnant. He immediately changes the guest bedroom into a nursery that you design for your little baby.

He reads up on all the parenting books and articles. He’s constantly compiling things to either do or to not do during pregnancy and even while raising a kid.

Like Geto, he tends to your every need. He is a total house husband all while working 40 hours a week. When he’s at work, he is constantly calling and texting you to make sure that you’re okay and taking care of yourself, but let’s be fr he literally did everything for you before he even left for work (meal prepped for you, set out your clothes for you, put out all your self care items in case you want to bathe).

When you express concerns of your body getting bigger to him, he does everything in his power to show you that he loves and respects your body for creating life. He literally cherishes and worships your body for hours if you let him.

Like Toji, Nanami is protective over you. He constantly has an arm around you if you two are in public, and he watches everyone who dares to get close to you like a hawk. If he gets a bad vibe about anyone, he’s immediately stepping in front of you and taking over the conversation.

Nanami is the best partner to have during birth. His reading of articles during your pregnancy really paid off. He is supportive without being overbearing. He listens to your needs and tends to you without question. Constant praise and encouragement while you’re giving birth. The moment he gets to snuggle with you and the baby is the moment he realizes that he cultivated the life of his dreams. He has the family he always wanted.

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seouljazzbar · 6 months ago

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GO WITH IT

MARK LEE (이민형)

ABOUT 𓂃 ࣪˖ “have sex with me so I can finish writing this” inspired by this tweet or when mark offers to solve all your problems, it's much better to go with it

WARNING 𓂃 ࣪˖ language, mark is a bit of a slut, 18+ spiderman kiss (you’ll see lmao), allusions to fat cock mark… 😵‍💫, overstimulation, unprotected sex, mark’s name repeated like 78 times (no seriously, it’s up there), reader bent like a pretzel, orgasm denial, this author loves a comma, a pinch of softdom!mark, silly ending

PAIRING 𓂃 ࣪˖ bestfriend!mark x bestfriend!reader

WORD COUNT 𓂃 ࣪˖ 6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE 𓂃 ࣪˖ a little surprise drop for my favorite neo! i guess it's also a wee bit of a belated birthday gift to him :) i skimmed it for typos and stuff but i unfortunately did not edit it the way i should have, sorrryyyyy hope y'all enjoy! omg also reader's room is yu nabi's from the kdrama nevertheless hehehe

Nobody was busier than your best friend, Mark Lee. Between his job, his vibrant social life, and his weekly family dinners, you were lucky to be offered a slot in his schedule. It was always a yes to Mark Lee. Usually.

The last three times Mark had tried to make plans with you were all failed attempts, and the excuses varied each time. There was nothing shameful about the truth, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that your friendship was being thrown to the backburner while you sloppily attempted to get your life together. He knew all about your small business, taking commissions for art prints and ceramics, but he had no idea how much time and effort went into each piece. Besides, knowing Mark he would offer to help, and that wasn’t going to be of service to you in the slightest.

All you could do was rot in bed, hoping that something would spark your creative mind to no avail. Frustration was starting to take up every corner of your mind— from the nonstop orders that you couldn’t fulfill, to your supplier raising prices, to the fact that you hadn’t had a good date in two years. You were wound too tight to function, and any minute now you were going to start pulling your hair out in chunks.

The sound of the pin-pad at your door let you know that Mark was about to come barreling through. There were so many times that you’d be in strict creation mode, headphones in at full blast while Mark banged at the door pleading for you to answer; when it started to feel like a normal part of your routine, he just requested the code to let himself in. “Yo!”

Except, this time, none of that was necessary. Your headphones were stuffed in their case on the other side of the room, workstation completely untouched with your multiple projects stacked on top of each other. Despite the custom orders piling up over the last two weeks, you hadn’t had the artistic strength to move forward with any of them. The only thing you could do to buy yourself a little time was to post a message asking for patience and understanding while you navigate some vague emotional hardship. Realistically, though, it would only buy you another week or so before people would start to get angry.

“Hi.” Perched on a stool near the kitchen island, eyes locked on the cup of coffee you warmed up seventeen minutes ago, you were out of it.

Mark waved a few inches from your face, trying to get your full attention. “Hello? Earth to ___, are you okay?”

You snapped out of it, looking over at your best friend to see that he was dressed for a night on the town. “Sorry, got a lot on my mind right now.”

White, distressed tank top, loose plaid button-up undone, and his sexiest pair of black jeans. The way the meticulous curls fell around his face, looping around his forehead in a way that feigned boylike wonder. He looked oh so delicious, but you would never tell him that— his ego was big enough for the both of you. “Anything I could help with?”

A stifled chuckle barely reached his ears before you cleared your throat, turning toward him with renewed energy. “No, not really.”

Mark put his phone and keys down on the counter, taking a quick intermission to wash his hands before walking back over to you. He’d never been in your apartment in this way before— an unannounced hangout where you’re clearly just a stop along the way, being so underdressed in his presence. He’d seen you in a swimsuit before, but something about a big shirt and underwear felt far more intimate than the two strips of fabric. “This is like the third time you’ve curved me, if you hate me just say that.”

“Oh, you’re so fucking dramatic. I’m just busy.” You shoved at his shoulder, urging him to take a seat so you wouldn’t feel so awkward with him standing over you. He refused cooly, taking a look around your apartment to make sure you hadn’t been aimlessly rotting since the last time he stopped by.

“Even I'm not that busy. What’s going on?”

“I’ve just…” You sighed heavily, a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. Talking about everything wrong in your life felt far too heavy, too much to divulge to a friend seemingly just doing a wellness check. “I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, and I’ve got all these creative blocks that won’t go away and honestly I just need to be fucked like properly fucked to get my juices flowing again but all of the men worth giving it up to are in hiding.”

Mark stood there, mouth agape in disbelief. He did ask, after all. “Woah.”

“Yeah.” It felt embarrassing to hear laid out like that, but there weren’t too many secrets between you and Mark in the first place. Your sex lives weren’t off limits for discussion, and the two of you had plenty of chats that were NSFW in nature. But blurting out how badly you needed to be railed? That was a new one.

The silence spoke for itself, apparently. You didn’t want to chance a glance up at him, but you knew that you’d have to say something. Maybe something to cover your ass, let him know that you’re well aware how ‘TMI’ that was. Or even—

“I’ll fuck you.”

You nearly choked on air,“What?!” Now you had no choice but to look at him, scanning the twinkle in his eyes in search of sincerity.

“I’m really good, too.” He took a step towards you, eyes never leaving yours as his hands found home in his shirt pockets. This was a side of Mark you rarely got to see— charming, smooth, confident. There were times, namely on nights out, where you’d get a taste of it, watching him chat it up in some dark corner with the prettiest girl you’d ever laid eyes on. But this, being on the receiving end? Watching his eyes drink you in like sweet tea on a balmy Southern summer afternoon? It was enough to make your heart skip several beats.

“Mark—”

The smile he cracks at you makes you embarrassed for even considering it. “I’m just messing with you, geez,” Heat takes over your face as you try to hide it from him, palms rubbing at your cheeks as your heartbeat tries to find its resting rate. “Although, given that reaction, maybe I shouldn’t be.”

“Shouldn’t be what?”

“Messing with you. Joking, rather. I can definitely mess with you, if you want,” Running so hot and cold in such a short window of time has you shivering under his gaze, scared to make the wrong move and ruin what you’d beg him for. “Hm? Is that what you want?”

The air is thick with anticipation, nothing but the consistent drip from a ceiling leak as the soundtrack to your staring contest with Mark. He was so close to you in all of his Friday night glory, cologne a cloud around you as the heat from his chest permeated your personal space. You were certain that just one taste, just one night in the throes of passion with a curly haired Mark Lee would solve all of your problems. If you closed your eyes, you could picture it— sweaty bodies intertwined amidst the sweltering heat of your studio after dark, the fanning of his breath in your face as he rocks into you, his strong frame caging you into the bed so all you can focus on is Mark, Mark, Mark! His sighs and whines of pleasure flooding your senses so they’re all you can pay attention to, just his voice and his unrelenting pace as he— “___,” The sound of your name on his tongue snapped you out of your lustful haze. “Offer’s about to expire, baby.”

Mark slipped his jacket off without breaking away from you, dropping it carelessly on the floor while your attention wandered to his arms. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, crossing his arms against his chest as he awaited your answer. “You’re serious? This isn’t some cruel prank where if I say yes, you’ll tell me it was just a joke?”

“That’s not my idea of a prank, princess, where’s the fun in that?” Mark licked his lips, a faint smirk taking over. “Look, if you’re uncomfortable, we can pretend this never happened,” His fingers ghost along the side of your face, sweetly making their way to your lips. “But if it were up to me? I’d have you seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment.”

That was all you needed to lunge into a kiss with him, throwing him slightly off guard as you practically tossed yourself into his arms. But his lips were ready for you, steaming hot and sopping wet— just the way you like it. The smush of your lips together so suddenly garnered the sweetest moan from him, just enough to tease you of what’s to come. His arms wrapped around your torso like a claw machine, pulling you so flush against him as though he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers.

Your lips were still tingling as he pulled away to lap kisses against your neck, peppering anywhere his lips could reach. “M-Mark, hmngh.”

It was no secret that Mark had a bit of a reputation in the bedroom, but you never thought you’d witness it firsthand. His hands delved blindly to your legs, hoisting you around his waist so he could move you over to your bed. You almost had a mind to remind him of the three big steps up to your bedroom area, but he was far suaver than you gave him credit for— this wasn’t exactly his first rodeo.

He tossed you on the bed, the slight recoil exhilarating before he was all over you again. “If a proper fuck is what you want…” His kisses had shifted to your chest, lips and tongue sucking in the essence of your skin like he couldn’t bear not to. He was almost more excited than you were, his touch reaching anywhere and everywhere all at once, like he couldn’t get enough of exploring everything you had to offer. It was all starting to feel real as Mark made a move to lift up your shirt and the implication of your best friend seeing you naked caught up with you.

“Wait, wait. We’re gonna see each other naked.”

Mark, with the fabric of your shirt caught in his teeth, stared at you blankly. “Yeah…”

“Shouldn’t that be weird?”

He rolled his eyes playfully, squeezing at your hip with the hand closest to it. “Maybe, but how do you suggest we fuck then? Through my jeans?” He pulled your body swiftly down the mattress so you could feel how hard he was through your panties.

“Shut the fuck up, oh, my God.”

“I was trying to before you got all weird and jittery,” Mark made a move for your shirt again, and this time you didn’t fight him on it. The balmy air hit your pert nipples the second they were exposed, and Mark couldn’t stop the gruff noise that formed in his throat. “Just as pretty as I imagined.” You squirmed at the compliment, cheeks heating up at the sight of him drooling over you. “Like that? Hm? Are you my pretty girl?”

His lips wrapped around the peak of your breast, tongue swirling to the same pattern his thumb and forefinger followed on your other nipple. “Yes!” It was embarrassing, how fast you succumbed to his commands. He struck with confidence, maneuvering his way around your body like he’d done it before. “I’m your pretty girl.”

“So sexy saying that for me, baby,” Your legs part instinctually to make more room for him, and Mark took that as his sign to shift gears. “You know… sometimes, every now and then, I’d think about you. If I needed a little extra push towards ecstasy, you’d pop in my head. Think about the way you’d look if I got my hands on you. How you’d feel, how you’d taste,” His fingers prodded at the growing wet patch on your underwear. “Gonna let me see?”

Your back arched off the mattress, hands pulling him impossibly closer to you. “Mark, please stop asking, just do it.”

“Mm, say ‘please’ again.”

“Mark!”

His laugh would be even sexier if it weren’t at your expense. “Alright, fine.” Your panties stayed on as his tongue lapped at your folds through them, the flimsy cotton doing absolutely nothing to stop him from devouring you. You jerked at the feeling as his tongue licked a bold strip through your folds, your hands entangling themselves in his curly locs. “You’re so wet, holy shit.”

One quick motion moved your panties to the side, puffy wet lips on full display for his greedy eyes. His eyes sparkled at the sight, mouth watering at the mere thought of getting to taste you. “Smell so good, pretty girl.” He was so hungry and you were the only one who could satiate him. His tongue had a mind of its own, pressing flat against your folds without a second thought, “Taste even better.”

Mark’s grip on your thighs held you in place as he licked you clean, running his tongue against every nerve-ending he could feel for. He pulled them apart just enough to spread you out for him, just enough to be on full display for him. Your taste occupied every corner of his mind as he blacked out in pleasure, lapping up every drop your gushing pussy offered up.

He circled your clit until you saw stars, your squirming uncontrollable as his tongue darted inside of you. “You’re so good to me.”

Mark groaned between your thighs, in love with the praise you were showering him with. There was something about how natural and seamless it was for you to compliment him that turned him on even more, if that was possible. “I don't think I'll ever get enough of how you taste, Christ.”

His free hand slithered up your torso, sinking his thumb into your eager mouth while his continued working at your core. He wasn’t shy, either, licking boldly from your ass to your clit while shaking his tongue side to side. Slurping up every drop that dribbled out of your entrance, twisting his tongue as far inside of you as he could reach. You were dripping down his chin by the time he introduced his fingers, prodding at your glistening hole with just one to test the waters. He took the way you gripped onto his hair as his sign that you were more than enjoying it. “F-feels good, oh, God.”

“Mm, don’t be shy.”

Laving at your clit, he drank up the praises the way he was drinking you up. He only pulled away to fully discard your panties, diving back into center with renewed vigor. “Need more.” You didn’t want to push him any closer to you, scared you’d smother him, but he didn’t seem afraid to drown. He’d awoken something desperately greedy inside of you, and you were slipping further into a haze of pleasure with every passing moment. Two fingers pressed their way inside of you, pumping slowly to get you adjusted before the jerk of your hips told him to pick up the pace. You couldn’t hold still with the way he was devouring you, mouth and hands prying you open deliciously all for his enjoyment. He would die between your thighs if you let him, you’re sure of it.

You had to physically pull him off of you to get him to stop, orgasming bubbling inside of you in record time. “Want you inside of me already.” The entirety of the lower half of his face was a sticky mess of your arousal, from his nose to his chin completely covered in you. “Bro, you need to wipe… that.” Times like these, you were glad that you kept tissues on your nightstand.

“You cannot and will not call me ‘bro’ now that I know what you taste like. How insulting.”

It hadn’t dawned on you that Mark was still fully dressed, sans his plaid jacket-shirt that was curled in a sad pile on the floor. “Is that an order?”

He bit at his lip, eyes darkening as he drank in your bare figure sprawled beneath him. Your hands ran themselves up and down his arms, finally getting a chance to admire his body after all the focus was turned to you. Maybe it was the lighting, the way his hair fell over his eyes, or just the fact that he was the best kisser you’d had the pleasure of test driving— but he looked divine. Halo of light circling his head as he fumbled with his belt, biceps flexing as he lifted the tank top off of his lean frame. Suddenly, he wasn’t your friend anymore; he was something new entirely.

You were so lost in your own adoration of him that you hadn’t noticed he was undressed, pulling you directly underneath him as he kissed at your collarbones. “Where’d you go off to, huh?”

“It’s nothing,” you shook your head, snapping back to reality (which was so much better than whatever was going on in your will they-won’t they fantasy). “Thank you, for this.”

Mark didn’t respond with words, instead opting to kiss you softly, tenderly. Slowly, deeply, passionately kissing you as he lowered himself atop of you. He wasn’t in a rush anymore, pulling you into him like you were made of glass, grinding against your center like you had all the time in the world. Everything was so delicate, like he was savoring the moment for years to come. It scared you, if you were being honest. “Mark? You know you can still kiss me while you’re inside of me, yeah?”

He hummed in approval, connecting your mouths again in a slow, languid kiss, tongues slithering into each other's mouths and twisting messily. You could feel him lining up with your entrance, his hand wrapped around his girth to guide himself into you steadily. Chancing a look down, you tried to hide the way your eyes bulged out at the sheer size of him— he would never let you hear the end of it if you fawned over how huge he was. It took all of your willpower to remain still, your body welcomed him as though it had hundreds of times, the shape of him slotting inside of you like he was made to. His fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head so he could travel to your neck, groaning out his praise against your sticky skin. The absence of his lips on yours made you whine, hands wandering the expanse of his back just for confirmation that this was real. “Tell me how it feels.”

You couldn’t. Months of the worst dry spell you’d ever experienced coming to a head with Mark milking you for everything you had couldn’t be described. All you could do was moan, coiling around him even tighter as he started to rock his hips forward as though he was testing the waters. He was the only thing you could focus on— his scent, his taste, they way his nose pressed right against yours, the feeling of his fingers intertwining with yours against the mattress, the dionysian desire his hips were fulfilling. It was all just Mark, Mark, Mark. “Mark!” His teeth couldn’t resist nipping at your lip, pulling on it playfully before letting go to let his tongues soothe the area.

“I can’t help it, you’re so fun to play with.” He kissed you to make up for the quick dot of pain, relishing in the way you immediately kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm.

“I’m, I’m close.”

He spread your legs further apart to give himself more room to buck his hips, pressing at your thighs as he fucked into you faster. “Hold it.”

“Whyyyy?”

“You asked for the Mark Lee experience,” His thrusts grew pointed, almost exaggerated as his hips drove forward with precision, “and I’m gonna give it to you.”

You could feel yourself teetering dangerously close to the edge, stomach coiled tight and lungs working overtime. The mere thought of being denied your orgasm was getting you worked up— you hate not getting your way. Your legs wrapped around Mark’s waist, locking your ankles together for good measure. If he wanted to play games, you were down for it. “Harder.”

But instead of faster, Mark slowed to a complete stop, hands drifting down to your hips to pin them to the mattress. “Oh, baby, do you think I’m stupid?” He chuckled in your face, shaking his head as the laughter subsided. “That’s a sure fire way to get nothing.”

“Wait, no, please! I didn’t mean it.”

The damage had already been done. His patience with you was wearing thin, and he didn’t take kindly to disobedience. “Have you learned your lesson?” Each second that passed stole a piece of your orgasm away with it, that delicious ball of tension and heat simmering down to a cool pit of nothing the longer Mark held your hips down. Your heart stopped fluttering with urgency, slowing to its resting rate as you dealt with the consequences of trying to outsmart your best friend. “Speak up, baby.”

“Yes,” You hissed out, annoyed that your declaration of needing to be fucked was currently going unanswered. Who is he to deny you of the very thing he promised you? “I learned my lesson.”

It was exactly what he wanted to hear, “God, you’re so sexy when you behave yourself.”

You rolled your eyes, slapping his chest as he pulled away from you entirely. “What happened to ‘having me seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment’?”

It was Mark’s turn to roll his eyes, fingers running through his hair as he sat back on his heels. “Up against the wall.” You did as he said, spreading your hands against the wall as you felt him behind you, lining himself up with your sodden entrance. The inward arch felt unnatural at first, but you settled into it as you got comfortable in it. “Look up at me.” Mark was towering over you, quite literally. From this angle, all you had to do to see his face was look up and there he was with that devilish smile. His cock pressed into you as you watched him, the sheer thickness splitting you clean open for him, sucking him in like your pussy had been waiting for him. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Maybe it was the taboo of sleeping with a friend, but your body was on fire. You felt your entire body heating up at the sudden change in his demeanor, switching your flirty best friend to a man absolutely starved. With your eyes screwed shut, you reached a hand out to hold onto his arm, fingers giving it a squeeze, head bumping the bare skin of his chest.

“Fuck.”

You were even wetter than you were while he had you pinned to the mattress, the feeling of being filled by him more electrifying after a brief intermission. He was all over you again and that was all that mattered, walls tightening around him with a vice-like grip that had both of you gasping for air.

“Shit,” he hiss, already lost in the sensation, “so good to me, ___, so fucking good.” He emphasized the last syllable with a gentle thrust that had your nails scratching at the wall. Your orgasm was building back up faster than you would’ve liked it to, considering you knew Mark wouldn’t let you cum so soon after denying you.

It hit you deeply, in all the right places at the right angle. Mark was that good from the start, and you couldn’t believe you’d been missing out on it. If you knew he was this goof, you would’ve ruined the friendship ages ago. “So fucking deep, Mark, keep going like that,” you moaned, just as caught up as he was.

He captured your lips in a searing kiss, fucking into you with much more vigor than before, gripping your ass with such force you half expected to see the dents after. You moaned all you had to say, all you had to feel into each other’s mouths. When his velvety tongue enveloped yours you could almost taste the remnants of your arousal and the chocolate muffin he ate right in between sweeping and mopping. The water was still running, hitting part of his back and your leg.

You couldn’t pull away from him even if you tried— he was a part of you now, molded into each other’s bodies until you became one. “Wanna keep fucking you forever,” he groaned, pouring his all into every touch. “Keep you on me forever.”

It threw you for a loop. Keep you forever? Mark was a lot more emotional than he let on, sure, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he meant it in ways other than platonic. You couldn’t even stop him to ask what he meant by that because he was so deep in your guts that you were starting to feel him in your throat.

“Don’t stop,” you cried out, biting your lip when he hit a certain spot inside you and kept hitting it over and over again— the taste of blood didn’t stop you. “Don’tstopdon’tsopdon’tstop-”

“Fuck,” he whisper, voice strained and raspy, smacking at your ass before gripping it and bringing you down to meet his increasingly harsh thrusts, the slap echoing throughout your studio apartment. “Wanna fuck you forever, baby.” One hand kept its vice grip on your hip while the other grasped at your neck, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. “Gimme a kiss, pretty girl.” Your lips found his despite the blurring of your vision, a supple lock as he steadied rocking into your core. Kissing him upside down felt worlds away from the first kiss you shared with him, and yet you still couldn’t get enough of it. The hand on your hip slithered up to cup your breast, rolling your nipple as he pulled away from the kiss. “So obedient.”

All the shame had disappeared from your body, the satisfaction of finally being fucked numbing you to his quips completely. His name was on the tip of your tongue, begging to be set free, but the way his hips ricocheted off your ass made you short circuit. Your skin was hot to the touch, goosebumps littering the expanse of your body as your toes curled around the fabric of your duvet.

“Who knew you were such a dirty girl, hm?” Mark tutted. You hold back your moans, reveling in the sensation of his tip sliding up and down you dripping folds. Interrupting his own rhythm just to get a rise out of you, giving you no warning before shoving himself right back in.

“Bet this was your plan all along,” You ignore the fact that he technically initiated all of this, too blissed out to snap back at him cheekily. “Dripping all over my cock, fuck.” He’s thinking out loud, eyes locked at the way your pussy invites him in, grip unrelenting with each thrust. He drew his hips back again to repeat the same unforgiving tempo, laughing to himself at the way your thighs shake in anticipation.

“Wanted this for so long.” You whine, bashful about the confession rolling off your tongue so easily. Mark had always occupied a special part of your mind, but the barrier of your friendship with him always kept you from thinking of him in that way for too long. He’s hot, sure, and one of the most genuine guys you’d ever met— but risking that by dating him felt too stupid to risk.

Mark didn’t keep you waiting for too long, filling you to the brim with one stroke that had your toes curling. You gasp, a shiver running up your spine as he adopts a frenzied pace that nearly knocks you into the wall in front of you. “You’re so fucking warm.” He can’t help but moan out at the feeling, clutching onto your hips as he pistons in and out of you. Blunt fingers digging into your skin as you let your body fall forward. You felt so full.

“Mark, fuck.” you whine, probably a tad too loud considering how thin the walls feel at night but you couldn’t help it, with the way he held onto you and fucked you like he had never had good pussy in his life. “Faster.”

“Where’d your manners go? Say ‘please’.” He teased, testing your obedience despite knowing you’d obey him. There was just something about knowing he held your pleasure in the palm of his hands, knowing that you’d do anything he asked of you.

“Please, please, please Mark, need you so bad.” It sounded pathetic, and it only makes Markn screw his eyes shut as he fucks you harder. All control lost as he watches the drool drip from your mouth down the wall— he was really fucking your brains out.

Mark's rough groans were slowly morphing into needy moans, the sound causing even more slick to build up between your legs. “Taking my cock like such a good girl.” And you really were, considering you had nothing but the wall to grip onto, you let your body go wherever Mark led it. Each thrust sending you closer and closer to your climax, his dick hitting every single spot that you’re sure you’d see stars.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck.”

“You’re gonna cum? Mm, you can cum. Cum all over my dick, lemme see that pretty face.” You arched inward one last time for him, looking up at the man sending you to heaven and back on a loop. “There you go. Good fucking girl.” Mark smacked your ass sharply, holding onto your ass as he switched his rhythm to harsh, precise thrusts that were sure to throw you over the edge of pleasure. He kissed your forehead as the growing tension in the pit of your stomach snapped, your walls contracting around him in a tight frenzy that nearly triggered his own. He didn’t slow down, though. The clutching of pussy did absolutely nothing to deter him from fucking you with the same rigor, hips just as quick as they were before he finally let you cum.

“M-Mark, I don’...” The aftershocks of ecstasy silenced you in your tracks, the sparks of pleasure like electricity through your bloodstream. “Don’t stop.”

He laughed at the change of your tune, thumb flitting down to flick at your clit. “Baby needs more? Haven’t had enough yet?”

Even with him poking fun at your desperation, you were too drunk on his cock to care. All you could manage was a chorus of fuck me, fuck me, fuck me as Mark held you flush against him. “God, yes, fill me up like that.” Your arousal was dripping all over the inside of your thighs, the sticky slick glistening under the moonlight that peaked through your curtains.

“That’s right, I’m not fucking done with you yet, pretty girl.” This side of him was lethal. He was insatiable, obsessed with the way your body responded to him, greedy for the way you bent to his every whim. It was such a change of pace from the way he was kissing you in missionary, the way he treated you like a doll that he was afraid of hurting you. “Feel good?”

He was mocking you— of course, it was good. You didn’t have to tell him that for him to know; but feeding his ego was so addictive. The way he’d reward you for praising him was enough for you to fall for the trap every single time. “So, good, Mark, hngh.”

The smack of his hips against your ass bounced off the walls, echoing the depravity that you and Mark were oh so good at acting on. All of your senses on overdrive, the overstimulation pulling at you from every end, you weren’t sure if you could take it all for much longer. Drool slipped from your mouth onto Mark’s arm, the edges of your vision blurring as you could feel yourself bubbling over. “Gonna cum again?”

“‘m gonna cum again.”

He was drunk with the power of controlling you. “Hold it.”

“Mark, I can’t.” You were surprised you were even able to do it the first two times he commanded it, not used to having gratification delayed against your wishes.

“Gonna fill you up and then you can cum.” It only took a few more targeted thrusts before he was spilling his seed into you, an endless leak of evidence of what took place over the last hour or so. Even as his cock began to soften, he made sure to fuck you through it, massaging tight circles into your clit until your legs spasmed. The air was snatched from your lungs, eyes flittering shut in sweet relief. It was only two orgasms, but the build up had really taken it out of you. Mark flipped you over gently on your back, brushing the hair out of your face as you sleepily opened your eyes.

“Look at that. Take a look at the mess we made, baby.”

He gestured between your legs, a slippery canvas of cum smeared across your most intimate parts. “So much…” You couldn’t stop yourself from gathering some on your fingers, popping them into your mouth for a taste of the two of you mixed together.

Your brain was on fire, neurons alight with the molten sensation that was Mark Lee. Even though you took him up on the offer, you weren’t expecting him to completely change your world. A solid orgasm and a pat of the back, maybe. But now you were afraid that he was your new addiction that you’d never be able to feed.

You woke up in a fresh sleep shirt to the smell of toasted bagels and coffee. Mark balanced the plates and mugs the best he could as he tackled the steps leading up to your bedroom area. “Mornin’ sleepyhead.”

“What time is it?”

He shoved a mug of steaming coffee into your hands, kissing you on the forehead. “Don’t worry about that. You were exhausted, wanted to let you sleep.”

“Thank you.” The coffee was exactly to your liking, just what you needed after a night of fucking like rabbits. “So, should we talk about… it?”

Blush rose to his cheeks and there was no hiding it, his hair pulled back into a messy bun so his face was on full display. “I mean, only if you want to? I’m okay with proceeding however you want to.”

“You’d be fine staying friends? Never talking about it? Pretending that nothing’s changed?”

He shrugged, “if that’s what you wanted, then yeah.” His attention shifted to his breakfast, eyes zeroed in on his eggs and toast like it was a gourmet meal. “Just don’t wanna make you feel weird about it, you know?”

“Mark?” You placed your coffee and plate down on your bedside table, turning your full attention to him as he continued to avoid your gaze. “What did you mean by all the ‘keep you forever’ stuff then?”

He rushed to try to explain himself, scrambling his words into a whole lot of nothing. “It’s not, like, a big deal or anything. I just get possessive… in bed, sometimes. I’m not a weirdo or anything, I promise.”

None of that mattered to you anyway, your dreams of Mark that clouded your head all night giving you the push you needed to throw caution to the wind. Would it be the worst thing in the world to risk it all with him? One kiss, chaste and sweet, was enough to shut him up for just a moment. “So if I said we should try exploring further, maybe go on a date or something, you’d say yes?”

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline, mouth falling agape as he searched your face for any signs that you were being facetious. “Y-yeah, yes. If that’s what you want.” He was so bad with his feelings, sometimes— but you were more than willing to be patient.

“Well, good, because that’s what I want.”

#mark lee smut #mark lee x reader #mark lee imagines #nct smut #nct x reader #seouljazzbar

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