#because my brain won't stop chanting

[sinsofnivan]

INTOXICATION .ᐟ — RE Men x YOU.

SUMMARY: just horny resident evil blurbs where they're all pussydrunk. <3

PAIRINGS: LEON S. KENNEDY/Reader, LUIS SERRA/Reader, CHRIS REDFIELD/Reader, ALBERT WESKER/Reader, JACK KRAUSER/Reader, CARLOS OLIVEIRA/Reader

WARNINGS: female reader, nsfw themes, PROBABLY inaccurate anatomy, unprotected sex ( wrap it before u tap it folks. ), begging, breeding && Daddy kink, cunnilingus, angry makeup sex, size kink/difference, cervix fucking,

author's note: this is my first post. :) sorry if it's not that flourished . . .

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ NSFW UNDER THE CUT. ┈┈┈┈

LEON S KENNEDY .ᐟ

leon has seen — and will see more — monsters and cruelty beyond human recognition. both you and him think it's a pretty valid reason to not have children yet.

he knows contraceptives and birth control isn't a hundred percent effective, so he always played it safe: cumming on your face, giving you a good throatpie, covering your back and/or tummy with his warm cum . . .

so one could imagine the look of surprise on his face when you wrapped your pretty legs around him.

⟡

"baby, fuck! what're you- what're you doing?"

leon snaps from his fucked out haze, eyes suddenly wide and open as he watched you in your familiar fervour. "leon, please, please, Daddy. breed me. want your cum," you begged for it like you needed it; the shiny gloss of your tears only made you look so much prettier, he thinks . . . how could he resist such an angel like you?

"baby, we- we . . " he physically cannot muster that he can't. because can, and he will. the rough snapping of his hips never faltered, mind and body fueled with the need to breed you, to stuff you full until you leaked. "don't pull out—♡.ᐟ "

your begging alone was irresistible, and with the additional hypnotizing vice you had around his girth — the word no didn't even exist in his head. "yeah? y , y'want it that bad?" nod, nod.

you whined when he pulls out, partly from disappointment and feeling empty without him. you thought you'd be triumphant. just as you were about to call for him, however, your knees are pressed against your chest, and the familiar grip on your hips were now on the back of your knees.

it's not the stretch that makes your eyes wide, but the feeling of his tip pressed directly against your cervix. a premature orgasm rips through you and turning your brain into mush. completely, this time; leon was there to witness this, brows furrowed together and resisting the urge to let his eyes roll back so he can see your beautiful face.

his pounding resumes, skin sinfully slapping against skin, cock grazing your most sensitive spots with each needy rut. "i'll fucking breed you, angel. how do you like that?" your legs are high, higher up, now that he's leaning forward to have a closer look on your pretty face.

"Y/N," he chants like a prayer. he needs you like he hasn't needed before, forever and always. "leoooooon, love you — i love you," you sobbed, nails marking crescents on his shoulders, biceps. you feel so fucking full, you can't even think. just him and how good it'd feel to have his semen leaking out of your folds.

"fuuuuck, baby. you're drivin' me crazy. i love you too,"

his hips are aching, but that doesn't stop him from ramming himself completely deep into you. it won't stop him, because all he can think of is to fuck you stupid, fuck you full.

there's nothing coherent that follows, just pure, absolute filth. you're drooling, and leon's tongue is cleaning up your mess, like he's not drooling with you. his orgasm's nearing, thrusts getting noticeably sloppy and unrhythmic, but still forceful; compensating for the lack of speed.

"'m gonna cum, darling. ah—! beg for it. beg for it like a good girl,"

your pleading resonates in the room. if you could emphasize it with a wrap of your legs, you would have done so already. but your legs feel numb. y'can't move, not with his body weight forcing them up.

"pleeeeease, pleasepleasepleaseplease. need it! need'a be bred, please,"

leon would have come up with a witty remark, but all that comes from him is a groan whilst he buried himself balls deep into you. he's not pent up or anything, not even close, but he knows he's cumming lots. because despite being fully sheathed inside you, it's leaking everywhere. he rides out his high with slow, shallow thrusts, cum spilling with every push of his cock.

he's regaining awareness, taking in deep breaths. his eyes glaze over your figure, pretty much in the same state of post-sex euphoria as you. "Y/N," he mutters, letting your legs down slowly. the wince on your face tells him you're awake, and he cups your face.

"Y/N, baby,"

a thumb caresses your cheek. "—talk to me," leon sighs in relief when you grinned at him. "hi, baby," you croaked groggily. leon began to massage your thighs, kissing your neck. "i'm sorry i got carried away," and the night is spent with you cradled by his strong arms and comforted with his usual sweetness.

now, he's left with an addiction for giving you endless creampies.

LUIS SERRA .ᐟ

GIF by entreri

your pleasure comes first before everything. 

before he's buried deep and you're stretched out from his cock, your cunt's all soaked and prepped from the amount of foreplay he gives you. it's more than just wanting to prepare you. to luis, it's a requirement. having the taste of your pussy and cum on his lips was mandatory. he can't neglect his prinsesa like this.

why would he deprive you of his tongue? his fingers? he likes taking his sweet, sweet time in watching you crumble into nothing for him, only for him.

⟡

"luis!"

how many times have you creamed and gushed all over your lover's face? you can't recall. you don't even know how long he's been lapping at your cunt, but luis continues to coax out orgasm after orgasm from you.

he basks in your reactions each and every time, peering up at you just to watch you writhe from his tongue, how your body arches when you've reached your sinful crescendo, how your eyes roll back to the pits of your skull while you scream his name . . .

every man has his needs, and it's hard to create balance when the need to taste your pussy and your cum is equally as strong as the need to give his cock some sweet relief; after it's been painfully hard for an hour now. it twitches every now and then, aching for you. your touch. your lips, hands . . . "dios mio, chica," he pulls away to spit on your pretty, glistening cunt. "por favor, bebé. te necesito." he's desperate to relieve this ache, to feel that sweet release, but he just can't stop. too addicted. too drunk.  

he compromises, your bliss coming first before his. his tongue laps up at your clit — the sensitive bud all puffy and twitchy from how much he's made you gush for the past hour. you feel so breathless. so lightheaded. still, it didn't stop you from begging your handsome lover. "luiiiis, pleeeease, want your cock." 

his response? delving his tongue into your folds; tongue tracing your creamy slit and cleaning up the mess you've made. "shhhhh, prinsesa." luis says with a mouthful of cunt, nose brushing against your clit everytime he tried to clean up every drop of your slick. your wails only grow louder, weakness taking over as your legs close in on him. luis feels his breath hitch in his throat. 

not just from the prolonged use of his skilled mouth. but because your thighs crushed him. effectively.

can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe . . .  

his hands have a mind of its own at this point, because a mere minute had passed, and he had already undone his pants to pull his cock out. his moan reverberates against your cunt, and it only makes you cry out, pulling on greying tresses. you can't think straight anymore. all you can think of is luis . . . .

he's determined to make you cum again, lips latching on to your clit. he's determined to make you fall apart for him again. his stubble rubs against your soft skin, a harsh contrast from his gentleness, but the burn only makes it all the more enjoyable. "cum, bebé," he says, hollowing his cheeks. your legs only tighten involuntarily, too responsive to his stimulation. luis kept his eyes on you, grunting against your pussy as he fucked his fist. he can't help it anymore, mami.

"oh, bebé,"

if only you could see how he desperately fucked his fist. he was such a good lover for you. it can't compare to your cunt, never — but beggars can't be choosers. you were so lost in your own euphoria, you swore you're seeing stars.He just growls against your folds, eager to make you cream on his face again.

"pleease, mami. cum for me. squirt on my face," 

"oh, luis! fuck! 'm cumming! cummingcummingcummingggg! hnhggh—♡!"

neither of you made sense to each other, engulfed with overwhelming bliss that washes over you — and, well, luis's face. it didn't matter, however, as you two knew your bodies and loved each other beyond words. you didn't need to tell him how good he made you feel, when your shaking legs already spoke on your behalf. 

as soon as luis feels your juices soak his chin, cheeks, hell, everywhere—he can't help but spill his cum into his hand, high-pitched cries buzzing against your pulsating cunt. he rides out your climax with gentle kisses on your spasming clit, each kiss helping you ride out your high. he found it cute how your body spasmed with every brush of his lips and stubble.

he rises to meet you, lips leaving trails of wet kisses along your body. "bonita," he whispered against your stomach, gently nibbling on the soft flesh. everything is blurry for you, with luis being the only clear picture in your eyes. you bite your lip. he goes higher, 'till ivory meets your hardened bud; fingertips toying with the other. "luiiiis, gimme - gimme kiss," you whined, holding his face. "'m here, prinsesa. i'm here," finally, fucking finally, you and luis are face to face. 

"i love youu. love you, baby. i love you so so much," 

"i love you too, mi amor." 

you can't help but grin when you feel his cock—still hard and leaking pre—rest against your cunt.

CHRIS REDFIELD .ᐟ

despite how he hulked over pretty much you and . . well, everyone, chris was a gentle giant. or tried his best to be one. it didn't help that he was naturally strong and bigger than you. his whole figure pretty much eclipsed over your frame, with his hand engulfing the entirety of your own, shoulders enough to keep you out of sight from wandering eyes . . . if he didn't keep in mind to handle you gently, he could practically crush you. 

mind? 

what mind? 

"c , chris!" 

you pathetically drooled all over his bicep as he pounded you from behind. his whole body weight was on top of you in a caging pronebone, with a headlock to completely lock you in place. "Y , Y/N, my baby girl," he whispered, nipping the shell of your ear. "your cunt feels good. i love you. i love you . .  love fucking you," he mutters dumbly as he kept shoving his cock deep into you. you knew he was still—at the very least—still keeping in mind to not crush you, because the bicep arm around your neck barely took your breath away. 

his thrusts did.

every push in knocked out the breath out of your lungs, cunt nicely wrapping around his girth. no matter how much prep he gives, you always ended up squirming because the stretch was like no other. it reached places no toy or finger ever could—the tip threatening to bully its way past your cervix. 

his head is placed between the nook of your shoulder, breathing heavily against your neck as his stubble grazed over your skin. your skin is littered with bites, especially the shoulder that was within his teeth and tongue''s reach; the outline of his teeth covered in a thin layer of his spit. 

you weakly held on to his forearms, feeling yourself creaming around it. but you just can't help it—the drag of his cock against your walls was so fucking heavenly, you could have sworn you saw white for a brief moment. 

"p , pretty cunt's all messy, baby," 

chris stammers, shamelessly moaning into your ear and immediately latching on to your earlobe, can't keep his mouth unoccupied for more than a minute. especially if it's you. he can't stop kissing you. can't stop tasting you. 

can't stop fucking you.

you were helplessly pinned beneath his body—and you didn't possess half the strength to push him off. it made your cunt twitch thinking about being trapped under him, forced to take the pleasure, forced to take the stretch of your cunt . . . 

"f , fuck! don't—don't do that. 'm gonna cum, b , baby,"

"h , huh?"

before you could question him any further, his hips began to pick up the pace, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin intensified. "pleeaaaasepleaseplease, Y/N," he's acting like you were stopping him from whatever he wanted to do. "please. just let me cum in you. let me breed you. fuck, fuuuck. 'm gonna make you a mama," 

there's no thought behind every word he's spewing, and his body's moving purely on feral instict. "you'd. hnnngh. oh my god—make s , such a good housewife." chris is whimpering, fucking yearning to breed you as he envisions you as his wife. mrs. redfield. you can't speak a word in his filthy rambling, but it wasn't like you had the coherence to butt in. your eyes are rolled to the back of your head and your mouth would be wide open if his arm and bicep didn't mush your cheeks together.

"oh . . oh fuck. fuck. i l , loveee you. love you . . " 

he's lost count from how many times he's confessed how much he wants to marry you, how much he loves you, and who actually keeps count, anyway. all it mattered was your pleasure and his as he pounded you into the mattress. "love you too, chris! hnnnng—♡.ᐟ" 

there's something with the way you said it, or maybe he's just that in love with you. he can't help it, his arm tightening around your neck as he buried himself deep with a loud whimper of your name. you gasped for air, feeling even more full. 

but you didn't get to cum. he doesn't feel the familiar flutter of your walls, or the feeling of you soaking his cock for the nth time. who was he, if he couldn't fuffill your needs?

even in the midst of his overstimulation, he's trying his best to keep thrusting into you. "b , baby. please, need you to cum for me," he breathed out between gasps. "gotta be a good husband. gotta make you cum," like you hadn't been squirting for him since before he had you pinned under him. 

"y, you don't have t—!"

your words are knocked out from you as he began to ram into you harder. 'till your ass was red. 'till he's finally breaking the protective barrier of your cervix. 'till you're

"cumming—♡.ᐟ "

your eyes are wide open, mouth agape and dripping with spit. your cunt's helplessly gushing for him, clenching down on him ridiculously tight. "that's it. that's it, baby. such a good baby. you're so fucking m , messy, jesus chriiist," 

your mind's gone, and so is your remaining strength, body completely enervated as your head rests on his arm. nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, Chris began to place kisses on his jaw. The sensation of his rough stubble confirms you're awake, albeit feeling very lightheaded and almost dizzy. 

you don't know how long you two laid there. It was probably just minutes, but felt like hours, up until chris had pulled away from you. you feel his cum ooze out of your cunt, and you whine. 

"shh. shh. 'm here, baby. i'm here," 

chris helps flip you over to your back, and you groggily wrapped your arms around him. "are you alright?" chris caresses your cheek, before bestowing a kiss on your forehead. "i'm here. i'm here. do you want water?" 

you shook your head, only pulling him to you. he settles you under his arm, securing you with another muscular arm wrapped atop your body. "did you mean it?" you murmured weakly against his chest. chris only rubbed your back. "i wanted to be a husband?" you can feel the rumble of chris's chuckle. you nod. "of course, baby." chris tilts your chin up, tucking your locks behind your ear. 

"i love you so much. i'd love to spend the rest of eternity with you,"

you hid your face, embarrassed. "chriiiis," your boyfriend laughs at your cute reaction. "you're so cheesy," "whaaat, it's true!" you puff your cheeks out. "i'd love to spend the rest of my life with you too . . . "

good. because the ring was just resting nicely in the back of your nightstand's drawer.

ALBERT WESKER .ᐟ

wesker is strict. firm. what he says goes, beyond shadow of doubt. so when he tells you to not run your shoe up his leg, don't do it. There's a disappointed click of his tongue when your disobedience persists, your stilettos rubbing against his shin. "this is a professional dinner, Y/N." you can't see it, but you can feel his eyes piercing daggers into you. "hm?" you blink up at him so deceivingly sweet and innocent. "i know. the food tastes great, no?" you can't help but grin when you see him clench his jaw. 

wesker is strict. firm. 

but that's because there's nothing he enjoys more than breaking his brat into a drooling, mindless mess.

smack! 

"f , four!" 

you're settled on wesker's lap, legs parted as per his request ( demand, actually. ). 

you held on to your lover's arm for dear life, glancing over at your reddening cunt that Wesker's been leaving harsh spanks on. "are you gonna be good, pet?" you nodded vigorously, trying to hide the fact that your eyes were tearing up from his mean treatment. 

"really? I don't believe you."

SMACK! 

"i , i promise I won't do it again, sir!" you cried out. shutting your eyes, you braced yourself for the next slap that was to come. But you feel him slide two fingers into you instead. "you're fucking wet." Wesker spat, curling his fingers up. it squelches lewdly, your cream smearing all over his palm. "see?" It's obvious where Wesker was looking, because his other hand ensnares your jaw once he realizes your eyes had rolled back to your skull. 

"see?"

you swallowed nervously, nodding. "look at your messy fucking cunt." without any further warnings, he began to ram his fingers knuckle-deep into you. not slow or merciful, no, none of that. hard and forceful, as if to burn a lesson into that mischievous head of yours. 

"are you gonna keep acting like a brat?" Wesker growled, squishing your cheeks together with his hand. "no, sir! 'm s , sorry!" Wesker laughed at your pathetic apology, purposefully grazing his palm against your puffy clit. "I could almost feel bad for you." he cooed mockingly. "but this is your fault. the consequences of your actions." 

he continued to thrust his fingers—quite inhumanely, one might add—the room filled with the filthy harmony of your whimpers and the squelching of your pretty pussy. you're trying your very best to keep your eyes open, but the best you could do was look down at your soaking folds with a lidded gaze. it didn't help that you could feel your climax quickly building up.  "what do you say, slut?" he forces you to stay conscious, tapping your cheek with his four fingers. his thumb instinctively traced your spit-soaked lips. you're no better, parting them as soon as you feel the phalange. 

"i'm shooorry! w , won't do it again! i'll — ohmygod — be good!" 

your body shakes, a garbled squeal escaping your pretty lips as his fingertips curl up to your most sensitive spots. his gaze is to you, his pretty girl, how gorgeous you looked falling apart on him. Of course, he doesn't miss how you roll your eyes back uncontrollably. Wesker lets this slide, because he adores how fucked out you look. 

"look at me. Are you gonna cum, pet?" Wesker tantalizingly grazed the pad of his thumb against your clit. you look so pretty looking up at him with wide eyes as he urges you closer to your climax. "y , yes sir!" you whimpered. "yeah? gonna make a mess on my fingers, pretty?" you nodded, and oh my days, the way you held on to his forearm and nuzzled your face into him was so fucking adorable, wesker can't help but feel the warmth spread on his cheeks. 

too bad he's still gotta discipline you. 

just as you were about to reach that delicious release, you squealed as he harshly pulled his fingers out. It leaves your cunt empty and aching. "bad girls don't get to cum on sir's fingers." 

instead, he smacks your cunt again. you clench around nothing, eyes watering as desperation ran through your veins. "pleasepleaseplease," the spanks you once dread, you were now looking for; the infliction on your clit enough to prolong your incoming orgasm. 

"wanna cum. please sir, wanna cum. pleasepleaseplease," you tugged on his arm, and wesker lets out a shaky exhale, not realizing he had been holding his breath this whole time. raising his hand, he strikes your cunt again, and you yelped. "you . . you like this, pet?" he won't lie, you're making his facade break."yes! please, please, i just wanna cum," you sobbed, salty tears completing your fucked out look. wesker spanks your cunt again, and again, and agai—

you screamed, with a sinful bliss trickling down your back as you arch. you're gushing everywhere, all from his mere spanking. his head dips to claim your lips, tongue first; and it doesn't surprise you when you feel him slowly stuff your mouth as his tongue elongates.

you suck on it, no matter how messy it made you: chin dribbling with sloppy drool, lipstick smearing everywhere . . . your cheeks hollow, and you groaned when his fingers began to rub figure eights on your clit again. "mffh—!" still overstimulated and aching from your ruined orgasm, your hand encircles his wrist. but you didn't possess half the strength to pry his hand away. 

he slides his creamy fingers again back into you again, back to mercilessly fingerfucking you. his tongue only muffles your cries of pleasure, and wesker can't stop literally fucking shoving his tongue down your throat. 'specially when he feels your pussy tighten up as he fills your mouth. it's so filthy, wesker knows he's fucking fantasizing about this for days on end. his cock aches, leaking pre just for you. 

only for you. 

much to your displeasure, he's emptying your mouth; monstrous tongue retracting and at the very least, allowing you to breathe. "you're gonna cum for me again, pet." he purred, licking the sweat dripping on your cheek.

"i forgive you, pretty. only if you do one thing for me." he nipped at the apple of your cheek, a grin gracing his face. you whined when he pauses, but it was to probably give you time for your mind to function. 

"who owns you?" 

you feel that flutter in your tummy, and you mutter a soft: "you do . . . "

"sorry, can't hear you. speak up, pet." 

and as if to further tease you, his fingers begin its harsh thrusting again. "y , you do!" you said in one breath, in between wails and gasping. "i do, what?" he smirked smugly, chuckling against your cheek. "you— nghggh! you—!" "i . . i what, pet?" "you own me! you own my body!" 

and of course, your body knows; cunt quivering for the second time and squirting all over his digits again. "there we go, pretty. oh, your pussy's so messy." his thumb caressed your clit, trying to draw out your orgasm. you've been so good for him, he thinks you deserve it.

"there we go. i know, i know. s'too much, isn't it?" his comforting voice is so misleading, like there wasn't a lot of sadistic, unholy thoughts running through his head right now. "shh, shh. you did so well." he kindly helps you ride out your high with gentle strokes of his fingers. 

you're exhausted, mass completely resting on his frame as you tried to catch your breath. you huffed when you slowly feel him sliding his fingers out of you, the simplest movements still too much for your poor, overstimulated cunt. 

"you did so well,"

you're lucid, for the most part; feeling him turn you around so you would be facing him. He rubbed your curves, tracing the dimple on your lower back. 

"sleep, my love. i'll be here." 

JACK KRAUSER .ᐟ

you can fight with krauser with just about anything. krauser, with his hot-headedness, and you, with a similar temper and a venomous tongue. your arguments, especially the big ones, always ended up ugly. no matter how many times he held you, kissed your tears away, and apologized and vice versa, it never failed to send you crying or him walking out. 

and you don't even know why you both keep coming back to each other. giving each other chances like tomorrow will be any different. 

"i fucking hate you. i fucking hate this!" 

this was new. krauser's brows narrow together in a scowl. despite the hurl of insults you've thrown at each other, you never . . .  you never said that to him.

did you really mean that? did he really lose you this time?

you jabbed a finger on his muscular chest. "i'm fucking tired of you. i'm sick of you being so fucking angry all the time and so fucking possessive and so—!" you only just realized what you said when you saw the hurt look on krauser's face. why did he look so . . . sad? it made your heart sink in your stomach. "say that again," you begin to take a few steps back as krauser's hulking frame loomed over you like an impending doom. 

" j , jack, i—,"

your back hits the cold wall, and a pair of muscular arms cage you in place. you couldn't mutter another word when he suddenly threw your body over his shoulder. "hey!" you groaned. 

a hand slapped your clothed rear, before the both of your figures disappeared into the darkness of your bedroom. 

⟡

"say it again, i fucking dare you!"

you pretty much drooled all over the bed as krauser's big, strong hand held your head down. it made breathing more difficult, movement more restricted, but he was successful in shutting you up—which was probably krauser's goal. each slam of his cock was harder than the last, and your poor body can't keep up with krauser's rough treatment.

"you're jus' a big fuckin' brat." he growled, emphasizing each word with a harsh thrust, pinning your wrists behind you. his grip was bruising. crushing, even. and very, very angry.  "need'a—oh . . . —fuck some manners into you, clearly." your moans are muffled, and you hear an amused chuckle from behind you; and without warning, he yanks your hair and forced your body to a difficult arch. . you were so beautiful in krauser's eyes.

"y'got somethin' to say, bitch?" the timbre of his hoarse voice is enough to send shivers down your spine; and of course, his pace was more merciless, more . . . . inhumane. how you were still able to form sentences—if you could call it that—you didn't know. "h, haateyouuu!" you grunt out in one breath. "no you don't, baby." both your scalp and body finds relief as he released you. if he hadn't held your hips in place, you would have collapsed on the bed. 

there's a lot of shifting behind you that you don't see, up until he forces you to flip and lay on your back. once again, you're met with that stupid shit-eating grin on his handsome, scarred face. before you can even utter an insult, you feel him deep in your fucking guts. 

he's amused at your stupefied expression—wide, gorgeous eyes with tears beading at the ends of each strand of lash. your face alone could have sent him into an orgasm, but the fun can’t end so quickly, especially when he wasn't done proving his point.  “fuck, baby. you’re so—hnngg—wet,” with that, his rough pounding resumes; the bed creaking with every reckless thrusts he gives you. 

"oh, fuck!" you cried out, instinctively reaching out to wrap your arms around him—except, it ends up having both of your wrists pinned above your head. it's quick, and you don't even register it until you realize you had nothing to scratch on. "l , let me g- oh—♡! y, you fucking prick!" "stop fucking talking, you fucking brat!" spiteful is he, his pounding picking up pace and force. it made you dizzy. made your brain mush. made you moan for him louder; and as soon as he sees that pretty tongue lull out, krauser naturally has to spit into it. and you, well, naturally swallow it. 

the way you whimpered for him, how your body was so vulnerable for him, and only for him, and so submissive under his mercy . . . it triggers something animalistic in krauser. something primal. 

he feels the cold trail of drool drip from the side of his lip, and just as you thought he couldn't fuck into you harder, he was. his tip's literally pressing into your cervix. "you're g , gonna break me—♡!" krauser keeps rutting into you like a starved beast, the pleasure so fucking addicting. 

"gonna—," his words are interrupted by low growls and heavy breathing. "gonna fucking ruin you. you're mine," your pussy shouldn't reflexively clamp down on him, but it fucking does, and he loves it. "take it back."

you blink.

. . . huh?

"i didn't —god, fucking stutter. take it back!" "i don't — ahnnn— hate you!" krauser shakes his head. "no, no. t , that's not enough," you squealed when his thumb rolls over your clit. "say you love me," the added sensation makes you scream. "say you fucking love me, please," krauser whined, and you didn't know you liked that until . . now. 

"quit fucking around, Y/N!" he impatiently snarled, grabbing your thighs and pushing it to its limit; 'till your ankles were beside your ears. "w , wait—oh fuuuuck—♡!" stars fill your vision as soon as his cock slams back into you. "say you love me, c'moooon, don't be fucking stubborn," 

how could you say it, when each slam of his hips drew out nothing but fucked out whimpers from you? "i love you," yet, he fucked you like he hated you. and you despised the way it made your cunt flutter as it promises both you and him an orgasm. 

"yeah? you like that? i love you," as if your folded position wasn't difficult enough, him leaning down to capture your lips just makes you even more breathless. but you kiss him back. your lips yearn for him like air, and the best you could reciprocate it was a mere glide of your wet muscle; to which krauser didn't really mind. 

"i love you—! fucking love you, love f , fucking you." he says, thrusts frantic and relentless. "love , , l , love—," you pant, nails sinking into his forearms. "i love . .  fuck, fuuuuuck— i love you too—," you've never heard krauser whine that loud, but he does, sloppily thrusting into you as his orgasm takes over; cumming the hardest he's ever been.

"come on, baby. cum for me," he whimpered, face contorting in overstimulated bliss as he continued his thrusts. seeing him this needy and desperate to make you feel good made your stomach flutter.  "i love you," he whispered, placing kisses on your temple, on your forehead, anywhere his lips could reach.

"s , soooo fucking much,"

the way the tip grazes again and again and fucking again on your most sensitive. deepest parts makes you squeal, makes you wail. only he could reduce you to this whimpering mess. "'m close, baby. right there. don't stop—♡!" 

ragged breaths and feral grunts turn into high-pitched whining, krauser's cock aching from pleasure. too much pleasure. but his hips won't stop moving, can't stop driving himself deeper into you. "love you—love youuu," you babbled mindlessly, completely forgetting whatever grievance you held for him, and vice versa. his cock aches. throbs. the sensitivity should be too much, but his hips keep slamming into you.

and judging how he doesn't look any less tired . . . you were in for a long, long night.

CARLOS OLIVEIRA .ᐟ

carlos pretty much worships the ground you walk on. he thinks you're the best thing that has happened to him, and my god, this man will spoil you rotten. the moment his eyes laid upon your gorgeous face, he knew he didn't want to live in cold, cruel, Y/N-less world. after your second date, he's made up his mind. he will marry you, in due time. 

for now, he can settle with the domestic life of living together, doing your groceries together, cleaning the house to your favourite songs and slow dancing mid-vacuum.

"hey babe?"

"yeah?"

he switches the vacuum off, the shiny foil atop your night table catching carlos's eye. if he's not mistaken, this was your birth control. upon a closer look, it seemed . . . untouched. was this an old batch? did you forget? he looks over at you, putting away your clothes in the closet. 

"babe, it's your birth control pills!" he exclaimed, brows narrowing with concern. "have you been taking them?" it was only when you've finished up your chore did you turn to your boyfriend, looking at your pills, and then at his face. "those are my contraceptives, yes . . and no, why?" the lack of worry in your voice calms carlos a bit, blinking at your nonchalance. "but, babe—," "wait, i haven't told you yet?" your laughter mixes with your words. "told me what?"

you took it upon yourself to close the remaining distance between the both of you, cradling his face with your warm hands. "carlos,"—you reached over for your medication and put them aside. "i've stopped taking birth control, baby. since like, two weeks ago. i thought i told you, but i must've forgotten . . . " 

there's so many thoughts running in his head. thinkin' how gorgeous you'd be during your wedding day. when you're finally pregnant and bearing his child. how he'd be calling you his wife and not his girlfriend anymore. how he'd be a husband to you, and a father . . 

"—earth to carlos. hellooo?" 

"what?"

he blinked, realizing you were waving a hand in front of his face. "you said something about wanting to start a family some day . . it doesn't have to be now, but if it happens, then . . " you shrugged. 

what do you mean it doesn't have to be now?

it has to be now. 

⟡

he has to plunge his cock balls deep in you now. even if his previous creampies were already leaking out from your pretty hole. he needed to breed you over and over again now. he reveled in the sight of you; with your hair sticking to your skin from how much you were sweating, how your tits bounced with every thrust forward with his hips, how your lips were hanging agape from pure bliss . . you are so, so pretty in his eyes. prettier when you're thoroughly fucked and bred.

carlos could only groan, feeling your cunt twitch around his cock. he kept watching you writhe, kept watching you squirm beneath him because he just fucked you so good—but the squelch reverberating from beneath you catches his attention. hazel eyes begin to trail down your body, down to your pretty cunt where you were the messiest. slick smeared to wherever it could, and your poor clit was puffy from how many times he's ran a thumb over it . . .  but that didn't seem to stop him from doing so for the nth time. just to see your legs quiver, to see your eyes roll back to the pits of your skull.

"carlooos—♡," you whined, hips bucking against the sensation. "'m here, mama. jus' let it out," he mumbled in his pussydrunk stupor. seeing how you couldn't even mutter his name properly did things to carlos—fueling his lust was one of them; his grip on the back of your knees become tighter—and the slamming of his hips was more brutal, trying to fuck his cum back in you like he wasn't already doing that for the past hour. 

"ah! ahn—you're so rough!" you whimpered, and carlos only lets out a dry chuckle. "h-haah . . i-i have to be. or else you—," his words are abruptly interrupted by a loud groan as he forces his cock as deep as he could, just for emphasis. "you . . won't be knocked up," he whined, balls twitching as it ached to cum into your womb again. "c'mon, mama. get pregnant. fuuuuck, jesus christ—," 

he could feel himself drooling as he ruts into you desperately. "c'mere, cariño," you went from having your knees pressed to your chest to being completely folded in half. his face is buried in your neck, and his hands—no—his arms have moved to cradle your head, his chest taking over for him as your legs rest nicely on his shoulders. his tongue is all over your flesh, lazily lapping up your neck and sweat. the new position has him fucking deeper—literally. feels like his tip was gonna force itself up in your poor cervix. it was suffocating, but. but you craved it. you yearned for it. 

you needed it.

his hips were clearly hurting and fatigued, because every brutal slam down into you would result to him grunting and whining. his tongue's cold against your neck, spanish words whispered against it while he busied himself pounding away at your pretty, creamy pussy. nothing was stopping him from breeding you, from stuffing you full, not even the pain that pooled both in his hips and your thighs.  

"your pussy’s so goooood, fuck . . love you, i love you. dios .  . dios mio, no puedo dejar de follarte. quiero d , dejarte embarazada, mi amor." you couldn't understand his mindless spanish babbling—not with the sounds of his balls slapping against your ass echoing in the room. "wh , what . . ?" "shh, baby." —it's followed by more spanish muttering that you can't follow. not that there was anythin' going on in that pretty head of yours. 

[ god . .  oh my god . . i can't stop fucking you. i want to get you pregnant, my love. ]

there was nothing going on in his head, either. just the thoughts of you knocked up—everyone would know you belonged to him, that he fucked you, that you made him a father—it only fueled the never ending lust that he had no strength to resist. "oh my fucking god, baby, fuuuck!" his face scrunches up as he speeds up, and you didn't even know that was fucking possible. your eyes widened, the knot in your stomach tightening and tightening 'til it snapped; your orgasm spraying all over yourself and him as you screamed. "so messy, h-haah, f, fuck!" "carlos, m, my cunt—!" you could no longer find the words to say to him, stars filling your vision. you swore you were going to pass out. 

your cunt was sensitive, obviously, but carlos was beyond overstimulated—it hurts—his cock hurts after cumming and cumming and cumming in you, but the way your creamy walls hugged his cock was enough compensation. he won't stop. can't bring himself to stop. because everytime his cock slid back into you, your pathetic cunt only squirts in small fountains, dragging out your orgasm and only allowing him to slide in and out of you easily.  "gonna cum. 'm cumming," his whines grew sharper, getting higher and higher as his orgasm neared. his hold around your head tightened, and you could only bite and lick at the skin of his chest as his frame practically eclipsed over your frame.

"Y/N—god. 'm cumming. gonna breed you. gonna—g, gonna get you pregnant! dios mio, Tu coño se siente genial—," stuffing your fucking cunt to the fullest, he cried out your name as he came; this was the hardest he's cummed, experiencing heaven as he sloppily rode out his orgasm with shallow, sloppy thrusts. he greedily wanted more, but god, he's sure he can't cum anymore after this. he's not even sure if he can lift his hips to pull out his veiny, girthy cock out of your dripping pussy. 

you're barely conscious—so close to passing out when you feel a hand on your cheek, fingers worriedly tapping you awake. "baby?" his voice echoed in your ears, and you opened your heavy lids, vision adjusting to the sight of him. "come back to me," he whispered, peppering your face with sweet kisses. "carlos." you chuckled weakly. you only just realized that you did pass out, because you don't remember carlos putting down your legs or covering you both with your comforter. "i got worried." carlos lays beside you, pulling you beside him. "slept good?" he teases, and you only grumbled. you feel his stubble graze your brow as he placed a kiss on your forehead. "did i get too carried away?" "you don't say," you both chuckled. "'m sleepy," you mutter, wrapping an arm around him. and the only response you got from him? a light snore. you can't help but laugh to yourself. 

end.

A/N: such a wild prompt TT but i hope you enjoyed! thank you to my beta reader, @lafox-chan for proofreading and helping me!

and here's a blooper while we were working on it!

[mae-gi-writes]

let it be me | kuroo tetsurou (1)

In which you, as a new divorcée, can't help but crush on your 4-year-old's new PE Coach.

genre: singleparent!reader x coach! Kuroo, fluff, acquaintances-to-lovers

---- part one | next part >>>

You know Kuroo Tetsurou before you officially meet him.

Why? Because he's practically a legend to your current four-year-old who's been talking about him nonstop from the moment you've strapped her into the car on the way back home.

"Apparently he was a--a volleyball champ!" Sakura chimes from the back as you swerve into the right lane in the direction of your tiny flat, "he knows how to serve from faaaar away, and --and when he serves, it's like--kapow! and boom! and whoosh! like that!"

You can't help but laugh because seeing your daughter so excited about volleyball is something you hadn't been expecting, not when you have two left feet and a stamina of a tiny pet rat.

"I'm glad you enjoyed your first week back," you meet her eyes in the rearview mirror with a smile, "that's good isn't it? Better than last year then?"

"Yes! I love Kuroo sensei!"

It seems that this particular teacher has specifically changed Sakura's view on school, and you had made a mental note to thank him.

But all thoughts of thank-yous and praise had flown out of your head the moment you bump into the said PE teacher in the corridor leading up to Sakura's class the next morning.

"Oh I'm so sorry!" You cry out, bending down to help him pick up the stack of papers that are now flying about and scattering at your feet, "here, let me help you--"

"It's Kuroo sensei!" Sakura chirps suddenly, causing your eyes to snap up at him.

Oh. So that's the PE teacher she's been gushing about all week. You're quick to shove the papers into a messy pile before handing them out to him, "I'm really sorry about that," you say sheepishly.

"Nothing to worry about," his deep voice is what catches your attention at first, followed by his height as he straightens up so that you get a clear view of his facce; angular features, honey-golden eyes that blink slowly at you in a way that makes you want to squirm, and messy dark raven locks that looks like he's just rolled out of bed five minutes ago.

Not that you won't mind if he rolled out of your bed, you mind chanted without warning.

You stop it as soon as it surfaces, horror and panic crashing into you at the same time. This man is--what? Probably half your age?

"Kuroo sensei! Do we have class with you later?" Sakura, unknowing of all the tormenting thoughts flickering past your brain, seems all too excited to see her PE teacher.

He chuckles lightly before ruffling her short bangs, "not today, little munchkin," he leans down to see her face, "but I'm pretty certain that we have class tomorrow. How about that?"

"Oh really? Yay!" Sakura claps, beaming up at him like he's just put a new sun in her sky, and Kuroo grins before straightening up once more, gold eyes clashing against your dark maroon.

"I don't think we've met," his voice, it's so deep and gravelly that it makes you want to swoon. You snap out of it the moment you spot his outstretched hand, "I'm Kuroo Tetsurou, the new PE teacher."

"So you're the new teacher that Sakura's been talking about all this time," you send him a shy smile as you shake his hand, realizing that his palm practically dwarfs yours in comparison, "it's nice to meet you. I'm Sakura's mum. How are you enjoying the school?"

"It's been really great actually," his grin widens. He has a beautiful smile, one that will easily make all the ladies of staff fall at his feet, "I'm slowly finding my way around the timetable, but other than that it's been smooth-sailing till now."

You nod, "that's great. I'm glad to hear," and then turn to your daughter, "you know where your class is right?"

"Of course I know mum," Sakura folds her arms across her chest indignantly.

You laugh, ruffling her hair before ushering her onwards, "alright alright. Yes, you're a big now. Then off you go."

You both watch her teeter down the hall, sometimes almost falling off-balance due to her newly-acquired skill of running with the weight of her bag around her shoulders, and fondness explodes across your chest. It's sweet and bitter at the same time, watching your daughter grow day by day. She's always changing, you realize, every day is a new one, maybe her hair gets longer, or you find a new mole along her face. It's like she's growing so fast you barely have time to savour it.

"Cute kid you have there."

You realize you're not alone upon hearing the familiar scratchy alto, and quickly blink back to reality, "ah--thank you. She can be a handful when she wants. Sometimes."

"All kids are," Kuroo tilts his head towards you, a smile on his face, "but sometimes I think they know more than we do."

You can't help but chortle, "definitely. Sakura's practically a know-it-all. She's in the phase of correcting everything that I say."

"Ooh, a bit bossy huh?"

"Tell me about it."

It's then that the bell rings, disrupting any kind of moment you might have with the PE teacher.

"Anyway," you dip your head into a small bow, "thank you for taking care of Sakura."

"It's really no trouble, miss...?"

"It's Y/N. Y/N Kosuke."

"Y/N," his golden orbs locks on yours, swirling with a kind of playfulness, with a warmth that makes your heart stutter, "well, I shall see you around, Ms. Kosuke-san."

And with that, he swerves away with a small wave as you watch his broad back disappear down the hallway, wondering whether it's stupid to imagine whether he'd winked at you or not.

Probably not.

Because why would anyone be interested in a mom right?

-----

The second time you bump into Kuroo Tetsurou is during Sports Day.

You remember back when you were in high school, how you'd always find an excuse to skip out on the activities -- feigning your period or cramps just to get to the nurse's office and away from your classmates -- just so that you could sit and daydream about anything and just about everything. You weren't that popular in your cohort, making it easy for you to disappear whenever you wished. But despite that, you could count on your hands the number of times you'd replaced someone and failed to deliver, causing wave after wave of disappointment as you lost team points as a result.

But now, as a grown up responsible for a child and always accustomed to doing whatever they liked even if that meant bringing you unhappiness or shame, you were obliged to attend such events. Actually enjoyed being there and watching Sakura giving it her all despite her short limbs and her lack of talent in sports. From what you can see, she clearly hasn't taken from her dad's side. Every single flaw in physical movement comes down from your side of the family and at the thought, a smile curves at the edges of your lips as you proceed to clap even harder.

"Is Papa going to be there tomorrow?" asks your daughter the night before as you're tucking her into bed. Her wide eyes are staring up at you like you're the one who can change anything in her world. And yet, just the thought that you can't grant her this one wish makes your heart quake.

You press a soft kiss along her forehead before smoothing over her features, "i'm sorry honey. I'm not sure if he'll be able to come tomorrow."

"Why not?"

"He has work to do. But he promises to be there this weekend," you try to smile, though it's hard when Sakura's face doesn't light up like it usually does at the mention of her father. That's when you prod, "everything okay, Sakura?"

Your daughter merely turns away to hide her face against her pillow. Her mumble comes out soft and practically a whisper. But you can still hear her loud and clear.

"Why doesn't he ever come?"

Your heart drops to your stomach. You move to hug her, in hopes of appeasing the pain she feels. But she's right, you can't do anything about it. About this. It's a selfish act, the act of divorcing the one whom you thought would've been your lifelong partner till the day you die. And yet, you hadn't been strong enough for her sake.

And Sakura's the one victim to all consequences that follow.

Because how can you tell her? That her father has decided to choose someone else -- another woman, instead of staying by his family and taking on his responsibilities as he should? How could you tell her that her own father has abandoned her?

Sakura isn't stupid. She's well aware of everything that happens around her. But such words coming out of her own mouth causes your own eyes to burn with tears.

"Papa loves you. He's just--busy with work. But you know that he loves you so so much right?" you hope that your murmur is enough to appease her.

And it does, for now.

Sakura snuggles closer to your bosom, small fingers gripping your t-shirt as though she doesn't want you to leave, "will you stay with me until I fall asleep?" she murmurs through closed eyelids.

You nod, smooth one hand over her forehead, "yeah. Sleep now, okay? Tomorrow's a big day."

Hence the reason why you're here. Burning under the midday sun. Hat poised over your head, and a piece of stray paper from your office that you're using as a makeshift fan.

Until now, it's proven itself useless in response to the heat.

"Come on, Greens!"

That familiar alto. Raspy and velvet like chocolate. It makes your eyes swipe right to the source only to see none other than the PE coach.

Kuroo Tetsurou is bathed in sweat as he stands by the sidelines, cap over his messy hair and eyes never straying from the row of students balancing potatoes across their tiny spoons. His t-shirt is practically soaked through from the back, showing off his array of muscles twisting and twining like vines around a bark of a tree, and when he crosses his arms over his chest you take note of the swell of his biceps. Taunting, tantalizing.

He's a catch, is what your mind thinks.

You shut it down immediately. What's the point of daydreaming when you're not ready to commit to anything? Not even a fling?

No. You'd much rather stay alone. You know exactly how it feels like to be loved and to lose that love by someone whom you thought had your heart as much as you had his. And you weren't in a rush to fall into that trap once again.

It's finally Sakura's turn and almost subconsciously, you straighten up in the bleachers to get a better look at your daughter all decked in Blue. She's holding out her spoon, tongue sticking out in concentration just as a teacher places a potato right in the middle of it.

Catching your eye from where you sit, she gives you a wide beam, all teeth, and you grin back, doing a silly little wriggle of your fingers. You do the mistake of glancing back towards your right only to meet the PE coach's eyes by mistake.

He grins a Cheshire cat smile, as if he knows that he's been caught but he doesn't care, and your own smile turns shy, ducking your head and soon averting your eyes.

The whistle sounds. The race is on.

"C'mon Sakura!" You yell as loud as you can, watching your daughter waddle in what you hope is a straight line. She's second at this point, trying hard not to lose her potato as her classmate -- a red -- blunders right through without hesitation, "C'mon Sakura! You can do it!"

Your daughter all but wobbles, lips parted in concentration as another boy zooms past. You cup your lips using your hands and shout with all your might, "C'mon Sakura! Faster!"

She finishes in third place, not a bad start for her sports confidence, and comes running straight up to you so that you pick her up with a whoop.

"That's my girl!" You nuzzle into her sweaty hair, "aren't you a big champ?!"

"Did you see mum?! I'm third!" she flaps her arms around, "I'm third! Will I get a medal?!"

"You sure will," you pinch her cheek, "and you did great! I didn't know you were good at balancing potatoes!"

"Next time I'll come in first!"

"Then we'll have to practice at home," you chuckle.

It isn't until the end of the Sports day that Kuroo Tetsurou finds you amidst the horde of parents making their way to the parking lot.

"Hey," he calls out to you as you're opening your trunk. You wave at him, slightly embarrassed as you recall the way he'd locked eyes with you briefly on the field. You strive for nonchalance as you say, "how's it going, coach?"

"Not bad, how about you?" he walks straight up to the car, waving at Sakura from the backseat before turning his attention back on you. You and the multiple bags you're organizing, "what's this?"

"Oh it's for an event," you huff out and pull a bag up into the trunk.

"Here," Kuroo's hand reaches for the next one, "let me help."

"Oh--uhm--" you weren't expecting such chivalry. Heat rises to the back of your neck and you're glad it's a hot summer's day, for you're quite certain your cheeks are flaming, "thank you."

"No problem," he sets the last bag into the trunk, pushing it all the way so that it's secure, "what kind of event is it anyway?"

"It's a corporate event," you explain as he closes the trunk for you, "I'm an event planner."

Something lights up in his golden pupils. He whistles, "haven't heard of that one before," a small smile curves at his lips, "what's the weirdest event you'd had to plan?"

"Oh don't get me started on that," you shudder, "I once had a themed birthday party, but they wanted their party to be set in changing rooms, with the theme 'haunted toilets'."

"Wha--no way," Kuroo bursts out laughing. He has a very nice smile, and a laugh that is contagious. You can't help but grin at him, "is that even legal?"

"Well if they pay you to hire your changing rooms, wouldn't you do it?"

“I suppose so,” you snort, “as long as they pay me.”

He chuckles once more, the sound rumbling through his chest and almost making you swoon. God, he's attractive, even more so when he's all sweaty for some unknown reason.

You hurriedly try to end conversation when you feel your tummy tingle with those familiar butterflies, "well--It was nice meeting you again, Coach."

"Likewise," he tips his head towards you, "and I think you've got yourself a pro athlete back there."

That makes you chortle, "I'm not quite sure, Sakura's been graced with my lack of coordination."

"I wouldn't say so. She came in third, didn't she?"

"You're right," a small smile curves at your lips, "well anyway, thank you. For everything. You're probably exhausted."

"I am, but you're good company," he grins.

Butterflies erupt through your chest and you know without a doubt that this is your cue to leave, and quickly bow to him, "thanks again Coach, see you around."

"See you," a pause, before he adds, "get home safe."

These are simple words, won't that do't matter as much and can be said oh-so-politely. But still, it makes your heart beat so fast you feel it echoing through your chest. You try not to show him your blush as you slide into the driver's seat and watch him raise a hand in mid-wave as you pull out of the parking lot. Sakura waves back with as much excitement and you wonder briefly whether she likes him so much because of the lack of father figure in your household.

Your phone rings then and you scramble for it from the passenger seat, barely able to press down on the green button as you keep your eyes on the road.

"Hello," you place it on loudspeaker and drop it to your lap as you make a turn for the motorway, "hello?"

"Hey, it's me."

Oh.

"Papa!" Sakura's exclamation comes from the back, almost makes you skid off the road as you quickly right yourself with a silent curse. Why in the world is he calling now? It's almost like he knows you were having a good time.

"Aoi," your mumble spills out, "how are you?"

"Good, good." a small pause. "how was sports day?"

"Was great, you missed Sakura in her potato-run," you try not to let the bitterness affect your tone, though it's harder to manage than expected, "how was Cali?"

"Very nice actually, Sakura would've loved it. It's warm, with beaches, and people are always doing stuff. It's a nice city."

Of course it's nice when his new wife owns a mansion and no fees are to be paid for the household. Especially nice when his new wife's family has a multi-national jewelry business and a cash flow that seems neverending.

So you cut to the chase, "why'd you call?"

"Jeez y/n," he laughs, "so brutal. Can't I even ask you how you've been?"

"I've been well, so has Sakura," your patience is running thin, "so tell me, why'd you call? Isn't it like midnight over there?"

"Actually it's still morning," there's amusement in his tone, the kind that makes you want to hurl something at him, "but anyway, I was calling to let you know about the papers."

He doesn't have to mention which papers. You know exactly what he's talking about, "what about them?"

"I've already signed them and sent them your way. You should be receiving them by the end of the week."

"Yes, and?"

There's a bout of hesitation from his side, "and I'd appreciate it if you could sign it as quickly as possible."

Another needle to your gut, "that's fine but...why the rush?"

"Ah well," you don't have to see him to know that he's currently scratching the back of his neck, a nervous tick of his whenever he's unsure or nervous. You hate that you know that about him, "we're--we might be getting married in a few months."

You're so shocked you almost barrel straight into the vehicle in front of you.

-----

[tan1shere]

The 30th

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: was listening to this today and I had to write for this song, I actually love it. I hope you enjoy the story, it's actually one of my favs :,)

Summary: You got in a crash, after something bad was happening, you had called billie leaving her worried after you hung up, and didn't respond to her texts.

Warnings: angsty angst. Car crash, a hospital, depression, arguments ??, happy ending 😇

Masterlist

Things weren't like they were. Things were harder now that she wasn't in your life as much. And God you missed her. You had just gotten out of a toxic relationship. Your best friend, Billie had gone distant because of that.

"She's manipulating you and you can't fucking see it." She screams. You two were currently in an argument. "Stop this." - "No actually that's a lie you do see it you just don't want to admit the fact she's using you." Angry tears run down your cheeks. "Be quiet, you don't know what you're saying right now." Her head shakes. "I don't know what you're saying right now. You're not you, Y/n. You haven't been ever since you got with that son of a bitch." You slap her, out of instinct. Things fall silent. Fuck, why'd you do that? She stares at you. After a moment you speak. "I just think you're jealous." She scoffs. "Of what being in an abusive relationship?" - "No! Because she gets to have me and you don't."

Silence, yet again. "You know." She begins, everything's still, quieter. "Even if that was the case. I certainly don't want this version of you."

And that was the very last time you spoke to her. I mean how can you even communicate after a fight like that. The way she left shortly after. You loved Billie she's been there for you through it all, ever since you were kids. Everything feels so empty without her. She was your everything. And now that's all gone. You knew she didn't even want to see you right now. But you desperately needed to hear her voice.

The breakup had ended horrible. You told her you just couldn't anymore, because Billie was right. She was right about everything. You told your ex that she was infact mentally abusing you. Violently fucking up your brain. And just as you thought, she took it terribly. She started to scream at you, things breaking. Your heart aching. You wanted to get away but you were scared. All you could think of was Billie but she wasn't even near you. She's gone from your life. And you don't blame her.

It was all your fault, you chanted. All your fault. "Hey! You fucking listen to me." You hear your now ex's rough voice booming in your ears. Your attention back on her. "Can you please calm down-" "No I fucking won't. Was it her?" Your eyes roll slightly having enough, you were tired. "No, Bee. It wasn't her, i don't even talk to her anymore thanks for the reminder." She stares at you. "Did you two have something going on?" You sigh out, going to leave. She grabs your arm gripping tightly. "I asked you, a question." "Even if I had, why do you care you're most likely sleeping with others." She went quiet. You weren't stupid. Staying so long with her? Yeah that was stupid. But you knew everything all along. You knew she was using you but you lied to yourself. "Fine, whatever I don't even give a rats ass anymore. You were pathetic anyways."

You were laying on your couch, trying to feel something. Shouldn't you be happy she's gone? You should. But you're not. You don't have anyone, what's the point in anything when life is as dull as it is. Silent tears still escaping your eyes. You didn't want to be here anymore. Should you pack up and leave? Move out of the country, start a new life? You knew you had to do one thing before any of that. You grab your phone and dial her number.

"Hello?" She answered after 5 rings. She really answered. You take a second finding it so foreign to hear her voice again after months.

"Me and her broke up, sorry I was such a bad friend, you were right about everything - I love you."

And just like that you hung up. You didn't want to even know her response. Quickly getting up and grabbing a duffle bag, packing it and heading out to your car. Those tears still spilling from your eyes. But you didn't even know why, they just kept coming.

You were driving on the motorway, hearing your phone ding like crazy. Eyes faintly blurry. Your sobs eventually came out of you. You hadn't properly cried in such a long time it's like you needed this. But the unthinkable happens and you almost forgot you were driving. Everything happened so fast. Everything went black.

Billies View.

It was November the 30th. I was sitting at home, but the day just felt odd. I couldn't pin point why. Until my phone started to vibrate, I look to see her name pop up. I stare in disbelief. I didn't know if I should answer. But I ended up doing so. "Hello." I say, wondering what this was about. Then I hear her voice. Her sweet soft voice. But it wasn't as sweet than I remembered. Wasn't as soft. It was dull, full of exhaustion. "Me and her broke up, sorry I was such a bad friend, you were right about everything - I love you."

Those were the last words I heard before she hangs up. My heart rate quickens sensing my feelings were right about this weird day. Something bad was about to happen.

I spam her phone, trying to get her to message me back. When there's nothing I'm immediately in my car. Knowing exactly where to go. Knowing her mind. But as I get on the motorway the cars are piled up. Fuck, fuck. Fuck. Then that makes more panic rise inside me, it's early in the morning why is there so many cars backed up. Then I see the vehicle I truly did not want to see. "No.." I breathe out. I didn't care about the traffic, it wasn't moving anyways so I get out of my car. Run down the side to try get to the ambulance. This can not be happening, please be a nightmare. "Wake up Billie. This isn't real." Oh but it was. I see her car upside down, and my heart sinks down to my ass.

I sprint to the ambulance, seeing her body, still. On the small stretcher. "Woah-" "im family." I sternly say. I was getting in there whether he liked it or not. "Family?" The male infront of me inquires. I think for a second. "Girlfriend." Did I really just say that. The other guy nods at the one infront of me. "Let her on." I go over to her instantly. I felt sick to my stomach, her skin pale. My brows knit together. "Shes unconscious, and quite injured." But that's all I heard them say. My ears ring, head spinning. Everything about this broke my heart.

Readers view.

You couldn't shake the slight throbs through your head. Your eyes opening slightly, feeling as if you were in a car. A groggy groan comes out of you. Your eyes then open enough to see someone above you. How did you even get here was the only thing running through your mind. "Y/n?" You hear faintly, your eyes open fully now. Seeing Billie. You were in an ambulance? You were still trying to remember everything. "Love?" You then hear her say. "W-what happened?" It comes out muddled but she understood. "You got into a crash." As soon as she says that it's slowly coming back to you, every feeling, flooding you entirely. "Why a-are you here tho? How'd you k-know." Your voice was incredibly weak.

"You don't remember calling me.." She breathes. "Huh?" Billie shakes her head. "Nothing- what do you remember?" She asks. You think for a moment. "Breaking up with her- a-and then falling asleep on my couch after she left." You say, looking at her. "I don't really remember the rest or how I got here-" She nods as you say that. Not before your eyes start to slowly close.

You were awoken by a beeping, adjusting to the slight light in the room. You look around noticing you were in a hospital on a bed. You turn to see Billie laying slightly on a chair in the corner, asleep. How long has it been, you wondered. You continue to look around, going to move when a pain shoots through your side. You winced in pain. Causing Billie to stir awake. She looks at you. "Hey, take it easy." Her soft voice, followed by her coming over was truly comforting. Her eyes stare at your own. "You look pretty." She then says, grabbing your hand, placing it in her own. A small smile was to be seen on your face. Your smile. The one she always made you do before you had changed. You were happier then.

"Billie.. I'm scared." You then say, she takes a moment. "Me too. They haven't told me about what's going on, probably because I'm not immediate family." She sighs. But for your sake she knows you need reassuring. "You'll be ok though, you're here right now right?" You nod gently. "My side really hurts-" "the meds must be wearing off. They said if you woke up to press this button and it'll inject some into you." Everything felt normal again between the both of you... key word, felt.

Months go by and you slowly get back into eachothers lives, but something was still missing. It was her. And not in the way previously. You've always loved Billie. But maybe it was a romantic love. You wanted to be hers. Everything was dull still. You had ended up squishing your ribs slightly in the crash, so that was in the process of healing. Along with your heart. It was a Sunday, you were just watching TV when Billie was going to come round. She opens the door eventually, waving at you. You wave back. She had sensed you still weren't yourself, she saw it. However It wasn't always, you tried your hardest to put on a smile for her majority of the time.

Today however was a hard day, your mind would not shut off and you just couldn't bare trying to fake it. She then comes over to you. Needing to talk about everything. You had requested that there'd be no talk of any of it till you were ready but she needed to get some things off her chest.

"Sometimes you look the same.. just like you did before the accident." You look at her, emotionless. "Shes out of your life now-" "I know. But I still feel empty inside Billie." There was a soft silence. "I know you don't remember calling me. Right before the accident. You said you loved me." Was she piecing this feeling you were feeling together. It was coming back to you. You had called her and said that. "I know it wasn't a friendship kind of 'I love you'." You didn't know how to respond to her, keeping your gaze on her. "I need to know if it's true. Or if I'm going insane, because if it is true. Tell me." You still say nothing, feeling tears pool in your eyes, knowing how miserable you've been because you don't have her the way you truly wanted.

She needed to confess something.

"What if it happened to you on a different day. What if you hadn't called me beforehand. What if it was on a bridge where there wasn't a rail in the way, What if you fell into deep water and no one could find you. If you changed anything would you not of survived." Now she's tearing up, frantically saying all these things that have been deep inside of her for far too long. "You're alive, you're alive. You're. Alive." You leap forward bringing her into a hug not even caring about your rib. You hug her so tightly. She gently hugs you back holding you close, whispering into your hair. "Your alive." - "I'm inlove with you Billie." You speak into her shoulder, crying yourself. Crying hard.

She pulls you back grabbing your face gently. "I'm inlove with you too, and seeing her break you like she did. Hurt me. Knowing I could've done better, in a good way. I would've protected you. Cared for you. Love you. The way you always deserved." You smile at her. Your true smile and this just makes her say the next 2 words. "Be mine." Your smile widens. "How could I ever say no." You both smile, leaning in and kissing one another tenderly.

Let's just say she was forever thankful for that call that day.

[haveihitanerve]

Thought about Bruce calling Jason different variations of 'My __ little boy' (eg. 'My nerdy little boy', 'My mean little boy', 'My lovely little boy') And each time Jason is just like "Dad, it's only a 2 inch difference, I ain't little."

Even better if this isn't him saying it as Brucie, but as Bruce Wayne who just loves his little gremlin of a child even if he is an adult now.

The first time Bruce did it, Jason almost cried. They were at a Wayne Gala, and Bruce was leading him around, because he didn't trust anyone alone with his child want Jason running away, when they met a lovely old lady, a sweetheart, different to most Gotham Elite.

"Well, isn't he just darling." She cooed, and Bruce grew an actual smile, bending to kiss her hand.

"Mrs. Kershaw, a pleasure, as always. You look radiant. Also as always." He winked, and the woman, Mrs. Kershaw, laughed, blushing, as she pushed his shoulder teasingly.

"Och you, always knows just what to say." Jason pulled a face, but he couldn't deny it was nice to meet someone in Gotham at a Wayne event that Bruce actually liked. Mrs. Kershaw turned to Jason, bending so she was at eye level. A surprise, as most people took some sick pleasure in having height over him.

"Hello there dear, what's your name?" Jason offered a polite smile, waiting for the horrible pinching of his cheeks the older ladies seemed to be fond of.

"I'm Jason, ma'am."

"Jason Todd." Bruce added, and Jason shot him a confused look over his shoulder. When people, to be polite or something, asked his name, he always stuck to the first name, so that people didn't know he kept his own last name and wasn't a Wayne. Well, it was hyphenated, but that was a little too much.

But Mrs. Kershaw smiled, hands reaching dreadingly for Jason's cheeks. He tensed, but her hands were warm, and soft, and cradled his cheeks rather than pinched them. Like a mother. "You are such an angel, Jason Todd" She laughed, brushing his hair away from his face with a small smile.

"Putting up with Brucie all this time." Jason laughed, surprised that she was actually funny, and that she had insulted Bruce. To his face. But Bruce was grinning, seemingly pleased she liked him, and pleased he liked her, without even flinching at her Brucie.

"Yep. That's Jay." Bruce's hand landed on his shoulder, tugging him against his leg. Mrs. Kershaw straightened, pulling her hands away as Bruce rubbed his back. "My little angel boy." He laughed and continued conversing with her, but Jason couldn't hear anything. His ears were stuffed with wool, brain focused on those four little words. Those four, perfect words. My little angel boy. His boy. He was- he was Bruce's boy.

"It's always nice to see you Brucie, do stop by soon won't you? And bring your son, he's such a doll." Bruce laughed, drawing Jason back to the present.

"I certainly will," He promised, squeezing Jason's shoulder. "I don't go anywhere without my kiddo." He laughed again, and Jason wrapped his arms around his legs, squeezing tight.

The last time Bruce said it, Jason couldn't hear him. His body hurt, it burned, pain lacing every pore, every single cell. He could feel Bruce's arms around him, Batman suit scraping against his skin painfully, but he couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't do anything, and he didn't want to anyway. He didn't want Bruce to put him down. Not now.

Bruce's head was hung, on his knees, Jason clutched to his chest. Jason could see, faintly, out of the corner of his eyes, the remnants of a burning building. It looked familiar somehow, but the memories were just out of reach.

Bruce's lips were moving, repeating, chanting something, over and over, body shaking with silent sobs as cradled Jason's limp body. "My boy, my darling boy, my boy."

The next time Bruce said it, Jason almost punched him. "Is this him?" The voice was soft, disbelieving, and so, so grievously scratchy and old.

"It is, Mrs. Kershaw." Bruce answered quietly, holding the old woman's hand as he sat on the edge of her bed. "Its Jason. My baby boy." Jason gaped at him, taking a seat next to the bed.

"I'm two inches shorter than you, old man." He grumbled, leaning forward to be in Mrs. Kershaw's eyeline. "Hello ma'am." He greeted quietly. Mrs. Kershaw's eyes crinkled, and she reached one weathered, wrinkled hand for his cheek.

"Oh, oh my darling angel." She whispered, hand tracing the scars on his face. Jason fought the urge to squirm, to escape her condemnation, swallowing hard. Her eyes filled with tears as she cupped his cheek.

"I'm so sorry for all you went through, my Todd." Jason choked on his tears, heart constricting at the old nickname, the soft touch. Her fingers expertly wiped every tear away, smiling softly. Her hands dropped eventually, exhaustion clear in every breath.

"Take it easy, darling." Bruce murmured quietly, pressing a kiss to her hand again as he set it down on the bed. "We'll visit again soon." She smiled, hand reaching up one last time to snag Jason's.

"You done good, angel. Putting up with Brucie. He loves you." Jason smiled softly, leaning down to press a kiss to her hand as well.

"I know ma'am. I know. Sleep well. We'll come visit." She smiled, squeezing his hand before letting go. "You'd better." Jason chuckled, exiting the room to meet Bruce, waiting outside with a smile.

"Hey old man." Bruce swung an arm around his shoulders, knocking their heads together gently. "Hey, my lovely little boy."

uhhhhhh hope you enjoyed??? So sorry for bringing in a random OC it just felt right??? Idk i hope you liked Mrs. Kershaw as much as I did, and hope my story satisfied you, I'm still working through all the asks I've gotten, but my motivation as been like... awful, so i'm trying but make no promises :/ sry for the wait but this one just sparked up some thoughts and i had to write it, hope you liked!

[lovetei]

Can you write about the demon brothers reacting to MC attempting to flip a bottle and land it but before they do they say,

“If I land this, I’ll kiss Solomon.”

And when questioned why they had that very specific condition they respond with,

“Because I know I won’t land it.”

(Spoiler alert: They do land it and they’re like, “oh…anyways! Solomon wanna make out?”)

Idk why my brain thought of this but here

This have been in my drafts for ages... I'm sorry if this took so long... :')

I'll try to finish as much project and requests as I can promise :)

--------------------------------------------------

MC playing filp the bottle except if they landed it, they go make out with Solomon

Warnings: Grammar errors, not proofread

Versions: Demon brothers, Side Characters

Links: Masterlist

--------------------------------------------------

LUCIFER:

He's sitting in his desk doing the usual

Work, eat, work, sleep

And you're there

Sitting in the floor like a child he needs to babysit

"Hey, Lucifer."

"What?"

"If I land this flip I'm making out with Solomon-"

What flip?

There won't be any bottles to flip when he shot that plastic bottle with whatever dark energy that is stored inside him.

You just looked at the plastic bottle you're playing with that is now stuck in the wall with a black shadow pinning it.

You looked at Lucifer and he's looking back at you like he didn't do anything

"Ha, MC... Why would you even want that shady sorcerer near you? Asking such specific consequences..." He sighed.

And you responded with a giggle

"I only said that because I know you won't let me land it."

Oh...

I guess he fell for his darlings trap again.

Hey what are you doing?

Where did that bottle came from?

You have another one?!

Why, are you going to flip it?!-

IT LANDED?!

You grabbed your phone to call Solomon and asked him something but

But before you can even dial his number the same thing that happened to the bottle happened to your phone.

"What are you grabbing MC?" He asked as if he didn't just ruin your phone.

MAMMON:

You saw this flip the bottle challenge online when the two of you went to get some things from the human world

And you both decided to make it a trend in the Devildom

But of course you need to be unbeatable to this game first before letting others know about this

So you're in his room, continuously practicing

"If I land this you'll ask for Lucifer's credit card."

"If I land this I'm making out with Solomon."

Fine!-

Wait what?

What did you just say?

The bottle he just threw stopped mid air and the bottle you threw was stopped

It was about to do a perfect land but suddenly,

Coincidentally, a random fire ablazed out of nowhere causing the wind to change and disrupt the landing of your battle

He looked at you in disbelief, his bottle still mid air

"Why did you ask for that..?" He asked his voice low as the bottle slowly descended.

"Because I know you won't let it land, Mammon." You laughed out slowly making him chuckle too

Of course he won't

He's your first man after all, and your kisses are strictly restricted for him and him only-

Did that bottle just landed?

Is that your bottle?!

YOU GRABBED HIS BOTTLE AND FLIPPED IT FOR YOURSELF?!

NU UH!

You better bet he's outside HOL waiting for that damn sorcerer like he's some criminal.

LEVIATHAN:

He's the hardest player to play with, to be honest

You don't know if he's good at this because he's a good player

If he's good at this because he can control the water

Or if he's good at this because he's just so lucky

You've been chanting the phrase "If I land this I'll make out with Solomon." For some time now

But the water just kept mysteriously moving mid air causing the bottle to lean sideways and fail to stand up

You look at Leviathan and he just avoided your gaze while sweating

So what you did is

You briefly kissed him on the cheek before saying the same phrase while his mind is lagging and you knew it

The bottle landed and he's just like "H-HWAH?!"

You're grabbing your phone..?

OH MY GOSH YOU'RE GRABBING YOUR PHONE!

"W-Wait MC!" He tried to stop you from 'calling' Solomon

Well, you're not calling him,

You just put the phone in your ear pretending to do so

"I-I'll make out with you instead, please?!"

Wait...

Why are you grinni like that..?

W-Wait!

SATAN:

This bottle flip challenge is so stupid and so noisy

He just look at you with a book in his hands knowing damn well that the bottle won't land because the water is not enough

"If I land this I'll make out with Solomon!"

What?!

Oh wait, the bottle won't land.

He's nervous for a second he's glad he knows it won't land-

HOW THE FUCK?

Where did that water came from?!

Why is the bottle suddenly half full?!

"MC you little..." He frowned at you, the book no longer important to him

"What I flipped the bottle? It's just fair-"

What bottle are you talking about?

The bottle that is standing before you is now squeezed

And the water 'coincidentally' squirted just enough to have your phone broken

Just as he thought

The bottle wouldn't land.

ASMODEUS:

He's not actually playing with you, just watching you as he dries his nails

"Honey you've been flipping that thing since earlier, aren't your wrist tired?" He whined out.

You just shook your head

Not even bothering to verbally answer him

Except just continuing to flip the bottle

You then sighed before saying "If I land this, I'm making out with Solomon."

Oh?

Now he's invested~

Oh it landed?!

"Wah~ I want to flip it too!" He suddenly said before grabbing the bottle and flipping it himself

What, he flipped it in first try?

Wait why is his eyes glowing pink?

Did he control it

"Come on now, MC! Call Solomon and tell him he needs to make our with two people!"

Oh...

So that's how it is...

BEELZEBUB:

You're in the kitchen counter

Flipping bottles continuously since earlier

And he's just sitting in front of you on the other side of the counter

Watching you

"If I land this flip I'm making out with Solomon..!" You contracted

His eyes went wide

And before the bottle can even land you heard a crunch

"Tastes good."

Did he just take a bite out of the bottle?

THE BOTTLE?!

Well...

That's one way to solve it...

BELPHEGOR:

He's just trying to sleep peacefully...

Stop making so much noise with that damn bottle please!

He's burying his head on so many pillows

You think he can't even breathe anymore

So...

He can't hear you if you just whisper it right?

"If I land this flip I'm making out with Solomon..." You whispered to yourself.

Suddenly some tail hit the bottle and crashed it to the wall

Now there's a hole in the wall with a bottle stuck in it

"I just woke up MC... Don't mess with me." He said.

You just chuckled as you drop yourself on his bed.

You knew it.

Solomon won't stand a chance against a newly wake up Belphegor.

[ginevrapng]

Muggle readers first time on a broom and holding tightly onto Freddie and Ms. Weasley is yelling at him not to go to fast and he’s like where’s the fun in that 🫢

They literally live in my head now

"fred weasley you be careful now!" you hear mrs weasley shout to you both. fred smirks and you have a feeling riding a broom for the first time isn't going to be particularly careful or slow and you're absolutely shitting it, terrified that you're going to fall off. you're seriously having doubts about showing interest in riding a broom.

"get behind me and hold on tight love," fred grins at you. he can't wait for your reaction. you get behind him and hold onto him while chanting into your head about how he was on the quidditch team so that means he's good, he won't let you fall.

"you'll go slow right?"

you see a glint in his eye, "i mean i could but where's the fun in that?" as soon as he says that you're off, you grip onto him tighter and a scream comes out of your mouth. you're closing your eyes and your hair in blowing uncontrollably in the wind. fred laughs, "open your eyes love." you wonder how he knew you had your eyes closed, you think it's some kind of magic but really it's just because he knows you so well and can tell by the way you're pressing your face against him and clutching onto him.

you decide to open your eyes like fred said and you think it's absolutely beautiful seeing everything down below up in the sky as you're zooming past them. laughing you loosen your hold on fred and laugh, getting comfortable with the new experience and enjoying it.

"jesus christ hold on!" fred stops midair, after feeling your arms becoming looser.

you giggle, "sorry freddie, it's just amazing up here."

"i'm glad you think so but bloody hell hold on to me. gave me a fucking heart attack."

"what, you wouldn't catch me?" you tease him.

i feel like i haven't written fred x muggle!reader in so long(i have a few in my inbox, i'll get round to them!<3) i hope you like this! they live in my brain rent free, they're so cute!

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ｃａｋｅ ♡

♡ I got a Big Matthew request ya'll! I love this man so much and never met someone else who loves him so, like, yay ♡

♡ Pairing: idol!boyfriend!bm x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Summary: You've been feeling insecure dating your idol boyfriend but a weekend away quiets your worries

♡ Genre: fluff/smut

♡ Word Count: 1.3kish

♡ Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, & that's all babes

When your boyfriend suggested that you rent a house by the shore for the weekend, complete with your own private stretch of beach, you thought it was kind of excessive given the price. Even still, Matt insisted that nothing could ever cost too much when it came to his girl and you were on your way to the beach house in a matter of days. Now, as you sit along the white sandy beach on your striped towel reading that one book you’ve been putting off reading for ages, you’re happy that he convinced you to come.

Nothing in recent memory has been as soothing as the clear blue water crashing to shore. Birds fly above singing the sort of song that could lull you off to sleep in minutes. The bright rays of the sun are softened by the few clouds that surround it. You smile to yourself thinking of how hesitant you were to come only to find yourself dreading the thought of ever leaving. “Baby!” You hear Matt’s voice booming in the distance.

You peek over your shoulder to glimpse his muscular 6 '1 frame waving to you from the balcony of the beach house, not too far from where you are. In nothing more than a pair of gray sweatpants, your mind can’t help but drift off to the filthiest place possible at the sight of him. “Hey you!” you shout back, smiling sweetly despite your recent thoughts. Matt smiles back, his phone casually held up in your direction, “Say ‘hello’ to the people!”

“To the people?” you ask, eyes squinting as you notice the phone in his hand, “What people?” “I’m on Instagram live, baby. Get up. Come on!” In an instant, your heart’s in your stomach. Instagram? Live? You jump to your feet, wrapping the towel around your sheer black bikini. “Matt, you’re joking right?” you laugh, praying you’re right, “You can’t do that can you?” A part of dating an idol that you never questioned was the secrecy with which you had to navigate your relationship. No one besides his inner circle could know, especially not his fans.

It was honestly a relief for you. Not because you were afraid of how his fans would react but because you were nervous it might be weird for him if everyone knew he was with a plus sized woman. Matt has never made you feel anything short of beautiful yet somewhere inside of you there still exists this fear of how things might change if you went public. How he might change. You feel every single one of these thoughts flooding your brain at once. And, like the little hermit crab scurrying past your discarded book, all you want to do is hide. 

But you won't have to because he’s not embarrassed. From the moment he flipped the camera onto you, you’d officially gone public and the only thing he’s done is look out at you with stars in his eyes. “She is cute, isn’t she?” he says in response to a commenter, “Oh! Baby! Baby! Show them the bathing suit I got you! Her body in this? Oh my god!” “Stop it. You’re just saying that” you blush, softening in the presence of his adoration.

“I’m not. I swear you look so good, Y/N. Your body’s everything.” Matt’s excitement rubs off on you, even from a distance. Before you can second guess yourself you’ve dropped the towel, standing there feeling shyer than you ever have but somehow…liberated? “Yeah! Come on, girl! 360! 360!” he chants and you roll your eyes, offering him a graceful pageant spin. 

“Damn, I love you girl!”

“I love you too!”

You break into a fit of giggles, covering your face with your hands. Matt switches the camera back on himself, throwing up a peace sign. “You guys, I've gotta go. I’m…kinda in a mood now so take care of yourselves, okay?” Hanging up the phone, he leans over the railing, biceps flexing as he grips the ornate metal. “Meet me downstairs” he says in a voice…the voice…that lets you know exactly what he’s thinking. He winks at you, disappearing into the house, and you’re running to meet him like it’s Christmas morning.

Your bodies collide in the luxuriously decorated living room. Matt scoops you into his arms, kissing along your neck as you adjust your legs around his waist. The air conditioning’s off but you still get chills when his lips gently run along your collarbone. “You sure you should’ve done that?” you ask, playing with his short neon green hair. He looks up at you, his expression serious enough that you can’t question a word he says next.

“I know what you were worried about. It could never be that with us. I’m so proud to have you.” You almost tilt your head down, flustered beyond words, but he kisses you before you can. Having his lips against yours, his tongue exploring parts of your mouth only he’s ever been able to reach, is getting you wet already. “So beautiful” he whispers, long fingers slipping between your thighs to stroke your slit. Your bikini might be moisture wicking but there’s no denying how wet you are.

Pushing the material to the side, he presses two fingers into you. You gasp into his mouth, palming the thick bulge in his pants. “You want it?” he teases. “Mmm” you hum, nibbling at his bottom lip, “Just shut up and give it to me.” You’re rarely this bold but it drives him crazy when you are. In the blink of an eye he has you against the wall, a breadcrumb trail of clothes behind you. Your hands ride smoothly across his sculpted body as he caresses the softness of yours, guiding his head to your quivering entrance.

When he raises his hips, pushing into you, you whine and all he can do is groan at how pretty you sound. The way it feels to have him inside of you…it’s like electricity prickling at the tips of your fingers. It’s the waves of his movements washing against your shore, giving and taking from you all at once. He holds you so effortlessly, makes you feel so light, that the only thing you have to focus on is the pleasure that reverberates through your core when he grinds into you.

“Oh…fuck. Just like that” you whimper, nails digging into his shoulders when he hits a particularly sensitive spot. Matt slams into you harder, hitting your sweet spot every time, “Like this?” “Yes…mmph…I’m gonna…” You lay your head on his shoulder and he strokes your hair, his other arm keeping you steady for him. “It’s okay, baby” he coos, kissing your shoulder, “Come.” You’re shaking, doing your best not to scratch him but you can’t help it, when you finally come apart, gushing around him.

You press your face into him, muffling your moans. Matt tugs your hair, gently tilting your head back, “I wanna hear you.” So you let him, filling his ear with every noise you can make. Some you didn’t even know you could. When your body collapses, your muscles reduced to jello, he carries you over to the couch and lays you on your back. “You good?” he asks, caressing your soft belly before resting his head on it. “Are you good? You’re kinda big for this couch aren’t you?” you tease, legs wrapping around him once again.

“Shut up!” he shoots back, lifting his head to kiss your stomach. Nuzzling against you, taking deep breaths of your scent, he stares up at you the way he did on the balcony. “Mine” he sighs, “Now everyone knows it…” And for once the thought of that isn’t scary. In fact, you’ve never been happier ♡

[hime-bee]

BEE I AM LOSING MY FUCKING MIND, THE WAY THIS ARTIST DRAWS ULPIPI HAS ME ACTING UP SO BAD😩 NEED HIM TO FUCK ME IN FULL NELSON OR MATING PRESS ME FTRDEXTFYGGTGY,,

and hnnhgghhhh can’t stop thinking feral ulpipi and him practically fucking you like it’s his life mission or something. whether it be because he was exposed to a large body of water during a mission on accident and now those seaborn cells are getting a little too excited or you kept acting like a brat and trying to rile him up, it doesn’t matter. all that comes out of it is you being bent forward, hands against the wall, and ulpianus effortlessly holding your hips up as he pounds into you hard. each thrust has his fat cock pressed right up against aalllll your sweet spots, but what really gets you is when he purposefully presses the tip against your cervix for a few seconds. he knows you like it deep, and he knows what gets you creaming all over his dick effortlessly.

it's hard enough trying to stay quiet when he's normally fucking the senses out of your brain, but now you really can't stop the chanting of his name, lots of enthusiastic and eager moans of 'daddy...!~', and demands for more, harder, faster and him to breed you. and it's clear that you'll lose your voice at this rate because you know that ulpianus won't stop until he's completely satisfied. not that you mind, you're actually pretty eager for when he decides to squeeze in a full nelson for a couple of rounds or more. you'd never say no to being fucked more like the pretty little cumdumpster you are~♡

totally not my horny ass wanting to bully his soggy and pathetic ass until he does something about it hehe. he ain't gonna be verbal about it but you KNOW he's gonna be enjoying every second of it <33

I SAW THAT FIRST ONE, WITH DADDY ULPIPI TIED UP AND I HAD TO PRESS MY THIGHS TOGETHER 😩😩 WHY IS HE SO FINE, LATI?!?! HELP ME UNDERSTAND--

Let that old man get nasty and feral!! Let him breed some desperate pussy! He's the ultimate brat tamer and I don't accept criticism! 🗣️ Do you think he has a size difference kink too??? Like most things with Ulpianus, I'm sure he won't ever say it out loud, but you'd be able to tell that he's getting something out of it once he sees how much bigger he has compared to you even more so when he's got his dick in you and it's just a tad bit too thick to fit properly

I CAN'T HANDLE THIS ANYMORE LOL

[hearts4hansol]

you know what. fuck it. *posts entire phony wip in here*

WC : 3628

@wabatle @sillynene-13 since yall like phony

Chapter One - 02/01/2XXX

Death Corps. Everyone feared the four knocks on the door. Four, the unlucky number. That's when the Death Corps recruiters would come, forcing you to join the army. Everyone had to join, starting at the age of 13. I think they started doing it because of the amount of wars that have been going on lately. They need more soldiers to defend our crappy country. There were two ways you could get out of serving in the Death Corps: if you had some serious disability or if you were filthy rich. If you paid enough money, you could avoid going for half a year. If you keep paying, when you turn 35, they stop caring. My parents have been using the payment method of saving my brother and I for the past few years, up until now. The four dreaded knocks. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

I silently ran downstairs to overhear the conversation between my dad and the recruiter. The recruiter was a woman with blonde hair and dark brown roots. She had dark siren eyes and was dressed in an all black attire. She was utterly terrifying.

“Yes, Mr. Terry Black? We're here to enlist Mallory Poppy Black and Fitz Aster Black for their necessary Death Corps Service. We didn't receive any payment, and in the Death Corps Handbook, Section 37B it states if there is no payment to spare yourself from serving for a month, a Death Corps recruiter is obligated to come and take you or your children to training.”

“Recruiter, ma'am, we might've run out of money, but please don't do this to my kids. I'll pay double the amount next year.”

“I'm so sorry, Mr. Black. I cannot do that, I don't make the rules. I listen to the handbook. Can you please call them over?”

“Mallory, Fitz! Come down!” 

I went down first, my twin brother, Fitz, following shortly after. His face paled as he recognized the skull embroidered on the recruiters uniform.

“You're shitting me,” Fitz choked out.

“I'm so sorry,” My dad chanted as he squeezed us. “I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, please stay safe, my babies,” He was beginning to cry now. I bit the inside of my cheek, trying not to sob with him.

“Come with me, you two,” The recruiter ordered. Fitz and I followed her to her van. “Everyone in Death Corps has a code name. Mine is Guerilla. I am not telling you my real name, as per Death Corps Handbook section 1B. You two need to serve 18 months each.” She reapplied her cherry red lipstick before starting the van. “I'll be picking up more kids after. If any of you guys try to escape, you will suffer immediate consequences. What are they? You don't want to know.” 

“Guerilla scares me,” Fitz whispered.

“Real, if I have to serve in her regiment I don't know what I would do,” I whispered back. I couldn't shake the question off my brain, why can't she say her real name? Is it for privacy reasons? What if we did find her real name?

For those of you reading this story, sorry to interrupt, but I'm Mallory and I hate my life. My parents are divorced because they have absolutely no love for each other. The world is at a constant state of war. My twin brother is a weirdo. I probably won't get to eat mint chocolate chip ice cream for the next 18 months. But it could be worse?

The next person that boarded the van is some kid who looks our age. He was too busy crying to say anything about himself.

After that there was this one kid who just stared off into space for three minutes before talking. “My sister is in the Death Corps. I wonder how she's doing. She's almost done with her service.”

“What's her name, child?” Guerilla asked from the front seat.

“Eden. Eden Mendoza. I'm Wren, her little sibling,” The kid said. I could not tell the gender of that thing, and apparently, neither could anyone else.

“Oh, Himmel. Her left leg's been completely blown off I tell ya. Blood everywhere, it flew six or seven feet away from her, what a sight! But don't worry, she's doin’ better,” Guerilla informed. 

Fitz and I looked at each other, eyes both wide. The boy started crying harder. Wren's mouth was agape. “Her- Her leg was blown off??”

“Mhm, that's not even the worst I've witnessed on the battlefield. She uses a prosthetic leg now.” The fact Guerilla could say that with such a straight face shows how traumatizing serving for the Death Corps would be. I can't wait. (That's sarcasm, for those of you who are a little slow.)

After Guerilla collected all of the recruits, there were a total of eight people in the back of the van. Four boys, three girls, and one whatever the hell Wren was. The oldest in the van was a 21 year old man, the youngest was Wren, being 14 years old.

When we arrived at the camp, boy, was it crowded. There were varying expressions, from people trembling and crying to people being… excited to be here? You have a 51.6% death rate from serving in Death Corps, and you're excited? I wish I was that optimistic about dying. 

“Mallory, if I die, please hide my phone from Dad. One wrong click and he's going to bring me back from the dead and kill me again,” Fitz told me. I wonder how he'd feel knowing two years after he said that, I went through his phone and found out exactly why he said that.

“Same goes with me. If Dad found the drawings in my sketchbook, I'm done for.” I've never gotten along with Fitz well, but I guess it's easier to talk with someone when you're both in a life-or-death situation.

A loud siren came from way up front and a man who appeared to be around his mid-30's stepped up on the podium. “Welcome all Death Corps recruits. I am Eifrit, the current General of Death Corps. You are all gathered here today to serve your required 18 month term. You will undergo training and testing to decide which subunit is the most fitting for you. We wish the best for you, and as our founder would say, ‘Experiri non mori.’ Thank you.”

I think I'm going to start writing my suicide note. Death Corps, you guys can get a special shout out.

Chapter Two - 02/01/2XXX

“Alright, everyone from van SK431 come to this side! I will be doing a fitness test to see if you are fit to be in battle. I will be doing this with the aid of my helper, Andromeda. Introduce yourself, Andromeda!” Guerilla announced.

Andromeda was slightly shorter than Guerilla and had a nose piercing, a mole above her lips, split dyed black and white hair, and purple eyes that seemed as if they lost the glimmer in them a long time ago. “Hello trainees, my name is Andromeda, as Guerilla said, and I serve as a medic in the Death Corps. I will be doing a full body examination, and then we will run some exercises to test your stamina, dexterity, and strength. Any questions before we begin?”

“Ew a full body exam?? Are we going to like, have to strip naked or something?” Some ugly boy exclaims. He was one of the guys that were excited to be here.

“I don't want to see your small dick either, buddy. I have to do this, unfortunately.” Most of the group burst into laughter as whoever that guy was tried to come up with a comeback.

“Oh yeah? Well I bet um… Um… I bet you uh… You smell bad?!” That was the worst attempt at an insult I've ever seen.

Andromeda ignored his statement and moved onto the actual inspections. Fitz went first in a dingy tent with a caduceus on the front. He came back ten minutes later traumatized.

This part is icky and I'm sure you don't want to read it so I'll skip to the part after the whole medical exams. There were person shaped targets lined up and we were each handed a pistol. 

“You all have to shoot the targets. You get two tries, we'll be looking for people that have great accuracy,” Guerilla explained. “You kid, you're up first.”

Wren closed an eye and got into shooting position. The bullet hit a perfect bullseye.

“How did you do it? It was probably just a lucky shot!” A guy shouted.

“I'm used to shooting, my parents taught me when I was younger to prepare me for this. I prefer sniping more, though,” Wren said.

“You're hella good kid, shoot again?” Guerilla rested an arm on their shoulder. They nodded before getting back into position and shooting again, this time a little off from the bullseye. Guerilla wrote something down on a paper and let the weird guy– who's name I later learned was Lawrence– shoot. He used both his shots immediately and just barely hit the target. Guess we know who isn't going to be a shooter. Fitz was after two other people, and he did average. He hit pretty close to the bullseye the first time, and hit somewhere on the outer edges on the second try. I went last, and I had a stunning realization: I need glasses. And I need to find out which eye was my dominant eye. 

“Loser,” Fitz snickered. I elbowed him.

“This is why you're the one that was an accident,” I retorted. He didn't say anything back.

“Next up is close combat! Since there are eight people gathered here, we'll do this tournament style!” Guerilla seemed a little too enthusiastic to watch people fight each other.

First match was some random girl against Fitz. I'm not sure if pitting a girl against a boy is a good idea but equal rights, equal fights. The other recruits, Guerilla, and I watched as Fitz and the girl threw punches at each other. Fitz landed a punch on her nose, and I think something in that girl snapped because she kicked him right where it hurts the most. Everyone felt the pain Fitz felt as he fell to the ground with a groan.

“I win!” The girl smiled. She held her hand out to help Fitz up, but he swatted it away.

“I'm in extreme pain, I don't think I can get up yet,” Fitz groaned. Who's the loser now?”

“I know you can do it, Fitz. Get up if you want to survive,” Guerilla walked towards him and slightly nudged him with her foot. He got up immediately and stood right next to me.

I let him rest his arm on my shoulder as the next match started. It was Wren versus the 21 year old. Okay, these matches are getting a bit unfair now, aren't they? Wren probably just started going through puberty and they're fighting someone who's old enough to drink? The match started with Wren charging directly at the man, and the man retaliated by body slamming Wren on the floor. The thud was loud, but the silence after Wren's eyes closed was louder. 

“That was a child? You could've gone easier on the thing!” Guerilla squatted to feel Wren's pulse. “They're still alive, I'll go call Andromeda. You shouldn't have done that during training, but I like your attitude, man. You better show the same strength on the battlefield, soldier. I'll be back soon. Mallory, you look after everyone.”

The sound of Guerilla's boots hitting the ground decrescendoed as she left the training site. The man looked down on the floor where Wren laid and sat down. “Damn,” He said.

Damn indeed. 

Guerilla returned with Andromeda, who came to pick Wren up, with another girl by her side. She had the same chocolate eyes and facial structure as Wren. The doctor's coat and skirt were long, but not enough to cover the prosthetic leg she had. Was she Himmel? 

“Wren has a minor concussion, but they'll be fine with a little rest. When they wake up, tell them big sis says hi.” Himmel patted their hair before getting up. “Andromeda will supply the medicine to quicken recovery.”

“Thank you, Himmel. I'll tell you when the kid wakes up again.” Guerilla seemed like a genuinely nice person outside of the battlefield. “In the meantime, let's have our third match. Mallory versus Lewis.”

Lewis was the kid that was crying the whole trip here. When the match started, he stood and waited for me to attack. I was about to do the same until I realized that it was a pussy move. So I kicked his shins hard. He fell to the floor immediately and begged for mercy. I think what happened to Wren scared him.

“Mallory wins… I guess. I don't think that counts as much of a win, but great job?” Guerilla stared at Lewis with a pitiful expression. “I don't know what I'm going to do with you. Alright, fourth match starts in a minute!”

“You only won because Lewis is weak. If you went against anyone else, you'd lose,” Fitz told me. 

“You're not wrong.” I weigh 100 pounds and I am 5’6, of course I would lose against anyone that wasn't Lewis.

The fourth match was Lawrence versus a girl. These people need to say their names. I'm going to confuse the readers by saying “this girl” or “this guy” for the millionth time. I should use adjectives to make it a little easier to differentiate. Pink haired girl. That works.

Back to the story, I watched Lawrence win against the pink haired girl, but she put up a pretty strong fight. She seems normal, unlike Lawrence. She was crying a little in the van, but now she looks like she's just accepted her fate. Girl same. 

“What a fight, huh? Most of you guys did great. After Wren wakes up, we'll do an obstacle course,” Guerilla declared. An obstacle course doesn't sound too bad. I'm pretty quick, I have experience. By experience I mean running away from my brother after I eat the last piece of cake. But I'm sure it won't be that bad, right?

Right?

Chapter Three - 02/01/2XXX

I was wrong. It was that bad.

Wren woke up 30 minutes later after Andromeda and Himmel visited, confused. Hope they didn't get amnesia. Guerilla gave them some of the pain medication, but other than the confusion they seemed alright. 

“Sorry for knocking you out and giving you a concussion or something,” Wren's opponent apologized.

“It's okay. Maybe. I understand why you did that, I would've done the same.” Wren forced a smile. Really shitty apology, but good on them for accepting(?) it.

“Okay, now that Wren is back, it's time for the obstacle course. I'm tired of explaining so this should make sense. Y'all have seen obstacle courses before. Coming back in one piece is optional, I'll tell Andromeda to wait at the end and I'll stay here and make sure none of you losers cheat.” Guerilla does not get paid enough to deal with us and I feel her. 

It started with loser boy Lewis tripping and falling face first on the mud. I- along with many others- ran over him. Sorry Lewis. We had to jump hurdles, which almost led to my downfall. After that, it was climbing a cliff and landing the jump on a mattress. 

You get what happens during obstacle courses. I was neck to neck with pink haired girl for most of it until the final stretch, where I made it first. Fitz was third and Wren was behind him. Lewis was last, as always. This boy is a true example of a loser, Fitz, not me.

Guerilla decided to give us a break before starting an… intelligence test? Lawrence failed, as expected. Zero questions right, how does that happen? Fitz got half the questions right. I got 80%, good for me. Wren got one more question right than I did. I got outscored by a 14 year old. I need to evaluate my life choices.

“Folks, since we've completed all the tests, y'all get a break and tomorrow morning we have an assembly. There, you will get sorted into groups based on your performance today. I'm going to drink until I pass out, don't disturb me, your dorms are over there.” Guerilla pointed to a rundown shack. 

I only had one word when I walked in. Gross. Even my brother's underwear doesn't smell as bad as this place.

When I stepped in, it smelled like literal ass. There were four bunk beds, so I played safe and got a bunk above Fitz. The shower was freezing, but it felt refreshing to be able to shower. 

“Guys, appear normal. The troop leaders are doing a check on every training regiment and I want a raise. If you're on your best behavior, I'll let you sleep in an extra five minutes.” Guerilla entered our shack 45 minutes later when most of us were all freshened up. 

Waiting didn't take too long, because it was only two minutes after Guerilla announced a troop leader was arriving when one actually did.

Dear readers, I don't usually find anyone that attractive. But this troop leader? God damn, when I tell you she was fine! She had light blue hair that went to her lower back, a scar that started from her nose to above her right eye, electric blue eyes, and a tank top that revealed her arm muscles. She had a black cap sporting the Death Corps emblem on too. She looked scary in a different way than Guerilla did.

“This the training regiment from van SK431, correct? May I see the results of the tests?” She inquired. “To those who don't know me, my name is Lupus. I'm troop leader 172. Some of you guys might be in my troop, depending on your scores.” Please Lord let that be me. “Hey, Guerilla. This year we have a lot of interesting candidates, hm?”

“Yup,” Guerilla agreed, passing Lupus the papers with our scores, “Sirens little cousin is here, right? Van AE382? I recall working with Siren. Cool guy.”

“Mhm. He was a beast on the battlefield. Let's pray his little cousin is like that.” Even I have heard of Siren. One of the Death Corps best recruits. He killed a bunch of people and showed zero remorse. He left after his term was up, however. The top generals would pay him millions if it meant he would come back. If his cousin was coming here, maybe they would be just as badass as Siren.

Lupus examined the papers, eyes widening at some. “You have some good recruits, Guerilla, but…” Lupus whispered the second part to Guerilla.

“Mmm, we're probably going to put ‘im in the clean-up crew. Scores are underwhelming compared to everyone else in the group.” Of course they're talking about Lewis. The same Lewis who was, for some reason, fast asleep. For context, it was 5:21 pm. 

Lupus and Guerilla chatted about tomorrow and sorting us into troops. I also heard something about code names. The code names they suggested for me before they actually chose my current one were bad. If I had to tell people my name was Speedy I would leave Death Corps even if it meant they would hunt me down. I'll reveal what my code name was at a later point. For now, back to Lupus.

She left our shack, taking the papers to the higher ranks. Guerilla praised us and told us we were good little children for behaving and we would get our 5 minutes of extra sleep. Are we going to have our lesson on coloring in the lines next? Are we going to learn the alphabet? Guerilla was only three years older than the oldest person in our training regiment, so her treating us like kindergarteners doesn't make much sense.

The rest of the day was pretty eh. It was just me doodling in my sketchbook and talking to the only two people I was okay with talking to.

Lights out came shortly after I had finished one of my drawings. I can barely fall asleep on normal days, so of course me being on a bed that felt like a brick made it even worse. The next day we would finally figure out who would go where for extra training based on our strengths and weaknesses. I was going to be separated from Fitz and Wren. I was going to be in a war that changed everything.

Chapter Three Point Five - Why am I Here??

I should interrupt the story with some Death Corps lore. It all started with the war for more land. Humans are selfish beings, they always want more than what they have. they were willing to do anything for some land that was discovered. That land also happened to have a bunch of resources and riches, so that made the wars much worse. The war has been going on for just about a decade now. Every army is different, but in the country I'm in, it has the infamous Death Corps. Death Corps was founded by two siblings, Shams and Qamar. Their real names are unknown, but it was founded just before the war started. At first, it was just recruiting whoever wanted to join and whoever was strong enough. Then, they started getting desperate. They needed more support. They let in whoever wanted to join. The conditions worsened, and they had to resort to forcing everyone to serve in the army.

[palepinkgoat]

(warning, kind of gross and about mental health. Such is my life.)

I've had intrusive thoughts my whole life. Like, for as long as I can remember. A young child. Not just random thoughts that pop into my head, or even ones that are negative self-talk for example.

No, I'm talking about the ones where I can't stop thinking about seeing my fingers broken, or seeing them with the tendons hanging out or skin stripped off, or just anything gross you can think of, really. I'll be lying in bed and the thoughts will come, and I'll squeeze my eyes shut tight, trying to will the images away. But they persist. I imagine the worst things, the worst damage. I pull my hands out from under the blanket and stare at them. They're safe. I'm safe.

But then there it is again, not even a half hour later. And that's when I crawl out of bed and take an Ativan, and try to relax. But it's all so exhausting to think about. It runs me ragged. The worst times are when it seems just normal. I'll be doing something and an image will pop into my head, and I shake my head and keep doing the dishes.

Hey look, your skin is falling off.

No its not.

What if it DID though? What if it breaks and bones stick out? Like tiny little bones that -

Stop it. Leave me alone.

These are different than hallucinations. I have had those too. This is about my thoughts. I don't SEE my hands like this. I see them as normal fingers. But the THOUGHT of them being injured is so real. So real I can ALMOST see it.

This is about persistent wild jabs into the soft creature of my brain. One day the thoughts will leave me, and won't come back in this form probably. It will choose something else. So I just get to wait and see, I guess.

Being a mentally ill person is hard. Sometimes it's so boring, and sometimes when I feel things in episodes it's just so normal to me that it's hard to imagine other people don't live like this. Then sometimes it's me trying to heal myself from the inside out, staring at my hands, chanting "you're safe, you're safe, you're safe."

I told my doctor about them. Pychiatrists are cool because when you say something that other people would be like "Gross, that's crazy" they are just kind of like "oh, okay." At least that's how mine is. To be understood that way is deeply comforting.

I think this whole thing was triggered by a relative's upcoming hand surgery. It's like my brain heard that, woke up and pounced on it, a bright shiny thing it turned over and over, fascinated, unable to look away. Take that and run it through the wires and this all comes out instead. Lost in translation.

This won't last. I know that. My brain will set the shiny thing down and walk away toward the next shiny thing. But being mentally ill? The bipolar? That's forever. There is no cure. Meds aren't a cure, they are a tool. Underneath all of it is my sick and vulnerable and brilliant brain, looking for something to destroy for a little while. It never gets tired of that mission.

But I'm tired.

[willel]

Vecna and his choice of victims

This has probably already been written before but I've had some more thoughts since the play. I also have like, 20 asks people have sent in that i haven't answered and I'm pretending to not see until I figure out what I want to say in response >.> (I do appreciate the asks but phew my brain juices are running low. Ha)

Most of this is related to season 4 so I won't be putting them under a read more now. I'll also be making a lot of assumptions here.

I hadn't known until now but apparently people have been getting into fights because of their theories and well, I don't want any part of that. THESE ARE JUST THOUGHTS~. I'm not an ST writer and I have no idea where they're going with things, so let's just chill and have a chat alright?

General assumptions

I know I and some others have discussed this in the past, but it's pretty obvious Henry is deeply connected to El and Will. He has a lot of parallels with them. Not just surface levels ones either, they seem pretty intentional and the writers/actors themselves have been hinting at it.

But what if it doesn't stop there? What if he relates to ALL his victims which is why they were chosen in the first place? What if it's not just "they were teenagers suffering" but it's a specific kind of suffering he could relate to?

#1: Chrissy.

Chrissy was suffering from bulimia and it seems one of her major triggers was her mother constantly talking about her weight. In Vecna's depiction of her mother, she was called a fat pig, her mom constantly readjusted her clothes at the sewing machine so they would "fit". Her father was either dense as hell or refused to see what was happening since his eyes were sown shut in Chrissy's waking nightmare. Food was depicted as rotten and disgusting, which is probably how she felt due to her eating disorder caused by her family situation.

With the extra bits we've gotten from the play and what was in the show itself, I believe Henry faced a similar situation. He was going through stuff and his mother was unsupportive and visibly disgusted by him. Even though Henry and his mother obviously had a tense and extremely negative relationship, Henry's dad Victor seemed completely unaware of what was going on or refused to acknowledge it.

When Victor retold what happened to his family, in his opinion, his life was pretty picturesque. I haven't heard many details about Victor in the play but he completely glossed over all of his son's odd behavior or why they even moved to Hawkins in the first place. In fact, he thought his son was sensing the danger rather than his son BEING the danger.

It's almost 1 to 1 of Chrissy's home life. Terrible mother child dynamics. Emotionally absent father. Irrelevant sibling.

#2: Fred.

We know a lot less about Fred's home life, but there's still a little bit we can pick apart from what we do know. We know that Fred was involved in some kind of accident a year or so ago. Instead of helping his fellow victim in the crash, Fred ran all the way home, terrified. Either people blame him for the other victim's death or he blames himself so harshly that he believes others blame him (guilt basically).

If I stretch things a bit, it sorta lines up with Henry hurting a kid at school while he lived in Nevada before moving to Hawkins maybe?

Or maybe it's that situation they created with Patti in the play with Principal Newby? I don't know all the details but Patti blamed Henry for what happened right? At least temporarily.

When Fred has his vision in the woods, a little girl grows a weird ugly finger and starts the "Murderer" chant. Maybe that's similar to Henry's sister Alice approaching him and telling him he's a different person now?

This one is a stretch I realize, but hey.

#3: Patrick.

This one is pretty similar to Chrissy situation but in reverse I suppose. It's not Patrick's mother that's the problem, but his dad. When Henry selected Patrick as his target, we heard Patrick's dad basically call him worthless. Lucas mentions Patrick coming into practice with bruises sometimes and feels bad for not being there for Patrick more having realized belatedly what was going on.

I don't believe Henry was physically abused by his parents, BUT "Papa" certainly was. Brenner, the obsessed scientist weirdo has done plenty of things to Henry and the rest of the kids so I'm sure I don't need to go into detail.

We've even seen him berate El multiple times for not doing what he wants. He even tried to pin blame on her for everything that was happening in season 4 before she rightly pushed the blame right back on his shoulders. (and then he stabs her with a needle and puts a shock collar on her.)

Maybe it doesn't match up for you but I dunno, I think that lines up pretty evenly.

#4: Max.

Unsurprisingly, Max's situation is what triggered this entire post. I was just thinking, "All these people moving to Hawkins and it kinda sucks there." Then a light bulb went off. "Wait, Max also had to move to Hawkins because of something Billy did." And it spiraled from there. Nevada isn't California, but I bet Billy, Max, and Henry all preferred living where they were before they had to move to Hawkins.

I wouldn't exactly call moving across the country traumatic, but Henry could possibly relate to Max's feelings of isolation and moving with your dysfunctional family so that things would "get better" but they do not get better at all.

If we look at the play again and coat Max and El a little bit in Patti and Henry's colors, then I guess Henry and Max can relate to the isolation of losing your closest friend, but that's a stretch I admit.

I could make another header for Billy but I think I'll just leave him in Max's section since the situation is pretty identical. Billy is a mixture of Max and Patrick, he's way closer to Henry's situation than Max is.

#5: El.

This one is so obvious that I don't need to go into detail but it still needs to be said. Henry and El's stories are extremely similar. The super powers. The lab. Brenner. The kidnapping and isolation in general. The experimentation. Being forced to kill things. Afraid of hurting people because of your powers.

She even shares the "being separated from the people you care about" stuff, she's had to deal with that multiple times on repeat.

Luckily for El, all of her real parents are chill (Terry, Hopper and Joyce) so in that regard, other than Hopper being a punk bitch a few times, she's been blessed there.

#6: Will.

Finally we get to Will. It's interesting how different Will and Henry's stories are and yet they're also so similar.

Will has an amazing mom but an absentee dad. It's hard to say what is worse between Henry and Will's situations but at least Will had support at all with Joyce.

Apparently, Henry also disappeared once into the Upside Down and returned a completely different person. Not only that, apparently Henry was possessed by the Mind Flayer in the same manner that Will was. This is so obviously related to Will's story that I don't think I need to expand on it.

Like El and Max, Will also had the pain of moving away from most of the people he cared about, though this pain is very understated for Will in the show. Will seems pretty content with just having his family and long distance friends even though the long distance friendship was secretly eating at him too.

Apparently in the play, Virginia forced Henry to visit the "doctor" (lab) like Joyce did to Will. Someone described it as almost exactly like the beginning of season 2. Not only was Henry's lab experience just like El's, but Will's as well. Luckily, Will's doctor was Owens and not Brenner, though I'm sure Brenner was watching (I got an ask related to this btw I will get to it because I wanna talk about this more)

If Henry's life was segmented into parts, then it'd be "before the UD", "after the UD", "before the murders" and "after the murders"

Chrissy, Patrick, Max and Fred are all "after the UD" and "before the murders". A part of Henry's life that is seemingly drastically different than the life he had before.

El is "after the murders". His life in the lab leading into who he is today.

Will is.... a little bit of everything. He was Henry "before the UD" and "after the UD", that transition into a different person specifically after the UD experience. He's also "after the murders" when he's possessed by the MF and "before the murders" when he's a little bit of a lab rat at Hawkins before things go south.

Through the circumstances of the show, Will has literally become the closest person to Vecna. They'll likely understand each other more than anyone else, which kinda sucks for Will.

But I suppose the fundamental difference between them will be.... El. Funnily enough. You know how Henry (and Kali) taught El that hatred and sadness is the key to becoming more powerful? Well, El has already discovered that love is infinitely more powerful.

Not only that, El has chosen her friends and family. She rejected Henry. She rejected Kali. But there is one kid she hasn't rejected that could really use her insight on breaking through the pain to find something greater.

[hopesangelsprite]

Rock, Paper, Scissors (KTH)

(A/N): HIYA BABES!!! This is a bit of a long one so bear with me! It's fluffy, there's a lil bit of crack in here, and a smol amount of spice (nothing too serious)! I hope you lovely people enjoy it <333

"Rock..."

"Paper..."

"Scissors!!"

"FUCKING HELL!", Tae shouted while I doubled over in laughter. This was probably the sixth time he'd lost to me at rock, paper, scissors and he was getting frustrated. To be fair there were some pretty high stakes on the line. The bet the two of us had made in boredom was pretty simple, the loser would give up something of theirs for 24 hours or perform a service of some sort for the winner. In the beginning, Taehyung was confident that'd he'd be the winner after two consecutive wins, but his luck turned sour pretty quickly. "What's up with you today, dollface? It's not like you to go on such a long losing streak.", I teased once I'd recovered from my laughing fit.

I watched with great amusement as his eye twitched at the sound of the pet name usually reserved for myself being used on him. With an inward breath, he extended his fist in front of me again, a look of steely determination filling his pretty brown eyes. "Last round, winner takes all.", he said simply. My brow shot up at his proposition, and I glanced at his hand. "You sure you wanna end it this way? I mean it's not like you can win any other way but still...", I trailed off when I realized he wasn't going to be talked down. With a huff, I stretched out my fist and started the chant.

"Rock..."

"Paper..."

"Scissors!!"

Taehyung cursed wildly and threw himself backward in a small fit of rage. Just as Id predicted, he'd lost again and for the final time. I smirked and started to say that I'd told him that would happen but stopped when he shot me a look from the floor. He was already upset, rubbing salt in his wound would only make that worse. That didn't make the thought of it less appealing though. Seconds later, he inhaled and got up from his spot on the floor with me and walked toward his shelf. "What is it that you want from me?", he inquired while gesturing to his array of cool and useful trinkets. For a second, I considered asking for one of them... then an absolutely evil thought came to mind. I grinned and looked at his bed. Nestled on top of a small stack of pillows was a plushie. It was cute, weird looking alien with a heart-shaped head.

He'd had it since we were kids, and it was more dear to him than his life. Once, he'd lost it on a trip to the park when we were younger. He'd cried so much that my dad turned the car around and helped us look for it even though it was getting dark. By the time we'd found it, night had fallen, but Tae's smile was so bright I was sure the sun had risen again.

The tall blonde followed my eyes and immediately shook his head. "No. Fuck no, not a chance.", he insisted while moving to stand in between me and Tata. I stood up and stretched before placing a hand on my hip. "I won fair 'n' square, dollface.", I spoke calmly, "Hand. Him. Over.". Tae closed the distance to tower over me and crossed his arms before replying, "I. Would. Rather. Die.". The stare-off that ensued after that only lasted a few seconds, but it was rather intense. Finally, another sinister idea entered my brain. If he wouldn't give me what I wanted, I'd make him suffer a little. "Fine. If you won't let me have him for the night, you have to do something for me.", I said and he sighed in relief. He nodded and uncrossed his arms before carding a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, sure. I'll do anything but hand over my son. Anything but that.", he grumbled out. Perfect. My smirk widened and I leaned forward to drape my arms across his shoulders, effectively startling him and closing the distance more. I stood on my tippy toes to whisper in his ear while feeling him grow warm under my touch. "That's great because I want you to..."

*TIMESKIP BROUGHT TO YOU BY JUNGKOOK'S TATTOOS*

I sighed and picked up my phone to check the time. Tae had left the room about fifteen minutes ago, and now he was probably standing on the other side of his door hoping I'd rescind my request. "I know you're there! Hurry up and come in.", I huffed in slight annoyance. On the other side of the door, a quiet thud sounded which probably came from him banging his head against a wall or something. "No,", he groaned out, "I don't wanna...". I rolled my eyes and sat up from my spot sprawled out across his bed. "It's either this or Tata who just happens to be in here with me while you're out there.", I replied. The door opened so fast I wasn't even able to process what had happened. Standing in his doorway was a very grumpy-looking Taehyung in a cosplay I'd requested. See, I hadn't just requested any old cosplay. No, I wanted him to wear a ladybug costume.

I squealed happily and threw myself off the bed to pull him into the room. I grinned as I began cooing over the little details of the outfit. "Awww, don't be like that!! You're so cute I'm gonna have a heart attack!", I whined while straightening the flower on his dress a bit and adjusting his hair. "You promise?", he asked snarkily causing me to deadpan for a second. "Oh, hush and get ready to pose. The sooner I get pictures, the sooner you can take it off.", I answered while leaving him be to get my camera ready.

(A/N: LOOK HOW FRICKIN ADORABLE HE ISSSS!!)

A couple of seconds later, I was trying to find the best angle and lighting for the pictures to be taken. "Who knew those photography classes would finally come in handy...", I muttered to myself while making a couple more adjustments to the lense, "Alright! Let's do this.". Tae huffed and moved into the pose we'd agreed upon earlier. I snapped a couple of photos before playing around with the lighting some more. All I need was two more good shots and we'd be done.

"Okay, pretty boy, show me that million-dollar smile!", I cooed and prepared to take the final shots. From the viewfinder, I could see Taehyung smiling but something wasn't quite right. I stood up straight and pouted. "You're fucking with me, right?", I sighed to which he smiled a little more aggressively. "This is as close to a real as you're getting.", he grunted. I sighed through my nose and looked at my camera again. It looked like I'd finally reached my limit with him. "It's cool, the first few shots came out pretty good. I'll use those. You're free to go!", I shrugged and separated my camera from his tripod to get a good look at the pictures I'd taken. From his spot near the wall, Tae gave me a suspicious look. "Really?", he questioned to which I responded with an absentminded nod. Though I couldn't see it, his eyes narrowed more.

A few moments of silence passed, and I assumed he'd slipped out to go change again. Judging from a sudden nudge against my shoulder I was wrong. I looked from the camera and raised a brow at the boy standing at my side. "Can I help you or...?", I started but cut myself off as Taehyung pulled me from my seat and back in front of the tripod. I stared in confusion as he moved back to his position near the wall. "I said I could use the pictures from before. We're cool, don't worry about it.", I spoke flatly while gesturing between him and I. Instead of saying anything, he just smiled. It was a real smile this time, genuine and pure. I weakly fought back a smile of my own and shrugged. Within the next few minutes, the pictures had been taken and he'd left to change back into his lounge clothes.

By the time he had changed, I'd successfully moved the photos from my camera to my phone and edited them accordingly. As he entered the room, I looked up to see him put his hands into his pockets. He honestly looked pretty cuddly from where I was sitting, but I'd never say it out loud. "Look!", I beamed while turning my phone's screen toward him and showing off my new home and lock screen wallpapers. Both of them were cute collages I'd made with the pictures from earlier. "Pretty damn cute if I do say so myself!", I boasted full of pride and happiness. He hummed in agreement and crawled onto the bed to rest somewhere behind me. I continued to fawn over my screen but was abruptly startled by being pulled back into a warm chest.

"Sorry.", Tae muttered into my neck from behind me causing me to shiver. I cleared my throat and tried to regain my composure. "What for?", I asked to which he pulled me closer to him. "I upset you earlier, I'm sorry.", he said sending yet another wave of shivers across my body. "Oh, that? It's alright, you're fine! I wasn't that upset anyway.", I tried to assure him. He just chuckled and kissed my shoulder. "Yes, you were.", he insisted. I rolled my eyes childishly and wiggled around to face him.

"Was not."

"Were to."

"Was. Not."

"Were. To."

"Was! Not!"

"Shut your mouth before I put it to good use."

I gulped and warmed considerably. "Wasnot-", I rushed out only to be cut off by a quick kiss from the sleepy-eyed boy across from me. He pulled me closer, tangling our legs together and squeezing my waist. After a few breathless moments, we pulled away for air. He glared softly at me as if daring me to continue my petty arguing. "Okay, maybe I was just a teensy bit upset before.", I admitted earning a chuckle from the tired boy and another, softer, kiss. "I hate you so much sometimes.", he drawled. I rolled my eyes and smirked knowing he was lying to both me and himself. "Bullshit! I love you and you love me. You know you do~.", I teased to which he nodded and pulled me as close as he possibly could. "You're right, I do love you.", he breathed into my shoulder. I kissed his temple and let myself be lulled to sleep by the comfortable silence just as he had.

THE END

(A/N): HELLOOOO!! I hope you enjoyed this story, because I accidentally made myself feel lonely as fuck while writing it! Currently preparing to sleep in traffic 😁👍(I'm just kidding for the love of God please don't go to sleep in traffic FFS-)! ANYWAYS, please take care of yourselves. Remember to eat healthily, stay hydrated, and take care of your mental health. Please be safe, and if you can't be safe try to be careful! I LOVE Y'ALL SO MUCHHHHHH <33333

[letters-to-forever]

Death. She looms within every corner, but afraid I've been not for a while. The thought of you does; I fear you more than the ultimate reality of every man. Will death take away the agony of you? I fear it will be powerful enough to take you from me, the thought of my hands tracing your soft lips as I kiss the back of your neck, working my lips lower and lower. Giving you love, my love that I hold for you and you alone. Will death take away the pictures of you I painted in my head? They say I will lay six feet deep within the soil as the earth will consume me, but will that be enough to wipe the fiction my brain created for the both of us? Dare they say a word without knowing what I've felt for you.

Dare they tell me I will not become the wind when you miss me and flow in your lush brown locks. Dare they tell me I will not become the rain and pour down from the sky when your eyes turn moist at the thought of us. Dare they tell anything without knowing what I've felt for you. I imagine us even when the clock that timed us stopped ticking. Death won't stop me when I think about my hand tracing your bare back and my lips marking you for the world to see you're mine. Because I'll tell you one thing: I've lost you to the mishaps of life. But you belong to me, and my love for you has no mortality. The soil I lay deep in will remember your name. My soul, when it reaches the gates of God, will chant you and you only. But the world must have never known how much I have loved you.

[shummashum]

Zeus Brundle Ch7 [6~10]

nod nod Please scold them very hard!! Both of them are slacking off!! not ideal

ooh Klaus is watching today ooh… it must be tough ooh… they're screwed

um well didn't she start the fight first does she have the right to say something like that

erm umm a bit?

Anyway, the three walked into the Headmaster's office.

hello Mr. Rembrandt, long time no see

honestly I don't want him either feels like I'll be scolded right away if I do something wrong

Remb revealed that he was the one who gave Klaus permission. (duh) Nevertheless, Zeus continued to express his dissatisfaction.

refutation ! ! somebody bring an air horn you're something Headmaster you're quite a logic king

So the trial started I'll definitely avenge the humiliation of the past and prove my superior intelligence

okay, let's warming up my brain

There is a saying that a machine can be repaired by hitting it, but it sounds too unintelligent so I won't say that method I'll have to think of a way to remove the spell first

Gemini, huh it means the twins twins… twins, he said… do they have to chant spells at the same time or something

huh it was too obvious there must be something else hidden

huh......... the conditions are quite tricky is simply making a sound the right approach is there some other way or is it just a test to evaluate cooperation

he even tell her the whole spell, then it's really just an evaluation of cooperation eh what I expected the intelligence stuff this is not what I want I cannot avenge the humiliation of the past at all in this state

and she can choose a partner? what does it mean of course she has to do it with Zeus their relationship was between the Prefect and the Prefect candidate in the first place it's natural for you to be with him, don't you think why did they give me this option anyway

of course it's Zeus No matter how much that guy says shit all the time, he is her judge in the end!

don't you get mad this is natural it's only natural that you choose him he knows it too, and that's why he shows that attitude

eh what wait wait wait wait it's not Zeus? aren't you supposed to be on a team with him oi what

So Liz chose Klaus and they ended up working on a task together. what

but nothing happened he's going to laugh at her from behind

tlqkfzz why is this real my brain is in sync with his damn I'm screwed

You know, this requires matching the tone, intonation, and even the volume, I don't think simple mechanical repetition will work. I think we need a more detailed approach

aah scolding mode on um, you know, the way I see it is: if she teams up with Zeus, fight like hell, blame each other when the timing is off, and get pissed off that they chant almost screaming the spell, the problem will be resolved

right now, Klaus is unilaterally giving orders to Liz… well I don't think Remb created this test because he wanted that kind of thing

it's a test of cooperation, maybe she should focus on exchanging opinions

what what the heck does this work what this wasn't what I expected

no way was this all overguessing no fucking way was it a problem that could be solved through simple mechanical repetition this can't be happening I cannot tolerate this do it again again ! ! !

woah I feel betrayed what the heck I feel so fucking betrayed oi Headmaster is this right is this your intention

hmm,,,,,,,,,,, what are the chances that this is significant info on his backstory no stop overguessing don't overguess and get betrayed, don't use your brain

well he let her pass at least yeah yeah thank you sir it's a pass-fail system anyway, what he said doesn't matter because she passed

[cipheramnesia]

It wasn't like Dr. White promised. She did get some blue jeans, and a tank top that was pink with a yellow flower on it, but she was still handcuffed to the inside of the truck. The women at the desk by the big glass double doors with push-bars weren't as nice as the women on the deep back floor where Alice lived.

"You should keep candy at your desk," she suggested, chained to the door and waiting.

The girl laughed. "Thanks, I'll think about it." Alice was pretty sure she wasn't going to think about it, and she definitely didn't get a candy dish.

There were only two police in the truck now, and they always sneered at her. She thought they were sneering. Dr. White always acted happy to see the police, and he would use their names, but Alice could see they were annoyed by it.

The police also made special effort to call her Alice, and they definitely could tell she didn't like it, because once she told them, "I don't like it when you use my name all the time and Alice isn't my name anyway." The truck went around a very sharp turn and the policeman in the back seat fell against Alice, and then where Dr. White couldn't see he punched her very hard in the kidney. So Alice mostly just kept trying to stop from throwing up and also didn't talk to the police.

Sometimes they would drive around the larger city south of the institute and nothing would happen. But a lot of the time Alice got to watch people using guns or swords or chants to make a cheerful breech in the fabric of reality withdraw back into itself. Dr. White said it was okay to try to pull threads out of them and she wrapped the light around her heart and it made her spine and brain feel strong.

Sometimes she saw the girl with the giant mechanical arm and she always forgot about the light and the thread. She could pretend like she didn't hear the police say, "Looks like the kid's got a crush on Jill." And then laugh because they thought it was mean, and Dr. White also would laugh because he wanted the police to like him.

Sometimes Dr. White would ask her other things. "Alice, can you take the light and wrap it like a thread around the molecules in the sky? You remember what molecules are right?" She remembered and tried to see if she could do that. Dr. White told her to stop right away and wrap up the thread, and the police laughed. Or he asked "Alice, can you find a way to shape the light in a square or a circle? Can you make it stay in a single pattern?" She didnt understand that very well and it didn't work.

They would drive an hour back and walk her through the glass doors past the lady at the desk, and put her back in the little room. She would lie on her mat and look at the light all over the building, and then look at her hummingbird pendant, turning it over in her hands. She could make light play around it easily, and it felt warm to let all those threads in her wrap the pendant while its warmth flowed into her body.

The next time Dr. White came to her room with Sonny and handcuffs she just lay in her mat and said, "I'm not going out anymore. It's boring and you all keep me locked up. I would like a yogurt please." She could ask for one special dessert per week.

"Alice, you've done such important work so far, and th- Well and you could help us all more." He was restlessly squeezing the hand she had both stabbed and bit in his other hand. She thought if she ran into him really hard, maybe she could knock him over and hit his head on the cement floor.

"Well I won't go and if you make me go I won't do anything."

For one moment he looked angry and then he shifted and relaxed. "Okay Alice. I'm going to see if we can get permission for the cuffs to be off. I want to try the next phase for you anyway."

She didn't get to ask what that was, because he waved in the phlebotomist to draw her blood and left her room. She tried to imagine it much later in through dark, but her thoughts strayed back to the woman in the motorcycle helmet who made her feel a different kind of warmth, which she enjoyed the rest of the night.

Dr. Stevenson would have had to take Athena when she was a very young child. Maybe four years old, give or take. It could happen so many ways but it would have been so very easy for her to put just a little pressure on one or two people to have CPS take custody of the girl. This is all just a dream, and Athena's whole life after that is one neutral colored room after another with a slightly different ergonomic office chair every few years, and her only solid memory to hold on to is a reflection of light off water. Sand and water, surrounded by big trees with branches all bent heavy and green. A half open, half broken rusty gate clinging onto a couple concrete pillars long bereft of their accompanying wall. Athena would hold onto that for dear life, treasure any little sliver of color from a light blue hoodie to a cheap pair of headband bunny ears to blue and yellow rain-boots. They would have accumulated over the years of the taped on monitors, blood draws, urine samples, hair clippings, annual spinal tap.

Sometimes she'd go days without food, or her room temperature would swing from frigid to boiling, then the big orderly and the phlebotomist with Dr. Stevenson's sharp voice over them all would come in. "Be careful," she'd snap out, slapping off hands that gripped too tight, never once spoken out of love or even empathy. "Don't damage her, we don't know if we'll ever find another one." The concern only spoke of a rare and treasured object, perhaps a Cartier wind up music box. The others calmed her like an animal, "easy girl, just a moment and it's over." Sometimes when there was a new phlebotomist, Athena got a small piece of candy. She never had the same one more than a few months. She'd try to savor the hard lollipop or drop of chocolate and ignore the sound of Dr. Stevenson through the hollow doors, "This subject is on a specialized diet to ensure consistency of results, you are not to bring any such personal items-" and it went on.

Learning math and reading and writing after a fashion, information provided by Dr. Stevenson with grudging irritation, but once in awhile short and tantalizing sidepaths of the personal. "These sides are you, much like you and the light, you control both sides with the shared information. Oh, nevermind. Figure it out yourself." Athena would never know what kind of a monstrosity Dr. Stevenson was building from her blood and their studies, only the day that something went terribly wrong, and Dr. Stevenson didn't come to see her anymore. The time she'd showed the room the light and it hurt Dr. Stevenson, she still came back a few days later, but this time she left and Dr. White started taking care of her. He was much nicer, but wouldn't let her have her room in the dark, and did not think all the work Dr. Stevenson had been doing was very interesting. Sometimes he would talk about Dr. Stevenson's huge promotion with a sure bitterness. He showed up with a younger girl he called Alice.

[vivacia-18]

Y'know, I pass by so many "x character is the (falsely accused!) UA traitor " fics, and even clicked into a few because it hits a sweet angst spot for me. But I can never manage to stay, because I just can't get over the fact that they have a literal lie detector man on speed dial, and that... never seems to be addressed??? Or he's brought in but apparently this isn't enough proof and suspicion is still through the roof??

And I know in theory a truth quirk could be worked around, but a) that's all speculation since it's never brought up yet in canon, and b) that line of thinking never seems to be addressed anyways, and is something the detective and pro's should be used to working around?

I dunno, I guess I'm just thinking it over a lot because I want to give these fics some love SO bad, but dammit my brain just can't handwave that particular detail. I can deus ex certain things, but not that apparently -_-