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xxsabitoxx · 8 months

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Ryomen Sukuna NSFW A-Z

Part of my 20k follower celebration (past due)

Warnings: if it isn’t abundantly clear, this is smut :)

A/N: in honor of hitting 20k followers a while back, I’m going to be posting 10 NSFW alphabets for JJK men — scheduled post 11 :) - I've developed an unhealthy obsession with true form Sukuna... he is all I think about now. Forgive me because this one is for sure a bit OOC since he like... loves you

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

If you managed to break the hollow icy shell that is Sukuna’s heart and make yourself someone important to him… Sukuna is pretty damn good with aftercare. He’ll clean you up, even ordering someone to get numbing salves because he tore you the fuck up and he know’s you’ll be sore and aching within a few hours if you aren’t already. He’ll use two arms to cradle you gently while his other set works on cleaning you up and making sure you’re okay. He’ll wait until you’re sleeping to whisper praises to you, telling you that you did so well for him and that he adores you. He’ll never really say these things to you when you’re awake though.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Sukuna loves your legs and thighs, he loves your hips and your stomach too. He loves having things to hold and your body provides so much softness for him. He loves to kneel before you – that’s right the king of curses kneeling before you – to lick all the way from the top of your foot up to your inner thigh. He’ll cover your legs in bruises and bites, making sure everyone is well aware that you are his property and nobody else can have you. He adores your stomach, often resting his head against it and letting you pet his hair lovingly. Sukuna will only show this level of vulnerability to you, letting down some – not all – of his walls.

Sukuna loves his entire body, four arms, two mouths, two dicks, and all. He considers it his masterpiece and it deserves to be worshiped. He has no shame in proclaiming this either.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

If he’s not dumping several loads into your cunt/ass then what’s the point? Sukuna treats his cum just as he treats the rest of his body… It's sacred and a privilege to have it. He toys with the idea of painting your face or chest in it but ultimately doesn’t see the point in letting something so valuable go to waste. So creampies are the only way in Sukuna’s eyes. And trust me when I say this man cums a fucking boat-load. I don’t care if it’s realistic or not, he’s making you look bloated by the time he’s done with you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Sukuna would let you do anything you wanted to him… he just hasn’t found the strength to give you that knowledge yet. He hates the idea of someone holding power over him, which is why he’s ever so mildly terrified of you. You may not realize it, but you have Sukuna wrapped around your finger… that man would kill the entire planet for you if it meant seeing you smile.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Sukuna is very experienced, having tens if not hundreds of harlots laying around for his use. But that was before you. You changed his view on that sort of thing and he got rid of every single one of them… you are all he needs to remain satisfied and that is a feeling Sukuna never thought he'd experience in his existence. Sukuna knows what he’s doing and he knows what he’s doing well.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Sukuna’s favorite position is holding you up so your back is pressed to his chest. He has a hand hooked under each of your knees and he’s holding you up that way, spreading you apart further than your legs really allow. Sukuna is either sitting or standing and honestly he prefers when a mirror is present so he can watch your face contort in a mix of pain and pleasure. He has you impaled on his cock, easily able to trust in and out of you as you fall apart.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not even a hint of goofiness in this man when he fucks you. He is all about business… I mean for real it was actually kind of terrifying at first but now you’re used to it.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Sukuna doesn’t really give a shit about his hair down there… and yes it’s pink like the rest of his hair. It may sound fucking bizarre but if you want to trim and clean him up down there? He’ll let you do it. You bathe him often so it’s not necessarily out of your comfort zone to sit there and groom his nether region. He doesn’t really care what you do down there either. You can simply trim him to your liking or shave him bald. Whatever you’re into, he truly doesn’t care.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Sukuna is… romantic in his own way. He’s not detached from the situation at hand and he’s not focused entirely on himself. Sukuna shows his “romantic” side by letting you cum, maybe sparing you a few kisses, rubbing his thumb across the nail marks he left on your legs… he’s not one to say “I love you” or really express how much you mean to him. But it’s the small, subtle little things that hint towards his affection for you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He’s got four hands, you’d think he’d use one of them to get himself off but he simply doesn’t see a need for that when he can have a random whore come do it for him. When it comes to you though? You never leave him, like Uraume, you’ve earned your spot by his side. He has you to assist him with those kinds of needs when they arise (heh). Though, he’s amused you once or twice by jerking himself off for your own enjoyment. Making a show of using two hands to jerk off his two cocks but stopping just before he comes because – as i’ve said – he doesn’t like to waste any of it, not a single drop can be spared.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Slave/Master kink for one… he just likes the feeling of being superior even though he doesn't need to “roleplay” to get that feeling. BDSM… or whatever equivalent there is for the Heian period. He likes it rough, messy, even a little bloody. Sukuna has a massive breeding kink but doesn’t want kids, he just likes the idea of filling you over and over again (regardless if you have the ability to get pregnant or not). Dacryphilia for sure, your tears turn him on. Orgasm control (both denying and overstimulation) are just another aspect that plays into his love of power. Sukuna loves restraints in any form, not him, though. He will for sure try and fist you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere. Sukuna will fuck you where ever the fuck he wants too with no shame. He’ll fuck you on his bed, ruin the luxurious sheets and break the bedframe over and over. It’s gotten to the point where he actually got rid of it all together because he was sick of the wood splintering and nearly hurting you. Sukuna can and will fuck you on a raised platform in front of his petrified subjects. He wants everyone to know who you belong too – even if you don’t need to be fucked stupid in front of hundreds of people for them to know. It’s quite obvious. To be totally honest, Sukuna loves the mess and mayhem of fucking you in the tub. Watching the water slosh everywhere then ordering a maid to come clean up the damage, it makes him laugh.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

There is an innocence to you that really gets Sukuna going. You’ve done the most downright filthy things with him, you’ve stood beside him as he makes a bloody mess of someone… but somehow you still retain this sort of innocence to you that he loves to try and taint. It’s not to say you’re oblivious… you’re very smart in Sukuna’s eyes and he knows you have a mean streak. But when you’re with him… there is something about you that he wants to break so badly and he has such fun trying to do so… you’re resilient which would usually piss him off to no end… but with you it’s endearing and he can’t figure out why he can’t get enough (you’re in love dumb ass)

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Shit. Yeah no that’s the one thing he can not and will not deal with. He’s had his fair share of bodily fluids – to say the least without going into detail. But he draws the line at anything to do with vomit or scat. It disturbs him… which is saying a lot. He’s had women offered to him as sacrifice that have done several things in fear and he can say he truthfully cannot handle it. Also, no threesomes ever. He’s not sharing you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He’s a healthy combination of both (shocking). Sukuna loves watching you struggle to even take one of his cocks in your mouth nevermind both. But your mouth feels so damn good even though you struggle to get more than the tip past your lips. Sukuna loves to go down on you though, keeping your thighs spread apart so he can eat you as he pleases. Your arousal just tastes so good to him, he can’t get enough and he will not stop until he’s satisfied.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Rough and cruel for the most part. But he can be even meaner when he goes unbearably slow, splitting you open agonizingly with two cocks opposed to one just to see those pretty tears slip down your cheeks as you beg and plead for mercy (mercy he never gives). Sukuna will fuck you stupid with one cock most of the time, that’s his little bit of kindness towards you, but you’ll get fucked twice at least… ya know… gotta get the second cock off too. He’ll give you a choice, get fucked twice with one cock each time or get fucked once with two… mind you it’s never just once even if it’s two cocks at the same time or one each. You’re smart enough to take one cock multiple times unless you want to be bedridden because you can’t walk. Both options have happened to you many times though… so you really can’t tell why he offers you a choice.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Sex can take up a whole day when it comes to Sukuna. So, no, he despises quickies. He doesn’t like to be rushed, he doesn’t care if he gets caught, he’ll make people watch. What is there that would really appeal to him??? It seems more annoying than anything really.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He will experiment but only on his own accord. He won’t say it outright but Sukuna is at least a bit mindful of the experiments he does… he doesn’t want to really hurt you or scare you away. So he picks and chooses what he wants to try on you. If there is something very intriguing to him that he worries will make you uncomfortable? He’ll force two other people to play it out while he watches and decides from there… he’s oddly considerate of you in that sense.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

As you saw above… sex can be an all-day process for Sukuna. He can last as long as he wants to… and I mean that seriously. His stamina is infinite, nothing will stop him but himself. He can go multiple rounds until you’re so fucked out you’ve lost count. He can last anywhere from 15-25 minutes per round, he could last much longer but his goal is inevitably to cum so why bother… praying for you honestly.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Toys like we know today don’t exist within his era (the Heian period) and honestly?? Sukuna is a fucking jungle gym in his own right so you really don’t need toys… and even if they did exist and were at his disposal? Sukuna isn’t using them. Why the hell would he rely on a stupid little toy to get you off when he’s more than capable?? He’s not intimidated by them, he just would think they’re absolutely useless… modern day though… if you begged him for a vibrator he would probably cave and get you one. He may even find amusement in it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Sukuna and fair do not belong in the same sentence so it should shock nobody that this man will tease you until you are nearly dry heaving with how hard you’re crying. He will tease you for hours, to the point it feels like genuine torture, before he feels like getting you off. Then, the unfair attitude continues because he will not stop even when you start begging him to. He likes how quickly he can make you regret your words, seeing those pretty fat globs of tears leaking down your cheeks only makes the experience better for him.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Sukuna will curse and groan but that’s about it. He won’t try and hide his noises, either, but he will try and make sure he’s not too loud. It’s rare to get a moan, whine, or whimper out of him. Especially since he has such good control over himself. But he will not hesitate to groan about how good his cock is feeling because of you… he has to give you a little something to get you to stick around, ya know? Not that you have a choice… and not that you’d really want to leave him anyways… giving up your luxurious lifestyle and being on the king of curses’ good side isn’t something just anyone can obtain, you know.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Sukuna hates your family, ever since you were dropped off to him to be a sacrifice. He doesn’t care about his donors and their sacrifices since all of them are mediocre pieces of shit at best. Though he knows a scumbag like him is not one to talk. But you? You arrived to him nearly beaten to death, half naked, with little to no emotion left in you. What the hell was he supposed to do with that? Where was the fun in playing with something that was already half dead. Though, as he was about to kill you, something in your expression moved his icy heart. That truly petrified him but he’d never let anyone know it. He kept you instead of killing you, ordering for the immediate execution of your rotten family instead. He likes to joke that he had the perfect specimen nursed back to health, in his eyes you really were perfect.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Sukuna is a tall man… while we don’t know his exact height in true form… he’s been guesstimated to be anywhere from 7.5 feet to 9.8 feet. A tall man is going to have a monstrous cock… or cocks in his case. When he’s soft he’s about 8.5 inches in length, and when he’s hard he’s just over 11 inches. He’s monstrous, girthy and sticks straight out… both of them do. He will hurt… he will make you feel like you’re getting ripped in half and he will often try and fist you to prepare you for him. He cannot fit all the way inside of you, as much as he’d love to, he's not trying to kill you by rupturing your organs. He’s a tan color, one dick is circumcised, the other is not… he was feeling quirky, and has a deep rosy pink tip… or tips… you know what I mean.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Sukuna has to fuck you at least twice a day, if he doesn’t, he’s extremely irritable. He has at least 5 hours of his day set aside just for you. But really he makes his own schedule so he can do whatever the fuck he wants when he wants to. His sex drive is pretty damn high and he does absolutely nothing to deal with it or hold off. He will get off the moment he wants too.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Sukuna prefers falling asleep after you do, which can be pretty instant considering how long he may have been fucking you. So the answer is anywhere between 30 seconds and 10 minutes.

#jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk headcanons #jjk smut #jjk scenarios #jjk imagines #sukuna imagine #sukuna smut #sukuna headcanons #ryomen sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna

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silliersage · 24 days

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Medical expertise

Cw: health play and sadistic feeder

I have recently adored the thought of a health care worker being a feeder. I’d imagine an insanely sadistic doctor who is hell bent on making you as unhealthy and massive as possible. They start you off by offering to curate a meal plan for you maybe not disclosing that they want you to gain. As you notice the changes they insist that exercise isn’t necessary for the meal plan to work. You begin to gain weight and complain and they reassure you that they love your new size and hint that they almost like it more. They steadily update your plan to keep you growing nice and plump as you stay complacent and well fed.

After a while they tell you just a bit of their plans and whip out the funnel for the first time and now you’re in standard feedism territory. Getting fed more and more often and with bigger doses. You notice a diet change with more vegetables in it which your large piggy self obviously complains about but they assure you it’s for the best because what they’re not telling you is that vegetable increase stomach capacity. Your lack of exercise begins to catch up to you and you rely on them more and more. They begin to decrease your protein so your muscles weaken and are replaced with succulent lard.

You don’t even realize that your body has been carefully curated to be as useless as possible. You don’t even notice as your autonomy slips away. They have curated a diet that directly contradicts everything they’ve learned about keeping a person healthy. Your lard begins to slow you down at around 400 but god it feels like it’s got to be way more. They take you in as a special patient which of course means mandatory bed rest. You switch to a pure liquid diet consisting of lard ridden weight gain shakes that seem to get heavier every time.

They begin to experiment with your intake toying with your massive body as if you’re nothing but a test to them. You don’t even notice as your shakes basically become pure empty calories. You don’t even move anymore and gosh your body is getting hard to operate. You only ever use your fat hands to play games but even then you do it less and less due to their insistence that you focus on your feedings.

Eventually your body fills the large sized medical bed you’re in. Your gut spills off and your limbs don’t lift. Your mouth is constantly filled with weight gain shakes and you haven’t stopped eating in ages. You’re hooked up to oxygen tubes and a heart rate monitor and constantly complain about how tight your chest feels. They always just silence you and say “shush my little pet you agreed to let me ruin your health. Plus I think you can handle a few hundred more pounds before you can’t take it anymore”

#death feederism #death feedist #feedee encouragement #feedism writing #feeding kink #dark feederism #health play

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netherfeildren · 11 months

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Pink : Part II: I See Your Father as My Father

Series Masterlist : Part I : Part III

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Content Warnings: No outbreak AU; Welcome to the father-in-law suck and fuck extravaganza; Fix-it-fic but the thing that needs fixing is a person; Daddy issues; Daddy kink; Divorce; DD/lg dynamics; Older man/Younger woman; Inappropriate relationships; Self esteem issues; Discussions of emotional and mental abuse; Unhealthy coping mechanisms; Ass play lite; Unprotected sex; Creampie; Praise kink; Aftercare; Size kink; Spitting; Come eating; Thigh fucking; Oral sex

A/N: Check the tags on the masterlist, as well!

Word Count: 12.3K

Rating: Explicit 18+

Read on AO3

Ko-fi

2. I See Your Father as My Father

When he swings the door open, he’s still half pulling a t-shirt over his curl messed head, faded gray, rust orange longhorn across the front, a flash of hair sprinkled belly. All man, man, man. It stretches over his broad shoulders so the holes strewn there stretch and gape wide making your face heat unbearably. And he’s struck silent for a second, realizing it’s you taking up space on his front porch, trying to hide against the shadow of the wooden beam at your back, ringing his bell in the middle of the night like the Devil’s on your heels. Brow pulled low, he steps out onto the porch, into the shadows with you, his gaze flashing back and forth between your eyes. He says your name, and you hate it. “Did somethin’ happen? Are you alright?” And you want to say no, that nothing is alright. That you know you shouldn’t be here, but you’re here anyways now, and so he needs to tell you what’s going to happen next because this is as far as you’d planned. The sound of his voice, the sight of him, that’s as far as you’d planned. The rest is up to him now, even if he doesn’t know it. Your eyes fall down the long, broad length of him. Rumpled jeans, hastily pulled on, and his bare feet, oddly erotic. They’re paler than the rest of him, sun deprived, and briefly, ridiculously, you wonder if he has that funny sock tan men get around their ankles. The skin stretched over strong tendon and bone, beautifully arched. You give a tiny shake of your head, something like a whimper slipping up your throat. And you think he must realize or understand because he sighs, long and drawn out, dragging his palm over his mouth as he watches you struggle. You think that’s his tell, that dragging hand; he does it when he’s thinking, confused, worried, upset which leads you to worry that maybe he’s upset you’re here now, but it’s done, you’ve come. There’s nothing either of you can do to undo it now. Your eyes move back up to his face, and he’s taking stock of you now also. The soft, loose jersey shorts, too big pullover almost covering them entirely, the sleeves twisted around your clenched fingers. “You gotta tell me what you’re doin’ here, sweetheart. You gotta say it out loud.” You let out a rough, frustrated sound through your clenched teeth, looking away from him for a second.

“We never talked about it,” you say instead because you want to hear him acknowledge it, you want that to be said out loud.

He understands immediately, “You never gave me a chance to.”

You look back at him, he’s taken a step closer, and you wrap your arms back behind the beam, trying to meld yourself to the wood, keep yourself away from him.

“What else was I supposed to do? If we talked about it, it would’ve happened again.”

“Well, then that’s why – that’s why we never talked about it.”

“But did you want to?” And your voice breaks a little at the end, “Did you want to talk about it?”

He sighs again, a muttered curse under his breath. He isn’t going to give you the easy way out. “Tell me why he left you,” and you flinch. He, his son. It’s the truth, no reason to cower. You were left. You have to look away again, unable to confess this when looking into the kinder version of eyes that never loved you.

“I think you know. I think you could tell from the very first moment you saw us together.” He hums his agreement, and the sound fucking hurts. “He never loved me. He never even really liked me, I don’t think. But that became okay after a while.” A tear falls, and you listen to the sound of him suck in a sharp breath; it makes you smile just a little, that small sound. You look back at his face, “I don’t want you to think I’m not okay with that now because I really am. It made me realize that he’d never been what I wanted or needed either. That he couldn’t ever give me what I wanted either.”

“And what’s that?” His voice sounds gentle, but you know that it’s put on. You know there isn’t going to be anything gentle about this.

You choose to ignore that, “You know he said once, that I’d lied to him about who I was. But I didn’t– I really didn’t, Joel,” and you say it with such panic, or fervor, or something that’s desperate to ensure that he doesn’t think the same of you. That he doesn’t take you for a liar also. “He just couldn’t understand that this is the only way I know how to be. Being scared all the time makes you a liar. It makes you what the moment needs you to be no matter what that is. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “I know what you mean,” but he looks nervous, the truth of him too close to the surface, and it soothes you. The two of you are the same, you knew it.

You peek down at your twisted fingers, nails gnawed raw and bloody and disgusting. “I don’t think he ever loved me and that made me sad. But now, I don't think I ever loved him either, and that makes me sadder. It was all for nothing, I let him turn me into that thing for nothing, and I was always waiting for him to treat me better, different. But a person who can treat you badly once usually finds it quite easy to do it again.” You look back up at him, shocked for a moment at your sharp honesty. “I’m sorry. He’s your son. I shouldn’t say these things to you,” even thought it sounds like hypocrisy, for look at where you’re standing in the middle of the night.

“And you’re you.”

And the sober way he says it sobers you, recenters you. “Yes. I’ve always been only myself.” And it’s the truth, the most difficult one. That despite Sam’s claims that you’d made him believe you to be someone you weren’t, despite the sick desire for complacency, to please all those around you, you have always been only you. Even when they’d tried to force you to be something you weren’t, you were still always only yourself. You say it again, just to hear the sound of the words.

“You gotta tell me what you’re doing here then. You want to talk about that? About what happened that night? Is that it?”

“Yes.”

He sighs, that telling gesture over his stern mouth again. “If we do this, there’s no goin’ back, and I–”

“There already is no going back for me. I can’t forget. I can’t stop remembering.”

“It would be different– if we– if I take you, it’ll be different. You get me? I won’t be able to stop. I know myself well enough to know that. I won’t be able to stay away from you after.”

“I don’t care.”

“So that’s what you want?” But you can’t say the words out loud, you can’t, you can’t. You’re ashamed, embarrassed, humiliated by your own desire, small and slanted. Despite all your progress, and as much as you want it, you still know you shouldn’t. “I gotta fuckin’ hear it, sweetheart. Is that what you want?” You shake your head a little, another tear, wrapping your arms around yourself. You can see the fight in his eyes, trying to hold you off from the inside out. I don’t know, another tear. He makes a frustrated noise, turning to pace to the opposite end of the porch, hand fisted in his hair. When he turns back he seems to deflate, eyes going cool and steady and then, suddenly, like a ricochet, bright and light, a flash fire. Once more: “What do you want?” To be wanted. To be good. “You want me to kiss you? You want me to fuck you?”

And your eyes flutter closed in relief, there it is, finally, the hard part’s over. It’s been said out loud. “Yes, that’s what I want.” He’s on you in three ground eating strides, big hand wrapping around the contours of your jaw, the other fisting in the hair at the back of your head, pulling you up so that you’re balanced on the tips of your toes. Your eyes fall shut, mouth parting embarrassingly ready for him to kiss you, but he gives your head a little shake between his palms. “You’re supposed to belong to my son, goddamnit. I’m not supposed to want you like this. This is wrong.”

“I never belonged to him,” and then bitter truth, honesty laminated in humiliation, “And I don’t care if it’s wrong.” Followed by a thought, a wash of shyness, held in his hands as you are, large strong hands: there is a part of me that feels very innocent still, naive, experienced hands that will finally teach you how to be good. You watch the bob of his Adam's apple beneath the sun roughened skin of his throat, and when you look back up at his eyes, there is nothing like innocence, nothing like naivety in them, only the reflection of something complex, something more. He goes very still, almost vibrational with restraint, his fingers clench around you once, and then, with unbearable control, his hands flex open, releasing you.

“Get in the house,” he says very, very quietly. You cup your own palm around the space of your chin where he’d gripped you and turn on your toes, scampering inside, into the home of the man who would have remained your father-in-law for the rest of your life had his son ever decided to love you. The door slams shut behind him.

He steps into the dark restroom with a staying hand out and ready, as if approaching a wounded, rabid animal.

His son, his son is a cruel and small man. Joel is coming to realize this with something like horror running in currents beneath his skin. Quick to anger, quick to aggression. And you, his daughter-in-law, no one knows this better than you do. He’d naively thought, when his fully grown son had appeared at his door steps all those months ago, that the question Joel had carried on the tip of his tongue for half of his adult life had finally been answered. Alone but never necessarily lonely, something like a film of boredom and monotony over his life. He was content with the place he’d made for himself; he had his business and his brother and friends, and Joel was fine. But a child of his own, he’d never expected it, never even considered it a possibility. And what he’d come to discover: his son, who shouldn’t still be a child, but in many ways, was.

He licks at the groove of his molar as he watches the tremble of your back, trying to hide your weeping face in the shadows of the bathroom wall. A small, anxious thing that had been, out of everything, perhaps the biggest shock of all. To learn that he had a son, an entire life lost to time, and that there was someone in the world that his son should have loved enough to tie himself to – it was shocking. To discover that his son was married when Joel was not, disorienting.

He says your name softly and watches the jerk of your frame, that vein of anxiety he’d sensed in you from the get go that he was fairly certain Sam had a large part in sowing. You’d shown up with your hair picked up today, only the second time you’ve ever worn it so. Piled messy at the top of your head, a few strands laying against the nape of your neck, the vulnerable slope of your shoulder. He feels strangely afraid of you, afraid for you. Unsure of what to say, heart beating out of his chest, rebounding against his ribcage so hard he’s sure you can hear it. “I’m sorry. He didn’t mean it. He–”

“Please, don’t apologize for him.” A tiny sniffle. “Don’t apologize for him,” you say again, and there’s a hum of exhaustion in your voice, brokenness, it makes Joel go from afraid to entirely terrified, but then angry too… angry too. He takes a step forward, another, he’s an arms length away from you now. He could touch you if he was brave enough. If the intent behind it wasn’t as wrong as it is. Angry because he’s looking at that vulnerable nape, imagining the fit of his palm molded over the delicate column, and you’re something to be taken care of. Something like a gift. Even though he doesn’t know you well enough to say such a thing yet, even though he shouldn’t be thinking such a thing about his daughter-in-law. Even though you hold yourself with a hard rigidness most of the time, quiet dignity and cold vulnerability that seem almost impossible to get through. And yet he suspects that with enough care and patience you could become immediately soft, easily penetrated. He should see his son as a gift, and he does, he does, he does, he swears he does. If Joel repeats it enough times in his mind surely he’ll come to believe it with his whole heart, but what he sees more than the gift of a child that was kept from him, is nothing but a boy beating down a creature that was not taught to defend itself. And that makes him angry beyond belief.

Joel can be a hard man. He is a hard man. Perhaps, a large part of the reason why he’s still alone, why nothing more than a quick fuck ever seems to work out for him. Women like him, they enjoy his company, they come to bed with him easily. But Joel is hard and cold, and he’s never much minded his aloneness, a difficult thing to sell to a woman, the reality that he doesn’t really care to need anyone else. And so perhaps, this is his son’s inherited vice, that coldness, but despite Joel’s preference for solitude, for the fact that he doesn’t care about making a person stick around, he tries to never be cruel, and he is sure to never hurt those that are more easily hurt than himself. He doesn’t think there’s any worse sort of sin, and so he knows that this cruelty he’s witnessing didn’t come from him. But then he thinks that if it didn’t come from him, then it surely came as a consequence of him, of his absence, and so he is just as responsible for it. So he can’t help himself when, instead of more platitudes in favor of his gift of a son, he says: “You should leave him.” You let out a bitter sound of a laugh, something that pokes at that wound of fear of his.

“Should I? I don’t think that’s what you’re supposed to say.”

“Isn’t it? It’s the truth. It’s what you need to hear right now,” The sweetheart he adds at the end has a tiny shiver moving down the length of your spine that his own vertebrae can’t help but imitate. You hang your head, bearing more of that lovely nape, head seemingly bowed in supplication for something gentler than what his son can offer you, and he can’t help himself again. He wants to sink his teeth into that soft expanse of skin. You’re too pretty, pretty in all the ways a perfect thing can be, and Joel is a hard man, not a weak one, but he feels weak now. He feels brought to his knees, heavy stone of guilt weighing in his gut as he lays his palm on the back of your bared neck. Don’t touch, don’t touch, don’t touch, this doesn’t belong to you. He tightens his hand, grips the column, presses the calluses of his palm to the soft skin. “Look at me–” he gruffs, turns you by the pressure of his hand, a kitten gripped by the scruff and made to listen. “You deserve more than that shit.” That shit being his son, his blood. Joel is two feet tall and so ashamed he’s nauseous. But your eyes, they look up at him, tear filled and so lost, and he wants to show you how it should be. “You deserve more,” he says again. Later, he’ll tell himself he surely must have said the words out loud, asked for it with teeth and tongue. The blame can only be his, he provoked it, he soothed the wound, incited it, because you’re surging up and against him, fingers clawing at his shoulders and throat and pressing your mouth to his, clumsy and tear stained and open so that the first thing he tastes is your breath on his tongue, then your tongue on his tongue, and then absolution tinged with shame, gross desire like desperation. He groans like a dying man, clutching at you immediately, unthinking, pulling you into himself, soft, full tits against hard chest so that he feels like he’s burning and dying and coming back to life all with the taste of your spit and tears in his mouth. He holds you steady, hand still clamped to the back of your neck and thinks that if he’s going to commit a sin he might as well take his fill. He eats at you. Head held in place, knees bent and arm banded around your waist to bring you level with each other, he pulls your head back, mouth open and tries to swallow you whole. And Joel doesn’t think of his son, not for a single second, while he kisses his daughter-in-law.

His lips slide to your throat, hunting for your pulse, tasting the tiny flutter, going weak at the knees at the whimpered sound you make, cock harder than it’s been in years, a noise like begging, like more. He sucks hard at that thrum, but your noises shift to frightened, protesting, fingers digging into his shoulders to warn him. He can’t leave marks, he can’t leave marks on something that belongs to another. His erection is an iron band down the leg of his jeans, and he has to force himself not to thrust the aching cock into the soft apex of your thighs, feel your warmth there. He has to stop, he has to– to what? To let you go back to a boy that mistreats you? Even if that boy is his son, it’s wrong, it goes against everything Joel is as a man. He presses his face into the blistering heat of your throat, a muttered fuck under the ledge of your little chin. A rattling shiver has started up in you, teeth chattering with the force of it, and he bands his arms around you tightly, pressing the air out of your lungs, hand smoothing up to twist in the back of your hair and force you entirely still. “Don’t,” his voice is so deep he almost doesn’t recognize it coming out of his own mouth, “Don’t be afraid.” The sound of his popping knees as he unbends to his full height, your weight still in his arms. He lets you go in increments, slowly so as not to jar you further, hands holding tight until the last moment when he forces them to unclench, let you go. “Don’t be afraid,” he says again. “You did nothing wrong. This was all me.” Your eyes are huge, but you’re not crying anymore, and that feels like victory to Joel, despite the rest, the only thing that matters.

You run from him after that, because of course you do. What’s the other option? That he’d keep you there in that dark restroom, from his son and your marriage and the world, forever? He clutches at his chest and is swallowed whole by his shame and his guilt, the terrible fear that he isn’t the sort of parent that can blindly see past their child’s faults, love them despite everything else, not the type of man who can keep himself from wanting something he shouldn’t, he hadn’t felt so when he’d kissed you with that sick desperation on his tongue. And once he hears the sound of a slamming car door, and Sam’s truck peeling out of the drive and speeding away, he takes out his hard cock and fucks his fist until the heat of his semen is sliding over his skin, a handful of pathetic strokes and the sound of your name almost like a sob in the dark.

You listen to the sound of his bare feet padding across the wooden floor, and your head feels like it’s breaking water, seeing clearly for the first time in years. It’s a rich parquet, gleaming in the dim light of the street lamp glow. You wonder if he installed it himself, like the wallpaper, proof of the care and attention to detail in his home. You think you would like to be cared for as such also. There’s a soft green throw draped over the back of the chocolate leather couch, and you dig your fingers into it, twisting amidst the knitted weave as you turn to face him, and he has that look in his eyes again, the one from before. The one like too much, too much, the one like fear and want. Stopping just in front of you, the tips of his bare toes meet the front of your shoes, and he reaches to drag the pad of his thumb over the high slope of your cheekbone, the fine skin catching beneath his calluses. “You’re too beautiful,” he says, and you wish it sounded like an accusation, but it doesn't, and you want to tell him you don’t believe him, just to be difficult, just to be contrary, but you know he’s not the sort of man that lies. It only sounds like praise. His eyes are so dark in the shadow of the house, the green and brown and caramel striations gone away in the night, and he’s shifting his jaw, chewing on a thought before he spits it out. His other hand comes up to gently, so gently cup the other side of your face, and he holds you there, just so, angling you this way and that, appraising you, chewing, chewing slowly. “Too beautiful – I never even stood a chance,” he says more to himself than to you. This is a man that does things with intention. This is a man that sees you as a complexity, as something more. This is a man. “He told me something – last time we saw each other.” Your heart beats painfully in your chest, you can feel it in your eyes and ears and the backs of your knees.

“What’s that?”

“That the two of you were havin’ problems. In– in the bedroom. That–”

You try and jerk away, but he holds you trapped. “Stop. Please. Don’t–”

“Is that all this is? Older man – want me to teach you somethin’?”

Cradled as you are, you close your eyes, brow folding in a frown, unable to refute him with a shake for the way he’s captured you. You bring your own hand up to circle his thick wrist, fingers not meeting around it. He has hair here, your palm slides further down, hair here too. All man, man, man. No longer in the hands of a boy, and you’re touching him. Now you’re touching him too. “That very first time I met you– I wondered what you’d taste like. How heavy you’d be inside of me. If you’d be rough, leave marks, or gentle. You know I– I wanted– If he hadn’t been there, if–” Now he’s the one that begs you to stop.

His hands on you are tighter now, almost strangling, squeezing a moan out of you. “Are you going to tell him?” His grip goes loose again, caressing. “ If we do this– are you going to use this against him? It’s yours to do with as you will, I just want to know beforehand. It won't change the way I have you tonight.”

“Only tonight?” Your voice sounding strange, hungry.

His eyes move entirely around your face, taking you in, held as you are. His gaze is manic, fevered, but his words are slow, stacked one on top of the other for you. “No. No, I don’t think it’ll only be tonight.”

“I’m not going to use this against him.” For the first time in two years, what you’re doing, the decisions you’re making, have nothing to do with your ex-husband. This is only for you. Joel is only for you.

“Tell me what you want,” he asks for the last time.

“To be good,” you finally say, and the rough sound he makes, the flush you can faintly see crawling up the column of his throat, it has a painful knot of want tightening your cunt, the wet drip of slick pooling in your panties, all hot and bruised feeling on the inside.

He lets his hands slide slowly from your face to hang loosely by his sides, and you take it as your invitation to touch him as you like now. He’s so much taller than you, your neck craning back to look up at his face. You start there, the crest of his cheek, the strong, curved nose, plush mouth that looks specifically made for kissing a cunt until it cries. He makes your thoughts feel savage, he makes you feel like something you’ve never been before. “You’re just a little girl, aren’t you?” He says softly. Your hands move down to his thick neck, and you try and cage him there, hands too small to circle him entirely, the insinuation of a strangling. Too small, too small, too small. You shake your head, mesmerized by the contradiction of your small fragility trying to capture all that strength held inside of him. You look up at his eyes, holding him around the throat as you are, and shake your head. You’re not. “Then what are you?”

“I don’t know. I want you to show me.” And that does something to him. You see the change come over him in that very moment, something chimeral in the change your words provoke. He’s made of nothing but vibrational restraint, giving you your moment of peace to explore him as you need to before he takes you for himself. You’re almost certain you can hear the sound of him grinding his molars to dust inside his mouth. And you want him to show you, it’s the truth. As wrong or whatever it is that it may be, it’s your truth. You’d always felt like you’d done being a woman the wrong way, a grating way, an unappealing way, but you didn’t want to be unappealing or wrong. You only wanted to be yourself. And worst of all, you’d been made to feel like that, over and over again, by the man who should have done nothing but the opposite. And you know it might be bad now, to want to be shown or that there was no right way, but still, but still, you want it. You would still like for someone, for Joel, to teach you how to be better, how to be good. Was that really so bad?

Your hands slide down to the thick muscles of his chest, thumbs dipping into the dents of his collarbones, lower to the soft of his belly, the edge of his jeans. The both of you are trembling now, you in lust, desperation, him in restraint maybe. There are beads of sweat dampening the curls at his temples. “We shouldn’t do this.”

“Do you think so?”

He nods, but he’s cupping your elbows in his big hands anyway, pulling you towards him so that your breasts graze the top of his belly. “But we’re doin’ it anyway.” You go up on your tiptoes, hand cupping the sharp edge of his jaw to pull him down towards you, and he’s like a leashed wolf; heavy, hot breaths fanning across your face, and he slowly does as you bid, mint, mixed with something sharp like whiskey. He’s watching you so intently, watching to see what you’ll do with him, but your eyes are only on that soft wet mouth. You want his tongue inside of you, and that first press is so, so soft, barely there. A sound like dying, you can’t tell who it comes from, another soft brush, and you’re taking his top lip between both of yours, sucking on it lightly, hands snaking over his thick shoulders to bring yourself up closer so that he’s finally wrapping his arms around you, pressing you tightly to himself, belly to belly. He still hasn’t closed his eyes, he’s still watching you, and your heart is beating so fast and so hard and you want this so much that you’re sure he can feel it reverberating into his own chest cavity, spurring his own beating muscle on. You press another tiny kiss to his full, open mouth. “I’m scared,” you whisper onto his tongue, and he smoothes a staying hand down your spine, settling over the curve of your ass and squeezing there, holding you in his snare. He’s barely even touched you, and yet, you already know that no one else has ever been like this.

“That’s alright. Got nothin’ to be scared of – I’m gonna be so gentle with you, baby.”

“I’m not your baby,” hint of an obstinate, provoking whine in your voice.

“But that’s what you are.” He changes the angle of his descent, and now he’s the one moving in for another tiny kiss. “Just a little baby.”

“And I don’t want it gentle.”

“You’ll take it how I say. How ‘bout that?” Another kiss, and now the taste of his tongue. You’d never forgotten it, the slick, hot slide of it, from that other time. He licks into you, takes away your ability to talk. In a single blink of an eye, less than a second’s thought, he’s taken all control from you, made the game his own, and now you’ve finally gotten what you’d come here for. Now you can finally say it out loud. He wraps a massive fist around the length of your hair and eats at your mouth, makes it his more than it’s ever been yours. All tongue and teeth and wet spit, the sound of his pleasure for you vibrating in your ears, and there is it, the pressure of his hard cock as he slides his hand lower, between your legs to feel the heat and damp of the pussy that’s wet only for him, pulls you further into himself. The heft of the bulge has you whining and squirming in his hold, clawing at his shoulders and the skin of his neck to climb up the length of him, get closer, get more. You want that cock, you want it inside of you, filling you with its weight and its come. You’ve wanted it from the first time you’d met him as his daughter-in-law, standing beside his son in the place of his wife. You’d wanted his cock more than you’d ever wanted his sons, and you’re only ashamed that you’re not ashamed at all. And he tastes that desperation on you, nips at your lip with a gruff settle, a little yank of your hair to tug your head back and unlatch his mouth from yours, sliding in a wet trail to your neck, settle, settle. He bites at the line of your throat, hard. Sucks even harder, leaves a mark, leaves a claim he wasn’t able to last time. The deeply rumbled sound that comes from him attests to his intention and your answering, whimpered mewl is nothing but a cry for more; I know, baby, I know, he whispers into your ear. His mouth moves down your chest, pulling the already stretched neck of your pullover wider to nuzzle at the deep groove of your cleavage. You want to ask him if he’s worried, guilty, if he’s wanted you for as long as you wanted him, if he was hard when you kissed him that night in his little wallpapered restroom, but then the heat of his mouth is clamping around your nipple and sucking, wetting the fabric of your top with his tongue, biting down at your breast, the sharp of his teeth clamping down around your sensitive flesh, nothing but your soft sleep bra beneath to protect you. You yank hard at his messy curls, trying to pull his punishing teeth away and pull yourself closer, all at the same time. His eyes flash up to yours, mouth latched at your breast, cheeks hollowing as he takes a hard, wet pull and there’s laughter in his gaze, hot and bright and infectious. “I’ll be gentle, but I’m not gonna be nice, baby.” He nuzzles into the wet spot left behind, presses another kiss, soft and conciliatory now over your throbbing nipple. “You want me to be nice? Want me to be nice to this little pussy?” He rubs the flat of his fingers over that desperate place between your legs as he turns to walk the two of you back towards the front of the sofa. There’s no response to be given, mouth hanging open, eyes wide. He turns to sit, pulling you to remain standing between his spread thighs, hands wrapped around your hips. “Gotta use your words, pretty baby. I wanna hear what you want.”

“I want whatever you want. I want it however you want it,” you say through your flush and your shyness. You want to be honest, not a liar here in this moment with him.

He lets his head fall forward to rest against your lower belly, nuzzles there, and you hear his whispered, Jesus, fuck, before he pulls back to look up at you, drags his palms down the back of your legs all the way to your ankles, nudging your shoes and socks off, and then sliding all the way back up, scratchy calluses making you shiver until he reaches the edge of your shorts and tucks the tips of his fingers there. “Take your shirt off,” he says gently, and you only pause for a second of timidity before you’re pulling it over your head, left only in your soft pink sleep bra not intended for the eyes of ex-father-in-law’s you’ve come to seduce. Your shyness flushes higher, burning your face, sprouting beads of embarrassed sweat at the nape of your neck. He untucks his fingers from the waistband of your shorts, smoothing his palms up the slopes of your curves, thumbs dragging up the plane of your belly, dipping into the dent of your navel to reach up and squeeze your breasts tight in his big hands, then pulls the straps down over your shoulders, the bra down over the curves of your breasts to leave them bare and heavy. And his eyes never leave yours as he gets you naked for himself, fingers sliding down your sides now to pull your shorts and panties and the scrunched bra down, the flush in his face deepening, heightening even though he’s yet to look at you. Don’t be scared, he whispers again, shaking his head a little when you wrap your arms around your breasts, trying to hide yourself away from him. When he’s taken your shorts from you, gripping each ankle to help you step out of their circle, he finally looks at you, takes in the entire bare expanse of your naked body, gently prying your arms from your breasts. “Lemme see, lemme see, you’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby.” He runs his hands all over you, the slope of your belly, lifts the weights of your tits in his palms to let them fall and sway heavily, down the outsides of your thighs and back up and around to squeeze the lush of your ass. He pulls you further towards him with that clutch on you and presses his nose into the apex of your thighs, nuzzles at the soft thatch of curls there, brings his thumb up to pet at it and breathes deep. “I like this – so pretty,” he tells you again. If it was possible for a person to die of shyness you surely would in this moment, but this was what you’d come here for, this was what you hadn’t been able to say out loud. He presses his nose there again, takes another deep breath, and then starts to mouth wetly, pressing soft kisses and then the wet of his tongue, licking and parting at your slick seam. He groans so deep it sends you to shivering, hands coming up to cover your face, to hide away from that sound of lust, the feral look in his eyes when he looks up at you with the taste of your cunt in his mouth. He starts to lap at you in earnest, closing his eyes in sheer enjoyment as he pets at your clit with his tongue, shifting his angle this way and that to get at you more deeply. He pulls one of your feet up onto the edge of the sofa to open you, and you’re jostled forward, catching yourself on his broad shoulder as he spreads and eats you. His hand on your ass shifts lower, searching for your opening from behind and starts to pet at you there too so that he’s coming at you from the front and the back, and it’s too much, his sucking mouth and probing fingers. Your standing leg buckles, and he’s forced to pull his mouth from you, steady you. You let your knees give out slowly, coming to a folded kneel between his legs. He leans forward, mouth glossy with your slick and pulls your face to his, chin pinched between his fingers to kiss you, and the taste of you on his tongue sets something off within you.

Suddenly, your shy insecurity doesn't really matter as much with the flavor of your pussy on his tongue. You surge up on your knees, pressing closer to him, pulling him to you with your arms twisted around his neck, moaning into his mouth as you taste the sweet muskiness on his tongue. Like kindling catching fire in your veins you start to claw at him, pulling at his clothes, his hair, scratching at his skin. He half pulls you up and on top of him, your steaming hot form, entirely bare and naked on top of his clothed one. You can feel the heft of his cock against your belly, grinding there, trying to find whatever friction possible, and he makes a frustrated noise at the back of his throat, pushing you back down onto the floor and pulling back to open his jeans. He’s panting and sweating, chest heaving and cheeks flushed a bright red. He wants you just as much as you want him. And it’s bad, it’s bad and wrong to compare, God knows, but when he finally pulls his cock out, he’s not wearing anything beneath his jeans, you know that this is a man unlike your husband ever was; long and thick, fucking big, swollen, flushed tip peaking out from soft surrounding skin, leaking a clear slick of drool. He takes it out and sits back, pushing his hips forward to settle into his seat and stretches his long legs on either side of you. You listen to the sound of the scooting coffee table as he shoves it back with his foot. His cock arches obscenely from his open jeans, and you reach up slowly, a little intimidated, to circle it with your fingers delicately. “You’re so hard,” you whisper.

He drags a gentle hand over the crown of your head, pulling the hair tie from your ponytail as he goes. “This is how much I want you. This is all you.” He circles his big hand around your much smaller one, squeezes his big cock tighter with both of your hands, and you flush with a pleasure so intense it’s almost painful. You can make a man hard, the proof is right here in front of you.

He’s uncut, and that’s doubly intimidating. “I’ve never seen one like that,” he pulls your hand up slowly with his, squeezes and twists hard at the sticky wet tip.

“It’s okay, baby,” he croons, looking down at you with a maniacal sort of glint in his eyes. “Just open your mouth,” he wraps his other hand around your jaw, “You don’t need to see it if it’s inside you,” wedges his fingers between your molars over the skin of your cheeks, prying your mouth open. You bend your head forward, tongue hanging out, and he taps the heavy weight of his cock there, jostles the wet tip slightly from side to side, the wet sticky sound of it has your pussy clenching around terrible emptiness. He slides his hand up your cheek, twists his fingers through your hair and directs you how he wants you, slides his cock further back on your tongue, and you wrap your lips around him, give him your first real suck, tongue swirling gently around the fat head. Pulling back with a sharp hollowing of your cheeks, he squeezes his fist around yours almost painfully, and you press an open mouthed kiss at the spongey tip, gently tonguing the slit, lapping at it with the flat of your tongue like a little kitten. The sight of you licking his dick has him groaning, bearing the white line of his teeth at you.

“You taste so good,” you say up at him with big wet eyes, “Like I always imagined you would.”

“Fuck–” he snarls, “Killin’ me,” and he’s jerking you up off the floor roughly, pulling your knees apart to settle you in a straddle on his lap, pressing you close with a hand on your ass so that the wet heat of your cunt is meeting the heat of his cock. The both of you groan like it hurts, like you’ve been waiting for this for longer than is right, and he pulls your mouth back to his, wet and messy, sucking on your tongue, gripping your hair so tightly, your eyes smart and water. You claw at his shirt, pulling it up, trying to get at his skin, and he pulls back suddenly, frustratedly ripping it over his head, and then coming back to your mouth, single minded in his dedication to having the taste of you on his tongue. You try and grind down on him, but he hitches you up higher so your breasts are level with his face. “This’ll be over ‘fore it’s even begun if we’re not careful,” he laughs as he settles you, cunt leaking against his stomach and turning the hair there sticky sweet with your slick, and slots his hand between your thighs, gives you something to rub yourself against while he kisses you. “Oh, baby, you’ve got the wettest little cunt,” he says between kisses, lips sliding down to suck at your neck, lifting your breast to his mouth to lick and bite at your swollen nipple.

And past sense, past restraint, you beg: “I want your cock, please, I want it so badly.”

“Nuh uh,” he grunts, “Not yet. You’re not ready.”

You whine and beg that you are, you promise you are, but he only sucks at your tits harder, presses his hand harder between your thighs, and you can literally hear the wet squelch of your pussy as you ride his palm, your clit grinding against his belly on the forward slide as you work yourself up into a frenzy, wet whimpers and a pathetic little tear or two slipping out in your frustration to come. Need you nice and soft to take me, sweetheart, he murmurs into the tender skin beneath your chin, but he decides to be kind, crooking his finger just so that it brushes up against your clit, setting off a shivery little orgasm fluttering through your belly. He laughs softly, humoring the silly little thing wiggling around in his lap that’s so desperate to come, decides to be kinder halfway through your orgasm and starts to slowly press a single thick finger into your hungry, clenching hole. Shit, you hear his curse, while you moan and cry into his shoulder, mouthing and biting at the sun freckled golden skin there, gnawing on him like some rabid thing. And then he says, a little teasing: “Just from this, huh? Just from a little wiggling around on daddy’s lap?” sending a wash of agonized relief through you as he wedges a second one of those thick, thick fingers inside to stretch you further. It’s what you’d wanted to call him from the first moment. Just one more thing said out loud. You nod your head against his shoulder, a whine and a breath and daddy, daddy, daddy, as he stretches you; make that sound again, he begs and pets and coos at you, yes, yes, I could come from that sound alone, gives you all the patience you’d always needed. “Look at all this slick you’ve made to take my big cock in your little cunt, baby. What a good girl you are.” He twists his wrist, fucks space into you with his fingers, “You’re so fuckin’ tiny – how’re you gonna take me in this little thing, huh?” He bites down on your soft breast, encourages the sway of your hips with his fingers hooked inside of you. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it fit,” presses a kiss to your forehead, scratchy beard against the sensitive skin there, gently stroking you into another orgasm around his fingers, petting at something raw and bruised feeling inside of you, sending you to tears.

He pulls his fingers from you slowly once you’re done, leaving your body to tighten and gape around terrible emptiness, and you feel the wet smear of your come on your asscheek where he grips you, searches and pets your asshole to slick it with your wet. “You want daddy to fix you?” He says then, “Want me to make you all better? S’what you want, right?”

You nod slowly, sniffle, “Make me good,” you mumble into his neck.

“But you’re already good,” and he takes away all your choices, the ability to argue or refute, “You’re already so good. A perfect, gorgeous girl.” Kindling in your veins, madness, something more desperate than anything else you’ve ever felt in your entire life, true hunger. Worse than your desire for your father to understand you, to love you, to not be angry, your fight to keep a husband that would have never stayed. You reach for his cock, trying to impale yourself on it blindly, shifting to press the hot, blunt head at your wet opening. He moans like a dying man, “Wait– wait, lemme get a condom.” He sounds like he’s begging.

“No, please, now.”

“Fuck– fuck, you’re so eager to jump on my bare cock without a rubber or anything.” But it’s only because no one has ever touched you like this, and when he grips the thick root of his cock and notches it as your cunt, pushes inside slowly, you realize he’s doing it in a way that makes you understand the difference between the man and the boy.

“I need to feel your skin,” you sound like you’re begging now too. Sighing in relief when he starts to stretch you, when it starts to hurt. It’s slow going, fitting the largeness of his body into your much smaller one. But his hands are steady and soothing as he works you down another inch, another, let’s you fuck yourself on his cock. Murmured praises and all of his desire for you and yeah, just like that, take daddy’s cock, until he’s fully seated inside of you, holds you down, presses and grinds there, thick tip made fatter by his foreskin kissing your cervix. Finally, he pulls you back by the hair, and your father-in-law’s cock is inside of you. “Want you to look at me while I teach you how to fuck– how to take a cock,” because he knows, because he’s always known, had the gross ability to read you exactly as you are. He shifts his hips back, presses up, up, up, inside of you, and his eyes are so beautiful, and he teaches you how to take a cock, not a little girl now, only a woman. You wrap your arms around his neck, kiss his face, lick his tongue, nibble on his ears, feel him all over, he’s all over and everywhere, and it should maybe be humiliating, riding the cock that made the man that was your husband, it should feel wrong or something like a sin, but it only feels, instead, like it was made for you. Like this is where you should have been all along. Once you’ve adjusted, he grips your hips tight and harsh, makes your skin smart enough you know you’ll have bruises in the shapes of his fingers and pounds up into you, the slick slide of your cunt sucking him deeper, taking him as hard as he wants to give it to you, swollen and sensitive, squeezes your ass and grunts and moans and says, yeah, baby, bounce on this fat cock, like it’s the only thing you’d ever have to do for the rest of your life. You wish it was. And the sounds he makes, that’s what really makes you come again, what sets off your orgasm while you’re riding him – the desperate, rough sounds of a man fucking up into a tight, hot cunt that’s wet only for him. It coils in you so tight it hurts, it hurts, and then goes loose and fluttery, pussy flooding around his thrusting length. You can’t even moan, mouth hanging open, proably drooling a little, probably crying a little, nothing but hot air and wet and not a little girl anymore, only a woman, and he doesn’t gentle, fucks you harder, rougher, squeezes your ass and chases his own orgasm. His thrusts going sloppy and uneven, his moans turning to cracked whimpers.

“I’m not on birth control… but– but my period’s soon,” you whisper into his ear, and he makes a noise not wholly human, going still for a moment, throbbing inside you, thinking, thinking of the risk, decides he doesn’t give a fuck by the murmured, fuck it, I have to, and starts to move again, harder, hurting on every punch up against the mouth of your womb. I have to, is what he says, and that settles something inside of you. “Gonna come in this pretty, tight cunt. Gonna make it all mine.” You decide you don’t really give a fuck either. “Make daddy come. Squeeze down on daddy’s cock – yeah, just like that. You wanted to play at being the big girl? Now m’gonna treat you like one – gonna fuck you full, baby.” And you’re nothing but want and yes and please and thank you, daddy. And that first spurt, that hurts too, burns you, changes something inside of you that you know will never go back to the way it was before. You’ll want that hurt for the rest of your life, and you won’t ever be able to forget it, and it might be the worst thing that’s ever happened to you, but the heat of it spurs on another small orgasm of your own, jars you with the swell and throb of his cock, fills you till the come from your cunt is leaking down onto his slick balls and the leather beneath. And he holds you through the whole thing, stroking and squeezing and tasting, taking sips of your mouth, pressing his breath back into you, breathing life into you. No longer a ghoul in the night either. You feel him go soft and yet still heavy inside, a muted bruise against your womb, sighing frequently as you settle, little kittenish sounds that have his spent cock stirring lazily inside of you while you leak and leak and leak and go drowsy and then just on this side of fully asleep.

“Are you okay?” You remember to ask in a small voice while his fingers play gently in the wet where you’re connected.

He makes a soft sound, like he’s humoring you, like you’ve surprised him. “Course I’m okay,” presses a kiss to your forehead.

When he shifts you off of him to stand, a protesting whine at the back of your throat, he shucks his jeans off with a soft grunt, finally as naked as you’ve been the whole time, and his cock hangs heavy between his legs, shiny with your cunt as you stare up at him while he looks down at you. Afraid for a brief uncertain second before he’s lifting you in his arms, and when he carries you to his bed after, you feel terribly like a child. Again that naivety, that hope, but it isn't a bad thing, here and now with him. Not something to be used against you, not a bruise or a wound or a lost limb, and you haven’t failed at being good because he’s already made you so.

You’re pressed right up beneath his chin when he wakes up. Your soft, warm form all along his side, lush tits and the vulnerable slope of your belly against his skin, and it feels so intimate, entirely twined around him as you are. He brings his palm up to cup the small bowl of your skull, and in the hushed morning light, your mistake breathes life into the world. Joel has always been a hard man. Joel has always been a hard man, but never weak, and certainly, not good, per se, but never cruel. But there’s something like weakness, there’s something that should be like cruelty here, waking up with you bare, still leaking his spend in his bed, and Joel can’t tell if that weakness, that cruelty is his, born of him or of his own making, he only knows that it should be here, probably is here. It’s difficult to gauge the moral acumen of what he should or should not be feeling when he has you like this beside him. And most confusing of all, that it actually feels nothing like a mistake. Only like it was always meant to happen, and now it finally has.

He’d come inside of you, worst of all, sense gone away in the night, couldn’t claim exemption from weakness now, filled you until you’d leaked down his balls, the woman who’d been the wife of his son, and he should feel guilty, he should feel disgusted with himself. A betrayer of his own child. But all he feels is that he needs it again. That he needs you again. That if he could, he’d keep you.

Joel had never wanted children. The thought or desire had never really crossed his mind… and yet– You make a sweet little keening sound in your throat right before you open your eyes, and he feels the stretch and wiggle of your little toes against his shins, the flutter of your long lashes against the tip of his chin. “Good morning.” Soft hand coming up to cover his mouth, hold him in place while you wiggle and slither all over him.

“How do you feel?” He’d expected you to be shy, regretful, nervous waking up, and to find you entirely not, to get to wake up to you like this, soft and warm and lovely in his bed smelling of his come and his sweat, smiling that pretty little smile; it’s the mightiest sort of victory. You drape yourself on top of him, all soft limbs and softer tits, and the heat of your cunt pressed against his belly as you nuzzle into his chest hair. You’re different now, compared to before, that exhaustion he’d sensed is closer to the surface now, more easily visible, as if your body’s been collecting it, pulling it from the depths of you, getting ready to finally expel it. But there’s a clarity about you now too, you’re tired, but you’re also more yourself. Or on your way there. So lovely it hurts, vulnerable and fragile but entirely yourself. Afraid too, he can tell, because it’s your right to be afraid, because it’s normal, because we’re all afraid sometimes. “Sore?” Another nuzzle, and then, settling on your cheek to look up at him with those gorgeous eyes that’d damned him from the very first moment.

“Just a little.”

“You did so well last night,” he pets your hair slowly. “You took me so well. I’m so proud of you.” And oh, you like that. Blooming, the temperature in your body seeming to spike suddenly, suffusing all your limbs, radiating from your belly. Shifting and squirming on top of him. His half hard erection, trapped between the two of you, aching already, and you try and rub yourself all along its length, hitching a knee up by his hip to open yourself. He gives you a rough sound to settle, but you want something from him now, trying to rub your wet pussy all over him. If he was younger, a man of less control, he’d be fucking into you already and without thought. “It’s time for listening now, little girl.” He grips your hair tightly, tilting your face up to look at him, uncurls his fingers to cup the small bowl of your skull and hold you in place. “Sometimes people need time, sometimes they need us to be patient with them, wait for them. That’s what you needed, and there ain’t anything wrong with that. And you’re not gonna feel bad or less for getting there a little more slowly than others. Everything comes in its due time, and that’s okay.” You’re staring up at him, wide eyed, something like fear or panic, but you’re going to listen to him if it’s the last thing he does. He fists your hair again, gently forces your head into a nod. “Agree with me now. Say yes.”

“Yes, daddy,” you whisper very softly, pressing up to peck him lightly on the mouth. He catches you by the nape, a kitten picked up by the scruff, and holds you there, immediately turns the kiss wet and savage. You feel, so much, like you’re his, and this terrifies Joel. You aren’t his to keep, he knows this. He is not unaware of what’s happening here, of the consequences. He is not delusional about how this will end. But still, but still, you feel like his.

You’re back to you’re squirming now, whines and pleading moans as you try and rub yourself against his cock, and he reaches down to cup you, gently fingering at your folds, feeling the havoc he’d wrought on your pussy last night. “You’re so swollen, baby. Can’t fuck you again so soon.”

“Please, daddy, please, please. I can take it, I promise.”

“Not gonna hurt my soft little cunt.” The start of another whine, but he cuts you off, gives you a staying look, cranes his neck to lick into your mouth. “I’m not.”

“I want you so badly. I want you to make me come.” Tiny kisses and kitten licks to his jaw and throat. There’s fire in his belly, cock throbbing something fierce. He grips beneath your knee, opens your leg and pulls back to slot his cock between your thighs, up against your slick, swollen cunt, then presses your thighs closed back together tightly.

“Just like this – how ‘bout that?” He says as he starts to thrust up slowly against your pussy, trying to keep his movements gentle, careful not to hurt you. He runs his palms along the length of you, squeezes your tits and pinches and plucks at your swollen, sucked dark nipples. The signs of him are all over your body, and it makes him something like wild, infuses him with something like madness. Joel has never felt like this about any woman, ever. And to have it be you – to have this happen to him with you, there is something like weakness and like cruelty here. He needs to keep his head on straight. Remember what can and cannot be. He squeezes your ass tightly, digs his short-shorn fingernails into your soft cheeks, brings one hand up to get his fingertips spit slick, and then pulls your cheeks apart again to pet at your asshole. His gut goes tight and fire hot, he wants to fuck you here too. He wants all of you to be only his, his, fucking his. You hitch your hips in a desperate little arc as he presses gently on the tight ring of muscle, teasing you. “You like that?” He gruffs. “Want me to fill your little ass too, sweet girl?”

Yes, daddy, and he’s sure those must be the greatest words ever uttered to any man in all history.

“You make the prettiest sounds,” he says while you sing and moan for him. “When I touch you like this,” he moves down to the wet mouth of your cunt, taps on it gently, “And like this,” further, a flutter at your clit while he fucks between your thighs, “And the way you cry when you come for me,” back up to press at your asshole again. “Will you do it for me again?” Christ, he’s going to end up taking you if he doesn’t stop, and he will not hurt you. With a rough sound of frustration, he flips the two of you over suddenly, laying you flat, kneeing your thighs open wide and spread for him. He shakes his head down at you, squeezes his eyes shut because the sight of your bare tits and messy hair and swollen lips, cock hungry blurry eyes, isn’t helping his restraint. “Gotta stop provokin’ me.”

“But it’s so fun, daddy,” you whine, arching to brush your breasts up against his chest. He lets his head fall, opens his mouth wide and takes the whole, heavy weight of your tit into his mouth, sucks hard, bites soft, switches to the other one, gives it the opposite. He pulls back then, going to his knees between your spread thighs and holds you open for inspection. Cunt all red and swollen and shiny with slick just for him. He’s sure if he pressed his fingers inside he’d be able to feel the slippery slide of his semen still. Another shake of his head, and he runs his palms down the soft of your thighs, cups the round of your knees in his palms. You jerk the right one back when he squeezes you there, and he fingers the sore spot, “What’s this from?” bends forward to press a soft kiss to the small hurt.

“I was in a rush last night,” you say shyly.

“Rush for what, silly girl? I was right here waitin’ for ya.” Your face does a little spasm at that, confused and vulnerable and then maybe even a little hurt, brow crumpling, and you squeeze your eyes shut. When they spring open again, they’re feverish, “Please, please, fuck me, Joel. Please, I don’t care if it hurts. I don’t–”

“Quit.” He pinches the inner slope of your thigh. “Not gonna convince me to hurt you.” You moan, frustrated and wanton, on the verge of tears, petulant and trying to twist away from him, but he traps you in place, stretches himself over you, propped up by one thick arm, and you drag your palms all down the length of his chest and belly. He squeezes your jaw with his other hand, pries you wide, “Open, lemme see.” He tilts your face this way and that, inspecting the wet gleam of your mouth, your little tongue and shiny, white teeth.

“Wha’re y’lookin’ for?” You mumble with your jaw wedged open, eyes comically large.

“Hmm, wonderin’ what it’d look like filled with my come,” he says with a laugh. He feels like a teenage boy, all the excitement of discovering sex with a woman for the first time. And it makes his stomach hurt a little bit, his heart pinch in fear. He sticks his fingers in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue, widening the angle, “You think my cock’ll fit in that little throat?” And you moan, eyes fluttering shut, writhing beneath him, begging for it, a garbled groan that sounds something like please, let’s find out. “Dunno… should we?” He let’s go of your face, goes back to his kneeling position between your legs, and finally gives his aching cock the relief of his fist squeezing tightly around it. He could come just from the sight of you, he’s sure, is just there on the edge already. He squeezes hard, almost painful at the root, sliding up dry, scratchy calluses catching at the soft skin around his head to make it hurt and sting, strangling the heat he feels pooling at the base of his spine and in his balls. He smiles at the memory of your wide, comically shocked eyes when you’d realized he was uncircumcised. I’ve never seen one like that before, and all he’d stupidly wanted to say was that you’d never see any other ever again. Ridiculous.

He drags his thumb over the head of his cock, through the sticky drool of precum there, then reaches to pet through your slick soaked folds, parting you down the middle. You watch him with wide, wet eyes, as he pops his thumb into his mouth, humming around your combined tastes. “You wanna taste how good we are?” All you’re able to manage is an open mouthed nod. He leans forward and over you again, “Open,” he orders, and spits onto your waiting tongue, hand clamped around her jaw. “Close now – swallow. How’s that taste?” He asks when you obey so nicely. Your eyes flutter shut, jaw shifting from side to side as you savor the taste of your shared want for each other.

“S’good. Want more.” You look back up at him, mouth open, and nothing in his whole life has been scarier than this. Not even a twenty something year old son, who should have been a man, but was still nothing but a child in such desperate need of his father, showing up on his doorstep one day out of the blue. There should be guilt in that Sam-shaped spot inside his chest, he’s sure of it, and maybe there is, maybe there’s a bitter ribbon of guilt threaded all the way through him, but it’s also entirely overpowered, overshadowed by the desire he feels for the little girl splayed out beneath him. He pulls back again, tries to temper the rising heat in his core, takes hold of his cock again and starts to slowly jack himself. “Finger that little pussy, lemme see. Be gentle with her.” But he grips your hand right as your fingertips are about to make contact with your glossy folds and brings them to his mouth, spit slicking them, there you go, before giving them back. You play in your wet, watching mesmerized as he slowly jerks himself off to the sight of you, circling your swollen clit, thrumming at it gentle, gentle, be soft with her, petting at the leaking mouth, winking at him, begging to be filled. He shifts closer, squeezing and twisting at his tip, pulling the skin back to make the bulbous dark head bulge. He wants it to hurt, he deserves for it to hurt. You watch the rough handling of himself like you’ve never seen anything like it before, head tilted on your neck so your cheek is squished against your shoulder to get a clear view of what he’s doing to himself. “You want it so bad,” he teases, and you nod, looking back up at his eyes. He shifts forward a little closer so that the backs of his knuckles are brushing up against your sex now, wet and sticky, and you let your fingers trail up his wrist, his forearm, while he quickens his pace, moves against you, over himself. You spread yourself a little wider, bringing your knees up higher to your chest, opening yourself for him, and he pulls his hips back a little, you want to come, he can see it in your eyes, you’re almost there, presses the tip to your wet clit, slides down the to the hungry mouth, circles, circles there, presses just a tiny bit. You’re nodding your head up at him, goading him on, please, please, just do it, please. “Not gonna,” he gruffs. “Not gonna convince me.”

“You’re so mean,” you cry, arching your hips, writhing, trying to find firmer pressure.

“Didn’t I tell ya last night I wasn’t gonna be nice?” But he takes pity on you, presses the fat head just a little harder, gives you just the tip, grinding breathlessly against it, popping it in and out of your hot little cunt. “Better?” His whole body feels like one boiling vat of hot blood, sweaty and desperate, grunting, more animal than a man. “Gotta come just like this.” He quickens the jerk of his fist, bumping it into your clit on the slide forward, watches the stretch of your cunt taking just the first inch of him. He feels unhinged, thinks for one second of just fucking all the way in, hearing the sound of your cry as you take the hurt. He has to be able to do this all again, entirely, have you again the whole way “God, baby,” he groans, “You’re gonna let me fuck this tiny little pussy again, right? Tell me you’re going to let me fill it with my cock again?”

Please, please, daddy. Please. “Just do it now.” Joel doesn’t think he’s ever heard anything like the sound of you begging for his cock, anything as pretty, ever. “I– I need to–”

“I know what you need, baby. Just let daddy put his come in you, and then I’ll take care of you.” He’s just there, one last harsh squeeze and twist, and there’s warmth flooding his cock and balls as he starts to come for you, covering the entirety of your sex with his white milky spend, groaning like he’s dying. He pulls his hand from his spent cock, smearing his semen into your skin, little begging whimpers of his name and daddy, please from your mouth, and he spreads your legs and lowers his mouth to your swollen sex, eats his own come out of your cunt, pressing two fingers inside, slow and gentle as he can, to give you something to bear down on. He laps softly at your clit, soothing the ache, eats you until you’re going tight as a fist, cunt sucking his fingers as deep as it can and gushing all over his face, slick pooling in his palm where he laps and slurps at it when he’s unlatched his mouth from your pulsing clit.

“I don’t think I can stay away from you,” he tells you later, while he dresses you slowly, sits you on the bathroom counter and brushes your teeth for you with his own toothbrush and combs the knots and gnarls out of your hair. Holds your cheek cupped in the palm of his hand as he drags a warm washcloth over your sweaty face.

“Don’t want you to stay away,” you say in a small voice as you paw at his chest, twisting his t-shirt in little grabby fingers, pulling him into the cradle of your hips with sharp heels at the small of his back; needy, needy, needy thing. And worst of all, a sick part of him, something bitter sitting heavily on his tongue, wants to be the thing you need, the thing you’re desperate for, the thing you cry those pretty tears for. He’s weak now, he is. Joel finds in himself that he does have the capacity to be a weak man when the moment demands it of him. He shucks the washcloth into the sink, cups your face in his hands like something precious. He’d said once you were a gift, he’s sure of this now more than ever.

And he tells you, because he knows he must: “We can fuck, but we’re not allowed to fall in love,” and tells himself that he only imagines the glint of defiance in your eyes when he says it.

- That meeting in the dark had stayed with you, the sound of his voice telling you to leave his son, that you deserved better. The sound of his kindness, you’d stretched toward it like a flower seeking the light, the singular attention of a man like that. You’d gone over the memory of it over and over again in your mind, worn the edges of it until it was faded and worn. And when Sam had served you the divorce papers, and you’d all but gotten on your knees and begged him to please, please, stay, please, don’t leave me alone, that sound of kindness had been what you’d clung to through all the rest. That terrible clamor of failure and abandonment and not good enough, his kindness had remained, and you’re sure now, that it had brought you here too, to his home, to his bed, into his arms. This was where you’d always been meant to end up, perhaps, even from that first moment you’d met Sam all those years ago on the college green, in the arms of his father. Nothing could feel wrong after kismet like that, even if you weren’t allowed to fall in love.

Part III

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#pink fic #Joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller/reader #joel miller/you #the last of us au #joel miller imagine

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elhopperentourage · 1 month

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The “Unstraightening” of Mike Wheeler Throughout Stranger Things

Mike would never have even shown interest in girls if El hasn’t shown up. Think about it. Throughout the series we see all the canonically straight men talk about women or act a certain way about/with women.

Lucas and Dustin are both immediately drawn to Max. Steve goes through two female love interests and is rejected by even more girls. Billy goes on dates and has posters of girls in his room. The show makes it clear when a character is interested in women.

But with Mike, we don’t really see any of this. Sure, he has a female love interest, but shes always just been there to Mike.

I think it has something to do with when Lucas says “You’re just excited there’s a girl who’s not totally grossed out by you!” (or something along those lines) Mike hears this and realizes this is supposed to be an opportunity for him. He’s supposed to be interested in El romantically. Soon after that, we see Mike ask El to the snowball, but the way he asks her is obviously… kinda weird. There is literally a comparison made to El being his sister. And then they kiss… after that strange relation… mind you they’re both twelve and El doesn’t even know what it means to like something/someone yet. (as shown by her encounters with Max in s3)

My main point is, the show makes no effort to show that Mike feels attracted to girls. Other than having him date El, which is obviously an unhealthy relationship that has been pulled apart many times before.

Just think about it. The show could have shown Mike being interested in Max, like his straight friends are, but instead he’s compared to Will. They both couldn’t care less about Max, which is an interesting similarity considering Will is canonically gay. The show could have Mike chase after El, like we see with Steve and Nancy, but instead he mopes around and kind of forgets about her (because of will ‘,:| strange.) The show could have put posters of girls up in Mikes room, like with Billy, but instead Mike has… a buff dragon? and a… one way sign pointing to his closet..?

There’s just no effort -outside of his constantly failing relationship- to show that Mike is straight.

Sorry if this is a bit ramble or has already been said. It just came to my mind randomly and i didn’t want to forget about it!!

#mike wheeler #stranger things #gay #mike wheeler is gay #byler #byler is canon #will byers #el hopper #comphet #stranger things theory

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charliemwrites · 8 months

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I had a BRAIN BLAST on the way home today. So!

In the category of Readers Who Get To Do What They Want:

(CW for dark Simon, johnny, and “reader” with unhealthy relationship dynamics, gaslighting - not from who you suspect - and threats of violence)

A pair of identical twins who are basically opposites from birth. Twin 1 is obviously favored by their parents for being the “easy” twin that tries to appease them and keep the peace. Twin 2 a little hellion from birth, they think this kid is basically broken. Try to test for psychopathy but nope, their own kid has just picked up on the accidental favoritism from birth and just seems to dislike their own parents. But they still love their twin.

The twins grow up as complete opposites. Different social circles, hobbies, interests, clothes, attitudes. They’re incredibly close, but twin 2 will (and has) gotten violent on twin 1’s behalf because their parents are raising them to be “well behaved”.

By teen years, twin 2 is being sent to the countryside most summers to be handled by the grandparents. (Jokes on them, farmlife is nice and the grandparents aren’t exactly strict - mostly because twin 2 actually likes them and doesn’t see much need to rebel).

Meanwhile twin 1 is doing summer programs and learning arts, developing this intense aversion to conflict and has trouble standing up for themself. Especially without twin 2 there to lean on.

Come university, their parents insist on twin 1 staying close by for uni, essentially make the choice for them. Twin 2 decides to ship out of the country and plans on breaking off all contact. (Maybe due to some sort of unforgivable drama at the grandparents’ funeral?)

Before leaving, twin 2 gives twin 1 a burner phone with one number programmed in. Promises that if twin 1 ever needs to disappear, to be free of it all, they can call and twin 2 will be there in a heartbeat with bolt cutters for those chains. And then they just sort of… disappear.

Twin 1 doesn’t see them for *years*. Never uses that phone but keeps it.

So twin 1 lives their quaint pre-determined life with their acceptable job and it’s all mostly okay. Not bad at all. Quiet, if lackluster.

And then Simon comes along. Simon, who takes one look at this little angel and decides they have to be his. Theyre too good, too soft, unable to take care of themselves properly in this big scary world. And after all he’s suffered, doesn’t he deserve something sweet to protect? And hell, Johnny could use a kind touch every now and then too.

So he “seduces” twin 1 (aka, the dark!Simon move of just deciding someone is his and acting like it whether they like it or not). Manipulates them into stepping right into their own collar and leash, with him at the other end.

It’s too late by the time Twin 1 realizes what they’ve become - this man’s pretty pet. An agreeable little doll for him and his teammate to play house with. It’s not always bad, but it’s suffocating and scary. They feel trapped; they are.

It takes months until they get enough privacy to dig the old phone out of the place they nearly forgot about it.

Twin 2 picks up on the third ring.

In the intervening years, twin 2 has gotten into all sorts of trouble and mayhem. Become the demon their parents always accused them of being. Has, somehow along the way, joined up with KorTac and gotten all their files scrubbed. “Twin 2” no longer exists to the world at large. Nothing that anyone, even Kate Laswell, could dig up.

They get the call from their twin and break their contract on the spot. Get on a flight within hours. Sneak their twin out of the homey prison they’ve been locked up in.

Take twin 1 to a sunny, public cafe and get the story through their sibling’s nervous stuttering. Gets angrier and angrier with the more they hear, eyes fixated on the thin leather collar around their twin’s throat.

“Please just… I know it’s selfish and I’m sorry, but-”

Twin 2 already has a plan. They have a quiet, cozy cabin with comfortable funds in a rural part of Canada. Twin 1 will go there, rest and recover and be free. Twin 2 will take their place with Simon and Johnny to throw off suspicion and searches.

The scars from living the life they have? No worries. twin 2 will stage a car accident, reopen some of them to make it seem legit. Lie about head trauma to account for any lapses in their twin 1 act.

It’s decided within three hours. Twin 2 sends their sibling off to the airport and sets everything into motion. They’ve been dying to do something like this for years, after all the times their sibling stuck by their side and tried to stick up to them, to no avail.

Twin 2 instantly hates that fucking collar. Lets Simon put it on but not without the most dark look at the wall, thinking of all the ways to break his hands. Fingers twitching by their side.

The boys sit them down to watch scary movies because they always think it’s fun to spook twin 1 and fuck them while they’re all tense and shivery and but twin 2 is just watching, almost bored. Makes a few attempts to fake jump but keeps forgetting because all their focus is on not slamming a hand into someone’s dick for grinding on them.

Pretends to be asleep in the big bed they’ve been herded into when they kick Johnny or Simon off in the middle of the night. Purposefully aims for soft spots and bruises.

They try to act like twin 1 for a bit but the persona is so difficult to keep up when every little condescending comment from Simon or Johnny makes them want to start stabbing. The inside of their mouth is all torn up from biting onto their cheek and running their tongue over their teeth to resists snarling and snapping.

One day they’re going to snap… and it’s going to be so good to see these bastards bleed.

#cod #thoughts™️#my writing #fanfiction #dark fic #twin!reader #twin 2 reader #gaslight gatekeep girlboss #themboss really

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petrichormore · 9 months

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Bad is such such SUCH a good father but his self-sacrificial nature has definitely rubbed off on his children and it’s fascinating to see him struggle with that.

Bad, about Pomme being willing to die for Richarlyson: “I understand the sentiment because I would sacrifice myself for any of you. But you shouldn’t do it unless- Uh. It shouldn’t be something you rush into. (Reading Pomme’s sign) ‘Only when I have no choice’ … Okay… I’ll just make sure you never get the opportunity then.”

This is one of the most fascinating lines from q!Bad tonight in my opinion because you can literally hear him realize, in REAL TIME, how unhealthy his mindset is once it’s applied to anyone other than himself. He hears his own voice out of the mouths of his children and he hates it - but in trying to dissuade them, he stutters, because he still doesn’t think it’s wrong. He starts to tell Pomme “you shouldn’t do it unless-” and then cuts himself off because he doesn’t want Pomme to sacrifice herself at all, actually. Buuuuut he still believes self-sacrificial behavior is okay and so he can’t actually say “never sacrifice yourself.”

So instead he has to say “it shouldn’t be the first option” and Pomme replies with “only if I have no choice” which he clearly doesn’t like either but what can he say? ‘No, that’s wrong too’?

No. He can’t say that. Because if he’s teaching his kids that sacrificing themselves is never worth it and will hurt the people around them, then what does that mean for him?

So he just accepts it and settles for “Oh but I’ll make sure you never have to make that choice” which is obviously NOT the correct response to your child telling you they’re willing to die for any reason… but he can’t quite make himself say anything else, or he risks having to seriously re-evaluate the value of his own life. The flippant way in which he treats his health and safety in comparison to others has influenced his kids negatively, whether he likes it or not.

#and hes one of #if not the best #parent(s) on the island #but he has his flaws #his own trauma that unconsciously leaks out and unintentionally influences his kids #it’s just fascinating #qsmp #qsmp liveblog #qsmp badboyhalo #q!bbh character analysis #sorry I got silly with it #oops #haven’t done one of these in a while

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fatuismooches · 2 years

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hi omg, I hope you don't mind me sending requests <3

I live for your writing sm, all of your fluffs gave me diabetes but healthier. I am a sucker for all of them, so thank you for putting your time and effort in your written works <3

I was thinking of headcanons with gn!reader and the fatui members but the reader is fragile, who can get easily sick or physically weak because of the unhealthy conditions during their childhood. I would love to think about those "meanies" (cough dottore or scara) would go insta worry mode if something bad happens to you because of your condition. Fluff or angst, I'm in love with both, I hope you don't mind about the request ^^ (you can decide platonic or romantic <3)

♡ 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐞/𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 ♡

synopsis: The Harbingers are made of steel, unflinching in any possible situation. That is until they start worrying over your frail figure.

includes: all harbingers (platonic pulcinella) w/ gn! reader

notes: I really loved this request, it made me really inspired! (Probably because they'd be extra soft in this scenario and I love that...) I hope you like this nonnie!

Pierro:

He doesn’t get to see you very often with his work and whatnot. But rest assured that you are in good hands, and that even if Pierro only has a spare twenty minutes of break, he’s coming to your room or wherever you are to check up on you. He doesn’t want you to be restrained. He wants you to go and experience Snezhnaya instead of being cooped up alone all the time (with the proper guards and company of course.) He is a very stoic but kind gentleman. You’d hide in his coat while walking together and no one would know until you pop out of it and scare the recruits. He holds the doors open, pulls up the blankets to the very top. When you’re tired due to your sickness he likes to use ancient Khaenri’ahn magic to make you smile.

If you died, Pierro would feel grief that he has not felt since the destruction of his homeland. He has already lost so much that his heart had become numb a long time ago, but your death made it come flooding back. He would have some kind of small figure similar to a chess piece made of you, and he’d keep it on him. In the battle for his heart, you were always the winner. What hurt the most was that he couldn’t even be with you in your final moments, to at least confirm how much he loved you despite everything. But he promises you, he will see you again in the “Old World” after fulfilling the Tsaritsa’s dream.

Capitano:

He is really worried for you. It was such a sharp contrast - big, tall, in tip-top shape, hulking Capitano while little old you struggled to walk straight sometimes. If you sneeze or even cough once, he’s literally all over you asking you if you’re okay. He tries to do a lot of things for you by himself. He stabs the meat on your plate so hard it breaks. He accidentally spends an hour deciding what you should wear, because he didn’t realize you had this many clothes, so he needed to choose something that’d look the best on you, despite not really having any fashion sense. But at least he is very diligent with your medicine times. He literally hovers over you, unintentionally being menacing, while you drink it. It’s very cute but the first time he did it, you spat out the medicine in surprise because you opened your eyes and he was just standing there with no warning. (Don’t ask him to pour it though. Once you asked him to pour a little into the bottle’s cover. His hands were too big and it spilled on the bedsheets.) If you collapse on him, he would be internally panicking so hard. Poor guy thought he hurt you somehow. The kind of guy who paces back and forth and causes everyone around him ten times more anxiety with how he’s acting. Also, lots of rides where you hook your legs over his shoulders and your hands are on his head (I don’t know what they’re called.)

If you died, Capitano would feel like a monster. Yes, he didn’t kill you, but it still felt like your blood was on his hands. Or did he kill you? He brought ruin and destruction to everyone, did he curse you too? How did he even know you were happy with him? Did you regret it? Would you have been happier spending your days with someone else? Horrific questions dug deeper and deeper stabs into his sturdy body, weighing him down day by day. He would give up anything just to have you back in his arms, for you to reassure and caress him, that he wasn’t a demon. But it seemed like the monster part of him was taking over anyway.

Columbina:

The kind of lover who has a list of songs that remind her of you and also buys you the record so you could listen to it. Columbina thinks music can soothe and heal the soul. So everyone can frequently hear tunes coming from your room. She also has a very calming voice in general, so when you are in pain, she just talks to you. She’d gently croon you to sleep or get you to spill all of your fears about the future, and thus comfort you. Since she sings, I’m declaring that she’s pretty poetic and would write poems for you. They always include bravery, strength, and overcoming illness with love, complete with heart doodles around it.

If you died, she would create multiple songs in honor of you. At your funeral, they couldn’t go on with the proceedings for a long time because she sang for hours, thinking of you. Often, she would go to your coffin, encased in ice, and just lie on it, singing. I think she would take a piece of your clothing and attach it to her outfit or something. I just have a feeling that she has lost before, but she likes to hold that article of clothing and feel as though you are still with her. She would become lost in her thoughts a lot more than before. If you had a favorite song, Columbina could often be found humming it to herself alone.

Dottore:

He’s a doctor. A very unethical one, but Dottore’s still extremely intelligent. He knows what you can and can’t do, your possibilities and your limits, your good days and your bad days. He doesn’t trust anyone else to monitor your progress and health. When it’s time for your walks, Dottore personally comes with you, which baffles the other Fatui who knows that virtually nothing can come between him and his research. He tells you about how his medicine for you is coming along, and while you can’t really understand any of it, you like clinging to his arm for support. When it’s time for your medicine, he administers it himself despite your whining that it’s yucky. (For you though, he would find a way to make it a flavor to your liking.)

But even for him, illness can sometimes be unpredictable, despite his precise calculations. Which is why whenever your condition randomly takes a turn for the worse, his mood completely changes and he’s already running a bunch of tests and taking your pressure and all of the like, trying to figure out what triggered your illness. Everyone knows not to even look at him during these times. Doesn’t show it but even though he isn’t scared of anything, these little stunts are not good for him. Has notebooks dedicated to your condition and daily status updates. Nothing goes unnoticed by him. Oh, but he’ll have his clones piggyback you around when you’re too tired to walk <3.

If you died, Dottore wouldn’t show it, but he would never forgive himself. He has the power to create artificial Gods, clone himself, and so much more, but he couldn’t save you? Honestly, he would probably preserve your body through cryosleep, unable to accept your death and his failure. He keeps you in a room that no one else has access to, and just… stares at your naked body in the tube, ruminating about how much he wanted you back. Dottore’s efforts to research and master resurrection triple, and he won’t stop until he could hear your voice again.

Pulcinella:

When you’re at your lowest because of your illness, Pulcinella always comes in and likes to tell you some roundabout story that always has a life message at the end. He’s serious with you but also likes when you have fun. Reads you stories in different voices but it’s not very good when he sounds like a grandpa in all of them. He likes to set you up with different Harbingers. They’re also like family to him so he would want them to spend time with you. It would help your mental health too, he thinks. While some are fine with it, others are less interested, let's just say Papanella has his ways.

If you died, it really felt like he lost his own child. Pulcinella loved when you came to him asking for stories. When you sometimes left the country but came back with exciting stories. He liked to joke that if an old man like him could make it for this long, you’d have to as well. He really wanted you to go and experience the world and what it had to offer, just like he did. Planning your funeral was not something he was looking forward to.

Scaramouche:

Sometimes, he can’t help but think to himself, how much of a grip a weak, frail human like you has on him. A strong breeze could probably knock you off your feet, meanwhile, he has God-like powers. Yet he feels like a fool in your presence. He complains about how needy you are but in an instant, he is ordering someone to bring you a glass of water or extra blankets. Grumbles about how fragile you are but he holds you so gently, you wonder if it’s still Scaramouche. When you’re around, he tends to keep his voice down and not yell at others, since he doesn’t want to accidentally make you feel worse. Scaramouche is still his snarky self, but it’s noticeable how much he observes you, matching his pace to yours even if you’re walking slowly as hell, stopping with you to look at the scenery.

Despite all his whining, not gonna lie, if you collapse on him, he will probably freak out. If he had a heart, it would be thump-thump-thumping, but in its place is just an ache and unsettling feeling. Instantly catches you but his mind goes to the worse, knowing how fleeting your life was. Would move faster than the speed of lightning to get you help, and would not leave for side for anything. Waking up to Scaramouche’s hand intertwined with you and his head facing down into the sheets was not something you expected. In fact, he acts more vulnerable than you, ordering you (which, in reality, is more like a plea) to get better soon.

If you died, any remnants of love and kindness would just… extinguish. Anything in sight is being thrown, crushed, electrocuted. If the sickness was caused by the Tatarigami plaguing Inazuma, he would be especially furious. He would curse everything, everyone. The God, his creator, who abandoned him and let you get this sick. The doctors who were too useless to do anything. But he would curse himself the most, for being so weak, and not being able to do anything for the one person who actually gave a damn about him, now fated to wander Teyvat by himself for eternity. (But… reincarnation AU, anyone?)

Arlecchino:

Arlecchino is a silent yet watchful and hands-on partner. She observes you closely to see if your condition is acting up, or if you’re starting to feel ill. She is the kind of person who wouldn’t allow anything bad to happen since she picks up on your cues. Often times Arlecchino would scold the orphans for bothering you so much but you’d always reassure her that you didn’t mind. Whenever you try to lie about how well you’re feeling, she always narrows her eyes at you and makes you lie back down. Nothing can get past her. I also think she has a great soup recipe due to her experience with children, so you’ll definitely be fed some good food.

If you died, it would seem that there was no change in Arlecchino to the Fatui recruits. Same stone cold face and dead eyes. Same harsh voice that spat out orders. And they would be right, outwardly at least. Inwardly, however, was a completely different story. When a wound is healing, it hurts the most when it’s targeted. If her heart wasn’t hurt before, now it felt like it was completely broken, just when you were starting to piece it back together. When she looks at the children playing, she envisions you running after them too, but the only thing there is the shadows of the kids. When she’s walking through the halls, she anticipates you trying to creep up on her unknowingly and give her a back hug, but now all she hears is her own intense footsteps. When she’s doing paperwork, she expects to see you trying to sneak sugar into her coffee… but you won’t ever be here to do those simple things again.

La Signora:

La Signora treats you like glass. She is especially overprotective of you because she greatly fears losing you. You have the best maids and servants tending to your every need. She’d rather you not exert more energy than you have to. When she’s not around, she sends her little flame moths with sweet messages to you, in hopes of making you smile. She is scared about you going out by yourself since you could get sick so easily. So whenever you need a breath of fresh air, she makes sure to bundle you up in the finest coats. Also has her moths flutter around you for heat. Signora is very tall, so I think she would like to sit you on her lap and do simple things with her. I think she secretly craves a domestic life with her lover after she was robbed of it so long ago. She’d want to play with your hair, press you into her soft chest, make origami butterflies together.

If you died, the ice that previously surrounded her heart would swallow her up again. No more teasing you, hooking her finger under your chin, and kissing you. No more mock fashion shows where she helped to dress you in the most gorgeous clothes and the two of you would pose for pictures for the Kamera. It seemed as though the Gods would tear anyone she loved away from her without hesitation. She suffered the loss of her love once, but for it to happen twice? The pain was unbearable but Rosalyne sealed her feelings up once again. Coldness and ruthlessness returned to mask her true feelings, for if she didn’t, she feared she might not be able to handle it.

Pantalone:

Pantalone wants you to see and do anything you want. You want to go to Liyue to attend the Lantern Rite? He’s clearing his schedule to come with you. You want some obscure item? He’s searching all the markets and buying it, no matter the cost. You picked up some hobby to pass the time? He’s indulging you with the most expensive and efficient equipment to help you with it. He wants you to have the most stress-free, easy, and happy life, so you can just focus on recovering and getting better. Every day, you’ll be visited by a new doctor, repeating the same old questions about how you feel, but Pantalone reassures you that they’re working on something for your health. He’s thankful that his position in the Fatui allows him to stay in Snezhnaya most of the time because he worries about you every minute of the day. The kind of guy who would have a status report on your health sent to his office every hour.

If you died, behind closed doors, his smile would immediately drop, now feeling like it was a heavy burden just to quirk his lips. He had access to the best doctors, medicines, and even bought ancient remedies long forgotten. Yet it was all fruitless. The Mora that he once loved to feel slip through his fingers sickened him. What was all the money he had worth? It couldn’t buy your life back.

Sandrone:

If you want her to, she could probably hook you up with some robotic/prosthetic limbs. But she’ll never want to make you a full robot. You’re not one of her experiments, you’re her lovely lover. At first, she was okay with you going on walks. Well, it wasn’t really a walk because a Ruin Guard just carried you in its hand. But she never did that again when the robot returned with you collapsed and unconscious. Needless to say, the project Sandrone was working on is immediately dropped and now she’s taking extra precautions. I feel as though she would hook up a camera to her caretaker robots so she can be updated on your conditions at all times. When you’re sick, Sandrone likes to make cute robot animals, (which is something she never dreamed of wasting time on before she met you) to bring you little things. Maybe photos of some scenery she took might brighten your day. Or little short but sweet notes. The one that always makes you laugh is when it brings you a clipboard to fill out your daily assessment.

If you died, it would feel like she herself turned into a robot. Wake up, experiment in her lab for an ungodly amount of hours, forget to eat and sleep. Rinse and repeat. Her life was constant now that you, the variable, were gone. Sandrone had a bed for you in her lab so you could watch her while she tinkered with some mechanical parts. It was mostly you talking while she fiddled but your voice bouncing off the walls was pleasant. But now it was silent, only the squeaking of wrenches and screwdrivers remained. She felt emptier than any puppet.

Childe:

He’s the kind of person who excitedly grips your hand and tells you about all the fun and lively activities you two will do together when your health improves. He wakes you up every morning, sunlight pouring into the room and the smell of breakfast cooking (and him in an apron.) Loves to serve you breakfast in bed, spoon-feeding you while the two of you plan what the day will be like. You want to just stay in and relax? Great, he’s got some of Teucer’s favorite story books to read together. You want to go for a stroll? He’s already got the route marked and the picnic basket ready. Childe would manage to carry you and like ten other bags at the same time just to impress you. Also, he is your personal hype man. Even when you’re terribly sick, he’s there to motivate you and sing your praises about how strong you are.

If you died, he would feel lost. The abyss snatched a piece of his heart away already, but he felt even more hollow now. You were the only thing that made Childe forget about being a weapon for the Tsaritsa for a while. When he was away on missions, he enjoyed reading your letters about how you were supposedly getting better. In the middle of a battlefield he would flip through photos of you and his heart would swell in anticipation for the future. But as Teucer and his siblings wail and cling to his legs, and it takes all of Ajax’s strength to not break down in front of them too. When he’s alone though, he silently sobs into your old clothes and bed sheets.

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inkpot909 · 11 months

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Jealousy Headcanons: Duwang Gang

↳ Characters included are Josuke Higashikata, Okuyasu Nijimura, Koichi Hirose, and Rohan Kishibe. Gender neutral Reader with they/them pronouns. Hinted to take place after the death of Yoshikage Kira.

A/n: What a beautiful duwang! Real talk, I’ve been wanting to write a headcanon list for this group for a long time, now. Bless these boys, none of them (except for Koichi) know what they’re doing. I really hope y’all enjoy. <3

Warning(s): Canon-typical violence and swearing.

Josuke Higashikata

-> The Silent

The immediate feeling that washes over Josuke after realizing he’s become jealous is guilt.

If he has the luxury of being alone, he’ll pace around his bedroom while entertaining a lengthy argument with himself. It takes everything in him not to raise a hand up to his mouth and press a nail or two between clenched teeth. There’s a game of tug of war occurring inside his head and he’s nothing if not a slave to fully investing himself in the conflict.

If he isn’t alone, and especially if he’s with you, there is seemingly no dent made in his chill persona. Not a single person around him would be able to tell the internal conflict running through his mind. Not even you.

His usually relaxed thoughts are disrupted with an ocean of insecurity. “What if” questions plaguing him and internally souring his mood.

It’s a foreign feeling for him to experience. Especially considering you tend to bring out a very proud side of his personality. Ever since he started going out with you, everyday life has only gotten brighter.

And although he’d never be caught mentioning it out loud, there’s a part of him that’s mindful of the fact that usually he’s the one others grow jealous of.

He’s running in mental circles, a back and forth. Agonizing over just the idea of being jealous between taking the brunt of his emotions all at once.

All while he says absolutely nothing on the matter.

He may end up distancing himself for a day or two depending on just how lost in his own head he gets. He doesn’t seek out your company, and that’ll be the only telltale sign of how he’s truly feeling.

Even then, whenever you do see him, nothing appears to be wrong. He’ll smile at you all the same. His tone is cheerful as ever, and there’s no falter present in his laugh.

Because he can’t help but be ashamed for feeling this way, he’ll do anything in his power to make sure you don’t notice. He’ll continue to play the part of your never bothered, always cheery boyfriend.

He will only bring up his dilemma to Koichi.

Being involved in a relationship himself, Josuke figures he would best understand his point of view. He does his best to hear him out (he did go to him, after all), but Koichi telling him that it’s unhealthy to internalize how he’s feeling isn’t going to get Josuke to budge.

Josuke knows you’re loyal. He does trust you... so how could he possibly compromise that trust by mentioning something as silly as jealousy? Being open and honest is usually his go to. He tells you everything. But this...? There’s a little voice in his head telling him not to. And not even sound advice from a close friend can get him to stop listening.

If you’re observant enough to catch onto him avoiding you while simultaneously greeting you as if nothing’s wrong, bringing it up bluntly will finally force him to open his damn mouth.

He’s nervous; more nervous than he’s ever been around you in the past. It doesn’t take long before the word vomit starts pooling from his mouth, littered between a plethora of apologies. His eyes never meet yours until he’s done talking, hands continuously picking and pulling at one another.

Believe it or not, talking it through with you actually helps! Who knew? Certainly not Josuke.

After that first incident, dealing with his jealousy becomes a lot more manageable. Although it doesn’t happen often, it still does happen.

And he’s still not inclined to make a scene if he can help it.

Josuke’s opinion of guys who freak out on their partner or anyone who they feel threated by- even by the loosest stretch of the imagination -is very low. He will certainly talk to you about it, but in private and merely to express his emotions rather than to criticize you in any way.

The only real exception to this, is if someone’s actively hitting on you and repeatedly not taking the hint. How he approaches the situation largely depends on you.

If you’re not afraid of confrontation, he’s going to be at your side with a smug expression on his face the entire time. Your ability to stand up for yourself can make him melt on the spot. He lets you go at it, watching you with a smile brimming with puppy love. He just cannot help but fawn over how cool you are.

Once you’ve made your point, he’ll happily back you up lightheartedly. Even to the point of mocking the person who dared to ignore every “no” you threw their way. People like that deserve to get knocked down a peg, and Josuke’s eager to help.

If you’re more meek in approaching these situations, and tend to shoot Josuke glances pleading for his aid, he’s happy to help. It feeds into his ego a bit, honestly.

He’ll make a point to wrap an arm around you, throwing his best intimidating side-eye to the person daring to make you feel uncomfortable. Hell, he’ll even puff out his chest a little too.

Once again, he’s not above insulting them. His words are vicious and more than a little rude. He is a delinquent, after all.

Josuke isn’t a really fan of getting violent in these situations, though. The only reason he would get to that point is if the other person grows violent first and he needs to defend himself.

If they take it that far, they’re asking for it in his book. He doesn’t feel any need to use Crazy Diamond against something so trivial, more than a little confident in his own strength.

That said, if the flirtatious bastard is enough to make you really upset, he will use his stand to rearrange their appearance in an attempt to make you laugh. Yeah, it’s a bit twisted, but his youthful mischievousness is likely to earn him a smile from you.

That said, if someone flirts with you and tries to brush him off by dissing his hair- all cards are off the table. Openly flirting with you in front of him and dissing his hair? That person must have a death wish.

You may want to look away.

Okuyasu Nijimura

-> The Emotional

Unlike his best friend, Okuyasu wears his heart on his sleeve at all times.

Expressing emotions, even negative or embarassing ones, is not something he shies away from. No, not even in public.

When he first confessed his feelings to you, he was certainly more than a little shy. But when you gladly reciprocated, you’re positive the entirety of Morioh shook with his joyous response.

It’s because of this that Okuyasu experiencing jealousy is quite the roller-coaster of emotion. If he’s jealous, everyone and their mother will likely know.

His immediate response is confusion.

Not over how he’s feeling per se, but instead over what to do about it. Painfully aware of his own intellegence, he’ll agonize over how he should respond. Jealousy is rather complicated in his opinion, and his biggest concern is accidentally pushing you away via his reaction.

He is decisive, though, so it’s not something he’s going to mull it over for very long.

And if you’re right beside him, the likelihood of you diffusing his jealousy right in that very moment is quite high. So, although it’s not uncommon for him to be jealous, he’s quick to let it go.

In most cases, that’s where the story ends.

Sometimes, though, if the feeling is strong enough or if you’re not able to talk with him, it’ll go a bit further.

In those instances, the emotion that follows his confusion is anger. More accurately, it’s defensiveness masked with a display of frustration.

It’s written all over his face, eyebrows furrowing and eyes turning sharp. The delivery of his words are rather harsh and unfiltered (well, more than usual).

This anger won’t ever be directed at you, though. Okuyasu cares about you far too much.

If he can’t direct it at a specific individual that’s (according to him) the source of his jealousy, he’ll instead grow angry with himself. Mainly because his jealousy stems from an insecure belief that he’s not good enough for you.

If he gets this upset, it’s best to leave him to let out his frustrations before going to speak with him on the matter. Hell, Josuke is a better support for Okuyasu when he’s dealing with the bulk of his emotions.

Not much time is needed; no more than a day. And because he respects you greatly, if you give him that tiny- yet definitely needed -space, he’ll gladly hear you out with a fresher mindset.

Okuyasu is almost always going to be soothed by your affirmations.

Sweet words about how you’re with him because you want to be, and that nothing so small could form a wedge between the two of you, is very reassuring for him.

Jealousy is going to be more of a prevalent hurtle for the both of you to work on at the beginning of the relationship. He was still getting used to the idea that you really do like him as more than just a friend. It’s sweet, sure, but the insecurity is something the two of you work on together.

As time passes, and he digests the fact that you’re not going to leave him for the first person that flirtatiously glances your way, he cools off a lot. In fact, he starts having a hard time taking the people who hit on you seriously.

Namely, he’s going to laugh at any poor bastard trying to make a move on you. Because “Ha! Get a move on, loser! Can’t you see their taken?”

His mocking may not be as well-thought out as Josuke’s, but they can cut just as deep. And his delivery is almost always sure to bring a smile to your face. Okuyasu is always proud when he’s the cause of your glee.

That said, getting defensive is still a knee-jerk reaction at times. It only applies if someone doesn’t want to take “no” as an answer.

Doesn’t matter how capable you are in defending yourself, if someone pushes it, he’s quickly going to follow it up with threats. Partially out of affectionate protectiveness, and also in part because he likes to think of himself as your knight in shining armor.

He tries to be as suave as he can while threatening a stranger with a fist to the face. One second he’s throwing insults, the next he’s giving you a smile along with a cheeky wink.

As far as he’s concerned, someone messing with his boyfriend/girlfriend better be prepared for a pair of knuckles meeting harshly with their jaw.

Okuyasu’s like an angry dog barking loudly at anyone getting too close. Least you know no one will ever dare to mess with you for very long.

Koichi Hirose

-> The Logical

Out of everyone in the Duwang gang, Koichi is the least susceptible to jealousy. Actually, scratch that. He’s the least susceptible to jealousy in all of Morioh.

Especially after developing Echoes act 3, his thought process just doesn’t leave a lot of room for doubts in both you and himself.

If someone’s attempting to flirt with you, he’s more likely to grow annoyed rather than jealous.

He’ll throw them an unamused glance, eyebrow raised as if daring them to continue further. He’ll turn back to you, mentioning loudly enough for them to hear how obnoxious he finds their behavior to be. Returning the favor with a smile almost always does the trick, often prompting them to give up.

If they don’t, and press further, Koichi is prone to suggesting that the two of you go somewhere else. He never returns any animosity thrown towards him, not letting it get to him much. Yeah, they may be hurling low-hanging insults towards him, but he’s the one with you on his arm.

His casualness in those situations is so consistent to the point where Josuke and Okuyasu each comment on how they don’t understand it.

When a situation arises where they know they’d be jealous, the two just cannot wrap their head around how calm he is. Koichi merely laughs them off, almost finding their confusion to be amusing.

Koichi’s grown a lot, and he just can’t find it within himself to give into insecurities he considers unnecessary. All that, in his mind, should really be left in the past.

Adding to his confidence, is you yourself.

Koichi adores you, and would honestly trust you with his life. So why would he ever grow jealous of an old friend? What on earth could some random person at a party provide you in a short, two minute conversation that would warrant any defensiveness? Why would he feel threatened by a coworker? It’s not like he can tell you to avoid them.

In fact, he’s very aware of the fact that he can't tell you what to do in general. Or rather, he simply won’t. It’s not in his nature to be controlling or hover over you like that.

Not because you’ve brought it up or it's ever been an issue in the past. It’s simply because... that’s not a real relationship in his eyes. He’s not bossy or pushy- you started dating him because that was your decision at the end of the day. And that alone is enough proof to him that being jealous really isn’t worth it.

Now, if by some miracle he does grow jealous, it’s not going to last very long. Again, Koichi is just too levelheaded.

He is going to grow downcast, saddened by his own perspective of the situation. This is because he’ll only get to the point of jealousy if he believes you’ve returned someone’s advances- whether it was by word of mouth or something he saw with his own two eyes.

And because you care for him as earnestly as he does for you, his jealousy likely occurs due to an honest misunderstanding.

Koichi will approach you on the matter himself, and will do so calmly. Even if he saw something, he doesn’t want to become more upset before he hears what you have to say. After all, you’ve never disappointed him before.

Because of his strong trust in you, after he details his perspective on the matter, he asks that you explain your side of the situation to him.

Koichi’s demeanor is very controlled and polite, hiding a certain degree of genuine worry. He listens with baited breath, internally praying that he simply misread what happened.

And to his relief, that’s all it ever ends up being.

Just like that, the both of you are quickly back to normal. Worries evaporate from within his mind, and he’s back to his usual sweet self.

Genuinely the best boyfriend here, no contest.

Rohan Kishibe

-> The Denier

Oh, boy.

First thing’s first, it should be noted that The Great Rohan Kishibe does not grow jealous. It’s not even a question, and honestly, expecting him to explain such a thing is an insult. Men and women alike fawn over him; anyone would be lucky to have him. You’re lucky to have him.

And to his credit, Rohan really doesn’t grow jealous very often.

His confidence in himself may cross the line into narcissism, but it doesn’t lead him to give into jealousy very often.

Like Koichi, he knows that if you’re with him, it’s because you truly care. Even more so, considering Rohan knows (if only slightly) that he’s not the easiest person to be around.

Nope! He certainly doesn’t become jealous very often… not never, like he’s worked so hard to have you believe.

For Rohan to become jealous requires specific circumstances. Some random person approaching you at a party or bar isn’t going to pose much of a threat to his ego.

On the contrary, it feeds into his ego.

You’re a beautiful individual; it’s no question as to why others would try and approach you. But, of course, you always turn them away seeing as you’re already his.

In those instances, he’s as dismissive as Koichi, coupled with a tongue as sharp as Josuke’s. Rolling his eyes, wrapping an arm around you, straight up ignoring the person trying to talk to you, kissing you out of the blue- he’s got every weapon in his arsenal equipped to ensure you’re left alone.

If it gets to the point where you’re growing visibly nervous or uncomfortable, Rohan’s words are the nastiest you’ve ever seen. But the display isn’t necessarily out of jealousy, as it is out of shock and frustration that they’d persist. He’s not going to let anyone speak to you in such a way.

But when it pertains to an old friend, the one you were talking about meeting up with for a week straight... now that’s what makes his chest tighten.

Rohan’s going to be in a bad mood because of it, but it’s not too distinct from his usual behavior. No, he’s just a little more quiet than normal. And by the time you cheerfully tell him about seeing this friend of yours, he thinks he may go nuts.

Rohan’s immediate response is to completely shut himself out from everyone, while simultaneously denying any thought he has over being jealous in the first place.

The time he spends locked inside his office is insanely alarming.

At first, you question whether or not you should even say anything about it. Yes, you’re obviously concerned for his health, but Rohan falls into his exaggerated version of workaholic-mode from time to time. And you know him well enough to understand he requires a very careful approach to be pulled out of it.

No, what really warns you that something’s wrong, is that even Koichi asks you if Rohan is doing okay.

His concern takes you aback, and only makes your heart sink further when Josuke (of all people) speaks up about it as well. He’s a lot more reserved about showing any worry, but it’s enough to let you know that something is fundamentally off.

Prodding Rohan for an explanation is going to take a good while.

He’s so unused to feeling jealousy in any capacity that he outright refuses to even admit it to himself.

No, he just needs to work and not interact with anyone. Why? Because he has to; don’t question him. There’s so much he needs to do. You’re far too busy with your old friend in town to pay him any mind anyway.

And that’s exactly the sentiment you finally manage to pull from him.

He spits it out it with crossed arms, not once meeting your gaze. But it’s a mistake (in his mind), because it gets the cogs turning in your mind.

You end up realizing Rohan’s jealous before he does.

Affirmations that you love him is a must, and don’t even bring up the fact that he grew jealous- it would only continue to stir the pot. You know Rohan well, confident in how you choose your words when talking to him about it.

He refuses to give you any indication that he's listening, of course, but one brief glance your way cracks his hardened outer shell.

The look on your face... it initiates this weird sinking feeling deep inside his gut. Just thinking of could halt his movements.

Yes, realistically, he could just use his stand to check whether or not his concern is warranted.

But, for one thing, he’s already promised you he wouldn't do that to you. Setting boundaries is extremely important to Rohan, so he respects the ones you set in return. So much so that the thought of using Heaven’s Door on you doesn’t cross his mind once.

And that look on your face, soft and melancholy upon the realization that he’s been doubting you... he honestly doesn’t need to use his stand to know he's severely misread your relationship with your old friend.

His own ability to recognize how poorly he misunderstood the situation is something he figures he’ll have to unpack at a later time. In that moment, he was just relieved. He told you, rather stubbornly, that he supposes he was wrong. In own his weird, twisted way, that was how he apologized.

In short, being with you is a humbling experience for a person like Rohan and this instance of becoming jealous is certainly a part of that.

Weirdly enough, to his internal surprise, it’s ultimately a pleasurable development. Not like he’d ever tell you, though.

With the passage of time, he even lets you tease him over it. The two of you playfully go back and forth, bringing up times where you both got so jealous. It’s all in good fun, his confidence in your feelings for him stronger than ever.

In reality, him having a bit of humor about it is a clear sign that he’s growing into the relationship more and more. And him being able to be more transparent around you makes it easier for him to talk to you in the future if he gets that jealous again.

There’s still room for growth, but such things are almost always a gradual process for someone like Rohan.

That said, only you’re allowed to make any sort of teasing remarks about the whole ordeal. Anyone else isn’t worthy of doing so.

#johnny’s work #jjba #jojo’s bizarre adventure #josuke higashikata x reader #okuyasu nijimura x reader #koichi hirose x reader #rohan kishibe x reader #diamond is unbreakable #diu #manga #anime #headcanons #jealousy #gender neutral reader #fluff #sfw #part 4 jojo #writing #fanfiction

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sadly-in-active · 4 months

Note

maybe yandere beast cookies? or just Shadow Milk if you cant do them all

Bet 😘

Yandere Beast Cookies x Reader hcs

Summary: My, my, my. The former five Cookies of Virtue, all fallen from grace are…attracted to you? Yes, and very attached. Almost to a point where it could just be considered unhealthy and unhinged. Well, good luck my dearest reader! Try to survive in this world of chaos and doom! ❤️

TW: The usual yandere stuff, stalking, murder, manipulation, gaslighting, threatening, and some other SUPER cool stuff :D

(Sorry if ooc 😭)

Eternal Sugar Cookie

Quite the clingy gal, that’s for sure. She knew you loved her from the start…but she loved you before you even knew her. She had her eyes on you this entire time, watching your every move with a giddy smile. It almost makes her giggle when she remembers the situation.

Eternal Sugar enjoys holding you close and wrapping her wings around you. She wants you to feel content and safe, but she also wants you to get attached to her as well. She knows that if she was going to try something more extreme, it would have to be when you’re becoming more vulnerable and soft towards her. Then she’d strike.

“Oh, sweetie…that unfortunate Cookie spoke to you too long. They looked like they were flirting with you, and I just couldn’t have that! I love you dearly, and I’m never letting my darling go again~!”

All in all, you’re probably too busy looking at how beautiful she was, how her sweet eyes were filled with care for you…and…then…

Were you getting sleepy just now?

Burning Spice Cookie

He’s not the type to really stalk you, but he’d demand to know where his little peppercorn is at all times, who you’re with and why you’re even there in the first place and not next to him. (yes he nicknamed you that and no I’m not talking about the canon Peppercorn Cookie don’t come at me)

Burning Spice probably gets really aggressive when you try to go somewhere without his permission, even trying to burn you once or twice to make you stay with him while he treats your wounds, love-bombing you afterwards and holding you close to his warm chest while he bear-hugs you. This tactic is usually done on your legs and especially your knees, giving you second degree burns and ending up with you being unable to walk for about a week or so.

“C’mon, toots! It’s just a few burns, no need to cry when you’re around me! This only happened because you aren’t being a good partner… Hey, look, maybe we could cuddle after if that’s what you want?”

How could you stay mad at a guy who looked so sure of himself? So warm and confident…

But the temperature was increasing more, you just didn’t realize until it was a bit too late.

Silent Salt Cookie

They’ve always been, well, silent. Even when around their peers, they’re known as the quiet one. Their situation with you is probably a lot like Eternal Sugar’s, watching you since the very beginning. They’re definitely light on their feet, a sound rarely coming out of their mouth as they watch you go about your day.

Watching you was something that made them feel a bit of hope in the quiet silence they’ve had during their time as a Beast.

They’ve never tried to hurt you, but they’ve hurt many cookies that have interacted with you. Haven’t you noticed all the missing posters? Well, Silent Salt is sure happy that you didn’t see the papers or notice anything off about the world. After all, how could you when you’re in their home, wandering the salt flats from time to time?

“…it’s not to hurt you.”

They had whispered in your ear while keeping you close on their lap, the two of you embracing each other and the silence that came with it.

The Beast of Silence had even felt some…guilt, being this attached to you.

They could kill armies and hundreds of innocent civilians…but never raise their sword at you.

Ever.

And it would be best to keep it that way.

Mystic Flour Cookie

So, I don’t really know what to write about her…because she’s basically a nihilist and the literal Beast of Apathy..

But she’d definitely try to guilt trip you into making you care about her and worship her by telling her story, wanting you to feel sympathy for her even if she doesn’t want to care for you. (She does, in a way.)

“Don’t stop the flow of life, dearest. Join me and become flour…”

Anyways, she’s probably going to turn you into flour in the end.

But watching you cough out flour as you collapse next to her was…a strange sight indeed. Not even she knew how to feel.

Shadow Milk Cookie

(Nightmare nightmare nightmare)

He’s certainly a flirt, ever since the two of you met. Shadow Milk has always been thinking of you as his little toy, someone that he could play around with and face little consequences.

Because how could you resist a face like his? With a pout on his lips as he tries to justify harming the ones who’ve wronged you a long time ago, whether it be a childhood bully or even your parents… Heck, he even swears that it was for your sake and not because he’s a sadistic piece of shit.

“But [name]! How could I rest well knowing that my sweet, sweet doll still has enemies all around them? It’s my duty to protect you and keep you safe. Besides, don’t you love me?! I know you’re not chickening out now, sweetheart!”

He’s definitely tried to control you, making you into a mindless puppet without your knowledge. It’s something he only does when he’s feeling particularly pissed off at you because you’re not listening to him.

Well, if you’re not listening to him, he’s not planning to listen to his little doll anytime soon!

And he swears he’ll change. Every promise he makes is another lie from the jester. Those kisses he gives you before he goes off doing who knows what? That’s just to keep you entertained.

It’s his duty to protect you, but it’s his job to keep everyone entertained— especially himself.

#crk headcanons #cookie run kingdom #cookie run x you #crk x reader #crk x you #writers on tumblr #yandere #mystic flour x reader #shadow milk x reader #burning spice cookie x reader #silent salt x reader #silent salt cookie x reader #eternal sugar x reader

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honeybubbledivination · 2 months

Text

Loyalty of your Future Spouse or Significant Other 💛

(Could be your current situation with someone you plan to marry or a POSSIBLE future person.)

Please use your own discretion and discernment. This is for entertainment purposes only. I do not offer medical or legal advice.

[Obvi, major tw for infidelity. Mentions of narcissistic tendencies/personality, gaslighting. Unhealthy relationship themes.]

Pick an image to determine your reading! Options go from 1-3, left to right!

Pile one:

‘loml’ - Taylor Swift

‘Still’ - Noah Kahan

‘Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus’ - Taylor Swift

Obligatory note for each pile that ‘the hidden truth oracle’ cards are basically quotes. These are things that they are saying, have said, or will say. It can also be the progression of their thoughts leading up to their frame of mind from the beginning of the connection to the end or current standing. Take it as you will!

‘Love Oracle Cards’ by Beach Time Soul: Not Today, Soulmates, Girl Talk, Heartbroken, Boat, Healthy Choices, Keys on a Ring, Love Call, Ascending, The Chaser, Mask, Girl With a Snake, The Dragonfly

‘The Hidden Truth v2’ by All Things Intuitive: I can be myself with you. // I am recovering. // I am in a committed relationship. // Will you ever make things right? // I can’t be with you. // You broke my heart. // We don’t share the same values. // I don’t know why this happened. // I don’t know what comes next.

‘The Love Oracle’ by Simplistic Mystic: Ghosted, Unfinished Business, Wedding, Proposal, Fated Meeting, Travel, Date, Magnetic Attraction, Family, Finances, Divine Intervention, Unexpected, Storm Warning, Between The Lines, Crossroads, Break Up

‘The Hidden Truth Oracle’ by All Things Intuitive: I want you. // I love you. // I want to feel that way again. // I hide behind material things. // So many things remind me of you. // We both know I am not the one for you. // I left you before you could leave me. // You and I were too young. // You were the best thing in my life. // We need to let each other go. // I can’t stop thinking about you.

Welcome Pile One! I have a heavier reading for you. If your intuition lead you here and you’re read to see the truth, strap in. It feels like the person you’re asking about is someone you’re already with. You’ve been with them long enough to talk about marriage and kids and seeing the world together. But, they’re a liar. I’ll just be upfront about it, no point in having more than one person in your life beat around the bush with you. They’re emotionally immature and have in fact cheated on you. They will never admit it because of their ego, but that’s why they ghosted you recently. They’ve had a one night stand with someone and it’s reminded them of a time or situation where they weren’t very honest with you in the past about someone you considered family. They’ll lie about it if you confront them, but the guilt is eating them alive. You may be close with their family or they’re close with yours. This could be a union that everyone seems to support because you may have helped this person heal, or at least act like they are. But, while you’re at home holding up the foundation, they’re out doing God knows what with God knows who. You should’ve trusted your intuition from the start, but that’s okay because divine intervention is more than just having something randomly come into your life or leave it. Divine intervention is when anyone or anything is in your life for a reason, season, or lifetime. No matter if you decide to stick by this person and let them continue to treat you poorly or if you break it off, they’re in your life for a reason. A lesson of heartbreak and realizing your worth. Would you let anyone treat your family or friends like this? If the answer is no, you need to look in the mirror and realize you not only disrespect yourself when you accept less than you are worth. You’re disrespecting your family and loved ones. Past, present, and future. Now, this person will expect you to pick up the pieces time and time again while they keep breaking everything. And they’ll blame all of it on you. If not to your face, then behind your back with whoever they’re messing around with. Love is not about push and pull, it just exists. It’s not meant to be fought for within the dynamic. It just exists. It’s simple. I hope you realize this and dump that loser. God bless you, honey bee. Drop that idiot before they ghost you. If they’re gonna talk crap, give them a reason to.

- Bunny 🍯💛

Pile Two:

Bad Guy Billie Eilish

So Long, London - Taylor Swift

Casual - Chappell Roan

‘Love Oracle Cards’ by Beach Time Soul: Love Call, Separation, Palm Tree, The Grim Reaper, Karmic Relationship

‘The Hidden Truth v2’ by All Things Intuitive: I don’t want to let you go. // I hide my feelings. // I still have feelings for you. // I know you don’t feel the same. // I don’t know what comes next. // We don’t share the same values. // You inspire me. // I feel so happy with you. // I saved your texts and messages. // Your intellect arouses me. // I feel the sexual tension. // I’m not financially stable.

‘The Love Oracle’ by Simplistic Mystic: Player, Grass Is Greener, Single, Between The Lines, Healing, Mystery, Regret, Heartbreak

‘The Hidden Truth Oracle’ by All Things Intuitive: You were the best thing in my life. // I can’t stop thinking about you. // I left before you could leave me. // Sometimes I stay awake thinking about you. // I will wait for a sign from you. // I bury myself in work to forget you. // Just being near you is intoxicating. // I remember every detail of that day. // I look for you everywhere. // My life is not as together as it seems. // I want you.

Hey, Pile Two! Now, this pile felt like you’re not actually with this person currently. Maybe you had a fling with them or dated once upon a time and you’ve been thinking about them. Maybe people thought you’d end up together, but you never really did on official terms. You’ve been thinking about them a little bit lately, I wouldn’t say too much. Just here and there. And they’ve been thinking about you, too! But, this person is not your FS or SO. They’re a karmic relationship meant to test you to see if you’ll grow from what feels comfortable to what is really meant for you. What’s meant for you is being left as a surprise for now. This person doesn’t love you like you love them. They have an infatuation with you because you’re so kind and sweet to them. They like everything about you, but I wouldn’t say that they have feelings for you. They feel like you should be theirs, but they don’t want to actually lay claim by dating or marrying you. Not when they could have sex with whoever they want while they’re single. I don’t think they’d cheat on you if you abandoned your healing journey and where to reach out to them, but I think they’d do everything in their power to make you despise them, so they could validate cheating on you. This person is not loyal to you. They’re loyal to their ego and their sex drive. Find yourself and know that being single is a blessing itself. Stay strong, honey bee! Love and light!

- Bunny 💛🍯

Pile Three:

I Miss the Misery - Halestorm

Kiss U Right Now - DUCKWRTH

Missing Limbs - Sleep Token

‘Love Oracle Cards’ by Beach Time Soul: Soulmates, Love, Lightning, Seduction, Abundance, Engagement, Passion, The Dragonfly, Boat

‘The Hidden Truth v2’ by All Things Intuitive: I don’t know what comes next. // I would do it all again. // Your intellect arouses me. //I compare others to you. // I can’t get enough of you.

‘The Love Oracle’ by Simplistic Mystic: Liquid Courage, Truth, New Love, Proposal, Magnetic Attraction, Date, Soulmate, Legal Matters, Intuition, Crossroads, Unfinished Business, Healing, Regret, Heartbreak

‘The Hidden Truth Oracle’ by All Things Intuitive: I love you unconditionally. // I feel you even though we are apart. // I want to tell you how I feel.

Hey, Pile Three! Finally! A light hearted one! The other two piles are in a heavier energy and having to decide to heal or to go back to what’s comfortable. You could be a healed and clean slate version of pile one or two! Good job healing, baby bee! This person I’m seeing for you loves you. But, you need to make sure you’re all healed from those past situations because the person or people from the past will try to come back and sabotage your happiness. So, stick to your guns and stay with the person that makes you feel safe and doesn’t make you nervous or scared. Choose stability, honey bee! This one was definitely shorter, but you’re on the right track! Keeping healing and stay on the right track! Good love and luck!

- Bunny 💛🍯

Bunny’s Note: Thank you for buzzing by, busy bees! This reading was a doozy, but I think it’ll help a lot of you move on and be more realistic about stuff. Just make sure you’re doing what’s best for YOU. No one else matters. You are the center of your own universe. Heal your world before worrying about anyone else. If you’d like to book a private reading about more concerning this reading or anything else, pm me! I don’t do readings about medical or legal stuff!

#honeybubbledivination #spirituality #pac #pick a card #self love #tarot reading #oracle reading #love reading #hbd #tarotblr #tarot blog #loyalty #future spouse #significant other #tarot community #paid readings #bunny #divination

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qstea · 2 years

Note

: hihi!! may I request ink with an s/o that stays up late ( around 1am - 2am ) to chat with their friends ??

can I also be 🌷 anon tyty ♡

✦ - Ink!Sans

| - This gremlin finds out you’re up at this time and just pokes you a million times to let him see what you’re doing instead of sleeping.

| - if you’re in a call with them, Ink will join in and cause chaos. If you’re texting, he’ll just leave you be. By the time an hour passes by, he’s already asleep on your chest, woops.

✦ - Error!Sans

| - A bit confused? ( yeah this again )

| - Doesn’t really know what to do, but they end up trying to urge you to go to sleep. They know that monsters and humans need plenty of rest and they want you to be happy and healthy. If you don’t go to sleep when they ask you to, they’ll just take your device away and won’t give it back to you til morning.

| - They’re a bit of an asshole.

✦ - Dream!Sans

| - Literally go to fucking sleep it’s 2 a.m.

| - He tries to inform you how unbelievably unhealthy it is to stay awake at this time. Very knowledgeable on anything that affects positive feelings and mental health. Will definitely try his hardest to get you to sleep, but he’ll give up if you seem uninterested or show any signs of anger in his efforts.

✦ - Geno!Sans

| - They’re a bit surprised when they catch you up late, they expected you to be asleep a long time ago.

| - They end up laying next to you while you’re chatting with your friends. Geno doesn’t want to bother you because they’re happy if you’re happy, and they’re nervous they’ll upset you if they tell you anything, so they won’t.

| - They’ll just wait for you to fall asleep by yourself.

✦ - Cross!Sans

| - He stays up late watching over you, making sure there’s nothing that might try to hurt you. Cross finds out you’re awake, sitting on your bed and tapping at your screen.

| - He’ll try to drag you to sleep by resting himself on you, in hopes that you’ll just toss your device to the side and cuddle him to sleep.

✦ - Classic!Sans

| - He attempts to get you to sleep by using the same tactic Cross uses, but ultimately ends up falling asleep on you before you even realize what he’s trying to do.

#✦ - teaskaa’s works #✦ - 🌷 anon #undertale x reader #underverse x reader #undertale au x reader #ink sans x reader #error sans x reader #dream sans x reader #geno sans x reader #sans x reader #cross sans x reader #a/n: I added a few others into the mix so it wouldn’t be too short and others would be able to enjoy it #^^ hope that’s ok!

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cheese-water · 10 months

Text

I know it’s been said before, but I don’t care. The best thing that has come out of purgatory so far is the mending of the relationship between Tubbo and BadBoyHalo. Cause I’ll tell you, I would have never expected this a month ago, not even two weeks ago.

What’s even funnier is that the past week has made me realize how similar they are. They both play on the server an unhealthy amount. They both adore the eggs and other npcs (in the same day, Tubbo named and was constantly a headcount of his little army, and Bad was treating two of them like they were his own kids). They love to cause problems for fun and have no problem being “immoral” to get what they want. In every conversation, the two of them instinctively avoid and dance around giving anyone answers effortlessly, like the weasels they are. They’re both renowned loophole exploiters. They’re both gigantic nerds and have way too much game knowledge. Literally, both of them own Minecraft servers lmao.

I think that because they have so much in common, particularly their slipperiness, Tubbo and Bad will be either completely in sync or at each other’s throats. Even back during Ron’s kidnapping, during 1 on 1 conversations with the two of them, Bad told Tubbo that he was “too smart for his own good,” which I personally translated as “so this is how Foolish feels when talking to me.”

They’re dynamic is like two sound waves. When two similar waves of sound in the same space move in opposition to each other (as one goes up and the other goes down, etc.), they will cancel each other out, resulting in no noise at all. It’s called destructive interference and is how I would describe Bad and Tubbo’s rivalry pre-purgatory, so at odds with one another that every conversation eventually turns into a debate. However, when two similar sound waves align, they become in phase, and the created sound doubles.

When Tubbo and Bad work as one, the construction interference created between them amplifies their strengths and allows them to do things that are unthinkable on their own. There’s a reason why the only time they were able to kill Étoiles was together.

#qsmp #qsmp purgatory #tubbo #badboyhalo #team soulfire #not to mention the communities 180 of each other #we’re both so defensive over our own little guy because they’re characters have been so wrongly interpreted by others before #and spite is a hell of a drug lmao #but now that they’re forced to work with each other #and blue was the most hated team for a bit #It’s been nice seeing tubbo blogs liveblog bbh and vice versa #who woulda thunk it lol #I wrote this two hours before the win but #LETSGO BLUE TEAM WOOOOOOOO

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celestialtarot11 · 10 months

Text

More astro notes 🤗🤍

Hey ya’ll! Grab a drink or a snack because this post is juicy 💭☕️ hope ya’ll enjoy!

I’ve noticed Sagittarius and Jupiter placements don’t often follow higher education, and in fact natives with this placement drop out. It’s as if they are meant to expand outward, and not stay shackled to a capitalist society 👏 as they should honestly. These natives work hard from a young age especially, they’re all about getting that bag. As they get older they get efficient with making money. These natives are always seeking to be efficient.

Venus in the first probably grew up around a modest family, a family that praised modesty. Depending on the aspects, the native embraces this or rejects it entirely. Venus in the 1st is here to find themselves ultimately. They are their own soulmate, and realizing this truth will help them to give to their partner/friendships 🤗 such a sweet native. But this native has the tendency to conform and fall into codependent tendencies.

Mars in the 1st…have ya’ll had leg injuries in your life? Someone I knew with this placement has a massive leg injury from work. Be careful! Mars in your chart indicates surgery/injuries. Where it falls in your chart will tell you where you’ll have injuries or surgery, and when it’ll happen.

Leo, pisces & gemini in someones big three makes for a very interesting person. Elusive, yet known. Out there yet hidden. Talking to them one on one creates pressure on this individual, because there is that feeling of wanting to run, but stay open. This native constantly battles hiding and opening up. If ya’ll don’t put down that wine glass and take off that trench coat-😤 this ain’t mission impossible. Anyway, good luck trying to get anything out of this individual 🤗 if they share to you anything, they trust you.

Libra men…please stop comparing yourself to your partners. If you’ve had a history with people looking down at you, it’s understandable why you’d continue this cycle. But if ya’ll want that commitment, that relationship, see your partner in a different light and yourself included. You can’t look at yourself the same way those people never saw you. Your partner does not want to repeat that hurt (that’s if you’re in a mutually healing relationship, not an unhealthy one) Your fears can easily distance you from your partner.

Wherever pluto aspects in the natives chart is where personal information is out in the open. For example someone I know with pluto in the 10th aspecting venus in the 4th, family often tried to separate her relationship, and was the cause of significant problems. Many people knew of the relationship and spread gossip like fire, even after the breakup people still bring him up. And it happens when it��s not even related to her, they’ll find any excuse to bring her ex up in any conversation/argument. Pluto in the 10th can signify having a relationship with the boss or coworker which eventually turns public. These natives need to be careful with where pluto aspects their planets! ✨🌀

Alternatively, Pluto in the 10th is often read as the native having an infamous career, or personal information affecting their career. While that may be true for some, look closely to the aspects and which planet its touching, and which house. Again, Pluto in the 10th touching venus in the 4th, the 4th house ruling family, that’s where a lot of the natives issues were gossiped about. Career place went by fine, only issue was putting herself out there as she liked to keep herself hidden.

Another example of Pluto bringing personal information out to the public: Pluto aspecting the natives sun. Issues with the father were widely known, because the pluto person had the father moving in and our constantly of their apartment. The father had no financial support for himself. Sun in the 3rd house trine Pluto in the 2nd, this persons travel plans were an indicator to others that they were sitting on a pile of cash. I mean, flying to these places? Damn, you must be rich. And the natives job included flying out to different locations. This caught peoples eye, and it turned into jealousy. Eventually, the native with this placement had a massive injury at work (mars 1st house) and it lead to a huge financial scare because of the debt (pluto 2nd house) . Because of the sun trine pluto aspect, everyone did not laugh at him, rather they couldn’t understand how he was still there and doing well despite the injury. Somehow to others, he was still carrying on. People put him on a pedestal shortly after the injury, and he couldn’t return to work because he knew his coworkers would constantly talk to him about the injury, and want to know every detail. In a way, people idolized his bravery and strength. So again, look to your pluto placement, aspects, other planets, houses everything! 😤

Thank ya’ll so much for reading 💗☺️ hope this was informative and cool! Please feel free to reblog, comment and like!

Book a reading with me here 🤍

#devi post #astrology #tarotcommunity #divination #astrology community #tarot #tarot deck #witchcraft #tarot reading #tarot community #astrology observations #astrology notes #astro #astro posts

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inbarfink · 2 years

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Okay, so when it comes to “What Remains of Edith Finch” I’m generally among those who subscribe to the reading that there is nothing supernatural about the ‘family curse’ - that it is nothing more than an unhealthy coping mechanism that became a self-fulfilling prophecy through a tradition of neglect and recklessness also maybe some slew of undiagnosed hereditary mental illnesses. But one aspect of this interpretation that I’m not really on-board with it is the idea that this makes the ending of the game, like, a totally unambiguously ‘bad’ tragic ending.

Well, either way it’s always a pretty sad ending, y’know. Everyone is dead. I mean in the sense that, like, if the ‘curse’ is nothing but the stories of the Finch family making them think they’re cursed - then Edith writing her little book and passing on these stories to her son is just perpetuating the Curse and probably dooming the poor boy. They would’ve both probably been better off if Edith did let those dangerous stories die with her. Right?

Well, that’s not really how I see it. I don’t really think this is a narrative is about how Edie and her outlook on death is, like, 100% totally wrong and dangerous and Dawn Finch was 100% totally in the right about trying to escape the family stories - as much as it is about Edie and Dawn both being flawed women and neither really handled their grief perfectly. Since Edie’s attitude kinda dominated the family and Edith herself kinda used to side with her great-grandma over her mother, the story focuses more on her realizing that, y’know, Dawn’s perspective might have a point. But just cause Dawn might’ve had a point doesn’t mean she was always right either. I think the point is more that Edith has to understand both her great-grandma’s and her mother’s side so she can strike a healthier balance between both of their attitudes.

Like, the thing is that the ‘Curse’ is mostly just generational trauma (and if there is a real supernatural Curse than it is still a metaphor for generational trauma), and the thing with trauma is that wallowing in it and letting it define you like Edie did is really not healthy - but neither is repressing it and trying to run away from it like Dawn tried to do. Edie might’ve been wrong about many things, but she was right about this:

The ‘Curse’ won’t leave Dawn and Edith just cause they left the House, or just cause they stopped listening to Edie’s stories. Because the Curse and their Trauma are the same, so it will follow them in some form wherever they go. The big thing I keep thinking about is Edith’s comment after Sam’s story.

This isn’t about Sam’s death being especially important for figuring out the ‘mystery’ of the Finch Curse, or it being an especially fascinating or beautiful story or whatever. It’s because it was an especially traumatic event for Dawn, that undoubtedly effected her for the rest of her life. But due to her fear of the effects of Edie’s Stories, she never really opened up about it with her daughter in any way. Seeing the pictures of Dawn and Sam’s last trip together, Edith feels she now has a greater understanding of what made her mother tick - and wishes she could’ve known about it when she was still alive.

And that does go farther down the family tree. Sam was the first Finch to show a real dislike to telling the Stories like Edie like. Although admittedly he wasn’t quite the rebel Dawn was:

And pretty much everything about how he acted around his children, especially the real shitty stuff, was informed by the trauma of Calvin’s death.

And, like, obviously Edie’s idea of handling trauma did no favors to him, (She made him share a room with his dead twin for eleven years) but I think also his attempts to almost totally avoid and repress his Issues when he became an adult only made things worse and not better.

Now, you might be wondering how this relates to Edith and her son Christopher. Well, the first thing to remember is that Edith didn’t know for sure she was going to die when she started that journey. She wasn’t just planning on leaving that little book to her son in case she dies - she wanted to learn the stories too, and have a better understanding of the stories she knew already. Because these stories inform the trauma she grew around, and she wanted to understand it better before she became a mother. Dawn knew quite a lot about the danger of growing up in a household that wallows in and romanticizes trauma - and did her best to avoid repeating this mistake with Edith. Edith knew quite a lot about the danger of growing up in a household that repressed and runs away from trauma - and she doesn’t want to repeat it with her child as well.

And as for writing it down for Christopher in case she’s not around to share the stories with him. Well, the first thing to note is that I think that even if Christopher never had Edith’s book - he was already bound by the ‘Curse’ from the start. Like, yeah, he doesn’t have the experience of growing up with a traumatized parent raised by another traumatized parent raised by another traumatized parent - but growing up knowing his biomom died at childbirth can be a pretty traumatizing experience on it’s own. We don’t know much of his family situation outside of that, but the fact that there seem to be no one around to escort the Literal Child as he takes a ferry to go lay flowers at his birth mother’s grave doesn’t really bode well.

So I think, first things first, from that angle, Edith’s journal could be importantly therapeutic to him as well. You know, have some sort of connection to his mother and her side of the family that he’s otherwise can’t really have? Like, this book isn’t just some darn list of dead Finches. There’s a lot in here about Edith herself and her own thoughts and her life and family and that’s maybe connection Christopher would want with her? Something that might make him process his grief for her a bit better? Something to make him feel more connected with that side of his family?

Now, let’s also consider the fact the Finch Curse is at least somewhat public knowledge: the Odin Finch newsreel mentions it, Barbara’s death was very well-publicized at the time - and the ‘Tales of Terror’ comic calls it “another ghastly tale inspired by America's most unfortunate family” - implying that they expected their readership to be at least kinda familiar with the idea of the Finches being ‘cursed’. I think that’s pretty likely that, even without the journal, if Christopher dug even a little bit into who his birth mother was he would’ve found at least a mention of a rumor of a ‘Family Curse’ .

Or, hell, seeing how the Finches (and especially Edie) seem to have been local celebrities around Orcas Island - if Christopher lives anywhere near that area, really all it will take is him saying something like “hey, I’m Christopher Finch!” or “my mother’s name was Edith Finch” and then someone would say “oh yeah, like the famous Orcas Island Finches? That cursed family that keeps dying?” and seeing how he has no living relatives on his mother’s side - he would’ve probably believed it, or at least allowed the possibility to wriggle into his heart - and then… well, the Curse will just live on regardless of Edith.

Note that Christopher is already wearing a cast before he even read the book (and is, again, a child taking a ferry to visit his mother’s grave all alone) - it seems like something of the ol’ Finch recklessness has already made it to him, whatever it’s in his genes somehow or just the rumors of the curse getting to him. But it is not entirely on Edith’s journal.

And like, one of the things I think made the Curse such a problematic mindset is the way it prevented the Finches from ever learning from their mistakes. You know, if every death is a result of a malevolent supernatural force haunting the family - then there’s no need for introspection of how what they could do better in the future. Challenging this mindset was probably one of the best things about Dawn’s mindset. But learning from past mistakes is equally impossible when you convince yourself it’s all the fault of a supernatural curse as it is when you straight-up have no context for what happened before. If nothing else, the stories in this journal can serve as a useful lesson about not clinging to the past, or not letting your grief define you, or how you shouldn’t try and make a perfect 360 degree spin on swingset or how you SHOULDN’T LEAVE A BABY ALONE IN A BATHTUB JESUS CHRIST

Because it’s not like this journal is just, like, a totally uncritical reiteration of Edie Finch’s stories for the next generation or something. I think the game makes it pretty clear that although Edith Sr. and Edith Jr. are meant to mirror each other on some level, their attitudes when it comes to the stories of the family are pretty different.

Edie was characterized as someone who cared more for what makes for a good story over the truth, as someone prone to inventing or exaggerating tales, as someone who reveled in the romanticism of being Doomed, and memorialized the death of her loved ones more than their life. Like, one of the things that really crosses a line for me about the Edie Finch Method of Grief is just how much the circumstances of the death are prioritized over the life the person had before it.

It’s not always so blatant cause the Finches tend to die in ways that poetically tie with their personality and hobbies (Molly loved animals and fantasy and she spent her last moments in a hallucination of transforming into various animals, Sam loved hunting and photography and he died taking a picture while hunting, Walter loved trains and ended up being run over by one) but… there’s certain areas where it’s actually kinda unclear if the connection is actually there or if Edie is kinda forcing it for the sake of a good story.

Like, Barbara was a horror movie child star and her death reads like a cheesy horror story - but that’s because Edie chose a cheesy horror retelling to represent it. Maybe if we knew the real story of how she died, it wouldn’t be quite so on-the-nose. Did Gus actually love flying kites to the point it defines his entire personality or was that just something he did on the day he died? Either way, he’s defined by that one activity forever now.

And Gregory… like I’m sure he enjoyed bath-time, but the fact he’s memorialized almost exclusively with bath toys and soap is kinda fucked-up. I’m sure he had other toys he loved to play with outside the tub as well, but all of his memorials are focused entirely on the thing that killed him.

Edith’s attitude, as can be seen through the game, is different. Edith can appreciate the beauty of Edie’s stories but also cares quite a bit about truth and accuracy. The difference is most obvious when it comes to their books. Both Ediths wrote a story about coming back to their old childhood home and discovering the family secrets - only Edie’s story, “The History of the Finches”, seems to be complete fiction and based on what she would’ve wanted to be true, while Edith did actually go to her old childhood home and tried to record it as accurately as possible. And while she’s limited in telling the death stories that Edie kept records of, she also notes the points when they seem ridiculous or inaccurate to her.

She documents the tall-tale about how Sven was killed by a dragon, but also clarifies that he was killed while trying to construct a dragon-shaped sled. Rather than just perpetuating Edie’s joke for the sake of the fantasy.

Plus, she doesn’t just focus on the Finches’ deaths, she does try and tell Christopher about their lives as well. It’s not always easy, since with the older generations Edith often doesn’t have much to go on outside of Edith’s memorialization, but she does try to get a General Vibe out of them from their room and other mementos they left behind (like Sam’s improvised darkroom in the wall-passegeways) rather than just the death story. And when it comes to the people Edith actually remembered well herself - Lewis, Dawn and Edie - she’s constantly telling little anecdotes and details of their life together.

In a way, I kinda divide “What Remains of Edith Finch” into three main parts. The first third of the game, with Edie’s kids, is the one that centers on the mystery of whatever the ‘curse’ is real or not - and is also a character study of Edie herself via the lense of the people that she lost. The second part is basically that but for Dawn, it’s about Edith learning to understand her mother’s character via the loss of Sam, Gregory, Gus, Sanjay and Milton. The Lewis segment is a transition between that third and the last third - which is about Edith Finch herself. Even if Edith can paint a full picture of both life and death for all of her dead relatives, she can at least give Christopher a good insight to his mother, grandmother and great-great grandmother.

And notably, the two people Edith ‘has’ to memorialize herself without Edie’s postmorten involvement, Edie herself and Dawn, get a very different treatment from every other Finch. They don’t get a ‘proper’ Death Story documenting or describing their last moments. The closest thing is Edith’s flashback of the day they moved out of the House, which is more of a Death Flashback for the Finch Family as a concept than to Edie and Dawn as individuals. We do know that Dawn died of some sort of illness, but it’s delivered to us at the end of a longer passage about the life they had together. And we really don’t know anything but how Edie died at the end.

If Edith doesn’t know how Edie died, she’s shown no interest in trying to figure it out - if she does already know, she doesn’t think her spesific cause of death is important to write down for her son. The important thing is for him to learn what kind of person Edie was in life, and Edith has more than enough understanding of her great-grandma to memorialize her without defining her entirely through some sort of of romanticized tragic death.

And, like the most important thing to remember is that Edith questions the concept of the Curse in her journal. Like, the game and the journal are one and the same. So, like all of these passages that are important for the ‘there’s no supernatural curse’ interpetation:

Christopher is reading these lines as well. If we are capable of playing “What Remains of Edith Finch” and understanding the ‘Curse’ as being a self-fulfilling prophecy - then Christopher is also capable of reading his mother’s journal and coming to the same conclusion. I mean, it’s not a certain thing. There’s plenty of players who read the Curse as a real supernatural force and that’s also a valid interpetation of the game’s text. And there’s like, actual grown-ass adults who played this game and decided it’s actually about a serial-killer granny. So maybe it’s asking a bit too much from a little grieving eight-years-old to immediately understand this as a story of unhealthy trauma coping mechanisms through the generations.

But my point isn’t that there is 100% no possibillity of Christopher dooming himself like every other Finch before him, or that Edith made the objectively correct decision in writing this journal and basically saved her son from the ‘Curse’. It’s just that he’s not doomed... it can still go either way. Christopher might have read this and started to believe in the Curse and perpatured the cycle onwards, or he might have come to the same conclusion Edith did - that believing in these stories made them real - and decided to try and do better than those who came before him. Or maybe he came to one conclusion but will later change his mind. As long as he’s alive, there’s is at least the possbility that things will turn out better.

“What Remains of Edith Finch” ends with the shot of the two things that ‘remained’ of the two Edith Finches of the game. The House is What Remained of Edith ‘Edie’ Finch Sr. A glorious and sad monument of mourning, now forever frozen in time as a memorium for the tragedy of the Finch Family. And Christopher is What Remained of Edith Finch Jr. An actual living human being with his whole life ahead of him, who still has the potential to doom or save himself.

Good luck.

#what remains of edith finch #edith finch #wroef #christopher finch #edie finch #dawn finch

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