#but they stay friends and joke about it later

[syoddeye]

cut me down, level me | ghoap x reader | 3.2k cw: alcohol, jealous reader, nasty+mean ghost, harassment, nonconsensual touching/manhandling, masturbation a/n: title from i wish i was you by creux lies.

it’s johnny’s birthday.

you grouse the entire time you get ready. mood utterly unsalvageable even with the right playlist. the emergency bottle of prosecco in your refrigerator can’t rescue you either—it’s turned sour and vinegary, probably like the evening ahead.

johnny texts, his message asking for your eta littered with typos. he’s sent it not in your private chat, but the one with his worse half. 

he promised, repeatedly, that simon, the principal pain in your ass that—“he’ll be on his best behavior. hand on heart, i swear.”

you’ve heard that one before.

it doesn’t matter what you do. by the time the rideshare pulls up outside their flat, you half-consider staying in the car and heading straight back home. cozying up in bed with your laptop feels infinitely better than the prospect of enduring lousy company.

because for all johnny’s reassurances, you know simon. he’s the thorn in your side. the wedge between you and your best friend.

you were practically raised together after your family moved in next door. you spent as many holidays at the mactavish house as your own. even after johnny enlisted, nothing changed—you were still the first person he’d call with news, and he was still the one you trusted to share things you wouldn’t tell anyone else. 

and then, two christmases ago, simon arrived. six-foot-something stupid, he muscled his way in, taking up more space than he had any right to, crowding into johnny’s life like he’d always been there. 

“simon? it’s good to finally meet you. johnny talks about you all the time.” you’d said, hand extended, trying to make a good impression. neck craned to the man filling the doorframe. simon smirked, something flat and condescending in his voice as he replied, hand already hinging possessively around johnny’s nape.

“i thought only i could call you ‘johnny’. not ‘ow you make a man feel special, is it.”

you remember how he shouldered around you without another word, greeting the rest of the mactavishes with bourbon and presents like some drab mancunian santa claus.

johnny found you seething later that evening and delivered the first of a thousand apologies. said he was embarrassed by simon’s cold shoulder, and you forgave him—not because you believed him, but because you felt sorry that his boyfriend was a territorial buffoon.

a mistake.

you know couples spend most of their time together. you’re not stupid or naive enough to think they’d be any different, but somehow it’s worse. you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve spent with johnny one-on-one since they got together. simon’s always there, lurking. there’s no sharing with him.

you’ve tried to bring it up with johnny quietly, mostly over text, since phone calls and video chats are never private, but it’s like he can’t see his velcro boyfriend at his side. he doesn’t question it, not really. he’ll admit simon’s a bit rough around the edges, that his jokes cross the line or that his comments make your skin crawl, but he brushes them off. there’s always an excuse, some reason to overlook it. you just hope it’s only a matter of time before johnny sees simon for what he really is and breaks it off.

a no-good interloper, pissing on everything–

when you knock, it’s simon who answers the door. music spills out around him, voices rising and falling in the glow of light behind his broad shoulders. he looks at you, slow and deliberate, his eyes dragging from your shoes to your face, as if you’re a stranger. then he tilts his head in a silent well?

you’ve learned that it is you who must move around him, in all contexts. you are the invader. he doesn’t flinch when you cram under his thick arm braced against the door. he mutters a snide comment about the cut of your shirt—can see straight down that—breath fanning over your head. your face burns instantly, blistering hot. as you pass, the bottle of wine in your hand “accidentally” finds his ribs, and for a second, you feel a flicker of satisfaction.

“oops!” 

you flee beeline for johnny.

he’s already tipsy, the lush, but he’s at least happy to see you. 

“there she is.” his face is flushed from drink, and he pulls you into a bear hug, pressing a few sloppy kisses against your cheek. “i was just tellin’ simon it’s no’ my birthday without ye.”

you lean into him, briefly nuzzling his chest, breathing in his grounding scent. asshole boyfriend or not, how could you consider abandoning your boy?

“shameless flirt.”

“dinnae i ken it.”

he pouts when you peel away and excuse yourself, promising to find him after making the rounds.

you count maybe two dozen people spread through the house, a mix of old classmates, distant acquaintances, and soldiers. more arrive in waves, and you’re glad for the buffer. enough bodies between you and simon to keep him at a comfortable distance.

time moves in fits and starts. you drink enough to feel a buzz and resolve, half-heartedly, to enjoy yourself and mingle. there’s no shortage of good-looking men in johnny’s circle, and you might as well flirt a little. it seems like the kind of thing you should be doing, though your heart isn’t really in it.

you meet another john, polite but pointed about the ring on his finger. then kyle, who seems interested until he asks your name and then suddenly isn’t. after a couple more dead ends, you give up entirely, feeling more lousy than when you arrived. but it’s johnny’s birthday, and it’s bad form to leave before midnight. so, instead, you decide to keep to yourself and wait it out.

problem is, you start bumping into simon.

wherever you go—the den, the kitchen, the front steps for air—simon appears. he doesn’t make a show of following you, but you feel it all the same. his gaze finds you like a searchlight, dissecting you piece by piece. just waiting to say shit. his expression doesn’t shift when you glance his way, no shame in being caught staring. it’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking, but whatever it is, it doesn’t feel particularly benign. his presence settles like a weight on your back. 

he doesn’t let you find any refuge with johnny, either. of course not. birthday boy is blissfully unaware, wrapped up in his own celebration, probably thinking simon’s sudden surge of public affection and attention are gifts. from across the room, simon’s gaze is heavy on you, his arm draped possessively around johnny’s waist, hand settling unashamedly on his ass for a grope. you catch his eye once, and without missing a beat, he leans in, planting a kiss behind johnny’s ear, making him squirm mid-conversation. 

it pisses you off. curdles your bad mood into a rotten one.

with an hour left until midnight, you try to avoid simon as much as possible. it probably seems petty to slip away the moment he walks into a room or to retreat into silence when he lingers too close, but you don’t care. he’s stifling and unbearable—like he’s decided to babysit you to make sure you’re on your best behavior. and there’s no telling johnny. you won’t ruin the night for him by stirring up trouble.

at one point, you take too long at the makeshift bar in the kitchen, and he corners you mid-pour.

simon clicks his tongue, shifting his weight just enough to box you in with his chest and shoulders. “what’s that now, your fourth? fifth?” his voice is low, a rough-edged drawl, head dipping and chasing your ear when you try to duck away. “keep this up, sweet’eart, and you’ll be sleepin’ it off between us.” the grin that stretches his mouth feels too sharp, his eyes glinting as he leans in, the heat of him unnervingly close, his bulk a deliberate intrusion into your space.

the image his words conjure arrives unbidden, sending a disorienting jolt down your spine. you see yourself there, curled against johnny’s chest, while another, hulking body melding to your back, presence suffocating and unwanted. the thought lingers for a heartbeat before it vanishes in a rush of disgust, leaving you like a dog with its hackles raised, bristling with the instinct to flee.

you shove past, wine sloshing perilously close to the rim as you go, his rasping chuckle drifting after you.

another hour passes in a blur, but you salute yourself—only a quarter-hour to freedom. problem is, all that wine’s caught up, and the door to the downstairs toilet has been locked for a stretch. you cast a casual glance around, your eyes tracking the shape of your persistent shadow, and find him finally occupied with the other john, his back turned to you for the first time all evening. it’s a quick, maybe ill-advised decision to slip upstairs, but you really have no choice. you have to pee before you leave, and besides, it’s a teensy fuck you to the man who’s followed you all night.

the music from downstairs hums through the floor, covering your movements just enough that you don’t bother to tiptoe.

their bedroom is unfamiliar, but johnny’s presence clings to the space in bits and pieces. a framed photo of johnny in his first uniform, his mother leaning against his arm. an old rugby medal, propped against a stack of books, a few of which you gifted him. on the wall beside the bed, a collage of photos: summers at the mactavish cottage, christmas dinners with both your families, johnny mid-laugh with his arm slung casually around your shoulders in more than one.

you spot an old toy soldier from the same set johnny used to make elaborate battles with when you were kids. it sits next to a half-empty bottle of expensive bourbon you don’t recognize, probably something simon probably picked out. the mixture of old and new, of johnny and simon, is dizzying. jealousy wells up in your chest. you were there for all those moments. you knew him when he played soldier in the garden, when he rolled his eyes through family holidays and snuck you out at dessert. you were the constant, long before simon’s shadow overtook everything.

you slink into the bathroom, eyes stinging and chest tightening. it’s the wine.

washing your hands, your eyes land on a half-empty bottle of cologne you don’t recognize. while the rideshare app spins uselessly, you take a whiff and hum. it’s johnny’s. you rub a fingertip over the atomizer, too paranoid to take even a quarter-spray. the residual will have to do. instead, you press a fingertip to the atomizer, then smear a trace behind your ear just as the app pings. finally.

you pull the door open, eyes trained on the app’s countdown and mind tangling with how to say goodbye to johnny. you don’t notice the figure outside until you step straight into it, a solid wall of muscle. you stagger, caught off guard, but before you can register what’s happening, he presses forward, steering you back inside the bathroom. your phone drops to the counter with a clatter. a hand smelling of smoke and salt clamps over your mouth.

“stop fussin’,” simon mutters, clipped with irritation. his fingers dig into your cheeks, forcing your jaw tight as he leans back just far enough to shut the door. you batter his chest with your fists, which he swiftly captures when he swivels back. “i said stop. need to chat.” 

your phone buzzes against the counter, the soft vibration loud against the marble. simon glances down, his expression darkening as he spots the car on the screen. with a tap of his thumb, he cancels the ride, lips curling into something that isn’t quite a smile. “sneakin’ out already? night’s young.”

your words are lost under his palm, protests garbled into nothing. heat flushes your face, humiliation prickling your skin as you try to twist free. glaring, you tell him how creepy he’s being, how weird he is, voice rising even though it’s barely audible. for a moment, his expression doesn’t shift, then something flickers behind his eyes, like a shark finding chum in the water. he leans in, his hips pinning yours, and his nose drags over where you’d rubbed the scent.

“you little thief,” he murmurs, voice thick with disdain. his hand eases just enough to let you speak.

“i thought it was johnny’s.” you finally say, throat tight, pulse fluttering at its base.

“it’s ours,” he sneers. “we share. everything.”

you scoff, the sound bitter in the small space between you. “you? don’t make me laugh.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

for a second, you stare in disbelief, chest heaving in shallow breaths. he still has you held against the counter, and you realize you smell it on him, too. 

you can’t have just this one thing.

word vomit comes out in a rush, spliced with the fury and frustration that’s been building all night, no, for months, mixed with the tang of cheap pinot. “you fucking stole johnny from me. he was my best friend, my johnny, before you. i’ve called him that my whole life. and then you—you show up, sap up all of his attention, and now he never has time for me. it’s never just me and him, you’re always fucking there.” the confession hangs in the air. it is more honest than you meant, but there is no going back.

simon tilts his head, looking down at you like he’s trying to figure something out, his hand firm under your jaw. his fingers press in, not quite hard, just enough to keep you there, and then he leans in close, his forehead nearly touching yours. you try to look away, eyes darting to the side, but he won’t let you.

“’s that what you need? johnny’s attention?” his thumb drags over the curve of your cheek, pressing until it hooks inside your mouth. “my attention?”

“no-awh! no’ yoursth!” 

your tongue brushes the pad of his thumb, a shudder rolling through you before you remember your teeth. he remembers too, yanking his thumb away just as your bite snaps shut, catching your tongue instead. you yelp, the sting immediate and hot.

he coos, low and mocking, his hand sealing over your mouth again. his weight presses you against the counter, pinning you effortlessly in place. your hands, useless against the unyielding plane of his chest, clutch at his forearm instead, desperate to free your face. then his knee jabs forward, knocking a muffled cry from your throat. the impact drives you onto your toes, the cupboard beneath you taking the blow and holding his knee steady, leaving you no choice but to remain perched, precarious and trembling, to avoid putting your weight on him.

“this ‘as been my problem with you since day one. you’re a dishonest and jealous woman. can’t be ‘appy for johnny. can’t be polite to me–”

you hiss and spit at that, outrage starting and stalling. he’s done nothing—as if he’s—unbelievable—but you’re wasting your breath, not merely because his stupid, meaty paw’s lodged over your mouth, but because it’s simon. two years in, and you know better. arguing with him is like shouting into the void. useless, exhausting. your calves burn from holding yourself up, thighs trembling under the strain, but he doesn’t let up, doesn’t ease an inch.

“always whining, always makin’ our boy feel like shit with your desperate, depressing texts–” his knee slides and nudges between your legs, finding the seam of your jeans. “–always runnin’ away from us, not letting it happen, be easy...”

your face finally turns, but he only leans in further, his forehead skimming yours, settling heavily against your temple. chapped lips graze your cheek, words spilling straight into your skin, warm air puffing through his nostrils like a beast. “trying to sneak out, makin’ me keep an eye on you all night…” you squeeze your eyes shut, heat crawling up your neck and over your scalp. this is bad. very bad. it’s johnny’s birthday, and his boyfriend has you cornered in the bathroom. your thoughts snarl in panic and guilt. you hardly register simon’s voice anymore, his lecture breaking into shards your brain can’t piece together.

until he says something that pierces the fog. growls it into your ear, close enough his tongue needlessly flicks the shell.

“i’m not ‘aving it anymore. you understand? you ain’t leavin’ tonight.”

simon unhurriedly tilts your head back, then presses you down onto his knee. you swallow hard, a noise catching somewhere deep and undignified. if he notices, he doesn’t let on.

“i’m gonna let go, and you’re gonna keep quiet. you’re gonna be a good girl, come back downstairs, and not go makin’ a scene. or do i need to spell out what ‘appens if ya don’t, or are ya as sharp as ‘e’s always makin’ out?”

you don’t need him to say it. the threat is there, in between your legs, and if you looked down, you’d see it between his, too. it doesn’t matter what you want. 

it doesn’t matter what simon wants, either, you think. if it did, you’d probably still be in the bathroom with him. 

he’s been abundantly clear. the only thing that matters is what johnny wants.

from where he sat you on the end of the bed, hands fidgeting in your lap, you glimpse movement through the cracked door. grunting. he told you to spit in his palm before he sent you out, and now you know why. his hand sounds slick and furious over his length. your stomach clenches, eyes watering from staring unblinkingly at the rug beneath your feet. you wonder if it’s not punishment but a prelude. or worse, his idea of a favor. a demonstration. as long as you’re good and quiet. as long as you stay.

when he comes, he’s nearly silent. a word or two gnashed between teeth in a whisper. a couple more pumps. then, the flush of the toilet and his zipper.

he doesn’t wash his hands. the animal.

simon lifts an eyebrow, and you scurry toward the door, though the snap of his tongue slows you. he stays a breath behind you as the warmth and noise of the party swallow you both whole, no one any wiser. instinctively, you angle left, toward the door, but his finger hooks through the back loop of your jeans, steering you elsewhere.

johnny’s in a merry state, glassy-eyed and slack-jawed, caught somewhere between shock and delight at seeing both of you settle beside him. you’re wedged in the middle on the couch, their solid thighs pressing yours. across the coffee table, the men you met earlier nod in your direction, and you return a stiff smile, pretending nothing’s amiss. johnny’s hand lands on your knee with a familiar squeeze, his grin boyish and lopsided. behind you, a heavier arm stretches across the back of the couch, simon’s fingers brushing your shoulder lightly. the scent of the cologne mingles with simon’s musk, wrinkling your nose.

johnny leans in, his voice an exaggerated whisper slurred at the edges. his eyes, wide and glassy, flit between the two of you with an almost childlike excitement.

“nice to see ye gettin’ along. just for me?”

simon chuckles. “told ya i’d be good, didn’t i?” his fingers curl beneath your collar, resting there. an ultimatum. “it’s a joint gift. ain’t that right?”

your eyebrows lift in a wider, strained smile.

“yep. happy birthday, johnny.”

[itsmeyaspider]

Visual Love~

Yandere Baki Hanma x reader x Yandere Ohma Tokita

Triggers: yandere behavior, stalking, doxing

>>Art is not mine!! All credits go to the artist!<<

Finally! After a long time of waiting, your two favorite martial arts anime are getting their own videogame, it feels almost like Christmas! Once you'd seen the movie Baki Hanma vs Kengan Ashura, you couldn't wait anymore to play the game to the movie.

You were so pleased that you took the day off to play the game. Some people would call you crazy for making such a fuss over a mobile game, but you couldn't help it. You're just to happy that your favorite characters were represented in other media than only in manga or anime!

You stare at your phone when it's finally 9:00 am, with a huge smile on your face you go to the play store as you see the game, you immediately download it. Your excitement grows bigger and bigger as you decide to go to the kitchen to grab your favorite drink, to cross the long wait.

After a few minutes the game is downloaded, you press the app button as you get greeted with a red glowing screen. A huge white front appears with the 'Baki Hanma vs Kengan Ashura the mobile game'. A few seconds later your two favorite characters, Baki and Ohma also appear on the screen. You could feel how your heart starts to beat faster, as your excitement also grew. You finally press start and immediately the screen is filled with a battle arena. It was a good decision to stay at home today!

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A few hours go by as you can't stop playing this game! It has similarities to Mortal Kombat or Street Fighter, and each of the individual characters has their own signature move with their own special attacks. Well, since you only play as Ohma or Baki, you couldn't really tell what the other special attacks are like, but you honestly didn't care that much about it. You have to much fun winning online fights with those two, that you simply forgot the other ones.

Time flies by as you only now realize how hungry you are. It is already afternoon and because of the game you had forgotten to eat something. With a small sigh you are about to close the app as you notice something strange. A small window pops up.

Don't go....

Weird you think as you brush it off, maybe it is a bug which still needs to be fixed. You finally close the app as you leave your phone on the couch and head towards the kitchen to cook yourself something to eat.

After dinner you decide to take it easy, so you grab your phone as you head to your way to comfortable bed. You slowly start to lay down as you swipe through your contacts. Only now do you realize that the messages from your best friend's chat haven't shown to you. God this phone would kill you one day. You try to open the chat but before you could read it something weird again happened.

(B/f): Heyoooo! :3What's up?! Do you want to face-?¿?¿?¿

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error

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error

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What the fuck?? You roll with your (e/c) eyes in annoyance as the entire app freezes and crashes down. Surely that has to be a bad joke right?! Why does your phone hate you so much? You're trying to calm yourself down as suddenly another message pops up. At first you couldn't believe what you read there...was this even possible?! It takes you a short while to realize that this isn't a weird thought you had, infact this is real. A message from the BvK game pops up, something you didn't thought was ever possible, but maybe the creator added something like that to create more variety...

C'mon let's play! Don't leave us hanging here....

A cold shiver runs down your spine as you suddenly have an uneasy feeling in your stomach. Did someone manage to hack into your damn phone and try to scare you?! Or is your phone so old that it just starts to collapse. You clearly didn't know the answer right now. "Maybe I'm just to paranoid... I guess I need to calm down a bit." You tell yourself as you shrugg the weird feeling off, opening the app again. You spend the rest of the evening paying the game, you didn't have much else to do anyway. But you can't shake the strange feeling of that you're being watched.

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A few days passed and everything became a little more normal again. Maybe it was paranoia after all...You went to your job, did finish the work for today and then went home. You usually eat some food and then continue to play BvK. There is something about the game, what made you addicted. You just couldn't stop playing it. The strange thing is that whenever you wanted to try out other characters that wasn't Baki or Ohma, the whole game would freeze and a huge black screen would appear. Maybe another bug who didn't get fixed yet?

With a small sigh you start to bite your underlip as you stare at the character selection, of course Ohma and Baki will always have special places in your heart, you loved them both but you wanted to try out other characters too! Especially when (b/f) tells you how cool Kaolan or Jack is to play! It can't be that the game keeps crashing when you want to play someone else. Maybe this god damned bug is finally gone...

Your (e/c) eyes glide over the character selection as you take a few minutes to decide. "Then...hmm..I will take you Pickle!" You say to yourself as you sincerely hope that the game has finally been fixed. You click on the 'Fight' button, but before the loading screen could even show up the game starts to freeze and everything goes black. "Not again...oh come one..."

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Why are you doing this?!

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Are we not enough?!

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Don't you see it, we are meant to be together!

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This isn't funny (Y/n)...

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error

error

error

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You will be ours....

What the hell?!! Out of sheer reflex, you throw your phone against the wall as you watch in bewildered, how it hits the ground. What the fuck...? Did someone really try to talk to you? Where does this game know your god damn name?! The shock runs deep as you decide not to touch the phone anymore, there's clearly a virus on it because otherwise you can't explain it logical.

You try your best to calm yourself down, taking a few breaths in and out, but even that doesn't help much. You would love to call (b/f) right now and tell him everything about it, but you don't want to touch this cursed phone anymore. Besides, would (b/f) really believe you? After all, you have no proof about it and in the end (b/f) would think that you're just setting him up again.

With a small sigh, you go into your living room as you sit down on the couch. A new phone would probably be the only best solution, at least you hoped. Even if you didn't have a lot of money to buy such an expensive thing, you got no other choice. Maybe (b/f) could borrow you some money. Slowly you lie down on the couch as you notice how your eyelids get heavier and heavier, you let out a big yawn as you fall asleep.

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The next few days went smoothly, thanks to the help of (b/f) who saved your ass with his money, you were able to buy a new phone. Everything went back to normal, your life got boring again but at least your phone didn't try to blackmail you. Just as you were about to take a shower, a message from (b/f) pops up, with a huge smile on your face you reach for your phone and swipe to the message.

(B/f): "Did you see the new Patch? Ahh they added the death row convicts and fucking Muteba!! (Y/n) you need to play it, I swear it makes so much fun."

You look hesitantly at the message, a cold shiver runs down your spine. Normally, you would have loved to try out the new characters, but something deep inside you tells you not to.

(Y/n): I don't know...what if the virus comes back and destroys also my new phone. :( I'm broke rn I can't effort another phone...

It took no less than a few seconds for another message to pop up.

(B/f): Oh c'mon it won't happen again. Maybe you were a little bit to careless and went to strange sites~😉

You roll your eyes in annoyance as you read the teasing message, another sigh leaves your mouth as you head to the all to familiar play store and download the game again. Maybe (b/f) is right, you were a little bit careless. Besides, what are the chances thar something like this happens twice? The fact that other characters were finally added too made you so happy that you immediately go into your shower. You want to play the games again and this time without any weird coincidences.

Minutes pass and you find yourself on your couch where you start the game again. Just as you are greeted with the all known home screen, you have the feeling that you are being watched again. But this time it's worse that the last times... it's more intense and you almost feel like a small trapped animal that has been cornered by predators. You start to bite on your underlip as you shake off the unpleasant feeling as much as you can, you head straight to the battle arena where you find all the characters, even the new ones.

A small smile graces your lips as your eyes pass slowly through every character. Of course the option to play Baki or Ohma again would be there, but this time you want to play someone else. You know them both very well, their attacks and special moves, anything from it and so it's only logical to try someone new. Your eyes continue to wander around, as they suddenly stop. For a moment you rethink everything about who to really choose, but in the end you decide to play Doyle.

Exitment runs through your body, when the familiar loading screen appears in front of you, it only takes a few seconds as Hector stands in the fighting arena. Oh my god! A rush of relief runs through as you can finally enjoy this game. You play a few rounds with Hector, losing most of the time. Maybe you're not as good as you thought, just as Hector does his final pose, the screen goes black.

Two all too familiar faces walk towards you as they suddenly stop in the middle of your phone screen. Both fighter turn at the same time around, their almost dead eyes looking into yours, it feels like they are in the same room as you. What the hell?! This shit is fucking creepy... immediately you try to close the app, you keep pressing the cross but nothing happens. The eyes of the two fighters continue to penetrate you and it seems like as if they were very angry.

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Suddenly, a message appears above Ohma's head.

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You are really a brat, you know that?! Always trying to fight against us, as if we are some monsters...

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Another message pops up but this time above Baki's head.

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We have tried it in a good way but you didn't care at all...

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A huge message pops up above both their heads, as a small wicked smile spread their lips.

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Good for you that we found a way to break out of this game. You won't escape us any longer.

That is clearly been enough for you, your heart starts beating faster and faster and you couldn't trust your eyes what you actually read. What the fuck is this about?! This is crazy....You grab the phone as you throw it against the wall, you'd rather not have a phone anymore than play this fucking psycho game ever again!

Your thoughts are filled with the messages of the two characters, what do they mean when they wrote they've found a way to break out?! It doesn't make any sense at all!!! Baki and Ohma doesn't even exist... You are so distracted by your own thoughts that you only now notice a strange blue glow from your cell phone. Just as you're about to take a closer look, you suddenly see a fucking hand popping out.

What the fuck?!

This is clearly way to weird, what the hell is this?! Your thoughts are going crazy, your instinct is screaming at you to run! Run as fast as you can, and so you do. You run to your door as you only want to leave this damned apartment as quickly as possible. Your legs carry you and you immediately rush out of the floor towards the street. You don't know where you should run but it doesn't matter right now, the main thing is to get put of this place. You keep running and running, your (h/c) hair makes it impossible to see anything, the wind is to strong. But you need to run, you need to...

You want to cross the road, as you suddenly feel a very strong hand grab you, and pull you towards it. You feel yourself almost falling, but before you can feel the impact of the ground, you are grabbed again in a strong embrace. You slowly open your (e/c) eyes as you stare directly in another pair of brown eyes. The man before you has hazelnut brown, fluffy hair and a birthmark on his lips. You also couldn't ignore the muscles that adorn his body, even though he's wearing a T-shirt, he couldn't hide them. You body begins to tremble as you slowly realize who is standing in front of you. This can't be real...this isn't possible!!

A dark, raspy voice awakes you from your thoughts as another muscular, yet taller man appears behind Baki. This one has black, wavy hair and black eyes. "You don't really make it easy, do you?" Ohmas gaze rests on you like that of a beast. You try to free yourself from the much to strong grip, something what you never believed to be possible, but it was useless. The Hanma seems to he very amused by the sight. "Don't try it (Y/n). You know you have no chance."

Of course you know that you didn't have the slightest chance against even one if this two monsters, Ohma and Baki are superior to you in every way. But your pride can't let that happen! Surely your 14 year old fanfiction fan would have died that these two are standing infront of you, but this isn't a stupid fanfictiin. This is the cruel reality and the reality is that you get captured by two fictional characters just like that. "Let me go!" You stutter out, doing you best to sound as strong as possible.

Ohma tilts his head to the side with a big, almost sadistic smile on bis face. "And what if not? Will you try to fight us then?" You can't miss the mocking tone, but something inside you knows that he is right. You can't fight them... Suddenly you notice how one of Bakis hand grabs your chin, forces you to look at him. "You're ours now, don't try to make us ever angry again. You know what will happen if you do." Full of fear, you nod to his kind yet threatening words as your last hope is slowly fading away. Maybe you should have listened to your instinct...

[stiffyck]

Grian desperately trying to flirt with Scar because he likes him. Grian trying different pick up lines.

Scar flirting back thinking it's just jokes. Scar doing terrible pick up lines because he thinks they're funny.

Grian who's very gay and desperately in love and has been trying to deny it but Scar keeps flirting back and Grian thinking he should just ask scar out.

Vs Scar who's aroace and just thinks grian is joking the whole time. He never realised people actually flirt and try pickup lines for real.

[theotherbuckley]

Okay but Tommy drops out of high school — he told his father he was gay and he told him he could either be homeless or go to military school. He goes to military school and joins the army and he likes flying the helicopters because it means he doesn’t have to do any of the killing himself. And he makes some friends.

There's one guy who's like the squad leader who's a few years old and built like a Greek god and Tommy's young and a little bit in love. And they're friends maybe even family because this whole group of people spend every waking (and sleeping) moment together. And they all talk like a family and they all say they love each other and tease each other and it's nice. And one night it's just the two of them trading a flask of some sort of alcohol that Tommy doesn't know the name of and the man asks Tommy why he joined the army and where he wants to be in five years and Tommy trusts this man. He's half way in love with him so he doesn't even think twice before he tells the story about the time he came out to his family and his father nearly beat him to death before sending him here. And the conversation tapers off after that and he doesn’t register the change in the air but when he wakes up the next morning he’s being dishonourably discharged because he poses “unacceptable risk to the high standards of morale, good order and discipline, and unit cohesion that are the essence of military capability”. He knows what that means.

Tommy joins the fire department because he doesn’t know what else to do. He represses anything regarding his sexuality because he knows now that it’s wrong. He almost feels like he has a family again because his captain seems to like him and some of the guys are cool even if they say things he doesn’t agree with. And then he starts agreeing because maybe they’re right and he’s wrong and he’s just inherently wrong. So he follows their leads and is just straight racist because that’s how he can fit in.

And then a black lesbian woman joins and says she’s a black lesbian woman and Tommy doesn’t understand that either because you can’t be queer you just can’t be because it’s wrong.

But he nearly dies and and an Asian man saves his life and a black lesbian woman comes up with a better idea than any of them had and she tells them she’s no different and she is just as capable. So he improves himself he does and he tries to be better but he still can’t be who he is because the last 2 times he was honest about that he was betrayed.

Tommy leaves the 118 and “don’t ask, don’t tell” is lifted and he meets this guy he likes who likes him back and the 217 don’t seem to have a problem with the gender neutral pronouns and he slowly but surely lets himself open up again and be who he is and when the thing with that guy doesn’t work out because he’s moving to New York and Tommy’s not sure he’s ready to leave, it’s okay because his crew is there and they support him and he can still be himself.

[fluffypotatey]

Can we please see Javy (Top Gun) and Javi (Twisters) in a fic or blurb?

hm well i haven’t written their official intro to each other yet (and i do plan to in Jake’s pov) but i got memes for how it would go down!

it’s literally just two different memes but one’s edited two more times lol

[faaun]

the way that diff languages sound r so fascinating they're all different and all so vivid

[north-wilkesboro-moonshine-cave]

congratulations to Mme. Pascale Leclerc, who has surely just experienced both the funniest and most unhinged weekend a mother could ever have. Dear fucking christ, I hope your middlest son brought you a bottle of champagne for yourself, ma'am.

[nostalgia-tblr]

loki/william rufus fic, where bill explains that as the second son he has inherited england while big brother bob only got the duchy of normandy, ha ha ha.

[boxwinebaddie]

NINAAAAAAAAAAAA? DO YOU HAVE ANY MORE KYLEYB CONTENT? I LOVE HIM

nOOOOOOOOOOOONICA!

-- and do i EVA, dollface!

( edit: the spelling across the board is non-existent. so sorry. you are morally obligated to be nice to me; i have a tumor. also, my apologies for yesterdays post -- it is gone now *shudders at memory* --

i was very manic and upset and the jerseykyle in me that gets angry, really, really is convinced she can kill god...i do think that's still true, but it was very chaotic and embarassing to be like that on the dash.

but if you are worried about the tumor i am trying to have a ( bad ) sense of humor about, again, it’s benign, noncancerous, very, very small, to the point where it requires no surgery or radiation treatment at this time ( i do have a radiology appointment for another brain scan on the 26th so please keep me in ur thots if you can ) and i just have to cope with a lot of gnarly side effects.

i love you and hope you heal. <333 -the u.n.

so...i wrote this weird ~'thing'~ ( i'm not sure what else to call it ) because i was having a very loose and silly-goosed ( but as always, wonderfully and graciously soul-warming ) converslaytion in the dms

with dearest, darlingest teria ( whose work you should not only read and whose art is not only more immaculate than the piss-and-moan-a-lisa, but whose advice, council and conversation i enthusiastically urge you to enlist because she is truly, a little bit of heaven on earth )

and, i don't know, i was doing the silly kyley b voice for shits and giggles in my texts and...it never...left my brain ( is THAT what gave me the brain worms? ) and i had to write my weird ~'thing'~, which is my boy, THE BUOY, kyley bi-atch! talkin’ to the new kid and givin’ them some street-wise, beat-the-shit-out-of-you-poetic advice.

( if you want it...it's down at the VERY BOTTOM -- everyone say hoooola cuervostan ;) xxx -- of this post...i got weirdly passionate talking about kyley b and jersey in general, so you can read all of that if you WANT...but i'll leave the screenshots after everything, so you can scroll down easily and reach it; also...gender neutral, i promise, just girl-scout-squirrely-whirly nicknames, haha. )

cue a future me leaving this here where i left off:

*unfreezes tv screen and a feral past nina springs to life*

also, i am...so sorry in advance for this, bc, okay, look...

-- does he sound like ball bustin', good fa' nothing pauly d, soprano mobstaH? yeah...yeah he sure does, aND WHATTABOUTIT, BETCH?! ( i'm just kidding, you guys; mwah ) but like...is that not The Vibe?

like? he is not supposed to give your rough and tumble ol buddy nino down at the jewish-italian pizzeria who looks like he would rather fkn blow his brains out that take 'ya ordah' ( but loves his ma and his kid brother, and the counter guy got fkn shived, so there he is baby baby;

-- the worst man on planet earth...

…and The LUVH Of My Loife! )

...who repeatedly calls you 'toots', but he's not really hitting on you, he's just trying to size you up ( also, i love you pre-(ed)isordah jersey, the BIGGEST and the baddiest, baby! ah-baddabingbaddaBOOM! )

and he...( quite literally ) wants you to stay the fuck away from him and get the hell out of his shitty city, and, he is THE KYLEY B, BAY-BEE! he's the curliest, cuntiest, coppa'-ist ( do naaaught, howeva, group him in with the bootlickers, or he'll make you lick his...just so HE can call /YOU/ one...like...he is my BF, do you understA-- )

hooOOoo

( i am sorry; he is...my favorite mwob-buoy-bawhss xx )

but...on the inside, underneath it all, really is...just...a fine and truly beautiful specimen, the meaner he is to you, the more you like him...and...you accidentally fall in love with him ( oooY geVAULT! )

that is...in fact, what sweet, sweet stanley marsh did ( he is a genius and a visionary and I RESPECT THE FUCK OUT OF THAT SCARY BOY CRAZY CRUNCHY KALE SALAD KIIIIIIING; like, he really played The Long Game...AND WON!!! HE FUCKING WON, BABEY!!!! like

i have this pre-rm, childhood headcannon, that ( because he was trying not to say stan's name or acknowledge him -- very interesting to me because that is the Same strategy stan employed when he publicly gave kyle the jersey nickname, bc he knew he could not remain detached/unemotional if he said kyle's name --

that babyjk when he lived in south park regularly just called stan 'bambi' or 'sug' or 'masug'; short for 'masugganah' or crazy in yiddish

because rm!santanastan...

( which is what sharon called him, for the band and just to respect his chosen name, in spanish, without alerting randy's suspicions...i will start crying, i should talk abt the south park era of the rm fbs more )

was just this insane boy with gigantic fucking goldfish, cartoon dear eyes who would approach him when no one else would even DARE, was freshly obsessed with him and thought he was the bees knees.

so, because the reader, reminds him a lot of stan...he starts using those little nicknames and i wanted you to know the rm!origin. yes, he does still call stan 'bamb' and 'sug' ( which is cute, because as a nice pet name he likens it to 'sugar' sometimes, aw ) to this day

and i think, almost did it or actually one time with raven of crimson dawn and stan's gigantic fucking sugar glider eyeballs lit up and kyle was HORRIFIED because oh my god, that was a Stanley Marsh ONLY nickname and i used it on this fucking CELEBRITY MAN...like y'know actually bestie, you are a fucking genius…

— that's Your celebrity man.

BUT BACK TO BACK TO KYLEY B, BAAAAAAAAABEY!

who is the red-(H)ead-BIC of NUEW JOISEY, kid!

like my best description is that he's this fast-twalkin, street rat, night life, mortal ( but not really; he basically thinks he's god ) kombative, fucking feral, ruthless palooka-pummeling, curbstomping, pavement leveling, street-fighting piesa' literal gutta trash, or sort of like if luffy from one piece was a mad swole ( emphasis mad, he's pissed and humungous, holy shit ) scary freckled ginger new jersey pirate king

who ( bc i love a visual ) is typically out there, rocking:

a way too tight ( to the point of it almost being threadbare and rolling paper thin; he looks good tho; he's my lil diamond in da ruff ) worn out, extremely stretched out, skin-tight, faded/distressed

( that's fraying and unspooling in several along the mom-mended and barely held-together seams --sounds like a metaphor for something -- with the distracting curly font almost nearly peeled and cracked off ), probably heavily stained ( with blood...and whatever meager, worm-infested brain matta splattered on his shirt when he was bashing some bigshot's stupid head in with a tire iron -- rip; sorry ma -- sunbleached from scorching nj summers that it's almost...brown ) black affliction tank top

some huge, torn-up, baggy, aggresively rhinestone-studded, heavily sequined ( k.b, it's already so hard to see and street hardened, police siren, rough around the edges radiance is already blinding me, please have mercy [ never not once ] ) mike 'the situation' influenced, super quintessentially 2012 jersey shore adjacent ( in that they're very loud, vibrant, in your face, tacky and obnoxious ) faux americana, tattoo parlor-popularized, badly screenprinted, ed hardy jeans ( eyeconick! )

the M-o-s-t ( sigh ) hideous ( and i do mean fucking hideous, sheila broflovski is fashion blind; but she is so beautiful and kind, she is forgiven in every way ) men's size thirteen ( jersey has frighteningly large, monster-sized clown feet ) highlighter green-orange-purple basketball shoes you've ever seen

-- purchased, with love, from the sale rack of ross for dress for less ( where they were collecting dust; no one wanted those things ) and her widely amassment of store credit from...numerous previous returns ) by none other than, my favorite beehive-styling, cherry-red, new jersey hauswife, legendary broflovski matriarch ( she rlly runs that whole fkn house like the navy; choke gerald )

Miss Sheila Broflovski...

the only person who is not scared of the notorious k.m.b. kyley b and routinely, while they're out in public, ft. a baby-faced, mean-mugging kyley b jersey acting all big and bad, will pull him down by the tag of his tank top, go 'you've got some schmutz on your face, bubbula!'

hold down this gigantic, vicious, snarling, menacing, thick as brick, hard as titanium, six foot tall, juvenile detention center frequenting, frightening concrete wall of an eighteen year old boy who looks like he could gut you with his stare alone, like he's a cute, cuddly teddy bear, hawk the loudest, wettest, gnarliest lougie into a schmatta she fished out of her purse and proceed to volently scrub a tiny spot of 'sahwasce' her son's face while he squirms like a feral cat; i love her. )

and the crowning jewels ( or jewels really; not sure if they're real, but they're big and shiny, which is what matters ) duel-ery, which i call that because…

he literally weaves his way through the back-door inner-city system of crime in new jersey through info he mercilessly squeezed out of a coupla peabrained Gabbagoons, uses what little information he could decipher out of those fkn weasel's pathetic wheezes to deadpool square to wherever their bosses lair is…

makes them regret they were even born, beats them with in AN INCH of their sorry life, leaves them lying in a pool of their own gross blood, stamps a big, blingy 'B' on their forehead and browses the shattered, blood-soaked display case and five-finger discounts ( but really, if you just won a major battle or boss fight; clearly, you deserve kind of reward or compensation, right, guys? and by his logic...you're not rlly stealing what quite morally wrong, but rightfully...belongs to you )

...whatever the largest and most impressive ( or not, tbh, sometimes he's like 'ugh, really...a toe ring? that's your big come up?' ) piece of jewelry they're wearing is, sterlizes it, and flexes it it on his body and on the streets as a silent, but deadly warning to all other 'so-called' king pens and 'unstoppable' underground crime lords that

'oh, that guy YOU were scared of? i beat the piss outta him, he cried like a fucking baby, he bled like a stuck pig and is lying in the fucking sewer like a half-dead rat. and if you fuck with me; you'll be next ) and scare legit 60 y/o robert deniro level frightening men, who have been running the game since the crimson dawn of time…

-- Into SUBMISSION.

...at like...seventeen or eighteen years old.

LIKE HE IS A FUCKING LEGEND IN NEW JERSEY. they still whisper about him TO THIS DAY and have to look over their shoulders before they do...like he was that fucking Terrifying when he was out there.

and i need you to know that he is H-U-G-E. like the incredible hulk HUGE. he's not like, this scrawny, gangly, sniveling little ginger vanilla wafer cookie rolling up on you...he is like, this six foot two, gigantic size thirteen shoe wearing, slim-jim-ripping, gum and fist snacking,

NFL FOOTBALL FIELD PLAYER WIDE, like not just some measly, tiny-itsy bitsy football player -- oh, no; you wish -- he is STACKED AND JACKED, he is ten times wider than the widest receiver...he is the WHOLE DAMN FOOTBALL FIELD BITCH, fkn might-o-chrondia ( because he is the new jersey powerhouse of the concrete and hard titanium juvenille deliquient cell, which shakes when he walks, bro. )

tldr; KYLEY B IS FRECKLY, JEWISH, GINGER, NEW JERYSIAN 'THE THING' FROM THE FANTASTIC FOUR, COULD VERY EASILY BODY YOU, OR VIOLENTLY DISMEMBER AND KILL YOU AND MAKE THAT SHIT LOOK LIKE L-I-G-H-T WORK. AND I MEAN THAT.

but...he actually, believe it or not, does NOT...Kill People?

which, i honestly want to say, is stanley marsh's gentle 'post-mortem' pacifist influence still lingering around him like the sweetest ghost.

because, honestly, i think a lot of those people deserve to fucking die, not just for being extremely fucking cruel to jerseykyle for literally just existing, for how he looks of all things, his fucking APPERANCE!

( it's the teacher in me, but child and adolescent bullying, particularly in school settings, really makes me viciously angry and very, Very fucking sad because it causes soooo much psychological damage to the victim, who most likely did nothing to warrant such incessant and merciless taunting -- that was probably perpetrated because he was whip-smart, and therefore a fucking nerd, significantly larger than other boys, wore glasses, has a 'funny', loud, cartoonish voice...

( which is simply...a dialect and manner of speaking that he literally developed from growing up in new jersey and from his mother teaching him how to talk -- that shouldn't at all diminish the weigh his words carry or the meaning behind them; which, minus...a little...or a lot, of potty-mouthed sailor swearing -- which, again, only fucking happened because he was so viciously bullied, he had to adopt a harsh, slangy, malicious vernacular -- is often extremely profound, academic and reflects a very introspective perspective )

and because he's immunocompromised, had to report to the nurse's office frequently throughout the day to prick his finger and check his blood pressure for his diabetes and is often, very, very sick -- which i guess makes other kids view him as weak, but most damningly was that...he didn't fit into the mold ( or, uh, most traditional size ranges, sheila only bought him clothes from the 'big and tall' men's section of most department stores because he was so Large in stature,

like he could not squeeze into child-sized...anything; meanwhile ravenstan has itsy, bitsy baby feet and could probably slide his non-existent ass -- you are so sexy king, i love you, you needed a flaw -- into a pair of the largest sized black pair of skinny jeans they got on the racks of the junior girls section of target...like, he could and he would look damn Good too! like go AWHFF king!

HES SOOO BAD! i need to focus, but before i do~

btw; rs definitely sent jk a picture to laff. he was like damn, i am sorry it won't load; will you send five more from different angles? HELP )

but, anyways, my lifetime horny writer girl max security prison sentence aside ( and pending ), he just wasn't traditionally thin or tiny or conventionally attractive or healthy like most other boys or children and general were..so the other kids, probably ring-leaded by the most convention of the bunch, othered him, dedicated making every single day of his life miserable and made his life a living hell...

...just to have a little 'fun' at recess and laugh.

FUCK. THAT.

because, i don't know, bullying like that, creates what are usually painful lifelong feelings of self-inferiority, very difficult to remedialize through therapy and selfcare, social emotional issues with expressing yourself/emotions in healthy positive ways, militant self-isolation

and ALL of that happened to jerseykyle...and on top of just never hearing 'i love you' from his father, that hate he received from the outside world, forced him the keep everything inside and it's why he couldn't tell ravenstan he loved him, because basketball is just a game,

...but it never FUCKING ended and he could only alternate between being defensive or offensive, there was never a bell that sounded to tell him he could stop playing and that it was over, and return to 'normal', that was his normal, because, from all his overwhelming negative experiences with vulnerability, if he stopped treading water, every shark on planet earth would smell his blood in the water...

and spill it everywhere. :(

NINA, DID YOU HAVE A POINT? AND WERE YOU EVER GONNA GET THERE? i...think so? i think the point is that, these are bad people that kyley kg fucking b was putting the hurt on...and the point is that, because, like i said, he considers himself a 'debt collector' and appears villainous bc of his vicious disposition,

is really more like...

a misunderstood antihero than anything?

he's kind of like a red robin hoodie, if you will, because he goes after rapists, child molesters, guys who hurt women/animals/the weak, power-hungry bastards in suits who use that power for evil and take it out on those who are stricken with poverty, like, he is a violent criminal...but he takes out even More violent criminals.

hot boy shit!

and yeah, he does do it sort of vaingloriously sometimes, for street cred, to wear people's status symbols on his hand and placate that hurt place in himself by being scary and ferocious and making motherfuckers pay for what they did for him and how they treated him...and with all that blood in his eyes, he gets blind to the ethical portion of what he's doing...but, subconsciously...

he's doing it...

— For GOOD.

and killing people, the notion of it, not only made stanley marsh, punk rock pacifist prince, violently, violently sick, but it's also, one, too messy, a lot on his hands ( already quite heavy with his heisted and thieved jewels and video game loot ) but...i don't know? he really loves his mom, you know? batshit insane as that woman is, he loves her to death...and does spare bad-guys because of it. because everyone has a mom and not everyone's mom is kind and lovely like his, but they could...and he's sending their kid back home to them...

...in a [ BOX ].

it just...it didn't sit right with him ( he acts unbothered by the idea of murdering people...but, unless he had to, like if it was going to kill someone else and the only way to fix it would be to kill the thing about to kill them, he could do it, and again...he could do it easily. )

he also acts simultaneously above the 'laur' and studies it in school, but ultimately...what happens to this fuck-ups after he fucks them up...is not up to him. whether they live or die, that is. he gave them what was coming to them...and the rest is up to someone else.

and i won't get into it too much ( A LIE; but i have like 74937403 other blurbs about this in my drafts, i should not ferally release all that insanity in here ) but it's interesting...because rm!jersey, loses a lot of that subconscious 'good' in the process of being 'bad'.

because, after his drastic kyley b transformation into ivy league jersey, he, for the first time, is being noticed in a 'positive' way by people on the outside and he's getting 'positive' attention from them, and he feels...for once, powerful — even though, really, he's essentially rendered powerless and is chained to the approval of these people and destroys himself every moment of everyday...to be in a pretty, and small, and palatable package for them...

( yes, i want k*ll myself. )

but he BECOMES the very EVIL that he was hellbent on destroying and starts doing EXACTLY what those people did to him. and because he is so unhappy and morose and hurt and devastated, he finds outsiders, weak people, but mostly, just looks...happy? :((((

…unbothered, merely existing...and decides

to psychologically debase and torture every drop of happiness from that individual, to make his self esteem better and make him feel like, good, i am so much better than that miserable worm, squirming away, squinting at the light it once basked in...

now it can be as insufferable and small...

— As I Am. </3

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. BROTHERS, THIS SHIT MAKES ME SO SAD. I AM SOOOOO UPSET LOL.

NOOOOOO--

and they're both brutal, kyley b and jerseykyle ( who, really, do need that distinction because they are...VERY different ) jersey, one, is far worse than kyley b, i don't CARE if he could twist your intestined into rope and hang you with them...the things that jerseykyle can say, as the most beautiful man EVER, Using That Voice,

looking at you with the most disgust and contempt and unworthiness you've ever felt and completely debase you in a couple crisp, dififnued, academic words...and not touch you a single time, bc you're pathetic and beneath him...you can heal a broken bone in a couple weeks...but your mind? your heart? your self esteem?

your once…wealthy, healthy feelings of self worth?

when jerseykyle reduces you into ash with his eyes, when your body was a temple and he burns it down, like somehow, it will make his stronger where he feels weak and helpless or like it will some how vindicate stanley marsh...it is very, very, very difficult to make that rubble into a city again. like...that man will RUIN YOU LIFE.

( pleaaaAasee kiss me!!! pICK ME CHOOSE MESHSJ )

but jersey is scary in a very...bone-chilling, below-freezing, self-pleasing, self-destructive ( but in a more subtle, seemingly artistic, less 'unhand me, you big brute, ya no-good palooka' kind of way...

and, instead, it's this twisted, muted, shadowy…

...oh wow, you...really are the devil in a fresh pressed suit, college student siren who leads boys to their untimely demise, and drains them of their lifeforce in his bedroom they way he would a dry glass of wine or a cheap bodega cigarettes like in a tasteful, snake charmer kind of way...a dark academic, sleek, chic, fuck-and-succubus way )

like jerseykyle is a very pretentious, jane austenatcious, bond villian type of self-destructive...that revolves around mentally preying on the weak/innocent...because he hates himself and wants literally everyone to hate themselves more than him...so he can like himself.

and when he guts you its, in a mentally incapacitant, poisonous, cruel and insidious way, in a...classically trained, philosophical, fashionable, was...in the way a thorn on the most beautiful rose you've ever seen would gut you...or a delicate antique letter opener...might slash your palm open, gash you and bleed you dry...

whereas kyley b was a faaaar less tasteful or restrained ( in that sense but jersey is still unhinged ) destroyer of worlds...he was very hands on, ( jerseykyle will not touch you unless he has to, he'll only punch you if you will not shut the fuck up and touch you as little and impersonally as possible to sleep with you…which is ironic, i know )

kyley b is a very fast and loose, wild animal, loose canon, carnivorous 'i'll slice ya and dice ya and put ya on ice ya' and beat you until you are bloody and unrecognizable...but on the inside...

he's just this...Frightened Little Animal. :(

who hurts you because he is scared you will reach for him, and when you put food in your palm, bites it because he's scared it's a trick.

aaaaaaaaaaaaah....idk he is my special little man.

okay, shutting the fuck up now HERE IS YOUR SNIPPET:

( edit: LAMBORGHINI MERCY, ITS LONG; LO SIENTO! )

GOOD LUCK, BAMBI. </3 ;-;

( just a...branch in my eye. ) i also was worried about the nicknames being a little too...'fem...inine-ish?' which, i glawhSSED on earlier, but wrote this little extra dialogue as an example using all the little satana stan nicknames ( aw ) because i am gonna be honest, it's gender neutral and not personal, he'd tell you, straight up -- my man always keeps it one-hunna and 100% kosh, ketzele; --

something like:

'ya can throw daisy chains ova a pile of cowshit aaaaaalll you want, masug; but no matta how ya dress it up, when alls said and done; and all those pretty flowers keel ova' and die...all your fine exteria design... fuck: what's cityslicka for 'useless, fancy schmanchy holy crappola' uhhh...your...dainty lil'tle 'floral achootrama' or whateva';

gesundheit.

...means fuck awhll in new jersey, 'cause the freakin' se-wer systems! ( manure, really ) like all the people, are all totally wasted, loaded and gunked-up with broken needles, instant spray tan and crushed up cred cans; wow, golly gee whiz, dory. so...you mean to tell me...my whole life...is all a buncha crud, huh?

o-oh, no, shit i might cr--

HA! gotcha, sensodyne! cause one man's trash...is another man's treasure...and you better get comfy and rest your goddamn laurels on a street corner where a prostitute isn't going to give you freakin' hepatisis mauling ya for struting your stuff on her turf...

cause this, outta townie...

— is your new home sweet home. ;)

...wonderful little joint, ain't it? you should see when it's all lit up with gang violence...that'll really jumpstart your heart, sug. it's, uh, kinda like fireworks...if they were fucking HORRIBLE and KILLED YA.

so...and i'll talk real slow, because i'm not sure i speak malibu freakin' barbie: h-e-r-e....in...hoebroken, ( that's where we are...in case you forgot, bamb; don't look so scared, honey; the junkies will only give ya little nibble; not too many teeth there otherwise. or, uh, oxygen flowin' to the ole cranium, they're basically harmless! uh...not him. staaaaaaaaaay, the hell away away from him, sug. aY, YOUSE! SNAP CRACKLE POP! KEEP YOUR FKN DISTANCE OR I'LL CAP YA BI--

basically; v.i.p., between you...and me, there's crap...on crap...on --wait! could it be--oh no, just more CRAP lined from the rock bottom of nj all the way up to the ny-sea to shining sea skyline ( might be our fault, but the fuckin' big city biddies and hoity-freakin-toitys out there can hoof it a little; by that, i mean horse shit; fuck 'em. uh, no offense, bam. ) i shot that one outta the park a little,

ball-point is:

it's backed allllll the way...TA HELL. which, might even be kinda, uh, nice...well, compared to this fuckin' trash compacta. so take a good, long, whiff sweetheart; ‘cause here? everybody's shit stinks...

— even yours, princess.

which—OOH.

es-Specially, yours.

ever heard of a shower? you r-e-e-k."

hEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP THATS MY BOOOOOOOOOOOYFRIEND! look at him!!!! I MISS HIM EVERYDAY; KYLEY 'IF YOU AIN'T MAKIN' MONEY, TAKE! YA! BROKE! ASS! OUTTA! HOE(BOKEN)! BEFORE I BREAK IT SOMEMORE, BREAK IT SOMEMORE...(B)-I T C H!"

like and suuuuuuUUubSCRRIIIBE~

-uncle nina, the gay kyley lGBea(t)in'theshitouttayaBETCH agenda

[loveisurvival]

im pretty sure i have a sayaka day drawing queued up that i made a VERY long time ago which i hate now and for some reason i'm too lazy to check when it'll be posted but in any case ignore it. i made it when i was ill

[anothermonikan]

Have I told you guys about the fucked up dreams I've been having recently? I've been having some fucked up dreams lately. yeah <3

[tariah23]

Wearing shorts to work…

[humblemediagenius]

nvm I'll write an essay now but in the tags because i like writing that way

[giantkillerjack]

Watching the Junji Ito Maniac episode "Mold", and as far as I can tell so far, it looks like it's based on the visceral terror of real life black mold taking over your house until you can afford to fix it or move

and frankly literally nothing else scary needs to happen this is the scariest story he's ever written

[almadelsur]

💋 The Secrets One Keeps

summary: You're in love with jj but he's with kie, so in moments of pure desperation you often find yourself turning to the person he hates the most...rafe

warnings: some good old angsty pining, very very slight smut if you squint, fem!reader, one or two uses of y/n, plz let me know if I missed anything

a/n: SHE'S BACKKKK, so I've decided to completely reformat and re-post this fic with a few tweaks and editing considering i first wrote this like 3 years ago, and yes for those of you who have been asking, I fully intend to finallly continue this fic....more info on that later ;)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

JJ’s eyes change the moment Kiara steps into any room. Immediately his presence is ripped away from your immediate atmosphere, popping the little bubble you'd spent all afternoon crafting as he sprung up to greet the olive-skinned enigma that captured his affections.

“Kie!” The joy in his tone was incomparable to anything he’d directed at anybody else. Nothing could draw out such happiness from the blonde. You hated that about her.

In an attempt at self-defense, your brain shut itself off. Shielding you from processing the scene in front of you, your emotions ran cold like cement pouring down and across your neurons. It was the only way you could survive such a beating to your heart.

You figured that by distancing yourself mentally, you wouldn’t have to raise suspicion and distance yourself physically. In reality, you knew the real reasoning was your inability to stay away from JJ but the facade helped you cope.

“Hey J” she embraced him and his body relaxed around her as if she was the only source of his happiness. The only way he’d find alleviation from what he perceived as a shitty life being through her. “Sorry I’m late my parents had me running like crazy at the wreck today.”

Scattered greetings filled the air from the rest of the pogues, yet you could only focus on the way his eyes fixated on her like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Here come sit baby” he offered her the seat he had just previously been place holding. What you thought had been quality time with your best friend, presented itself to you now as momentary attention to pass the time until his actual desire arrived.

Settling herself down and offering you a wide smile, her shoulder bumped against yours gently as a sign of acknowledgment.

“Hey dude” she directed at you, but you didn’t reply. You just couldn’t bring yourself to pretend. Not today anyway. Instead, you offered her a small smile, it was minimal but it was the best you could do under the circumstances.

“Yo" A crumpled tissue paper flew at your head, jj attempting to refocus your attention on him, "didn’t you say you were gonna get some water or something?” He spoke up, the scheme evident in his tone.

“um yeah I guess” You lifted yourself up and took a few steps before jj used the opportunity to slump himself down where you had been sat and sprawled his arms across his girlfriend’s shoulders.

“snooze ya loose sucker” he joked as he turned to Kiara to start up some mindless conversation. Leaving you behind in the dust.

Your teeth gritted as you focused on making your way to the kitchen hoping the distance from the scene unfolding would lift the iron grip on your heart.

You made the fatal mistake of glancing back and you were met with the image of jj nuzzling up to kiara in a picturesque display of love. The lump building at the base of your throat indicated that it was your time to get the hell out of there before you broke down in front of everyone. 

“Shit guys, y’know what I just realized I gotta go” You spoke quickly, your tone matching your pace as you rushed to the exit of the chateau. 

“You’re still coming to the party later though right?” John B asked, not tearing his eyes away from the screen in front of him. 

“Mhm yeah sure” you opened the door ready to depart. 

“Shit I forgot about that! Me and jj are gonna be late, we got dinner at the wreck tonight.” kiara added as you stepped out, unable to control the escape of a rogue tear.

“Date night babyyyy” You heard JJ cheer before you slammed the door behind you. 

“Is Y/N okay? She seemed a bit off.” Kie nudged JJ as she questioned. 

JJ furrowed his eyebrows momentarily. Glancing out the window, he saw you jog away from the house, and a brief flash of worry flashed through his mind. As quick as it came, it dissipated. He shook his head figuring that if there had been something wrong, he’d have been the first to know. 

“Nah she’s okay don't worry.” he offered to kie.

Boy was he mistaken. 

——————————————————————

“Fuuuck me” you moaned out, sinking into him one last time. You were hot, sweaty, and heaving as you pulled him out of you.

“I thought I just did” Rafe taunted leaning back to lie down, arms crossed behind his head causing his taut abdomen to flex.

You scrambled off the bed, picking up your garments and shoving them back on your body forcefully.

“What, no pillow talk?” He tried again.

“Rafe..” you trailed off. Whenever you’d finish fucking, you’d struggle to even look at him. The self-hatred flooded your body as soon as the orgasm poured out.

“Hey you called me” he eyed you intently but you knew he didn’t actually care. To rafe cameron everything was just a game. At this point it was pretty much common knowledge. “In fact” he moved closer to you so that he could speak directly into your ear “It’s always you that calls me.”

“Don’t be a dick” you stood up and eyed your heels contemplating whether you could face the walk back in them. “You know it makes me feel like shit.” It might have sounded brutal but that’s how things were with rafe.

“Yeah, it’s like you punctuate your orgasms with self-hate.”

“I'm a pogue, rafe.” You argued back as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“So? Kooks and pogues can fuck you know.” You couldn’t comprehend why you were even having this conversation. Why now, why tonight.

“Yeah maybe, not you though.” You didn’t want to tell him the reason explicitly.

“I fuck pogues.”

“You fuck anyone.” The words came out almost instantly and without thinking, yet rafe took no offense.

“Exactly so what’s the issue?”

“The issue is, rafe.” You paused trying to find the words without actually having to say the words. “The issue is that if my friends found out they’d hate me, probably more than I already hate myself.”

He just chuckled, the look in his eyes changing as he figured you out.

“What's funny?” You challenged.

“You don’t have to bullshit me princess.” He looked up at you with a devilish glint in his eye. “You just don’t want jj knowing about your little escapades huh?” Bingo.

“He’s with Kiara.” You shrugged him off.

“Uh huh, you like him but you can’t have him.” Every word he spoke striking a nerve deep within you. “So you’re fucking me to fuck him over.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You grabbed your heels and shoved them on, wincing as you buckled them up.

“Don’t I?” He threw his joggers on lazily as he stood, the level dynamics changing significantly. The older boy towered over you. “Where are they tonight?”

“Back at John B’s, we had a little get-together.” You crossed your arms. More often than not you usually called rafe after a few drinks left you feeling lonely. “Sorry, your invite must have gotten lost in the mail.” You attempted to jab at him with sarcasm yet he clearly held the upper hand with his line of questioning. 

“So all of them are there now?” He stepped towards you.

“Mhm,” You lied.

“Even jj?” Moving closer until your neck was craned upwards to meet his eyes.

Taking your silence as an answer, he reached up and ran his palms across your upper arms, prompting you to uncross them.

“He was uh- him and kie should be getting there soon” You mumbled.

“So would i be wrong in guessing, that might have prompted your call then?” You let yourself be guided by his movements leaning your neck further back as his hand trailed up to your jawbone.

“rafe…” you called out insignificantly.

He leaned in and pressed his lips against your neck, right over where he could feel your pulse, and pressed down.

You couldn’t help the gasp that left your mouth. Because as much as your heart belonged to jj, rafe was just so fucking good at raising your temperature.

“Round two?” He mumbled against your neck.

“Yeah..” you attempted yet it came out as a whisper. He grabbed you swiftly and lifted you, moving you across the room and throwing you down onto his bed, crawling on top of you in a predatory manner as he did so. As your back hit the bed, the ringing of your phone brought you back from the haze he had you under. 

“Wait rafe stop stop” you pushed him off and grabbed the screeching mobile, pressing it up to your ear. “Hello?”

“Dude, where are you?” The sound of jj’s voice came through over the pumping sound of music and party chatter. “Me and Kie just got back and John B says no one’s seen you for like over an hour.”

“Oh I’m uh, I had to go do something for my mom” The lie pouring out of your mouth caused rafe to chuckle which was of course met by a slap from you signaling for him to be quiet.

“Oh well, when are you getting back? I have to tell you about this date. You’re gonna be so proud of me I actually think I’m ready to tell Kie I love her” you screwed your eyes shut as he spoke.

“Yeah I- you know what I can’t make it back my mom needs me to stay and help out but uh I’ll see you tomorrow or something.” You hung up before he could even reply, throwing your phone down uncaring of its state.

“What’s wrong? They getting hitched?” Rafe spoke up from behind you.

You turned to Rafe, the fire in your veins pushing your arms to grab him, roughly pulling him back onto you.

“Just shut up and fuck me rafe.”

And fuck you he did.

——————————————���———————

The next morning you woke up to the sight of rafe’s bare back. Not much of a cuddler, you figured.

Quietly you pushed the covers off and began to dress yourself back up. As you got to your shoes you sighed and shook your head, as if there was any way in hell you were going to walk home in heels. You scooped up your shoes and your now-cracked phone shaking your head, slightly ashamed at your outburst.

Without even a second glance at the sleeping body you were leaving behind, you made your way over to the door. As you turned the knob and stepped out to leave, a husky voice spoke up.

“I’ll keep my ringer on for you babe.”

You rolled your eyes looking back at him, “Fuck you rafe.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m counting on.” He didn’t even open his eyes as he answered, instead just rustling around in the bed and turning to the other side, once again facing his back to you.

You scoffed as you exited. Your internal rant clouded your vision, body on autopilot with an excellent self-navigation of the Cameron house from the countless times you’d made this exit.

“Y/N?” The gentle voice wiped your thoughts clean as the shock stilled you dead in your tracks, slowly turning to come face to face with none other than Sarah.

“Sarah” you drawled out. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s my house?” Her head was cocked to the side, equally shocked to see you.

“No I just mean- I thought you were spending the night at John B’s.” You forced the small talk, avoiding the topic of why you were here, sneaking out at 8 in the morning.

“He had to work today, did you spend the night here?” She glanced up at the door of rafe’s bedroom.

“Umm-“ There had only been two other instances where you had been at a complete loss for words. The day jj told you he and Kiara were dating, the morning after your first sexual encounter with rafe, and now this.

“Are you sleeping with my brother?!” She whisper-shouted, eyes wide as the realization hit her. Busted.

“No?”

“Oh my god!” She grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you to her room, slamming the door as soon as you were both inside. “How long has this been going on?!” Her tone was loud and her hands wild as she interrogated you.

“Just a little under a year.” You sat on her bed and looked at your lap as you spoke. Reminiscent of a child being scolded.

“A year?! Oh my god!” She repeated. “Who knows about this?!”

With that, you looked up at her desperately. “No one. No one knows so please don’t tell them.” You didn’t have to name names for her to know who you were referring to.

“Are you two like” she paused “together?” She scrunched her nose up, disgusted at the thought of her bully of an older brother dating anyone.

“No god no. It’s just sex” you were just as uncomfortable as Sarah was, having to tell her about boning her older brother.

“Disgusting.” She turned away from you with her arms crossed, looking out the window.

“Look I’m not proud of it okay? Just-“ You sighed “Just please don’t tell anyone” pleading again.

Sarah let out a long sigh and uncrossed her arms. She walked over to you and joined you on the bed, her eyes showing concern mixed with something you couldn’t quite place your finger on.

“I thought you were into jj” she spoke softly, there it was. Pity.

“Yeah well, jj is with kie and instead of sitting around wallowing in self-pity, I decided to do something about it.” As the words left your mouth, you realized how weak the explanation was.

“So you just use rafe to bang the jj out of you.”

“It’s not like Rafe cares, if anything he’s also using me.” You tried to reason.

“I don’t doubt that. But I mean, that’s- It’s not healthy, you’ll never move on if you don’t actually process your emotio-“

“Look Sarah, I don’t need to do any of that shit okay? What I have here works, when I fu- when I’m with rafe, I don’t think about jj.” Tears began to swell in your eyes “Sleeping with rafe helps me forget about everything, even if it’s only for a little while he uh- he makes me feel good.” To an extent, there was truth behind your words, while you and rafe fucked the rest of the world went away. It was only after, that the crippling self-hatred hit you along with the return of your immense feelings for jj. 

Sarah shuffled over and threw her arm around you. “That’s not good for you, it’s just momentary. It’s easy and it's a cycle, you’re never going to get better going down this path. Especially not with rafe.”

“Rafe he’s- he’s not that bad.”

“Yes he is. But i bet it gives you satisfaction fucking him knowing jj hates him. Feels like revenge right?” She’d always been so perceptive your Sarah, you hated how she could see right through you.

Tears ran down your cheek silently. “You’re not gonna tell anyone right?” You sniffled.

She gave you one of those classic salt-of-the-earth Sarah Cameron smiles, the kinda smile that would light up any room she walked into. “Takin' it to the grave babe.”

A loud beeping caused both your heads to whip towards the window. “Shit, I completely forgot I was supposed to go on the HMS with pope and jj, we were gonna chill there until John B and Kie finished work.” She rose to her feet and extended an arm towards you. “Wanna come? Or we could drop you home if you’re not up for it.”

With a sigh you took her hand and pulled yourself up, walking beside her as you mentally prepped yourself to face the blonde you desperately pined for.

“Well rise and shine campers.” jj yelled out of the window of the drivers seat.

“Y/N! Where you been dude? you totally bailed last night.” Pope was next to speak as you and Sarah filed into the Twinkie. As JJ began to drive you avoided any form of eye contact in his general direction.

“I had to go help my mom out, blackout at mine again.” You didn’t even look at pope either, instead focusing your attention on the blur of trees and houses pacing by the window as JJ sped down the winding roads.

“Isn’t that what you were wearing last night?” pope, observant as always, pointed out.

“Uh yeah, I didn’t really get any time to change cause…”

“I called her last night when I got home, I was so drunk I don’t think I was ready to stop the party.” Sarah covered for you.

“Yeah I wrapped up helping my mom out and then this one calls me talkin bout a sleepover or something so I didn’t exactly have much time to change.” 

Thankfully pope had lost interest as soon as he had asked the question, otherwise, your overcompensating ass would have been caught out straight away. You always had to add to the lie until you felt like you had sold it completely.

Keeping your eyes trained on the outside meant that jj’s frown directed at you through the windscreen mirror went completely undetected. He always knew whenever there was something up with you and right there and then he knew something definitely was.

“Hey, you okay?” He didn’t need to address you explicitly for you to know he was talking to you.

“Yeah just tired.” You shrugged him off in an attempt to distance yourself from him yet again.

He knew you were lying but he didn’t understand why, you never lied to each other. Apart from John B, the pair of you were closer to each other than with anybody else in the group. You’d been best friends since kindergarten, and since then you’d sworn 3 things to each other.

1- You’d always share your snacks.

2-You’d always be best friends even if you argued.

 3- You would never ever lie or keep secrets from each other.

Of course, as the both of you grew older the rules became more and more lax. The snack sharing was limited only to when you felt nice enough and sometimes you’d go for days without making up if you had argued particularly badly. Having kept two friendship-breaking secrets from him, the childhood rules seemed pretty insignificant by now.

“Mhm,” he responded, flickering his eyes between you and the road. “Are we taking you home to change first?”

“Yeah, I don’t know if I’ll join you guys afterward though.” You chewed down on your nail anxiously as the tension from being in the same space as jj paired with the guilt from having fucked rafe prior, suffocated you.

JJ made a face as he focused on the road, something was wrong with you and he’d be dammed if he wasn’t going to put his everything into finding out what that was.

[classyrbf]

HE'S SUCH A (HOT) LOSER! — CHOSO KAMO

SYNOPSIS...nsfw and sfw headcanons about loser!choso bc I can’t get him out of my head after righting that drabble about him

INFO...loser!choso x fem!reader, socially awkward, virgin!choso, jerking off, virginity loss, sexual acts, creampie,

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

loser!choso who literally has no friends, is the epitome of socially awkward and always ends making the conversation weird when he opens his mouth

loser!choso who has never seen a woman naked in real life, he just goes on porn sites and jerks his dick until it feels like it’s about to fall off, cum painted on his toned stomach

loser!choso who has sex toys in his closet, fleshlights, pocket pussies, whatever you call them—he has at least two, one of them even vibrates

loser!choso who is (you guessed it) a total virgin, he’s never even gotten close enough to lose it, yet alone have his first kiss

loser!choso who is forced by yuji to go on a dating app and try to find a girlfriend, and he ends up matching with you

loser!choso who stays in his room, playing video games, or goes to the gym, otherwise the poor boy has no social life (like I said, he has no friends)

loser!choso who finally goes on his first date with you and he’s sweating, stumbling over his words because you’re smiling at him, grabbing his hand and making jokes all while looking like some sort of goddess. He was starting to wonder if he’s dreaming

loser!choso who is absolutely stunned when you express how cute you think he is, how nice his hair looks, and he doesn’t know how to react so he just stands there and smiles at you like a complete idiot

loser!choso who drives home after the date and he genuinely can’t wait to get home to jerk off to the thought of you, so he pulls into an empty parking and pulls his pants down right there, tip already leaking precum when he remembers the way your tits were popping out of you dress

loser!choso who thinks the date went horribly wrong until you’re texting him the next day, already planning the next time you meet up, weirdly inviting him over to your place

loser!choso who is obsessed with titties (clearly) no matter what size. He imagines himself getting a hold of pair and just grabbing them, sucking them, it turns him on so bad

loser!choso who thinks nothing of going over your house until he gets his one wish, getting a hold of your tits in his hands, and he’s star struck, just groping, squeezing and without thinking he’s sucking on them

loser!choso who ends up losing his virginity a few minutes later with you bouncing up and down on his cock, pussy gushing around him. He’s in literal heaven and can barely think, brain turned to mush

loser!choso who realizes real sex is better than porn fairly quickly, and lets just say he becomes more obsessed with you than ever cause it’s so much more intimate when you’re holding him, praising him, calling him a good boy

loser!choso who cums in your pussy so many times that night, and the aftermath leaves him stuck in the same spot on your bed while you cuddle up to him and tell him how much you like him even if you’ve only known him for two days

loser!choso who now has his first ever girlfriend, his first everything with you and he can’t wait to brag to yuji about it because you’re absolutely gorgeous

loser!choso who shows you off on his social media despite the twenty followers that he has, he just want to show off his girlfriend to whoever he can

loser!choso who gets weird stares in public from other men when he’s out with you because he knows you’re way out of his league, but just to make them jealous he grabs you and kisses you in front of them

loser!choso who doesn’t develop a sense of fashion until he meets you, going to countless stores as you pick out outfits that’ll look good on him, and he won’t lie, you’ve done a very good job because he’s gained much more confidence in himself

loser!choso who goes on and on about his special interests and you sit there smiling at him, listening intently. He’s lowkey a nerd but you love it

loser!choso who hangs with no one but you, missing you constantly and randomly showing up at your house when he feels like you’ve spent too much time apart

loser!choso who wants to learn how to pleasure you more so he looks up videos on how to eat pussy and watches all the porn he can to study their movements, but when he tells you, you just laugh and say how silly he is, showing him a hands on tutorial, instructing him on what to do and what you like

loser!choso who constantly asks if he made you cum, poor baby doesn’t want you to go around unsatisfied so he doesn’t everything in his power to make you feel good no matter what

loser!choso who is (obviously) the quiet type, so he studies what you like and what you do by watching you and when he grabs your exact fast food order without you saying anything, you’re standing there confused and he’s looking down at you like “what?”

loser!choso who has a glow up because of you, and girls that have rejected him come crawling back into his life not knowing about you, so he just hits them with the “my beautiful girl who I love very much does not like you talking to me bye” and blocks them

loser!choso who is actually very sweet despite his awkwardness, he might look stand offish in person and act weird around others, but when he’s comfortable with you hes a different person

loser!choso who gets you anything you ask for, spending countless amounts of money on you even if you don’t ask for it, he just loves you so much he wants to show his appreciation in every way whether that’s spoiling you or making you cum