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calummss · 1 year ago

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Sweet Ultraviolence | Klaus Mikaelson

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summary: it was no secret that klaus mikaelson felt for you, but you didn’t, maybe deep down but not enough. so how do you react when the nortorious serial killer gives you the most fucked up surprise?

pairing: fem! reader x klaus mikaelson

words: 4k

a/n: scene taken from the sexiest ahs scene ever. here’s a link !! probably my favourite klaus fic i have written. also smut!! i’ve written smut?? i’m not a smut writer so if it’s bad pretend it never happened….

‘Just because I agreed to this doesn’t mean it means anything.’

‘This date?’

‘Don’t call this a date.’

‘Why?’ Klaus asked,grabbing his wine glass, his gaze sitting on your frame as he sipped the red liquor. ‘We’re at my house, eating a lovely dinner with a beautiful girl. By my definition it is a date.’

‘Please,’ you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you felt the warmth of the fireplace hit your bare skin, engulfing you in a hug. ‘You are fully aware of why I am here so let’s not read something into this.’

Sitting at a table with Klaus Mikaelson was not as romantic as it sounded. The dark walls pushing in on you, a dark gaze staring at you, darkness that made up the house. Even the plate of meat, potatoes and vegetables seemed less appetising as they normally would. Maybe it was the blood seeping out of the flesh that made you feel agitated, maybe it was the notorious vampire serial killer that so desperately wanted you to be his.

‘Still,’ he paused for a second, ‘you came.’

You yourself took a sip of the white wine you had mixed with sparkling water, the subtle bitterness biting your tongue, the warm fuzzy feeling of the alcohol leaving a familiar taste of comfort.

‘Klaus, sometimes I think you are so delusional, like how are you functioning?’

‘I function just fine, love.’

‘Get me another one of these,’ you held up your glass, lifting it to your red painted lips to drown the last drop of its contents. ‘And maybe I’ll continue to act like I am loving this dinner date from hell.’ You gave him a wide grin displaying your obvious sarcasm.

Klaus smirked, his twisted smile making your stomach churn. This would be a lot easier if he weren’t attractive but of course the maniac looks like he was carved by Lucifer himself.

‘That’s a tempting offer.’

He barely lifted his hand signalling the compelled boy that he wanted something. ‘Another white wine with sparkling water for my ravishing date, Taylor.’

‘Wow,’ you jested in fake astonishment, ‘so intimidating. Raising your hand, getting whatever you want…do you enjoy it? Getting everything with the snap of your fingers.’

‘Why wouldn’t I?’

‘You compel people to do stuff for you. Don’t you want people to do things because they want to? Care for you?’

‘No one cares about me, love.’ He chuckles, ‘I’m the monster, remember?’

You didn’t reply. You stayed silent, staring at him being the only communication amongst the quiet room, only the cracking of burning wood to be heard. ‘Why do you like me?’ You shoved the potato around your plate, using it to smear the watered down blood across the porcelain.

‘What’s not to like?’ Klaus shrugged his shoulders, leaning back into the chair, the definition of his abs to see seen through the thin material of his shirt.

You looked up from your plate. ‘Just answer the question, please.’

‘You’re like a ray of sunshine on a bad day. When I’m near you I feel you good nature rub off on me—makes me want to stay close. You’re kind even if not to me, you treat everyone the same and give chances to people that probably don’t deserve them. You help when help is needed and disregard yourself for others. You’re beautiful. You smell good, and the fact that I cannot have you makes me want you even more.’

‘I’m not something you can own, Klaus,’

‘I can’t own you love, but I can own your heart if you let me.’

Again you stayed quiet, scared that if you speak he could hear the smitteness in your tone, knowing that for a second he had gotten under your skin.

‘Admit that you are drawn to darkness, Y/n,’ his eyes stared into the most inner part of your soul, ‘even the purest of heart are drawn to it.’

‘I never said I’m not, Klaus,’ you took a sip of wine. ‘I like darkness. The unknown, the excitement…Just because I don’t like your darkness Klaus doesn’t mean I’m denying my thoughts or feelings.’

‘Keep telling yourself that.’

‘You aggravate me.’ You downed the rest of your drink again, setting it down with a loud thud.

‘Makes you more attractive.’

‘Taylor?’ You smiled over at the boy Klaus had compelled for tonight’s dinner, that what you had hoped anyway, ‘Do you by chance have any earplugs, sweetheart?’

Taylor’s eyes grew wide, pressing his lips together as he turned his head towards Klaus for further instructions. Klaus felt his stare but continued to stare at you with a grin.

‘What are you staring at, Taylor? Get the lady some earplugs.’

Taylor left soon after, leaving the two of you alone which made you chuckle at Klaus who didn’t deny your request.

‘What?’ He asked plainly.

‘Nothing.’ You cut a piece of the steak and let the blood coat your tongue, continuing to feel his eyes linger on your for the rest of the night.

A week later and you were back at school. Vacation was over and reality hit. Thankfully you were seeing Mr. Saltzman today. A class you could pay a little less attention to since you sat in the back of the room, daydreaming away. You were too busy talking to friends that you didn’t realise a pair of eyes that stalked you from afar. Eyes watching your every move.

Finishing up the conversation you said your goodbyes to Dana and Heather and turned around to head towards the gym but when you took a step back you collided with a body making them stumble and spill their drink on the floor.

‘Oh my god, I am so sorry. Are you okay?’ You reach out to help Connor find his balance but he slapped away your arms, letting out a deep growl.

‘What is your fucking problem, bitch?!’

‘Excuse me?’ You drew your eyebrows together. It was clearly an accident. Why was he getting so worked up?

‘I said what is your problem?’ He came dangerously close.

‘Hey,’ his friend pulled him back, trying to reassure him that it was an honest accident.

‘You better apologise.’

‘I literally apologised, asshole. How about you pipe down on your ego and take a long second to reevaluate your life? Pathetic.’

Connor’s face turned red, his strength releasing him from his friends grip, his face too close to yours for your liking. ‘I’ve disliked you since I’ve known you, Y/n. Don’t give me more reasons to hate you.’

‘Get a life.’ You laughed out loud.

‘You better watch your back!’

‘Okay, Connor. Will do.’ You called after him as he left the scene,his head turning your way as you cleaned off the few drops of water that caught themselves on your fabric. Chuckling to yourself, you headed the way you were supposed to go and headed towards cheerleading practice, the anger giving you a surge of adrenaline that reassured you that you were going to nail the landing you had failed to complete for weeks.

Klaus had watched the scene from afar, his eyes trailing Connor as he walked past Klaus whose forehead creased, his eyes turning lifeless as he turned around and followed Connor to wherever it was he was heading to.

Practice was good and you were right; you managed to pull off the stunt earning you praise from the coach, letting you know that if you keep up the good work you will be the best cheerleader Mystic Falls ever had. You hated saying it but you lived off of praise. Was there a better feeling than being seen for your hard work and determination? Not really, but that was your opinion. You headed towards the locker room, your red cheer uniform starting to slowly take up some of the sweat from practice. It was late. Everyone went home instead of you. You wanted to perfect the new choreography and stayed long after practice ended. So when you entered the locker room it was dead silent. The squeaking of the locker made you flinch as you placed your water bottle into the side pocket of your bag. You were about to take out your bag to change when you heard the sound of droplets hitting the floor. Wet drops. Only then had you noticed that your feet were also wet. And it wasn’t sweat…it was too much for it to be just that… When you looked up to where the sound was coming from you froze. Staring up at the ceiling just above the lockers, the body of Connor hung from the wall. Broken arms and legs that were twisted inhumane. His intestines spilling from his torso, head hanging from his neck like it was about to fall off. His blood was dripping onto your locker, the smell of blood prominent and not something that could be ignored. As you stared up at him, taking in his lifeless body, a faint smile spread across your lips as you thought back on the scene earlier in the hallway.

‘You like my surprise?’ A voice sounded from behind you and you knew exactly who it was so you didn’t bother to turn around, too fascinated by the body hanging like a spider.

‘You did this?’

You heard his footsteps come closer, his heavy footsteps giving away his exact location whenever he moved, so much that after a few seconds you knew that he was standing right behind you, him too staring at the body.

‘I didn’t like how he talked to you or his lack of respect, his entitlement.’

You rubbed your lips against each other, turning around to slap Klaus across the face, feeling a painful sting across the palm of your hand, grabbing a handful of his shirt and getting up on the bench looking down at him. Vertical wrinkles appeared between his eyebrows, his eyes bigger than before. Fear. Fear that he had fucked up the last chance he had of being with you. Scared that you would never ever look at him again. Fear that he had lost you before he even had you.

You took your finger and slowly dragged it across his face, pulling down his bottom lips as you stared at him. ‘That is the most fucked up thing anyone has ever done for me,’ you stared into his eyes that were still wide, your lack of transparency making him feel sick. ‘That’s so hot.’ You dragged out, taking that fistful of his shirt and crashing your lips onto him, your hands roaming his hair, tugging as you felt him against you. His tongue running across your bottom lip, tasting what he had craved for so long. He continued to place wet kisses down your cleavage, continuing to kiss your legs, holding onto your ankle as he came face-to-face with the blood on your foot. Looking up through his lashes he saw you wipe away a single tear, inhaling the scent of blood before dragging his tongue across the top of your foot, licking the sweet taste of blood. Coming back up to kiss you again, you could feel his hot breath ricochet off your cheeks, his growling making your cunt ache from between your legs as he continued to kiss you.

‘I thought you hated violence.’ He breathed, allowing you to catch your breath.

‘I was wrong.’

‘Does that mean—‘

‘Shut up and kiss me.’

Klaus had never shut up so quickly, pressing his body against yours wanting to be one with you. Ripping off his shirt you felt him against your skin. His fingers curled around the hem of your panties, dragging them down your legs. You curled the finger around your top, ready to take it off but Klaus’ hands shot up to hold them still. ‘Don’t take it off. I want to fuck you in it.’

You suppress a moan as he lowered his head underneath your skirt, feeling his breath on the inside of your thighs, already making your legs tremble. You let out a quiet yelp as you felt his tongue licked your slit, closing his lips around your clit as he started to swirl his tongue around your cunt, sending vibrations through your stomach as you moaned. ‘Fuck,’ your hands grabbed his hair, trying to give yourself some stability. Klaus noticed your legs growing weaker. He picked you up with your legs over his shoulders and laid you down on the blood covered floor, feeling the blood go up your ass. Klaus continued to suck on your clit, concealed groans vibrating against your cunt, the knot in your stomach growing tighter as his tongue focused on your most sensitive spot. You could feel your thighs go numb from holding them up. Your breath becoming shorter the more Klaus dragged his tongue across your cunt, collecting your juices, making you realise you were about to come. You felt your muscles contract, your legs starting to shake as the knot tightened faster than it had ever before.

‘Fuck,’ you pressed air past your lips, ‘please don’t stop.’

Close to coming, Klaus gave one last suck before you felt your stomach explode, squirming underneath him as he continued to flick his tongue over your sensitive clit, making your body shudder with aftershocks.

‘Fuck Klaus, fuck fuck fuck.’

You felt Klaus press a kiss on your cunt before coming out from underneath your skirt, catching your lips so you could taste yoursef.

‘You like this don’t you?’

You nodded.

‘You like the way I touch you?’

You nodded again, feeling his hand make its way down to your cunt again.

‘Stop,’ you breathed, stopping his hand trailing down to your cunt that had craved his touch the moment he stared into your eyes. ‘Let me,’ You slowly dropped to your knees, blood staining them s you reached for his trousers, starting to unbuckle his belt, your fingers slipping off the buckle.

‘What are you doing?’ Klaus let out a suppressed smile, his head hanging low to see your hands undoing his belt, your lips caught between your teeth.

‘I want this.’

‘My cock?’

‘Yes.’ Another deep breath.

‘I thought you hadn't done this before?’

‘I haven’t.’ Having undone his buckle and strap, you grabbed his front pockets and pulled down the rough fabric, the bulge beneath his boxer meeting your eyes, a warm heat spreading through your legs. ‘But how do you know that?’

‘Watching you is my favourite pastime.’

‘You’re fucked up…’

‘So are you, love.’

Taking a gulp, you pulled down his boxers to release his cock that sprang against his stomach. Your breath caught your throat. It’s big. Klaus could feel his pre-cum pumping through him just thinking of your innocent lips tucked around the head of his tip. His chest swelled with air as he trailed his finger down to the base of his cock, twitching under his own touch. Your breath hitched, trying to get as much oxygen into your lungs, as you watched him come towards you, knowing that his size would make it hard to breathe. His hand stroked over his hardened shaft, collecting a small speck of pre-cum. You grabbed his thick pulsing length, a groan leaving his throat as your fingers wrapped around him. You leaned over, carefully licking his tip, slowly building your way to sucking on his head, spitting on it as you wet his pink cock.

‘Fuck,’ Klaus hissed, his dirty blond curls falling back as his hand tangled itself in your hair.

You gagged on his size, but you refused to let go of him, pushing his cock deeper into the back of your throat. Saliva filled your mouth as you focused, moaning against him as he gently started thrust in and out, not wanting to hurt you.

‘So, so eager for me, aren’t you?’ He groaned.

His hands found their way to your hair, pulling your head back, allowing him further access to your throat. A mixture of tears, saliva and cum dribbled from between your lips, but he didn’t seem to mind, deep groans continuing to escape his pink lips. The slight sound of you gagging letting his moans increase in sound.

‘Such a pretty face. Look at you.’ He glanced down, staring into your eyes. ‘You look so good taking my cock. Your first time having a cock down your throat and you’re doing so well.’

A pool of cum was now dripping below you. You couldn’t help it, you were so turned on. You needed him. You need him inside of you soon. Growling, he pushed the head of the shaft past your lips, hitting the back of your throat. Klaus tangled his fingers into your messy hair, eager to push in deeper. You swallowed around his throbbing length, earning a huffed moan. You continue stroking him, your hand gliding along his shaft, your own arousal starring to grow

‘You’re so fucking good at taking my cock,’ he thrusted in and out of my aching mouth. ‘Your first time and you already know how to send me over the edge.’

He pulled out his cock giving you time to breathe. You gasped out for air, before he slid back inside of you. Pre-cum was leaking from his tip, the salty taste mixing in with your own spit. You pulled in your lips around his cock, sucking harder, your tongue pressing up against the head and circling around it. Your lips and throat we’re starting to turn numb, every thrust releasing a tear, every salty tear mixing with the shaft.

‘Look at me,’

Your eyes shot up and stared into his.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck.’ He moaned loudly before releasing into your mouth; hot jets hitting the back of your throat. ‘Be a doll and swallow.’ He worked hard to suppress a moan, jerking himself through his orgasm. Both of your chests were heavy—you had almost forgotten what breathing felt like. He huffed and dragged his fingers across your face, stroking your cheeks as he stared at you with sparks in his eyes. ‘You did so well, my love.’

Carefully grabbing you by your throat, Klaus pulled you up and swiftly turned you around, his hard cock pressing up against your firm ass as his hands glided over your tits, smearing the blood across your uniform and cleavage; drops of blood running down your chest as you placed your arms behind your head as Klaus started to place kisses again the thin skin on your neck, gently sucking on it, making the hairs on your body stand up.

‘God, you’re so fucking hot.’

You hummed in response, his mouth on your neck making it hard to concentrate.

Klaus brushed the tip of his cock against your slit, teasing you as his moved it along your cunt, adoring the way you whimpered at his slightest touch.

‘I thought you were a gentleman and wouldn’t fuck a girl so shortly after the first dinner.’

‘I’m not a gentleman tonight, my love. You make it hard to control myself,’ Klaus whispered in your ear, sending a chill down your spine that stopped before it reached your toes as he thrusted into your core making you shout out.

‘Oh my god, Klaus. Fuck you feel so fucking good.’

His cock stretched out the walls of your cunt that welcomed him, each thrust slowly adjusting to his size. His lips kept him busy at your neck and collar, leaving trails of dark marks. Hickeys or blood, it was hard to tell. You could feel the blood slowly dry out on your skin, but new blood spread across your body as Connor’s blood continued to seep out of him, letting you and Klaus be covered in his surprise. He began to pump his cock out of you with pace. Your hands grasped his wrist, nails digging into his skin, asking for more. Throwing your head back onto his chest as one hand wrapped around your throat, the other holding your waist.

‘Not satisfied darling?' He smirked against your skin, picking up pace as he pounded into you. Your tits moving with every thrust, the sound of skin filling the locker room.

‘You're so fucking tight.’ He grunted into your neck. 'It's like you were made to take my cock. Look at you, taking my cock like the good girl you are. Who would’ve thought you were so sick and twisted?’ You felt a new bundle tighten in your stomach. ‘Fucking in a school locker room covered in blood. God made me immortal because you are my match. Fuck, you feel so good.’

Those words felt like fireworks exploding inside of your gut.

‘Shit!’ You cried out in ecstasy, as he pulled you into a climax, sending your body over the edge. He kept on thrusting, overstimulating you, until moments later, he reached his high as well, and filled you up with his cum. Klaus stayed inside of you for a few seconds, breathing heavily as a sweat pearl rolled down his forehead, holding you tight in case your legs were to give in.

‘Your body was made for me.’ He huffed. Klaus slid his cock out of you, staring at you, slowly lowering you to the red messy floor, setting you down before laying down next to you, holding his head up with the palm of his hand.

You took a few seconds to breathe, catching your breath as your high started to fade, catching a glimpse of the body up high. ‘You can’t leave that there. I’ve got class at seven in the morning.’ You mused, gazing at Klaus who had blood spread across his chest. He looked so hot you could fuck him again.

‘Don’t worry, love,’ he reached for the bag behind him. ‘I know how to clean up messes. I’ve done this for over a thousand years.’ He placed a cigarette between lips, pulling out a lighter and taking a drag of the hot smoke. He truly was irresistible.

‘Have you killed a lot of people?’

‘Yes.’

You grabbed a knife that laid behind your back, the knife Klaus probably used to cut certain parts of Connor. ‘Would you kill me?’

Klaus took another drag over the cigarette, the smoke making his voice sound deeper than it was. ‘No.’ He shook his head.

‘Would you kill for me?’

Klaus stared up at Connor pointing at him, ‘You have to ask?’

‘There’s this guy, Dean Gabriel. He took away the only person I ever loved.’ You said, staring at the knife, feeling Klaus prop himself up. ‘He violated my sister. Made her feel disgusted, defiled her without her consent. She took her own life because that man ruined her life in twenty minutes. And whilst she is no longer here, he gets to roam around like nothing happened…’

Klaus leaned forward, his voice sounding huskier, ‘Just tell me where he is and he won’t see any more sunrises after I find him.’

Gazing at the knife, you swung your leg over Klaus to straddle him.

‘Promise me he’ll suffer.’ A tear fell down the apple of your cheeks, ‘I want it to be painful.’

‘I promise.’

You lowered yourself to kiss him, your tears mixing with the blood on your face as your heart was finally lighter than it had been for a while. All because of a surprise you enjoyed more than he had anticipated.

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pnutbutter-n-j-elyy · 8 days ago

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P.S. Do You Still Love Me

Han Jisung x Fem!Reader

Pt2

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ

Introduction: Dear Y/N.

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ

The apartment felt different when you walk in. It was quieter- like everything was holding its breath. Not how it usually felt when you walked into Jisung and Minho's shared home. You dropped your bag by the door, kicking off your shoes, and putting on the fuzzy slippers Jisung had bought you, and almost immediately spot Jisung standing by the window. It was raining when you arrived, the raindrops banging on the window like 1000 tiny fists. He had his back to you, staring out at the street below, and he didn’t turn around when you called his name. But even so you could already imagine the somber expression he was wearing.

You loved Jisung so much it was almost as if you knew him better than himself. You could sense when he was sad, angry, bitter. You didn't often need for him to enunciate his feelings, since more often then not you could tell by the brightness in his eyes, or the turn of his lips.

“Jisung?” you said again, a little louder, your voice soft still. He still didn’t move. The way he stood- rigid, with his hands shoved deep in his hoodie pockets -made your stomach twist. Something was upsetting him deeply, and it hurt you that you didn't know what was wrong. You took a step closer, your heart squeezing slightly because you were feeling a distance between you like a wall you couldn't see.

A distance that there never was before.

“Do you wanna talk?” There’s a tiny crack in your voice, and you hated it. He usually answered right away, always turning to you with an easy smile that made you feel like everything was going to be okay. His chubby cheeks squished into a sign that told you that you were worried for nothing. But now? Nothing. Just silence.

He finally moved, just a little, but it was enough to make your heart drop in anxiety. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rough. Like he'd been crying. “We need to talk.” There’s no warmth in it. It was robotic.

He doesn’t look at you, and every second of silence was like a weight pressing down on your chest.

You tried to smile, to make things feel normal, but it was like he was somewhere else entirely. “Okay,” you responded, sitting down on the couch. Your hands were shaking, so you tucked them under your legs. Scratching the surface of the couch cushion below you, hoping Jisung didn't see how anxious his mood was making you. You didn't want him to worry about you. “What’s going on?” Your legs shook slightly as well, and you mentally cursed yourself, because you knew Jisung would easily be able to tell how much this troubled you.

You had been drawn to Jisung since it seemed like he was the only one who brought you peace. You didn't think love was something that just amounted to the feeling of butterflies- rather you felt love went even deeper than that. That your soulmate was someone you could feel butterflies and complete peace with simultaneously.

He's still stared out the window, his face turned away, and you couldn’t tell if he was trying to find the words or if he was just avoiding the question altogether. “I… I can’t do this anymore,” he blurted suddenly. His voice was so flat, so empty, and it took you a second to even process what he meant.

“W-What?” You blinked, feeling the ground drop out from under you. “What do you mean, Sungie?”

He wasn't looking at you. You didn’t think he was even really there, in the moment. He just took a deep breath and kept going like he had rehearsed these words a million times in his head. “I can’t be in this relationship anymore,” he said, and it was like he was talking to the wall, not you.

You felt like you were stuck in a bad dream, like everything was happening in slow motion. “Jisung, don’t say that,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice steady even though you felt yourself breaking inside. “We can fix this. Whatever’s wrong, we can fix it.”

He shook his head, finally turning around, but refusing to meet your eyes. His head is faced downwards, and you could see the small tufts of curl in his straight hair. You couldn't help but internally smile at the cuteness, knowing the boys must have recorded something today, and his hair must have fallen back to being flat right as he stepped into the humid air. “No, we can’t.” His voice cracked, and he looked up for a moment. And for just a second, you thought you saw something in his expression- a flicker of regret, maybe, or guilt. But it was gone as soon as it was there.

“Why?” you questioned, tears starting to blur your vision. You stood up and reached for him, desperate, but he stepped back before you could even come close to touching him. “Is there someone else?” Your voice was eerily calm as you voiced the question, tucking your hands behind your back meekly, as if you were so willing to accept the fact there could be another person he was seeing.

So calm that your reaction hurt Jisung.

The question hung in the air for a split second, and you saw his whole body tense up. His eyes went wide, and he finally looked at you fully, panic flashing across his face. “No,” he shot, too quickly. “There’s no one else.”

How could she think there was another? How could she think I'd find someone to replace her- how could she seem okay with the thought of that-?

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek to stop it from trembling. You didn't believe him, but you didn’t push. You didn’t want to make this any harder than it already was.

“Okay,” you whispered, forcing a tiny smile even though you felt like you were dying. “If that’s what you want.” Your voice was sad, but accepting. As if this was always meant to be.

And Jisung knew you were holding back an onslaught of tears. And he selfishly prayed you wouldn't begin to cry, because his resolve would break in an instant.

He would take back the words he so desperately needed to take back- but so desperately needed to say. For you.

It was all for you. Always.

This. This was what was best.

His face crumpled for just a second, but then he turned away again, shoulders hunched. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, and you could barely hear his weak apology.

“Jisung,” you say, and your voice cracks. He still wouldn't look at you, and you hated it- you hated that he couldn’t even face you when he was ripping your heart out and stomping on it. “I know I said okay, but I lied." You whimpered. "Don’t do this. Please. I-I can change whatever you need me to change...I'll do better...if I did something wrong I can fix it. I just love you-"

He just shook his head, biting his lip so hard you thought he might draw blood. You wanted to reach out and ask if he was okay, baby him, like you always did- shower him with love and affection like it was your job- but you held back when you saw the resigned look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, and it sounds like he’s saying it more to himself than to you.

You don’t know what else to say. You don’t even know if there’s anything left to say. So you just stood there, feeling your eyes burn with unshed tears, watching him retreat further and further away from you. “Goodbye, Jisung,” you said quietly, and the word felt like it’s tearing you in two.

He didn’t answer.

He couldn't. He didn't have the willpower to look at the heartbreak on your face and go through with the breakup. So instead, he faced away from you, so he didn't have the chance to open his mouth and say those three words that meant everything and more.

You turned to leave before you could change your mind as well- change your mind and decide to throw yourself at him and beg him to truly reconsider.

But you wouldnt. If this was what he wanted than you would do that for him. You loved him enough to let him go.

Because that's what love was, wasn't it? Doing something to ensure your partner's wellbeing; even if it hurt you. You let the door close behind you with a dull thud that echoes in the silence.

"I love you, Jisung." You murmured one more time before you left. "Always."

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ

Three Months Later

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ

The studio was dim, wrapped in shadows from the soft glow of LED lights that hung loosely from the walls. Jisung was laid out on the small, threadbare couch in the corner, staring blankly at the ceiling. His eyes were red and swollen, dried tears staining his cheeks. The headphones were still on his ears, but whatever music he had been listening to had long since stopped. Crumpled sheets of paper littered the floor around him, and an empty soju bottle was tipped on its side near the foot of the couch.

Minho stood in the doorway, his fingers resting lightly on the doorframe, watching the familiar scene play out yet again. Jisung seemed smaller than he remembered, fragile and almost swallowed by the darkness of the room. It pulled him back to that night three months ago- the beginning of it all -when he had first noticed just how far his friend was falling apart.

He remembered those late hours at the dorm, the way Jisung’s muffled sobs had carried through the thin walls, even when the rest of the world was silent. Minho had pushed open the door to Jisung’s room with the softest of creaks, careful not to startle him. Jisung had been at his desk, hunched over with his head buried in his arms, shoulders shaking uncontrollably. A cheap pen, the same kind you used to buy for him, was clutched tightly in his fist as he scrawled furiously across a page already smeared with ink and tears. It felt like hours before Jisung even looked up, and when he did, his face was a mix of pain and exhaustion.

Minho had watched in silence as Jisung tore the page from the notebook, crumpled it into a ball, and shoved it into a shoebox he kept under his bed countless times again and again. He had shoved it so forcefully, as if he couldn’t stand the sight of his own words. The box was already overflowing, stuffed with letters and notes that Minho knew were never meant to be sent. He knew they were for you. There wasn't anyone else Jisung would have been writing to. Back then, he hadn’t had the courage to step in.

Back then he just stood there, leaning against the doorframe, his chest aching with the weight of his friend’s grief. It had been different that night- worse. Jisung had retreated so deeply into himself that it felt like there was no reaching him, no matter what Minho said or did.

To be honest, he didn't think it could get this bad. He saw the breakup as something Jisung would have gotten over. He was the one who had initiated it, so it didn't make sense in Minho's head that Jisung beat himself up so much about it.

But now, months later, it was all somehow worse. Jisung’s pain had only grown, festering in the silence of the studio where he spent almost every night. He didn't even bring himself to go home back to their shared dorm. Minho often had to bring him clothes to change into. The emptiness in his eyes haunted Minho, who could only watch from a distance, helpless to drag his friend back to the light.

Wishing he would have tried to earlier.

The floor behind him creaked, and Minho turned to see Chan slipping quietly into the room. He moved with careful steps, scanning the scattered papers and the mess that surrounded Jisung’s still figure.

“He’s still here,” Chan murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. There was a heaviness to his words, an exhaustion that made Minho’s chest tighten. It was as if the two were parents, watching their child go into a downhill spiral.

Chan bent down to pick up a few of the discarded papers, smoothing them out and stacking them on the desk, but he didn’t dare look at Jisung. There was a sense of grief in the room, a weight that neither of them could lift no matter how much they wanted to.

Minho’s eyes flickered to the shoebox half-hidden under a jacket by his desk, remembering how Jisung’s face had looked that night when he had first shoved a crumpled letter inside. It was the same look he had now, lying on that couch with his eyes shut tight, pretending he was anywhere else but here.

Chan stood for a moment longer, looking around the studio as if searching for some sign that Jisung was still truly there. His gaze fell on Jisung’s limp figure, his breath hitching when he saw how gaunt and hollow his friend looked- like a ghost of the bright, energetic boy he used to be. He set the papers down gently, the small gesture feeling almost pointless in the chaos that had become Jisung’s world.

With a glance, Chan’s eyes met Minho’s, and they both shared a silent understanding. They knew they couldn’t force Jisung to talk, couldn’t drag the truth out of him. He had walled himself off, a prisoner to his own pain, and all they could do was wait and hope he’d eventually come back to them.

Minho moved first, stepping deeper into the room and kneeling down by the edge of the couch. Jisung didn’t stir- his chest rose and fell with the rhythm of shallow breaths, but there was no sign of life behind his closed eyelids. Minho reached out, hesitating for a moment before resting his hand gently on Jisung’s shoulder. He was shocked by how bony it felt, how the muscle had wasted away over the past months, leaving behind only shadows of the person he once knew. It was to the point even Stay's were commenting on his figure- someone so thin to begin with thinning even more was enough to cause panic.

No one outside the group and management had ever known Jisung was in a relationship. Many speculated since during that year and a half, Jisung's smile was brighter, wider, and he was glowing in a happiness that only love could bring. But it was never confirmed, and looking at the young boy now, maybe that was for the better.

"Jisung-ah," Minho said softly, his voice strained. He was certain Jisung could hear him- he wasn’t asleep. But he didn’t move, didn’t open his eyes or acknowledge that anyone was there.

Chan shifted his weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortable with the silence. He walked back over to the cluttered desk, where Jisung’s laptop was half-buried under more crumpled notes and empty snack wrappers. Gently, he started to tidy up the area, as if restoring order to the mess might somehow reach the member who held a special place in his heart, might bring a sliver of clarity back to him. But it felt futile, and everyone knew it.

"How long has it been?" Chan finally asked, his voice low and hoarse.

Minho’s hand dropped from Jisung’s shoulder as he stood back up, his eyes never leaving the boy he once thought capable of healing. "Three months." Minho said, the words tasting bitter and hollow in his mouth.

In that time, Jisung had become a stranger even to his closest friends. He had cut himself off from everyone, burying himself in his work, hiding behind the four walls of the studio where he thought no one could see his pain. But the members all saw it- very bit of it -and it broke their hearts.

Chan let out a heavy sigh and leaned back against the desk, his hands gripping the edge. "He can’t go on like this," he muttered, almost to himself. "This…whatever this is, it’s going to destroy him."

Minho swallowed hard, his eyes blurring with unshed tears. He knew Chan was right. Jisung was spiraling- sinking deeper with every passing day, and no matter how much they tried to pull him back, he only drifted further away. It was heartbreaking- something that was worthy of Minho shedding tears for.

"He’s already gone," Minho said quietly, the words a painful admission. Jisung had given up, had let himself disappear in the darkness of his own making. There were moments- brief flashes -where it seemed like he might return, but they were always fleeting, always lost before they could hold on.

"Do you think she still…?" Chan trailed off, his voice breaking, unable to finish the question. But Minho knew what he was asking -if you still loved him, if there was even a chance that you could bring him back.

"I don’t know," Minho said, his voice rough. He wished he had the answer, wished he could offer some kind of hope. But you were gone, and Jisung was the one who had pushed you away.

From the couch, there was a slight movement—so subtle that they almost missed it. Jisung’s fingers twitched, curling tighter around the hem of his hoodie, and his lips parted as if he were about to say something. But the words never came.

Chan’s eyes drifted to the shoebox again, his expression softening. He had seen it before- had noticed it every time he visited Jisung’s dorm, but he never asked about it, never dared to touch it. It was Jisung’s secret, and they had all learned to respect the invisible boundary that surrounded him. But there were moments when he wondered what was inside, wondered if the letters were the only things keeping Jisung tethered to the world. Wondering what the content of the letters to who he assumed was you were. Maybe they held the answer on how to help him.

But he wouldn't cross that boundary.

The studio fell back into silence, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning and the soft shuffling of papers. The weight of Jisung’s grief filled the space between them, thick and suffocating. Minho wanted to reach for him again, to shake him, to do anything to break through the barrier that had built up between them, but he knew it wouldn’t help. Jisung had made his choice, had let go of the one person who might have saved him, and now he was paying the price.

With a heavy sigh, Chan crossed the room and sank down onto the floor next to the couch, his head thudding back against the wall, the dull sound filling the silence as he closed his eyes. He didn’t want to ask the question that had haunted all of them for months, but he couldn’t stop himself. It was eating away at them- the mystery of why Jisung had let you go, why he had suddenly decided to end the relationship that everyone thought was perfect.

It didn’t make sense, not to anyone who had seen the way you and Jisung had looked at each other, not to anyone who had heard the way he used to talk about you like you were the best thing that had ever happened to him.

"Why did you do it, Jisung?" Chan finally asked softly, barely above a whisper. "Why did you let her go when it's so obvious you love her?"

Minho tensed beside him, his eyes flickering to Jisung’s face as if expecting some kind of reaction, some flicker of emotion, but there was nothing. Jisung lay still, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, his face blank. For a moment, it seemed like he wouldn’t answer, like he would keep pretending he was asleep, keep hiding in whatever world he had retreated to. But then, his lips parted, and his voice came out hoarse and cracked, like it hurt to even form the words.

"I don’t know," he said, his voice barely more than a breath. "I don’t know why."

Chan’s brow furrowed, frustration building inside him. That wasn’t an answer- not really. He wanted to shake Jisung, to demand the truth, to understand what had happened. It didn’t make sense, not when he remembered the way Jisung’s eyes used to light up every time he saw you, not when he remembered the way you used to make him laugh like no one else could.

"You don’t just end a relationship for no reason," Chan pressed, his voice firmer now, tinged with a note of desperation. "There has to be a reason, Jisung. What happened? Did something happen between you two?"

Minho shifted uncomfortably beside him, his hand moving to grip Jisung’s wrist, a silent plea for him to open up. Jisung flinched at the touch, pulling away, his eyes squeezing shut as if he could shut out the world, shut out the questions, the guilt, the pain that had consumed him for months. He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he forced out the only words he could manage.

"It was better this way," he said, his voice breaking. "She… she deserved better than me."

Minho’s grip tightened, his knuckles turning white. He wanted to scream at Jisung, to tell him he was an idiot, that he had made the biggest mistake of his life, but he couldn’t. Because he could see it now- he could see the self-loathing that had twisted itself around Jisung’s heart, the fear that had driven him to push you away. It wasn’t about you, not really. It was about him- about his own insecurities, his own doubts, the belief that he wasn’t enough.

But that didn’t make it any easier to hear.

Before Chan could respond, the studio door opened again, and Felix poked his head inside, his expression wary. He had heard their voices from the hallway, had felt the tension in the air as soon as he stepped into the building.

Felix stepped inside, his footsteps hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he was welcome. He glanced at Jisung, at the crumpled figure on the couch, and his heart twisted painfully in his chest. It was hard to reconcile the boy lying there now with the Jisung he used to know- the Jisung who had been so full of life, so full of love.

"I saw her you know," Felix said quietly, his voice trembling. "A few days ago. She asked if you were okay...she still watches the lives and our promos...she said you...you look sad."

Jisung’s entire body tensed, his fingers clenching around the edge of the couch cushion. He didn’t open his eyes, didn’t move, but they all saw the way his breathing hitched, the way his throat worked as he fought back whatever emotion had risen inside him.

"I didn’t tell her anything," Felix continued, his voice gentle, almost apologetic. "I didn’t know what to say. She sounded…worried. Like she still cared."

Minho’s jaw tightened, his gaze never leaving Jisung’s face. He had seen you a few times since the breakup as well and had seen the way your smile never quite reached your eyes, the way you always seemed a little lost, a little broken even when surrounded by people. It had hurt to see you like that, to know that Jisung was the reason, to know that he had done this to you.

"She still loves you," Minho said quietly, the words hanging heavy in the air. "You know that, right? Even after everything, she still-"

"Don’t," Jisung cut him off, his voice raw and desperate. His eyes snapped open, and for the first time in months, he looked alive—angry, hurting, and alive. "Don’t say that. I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve her love. I don’t… I can’t… just don’t."

"Hyung." Felix pleaded. "You're scaring us."

Chan felt his chest tighten, his heart breaking for his friends- his family- but especially for the boy who had loved too much and not enough all at once. He had known Jisung for years- had seen him through every high and low, every joy and sorrow, but he had never seen him like this. He had never seen him so utterly defeated, so lost in his own grief that he couldn’t even see the way out.

Felix’s eyes were wide, glassy with unshed tears. He wanted to reach out, to comfort Jisung, to tell him that it was okay, that they would get through this together. But the words felt empty, meaningless in the face of Jisung’s pain. Instead, he just sat down on the floor beside Chan, his presence a quiet support, a reminder that he wasn’t alone—even if he felt like he was.

"I wish you’d talk to her," Chan said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just once. I think it might help."

Jisung shook his head violently, his eyes squeezing shut again. "I can’t. I can’t face her. I don’t…I don’t want her to see me like this."

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on them all. They didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to pull Jisung out of the pit he had thrown himself into. They could only watch, helpless, as he tore himself apart piece by piece, as he punished himself for a mistake he couldn’t undo.

"She deserved better," Jisung said, his voice breaking, his body curling in on itself like he was trying to disappear. "She deserved someone who could make her happy, who wouldn’t let her down. And I…I’m not that person. I’ll never be that person."

Felix’s breath hitched, his eyes welling with tears and a frustration he couldn’t hold back anymore.

"That's bullshit! How could you even...think something so- so...fucking idiotic!" He said struggling to find his words. His lips trmebled and then he began to cry. "You're an idiot Hyung!" He let out, not knowing how to properly voice his frustrations of seeing someone he cared for deeply ruinging himself. "The other members think it to." He snapped softly, rushing out of the room, Chan follwing to make sure he was okay, leaving Minho behind with Jisung.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against Jisung’s knee in a silent plea for him to stop, to stop hating himself, to stop pushing them all away. But Jisung didn’t react. He just lay there, eyes unfocused, lost in a world they couldn’t reach.

Minho swallowed hard, forcing back the tears that burned at the back of his throat. He wanted to tell Jisung that he was wrong, that he deserved to be loved, that he deserved happiness just as much as anyone else. And that you were what was best for him, that he shouldn't feel this way. But he knew it wouldn’t make a difference. No chance.

So all he could do was sit with him in the darkness, hoping that someday, somehow, he would find his way back to the light.

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

@night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ

#skz imagines #skz x reader #skz stay #stray kids #skz reactions #stray kids reactions #skz angst #skz #han jisung angst #han angst #han jisung

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1bobairis · 6 months ago

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g!p bully Karina x reader (non / dub con??)

FIRST POST SO DONT MIND THE ERRORS

For as long as you could remember, Karina was your biggest enemy. She wasn’t just any normal student, she had been making your life a living hell ever since you started school. Your friend had suggested getting a girlfriend so she could protect from Karina, so you did. Her name was Giselle, and she was the best thing you could ever ask for, she was sweet, loving, and cared for you. Of course, Karina wasn’t happy about this, you knew since she stuck a bunch of gum your locker, but since you had Giselle now, you weren’t scared anymore.

“We should get revenge on Karina, how abt we fill her locker with dildos and get her in trouble?” Your eyes widened at Giselle’s suggestion, any kind of sex toy was strictly forbidden in your school, so it was perfect. “You know, I heard a rumor that the bigger the dildos, the bigger trouble you’ll be in.” You replied, Giselle laughed. That night, you and Giselle had ordered a bunch of 14 - 15 inches dildos off Amazon and put them in Karina’s locker the next morning. Unfortunately, you both had forgotten how powerful Karina was, she stole Giselle’s phone and texted you to meet her up to the 3rd floor girls bathroom. The 3rd floor girls bathroom was mainly known for hookups, and it was soundproof so no one ever went in there. You and Giselle never had sex before, you thought it was strange. But you had loved Giselle so much you were willing to do it with her for your first time. You saw Karina’s text from Giselle’s phone and went there afterschool, “Hello?” You called out in the bathroom.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed you, and soon enough, you were pinned to the wall, “You think you’re funny by filling my locker up with dildos? You need to be taught a lesson you little bitch.” Karina was strong, she had muscles and everything. Before you realized it, you were pinned to the wall with all your clothes off. “Karina..?! Let me go you psycho!” You tried screaming but it was no use. You looked over your shoulder, you realized she had a dick, but it was too late now.

Karina thrusted into you, hard. She went faster and faster, her moans filled your ears. You wanted her to stop, but her moans said other wise. Your mind was so fuzzy you didn’t even realize she finished inside of you. You expected her to pull out, but she just kept thrusting again and again.

*20 minutes later*

“P - please stop Karina-“ you were cut off and she thrusted harder. “I’m not done with you yet, slut. Since you wanna play with dildos so bad, I’ll fuck you in every single one. You’re not leaving this bathroom until this floor is white.” Before you could protest, your eyes rolled back as she pushed one of the dildos in, you hadn’t notice Giselle was spamming your phone, or that Karina was recording this whole time. Let’s just say, you didn’t leave that bathroom until midnight.

PART 2?? SRRY IF ITS SO BAD

#karina #g!p #non con #gxg smut #giselle #bathroom

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xchxsex · 8 months ago

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A Night In: Mark Hoffman fic

Warning: SEVERE breeding kink like its bad and im mentally ill, mentions of pregnancy, alcohol use, praise, degradation, rough sex, oral (f and m), slapping, squirting, cervix kisses, just some rough shiz

A night in is what got me here. Normally on a Saturday night, i would be out on the town with friends, but ever since i met Detective Mark Hoffman, a night out doesn’t give as much of a thrill as just being around him. His unpredictability keeps me on edge, gives me a rush of something I haven’t felt from any man.

When i first saw him, i hate to admit that it was his cockiness that drew me to him. The way he pranced around with a “fuck you and everyone around you” type of vibe.

I started to fall for him when one night alone, we were talking and then he did something I didn’t expect: he smiled. I felt my face heat just at the sight of it.

Ever since then I’ve been attracted to him, not knowing how to deal with these feelings. The thoughts keep me up at night. The idea of what he might look like under that blazer and baggy shirt. I know just from looking at him, he has that perfect dad bod that i long to rub my hands against.

I haven’t, but after i invited him over one night to help with cases, after he took one look at me and connected our lips. Ive had him ever since. Tonight is no different.

After having a few drinks, laughing at all the dumb shit we see around the station, it doesn’t take much to get us a little reckless.

Soon, he’s grabbing onto me, throwing me over his shoulder and taking me to his bedroom.

Tossing me on the bed, his hands are already ravaging my body, fumbling every piece of clothing on me. It’s mirroring the first time we had sex: after our kiss, he took my body exactly how he wanted to. Telling me to shut up and take it, telling me how long he’s thought of having me.

I smell the alcohol on his breath and taste it on his tongue. He practically tears the clothes off my body until I’m bare, pinned under his wide stature.

His mouth and tongue attack my chest and stomach, leaving dark bruises behind. He bites my nipple between his teeth and i wince. I reach out blindly and tug at his clothes.

“God take your fucking clothes off already!,” i groan.

My body aches for his skin against mine. I beg to kiss and lick all over his firm chest and soft stomach. That was the first thing i noticed when he took control over my body. His big tanned body, light chest hair, his wide arms. And the way it tasted, the sheer sweat that dampened his skin, the smell of his cologne mixing with it. Ugh, it was everything i could have imagined.

When i get his shirt off, busting a few buttons along the way, my hands connect to his body like metal and a magnet. I squeeze all the desired parts of him, dragging my nails gently down his chest and stomach.

“God i fucking love your body… want your stomach resting on mine when you fuck me,” i beg.

And thats what happened last time. I never expected a man with a larger gut to turn me on, but the way it made a perfect seat for me on his hips definitely changed my mind. Not being able to watch his cock slide out of me somehow made me feel it more. And fuck, the way his body cupped mine, rubbing my clit with each thrust effortlessly.

“Never had a chick tell me that before sweetheart.”

He smiles as he kisses my neck, nibbling my ear, licking a stripe along the way. His hands fondle my breasts, grabbing and tugging on the soft flesh.

“Mmph- daddy, need your cock,” i whine. I reach down and fumble his belt enough to get it unbuckled, but not before his hand wraps around my throat, pinning me to the bed.

“Now listen here you little bitch, you’re gonna lay there and be daddy’s good little fuck toy, aren’t you?”

My head goes fuzzy from him choking me. “Y-yes sir.”

He pulls off his belt with one hand, undoing the button on his dress pants. My heart is beating faster seeing the outline of his cock twitching for me. My eyes are locked on his hand as he slowly pulls down his fly. My hips squirm under him.

“Please, take them off… i need to be used daddy. Bruise my insides and make me yours,” i beg, wrapping my hands around his flexed arm.

My mouth is watering at the thought of him pulling his pants down and pulling his hard cock out.

He groans as he pulls his pants and underwear down in the front, painfully slow. His grip around my throat tightens. He gets them pulled down enough for his dick to spring up out of his clothes. God i can’t stand it anymore. I need it. I need it so bad.

My body trembles as he wraps his hand around it. “Like a dog waiting to be fed,” he smiles.

He gently pumps himself, a drop of precum falling to land on my stomach. “My cock is so full, you want to empty it for me baby? Yeah? You want to suck it?”

God, yes fuck.

“Yes daddy please, wanna suck you until you cum.”

He lets up his grip on my neck and i catch my breath. “Come suck it with that pretty little mouth until i paint your little whore face.”

I raise up and get on my knees on the bed in front of him. He runs his fingers through my hair, pulling it back out of the way. I reach my hand out and move my mouth to take him.

“Ah,” he stops me,” you gonna be my good girl and behave?”

I nod, taking him in my mouth. I feel my head jerk with a sting on my cheek. He grabs my face and makes me look up at him, drool dribbling down my lip.

“You know better than to not use your words. Daddy wants to play with his good girl, bad girls don’t get to cum as much as they want do they?”

“No daddy, i want your cock in my holes. M’ just wanna taste you.”

I finally take him in my mouth, taking him all the way down my throat. His stomach meets my face, turning my head to take the rest. I watch his eyes roll back, following his head.

“Yeah, thats daddy’s good fucking girl that he loves so much.”

My eyes water as i bob my head, sucking nice and good for him. I just want to be his good girl. My hand reaches down, palming his balls while i suck him off. Im looking up at him as much as i can, trying to please him so bad.

“Yeah? You want daddy to lick your cute little pussy when I’m done fuckin your throat?”

More than anything. I nod, using my mouth enough to prove to him that I’m his good girl. His thrusts meet my mouth deeper. I gag, blinking back tears while he uses my throat.

“Got a good little mouth on you don’t you baby? Such a pretty girl taking such a big cock huh?”

I whine against his flesh, my legs rubbing together.

“Poor thing, drunk on vodka and cock… so adorable.”

He rests one of his hands on my cheek, gently rubbing his thumb as a tear falls from my eye onto his hand. He pulls my hair back, taking me away from his cock. Gagging and catching my breath, i pump him in my hand while kissing along his v lines and stomach.

“Daddy, I’ve been such a good girl for you, please use my hole. I can’t wait any longer for your cock inside me.”

I stay looking up at him. His eyes show the power he has over me right now. He loops his thumb into my mouth and i suck it.

“Tell me darling, has a man ever made your ankles meet your ears?”

“N-no sir.” I couldn’t even imagine it; being folded in half and fucked. I don’t think I’ll have to wait very long to find out.

He lets out a satisfied ‘mhm’. “Don’t worry baby, ill show you. But not before i use you the way little whores get fucked.”

He pushes me back on the bed and flips me over on my stomach.

“Pick your little ass up right now,” he demands. I pick myself up as he places his hands on the sides of my ass. He gives a swift smack to my ass and thighs, jerking against him.

“Oh daddy,” i whine.

“Yeah?,” he slaps me again,” does it hurt?”

“Mhmph- yes.” Before i can say anything else, i feel his tongue run against my folds. I grip the sheets in front of me, fabric muffling my moans. One of my hands reaches around to press his head deeper. His tongue slips into me as my legs tighten over his head. He licks a strip up my ass before he spanks me again.

He grabs my hips and pulls me back against him. Rubbing his tip up and down my hole, i press back into him, needing to be filled. He takes my arms and pins them behind me with one hand.

“You gonna take this dick baby? Yeah? All you want to do is please daddy huh? I want that poor little head empty for me.”

Thats all i want to be right now is his personal sex toy; for him to use and abuse my body in any way he pleases.

“Mhm, fuck, please daddy. Im your little whore, only yours,” i plead.

I hear him let out a growl. “Good girl.”

He slams himself into me and I cry out in pain as his girth stretches my hole. He entangles his fingers in my hair and tugs tight, pressing my face into the bed.

He fucks into me mercilessly, unable to fight back against his movements. Im practically screaming in pleasure as he uses my hole.

“Yeah? Got a tight pussy on you don’t you baby? Whose fucking pussy is it?”

Before i can respond he slams deeper into me, hitting my cervix, shooting a pain through my body.

“It’s yours daddy it’s yours!,” is all i can make out as tears and mascara stain the sheets. He tightens his grip on my arms, balls slamming hard into my clit.

Fuck, his cock is so fucking big, pounding away at me like I mean nothing. I know i mean more to him than how he fucks me, but who doesn’t want to be treated like a princess and fucked like a whore?

I can practically hear how deep he is in me. He releases my arms and pulls me up, arching my back against his body.

“Yeah? Daddy fucking you good? You’re such a little fucking whore for me, and i love it.”

He reaches down and presses on my lower stomach and my god. I can feel him filling up my entire body almost. I cry out, my legs slamming shut before he spreads them back apart with a smack to my face.

“Keep your fucking legs open you slut. You know you like all of it, you’re just as fucked up as i am.”

I feel my orgasm brewing at my core, and i know he won’t release it yet.

“Mhm, fuck… c-can i cum?,” i ask.

“Course baby, you make a mess on my dick like a good girl.”

I relax into his arms before he squeezes my neck, his large hand wrapping all the way around.

“What do we say when daddy lets you cum?”

I choke back the saliva drooling out of my mouth.

“Thank you daddy.”

It doesn’t take long before I finish, crumbling apart into his arms. He rubs my clit, cause a liquid to spray out of me and onto the bed.

“Fuck yeah baby, squirt for me.”

When its passed over me, he lets me fall back onto the bed. He pulls out of me, flipping me on my back. Im limp against the bed, my orgasm taking all life out of me.

He pulls my legs up, folding me until my ass is in the air. He stands on the bed in front of me, slightly squatting as he slides back into me.

Roughly using me once again, he keeps my legs pinned out beside my head, hitting even deeper than before.

“Gah, daddy fuck! Y-you’re so deep inside me!”

“Shut up and take it little girl,” he growls.

He bites his lip hard, the vein in his forehead and arms popping out. He almost has a sort of anger behind his eyes, a frustration needing to be released…

And i know how to get it out.

“Please cum inside me Mark. I need your warm cum filling me up,” i whine.

He wraps a hand around my neck and squeezes.

“Shut up,” he groans, trying not to cum yet.

“Daddy- fuck please cum in me! Get me pregnant please! I wanna have your babies!,” i whine, about to make myself cum.

“Don’t you fucking get me going like that. I will flood your poor little womb until it hurts.”

I need more, i need all of his cum.

“Mhm, fuck your cum deep in my pussy daddy, breed me daddy, breed me! Mark my womb with your seed!”

He finally gives into me.

“Yeah? You want me to claim your womb with a seed for 9 months? You want my cum that bad? You want to make me a daddy?”

“Yes daddy, yes! Mhm I’m gonna cum for you again. Please cum with me, shoot your load into me!”

“Ugh, fuck, you’re such a dirty little whore begging for me to knock you up. You know how much i love that shit.”

Soon, I’m cumming again for him, not as wet this time. Then, he groans. He grips onto me tight enough to leave bruises as i feel his warmth seep into me.

“Daddy yes! Empty your balls into my hole!”

He continues to fuck into me, getting every last drop he has out.

Finally, after our highs have both subsided, he rests his legs back down, sweat falling down his forehead.

“God that was so fucking good baby, you’re amazing.”

He kisses me gently, wiping my tears away from my face. He slowly pulls out of me, not wanting to let go of him. He looks at the tainted sheets on the bed and smiles.

“How about i go run us a warm shower and we’ll get the sheets changed and go to bed?”

I smile. “That sounds nice.”

And thats what we did. He pulled me into his arms, me in one of his baggy shirts, and kissed me gently.

No matter how hard he fucks me, I’m still his special girl.

#costas mandylor #detective mark hoffman #mark hoffman #mark hoffman edit #mark hoffman saw #saw fanfic #saw movies

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couldntbedamned · 1 year ago

Text

Waiting for the sun to be rising

Pairing: Stephen Strange/Reader

Warnings: 18+, Some sexual content, Discussion of chronic illness, Terrible medical flirting

Word Count: 1.1k ish

Summary: After a wild romp, you relax with Stephen and contemplate your relationship, reassuring him that regardless of what he does (or doesn’t) say you know exactly how he feels about you.

Author’s Note: This is super self-indulgent. As someone with a chronic illness that often affects the sensation and dexterity of my hands, Stephen and his scarred hands are so close to my heart.

A dim light strobed in the room. Cracking an eye, you saw that the bedroom hadn’t turned into a pitiful excuse for a rave, just that your outer robe had gone flying and caught on one of the paddles of the ceiling fan, every slow rotation covering the light then letting it shine along with the stray sunbeams peeking out from the blackout curtains.

“This isn’t the mood lighting I asked for.” Your voice wasn’t strong enough to convey the annoyance you felt. It was bumming your afterglow.

A careless flick of a hand - large with long, scarred fingers sent the robe flying off and landing somewhere on the floor to join its fallen brethren.

You heard as he heaved a deep sigh and let out a groan. “What did you do to me?”

“What did I do to you?” You asked with a scoff. “I’m the one who can hardly move.”

You were no stranger to fatigue - it had been a regular part of your life since you were in college and wondering if your fuzzy vision would ever go back to normal (surprisingly, yes) or your balance ever be the same (alas, no), or you’d ever find out just what was on that scan the doctors did of your brain (also, no). You’d lived with it for more than a decade of ups and downs so fatigue? You knew fatigue. You knew when tingling nerves heralded something terrible to come.

The way your body ached and everything in you tingled and made you want to stretch out even further and clench your toes and savor the feel of the cool sheets on your bare feet? That wasn’t fatigue.

It was the kind of delightful satisfaction that only came from getting fucked in the best way possible.

“Par for the course with the heat we’ve been having.”

You rolled your eyes as you shifted just enough to look at him. He was the only one who could get away with saying something like that to you.

Stephen cut a gorgeous figure with a long, lean frame with just enough muscle to make you want to bite into it. Softly. (And you had. Many times.) He had one long leg bent at the knee and an arm resting above his head and blue eyes glittered at you under strands of dark hair that had escaped its former perfect styling.

Your hands raked through his hair as he kissed up and down your neck; you loved to mess it up and see him looking less than absolutely perfect.

He wasn’t covered by anything, simply lying naked, a smirk dancing around his lips. Your eyes swept downward as they often did, ceasing their journey at the sight of his cock, the flaccid length resting for the moment but still heavy between his thighs. Heavens, you loved that cock!

“Please, deeper, Stephen please!” He shifted just so and there it was, so deep and caressing that spot that sent a stabbing pleasure throughout your entire body.

“Maybe we’ll just say we each wrecked the other, then,” Stephen offered. “See? I can compromise.”

You laughed, amused. “I would say those people who’ve accused you otherwise don’t know you very well.”

“Oh?”

“You can be a dick, Stephen,” - you saw his quick smile at that - “but you’re not nearly as bad as other people like to make you out to be.”

No, he cared and was far more considerate than most assumed.

“Even if I have trouble saying it?”

Ah, yes. The three little words that so many people were desperate to hear that for a host of reasons, didn’t fall easily from his lips. You didn’t mind.

“You don’t have to,” you told him, taking one of his hands and gently massaging his fingers, kissing each as you completed your little self-appointed task. You knew what nerve damage felt like. “You show me a million little ways how much you love me.” With a giggle you started on his other hand. “Most recently it’s been spelling my clothes to keep me cool during this insufferable heat wave. You’re here for me and you let me gripe when I’m low on spoons, but you don’t treat me like I’m helpless. I don’t need pretty words from you.”

“You deserve to hear them,” Stephen said.

Finished with his hands, you worked on your own. The last exacerbation hadn’t been kind to your left, but the massaging it helped. “Maybe, but they’re not necessary. Not when you’re a man of action.” You looked over at him. “And judging by the action we just had, I know exactly how you feel.”

“I do, you know,” he said finally. “I really do.”

“I know you do.” You rolled into him and sighed as he wrapped his arms around you and held you close.

“Well, except for the other stuff,” he added. “Most of the things I say when I’m inside you, I don’t mean those.”

You lifted your head to study him. He looked so serious, almost sad. Your heart clenched; you weren’t always great with words, either. Actions came much easier. Only, you wanted to ease that look off of his face.

“You mean you don’t think I’m a dirty little whore only desperate for a long, thick cock to take me apart?” you asked with an exaggerated teasing pout.

Stephen briefly rolled his eyes. Mission accomplished. “Of course, I don’t. I… I just don’t want you to worry that the words that do come easily to me are what I actually believe.”

Such a precious man.

“And what about when you tell me I’m your good girl who takes your cock so well, like it’s what I was created for?”

Stephen’s eyes, so intense, darken and you feel his cock stir. “When you’ve behaved and done as I’ve told you, of course I mean it then.”

You kissed him as he rolled you over. “So long as you mean that, I am more than happy to let you say whatever dirty, filthy thing pops into that brilliant mind of yours.”

His knee fit itself between your legs and he pressed your hands against the pillow on either side of your head. Satisfied, he leaned down to whisper against your lips. “Stay just like this and I’ll give you a much better reason to be fatigued.”

You debated teasingly trying to move but decided against it. He needed it, you knew.

“Is this my treatment?” you asked instead.

His lips quirked. “You know me; I’m all about exploring new therapies.”

“My insurance isn’t that good,” you teased as he slid inside you, a delicious stretch that had your nerves tingling in the best way.

“I can think of a few ways you might reimburse me,” he teased back, rocking his hips.

“That was terrible!” Your laugh was cut short as he hit that spot. He thrust again and a moan escaped. Then another and another until any thoughts of teasing were long gone from your mind in the face of the pleasure Stephen brought.

“That’s it,” he encouraged. “Just be good for me, be my good girl.”

You would. Of course, you would.

#stephen strange x reader #doctor strange x reader #stephen strange x chronically ill reader #doctor strange x chronically ill reader #stephen strange #doctor strange #chronically ill reader #chronic illness #couldntbedamned fic

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eroticcannibal · 5 months ago

Note

Hello, I was wondering about how to learn more about the subject matter of Zionism and the complexity of it as a term because your post about it interested me. For reference I'm not Jewish and I'm new to learning about it, though I'm staunchly against the genocide being committed against Palestinians by the Israeli government.

I've seen the way the term is used and I'm aware my information on the subject is limited, as is my personal stake in it as someone who is non-Jewish and non-Palestinian. When doing research on the subject of zionism as a historical movement, I find a lot of descriptions of it as a colonialist movement with the goal of developing an ethnostate. One sentence from the Wikipedia page on Zionism reads: "Zionist nationalism drew from a German ethnic-nationalist theory that people of common descent should seek separation and pursue the formation of their own state."

When thinking about forms of Zionism, and in relation to your post about it, what do you mean when talking about how it's a more complex issue than Zionism being bad inherently? Or is your belief more that people with Zionist beliefs should not be seen as inherently bad? I suppose I'm unsure how to conceptualize the idea of Zionism not having inherent issues if it is based on those ideas, though since I'm no historian, I'd like to learn more about the topic and complexities surrounding it.

Pre-emptively clarifying that you're under no obligation to reply, and that if I've said anything offensive, please let me know so I can learn, as that's not my intention. I'm also not trying to argue (people often think I am); I want to learn more about this topic, and I'd rather openly admit when I want to learn more rather than being performatively "educated". Thank you!

First of all thank you so much for being reasonable and curious about this

I will preface this with i am perpetually tired and a bit stupid and I dont always word things how I want to so everyone be patient and understanding especially on such a diversive topic. Ultimately everything I say is based on the view that genocide bad, peace good, people in power suck and normal people have more in common than they have differences.

Now I am not the person to go to for a proper explanation on the broadly accepted kinds of zionism and the history of it and how that feeds into the ideas around zionism that people believe *now*. Hopefully someone else can add something useful wrt that.

My experience is largely with individual zionists and their personal beliefs, motivations and actions, and what these people have made of zionism. I will also stress that I am not going to argue if zionism broadly, or any specific version of zionism, is right or wrong. I think it is a perfectly legitimate stance to argue that all forms of zionism may have inherent issues (show me an ideology that doesnt) and im certainly not informed enough to argue against that. (Maybe someone else can offer some input here). Not only is it fucking complicated, its something that does (in the case of "zionism that supports everything happening right now") and would (for any other form of zionism) affects so many different aspects of life for different groups with different priorities that I dont think anyone is going to come up with anything that everyone is happy with. (This is mostly just disclaimer for anyone pissing on the poor lol)

So when I say that zionism is too complex and broad a term to be viewed as inherently bad, I am talking about the specific nuances that individual zionists have with their beliefs. While not a zionist, I think what other tumblr users (typically those falsely accused of being zionists) said wrt being neither zionist nor antizionst helped it click in my mind how fuzzy the boundaries between these ideologies are, where you can explain your beliefs to a zionist and an anti zionist and both could think you are on "their side". Their is overlap in ideas, a state can exist in so many forms and ultimately the promise of israel to zionists is simply safety, that does not *have* to exist as a detriment to others.

I know zionists who just want to know they have somewhere to go if they need to. Others who value the Jewish claim to the area but not at the expense of palestinians who they believe also have a valid claim. I know others who *dont* believe palestinians have a valid claim but are not opposed to living alongside palestinians. Some support seperate states bordering each other due to fear of continued violence if everyone shared one state. Some simply do not see a way of dismantling Israel without the death of Israelis and non Israeli Jews who would otherwise flee there, so support the continued existance of Israel even if they are opposed to the idea of Israel. Some want to start over with something better. Some are ideologically zionist but think that everything that has happened so far has been done wrong and is doomed to failure. Some want a religious Jewish state and some only want to guarantee enough Jews in charge that it remains a haven for persecuted Jews. Some dont even want *that* and just seek a state in which some sort of constitution enshrines the right for Jews to seek safety regardless of who is actually in charge. And there are many, regardless of their particular flavour of zionism, who are educating, donating, protesting and doing direct action in support of palestinians. Very few genuinely believe that they will gain safety through genocide.

And of course with any broad ideology there will always be the extremists, those who do want palestinians dead. But this is far from representative of everyone.

But also while I wasn't explicitly trying to talk about it in that post, I do *also* think, even if someone is opposed to zionism in all its forms, it is important to not see zionists as inherently bad people. (To be clear, for this next bit i am strictly talking about the fears of Jewish zionists and their allies, not christian zionists or those weaponising zionism to support anti palestinian sentiment or antisemitism). Ultimately zionism comes from a place of cultural and current trauma. Much like I refuse to see someone with a general wariness or distrust of men due to trauma as a bad person unless they go full terf, I will not see a zionist as a bad person unless they are calling for genocide. Jews have every reason to fear for their safety and not trust any country other than Israel to protect them. History has shown that these fears are not unfounded. How can we expect Jews as a whole to reject zionism when so many feel it is their only hope for safety (especially when there is practically no talk of an alternative?) It is human to want yourself, your family and your community to be safe. I know that I would do far more than just hold a political belief, over far less than a proven history of my people being slaughtered, to protect far fewer than everyone I care about. As would most people.

(Slight tangent here but why this is so important to me is largely driven by my belief that understanding this is vital for peace so)

I also think it is simply not beneficial to palestinians to treat every zionist like their beliefs make them an inherently bad person. It further polarises things when you tell people that wanting safety means they support the very worst version of their ideology which makes them easier to radicalised because you strip them of any more moderate community support (again to make the terf analogy, they use the "if you are critical of men you are spouting terf ideology" shit as a way to recruit traumatised people), all this feeds into people pushing ideas like "all Jews must be zionists (for their own safety because no one else cares)" and therefore "all Jews are bad (because they are all zionists and zionists must support genocide)", creating that kind of fear will only lead to Israelis and palestinians being more fearful of and more radicalised against each other, which just fuels and supports violence. Us vs them has always been an effective method of radicalising people towards violence and supporting the violence a state commits. And like. Thats something that innocent normal people always lose on both sides and that only benefits people in power.

I genuinely believe that an effective way forward is to support peaceful zionism that addresses the trauma and legitimate fears that have led to zionism as an alternative for radicalised zionists (and more realistic than trying to push them towards anti zionism) but that cannot happen while all of zionism is seen as inherently genocidal.

(Also just to touch on christian zionism and the weaponising of zionism briefly, I think it does a disservice to the discussion when people do not distinguish between these and Jewish and Jewish supportive zionism. So much of the discourse around zionism, either explicitly or implicitly, targets Jewish zionism, when so much of what feeds the violence and especially financial and logistical support of violence is these other zionsims. There are more christian zionists specifically in the US alone than there are Jews in the world. And honestly it just kind of feels very wrong that these kinds of zionism get conflated to the detriment of Jews as a whole, when Christian zionism is motivated by the desire to harm Jews and weaponised zionism seeks to harm both sides.)

Anyway I hope I've addressed your questions properly (I struggle with long asks and long responses because memory issues and I have to keep scrolling up and down to reread anything). Feel free to re ask anything I missed or ask for clarification, hope I did not ramble too much on tangents. Its just one of those topics where you talk about one thing and you have to talk about everything else that connects to it.

And everyone else please be normal about this. Ultimately everyone involved in this conversation opposes genocide and supports peace, and I do not make my space welcoming to people who believe otherwise, so we can be civil and nuanced about this.

#OH I SURE HOPE THIS CAN DOESNT HAVE WORMS IN IT #long post

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longdeadking-moved-blogs · 1 year ago

Text

and in a word where they made it out:

there's a knock at ranboo's door. it makes him jump, just a little.

his eyes refocus, and he blinks, twice, hard enough that his vision goes fuzzy and spreading black splotches threaten to blind him. but he blinks those away, too, and finds himself staring at the door of his tiny apartment.

there's a knock again, and finally, they move their stiff, aching legs. it hurts to take the seven (exactly seven, counted over and over and over and over again) steps to the door. their arms tingle with settled blood as they put a hand on the doorknob.

they hesitate.

there's no peephole in this door. no guarantee of what's behind it (briefly, ranboo thinks of christian hell, and his dry eyes water with sob-laughter-sobs).

"ranboo," a voice, muffled by the door and by ranboo's own ringing ears, says.

oh.

it's sneeg behind the door.

ranboo breathes in and turns the knob.

opens the door.

doesn't make eye contact, but does look at sneeg, standing there, tired eyes and worried face mirroring ranboo's own (at least, they would assume).

"hey, sneeg. what's up?" ranboo asks. his voice is hoarse, and the mask over his mouth is damp and stuffy. he's been breathing into it too heavily, for too long. has he been screaming?

sneeg stares for another second, still worried. "not much. can i come in?" he asks, and ranboo takes another too-long moment to back up and let the door fall open. as sneeg walks in, they study the hallway behind him. it's the same hallway as it was the first time ranboo saw it, and every time after that.

sneeg closes the door behind him (as always). "i've been knocking for a while. are you alright?" he asks.

ranboo nods, and flinches when his neck pops. it doesn't hurt, but it betrays how stiff he really is. "yeah, i'm all good. all good over here."

"sure," sneeg says. he sounds almost normal - a manufactured, snarky, characterized normal. but his voice isn't coming inexplicably from ranboo's inner ear, it's coming from in front of him.

ranboo breaks their focus on sneeg to turn around. count the walls. 4, and all of them are just the way they left them. everything is okay.

when they turn back around, sneeg is sprawled out on the stained, cat-scratched, hand-me-down couch. he gestures to the open space, and ranboo sits down robotically.

sneeg grimaces at that. ranboo thinks he might know why, but there's something blocking the thought from reaching its conclusion. he stares at the man laying on his couch, and doesn't blink.

"hey. ranboo," sneeg says, his voice loud and firm. he pokes ranboo in the shoulder as he says it.

ranboo doesn't move, but does focus just a little.

"it's a bad day to be a cheesecake."

and ranboo breaks. they smile first, then let out a single breathy laugh, and then they're doubled over, tears in their eyes and gasping for air. the seconds between reactions are gone, but they revel in the moment. they look up to side-eye sneeg, who is smiling so wide ranboo could count his teeth.

"sorry, sorry, you just seemed out of it," sneeg laughs. "how are you feeling?"

ranboo sighs away the last dregs of laughter and straightens up. it doesnt last - the couch is old, but comfortable, and they sink into the cushions. "foggy, i think, but fine."

"you sure?" sneeg asks. "charlie came by earlier, and said he didn't get any response from you. he was at your door for a long time."

"when was that?" ranboo asks. he combs his memory, but - nothing. he can barely conjure up charlie's face.

sneeg shrugs. "probably an hour or so ago."

"ooh, that's not great, is it?" ranboo asks.

sneeg shakes his head. "it's not a great day for anybody, from what i've heard."

"what's up with you?" ranboo asks.

"i'm being a dick, according to my roommate. mine's not as bad as charlie, at least. he woke up bleeding, so you can imagine how his day's been," sneeg replies.

"yeah, i can imagine." ranboo has his own issues with blood and slime, but he hadn't eaten the stuff - or been drenched in it. no, his issue was something else entirely.

ranboo runs a hand over his mask. it's made of white cloth, soft and breatheable and secured around his ears, not the back of his head. he tugs on the ear straps, then readjusts the nose piece, then rubs the fabric between his fingers, then -

"hey, deep breaths, man," sneeg says. his hand is on ranboo's, stopping their fidgeting. "do you want to take your mask off? i'll turn around, close my eyes, whatever."

ranboo shakes their head so hard it makes them dizzy. "no, no, i don't."

they really don't. it feels like the last thing they'd ever consider, like pulling off the flimsy fabric covering might stop their heart or suffocate them. this, they know, is a remnant of something they don't think about. but knowledge isn't healing.

sneeg nods, relaxes, but doesn't move his hand.

"i think i've been zoning out more than usual," ranboo admits, so quiet that it's almost lost beneath the muffling mask and the buzz of lamplights. "i don't know how to fix that."

sneeg shrugs. "look it up. plenty of people disassociate. i learned that from the internet. crazy how that works."

he says it like he's joking, and also a little bit like ranboo is stupid for not thinking of it first. which is how they know it's not intentional.

"you're being a jerk," they warn him. "and this is different. other people haven't had their entire perception controlled by a coroprate media company."

"sorry. it's really not that different, though. the cause is different, but the outcome is the same. i'd say googling tips on how to stay grounded is the best you can do without an actual therapist," sneeg argues.

ranboo makes a face behind his mask. "therapy. what a great way to get dragged back to the mall by a stray employee."

sneeg shrugs. "it might be worth the risk."

"i doubt it."

"maybe i'll try it someday, and tell you all about how stable and healthy i'm becoming," sneeg laughs.

"maybe," ranboo agrees.

it's joking, and vague, and more than a little morbid. but sneeg does think that there's a future. that "someday" will eventually turn into "today." and ranboo finds that comforting, somehow.

it's nice to hear from someone else, that the future does exist.

it makes it easier to think it does.

#the kings decrees #musings #genloss #genloss spoilers #genloss fanfic #genloss ranboo #genloss sneeg #ranboo's disassociation is inspired by my own brain fog (which i was experiencing while trying to write this)#i hope i got their characterizations right! i mean technically they can be anything but yknow. i try.

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akirakirxaa · 1 year ago

Text

FFXIVWrite Prompt 15: Portentous

Rating: M

Word Count: 1493

Warnings: Descriptions of illness, major character death

Summary: Persephone meets her fate. [Vampire AU, Hythazemet, Continuation of Prompt 14.]

Master Post

Persephone cracked open eyes stuck together with sleep and a portentous stinging that she knew normally would herald the coming of a terrible fever. Throat dry, she struggled to push herself up, only to jump in surprise at movement in the dark.

“Shhh, it’s just me,” she heard Hythlodaeus’ voice, and a moment later a dim lamp on the side table clicked on to reveal him looking drowsy in the desk chair.

“Why are you just sitting in the dark?” she croaked as he poured some water into a glass and passed it to her.

“Well, you were asleep, and I was starting to doze off, so I thought-“

“No, no, I mean, why are you watching me sleep?”

“Oh,” he shifted a little. “We figured since we don’t know how long your transformation will take, that we should stay nearby in case you need something.”

“I thought the goal was for me to die,” she said, more conversationally than if she’d been fully awake.

“The process is unpleasant enough without having to suffer through it with no care at all,” he took the water cup back from her, setting it on her side table as she settled back into her blanket.

“I didn’t feel this bad before,” she mumbled, already on the edge of sleep again, but uncomfortable enough to keep her awake.

“Like I said, there are a lot of factors in how fast it goes.” Hythlodaeus pulled a few blankets out of a nearby dresser, setting them across the foot of the bed. “I hope it continues to go this quickly. It’s bad no matter how long it takes, but most tend to agree the less time it takes, the better.”

“Oh? Anything we can do to speed it up?” she asked blearily. He chuckled quietly.

“No, it will take as long as it takes,” he shrugged, touching his hand to her forehead. She leaned into it, the coolness a relief.

“Ah, that’s nice,” Persephone mumbled. “Just stay there, would you?” Another huffed sound of amusement as he reached over with his other hand to turn the lamp back off, but he didn’t move his hand. Or she didn’t think he did. It wasn’t long before she fell back into unconsciousness.

The next few days were an ocean of symptoms; each time one receded, another rose to take its place. If the fever subsided for a time, a cough would emerge, or her eyes would water and itch, or she’d struggle for breath. It was like her body knew all the attempts to rid herself of this infection were futile and desperately was trying everything it had to rid her of it.

The worst was day three, the day her body attempted to purge itself of everything she attempted to eat or drink. The two vampires fussed the worst over that, insisting she keep drinking more and more water even as it continued to come back up. Said she needed to stay hydrated. She pointed out if the point was dying, why were they trying to keep her healthy? They both tried to explain, but her head was so fuzzy she couldn’t grasp the concepts.

Hades fussed just as much as Hythlodaeus, she learned, just went about it a different way. Instead of kind smiles and friendly conversation, he was all scowls and angry admonishments of foolish behavior. The day she tried to go get her own food when her legs shook with chills, he lectured her the whole time she ate the bowl of soup he made for her. But a smile and a thank you seemed to be all it took to crack through the harsh exterior and spy something a bit more bashful just behind. But before she could prod further, he fled the room, switching out with Hythlodaeus.

During the good moments, when she could fathom doing anything but curling up in bed and waiting for it to be over, she asked for her phone. She knew she’d had it with her during the attack, and it hadn’t been on her person when she awoke in the aftermath. After a couple of days, Hythlodaeus approached with something small in his hand.

“So, good news. We finally found your phone, but um, there’s also some bad news,” he presented to her, and she grasped for it only to be filled with disappointment as she realized it was in a sad state. The front was shattered, the metal body bent almost to breaking. The port appeared as if someone had tried to jam something inside. She sighed in disappointment and set it aside.

“I guess the last thing I need right now is people blowing my phone up looking for me,” she mumbled, though it was clear she was far more let down by the news of her phone’s fate than she was letting on.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t find it before it got like this.”

“Don’t worry about it. Things can be replaced,” Persephone shrank into her blankets (the chills were almost constant now, so she slept with two thick quilts that did almost nothing to relieve the cold). “You must be hot; go cool off for a while.”

“In a little while,” he always answered her concerns, which she knew to mean only when Hades appeared to swap out. Despite his prickliness, Hades had refrained from complaining about the heat in the room when she was so cold she felt she would never be warm again. She appreciated it. Persephone felt guilty enough about it already without his barbed comments being directed at it. She rested only slightly easier knowing they’d closed off the room as much as they safely could, to keep the rest of the house cool. Not just for their comfort, but her future comfort soon enough, once this heat was just as unbearable to her.

But for now, in the midst of a fever that seemed to just get higher, it was as if she couldn’t get warm enough, the warm air around her still cool on her skin.

~*~

Everyone knew something was off on day seven, when the two vampires realized mid morning that Persephone had yet to stir for water or food. Hythlodaeus woke her first, with great difficulty, food and drink at the ready. She sniffed just a little at the food, a breakfast spread with just about anything she might want, but ultimately refused to eat any of it. The water she choked down clearly only to make him happy, then dozed back off, either unwilling or unable to pull her blankets around her as she had before.

She slept most of the day, the two taking turns watching her like a hawk, abandoning the pretense of keeping busy in her vicinity. Persephone’s occasional shivers and puffs of breath stirring the hair in her face were the only signs of life for hours. Late in the evening, however, Hades looked towards her to find her fever bright brown eyes watching him.

“Would you like some water?” he asked her, clearly deciding that she was far enough gone that insisting she stay hydrated was pointless. She nodded weakly anyway, and he carefully helped her sit up before helping her drink. She took a few sips before pushing it away, and he settled her back before placing the glass back on the table.

“…I’m scared,” he heard a small voice, almost too quiet to catch, and he turned to see Persephone still watching him, tears slowly dripping down her face as she tried to keep them in.

Goddammit, he thought. This is really more Hythlodaeus’ strong suit. He took a breath and pulled the small chair he and his companion had been practically living in for a week closer to the bedside. Hades reached across the blankets to take her hand in his. She clutched it with what seemed to be as much strength as she could muster.

“What’s it like?” she asked, and he could only assume she meant the act of dying itself.

“I don’t rightly remember.” He ran his thumb over her fingers. “It was a long time ago for me. I barely remember the sickness. But I do know Hythlodaeus has assured me over and over that this part you’re going through right now was by far the worst part. So I think you could say that it’s all downhill from here.”

“You do know that has two meanings, right?” Persephone’s mouth twitched into the ghost of a smirk.

“I mean the good one.”

“You better,” the smile faded again, and she stared into nothingness for several moments before Hades tried taking back his hand. Her eyes snapped back to his, and she redoubled her grip.

“Please stay?”

“…Of course.”

And so he did. He stayed when she drifted into sleep again. When her shivering subsided and her fever spiked higher. When her grip loosened around his. When her breathing faded.

And when her heart stopped.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite2023 #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrites2023 #hythazemet #hythlodaeus #emet-selch #azem #oc: persephone 'azem'#vampire au #modern au #my fanfiction #my writing #fanfic #sorry this is a dark one #but next we get to all the stumbling through learning how to vampire which is something i feel a lot of vampire stories squander #also sorry if you're tired of vampire au but i'm not so :P #ship: distant skies #verse: once bitten

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secretswiftymarvelfan · 2 years ago

Note

I hope it's not to late to send in a headcanon for your birthday

How would the Chris characters would react to reader being on her period.

It’s never too late! Especially for you 😘 and thank you for sending in a prompt! Its been a while since I’ve done a Chris and Co. Headcanon!

Warnings: Period talk! Language!

Masterlist

Send me some Birthday headcanon and Drabble Prompts

Chris Evans

With his job and schedule it meant Chris couldn’t always be with you when mother nature came to visit

But that would never stop him from trying to help you feel better

He would order stuff to be delivered to the house, like your favourite icecream, snacks and even a new set of fuzzy comfy PJs

Whenever he got the chance he would FaceTime you and help distract you

And if you were in a real need of a pick me up he would text his ma and ask if she could bring you some of her cooking which he knew you loved

Andy Barber

Since Andy was a busy man with a very important job you never wanted to burden him

But no matter how busy Andy got with a case he would always notice when something wasn’t right with you

And even when you tried your hardest to play it down and act as normal but Andy knew your tell tale signs, he could just tell by the tone of your voice

So he made sure to leave the office on time or early if he could, pick up some more supplies and head on home

He would cook you a glorious meal and then you would curl up on the couch together watching whatever film or TV series you wanted

Mechanic!Curtis

Curtis knew just how bad your periods could get, the both of you having to cancel plans just because it was that tough on you

But despite how bad they could get, you never let them stop you from working, your patients needed you

So when you got home Curtis made sure your evenings were as easy as they could be

He had comfy clothes already laid out, hot water bottle’s ready to be filled, heating pads, a couple flannels in the fridge for your headaches, and meds all ready

As soon as you stepped inside he would swoop you up into his arms and wouldn’t let you lift a finger

You’d often end the evening laying between Curtis’ legs, your head on his chest as he read whatever book you we’re currently reading out loud to you

Biker!Ari

He knew something was up as soon as he stepped inside the bar

Your brows were pinched together and you weren’t your usual self, a lot more closed off than normal

He tried to ask you multiple times what was wrong but you waved him off each time, but Ari was persistent and he wasn’t gonna let this go

So he kept asking, right up until you practically bit his head off “Ari I swear to fucking god! It feels like I’m being ripped to shreds from the inside out I do not need you badgering me like a five year old!”

Ari didn’t say anything he just stood from his stool and walked behind the bar, your eyes wide with shock as he towered over you

“Go lie down for 30 minutes I’ll cover the bar” he states.

“Ari no, I’m fine” you sigh tiredly, running your hands down your face

“No, you’re not, go lie down” he says putting his hands on your shoulders “30 minutes at least”

You let out another long sigh, your shoulders dropping “fine, thank you Ari” you finally said

Ransom Drysdale

To begin with Ransom was pretty useless

He would just let you deal with it since he had absolutely no clue how to help

He didn’t know what really changed but one day he saw you really suffering, holding back tears suffering, so enough was enough he had to do something

Pulling out his laptop he began googling everything he could before heading out to the shops to get what he needed

When he got back he found you up in bed, curled up in a ball

“I brought you some stuff kitten” he says putting multiple grocery bags down on the bed

You frown sitting up and looking through all the bags “Jesus Ransom did you buy the whole store?”

“Maybe I just wanted to get anything you might need, I’m sorry if I’ve been pretty useless” Ransom apologises.

You smile softly over at him “thank you Ransom, its the thought that counts”

“Well from now on tell me what you need and I’ll sort it” he swears

“All I need right now is for you to hold me” you admit

Ransom doesn’t hesitate as he climbs into bed next to you and pulls you into his embrace “anything for you kitten”

Lloyd Hansen

Lloyd actually was useless

It didn’t affect him so he didn’t care

He would leave you to it, throwing you his credit card

“Just use that for whatever you need or want” he’d huff as he leaves

So maybe he did care, just a little bit

SEND ME SOME BIRTHDAY PROMPTS!

Sharing is caring to please reblog this if you enjoyed it and leave a comment to really make my day!

Masterlist

I don’t have a tag list but follow @secretswiftymarvelfanlibary and turn on post notification to keep up to date!

#Niamh's 24th Birthday Celebrations #Chris Evans and Co.#chris evans #Andy Barber #Ari Levinson #Biker!Ari #Curtis Everett #Mechanic!Curtis #Ransom Drysdale #lloyd hansen

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dadkisser15 · 4 months ago

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Fuzzy brain

Im currently trying to read and it’s romance (of course) but all I can think of is his fucking smile and thinking about it just makes my chest feel all fuzzy and warm. It’s distracting in a way but a lot of things remind me of him so maybe there’s just something wrong with my mind; I of course don’t mind thinking about him though, I just can’t bother him right now (he’s sleeping) so that makes me kinda sad!!!!! God I miss his smile, his laugh and his presence; I love his mannerisms and I love how comfortable I feel with him. I can be kinda shy at times but his playful behavior and the way he doesn’t drop a topic immediately makes me want to open up and share. I just needed to get this out of my head real quick so I can read but my heart and head is so full of him. I feel like im going crazy but I don’t want the feeling to stop, it’s a good feeling. I wonder if he ever feels like this, id love to study his mind and figure out his thought process. I feel so ugly right now and its probably cause I just ate, I always feel so guilty when I eat even when i don’t eat much; it’s like my head is stuck in this spot where i feel like I need to insult myself for having normal human needs. Im just scared of gaining weight and being undesirable. I know, so random but the guilt is hitting me right now. Honestly, I really hate the way my mind works. I feel like I don’t have many desirable traits. I overthink and over analyze EVERYTHING, I’m awkward and so bad at conversation. I get embarrassed easily, I don’t know why but I really hate that because sometimes I get embarrassed at the most random things and it just doesn’t make sense to me. Im so bad at regulating my emotions, when I feel something it hits hard. I’ve found ways to cope with that though so it’s okay but I hate being emotional. Someone could say something and not really mean it but oh! would you look at that im fucking sobbing because im so extremely sensitive?!!!! Oh and I get jealous so easily…. I HATEEE feeling jealous. Like if I was attractive maybe some of these bad traits could be okay but im NOT. All of my life I’ve been just some ugly kid and now im just barely mid. I’ve been trying to embrace some of the features I was given but still im like cursed with the FUGLIEST build 😭. Like what the fuck… 😨😨😨😨😨 I just want to be pretty. I want him to find me pretty. Guys I wish I was a baddie 😭 fml fml fml fml fml okay I’ll go read instead of self loathing ☹️. I just want to be loved so bad, I want him and I would literally tear any woman that gets in my way. Im joking!!! Guysssss if you can get him you can have him 🩷 im kidding id fucking crash out and someone would die, like genuinely I’d hunt a bitch down for even trying. You guys think im playing but im fr that man is mine. IM JOKINNGGGGGG!!!!!! 😊 sorry, i sound crazy and fucking weird! Maybe im feeling a bit angry about something but it’s okayy. Icould literally care less like it’s not even a big deal , LIKE. ITS WHATEVERRRRRR. It isn’t whatever, I blocked this bitch but it ain’t enough I need her GONE. BYE!!!! I DONT GIVA DFUVKKKKK !!!!!! Okay I do lol sorry im so mean ☺️ it’s okay.

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ajoytobeheld · 1 year ago

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Film 2010

January 1st, 2011

Films I thought Were Good Last Year

So….

Lets start with “Cracks,” which I know was released on the cusp of 2009 BUT it didnt make it to my local arthouse cinema until 2010, so for me, that counts. I frequently go the cinema alone because its pointless to socialize in dark rooms and the lack of a normal 9-5 job means there aren’t many people willing to bunk off work to see the daytime showing of a film about psychotic lesbian teachers… (or are there?)

Anyway, lonesome cinema trips are a cathartic experience for distracting me out of what ever bad mood I have found myself in and at that point, early 2010, I had a case of mild heartbreak (emo music! Moping! etc) and this film lifted my spirits. It is a cheesy sentiment yes, but none the less true..

Winters Bone

A film about meth, squirrels and snow. Wonderfully underplayed and I was pretty smug throughout because I snuck in my own penny sweets.

Toy Story 3

I had so much doubt with its lack of Josh Whedon on writing credits and it’s presentation in pointless 3D but luckily it was great. I also think its nice for Tim Allen to have something to do.

Youth in Revolt

Do you dimly remember when Michael Cera was in Arrested Development and you thought “he’s good, i see a bright future for him as long as he doesn’t get pigeonholed as the same character in everything and become really annoying…plus he looks a bit like a dinosaur.” Well, our fears came true. Pigeonholed and more dinosaur like everyday, which is why it was a surprise to me when I enjoyed his dual performance as the protagonist Nick Twisp and the protagonists French moustache twirling alter ego Francois in this well written and silly film. Plus he manages to perform in it without ruining a comic franchise.

BONUS.

The Social Network

Thought it was gonna be okay, but it was actually better then okay and overcame that whole nasty Benjamin Button misfire by Mr Fincher, and I also think its one of the only films i could happily sit through twice in the space of a week.

Fish Tank

I feel there is a theme of cheating in this because once again this film came out in late 2009 but once again it was not avaliable for most Cardiff based mortals to view until 2010. Andrea Arnold has made a few films about put upon women and this film details the dancing ambitions of a girl who becomes embroiled in a very inappropriate relationship with her mothers boyfriend. Step Up it is not. The star of the film Katie Jarvis is much like 90’s star Shola Ama.

Jarvis was “spotted” after Arnold witnessed her arguing with her boyfriend at a train station much like Ama gained a record deal after she was heard singing on a tube. But I have higher hopes for the career of Jarvis.

The Runaways

I double billed this film with something else I cant remember, so that couldn’t have been as good…. Kristen Stewart proves she isn’t all mumbly hair sucking and she kind of rocks this

Kick Ass

This film made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside many many times.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

I confess I have not seen the rest of the millennium trilogy but this first effort was a well constructed who dunnit which may have felt televisual but if its good enough to require a America remake for those who cant read subtitles then that’s something….

Whip It

I saw this film when we were trapped in London because of the DAMMED VOLCANO. I was feeling pretty distraught about fate sending me back to Cardiff when I really wanted to be in New York so I needed some escapism.

I swallowed my reservations about this possibly being shit and gave it a go….and its bloody amazing. It doesn’t follow the generic “girl coming of age” formula I expected plus has a line I can really relate to.

“I didn’t have a Barbie-roller-skates-phase, I had a fat-kid-sits-inside-and-reads-phase.”

The Killer Inside Me

It always feels strange to see a film alone in the afternoon about a sociopath who brutally beats up Jessica Alba and Kate Hudson, but sometimes your just in that kind of mood. Much like “Lust, Caution” I went to see this film based on the controversy that surrounded it, and much like “Lust, Caution” I was pleasantly surprised by how good it was, and how a few well publicised scenes do not dictate what a film is actually about. Though Michael Winterbottoms film is brutal and tough viewing it is also very good and at time hilarious, and the horrific violence of those few scenes did not feel like a effort in misogyny from the director, rather an effort in showing how truly unfeeling and narcisstic Casey Afflecks character is. The ending is pretty insane as well.

Monsters

When watching this I was aware of a building sense of unrest within certain fractions of the audiences, they were turning to each other and asking “is this title perhaps a bit misleading? There are definetely less monsters and more soft focus then I was expecting…Shall we sit here and giggle inanely instead of watching the film because we are too stupid to appreciate it? YES LETS.” Loved this film.

Of Gods and Men

I dragged my mother and sister along to this telling them a French film about Trappist monks in Algeria could be a bit of a laugh. Subtle and beautiful and I cried my eyes out like a little baby during the scene soundtracked by Swan Lake.

Other Notable Mentions

Eclipse

Harry Potter

Buried

Another Year

Ponyo!

Worst film Eva

Sex and the City 2

#2011 #ellen!blog #lc!blog

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ordinarybeinghauntedbyderealism · 2 years ago

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Moni

I always loved moni ever since I first met this moni I know now she was very talkative and INSANE she thought I was joking around with her so she threatened me with her suicide and it made me smile it’s like ever since I met moni I has this intense feeling of always loving her and showing her my affection. We started waking up early and walking around before class starts at the time I fist bumped her bye and she hated how sweaty my hand was when she held it. Its good that I sweat moni that’s how I know my body loves you physically and mentally. It has been 8 months with moni and I started dating her January 17th she asked me out with papers that I showed my mother and she cried she hugged me that day and I felt so happy. I kissed moni when we were doing our fake tea party and it wasn’t a normal kiss it was a kiss where I like sucked on her tongue and it felt amazing I always wanted to kiss her I always watched her lips move when she talked I always loved watching her go on random rants about things. Now we just both stare at each other and the feeling of losing my beloved moni has gotten stronger and I feel like she wants out everyday that goes by but why when she kisses me my thoughts all just blur out. It’s like a gentle kiss from her just shuts off everything I’m thinking. Moni has this issue of thinking when she’s stuck in some hole that’s theirs no way out IVE been trying to be this being that can fix her but how can I fix her when I feel the same way but the only difference is I actually fight the feeling to make her not feel depressed when I’m quiet. I love moni so much IVE AKWAYS loved her ever since I first locked eyes on her I felt my body get this fuzzy feeling it felt like her soul was touching my heart like I just wanted her so bad. It was a Friday right before some break and I knew had to get her social I had to do something to come in contact with her and just finally find out how she is but I couldn’t go up to her I was so nervous I started asking people around me if I’m good enough for her she’s like way out of my league finally one of my friends asked me what I was doing I told him and he ran up to her and told her that I wanted her socials and I hate that socials is a thing now I wish I could’ve gave her some note telling her all of my thoughts and putting my number at the very end I just wish I done something better to prove to her that I’m just not some regular being doing what all beings do now I wish I could’ve wrote out something on some paper and gave it to her friend a note is way bette than just asking for someone’s socials. It made me so nervous I was ALWYAS the very self conscious and nervous being like she was too good too be true in my mind like I just couldn’t withstand staring at her that my face would just turn all red and I’ll like pass out scared so my entire body paused till I just finally said it all shaky like my body was sweating SO MUCH I CAN ACTUALLY FEEL MY HEART BEAT IT LIKE ECHOED THROUGH OUT MY ENTIRE BODY THAT WHOLE DAY WHEN she said yes. AUGH I love moni so much i really want more of her but I’m scared of leaving a permanent mental scar if I touch her the wrong way I want to respect moni and only touch her when I feel inside my body that I should. Her expressions and loud voice is so cute to me I love walking her to every class and saying that I love her in my mind. I always want to tell moni in person that I love her but it’s so hard to bring words out when my body is shaking and sweating just from thinking about her every few mins before class ends. I TOLD HER once when she said she couldn’t hear but I didn’t know that she has turned her headphones off and ACTUALLY HEARD ME. MY ENTIRE STOMACH DROPPED AND I COULDN’T STAND TO FACE HER I JUST WANTED TO ROLL DOWN THE GRASSS AND GRIP MY FACE.

I just wanted to say I love you moni being close to you gives me this utterable feeling my body can’t fight.

ISA

#Spotify

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chalkscene · 2 years ago

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fruits basket ⇢ RANDOM THINGS YOU DO THAT THEY SECRETLY LOVE

ft. kyo sohma, yuki sohma, shigure sohma & hatori sohma

“you’re so bad at this,” KYO jests as he effortlessly blocks your pathetic excuse of a punch. “you have an actual teacher,” you quip, “i only have you.” “oh, is that so?” he goads. you already know he’s just trying to get a rise out of you and yet, it works every time. “one of these days, i’m going to beat you for real.” kyo cackles at your empty threat, the time he was hellbent on one-upping yuki simultaneously flashing back to his mind. without any intention to put up a fight, he lets you pin him down with one strike, both of you landing with a soft thud. “looks like today’s the day.” he grins cheekily, earning an eye roll from you. “stop letting me win,” you whine. “if i did, i might end up hurting you.” technically, it is the truth but due to years of training, kyo’s gained enough control over his strength to not inflict serious harm on you - but he won’t tell you that. sure, he’s competitive but he’ll let you win again and again if it means he gets to do this with you everyday.

“are you home?” YUKI sends you a quick text to which you reply: “yup!” he’s about to dial your number when a follow-up message from you pops up and he’s never been more puzzled in his life as he now stares at a selfie of you holding a fork over your head. after contemplating the proper response - if there even is a proper response to this - he texts back: “is now a good time?” “yeah, call me.” when you pick up after two rings, he immediately asks. “what’s the picture for?” “proof that i’m home.” the smile on your face doesn’t falter as if that photo was normal - much to yuki’s confusion, his furrowed eye brows looking adorably hilarious to you. “it’s just this stupid thing i saw on social media,” you shrug, “it’s no big deal.” “you know i’m not worried about you lying to me right?” “yeah but i thought it was funny. besides, you gave me a key to your apartment. i’m giving you my selfies.” easing up, he starts laughing with you. “preferably with no forks.” “no forks. got it.” — after talking for hours about anything and everything, you finally hang up. yuki feels like a high schooler all over again as he smiles at your photo except he never got to do this in high school, plagued with the need to self-isolate lest others see his true self. then here you are, seemingly feeling the exact opposite like you trust him with yourself; his heart feels fuzzy at the realization as he saves the image to his phone.

SHIGURE groans, being woken up by the direct sunlight passing through his window. realizing he’s fallen asleep on his desk, he glances around the room as his mind wanders to you. he remembers you staying up with him, bouncing off ideas for a new story his editor has been nagging him for putting off for weeks until you excused yourself to brew some tea - he must’ve dozed off after that. assuming you’re still asleep in the bedroom, shigure begrudgingly picks up where you both left off, digging through the scattered pieces of paper in front of him until a neat pile underneath catches his eye. it looks familiar save for the sticky notes that weren’t there before. he flips through the pages to find more post-its - some strategically placed while the others, carelessly. when he recognizes them as your annotations, a comforting warmth blooms in his chest. “i wasn’t sure if i could write on it.” the sound of your voice breaks him out of his reverie and he turns to you with a smirk. “interested in being my new editor?” he suggestively asks but you only snort at the mock offer. “considering how you’re capable of singlehandedly giving your current one a heart attack, i think i’ll pass.” as fate would have it, shigure’s phone goes off and it’s the person in question. catching a glint of mischief in shigure’s eyes, you immediately scold him, “be nice.”

you’re too busy admiring HATORI’s side profile as he appears to be engrossed in yet again another book that you flinch when he suddenly speaks. “you want something.” “….maybe.” putting the paperback away, he looks at you expectantly over his reading glasses. “does your hair ever bother you?” you run a hand through his fringe, twisting a few strands around your fingers, “it’s covering your eyes. i wanna see them better.” “they’re just purple,” he deadpans. unimpressed by his remark, you pointedly ignore it and a chuckle soon bubbles past his lips at your reaction - or lack thereof. “what is it that you wanted?” “i think you should put your hair up more often,” you suggest. for someone who’s cynical at times, hatori seems too unsuspecting so you relish in it, carefully raising his glasses by the hinges to push up his bangs, holding them in place like a headband. “if you want, i have some butterfly clips you can use,” you teasingly add. as you expected, he pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing in exasperation. “you’re lucky i love you.” “and i love you.” you press a chaste kiss on one of his eyelids then another - more lingering this time - over his blind eye. “i love all of you, tori.”

#🍊.txt #fruits basket #fruits basket headcanons #fruits basket imagine #fruits basket x reader #kyo sohma #kyo sohma x reader #kyo x reader #yuki sohma #yuki sohma x reader #yuki x reader #shigure sohma #shigure sohma x reader #shigure x reader #hatori sohma #hatori sohma x reader #hatori x reader

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luveline · 3 years ago

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a special friend, part two [Fred Weasley, George Weasley x reader]

tags: reader-insert, platonic relationships, friendship, can be read as romantic for either or both, hurt/comfort, mental health issues, implied/referenced self-harm, dissociation, quiet reader, shy reader, sad reader

relationships: fred weasley x reader, george weasley x reader

wordcount: 3.2k

read part one here

The common room was always so clean. The house-elves must work themselves half to death with effort, as you never saw a hair or speck of dust where there ought not to be one. The small refreshment table filled and refilled through every new day and the fireplace was always roaring on cold winter nights. It was especially cold that evening, and so the members of Gryffindor house benefited from a crackling fire and hot chocolate coming out of the ears.

You basked in the warmth of the flame, sitting cross-legged before it. A cup of hot chocolate cooled in between your hands, which were both laden with bandaids and germolene. Fred and George’s orders, of course. You were not to scratch, bite or mess in any detrimental way with your hands, arms or skin. If you did, you were to report to them for immediate bandaging.

At first, they’d simply been spelling each wound away. This had an opposite effect, as the freshly healed skin was perfect for picking whenever your mood turned - which was often. You found yourself blinded and basked in the light of being cared for by others, and although you may have preferred complete autonomy over your own body, you couldn’t say you minded the attentiveness of the twins. They’d made it their personal mission to prevent any self-harm, accidental or purposeful. You weren’t sure you even knew the difference half the time.

A quiet had settled over the room. It seemed as though each red and gold student was content to breathe in the smell of chestnut and pine in peaceful, companionable silence. You found yourself smiling kindly at each person who looked your way. You couldn’t imagine having done that before you had become acquainted with the twins.

Acquainted was a word you used to protect yourself. Friendly was too confident, too firm. You sometimes dreamt of horror stories where you, confident and comfortable, admitted how much you cared for them. In these dreams, they laughed in your face. Poked fun at your hope.

Of course, Fred and George weren’t cruel. If they felt that way, they certainly wouldn’t rub it in your face or make you feel embarrassed about it. But some shame never went away, and you carried it like an ever-burning torch.

Despite the pleasant warmth of the room, chills racked your spine at the thought. You pushed it from your head, attempting to think of anything else. You traced a pattern through the braided strands of the rug you were lazing upon, first the flames of a bonfire towering ten feet tall, then a mirror of the powdered sugar landscape outside.

Two warm bodies settled in the carpet on either side of you. A long arm wrapped around your shoulders confidently. The floral scent of your perfume mingled with the strong scent of burning caramel and something woody, the signature fragrance of the Weasley twins.

George moved first, plonking a stuffed toy into your lap. He positioned the neck carefully so that the teddy bear was sat as comfortable as you were.

“For you,” said Fred.

“An early Christmas gift,” George added.

The bear was spotted unusually like some sort of hybrid creature. You wondered where they could possibly have acquired such an artefact.

“We saw him and thought of you,” they said together.

That was rich. And maybe correct. After all, it was a weird looking plushie and you weren’t exactly renowned for your normality. You didn’t say much, simply handing off your cold drink to George without so much as a sideways glance and brought the bear to your face. You grazed your nose against its brown stomach and inhaled, breathing in its clean scent.

Both twins were used to the general quietness that came with your presence and didn’t pressure any response. You knew you should’ve said thank you, or even smiled gratefully, but you just couldn’t make your mouth move the way you wanted. You placed your hand on each brothers leg and applied the barest amount of pressure, hoping it showed gratitude.

“Well, I’m starving.”

“I’m so glad you said so, my brother.”

“Yes, I’m craving something savory, Gred.”

“Something juicy, Forge.”

“Such as?”

You looked between them like a muggle attending a tennis match, back and forth and back and forth. They ran circles around you for their own enjoyment, you assumed, but maybe also to make you feel more included.

“Y/N, fancy a trek to the kitchens?”

Before you could say no, or yes, or make up your mind and decide what it was you wanted to do, your stomach growled. Fred grinned wickedly.

They ushered you out of the portrait hole and down the stairs without preamble, flanking your sides like bodyguards. You didn’t mind, taking time to smile at the castle ghosts and portraits as you went.

The twins shot each other looks when they thought you couldn’t see. One said, how do you think she is? Another said, I think she’s however you think she is. Both said, she seems okay today.

It would feel a little patronizing if it weren’t so foreign - to have people care about your well-being so deeply they made changes to their day to see you and went out of their way to make you feel good; you’d find it condescending if it wasn’t so delightful.

That is to say, you felt conflicted. Happy that somebody cared, ashamed that they also felt concerned. They worried over everything these days, what you ate and what classes you had and oh, ghostie, do you need help with that? Y/N, sweetheart, let me carry that for you, lest your arms grow too tired.

It was… nice. It was nice, even if it was painful. Sometimes, it reminded you why you didn’t allow yourself the pleasure of friendship in the first place.

You hummed to yourself. Making sound had become a little easier. You weren’t inclined to say a whole lot, but allowing yourself to be louder, to take up space, had come easier the longer you spent with them. Neither Fred nor George minded if you huffed after too many stairs or if you clicked gobstones together at the foot of their beds.

The song was one of those cheesy Christmas numbers you’d heard on the radio. It was warm and comforting, bringing tears to your eyes if you thought about it too much. George slipped into song with you easily, humming much more loudly and obnoxiously. Fred just grinned to himself, keeping dutiful watch of the corridors.

You bubbled like a shaken can of coke by the time you arrived at the painting that enclosed the kitchen doorway, feeling too happy for your own good. Despite feeling very hungry, not a lick of fatigue or unhappiness tinged your mood, though the fuzzy numbness of every day threatened your well-being if you stopped to think too long.

The door swung open obediently after your half-hearted tickle insisted upon by the boys.

“What do you feel like, Y/N, sweet or savoury? There’s bound to be something you’ll fancy,” George said.

You held in a grimace. There were lots of things you wanted to try, the kitchens smelled like so many amazing things. The cloying smells of jam and treacle and custard, the hearty scents of gravy and roast dinner. It was too bad, then, that most everything you ate tasted stale. For years, your tastebuds had been slacking. During your worst days, food held no taste at all, resulting in your decreased appetite.

A tingling began in your fingers. You didn’t know what to say, or how to say it, how to convey that you didn’t really feel up to anything at all. You knew they would protest as they always did when you didn’t eat.

“Bread,” you managed. Bread was a safe choice. Dense enough to feel filling, easy to keep down, and bland to begin with.

Both boys were frowning but trying not to at your choice.

George moved forward, catching the attention of a harrowed looking house elf. They conversed with familiarity and soon you were being beckoned to a table that was relatively clear. Within minutes you were surrounded by bread, crusty rolls and sliced sourdough.

George casually nudged a bowl of tomato soup in your direction.

The surface shined with grease. It even had a swirl of cream and a sprig of basil afloat.

He looked at you, eyes pleading.

“You too,” you said.

This appeased him. The boys sat across from you with their own bowls, eating in the horrific way that teenage boys do. By the time they’d finished, you’d managed half of your own meal and two slices of bread. The nausea you experienced from just existing was starting to build, accompanied by the disappointment of your bland meal. You’d hoped an improved mood would help your appetite, but you still felt unsatisfied.

The boys grabbed a passing plate of tarts and ice cream.

Your good mood was wearing thin. You bit down on the tip of your thumb and stared at the grain of the table.

You bit down harder.

“Hey. Hey! Don’t do that,” Fred said, reaching forward as if to grab your hand. You pushed it under the table.

George pushed the plate of confectionary closer to you. “Chew on one of these instead, hm?”

You took it all back - this was patronising. Lovely and thoughtful and very, excruciatingly patronising.

You didn’t want to say no, or push it away, or eat anything else or even laugh it off. You wanted to do nothing. You lay your head down on the table, closing your eyes. You caught a murmur or two between them, though you couldn’t make out the words with your ear pressed so hard against the wood and the other covered by your falling hair. The table was smooth and cool under your skin.

A chair scraped against the floor. Footsteps. A broad hand against your back.

“You’re like a steam train running out of coal sometimes.”

You knew he was hoping for a response, a joke, a sign you’d been cheered up.

Through slow blinks, you could make out his face. Endlessly amused and a little sad, framed by the candlelight. He was beautiful, you thought absently. They were both beautiful.

“You okay?” he said quietly.

“Mm,”

“Mm? Is mm a yes or a no?”

“Mm,”

“Alright,” he said, rubbing a soothing path up between your shoulder blades and down again. It would’ve been dizzying if you could think straight, it made the numbness a little woozy. You preened beneath his touch like a pleased cat, feeling the unhappiness melt just a little.

It was crazy how affection could make you feel better, even if it didn’t always solve the problem.

Embarrassed, you mumbled, “you’re going to kill me.”

Fred smiled. “How so?”

“You’re fattening me up like a lamb to slaughter.”

He didn’t quite laugh, huffing through his nose. He really was very handsome up close. His hair was curling at just below his ears, a lush auburn colour that complemented his pale, freckle adorned skin. His eyes were a heart-melting brown so that his pupils were lost. The look he gave you was searing like he knew exactly what you were thinking about him. Your ears were tinged with heat, cheeks filling with colour.

He retracted his hand.

“Wrap some of those up, Georgie. Ghostie needs her bed.”

“It shall be done, brother mine!”

You smiled despite yourself.

For your birthday, the twins had gifted you a simple necklace. The chain was silver, reaching to just below your collar bone. It had no charm or jewel. It was perfect.

It helped you sometimes when you felt out of it to run it between two fingers or tug it gently from left to right, feeling the chain links rolling behind your neck.

You’d tried that, among every other coping mechanism drilled into your head by George and Fred over the past few weeks. You drew circles were you wanted to scratch, put plasters over fingertips you wanted to pick at. You took big breaths and did the stretches George insisted on. You even tried getting a full night’s sleep - nothing worked.

It filled you with guilt. You felt as though you were letting them both down by struggling.

You stared out the window of the dormitory at the sky, moonlight spilling onto your skin and staining your clothes a gauzy silver. You’d read once that sometimes when the planets were in rotation, you could see them as though they were as close as the moon.

This didn’t seem right to you. How could Mars seem so close? It was an optical illusion. The planets revolved around the sun, but humans had once thought they revolved around Earth instead.

It must’ve been a very strange experience to realise you weren’t as important as you thought. The Earth was just the Earth, spinning and wobbling its path through space.

You shook your head, feeling lost. It was ridiculous to project your feelings on the solar system. But still, you couldn’t help but feel like, despite its inhabitants and its systems, the Earth was so lonely.

Your necklace began to grow cold until it was almost like ice against your skin. One of the twins, or maybe both, had charmed it to change temperature. Cold usually meant, ‘Ghostie, you awake?’

You cringed against the sensation. Why couldn’t they booty call you like normal young men, throwing stones at your window with a boom box? Or, for merlin’s sake, an owl?

You grumbled to yourself, throwing the fleece blanket from your body. You were hardly dressed for company in knickers and a tank top, so you threw on a grey zip-up jacket and a pair of pyjama shorts that were hardly any better than the knickers. Luckily the jacket hung past the shorts. You wanted to care that you were dressed scantily, really, but the boys wouldn’t care and you didn’t have it in you to find something else.

You trekked down the stairs, your trainer socks slippery against the well-worn wood. Fred stretched languidly in front of the fireplace, a pack of exploding snap cards and a mountain of chocolate frogs beside him whilst George was sitting much more straight-backed on the sofa.

“I’m cold,” you said, announcing your arrival. The redheads turned to look at you over their shoulders. Fred rolled his eyes at you and flicked his wand. The necklace slowly heated until it was pleasantly warm against your collarbones.

You clambered over the back of the sofa with little grace, folding your knees underneath you and leaning heavily against George’s arm. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

“If I were a lesser man, I’d ask where your bottoms were, Y/L/N,” said Fred, shuffling the cards dexterously.

You raised your jacket wordlessly, exposing your bottoms.

“Wouldn’t you know, they were there the whole time.”

“You assumed the same as me, George.”

George didn’t reply, though his expression said he was similarly embarrassed.

“And do you always let girls you presume to be half-naked climb all over you?” you asked.

“So talkative,” George chastened.

“Don’t change the subject! I’m interested in the answer,” said Fred.

“Oh shove off! You insufferable tyrants.”

Ah, so he knows how it feels now, you thought. You looked up into his face, the line of his jaw.

You looked down at your legs, feeling fatigued. Smooth stretches of skin and fine hair interrupted only by thin white lines. The low light made them almost impossible to see. They shined like silver when you moved, caught by the light of a nearby candle. They felt a lifetime away now when a young you had used pins and quills and little carving knives to punish yourself for bad behaviour.

You traced a slightly thicker one with a pointed fingernail. You pushed it nastily into the scar, but it didn’t hurt.

You sighed.

Fred and George were half arguing about something you didn’t catch, Fred through a mouthful of chocolate.

It was hard, always being miserable. People often criticized the moody for ruining the mood, but it wasn’t as if you could choose how to be. You wanted to wake each day and be happy and entertaining and absurdly good-natured, like the twins. It was an abject cruelty, then, that every day you woke up and felt the immeasurable dread of continuing on another day. Not even magic could help you with that.

You rejected Fred’s offer to play, happy to sit and watch the boys play. You let yourself slide into the space George had vacated, curling into a tight ball. Your stomach hurt.

Godric, there was always something fucking wrong with you.

You were frustrated. The boys could tell. Their game of snap was stretched thin, and you knew it was your fault. You wrinkled your nose at the smell of singed hair, restless. You squirmed against the warm leather under your skin, feeling sticky and out of sorts.

You closed your eyes against the aching and slept.

You woke up crying.

Fred shifted in his sleep. He was leaning against your legs, his hair and face smushed into the leather beneath you. George was facedown in the carpet. You pressed a hand to your mouth to muffle any sound.

The clock on the wall read 4 minutes past 4 o’clock in the morning. You’d only managed an hour and a half of sleep.

You couldn’t remember what you’d been dreaming. Maybe somewhere familiar. Faces you recognized. It didn’t matter, only the feeling of being crushed by the air. You reached out without thinking, grabbing Fred’s shoulder.

He roused gracelessly, blinking through squinted eyes at you. A hard sob rocked you to the core, the feeling of breathlessness sinking deep into your chest.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurting?”

You couldn’t answer. You grasped for his arm, begging him to do something, to save you. You felt as though you were going to run out of air.

“Hey, you’re alright. You’re okay. Let’s breathe, should we? Breathe with me.” He grabbed the hand you’d pushed over your mouth and brought it to his chest. You could feel him take a huge inhale and you tried your best to replicate it.

“Good! That’s good. You’re doing so well.” Another big breath, a long exhale.

“You feel that? The leather under you.” He grabbed your free hand and put it on the seat. “Feels weird, huh? Dimples and wrinkles.” He dragged your hand over the texture repeatedly.

A big breath.

Eventually, your breathing returned. The crying stayed.

“Don’t cry, ghost.”

You frowned. It was odd to be looking down at Fred instead of up. He pressed your hand tighter to his chest.

“Bad dream?”

“Don’t remember,” you whispered.

“It was just a dream. You’re okay. I promise.”

George snored. Fred rolled his eyes. You laughed through the tears, blinking the last of them away.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll be here.”

You knew he was telling the truth.

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