#he does it all out of the goodness of his heart

[classyrbf]

PART 2 OF PRISONER!GETO

prisoner!geto who can’t stop thinking about late at night, getting so worked up and horny, the most horny he’s been in a while. He’s pulling his pants down, closing his eyes while he pictures the way your scrubs clung to your body and showed off your ass. He thanks god he doesn’t have a bunkie or else he’d be in a real awkward position. He purposely gets into another fight a week later, the wound on his lip opening back up. He’s smiling to himself as he gets walked to the infirmary knowing he’ll see you there.

“Not you again,” you sigh.

“Told you I’d see you soon, doctor.” He sits on the small bed, watching as you put on gloves and examine his busted lip. He can tell you’re avoiding eye contact with him, trying your hardest to ignore his stares and slight touches. “Have you thought about my offer yet?” He asks.

You gulp, blinking as you rub the ointment over his wound. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” You play stupid, but you remember your last conversation so clearly. It makes you nervous. All he does is laugh.

“Come on. I’ll even beg.” He grabs your wrist, slowing pulling it down, a smug smirk on his handsome face. “You telling me you haven’t thought about it once since we last seen each other?” He whispers. He parts his legs, pulling you in between them. And god, you smell so good. So sweet. He could just eat you up right here.

You stand there, unable to form words because as much as you want to say no, you want to say yes. He makes your heart race and your pussy wet. What a sly bastard. With his stupid tattoos, muscles, hair and chiseled face. You hate how much effect he has on you.

“Listen,” he rubs a hand down your waist, “meet me in the supply closet by the showers during lunchtime if you’re really down.” He flashed a smile before standing to his feet and walking out the infirmary. “Bye, bye, doctor.”

Come lunchtime, you walked through the halls of the prison, mentally cursing at yourself. It’s just one time, one time. You bet he won’t even be there, that he’s just playing a stupid joke cause he’s bored with himself. And as you reach out to open the supply door, your heart beats against your ribcage, looking around to find the halls empty. You step in, seeing him leaning against the wall, the faint rays of light allowing you to make out some of his features. “Well, look who it is,” he chuckles. “Came here to help me out, doc?” He walks over to you, trapping you between him and the door.

“Shut up already and let’s get it over with.” You smash your lips on his, kissing him with such urgency and fervor. His large hands grab at your ass, squeezing and groping it as he pushes you against the wall, knocking a few things over. You both pull away, breathing heavily, lips swollen. “We gotta be quick,” you whisper, undoing his jumpsuit while he pulls down your pants.

“More eager than I am, huh?” He teases, earning an eye roll from you. “Come here.” He bends you over the small wooden table, snatching your panties off and getting a good feel of your ass. His dick jumps, pre cum already leaking from the swollen tip. He’s already so worked up, so ready to feel your wet and tight cunt. “Fuck,” he grunts, running his head over your sopping slit, nudging your clit slightly. “Already so fucking wet.”

He pushes his throbbing tip past your folds, a small gasp leaving your lips when you feel how thick he is. Inch by inch you feel the stretch, you mouth agape as you try and grow accustomed to his size. Geto’s entire body shivers, his fingers pressing into your skin so hard you’re sure he’d leave marks. “Ohhh shit,” he lets out a shaky breath. God, it’s been so fucking long since he’s had some good pussy and he can already tell he won’t last long. He finally bottoms out, feeling your walls clench around his length, sucking him in. “My god,” he laughs in your ear. “Lemme just enjoy this feeling—fuckkk—for a moment,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut.

He finally starts moving his hips, feeling his tip press against your cervix with each thrust. With each passing second, he gets faster, fucking your harder and rougher, your pussy has got him in a trance. “Pussy feels so fucking good,” he grips your hips, pulling you back towards him so you can meet his thrusts. One of his hands reach around your throat, gripping it just enough as he pulls you back against his broad chest. “Do you fuck all of your patients or am I just special?” He jokes.

“Mmmm…shut—ah—up!” You cry out, whimpering when he presses up against you, finding a new angle that makes your eyes roll back. “Just keep fucking me,”you say with a raspy breath.

“Doctors orders.” He can feel the way your pussy leaks, your juices dripping down his shaft and make his cock ache like never before. It almost hurts. He hold you tighter against him, the sound of skin on skin filling the small room. “You take it so well,” he breathes against your skin, pressing wet kisses to your neck. “So fucking well.” His thrusts grow sloppier, chasing his own orgasm. But in the distance, he hears the guards walking down the hall. “Shh, shh, shh.” His hand covers your mouth, his thrusts becoming slow and deep, letting you feel every inch of his cock, every vein, every pulse before hitting that sweet spot deep inside of you.

Your eyes squeeze shut, trying your hardest to keep quiet, the guard getting closer and closer. Their keys jingle with each step and their voices grow louder. “Atta girl. You feel how fucking deep I am…shiittt. Keep fucking squeezing me like that—yeah, yeah you’re gonna make me fucking cum.” His brows furrow as he bites down as his bottom lip in attempts to contain his moans, but his abs tense up and his entire body shakes before he’s filling you up, stuffing you with his sticky, hot cum. “No, no, don’t you dare move. Just like thattt, oh yes!” His eyes roll back, still cumming. His pushes his cum deeper inside of you, feeling it leak back out before he finally pulls out.

Geto truly wishes he could’ve had more time with you. His mouth drooling over the mere thought of how you taste, wanting to make you cum on his tongue, but for now he’ll have to settle for this. “You came inside me, asshole!” You pull your pants back up, turning to face him.

“Couldn’t let it go to waste.” He reaches out and stroke your cheek. “Right?”

“Whatever.” You swat his hand away. “Where are my underwear?” You look around the dimly lit room before realizing he was holding them.

“I’ll be keeping these for later,” he swung them in your face before stuffing them in his pocket.

“You’re such a pervert.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You have my cum running down your leg right now.” He places a finger under your chin, tilting it towards him as he leans down and kisses you slowly, his tongue sliding over yours before catching your bottom lip. “Mmm, thank you, doctor.” He smiles before kissing you once more.

You push him off of you, trying to process everything you just did right now. It was so wrong but it felt so right, so good, so intoxicating. “If it makes you feel any better, I get out in six months.”

“No. This was a one time thing.” You place a hand on his chest, shaking your head.

“Was it? Cause I don’t think it was. Not with the way your pussy was squeezing around me. It was almost like she was made for me.” He cups your face, forcing you to look at him. His eyes searches yours, a smile forming at the corner of his lips. “Yeah…it definitely isn’t the last time.”

[hoshifighting]

𖧷 crybaby

— synopsis: seungcheol can’t help but be a crybaby every time you break his heart, yet he always comes running back to you, desperate for your attention. even when you leave him cold for days or push him away, he can’t seem to stay away. his friends and family don’t get it—they hate how you treat him.

— WC: 4.6k — WARNINGS: agnst, smut, emotionallly detached!reader, emotionally attached!seungcheol, crying, he kind of pisses his friends and family out because of his whiny ass, explicit language, blowjob, cock riding, clit stimulation, face slapping, choking. — inspired by: cry baby by megan thee stallion — ''his friends and his dad hate me, I broke his lil' heart, he's a crybaby"

seungcheol was such a fucking crybaby. like, how does a man that big, that beefy, built like he could crush a watermelon between his thighs, have the emotional resilience of a damp tissue? 5′10 of pure gym dedication and somehow, here he was, sulking like a kicked puppy in the corner of his own damn birthday party. honestly, you broke his heart so many times you’d lost count, but the man was like a boomerang—always came back. didn’t matter how hard you threw him.

his friends absolutely hated you. well, maybe hate was strong—more like they hated how he acted because of you. jeonghan said you lived rent-free in his head, which you knew was true. but the real kicker was his family. they couldn’t stand hearing your name. apparently, he cried into his whiskey glass over you at his last family dinner. like, straight-up sniffles and shaky voice in front of his dad. the boys’ nights weren’t any better; they’d barely crack open a soju bottle before seungcheol was teary-eyed, rambling about you like you were the love of his life and not the emotional hurricane you were.

but that’s the thing, though. seungcheol was built for family. the whole package—white picket fence, Sunday brunches, PTA meetings. meanwhile, you were emotionally unavailable as fuck. couldn’t even commit to a favorite boba flavor, let alone a relationship. and now, you’d ghosted him for a week. a whole-ass week. no texts, no calls, not even the stupid memes you usually sent him at 3 a.m.

today was his birthday. his fucking birthday.

the party at his place was in full swing—laughter, good food, good drinks, jeonghan and mingyu lowkey roasting him about his “girlfriend” (air quotes and all). his parents were there too, of course. his brother had even flown in. but cheol barely moved from the couch all night. just sat there, one arm slung over the backrest, looking at his phone like a guy waiting for a miracle.

because in his head, if you were his girlfriend—like, properly his—you’d be here. with him. celebrating, holding his hand, maybe sitting in his lap. but instead, he got radio silence.

“bro, seriously, what the fuck is your problem?” jeonghan hissed, leaning over the couch to snatch the beer from cheol’s hand. “your mom’s asking why you look like you’re about to cry into the birthday cake.”

“i’m fine,” cheol muttered, but even he didn’t sound convinced.

“no, you’re not. you’ve checked your phone like a hundred times, and it’s giving ‘sad loser.’ cut it out before mingyu makes a meme out of you.”

but cheol didn’t cut it out. he just stared at the screen, lips pulled into a pout so tragic it could’ve been a fucking Greek play. the hours dragged. one by one, people started leaving, and eventually, it wasn’t even his birthday anymore.

august 9th. 9:54 p.m.

cheol sighed, running a hand through his hair, looking like he was about to combust.

and then, his phone buzzed.

one message.

from: future girlfriend ❤️ - “come over.”

that’s it. two words, no explanation. cheol shot up from the couch so fast he nearly knocked over the coffee table.

jeonghan raised an eyebrow. “where the hell are you going?”

cheol didn’t answer. he was already grabbing his keys, muttering something about how he’d “she texted me.”

he hard his friend groan out in defeat, disappointment, some even surprised that seungcheol would leave his own party like that.

while you were still just chilling at your place, sitting there like nothing had happened, waiting to see if this man who you’d left on read for a week would actually show up.

spoiler alert—he would.

the door wasn’t even locked—like you’d left it wide open for him, knowing he’d come running the second you told him to. seungcheol stepped inside your apartment, and it was so you in a way that made his chest tighten. that familiar scent? god, it was everywhere. in the air, clinging to the couch, the walls, probably gonna soak into his clothes and stay there for days, torturing him. like you’d marked your territory without even trying.

he moved on autopilot, his feet carrying him down the hallway to your bedroom like he didn’t even need directions. the door was cracked open, and he froze for a second when he saw you.

you were standing there, slipping a sheer robe over your shoulders—transparent. and it wasn’t doing a damn thing to hide you. the way the fabric barely skimmed over your hips, nipples peeking through, leading his eyes all the way down to the hem that just teased your thighs… it was insane.

you turned your head slightly, catching him in the doorway like some kind of lost puppy. your expression was unreadable, but he looked at you like you were magic or something—eyes wide, lips slightly parted. pathetic.

you stepped toward him, and before he could even process it, his hands moved to your waist like they belonged there. your arms looped lazily around his neck, and the warmth of your skin had his breath hitching. you glanced over his shoulder at the clock on the wall—10:01 p.m.—then met his gaze, your lips curling.

“happy birthday… birthday boy,” you said, your voice smooth as velvet.

he exhaled shakily, his eyes fluttering shut like the sound of your voice was too much. his brows knit together in that pitiful little frown you’d missed more than you cared to admit.

“why’d you leave me like that?” he muttered, voice cracking slightly. “did… did i do something? i’m sorry, i—”

you didn’t answer, didn’t even flinch, because honestly? you didn’t have a reason. there was no deep, dark explanation, no hidden agenda. you just did.

instead, you pushed him backward toward the bed, your hands firm on his chest. he stumbled slightly but kept talking, his voice climbing higher in pitch.

“please, just—just tell me. what did i do? i can fix it, i swear, just—”

you pushed him harder this time, and he landed on the bed with a bounce. he stared up at you, eyes glassy, lips trembling. “answer me,” he whined, his voice soft and desperate.

“shhh,” you hushed, pressing a finger to his lips.

he whimpered at the touch, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “why—why won’t you just—”

your hand came down on his cheek in a sharp slap. not too hard, but enough to make him moan, his mouth falling open in a perfect little “o.”

“quiet,” you said firmly, watching as his expression shifted. the sting seemed to zap the fight out of him, his mouth closing into a pout as his tears spilled over.

“aww,” you cooed, leaning down to brush your thumb under his eye. “don’t cry, birthday boy. let me give you a gift.”

his gaze flickered immesiately. a gift? he nodded eagerly.

“you gonna be good for me?” you asked, tilting your head.

“y-yeah,” he stammered, his voice so small it made you smile.

your hands moving to his belt. the way he watched you, like you were about to destroy his dignity, was almost comical.

you tugged his pants and underwear down in with a graceful sweep, leaving him bare and exposed. his cock was already rock hard, flushed red and leaking precum that smeared against his stomach.

“look at you,” you teased, wrapping a hand around the base. his breath hitched at the contact, his hips jerking slightly. “crying all over yourself, huh?”

he let out a choked whimper, his hands fisting the sheets beside him. “i—i can’t help it,” he whispered.

“poor baby,” you mocked, your thumb swiping over the tip to collect the sticky wetness. his whole body twitched at the motion, his eyes squeezing shut as more tears slipped down his cheeks.

you leaned down, letting your lips hover just above him. “you’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you? never let you have it before, but tonight… you’re special.”

he nodded frantically, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. “please,” he begged, his voice breaking.

you smiled, finally taking him into your mouth. the heat and wetness made him sob outright, his hands flying to your hair but stopping short—like he was scared to touch you without permission.

“oh—fuck, fuck, fuck,” he babbled, his thighs trembling as you worked him over. your tongue dragged along the veins as your hand played with his balls, and he keened, his head falling back against the pillows.

“so good,” he choked out, tears streaming down his face. “m-missed you.”

you hummed around him, and the vibrations nearly sent him over the edge. his whole body tensed, his hips bucking slightly as he moaned your name.

“gonna be good for me?” you asked, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze.

“y-yes,” he stammered, his eyes glassy and desperate. “so good, i’ll be so good, please—”

“then take it,” you said, and he did.

your tongue swirled around the swollen tip of his cock, drawing a shuddering breath out of him that turned into a whimper when you pulled back slightly, letting a string of spit connect your lips to his flushed skin. his chest heaved, his abs clenching under the weight of your stare.

you fold your tongue up and slid along the underside of his length, like you had all the time in the world. his thighs trembled as you worked your way down, your nails scratching lightly along the sides of his hips, keeping him still. by the time you reached his base, his whole body was taut, his hands fisted so tightly into the sheets you thought he might rip them.

“you’re so sensitive,” you murmured, letting your breath ghost over his skin.

“i can’t—” he choked, cutting himself off with a high-pitched moan when your tongue flicked over the soft skin of his balls.

you smiled against him, pressing a kiss to one of the heavy globes before taking it into your mouth, sucking gently. his hips jerked off the bed, but your hand pressed firmly against his stomach, pinning him down.

“stay still,” you ordered.

“i’m trying—fuck, i’m trying,” he babbled, his voice cracking. his head lolled to the side, his lips parted in a silent cry as you continued to suck and lick at him, your tongue tracing slow, wet circles.

your free hand moved back to his cock, wrapping around the shaft and stroking it slowly, your thumb smearing the precum that was steadily leaking from the tip.

“look at me,” you said, your voice softer this time.

his eyes fluttered open, glassy and red-rimmed, his gaze locking onto yours. the sight of you, lips wrapped around him, your hand working him in tandem, had him letting out a desperate, broken sound that went straight to your core.

“you like this?” you asked, pulling back slightly, your hand still stroking him as you kissed along his inner thigh.

“yes,” he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper. “fuck, yes. feels so good.”

“yeah?” you teased, your lips quirking into a smirk as you nipped at his skin. “you’ve been waiting for this? waiting for me to touch you like this?”

he nodded frantically, “always,” he admitted. “always wanted you like this. please don’t stop.”

you purred, letting your tongue glide back up to his base before taking him into your mouth again, this time deeper, letting him feel the heat of your throat. “fuck—oh my god,” he sobbed, his hands twitching at his sides, like he wanted to touch you but didn’t dare.

“go on,” you encouraged, pulling off just enough to speak. “touch me. you’re being good, aren’t you?”

his hands immediately flew to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he let out another choked moan. “yes,” he breathed, “yes, so good, i’ll be so good for you.”

you hollowed your cheeks, bobbing your head slowly, your hand working in time with your movements. his thighs shook beneath you, his breath hitching every time your tongue pressed against the sensitive vein running along the underside of his cock.

“you’re so fucking pretty like this,” you said, pulling back just enough to let your spit-coated hand continue stroking him. “all flushed and crying for me. does it feel that good?”

“so good!” he gasped, tears spilling over again as he bucked his hips involuntarily.

you hummed in approval, your tongue flicking over the tip before dipping lower again, taking one of his balls into your mouth once more. the way his entire body shook beneath you, his voice breaking into desperate little cries—it was everything.

“you’re mine,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his skin. “aren’t you?”

“yours!” he sobbed, his voice cracking. “all yours...”

you pulled back, your lips slick with spit and precum, watching as seungcheol’s chest heaved like he’d just run a marathon. his head was tilted back against the pillows, mouth slightly open, a trail of drool glistening at the corner of his lips. his cock twitched in your hand, still throbbing and leaking like it couldn’t survive a second without you.

“cheol,” you said, your voice sharp enough to cut through the haze.

he didn’t answer. his eyes were half-lidded, rolling back as another pathetic whimper slipped past his lips.

“yah,” you hissed, your free hand moving down to cup his balls, squeezing them just enough to snap him out of it.

he jerked, his hips twitching as a choked cry tore from his throat. his wide, glassy eyes met yours, full of confusion, like he wasn’t sure whether to apologize or beg for more.

“you listening now?” you asked, your tone playful but firm.

“y-yeah,” he stammered.

you smirked, leaning forward just enough to let your breath fan over his cock. “good. now, tell me—do you want me to make you cum like this?” your hand gave his length a slow, deliberate stroke, watching as his eyes fluttered shut again. “or do you want me to ride you?”

his eyes snapped open at the second option, but he still didn’t answer. his mouth opened and closed like he was trying to speak but couldn’t get the words out, and you swore he looked like a little kid trying to pick between candy flavors.

“cheol,” you said again, your grip on his balls tightening just enough to make him yelp. “i’m not giving you both, so choose. now.”

he whimpered, his lower lip trembling as he looked at you like you were some kind of goddess and he didn’t want to disappoint.

“i—i want…” he trailed off, his voice cracking as his cock twitched in your hand again.

“come on,” you urged. “use your words, birthday boy.”

his cheeks flushed deeper, and he swallowed hard before finally stammering out, “i want you to ride me.”

“do you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as your hand gave him one last teasing stroke.

“mhmm,” he breathed, his voice shaky but certain. “please. want to feel you. need to—need to be close to you.”

you smiled, your chest swelling. “good boy,” you murmured, releasing him completely and watching as he whimpered at the cut-off.

you climbed onto the bed, straddling his hips as his hands immediately flew to your thighs, gripping them like he was scared you’d disappear—again. the way his eyes roamed over your body, taking in every inch of exposed skin through the transparency of the robe, and the big slit that have been created as the robe opened up, made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

you reached between your legs, guiding his cock to your entrance, letting the tip tease your folds just enough to have him squirming beneath you.

“mm..fuck” he groaned, his head falling back against the pillows. “you’re so wet. is that—fuck, is that for me?”

“all for you,” you lied, he knew you were mocking him as you slowly sank down onto him.

the stretch was so good, never fails to make you arch your back, his cock filled you so perfectly had your breath hitching. but the sound he made was way down pathetic. it was half moan, half sob, like he couldn’t believe this was real.

“oh my god,” he choked, his hands flying to your waist as his hips jerked involuntarily. “you’re so—so tight. best birthday gift ever.”

you rolled your hips slowly, letting him feel every inch of your gummy walls, and his grip tightened, you can feel his strong fingers marking your meat.

“you like being used like this?”

“yes!” he gasped, his voice high and broken. “love it. love you.”

you froze for half a second, the words catching you off guard, but you quickly recovered, your lips curling into a smirk. “that so?”

“yeah,” he breathed, his eyes squeezing shut as you started to move again. “fuck, i love you. love everything about you.”

every roll of your hips, pulled more sounds from him than you thought possible—moans, gasps, sobs, all spilling from his lips like a declaration.

your hips moved in a steady rhythm, dragging his cock in and out of you in a way that made your thighs burn, but the way seungcheol looked at you—like you were the fucking universe—made it impossible to stop. you clenched around him, squeezing tightly, and his mouth fell open, a strained whimper spilling out as his fingers dug into your hips as you rocked your pussy back and forth.

you pushed his shirt up higher, your eyes falling on his chest, where his nipples were flushed a deep red against his tan skin. his brows furrowed in confusion when he noticed your gaze.

“what?” he asked, his voice hoarse and breathless.

“you don’t even know, do you?” you teased, your nails trailing up his chest. “how red they get when you’re about to cum?”

“what?” he repeated, his tone higher this time, all embarassed.

“oh, baby,” you cooed, leaning down to brush your lips against his. “you’re so fucking cute.”

his face flushed even deeper, and you felt his cock twitch inside you as your hands wrapped around his neck. his eyes widened immediately, his breath hitching as he stared up at you, his lips parted in surprise.

“you like this?” you asked, your grip tightening just enough to make his pulse race beneath your fingers.

he let out a strangled moan, his hands flying up to your thighs like he didn’t know whether to stop you or hold on tighter. “y-yeah,” he stammered, his voice cracking. “fuck, yeah.”

“then be good for me, cum for me, cheol. now.”

his entire body tensed, his hips jerking up. you clenched around him again, your grip on his neck firm as you ground down harder as the first waves of your orgasm hit you.

you raised your hips just in time, letting his cock slip out of you as he spilled all over his stomach, ropes of cum painting his skin. his head fell back against the pillows, his chest heaving as he let out a broken sob, his hands trembling against your thighs.

you collapsed onto his chest, your hand moving between your legs to circle your clit frantically, your moans muffled against his ear as you chased the last remnants of your own orgasm.

“oh my fucking god...” you panted, your fingers working faster as your hips ground against his thigh.

he turned his head slightly, his eyes hazy as he watched you, his lips parted in awe. “you’re…so beautiful...”

you moaned loudly as your orgasm hit you, your body shaking against his as you buried your face in his neck, your hand slowing to a stop.

as the high ebbed away, your body melted into his, your limbs heavy and your breath evening out. you let your full weight settle on him, and he groaned softly, the sound less of discomfort and more of deep, satisfied contentment. his arms came around you instinctively, holding you close, his hands splayed wide against your back like he never wanted to let go.

you lay there, your cheek pressed to his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear. you tried to ignore how your own heart raced, guilt creeping in as you replayed the last week in your head.

sometimes, you really felt like shit about the way you treated him. seungcheol was too good for you, with that big heart of his—always giving, always forgiving. the problem wasn’t him. it was you.

you hoped he couldn’t feel the way your heart thudded against his chest, the weight of your remorse making it beat faster.

you lifted your head slightly, pressing soft kisses to his cheek, your fingers tangling in his hair as you gently scratched at his scalp. he sighed, leaning into your touch like it was the only thing keeping him tethered.

“cheol,” you murmured, your voice softer than you planned. “can i give you one more gift tonight?”

he didn’t answer right away. his eyes drifted to the ceiling, a small, thoughtful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“only one?” he asked after a moment.

you hummed, matching his teasing tone. “yeah. just one. better make it count, birthday boy.”

he chuckled softly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. instead, his gaze stayed fixed on the ceiling, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your back.

“i don’t think you can give me what i really want...” he said finally.

you tilted your head, your brows furrowing. “what do you mean?”

he hesitated before he turned his head to look at you, his eyes searching yours.

“i want to be here with you... but knowing that you… that you actually like me back.”

he held your gaze, his eyes raw and vulnerable, waiting for a response that you didn’t know how to give.

“cheol, you know that right now i—” you started, your voice cracking.

but he shook his head, his lips curving into a small, sad smile. “it’s okay,” he said quickly, though the way his arms tightened around you betrayed his words. “i didn’t mean to ruin the moment. i just… i had to say it.”

you didn’t know what to say. guilt churned in your stomach, your heart pounding against his chest as his words echoed in your head.

he deserved so much more than you could give, and yet here he was, holding you like you were his whole world.

seungcheol let out a shaky breath, his thumb brushing absentmindedly against the curve of your spine. “but since that won’t happen…” he trailed off, his voice wistful.

your chest tightened, the words striking a nerve you weren’t ready to deal with. you stayed silent, pressing your cheek against his shoulder, hoping he couldn’t see the way your brows knitted together.

“can you…” he hesitated, his fingers twitching against your skin. “can you come to my birthday party tonight? i know it’s late, but it’s probably still going. i’d love to see you there.”

you froze. you knew what he was asking—he wanted you to show up for him, to step into his world, even if it made you uncomfortable.

“cheol,” you said slowly, lifting your head to look at him. his expression was expectant.

“please,” he added, whispering in an almost pityful way. “just for a little while. it’s my birthday.”

you bit your lip, glancing away. the idea of walking into a room full of people who probably hated you wasn’t exactly appealing, but the way he looked at you, made it hard to say no.

“fine,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

“really?” he asked, his face lighting up instantly.

“yeah, really,” you said, rolling your eyes.

he sat up, pulling you with him.

you groaned, pushing against his chest. “ugh, fine. let me get ready, then.”

he followed you into the bathroom like a puppy, leaning against the doorway as you washed your face and fixed your hair. his gaze was soft, trailing over you like he was memorizing every detail.

“stop staring,” you said, your tone sharp but lacking any real bite.

“can’t help it,” he replied, his voice warm. “you’re gorgeous.”

you rolled your eyes again, but your cheeks flushed anyway, and you hated how easily he got to you.

“you should get ready too,” you said, pointing at him with a toothbrush in hand.

“i’m fine like this,” he said with a shrug, gesturing to his wrinkled shirt and jeans.

“you’re not showing up to your own party looking like you just got laid,” you shot back, smirking when his ears turned red.

“fine,” he grumbled, shuffling off.

by the time you were both dressed and ready, the nerves in your stomach were in full swing. seungcheol, however, looked ridiculously pleased with himself, his hand finding yours as he led you toward the door.

seungcheol practically vibrated with happiness as he led you up to the front door of his house. he tried so damn hard to play it cool, to keep his steps measured and his grin from stretching too wide. but his chest felt like it might burst at any moment, the thought of walking in with you by his side enough to make him wanna jump like some kind of elf in a fairytale.

this was it. you were here. about to meet his family, his friends. his whole world.

he took a deep breath and opened the door, immediately met with a chorus of voices.

“finally!” jeonghan shouted, throwing his arms up like he’d been waiting for years.

“where the hell have you been?” his brother added exasperatedly.

seungcheol pressed his lips together, holding back a smile as he glanced over his shoulder at you. “i, uh…” he rubbed the back of his neck, glancing down for a second before looking back up, his voice soft but proud. “i needed to bring someone special before the ‘happy birthday.’”

the room fell silent as you stepped out from behind him, your hands clutching the straps of your bag like a lifeline. your small, tentative smile was enough to stop everyone in their tracks.

you shifted awkwardly under the weight of their stares, the sound of the music thumping softly in the background the only thing filling the silence.

and that’s when it hit them.

oh.

this was the reason seungcheol had been acting so out of character, the reason he’d been spiraling for months. you weren’t just some girl he was into. no, you were a fucking vision. gorgeous in a way that made the room seem brighter. mesmerizing without even trying.

now they understood. now it all made sense.

of course he was crazy over you. of course he’d been spiraling. who wouldn’t be?

but the realization also came with a quieter, more awkward truth: this was the girl they’d all cursed out in private. the girl they’d ranted about after every drunken night where seungcheol had cried into his beer or disappeared to avoid them.

they exchanged quick glances. yeah, they got it now, but it didn’t erase the fact that they’d judged you before even meeting you.

a nagging question none of them dared to voice but couldn’t shake.

were you really worth it?

jeonghan, the one who never held his tongue, raised a brow and smirked. “well, shit. now i get it.”

seungcheol’s face flushed a deep red, his hand instinctively finding the small of your back as if to shield you from the inevitable onslaught of teasing.

but instead of cracking a joke, jeonghan just smiled and nodded, his eyes softening. “welcome,” he said, his voice genuine.

the others slowly followed suit, their smiles tentative but warm as they tried to mask their lingering curiosity.

and as seungcheol led you further into the house, his hand never leaving your back, he felt like he’d just won the lottery. because for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t walking into this house feeling defeated or embarrassed.

this time, he was walking in with you.

© 2024 Hoshi Fighting | All Rights Reserved

[reignpage]

The Other Man

Your worst nightmare is avoiding your eyes. 

Still sweating and slightly out of breath from the sprint you made from your home to the hospital, you try to wipe your hands down the material of your jeans, and you’re mortified to find them shaking. 

Is it from adrenaline or from fear? 

When they said they found your husband, alive, and he’s been fixed up all brand new, you thought everything would be fine, that things would go back to normal. Your home will finally stop being so stifling, you won’t burn a hole through your carpet from all the pacing like your friend tried to joke, and you no longer have to hold yourself at night just to stop from hyperventilating.

But when you look at his eyes and see only confusion and a drop of anxiety, you know something’s gone terribly wrong. 

“He suffered trauma to the head and we noticed no signs of it during surgery, so the symptoms only showed up now. We’re sorry we hadn’t been able to warn you ahead of time,” the doctor says. 

Maybe now your hands are shaking from anger. 

You step towards the doctor, the sterile smell of latex gloves and death stinging your nose, and you splutter out, “What are you talking about? What’s wrong with my husband? Why is no one just telling me straight up?”

He flinches. 

They both do. 

You don’t feel bad, can’t feel bad. 

The doctor opens his mouth and he’s explaining, rambling about all sorts of medical terms you don’t know and it’s likely he’s doing it to distract you, or punish you, but you do hear one word. It registers and sends a static ringing through your ears. 

“It would seem your husband has developed retrograde amnesia.”

Amnesia. 

When he finishes, a silence takes over, filling up the room and pressing you to the walls, daring you to suck in a breath. A beat or two passes whilst he wait for either one of you to say something, ask something, anything. But no one does, so he leaves and immediately you wish he stayed. 

“Hi.”

His voice breaks you out of your internal panicking. It has a slight quiver, perhaps from the deep sleep he had been under, or the exhaustion that had built up, the price to pay for saving so many people in one night. The reports said, on the night he disappeared, that there had been many curses, strong ones, gathered in an organised attack, an ambush. They had backed your husband in a corner and pushed him to his limits. 

They did this. 

You try to smile. 

“Hi, baby, how you doing?”

There’s a blush forming across his cheeks and you smile for real, finding his embarrassment adorable, but then it drops just as quick when he clears his throat, as if setting a boundary. 

“So,” he drags out, “you’re my wife, huh?”

What’s the procedure for losing your loved one to an internal injury so bad you feel it cut deep? What’s the etiquette? Because you’re so sure screaming at him to stop playing this cruel joke is probably not a good idea; you already know what the doctors would say.

It would be unwise to push him.

Your steps are hesitant but you push through that invisible force keeping you back. You need to touch him, need to feel that, despite it all, he’s warm and real and breathing — at least one of you has to be. 

He looks up at you from your position beside his bed and watched your hand lift towards his face. He doesn’t move, he steels himself for your sake, you know it, because your husband has always been the kindest, most empathetic man you’ve ever met. 

Then you cradle his slightly cut up cheek and tears stream down before you even know it, a laugh bubbles out and you sob it out. He’s really alive. 

“I’m so happy you came back.”

He smiles, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s still a genuine smile and your heart leaps. If he can smile at you like that even without the pull of the shared memories of his time with you, then surely there’s hope. Because through his dazzling eyes, always dazzling, you believe there’s a huge box of everything he had filed on you, on his love for you, his wishes and desires for for you both. It’s just locked away at the moment, but you’ll find a key. 

You have to. 

“I must have been pretty great to bag a gorgeous woman like you.” 

“The greatest.”

He laughs in surprise. He did that every time you played along, because no one else ever had, not his own family or his friends, and not even himself. 

And the hours pass by with him asking questions and you answering patiently, despite the stab at your chest from every moment he forgot, every special occasion he doesn’t remember, and you both relive the bad times, the terrible times. 

Except he’s going it through for the first time. 

All the nurses and doctors filter in and out, changing this, emptying that, wiping here, walking there, and throwing all sorts of information at you. Eventually, they give you a care pack full of pamphlets filled with numbers and websites for support, letting you know he’s free to leave, but that check-ups will have to be frequent to monitor his progress. 

You can tell he’s getting tired; you don’t blame him, it’s been too much too fast. So you tell him, “Alright, handsome, it’s time to go home.”

He cheers up at that, eagerly packing and hobbling out of the hospital and into your car. The car ride home isn’t quiet like you had dreaded, it’s loud, bustling with more questions and excited remarks. 

“No way. He ate that finger? That’s so funny.”

“Oh, his hair is really that spiky? And she puts up with both of them? Wow.”

“He’s still teaching? That’s great.”

When you pull up to the house at the end of the street, all the lights are off and you feel a little embarrassed that it doesn’t look inviting, and  of course you forgot to clean up the dishes and vacuum the carpet. Maybe you should have gotten balloons and streamers, maybe invited his friends. You know the doctor said don’t overwhelm him, but they’ll definitely come knocking sooner than later. 

That’s how loved your husband is. 

You have a bashful smile when you finally glance up at him, both walking up to the door, and it plummets at the disappointed look on his face. He doesn’t care about the lights, only that the home he had been expecting is the one across the city, the one you had made him move out of years ago so you could live together as a soon to be wedded pair. 

Now, he’ll have to live in your home as a guest, borrowing your cups and plates, and wearing clothes he didn’t buy but the other man did, and then he’ll be sleeping next to you. 

A stranger. 

You gulp the horrified scream down and, with shaky hands, you unlock the door, ignoring the overwhelming feeling that you’re losing an uphill battle, that things will never be the same, and he’ll never love you, not like he did. 

Your husband is loyal to a fault; he won’t leave you, not because he loves you, not because he can’t imagine being anywhere else but here, with you, but because there’s a ring on his left finger that he keeps playing around with like it feels wrong to have it on. 

And the realisation that you don’t care, that you have enough love for the both of you, that you want, need, to have him in any way he’ll let you, creates a dull ache in your stomach.

You don’t try to smile when you turn to him, even when he does. 

All you say is,

“Welcome home, Satoru.”

[hxney-lemcn]

Mine, Only Mine — Mr. Crawling, Gap, Silvair, Chopped, Hugeface, and Scarletella x gn! reader

summery: how jealous do some of the Homicipher boys get?

tw: unhealthy relationships (Mr. Hugeface & Scarletella)

wc: 1.2k

Master List

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Crawling

❥I know people have written about how he gets jealous…but I don’t really think he does? Or at least not terribly. The scene with Mr. Chopped and the cat ears show that Mr. Crawling won’t pout or get sad at you showing affection to others, just that he wants to gain the same attention (the ear scene…). So jealousy with Mr. Crawling isn’t too bad, just be prepared to shower him with more affection than the person you originally did. 

❥On the other hand, I do think his jealousy may increase if you ignore him. Say you give more attention to Mr. Scarletella, Mr. Crawling would get a bit sad and pouty, thinking you don’t like him anymore. If this happens, give him lots and lots of attention and reassurance, he’ll be super grateful. I mean he loves your affection anyways, so might as well give him some extra headpats and kisses. Even better if you only show certain signs of affection with him, it makes him feel special. 

❥Overall, not the most jealous, but not completely unaffected either. Make sure he gets his daily dose of attention/quality time and he’ll be as right as rain.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Gap

❥Uh, he gets more jealous than you’d think. Like…his whole thing is he wants to be special to you…in his own strange way. Doesn’t like the thought of someone taking his place as a jokester to you. Also why he brings you things he’d think you like from time to time, just to make sure you still have that special place in your heart for him <3

❥Hates hate hates when you call him bad or not good. He’s good! He swears! Remember how he’s helped you before! Gets all frowny when you call him not good and then call someone else good. He’s good too! Guess he has to prove it, AGAIN. It’s honestly kind of endearing how he has no clue how he actually kind of does like you? But not exactly in a romantic way? It’s honestly hard to label his feelings towards you, so why should I?

❥I’d say he’s the second most jealous in this list of characters, watching on angrily as you praise someone that isn’t him. Be prepared for magazines and books galore when he’s in this mood, trying to prove his worth to you. Kind of strange for someone to try so hard when they claim to not like you…

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Silvair

❥Definitely the chillest one here. Doesn’t really get jealous at all :/ If anything, he finds it entertaining when you’re affectionate with others. Gives him more insight to his lab rats. Yes, he sees everyone as a lab rat. Idk, I can’t really see him get jealous.

❥Maybe…MAYBE if someone else tries doing research on you, or if Ms. Nurse treats you instead he’ll feel a bit off. Like…you’re his test subject, he knows you from the inside out…literally and not in the fun sense. Why would you go to someone who doesn’t know as much about you and how this world affects you? It’s very hard to spot his jealousy, doesn’t even notice it/recognize it himself. He just doesn’t want anyone to mess up his data…that’s all…totally.

❥In conclusion, not really jealous. Doesn’t feel like he needs to be. You’re ‘friends’, doctor and patient, mad scientist and lab rat not many others threaten that balance between you. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Chopped

❥Honestly…Mr. Chopped I’m kinda mixed on how he’d be. Like on one hand, I could totally see him getting jealous if you call others cute or pay too much attention to them. On the other…he could probably care less. He loves himself, you love him, why does he need to get jealous? It’s clear how much you like him with the way you pamper him. I mean we get so many examples where you’re affectionate to Mr. Crawling in front of Mr. Chopped and he doesn’t really bat an eye. 

❥Now, I can see if he gets a bit insecure he might get more jealous. Whether it be because Mr. Crawling pats your head or tucks you into bed, Mr. Chopped feels a bit sad. He’d like to tuck you in, you look so comfy. Might be just a bit pouty, eyeing you like a dissatisfied cat. Easily rectified with head pats or even cuddles. Gets side tracked from his jealousy as soon as you give him a sliver of attention honestly.

❥Mr. Chopped is fifty fifty when it comes to jealousy, but it’s never too bad. He’s pretty comfortable with what you both have and doesn’t really feel threatened by others. After all, you did call him cute.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Hugeface

❥I wouldn’t say he gets jealous? More possessive than anything. Like that scene when Mr. Machete stumbles into his little makeshift dollhouse that he made for you and gets all angry that he’s there. It’s more of a ‘you’re not supposed to be here, this is our playtime’ more than actual jealousy. Throws a little fit whenever someone messes up your playtime. Very accusatory lmao.

❥Does not like when you try to escape. Was he not providing enough for you? Were you unhappy? You’re not allowed to leave! You’re his cute human! He can’t just find another one y’know. Mr. Hugeface may be lenient if he sees you happier, you need enrichment after all. Feels extra happy if you come back on your own violation. 

❥The most childish out of all the characters on this list. Isn’t afraid to throw tantrums, will also punish you by putting you in a solid concrete cube if he’s really upset. Yeah…not the most healthy of relationships to have…BUT! I do think you could convince him to be a bit better…? Maybe? Only if you put enough work in communicating with him though. Maybe punish him in your own way like leaving for longer if he threatens to trap you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Scarletella

❥Uhhhhhhhhhhh. Top of the list when it comes to jealousy. Watches your every move with curiosity and spite. Why are you doing that to Mr. Crawling? Do it to him instead. Why do you look so happy braiding Mr. Chopped’s hair? Style his hair instead. Why are you looking so fondly amused at Mr. Gap? Don’t you find him amusing? You do like him, right? He likes you. He likes you a lot, and he thought he was enough…was he not?

❥Will stare through your skull. It is so intimidating. His smile? Strained, it makes your skin crawl. You have to make sure he doesn’t hurt your friends, he’s so close to snapping, but he knows that would upset you and that’s not his goal. So instead he stands ominously in the background, body staticing in and out while his hand clenches the handle of his umbrella. 

❥Not that easily mended. Likes to monopolize all your time and affection. Needs constant reassurance as well, he’s quite needy. If you like constant validation and no social life go for it, just don’t get too upset if he threatens your other monster friends…he can’t stand that you could like someone that wasn’t him.

[madamechrissy]

Yandere Bully! Gojo - Part 2

Ya'll have been asking for part 2 so here it is! Disclaimer- bullies suck- yandere shit, degradation, nsfw, lots of Bully Gojo harassing the reader tbh, misogyny, possessive, name calling, rough sex, videoing against consent, oral (m and f receiving) don't read if not your thing (college au) say hi to Geto- (Part one here!)

Bully! Gojo who saw you flirting with your classmate in Physics, pouting the entire time, since you finally got annoyed by him and are now completely ignoring him. Now he's glaring with those icy blue eyes, and you can damn near feel his touch on your skin.

Bully! Gojo who yanks on your ponytail hard after class lets out, making you bend backwards, his other hand shutting the classroom door, locking it. Your heart races as you glare back at him. 'what the fuck do you want, Satoru?' he laughs then, arms barring you on either side. 'you're trying to make me mad, aren't you baby?' you scoff, turning as he leans down, so goddamn tall, you ignore that tension in your tummy.

Bully! Gojo who says 'you know that pretty little cunt belongs to me' he's slipped his hand down your tummy, it trembles under his touch, then he's got you right between your thighs, his fingers slipped right under your pleated skirt. 'it d-doesn't, we don't even date, you're just a jerk!' you shove him then, and he smirks, running his fingers over your panties, already sticky from his touch. 'then why are you so wet baby?'

Bully! Gojo who now has you on the teacher's desk, your thighs spread, spitting on your bare pussy, your thong is already in his pocket of course, he'll use it later. You've been a brat for weeks ignoring him, and he's done, he's now watching the bubbly liquid ooze onto your little clit smirking as you jerk, your cheeks all flushed with anger, eyes dilated with want. 'you know you need me, you're so slutty f'me, hmm?' you feel the hot spit hit you, breasts yanked out of your blouse, he sucks on one of your nipples, you wish your hands weren't sinking in his silky white hair... but... 'f-fuck you... Satoru...'

Bully! Gojo who scowls now, shoving two fingers in your soppy little cunt, stretching you out and making your head fall back. 'no more flirting, aha listen how loud your stupid little pussy is, she missed me' he cooes, scissoring his fingers in and out of your wetness now. you hear your pussy and the squelching wetness as his long fingers curl inside you, pressing on that spot. You're stifling a cry by shoving a hand on your mouth, he just chuckles, blue eyes fucking insane 'no baby, make noise, let em hear who this pussy belongs to' then starts lapping at your clit with his stupidly long tongue, quick flicks that overstimulate you so fast, you're struggling not to scream when he sucks it into his mouth, looking up at you under snowy lashes.

Bully! Gojo who is soon covered in your slick as you cum all over his stupidly pretty face, orgasm wrecking your mind like it always does with this asshole. Satoru pulls back with half his face glistening, pressing against you and pulling your hair so hard tears prick in your eyes, looking down at you. 'pathetic little slut, you're all mine, admit it' you just reach for his cock, he smacks your hand. 'no dick for you till you beg good enough, got me!? and tell that boy you don't fucking like him.'

Bully! Gojo who grins deviously when he watches you break that poor boys heart, stomping away with your arms crossed as you walk by him, heading to the bathroom with tears in your pretty eyes. Fuck he loves when you cry. so he decides to follow you in the bathroom now, busting right in your stall, much to your panic, grinning at you. 'aw, you cryin?' you scowl, standing then. 'fuck you Gojo!' so he decides to take you up on that, going to slide your panties down again, and you yank them away before he can steal them, only for him to shove them in your mouth instead.

Bully! Gojo who now has you picked up against the bathroom stall door, mean tip of his cock bullying it's way into your tight, gummy little walls, so slick you're already gushing when he sinks in. You're crying out, mouth muffled around the fabric, so you go to yank those panties out of your mouth, that won't do at all for Satoru, so he decides you grab your wrists together, putting them over your head as he fucks into you. He's wrecking your cervix, grinning like a goddamn psycho. 'so weak, aren't you? Just look at you, stupid slut getting fucked even more stupid. Aw you're even drooling! cute.'

Bully! Gojo who the next day corners you against your locker, lifting up your skirt and peeking, whistling as you smack at him 'no panties, fuck you're slutty' for you to huff 'well you keep stealing them, you fucking psycho!' he chuckles at you again, grabbing your bare ass as you stomp away. Later in class he's leaning close, stealing your answers, you stomp on his foot under the desk, then tense when he scowls, leaning close and whispering in your ear 'get me an A or I'm fucking your throat so hard you won't be able to fucking swallow'

Bully! Gojo who got a B from copying you, because you honestly did it on purpose, and now you're in his dorm room, choking on his cock, he's so deep in your throat he can see the bulge, moaning at the sight. You're on your back on his bed, head hanging off the edge, he's smacking your titties over and over, watching them jiggle as he fucks you and starts talking shit, when does he shut up!? 'stupid little brat, can't even get an A huh? Baby that just won't do, I need you to- ah fuck that tight throat mmm- need you to- f-fuck!'

Bully! Gojo who pulls out of your sore throat, cumming all over your pretty tits now, you gasp for breath, coughing as he does, laughing now, squirts of sticky white ropes all over your breasts, your tummy. You weakly get up with no help of his, only for him to start taking pictures of you, earning your glare. 'gonna share these next time you flirt with anyone' he threatens, but he never would of course, well maybe with Suguru, but you gasp, standing and smacking him in the face, only making him hard again, earning you bent over his bed, with your wrists tied together by his tie, as he begins to smack your pretty ass, over and over, leaving handprints, 'looks like this greedy pussy wants cum in her, huh?'

Bully! Gojo who ends up making you beg for his cock in you, fingering you over and over without letting you cum, he keeps getting you right to that edge then yanking them out, breathing right on your cunt and laughing against your puffy lips, overstimmed from his playing, and he's talking to your pussy directly 'she's such a fuckin brat, but you, oh I love you. Such a good girl f'me' and then he kisses her with a 'muah' as you're crying, tears hot and sticky down your cheeks, cunt throbbing around nothing. 'Toru... please' you whine out, and he sighs now, finally rubbing his tip between your slit.

Bully! Gojo who loves when you call him Toru, it just does something to him, not that he'll tell you though, instead 'oh fine, since you're just so pathetic, needy... begging...' and shoves his cock deep inside you, full nine inches so deep and thick you struggle to take it, so fucking full, and he's moaning, thumbs pressing into the dimples on your back. 'you love this fuckin cock, don't you?' 'n-no, you don't even date me you dick ah!' Satoru is now fucking you even harder, and you swear you hear your bully whimper as your walls flutter around his veiny length, dripping down to his balls that are smacking your clit.

Bully! Gojo who busts a load of cum in you, moaning as you cum with him, so hard you're already pushing his cum back out, thighs trembling, he laughs then, as you're weakly just half laid on his bed, before he's videoing you, playing with the cum pouring out of your little hole. 'I think I need to show Suguru this, baby' 'Suguru! what!?' he's chuckling as he hits send and you hear the bling of a message when Satoru releases the tie, turning you around and planting a kiss on your lips, so sweet, like he wasn't a complete bully ass hole. 'To Suguru, really!'

Bully! Gojo who smirks as there is a knock on the door, and who is it but your old high school bully, Bully! Geto, who smirks down at you as he studies your naked body hungrily, you cover your tits up now, making Satoru grin as he yanks your hands down. 'I need some help teaching you a lesson baby' you glare at them now, and Suguru licks his lower lip, violet eyes glinting 'fuck you really look good, finally filled out huh?' you flip him off, and now Satoru is spreading your thighs as Suguru is behind you, holding you, tongue slipping up your neck to your ear.

Bully! Gojo who's lapping his own cum out of your pussy, as Bully! Geto is squishing your breasts with his big hands, moaning, you try to close your legs, sore and so oversensitive, but Suguru holds them completely open, leaving you to Satoru's mercy, as he's swirling his tongue in and out of your pussy, and you're screaming out, feeling Suguru's cock hard and thick under you, scowling up at him. 'hate you, Sugu. Hate you Toru.' they both laugh at you, now Satoru's smacking your wet pussy, and Suguru's hand is wrapped around your throat 'see she needs teaching' Satoru says, before nipping at your clit, making you jolt, and Suguru is kissing your mouth, even as you bite his lower lip, 'don't worry, I'll help'

Bully! Gojo and Bully! Geto who the next day at school watch a guy grab your ass, only for them both to beat the brakes off him, as you watch curiously, the six foot three men fighting someone over you, for a moment you melt, but then they have you cornered later in the hallway, Suguru has your books up high and Satoru is sliding up your skirts, you smack at them and realize you still hate them, even if their dicks will be inside you later.

Well now reader has two bullies, poor thing lol- remember, bullies SUCK and none of this is cool, it's only okay bc it's Gojo and Geto lmao

[boobav]

!season 1

Viktor is, you've clearly observed, insecure of himself.

Quite valiantly, due to some looming social norm or personal feeling, he tries to hide it. But in moments like these, such an act becomes impossible. Try as he might, desperately at times, when he's pressed against you in the warm water, your fingers over his skin, your fingers in his hair, his failure is palpable.

"Are you okay?" You murmur into the nape of his neck, his back against your chest. The water threatens with gentle churns to spill over the bathtub.

He turns his head to press a kiss against your wrist.

"More than," he says, voice quiet but firm, "I just feel, sometimes," and he hums, as though forming an adequate description of his emotions were the hardest task on the planet. Viktor, your genius scientist, hesitant not to innovate, to change the world with his research, no. He's hesitant only to make sure he says the right thing to you.

"Like I'm too good for you?" You ask, catching his eye. By the gentle look you know that's what he means. He faces away again, nods in a vaguely ashamed way.

How, you've always wondered, can you truly change someone's perspective? When words don't seem to persuade, when actions bring only fleeting relief, what can you do?

"It's irrational, I know, some... flaw of the mind. You don't need to keep reassuring my senselessness." He leans into your touch, takes your free hand into his, soap suds bubbling between your fingers.

"Sometimes you talk about yourself like you're a machine, you know." You muse. He gives a half-hearted laugh.

"Not a well functioning one."

Are words or actions worth more in this game of convincing? Does he feel it deeper when you press your lips into his hair, or when you mumble compliments and honeysuckle words into his ear? He shivers either way.

It's a long game, you know. It's taken months to even reach this stage, where the self-deprication is a rarity, not the norm. Maybe it'll take his whole life before he can accept every part of himself like you can, before he can truly see himself through your eyes, gleaming and gem-speckled as they are.

You free your hand from his, reach up instead to knead shampoo into his thick hair. He responds with a sigh and sinks somehow further against you, the water falling slowly to a more lukewarm temperature. You're not sure how long the two of you have been in here, talking quietly about very little, exchanging words that'll disappear forever with the water. But you really can't find it in you to care.

There's work to be done, errands to run. Errands that should've been run a week ago. This ceremony, this meditation makes all of it null. For where else would you want to be? Where else exists besides here, this room, this moment, static in the cooling water with the embodiment of perfection.

When you tell it to him, as you so often do, when you tell him that he's perfect, he can't believe you. The first time you ever said it, peering into his eyes as if they held some secret treasure within, he thought you were joking. He'd laughed, more out of obligation than actual humour, but your expression remained still. Sincere. To say he was moved would be a wildly inadequate explanation. What he felt in his chest that night was something otherworldly, something without a name. He's come now to associate it simply with yours.

You run water through his hair, rinse out the shampoo as he lies pliant in your hands. He insists you use your soaps in his hair, some floral-scented collection you've used for who knows how long, because the smell reminds him of you.

There's no point in overthinking it, you suppose. No point in trying to map out and organise moods, emotions. No point in trying to turn a gentle human experience into something clinical, something without humanity.

That swirling, omnipresent yet transient concept of humanity. You simply must cradle it within your own. You press your lips into his wet hair, whisper words made of ginger and lavender into his ear. Because at the end of the day, you're human. You're in love. And sometimes, that's all that matters.

[hanbinics]

!boxer matt meets !sunshine reader at one of his fights...

the boxing gym was like nowhere you’d ever been in before nor anywhere you usually spend your time. it was loud, gritty, and so alive with this sort of energy that had your heart racing for all the wrong reasons. it had you clutching your best friend’s elbow like a lifeline the entire time she led you through the crowds of rowdy people around you, all of them jittery and chattering excitedly about the two men in the ring.

“hey, just stay close to me, okay?” your friend calls over the noise. when she glances back at you and notices the slight pinch of your brow and your pursed lips, her shoulders relax. “trust me, you’re gonna love it. matt’s amazing to watch,” she reassures you softly, the somewhat familiar name piquing your curiosity. after all, it was the entire reason she’d dragged you here tonight—her boyfriend’s brother is the one boxing.

so despite feeling like a fish out of water, you offer a nod of your head and a small smile, allowing your best friend to pull you towards the front of the crowd to get a better view of the two men entering the ring. you’ve never actually met matt before, but as soon as you catch sight of him finishing up on the layers of tape on his knuckles, you just know it’s him. not only does he look strikingly similar to chris, but there’s something about the way he carries himself that immediately draws you in.

he’s... intimidating—broad shoulders, a sharp jawline, and cold blue eyes zeroed-in on the man across the ring from him. you can see fading bruises peeking out from beneath his tape before he’s pulling worn gloves over his hands, and the sight nearly makes you shiver. you’re so focused on how dangerous he looks when you suddenly feel as though someone is staring at you, and when you look up, your breath hitches in your throat at the realization that those cold blue eyes are now focused on you.

it's only for a fraction of a second that matt allows himself to study you, but immediately there’s an almost imperceptible furrow of his brow.

you don’t belong here.

the thought is immediate and unshakable. while the crowd around him roars with impatience, you stand there with wide, pretty eyes and parted lips, clearly out of place—like a daisy growing through a crack in the concrete.

but as soon as the fight starts, his attention shifts, and you’re left reeling from his cold gaze as he locks in on the only thing that makes him feel at home anymore—and it shows. you can’t take your eyes off him as he moves around the ring, even when you find yourself wincing here and there at the punches being thrown. it’s still not enough to make you look away, your body subconsciously leaning forward and your lips parted as if you’re watching a movie unfold before you. you’re amazed by the focus and control he maintains, and by the time his arm is being lifted in victory, your best friend is surprised at the way you clap for the brunette in the ring.

she looks at you with amusement twinkling in her eyes for a moment before leaning closer to your ear. “see? i told you he’s good,” she hums playfully, but you can hardly rip your gaze from matt’s broad shoulders and smug smile as he’s paraded around the ring in celebration.

once the crowd begins to disperse, most of them heading towards the front to collect on their bets, you find yourself being pulled towards the back despite your quiet protests as your friend insists that you have to meet matt. you can’t explain why, but the thought of doing so has your heart racing in your chest, the image of those cold blue eyes gazing down at you from the ring like a warning in your head. but before you can really dig your heels in and insist you should be getting home, you find yourself timidly approaching chris and his brother sitting on a bench in the locker room, one of the employees probably working the fights tonight cleaning up a gash just over matt’s right brow.

“baby,” the girl beside you greets her boyfriend, a wide grin on her face as chris stands from the bench to wrap his arms around her waist. you watch as he leans down to press a gentle kiss to her mouth, but find yourself looking away just before their lips actually meet.

when they pull away, she’s still smiling when she shifts her attention to matt. “matt, this is the friend i was talking about bringing along,” she explains, introducing you to the boxer. you can feel your cheeks warm as your name is spoken to the other man, mortified that he might think you can’t so much as introduce yourself.

from the bench, matt’s head tilts just enough to acknowledge you guys, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly when he looks at you. “so,” he says, deep voice laced with sarcasm, “you brought me a cheerleader?”

slowly, your face falls, and while your cheeks begin to burn, you find yourself blinking, lips parting and then closing as you try to find something—anything—to say to curb your embarrassment. he’s still looking at you, watching you closely, like he’s trying to gauge your reaction, but you feel like you can do nothing but flounder under the cold, subtle hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

despite your obvious embarrassment, your friend just laughs it off. “she’s new to all this, but she thought you were amazing,” she informs him, raising an eyebrow as if challenging the other triplet from beneath chris’s protective arm around her shoulder. there seems to be something unspoken exchanged between the two, but you’re too flustered to decode any of it, especially when matt’s expression shifts into something a little more smug as his eyes flick back to you.

“is that so?” he asks, but there’s an air of cocky indifference about his question, and you watch as he leans his back against the lockers behind him, arms crossed over his chest in a way that makes a few lean muscles flex subtly. you don’t have to see yourself to know your cheeks are a furious shade of pink.

“i mean, yeah, um—you were really good,” you manage to stammer out, voice barely above a whisper. it only serves the burn in your cheeks, and you watch as matt’s smirk deepens.

“really good, huh? high praise from an expert.”

“oh i’m not an expert at all,” you breathe out almost immediately, not catching the teasing tone to his voice, “i don’t even really know much about boxing, but the way you moved—it was like, um... watching a dance? but better. faster, and stronger,” you elaborate. at this point, your hands are wringing together anxiously at the base of your stomach, and your face is on fire. you feel entirely silly after you’re done, especially when you watch the way matt tilts his head to the side, clearly amused.

“a dance,” he repeats, tone dripping with skepticism, “never heard someone call it that before.”

despite your own nerves, you nod your head quickly in response. “it was just that you seemed to know everything that was going to happen next, and you executed it so well... it was amazing, really,” you find yourself admitting, and for a moment, matt’s smirk falters as he watches you seemingly replay the whole fight in your head, looking completely fucking awestruck.

from beside you, chris rolls his eyes. “matt,” he says simply, a light, playful warning just beneath his brother’s name as he shoots him a look as if to say be nice.

you don’t catch it, his expression shifting into one of an easy smile when you look the couple’s way, but your best friend almost looks sympathetic when your eyes meet, and you can’t help but be a little confused and feeling left out of the loop as matt finally stands from the bench.

“it was nice meeting you.” your name rolls off the boxer’s tongue with ease, but he seems almost dismissive about the pleasantry as he throws a t-shirt over his head and picks up his bag from the bench, hiking the strap over his shoulder.

disappointment sinks into the pit of your stomach, oddly enough, and your mouth twitches into a frown despite your best efforts. “oh, uh, it was nice meeting you too,” you reply quietly, the room beginning to fill with soft shuffling as your friends begin to make their way towards the door to end the night.

your fingers toy anxiously with one another as you turn to follow the couple out of the room, but your heart skips a beat in your chest when matt calls your name once more, prompting you to turn back to him, eyes wide with both surprise and curiosity.

you watch as he makes his way towards you, blue eyes twinkling with something you can’t put your finger on as he takes you in carefully. the closer he gets, the quicker your pulse becomes, and you swallow hard when you have to tilt your head up slightly just to look at him because of how close he’s gotten.

“i’ll see you next friday then?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. he watches your face carefully, taking in the hint of confusion behind your pretty eyes, the sight making his own mouth twitch into a small smirk as he begins to move past you and towards the door to follow his brother out.

“next friday?” you echo almost breathlessly, twisting around to face him once he’s halfway out the door, his body only half turned towards you as he nods once, that same sarcastic smirk resting so beautifully on his face.

“’m gonna need my cheerleader at my next fight, won’t i?”

a/n. i missed writing. i'm sorry i haven't been posting, but i hope you guys stick around for what's to come. x

©hanbinics

[crookedteethed]

18+ - mdni

ᥫ᭡. how the rafe's fuck you.

If I'm being honest, Season One Rafe does not know how to fuck you properly.

Rafe's sexual prowess was lacking in technique and selflessness, his thick cock a mere tool for his own pleasure rather than a passionate conduit for his partner's (your) ecstasy.

With that being said, of course he thinks he's hitting that spot inside of you--I mean, the guys ego is bigger then his dick. And that's saying something.

You bite your lip, stifling a moan - not of pleasure, but of frustration. Rafe's hips snap against yours in a frantic, uneven rhythm as he chases his own release. His eyes are screwed shut, completely oblivious to your unsatisfied state.

"Oh yeah, baby, you feel so good," he grunts, his breath hot against your neck.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Instead, you wrap your legs tighter around his waist, angling your hips in a desperate attempt to get some friction where you need it most. But it's no use. Rafe's too focused on himself to notice your subtle hints.

Just as you're contemplating faking it to get this over with, Rafe lets out a strangled groan. His body tenses, then shudder, and he's coming deep inside of you, and you're still left panting like a bitch because you haven't come yet.

(honorable mentions: When it comes to fucking with season one Rafe, he will refuse to perform any oral on you--he thinks it's gross--this doesn't mean he doesn't expect blow jobs from you, though. Also, in season one, Rafe either pulls off the condom mid-fuck, or forces you to go on birth control just to fuck you raw.) 

Season Two Rafe, on the other hand? That's a whole different story. He just comes across as so fucking reckless when he fucks you, y'know?

He fucks so angry.

He's all raw energy and unbridled passion, like a storm you can't control but can only surrender to. When Rafe's hands are on you, it's electric - every touch sends shockwaves through your body. His kisses are hungry, almost desperate, as if he's trying to devour you whole.

There's an edge of danger to it all, a thrill that makes your heart race. You never quite know what he'll do next - pin you against the wall, throw you onto the bed, or drop to his knees in front of you. That unpredictability is intoxicating.

And when he finally enters you, it's with a forcefulness that takes your breath away. Rafe fucks like a man possessed, all grinding hips and guttural moans. His fingers dig into your flesh, leaving marks you'll find later and trace with a secret smile.

Primarily he still chases his own high, but you can't help but let out a moan or two just by how rough he fucks you. The realization crawled through Rafe's body like a languid, tingling vine, filling him with a desperate craving for more of your euphonious moans.

In Season Three, Rafe is a new man - older, more mature, and eager to please. As he starts to devour your pussy, his experience comes through as a welcomed bonus. His movements are calculated and skillful, his tongue dancing over your sensitive flesh with practiced ease, as he realizes sex is more enjoyable when both parties are having fun.

Rafe's eyes glimmer with a mischievous delight, a smirk playing on his lips as he watches you with anticipation, your body convulsing and your cunt spasming just from his tongue??

It's a big ego booster to Rafe knowing he can do that to your body.

But it's not just his mouth that knows what it's doing now. His hips know how to move, how to find that sweet spot that ignites sparks of pleasure throughout your body. He's learned the power of slow, deep thrusts followed by quick, shallow ones - a combination that never fails to send you into a frenzy.

And it's not just about his dick anymore. Rafe's hands roam your body with purpose, memorizing every curve and eliciting shivers of delight from your skin. His lips are like fire on your skin, leaving a trail of heat wherever they touch - your neck, your breasts, the inside of your thighs.

When he finally sinks into you, it's with a low groan that reverberates through both of your bodies. He watches you closely, taking note of every gasp and moan as he adjusts his rhythm to suit your pleasure.

Like a mirror image of his previous self in season three, Rafe in Season Four is still eager to please both of you. But now, he approaches your pleasure with a gentle touch, taking extra care as he fucks you.

With every thrust, his mind is consumed with thoughts of marrying you, and it only intensifies his desire for you. Every moan and gasp that escapes from your lips only fuels his passion further. He knows that he wants to spend the rest of his life making love to you, and nothing could stop him from doing so.

Every movement, every touch, is charged with an intensity that goes beyond mere physical pleasure. Rafe's hands roam your body with reverent desperation, as if trying to memorize every curve and contour. His lips brush against your neck, your collarbone, whispering promises of forever between heated kisses.

You can feel the change in him, the shift from lover to potential life partner. It's in the way he looks at you, eyes burning with a mixture of lust and something deeper, more profound. It's in the way he holds you closer, as if afraid you might slip away if he loosens his grip even for a moment.

As your bodies move together in perfect synchronicity, you can't help but wonder if this is all happening too fast. Is Rafe really ready for this level of commitment, or is he caught up in his jealousy of Sarah's unexpected pregnancy? The thought flits through your mind, but you find yourself swept up in the passion of the moment, surrendering to the moment, to the electric sensation of Rafe's touch on your bare skin.

as always, reblogs and comments keeps me motivated. 🫶🏾

[the-warlock-syndicate]

What is the purpose of a sex scene? Well on a completely literal level, it is to depict a character having sex. And if you only watch films on a completely literal level with no nuance or examination, I expect sex scenes would be as pointless as eating or sleeping.

It is an interesting question though. Departing from that framing, sex scenes can convey an awfully large range of themes and messages. But, the more interesting piece of the question, which I think you are right to contribute, is where exactly do we think the messages effectiveness is enhanced by a full sex scene rather than fade to black?

I remember Oppenheimer in theaters, and thinking that the sex scene was overdone. I don't quite recall how explict it was, but it seemed over the top, and exposing a historical event which gave insight to his character was not really added to by drawing it out.

On the other hand, there are movies and shows where the full explicit sex scene is narratively important. This is not to suggest anything about the writing chops of the directors, but rather that the plot, the way it is arranged, benefits more from an explicit sex scene than fade to black.

Horror films in general, and Jason in particular, make a lot more sense to have explicit sex scenes. They are generally operating off an old fashioned puritan idea of sexuality, and the logic of the movie is that the characters brought it upon themselves for being so slutty. Which is why the virginal good girl ends up living. The sex scene is important for the message, as something for the movie to rail against. Sure, leaving things ambiguous might have implied the teens were fucking, but that is pretty weak when the subtext is that extra-marital sex is bad. Its like a movie with an anti-drug subtext, but the main character who looks like a stoner is never actually depicted lighting up.

Since Netflix is on my mind, let's talk about a couple animated shows. I've joked with friends that a lot of Netflix shows have a 'Netflix Syndrome', which I use to mean that a somewhat more lax approach to what gets greenlit means a corresponding increase in blood, murder and sex, because it is perceived to be allowed. Particularly with 'adult animation', which needs to prove to its audience that it can be a cool and grownup artistic medium, and swings the pendulum a bit far in the other direction of edginess by overcompensating.

The two shows that spring to mind here are Castlevania, and Blue-Eye Samurai. Now, Castlevania, while I did enjoy it, I think does swing heavily into the Netflix Syndrome arena. Edgy for the sake of differentiating from children's shows, to the point where it feels like overcompensating out of insecurity. There are a fair couple sexy scenes that I think were unnecessary, with fade to black being better options. Also grimderp plot twists lmao. But I do think that one of the biggest sex scenes, Alucard in the BDSM threesome, had its message enhanced by the explicit nature. Spoiler alert, Alucard is lost and directionless, opens his heart and his home to strangers to make friends. One thing leads to another, they are all in bed together, in what should be a culminating moment for him to get out of his depressive funk, see the light and joy in the world, and open up. And when he is at his most vulnerable, being tied up in a particularly kinky threesome, they betray and try to murder him, and he tries to murder them back. Now, there are other ways to write a story in which one gets betrayed while vulnerable. But if you are going to have a sex scene, the scene is better served by going through with the whole thing, instead of fade to black, which deeply weakens the impact.

Blue-Eye Samurai has a couple of sex scenes, which I think work, because the titular character has a lot to work through with regards to her sexuality. Between not being comfortable with female norms and behaviors in a still very male dominated society, crossdressing as a man 90% of the time, and having a particularly odd relationship with her sexuality as an object of desire, owing to her mixed race Japanese-European status which has people see her as a hideous abomination or 'exotic' beauty, full sex scenes exploring these dynamics I think are warranted. Particularly the one with spoiler again, her husband, and the feeling that she could reclaim a degree of femininity in being desired sexually, before being betrayed for her masculine qualities.

I'm not the biggest film buff, so I struggle to name more movies, because there are truly an abundance of movies with no sex whatsoever, and the ones with sex do utilize a lot of fade to black themselves.

"sex scenes have no narrative purpose" is such a funny take on so many levels. people will really believe that the whole human experience is valuable to portray artistically except sex, which of course has never held emotional weight or significance for anybody

[smileysuh]

sage & stardust - TEASER

🌙 starring. Kim Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “I think you’re amazing, and good with your hands, and pretty, and I enjoy spending time with you too,” he counters, echoing the entirety of your sentiment. You stare blankly up at the man. It’s clear he doesn’t know what you’re getting at. You wonder how fairies court each other- do they even court each other? Do fairies have sex? Or are they just… you don’t know, blossomed out of flower buds or something?

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, Mingyu holds y/n down by the wrists, size kink, mentions of possible bondage kink, heavy petting, worship, Mingyu is a boobs guy, nipple sucking, fingering, pussy stretching, foreplay, multiple reader orgasms, oral (f receiving), praise, dirty talk, etc… I pet names: (hers) my star. (his) Gyu.  

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 9.6k

🍭 aus. Fairy au, fantasy au, non idol. 

☀️ mlist + an. Okay, so, I’ve written sooo many fics on this blog, and lately I’ve been wanting to try things I haven’t done before. I’ve never done a legit small man fairy dude (who does become normal/large sized later) x yn in a fic before, so bare with me, because these two are such a delightfully domestic pairing. Without further adieu, I give you: blue-collar fairy Mingyu. 

Even you have to admit the space has ambiance. The solarium studio is a lovely part of the house, your favorite in fact, although, tonight, you’re feeling a little shy about your art strewn about.

“Did you paint all of these?” Mingyu asks, approaching your most recent work.

“Yeah, they’re uh, abstracts,” you explain. “I mean, I gather a lot of inspiration from nature, but it’s more a feeling than a specific thing that I like to paint, if that makes any sense.”

“It does,” Mingyu nods, leaning down to get a better look at your art. 

“My grandma, she uh, she was an artist too, and so was her mother, and she gave me the house because she knew I needed inspiration-”

“Maybe that’s why she gave you me too.”

Your heart lurches in your chest, and you blink up at the tall man. “Uh… maybe.”

“So this cottage has a long line of artists and tinkerers,” Mingyu concludes.

“The line ended in my mother’s generation,” you sigh.

“That’s not true.” Mingyu looks down at you. “We’re here now.”

☀️ to read the full fic AND 2.7k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

👹 or wait till the fic is posted on tumblr Friday the 22nd of November 2024

🔮 see what’s already available to read on my m.list

interact to be tagged when the fic is posted, reblogs and replies will be prioritized

[hyperions-light]

Someone was being a fucking hater on my explicitly positive DATV post AGAIN (u all know I can see your tags right. They get delivered to me express mail style) so here’s an essay about how I thought the Grey Warden plotline was great:

First, it was extremely lore-consistent. I don’t know how to tell people this, but the Grey Wardens simply are sort of shady— it’s part of their charm. In DAO alone we found out they:

- kill anyone who refuses the joining

- are definitely using a blood magic ritual to induct people

- tried to usurp the throne of Fereldan

In DA2 they:

-Forced Malcolm Hawke to perform a blood magic ritual against his will to contain Corypheus, by threatening to kill his family

- Built a giant prison in the mountains they didn’t tell anyone about and that someone could wander into and not be able to escape

- the entire Corypheus thing. They didn’t even tell the other Wardens like what he was or how dangerous he was.

DAI:

- the demon army thing was pretty bad

And that’s not even mentioning any stuff from the books or comics or shows! That’s just stuff in the games!

So they’re shady. It’s okay! They’re my little woobie guys, idc if they’re sort of shady!

But the plot in DATV is about all of those previously established issues coming back to bite them in the fucking ass, as they should! Knock knock, it’s the consequences of your actions, baby! The chickens are home to roost

(Which is just good storytelling. Like if you set up a bunch of issues and then never pay them off or anything that’s bad.)

Destroying Weisshaupt was inspired! Firstly bc Davrin is Weisshaupt, metaphorically (bulwark against the darkness, etc, I already made a post) so it serves his character arc. But also because it strips away the pageantry and the grandeur from them; no more castle for you! No more myth!

Davrin explicitly tells you that the First Warden is a traditionalist; he represents the historical attitudes of the Wardens. They do not accept help, they do not give up their secrets, they are standing alone against the dark. And it doesn’t work! He’s fucking wrong (and very punch-able). Being secretive and isolationist is a mistake that costs them nearly everything.

But also, and I’m not sure how many people experienced this on the first go-around, the game does ultimately come down on the side of the Wardens always trying to do the right thing. You CAN talk the First Warden down, because in the end he’s a Warden, and he might be stubborn and curmudgeonly and miserable but he CARES about the world. He came to do good. He admits he was wrong and he helps you. Because the heart of the Wardens is about selfless service to other people. In Death, Sacrifice.

Stripping away Weisshaupt and the glory and pageantry leaves the Wardens at their most vulnerable and forces them to return to their fundamental principles: helping people. That’s what Lavendel is about. Helping individual people and preserving every life possible even if it doesn’t feel that glamorous or heroic. Lavendel isn’t a significant place; it doesn’t matter, but it matters so much.

And then, the Cauldron.

First off, do not at me about Last Flight. I don’t think people should have to read external materials to play this game and understand it. If the information is vital it should be presented to the player in the text.

The Cauldron is the repository of the Wardens’ secrets; it’s where the keep the bones of the Archdemons, the secret to the Joining, ancient and dangerous weapons, as well as the bodies of the griffons, which represents their most shameful errors. Isseya is the avatar of the Wardens’ mistakes; she’s been hurt by what they made her do, and her pain was never acknowledged by them. They buried her story and her suffering like they bury everything they don’t want to deal with and are ashamed of. They left the bones of the griffons, whose deaths they directly caused, to rot because they were too sad to acknowledge them.

But it was wrong to walk away, it was wrong to bury it. Isseya makes sure that they can never do that again, that they have to own what they did and take responsibility. By discovering who she is and by restoring her personhood to her, by reminding her of her love which drove her to her anguish in the first place, Davrin saves her and he saves the griffons. He doesn’t do it using violence, because another sin of the Wardens is just assuming that they can kill their way out of their problems, which the game disproves by revealing the origin of the Blight. You can kill as many darkspawn as you want, you will never fix it! The Titans’ dreams do not need to be slain, they need to be healed.

Isseya is in so much pain because of her incredible love for both the griffons and the Wardens, and because of her guilt. Look what she builds! An alternate Weisshaupt, a distorted reflection of her home. She entreats both Davrin and Assan to join her, because she doesn’t think she’s trying to destroy anything. She’s trying to save them! She wants them to come home. “I am their mother,” she says, and she’s right. She saved them, then, and she ends up saving them now! Because she made Davrin and the other Wardens look, unflinchingly, at what they had done, it will never happen again. She was going about it wrong during the game, but she was ALWAYS trying to save them.

Davrin, Antoine and Evka represent the Wardens’ commitment to being different. They let Flynn undergo the Joining without becoming a Warden, they reveal secrets to non-Warden Rook, they offer to help the Viper without asking for anything in return. They ask for help and offer it freely. If the Wardens are going to persist into a world without Archdemons, they HAVE to change. They can’t be what they were anymore. The game is asking what a Warden is when they have to be more than their oath, when they have to live. It’s a great exploration of and expansion on previously established lore.

Anyway, my advice if you hated the plot and the game and the characters is to a) make your own post b) don’t bother me about it, because I have the time and I will be loudly positive in response!

[earthchica]

I want you

terry richmond x black, fem! reader

summary: you and Terry are roommates who are sexually attracted to each other; you have a habit of stealing his shirts, and Terry doesn't mind, but eventually, he confronts you about it.

warnings: explicit smut (18+), dom/sub kinda, oral (f) fingering, unprotected counter/couch sex, size kink, roommates, nicknames (shorty, lil mama, baby, baby girl) & more. words: 2k

note: oddly enough, this is based on a dream I had; it's kind of short. also, I used the first line from @kumkaniudaku, "Askew," as inspiration for a line I used. I wanted to give credit; you did your thang, lol. Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts.

-

It was a lazy, cozy Wednesday when you found yourself in your roommate, Terry's bedroom, about to steal one of his shirts while he was in the shower.

You twisted your lip, quickly grabbing the shirt off the bed and putting it on. Since you were short, it was like a dress on you. Most of his shirts were, and honestly, you loved them like that.

His shirts made you feel comfortable and safe, and smelled like him. You wouldn't admit this out loud, but you wanted him so badly, plus there was so much sexual tension between you two.

You smiled happily, put your glasses back on, and skipped to the kitchen to make dinner for you both. After a few minutes, Terry came out of the shower and dried off.

He walked into his bedroom, about to get dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants, but there was a problem. Where the hell did his shirt go?

"Bruh…what?" Terry huffed, looking everywhere for his shirt, and then his mind went to you, and he grew a smile. Terry grabbed another shirt from his dresser to put on and went to look for you.

Terry called your name, his voice echoing through the apartment. "Yeah?" You asked, keeping your breathing even while you were looking through the cabinets.

He paused at the kitchen doorframe, seeing you wearing his shirt confirmed his thought. Terry smirks, looking at his beautiful, petite, curvy roommate, swaying your hips to the music.

Terry loves seeing you wear his clothes; he always gets excited by the way your beautiful curves look in the shirt. He's developed a strong crush on you ever since you two became roommates.

Maybe this is his chance to make a move on you. "Earth to Terry?" You called his name, waving your hand in his face, and he blinked away from his daydreaming.

"Are you good?" you asked curiously, and he nodded with a slight chuckle, moving closer to you and crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Yeah! Is that my shirt?" He asked, raising his eyebrows at you. You bite your lip and tilt your head, looking at him through your glasses.

"Yeah, maybe. Is that a problem?" you asked teasingly, and he bit his lip. Your heart started to race as his hands reaching the hem of his shirt, pulling you towards him.

"Not at all; you know when I see you wearing my shirt, it does things to me," He whispered intensely in your ear. You couldn't help but whimper.

The intense and lustful look in the eyes was sincere; Terry was a tall, sweet giant just towering over your plump, short self, making you go immediately into submissive.

“Tell me to stop! Tell me if you don't want this, and I will,” Terry said, slightly crouching to press his forehead against yours. You felt your breath hitch as he stared into your eyes.

“Don't stop, Terry! I want you so bad,” You whispered, feeling his hands slowly slide down to grope and massage your ass lightly. Terry's soft breathing was soothing.

He picked you up and sat you on the kitchen counter before pressing his lips against yours; you moaned and grabbed the back of his neck.

“Wait, wait. Are you clear?” You asked, pushing him slightly away to look at him. His eyes had darkened, and he said, “Yeah, I’m clear. Are you?"

"Yes!" You answered, and he nodded. "Good, come here." Terry began kissing the exposed part of your neck, leaving little love bites. Slowly, he pulled the shirt over your head.

The cold air causes your nipples to become erect. "Terry please!" You moaned as you felt his erect, throbbing dick through his sweatpants, poking at your leg.

“Mmmm..fuck girl. Where have you been hiding these beautiful tits?” Terry asked, going suck your breasts, squeezing and playing with them.

"P-please…I need you!" You moaned, stroking him through his sweatpants, causing him to curse low.

“How much do you need me, baby?" Terry asked, looking into your eyes with this curious look that made your pussy more wetter than before.

“I need you so bad. I think about you all the time, Terry. I sometimes finger myself, wishing you were doing it,” You confessed honestly.

“Mmm, me too baby. Whenever I see you in one of my shirts, just want to bend you over and fuck you,” Terry confessed as his large hands gripped your plump legs.

He spread them slightly more before he dipped down, took your panties off, and ran his middle finger up your slit to collect your juices.

You bit your lip, feeling your body slightly shaking with excitement and pleasure. Terry pushes two fingers inside you, grazing your g-spot; he begins to thrust his fingers fast before slowing down abruptly.

"Terry, don’t stop, please," You whined, realizing he stopped for a second. "Touch me, please…I need you!" You moaned, his body standing in front of you.

"Patience, shorty, I'm gonna just do that!" You bite your lip from smiling at his nickname for you as he leans to kiss you, gripping your long, curly 4a hair for a second.

You moaned, feeling his throbbing length press against your thigh again. "You're so damn stunning, you know." He spoke into your soft brown skin, kissing down to your core.

"Mmmm…wet for me, baby?" Terry asked, spreading your legs out a little before you could get a word out. His hot tongue met your pussy, pressing against you.

“Yes, yes, ahh, yes,” You moaned, feeling him lick and run his tongue up your folds, flicking your clit and moaning into your core; he sent vibrations up your body.

You throw your head back, resting it against the cabinet and gripping the back of his head. You cry his name as he goes faster and places your leg over his shoulder while practically making out with your pussy.

Terry pulls away and slaps your pussy, causing you to moan. “Look at me while I’m eating your pussy, baby; tell me how good I’m making you feel,” he says, looking at you with those eyes and going back in.

“Ahhh…fuck Terry, It feels so good; your tongue feels amazing,” You cried as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. "Fuck, T. I'm gonna-" You cried out as your orgasm hit you like a wave.

Your head started spinning as his thumb circled your clit, his eyes following each expression on your face like he was memorizing it. You pulled him up, bringing his lips to yours.

So you could taste yourself, and you could move your hand down, taking his shirt off, and feel up his abs, prompting a moan from him, which makes you moan as well.

You pulled down his sweatpants and boxers, and he took him off completely. You got a feel of his dick, knowing it must be big, but just looking at it now.

It was thick, lengthy, and ready for some release. You felt slightly unconfident that you weren't gonna be able to take it all. “It’s so big, I don’t know if I can take it.”

“You can take it, baby! I know you can; we’ll go slow,” Terry encouraged, settling between your legs and pulling you into a kiss, containing your moans as his dick slid up and down your wet folds.

“AHHHH!” You gasped, feeling him slide inside you, filling you slowly. "You good, baby?" He asked, cupping your cheek as you closed your eyes for a second.

"Yeah...it feel good...Terry, just move, please." You moaned, feeling yourself clench around him, and he pulled you in another kiss again, before breaking apart to moan.

"You feel so good and tight, shorty," Terry said, making his thrusts slowly, and you feel yourself adjusted to his size. "Faster, please," You asked.

“You want me to go faster?” he asked, and you nodded, “Yes, faster, Daddy!” Terry growled at you calling him Daddy, pulling you to kiss you, lifting you from the counter, and moving towards the couch.

“lil mama, If I go faster….imma fuck these glasses off your face. Are you sure?” He asked, laying you down in the corner of the couch before getting your answer.

“Yes, I want you to go faster and deeper, please.” You said with a smile, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him closer which made him grin.

"You drive me crazy," Terry said, taking his dick in his hand and sliding back into you, going faster and deeper. You grip onto his biceps, arching your back.

"Yes, just like that, ahh fuck me, oh my god. yes, this feels so good," You cried, slowly feeling your glasses coming off your face and dropping to your side.

"You like this, don't you, you like the way I'm fucking you?" He asked, and you nodded, crying out when he angled his hips and his pelvic bone slid across your clit. "Oh my god, Terry."

"Fuck, look at you. I told you you could take this dick; you gotta me feeling proud," Terry moaned, looking down at you, his voice deeper as he grunted with each thrust.

His lips are coming down to kiss your lips fast as his dick twitching inside of you. "Daddy, let me ride you," you begged as your nails dug into his arms.

"Shit! You wanna ride me, beautiful?" Terry asked, clutching at your waist. "Fuck yes, I do, please let me," You whimpered, and Terry chuckled at your desperation.

Terry groans softly as he pulls out of you and moves to sit in the middle of the couch. He leaned back against the couch, waiting for you, and you moved up, grabbed hold of his dick, and slid down slowly.

You bite your lip to keep from screaming, just loving how he filled you so perfectly; his dick was so throbbing with this new sex position; it just made your eyes roll back.

Terry looked at you in rapture, groaned, and threw his head back. You bit your lip, grabbed his shoulders, bounced up and down, and made yourself throw it back.

“Fuck, fuck, just like that. Goddamn, jiggled that ass on that dick,” Terry moaned, closing his eyes for a second before looking up at you, watching your breasts match the rhythm of your riding.

"Oh fuck, I always imagine it being good, but I think it’s much more than that; it’s incredible, Terry!" You said, feeling him grabbing your ass cheeks with his hands.

You continued to bounce up and down his dick while holding the back of the couch. Terry pushed your arms to the side and slightly lowered himself before wrapping his arms around your back, going full beast mode.

You let out a loud chant of moans, feeling yourself get close to the edge. "Are you about to cum, baby?" Terry asked, giving your ass cheek smack.

You cried in response, happy tears coming from your face, and you have never had a man make you feel this fucking good ever in your life.

“Ahh yes…yes fuck me, fuck me through it, Daddy,” You cried, loudly going to bury your face into his neck. His hips smacked against your ass fast,

The sound of slapping skin was louder than any sound you'd made yet, and you felt the knot form in the pit of your stomach. You pulled back to look at Terry's face.

“Fuck, baby….shit this pussy” Terry moans as his dick twitches and swells deep inside you. You reached your high with a loud moan of his name. "AHH TERRY!!!!!!!"

Your inner walls clenched tightly around his dick as Terry reached his own a few seconds later, his body giving into the blissful pleasure while he pulled out and released himself.

He was panting heavily, his arms still tightly wrapped around your waist as his head rested against the couch. His breathing hit your brown skin, tingling it a little bit and the room fell silent.

The two of you finally calmed down from your intense orgasms. “Damn, that was fucking special!" Terry breaks the silence with a laugh.

“Yeah, it was, " you replied, feeling awkward and shy. You didn't know what to do after, so you quickly grabbed your glasses and moved off of him to put them on.

You tried to cover yourself up, but Terry stopped you. "Hey…don't get like that. There's no need to be shy now, especially after what we just did"

"I'm not being shy. I'm good. This was nice, um…I'm gonna go take a shower,” you said, not letting Terry say a word before dashing to your bedroom and leaving him dumbfounded.

You closed your door and leaned your head against it, feeling stupid for being weird like that, but it was for your own good; you knew you couldn’t let it happen again.

part 2?

[ohimsummer]

AMENDS

— minors dni, bully! stsg x afab! reader, oral [ f. receiving ], edging, dubcon, dacryphylia, püssy slaps, hair pulling, pet names (good girl, pretty girl, princess)

"let us know when you're ready to apologize, pretty."

a thick cloud of fog smothers your thoughts. geto's words sound so quiet—miles away.

it seems like forever and a day has passed. his large hands trace the curved arch of your back before coming to rest on the globes of your raised ass, presented to him like a feast.

you jolt. a feeble whimper spills from your lips as geto gives a sudden, harsh slap to your pussy. "are you listening?"

he is satisfied with the weak nod of your head, giving a low hum before his tongue dives back into your folds. a tremble runs throughout your body, the ache in your legs getting worse with every clench and tense of muscle.

"you're so stubborn.", satoru huffs, thumbing away a fat tear from your lash line before continuing to toy with a strand of your hair. your head rests heavy in his lap, cheek smushed against his thigh. "all you had to do was wear the co–, uh, necklace."

the stutter doesn’t even take note in your mind. the mention of that damned necklace triggers the memory of how this all started: over the 'gift' gojo tried to bestow upon you, something in which you vehemently declined. especially at his request that you wear it beneath your turtleneck.

it wasn't even so much a necklace as much as it was an obvious collar—a thin piece of leather, pink in color and embedded with silver studs. it connected in the center by a piece of metal curled into the shape of a heart; a similar tag swayed loosely by a silver ring. engraved on either side were their names: suguru and satoru, though gojo was crystal clear in specifying that the side with his name on it was the front.

your eyes are attracted to movement in your peripherals. satoru twirls the collar around his index finger, still ranting on and on about how he spent so much on this special gift for ‘his girl’, and you wouldn't even show gratitude in a simple thank you, let alone the appreciation to wear it at least once.

he shifts slightly and the tent in his pants, inches from your face, rubs against your nose. you remember trying to suck him off at some point, as that’s how he usually preferred your apologies, but no. geto was insistent that gojo be more strict with you, easily swaying his best friend by calling him a softie for you. and now you're stuck, told to actually use your words for once ‘like a good girl’.

what little focus you had is gradually ripped away as geto pushes you closer and closer to another orgasm. he thumbs over your clit, pinching the nub between his fingers for some added suffering, thrusting his tongue inside you to lap up any juices and slick leaking from your hole. you’ve devolved into a sweaty, panting mess within minutes. geto moans against your cunt like a slut, like you’re the best thing he’s ever had. at least one of you is truly enjoying yourself.

it doesn’t take long before you get that familiar, tightening feeling in your stomach. it’s a rubber band being yanked on both ends, about to snap clean in two at any moment. your pussy flutters sporadically around his tongue as you’re forced to the brink. yet another orgasm right at the cliff, overdue to tip over the edge, when-

geto pulls away. he tugs lightly at your clit with his teeth when he does, relishing in your broken whimper. this is making you sick—so sick you’re truly about to break.

gojo’s conversation with himself is interrupted by your tug on his sleeve. casting you a mildly interested glance, his frown deepens, a display of clear disapproval. he sighs in an annoyed, dramatic fashion before tugging you up by the hair to look him in the eyes.

“what do you want?”, he says rather rudely. “told ya not to talk to me anymore unless it's to say you’re sorry.”

you blink, dazed, mouth falling slack but no words yet coming out. shaky hands paw helplessly at his chest as the words drag through your head, barely registering. satoru just stares at you. he thinks you look dumb, but you deserve to after hurting his poor feelings.

“ ‘’m…sorry…”, you barely whimper, quiet and pathetic.

satoru just rolls his eyes. “oh, come on. first, you break my heart and humiliate me and now this half-assed apology? do it properly, at least!”

your vision is hazy, but it doesn’t matter. the two sets of eyes digging into you leave a fiery trail of goosebumps on your skin. geto has finally stopped his insanity-inducing punishment; gojo’s tight fist in your hair tugs at the roots, burning your scalp.

“i sai–, i said—,” you stutter, seeing double, “—i’m sorry for not appreciating your gift, satoru.”

“mm.”, he hums, and you can see the whites of his teeth as two of him grins, proud of finally having gotten his way. “and?”

the thoughts rattle around in your mind. eyelids droop to darken your view before you add on, “and i–, i would be honored to wear it.”

gojo eases his grip to let your head flop back onto his lap. “see, atta girl! was that so hard?"

geto grabs you by the shoulders and hair, far more gently, holding your exhausted body upright as gojo unclasps the collar.

he tugs down the hem of your shirt, excitedly wrapping the leather around your neck. “see, i don’t know why you had to go making this difficult!”

and gojo snaps it on with a ‘click!’, leaning back to admire his handiwork. you feel yourself being tilted further back as geto angles your body to get a good luck at their new claim over you.

“what a pretty girl.”, he murmurs and kisses your cheek, reaching to toy with the tag dangling from your neck.

your head lolls as you’re manhandled into another position. geto’s blurry form is now in front of you, so it’s gojo’s warm chest that you’re sprawled back on, and his long legs that your knees are hooked over.

“since you’re bein’ so good for us now,” gojo whispers into your ear, “i’ll give you a treat, yeah? since we've made amends."

something thick and hot glides over your pussy, up and down, rubbing over your twitching clit. gojo grunts beneath you, shuffles a bit. he rubs his large hands over your inner thighs, grinding his cock between the slick lips of your cunt. he layers kisses up your neck, onto your cheek, ending the trail at your temple, and then reaches down to line himself up with your spasming hole.

geto looms over you to sandwich you between them. he digs two fingers into your cheeks, pulling you into a sloppy kiss where he nips at your lips and sucks on your tongue, spit drooling from the corners of your mouth.

“see how nice we are when you behave?”, he mumbles against your kiss-swollen lips. “tell satoru you’re sorry again.”

the wind is squeezed from your lungs as gojo sinks his full length into you. your words are cut off completely, and geto grins as you arch into him. gojo's tip pokes at your cervix, his balls kissing your ass.

“i’m sorry.”, you whine again.

both men chuckle. satoru kisses your wet cheek again. “it’s okay, princess, i forgive you.”

🎀: @sbgg @paradiseoflosers @deepenthevoid @bubblez-blop @luvvmae @risuola @bunnymacaron @hehehehesthings @starlightanyaaa @higurumapet @suguwuuu @lemonintrovert01 @c3nti-pede @krraayy @notdwenby @beomluvrr @mochacafee @sherb3t @hobarihope @suguwuu @v1xenluna @n3ptoonie @halparkebitch @getos-sugarbby @im-just-here-doing-nothing @gegeeeeeeeeeeex @squishies0102 @mochi-islive @kkncc @mxsocool @mrs-nicoleee @lovesickliyue @astrasworldsblog @euphoriagrae @foreshadowing-forsaken-fuck @euniciane @xocherishxo @sugojosgf @gyaruismind @marichat0n @ichikanu @mikeysflag @xinfvl @sugu-love @b-b-b-my-b-f-f @idkluvv @h-4-bib @starsharkz @sataraxia @apatauaia @savethegoddamturtles @wirelazeee @lcvelina @incognito-veritas @blindbabycadder

[imsobadatnicknames2]

ok but i need the evrart claire essay

Okay just be warned that this is gonna be less of an "essay" and more of a loose collection of thoughts, and I don't know how fresh or novel any of these ideas are going to be when it pertains to popular Disco Elysium fan discourse because I don't really do fandom, you know?

Anyway, I think the most obvious factet of Evrart's character is how he very intentionally calls to mind a caricature of corrupt union leaders, the image of a sleazy mobster who only cares about his own personal gain but pays lip service to leftist politics and pretends to care about the interests of workers as a way to obtain and maintain his power. And I think a lot of people straightforwardly read him as such, because that's the way he carries himself and the type of character the game is riffing on. There's also the question of how much of Evrart's manipulative, duplicitous attitude is just how he normally acts and how much of it is him specifically acting that way towards Harry and Kim specifically, it's important to have in mind that your main character is a cop and that would definitely play a role in making Evrart go out of his way to be a bit more of a bastard and toy with you a bit before he decides to actually do anything helpful.

However, once you dig a little deeper into his characterization, it becomes clear that he's pulling a very interesting double bluff, because it becomes apparent that the shady mobster who only cares about his personal gain is an act he's putting on. He's very self-aware about the fact that he's playing the villain, he seems to actively revel in it, but ultimately, it seems like he does it because playing the villain is the way he gets shit done.

This is not to say he's not actually corrupt, or that he's not ALSO involved in all sorts of shady stuff and taking advantage of his position of power, but the game does make it apparent that on some level he DOES have the interests of the people of Martinaise at heart.

For example, it is textually stated that the harbor doesn't need a night watchman, and Evrart created the position specifically to provide a source of income for René. He knows the pension Rene gets is not enough for him to live on, but he's also aware that René is the sort of right-wing guy who would rather starve to death than take a handout (especially from those dirty union commies), so Evrart created a job position which pretty much involves doing nothing for a few hours every night so he could help him with his economic troubles in a way he wouldn't refuse out of principle. René hates his guts, ideologically stands against everything his organization represents, and is generally an unlikeable asshole and a fascist prick, but he's also a disadvantaged member of the community and that seems to matter more.

Even when he asks you to get the signatures to build the community center, which is definitely one of the most morally questionable things he does during the events of the game (as it will improve the community, but at the same time displace the people from the fishing village), his intentions seem to be ultimately good. Due to the very nature of his character and the act he puts on, it's purposefully hard to tell when he's being sincere and when he's being manipulative. However, if Harry's drama and empathy skills are high enough when he's confronted about it, you'll be able to tell that he's not lying about his motives for wanting to build a community center or about the fact that he intends to provide better housing for the people displaced by the project, and that he feels genuine rage about their current living conditions. It can still be said that he's ignoring their self-determination and essentially forcing these people out of their current homes, but he does seem to have good intentions and think he's doing a good thing for them in the long run, even if his methods are morally questionable at best.

In that way, the Union is an extension of him in this regard too. They're pretty unapologetic about the fact that they're openly operating as a crime syndicate, but the game doesn't give you any reasons to believe they're lying when they say they're doing it as a way to muslce out all the more dangerous gangs and crime organizations out of Martinaise, or that their involvement in the drug trade is at least partially motivated by a desire to make sure it's not controlled by more dangerous and violent crime organizations. Again, they're playing the villain as a way to fill that power vacuum and make sure more dangerous people don't fill that role (but of course, that doesn't erase the fact that, noble as their intentions may be, they're still involved in all these shady activities and turning a pretty substantial profit from them too)

Of course, on the other hand, just because the game seems to hint at the fact that Evrart and the Union are, deep down, a force for good, doesn't erase the fact that he's done plenty of bad shit to further his interests, and the game doesn't shy away from this. He's still extremely corrupt, his long-term plan to wrestle control of the harbor away from the company and turn it into a worker-owned operation (which *would* massively improve the material conditions of the dockworkers if succesful) involves endangering the lives of a lot of his own workers, he and his brother Edgar pass the position of union foreman back and forth between each other to circumvent the term limit and keep themselves in power indefinitely, and if you explore all dialogue options with the Deserter it's all but explicitly stated that they rose to power by getting him to assassinate the previous Union forewoman.

These are things that Evrart himself would probably rationalize as sacrifices that need to be made for the greater good. After all, it is implied that the previous union forewoman was also corrupt, except in favor of the company's interests, and might have even been a company plant. However, this doesn't make those things morally right. Good intentions nonwithstanding, it's clear that the Claire brothers are very "the ends justify the means" kind of people, they probably see getting the previous Union leader killed or endangering the lives of the dockworkers to overthrow the company that exploits them as "pulling the lever" in the trolley problem, which is extremely callous at best.

Here's where we get a little more into "disjointed thoughts" territory, but Evrart can also be seen as a critique of the limits of trade unionism and social democrat politics. Something that I completely missed in my first playthrough but was able to catch on during my second is that the people of the fishing village refuse to unionize, and as a result they don't get the same level of support and protection that the union provides to the people of the more urban section of Martinaise. This is apparently widely known enough for characters other than Evrart to comment on (I forget what character I learned this from, but it was definitely not Evrart). So it's clear that Evrart and the Union put their interests of the members of their own organization over those of other working class people, which is one criticism that can be leveraged against the way a lot of leftists seem to treat unions as the ultimate tool for worker class liberation.

Similarly, when Evrart tells you his long-term plans, it's clear that his ultimate goals don't involve complete worker liberation. As far as the game shows, he's a socdem who's still looking to work within the confines of capitalism. There are more radically left wing characters in Disco Elysium, but Evrart is the only one with any actual power to affect change, which kinda speaks to the lack of presence of more hardline leftist positions in mainstream politics. As someone living in Latin America, I kinda ended up seeing a bit of a lot of our currrent socdem politicians in him in that respect, I guess, but i'd need more time to articulate this thought properly, I guess.

Ultimately, I think Evrart is an amazingly crafted character. He evokes a well-known archetype of a shady, corrupt, power-hungry union leader, but he adds a lot of depth, self-awareness, and nuance to it and subverts that characterization in several ways. I think he atually serves an important role of ideologically challenging players who share the developers' and writers' political leanings. I think it would have been very self-congratulatory and autocomplacent to make the most influential leftist character in the game an unambiguously good paragon of workers' rights and working class liberation. By instead giving us someone who's an absolute callous bastard who definitely has a bit of blood on his hands, who's a socdem at best and a self-serving mob boss at worst, but can ultimately be interpreted as a force for good, and asking the players to decide what they think of him I think it brings interesting questions to the table of our commitment to material gains, what sorts of people we're willing to work with, and the sort of acts we're willing to tolerate, and makes the game a lot more thematically rich.

I also think a good analysis of Evrart is incomplete without an analysis of the ways in which he serves a a charater foil for Joyce, but I don't feel like getting into that rn.

[sunofaraven]

Love this post. And also want to mention how much the canary curse means to me. I didn't watch Jimmy before the life series, but I became so intrigued by this goofy guy everyone teased who kept dying first. And I'm so glad I decided to check out his content.

As a content creator, he is SO good at what he does. Truly boundless energy and silliness. You can tell how much he loves being the butt of a joke. And I've seen differing opinions on whether people enjoy how much this man gets mercilessly teased, but I love it. I love it because of how he reacts and what it means in context.

As someone who personally struggles with perceived failure, Jimmy's content taught me that not only is it fine to 'fail' repeatedly, but that it's funny. And a lot of content creators do this, it's true, but the overwhelming resilience and optimism Jimmy shows feels like a whole other level. And the fact that he has embraced the canary symbolism only adds to that imo.

He just is the canary: a golden bit of sun in the darkness singing his heart out no matter what. And now the canary has broken free from his cage, but he'll keep singing regardless.

The canary curse can't be passed on, and even if Jimmy dies first again in the future, it doesn't mean it's back. Because he demonstrated to all of us that even if you're doomed by the narrative enough to die first FOUR series in a row, you WILL break your own curse if you just keep laughing and trying again.

That's why he'll always be the canary to me.

Gang let's leave the Canary Curse behind. It broke in Secret Life. Vestigial traits can carry over, sure, but it's over. Mumbo has only died immediately after Jim twice, and now this one time hes died first- he's not the new canary, and neither is Lizzie, who just had really bad luck and is doing amazing this season. It sucks that has only been happening to them, while Grian died first in Real Life and, by that logic, would also be a canary.

That being said it would be so funny if Mumbo woke up back on Hermitcraft and had to comb some feathers out of his mustache. But let's leave it at that ey? Just a little refrence, a little "ough, you had it rough" symbolism when they wake up in another server- whisked away by the resuscitation device.

I have no idea how Jimmy feels about all the canary symbolism now, but as of Sos SMP he had basically accepted it (a quote where he named his elytra "Canary wings" and said "they're a part of me now, it's not lore", it's worth pointing out this is solidly after Secret Life). Hence I will keep using it as inspiration for his character and for some refrences. However we should take an actual look at canary symbolism.

Well, doesn't that seem like our vagyely unlucky guy. He's always hopeful, very optimistic, worried about his friends safety (even if he isn't allied with them), and can be relatively vulnerable. Most of all, after so many times of dying first (and being targeted in other series), he's kept his head up high, and kept his eyes on the prize, always swearing that this will be his season. He's the most resilient person I can think of. This is how we can still characterize him as a canary.

Remember, the Curse isn't just about laughs and poking fun at an unlucky player, the Curse has been broken, and you shouldn't force the Curse on other players. That's all thank uuuuu <3

[hotshotsxyz]

too little, too late

(8x08 coda) (buddie) (1.2k) the episode chose violence and so did i :) spoilers for 8x08, and hey, guess what? this is my 100th 911 fic! it feels right that it's an evil one <3

The real estate agent has an irritating voice. It’s pitchy and run through with vocal fry, and if Buck has to listen to her talk for another second, he might actually tear his hair out. And it’s definitely about her voice. Nothing to do with the largely helpful information she’s handing over to Eddie like candy on Halloween.

“Anyway, we can touch base again once you’ve had a chance to look over those listings. I’m sure we’ll find something for both of you to love!” the realtor says.

Buck smiles. It feels brittle and fake.

“Thank you so much,” Eddie says with all the sincerity Buck can’t quite muster. He ends the call and sits back against the couch.

“That, uh—that went, um—” He’s choking on the positivity he’s trying so hard to exude. “—well,” he manages.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. He runs a hand through his hair. “Seems easier than I thought it was going to be.”

Easy.

That’s—

Yeah.

“You know you—you don’t have to buy straight away,” Buck says as casually as he can manage, which is to say, not casually at all.

“Buck,” Eddie says with a sigh.

“I know!” Buck says, throwing his hands out in a gesture of surrender. “Just—maybe you want to make sure, you know? Before it’s—it’s permanent.”

“I can’t keep missing out on his life,” Eddie says quietly.

Buck swallows. He knows. He knows! Knows it like he knows there’s going to be an Eddie-and-Chris shaped hole in his heart for the rest of his goddamn life.

“I don’t want you to,” Buck says, and it’s maybe the first honest thing that’s come out of his mouth since he sat down on Eddie’s couch.

Bile rises in the back of his throat as he realizes this might be one of the last times he gets to sit on this couch, in this house, with this man.

Eddie drops his head into his hands. “I don’t—” He cuts himself off.

“Have you told Bobby yet?” Buck asks. His breath catches.

“No,” Eddie says.

“Oh,” Buck says in a rush of air. “That’s—” He wants to say good. He can’t say good. Eddie needs—he needs—

Eddie lifts his head from his hands and his eyes are shining. “I don’t want to,” he admits. “I thought—”

“That he’d want to come back,” Buck supplies when Eddie doesn’t finish his thought.

He nods.

“He still—he could still—” Buck starts.

“He’s not going to change his mind.” Eddie cuts him off. “He doesn’t hate me. It’s worse than that. He doesn’t care.”

Buck’s chest feels tight. “He—he loves you, Eddie,” he says weakly.

“Maybe before, but—”

“He does,” Buck insists. “And—and if this is what you have to do to make sure that stays true I—I get it.” He does. He gets it. He’d do anything for Christopher. He’d—

It’s the worst feeling in the entire fucking world, but he’d give up Eddie for that kid. Is. Is giving up Eddie for that kid. A sob jumps up in Buck’s throat. He fights it back.

“I want to believe you,” Eddie says.

Buck knows that he doesn’t.

“Have you, um. Have you talked to Chris about this yet?” Buck asks, feeling a little bit like he’s just laid his neck across the base of a guillotine.

Eddie shakes his head. “No, I—I’ve got to do this, whether he wants me to or not.”

All at once Buck’s angry. Angry at Eddie, angry at his parents, at fucking Kim, at himself, and maybe even a little bit at Christopher.

“Eddie, you—you told him he could come back!” He says, a little louder than he means to. “Doesn’t he deserve to know that’s not going to be an option anymore?”

Eddie’s gaze snaps to his. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s got—he’s got friends here, and—and Carla, and—” He can’t say it. He doesn’t have the right to say it, doesn’t have the right to feel like he’s already lost a limb and now they’re taking a lung, but— “and me,” he finishes quietly.

Something like devastation flashes across Eddie’s face. “Buck, I—”

“No,” Buck says quickly, standing up from the couch. “I shouldn’t have—I’m not—”

“Buck, wait,” Eddie says, following him as he retreats toward the door.

“I, um—I forgot, I have to—I promised Maddie,” he tries to lie.

“Please don’t go,” Eddie says, and god, how many times in Buck’s life has he yearned to hear someone say that to him and mean it. How many nights has he driven home from Eddie’s wishing he’d been asked to stay.

This thing building in his chest, this thing of anger and grief and regret—it hurts. Every breath he takes is a little more constricted, a little less effective.

Eddie looks at him, and Buck sees it. That thing he’s always wanted to see. That thing he didn’t even know he wanted from Eddie until right now and it’s—

There was a small, naïvely hopeful part of Buck that really still believe that if someone loved him enough, they’d stay. Eddie loves him, looks at Buck like he’ll break his heart when he walks out the door, and it still isn’t—

Eddie loves him, and it isn’t enough to make him stay.

Buck is in love with him, he realizes, and it doesn’t fucking matter because he’s leaving. Like Abby and like Tommy, except Buck didn’t know how much hurt he hadn’t even discovered yet, because this isn’t Abby or Tommy, it’s Eddie, and Eddie—

Eddie’s supposed to be the one that stays.

Buck shakes his head and shuffles back until the doorknob is digging into his spine. “I have to,” he breathes, a grossly distorted reflection of what neither of them has quite managed to say.

Eddie opens his mouth like he’s going to ask again, like he’s going to beg Buck to stay, to show him all these awful pieces of his heart that he’s just found so he can remind himself that it’s not too much to leave behind.

Buck’s out the door before he can say another word.

He throws himself into the Jeep and all but fishtails it out of Eddie’s driveway. He makes it three streets away before he has to pull over.

The first sob surprises him with its softness; the second with its violence. He wraps his arms tight around his stomach and, god, he tries to breathe. But there’s not—there’s not enough oxygen in the entire world to make up for the way his lungs refuse to expand in the face of this loss.

He has to—he can’t—Eddie needs him to pull it together. To—to help him. To support him, and god help him, Buck will. There’s nothing Eddie could ask of him that he wouldn’t give. Nothing Eddie could do, Buck’s realizing, to make him love him any less.

Hot tears spill down Buck’s cheeks. He takes a shuddering breath and wipes them away. His vital organs are crumbling, so what?

He’ll set himself on fire if that’s what it takes to keep Eddie warm.