#i hate having to tag ALL OF THE NAME VARIATIONS

[whoreforsexymen]

heeeey!!!! Im back with more jayce request. I would like to see jayce x reader with the prompts “Don’t act like you didn’t want to end up under me like this.” and “Shut up and take my fuckin’ cock.”. This is giving me like rivals or enemies to lovers where jayce and the reader have some heavy sexual tension under the surface. One day jayce just loses all patience and snaps and takes all of his stress and anger out on the reader

Sink Like A Stone | Jayce Talis

Prompt Fic (See, Prompt List)

Prompt(s) Used:

#2 "Don't act like you didn't want to end up under me like this."

#21 "Shut up and take my fuckin' cock."

Pairings: Jayce x Fem!Reader

Pronouns: Fem!Pronouns + Female Anatomy Descriptions

Rating: NSFW, 18+, MDNI !! You WILL be blocked!

Word Count: 8.3k (IDK what happened)

Tags: Songfic, INTENSE Smut, INTENSE Angst, VERY SLIGHT dub-con (it's not really dubcon--Jayce just get's really consumed by anger at one point--the unspoken consent is there) Hate-fucking, Lovers to Enemies then back to Lovers (??), Choking, Semi-Public Sex, Biting, Slapping, etc.

Summary: You and Jayce are ex-lovers. You hate him for plagiarizing and stealing your life's work, and he hates you for leaving him over what he considered a selfless act. After months of having not seen each other, you two get into a heated screaming match turned hate-fucking. However, Jayce may have let his emotions get the better of him.

Notes: OKOKOK, so. Be warned. This one is a DOOZY. I was in no way planning on adding 90% of the elements I added to this story. They just kind of happened.

(Special note to @milkbean69 !! I really took this and ran with it. If you want me to redo it in a much tamer way. Please let me know and I will.)

((((Side note, this is going to have to be a two-parter! Stay tuned for part two, which will be much softer.))))

‘We lie,

Cold.’

Jayce.

A name so simple, so unassuming, it would slip unnoticeably through anyone else’s mind. But to you, it holds weight. Each syllable, each breath that forms it, feels impossibly significant—a name that stirs something deep within you, a quiet echo of poignancy known only by you.

Your feelings towards the Jayce Talis you once knew were complex and hard to define. On one hand, you despised the way he insinuated himself into the council of Piltover’s most prestigious Academy, taking a seat you believed was rightfully yours—one you had fought tooth and nail to earn.

‘Dam up the river,

We can go, slow.’

His so-called “vision” for Piltover’s future, with that abominable Hextech nonsense, had directly sabotaged the plans you’d spent years perfecting. You may not have had the luxury of Arcane magic to ease trade, but you had crafted a much more practical blueprint to connect Piltover to the rest of Runeterra’s trading world.

Yet the moment Jayce and his fragile “partner” wielded their so-called “magic,” your ideas were dismissed, overlooked, and ultimately erased.

‘We don’t wanna,

Know.’

On the other hand, you had always considered him a friend—seemingly more at times—until the day he practically ripped the rug of your life’s work out from under your feet.

Not to mention he had the gall to call it his idea. “His” idea? Please. It was your idea, just re-wrapped in a fancy mystical package. You had worked on it together, after all. Jayce had spent countless hours rambling about the mysticism and potential of those tiny blue stones of his, insisting they could revolutionize everything you had ever strived to achieve. Never once did you imagine that, once he unlocked their power, he’d turn against you, abandoning the partnership and the vision you had once shared.

‘Dull down our senses,

Become numb.'

What kind of name was Hextech, anyhow? It felt devoid of sophistication, lacking both subtlety and the gravitas one might expect from something so profound. It didn’t quite capture the essence of what it was—an intricate fusion of magic and technology—nor did it convey any sense of elegance or purpose.

Although, you couldn’t deny that you often reminisced in memories of your life before his grandiose “discovery”—robbery, really— of Hextech—your idea.

‘We take our time

Ignoring all the signs

Living in fear of our lies

Never bad enough to break it

Or, good enough to feel right.’

You had spent the better portion of your youth with him, much of it tangled amidst bedsheets, consumed by a shared, desperate need to relinquish each other’s physical tensions.

‘Been in overtime,

Half our lives.’

Sometimes, you could still feel the softness of his touch, the warmth of his lips grazing your skin—and other, much more tender, places. You could easily recall how your body had ached for him at times, but even more painfully, how your heart had longed for him, too. A truth you never dared to utter aloud.

The absence of anything beyond those intense moments of passion never really crossed your mind during the thick of it all. You never questioned it, and in hindsight, you’re almost thankful you didn’t—especially after what he had done after all that time. All of the time spent together, collectively fantasizing over your dreams and aspirations of a better life for all citizens, and a better future for the next generations to come.

‘Under indecision,

We become so dependent.

On the rush,

Of the moment.’

The bitterness that had consumed your heart was unbearable now, and the thought of ever confessing your feelings to him seemed almost unfathomable—impossible to imagine how much worse it could have been for you now if you had.

By this point, you were acutely aware of how deeply you loathed him. Your physical desires had long since faded, especially since you hadn’t seen or spoken to him in months. You had even gone so far as to move to a place he couldn’t find, cutting off every trace of connection, and the bond you once had.

Your skin ached with longing for him, your body and soul craving his touch once more. Yet, no matter how intense the desire, you would never allow him a single opportunity to return to your life.

It was a painful contradiction to bear—hating him, yet craving him all the same. You felt trapped, consumed by hopelessness, unable to escape the turmoil inside.

‘Sanitize

My head.’

You hadn’t moved far—just to the other side of Piltover, away from The Academy, the council, and—most importantly—-Jayce, himself.. The distance was a great relief. In your day-to-day life, there was no real risk of encountering him, and that small sense of safety gave you some peace of mind.

However…

You often found yourself testing that peace, pushing the boundaries of the distance you’d created. You weren’t entirely sure why—maybe it was the deep, unresolved desperation for him, or perhaps a semi-conscious, self-destructive choice of yours.

‘Death murders

Everything in sight.’

Each night, you found yourself walking almost the entire length of Piltover, from your new home to the Hexgate monolith on the far end—the very place you had fought so hard to escape.

Seeing the towering structure always left you with a deep, melancholic thrum in your chest. It represented everything you had once hoped for, everything you had worked and slaved over, now reduced to rubble by its mere presence.

‘Beneath the rip in the wind

The pillar push you aside.’

That tower stood as an unyielding symbol of betrayal, a constant reminder of the anger and anguish that had shattered your world at the mercy of Jayce’s hands.

‘If I make way

I can taste your sigh.

Just like the cannibal amp

It knows sound is size.’

On your nightly walks, you would make your way down the stone pier that lead to the water, your footsteps echoing in the quiet. When you reached the end, you’d grasp the railing that kept people from tumbling over the cliff’s edge, gluing yourself to the present moment.

‘Push me to

The brink, I said

Well that bitch

Is a creep

It tried to know what I think.’

There, you’d gaze up at the tower, lost in thought—re-evaluating and wondering how differently your life might have unfolded if Jayce hadn’t betrayed you—-if he hadn’t stolen your idea and torn everything apart.

‘To breathe out passion

Or suck in fate

You think the world was made

To wield your weight

And bleed out?’

Tonight was no different. Here you were, hood drawn—- hands shoved deep in your pockets—-your bodice pulled tight as you hunched in quiet disdain, eyes locked on nothing but the ground that passed underfoot.

Your expression was sour as you traced every wrong turn your life had taken to bring you here. Your chest felt heavy, as if the weight of it all pressed itself down upon you out of sheer spite.

Your mind buzzed, a relentless whirl of painful memories spinning in a dizzying menagerie inside your skull.

When your eyes met the stark, hauntingly familiar edifice, a sharper pang stabbed deep beneath your chest, more intense than you were accustomed to by now.

You weren’t sure why, of all nights, tonight seemed to bring out the most intense surge of feelings—especially since you found yourself unusually consumed by your thoughts this time around.

Especially since, long before Jayce had perfected the Hexgate, the two of you would often come here to find solace in the sound of the waves and the crisp air of the sea. You’d toss stones into the water, or compete to see who could throw them the furthest. The bittersweet memory of how often Jayce would taunt you for your lack of coordination only deepened the pain and anger digging at you.

You couldn’t control the mindless, almost reflexive way your body reacted to such intense feelings, in combination with the familiarity of the location. Without a second thought, your hand reached for a nearby rock, and before you even registered what you were doing, you hurled it as hard as you could toward the tower.

The tower, distant and perched far out in the water, seemed almost unreachable, and your rock barely made it halfway before splashing down into the water with a sound that felt like it mocked you in the same way Jayce had. You almost felt compelled to throw another rock, driven by some irrational need to make the first one atone for mocking you—despite the fact that it, like all other rocks, had no sentience to answer for its actions.

You gave in to the irrational impulse, bending down to pick up another rock, your mind still fixated on the need to make the previous one pay. But as your fingers closed around the stone, something in the corner of your vision made you pause. A pair of shoes—familiar, yet unknown—caught your eye. Shoes that were attached to feet. Feet that led up to legs. Legs that belonged to the hips and torso of an individual you couldn’t see beyond your hood.

The rock slipped from your hand, forgotten, as your attention shifted entirely to the figure standing behind you. You hadn’t heard a single indicating noise that you had been followed, or approached from behind.

The presence was sudden, unnerving, and yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to be afraid. If you were anywhere else, anywhere but Piltover, you’d be terrified. But here, in this ”city of wonders”, you couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow, you were still safe.

If anything, it was probably an enforcer, here to reprimand you for throwing rocks in the first place. You straightened up, brushing the thought aside, and turned to face whoever had been silently looming behind you.

As you spun around, you realized—this wasn’t an enforcer.

No, far from it.

The person standing there was more terrifying than any enforcer could ever be, and certainly more annoying, infuriating, and enraging to look upon, for lack of better words to describe the instant rush of wrath that overwhelmed you.

‘Am I the reason

That you can’t look past

Your future self?’

“Your aim is still pretty shit, sunshine.” He says plainly, the nickname he had always pegged you with burning in your ears.

Your blood ran cold as your eyes locked onto the disgustingly smug expression on his face. Every hair on your body stood on end, a shiver crawling up your spine as you stood face to face with the man you now regarded with nothing but utter disdain.

You freeze, unable to muster a response, your mind clouded with a storm of rage and contemptment.

Jayce’s gaze lingers on you, almost—dare you think it—in a way that seemed concerned, longing, and worst of all—-caring.

What a hypocrite. How dare he look at you like he actually cares?

‘Got me believin’

You’ve been stuck

And glued in frequent doubt.’

“Don’t give me that look,” you snap, your fingers twitching, aching to throw a rock at his face just to make him eat his words. For a split second, you actually consider it—and you’re sure Jayce can feel exactly what’s running through your mind as he observes the way your eyes flicker between his face, and the stone you had left behind.

“What look?” he asks, concern surging through his expression again.

Did this guy have a death wish, or was he really just that oblivious? Either way, you could crack instantaneously.

“That look. The fake concern,” you snap, your eyes dropping, fists tightening, teeth grinding.

“Fake…?” He pauses, clearly lost in thought as he crosses his arms over his chest, the hint of offense hanging off his words.

You fight the urge to lash out, to make him feel something stronger than pain.

‘I know the feeling

‘Cause I can’t keep

My mind open now.’

“Yes, fake, Jayce. As in insincere. Artificial,” you spit, taking a sharp breath.

“Ersatz,” you add, the word a bitter aftertaste.

Your words cut through the air with a venomous cadence, each syllable sharp and biting, a distasteful attempt to tear through him.

Jayce looked completely dumbfounded, as if his mind had been wiped clean. The stark look of gears no longer grinding in his brain was almost comical. He was daft, no doubt. You felt a twinge of pride prod your ego upon this realization.

You couldn’t bear to stay here, not this close to him, not after everything. The thought that he was only here to twist the knife deeper into your wounds was almost more than you could handle. Your emotions, raw and overwhelming, had already drained you, and you were done. You didn’t want to give him another moment—no chance for him to make things worse, or worse still, to somehow try and redeem himself. As if he ever could.

Steeling yourself, you gather what little dignity you have left and turn away, keeping your face carefully composed. As you pass him, you deliberately knock your shoulder against his, ricocheting his shoulders in the process, a silent and singular act of defiance as you walk away.

As if to intentionally make matters worse, Jayce turns after you, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist. He makes contact, swiftly pulling you back towards him.

“___, wait—” He begins, but his words are cut short as your hand slams into his cheek. You hadn’t necessarily meant to hit him, but the motion was as instinctive as throwing the rocks—your hand connecting with the flesh of his cheek before you even had a chance to stop it—not that you necessarily would have wanted to.

The way you had wound up the slap was only amplified by the sudden pull of his hand grabbing you mid-stride, forcing you back toward him. The momentum aided the force with which you struck him.

The weight of what you’d just done hit you all at once—grief, anger, relief, all crashing together. A small part of you, the part that still cared for him, was flooded with guilt. But the darker parts of you—those that hated him, that had longed to hurt him—felt a twisted satisfaction. Besides, it was his own fault that he had grabbed you.

You’d wanted to feel his skin beneath your hands, after all, and in an oddly perfect way, this had been the way to satiate that desire.

Jayce instantly released his grip on your wrist, his hand moving to cup the spot where your slap had left its mark.

“Ah…” he groaned, wincing as he cupped the stinging flesh. His eyes snapped shut, the pain unmistakably written all over his face.

You couldn’t tear your gaze away as he stood there, his hand pressed against the raw, reddened skin of his cheek, the mark of your slap still vivid and angry. The sight of it made your chest tighten, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was you were feeling. What should you feel in a moment like this? That was the question you could neither answer or shake.

You had already acknowledged, in a quiet corner of your mind, that there was a strange satisfaction in lashing out, even if it was tangled with the thorny weight of your own hurt. There was a cruel sort of release in it, one that both thrilled and disturbed you in equal measure. Your stomach churned as you fought to suppress the abhorrent feeling of shame that crept up on you.

You could feel your instincts urging you to escape—to run, to put distance between yourself and this raw, uncomfortable moment. But you chose not to listen. The urge to flee warred with something else, something deeper, a curiosity that had begun to take root. You wanted to see how this would unfold, to witness how this tension would resolve, if it would resolve at all. The satisfaction you had felt from that sharp, ringing slap was undeniable. Maybe it had been a way to expel some of the pain that had been building inside you for so long. Maybe, just maybe, it was worth confronting whatever came next, just to relieve yourself of that heaviness, even if only for a moment.

‘Make up your mind,

We’re running out of time.’

Your heart sunk as you saw the essence of betrayal soon sweep across his face. Yet, simultaneously, that added to the anger you felt. He, of all people, felt betrayal? After the way he betrayed you? That look of his repulsed you.

He looked at you, disbelief written all over his face, his expression a mixture of shock and hurt. His hand lingered on his cheek, still tender from the sting of your slap, as though he couldn’t quite grasp the reality of the moment. The look he gave you was one of genuine confusion, as if he couldn’t fathom why you were so consumed by anger.

“___…” His voice cracked slightly, heavy with emotion, but still full of that familiar, passionate lilt, the kind that used to make your heart race. When he whispered your name—softly, almost reverently—it was as if the sound of it pained him.

‘Doubt is failure

By design.’

His eyes searched yours, full of questions that hung in the air, unanswered. Why had you struck him? Why this sudden violence? The pain in his gaze only seemed to stoke the fire inside you, making the anger flare even hotter, more reckless.

“Don’t look at me like that. Like you don’t know exactly what that was for,” you spat, each word sharp, each syllable dripping with a tang that tasted like metal on your tongue. But as the words left you, the anger morphed into something far more fragile, far more devastating. Your heart seemed to crack with the weight of it, the betrayal, the hopelessness. The tears welled up, blurring your vision as your chest tightened with sorrow.

“Why… why are you so blind to everything you’ve done?” you choked out.

“To everything we had… everything you destroyed… just so you could chase your fucking dreams?”

Your fists balled at your sides, the muscles in your arms trembling from the effort of keeping control, even though your voice shook with the strain of holding back the tidal wave of emotion threatening to break free.

‘I’m burning up

Can only take

So much.’

“What about my dreams, Jayce? What about our dreams?” you cried, your voice rising, your words feeling like they could burn everything in their path. Every inch of you ached—your body, your heart, your soul—all of it pulled taut like a string ready to snap. You didn’t know how much longer you could keep it in.

“What made sealing your own future—your destiny—more important than what we built together?” you demanded, the question sitting in the air between you like a dagger.

“Why was your ambition more sacred than our bond? More sacred than us?”

Your voice cracked on the last word, your breath coming in short, jagged gasps. The tears spilled over, leaving hot trails down your face, but you stood your ground, unwilling to back down. This—this pain, this heartbreak—was something you needed to admit, needed him to hear.

“How dare you steal my idea. How dare you take the credit, and disparage it with your stupid, fucking, magic.” You were shouting now, your voice ringing through the night air, raw and unfiltered, the weight of your anger shattering the silence that had settled over everything. The contrast between your fury and the stillness of the evening was jarring—your words felt like they were tearing through the quiet, reverberating off the walls of the world around you.

“Your idea?!” he exclaimed in response, his voice rising sharply, cutting through your tirade. He stepped forward, closing the distance between you in a few purposeful strides, his figure towering over you, his height and presence suddenly far more imposing than you remembered. His broad shoulders blocked the space between you, his stance firm, as if challenging you to face him head-on.

‘I know you

Can feel it

It’s catching up

It’s getting too heavy

For both of us.’

“Since when was it your idea?” His words were fast, biting with frustration, and he was unrelenting as he moved closer, his eyebrows knit together in upset.

“‘Cause the way I remember it—we both wanted change. We both wanted to make Piltover a better, more advanced city.” His voice was now an angry force, his face craning down to meet yours, his eyes sharp, trying to drill the point home. He wasn’t asking anymore—he was demanding you understand.

But what hit you most in that moment wasn’t just his words. It was the way his anger had suddenly shifted everything. For the first time in your life, you felt small compared to him. You had never seen him like this—not even annoyed, not in all the time you had spent together. Jayce had always been the steady one, the calm, the voice of reason. But now, his fury felt like a storm—intense, unpredictable, and completely foreign. The force of it left you unsettled, and taken aback, to say the least.

You didn’t know how to react to this. His anger was like a tidal wave, knocking the ground out from under you, and for the first time, you realized just how much power he had over you—how much he could command just by his sheer presence. The towering figure in front of you, his jaw clenched, eyes burning with emotion, made your chest tighten. You didn’t know what to do with this. His anger was new, and in some way, it was almost more frightening than anything you had ever faced.

‘We lie

Cold.’

You were baffled, not just by the words he was saying, but by the way he was saying them—like a person you didn’t recognize.

You parted your lips, ready to continue the tirade that had built up in your chest, but before you could get another word out, Jayce’s voice cut you off, raw and jagged. He didn’t give you a chance to speak, his frustration spilling over, each word more desperate than the last.

“You left me. Here. Alone.” His voice cracked, trembling under the weight of everything he, too, left unsaid, considering how you fled before he ever got a chance to explain himself. It wasn’t just anger in his tone anymore; it was pain. The kind that came from a place so deep you couldn’t ignore it, no matter how hard you tried.

“I did what I thought was best for us.” He stepped closer, his voice rising in volume, matching the intensity of your own.

“I proved what I was trying to prove. For us. For our collective aspirations.” The words came faster now, fueled by the overwhelming rush of emotion that was beginning to boil over in him.

“I worked my ass off to make sure that, with the help of my Hextech, your trade routes could flourish,” he spat, his anger now matching yours, raw and unrelenting. His face was inches from yours, his breath hot as he glared down at you.

“I won’t stand here and let you blame me, let you hate me, for acting out of what I thought was selflessness at the time. I’ve gone to bat for you, countless times, to make sure you got the credit you deserved.”

His own fists clenched at his sides, the strain of his words almost too much to bear.

“But you ran. You left, assuming my only goal was to use you, when in reality, all I ever tried to do was support you.”

His words slammed into you like a physical blow, and for a second, you were paralyzed by the force of them. But then the anger surged again, hot and insistent. Support you? The bitterness twisted in your gut, and before you even thought about it, the words exploded from your mouth.

“Support me?!” You shouted, the sound ringing through the night like a bell, sharp and accusing.

“That’s what you call abandoning me to take a seat in the highest of towers?” You could feel the heat of your own fury rising to meet his, and without thinking, you shoved both hands into his chest, pushing him back with all the force you could muster.

Jayce stumbled backward, caught off guard by the sheer force of your anger, and you weren’t done. You shoved him again, harder this time, your hands pressing against his chest until he hit the railing behind him with a loud clang. The sound echoed in the air, but you didn’t care.

“In the council, no less?! Leaving me here to fend for myself in your fucking shadow?!” Your voice was hoarse now, each scream louder and more desperate than the last. You pushed him once more, as if trying to push the weight of everything you felt, everything you couldn’t hold onto anymore, into him.

The tears you’d held back were streaming freely down your face, but there was no stopping them now. The hurt, the betrayal—it all came pouring out in that single moment. The fury and heartbreak swirled together, a force you couldn’t control, and all you could do was scream at him until your voice gave out, until he understood just how much you had suffered because of his choices.

‘Dam up the river,

We can go, slow.’

Jayce had finally reached his limit. The shouting, the anger, the constant back and forth—it was all too much. He could see now that no matter what he said, nothing would make you stop. The argument had spiraled into something beyond reason, and every word he spoke only seemed to fuel your fire. You weren’t listening anymore; you were just lashing out, consumed by rage.

Enough was enough.

‘Dull down our senses,

Become numb.’

When you shoved him again, anger blinding you, Jayce reacted quickly. His patience had worn thin, and he wasn’t about to let this go any further.

The next time your hands came at him, he caught your wrists with a swift, forceful motion, crossing them tightly over each other. Before you could react, he shoved your arms into your chest, locking you in place. Then, without warning, he spun you around, pulling you harshly against him so that your back was pressed to his chest. His grip tightened, his arms like iron bands, preventing you from thrashing away.

‘Mirin myself

All by myself.’

“Stop.” His voice was low, sharp, and commanding, vibrating against your ear as his chest caged you in. You could feel the heat of his body, the raw tension in every inch of him as he held you close, his strength completely overpowering your attempts to break free.

“___, for fucks sake! Stop!” He demands, one of his enormous hands moving to take hold of both of your wrists while the other clamped down around your jaw, bringing your face towards your shoulder, where his own chin rested in this position.

Jayce had no choice. He knew how stubborn you were, how deeply you clung to your anger when you were hurt, and how you’d never stop until you’d worn yourself out—if you ever did. But right now, he couldn’t wait for that to happen. He couldn’t let you run away from him anymore.

With one sharp, decisive movement, his lips crashed into yours. It was hard, hungry, demanding—a complete storm of sensation that left no room for resistance. Your eyes went wide in shock, your breath hitching as you tried to pull back, but he followed, his mouth pressing harder against yours, refusing to let you break free.

‘Feel the caress, so sweet

Done by my hand.’

You gasped, the sound caught between your lips, and before you could protest, his kiss deepened, his tongue slipping past your lips, twisting with yours in a way that both startled and confused you. You cried out into his mouth, the noise muffled, as his hold on you tightened, his body pressing closer to yours, grounding you in place.

Every part of you wanted to push him away, to shout, to keep fighting, but Jayce’s kiss was relentless—an anchor pulling you deeper into silence. He wasn’t pulling back, not until you stopped fighting, until you let go of that anger long enough to breathe.

And though you still burned with fury, something about the way he held you, the way his presence swallowed you whole, made it harder and harder to keep struggling.

No matter how much you had longed for his touch, how desperately you had yearned for him to kiss you like this again, you couldn’t bring yourself to accept it in a moment like this. Not when everything inside you was still burning with anger and hurt.

‘Polishing this frame of mind,

Jacked it up an ax to grind.’

You fought against him, your body stiff and tense, desperately trying to pull away from his overwhelming presence. Each movement was a silent refusal, a stubborn resistance to the way his kiss was pulling at your very core.

‘Duck n’ dodge,

Stay unaligned.'

But it was futile. You were already drained, your energy spent from the crying, the shouting, the endless cycle of rage that had led you here. As his lips pressed more insistently against yours, the fight in you began to falter. The need to escape, the impulse to run, slowly began to dissolve with every second his lips lingered on yours, and his tongue explored the depths of your mouth. What remained was the sharp sting of your rage, but even that felt like it was starting to ebb.

Gradually, your body softened, the tension in your muscles melting away. The fight left you, piece by piece, until you sighed against his mouth, the sound muffled but unmistakable. With a subtle shift, your head tilted just enough to give him more room, more access, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to stop fighting. The kiss deepened, and in that quiet surrender, Jayce released a long, relieved breath, sensing your body finally easing into his touch.

‘My recognition face

Some get withered

Some get fried.’

You kissed him back after great hesitation, your lips and tongue moving urgently against his, as if you were trying to make up for every lost moment in a single, heated breath. There was no holding back now. The memories, the longing, everything that had been buried deep inside you erupted all at once, and your mouth moved hungrily against his, each movement a desperate attempt to relive the intimacy you’d once shared.

‘I know we talked about

The shit we did

Each time.’

His grip on your wrists faltered, weakening as you started to turn toward him fully. The distance between you closed rapidly, and soon, your chest was pressed flush against his, your body responding to his presence with an intensity you couldn’t control. As your hands were freed, they instinctively traveled up to his face, your thumb brushing over the spot where you’d struck him only minutes before, feeling the remnants of your anger there, now mingling with something else.

‘Polishing this frame of mind

Jacked it up an ax to grind.’

You cupped his face, fingers digging into his jaw, pulling him even closer as if trying to erase the distance between you, to melt into him and make up for the time and pain that had come before. The urgency in your movements was raw and frantic, a wordless plea to feel everything at once—to collapse the anger, the longing, and the need that had built up inside you into this single, desperate connection.

‘Duck n’ dodge

Stay unaligned

My recognition face.’

His hands roamed over your body, searching for any way to pull you closer, his touch growing more insistent as he settled them on your hips, pulling you into him. The physical closeness only heightened the tension, the desire, but also something darker—something that still lingered between you—lust.

Though you no longer felt the need to escape, your rage simmered just below the surface, burning deep in your chest. It wasn’t gone, not by a long shot. It still gnawed at you, demanding to be felt, demanding some kind of reckoning. Part of you wanted to make him feel it, make him understand the depth of your pain. You wanted him to know what you had been through all this time.

‘Am I the reason

That you can’t

Look past your future self?’

Your tongue retracted for a moment, and you pressed your teeth against his bottom lip, the bite sharp enough to sting. It was a flash of anger, mixed with the heat of desire, and it caught Jayce off guard. You had shared passionate moments before, but nothing quite like this—nothing that carried this much intensity. He flinched at the sudden sharpness, but in that moment, something in him sparked, that familiar fire of tension growing even stronger.

If that’s what it would take to break the tension, then he’d oblige.

Jayce’s hand tangled into your hair, pulling you closer, his grip tightening. The sensation of your hair in his hand, the pressure, sent a breathless sound escaping from you—something between a gasp and a soft exhale. It was involuntary, the sound mixing with the heat building between you. Jayce had always longed to hear that from you, to feel that connection, and now that it was happening, he couldn’t stop.

For far too long, Jayce had denied himself any form of physical connection. Since you left, he’d been forced to bury his desire for you deep inside, locking it away with a painful awareness that nothing—no touch, no embrace—could compare to what he had shared with you. Each passing day, he became more acutely aware of the emptiness that lingered, knowing that any contact with anyone else would only serve as a stark reminder of the craving that burned for you.

‘Got me believin’

You’ve been stuck

And glued in frequent doubt.’

He tightened his grip, drawing another soft sound from you, the mix of pleasure and tension in the air thickening. His focus was solely on you now, on the way your body responded, on the sounds you made, and how this moment—this raw, unguarded moment—was pulling both of you closer to the unspoken lust that couldn’t be denied a moment longer.

You can’t help but let out a filthy little moan, whimpering along with it.

A shameless, guttural moan, that sent Jayce’s head into a spiral. He had been beyond desperate to coax those kinds of noises out of you for what felt like too long of an eternity. He was in no position to deny himself the opportunity to keep drawing them out of you.

His hands curled into a fist as he yanked on your hair, whimpers flying out of you like a flock of birds.

If you wanted to fight dirty, Jayce was game.

“Fuck..” He breathes out—eager, like a starved man who stumbled upon a banquet— as he pulls away from your lips, immediately pressing them against the skin of your neck he had exposed from his grip on your locks. He let his teeth drag along the skin, biting and harshly sucking on it in several places. Your reaction was deathly arousing. The slightly pained cries that flowed beside ones of pleasure sent Jayce’s burning temptation into orbit.

He knew you needed him in the way he had once gotten used to providing for you. His cock throbbed beneath his slacks, desperate to break free from the confines of the cloth that kept it contained.

It was arguably harder than it had ever been, his anger and inability to have you for so long adding fuel to the fire of his pure incessant need to bury himself deep inside you.

‘I know the feeling

Cause I can’t keep

My mind open now.’

Oh, how you both longed to be connected like that again. In the way all lovers know well—their unspoken second nature.

He ruts his hips against yours, your own body responding instinctively by meeting them in their attempt to seek friction.

You both emit low grunts at the new sensation, satiating the tension for now.

You felt as though you were being scorched from within, the intense heat of your desire and simmering rage intertwining, each stoking the other in a relentless blaze. Every nerve burned with an insatiable hunger, a craving that went beyond pleasure, pulling you deeper into a whirlwind of both ecstasy and agony.

You needed more—not just the thrill of sensation, but the raw, cathartic pain that seemed to heighten the fire within you. Your soul ached for an outlet, something that would satisfy the chaotic tension, where your lust and frustration could collide, erupting into something that might finally ease the raging storm inside.

You snaked your arms around his neck, giving a small jump into him as you anchored onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist. He hums darkly in reaction to the sudden motion, his hands releasing their clasp on your hair to instead latch onto the bottom of your ass—-supporting you as you clung to him.

Jayce’s head shot up from it’s spot between your head and chest, moving to a new vantage point in order to scan the area. He was a man with a mission.

A mission to uncover the perfect place, somewhere secluded and unremarkable—a refuge hidden from the world where he could channel the fury between you with ruthless intensity. It had to be a spot where nothing could interrupt the raw, unfiltered release of tension—a place where every movement, every act, could be as drastic and unforgiving as the anger that surged through both of you.

Needless to say—and in an extremely simple turn of phrase—-He needed to fuck the rage out of you— and he would stop at nothing to do so.

After a few tense moments, Jayce focused, his eyes landing on the perfect hidden corner in all of Piltover. His grip tightened on you as he began to lead you toward it. The alleyway was small and shadowed, tucked between two shops that had long since closed for the night. The buildings on either side pressed in tightly, their walls forming a dark, narrow passage that swallowed any light. The darkness obscured it from street lamps and passersby, though Jayce hardly seemed at all concerned about the possibility of wandering eyes, anyway.

The alley itself was already tucked away from the main streets, but the particular spot his intentions were set on was even more concealed—through the alley and to the right, behind the buildings entirely, not just in between.

Overhanging eaves, garbage bins and scattered crates cloaked the area, creating a thick, impenetrable shadow. It was a secluded pocket, completely hidden from view, untouched by the faintest glimmer from the street beyond.

A perfect haven of obscurity, though the lack of any inviting scenery was hardly worth a second thought. The cracked cobblestones, the faint smell of damp earth, rotting trash, and the forgotten clutter of the alley seemed irrelevant. In a place like this, where shadows held sway, scenery had no claim. Nothing mattered but the raw, pressing heat of the moment.

You sank your teeth into his neck, your hands exploring his shoulders with a quiet, persistent need. He groaned beneath your bite, his un-abating lust taking the lead furthermore, as he harshly slammed your back against the abrasive stone walls of the building. His mouth was quick to covet yours once more, lips voraciously seeking stimulation from them.

Your sensual tango of lips pressing against each other, hips grating and rutting into each other’s carried out, Jayce beginning to make quick work of exposing you to the elements, his cock still hard as ever as it brushed against your clit beneath the layers of clothing. You can’t help but whimper out in response.

With the new advantage of pinning you to the stone wall—-combined with the leverage of your legs still around his waist—-his hands grew eager, rushing to tear your blouse apart. His fingers slid between the buttons of the opening, pushing through the seam before he gripped tight and wrenched it apart. Several buttons flew free, briefly distracting from the sharp bite of the cold air against the newly exposed skin.

You couldn’t help but whine into the cavern of his mouth, the rough display of lust redirecting all of your aching and longing straight to your clit. It throbbed with intent, a desperate reminder that you needed more friction. You greedily rolled your hips into his, yielding another low, filthy grunt from Jayce.

“Fuck.” He pants against your mouth, hands kneading at your breasts, cock twitching beneath his trousers.

Oh, how he longed to revisit the memories of your past encounters, to re-enact the acts of pleasure he had learned to bring you. But in such a moment, he couldn’t bring himself to slow down. As much as he yearned to please you in the ways he’d spent so much time discovering, there was no time, now. The urgency of the present situation demanded everything from him. If he didn’t bury his cock deep within you, right now, and fuck you senseless, he’d probably keel over.

This was his last chance. His only chance to rewrite your history.

‘Am I the reason,

That you can’t look past,

Your future self?’

Without a second’s hesitation, Jayce tore your legs from his waist, practically dropping you to the ground. In one swift motion, he flipped you around, pressing your cheek forcefully into the cold stone wall with one hand. You groan out, the harsh force of his motions prodding your deep-seated anger once more. His chin reclaims its resting point on your shoulder, teeth claiming your earlobe between them as he pressed his mouth to your ear. You groan out of sudden distaste for the new position.

”Don’t act like you didn’t want to end up under me like this.” He growls into it, the words viscerally stabbing at your clit, earning a thirsty cry from you.

He spread your legs with his feet, his free hand clambering to release his throbbing cock from it’s fabric prison. He yanked your pants down, the sound of his belt clinking sending shivers up your spine as your cunt pulsated in anticipation.

You were beyond wet—the word a dull description of the way your cunt was absolutely sopping, dripping, and practically gushing for him.

Despite your evident arousal, you weren’t used to things happening so fast. You began to protest as your back arched against his brawny, bold, and burly chest.

“Jayce— wait!” You started to say, before his teeth clamped down onto your earlobe with increased vigor, your words fading into torrid moans as a result.

He pulls your underwear to the side, fist pumping his deprived cock before he lined himself up with your soaking cunt.

“Shut up and take my fuckin’ cock.” He barked.

Before you even had a chance to breathe, he plowed into you, curling his hips up to press flush against your ass. You had no choice but to brace yourself. Your hands flew to the cold stone wall, gripping tightly to keep from collapsing under the force of it all.

The sound that tore from deep within your chest was raw, loud enough to make anyone within a hundred feet of the building take concerned notice. Anyone outside of you and Jayce would have assumed you were being murdered.

It was a deliciously vile sound, thick with want, neediness, desperation, and all the emotions you had yet resolved.

“Fuck!” You scream, tears stinging in your eyes as Jayce began slamming up into you with at an absolutely merciless pace. He wasted no time by giving you a single moment to adjust, knowing full well the rough nature was exactly what the situation called for. If he didn’t give this his all, everything was at stake. Or so he thought.

His thrusts were, at their core, crude—filthy, vulgar.

Lascivious.

They had an animalistic quality, one that attested to his own desires, and the hurtful longing he had harbored for you.

Jayce grunted, huffing out as he ruthlessly snapped his hips against the flesh of your ass. He plunged his teeth into the skin of your shoulder, the hand that held your face against the stone withdrew from you. Jayce pulled it beneath your arm, wrapping around your chest to imperviously grip at your breast, using his hold on it to further aid in the force with which he was bucking into you.

His other hand moved to your neck, fingers tightening around it with a possessive grip. The pressure forced the air from your lungs, and you gasp, the sound barely escaping as your breath becomes shallow. You squirm, struggling to breathe, but his hold doesn’t loosen. Instead, it pulls you in deeper, mixing fury with hunger. Each ragged breath, each flicker of resistance only seems to make it worse, the heat between you both building in the space where anger and desire collide.

“Fuck you.” He spat out in sync with his thrusts.

“Fuck.” —thrust.

“You.” —thrust.

“For.” —thrust.

“Leaving.” Thrust, thrust, thrust.

The words he spat out were coated in intent, each one seething with the same anger that simmered inside of him. The way he moved, pounding into you, was frantic, his hips driven by a fire that seemed to consume him.

‘Got me believin’

You’ve been

Stuck and glued

In frequent doubt.’

You could feel it, the heat coursing through his veins with every thrust—his body shaking with the intensity of it. There was nothing controlled about the way he gripped you, no tenderness. Just a reckless, furious need, each movement angry, as if he were fighting to push the rage out of his body and into you.

His soul had been set ablaze, and all you could do was feel the burn.

“Agh—“ You pant, air still desperate to escape your lungs as he clenched your throat.

“F-fuck you for—-Pretending like—-you care.” You choke out.

Jayce’s blood boils, his grip on your throat tightening beyond the point of care.

“Pretending like I care?” He pants as well, exhausting himself from the force with which he was railing his cock up into you.

“I care. More than—anyone—sunshine.” He very well shouts, words still in sync with his thrusts, on exhaling with each. He was absolutely plowing you now, the familiar nickname cutting through the air that surrounded you.

You were groaning out in pleasure and pain, the contrasting feelings mixing into one as he continued his relentless assault on your cervix.

“T-Then why—-why couldn’t you just—-“ Your lungs begged for air.

“Love me—-like I love—- you?” You gasp, your voice barely audible above the hunger for air.

‘I know the feeling

Cause I can’t

Keep my mind

Open now.’

Jayce’s movements stopped abruptly, his hands yanking away from you as if struck by a sudden realization. You gasped, breath catching painfully in your throat, stumbling back into the wall, your body desperate for air that was slow to come. The intensity that had fueled him moments before seemed to drain in an instant, leaving you gasping in the silence.

Jayce felt an overwhelming wave of guilt crash over him, sharp and suffocating, like a bucket of ice-cold water being poured straight over his head. It hit him all at once, a gut-punch of realization that mirrored the guilt he had seen on your face earlier when you slapped him—raw, unfiltered, and impossible to escape. His chest tightened, a heaviness settling in his stomach as he stood there, frozen, unable to look at you.

His hips stilled, his body rigid as the anger that had driven him to this point shifted, replaced by something softer—-sadder. His heart felt heavy in his chest, sinking like a stone in water.

All that was left in the alley was the erratic—-uneven sound of your breathing, each inhale a struggle, sweat slicking your skin, catching the light of the moon in fragile glimmers. The silence stretched out, thick with unspoken tension, the weight of what had just transpired hanging between you like a shroud, heavy and unresolved.

His mind was a blur, thoughts scattered and jumbled, short-circuiting in a way that left him dizzy. He couldn’t make sense of the guilt spiraling through him, the crushing weight of having crossed a line he hadn’t even seen until it was too late. Until you said what you had said.

That you loved him.

He removes his chest from your back, pulling himself out of you in the process.

Jayce reached for you, his hands trembling as he gently grasped your shoulders, his touch softer than it had been all night. His fingers barely brushed your skin, as if afraid to make contact after everything that had just happened. With a careful, almost reverent motion, he spun you around to face him. The moment your eyes met, his chest seemed to cave in on itself, a sickening weight settling there.

His heart felt like it had physically dropped, plummeting to the pit of his stomach with a sickening thud. The sight of you, tears streaking down your face, the raw anguish in your expression—it shattered him. Every ounce of anger, every moment of fury that had driven him earlier seemed like a distant memory in the face of the heartbreak he had caused.

How could he have been so reckless? The thought screamed in his mind, impossible to silence. The guilt that gripped him now was suffocating, crushing. He’d seen your pain in the heat of the moment, but now it hit him full force—really hit him. The tears in your eyes weren’t just a reminder of what he’d done; they were a reflection of how far he had pushed you, how little he had cared in the frenzy of his own anger.

And now, standing in front of you, he couldn’t undo it. All he could do was stare at the damage he had inflicted, helpless, terrified of what he’d become.

“___…” He whispers.

[spikezonebby]

this time i do have horny stuff for you. bad month to have the idea in but oh well. I have this strange HC that Cybertronians are really sensitive in certain parts, for example, a Seeker's wing tips, or just any Cybertronian's spark chamber.

So I had this idea. A human builds a device, basically a fucking rose toy but more hidden. Calls the poor test subject Transformer over and asks them to open their chassis, put the device on their spark chamber, and fucking turns it on. Basically its like putting a vibrator on their clit....

Listen Ghosty we don't worry too much about no-nut-november around here. We're around for a good time not a long time. Heads up, this one got away from me.

Sex toys, spark chamber stimulation, and orgasm denial under the cut! Also a little KOBD with Knocks being a menace. Do I also tag pet humans? It's mentioned once. Eh not gonna tag it, it's not worth hunting for if you're into it lol

Now the *spark chamber* being sensitive? Oh that's a fun one. I thought about the spark because duh, spark merging. But the chamber? Kinda makes sense when you think about it because you gotta know when your important internals are being harmed.

The idea of sticking a rose vibrator on one of them though is hilarious lmao imagine if it's someone like Prowl or Shockwave with a huge chassis so they *can't reach it to take it off.*

What are some other Cybertronians with big chassis that wouldn't be able to reach it? Breakdown probably. TFP Predaking? Predaking is hilarious too because he's so HUGE can you imagine him trying to scrape his huge servos over his chamber to knock it off and he keeps missing it?

There's a size element here too because this could be good on *anyone* huge. TFP Megatron with a mischievous pet human that stuck it on him when he was recharging and it's not strong enough to get him off but it is strong enough for him to notice it.

All the time.

For hours on end.

And he's got big servos, he probably can't even pinpoint exactly where it is! Even worse if it's someone who just keeps turning it off and on periodically.

On the note with Breakdown I feel like-- if you follow me for kobd reasons-- Knocks would love torturing poor BD with it. He already thinks the humans have good tastes in horror movies and cars, he can probably appreciate their ingenuity when it comes to sex too. Plus, he seems like the type to think a rose vibrator would be cute. He'd display his sex toys as little art pieces around his room.

So Breakdown definitely gets one stuck on his spark chamber where he can't reach it. Maybe this is Knock Out's way of revving his conjunx up for some rough interfacing that night? On the occasion Knocks does want to get knocked around by BD, he's gotta properly wind him up first so Breaks can just ENTIRELY ruin him.

Or accidentally make BD overload like six times throughout the day. Knocks is having fun anyway.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[<==PREV PAGES] [NEXT PAGE==>(not out yet.wait a year.or maybe more.imagine.]

saw alot of comments on prev pages; saying 'i HATE that mean teacher! im gonna FIGHT HIM!!' & i LOVE the energy!! it WOULD be nice. to have that catharsis. but the story of young tidestrider is Not one of catharsis. it is a story of being so small and so special and sucking so bad.

[dogin8]

Look. I'll be so honest with you rn, speak your truth, there's a billion and one things to criticize schlatt for, and it's totally fair to be uncomfortable seeing people you like or enjoy interacting with him. But Jaiden and Schlatt are. for real friends. Every time she does content with him she makes references to either, having watched his other content or their interactions offline.

And like, she's choosing to be on these shows, she went on chucklesandwich a while back as well and like, that podcast repeatedly has guests cancel for any or no reason without a fuss. She chose to be there, she chose to be in this video as well.

I have so much respect for you i fr don't mean any disrespect or hate by this, disliking Schlatt is super understandable and fine, but I wanted to clarify this, and also that I'm a schlatt liker, and this is a post about Schlatt's new channel, and I'm not 10000% sure why you reblogged this

this is funny to me.

[rweoutofthewoods]

fanfic/fandom ettiquite guide

Okay, I've seen some things recently that make me think there is some need to make a master post of some general fandom and fic ettiquite just because some people may not know and I think there's a huge wave of fanfic becoming more mainstream especially on apps like tiktok.

If you don't like it, don't engage with it!! I think this above all, is the golden rule of fandom. The internet is made for you to be able to mute, hide, and censor things you don't like. DO THAT! don't make a career off of hating things. This goes along with the three laws of fandom, which u should check out FIRST OF ALL.

DON'T GATEKEEP!! If you're posting about a fic, art, ANYTHING link it, credit it! Don't post a tiktok about a fic and then refuse to give the name. Not only are you failing to credit the creators of this content, but you're taking away from the fact that fandom is a COMMUNITY where content is meant for everyone.

Ao3 is an archive. You're going to see things you might not like or even find offensive or uncomfortable. But fanfic is not meant to be censored. Ao3 is made to be unfiltered, people can post anything and everything. Posting fics on other sites simply to shame their content not only brings MORE attention to it, but it's pointless. If you want a website that is censored go to wattpad. And of course, if you don't like it DON'T READ. You can filter your tags and warnings on ao3 so it won't show you that content.

Along those lines LEARN HOW TO USE AO3. There is no algorithm, it is not tiktok. You don't need to censor words in your tags. Your fics are not magically getting pushed out to people. Make sure you're using "person 1/person 2" for romantic relationships and "person 1 & person 2" for non-romantic relationships. Make sure things like non-con and underage are tagged under the warnings. AND AS A READER, know how to filter ships and tags to find the content you want. You can filter by kudos, certain tags, exclude certain relationships or characters etc. USE IT.

Do not create placeholder fics or other "non fics" on ao3. This is against their terms of service. You can (and probably will) be reported, this annoys people endlessly. We don't want to find a fic and open it to see "I haven't written this yet, sorry!" JUST SAVE A DRAFT OR DO IT IN A DOCUMENT? this seems like way to rack up hits, and it comes across as disingenuous, I don't see a real valid reason to make placeholders.

HOW TO WRITE AN ACCEPTABLE COMMENT: long is not important. A simple "loved this!" will make an author happy. DO NOT say any variation of "update pls?" regardless of how nice you think it is. Authors update when they can.I'm not the only author I've seen unhappy with this. JUST WAIT, either it will be updated or it won't, and either way you will live. If you have nothing nice to say about a fic?? MOVE ON. Don't leave a hate comment.

Do not rate or publicly shit on fanfic! A lot of authors know many people, and the chances of that author seeing whatever you're saying about their work is very high. If you don't like it, click off and read something else. If it's still living rent-free in your mind, that sounds like fan behavior to me. And there is no standard fics are supposed to meet, don't rate them.

Don't cross-post fics. Don't put fics on other sites, don't put translation on other sites. DON'T DO ANYTHING with a fic without checking with the author first. On that note, also don't post fics on GoodReads etc. unless an author explicitly says it's okay.

IF YOU DO NOT MARK YOUR BOOKMARKS AS PRIVATE AUTHORS CAN SEE THEM!! If you're going to say anything that isn't positive, you better mark that as private or better yet, move on. Don't say anything on a public bookmark you wouldn't want the author to read.

YOU CANNOT PROFIT OFF OF FANFIC, don't sell bound fics! Don't bind fics if the intention is to sell them. You're potentially creating a lawsuit for the authors of these fics and putting the existence of fanfic in danger. I've seen multiple authors debating taking fics down because of binding issues, just don't do it. AND IF YOU'RE BUYING BOUND FICS YOU'RE PART OF THE PROBLEM. it's selfish and I wish bad karma upon you.

You wouldn't think I'd have to say this but don't plagiarize or use AI to create fics/art etc. firstly making ai write something IS a form of plagiarism. bUT ALSO just write your own content. If you can't, then writing fics etc. is just not for you. No shame about it!

DON'T ASK AUTHORS TO BETA FOR YOU!! You wouldn't believe how many people have asked me to beta their fics for them, I AM NOT A BETA. I HAVE a beta because my proofreading skills are shit. If someone wants to beta they will offer, or go find a blog or somewhere where people are looking to beta. Like @needabeta You can even make a post asking around for a beta, but don't go bug your favorite authors to proofread your fics.

Really just don't harass authors. Of course, don't be afraid to send nice dms, asks, or comments if their inbox is open, but don't spam them especially if they don't reply. Respect boundaries! Don't send nasty anons, everyone knows this is a sign of jealousy and obsession. You're only succeeding in making yourself look bad. Ask yourself why is this author living rent-free in your mind, hm??

If you don't like a ship, stay away from the content geared towards that ship. There's no reason for you to be in people's inbox harassing them over a ship. It's never that deep. If you truly hate it so much, go consume the content for ships you DO like.

Stay grounded. This goes to both fic authors and readers alike. Hits and popularity are not the mark of a good fic. Getting a lot of hits doesn't mean it's good and NOT getting many doesn't mean it's bad. I'm tired of seeing tiktoks asking "so what's the next big fic?" WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE A "BIG FIC"? go look through the ao3 tag and find something you like to read, it doesn't have to be what everyone else is reading.

Headcanons are not law. People can think whatever they want about the characters. If you disagree with someone's hc, just move on... and just because a headcanon is popular, doesn't mean everyone has to abide by it. Be creative!

Don't treat artists and authors like celebs! We're all in this together! We're all losers who like the same characters and ships. Of course, compliment and be kind to all creators because we put a lot of time and effort into creating fan content for you all, but don't worship anyone. Don't treat them weirdly or make a post like "omg x followed me!" that's a bit weird. If you want to be excited, dm your friends and giggle together, but acting like authors and artists etc. are celebs only creates the room for people to stop seeing them as normal people and start acting rude or entitled. And many people are uncomfortable with it!!

TLDR; stop creating so much negativity in fandom spaces. At least in MY fandom it's just constantly shitting on ships, fics, art. It's hate anons, antis, and constant fighting about every headcanon. I'M TIRED OF IT! Learn to filter out content you don't want to see, and move on with your life instead of spreading more negativity.

If you have anything you think I should add shoot me a comment or an ask and I will add it! I'm sure I didn't get everything :) this mostly applies to my own experience being in the hp/marauders fandom for a good 10+ years, and I'm sure it varies slightly from fandom to fandom.

[chlorinecake]

Imagine slow but rough sex with Jungwon cause he found out that you were not being yourself.

"Baby's not feeling well, hm?

"yeah, fuck everyone. But, I can fuck you up harder"

"Insecure? Baby, you got a pussy that can make any man pray"

"Cry over my cock instead, yeah?"

Fuck Now, Talk Later | Y.JW

▹ PAIRING : soft dom! bf! jungwon x subby! gf!reader

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ SUMMARY : Just Jungwon fucking your tears away with a bit of rough COMFORT SEX because you’re too pretty to cry over anything other than his cock.

▹ CONTAINS : ⚠︎ swearing, kissing, praise kink, pet names (angel, kitty, good girl), unprotected sex (cowgirl variations), mild dacryphilia, mentions of insecurities, reference to cigar use

▹ WORD COUNT : 2.2k — special tags for my fellow won-girlies @candewlsy and @theothernads ⋆.˚

Your eyebrows that were once screwed into little bows of frustration atop your face had finally popped, a stream of tears spilling over your cheeks as you ran straight to your bedroom, where you sobbed your sorrows into the sheets…

It wasn’t long before your boyfriend Jungwon realized you had got back home from hanging with your friends already, though…

Standing up from his reading nook in the living room, he went off in search for you, following the hushed sounds of your cries all the way to the bedroom.

And there you were… curled up into a tight ball of sadness as you sniffled beneath the sole comfort of your zip-down hoodie, hiding your face from him.

“Aww,” your boyfriend started gently, walking over to sit beside you on the mattress… “What’s the matter, hm?… Baby's not feeling too well?…”

You felt his hand caress the dip in your waist now as you laid down, but it only made you tense up, feeling worse for burdening him.

“N-no, Wonie… I just hate crying like this… especially in front of you…,” you managed to say, trying to give him a hint that you wanted to be alone for a few moments, but he persisted anyways.

“You never have to hide your emotions from me, love…” Jungwon encouraged, briefly breathing against your cheek before kissing the skin there, “It’s important that I see these parts of you, too, y’know?…”

You had been dating Jungwon for a little less than a year now, and one relationship goal that has always been the same for him was prioritizing your comfort.

He wanted you to be okay with sharing all types of intimacy… not just the parts that involved sex.

Naturally though, your boyfriend was never really an emotional person, and yet he strived to become better in that aspect because of you… because he knew there’d be a time where you needed that emotional comfort from him more than anything—

“Please, ____,” Jungwon’s voice sounded from behind you, “just tell me what’s wrong, baby…”

You sighed at his pleading before answering, not meeting his eyes only for him to scan your face anyways, admiring how lovely your teary eyes looked in this moment.

“I don’t know, Wonie… I guess I’ve just… I haven’t been feeling like myself, lately…”

“Ahh… so you’re telling me my pretty girl has got herself all worked up over insecurities again?”

“Well- it’s not just that… s-someone said that I’ve changed for the worse…”

It was earlier while you were hanging out with your friends…

One of the girls there, who you remembered as your former smoking buddy, had some pretty nasty things to say about you once she found out you had been trying to quit using.

“Yeah, you might’ve quit the pen, but all those lingering nerves are making you eat yourself to death, now… just look at your legs… they’ve gotten so big since the last time we spoke…”

Sighing at the memory, you sat up on the bed now, looking back at Jungwon’s stoic expression that spoke a thousand words for itself as he went on to ask:

“Are you seriously gonna let those empty words get you upset like this?…”

His hand was on your thigh, distracting you from answering at first until you decided to simply shake your head at his question, feeling the tears erupt within you all over again.

“I’m sorry, Jungwon,” you croaked with a squeaky voice, feeling yourself hiccup a bit from sniffling so hard, “I’m so sorry for being this way…”

For being your dysfunctional, basket-case of a girlfriend, you wanted to add, but the words got caught in the anxious web of your own mind, a spider feeling as though it’d just crawled down your throat as you continued bullying yourself in your head.

Jungwon had never seen you so sad before, and the way you just leaned into him while sobbing into the crook of his neck made his heart sink and swell at the same time.

The moisture from your face peppered his shoulders as he gently caressed your back, cooing within the sullen air.

“Don’t apologize when you did nothing wrong, ____,” he demanded with a whisper, pulling away from the hug to look in your face, “you understand me?”

You nodded again, making him smile softly as he kissed away the tears trailing your left cheek, his free, sweater-gloved hand wiping the other side.

“I just wanna feel better, already… regardless of what other people think of me,” you say as the end of his sleeve kept patting at your tears.

“And you will,” Jungwon went on, tilting his head at you with a thumb running over your lower lip. “Fuck those people and their opinions, ____…” he said, kissing you on the corner of your lips but only going in for more once you hummed in approval.

But of course, the tears came back, and you’re not sure why, but they wouldn’t stop.

“It’s okay, angel… let it all out,” Jungwon whispered against your lips, but you turned your head, letting your back find the mattress and covering your face.

“I … I can’t, Wonie… I hate feeling like such a crybaby over the smallest of things,” you sniffled, vision blurring with the amount of tears spilling over the edge of your lash bed now.

“Move your hands, love… I don’t like it when you hide your face from me…”

You look so gorgeous when you cry, your boyfriend wanted to add, but decided not to let his dirty thoughts thrive in this moment…

He opted to lay down beside you instead, joining your flat posture on the mattress before trailing a hand from the top of your knee and up to the point where the skirt you wore was hiked up over your hips now.

And yes, you weakly tried to swat his hands away, but he persisted, pulling your skirt back over your curves before hooking his first finger at the hem of your black, lace panties.

“You can always cry over my cock instead,” he whispered in a low voice now, his offer drawing you back to the present and out of your thoughts as the feeling of his hand inching closer to your core made your thighs tense up.

“W-Wonie~” your breath hitched, his fingers feeling cold against your warm skin as you failed to meet his lustful gaze.

“No no no, look at me… tell me how you want me to help you feel better, yea?”

With the last bit of willpower you had, you let your puffy eyes flicker up to meet his face, shuddering as you felt your panties slip lower and lower from their original position.

“I don’t really know what to say, Jungwon,” your voice came out below a whisper, your anxious thighs squeezing together as if it’d help hide the expanse of flesh from his eyes.

But his eyes weren’t looking there, anyways, being more concerned with the expression on your face than anything.

“Want me to help fuck all those tears away, kitty?... Is that what my pretty baby needs?”

And just like that, you felt it… the fiery rush in your stomach letting you know that it was only a matter of time before he had you bouncing on top of him, begging for more…

But as much as your body wanted to say yes, your mind was still making you feel insecure, especially as your panties were completely gone at this point, your hesitant body still trying to ease into his touch as he sat you in his lap.

Jungwon let his hands caress over the bow you tied around your thighs as your weight sunk into the straddle… your beautiful, soft, and perfect thighs…

Your hands found his shoulders for leverage, right as he kissed the center of your lips, humming at the way you clung to him now.

Your nose was still a bit stuffy from crying so much, so the kiss ended up being a lot sloppier than usual which only helped to turn you on even more.

“Such a good girl,” Jungwon muttered breathlessly as you suddenly broke from the contact, watching as you got to work on freeing his cock from the confines of his pants.

Climbing back over him, you simply hovered over his length, kissing him one more time on the lips before sliding him into you, tensing up a bit at the sensation.

“Mmm,” you hummed, feeling his hands push your thighs down just to help speed things up a bit.

And it didn’t take long for you to start moving once he was fully inside you, those pretty feline eyes of his becoming heavy at the relief his cock found in your pussy.

Letting his back fall against the bed, Jungwon kept his hands at your waist as you continued bouncing on his cock, a red hue blushing to your cheeks now as he started playing with your boobs.

“You’re taking me so well today, baby,” your boyfriend whispered in a low voice while squeezing the flesh of your tits in his hand, “always look so pretty while bouncing on my cock…”

You whimpered slightly at the painful feeling coupled with his dirty words, clenching around his member as the pace of your hips grew faster with your need.

“W-wonie~” you began to say, holding onto his wrists as his hands stayed cupped around your breasts.

“What is it, baby?” He asked in an almost cloyingly sweet tone, taking one of his free hands and pinching your cheek to make you blush even more.

“W-want you to fuck me, Wonie… p-please,” you whine in between feeling his thumb find the inside of your mouth, playing with your tongue as you finally meet his eyes again.

“You gotta be more specific, kitty,” he says, catching on to the way you visibly sulk at his words, “how does my pretty girl want to be fucked?”

As frustrated as you were starting to feel with his teasing, you couldn’t help but keep bouncing in his lap, practically drooling over the way his tip felt sliding against all the best parts inside you.

“Need you to be rough with me, Wonie,” you manage to say breathlessly, eyes tearing up now at the rollercoaster of emotions, “need you so bad—”

“Shhh… I’ve got you, baby,” Jungwon cooed, moving his thumb from your mouth and swiping the moisture from your eyes, “gonna help you feel so much better…”

You felt his touch guide you against his stomach now, your face resting in the crook of his shoulder as he held you against him with his strength, thrusting himself inside you.

And you almost couldn’t believe that he was starting off so fast, gripping a handful of your hair as tiny grunts fell from his lips, your eyes pricking with moisture as he kept pounding into you.

“God, p-please… go harder,” you whined out weakly, only to moan as his grip on your hair tightened, a string of curses falling from his mouth as his hips snapped into you even faster.

“Let me see those pretty tears of yours again, baby… let me know how good I’m making you feel…”

The sound of skin against skin would be impossible for anyone outside to ignore at this point, especially with the way you kept whining for him...

“Feels so good, Wonie,” you cried out, feeling the band in your stomach tighten as your climax treaded closer and closer to spilling over the edge, “need you to make me cum so badly…”

“Already?” Your boyfriend asked with a slight chuckle to his tone, even though he knew he wasn’t gonna last very much longer himself, “my pretty girl is always so needy for my cock, isn’t she?”

“Y-yes, yes,” your voice came out in erotic moans as your pussy throbbed with a burning need.

Only a few more seconds had passed before you were squirming on top of him, his hands having to hold you down given how much your body trembled.

“Nghh,” Jungwon’s voice followed right after, just as the feeling of his release coating your walls became obvious to you, a string of mumbled praise slipping from his mouth.

And all you could do was whimper at your boyfriend’s words, both of your hips riding out their highs as his lips found your face, kissing away the tears there as you melted into his touch.

Eventually, he let his dick slip out of the comfort of your warm hole, caressing your back as you returned a kiss to his lips, missing the closeness already…

“Feel any better?” Jungwon asked, a faint smile creeping upon his delicate features as you adored the sight of him in your own heart.

“Thanks to you, yes,” is the last thing you remembered saying in that moment, your tingly legs still straddling his lap as fell back into his embrace, grateful to have a boyfriend as perfect as him…

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ Thanks to everyone who read this quick little fic! If you're interested, feel free to check out my enhypen bookshelf for more works like this !!

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ TAGS: @squoxle @nikisvanillaccola @wonbinisbabygurl @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33 @addictedtohobi @ot7sevenlvr @sussyjake

[chososcamgirl]

SHIRTS! - megumi usually goes for a casual button when playing on stage but ideally shows up in practice/when he’s not playing with an old oversized dad tee. when he gets really excited about playing he’ll be a bit scandalous and wear a wife beater to show off his arms and trust this man is RIPPED like im talking muscle nation.

BOTTOMS! - we all know megumi isn’t! what who said that yall… megumi strictly only wears denim for some reason (totally doesn’t have to do with the fact that toge pantsed him on stage one time when he was wearing basketball shorts (don’t ask me why he was wearing basketball shorts yall i don’t control this man!!)) but he usually leans towards vintage jeans and buys them in flea markets/thrift shop/depop. this man has a keen eye for the good shit. you do NOT want to see his ass in goodwill. i know a thrifty bitch hate to seem him coming…

OUTERWEAR! - this man treasures his jackets like it’s a newborn baby fresh from the vagina. he is a carhartt FEIN and has like 5 variations of the same jacket in his wardrobe. talk about overconsumption… he’s also a whore for a good leather jacket… motorcycle megumi au when… heh..

MUST HAVES! - you will not see megumi leave the house without his holy trinity. his beautiful baby electric guitar of course; also named as bessie (do u guys get it? no? ok.) a pen specifically MUJI (yes shamelessly promoting them muji sponser this post pls) for writing any beat/lyric/sound that comes to his pretty little head. and lastly his MF DOOM ring cause he wouldn’t be a real musician without some affiliating to doom let’s be real.

ACCESSORIES! - this man is a sucker for a good belt. not only bc he buys his jeans in 3 sizes from his normal size but because it makes the outfit together. if this man ever forgets to put a belt on just know he’s going to be in a pissy mood for the rest of the day. his go to besides belts is hats! specifically baseball ones. he doesn’t feel like styling his hair? no fear! his trusty acne studios cap is here! he also sometimes just shoves the cap on the inside of his pants as well just barely sticking out. yuji clocked him one time as to why he does it and his answer was simply ‘for the aesthetic’

masterlist

taglist: @shokosbunny @luvvmae @catobsessedlady @satoryaa @prozacprinc3ss @essjujutsu @therealsatorugojo @yeehawslap @gojodickbig @dawnisatotalqueen @j2upiters @nappingnai @lalalasillybilly3000 @totallytatum @3cst4syy @lysaray @saltypuffin1040 @aozui @noodles-icetea @makeshiftproject @kurtcobaingirlie @kokoiinuts @renbittt @dashingaurries @slvttycorpse @cuupidsss @mochroialainn @tenjikusstuff4 @oroborosttheiii @ichcocat @iiwaijime @drugzforyou @sugurubabe @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @tyigerz @yoyo-yui @megoomies @yizmiu @jasminasblog22 @yomamablazeit @marst4rz @guitarstringed-scars @qtnfer @kalulakunundrum @lovefrominaya @beepbopzlorp @iheartlindz @itsdragonius @meguemii @chilichopsticks @7kn0wn @starantulas @1l-ynn @bonitoflakez @rcveriees @solaqes @starrysho @sukunaspillow @evry1luvssm

*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

[queermania]

I don't want to start drama and I don't expect you to respond to this but I think you deserve to know what's being said about you. tumblr. com/transfagbenny/738678589192552448/and-id-appreciate-if-we-stopped-using-the-terms

i actually am going to address this because this person has been lying about what's been going on for months and they've apparently been harassing other people for months if not years, so. it's time to put an end to this.

before i start though i want to make it abundantly clear that if you take this as an opportunity to do anything other than block this person, then you are trash. do not send him messages. do not tag him in things. do not harass him in any way. leave him alone. if you need to block, do so and then move on. hate mail and harassment is disgusting behavior and i don't want to be surrounded by anybody who engages in it. and if you do it on my behalf, i think you are worthless and i want nothing to do with you.

so, this is what happened: back in february of 2023, an anon asked me if i had any opinions that would get me canceled with the dean girlies. i replied, "oh now we’re talking!! hmmmm let’s see. i don’t care about benny at all. deanbenny does nothing for me. deanbenny is dust. it is dust. drowley rights forever" and i did not tag it because i'm not an asshole. bear then sent me a message that at the time i thought was funny/cute because his url reflected that he was obviously a huge benny fan. we had a very cordial exchange. everything was good. we chatted a little bit about how neat it would've been if benny had been played by a black actor and how the racism problem with gordon would've been fixed if gordon had been played by a white actor. not all of our conversation is visible anymore (and i also don't think all of it was on this post anyway) because i've since blocked him so his replies no longer show up on my posts. the point is: everything was fine. it was a good tumblr exchange. he continued to follow me. i did not follow him then or at any point.

the problem is that he kept coming onto my posts and into my inbox to try to make things about benny. that is not okay. i had already said that benny was a character (and deanbenny a ship) that i was not interested in. to me, this is an obvious boundary i've established that he repeatedly crossed. it's not an egregious violation, obviously. more than anything it's annoying. what he should've done, if benny was that important to him, was unfollow me and move on. but he didn't and i indulged him for awhile but at a certain point i thought, "okay maybe if i stop indulging him, he'll take the hint." so i stopped responding. he did not take the hint. he got worse and he even started commenting on things that he couldn't make about benny, just to willfully misinterpret things i said and taking them completely out of context. unfortunately, i don't have receipts for any of this because at the time i didn't know it was going to become an actual problem (however I have since learned that this is an established pattern of behavior he engages in, so you can probably find examples on other people's blogs).

it got so annoying, though, that i very carefully broached the subject in a private server with people i trusted. without naming any names or using any incriminating language (i.e. not specifically referencing benny), i basically said that there was someone being annoying about a specific character on my posts and i wasn't sure what to do about it. immediately, a handful of people replied with some variation of "the benny stan? he's been doing that to me too." i do have receipts of this (and an entire server to back me up) but i hope you can all understand why i'm not going to provide those or name names (or ask anyone to get involved publicly). the point is, it became apparent that i wasn't the only one and this was a pattern of behavior. i also learned during that conversation that bear has a history of harassing people and calling someone racist or a transphobe if they block him.

at that point, i decided not to rock the boat. i would just continue to ignore him and maybe he would get bored and move on. well that obviously didn't happen. he kept doing it and as a fun added bonus, he started to make vague posts about me. the thing is i don't actually care if he vagueblogs about me. it's his blog. he can do whatever he wants. it's none of my business. i mean i personally think he should've just unfollowed but, again, his blog, his choice. it is annoying that every single time he would do it, someone would send me a link or a screenshot of him doing it, but that's not really his fault. so, again, i just ignored it.

this is where we get to the incident in question. after a private discussion among a small group of friends, i posted this obviously joke poll at the insistence of @letterstothedevil, a tumblr user who has given me permission to include her in this.

the original message about the poll:

the permission:

now EYE think it's abundantly clear that the poll was a joke amongst friends, but maybe it wasn't, and i'm not going to fault anyone for not magically knowing that. i am, however, totally willing to fault someone for being a gigantic asshole. bear commented on the post and i, admittedly, gave a somewhat dismissive response because at that point i was so tired of him being willfully obtuse and twisting every little thing i said that i just didn't want to bother. he then went and made a series of not-at-all-vague posts calling me racist and claiming that i simply do not care about the racism in the show and it's obvious because i've never ever discussed it on my blog (which is a hilarious lie given that i'd specifically discussed it on my blog with him). at that point, there was no reason not to block him. he was already doing the thing that i didn't want to deal with. so i did. and i thought that would be the end of it.

again, i was wrong.

i then started to get anon messages daily about benny and deanbenny and how i'm racist for not liking benny, etc. this was harassment that EYE was on the receiving end of. nobody else was a victim of the messages i was being sent. they were sent to me and it is not my job to make sure other people are protected from the harassment that i am experiencing. i'm pointing this out for two reasons: 1. because i did try to protect bear from it for awhile anyway. i knew that people would assume it was him and at the time i was still giving him the benefit of the doubt, if for no other reason than the fact that i didn't think he could send me messages since i blocked him. and 2. because when i did finally start to respond to some of the messages, bear acted like he was somehow the victim in all of this (and continues to act that way to this day).

i don't know if bear had (or currently has) anything to do with any of the messages i get (which, thankfully, have slowed considerably). what i do know is that at no point during any of this happening did he stop looking at my blog and vagueblogging about me.

when i finally did answer a few of the messages, bear had a bit of a meltdown about it. i know this because he used a separate account that i hadn't know existed to message me and because he talked to one of my friends about it. (i'm not going to name that person but if they want to get involved publicly of their own accord, that's up to them lol). i'm also not going to share screenshots of what bear said to me because he explicitly asked me not to (it's also the reason i'm not sharing screenshots of the numerous receipts i have of the things he's said and lied about on his blog but, unless he's deleted any of them, you can go and find the posts yourselves.) what i am going to share is that in the message he sent to me, he flat out lied about his behavior. he told me he hadn't been vague-blogging about me, that he would never ever do that about anyone, and that he would certainly never harass someone (all things that i have receipts of him doing).

it took me awhile to respond to this message because i was still trying to be gracious about the whole situation. i recognize that he is much younger than i am and i think it's important for me, as a full blown adult, to take that into account. i had a private discussion with a few trusted friends about how to handle this because it was important to me to not let him off the hook for his behavior and for lying just because he's young. this is what i ended up saying:

his response was to double-down on his lies (while, hilariously, vague-blogging about me and the whole thing) and then go into victim mode about something so completely unrelated and far-fetched that i decided i simply wanted nothing to do with him ever. (this is when he asked me not to share screenshots, so i won't, but this is me saying that i have ALL of the receipts, bear, so if you continue to lie, you will not like what happens.) i blocked his alternate account and tried to ignore him.

the harassment continued. again, i have no idea if he was actually part of it. the vagueblogging continued. he started to do it to other people he associated with me. many of them blocked him because of his behavior. i continued to answer some of the hate i received, continued to ignore and/or block most of it. it got so bad that i was sent seizure bait on more than one occasion, one time bad enough that i actually ended up going to the ER. there are receipts of all of this, too. you can see on my blog the messages i've been sent. i think at one point i even shared a snapshot of what my inbox looked like. i've shared privately with friends (who can confirm if they want to, but no pressure) screenshots of the kinds of messages i get that i don't respond to. the point is, that for a period of months, i was relentlessly harassed. and at no point during this time did i say anything to or about bear (or anyone else). the most i've done is respond to messages that have been sent to me. i've largely sat quietly while this thing happened to me and bear continued to make posts about me and act like he is somehow a victim in this. he's assumed things about me and my identity. he's violated boundaries i've set. he will not let this go. and i'm not the only one he's doing it to.

i'm so fucking tired of it. leave me alone. leave my blog alone. leave my friends alone. leave any and all of the people who have blocked you for your own inappropriate and obnoxious behavior alone. that's it. that's the end. none of this would be happening if you would just respect other people's boundaries. i don't want you on my blog. i do not want to interact with you. i don't want anything to do with you. that's it. the end.

[ryuzakemo128]

Grim Reaper - Supernatural AU

Pairing: Poly! Task Force 141 x you/ female reader

Content Warning: Fantasy Violence, Nogitsune, betrayal. If there is something triggering in this, I have not tagged. I suggest you read at your own discretion.

Words: 1024

Masterlist - Prequel - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six

Credit for Dividers: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Summary: You are known for taking on a human form. Taking joy in tormenting, tricking, and possessing humans.

You are a Nogitsune. The translation for this is wild fox.

Alternate names for you are Yako, Yakan.

Yakan is more archaic. Its origin lie elsewhere. Predominately in a different animal.

Many local variations of your name exist. Only known to those in those areas.

Your habitat is located amongst the fields, forests, and wild areas.

Your diet? Omnivorous. You particularly like wax, oil, lacquer, women’s life force and blood. You are quite happy with your appetite. Only going out of your way to eat when it suits you and your own hunger.

Often referred to as Yako. A type of kitsune. A breed of magical kitsune to be more specific. You wander the East Asian territories amongst your kin.

You do not have a divine soul. Not only that, but you are not a messenger of the gods. You do not serve the Inari.

You are known for taking on a human form. Taking joy in tormenting, tricking, and possessing humans.

A keen sense of danger. Strong disliking for bright light. Hiding from the sun during the day. Scared of swords and knives. You do not do well with bladed objects. An intense fear of dogs. As soon as you smell one. You are already gone. Hiding.

Able to recognise human activity even though you hide from humans. Whenever you get the chance to. You are nowhere to be found. Which you generally enjoy. Sneaking around to steal some of your favourite foods like; wax, candles, lamp oil, lacquer, alcohol, and fried tofu. A feast for you. A delicious feast no other could compare to.

Some kitsune are viewed as holy creatures, magical foxes serving as messengers to the gods. You are not one of them. You are a low-ranking member. Furthermore, you do not act as a messenger. You do not serve the Inari. Despite all of this. You seem relatively comfortable with your low ranking. You don’t aspire to increase your standing.

In order to change your shape, your form, you requite a bone from a horse or a cow. It requires all of your concentration, your magical focus of some form or kind.

This went on for a while. Long enough for a task force 141 to find you all the way out in the English countryside. Resting on dry hay inside an abandoned stable. Clutching onto a worn-out pink teddy bear. A giant one. Big enough to cover your entire body. Engulfing it in a warm beacon of safety.

You knew this day would come eventually. People hated monsters. Monsters would always be stomped out by those who are deemed better on a biased moral compass. You wished you are back at home with your older siblings. Yet you were all the way out here. No way back. Lost and alone.

What you deserve and what you get are two separate things.

You deserved to be home. Instead, you were tricked into coming all the way out here by a person you called 'friend'. A friend who was a liar. A snake. A false promise. A deception. A deceiver. Unworthy of being your friend.

You’ve been running from them for months. You were too tired to put up much of a fight. If any at all. You didn’t hear the stable doors creak open or the footsteps of crunching gravel. “Are you here to kill me?” You asked. “To slay the mighty beast in order to receive a medal and pat on your back? Spare me the hypocrisy that is your kind. Werewolves like you don’t know anything beyond your own kind. Well done. You got your prize. You won the fight. You get something while the beast is slain. How noble of you.”

Noble? Pathetic. Bowing down to the needs of the whims and wants of others. Look at you. Tamed and bound by an entity who would discard you the moment they found something better. I know these things better than you might think.

No wonder you smell. The dog smell. Putrid. Horrid. Disgusting. The dog crate smelled of hundreds of dogs. The putrid smelling seeping into your clothes. The smell stung your eyes to a new level you hadn’t experienced before. Stench overwhelming as you were muzzled to keep you from biting them.

Scared. They’re scared like little pups. Whinging. Whining. Wanting more than what they deserve to get. I don’t care about what they want. I don’t care. I don’t fucking care about anything they could possibly want from me. Their whims and desires can go fucking drown in a river for all I care.

Along the road to the military base full of people marching around in military fatigues. You must have passed out on the way there. Snoring like a bear. A giant bear. A big bear. A big, big bear. They tried prying it from you.

You gave them growls. Snapping at their fingers. Gaz got bit a few times. Not hard enough to hurt. Hard enough to ward him away from you.

Your eyes held a luminous glow to them. Even if they were only open for a few seconds before falling back asleep. Stretching a bit before breathing a steadily.

Lowering the air conditioning between 12 degrees to 17 degrees depending on your mood at the time. Keeping the room you were kept inside. Cold enough for you to keep you comfortable. Not them.

Laswell looking in the crate with flashlight as the dog crate presented to her like an offering to a god who knew little of your kind. The urge to strike. To bite her burned inside your soul.

Those fucking naïve bitches. Dangling a snack in front me? Tempting me to eat her, are we? Idiots. Morons. Just a bite. A nibble is all it takes to get to the sweet red nectar beneath her flesh. To gorge myself on her blood like it was ordained by my nature.

Grim.

Grim.

Grim Reaper.

A new name.

For a new place.

Mine.

All of it.

MINE.

Once they ask for my name.

It is all they shall get from me.

A small kindness for their pathetic interference.

[pluraldeepdive]

Let's Fact Check: Was MPD renamed to DID for Harmful Reasons?

(Disclaimer: This post contains descriptions of ableism and disbelief in plurality. I do not condone any hatred towards any person mentioned on this post. If you see anyone attacking them, please report them for harassment! This post was made to spread awareness, not negativity.)

In this post, we will be investigating the claim that multiple personality disorder (MPD) was renamed to dissociative identity disorder (DID) for harmful reasons.

Origins of the claim

This claim most likely originated from a (now privatized) wordpress blog post made in 2019.

Click here for an archive of the blog post.

In this post, the author is discussing a blog post they found that's written by Allen J. Frances, the chairman of an outdated edition of the DSM. After reading his blog post, they came to the conclusion that Frances renamed MPD to DID out of malicious intent towards people with MPD because his blog post states that he does not believe in MPD.

This wordpress post was later linked on Twitter, where many users began repeating the claim. As it spread across Twitter and other social media platforms, the claim has adopted several variations. Some people claim that Frances attempted to get rid of MPD entirely, some claim that he renamed it as a scheme to erase all plurality, and some claim that “DID” is an ableist or offensive diagnosis because of all of this. It seems like most of the people spreading these claims do not have DID themselves, however.

Click here for a link to an imgur folder showing examples of this claim in online plural spaces.

The post by Frances

Now, let's look at the blog post that was cited as proof that MPD was renamed to DID for harmful reasons.

Click here to read his post (TW for fakeclaiming and ableism).

This post was written in 2014. In it, Frances is expressing how he doesn’t believe in what he calls MPD. He personally adheres to the debunked skeptical models which suggest DID is created through therapeutic suggestion or is a “fad”. He talks about how he wished he could remove MPD from the DSM-IV, but couldn’t do so. The next best thing, to him, was to allow controversial statements to be injected into the manual. These statements were removed in the current edition of the DSM.

Frances does not mention anything about the diagnosis's name change.

Addressing bias & concerning behavior

First of all, it’s important to look into the author of the wordpress blog to understand how reliable their word is. The author is a median system who I found out, from the blog, is @/multi_sapphire on Twitter. She also runs the blog @/acting-nt on Tumblr, which is a fact known by many in the online community.

At the time of making her blog post, she did not identify as having DID. She is openly anti-psychiatry, as well. While I don't want to make this a big focus, this system also has a history in the plural community of being very hateful towards the DID label. I have had to make a PSA about them before for posting hatred in the DID tags (source). They are the coiner of the term "traumascum" among other things (source). Many, many PSAs have been made about her by other systems about various concerning behavior (source).

Frances’ post can be easily triggering to anyone with DID, OSDD, or plurality. It’s understandable how a system, who was already unfavorable towards psychiatry, came to think that all of the changes made to DID in the DSM-IV were done out of malicious intent. Let's investigate that next.

Addressing how the DSM is made & who coins names

For anyone who doesn't know, "DSM" stands for the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. It is a handbook used by clinicians to diagnose mental disorders.

The DSM-IV is an outdated edition that is no longer in use. It was published in 1994 and was replaced by the DSM-5 in 2013. While Frances was the chairman of the DSM-IV, he was kicked off the taskforce and has nothing to do with the current DSM. Most of the changes he made were completely reversed in the current manual.

The DSM taskforce is run by many people. Diagnoses are divided across different work groups who receive input and data from researchers that specifically research and work with people with those disorders. Suggestions are proposed from the researchers to the work groups, who then analyze this, conduct field trials, and propose changes that should be made to the DSM (source).

While Frances oversaw the taskforce, he is not listed as a member of any work group or researcher in the DSM-IV. This means he did not come up with any of the proposed changes to the DSM-IV.

Why MPD was renamed to DID

All of the dissociative disorders were renamed at the same time! All of them, except for DPDR, were changed to have the word “dissociation” in them. Researchers explain that they proposed this change in order to make the dissociative nature of these disorders more understandable.

Psychogenic amnesia was renamed to dissociative amnesia.

Psychogenic fugue was renamed to dissociative fugue.

Multiple personality disorder was renamed to dissociative identity disorder.

Atypical dissociative disorder was renamed to dissociative disorder not otherwise specified.

When it comes to DID in particular, there are two main reasons for the shift from multiple personalities to dissociative identities. Hersen et al. states the one of these reasons is that the term 'personality' defines "the characteristic pattern of thoughts, feelings, moods, and behaviors" of the whole brain (source). This is what makes alters identities rather than personalities. According to this definition of personality, having multiple personalities would mean having multiple brains! The second reason is that the older term emphasized the alters over the dissociation (same source).

In my opinion, refocusing on the dissociation rather than the alters allows people with DID to have the full spectrum of their symptoms recognized, and helps distance plurality from disorders. Many plural systems don't view their systems as the problem. Many systems don't have DID, either. The shift in this diagnostic language has made it much easier for that distinction to be made! It's very unfortunate that false claims have been made about this, casting more stigma onto both DID and non-DID systems.

Summary

To summarize everything:

The claim that MPD was renamed to DID for harmful reasons most likely originated from a 2019 blog post.

The author of the blog post was reasonably concerned about a figure of authority being ableist. However, their own biases against the DID label likely influenced their claim that the DID label was created by said figure of authority.

In actuality, that guy did not come up with the name "DID." Researchers are the ones who did.

MPD was renamed to DID in order to make it more understandable and put an emphasis on dissociation.

All dissociative disorders were renamed along with DID to include the word "dissociation" in them.

[olderthannetfic]

This is a rare, wholesome moment regarding RPF, but a streamer I watch asked fans who write RPF, regardless of what ship they write, not to kill his dog in the fics. His last dog had a brain tumor and had to be put down at five years old, so he doesn't want any fic about his new dog dying.

Several fics have changed their tags to have some variation of "[dog name] is immortal" or "[dog name] does not die". Even in stories where the dude himself dies. We have all decided, collectively, to honor the request. And I think that's very wholesome of us. I was surprised.

I was more surprised by one person who hates him who writes RPF adhering to that rule, though. Someone suggested she kill the dog to spite him and she was furious. "THE DOG DID NOTHING WRONG WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU" was not a reaction I was expecting from a hatefic writer. But I find that oddly charming.

Fandom: bad at people, good at dogs.

--

I coulda told you. :)

[annakenziesworld]

TSAMS/TSBS AU infodump questionnaire!

Decided to make just a silly bunch of questions for people to answer to let out information about their AU's! Also because I love hearing about AU's. So because of that I wanna note how to answer these. Along with light rules about this post. Questions may be added to this later on!

Please if you use this exact list reblog this post with your answers! I wanna hear about your AU's

Either copy the list and put your responses under the questions OR just number your answers so its easy to tell what answer its to!

Basically all AU's that follow tumblr TOS are aloud, no reblogging anyone's au's with hate, this means all.

List aloud to be taken and used for other fandoms just please credit who made the original list.

If you don't know how to answer just say you don't know, or that its not relevant for the AU, not all questions are required!

If your AU could have triggering content put a warning of the content it'll hold and tag properly

Remember you can give as much detail as you want, or as little as you want

Now that's out of the way all questions can be found below! There is a total of 27 questions on the list

1 - What's the name of your AU if there is one? If no official name what would you call it?

2 - What is the most prominent differing factor between your AU and the original source Material?

3 - What is your favorite character in the source material and who's your favorite character within your AU?

4 - Are any of the characters in a relationship (QPR, Romantic, Emotional, ect.)? If so what are the most defined ones you've built so far, and within the universe how did their bond come along?

5 - What 'fanfic tropes/fanfic tags' does your AU use?

6 - Do any characters within your AU have any disabilities (mental or physical)?

7 - Do any characters have familial bond amongst eachother? If so how strong are their bonds, and how did they come about?

8 - What are the ages of the characters in your au? Or are the ageless/immortal?

9 - what's the general world like? Is it futuristic, modern, apocalyptic, post-apocalyptic, does it take place mainly in a coffee shop or something of the sort?

10 - are you working on any fanworks (fanfic, askblogs, rp blogs, animation, comics, ect.) about this au? If so link them!

11 - What is the worst thing(s) that happened to a character(s)? Did they have a tough life, a loss, or anything of the sort? If so what? How did it affect them?

12 - what's the best thing(s) that happened to a character(s)? How did it affect them?

13 - Did you take any unique design choices for any of the characters? If so describe or show them off!

14 - What character(s) in the AU have been worked on and built up the most and what are they like?

15 - What is your least favorite character in the source material, and what's your least favorite character in your au?

16 - Is there any major personality changes you made to the characters?

17 - What is the most 'out of character' thing in your AU?

18 - How long have you been working on this AU?

19 - Is there any OC's or self-inserts? If so what are they like and how do they affect the story?

20 - What inspired this AU?

21 - Has your AU steered off of your original plan for it at all? If so do you like how its changed? If it stayed the same what's the base idea for it exactly?

22 - Do you have any variations of this specific AU? If you do how do they differ amongst eachother?

23 - Does this AU bring you comfort/was it made for comfort?

24 - Is this your only TSBS AU or do you have any other ones? If other ones is this one your favorite?

25 - What parts of the AU are you proudest of?

26 - Do you keep this AU mostly private to yourself? If so why?

27 - would you consider this AU to be dark, light, fluffy, or what would it fall under and why? No wrong answers!

[wing-ed-thing]

Foul Creature (Tobirama x Reader) Part V

Synopsis: You would say that you grew up together. From children, to teenagers, to young leaders, you did nothing but be who you were and Tobirama would forever name his love for you as the reason he hated the Uchiha.

Word Count: 3.2k

Tags/Warnings: @norasincubi​ Warning for dark themes ahead, including forced marriage, violence, and assault. Fem!Uchiha!Reader. Please consult AO3 for more specific warnings.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X Part XI

Notes: It’s miraculously here.

“What’s going on here, Madara?”

He sat at your low chabudai, arms crossed as he refused to meet your eye. An incomplete variation of his armor adorned his shoulders, the thick leather ties of his pauldrons crossing over his broad chest and tied under his arms. Even in your home, Madara couldn’t quite leave the battlefield. Tajima sat next to him, legs crossed and face unreadable. 

“Please sit.” Your mother ushered you to an open cushion. You settled down next to your father directly across from Madara. Your longtime friend held his closed-off posture, eyes closed as if he were above the interaction.

“We have been in negotiations with Tajima and Madara—” Madara’s eyes opened lazily at the mention of his name. Then, your heart dropped. —“And we believe that Madara will be a most suitable husband for you.”

You couldn’t help the wideness of your eyes as you stared into his dark pupils in horror. The room had gone still. And for a few moments, it was just you and Madara. Your parents' voices grew muffled as you searched for answers in Madara’s unyielding gaze. How long had he known about this? Tajima mirrored Madara’s crossed arms with a nod. 

“Yes, your compatibility is undeniable. We are confident that the two of you will bear the strongest of Uchiha children.”

The rest of the conversation passed you by.

You weren’t ready to marry.

***

The door shut behind you, leaving you and Madara outside on the engawa. Your fingers lingered on the closed entrance behind you. Madara stood next to you, silently watching you out of his peripheral. Your heart fluttered as you caught bits and pieces of the finalized negotiation inside. 

The arrangements in the past were different from this. You had never been without a say, and all of the other suitors had been bumbling at best. But now that you considered it all you supposed that Madara was a high-value bachelor few families would pass up.

“We are honored that the pride of the Uchiha has expressed such interest in our girl,” your mother’s muffled voice said through the door. “Madara has grown into quite a warrior. You must be so proud, Tajima.”

Fireflies lit up the garden. 

Outside and eavesdropping, it felt like you and Madara were kids again. You remembered when you stood outside the meeting hall together, you on his shoulders as you tried to listen to what the adults were saying. You had been friends for so long. The decision to ask your parents for your hand in marriage shook up all the thoughts in your head like a mighty gale. You didn’t want to know what the adults were saying now.

You let out a shaky breath; the thought of making even the slightest eye contact with Madara made you sick. It took effort to muster up the will, but you found the strength to tear yourself away. As you paced toward the forest, you slipped on your shoes, fetching your foraging basket. Madara followed through the garden after you.

“Stop!” he commanded, but you ignored him and pressed on. He called your name. “Stop! Come back here!” You felt his hand grip your sleeve. You reacted viscerally, pivoting instantly to tear yourself away from his grip. 

He stopped in his tracks. Madara had seen many horrific things in his life. He had seen all kinds of violence possible simply by fighting on behalf of the Uchiha. Your outburst hadn’t halted him, nor had your blatant defiance of his booming orders. But the tears that welled in your eyes…

“You do not lay your hand on me, Madara!” The rawness of your voice grated on your throat. An invisible spray of spit flew from your lips. The first stream of tears had already begun to run down your face—only two, one from each eye. 

He watched you. He watched your face in confusion, not understanding why your it had begun to crease and contort as pathetically as it did.

“I thought you would be pleased,” he said, almost in an accusation. Madara turned, running his fingers over the lower part of his face with jerky movements. “I do not understand.” He glanced at your house and the shadows of your parents through the paper door. His hands gestured curtly through barely restrained anger. Madara had always been severe in everything he did. “I do not understand. I thought you would be pleased.” 

You stood frozen and wide-eyed. You looked past him, over his shoulder at nothing. The tears reached the end of your face, hanging off your jaw. 

“That is why you have been talking to my father, I suppose?” Your voice was as small as you felt. You wiped the wetness from your face with the back of your hand. “For how long?” 

“I do not understand—”

“How long, Madara?” you snapped. Your voice echoed throughout the trees. A few birds fluttered away, their wings beating as the branches shook. 

The silence hung in the air, palpable. Madara observed you as silently and stoically as he usually did. His hands fell to his sides.

“I approached him a sennight ago while you were out foraging.” You didn’t look at him, pivoting on your heel away from him as you hid your face in your hands. He followed you unconsciously, circling around you. “I know that is where you would be. You always labor yourself.” 

You could see out of the corner of your eye how desperately Madara wanted you to look at him. But you knew if you faced him head-on, you would be at a loss for words. It was all too much. It had all been too sudden.

“I do not understand.” His voice cracked. Madara took a step closer. “You will never want for anything! I am the strongest warrior in our village. Izuna is the second strongest. You will never have to worry about fighting.” He took another step as you sunk in on yourself. “All I wish is to provide you with a peaceful life and home. You will never have to labor the way you have ever again!” 

You mustered up the courage to stare at his chin and nothing more. The more you willed yourself not to cry, the deeper the burning sensation behind your eyes became. By the time you lifted your head, he was towering above you. Hulking and wide as he was, even without his full armor, Madara cast a colossal shadow over you. His hands hovered around your shoulders as if he deliberated on touching you.

“What about… what about the apothecary?” you croaked, all of the Uchiha customs ingrained into your head as a child flashing across your mind. “What will happen to the apothecary when you own my life?” His hands settled firmly on your shoulders, giving you a shake.

“I am certain Makihara will appreciate your donation of herbs every now and then.” Tears pooled up in your eyes, spilling over again. The corners of Madara’s lips twitched upward, causing a strain in his cheeks. “I will provide you with a garden where you can grow all the herbs you have ever dreamed of! You will have a new purpose.”

“What?” You shook your head, dazed by Madara’s raving illustration of your future together. “Makihara… He has grown so old. Who will make the medicine if I do not?” You gripped Madara’s wrists, but he wouldn’t pull off of you.

“The village has an apothecary—” Madara grabbed onto the fabric of your sleeves. You tried to pull away.

—“I have been the village apothecary for—”

—“It is not safe for you there! The last raid on the village—” 

Your foraging basket fell to the ground. 

The crazed look in his eye struck fear into your heart. You flailed, pushing him hard as you stumbled back. You readjusted the loose sleeve that had fallen off your shoulder. The two of you stood at odds, just a few steps on separation in between. You huffed, catching your breath from the panic that coursed through you as Madara observed you with predatory eyes. 

“Why did you arrange this, Madara?” you pleaded, holding the sides of your robes close and closed over your chest. “Why me? Out of all the girls in the village falling over themselves for your hand, why did you choose to take me? You know what will happen, so why?” And your teary eyes met Madara's for the first time that night. You hiccuped, voice shaky and uneven. “We were friends…?”

“How do you still not understand?” he roared, and as he stormed toward you, you were fearful. You didn’t have a moment to think about escaping before he had you again. Madara plucked your wrists up, holding them punishingly tight. 

“Madara! You are hurting me—”

“It has been you! It has always been you! I have loved you always! How can you not comprehend that I only wish to keep you safe? To give you the world at your feet!”

You flinched, crying as you braced yourself against his storming fury. 

“You frighten me, Madara!” you cried. “Please do not do this! It is not too late to take it back! Please take it back! You can say that your mind has been changed!” The right side breast of your robes had stained dark with wetness from your face.

Madara lowered himself until his eyes were level with yours. You quivered, still flinched in on yourself. He held your tense arms in his large hands. Madara spoke your name.

“Look at me.”

“No, please, Madara, do not—”

“Look at me!” 

His shouting and the tight grip he had on you made you yelp. You opened your eyes hesitantly, almost squinting as you stood with your feet barely on the ground. You were met with the red, swirling pattern of Madara’s sharingan. That had been enough. Whatever Madara hoped to read in the depths of your soul had been there. 

He threw you down. You landed on the grass below, patches of dirt staining your knees. 

“There is someone else,” he said curtly, expression unreadable. The red of his irises swirled back into black. Panic set in. You forgot how to breathe as you tried to scramble to your feet. 

“No! There is not!”

Madara stopped you as you reached your knees, once again lowering himself. His wrists rested at the sharp bend of his legs.

“Who is it? Who is it that keeps your heart from me?” If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought that he had spoken to you with softness. You must’ve looked dreadful as snot and tears ran down your face. He took a silk tie from his hair, letting his mass of black strands fall past his shoulders as he swept your ruffled hair from your messy face. You stammered as he tied your hair back. “Will you not be truthful with me?”

“It is no one, Madara.”

The absence of a response did nothing to quell your worries. Madara didn’t speak a word. He rose with his usual scowl. He left you on the ground, speaking over you.

“No matter,” he finally said. “I will kill him by my own hand. You will see. I promise. I will provide for you.”

He left. 

***

You shambled off into the forest not too long after. 

You didn’t know where else to go. 

You had gone to the grotto where you regularly met Tobirama. It wasn’t your regular meeting time, but a small part of you still hoped he would miraculously be there. Instead, you were met with emptiness and darkness. 

You dragged yourself out to the edge of the riverbank. The water washed past you as you sat. The coolness of the water quelled the heat beneath your skin. You ran a hand through the herbs that grew among the gravel. Tiny sprouts grew from where you last cut them. 

The wetness turned the bottom of your robes dark and heavy. The moisture traveled up to your hips as you sat, staring at the land on the other side of the river. You curled in on yourself, wondering if running was possible.

Perhaps this was what you were waiting for, something to jumpstart your ambition. You could live with Tobirama. He could accept you with the Senju, and no one would have to know where you were from. Perhaps the Senju were more open-minded. You had seen their women on the battlefield before. You could study medicine and continue your work as an apothecary. Tobirama had always encouraged you. 

No one needed to know. 

You laid back in the shallow water. The river lapped at the back of your ear, soaking your hair and the rest of your robes as you watched the stars. The night had turned dark. The chirp of nocturnal bugs echoed around you to the steady rhythm of the rushing water. 

***

You awoke the next morning with water flooding your nose. You gasped, startled and choking out water as you surveyed your surroundings. Your sinuses burned from the river water as you wiped the wetness from your face. The memories of the night before came back to you all at once. The sun rose to your right, casting a warm glow across your face as you looked again back across the river at Senju territory. 

You didn’t dare cross. 

Instead, you waded into the water to scrub yourself down in the river, the sensation of Madara’s touch lingering. 

*** You waited for Tobirama all day, thinking to yourself as you foraged a nice bundle of herbs between naps. You kept an eye on the bank across the river. Tobirama didn’t come until the evening. He looked a little worse for wear, tired. His already wild hair looked more tousled than it usually did. White bandages adorned his left arm. 

You nearly jumped on him when he made it across to you. You’re sure you hit an injury, a bruise, or two from the slight flinch you felt as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Even so, Tobirama let you wrap yourself around him, holding you close as you clung to him. 

“Things have been so horrible,” you sobbed lightly into his shoulder. He supported you, holding you close as you cried into him. Tobirama laid a soft kiss on your hair.

“Tell me everything.” 

But you couldn’t. You cried harder and he let you. Tobirama scooped up your weeping form, and carried you to the bank to sit. The two of you were out in the open, but your vulnerability was the last thing on your mind. He said nothing as he brushed light touches over your hands and held you until another night came. 

You stared at the folds in his robes in the darkness, running your hands up and down his forearm. You could feel how strong he was. Despite the short time you had been seeing each other, he had grown. 

You found yourself comparing him to Madara. You could picture Madara’s hulking form as clearly as the night in front of you. You knew this armor well, the curve of his weaponry, and the broadness of his shoulders. It all made you wonder how much time you would have if you asked Tobirama to elope with you instead. You ran your touch over his palm. The skin there was soft, unlike the calloused hand of Madara who trained day and night to slaughter Senju. You decided quickly that Tobirama did not stand a chance should you incur Madara’s wrath. 

“I—” It felt like you had never stopped crying. —“I do not think I am able to see you for a while.”

You felt Tobirama perk up in the dimness. He craned his head, shifting you gently in his arms to look at your face. You cast your gaze downward and he did not force you to meet his gaze. 

“What do you mean by this?” he asked, concern lacing his words. You remained silent. He waited patiently for you to respond. You leaned back into him, nuzzling the crook of his neck. 

“Things in my village are… turbulent. Because of the war.” 

You didn’t remember what Tobirama said. 

He didn’t fight you on the decision. Part of you had expected he’d propose that you come join him with the Senju and you were relieved that he hadn’t. Tobirama considered it, but decided that the raids on the Senju would likely be an even more dangerous place for you. 

You said something about finding him again. Tobirama didn’t remember what you said.

He comforted and kissed you, telling you between each one that he would be waiting and would give anything to keep you safe. The words rang hollow as the memory of Madara haunted your mind. Your back lowered gently to the ground as Tobirama continued to hover over you, showering your face with deep kisses and reassurance. 

You told yourself that you would find a way.

***

Tobirama woke the next morning to the rising sun. He picked himself off the rocky gravel, a few small pebbles sticking to his skin as he rose onto his elbow. He stretched his shoulders, hearing an audible crack. Tobirama looked down at your sleeping form, a hand already on your bicep to shake you awake. The two of you had never fallen asleep before.

He spoke your name, shaking you. Tobirama recoiled his hand for a moment to shield his eyes. He observed the placement of the sun in the sky, trying to calculate the time. But when he turned back to you, something caught his eye. 

Laying out on the stone was the end of a single ribbon. He hadn’t recalled seeing it the night before in the dimmness. A few nimble fingers slipped gingerly into your hair and as the ribbon snaked out, so too did the crimson red Uchiha clan crest. 

Tobirama recoiled from you like it were a snake, falling backward onto the river stone. 

The memories came back to him all at once. 

He had seen your face before. He had seen your eyes all those years ago in the clearing of the forest. The kill that got away.

His hand trembled to the holster on his leg, pulling out his grandfather’s prized, Uchiha-killing kunai. 

Your laugh echoed in his mind, the laugh like a fox. He rose to his feet, swiveling to check his surroundings as he approached your sleeping form. 

Yes, he remembered you now. He remembered his promise to carve out your sharingan. He remembered the years of shame he felt in letting you escape and now you were there. You were there, sleeping and vulnerable and as Tobirama held his kunai in his hand, he felt like a child all over again. 

But as he observed your sleeping form, another memory flashed across his mind. The memory of your stare. The fear in your eyes as you stared up at him with your blasted sharingan eyes. He remembered well how you braced yourself to be killed at his hand, splayed out like a pinned butterfly. 

His kunai clattered to the ground.

You bolted up at the noise and Tobirama immediately dropped to his knees to comfort you, kicking the kunai into the river in a moment of pure instinct. 

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: I think I’ve figured out how to wrap this series up in a few chapters. I’ve wanted to keep it short so hopefully we can see an ending soon. It’s a really slow write though! JEEZ! 

Also, I’ve been using “apothecary” to refer to the pharmacy and Reader’s job as an apothecary. The jury is out on whether that’s correct but we’re going to pretend it is! Sorry to any apothecary experts who are irked hahaha

Not to mention Makihara is 100% a last name because I completely forgot he was an Uchiha OOPS

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X Part XI

[snowed-leopard]

Behold! My “pride month project” that totally stalled out. 41 of the finest pride flags I have to offer, all with the Mann co logo and slogan laid over them. This took too long so I reealllly hope y’all enjoy it. Getting split into three posts!

Gender | Sexuality | Other | Some Xenognders | Robotkin

(as asks come in and I get additional requests more links to extra may be added) ((Other includes both rainbow flag variations and some flags like the bear flag and questioning flag. ))

QnA! "Hey, where's my flag :(?" Im sorry I missed you, I promise you're valid and I love you. IF YOU HAVE A SUGGESTION FOR A FLAG, please send me an ASK OR DM with the IDENTITY NAME AND FLAG ATTACHED. But please search my blog for the tagged identity to make sure you didn’t miss it. If you did and send an ask I promise I won’t be mad tho, I get it.

If you send me stupid hate for picking one variation of a flag over another or choosing to respect an identity you don’t I’m just gonna block you. Loser. Be civil or get out.

“Why’s the text weird” because I recreated it by hand in vector because I don’t know fonts, I’m really sorry, I did my darndest though. I'm just not great at vector yet.

“Why did this take so long” because I made high res versions of every flag, Including the ones with icons or symbols, that I found when starting this. And I’m slow. *shrug*

“Why is the text outlined in white on dark flags?” Readability!

“Why are the symbols behind the text?” Also readability! But! If there’s requests for versions with them in front I’d be happy to oblige.

[glystenangel]

In a Minute!

Dom!Sukuna x Bratty&Fem!Reader (Modern AU)

tags/warning: 18+ MDNI, not too spicy but alludes to it, sukuna in a suit, reader wears makeup and a dress, established relationship, one mention of spanking, pet names (variations of sweetheart), sukuna gets mad but in a hot way, cussing and a bit of dirty talk, d/s implied

summary: sukuna is trying to rush you, but you're not having it

~1k words>

super short and sweet!!

thanks for reading and enjoy<3

_________________

“Sweetness, you ready yet?”

You can hear Sukuna’s exasperated call from the front door as he shuffles on his leather dress shoes.

“In a minute.” You yell back as convincingly as possible, dabbing on some more blush and reaching for your lipstick.

Agitation taps through the string of footsteps coming towards you from the hallway, “No, sweetheart, we don’t have a minute.”

It’s a big work party, so Sukuna’s understandably annoyed. He has to make a good impression as the CEO, after all.

You can tell he’s irritated by the grit of his teeth punctuating his words and the sigh he lets out when he leans against the doorframe behind you.

The room is dim aside from the yellow lights curled around your vanity. From the slivers of mirror outlining your head and torso, the view of your fiance’s figure is slight but powerful. He’s in a crisp gray suit, a chain glittering beneath the bit of his white collar that he unbuttoned out of frustration from waiting for you. The rosy tone of his hair is interrupted by the darkness of his undercut, and his eyes are squinted. His gaze is sharp and a deep garnet shade, spilling over you like red wine. Sukuna’s appearance never deviates from anything short of striking, and the intensifying clench of his jaw only makes his face more ruggedly handsome. 

His eyes bore into your back, but you continue fluffing up your hair and wiping the excess color around the bottom of your lip into a precise shape. You’re doing your best to hurry, but you hate being rushed. Sukuna should be used to that by now. Plus, you always thought he looked kind of hot while angry.

“I know you like to take your time to get ready, but we’re already late.” He warns, trying to be firm.

The impatient man comes to your side, lifting his wrist to stare at the watch cinched there. It was your birthday gift to him, and you know the golden hands of the watch must be ticking away the seconds faster than you’d like.

“In a minute, I swear! Don’t be a dick.” You pick up the tube of lipstick again.

Suddenly, Sukuna grabs your arm. The touch around your flesh is light, but surprising enough to force your line of vision up to him.

Although you’ve spent hours tracing over them, Sukuna’s stunning features still make your heart pound faster whenever you have an up close view. Long, thick lashes shadow the lines of his eyes, and you remember how they feel brushed across your cheek every time he embraces you and tucks his head into the nape of your neck. His nose is tall and pointed at the end, and he stares down the bridge to see your lips parting at his proximity.

You notice him intake his own breath, the air thickening between you two until he swallows. The drag of his Adam’s apple is slow, and he speaks lowly.

“Although you look…” An exhale leaves him, then he lifts your chin with the sides of his fingers, “Absolutely gorgeous. We have to go.”

As smitten as he appears, you know that you’re not at all far off from sharing mutual reverence for him.

“Okay.” You give in, setting your makeup down while keeping your eyes on him.

He grins widely, his eyes filling with adoring approval at your inevitable submission.

“I’ll have to mess up your makeup later.” 

Sukuna ghosts his fingertips over one of your cheeks, and then seems to think better of it before sliding his hand to the back of your neck.

He leans forward, the curve of his lips moving along the shell of your ear and coiling a strand of your hair around his pointer finger. Your memory swarms with images of him sheened with sweat and gripping your hair.

“And trust me, that won’t be a minute.”

The insinuation induces a shiver down your body, and then he pulls back with a deep chuckle. 

The smug expression on his face has the wheels in your head turning. You don’t believe he can resist you.

“You sure about that?” You cheekily inquire, pulling the corners of your lips into an innocent smile.

Sukuna remains unphased, “Oh, I’m sure.”

You perk up at the coy promise, but he quickly lifts you by the wrist to have you stand and gives your butt a pointed slap.

“If we had more time I could fuck that little attitude out of you, but we don’t. That’s your fault.”

He shakes his head, dragging you closer and intertwining your hands together, “Come on, let’s go.”

After a couple steps towards the door, you tug his hand backwards, “Are you sure we don’t have enough time?”

Sukuna turns to give you a glare, he hates being late, but you know that you’ve found a way to make him somewhat okay with it.  

He tucks a couple fingers into the crevice of his shirt, unbuttoning it with a swear between his teeth.

“Take off your fucking clothes.”

_________________

End Notes:

last one! had to give it to my husband sukunaaa❤️❤️🔥

i like him all bothered hehe

thought about extending this but i kind of like leaving it off where i did, lmk if yall want the spicy part tho and maybe i'll put smth together lol

[spot-the-ableism]

to set the record straight, as I have zero things to hide.

[IMAGE ID: a tumblr post by user crippled-peeper, it is a reblog chain of 3 posts. It reads “accuses me of “race faking” because I talked about being a refugee from Katrina checks my bio again first line: white man” next reblog reads “idk what’s more fucked up, that these bloggers are named “spot the antisemitism” or “ spot the ableism” or the fact that they are so racist and ableist they think the only way a white person could be a refugee is if they’re making it up” next post reads “ “you can’t be a refugee and disagree with me!!! Everyone knows that I am the arbiter of who is and isn’t a refugee as someone who lives in a gated community in the USA !!! Don’t you know I RUN A BLOG?!?!?” The tags read “#I’m so glad other people are im agreement that these kids are actual clowns not to be taken seriously at all” END ID:]

I never said or insinuated that you were not a climate refugee, nor that you were a racefaker

above is proof, I have not edited the posts nor want to. You have the reblogs to prove I in fact did not edit anything.

the things you are claiming I “did” were things that spot-the-antisemitism did and said.

intracommunity ableism is still ableism, hate speech against both Jewish and other disabled people is not okay, you can be both completely totally right to call out spot-the-antisemitism’s ableism and commit hate speech against random Jewish and disabled people. You can do both, nuance exists.

me calling you out on harmful behaviour and inciting hate speech is not a bad nor immoral thing I’d hope you would do it to me.

Link 1

Link 2

Link 3

Link 4

if you are mad at me swearing at you may I remind you that you have committed way worse acts of hate speech and yet I gave you benefit of the doubt. People are allowed to swear at people.

i have said you may be having a horrible time right now due to medication troubles and that people should not harass you regardless. And that they should keep in mind that you have been through a lot and do not want harassment. I do also humbly apologise for swearing it was wrong of me to and not conducive to anything helpful.

if anything I have been way too forgiving, what you have said to many well meaning and non-ableist/normal disabled people has been utterly vile and yet do I use that against you? Yet do I say those same things towards you? Yet do I mean to hurt or harass you? No.

I live my life, you live yours, I care about you enough to actually call out people who do wish to hurt you. I shouldn’t, but I do. If you return my very calm and sincere response with the same energy and hatred that you usually do it is not in good faith.

you are having a hard time, a hard time always. And I do not wish to contribute to that. But I cannot stay silent and let others be hurt by what you do and you say. Words do effect reality, there are people behind these screens and I am one, and I am writing this sincerely.

again why am I ableist when I was the one to in fact call out and hold spot-the-antisemitism accountable, and explain why it was bad? I spotted the ableism, simple as that.

I am no wimp, or coward if you wish to call me horrible things I am proud to Bare it.

As I do with all things.

sincerely a disabled person who was told way worse things than this over the course of my childhood.

if you do say "KYS" or any variation of it I will be reporting you.

as that. is. hate. speech. and violent speech which. is. not. legal.

I have not discriminated against you nor malgendered you, I have only sweared at you at the worst (and called out that fakeclaiming and spewing violent hate speech is unacceptable), if anything I have been on your side on most of this.

this comes from a place of love, not hatred.