#the NEED to make something bizarre and discomforting

[astral-cataclysm]

it's been too long since i made something strange and off putting, i need to make another weird video

[librarycards]

something about most of the americans who post about the 'shitty educational system making them think there are no cities in mexico' or something is that, on a deep level, they enjoy & revel in their ignorance, their incuriosity. they share the same bombastic and self-congratulatory anti-intellectualism as any trump-voting uncle, except enjoy couching it in the auspices of [white] queerness & disability.

i am white (more or less) and queer and disabled & attended shitty schools in de facto segregated areas, i have encountered these ppl all my life, and what has always struck me as bizarre and embarrassing is the sheer ease with which alternate forms of info were accessible. all you needed was an internet connection, which we almost uniformly had. i found information about whiteness & intersectionality & colonialism & empire as a preteen through blogs and tumblr and other social media, and when i got older, followed my curiosity to actual books on these topics and more. it did not require anything exceptional, or even a higher education.

people know these resources are there. they know how to find them, in no more clicks than it takes to get to their favorite show or fanfic or whatever. but the discomfort that encountering new info requires, the embrace of the unknown, the genuine intellectual & emotional engagement with difference and friction, is something that they deep down know that "we" (in the global north/west) have the privilege to refuse. and there is a horrible "pleasure" in that refusal, that knowledge that one is permited to know nothing and still have the world at one's feet. it is despicable and inexcusable, and i'm glad it is getting vocally called out.

[p0orbaby]

Finders Keepers

summary: you’re good at catching things, leah’s eye is one of them

warnings: a little suggestive

a/n: thank you for the request !

word count: 2k

-

You’re the new goalkeeper coach for the Lionesses, which is great, except for one glaring problem: Leah Williamson. She’s distracting, in the way that a house fire distracts you from finishing your cup of tea. You’ve never coached a team that required so much attention to detail, and you’re starting to understand why. You need every neuron firing just to remember how to breathe when she’s in the vicinity, let alone when she’s talking to you.

And she talks to you a lot. It’s not always about goalkeeping either, which is alarming, because you’re really only equipped to discuss which angle to cover or how to improve reaction time. Instead, she wants to talk about where you’re from, what you think of London, whether or not you like Thai food. She asks you about your star sign once, which is bizarre because you’re not sure if she believes in that sort of thing or is just trying to make you sweat. You lie and say you’re a Pisces, mostly because it seems like the least offensive answer, and she nods like that explains something.

You try to keep your interactions professional, but she makes it difficult. For instance, Leah has a habit of “accidentally” bumping into you. She claims it’s because she’s got bad spatial awareness, but you’re fairly certain she just likes the way you flinch when she does it. You’ve read somewhere that “accidental” touch is a sign of attraction, but you’re not sure if that applies when the person doing the touching has the coordination of an european champion.

One day after training, she lingers on the pitch while you’re gathering up cones, which you suspect is an attempt to chat you up. She watches you with a smirk, and you can feel her eyes burning into the back of your head like an exceptionally focused laser pointer.

“You missed one,” she says, pointing out a cone about three feet to your right. You didn’t miss it, but you pick it up anyway because you can’t think of anything better to do.

“Thanks,” you mumble, trying not to meet her eyes, because when you do, it’s like looking directly at the sun. Leah Williamson is a human eclipse, and you’re about to go blind from prolonged exposure.

“No problem,” she replies, not moving.

She’s still standing there when you finish. You’re holding a bag of cones and looking for an escape route, but she’s planted herself directly in your path like she’s grown roots.

“You’re not running off, are you?” she asks, with the kind of grin that makes you wish you’d pursued a career in something less perilous, like bomb disposal.

“I was thinking about it,” you admit, and she laughs, which is a mistake because her laugh does things to you—dangerous, uncoachable things.

“You’re cute,” she says, and now you’re actively searching for the nearest exit, because if she keeps this up, you’re going to do something really stupid, like ask her out for coffee or give her your social security number.

“Uh, thanks,” you stammer, clutching the bag of cones like it’s a life preserver.

She tilts her head, clearly amused by your discomfort. “No need to be nervous,” she says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world to relax when Leah Williamson is standing less than a foot away from you.

You’re not nervous, you want to say, but that would be a lie, and you’re not about to start lying to yourself, not when you’ve done such a good job of repressing your feelings up until this point.

“Well,” you say, taking a step back, “I should probably—”

“Want to get a drink?” she interrupts, like she’s asking you if you want to grab a sandwich, and you nearly drop the cones because your brain can’t process the words coming out of her mouth.

“What?” you blurt out, because that’s all your synapses can muster.

“A drink,” she repeats, like it’s the most normal thing in the world for a player to ask out their coach. “You know, alcohol? Liquid courage?”

You’re pretty sure you’ve just suffered a minor stroke, because the world tilts sideways and your pulse goes through the roof. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” you manage to say, which is the understatement of the year, considering the fact that you’ve spent the last three months trying to convince yourself that Leah is just another player on the team, and not the walking, talking embodiment of temptation.

“Why not?” she asks, and you can tell by her tone that she’s genuinely curious, like the idea of you turning her down is as foreign to her as the concept of gravity.

“Because,” you start, then pause, because you don’t have a good reason, and she knows it.

“Because?” she prompts, raising an eyebrow.

“Because it’s unprofessional,” you say finally, as if professionalism is something you’ve ever been good at.

“We’re not at work now,” she points out, and you hate that she’s right. You hate that she’s standing so close to you that you can see the tiny freckle just above her left eyebrow. You hate that you want to reach out and touch it, trace the shape of her face with your fingers.

“Leah—” you start, but she cuts you off by taking a step forward, closing the gap between you. She’s close enough now that you can smell the faint hint of her shampoo, something fresh and citrusy that makes you want to bury your face in her hair and never come up for air.

“I’ll see you later, then,” she says, and it’s not a question.

-

You don’t know why you go. Maybe it’s because you’ve never been particularly good at saying no, or maybe it’s because the idea of Leah waiting for you is too tempting to resist. Either way, you find yourself standing outside the pub, staring at the sign like it’s going to give you the answers to the universe.

Inside, Leah’s already at the bar, leaning against the counter with the kind of casual confidence that makes you wonder if she’s ever had an awkward moment in her life. When she spots you, she grins, and it’s like the sun coming out from behind the clouds.

“You made it,” she says, as if there was any doubt.

“Yeah,” you reply, because what else can you say? I’m here because I’m an idiot? I’m here because I can’t stop thinking about you? I’m here because I’m trying really hard not to fall in love with you and failing miserably?

“Drink?” she asks, holding up her pint glass.

“Sure,” you say, because if you’re going to make bad decisions, you might as well make them with alcohol in your system.

She orders you a drink, something that tastes like it should be served in a coconut with an umbrella, but you don’t complain because it’s delicious and also because Leah’s eyes are twinkling in that way that makes your stomach do somersaults.

“So,” she says after a moment, “why don’t you want to go out with me?”

The question hits you like a freight train. “I never said that,” you protest, but your voice is weak, like you’re already losing this battle.

“You didn’t have to,” she replies, taking a sip of her drink and watching you over the rim of the glass. “But you’re not very good at hiding it”

“I’m not?” you ask, horrified at the idea that your feelings might be more obvious than you’d like to admit.

“Nope,” she says, popping the “p” in a way that should be illegal. “It’s written all over your face”

“Oh.” You stare into your drink, wondering if it’s possible to drown in a pint glass.

“But it’s okay,” she continues, and now she’s leaning in closer, her knee brushing against yours under the table. “Because I’m not really good at hiding it either”

And that’s when you know you’re completely, irrevocably screwed.

-

It’s not a relationship, you tell yourself, because relationships require labels, and what you and Leah have is more like an ongoing series of bad decisions strung together by moments of sheer idiocy.

You try to keep things professional, but it’s difficult when she keeps showing up at your door with that grin and that laugh and those hands that seem to know exactly where to touch you to make your brain short-circuit.

One night, after you’ve spent far too long convincing yourself that you’re strong enough to resist her, she shows up at your flat with food and a bottle of wine. You know it’s a trap, but you let her in anyway, because you’re a sucker for Thai fried rice and bad decisions.

You spend the evening on the settee, eating and drinking and pretending like you’re not going to end up in bed together by the end of the night. You watch some terrible low budget comedy that Leah picked out, and you’re about halfway through when she starts inching closer to you, like she’s trying to be subtle but failing spectacularly.

“You’re sitting awfully close,” you point out, because it’s either that or spontaneously combust from the proximity.

“Am I?” she asks innocently, but there’s a twinkle in her eye that tells you she knows exactly what she’s doing.

“Yes,” you reply, but you don’t move away, because if you’re going to go down in flames, you might as well enjoy the heat.

She grins, and then her hand is on your thigh, fingers tracing patterns that make your heart race. “I think you like it,” she says, and it’s not a question.

“I think you’re trouble,” you counter, but you don’t stop her when she leans in and kisses you, soft and slow, like she’s got all the time in the world.

You kiss her back, because you’re weak and because she tastes like wine and because you’re tired of pretending like this isn’t exactly what you want.

The rest of the movie is forgotten as you tumble into bed together, a mess of tangled limbs and breathless laughter. It’s fast and frantic, like you’re both trying to make up for lost time, and when it’s over, you’re left lying there, staring at the ceiling and wondering how you got here.

“Don’t think too hard,” Leah murmurs, her head resting on your chest, and you can feel her breath against your skin, warm and steady. “You’ll hurt yourself”

“Too late,” you mutter, but you don’t push her away, because despite everything, despite all the reasons this is a terrible idea, you like the way she feels next to you.

“We’re a disaster,” you say after a while, because the silence is starting to make you anxious, and you’ve never been good at sitting with your own thoughts.

“I know,” she replies, and you can hear the smile in her voice. “But we’re a fun disaster”

You can’t argue with that, so you don’t. Instead, you close your eyes and let yourself drift off, hoping that when you wake up, you won’t regret this as much as you probably should.

-

You start seeing each other regularly after that, though you both refuse to call it dating. Dating implies a level of commitment that you’re not ready to acknowledge, and anyway, this is more like…mutual self-destruction with benefits.

You try to keep it a secret from the team, but you’re fairly certain they’re onto you. Especially after that time Leah practically tackled you during training because she “tripped” over her own feet, which would be believable if she wasn’t literally the most coordinated person you’ve ever met.

“You’re an idiot,” you tell her later, as you’re trying to pry her off of you in the changing room, but she just laughs and kisses you on the cheek, because apparently she’s incapable of taking anything seriously.

“I’m your idiot,” she replies, and you hate how much you love the sound of that.

You’re not sure how long this can go on before everything blows up in your face, but for now, you’re content to keep making the same mistakes over and over again. After all, if you’re going to screw up, you might as well do it with someone who makes it fun.

And Leah Williamson, for all her flaws, is nothing if not fun.

Even if she is going to be the death of you.

[centrally-unplanned]

Look, I understand that I am complaining about clickbait here - I am the problem, "you are talking about it baby". I know, I know, I am a sinner.

But like can we stop doing that thing where when foreign people make jokes we pretend they aren't obviously jokes? Nakashima (writer of Kill la Kill) in a sit down with Imaishi told a funny joke about their heavy fanservice:

Nakashima: After all, what we're creating are commercial works, so we want people to see them. It's understandable if people say they don't get it, we don't want them to feel unnecessary discomfort. However, if we all create something completely sanitized, it lowers the collective immune system, and everyone ends up dying. So, there's also the idea that we deliberately take on a bad reputation and put out harmful things. Imaishi: Haha. Nakashima: We do it with the high ideal of "this is necessary for humanity's immune system." It's never understood, but we bear the bad reputation and perish for humanity's sake. There's that path of doing it with that kind of resolve (laughs). Imaishi: That being said, if possible, I don't want to perish (laughs).

This is cute, right? Like humanity's prudishness needs the vaccine of media fanservice to immunize it against the true sex. Its both, again, a joke, its not a real argument. But also its a cute way of saying that society needs a diversity of content, you gotta get the raw stuff sometimes so you are ready for it in life. Valid enough argument honestly, I agree that every teen should see some porn in their day to learn.

So can dumb dumb western media sources stop pretending that they don't know this is a cutesy metaphor? Did you read it?? Its not "bizarre", you are talking to the creators of Kill la Kill for fucks sake, what did you expect.

[tarjapearce]

ok, sorry if this sound dumb but what if Miguel broke his arm on a mission or training or something and his kinky brain can't think of how to fight off his desire for the reader while his right hand is no longer useable? sorry words are hard. just thinking about obsessed simp Miguel and i can't even!

Need a Hand?

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

(no pun intended). NSFW, Masturbation, Voyeurism, Dirty talk, a little of sub! Miguel.

Bizarre.

There wasn't another word that described the situation before you, but a lot of different synonyms. Funny, preposterous, ridiculous.

Him, out of everyone, out of the high endurance and resilient people you've met, had broken his arm while fighting Kingpin.

Fisk had snapped his arm like a twig while trying to stop him from rebuilding the particle collisioner. Even though the big man was put behind bars on his world, Miguel had suffered the consequences of the criminal's misguided wrath.

Another lesson for the Boss, really. He might have encountered many variants and villains through the years, even gotten used to their fighting like a second nature, however he was often prone to forget that some of those variants were even more vicious than the others and that he was still human.

And this Kingpin was either narcotically enhanced or was having a bad bad day.

"Serves you right." You chided him while taking a look at his forearm, tucked in within a thick mesh of resin, allowing his skin to breath and heal properly without restricting his limb completely, something he had designed himself.

"You're not funny."

"And you're a sore loser. Anyways, I'll shall get going. This Spiderwoman needs to face the landlord for increasing my rent without telling. Stay out of trouble and rest, Miguel."

With a pat on his shoulder, a portal was open to your dimension. His eyes fixed on your disappearing form through it.

A deep exhale. His hands rubbed softly where you had touched him. Warmth still lingered for a second before disappearing.

"Heartbeat frequency and neural activity increased, should I arrange a visit to the medical bay?"

"No. Just... get the coffee machine brewing."

"Wouldn't that make it worse?"

"Lyla" He warned and Lyla rolled her holographic eyes

"Yeah, yeah. I'll get Jessica if a heart attack happens."

"That's not how caffeine works."

Lyla shrugged before disappearing out of his sight.

-----

Despite being light and doing it's work as it should, the cast was turning into a nuisance. Even the Spider doctor had told him to keep it easy. Spider people healed fast that was much true, but that didn't mean they had to be as reckless as he was being.

Holed up in his lab, trying to get a proper hold of his cock after his eyes had stumbled upon a rare and delicious gem. Footage of you removing the watch and taking a shower. Other of you getting out of your suit and laying naked on your bed as you scrolled through your phone to watch silly videos.

But the one that had put in him in the predicament he was now, replayed over and over, as if engraving it in his brain wasn't enough.

You in bed, naked, a frequent habit he supposed, dragging slow and lazy circles on your clit while watching a saved porn video.

Smooth flesh parted and toyed with, glistening by the neurological response to such imagery.

His hand stroked himself but it felt wrong and painful. His bone wasn't cooperating, and neither was he with the aftercare.

You'd probably be nagging him on how stupid he was being for being so careless and stupid. A lazy smile crept to his face. You were so annoying, pretty and clearly making a mess out of him. The pain remained in his arm but it mattered little as the strokes were heightening his senses.

But as soon as Miguel tried to increase the pace, the sharp discomfort anchored him back to reality.

"Puta madre" He growled and let his cock go, frustrated for being unable to jerk off properly. He tried with his left hand but it wasn't as coordinated and vicious like his right hand. His upper back muscles tensed before throwing a metallic jumble of things in the wall. Suit quickly trapped his cock again.

What was the use of having it free would be if he couldn't get off without feeling pain?

"Miggy Miggy, where are you?"

Shit

He punched the screen off before you ventured in his room. Just in time to not blow his cover.

"Heard something crash, what's not working properly this time?"

His eyes darted to his own hands, but yours were settled on him, red eyes followed your line of sight and it dawned on him. A little flush bloomed in your cheeks.

"Oh."

A smirk displayed on your lips. Certainly a reaction he wasn't expecting.

"Need a hand?" You giggled while he frowned at your own little joke.

"That's... That's not funny."

"I'm not mocking you, Miggy. " With every step closer you gave, he stepped two back, until his back collided with the TV he had just punched. Turning it on back to life.

The lewd moans of your video echoed behind him and your eyes widened.

"Is that..."

You gulped at the sounds. It was impossible to not recall such moans when you knew them by heart, your favorite video. Something you had fantasized a shit ton of times with Miguel, if you were honest. You pushed him out the way to see what had gotten him all worked up.

"W-Wait!"

Your eyes remained glued on the screen, watching how you played and touched yourself. Fingers spreading and toying your cunt.

"Where did you get this?" He had to snap his head your way to divert his attention from the video and pin it on you.

"You leave the... uh... channel open."

It wasn't a lie. Ever since a little mission your gizmo had been malfunctioning. And the recording had been one of them.

"Makes sense. Told you to fix it and you didn't listen."

He swallowed thickly, hoping you'd forget about it. But of course, that wasn't possible.

"Did you like it, though?"

That smirk of yours made his senses to flare up in danger. He shrugged and your brow quirked in disbelief.

"Your cock betrays you, O'Hara"

His eyes narrowed when you stepped closer, but again the chair behind him blocked his escape, he plopped on it while you sat on one of his muscular and meaty thighs. He had to improve the distribution of the place later.

"Let me help with that."

His breath hitched at your words. Eyes locked with his, visual contact sacred to him, as your hand slid down his firm torso, the suit vanishing as you reached down his groin.

Hefty cock sprung back to freedom, a pearly bead of his precum greeting you while you took a hold of his base.

"So big and pretty" You nodded. It sent shivers down your spine, the way he breathed. His generous lips parting to give you a low groan as your thumb smeared the cum on his tip.

"Yeah?" He rasped and you pumped deep.

His jaw clenched and his eyes drooped, lust blown. A fiery flush covered his cheeks. His legs instinctively spreaded more to you, giving you more access to him. We'll worked arms rested on the chair, clawing at the hardened material of it.

Your hand let him go for a moment, fingers collected a good amount of saliva, to then paint his cock with it, making the pumping motion swiftly and faster.

His mouth slacked open, his left hand coaxed your head closer, pressing your forehead against his.

His eyes never left you, just like your hand never abandoned his cock. In fact, your fist had trapped his tip and squeezed his tip, earning you a well deserved whimper.

"You like that, Miggy?"

He nodded in between breathless and deep pants. His groans increased their intensity as you moved your hands to his base. Index and thumb finger circled around him, tightening as much as they could without hurting him. A delicious hiss escaped his mouth followed by a shivering moan.

"Wished it was my pussy right now, don't you?" The pace you settled on him, had his hips slowly fucking into your hole shaped hand, your words only urging the already running rampant imagination.

"So tight and squeezing your cock, hmm?"

"Si" A hiccup as the chair trembled with your ministrations, "Ay por Dios, si"

Fingers focused on his tip again and his teeth ground together. His grip on your nape firmer, as if to prevent you from escaping

"Want to fill my pussy with your cum, Miggy?"

"E-Everyday" He croaked and you smiled above his lips, hot breath fanning over his mouth. Hands clenching and unclenching at the motions your hand provided him. His cum was a magnificent lube.

"My God, so so greedy" You cooed while smirking. You had him a babbling mess since your hand never waned, your voice was like a merciless guide, exposing his deepest desires with such ease it only added more gasoline to his scorching need.

His spine arched subtly, making his head throw back, chest heaved in erratic breaths, matching the thrumming of his heart and the unceasing waves of pleasure, set to drown him.

"Wanna ruin me, Miggy?"

"Yes." He hissed.

His body slowly melting into he chair. You could feel his thighs trembling.

"Are you close?"

His lips searched yours in a measly attempt to placate his babbling mouth, instead you took a hold of his jaw with your free hand, bringing his eyes to yours, and God, you groaned at the sight.

"Give it to me" You moaned. His brows knitting together in a deep yet pleasurable frown, mouth shaped in a messy 'a'.

"Así... Si..." He gulped a choking sob. He inched closer and closer to the fire, calling him to be consumed.

"Wanna cum?"

"No pares por favorno-" He slurred and tripped over his words as thick blobs and spurts of his cum spilled over your hand and wrist. His breath hitched to finally be released in a jagged groan while you gave him the last and deepest strokes.

"Dios..." He whimpered and held onto you, anchoring to something before his soul floated away from his body. The hot of his breath was captured between your lips, granting you a low growl as he rode his high.

Some of his cum had stained the floor. You stood and licked his cum off your fingers, relishing the tangy and salty taste.

"Let me know when you need help again, Miggy"

Before he could reach out again, you were already at the door, waving a little taunting goodbye. He'd definitely need help again.

[ozzgin]

Also I love your blogs sorry I’ve been spamming 🩷Hii Author, could you do another part for the small prehistoric reader, where she is actually really strong even though she’s small and innocent looking like stronger than Yujiro and Baki but she’s only really like that when she’s in heat. I wonder how the would react Yk 🤔

Sure! It’s been suggested in the comments as well and it does have a fun twist to it. Female characters stronger than the main cast is the one uncanonical construct that I deeply enjoy.

Baki Characters x Prehistoric! Small Reader Headcanons (II)

Featuring the Baki characters and a prehistoric but small sized reader that turns out to be unexpectedly strong.

[Baki Masterlist] [Part I]

The fighters keep a respectable distance from you in order to assure Pickle of your safety. They’d rather not pose as a threat to his mate, especially after seeing how protective he can get. He always keeps you under his watchful gaze, ready to interfere if you need to make use of his strength. At times he’s particularly anxious around you. Professor Payne has explained in more scientifically appropriate terms that you might be dealing with female specific issues. No one pressed it further.

This peaceful resolve does not sit well with Yuujirou. How very pathetic and boring that everyone concomitantly agreed to mind their own business. He itches for a little bit of action and what better way to rile up the prehistoric warrior than messing with his little protégé? He doesn’t want to risk fighting a half-assed Pickle, he wants the wrath, the readiness to kill. So with arrogant mockery he decides to give you a little nudge in front of everyone. Just a mere push, he does show mercy to weaklings like you. Baki is enraged and the other men join him. Everyone is waiting for Pickle to make his move, though bizarrely enough he just stands there, eyes wise in shock. Yuujirou didn’t expect this lack of reaction.

The Ogre is a man with battle experience and nothing can take him by surprise. It is to be noted, however, that sometimes a trade off for the sake of efficiency has to be made. A rational agent in artificial intelligence may have to take millions of variables into consideration in order to compute the most optimal solution and react to the environment. Realistically speaking, therefore, some less probable events are taken entirely out of the equation. So, for example, the idea that you would attack Yuujirou was not something his body expected to react against. The impact of your small fist was doubled by this element of surprise. His eyes roll back and his large body is thrown at quite the distance, leaving significant damage behind.

There’s a deafening silence that lingers for what seems an eternity. Baki feels a mild discomfort on the walls of his throat and he realizes his mouth has been hanging open for long enough that it almost dried up. Did you…did you just knock his father out with one single hit? He slowly turns his head to the other witnesses, wondering if this is a dream and the others will confirm it. Judging by the equally dumbfounded expressions surrounding him, he suspects fearfully that it is, in fact, something that just happened. Jack feels like he’s been kicked in the crotch. Katsumi is overwhelmed by a certain nostalgia, the nervousness he felt when he was a little child attending the Dojo for the very first time. Retsu purses his lips as a solemn frown creases his features. Tokugawa can feel the beads of sweat gathering in the folds of his wrinkled forehead.

The least impressed of the group is Pickle. Almost as if he expected it to happen, he walks up to you and grabs your shoulders before you can approach Yuujirou’s passed out body. Your face relaxes once again and you look up to him with a genuine smile, as if soothing his worries. You’ll stop here, no worries. You pat his large hands and turn around, prepared to leave the scene.

The frightful question now plagues the fighters within the arena: was Pickle protecting you from them, or has it been the other way round all along?

[stayinhellevator]

Intersection

"And now you're just a page torn from the story I'm living"

Synopsis: A twisted turn of events lead you to question everything you've ever known of Mingyu.

Pairing: Mingyu x fem!Reader

Genre: Soulmate AU/Angst/Betrayal

Word Count: 2723

Warnings: Cuss words, non-graphic description of s3x, probably bad writing, cheating

Playlist: Dynasty ~Miia

<Prev> <Masterlist> <Next>

All your life, the concept of soulmates was romanticised and worshipped. You had friends who were happily bonded, co-workers who found peace in their mates, hell even your parents were truly a match made in heaven; their relationship was such an inspiration for you that it made you crave that kind of intimacy and understanding with yours. The way they understood each other with just a knowing look made you respect their bond. You wanted what they had.

And you got it and more when you found Mingyu through some mutual friends and discovered that you two were soulmates. You were over the moon to have found a man so gorgeous inside out. You were scared that he was only a glittery sham but he swept you right off your feet.

There was not a day that passed by that Mingyu failed to make your life seem like a fairy tale. Sure you had your share of arguments and disagreements but in the end, you two ended up right back in each other's arms, where you two truly belonged. He made your heart race every single moment and there was no place that you'd rather be if not beside Mingyu.

There's nothing else you could possibly want.

Or maybe there is.

You watched the way Seokmin and his soulmate naturally gravitated towards each other, practically glowing with a giddy aura around them and you couldn't wait for the day when Mingyu and you were standing on the altar, exchanging vows of your own, just like them.

And you knew it would be equally, if not more, magical the day that you do, for your life with Mingyu was like a fruitful reward for all the sufferings of your past lives. It had to be because there's no way you'd be blessed with a partner like Mingyu, who seemed to love you more than life itself.

Your wandering eyes fell on another pair that you recognised and your heart filled with sympathy for them. Mingyu once shared Seungcheol's dilemma with you and you remember quickly sending a quick prayer to whatever God blessed you because you couldn't imagine being bondless and then finding love in someone who's meant for someone else, alone your own sibling. Thank God you had Mingyu who loved and accepted you without any inhibitions.

As if feeling your gaze on them, his lover met your eyes and you two exchanged a perceptive smile, completely aware of each other's expressions and feelings. You truly wished for them to find happiness, they were good people or at least from what Mingyu told you and you trusted him. He had known Seungcheol through work  before you two had even met, so obviously he knew better than you when it came to his friends and you completely trusted his judgement.

Speaking of which, it had been nearly half an hour since Mingyu disappeared with some colleagues for a few drinks. God you hope he didn't get drunk, he was already tipsy before he left. You turned down towards the hallway, aware that you need to find Mingyu soon for he becomes a real piece of work when drunk, refusing to part even an inch from you, sulking if you don't give into his bizarre wishes.

All of a sudden, a strenuous sensation gripped your chest, as if someone was squeezing your heart and then mangled it. It made you lean against the wall and rub your chest, hoping to soothe the discomfort. A drop of blood fell on your knuckle, making you realise that you had a nosebleed too.

What the hell was this? You had never felt something like this before. Was it something that you ate? Or drink? But you didn't drink too much. Oh God! What if something happened to Mingyu? Was he okay? You had several stories of a soulbond being affected if a bonded mate is injured or sick.

Gosh! You needed to find him without any delay.

You spotted a guest room right across you, the door ajar and seemingly vacant so you decided to use the washroom to clean off the blood of your face and clothes only to halt at the threshold, unable to process the sight that you witnessed.

A man that had a striking resemblance to Mingyu was all over a woman; their lips locked in a frenzy, their hands wandering to forbidden places and their hips conjoined and moving in short, quick thrusts.

The man moved his kisses down the woman's neck; the woman you knew all too well as Mingyu's ex-girlfriend and colleague, who though mutually broke up, was always having eyes for your soulmate, often throwing a few flirty remarks here and there, uncaring about your presence and soon enough you had learnt to ignore her because Mingyu hadn't given you any reason to not trust him, had he? He loved you and only you so why should you even bother?

It couldn't be your Mingyu, no, you were probably hallucinating. Mingyu would never cheat on you, he cannot even think of hurting you like that even in his wildest dreams.

The trickling tears down your cheeks angered you. Why were you even crying over a misunderstanding? You harshly wiped your cheeks, almost walking out when she moaned out his name, loud and clear, sealing the fated doom of your soul bond and the remainder of your life with it.

"Gyu!"

You helplessly watch as he groaned in what you know for sure, ecstasy as his vigour only fueled further. You wanted to look away but you couldn't, hoping this nightmare would end and you'd wake up back in the safety of your bedroom in Mingyu's arms. You had hoped that her voice calling out a name that only you did would snap him out of whatever trance he seemed to be in and he'd realise that this wasn't you but some other woman. But it didn't.

You could feel it creeping up in you, the anger, an intense, uncontrollable hateful rage the longer you watched them and before your brain could even process, your hands had already picked up the vase on the hallway table and hurled it towards those cheating bastards, apathetic of the force inflicting any serious injury. In fact, you wanted it to hurt, you wanted them to bleed just as much as your heart was.

No, you wouldn't be the only one to end up hurting tonight.

You watched as the two flinched at the sudden attack as the vase bumped onto Mingyu's head with a thud, that was sure to bruise, before bouncing off to his cheating accomplice, hitting her right in the face, making her cry out in agony.

Good! Die in pain and burn in hell.

"I hope you had a good fuck Kim Mingyu because this is the last time you feel anything."

You watched how Mingyu's face contacted in rage as he turned to face the intruder only to turn pale in horror as he realised you saw him being unfaithful to you. He jumped off the bed, fumbling over his clothes and putting them on haphazardly, increasing your disgust and fury. You swear you wanted to kill him and then yourself, such was your temper that was building up and consuming you. You dug your nails in your knuckles, wishing it'd distract you for a moment.

"Baby, I swear it's not like that. I ..I don't even know how I ended up here... It just happened...."

You wanted to believe him and you would have disillusioned yourself into thinking he made a drunken mistake, such was your love for him, if he wasn't sober. And that alone shattered your heart into further tiny irreplaceable bits. What excuse would you make up in your head to put your brain into a delusion that this never happened and that your Mingyu was in love with you. Only you.

"I can't believe you Mingyu. Why?"

You watched Mingyu visibly shrink as your exhausted question echoed in the silence of the room.

"I ..I don't know baby..I ..I have no excuses for this.... I'm so sorry baby.... Love...I will make it up to you I swear...."

The more he spoke, the more you wanted to hurt him. How dare he even have the audacity? How would he make it up to you? What would he make up when nothing is left to be repaired?

You watched as he tried to hold your shaking hands in his only for you to violently jerk his hold off you.

"Don't you dare fucking touch me with your disgusting hands."

You appalled scream froze him to his place as tears cascaded down his face as the horrifying effect of his infidelity finally settled inside him. His touch, his face, his whole fucking existence nauseated you so much you couldn't stand to even look at him any longer than you already have.

You ran past the guests outside the venue, quickly texting your brother to come and pick you up because you knew your body was slowly giving up and in no time, you'd shut down.

A hand pulled you back around through the elbow as you realised Mingyu had chased you and pulled you to his chest, holding you by the cheeks.

"It wasn't meant to go this far, I swear baby, we were just catching up by the bar and the next thing I knew we were in bed together. It doesn't mean anything to me. She doesn't mean anything to me. It's you love I swear. Please don't go. I don't want to lose you."

"For someone who doesn't want to lose me, you don't act like you want to keep me."

His face portrayed his helplessness as he sobbed in disbelief which made you scoff in disdain. Did he really think his pathetic excuse of a reason was enough for you to stay and torment yourself for the rest of your life?

"This was a huge mistake love and it'll never happen again. I promise you."

You pushed him off you, making him tumble a few steps back.

"Damn right it won't because I won't stay around to find out if it does."

You only managed to take a few steps ahead when he ran around you to block your way. AGAIN!

"Baby please don't leave me. You don't understand. I'll die without you."

The wrath that was bubbling up within you every single second finally erupted at his audacious words. How dare he play the victim? You landed an impactful punch on his chest, sending him a few steps away from yourself, wanting to have an outlet was the ever increasing rage inside you.

"I don't understand? YOU don't understand Mingyu how heartbroken it is to have your trust broken by the one person you blindly put your faith in. YOU don't understand how humiliated I feel as I'm unable to face my own thoughts because I still can't process you could ever cheat on me in your friend's wedding venue. YOU don't understand how angry I feel at myself for still hoping you'd have a valid enough excuse for me to take your unfaithful ass back. YOU don't understand that all I see when I look at you now is not the countless good memories of us but you kissing and touching another woman the way you should've only done to me."

You could hear your voice dampening with every sentence as the weight of those vulnerable words settled between you two in the hollow night as sobs wrecked your fatigued body. Where did it all go wrong?

"Where did I lack Mingyu? What was it that I couldn't give to you? Why couldn't you tell me if I didn't satisfy you enough? What could I have done differently for you to not disgrace our bond like this?"

All your rage boiled down to cries as hopelessness washed all over your senses. You had endlessly and limitlessly given yourself to him and you still weren't enough? All those cherished moments between you two didn't mean anything to him? Your sacred bond reduced and succumbed to a one night stand. Was this your worth?

"It wasn't you baby. You are everything to me. There's nothing wrong with you. It's me...I'm stupid and selfish and undeserving of a goddess like you. Please, please forgive me love. I'd do anything to gain your forgiveness. Please!"

You watched as he fell down to his knees in front of you but even the pitiful sight of him tearfully begging you couldn't erase the sight of him buried inside her; the one that made you feel like an outsider in your own relationship.

"There's nothing you could do to mend us back Mingyu. We're done."

Even as you cried, you could slowly feel the emotions inside you hollowing into nothingness, an apathy was starting to wrap around your brain, numbing your thoughts.

"No no no this can't be the end of us. Not like this baby....we...we are soulmates.. We're meant to be... We can't be without one another.... Please...I love you...I love you so much....."

His confession should've thawed your heart, broken the barriers of numbness that your brain was building, reminded you of the kisses you shared when you first confessed your love for each other and warmed your heart, instead it made you want to throw up in your mouth for these words didn't mean anything to you anymore.

"But not enough to refrain from jumping into bed with every other woman that you see."

His shoulders slumped with defeat as he realised he was fighting a losing battle because your mind was slowly pushing itself into nothingness. There really was no turning back.

You willed yourself to walk away from him and turned round the next corner, right in time to empty out the contents in your guts, till you were left dry heaving and sobbing. You wanted to control yourself till you were safely home, where no one can find you and embarrass you but it was too much. Everything was too much. Your head was throbbing, your chest was constructing, your muscles ached, your brain had stopped working and your thoughts were a jumbled mess. Too much! Someone needed to stop all this.

Someone held your hair up simultaneously rubbing your back, trying to provide you some comfort. Gosh you didn't want anyone to see like this, all vulnerable and pathetic, only to find it was your sibling.

"Johnny!"

Your brother brought you to his chest, making your head slump in weariness and you felt his arms tighten around you securely.

"Ssh! I'm here.

You closed your eyes, hoping to muster as much strength as your brother could provide.

"It's all over John. I'm done."

You were entranced in the shimmering gold sparkle that was Kim Mingyu that you forgot that in the end, all glitter turned into nothing but dust. You had foolishly wanted to bask in the shimmer but your ignorance only left you in the midst of the dusty pile of the dazzle that was once your life.

In honour of all the good times that you had with Mingyu, you couldn't say you wished to turn back time to change everything because selfishly, you wanted to turn back time and pause it when you were contentedly lying in Mingyu's arms, listening to him ranting passionately about his favourite football team on a rainy night.

You had been loved but more importantly, you had been in love and that was something you cherished. You only prayed to whatever God that heard you, that if Mingyu is who you're meant to find in every life, then you wanted to be with him on happier terms; and not to love him for a while and then live on without him. And if all you two are is soulmates in betrayal, then you could only hope, you didn't love him so deep that he takes everything from you and you're left with nothing but emptiness.

You wanted to meet him on a path which allowed you both to walk together, watching all sunsets for the rest of your lives.

That's all you want; till then you're content to be just a page of his story.

©stayinhellevator2024: Please don't repost, copy or translate my work on any platform.

Read On Wattpad

[beesoreal]

weeping angel 💭 chapter 1: sal's dream

sal fisher x reader

the fog was thick. looking down, the blue-haired boy could barely make out each of his fingers, much less whatever lay before him.  he took a cautious step forward, feeling for possible drop-offs or something that could trip him. feeling nothing, he took another step forward. and another. and another. he isn't aware of how long he's been walking, but it feels like it's been forever. the cold and damp air leaves him with a constant feeling of discomfort, the silence only adding to the unsettling vibe. 

the boy takes a few more steps, but a sudden noise breaks the silence and makes him freeze. the sound of someone crying. confused and put off, he begins to look around in search of its source. with the fog being so thick, it was difficult for him to make out the direction the sound was coming from, so he decided to pick a direction randomly. his choice seemed to be working out, as the sound of the crying grew closer with every step he took.

it didn't take long before he came to a clearing in the fog, the ground below him was visible. as well as the source of the sobbing, a young girl. she lay before him, curled up into a ball and shivering violently as the sobs wracked her body. 

"hey uhm... are you okay..?" he asked, crouching down. 

a pale hand reached towards the girl hesitantly as an attempt to console her. his hand was just inches away when suddenly her head snapped towards him. a blinding light radiated from where her face should have been, and the boy was only able to make out one thing, her eyes. 

.

sal's eyes snapped open, revealing the tapestry he had hanging above his bed. covered in an uncomfortable layer of sweat, he pushed the grey comforter to the side and sat up.

"the fuck.." he mumbled, running a hand through his long blue mop of hair. he shook his head, groaning to himself. the first dream he's had in years, and he can't even begin to figure out what it means. turning to look at the small analog clock beside his bed, he sighs. 10:23. way too early for this shit. suddenly a knock sounds at the door to his room.

"sal? you awake?" sal's father, henry, calls from the hallway outside. the young boy responds with a grumbled 'yeah' and moves to open the door. Henry was standing in front of him, a tired grin on his face. 

"morning sunshine, i was just about to head off to get groceries. need anything?" he suggested, and sal shook his head groggily.

henry nods and closes the door softly. sal hears his footsteps retreading from his room, and the sound of the apartment's front door opening and closing moments later. after a few welcomed moments of standing and staring at the wall, the blue haired boy decided to actually do something productive. he waltzes over to his dresser, gazing at the various trinkets and things top of it. theres a couple figures from various shows hes watched placed around the top, a sketch on the left side, and on the right a wooden display case ash (known by other residents and kids at school by ashley) gave him.

inside the glass case are various colored and patterned glass eyes, some resembling realistic eyes, some have bizarre coloring. his personal favorite was one with a black sclera and a green iris, but he most often wore was almost identical to his left eye. 'less to explain' was his reasoning.

sal reaches for the prosthetic eye with a blue iris, using the other free hand to stretch open his lids. after placing the object in the socket, he blinks a few times to set it into place. continuing on with getting ready, sal opens his top dresser drawer to pull out one of the many dark colored t-shirts. this one just happened to be one of his favorites  an iron maiden graphic tee. lazily slipping out of the shirt he was sleeping in, he throws it halfhazardly in the direction of his hamper. he throws on the iron maiden tee, and makes his way towards the second drawer.

pulling open the drawer open, he searches around the inside, looking for a specific pair of pants. after a few moments he finds what hes looking for and pulls out a pair of black denim baggy jeans. he slips out of his boxers, putting a new pair on from a basket of clean clothes, and steps into the cark colored pants. satisfied with the outfit, he moves to grab his phone, swiping his finger across the screen to check any possibly messages. theres a few, a text from his dad, some emails, but the one hes focused on is a text from his best friend, and step brother, larry.

lord lar

heyhey! sal come down to my place when yr awake lol

lord lar

got something cool to show you, i think youll like it ;)

sal scoffs at his best friend mysterious yet funny message. reading the message he types back a quick response.

sal

sure thing you nerd

turning his phone off and placing it in his back pocket, sal moves towards the door, opening it and heading into the livingroom. on the couch lay gizmo, his (very spoiled) old man cat. sal gives a few quick pats to the beloved animals butt before slipping on his shoes, and heading out of apartment 402.

[bunniesanddeer]

HI <333

I was wondering if you could write an Alastor X insomnia!reader where like she wakes up in the night and overall just can’t get good sleep? And maybe she wanders around the hotel until she finds Alastor bc he doesn’t sleep often, and he offers to like go to bed with her and they cuddle? If you don’t want to that’s fine :)

Hi! I hope this is what you wanted? I like the way it turned out, even if it is really short.

Insomnia

Pairing: Alastor X Insomniac!Reader

Tags: Fluff, slight angst, insomnia, soft Alastor

Word Count: 966

Sleep has always dazed you. Some nights, it would wrap you up in its arms, embracing you like an old lover, and other nights, it shunned you entirely. Tonight, sleep left you cold and lonely in your bed, your thoughts your only company. 

Your room was silent. It was that silence that made you vividly aware of the rushing of your blood in your ears. It made your skin itch. Eventually you got too restless, and sat up in bed. Your nightgown rode up on your thighs, and it drew your attention to your legs. Your claws lightly scratched the skin there, trying to think of a solution to your problem.

You heave a sigh, and decide that grabbing some water might help. (You hated the taste of water, in Hell. It all tasted like slightly dirty tap water. It was awful. But then again, you were in Hell). 

The halls are quiet, the soft patter of your footsteps the only sound. You quietly make your way down to the first floor, and you intend on heading to the kitchen, when a light in the sitting room catches your attention.

Alastor is sitting in one of the lounge chairs, reading a book. The lamp closest to him was turned on, casting his face in a warm light. He looked softer, this way. You stood there, watching him for several moments. 

Alastor had been an enigma to you since you arrived in Hell. You had gone to the Hotel quite soon after your descent, so you didn’t know much about Overlords and how they worked. You knew that Alastor was one, but he had always been gentle enough with you, so the idea didn't scare you at all. He made you feel things that unsettled you. Your skin itched in his presence, and your heart fluttered. Every inch of you filled with a bizarre joy when he smiled at you. And no, not his normal smile. There were times, when he wasn’t really focusing, that his smile softened at the edges, and his pupils grew wide and locked on you.

There was so much you didn’t understand about Hell, or yourself, but this crush you had on him felt like it was growing out of hand.

Alastor’s thoughts jarred you from your thoughts. 

“What are you doing awake, dearest?” His voice was gentle, and his static was a mere murmur. His red eyes were watching you. 

You sighed. “I can’t sleep. Feels like I haven’t in a while,” you say, while striding over to him. His eyes flicker over your form, his eyes snapping to meet yours when he notices your attire.

“Ah. I have been in much the same position before. I have come to find that not sleeping at all is the solution!” He laughs a little, but it trails off after a moment. “You do look dreadfully tired, my dear.”

“Ha. Thanks, Al. Just what a gal wants to hear,” you say, gently teasing. You can’t help but feel that exhaustion seep into your bones at his words, though. You are tired, and that feeling has come to you far too often. 

His expression softens further, and he looks nearly sympathetic. It makes you feel something akin to discomfort, so you flick your gaze away. The wall looks incredibly interesting.

You hear the soft thud of his book closing, and then the shifting of fabric as he moves. “Come along, dear. Let us get into bed. Perhaps a bedmate will bring you enough ease to sleep.”

Your head whips around and up, so that you can look at him. He has to be joking. “You can’t be serious.”

One of his hands cups your cheek. “Come. You need sleep, and I might as well indulge. It has been some time.”

You wonder at his ease and the situation, and it makes you follow him, wordlessly. One of his hands clasps at yours, his claws carefully gripping, avoiding harm with dexterity. He leads you back to your room, and you are sure he has played some mean trick on you. He, instead, leads you inside, and gestures for you to lie down. 

Alastor glances around the room briefly, before snapping his fingers. He’s in pajamas now.

“Ah, that makes me jealous. I wish I could do that,” you whisper. You don’t know why you do, but it feels like it would be weird to speak any louder.

His laugh is soft, and it makes your chest warm. Without any preamble, he lies in bed beside you, and pulls you in against him. You are both lucky the beds in the hotel are so large, because he’s much bigger than you. (Part of you wouldn’t mind, though. It would just require him to curl around you… you need to stop thinking). 

Alastor lets one hand settle on your back, and gently rub there. Your head settles against his chest, and you can hear the heavy drumming of his heart. You feel like you’re dreaming. How can any of this possibly be real? Your relationship with him was in such a peculiar place, and you didn’t have any footing. You were so worried he was going to trip you up and let you fall, any minute.

Your heart starts pounding. As always, your overactive mind makes things hard for you. 

Alastor’s hand squeezes you down. “Stop thinking, sweetheart. We can talk about this tomorrow. Just sleep.”

So, focusing on the heat he gives off, and the weight of the blanket he pulls around you, you force yourself to relax. Your mind slows, and everything settles.

You fall asleep in the arms of Alastor, who lets his eyes close for more than a moment, for the first time in a long while. And the two of you sleep.

I hope you liked! Remember, my asks are open, it just might take me a little while to get to them. I have two more requests I am working on right now. One of them is similar to my "Touch" works, and another is based on the hallway scene in "Dad Beat Dad".

Have a good weekend, everyone!

[xstarkillerx]

Rail

TW: Drug usage

Drabble based on this ask.

Dom toretto x fem!reader x Brian O'Conner

hop hop 🐇

Long, fat, red at the tip, Dom Toretto's cock is hot in your hands. The heady scent of musk, of body, of a long day working the garage and even longer night putting that RX-7 to work fills your lungs as you rail the line he so graciously laid for you on it. He's got one of his massive hands on your head, heavy, warm, thumb stroking your head affectionately while your swipe your nostrils, eyes squeezed shut at the momentary discomfort. On the other couch is Brian, eyes furrowed, keeping cautious, never really able to drop the cop in him that's ready to jump in if he needs to. He's got a half-smoked blunt burning away in his hand that has him too high to not be laced with something. Despite himself, despite the bizarre circumstance, Brian's fucking hard too.

"That good?" Dom asks, and with powder still on your nose. You look up at him with those pretty eyes like that line wasn't enough and you can squeeze more outta him if you're sweet enough about it. He gives a fond half-smile, his little fucking junkie. Dom swipes at your nose, collecting the powder with his thumb like a father with a snotty child. He does the same with the residue on his cock before invading your lips with the large digit and spreading it on your gums. Your tongue chases it, already feeling the way it makes the thin skin tingle. He watches your pupils change, watches the coke kick in and, fuck, that's the part that always gets him, makes his dick twitch. Corruption. Corruption and pretty young girls who just just can't help but look up to him, trust him, let him lead them astray. He remembers Letty, the way she watched him down the street her whole life, wanted nothing more than to get Dom's attention until she learned this was what you need to do to get it. She had that same look in her eye that first time, wild, hungry fucking ready to go. He's a sucker for it.

Your skin is hot, your heart is racing, you feel like you can fly. You shove Dom's cock in your mouth and almost too eagerly and swallow him down your throat, earning a hiss from Dom through gritted teeth. You can't see it but Dom's looking at Brian and suddenly you're a prop, a toy, like all the other pretty things he uses to get his rocks off. The air is thick between them, scored by the wet gagging sounds of your throat. Tears well up in your eyes when Dom starts fucking your face, hips moving off the couch to shove it deeper down your throat and back out again, you grasp at his thighs for purchase. Brian and Dom are locked in eye contact, Brian is breathing heavy, fingers twitching to to free his cock from his boxers but his limbs feel heavy and sluggish.

Gasping and drenched in your own spit, Dom pulls you off his cock before he cums and uses what saliva you left on it to jerk himself off. "Where'd you want it?" His voice is low, slurred with lust and his own cocktail of chemicals in his system. He doesn't normally ask you this, you know he likes coating your face, likes the mess it makes, the way your features skew when you try to keep it out of your eyes. The question wasn't for you. He isn't even looking at you.

Brian blinks slowly, his head tingles with every movement and his eyes are heavy. "Tits." he says simply through his laboured breathing. Dom complies, and Brian's hips twitch at the sight of your pretty chest coated in his cum.

Desperate to take back the attention of the room you stand from where you were kneeling and lean in and capture Dom's lips in a sloppy kiss, the spit on your face smearing against his skin. You can't help but whine at the feeling of his warm tongue against your own. His fingers find your cunt and he isn't gentle about it; rough and thick he spreads your wetness before shoving them inside. You whine and are forced onto your tip-toes for a moment. Dom breaks the kiss.

"Look at him." he says, directing your gaze over at Brian who can't take his eyes off of you. He's since pulled the waist of his boxers down below his cock and is stroking it, slow, easy, shiny with the spit he shot into his own hand to slick it. "Go on." Your attention is brought back to Dom. "This pussy's greedy, I can feel it. You wanna get fucked? Go on." He slides his fingers out and sticks them in your mouth before sending you across the room to Brian who sits up out of his slouched posture to make more room for you on the couch. You straddle him, knees on either side of his waist and wait for him to guide his cock into position before you sink down on it, and christ, it's almost too much. The coke has your nerves on fire, the entrance alone was enough to get you moaning, but his voice, god his voice, the sound he makes when you get your pussy on him is what heaven must sound like.

"Fuck." he breathes, head spinning, every limb in his body tingling and sensitive, for someone who was so quiet before, he can't seem to shut up now, groaning and whining with every movement you make. It's a slow and easy fuck, too lost in the feeling of your pussy being filled to wanna rush it. Brian fills you up just right, hitting a spot inside you that makes you double over and grab the backrest behind him just to stay upright, it puts your cum-coated tits in his face which he happily sucks on until they're clean, sore and purple. Your orgasm rolls in slow, with the promise of hitting like a giant wave, full body, and it makes you go faster to chase it. Brian is barely containing himself, hands at your waist, staring up at your pretty face while he does everything he can to hold onto his orgasm until you find yours. It's the way you clench when you're close that sends him over, he cums just before you do, enough to where you get the pleasure of hearing his ragged voice cry out while you fuck down on his now sensitive cock. His body is limp, like all life has left it, shot into your body with the cum that's oozing out of your cunt.

Sweaty, placid, hoping for another line you look behind you at Dom who's already making his way over to the couch you share with Brian. He sits down and pulls you in for another dirty kiss, right there, while Brian's still got his cock in you, and with the guidance of Dom's hand, Brian forms a half-tight fist on Dom's cock to stroke it until he cums again. You clean it off of his fingers when he does.

🐇 hop hop

[mingihttps]

Hii! I'd like to place a request for skz members reaction to you getting afraid of needles at the doctor's. I know it's a bizarre request but i would really appreciate if you wrote something like thiss :)

Love your work, take caree<33

i love this ask so much!! i'm also really scared of needles so this was pretty easy and fun to write for me!

being afraid of needles

skz x reader (separately)

all can be read as gn besides han

wc: 1.9k

warnings: needles, doctors, hospitals, crying, blood, mentions of veins (changbin, seungmin), mentions of pregnancy (han)

bangchan:

you needed to get blood drawn-

you had told yourself many times that you can handle one needle. you really needed to get this blood work done since you had been putting it off for way too long.

chan went with you to the hospital since he knew you were going to need some comfort.

you anxiously sat in the passenger seat of the car while chan drove. your leg never stopped bouncing in the car, in the waiting room, and into the hospital room.

you let out a deep breath when the nurses said that they were ready, squeezing chan’s hand tightly.

when you first saw the needle you started crying on the spot. seeing the butterfly needle that would be going into my skin and vein made the whole situation more real.

you couldn't help but curl into yourself and cry your eyes out.

the nurses looked at chan, confused and worried about you. chan explained that you were scared of needles to the nurses.

the nurses tried to calm you down, but after 20 minutes they gave up and said that they weren't comfortable drawing blood from you in this condition.

once the nurses (and the needle) left the room you started to calm down with the help of chan.

you and chan left the hospital without getting your blood drawn.

on the drive back home you repeatedly apologized to chan for making him drive you to the hospital for nothing.

“it's okay, baby, no one’s blaming you"

lee know:

getting a flu shot-

you were required to get a flu shot for work so there was no backing out of this one.

you went to your local drug store to get the shot, minho coming with you since he's well aware about your fear of needles.

when you got signed in they took you to a small but private back room behind the pharmacy counter.

lee know rubbed your shoulder comfortingly while waiting for the pharmacist to come back with the flu shot.

lee know had hyped you up for the shot, making you feel slightly more confident about getting this shot, you feel like you can do it.

the pharmacist came back into the room with a needle in his hand, making your stomach drop.

lee know grabbed your hand and squeezed it tightly as he sensed your discomfort.

the pharmacist started talking about how the flu shot is a ten second shot while most shots were three seconds so the needle was going to be in my arm for longer than you expect.

this information makes your stomach drop further and you can feel all the confidence you once had disappear.

lee know told you to take deep breaths and squeeze his hand.

you squeeze your eyes shut and lee know’s hand tightly while waiting for the needle to pierce your skin.

the shot burned slightly and definitely felt longer than ten seconds.

a couple tears fell from your tightly squeezed eyes as you felt the needle being pulled out and the pharmacist put a bandaid on your barely-bleeding wound.

you cried a little more in the car on the way home but you were happy you were able to sit through the shot.

while you were crying, lee know kept telling you how proud he was.

“you did amazing, kitten”

changbin:

getting an iv put in-

you had gone to the hospital for a check up but found out that you were very dehydrated.

the doctors at the hospital recommended getting an iv put in so you can immediately get the fluids you needed, you and changbin thinking that was probably the best thing to do as well.

you were already shaking like a leaf when the nurse put the elastic band on your arm, but you started crying the second you saw the needle.

the needle had a plastic tube on it, making you cry harder knowing that was going to be put into your arm.

the nurse found your vein and put the needle closer to your arm.

you cried harder as you felt the needle and plastic tube go into your arm at once.

changbin let you squeeze his hand the entire time, saying soft praises.

the nurse took the needle out and quickly taped the tube that was left in your arm.

changbin continued to praise you, calling you brave and letting you know that the worst part was over.

an iv drip was connected to the plastic tube and now you just had to wait.

within the 30 minutes that it takes for the drip bag to empty, you had calmed down significantly, but you were still very aware of the plastic tube in your vein.

“i'm so proud of you, doll”

hyunjin:

getting a tb test-

you needed to get a tuberculosis test for work.

your work suggested doing a blood test since the results would come quicker but you told them that getting your blood drawn was off the table.

you are familiar with the tb skin test shot so you agreed to that.

hyunjin was in the hospital room with you while you were waiting for the shot.

you didn't need much comforting since you figured that you could handle this one quick shot.

that was until the nurse was warning you that the tuberculin would burn when injected.

the new information made you draw your arm close to your chest, tears start to fill your eyes as you stare at the needle.

hyunjin tried to comfort you and tell you that the burn would only be temporary.

unfortunately, you were now too scared of the pain to take the shot. any ounce of confidence you once had was long gone.

you ended up having to contact your work and ask them for a chest x-ray instead.

“it's okay to be scared, my love”

han:

getting an epidural-

you were currently 20 hours into labor and in the hospital getting prepared to give birth.

the contractions were so painful that you didn't know how you were going to get through the birth itself.

every couple of minutes you squeezed han’s hand so tight that you sore you were breaking his fingers.

that's when the nurse asked if you wanted an epidural.

you were heavily considering it, knowing it would take away your pain, but you had already cried through getting an iv put in.

the thought of getting stuck with another needle, and one as long as the epidural needle, sounded terrifying.

han had told you that you should consider getting the epidural, wanting this process to be easier for you (and his hand) in any way possible.

the nurse had reminded you that you can get the epidural at any time and that you don't have to have it put in right now.

but as another contraction hit you hard, you had agreed to do it now.

the nurse got the epidural needle ready, tears quickly falling down your face when you see the 4 inch needle that would be going into your back.

you squeezed both of han’s hands tightly as the nurse put the needle and catheter into your lower back.

han continued to remind you that your pain would be gone soon.

the nurse distributed a little of the medicine into the catheter and after a couple of minutes you could feel your lower body getting numb.

“do you feel better, baby?”

felix:

getting a tattoo-

you were getting matching tattoos with one of your friends.

you had asked felix to join you so he could comfort you.

the tattoo was a small line work tattoo so it would thankfully be quick, but that didn't really comfort your fear of needles.

the artist had cleaned your skin and put on the stencil.

once you were sitting in the chair you held onto felix’s hand tightly.

you were starting to think if it was too late to back out of the tattoo but your friend was currently getting theirs done so you figured that would be too much of a dick move.

once you heard the buzzing of the tattoo machine you squeezed your eyes shut tightly.

felix talked to you the whole time you were getting your tattoo to help ease your mind.

you squeezed felix's hand tightly whenever the pain got worse, letting a few tears fall in the process.

after only 15 minutes the tattoo was done.

felix wiped away the tears on your face while telling you how good your new tattoo looked.

once the secondskin was put on over your fresh tattoo, felix kissed the skin beside it.

“maybe we should get matching tattoos next, sweetie”

seungmin:

getting your blood drawn-

you had been in and out of the hospital recently doing multiple tests since your health hasn't been the best.

one of the final tests that the doctors could do was to test your blood and you were dreading it.

seungmin had encouraged you to get your blood drawn so you could get properly diagnosed and hopefully improve your health.

after much convincing, you agreed to get your blood tested.

when you got to the hospital, you were taken back and your skin was cleaned.

once the electric band was put onto your upper arm, everything felt a little more real.

the doctor prepped the needle and slowly placed it into your vein.

you squeezed your eyes shut tightly and faced the opposite way as the needle.

every time the doctor told you to squeeze your fist, you just squeezed seungmin’s hand.

seungmin quietly comforted you by rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb.

soon, the doctor was done collecting your blood for testing and bandaging your arm.

you could barely feel your legs with your nerves and how much you were shaking.

seungmin gave you a comforting hug and helped you stand back up.

“that wasn't so bad, right?”

jeongin:

getting a piercing-

you were getting your helix piercing

you are scared of needles and know that a cartilage piercing is going to hurt, but you really wanted it.

you think you can handle a couple minutes of pain in order to have a piercing for life.

jeongin went with you to piercers to get it done so he could comfort you and keep you from backing out.

you waited in the black leather chair while the piercer was sterilized the needle.

when they were ready the piercer told lay on your back and turn your head to the opposite wall, which now made you facing jeongin.

you held jeongin’s hand tightly while staring into his eyes.

jeongin talked you through the piercing since you couldn't see what was happening.

he would tell you when the needle went all the way through all the way to when the jewelry was being put in.

you didn't cry during the piercing since you dissociated through the process.

your eyes welled up with tears slightly when you were handed the hand mirror so you could look at the fresh piercing when it was done.

you could barely focus on how good the jewelry looked when all you could see was the bright red flesh on your ear and blood around the new silver.

jeongin helped you clean the new piercing every night until it was healed.

“it looks so good on you, angel”

[yanderepalace]

Yandere!Invader Zim general headcanons

a/n: no one asked for this but here it is! :-)

Zim had always scoffed at the very idea of love, a foolish human weakness unworthy of his superior Irken intellect, never even considering himself to susceptible to such frivolous distractions.

To him, emotions were nothing but a weakness, a vulnerability for him to exploit for the greater good of the Irken invasion.

Your arrival stirred a dangerous storm within Zim, he masked his discomfort as distain and hatred, attempting to suppress that gnawing feeling in his stomach whenever you were around. A craving to dominate and control surged within him, a dark need he refused to acknowledge.

Zim found himself fixating on every detail of your life, justifying his intrusive surveillance as necessary intel for the invasion. He would follow you home, study your habits, and infiltrate your privacy at every turn. There was something about you, something so intoxicating, that he couldn’t pinpoint but knew he had to possess.

He believed the most effective approach was to engineer a closer connection with you.

Ever since he first landed on Earth, Zim operated in the shadows, people always dismissed his schemes and missions as something rational, feeding his narcissism in isolation. Something he never thought about twice until he saw you do it, shrugging off his achievements as if they were nothing, it seemed you were completely oblivious. Igniting a burning, consuming rage in Zim.

Zim desperately craved your adoration, and the fact that you didn’t seem interested in him irked him. He wanted your recognition, he needed it. It infuriated him that someone like you didn’t submit to his authority and bow down to his undeniable greatness.

Zim’s frustration boiled over one day when he noticed you talking and laughing with a group of classmates, completely oblivious to the elaborate gadget he’d created to capture your attention.

He had spent hours designing a device that emitted a mesmerizing light, convinced no human could ignore it. But there you were, barely even glancing in his direction.

“How dare they ignore the brilliance of ZIM!” he muttered, clenching his fists.

Overtime his attempts became more extravagant, trying to get your attention and recognition. He couldn’t stand the idea of you paying more attention to those horrible stink creatures more than him.

He misinterpreted the smallest gestures as to a sign of your respect and appreciation, all you might do is thank him for helping with the project and he responds with, “See! Even you recognize the greatness of ZIM! Soon, the entire Earth shall follow your example!” He then tries to downplay his excitement, nervously adding, “I mean, it was no big deal...”

Then he decided the best way to understand you better was through close surveillance, observing your daily life, perhaps even employing microscopic cameras to monitor your every move. “Yes, yes, must keep track of the human… for strategic purposes, of course.” he muttered obviously while glued to his monitor.

As another desperate attempt, his gifts became increasingly bizarre and threatening, such as a sharp, glowing crystal that hummed faintly. “Human crystals for… decoration! Humans love shiny objects, right?” he asked anxiously awaiting your approval. However, rejection sent him into unpredictable fits of rage. “Why didn’t you appreciate my gift?!” he yelled, then softened, “I… I only wanted to make you happy, my precious human pet. Don’t you see?” His eyes gleamed with a sinister light, his tone both menacing and pleading.

Despite Zim’s manipulative antics, there were times he couldn’t quite hide his true feelings. Whenever you were around, he struggled to maintain his composure, his eyes darting nervously as he analyzed your every reaction.

Deep down, beneath his evil invader exterior, he wrestled with the unfamiliar feeling you unleashed inside him. The scary tightness in his chest whenever he watched you without your knowledge, the empty pit in his stomach when you paid attention to someone else. It was a battle between his need for absolute control and his growing infatuation with you. His mind became a prison, each thought of you a chain binding him tighter to his desires.

As Zim’s obsession with you consumed him, he found himself dwelling on thoughts of you at odd hours. Every interaction, every fleeting glance exchanged, became subject to his obsessive analysis. His focus on the invasion began to waver as thoughts of you occupied more and more of his mind. He couldn’t shake the feeling that understanding you held the key to something greater than conquest, something he couldn’t quite define but felt compelled to pursue relentlessly.

[kechiwrites]

I need more babydaddy!ghost🙏🏾😫

ask and ye shall receive.

toxic baby daddy!ghost x reader continued

wc: 1.4k

cw: afab!reader but no gendered terms, angst, hurt/comfort, a lil bit of hope, no use of y/n ever, mdni.

find pt. 1 here

“Did you have fun, Boo Bear?” Your son giggles as he’s passed from his father’s hold into yours, his cherubic face and hands are sticky with god knows what but you barely notice when he rubs them over your skin. Sticky kinda comes with the territory. When he's securely in your arms, you press a kiss to the crown of his head, breathing in deep the smell of fried food and other people and baby beneath it all. These days you're rarely apart, your stomach turning uncomfortably when he's out of your sight, heart racing at the idea of what could happen with him out of your reach, your protection. But you'd promised Ghost you'd try.

So you're trying.

“Mhm!” Tommy bobs his head up and down enthusiastically, and begins recounting the dramatic highs and lows of his trip out with his “new dad”. The title makes Ghost wince, a small twitch he just can’t hide from someone who’d seen everything he had been, could be. A gesture that the person who sat with his nightmares, his secrets, his bouts with a cold, his backaches, his survivor’s guilt, wouldn’t miss. And a not-so-small part of you lavishes in his discomfort. A part of you thinks with so much vitriol; ‘This is what you deserve. You deserve your son being a stranger to you.’ You take the time to catalogue your ex. He looks so bizarre here. In your home, where he used to be so welcome, his wide frame crowded into your small kitchen where you smiled and kissed and teased when things were simple, when he hadn’t broken the two of you. His shoulders are hiked up around his ears, clearly on the defensive, waiting for you to drop the bomb that this was a one time thing, That somehow he’d gone and fucked it all up again and you were going to make sure he never saw a hair on Tommy’s sweet head again.

And you could.

And you want to.

With all the energy only a four year old could have, Tommy finishes his story with a flourish neither of you are prepared for; “Is daddy gonna come live with us, now?” A different kind of bomb drops in your kitchen, exploding with no sound but so much heat and pain in both of your faces, ricocheting off mismatched plates and lightly cracked mugs and refrigerator paintings with two figures and not three.

He swings his head back and forth between your faces, baby tooth grin wide and unbothered, uncaring in a way only a child could be. Expectant. Waiting.

“Thomas, why don’t you show us how fast you can get in your jammies for bed, huh?” You bend at the waist and let your son’s feet hit the floor, letting his question hang in the air, where it couldn’t hurt him, hurt you.

“Okay!” He’s easy to placate, happy to show Ghost exactly how fast he can be; “Daddy, watch!” His tiny form disappearing down the hall.

“You could have let me answer him.” He murmurs, covering his face with the huge width of his hand and keeping it there. Briefly, you wonder if it’s compulsive. You never noticed it when you were together. The mask was hard to ignore, but now with his face bare, you can see it causes him actual distress, even with you. “So you can pin the answer on me?” You scoff, turning to eyeball the dishes in your sink, there’s only three, remnants from your solitary dinner at home. You wash the dregs of pasta sauce off the ceramic plate, just so you have something to do. Just so you don’t have to look at him. “No, I’m good.”

Your back is suddenly, startlingly warm.

“I’m not trying to turn him against you. Or take him away from you.” He’s pushed himself into your space, like he’s become so good at doing lately, being where you don’t want him. Filling in gaps that have been empty for years, gaps that should’ve stayed empty.

“I don’t think you could.” He places both of his hands over your forearms, squeezing at the flesh of your upper arms, like he’s trying to reconcile that you’re there, that he’s in your home again. That he can touch you. That you let him touch you.

You let him turn you around. You let him take your face in his hands. You let him crowd close and press his lips to your face, your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, your lips. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs into your mouth, pushing his sorrow, his remorse inside you, planting it with his tongue. You kiss him back, because it feels good. It feels good and you deserve something good. You deserve to feel uncomplicated pleasure and a racing heart that only beats faster under the ministrations of heavy hands and a deep, quiet voice, like dark, black gravel in your ear.

“Dad! Come see my trucks!” Tommy's voice rips you out of your reverie, And you press your hand to your mouth, lips tingling in Ghost’s absence. You can’t even begin to articulate how much you missed it, the intimacy, the sensation. You’d insisted months ago there wouldn’t be anymore blurred lines, crossed boundaries. Co-parenting. No more hooking up. Those were the rules. The rules you made. It makes you sick. Disappointed in yourself, because no matter how bad he hurt you, how deep his serrated knife cuts, you want him, still. After everything.

“Go home Ghost. Go wherever, I don't care, just…leave.” Your throat feels like you swallowed glass, you want to scream so badly, it feels like screaming is the only thing that’ll alleviate that tight, dry feeling. “It’s what you’re good at, right?” He looks like he wants to say something, rebut you, argue with you, insist the kiss means something, anything. Instead, he follows your instructions with his regular military precision. He bids your son goodbye, promising to see him soon.

Later, after you’ve tucked Tommy in, after you’ve had time to reprimand yourself, he calls you.

“Did he go down alright?” You’re holding your phone between your cheek and your shoulder, which you hate to do, but having a four year old kind of necessitates both hands being free. You’d been folding little shirts with cartoon dogs and anthropomorphic cars when he'd called you to talk, and honestly, you’re surprised you even answered the phone when you’d just seen him an hour ago.

“It was a battle. Didn’t help that you loaded him up with all the sugar he could handle.” It’s neutral territory, easy to talk about in the wake of what happened, so you cling to it. The local street fair is hardly Disneyland, but it was loud and bright enough to capture your son’s attention while being small enough for Ghost to feel at ease with just sunglasses, a hat, and a hooded sweatshirt.

“I’m no good at saying no to him.” He huffs, and you can hear him settle into bed wherever he is. You assume some motel, with flickering lights and a lax policy on paying cash for rooms.

“It comes with practice.” You don’t say much more than that, but he holds on to it, clutches at it like the life raft it is. The promise of practice, the idea that he’ll get to see his son more, get to see you more.

It’s quiet for a while, you stay on the phone with him, going through your nighttime routine, flicking off all the lights in the house, picking up stray toys before you settle into bed yourself.

“Ghos-”

“Please.” He begs. His voice is so quiet it almost doesn’t register over the phone, you almost think you’ve imagined it until he asks again, insistent, like the soft, miserable apologies he’d kissed into your skin. “Please. I know I pushed too hard. Just for tonight. Just this time. ” The next breath you take is weak, rattling and tired, and your eyes prick with tears that shouldn’t even be there to begin with. He made his choice. He cut you out. And it hurt. It hurt like fourteen hours of labour on your own. Like pushing and breathing and crying out to God to never give you a man to love again.

“Simon. I need to go to bed.” You murmur, voice low and far too intimate. You can hear his inhale shudder into his lungs on the other end. His name doesn’t taste like you thought it would, after all this time. Like the ash and smoke and thick dark blood you’d expected. It does, however, taste a bit like losing. Like the deflated feeling you get in your stomach when you let your anger burn to nothing.

It tastes like giving in.

And it’s not nearly as bad of a taste as you thought.

series masterlist here

hope you all enjoyed! no smut this time, just feels. support city girls, reblog stuff u like.

[miasmaghoul]

Nun forced fem on either SwissDew or Raindrop

yeah sure here

(idk what this is its barely nsfw lmao uhhh warnings for forcedfem, religious fuckery, mention of safewords without use of them, mostly implied corruption kink)

"It suits you."

"Does it?" Rain smooths nervous hands over the front of his habit, flattening imaginary wrinkles. "It feels so..."

"Pious?"

Rain gives a hum - it's not the word he had in mind, but it isn't wrong. Rain adjusts his veil as he takes in his reflection, turning to take in every angle in his floor length mirror.

It's odd how bare he feels considering how little skin he can see. His face and hands stand out beautifully, pale and sharp against rich black wool. That's all the uniform reveals, though. Nothing about this ensemble could be called flattering, and yet Rain can't stop looking. Can't stop tracing the shape of his sleeves and frowning at the one stubborn curl poking out behind his ear. The rosary hanging from his belt clinks when he moves to tuck it away, silver and red beads glinting in the firelight.

"I was going to say severe," Rain murmurs, fingering the inverted silver cross hanging around his neck. "But...I suppose that works too."

He feels the need to speak softly like this, to keep his voice low and his words gentle. He isn't a particularly loud ghoul as it is, at least not often, but something about seeing himself look so...reserved demands it.

Rain licks his lips, and finds the sight of it in the mirror to be borderline obscene.

"And how does it make you feel?"

The words are followed by the creak of a chair and steady footsteps on hardwood, a confident but easy stride, and Rain's heart skips against his ribs. The footsteps stop beside him, in what should be his periphery, but their owner remains hidden by the starched edge of Rain's wimple. He can't make himself turn to look, occupied instead by watching splotches of pink bloom on his cheeks.

"I...I don't know," he admits, and it's the truth. There's an odd stew of feelings swirling around in his skull, a bizarre blend of shame, discomfort and the most blasphemous sort of pride. His fingers tremble as he tugs at the knot binding his belt, a mindless distraction.

"Take your time," flows into his ear, velvety smooth, "but I want an answer."

Rain nods, sighing as he lets his eyes slip shut. Just for a moment. Maybe two.

He really didn't think this would be so hard. He knew it would be different - how could it not be? - but the heaviness in his gut is so much more than he was prepared for. He's been dressed up a thousand ways from Sunday; lingerie, pretty dresses, elegant gowns and the sluttiest costumes Swiss could get his greedy hands on. He's worn makeup and press-ons, learned to walk in the highest heels and had his waist cinched by corsets until he was ready to faint.

It all pales in comparison to the simple garments he wears now.

"...small, I think," Rain practically whispers, once the words find his tongue. It's the closest thing he can think of to describe the tightness in his chest. "It's like..." Rain wrings his hands together, the motion obscured by his oversized sleeves. "It's like I don't belong in this."

"That's because you don't," comes his very amused reply, and a gentle weight settles against his forearm. Rain stares at that elegant hand in the mirror, wide eyes caught on the place skin turns to fitted sleeve. "That's part of the fun," that hand thightens, a rough thumb arching over the inside of his wrist, and that voice feels like a red hot poker when it adds, "Sister."

The word makes him gasp, makes his stomach flip, and Rain wobbles in place. Has to reach out to catch himself on the body beside him, and he earns a soft chuckle in response.

"Easy, easy."

Rain feels the words as much as he hears them, radiating through the palm he's planted in the center of a lightly muscled chest. He shivers when a warm hand rubs over his spine, a familiar motion that has completely different connotations right now.

"You're safe," he's promised, quiet and serious. "I've got you."

Rain nods, takes a deep breath as he pushes himself upright, but he can't make himself open his eyes. He knows what's waiting for him when he does, and some part of him doesn't want to see it. If he sees it, it's real. A fantasy made real - not his own, but one he's been eager to help fulfill for ages now. Ever since the night he wrung this desire out of the ghoul supporting him, had pulled the words from his throat with precise rolls of his hips and a perfectly placed hand on a long throat.

"I've got you," he's assured again, and it's so genuine that Rain can't hold back his whimper.

"Sorry," he huffs, shaking his head. "It's...it's a lot."

A hum answers him, a warm palm cups his cheek, and Rain leans into it easily. Soothed by familiar skin and spiced cologne that settles flayed nerves.

"Rain," he says, and it's so gentle that he almost cracks an eye open. Almost. "We don't have to do this. You know that."

He does. Of course he does. One word and he's out, done, able strip himself of fabric that feels far heavier than it truly is. It would be easy, and there's a first time for everything. The word sits on the tip of his tongue, just behind sharp teeth.

"I know," Rain breathes instead, finally straightening up and crossing his arms over his stomach, "I know."

The hand on his spine remains, grounding, and Rain focuses on the feel of it. Breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth until the tangled mess in his belly unravels, until the pressure in his head subsides. Until he can face the body beside him and brace himself for what he's about to see. One hand fiddles with his rosary, nervous energy poured into a silent prayer he says at every midnight mass.

He can do this.

He can do this.

When Rain opens his eyes, it's as devastating as he thought it would be.

"Oh," he sighs, hot from his scalp to the soles of his feet, and the soft smile it earns him makes Rain's chest hurt.

He doesn't know where to look, too many details for his already frazzled brain to absorb; the shiny tips of polished loafers, a perfectly fitted black cassock, a blood red stole embroidered with goat heads and a sharp collar. Rain's eyes stick there, glued to that simple white square, and every inch of him tingles in a way he can't explain.

"Satanas," he says without really meaning to, and Rain is immediately rewarded with the warmest chuckle.

"Blessed be," Dew replies, and Rain feels more of the tension drain from his shoulders. He tears his eyes from that little white square with great effort and finds the other ghoul's face lined with mirth. His copper eyes sparkle in the glow of the fire, and something about it makes Rain shiver.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, taking in every inch of that handsome face. Dew's pulled his hair back, tied it into a tight knot at the base of his skull, and all it does is make him look more authoritative. "I didn't -"

"Stop," Dew orders, one palm raised, and Rain has never fallen silent so quickly. That one little moment makes something familiar start to bloom at the back of his mind, and suddenly it's just a little easier to deal with the invisible weight on his shoulders. His eyelids feel just a little heavier.

"Sorry," Rain mumbles once more, but it's only out of habit. Dew ignores it, tips his head, and then that warm palm is back on his cheek and Rain has a fleeting thought about what his habit will look like once he's inevitably tenting it.

"Tell me you want this," Dew says, voice even. He strokes Rain's cheekbone with the tip of his thumb, and Rain wishes he would push it between his lips instead. "Tell me you want it," he says again, fingertips tracing the edge of his coif, "or we'll change and -"

"No," Rain interjects, more sudden than even he expects, grabbing at Dew's outstretched arm. The cassock feels so soft, somehow plush and warm against his fingers. "No, I - I do," Rain promises, too flustered to keep his voice from shaking, "for you, I - I want to -"

He's silenced by the pressure of one long finger against his parted lips, by a soft shushing noise, and then Dew's close enough that Rain can feel his warmth. He tilts his head up, gives Rain a hungry look, and Rain can't describe how miniscule it makes him feel.

"You'll tell me if that changes?"

"Yes," Rain promises, breathless, and he nods so urgently it nearly dislodges his wimple. "Yes, I promise."

As soon as the words escape him, as soon as Dew nods his acknowledgement, Rain swears he feels the air shift. That warm hand leaves his face as Dew backs away two steps, head held high. Rain feels unbearably cold in his absence, but he knows Dew will have him hotter than he can handle soon enough.

"Look at yourself," he instructs, nodding towards the mirror. "Tell me what you see."

Rain turns on autopilot. Swivels on his heels until he's facing himself once more, all harsh lines and dark fabric. He straightens his cross, his veil, and wonders how much redder his cheeks will be by the end of this.

"I see..." Rain licks his lips again, but he can't watch it this time. "I see...purity," he supplies at length, the word syrupy thick on his tongue. "I...I see innocence."

Rain wonders if Dew will make him look at himself like this afterwards too. Once he's been used up and drained dry, left woozy and weak and with nothing in him to argue. The thought makes him queasy as much as it makes him throb, and Rain stares at the spot on his habit that he knows his cock is starting swell behind.

"Do you?"

Footsteps again, intentional. Slow. Stalking up behind him, teasing fingers trailing along the edge of his veil just enough to feel. Dew appears in the mirror beside him, and the sight of the two of them together makes Rain's knees weak.

He's starting to get why Dew wanted this.

"Yes," Rain huffs, nodding once. There's a tingle caught in his spine, between his shoulder blades, a shudder he can't quite shake out.

"Yes what?" Dew asks.

"Yes, Father," he replies, a swift exhale, and Dew looks so very pleased at the way he sways.

"Well I've heard otherwise, dear Sister," he lilts, and then he's moving. Stalking slow circles around Rain a fox ready to tear into a particularly fat hen. "In fact," he adds, coming to a stop right in front of Rain. Reaching out to slip two fingers under his chin. Lifting his gaze so all he can see is Dew's neutral expression, wild eyes and that fucking collar. "There's a rumor going around that you're a regular Jezebel." Rain winces, and Dew gives him a falsely sympathetic smile. "A common whore masquerading as a lost little lamb in need of guidance."

"N-no," Rain whispers, giving his head the tiniest shake. "I - I promise, Father," he manages, already starting to get a little fuzzy around the edges. "I'm - I'm pure, I'm -"

Dew shushes him, and then he's gone. Floating away on sure feet and gliding back to his chair. Rain watches the way his cassock billows around his legs, catches glimpses of tight-fitted black slacks beneath it, and when Dew snaps his fingers Rain follows with silent obedience.

Dew looks positively regal in the oversized armchair he's pulled in front of the fireplace. He sits with his back straight and both hands folded on his lap. Rain doesn't think he's ever seen him look so powerful, so commanding of attention, not even on stage.

"Kneel, Sister," Dew commands. "Kneel and confess your sins." He tips his head and Rain's breath catches in his throat. "Kneel," he says, "and let me decide if you deserve forgiveness."

Rain drops so hard the floor shakes.

[therainscene]

I’m obsessed with @wheelersboy’s theory that Mike thinks Will is in love with El. It’s one of those takes that’s so simple, yet so perfectly explains every odd little detail you couldn’t quite account for before, that you know you’re on to a winner.

I always thought it was bizarre that the Willel reunion at NINA was framed in blatant love triangle imagery:

If this was supposed to be yet another reminder that the sad widdle gay boy has fee-fees for his best friend, we’d expect him to be gazing at Mike or otherwise looking conflicted at both of them. But he isn’t. His steady, adoring gaze is for El only. Yes, he loves her, but that love is strictly fraternal, so why the romance symbolism?

Is it straight-bait? This scene comes after his thinly-veiled love confession to Mike (in the same episode, no less), and the Duffers and Noah both made a point of confirming that Will was gay in post-vol.2 interviews, so making the audience think that Will is in love with El clearly wasn’t the intention here.

The Willel romance-coding isn’t for the audience -- it’s for Mike.

We often joke about Mike being crushed that Will didn’t laugh at his vomit green socks, but follow Will’s gaze -- it’s a little hard to see in the still image, but he’s staring at El, checking to see if she’s going to heed his advice. Mike's discomfort isn’t because he’s upset that Will didn’t like his joke, it’s because he doesn’t understand the weird tension between these two and is frustrated that his attempt to lighten the mood didn’t dispel it.

Mike’s smart enough to correctly connect the dots by the time Will starts sobbing in the van though: Will is destroying himself in his efforts to be supportive of the relationship between his best friend and the person he’s in love with.

But heteronormativity and a severe inferiority complex lead him to draw the wrong conclusion -- he thinks he’s the best friend and El is the one Will’s in love with, and that gets confirmed in his mind when he catches them making goo-goo eyes at each other at NINA.

And not once, after figuring it out, does he get jealous about it -- he guides El into Will’s arms at NINA, he looks conflicted as hell during the “I love you” monologue as Will hovers over his shoulder -- he just wants them to be happy and is prepared to put his own feelings aside to make it happen, even though it would hurt him terribly to do so. Exactly the same fucking thing Will is doing. It’s utterly farcical. I love this theory so much.

I’d like to springboard off this by taking a look at what it implies about S5.

Between Will’s history with Vecna and the Wonder Twins foreshadowing--

--it’s looking pretty likely that Will and El are going to be spending a significant amount of time together next season.

So we can already see that conditions are perfect for Mike to go through a similar arc as Will did in S4: being a third wheel between his best friend and the person he’s in love with and feeling like he can never truly be more than a third wheel, leading him to sacrifice himself in an effort to support what he thinks they have together.

Mike is very much at risk of doing something stupidly self-harming in S5 -- this is the same kid who jumped off a cliff to protect Dustin’s baby teeth, after all. He feels like he has no value if he isn’t needed by Superman. And there’s a goddamn mind-reading despair demon stalking his friend group.

Of course, it’ll all work out in the end. He’ll be saved at the last moment, the truth will be tearfully revealed, and we’ll finally get that big, dramatic, affirming kiss for our OTP.

You might have noticed that everything I’ve said in this analysis so far is consistent with either Byler or Milevn being endgame.

Many Milevns and GA members don’t just believe that Milevn will triumph over Byler -- they believe there isn’t any conflict between Milevn and Byler in the first place. The lack of evidence that Mike isn’t into boys is meaningless to the heteronormative mindset -- he’s the protagonist and dating a girl, therefore he’s straight, therefore Will’s hopes are dead in the water, therefore Mike has no romantic dilemma to solve.

By introducing a misunderstanding in which Mike imagines that his best friend is competing for his girlfriend -- couching his dilemma in relatable heterosexual terms -- the audience will be forced to accept that Mike is experiencing a distressing internal conflict involving Will and romance that won’t be resolved until the queer truth comes out.

The GA felt bad for Will in S4 because they assumed there was nothing he could do about it, but they’ll be tearing their hair out with frustration at Mike in S5 -- “you’re wrongly assuming he’s straight, you idiot! Just talk to him and this will all be cleared up!!”

It would be an absolutely genius way of getting the audience to question heteronormativity without them even realizing they’re questioning heteronormativity.

Once Mike’s queerness is revealed, the parallels between his arc and Will’s will suddenly become clear, and the audience will realize that, despite his straight-passing invisibility, Mike was just the other side of the same gay coin Will was on all along.

[Part 2]

[alice-after-dark]

Deer Wife AU - Settling In

Inspired by @hiemaldesirae's deer sinner Vox designs (1 | 2) and his Attic-Wife Vox AU

Welp was gonna post this tomorrow but then Ran went and dropped this amazing art and I just couldn't wait.

TW for implications of eating disorders.

It has been nearly a month since Alastor had taken Vox from those sharks and brought him home and things were bizarre to say the least. Alastor hasn't asked anything of him except for him to rest and to actually eat his meals. And he is very stern about Vox finishing his meals. It is difficult, though Alastor's fantastic cooking certainly makes it easier. Unfortunately even that doesn't stop the discomfort from settling in once he has finished. He is certain he's gained weight. He tries not to think about it.

Truthfully, by the reactions of the sharks when Alastor had arrived on the scene, Vox was certain he'd fallen from the frying pan into the fire, but the red deer has been nothing but kind to him. He keeps him warm and fed and protected. When Vox woke up the first night he'd been brought there, Alastor had let him take his first proper bath in weeks and then dressed the wounds he'd received from the beating those sharks had given him for mouthing off. It was truly hard to believe that someone who treated him so tenderly was so feared. But he'd felt the fear in those other Sinners, had heard them curse in fright. They'd called him the Radio Demon.

Vox still wasn't sure what that meant, but he didn't really care.

Vox hasn't left his room since Alastor brought him there and if he was being honest, his desire to was waning rapidly. What did he possibly need anyways? Alastor provided for him, gave him everything he asked for, fed him. The worst part he supposed was the loneliness that would come in between Alastor's visits. Alastor came to him every meal time and they always spent nearly the entire evening together, but frequently during the day Vox was left to his own devices. In life, Vox had always been a social person and every moment spent without Alastor drove home the loneliness.

Before Alastor, his life had been...well...Hell. He'd been holed up in an old warehouse with several other weak Sinners, cold and afraid and hungry, until those loan sharks had raided the place, looking for some asshole who owed them money. Vox had been among those to nearly escape, until he'd been cornered and forced into a deal. Then Alastor had appeared and everything had changed.

Vox could admit he'd been more than a little skeptical during the first couple weeks. He was waiting on bated breath for the other show to drop, for Alastor to reveal some sinister intentions. But it never came. The only thing Alastor seemed to want was for him to remain safe and secure inside his room. He wanted him safe, nothing more.

The sound of the door shutting downstairs makes Vox's ears flick in excitement. Alastor! Alastor is home! He fumbles for his hairbrush. He has about an hour while Alastor cooks dinner and he wants to make sure he's presentable. Should he change? He's still in his nightgown.

That had been something to get used to. Alastor bought him many clothes, from simple turtlenecks, button-ups, and slacks to blouses, skirts, and dresses. The social norms instilled in him from his time above pushed back hard against the idea of him wearing women's clothing. At first he had stuck to the menswear, but as time went on he felt bad leaving all those nice dresses untouched. Alastor had clearly put thought into every piece and somehow seemed to know exactly what styles and colors Vox would like the most. So he'd stuffed down his father's raging in his mind and put on one of the dresses.

And he hadn't instantly caught fire. In fact, it felt...nice. He felt pretty.

He'd been so caught up in the experience that he hadn't noticed Alastor's return home until the man arrived with their dinner. Embarrassment and shame had flooded him, like a child caught doing something naughty...until Alastor told him it looked nice and Vox was all at once reminded that Alastor had been the one to buy him the dress in the first place. Of course he wouldn't think poorly of him dressing like a woman.

He decides on a simple red midi skirt and cream sweater just in time to hear Alastor ascend the stairs and the lock click open.

"Well, you certainly look lovely, darling."

Vox blushes despite himself. "Thank you."

He wants it. He wants Alastor's praise. He wants his attention.

Alastor sets their food on the table and gestures for Vox to join him and any loneliness the blue deer was feeling is gone, scattered to the wind like it was never there. Alastor is once again his entire world and Vox is satisfied with that.