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darlingdaisyfarm · 2 days ago

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⋆｡𖦹 if you wanted to kill Bill, this might do it °⭒˚

somewhere in the woods, you take everything from Bill Cipher by loving Stanford Pines

tags: nsfw, smut, Ford Pines x fem reader, angst, fluff, vaginal & oral sex (m receiving), voyeurism, praise kink, when you hate your man’s toxic ex so much you use his statue as a bed frame, i wrote this to spite Bill Cipher

Ford has never been this weak in his life.

Above, somewhere in the tangled branches, birds chatter and sing, oblivious to what you're doing with your scientist. The leaves rustle from the wind as golden sun drips through the canopy. But down here, where you kneel in the warm dirt, Ford is loosing his smart mind.

It all started with your feigned surprise. “Stanford Pines, tell me, what does my dress have to do with topography?”

“Its not what- It’s-! Oh, hell.”

The woods are golden in the late afternoon light, it’s warm, honeyed summer and everything is moving through syrup.

“Oh, god,” he's already ruined, god bless him. ”this is- this is entirely unnecessary, we could’ve waited until we returned to— ahh—” says the man who got so distracted because he kept catching glimpses of your thighs every time the breeze lifted your dress.

You interrupt him, pressing your tongue to the sensitive tip of his cock and the sound is so pretty, so pathetic, that you moan softly against him just to hear it again.

He's never known a greater pleasure than your hands on him.

His head tilts back, exposing the cut of his throat, the sharp bob of his adam’s apple. Such a mess already, his chest rising too fast beneath his sweater. His six fingers twitch as he wants to grab your hair but doesn’t dare to, always so careful, so controlled.

Meanwhile you keep your hands on his thighs, pressing your nails into the fabric of his pants, and Ford jolts at the sensation, at the impossible warmth of your wet mouth around him. You squeeze him a little tighter, just to see how much he can take.

Ford bucks forward involuntarily, moaning so sweetly, so needy, and oh, god, you feel yourself getting wetter from just the sound of him.

He is shaking and his breath is uneven, back pressed against the rough bark of the tree, he grips at it helplessly, desperately trying to silence himself, but there’s no holding on, no steadying himself. Not when you’re doing this to him.

“S-Sweetheart—” he gasps, cracking on your name. “oh, you— you’re—” he wants to say something smart, something clever, of how you shouldn't be doing this here, but his mind is nothing but white noise and you know it, because when you take him deeper, let him hit the back of your throat just to hear him sob, he actually whimpers.

His hips jerk and he immediately grips the bark harder, forces himself to still. Poor Ford, trying so hard to be good. You press your nails deeper into him, warning him, slowing down to make him squirm, determined to make him louder.

Ford groans, lets his head thump against the tree. You’re torturing him. “dont t-tease. . .”

You’re taking your time, savoring this moment, savoring him, moving in slow, teasing strokes. When you pull off with a sloppy, wet sound and your breath fan over him, pressing a gentle kiss to the flushed tip, Ford looks down at you with question on his flushed face.

“So quiet.” you murmur, nuzzling against his length, feeling the heat of him against your skin, the soft press of his cock against your cheek.

Ford’s gives you an awkward tiny smile. “well, we are in the middle of a forest, darling, i-i can’t exactly—” he blinks, panting, glazed eyes locking onto yours, hoping you'll understand.

No, you dont. “but i want to hear you.” you lick a slow stripe up his length, and Ford bites his knuckles, because that's too sexy for a nerd like him. No one, no fucking one had ever done that to him. He tries to muffle the soft, helpless groan that escapes him, tries to stay quiet by biting at his own skin, fingers.

You stop immediately, frowning up at him.

He gasps in disappointment, blinking down at you, disoriented. “wh- but why did you—?”

You press your cheek to the side of his cock, again, pouting. “i told you, Ford,” look up at him through your lashes. “let me hear you.”

Stanford lets out a breathless mix of a laugh and a groan, tilting his head back against the tree in defeat, taking a deep breath. “darling, you're going to destroy me.” but you know that tone of his, he can't argue back, because he's ready to do anything for his beloved.

Satisfied with your victory, you take him into your mouth, feeling the way his thick cock twitches on your tongue, filling your mouth so perfectly. You work him slow, gripping his base with your free hand.

Ford whimpers, slapping one hand over his mouth before he remembers, remembers your request, remembers that you want to hear him.

He drops his hand, exhales sharply and finally moans. God, he's so beautiful like that, face contorted in pleasure, brows knit together, lips parting, whole body shakes under your touch. You, you, you, all because of you. He’s so damn gorgeous, so vulnerable like this and you can’t help but feel that ache, the deep ache of needing to please him, of wanting to worship him, all of him, your lovely scientist.

“My brilliant girl,” he groans, adoring. “oh, sweetheart, my love, my love, please—“ you hollow your cheeks, taking him deeper, swallowed him whole, greedily, as if he is the last thing you'd ever taste and Ford practically sobs. “feels good, can’t— i can’t! if you keep going, i won’t last.”

“So good for me, Ford,” you praise him, dragging your warm tongue along his length slowly. “so brilliant,” smiling, you wrap your hand around the base, pumping him lazily what makes Ford let out the most pathetic desperate sound imaginable. “so handsome,” and when you reach the sensitive spot just beneath the head, he nearly folds.

“Darling, oh, oh, oh—!” you hum against him, because you can feel the way he’s straining to hold himself back, to keep from just snapping his hips forward and fucking your mouth properly. Ford wants it, needs it, but he’s too embarrassed to admit it, he wants to pull you closer, wants to thrust deeper, but he also wants to let you do whatever you want to him.

He wants to stay like this forever

But Ford is Ford, always so polite, so careful, gentle, even like this. And you love him for it

“You can move,” you murmur sweetly as you take him back into your mouth.

Ford curses, exhales a trembling breath, but his hips roll forward hesitantly. Six fingered hands finally leave the tree, sliding into your hair, unsure, scared to hurt his lovely girl. He holds your head, guiding himself into your warm mouth, finally losing that last shred of restraint.

And you love it, love how helpless and horny he is, completely at your mercy, how his whole body shakes just from the feel of your mouth. His body overriding his poor, struggling self-control.

You relax into it, adjusting to his pace, letting him use your mouth to satisfy himself, letting him set the pace.

“Ohh, you feel. . . you feel so good, taking me so well!” Ford thrusts into your mouth again and he’s moaning, groaning, whimpering your name like it’s holy. Your hands slide down, one still pumping around the base. Then Ford chokes on his next breath when your fingers trace along his balls, tears in the corners of his eyes as he gazes down at you, completely undone.

“Ohh, oh— oh, love, oh, mhmm—” his knees nearly give out, Ford tenses, head tilting back, jaw slack, eyes squeezed shut, his thighs tremble, his stomach tightens and he knows, he knows, he knows that he's right at the edge. “oh, too much! I c-can’t—”

Slickness trails down your own thighs, you're dripping, feeling your own need building just from the taste of him, the sounds of him, the way he whispers your name like a prayer. You hum around him, swirling your tongue, taking him deeper, deeper until he’s hitting the back of your throat again. His fingers tighten in your hair. Good, you think, he's close. First sign of his impending orgasm. You know this man like the back of your hand

“You’re, nghh, you’re so good, so— so brilliant, my brilliant girl” you moan around him, because god, you love it when Ford calls you that. He feels the vibration from your muffled sounds. You look up at him through your lashes, cheeks hollowed around his cock and he absolutely crumbles when you roll his balls between your fingers again, massaging them gently.

Ford's gone, moaning so beautifully loud, choking on your name, shaking violently and then he’s coming hard, his whole body locks up, hips jerking as he holds your head firmly, roots of your hair start to hurt and your jaw aches already, but that's so hot when Ford gets a little bit rough like that.

He's loud, so loud, he can’t hold it back, can’t stop the sounds spilling from his lips, his always so calm voice pitches up, sounding so high and desperate. Ford babbles your name between gasps, begging without even realising as he cums in your mouth.

“Oh, f-fuck, fuck! mhmm, s-sweetheart, I— ohh— fuck, im cumming—“ his voice is hoarse while his body shaking.

And you take it all, let him ride it out as long as your lovely scientist needs, until hes shaking. His glasses are fogged up as sweat rolls down his forehead, his knees nearly buckle.

And above, somewhere high in the trees, a bird trills obliviously into the quiet.

You pull off him with the dirtiest sound ever, swallowing everything he gave you, licking your lips, and Ford watches you do it with glassy, half-lidded eyes. He sags back against the tree, panting like crazy, dazed.

You wipe the corner of your mouth with your thumb, smiling in satisfaction. God, your jaw feels so sore. . . but then your eyes widen a little when he cups your cheek, running his thumb over your swollen lips. His hands are still shaking. Ford looks at you in awe, dumbfounded, totally in love, obsessed, yours.

And that’s when he finally moves.

He grabs you, yanks you up, presses you against the tree. He’s kissing you instantly, tasting himself on your lips, moaning into your mouth while trembling hands hike up your dress. He slips his hand into your panties, feeling the evidence of your arousal, running slow circles over your swollen clit.

Ford groans, presses you tighter against the tree, and this time, he won’t stop until he’s completely buried inside you.

“Right now. I need you, right now.” his fingers tighten in the fabric of your dress, bunching it higher, exposing you completely. Turning you to face the tree, Ford lines himself up, running the head of his cock slowly through your soft folds, memorizing every reaction.

Your summer dress is hiked up around your waist, panties dangling at your ankles, and Ford is right behind you as he desperately adjusts himself between your legs, the thick head of him nudging against your entrance.

“Ford, please!” you squirm, pushing back against him desperately, arching into him.

He presses a kiss to your bare shoulder. Ford, your brilliant, nerdy man, so desperate to be inside you and you're nothing but a puddle beneath him. He’s in love with you, so deeply in love and he can’t hide it anymore, not when you’re like this, not when you’re giving him all of you, when you're being so good for him. He’s so turned on by the idea of having you out here, exposed, but he’s also so fucking in awe of you.

“I have you, sweetheart.”

And then he pushes in, as always he does it, so slow, careful and deliberate, feeling how your warmth welcomes him. You suck in a sharp breath, stretching around him, feeling every inch of his throbbing cock. You drop your frehead against the bark.

“Dear god, you feel— you feel so good, sweetheart, s-so warm, so tight, i— i c-can’t believe—” Ford is mumbling, drowning in how you feel. He kisses your shoulder, then the nape of your neck. “you take me so well, oh, sweetheart, i—” his hands rest on your hips, holding you steady. “ohh, ohh, oh— god—”

He sinks in deep, shuddering, burying himself to the hilt, feeling your pussy clenching around him. And for some time, he just stays there.

“Just like that, swee—” he can't even continue, just presses his forehead against your back and groans. You squeeze him, just to hear him choke on his next breath. “p-please, please— i need—”

“Ford, move.” after that, you feel him pulling back before thrusting back in what makes you both moan.

His pace starts slow and measured, but he's still breathing hard against your skin, whispering between ragged gasps. “youre so warm, taking me s-so deep. . . could stay like this forever, i— i swear, i—”

You arch against him, curling your fingers against the bark and he grips your waist tighter. You let out a gasp when he thrusts deeper, your body stretching to accommodate him.

Ford pushes in, pulls out, thrusts back in. Trying to stay in his senses, controlled, reverent. You may not see his face right now, but you're sure he looks beautiful as ever, trying so hard to stay composed but failing miserably as he makes love to you.

“Your pussy feels so good, god, you're so warm,” his hands slide up your waist, over your stomach, gripping, mapping, memorizing. His pace starts to pick up.

You whimper, pressing your hips back against him, and he chokes on a curse.

“Darling, d-do that again, please—”

You do. Ford holds your hips and starts moving faster, deeper.

The world spins.

“Deeper, Ford,” you cry out into the silence of the forest, needing more. “want you deeper.”

He snaps his hips forward roughly, loosing his control and oh oh, oh, oh. Fuck, a sharp, overwhelming pressure—

You gasp, tensing immediately, something feels wrong or maybe you just— Fuck! Ford pushes into you again and that pressure spreads through your body as you feel slight discomfort.

“Ford, too deep, wait. . .”

“I— are you okay? did I hurt you? i didn’t mean to, i got carried away, i—” he immediately adjusts, pulling back enough and stopping all his movements, but you're silent and it scares him. “sweetheart, talk to me, what do you need? do you want to stop?”

You shake your head. “No, no. Just- just go slower.” Ford trusts you so he pulls out and adjusts your pose a little bit, then sinks back in and changes the angle, gentler this time, smoothly, more careful. And fuck, it feels heavenly perfect now.

You giggle when you feel him pressing kisses to your neck, whispering apologies.

“Darling, is that better?”

You only nod eagerly, too breathless to answer.

“I don’t want to hurt you, i just want you to feel good, i just want to- to worship you, to love you.” you know he's honest because of the way his fingers dig into your skin, and you know he’s trying to hold back, he’s so afraid of hurting you, and you love him for it, so much. Ford buries his face into your hair, breathing you in. “oh, i love you, i love you so much.” you moan in response, easing into the pleasure again.

“F-Ford,” you turn your head and give him a passionate kiss, whispering “i love you too.” into his lips, gasping for breath between each word as he thrusts his cock into you.

You push back against him, moving together with him, your body demanding more, your hands gripping the tree even tighter as you take more of him.

“That’s it, baby,” you breathe, “youre fucking me so good.” and everything what surrounds you blurs. All this summer heat, the golden light, the trees, the birds, the leaves, the wind, it all melts away, until there is only him.

That praise means everything for him, the fact that you enjoy it too. Ford fucks you like you’re his religion, needing you like sinners need confession. The trees stand tall around you, the Oregon forest whispering with wind and distant birdsong. But none of it exists. All that exists is Ford behind you, losing himself, his cock is buried inside you, stretching you open, making you feel so full it’s dizzying, consuming your mind.

The contrast between you is dizzying.

You, flushed and breathless, dress hitched around your waist, panties now lost somewhere in the moss. and Ford, fully dressed, coat, the red of his turtleneck, the belt strapped tight across his chest, the dark fabric of his trousers straining as he presses against you.

He’s clothed like a man who’s spent his life preparing for war, layers upon layers, protection stitched into every seam and yet he’s undone by you

“You're still—” you gasp as he thrusts into you, “fully dressed.”

A choked laugh against your throat. “can't help myself,” Ford admits, ”you’re too pretty i couldn't wait.”

His coat brushes against your bare skin, the contrast of fabric and flesh making you shiver.

His boots firmly planted in the earth. Big. Heavy.

Your bare toes curling against moss, slipping against damp forest floor until you step on his boot. You don’t even mean to, just seeking more balance, more stability. But Ford let's you stand like that if it's more comfortable for his lovely girl.

His hands slide down your stomach and he pressed his fingers against your lower belly, grinding into you and you swear you can feel him in your lungs. Your legs start shaking.

“Can you feel it, sweetheart?” Ford's fingers press into your skin. “feel how deep i am inside you?” he moves deeper what makes your legs nearly give out, but Ford grips you tighter and holds you up. “i’ve got you, i’ve got you, sweetheart. You’re safe, let me hold you.”

Your pussy is wet, tight around him, and he can feel every flutter, every clench, every slick, pulsing squeeze. Ford drags his cock out of you what makes your brows knit together and then he thrusts back in, forcing loud gasps from your parted lips.

“Yes, just like that, yes!” tears slips down your cheeks like melted diamonds.

Ford touches you, smoothing over your belly, sliding up to cup your breasts through your dress. His cock is leaking with pre cum and throbbing inside you, the head rubbing against every sensitive sweet spot inside you, dragging against your walls in sensual thrusts.

Your pussy is soaking him whole, dripping down your thighs, making a mess of both of you, and he can feel it, he can hear it because of wet squelching sounds and it’s driving him insane.

“You're dripping, sweetheart, holy moses. Soaking me.” his long fingers delving between your thighs, pressing against your sensitive clit, pleasuring you even more and your velvety walls clench around him tighter as he rubs your little nub. “that's it, love, that's my brilliant girl, so smart, so perfect, so good for me.” he’s thrusting into you deeper now, more harder, but still careful, drinking in every sound you make, studying the science of your pleasure.

He's filling you with warmth as the pressure inside of you builds. You’re so close, so close you can taste it, can feel the climax just within reach. You push back harder against him, wanting it, needing it as you try to match his thrusts while his fingers work magic on your clit.

“I love you.”

“I love you, i love you, i love you!”

And the forest sings, the wind hums, the world tilts. The sun is honeyed, pooling over your skin.

You’re falling, falling, falling. And he’s falling with you.

The air is filled with heat and pine, damp with the scent of sweat and sex.

The forest is watching, breathing, alive.

But nothing else exists except the way he moves inside you.

“Does it feel good, darling?”

“Yes, yes, oh!” his fingers rub soft circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. “Ford, please, don’t stop. . .”

“Won't, i won’t, i could never.”

“Fuck, Ford, im—“ you can't even finish as your thighs start shaking, you’re so close, so close, so fucking close your brain can't work anymore.

“I know, sweetheart, i know, i can feel you, you squeezing me.” his fingers rub your clit harder, his cock fucks into you deeper and you fall apart completely, sobbing and writhing, cumming so hard you swear the whole fucking world disappears. Your pussy throbs, drenches his cock, soaking his thighs, soaking the ground.

Ford thrusts into you through it, desperate, obsessed with how hot you look. “darling, you’re so beautiful like this.” he can't stop pressing kisses to your shoulder, your spine, your neck, his hands smoothing over your stomach, your thighs, soothing you, loving you.

You’re trembling, absolutely ruined by the powerful orgasm your scientist gave you, gasping for air. You want it again, you want him again.

“Please, sweetheart,” his cock throbs inside you, he’s right there too. “please, can i— can i cum inside?”

“Yes, yes, please!”

“Thank you, thank you, sweetheart.” he slams his cock deep one more time and spills inside you, filling you up with his warm seed.

Ford holds you tight in his arms, whispering your name, thanking you, kissing you over and over, breathing hard, sweat damp at his hairline, glasses crooked. His body is so exhausted and overwhelmed.

“Sweetheart,” he's so kiss-drunk. “i think you’ve completely wrecked me.”

You smile softly, too dazed to say something in response, your eyes hazy, body still trembling around him.

But then, involuntarily, you turn your head. Your unfocused gaze falls on. . . oh.

Him.

The statue.

Bill. The golden demonic triangle, locked in stone, frozen in time, trapped in his own cursed monument with his single, etched eye.

Looks creepy, in a way. Like he's watching.

Your breath shudders as your whole body goes still

Ford notices immediately as he calls you by your name, asking what happened. You don’t answer, just tilt your head slightly, staring right back at the statue.

Ford follows your gaze and sees it too.

“. . . Oh.”

You look at Ford and he looks at you. Your fingers trace slow lines down his chest until you whisper.

“Put me against it.”

Ford stares at you, wide-eyed. “you, you want to—”

“Yes.”

“Sweetheart, what if he can—”

“Good.”

Ford sighs and you smile.

“Don’t you want to remind him that you’re mine now?”

And that’s how you end up with your back pressed against the stone surface of Bill’s statue with Ford between your legs. His gaze accidentally falls on the statue and his heart slams against his ribs.

Bill. Watching. Unblinking. Trapped. Helpless.

Bill, who once called him Fordsy, Sixer, IQ.

Bill, who once called him cute when he tried to fight back.

Bill, who once called him his perfect other half.

Bill, who was once the sun in his galaxy.

He's watching, so let him see.

Bill can’t move, can’t speak, can’t scream, but he can see. And he is fucking seething. Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.

THIS?

HIM?

His Fordsy, his fucking Sixer getting ruined by some desperate, pathetic little human? He hates you, hates the way you’re moaning, taking his Sixer’s cock like you fucking belong there, hates the way Ford’s holding you, worshipping you, whispering against your skin.

You are hypersensitive now, your body feels like a live wire, buzzing, overloaded with him. The way Ford's hands move over your skin, trying to understand how someone like him, six-fingered, battered, buried under too many regrets ended up with someone like you, soft and brilliant and wholly, painfully, his.

The coolness of the stone surface of Cipher's statue feels like cruel contrast to the heat between your legs.

Ford makes a quiet whimper before kissing you like he’s dying. Like he’s never known softness before, like he’s never known devotion before, like he’s never been worshiped before.

Your hands wander, relearning the shape of him, the texture of him. The scarred hands, the broad shoulders, the soft expanse of his stomach, the sharp ridges of his hipbones.

You can feel his heartbeat through his cock.

You drag your nails up his spine, feeling the way his whole body twitches, responds, obeys.

His brain is short-circuiting because he’s never had sex like this, he’s never been touched like this, he’s never been wanted like this.

“I should stop,” the scientist between your legs says. “i should sweetheart, this is madness.”

But he doesn’t move away, doesn’t pull out, doesn’t stop. Because he can’t. Or maybe because he doesn’t want to. Could it be both?

Bill remembers when it was him who could make Ford tremble, when it was his words, his touch, his power that made Sixer gasp. When it was him who was the center of Ford’s universe.

And now Ford is gripping your thighs, burying his face in your neck, whimpering into your skin.

Bill is fucking livid, watching HIS Sixer trembling, gasping, clinging to you like you are his entire existence. Watching Ford ruin himself for you. Watching Ford let himself be loved. Watching Ford beg to be yours.

And Bill can’t do a fucking thing about it.

Ford is losing his mind because it can't be real, too much, too good, too intense.

Bill hates the way Ford’s fingers slide into your mouth, pressing against your tongue, letting you suck, letting you worship his extra one.

“Good girl,” his Sixer says, watching the way your lips close around his digits as your tongue flicks against the calloused pads, your moan vibrate straight into his palm.

Bill remembers the first time Ford ever held out this hand to him.

"I was born strange. I am attracted to the strange. And the strange has always been attracted to me." Ford’s brilliance was always his curse.

Bill had taken his hand. And never let go.

Until now, until you.

His sixer, his brilliant, stubborn, impossible Sixer reduced to this? To a whimpering mess, buried deep in some lovesick human.

Bill wants to claw his way out of this stone. wants to take back what’s his. Bill would laugh if he could, would tear you away from him and remind Sixer exactly who he belongs to.

This is hell, no, this is worse than hell.

He was a god, infinite. And now he's a fucking rock, a statue, a prisoner, a powerless, speechless, helpless observer to. . . to what? to this shit?

“You’re mine,” you breathe into Ford's lips.

“Yes, yes, yours, I'm yours, always, always, always.”

Ford. His Ford.

No. No, NO, NO.

He is watching Ford give himself away, watching Ford worship you like you hung the fucking stars.

Stanford was his. HIS.

He was supposed to be the only one to drive Ford mad. He was supposed to be the one who made Ford weak, made him beg.

Ford had been so easy back then. So starved for validation, but desperate for knowledge and so beautifully eager to destroy himself in pursuit of something greater.

Bill had owned him.

“You’re mine.”

“Yours, all yours, my love.” Ford’s eyes are unfocused, hes so far gone, for you.

And you know it, Bill can fucking tell because you're looking at him, looking at the statue as you grip Ford tighter, protecting him from Bill.

“Mine.” and Ford, who, in Bill's opinion, has always been an obedient dog, damn nods.

This is a joke. This is an insult. This is a violation.

And yet, it is him that you and Ford are violating, his monument, his remains and his final resting place, his one trace left in this world.

“She knows. She knows what Ford and I were. That’s why she’s doing this, isn’t it? That’s why she’s dragging him down onto the cold stone, letting him touch her, making him forget everything but her. She wants to erase me, wants to make sure that when Ford thinks about what it felt like to kneel before me, to look up at me with awe and fear and longing in those stupid, stupid human eyes, all he will remember instead is this. She wants to overwrite it. Reprogram him. Take what was mine. I hate her. I hate her. I hate her. She is all human frailty, weak, pathetic, replaceable. She is mortal, temporary, fragile, finite. But my Ford brilliant. Ford is infinite. Ford is so much more. And yet, he isn’t even thinking of me, is he? He is looking at her. She has ruined him. He used to beg for me. Now that idiot is worshipping her. Losing himself inside her. Dedicating himself to her like a disciple, a zealot, a man willing to fall to his knees and destroy himself for devotion. That used to be for me. His hands. . . oh dear Euclydia, those hands— how many times did those same hands trace the surface of my pages, searching for truth, for knowledge, for validation? How many times did those fingers clutch at my edges, desperate, reaching for something no human was ever meant to touch. Now those same hands are on her. And I cannot stop it. I cannot do anything. I can only watch as she takes him further and further from me, until there is nothing left. Until the Stanford Pines I knew, the Stanford Pines I built, the Stanford Pines I made, the Stanford Pines I claimed is completely gone. Until I am nothing more than a forgotten scary whisper in his mind. Until I am just a rock in the woods, forced to witness the slow, meticulous erasure of my own existence. My body doesn't have mouth and I cannot even scream.”

Bill doesn’t love Ford. He doesn’t even know what love is. But he knows obsession and he knows hunger, and somewhere in that chaos, Ford became the center of it all.

Bill has never been helpless before, never been forced to endure something without intervention.

And worse, this is Stanford Pines. The only human who ever matched him, challenged him, fascinated him. Ford believed he could outthink a god, Bill knew that mortals only crumble faster under pressure.

Ford isn’t just being fucked. Ford isn’t just desperate and needy, begging for attention. Ford is in love. Being consumed by love, taken in a way that made him forget himself. Forget Bill.

Bill can’t stand it. This is cosmic-level sadism.

”I am a god, a destroyer of worlds. I have seen the rise and fall of civilisations. I have cracked open minds and turned them inside out. I have walked between dimensions and burned the laws of reality into my own design. Now I'm left to rot in this miserable meat-world. And i could have handled that, maybe. Could have tolerated the humiliation, the aching eternity of nothingness, if not for this. If not for Stanford Pines, of all people, of all creatures in the multiverse, of all sentient beings in all realities, here like this. Right in front of me, crying out in reverence for someone else. Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me! He's looking at her like she’s the fucking god in this equation. It’s not just that he’s on his knees for her in the same way he once was for me, it’s that he WANTS this. It's that he’s soft for her and not because he’s lost his mind and scared, not because he’s intoxicated by the thrill of the impossible, not because i have my hands in his brain turning the gears myself. But because he loves her. I should be touching him, i should be inside his head, mind, body. I should be the one pulling those noises out of his throat. This is the worst part. Not the betrayal. Not the humiliation. But the knowledge that he doesn't think about me anymore. Ford Pines is no longer mine, he does not dream of me, he does not scream my name, he does not shudder at my touch, he does not remember what it was like to belong to me, he has forgotten, he has replaced me and there is nothing i can do about it. Not now, not ever.”

I'm going insane.

He’s the smartest idiot I’ve ever met. And trust me, I’ve met a lot of idiots.

DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO BE GOD?

To see everything, to know everything, to hold eternity in your hands like a matchstick? To bend reality, break minds, carve new universes from the ribs of dying ones?

To whisper your name into the black holes of men’s hearts and have them answer you, hungry, desperate, willing?

I do. I did. Hahahahahhahaha! NOW I SEE!

This is what i did to you, isn’t it, Sixer? This is what i made you feel, when i left you alone, when i lied, when i called you a fool, when i told you that you needed me more than i ever needed you.

This is what it felt like, isn’t it? It hurted you?

“You’re the smartest person i’ve ever met.” Ford thought he could tame chaos and Bill thought he could devour genius. The tragedy is they both succeeded.

Sixer was always meant to fall into obsession, but it was supposed to be Bill’s name trembling off his lips, not yours.

Do you even understand what you’re touching?

Do you know what he was before you came along, sinking your little hands into him, sinking your little teeth into his throat, into his fucking soul?

Do you know what he could have been?

My Sixer was never meant to be this small, this weak, this human.

Do you know what i saw in him? POTENTIAL.

He was born wrong, born strange, born too smart for his body, too brilliant for his world. He was never meant to belong.

But i could give him something better. And oh, Sixer, my darling Sixer, my beautiful, tragic, broken Sixer, you knew it, didn’t you? You knew it the moment you met me because the first time you let me in, i felt you shudder. Not in fear, no. In recognition. As if finally, finally, finally you had found something as hungry as you.

“I need you, darling, need you so much, it’s terrifying.” aww, but Fordsy, you always did love things that scared you.

Cipher was the sun in his galaxy, but do you know what happens when a star collapses? It doesn’t just disappear, it becomes a black hole, it pulls everything in, crushes everything under its gravity. It becomes a point of no return.

And you, little parasite, LITTLE THIEF, you think you’ve won? Seriously? You’ve stolen him from me!

Ford builds to understand, but I destroy to prove. He may map the stars, but I decide where they fall

Ford defines matter, but I define meaning, my poor Sixer seeks the truth and i am what breaks it.

He draws the line between genius and madness. I blur it until he can’t find his way back.

I'm still here.

“He promised me knowledge, and I gave him my trust. He took both and left me drowning in questions I can never unask. I let him orbit my thoughts only to find I was a moon bound to a planet that devoured itself. I thought he was a guiding star, but he was a collapsing supernova, destroying everything in his wake and I still couldn’t look away.” torn pages from Ford’s journal say.

Ford will never admit it, but Bill gave him something he never had before, a reason to feel important. It’s not that Ford wants the universe. He just wants to matter in it. And Bill let him think he did.

Ford thought he hated the way Cipher talked, but it’s the silence that terrifies him because he knows he’s still there, waiting.

Bill carved himself into Ford’s life like a parasite, but Ford let him in like a lover.

And it's a mistake he'll never repeat again.

fuck it.

Ford doesn’t know what’s more overwhelming. The way your pussy clenches around him, fluttering, soaking his cock. Or the way you lean back against the cold, unmoving surface of Bill’s statue, lips parted, a wicked little smile curling at the edges.

You reach back, threading your fingers through his damp, silver-streaked hair and kiss him roughly, biting his lips, exploring his mouth with your tongue. You don't notice the way Ford's eyes flicker up to meet the empty, unblinking gaze of the stone triangle looming over you both. Ford’s stomach twists, his pulse stutters. His mind reels

You are on top of him now, your thighs are straddling his hips, knees pressing into the damp moss, hands cradling the sharp lines of his jaw. Ford's free hand grips your ass, squeezes tight, pulls you down harder.

You ruin him, it's too much, the way your pussy swallows him, velvet heat stretching around him, keeping him locked inside you. The way you grab his wrist, pull his hand to your mouth, and slip his fingers past your lips again.

Ford's hair is a mess, just like himself, his face is flushed, drenched in sweat, pupils so wide they swallow the soft brown of his eyes. Half-lidded and glassy, he looks at you, taking you in, drinking you in, your beauty.

Ford pushes the straps of your dress down, letting them slip from your shoulders, exposing your breasts to the golden, dappled light filtering through the canopy above. The sight is so beautiful, watching your breasts bounce as you fuck yourself dumb on his cock. Ford thinks he might never want to leave this moment, this place, this overwhelming, earth-shattering feeling of being inside you, of being part of you, of belonging to you.

“So good, so good,” you whisper, scratching your nails against his shoulders as he stretches you open. “hnngh, Ford, so big, you're so big, Ford, c-can feel you—”

His entire body locks up. “too deep? Sweetheart, do you need me to stop? Do you—”

Your hands fly up, cupping his face. “No, don’t you dare stop.” you sink down again, grinding onto him, taking him even deeper and Ford cries, his body can't process the pleasure of feeling you squeeze around him, taking him so perfectly, so fully

“Love, I—” you roll your hips, rubbing against him just right. “I— oh, god, oh fuck,” he’s always been articulate, always so good with words, so clever, so brilliant, but right now, he’s nothing but wrecked, broken syllables, hoarse moans, desperate gasps.

God, you love him so much.

His head tilts back against the Bill's statue, exposing his throat to you, mouth open, panting, eyes unfocused, completely pussy drunk.

“Baby,” you whisper, sliding your fingers into his hair, yanking him forward, forcing him to look at you. “stay with me.”

His silly gaze snaps to yours, pupils blown wide as he gives you the most genuine fucked out smile.

“Always, always, sweetheart, always.”

"Keep talking, please.”

“Can't,” he gasps. “can't—” he's gripping the swell of your ass, yanking you down, forcing you deeper, forcing you to take every inch of him, and god, he's buried so deep it makes your breath stutter.

Your walls tighten around him and Ford straight-up whimpers. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pressing your forehead against his.

“Where’d all those big words go, hm?”

“You— you’re— ngh, y-you’re ruining me.”

You don't really notice how he slides a hand between your bodies and runs two fingers through the mess where you're stretched around him, rubbing your clit, then brings his fingers to his mouth. His lips close around them, licking the taste of you and he groans like he's been starving.

“You taste like heaven, my love.” Ford hugs you and buries his face in your throat, teeth scraping, lips sucking, marking you, branding you meanwhile his fingers slide back down, slipping between your folds, circling your clit gently and you fucking die from this kind of intimacy. Your whole body tenses.

“F-Ford!” he grips your waist tight, holding you in place and then he thrusts up, deeper, faster and harder, his cock slamming into you so perfectly it makes your vision blur. “Yes,” you sob, “yes, please, harder. I love you, more!”

His cock drags against your inner walls, grazing against every tender spot.

He isn’t just giving you his body, but his soul. And he’s never, ever taking it back. The smartest man in the universe, the man who has solved unfathomable cosmic mysteries, completely undone beneath you.

Your clit throbs as you cry out, digging your nails into his shoulders, holding yourself.

"Please," man beneath you gasps, "please, sweetheart, don't stop—" you ride him faster. You move together like you are the one. Your bodies fit like the phases of the moon, waxing and waning, perfect in every alignment.

The pressure builds and builds until it snaps, and you cry out. The heat coiled tighter and tighter in your belly, your breath coming in short, frantic bursts. Ford's fingers rub over your clit one last time and the oversensitivity makes you jerk and shake.

Ford thrusts up into you, his hands shaking on your waist and then he cums. Your head falls back, lips parted in a silent cry as your pussy grips him tight, milking him. His thrusts slowed as you feel every inch of him pulsing, his cum filling you to the brim you can feel it dripping already.

The world is quiet. The only sound is your breath, the exhausted gasps of two people who just destroyed each other in the best possible way.

Your legs are shaking too much to move, body boneless

Ford presses his forehead to your shoulder,

“Jesus christ.”

You laugh, dazed, punch-drunk, deliriously happy. Your tired. hand slips and you almost touch the statue, or to be exact, Bill's stone hand as it looms just inches away, and Ford’s eyes go wide.

”Don’t!” he shouts, grabbing your wrist.

You freeze. “Wha—”

“It’s a deal, you touch him, you’re making a deal and we’re not doing that. Not ever.” you look at the statue when realization dawns.

Later, when you’re both dressed and leaving the clearing, Ford glances back at the statue with blank expression

“He can’t hurt us,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “not anymore.”

Stanford spent a lifetime chasing knowledge, mysteries, the secrets of the universe.

And now he's realising he should have been chasing you. It’s good that there’s still a lot of time left.

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tododeku-or-bust · 12 hours ago

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How I Keep My Chin Up

Yes, I'm going to speak from the perspective of antiblackness bc that's my hardest, most comprehensive battle, but just try to apply. We gone be alright, y'all!

1. Be Willing to Fight for Something You May Never See

Here's the thing. I am my ancestors' wildest dream. No one could have fathomed I'd be where I am right now. I live in an entirely different world from my grandparents alone!

And yet, since the beginning of the Transatlantic Slave Trade, my ancestors and I have all been fighting the same- however beat down, rebuilt, replenished, repolished and reformed- tenants of white supremacy. It's been 525 years (if we start in 1500). HALF A MILLENNIUM, and we're still fighting WHITE SUPREMACY (there was a whole ass war, even 😭)

Okay. So. It is clear that if we based our willingness and ability to fight on seeing the end game, no one would ever do so!

We have to be willing to say "okay, look, I might not ever see the end of said bigotry, but I have to be willing to fight and survive so that those that come after me have a chance". We always wish our ancestors had done different- we are the ancestors that could be doing different! You are one part of a long war, and that's okay! Doing your part is all that is asked! Which gets into my next point.

2. The Glory is in the Act

You don't have to win the war. You don't even have to win the battle 😅 The glory is in the fight!

And I think that's what makes it a lot easier for me to continue on. Narrow your scope. Do I want to win and overcome these things? Absolutely. It'd be lovely! But I can't allow myself to move based on guaranteed victory. I can't control that. What I can control is my willingness to show up!

Even if all I do is make racism's existence a tad harder today in some way, every single day. To be willing to say "no, actually, this is full of shit and SOMEONE sees that". Do something. You don't lie down and die when shit looks bad. You could at least fight about it 😅 There is dignity in resistance! If nothing else, even as you go down, you know you were right!

Stop letting them take your humanity from you without a fight. You are worth more than that. They want your hope to die bc that means they win. Fuck em 😤 Lift your chin and tighten up, soldier!

#hope

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bitchface24-7 · 3 days ago

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4AM UNCERTAINTY - VIKTOR X READER

URGENT REQUEST for @arlekinos-ink due to their situation ☹️ (anyone can read this obviously but it’s a very specific situation)

synopsis: being chronically ill is exhausting. It makes up a major point in your life, and when something else occurs. An injury, an illness, whatever you can think of, care is postponed due to uncertainty regarding what techniques and medication can be used. You’re 99% sure you have appendicitis, but nothing can be done. At least, not yet. Good thing your partner Viktor is here to comfort you.

warnings: mentions of being chronically ill, appendicitis, frustration at life, feelings of powerlessness, comfort

genre: m/f or m/m

p.s. I’m trying to get through my requests as fast as I can (I’m close to twenty at the moment) but this DM was a bit upsetting, they asked for comfort through my work. I am here to deliver it in their time of frustration. Hope you like it!

You feel so unbelievably frustrated it’s not even funny. You got admitted to the hospital for possible apendicitis and can't get surgery until they decide it is actually apendicitis because of your other health complications.

You’ve been in the hospital for hours, like over half the day. You’re not allowed to drink, eat or go to the bathroom without permission. You’re currently getting most of your fluids through IV and you’re on the forth one so far.

The scream you want to let out is being contained in your chest as you breath deeply, trying to calm yourself. The only thing keeping you sane is Viktor, and how he’s holding your hand and stroking your knuckles with his thumb.

“Oh my love, I know how awful this is. But we need to stay, to fight it out.”

A groan escapes your lips. You don’t want to fight, you want to go home. You want confirmation that you’re having this surgery. Appendicitis can go really bad, really quick; and you’re not getting care because of your other comorbidities.

“I know! I know… but they could at least check me out! Touch my abdomen to see if it's my appendix, make me pee in a cup to rule out a UTI or kidney stones, check blood, or do imaging like an ultrasound or a CT scan. Anything! But no, I'm stuck here in limbo unsure if I’m getting surgery cause I’m an already sick individual. I can’t eat, I can’t drink— I can’t even take a piss on my own!”

Viktor brings the hand he's carasseing up to his lips and kisses your knuckles, “If I could change the system, I would. You know that. But I'm here for you, until the very end.”

Your irritation melts away as you smile at that, oh how did you end up so lucky?

“If I can't do anything, the least I can do is sleep. Mind reading something to me? You know how much I love your voice.” You say coyly, a mischievous look in your eye.

Viktor sighs fondly as he shakes his head, but he'd do anything for you. He scans the room and really only sees magazines. Some are about fashion, some are about cooking, the one that seems the most interesting is National Geographic.

He quickly grabs the magazine and flips it open, clearing his throat, he starts to read.

“Antarctica is, on average, the coldest, driest, and windiest of the continents, and it has the highest average elevation. It is mainly a polar desert, with annual precipitation of over 200 millimetres or 8 inches along the coast. About 70% of the world's freshwater reserves are frozen in Antarctica, which, if melted, would raise global sea levels by almost 60 metres—”

You look at Viktor with overflowing love in your heart. Here you are crabby, upset, and miserable; and he immediately does his best to cheer you up, even if it means reading about Antarctica.

With your mind at ease and your focus shifted, it’s almost as if the pain disappeared. You can feel your eyes fluttering shut as you hone in on Viktor’s voice, how his accent curls around the words and how interesting he makes it sound.

Viktor would be a good narrator for a documentary, or for an audio book you conclude.

Sleep slowly encases you as Viktor reads to you in a calm, quiet voice. You love this man, truly.

How’d you get so lucky?

Here ya go! I hope this little blurb/one shot has made you feel a bit better ❤️

And to anyone else reading this I hope this has comforted you in someway too, love you all xoxo ❤️

(I got the little bit on Antarctica from Wikipedia lol)

#arcane #viktor arcane #arcane imagine #arcane x reader #viktor imagine #viktor x reader #answered asks #(it was actually a dm but you know what I mean)#banners by cafekitsune

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loveandleases · 3 hours ago

Note

ROs reaction to MC dressing slutty for the first time? Doesn't matter if they're going out or just in the privacy of their room 👀😚

I only have two done so far, for some reason my mind really ran with it. (I'll finish the others eventually, but Cam/Ardents are down below)

❤️ Cam - Oh you know he's down bad. (When isn't he?)

"Wow," he says, his eyes so large as he takes you in. He should be wondering why the change, not that he cares, but his curiosity can get the better of him. But Cam's brain, for the most part, is playing catch-up. Like a video stuck on buffering.

He flicks his tongue across his lips, the glint of his piercing catching in the light, and shakes his head. "I don't know what I did to deserve this."

What you think he means to say as a compliment - is actually Cam cursing his luck.

"Are you going somewhere?" he asks as his hands brush over the clutter of your dresser.

"Not tonight. I just wanted to have something to wear for when I go out with Kara and Isaac."

He doesn't say much, but a brief nod is enough to let you know he heard. His lips jutted out into a pout. "Wow, didn't even offer to take me. I feel replaced." You know he's joking, but the slightest crease between his brow almost says otherwise.

"Come on, Cam. You're stuck with me, the faster you accept it the better." You tease, but he doesn't smile. Instead, he walks closer, his hand brushing along your shoulder. His fingers linger for a moment, brushing against your skin as if it's accidental - just enough to make you feel the heat in his touch.

You think it's just a speck of fuzz he's brushing off, but you're wrong. He wants to touch you - just for a moment.

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Red. I've always been yours-" Cam's eyes widen comically large, and his voice trails off. You gasp, your eyes going wide in disbelief. Did he just -?

"Cam!" you exclaim, your heart skipping a beat.

"Uh -" He stumbles over his words, clearly realizing what just slipped out. "I've always been yours to fuck -"

Another loud gasp falls from your lips, eyes wide. Cam panics, his face turning bright red as he tries to save himself. "To fuck with! You know, tease… annoy the hell out of!"

He punches you lightly on the shoulder in his awkwardness - but a bit too hard. "Ow!" you cry out, wincing from the force.

Cam's face flushes even more with embarrassment as he stumbles back. "Shit, sorry," he mutters immediately trying to shift the energy, clearly wishing the ground would swallow him whole.

You blink, your jaw-dropping as the realization hits. "Oh, that’s what you meant," you say, half amused, half incredulous. A small, tiny part of you, one you’re going to ignore for now, feels a little disappointed.

Cam quickly turns toward the door, eager to escape the awkwardness of the situation. Before he leaves, he pauses and glances back at you, his gaze lingering on you for a beat longer than it should.

"Hey, you look hot as hell, by the way. Better take me with you when you wear that."

"Why? Gonna be lonely by yourself?"

Cam shrugs, his voice trailing off as he mutters under his breath, his lips slightly pursed, biting back the awkwardness. "Yeah… and so I can kick the first person's ass who tries to lay a finger on you."

🖤 Ardent - You could feel Ardent's eyes on you before you even turned around. And once you did, you weren't disappointed. You don't always get to see a flush of color in his face - it's fleeting, but damn, does it look good.

He was drinking you in, watching as you finished prepping yourself in the mirror. It was a sight to see, he always said so. Even when you two weren't getting along. Ardent never held back how attractive he thought you were.

"Watch yourself, old man. I would hate for you to get too heated and end up spending the night home alone," you tease, cocking your head with a smug grin, watching as he rolls his eyes.

"Stop pretending like you could even keep up. Or do I need to remind you -"

"Oh, would you look at that we're going to be late." you cut him off, not bothering to look at the clock, but enjoying how easy it is to get under his skin.

You tap a finger to the tip of his nose, letting him think he has the upper hand for just a moment. But before he can pull you closer, you step away with a playful smile. His game of cat and mouse has only just begun, and you're not ready to let him win.

As soon as you walk into the restaurant, the eyes aren't just on you - they're on both of you. And knowing Ardent he's always shooting daggers with his eyes at the attention. He admires the way you look, but you know that jealousy starts to rise in him. One patron is so taken with your outfit that they gawk at you the entire time you're ordering. Ardent leans in close, blocking their view with his body.

"Can you fucking not?" he hisses, his fingers intertwining with yours, a warning glare directed at the stranger.

Ardent's tense, his body like a coiled spring and ready to snap. A combination of you looking too good, and the eyes staring at him. "Come with me," he says, voice rough as he stands and offers you a hand.

"Wh - where to?" You raise a brow, already mourning the foot you'll not get to eat.

"Just follow me," he growls.

You smirk and fall into step behind him, not asking questions. He's not led you astray before, and you doubt he'll start now.

But maybe you should've been more cautious, at least you think, as he pulls you into the coat closet. Without warning, he presses you against the wall and slams his lips against yours, biting your lip in a way that drives you crazy.

"Here, really?" You gasp, as his fingers press into your sides, a comforting weight behind his grip.

"You know I'm yours, right?" Ardent mutters against your skin, his voice dark and gaze heated.

You blink, confused by the softer tone. "Yeah," you whisper, not because you're worried you'll get caught, but because of how his eyes are burning into you. Like you're the most important person in the world.

"And… " he trails off, raising his hand to rest against your neck as he brushes over the pulse there.

"What's the matter?" You taunt, your breath hitching slightly. "Cat got your tongue?"

Ardent's gaze flickers, then hardens, as his fingers tighten slightly on your neck, enough to make you shiver but not as rough as you like him to be. "You're mine," he growls.

Without warning, his other hand grabs your wrist, pinning your arm above your head. His chest pressing against yours. His lips trail down your neck, and he bites down, sucking hard. A groan rumbles from deep in his chest, making your pulse quicken in response.

"So," you tease, your voice breathless as you glance at him, a smirk tugging the corners of your lips. "You like my outfit, then?"

Ardent pulls away just long enough to look you in the eyes, those brown eyes filled with hunger. He grins, the scar on his lip somehow making him look more handsome. "Let's find out when it's on the ground."

💙 G -

💚 Kara -

💛 M -

💜 Isaac -

#love and leases #loveandleases #cam #ardent #cams was originally much more possessive had to tone him down a bit

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ialreadymadeyouapromise · 22 hours ago

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𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐃.

PAIRING: jj maybank x fem!reader WARNINGS: no use of y/n GENRE: fluff SONG INSPIRATION: golden - harry styles WORD COUNT: 889

navigation | inbox | jj maybank masterlist

you’d been talking about getting a tattoo for months.

maybe years at this point. it had always been one of those things.

‘when i have the money.’, ‘when i’m sure about the design,’ ‘when the time’s right.’

every time it came up, he’d tease you relentlessly.

“you? finally committing to a tattoo?” he’d laugh, leaning back on your couch.

“please. you can barely commit to what you want for dinner.”

you’d roll your eyes every time, but the truth was…he wasn’t wrong. you’d had a million ideas, a pinterest board, even a few consultations, but none of it ever felt solid enough to make it permanent. until now.

when you unexpectedly came into some extra cash. a little freelance gig that finally paid off, you’d walked past the tattoo studio you always told him about. the one with the big windows and the friendly artist whose instagram you stalked religiously. this time, you didn’t stop at the window. you went in.

the design had come to you. something about the sun, about warmth, about light and life, it just felt right.

when they cleaned the area and held up a mirror for you, your breath caught. it was more perfect than you imagined, bold and intricate, the swirling lines almost alive against your skin.

“damn,” you whispered, unable to tear your eyes away.

the artist smiled knowingly. “looks good, huh?”

“it’s amazing, thank you!” you said, a grin spreading across your face.

after carefully wrapping it in a thin layer of clear foil, they handed you the aftercare instructions, their tone light but firm. “keep this on for a few hours, then follow the steps i gave you. it’s gonna look even better once it heals.”

you nodded, still staring at your reflection in awe. it was surreal. you’d finally done it.

and you couldn’t wait to show him.

you didn’t tell him right away. no texts, no calls, nothing. not because you were nervous. okay, maybe a little nervous, but because you wanted to see his reaction in person. when you did finally text him to come over.

his reply was typical: be there in ten. getting snacks!!!

when he arrived, he was already talking before you even opened the door.

“i swear, if you dragged me over here to talk about another tattoo you didn’t—” his words died in his throat the moment he saw your face.

you stepped back, letting him in with a small smile tugging at your lips. “what if i told you…i actually went through with it this time?”

he stopped mid step, eyebrows shooting up. “no way.”

you nodded.

“liar.”

“swear to god.”

“prove it.”

you took a breath, your pulse quickening, pulling the hem of your shirt up just enough to reveal the ink. his reaction was instant.

“holy–” he stopped himself, leaning closer, his voice trailing off, huffing out a surprised laugh. “you actually did it.”

“i told you i would,” you said softly, almost whispering.

he didn’t say anything at first, his eyes glued to the tattoo as if he was trying to memorize every line. his fingers twitched at his sides. wanting to reach out to touch you.

“it’s…it’s perfect,” he said finally, his voice a little rough around the edges. “it suits you.”

“yeah?” you couldn’t help but smile.

“yeah,” he said, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. “i mean, i’m still kind of in shock. you actually did it. but–it’s beautiful. you’re beautiful.”

the last part slipped out so naturally, so quietly, that you almost missed it. almost.

your heart stuttered in your chest. “what?”

he blinked, his expression shifting like he hadn’t meant to say it aloud. but then something in him shifted.

“i said you’re beautiful,” he repeated, his voice steadier now. “and i love it. the tattoo. you. all of it.”

you didn’t realise how close he’d gotten until you could feel the warmth coming off of him, the way his hand hovered just inches from your skin. “can i…?”

you nodded, and his fingers brushed against the edge of the tattoo, careful not to press too hard against the healing skin. the touch was so gentle, giving you goosebumps.

“is it bad that i'm kinda obsessed with this,” he murmured, his eyes tracing the design.then his eyes flicked back to yours, something in his expression you’d never seen before.

“i can’t believe you actually did it,” he said again, softer this time.

“you know, you’ve been here for all of it. all the indecision, the doubt…everything. i don’t think i would’ve done it without your overwhelming support.” your words sarcastic as playfully push his shoulder.

“don’t give me too much credit,” he said, though his lips curved into a smile. “this? this was all you.”

maybe it was the way he said it. maybe it was the way he was looking at you. whatever it was, you leaned in, kissing him.

it was soft at first. hesitant, testing, nearly going to pull away but the second his hand cupped your jaw, pulling you closer, the tinge of worry melted away.

when you finally broke apart, his forehead rested against yours, he let out a shaky laugh.

“took you long enough,” he said, his grin lopsided and so very him.

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop smiling.

“shut up.”

reblogs and comments are appreciated ᯓ★

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faerybella219 · 3 days ago

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First night at Gale's Tower

@desertharper 's request

Oh, I just read yours the other night on AO3, great job! Could I possibly get Gal and a female elven sorcerer Tav post-game the night they arrive home to his tower? NSFW/SFW, your choice. I just love post-game interactions for the good endings. :)

Fun fact: I play BG3 on Xbox and I started on my old Microsoft account. For some reason, I got logged out/ got “hacked?” and had to delete my account with 200+ hours… I was at the Netherbrain guys!!! So I haven’t finished the game yet but I also love domestic post-game fics. My Bard R! Durge, Vivienne, (who I have posted on here) is my current run to the finish. In act 3 once again! Anyway, here ya go. It’s like half headcanon half fiction.

It is still a shock to both of your systems that you’re actually alive. You have defeated the netherbrain against all odds- the old-fashioned way. With swords, spells, and sweat.

First, we all know Gale’s need to impress you. I imagine him trying to plan a seamless moving day- maybe casting a protective spell over your furniture/ items while they’re being moved into his tower. I can also see him fretting about his various delicate magical artifacts, which the movers seem to disregard! Much to his surprise, might he add, since his mother had suggested this company! Although he likely skips the movers altogether and has his simulacrums move you two in. Some jobs are better done yourself.

While his simulacrums bring in your boxes/chests of your belongings, they don’t unpack them. He respects your privacy and knows you may be particular about your things.

I can see things happening quickly after his proposal. The day you move in may be the same day you see his tower (haha) in person for the first time- your new home.

You can’t help but be overwhelmed by a feeling similar to deja vu. It’s surreal and sort of familiar. You’ve technically been here before. Gale brought you here through the weave while on the road, and you seem magnetically drawn to the balcony. You remember sitting on this very balcony in the weave. Waterdeep’s ocean glitters before you, and you get lost staring into the soothing waves.

Gale puts his head on the top of yours. His hands rest on the railing on either side of you. He buries his nose in your hair and pulls you close to him from behind. It’s finally happening. It’s finally real. The peace you feel in this moment- hopeful, content, and unbelieving- it’s what makes your journey worth it.

Turning around in his embrace, you hug him too tight and he makes a groan of strain and laughter. His classic old man noises. You could get used to those.

Taking his face in your hands, you see joy brimming in his eyes. The way he looks at you makes your heart swell. Gale Dekarios- the wizard of intentionally limited renown is all yours for years to come.

He will likely insist unpacking can wait, it’s your first night together in your new home.

I have no doubt he will take you on a tour of the place, including special spaces he has saved for you/ your interests. You like to craft/crochet/sew? He has a craft room set up. What is his is yours. He knows you will handle his artifacts with care and if you are a sorcerer he will encourage you to bring yours and combine your collection. He has a section of his library saved for whatever literature you might want to add, and a section of what he recommends for you specifically- available for you to pick up at any time.

Overenthusiastic is an understatement. But he tries to play it lighthearted to not overwhelm you.

You cook dinner together in your new kitchen. You kiss in your new kitchen. He’s not a good dancer but is so overjoyed by you being here with him that he brings you close to sway.

When it’s time for bed you notice he ordered a second nightstand for your side of the bed. In the drawer is something special and thoughtful, whether it's a chocolate you like or a book. Maybe it’s a solvent for some ailment that has been bothering you. He will remind you to put it on every night.

I can see the night being with or without sex. I can picture him lying in bed and staring into your eyes, just treasuring your presence in his bed. There will be a thousand nights in the future for sex. Although, I can see the night needing a physical commemoration as well! It all depends on what your vibe is.

When you wake, you have tender good mornings with sleepy, rasping voices. He pulls you close, onto his chest as he praises the rest of your days together. He cooks you breakfast, and you two spend the rest of your second day unpacking your belongings and creating your shared home.

NSFW BELOW THE CUT

Pure passion and savoring each other. The sex is emotional and slow.

Tonight marks the rest of your lives coexisting and living together. You’re having milestone sex. This is no quickie. This is body worship, treasuring each other’s lives, and pure love and devotion.

You kiss until your lips feel plump, your tongues tangle until you’re wet. Only when you’re squirming does he move south.

Gale uses every kiss as a landmark. He kisses your forehead, cheeks, down your neck- his hands are grasping and caressing anywhere he can reach.

His hold on you is strong. Hands grip your waist as he devours you. He doesn’t want it to end. He teases you until you beg for release, and once you orgasm you can’t stop. He doesn’t let you get away with less than 3 before the night ends.

When he fucks you it's languid and deep. His hard cock drags against your walls in a pull so delicious it's torture. Slow tenderness eventually turns to rapid passion as he gives in to his desires.

You two are moaning and crying out into the night air as he pounds into you. Your grip on him is tight as your mouths and hips move in synch.

You wake up with little marks over your chest, although you never remember him being rough.

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sassy-radio-hazbin-queen · 1 day ago

Text

Ok I am going to talk about something that's been on my mind recently.

Major warning ⚠️ might get deep.

Also ADHD RAMBLING SORRY IN ADVANCE 😔

Regarding Alastor and the Seven year absence. Ok so I see how In some recent posts people say Alastor must feel forgotten by the Hasbin crew, cause When Sir Pentious and Dazzle died they got a portrait and a statue. While Alastor got nothing. And Charlie thought he had died too.

But while that is true I'm surprised no one talks about how Alastor already felt Forgotten long before the fight. I'm talking about when he finally got home after 7 years disappearance.

My boy didn't get a Welcome home,( although he did get one from Carmilla later on)or a " Hey are you ok". Nothing. What does he get. Pushed around, Judged ( though it's quite understandable it's still wrong) and even told that he basically didn't matter. Remember the scene between Carmilla and Alastor. Alastor was basically asking her " Hey while I was gone, Did you at least think about me"?. And Carmilla response was definitely " Eh Not Really, But welcome back in any case".

Sure he looked pissed but if I was in his place I'd feel very hurt. I kinda noticed how everyone treats Alastor as if he is the worst thing in hell. When there so much worse * cough Valentino cough*

From what I understand he only targeted those that hurt others. Maybe Hell was pissed because in a way he was saving other souls. Taking them from their abusive owners. Which is fucked up but it's hell. What do you expect?

I firmly believe Alastor grew up in a abusive household and definitely witnessed his mother getting abused which definitely affected his psyche. Maybe his father killed his mother and after killing his father he vowed no one will ever go through what he went through.

So he targeted awful people and offed them. When he got to hell. I think he felt his work wasn't done yet and now he is in the land of abusers and monsters. Maybe deep down. He was the one SCARED 😨.

Maybe he killed so he could feel safe in a twisted way. He ended up selling his soul cause he was scared. His owner who i headcanon is like Mother Gothel definitely didn't help. She manipulated him into thinking she is keeping him safe. When In reality she was using him for his powers.

I also headcanon that ( now this is going to sound crazy) His owner forces him to dress and act the way he does. She wants to be the only one who can play with her toy. His owner definitely doesn't share. So she will try to make him look in her eyes unappealing. We all know this doesn't work though. As Vox had fallen in love with him.

Now I don't believe Vox ever hurt Alastor and as much as I love stories where he gets 😳 obsessed. I actually would be happy if they become best friends again and hope it was just a giant misunderstanding just like Fizz and Blitz.

Still something happened That hurt Alastor deeply that he now hates anything to do with television. My Headcanon is cause Vox started to spend more time with Valentino and accidentally leaving Alastor in the dark. Alastor enjoyed spending time with Vox. Going dancing at a club, listening to radio shows. Even cuddling in a blanket watching a movie. But I think the main reason he enjoyed Vox's company is cause, His owner couldn't touch him. She couldn't hurt him in any way.

Kinda like how a person wants there friend over so there abuser doesn't hurt them. The abuser won't cause they rather do their evil deed in secret.

In other words Alastor felt safe around Vox and when he started spending time with Valentino and less with him. His owner would hurt him.

But no one knew this cause Alastor always had a smile on his face. Always seemed sure and confident of himself. This is a perfect representation of " You don't know what happens behind closed doors". I think this was a learned habit from childhood too. Maybe after his father abused him or/and his mother he would threaten to kill them if they told or even showed any signs of abuse.

His owner definitely has that power. If she has the power to give him power then she has the power to erase Alastor from existence. I think she threatened his afterlife multiple times.

Anyway eventually Vox and Alastor have a big fight which pissed the owner off. And she took him away for seven years. Personally I am among those that think she TORTURED him during that time.

I think she let him out and told him to watch the princess and make sure no one gets redeemed. She sews a smile on his face so everyone thinks he is happy and fine. Again reference to what I said earlier.

Alastor goes back home and everything has changed. Probably a culture shock to him. He goes to the hotel and had to pretend everything is ok. Maybe he was all touchy feely with everyone cause he wants to feel safe and secure. Like he is finally home and not hallucinating. When he is pushed away he acts like it doesn't matter but I think it does. I think it hurts him deeply but because of the abuse he endured in childhood and his afterlife he puts up a front as a defense mechanism.

As Alastor told Charlie

" Just because you see a Smile, don't think you know what's going on underneath. A smile is a valuable tool my dear. It inspires your friends, Keeps your enemies Guessing and says no matter what comes your way, Your the one in control".

In a roundabout way he was basically calling for help without saying he needs help. Remember he can't tell her or anyone about what he went through. Of course In a way it means he is still a prisoner. His owner can take him away at any time and this definitely scares him. So he will do anything he can to prevent this from happening. Even making a deal with the princess of hell.

Anyway So while after the battle I think he felt Forgotten, I think he already felt that way. Like he doesn't matter and he wants to matter. His owner and father probably told him that he is worth nothing and no one will miss him while he is gone.

Well he was gone twice and NO ONE missed him.

That's very sad when you think about it and I'm surprised no one had brought it up yet.

Once again I apologize for my rambling thank you for reading

#alastor #hazbin hotel #tw abuse

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reverieblondie · 3 days ago

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As someone who will just start tearing up if someone raises their voice at me while they're angry (even if it's not at me), I can't help but wonder how Rolan would react to falling for someone like that.

A/N: Thank you for this request! So I some drabbles similar to this here so if your interested check it out! But I'm always willing to write more for Rolan so I hope you enjoy!

He can't believe you're actually trying to talk to him, the udder nerve after what you caused.

Asking about his family! Rolan feels like he could burst at any moment, you daring to udder Cal and Lias' names.

"They are my responsibility!" He snaps bitterly, his voice rising to a yell.

Rolan then sees a flicker of something change in your expression—true remorse. It's in your eyes; he can see it steadily rising as you stare at each other. Finally, you break, first darting your eyes to the floor.

"I... I am so sorry... I won't rest till they come back." Rolan Catches the tremble in your voice. And there's an aching twist in his chest before he scoffs it off.

"Save it... just... leave me alone...."

Without another word, he hears you step away; Rolan chugs down the last of his drink as the wobble in your voice echoes in his ears.

It's hard to breathe, hard to see, and hell, with every step, it gets harder to even move.

Rolan can feel that not only is he drained of magic, but he's also drained of energy.

Protect them, watch over them, your family too... Those words told to him so long ago are what keep him going forward, holding tight onto his torch in a knuckle-paling grip. He has to find them, he has to... they are all he has left! His family!

As the panic in his chest swells, adrenaline gives him energy back to his limbs. Rolan begins to run through the shadows blindly, his eyes set forward, and he ignores everything around him. That desperation causes his misstep, forcing him to the ground instantly. Sitting up with a hiss, he quickly remembers where he is scrambling for his torch. As soon as he has it back in his grasp, he sees the inky, wet shadow demons slivering at his heels.

Managing to pull some energy, he thunderwaves the creature back before scrambling to his feet. Standing, he sees his surroundings—and out of everything. Rolan's fist tightens as he looks at what he's sure is his fate.

He will fight, but he knows his body will be unrecognizable after this land gets a hold of his corpse. He gritted his teeth... that will probably be best... He doesn't want Cal and Lia seeing him that way. He suddenly thinks of your words, face... your smile at the party.....

Please let her save them and do what he shamefully could not.

Once cornered with nowhere to go, he closes his eyes... It's over... it's done.....

'Rolan!"

The sound of his name forces his eyes to see you, your face one of panic as it's locked on him... Your hands tremble with sparks of fire as the shadows melt before him... You're here… You found him, saved him... always having to be saved...

Rolan grimaces as you run to him, your voice a blur behind his racing thoughts... then when it's all too much, it bursts out of him.

"Damn it all!" he snaps in your face, "Out of all the people, it's you saving me! Can I do nothing!" Rolan throws his hands in his hair, tugging on his hair till it's loosening.

How did you even find me?" Rolan growls again. His eyes meet yours, and the rest of his tantrum dies in his throat.

Tears rush from your eyes over your flushed cheeks, your breath hiccuping as you try to speak, "I-I am... sorry... pl- please don't yell Ro-Rolan... I was so...scared... you were g-gone!"

Rolan's eyes flick from you to your party. He's in shock that you're crying, but they act like this is common! You're supposed to be a hero, but you're crying!

He's making you cry! Instinctively, Rolan reaches for it, but he pauses before he can touch your skin. You're balling, and he's the one who feels helpless.

Rolan sighs a standing breath as he clenches his fists out to his sides. "Please, stop crying." His head hangs lower, and he brings his hands to his face. "Please... I won't yell; just please stop."

His sensitive ears hear you steading and swallowing down your tears. Finally, he peaks back up to your puffy tear-stained face... Rolan's chest aches at the helpless sight of you. With another sigh, he relents to you," Fine... I will go back... I know when I've been bested. Wipe away your tears."

Sniffling and stuttering, you finally speak again. "I will find them."

Rolan looks over you; somehow, despite how you look, he knows you will... "Please do..."

Everyone is in uproar as they reunite. Rolan pushes through the crowd, looking frantic. When he finally sees Cal and Lia, he wraps his arms around them both in the tightest hug he can manage. The moment is a refreshing wave of relief before suddenly he pushes himself back.

"What the hell, you ass! What were you thinking!" He yelled at them, letting all his pent-up emotions free.

"We were kidnapped by crazy cultists!" Lia challenges, of course, and they start to bicker, but Cal is wrapping them before it can get to a fever pitch. All in a hug once more.

"We are all here and safe... that's all that matters." Rolan and Lia stay quiet. He's right. They are safe and together…

"How could we ever thank her..." Lia says as she looks out from the embrace, Rolan looks over to see you smiling at it all. He feels his cheeks redden, and before he knows it, he's marching over to you.

"Hey!" he says a bit louder and harsher than intended. As soon as that reaches you, your eyes water. Rolan pauses with a gulp. Bloody hells, he doesn't want you to cry again! Your eyes are so full of tears, your breaths stuttering and short. The thought alone brings his stomach to knots.

Rolan lets a long sigh go through his nose before his next move. He steps closer and wraps his arms around you tightly. A slight gasp leaves your lips before he feels you rest your head on his chest, holding him back in return. Rolan holds you in his thankful embrace, trying to ignore Cal and Lias whistling.

It's one of the most stressful days he's had since becoming Archmage and the fall of the absolute. The customers, the shop, usually it's all so easy to handle, but today, it feels like a pile of rocks on his shoulders. Rolan just needed a minute of quiet... just a second to breathe…

Then, in a flash, a novice wizard sets off a grease spell in the shop. Rolan stands next to you with a growl in his throat. Before he can yell, though, he looks over at your worried expression... He can't yell... So he does the next best thing.

With a sigh, Rolan holds his arms to you, his sign of, 'Hold me. before I break.' As you hold him, he feels it all start to melt away. His crybaby hero knows exactly how to melt away all his frustrations.

#askreverie #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 rolan #baldurs gate 3 #rolan bg3 #rolan #bg3 fanfiction #rolan x reader #rolan fanfic #rolan nation #rolan x tav #baldurs gate 3 rolan #bg3 fanfic #baldurs gate #baldursgate

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blublurz · 2 days ago

Text

900 words. sonic the hedgehog/gender-neutral reader.

Competitive isn't the word you'd use to describe yourself.

Driven, motivated, obnoxiously ambitious - but never competitive. It's not nearly as strong of a word needed to properly define how you played in gear riding, especially with such a plentiful prize. The number of zeroes following the coins offered was enough to make you feel dizzy.

Maybe, just maybe, that dizzy feeling is what caused the crash in the first place, though that accidental shove from Storm certainly had something to do with it too.

The on-field medic had said it wasn't anything terrible. It was a bad friction burn and it hurt if you moved several of your joints a few degrees in any direction, but nothing was broken so you'd count it as a win in your book.

The damage done was bad enough that the med-tent to the side of the starting line wasn't enough. Visiting an actual doctor took longer than you would have liked, but you were back in your hotel room soon enough. Other riders had stopped by after the race and everything that followed had finally ended late into the night. Some brought teddy bears and flowers while others brought gossip and news, neither of which you particularly cared for given your current condition, but you thanked them all the same.

Stuck on bedrest and forced to scroll through the same five travel channels the television offered, boredom was quick to creep his claws into your shoulders and dig them in viciously. What else could you do? Certainly not look around the city you’ve been dying to visit since finding out it was home to one of the tracks for the prix, that was what.

A groan forces itself out of your throat.

“Knock, knock.”

Already pushing his way inside your room before you can get the motivation to habitually answer “come in,” Sonic pokes his head inside the room with a grin that can only be read as no good. He’s holding one hand behind his back and is careful to not turn around when he steps in and shuts the door behind him. A younger, less-injured you would have welcomed him in excitedly and asked him what kind of havoc he was looking to cause, but now? Your body was beginning to scream as the painkillers wore off and you could only hope that he read the room. Yeah, you were bored, but that didn’t mean you were looking for anything Sonic-levels of exciting.

“A little birdie told me you were looking down,” the blue blur hums as he sits himself on the edge of your bed. Still careful to not show his hand, Sonic’s sure to lean with you when you curiously try to take a peak. “I wanted to see if there was anything I could do to cheer you up.”

One of your brows raises as you put a stop to your losing game of hide-and-seek, lower back flaring up in pain. “My hero. However shall I repay you?” Your tone, though flat and tired, still holds a playful lilt that makes Sonic’s grin grow wider.

“Don’t thank me yet! You haven’t even seen what I got you!”

“I don’t need to,” you’re quick to huff, slumping back into your headboard of mostly pillows. “As long as it gives me something to do without getting up, I’m thankful.”

Sonic lets out something between a scoff and a laugh as he pulls the gift from his back, free hand wiggling its fingers as though to further entice your interest. He leans forward when you take the box from him, crossing his arms over your shins just so he can rest his chin on them.

Catching your hands when you try setting it down on your thighs, Sonic only smiles when you look around the box and at him. “What’re you doing?”

He's barely able to keep his volume contained to anything below an inside voice. “Don't worry about it! Just open it!”

You roll your eyes but do as told, letting him hold it as your hands work at unraveling the surprisingly intricate bow. There's no doubt he went to Amy or Cream for it. He’s much too impatient to spend more than a minute perfecting the coils of the ribbon and the wrapping was too crisply done for him to take the time making sure each corner was perfectly folded.

Carefully picking at the tape, pulling apart the wrapping paper, and lifting the flaps of the box, you let out a quiet sigh at the sight. You're met with a get well soon card, a stuffed animal that looks an awful lot like him, and a couple packs of chocolate.

Finding there's tissue paper packed at the bottom of it after placing each gift to the side, you hum.

“You should totally take it out,” Sonic whispers.

“And if I don't?”

“I’d be suuuper disappointed.”

Your laughs grow louder as you do as told, tossing the tissue to the side just to unveil him beaming ear-to-ear. Of course this was the gift he'd been planning to give you, because what better gift was there from him than him?

Dropping the box to the floor before nudging pillows and bears out of the way to make room, Sonic doesn't hesitate to make himself comfortable in the space against your side. He swipes the remote from where you discarded it on the duvet, swiftly clicking through the channels while you open a pack of sweets.

“Now how about we put something actually good on, yeah?”

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic x reader #sonic the hedgehog x reader

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pricegouge · 1 day ago

Note

how we feel about call of duty kaiju horror?

(I’m watching a Godzilla movie tonight so✨)

-🫀

it's the fact that you knew exactly what you were doing with each keystroke that's killing me here

vibrating at a speed imperceptible to the human eye: i feel pretty normal about it.

okay i'm at a low point mental-health-slash-hope-in-the-world wise rn which means ofc i've been thinking about my sweet baby puppy, godzilla, a lot recently. just something about a larger than life monster of our own making come to visit hell upon us that's rather apt, you know?

so originally i was just gonna ramble about that as a response to this - and how easily you could plug an elite squad of soldiers into that formula, make them the focus as they fight back against the kaiju. do it kinda like shin godzilla, maybe, where it's more a procedural than anything to highlight the incompetence of their orders - the us versus them, versus it; where the pieces are government/military officials, civilians, and of course the kaiju. and then bring it back around to what they have to resort to to actually get the job done. trusting the people most effected by the actions of their overhead, and all that. which i'm super into, but knew wouldn't necessarily have made for a good fic. and then beloved @stellewriites did what she does best and seduced me into writing a little snippet after suggesting the focus be more on the after-effects, like a cloverfield situation.

and she was fucking right, but unfortunately that's not what i ended up doing here because i saw kaiju horror and blanked out a bit writing an action scene lmao.

shelling, active fire, hand to hand combat. nothing prepares you for something like this.

hell, even falling out of a hele hadn't been this bad - hadn't instilled within him this fear, just before drop, all kitted out and ready for action. as if anything on their persons could actually defend them from the screeching behemoth below. offense had been unofficially deemed hopeless. not even the stealth bombers had done any good, their blast zones only succeeding in creating more debris, more shrapnel. more rubble to bury the first wave of casualties.

they'd been assured there wouldn't be any more bombing, not while there were boots on the ground trying to minimize the growing death toll, guiding the frantic packs of terrified civilians looking for refuge.

gaz was fairly sure they had told the first deployment the same thing.

it's a struggle not to assess his team, so he doesn't fight it. takes in their expressions as they hang out the open side of the blackhawk, faces underlit by flame and heat. they look grim, worse than he's ever seen them. but cap's voice is still his standard surly growl over the comms when he tells nik to bring them closer to the… thing.

ghost is the only one brave enough to question him. "price?"

"just want a better look," the captain grumbles, as if the scale of it could even allow for some sort of misunderstanding.

"it's a big ass lizard, cap," gaz supplies, unable to hold his tongue as the creature looms closer, nik's steady hand bringing the hele up and over its head, outside of the range of its relatively short arms. "what more do you need to see?"

price eyes him, chill of his gaze turned gunmetal in the thin light. a warning. "don't know enough about it to be fightin' it."

"are we fightin' it then, cap?" soap, borderline hopeful. like he thinks he can save the world with a well-placed sticky bomb, even after everything he's seen.

"you saw what it did in pari -!"

price cuts him off. "might have to. should know more about it."

like it's got an achilles' heel they'll be able to spot while dropping, their flare lights casting a grim red glow over the mountainous mass of plates and scales. they ring it as best they can - a valiant effort to keep their paracords untangled. from each other, from the mess of wires clinging to the skeleton frames still standing. from it. gaz lucks out, manages to draw its head. his flare light casts eerie shadows on the smoke behind it, jagged cuts of spiny bone that reach like fingers skyward, as if to pluck the circling hele from the air like no more than a noisome fly hanging over head. there's a gradual slope across a heavy brow, its face wide-set and surprisingly flat, as if evolution knew it wouldn't be snuffling around in the dirt for food no matter what hellish recesses of the earth it had crawled out of. he sees the teeth first, blanched and deadly in a mouth that gapes slightly, soft pink tissue glinting with drool in the wan, flickering light. the shape of it seems to shift in the smoke, disorienting in its incomprehensibility. gaz tracks the nose - up, in, across -

the eye rolls, a ring of sclera giving it an unexpected humanity. it's beady, the iris the same dark, muddy sort of gray that blends with the rest of its plating. defensive evolutionary traits. against what, gaz did not want to know. it flickers red and orange in the light. alive, wary. a thick nictitating membrane draws back, reveals a depth of color which can't quite hide the pupil - nor the way it dilates, trained on him.

it ducks his head as he falls, assessing just as much as gaz is. he reaches for his gun, automatic, and the ridge of brow above its eyes twitches, lowers. there's a series of pops, loud enough to hear even above the thunder of air in his ears, and then a light flickers to life in its gullet, electric blue and feeble in its infancy.

debrief hadn't mentioned bioluminescence. he decides he does not want to be the first one to find out what that's about.

tipping himself forward, he propels himself faster. his angle widens, brings him around the creature's side a bit, out of its field of view. he follows along its broad flank, dipping past huge, clawed hands which curl as if in disgust as he passes. he pulls his chute somewhere around its hip, tries to plot his land despite his general lack of visibility. he's just settled on a gap in the buildings up ahead when the air stirs, a quick updraft that rocks him where he hangs, sending smoke swirling as something slices through it, maybe twenty meters above the ground. he keeps his eyes peeled for another jumper, cautious about mixed lines even though he should still be well away from soap's position.

but it's not another jumper. he sees it first in the reflection of a busted window, shatter-proof glass left hanging concave in its frame. light catches in it, a sporadic wisp refracting through the crumple points, pulsing with movement. electric blue.

he casts about for its source, finds it off to his right. it slips through the air like a knife, smooth and deadly enough to have him running through a list possible drone types he may have run afoul of. he comes up short, though he wouldn't be surprised to learn they'd resorted to test tech. last thing he needs, though he doesn't start to seriously worry until another one appears, just slightly larger, moving in sync with the first. they arch out and around to his left just as another flickers to light directly before them. again, slightly larger than the last - though maybe a little bit closer to it as well.

the next one is heralded by a quiet humming, low enough he thinks he's imagining things until his feed starts crackling with static. he pulls his cords so he can face it more fully, and the chain of lights whip away from him, circle back behind the creature with enough force to shift the air again, unexpected draft pulling him up, up.

the beast faces him, turned fully with a deadly kind of silence kyle hadn't expected. its mouth hangs agape, faint blue light leaking from between its teeth, painting the surrounding smoke blue until it looks like xenon breath, just as fatal. the aura seems to build around it, and it takes gaz much too long to realize its being backlit, the strange lights gathering behind it until the smoke all around glows blue and white and it bows, sinks to his level with an open maw. the light in its throat crystallizes into a cold white while building in intensity, lock step with the intimidation display climbing over its shoulders, the massive plates there flickering to life, veined with phosphorescence.

he'd be nowhere in life if he hadn't learned to listen - when needed, at least.

suspended as he is, his options are limited. he yanks at cords that do nothing, the air gone so still in the creature's deadly silence that it won't even let him fall. like a vacuum, just waiting for the collapse.

"fuck. shit," he hisses, panic building.

the thing shakes its head, an audible rumble building alongside the deafening hum of static. gaz pulls his emergency release and feels his stomach fall before he does, tumbling away after it with flailing limbs, unable to even right himself into a controlled dive before he's catching his full weight on his shoulder, the composite hull of a hele groaning under his mass before the world tilts sideways once more, flops him onto his stomach where his cheek grinds into dirt and metal runners.

"flare!" a thick accent calls from over head, and kyle has just enough wits about him to recognize that the thick trail of red crawling along the floor of the hele is coming from him. he draws a knee up, hands swatting uselessly at himself in search of the strap that keeps the flare tied to his ankle, smoke filtering through his mask until he's -

it's hard to tell what happens first, the blinding light or the g-force which crashes into the hele from above - pushes it down even as he stays in place, colliding with the ceiling hard enough to knock the remaining wind out of him. alarms erupt all over the dash, the noise of them blotted out by a stillness in his ears, as if they'd been submerged - an immense pressure against his eardrum which stifles even his own pulse.

until it didn't, sound rushing back in a cacophony of sirens and shrieking metal, the creature's roar only drown out by the dull sound of impact and the sudden build of force that follows, glass shattering as buildings shook and crumbled. nik curses, something in russian. flare smoke builds in the cab but it doesn't even matter, not when the debris outside the windshield is so thick nik can't even see the approaching church until he's almost gone through the belfry. he banks right, hard, and gaz has a panicked moment of free fall as the open door he'd already fallen through twice today rolls to meet him and he slips through it once more, fingers barely even managing to catch on the frame before he's falling again, a two story drop into the blessedly bare church courtyard with a winded huff, vision tunneling as he stares up uncomprehendingly at the streak of light that's pierced the sky, the burning after-image of a gale force he simply has no framework for.

when he wakes up, it's to a world on fire.

if anyone is interested in that kinda post apocalyptic world, lmk. i don't wanna do any sort of series here but kaiju are my lifelong hyperfixation so i'm always happy to ramble about this sort of setting :)

#gouge answers #🫀 anon #woof that divider got eaten worse than normal #ah well

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reignpage · 2 days ago

Note

hello queen reign, lady of the land of angst, hope you are having a wonderful day.

what advice would you give a fic writer who is trying to grow their blog?

hello humble subject, I am not having a wonderful day because I've officially started school again. currently sat in a conflicts of law seminar someone spare me

as for advice, I have a couple

Aesthetics

Very important

The colours/theme/layout conveys who you are as a blog creator

Are you very feminine and sweet? Are you bold, confident and sassy?

It's a way for readers to know if they'll like you

Also they're just nice to look at

They're fun to do, so go crazy and enjoy the process

It's so so so important honestly

Speaking as a reader, I won't read work that doesn't look good aesthetically I'm so shallow like that

Not everyone is like me but enough people are to care about aesthetics

Also, if your work is long, then make sure you cut the page with the 'keep reading' thing (don't know what it's called)

As a reader, I hate hate hate seeing a long ass work that I have to scroll multiple times to get through

It's annoying and a bother

Don't be that person 😭

I think tho Tumblr inserts its own automatically if the work is too long but there have been numerous occasions it hasn't so just to be sure

Clean

This links to aesthetics

But the idea is in your layout, your summary, warnings and in your actual works, try to ensure your grammar and spelling is right to the best of your abilities

This is a problem all blog creators will face throughout their journey so small typos is fine of course, I make them all the time

But if your work is full of typos and they're in your face, that tells to the readers that you a) might not be a very good writer, b) you don't care and c) this will be hard to read

So take care to do due diligence

It's a pain but proofread your work where and when you can

What I do is I write at night, I go to sleep, and in the morning (with a fresh and clear mind/perspective) I go over my work and realise things just don't make sense

Don't just post as soon as you're done, you'll regret it

Come back to it later, even just hours later, because guaranteed there will be mistakes you'll want to fix before someone sees it

Establish yourself

Didn't know how to title this but if you're just beginning, do what most creators do and take requests

It's a great way to bring people over to your blog and engage with you and also show off your writing skills

Once you've shown hey I'm creative and a skilled writer, then people will engage with your works naturally

But if you can't or don't want to do so, then engage with the community, comment on other creators' works, reply to someone else's comments

Make yourself a familiar face

Advertise accurately

By that I mean, in your summaries, make sure you're clear and you're wrapping up your work in a way that sounds like something people would want to engage with

Bring them in, entice them

Tag correctly

If your work is angst and hurt/no comfort, don't tag it with fluff

If your work is smut, don't tag it with fluff

Some people get really worked up over it and I also think it's good practice because some people search for fluff specifically to avoid smut

Don't flash someone essentially

Accessibility

Make sure your navigation is up to date and easily understandable

Think includes your masterlist

Ensure you have one and you add to it as you go

If you care a lot about engagement as opposed to just birthing your works, then remember that Tumblr is an international platform, so use language that's not too complicated or 'pretentious'.

Don't use big words for the sake of sounding smart and poetic, the most important thing is to communicate and if you can do that with something just as impactful but simpler then do so

General advice

Have a navigation

It's important because that'll be the centre of your entire blog

It's where you'll put all your links

It summarises who you are and what you do

And apart from the bio, it's the first thing someone will see when they come on your blog

Have a faq and rules

Establish your rights

You want people to like you but that doesn't mean you have to suffer discomfort or abuse for the sake of it

Establish your boundaries and be firm

If you get a negative or hateful comment/message, there's NO OBLIGATION to reply to it

Run your blog like a dictatorship

If they don't like the way you do things, then they can fuck off

I got more hate when I was first starting out than I do now so I think trolls like to target smaller creators because they know these creators are too young and experienced to know that the things they say are not a reflection of you but rather of the haters

Most importantly

Enjoy yourself.

Write for fun and for yourself as opposed to writing out of obligation

People on here have a way of dehumanising you, they want you to push out content at their whim

Don't cave in

This is not a job, they are not your boss, they are not paying you

There's a lot of positivity but there's negativity here and there, so just be aware and stay strong

#reignpageasks

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anetrazduckwalk · 2 days ago

Text

BE QUIET - SEVIKA

Modern AU

Badly written smut lol

MEN DNI

Sevika and I were in our room getting ready for the club, the gang are going to some club, so were all busy with ourselves. I'm really focusing on me and getting what i need to get done, but Sevika’s huffing and puffing about the littlest of things and Rans' is not here to listen to it. My makeup is done, my outfit is picked out, and i'm doing my hair at the moment when Sevika brings her B.S. in the bathroom. This Bitch..

Sevika starts putting on her eyeliner and shes not even just doing it mad silently, she's slamming down her stuff and side eyeing me like i'm the one that she was mad at.

"Sevika, what the fuck is your problem?" I asked her straight up because this attitude wasn't gonna cut it today, and i was feeling bold today. Instantly regretted that real quick, the glare Sevika sent me through the mirror almost burnt a hole through my soul and i quickly broke eye contact. "I don't know if you’re just stupid or have a death wish, Y/N, say it again real slow this time,"

Well shit, today's the day i die. I looked back up at her through the mirror and saw she was still looking at me, but now ready to snatch me up. My gaze shifted to her actual figure and not just an image of her reflection, taking in every detail about her, I felt bad for snapping. This was my fiancée and i sitting here, yelling, getting frustrated with her, instead of comforting and understanding where shes coming from.

"Im sorry, I didn't meant to snap at you, it's been a rough day." Only thing left to do was apologize when i realized my wrongs.. WRONG. Now she doesn't look like she wants to kill me, instead shes moving closer to me and she pressed me against the bathroom sink. Sevika was about to say something before Lock knocked on the room door, Sevika huffed and looked down at me, "This only just made it ten times worse for you." That scared me a little bit more than I think she intended, Sevika walked out of the bathroom and went to go answer the door, meanwhile I tried to finish my hair while quite literally freaking out over what i had just gotten myself into.

This could've just been a fun lit night and my dumbass is gonna start something, something I cant even really handle because what I look like fighting my fiancé. Lock and Sevika are now in the room talking about outfits and what Silco’s game plane is for the night. Took me about twenty minutes to finishes my hair, walking out of the bathroom, I grabbed my outfit laying on the bed. Lock bald ass not even really paying attention and is busy talking about Deckard, when i turn around to go back and change in the bathroom, Sevika lets her hand linger on my hip and butt for as long as I was close to her.

Sevika POV

Were in the van on our way to the club and Ran is on my right talking to me about how this experience feels for her, Y/N is on my left and for a moment I forgot about how annoyed I was at her because of how good she looked. My baby knows how to dress, if we weren't fighting i would've dressed my babygirl myself. Y/N is like a little doll I can spoil and look at.

She's all quiet to herself and in her phone, I see the long face bitch Thieram staring at her, and I'm trying to figure out if he is looking for a problem. It seems like I keep getting cut off from my thoughts because Ran asked me something about the club and distracted me. I forgot about it Thieram after that but if he still needs that he cant get that.

We pull up to the club and we make it inside. Every body is dancing to the songs and vibing, some top single booming in the speakers, i didn't care for any of the top new music. So i stood of to the side vibing, until I noticed Y/N’s friendly ass made her way by Thieram and Lock, this girl just knows how to get under my skin. Im used to being treated like her god and i'm not going for this today,

"Y/N."

I didn't scream her name, but i did yell it over the music, so she could bring her ass back where she belongs. Y/N quickly turning around and makes her way to my side, immediately slinging her arm around my waist and resting her head on my chest, looking up at me. Her soft eyes melted my heart a little and I couldn't help but play with her hair and scratch her scalp a little. "If you were this cute all the time, I wouldn't have to F*ck you up," Y/N giggled and kissing my cheek, "I try to be, but you're always so mean to me" She whispered in my ear then pulled back and pouted at me, we had only been there for an hour and it seemed like she was drunk.

Y/N POV

Y'all, Im fucked up. Soon as we got there I started taking all these shots and now it's getting harder and harder to resist Sevika. She's talking to me about how she doesn't like being mean to me but i'm not hearing none of it, the liquor got her looking so damn good. When she's talking I think she realized I wasn't listening when i was just staring at her, while biting my lip.

"Sevika.."

I breathily moaned in her ear, becoming briefly unaware of our surroundings, she started to kiss down my neck and behind my ear. Its baddie baddie shot o'clock, but i'm really not trying to hear all that, we move further to the back of the club, while the gang takes shots. "Be quiet for me tonight, mkay?" Sevika said before resuming what we were previously doing.

Sevika POV

I'm behind Y/N as we're making our way up the stairs to our room, as soon as she pushes the door open and i'm in behind her, the door is shut and locked. When i turn back around from locking it, shes standing at the dresser taking off her jewelry. This makes me go and stand behind her, kissing her shoulder as I slide off her outfit with haste. As soon as she's stripped to nothing, my hand snakes down between her thighs and i slip two fingers into her, "Oh wow, they just went right in, how long have you been thinking about this? Little whore all wet for me? hm?" I chuckled out as I wasted no time going faster, even though I waited all night for this, the night took forever to end and Im tired.

My hand grips at Y/N hair and pushes her onto the bed, now bent over the bed, dripping on display just for me.

Y/N POV

I feel her fingers enter me again and start at an intense pace, my mouth cannot control itself and and I start moaning out, forgetting I'm in the house with all of these other people just waiting to start trouble. Sevika’s free hand comes up to my mouth and covers it while never stopping her other hand,"What did i say? Be quiet"

Her voice made me whimper into her hand and try to silence my noises better, the pleasure was getting to much. My hand grabbed onto Sevikas hand and squeezed to let her know i was getting closer, she took the hint and started kissing my sweet spot which quickly sent me over the edge and covering her hand in sticky honey. Sevika licked up her hand and as i thought she was going to get stuff to wind down with, all of a sudden I feel a hard tip pressed against me. Sevika was behind me and before I could ever ask anything, she was pushing in and out of me slowly, my hand went to press against her stomach and push her back "Its okay, im gonna be nice and gentle with you."

My eyes closed and my mouth slightly dropped open in pleasure, sweet sounds coming from my mouth before covered by Sevika hand again, not wanting to get us caught by anybody right next door. Suddenly her speed rapidly increased, causing my eyes so open and Sevikas attempt at muffling the sounds was failing by the second. With her forceful and quick strokes, my hand grasped at the sheets quickly approaching my release, then sevika just pulls out and starts taking it off.

“Girl what? what are you doing?”

She about to pmo. Sevika moved up the bed and lays at the head of the bed and pats in between her legs, I crawl my way up between them and become aware of the numbness in certain parts of my body. She grabs me by my hair and kisses me, the kiss is drunk and sloppy. My hands run down her body and settle on her boobs, squeezing them, Sevika had pressed the dildo between my legs and slowly started pushing it in during the kiss. After it was in there for a while, she started at a quick pace while making sure i dont stop from kissing her. My legs were tightly clasped around her arm as she was pushing it in and out, my mind began to melt and a euphoric feeling rushing over me as I came all over the dildo and her hand.

I was exhausted and my eyes were forcing themselves closed. Sevika had joined me back in bed and laid beside me, hadn't even notice she had went to clean up everything. I cuddle into her and she pulled me closer, "when you learn to be quiet, I can treat you like my princess , alright baby?" She scratched up and down my back lightly and it soon started to lull me to sleep. I didn't really respond to her just acknowledged what she said and passed out.

Dont say I never gave yall nothing lol, bout to go on another 2 year hiatus

#arcane #league of legends #arcane imagines #sevika #sevika arcane #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #wuh luh wuh

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