#with wild running around and doing his thing

[thesacrificialdove]

THE BITCHING PROJECT

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— it's like you were secretly asking for this !! degration kink, rough sex, dubious consent, deflowering, light dumbification, semi-public sex, manipulation ✧ ft.: yandere student council ✧ cast: nerd f!reader

His hand grasps your hair as you choke around his girth. There's tears brimming in your eyes. Anxiety and confusion are washed away by the growing arousal in your stomach—this isn't normal. You've never been treated like this before. He's using your mouth like a ragdoll.

"Fuck," he moans, obsessing over the way your unexperienced tongue lays flat on the underside of his cock. "Such a good fucking bitch. How does it feel with your nose buried in my cock and not some books, huh?"

Nothing prepared you for the way this man is in the dim light: he's unlike his smile like a warm setting sun, hands tender to the brief passing touch, and voice an echo of hope and cheer.

He's fucking your throat like it's his newest assignment. Studiously, he memorises the plump of your lips and the heat in your throat. There's something primal yet meticulous about how he thrusts into your mouth. It's like he's thought this over and over again.

Your hands struggle for grip on his hips; he won't relent in his pace. Dizziness presents as you can't think straight—his cock the only thing that you can think of.

A guttural moan leaves him. "Can't believe you'd fall for some s-stupid shit like this. Now you're all fucking mine—" he pulls out, the head of his cock on your lips—"you like that, huh? Like belonging to me? I'll make you forget about your classes and I'll keep your cunt strapped on my cock instead."

There's a string of saliva that connects his cock to your lips. He plays with it, having fun smearing it all over your chin. The humiliation is tattooed in your brain.

You agreed to meet him because the Dean planned to give you the scholarsip—something you've been working so hard for. It's a lie. How could you have known someone from the student council would lie to you just to get their dick wet?

"Hey, hey," he pulls you up, sitting you on a desk. "What are you thinking about, baby? You're thinking too hard. Come on, I know you feel good."

And you do. Because after all of this, you still got a big fucking crush on him.

"S-stop it, please," you try to say. "I'm... I'm sorry if I did anything wrong but—"

He laughs. "You did nothing wrong. I love you, I do. But you're just to gullible. You have to know how adorable you look when you think everything you want is going to be handed over to you on a plate."

Red paints your face. Your heart churns at his words but he's standing between your legs with his cock wetting the inside of your thighs. Your cunt is being exposed with an easy pull of your panties to the side. The conflict of arousal and humiliation is too much to handle.

"How about this, hm? I'm going to fuck you better and tomorrow, let's see you beg for the Dean's cock to get that scholarship?"

There's contradictions on your tongue. It's taken out of you when he pulls your hips—his cock sliding between your folds and fucking you raw.

"F-fuck!" You cry. It's too big. His cock stretches you more than your fingers ever had, easily breaking the littlest resistence your hymen had. It makes you cry. Your heart hammers against your ears. It pulses in time with your cunt convulsing around him.

He's breathing against your cheeks; with the way he's out of breath, it's like he's enjoying taking your virginity like this. "Holy... fuck—did you never have a guy in here before?" he asks, as if he needs confirmation. "You're so fucking tight. I need you to loosen up for me, babe."

Not a single effort was made to get you to relax. He pulls back and fucks you right in, ignoring your pained little whimpers as it's being overshadowed by your moans. You're conflicted but he's so assured. Though your brain runs wild, your pussy sucks him in and is getting wetter by the second.

"So fucking good," he moans. "Tight fucking slut for me."

"I've never—agh! Never... had—!"

He chuckles as he bruises your hips with his hold. "I can fucking tell, baby. Shit. I can feel your cute little pussy hug my cock so tight. You love it so bad, don't you? I bet you fucking waited to be defiled by a cock this big."

You can barely muster a breath, nonetheless a word to deny him. It’s cruel how he pistons his hips. Your legs are in the air, toes clenching as half of his cock barely breaches inside of you. You’re gripping him with a vice, the pain dulling with the hot moans he breathes through your skin.

“God, that’s it,” his mouth instinctively opens as he spreads your folds open. Your pussy is spread. on the girth, his eyes trained onto where his cock disappears inside of you. You can tell he’s lost himself in the sensation when he has to swallow down his own spit.

He’s moaning, a growl emitting from him when you squeeze him. “Loosen the fuck up!” His hand presses against your stomach, trapping you on the wooden desk. “God, shit. For someone eager to take a cock in you’re so not prepared.”

The new angle just rubs your g-spot. A strangled moan involuntarily leaves you, his response being a dark grin spreading on his face. Knowing now, he continues to rubs up that spot. You want to pull your legs together but it’s tightly locked in his grasp. Toes curling, you tense up as he thrusts faster inside of you.

“S-so…” you gasp, hands gripping the edge of the table as you move with the force of his thrusts. “So fucking—so fucking good, haaah..!”

With each thrust, you lose yourself to the pleasure. Your cunt perfectly welcomes him in, even sucking him inside just to keep it rubbing against those nerves. You don’t remember a time feeling this good. The stretch is almost gone. Broken cries of pleasure are being punched out of you. He’s merciless and chases his own high, yet you’re being dragged along as you feel yourself soak and leak.

“Fuck,” he mutters, “I knew you’d love being fucked by me. I’ve been…. shit! I’ve been seeing you shake your cute little ass since you came. here. Knew you were so desperate to be claimed by me.”

He groans low in his throat. Swiftly, he throws your legs together on one side of his shoulders, fucking his cock deep inside of you. The new angle reaches further, your legs shaking from the intense feeling of being used like a toy for him. Your pleasure is undeniable. If you could see yourself, you would see your wet cunt drooling as your face is molded into a face of intoxication.

You can’t help it anymore. The slow yet deep thrusts spreads tingles from your pussy to the rest of your body. “‘m close…” you mutter, struggling to find diction. “So close—hng!”

“I didn’t hear you, “ he pulls on your hair from the roots, tugging it with enough force to electrocute your nerves there. “I can’t fucking hear you with your pussy gushing all over me.”

Cheeks turning a bright red, you try to cover yourself as he thrusts deep and short for emphasis. You can hear yourself make wet sounds with each movement. His words only make you wetter.

Trying to gather yourself, you take a deep breath with a hand over head your head. “I wanna cum, I need it so bad please… Need to cum on. your cock so b-bad!” You cry, surprised you could even form words when all you can think. about is that hot rod inside of you.

He’s forgiving. “Good fucking girl,” he sighs in relief as he continues his animalistic thrusts. The desk creaks each time and you would be worried for its durability if not for his hand lowering to play with your clit.

“Cum for me, cum for your new owner.”

The cock breaching your once-virgin pussy and the your clit being fondled only ushers you closer and closer to an orgasm. You couldn’t even warn him. With both hands reaching for his shoulders, a moan leaves you so loud you’re so everyone in the hallway could hear you.

You’re shivering. Your body is worn out and his cock pulls out of you—your orgasm flowing out as his own spurts on your face to your neck. He had clumsily aimed at your face, the angle awkward with your body half sat on the table. But the liquid splashed to your a bit of your lips, the taste of his release odd yet so erotic.

“Shit,” he mutters, the relief washing over him. You can see the satisfaction in his face; the slight upward tilt of his smile, the heavy breathing, his eyes examining every part of your body, all of it a testament to his amusement to having just defiled you.

There’s no need to speak. Finally, for the first time, he pushes his lips against yours.

In your years living, you haven’t given away your first kiss. In this moment, he had successfully taken two first times with you. His kiss reflects his previous desire to make his mark in your cunt. Breath hot, he pushes his tongue inside your mouth and is determined to lick every part of it.

You’re weak in his grasp. Every limb is numb and your pussy is still tingling. He’s kissing you how he wants as you simply struggle to breathe correctly. Your head is dizzy. There’s a cloud within your thoughts, simply unable to comprehend anything that is happening.

With a bite to your lower lip, that grounds you back to reality. He laughs into the kiss before placing his lips on your neck.

“So fucking dumb now,” he laughs, “don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll make sure you’ll get a reward for servicing my cock.”

Being his broken-in slut doesn’t seem so bad.

UPDATE ! 📢 @wiltedpoison @elloredef @alureasoley

@ 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐎𝐕𝐄 this story is original and is not allowed to be shared without credits. do not plagiarise, feed to ai, or claim as yours.

[xoxochb]

okay okay hold on hear me out- guitarist percy :0 like.... sitting on his lap while he tunes/fixes his guitar (his hands AHHHHHHH-) and it turns into y'all doing things idk go wild also if ur taking emoji anons can I be 🪐 or 🐾 anon? ty lovely! :D

you can be whichever emoji, I don’t have either of them yet :)

cw: fingering, overstimulation-ish, thigh riding, swearing, percy is mean and teases reader, n this might be the longest smut fic I’ve ever written tbh…

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

you’re pretty sure he’s aware of what he’s doing to you. it’s utterly tantalizing watching percy tune his guitar so deliberately with his calloused fingers, at the mere thought you feel a rush of pooling heat in your core. your arms tighten around his shoulders at this— yet he does nothing to stop his movements with the stupid guitar. It makes you jealous that an inanimate object is receiving more attention than you are, and that he’s handling it with care. you grow father frustrated.

though you don’t say anything in hopes he’ll realize himself. but you’re pretty sure he’s far to oblivious to notice that you’re internally fighting your hormone demons. you shift your position on his lap so one of his thighs rests between your legs, the sudden patting of your own thighs having you realize the wetness of your poor panties. percy adjusts his arm around your waist with your new position, still keeping you close to him while his eyes never leave the instrument.

slowly, you begin to grind your hips, barely, but just enough for you to feel even a tad bit of friction. with your sudden movements, percy at last looks up to you.

“you alright, sweet girl?”

you nod. “‘m fine. continue.”

he knows that’s a lie. for first, your cheeks flush a pink hue and he can feel the progressive ragged rate of your breathing growing faster with every thrust of your hips along his thigh. you watch as his fingers still toy around with the guitar, having your hips move at a faster pace the more you look. you can’t help the soft whimper that escapes your lips at this point. it’s growing unbearable for you to handle.

“perce… can- will you-”

what you’re trying to say is beyond your capacity of understanding at the moment. the words quickly diminish off your tongue as soon as they come out. percy understands what you’re trying to get at, however, laughing and tossing (placing— whatever) his guitar to the side, placing both of his hands now on your waist as you continue grinding along him.

teasingly, he begins pecking along your neck, only adding onto the heat between your thighs. bitch. and you’re sure he’s aware of what he’s doing to you because at this point your intentions are entirely obvious and blatant. you manage to ask him once again to do something. he obliges to your advances and tugs down the zipper of your denim shorts, yet this isn’t enough, you plead for him to hurry his pace.

when he eventually manages to slip your shorts off, his hand instantly finds itself running along your clothed clit— and not to his surprise your lacy panties are drenched.

“gods, you’re soaked.”

“no fucking shit. I wonder why.”

percy laughs again at your clear frustration with him, kissing your jaw now. at a second slow rate he slides those off now too, shoving them into his pocket. you shudder at this. his finger trails from your waist, your hip, and down to your inner thigh, tormenting you with a light brush over your clit.

“percy… please.”

“have patience, sweet girl.”

you dig your nails into his skin in retaliation. he doesn’t react and goes on with his movements. absentmindedly, you whisper quiet begs into his ear until he gives into you and plugs a singular finger into you. you moan from pure pleasure, dipping your head onto his shoulder. your brain grows fuzzy like television static— you practically hear it too.

“perce- fuck- I…”

you’re not entirely sure what you were trying to say. but regardless of this, percy plugs a second finger into you, curling them in a way that makes your tummy twist into knots. you clench around his fingers and in return feel his smile against the skin of your neck. you grind into them as they reach a deeper portion of your insides, trying to reach your climax as you feel it creeping upon you. and percy doesn’t stop for a second, it makes your whole body burn with the sensation of utter pleasure.

your legs nearly give out from the trouble of holding yourself up with them. you’re sure they’ll hurt tomorrow. and not only are your legs a problem, you can’t fucking breathe, concentrate, function properly, do anything in fact, if you’re being completely honest. not until, mocking the trolly problem, like they conductor— in this case percy— had chose to hit you instead of five other people, your orgasm hits you.

you fist a handful of his shirt sleeves into your palms as you ride out the feeling— trying to prolong it as long as you possibly can before his fingers leave you (wanting more, ultimately). panting, you lift your head up to see percy who licks his fingers clean, you let out a quiet moan at the mere idea of that. his hands return, now, back around your waist to steady you as you come down from your high.

“doin’ alright, sweet girl?”

actually, no, you’re entirely wrecked. but it’s better to know that he chose to finger you instead of the damn guitar.

[space-blue]

It's horrible too if Jinx lives!!

OK, I guess we're doing this?

People keep coming at me for my post about Jinx dying being terrible writing and promoting suicide by heroics as a valid way out, and the argument is always "Actually, Jinx is alive because XYZ"

So let me makes myself clear : if Jinx lives, it's also terrible writing!!

Because for all intent and purposes, she DOES DIE! Even if she's alive and fucked off in that blimp, she's still dead to everyone who knew and loved her.

WORSE! Vi will go on thinking for the rest of her life that Jinx died because of her, or at the very least that she couldn't save her.

It's not for no reason that Vi has this scene in the cell with Caitlyn, where she says she always choses wrong. In the scene on the crumbling metal beam, Vi choses not to listen to Jinx!

People got in my comments saying I have no humanity for reproving Vi picking "Vander's corpse" over Jinx. But what we see happen is Jinx telling Vi multiple time to get away and how to get to safety, and Vi completely ignoring her to interact with Vander/WW, only for him to wake up, attack her, and force Jinx to risk her life to save Vi.

Vi made a choice, between more time with Vander and listening to Jinx, and the price paid in the end is Jinx dying.

What if she lived and escaped? Vi doesn't know that! Ekko doesn't know that! Or Sevika! Or anyone!

Thought exercise time: close your eyes and imagine a relative disappearing for your life after a lethal accident you're involved in. You never recover a body and never see them again. How do you feel about it? Mmh?

"Oh but Caitlyn sees the schematics that show a side tunnel…"

Firstly, Caitlyn was nowhere near the event, and she can't frame-by-frame the explosion as we do, so you can hardly claim she's looking for Jinx and not, for example, the arcane gem, or Warwick.

Vander/WW was shown to be entirely impervious to the bullets from Jinx's automatic gun. If anyone has a chance of surviving, it'd be him.

But do you know what? If Jinx is in that blimp, and Caitlyn then tells Vi, "From the schematic, I think your sister could have escaped" (ignoring entirely the fact that Jinx should be cut in half by WW's claws wrapped around her waist), then what would happen???

That would send Vi on a wild goose's chase!! How many years would she spend hunting through Zaun trying to find her sister? How many years until she starts resenting Caitlyn for giving her false hope? How many years until she's forced to accept Jinx isn't anywhere, and so must have died back then, and has to see herself as Jinx's killer all over again??

How is this good for Vi?

And Ekko? He pulled her out of suicide what? 5 times? Had some epic bonding with her painting all over each other, doing self-care and hair dyes and fixing a balloon so they could go on a big attack together.

Maybe he thought he could genuinely finally be close to his world's Powder. Silco just taught him the greatest thing he can do is forgive, and the girl he forgives fakes her death and runs away?

They're barely 20 ffs, Jinx would have plenty of time to struggle on the road to recovery, especially with his help. What if Ekko was ready to be there along the way with her? What about him?

How is it good if Jinx is NOT dead but has NOT told him? What difference does it make to him? She's dead for Ekko, and if he learns later on that she faked her death, all he'll know is that HE wasn't worth her staying. He wasn't even worth telling the truth to!!!

It's fucked! It's not healthy!! Jinx could have her ending removing herself from Zaun without having to fake her death.

But hang on, it gets worse!

Because it's straight up not good writing even on the meta level.

Arcane has millions of viewers. Nobody I know IRL thinks Jinx is alive. Plenty of people in my notes agree she's dead. Do you know what millions of people think? That she is dead!!! Because it's the TEXT OF THE SHOW.

Millions of fans will think Jinx was killed off, because they aren't willing to go frame by frame, extrapolating and make-believing their way into thinking she is alive. Most fans are normal people who aren't terminally online, theorycrafting all day long.

Most normal fans have moved on to watch Dune Prophecy or Sweetpea. And if Jinx comes out alive in another show, the "Somehow Palpatine Jinx returned" memes will abound.

Let's go over the common elements brought forth as arguments.

Jinx uses pink and blue in that bomb, and pink is how she gets away "quick".

No? The bomb she attached to Thieram in season 1 was pink and it was all for glitter and harassment. There is no strong canon association of meaning. If you watch frame by frame, there is a pink "light gleam" over the first blue detonation followed by a very large pink blast and ZERO smoke trails or anything indication someone getting away. Jinx uses the same bomb she used to kill herself very effectively earlier in the show, so we have no indication it wouldn't kill her here too.

We can see the inside of her bomb when she kills herself (with the two liquid vials) and it's the same she uses on Vander/WW and herself.

Besides, even if she used some part of the explosion to get away, WW's claws are around her like this:

She'd be bisected in half.

So some people say that means that Warwick is also alive and let her go! But no. That's make-believe. That's fanon, 100%. The TEXT of the show is that Vander is burnt away (we see the final image of himself burning up) and he has just attacked Vi, trying to kill her. We have no indication he'd want to spare Jinx here.

HOWEVER, he's literally bullet proof, so if there's anything we can conclude is that he's likely to be the one to have made it into a shaft and to safety.

Speaking of shafts: the next argument is that Caitlyn is looking at the tower's schematics to hint that she suspects Jinx lives.

Maybe, but you are reading a character's mind. We see her look at schematics while holding the monkey bomb head, yes, but you don't know what she's thinking, and if the show runners don't make it explicit, then Cait's thoughts about an explosion she hasn't even witnessed aren't worth much. She could think Warwick lived. OR she could think, despite not witnessing the fight, that Jinx lived. But she doesn't KNOW, she doesn't tell us, and so you are INVENTING the thoughts of a character to mean what you want it to mean.

This would be a lot more meaningful if it were Vi investigating this.

There's a blimp going away, it has blue smoke, and then it ends with a Jinx glitch.

No. There is a blimp going away, slowly, without any blue smoke. It's also THE EXACT SAME ONE that opens Season 1 act 1.

Instead of coming towards Piltover, it now is leaving over the sea. This can be fully interpreted as a sign that the hextech era is over. Blimps have to travel the old fashioned way again. It's also going away from Piltover/Zaun, symbolizing future stories taking place there.

Finally, the glitch is 3 frames long and spells "the End". IDK why the fact that it's a little Jinxy means anything to anyone. The end of credits for season 1 was Jinxy as well, and it could simply be about keeping the same visual identity and not a sign of Jinx being alive???

If I wanted to play subtext games, I could say "Wow Jinx writing "the end" would be appropriate if she were dead" and reverse the argument.

Finally, and the thing in most poor taste, IMO.

Jinx kills herself several times in the opening of the episode, and a sad emo song plays over it, with sad fucked up lyrics. Then Ekko comes and pulls her from this…

Only for that EXACT same song to be played while she and Vander/WW fall. They are both crying. Vi is crying and screaming while these lyrics are playing!!

If I could just lay my head down and rest. If there was nothing to fight or protect. Maybe then I could finally be free. Maybe death is like falling asleep. This world is a wasteland where nothing can grow. I used to have strength but I ran out of hope. I know it's my fault that I'm here all alone. This world is a wasteland. Please let me go. Go, go, go. Please let me go.

This is literally singing about suicide. When you say "Maybe death is like falling asleep" over the animation of a character pulling the pin, you are not dealing in subtext or metaphor of any kind.

One of the earlier shots literally has her framed in broken glass among shards that are WARWICK'S MAW. It's like a hint of her death being killed by him, furthering the parallel.

And I think it is in very bad taste to have suicide apologia music playing over characters screaming and bawling (Vi)

while others cry (Jinx and WW)

and a bomb goes off (with no hint of survival),

only for some of y'all to come around acting like Cait glowering at a blueprint and a recuring blimp all means Jinx is alive...

It would be grief porn on the part of the writers. It would mean slamming us in our feelings in a brutal way, in an ugly way, while playing a suicide song, only to turn around and say "Syke! didn't you get that Cait is suspicious about Jinx so it totally means it was all a fakeout?"

I don't want a fake-out at this point!! Why would I?? It's legit worse! Because then it means they couldn't spare 5min of animation time to have her rescued by Ekko and being on the mend with him. Even if she has a scene where she tells him "I need to leave. I can't stay in this city), at least it wouldn't be a cruel joke on the fans and the characters.

This entire ending means that either Jinx was better off dying taking out the mad monster made out of her dad with her (making her the ultimate dad killer, yay), or Jinx was better off removing herself from the equation SO THOROUGHLY that MOST fans believe it, everyone in world believe it, and the show offers no concrete textual clue for it.

It means Jinx didn't deserve/or wasn't able to get better. And so she has to die or do the exact-same-as-dying but kind of more fucked up somehow.

---

ULTIMATELY the message to impressionable viewers who struggle a lot with mental health and identified a lot with Jinx, are being told with soft sad music that yeah maybe dying is like going to sleep and your family should let you go, go, go, and that "leaving everything and everyone behind" is about the same.

It's fucked, and it saddens me that people are so focused on the "she lived" narrative that they miss out the fact that a hint she may be alive doesn't change the messaging.

And it saddens me knowing that if Viktor's arc ended with him being validated in feeling like his human body was "broken" and "inferior" and that his disability made him lesser as a human, people would have pitchforks and torches out.

Jinx's mental illness and struggles in interacting with the world were her disability, and she got fucking killed or wiped off the city incognito for it.

--

P.S: If you're warming up to post hate in comments or tags because you don't like my take and don't know how to politely disagree, please save us both time and block me. I'm open to polite discourse but the next person questioning my humanity over fandom wank will be nuked from orbit with prejudice.

[bubblesgarden]

always you — john b x reader

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summary: you and john b have been friends for years, but when kiara carrera comes along, things become different.

author's note: hi guys ! this is my very first piece of work i've posted here and i really hope you enjoy it ♡ if you did, please consider giving this a like, reblog, or comment ! feel free to give me a follow if you'd like to see more ♡

you were just eight years old when you first met john b. he had scraped knees and an untamed mop of hair, but his smile was infectious— like how the sun shone through your curtains on a summer morning, or when you listened to a song for the first time and would have it on repeat constantly. and before you knew it, you were spending every single day together. the two of you inseparable, running wild, dreaming up adventures, and sharing secrets that you swore would never leave the walls of the chateau.

for years, it was you and him— two kids hand in hand, against the world. at least, it felt that way.

but then kiara carrera came along. she was cool, easy going, and fit into the group so effortlessly that you couldn’t really blame john b for wanting to hang out with her. at first, it didn’t bother you— after all, kie was great. but slowly, you noticed the dynamic start to shift.

the days where it was just you and john b became fewer and farther between. instead of running off to hide up in the treehouse in your backyard for hours, or lay smushed up together on the hammock at the chateau while you stared at the stars to talk about everything and nothing, he was suddenly too busy. too preoccupied. with kiara. 

at first, you tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter. john b was allowed to have other friends. but as days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, the sting of being phased out by your best friend since childhood was too much to ignore.

one night, after another gathering around a fire where you felt like a shadow in your own group; constantly being talked over or ignored completely, you decided you’d had enough.

you didn’t exactly know what you were going to say— there were too many things running through your mind that you were positive it was all going to turn into a bunch of word vomit when you’d eventually face him. or you’d end up freezing. there was no in between unfortunately. 

so when you finally approached the chateau, you found john b sitting on the porch, sipping on a beer as he gazed out at the stars. the glow of the moonlight highlighted the familiar curve of his jaw, and those messy curls you had ruffled a thousand times before.

“can we talk?” you ask, skipping the introductions and small talk. that would just make this worse, you thought. you stepped up onto the creaky wood, arms crossed over your chest, almost in a way to hold yourself together. 

he turned to you, surprised. almost like he had forgotten you existed— surprised to see you here, where you had been day after day, and night after night, during your years of being friends. it wasn’t unusual at all for you to show up unannounced, but right now, with that look on his face, apparently it was unusual. 

“yeah, of course,” he nodded, motioning for you to sit down on the tattered, old couch on the porch. sitting down beside him, you folded your arms around your knees. for a moment, the silence stretched between you, awkwardness and the sound of cicadas filling the void.

“what happened to us?” you broke the silence, voice barely above a whisper but still steady as you turn your head to look at him. he hadn’t changed much all these years— still had that stupid boyish charm that seemed to get him out of trouble, and those same, soft eyes. 

you felt him stiffen besides you, and you almost scoffed. “what do you mean?” he asks, his tone matching yours.

“you know what i mean,” you sigh, the hurt you’d been bottling up spilling into your words. “it used to be you and me. we spent every day together. and then all of a sudden kie came along, and it’s like… i don’t exist anymore.”

his brows furrowed, and you saw the guilt flash across his face. “that’s not true.” you could pinpoint his defensive tone from a mile away— the same tone he would use when he got in trouble for something he did do, but always tried to claim he didn’t. 

“isn’t it?” you laugh bitterly, shaking your head a little. “come on, john b. you barely talk to me anymore. if i didn’t come looking for you, i don’t even think you would have noticed i wasn’t around.”

“that’s not fair.”

“neither is feeling like i lost my best friend.”

the crack in your voice must’ve struck something inside him because you watched as his defences crumbled. he set his beer down, running a hand through his already messy curls as he sighed deeply.

“it wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he spoke, his voice quiet.

“then why was it?” you pressed, eyes still trained on him.

he hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting away before they finally met yours again. “because i screwed up.”

your brows furrowed, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he said quietly.

john b exhaled shakily. “i started… feeling things i wasn’t supposed to feel. about you. and i thought if i got closer to kie, it would— i don’t know, distract me or something. make it go away.” he laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “but it didn’t. it just made everything worse because i couldn’t stop thinking about you.” 

your breath caught in your throat as you stared at him, the weight of his confession settling over you like a blanket. “so, what? you just pushed me away instead of telling me the truth?”

“i didn’t want to ruin what we had.” his voice cracked, and for the first time, you saw the fear in his eyes. “you’re my best friend, and if you didn’t feel the same way— i can’t lose you, (y/n). i thought maybe if i kept my distance, it would hurt less.” 

you swallowed the lump in your throat, emotions churning in your stomach. anger, hurt, but underneath it all, a flicker of something you had buried a long time ago. 

“john b—”

“i’m sorry,” he cut you off, voice barely above a whisper. “i didn’t mean to hurt you. i just— i didn’t know what else to do.”

you searched his face, the boy you’d known for many years looking at you like he was afraid you might disappear. that you might run away and never speak to him again. 

“you’re an idiot,” you laughed softly, shaking your head. 

he looked startled, blinking in confusion. “what?”

“all this time, you were scared of ruining our friendship, and you didn’t even think to ask how i felt.”

“how you felt?” he repeated, brow furrowing. the pure confusion over his features made you want to laugh, but instead you just rolled your eyes. 

“i liked you too, john b. i still do.”

his eyes widened slightly, hope flickering in them like the fireflies dancing in the yard. “you do?”

“yeah,” you admitted, your voice softening. “but you’re going to have to make up for being a complete idiot about it.”

a slow, disbelieving grin spread across his face. “i think i can manage that.” 

before you could get another word out, he leaned in, hand brushing against yours as he closed the distance. the kiss was tentative at first, a question in the way his lips moved against yours. but when you didn’t pull away, you felt as he deepened the kiss, like he was trying to make up for all that time he’d wasted worrying. 

when you finally broke apart, he let out a breathless chuckle, resting his forehead against yours. 

“i’m never phasing you out again,” he promised.

“oh so you were phasing me out?” you tease, resulting in several pokes to your side by the curly haired male in protest.

“okay— okay! but seriously. you better not,” you said, a small smile pulling at your lips.

and just like that, it was you and john b again. always had been. always would be.

[hunters-knot]

You go to a bar and are drinking with friends when a creep approaches. He flirts and doesn't take no for an answer, and when you look away - even though it was just a glance - he drugs your drink and waits for you to get dizzy. He helps you out of the bar and into the back alleyway.

As he drools over your body while beginning to strip you down, his greasy hands on your perfect skin, you can't do a thing. Your limbs are heavy. Your mind is cloudy. You don't even know what's happening. You just know that something bad is happening.

The man stops. He looks up, and the resounding sound of a low growl echoes in the dark alley. He can barely react, fumbling for his weapon as I latch my jaws around his throat and shake. He is a rat that I sniffed out in the pantry, and his spine is my chew toy. The sickening crack of a spine snapping is heard shortly after.

I sniff you. My cold and wet nose lightly running along your body. You are out of it, and your clothes are torn, but you haven't been dirtied. I pick you up, claws that were just a second ago ripping a man apart now holding you like a dove with a wounded wing. I carry you safely through the night and back to the den.

Once home, I can't help it. You're home, you're safe. You're perfect. Those gentle hands once more turn rough as your hips are grabbed and my cock slides into you. Even in your state, you know who it is that's inside you. You moan for me, and it drives me wild. I rut into your limp body, my knot hitting your entrance over and over until I feel my release bubbling up. My knot squeezes tightly into you and licks us together while I unload my seed into you. The heat fills your entire being, and following that heat, satisfaction.

[skellymom]

"LAST ISLAND WOLF"

BAD BATCH ALTERNATE ENDING!

Creepy Alternate Ending to the wonderful story written by @kybercrystals94 ! And upon request for some cryptozoology storytelling suggested by reader @fionas-frenzy !!!

To read the original story, click on the icon below. I included an excerpt of it to bridge the alternate ending. Kyber's part is italicized and my collab is in orange lettering. No worries readers, I did get the ok from Kyber ahead of time to do this!

ENJOY!!! (Happy Friendsgiving, y'all!)

Word Count: 778

Warning: Wolf bites human, horror trope.

He wishes that such security extended to himself as well.  

Crosshair listens to their breathing even out, listens to the fire crackle and snap hungrily, listens to the wind in the treetops. He watches shadows stretch in the moonlight and dance in the firelight. It is peaceful. It is safe. He even has his firepuncher nearby, just in case this is all an illusion. But it’s not, this is their new reality. Safe. Content. Home. His eyes feel heavy, and he wants to sleep. But he can’t seem to allow it. 

“Cross?” Hunter’s voice is soft, groggy. “You still awake?”  

He almost doesn’t answer, pretends; however, Hunter is impossible to fool.  

Kriffing enhancement.  

“Yeah,” he says, rolling to his back.  

“Why?”  

“Dunno.”  

Hunter hums. “I think you do.”  

“I’m not tired,” Crosshair lies.  

Hunter sits up, props his forearms on his knees. Crosshair watches the movement out his peripheral, keeps his gaze skyward. Hunter mutters, “It feels strange not having someone on watch, doesn’t it?” 

Crosshair hides his surprise behind a retort, throwing Hunter’s own joke back at him. “Why? Scared the island wolf might get you while you sleep?” 

Hunter’s voice curves around a grin...” No...” 

Crosshair turns to face his brother. 

Hunter’s face is shrouded in dark shadows.  His features undiscernible in the gloom... 

He lifts his nose to the air and inhales deeply.  The movement causes Hunter’s retinas to glimmer and flash in the firelight. 

“I can SMELL your fear” 

Crosshair’s blood runs cold.   

Before he can speak, Hunter is on him. 

Crosshair’s ONLY saving move is blocking Hunter with his rifle.  His brother...this THING...strains over Firepuncher growling gutturally, teeth gnashing and snapping at Cross.   

He’s SO MUCH stronger than I remember! 

Hunter’s hands grip Crosshairs and dig into them with his...it’s claws.  Crosshair instinctively releases his grip on the rifle.  

He CRIES out in pain, and the futility of his struggle. 

It’s ripped from his grasp.  He watches Firepuncher sail away and hit the ground... 

...near Wrecker and Omega... 

Their eyes glow in the firelight as they passively watch Crosshair struggle... 

It is the LAST thing Crosshair sees before Hunter sinks his teeth into his brother’s throat... 

... 

... 

... 

Crosshair awakes SCREAMING! 

Hunter is above him...both hands holding back his own as Crosshair blocks his brother with Firepuncher. 

“CROSSHAIR!  SNAP OUT OF IT!!!”  Hunter shouts in Cross’ face. 

Hunter can sense the abject TERROR in Crosshair.  His brother’s eyes WILD in the firelight. 

Crosshair glances over Hunter’s shoulder to see Wrecker and Omega stare at them in utter shock and concern. 

It slowly dawns on Cross that he had one hell of a nightmare.  He relaxes and lowers the rifle, exhaling, tension releasing from his body. 

Hunter let’s go and stands up. 

Crosshair sit’s up, mopping sweat from his brow... 

A bloodcurdling howl rises from the shadows around them. 

Crosshair IMMEDIATELY snaps to sniper position, scanning the perimeter through his scope.  Ready to blast WHATEVER emerges from the darkness... 

Something in the underbrush slowly crunches toward them... 

Cross’ finger hovers over the trigger... 

Hunter steps forward.  He QUICKLY yanks the rifle up and skyward. 

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”  Crosshair hisses. 

The crunching become louder and closer... 

... 

... 

... 

Tech emerges from the darkness RIGHT in front of them. 

“Well, that prank could have ended horribly.”  He sasses “Wrecker, I TOLD YOU this wouldn’t work.  Besides, I ONLY have Loth Wolf recordings.  The Island Wolf SHOULD sound MUCH MORE ominous and otherworldly.” 

“Aww, how should I know he’d get TRIGGERED” Wrecker scratched his head.  “There are NO Imperials in that story!” 

“Horrible choice of wording, Wrecker.  Besides, Crosshair is exhibiting a CLASSIC PTSD response.  I warned you...”  Tech plops down next to the fire, tapping away at his datapad. 

“WAIT..!”  Crosshair panics, staring at Tech.  “YOU SHOULD BE DEAD!!!” 

Hunter pats Crosshair’s shoulder.  “You had a nightmare.”  He soothes his brother and carefully takes Firepuncher away from Cross. 

“...but...”  Cross sputters...staring at everyone. 

They stare back at him...as though he had gone insane. 

Hunter steers Crosshair to sit next the campfire, setting the rifle aside.  Wrecker offers Cross a canteen of water while Omega snuggles up next to him, attempting to hug away the night terrors. 

Hunter, Wrecker, and Omega resume their campfire small talk. 

Crosshair takes a long drink, muttering to himself...” You were supposed to have died...” 

He exhales and splashes some water on his face.  Then glances across the crackling fire to Tech. 

Tech, sensing Crosshair’s stare, slowly raises his head from the datapad... 

His goggle lenses flare and flicker... 

...Tech smiles nefariously at Crosshair unbeknownst to his other siblings... 

...a SHARP smile at that.... 

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[ashthewaterghoul]

You think the papas have ever defended their ghouls when someone in the clergy, like a sibling of sin, said foul/mean things about the ghouls appearance? I feel like once a papa summons their ghouls, there’s also this deep connection of protection that comes with it

What do you think each papa would say or do when they hear or witness someone making fun of the ghouls looks?

Or do you think ghouls are sacred in the clergy and are highly respected since they are beings from hell 🤔

I think some of the older Ghouls are respected because they’re the big and burly protectors they’re meant to be. But, when the Ghost project started and they started interacting with more humans and picking up their mannerisms, that’s when the Clergy started losing respect.

Primo would act calm to someone’s face but then he would choose a specific plant to add to a tea blend he’d make. Innocent enough he does that all the time. But, this would make you very ill. When a few people would get “ill”, it’d be covered up by “oh it must be that stomach bug that’s going around the Siblings right now :/“

Secondo is mean when he puts his mind to it and often like to mess with people. He’s not scared to let his Ghouls run wild and they’re smart enough to clean up their messes afterwards.

Terzo would clap back right there to someone’s face like that bad bitch he is. They would also be in his bad books forevermore and he’ll do everything in his power to make their lives miserable. He’s sent many people to janitorial jobs in some of the grebbiest places in the Ministry.

Copia is the Papa who understands Ghoul kind the most, imo, and let’s his Ghouls handle things how they see fit. While they may all be a group of dumbasses sometimes, they all know how to hunt and how to get away with it. And Copia will always help them with their ruses.

[not-poignant]

Assumption: You have never ridden a horse.

Oooo, this is a fun one, salkfjas

I have! I've ridden more than one horse, more than once.

(Actual storytime) (This is from the Assumptions meme!)

In late highschool and in the few years after I had a close friend who owned a horse (Billy) and agisted him, and was responsible for him. She basically was allowed to get him when she got her driver's license.

I was the kind of friend (and still kind of am, energy willing) that you could drag around to all your chores and I'd just be there. So I'd be there when she went shopping. I would be there when she went to get horse food. I would be there when she did homework. I would be there when she went to visit her horse and brush him down and feed him etc.

I helped with basic chores and watched from the sidelines and mostly hung out with her dog, Huskee, who was not a husky, but a borderline collie x corgi who barked nonstop at that horse, who she alas, could not herd.

Through this friend I actually learned about Natural Horsemanship, to the point where I actually went to a couple of Pat Parelli seminars (run by Pat) in like 2000/2001. It was the thing that really sparked my interest in animal training, especially humane, fear free animal training (and clicker training specifically, since Pat was teaching marker training at the time, and said friend started using it on their dog, Huskee).

I never rode, for a long time, because I was happy on the sidelines, and also I went there so my friend could ride her horse, not so I could like, steal her horse out from under her lol. I don't think her horse liked me very much anyway (later I'd find out that was pretty much true, it was a zero respect relationship, maybe he knew I was a doormat lmao).

Anyway, said friend had another friend who was extremely horse intense, and she got her own horse (Coda) , that she then never really took the time to ride. Coda was kind of nuts. Billy was the kind of horse who walked so slow you felt like you were going backwards, Coda had one speed: gallop. Coda and Billy got on great.

But Coda was pretty neglected, and so I often spent time with him while my friend did her chores with Billy. I was used to bringing out food, or changing water etc. so I did that for Coda sometimes. And after a while, friend was like 'it would be cool if we could trail ride together, how about you learn on Billy first since he's so slow and sedate.' And friend was like 'I'll ride Coda because I have more experience.' This made sense! She wanted me to stay safe!! But...

Billy was slow, sedate, and did not give a shit about me. This is a horse that stepped on my feet (on purpose), who deliberately angled towards low-hanging branches to scrape me off the saddle (hilarious, but also not really), and made it clear how much he wasn't interested in anyone else riding him in the most passive aggressive way a horse possibly can.

Coda, on the other hand, had a reputation for being wild and unstable. He'd tossed multiple riders more than once, hadn't been trained with Natural Horsemanship (like...kind of? But not really) and was not halter-broke by the time friend-of-friend got him, so just getting him to accept a halter and a saddle at all was huge, and anything beyond that was like 'welp, good luck.'

However, it was obvious trying to do anything with me and Billy was not going to work out. So...Coda it was.

And idk how to explain it, but Coda and I just got along. It was on the other hand terrifying, because his default movement was 'canter' and all he wanted to do, all he wanted to do, was gallop up and down granite hills as quickly as possible and spook at fucking everything. It wasn't his fault, he wasn't taken out much and he had that kind of personality. He once saw a kangaroo in the distance and spun a full 360 degrees, and I ended up half off him, hanging on for dear life, while friend just stared at me and said: 'how did you not fall off, that was insane. You might actually be good at this.'

Well. No, I wasn't, I just had a good grip, lmao.

So we went on extremely stressful trail rides together. Billy thankfully curbed some of Coda's GOTTA GO FAST instincts but only to a point, so I had to be pretty hypervigilant nonstop because that dude bunched his hindquarters what felt like every ten seconds, and I can't really blame him, it's what he loved to do most. He was just a terrible horse to learn to ride on, lmao, even if we did get along.

I haven't ridden since and honestly haven't felt much of an inclination to. I'd be too heavy now anyway. And I'm pretty certain I'd be bad at it. When your first experience is 'placid horse who generally accepts everyone but stares at you in a desultory manner and makes sure you know - while feeding him / brushing him / watering him etc. - that you do not matter in the grand scheme of things' followed by 'I like you! NOW I WILL FLING MYSELF DOWN THIS GRANITE HILL WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE WE ARE ALL SCREAMING IN EXCITEMENT AND NOT FEAR' you think 'actually I don't need to ride the murder ponies, it's fine.'

Anyway, yeah, I have ridden a horse.

[crumblingsugarcookie]

The wild thing is that Azula is most similar to Sozin! Both of them were constantly compared to their sibling, with them being the stronger bender but not good enough to be a decent firelord (although Azula's weakness was her belief that domination was the only way to rule).

At the same time, because they were the stronger bender, they were favored by their father and pushed to be "perfect". Being perfect meant being ruthless.

That ruthlessness extended to their loved ones. We have them both caring about their friend(s), yet being willing to abandon them for their vision of the future. Especially once they realize that their friends were capable of stopping them. The love and care did not disappear. But there was no room for disappointment The only difference is that Azula didn't leave Mai and Ty Lee to die (or try to kill them).

I think is where Ursa's side kicks in, which means Roku. Azula is strong in her beliefs and her ideas of what the world needs, which pushes her to be firm and force people to submit to her. Roku could've killed Sozin, but instead let him go with a warning because of their relationship. Azula could've killed Zuko, Mai, and Ty Lee for their betrayal. But chose not to.

Azula would run around saying she was going to become an only child, but now it sounds more like when Arthur told D. W. that she would "be a lonely child" once he sold her. She would never kill him. But she would capture and take him in if it meant sticking to her beliefs and dreams for the world.

Even when she hit Zuko with lightning, she knew he wouldn't die. Although she was definitely going to maim Katara. PLUS, how she treats the gang is something to be considered. Like, my girl definitely could've killed them.

She was definitely focused more on capturing them. If Azula was like Azulon or Ozai, then Zuko, Mai, Ty Lee, and the gang would've been dead 10x over. It's so interesting. Because everyone kept seeing Roku in Zuko and kept pushing the idea of getting to choose your bloodline.

But Azula was written off because she showed the more ruthless and firm sides of both Sozin and Roku. It's clear that Roku's traits shine through. No one cared enough to look because she was Ozai's favorite. Like, fuck Iroh lowkey. Imagine being a war criminal, who was favored by his bloodthirsty and callous father because of Iroh's bloodthirsty nature. And then looking at young girl, who is essentially just like you, and writing her off as evil.

All in all, I don't think Azula is like Ozai or Ursa at all. She's not bloodthirsty or ruthless enough, has principles, and cares about others and how they view her (why she was struggling on Ember Island). Unlike Ozai, she doesn't believe herself to deserve the best because it's her right. She believes she deserves the best because she works to be the best.

She's not soft or sly enough, selfish, or jaded. Unlike Ursa, she's rough and approaches dislikes and confrontation head on. Azula speaks and takes action, rather than being resigned to her "fate". Unlike Ursa, Azula can live with tough decisions and the terrible things she does. Azula doesn't hide behind her hard life. She knows she's doing fucked up shit and stands 10 toes down because those are her PRINCIPLES.

Ruthless. Caring. Overly conscious of her position and who she is as a person. In many ways, Azula is the perfect combination of Sozin and Roku. Although Sozin and Roku ended as enemies, they were friends because they were similar. Their visions for the world were the only thing that drove them apart.

Imagine what Azula could have been if she was given a fraction of the empathy Zuko received (from other characters). I could see her being a great addition to Zuko's administration.

people keeping arguing about if azula is more similar to ozai or ursa but I don’t think we’re considering the potential of azula being most similar to azulon

[sweetlullabyebye]

They said 'hypocrisy who'

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Wait-

What about your Human AU, when does Eddie get into the lake?!

uhhhh *rolls dice* the group gets Shitfaced™️ and Eddie wakes up on a partially flooded raft in the middle of yeah, the lake <3 no idea how he got there <3

[stabbyfoxandrew]

i need to cry for like 2 hours and go to sleep, i think that would fix me

[age-of-moonknight]

“New Kids on the Block,” Spider-Woman (Vol. 8/2023), #7.

Writer: Steve Foxe; Penciler and Inker: Ig Guara; Colorist: Arif Prianto; Letterer: Joe Sabino

[princema-k]

"Dr. ████ had him programmed with a 'kill-code' that was supposed to activate should he deviate. It didn't work as he'd hoped."

"Roo-D said we should be able to revert him to normal if we remove the controller chip module planted in him..."

"..."

"...Easier said than done..."

"None of us can even get close to him..."

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

25-28 is probably my favorite run of episodes just like. in the whole show. especially with added context. like oh ok, john literally just got back from being retraumatized and going through literal hell and literally all he wants is to escape that and know that he's not completely fucked as a person for what he did to survive it. which he isn't even allowed to talk about directly but still desperately wants some kind of comfort/reassurance from the only person he trusts and cares about, who's been his guide and anchor in the past.

unfortunately almost the second he gets back he discovers that arthur's going to be exactly negative helpful in this regard because he's taken all of roughly 24 hours to escalate to "kill everyone in the building and then myself" levels of mental breakdown. so now john's on duty as a sanity checker. fucking. okay. this is the opposite of what he wanted. great.

[hiding-under-the-willow]

Tossing and turning in bed plagued by visions (Ed Edgar headcanons that are definitely just me projecting my cowboy ass autistic interest in strange animals onto him bc he too is a strange southern man with autistic swag)