#you can wear whatever the fuck you want!!! do what you want!!! you are just giving yourself more cages here!!!

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two

It’s dark. The window is still open, but the chillier air is kind of nice on Eddie’s flushed skin.

The clean bedding is nice too; Eddie tries to remember the last time he appreciated something as nice as clean sheets and draws a blank.

Probably when he still lived with Wayne. Probably before they made it big. Probably before the partying started.

Eddie picks up his phone, his thumb hovering over the call button. He presses it.

Wayne doesn’t pick up. Eddie’s not surprised, not really.

He tries Chris; she doesn’t answer either.

Likewise Gareth.

He doesn't bother calling Jeff.

There’s no one else in his phone; Chrissy took it all away when Eddie couldn’t differentiate between a friend a dealer or a booty call.

Like the worst Marie Kondo ever, Chrissy had held up the hundreds of friends Eddie had in his phone, one by one, ‘does this spark joy?’

No. Sometimes sucked his dick, though.

Eddie has money though. He twirls his phone on his chest, flipping it from long edge to short. There’s always somewhere open. Flip. Flip. Flip.

Not like anyone's answering him right now anyway. They’ve just left him here. With fucking Steve. It’s just one time anyway, he wouldn’t get away with it more than once. Chrissy would put him on proper lock down if she found out. Probably shove him back in the clinic.

So...just once.

One last go. And then he’d quit for sure. He hasn’t touched it for months, so he’s pretty much proved he can do it, anyway.

Eddie gets dressed. Finds cash balled up in random places.

Eddie stands in the doorway. Look up at the stars and then across the lawn at the security gates. He hasn’t had so much as a cigarette in nearly half a year. This is fine.

“Where you going, Eddie?”

Eddie sighs. Fucking busted. Still, “no where you need to worry about.”

“Uh hu.”

“Look, I’m not on house arrest okay? I can go out, I’m a grown fucking man.”

“You totally are. You want to go out, you go for it. No skin off my nose.”

Eddie whirls, shocked, “what the fuck? Aren’t you supposed to try and stop me from doing dumb shit?”

Steve raises the eyebrow, “so you admit it’s dumb?” He looks sleep rumpled, wearing sweats and a white tee shirt.

Walked right into that one. “You’re dumb.”

The face again. The totally schooled features that are utterly professional and give absolutely nothing away and yet...somehow...he’s laughing at Eddie. Eddie can feel it.

“So you go out,” Steve saunters over, stands next to Eddie, bare toes curling over the doorstep, “you score or drink or do whatever it is you’re aiming to do. Then what?”

“Then what,” Eddie mimics, all bitchy, “I’ll come home, and I’ll sober up, and it won’t change a fucking thing,” Eddie bites out.

“You think? You’ve had sober spells before, is that how it’s gone in the past?”

Eddie takes a deep breathe, because no, no that is not how it’s fucking gone in the past, “this time is different.”

“Is it?” Steve asks, completely fucking nonchalant, “how so?”

Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to punch someone so bad in all his life. Imagines it viscerally, Steve's fucking head cracking on the door frame while he slumps to the floor in a bloody heap.

Eddie does not do that, obviously.

“Look, I’ll come home, we don’t do anything about it, you still get paid, sound good?”

“I get paid either way,” Steve shrugs one shoulder, because he’s a cunt. “This is how a lot of addicts die, did you know that?”

“What?” Eddie asks, startled by the left turn.

“Yeah, get out of rehab, think their tolerance is still the same, get back on it…” he doesn’t bother to finish.

“That won’t happen to me.”

“Oh yeah, right. Of course. Because you’re Eddie Munson, sorry, sorry, forgot a second there.”

Eddie takes two thumping angry steps into the yard and just...just fucking screams at the sky. Just...roars at nothing. This is shit. It’s so shit. Everything is shit. And Eddie nearly fucking died last time and there’s no escaping that fact. There’s no help. There’s no point to any of this. There’s just pain and fucking misery and something clawing at Eddie’s insides trying to get out.

He roars until he’s hoarse. Until he can’t any more. Until his chin is wet with spit and he feels week and rung out.

He sits on his ass on the cold, dewy lawn.

Steve is still standing in the doorway, he doesn’t look like he’s moved at all. If he’s at all bothered by Eddie’s little meltdown, he isn’t showing it.

“Why did you want to go?” Steve asks finally, "did something change?"

Eddie shrugs, he’s got nothing, not really. No real reason past just wanting to get fucked up. Because it feels good. Because he likes it.

“Okay, what’s worth staying for?”

Eddie makes a dismissive ‘pfffft’, made croaky by his fucked out voice.

“They always say you need to do these things for yourself,” Eddie glares at Steve, because that's some dumb shit right there. Always had it in therapy though. Self worth. Mindfulness. Living in the moment and being proud of what you’ve already achieved and every journey starts with a single step and all that other bull shit they try and feed you. “I know. I agree. When you...feel like you’re nothing, you’re not worth any effort. It’s the hardest time. So pick someone else. Who can you do it for?”

“They don’t care,” Eddie croaks, “they didn’t answer,” he pulls his phone out, flips it onto the grass.

“Who?”

“Chris. Wayne.”

“Okay, give me a good reason why Wayne didn’t answer? That’s your uncle, right?”

“Yeah he...he could be at work,” Eddie admits quietly. Eddie’s given Wayne money. Well, practically forced it on him. Set him up with a nice place; or at least as nice as he could talk Wayne into. Wayne doesn’t believe in free loading though. Eddie’s convinced him to do less hours, but he still works nights two or three times a week. Claims it’s ninety percent of his social life, or some shit like that.

“Okay, and Chris?”

Eddie shrugs, embarrassment over his outburst making him petulant now.

“Eddie, what time is it where Chris is, right now?”

Eddie sighs up at the stars. It’s the middle of the fucking night, “late. Early. I guess.”

“Okay. So they’re not ignoring you, they’re just living their lives like normal human beings. Come on, get up, your ass is gonna be wet.”

“And do what?” Eddie snaps, “what’s the fucking point.” It’s not a question.

“Come on, I want to show you something.”

“It was a tough time, you know? Like, life sucks hard sometimes. Music helps. My favorite is The Wilds, you know? You heard that one?” The interviewer mumbles something indistinguishable, “it’s kind of...like the bit about the shining sea, you know? How like, it’s so beautiful, but it’s fucking hard to sail on. Or like how the mountains are so beautiful, but if you go up there alone, you’re gonna�� die, right? So I think...like how insignificant, and meaningless my life is, in like, the grand scheme of things, but like...that makes what you do even more important, right? Like, it means more, when you choose to be...I dunno,” the kid with a million piercings shrugs, “like just be good to each other, you know?”

“That’s not even remotely what that song is about,” Eddie mumbles at the laptop monitor.

Behind him, Steve snorts a laugh, “well that kid thinks it is.”

Another kid, more makeup than the whole of Kiss slathered on her face, “I just think it has meaning, you know?” The interviewer mumbles something again, “oh my favorite?” A lip bitten in thought, she looks at the sky for inspiration, it’s sunset, Eddie figures. Lots of similarly dressed kids in the background. Takes him a second to realize this was filmed outside of a gig, or something like that. “It’s hard to pick, but if I gotta’, it’s definitely Double Down. Those lyrics are just...Eddie Munson is just...he’s a fucking genius, you know?” She frowns, “but also really fucking dumb soemtimes, I hope he’s okay.”

“I didn’t even write that one. Jeff wrote most of that. On napkins, I think. I just...worked it together.”

Another kid, saying how important Corroded Coffin are; how they helped this kid through hard times. Honestly it’s a difficult watch, Eddie has no fucking clue where Steve even found this, and when Eddie’s phone rings he jumps on it, glad of an excuse to slap the screen of the laptop closed.

“Hi, Eddie! You called, sorry it’s early I got up to go for a run-”

“No. No, it’s fine, I...I shouldn’t have called you so late. Early. You were probably sleeping.”

“That’s okay, of course it’s okay, it’s nice you called me,” she snickers, “you never call me.”

That’s true, and Eddie feels bad. It’s always Chrissy chasing after Eddie. Trying to keep a lid on him...trying to keep him safe. He was always the one dodging her. “Yeah, sorry…” Eddie gets up so he can walk away from Steve, tail between his legs he slinks into the hall, he vows, “I’ll try and do better.”

“Good, how are you feeling? Hows your rut?”

Eddie is not fucking admitting that he just had a breakdown and nearly fucked it all up in the middle of the night. No fucking way is he admitting that, “yeah...yeah, just...couldn’t sleep, you know? I guess the rut...still going. Feels weird.”

Eddie can hear Chris moving around, figures she has him on speaker or something, “uh hu, that’s because you haven’t cycled a proper rut in like, four years honey, these things take time to settle. Is Steve doing okay? You’re not being a cunt to him are you?”

“Well I’ve only thought about punching him,” something jogs in Eddie’s mind, “Chrissy, what happened to the cleaning lady?”

“Oh...we did talk about it honey but you weren't really...taking it in, I don’t think-”

“I was fucked up.”

“Yeah...but she…”

“Just say it.”

“The...you know, the vomit. You were constantly trashing the place. She was worried she was...well she was mostly scared she was going to walk in one day and find your body.”

“Oh.” Eddie slumps down on the bottom step, “that sucks. I liked her.”

“Don’t worry, her final pay was incredible. She got a really impressive bunch of flowers.”

“Oh...well. Thank you. For sorting that.” Eddie’s eyes feel wet. His lip wobbles a little, but he holds it in. He’s got no right to guilt about that, not now. “The place looks okay though, I think Steve’s been cleaning some.”

“Yeah, probably, he seems like a good guy.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, but the first tear breaks free and he knows he can’t hide it much longer, “go on your run.”

“Okay, speak later?”

“Yeah, course.”

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?”

“It’s so great to hear you sounding more like yourself, I missed you so much.”

Eddie hangs up, draws his knees up to his chest, the material of his sweats already darkened with tears.

[theangryman]

hey -

if you wanna know why i’m a bit more angry than normal

I have been on testosterone my entire adult life. i had a whole ass degree, a marriage, a divorce, jobs, tragedies idk all this other shit as a man on testosterone

*even* let’s grant all of your fucking posits and hypotheticals and all that other shit, that i’m damaged somehow, that somehow even more therapy would have told the neurons in my brain to stop firing and say :( no pen0r feel bad feel bad feel bad feel bad

the medicine that makes me feel good enough to function where before i was going to kill myself. like not in histrionic wow! i’m going to kill myself if you don’t give me meds way like you want to imagine it. the evil manipulative histrionic tranny. no, i was just dead inside and in my soul and felt hollow and empty and sick

that my body felt like slamming c# and d next to each other, endless all the time hate hate hate

and yeah, the therapists told me you can wear whatever clothes and play whatever video games. i didn’t *learn* the word transgender until i was maybe 14-15 years old. furtively reading feminist blogs (Feministe, Feministing, Pervocracy, Sociological Images, Trans Griot, RIP Google reader)

i didn’t conceive of being a trans man - i was familiar with trans women but i understood as the same as cross dressers. i read about Freud and thought it maybe the penis envy thing was what i had

i mean, in elementary we had a lizard we named “he-she” because the concept seemed hilarious!

but i hit the stumbleupon button over and over, one day, Hudson’s guide. one day, how to get a haircut to look like a man, to fake a beard to hold one’s body wide to dress this way to ask for this haircut so you look like a man and not a butch lesbian

and i knew i wanted it and needed it but i couldn’t because i fucking knew that the world would hurt me for it. butch lesbian was such a compromise it made sense

and i was smart. even if you hate me the “illiterate” insult can’t feel right. i’m pretty fucking good at math too. i *had* a future so i knew i couldn’t do this, that the world would become my enemy, that my face shall be hid, and i shall be a fugitive and a wanderer in the earth

so i didn’t transition. i certainly wouldn’t have been safe to discuss it with my family at the time. I buried in myself the idea of something else

but i couldn’t live that way. i couldn’t function. I couldn’t leave the house. my body was coated in layers shapeless and indistinct

i hated my body i hated being alive i couldn’t talk to people

i made myself in the sims, over and over and over and over, what i’d want my body to look like

testosterone gave me me. I can’t describe it. the things about me are things that i learned because testosterone made me feel like a person. the c#/d duo played by a middle schooler trying to annoy their parents becomes a harmonious chord; the rock lodged in the bottom of the shoe is finally locked free

why do people *care so fucking much* why the need to hurt others? to say no, we cannot accept that this medical condition could possible exist, that there are so fucking many people for whom these treatments make life worth living? the life off of T is escapism, the life on T is liberation for me

Texas’ HB 3399 bill will kill people if it passes. It will make hormone therapy illegal. For all ages. Period. This was never about women’s sports. It was never about bathrooms. It was never about “protecting the children”. They want us dead. If you’re a fellow trans person and you live in Texas, I strongly urge you to be ready to move somewhere safer.

[pythonmoth]

cw: anxiety. post-traumatic stress disorder (torture). reader is traumatized. reader is a bit unreliable. military inaccuracies. hurt/comfort (I guess?).

simon riley x f!reader. implied simon riley x soap. implied simon riley x f!reader x soap.

First | Last | Next

Being home is incredibly boring, especially if you can't move much.

Your brother's been taking care of you, making sure you're eating, that you let your injuries breathe, and soon enough, the cuts on your feet allow you to move around on your own. It takes a whole month for your brother to leave you alone for longer than a few hours. It's a good thing, really, because if you want to spend hours just laying in your bed and crying in silence as you stare at the ceiling, you can. He would only come whenever you needed a ride, anyway.

Despite being able to move around and now even managing to use your sensitive fingers, you dread the idea of going outside. You have to wear sandals and loose pants, because your toes cannot, by any means, be touched by any kind of fabric yet, or else you're grimacing in pain. Feeling defenseless hasn't been a thing ever since you became part of the team. Not even your skills could take down Simon, but you could put up a fight with them all, easily; never won, but you were confident with anyone else on the street.

No doubt you could still beat them up, your skills are still there, but the idea of someone somehow restricting your movements felt like torture all over again. The idea of anyone getting a hold of you makes you want to throw up. Your mind and body betray you, making you remember those awful moments, and you don't realize you're pulling a face.

"You're spacing out".

You look up at the therapist, giving her a little nod as an apology, getting comfortable on the seat. Restless, you can't help but look around for a moment again. The office is incredibly white, clean, filled with mirrors for whatever fucked up reason, and the only thing that isn't grey or white is one of the cushions on the couch on the other side of the room. It's deep purple. It looks awful.

Seemingly realizing you won't be of much help with the question she just asked you, she gives you a smile. "How are your nails? I can see you're using your hands a lot more".

"They're healing" you reply, looking down at your fingers instead of focusing on the cushion. "I can use my hands pretty normally now, but I can't use the stove for long".

"Because of the heat". An affirmation. You've already mention it before, and you're not surprised she remembers that. Probably read it on her notes.

"It hurts, yeah".

"And how are your feet?" she asks, looking down at the way you absentmindedly drag your hands on your pants from your thighs to your calves in slow movements. You only realize what you're doing because you can hear the way her pen drags across the paper, distracting you.

"Well... I can only wear sandals. Doctor said I should be okay to move around with real shoes in three months".

"And what do you think?"

"He's the doctor. I want to believe he knows what he's doing, so I can't really question it. I do hope it heals sooner, though".

The therapist writes down on her notebook. With an uncomfortable feeling, you desperately want to know what she's writing, your eyes drifting to the movement of the pen, but you can't make out a single letter.

"So you trust the doctor, right?" she questions, moving one of her erasers to the other side of her desk. Your eyes are fixed entirely on it, on the little thud the eraser makes when she sets it down.

"He knows best, that's for sure. If he's there, must be a reason" you answer, tilting your head as she keeps moving her things around, making them fit somewhere else on her desk. The pencil goes to the left, then to the right, the eraser from top to bottom of the notebook, as if she's as antsy as you are.

"Do you apply that thought somewhere else? Like... at work? Or if you need help at a store and find an employee, maybe?"

The therapist's eyes are on you all the time, your hands, your anxious feet; your little habits coming to light with a single look. The way you bite the inside of your lower lip, the little double blink you make when she moves something in her desk yet again, even if you don't say anything.

"Of course. If they know their way around, it's only right that I ask for help, and trust that" you answer, frowning. You don't think that question is relevant at all, but she keeps writing, and writing.

"I see. Thank you. Now, you mentioned you've been texting G- Simon. Can you tell me how it makes you feel?"

You go silent for a moment, your fingertips dragging across your arm, so softly you can barely feel it. "It's better now".

During the first three months of being home, Simon would text you nearly every single day. He didn't expect a text back and you knew that, because you told him you wouldn't promise to be responsive. Simon would send you pictures of their plain meals, of Gaz sleeping on your bed, Johnny posing next to Price with their thumbs up, or terrible selfies of himself. Always without a mask.

Tuesday

11:27

"Price scolded Johnny because he had crumbs on his uniform. It was hilarious"

Saturday

03:26

"Just got back. Everyone ok"

Even Johnny would text you from time to time. It was mostly memes, awful stickers or ridiculous, random photos of Gaz mid talking, his face weird, or Price smacking Simon's head, or the entire team posing for a picture, Gaz' arm hovering to the side as if to hug your shoulders. You didn't even need to wonder why Gaz hadn't texted you; that man hated technology with a passion.

Still, you never texted back.

You didn't really pay attention to the texts, or the little voice notes, or the selfies. You didn't feel like reading them properly, always leaving them on seen or just grunting to yourself whenever you heard their distinctive tone. Why you didn't change it in the past few months, you don't know. Maybe that's a question for your therapist.

But then, the texts stop.

Monday

16:49

"Tough job"

"We leave at midnight"

23:42

"Text you when we're back"

Only, Simon doesn't text back. For days. For weeks.

You can't pretend you're not worried. It's impossible, really. You're half-tempted to call him, but you can't, you don't know how it will feel to hear his voice again. He said he'd text you and he hasn't, so he isn't back yet, and you don't want to feel vulnerable by opening up. Yet.

You go through Simon's chat, actually paying attention to whatever he sent you. You realize he sometimes sent you long texts, apologizing, accepting what he did, and even a few voice notes that you didn't notice before. They made your heart race as you listened.

"I hurt you, and I'm sorry. I love you, and you don't have to forgive me"

"Garrick told me to tell you that if you aren't eating he'll go and— shut the hell up, Johnny, I'm talking!"

"Tell her we'll go visit her by the end of the month".

That's Price's voice, you realize.

Feeling incredibly choked up, you check Johnny's chat next. You're expecting to find nothing but memes, as you've seen in passing, but when you see he sent you long, long texts, you finally let yourself cry properly.

He's been apologizing since the day you left, too afraid to face you but his texts are so poorly written you know he was in a rush, or crying, or both. His voice notes, however... they just make you break.

"I'm so sorry. I can't undo what we did. You don't owe me anything, I just... really hope you can at least tolerate me. If not, please know I'll always care for you. I love you. Goodnight".

Something inside of your chest eases, maybe moved to the point of forgiveness, even if just a moment. Your therapist has been helping you unveil whatever you missed during that day— during the torture. It's been a tough process, and she insisted you visited twice a week instead of once, but it helped. You could now understand.

Still, understanding the situation only makes your worry grow.

"Text you when we're back"

For two long weeks, there's nothing, from nobody. Only silence and fear. For the first time since you left, you're scared for them. Scared you'll have to open the door one day and it'll be Price, or maybe not even him, telling you the team is dead.

On the second week, your therapist says you can give them a call, or text them if it's more comfortable. When you say you can't, she advices you to write them letters.

"Tell them whatever you wish to say. If you're angry, write it. If you're worried, write it. There's no good or bad feelings, and it's only right to feel them. Write them for yourself, and then you can choose to give them to your team, or not".

And you did.

A whole notebook of messy writing, some tears staining the paper, and your hate slowly turned to understanding. Real understanding. Not forgiveness, not yet, but it's progress.

By the third week with no news, you just can't handle it anymore. You press call without a second thought and your heart squeezes painfully in your chest when it rings, and rings, and rings.

Hopeless, you lay in your bed, your mind working overtime as you stare at the ceiling.

A muffled dinging sound startles you awake, shifting on the bed to find your phone because that's Simon's tone. Adjusting your vision, you realize it fell from your hands to the ground when you fell asleep. You dive for it, grimacing when your sensitive fingertips brush against the carpet, but to see his name there is enough for you to endure it.

Thursday

01:22

"Safe. Couldn't text you earlier"

01:22

"You called me. Are you hurt?"

01:22

"Safe. Call me"

"Now"

His name pops up not even a moment later, his ringtone filling your ears. When you pick up, he's barely breathing, and you wonder if you're about to be told bad news.

Simon explains they were on a very tough mission, and that that was why he couldn't text you, or communicate with you at all. You could hear him shift, move around. Restless.

They got caught in enemy territory, surviving the best they could for two weeks, Simon tells you. Johnny was shot in the leg and Gaz was the one who helped him out, since Simon was too busy dragging Price, who was bleeding out because someone decided it would be fun to put a bullet through his left shoulder.

"I wasn't any better. Dr. Wilson called me a dick, and then made me lay down because I was shaking. Ridiculous" he grunts, his voice hushed on the other side of the line. "Got shot on my side, I just didn't feel it, but I was better than the other two".

He doesn't seem to expect you to speak, huffing and shuffling. You can tell he's in the clinic room, the echo incredibly familiar by now.

Of course, he doesn't tell you that the reason why he didn't text you the whole past week, is because he's been asleep, drugged out of his mind because of the pain.

"Everyone's okay. No risk. Garrick's the only one who didn't get hurt. I think—"

"I was worried, Simon. I'm glad everyone is okay".

There's silence for a long moment. Simon takes a deep breath from the other side of the phone, sighing deeply. You could hear the smile in his tone. "I wouldn't let myself get killed, luv. I'm sorry I couldn't text you before. We're safe now".

You two spend the rest of the night on the call, with you mostly staying in silence and listening. You can't believe how scared you've been for all of them, for Simon. You know it's gonna be hard to fully forgive them, if at all, but you can't help the way your body relaxes as you hear him breathing against your ear. You can't help the way your arms curl around the pillow, seeking his warmth. As before.

The call goes on for long hours. When your soft hums as he speaks stop coming to his end, Simon goes quiet, realizing you've fallen asleep. He sighs and shifts to look at the ceiling, holding the phone against his ear. Focusing on your soft breathing, he let's himself fall asleep, the gunshot wound completely unimportant if he gets to listen to you sleeping again.

He just wishes you were there.

im so sick y'all, my head hurts, but I obviously couldn't resist! also, you guys like Marina? her new song is so good! mowgli's road's vibes.

the therapist's room I'm describing in the story is actually my therapist's old room. I hated it so BAD. the mirrors were a terrible decision. also, if you can't relate to this type of therapy, that's fine. it's just my experience.

again, styling is fully intentional. can y'all tell how our reader is feeling?~

taglist: @euphoricn @lilg101010 @enfppuff @carolchaotic @silas-fanfic-favs @nina-from-317 @an-ever-angry-bi @kittygonap @dorothy-rainbird-deactivated202 @adventurerabby @defronix @sheepispink @iambuttwodaysold @blackhawkfanatic @malevolentghoul @thriving-n-jiving @literallegendicon @echo9821 @angel-bugz @ssc7514 @clickbait-official @hades--baby @blackhawkfanatic @sirbonesly @saki---chan @skeletonsucker @nnsissys @kukavittu @tessakate @honestlymassivetrash @s-a-v-a-n-a-34

(we're so many now, wow! thank you all ♡)

[kiyoomiee]

Your bestfriend, Yuuji’s older half-brother Sukuna, who always had this grudge towards you and you can’t pinpoint why.

You first met him during summer break. Your couldn’t keep up with your dorm fees anymore and happened to mention it to Yuuji one time.

“You could stay with me! I have a spare room nobody’s using.”

“Are you sure Yuuji? I don’t want to impose on you.”

“Of course I’m sure. You don’t even have to pay rent or anything.”

A home that’s close to uni and has no fees? It was heaven sent for a broke college student!

“That’s the last of them. Thank you Yuuji, I really appreciate the help. If there’s anything I could do around here just let me know.” You told him after dropping your stacking your last moving box into your new room.

“No problem. Just a heads up though, my brother also lives with me. Is that okay with you?”

“Sure, it’s fine with me.” Your famous last words.

You should’ve headed the red flags when Yuuji tried to warn you about his brother.

“Sukuna can be..difficult sometimes. But it’d be nice if you two would be friends. If not, ehh, just avoid him if you can.”

You should’ve headed the red flags when Yuuji tried to warn you about his brother.

To say that Sukuna had a bad day at the tattoo shop was an understatement. His new assistant never arrived, he was dealing with a shit client plus, his ink almost ran out.

His frustration echoed throughout the two-storey house when he slammed the front door shut.

He was confused by the smell coming from the kitchen as he walked in. Is Yuuji cooking? Nah, his idiot brother would burn the house down if he even tried to get near the kitchen.

Instead, he finds a woman’s figure busy behind the kitchen counter. It made him stop his tracks.

Beautiful, he thought. But too young for Sukuna’s taste. Plus, he doesn’t like it when a stranger touches his favorite spot in the house.

So great, his bad day is about to become worse.

“Who. The. Fuck. Are you?” You almost screamed when your eyes went to the man that appeared behind you.

He looked similar to Yuuji, but the aura was very different. His build was larger, jaw sharper, and he had looked furious.

Oh, he must be Yuuji’s brother, Sukuna. You tensed up unintentionally while his eyes wandered on what you’re wearing.

“You one of Yuuji’s girls? I told him not to bring his hookups here.” He uttered, eyes not leaving yours.

You wore a tank top with cotton pajama shorts. You looked too comfortable just to be visiting.

“No! I-I’m Yuuji’s friend. It’s nice to meet you.” You said nervously.

“Can’t say the same sweetheart. I’m not so fond of strangers in my house. So open the front door and walk outside.”

What? Is he kicking you out?

“Wait! Yuuji didn’t tell you? He allowed me to stay at the spare room down the hall.”

“He what?” Sukuna was fuming. Every step he took closer to you looked like he was going to eat you alive.

“YUUJI!” His voice thundered all over the house.

“I-I think he’s sleeping in his room.” You winced at the string of curses that came out of his mouth.

“Whatever conversation you had with my dumb brother, it’s not happening. You can’t stay here.”

“But it’s the start of the semester, I can’t find a new dorm in a snap!”

“You shouting at me, girl?”

“N-No, I mean-just please, I can take care of the house. I can even cook for you. I can’t afford to leave, not right now.”

Before Sukuna could open his mouth, Yuuji’s footsteps rang out from the stairs.

“Sukuna, you’re back! Wait, did something happen?” Yuuji looks at your nervous face.

“Yeah we’ve met alright.” Sukuna muttered, arms crossing to his chest.

“Yuuji, your brother’s kicking me out.” You tried to hide behind Yuuji’s form.

“What? You can’t kick her out!”

“I can because it’s my goddamn house. If don’t want some girl in here, she’s got to go.”

“You can’t! To be fair, I did tell you that my friend’s staying with us for a while and you agreed.”

Yeah he did agree but he thought that black haired kid was moving in, not you.

“Oh, for fucks sake,” Sukuna exclaimed and you could tell he’s about to lose it.

“I’ll stay out of your way all the time, I promise. You won’t even notice I’m here.” You pleaded him.

“Yeah, I doubt that. Clean up your damn mess.” He said harshly and glared at you before stomping his way upstairs.

“I’m so sorry. My brother’s not so good at making first impressions.” Yuuji pouted.

He’s an asshole, you wanted to say.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad he didn’t kick me out.” You exhaled in relief.

If that was his reaction during your first meeting then what about the upcoming months?

“He won’t. I’m sure you’ll grow on him, you kinda have that effect on people.” Yuuji tried to cheer you up but you just gave him a faint smile.

Yeah, somehow you doubt that would work on Sukuna.

——————————————————

note: Sukuna is 29 in this fic and your age gap is 6 years. I don’t like doing age gap with minors, so just think that everyone in this fic are 18+.

[shiggyscumrag]

Yuji Itadori is the embodiment of this text.

“Yuji please don’t stop.” You say panting with a moan slipping out at the end. One hand on your clit circling to match the pace of his hips slamming into you. Fast and rough yet he looks at you so tenderly. Little did you know just how fucking beautiful you were to him. You make him go crazy . “Fuck I wish I could get you pregnant.” Head now hanging low he groans out. Pussy drunk and lost in the sight of you. You can feel yourself about to tip over the edge and cum when a hand finds your throat. Your eyes find his, pink matching the flush on your cheeks. Squeezing he pulls you forward into a kiss sending you over. Pulling back you moan out his name loudly. “Come on baby, say it louder for the neighbors.” He teases pumping in and out working you through your high. Coming to a halt you start to kiss his neck and jaw leaving pink lipstick stains in their wake. “Shit I’m cumming!” He moans out, holding your hips to him tightly.

Megumi Fushiguro would be confused as hell if you ever said you wanted to get him pregnant.

“God I wish I could get you pregnant.” You couldn’t bite your tongue fast enough this time round. He’s just too fucking pretty to handle. Whipping his head around Megumi only gave you a bewildered look. “What did you just say?” Staring at you now fully engrossed on whatever you have to say to make what you just said make sense. “You know how male seahorses change sexes to carry the offspring for the females.” He stared at you with the same expression as if what you said made it all make sense. “So you know, I’d want to like you know-“ you cut yourself out to look at him and see if it was clicking now. It was not. “You want to get me pregnant so I can carry the kids?” He said while still sporting a puzzled look while scratching his head. “Yeah basically.” A long pause followed and he hesitated to say something and then decided to actually speak his mind. “That’s weirdly a little hot.” “REALLY?!” You shouted out of excitement and relief at him not thinking you’re a weirdo. “A little yeah, also a little embarrassing. I don’t know how that’d even be possible or more importantly I guess, how to fulfill that desire.” His hand now cupping his chin he’s diving deep in his brain to find an answer to his own curiosities. “I could peg you if you’re into that?” Looking up confused he questioned you. “What’s pegging?” Shocked pikachu face inserted here. “I have this fake penis I’d wear and I’d just fuck you I like you do me.” His cheeks turned a bright red against his pale face. “You already have one?” He asked and you let out a small chuckle before placing a soft kiss to his lips. Kissing back he closes his eyes then looks at you lazily when you pull away. “Want to try some new things out baby?” He shook his head shyly and you planted a much more hot and needy kiss then before. “Then what are you waiting for baby, follow me.” After that he followed you closely to the bedroom where you pulled a bright pink sparkly strap from your nightstand. “You think you can handle it?” Looking down at the toy he laughs a little. “I’m bigger, so yeah.” Frankie last words. A half hour of prep later and you’re pulling three fingers from his ass. Tears swell down his puffy pink cheeks and his tip is bright red leaking pre. “Fuck why’d you stop.” He whined. “It’s time to for me to see what you get to see every night. I get to see someone so pretty begging for me to fuck him dumb on my cock.” Grabbing the tip of the strap you circle around his ring. You stifled a moan that threatened to leave your throat as you watched him fall apart from the tip of your strap alone. Whiney moans echo loud around the room as you start to slowly pull out then push gently back in. “Fuck! Fuck please don’t stop!” Grabbing at the back of your head he pulls you closer to him. Chest to chest you start a slow steady pace that has him falling apart on you. You can hooch start to twitch when he frantically moans out “I’m cumming!” Which is a little too late because his cum is splattering all over his chest and your tits. You pump him through it making him cum even harder. His head rolled back against the pillows with loud groans following.

Kirishima Ejirou would be highly likely to send you this as soon as he finds out how seahorses can do this.

You’d be at work and suddenly get three loud notifications following quickly one after another. You decided to steal a quick peak since it could be a possible emergency. Lookin down you see it’s from Kiri. You’re a little more concerned now, he’s on patrol right now so is it really an emergency? Nope just three messages that read as follow: “babe babe look what I found!!” *insert link to an article about male seahorses being able to change sexes and give birth* “I wish you could get me pregnant 😔” Shocked would be an understatement. You decide instead of being critical and asking what the hell is going on, to play along. Sending back your reply you tuck away your phone and go back to work. You hear a barrage of messages rolling in from inside your purse but choose to ignore it. Later after work you come home to immediately be pounced on. The closed door now has your back pressed against it while your chest was against Ejirou’s. “You think you’re so cute don’t you?” You let out a chuckle at him while saying “Whatever could you mean honey?” Grabbing your chin he makes you look him in the eyes. “Let me remind you then. ‘Maybe I should tryout a fun new toy I got for us tonight then? Or I can just keep riding you till I get pregnant. ;)’” You look at his illuminated phone screen. A choked gasp left your lips as he lifted you over his shoulder. Smacking your ass he then bit your right cheek. “Ow kiri what are you doing!” You fake protest as you gently punched his back. “I’m holding you accountable for your horniness.” “You’re the one who said you wanted me to get you pregnant first!” “You’re the one who gave me a boner on patrol that had Fat Gum cracking jokes!” He threw you gently down on the bed leaning down over you. His face inches from yours, his breath fanning gently on your face. It was comforting having him this close, so easy to eat up. “I’m holding you to your word honey.” Pausing his thumb finds your bottom lip slipping in. Lapping at his thumb you let it go with a pop. “You’re not gonna make me beg for it are you?” Fuck you’re in for a long, but fun night.

[skyfallscotland]

Quicksilver, by Callie Hart 🦋

She is moonlight. The mist that shrouds the mountains. The bite of electricity in the air before a storm.

Ohh boy. Personally I think she is none of those things, but that's me getting ahead of myself. God, I feel so anxious posting a book reaction after the Onyx Storm Debacle, but here we are, with a book I didn't love...again.

So...I started this one with a running commentary again (Throne of Glass style) but I couldn't quite commit. We will however approach it chronologically, because that's an easier way to show my thoughts as they evolved.

Would I recommend this book? No. And I’ll tell you why, but there are spoilers ahead so be aware of that.

Friends...I did not enjoy this one and I'm starting to feel like a crazy person. Is this just a massive reading slump? Or am I weird? Because everyone seems to think these books are the best thing since sliced bread and I've not liked a single one of them 😭

My first impressions? Saeris is so cliché. Like oh we're starving and can barely survive, you can see my ribs, but actually I can scale a giant wall and fight all these fully trained guards and win...ok, sure. It's giving 00's YA vibes but alright, I'm rolling with it.

I had no understanding of what it was I was doing, but if this was a world-ending gift, then good. Fuck this city and fuck this world. My family was already doomed, and what did I care for anyone else?

Bit dramatic, but whatever, I'll still ride with you. Who am I to judge? I did write Remi.

“I wear pants. Shirts. Things I can move easily in. So I can run, and climb, and—” Kill people.

"So cliché." I mutter to myself as I put the book down. Then pick it up again. Then put it down again and use the audiobook instead.

At some point, Layne would accept that I just didn't eat that much, and she'd stop loading up my plate with so much food. She'd slip an apple into her pocket for me or something.

*Deep breaths* Saeris would absolutely fit in on mid 2000's tumblr. Babe, this is such a weird flex to include when you’ve already made it very clear she was a starving orphan, ok?

We also met the infamous Carrion—more on that later—and her brother...who sucks. No two ways about it. I hated him immediately. Are there any decent book-brothers out there? Or just...no? I thought from the way he was acting he was going to be fourteen but no, he's like TWENTY, what the fuck 😭

So anyway, hooray! We've fallen through a portal to a new world and that's the stage set—then we meet Kingfisher. Oh man. Kingfisher.

Firstly:

This is a kingfisher. I just want y’all to know that. I know it’s not his ‘real’ name but it’s still what she’s crying out in rapture ok, a choice was made and it wasn’t a good one.

Anyway, surprise surprise, he's an asshole, but here’s the rub: he doesn't seem redemptive.

My jaw was screaming, I was clenching my teeth so hard. “Fuck—you—” “There you go again. Hungry, needy little bitch in heat, begging to be fucked…” he taunted. “Let. Go!”

I’m ok with enemies to lovers, but there has to be a hint at least that the ‘bad guy’ can be a decent person. There has to be something that hooks me about him—his entire personality can’t just be ‘asshole’, and above all, despite the fact he doesn’t like the FMC (even loathes her for all I care) he has to at least have some basic respect for her, otherwise I’m not down. That’s just my personal take, you don’t have to agree, but it makes me uncomfortable otherwise.

“I don't hate your kind. I'm just disappointed by how breakable you are. If I held you down and fucked you the way I'm imagining fucking you right now, I doubt that you’d survive it.”

Like that? That’s not cute or arousing in any way.

“That your body is betraying you in other ways. That I can smell you, Little Osha, and I'm thinking about drinking the sweet nectar you're making for me straight from the fucking cup.”

I do also think the smut was just not for me in this book, as a general rule, I did find it very cringe. Case in point ^

A FUNNY INTERLUDE:

—a look of rye amusement on his irritatingly handsome face.

LMAO this was meant to be wry, I assume? There were a few instances like this throughout the book, as well as typos and missing punctuation. Which, we’re all human, I get it, but it kind of annoys me a little when this was picked up for trad pub, pulled from KU (I bought it—twice!) and has since gotten a million dollar Netflix deal. Please, if we’re going to be doing that, the publishing house needs to edit the damn book. Honestly? I think it could have done with 200-300 less pages. A developmental edit was needed, let alone a final edit.

Anyway. Onwards.

So they make a blood pact, in which she agrees to basically do whatever the fuck he says, which is...tired. I'm tired. The book is tired. We're all a little tired here.

Kingfisher held out his hand and pulled me to my feet, making a derisive sound when he saw the cut I'd inflicted upon myself. “Baby.”

It’s just...this utter derision he has for her, his supposed (spoiler alert!) fated mate, that just gives me the ick.

Then there's this:

Kingfisher stunned me to silence when he dropped to his knees and started picking up the shards of broken cup. “It's all right, Archer. Hush, it's all right.”

Ok, this here is the first indication we get that he can be a decent person, and it’s not with her, it’s with some random character we’ve just met. Do I grow to like Archer? Sure, but right now I don’t know him from Adam, all this scene tells me is that Fisher is capable of respect and kindness, just not with Saeris. Be so for fucking real right now, that does not make you want to root for them. If this were your bestie you’d be screaming for them to run. This is the crux of it all. We had to get like 300 pages into this book for there to be a single hint of redemption in him and to me that's bad technique.

Clearly everyone else disagrees since they're out there praising it, but I've nearly DNF'd so many times by now, because you're 👏 not 👏 giving 👏 me 👏 crumbs. Please, give the reader something! It's all well and good for people to be out here going "well he's like that for a reason" (spoiler alert: the reason sucks, it's just the cliché 'I wanted to push her away for her own safety) but his reasoning means shit if people lose interest and don't get far enough to find out what it even is.

Note: by 'people' I mean the rest of the internet, not anyone here specifically, but since a few of you have said the same, just know that's a generalisation and I still love you! But I fear my point stands, his change of heart/any indication of kindness comes too late in the game for it to be an effective character arc (more on this later!!)

Anywho—

I shouldn't have moaned. I definitely shouldn't have told him that I wanted him. For the love of all the gods in all the heavens, why had I said that? I was going to throw up.

Same babe. Why did you? Why do you?

I couldn't believe we'd finally arrived here.

Me either!! 56% of the way in! We've basically done absolutely nothing but wander around and talk about how hot and mean he is for 300 pages but finally you're...doing things...with him 😬

Every part of me wanted to scramble from the bed and bolt for the door, but I knew that would be folly. Just like a hell cat, Fisher would give chase.

So terrified every part of you wants to bolt for the door...charming. Very hot. Love that for you.

“I could probably use a sho—” “Do not fucking dare finish that sentence,” he snarled. “I don't want a mouthful of soap and perfume. I want to taste you.”

Shower. She was going to say shower.

Another note, because I'm incapable of not shouting this from the rooftops when the occasion arises—vaginas are self-cleaning, there should be no soap or perfume going in there! You would have tasted her anyway you dumbass. You'd think he'd know that, given he's supposedly been in more of them than your local gynaecologist.

“And we can’t lie.”

*deep breaths* since WHEN? And that only makes it worse??

I'd imagined the words. Fabricated them out of thin air and somehow played them aloud in my own head in his voice.

Oh, hey Violet, how did you get here?

So anyway, then we enter the final conflict? Confrontation? Where she needs to go and save her newfound mate from under the mountain the bad guy's place! (oh and there's vampires, did I mention that before? No? Well there is now).

Anyway, turns out Rhysand Kingfisher was trapped there for 110 years with big bad Malcolm, who it's implied sexually assaulted him during that time, but we never address that. Why? Well this is romantasy and we only have six-hundred pages, why would we? Just throw traumatic experiences in there for the sake of it, why not?

Anyway—

“That's right. Fifty-five. He spent the next eight years trying to find the coin once he reached the center, didn't you, my love?”

I'm?????

55+8=63... what happened to the other 47 years? Guys? I'm????

Whatever, who cares about math! We're on the escape until—WOAH.

“It can't see or hear you. It tracks movement.”

Don't panic, don't panic, we all know how to defeat the middengard wyrm whatever that thing is! And we do. But not really, because everything in this maze regenerates, just like romantasy plotlines.

More fighting, more evil villain monologuing, etc.

THEN Saeris has to go and find a coin to break the blood oath Kingfisher made with big-bad, even though big-bad said he broke it himself five minutes ago during his evil monologue in order to make Fishie confess to...things.

“I release you from your oath to us, Kingfisher, Bane of Gillethrye. Now, go on. Tell your friends all about the deal you struck with us all those years ago.”

But no matter, we're off to find a coin and no worries, we've got that down! Of course in the process Feyre Saeris dies and gets brought back to life again as an all powerful fae/vampire queen hybrid. WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT?

Not me, even I couldn't have predicted that double-doozy. Probably this guy though:

Zareth. God of Chaos.

Which? NO. Nope. No. Too late. FAR too late in the game for this. I'm out.

The way we went through so many boring pages of nothingness to this in the last 20% is truly something.

OK! SIDE CHARACTERS:

Danya was a complete and total waste of everyone's time, she existed only to be the bitchy, elitist mean girl side character who was mean to poor Saeris and occassionally made her jealous. This one-dimensional treatment of female characters grinds my gears. Even Everlayne, Kingfisher's sister was entirely useless, making Saeris the special female unicorn. Pretty sure this book fails the Bechdel test.

Ren was nice, I liked him, poor long-suffering man that he was.

Lorreth. Man, y'all can't shut up about Carrion and you're really sleeping on Lorreth. This man saved me from DNF'ing, he was fantastic. Put some respect on his name! 10/10 no notes. The guy you'd actually want to get with if this book were real.

He'd still looked dumbstruck as he headed off in the direction of his tent, cradling Avisiéth like a baby in his arms.

Carrion. CARRION. Ok straight up...is that really a word we want to be using as a name? Really? Is it relevant? Like did we do that on purpose because he somehow reflects roadkill? I figured we'd find out, but NOPE 💀

Who fucking knows at this point though whether it is his name. I doubt it, given Kingfisher's name is apparently not Kingfisher either. Personally though I still think that should have been addressed in the book. It's over 200k words, you can tell us why certain nicknames exist.

The thief held up his hands. “You're right. I apologize. I'm just a little on edge right now. I'm not my best self.”

Hilarious, there to cause trouble most of the time, 10/10, almost no notes.

“Are you going to tell me about my parents, or are you going to start undressing each other? Because I can leave. I don't have to, but I can,” Carrion said.

Except the part where he turns out to be a thousand-year-old fae too and a secret, mystery, vampire-killing-prince dude or whatever, there's a note about that and how it's kinda unnecessary to drop in the final 5%. Was it foreshadowed? Not effectively, no. Also Carrion Daianthus? Roadkill, crows, and...pink flowers? Yeah. That's him. That's the one 💀

Onyx. Token wild animal taken in as pet/familiar trope. She can have this one. He's cute.

Elroy. Dude's definitely going to become important again. How much do we wanna bet he's Fisher's dad? Anyone?

Anyway, this was wildly chaotic and I don't really feel bad about it because so was this book. It started out well in the first 5-10%. It was a slog to read between the 10% mark and 60%. Honestly, it only got better once they'd fucked for the first time, which was because Kingfisher's character did a 180 overnight with a big fat handwavey motion, like our FMC's magic coochie cured him of his violent tendencies. Like not to be crude, but I'm not sure there's any other way of putting it.

I think it's just not a great book, which I also think is a shame because the world is interesting, I loved the parts of alchemy we got (which weren't enough, imo) and the swords, the magic, the portals, the quicksilver, etc. I think it had so much potential and that's ultimately why it also bothers me so much as well. It feels squandered through a lack of refinement and editing.

Will I read the next one? Maybe. I'll let someone else take the hit first and see if it's any better paced this.

This has gone on long enough lmao, so I'll just leave you with one last quote that I think really sums up this book so, so much:

“Not that. The brother part,” she said in a loud whisper. “That’s not common knowledge?” “Well, yes. And no. It's just not spoken about. And it's very, very complicated.”

Yeah...

[noirsdoll]

-> delayed gratification

pairing: jimmy x gf!reader

words: 1.3k

cw: necrophilia, gore/mutilation, implied snuff, referenced abusive relationship, oral sex, missionary, dead dove do not eat

notes: wanted to try something new!! jimmy takes you out back and buries you… while having some fun of his own

read it on ao3

Scarlet splatters over your skin like a fresh Jackson Pollock. Jimmy smears a big glob of it with his thumb, ruining his masterpiece and feeling all the better for it. 

It’s hard to ruin what’s already laying in disrepair, limbs contorted at odd angles like you’re a Barbie doll that’s been long forgotten about. Ivory bone bursts through flesh like a parasitic birth, red meat still drips that sickly-sweet juice. A delicacy, where he’s from. The taste of iron darkens on his tongue. 

It brings him pride, seeing you like this. Eroded and constricted, swallowed whole and forced to suffocate along the way. You knew what you were getting into, it’s hard not to look both ways before jumping off a cliff. 

He’s such a bad, horrible thing. If he says it himself it negates the responsibility. If he says it to you it’s an admittance, an apology. You’re red and everything else is green— Merry Christmas to him, he guesses. He’s still got one last gift he’s saving for you. 

Your skull’s hollow when he knocks you around. Your head thumps against the thick grass. Not a word out of you, bloody mouth and an even bloodier neck. Red crescents dug into your skin, your flesh purple and muddied. He nudges your stomach with the toe of his boot and you flop onto your back, your eyes glazed over, losing their spark like wet kindling. 

Thick trees surround him like four walls that are closing in. He knows better than to pay it any mind. You gaze up at the stars, the night sky. He digs and digs, staring at you, through you, what’s left of you. Sometimes he wonders if he should have stopped, if stopping is what would have made it all okay. 

Then a part of him— the right part— gets a kick out of seeing you like this. Defeated, reduced, broken farther than you could ever get yourself. He poured an accelerator over your matchstick and watched you burn up. 

It’s his own form of entertainment— taking someone’s shitty life and making it even shittier. It’s his specialty, his service to you, the one you paid for with dividends. This was the final result, there was no other option. Did you think he would change? That the right words or the right position would shift that innate urge inside him to beat you bloody?

People like him don’t change. They sit and they dwell and they rot and they lash out at anything like an angry whip. 

He plants two hands on your side and tries to slide you into his makeshift hole that isn’t even deep enough to qualify as a kiddie pool. You don’t move, unfortunately. He’d put his back into it, but that’s work and Jimmy has half a mind to just leave you here and let someone else do the rest. 

Even in the afterlife, you’re still being a nuisance to him. In your glory days you were still never good for more than cheap fuck and a baggie he could slide out of your purse when you weren’t looking. Your tits were decent at least. Actually, your tits are still decent now, greyed out from the lack of blood but still there, not yet rotting and— Jimmy has stumbled onto his greatest slippery slope yet. 

Looking around like there could possibly be someone else in these woods, his hand slinks down and underneath the worn sleep shirt that you were wearing when he… yeah. You’re too cold and it’s more like groping a frozen silicone doll than an actual girl. 

His hand delves lower, deeper— and he’s not sure what he was expecting, but you’re drier than the Sahara, pussy lips stiff like old lunch meat but he can do whatever he wants to now. Even more so than he already has.

A part of it is curiosity. Maybe he’ll have timed it perfectly for rigor mortis to come squeeze him tight— if that’s even how it works. He didn’t pass biology in school, or any course for that matter. More about stringing himself along and wading in his swamp of a life till he made it to shore.

Anyway, it’s time for your gift. He bets you’re thanking him for this in the afterlife. There’s something cruel about not letting you actually get to experience this, the one thing you’ve begged him for.

Jimmy gets in between your legs like muscle memory, lowering his face to your cunt— no longer flush with life but rather blending in with the dead leaves around you. He spits on his fingers and tries to slide in, frowning as your cunt stays sealed like an iron door, forcing him out.

Sighing, he spits on your cunt, the glob hits your clit and you lay there unaffected. Jimmy leans down and slips his tongue into you, prepping your insides so his dick doesn’t get rug burn.

It’s an odd experience and Jimmy wonders how you would be reacting right now if you could. He’s attentive, circling your soft clit and running his tongue along your walls. It doesn’t taste… bad. The existing flavour of iron sinks its barbs into his throat, refusing to leave.

Deciding you’re wet enough, he tugs down his pants and jerks his semi a couple of times as he stares at you. He’s seen videos of dead girls getting fucked before, a lot of them. Always in the woods, always by guys in masks with blood-slicked dicks. He wonders what colour your blood would be now if he tore you— if it still be that same startling scarlet that it was when he made his mark. 

One hand grabs your shredded throat, the blood is cold and sticky on his palm. Jimmy holds you down like you could possibly run away. His tip pops into your cunt with a bit more work than he’d like but fuck you’re tight. 

He groans out into the quiet, digging his nails into your throat, it gives like thick gelatin. Jimmy thrusts in and out as you gaze up at the sky. You look too fucking tranquil— you don’t deserve that. He digs the thumb of his free hand into your eye till it pops like a grape. Yellowed liquid leaks down the side of your face like cataract tears. There, you’re crying now. 

Jimmy wipes his finger on your shirt with a grimace, fucking you faster cuz his balls are getting cold. His dick’s mean, pushing hard against your cervix but you can’t fucking wail about it like you usually do. 

His hips twitch as he starts to get into it, huffing and moaning. Your pussy’s better like this, as a ragdoll hole that’s too fleshy to be a toy and too cold to be alive. Jimmy might get out his pocket knife and keep that part of you for himself as a personalized fleshlight. Too messy, unfortunately. 

Jimmy’s fucking without a care in the world for how it’s disfiguring you. You’re a heap of flesh already and the last person who’ll ever see you is him anyway. No one’s here to do an autopsy on your exposed trachea and how your arm is fractured in three different spots, how he kicked your stomach in for so long that it’s a completely different shade than the rest of you. The rage got to him, it always does. Especially after all that bitching and moaning that you’re known for. 

Dirt is soiling his pants as he feels his stomach winding tight. He pulls out, spurting cum all over your corpse, covering you in watery ropes. This might be the best you’ve ever looked— completely defiled. 

Jimmy does up his pants and gets to feet. He kicks your body into the shitty hole he made and you roll into it with a thud. Stretching his back, he picks up the shovel and covers you up. 

No one’s gonna find you. Better yet— no one’s gonna miss you. 

[deliciousangelfestival]

Let's Play Pretend - 4 | bodyguard!Bucky

Character: Bucky Barnes x singer! Female reader

Summary: You just wanted to hide here and find peace from the mess that wasn’t caused by you. But then, your hot neighbor bothered you. As if that wasn’t enough, the enemies you hated found you too.

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , -

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

A few days ago, you heard the news that your former manager had died. And today, you found out your ex-fiancé was dead too.

What the fuck is going on?

You had just attended one funeral, and now you were going to another.

With a deep breath, you opened your wardrobe, reaching for something black to wear. Your fingers brushed against a thick jacket, and for a moment, you froze. Jack’s jacket.

He had given it to you on a cold night when you had been shivering after a performance, dressed in nothing but thin stage clothes. “My dear is trembling like a cat. Here.” He had taken off his jacket and wrapped it around you. Since then, you have kept it, carried it with you, even after everything that happened.

You and Jack had started together, two newcomers struggling in the same agency. He had been humble, funny, and caring—someone you could rely on. Who wouldn’t fall in love with a man like that?

But as his career skyrocketed and he surrounded himself with the wrong people, he changed. The warmth he once had faded, replaced by arrogance, recklessness, and lies.

Still, you had held on, believing—hoping—that the man you once loved would return. That he would snap out of it, remember who he was before the fame. But waiting was useless. Instead of giving you the love you wanted, he cheated. He spiraled into drugs.

That was your breaking point. That was when you finally walked away.

You had hated him for it. But now…

Now, he was dead.

Tears welled up before you even realized it. You hated crying over him, hated that he still had that power over you. But love, anger, regret—they all blurred together into something you couldn’t control.

A knock on the door pulled you out of it. You quickly wiped your face, but it was too late.

Bucky stepped inside, his eyes immediately narrowing. “Why are you crying?”

You swallowed hard, your voice hoarse. “My ex-fiancé just died.”

Bucky tilted his head, unfazed. “Huh. I’ve seen people die right in front of me more times than I can count.” He shrugged like it was nothing. “Didn’t cry once.”

You blinked, staring at him in disbelief. “You—” Words failed you. “Unbelievable.”

Whatever grief you had been drowning in evaporated, replaced with sheer frustration. His complete lack of empathy made you want to scream.

Bucky, of course, seemed pleased with himself. He leaned against the doorframe, watching you with that infuriatingly amused expression. Then, as if piecing something together, his smirk faded just slightly. "Something doesn't add up."

You frowned. "What do you mean?"

He crossed his arms. "Your manager died. Now your ex-fiancé. Within days of each other. That’s not just bad luck, sweetheart."

Your stomach twisted. You hadn’t thought about it that way.

Bucky sighed dramatically, as if he were about to deliver bad news but couldn’t quite bring himself to be serious about it. "Prepare yourself. A detective will probably drop by soon with questions."

Your heart dropped. “Why? I didn’t do anything.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He gestured vaguely. “Two people close to you died back-to-back. That raises eyebrows.”

You exhaled, feeling drained. Another chapter of your life unfolding—one you hadn’t asked for, one you weren’t ready for.

Bucky, on the other hand, grinned like he was actually enjoying this. “This is getting interesting.”

You shot him a glare. “Glad you’re entertained.”

He winked. “I always am.”

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

Jack’s Funeral

The moment you stepped inside, the room fell silent.

All eyes turned toward you—the ex-fiancée of the deceased—arriving at his funeral with another man.

Whispers rippled through the mourners, hushed yet sharp, like knives sliding between ribs. You could feel their judgment pressing against your skin, suffocating. Some stared in curiosity, others in barely concealed disdain.

You kept your head high, gripping the strap of your purse a little tighter.

Bucky, on the other hand, looked completely unbothered. If anything, he seemed to enjoy the attention. With his hands tucked casually in his pockets, he leaned toward you and muttered, "Quite the audience. Should I give a speech?"

You elbowed him in the ribs. "Not the time, Barnes."

He chuckled but didn’t push further.

You approached Jack’s family, offering your condolences, but his mother barely acknowledged you. Grief lined her face, her hands gripping a tissue tightly as if it were the only thing holding her together.

You didn’t blame her for the cold reception. After all, you had left Jack long before his downward spiral. To them, you had abandoned him.

But even as you tried to pay your respects, the weight of their stares never lifted.

Outside the Funeral

The moment you and Bucky stepped outside, fresh air filled your lungs. You inhaled deeply, trying to shake off the tension lingering from inside.

Before you could reach your car, two men in dark suits approached.

Detectives.

Your stomach tightened.

Bucky sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Took them long enough."

One of the detectives, a man with graying hair and sharp eyes, pulled out a notepad. "Miss, we’d like to ask you a few questions regarding Mr. Lancaster’s death."

You straightened your posture. "Of course."

"Where were you last night?"

"At my apartment," you answered. "With him." You tilted your head toward Bucky.

The other detective, a younger man with glasses, glanced between you and Bucky. "May I ask the nature of your relationship?"

Before you could speak, Bucky did.

“Her boyfriend.” His voice was smooth, confident. “Both of us were together last night.”

Then, without warning, he reached over and tugged the neckline of your dress down just enough to expose your collarbone.

Your breath hitched. “Bucky, what the hell—”

"Is this enough proof?" he asked nonchalantly.

The two detectives instantly flushed, looking away in embarrassment. You, meanwhile, had no idea what they were even looking at—until they mumbled a hasty, "We’ll keep in touch, Miss."

As they walked away, you caught a murmur between them.

"Celebrities… It’s easy for them to find new sex partners."

Your jaw clenched.

Once inside the car, you yanked down the sun visor, flipped open the mirror, and turned on your phone’s front camera. The second you saw your reflection, your eyes widened.

“BUCKY!”

He smirked, leaning back in his seat. "Not loud enough."

You pointed furiously at your collarbone. "What the hell is this?! It looks like a hickey! How did you even—?"

With an innocent expression, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small tube.

Your red lipstick.

Your glare intensified. "How the fuck did you even get that?!"

Bucky twirled it between his fingers. "I have my ways." Then he winked. "Consider it a little magic trick."

You wanted to be mad—really, you did—but you couldn’t deny that his ridiculous stunt had shut down the detectives’ questioning. With an exhausted sigh, you muttered, "Thanks."

“You’re welcome.” His grin widened.

Then, just as you thought the conversation was over, he casually added, “He should’ve gotten an autopsy.”

Your brows furrowed. "You mean Jack?"

He nodded, tapping his fingers against the dashboard.

"His parents don’t want one."

Bucky scoffed. "Their loss."

Something about his tone sent a chill down your spine.

🥀🥀🥀🥀

The weight of the day pressed down on you the moment you stepped into your apartment. Exhaustion clung to your bones, and all you wanted was to shut your eyes and escape reality—if only for a little while.

You kicked off your shoes, exhaling as you rubbed your temples. The apartment was quiet, exactly as you’d left it. Nothing seemed out of place.

Until you noticed your bedroom door.

It was slightly open.

Your stomach clenched. You were sure you had closed it before leaving.

Shaking off the unease creeping up your spine, you pushed the door open—

And screamed.

"Kyaaaa!!!"

Heavy footsteps thundered down the hall. Before you could blink, Bucky was at your side, his hand instinctively reaching for his gun.

Then he saw it.

Your room was a disaster.

Pillows lay shredded across the floor, their stuffing torn apart as if slashed by a knife. Your blankets were in a heap, the furniture overturned. But the most terrifying sight was the red—splattered across the walls, the bed, the floor.

It looked like blood.

But the worst part?

A knife. Stabbed straight through a framed photo of you.

A chill spread through your veins. You clutched Bucky’s arm, your fingers digging into his sleeve.

He didn’t flinch.

Bucky stepped forward, calm and deliberate, his sharp eyes scanning the wreckage. Crouching down, he touched the red stain smeared across your dresser. He rubbed it between his fingers, then smirked.

"It’s ink."

You swallowed hard, your voice barely a whisper. "Who… who did this?"

Bucky straightened, glancing at the knife in your photo before turning to you.

"I had a feeling something was missing from this puzzle," he murmured while looking at you. Then his smirk deepened, his gaze dark with intrigue. "But now? I think I just found the most important piece."

Your stomach twisted. "Me?"

He nodded slowly, watching you with amusement.

"Congratulations, sweetheart. You’re officially the main event."

Your heart pounded, fear clawing at your throat. But Bucky?

Bucky looked entertained.

Like he was just getting started.

Seeing him get excited over this made you wonder, Mrs. Walls, what kind of neighbor did you have?

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If you enjoy my stories, feel free to check out my masterlist. I’ve also written some original works that you might find interesting.

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Arrogant Ex-Husband: A novella.

Link:

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Dad, I Can’t Let You Go: A short poetry collection.

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[ravewulf]

I was thinking about the fact Tyler Hoechlin was told that Derek had only ever slept with Kate right before he was about to film the scene where Derek and Jennifer sleep together for the first time.

Where did we get this info? It's also incorrect because Derek did have sex after Kate and before Jennifer.

Eli was 15 in 2026, meaning he was born sometime before Fall 2011 (start of the school year). Wind the clock back another 9 months and Derek had to have had sex with someone in 2010 before season 1 (season 1 started in January 2011).

(I have a headcanon that he also got into New York's gay club and/or kink scene since Jeff mentioned Derek going to Splash Bar, but that's a headcanon and apocrypha respectively, not canon)

That's enormously important information that he needed to know for his performance and not letting him know earlier than that was incredibly disrespectful.

If Hoechlin was told this (and I do not know if he was), you're correct on the first part but way off base on the second. Acting is a job, they tell him what he needs to know when he needs to know it. That is not a sign of disrespect.

In this case, they needed him to act as if it was the first time since Kate (even though it wasn't) because Jennifer was using the power of the virgin sacrifices to magically influence him. They may not have come out and said it like that because that knowledge would also have an impact on his performance, potentially making it less genuine if he knew Derek was being manipulated.

(He also said he knew the thumb hole shirt was totally wrong for Derek, but at that point he was so tired of fighting TPTB for character consistency that he just gave up in that instance.)

Source for this? And how is the thumb hole sweater wrong for Derek? I love Hoechlin, but the writers have the final say as far as what is "right" for a character (though we can always disagree with them, and I have on other decisions they've made). Derek has a soft side and we see more of that during 3B (getting candy and scaring kids on Halloween, etc).

On the other hand, Derek was possessed by the Nogitsune's fly at the time and it's a different outfit than he was wearing when the fly crawled into his wound back at the loft, so it could be chalked up to that if you don't think it fits Derek's character.

After Kate and Jennifer a part of Derek must have expected Braeden to try and kill him too, and when she didn't I can see him imprinting on her like a baby bird. His parents had a good marriage, and that was something he always wanted and expected he would have too. That is one of the reasons Kate was able to con him. It wasn't just sex and teen hormones for him.

Correct about what Derek expected, to some degree, as he's had pretty shitty luck there, but he absolutely did not "imprint" on Braeden.

The part about Derek's parents is completely made up. There's absolutely nothing about that in the show. If Hoechlin has a headcanon about it, then that's cool but it isn't any more or less valid than a headcanon you or I could come up with. Canon is strictly what happens in the show, nothing else.

Whatever his parent's marriage was like, it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. Talia did some pretty fucked up things to Derek (manipulating his memories), Peter (manipulating his memories, ignoring his warning about the Argents, taking Malia from him), and Corinne (forcing her to carry Malia to term/making her lose her powers). Derek's dad isn't mentioned and we don't see him, so he may not have been in the picture at all. Peter is the one who helped raise/train Derek, for better or worse.

Kate was able to get to Derek because it happened not long after he had to mercy-kill Paige, which left him in an extremely vulnerable state. (The Paige incident was in Derek's Sophomore year, according to Peter, which puts Derek at 15 in Fall 2004. He'd turn 16 in November, then the Hale Fire happened in January 2005).

Braeden on the other hand, thought they were just friends with benefits. She did not want a serious relationship, and broke up with him when she found out he did.

Derek knew from the start that it was only a casual relationship. He saw her looking him up and down as a sex object back when she rescued him and Peter in 3B.

Most importantly, Braeden didn't break up with Derek, it's the other way around. Derek implicitly broke up with her in the season 4 finale when he rejected her guns. That final kiss they shared was a kiss goodbye, ending their relationship before they headed off on a rescue mission he didn't expect to survive.

He broke it off partly because she didn't understand him as a person. While he was losing his werewolf abilities, she made assumptions that it was about power/what he can do in a fight. He tried to correct her that it's not about power, it's about being a werewolf in addition to being able to protect people. The enhanced senses and every other part of it, not just what can be used as a weapon. It's who he is and a critical part of his identity. Some more reading on this here

It was still a good relationship for Derek, proving that not everyone he gets involved with has to betray him and/or die, and helped him overcome what Kate did to him so he could stand over Kate, proud and unashamed, later that episode. It's also something that may have helped with his evolution into the full wolf form.

As for Cora, Derek and Peter took her back to South America as Beacon Hills wasn't safe. (but the real reason is Adelaide Kane left to play Mary, Queen of Scots, in Reign)

I was thinking about the fact Tyler Hoechlin was told that Derek had only ever slept with Kate right before he was about to film the scene where Derek and Jennifer sleep together for the first time. That's enormously important information that he needed to know for his performance, and not letting him know earlier than that was incredibly disrespectful. (He also said he knew the thumb hole shirt was totally wrong for Derek, but at that point he was so tired of fighting TPTB for character consistency that he just gave up in that instance.)

After Kate and Jennifer a part of Derek must have expected Braeden to try and kill him too, and when she didn't I can see him imprinting on her like a baby bird. His parents had a good marriage, and that was something he always wanted and expected he would have too. That is one of the reasons Kate was able to con him. It wasn't just sex and teen hormones for him.

Braeden on the other hand, thought they were just friends with benefits. She did not want a serious relationship, and broke up with him when she found out he did.

Leaving Derek alone again.

(Are we ever given a reason for Cora going away? What if she found out about Kate and Derek, and blamed him for what happened? Even though it wasn't his fault, and he was the victim.)

By the time Derek and Stiles become a couple, they bicker as usual, but angry, yelling, fights are actually rare. The first time Stiles slams out of their place to cool off, Derek thinks it's over, that Stiles has left him because that's what always happens to him. He doesn't deserve Stiles anyway. It was only a matter of time until Stiles realized that.

When Stiles comes back hours later, he finds Derek curled up in the corner in the dark. He's stunned when Derek quietly says he'll pack up his stuff tomorrow. Stiles can have the house.

They talk, and after Stiles reassures Derek that this is it for him, he's not going anywhere, they eventually lay down some mutually agreed to ground rules. (Derek leaves when he's upset too, but he always says he's going for a run, and that he'll be back. He normally does it when he's feeling emotionally overwhelmed and scared rather than angry though.) The next time Stiles storms off, he pauses at the door to add, "I love you. I'll be back." Sometimes he even shouts it, but he always says it.

Luckily they know each other well enough by the time they get together that those instances really are unusual though, and they talk things out. Sometimes snarkily, but they talk, even when it's hard.

It takes time, but Derek eventually believes deep down that he's not alone anymore. :)

[willowlevulett]

Punk Divorce Era Jayvik teaser.

This AU slams Jayce and Viktor into my particular taste of West Coast punk. A teeny tiny Jayvik interaction plus some angst.

Vi is one of my favorite characters, so I also added an excerpt that I have written of Jayce and her. I think they would've been lovely friends so that will be reflected in this fic.

-

"What happened to your leg, Jayce." It was unfair of him to keep saying his name. Especially like that, saying it like he always used to.

"I fell."

"You fell." Viktor says the words as if tasting them, 'fell' rolling around on his tongue.

"Yes, fell. My altitude rapidly changed. An unconsented descent" Jayce brings up his hand above his head and gestures sharply downwards to belabor his point. He realizes too late that he's trying to get Viktor to laugh, like he used to. To get Viktor to scoff at any old ridiculous thing Jayce was doing at the time, his eyes alight with a smile all the same. But it's all wrong. It's been 5 years since they've seen each other, his tone is too harsh, and Viktor only looks annoyed.

The corspe of who Jayce once was rolls over in its grave. The man who survived stares hollowly forward.

-

Viktor is visibly trying to reign his emotions in. Jayce bets that the temptation of learning what happened to crack him down the center is enough to stay his tongue. For now.

Jayce takes the opportunity to drink him in. People like them tend to change visually faster than others, so he catalogs all the ways Viktor now differs from his memory of him. He has an eyebrow piercing on top of the new throat tattoo. Jayce can see the same tattoo lines that cover his back now lick up and over his shoulders. He now wears simple smoked out eyeliner. His clothes are still earthy tones with a splash of red but he now wears purple. It weaves through his outfit. A little in the bandana tucked in his back pocket. A lot in the array of earrings and rings that decorate him. Some in the eye shadow he smoked out his water line with.

He wants to say that Viktor looks good. Jayce stays silent.

-

Before he can reach the blessed front door, a hand grips his shoulder and yanks him to a stop.

"Viktor, I can't -"

"What are you doing here, pretty boy?"

The playful blue of Vi's eyes comes into view instead of the heated gold he expected.

"Oh god, Vi" He pulls her in for a brisk, tight hug. He can feel her muscles tense under her leather jacket. He takes a moment to inspect her face. She has a new scar just under her eye, cutting across the roman numerals there. There's three more piercings tucked into her left ear. She's favoring her left side like she always has, but it's not any worse than last he saw her.

"You look good."

"Ah, you're looking pretty good yourself. The haunted look, suits you. Rugged." She emphasizes the last word by planting her hands on his shoulders and giving him a small, rough shake. One of her hands then moves to tug on the long hair that hangs over his forehead now.

"The old you would've fucking hated this."

Jayce huffs a laugh. "That's the point."

Vi gives him a strange look at that. She simply stares at him for a long moment, the pulsing music of the grungy punk band on stage washing over them both. Whatever she finds in his eyes in the low light makes her scrunch her nose. Before Jayce can offer a platitude, she pulls him forward into another hug, this time threading her strong hand into the locks at the nape of his neck.

They figured out early on in their friendship that they both craved touch beyond normal people required. When he was younger, Jayce couldn't help himself. He would reach out and clasp his hands on shoulders, lean down into someone's space while they talked, drag his hand down their arm while pulling away from a hug. Vi on the other hand, tends to suffer in silence. Every part of her begs for touch, but she only touches those who work for it. But once you've earned it, once the dam is broken, you are awash with the joy that is Vi's sturdy touch.

He realizes all at once he has missed her terribly. He collapses into her arms and buries his head into her shoulder. She still smells like motor oil and cigarette smoke. He can feel a rumble of her saying something where their chests touch but he can't hear it over his desperate attempt to not burst into tears and the crashing crescendo of the music. He pulls away before this can get much worse for him.

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

Blurb Countdown To Daredevil: Born Again

1 Day: I Know The End -Phoebe Bridgers "either way, we're not alone/i'll find a new place to be from." SFW Matt finds you on the floor of the kitchen and the two of you talk. note: alright guys, here it is! one last blurb. i'm gonna tell y'all a quick story: for a number of years (an embarrassingly long time) i was in a bad relationship, and eventually, it was over and i was left with no interests of my own. for months, i floated around, not seriously interested in anything. and then, right before i started college, i watched daredevil. and suddenly, for the first time in years, i felt like myself again, because there was an interest i had, and it was mine, and now i have a daredevil tattoo and am gonna go to law school, so. i kinda owe my entire life to this show and whatever happens tomorrow, i will continue to love this show, and i dont know, i guess this is just a love letter to my anxiety about born again and to everyone who's ever read a fic of mine (because all i ever wanted was for someone to read the stuff i write) and uh,, yeah. happy one day until daredevil: born again !!!! see you guys on the other side :) countdown masterlist

You’ve found yourself here before.

Sitting on a cold floor, the night quiet. There’s just you, and the sound of the shower running from the other room.

Your fingers drum against the tiles, a nervous tic you’ve found yourself doing ever since you were young.

You’re all alone in this kitchen. You study every last inch of it, like you’ll never see it again. Your heartbeat is loud, thumping against your chest, erratic, like something is wrong.

Is something wrong?

You close your eyes, trying to focus. Breath, you tell yourself. Nothing is wrong. Is something wrong?

You barely hear the footsteps before you feel the warmth next to you.

You open your eyes and there’s Matt. He looks perfect.

You tilt your head.

He looks.. different.

Older.

You smile.

“Now, what’re we doing on the floor at this hour, sweetheart?” He wonders.

The words tumble out of your mouth before you can think about them,

“I missed you.”

He smiles gently. His hair is still damp from the shower. So is his beard. He wears this old Columbia crewneck and his boxer briefs. His knees are covered in icy hot. His knees are not what they were ten years ago.

“I missed you too.” He tilts his head, “Why are you so anxious?”

You just look at him for a good, long while. You’re thinking. You’re thinking about him, thinking about how much you love him, thinking about how much he’s done for you.

“I don’t know,” You breathe, ��I just.. have this really distinct feeling that after tomorrow, nothings going to be the same.” You confess. And you have no idea why.

Matt’s hand finds yours.

“I’ll still be here.”

You smile.

“I know.” You sigh, unable to shake this feeling. “I’m just trying to enjoy the quiet before the storm.”

Matt’s not even sure there will be a storm, since tomorrows supposed to be a normal day—

He’ll go into the office, with Foggy and Karen. Maybe they’ll go to Josie’s together, and everything will be fine.

So why do you feel this overwhelming dread?

Because what if it’s wonderful? What if it’s the best day of your life?

“I’ll be here no matter what happens,” And a part of you knows he’s just trying to comfort you, that he has it under good authority that nothing bad will happen, and that he’ll still be here after tomorrow, even if you feel like everything is going to come crashing down.

“I love you.” You breathe, resting your head on his shoulder. Your hand finds his, lacing your fingers together.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” He answers instantly, because loving you is like breathing to him.

Silence falls over the two of you like a warm blanket.

“What’re we gonna do if tomorrow is the end of the world?” You wonder, partially because you’re still worried and partially because you’re just curious about what he’ll answer.

“I think we should fuck.” And it makes you laugh, and he starts to laugh too, “No, I’m serious!”

“You’re ridiculous, that’s what you are.”

“Oh yeah?” He grins, and then his hands are on your hips as you yell out a, ‘Matthew!’, and suddenly you’re sitting on his lap as he leans against the kitchen cabinets. “Maybe its just you. You drive me crazy.”

You roll your eyes.

“Stop flirting with me just because I’m anxious.”

“I’m not flirting with you just because you’re anxious,” He smirks, “I’m flirting with you because you’re pretty.”

“Not because I’m anxious?”

“No,” He shakes his head, “I have you sitting on my lap because you’re anxious,” He hums.

“I thought you had me on your lap because you think I’m pretty,”

“You’re overthinking this.” He says, his hand coming up to brush some hair from your face, “And I don’t ‘think’ you’re pretty, you are pretty.” He reminds.

“You don’t have to flirt me,” You tell him, “You already have me.”

He shrugs.

“I like flirting with you,” He hums, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

You kiss back, because just for a moment, your brain quiets.

What were you even worried about?

[xtiredbansheex]

Have some of my Liu and Jeff (and sully) Headcanons + a Sketch I'm working on coloring

Lugh (Liu) Woods

-Twins with Jeff

-In my "AU" Jeff and Liu are IRISH, moved to the USA when they were 10 years of age.

-They(him and jeff) are currently 23

-Liu still retains the Belfast accent whereas with Jeff he tends to repress it. ( sounds like a fucking idiot doing so )

-Very sweet and kind, tends to take part in a lot of soft comforting activities like knitting, crochet,, etc. etc.

-Really enjoys Ireland and its culture ( misses home) , can speak Gaeilge, but chooses only to speak it to jeff when they want to have private conversations ( jeff pretends he doesn't understand what Liu is saying)

-however due to bullying he stopped spelling his name as Lugh and changed it to Liu cause Jeff pressured him into

-Bisexual

Sully

-Not an alter of DID in my AU Sully is a being of "celestial background" that came to Liu the night he was attacked by Jeff

-Sully is an Angel who was sent down to protect Liu from whatever tries to put him in harms away.

-Kind of an asshole but only because his whole thing is to "ward off evil"

-Has a slight Belfast accent only because when he speaks it IS via Liu's tongue. You can always tell when sully has taken over due to him sounding rougher .

Jeff Woods

-Ok you HAVE to hear me out he's actually NOT an asshole.

-He is Really confused and angry all the time about being bullied/their past homelife and he just has accidentally committed to unhealthy coping and he tends to take out on others, which he can SEE he's doing which in turn ,pisses him off even more which makes the cycle repeat.

-Due to him and Liu getting bullied for their accent, jeff tries his BEST to not have one or to associate with Ireland at all.

-straight

-METALHEAD (wears band tees but he doesn't listen to the bands, but pretends he does)

-Him and Liu are still VERY CLOSE , Liu forgave him after the attack. They are almost never seen without each other.

I will... Flesh these out more in the future if y'all want more...

[beef-brisket]

Adam: Yeah, babe. It's no biggie. You wanted me to drive after Lust, and I forgot about that- but not this time. You need me to fucking do this. You're welcome, by the way. Could you imagine what would have happened if you came here on your own? You would be sleeping in a ditch somewhere! Admit it, shorty, shits always better with me. About time you fucking appreciate me. I'm not just a good lay, bitch. Bet you regret not fucking me in Eden-.

Lucifer: ADAM! You're not wearing your seat belt- neither am I?! What the hell, Adam?!

Adam: Babe, we're dead- well, I'm dead, you're just whatever the fuck you are. A little crash isn't gonna do anything.

Lucifer scoffs and puts his belt on: We'll see if that opinion changes when you go flying through that window.

Adam laughed: If I had my wing's babe, I'd be fucking souring... but, I'll settle for being airborne for four and a half seconds then skidding along the asphalt. Just... if that does happen, could you, uh... get rid of your... um... you know.

Lucifer stared at Adam: What?what are you even saying right now?

Adam groaned: Take your cum out of me! If we crash- not now. Just... if. We won't, but-.

Lucifer: If. Got it... wait, you like it?

Adam blushed: Look, how about we stop talking for a while, huh? That's a good idea. Go back to sleep, babe.

Lucifer laughed: O-Oh my stars- you like being stuf-!

Adam: Belphegor's really nice! Had to meet her on my own- which I think- uh, was really great. I'm also moving bere- no, wait. To Sloth. I'm moving to Sloth. Great place. Very pink. I like pink.

Lucifer: ...You can't just change the subject, Adam.

Adam: Yes, I can! Uh... anyway. We're heading back to the hotel, unless you want to stop anywhere.

Lucifer: Hm... no, I don't think so... I had fun, you know. Despite some... heated discussions. I've enjoyed my time with you, Adam.

Adam smiled: Not surprised, babe. I'm fucjimg great, you know this. Oh, and I don't know how to get back to Pride.

Lucifer laughed: Pull over and we'll swap.

As they pulled over, Lucifer looked around. He couldn't see any fester demons around, which is a good sign.

Adam: Looks like you're about to be prompted, passenger Princess~.

Lucifer: You're a bigger princess than me, Addy~.

Destination Redemption!

@beef-brisket

Pride was one of if not the largest ring in all of Hell. So when the population of sinners started to really take a toll from the paused exterminations Lucifer had no choice but to open up the other rings to fan them out.

So for the time being until they got word back from heaven about how to handle all the sinners they were all over Hell's creation. Literally.

Charlie, wanting to redeem more sinners now that it's possible thought it would be a great idea to spread the word to the seven rings of Hell to help all of the sinners reach the pearly gates!

Lucifer: You want me to do that? But sweetie it's your hotel.

Charlie: Yes! Buuut, if you succeed in getting people to come here they'll want to meet the "big boss" of the hotel herself. Pretty good huh?

Lucifer snickered, okay that was cute.

Lucifer: Okay, I guess I can just zap-

Charlie: No! You gotta take your time dad. Do it right, use the Jeep! Please, for me?

She wants him to go on a literal road trip?

Lucifer: ..... Can I bring Adam?

Charlie: Sure! It'll be good to get him out of into the fresh air for a while!

Lucifer nodded, him and Adam have been working on their...... Friendship? Relationship? Situationship more like it but it is what it is.

He went and knocked on Adams door, the fallen angel answered.

Adam: Yeah?

Lucifer: I'm going on a road trip, wanna come with?

Adam thought for a moment: Sure, if it means I get out of here for a while.

Lucifer beamed: Great! Pack a bag and meet me in the lobby in one hour!

[aalexan]

im anab genderfluid dogself agender non binary bigender genderqueer pangender lesbian he/him it/its btw. if you even care

[dailykugisaki]

Day 156 | id in alt

MINDING MY OWN BUSINESS AND DRAWING NBMK WHEN I GET HIT WITH THE MOST RANCID EVIL BOOP. AN ILL OMEN.

[kallistersbullshit]

has anyone thought about what happens to the players PHYSICALLY when they enter the digital circus

because we know their minds are transported into the digital world, but what happens to their bodies?

they ALL put on the headset and immediately got transported inside, so I doubt they'd have time to take it off - does that mean they're still at least partially connected to their bodies, enough to stay alive but not quite conscious?

if we go off that idea, i feel like they'd just collapse on the spot when they put on the headset

imagine finding some cool headset in the back of an alley or maybe even in that C&A office with the computer and you put it on and just like faint

imagine FINDING some random mf unconscious in a sketchy place with a headset latched onto their head