#you look like someone grappling with The Horrors

[curiosity-killed]

It always kind of cracks me up when people ask what I like to write and are so shocked when horror is on that list but now I’m imagining the opposite and cracking up

[elodieunderglass]

changes and trends in horror-genre films are linked to the anxieties of the culture in its time and place. Vampires are the manifestation of grappling with sexuality; aliens, of foreign influence. Horror from the Cold War is about apathy and annihilation; classic Japanese horror is characterised by “nature’s revenge”; psychological horror plays with anxieties that absorbed its audience, like pregnancy/abortion, mental illness, femininity. Some horror presses on the bruise of being trapped in a situation with upsetting tasks to complete, especially ones that compromise you as a person - reflecting the horrors and anxieties of capitalism etc etc etc. Cosmic horror is slightly out of fashion because our culture is more comfortable with, even wistful for, “the unknown.” Monster horror now has to be aware of itself, as a contingent of people now live in the freedom and comfort of saying “I would willingly, gladly, even preferentially fuck that monster.” But I don’t know much about films or genres: that ground has been covered by cleverer people.

I don’t actually like horror or movies. What interests me at the moment is how horror of the 2020s has an element of perception and paying attention.

Multiple movies in one year discussed monsters that killed you if you perceived them. There are monsters you can’t look at; monsters that kill you instantly if you get their attention. Monsters where you have to be silent, look down, hold still: pray that they pass over you. M Zombies have changed from a hand-waved virus that covers extras in splashy gore, to insidious spores. A disaster film is called Don’t Look Up, a horror film is called Nope. Even trashy nun horror sets up strange premises of keeping your eyes fixed on something as the devil GETS you.

No idea if this is anything. (I haven’t seen any of these things because, unfortunately, I hate them.) Someone who understands better than me could say something clever here, and I hope they do.

But the thing I’m thinking about is what this will look like to the future, as the Victorian sex vampires and Cold War anxieties look to us. I think they’ll have a little sympathy, but they probably won’t. You poor little prey animals, the kids will say, you were awfully afraid of facing up to things, weren’t you?

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC "Pick Me Up"

The stream goes live on the first day of the school year. It's the usual song and dance - mad laughing, threats, poor jokes, terror, and about thirty kids huddled together in a classroom behind Joker's back. Tim recognizes it as one of the Gotham Academy classrooms. Dick can't imagine the horror those kids' parents must be feeling right now. Jason jokes about middle school traumatic experiences. Damian is feeling very justified for skipping classes today.

Bruce, all suited up in his Batman garb, is making his way to the Academy as fast as he possibly can. Those are kids.

Gotham is once again anxiously kept on the edge of their seats, watching as Joker decides to interview the kids on their learning experience so far. Something about leaving a good first impression on the new generation or some other bullshit. Most kids stutter over their words - it's true that Gothamites are way more composed when facing life-threatening events, but those kids are only fourteen or fifteen for the most part. They are not old enough to keep their cool in the face of a murder clown.

That is, until Joker points his camera at one of the girls. Black hair in a high ponytail, blue eyes without a trace of fear, a slightly displeased, even bored expression on her face. She looks straight into the camera, not even waiting for the laughing madman to finish his question, and deadpans:

"I don't think I like school. Pick me up, please."

Joker sputters.

"Not so scared, I see," he sneers, and, in the next moment, a comically large gun painted in purples and greens is pointed to the girl's forehead, "How about now?"

The girl scrunches her nose and makes a so-so gesture.

"It's kinda meh," she admits, "Like, yeah, points for style, but you know, size doesn't matter. It's all in the technique."

Dick snorts over the comms. It's a bad time for laughing, sure, but the phrase caught him off-guard. This is not what you'd expect to hear from a teen, and definitely not something you'd expect anyone to say to the Joker. Jason's comms are muted, but Barbara knows he also laughed a little.

"Technique, you say?" Joker hisses, pressing the gun closer to the girl's head, and she winces, leaning away from it, almost as if she is disgusted by the touch.

"Yeah, I mean, guns are not that scary anyway. What are you gonna do with them, blast my brains all over the floor? Been there, done that," the girl shrugs, "Kinda nasty, but overall, it's just like slime, only sticky." She pauses and looks to the side, seemingly lost in thought, "Huh, maybe we should have added Borax to it. Or was it baking soda?.."

"Listen here, you little brat," Joker's fingers catch the girl's chin, and his voice becomes sickeningly menacing. Bruce is almost there, just two more minutes. Tim is already grappling onto the wall.

But none of them get to finish.

"Put your dirty fingers away from my sister," a low, cold, and even in a way that speaks of barely contained fury, voice comes from out of the screen.

The camera spins, like whoever is holding it turned really fast, and everyone watching the stream sees a fairly normal guy standing by the window - a turtleneck and ripped jeans, same black hair as the girl, same blue eyes... Wait, they are not blue.

And that's not a guy.

The camera falls down to the floor, and there are a lot of panicked screams coming from the broadcast now, but none of them sound like children's voices. It's the screams of adults, of grown-ass men, and later, someone even claimed they heard Joker's scream among them, too. The picture on camera glitches a few times, and the angle is awkward, but everyone still gets to see how shadows in the room morph into eyes, wide open and green, and how the darkness grows sharp teeth, countless grinning mouths that don't belong to any faces.

Screams turn into gargling and then to quiet whispers, filling the ears of all those listening with countless words in languages they don't know.

Red Robin turns off the recording and looks to that same guy from the levestream, sitting across him on the couch. The guy - Daniel, or Danny, as he introduced himself - looks him in the eyes and raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, and?"

"How did you do it?" Tim asks for the third time this evening. Danny blinks.

"Did what?" He asks, completely incomprehending. Tim groans. He's been trying to get his answers, any answers at this point, from the guy for thirty fucking minutes already. So far, he's got nothing. Danny, whoever the fuck he is, proves to be the most annoying human being on Earth.

"Seven people in a coma, including Joker himself, with no physical injuries and none of the children remember a thing! How?!" He demands, and a girl's face peeks from around the corner:

"I remember!"

Tim snaps his head at her, "What do you remember?"

The girl pauses, blinks, and looks to Danny. Then shrugs, "My brother picked me up from school."

Tim drops his head down and breathes out in frustration. He can't force the information out of civilians, he is a vigilante, not a mafia.

"Would it make you feel better if I promise not to do it again?" Danny asks, and his voice is way too innocent for Tim to believe him. He raises his head to look the guy in his shameless, amused eyes.

"I hate you."

"Thanks," Danny grins.

[buttercupblu]

SoftDom!Suguru

Geto Finds Your Fanfic X Reader|Birthday One-Shot

the deets: uh, oh...girl, your boyfriend found your smut 😶 w.c: 12.3k (look...it is what it is) tags: fem!reader, fanfic indulgence (reverse uno, reader is an ADDICT—SHOCKER), mention of smut which is so ironic, delulu reader has all her dreams come true with the dreamiest fucking boyfriend in the history of boyfriends, soft-dom power dynamic, clitoral and vaginal masturbation, spanking/impact, edging/orgasm denial, fingering, forced orgasm, mention of breath play, gagging and throat fucking, mention of wax play, rope/restraint play, overstimulation, use of vibrator, P in V, creampie, reader’s brain is scrambled as she’s fucked into oblivion and ‘space’ (if you know you know), and most importantly, 💗💗💗CONSENT AND AFTERCARE IS SEXYYY💗💗💗 angel’s note: i almost named this 50 Shades of Geto chat 🧍🏾‍♀️…|a SoftDom!Suguru inspo pic i came across while writing 🥴 earworm 🐛: Freak in You|PartyNextDoor [Hoe|Jhene Aiko in video header]

Is this really the life I'm living?

Stifled moans threatening to spill over your puffy lips say yes.

That's less noticeable than the sharp, cool air kissing your aching nipples, though. Cute, little buttons that make your boyfriend's dick jump when he thinks about pinching them.

But neither compare to the coarse feel of the rope wrapped around your dainty wrists—competing for your attention and burning into your skin the more you grapple with it. 

Remnants will be there for days. Intricate lines of art that mark your body and make your slutty little mind smile.

But only fear lives in your eyes looking into Suguru's—his face smug but stern. 

A slight grin graces his lips as he raises his hand. “Eyes on me.” 

And you hold your breath, knowing that it’ll be 100 times worse if you look away, and wait for the—

Holy fucking coW, this is not a drill this is nOT A DRILL.

You squealed watching the mail truck drive off from the post you'd been stalking for hours—barely containing yourself from tearing the package to shreds the moment it's in your hands after rushing back inside.

Weeks had gone by, WEEKS, waiting for the beauty so gracefully wrapped in a shimmery tulle. Delicately peeling it away, you practically creamed yourself the second you pulled it from its satin bag.

It was finally in your hands, your fingers tracing over the glossy cover and raised title, not believing you were finally witnessing it in all its glory. And God, that new book smell was like crack.

Isn't It Sweet?

You nodded, biting your lip, agreeing with one of your favorite authors of all time as you marveled at their latest limited-book release.

One of only 1000 copies.

You remember how shaky your hands were when you ordered it, having set 4 or 5 alarms to make sure you didn't miss out on the drop. But you probably should've won an award for the world's fastest order the way you secured the bag with the quickness. And after daydreaming about it for days, you wanted nothing more than to hug it into your chest like a newborn babe.

Anyone who knows you would agree and say you're an avid reader (as if your overflowing bookshelf isn't enough evidence.) Still, you would say you were maybe just slightly above average—only spending about 5 to 6 hours a day gluing your eyes to books and words. Fully immersing yourself in endless lives, worlds, and universes was nothing as long as the life was worth living. And you're no stranger to all kinds of genres.

The classics. Sci-Fy. Horror. Smut. Occasional non-fic and self-help because it pays to be well-rounded. Romance is often hit or miss, but it has its moments.

What?

Oh ya. That's right.

That said smut.

And oh baby, does it have its claws in you.

Especially when it comes to fanfic.

Are you the world's biggest nerd? Maybe not (that's a lie; you've cosplayed and been to a few conventions—you're too far in the trenches, beloved, and it's okay), but the second someone mentions anime, you almost break your neck to listen in. Waiting to see if your favs are mentioned.

With most of them, you come for the action, laughs, and often heartbreak. Your latest fav was a great example of all of the above and taking the anime world by storm. The storyline and PTSD you get from watching it are part of the reason why, but truth be told, it's mostly because of the real gems you get if you stay. Gracing the screen from the first episode to the last.

Drop-dead gorgeous fictional daddies.

Being ate up around the world for being too good to be true. And there are more than enough of them to build a harem all wrapped up in a cute, gory little bow.

And you're the baddest of the down bad.

But you're not alone.

Oh dear love, very, very far from it.

The simps are everywhere. 

And you're the queen of Delulu Land, full of edits, cosplays, AUs, and art galore of anything you could ask for. And who could forget the stories?

Just the sheer amount of raw, raunchy, unsolicited smuttiness you get out of those is enough to make anyone sweat like a sinner in church. And you keep coming back for more.

It amazes you, the quality of content you get from those fandoms written by everyday people that even rival popular published works. But God, you can't even begin to imagine the sheer amount of batshit-crazy and unhinged energy it must take to think up and create such toe-curling filth.

Be there you were. Holding your second hardcopy fanfic that managed to make it off of the internet. About to shamelessly indulge your tastes once again. 

It didn't help that the cover was positively delish. It had a dark and mysterious air that you instantly recognized and made you feel a little funny. The infamous style belonged to one of your fav fanfic artists, and you couldn't believe the collab of your dreams was real.

Your bath was about to be one for the books, and you wanted to wait until you were simmering in the tub to open it, but you just had to get a sneak peek of the author's note at least.

You laughed, expecting nothing less as you read the gaggorific but true words. They're so unserious.

But this bath was about to be.

Rosy scents filled the bathroom as you lit a few candles and drew your bath, sprinkling salts and tiny petals into the bubbles.

Anyone on the outside looking in would think you were preparing for a date, and in a way, they would be right, but this solo ritual was routine anytime you got your hands on a good, smutty story.

Sighing, you sank into the cloud of bubbles, your muscles instantly relaxing in the hot, steamy water as you exhaled your cares away and let your head fall back against the fluffy body pillow.

The water felt amazing, and you could spend forever soaking in paradise, but slowly, your face began to warm. Not just because of the sweltering bath curling waves of steam around your body but also because of the heady thoughts that floated through your brain when you remembered why you were there. And so you pulled the caddy into the tub, your heart fluttering as you set up your book and dove in.

Fruity notes coated your tongue as you sipped a new wine between scenes, warming not just your tummy but also your core. Desire steadily built as you flipped through the pages, eyes soaking up the words as the scenes played in your head like you actually had the privilege of being a voyeur of such vulgar moments.

Your hand absent-mindedly drew small circles on your neck the more you imagined and read about your fav fictional daddy. Hearing his voice, trailing your finger down your chest as you envisioned his sharp, sultry eyes. That face he makes when he's being a big, tough, serious guy and somehow your hand ended up between your thighs, fingers lightly tapping your gradually pulsing clit.

And fuck were you jealous.

Your fav warned you about being in her bondage and restraint era, but the OC was going through it—manhandled and dealt with in a way that made your pussy throb until you couldn't take it anymore and slipped your fingers in to feed it.

Mewling, your fingers flexed inside you, feeling so warm inside your walls that ached so much you could feel a heartbeat when you dove in and out—moaning and working to sync with the story's vulgar pleasures.

But no matter how romantic the atmosphere was or how turned on and desperate for release you were, your dainty fingers, as cute as they were, were simply no match for the level of smut between those pages, and soon you found yourself drunk and pouting. Failing to properly reach those deliciously sweet spots inside you and leaving you unsatisfied and craving the only thing you knew could actually give you what you needed.

Your boyfriend.

And you knew if the day ever came when he did even a smidge of the things you'd seen in that book, you'd absolutely fall apart in his hands while blubbering ‘thank you’.

If only you weren't too chickenshit to just open your mouth and ask your angel of a boyfriend for it.

Suguru is such an, oh God—(insert animalistic noises)—you could eat that man for DAYS.

But truth be told, you weren't the usually overly confident bad bitch that made boys fall to their knees with Suguru. In fact, when you first saw him around, you were actually very intimidated.

Right off the bat, everything about him was different, way different.

His casual but cunty style screamed curated but careless when he walked around looking like he was fresh out of a Japanese street-style magazine. Often dressed in dark, baggy clothing that added to his mellow, mysterious aura—only to quietly flex on niggas by adding minimalistic but expensive layers of jewelry and accessories.

But what really made you weak the first time you saw them are the crown jewels that tie his look together—his piercings. The one in his eyebrow made it look sharper when he raised it, and whenever he tucked a strand of hair, you'd notice his cuff earrings fitting snugly on his cartilage that perfectly complimented his gauges. And—fuck—you could go on and on for days about how you constantly had to resist the urge to smash your lips onto his just to feel his snakebites.

You were doomed.

There he was, this tasty but nonchalant, cool guy. Reserved. Exclusive. And picky. 

Never ever ever in a million years did you think you could bag a walking piece of art like that. 

Don’t get it twisted; you are THEE shit and always the prize, but this time, it was less about looks and more about personality. And compared to Suguru? You were like a baby Powderpuff, sweet and bubbly, while he was a panther: sly, magnetic, and quick to ghost anyone who tried to get too close. 

Hot and impossibly hard to get. 

No wonder everyone wanted him.

Even without the competition, you were sure he probably had a thing for someone more his vibe, like big titty goth bitches, and you wouldn't blame him. Because sugar and spice just do not mix.

But fate had a funny way of humoring you, and one day you were unexpectedly thrown into each other's lives in a way that couldn't have been anything but the stars aligning.

The Panther and the Powderpuff.

Who knew you two would be a recipe for...perfection? And to your surprise, it was Suguru who latched on first, finding you simply addicting.

You were this vibrant, unapologetic good girl, sugary sweet and full of life, while he was this introverted yet magnetic loner, secretly craving someone to satisfy his sweet tooth.

Everyone else had been mere distractions, superficial, and a waste of his time.

But when the universe suddenly dropped you right into his lap, everything he thought he knew about loving someone changed.

The chemistry was undeniable and Suguru was selfish, wasting no time taking you off the market after only a few dates because the thought of you with anyone else made his stomach twist. But honestly, he had you hooked from, "Hello, my name is...", and ever since, you still find yourself unbelieving your luck—and the way he treats you.

From the unconditional princess treatment to every small or large sentiment you could wish for, Suguru does it all without hesitation. Knowing you deserve nothing less and leaving no room for anyone else to even try to compete. Often making you blush like a little schoolgirl who doesn't know what to do with herself because of his cool candor but loud love. Leaving you gagged and absolutely feral for him.

But it was simple for Suguru. He never questioned his instinct or need to have you. He just knew what he wanted, what he needed. 

You. 

You stir something deep in him, and he’s simply a slave to that insatiable urge to care for you in ways only he can.

Your sweet, raven-hair simp—always waiting and ready for you to pepper his blissful face with kisses every time you love on each other. Leaving you with no doubts that he’s yours and you’re his.

And he constantly reminds you that he can and will match your freak as his hands never seem to be able to stay off of you just as much as you think about sinking your claws into him.  

You practically jumped at any opportunity to have your way and slut out that man in all his panty-dropping glory—when he lets you—but you firmly drew the line at vanilla.

In a perfect world, you could live freely as the truly unhinged and slutty succubus you were and let this man dictate your every waking moment, body, and soul however he pleased—just like many of the books you obsess over. 

But you couldn’t risk scaring off your dream man with your Freak-a-leek fantasies. 

You had to be quiet with it. 

There was no way Suguru would be into that stuff.

Besides, it’s not like you were missing much. 

Suguru and Satisfaction go hand-in-hand, and your oh-so-thoughtful boyfriend is damn-near dedicated to making sure you spend your nights repeatedly moaning his name. Whether it’s by slurping you up with his tongue just for a taste or slow-stroking your insides until you soak the sheets before fighting over who's sleeping in it. Naturally reading your body with ease and filling you to the brim with butterflies until you claw his back then milk him dry. 

But every now and then, you couldn’t help but wonder…what would happen if one day he just happened to tap into that subtle but smug big dick energy and took the reins?

Alas, you’d rather sneak away every blue moon and submerge in the depths of smut than confess. Settled and content with getting your fix when you could, but that night, you found yourself growing more frustrated the longer you tried.

No matter how hard you concretrated, no matter how detailed and lewd the images and sounds were in your head, you were hell-bent on shooting stars into your eyes with every trick you knew in the book yet failing to bring yourself rapture with such feeble fingers. 

Eventually, with a final but not yet defeated groan, you decided to stop toying with yourself and return to Earth. Slightly disappointed but relishing in the fact that you always had access to the ultimate trump card, no matter how your smutty escapades went. You might not get to play 9 and ½ Weeks with your boyfriend, but he always guaranteed to fuck the ever-loving shit out of you and give you everything you need anytime you get all dolled up for him.

Your hand glided down your silky thighs, feeling smooth like butter as you caressed them, and you nodded. Mhmm, you were gonna get tore up tonight.

After finishing your bath, you dressed your body in your favorite lotion and serum combo before slipping into the silky lingerie Suguru randomly bought you a few weeks ago. He had been doing that more lately, coming home with all kinds of catered gifts and this one was by far one of your favorites and fit so perfectly. Now, all that was left to do was wait for him to get home and peel it off.

He’d been out most of the afternoon hanging with the guys while you did a few chores and stalked your mailbox. Suguru said it was supposed to be chill, but with the sun setting soon and knowing that Satoru was invited and without a doubt responsible for why Suguru was still not home, nine times out of ten, they ended up playing basketball. 

Your boyfriend is already pretty active, but anytime Satoru comes around, he gets turned up times ten and things get real competitive, real fast. Almost always against Sugu’s will, but he’d rather entertain Toru to make him shut up and eat his words than back down. And like a good girlfriend who knows all of her boyfriend’s dumb little weaknesses, you were exactly right.  

You missed the sound of his umbrella as he came through the front door, smoothing back his hair from the rain you didn’t hear while in the bath.

“I’m home, Love,” he calls out, and his gentle yet sultry voice paired with your pet name always makes you blush.

His natural scent was the first thing to hit your nose when he entered the bedroom, mingling with the wine steadily warming your body. Expecting you to nearly tackle him with a hug as you usually do after hours of being apart, he braced himself, but when he found you poised on the bed, relaxed and waiting for him, his mouth dropped, his heart once again racing even though he was sure he burned through his adrenaline playing basketball. 

You looked downright delectable.

“Hi, baby,” you laughed, smiling at his expression as you crawled towards him. The silky fabric draped in soft folds over your body, shifting and riding up just enough to reveal tantalizing glimpses of skin as you moved—clinging to your curves like a second skin. Everywhere he wanted his hands to be. 

Imagining you in it when he picked it out was one thing, but seeing you in it, right in front of him, well fuck—you looked so perfect now, he’d probably die seeing it around your ankles later.  

He drew a breath, unable to believe his luck or imagine a better view than the one of looking up at him with doe eyes while on your hands and knees. Just for him.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, the soft blend of rose and vanilla flooding his senses as you pulled your body close before realizing he was soaking wet.

“Ahh! Babe!” You jumped back. “You’re wet.” But his warm hands had already settled on your waist, firmly holding you in place. He smirked and stole a quick peck, and the familiar tease of his lips soon made you forget all about how cold and drenched he was as you melted into his touch, his lips making you more and more needy every time they met yours. 

He smiled against your lips, noticing you were more excitable than usual as you deepened the kiss, your heartbeat thudding against his chest as you pressed closer.

“You’re going to *peck* ruin your lingerie, Pretty,” he teased. But you clearly didn’t care, and he softly chuckled, having to reel it in for the both of you as he gently pulled away. “Let me hop in the shower first, ya?”

But when he looked into your puppy-dog eyes as you knelt before him, the thought of walking away felt nearly impossible. You wore that little frown and plea in your eyes that silently begged him not to leave, and any other time, he’d give right in. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, sending warm tingles to your tummy and making it just a bit easier for both of you. With your patience recharged, you perked up and switched gears, asking about his day as he settled in.

He casually shrugged, saying everything was cool. Yu called him, Toru, and Kento over to try out the latest 2K game, and though Toru was always down to hang, he spent the entire time groaning because, surprise, surprise, he was awfully bad at it—no matter which version he played. After losing one too many 1v1s to Suguru and the others, he let his butt-hurt ego get the best of him and suggested they ditch the “baby game” and play some real basketball.

Suguru knew it was just a cop-out for Toru sucking, but he also knew Toru wouldn’t stop whining until he got a chance to redeem himself. At least the day was nice enough for Suguru to humor him—until their Opp, Toji, showed up trying to start shit and ruin a good time as per usual. Lucky for him, the rain came in out of nowhere and cleared everyone out just before the gang could pop off, and blah blah blah, proper name, place name, backstory stuff. 

Suguru sounds so lovely when he talks, but you were only half-listening, completely mesmerized as he pulled his sopping, wet shirt over his head and revealed his toned body and tats.

No one would ever guess that his chest and sides of his torso were inked unless he showed you. The intricate dragon tattoo weaved across his shoulders and down the full sleeve of his arms, but that was the only evidence that he’d taken a needle to his skin. It’s like a special little surprise reserved only for those he wants to see, and you never get tired of drooling over it—or him, watching him shyly smile as he noticed your gaze and gave you a playful wink before disappearing into the bathroom.

You sank into the bed with a pout but managed to distract yourself as he showered. Suguru loves a long, hot one, and he definitely took his sweet time that night. You figured he deserved it after such a hectic evening and told yourself that the wait to quell your fire was just a little bit longer. 

But your impatience would cost you, as you failed to notice that in your haste to get ready for Pound Town, you’d forgotten to do something very important. 

Suguru came out whistling, a cloud of steam pouring into the bedroom as he stepped through, a towel wrapped low on his hips. His long, slightly towel-dried hair clung to his face in cute, messy stands, and he shot you a soft, knowing smile as he crossed the room. You were so adorable, waiting on him like a pup, shamelessly following his every movement with your gaze.

He laughed, “You look comfy.”

“I’ve been waiting for you,” you pouted. “You were in there forever.”

Suguru grinned, reaching for the towel draped around his neck. “Yeah? I guess I got a bit distracted.” He moved toward the dresser, lazily pulling it open. “Did you have a good day?” 

Suppressing the urge to be frank, you nodded. If only he knew. “It was okay. Nothing special.”

“Oh, real?” He raised an eyebrow, glancing over his shoulder. “You’re in such a good mood, though. Didn’t get into anything exciting?”

Just failed to get off to one of the smuttiest fics ever written. 

“Nope,” you quickly replied, chewing on your bottom lip. As thoughtful as it was for Suguru to be a loving boyfriend and ask you about your day, you wished he’d chat less and fuck your brains out more. Fuck the clothes, fuck the pleasantries. And it was painfully obvious by the way his sharp, purple eyes took in your antsy body.

Pulling out some clothes, his lips curved into a smile. “You seem a little…eager tonight. Did my girl miss me?” But he didn’t really need to ask. He knew that you were practically in heat and only added flames to the fire by casually throwing on his favorite PJs that hung loosely around his v-section and slipping on a black wife-beater that hugged his torso(I know, that's a CRAZY name for an article of clothing).

Your pussy clenched—Yes God, YESYES STOP THE TORTURE!—silently screaming for him to just stop teasing and give you what you wanted before you exploded, but all you could manage was a whimper and frantic nod, knowing you were just seconds away from showing him exactly how much you did.

Suguru’s smile deepened watching you struggle, amusement dancing in his eyes as he sauntered towards you. “How ‘bout we burn off some of that energy then, hmm?” His weight sank into the mattress as he crawled onto the bed, closing the space between you and softly pecking your lips with every word. “With. A. Game.”

But the way heat flared in your chest as you helplessly fell under his kiss, you didn’t know if you could handle whatever his mischievous little mind was thinking. Still, you felt your body betray you, naturally unable to resist him and growing curious—no, needing—to do just about anything he asked if it meant he would continue kissing butterflies into you. 

With heavy-lidded eyes, you asked what game, growing breathy as you imagined every raunchy couple’s game you could think of. But your anticipation quickly turned to confusion when you felt him pull something from behind his back.

“Let’s read something new tonight,” he grinned. And you damn near went into cardiac arrest. 

With your mind solely focused on getting your hands on your boyfriend, you had completely forgotten about your book, leaving it in the bathroom to be discovered by Suguru the moment he stepped inside. 

And, oh baby, was it insightful.

You gaped, too stunned to speak as he pulled you toward the end of the bed. He settled on the bench and patted his lap, inviting you to sit, but you were frozen in place, absolutely mortified and refusing to believe this was real life.

You were caught, your mind filling with millions of thoughts all wondering how the hell your own carelessness after months of being “careful” ended up outing you, and it took him firmly calling you again before you finally found the courage to move, your brows furrowing as reality hit you. 

Now your boyfriend definitely knew how much of a menace you were—one of those Godforsaken BOOKTOK GIRLIES, of all things—and should’ve been running for the hills.

But he only looked at you lovingly, gently guiding you into his lap and making sure you were comfortable before his arms settled around your waist. He cleared his throat and held the book in front of you. “I’ll start,” and he began where you left off—on one of the smuttiest scenes in the story. 

“Taichi had seen what your mouth could do.” Oh no. “Never failing to command everyone’s attention before you cleared a room with just your words. Now, as his thumb softly traced over those same desirable lips that held so much power, his cock jumped at the idea of them wrapped around it.” 

Holy shit. 

Reading it was one thing, but being forced to hear from the last person you’d expect in the most naturally seductive voice imaginable was absolutely killing you in more ways than one. Especially when he was leaning right into your ear, his chin softly resting on your shoulder as if he were reading you a lullaby. 

Heat flooded your face, but Suguru’s voice was steady and calm—completely unbothered as if he weren’t reading about your smuttiest innermost fantasies and making your embarrassment skyrocket. You felt so vulnerable and exposed and dirty and like you couldn’t get enough air and fuck—you didn’t know what Suguru was trying to prove or if this was his wicked way of trying to embarrass you before breaking up with you, but the torture was too much, and you had to get out of there.

Panicking, you tried to get up, but no-no—he wasn’t about to let you slip away from storytime that easily, and his arm snaked around your waist and secured you against him with a gentle but unyielding grip. His legs followed suit, quickly wrapping around yours and locking you in place, and you gasped in disbelief when your thighs effortlessly parted and exposed your pretty, clothed pussy.

Helpless whines escaped you, and he tsked, smiling at your sudden innocence. Like you couldn’t believe this was really happening. Like you couldn’t believe that the same filth you craved, obsessed, and dreamt over was now spilling from your boyfriend’s pretty mouth, sounding like a limited-edition audiobook Fanfic girlies could only dream of. And if you thought there was no possible way to make the situation worse than it already was, Suguru decided to take things up a notch and bring the book to life.

His lips lightly brushed your shoulder, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin as he nuzzled your neck and inhaled your scent. Pressing kisses to the back of your neck, he stole a breath from your lungs when he nipped your ear. Perfectly mimicking the story’s peak and leaving you completely at his mercy as the lines between fantasy and reality blurred.

His hand around your waist trailed across your stomach with a deliberate slowness, traveling down until he grasped your inner thighs, knowing this was one of your most sensitive spots and drawing possessive lines that made your clit begin to tingle and swell through your panties.

Inching closer and closer, the sly smile in his voice grew, and your breath grew shallower until it hitched, sparks igniting when he ghosted over your clit. Your thighs trembled, but his voice remained smooth and unwavering.

Suguru noticed a twisted sense of satisfaction growing within as he felt you squirm, simultaneously struggling to close your legs even though you throbbed like crazy for more. You were caught between sheer embarrassment and undeniable arousal. Not knowing which to give in to.

He pressed his cheek to yours. “You’re so cute when you blush,” he murmured, becoming distracted by your reactions as he poured out endless praise—so flustered, so sickenly distraught and overwhelmed, but it only made him smile.

You always get so shy when he compliments you. His usually confident girl easily coming undone with only a few soft words and a glint in his eyes. And he loved it—the way you always tried to pretend you weren’t seconds away from completely unraveling when he flirted.

He hummed thoughtfully, wondering how long you could keep it up this time. And what it would take for you to fold.

“Finish up for me, pretty girl,” he decided, and handing you the book, his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your panties and brushed your soaking folds.

You stiffened, the sudden warmth snatching your breath and making it impossible to get a single sentence or objection out. 

“C’mon baby,” he kissed your shoulder, fingers stilling right on your clit. “You have such a pretty voice.” 

The fucking Devil.

You let out a shaky moan, not knowing whether you hated or still loved him in that moment, but either way, you sure as hell weren’t going to let him see you crack, and you drew a breath.

Clearing your throat, you swallowed thicky and mustered up the steadiest voice you could to prove you wouldn’t just be a victim of this wicked game of his. And you were doing so well, for a sentence or two. Until his slick fingers started to call your bluff and gradually began to draw slow, precise circles right on your swollen bud. 

And God help you, you couldn't stop the stutter.

“Sm-smeared mas-sc-scara ran hah down y-your f-face.” You paused and closed your eyes, wetting your lips before continuing. “You’d p-pay for your ah used and…and b-br-bruised t-throat in the morning bUT,” you yelped when he squeezed your waist. “It-it was a small price to p-pay to taste a c-cock sss-so d-delish.” 

Suguru chuckled lightly, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. But it wasn’t enough. 

He needed to see you completely fall apart. 

His free hand glided upward and fondled your breast, his thumb taunting and brushing over your nipple. You instinctively arched into his touch, a series of soft whimpers escaping your lips as he rolled them between his fingers until they were sensitive and hard. 

Your body couldn't decide which overwhelming sensation to focus on—the weight of his fingers just sitting and taunting your clit or the jolts of pleasure running to your core with each pinch of your nipple. Both sent messy moans tumbling out of your mouth. 

He grinned against your shoulder. “You’re so responsive tonight,” he said, adding to the heady mix of lust and frustration. Building you up and bringing you down in a vicious cycle as every time you crept closer and closer to losing it, he was quick to slow and remind you to keep going.

But your thighs kept quaking and your breath kept hitching and you could only squirm so much trying to rock into his touch and steal Heaven, but his fingers were light and easily kept you right on the edge. Touching only your clit and leaving you distraught as your poor, neglected walls began to ache. 

But your desperation was too loud to ignore, and knowing you wouldn’t give up, he smirked—like boyfriend, like girlfriend—and he nipped your ear, pulling back the hood of your clit before he strummed his fingers over it. Fast. “Go for it,” Suguru whispered. 

And fuck, it took all of 2 seconds for your legs to become a vibrating mess and made him wrap his tighter, your breath going light as you rose up on your toes. 

Whimpering. 

Heart racing.

Eyes drawing closed as you mentally sang his praises for allowing you to finally cum. Walking you to the line of release and rapture with every flick of your hot clit and every breath on your skin right up until he stopped.

You let out a defeated scoff.

You weren’t getting off that easy.  

He pulled the long-forgotten book from your hands, and you yelped, suddenly being lifted and bent over his knee. He gave you a second to adjust, then secured you with an arm around your waist, rolling up the hem of your dress before his heavy palm settled on your ass, fingers languidly massaging your cheeks.

You felt so plush as he caressed your skin, gripping you lovingly between his fingers before he delivered a heavy slap.

“Why’d you keep this from me?”

A shriek died in your throat, a million things instantly flying through your head. Shock from this stranger you called a boyfriend, how you ended up here, how no one could’ve ever convinced you that this situation only found in books and on the internet would actually happen to you. 

Endless things to think about but nothing to say.

“Oh, we’re being shy now?” Any other time, you would spend hours yapping Suguru’s ears off about one thing or another and he’d dote on every word. But now they were escaping you. 

*SLAP!*

And he gripped your cheek to soothe the sting, fingers running over the raised marks the rings he never takes off left on your skin.

He hummed, eyeing the soaked patch on your panties, biting his lip seeing you’d gotten even wetter since he bent you over his knee.

His fingers couldn’t resist gently dragging over your clothed folds, just light enough that it felt like a ghost and made you shudder. You pushed back, trying to chase it, your mind borderline broken and desperate to quench your insatiable thirst, but found it impossible to move. 

“Let’s try this again.” And he delivered a slap even harsher than the last, making you squirm under his tight grip. 

Obviously, you hadn’t learned your lesson from earlier, and when you tried to get away, Suguru swiftly pinned your arms behind your back and didn’t skip a beat, landing another series of slaps on the same spot since you wanted to be so damn difficult. 

You knew you couldn’t escape but neither would your words, silent screams building up as you just had to lie there and take it. Emotional turmoil churned within, leaving you questioning everything you thought you knew about Suguru who was promptly lighting your ass up. Bringing to life each hot sting that you’ve fantasized about in stories, on TV, and in the dirty thoughts of your boyfriend maybe one day warming up to the idea—but not like this. This was so sudden. Too much. So overwhelming to the point that nothing came out of you but feeble whines and stuttering breaths until you were on the verge of tears when “I’m sorry!” finally slipped from your defeated lips.

Suguru froze. 

His heart thumped. 

And in the span of a few seconds, Suguru learned a few things about himself. 

1. He hadn’t expected himself to be able to break you so quickly. You’re as tough as he is, hell, even tougher sometimes, and only admit defeat when you absolutely cannot fight anymore. 

2. He hadn’t expected to fall head over heels in love with the sound of your cries and heavy breaths as you tried to gather yourself. 

Knowing he was the cause and this was the effect of you being worn out and surrendering made his dick thump against your stomach. 

He rubbed slow, soothing circles on your flushed cheeks.

“It’s ok baby, it’s ok,” he shushed, and you felt so pitiful yet turned on that you could cry. But as much as he wanted to relish in your punishment for keeping secrets, he also needed to reveal one of his own. “Because I’ve known for a while.”

“You wHAT?” Your voice cracked. If you could look him in the eyes, you would just so he could see how utterly flabbergasted you were because there was no freaking way. “How??”

“C’mon babe,” he snickered, “You watch DevilBoy Games, a lot, and Toru told me how you DBG girls are, I’ve seen you drool over that crazy guy with bags under his eyes.”

“He’s not crazy,” you huffed, “Just misunderstood.”

He laughed, lightly squeezing your thigh. “He kinda looks like me.” 

“Get over yourself.” And you’d cross your arms if he weren’t still holding them.

He tsked. “Are you really surprised, love?” he asked, smirking before completely reading you, mentioning that there was no way you thought he wouldn’t notice the nights when you would stay up late, blushing at your phone. 

Never once wondering if you were talking to some other guy or anyone else, but putting two and two together pretty early on when you said you were having reading time on your favorite social platform known for its…content. Scrolling the site for hours just to soak up pure filth. 

As secretive as you tried to seem about it, the obsession never stopped you from being bold enough to do it in bed.

Suguru pouted. “So, you don’t like me enough or what?” he asked, his tone teasing yet laced with genuine curiosity. He often wondered why you didn’t just say anything—how you could be so close to him and dive into your fantasies but not act on them. 

Your face instantly heated. “It’s not…it’s not like that at all!” you stammered, struggling to find the right words. “I just—it’s different, okay?”

He cocked his head. "Different how?"

“I don’t know I…–I honestly didn’t think you’d be into that stuff,” you admitted, feeling more vulnerable than ever and even a little guilty. You deflated. “I thought you’d think I was weird.”

"My baby? Weird?” He chuckled softly, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. "That can’t be it.” And he leaned close. “Or maybe you just thought I couldn't handle it," and his eyes gleamed.

Your stomach dropped, eyes going wide as you were once again left shocked and speechless. But Suguru let go of your arms, satisfied enough with your confession and ready to play now, for real.

Your pussy practically swallowed your drenched panties that clung to you as he pulled them to the side, the cool air kissing your folds before you felt his warm fingers swirl over your glistening vulva.

He smiled—you were so sensitive—bucking at the languid strokes as he gathered your slick. He’s always been gifted with his fingers and quick to make you fall apart from the slightest touch.

He bit his lip, unable to resist lightly dipping his fingertips in just to bring them to his mouth and give you a taste.

“So fucking good.” He could play with you forever. Licking his lips, he parted yours, transfixed on your walls that clenched around nothing. Desperate to take his fingers that teased desperate whines out of you. 

“You gonna keep any more secrets from me, baby?” 

You shook your head, desperate to do or say whatever, which Suguru knew, but he needed you to mean it. 

He’d been edging you for almost half an hour now and his own dick was just as strained and blue-balled as your pussy, but he could and would hold out as long as he had to to make sure you’d never feel ashamed enough to hide any parts of you ever again. He just needed to hear the words, and he dipped just the tip of his finger inside you. “Say it.” 

“I promise, Sugu, never again,” you pleaded, your voice shaking. "I’ll never keep anything from you again, just please, I—” you almost choked. "I need you so badly.”

The words spilled out you, sounding so pretty when you begged. And when he finally believed you, your mouth fell open, but nothing came out—a breath catching in your throat and eyes fluttering at that familiar stretch as he slowly pushed in. Walls finally sucking in the fingers they’d been so hungry for.

You could’ve came right then. 

“Fuck,” he swore under his breath. You felt like home. 

Your spongey walls squished and pulsed around him like a heartbeat, his fingers sinking in slow until you drew a sharp breath, your leg twitching.

Right there, he smiled, almost instantly finding that gushy spot of yours that makes you see white. 

He whistled—this mouth-watering position not only gave him an immaculate view of your ass he wanted to sink his teeth into but also let his peace fingers perfectly angle and beckon your gspot. 

His other hand slowly spread you wide, and he cooed, marveling at how easy he slid in and out, his fingers hooking with each dip as he took advantage of the easy access and sent sparks to your toes.

Your teeth tugged at your lip, brows drawing together. He was pushing so sinfully into you, his fingers flowing like waves with the full intent to draw your orgasm out of you as he’d done millions of times before. Always leaving you breathless, heady, and unbelieving how natural it was for him to bring you to absolute shambles.

His pace was agonizingly slow, plunging in and out with a deliberate rhythm that had you trembling and your lip sore from biting and stifling your pathetic moans. His dick painfully throbbed against your stomach, the heat of it branding your skin with each ragged breath you took trying to contain yourself.

After keeping you on the edge for so long without mercy, he was about to send you plummeting into the deep end, his own restraint slipping with every passing second as his pace gradually increased, your slick beginning to pool around his fingers when you felt your orgasm coming on. 

Your muscles tightened around him as he pushed you towards your peak, the sound of his fingers fucking into you rivaling macaroni but had to battle your fat mouth spilling out moans like a starving slut. 

“Ssh ssh ssh.” His hand slipped over your mouth. “I wanna hear her, she sounds so pretty.” And without restraint, the squelches of your pussy fucked the air, your drool slipping through his fingers and dripping down the side of your mouth. And just as you felt time slowing, he quickly swapped fingers, his middle and ring fingers angling down and furiously hitting that blinding spot that sent your eyes rolling.

Forgetting how to breathe, your cherry-O raced around the corner, aiming to crash right into you. Slowly, you began to arch your back into his hand, core tightening. And when you drew a deep breath, eyes screwing shut as you held it, his voice was deep and low to reassure you. “It’s okay baby, let it out.” And he racked his fingers until the pressure of your orgasm burst open.

"ohoHfuckfuCKFUCK SUGUSUGUSUGUOHMYGODIMCUMMING!" You clutched his calf and toppled over, your fluids spilling around his fingers and down your thighs, making a complete mess on his pants.

“Gooood girl, just like that,” he said almost desperately, biting down on his lip to stifle his own moans, but his fingers didn’t slow down, jiggling into you until you were writhing and begging for relief. He just had to make sure he got it all out, his silky fingers swimming deep into your sopping and noisy pussy until he wrung out all your shudders then slowed until your breaths somewhat returned to normal.  

You came down, releasing your grip on him, your calves sore and aching from being on your toes.

Suguru smirked and licked his fingers clean, impressed by the sight of you lifelessly hanging over his legs: pathetic, spent, and cute.

After a moment of just holding you, he leaned down, pressing a kiss on your slightly reddened cheek before giving you an unexpected but quick lick of your pussy that made you twitch.

Yup, good and sensitive, just like he liked it.

Gently rubbing your back, he hummed. “Is my little slut satisfied?”

“Suguru!” Un uh—now he was calling you names?? You barely managed to open your eyes, still in a daze as you tried to look at him.

“What?” he shrugged. “Just making sure…the author said you wouldn’t be,” he cocked a brow with a playful smile. “...Right?”

…the godforsaken author’s note. 

“For all my sluts who’d rather be fucked by fictional men than real ones.“

You ran your limp noodle of a hand over your face and groaned. Just when you thought the night couldn’t get any more humiliating, your fave author doubled back and helped you stumble into more trouble.

But Suguru wasn’t offended, not even a little bit. If anything, he looked amused, a slight smirk gracing his lips with a flicker of something else in his eyes. 

He’d been waiting for an opportunity like this and bided his time. Now, every little secret and hidden desire you thought you’d keep forever buried in those books was out in the open and his for the taking—and he was ready to tear them apart.

“Suguru, I—” 

“It’s ok,” he shushed, his thumb brushing your bottom lip as he tenderly cupped your face. But the hairs on the back of your neck stood up when you saw that sly grin spread across his face before he said, “We’ll see about that.”

Things were a bit…different..after that night. 

It wasn’t something either of you discussed outright, but there was definitely a shift—an unspoken understanding that lingered in the air between you.

At first, it was like you were meeting for the first time all over again, and you slipped back into that shy, uncertain girl you were when Suguru first came into your life. Every knowing look he gave you, every slight touch, had you blushing, anticipating. As if you, once again, had no idea how to handle him—or how he would handle you. 

He was slowly unveiling the quiet power you never knew or expected him to possess. And he was making sure you wouldn’t dismiss it again.

Now, it was you who hesitated before speaking, nervously fiddling with your fingers any time he asked you something even slightly suggestive before your eyes would dart away in embarrassment—not knowing that Suguru was absolutely loving this budding dynamic. 

He would tease but never pushed too hard because he was patient. Always patient and watching with that soft, amused smile anytime you fumbled for words or tried to play off how flustered you were. Gradually coming to terms with the fact that your boyfriend—the same one who always gave you a gentle look and treated you like you were more than precious—was more than willing to cater to and control you until you creamed and cried. 

But honestly, not much had changed for Suguru. He still carried that same calm, subtle soft-dom energy that had always drawn you in—now there was just a label for it.

But there was a subtle shift in the way he handled you, like a quiet reminder that he knew you now—all of you. And he made one thing clear and made sure you understood it—closed mouths don’t get fed—and it was a lesson you had to learn quickly, especially after you promised not to keep any more secrets. And whenever you’d shy away or fall into your usual silence, Suguru would tilt your chin and hold your gaze with those piercing, violet eyes. “Use your words, Pretty,” he’d say, and your cheeks would burn with embarrassment, but you’d still push through because you knew he was right. 

So you stayed true to your word and began looking for all the ways you could experiment and get what you wanted…in the only way a little gremlin like you could…by getting him riled up. And for a minute, he would just take it on the chin. But then he discovered breath play. 

You were really getting on his nerves one day.  

But you felt like you would actually die if he left you to hang with the boys when something in you was practically begging you to crawl into his skin. He was about to leave out wearing your favorite hoodie of his too, the one that's slightly cropped and hangs just above his midriff, and you sulked because you knew that any thirsty bitch in the vicinity would try to be on him like white on rice even when Suguru never paid them any mind. 

Besides, he had already fucked you silly that morning and had been pampering you with kisses all afternoon, so he didn’t understand why you were being so clingy. 

But you were craving something else. A bit of something to eat.

And instead of just telling him that you wanted his dick down your throat and past your tonsils, you decided to block the front door, cross-armed, scowling, and staring at the appetizing outline on his basketball shorts. Jealous that they got to hold his heavy balls all day instead of you.

His fingers snapped, “Babe,” the sound pulling you out of your silent tantrum and making you look at him with wanting eyes. “What’s up with you?” he asked, his tone a mix of amusement and exasperation. 

But you just couldn't bring yourself to say it, so you deepened your silent pout until he pinched his nose and sighed.

“Then move,” he started, stepping closer, but you shook your head and widened your stance like a toddler.

A smirk played on his lips as he loomed over you, taking in your pettiness before his hand thudded next to your head.

You jumped, but your defiance didn’t waver, your eyes lifting to meet his. His smug expression only deepened as he shifted, the heat of his coveted dick pressing against your thigh in a way that made your breath hitch.  

“Move,” he repeated, but you just pressed your lips tighter, your eyes challenging him. 

His other hand slid up, fingers gently curling around your neck and thumb brushing over your pulse. "We doing this again?" he asked, low and laced with threat.

What could you say? Old habits die hard. 

But he knew what you wanted. The way you thickly swallowed and wet your lips, eyes darting to the growing tent between you, spoke volumes even when you wouldn’t.

“Fine,” he said, and before you knew it, your knees were hitting the ground, his hand settling on your head and making you slink to the floor. He tilted your chin. “Open that pretty mouth since you don’t want to use it.”

And at his gruff command, your tongue lolled out, unapologetically.

He tsked, tucking his lip under his teeth at your display. 

You’re the most difficultly-easy person he knows next to Satoru, quick to make the simplest things complicated sometimes, and this time, he was going to give you exactly what you were asking for, but not without reprimand. 

His thumb landed on your pink tongue, pressing and holding your gaze.

“You want it?” You caught a subtle thump, and he palmed his shorts. “Oi, up here” He held your jaw, cocking his brow.

His smirk was devilish, a knowing glint in his eye watching you grow needier by the second—unable to focus on anything but the desperate need for him to turn your throat into a daycare. 

Tongue trapped under his thumb, you finally answered him in the only way you knew how, and he watched with parted lips as yours closed around his finger with an eager nod. 

You were going to be the death of him.

With a tug of his shorts, your fat reward sprang forth, almost brushing the tip of your nose—already leaking stringy globs of precum for giving him such a hard time.

Your eyes sparkled. Suguru has such a pretty dick. One of the prettiest you’ve ever seen that’s girthy, long, and perfectly made for your greedy throat. 

It was heavy on your tongue as he tapped it, teasing your palate and holding it out for you to give it a taste.

Less was said, and you gladly accepted your meal, the taste of him coating your tongue as you swirled around the tip before sucking it into your mouth.  

Suguru’s knees almost buckled as you lapped at him like ice cream, your tongue tracing up and down his shaft before placing gentle kisses under his tip. His face went warm, his fingers threading through your hair as he fought to maintain control. “Don’t—ngh—tease. Suck it—mmph—properly.” And with a firm press to your bottom lip, he coaxed your mouth open before pushing in and filling it completely. 

You gagged, and a deep exhale left his lips feeling your warm mouth finally wrap around him, your eyes watering as the weight of his dick fully seated on your tongue and made your lips stretch to savor every inch.

“That’s it—mphm—take it all.”

His hips automatically moved at the feel of your throat, his head softly falling back feeling you relax and hum around him. He couldn’t help but gently thrust, his spongy tip kissing the back of your throat and making you blink back tears as he tested your limits. And you only made it harder for him to hold back with the way you ate him up like candy. 

Even though head is a game, you never play. All day, you’d been torturing yourself, once again denying yourself of your insistent need to swallow his kids in the name of shame, but once the reins were off, you wasted no time satisfying your craving—knowing exactly how to get Suguru to blow his load.

And fuck was it a losing battle for him to try to keep the tendrils of his orgasm at bay while also trying to remember that he was supposed to be teaching you a lesson.

As he said, closed mouths don’t get fed, and he started pulling away with a satisfying ‘pop’ every time you got too greedy. Rubbing his dick over your lips with a grin before snaking back in and taking you further and further down each time. 

He groaned watching you take him, your eyes meeting as you looked up. The new cut in his brow made them look even sexier when he bunched them, complementing the low and husky look in his eyes you’d never seen before you sent them rolling when he wrapped your hair around his fist and pushed in to the base.

“Hah.” His breath hitched as you swallowed. Once. Twice. Holding you down a sec before he pulled out with an exhale. And as he watched your heavy breaths, struggling to collect yourself but looking up at him with a starry-eyed but fucked out gaze, he got an idea. 

“Why do you act so innocent all the time?” he huffed, pushing back in. “Look at you,” his thumb stretched your lips, “Choking on my dick and loving it.” Always the innocent ones, he thinks, full of frills and freaks. 

And you couldn’t deny how the slow and lewd way he fucked your throat made your pussy drip like a waterfall, uring you to rub fast circles across your throbbing clit, but he knew you would try. 

You were a cock-drunk slut, after all, always getting off when he stretched, used, and abused your throat to his satisfaction, so he knew he would have to lock your hands away to keep your mouth open and you focused since you wanted to taste him so badly.

Still fucking your throat, he said, “Take a breath, baby,” and soon after, you gagged when he leaned over you. “Hold it,” and he pulled the string from his hoodie and began counting. “One, two, three.” Bringing a flood of tears to your fluttering eyes as he sank deep into your throat and tied your wrists behind your back.

Air. God, what is air?? Your lungs screamed for it, stomach tight, but your pussy clenched so sinfully tight from the lack of it. 

You didn’t know it then, but this was an accidental deep dive into something you’d both come to love. The control, the discipline, the trust. The skill you had to possess as a certified throat goat. And most of all, the uncertainty of never knowing when he was going to allow your next breath. Every time counting down until you were squirming for air before pulling out with an exhale as if he were breathing with you.

He ogled at the messy evidence of effort plastered on your face, strings of spit connecting from your lips to his pink tip. His dick twitched at your huffs and tear-streaked face and he rubbed your puffy lips. “Fuck, you’re so pretty, baby,” and the words went straight to your swollen clit before he continued playing with you.

He loved how your throat closed around his dick when you swallowed, like you were trying to milk him for every drop. Sucking, blowing, and swallowing til your throat knew every vein and his orgasm was coming and coming fast. His stuttering hips and tightening grip on your hair were enough evidence if the low moans competing with the sloshes of your throat weren’t. 

Heat pooled in his stomach, brows furrowing as he locked eyes with a borderline whiny look. He licked his lips. “Ready for me to cum for you, baby?” he asked in that breathy voice he always does before he unravels. And your dick-drunk nod, knowing you were about to earn your meal, was all he needed to cup your jaw, making sure you looked him right in the eye as the coil in him snapped.

“Fuck, hah, I’m cumming,” and he groaned, biting his pierced lips and slipping all the way to the base til your nose brushed his tufts of hair and he filled your throat. 

Ropes of cum poured out of him, and he went dizzy, his mouth falling open with shaky moans watching your spaced and gone face as he came down your throat. Your wrists strained against the tie as your throat constricted, but you swallowed his throbbing cock with ease like it was the only sustenance you needed. Pumping you full until he was a soft and empty gummy worm in your mouth. 

He shuddered and collected his breaths, slowly pulling from your lips with a sigh. You hummed and licked them—most of your lunch had gone to your stomach, but remnants remained on your tongue, warm and delicious. 

"ThAnk," you cleared your throat. "Thank you," you huffed, throat raw and voice cracking, but he just shook his head and smiled. You were above asking for what you wanted but never forgot to be grateful when you got it.

He swiped your chin with his thumb. "You're a brat," and you beamed, lifting your chin. Because he didn't know how right he was.

And while that was just the beginning of your exploration of power dynamics, it quickly became a very slippery slope. Because while you might've thought you were the expert in all things whips and chains and excitement, Suguru had been quietly doing some research and taking hellah notes. And taking one directly from you, he soon began to make a few secret purchases of his own.

Suguru has his hobbies. 

He likes to read, play sports to stay fit, and enjoys spending time in nature when he can. Outside of that, he’s pretty simple. 

But there’s a little-known fun fact about your beau—he’s a secret artiste.

It’s rare that he’ll break out his paints and easel, but once every blue moon when his inner Picasso strikes, he’ll sit for hours, brush to canvas until it all pours out of him. 

You always find yourself in a trance watching him in that element—his quiet intensity as he gets lost in space and creates galaxies. But even though Suguru isn't loud about his talent, he’s actually very creative and always looking for different ways to release and create. Never shying awaying from trying new things and always looking for new mediums. And canvases. 

You slightly winced, then moaned. 

Wax is hot in more ways than one, and it’s just perfect for when Suguru wants to creatively get his hands on you.

He loves creating delicate patterns on your back, savoring every moment and watching your face twist between pain and ecstasy as he skillfully lets the wax drip. Never too much at once, the hot lines spill and cool across his favorite canvas—your skin. There's a world of difference between paper stretched across wood, and the softness beneath his hands, and your skin is far lovelier, simply irresistible. 

His hair brushed your skin as he leaned down, his lips tracing down your back and between the patterns. So soft against his lips. All of you, from your neck to your chest to your tummy, softly mold under his fingers like clay when he worships you like art, and sometimes he’ll drip hot lines down your inner thighs and plush cheeks just so he can melt his lips between them—feeling so lucky to have the privilege to feast on a masterpiece. 

Your own little van Gogh, drowning his nose in your folds and bringing curses to your lips.

You knew Suguru was a modern-day Michelangelo with a paintbrush, but now your once shy and reserved man was having too much fun exploring all the unconventional ways he could create art—and slowly crossing over into a world of kinky debauchery. 

And at the end of every session, he never forgets to take a Polaroid picture to show you and keep for himself. A little testament to his sentiments and sensuality. It wasn’t all just about whips and chains after all. 

You also needed—

Buzz! 

Your eyes screw shut and you tense but can’t move because of the

—rope.

“Hey,” Suguru snaps. “I said keep your eyes on me,” and you shot daggers at him because how the hell could you when you’ve been overstimulated for hours and have already cum, twice?  

Eyes softening, you whimper, but your heart sinks when he just rolls his eyes.

Fuck. 

You really did it this time. 

Your boyfriend has a lot of patience, a thin line for everyone else but a lot for you. But God, do you know how to fucking tap dance on it sometimes.

“Did you think you were cute?” his face screwed. “Dancing in sections and on bars. Guys?” The vibrations increase, and you double over whining.

In all fairness, you did beg him to come out with you and your girls earlier, but your boo has been working on a big project lately and was understandably beyond tired. Still, you complained, eventually giving up and still going out without him, but you didn't expect a play-by-play of your night and mini rebellion to end up all over your equally drunk friend’s Snapchat—or for Suguru to see it. 

You picked a hell of a time to act out too, because, after weeks of secretly practicing his newest obsession, Suguru had finally perfected it: the harness prayer tie, and watching your wrists struggle against his work was the most satisfying confirmation of his skill he could’ve asked for. 

The skill and intricacy of restraint and rope play was the perfect balance between tapping into his creative side and reeling you in when you got out of hand—now proving very useful after you had fully pissed him off. 

Leaning down, he grips your face. “You wanna act like a slut so badly, I’m gonna treat you one.”

But he didn’t just give you the dick you’d been acting out over right away though—he hardly thought you deserved it. 

Instead, a vibrator has been nuzzling your clit for hours after he woke you up the following morning and went to work with his tie—your blubbering whines falling on deaf ears as he overstimulated you until you felt ruined and raw.

Sniffling, you plead, “I’m sorry, Sugu.”

“You’re always sorry,” he bites back, his hand wrapping under your jaw. “And so fucking greedy, you know that? I bet you still want me to fuck you stupid like the cock-thirsty slut you are even though you’ve been begging me for a break.” And your stomach pangs, a fresh wave of arousal pooling between your thighs despite the rawness because he was more than right. 

“You want attention so bad, you want me to fuck you so bad,” he pulls your hair, making you look straight at him. “Then beg,” and the serious way he looks at you makes you actually start to feel bad for upsetting him so much.

Swallowing your pride, tears prick the corners of your eyes. “Please,” you whimper, “I’ll do anything just please…please fuck me.”

And the words had barely left your lips when fear shot through you, his eyes darkening as you quickly realized that you should’ve been more careful with what you wished for. 

Without warning, he placed you on the bed and flipped you over. Gripping your hips, he hastily pushed you down into a grade-A arch and tucked his tee between his teeth, springing his cock free before knocking a breath out of you with one swift thrust. 

You both gasp, every muscle tensing as your Earths shatter.

Suguru nearly collapses. Your tight pussy that's been dripping and yearning for hours is easy to slide into yet struggles to accommodate his fat girth, but that doesn't stop him from reeling his hips back and pushing in even deeper.

You nearly draw blood from your lip as he begins to thrust with a pent-up intensity that's been building since last night, nearly blue-balling himself to take care of you in your drunken state and fighting the urge to say fuck it and punish you right then and there.

But now that you were good and sober and overly sensitive, he could finally ruin your dick-starved pussy and fuck you blind. 

His hold on you tightens, his knuckles turning white as he fucks into you with a primal urgency. Not caring if you can take it or not because he needs his dick burned into your brain in a way you wouldn’t forget. Besides, who could possibly hold back when you feel so fucking good wrapped around him? Mind-numbing in a way he can never get enough and desperately needs more, and he grips the divots of your waist and pulls you closer, making struggled whines fall from your mouth as he makes you simply take it.

The nerves of your pussy are on fire as every inch of him stretches and hastily fills you, the persistent vibrator on your clit still buzzing and sending you spiraling.

The way he's manhandling you, the soreness in your wrists, and the relentless rhythm of his hips all blend into a rush more intoxicating than anything you had last night until you're overwhelmed and bucking to get away. 

“Uh-uh, don’t run.” And his hand wraps around your neck, pulling you up and back against him, two fingers hooking in your mouth and making you arch so deliciously that every kiss of your cervix sends spasms through your walls and coaxes his cock for everything he’s got. 

"You feel that?" he snaps. "I fucking bet you do." And your breath grows lighter and lighter until your head goes dizzy, your body turning to Jell-O and slowly melting into the bed, but he follows you down and deepens his stroke. You lose your arch, but with one quick thrust, your nails are digging into your palms. He slaps your ass, punishment for making him mess up his rhythm, before hiking you back up and resuming the brutal pace.

Your mind goes blank and his hair falls from its neat bun, sticking to his sweat-slicked forehead from how hard he's fucking you and leaving you caught between begging for mercy and craving more of this delicious torture.

"Look at you," he growls, "Fuckin' brat—ngh—this is what you wanted, right?" And you can barely form a coherent thought, let alone speak, your reply coming out as garbled moans, but Suguru is having none of it, his hand sliding from your neck to your hair and pulling your head back. You cry out, the sound muffled by his fingers still hooked in your mouth as he bottoms out inside you. "I asked you a question," and the room fills with obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin and fumbling 'yeses' from your mouth as he bullies your cervix. 

"Fuck hah," his brows furrow, "you drive me crazy, you know that?" he says, voice strained. "You wanted attention?" he breathes, "Well, now you've got it. Every. Fucking. Inch of it." and each word is punctuated by his leaky tip, making your overstimulated pussy clench and draw a sharp hiss from his lips.

"That's it, baby," his rhythm slightly falters. "Squeeze my cock. Show me how sorry you are." And his hand slips from your lips and snakes around your front, pressing the vibrator even harder against you until the delicious stretch of his cock and the merciless buzzing becomes too much to bear.

Your vision blurs, your thighs quaking and trying to draw together, but there's no escape. 

"You right there?" He pushes through the familiar clench of your walls. "Then cum for me," Suguru commands, and the words are the final push you need for your orgasm to rip through you like lightning—your body involuntarily arching as waves of hot, white pleasure crash over you.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou," you helplessly choke out, walls spazzing and gripping Suguru's cock like shackles, pulsating around him until it forces his own to come chasing after yours.

He struggles for breaths, "Where do you want it, baby?" But it was just a formality, a silly question really, because there was no way he could pull out of your vice-grip. He just needed to know you wanted it as badly as he wanted to fill you up.

"Inside, please, inside me, please," you stammer, still reeling from your own orgasm before he sends you into another, pulling you taunt by the rope and flushing you against his waist.

"Take it," and his moan is low and guttural, his fingers digging into your hips and locking you in as his body tenses, his hot seed flooding and filling you to the brim.

Your eyes meet the top of your head as you cum again in tandem, bliss rippling through your bodies.

"Fuck, c'mere." His lips crash onto yours in a searing kiss, plunging his pulsing cock deep into you one more time as he rides out the last waves of his orgasm, pumping out the last of his seed until you're both panting and trembling and he feels his cum oozing out of you.

Slowly, Suguru releases his grip on your hair, deeply exhaling as he gently lowers the both of you to the bed, his softening cock still nestled inside you. You whimper at the still buzzing vibrator, and he finally switches it off, tossing it aside.

He presses soft, soothing kisses to your shoulder. "You did so well, baby," and he carefully unties the rope, his touch tender and apologetic as he massages the faint marks and kisses your wrists. 

Out of everything you do together, inside and out of your newfound dynamic, this is his favorite part of all: putting you back together after breaking you into pieces.

His unwavering desire to care for you never changes, even when you do the absolute most just to get his attention and show him that you're just as obsessed with him as he is with you—your private but unmistakably commanding Panther and his secretly kinky Powderpuff princess who was now hanging on to life by a thread.

He softly laughs, slinging your limp arms around his neck and pulling you lovingly into his chest as you breathe. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your rib, his lips peppering your head with kisses as he sighed, feeling your heartbeat slowly sync with his.

But after a few moments in each other's arms, a curiosity that's been living rent-free in Suguru's head for quite some time now rears its ugly head—and he just has to know the answer.

"Sooo," he drawls, "... Taichi or me?" And you almost snort, a smile tugging at your lips as you nuzzle his chest. You look up at him with a playful gaze only to find him deadass—figuring that after a day like today, there would be no better time to officially find out if he's finally settled the score with your anime husband.

Your eyes smile, and you reach up with the little strength you have to gently stroke his face and softly kiss his jaw.

You contently sigh. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, babe.”

extended angel's note: oh god what can i say...

i can confidently say that this took me the entire month of september to write and it's definitely the hardest pieces i've worked on so far god bLESS

y'all have no idea how much word count RESTRAINT i had to use just to keep this reasonable (i do have a slightly extended version just for myself tho 🤭)

this was supposed to drop on my bday (unironically the day JJK ended) but life is life 🤠

anywho, thanks for reading 12k words of pure unadultered, unhinged smut. i hope it was worth it 🫶🏿

[marvelandponder]

one amazing thing about the Owl House finale is that it finally contextualized for me one of the central metaphors of the show. Spoilers for the series finale Watching and Dreaming ahead.

we good? no one spoiling themselves? beauty

for a long time now, I thought we had a pretty standard coming-of-age metaphor dichotomized by the show's central antagonists. you've got your protestant witch hunter Belos who introduces a maturity and ugliness to Luz's narrative; he clearly represents a particular, restricting form of adulthood, and just when Belos becomes his most threatening, boom, enter the Collector, Luz's dangerously naïve inner child to ruin all her development on the Boiling Isles. Seems simple enough

what I didn't anticipate was just how specific and personal their roles in the story actually are to Luz once you have the full context from the series finale

look again

this story - this whole series - is about the grief that a neurodivergent kid experienced at a young age, introducing the cruelty of loss and adulthood before she was ready to handle it. and, how to reclaim a more whole understanding of herself as she rebuilds her life with people who get her

Belos is designed to infect the titan carcass like a disease. a cancer. it's super goddamn significant that the titan is King's dad (King, who became Luz's younger brother). they set up Belos not just to be another fascist kids' cartoon villain (although yeah, he do be doing some of that), but to specifically become a force that oppressed the weirdness from the one place that understood Luz. the Iles. the dad. And by the end of the story, Belos's goopy body-horror isn't just for show, he's just like the cancer or other terminal disease that took Luz's dad from her

he's the thing Luz hasn't processed in season 1 that comes in at the end like a warning. he's the threat that forces Luz to grapple with her own humanity, feeling somehow (often completely unjustifiably) harmful to those around her, through the grief she doesn't want to be a burden or the weirdness (neurodivergence) others don't understand. he's the force that says there is something wrong with you, Luz, give in to your grief, this is what you can't face. this is the lie you've been telling to those closest to you: that you're okay

then you have the Collector. (notable that he's a collector, and we see Luz's mom and dad had quite the collection of nerdy memorabilia)

the Collector is the child too young to understand death. Too young to understand consequences, or why their playmates don't feel like playing anymore with someone so weird and maybe a bit too involved in their own world. The Collector is Luz's inner child, that kid we see right before the "worst week ever" — the one who didn't and couldn't understand what was about to happen even as it was going down. unapologetically weird, a bit destructive and short-sighted, but wholly colourful, wholly themselves. that's why the Collector wants to live out Luz's adventures, but without all the depth. just the fun escapist fantasy

but don't think I forgot the internal conflict! :D

because Camila's role also gets an added depth too: Camila was framed at the outset of the series as someone who loved Luz, but wanted her to fit inside a box that she just didn't. later, Luz completely misconstrued her mom's breakdown when she learned that Luz chose to run away. as many people have pointed out by now, Luz misremembers the actual dialogue that Camila says: Camila only wanted her daughter safe, not to lose her. Luz meanwhile felt like she had to choose to destroy this part of herself, or give up her connection with her mom altogether

but we know now Camila actually deeply relates to Luz. she may not understand Luz's fascination with horrific things like on the boiling isles (very akin to a kid getting more grim hobbies in the wake of a death, like Luz's taxidermy), but she loves Luz for who she is. all of her. she never wanted Luz to change

Luz was the one framing the central conflict of the show as go back to her mom or stay in the boiling isles. Luz was the one who felt like she had to punish herself by rejecting the one place where she felt like herself. once Camila realizes what's been going on, and how deeply connected it is to the loss of Luz's dad, she knows Luz is trying to make a "very bad choice for herself." And she won't let that happen (what a great mom!!)

But Luz does have one real choice ahead of her

because of the inner child who once again has to confront death (this time, Luz's own), Luz is able to connect with a father figure, the titan, the one place she feels understood. in the form of a power-up that makes her into a fantasy witch straight out of the Good Witch Azura, the one place she got joy after that huge loss, the titan gives her the strength to face the cancer—a force draining everything good in her life from her and making her question she deserves it in the first place—but only if she can choose herself

and that means choosing happiness, choosing found family, choosing love and friendship and self-discovery in the place she feels most at home! every bond she's forged, everything she's worked for, it all comes down to choosing to face grief and move on in life with weirdos who stick together.

hoot hoot, that's some good metaphor

[kierongillen]

General Player Advice For RPGs

I published this in my newsletter here a while back, and discourse reminded me I wanted to put it more public. I probably should get around to actually doing a proper blog for this kind of stuff. You can sign up to the newsletter here.

One of the things which I’ve been chewing over since getting back into RPGs is that there’s so much advice for GMs and so little advice for players. I keep thinking over why - though the whys aren’t what I’m about to write about. However, some other folk think any worthwhile advice is system/genre specific.

This got me chewing over whether I agree with that. As the list below shows, I don’t.

The first four are ones where I think I succeeded, and as principles generally guide you towards better play no matter what game you’re playing. The last three are mainly applicable to games with a significant story component (the last especially). There’s a few more I played with, but they were more about being a good at the table generally – about being a better player in any game rather than specifically about role-playing games. I also avoided ones which were more GM-and-player advice rather than just player advice (if there’s a problem in game, communicate out of game, use appropriate safety tools, etc).

I also didn’t include “Buy The GM Stuff”.

Anyway – here they are. See what you think.

GENERAL PLAYER PRINCIPLES FOR BETTER PLAY

1) Make choices that support the table’s creative goals

If you’re playing a storygame, don’t treat it like a tactical wargame. If you’re playing a tactical wargame, don’t treat it like a storygame. If it’s bleak horror, don’t make jokes. If you’re in a camp cosy romp, don’t bring in horror. It also varies from moment to moment – if someone’s scene is sincere, don’t undercut it.

2) Be A Fan of The Other Characters

This is GM advice in almost all Powered By the Apocalypse games – for the GM to be a fan of the characters. It’s a good trait for a player to cultivate. Be actively excited and interested in the other characters’ triumphs and disasters. Cheer them on. Feel for them. Players being excited for other players always makes the game better. Players turning off until it’s their turn always makes it worse.

3) Be aware of the amount of spotlight time you’re taking

This is a hard one for fellow ADHD-ers, but have an awareness of who is speaking more and who is speaking less. A standard GM skill is moving spotlight time around to players who have had less time. Really good players do this too. Pass the ball.

4) Learn what rules apply to you, to smooth the game, not derail it.

To stress, this isn’t “come to the table knowing everything” but learning the rules that are relevant to your character along the way, especially if they are marginal (looking at you, Grappling and Alchemy rules). Doing otherwise adds to the facilitator’s cognitive load and hurts the game’s flow. The flip is being aware that knowing stuff isn’t an excuse to break the game’s flow with a rules debate either – that’s an extension of the third principle.

5) Make choices which support other characters’ reality

If someone’s playing a scary bastard, treat them like a scary bastard. If they’re meant to be the leader, have your character treat them like the leader , for better or worse. A fictional reality is shared, and you construct it together.

6) Ensure The Group Understands Who Your Character Is

This is the flip of the above – having a character conception that is clear enough that everyone gets who you are, what you want to do and how you want to do it. If you don’t, the table will be incapable of supporting your choices. This links to…

7) If asked a preference in a story game, a strong choice is almost always better than a middling choice.

Don’t equivocate. If asked “You’ve met this person before. How do you feel about him?” either “I love him” or “I hate him” is better than anything middling. The exception is if it’s something you’re really not interested in pursuing.

[ghost-bxrd]

For the ask game! I (this too) alive

“Your brother,” Bruce starts, stops, steels himself, “He is… Talia’s?”

Damian looks utterly confused, and, oh no, Dick can just feel the onset of a migraine happening like a train crash in slow motion.

“Of course.”

From where he’s sitting, wounds forgotten, Tim is openly gaping now, something like horror in his eyes. No doubt he’s currently imagining another demon spawn trying to cut his grapple line and succeeding, “Never come up— are you kidding!?”

Bruce’s face spasms. Dick wonders hysterically if he’s about to witness someone having a stroke.

“And how old,” he butts in quickly, trying to stick to the important facts because there’s still a good chance that even if the second demon child is also Talia’s, he’s not Bruce’s, and also because, frankly, if he takes more than ten seconds to really think about it he might just try and brain himself on the next good bannister. Something that Alfred would not like at all.

“Nineteen,” Damian responds readily, but there’s a glint in his eyes now that hadn’t been there before, something cautious. Dick knows that look, and he tries to subtly alert Bruce that they have a couple questions left at most before the boy will shut them out.

Bruce, though he’s got the emotional intelligence of a tea spoon, thankfully catches on after a few beats of intense staring, and bulldozes straight to the next question. (Dick is not looking forward to the breakdown from hell a’la Bruce happening later today.)

Which, smart. Damian looks like he’s down to strict, preferably monosyllabic, answers and will fight Bruce with his teeth and an assortment of disguised weaponry if he pushes for more.

Either way, considering it’s Damian, it will end in blood.

“Nineteen, that’s quite…“ Bruce visibly struggles, “old.” He finishes lamely.

Damian’s expression becomes positively frosty and Dick tries to make it look like an accident when he steps on Bruce’s foot. With force.

“Mother and I are grateful for every year we are granted with him,” the boy says stiffly, the barest hint of an accent slipping through the way it tends to when Damian feels cornered and angry, before he visibly reins himself back in and Dick mentally counts down to one.

One more. One question until the baby demon starts throwing sharp things.

B better make it count and ask for the poor kid’s whereabouts or Dick will—

“And why did your mother not bring him to me also?”

— Dick will put laxatives into B’s morning smoothie. God help him, he will dump an entire pharmacy worth of it in there and shove it down B’s throat and make him attend every grueling board meeting he tends to skimp on right after.

[junovae]

hi i know you got an ask really recently but can you maybe do the silly sashimi (seb) x a suicidal reader??? but also reader is really silly and the first thing reader says is “hear me out…” or something??? i love your writing :3

thank you so much reader, i greatly appreciate it (っᵔ◡ᵔ)っ(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶). and don't worry, i got you.

expendable

sebastian solace x reader ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ sfw

artwork: artwork is NOT mine. art is by @miittchan on tumblr, youtube, and twitter. go check out their work and socials, promise it's worth your time.

PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT IF THIS TOPIC IS HEAVY FOR YOU. MAKE SURE TO TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF ALWAYS ૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა

summary: escaping the ghastly prison that was the hadal blacksite was probably the best thing to ever happen to you. so why, if that was the case, did you want to go back?

cw: sebastian x su!cidal!fem!reader, takes place after finishing the game, still in the pressure universe, same timeline as this, mentions of trauma and slight suicidal thoughts, reader is coping, angst and comfort too of course, reader wants to...go back to the hadal blacksite?, reader just misses a certain someone too much, trying to find peace amidst the chaos, no spicy scene for this one

wc: 1.4k

a.n: i think i would want to go back too ngl. also this was just my take on the prompt. BUT, if you were looking for something more like sad reader and sebastian comforting them, i got you too with that headcanon. just lmk!! :)

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

"and last but definitely not least. hear me out..."

you place a picture of him, post transformation and all, onto the cake.

"who's this? he kind of looks like the guy who uhm, you know," your friend stared at you intently, hoping you would get the gist. when you didn't answer, they continued. "back in 2013, remember? with the nine peo-"

"no, no, it's just someone i met at the blacksite," you quickly interjected, forgetting that urbanshade had unjustly faked his death and hid the true story of sebastian solace from the world. "and no, that guy didn't murder them. he was wrongly convicted. just like i was," whispering the last part, you grab forks from the kitchen drawer set the cake onto the dining table.

"right, i'm sorry," they whispered softly, guilt creeping into their voice. hoping to lighten the mood, your friend added, "but no, i’m actually hearing you out on this one. did you know this fish creature personally?"

the two of you take a seat and start munching on the delicious red velvet 'hear-me-out' cake presented in front of you. "you could say that," you smiled cheekily, causing the both of you to burst out into a fit of giggles.

just then, a sharp pain similar to tiny needle stabbings pulse through your upper abdomen and into your chest. a series of flashbacks creep their way into your mind.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸

you’re escorted down the submarine ramp and shoved onto a platform. “just keep walking. if you hear anything strange, hide.”

𓂃 𓈒𓏸

an ear-piercing screech echoes in the distance. you rush to the nearest locker, slamming the door shut just as a pink aura sweeps past.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸

you crawl through a vent and find a small storage room at the end. turning right, you stumble upon a strange fish creature, causing you to jump back. "ah, another expendable," he yawns, unamused. "come in, fishbait. welcome to the shop."

𓂃 𓈒𓏸

volus lunara's searchlights close in. nervous and trembling, you fail the skill-check, getting shocked by the generator. stunned, you lie there as the beam focuses on you. your eyes widen in horror as the monster's grapples pierce your body. this wouldn't be the first time you've experienced this. you'd die a hundred more deaths.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸

hurt and wounded, you collapse in a corner. your head spins as the distinct sound of chains dragging on the ground fills the air. resigned to your fate, you limp toward a corner, exhausted. suddenly, someone grabs you and carries you to a seemingly safe room. “what are you doing, fishbait?” a voice hisses. only one person ever called you that. ���why didn’t you move? you could’ve died,” sebastian snaps, his voice tinged with anger, but there's a hint of worry beneath it.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸

you and sebastian are lying together in the room behind his shop, an unexpected moment of vulnerability. the two of you open up about your pasts. he shares the details of his tragic demise, a painful history that he’s never spoken of before. in the quiet of the room, no longer caring about the consequences, you lean forward and plant a kiss on his cheek. sebastian tilts his head, confusion crossing his face, but there's something else there too—something unreadable.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸

a document? "the saboteur," it reads at the top. as you continue reading, the details unfold—now you understand why he’s been given that name.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸

after days of giving him the silent treatment, sebastian solace finally breaks. finding out that he was the cause of your repeated deaths weighs heavily on you. desperate to fix things, he starts a pillow fight, and through laughter, the tension melts away. eventually, the two of you make up, finding comfort in the shared moment of forgiveness.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸

you try again and again, until one fateful day, you finally make it to the end. as you dry off from your underwater escapade and step into the submarine, a realization hits you. you’ve reached your freedom, but what about sebastian?

𓂃 𓈒𓏸

as you turn from the submarine to search for him, sebastian suddenly appears right behind you. confused, you stare at him. "sebastian, come with me. we can have our freedom and get revenge on urbanshade." he looks at you, his expression sad and melancholy. "i can't go, fishbait."

"yes, you can. come with me, please," you insist.

"look at me. what do i look like to you?" he asks, and you don't see anything wrong with him.

he explains that he has bigger plans, ones that will lead to him meeting you again someday—in human form. you refuse to leave, even as the submarine's hatch starts to close. but in the last moment, he pushes you in. the hatch slams shut, and you’re engulfed in complete darkness.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸

your pulse rushes and eyesight narrows. the room is spinning and the fork in your hands falls onto the table, alarming your friend. your head drops into your hands and you start panting.

"hey, you okay?" they drop the piece of cake with jake sully's avatar on it that they're eating and rush towards you.

"i need space," you shoot at them, feeling their hands on your shoulder. yes, you do feel bad for pushing a friend away but the feeling was too overwhelming. "please, i need space," you repeated again, softly this time.

"yes, i understand." filled with worry, they pat your back one last time before taking one last bite of the cake and grabbing their jacket from the couch. "i'll be back tomorrow, okay? we can finish eating the cake then. just text me when you're feeling better. and please take care of yourself."

nodding your head in acknowledgement, the front door finally closes. you get up, massaging your temples, to lock the front door. your heart is still pounding and face is flushing. you rush to your room and close the door behind you before jumping on your bed. the white sheets engulf your frame as you finally allowed yourself to release the tension you've been feeling all this time.

you desperately scream into your pillow. "this isn't fair at all." you continue to cry, the sound of your soft sobs being the only thing filling the pitch-black room.

months of being trapped in the never-ending death loop in the limbo of the hadal blacksite changed you. now that you were free, nobody believed your testimony against urbanshade. after all, it was one escapee prisoner versus a well-known corporate company. sure, you had your freedom, but the guilt of knowing the company's darkest secrets—the horrid, inhumane experiments they conducted on their captives, the trauma of each death and reset—was consuming you. you had no one to confide in. the only person who truly understood you was still trapped in that very place you purely and vehemently loathed.

expendable. that's what you were. that's what urbanshade had labeled you.

dispensable, nonessential, and powerless.

"i don't want to do this anymore," you softly whisper into the void of darkness consuming you.

...

...

...

...

...

what the hell are you talking about?

you shot up. what the fuck. was that-

please tell me you're not giving up that easily, fishbait.

yeah, no, this was definitely your long-awaited delirium. you were going crazy. the physical and mental stress was driving you insane. but even so... even if it was you finally reaching your limit or even a suppressed memory of him, sebastian solace had promised you that he would see you again one day.

you took a deep breath, steadying yourself in the crushing darkness. maybe you were losing it, maybe that voice was just your fractured mind. but if there was even a sliver of truth, you couldn’t give up. not now. not ever.

"fine, sebastian," you whispered, standing to your feet and wiping your tears. "if you’re still out there, i'll find you. and if this is just my own madness, then i’ll survive long enough to make it back to you—human form or not."

giving up was a harsh reality. but so was fighting back. either way, you knew you couldn't stop. you wouldn’t stop. not until freedom was real for both of you.

you made up your mind. you were going back to the one place in the world you dreaded the most — urbanshade's hadal blacksite.

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

[campoverlook-if]

Welcome to Camp Overlook, Where We're Stronger Together!

DEMO LINK ll Updated: 4/26/24 ll Wordcount: 96k [W/O Code], 23k [Average]

-----

Secrets are all around you in the small town of Crescent Cove, and its local summer camp, Camp Overlook. A place where childhood memories mix with the unsettling realities of the unknown.

A place once known for freedom and friendship, is now shrouded in flickering lights crawling around the woods and campers vanishing into thin air. Far hidden in Hudson Forest is the truth of any person's most horrid nightmares.

As a counselor, you are entrusted with guiding a group of youngsters through their formative days of self-discovery as you grapple with the disturbing circumstances around you.

Whether you are a newbie or a returning former camper yourself, the secrets of the woods are still ominous and crippling. Among the cheer of camp, eerie events unfold before you.

Is Mr. Adams, the cheerful camp director, still a jolly man, or is there something now hidden beneath the surface? Is Crescent Cove, the quiet little mountain town, hiding a secret so great that it will do anything to keep it covered? Are the campers, lovable and rebellious, exhibiting behavior that goes against their nature?

Camp is supposed to fun, so why are you running for your life?

-----

Setting: Crescent Cove, USA (Fictional Small Town)

Genre(s): Horror, Mystery, Drama, Romance

Warning(s): This is an 18+ story for depictions of violence, death, sexual themes, and child endangerment.

-----

Customizable MC - Name, gender, appearance, sexuality, and personality are all choosable aspects to make your counselor.

Get To Know Your Little Campers - The kids look up to you at the end of the day and their relationships with you reflects on the story.

Discover The Mystery of Crescent Cove - Learn the truth on what exactly happened thirty years ago that changed a small town forever.

Find A Summer Lover - Choose from thirteen ROs all looking for someone to love. Maybe you’ll find more than just one...

Meet Your New Best Friends - Create lasting friendships that survive the test of time. Or lifetime rivals that are ready to hurt you at any chance.

The Camp Needs You - Save your friends and protect the camp, or watch it all disappear before your eyes.

Lucas [M] - The King of the Woods

Stuck up, arrogant, and just one half of an irritating duo. Lucas always has to have the last word and the last thing anyone needs is to hear him whine about not getting it. It doesn’t help that the staff like him, the liar. Just be sure to stay out of his way or else.

Asher [NB] - The Sleeping Angel

Completely checked out of life, or at least, that’s what Asher wants everyone to think. There’s just a little something more hiding under that quiet exterior but Asher isn’t the type of person to open up to just anyone. They’ve got demons in their closet, and they’ve come along to camp for the ride.

Jack/Jasmine [M/F] - The Wise Old Tree

If anybody can round up a group of rowdy kids and teens together its this counselor. Calm and collected, they're there when the situation loses control and everyone needs to be working together on the same page. But this personality wasn’t perfected over night and even the calmest of seas can swallow those around them below.

Ethan/Ella [M/F] - The Friend of None

What some may call everyone’s best friend, they're at this camp for one thing and one thing only. To make a summer that’ll last forever. Leader of the pack, they know how to get the populous together and have a good time. But even the party animal has to get tired at some point and it's those moments when the real them emerges.

Ruby [F] - The Little Red Hen

Soft-spoken, polite, and kind to a fault. Ruby is the person you want when you need a comforting hand. A true healer and guiding life even if she is a little shy around others. But all healers have a story, Ruby just doesn’t have the cure to make it all go away.

William/Willow [M/F] - The Undisguised Wolf

They say if you gaze into the abyss, it tends to gaze back and tells you what you’re made of. That’s how it feels when this quiet storm enters a room, the room grows cold and the fun dies out. No one knows what lurks behind those eyes, and no one knows for sure if they’re the eyes of a monster.

Oliver/Olivia [M/F] - The Two-Faced Lover

Excitable, sweet, just the happiest bubble around. Around most people at least. But really, they're just an actor who knows how to play their part. No one knows the real them and maybe that's starting to have a toll on them. But it’s not like they can suddenly do a 180 and show the world who they really are. At least that’s what they like to think.

.....and seven others to discover! (Character Bios Here)

[kinetic-chaos]

How do you overcome something as powerful

as sin?

More below the cut, including old art this is a redraw of.

Tmom has been part of my life for a very long time, and few fan comics have been able to capture my interest as much as it has. (More than likely my angst enjoying ahh speaking there tbh.) But it's genuinely helped me a lot, especially when I was younger.

Tmom was something I could look at and say "yeah, life is shit, and there's very little to find joy in, but hey, these three are managing to to it and they're going through The Horrors too." There's something very weirdly comforting about the themes of loss and grief present in the comic, which are things I find myself grappling onto as someone who has a hard time letting go of people. It's something to look forwards to.

Everything I care about may be gone one day, but there's always going to be new people out there. New bonds and relationships that I may just stumble into completely on accident. It might hurt, and I may never be the same again, but I'll be okay.

I'm infamously not very eloquent when I'm rambling, so I'll stop there. As promised, this was the original piece I drew back in 2017. I remember distinctly sending it to the old Zielo Cave Discord server (back before the "Zielo Cave" name had even been implemented? I think?) It's wild seeing the difference 7 years has made regarding my art.

My heart goes out to Gigi, and I wish them all the best. Thank you for sharing your creation with the world. ❤️

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

Every time I learn something new about Batman: War Games I lose my mind a little bit more cause just, just fuckin, look okay so here's the thing:

Stephanie Brown tries to implement a contingency plan of Bruce's just after he fires her from being Robin and because of that gets tortured to (almost) death and no one knows she survived.

THIS STORY RUNS IN THE NEWS:

So, you know, anyone who might be paying even half a fucking ounce of attention to news about ROBINS would definitely absolutely notice this!!!

And then very very soon afterwards Jason comes back and specifically targets Black Mask to ruin the criminal empire he tortured Stephanie to get

As a way to torment Bruce about the fact that he doesn't take care of the nastiest criminals and they continue killing people

And how Jason should have been the last to die

and SOMEHOW

these two things are in no way related and Jason has nothing to do with or say about Stephanie Brown, fellow Robin, fellow martyred soldier, fellow child dead due to Bruce related villains.

HOLY DEAD SIDEKICKS BATMAN, DO YOU COMPREHEND THE MAGNITUDE OF MISSED OPPORTUNITIES HERE????

please walk with me down a timeline in which:

Lost Days Jason at first just tries to go after the Joker and can't because who he's really mad at is Bruce.

Then he sees Who Really Killed Stephanie Brown and the utter horror of another Robin dying on Bruce's watch (not just dying, but tortured to death!) is what convinces him to try to straight up kill Bruce via car bomb

Roman Sionis is no longer merely a tool against Batman, but another figure to demand vengeance be brought upon, another attempt to give Bruce a chance to right his wrongs and do what needs to be done

The confrontation with him and the Joker being all the more tragic due to how obvious Bruce's answer would have to be once Jason knows Bruce isn't going to avenge Stephanie either

Does Jason, once he escapes the rubble after UtRH is over, kill Black Mask anyways? Does he decide to avenge her himself? Or does he think that she too would demand that of Bruce, and find his death by a different hand unsatisfactory?

If he doesn't kill Black Mask, then when Steph is back, I feel confident he approaches her, tries to reach out to the other dead Robin, almost certainly makes the offer now that he can ask her. Does she take him up on it, gaining an ally and slipping into a far darker role? Does she instead refuse, either appealing to forgiveness or far more interestingly refusing both vengeance and forgiveness? How would Jason handle a refusal, which I gut instinct feel is more likely?

If he does kill Black Mask, then when Steph is back Jason drops his corpse at her feet like a loving housecat with a dead lizard and she has to grapple with her feelings about having someone really and truly avenge her!!! Like how DO you react to someone who you have been warned is wildly dangerous and mentally unstable coming up to you and saying, "I'm glad you're back, like me. I'm sorry you're back, like me. I made sure you could rest knowing he was dead, because I know what it feels like."

Like no matter how each character reacted to this happening there would be so much high stakes emotional shit to explore with both of them!! Revenge I feel like is such a pivotal thing for both characters, they mirror each other in so so many ways, they could be really interesting together if DC would just fucking let them!!!

Jason had a criminal father who he missed and wanted to avenge. Stephanie had a criminal father who she wanted vengeance on.

Jason started off as a fairly gentle soul who progressively became more violent and more hopeless as he was exposed to genuine horrors during his time as Robin. Stephanie starts off violent, angry and rash and finds her own courage and hope through her time as a crime fighter despite of the horrors she's been through.

Jason went to Africa and died there after Bruce failed to save him. Stephanie was taken to Africa via a fake death in order to save her from Bruce and the vigilante lifestyle.

I just...

There's just...

There's SO MUCH HERE I am genuinely fucking confused as to how this is not all deliberate?? And it's all just left on the cutting room floor because for no reason apparent to me they all just decided Stephanie and Jason were not gonna interact!

AAGHHHH!

[thebest-medicine]

Make 24. With Lee! Deku and Ler! Kirishima?

Prompt 24 - "Sounds like someone needs a visit from the tickle monster."

Explosively Ticklish [part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7]

A/N: 'Wait!' You say, 'but Bakugo already got his revenge on everyone!' Yes...... but only the first round. Welcome to Part 7!!! This is the last I have planned out for now but who knows... may be continued further. He's got many more times to go and many more deals to make after all ;)

…

“Sounds like somebody needs a visit from the tickle monster.~” Kirishima sing-songed and bared his teeth in a grin as though a proud predator chancing upon their prey. 

The air in the room seemed to cool, sending a chill running down Izuku’s spine.

He was grappled in an instant. “Heh- wait a second– I hehe- Kirishihihima–” Midoriya whined, squirming as Eijirou wrestled his wrists into place next to his head. They laid there, locked in a brief stalemate, with Izuku against his mattress beneath his friend. 

“And you know…” Kirishima continued, “speaking of tickle monsters… I actually heard there’s one loose in the dorms..” Kirishima murmured, leaning in closer. 

Izuku giggled in anticipation. “Whahahat are you talking about?”

“In fact.. I think it might be close by…” He smirked. 

Izuku’s cheeks were blooming with red. 

Kirishima leaned in, breathing into the sensitive shell of Deku’s ear to make him squirm even more as he said. “You see… they can sense when someone really ticklish is vulnerable.” 

Izuku wailed, wishing he could cover his face. “Kihihihirishima stahahahop teasing!”

There was a knock–loud, more like a bang–on the door. 

“Oh no! Is that it?” Kirishima gasped, squeezing Izuku’s wrists for emphasis. “I think it is! The dreaded tickle monster!” 

He scribbled one hand down into Izuku’s belly for emphasis, making his classmate squawk out a laugh.

“Shuhuhut up!” Izuku snorted. “Whohoho is tha–AHHH!” He shrieked in horror as his door slammed open and a real life tickle monster appeared on the other side: a still-revenge-hungry, smirking Kacchan.

“—NONONO WAIT! KAHAHACCHAN? NO! KIHIHIHIRISHIMA! LEMME GOHOHO!” He was cackling madly, not even being tickled yet. He felt his chances of escaping this unscathed fleeting away. “Nohohot thihihihis! Not NOHOHOW! You tricked meheheheHEHEHE!” 

“Geeeez, giggles, get it together!” Kirishima teased him, poking one finger out to prod at his side. “Not even tickling you yet.” Izuku flinched away. “Save that laugh!”

“Plehehease!” Izuku gave him his best wide, desperate, puppy-dog eyes. Kirishima remained cold, unphased, and rock solid in where he held him down. “NohohohO DON’T! Don’t come any clohohohoser KahahaHAACCHAN!” 

Bakugo’d made his way over to the bed by now. He pressed his knees to the edge of the mattress and looked down, reaching out and starting to make quick work of the socks covering Deku’s feet. “NAHAHA!” Izuku squealed, unable to do anything as his ankles were quickly locked into Kacchan’s arms, whose fingers quickly began scribbling over Deku’s feet where they hung off the end of the bed. 

Kirishima relished the sight of Midoriya cracking instantly, not that he wasn’t already laughing in anticipation. It was less a nervous laugh now, though, more deep and desperate, somehow more jubilant, bubbly. He watched him carefully, then when he felt the resisting strength pushing against his hold faltering, he decided to make his move. 

Quickly, he shifted both wrists into one hand of his own, pinning them up and off to the side of his head. Midoriya blanched, shaking his head when he realized and beginning to plead anew.

Both of his wrists pinned by Kirishima, both of his ankles pinned by Kacchan–who also now seemed to be in the process of rearranging himself to sit over Izuku’s shins. Waist weighted down beneath Kirishima. Izuku’s insides twisted up in a swirl of conflicting emotion.

“Now, die you nerd!” Bakugo declared menacingly. 

Izuku all but wished he could.

Ferocious fingernails scratched up and down his soles, under his toes, along the sides and tops of his feet – they even squeezed up along the backs of his calves. And yet, that wasn’t even the worst of it! 

Kirishima took full advantage of the trapped, ticklish torso beneath him. He scratched his nails under each of Izuku’s arms, pinched his ribs and along his sides one at a time. He even scribbled his fingers over Midoriya’s belly and poked around his belly button, enjoying listening to his friend’s frantic screams of laughter. By the time Kirishima made it down to squeeze at Midoriya’s hips, he was barely able to do more than laugh frantically and squirm weakly.

“Hey, go pin those up over his head.” Midoriya heard Bakugo order, and then there was suddenly less pressure on his waist and legs, only to be replaced by weight along the tops of his thighs. Then, his arms were being tugged up. 

“Nooooooooooo..” Izuku cried weakly as Kirishima sat over his arms and effectively pinned his upper body, helpless and sensitive, between the two of them.

“Right, now, let’s really get to it.”

“NOHOHOHOHO! HEHEHEHEHEHELP!”

…

By the time they were done –or at least, giving him a break for now, as far as he knew– Izuku had lost his voice to laughter. He was hoarse, wheezing for air as he exasperatedly asked for water. 

Kirishima got up at once, grabbing him a bottle and helping him sit up a bit to sip on it as he held it to his lips. “Man, I thought you were gonna die for a second there… That was brutal.” Kirishima laughed lightly. “You’ve gotten tougher!”

“Yeah whatever, that’s what he gets.” Bakugo replied, the annoyance in his tone more fond and teasing than truly irritated.

Izuku chuckled hoarsely, laying back against the bed as Kirishima put the water down on the bedside table. He wheezed out his next question carefully. “Thihis.. heh- sihihince there’s twohoho of you… does *hic* this count as- hehe- two times?”

“No, stupid!” Katsuki shot him an angry look, shouting. “This was one time! Three left!”

“Whyhyhyhy not?” Izuku whined weakly.

“Do you wanna go back to four left?” He threatened

“Nohohoohoho…” Midoriya whimpered, covering his face with his hands and shrinking in on himself. “I’m sorryehehehehe…”

“Hey, come on Bakubro, are you trying to say I didn’t count?” Kirishima goaded, bumping Bakugo’s shoulder. “Trapped him here for you… Did a real number on him too, I’d say! You don’t think I helped at all?!” 

“What? No, you– we..” Katsuki tightened his lips, thinking for a moment.

Kirishima squeezed Izuku’s arm in support, hoping to help reduce his friend’s ‘sentence’ a little.

“Okay, yeah, whatever. I guess that’s true. You did a good job wrecking his shit, Shitty Hair.” Katsuki conceded with a grumble, complimenting his friend as he went. “This can ..count as two or whatever.”

Izuku’s breathing slowly returned to a semi-normal pace. 

Once Izuku was more calmed down and sure to be alright after the surprise attack, the other two got up. 

“Keep your eyes out for me, nerd.” Bakugo grumbled, stomping out of the door.

Izuku spoke up softly after he left and they were alone for a moment, giving the other student a thumbs up. “Thanks, Kirishima.” 

“Only fair. He gave me one off mine for helping him.” Eijirou winked. 

“Wait what–!?”

“–G’night Midoriya!” He finished, quickly shutting the door on his indignant friend. He stepped out into the hall to follow after his grumpy tickle monster of a friend, walking with a smile on his face.

…

[more sentence starter fic prompts]

[other sentence starter fics]

[read this & further MHA drabbles on ao3]

[bi-panicatthedisco]

Random incorrect twst first-year quotes I saved

Deuce: Throw lamps at people who need to lighten up, and throw handles at someone who needs to get a grip!

Ace: Throw a refrigerator at someone who needs to chill!

Yuu: Throw scissors at someone who needs to cut it out!

Jack: Throw a clock at someone who needs to get with the times!

Sebek : Throw matches at someone who needs to get fired up!

Epel: Throw a brick at someone to kill them!

Yuu: Time for plan G.

Jack: Don’t you mean plan B?

Yuu: No, we tried plan B a long time ago. I had to skip over plan C due to technical difficulties.

Epel: What about plan D?

Yuu: Plan D was that desperate disguise attempt half an hour ago.

Sebek : What about plan E?

Yuu: I’m hoping not to use it. Deuce dies in plan E.

Ace: I like plan E.

*when the Squad drops food*

Deuce: Eh, oh well.

Epel: FIVE-SECOND RULE!

Ace: FUCK!

Jack: *just gets more food*

Yuu: *drops to their knees and mourns the food*

Sebek : *eats the food off the ground*

*the Squad at Disneyland, in the teacups*

Sebek, Jack, and Deuce: *spinning a little and talking*

Epel, Ace, and Yuu: *flying past them, spinning as fast as they can, screaming*

Epel: The floor is lava!

Jack: *helps Sebek onto the counter*

Ace: *kicks Deuce off the sofa*

Yuu: *lays on the floor*

Epel: ...Are you okay?

Yuu: No.

Jack: Man, they look like a real handful. How do you deal with them?

Yuu, watching Sebek screaming, Ace trying to set a sleeping Deuce on fire, and Epel choking on air: I don't know either.

Deuce: We need to distract these guys

Ortho: Leave it to me

Ortho: Centaurs have six limbs and are therefore insects. Discuss.

Yuu, Ace, and Epel: *Immediately begin arguing*

Jack, watching in horror: Oh this. I don’t like this. I don't like this at all.

'Can I copy the homework?'

Ortho: I can help you with it!

Deuce: Yeah, sure.

Yuu: Bold of you to assume I did the homework.

Ace: lol nope.

Epel: Wait, we had homework?!?!?!

Jack: *Read 5:55pm*

Yuu: Who the fuck added me to a fucking group chat?

Ortho: >:O language

Deuce: Yeah watch your fucking language

Epel: OKAY WHO TAUGHT DEUCE THE FUCK WORD?

Ace: 'The fuck word'.

Sebek: Are you stupid? You guys use the f word all the time

Deuce: Oh my god they censored it

Epel: Say fuck, Sebek.

Ace: Do it, Sebek. Say fuck.

Yuu: Well, aren’t you all a rag-tag group of adventurers with unclear goals and good hearts! Oh, let me guess: you’re out to save the world!

Jack: Well, actually, that sounds like a pretty fair assessment.

Deuce: More or less, I guess...

Ortho: That sounds awesome! Let’s do that!

Epel: I’m new here, but I am open to the concept.

Ace: I thought that’s what we were doing, guys, come on!

Yuu, walking into their house: Hello, people who do not live here.

Ace: Hey.

Deuce: Hi.

Jack: Hello.

Ortho: Hey!

Yuu: I gave you the key to my place for emergencies only!

Epel: We were out of Doritos.

Ortho: Hewwo.

Ace: Hihiiiiii!

Sebek: Greetings, Humans.

Jack: Three kinds of people.

Deuce: I want pudding.

Jack: Four kinds of people.

Yuu: WHAT’S UP FUCKERS?

Jack: Five kinds of people.

Yuu: Would you slap Deuce-

Ace: Yes.

Yuu: I didn't even finish!

Ace: Sorry, continue.

Yuu: Would you slap Deuce for 10 dollars?

Ace: I would do it for free.

Deuce: Rude...

Epel: Remember, when burying a body, make sure to cover it with endangered plants so it’s illegal to dig up!

Epel: Make sure to follow me for more gardening tips!

Grim: Tomorrow’s the Cooking Contest. Yuu always tells me one thing every year. They say, “You might win if you’d stop eating your entry!” But how would I know whether it’s an award-winning dish without tasting it first? This may be a problem humanity will have to grapple with for eternity…

Ace: It’s funny how well you and Sebek get along. Didn’t they hate you at first?

Yuu: Sebek hates everybody at first. It’s their way of reaching out to people.

Deuce: Where's Epel?

Yuu: Don't worry, I'll find them.

Yuu, shouting: Jack sucks!

Epel , distantly: Jack is the best person ever! Fuck you!

Yuu: Found them.

Yuu: I left instructions for everyone while I'm gone.

Grim : Mine just says "Grim no."

Yuu: I want you to apply it to every possible situation.

Yuu: I have an idea.

Jack: A good idea?

Yuu: Let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Ortho: You believe me?

Yuu: Ortho, you’re the last good person on this planet. I‘d believe cartoon birds braided your hair this morning.

Yuu: I give up. I am so tired.

Ace: Get the emergency supply!

Ortho: *carries Grim and places them in front of Yuu*

Grim: *smiles*

Yuu: AND I AM BACK BABY, LET’S GOOO

[oneslimybastard]

mouthwashing spoilers ig bewaaare it's so fascinating just How Much people hate Jimmy Mouthwashing, despite that when it comes to Evil Deeds he actually lags behind a lot of other horror characters.

He's not a serial killer. He's not even really a killer (the only person he hands-on murders is Swansea in implied self defense). He's bitter, entitled, emotionally immature, impulsive, misogynistic, a rapist and enabled by Terminal Nice Guy Curly. Aka, a guy you've worked with, or a pissy uncle that keeps getting invited to christmas out of enforced politeness, your boyfriend's friend who keeps making you uncomfortable and you keep being told that he's a "good guy" deep down. A scumbag of which there are a dime a dozen of.

Any readings that he was a machivallian evil mastermind to me feels like huffing cope. Because the entire game is just Jimmy fuckign, floudering, as his actions suddenly have a lot of consequences that he wasn't emotionally equipped for. He thinks he can fix things, and that it's not really his fault, sure he assaulted Anya but she wasn't supposed to get pregnant from it, sure he crashed the ship in a temper tantrum but he didn't think Curly would get meatified from it. He sends Daisuke into the hutch because he's too much of a coward to do it himself, but he wasn't supposed to get injured from it. Yeah he's treated Anya like shit but she wasn't supposed to kill herself. Swansea comes after him with an axe — that wasn't supposed to happen either. And at the very end, Jimmy martyrs himself to "save" Curly (how saved he gets from being turned into a cryofrozen treat is debatable but I like to think it does ensure his survival, for the themes), so he can have some fucking solace that he managed to set things right before he kills himself — when in actuality all he did was ensure that he will run from taking responsibility for the rest of time.

After all, no one can hold you accountable if you're dead.

Jimmy isn't evil, you the player would be much more comfortable with his character if he WAS evil. He's just pathetic, making excuses, and emotionally lashing out, lashing out over the trauma he inflicted on someone else having consequences for him he sees no obvious escape from for once. Curly can't nepo him outa this one, lads. And all it takes is a few button presses to doom the entire ship.

Then he doesn't even have the guts to own it. He doesn't have the guts to own what a shitty person he is, called out directly in-text by Swansea who like we stan Swansea but I would not be surprised if his list of crimes (minus ship-crashing) looked exactly like Jimmy's, sexual assault included.

And that's the whole point of Mouthwashing innit. The worst guys you know will be some dick who refuses to own up to his own scumbaggery because he can't stand to look himself in the mirror if he does, and the people who cover for him. Evil doesn't exist (the contexts for where I think it does is a different and politically loaded conversation), usually it's just Some Fucking Guy who thought he was too good for therapy and magikarp splashed his path of carnage through other people's lives because of it.

Jimmy could have set things right, but that meant grappling with what a shitbag he is and the damage he caused Anya, and for certain people embittered by their own mediocrity, Armageddon is just the much more glamorous option.

And when he's forced to pick up the pieces and take responsibility, he breaks. Despite how much we hate it, it's very easy in this world to become a Jimmy, to fuck up and hurt people and then just go nuh-uh-nuh-uh until we've convinced ourselves we really did nothing wrong; to brainwash ourselves into thinking running away from accountability is the noble action. Even easier to become a Curly, with a pet Jimmy scrambling around that you can't be fucked to hold accountable because that's like, so messy, and a bother, it's fine, he's just a little grouchy you guys. Yes yes Anya I hear your concerns but like... I dunno, this puts me in a really complicated situation, you understand?

People know this instinctively, and that's why they feel like they have to parade Jimmy around like the Worst Guy Ever, to wash their hands of him, since that's more soothing than thinking about how much of a Boring Regular Guy he actually is. A Boring Regular Guy you've got in your life right now who kind of puts you off but nobody is actively dealing with. You included.

That's probably a large part of why this game haunts people, and why Jimmy just gets under their skin so bad to call him like the most irredeemable guy ever. In a genre he shares with like the Mad Father himself and Sachiko the torture ghost from Corpse Party, or the lady from the Amnesia DLC, etc. etc. (Astarion BG3 is also Objectively a shittier guy than Jimmy Mouthwashing, which isn't a fair comparison because different genres with different stakes, but it is a funny one.)

also he's in yaoi with curly soooooorry it's in the text as he cradles that meated up bod and stares straight into curly's bulging eyeball and forcefeeds him pills. and then his own leg. his love language is just complicated ok dont judge.

[trashcanfanfics]

I see you're taking Jason Todd requests?👀 Hello, I'm new to the fandom btw! So... I thought of a scenario. What if the reader and Jason is on the edge of asking each other out, and he's on patrol one night, finding it quite boring, and the reader send him their playlist... only it was the reader's... ✨️spicy✨️ playlist?👀 As in, Arctic Monkeys (Do I wanna know?, Why'd you only call me when you're high?) and Two Feet (I feel like I'm drowning, Love is a bitch) type of vibes?

Thank you for your time and a pleasure to meet you!🥺

hi!!! omfg it's been too long since i've had a fresh ask!! i'm a long time enjoyer of dc but i'm new to writing for it, welcome to the fandom!!

It was one of those slow nights. No big baddies, only a few muggers, one shifty man following someone. Nothing big to distract Jason from his thoughts of you. How you were so close to him but it felt like miles. He could lie and say all he wanted was you to smile at him. Jason knew the truth, though. You could smile at him one hundred times and he'd want one hundred and one.

He texted you and smiled under the helmet as you ranted about your latest interest. It was so cute the way you'd misspell words in your frenzy. He felt giddy as he got another text from you.

[Name]: You said you're boeed?

[Name]: *bored

[Name]: Anyway I've been curating my personal playlist

[Name]: Give it a listen :) [link.spotify]

He clicked the link and scrolled through the songs idly, not really paying attention before he clicked on one. It connected to his helmet's comm piece. The slow beat hit him and he recognized it. Okay so one song. And then it progressed to more like that one.

Was this a subtle way of flirting? Was this because you wanted him like he wanted you? He was probably making it out to be more than it is. It's not like you even looked at him like that. You said it was your personal playlist. So you had to listen to this all the time. So it's probably nothing. Part of him wondered if you ever thought of him while listening to these songs. The thought made his heart jump.

He made up his mind. He grappled away across the rooftops all the way to your apartment. Jason hardly registered that he opened the door, your playlist still playing in his ears. You looked up from your phone on the couch.

"Jason?" You stood up and walked to him. He struggled to pull his helmet off. The sound of your playlist softly played into the air from it. You stiffened and looked at the helmet. "Is that the playlist I sent you?" He knew he was breathing a little too hard. You so close after he had the lyrics of the latest song bounced around his head had him dizzy.

"Yeah...It's good." He huffed a laugh and looked down at the helmet, still playing those soft, sensual songs. "It's your personal one?" He scratched some dirt off the chin. Jason looked back to you through his eyelashes, a small smirk playing at his lips. Your face looked mortified.

"No..." You voice was soft and full of horror. "I sent the wrong one." You covered your face with your hands and apologized. He tossed his helmet onto the nearby chair. His hands found your wrists, gently pulling your hands from your face.

"Well, I really like this playlist." His smirk turned into a full, teasing smile. Your embarrassment showed clearly on your face and you looked away from him. His heart fluttered at how cute you looked.

"I meant to send the other one." You mumbled and he leaned in slightly to hear you clearer. That made you clam up and glance at him before looking back to the side. He could feel your breath on his face and it drove him crazy.

"Look at me." He was practically begging. He needed you to look at him like he needed to breathe. You complied, gasping at how he leaned in further. His lips were so close to yours. If he just leaned in a bit more...

"Buy me dinner first." You chuckled nervously. Your comment made him blink, his senses coming back to him in an instant. He pulled away and let go of your wrists, clearing his throat. Jason mentally kicked himself for getting too caught up in the moment.

"Sure, how's Saturday sound?" He joked back, half serious. His heart jumped as you met his eye, a glint of determination in yours. You gulped and stood up straighter.

"It's a date." You looked serious. He felt his heart thump harshly, a bubble of hope filled his chest. Were you joking? You didn't look like it. It looked like you were far from joking. His mind raced, he couldn't think of anything to say.

"Huh?" Brilliant, Jason, truly so eloquent. He wanted to smash his head into a wall. You almost lost your resolve. He could see it in the way you started to fidget with your hands. You were nervous.

"A date. With me." You took a deep breath. "Only if you really want to." He couldn't believe it. A date. For real. His mind went blank and he found himself at a loss for words. The second time tonight. That should be a record. How many times can he blue screen in one night.

"That sounds--yeah. Uh I mean--" Shut up. Shut up. "I'll pick you up. Um, what time?" Your laugh had him blushing and looking over to his helmet, still playing the playlist. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Does six sound okay?" He looked back at you, composure back in his control.

"Yeah, that sounds perfect." You smiled. He couldn't wait. He wanted to lean in again and kiss you. There would be time for that later, he reminded himself. You said dinner first. He'll give you dinner. Then he'll get a kiss. Hopefully.

[raconteur-wanpi]

ONE PIECE 1123

Dear lord I have so many thoughts I don't even know where to begin. This was a pretty short and lower stakes chapter compared to all the chaos and the bombs that came before it, but I think despite that, it gave me more revelations and thoughts than some of those ones did. It's all vague stuff like, it's soup in my brain but it just keeps getting more interesting.

Starting off with S-Snake continuously showcasing normal human behavior. I really like the insistence of the story of honing in that the Seraphim are, in fact, people. They are children. Their existence is horrific and it IS supposed to make you feel uneasy, especially comparing them to the rest of MADS' history of experiments. I do think, in a story about freedom, that these authority-chip-ridden-kids will eventually seek out their own freedom and independence to be people instead of weapons. Alber himself was a victim of MADS' experimentation, so was Kuma, Sanji, Mocha, every victim of the Smile fruits, hell- Bonney was a victim of the science of the Gorosei / Saturn. It's very interesting to continuously see Stella's role in all of this, and how Oda showcases that you could put the nicest guy alive into the same system as the most wretched monsters, and they will produce the same results. Which does bring me to this realization moving forward:

Sanji is in fact the person that was closest to the events of Vegapunk's death. He is specifically chosen out of all the strawhats to be the one to grapple with Vegapunks decision and sacrifice, and he is the only member of the strawhats to have experienced the horrors of MADS firsthand. I find that very interesting, it's looking at that dilemma of morality again. How do you judge a person who has spent years creating weapons of war, even if it's been the result of his naivete? How does a person who realizes what he has done, redeem himself? Death? Sacrifice? Admitting you can only throw your life away to undo the damage, to the face of someone who you know understands the horrors of such science? I don't know, it's interesting.

Going back a bit however, I think my favorite page in the chapter, is this. My god. Luffy thanking Emeth, full of joy, smile across his face in his Nika form, juxtaposed to the Iron Giant's dark unresponsive face. It's so moving and joyful and sad, genuinely. The brightness of the sun against the shadow of a sacrifice. Emeth in his "death" looks somehow both content and saddened. Luffy's recognition and gratitude towards him. OK. I'm fine. Damn.

Back to Vegapunk, this has been wild to see said textually when I've seen many people, myself included, discuss it. "Evil" and "Greed" being the two things Stella ended up leaving behind, despite his best efforts to do good. He recognizes greed was his downfall, his desire to continue building and discovering, without thinking about the consequences of it; just what we discussed earlier. It's also interesting that they all suspected Lilith at first, but she turned out not only to be innocent, but also a valuable ally in the battle and the only other survivor. Lilith leaving the garden, Stella being the forbidden apple (of knowledge) that brought about the downfall, the Gorosei being demonic entities that entered that space, it definitely is all very biblical. I wonder if Lilith will see a path towards becoming a more complete person, rather than, as Stella says here, a compartmentalized personification of "Evil". Similar to what I hoped for earlier with the Seraphim and Kuma (or even the Vinsmokes if you want to go there), a manifestation of full (rather than artificially partial or removed) personhood.

This is something I've been thinking about the entire time as well! Is Vegapunk really dead? Is it just his body? What does it mean to be able to keep your consciousness separate from said body? Within other people, even? Is he really dead as long Lilith and York are around? Is Stella himself, still in there, in Punk Records? Could you bring him back? Much to think about.

Aaaand closing in with my second favorite moment from this chapter. The confirmation we're going to Elbaf! Usopp being help up by the giants! His arc begins! I am so so giddy. I know I'm biased considering he's, well, my favorite One Piece character but, god. I am as nervous as hyped. I am so, so excited. This is delightful, he deserves this!