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#IF ANYONE WANTS TO WRITE THIS AS A FIC TAG ME SO I CAN SOB AS I READ IT
whumpril · 1 year
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Whumpril 2023 approaches!
Rules:
Anyone can participate.
Any media form is allowed (art, fic, gifs, music, whatever).
You can participate however much or as little as you want, no pressure to complete every single day.
You can post your work anywhere on the internet, Tumblr, Ao3, etc.
Tag potential triggers and NSFW accordingly.
If you want to be counted as an official participant and have the chance to be featured on the blog, post your content during the month of April. You can still use the prompt list after April ends.
I can’t guarantee that every single work will be featured but I’ll try to reblog as many as I can.
To increase your chances of being featured here, tag your post with the event name and the prompt of the day that you used (For example: #whumpril2023, #whumprilday1, #red alert) 
You can also @ the blog, @whumpril.
Full write-up of the prompts can be found under the cut!
Whumpril 2023 Prompts:
1. Red Alert | Distress Call | Panic Attack
2. Stress | Insomnia | “Get some rest.”
3. Rope Burns | Knife to Throat | “Hold still.”
4. Ache | Massage | Needle
5. Defiance | Dragged | Stifled Scream
6. Salve | Painkillers | Bad Coping Mechanisms
7. Numbness | Unsteady | “You look pale.”
8. Nausea | Comfort Food | Dehydration
9. Pinned Down | Bruises | “Who did this to you?”
10. Shiver | Breathless | “I’m scared.”
11. Nightmares | Bedside Vigil | “I’m right here.”
12. Friendly Fire | Toxic | “Get away from me!”
13. Blurry Vision | Support | “I think I need to sit down.”
14. False Smile | Holding Back Tears | “I said I’m fine.”
15. Isolation | Flinching | “Do you trust me?”
16. Guilt | Shock | “I’m so sorry.”
17. Cry For Help | Self-Treatment | “I can’t do this.”
18. Abandoned | Escape Attempt | “Take me instead!”
19. Choking | Muffled Sobs | “I’m worried about you.”
20. Disoriented | Sensory Deprivation | “Where am I?”
21. Scars | Fracture | “It’s just a scratch.”
22. Sponge Bath | Infection | “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
23. Smoke | Bloodstains | Sharing Clothes
24. Secrets | Under Duress | “What have you done?”
25. Heart Racing | On the Run | “We’re being watched.”
26. Explosion | Short on Time | “I won’t leave you!”
27. Forced To Kneel | Grabbed by Collar | Stepped On
28. Bedridden | Semiconscious | Light Sensitivity
29. Surrender | Punishment | “Final warning.”
30. Holding Hands | Human Shield | “Don’t let go.”
Alternative Prompts:
If there’s a prompt above you don’t feel inspired or comfortable doing, you can switch it out with one of these alternatives!
1. Ice Pack
2. Ransom
3. Gaslighting
4. On the Edge
4. Waiting Room
5. Un/Forgiveness
6. Food Poisoning
7. Heat Exhaustion
8. Forced To Crawl
9. Mandatory Leave
10. Search and Rescue
11. “Don’t push me away.”
12. Words That Can’t Be Taken Back
13. “Let me know if you need anything.”
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kiwiana-writes · 2 months
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Six(ish) Sentence Sunday
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Thanks for the tag @hgejfmw-hgejhsf and @onthewaytosomewhere - it's always nice when I'm not kicking the week off lmao. I didn't get a lot of writing done this week because I was busy editing the Going Platinum podfic I posted today, but I've powered through so I have something to share!
Rockstar Alex is now officially fully epistolary, because I figured out how to get #3 from the five fun facts game into a fully epistolary format. If you are thinking to yourself, "Great! If it's fully epistolary then it can't hurt as much!" I would advise you to turn to your nearest Schitt's Creek fandom buddy who has read my fics in that fandom and ask them how they feel about chapter 5 of Meet me out at the end of my rope (aka angstapalooza), and calibrate accordingly 😈
SO. Below the cut is a little sneak peek of this with the skin on (and some bonus Reddit comments because when I go epistolary I go balls to the wall), but if you don't want to venture under the cut, enjoy the text version of an r/TIFU post:
TIFU by breaking my no-hookup rule Obligatory ‘this didn’t happen today’ but my friends are still making fun of me days later, so. I’m not a hookup/cruising kind of gay. Full respect to you if you are, it’s just never been my thing - I’m more of a serial monogamist type But it was my friend’s birthday last weekend and we all went out to a gay bar, and I ended up dancing with this guy who… honestly if I describe how off the charts hot he was you wouldn’t believe me anyway, so you’ll just have to trust me on this. He was there with a friend and the friend bought us a few rounds of vodka shots before fucking off somewhere, so me and this guy went back to dancing. And then the dancing was grinding, and then we were making out for a bit before he said he was gonna go to the bathroom with THAT head tilt. You know the one. Even my no-hookups ass knows the one. And yeah, I don’t do hookups, but fuck it. I said yes (I really cannot express how hot this guy was lol) and followed him to the bathroom. I won’t get into all the details but suffice to say getting blown by this dude was a religious experience. I’m just getting to the point of no return when he pulls back all of a sudden. And he’s got tears in his eyes, but I just thought it was from like… well, you know… but then he STOOD UP. I was like “what the fuck dude” and he just started APOLOGIZING, saying something about the song????? I hadn’t been paying attention tbh, I was a bit busy having my brains sucked out through my dick, but this guy just muttered something about the song and his ex and then he LEFT ME in the fucking club bathroom, dick bobbing in the wind. I think I’m back to no hookups from now on tbh. TL;DR: first ever hookup ended with a stranger literally sobbing his way off my dick, and ACD’s new song is a banger, but I’ll probably never be able to hear it without thinking of the worst case of blue balls I’ve ever had.
Forever feeling feral for whatever y'all are up to, so tagging @affectionatelyrs @anchoredarchangel @anincompletelist @blairwaldcrf @cha-melodius @clottedcreamfudge @cricketnationrise @cultofsappho @daisymae-12 @dumbpeachjuice @everwitch-magiks @firenati0n @getmehighonmagic @happiness-of-the-pursuit @heybuddy-drabbles @indestructibleheart @indomitable-love @inexplicablymine @leaves-of-laurelin @littlemisskittentoes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @matherines @myheartalivewrites @ninzied @notspecialbabe @orchidscript @rmd-writes @sherryvalli @ships-to-sail @smc-27 @sparklepocalypse @ssmtskw @stereopticons @tintagel-or-cockleshells @welcometololaland @whimsymanaged and, as always, anyone who wants to play! (If you take the open tag please tag me so I can see!!)
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http-redshoes · 8 months
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Editing my Favorite DCA Content Creators (Part One <3)
Ac: quicxy.ae (Insta)
Ib: The entire CSM manga girls edit/meme trend going on lol (also ps!! This is a loop edit hehe)
Sdt: Bam, Lily, Naff, Bean, Luce, Cherry, & Ray
Song: The Lost Soul Down by NBSPLV
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So hello everyone! I'm your host, Fandom, here today to bring you an edit featuring seven of my favorite users here 💞💞💞
As someone who's been a silent appreciator of the Tumblr DCA community since 2021, I've been loving the content made here from the blogs I could view without an account.
But now? Now I finally got my account made this year!! I can finally interact with the community since I couldn't get it up earlier due to personal reasons, but all that matters now is that I'm here :'D
As the headline suggests, this is only part one of my editing appreciation! I have more users to go through...
(Sneak peek at who I plan on editing next/the sad slow progress of it 😓)
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Buttt I completed this first part for now
:'D
(Please excuse me if my art is a bit on the icky side or if I drew anyone's self insert weird - I've been going through it with art block and I apologize in advance if I butchered anyone in my art style.)
But without further ado, I hope that the users I'm going to tag enjoy this!!
(And if you have any comments/anything you want to say in the reblogs about this little project idea I have, it would be greatly appreciated to hear them out as a new user/gen)
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Now here's the art featured in the edit!
First off we got @bamsara
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Who I've been perceiving since like. The BNHA fandom with their comics haha. They're really skilled in their art, fanfic writing AND cosplaying! So many mediums they're indulging in it's great :D
Next up is @paper-lilypie
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I love her art (the art style she draws in is so pretty like omg) and her CCRT fic!! (Also after seeing her blog can I just say YES YES FELLOW ONE PIECE *AND* MOB PSYCHO 100 ENJOYER??? LET'S GOOO she's definitely goated you guys.)
Now for @naffeclipse
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I teased this piece in an ask I sent her and like??? She's one of the most sweetest fanfic writers ever???
I've made content for her fics in the past with the help of my wonderful amazing talented beautiful bestie River, (aka @the-river-runs ) , to post them and her comments on them make my day. Got me ugly sobbing in the corner with her kindness.
Now for @just-a-drawing-bean
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Got me ugly sobbing in the corner x2 yet dying of laughter at their "meme-y" art of Sleuth Eclipse or those booty DCA animations. Also ugh their regular art too in general is also good I will and can eat up every piece they make >:)
Then @lavenoon
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Can I just say their comics are everything? From the ones they have of their Accidentally Undercover AU to the ones they make for Naff?? (Also Luce is so sweet as well I'm glad to call them my mutual :'D)
Thennn we got @cacaocheri
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Her DCA content is really good but also her OCS THOUGH??? Ate up their lore in Insta dms also I plan on drawing them one day after I'm done with some other stuff.
And last, but not least, we have @rayjeff
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Ray's art is also *chef kiss* her rendering on several pieces got me FLOORED I don't think I can be normal about her artwork :') (also eyyy fellow TOH and Villainous watcher here <333)
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And that's it! I got like this scrapped Bam thumbnail for the edit as well:
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Butttt I got rid of it because?? Well it would ruin the looping of the edit sorry lol
Thank you everyone for your time. By the time this is posted I'm speeding to my Insta broadcast channel and story to upload these the grind never sleeps I am but on a roll with producing content.
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nerdyvocals · 8 months
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9 People to Know Better (except I'm not tagging 9 people)
I don't normally do tag games, but I got tagged in this twice (by @jealous-kippen and @remmixx, my beloveds <3) so here I am! (also as I'm writing this out I am realizing that while both posts were titled the same way, it looks like they had different question prompts??? So I'm just gonna combine the two)
Favorite Color: Purple! Any shade will have my heart but I am partial to more red-toned purples. (PV, if that means anything to anyone who sees this other than me, you know who you are)
Currently Reading: Three things! In terms of actual books, I've been slowly making my way through the Riordanverse since my university did The Lightning Thief in my second year (first school in my state to do it once the rights were released!) since I somehow never got into Percy Jackson as a kid, and I'm currently on Son of Neptune. I'm also one like my third or fourth re-read of Eurydice by Sara Ruhl, since that's the play I'm designing the costumes for for my senior project. And in terms of fanfic, I woke up to a notification about this yesterday and Actually Screeched.
Last Song: Dial Drunk by Noah Kahan (ft. Post Malone), which was a bit of an accident. I use siri to request music while I'm driving and I asked for Dial Drunk and was singing along until I got jumpscared by the slight difference before Post Malone's verse. Although if you look at my spotify, the ROTPL album has been on repeat for weeks.
Currently Watching (Series): I've been hyperfixated on ROTPL and have watched it over a dozen times at this point, which is probably not healthy, so I put on NCIS last night for background noise while I ate dinner and accidentally watched like six episodes.
Currently Watching (Movie): Saw the Barbie movie the night before the actual opening with my coworkers (We don't cross picket lines people! I was not asked nor invited by any company, and I paid full price for my ticket. There's a one-screen theatre in the town where I'm doing summer stock, this relic from the 50's, and they were able to get access to the film a day early and did a special first come first serve premiere.) and we all sobbed the entire way through.
Current Obsession: Rise of the Pink Ladies. Full stop. I'd seen clips of it when it first aired in April but I was iffy on it in spite of how good it looked. Like most, I'm a little tired of reboots and remakes, and while I did clock Cynthia as being queer within two seconds, (I believe my exact words were "That's either a very butch lesbian or the eggiest egg to ever egg.") I was Convinced it was a queerbait situation. Plus I was nearing finals and didn't have time to get into a new show. But then Crushing Me was trending on tiktok and I realized this was not queerbait, so I put it on to have something playing while I packed for summer stock and it's been the only thing I can think about since mid May. It got me writing fanfic again for the first time in years, if that tells you anything. Speaking of,
Currently Working On: A follow-up to my previous fic, Steady, Steady! I wanted to have it up this week, but it is a behemoth. I'm a little over halfway through my plot outline and I'm at 10,441 words. Fun fact, this will be my longest single-chapter fic so far. Not just in the fandom, not just on AO3, but ever (so far!)
No-Pressure Tagging: @merely-a-player, @penguin-writes-books, @el-fandom-birb, @marley-barnes112, @isweartheyregayyourhonor, and @look-at-those-niceass-rocks (since I've already dragged you back to tumblr kicking and screaming)
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theotherbuckley · 3 months
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Seven Sentence Sunday
Hi guys, I haven't shared in a while but I am back with some more healing fic (yay) I still don't know why I call it healing fic when there is yet to be any evidence of that. Maybe I should start writing the actual healing stuff today.. we will see. Anyway, here you go:
Buck stays on the floor for a long time (maybe it’s not that long but Buck doesn’t really have the brain power to process anything right now). And he sits, staring at nothing because his eyes aren’t focusing and there’s water running down his cheeks and he touches his face and it’s sticky and he’s looking at his hands and it's red. It’s blood. It’s Eddie’s blood. Eddie’s blood on his face, Eddie’s shot, Eddie’s dying. Eddie’s leaving him. 
And Christopher is in front of him and he’s crying too and he’s looking at Buck like it’s all his fault. It’s all his fault. “It should have been you,” Chris sobs. 
And Buck agrees, why wasn’t it him?
He clenches his eyes shut a few times, trying to bring himself back to reality. He knows it’s just the substances messing with his brain. Eddie’s safe. It’s been months. He’s sitting on his kitchen floor, not the road. It’s just tears, not blood. It’s just tears, not blood. 
Buck wants to be okay. Despite everything. He really wants to be okay. It’s been months and he wants to be okay. He wants to be enough. He wants to be there for the people who need him so maybe they won’t leave.
But now he sits on his kitchen floor, shards of glass scattered in front of him, and he’s starting to think that maybe that’s just not in the cards for him.
He’s just Buck.
Too Buck.
And when was that ever enough to make anyone stay?
I know it's only 11am on Sunday for me which means it's probably not Sunday for most of you but you can take this as your Saturday or Sunday tag, up to you – Tagging the moots: @disasterbuckdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @jeeyuns @wildlife4life @honestlydarkprincess @eddiebabygirldiaz @spagheddiediaz @jesuisici33 @your-catfish-friend @ladydorian05 @giddyupbuck @eowon @elvensorceress @watchyourbuck @steadfastsaturnsrings @housewifebuck @thewolvesof1998 @king-buckley @rainbow-nerdss @cal-daisies-and-briars @malewifediaz  @evanbegins @jamespearce9-1-1 @wikiangela @bucksbirthmark  @callmenewbie @underwater-ninja-13 @daffi-990 @fionaswhvre @aspecbuddie @lover-of-mine @nmcggg (let me know if you'd like to be added or removed)
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thecuriousquest · 6 months
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“If you ever try to attack me again, I will beat you within an inch of your life, wait for you to heal, and then do it all over again. Do you understand me, Wife?”
-Levi
SCREAMING!! THIS WAS SOOO GOOD!!
Please, a scenario within the same AU where she *does* try to attack him again. You can add NSFW if you see it fit.
The Captain and the Duchess Part Three
Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @chickennugnugnug
Warnings: Yandere themes, really heavy domestic abuse, belt beating, injured reader, hair pulling, slapping, a tad bit of manipulation, fear inducing husband
Checkout my Master List here.
Part One, Part Two
***Note: This will be the last fic I write for The Captain and the Duchess. I’m sorry if this inconveniences anyone, but I’m kind of getting tired of writing for it. Thank you for all of your patience, and I love you all.
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Something unkind was beginning to settle under your skin as the days with your husband pass by at a slow rate. Everything just seems so dull to you now. Even if the sun is shining like a beacon in the sky, it’s as if a cloud is concealing it.
The smallest things frustrate you, Levi’s voice being one of them. Whenever he speaks to you, you find yourself gripping onto something to keep your hands preoccupied. Who knows what you would do if your finger nails weren’t bloodied from having gripped the table too harshly?
“Wife, are you listening to me? Hey, earth to brat.” He begins snapping in front of your face.
You huff and glare at him as your jaw is set firmly. “What is it, Husband?”
Oh, he doesn’t like that sharp tone at all, and you can see this reflect in his eyes.
“I’m not going to comment on that bitchy tone. I wanted to know if you need anything while I’m out. I expect you to stay here while I’m gone. Is that understood?”
Bitchy tone. Expected to stay here. Understand?
You can’t take it anymore.
It’s as if the color of blood has glazed over your eyes because scarlet hues are all you see. You can’t control your fists as they swing unpredictably.
However, what could you do to harm humanity’s greatest soldier? Nothing.
In your blind fit of rage, you forgot that you were trying to punch Captain Ackerman of the Survey Corps, a captain who goes on deadly missions to take back the wall and fight Titans.
He sidesteps you and sticks his foot out in front of you. Taking a tumble, you fall gracelessly on your hands and knees. As if claiming something conquered, he rests his foot on your back while looking down at you, forcing your body further into the ground.
“You fucking brat. Didn’t you learn your lesson from last time. Do you remember what I said?”
You writhe under the weight of his boot. Animalistic grunts depart from your mouth as you pant heavily, trying to get out from underneath him.
You gasp when the toe of his boot connects with your ribs. You clutch them tightly. Your vision turns clear now, tears gathering in your eyes and running past your cheeks. You sob quite harshly at the feeling of another kick right in the same spot, and you swear your ribs are broken now.
Hands clutch your hair, forcing you up on your knees.
“What did I tell you the night of our wedding? What did I say?”
Not responding leads to Levi slapping the daylights out of you while keeping a firm grip on your locks.
Blood trickles from your nose, dripping into your mouth. The taste is metallic, the texture is slick. It’s what you try to focus on rather than enduring rapid slaps and kicks from your soldier of a husband.
You’re drawn back to reality at the sting of another head spinning slap.
“What did I say?!” he repeats even louder now.
“You said…beat me and then…”
He watches you crumble, but he doesn’t allow you the grace of kindness. He yanks on your hair even harder, pushing you up against the wall.
“Speak up, cunt.”
“You s-said you’d beat me w-within an inch of m-my life, w-wait for me to h-heal, and then do it all o-over again. I don’t w-want this. Please, I want y-you to s-stop! H-husbands shouldn’t do this t-to their w-wives!”
“Well, if you wanted it, then it wouldn’t be much of a punishment.”
He draws you towards him before slamming the side of your head into the wall. Everything turns fuzzy in that instant. A strong punch to your stomach leaves you trying to suck in as much oxygen as you can, but you find that no matter how much you attempt to breathe, you feel like you’re going to pass out.
Hits and kicks rattle your body with agonizing torment. You’re uncomfortable, you’re hot, and it feels like torture. A hand clamps around your throat while your husband relentlessly punches your gut.
All you can do is lie there and take it. Pitiful whimpers and violent wails escape your lips. You wince as you feel him stomping on your thigh. You scream in misery when the stomp on your thigh turns into a kick to your chest.
You thought the beating couldn’t get any worse until he decided to take off his belt. You look up at him through swollen eyes, silently pleading for him not to do it.
Levi folds his belt in half, raises it above his head, and brings it down on the thigh he just berated. As his wife, you’ve been subjected to the belt five times already, but this is a whipping unlike anything you’ve endured thus far. It’s excruciating, and instead of keeping the belt focused on your bottom, he strikes anything in front of him. Your body is hit fifty times in succession all over, and you feel every bite of the leather. Your stomach, thighs, and back took the majority of those lashes, but you can still feel the sting on your arms, and calves as well.
Levi drops the belt and kneels next to you, gently shaking you to see if you’re still awake. He doesn’t get a response, so he feels your pulse. It’s slow, but it’s still there. He chuckles slightly. Wrapping you up in his arms, he takes you to the bedroom, dropping you on your side. Levi takes his shoes off before lying in bed next to you, pulling you up to his chest.
“If you had just behaved, none of this would have happened. Stupid little brat.”
He shakes his head, resting his chin on the crown of yours.
———
You wake up to something wet against your face. Your eyes can only open so much with how swollen they are, and you groan at the feeling of aches covering your entire body. Every inch of skin burns, every muscle feeling sore.
You lock eyes with Levi standing over you as he cleans the blood from your face and body.
“What time is it?” Your voice sounds groggy, and you cough with how dry your throat is.
Handing you a glass of water, Levi answers you, “It’s almost eleven.”
Looking out the window, the black sky is lit up with a half crescent moon and stars. You realize that you’ve been asleep for six hours.
Turning back to your husband, you regard him wearily. “What are you doing?”
“I’m cleaning you up. You look like shit.”
“I look like shit because of you.”
He puts the towel down and leans in close to your face, trapping you as he places his hands on either side of your body.
“Who is to blame for your punishment? You attacked me. I made you a promise on the night of our wedding, and I kept it.”
“What you did wasn’t a punishment. Husbands are supposed to love their wives, not abuse them.”
“I do love you, that’s why I punished you. If you had kept your hands to yourself, we wouldn’t have had to go through that little incident downstairs. Don’t worry, brat, I’ll take care of you, and when you heal, we can pick up the second part of your punishment.”
“S-second part?”
“Yes, I promised I would wait for you to heal and then do it all over again.” He picks up the towel and begins cleaning the wounds on your thighs. “Maybe, if you show me how much you appreciate my kindness, I’ll go easy on you.”
Your throat feels parched, even worse than when you first woke up. With weary eyes, you take your body into consideration. Cracked ribs, open wounds in several different areas, and bruising all over your legs and arms.
You don’t even want to know what your face looks like.
You can’t move, let alone get out of bed. Levi knew what he was doing. He knew you wouldn’t be able to run away under these physical conditions. You curse his intelligence as you stifle a whimper from the stinging sore on your leg that he is cleaning.
“Husband?”
He looks at you in silence, waiting to hear what you have to say.
You’ll do anything to have him go easy on you. Maybe, if you can at least feign appreciation, he’ll make your next beating look like love taps in comparison to this.
“I’m so sorry for attacking you. I don’t know what came over me. Thank you for taking the time to look after my wounds.”
“Of course, my lovely wife.”
———
Over the next few months, you’ve gotten to know the softer side of Levi. If he wasn’t so violent with you, you’d think he was a natural born care taker. He shows his love for you through cleaning your wounds and bandaging your ribs. He has even gone as far as using a salve on the belt marks on your back and thighs to heal them faster.
Even though it’s nice that your husband is treating you with care for once, you can’t help but think about how he is the one who put you in this position. What’s even more frightening is what’s to come after you’re done healing.
These thoughts plague you both day and night. You’ve bitten your lip so badly with worry that you ended up bleeding from the little tooth marks more often than not.
Levi scolds you lightly for this new bad habit of yours. He wags his finger in your face, telling you, “your body won’t heal well if you keep adding onto your list of wounds.” He doesn’t punish you for it, however. Instead, he cleans up your swollen lip and bloody chin.
———
You’re only a tad bit sore now as Levi helps you up from the bed. Your body has made a full recovery, and you feel elated now that you can move about again. However, that feeling doesn’t last as Levi looks at you with a satisfied smirk.
“It’s good to see you’re feeling better.”
You rub your wrist and nod. “Yes, Husband, thank you so much for your care. I really do appreciate it.”
He gently caresses your face, giving your cheek a lingering kiss.
“Since you’ve shown me your appreciation, I guess I can go a bit easier on you. This time, we’ll skip the broken bones, so you’ll only get the belt. What do you say?”
You can’t find it in you to beg for his mercy, not that he’d show you any no matter how hard you plead. Instead, you nod and bend over the bed.
“Thank you, Husband.”
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worldlxvlys · 3 months
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this isn’t based on any texts with dwb!chris but i was wondering if u could write a fic abt dwb!chris teaching the reader how to juggle cause she doesn’t know how. maybe make it rly fluffy nd shit, like maybe she cries cause she’s frustrated she can’t do it (i would sob i literally can’t juggle) and chris comforts her and maybe cuddles at the end?
obv it’s ok if not <3 xx
never change
dwb! chris x reader
warnings: none. enjoy <333
dwb! chris masterlist
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i watched as Chris skillfully passed the oranges from one hand to the other, while one was thrown in the air and he caught it without effort. he does it so seamlessly, as though it’s a skill that everyone is born knowing how to do.
“can you show me how?” i asked, a sweet smile forming on my face.
“i can try, i’ve never really had to teach anyone”
he stopped juggling and stood behind me, putting his arms around mine. this man is going to be the death of me.
“relax baby” he whispered into my ear, running his hands along my shoulders.
he helped me position my arms properly, pushing my elbows in.
“let’s just start with two oranges” he said as placed the third one down.
“just focus on passing them back and forth” following his instructions, i threw the round objects back and forth between my two hands.
right, left, catch, catch.
i continued to go through the motions a few more times, waiting for the next step.
“good, keep your elbows tucked in” i moved my elbows in.
“ok, now we can try adding the other in”
“now do the same thing, but before the second orange comes down you add in an extra throw “ i watched as he demonstrated again.
right, left, right, catch.
i watched him do it, but my brain couldn’t process it.
“wait, what? ” i asked, now confused.
he then demonstrated again, but i was still lost.
“here, just try it” he said as handed me the oranges.
i attempted to do exactly as he said, but could never get it right.
“this is so fucking stupid, why is this so complicated” i said, starting to get annoyed.
“hey it’s alright ma, no one gets it on their first try, just give it some time” he said as he rubbed my shoulders.
i tried, and tried but i couldn’t get the rhythm down.
“fuck! this shouldn’t be so god damn hard!” i exclaimed, feeling tears prick at the corner of my eyes.
“baby, it’s ok. we can try again another time” chris said, picking up on how upset i was getting.
“i feel so fucking stupid, this should be simple” i said as i looked up at him, tears starting to fall from my eyes.
“and i don’t know why i’m crying! i’m not upset, i’m pissed!” i said, getting frustrated.
he took the oranges from me and wrapped his arms around me, resting his head on top of mine.
“it’s ok baby, i got you. you’re not stupid, there are plenty of people who can’t even do the first step of juggling and you aced it”
“that’s a damn lie chris, anyone could toss oranges back and forth” i looked up at him, laughing through the tears.
“hmm maybe, but it cheered you up!” he said with a growing smile, wiping my tears away.
“i guess”
“listen, if you never want to juggle again you don’t have to. i doubt anyone will hold you at gunpoint and tell you to juggle for your life” this sent us both into fits of giggles, making us both laugh even harder at the sound of the other’s laughter.
“you probably just jinxed me”
“i don’t think so ma”
we both stopped laughing, staring at each other with wide grins. i gave him a quick peck, making his smile even wider.
“ok forget the juggling, can we just cuddle? ”
“always ma” he said as he led me to the couch. we both flopped down onto it, and he wrapped his arms around me sticking his nose into the crook of my neck.
“you’re perfect, baby. never change.”
•••• •••••••••••••• ••••
hope y’all like <333
i never realized how hard it is to describe juggling, especially when you don’t know how lmaooo
masterlist
tag list: @lovingsturniolo @lustfulslxt @gwenlore @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @chrissturnioloswifey @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @chrisdevora @cupidsword @nickmillersn1gf @stramboli4life @mattsneezing @vib3swithanuk @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn
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worldsfromhoney · 6 months
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Greetings, plebeians
This is your resident unknown and attention-depraved author/writer, BEE/bee/beE/🐝
Here’s some stuff about moi:
I like… tea. YES I LIKE TEA 🍵🍵🍵 it’s quite honestly the greatest invention of all time
I also like reading. That’s kinda like a hobby that all writers are mandated to say. Which is reasonable.
I’m a fan of miniatures and piano. Yeah, I did try them out. Yeah, I did fail spectacularly, thank you! ☺️
I also like painting but the therapy one and not just a blank canvas that sucks the soul out of artists lol
What do I write?
I write… stuff. BEAUTIFUL, HEARTBREAKING STUFF, mind you. But it’s still stuff, so lemme elaborate.
Speculative fiction - if you idk this, it’s really just a mix of fantasy and sci-fi; the ‘what if’ genre
Urban fantasy - don’t get me wrong, I love high fantasy, but urban is waaay easier to worldbuild
Steampunk & other punks - PUUUUNK 🤘🤘🤘
Horror and thriller - mostly psychological and body horror, don’t worry! I don’t do jump scares or anything ☺️
Slice of life - mwah my heart and soul mwah
Others - yes, I am capable of doing other genres 😤 I’m a multi-faceted bee, you know?
DISCLAIMER: what I write might only reflect upon my psyche and state of mind but that is not a guarantee
My WiPs
I am proud to say that… I DO NOT HAVE ANY!!
*gasp* what ever do you mean bee? Are you quitting writing? *sobs*
No, my darlings.
i just have no big projects to boast about right now. I feel like big projects aint my thing at the moment and pushing myself only led me to disappear from the internet for a month 😞
What i do have are short works i randomly choose to write and post here on tumblr !!
✨ FICLET MASTERLIST IS HERE ✨
🐝 POETRY MASTERLIST IS HERE TOO 🐝
If you’re interested, please comment on this post or reblog or DM me if you want to be put in the taglist!!
Does that mean you accept… requests?
…………yes. Yes i do. Go and flood my askbox you plebs !
Am I anywhere else?
Please. It’s 2023. Of course I’m… everywhere *cue evil laugh*
Bluesky - if you haven’t heard it yet, tis the new Twitter… cuz it’s literally made by the old creators of that glorious blue bird *cue a moment of silence*
Tiktok or Twitter - do not look for me here
Tumblr - EYYYYYYYYYYY i post ALL my stuff here !! They’re really just bait to hook some writer friends 🥹
Ko-Fi - ehem ehem i know first drafts are considered shite but BUT i have decided to make them available for perusal yes you can burn your eyes to anyone who buys me a cup of tea ~
Patreon - i finally have one!! I’m still setting it up tho and prepping all the content 💛💛💛
I’ll be doing a patreon soon enough actually so look out for that
How I organise myself
Well i wish this is applicable to actual life because i’d very much like to know how 🫡
Jk, here be the tags:
#bee writes some stuff - my micros, my flash fics, my text posts
#bee plays some games - tag games !! which i have never played before till now !!
#bee does some prompts - this will definitely see the light of day… someday
#bee stalking some writers - what it says on the tin
#bee answers some asks - omg i only added this because someone actually sent me one *faints*
#bee saves some stuff - there are way too many resource posts that i’ve scrolled past cuz idk how to tag
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the-likesofus · 1 year
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Buddie Fic Recs
This is the three round of recs and again these are all so so good so please read them all if you haven't and send the authors some love xx
REMINDER TO CHECK THE TAGS AND TRIGGER WARNINGS
A hotel room in Portland (the place is not important) by justhockey | Not Rated | 8k words
Buck and Eddie travel to Portland for a wedding. I love a bottle scenario and this one is so good and also has the only one bed trope so obviously, that's even better. This fic is so wonderful <3
Presumed Dead by @inkinmyheartandonthepage | G | 4k words
Oh, this fic is just the perfect little package! Buck goes on a hike and when he stops at a gas station on his way home someone steals his jeep leaving him stranded with no way to contact anyone, in the meantime the dude whole stole the jeep crashes and when the 118 arrives on the scene the body is too burnt to ID and they assume that it’s Buck. Delicious! 
sometime after midnight by @gayhoediaz | G | 2.5k words
Buck and Eddie finally talk about the *Couch* of it all while I am sobbing in the corner…enough said. Honestly, though this fic is so wonderful and the whole thing takes place over a phonecall too, which is just *chefs kiss*.
My Type On Paper by earthstar (startrex) | T | 7.9k words
BUCK GOES ON LOVE ISLAND AND EDDIE COPES…….sorta. This fic is maximum pining, maximum adorable, hilarious, buck being a genuinely lovely human being and me just trying to survive. Highly, highly recommend reading this if you haven't!
Color Him Father, Color Him Love by @elvensorceress | G | 3k words
Once again Jenwyn left me breathless and sobbing with this incredible fic. Basically, Connor and Cameron have the baby and when Buck meets the baby the moment is not anything like he thought it would be and he has a whole realisation about what he is to Christopher and to Eddie and it is emotional and heartfelt and I’m gonna cry again just thinking about it!
still by @gayhoediaz | T | 9k words
The suspense of this one kills me! Once again Nie has done an incredible job of pulling on all your heartstrings as Eddie STANDS ON A BOMB and pretty much waits for it to either be defused or for it to blow him up. 
open up my eyes (tell me i'm alive) by @rogerzsteven | G | 5k words
This right here is PEAK nightmare hurt/comfort and i beg of you please please read it. Simi’s writing destroys me every time but this fic in particular has that bit of pizzazz that just makes me arghhhhhh. Buck is having trouble sleeping post-coma and Eddie offers to stay with him so that he can tell that he’s in the real world and not his coma dream and my god it's so good. Also special Dad appearance by Bobby!
Like the ebbing of the tide by @starlingbite | G | 5k words
This is an incredible fic that deals with Buck’s emotions around the tsunami on the five-year anniversary of the event and wow damn. Also, there is an incredible embedded edit by @skyhighrollins911!
When I watch the world burn, all I think about is you by theleftboobgrabber | E | 34k words
I am an absolute sucker for a Pacific Rim AU and come on we can all agree that Buck and Eddie are the most drift-compatible mofos to ever walk the earth. This fic is so so good (a good bit spicy too) and i just adore it!
rest your weary head by @eddiediazes | T | 2k words
I am also a sucker for physical touch and comfort and this beautiful little fic delivers everything I could ever hope for. It’s a post 6x12 missing scene and Eddie comforts Buck in the kitchen and then asks if he wants to stay the night (well more like tells Buck he has to stay and he has no choice) and it's just all kinds of fluffy perfections.
If you do read any of these, please show the authors some love. Leave kudos, comments, stalk their tumblrs etc. Wishing you all a wonderful rest of your week!
Love, Meegs xxxx
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ladytauria · 5 months
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Would you consider writing 13 and/or 18 from the prompt list for jaytim?
i would!! <3
i wrote them both bc i thought they worked very well together, though. i did change the wording of the second prompt to make it fit. (it is still bolded tho.)
i went through… 3 or 4 different concepts for this fic before i finally settled on reverse robins, bc i have been thinking about another reverse robins au (i blame @bi-bats). this is not that au, but instead a different one which ran away with me as soon as i got into the flow of writing it <3
there is also a part in it that is inspired by something @deepwithintheabyss said in a chat once. (which i’ll clarify in the tags & end notes on ao3 lol).
ANYWAY. this is more in the gen/pre-slash vein as it technically covers tim & jason’s first time actually meeting / speaking to each other, &. as it ran away with me the way it did, probably kind of messy? ^^; but i hope you like it, nonny, & thank you very much for the prompt!
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It isn’t very often that Tim comes across Robin. Both Batman and Nightwing do their best to keep them separate and—so far at least—the little Robin hasn’t made an attempt to circumvent their efforts. Except tonight, though he has a feeling that the little bird didn’t necessarily mean for their paths to cross.
He’s sitting in an alley; canary yellow cape wrapped around his body. Tim drops, silent, from the roof, landing six feet from him. This close, he can see the tremors wracking his frame.
“Robin,” he says.
Robin flinches, hard; nearly smacking his head back against the brick. Guilt rises in Tim’s throat. There are shiny tears trailing down his cheeks, though the white-outs of his domino are still down. Tim feels the moment Jason’s eyes lock on him.
He immediately shifts into a non-threatening stance. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, holding up his hands, fingers spread wide.
“Hood?” Robin’s voice wobbles.
“Yeah, it’s me,” he says; crouching down to Robin’s level. “Are you alright?” There’s a mild strain of fear toxin being sold right now. Tim’s been working on tracking down the source, but so far, all of his leads have led him to dead ends. Could Robin have been hit with a dose? That would explain his upset—maybe the lack of Batman, too.
Robin shivers. He draws his cape tighter around him. He shakes his head—though whether in answer or not Tim couldn’t say. He buries his face in his knees again, muffling a soft sob.
Tim’s chest twists. “Do you want me to call—”
Robin’s head jerks up again. “No!” he says, immediately, the desperation in his voice nearly knocking Tim back. “Please, please don’t—”
“Okay,” Tim says, gentling his voice. He doubts it does much with the voice modulator in the way. “Okay, I won’t call anyone.” He bites his lip. He can’t leave him here. Whatever’s happened, whether it’s fear toxin or not, it’s affected him deeply. “Do you feel safe enough to come with me?” He offers his hand.
Robin stares at it, biting his lip. Then he nods, taking Tim’s hand. His grip is tight—almost too much so.
They rise to their feet together.
“I’ll call my bike,” Tim says, still in that gentle tone. “Do you think you can hold on?” The hand not holding Tim’s is still clutching his cape, holding it around himself. He’s still shivering. Even the fingers in Tim’s hand are trembling.
Robin nods. “Y-yeah.”
He gives his hand a squeeze. He hopes it’s reassuring. Then he pulls out his keys and presses the button that will summon his bike to them. It takes less than ten minutes for it to roll up to the mouth of the alley. Robin finally lets go of his hand when he goes to climb on the bike. As soon as Tim is settled, he climbs on behind him; his arms snug around Tim’s waist, his front plastered against Tim’s back.
Tim drives. Not to his Nest, but to one of the well-equipped safehouses he has on this end of the Narrows. As soon as they’re off the bike, Robin drifts close to him again; so close their arms are almost brushing. He walks them around to the alley. He offers an arm to Robin automatically, and though Robin’s own grappling hook—and the spare—sits on his hip, he steps into Tim’s arm, against his chest.
Tim is not a tall man. Despite that, and the fact that there are only three years between them, Robin barely comes up to his shoulder. Tim secures his grip on him, holding him close, and grapples up the fire escape.
When they land, Robin doesn’t move; staying pressed against Tim’s side, his forehead pressed to his shoulder. Tim doesn’t make him move. It’s easy enough to wrap both arms around him, let him stand within the circle of them as he disengages the security on the window.
Then he nudges him. “C’mon, Robin. Let’s get inside.”
A beat passes before Robin moves. Tim follows right behind him, re-engaging his security after he shuts the window. He pulls off his helmet with a soft, mechanical hiss, letting it dangle from his fingers. Robin has pulled his cape around him again. He stands, something almost unsure in the stance of his body.
“C’mon,” Tim says, laying a gentle hand on Robin’s back. He leans into it, but doesn’t resist when he walks them forward, until they reach the couch. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get us something to drink.” Something warm, preferably, but even just water or a sports drink would suffice.
Then he’ll get to the bottom of whatever’s going on here.
He finds some tea; one of the few herbal blends he keeps. He brews two cups. While he waits, he takes off his domino, gloves, and the most prominent of his weapons. Then he takes the cups to the living room. Like Tim, Robin has removed his gloves and domino, alongside his boots and gloves, leaving Jason Wayne sitting on his couch. His cape is wrapped around him again, and he’s tucked all of his limbs into it, curling into a ball so small he takes up only one of the couch cushions.
Tim’s chest pangs.
“Here,” he says, offering Jason the cup.
Jason takes it, both hands curling around it and pulling it to his chest. His eyes are rimmed with red.
Tim hesitates a moment—and then sits right next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Jason melts into his side.
“Sorry,” he says softly.
“For what?” Tim asks, stroking Jason’s bicep with his thumb.
“Being difficult. I didn’t— I know you’d rather have called someone. I. I promise I won’t stay for long.”
Tim turns his head, tucking his nose into Jason’s curls. It’s not the most pleasant of smells—he smells like sweat, like Gotham night air. Under that, there’s a hint of soap. “You’re not being difficult, Jason,” he says gently, carefully. “And you can stay for as long as you need.”
Jason exhales slowly. “Thanks,” he says.
He doesn’t sound convinced. Tim tightens his arm. “I mean it. It’s not… I don’t mind having you here.” He doesn’t. He may not be on the best terms with the bats, but that animosity, that strain, doesn’t extend to Jason. He may not be happy that some other kid took on the cape he died in, but he could acknowledge that Bruce and Damian had learned from their mistakes. Jason patrolled far less than Tim ever had, and almost never on his own. He was kept away from the worst of the rogues, too. Most of his life was focused on the non-cape side of things; school and hobbies and friends, and, recently, working with the Martha Wayne Foundation.
Tim would have despised it.
Jason thrives.
And Tim admires what he’s accomplished. He’s a good Robin. A good person. The only reason he’s never reached out—
Well. Bruce and Damian barely tolerate his presence, reaching out only when there’s no other choice. Cass— He’s not sure she’ll ever forgive him for choosing this path. His relationships with Steph and Alfred may be fine, but the other three could easily make things difficult, and— Honestly. He has no idea what Jason has been told about him.
The way he’s curled against him suggests it may not be all bad.
There’s also his philosophy on vigilantism. He’s chosen a different path than the others; a path with far more blood and violence. It’s no secret that Jason has fought with Bruce about methodology before, and Tim— As tempting as it is, sometimes, to steal Batman’s partner right out from under him… Tim won’t make that worse. Spending time with him could very well fan those flames higher.
He’s not going to explain all of that right now. Or maybe ever. Instead he says, “My problems with Damian and Bruce have nothing to do with you. They would probably rather you avoid me—and that’s fine—but… you’re not unwelcome in my territory, or my safehouses,” he says. “If you need a place to go, back-up—you can call me.” He pauses. “And that goes for civilian life too. You need me, you call. I’ll answer.”
Jason twists. He presses his face against Tim’s shoulder. It can’t be comfortable—he’s still wearing his armor, a sturdy kevlar-weave. “Thanks,” he says, and his voice is watery again.
Tim moves his hand to cup the back of his head. He kisses Jason’s crown.
They stay like that until Jason pulls away.
By now the tea has cooled. When his cup is about half gone, he asks, “Do you want to talk about what happened tonight?”
Jason bites his lip and shrugs. “I dunno. A lot,” he says, quietly. “Bruce an’ I are fighting again. About my mom.”
Tim hums. Steph has complained to him about Sheila Haywood more than once. He’s never met the woman himself, but from everything he’s heard—and looked into—he’s… not impressed, to put it mildly. “Sounds stressful,” he says.
“Yeah. He thinks— He says she’s taking advantage.” Jason sounds disgusted. “But— He doesn’t get it. She’s had a hard life. The system fucked her over, and she didn’t have the money to fight it. She just needs a little help, that’s all, and—” He cuts himself off. “I just wanna help her. Like I couldn’t help my other mom, the one that raised me. An’ it’s just— Every time I bring her up now, Bruce gets this pinched look on his face. Damian’s no help. Steph’s no help. Even Cass isn’t any help! I just— It sucks. An’ we fought about it again today.
“So I— Tonight, I told him I wanted to patrol on my own. Clear my head. ‘Cause he said I could now. An’ it was fine, it went fine, until. There was this robbery, an’ I guess— I guess they had that new fear toxin— an’... I just…
“What if he gets tired of fighting? What if— What if he— What if he decides that he doesn’t— My mom can’t. She can’t afford a kid right now, an’ I— Damian— He’s in this too, and Steph, an’—” He’s working himself up now, voice cracked and wavering, little hitching sobs threatening to burst with every word.
Tim puts his mug down—takes Jason’s, too. Jason lets it go without a fight. Then he pulls him into a hug; tight and all-encompassing, like he can shield him from all the hurt he’s feeling. “Bruce will never kick you out,” he says, voice quiet and sure. “He gave you his name, he signed the papers. You're his now, permanently. He’s not going to go back on that. It’s the same with Damian. You’re family to him now, and Damian— If he’s nothing else, he’s loyal to his bones. Steph adores you. Cass does too. Fighting— It’s not going to change that.” He pauses. “But if I’m wrong. If they kick you out, or— If you just can’t stay there anymore—
“You have a place with me.”
Jason sobs, then.
Tim holds him.
He’ll keep holding him—as long as he needs.
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hoodie-buck · 3 months
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✨ Fic Writing Review 2023 ✨
Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please don’t eat glass but don’t feel like you have to do this either.
thanks for the tags beloveds @wikiangela @monsterrae1 @hippolotamus @honestlydarkprincess @thewolvesof1998 @steadfastsaturnsrings @spotsandsocks @daffi-990 @buddierights (sorry if i forgot anyone, i was waiting to do this till i was finished with writing this year!)
Words and fics
Words: 365,415
More recent drop: drawstrings
Longest fic: if i lay here, would you lie with me (forget the world) at 90.4k words
Top fics by kudos:
if i lay here, would you lie with me (forget the world) (my baby has over 2k kudos now, brb sobbing 😭)
caught up in a blue haze
the ducking of evan buckley
he hits my heart like a homerun
in your shirt, half asleep (wishing i still had you)
My fandom fics events in 2023:
i did heart beats so loud that it's drowning me out for @ronordmann reverse prompt challenge. and i started a bthb card if that counts!
Upcoming events and projects for 2024:
i tried to stay away from events this year, so i'll probably do the same next year. i think i do better when i can write more freely and do things at my own pace! i only have one wip i'm taking into the new year, which i'm gonna try and finish before starting anything new 🤞🏼 other than that i'm gonna be diving into more thiam so expect a mix of both this next year 🩵
tagging (idk who’s done this so sorry if you’ve already been tagged!) @loserdiaz @redlightsandicedtea @honestlydarkprincess @onward--upward @justsmilestuffhappens @barbiediaz @eddiebabygirldiaz @elvensorceress @jacksadventuresinwriting @wh0re-behavi0r @spaceprincessem @disasterbuckdiaz @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck
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fic rec friday 13
welcome the the tenth fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.
1. i was always yours (even before you knew it) by paladarns
Lance thought Keith was just an asshole. Lance has always thought of Keith as an asshole, all throughout traveling into space in a large mechanical lion, all throughout bonding moments. All throughout becoming closer as teammates and friends.
Even now, with his hands pinned above his head and Keith’s thighs straddling his waist, Lance thinks Keith is an asshole.
Lance had always thought he could see right through people, but now he’s starting to think he has a bad judgement of people.
---------- a fic in which keith is obvious and lance is a bit of a gay nervous wreck
takes place as if season 1 is the only season to exist but its now years later
so many things to love about this fic. so so many. so i am going to list them. a) secret relationship bc i love that shit and eat it up every time, b) ‘takes place as if season 1 is the only season to exist but its now years later’ -- paladarns my love thank you for this truly excellent description of where i write my fics like 80% of the time. c) keith has game, and d)  HE WAS ALWAYS KEITHS EVEN BEFORE HE KNEW IT IM SOBBING BEST TROPE BEST TROPE
2. Wake Up, Sleephyhead! by @transbakugou
Keith has never loved someone like he loves Lance. Lance is his sun, his stars, his happiness. Their hands fit together like they were created to do nothing but hold each other, and he fits perfectly inside of Lance's arms. But he can never let anyone find out how much he loves this boy, how wholly and endlessly. Who knows what the Galra would do with that kind of information?
One morning, the lie comes crashing down around them.
Maybe it won't be as bad as they feared.
i love gay whipped klance and truly every single fic that has ever been written based on a vine is truly amazing, this fic is no exception. also secret relationship lol i am a sucker
3. Something Secret by @kingswriting
It was funny at first. Their arguments became more banter than actual disagreements, yet the entire team continued to assume they were at each other’s throats.
And Lance knows they’re not. He is fully aware that every sharp word, every sly smirk, every heavy handed push, and everything in between is anything but malicious.
But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t miss the softer side of things.
Or, Lance and Keith are in a secret relationship, but honestly want to omit the 'secret' part.
okay u can always tell what tag im following obsessively at certain times lol. for yall i present yet another secret relationship fic. ahem. this one is cute! banter and flirting and misleading and kisses and GOD its so sweet
4. Things Held Sacred by yarrie
So maybe, just maybe, Pidge was right. Maybe, just maybe, Keith had shot himself in the foot with his first attempt at resolving the blanket-hogging situation, because now Lance seemed to think it was a game and the rules were: steal the blankets, get sex.
To be fair, Keith hadn't exactly been...dissuading him very well.
okay so heres how this works. every fic rec friday so far has been from a specific collection of mine called ‘rereadables’, which was literally started because of this fic. i dont even know what specific part of this fic gets to me so hard, but you know when you read something that makes your stomach go all swoopy? and you can’t stop smiling? thats this fic! i remember i finished it for the first time and then i scrolled right back up to the top and read it again, then again, and again. like i cannot get over this fic. it gives me butterflies every time
5. Communication is key, they say by @ellana17
They already had communication issues before… Or: a malfunction with a healing pod leaves Lance able to speak only Spanish for a few days.
the idea of lance getting stuck in spanish and then almost immediately using that to flirt with keith without him knowing. like. i love that SO much that is quite possibly one of the funniest concepts to exist
that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!
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kiwiana-writes · 4 days
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Six(ish) Sentence Sunday
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Damn, y'all started early today: thanks @getmehighonmagic @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @onthewaytosomewhere @magicandarchery for the tags!
First of all, thank you so much for all the wonderful birthday wishes/treats/etc—y'all are fucking wonderful and I treasure you ❤️
Here's a little snippet from the prologue of one of my Fandom Trumps Hate offerings, which I am VERY excited about. (I'm excited about all of them honestly; there are no duds in that list of prompts. But this one's... particularly personal, haha.) All it has right now is a prologue in past tense (challenge!) and in Ellen's POV (massive challenge!) before we smash cut to Alex's POV in the canon-adjacent timeline, not because it was a requirement of the fic/prompt or anything but because that's where the ✨ vision ✨ took me 🤣 It also has a tentative title, though that's subject to change... we'll see.
Ellen listened when the long, heavy tresses—the dark colour all Diaz, the weight and texture entirely Claremont—were eschewed in favour of a wild, cropped head of curls. She bought shorts and overalls when CJ’s hand-me-down skirts and dresses were met with a frown and a fierce shake of the head. And when her confident, fiercely intelligent, beautiful youngest child crawled into her lap at five years old, wrapped surprisingly strong arms around her neck, and asked quietly if she thought it was possible that God sometimes made mistakes and gave kids the wrong parts, Ellen swallowed back the lump in her throat and marvelled at the depths of bravery she knew it must have taken to ask the question. She made it through the usual bedtime routine by sheer force of will—a yes, sugar, sometimes that happens, and it’s okay if you think it happened to you and a kiss to the forehead apparently enough in that moment—only breaking down in Oscar’s arms long after both kids were asleep. It wasn’t grief or confusion that had her sobbing; she’d move mountains to make her children happy, whoever they were, whatever they needed. It was sheer frustration, seeing so many potential sources of harm and heartbreak laid out on the path ahead, traps waiting to spring, and knowing she would be unable to clear many of them out of the way.
Tagging @affectionatelyrs @agame-writes @anincompletelist @celeritas2997 @cha-melodius @clottedcreamfudge @cricketnationrise @dumbpeachjuice @everwitch-magiks @firenati0n @happiness-of-the-pursuit @heysweetheart-writes @indestructibleheart @indomitable-love @inexplicablymine @jellibuns @junebugclaremontdiaz @leaves-of-laurelin @littlemisskittentoes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @matherines @myheartalivewrites @ninzied @nocoastposts @nontoxic-writes @notspecialbabe @orchidscript @piratefalls @read-and-write- @rmd-writes @sherryvalli @ships-to-sail @smc-27 @sparklepocalypse @stereopticons @three-drink-amy @tintagel-or-cockleshells @welcometololaland @whimsymanaged and, as always, anyone who wants to play! (If you take the open tag please tag me so I can see!!)
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shintin · 7 months
Text
Glory-Hole
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↳ Vash the Stampede x Female Reader
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One-shot (A cut from Gunpowder Dreams fic)
Summary: Trapped in a mafia's clutches, you embark on a daring escape from the relentless grip of Vash, the enigmatic boss. However, freedom comes at a price as you face the unforgiving consequences of your defiance. In this thrilling tale of survival, navigate a treacherous world where alliances shift, and shadows hold secrets. Can you outwit the formidable Vash and break free, or will you succumb to the merciless retribution that awaits?
(For more details, read the original story linked above.)
Word count: +6 k.
Genre: explicit smut (Mafia au).
Warnings/Tags: +18, NSFW, Alternative Universe/Modern Setting, no spoilers from manga and anime, dominate Vash the Stampede, dub-con, toxicity, gunplay, manhandling, unprotected sex, biting, etc.
Notes: I just wanted to write gunplay smut.
Disclaimer: The gunplay scene is inspired by the books I've read.
Song Recommendation: Nancy Sinatra - Bang Bang
You can read my fics on AO3 and Wattpad. If you have any questions, don’t be shy and ASK. This is my DISCORD account, in case you want to contact me.
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As you sat motionless, a realization gripped you: escape from this house was an unattainable feat. He was smart, but the scariest part was your inability to anticipate a single one of his thoughts. You felt like a dumb rabbit while he, as cunning as a fox, remained one step ahead.
"You're not touching me," you hissed, your voice wobbly and rife with unshed tears.
"What you gonna do if I do?" He directed his gaze toward the ceiling and the pipes. "I'm glad it's the dead of night, and this room is almost soundproof. So, you won't disturb anyone's peaceful slumber."
Driven by instinct, fear propelled you to your feet as you hurriedly made your way to the door, frantically grasping the handle and repeatedly tugging it up and down.
Open!
Please, open!
As you wrestled with the doorknob, attempting to force it open, a sturdy steel arm suddenly encircled your waist and lifted you off the ground.
"NO!" A piercing scream erupted from your lips as you kicked futilely at the space, fiercely resisting his grip.
"Oh, yes, love," he growled, swinging your body towards the wall.
You grunted from the impact, leaning your back against the wall; this time, you used it as leverage to kick against the bastard of a man. "Let me go, you fucking creepy-ass fuck—"
"Keep talking, and you'll just make it worse."
You screeched, out of breath and growing weaker, as he pinned your flailing body against the wall, rendering you powerless.
"We had a deal, didn't we?" Vash asked in a panting tone.
A tear spilt over your lid. And then another and another until you were on the verge of sobbing again. "We had, but—"
"Don't cry, love," he cooed. "It's going to get so much worse."
His breath skated over your cheek as he pressed himself further into your body, just like in the previous encounter. Towering over you, his larger frame enveloped you completely until all you could see, feel, and smell was him—his warmth, the distinctive scent that was uniquely his, and the way his black-clad body surrounded you.
"I like you scared," he whispered, sending shivers down your core. "I like you begging and pleading. Crying out for imaginary Gods to save you."
You felt the touch of leather on your face, and you flinched away. His fingers delicately traced a path from your cheekbone to your hair, gently tucking stray strands behind your ear. "I like you trembling beneath my touch, uncontrollably."
"You're sick," you snapped, doing just that. You were shaking from head to toe, and you couldn't seem to stop it.
“You think your pleas will only arise when your life is at stake, but you are mistaken," he grunted, letting out a deep, mocking laugh. "In due time, you will beg for my touch, craving it desperately."
"That'll never happen," you hissed, glaring at him with all your might. Or at least you thought you were. The dim light emanating from the ceiling lights shadowed his eyes. It felt almost like being far-sighted. Your face was so close to something, but clarity evaded you. The shadows were a part of him. He carried them around.
"It's time to punish you, and I've thought of the many ways I could do this," he said, ignoring your jab. It only infuriated you more that he found your lack of consent so inconsequential. So… worthless. "I'll be nice this time." You opened your mouth, but he cut you off with a deep growl of warning, "But only if you reciprocate, love."
Your teeth audibly snapped together, the sound punctuating the air and drawing yet another amused grunt from him. Your pride took a hit, and you wanted to knee him in the balls for it, but you couldn't lift your leg an inch as you tried.
"You freak! What are you going to do?" you spat out, the stutter of your words in sync with the beat of your heart. His searing breath brushed against your cheek as you felt the gentle glide of his lips tracing along your jawline. You swallowed but nearly choked from how dry your throat had become. Those lips descend to the column of your neck, skittering along until he paused on the spot right below your ear.
"I'm gonna play with my toy," he declared right before his teeth clamped down. Your back arched involuntarily, repulsion and pleasure marrying in your nerves, sending misfires to your brain. All coherent thoughts escaped from your mind, leaving behind only primal instincts to guide your actions.
But, somehow, as if he was electrocuted, he distanced himself. His gaze shifted downwards towards the collar of his shirt. The cross was there, concealed on his chest. His eyes changed momentarily, remorseful, maybe disgusted by what he had become. As if he was lost, struggling to find himself, but instead, his eyes found you—the one with the answers.
You wished you could show him hatred, but seeing your pleasure, he groaned, his teeth piercing as his tongue lapped at your flesh. Your mouth opened, and a silent scream suctioned away just as his mouth did the same, drawing in deep like he was drinking the essence from your body. And then, with a lingering sensation of pain, he withdrew, his teeth grazing your skin as he released his hold, leaving behind a stinging reminder.
Your hands pressed into his chest for stability or to push him away. You were not sure. Though your question was quickly answered when instinct coerced your hands to curl, gripping his shirt tight and anchoring yourself to him as if he was your lifeline. When in reality, he was the one killing you.
Severe shivers wracked your body when he licked a wet path with his tongue, descending from your neck towards the juncture where your nipples resided. He paused, and it felt as if your body teetered precariously over a sharpened blade. You held your breath, the anticipation rattling your bones. And then he was biting down again, pulling an animalistic sound from your chest. He did this, over and over, leaving behind a trail of bruises that marked his territory along your neck and across your shoulder.
You were breathless by the time he pulled away. "Good girl," he finally exhaled, his own voice airy. Somehow, that made you feel worse. You wanted him to hate it as much as you should've. "You like this, don't you?"
"I…ah," you panted, trying hard to conceal the depths of your desires because you were revealing more and more as he went further. You were fucking seconds away from reaching out and grabbing his cock through his pants and begging him to fuck you since you hadn't been touched by a human for a long time, let alone a man, and this thing in front of you had the power to make you momentarily forget everything, despite being the very reason for your need to escape reality. Then something occurred to your mind.
You couldn't explain why you did what you did next. You would ask Gods later. But at that moment, you were so overcome with a tsunami of emotions that you reached up and bit his tattooed neck. Hard, and you didn't care, just bit harder. Maybe you wanted to hurt him back, give him a taste of his own medicine, make him feel whatever you felt.
Regardless of the reason, he didn't take kindly to it. His hand wrapped around your throat, exerting pressure as he forcefully pushed you back, simultaneously tearing himself away from your body. He was squeezing tightly, but you couldn't care less. You felt justified. If he killed you here and now, at least you could say you left one last mark on him.
He growled low, a sound of frustration and an unnamed emotion that eluded definition. "I'm beginning to think you like to be punished, which means I'm just going to have to do better."
Before you could react, he hoisted you up, effortlessly tossing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
"Fucker!" you snapped, your fists pounding against his back as you thrashed your exposed legs. You were not a potato.
A sharp smack to your ass was his only response. "Love, the wind can do more harm than what you're doing."
"Want to see my teeth again, asshole? I'll sure to grab your ugly face this time."
"Keep telling yourself that, but deep down, we both know this face is making you wet," he retorted, amusement coloring his words. Snarling, you resented his fucking unruffled calm. And because he was not entirely wrong. No, dumbass, he was wrong. He must be wrong.
More curses flooded out of your mouth, but they were cut short when he dragged your body down his front until your legs were wrapped around his waist, and he was cradling you to his chest. Oh, fuck this. You lifted your hands to scratch his face, maybe do a little eye-gouging, but instead, you just squealed. He swooped you backward, your stomach bottoming out as he set you on the bed, flat on your back. Your robe came undone, leaving you inadequately covered when he hovered over you, his arms positioned on either side of your head as he braced himself over you. You swallowed, tears pricking your eyes. "What a gentleman! Letting me look at your obnoxious face as you murder me," you mouthed off, forcing the words through your tightened throat.
You really needed to shut the fuck up. But you couldn't seem to stop yourself. Apparently, when you were in a life-threatening situation, all you could manage to do was make it worse. While some might perceive it as fearlessness, you could only assume it as an act of sheer stupidity.
Balancing himself with one hand, he reached behind him with the other. As you prepared to unleash more insults from your mouth, his arm emerged, revealing a tightly gripped gun.
Another audible tick of your teeth later, you were back to being choked silent with fear.
"I told you not to run away. I told you to follow the orders," he stated, his tone bled dry of emotion. "Typically, I would choose to crack open your skull and forcibly implant the words in your brain, but it seems you require a different method to learn your lesson."
"Okay, I'm sorry," you rushed out, your eyes widening as he pointed the gun at your chest. "I-I'm really, rea—"
"Shh," he hushed. "You're not sorry yet, love. But you will be."
A myriad of thoughts ran through your head on what you could possibly say to get out of this. You were sorry clearly, wasn't good enough. "You're going to shoot me?"
Your bladder threatened to explode, and knowing that you might die in a puddle of pee brought tears to your eyes. A bewildering cocktail of emotions engulfed you. Fear had gripped you tightly, its icy tendrils coiling around your heart, as you found yourself trapped in this fucked up situation. Yet, amidst the suffocating grip of fear, there was a grotesque sense of fascination. You couldn't deny the perverse allure that came with the feeling of being trapped, as if a part of you savored being confined, even as it elicited a thrilling sensation. WHAT? What the fuck was wrong with you?
"You gonna taste this gun one way or another," he responded, his tone dripping with impatience. He punctuated his response by dragging the gun down through the valley of your breasts. The weapon continued its way down your stomach, stopping at the edge of your robe's tie. "Will you take the bullet or the gun?" As he inclined his head, his neck tattoos stretched, emphasizing the presence of the pulsating veins that wound their way towards his enigmatic mind. Meanwhile, the small golden loop on his left ear playfully winked at you while he patiently awaited her response.
"Are you fucking serious?" you panicked, your hands gripping the ends of the tie tightly, the fabric moist with sweat. He must be kidding, right?
"I was going to take it easy on you, but when you act like a rabid puppy, you leave me with no choice but to tame you," he said, tracing the tip of his gun along the edges of the robe. "This is your last chance, or I'll do as I see fit."
Your lip trembled, and a single tear slid down your temple. "Please, don't do this."
He cocked a brow, and the act was damning. He appeared so damn unimpressed with your pleas, causing another tear to trace the path of the first. You had to survive, didn't you? You had to endure long enough to witness this man's demise with your own eyes, didn't you? It couldn't hurt that much, could it? Just focus on counting, fixating your gaze upon the cracks in the wall, and listening to the faint chirping of crickets emanating from the pipes.
You gulped and answered, "I-I'll…"
"You'll what? I need you to be loud and clear."
"Y-your…your gun…" you stuttered, words all dropping dead on your dry tongue.
"What about my gun?" he inquired, sliding the weapon beneath the tobe and directing it towards your bellbottoms. " Say it, love. Utilize that sharp tongue of yours that knows how to hurl curses."
With your eyes tightly shut, you released your grip on the tie, your hands trembling. "I... I'll... I'll take the gun."
"Take off your robe," he ordered, moving back a little. "Now!"
Sniffing, you finally listened. Hooking your thumbs into the robe's belt, you undid the tie. You fought the urge to cover yourself. Because you knew that the act of hiding would bring him greater delight than being almost entirely naked before him. He dug the thrill of conquering through struggle, and you were determined to deny him that win. You were only able to slide it a little before the muzzle of the gun got in the way.
He took the hint, grabbed the robe, and harshly moved it aside. More tears followed suit as you stuck your thighs together.
"Open your eyes and look at me."
You did as he said; your gaze got tied with his. Yet, as you stared into his eyes, you noticed something unexpected. No hatred, resentment, or even lust reflected in them. Instead, it was a vacant look devoid of any deeper meaning. It dawned on you that violence was his only language, his sole response to the world around him. He had not learned any other way to navigate life. Perhaps the only bright spot in his existence had been his beloved, cruelly taken away.
Maybe, but maybe in a parallel world, you thought, he could have been a different person—a better person, surrounded by love and family. In that alternate reality, you might have looked at him with a second glance, for his eyes, the deep azure pools, his lips, and his face were reminiscent of something celestial, qualities that angels themselves would possess, not those cast out from heaven.
Vash's touch shocked you back to reality, causing you to startle, as if you were about to leap out of your own skin. You had to beg your bones to stop shaking.
"Next, your hands," he commanded, jerking his gun to emphasize his directive. Reluctantly, you moved your arms away from your body and let them drop onto the sheets with a huff.
"Stunning," he murmured, his eyes tracing over the curves of your body. He leaned over you again, his mouth kissing the last bruise he left on your shoulder. "Do you know what these mean?" he whispered, pressing another gentle kiss to a different spot on your skin.
You shuddered beneath his touch, electricity sprouting from the point of contact and dancing across your skin. You didn't answer, but he didn't seem to mind. "Those marks," he stated with a sense of ownership, "signify that you belong to me."
The tip of his tongue darted out, trailing your flesh as he moved down towards your breasts.
"Don't—"
His teeth pierced the nipple of your left breast before you could finish your futile plea. You gasped, squeezing your eyes shut as he left another mark on your skin. "Now, whenever you see these, you'll remember me," he said, claiming your body for his own.
Once satisfied, he moved to the other nipple, leaving his own hickeys on your it. And all you could do was just take it.
When your body was well and abused by his teeth and tongue, he lifted and forced your thighs apart. You strained against him, but it only hurt you in the end. He was too strong. With a firm grip on your waist, his clothed forefinger traced the delicate crease of your groin, starting from the juncture of your thigh and trailing downward towards the very center of your being.
Before his finger reached your clit, he tantalizingly ran it up and down your engorged vulva, coming perilously close to your pussy. The sensations were overwhelming, and you felt deeply ashamed as you realized your body was responding to his touch. You wanted to cover your face because you knew he was feeling your body's betrayal.
"You're drenched," he rasped out, his lips still wet from his saliva. The sweet Vash with kind eyes had vanished entirely.
"That's called discharge! Your stupid ass wouldn't know that!" you snapped, hoping your lie would shoo him away.
He responded with a smile. "As much as I hate to say this to you, I'm no stranger to a woman's pussy and what it feels like when it weeps for me."
Your eyes widened. So this fucker had slept with women too? It seemed he had explored every possible avenue. Disgust curled your lip as you retorted, "Last time I checked, most girls weep because they're upset. Maybe you should take a hint."
He let out a chuckle. "Love, that's exactly what I'm doing."
With a firm grip, he spread your legs apart, baring your pussy to him, where the arousal glistened from within. He muttered a curse under his breath as his eyes hungrily devoured every detail of your being. Another tremble of your lips had you biting down on the traitorous flesh.
With one finger still positioned on your pussy, he raised the gun to your face with his other hand. You flinched back, squeezing your eyes shut and letting loose a startled yelp. "Calm down," he reassured you, his tone strained. "I just want you to suck it."
It took several seconds for his words to register. To process that he didn't pull the trigger and you were not dead. As the comprehension dawned, your eyes flew open, and you shot him a fierce glare. "Why the hell—"
He tapped the gun's tip against your mouth, effectively cutting you off. The remainder of your words dissipated into thin air as he glided the gun across your lips, almost as if he was painting them with lipstick.
"Suck," he ordered, his tone deepening with finality. Closing your eyes against more tears, you opened your mouth and obediently opened your mouth, allowing him to guide the gun between your teeth. You squeezed your lids tighter as you twirled your tongue over the cold metal, cringing from the nasty taste.
"My good girl," he said, pulling the dripping gun out, a trail of saliva following until it snapped.
Your entire body locked when the cool metal slid against your clit. You flinched against the foreign touch of an incredibly dangerous weapon. A wave of pure terror washed over you, and it took all your strength to keep from full-on sobbing.
Holding a gun to your head was far less intimidating than it being held between your legs. A gunshot to the head would bring instant death, but this? This would be slow and painful. Torturous.
He leaned in, close enough for his warm breath to caress your core. You raised yourself, yearning for a clearer view. At that moment, he met your gaze, peering up at you through his long, thick lashes, his perfect blue eyes sparkling with delight.
As you parted your lips to question what he was doing, he stuck out his tongue, saliva pooling to the tip and dripping off onto your pussy.
"Seems like you can never be too wet, can you, love?" Sitting up, he traced circles around your entrance with the gun, the metal slipping against your skin.
What if he shoots you mistakenly?
"Oh, my God, please do—" This time, your words were cut off as he pressed the gun past your folds. Just the tip, but enough to close your throat, only allowing a startled squeak to escape.  
He laughed cruelly. "Don't hold back. Moan if you want."
You'd snap at him if you weren't frozen solid. You couldn't look away. Helplessly, you just watched him push the gun inside you, your rounded eyes barely processing what you saw and felt. Everything so fucking surreal.
Slowly, he worked the gun inside you, eliciting both pleasure and pain. You clenched your jaw, shuddering from his ministrations but refusing to make a sound. You were determined not to grant him the satisfaction.
He gradually worked the weapon halfway in before retracting it to the very tip, granting you a brief moment to catch your breath. However, that respite was short-lived as he buried the entire barrel deep within you. Your hands clenched the sheets as you sucked in a sharp gasp and let your head fall back, unable to bear witness any longer, drained of the strength to endure the sight.
This was so, so fucked up. Beyond fucked up.
As the gun pulled back and penetrated you once more, a noise did slip through as a wave of pleasure rocked through you. FUCK!
"Good girl," he breathed. "Now open wider, love." His free hand nudged against your thigh. Without a thought, your thighs instinctively parted further. Another praise, but you barely heard it over the beating of your heart.
"I can feel how tight your pussy is. The way it clings to my gun when I slide it out—exquisite."
You bit your lip, but it wasn't enough to hold in the forthcoming moan. Or the one after that. You could hear the suctioning and slurping noises as he fucked you with his gun, and shame filled you in response. The embarrassment nearly overrode the fear. But neither was more potent than the pleasure your body was compelled to submit to.
When he angled the gun in a particular way, he hit the spot inside you that sent your eyes to the back of your head and an unchecked moan to slip free. He growled in response, further fueling your arousal. Your back arched as he skillfully continued to target and stimulate that pleasurable area.
Your hole grew impossibly tight, biting into the gun barrel when his gloved hand gripped your thigh in a bruising hold. Your heart jumped when he leaned closer but only clamped his teeth onto your inner thigh. You cried out from the sharp bite, but it quickly morphed into a moan, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through your body as he hit that spot again.
His mouth sucked your thigh, and his movements quickened until you felt the familiar stirrings of an impending orgasm settled low in the pit of your stomach.
"Please," you begged but didn't know what for. He relented, briefly tearing his mouth away, only to clamp down again, this time lower but still frustratingly distant from your center. Too far away. Sadly far away.
"Tell me what you learned, love," he demanded, looking up at you, his mouth wet from his biting. The sight made your heart drop deep into your belly, right to where the gun was driving into you.
"Not to bite you?" you guessed, your voice trembling as if you were high. He answered by biting your thigh in a punishing grip. You cried out, the pain blinding. He loosened his jaw, allowing the pain to blend with pleasure.
A primal, guttural sound slipped out as he thrust the gun deep. "Are you going to make me ask again?"
You opened your mouth, but no answer came out. Your silence allowed you to hear his warning loud and clear. He cocked the gun.
"Okay, okay, fuck," you relented with a terrified hush. "I-I learned not to run away from my cage." Those words brought tears to your eyes because uttering them aloud made you feel truly trapped by this man.
"Who owns your life, love?"
You closed your eyes, resenting the lie on the tip of your tongue, ready to spill forth just like the tears streaming down your face. "You," you whispered, the bitter taste of the words clogging your throat.
A battlefield raged in your body.
One part of you craved his touch, longing for him to make you come. Meanwhile, another part of you harbored a dark desire, wishing for him to turn the gun upon himself and fire it.
You glanced downwards at him and noted how he was staring at you. And you had the terrifying realization that he saw through your deceit and didn't believe your lies.
"You have ten more seconds to come, love. No more chances after that," he warned before nipping at your thigh again. "Rub your clit."
You hesitated. The last thing you wanted to do was allow this man the satisfaction of making you come and, even worse, helping him do it. In your mind, he didn't fucking deserve it. And though your body was strung tight with desperation for release, your mind rebelled against the idea.
"Now," he shouted, his eyes blazing with something carnal and dangerous.
Muttering a curse, you reached down and twirled your fingers over your clit, too scared of the potential consequences. If it was between orgasming and getting shot, you were going to have to choose the option that would cause the least damage.
"Good girl," he whispered. It took two more thrusts of the gun before you were propelled over the edge, your ass shooting clear off the ground as the orgasm ripped through you. You were screaming. You could feel the sound vibrating the muscles in your throat and turning it increasingly hoarse. But you couldn't hear it. Not when your entire being was consumed in fire and ice, and you could only see a blissful heaven.
The gun worked inside of you faster and deeper, drawing out the orgasm until you were literally begging for it to come to an end. He ripped the weapon out of you, and your thighs snapped shut instantly, sealing off the remnants of your shameful orgasm.
You were left a shuddering mess from the aftershocks as the waves of pleasure subsided. Meanwhile, his body towered over you. Through your half-lidded eyes, still jerking from the little shocks, you glanced up and met his gaze. His face broke into the broadest smile you had ever seen on his face, and you noticed he had dimples.
He had fucking dimples.
He was easily the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen. And you wished you'd never seen it. Because something inside your heart was being torn apart, and it felt like fear, it tasted like panic, and you didn't know how to understand the image in front of you.
You didn't want to see Vash like this. You vehemently refused to perceive him as anything other than a monster. This wasn't right. Your body was full of rage, humiliation, and shame—you knew this. But it was like your brain couldn't process those emotions, so it was just choosing to feel nothing at all. Was this what trauma did? Knowing that you had been violated, yet your body opting for a state of numbness instead?
The silver cross sprung from his shirt, diverting your gaze to the scar it adorned. "Lick this clean," he said, placing his gun onto your bared breast. "I can't use this when it's dripping your cum."
Like a magic trick, he pulled his body back, and every heat you had in your veins disappeared. With one last lingering look, he stood up and turned his back to you, his hands probably adjusting his pants. Then he began to walk leisurely toward the wall, floorboards creaking beneath his weight. Not even a passing glance was spared in your direction. Probably you didn't exist for him anymore. He had taken what he wanted, reducing you to nothingness.
Men.
As he neared the worn-out brick wall, his hand delved into his pocket, retrieving a cigarette. With practiced precision, he placed it in the corner of his mouth. His fingers trembled as he reached for his lighter, or perhaps it was merely a figment of your imagination. Anyhow, he poised himself to ignite the flame, preparing to immerse himself in the disgusting cloud of smoke that would soon envelop him.
You moved without thinking, your hand wrapping around the sticky gun. You would never lick this shit. You stood on your feet, not caring about covering yourself. The second he realized what you'd done, he backed away, raising his hands in surrender—the stupid cigarette dangling between his lips.
You pointed the gun right at his fucking head, and all you wanted to do was blow it off. All you wanted to see was his brain exploding beneath the bullet. Because you were not looking into the face of the man who could easily steal your heart under different circumstances. You didn't see him at all. You only saw a faceless man who took what he wanted from you, and you let him. But now you wanted him to fucking burn for it.
Tears built in your eyes, your vision blurring. The gun was vibrating from how hard your hand trembled, but he stood close enough that you'd strike accurately. Whether the bullet hit his head, his throat, or his chest, you didn't care.
"Love," he whispered.
You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing the sweet but stupid, stupid and stupid whisper out of your head. You didn't want to hear it.
"I haven't done anything to you." You voice cracked. "How can you hurt me like this?" Your eyes burned from the tears welling up. And within seconds, they spilt, running down your cheeks. It seemed like orgasm had pushed your feelings out with itself.
And he seemed to realize it too because a subtle change reflected in his eyes. "I asked you to stay away from trouble," he murmured, his voice so soft. "Why don't you listen to me?" He bared his teeth, his own ire flashing in his eyes. "Do you think I enjoy hurting you?"
"I do!" you shouted, thrusting the gun at him. You sucked in a sharp breath as a sob climbed up your throat. He nodded slowly, a glimmer of understanding replacing the anger that had once flamed in his eyes.
Deep down, you knew better. You knew he wasn't angry with you. He was angry because he was helpless. Hopeless. A goddamn lost cause. Because he would never be the same, and he knew that. But what he didn't know was what to do with it.
A sob escaped your throat, but the rage persisted. He slowly stepped towards you, like approaching a frightened animal with vicious teeth. His eyes didn't stray from yours as he advanced, and you were so close to slipping back into that paralyzing hold he had on you. Then he was right before you again, pressing his lips into the gun barrel.
"Does this make you feel powerful?" he murmured.
Another sob broke free, but you didn't lower the weapon.
"Does this make you feel free?"
You scowled but couldn't muster the courage to respond. You couldn't articulate what it made you feel—you just knew it made you feel something. You stared at the gun in your hand, at the smooth, heavy metal, and you were surprised to find that you enjoyed the way it nestled within your grip, like an extension of your body. It didn't frighten you anymore.
You could stand still in this moment forever.
"What you seem to have forgotten," he snarled, "is that I am already a dead man. I died months ago. So go ahead, pull that trigger, love. End the remaining fragments of my existence. I am nothing but a hollow vessel."
You broke and screwed your eyes shut against the flood of tears, but it was like putting a flimsy piece of paper over a bursting pipe. Agony etched across your face, consuming you completely. "I don't want to be here," you choked out, barely getting the words out before a gut-wrenching sob tore through your trembling lips.
"Let me help you—fuck love, just fucking kill me," he bit, his voice breaking. He opened his mouth, and the barrel slid in. His lips tightly closed around the gun, his eyes staring at you, begging you.
Pull the trigger.
It wasn't fair, but it was becoming harder and harder to look at Vash and blame him, too. You were beginning to revert to that weak, thoughtful part of yourself that was convinced your life wouldn't be such a goddamn shitshow if your father didn't come barreling into it.
But no! You would no longer let your emotions get in the way. You were supposed to play this game by its own rules. So if it were your turn to shoot, you would do it.
No hesitating. No understanding. Just pulling this little trigger.
Click.
To your dismay, there was only a vacant stillness, a blackhole that swallowed your hopes and replaced them with a rising tide of unease. Your chest resonated with the thunderous cadence of your own heart, the loud thud filling your ears as you refused to accept the defeat. Ignoring the gnawing doubts gnarling at your mind, you pulled the trigger again and again and again.
Click. Click. Click.
The sound of the emptiness mocked your growing desperation.
A cold sweat bead on your brow as you stumbled backward, your body shaking with disbelief. Your eyes widened in horror as you stared at the gun, and when your gaze met his face, your world unraveled further into a maelstrom of darkness. His lips contorted into a wicked grin, now devoid of the innocence and sadness he pretended to have. The sight sent a tremor scurrying up your soul, your skin prickling with a nauseating blend of aversion and revulsion.
"You taste fantastic, love" Vash's voice slithered with a perverse delight as he savored the moment, his tongue caressing his lips in a vile display. His hands, tainted with malice, raked through his disheveled hair. Then with an ear-splitting crack, he twisted his neck, relishing in the discomfort he inflicted upon himself. "You hate me enough to try pulling the trigger four times?"
Your blood ran icy as his words seeped into your consciousness, a sting as bitter as poison. Suffocating the room, his laughter took on a haunting quality, a symphony of evilness. Each note of his amusement revealed the true nature of his depravity, shattering the fragile illusion of triumph you once held.
"Did you really think I'll leave you with a loaded gun?" Then as if to prove how simple-minded you were, he reached into his pocket, extracting the sixth bullet with a perverse flourish. He presented it before you, a diabolical offering that sealed your fate. The weight of that one extra little bullet pressed down upon you, an oppressive force that smothered any remnants of hope.
"Game over," he declared, his voice dripping with finality, each syllable a nail in the coffin of your aspirations. The room contracted around you, a claustrophobic arena that confined you to this sleepless nightmare. "You've got balls."
Your eyes snapped up, your mind working quickly to fit all the pieces together, and he was gaping at you, staring at you in a way that was entirely foreign to you, in a way that said he was utterly, absolutely amazed. You were not sure if he was proud.
But the fact that the gun was empty the whole time was a kick in the gut. No. It was a gun in the cunt.
"It… empty…bullet…" Stuttering, you turned to look at the bed, sheets still wet from your heinous climax, and then yourself, every inch of your body bare to his disgusting gaze.
Fingers coiling like vipers ready to strike, Vash extended his arm, reaching closer to your slumped figure. As his hand reached you, he guided it downward with deliberate precision, his touch a phantom of sweetness. You remained motionless, your body as still as a fragile porcelain doll, your spirit hollowed out by his relentless torment. You offered no resistance, Your limbs heavy with acceptance. It didn't have a meaning anyway. This was his playground, and you were nothing but a worthless pawn.
The room held its breath, like you when you thought his fingers were headed for your hole again, only to find them closing around the gun with an ironclad grip.
He leaned closer to your ear, whispering, "You're far too naïve. I would never take even the slightest risk of losing my favorite toy."
Your eyes got shot closed, your lips pressing on each other as he planted a kiss on your temple and walked out without any more words.
You opened your mouth, and you screamed. You screamed and screamed until your voice cracked beneath the pressure. Until you feared your throat would shred from the force. You wanted to crawl outside of your body so desperately. Just so you could escape this feeling. No. You wanted that gun loaded with bullets to turn it on yourself.
One last shout ripped out of your throat, this one so full of pain that brought you to your knees. You crumbled. The raw sound tapered off, fading into a hoarse, staccato cry. You sucked in a deep breath, filling your lungs with oxygen you didn't want, but you were too lost in your grief to scream like you wanted to.
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I know this one-shot kinda doesn't make sense, but I'd be damned if I hadn't done it.
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ty @alexturnersmommy for the tag!! 15 questions/15 mutuals - right. here we go
1. are you named after anyone?
nope. wish i could say more but its simple as that 😭
2. when was the last time you cried?
oversharing and its bitter aftertaste ahhh fuck it. sobbed my face off few days ago on monday at my grans grave
3. do you have kids?
nah. jesus do i want kids? ehhhh- nah no youre aright
4. do you use sarcasm a lot?
...probably. nevermind - yes. one of the phrases i say the most is "aw you've only went and done it havent ye." in a really angry voice when someones done absolutely nothing- which is really confusing cause i also say it in a less angry voice when someone does something really good?? ah
5. what’s the first thing you notice about people?
their voice!! i find it really easy to like someone if their voice sounds nice and also the opposite, do love a good accent.
6. what’s your eye colour?
hazel ig?? ive got central heterochromia so the centre of my eyes are brown and the rest is green.
7. scary movies or good endings?
good ending all the way. having said that, i am an avid agnst enjoyer so put your characters through hell as long as everything works out <3
8. any special talents?
uhhh i can moonwalk and half stand on my head- that's fun at parties 😭
9. where were you born?
glasgowwwwwww... like 3 months before i should have been 😭
10. what are your hobbies?
writing (shameless plug: read my fic ahhh its my pinned post), playing guitar, sticking ungodly amount of posters and magazines on my wall and uhhh love a good wee dj sesh i wont like *record scratch*
11. do you have any pets?
got a cat called derrikk. aye.
12. what sports do you play/have you played?
does dance count as a sport? eh what the hell. dance, sailing if you count it as a sport- longboarding...if you can count that as a sport 😭 used to do basketball.
13. how tall are you?
oh here we go. i'm 6'... let me tell you i am unstoppable (very much stoppable im an unbalanced bastard) in heels
14. favourite subject in school?
music tech and drama - only class where i can just chuck on my headphones and listen to music while editing projects stuff and in drama i love a good wee bit of the spotlight
15. dream job?
wanna be a film writer and director!! #my first screenplay is a mile long and very much unfinished
oh heres the fun part (remembering tags has to be one of my weaknesses) no pressure/dw if youve already been tagged!: @ballad-of-what-could-have-been @uhbasicallyjustmilex @rainymongerbanditweasel-blog @smokinnicsuckindic @mileskanex christ my memory is actually gonna be the death of me, anyone who wants it, you're tagged!
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justagalwhowrites · 2 months
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Get To Know Me pt 1
Thank you for the tag, @sheepdogchick3 !
1. Were you named after anyone? My middle name is my paternal grandmother's name.
2. When was the last time you cried? I teared up a bit Tuesday night but fully sobbed was probably last Friday.
3. Do you have kids? No BUT I have a bonus kiddo in the form of my foreign exchange student!
4. What sports do you/have you played? Softball and figure skating when I was in school.
5. Do you use sarcasm? My therapist once said "I can't picture you being anything but witty and bitingly sarcastic at the slightest provocation" so take that for what you will.
6. First thing you notice about people? Generally their demeanor, I will tiptoe around people who seem mad and like they might direct that anger at me. Second, probably height lol
7. What's your eye color? Hazel
8. Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings, I am NOT a scary movie person! I just don't like being scared like that. I love roller coasters, I love suspense but I'm not big on horror.
9. Any talents? The closest thing I have to a talent is probably writing. I'm also a pretty decent cook and baker. I was a decent actor and director back in the day but now I mostly just use those skills to be a decent public speaker. I also did speech and debate all through high school and college (so if you were on the college forensics circuit in 2008-2011 we probably bumped into each other at least once.) That's about it, I don't have much going for me lol
10. Where were you born? Texas but I don't live there anymore! I love leaning on my Texas history when writing pre-or-no-outbreak TLOU fics though lol like hell yeah I'm going to include little Texas things in there like HEB and Shiner Bock and kolache and Dublin Dr. Pepper FIGHT ME (please don't I will lose)
11. What are your hobbies? This lol But I read a lot, play a lot of board games and D&D (if you want to geek out about these things please DM me I'm so serious), we go hiking and camping a fair bit. I also love film and am going to be starting my big Oscar movie binge probably this weekend.
12. Do you have any pets? One dog named Yondu! He's a lab/pit mix and he's my baby boy, I birthed him myself. He's also incredibly stupid but he's just the sweetest dog you will ever meet, I love him. He's currently wearing a sweater because he loves being warm and he's a snuggly thing.
13. How tall are you? 5'10" (I know, I'm a giant)
14. Favorite subject in high school? English, psychology, theater, journalism.
15. Dream job? Novelist and columnist who is sometimes a talking head so I can get paid to rant about my political opinions. I was a columnist for a few years in there with some syndication when I got picked up by wire services but that's the closest I've come!
NPT: @tightjeansjavi @diversemediums and anyone else who wants to do this! My brain is oddly fried atm and coming up with tags is overly difficult lol
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