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#i told y'all i have brainrot
x-i-l-verify · 2 years
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A family can be a traumatized 22-year-old war criminal and an (ex-)zombie pig toddler.
Bonus c!Dream w/ mask:
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[Convict Childcare AU belongs to @the-final-sif​] [pose reference]
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"What do you think Gundham looks like with a mustache?"
Base ref.
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jqnehr · 15 days
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꒰ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 : 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐳𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲-𝐚𝐭-𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞… ꒱
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word count: 950 contains: domestic fluff, crack, my shitty writing strikes AGAIN zayne x female!reader note: guess who's brainrotting again!! 🥰 I haven't posted for l&dps in a hot minute so uh here y'all go (those requests are still sitting in my drafts bro im so sorry 😔) masterlist
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⟡ …is fairly uneventful. but it’s the kind of unexciting lull that’s peaceful, not boring. you get up in the morning, turn the ac on, lay out his work clothes and shoes and towel for his morning shower, before heading to get the coffee machine going. you don’t mind having to get up so early in the morning for him; making his bento lunch boxes full of food that would be bound to get him through the day. zayne treats you like a queen, his hefty paycheck leaving more than enough for him to arrive home with a little bag from some expensive jewellery shop, presenting you with either a lovely gemmed pendant, a dazzling pair of earrings or stylish bracelets. 
⟡ …is relaxing. when he leaves for the day, you having helped him into his coat and him bidding you goodbye with a long, loving kiss, you get to blast your favourite songs and get on with what housework that needs to be done. once the chores are completed, you can chill for the rest of the day—sometimes, you just settle for being a couch potato and binge your favourite dramas with an entire tub of ice cream, maybe do some baking (i.e., chocolate brownies or cake that zayne adores), or you head out to do some grocery shopping, treating yourself along the way. 
⟡ …is amusing for those around to see. from time to time, zayne is rather in a rush and forgets to pack his lunch box that sits on the bench, ready for him to take. this provides you a perfect excuse to visit him at the hospital, tapping on his office door at a certain time when you know he’s free—which is, of course, lunchtime. the idiot usually works through his lunch break. the scolding he receives upon your arrival always has him quickly turning off his computer and obeying your orders.
“you forgot your lunch box again this morni—” looking up, zayne sees you standing frozen in the doorway, his blue bento lunch box in your hands, staring at him with this expression of pure disappointment that immediately tells him what’s coming. resigning himself to his fate, zayne steels himself for a lecture in 3, 2, 1…
“how many times do i have to tell you to actually take a break when it’s break time?” slamming the lunch box down on his desk, zayne watches his wife plant a hand on her hip and jut a finger at him, then the bento box. “do i have to come down here everyday to monitor you like a fussing mother hen? i’m going to start calling you at twelve pm, on the dot, if you don’t get your act together, zayne!”
slipping his glasses off, he reigns in his annoyance and reaches for his bento box. he can smell the still-warm food within it, and his stomach instantly rumbles in hunger. eating meals made by you is always a highlight of his day. “no need, my dear. i’ll set a reminder—”
“rubbish! you said that last week when i barged in here, catching you spending more time with your damn computer and documents than you do me.” 
“love, you need to understand that i have a lot of work that needs doing—”
“of course i understand that! but whenever you skip your lunch breaks, you come home grumpier than usual, you grumble at me when i don’t do something right, and complain of a headache! it also sends your evol off kilter, putting you in danger! i hate to be that one nagging wife, but sometimes it’s like i’m taking care of a seven-year-old who refuses to eat his brussel sprouts, and then wonder why he’s not getting any taller.”
so zayne did as he was told and ate every morsel in that bento box under your strict, watchful eye. dr greyson ushers the other interns away from the office when he heard you two ‘arguing’, the young kids snickering to themselves at the sight of the unapproachable, frigid chief cardiac surgeon zayne hastily obeying his wife’s every order.
⟡ …is sometimes stressful. zayne occasionally has these vigilante tendencies, roaming around the alleyways way past his due hour home and wiping out all these wanderers without sending you a single text about it. it leaves you absolutely worried sick, and the beratings he receives immediately upon his arrival home are ten times worse than the ones he’s subjected to when he forgets his lunch box. 
⟡ …means there are ‘terms and conditions’ established. he makes the money, but you run the shop. your shared apartment is spacious and very modern, yes, but there’s still quite a lot of vacuum cleaning and window-washing to do. zayne respects that you’re the woman of the house, and never misunderstand that your marriage is a mutual effort. you both love each other very much, and you hardly ever fight (apart from petty arguments over who’s doing the dishes tonight). just because zayne works all day does not mean he doesn’t have to pull his weight around. 
⟡ …means his days off are spent sleeping in, making love, and spending what time you have together preciously. you’ll go out to eat or go for a walk along the beach. he’ll tell you about his week, you’ll comfort him over the patients he couldn’t save. it never helps that he always beats himself up over it. no matter how much you try to tell him it wasn’t his fault, that sometimes there’s only so much he can do, he’ll always feel responsible. zayne may seem like a cold, unfeeling man, but he’s likely the most empathetic, humane person you’ve ever met.
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it's the RATE at which feminism leaves my body whenever this man shows up 🙏
I apologise for this, it was written on a whim when I am supposed to be studying for my history assignment due next week!! 🥰 oh well <3
and I'd just like to say this - if this has already been done before, then I can tell you right now that I did not know. I don't want to have another anon enter my inbox saying "erm actually this is really similar to [this person]'s post 🤓☝️" and basically accuse me of being a plagiariser. because I wrote this, as I said, on a whim while eating my avocado on toast after doing my dailies on l&dps, not after reading some other author's fic and going "hey im gonna write that", because bro ☠️ that's crazy. so if it is similar to someone else's, I apologise! I genuinely did not know (I can't stress that enough) 💛
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leanteam43 · 2 months
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"Reid's Dating The K9 Handler?"
(Dating Spencer as a K9 Handler)
summary : falling for Dr.Reid as a K9 Handler for the FBI
coloring : Morgan | Reid | Prentiss | Y/N | Garcia
pronouns : they/them | GN!reader!
warnings : Mentions of Spencer being taken hostage, I think that's all? If there's any more I'll update this !!
a/n's : HELP ME ITS POURING OUT - 🌿 | idk D:- 🎸 | EAT LOTS OF HEART SHAPED COOKIES - 🐇
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Morgan told him not too
"Reid you can't date the K9 handler" "Why not??" "They'll make you their bitch" "?? What??"
Y'all met at an FBI K9 Demonstration,
the BAU was there to show support (strauss deffo did NOT force them /s)
Reid caught one glance at you and was HOOOOKED
Love at first sight? No this man was whipped at first sight
Morgan and Emily caught on immediately
The teasing was BRUTALLLL
"Pretty boy's got a cruuuushhh~"
After the demonstration was over, Emily called you over to introduce you too
"Y/N, have you met my colleague, DR. Spencer Reid?"
Wing (Wo)men Morgan and Prentiss™️
One handshake and a smile and suddenly Mr. Chatter Box couldn't form a proper sentence
"You two actually have a lot in common! Joining the FBI so young and all."
Spencer tried impressing you by knowing facts about dogs but you knew way more, which ended up impressing him
Teaching him to say 'Belgian Malinois' properly.
"Mal-in-waa" "? Mal-inois?" "Nono-"
Eventually you two do end up in a relationship, after a lot of dates being cancelled (having no love life should really be in the job description)
Being polar opposites because you passed the FBI's physical test with flying colors and he had to get a free pass
Hotch letting you and your K9 come on certain cases
"Y/N's here??" "They work here, genius."
Break-room dates
"I'm surprised nobodies come in yet!" "I locked the doors."
Him trying, and struggling, to handle your K9 when you go on vacation.
"Y/N I've done everything you wrote and it's still bouncing off the walls." "IT??"
Spencer being the proudest bf EVERRR™️
Penelope thinking you two are the cutest couple in the building
"When are you two getting married?" *Cue both of you choking on your drink*
One of the many times spencer gets taken hostage TRUST you and your K9 are on the crime scene within the next hour
Park !! Dates !!
"Do you wanna try throwing the ball for (K9 Name)?" "Uhmm.."
Holding hands while walking your K9 :C
Spencer is lowkey scared of your K9 but in the "I know you could eat me if you wanted too, but I trust you won't" type of way
In conclusion,
i luv spencer reid spencer reid brainrot luv that silly little nerdy white man <3
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jeonqkooks · 11 months
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isn't it romantic? | myg (01)
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ENTRY ONE: Me Before You
⟶ SERIES MASTERPOST
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Many things in life have a polar opposite: left and right, night and day, yin and yang, you and Min Yoongi... Hopeless romantic meets gloomy cynic. The only thing you seem to share is a magazine column but even then, you still can’t seem to understand how Yoongi can be called ‘The Love Doctor’ when he is the antithesis of everything love represents.
pairing: yoongi x f!reader; side/past taehyung x f!reader
rating: 18+ (minors dni)
genre/warnings: coworkers to lovers, magazine writers au, fluff, angst, eventual smut; central themes of cheating (not between yoongi and oc), swearing (a staple in this household 😗), one bit is a lilllll suggestive?, mentions of drinking, i think that's it hmmm, barely edited bc u know how we do
word count: 5.1k
note: this is the yoongi brainrot speaking !!! the banner for this entry is one of my all time favorite pics of him and i will find a way to use it in everything !!! but erhm yeah iir is officially starting and i'm very curious to see what y'all think about it 😗 please like it haha jk no i'm serious please like it it's my baby
— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡
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I waste my breath on a prayer, you don't care, I was never a part of your plan, You can't make a God of somebody, Who's not even half of a half-decent man.
I Burned LA Down - Noah Cyrus
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Half your life, you hated blue.
You often associated it with so many bad things - loss, betrayal, loneliness. The great big storm. The end of life.
Most of the pigtails-wearing girls in your class disliked it because it was often a boy’s color. You hated it because of a stranger on a beach.
Then you discovered Blue Side (as ironic as the name was), the magazine that everybody and their mother was reading. There was this column - the Love Maze (as corny as it sounded) - that had your 15-year-old self hooked from the first article you read, “Flirty Pickup Lines to Text Your Crush”. It gave you a nice little distraction from the reality of your fucked up family.
You’d get home from school and dive right into it. You could count on the maze for a new article every day, covering all kinds of things - cute little quizzes, daily love horoscopes, relationship tidbits…
You started reading it religiously because it was stupid, and fun, but it was more than that too. They covered real-life stories of actual people, which you’d never really thought about. For the most part, it was tedious. Rekindling with an old flame whilst grocery shopping, accidentally spilling coffee on a stranger who then asked you out on the spot, etc. Things like that. You found them so… unremarkable. 
But then it went beyond that, when they told their stories looking back on years and years after that first happenstance. How there was love in the mundane. How there was love every single day, even on the bad ones. How there was a spark that two people cared for and nurtured into a warm fire that never burnt out.
How there was love.
How there was always love.
To you, that was magical. It was something you’d only ever heard about in fairytales when you were a kid.
You still remember the exact moment when it all changed for you.
You met Kim Taehyung during your third week at Blue Side, where you were a wide-eyed assistant editor who somehow wiggled her way into a position there, and he was an effortlessly charming graphic designer.
Admittedly, the first time that you two had ever talked, wasn’t under ideal circumstances. You were tucked away behind the office building, nails digging into your palms at 3PM on a sunny but freezing afternoon, willing your tears to stay where they belonged. You’d felt severely underqualified, like you were only flailing about, trying to keep your head above water but something kept pulling at your feet, not stopping until you were at the very bottom. People always talked about how your early 20s were the most beautiful and freeing years, when you could truly live and feel your youth blossom all around you. But that just wasn’t true. Those were the loneliest years of your life.
Taehyung had found you then, while he was out for a quick smoke break. He could’ve made a lame excuse and left, or simply pretended to not notice you were even there, but he stayed. He approached you and asked what was wrong. He offered you words of reassurance and encouragement even though you were nothing but a stranger to him.
You were touched by his simple act of kindness and his endearing smile. Maybe it’s because you’d never been offered much kindness throughout your life that his small gesture seemed like everything. In a way, it was everything. He looked like the kind of fairytale love that you’d only seen in movies, only read about in Love Maze. To this day, a part of you still thinks that you fell in love with him the very second he asked, “Are you okay?”
The timing felt right.
Taehyung felt right.
He, too, was like the sun in the middle of a cold and isolating winter.
You remember the color of his sweater, and it was then that you realized blue didn’t have to be so bad after all.
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[15:39] You: what r u doing tonight?
[15:45] Tae ♡: probably just head home after the gym. play a couple matches with Jungkook. hope i don’t die boiling water for ramen and hit the hay early
[15:46] Tae ♡: miss you :(
[15:49] You: thanks
[15:52] Tae ♡: mean
[15:53] You: lol 😇
[15:54] You: i miss you too <3
[15:56] Tae ♡: can’t you come back earlier?
[15:58] You: there’s only a week left. you’re a big boy, u can handle it :)
That was a lie. You were already on the train when you sent him that text, bouncing your leg all the way back to the city at the mere thought of surprising him with your early return. You’d taken a leave from work to visit your family, spent some time somewhere quieter, away from the hustle and bustle of the big city.
You watch as the scenery passes by, fast-paced like you’re in a montage. The rest of forever is right around the corner. You wish you could skip to your happily ever after and not have to rewind the tape ever again.
When the diamond on your ring finger catches the sunlight coming from outside the window, you allow yourself a blissful sigh as you gaze at the jewelry adorning your hand. But if you’re being honest, it doesn’t fit anymore, at least that’s what you’ve noticed over the past month. It’s a little loose now, not quite noticeable but you can still make out the slight difference if you concentrate hard enough. You should get it resized soon, maybe later this week now that your schedule has cleared up earlier than expected.
Three weeks is a lot of time to spend around only your family, you realize. You thought you could do it - seeing that you hadn’t been back in a while - but the second you stepped foot into your childhood home, you remembered what a dysfunctional household you had.
It was nice while it lasted, which wasn’t very long. You did all you could, bit your tongue and tried to suppress that unresolved anger until it eventually became too much to handle. Your mom has always been a complainer. Nobody likes talking about it, but she’d bring up the same old shit almost every day even though you all know what happened. Your dad would just sit there and listen as she berates him in front of you and your sister, and you suppose he keeps quiet because there’s really nothing to be said in his defense. It was his crime, and this is his punishment.
Sometimes, you wonder why dad still stays. Sometimes, you wonder why mom still lets him.
You just wanted to go, even though this was supposed to be home. You want to leave every time you visit, and it’s a haunting feeling that keeps following you around your whole life. Why is home always a place you want to leave?
When you arrived back in the city, the first place you went to was Taehyung’s apartment. You lounged about, enjoying the much needed silence after two whole weeks with your family, killing time as you waited for your fiance to return from work.
You thought about you and Taehyung, and how your wedding was only months away but this was still his place. You wondered why you hadn’t moved in yet, though it wasn’t for a lack of trying on his part. Even though you spent most days of the week at Taehyung’s, you still had your own place.
Twenty minutes before he was usually supposed to come home, you ordered from his favorite restaurant, so he would have a proper meal once he was back, instead of half-assing his dinner with flavorless ramen like he’d planned. 
But Taehyung didn’t come back, and the food has been cold for hours now.
You glance at your phone again.
11:02 PM.
No new notifications.
The last message you sent him was around 8:30 - just a simple Whatcha doing? - but he hasn’t replied. 
There’s a small part of you that goes into a dark place, and you physically have to shake off the thoughts. Taehyung has never given you a reason not to trust him, but still, the wandering thoughts can’t help themselves. Is it insecurity, or paranoia? Or have you been programmed to be skeptical after everything that’s happened?
Maybe he’s just caught up with work. Maybe the guys at the office had last minute plans. Maybe Jungkook showed up unannounced and dragged Taehyung into one of his shenanigans again. There’s a lot of reasons to explain why he isn’t home when he said he would be.
You wait for him. Sometimes, waiting is all you can do.
You don’t get any indication of life until some time after midnight, when the door opens and you hear him stumble into the hallway. The first thing that escapes you is a sigh of relief - relieved that he’s home, safe and sound, and not out there somewhere doing things you would really not even let yourself imagine. You sit there on the couch, shrouded by darkness, now even more committed to making him squeal out of his skin after (unintentionally) making you wait for hours like that.
You carefully listen to the sounds coming from down the hall, trying to time when you’ll jump up and shock him.
There’s his shoes dropping to the floor carelessly. There’s some shuffling as he moves about, navigating his way through the dark. There’s a light thud, the sound of something hitting the wall softly.
A sharp intake of breath. His familiar groan, muffled. A whimper, feminine.
Your mind instantly blanks, and that nervous breath from before has suddenly found its way back into your lungs, growing in size until you stand up and say, “Tae?”
Somebody shrieks, and it’s neither you nor Taehyung.
When he switches on the lights, you don’t know what to focus on first - your fiance with his shirt unbuttoned, red lipstick smudged around the corners of his mouth; or the woman next to him with her back against the wall, hair disheveled, one strap of her pretty blue dress pulled down.
Huh.
If this was what you wanted, then you suppose you succeeded.
Taehyung stares at you, eyes blown wide, mouth opening and closing dumbly as he searches for words. “Y/N, I-” he stutters, “w-what are you doing here?”
You’ve seen this exact moment in movies, read it in books and online posts on the Blue Side forum from people seeking advice. You witnessed your own mother go through it when you had just learned how to read. 
Your nails dig into the palm of your hands as you steady yourself. You’re not sure what your face is showing, if it’s even showing anything at all. You’re being pulled apart in every direction. Things that you felt as a child are things you never wanted to feel as an adult. It’s not until now that you finally understand why mom hasn’t gotten over it, even though it’s been decades. This is the kind of hurt that chases you wherever you go, never relenting until it makes sure it has a home deep within your bones.
You inhale a shaky breath, and take a step back when Taehyung starts approaching you. “Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice cracking on the apology. 
You don’t want to hear any of it. You don’t want to be here anymore. For the second time today, you’re leaving home. For the second time in your life, home is being taken away again.
Somewhere in the back of your head, a tiny voice echoes, There it is.
You run out of there, feeling like the ceiling is going to collapse on you. You hear him call out your name, but his voice drifts further and further away as you move. Taehyung isn’t even following you. The faint scent of whiskey on his breath follows you out, but not him.
You keep moving until you’re out on the street, until you can’t even see the building anymore. You shiver from the chilly air, and the influx of emotions that threatens to make you burst. Lightning cuts across the night sky, flashing bright for a split second before everything dulls into darkness again. The forecast said it was going to rain tonight, you recall. Your phone in your bag vibrates the whole time, but still, no one follows you.
Your feet slow to a halt when the first drop of rain hits the ground. You’re not even sure how long you were walking, but now that you’ve stopped, you notice the shiver is gone. You’re standing completely still, and that those seismic waves in the center of your chest from earlier are nowhere to be found.
Oh. You’re doing it again.
Heavier drops start to dampen the earth.
You don’t know where else to go.
Not your own apartment. Not now. No, it’s too empty there.
Maybe it’s a sign from the universe, that you’re just undeserving of a place to belong.
You open your phone to find his name on your screen, next to the words (7) missed calls. You ring up the only person you can, and when she finally picks up, you say, “Can I come over?”
Even when your voice cracks, you don’t cry. The earthquake never comes.
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Sohee takes you in like the good friend she is. You’re grateful that she was someone you could count on to always have your back at work, who then turned into one of your best friends outside of the office too.
She gives you some clothes to change into, and doesn’t question anything when you ask if you could spend the night. Though, you have a feeling that she knows who this is about. She leaves you alone to get some rest, but it’s probably because she has work in the morning too, and it was already 1:30AM when you interrupted her peace and quiet with the call.
You don’t sleep a wink that night.
Instead, you think about your mom, and how she must have felt when she found out about your dad’s infidelity, time and time again. It’s true what they say, children really don’t know a lot about their parents. 
How did she feel when she first found out? You can’t imagine what it must have been like, going through all of that while having two kids to think about too.
You feel bad that just yesterday, you’d been so annoyed with her that you cut your trip short.
Outside Sohee’s windows, the sky cries, like it’s grieving in place of you, its tears drowning the earth in waves of sorrow. For a moment, you consider stepping out there, to feel the rain on your face and in your hair. But in the end, you stay inside, where you’re sheltered and dry.
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You don’t realize that the sun has risen until Sohee knocks on your - well, her - door. 
She cracks it open gently. “Babe?” she asks, tentative like you’re a cornered animal, ready to bolt at any given moment. “Are you up?”
You lie in her bed, feeling so foreign in your own skin. You reckon your eyes must be bloodshot from the lack of sleep. You haven’t even cried once.
“I’m alive,” you tell her, as you stare up at the ceiling. There are no stars here, just plain cream-colored paint.
“Okay,” you hear her say, then she pauses for a moment, clearly not knowing how to proceed. 
Sohee approaches you, sits on the bed, and gives you a smile. She pats your hair, and it reminds you of your sister. “You wanna tell me what’s wrong? I have some time before I meet Namjoon for breakfast.”
You sit up, reaching for your phone on the bedside table. It’s been switched off since you got here, and when you turn it back on, a flurry of texts light up the device until the screen lags. Messages from Taehyung, asking where you were, begging you to tell him if you were safe.
You open the texts to show him that you’ve read them. That should be enough of an answer.
You test the words in your mouth for a moment. “Taehyung cheated on me,” you say, thinking that if you verbalize it, it would be real and you would finally feel bad. That it was just a delayed reaction, that you were just too in shock to process anything. You want to feel bad, but it doesn’t work.
Sohee’s eyes widen almost comically. “Are you fucking serious?” she asks in disbelief, half because of the nature of the news itself, and half because of how calm you are.
“He cheated on me,” you repeat and still, nothing surfaces. If anything, it backfires. You can physically feel yourself doing it again - shutting down. “I caught him last night.”
You’re not sure what’s wrong with you. This isn’t a normal person’s reaction after they found out their fiance was cheating on them.
But.
It is a you reaction. 
You keep doing this, even when you don’t mean to. You ran away last night, and you’re running away now. Your body shuts out every negative emotion until you feel nothing at all. It’s stupid that you do this, and it’s stupid that you don’t know how to stop doing it.
Fight or flight, and you choose flight every time. Every single fucking time.
You wish you could give Sohee something, anything would do. Scream, cry, go back to your apartment to set fire to all of Taehyung’s belongings. Anything would be better than this complete lack of emotions you’re showing. 
You watch her face as it happens, things that you should be feeling but aren’t. She’s mostly shocked, angry, but not hurt. How could she? She wasn’t the one being played for a fool. You wish you could ask her to give you some of that anger, even if it’s only a fraction.
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You don’t see Taehyung again until two days later, when he shows up at your door. Even when he’s standing in front of you, words spilling from his lips like prayers instead of apologies, you just feel… empty.
You let him inside, and the second that the door closes behind him, you fill up with unease. All your walls are up again, your system on high alert. Everything in your body is telling you that there’s an intruder in your space. Your feet are ready to bolt, just itching to get out of there Go, your head says, you’re not safe here.
Taehyung approaches you, tries to hold your hand, but you just shrug him off. The man in front of you visibly deflates, and despite the way his face falls, you don’t soften. 
The first thing he asks you is, “Why didn’t you cry?”
“What?”
“You don’t look like you’ve been crying,” he points out. “Did you cry?”
Reluctantly, you admit, “No.”
Then he just stares at you. When his judgmental gaze holds yours, you feel guilty. Guilty that you’re not mourning the death of this relationship. Guilty that you’re just letting it go, but the truth is you don’t have any fight in you. You don’t see the point in trying to salvage what’s no longer alive.
“Do you even love me?” His voice is hard when he asks this, like he’s trying to keep his anger at bay.
“Of course I love you,” you say, but it lacks conviction. You both know it. The words sound so flaccid coming out of your mouth.
But you love him.
You do.
Did?
“Then why didn’t you cry?”
How do you tell him that you can’t? That you don’t know how?
How do you tell him that if you could, you would reach inside and claw out your feelings like digging for water in a desert. 
What the hell is wrong with you? This isn’t a high school crush, or a casual summer fling.
You two were supposed to get married, for fuck’s sake. You were supposed to spend the rest of your life with him. If there’s anything that could make you break through those godforsaken defense mechanisms to let the hurt in, it should be this.
“Did you kiss someone else just to see if I would cry?” you ask. Your voice is even, and you can see that it makes Taehyung more frustrated than he already is.
He grits his teeth, exhaling. You notice his blue sweater, and you stop him before he can say anything else. Obviously, it looks a lot more worn than it did back then, but over the years you’ve always found it endearing. It’s the first memory that you have of him. It was always something you could cherish.
Now, you can’t even bear to look at it.
It’s then that you realize it doesn’t matter what answer he gives you. Yes? No? It genuinely doesn’t matter. There is nothing that can make you see him the same way ever again.
You run your thumb over the ring on your finger, twisting it for a moment to memorize the feel of it. It’s the last thing that ties you to him. “You can have this back,” you say, handing the piece of jewelry back to him.
When a relationship ends, especially for a reason like this, people tend to think it’ll go down in a kdrama-esque fashion - crying, slapping, throwing water in the other person’s face. But that’s not what this is. It’s not cathartic; sometimes the end of a relationship is just a fizzle, doesn’t even make it to a fullburn. It might be unsatisfying, but it happens every day. It’s not always a pivotal point; sometimes it’s just a point.
Taehyung stares at the object in his palm. “That’s it?” he asks in disbelief. “We’re breaking up?”
“What else is there to do?”
“You’re not even gonna ask me anything? Who she was, how it started, how long it’s been going on?”
The other morning, Sohee had asked you to elaborate after you told her what happened, but there was just not that much to tell. You were there. He brought someone else home. End of story.
It was enough for Sohee to call him every name in the book and curse his entire bloodline though.
You suppose that’s a reasonable reaction. Taehyung cheated. You never thought he was a person capable of doing that. Three years of your life, down the drain. There’s nothing left to save.
“Okay,” you shrug tiredly, like you’re just having a casual and dull conversation about the weather. “Who was she? How did it start? How long has it been going on?”
Your name comes out of his mouth, sounding like a scoff. “Ask it like you mean it.”
“But I don’t mean it,” you say. “What difference does it make? Knowing doesn’t change the fact that you still cheated on me. You know what I’ve been through and you still fucked it up. You did the worst thing you could ever do to me.”
“Fuck, I know that!” he groans, throwing his hands up. “I messed up badly, and I’m sorry. Y/N, I’m so fucking sorry. I will never deny that what I did wasn’t wrong. But have you ever stopped to think that maybe you’re to blame for this too? You never want to admit that it could be your fault too.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You tell me. I keep having to put up with your baggage.” Then he shuts right up, barely even makes it through the last syllable before he’s squeezing his eyes shut for a second, clearly realizing that out of all the things he could’ve said, that was grossly out of line. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean th-”
And now you’re getting angry for the wrong reasons.
“You cheated but somehow it’s my fault, right?” you snap. “Boohoo. Sorry that you’ve had to put up with me all these years. I’m such a burden, right? Fuck you, Taehyung.”
“Y/N, I’m sorry, I didn’t-”
“I think you should leave.”
You think it’s the steel in your voice as you say this that makes him stop arguing. 
He holds your gaze for a moment longer. You’re someone who tears up when you see stray dogs, who cries alongside the fictional characters in your favorite show. And yet, as you watch your own fiance leave…
The door clicks shut as he exits your life, but everything he said stays behind, clings to your walls and festers like mold.
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The second you step onto the floor, everyone grows quiet. Lively chatter turns into hushed whispers. People go back to making their morning coffee, side-eyeing each other in a way that’s not meant to be very subtle.
You quietly make your way to your desk, all the while feeling the nosy pairs of eyes on you as you walk. You don’t know how word got out, but you were sure that everyone would know eventually. You just didn’t expect it’d be this soon. Sohee would never do that to you, and you highly doubt that Taehyung would go around broadcasting his infidelity. 
As you set your stuff down, you make eye contact with the new intern who sits a few spots away from you. You haven’t had the chance to talk to her much, but she’s a nice girl. She gives you a small smile in greeting, and even though you know she doesn’t mean to pity you, you can still see it in her eyes.
A minute later, Sohee comes up to you. “Hey, babe,” she says, leaning on your desk with two plastic cups in her hands. One iced latte and one mango smoothie. She puts the yellow-colored beverage down and nudges it toward you, a little lackluster and unlike her usual playful self.
“Thanks,” you say, taking the smoothie with a smile, commenting, “Interesting morning so far. Never thought I’d ever be the subject of office gossip.”
“Yeah, about that. Do you know who was Taehyung’s… uhm… y’know?”
It’s okay. She can say it. You can handle it.
You already feel nothing, and there’s nothing you can even do to rectify it. Might as well lean into it, right?
Or maybe you should just go to therapy.
“No,” you tell her. “I didn’t want to know.”
“Well, uhm, now that the whole office knows, I think you should hear this from me first…” Sohee bites her bottom lip as she gauges your reaction. When you only sigh and give her the go-ahead, she continues, “It was Yura from Marketing.”
“What?”
“Yura from Marketing. You know the one. Brought muffins for the whole office on her first day? A little too bubbly for my taste. But yeah, she was at work the other day and suddenly burst into tears at, like, 10AM, and that’s how everybody found out.”
Of course. Even though people here are surrounded by celebrity gossip on the daily, nothing beats the good old-fashioned office affair. Why bother with celebrity gossip when you have front row seats to live drama unfolding ten feet away?
You take a sip of your smoothie, swallowing down the inkling of irritation that tickles the back of your throat. “Well,” you say, “I’m glad the downfall of my relationship is like a circus animal for them to gawk at. Can’t wait until they move onto the next big thing.”
“Honestly, it might blow over sooner than you think. The Love Doctor is back today.”
“What?” Your ears perk up at the mention of his name, glancing up at her in surprise as you put your drink down. “Doesn’t he work at the Paris office?”
“He used to work here. We joined around the same time. Then he transferred to Paris a few years ago. Nobody even knows why. One day he just upped and left.”
“Why didn’t you tell me he’d be here? I didn’t have time t-”
“Calm down, sweetcheeks, I only just found out,” Sohee chuckles, holding a finger against your mouth to shush you. “We all know you used to have a major lady boner for him.”
“I do not.” You don’t even know what he looks like, just his name when it appears in the byline of an article. “I admire him.”
Which is true, you do admire him. He’s your own version of a freaking rockstar. Though, you have to admit that Love Doctor is a huge cliche of a nickname, and significantly reduces the scope of his brilliance. The way that man writes makes it seem like he’s experienced lifetimes and is now here to pass on his wisdom. 
He doesn’t feel like a mere magazine writer like yourself. There’s something in his words that turns you inside out, makes you experience things that you’ve never even gone through. He flows like poetry, and leaves you stunned every time.
Okay, maybe you do have a lady boner, but for his brain.
Which… is probably something you should never say out loud.
Someone walks in then, a man you’ve never seen before. He looks around your age, if not a couple of years older. He bypasses all of the other desks without saying anything, not a single Hi or Good morning. He doesn’t look like the type to speak if not spoken to.
Then he walks over to where you and Sohee sit, and sets his bag on the empty desk next to yours.
You look at Sohee, and she just shrugs.
It can’t be him. Surely, it’s not…?
“Min Yoongi,” she says in greeting.
Oh, it is.
He spares her a nod before he looks away again. “Sohee.”
Is that the Parisian way? Is that how people normally greet someone they haven’t seen in years? Sohee and him were only colleagues, but still, the least you could do is pretend.
You’re not one to judge a book by its cover, but c’mon, seriously? Were you wrong for expecting the person who writes about love in its most raw and beautiful form to look… not like Grumpy Cat personified? It makes you even more fucking intimidated. And he’s going to be sitting next to you? The fuck?
As he sits down, you blink, still a bit dazed, not sure how to process this. Sohee gently pushes you forward, which makes you nearly stumble right into him. You turn to her with a glare, but she just motions to him, mouthing ‘Go on.’
You clear your throat, wiping your hand on your pants before you hold it out. “Hi, I’m Y/N. It’s so nice to finally meet you,” you say, trying to sound as professional as you can. “I’m really looking forward to working with you.”
He glances at you, and reaches out to meet your outstretched hand in a barely-there handshake. “Yoongi.”
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— all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 07.05.2023]
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noowayybroo · 2 months
Text
Snowed In - Yeti!M!Leon x GN!Reader (NSFW)
Merry LATE Chrimmy guys!!!! HAPPY NEW YEAR GUYS!!! (yeah... that went well) guys the fic is very long so I MARKED THE SMUT IN BLUE JUST SCROLL FOR IT
I was brainrotting with my best friend EVER and I came up with a terrible terrible thing (You're welcome) so hear me out, you're camping out in the snow, looking for, idk, self torture, and suddenly you catch the eye of a certain Yeti...
Long story short, he rescues you... eventually, and warms you up inside! I wanted to make this GN because although I am an F who LOVES F fics, I thought it'd be nice for y'all not Fs out there! I'll try keep it short so there's more chance of me finishing it! EDIT: IT's VERY LONG, JUST LIKE HIM!!!
THIS IS INSPIRED BY THE BRAINROTTINGLY NSFW GAME CLOUD MEADOW WHICH I HAVENT PLAYED BUT I WANT TO PLAY!! iN THE GAME THERE'S A CUTE YETI GUY AND HE LOOKS LIKE LEON A BIT, NO?!???!??!!?
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guys I tried to edit this like 2000 times and every fucking time tumblr deleted my edit I am going insane but I pulled through for YOU! (eventually)
Honestly guys i'm not happy with this one it by far isn't my best work so read at your own peril. What I really want is for people to love the idea, not the fic, you know?? xx Pls do something with it if you like it! <3
Characters: GN!Reader, Yeti! Monster!Leon Kennedy
Warnings: NSFW, mentions of penetration, kissing, licking, cuddling etc, cumming iinside toooo, Reader is GN for inclusivity, and I've described the sex as P-in-Hole lol. He fucks you and you imagine where ig. !! Leon is kinda monstrous and not too human, and also in the start he kinda wrecks ur camp and scares the shit outta u so if it'll trigger pls dont read. Leon isn't monstrous he;s just big, furry and a bit primal. Kinda switchy / sub leon so at the start he lets you push him around n then he rails u v hard sooo uhhgjjj and also u have no condom dont be so naughty!!! NOT PROOF READ THERE WILL BE ISSUES OK BUT i CANNAE BE ASKED SORRY
Stay safe n happy this Winter!
"Just picture it! The fresh air! All that snow!" A naive relative tells you, patting you firmly on the shoulder. You stare down blankly at the brochure in your hands, all about a family getaway to a ski resort in some snowy, far off mountains. You didn't doubt them when they told you it'd be a good family exercise, but all you wanted to bond with was your warm bed and all the other things you had to do.
Only a week later, there you were. The sigh you let out dispersed into a cloud of white vapour before your eyes, leaving you to gaze upon your surroundings. Before you sat the exact sight from the brochure you held only a week ago, and it was beautiful. Crisp snow crunched beneath each trudging step, snow-tipped pines line each iced hill and valley as far as your eye could see. No longer mere inky blotches on thick paper - the wind howled past, whistling through each tree, and sending shivers up your over-clothed spine.
You learn the hard way that you won't even have a warm cabin and hearth to laze by during your chilly nights as you follow your family to pick up the camping gear they would be renting. You supposed it'd save money, but at what cost? Pneumonia?
And as you're all setting up camp, you can't help recall being at home wrapped up in your warm covers and revelling in the endless wonders of your Tumblr "for you" page. You also can't help feeling as though you're being... watched, and not by fellow campers in their tents.
"There's nothing out here but adorable rodents and birds!" your guide would exclaim for the fourth time now, in a screech which rivalled that of any of the feathered friends he'd referred to. He means to reassure you, and whilst you'd love to trust what he says with his years of experience in mind, you can't help but doubt him.
Eventually, night falls, and after a good few hours around a make-shift campfire sipping hot drinks of your choice, you and your family finally resign to bed. It's freezing, and despite your warmest sleeping-bag and thickest pyjamas, your teeth chatter and your body shakes. But you're convinced to fall asleep. The sooner you do, the sooner the cold fades away. So, eventually, amidst the wind battering your tent, and night-time ambience, you drift off.
You wake with a start, surprisingly warm, but quickly realise you're alone. Oh no. That's terrifying. After trying (and failing) for a good while to get signal (ever the priority (maybe this is too self-insert)), you crawl out of your tent. The sun hangs high in the sky. You were out for a while. Your sigh of relief must be audible once you find a scrawled note pinned to the makeshift seating surrounding your lit campfire.
"Good morning Sleepyhead!" It reads, and you can tell by the writing exactly who wrote it.
"We didn't want to wake you up so we've gone to get some food! Be back soon! xxx"
Well, at least you knew they couldn't be far away. You're not at all ready for the cold winds that begin to gnaw at your skin again so, groggily, you crawl back into your tent. You stretch, get back into your cocoon, and try once more to get signal.
He'd been watching you for a while now. He watched all the humans at the ski resort as they went about their festive holidays, completely unaware of his presence and he wouldn't have it any other way. Once like you, Leon was just like any other man, or government agent. That was until he encountered a strange virus on one of his missions. Years ago now, the virus caused him to significantly grow in size. He became taller and slightly buffer, and began to grow white fur on most of his body. His hair also became white.
Amused, Leon referred to it as the Y-virus (Y for Yeti) to anyone who'd listen, but, afraid of any negative side effects and any testing, hid away in some distant mountains. If you'd see his face, anyone who knew him might recognise him, and he dared not admit it to anyone, but he enjoyed being free, living off of wild animals and things. That, and, any snacks he could pilfer from unattended camps. He enjoyed his tranquil life, but grew to hate the years of loneliness he'd subjected himself to. As time went on, however, Leon slowly forgot what it was like to interact with other humans. And then, he forgot how to speak well too.
He watched as humans had their holidays, and spent time with friends and family. He was content in the knowledge that you were all happy, and, once the people cleared off, he'd investigate the area to see how far humans were developing, and whether he was still in the papers.
He'd been watching your camp too, and he was certain you'd all left. This was his chance to investigate.
You've been laying on your makeshift bed for a few minutes now when suddenly, you make out the soft sound of trudging through snow towards your tent. The footsteps are slow, but you chalk that up to any exhaustion a human would experience after facing the monster of a hill your tent was precariously placed upon. At first, you think it could be family, until you realise there's only one set of steps. It was probably someone on their way to wherever they were going. Nothing concerning you.
The sound approaches though, each footfall sounding loud, heavy and far apart. You'd think they were just walking slowly, if not for the speed at which the volume of each step increases. Before you know it, a large shadow almost eclipses your tent. A male figure. A tall one at that, and he seems to be about to walk straight through your camp.
Bit unnecessary...
Except he doesn't. The man just stops outside your tent. He looks around a bit. Maybe he needs some help, you think. Groaning quietly, you crawl out of bed, and peep through the unzipped door of your tent-
Tall. Really, really tall. At least 6ft. And you're staring right at his ass. And he doesn't... have clothes on.
Before you stands, quite proudly, something you can only describe as a yeti. He's covered from head to toe in thick, soft white fur. He's broad, muscular, and his waist forms a sharp V as it reaches his hips. Even through his glossy, well kept coat, the definition of each muscle and delicious shoulder blade catches your eye. You're terrified, hoping it's just some sort of elaborate cosplay to scare people. There's definitely space for someone to be hiding inside that... realistic suit. Ducking into your tent, you continue to observe with only one eye peeking from the tent, hoping you won't be noticed.
The man begins to look around, two catlike ears upon his head are perked as he scans his surroundings and eventually, he looks in your direction. He's far too tall to even register you while his eyes are at their level, but oh boy do you register him. You drink in his form, and, as he turns, his face. He's chiselled, certainly a sight for the sorest of eyes. His face is simply the cutest, softest almost feline looking one, and his jaw juts out as he analyses his surroundings thoughtfully.
You know how Leon looks, so I don't need to go into detail about the way his piercing blue eyes reflect the sun, shining through his silver fringe. I don't need to describe to you how his fluffy bangs sway dramatically as he looks around, or how he playfully blows a soft puff of breath upwards to clear some stray hair from his eyes.
Fortunately for you, I also don't need to tell you that he doesn't see you. He seems almost in a trance, stepping around carefully, analysing the tents and each miscellaneous object littered around. It seems as though he's checking up on things- the quality of them, the materials they're made of. He seems curious.
And then you see it, a small burst of flame at his right ankle. He's stepped too close to the fire pit. The yeti lets out a startled grunt, jumping into the air like a petrified cat. His hair bristles and stands on end as he tries to stand one legged in the snow, trying to bury his leg to put it out.
Then he loses his balance, the gargantuan man stumbling forward before suffering an untimely meeting with the guy line of a nearby tent. He yelps, trips, and with a loud thud and a few pings, lands face first in the snow right outside your tent. His collision with the strings holding up your tent sends them pinging out of the soft snow, and suddenly, your tent collapses around you, trapping you in.
Even in weak flails, he'd managed to tear his claws through another tent. You were terrified. What if he saw you?
In his clumsy efforts, the man had thrown quite a large amount of snow into your tent, and you gradually become colder, damper and more panicked as the freezing wet fabric of the tent pins you down. Scared to move, you only shiver as you completely hide inside now, not wanting the abomination outside to find you. You'd seen enough now to be certain that wasn't a costume. He was too... real.
You hear frantic fumbling and crunches of snow as the man outside extinguishes the last of his afflictions. His breaths are heavy, and gradually slow to a calming rate. And, after a while of sitting there still, perhaps shocked, he works up the courage to gaze around at the tents he's toppled. When his eyes at last land on your entirely ruined one, his heart sinks straight to his gut. His shoulder slump and he just stares in your direction, guilty being an understatement. Maybe if he just stares at the tent for a little longer, everything will undo itself, he seems to think, ogling your direction as his mouth hangs open.
Instead, it draws his attention to your shivering form beneath the soaked fabric. He swallows thickly, eyes widening and pupils narrowing.
"Fuck..." he groans meekly, muscles tensing in anticipation before stumbling to his feet. He kicks snow as he makes a series of small, unsure steps towards the tent. Then, in a flurry of inevitable motion, he crouches and throws what's left of your tent off of you. And just like that, with a yelp, your prison of a disguise is torn from you, exposing your skin to the cool, dry air. You shiver, duck away and curl further into a ball. Some small part of you prays for this to be just a nightmare, but the rest of you knows it's very real.
As soon as you hit hit his eyes, Leon falters. He leans back in surprise and his brows furrow in pity and regret. He could tear you apart so easily, and he'd just proved it. Sniffing the air a little, eventually he moves in, reaching out to you with large, clawed hands. He's almost pouting at you, eyes narrowed in concentration as he moves in. All you can do is hold your breath. You ball yourself up tighter. You have no idea how you'll survive this - you're past the point of playing dead. All you can do is stare up at him, silently pleading for mercy.
His hands are warm where they touch you. They're large too - large enough to almost encompass each of your upper arms in their soft grip. He just stays there for a while, gently holding your arms as they shiver. His gaze is locked on them as he focuses, gently adjusting the force at which he holds you, rhythmically squeezing you a little, just to get a feel. His tongue darts out in his focus, and after a while, his eyes are back on yours.
You wondered when your family would be back. You wondered if they could even save you. And then it hit you. You wondered if they'd never be back.
Gently, Leon pries your arms away from your face where you'd shielded yourself so desperately. When I say gentle, well, to him it was. He barely had to exert any force to bend you to his will. You were like putty to him. He could easily overpower you, and he didn't dwell on whether it was down to sheer strength or your fear.
Emotionless eyes scan you up and down a few times, ultimately resting on your face once more as a slow hand wipes your clinging hair from your forehead. Then, he reaches out again. Large clawed hands find purchase under each of your arms. They slide in easily as you comply, not wishing to enrage him. He hoists you up with ease, save a small grunt. Next thing you know, he's standing and you're held at arm's distance from him like a cat. He peers up at you, smiling for the first time. He chuffs, hot breath landing on your face; he seems proud of his catch.
Terrified and uncomfortable, you continue to shake in his grip. All you can do is stare at him pleadingly, and even if you had the willpower, you doubted you could escape him. Your clothes are soaked through now, and if you had to thank him for anything, it would be for warming your arms and not killing you... yet. His blues stalk you through his silvery fringe, and after sniffing your air a few times, he sighs and pulls you in.
You're terrified. You can't look. You squeeze your eyes shut. What if he eats you?? You couldn't even begin to picture it, but after a few seconds of being pressed against his warm body, a gentle caress of your thigh coerces you to open your legs a little to allow him space between them. He grunts, wrapping your legs around his waist and carrying you more supportively now, like a child.
Buried in his chest, you can't see the small awkward smile he gives you, or the look of relief he sends your way as you seem to warm up to him (literally.) Through small rubs and caresses up your back and where he holds you by your thighs, he slowly rubs his warmth into you. Mind so frazzled by fear, all you can really do is let him hold you. You shiver occasionally, afraid of what he may do to you, but otherwise remain still. You don't want to get on his bad side.
After a while of peace, he gently places a finger below your chin, and guides your face up to meet his. He leans in, nuzzles your cheek a little with his nose, and takes a deep breath in. He lingers on you for a while - eyes closing in either bliss or contemplation, before walking once more. He scowls at the firepit as he passes it, beginning to carry you off in the direction he came in.
Where was he taking you? You go a little rigid, now realising you're being abducted. You panic, and it manifests in small squirms, trying to ball yourself up again and push away, levering yourself away from the yeti. You strain against him, and your small noises of fear and exertion perk his ears. He glances down at you tenderly, ceasing his stride to raise a gentle finger to your teary eyes. He swallows thickly and puffs out another deep breath, thinking for a while. He's not at all sure what to do, and doesn't want to risk failing to speak of his own accord, so instead just bounces you softly like a father cradling a child.
You feel warm and cared for, and become distracted wondering if he can actually understand you. However, your surrender was enough compliance for him to continue walking, and he carries on carting you off to goodness knows where. You wouldn't know this, but in truth, Leon was so confused. He hadn't come face to face with a human in years, nevermind one who was so brittle and terrified of him. Somehow, after all these years, he still imagined himself to be the hero, not the monster.
He hadn't intended to face you. He didn't mean to destroy your tent, or to plunge you into the freezing cold... What he'd meant to do was leave you there, before any of that could happen. He'd felt guilty. He wouldn't let his actions affect you and your sweet holiday so negatively. It was decided for him, he was sure he was helping you. He was going to fix things, and warm you up.
The cold and fear had left you weak. You sit in his arms, limp, knowing you couldn't get away even if you'd tried. The gentle rock of his body against yours as he powers through the snow soothes you. His warmth and strong scent clouds your judgement. Before very long, you find yourself snuggling into him somewhat as you watch your camp grow further and further away through tired eyes. He squeezes you gently as he feels you sink into him. One hand rubs up and down your back soothingly. It was ironic, as your captor, how much reassurance Leon was trying to give you.
"C-can you understand me?" You whisper eventually, raising your head to gaze up at the large man's jaw. His ears twitch a little and then he hums. He peers down at you, thoughtfully.
"Hm.. yeah." His voice is gravelly, rough and deep. It's quiet though, like he doesn't use it much.
"You can?!" Your eyes widen and you pull away a little. Leon was becoming quite nervous now. He feared this moment. He didn't want to talk to you at all. He knew he'd fuck up. In response to your question, Leon smiles sheepishly, revealing his sharp teeth. You get straight to the point. "Where are you taking me?"
He frowns and peers down at you. "My... home?"
"Why??" you feel hopeless again. He seemed human enough to appeal to, but then again, you had no idea what he wanted with you.
"...It's warm here" he eventually mumbles as you notice your surroundings suddenly getting a little darker as he carries you into a cave. You'd been so entranced staring up at him, that you hadn't taken in your surroundings for a while. As you do, you notice several random objects lying around. Some looked natural and from the forest like pinecones, sticks and berries. Others seemed very human. Smartphones, newspapers... clothes.
Oh no. You were going to die here.
At least none of the belongings seemed to belong to you or your family... yet. That was still terrifying though. Where was all this stuff from? Some of it was even torn... That's it, you're getting out of here. With a newfound vigour, you begin to claw at his shoulder and back, climbing out of his arms. For a second, it works, until he catches on and wraps his burly hands around your waist, yanking you back down to where he has a good hold on you. He ducks down to look you in the eyes, almost pleading. "Not gonna hurt you." His voice is a soft hum now, claws prodding you as he holds you still.
Somehow, he comes across as quite trustworthy. You couldn't be scared of him just because he's big, not when he's so clumsy and cute. And certainly not when he holds you and watches you as if you were the most precious, sweet individual he'd encountered. It was hard to ignore him, too, with his smooth voice and handsome face, and the careful way he leans over you as he carries you deeper into his cave to shelter you from droplets of condensation.
"Can you please let me go?" you plead.
"I'll take you" he hums, missing the way your eyes widen in shock and confusion. He jostles you up a little to make sure you stay wrapped around his waist and no lower, before eventually laying you down on some soft-makeshift bedding. You're so far into the cave that most of the light from outside is gone. Nobody would find you now, even if they saw the small gas lamp Leon lit beside you. He's about to lay down right beside you when he realises, perhaps, it's not the right thing to do.
Sheepishly, he motions to a spot on his own bed beside you. "Can I?" You have no idea what to say, so, you nod. You were in his home, if you could even call it that, you weren't gonna anger him. You felt as though you needed to make friends with him if you planned on getting out of this alive. And so, as the large man slowly got onto his knees before laying down on his side beside you, it struck you just how "Beauty and the beast" this situation really was. He groaned a little and his joints creaked somewhat as he slowly got down, propping his head up with one hand as he watches you.
Huge was an understatement, and whilst he did have monstrous features and strength, he seemed like the type to at least give you a kind death should he want to eat you-
No, stop. Why are you thinking like that?
You shiver, replacing his amused hum with another thick swallow. His wide eyes scan you.
"Still cold." his lips tug disapprovingly as he watches you lay there, and when you nod, he wraps a blanket around you that he got from goodness knows where. His voice echoed in the small cave, even if he seemed to be whispering now. Leon didn't like causing you fear, but he also didn't like ruining your shelter and warmth, and so, he sought to provide those for you.
You lay there, facing him. Slow and heavy breaths continue to rush over your face, fanning you as he invades your personal space. Yet for some reason, you can't bring yourself to move away. Turning your head momentarily, you eye your camp in the distance. Maybe if you could just get up and run now, you could escape him. Maybe he'd be kind and let you go. You shake again, the cave only rescuing you from the wind, not the biting cold his body provided you shelter from only moments earlier.
Suddenly, his burly arms are back on you. They wrap around you and pull you close, leaving you no space but to open your legs a little for him to get in between. He blankets you in a weighted embrace, head rested in your neck, pressed intimately close. "You're still shivering" He murmurs, silently noticing how your hairs stand on end at his proximity and gravelly tones. You feel his soft fur against your face, between your fingers. You can almost hear his heartbeat.
It's at this point, reluctantly, that you start to allow your attraction to him to manifest. The signs had all been there before as you admired his figure and strength, and basked in his voice. But now, you had no way of escape. You might as well just give in and enjoy the ride. So, you relax against him, wrapping your leg around him again, and letting him give you all of the closeness he can.
Leon knows this is wrong. He, at heart, is still very human, and knows that he should have abandoned you about 20 minutes ago after he destroyed your tent. Heck, he shouldn't have even gone to investigate. But he couldn't fight how good this felt. He couldn't fight the slow boner he was developing as you snuggled up to him so innocently, and he couldn't help wondering what a relationship with a human would be like, after all these years.
He also cant help the small shocked whimper he makes when you move down a little to snuggle up closer to him, and not-so-accidentally press quite firmly against his little issue. His hands seize your waist, threatening to move you, but when you tense in protest, he groans and goes limp, wrapping them around you again. He falls under the impression that if he keeps still, and if he keeps you still, you won't know what's really going on.
It was difficult to keep your morbid curiosity at bay, about fucking a literal Yeti. It was also difficult to not get too attached to the soothing warmth of his shimmery fur and hot skin. His slow breaths and small smile had you in a sleepy trance. You could fall asleep like this and rest. It would be the warmest night you'd get out here, and in all honesty, this was all starting to feel like a nice, cuddly dream.
Too much so.
"What do you want from me?" You lean back to look into his eyes which shoot open. He seems sleepy too. Your presence comforting him more than you could ever know. He stammers a little.
"W.. N- Nothing." he pleads, leaning in to press his forehead to yours. He thinks for a long while, articulating his words. "Just wanna... keep you warm, n safe." he sighs. You're digesting his response when his eyes shoot open in terror as he feels his cock kick against you once. He loosens his grip. This was terrible. He was being selfish. Maybe he should take you home now.
"Are you gonna let me go back?? I have a family out there, please." You whimper, giving him the eyes. He can't say no, he never wanted to hold you hostage. He just wanted to make sure you were ok and-
"Are you warm now?" he huffs, looking down at you to gauge your expression. In all honesty, you were warm, physically and emotionally. He was cute, too cute, and you could tell that he cared. For the first time since you'd met, you almost felt sure that he would actually let you go. And so, you wanted to test him. You pretend to think for a while.
"mmm, no." you smile up at him.
"No??" He seems shocked, running his hands over you to check, nuzzling his nose against your face. "You feel so... warm" he chokes out, eyeing you worriedly. He presses his finger tips to your forehead "you ill?" he grumbles "Where?" His huge hand works its way up and down your body, pressing everywhere he can whilst still being decent, checking for warmth. Then, when he identifies that your leg is a little cool, he wraps his around it.
You stare up at him. The answer is very simple. "Inside." you hum. He short circuits. Leon stares down at you, a faint blush just becoming visible beneath the fur of his cheeks. Inside? What did that mean? How was he meant to warm you up there???
Oh.
Leon stares at you in shock. He swallows thickly, and you decide he's just not sure what you mean, so, you decide to be a little more genuine about it. "Look... I'm... I'm not even sure if this is real. But I've never seen anything like you before and I'm just curious." There's a stunned silence as he eyes you up and down, thinking to himself.
"If you don't want to- it's fine." He wanted to. Oh boy did he want to. He just wasn't sure if it'd be right. He never imagined this day would come. He never thought he'd be able to fuck someone ever again. Leon hums down at you.
"Really shouldn't." those words pop your balloon instantly. You pout at him, but you're willing to take his answer.
"Why not?"
"No condom..." he sighs "Unless you-"
"No."
You both lay there in silence for a while before he crumbles, head falling to reside in the crook of your neck once more. You can tell he's thinking about it- taking you in, soaking into you. He's not felt more content in years. Cuddling up to you, he croons before placing a chaste kiss to your throat.
...Maybe he does want it...
You cover his cheek with small kisses, and sneakily reposition yourself against his throbbing cock. He whines, bucks into you once, and buries his fanged mouth against your skin where he feverishly kisses, trying to hide his sounds. Leon couldn't even admit to himself, let alone you, how pent up he'd been, and now? He wouldn't at all be able to let this opportunity slide.
One of his hands roams your body, sliding down to grip your waist possessively, tugging you hard against him. Then he retreats, realising his mistake. You grab his hand and return it to where it was, earning a playful chuckle and another shy buck of his hips. He runs that hand up your body twice more, watching entranced by the way it glides over your hips and chest, before using it to cup your face. He makes you look up at him.
"You sure?" He's hesitant, a little shaky. You're both very aware that this could end terribly. He could crush you.
"Uhuh.." Just like that, your fate is sealed. He leans in, and pulls you close for a hungry kiss. Expected from a mythical creature, Leon was a walking antithesis: His physical size and strength made him dominant and scary, and yet each of his actions was soft, caring and calculated... and needy. He whines as your lips meet his searing ones. He was so cute, so pliable. You're sure he'd do anything you wanted at this point, and so, testing your luck, you gently grind against him.
He instantly reciprocates, moaning a little as he clutches you tightly. Leon's ears sit flat to his head as he ruts against you, eyes screwed shut, mouth willingly opening enough for you to use some tongue. You've been making out for what, 2 minutes? And the man is already panting, groaning, rock solid against you as he humps desperately. When you slow down on the tongue, he licks eagerly into your mouth too, and moves to pepper kisses and licks all over your cheeks and neck while you catch your breath.
He's so cute, practically begging for you with his mouth but no words come to his aid. Instead, all the gentle giant can do is stare down at you with pleading giant puppy eyes. You want to go further with him. Guiding his hand down towards your sex, you intrust him to ready you. And oh boy does he. He swallows thickly, eyes locking onto you as if you're some mission or target, and he begins to work on you, slowly at first. He groans, cock kicking against you as he licks his lips. Eyes closed tight, kissing you all over, he doesn't even notice you undressing your bottom half until he hears you shimmy the fabric down your legs.
But that's when you feel it too. His hard cock poking out from his coat, slowly drooling copious pearls of precum, smearing his fur. He ruts it against you, the force of his huge hips shoving you so hard that you wrap yourself around him again just to stay put. Suddenly, Leon picks up his pace on you just where it feels best, rubbing with more force and energy than before. Unbeknownst to you, he had a plan. You let out a moan, mouth open wide enough for him to suddenly jam two huge digits in there. It didn't hurt, he wouldn't hurt you, but for a second, you feared for your life.
Even half way in, his fingers had you gagging, choking and drooling. You got them nice and wet for him, and as thanks, they'd be going inside you. Replacing his fingers with his tongue again, he needily whimpers and whines into your mouth.
"Fuck, you're w.. g-great... You're great" he groans, toying with your entrance, eyes shut once more as he grinds into you. He's slow, he understands his fingers are huge, especially by the reaction he didn't mean to elicit from filling your mouth with them, and so, once he breaches you, one finger at a time, makes sure to go slowly. He tries a bit of everything, thrusting, curling them, scissoring you open, all gently until he thinks you can take more.
He fills you so perfectly, so deliciously with just his fingers alone, and he knows what to do even whilst kissing you all over, but you don't dwell on where he got the experience. Leon nibbles a little at your lobe, trapping it gently between his sharp fangs, and moves towards teasing other parts of your throat and shoulder in this way until you begin grinding against his fingers, chasing something more. You snapped out of it a little when you realised just how large his member was. Easily over 7, maybe 8 inches.
And now, he was lining it up with you, holding his breath as he lets it slip, teasing your entrance a few times. It was thick too. The whole thing was just pretty, and due to his strange skin colour, where it would be red and angry it was tinged with a soft purple.
The last thing you see before he stuffs you is his brows furrowed in concentration as he lines himself up. As soon as he slides in, you groan and buck from the stretch of just the first few inches. He shakes, he twitches a little, and he curls up to you, holding you oh-so-dearly. His hips buck shallowly a few times but ultimately he's patient, waiting for the go ahead until he can continue to slowly fill you up. A few shallow thrusts and he works his way deeper, then he gives you a minute or so before repeating.
As bottomed out as he can be, Leon begins a torturously slow pace. He watches closely for you reaction. He's wondering what you like, what you want from him. Eventually, he's groaning with each slow thrust, apparently more edging for him than you. He quickens his pace, leaning over you, propping himself up as he pounds into you a little roughly now. He barely pulls out, each slow roll against of his hips against your sex making you want to cry out.
It's having an affect on him too. Before long, Leon is groaning and growling with each thrust. He's on his knees, body forcing your legs up against your chest as he pile-drives into you. His head hangs by your ear, occasionally nipping and sucking at you, but for the most part, growling like a feral animal. He slows down a little before driving a series of hard, strong thrusts into you with merciless force. Snarling and snapping his jaws, each smack of his hips shifts your body across the bed until he has to grab your ankle to pull you back to him.
He knows you're close, but he wants this moment to last and he's sure you do too. His breath tickles your ear between breathless chuckles, his voice deep and sultry, "H..heh... you ever... ridden a yeti?" As soon as you shake your head no, he purrs. "You want to?"
You nod. He picks you up with ease, temporarily leaving you empty and collapses onto his back. He's quick to fill you to the brim once more as soon as he's comfortable. He groans and throws his head back as you slide down him. And then, lets you work your magic. He groans under you, arms folded behind his head to cushion himself. His eyes follow you, watching you almost predatorily as you bounce on him, and occasionally, his hips snap up to meet yours.
"Fuck, you know, you're so... gnnn... good at this" he whines, trying to force his eyes to stay open so he can watch you.
He bites his lip, bucking up to meet you as his hands reach out for you. They're huge. One feels your body, supporting you, the other holds your ass, guiding you up and down. He smirks, clearly about to make another comment, when you reach down caress his chest, digging your nails into his pecs as best you can. His head falls back and he lets out an almost roar. "Fucckkk" he hums, staring up at you.
You're close again, but you're getting tired. Luckily for you, he understands. Leon sits up, wrapping his huge arms around you. He snuggles into your neck, littering it with growls and kisses as his hips go wild, pistoning into you with a force somehow he hadn't used yet. You were amazed, for such a large man, how hard and fast he could rabbit into your hole. His breaths deep, laboured and lustful as he lost himself in you.
It wasn't long before you were cumming on his cock, gripping his fat length like a vice. He groans, plugging his mouth with your shoulder, but not biting hard. You know exactly what's coming as he adjusts his legs, thrusting hard, almost throwing you up into the air if it weren't for his arms pinning you down to him. His growls and groans shake your core, rutting up in a similar fashion a few times as he pumps you full of his seed. And then he collapses, falling back against his bed. He pants and blushes furiously.
A small grin litters his face, he looks like he's about to pass out as he lays there, eyes narrow and chest heaving. It takes him a while to come down, cock still throbbing and kicking inside you. With how tight you are around him, there's no chance you'll spill a drop before he pulls out.
"Mmmm, fuck" he hums contentedly, hips jostling you upwards a few more times as he carefully reaches up to hold your face. His hand dwarfs your head easily, and he smiles. He's hesitant as he strokes your face. He knows what he did was probably wrong, but it felt so good. It delights him when, as he gently pulls you towards him, you come readily, leaning down to meet his lips.
This kiss isn't hungry or greedy. It's needy and loving. It's an apology, and a thank you, all at once. And when you pull away, his eyes flutter open to gaze lovingly at you.
He sighs, realising his time is up. "Alright, Take you back now, as promised." You're not having it. Playfully, you roll your hips against his and sigh down at him. His cock is half soft inside you now, and still feels great. He stares up at you, confused, ears perked. "What's wrong? Why not?"
"I'm cold outside again..." you pout. He chuckles, leaning up to grab you in a tight hug before laying down once more, this time with you as his captive.
"Well then, allow me to warm you up again."
And that he did.
Eventually you returned to your camp. With Leon carrying you, that is. If he'd given you anything, it was a severe case of jelly-leg.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
guys I just awnna have a little rant at u rn I'm sorry this fic is late and not christmas and Im sorry but I tried to write n edit this like 3 times and each time tumblr deleted my fucking edit im so fucking mad I had internet and I saved it as a draft the works but tumblr was a penis grrrr also, also, the times I edited it like and wrote some I had such good ideas for jokes and puns and things and good writing and now because iM fed up all my good ideas have left me so sorry that this fic is shitty bye thanks for existing ily.
the fic is so long im sorryy i hope you like him
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mysticalsoot · 1 year
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dadbur hc's to feel something
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a/n; I am struggling to write full fledged fics rn so I let the brainrot win and I've now done...this. don't ask. also, thank you to lilly and elliot for decided what hc's I was meant to write, y'all are awesome and I love you both dearly<3
warnings; not much!! mentions of pregnancy, health issues (just general idea), pain mentions, this may worsen baby fever, sorry not my fault, blame wilbur.
reader is gn but in some cases afab!! (it's optional to read those parts, dw!)
masterlist (requests are open btw!)
—★—
- absolutely hated children as a teen and early 20-something
- babysat one baby of his friends and it was over for him
- absolutely adored that little baby and nearly cried when he had to leave them
- now as a husband, he wanted a kid so bad
- constantly gushing when he passes by baby shops or just melts when he sees a baby
- horrible baby fever. sorry to you.
- won't ever push the issue, but still mentions it and communicates clearly that he does want kids but he especially wants kids with you. heart melted
- if you don't want kids at the moment, he will absolutely respect that and will definitely do his best to shut up during bouts of baby fever
- I mean how could he not!! they're so adorable!!
- once you do actually have a kid, regardless of what way—he's doing anything and everything he can to prepare.
- he's buying parenting books; how to create healthy habits with your baby, how to raise a compassionate child, what to do and what not to do when becoming a parent
- he bought soo many baby outfits and onesies—all the way up to a year old. even grabbed some premie sizes, just in case.
- the nursery was set up almost immediately, a nature theme. he suggested a Minecraft theme but you shot that down immediately. there was pouting involved.
- but, you came to a compromise; dark green walls, light yellow accents, browns, etc. you even let him make Minecraft bees out of those wooden blocks and you thought they were the cutest thing ever. there were also stuffies of Minecraft animals scattered on shelves and on furniture. (please take Amazon away from this man, it's so dangerous).
- in the case of pregnancy; he was very insistent on being sure that both baby and you were in perfect health. and he never let you do more than he thought was appropriate.
- dishes? nope that's a father's job. going down the stairs? right by your side, watching your every step and yes, will make you hold his hand.
- to most others he was overbearing—but he was always like that and the whole pregnancy thing just enhanced it
- Wilbur is anxious and he never does well with medical or health things at all, his mind constantly running wild with various possibilities. it was scary for him.
- so yes, you'd get off dish nights and would be chaperoned down the stairs.
- but he also made sure you had your medicine on time, he documented every pain and complaint you had.
- he had already learnt the face you made when you were in any sort of pain—so he was right on top of it almost immediately.
- asking what hurt, what number of pain, how he could help, etc.
- he is an absolute sweetheart all of the time, but his softness was brought out by the entire experience.
- when the baby was born, or rather adopted—whichever way it happened—he cried. he cried a lot.
- he held the little one so gently, but so tightly in his arms
- he was insistent to not push gender roles onto the kiddos, but he did have two names picked out for a boy or a girl (or rather you picked them out and he agreed with them before you told him the reasoning)
- Willow for a girl and Spencer for a boy
- you didn't tell him until after the name was finalized that both options were after him
- he was so flustered and jokingly scolded you, but in reality, he loved it
- he felt so happy and so proud
- so joyful that you felt he was worthy enough to indirectly name a child after him, your child, his child.
- he was an absolute sweetie to the little one, and they took very quickly to him as well—immediately grasping onto his fingers as soon as they had the ability and cooing any time they saw him
- it melted his heart each and every time and it never stopped
- when the little one was older, they often took up the habit of grabbing at his hair or his glasses and sometimes his ears
- you found it to be the cutest thing ever and so did he he cried almost every time
- they absolutely adored their father, and if you didn't know better, you'd say they liked him better than you!
- when it came time to go back to work, to back to gigs and shows with Lovejoy
- Wilbur took off two weeks of work entirely beforehand, just to spend with you and the little one
- obviously he'd been on some sort of break since the baby was born/adopted/etc, but he still did things here and there, streamed a couple of times, went into the studio occasionally, etc
- but now that he was going to be physically gone a lot more, he knew he had to spend it wisely. and wisely did he spend it.
- most of the time was spent lying in bed with you on one side, him on the other and the baby lying on their back between you too.
- you'd both coo at them, tickle them, and talk to them
- oh did Wilbur love to sing to them, anything at all!
- he even came up with a few lullabies for them
- you'd watch from the door of the nursery as he'd rock them to sleep, humming a tune or singing the lyrics he came up just for them
- it killed you and totally didn't make you want another
- he was overall the sweetest father, and it became more evident when he had to leave for a while
- he'd call every morning, lunch and dinner as long as he didn't have anything
- and he would be so so sure that it was that time for you, it didn't matter what time it was for him as long as it was that time of day for you and his little baby
- he may have FaceTimed you and the baby during a few soundchecks, shh don't tell Dave!
- he would smile so big at the camera and wave at your little one
- he'd show them off to his band mates and they'd all coo at the little one, talking about how much alike they look like you and wilbur
- you personally thought they looked most like their father, his eyes, lips, ears. they might as well have been a spitting image of him! you looked at baby photos too
- Wilbur, on the other hand, begged to differ. he was very very insistent they looked just like you and nothing like him.
- it was most likely perception and bias that caused you both to think this way, but neither of you really cared all that much
- on days he couldn't call, for whatever reason, sometimes you'd play one of his old streams on the TV.
- the little one always responded to his voice and it seemed to calm them, usually into a sleep
- so just chatting streams and ycgma were go tos for sleepless nights lovejoys stuff kept them up and giggling
- when he was there for sleepless nights, he'd walk them around in his arms and talk about the most random things until they fell asleep
- he even offered to baby wear a lot more than most fathers did
- he just wanted to be close to them, and it always gave you a break, so he thought it'd be a double deal
- and it was! you'd get your nap, and so did the baby and Wilbur would just be gushing over his little one a few tears always shed
- he would sit with the baby on his leg when he was at his desk working, one arm snaked around them and his other on his mouse or keyboard
- at first, working was very cumbersome with the kiddo but he eventually found a work flow that worked and bouncing them on his knee helped keep things calm
- you were both hesitant to show your child on the internet and you didn't for a very long time, while people knew of them, it wasn't like photos were posted or they showed up on stream
- until, when the kiddo was about 2 or 3, they decided they missed their daddy and went running into the office when you weren't looking (I'll be using Willow as an example)
"Daddy!" Willow yelled or rather screamed out in that typical toddler way, running over to her dad's office chair.
She didn't know her father was live or working and she was much too young to understand it anyway—and the color drained from Wilbur's face when he realized. It was much too late now, chat was already spamming "Dadbur?!?" and "Baby Gold!!!"
Willow did her best to climb the side of her dad's chair before he sighed, a big smile on his face and he lifted her up by her armpits and placed her on his knee, first facing him so the camera didn't see.
"You wanna be on camera, sweetie?" He asked, realizing now how much trouble he may get in with you—but the giggle from his daughter and the smile on her face was so worth it, he didn't care.
"Yeah! Yeah!" And so he turned her around to face his PC and the camera.
"Wave to chat, lovebug!" He snaked his arm around her waist and waved with his own hand, his head dipped down to watch her. He had the softest, most loving smile on his face. He loved his little girl so so much, and he knew how it showed.
Willow waved and giggled, "Hi chat!!" and chat began spamming; "Baby Gold, hi!!" and "WILLOW!!"
It was the cutest thing he had ever seen.
And he desperately hoped he wouldn't get in too much trouble.
He spent the rest of the stream talking to chat, but mostly looking at his little girl as he conversed with her.
- it was over by then, and the little kiddo would make an appearance as much as you would allow
- and you were far from angry—you cried when you saw the clips—you were just frustrated he didn't go to you first yet you realized, he couldn't. your kid was much too like his father and much much too like you. stubborn and energetic.
- they only got more sassy and opinionated as they grew, and they most definitely became a spitting image of wilbur
- maybe #2 would look more like you
- oh, and don't let him wear plain tshirts unless you want more kids, that's all I'm saying
tags; @lillylvjy @lvrboysoot (if you want to be on a taglist thing, just send an ask and I'll add you!)
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iwachansfavbb · 6 months
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Doing Kenma's Makeup (drabble)
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You always told kenma how pretty he'd look with makeup and he finally relented one day and let you do as you please with his face. You sat him down in front of the vanity but couldn't get the angle right for the eyeliner for some reason. Suddenly kenma grabbed you and made you sit on his lap, you were stunned at first but giggled and realised it was the perfect spot for doing his eyeliner. His face was bright red as he blushed and you teased him bout how he didn't even need blush coz of how red he looked right now. You pecked him when you were done with his eyeliner and proceeded to apply mascara, blush and a nude lipstick that complemented him well along with some neutral eyeshadow that wasn't too bold on him and God did he look pretty. You couldn't stop yourself from grabbing his face and kissing him harshly. At first he was shocked but slowly eased into the kiss which soon turned into a make out session. When you finally broke for air,his lipstick was all smudged up. You giggled as you said that you ruined it but he bashfully admitted that he loved you doing his makeup if it gonna end up like this 🤭
A/N:- I've a kenma brainrot and I just couldn't help myself hehehe 🥴🤭🥰 THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE Y'ALL HAVE SHOWN THIS OMG😭😭🥺🥺 I TRULY DIDN'T EXPECT THIS AT ALL😭😭 I appreciate all the likes and reblogs <3 ME RN AAAH,TAKE ALL MY LOVE MWAH🥰💖
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starriegalaxy · 27 days
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He was a little rough in handling you while kissing </33
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You'll forgive him though, right? If the soft bonk at the end was any indication...
(I told y'all the brainrot was real and legitimately eating me till I sat down and drew it - I was originally gonna just let it be simple sketches but then my perfectionism just had to let itself be known so uh have a somewhat clean sketch instead... Good thing it didn't spiral into a full colour thing. I still have assignments to do....)
Anyways, Moon be upon y'all <333
[Edit : Listen to this playlist and most of the songs will describe this perfectly eheh]
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ghouljams · 4 months
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Gnnh. Mii brainrot intensifies.
I am in love with your Viking!AU, because I’ve always been fascinated by this civilisation. This is probably why I’ve been having thoughts about a völva!reader (völur for men), a prophetess in Germanic paganism, the kind of woman who was told to be feared and revered by both mortals and gods alike because of their inextricable link to Fate. Even Odin was said to consult them. They had a powerful role in politics, as well as in everything spiritual and magical in their society. From what I’ve read, women already had a high status in the societies of the North (I like this name, for some reason - it gives them a mystical and powerful aspect in my eyes), and those northern witches were thought to be descendants of the Jötun. Their stories are really interesting ; if you haven’t read about them already, I think you would really like them.
So, to come back to the Viking!AU, I could really see one of the guys with a völva as a darling. For some reason, I immediately picture Price or Ghost ; maybe because I am biased and love them so much, but probably also because of the fact that I could see them to be almost « worshipping » their darlings. It would probably be challenging for them to try and get the attention of such a powerful and mystical being, but I could see the end result to be worth all the efforts and frustration (and the whole « I’m so needy for her » part too).
Perhaps they would stumble upon her as she is praying the gods (Freyja, Odin and Sif were apparently the deities dedicated to the völva/völur, mainly the first one as she is deeply associated with all kinds of magic). It could be a beautiful, mesmerising scene filled with things bringing all 5 senses (and maybe more ?) to attention. Since those priestesses were threatened by the rise of Christianity, the warriors would probably feel the need to protect such a sacred being. I could see this character getting close to the Healer!reader, discussing herbs and magical recipes.
I hope I’m not being too overwhelming. I just love paganism and magic so much, everything about it is so interesting.
As always, lots of love on you Friend. You may not be too well, but know that I’m not really either, and that your writing always makes things better for my little head. Please, take care and stay safe <3
As usual y'all find ways to engage me special interests and also
Mii, you're putting Witch in the Viking au. You're giving me another opportunity to use my favorite special little girl who I am insanely brain rotten for. Obviously I'm going to put her with Price, obviously. Although I do love Ghost as a worshiper.
I will disclaimer, the viking au is not magical. There's no "real" magic that the völva!reader could perform, like Witch does. But from a religious standpoint I do fucking love it.
Price obviously is heading, captaining, the expedition Soap is on. Big scary viking man who sits around pissed because he's gotta be away from home and out from under the blessed eyes of his lovely völva. He's good at his job, he loves his job, loves his boys, but he misses the pretty priestess back home. Of course you never give him the time of day, too busy communing with the gods and doing your religious duties, managing politics and all that. You probably don't even notice him lingering around the temple, trying to find the right words to ask if you'd like to share a meal with him. Have you noticed that he always brings you something from his trips? Do you pet the soft furs he brings you and think of him? Do you run your fingers along the ridges of the shells he gives you? Do you know him? Do you want to?
Oof lots of pining in this au. The viking au is for pining.
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dodiebeeps · 9 months
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Talk Too Much
miguel o'hara x reader
summary: You've always been too much of a talker, as Miguel likes to, directly and indirectly, tell you. This is perhaps the one time where you really should've shut up.
wc: 1.9K
a/n: across the spiderverse is a total gem. no flaws, no complaints...i just didn't expect to get pulled into the orbit of one (1) Miguel O'Hara. and y'all fans didn't help at all! you guys made the brainrot even worse! anyways, i'm throwing this at whoever will read it, enjoy <3
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One second, you are thoughtlessly taunting Miguel, perched on one of the angular machines that power his elevating platform. There aren’t any chairs available, so you really have to make do. He’s vehement about making sure his back is facing you—which is fine. No matter how hard he tries, there’s no way he can ignore your voice. 
You talk about anything and everything, while he watches the holograms, moving them aside in his constant surveillance of the multiverse. 
He pretends like you’re not there. But you are, and you’re here because the ass doesn’t go looking for anyone unless they’re needed for a mission. Even then, he usually communicates through his gizmo, and hardly face-to-face.
He’s a recluse, the poor guy. 
Which is why he needs some good ol’ humor—at his expense, of course.
“Y’know, it’s a full-time job visiting you out of my very busy schedule, and reassuring everyone that you’re still alive and kicking.” 
Monotonely, without checking to see if you’re playing with his gadgets, Miguel retorts. “You’re wasting my time.” 
“There is no time to waste if you’re not giving me the TLC I so require, Miggy.” 
He swipes a hologram out of his sight. “Don’t call me that.” 
“The Blue Panther?” You smirk. 
“Cállate.” 
“What was the other one Gwen said…Dark Garfie—”
In the next second, Miguel has you cornered between him and a hard place, that being his strange machine. The squeak you let escape is almost embarrassing enough to consider jumping off a cliff without your web shooters. The orange glow of the holograms and monitors brightens his red eyes as he leans over you, and his lip curls, the barest hint of his fangs poking beneath.
Damn. You forgot how this guy practically has you head-over-heels, on your knees, head in the clouds—
“In case you’re too much of a tonta to understand, I want you to shut up. Or better yet, leave.” 
The next words to leave the deepest recesses of your brain somehow bypass your filter. “I’ll leave if you bite me.” 
The silence that follows has you internally screaming. You admit, you and Miguel had a tentative camaraderie, mostly one-sided you felt. The great thing is that he doesn’t often try to drive you away, unless you’re being particularly annoying that day. Having a friendship with Miguel takes a bit of work, you’ve learned, because you have to really put effort into seeking him out. Jess told you it’d take time.
And you’ve always been one to talk too much…be a little sassy…but you usually had yourself under control. 
From the corner of your eye, you can see how his hands tighten on the desk on either side of you. His eyes are wider by a smidge—which is a rare sight to see. 
His intake of breath draws you back to the present moment, where you said too much and may have gone too far. “...What?” 
His voice is grating in its deepness, doing nothing to stop the rapid pulsing of your heart. You’re so close to him that you swear even he can feel it. Ever so slowly, you pull your mask down your face, lips curling into a shaky smile. “I’ll be out of your hair, now.”
Without thinking much further than getting away, you aim your wrist upward. The web vibrates slightly a second later, meaning it’s safe to lift off. Except, there’s not much space for you to move away from Miguel without slamming right into him, which is something you’d really like to avoid. 
“Uh, could you move…your arm. So I can leave.” The aforementioned limb, with overlapping sinews of muscle you try your best not to disrespectfully stare at, doesn’t even twitch. 
He’s been quiet for so long, if he wasn’t literally looming over you, casting a blatant shadow, you would’ve thought he wasn’t there in the first place. You’re starting to think you might have ruined the months-long progress you’d made.
Finally, the hunk of a man exhales a ragged sigh. His carmine eyes flutter shut for a moment before the tension is right back on you. “No. Now, you aren’t leaving.” 
You watch as he raises the same arm toward your strand of web. A claw protracts from his index finger, hovering in the air for a moment before it brutally cuts through your escape. He watches you intently as he does so, meeting your gaze even behind the wide eyepatches of your mask. 
Speaking of the thing, you're too focused to see that his other hand has risen to brush against your chin. His fingers trail lightly over your skin—searching for the seam of your mask—slowly pulling it up when he does.
"Where's this coming from," he starts, his tone bored, though his very body tells you differently. The way he curls over you, limiting your space. How his hands, claws still out, twitch at your sides. The slight upturn of his lip. He's catering to you, in tune with you, whether he's aware of it or not.
Really, what more do you have to lose?
Amid the quiet whirring of the multiverse monitors, you admit a simple truth to Miguel.
"I've always wondered what it'd feel like. That's all."
He lifts a brow. You think it's decent news he has yet to cast you out. "That's all? Really?" 
With intense and purposeful focus, you redirect your gaze to one of Miguel’s holograms before you speak. "Been wondering about your claws, too."
And for the first time, Miguel almost seems…nervous, as he takes in your words. As nervous as a hulking man who is emotionally stunted can be. His gaze darts to what you think is the pattern of your suit, though what he's really focused on is in his head. 
The same hand he had used to flip up your mask lowers to your chin. You suck in a gasp as the sharp prick of his claw just lightly digs in. 
"You a fan of that?" He strokes over the skin there. 
It feels like being splashed with ice water. There is a danger that comes with Miguel, a feral force that shocks you with its unlikeness. 
There isn't another like him. Even with the thousands of other spiders, he remains a stark figure. 
You figure if there’s a good time to be honest, it’s now. “I’d be a liar if I said it wasn’t tickling a scratch—”
You inhale sharply as the claws of his other hand dig into the back of your shoulder. It’s a considerably sharper grip than the one pricking your chin. A low rumble fills the air, something that doesn’t fit the buzzing of the monitors—and you’re drawn to Miguel’s chest, the source of the noise. 
“Is it merely a scratch now?” He drawls, one corner of his lip higher than the other as he notes every wayward reaction. Miguel digs in deeper, enjoying the way you wince, but grin nonetheless. “Hmm?”
“Point taken,” you say, perking up as you realize your accidental pun. “Hey, get it? Poin—”
Miguel promptly squeezes your cheeks, brows lowered in a deadpan. “You’re lucky my webs can’t shut you up.”
Despite how goofy you must look, his grip doesn’t inhibit your speech. “So, does that mean I didn’t ruin things? Or are you just toying with me before my inevitable firing?”
“Oh, you definitely ruined things.” Miguel’s head cants slightly, his eyes darting over every part of your face. “But you’re not getting fired.” 
The spider releases your face, and you exhale, immediately feeling lighter. “Nice. Okay, I’ll be leaving now.”
“No.”
Your eyebrow raises. “No?” 
Miguel’s eyes grow darker. “You wanted a bite, didn’t you?”
Damn. He got you with that. Your face flushes with heat like an egg in the sun, something Miguel is quick to notice. Chuckling under his breath, he leans in closer. 
“Unless you’ve changed your mind, brat?” Miguel taunts right by your ear. 
You scoff, a physical release of tension. “No. I was just worried you’d be a little pussy and—”
Miguel tilts your head sharply, enough that you cut yourself off. His hand on your shoulder slides up to your neck, pulling down your suit. You openly shiver at the warm air as Miguel noses your neck, then kisses the skin softly.
Deep in your throat, a groan echoes out. Miguel responds by reeling back a little to meet your gaze as best he can. 
"Don't get too excited now…haven't even reached the best part yet." His voice is already raspy, and you send a curse to him under your breath. Miguel takes it in stride—and by that, you mean he returns back to the patch of neck he's claimed. 
He nibbles at it, making sure you can feel it every time he bites down. You're getting so hot, and it isn't helping that the spider finds your pulse point. A shock of electricity jolts down your spine when you feel a new heat, his tongue, laving over it, the equivalent of a doctor rubbing alcohol before the shot. 
He's relentless, holding you in place when you instinctively squirm away from the ticklish feeling. 
"Miguel," you giggle light-heartedly as he hums in answer. 
"Cállate ya. I'm trying to focus." He murmurs, squeezing your shoulder to prove his point. 
You do your best to stay still as his tongue runs over you, cat-like and gentle. Miguel rewards you by sliding his idle hand up your hair, to the back of your head, where he tilts it to the side. 
Miguel pauses, and you can feel his looming form breathe against yours. 
"Luciendo tan bonito así." He sighs, and before you can ask what he means, his fangs dig in, far deeper than his claws had. 
Your initial hiss bleeds into a moan as his fangs enter your bloodstream, painting the crimson river with his venom. It quickly runs cold, like sitting in the middle of a snowstorm, and then a second later a match is lit. You're so pleasantly warm, like someone's placed a blanket over you. 
The feeling in your limbs fade out, not dismissing complete control but rather your arms and legs are distant. You have to cross the ocean to even be able to twitch your fingers.
And the source, Miguel, keeps himself locked in. He too groans at the rich taste of your blood filling his mouth, of iron dancing on his tongue. He's had to bite a few before—none of them have tasted as sweet as yours. 
He's so tempted to suck, collect more of that goodness so he can memorize it, in case you don't allow him this opportunity again. 
But he doesn't, because as your arms struggle to climb up his suit, every rising inch of your fingers discovering a new, shifting muscle, he has a feeling this won't be the last time. 
He gives you enough venom to grant a slow paralysis, yet not enough to incapacitate you completely. Releasing his fangs from your skin, he licks at the crimson that rushes out, holding you in place until the area is clear. 
You send him a stupid smile as he leans away from you enough so you're able to see his face, and the way his tongue curls over his bloodied fangs.
"Didn't know you could be that nice," you murmur, leaning against him just so you can stay upright. Miguel would be a liar if he said the rush of satisfaction at your current inability to stand without him had no effect.
"You asked so prettily, I decided to just this once." Miguel coos.
"Can I prettily ask for a kiss too? …Please? Since we're already on the topic?" The spider huffs softly at you, lip quirked in a small smile as you stumble on your toes to get closer to his lips.
"Ten un poco de paciencia, cariño." Miguel whispers, settling his chin on your head. "When the venom has dulled a little, you can get all the kisses you want.
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lily-orchard · 7 days
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A (seemingly?) more reasonable crisism I've been seeing of Hazbin Hotel lately is that Vivzie should have moved the big fight against heaven down a season or so to better focus on Charlie redeeming Hell's inhabitants and develop the main cast a bit more. Just wanted to hear your thoughts on that.
The show is ABOUT the Hotel, so she's always going to be doing that part. So it doesn't really matter where you put the battle against Heaven. That criticism only holds water if you believe the battle mattered beyond being Charlie's point of failure.
Charlie views the fact that it came to having to fend off the extermination as a failure on her part, along with the fact that she believes Pentious, her only real client, is gone. So the battle ends, Charlie is in despair and then remotivates to work harder and better.
Fandom Brainrot means most people think a big fight is supposed to happen at the end as the final culmination of everyone's character arcs. And that's an attitude that screams "I watch too much shonen anime" (which, if you're over 16, is any).
You're operating on an idea of storytelling that is very rigid and wrong. Especially for a series operating on Streaming Penny Pinching Profit Margin time, meaning very few episodes and even less budget.
I know you guys are not going to like it, but 8 episodes is now the streaming standard. Hazbin Hotel is now suffering from the culmination of all the bullshit we normalized.
We all told ourselves "Shorter seasons means less filler, and that's automatically good" and gave every studio the green light to cut costs and wring every last possible penny out of a series.
I was banging against this drum for years and none of y'all listened to me.
ALSO: If she had delayed the battle, y'all would be complaining the finale wasn't "epic" enough.
REMEMBER: Medrano is Twitter's Main Character of the Day. The people complaining would complain no matter what she did.
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k4katsujin · 10 months
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i missed you so much sunshine! (hobie x reader)
aaaa brainrot fic go boom boom :D
inspired by the pavitr x hobie ship dynamic except it's hobie x reader :D
this is VERYYYY much full of fluff because i'm in little space and qnq gotta feed y'all /hj
so like yea :3 lil plot you had to go far from hobie for some reason as you're a very well-known journalist and he's,,,, well he's spiderman :>
lonely series part one || lonely series part two|| hobie headcanons
also hobie is a bit ooc ahhg
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you sighed in relief as you unlock the door of your apartment. it was some time since you saw your boyfriend any other way than on a screen, so it was no surprise the two of you ran into each other's arms as soon as you crossed the door.
it had been some time since you went on a date because of your respective job, which both were time consuming, but it only made every encounter more unique.
"i'm home!" you sing as you enter the room. you barely had the time to close the door your boyfriend ran to hug you.
"missed ya a whole bunch sunshine, glad you're finally home" hobie said as he shoved his head into your shoulders and covered your face in soft kisses.
he stepped back a bit from the hug and cupped your face.
"you're wonderful my love" he whispers, "i missed you so much."
"i know, i know" you say with a smirk. "i missed you too."
"oh! by the way! now that you're here i have a surprise for you!" he suddenly remembered
(is this too much dialogue? i never know i js try my best to make the scene as alive as possible 😭)
he held your hand as the two of you went walking down the streets.
you couldn't help but smile as he told you random anecdotes on his daily spiderman activities: the time he got in a fight with miguel, the time miles got in a fight with pavitr because he kept saying chai tea and so on...
hobie was... different with you. when you were with him in the haedquarters (hehe you being a journalist was actually a cover for you being a spiderperson :3) he seemed rough and careless, but when he was with you he was sweet,caring - quite the opposite you knew him as.
"aaand there!" he said as you reached a small shop. "after you!"
the buzzing sounds of what seemed tattoo machines greeted you as you entered the small building.
"is this some kind of piercing shop?" you ask in disbelief.
"yup" said your boyfriend. " i remember the time you said how much you wanted a septum piercing, so as soon as i knew you'd come back to town today i took an apointment! plus the person who makes the piercings is someone you know vey well"
hobie took you to a small room with dimmed colorful lights.
"pav??? what the fuck are you doing here??" you said before hugging your best friend. "i didnt know you worked here"
"ask your boyfriend, he's the one who invited me over!" pavitr said cheerfully.
ngl i'm lazy to write the piercing scene because that'd be uninteresting so like- the following scene is you and hobie going out of the piercer
"waaaa this is so pretty :OO" you say noticing your brand new septum piercing. " so you were just planning this along when you couldn't stay on the phone?" you remark amused.
as the two of you walked back home, you noticed something strange on your boyfriend's expression. you couldn't quite put your finger on it, but he sure looked happy.
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this all fank yew for reading :3 the end is a bit rushed im sorry 😭 i feel like adding stuff would be unuseful so :3
am in a v fluffy mood rn so expect more hobie hcs :3 (is fr about time i work on sharpening those nsfw writing skills but 👩🏻‍🦯)
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okay so apparently the post i made at 4am last night about the denholm family legacy and corresponding mental health implications blew up and now i'm receiving all sorts of screaming (/pos) in the tags. on a Related note, i've been brainrotting about p!scott's character intro sequence so much and now i Need to yell about all this somewhere or i'm gonna cry.
"Okay (×7), what do I need? Big day. BIG day. Okay. Okay, um, let's get the spyglass Dad got me and… Mum got me the new journal [to] write down all my discoveries."
the fact that the journal p!scott was using as a diary was meant for THIS. THIS was what it was meant to be used for. i would just like to point this out to y'all.
the EXPECTATIONS from the very start. good god it's so offhand of a comment but i am Stuck here. the Expectation of following in your family's footsteps. it's not just "do what We did" but also "do what you are Supposed to do".
"What else do I need? Ehm… outfit, check… oh, food! Um, Mum said… there we go, she'd made me five mutton wraps, okay, this will- I'm a little bit hungry… no, I shouldn't, I gotta save this; this has got to do me for a while until I can, like, find my own things. Ehm, what else do I need to take? It's Initiation Day, so everything starts here."
i don't have much of a comment on this. i really don't. only thing i can probably say is my headcanon of p!scott learning to cook from his mother.
"Um… the sword. Right. This is a family heirloom; it's served all the other Herons well, it'll serve me well, I'll definitely- I'm gonna discover so many things, I'm gonna make everyone proud, just like I was… born to do. Just like I was meant to do, 'cause I'm a Heron and that's- it's all I've ever been, and it's all I'm… was ever gonna be."
god the RESIGNATION. just. the resignation of having so much pressure put on you that it can crush rocks without using a machine. there's no way out of Being in the heron faction and doing what herons are Supposed to do. we see in the vods it's not that you Don't enjoy exploring and discovering things, but Man, would you prefer to do it on your own terms?
(what was going through your head when your brother turned up on the isles again, after you thought star dead and mourned star for a year? when star decided to join a Different faction from you and go against all you both have been taught?)
(you called the nightingales stars "new family" during the dipper quest. it's undeniable that you still love your brother and we all know that, but do you feel abandoned in that star has left you to join a new faction and have stars own life? do you feel that being in different factions means you Shouldn't have a place in stars life anymore, though you refuse to let your actions show it? do you envy star for having escaped the toxic environment where you both grew up in? that while you were born and saddled with all the expectations, star shouldn't have had to worry as much because your parents put all their eggs in a single basket, i.e. you?)
and the sword. the sword being a physical Reminder of all the baggage that comes with being raised by Internationally Famous parents who Expect you to do the same or risk their disappointment… something you either can't imagine or would rather not imagine?
"Ehm, hm… well, I'm- I guess this is everything. (sigh) Here we go. It's the life I always wanted, or at least, the life that I was given."
ohhhhh god the implication of being told this is the life you are Supposed to aspire to. and going along with it because you were raised to believe this is the life you Should have and internalizing it because you can barely even Imagine an alternative.
even when you ask yourself, "do you Really want to live like this?", do you hesitate to answer? it is just a yes/no question but does your answer Always have a "but" after it? because going against what you've been taught growing up is Not An Option For You, at least in your mind?
oh to think when someone asks, "how do you Live like this?", the response in your heart is "you don't." because in a toxic household, there is only survival and you Build Your Bed on surviving based on what you have been taught. because you can barely fathom a life where this Isn't the case.
"Alright, I'm gonna be late. Look out, world, Scott Denholm, #1 Heron, ready for action!"
this sounds like an assurance of confidence, yeah, but who Are you trying to convince? are you telling the world, or are you telling yourself? with all that you have already said, one might wonder which is truly the case.
(also, when cc!scott said that his character had "anxiety" from trying to live up to the expectations, was this supposed to mean "anxiety (emotion)" or "anxiety (disorder)"? because while the first one is very obvious, i would not be surprised if the second one happens to be the case as well.)
in summary: p!acho is a walking embodiment of trauma and drops it in Moments across many livestreams so you don't forget. p!scott is Also a walking embodiment of trauma but drops it in the first three minutes of the series and Never speaks of it again.
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h0rr0rwhor3 · 11 months
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golden gun
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masterlist
pairing: chamber x gn!reader
summary: mean chamber brainrot, that's all this is
warnings: gun play, mean chamber, teasing, bratty reader
a/n: i have been wanting to post this for a while now and i finally got the time to do so! i am finally on break, so i will be able to finish up the connor fic for y'all! thank y'all once again for the support! <3
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your breath stayed heavy as you felt the cold metal lower underneath your chin, no longer conscious of any bratty remarks that had brewed in your mind. the feeling of your head being tilted upwards only made you aware of the growing tightness in your throat, along with the dryness that had formed in your mouth.
"nothing left to say ma souris? tu as l'air d'etre sur le point de te manger."
"i already fucking told you that i don't understand the fuck your saying."
"but that makes it all more exciting, no? it seems to piss you off even more ma souris."
at this point, you could feel your face heat from frustration. he was not only very much right about your frustration, but it felt even more as he would talk down on you whenever he spoke the foreign language, the taunting accent only increasing your annoyance.
your mind was interrupted from any wandering thoughts when the barrel of his gun dragged up your jawline, the cold metal leaving goosebumps on your skin as it made a halt at the corner of your bone. your heart was pounding at this point. you knew it was loaded, and his finger dancing over the trigger did nothing to stop your nerves as he causally moved the barrel along your face. 
"could you stop playing with the fucking thing, you're scaring m-"
"i thought you liked the danger, no? for being so feisty ma souris, you look like you're about to cry."
"i'm. not."
"then keep quiet then. yeah?"
the tip of his gun moved towards one corner of your mouth, applying enough pressure to force a half smile onto your face, bringing a smirk onto chamber's face. without much thought, your hand moved towards his wrist, your fingers grazing over it lightly as the weapon moved towards your lips, pressing against them. furrowing your brows, you grew even more annoyed, but before you could even say anything, he gave your lips another push, a harsher one at that too.
"open for me."
"hm?!?!?!"
"open, ma souris."
hesitantly your lips parted, only for them to be spread open with a push, the barrel of his gun pushing down against your tongue and you finally grabbed his wrist, your mind hesitant to make any other movement. 
your face was flushed at this point, in humiliation, confusion, and frustration. you haven’t even realized you were refusing the sight of his eyes until you looked up at him, an emotionless expression on his face. 
he was thinking, concentrating even, but he wasn't letting that affect his expressions whatsoever. another push against your tongue granted his wrist another squeeze. drool starting to stain the corners of your mouth as he finally let out a sound. 
"stick it out, your tongue."
at this point, you were in no place to make any snarky remarks or faces. you were nervous. being in such a humiliating situation made you more and more aware of this. 
looking back up at chamber, you hesitantly made eye contact, your grip on his wrist slightly tightening.
"i’m not going to shoot this bullet through your head if that's what you’re worried about, you think i'd get my gun so filthy if i was going to do so?"
with that being said, your grip on his wrist loosened, lowering itself onto his forearm as you grasped the fabric of his button-up. your eyes darted back towards the gun as you hesitantly allowed your mouth to open wider, your tongue pushing itself farther down along the barrel.
for a second you could swear you had seen his hands tense, the muscles in his forearm tightening for a second as his breath became heavier. 
if you weren’t already red enough, you were even more now. drool dripping down your tongue and staining the barrel of his gun, the golden design becoming glossy with the liquid. you could feel your hands tremble lightly, the humiliating position bringing an agonizing heat upon your body as you lightly panted against the gun. 
this seemed to make something snap inside of chamber as he gave your tongue a harsh push of the barrel, a light gag coming out of your mouth. 
the expression you had formed was amazing. drool staining your mouth and tongue. one of your eyes closed from the push. eyebrows roughly furrowed into a pout. face flushed. as if any of the expensive art he has could recreate such a beautiful expression.
it was not until you had opened your eye, that you then looked up at the taller male. his expression burning into your face as his eyes ate up your every move. 
"you look much cuter like this, feisty one. i almost don't care about how much you're dirtying my gun right now. but you seem to be liking this even more. ma sale souris."
you could feel tears threaten to come out of your eyes, the gagging feeling of the gun in your mouth pushed your mind into a drunkening submission as you felt a whimper leave your mouth, only for the cold metal to leave abruptly with the sound. 
you grew frustrated with the action, wiping your mouth and standing up straight as you looked up at the male confused, only for chamber to give you a small smile.
"i was already being generous. don't think i was going to give you more without having you crawl back to me, ma souris.”
jesus you fucking hated this guy.
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myusernameisstolen · 3 months
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With the Year Ending, I Just Wanted to Remind Y'all I've Kept Writing the Skaian Pantheon
and that since i started in march, I've reached over 200,000 words! I'm going to write this forever, so hopefully one day I'll breach one million!
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For those not among the unfortunately select few not to have heard of this, the Skaian Pantheon is my self-indulgent Homestuck fan project - an anthology series with every (hopefully) self-contained story set in the same timeline, with a deceptively simple premise:
Instead of skipping forward five thousands years and forcing their creations to form civilization without them, the young gods accept the responsibility that has been handed to them, and settle together in the same first city founded by their carapacian followers to assist in the building of a new world. These are the many little stories that make up that grand journey.
Please, check it out. It's very detailed, loaded with worldbuilding and speculative biology and just oh-so-juicy angst and hurt/comfort. This is quite possibly the best thing i've ever written. God, that's sad. But you know what would be even sadder? if i got to one million words without ever going semi-viral. I beg of you, homestuck fans, to make my life worthwhile.
here's some of the art i have made to go with a few of the stories under the cut, in case it piques your interest:
Included in what I'm told is my best work, John Is Fine:
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A couple sneak peeks at future updates! ;)
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and some fanart i've made of my own timeline, bc i have brainrot
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In conclusion, pls read? 🥺
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