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gamermattsgf · 2 months

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Sour diesel p.2 // dealer Chris

Warnings: shower sex / clitoral stimulation / praise kink / drug dealer Chris x reader / size kink / unprotected sex / vertical prone position (I literally have no idea what else to call this lol) / piercing kink / thoughts of exhibitionism / slight hair pulling

Summary: still feeling the strong effects of the diesel you had just previously smoked, chris now wants a taste, and doesn’t mind pulling you into the shower with him to do so...

Author’s notes: ew why did it take me so long to write this and decide what I actually wanted to do with it lmao. Just a quick disclaimer, if you can’t really remember what happened in the first one I recommend going back to re-read it because this is a continuation of what happens straight after the first one ends. Also lowkey- why does this one get so sappy and soft at the end lol? I should really start writing tooth rots soon too. So anyways… get out ya sour diesel playlists and enjoy ;).

“If you overthinkin’, I get high with you, if you ever sinkin’, I go down with you, all I need, my baby and a cigarette” - CIGARETTES, Amir Obe

. ݁𖦹₊ ⊹

‘shit that is strong stuff…’

You laugh at Chris’ throwaway comment, hyperaware of the way your whole entire body tingles itself into a horny hot-sweat. The thick smell of weed on both of your clothes and the redness of your eyes certainly don’t help in cementing the fact that you are both high out of your fucking minds right now.

Chris feeds his bottom lip into his mouth and tugs on the central silver lip ring he has hooked into his plump flesh.

The sight alone makes your toes curl. It’s as if every single move he makes drags you deeper into a violet haze of ecstasy until you’re so far away from clarity that you can barely see it anymore.

Chris’ soft chest rises and falls as his cock lies there in front of you two, bare, and needing a lot more attention.

Releasing his moist lip from his teeth, it recoils backwards slightly and you watch his lip ring glint hypnotically in the light of the ceiling fan above him.

They look dewy, a peachy pink cream colour… perfect for sucking on.

Your drug dealer’s frosty irises surround themselves with the bloodshot white of his eyes, and the redness almost exemplifies the popping blue colour of them.

His pupils dilate, and he seems to be deep in thought.

You shift uncomfortably on your knees, trying to press your aching heat down onto one of the balls of your feet to suppress its unbearable throb.

Suddenly Chris sighs.

His voice is deep and raspy, almost as if he’s just woken up from a deep slumber. You love it when you two link up to smoke weed together because his voice always drops down to this gorgeous register and it makes your folds slick beneath your underwear every single time.

Unbeknownst to Chris of course.

He’ll just sit there, knowing exactly what he’s doing, yet not knowing anything at all as he balances the blunt in his mouth, blowing out leisurely smoke rings and pumping his system full of relaxant narcotics. Perhaps sprawled out on his back across your bed if at your place or out on his deck in one of his chairs at his…

His voice always ends up the same though, gritty and an octave lower than usual.

‘Wanna take a shower with me, ma?’ He questions casually, as if saying something like this to you is rather a normal occurrence. It elicits a tight tension within your muscles, and you struggle to not grind yourself down onto the ball of your foot.

You swallow thickly at his request, and Chris’ lips twitch up into a little lop-sided smirk. He wants to see you naked. So fucking bad. And he’s not ashamed to admit it. He thinks about it a lot. More than he probably should.

He also just likes to think about you a lot.

Usually when he does his deals with other clients. He’ll always hand over his weed, or his bag of pills and then he’ll think about how much he misses your face.

Then when he’s stretching out his hand and expectantly raising his eyebrows for his money he’ll think about how much he hates letting you pay for your drugs.

He knows he shouldn’t, but he fucking loves spoiling you by giving you free rein of his most expensive strains.

Just a moment of your time is money enough for him.

And then whenever he slinks away from his deals with his black hood up, he leafes through his money and counts it… thinking about how much he can’t wait to see a text from you again.

Sometimes he purposely gives you smaller volumes of weed just so that you run out faster and have to come guiltily crawling back to see him again for more.

With that being said, he takes advantage of this moment, flicking his eyes down to the subtle rock of your hips that rut forward once and then retreat back to their original resting position.

You squirm about at the thought of his shower.

‘Um… yes please’ you clear your throat and mumble politely, your cheeks turning pink in embarrassment. And it’s almost unbelievable to think that you had the thickness of his cock stuffed all the way down your throat moments ago because of how you were looking at him now.

Chris snorts at this nervous reaction, a gruff and teasing giggle slipping past his lips whilst he tilts his head patronisingly. ‘What? You all shy now or somethin’?’.

You avert your eyes as he pokes fun at you, a hint of his Boston accent catching in the back of his throat as he smiles at your endearing behaviour.

You shake your head and muscle up the nerves to look up at him through your eyelashes. You sigh. ‘Sorry it’s just uhh… well- I’m just a little shocked at myself that’s all’.

Commenting on your previously greedy actions, it’s as if you can still feel the soft throbbing of Chris’ thickness stroking against the walls of your mouth. The taste of his cum haunts the base of your throat, and the memory of saliva seeping from your mouth to dribble around his pink head permeates your vision.

The look of the strings of spit connecting his tip to your lips as soon as you had pulled away from him almost become too much for you to bear.

Suddenly, you crack a laugh, and Chris is so fucking high that he finds it within himself to join in, even though what you had said wasn’t really that funny.

After recovering, Chris quickly silences and retreats back to looking at you lustily, his eyes glistening with that primal need to have you for himself, but equally to have you wailing and crying out his name with his windows cracked wide open.

Because he wants passing people to know, to know what’s going on in the bathroom of his apartment. And he wants them to be jealous. Jealous of the way that it’s him who’s pounding into you, him whose skin is slapping against yours, and him whose back is getting clawed at by your nails until it’s red raw.

‘I kinda wanna kiss you…’ he randomly muses to you. And you too, fall silent, and find yourself gravitating towards him naturally. He does the same, his eyes once or twice obsessively looking down to your lips. They hold a begging kind of gaze that almost has you rolling about the floor for mercy.

‘Do it then’ you breathe daringly, both of you two then coming in to bridge the gap. Chris presses his lips into yours, and then immediately you feel the artificial metal ring of his piercing against your own bare skin.

He squeezes his lips closed and traps your bottom one in between his two.

In one solid motion he makes you shiver by smoothly sliding his tongue across the skin of your lip, before wetly detaching himself and doing the exact same thing to your top one. He utters a breathy moan, the cold air on his prick making it throb and harden once again whilst you let him kiss you.

It’s not long before it escalates, and the taste of your saliva has Chris hooked. So much so that he lurches forward a little more to grab both sides of your face aggressively with his hands.

He keeps you held there, the large expanse of them moist with sweating arousal as your mouths drop open even further into the now very messy kiss.

Now it’s just your tongues flattening against each other’s and licking from side to side, spit whipping about and coating the corners of your mouths when sometimes each of you miss your mark.

‘Shower? Please?’ Chris breathlessly pants, his desperate tone almost making him seem like he’s transitioned into heat as his hands slide down your neck, then your tits, only to land on the fabric of your shirt. He boyishly twists it into his knuckles, and impatiently tugs you towards him.

‘O-okay… shower’ you acknowledge him, and then pull away.

Your wobbly feet rise to a stand from off of his scuffed green couch and only then do you realise just how wet you are after your thighs close and rub together.

Chris looks up at you with doe eyes, before grunting and standing up too, trying to pull his grey sweats and boxers up simultaneously.

He messily tries to tuck his weeping cock into his pants, but heaves an annoyed mumble when it takes longer than expected, before he is pushing himself back into you once he’s successful.

He leans in with his mouth already agape hungrily. The fever and determination he has only makes your horniness worse, still in an absolutely trance on your diesel high.

Your tongues sloppily lick each other’s, and Chris moans a quick ‘Mhh, so pretty baby’ into your lips with his eyes feathered closed in enjoyment.

He walks you backwards one or two steps, before humming again in thought and stopping. He then decides to not bother with trying to get you to walk to his bathroom, and so pulls away from your lips to kiss his teeth.

He shuffles back slightly and you eye him quizzically before he’s reaching his palms downwards and turning them up to his ceiling.

They twitch slightly when he purrs ‘up you come baby’, clearly wanting you to leap your thighs into the cups of them so that he can carry you.

You smile slightly at this, and smooth your hands over his shoulders for support before hopping into his hold. He groans a little at the force exerted upon his arms but then quickly flexes them and easily hitches your legs around his thick hips.

‘Atta girl’ he praises you softly before sponging a wet kiss onto the collarbone that sits right in front of the reach of his lips.

He then starts to walk you both through the corridor of his apartment to his bathroom.

On your way there he has to step over piles of his stuff that he’s lazily thrown onto his floor, like a heap of empty Pepsi cans and also his beloved pink North Face puffer jacket that he usually does his deals in.

It lays in a crumpled heap next to his mess of playing card. Presumably he must have had people round playing black jack earlier and just hasn’t cleaned them up yet.

After a bit of turning your head to the side and playfully biting the helix of his ear, he gets you to the door of his bathroom and victoriously kicks it open with his foot.

Twisting to the side, he squeezes both of you past the doorframe and looks up at you with lusting eyes before he is using his foot again to force the door shut behind him. It slams and traps you two into Chris damp-smelling bathroom, the scent of his cologne combatting the mould of the old walls and intoxicating your senses.

You forget how fucking good Chris smells underneath all of that weed.

He suddenly releases his grip on you, and you drop to the floor, your feet padding onto his white bathmat.

He pecks you on the lips once, before twisting around to turn his attention to the shower. He reaches into it and twists the dial which makes water come spurting out of the head. Whilst doing this you simultaneously take off your top and unbutton your jeans.

You slide them down your dewy legs as Chris reaches his palm in to test the temperature of the water before looking back at you, his stomach flipping in excitement at the sight of you standing there in your bra and underwear.

‘Is the shower ready?’ You speak up timidly, standing squished and self consciously with your arms folded over your stomach as you look at the man who has always been on your mind outside of deals, and not just because of the drugs.

He hums. ‘Hmm, not yet, wanna make it nice for you…’.

He turns back around and leans out of the shower.

Shaking his wet hand, a couple of droplets fall to the floor before he is taking off his zip up and letting it plonk to the bathmat. ‘Still feelin’ shy ma?’ He comments with a smirk on his face at the fact that you haven’t yet taken off your underwear.

You laugh and shake your head, his silly attitude managing to ease the tension. ‘Mhh, a little bit’.

Sometimes you get extra nervy when you’re high. It isn’t necessarily Chris’ fault that you feel this way, it’s just the kind of influence the drug has on you depending on what kind of strain you smoke.

His white shirt peels off next, before both of his sweats and his boxers come off.

‘That’s ok, I’d prefer to be the one taking off your underwear anyway…’ he rambles, the sentiment of his want travelling straight to your clothed core and making it burn with heat.

He stands there in his naked vulnerability and by now the shower has heated up enough to billow steam into the room and fog up the mirror in front of his sink.

‘Can I?’ He speaks gently and raises his eyebrows whilst gesturing to your white panties, decorated with a little brown teddy bear logo on the front of them. As if Chris couldn’t adore you more, your taste in panties makes him feel warm and fuzzy, the effects of the sour diesel only making his attraction to you worse.

You nod and Chris takes that as his chance to step forward and feed his thumbs into the soft cotton fabric bunched around your hips.

To distract you whilst he pulls them down, he starts to kiss you again, and you find yourself sucking on his lip ring whilst your panties drop to your ankles.

Chris’ arms then snake around your back, both pulling you towards him and enabling him to fumble around with the strap to your bra. After successfully unclipping it, he whimpers in victory before pulling away from you.

‘Ladies first’ he jokingly gestures and grasps onto one of your hands like a gentleman whilst he leads you into the shower.

He steps in after you and shuts the glass door, both of you getting soaked in the scalding water as it trickles from the shower head and onto your hair. Chris is quick to make sure that you’re directly under the stream of water so that you can absorb all of the warmth, and he looks at you through water droplet-stained eyelashes.

You smile and blush up at him whilst he gingerly trails his fingertip up the endless waterfalls of water slipping down your curves.

He then starts to draw aimless patterns on your skin, like an artist ravishing his muse.

He threads one of his hands through the thick sopping wet mop of your hair, strands clumping together as he drags his fingertips through it and looks at it in fascination.

Your lips crash against each others once more after a single look passed between you two.

Now it’s almost as if you literally can’t breathe without a constant taste of each other’s flesh.

A nicotine addiction, but for bodies.

After kissing slowly, for a while, Chris’ cock begins to ache.

He detaches himself, now the two of you fully soaking wet and the steam residing between your bodies making its way down your throats. The atmosphere is hot, choking, lustful.

Manoeuvring around you, your slickness throbs at the sight of his arm reaching up to unhook the shower head from its hold. Fat water droplet gather at the bottom of the strands of his long hair, and they drip down to the floor at every movement he makes.

‘Your turn baby…’ he lilts cheekily into your ear after using his other free arm to wrap around your front and pull you into his chest. Using the hand gripping the shower head, he teasingly turns the pressure up until the force of the water is hammering out.

He kisses your cheek, and you feel the grin on his face as you struggle not to crumple into his hold. Your knees feel like buckling, and the ache between your legs is almost strong enough to make you feel dizzy.

‘Chris I-’ you stutter quietly, but he doesn’t give you a chance to finish before he’s quickly moving the burst of water and concentrating it upon your clit.

Your throat echos a cry as you arch your back, your head falling into the crook of his shoulder as he licks his tongue over the tepid skin of your throat.

‘Yeah, you like that don’t you…’ he mumbles cockily against your flesh, the hold he has against the shower head unrelenting, even when trying to squirm away from it.

He keeps a firm lock over your body, and the waves of sensitivity it brings you almost makes you pass out. You whine and pant, slinging your arms behind your head and clawing at Chris’ neck.

You feed your shaking fingertips into his hair to yank on it, practically begging for mercy.

‘Feels so good’ you whimper, and Chris nudges your head to envelop your mouth into his once again. This way, he swallows your noises of extreme euphoria for himself.

Your wet bodies slide together, steaming rising from in between your legs as Chris starts to control the water’s flow against your core by moving the shower head in a circular motion.

‘Open up a bit wider for me baby’ he instructs you soothingly, and uses one of his kneecaps to knock into the back of yours, commanding you to spread your thighs a little farther.

You feverishly nod with an ‘o-ok’ before your wobbling legs are stepping further out and the vibrating pleasure is increasing the more Chris gains access to your clit.

You feel his hard cock brushing in between your ass, and it throbs wildly, Chris no doubt aching to bend you over… which he does, unexpectedly.

He presses your left cheek against the wall and your hands come flying up to slap against the cold tiles whilst he forces your back into an arch.

‘Fuck baby’ you mumble, drunk off of the feeling of Chris touching you in the best possible way.

‘Give it to me momma… wanna hear how good I fuck you… make it loud’.

Chris is smug when he presses his tip into your weepy hole, one of his hands coming up to also lean against the tiles above your head, which gives him the right kind of support. His other hand still works the shower head down at your core, and you let out a strangled moan after he fits himself inside of you.

He stretches you out from behind, and you whine a little in pain at his thickness. ‘Ahh Chris… l-little slower please’ you hiss as you suck your teeth, the rough skin of his cock throbbing inside of you and spreading your walls apart. Your mouth is dropped open and your focus is on breathing as soon as you say this, a line of drool accidentally falling from out of one side of your mouth.

It splatters heavily to the floor next to your foot.

Chris sees this slimy mess, and smirks at how much he’s fucking you up, his ego stroking itself as he slowly pushes his hips forward as per your request.

‘Fuck, look at you getting all hot and bothered… my cock really that big huh?’ He patronises you whilst watching your back rise and fall laboriously at having to take in deep stuttering breaths.

You moan a ‘yes’, feathering your eyes shut just for a second to regain your composure.

Chris grins devilishly, mumbling back a stern but simple ‘take it.’ In response.

So you do, and wait until he fully bottoms out to whine for him to move again.

Chris obeys, and his wet hips snap against your ass, causing a resounding clap sound to cacophony across the expanse of his bathroom with the water in his shower still running and its stream battering quickly against your heat.

Tears almost draw within your eyes as you fully soak in how well he’s treating you, fucking you up from both the front and behind.

He groans lowly in a humongous effort to try and hold off his orgasm, just so that you can have yours first, because he realises that you deserve it a lot more than he does after letting him thrust his cock up into your mouth.

‘That good baby? I feel nice?’ He questions, but of course he already knows you love it because of the way you’re almost pathetically crying for him to go faster.

‘Make me cum please- please make me cum’ your fucked-out voice drawls, your fingernails clawing at the tiles of his shower for traction as his fat tip nudges against the most sensitive part of your core with every thrust he makes.

With the shower head still firmly held against your clit, he helps you build up your organs and after a couple more thrusts, he finally finishes you off.

He drops the still running hose to the floor in favour of gripping onto you and making sure that you don’t fall, his hips continuously going but slowing their roll as he helps you calm down from your high.

After your cunt gets too sensitive to withstand anymore of his hard prick, you tap out, and Chris pulls out, panting in tiredness and stickily jerking himself the rest of the way to his own eventual orgasm.

He squirts his cum rapidly onto your back, and you shiver at the feeling of its warm consistency, twisting your body to try and get a look at it erotically dripping down your ass cheeks.

Both of you heave, trying to catch your breaths in the heat of the shower, which proves to be an even more difficult task as soon as Chris turns you back around to face him.

‘C’mere… want more kisses’ he babyishly mumbles, requesting for your lips softly on his once again with a pretty pout on his moony face.

He whimpers happily after you give in, laughing a little at his afterglow submissiveness before pressing small peppering kisses around the corners of his mouth.

You kiss each other once more, and this time instead of you biting against his piercing, he bites against your bottom lip, your tongues lazily twisting in the swelter of the shower.

You guess that the hot water probably washed away a good half of the drug, because you didn’t feel as high anymore.

You stay there, kissing for a while until Chris decides that he wants to rinse you off.

He passes the shower head that had once been firmly focused on stimulating your clit around your body to wash any cum and sweat away, before announcing that he also wanted to wash your hair for you.

You almost melt at the sentiment and patiently stand there whilst he massages a dollop of shampoo into the roots of your hair, sudsing it up and smiling whilst he combs his long fingers through your strands.

After gently whispering ‘okay, now lean back for me…’, he passes the stream of water over your hair and bites his lip in concentration, wanting to make sure that the experience is just as soothing for you as it is for him.

You almost forget that Chris is just your drug dealer as he helps you out of the shower and grabs one of his white towels from his radiated hand rail.

Wrapping you up in one, he makes sure that you’re warm and snuggly before tying a spare one around his own waist.

Water droplets still drip from his chest as he grabs a small hand towel to place on top of your head. He then gently rubs your hair and tries to dry it as much as he can.

You both giggle at how silly you look in the mirror with the towel messily strewn across your head, which is exemplified by Chris deciding to make you laugh even further by vigorously shaking his wet hair out like a dog.

After you’re dry, he helps you back into your clothes, before playfully patting your ass as you both exit his bathroom, Chris shutting the door behind you two.

You suddenly swallow nervously and get anxious once again.

You just had sex with your dealer… twice.

What the fuck does that mean for your relationship? Are you going to have to block him and never speak to him again? Are you going to have to pretend like none of this ever happened?

You sure hope not.

As all of these worrying thoughts swirl about your mind like a raging storm, Chris suddenly comes in like a ray of sunshine and scares the clouds away with a silly sounding ‘hey, wanna play video games with me? I got a really cool new one over the weekend’.

As if he hadn’t just railed the shit out of you moments earlier.

You feel like this is Chris’ own special way of telling you not to worry about it, you can both think about the consequences later… so you smile back at him, returning to the living room where his old green couch lies before plopping down onto it.

‘Turning down a chance to beat you in Mario Kart like I always do? Never… gimme a remote and you’re on!’

. ݁𖦹₊ ⊹

Author’s notes p.2: I want to make out with drug dealer!Chris to the song Percolator by SZA so bad. Bye- this is so specific but MUCH needed. Thank you all for waiting on the much anticipated arrival of Sour diesel part 2, I hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I did and likewise, I should be getting to work on cherry popper real soon! Ask, and request anything as always… until next time babies :)

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lelengerine · 24 days

Text

now playing... "distractions"

pairing | student part timer!jaemin x student!reader

synopsis | a single cup of coffee actually has you waiting for more.

genre | more 3am fluff thoughts, y/n has down bad syndrome, mentions of food, no specific prns are used (lmk if i missed anything!)

wc | 0.9k

notes | here’s a little something for my bday while my other jaem fic is still in progress <3 i also have a recent addiction to writing down bad!reader rn so… that explains this a lot 😄 likes and feedbacks are always appreciated!

m.list

you sit at the corner table of the quaint cafe near campus, an array of colorful textbooks splayed open in front of you, but your attention keeps drifting away from your studies, and you think you can pinpoint the exact reason why.

na jaemin, a face you’ve seen bearing smiles more often than not from behind the register as he takes down your regular order of coffee during your visits. the two of you shared a couple of classes together, but neither of you have actually tried striking up a conversation with the other — instead, sticking to the comfort of your respective friend groups.

you were never distracted in class because of him. you never even looked his way once! okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but your point still stands…

today, however, everything seems different. each time he passes by your table to distribute orders, your gaze turns almost against your own will, mesmerized by the effortless charm he exudes and his gentle movements as he serves drinks for other patrons with the brightest smile on his face.

this was exactly why you couldn’t get anything done, god!

“come on, focus,” you chide yourself internally, patting your face a couple of times as you try shaking off the allure of your classmate, but every time you finally to return to your textbooks, you see jaemin smiling at you from the corner of your eye, and suddenly all your efforts go poof in an instant with the sound effects and all.

frankly, the lack of progress you've made has begun to bother you more than you care to admit. you can’t afford to slack off like this today, not when you have a final exam coming up that’s worth 80% of your entire grade, and so you do what any other person would — pack your books up in defeat and prepare to return home in hopes of focusing better — but jaemin has other plans in mind as he approaches your table with a small coffee cup in hand, a poorly drawn smiley face doodled onto its side.

“y/n, right?” he says with a playful grin, “i couldn't help but notice you've been here a while. thought you might need a little pick-me-up for your study session.”

you look up in surprise, not expecting him to address you directly — this was the first time the two of you were speaking to each other, after all. a rush of excitement floods your senses, and for a moment, you're at a loss for words. “oh, thank you jaemin,” you manage to sputter out despite your puzzled state, a faint surge of heat creeping onto your cheeks. “did i… look that tired for you to offer me this?”

jaemin’s chuckles at your words, eyes sparkling. “maybe, but a part of me just wished for you to stay here longer.”

he noticed you were getting ready to leave? moreover, he noticed and decided to make you a cup of coffee on the house?

you take the drink from him, feeling a tinge of elation at his cheeky answer. “you must like having me around then.” you reply teasingly.

“i could say the same about you with the amount of times i've caught you staring.” jaemin replies with a raised brow, crossing his arms together and pretending as if you were in big trouble. no way did he catch you... you made sure to be lowkey and everything!

you gawk at his response before mimicking his accusatory stance, “then... that means you were staring back to catch me stealing glances in the first place. you aren’t as innocent as you think you are.”

“caught me all red-handed.” he raises his hands in the air but he doesn’t hold an ounce of shame, a feathery chuckle escaping him. “you don’t usually leave this early though, what’s the rush today?”

“i can’t concentrate on my notes because of a certain someone.” you huff in faux frustration, hoping he’d take the jest.

“really now?” jaemin laughs, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leans closer, his voice tinged with teasing amusement. “if that’s the case, wait for me after my shift, it ends in around ten minutes anyways.”

you raise an eyebrow, intrigued by his suggestion. “why should i?” you question out, trying to maintain a casual tone despite the flutter of intrigue in your chest. “so you can distract me even more?”

his grin only grows wider after hearing you admit to how you’ve been so affected by him today, “so i can explain the topics to you, silly. you’re studying for the statistics exam, right?”

your eyes widen in surprise, caught off guard by his astute observation. “how do you—”

“we share the class, remember?” he interrupts, his confidence evident as he leans in, voice low and enticing. “so, what do you say?”

you hesitate for a moment, the thought of spending more time with jaemin felt both thrilling and nerve-wracking because you're not sure whether you’d pay attention- correction, you’re not sure if you’d pay attention to your studies, or forget it all once more to admire his features, but ultimately, the prospect of getting help with your studies outweighs the reservations you harbor against it.

“right… okay then. i’ll wait.” you finally agree, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you watch jaemin’s expression light up in response.

“good, i’ll be back quick!” he exclaims, though his feet fail his words as he hasn’t even taken a single step back yet.

“dummy, go back behind the counter before your manager tells you off!” you reply with a quiet snort, and he rushes back to his position as per your command.

guess you have a reason to stay here for a bit longer now.

#nct fluff #nct dream fluff #jaemin #jaemin fluff #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct dream imagines #nct dream drabbles

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mypoisonedvine · 1 year

Text

𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬 | dark!jim hopper x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | smoking with eddie was supposed to help you relax... instead, it forced you to decide how far you're willing to go to keep your record clean.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 3.7k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | dubcon/noncon smut (oral m receiving and creampie), slight innocence kink, significant age gap, semi-public sex, kinda mean hopper, handcuffs, coercion, bargaining, abuse of power, very slight/ambiguous eddie x reader if you squint, thicc pre-season 4 hopper the way god intended, slight angst

Eddie did have a tendency to get a little paranoid during a smoke session— a side effect of the product— but maybe you should’ve listened to him this time.

“Do you hear that?” he hissed as you handed the rolled paper back to him. “Dude, there’s someone out there!"

“Who would be in the woods, this far from town, this late at night?” you rolled your eyes.

Well, the answer to that question is two-fold: stoners, and someone who’s looking for them.

A flashlight suddenly appeared from the trees, and your eyes went wide.

"Shit!" Eddie yelped, jumping up and tossing the joint— even though it was quite too late for that— and starting to run around like a chicken with its head cut off for somewhere to go. But he couldn't exactly hide behind a tree, because this wasn't a cartoon, and getting back in the car wouldn't really get him anywhere.

So, he ended up basically circling the van and slamming directly into Chief Hopper who looked even more pissed than he had when you first spotted him.

"Uh, hey— funny running into you here, Mr. Chief, sir," Eddie joked as you sighed in disappointment and irritation at his idiocy.

"Get back over there, dummy," Hopper groaned as he shoved Eddie aside, tossing the guy into you— you would've both fallen over if you hadn't basically caught him, and your friend looked pretty disoriented by the whole thing.

The chief flicked off his flashlight; it wasn’t actually really necessary, with how bright the moon was tonight, but your eyes had to adjust to the dark all over again.

"Two kids smokin' dope in the woods," Hopper observed. "Munson, this is far from our first conversation— but you—"

He ran his gaze over you as you leaned back against the back of the van, and you felt conflicted about your body's response to his sizing-up.

"I expected better from you."

He reached for the cuffs at his belt, quickly grabbing Eddie by the elbow and turning him around with an unceremonious thud against the van.

"H-hey, not so rough," Eddie chuckled thinly, "it's my first time."

You rolled your eyes; did he always have to make stupid jokes like that? "It is most certainly not, Munson," Hopper returned firmly. "And I'm sure the judge will take that into account before he goes easy on you again. You might wanna practice that 'not so rough' line again before you end up in jail, kid."

Eddie winced, and not from the tightness of the cuffs. He was finally taking this seriously— finally realizing he was looking at more than community service or a fine this time.

Hopper stepped up to you next, but you didn't put up nearly as much of a fight— and he was more gentle with you, far more… he even seemed to linger for a moment as he held your wrist.

It was incredibly subtle, but it was all it took for you to know you had a chance. A chance you were just desperate enough to take.

"Why?" you asked suddenly, heart already racing.

"Hm?"

"Why did you expect better from me?"

There was a silent moment as Hopper considered that question, and Eddie gave you a confused look.

"I heard you were a good girl," Hopper eventually answered.

You smirked a bit, turning around to face the chief with a feigned look of confidence. "Well, you heard wrong."

"V'never heard of you gettin' in this much trouble before," he replied. "Not with the law, at least."

"That's ‘cause I don't do bad things to get into trouble, sir," you added pointedly, looking up at him and seeing the look in his eyes change a bit. "I do bad things to get out of trouble."

You didn't really notice him getting closer until you felt it— felt that gap close as his body brushed against yours, and fuck he was tall 'cause you had to crane your neck all the way back to keep your eyes on his face (though they did briefly dart down to the badge on his chest).

"You know, I never saw you smoke," he noticed, voice lowering. "Maybe you were just an innocent bystander. You kinda have that look about you— innocent…"

He ran his finger over your jaw, until he was lifting your chin a little too forcefully.

"I like that," he added.

Your stomach dropped, but you couldn't back away— he had you pressed up against the van, every part of you was at his mercy now, even your freedom.

"Don't fucking touch her, pig," Eddie growled.

"Eddie, shut up," you snapped at him, not wanting him to dig the hole any deeper— or blow your chances of getting him out of it.

“Why don’t you get in the van and mind your own business, son,” Hopper encouraged, stepping away from you to hold up the key for Eddie’s cuff’s teasingly. “Think you can do that?”

Eddie sneered at first, looking away. “Ed, please,” you said, a little softer, and he sighed. Hopper approached Eddie, who looked like he was barely containing his rage and disgust, as the chief unlocked his cuffs less than a minute after he’d put them on.

“Old creep…” Eddie muttered under his breath when he was freed, rubbing his wrists nervously, before he looked at you. “Are you seriously gonna—?”

"Eddie," you said sternly. "Get. in. the van."

He groaned but obeyed, walking past you both with a grimace, hopping up in the driver's seat and shutting the door behind him.

"That your boyfriend?" Hopper asked when you were (sort of) alone.

You sighed. "Just a friend," you insisted.

"Hm," he replied, smirking a little. "Bet he wants you."

"What makes you think that?"

"'Cause who wouldn't?" he purred. "Body like this…"

You shivered as his hand ran down your back, slowing down as it slid over the curve of your ass.

"A boy that age would have no idea what to do around a body like yours, honey," Hopper added, humming as he brought his hand back up. "Need a real man to take care of all this."

"Didn't think this was about you taking care of me, Hop," you returned, raising an eyebrow as you looked up at him with his lip between his teeth. "Thought it was about working my way out of these cuffs."

He grinned at you, though it wasn't exactly a friendly smile. "No, baby— the cuffs are staying on."

As he pulled you into him, you felt a firm bulge rub against your hip; you gasped a little, fighting the urge to pull away, and tilted your head back as he leaned down to kiss your neck. "Eddie, too," you whispered. "If we do this, no charges for Eddie."

Hopper grunted disapprovingly, but you looked up with him with your best ‘please, Daddy’ eyes and bit your lip slightly. It wasn't quite enough for him, though. "What's in it for me if I get your friend off?"

"Whatever you want," you blurted out before you really considered what that might entail— you just couldn't let Eddie go to jail.

He purred and grabbed your ass tighter. "You drive a hard bargain, honey. But I can't promise anything until you show me what you can do."

Figuring what that likely meant, you slid down until you were on your knees, keeping your eyes up— on him. It would’ve been harder to keep your balance with your hands behind your back if it weren’t for the van’s bumper right behind you to lean on. “Y’gonna get it out for me?” you asked him expectantly, and he smirked at you a bit as he reached for his belt.

There was something about the way he sighed as he did it, about the way he had to reach under his thick belly to do this, about the way his heavy belt clinked as he opened it… you told yourself this was just about the bargain, but you knew there was more to it than that, on some level.

His cock was only half-hard when he pulled it out of his jeans, but already so thick— you were salivating already, but pretty fucking nervous, too. It was pretty overwhelming to be confronted with what you were about to do in such an obvious way: it all gets a lot more real when there’s a big fucking cock in your face.

Not wanting to make him wait anymore, you leaned forward and took the tip into your mouth, coating it in your spit as you suckled gently… at first.

He hummed a little— you honestly barely heard it— and stiffened a bit more in your mouth. Soon enough, it was so big that you had to keep your jaw open wide to fit it, and soreness was already starting to set in.

When you shut your eyes, it was a little easier; you were a little more confident, and you tightened your hands into fists behind your back to stop them from shaking. Leaning forward more, you took him deeper until his belly bumped against your forehead. Why did that make your thighs clench together?

His fingers combed over your hair, not quite guiding your head yet but certainly encouraging you to go on. "Yeah, fuck, that's good— that's really fucking good, keep sucking, baby…" he mumbled, voice thick and sweet like syrup. The deeper you took him, the more talkative he got; and when you took him all the way to the base, with your nose buried in a patch of curly hair, he moaned louder than ever.

"Shit," he hissed, grabbing the back of your head when you tried to pull away. "N-no, stay down, need to feel that throat a little longer, fuuuuck…"

You fought harder to pull back, getting dizzy as your coughs and sputters did nothing to give you air. Only when tears ran down your cheeks and spots filled your vision did he let go, giving you a chance to break away and gasp for air.

He was chuckling lowly as you coughed, smiling down at you proudly even though you weren't much of a sight right now— face swollen and wet with tears, red eyes (even worse than before), on your knees in the leaves and dirt…

"Stand up," he ordered, and you gave him a confused look as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

"Huh?"

"Did I stutter?"

"Don't you wanna finish?"

He smiled wider. "That's cute— you were gonna swallow it, too, right? And you thought that would be enough?"

You started to feel particularly stupid as he yanked you up to your feet. There was a long, tense silence as he started touching you again— running his hands slowly over your waist, your neck, your hips…

He started to slowly push your shirt up, but his eyes stayed trained on your face; you must have looked, for once, as nervous as you felt.

He hummed a little as he got your shirt high enough and tugged your bra down; your nipples hardened right away from the chilly breeze, and he toyed with them for a second with his thumbs before groping your chest more confidently with his whole hands— god, they were big, and strong, just like the rest of him.

After unbuttoning your jeans for you, he turned you around quickly and pressed himself against your backside with a purr, slipping a hand down the front of your pants and into your panties. “Mm,” he emphasized, cupping you and holding you tightly; still cuffed, the position made your hands grab onto his thighs through his pants.

He groaned as his fingers slid between your lips, and you let out a quiet whimper of your own.

"Oh, fuck— look how wet you are, sweetie," he cooed beside your ear, starting to rub circles around your clit a bit too roughly. "You like sucking cock in the woods? Or is it the cuffs?"

You only whimpered a little as he held you tighter.

"Or," he continued, speaking even closer to your ear until his mustache tickled your skin, "is it whoring yourself for a man twice your age? Is that what gets you off, honey?"

He didn't wait too long for you to answer— he must've known you weren't going to— before he pulled his hand out of your pants and yanked the denim down. You felt cold and weird and stupid with your bare ass out in the woods; you swallowed down a lump in your throat when you heard Hop shoving his pants lower, too. "Do you have a condom?" you asked shakily.

"You think I bring condoms on patrol? What kind of cop do you think I am?"

My pants are around my thighs, Hop, I don't think you're exactly clean…

"No, baby, we don't need one anyways," he decided, rubbing his head around your flexing hole with a sigh. "God, it's so wet…"

That was his last warning, if you can call it that, before pushing inside; and you accidentally grabbed onto his shirt when your fingers made fists, the sting of pain making your toes curl inside your shoes, too. You bit your lip so you wouldn’t be too loud, though… you remembered, for a second, that Eddie would hear if you weren’t careful. That made guilt churn your stomach even more than the Chief’s hand coming down to spank your ass all of a sudden.

“Damn, s’tight,” he chuckled darkly, groaning as he picked up his pace and held your hips steady. “Sweet fuckin’ pussy… y’like it, sweetie, y’like being fucked?”

Swallowing, you nodded. “Y-yeah,” you panted softly.

“Louder, honey.”

“Yeah, I like it,” you replied, a little more confident but not exactly ready to shout it out, either. “Feels good…"

"Bet you wanna cream all over me, huh, baby?"

Well, that would certainly make this more enjoyable— but you didn't need to, really; the pain of the stretch had finally faded and honestly, you were surprised it happened so quickly. With how thick he was, you were prepared to struggle longer, but if anything your body was giving in, encouraging him, making your back arch deeper and your walls pulse whenever he filled you to the brim.

His hands reached around to cup your tits, and he moaned louder as he felt you up while he fucked you. When his fingers tweaked your nipples— not too hard, but still a startle— you tensed up inside; and he noticed. “Oh, they’re sensitive, hm? Sweet girl…”

Of course, he just did it repeatedly, and more aggressively, until your legs were shaking and you let out a pathetic whine. “Chief, c’mon…” you pleaded nervously.

“Chief? Don’t need to be so formal, honey,” he laughed, leaning in a little closer. “Just call me Jim, okay?”

You really didn’t wanna do that, and you were having a hard time getting much of anything out now anyways: he’d started fucking you harder, deeper, a lot faster… your head was spinning. At first you’d really just wanted to get this over with, but right now, you never wanted it to stop. It was so difficult to keep your thoughts straight, you almost told him that, before noticing what a stupid thing that would be to say—

“Fuck, are you close?” he taunted.

“Don’t stop!” you blurted out. “Please don’t stop, fuck…”

He chuckled proudly, and yep, it was just as stupid a thing to say as you thought it would be; he sounded way too cocky now, and even the way he moved his hips seemed to be more… gloating, than before, if that’s possible. “Little slut,” he spat, though the insult sounded just as much like a compliment.

“Fuck,” you whispered again.

“I get it, y’know— you’re young and you need a little rebellion,” he said, and in your current state it really didn’t make any sense. “But reefer’s not worth the trouble. Why don’t you just let me fuck you when you’re feeling naughty?”

Right now, that didn’t seem like too bad of an idea; you already got the sense this may not be the last time this happened, even if he didn’t catch you smoking pot again. That feeling was already swelling up inside you, and your throat was dry from breathing heavily— and nearly sore from moaning, even though you’d been trying to fight it. Your eyes kept rolling back in your head even when they were shut, which they usually were until he brushed your hair aside with his hand and told you to look back at him.

And damn, he was a sight: that look in his eyes was unforgettable, the strain on his face as he drove himself into you over and over. The curve of his cock stretched you in a way you’d never really felt before, his grip on you was so aggressive and his pace was overwhelming. He was right, it turns out, when he said that thing before about Eddie and how you needed a ‘real man’ instead. You protested to that term, but compared to guys your age, this was entirely different— and better. And supremely fucked up. And the best dirty deal you’d ever made.

“I-I’m close,” you finally admitted.

“I know,” he mumbled, “go ahead, baby— just come for me.”

It was the way he said it that shook you so much, unexpectedly gentle after so much gruff mocking; it still took you a few more minutes, but you ended up obeying his command pretty easily.

He felt it when you came, groaning through a smile and praising you in a low voice. You could even hear it, the sticky sound as your cunt soaked him, and he snarled as he looked down at it— he grabbed your ass and pulled it out of the way so he could watch his cock fill your hole. “God, that’s perfect,” he announced, “you’re so fucking cute.”

Not really the adjective I was expecting after I came on your dick, but I guess I’ll take it.

“Wanna make you do it again,” he admitted, making you swallow nervously, “but we don’t have much more time… and I’m so goddamn close, fuck, you’re just so tight, honey…”

You whimpered and bit your lip, your post-orgasm haze working overtime to keep your shame at bay— but the clarity was due any second now, and it was hard to ignore who this was when he kept moaning louder and louder, sighing your name, touching you and running his hand down your back and promising to fill you with his load—

Wait, he’s gonna do what?

"Pull out," you whimpered. "Fuck— pull out…"

He only held on tighter to your hips, driving into you deeper as his head fell back in a grunt.

"Hop, pull out!" you yelped, only for a thick, clammy hand to cover your mouth as he bent down behind you— his forehead rested on the back of your shoulder, each hot breath fanning over your skin.

"God, sorry, I'm sorry," he panted, "need this— fuck, so good…"

You struggled harder, but all your strength was useless compared to him holding you there, keeping you exactly how he wanted you.

"Ah, fuck— you don't need to fight it, baby, s'gonna be so good… your pussy's milking me, c'mon, it's what she wants— she wants to be filled up, I can tell. You want it, baby? You want me to come? Fuck I'm so close…"

He grunted a few more times before he suddenly stopped— his hips pressed forward until he couldn’t go possibly any deeper, then even just a little more after that; he held you tight as a tear ran down over his hand on your face. Relaxing with a heavy exhale, his grip loosened on you slightly but you were far too weak to fight it now, so you just stayed there: bent over, still crying slightly, with a panting and heavy man just behind you (and inside you) catching his breath.

“Fuck,” he said again, pulling out quickly and letting you go; you didn’t realize how weak your legs were until you had to hold onto the van to stay up, awkwardly lowering your bare, sore bottom onto the small lip of the back bumper so you wouldn’t just fall to the ground.

You were pretty out of it for a minute; the smell of cigarette smoke brought you back to reality, and you looked at Hopper, having a smoke as he looked out into the woods. He caught you staring, and raised an eyebrow. “Y’want one?” he offered, and you nodded.

Fishing the pack out of his pocket, he shook out a cigarette for you, holding it for you to lean forward and capture with your lips. After lighting it for you, he watched you take a long drag and sigh.

“I’ll take you out of the cuffs in a minute,” he promised, but you’d already kind of forgotten about them.

He did, though; help you out of them, that is, and you were able to get your clothes back in order on your own after that. You wondered if you should say something, or if he should. What was there to say? Thanks for the bribe? Nice cock? Pleasure doing business with you?

So, he didn’t say anything, and neither did you. Until just as he was starting to walk away, and you noticed his flashlight had fallen from his belt onto the ground.

“Wait,” you said, leaning down to grab it, and when you stood up to hand it back to him, you saw something strange in his expression. You wondered, for a second, if he’d been hoping for more when you said that. “You dropped this.”

He took the flashlight and nodded at you. “Thanks,” he said, and you took the last drag of your lended cigarette as you nodded; watching him leave, you dropped the butt to the ground and snuffed it out with your shoe.

For some reason, you waited a little longer after he left to get back in the van’s passenger side. Eddie didn’t look at you when you got in, and you didn’t say anything; he just started the van silently and began the drive back to the trailer park. You were halfway there when you decided you should let him know, “you’re not going to jail.”

“I know,” he replied.

#jim hopper x reader #hopper x reader #jim hopper smut #dark!hopper smut #jim hopper dark fic #stranger things reader insert #stranger things smut

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jujutsutrash · 4 months

Text

(the best of a) simple thing

sort of a follow up to (don't look) but I want it, tho more of a prequel Pairing: Yuta x reader Word count: 2723 Warning: some slight mentions of nsfw stuff but mostly ok

When you walked into his apartment - and effectively into his life - Yuta never imagined he’d become so hooked on you. You had seemed like a bad company, like clear trouble. But you’d found him through a mutual friend, so he let it slide. He needed a roommate, and the worst that could happen would be having to kick you out. Or so he thought.

He never thought he’d become obsessed with you.

Well, obsessed is a strong word. Heavily infatuated could do. You plagued his mind constantly, and just your presence was enough to have him red in the face. Yuta thought that it was just a sexual thing, over time it would fade. It didn’t. And sharing an apartment with you, getting to know you, only made it worse. On one hand he’d be jerking off furiously to the thought of you, on the other he’d be aching to do the most domestic type of shit.

One thing he found himself desiring pretty quickly was to see you dressed in one of his clothes. It was hot, yeah, but it also felt cute as fuck. Sure, he didn’t tower over you, but his oversized shirts would still look bigger than your frame. To Yuta, the thought alone was enough to have his heart leaping - and his cock hardening - in less than a second.

Though, he never thought that would actually happen. Until it did. The first time he got a chance to see you in one of his clothes was on a rare day that he was going from college straight to your shared apartment. It was a day off, and he had plans for it, until it started raining out of the nothing while he was still in class. When it came time to leave, the rain had turned heavy, water falling from the sky with rage and bringing a cold wind with it. Yuta considered himself lucky for always having an umbrella lost somewhere in his bag.

To his surprise, when he came to the arched entrance of the college building, he saw you, looking into the rainy street with a desolate expression. It was rare for him to see you at campus, the buildings where the visual arts students had their classes couldn’t be further from his own. Slowly, he walked up to you, coming to stand by your side as he watched your expression.

“You forgot you your umbrella again?”

You almost jumped by his side, and Yuta couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from his chest. He muttered a sorry when you looked back at him, eyes burning with anger. Even that was cute. Looking at you now, he also couldn’t help noticing how you had your hands rubbing your arms, body closing in tight on itself. You were dressed in just a tshirt and jeans, clearly not expecting to get cold any time soon.

“Yeah,” you respond with a pout, “this is ridiculous, it was sunny when I left home!”

“The weather changes a lot around this time of the year,” he adds with a shrug, pulling the umbrella from inside his backpack. “I can give you a ride if you want?”

“Don’t you have to go to the office?”

“Nah, got a day off today, I was heading home anyway,” Yuta says with a smile, watching as your face lights up at the offer, his heart warming up at the sight.

“Oh, shit, Yuta, thank you so much. You are a lifesaver,” you smile, and he can feel the blush that’s creeping its way on his face.

“Don’t need to thank me, really, I’m just glad to help,” he responds in a gentle tone, voice growing more concerned as he looks over you again. “Are you cold?”

“A little, I really wasn’t expecting this.”

“Well, I,” he pauses, unsure if he should stay what he is thinking before he decides to go for it anyway. “I can give you my hoodie, so you don’t have to walk back while cold.”

Yuta looks over you, hand tugging at the fabric of the white hoodie he was wearing. He is pretty sure he is blushing, but he can’t focus on that right now. On one hand, you were cold, and he really just wanted to help. But on the other, well he is pretty sure that if you accept, he is gonna have the image of you in that hoodie burned into his mind forever.

“Oh, you don’t need to do that, you are gonna feel cold,” you shake your head, chuckling as you wave one hand in front of your face.

“I’m not that cold anyway, it’s fine really,” he insists, looking into your eyes with a warm smile.

You hesitate for a second, but then you nod, muttering a thanks when he places his backpack and umbrella on the floor. Yuta reaches a hand to his back, fingers digging into the soft fabric of his hoodie as he starts pulling it off. When he wrangles himself off of it, he passes it to you with one hand, the other fighting to readjust his hair.

He watches you smile and put it on, his heart skipping a beat at the sight. The shoulders of the hoodie seem a little loose on your frame, the end of the sleeves just about reaching your fingers. Yuta wasn’t that much bigger than you, but yeah, this was good enough. The walk to your apartment would be short, but he caught himself wondering if maybe he’d be lucky, and by the end of it his hoodie would smell like you.

When you look back up at him, he quickly averts your eyes, busying himself with picking up his backpack and umbrella, getting ready to leave. You two walk and chat, shoulders touching as you share the protection of Yuta’s old umbrella. He is almost sad when the walk ends. The minute he is inside his room, hoodie back in his hands, he brings the piece of clothing to his nose. Under the faint notes of his cologne, he finds it, the sweet smell of your body lotion. He’d for sure be sleeping with that hoodie tonight.

The second time Yuta got a chance to see you wearing one of his clothes was when you’d taken him with you to that bar you loved so much - Devilock, you called it. From the outside the place looked like a shady, hole in the wall type of bar, from the inside it looked just better enough to be sanitary. Truth be told, Yuta had never been one to frequent those places. Between the loud noise and his aversion for social situations, it felt like too much. Yet, he couldn’t say no when you invited him.

The punkest thing he could muster from his wardrobe was a beaten up plaid button up thrown open over a black shirt and some dark jeans. Compared to you, he was a normie, but that was the best he could do. Though, your presence made him feel a little less awkward when you entered the place. The bar wasn’t utterly packed, but it was full, and that was already enough stress, so Yuta would take whatever little solace he could get.

Still, there was a silver lining to this all - aside from the amount of people in the bar counter, forcing you two to sit side by side, shoulders pressed against each other. No, the silver lining was that he got to watch you, free and at ease in your own element, dancing in a skin tight shirt and jeans shorts. Yuta could endure the awkwardness he felt from not knowing how to dance if he got to see you like that.

Shit, you were too hot, and as you both returned to the bar he still couldn’t stop staring, even as you downed another drink, droplets of the cocktail spilling past your lip and down your neck. Maybe the alcohol helped you not notice his wondering eyes, but the bartender sure caught his stares. From behind the counter, the tall, long haired man looked like serious trouble, especially as his black locks shadowed those fox eyes when he leaned menacingly forward. Okay, that was enough to make Yuta look away, for now. Near the end of the night, however, something else happened that had butterflies working up a hurricane in his stomach.

“Yuta!”

When you cried out for him, he could already recognize something off in your voice. You’d both found your way to the arcade machines in the bar at that point, and Yuta felt a little more in his territory this way. Though, you had gone to get a drink for yourself, and it was really off putting to have you return with worry in your voice.

“Hey,” Yuta responded, calling out your name as he turned around. “Everything ok?”

“Ah, mostly,” you chuckled. “But I think my shirt snagged in someone’ jacket and one of the straps torn,” you gave another awkward chuckle and Yuta’s eyes went straight from your own to the hand tightening the knot holding your shirt strap together - the other hand clutching a beer.

“Shit,” he stuttered, torn between the desire to help and the desire to just see the thing fall. “People should really be more careful, they could have hurt you.”

“It’s ok, really, it’s just an inconvenience,” you laughed softly, placing your beer on top of the arcade machine you were. “Tho’, I think I might have to inconvenience you now.”

“Y-yes, whatever you need,” it was almost shameful how fast Yuta responded, he knew it, but he just couldn’t help but jump at the idea of you needing him in any way.

“Could you lend me your shirt? I’m not sure how safe this knot is,” you chuckled.

Yuta froze for a moment at your words, voice muffled by the song playing. Though, he quickly snapped out of it, eager to see you in his shirt. He knew he should be more worried about you, he knew he shouldn’t be thinking as he was at that moment, but there was just something about seeing you in his clothes. Shit, he’d refuse to wash that shirt for the next few days.

Taking out the shirt in a rush as he nodded frantically, Yuta almost knocked down the beer bottle on top of the arcade machine, getting one arm pathetically stuck in the sleeve as he tugged it free. When he handed you the shirt, you thanked him, swiftly putting it on and buttoning it up. You looked gorgeous in it - as you did in absolutely anything, but there was a special charm to this particular sight. Fuck, he could feel his cock hardening already.

The rest of the night goes by uneventfully - although not exactly easily. Yuta had to spend the whole time fighting his own desires and the erection that threatened to sprung up and make things a lot more awkward. When you both finally get back home and return the shirt to his hands, he almost feels desolated. Almost, because the chance to sleep with a piece of clothing that smells like you again is enough to have him in high spirits.

The third time Yuta gets to see you in one of his clothes is in a more permanent situation. One he admits he lucked out on, a bold strike of fortune he will be forever thankful for. After you first moved in, you requested to share the space of his large office - the only spare room in the apartment. He agreed, obviously, he couldn’t say no to you, so he just let you set up your easel and materials in the office, but in the beginning it was awkward. Overtime, though, he grew comfortable in your presence - and learned to watch you paint from the occasional reflections on his monitor.

Besides, Yuta couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy the sight of you working on your pieces. Although you could be a powerful distraction, sitting in front of your easel, wearing only small shorts and an old shirt - even this casual, you were gorgeous. At times, it was an exercise in self control, one he didn’t always win, forcing Yuta to take breaks from his work just to leave the room. Still, he wasn’t really complaining.

One day he catches you frowning while looking at the washing machine, browns pulled together and shoulders slumped. When he asks you what's wrong, you pull a torn up garment from inside the machine - from the gray color and paint stains he recognizes it as the remains of your old work shirt. As you mumble about needing to retire another t-shirt to put in its place, an idea crosses Yuta’s mind.

He sees a chance, and he has to take it - or at least try to, while he is feeling brave enough for the task. Sure, if this goes right, you are going to become even more of a distraction than you already are, but fuck it if he cares right now. So as you sigh in frustration, he is quick to offer you to take one of his t-shirts, claiming he has an old one he was gonna start using as pajamas anyway. When you seem hesitant, he doesn't give you time, stepping into his room fast and bringing you a white oversized t-shirt that he places in your hands, insisting you take it.

“Yuta,” he glances at you through the reflection as you call for him, seeing you turn from the easel towards him, “you sure I can use this? It feels so nice, the paint is just gonna destroy it.”

Yuta feels beyond lucky that on the very next day, he'd already gotten to see you wearing his shirt. Though, it's posing a slight inconvenience as now he's having to try and answer you without fully turning his chair around - lest you notice something you shouldn't. He turns just enough to glance at you, body still turned to his screens, anything below the hips mostly covered by the blessed shadow of his desk.

“I told you it's fine. Is it comfortable? If you like it, you can just keep it,” he shrugs, trying to act nonchalant about the whole thing. “This shirt is old, and it was nothing special to begin with.”

He lies straight through his teeth, the plain white shirt had been an expensive one - you'd probably just never know because he'd removed the tags long ago, they always pinched his skin. But he didn't mind that, not one bit, no price could pay for the sight before him. The oversized t-shirt went all the way down to just below your ass, covering a third of your thighs. Better yet, it almost swallowed your shorts, and from certain angles, it looked like you were wearing just the t-shirt. Wearing just his t-shirt. Yeah, he didn't mind the price tag.

You look into his eyes for a long second - a stare down Yuta is driven to win, despite the growing discomfort for every moment he had to spend holding his gaze into yours. But it was for a good cause, at least from the point of view of his own selfish desires. When you hum and look down, he holds his breath in anticipation.

“Ah, it is really comfortable,” you trail off, glancing at him again before shrugging, Yuta finally letting go of the breath he was holding. “Guess if you say so, thanks Yuta, you are a lifesaver!”

You cheerfully thank him with a bright smile and a sweet chuckle, stretching your arms above your head before going back to work. Yuta can feel his face burning, and he can only hope it doesn't look as red as it feels. You are too sweet, too cute - and it's not helping at all the sick images running in the back of his mind. Oh, how he wanted to have you sprawled on his bed wearing only that shirt, oh the things he wanted to do.

Fuck, now he could feel his pants straining already. Just as he imagined, this was worse than before - though, it was still a price worth paying to see you in his shirt almost every day. If he could have it his way, you'd only wear his clothes around the apartment anyway.

#yuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu #yuta x reader #jjk x reader

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cerastes · 3 months

Note

I picked up Qiubai from the current banner and know absolutely nothing about her. She worth leveling and if so is there anything I should know about her skills/talents and how best to use them?

Qiubai is one of those units whose banner was very untimely, smack between Lin and Chongyue's limited banner, and the Monster Hunter collab limited banner (not to mention that afterwards, there was Absolute Beast Ines to account for, and a bit farther down the road, fan favorite Muelsyse and Ho'olheyak), so a lot of people decided to skip her, making her one of the rarer Operators.

But I am not a lot of people, and my main reason is "She's Fucking Cool, Your Honor".

I think she's a damn good Operator worth investing in. The main criticism levied against her, besides the unfortunate timing of her banner, is that she's Not Thorns, which is like looking at a successful and highly skilled physicist and saying that he's shit because he's not Albert Einstein. The actual criticism I would levy against her, as someone that uses her all the time, is that she does require a bit of presence of mind to use her due to the nature of her Talents requiring procs if she's not supported appropriately, and her S3 having a rather long downtime.

So, Talents (E2 no pots): First is whenever she attacks enemies affected by Slow or Bind, she deals 40% of her Attack as extra Arts damage. This is a good extra bit of juice you can squeeze out of every attack, as well as a means to deal with high Defense powerhouses. Second is that attacks have a 20% chance to Bind for 1.5 seconds. Attacks that proc this 20% apply Bind first and then count the attack, meaning that every time she procs her Second talent, her first Talent is also activated. This is true, to my knowledge, to all Operators with similar effects (such as enemies receiving extra damage when Stunned in her range; the Stunning hit benefits from this extra damage instead of having to follow up to start benefiting). Her attack interval is 1.3, meaning that whenever she procs Talent 2, she'll usually get two free Talent 1 procs in, "usually" because sometimes the enemy is actually at the edge of her range or just wandered off, and the projectile doesn't land in time.

S1 is your least used Skill, probably, but it's not useless: It's Bind centric, and Binds the enemy for 2.5 (3 M3; M3 numbers in parenthesis from hereon) seconds, followed by a small AoE explosion of 240% (300%) Arts damage once it expires. It is Automatic and Attack Charged on a low limit of 5 SP (4 SP) so it reliably gets fired off. It's honestly not a bad skill, it's just that her S2 and S3 exist.

S2 changes her range into a single file 4 tiles forward and immediately slashes all these tiles to deal 240% (300%) Arts damage and enemies in this slashed ground are Slowed throughout the duration, 5 seconds. QB gets an steroid of +90% (+140%) Attack for these 5 seconds, and when the skill expired, the initial slash explodes once again for 240% (300%) Physical damage. The slash itself CANNOT hit air units, but QB's regular attack can, be wary of this. This Skill is your go-to for general use when you just need to kill regular enemies and elites, since it gives her phenomenal true AoE capabilities, a strong steroid, and since enemies are Slowed in the slashed area, she will proc Talent 1 every time while Skill is active (against ground units, that is). All of this on a very good timer of 12 SP (10 SP), making this skill's strength its ability to reliable, consistently use it: It's ALWAYS ready when you need it, and on longer fights against very strong enemies that you need to stall for a bit, you can use it several times.

S3 changes her range to one extra side tile forward, changes damage type entirely to Arts, Talent 1 is augmented by 1.5x (2x), gives QB +45% (+55%) Attack, Lord ranged attack penalty is negated, QB attacks 2 extra targets, so 3 total per attack, and each attack animation she does gives her 13+ ASPD for the duration of the skill, stacking up to 6 (8) times. This is QB's burst skill to deal with numerous strong enemies or even just one strong enemy, to be honest. She'll become a machine gun of Arts damage, and since she's attacking so fast, she'll likely keep proccing Talent 2 repeatedly, meaning, even more damage from Talent 1, which in itself also gets augmented. The sole weakness of this skill is that it exists on a 55 SP charge, unlike her very fast S1 and S2. It lasts 30 seconds. I recommend Mastering this skill first because its gains are actually very good, due to the Attack bonus and the Talent 1 augmentation coming into play for a very drastic increase in damage.

S2 is true AoE so you use it to deal with many enemies, S3 is Arts burst so you use it to delete strong enemies. You want to pair QB up with people that can Slow or Bind enemies so you can constantly enjoy Talent 1 bonuses instead of relying on Talent 2 procs. Her Best Match is Suzuran S3 for QB's S3, since that'll just make her become absurdly devastating, but for less bursty options (Suzuran's S3 also has long downtime), you can use Angelina S2, Podenco S2, Ethan, Dorothy S2, and other such Decel Binders and Operators with consistent ability to Slow or Bind. KEEP IN MIND: It needs to be the status effect known as Slow, capitalized, not just any slow effect! Meaning, Ch'en the Holungday, for example, who spreads movement speed slowing areas with her Skills, DOES NOT combo with QB for Talent 1 purposes. It needs to be the status known as Slow (which reduces enemy movement speed by 80%).

QB's main strengths are the ability to vary damage types, synergize well with support units to hose out great damage, have reliable true AoE that can be spammed, and good burst when that is necessary, further improved by synergizing well with a popular and strong Operator (Suzuran). QB's main drawbacks are that her S3 exists on rather long downtime, and that against highly Resistant enemies, her Skills will not fare particularly well, as they all have an Arts damage component to them (you'll mainly want to use S2 here, since her steroid affects her Phys damage output and the expiration explosion is Phys).

Overall, a very fun and strong Operator! I recommend investing in her, yeah.

#itsmearia #arknights #qiubai

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freedomfireflies · 2 years

Note

Okay, requesting here 🥰

On a break, it’s been a few weeks and they miss each other. Rough make up sex with a really soft aftercare? 🤞🏻

This is so fucking wrong.

You know it’s wrong before he’s even shut the door. Know it as you watch him flip the lock. Know it as you watch him turn to you.

You know it.

And yet, knowing does nothing to stop you from bridging the gap between your bodies as you reach for his jaw.

You straighten onto your tiptoes to level the height difference, shoving your fingers through the soft, pullable curls, and kiss him.

Slip your tongue past his lips as you nearly knock him back into the door.

No waiting. No hesitating. Desperate. Needy. Pathetic.

You know it’s pathetic to need him like this. Know it’s pathetic to fuck him in an Olive Garden bathroom. Know it’s pathetic to miss him.

And yet, again, knowing doesn’t do a damn fucking thing as you feel him pull at your bottom lip and he suck, desperate to taste you.

He tastes like wine and sugar. Each part of his dessert that you watched him eat just to spite you.

You’d agreed to a causal, friendly dinner for old time’s sake. After all, you owed it to yourself and to him to try and cultivate a friendship with the man who used to be the love of your life.

Now he’s just some guy you’re fucking in an Olive Garden restroom.

And maybe that’s all he should be.

You had declined any dessert, seeing as the dinner was already tense enough, and you truly didn’t want to waste another second sitting at the rather small table listening to him moan whenever he took a bite of his food.

Your eyes had narrowed with each lift of his fork, with each smirk as he licked the frosting from his lips, and each flex of his fingers around the stem of the wine glass.

Fucking asshole.

You suppose you have no one to blame but yourself. After the breakup, you were heartbroken. Sure, it was mutual but that didn’t stop the way your heart bled for him.

One night, you’d gotten…embarrassingly tipsy and maybe you had texted him that you were touching yourself to the thought of his hands.

And that was something he would sooner die than forget.

Which is why he used your friendly, casual dinner to add a bit more fire to the flame.

And despite yourself…it worked.

“Fucking missed me, yeah?” he’s growling into your ear, letting you shove his hips taut against the door as you reach for the buttons on his chest. “Yeah. You did.”

“I missed your cock. There’s a difference.”

“Really?” His eyebrow quirks upwards as you snap the buttons lose. “Could have just told me. Could have texted.”

You’ll kill him one of these days.

You shrug, as nonchalant as possible. “Or I could have called Felix. You know, actually, maybe that’s not such a bad—”

Your threat has its desired effect and before you’re afforded the opportunity of seeing the dangerous look in his eye, he’s fisting your hair and spinning you around.

His fingers tangle themselves in your roots before he shoves your cheek against the cold surface, his lips threateningly close to your ear as he hisses, “Do it.”

Confused, your brows pull together as you glance to the side. “What?”

You might not be able to see him, but you can hear the smug smirk accompanied by the sound of rustling behind you.

And next thing you know, he’s dangling your cell phone near your face. “Call him.”

A scoff. “Come on, Har, you can’t be—”

His fingers twist themselves in your hair like a vice and as your head is yanked back against his shoulder, you swear you pull a muscle from clenching so hard.

“Did I fucking stutter?” he asks of you now, and your lashes flutter. “You think Felix can fuck you like I can? Then you fucking call him.”

“Har—”

“Now, sweetheart.” His tone is vicious. Filled with spite. “My patience is running thin.”

Not one to submit to his desire to break you, you decide to call his bluff. You retrieve the phone and type in Felix’s name, hitting call before you lose your nerve.

And with each ring, Harry’s fingers crawl higher up the inside of your thigh.

Shit.

“Hello?” Felix has answered and the sound of his voice echoing from the speakers has Harry chuckling into your shoulder.

“Hey.” The forced delight in your voice is a clear indication of how you really feel, although you don’t let that deter your performance. “Hi. I was just…I wanted to check in.”

A beat. And as you wait with bated breath for Felix’s reply, you feel Harry step away from your body, and your head cocks to the side.

Of course, his true intentions are revealed to you the moment you see him drop to his knees before he’s grabbing at your thighs to pull them further apart.

Inhaling a gasp, you brace yourself against the door, now exceedingly aware of the real game he was so desperate to play.

“Oh, I’m good, yeah,” Felix is replying, although you can’t possibly be expected to give a fucking shit when Harry is nudging his nose along the tender skin at his disposal. “Yeah, I was just going to call you, actually.”

Say something. “Aw, really? That’s—”

Of course, Harry uses this opportunity to slip his fingers beneath the fabric of your underwear, easily pulling it to the side as you steel yourself.

“You okay?” Felix. Calling your attention back, although you're not sure it’s working.

“I—yes.” Your palm flies to your lips as you swallow another pained sigh. “—I’m just…yes. I’m glad you answered, I was…I was hoping we could catch up sometime this week.”

You’re able to just choke out the question when Harry straightens up and extends his tongue.

It doesn’t take you long to press your cheek harder into the door, your eyes rolling back as he collects each fucking drop of you on his tongue.

“Oh, I’d really like that, yeah,” Felix replies, and you’re so tempted to hang up, but you can’t let Harry win. You can’t. “Yeah, what about—”

He begins to list off a number of activities you both could do in the city, but your focus is on the man beneath you.

On the feel of his fingertips pulling at your skin as he forces your legs apart.

On the subtle sigh of satisfaction on his lips as he sucks you into his mouth.

On the thrust of his tongue as you swear that you’ll kill him for doing this to you.

Your other hand flies behind you, finding his curls as you tug. Just hard enough to make him groan into your cunt, the vibrations outrageously delicious as they send ripples of pleasure through your nervous system.

“—so, yeah. Any of those.” Felix has finished his list and if you don’t reply soon, he’ll know.

Fucking speak, dammit. “I…wow. So…so many fun—shit—options.” You force out a relaxed laugh that borders dangerously close on a whimper. “Um, any of them are fine with me. Really.”

Another pause. The seconds that pass so silent that you wonder if you’ve been made.

And then—

“I really miss you.” But there’s something different in his voice. No longer chipper but rather…heavy. “Like right now…can’t stop thinking about you.”

Now you understand. And while you’re almost tempted to roll your eyes at his keen desire to have you talk him through fucking his fist, you’re forced to play along.

At least for Harry’s sake.

After all, if he’s playing with you…

“Yeah?” You force the rhythm of your words to flow like silk, soft and sensual. “What are you thinking about?”

Within an instant of your response, Harry’s annoyance is felt through the rough way he pulls you onto his face, your heels nearly slipping against the cold, marble floor as he keeps you steady on his tongue.

“M’thinking about your lips around my cock,” the voice calls from the phone, proceeding a groan, and you’re not at all surprised he’s already stuck his hand down his pants.

Fucking pathetic.

“Yeah?” You grit your teeth together, so helplessly close to clenching around Harry’s tongue that you’re not sure what else to do. “Want my throat, baby—”

“Fuck, yes,” Felix whines through the speaker, and right as your eyes are about to roll so far back in your head that you can see your own brain, Harry lets go.

And stands up.

Oh, you’re so gonna fucking kill him.

However, despite his previous determination to torture you to the brink of death, you’re pleased to find that this time…it’s for your own good.

He snatches the phone from your hand, clutching it so tight between his fingers, you won’t be surprised if it shatters.

“Want your lips and your—” Felix begins again but you aren’t allowed the opportunity to hear the rest because Harry is lifting the delicate object to the wall and smashing it against the tile.

“What the fuck?” Your eyes narrow in on the tiny pieces of plastic as they fall like rain from his hand. “Harry, you can’t just—”

His expression is dark as he dips down to hiss, “Watch me.” And with that, his tongue is forcing its way into your mouth.

He tugs your head back with the grip on your neck, falling so deeply into you that you’re not sure either of you will ever resurface.

And with that, he reaches for the baby doll neckline of your dress and rips.

Your tits spill out of their confinements and the animalistic display of lust that Harry is currently exhibiting is more than enough to leave you choking on a pained whimper.

But you remind yourself to chastise him later, because this is one of your favorite dresses, and he’s not a fucking caveman.

You’re forced back against the door, the cold surface stimulating your chest as you suck in a sharp gasp before he’s moving behind you once more.

He balls the soft material of the dress in his hands before collecting it above your hip.

Your lace underwear is twisted around his fist until it snaps, falling pathetically as he brings it to his own pocket for safekeeping.

Typical.

You hear the metallic clang of his belt as he flicks it undone and the sound alone is enough to force the drip down your thighs.

Enough time has been wasted between when you first excused yourself from the table and now, and this is something Harry seems to agree with you on as his chest meets your back.

“Beg me,” he murmurs, the tip of his cock brushing your cunt as your eyes flutter shut. “Beg me to fuck you the way he can’t. Beg me to let you come.”

Normally, you’d never let yourself entertain such a demeaning request and show for power, yet…tonight is an anomaly.

Because garlic bread and all-you-can-eat salad is not the aphrodisiac you had anticipated falling victim to tonight.

But you have and you know undoubtedly that you might never find yourself with Harry like this again.

So, why not have one last quick fuck for the road before you go your separate ways?

“Shit,” you finally find the strength to whisper. “Please…please, Har. The only one. Only one who can make me come. Please...fucking missed it. Missed you.”

He curses between his teeth before finally…that feeling.

Your leg is thrust up against the door, knee pressed into the hard surface as he drives himself inside, your jaw going slack when you finally get what you’ve wanted for weeks now.

Him.

It’s familiar, and it’s good, and it’s so fucking full you’re not sure why you ever broke up with him in the first place.

He’s kind enough to offer about two and half seconds to adjust before pulling out and going again. Hard and slow clearly not on the table tonight.

Or…on the door.

You both know each other well enough to immediately create the rhythm that works the best, one hand reaching around your throat as he tugs you back, squeezing until your vision goes fuzzy.

Ecstasy. That’s all you know. Each sharp thrust and tug of his fingers in your hair, or on your hip, or around your throat.

He moves to grasp your jaw, squeezing tight as you swallow, something that merely spurs on the desperation.

“Fucking missed this.” Staccato breaths echo in your ear as he mumbles his admission. “Fucking missed this tight, little cunt. S’always so good to me. Yeah? Know you’re so fucking good to me. Take me so well—”

His fingers move for your lips, tugging at the bottom one until you take him into your mouth and suck. His favorite.

You moan at the taste, mostly for his benefit, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t live to devour each part of him.

Besides…he tastes like the frosting he was so determined to swipe from the plate.

And now maybe you’re grateful he did.

Once he removes them from your mouth, they fall down your chest, tweaking your nipple—hard—before traveling lower.

They find your clit, thumb pressing tight to your body until you’re gasping against the door, turning until you can rest your forehead against the surface.

“How’s this, baby?” A sadistic chuckle. “Bet you fucking missed this, didn’t you? Missed the way I touch you. Missed the way your body drips for me—”

You’d almost agree with him if you weren’t currently swallowing a loud cry.

“—bet you always do, hm? Drip for me? When you’re fucking yourself thinking of me?” His lips move to your neck, sloppy kisses trailing down your spine. “Bet you play that video, yeah? Love to hear yourself whine for me, don’t you? Love to hear the way you drip down my cock.”

Your cheeks flush. Not at the mention of the video, per se, but at the realization that he’s right.

Because you do. You can’t help yourself. Fucking your own fingers can only take you so far.

But the video…the sounds. The way he looked coated in you. It was so fucking beautiful. Watching him swipe his wrist over his chin before licking it off—

A salacious moan escapes without your consent but it’s really Harry’s fault for making you remember such an erotic night.

“S’tight, yeah? Feels so good…fucking wanna come for me, don’t you?” He’s beckoning you to your end. Demanding your release. And you’re powerless to stop it.

You nod, wordlessly, but of course Harry and his gigantic ego can't be so easily satisfied.

"Ask me," he whispers forcefully. "Fucking ask me to let you come."

“Har—”

“Ask me nicely to let you come,” he repeats, using the hold on your hair to force your cheek harder into the door.

And despite yourself, you oblige to his request. “Let me come, Har…please. Please just…just let…”

“Y’don’t come for anyone but me, yeah?” Another question disguised as a threat. “S’right, yeah? Never fucking come for anyone but me—”

“No,” you promise. “No, just you, Har. Always you—”

“Always me.”

And before you have a chance to scream so loudly, the entire restaurant can hear him obliterating you, he brings his palm to your lips, forcing your silence.

You’re not quite sure it’s ever felt so good, and you’re vaguely aware of him coming, too, but you can’t possibly care about anything else but the feel.

It encompasses you. All of you. You have no concept of time or reality. Just the feel. The feel of him. The feel of the burn already forming in your thighs. The way your hips roll back to extend the sensation as he pulls you down.

Him. On your neck, your shoulder, your thighs.

“Shit.” He takes a deep breath, and you’d laugh if you had the strength. “So fucking good, darling.”

Those gentle kisses you’ve grown to miss are scattered across your skin. Each one softer and sweeter than the last.

“That’s my girl.” His lips never leave you once. Your stomach flips at the familiar phrase. “Easy, darling, I’ve got you. That’s it. S’all right.”

After he’s sure you’re strong enough to stand, he pulls out, much to your dismay.

But your disappointment fades when he gently spins you around until your back meets the door.

Then…he holds you.

Grabs your hips and moves to capture your lips with his. Tender this time.

You’d sigh with contentment if you were allowing yourself to miss him as much as you’re afraid you do.

The kisses move down your cheek. Your neck. Your throat. Your chest. Never harsh, never sly. As if kissing away all your troubles, all your pain, all your regret.

He lowers himself to a crouch, fingers rubbing soft circles into your thighs as he moves to kiss up the sensitive skin.

Collects you both on his tongue, licking a stripe up your leg as you inhale quietly.

All the while, murmuring, “S’okay baby. I’m here, I’ve got you.”

And you don’t doubt that he does.

When he straightens back up, he slots himself between your thighs, finding a home in your embrace.

Your arms wrap around his neck, and you just breathe. Breathe in the familiarity of him. The sweat, the sex, the cologne you used to hate but now you miss.

Fuck, you’ve never missed something so badly in your life.

But you can’t let yourself fall for him again. You can’t. You’re sure he’s already over you and getting over him is one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to do.

You can’t do it again.

“We should go,” you hear yourself say, thankful the crack in your voice is undetectable. “We should…they’re probably really—”

“Don't go.”

He doesn’t look at you when he says this, his face buried deep in your neck. His grip tightens. Your breath hitches.

A beat as your lashes flutter. “Harry…”

“Don’t go,” he whispers along your jaw. “Don’t…don’t make me go. Can’t do it again.”

A sharp inhale. You have no response.

When he leans back, you see the yearning in his eyes. The genuine longing to keep you in his arms forever.

“I can’t do it again,” he repeats, hand coming up to cup your cheek, catching the tear as it falls. “We can figure all the other shit out later. I'll do whatever you want. But please…please don’t make me watch you walk out this door. Please don't make me lose you again.”

And despite every reminder of why you parted ways in the first place, every outrageous fight, every moment of bitter contempt that led you to the end…you smile.

You smile and weave your fingers through his disheveled hair, tugging him down until you can kiss him.

“I can't lose you, either,” you murmur until you feel him sigh with relief. "It's always you, Har...always come back to you."

He grins. The first genuine grin you've seen from him since the breakup. “Always me?” A desperate request. Hopeful.

And you’ve never meant something more in your entire life.

“Always you.”

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

#harry #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles request #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #request #blurb #harry styles one shot #one shot

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randomperson0k · 2 months

Text

the evil thoughts got me fucked up and shit

OH forgot to mention: top 2 images are the final 'redesign', 2 images below are concept sketches i made for the 'redesigns'

tgs jekyll and hyde but they got evaporated by my evil headcanon beam and stitched back together by somebody who has no experience with using a needle and thread to the point where theyre more just like a seperate character

im sorry for my sins

PLEASE HEAR ME OUT BEFORE BITING A CHUNK OUT OF MY ARM. if anybody wants to read about my evil headcanon world all the stuff is below. wasnt really exaggerating when i said i ripped their character apart and stitched them back together though.

i do have a google doc full of everything i headcanon for tgs but some of that is embarrassing as hell so im just slapping the important stuff here

most of these 'headcanons' are here more because they make me happy than to actually make any sense. as a warning.

smokes fat blunt puffs it in your face anyways uh trans henry jekyll yeah (gets shot) ty person from the j&h community i was messaging that dragged me to the dark side and introduced me to the world of embracing my j&h trans headcanons. a true angel.

i really like more book inspired takes on j&h than the musical ones soo uhh.. yeah theyre the same person fully no j&h arguing thing. im soooorrrrryyy its just my preference for adaptations and i find it a lot more fun to play with story wise. also some other reasons but i wont get into those

polyamorous and bisexual (bi because... obvious reasons. poly because of that one couple they meet up with in the comic every now and then. my favourite ... ship (i think thats the right term?) in the comic. i love them.)

gas mask because it looks cool + chemical shenanigans ("oh but those didnt exist" shh. shhhhh.")

speaking of chemicals! they are much more into science. mostly does science-y stuff when theyre hyde though. they like to break into lodgers rooms and contribute to experiments.

facial hair. thats it. no further reasoning will be given

tried making jekyll in the concept redesign of him look older. failed SO bad im sorry i know its horrible.

hyde has pointy ears + pointer teeth (and green tongue because potion goop) + slit pupils because i am incapable of designing a human hyde. i have no idea why but i just cant.

earrings because 1: i have a bad habit of giving designs earrings and 2: i remember seeing a few headcanons of j&h with earrings and they were so tasty to look at so i had to do my own

bandage scarf thing from the beta tgs hyde design + newer tgs design that only shows up in the mind... world.... thing.

added the uhhh goggles from the old design too.

red and green hat because i couldnt decide if i wanted hyde to have the red hat from the old design of tgs hyde or the green hat from the current design. ripped it in half and chose both. great decision making i know

chunks of brown hair in hydes because why not. also red ring around one eye as like a weird variant of half heterchomia.

hyde has weird patches of green colored skin idk it just looked cool when i was fiddling with colors so i kept it

hyde has red scales in certain spots of the design. no further explanation

gave hyde black gloves to contrast jekylls white gloves + cmon. hyde probably touches the most gross revolting shit with the places they go to. they deserve some gloves.

changed their body type a litttttle bit just a smudge

i was going to give jekyll a cravat around the neck (a really bad designing habit of mine is to give characters cravats. not my fault they look so cool) both as a fancy thing + to hide lack of a adams apple buuttt the design felt way too clumped so im scrapping that. ignore the cravat in the drawing. grrr bARKBAKRABK

actually does sparkle visually/not just as a non-existent visual effect and people can actually see it. lanyon always swats them away because the sparkles get in his face.

hyde is more shorter than shown in the comic, more like book hydes height. like a foot or more shorter than jekyll. jekyll stays around the same height though. hydes probably the shortest one in the society.

permanent eyebags. does not sleep but cmon we all already knew that

hyde has a strong scottish accent instead of the other accent he fakes in the comic that i always forget the name of

has a cane like the og book. its a sword cane.... yeah i have a addiction, im sorry. (like half my own personal characters have sword canes)

i suck so bad at drawing shoes so hydes shoes look like ass but theyre supposed to be big boots since this guy probably walks through yucky mucky areas and stuff

i would totally write some oneshots or something like that of these guys going on adventures doing experiments and stuff yknow . (stuff like lodgers content and interactions, lanyon and hyde interactions because i enjoy secret identity and person said secret identity personal knows outside of their secret identity interactions, that one couple i talked about before interactions with jekyll/hyde and just in general random oneshots that make no sense) if i actually had any literacy skill

anyways im done my ramble. now you guys can shoot me

#the glass scientists #but like #i ruined it #sorry guys i sneezed on tgs j&h theyre trans and neurodivergent now #embracing my cringe #tgs hyde #tgs jekyll #but extremely torn apart #not literally torn apart i mean figuaritytuibjvbvkvj #posting this knowing its gonna get me on atleast 7 different peoples hitlists #ok im gonna go snore mimimi now #my tgs headcanon world

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myfairkatiecat · 2 months

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Okay okay okay. My KOTLC oc’s from when I was 11, all recently recovered from my notes app.

Edit: upon reading it again i think the vibes are telling me I was actually 13. Still. These are old OC’s and I’m surprised by how much I adore them

These were all created when nightfall was the latest book so… do with that what you will.

But I’m falling back in love with them 🥹

@swans-chirping-in-the-distance @sophieswundergarten @thesmartpaladin @autistic-daydreamer (since you guys asked about them :D)

Names (in order):

Avana Crane

Kaslyn Crane

Timon Kester

Haylyn Zuni

Danisa Madella

Bios are below the cut!

Avana Crane

- works for the Neverseen as a double agent for the Black Swan. Works for the Black Swan as a double agent for the Neverseen. Both organizations think they are on their side. Only she knows what side she is on… and even then, she’s not really sure. She just wants change and knows one way or another, one of these groups will eventually succeed.

- she hides the fact that she ever manifested an ability so no one can prepare for what she can do. She uses the fact that she is “talentless” as her reason for distrusting the council to get both the neverseen and black swan to feel sympathetic for her. (She is a mesmer. Her chaos capabilities with this being a secret are impossible to match.) I headcanon that neither organization ever had a real reason to probe her mind, but if anything about it comes up in her memories when someone looks through her mind, she blushes and says she always daydreams about having this super powerful special ability since she never got one, and since she’s seventeen and there’s no reason for them to assume she’d hide an amazing ability during a time of her life when she should want to be accepted, everyone just goes with it.

- Never really works close to Sophie and her friends in the black swan, but gets to know Keefe while he’s with the neverseen. He’s really bad at pretending he doesn’t care about the Moonlark, but as someone who is playing both sides expertly, Avana can’t judge him… she does MAJORLY ship Sokeefe though.

- Mr. Forkle absolutely knows she has loyalties all over the place. He also knows she has a special ability. He shares this information with no one because he is very impressed with how effective she is at making things happen and doesn’t want to jeopardize that—and she clearly meant it when she said “I will do everything in my power to help my world” when swearing fealty. He is the ONLY one who knows. Nobody with the neverseen has a clue.

Kaslyn Crane

@kaslynspeaks I literally named this character when I was eleven, but now that I look at her name again all I can think of is you lol

- Avana’s little sister (fourteen years old)

- Beguiler & Polyglot

- mainly exists to give Avana a reason to burst into tears and play the “I just want the future to be better for my sister” card with both rebel groups (despite the fact that her sister is… three years younger than her) and to be Timon Kester’s eventual love interest!

- has an impossible crush on Keefe Sencen. Avana has heard his name multiple times out of the mouth of her little sister by the time she meets him with the neverseen, which is part of why she’s so quick to trust him. However, Kaslyn is more than aware that he’ll never love anyone but Sophie… she just deludes herself sometimes!

Timon Kester

- Timon was adopted by his aunt and uncle after his parents decided they didn’t want him anymore. He manifested as a polyglot at age 13, and his parents said this was an essentially useless ability on its own. Timon didn’t want to stay with them anyway. They were the worst

- Timon and Kaslyn are good friends and talk to each other in other languages just to mess with their friends. Timon likes Kaslyn a LOT, but Kaslyn is, as previously mentioned, hopelessly in love with Keefe Sencen (who barely knows she exists). Timon wonders if he should start acting out bc of home troubles… maybe that would get Kaslyn’s attention…

- Timon sorta wants to join the Black Swan after hearing little stuff about it since it’s become sorta mainstream to know about it by nightfall. He’s like hey that’s cool, I like what they seem to stand for… however the ticket in at this point seems to be having a shared traumatic experience with Sophie Foster and Timon has zero idea how to get one of those

- Timon thinks Kaslyn’s older sister is REALLY sketchy, but he can’t say that because he’s afraid of seeming prejudiced against talentless people. Avana gives him weird vibes though.

Haylyn Zuni

- Haylyn is a hydrokinetic in level one at foxfire that Linh has taken under her wing

- She is eleven and also is VERY young to manifest. Linh recognizes herself in Haylyn and bonds with her quickly, helping her control her powers

- Haylyn asks Linh about joining the black swan exactly once. Linh says it involves a lot of almost-dying and Haylyn goes back on this, saying she’s happy to support the black swan but definitely doesn’t need in on the almost-dying thing.

- Haylyn thinks Marella is AWESOME. Since Linh and Marella hang out a lot, Haylyn sees Marella around quite a bit. One time, Haylyn tells Marella how cool pyrokinesis, and how part of her wishes she got to be a pyrokinetic. Marella is absolutely shellshocked and realizes that the prejudice against her ability isn’t being taught as strongly in school as it used to be, and that real progress is being made. Haylyn tells Linh that she’s glad she’s a hydrokinetic though because it means she gets to play water with her. Haylyn is ADORABLE.

**side note: I characterized eleven-year-old Haylyn as VERY juvenile for someone who was currently eleven at the time. I am… sort of thrown off by this??? Like I LOVE Haylyn, but come on Little Katie, you were literally her age…**

Danisa Madella

- Danisa is Haylyn’s friend her age!!

- she hasn’t manifested an ability yet but when she does, she’ll be a shade—which will throw everyone way off because she’s the most bright, sparkly person ever

- she’s super optimistic and fun and upbeat. She loves swimming with Haylyn because Haylyn makes a bunch of pretty shapes in the water

- Elvin vsco girl energy **STOP I FORGOT THAT WAS A THING**

- Danisa looks up to Sophie Foster a LOT. She’s her role model. She daydreams about finding out she’s actually going to manifest five abilities so Sophie can have a Moonlark friend, and that one day the black swan will tell her she is special and invite her to come risk her life for their cause!

- Danisa and Haylyn are friends with Galin Kester (also not yet manifested but will be a telepath, maybe I’ll make a bio for him if he becomes more relevant in my headcanon) who is Timon’s cousin (but since Timon lives with his aunt and uncle, they’re like brothers) so Danisa sees Timon a lot and has him teach her languages. She doesn’t tell him why she wants to know as many languages as possible, but secretly, she really wants to impress Sophie one day if she joins the black swan.

The Groups

- The Danisa-Haylyn-Galin friend group makes elaborate plans about how they’ll casually insert themselves into enough conversations to worm their way over to sitting with the Black Swan affiliated elves at foxfire. They never execute these plans.

- The Kaslyn-Timon-Shanla friend group consists of many of Shanla’s schemes to set Timon and Kaslyn up together. (Shanla is a guster and has even resorted to literally having the wind knock Kaslyn off her feet before. Timon forgot to catch her so the whole thing failed)

- Kaslyn and Avana used to be closer, but now that Avana graduated from Foxfire, they don’t see each other as often. (This is possibly because Avana is busy with her extreme quadruple agent scheme)

#kotlc #kotlc oc #keeper of the lost cities #original characters #Katie’s KOTLC oc’s

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bloingy-land · 6 months

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dawg I just had to move all my shit to a brand new world because calamity loves me and decided to do its worldgen weird.

i am going to share this tale with you for the haha funnies. i am not complaining. in fact this made me so incredibly joyous and i thought it was HILARIOUS

ryder is currently pre-skeletron. so i decide that now is the time so i can go into the dungeon and get some nice and tasty weapon upgrades. with that as well comes the time for me to get some sea prisms. i think "huh, i've been neglecting going to the sunken sea. perhaps now is the time!" i say, having no idea of what would unfold for the the next hour

i find my prisms. i start exploring. i find some honey and realize "oh hey, i'm right next to the jungle." a jungle shrine is to the left under the sunken sea and i think "oh hey! nice!" so cool! my sunken sea's next to the underground jungle!

HOWEVER. and i mean HOWEVER. this. this is where it begins. the tomfuckery begins here

as i'm exploring the place, luiafk does me its nice little favor of bringing nearby items towards me. it is great for collecting blocks from dynamite holes while i'm busy actually mining. BUT.

i suddenly collect the Mother Fucking Lihzard Altar

as in The Thing you use to fight golem later in hardmode.

my brain COMBUSTS. it lights on fire immediately and alarm bells start ringing as a single, one (1) thought is imprinted in my mind:

what the fuck

so i go to the side, thinking, did my world come out weird?? did something merge??

and to no one's surprise

BITCH.

basically my sunken sea collided with my jungle temple which yeah is bad on its own but i feel like where it went the most incredulously wrong is that the sunken sea ate THE ENTIRE BOSS ROOM FOR BREAKFAST.

i leave and reenter the world with victor to check out the temple because it's post scal and can handle it compared to ryder's small little prehardmode body

i think "huh. do i have some weird mod that puts the boss room at the top?" NOPE. no you do not. You wanna know what you do have?!?!

a Significant lack of GOLEM'S ROOM

i immediately realize this means i cannot naturally fight golem. you see that fucking clam down there? that's my prime suspect for this CRIME. this THEFT. why would Amidias be enough for the clam. why eat that seahorse looking ass guy when it could just turn at my jungle temple and HHHERMRMPGHHHHGGHBNMN NNNABMANN ÑAM ÑAM ÑAM ÑAM yknow. Just *roblox mm cheeseburger sound effect*. for what reason? perhaps the funnies? perhaps it wasn't satisfied with its already plentiful meal? god knows? it despawned before i could ask it!

moral of the story worldgen does very funny things and i was laughing my ass off and thought perhaps this would be a little funny enough to talk about. i love modded terraria

#terraria #calamity mod #terraria calamity #modded terraria

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transmascissues · 8 months

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hey, sorry idk if its ok for me to ask for advice here, but im really lost and dont know where else to go.

i might be starting testosterone really soon, (via informed consent) but i keep flipping back and forth on whether or not i'm sure i want it. some days i think, "yes 100% im a man i want T right now" and thinking abt the effects of T makes me euphoric. other days i think, "wait AM i sure tho? what if it turns out i hate it actually" and thinking abt the effects of T on those days makes me anxious and ambivalent.

i think it might be just a fear of change, but i'm not sure, and i'm worried about making a decision i'll regret forever. it doesnt help i keep seeing ppl say things like "you need to be 100% sure you want hrt before u start because going back and forth puts a huge strain on the body" etc, but i dont know if i ever will be 100% sure.

what do you make of this? do i really need to be 100% sure? am i rushing in too fast? or is this just anxiety talking?

i spent years agonizing over if i was really sure that i wanted to start t, and you know what it taught me?

no one is ever 100% sure about anything. it’s an impossible task. that’s just not how people work — you’re always going to find more things to be anxious or unsure about when you think about it because it’s an unknown thing and it’s completely natural to be at least a little unsure of unknown things.

and most of the time, nobody expects you to be 100% sure about big decisions because we all know it’s an unfair expectation. nobody told me i couldn’t go to college because i wasn’t 100% sure where i wanted to go. nobody tells you to never drive anywhere because you’re not 100% sure that the car won’t crash. accepting risk is a part of life. trusting ourselves to make the best decisions we can — and trusting ourselves to be able to handle whatever happens next — is an unavoidable part of life.

the only reason we’re held to that impossible standard of 100% certainty when it comes to medically transitioning is because people are transphobic and they want us to second guess ourselves and put off hormones or surgery out of fear. if everyone waited until they were 100% sure, no one would ever transition, and that’s exactly what they want.

i look at it like this: hormones are like any other medication. you take them because you decide they have a good shot at making your life better even though there’s also a chance they might be ineffective, have bad side effects, or even make things worse in the end. we accept that risk every time we take a medication because we weigh the options and decide the good that could come of them is worth that risk. imagine if doctors only offered medical care to people when they were 100% sure it would work and not have any side effects — they would never do anything at all!

i can’t tell you if hrt is right for you. i can’t tell you if the risk is worth it for you. what i can tell you is that, when i was unsure about what to do, there were two things that made me decide it was worth the risk:

the first is that i knew i wanted to give myself a chance. the idea of going on hormones only to get more dysphoria from it sounded terrifying, but the reality was that i was already living with dysphoria! and the idea of just accepting that because i was afraid to try the thing that could make it better was even more terrifying. at the end of the day, i decided it was better to choose the option that could make things better than it was to just spend the rest of my life wondering if it would’ve helped. the worst case scenario in both choices is dysphoria, so i figured, why not pick the option where the best case scenario is euphoria? i know dysphoria is something i can live with because i’ve been doing it for years, so i felt that i could trust myself to be able to deal with that outcome if it came. i knew it was possible that i would regret it and wish i had never started t, but i also knew i would regret it even more if i went my whole life never having given myself a chance at something better than the dysphoria i already live with. i figured, if i have to take a risk, why not take the one that excites me instead of the one i would just be taking out of fear?

the second is that hormones are fucking slow. there can be some changes that happen fast but for the most part, the changes on t take time to happen fully, and if i wanted even more time i knew i could take a lower dose to slow things down further. it’s not like you just wake up one day with a totally different body — it’s a process, and if at any point in that process you realize you don’t like what’s happening, you can stop! you’re completely in control; the second it starts to feel like it’s making something worse instead of better, you can decide to stop taking it. even with the changes that came quickest for me, i had time to assess as they started happening, and it would’ve been as simple as putting down the syringe and never using it again if i decided i didn’t want those changes to continue.

(and the people who say you can’t start and stop because of the strain on your body are exaggerating — i had to start and stop multiple times because i was having allergic reactions to all of the serums we tried, and i was totally fine. that was never even a concern my nurse brought up to me. i’m sure it’s not ideal to do that constantly, but i don’t think it’s a big thing you have to worry about.)

again, i can’t tell you if starting t is the right move for you. all of this is just how i made that decision for myself; i can’t make yours for you. what i can tell you is that you are more than capable of making a thoughtful and informed decision without being 100% sure. certainty is not a requirement.

and frankly, anyone who tells you they were 100% sure when they made that decision is either lying about it because they feel like they should’ve been totally certain, or they were in a position to make the decision so quickly that it didn’t leave time to mull things over and find things to be unsure of.

which leads me to my final point: if you’re thinking about it this hard and trying to be this meticulous about making the right decision, you’re absolutely not rushing into it. whatever decision you make, you’ve clearly put a lot of thought into it and that’s all anyone can ask of you.

this is your decision, not anyone else’s, and already you have everything you need to make the best decision you possibly can. trust yourself to choose wisely, and trust yourself to be able to handle whatever your choice brings. you got this.

#this ended up much longer than i intended but i have a lot to say about it bc i was in the same place a couple years ago #ask answered #trans men #transmascs #hrt #testosterone

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justatalkingface · 6 months

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WTF happened?!?

Alright, so for context? I took a break at... *checks bookmark* 395. And looking at that chapter really quick, I'm reminded why I stopped reading for all this time!.That's ten chapters behind, for the record, and from what I can tell from my occasional glances at the critical tag? Those ten chapters were... something.

Welp. I read them. And then experienced instant regret.

Let's start with the first big thing: Armor Might. Somehow, looking at Armored Might, my first thought isn't WTF, because I've seen the spoilers, but the way that mask frames his smile reminds me of Redestro? Like, what the hell, he actually looks villainous like this. Still, though, the way powers are supposed to be the students isn't just cringe beyond belief it's... actually really dumb?

Like, step back from the ham handed metaphor for a minute, and look at this as a set of powers that someone decided to put in one suit. Ignoring how they stuffed so much shit into a suit, which even for MHA tech breaks my SOD, much less how this is surviving hits that causally blast through buildings, but it's just... inefficient? Let's ignore such choices as 'talking to animals' and 'powered by sugar', which are clearly relics of a different manga and don't make sense to use at all, but just these powers as a package. Does it make sense to put something like, 'make acid' with super strength'? Or 'sound waves'? Etc, etc? Wouldn't you want things that synergize together, so the suit is... I don't know, sturdier, or more effective, rather than having to build in a bunch of random devices just to do a reference? That explains why half of them aren't even same powers, it's just pointlessly pasting the names on things built to counter literally this situation, a reverting AFO, even though they had no possible way to know it would happen. Like a Uravity 'thruster'. Which has fuck all to do with canceling gravity.

Seriously. Cellophane and Blackwhip are literally the same damn thing, as in, literally they're the same tentacles. He's 'using' 'different powers' to retract them. And the sugar power is a... rocket kick? I. Can we just admit this doesn't actually have the entire class in it and move on?

Also, the fact that AFO is apparently super predictable and apparently has never adjusted his tactics once since beating Nana? Bitch please. He's been leading you by the nose since day one, and the only reason you ever beat him is because you out-powered him because you're bullshit and he's nerfed.

As a side note, AFO isn't controlling his reversion. He's not 'choosing' to rewind faster to heal himself, it's just happening, and Eri's Quirk just doesn't give a shit about anything, the acid would just be gone. Eri's Quirk has literally never given a shit about anything, ever, including but not limited to it's target, the person using, or the laws of nature because it's not a healing Quirk, its reversing fucking time.

Honestly, reading this, I'm not even angry about how bad the writing is anymore, I'm just cringing. Both All Might and All For One sound like complete morons, the fight is stupid, it's just.... this is just pathetic and it hurts to read.

I. Is AFO the shining baby. I pretty sure a bunch of people made jokes about the baby coming up but. Is AFO the shining baby?

Why is Stain even here? Why is the suit talking?! Like, they didn't even do anything, it didn't even buy any time, it just dragged out the chapter so we could another cliffhanger!

...Finally. Finally, Momo gets a fucking gun. I guess at this point Hori thought it couldn't harm anything to let her actually be competent, and it looks like a copy of Bakugou's new gear because of course it is, but I don't care just let me have this.

What the fuck is even the point of AFO's mouth ripping open? Like, what is the in-setting reason his cheeks tore apart?

Bakugou: fucking dies.

Bakugou: gets his heart patched together with jeans and a prayer soap bubble.

Bakugou: is instantly jumping into high intensity combat.

Yeah, that makes sense.

Are we really bring back the 'wishing energy' bullshit? Are we bringing back wishing energy and Bakugou is using it?

And now we have Nighteye. Nighteye.

...

You know what? I'm angry again.

Holy fuck. I read the posts, but I didn't believe they were real. Bakugou restarted his own heart. Like. What even is his Quirk, at this point. Like, what is it actually supposed to be, Favoritism Sweat?

All Might, solemnly: Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight.

Me, vomiting:

God, I pity whoever eventually has to voice act that and say that line at all seriously.

And, to the surprise of absolutely no one except the people who actually thought Bakugou died and were angry about it, Bakugou gets his heart impaled and came out the other end with a power up.

Let me sum up my thoughts on that with one simple sentence: The Lion, The Witch, and The Plot Armor of This Bitch.

Here's my impression ten chapters later, after a month or two without reading: I... I did not miss this story.

#bnha critical #mha critical #bakugou critical #what the fuck is this #i can almost feel my brain melting #Bakugou's Favoritism Sweat #my instant regret reading these chapters

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cult-of-the-eye · 1 month

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inspired by @archivus' statements, i decided to give it a try myself

tw for depersonalisation, body image issues, body horror, slight gore

Out of Body Experience

Statement of Rebekah Fitch, regarding something that wasn’t her body. Original statement given 5th March 2018. Recording by [REDACTED], Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, Manchester. Committed to tape 26th March 2024.

Statement begins.

I never thought I would end up like this. I just-

I guess I should start from the start.

Throughout my life, I’ve had a complicated relationship with my body. Not to get too, um, personal or anything, but let’s just say it's tough being the child of an immigrant mother, especially, well, my mother. She would make comments about my body, small ones, I’ll admit, but ones that certainly built up to…recent events. On top of all that, I spent a lot of my teen years dissociating. Tricking my brain into believing that I wasn’t real. That nothing was. It’s a bit difficult to solidify an image of your body when half of you is ashamed of it and the other half doesn’t even consider your ownership of one. Ownership. I guess that’s sort of where it all began.

It was sometime in January when it all started to go wrong. I don’t exactly have a habit of staring at myself in the mirror, in fact, the only mirror I own in my cramped little flat is the bathroom one. It’s somehow always stained, a fact which I hesitate to admit helped me live with my…issues. The point is, the majority of the time, I didn’t know how I looked.

And then one day, I watched myself wake up.

I remember exactly how it felt. You know how people sometimes slice oranges in half and then take the peel, dig their fingers into the sides and push, letting each segment split from the other, hungrily leaning up towards you? That’s how I felt. Inverted. Wrong. I saw myself in a way that I had never, ever seen before. Each and every part of me that bulged where it shouldn’t have, thinned and yellowed at the edges like a fruit in its off-season. Whatever was happening to my eyes didn’t hurt, exactly, but I could feel every single part of my body as if it had suddenly awoken from a deep unconsciousness. It disgusted me. The life of it all. I panicked, of course, I thought I was having a really, really bad dream and that all I needed to do was wake up. But, no matter how many times I attempted to shield myself from the view, no matter how many times I willed every single synapse in my brain to connect and let my goddamn eyes close, nothing happened.

That nothing was the most excruciating nothing that I had ever experienced in my life. I was forced open, boneless and writhing. The me on the bed that I was watching slept soundly.

I don’t remember when I snapped out of it. I don’t remember how long it had been. I sat up, drenched in sweat, determined to be rid of the one mirror I had left. Putting it in the bin didn’t feel as triumphant as I believed it would. I guess part of me knew that this was no one-off.

Ok, I know what you’re thinking. It could just be a hallucination. I could be traumatised or mentally ill or on drugs. Well, I’m actually all of those things, which means that I have the unique ability to prove you wrong. I know what a hallucination feels like, I know what drug side effects feel like, and I know what my episodes feel like. And this? This was entirely separate. I don’t have to tell you that it happened again. I don’t have to tell you that I went from GP to GP, therapist to therapist to find out what was happening to me. But I will end this with proof.

Statement Ends.

Post-statement records include a medical report of one Rebekah Fitch. It outlines a series of scars of unidentified means on the underside of her eyelids, spelling out the phrase “I know that I exist.” Any attempts to follow up have led to dead ends. However, I’m afraid that I may be able to guess how this one ends.

#tma #the magnus archives #tma statements #tma fanfic #how else should i tag this

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corporatefrog · 1 year

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╰┈➤ Welcome Back to the Channel part 15; red string of CONSPIRACY

✧.* featuring yn opening up to Kyle about their recent theories : ̗̀➛ notes - I always get nervous when I post written out parts (esp when it's a smau) but I felt like this needed to be in person for the effect. The next part will be mainly written too so get ready! tags - college au, superhero au, smau

series masterlist previous | next

It’s got to make sense. It HAS to make sense. If it doesn’t make sense I’ve spent the past week thinking about it and that’s a week wasted that I could’ve used to do something else or literally anything.

My vision blurred as I stared at the cork board, eyes tracing the same track of red yarn from picture to news article to picture to news article to picture-

It was a vicious cycle that had trapped me for what felt like hours but could’ve been minutes. Or days. Time came and went in no consistent interval. I woke up, went to class, came home and stared at this board until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer.

I hadn’t made a video in a few weeks and I’d postponed the interview I had scheduled with Fast Pass with no new date set. Another lost opportunity because I couldn’t get my shit together. This is all I had right now. So I had to be right. Even if the theory made me sound like I’d never had a critical thought in my life.

Which it does. Kyle didn’t even respond after you told him. That means no one believes you. It means your theory doesn’t make sense. This is BUTTERS we’re talking about.

Yeah but if it’s wrong, that means those people are right. Even if they’re just spreading hate on the internet to make themselves feel better, they have lives nonetheless. If I assisted someone who’s actively ruining people’s lives, does that make me just as bad as him?

I shake the thoughts away. I’m not a bad person. I may make questionable choices but what college student doesn’t? It’s a part of growing up. So I have to be right about this. But what does that mean moving forward? What do I do knowing one of my best friends is a super villain?

A stinging feeling begins behind my eyes as I feel the familiar pressure across the bridge of my nose that always happens before I start crying.

Why can’t I figure this out? Why can’t I let this go? Why am I stuck-

A knock at the door startles me from my concentration. My head whips to the door as though it would open on its own to reveal who interrupted my time of focus.

“Yn? Hello?” Kyle’s voice sounds from the other side of the door.

Oh fuck.

I looked back to the cork board which took up the majority of my living room.

Why did I buy this again? I wondered, realizing how much space the board actually took up. The once tidy living room had become cluttered with empty coffee cups and takeout containers littered over the coffee table, end tables, and ground. Bits of red yarn sat on the ground from cut up scraps. Other lengths that had connected discarded evidence sat in a pile on a stool, waiting for the chance to be connected to the ever expanding web once again.

“Are you in there?” Kyle’s voice rang through the apartment again.

I can’t let him in here! He’s going to think I’m some hermit conspiracy theorist!

…Well I kind of am a conspiracy theorist.

Deciding to ignore that realization, I lunged for the nearest piece of trash (a 3 day old Chipotle bowl that I just kept forgetting to walk the 3 feet to the kitchen trash) and tossed it into the garbage can. Speed cleaning the apartment lifted a weight from my shoulders, making the small living room feel less claustrophobic.

Wow, I feel better already. Maybe I should open the blind and run a vacuum through real quick- KYLE!

I spun and walked toward the door, fixing my appearance in the 10 second walk to the door to the best of my ability. Even if I’ve been stuck in my apartment for a week and a half, I didn’t want to look like it.

Unlocking the door, I put on my best “I’m totally fine and mentally stable!” face.

“Hey, kyle!”

If I looked bad, Kyle somehow looked worse. The usually maintained curls frizzed into a blur atop his head and his shirt was clearly on backwards with a Fruit of the Loom logo showing proudly at the base of his neck. His eyes darted around the hallway and into my apartment through the sliver he could see through the cracked door.

The fuck is up with him?

I think while also wearing a shirt backwards after throwing away a week’s worth of take out food and diluted iced coffee as though I was any better off.

That’s not what we’re focusing on right now. I’m perfectly stable, duh.

“You good?” I asked, leaning against the door frame to keep him from seeing my conspiracy board.

Kyle raised an eyebrow, “You’re the one that texted me an essay about your theories then called yourself an asshole.”

“Oh those?” I forced out a laugh, waving a hand to brush off the concerns, “Those were just joke, duh! You took those seriously?”

“They sounded pretty serious to me.” Kyle sighed, running a hand through his ragged hair in a way that somehow didn’t catch his fingers in the mess of curls, “Can I come in? There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

My eyes darted back into the apartment. The giant cork board stuck out like a neon sign saying “A MENTALLY ILL PERSON LIVES HERE!” I couldn’t let someone see me like this. Texting Kyle in the first place was a mistake. He’ll think I’m not thinking clearly, that I’m not someone to be trusted. The work I put into being reliable yn who’s always there to be a person you can lean on will be ruined. No one will ever trust me again.

But don’t you want someone else to know? Just knowing that someone else sees your stress instead of shoving it down until it spills over?

The thought alone of telling someone about these thoughts, of sharing the burden I’d created for myself, cleared the clouds fogging my mind. He can be someone who will listen. He can be a witness so I’m not the only one who knows that I’m struggling.

I stepped back, pulling the door open so Kyle could step through.

“Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess.” I started, hoping to mediate the embarrassment of letting someone into my stress lair.

Kyle shook his head as a small smile tugged at his lips, “It’s no problem, if you’ve ever seen stan’s room-” His sentence died out as he noticed the cork board. You know, the giant one covering my living room wall filled with pictures and newspaper clipping connected by red yarn.

“Oh.” Was all he said.

I shut the door behind him. Kyle jumped slightly at the sound, turning his gaze to follow me as I walked. He doesn’t say a word. Only staring at the cork board, the remains of trash I’d missed on my quick clean, and my own disheveled appearance.

Might as well address the elephant in the room.

“Do you want to talk about the cork board?” I asked, continuing before he had a chance to reply, “Let's talk about the cork board because I’ve been dying to talk about this cork board all day.” Walking up to the board, I pointed to the center where two photos sat: one of the supervillain Professor Chaos and the other of elementary education major Butters Stotch.

“Professor Chaos. His name keeps coming up over and over again. Everyday Call Girl is sending out alerts about this guy,” I move my hand to point at different tweets I’d printed out and pinned to the board, “Professor Chaos takes hostages in a McDonalds Play Place for a birthday party. Professor Chaos attempts to sign himself as the mayor of South Park using a fake charity petition. Professor Chaos hijacks the news station to declare the weather today ‘a 100% chance of Chaos’. This entire corner is just tweets about Professor Chaos!”

Kyle sits down on the couch without a word, eyes still following my every move. I start pacing across the living room.

Why isn’t he saying anything? Is it because he doesn’t believe me?

“So I start to look closer at his actions, his way of speaking, everything that makes Professor Chaos who he is. But it’s around this same time that I start to text a certain person more because we have a philosophy class together.” I return to the board and point to screenshots of text messages.

“Here Butters talks about getting grounded for eating two cookies and here Professor Chaos talks about being grounded for wearing his villain outfit then got grounded for trying to get ungrounded.” I look between the cork board and Kyle, trying to justify my hypothesis with the urgency in my voice, “No one gets grounded as much as Butters. You know that. I know that. Everyone knows that!”

“But that’s not even the smoking gun!” I exclaimed, pointing to another corner of the board, “Last week, Butters missed our philosophy class- which he has never done- and when I texted him, he said he was at a showing of Frozen on Ice with his mom in Denver. But when you look at the schedule for Frozen on Ice,” I pause for effect, “they don’t start shows for this season in Denver until next month. Right day, wrong month.”

“But guess what was going on last week? Professor Chaos attacks main street and is tackled by Super Craig. Landing him with another defeat and some pretty gnarly bruises to boot. The kind of bruises you’d need to miss class to cover up.” I finished with a sigh, glad to finally tell someone the monologue that had been racing through my head for the past week.

I brace myself for Kyle’s response. His eyes are locked onto the cork board and my scribbled sticky notes shouting various exclamations of discovery and panic. With a deep breath, he levels his gaze on me.

What is he thinking? Is he trying to find a nice way to say I’ve lost it? Have I lost it?

“Yn-” He begins but I cut him off.

“I know it sounds crazy, okay? I know it sounds like I’m reaching by claiming the only truly nice person I know is the town’s resident fucking super villain-”

“You’re right.”

Kyle’s response blasts through my clouded mind. I physically take a step back as my face morphs from frantic stress to confusion.

“What did you just say?” I ask, shoulders remaining tense as a hand twists into the fabric of my shirt. Kyle sighs, looking away and muttering something to himself. He raises a hand to his face, rubbing at his eyes before looking back at me.

“You’re right about Professor Chaos.”

The words I hoped to hear, the words I thought would finally take the weight off my shoulders and release the stress that had gripped my nerves, only intensified the panic in my mind.

“You mean you believe me, right?” I started slowly, trying to clarify the simple language mistake Kyle made.

“No, I mean you’re right.”

Before my mind could begin to wrap around the first revelation, Kyle continued speaking.

“I can’t tell you. I’m not allowed to. I shouldn’t even be telling you this. But I know someone who can, or at least someone who has permission.”

I began shifting my weight from foot to foot, holding back the urge to begin pacing again as I ran a hand through my hair.

“You know how cryptic you’re being right now, right?” I said.

“Yeah I know.” Kyle's leg began to bounce as his own nerves began to peak through, “I’m walking a very thin line and I’m trying not to get us both into major trouble.” He looked up to me, trying to communicate a message I couldn’t understand.

“With who?”

“Someone with a lot more authority than me. Someone who can explain things more if you come with me.” Kyle urged.

What does that even mean? Let’s not forget that he said we were right. How does he know that? Why does he know that?

My thoughts fought against each other to be the one addressed first but with so many questions, it felt impossible to single out one from the mass. Everything was happening so fast. Everything changed so fast. When did the mood of the room become so urgent? Did it always feel like this?

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to pause the thoughts. Nothing is going to get done at this rate. So I need to take the first step forward.

“Okay… yeah.”I started slowly. Kyle nodded and began to stand but I held up a hand for him to wait, “But only if you promise we can get ice cream afterwards.”

Kyle looked at me with an exasperated expression, “Are you seriously using this to get free ice cream?”

This is what he’s surprised by?

I raised my eyebrow at him and pointed to the chaotic corkboard, “You just told me my batshit conspiracy theory was right and now you want me to follow you to an unknown location to talk to an unknown person. Fuck yes I want free ice cream.”

Kyle considered the cork board for a moment before sighing.

“Fine. We’ll get ice cream.”

I muttered a quick “Fuck yeah.” to myself in celebration before looking back at Kyle,

“Okay I’ll get my coat.”

I grabbed my jacket and followed Kyle out the door, not nervous about where I’d be going, but scared that I wouldn’t like what I found.

taglist [reply to be added]: @sula0kin @lacuna-at-dawn @anglettecolours @cocolena@sukisprettyface @feverish-dove @sweetadonisbutbetter @hand-writxen@mishstuff@sophtophie @triphovia @lacunaanonymoused @inkedintothepaper @toodeepintofandoms@mmmaackerel @sillybilly-123@n0tangeliccc

#im begging for someone to understand the pepe silvia references #i even copied a bit of the structure from charlie's monologue in the episode #welcome back to the channel #south park smau #south park x reader #south park #corporatefrog #tfbw #the fractured but whole

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sasusakucoded · 5 months

Text

Sasuke: What's that?

Sakura: Oh, these are military ration pills, Sasuke-kun.

Sasuke: Why do you always take that?

Sakura: N-Nooo.. I only take them when needed.

Sasuke: I've seen you consume that a couple of times already.

Sakura: It's— It's okay though. I mean there's not much side effects except for being exhausted when the medicine wears off.

Sasuke: I don't think there's an existing drug that has no effect at all. Maybe you don't feel it, but it could affect you mentally. Like, thinking you can't function without it.

Sakura: N-No.. There's no such thing, Sasuke-kun. Trust me, I'm okay.

---

"He's right though," Sakura thought. "I've been a bit— Just a bit, right? A bit dependent on this. I can't help it. And no, I'm not addicted! But.. But it's a necessity now.. For my peace of mind. It feels good knowing I can do everything without getting tired. A 16-hour shift at the hospital? Just take a pill and I'm good even if I extend it to a 36-hour shift. I get cuts from a battle? Just pop in a pill and everything is healead. I don't even need to use my byakugou. I can just save up and save up chakra as long as I take some pills regularly."

---

Sasuke: Naruto, do you notice the military ration pills that Sakura is taking?

Naruto: Sh-She's still taking them? Sakura-chan promised that she won't anymore!

Sasuke: Is it something bad?

Naruto: Not really. I mean nothing has been proven against it. But you see, she became too dependent on it. And now that you mentioned she still have them, then that means she's hiding them from us.

Sasuke: Why does she even have so many supplies?

Naruto: She's in the medical department.. In a high position too. She has access to almost every drug.

Sasuke: What should we do?

Naruto: I don't know actually. I've talked to her multiple times. Maybe her mind will change if you'll talk to her.

Sasuke: Not really. I've also brought up the idea of stopping but she said she needs them.

Naruto: *sighs* Then we can't do anything about it.

---

Sasuke decides to go to Orochimaru to seek help.

Orochimaru: Sasuke-kun. It's late. What brought you here?

Sasuke: Yeah. Do you know military ration pills?

Orochimaru: Of course. I formulated the best version. In fact, that version is still used today.

Sasuke: Do you have a sample?

Orochimaru: Follow me. *walks inside*

Sasuke: *follows him*

Orochimaru: *enters the lab; takes a box from a cabinet* Here. Is this what you're looking for?

Sasuke: Yeah, this is the exact same pills that Sakura is taking.

Orochimaru: *confused* I didn't know there's a war somewhere.

Sasuke: There's none. What made you think that?

Orochimaru: These pills are meant for long battles.

Sasuke: Oh. That's the problem. Sakura is taking them as if they're vitamins.

Orochimaru: Hmmm.

Sasuke: Is that bad?

Orochimaru: Yes. Anything if abused is bad. Imagine a rocket. It's so powerful right? But if it loses its fuel, it falls down abruptly. The same effect happens to whoever takes the pills.

Sasuke: ...

Orochimaru: Human body is fragile. Even if the person is strong, time will come that it will reach its limit—

Sasuke: I need to stop her from taking them.

Orochimaru: Yeah.

Sasuke: But how?

Orochimaru: I have no clue. By the looks of it, she's already addicted to it.

Sasuke: /thinks/ Think, Sasuke. You got to help Sakura.

Orochimaru: Sorry, Sasuke-kun. I can only make scientific stuff in my lab. I can't persuade people—

Sasuke: No, actually you're the only person that can help me!

Orochimaru: Hm?

Sasuke: Do you know placebo pills?

Orochimaru: *smirks* Ahh, that's why I like you, Sasuke-kun. You always think outside of the box. I totally forgot about the placebo effect.

Sasuke: I just remember it from one of my travels..

Orochimaru: Yeah, placebo pills are made of starch. They're easy to make. They're used as control treatments in experimental studies.

Sasuke: Yeah.

Orochimaru: And since I created the military ration pills, I can definitely make the exact same size and color.

Sasuke: That's great. *smiles softly*

Orochimaru: Give me a day. I'll go to Konoha to hand it to you personally.

Sasuke: I can go here again—

Orochimaru: I insist. Besides, I need to visit Kabuto's lab too.

Sasuke: Well then, see you there. Thanks. *leaves*

---

Sasuke gets the pills from Orochinaru and he goes to Sakura's apartment and replaces her stash with the placebo pills. He does the same on the pills inside her bag and pocket. He monitors if she notices.

After one month..

Sasuke: How many pills have you taken in the past month?

Sakura: S-Sasuke-kun! W-Why the sudden question?

Sasuke: I just want to know, Sakura.

Sakura: I guess it's around 8 to 10.. I know it's a bit too much but I really—

Sasuke: *takes out 2 pills from his pocket*

Sakura: Y-You also have them?

Sasuke: *cuts both in half* This one [black center] is the real one, the other [white center] is a placebo pill.

Sakura: I still don't understand—

Sasuke: Give me a pill from your pocket.

Sakura: *takes out one pill and gives it to Sasuke*

Sasuke: *cuts it in half* It's also placebo. *bites it* Nothing happens to me because it's just placebo.

Sakura: *confused* B-But it made me feel energized.

Sasuke: It's all in the mind, Sakura. The things you did, your normal body did them. You had no help from the pills you were taking.

Sakura: But I'm sure they're real pills, I got them from the pharmacy.

Sasuke: I asked Orochimaru to make placebo pills and I replaced all of your supply. Sorry, Sakura—

Sakura: *blushes* Y-You did that for me?

Sasuke: You're not mad?

Sakura: No!! Why would I? You just wanted to help me.. *smiles* It's embarrassing. I couldn't admit that I got addicted to it. I thought I'm tired when I don't take them.

Sasuke: It happens, Sakura. But at least now you know that you can function without them.

Sakura: Yeah.

Sasuke: Will you be able to completely stop taking them?

Sakura: *takes out all of the pills from her pocket and bag* I surrender these to you. I will also ask the pharmacy to not give me supply no mattef how much I ask for them. *giggles*

Sasuke: If you get tired, you can always rest, Sakura.

Sakura: Right. *smiles* /thinks/ Sasuke-kun wants me to be well. I got him worried. I should repay him by taking care of myself and completely remove my reliance on the pills.

Sasuke: If ever you feel withdrawal symptoms, let me know. I don't know what to do but we'll figure it out.

Sakura: *giggles*

Sasuke: Sakura?

Sakura: *hugs him* I'm sorry for making you worried, Sasuke-kun.. Promise, I won't take them anymore. Thank you..

Sasuke: Keep that promise, okay? *hugs back*

Sakura: *nods and hugs tighter*

#sasusaku #sasusaku headcanon #ss headcanon #from ask #ty anon #sscoded no 289

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