#let me float around in the void

[taylorpixiedust]

mmmooooooooooooooooooooooooom why do i have to continue existing???? i wanna go to the vooooiiid

#why must i suffer #why must i exist #i just want to vibe #let me float around in the void #it's better than whatever 2022 is

[whatudottu]

Concept: Ben 10 Alien Force AU where everything is the same except Kevin is just insanely passive-aggressive towards Ben for the entire duration of the series

“No worries Tennyson, I buried the hatchet ages ago! That bad blood between us? Water under the bridge! I mean, it’s not like you got me stranded in a prison dimension for five years and never bothered to try and rescue me or even check up on me or anything like that! Of course I’ll help you save your grandpa! After all, what kind of hero just leaves someone for dead in the hands of vicious aliens that proceed to inflict them with severe psychological damage that will take decades to fully heal?”

I feel as though that would be a whole lot more realistic of a thing to happen, especially as the Tennysons realistically react to Kevin's passive-aggression with their own Tennyson brand passive-aggressiveness, though it might not be the most enjoyable trio to watch, which would be basically the complete opposite of the previous trio of Ben, Gwen, and Grandpa Max-

Ben and Kevin would have more personal beef (something about stealing a way too high security unreleased but already boxed game vs making two trains crash into each other for free money), but Gwen never particularly liked Kevin in the first place way back when, so even if Ben and Kevin settle their differences with admitting what they had actually done wrong (probably fighting over the more petty shit or arguing about the worse shit they did), Gwen doesn't have much basis to forgive Kevin because ultimately she did not get involved. Which I mean I don't think would be that great to watch nor that great to create a team around, especially in the earlier more mystery focused side of AF-

And this is the obligatory mention of @kariachi for introducing the idea of the Ben, Gwen, and Argit trio- you can have passive-aggressive Kevin (and the Tennyson's appropriate responses to him) all you like if Kevin takes Argit's role and Argit fills in that missing main trio slot in his stead. Depending on where and how he's introduced you could totally have a fake-out trio of the Tennysons and Magister Labrid, you know, with the assumption that someone's filling out Max's 'experienced plumber' slot. Not sure how convincing that might be but oops, I did a little ramble lmao-

#ask #anonymous #kevin levin #ben tennyson #gwen tennyson #ben 10 #don't mind me just thinking about argit- not a whole lot but it's something #i do realise that i kinda maybe vaguely forget to think about any form of team ben lmao #since a lot of my first thoughts about ben 10 are either my petrosapien ocs (they grow in number) #or the andromeda 5 of whom i like to pair with xenobiology and other worldbuilding #so i guess i'm sorry for going off topic but lmao if you've sent in an ask to ME i bet you already know that i ramble #gwen's stubborn and would probably either never come around to kevin on her team or take too much time to do so #and ben might be ultimately more forgiving as a teen than as a 10y/o but kevin's kevin #there might be a little sympathy there for the general 'sorry you got amalgamed that one time' #but like kevin dragged his 'not actually known' name through the dirt when it was just 1 to 1 transformations #let alone actually working with/for vilgax that one time #not that kevin doesn't have his own beefs of course- the null void is a horrible place to send folks as punishment #especially a distressed 11y/o who's not very human at the moment if he ever was (depends what floats your boat) #ultimately... though realistic- probably not the best working environment for a highbreed investigation

[princekirijo]

I really wanna sit down and make a proper timeline of events for Captain AU, it would def make it easier to talk about stuff then

#captain au #theres so much like random events floating around in my head #the overall story is there #but like certain things im like hmgh #i think ive been focusing so much on Riku and getting his personality where i want it (and in a way i can describe it accurately to people) #that i kinda let everything else just float in a void lmao #im also getting to a point in my royal playthrough now where i can actually get a timeline of “ingame” events so to speak #so the meat of the story lmao #im also replaying portable and taking notes as i go lmao to make sure i get sees right #i take my au lore way too seriously lol #then again. i also am watching a 13 hour lore video (which is 1 of 3 btw) of my fav game so... you could say im a lore enjoyer 💀 #also chatting with nico about events in the adjustment/captain time travel au has got me thinking to so #basically i have many ideas but i need to organize myself before i even think about sharing them on here again

[woodlands-nd]

I think I need to lay on a bed and make movements like I'm being exorcised or something like that

#idk I feel like it would fix me a little #this is definitely related to tics btw #and music is prooobably setting it off #but just letting my body jerk around in whatever weird way it wanted to #even better if I was floating in a void #HELP MY DAD WALKED IN AND I THINK SAW THIS??? #he asked who i was talking to help

[unoisveimved-un-proffesional]

This is my "Watch In Case That Edible Was The Shit" playlist, what's yours?

#pentacles talks #it's just very stimulating and relaxing. #an unholy mixture of sinful biological senses being tickled and relaxing intellectual fast food. #reminds me i am a flesh automaton piloted by neurotransmitters... #just plug me into a matrix and let me fuck around on a chess board floating in the void for eternity mmmm. #i am an electrochemical calculator processing concepts. a demonic artistic machine. #wholly natural flesh and brain and nought an ounce more. #let me melt in the ooze and have my mind fracture into a thousand dreams... #the soul will finally sleep...

[misophoria]

the threads in my tapestry have been weaved through poison and still carry residues

#it's important to me to piece together and understand my past #it's been times where i realised i was a result of my circumstances and experiences that were the most freeing #memory repression from trauma for me personally has had an effect of #making me feel like a disjointed point floating in the void of reality #if i'm this poisoned point in space and everyone else is correct and worthy and suddenly there's me and i'm not worthy #it feels like god made a mistake putting me here #but if my sicknesses came from somewhere and if i let myself see the evidence all around the tapestry of our societies #then i'm just a person in a world and molded by it. not a cosmic mistake

[evilminji]

You know what I think would be neat?

Loki, the Sky Walker himself, when he fell beyond the trees branches but before that Purple fucker could get him... felt A path, much like the hidden ones he'd wandered for YEARS, and franticly tries to catch himself.

After all, he let go in a moment of incredible emotional distress. But that moment passes. The fear kicks in. The natural, strategist's, "survival at all costs" primal drive starts SCREAMING. You grab for the ledge. Try to STOP your fall.

But~!

What if? What he was FEELING?

Was a Natural Fuckin Portal.

And Loki is no slouch! He manages to change his trajectory. His mind is still in shambles, he's an emotional wreck, mascara probably running, just? Having THE WORST month or so of his life. He's too pretty for this bullshit, he would insist, if he wasn't FALLING THROUGH THE VOID.

He's made some choices.

They may have been ill advised.

Possibly even terrible ideas, actually.

But he's come too far to die NOW. And if his brother's insane adventures and hare brained schemes haven't killed him, then THIS sure as shit won't be putting him in an graves. He refuses to allow it.

He expects to slam face first into alien dirt. At speed. It? Is going to HURT, he knows.

But that is not what happens.

He passes through a yawning portal, into Veridian skys, and slams face first into the back of passing youth. Knock BOTH of them from the sky and through several nearby floating islands.

He nearly gets punched for it.

The boy only stopping, fist merely moments from his faces, when he seems to finally register the state Loki is in. The next thing Loki knows? He's being rushed off Yeti healers. A FUSS is being made.

The youth is strong arming him into being a guest in his... frankly ALARMING home.

Loki likes the Gothic one. She seems like she bites. But the boy's parents BAFFLE him. The boy, "Danny" just? Showed up with him? And declared he was a "visiting Fenton Cousin"? SURELY that can not WORK! Boy, they are your PARENTS, they know better then YOU who is and is not rela-.....

How did that work.

No, HOW DID THAT WORK? Child answer me. And explain the violent cold meats.

Just? Loki, intellectually stimulated, like a cat in a fresh new environment. Removed from stressors. Not the strongest being around by far, but enjoying the challenge none the less. Fulfilling his life long trained role of "king's advisory" in an almost relaxed Highly Sarcastic Uncle On Vacation Who Is Also A Semi-Feral Cat sorta way to this new Child King he found.

Loved and respected for Being Loki. Just Loki. No preconceived notions to fulfill, no roles he must play, just... Be Loki.

Best part? Asgard and Thor and such? Irrelevant! Their own closed system far, far away. He's finally FREE of the shadow Asgard casts. He's taken "starting over in a new country to escape a toxic home life" to a whole new weight class unique just to him. The dude is THRIVING.

And? I bet he REALLY enjoys tormenting Vlad.

@ailithnight @hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @nerdpoe

#dp x marvel #dpxmarvel #dp x marvel prompt

[onelittlespiral]

FML: Urged

I think this was the photo that got me in. Of course I get the appeal now. But at the time I thought I was just messaging some other random torso on the apps. I was supposed to just be in and out, no strings attached. After all, he wasn’t my usual type. Looked like a roided out gym rat: bit of a gut; dark, wiry hair; and thick muscles. But muscles weren’t the thickest thing about him, and who was I to pass up a good time?

So I went over to his place. I wasn’t surprised when it was a loft above a small gym. Seemed like the ideal spot for the kind of guy. What I was not expecting was the apartment itself to be so…nice? Normal? I was prepared to get fucked on a twin-sized mattress on the floor, no frame, with sweaty clothes rotting around me. But the apartment had some character. He even offered me something to drink before we got started, in an actual glass. Maybe I needed to raise my standards. We chatted, flirted a bit as I finished my water and let things get hot from there. We kissed in the kitchen, made out in the living room, and worked our way back to his bedroom as sweatshirts, belts, shirts, pants, and straps trailed behind us.

As I positioned a pillow under myself, he took off his wife beater, the last barrier between us. The shirtless torso that seduced me was on full display as I rubbed his chest. As he leaned in to kiss me, I felt engulfed by this bear of a man, skin electric where I felt his hair ticking my bare chest. My senses felt heightened as I tasted cheap beer on his breath and smelled a deep musk of sweat, cum, and Old Spice, more in line with what I had expected from him. He ran his calloused hands over my chest and abs before finally taking up position over my trembling body. I wanted him in a way I hadn’t felt since I was a teen. Normally I would want to talk a bit more, at least give a safe word. But as he surrounded me and I felt his presence, my brain flipped a switch as my body instinctively relaxed for him. There were no thoughts to be had as my mind was consumed by his rich scent, the pleasure of his cock slowly stretching out my ass, and his intense gaze set on my fluttering eyes. At last I felt his bush pressed against my clenching ass. He lingered for just a moment, every throb of his member sending shivers through my body. He leaned in and whispered, “You feeling good, baby?”

I could only moan a bit in response. Feeling his weight bear down on me and his cock in my ass left no room for words. He shoved his pit in my face and I instinctively took a deep huff. Any resistance and tension left in my body released. I felt filled by him, just a vessel for his use. I was about to stick out my tongue when he pulled back and repositioned himself. He held my shoulders as he began moving his hips.

As he slowly began to fuck me, I felt him reach new depths within myself.

“There you go, much better. Let yourself just float”

I couldn’t resist him even if I wanted to. His cock methodically jackhammering my hole had my body riding wave after wave of pleasure. Then, I felt him tense up a bit as his cock swelled just a bit more telling me what was to come. He buried it deep as a pressure built within myself. A few more thrust from him and I shot my load over his furry chest. My mind could no longer handle it. I slipped off into a void of pure bliss, as this stranger collapsed on top of me, feeling his damp fur against my body and filling my senses once again with his musk.

I woke up the next day back in my own bedroom. No one else around. No signs of trouble. No clue how I got back. If the whole experience hadn’t been so vivid, I would have thought I dreamt the whole thing. But as I rolled myself out of bed and into the bathroom, one change became very clear.

Seemingly overnight I had lost my smooth skin and dirty blonde curls. In its place was hair. Thick, dark, course hair. It covered my chest, my arms, my back, even my crotch. I was shocked but, also, something else began to tickle at my brain. I took off my tank to get a better look at the forest. I flexed my muscles and admired the way it coated my chest and seemed to exaggerate its size. I hit a double bicep pose and smelled a familiar scent. The scent of sweat and heat and masculinity. My mind flooded with images of that night as my cock stood at attention. I shoved my face into my own pit as I bagan jacking off in front of the mirror, admiring my new body. It felt strange but satisfying, watching this stranger in the mirror mimic my every move as I lusted for him. I didn’t realize how far I had gone until I saw the stream hitting the mirror. It was hot, but something still didn’t feel right. As I cleaned up the restroom, I picked up my razor and considered cleaning myself up a bit. But as I lifted it to my face, I noticed my newly hairy pits. Exposing them, the scent of last night invaded my mind again and I couldn’t follow through. I finished getting dressed and I left for the day. With a busy schedule, maybe I could get some answers tomorrow. I think that was the last chance I had to do something, divert from the path laid out for me. But looking back, I don’t know if I would have changed a thing.

No day was as sharp a change as the first, but each morning as I looked myself in the mirror, something was a bit different. Maybe it was the sharpness of my jaw. Or were my pecs always this swoll? One week I swore my feet were growing larger. There is no way that they always slapped the ground like that. But my shoes always fit perfectly. Heck I may even need a new pair soon. My joggers were beat up as hell and reeked when I took them off after my Saturday runs. But soon it was the days that I couldn’t find anything that looked different that began to worry me most. Had I always thought so much about the bodies of the men around me? Did people always talk so fast? But as life slipped back into routine. Soon I began to question myself. Why had I worried so much about any changes? Things never actually seemed out of place, and I worked out hard to get these gains. I had been going to the gym for years and had spent tears perfecting my splits. After about two months. I stopped worrying at all. Until finally, one day I woke up and looked myself in the mirror, I saw the same man who greeted me for years.

I was a sweaty gym rat. Always had been. Always would be. I took a deep huff of my own funk, and rubbed my muscles. But everything fell into place, something felt missing. I shouldn’t have to keep this godly body and musk to myself. For the first time in a while, I hopped onto the apps and started scanning through. God, all these old matches were terrible. Why did I used to have such a thing for those muscled-up college boys? They couldn’t grow a beard if their lives depended on it. Besides, I think I wanted someone a little more…submissive. Scrolling through, my eyes caught on this young 20-something twink. Something about him reminded me of someone…someone I used to know. His lithe body, tight curls, and skimpy clothes told me he was a bottom before I clicked on his profile. A few messages back and forth, and he was on his way.

He walked in the door and it was all I could do to contain myself. Something deep within me wanted my seed deep in his ass. I needed him to worship me. I wanted him to become just like me. I had no patience as my body acted on instinct. I stripped my shirt and calmly approached, placing my hand against the wall behind him. As my masculinity and musk washed over the twink, I watched as his eyes fluttered a bit and knew his mind was submitting.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” I asked plainly.

“Ye-yes, sir.”

I grinned as I understood fully now just what had happened to me, and the power I held. But watching this twink practically trembling in front of me, maybe I was even better than my captor had been.

I gave him a quick kiss as I lead him to my bedroom. I couldn’t wait to make another man in my image.

#male transformation #transformation #reality change #musk #bro #hypnosis #fml #muscle tf

[the-unseelie-court-official]

For those who don’t know, I am the technical admin for a Minecraft server. Now I have slightly above average skills with computers, but nothing to call home about, since computers generally act weird around me. That said I was the best equipped for it so me and @the-seelie-court-official started it up together, me for technical stuff and Dion for community stuff.

Now let me tell you about the Haunting on the Minecraft server.

One of the things I wanted to set up was NPC shop keeps. Now these shop keeps look like players, and I can code them to type in chat and to walk around, but they aren’t players. They aren’t counted in the server list, they only say the words I’ve given them. One of these Npcs was Herb, the Herbalist. They sold plants.

This was their skin, by the way.

Now one day herb stopped talking, this was odd so I tried to select them, like I had done so many times before, but it wouldn’t work. Whenever I tried I was met with error messages. I couldn’t select them, so I couldn’t delete them, I couldn’t move them, they had cut their strings and I the puppet master was forced to place an end portal beneath them and drop them into the void.

I thought this would be the last of it.

Fast forward a couple months and the server is up and running for public use. The players got into the end to find the end dragon missing, and upon building out to make an enderman farm we found herb. They were hovering, in the void. Easily accessible, I still couldn’t select them to change them or edit them so we just let them stay, floating above the yawning void that was meant to get rid of them.

Over time the server got more and more glitchy, chunks were being loaded by the thousand with only one or two people on at a time. After some serious sleuthing we (me and my team) found that the server recognized a ghost player. One that wasn’t listed when you pressed Tab, but was listed on the server side. The console of the server was filled with error messages almost constantly, cascading errors of Null, of Not Found despite the fact herb was right there.

Eventually it came to a head, the corn plants and slimefun crops went Wrong. Corrupted just like herb. And with fields of Steve heads staring back from what should be a farm we agreed that we would completely delete the world. The world that herb was in, that whole dimension. In hopes it would finally get rid of them.

We thought it worked, that we had finally be rid ourselves of this beast of my own creation. An hour later Herb Appeared at the world spawn. As if nothing had happened.

Finally I had to resort to burying them in a bedrock box directly under world spawn, because while I couldn’t move them I could break the blocks under them to make them fall. They sit down there trapped, vomiting error messages any time they are looked at or touched. Waiting for the chance to destroy what we have built.

[arminsumi]

Sleepyhead — 五夏

NOTE: idk if writing this made me sadder or was therapeutic either way let's cry together :')

SUMMARY — During your youth, you, Geto and Gojo made a magic charm that would reconnect the three of you in a different reality one day by a golden silk thread.

WARNINGS — not proofread, "just a dream" trope but really u just shifted realities and forgot your other life, angst, implied death / crossing over, based on the latest chapter bc i'm in pain and when i'm in pain i write 👍 sooo just in case: jjk manga spoilers (major char death, chapter 236)

Gojo caressed your cheek and muttered " You're such a pretty crier, but don't cry for me. Sh, I'm right here, baby, I'm right here. ", keeping his other hand intertwined with yours.

. . .

Your two eyes blinking out of a dream, coming back to reality. Or was it the other way around? Maybe you were awaking into a lucid dream.

At first it's a white space. A void. There's nothing but neutrality and emptiness. Then a golden silk thread is sewn across your chest. It leads down a corridor of white, one that stretches so far it almost feels like you're taking an infinite walk.

There's a door at the end, you open it. And all there is behind it is your old classroom, just as it was. There's Gojo Satoru, smiling that wide toothy smile like nothing in the world is wrong. And there's Geto Suguru, shaking his head and sighing a laugh over his best friend's ridiculousness. And there's Shoko Ieiri, peering over her folded arms as she rests her chin on the desk sleepily.

Walking obliviously into this memory while the real world continues on outside, you completely detach from reality and cross over. Why is it this memory ? It was such an ordinary day.

But it wasn't an ordinary day, you're mistaken; that day you wove a golden silk thread and imbued it with something, magic is a good word but no — it was an otherworldly "magic", something that's not sorcery.

You drift through this classroom memory, Gojo says hello and Geto smiles. Before you realize, you're floating past the exit door and enter another room — another memory.

It's then that you realize you're just drifting along the silk thread, hopping across each memory that you wove into it; their purpose to carry you over into another reality entirely.

More memories. More. And then some more. You're travelling through them, looking at them as if through a dream lens, half-detached, in a state of limbo. Not between life and death, but between realities where you're alive.

Maybe it was cruel.

The three of you leaving the world behind, shifting into different realities at your death, just so you could be happy and peaceful.

Final memories roll by, and you shift over; and in an instant, that whole journey seeps out of your mind.

You wake up just like any other day. Nothing is out of the ordinary. Gojo is crushing you with his weight, forcing you to blink awake and mumble groggily.

That was a long dream.

" Wakey wakey, sleepyhead — full body attack ! Okay, seriously, wake up. I want breakfast and I can't eat it unless you're with me. You know that. Why are you crying ? Did you have a nightmare ? Oh really ? What was it about ? "

Gojo follows you like a puppy throughout your morning routine. Though really, it feels like a mourning routine this time. Your chest feels so heavy, and you keep hugging him as if you haven't seen him in years.

" Hey, Suguru listen to Y/n's fucked up dream. It's insane, like a manga plot or some shit. Wish I had dreams of that. You should write it. "

" Oh ? Do tell. I'm curious. Aw, why the hug ? Y/n ? You okay ? Come on, let's make some pancakes. "

You watch the two of them in this ordinary habitat; Gojo lazing at the kitchen doorframe, talking about the awful ending to his favorite story.

" Y/n, you're zoning out. "

" Are you crying ?! "

" Sorry. I just missed you guys. I don't know why. "

" But we saw each other yesterday. We spent the whole night together. It was my birthday. "

" Yeah, and that's what's freaky; I feel like I just travelled for years. It feels surreal to look at the two of you. "

" Don't cry, come here. Satoru, take care of the pancake it's gonna burn. Y/n, wanna talk about it ? "

" No, I just want to hug you two. "

" GROUP HUG. "

" Satoru you're suffocating her. "

" Good group hugs are suffocating ! "

You stay with them in a long group hug. Everything feels alright.

" . . . the pancake is burning."

Suguru tends to it.

Satoru looks at you. " Cryin' ? Still ? Come here. You're so sensitive. "

He engulfs you in a hug again. Warm, soft, nice-smelling; this is definitely your ordinary reality. What a bizarre dream, though. Truly a bizarre dream.

" So how'd I die in your dream ? " he asks curiously.

" I don't want to talk about it. I just want to cry. " you choke, crying more into his chest. Suguru scolds him from the stove, while he scrapes burnt pancake batter off the pan.

Satoru looks down at you, cupping your one cheek, and says something that you swear you've heard before.

" Such a pretty crier. But don't cry for me. Sh, I'm right here, baby, I'm right here. "

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

#yeah anyways ow #satosugu #jjk #jjk angst #satosugu x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo #geto #satoru #suguru #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #angst #angst with a happy ending #angst with fluff #angst with comfort #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #au #comfort #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jjk satoru #jujutsu kaisen satoru #geto suguru #jjk geto #geto x reader #jujutsu geto

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You're online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: I couldn't help myself.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

"So... this is what it looks like today?" You aim your camera at the sky outside your window, "sorry, the screen is kinda in the way."

You let out a nervous chuckle and flip the camera to yourself. You make a silly face. You were never overly fond of your image on the screen but the vlogs help. Like a little diary, mostly for yourself. You and your seven followers on Insta.

You bat your lashes and fix the clip in your hair, "oh, I got this free. Yeah, I bought a new hair oil and they threw this in the bag." You let your thoughts run wild from your tongue. You found a journal too daunting, the blank lines leaving you just as empty. This is easier. "Anyway, I shouldn't have spent the money to begin with."

You give another splintered laugh. The one you let out when you're anxious, or scared, or happy, or even mad.  You bite your lip and catch yourself in your digitized reflection. You stop and turn your camera to your bedroom.

"Today, I'm gonna clean this mess. Me and you guys together."

You scour the room with the lens. Your laundry is piled on the floor and you have a stack of books you need to put on the shelf. It isn't the worst it's been but it's getting cluttered.

"But first, we'll have breakfast, can't start the stream on an empty stomach," you chirp and nearly drop the phone, "oops, uh..." You fix your grip and check the number in the corner. You have one viewer; on a good day, it's three, most days, it's just you talking to the void.

You go into the kitchen, just down the short hall from your bedroom, opening into your living room. You go to the counter and prop up the phone so the camera is on you again. You tap your fingers and hum.

"What should we have for breakfast?" You ask. You don't feel as crazy talking to yourself even if there's really no one watching. "Oo, French toast. Gotta use up the eggs."

You go to the fridge and pull out the eggs and the milk. You bring them back to the counter, shuffling around for a bowl, a whisk, and the cinnamon.

You mix up your ingredients and dip the bread, one piece at a time. You put on a skillet and fry up the slices, presenting a stack of three to the camera. You smile and dust some icing sugar over the top.

“Probably shouldn't have all this sugar for breakfast,” you shrug at the camera, “alright, quick break…” 

You put the stream onto the ‘back soon’ page and take your plate to the small foldout table against the wall. You're not a fan of eating on camera. You finish and rinse up before snatching your phone up again.

You return to your bedroom and put the phone on a middle shelf and flip the stream back to live. Still that one viewer…

“Anyway, I'm back,” you wave at the lens.

You hesitate, looking around as you stand straight and spin. Cleaning, right. Before you can set to work, the phone dings.

A message?

You go back to your phone and squint at the chat bubble floating up.

‘Looked delicious too.’

“It was,” you agree with a grin, “thanks.”

‘Don't mean the toast.’

The next message has you blinking. Your nape burns. They can't mean… you clear your throat and giggle.

“Well, let's get started,” you back up and clap your hands, “you know, I've been so carried away with work. This place is a pigsty.”

You sit on the floor and sort through the clothes. You toss them into the basket as you sit in silence. You stop yourself and glance at the phone.

“How about some tunes?” 

You walk on your knees to your bedside and turn on your bluetooth speaker. You go to your phone and find a playlist before pulling the stream back to full screen. As you do, you hear a noise you've never heard before.

‘BourbonBear has tipped.’ Huh? Really?

“Oh, thanks, er, BourbonBear,” you giggle around the name, “how nice. Maybe one day I can afford a proper camera for this, huh?”

You smile and go back to the dirty clothes. You quickly ball up a pair of panties and shove them in the basket. You carry on until they're all untangled.

You move on and tidy your desk, bending underneath to gather up a few loose pens. You make your way around the bedroom, putting away books, fixing the blankets on the bed, and straightening the little figurines on the shelf above the bed.

You grab the stick vacuum and suck up the dirt and proclaim your task done. It took a lot longer than you thought. It's after eleven. The one viewer is still there.

“Whew, okay, I'm gonna get myself washed up and go to the park. Maybe I'll post that later,” you give a thumbs up next to your head as you talk to the phone, “thank you.”

You end the stream and let out a sigh. Your videos aren't much and you doubt they're very interesting but it's like venting for you. Almost like having an invisible friend. You think you will take some pictures of the flowers to share.

🧸

You take your usual path through the park. The walks help you unwind your worries. You try to come after work at least a couple days during the week and both days on the weekend. You find the mindlessness of the routine to be calming.

The deeper you get into the wooded length of the path, you slow to admire the birds in the branches and the critters crawling in the brush. You take out your phone and snap a few photos of a blue jay before it wings away shyly. You smile and flip the cam, smiling as you take a goofy selfie. You can add that to your post.

The path winds ahead and you follow it in the din, listening to the river just down the incline to your left and the tweeting from the sky. You lift your face and inhale the woodsy scent. The sudden crack of a twig startles you and you spin to face the noise. There's no one there. Sometimes you forget other people are free to just walk on through.

You chuckle at yourself and continue on. The path leads out to a suburban street where you like to look at the houses. They're much more spacious and pretty than your grimy brick apartment building.

You come out from the shade of the trees and wander along the avenue. There's a mailbox painted to look like the house it stands before and a little nook for second hand children's books to be borrowed through the neighbourhood. Sometimes you picture yourself living in one of those houses though you don't think it could ever truly be.

As you crane your head, you sense a shadow in your peripheral. You're walking a bit slow. You sidle to the side to get out of the way of the other pedestrian. When no one passes, you look back. No one.

You must be imagining things. You shrug and plod along. You're already thinking of what kind of tea you'll have when you get in.

🧸

You sit down with your mug of ginger citrus tea and set to editing your post. You add a light filter to the photos as you shuffle through them on your laptop. The process is slow as the computer is nearly five years old now and chuffing on its 4GB drive. You get to the selfie you snapped, a stop.

You lean in to get a better glimpse of the background. It's fuzzy but there's a figure just over your shoulder. How could that be? You looked and there was no one there. That's so strange.

You stare as a chill courses through you. You're thankful you hadn't put your earphones in. You wouldn't have heard whoever it was and they may have even snuck up on you. Or maybe it's just a trick of the light.

You hit ‘post’ and try to shake off the foreboding. It's nothing. You're being silly. Besides, you're home and safe now. Next time, you'll be more alert.

A message pops up. You stare at the dot over the chat bubble. You tap with your thumb and bring up the DMs.

'Stream tonight?' BourbonBear asks.

You tilt your head. You already did some today. You're tired and want to lie down and enjoy your time off. You type back 'sorry, not tonight. tomorrow <3' and another notification vibrates. A comment on your latest post.

'Pretty sweater', also from BourbonBear. You heart their comment and leave a thanks below.

You flip back to the selfie. You can't really see your sweater in the picture, just the scalloped knitting of the collar. Well, you suppose it does look cute. You put your phone down and leave it on your desk. That's enough Insta for today.

🧸

You time your shopping trip for the least busy hour. It's early and the store is almost empty except for employees stacking bread on shelves or wandering listlessly around the deli. You have your phone in the basket of the cart, aimed at you as you roll it along slowly and check your list.

The stream is just as empty. It's only just started but you don't expect too many people to be up at this hour. You stop and grab a loaf of sourdough, checking the date before showing it to the lens and putting it in the cart. You smile and announce the next item.

"Strawberries... you know I was thinking I might get raspberries instead," you say, catching the eye of one of the yawning employees. You must seem like a weirdo. It's why you typically don't film in public.

As you roll around to the fruit, you notice the count change. One viewer. You choose a basket of raspberries and show those. You see a message float up; morning.

You smile and return the greeting softly and place the berries down carefully beside your phone. You need yogurt to go with the berries.

You work down the list, making some substitutes as you tick off each item. You linger in the ice cream section a bit too long and talk yourself out of a gallon of rocky road. You lean on the handle of the cart and smile down at the lens.

"Going to check out," you say, "see you all later."

All? There's still just the one. You end the stream and take your phone out of the basket.

You wheel around to checkout and line up at the only open till. You put your items up as you greet the cashier with a smile. She seems tired as she gives a dull response.

As you put the yogurt on the belt, you sense someone join the queue behind you. You glance over as a large man stands only feet away. He's tall and burly and staring at you. Maybe he heard you talking to your audience, or he would think, yourself. You continue to unload your groceries.

"Never tried those," he comments as you take out a box of strawberry Pocky.

You pause and hold them up, chuckling nervously, as you do.

"Pretty good," you answer, "I eat way too many."

You notice the man doesn't have a basket or a cart. That realisation needles under your skin. Maybe he's just getting lotto or smokes?

"You like sweet stuff."

"Too much," you squeak even though it doesn't sound like a question.

He just stares, not saying a word. You swallow tightly and pull the last few items out of the cart and get behind it to wheel it through the lane. As you do, he looms closely, adding to the sweat gathering on your lower back.

You roll along and wait for the cashier to ring through the rest of your things. She bags them up neatly in two large paper bags. You pay with your card and thank her as you lift the first into your cart. The man behind you moves forward and grabs the second, startling you.

"Got it," he says as he places it with the other, squeezing by you, crowding you.

"Oh, excuse me, sir," you stammer, "oh," you lean on the cart to roll it to the end of the lane as you make space between you and the stranger. "Thanks, er, uh... thanks."

You turn and grab the handle, jittering. He's really weirding you out. Especially as you realise he's walked right by the cashier. He's following you.

"I can help get ‘em in your car," he offers in a drawl.

"Oh, that's alright, I... bus," you cringe as you realise you've said too much.

"I could drive you. I have a truck."

"No thank you," you walk faster, the cart rattling with your pace.

"Why not?"

"I don't know you, erm, sorry--"

"You don't?" He catches up and shoves his phone in your face, your Insta profile glaring back at you, "I paid for the milk, maybe the berries..."

"What?" You stop, just by the door and turn to him. "I don't--"

"You haven't eaten, have you? I'll take you for French toast. That's your favourite."

"Um," you blink at him as your eyes tinge, "I don't..."

"You got me through a hard campaign, just wanna say thank you," he adjusts his cap and you notice the pin on it. He's a veteran. Oh, 'campaign'. 

“Just got back home," he shifts on his feet, a meek gesture for such a large man, "and... your videos helped me remember it. Helped me hold onto it in the sh-- in the stuff."

"I... wow, okay, that's... I'm glad I could do that."

"I really don't mind giving you a ride. Lots of weirdos on the bus," he insists.

"That's nice but--"

"Please," he softens his tone, "been a while since I sat down and had breakfast without worrying about the sky falling."

You shudder and grip the cart tight. You don't know how to say no. You didn't think about who was watching. You always just assumed they were bots. Then you think of the chaching noise and the amount flashing on the screen.

"BourbonBear?" You ask.

"Yeah," he cracks a crooked smile and smooths his hand over his thick beard. "Everyone calls me Syv.”

#dark!captain syverson #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #follow you anywhere #sandcastle #captain syverson #dark captain syverson #captain syverson x reader

[4ngel-inc]

here's the thing about osamu dazai . . . ੭ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

osamu has a lot of love in his heart, and one of his greatest desires is to just feel wanted—it's something he didn't even realize he needed until he met you. it's like there was a gaping hole in his heart before you came into his life, and he was sure there was nothing that could fill the void—oda had told him long ago, you won't find what you're looking for. . . and he'd accepted that. but the least he could do was help people—he felt he was accomplishing that much, or at least working, little by little, toward what his friend's dying wishes were.

but he was still just floating, never quite sure where to turn when his emotions crept up on him, though he tried to press them down for as long as possible—tried to lock them away in a dusty room or at the bottom of a lake, his only friend his approaching shadow as he sank to the bottom, hoping to find peace at last.

if he could't fill the void, he'd escape it entirely.

losing things he loved—people he loved—was always hard for him. he was almost afraid to care for anything, like it was an omen of death placed unfairly upon others.

and when he found you, it was like a weight lifting slowly—his trust first seeping from his soul, before pouring out of his veins like the blood he'd wished he could drain from his body entirely, if only to spare him the pain of another loss—another disappointment in a search that always revealed itself to be fruitless, returning with a hollow soul once again—the same one that make him sick with shame.

the first time you had sex, osamu felt like he was more than his body—this was more than love. you never judged him for wanting to die, never questioned his motives past a surface-level conversation, only reassuring him there were beautiful things to live for all around him, just waiting to be discovered—if only he could see past his misery for a singular moment. if he could stop and breathe, and take it all in.

but if he never did, if he chose to continue living exactly the way he was when you met him—you'd never leave. you promised him that much.

say you'll never leave.

the words were whispered in your ear each time he reached his climax. you wondered if he even realized he was saying them anymore, it was such an everyday occurrence—he was so caught up in the feeling of being close to you—he loved your skin, your hair, your eyes, your perfume. your mind intrigued him, he would never tire of listening to the thoughts and ideas you created in your consciousness, letting them drift and fill the space between you.

your words were a gift. your touch was a treasure to him.

"promise me you'll never leave," the words often tickled your neck as his breathing grew faster and more desperate for release—sparking goosebumps across your skin as he moaned your name.

"don't leave- don't leave- never leave me." tears often threatened to spill from his eyes as he neared his climax—and sometimes they did—the little droplets on your neck only reminding you how real life was, how painful it could be, and only bringing you closer to your release.

the same way he valued you, his heart was your greatest treasure.

"i won't. i'm yours. i'm here."

"fuck-i'm coming." sometimes it sounded like pain, rather than pleasure—a suspended solution of pure bliss at your existence and the dread of how open he was with you, how dangerous it was to have his entire heart in your hands.

his love for you just overflowed each time you held him, every way that you touched him—the way you simply wanted him had his toes curling as he filled you each time, reaching as deep as possible, desperate to keep you close.

he only hoped putting everything on the line for you would be enough to make you stay. he could hide in those moments of closeness with you forever, abandoning anything and everything else for a taste of the happiness he felt with you—whatever it took to make you as happy as you made him, he'd do anything.

he'd cross any line. he'd leave his heart open, bruised, and bleeding for you. anything for you.

⊹ ֗ ꫂ

#— love notes: [dazai] ୧ ‧₊ #dazai x reader #osamu dazai x reader #bsd x reader #bsd smut #bsd fluff

[happy74827]

Emptiness Renewed

[Mike Schmidt x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: You figured all your concerns would go away now that you had the assurance with Mike, but the truth was… they weren’t disappearing. Not until you won and healed the relationship of your old friend, who happened to be his sister. {GIF credits: @owenhcrper}

WC: 2,733

Category: Lime/Steamy, Comfort, Slight Fluff

A lot of you wanted a sequel to “Fill the Void,” so here it is! You don’t have to read the first part, this can be read as a stand-alone, but if you want you can find the first part here

『••✎••』

Your hands found Mike’s waist and held on tight. His mouth was on yours, soft and sweet, his hand at the nape of your neck holding you in place as he kissed you over and over. He was all you could see, taste, and smell, and your whole body tingled with how good it felt. You were lost in the kiss, his mouth making promises of what was to come, and the warmth in your belly was growing.

When he pulled back you were dazed and breathless, and you blinked slowly at him.

He gave you a crooked smile, a rare thing that always made you melt, and his hand slipped down to cup your jaw. "I missed you."

You were still floating, your whole being focused on his hand at your cheek and his lips that you were missing already.

"I missed you too," you managed, and you saw the smile in his eyes before his mouth covered yours again.

He tasted like sweat and coffee, but the way his tongue slipped between your lips, hot and eager, made your whole body sing. Your arms slid up and around his neck, and his fingers tangled in your hair.

The kiss went on and on, the two of you breathing each other in, his arms tightening around you until he was pulling you closer. His skin was damp against your shirt, and his sweaty hair brushed against your face, but you didn’t care. You were lost in Mike's kisses and the way he made you feel, and if he wanted to keep kissing you like this all day, you would let him.

It was hard to believe you had been kissing for five minutes. It felt like hours, like years. The feeling of him pressing you back against the bed as he kissed you, the way your pulse pounded as his mouth explored your throat, his warm body covering yours and his hands exploring your body, made time slip away. It felt like nothing else mattered.

Mike was everything you thought about for weeks, and he was there with you, all yours. You hadn't even managed to get your shoes off yet and you didn't care. You were wearing clothes you didn't even like, but that seemed insignificant compared to what you had in your arms. You didn't want to think about anything else.

Your hands slid under the sweaty shirt clinging to his back, feeling the warm, smooth skin over his back and his muscles flexing under your fingers. His hips rolled against you and your eyes closed at how good it felt. His mouth found yours again, his kiss hard and fast, his tongue dipping inside your mouth. His hands slid under your shirt, fingertips brushing over your skin, making your skin burn.

“Did you have that talk with Abby?” You whispered against his lips, your hands stopping to rest on his shoulders. You knew this wasn't the right time to ask, but it had been bothering you ever since that day in his room.

Mike's eyes flickered open, his dark gaze focused on your face. His hands slid up to cup your cheeks. "It's not really a talk when she just yells at me," he replied, and you had a feeling he was just trying to make you feel better.

"Did she?" You couldn't help but smile.

Mike's gaze shifted from your eyes, down your neck and to your chest, where he rested his forehead against you. You let out a small, nervous laugh, but his silence was starting to worry you. "Mike?"

He gave a small shake of his head. "It's not a big deal."

"Did she give you a time-out?" You joked, trying to lighten the mood, but when Mike's eyes closed, your stomach sank.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, and your hands slid out from under his shirt and into his hair. "Mikey?" You asked softly.

His dark hair was mussed up from your hands and he sighed. He lifted his head to look at you again, and his lips were pulled down into a frown. "She told me she didn't want me to date you," he finally replied, and you felt your chest tighten.

"Why?" Your voice was so quiet, so unsure, and Mike's expression softened. His thumb brushed over your cheek. Not that it was what you wanted to hear, but at least it wasn't the 'I can't be with you' that you were almost expecting.

Mike's gaze flickered away again, as if he were trying to think of what he could say that wouldn't hurt your feelings. He wasn't going to be able to come up with anything.

"She really does just hate me," you said, more to yourself than Mike, and you could feel the tears pricking at the backs of your eyes. You were too scared to look at him, so you just focused on his hair in your hands. You ran your fingers through it, smoothing it out.

Mike shook his head. "She doesn't hate you. I know she doesn’t."

"Yeah, that’s what you said earlier." You pulled your hands from his hair and held them at your chest. "Why else would she say that?"

Mike let out a long breath. He closed his eyes, and his thumb stroked your cheek again.

"I don't know,” he whispered. He was so quiet you almost missed it. “But what I do know is that I’m not listening to her."

“Abby isn’t going to appreciate that.” You knew she wasn't. It wasn't Abby you were worried about though. You were worried about your relationship with Mike. You didn't want it to be ruined because of something that Abby couldn't seem to let go of.

Mike sighed again, and his fingers brushed your jaw as he moved in close. His hand slid behind your head as he pressed his forehead to yours. "I don't care," he whispered.

"Abby-" You tried to argue, but Mike interrupted.

"She’ll come around eventually," he assured you, though he sounded unsure. He brushed his lips over your cheek. "I have faith in you," he whispered against your ear.

“That’s a lot of faith given how she treated me when you left for work. I’m surprised I got out unscathed,” you said with a forced laugh, but you could feel the small smile on his lips against your cheek.

He pulled back, but kept his hands on your cheeks, his gaze moving from your eyes to your lips. "I was worse, remember? I almost ran you over by how agitated and tired I was."

You laughed, but the memory still made you shiver. "That is true."

He leaned in again, brushing his nose against yours. “Who would’ve thought I'd end up falling in love with the girl who made me want to rip out my hair and punch holes in walls?"

Your chest tightened again. "Really? I annoy you that much?"

“Like a mosquito, constantly buzzing around my ear." He whispered. His eyes flickered down to your mouth again, and you swallowed the lump in your throat as your heart began to race. “But somehow I can't bring myself to shoo you away."

"Oh gee, I'm so flattered," you said with a laugh, but Mike didn't join you. Instead, he just smirked.

"I think I might like having you around too much," he whispered, his gaze shifting back to your lips again. You could feel his warm breath on your mouth and you forgot how to breathe.

"Too bad Abby doesn't feel the same," you muttered, but Mike just shook his head.

"She's just being a bit protective." He leaned in again, his mouth brushing against yours. Your whole body tingled as you held your breath, and Mike's hands slid to your jaw. His thumbs stroked your cheeks.

"I don't need her protection," he whispered, his voice a deep, husky growl.

You couldn't stop yourself from smiling. "Is that so?"

"Mhmm." His mouth was on yours, his kiss gentle and warm. His fingers ran through your hair as you leaned into it, melting against him as your heart pounded in your chest. His mouth moved to your jaw, and then down your neck. You tilted your head back, your fingers digging into his hair, your lips parting in a gasp as his teeth teased your skin.

He started kissing you again, and you were so caught up in the kiss that you were caught off guard when his hand slid down your thigh. You were still wearing jeans and your shirt, and Mike's hand was suddenly there, tugging at the fabric of your jeans. Your eyes opened, but all you could see was him, his face hovering over you as his dark eyes looked down at your body.

Your chest was heaving as you stared at him, but his mouth was moving to your neck again, your pulse fluttering under his tongue. You felt his fingers in the waistband of your jeans, then sliding inside, and your eyes rolled back in your head at how good it felt.

“What if I drew her a picture? I know Abby loves art." You thought of how you and Abby would spend hours drawing together on her bed when she was younger, back when she actually appreciated you. You thought of her new obsession with painting and how much she loved it, but the idea of drawing a picture for her lured you.

"That's probably not a bad idea," Mike muttered, his hand stopping its movement inside your jeans. The kisses continued down your neck and chest though, and you couldn't help but smile. You missed Abby, missed how your relationship was before. It was hard, but maybe drawing a picture would be a good way to start.

“I could even do the background of the drawing in bright colors.” You knew she loved colors that popped, pink and purple had been her favorite for a while. Maybe upon glancing at it, she’d realize that you indeed cared.

"It sounds like you want to bust out the crayons now," he teased, his voice soft as his mouth trailed over your collarbone.

You rolled your eyes. "Don’t give me any ideas."

Mike just let out a low chuckle. It didn’t bother you that he was completely right, because you did want to actually color, but it mainly just made you wonder what your relationship would be like if you hadn't lost Abby, if she had been your best friend for so many years and not a bitter stranger who would rather ignore you than speak to you.

It made your chest ache, and Mike's lips on your body helped to take your mind off it, but it still weighed down on your chest.

"What if she doesn’t like it? I don’t think I can handle that type of rejection.” You felt so pathetic saying it, but you couldn't stop yourself.

Mike lifted his head. His dark eyes studied your face for a long time, but then he just gave a small smile. "I think she will."

"How do you know that?" You asked. "What makes you so sure?"

"Because she loves you," he said simply, as if he were telling you the sky was blue or the sun was shining outside. You stared up at him, speechless. "She loves you more than anything, and I know she doesn't hate you. I don't believe it for a second."

Your mouth was dry, and your chest felt tight. "Mike-" You started, but he silenced you by covering your mouth with his. The kiss was hard, passionate, and when he pulled away, your breathing was ragged.

"I think you need to start trusting me, trust my judgment," he whispered, and he started kissing you again, his mouth trailing down your neck. His hand slipped under your shirt, his palm sliding up your belly. Your stomach fluttered, but you couldn't take your mind off how you felt, the way it weighed down on you and made your chest hurt.

"What if she does hate me?" You whispered, your voice cracking. Mike stopped, and he rested his chin on your chest. He lifted his gaze to yours.

"I know her," he said. "And I know you."

"That doesn't always mean something." Your voice was barely audible. You let out a long breath. You were trying to think about how to get her to come back to you, but the thoughts were just jumbling in your head. "I'm worried about what I'm going to do if she still won't talk to me. I don't know what that'll mean for me and you."

Mike sat up. His hand rested on your belly. You looked up at him, and his dark gaze studied your face, his eyes filled with concern.

"You have nothing to worry about, okay?" He whispered, leaning in to kiss your forehead. "Everything's going to be fine."

"Mike," you whispered, but he just shook his head.

"I'm serious. I don't care what she says." He cupped your cheek. "But you need to stop worrying about that."

"I can't." You felt so helpless. "You know I can't."

He gave you a sad smile, his thumb brushing over your cheek. He leaned in again, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "I know."

You reached for his hand, but you could feel it starting to shake. You slipped your fingers into his, your thumb running over the back of his hand as you gazed up at him.

He smiled down at you. "But maybe you should start focusing on us instead." He suggested, giving you a mischievous smirk.

"What do you mean?" You asked, your eyes shifting from his mouth to his eyes again.

"Well, I still have about an hour before my shift. Maybe you can keep my mind off work and I’ll keep yours off of Abby."

“That’s…an idea I like," You whispered, and Mike chuckled. He kissed you again, his mouth hot and needy. You were losing your breath again, and he rolled on top of you. Your body was tingling, and you ran your hands up under his shirt to touch his warm skin.

He wasn’t wrong. For that remaining hour all you could think about was him, and he seemed just as focused on you. It actually eased your mind, and when it was over you felt better.

After Mike left for work again, you immediately got started on your little drawing project. You didn't know why it was so hard to just color something, but you were determined. You kept telling yourself Abby would appreciate the effort, and Mike was right, you just had to believe in him.

When Abby returned from school the following day, you were waiting with a smile on your face. It wasn't much, but it was bright and happy. You couldn't imagine it looked good, but at least it was something.

However, Abby didn’t respond. In fact she didn’t even look at the drawing you handed to her. Her face remained blank as she took it and walked away, her shoes echoing down the hall.

Your whole body deflated, and you sunk into the couch. Great, another failed attempt. You thought about calling Mike, but you didn't want to bother him when he was busy, so you just closed your eyes and laid there for a while, wondering how long it would be until he was back from doing errands.

You left his house saddened and disappointed, and you couldn’t even bother to pick up the phone when Mike had called later that day. You just curled up under the blankets in your bed, feeling even more hopeless than before.

Though, if you had picked up that phone, you wouldn’t have been feeling this way because unbeknownst to you, Mike had gone into Abby’s room for a spare pen and discovered that she hadn't thrown out your drawing.

In fact, it was taped to her mirror, where she could see it every time she looked into her own eyes. Underneath it was a crumpled up piece of paper with a crudely drawn stick figure of Mike and a crudely drawn one of you. Both had little hearts next to their faces.

He was totally going to give you the “I told you so” about Abby come tomorrow, but for the time being he just couldn't help but smile.

This was for you guys:

@raviolisblog

@kxllanxtdoor

@nagicats

@auryyz

Hope it met your standards 🫶✨

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt fanfic #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt x female!reader #fnaf #fnaf games #fnaf fic #fanfic #reader #x reader #fnaf movie #five nights at freddys movie #five nights at freddys #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson x reader #michael schmidt x reader #fanfiction #abby schmidt #fnaf fandom #fnaf fanfic #william afton #mike afton #michael afton #fnaf x reader #fnaf x you #michael afton x reader #mike schmidt x yn #fnaf x female reader #female!reader

[krirebr]

What You Can Do for Your Country

Pairing: dark!Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 1916

Summary: Being Captain America is a lot harder than anyone realizes. Steve thinks you might be able to help.

Warnings: Dark elements, kidnapping, face slapping, no smut but heavily implied future noncon, general meaness, explicit language, governmental malfeasance. It's dark, you've been warned. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Divider by @cafekitsune

Masterlist

A/N: I'm not fully sure what happened here. I've been wanting to test out the waters of posting writing here for awhile, but I'd sort of had it in my head that I'd wait for a challenge that spoke to me. This is an idea I've had floating around for awhile and when it finally coalesced into something writable, I thought 'fuck it, why not?' So here we are. I'm kind of terrified that I'm just tossing this into the void, so if you read it and have a sec, please let me know what you think!

You wake up slowly. There's no sound or light, so it takes you a moment to fully realize that you’re even awake. You can't see anything, but you can feel that you're slumped in a corner and that the surface beneath you is hard. You’re definitely not in your room. Where the fuck are you? You try to move into a more comfortable position, and that's when you hear the soft jingle of metal clinking against itself and feel a slight tug on your leg. Your hands immediately go to your ankle, and you find a leather cuff around it, with a chain connected to the wall. You're fully awake now, breaths coming out in short, uneven bursts. Don't panic don’t panic, you try to tell yourself, but that mantra seems to only be making things worse. There's so much to panic about. You reassure yourself that you're still dressed. Things could be worse. The thought strikes you as unbelievably bleak.

You take a deep breath and try to focus. What's the last thing you remember? You were leaving work. The sun was setting, but it wasn’t completely dark yet. A car came up behind you? Or maybe a van? Everything's fuzzy and disjointed when you try to remember anything beyond walking out the door of the coffee shop.

A door suddenly opens into the room, closer than you expected. The space is smaller than you thought. Light floods in from the hallway, blinding you painfully and obscuring the figure stood in the doorway. They flick on a light in the room and the pain in your eyes becomes worse. You cover your face with your hands, trying to lessen the glare and help your eyes adjust. You hear a chuckle from the doorway and slowly look up at the man you can now clearly see. 

It takes a moment to recognize him out of context. But only a moment. It's Captain America. Steve Rogers. You know him. Sort of. He comes into the coffee shop sometimes, since it's right by Avengers Tower. Tall whole milk latte with a sprinkle of nutmeg. He's usually with one of the others. He's nice, tips well, friendly. As friendly as he is with anyone he comes across. It's kind of his whole thing. Of course he's nice to everyone, he's Captain America. Big smile, patriotism, and apple pie. All that jazz. What is going on?

At first, your desperate heart thinks that he must be there to rescue you. But then you actually take him in. He's not in his uniform, but dressed casually, in a white t-shirt and jeans, barefoot, his arms crossed over his massive chest, leaning on the door frame. 

And he's smirking at you. 

"Good, you're awake," Steve says, voice calm and even, but there's a hardness in the way he looks at you that has you trying to cower further into the corner as he approaches. There's nowhere to go and it only takes a few strides for him to get to you. Now that you can see your surroundings, you seem to be in some sort of cleared out walk-in closet. There are bare shelves on the walls and two empty hanging rods line the longer sides of the room. He crouches down in front of you. "I wasn't sure how long you'd be out."

You want to scream at him to let you go, ask what the fuck is going on, something but instead what comes out is a pathetic "Please don’t hurt me!" 

His face completely softens and he coos "Oh sweetheart," as he brushes away a tear you hadn’t realized you'd shed. Maybe you got this wrong. Maybe he is here to help you. Maybe it's going to be al– "What else do you think you're for?"

And then, before you've even had time to process what he's said, he slaps you across the face. Hard enough to make you slump back into the wall, uselessly cradling your cheek, tears streaming down your face freely now. You've seen enough clips on TV to know he didn't put his full strength into it and that, more than anything else that's happened so far, has you so terrified you can barely breathe. 

Steve tips his head back and briefly closes his eyes, growling out an elongated "Fuuck." He touches the hot spot where he hit you and gives a satisfied smile when you flinch and whimper. "I was right," he mutters to himself. "This is exactly what I needed." 

You’ve never really felt like an especially small person, but even crouched like this, he dwarfs you. Up close you’re able to really appreciate how gigantic he is and it makes any fight left in you completely disappear. What are you supposed to do, up against a super soldier?

But you also can’t just completely give in yet, so when his hand starts to wander from your cheek down your neck and to your chest, you do your best to bat it away and put as much strength as you can into your “Don’t touch me!” 

When that same hand comes up to roughly grab your chin, you try to avoid him, but you’re shown once more that there’s really nothing you can do. Steve squeezes cruelly as he says “You are going to figure out very quickly that ‘don’t’ is a word you're not allowed to use with me. Along with no, stop, and wait. You’re mine now and I can do whatever I want with you.” 

He lets go of you with a slight push and the back of your head hits the wall. You let out a whimper and he chuckles again. You finally give into your confusion and let out a quiet “I don’t understand.”

“Oh, I know, sweetheart,” he says, and this time you recognize how that word drips with condescension. “This must be so hard for a stupid little thing like you.” He brushes your hair off your forehead with an exaggerated pout, and you don’t get how this could be the same man that always made a point to ask how your day was going whenever he ordered from you.

He stands up so that he’s truly towering over you now. “You have no idea how hard it is to be Captain America,” he says, “to always be expected to do the right thing, to be good and kind and wholesome,” he snarls the last word. “It’s impossible to keep up without losing your goddamn mind. I can’t just be a symbol of all things patriotic  and virtuous all the time. I’m a real person, not a fucking bald eagle. It's becoming a problem.” He looks down at you and smiles the most terrifying smile you’ve ever seen. “That’s where you come in. There are some days when I just need to hurt something. So now, every bad mood, impure thought or filthy desire I have, I’ll just take it out on you. And then I’ll be able to go back into the world and be the Captain America they need me to be.”

You just stare at him, wondering how you’ve never noticed it before. This man is insane. An actual sociopath. What kind of plan is this? This isn’t– no! “You can’t just do that!” You argue. “I’m a person, too! I have a family, a job, a life! People will notice I’m gone. They’ll come looking for me.” 

Steve laughs outright this time, and it’s startling in how cruel it is. There’s really nothing of the man you thought you knew in the one standing in front of you. He crouches down again and gets so close to you that you can feel his breath. “Oh baby, you really are a dumb bitch, aren’t you?” He turns his head slightly to whisper right in your ear, “Everyone already knows what’s happened to you.” He leans back so that he can see the horror on your face. How is that possible? It can’t be.

“You really think I just grabbed you off the street, all by myself? Oh no honey. I went through official channels for this. I requisitioned you. I meant it when I said it was becoming a problem. I’ve been… slipping, lately. And when I slip, it doesn’t just affect me or my team, but the entire country. It affects the fate of the entire free world. So when the president himself came to me and asked what I needed to get my head on straight, I told him what I’ve told you. A pretty little thing to hurt and I gave him your name. And so you were delivered to me today by a fleet of government vehicles. Your family’s been well compensated. They’ll never have to pay taxes again, for a start. And you, I’ve given you an incredible purpose. A chance to serve your country, a chance to help all of humanity. Everytime I’m able to go out and save the world, it’ll be because you’re here, serving me. You should take pride in that.”

You can’t help starting to cry again. This can’t be true. It just can’t be. Your family can’t have– No. Steve’s lying or they didn’t have a choice or– “Why me?” is all you’re able to eke out from the jumble in your head. 

“Because every time I went into that coffee shop and you looked up at me with those big eyes and that sweet smile, all I could think about was how badly you needed to be ruined. Broken. And how I wanted to be the one to do it.” 

You let out a sob at that. You always thought that when it came down to it, fight was your fear response. But now you understand, you’d never been truly afraid before. In the face of real, hopeless terror, all you can do is freeze. There’s nothing else to do. You can’t fight him. You can’t run. No one is looking for you. You’ve never felt so powerless in your life. You’re pathetic and weak. That’s what Steve saw in you, isn’t it? That’s why you’re here.

“Those tears are so pretty, baby. Got me so fucking hard.” He stands up with a slap to his thighs. “Alright, enough talk. I’ve waited too fucking long for this.” He walks to the opposite wall and gestures to you. “Get up, take off your clothes. I’ve been dreaming about what’s under that uniform.” You cry out and huddle further into the wall, but he clucks his tongue at you. “Trust me when I say that you don’t want me to have to tell you twice.”

You nod needlessly and get up, your legs shaking underneath you. You throw off your shirt just to get it over with and push down your pants until they get stuck on the chain. You pause at your underwear, but a growled out, “Keep going,” has you robotically removing them as well. 

You try to cover yourself, but know that it’s useless. He paces in front of you and groans. “Fuck, you’re so soft. You’re gonna break so good, baby.” He takes off his shirt and throws it on top of your own, his muscles rippling with the movement. You can’t help the whimper that comes out and Steve grins at you as he approaches, hands beginning to unbuckle his belt. “Don’t worry, honey, I’ll teach you exactly how to be the perfect little toy for me.”

#steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #captain america #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #mcu #dark mcu #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #dark fic #kris wrote something #dark!fic

[guccifrog]

WRONG NUMBER P15

matt sturniolo x f!reader

hope u guys are happy now🙄

pov//

Pitch black. That was the only way to describe what I could see. I had no idea where I was, or what the hell was wrong with me. My body felt…off like it wasn't mine. My senses were heightened, my hearing, my sight, my touch. Everything was just…sharper. I felt like I was floating in the void, unable to move or speak or even think.

I tried focusing on what was happening around me, but there was nothing. A strong scent of blood suddenly hit me like a bullet. My blood.Just where the hell was I?

My brain was a foggy mess, struggling to process what was happening around me. I couldn't think or remember anything.

"I thought you may like it"

Huh? What was that?

"you're so hard to buy for, you know that?"

I tried to speak, but nothing came out. An invisible force seemed to tighten its grip on my vocal cords. It was as if my ability to speak was suddenly snatched away.

Panic started to rise in me. Where was I? Who was talking to me?

"I care about you, you know that?"

Without warning a sharp pain erupted behind my eyes, I tried moving my hand to touch my throbbing head, but I just couldn't.

"This is eating me alive Matt. I miss you"

What? Matt? That was my name. Matt.

I tried to remember, anything at all. Images started to flash in my mind, fragmented and incomplete. A face I knew, a room I'd never been in. My name was Matt.

"once you wake up, I'm not going anywhere"

Wake up from what? Who was she? I struggled to recall. My body ached, and my head felt like it was splitting in two.

The voice sounded familiar…so familiar, but I couldn't think of anything. At this point, the pain was getting worse like someone was trying to drill a hole through my skull.

I tried to focus on the voice, to remember who it belonged to, but it was no use. All I could do was lie there, in this pitch-black void, feeling helpless and confused.

"I'll do anything I can to help you get through this, okay? We'll figure it out together."

The voice was soft and reassuring, but I still couldn't remember who it belonged to. I felt a hand on my arm, warm and steady. I wasn't alone. There was someone here with me. But who were they? What was happening to me?

The pain was everywhere, making it impossible to think straight. My vision began to blur, and I struggled to keep my eyes open. I tried to focus on the hand on my arm, but the darkness was overwhelming.

The voice now stopped talking, and the hand on my arm slowly withdrew. I was left alone again, drifting in the blackness. My head was still in pain, and my body ached with every breath I took. I tried to concentrate on something, anything, but the darkness was all-consuming.

My eyes closed shut for a moment, my senses leaving my numb body, I couldn't tell if I was lying down, upright, or spinning.

I forced my eyes open again, wincing against the harsh light. It was no longer dark, instead, there was a bright light blinding me and It took a moment for my vision to adjust.

I was lying on a bed, a plain, white bed. I tried to sit up, but the room spun violently, and I was forced to lie back down.

My head still hurt, and my body ached with every movement. But I was able to take in more of my surroundings.

I look to my right, a small window, The curtains are drawn, casting a faint, grayish light over the room. The walls are painted a dull beige color, and there's a door to the left.

I turn my head slightly, and I see a Girl, sitting in a chair beside the bed. She looked pale and tired, her hair a mess around her shoulders, and she was asleep.

I knew her. That's for sure. I try to remember her name, but it's hazy. I do remember her voice, though. It's the same voice that's been talking to me.

I want to ask her questions, but my voice is still gone and I can't move.

I let my eyes wander around the room, taking in more details. Machines were beeping softly in the background, and there were IV lines connected to both my hands. I tried to raise my left hand, but it was numb and heavy.

I turned to look at the girl again, taking in her features. There was something about her that made me feel safe, despite the unfamiliar surroundings. Her face was soft and innocent, her lips slightly parted as she slept. I wondered how long she'd been here, sitting by my bedside.

My eyes landed on the bedside table, where there were a few items scattered around. A glass of water, some tissues, and a catus? I frowned, wondering what it was doing there.

The girl stirred in her chair, and I turned my head to watch her. She slowly opened her eyes, and they focused on me for a moment before she shoot up, looking alarmed. "Matt? Are you awake?" she asked, her voice trembling.

I tried to nod, but my neck was too stiff. "Yeah…" My voice came out as a croak, but it was a relief to finally speak again.

The girl stared at me, her eyes wide and glossy with tears. "Oh, thank God," she whispered as she chokedbacka sob.

"Don't scare me like that ever again you fucker" she reached over and took my hand, squeezing it gently.

I closed my eyes, relaxing to the feel of her soft hand in mine. "Sorry," I managed to croak. "It's all a bit hazy."

She laughed softly, the sound both melodic and comforting, and it was like music to my ears.

taglist ☆

@mattestrella @chrisfavoritepepsi @sunsetsturniolos @littlebookworm803 @sturniozo @sturniolooooo @athaliahxoxo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ev3rgreenxtrees @nonamegirlxsturniolo @crybabycat1 @mooniethesimp31 @ducksturniolo @ifilwtmfc @pepsiimaxx @sleepysturnss @lustfulslxt @ilovemattsworld @hrt-attack @flowerxbunnie @leprechaunbirthdaygirl @secret-sturniolo @iluvmeeen @that-general-simp @swangelss @familynotfandom @fuckshitslover @styles-sturniolo @lvr-111 @opheliaofficial07 @kiarastromboli @hearts4chriss @braindead4l @sturniolosreads @mattsturnzzz09 @itssophiasstuff @mayhem-72 @b2cute @buckys-celestes @4iriss

#matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #matt #matthew sturniolo x you #matthew bernard sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #christopher owen sturniolo #chris sturniolo x y/n #lets trip tour #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo texts #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fluff #christopher sturniolo texts #let's trip #fresh love

[talks-with-the-void]

Fluid kintypes - identity doesn't need to be static

I used to be a wolf, once. Not in a past-life sense, but in a therian sense - I was a wolf therian and then I wasn't. Sounds weird to you? I'm not surprised!

Something that I have repeatedly been told by other therians and otherkin is "you are what you are and if you find out you are something else - well, then you never were the first thing at all." Especially when I joined the community several years ago, I saw this statement everywhere. But let me tell you: it's not true. I had several different kintypes over the years (side note: we are plural and for the sake of this post I am simplifying some internal structure things. if you want the complicated details, feel free to ask! /gen), started as a wolf therian, then I was a cryptid, a dinosaur, a dragon and some kind of monster. Now I am Khhanivore (from Love, Death and Robots) and Mewtu (from Pokemon, Mewtu is the German spelling) - and a raptor kintype is coming back. (I am also a werewolf, but that's not a kintype, that's just Purely Me And My Whole Essence)

"Okay Istasha, but isn't that just questioning or maybe flickertypes?", you might ask. Fair point, but no.

I honestly never really questioned my kintypes - if I truly question something, it turns out to either be a hearttype or Nothing at All. As for kintypes, I just know - all of us just know what we are, it's like chilling and one day, suddenly, one of us is like "oh, I am a horse. alright, carry on" and that's it. Our kintypes stay with us for several months at least, theoretically they could stay forever but tend to change along the way - which brings me to the next point. They aren't flickertypes either. We only really get fictionflickers and sometimes animalflickers and those are extremely short and always tied to media we are currently consuming - they feel, technically, like kintypes to me. For example, if I watch a lot of Supernatural, I sometimes get an intense feeling of belonging there, of being a non-canon character, of being part of the story, etc. I am this non-canon character in that moment, I might even get pseudo-memories or shifts, but as soon as I don't engage with that show too much again, it instantly fades.

Our kintypes don't work like that. Take my re-emerging dinosaur kintype as an example. I was walking somewhere a few days ago and suddenly had a pahntom sensation in my legs and feet and in the same moment I knew "ah shit, new kintype". I gave it a day because maaayyybe it's nothing? But deep down I already knew what was going on, so I have an Utahraptor kintype now. I am this. I identify as this through and through and it feels like I've always been this way. But it wasn't - a week ago I wasn't a dinosaur and now I am. I did not choose it, I did not engage with any dinosaur media at all, it just happened.

My kintypes have always been changing and trust me when I say I had a complete identity crisis when my wolf kintype first went away. But over the years Ive learned to accepot it - my identy is not static, it never was and it never will be and that's okay!

It doesn't make my kintypes less important or less real and it also doesn't mean I never was a wolf. I was. And then I wasn't.

I honestly think it is so, so damaging to still have this "kintypes are static"-sentient floating around in the community, because that's simply not true for all of us. For me, it honestly even makes more sense this way. Our brain has always been unstable, I lacked a true identity for so long. We grew up with untreated BPD andf although the symptoms are 95% under my control now (read: it's in remission), our brain still has a ton of habits from that time, like clinging onto different things to try and form an identity, to try and fill the void where a person should be. And the fact that the void is filled now, that I finally am enough of a person to fill it, this habit never changed. Our brain still randomly grabs things and makes them one of us, leading to fluid kintypes.

Let me end this with saying: being wrong about a kintype is fine. Figuring out you are X instaed of Y and never were Y is fine. But it is also fine to be X today and Y tomorrow.

I think I've said this before but I'll say it again: we, as a community, need to take our identities less and more serious at the same time. Let's stop the gatekeeping and policing others, let's stop overanalyzing ourselves so much. Let's stop looking for rules and asking "is it possible to be this?" over and over again - because the answer is yes. There are literally no rules as to how, why and what you can be. In order to be otherkin you need to do exactly one thing: identify as The Thing in question. Nothing else. On the other hand, we need to kindly educate those who confuse identify as and identify with, we need to kindly educate young therians who "choose their theriotypes", we need to make sure we are not watered down to being "a fun thing you can do".

I sometimes feel like the focus and effort of this community is in good faith but in the wrong place - static kintypes is one of them.

There are no limits. Be who you are today and if you are something else tomorrow, be that then. <3

#alterhuman #otherkin #alterhumanity #nonhuman #nonhumanity #plurality #psychological otherkin #therian #fluid kintypes