#or b) go all in and make this a horror story to the end. give them destiel and make it exactly as fucked and miserable as it would

[quietwingsinthesky]

went into the notes of that poll going around about if people want more seasons of supernatural and was immediately slapped in the face with how different my priorities are in this fandom from. a lot of it. what are you talking about ‘destiel endgame’. girl the show has bigger problems to fix than that if it ever had more seasons. they taught a three year old that the best way to be loved was to continuously try to kill himself and then they made him god.

#i can’t honestly imagine any world where there’s destiel and its like. satisfying. in any way. #as in: your options here are a) ignore the last seasons of dean. not treating cas very well to put it bluntly. you’d just have to ignore #that and go straight to They’re Fine :) Happy Ending which is. what i am picking up that the people on that poll want. #or b) go all in and make this a horror story to the end. give them destiel and make it exactly as fucked and miserable as it would #realistically be. and then that whole side of the fandom would be mad because toxic gay people shouldn’t exist actually. too complicated. #and the thing is that neither of these are at all satisfying. the second one is better. but its still. bad. #im being serious here im not trying to beat down on this. i genuinely cannot see a way. with the last few seasons setting things up the way #they did. that destiel endgame would make anyone happy. or be good. at all. #anyway like i said there’s bigger problems. new god went through years of child abuse and believes he deserved it because he was born wrong. #look me in the eyes and try to tell me this will lead to a good outcome. jack is about to do godstiel arc 2 except he won’t explode from it. #he is about to kill so many people who are Bad. and not see why that would be wrong to do. #okay im done im done i swear

[anemptypuddingcup]

Say that you love it.

Portgas D. Ace x Chubby Female Reader.

Request from @iceddragonfruit

I sadly did not include the stalking aspect due to the way I wrote the story, I apologize sweetheart. I hope you’ll like this though.

Contains: !!DARK CONTENT AHEAD!! Consensual non-consent. Non-con roleplay. Breaking in. Sex in the shower. Meanie Ace. Oral (Reader receiving). Forced orgasms. Ace apologizing for being so rough afterwards. Written to make it seem like it’s not roleplay (even though it is, I promise it is). Ace legitimately thought up the entire plan of the role-play- the ending’s a little whack but…yeah. Sit back n’ relax.

He had been with you for a very long time. Being your boyfriend, Ace was always close to you considering the relationship you both had with each other. He adored how pretty you were, you were so adorable with your chubby little body. He adored how chubby you was, how his eyes could always peek at the extra fat and skin you had on your body. If you didn’t like it about yourself, Ace certainly loved it.

Though sometimes Ace he wished that he could be more to you. He wished that he could do more to you rather than receive and give a simple hug and kiss. He wanted more from you, he really wanted more of you. He craved and yearned to touch your skin, to touch and bite into you like the hungry man he was. He wanted to hear your moans and your cries, begging for him to keep going while he smooched and bit at your skin-

“Ace? Ace baby are you okay?” You call out to Ace, tapping his shoulder while he stared off into space. The tv blared brightly as the horror movie played, the sound of screams echoing throughout the living room as you both watched a poorly shot massacre on screen.

He blinks before staring down at you, realizing that he was daydreaming again. “Hm? Ah- Y-Yeah I’m fine.” He says, smiling to you. You give him a rather worrisome look, your hands cupping his face and pulling him closer to yours. A deep blush dusts his freckled face as he stares into your eyes.

“Are you sure…?” You asked him, giving him a little pout. He nods and smiles, pressing his hand against yours. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Really I’m alright.” He reassured you, nuzzling his nose against yours. You smile softly and press a smooch to his lips, your hand trailing up to his soft raven strands.

“I’ve been thinking about something baby…That’s all.” Ace continues, his eyes looking into yours. “Hm? What you’ve been thinkin’ about?” You ask him, your brows raising out of curiosity. Ace glances over and gets quiet before smiling nervously to you. “Ahh it’s nothing important, just something small baby~” He lies to you, pressing a smooch to your temple as he rested a hand to your thigh. You smile softly and shake the thought away, if it was something small it obviously wasn’t serious…right?

“Ah alright~ Well if you don’t want to watch the movie, we can always do something else~” You giggled.

Ace perks up at your words.

“Something else?” He asked, his brows raising in interest at your words and the slyness leaking in your voice. You smile and press your hands to his shoulders, bitting your soft glossy lip as you stared into his eyes. Ace’s breath hitches as he gets a grasp on your hips and slides you onto his lap, your weight against him already beginning to arouse him.

“Hah- B-Baby!~“ Ace stammered, his face turning a cherry red as you felt his hands slide up along your soft skin. You mewl out and nodded, moving your face closer to his. A heavy sigh leaves Ace and he moves in and smushes his lips against yours so suddenly. You moan out against his lips as he quickly slid his tongue past yours, hungry for your taste as he dominates your lips pretty quickly.

“Mmgh~ Oh fuck~ Your lips feel so fucking amazing~” Ace moans, his hands sliding and scratching along your back. You mewl out against him and grind your hips into his crotch, your body needy for both him and his cock.

Bzzzt.

Bzzzt.

A sudden vibration against your thigh makes you moan out and pull away from his lips, a gasp leaving both you as a string of saliva spilled from your lips. He sighs out heavily before reaching for his phone.

Fucking hell. Who could be calling him right now? And at this time of the night.

It was his little brother calling to see where he was. Ace sighs heavily before he picks up the phone, staring at you as his brows begins to furrow from anger.

You slowly slide off of his lap and his leg begins to shake from anger..

“Yes Luffy?”

“Ace! Where ya at righ’ now?”

“What do you want, I’m kinda busy. I swear if it’s something about you being hungry-“

“I’m hungry Ace, I promise I’ll pay ya back-“

Ace groans out heavily and you could see his beginning to shake even more while he gripped his phone a bit tighter.

Fuck. If only Luffy had called Sabo instead of him.

Ace hangs up the phone before Luffy could say anything else. You could tell just by his eyes that he was absolutely pissed. “A-Ace? Everything alright?” You asked him, pressing your hands to his shoulders once again. “I’ll be back.” He sighs heavily, shoving you off of him and standing up from the couch before walking out of the house without another word.

You pouted as you sat there frozen on the couch, a bit upset that he didn’t say bye or anything else. You shrugged it off and sighed as you stood up off of the couch. “Well…I guess I’ll shower…if he doesn’t come back tonight I’ll see him again tomorrow.” You huffed, walking out of the living room and leaving the tv on. You made sure to lock the door before walking down the hall, knowing Ace could probably call you if he needed to be let in.

You slowly trail down the hallway and into your bedroom to grab some pajamas and a towel before walking into the bathroom. You pull a rag from the bathroom cabinet before turning the shower on, waiting for the water to get warm.

…

Ace slowly pulls back up into the driveway, sighing out as he pressed his head up against the wheel. He was nearly there, so close to feeling your soft and warm body against his before you both finally melted into an embrace. It pissed him off so badly. Even though there were plenty more times, this was the absolute perfect time for you and him to finally get it on and have sex with each other.

It really angered him but he tried his best to calm himself down.

He steps out of the car and closes the door beside him before walking over to the front door, reaching his hand out for the knob. Wiggling it his brows raise in surprise before he grits his teeth.

You locked the goddamn door. Which made him even more upset.

He was impatient and eager to get his hands on you, and at this point he was prepared to do just about anything to get what he wants.

He slowly steps back and away from the door before turning around and walking around your home. His eyes lands on a window which happened to lead to your bedroom. He smiles slyly and removes the screen before sliding the window up. He slowly climbs in, sliding the window down behind him as he begins to perk up. The sound of the shower running made him grin even wider, his tongue trailing along his lips as he begins pulling his clothes off piece by piece staring with his hat.

Naked and with his hard cock out, he trails along the carpet as he slowly walks over to your bathroom door. He slowly turns it open, his eyes immediately landing on your beautiful body as he watched you wash and cover yourself in soapy suds.

He slowly trails in and steps into the shower with you, pressing his hands against your hips and startling you in the process.

“Ah!-“

“Baby girl…Why’d ya lock the door?”

Your body trembled as you slowly turn and look up to Ace who had more than just a harmless little smile across his face. Your body shuddered as you stepped back and away from him, your back pressing against the cold tile wall behind you and beneath the shower head.

“A-Ace- Ace baby are you okay? H-How did you even get in here?-“ You ask him nervously, stumbling and tripping over your words and fear began to overtake your body and voice

“Don’t worry about how I got in here.” He interjects, his eyes cold and piercing into your soul with his glare.

You fall silent and purse your lips, a whimper leaving you as he stepped closer to you. He presses his body up against yours, his strong arms wrapping around your cute and chubby body and buries his face deep into your neck. He groans out shakily and you held out as you felt something hot and hard against your cunt.

You quickly peer down and begin to panic, the sight of his hard dick against you making you whine out and in disbelief and displeasure. “Shh shh, calm down.” He demanded of you, his hands cupping your face and making you look up at him.

His face is what bothered you most, a sigh of insanity and yet at the same time pleasure in his eyes. He moves in closer to you and slams his lips against yours, pulling your face up closer and causing you to stand up on your tip-toes.

You gasp out and begin to struggle, your hands clawing at his sides while you tried to break from his grasp. The warmth of his tongue against your made you mewl out while at the same time whimpering. You whine out shakily into the kiss, your legs growing shaky as you struggled to keep yourself balanced on your flat feet. You feel Ace’s nails scratch against your back, pulling you closer to his body as he trails his lips away from your lips and down your neck.

“Mmh- A-Ace baby~ W-Wait p-please- hold on!” You begged, trying to push him away from you. His eyes glares up as you before he slams you against the cold tile, making you gasp out painfully. He grips your wrists with one hand and pulls them over your head, a whine leaving you as you struggled against him. “Hush baby hush~ Stop struggling. If you keep struggling I can’t make you feel good~” Ace whispers to you, giving you a sly smirk.

You legs trembled as you shuddered, struggling on your tip-toes as Ace kept you up on your feet. “I-I-I don’t want to feel good right now!” You whimper out, your lips quivering as your eyes grew soft and timid on his large frame. Ace freezes and chuckles before pressing his body up nice and tight against yours. You felt his strong chest smush your breasts, a bit of pain beginning to fade in from how tender and soft they were.

“Well baby…I want to feel good. I’ve waited for so long…too long to feel your body, to taste it, to fucking touch it the way I wanted to.”

The more Ace spoke the more your eyes widens out of fear.

“A-Ace…” You call out his name shakily, slowly turning your head away from him as hot tears pricks at your eyes. “Aw what’s wrong baby? Why’re you about to cry?” He asks, laughing and teasing you with the tone of his voice. You pout before letting out a little whimper, your arms growing a bit sore from him hold them up in the process. “Cmon baby, don’t be like that~ I just want to feel you…I want to feel you against me~” Ace huffs out, his body now shuddering against yours while he began to grow more impatient and feral.

You didn’t answer him and instead you lay there against his warm body, his hot and sticky cock between your legs and against your pussy. A gasp leaves you as you felt Ace beginning to grind his hot length along your pussy, the warmth somewhat causing you to tremble. You hear Ace sigh out heavily before he lays his head against your shoulder, his hand releasing your wrists and pressing onto the soft sides of your body.

He continued to grind his cock into your thighs, sliding his length back and forth along your clit. You whimper out and turn away from him, the pleasure causing your body to go against yourself. “A-Ace~ G-Get off-“ You gasp out, your body shuddering as he continues to grind his length along your pussy and stimulate your clitoris. “Hah~ You feel so fucking good~ Your pussy’s so warm and it’s dripping for me~” Ace sighs out, his tongue trailing across his lips as he stares down at you hungrily.

You watch as he gets down on his knees, his hands keeping you in place and up against the wall before he placed your thick thighs onto his shoulders. You push his head away as he tried to get a taste of your pussy, your hand practically gripping his hair to pull him away.

You feel him scratch against the soft skin of your thighs and you mewl out as he quickly dips his face between your thighs, his tongue sliding along your slit and making you gasp out before whining.

“N-No! NO! A-ACE- MMGH~” You shut your eyes tightly as you felt Ace suck on your clit, his tongue rolling and circling along your sensitive pearl. You whine out as you struggle to pull him away from your cunt, the feeling of his tongue pleasurable for both you and your body.

You wanted to deny it.

You had to deny it.

“So good~ So fucking good aintcha ________?” He snarls out, the sounds of his slurping your pussy making your face turn a bright red. Your toes began to curl and you move and tussle around, trying to break free of his lips and his tight grasp. He pulls away and moves your body from the wall, allowing you to try and jump out of the tub.

“Ah ah- Where you going?” He asks firmly, pulling your thigh and slamming you down against the tub floor. You yelp out painfully, feeling the pain lingering within your back as he pushed your thighs up. You yell out in painful frustration as you feel him shove his tongue past your entrance, tasting your warm pulsating walls while you begin to flail around.

“No no no- No Ace! Let go!~ Mmh!~ L-Let go!” You cry out, struggling while his strong hands kept your thighs up. You begin to huff out as you felt your orgasm growing close, your body beginning to squirm around beneath his lips.

You didn’t want this.

Fuck, you didn’t want this at all.

“A-Ace! Ace stop it! Please Ace!” You begged, a whine falling after as you whine out. Ace just chuckles into your pussy and peeks up at you, his tongue going deeper and practically kissing your g-spot. “No god no! No Ace please!” You groan out angrily yet defeatedly, your hands pushing his head away. He slaps your hand away swiftly before gripping your hips so tight that they’d hurt.

“Cum on my fucking tongue, I know you want to.” He demanded, slapping your ass in the process and making you moan out. You whimper as you continue to push him away, your back arching as you gasp out in pleasure. “I-I Ah~ I don’t wanna cum! I-I don’t want to!” You whine out, biting your bottom lip tightly as you felt your orgasm growing close. Ace chuckles before dragging his tongue along your slit repeatedly, making you whine and cry out.

“Fuck! N-No no! Oh my god!~ O-Oh god I’m c-cumming!~”

Your face scrunches up tight and your eyes cross as you feel yourself squirting out onto Ace’s tongue. Your heavy gasps leaving you as tears began to stream down your face. “Good girl, good fucking girl. Cum on my tongue baby~” Ace huffs out, suckling all the sticky sweet cum from your slit.

You whimper out and breathe heavily, very tired as your body began to grow so weak from your orgasm.

Ace licks his lips before he continues to suckle at your clit, gently yet at the same time roughly circling his tongue around your sensitive pearl. You whine out shakily as your hand reaches out for his head once again, wanting him to just finally let up and get off of you. But your attempt was meaningless as he shoved your hand away once again, making you let out a little cry.

Your thighs trembled and twitched while you squirm around beneath him. A sigh of relief finally left you as you watch Ace pull away from your cunt, his hand still tight against against your hips to prevent you from leaving. “Ace- Ace I don’t want to do this anymore-“

“Aw baby, you keep acting like you don’t want it. You don’t have to keep lying to me.”

“Dammit Ace! I don’t want this! I don’t want to keep doing this, I don’t want to fuck right now!”

Ace enjoyed your begging tone and your sad and tear-soaked expression, cupping your sticky face as his full on ignores your words. “Well you don’t have much of a choice anymore baby? So you might as well stop crying and get ready for me to pound your cute and adorable little pussy of yours~” Ace chuckles, both his face and his tone darker than before.

You squeak out and you felt his cock slide along your slit, a shaky whimper leaving you as you tried to sit yourself up. Ace pins you down against the floor of the tub, a hiss leaving him as he pressed his tip against your entrance. He slides his thumb against your clit and hums out in ecstasy, anticipating the feeling of your cunt around his hot length.

“I’m going in baby…” He whispers to you, pressing his lips up against your neck while he slowly begins to slowly slide inside of your cunt. You gasp out sharply as you felt him thrust sudden and hard into your pussy, a whine leaving you as his tip kissed your cervix a bit too deep. He groans out heavily and bites his lower lip tightly, pumping into your cunt a few times to get a better angle.

You moan out unconsciously as he begins to pound into your cunt, your hands balling up into fists as he kissed all of the right spots forcefully. “Fuck you feel so good~ Your pussy’s so fucking perfect~” Ace hisses out against you, his lips trailing along your soaking skin. “Fuck~ H-Hah!~” You gasp out as you looked into Ace’s eyes, the pleasure making your mind and pussy melt from Ace’s cock.

You mewl out heavily as he kept you pressed down into the tub, your toes curling while he shoved his cock so deep inside of your pussy. “See? Look at you moaning like my good little slut. Your pussy loves my cock so deep inside doesn’t it baby?” Ace whispers to you, teasing you and making you whine against him.

“Mmgh~ N-No i-it doesn’t!~ Ah!~” You moan out suddenly, your eyes rolling as he shoved himself deeper into your cunt. Hearing those words makes Ace more feral, his breaths heavy as his hips now slaps sloppily against yours. You whimper out and begin to squirm, the tip of his cock continuously kisses your cervix.

“Hah~ Fuck~ Your pussy is so fucking good~ You keep telling me you don’t like it but your pussy is so honest baby~ Fuck it’s so good~” Ace buries his face deep into your neck, his scruff scratching slightly against your skin and making you shiver.

You couldn’t really do anything.

All you could do was sit there and take his thick cock like his good little woman.

Complaining and crying wasn’t going to help at all.

You feel Ace move up farther against you, sitting up and gripping your thighs tightly as he proceeds to thrust deep and shallow far into of you. You couldn’t help but to moan and gasp out, hell you felt yourself growing breathless from his thrusting. “Mmgh! N-No! N-Not deeper!~” You groan out, your teeth now clenching tightly as you felt him digging against your cervix. It was to the point where you felt him pushing in past your cervix.

“Hah fuck~ I’m close baby~ I’m gonna cum inside of you~ I’m filling you up!~” Ace gasps out, his thrusts increasing in momentum. Your eyes widens as you heard those words and you felt your heart nearly fall into your stomach. “No! Ace no please!- DON’T CUM INSIDE!-“ You cry out, your body now struggling to get him off of you once again. Ace chuckles and gives you a sharp thrust making you gasp out in slight pain.

“Aww don’t be like that baby, didn’t you say you always wanted a baby?~” Ace whisper into your ear, a chuckle leaving him after. You began hyperventilating as tears pricked at your eyes. “I didn’t mean now! Please Ace don’t cum inside of me.” You whimpered to Ace, begging him to just cum outside of your pussy.

Ace wasn’t gonna listen. Why not just impregnate you now so you could be together forever?

Ace continues fucking into your pussy with full force while you whine and gasp out in pleasure and emotional pain. Your walls tighten around his cock once again, your voice growing more vocal as you felt your orgasm rushing up. “Mmgh~ Mmh! F-Fuck!~” You gasp out, tears rolling down your face as you felt yourself ready to cum on his cock. Ace smiled at your broken face before pressing his lips against yours, moaning into the kiss as his thrusts grew faster.

“Mmh~ Fuck baby~ I’m so close~” He groans out into the kiss, his brows furrowing as he his cock begins to twitch inside of you. You whine out as your walls flutter around his cock and you feel your body beginning to shudder against him. “Fuck fuck! Oh god!~” You arch your back and gasp out, squirming while you turned your head away from Ace.

Ace grabs your chin and pulls your face back towards his direction, wanting to see your cumming face while you whine out. “N-No- Mmgh! F-Fuck no!” You gasp out, sniveling while your toes began to curl once again. “Ah! N-No! A-Ace!~” You moan out heavily as your cunt spasms around his length, squirting out into his lower abdomen whine you whine out in painful pleasure. Ace laughs and mewls at your cute little face, a slight groan leaving him as he was ready to pump his seed deep inside of you.

He humps into your pussy a few more times, a few overstimulated mewls leaving your lips. “Gonna- Gonna fill you up! I-I’m gonna fill you up baby!~” Ace huffs out, his eyes rolling as his thrusts went at an immaculate pace. “A-ACE N-NO!-“ You whine out heavily as you felt his hot seed shoot deep inside of you, filling up your insides so wonderfully. Ace sighs out exhaustively as he came into your cunt, grinding his cock against your cervix just a bit to make sure.

You breathe heavily against him, your legs trembling from your orgasm. Ace heaved against you, breathing heavily and sighing out as he rested himself against your body. You whine and rub your eyes, wiping away your tears and looking down at him. Ace peeks up at you and then he looks away nervously.

“Ah…Baby? Are you alright?”

You peer up at Ace who gives you a worrisome expression. You giggled at his concern and give him a smooch to his temple. “I’m fine baby, are you?” You ask him, blinking blankly at him. He nods and hugs your tightly, pulling you close so that there wasn’t any space between you both.

“M’sorry. I think I got carried away..” He apologized, nuzzling against your skin. “It’s fine baby, I honestly enjoyed it. I didn’t expect you to be so rough though~” You giggle, your hand reaching up to his wet raven strands. He releases your legs and pulls back, a little groan leaving him as he pulls out. He watched as his cum spilled out of your pussy and you blush.

“Turn the shower off Ace-“ You tell him, struggling to sit yourself up. He pulls you up and hold on to you, pulling you close. “Why should I? We’re still dirty silly~ We might as well sit here and shower.” Ace says, looking around for the soap. You chuckle and lay your head against his chest and he looks down at you before quirking a brow.

“Hehe, I liked how you faked the phone call and break in Ace..” You giggle to him. He chuckled and rubs the back of his neck his neck, a little flush across his freckled face. “Was the phone call with Luffy believable enough?” He asked, snickering. “Yep, and the break in~ You had a house key the whole time so you really spooked me with it.” You tell him, another chuckle leaving your lips.

“I wanted to spook you~” He snickers, grabbing your washcloth and the bar of soap.

“We should do it again sometime Ace~” You giggle, sliding your hands along his skin. “Oh? So you liked the idea!?” Ace asks, a bit surprised that you somewhat enjoyed the role play. You nodded, your body close with his.

“I wouldn’t mind doing it again~” You whisper to him, his ear twitching slightly at your words. He smirks before pulling you up onto his lap, his eyes staring down into yours. “Well? Do you want to keep going? I’ll make you lose your ability to walk tomorrow baby~” Ace teases you, his hands cupping your face. You bit your bottom lip and press your hands against his shoulders, moving in close to his ear before speaking to him.

“Do it again Ace, harder than the last~”

#puddingspookyseries #one piece #one piece smut #one piece fluff #op smut #op fluff #one piece x female reader #one piece portgas d ace #op ace #portgas ace smut #portgas ace fluff #portgas d ace #portgas ace x reader

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day twenty-eight: uniform kink

>>> all the hating bitches to the back i literally do not want to hear it!!! ttyl xoxo this is for more of my depraved self-ship needs

>>> starring: satoru gojo x curvy!f!reader >>> cw: established relationship, clothed sex, reader and gojo have three kids, breeding/pregnancy kink, uniform kink obviously i swear they tie in bear w me, spankings, doggy >>> wc: 3.6k >>> event masterlist:

it started out innocently enough. well, that’s a lie. it was not innocent, ever—though it wasn’t weird!! you guys are the same age, married for years–with children! it’s only weird when there’s massive age gaps, right? either way, he feels a daunting sense of guilt mixed with devious amounts of excitement shiver down his spine as you step around the corner. 

the two of you have been pilfering through boxes all day, trying to clear out the bonus room now that the girls were old enough to have their own rooms. they were visiting uncle megumi while their parents rearranged the house to surprise them, but it seems you’ve gotten a little side-tracked walking down memory lane. the first box was full of pictures from school, some of your earliest moments with satoru memorialized forever in the stills. it does make you a little emotional to think about how far the two of you have come, the years spent together and the things accomplished side by side. these pictures tell your story; the first few days of school where you and satoru—then spitefully called gojo-kun—stood at opposite ends of the frame to be as separated as possible. satoru gives ieiri bunny ears and you’re hugging suguru’s arm–but the two of you are looking at each other. it’s clear to you now that you were trying to make each other jealous, but at the time you would have sworn to the heavens above that you couldn’t stand the man. 

now satoru always had a soft spot for you, torturing you was all just fun and games to him—until you started dating a guy from the kyoto school. this, of course, was memorialized in pictures too. there teenage you stood, all dressed up for winter formal, grinning ear to ear as you pose for the camera shoko was operating. you can remember this like it was yesterday, standing in your dorm after exchanging your uniform skirt for an icy blue cocktail dress—you were more nervous for a certain someone to see you than you were to meet up with your date. you knew what you were doing when you picked the dress out, and its effect was clearly captured with satoru’s bulging eyes, red face, and gaping mouth in the background. you pass that one to your husband after taking a few good chuckles at it, remembering shoko turning around her little canon camera to show you the picture and how good you felt after seeing gojo-kun’s reaction. 

he waves the picture in his hands, whistling in the same way he did as soon as that camera fell to shoko’s side. he looks at the picture with fondness, remembering it as the moment he decided to get serious about you. the warmth in his cheeks and jealousy squeezing his heart as your date came to pick you up had him reeling to come up with a way to stop you from going. 

“he gonna make you go halfsies on dinner?” he calls after you, and embarrassment stung your cheeks. your date, just as petrified of gojo as he should be, shakes his head no. 

“n–no, we’re going on full stomachs.” he replies, clutching a pathetic bouquet in his hands. gojo laughs. that bouquet was three dollars maximum, and you were a $30 arrangement at the least. and too cheap to take you on a real date? he shouldn’t be surprised, but he can’t help but press on at the horror on your face and the desperation in his gut. 

“ah, daddy didn’t give you any money? i’ll pay you enough to get yourself a real nice dinner if you leave the lady with me.” he sings, holding out a few yen notes for him. you’re mortified, sure this was another one of his stunts to embarrass you— but your date was easily bought. 

“but–”

“b-but–” gojo rolled his eyes in annoyance, slapping the money in his hand. “i recommend the sushi place on the corner.” he turns, beaming at you, slipping his arm through yours when the kyoto boy drops— without skipping a beat. “c’mon. i believe there’s a dance tonight?” he pulls his sunglasses down his nose a little bit to let you see the mischief and excitement swirling in his eyes. 

you bite the inside of your cheek. you want to punch him in the arm–so you do–and then you nod. it sure took him long enough. “you better make this worth it, gojo-kun.” 

he grins. “call me satoru and i’ll make it all worth it, pretty lady.” his voice is a low rumble in his chest instead of his usual light tone. it makes your heart skip a beat and that warmth burn on your cheeks again. 

you never call him gojo-kun again. the rest is history–a viewable version with the many grainy phone selfies of dates and onslaught of school photographs and even an old camcorder with some footage of you practicing your technique on him made it to this spare room. you’re amazed at how nostalgic it all feels, pulling out a picture of you and satoru on graduation day. he’s smiling and pressing a kiss to your cheek—making the switch to a blindfold instead of his circular specs. his hair stands due to the fabric, but you liked the new look; especially when he pulled the blindfold up to wink at you and let you see his sunshine. he’s slumped over you, arms wrapped around your chest. you’re grinning, leaning back against him with your hands tucked into his hold on you. it’s a sweet picture—but you’re focused on the next few. you’re in the same position, but he sneaks his hand to the dip of your waist, then your hip, finally ending with a picture of you blushing from the invisible hand grabbing a handful of your ass. you pass those to satoru too, watching his expression as he flips through them, admiring the youth on your faces. 

“god you made that uniform so sexy.” he snorts, eyes dancing over the way the black fabric clung to you. at the time, he wondered if you’d ordered it that tight just to taunt him, but now he knew there was no amount of clothes that could’ve hidden that bangin’ bod. he shakes his head as he remembers just how horny he had been–not that much has changed even after three kids and over fifteen years together. “had so many fantasies of you in that thing.” 

you arch a brow, “really now?” you ask, clearly intrigued. you had seen the familiar bundle of fabric folded at the bottom of the box. “what kind of fantasies?” you purr, making the hairs on the back of neck stand up, the effects you had fifteen years ago just as efficacious now. 

how honest could he even be with that answer? yes, back then—even as your equal, he envisioned punishing you as your sensei in that little skirt—oh the ways he would have defiled you in yaga’s classroom if you had let him. he’d wondered if you would lean into the slutty schoolgirl act, if you would call him sensei instead of daddy. or would you think that was too much given his current occupation. not like it was the uniform that he liked, just the way you looked in it—and the way it felt to be young and obsessed with you. his obsession has never wavered, its just had to become more subdued as you raise your children —wanting to be a good example and all, he’s nothing but a loving and proper man in front of them. buuuuut. they were with megumi for a few more hours. “what other kinda fantasies about schoolgirls are there, gorgeous?” 

“you perv! gives gojo-sensei a whole new meaning.” you tease him, watching in sheer enjoyment as his cheeks darken a few shades and he crinkles his nose at you in embarrassment. 

“only if you say it like that.” he mumbles in his defense. great, now you think he’s a sicko. he turns back to his box of collectibles, pilfering through what he actually cared to keep now—even though he hasn’t seen any of it since your oldest was born. it’s mostly to hide his shame as he continues to think about you in that little getup with that matured body of yours. he wonders if the material would stretch to accommodate your wider hips and fatter ass. he wonders if the stretchmarks you’ve developed from carrying his children would peek over the waistband of the skirt that’s sure to ride up a little due to your widened thighs. he’s so immersed in the thought of you that he doesn’t hear you slip around the corner to tug on the old outfit. 

it certainly doesn’t fit the same, but it fits. there’s not a shred of modesty to be found– the once form fitting turtleneck top now a cropped version due to the strain from your chest. you hadn’t realized just how much your body had changed beside the obvious pounds on the scale and the marks on your skin—but your mid-thigh length skirt was now a navy mini, showing the dimples of your thighs and the bottom of your ass cheeks. you were no longer the girl from those pictures, but instead a woman who bears the beautiful changes of giving three gorgeous gojo’s life. your husband has always been a massive fan of what he calls “enhancements” to his favorite areas—loving the fluffy stomach for him to rub and the hips that fill his hands. he traces your stretch marks to soothe his racing mind at night, snuggling into your heavy chest for warmth and ultimate comfort in his free time. you know he’s only fallen deeper in love with you and it makes your heart warm with appreciation now that the differences between the young you and the current have been made so clear. you almost give up on the idea altogether, but your husband’s voice calls out for you, so you step around the corner before you can doubt yourself any more. 

he was giving you the sweetest little face—holding up your youngest’s hospital baby blanket with only fondness in his eyes. that is until it registers, as his eyes follow your bulging chest struggling against the fabric, the sides of your hips spilling over the top of the skirt—barely covering anything at all. his face turns red and the blanket falls from his hands, back into the box from whence it came. oh the shame he feels as his cock processes this shock too—making him hiss at the sudden tightness in his pants, biting his lip as he looks at you. it worked on you then and you make it your bitch now, absolutely stunning him beyond words. and he’s never short on things to say. you look even better than anything his imagination drummed up for him. fuck, you are so sexy—you only get better with age. 

the way he looks at you makes you feel like he’s falling in love all over again—eyes bouncing around your frame like he can’t make up his mind to settle on one area. your face burns under his amorous stare, but you fold your hands behind your back and sway to let him admire you. it makes your whole body warm and your cunt clench around nothing the longer he sits and stares–biting his lip, clearly in no hurry to end this moment. as beautiful as he makes you feel, you just can’t help but tease him slightly. you know he’ll pay it back in kind. “do you like it, gojo-sensei?” 

“oh aijichan, can’t you tell?” he hums, eyes falling to his clear erection before they flicker back to you—overcast and darker than usual. he usually playfully calls you his lover, but the addition of the suffix lets you know how thoroughly he’s enjoying your little act. he pats his thigh, spreading his legs even wider across the luxurious office chair. you giggle a little bit, excitement flooding your veins as you walk over to meet him. how you swing your hips and flutter your lashes is not lost on him, in fact he feels the painful buildup pressing against your thigh as you sit sideways on his, looping an arm across his shoulders. “you were such a good little girl in school. i always wondered what it would be like to treat you like a bad one.” he offers, his voice a permanent purr when it comes to the naughty things he presses to your ear. 

it sends a shudder down your spine, and you can’t help but press your chest closer to him in an automatic response. he hooks his hand around your waist, feeling the dip of your waist. he doesn’t miss the reaction—and he loves that you like it. his hand squeezes the fat on your hips, helping you off his lap before standing to full height to tower above you. 

“then bend it over, little lady.” he suggests with a wiggle of his brow, pushing the office chair closer to you with his signature smugness. his eyes sparkle with an erratic excitement, gripping the back of the chair with a tight hold—leaving his impressions in the fabric. you giggle and lean over the chair as instructed. a giddiness floods your veins while he walks circles around you, humming approvingly. “i think ten should teach you your lesson, hm?” 

you wiggle your ass preemptively and nod just to be safe. “yes sir, i think that’ll fix everything.” you purr, feeling one harsh spank to your cheek. it sends a jolt of excitement pulsating to your core, and you know that the results will be evident once he moves your skirt. the arms of the chair dig into your stomach—but it just adds to the sensation as he layers a few intense slaps to your ass. 

“well?” he talks over your loud squeals and happy giggles. “aren’t you going to say thank you?” he hums, shoving your skirt up to your waist to expose the growing redness and incriminating wetness all over your bottom half. he chuckles fondly—you surely do impress. he hits you once more. 

“yes–mmf-” you moan out at the stinging sensation. it’s so much more pleasurable on your bare skin, you can’t help but arch back into him, giving him such a beautiful view of your glistening hole and handprint-branded ass. he slaps it again, enjoying the recoil. “thank you sensei, feels so good~”

he kneads the irritated flesh a little in between the spanks–he’s not heartless, after all. you’re his wife, no amount of roleplay could make him forget the love that swells in his heart for you; especially with that beautiful ass of yours. “that’s seven—can you take your last three, naughty little thing?” 

“mhm, i can take it.” you assure him, finding it wholesome and sexy that he still checks on you even if the dirty talk never skips a beat. from the way you wiggle your bruising ass for him, he knows you’re loving this. he cups his hand under your pussy just to check even though your shiny thighs tell him all he needs to know. he’s delighted when your essence coats his hand anyway, giggling with schoolgirl excitement. hey, that’s your part—

“seems the punishment’s only making you badder.” he hums in approval, hurrying his last few spanks up in order to finally have you. he makes them count though, loud and stinging worse than a wasp—though you can’t recall the last time a bee sting made you feel that good. he can’t remember the last time you two had the house to yourselves, and he planned to put that all of that alone time to good use. you scream out and shudder at the delicious agony, tossing a look over your shoulder to see the sheer pleasure on his face–tufts of hair hanging over his vivid eyes. “seems we’ll just have to move onto something that suits you, aijichan.” 

you clamp down reflexively at his statement, nodding to your undetermined punishment, if such a thing existed under your husband’s treatment. he frees his erection with a little grunt of relief, sliding it through your sloppy lips instantly. he sighs at the feeling—but you whine at the lack of relief. the fire in your gut was burning so hot—you couldn’t take any more of the waiting.

“aw, what is it, little girl?” he mockingly pouts with you. “so needy for your sensei you could cry?” he arches a brow–sheathing his impressive length into the hilt without any more wasted time. he closes his eyes at the feeling of you, just as tight and warm as the first time he had you. it’s wild to him how three kids haven't changed how amazing it is to have you wrapped around him. 

you do cry out at how perfect he fits inside—curving into every gummy spot that needs him with hardly any effort. the sound you make is like music to his ears. you haven’t been able to be this loud since ieiri took the kids to the beach for a weekend four and a half years ago—and that’s how your youngest happened. not to say you haven’t been intimate since, just more…cautious and certainly more quiet. but that does give him an idea. 

he starts to move, grabbing a decent handful of your hair to make a handle out of, pulling you up into a pretty arch. “got one more in you, princess?” he coos, leaning over your body to give you short but powerful thrusts. you can tell from his tone and your regular nickname that playtime was over—he was too consumed by the feeling of you coupled with the undying love you bring out of him to keep up the pet names, but he could succumb to the flash of memories flooding his brain. falling in love with you, making you his for the first time which was also the day he decided he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. he can see the day you played strip uno—which was something he made up just to be cheesy. he remembers your wedding day, you looked so beautiful and were already a few weeks pregnant with your first baby together–your son. god, the memories of you swollen and whiny—

“i—are you serious?” you giggle, a little out of breath from the rigorous way he rocks into you, keeping your asscheeks separated so he didn’t have any resistance. you knew what he was asking, and you know your heart flutters at the idea of having another one despite agreeing to stop after the ones you have. “i thought three was all you could handle?”

“i changed my mind. wanna see you big again. i miss it—’nd i can handle anything.” he says in between the sound of his balls hitting your ass. you can hear the pout in his voice, “you don’t want one?” 

“didn’t say that.” you struggle to form responses, knuckles turning white as you grip the desk in front of you. “just wanted—to be sure—you’re sure!” you squeal with every bruising thwap to your cervix, eyes scrunched shut. you’re almost so gone you might just agree to anything, but the idea of one more pregnancy, one more addition to the family, one more round of being endlessly spoiled as you wait for another gorgeous baby to arrive—it doesn’t sound so bad. it sounds perfect actually, and his words only egg you on. you clench around him in spasms, nodding. “gimme–” 

he chuckles wildly in pride. he would say he loves bully-fucking you into getting his way, but he heard you on the phone with your girlfriend the other day. you were missing that feeling of a new baby as much as he was—and he’s here to please. he moves your hips back to meet his, ass bouncing at the force. your squeals slip into screams and he’s fucking you as hard as he can in order to get more of it: of the sounds, the feeling of your womb keeping him from going any further, the way your pussy flutters around him to tell him you’re so close to cumming—everything was sending him reeling. 

“cum for me first—then’ll give you everything you want, baby.” he encourages, giving you a cocky, “yeahhhh that’s my girl.” when he feels you coat around him—gasping out moans as your legs wiggle and jump. it’s not long after that that he’s gripping your hair even harder, balls drawing up close to him just to spurt his seed as deep as it will go—hoping that his sperm is still just as successful as it’s been known to be. he helps shove it deeper with a few more rolls of his hips, to which you shiver and whine due to oversensitivity.

he pats your ass affectionately, leaning over you again to kiss your cheek as you both sit in the moment and try to catch your breath. he lets your hair fall from his fingers and gently brushes it out of your face, grinning his usual giddy grin. “you’re even sexier now, you know? feel like it’s every day, but even teen satoru would—”

“allllllright thank you, honey, that’s sweet.” you chuckle, shaking your head as he pulls out. he scoops you over his shoulder and shakes his head. 

“whaaaaat–you’re a fucking milf–” he slaps your ass playfully as he sashays toward your room with you. “that i still have–mmm forty-five more minutes give or take to knock up again.” he guesstimates, tossing you on the mattress and crawling over you—determined as ever.

#kylee's kinktober event #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kyleewritesjjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo #gojo smut #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo saturo #saturo gojo

[soundbulb]

while I'm thinking about rust's motivations, I don't agree that rust is motivated by helping people, which is the common sentiment I see when people talk about his characterization. I don't think he's devoid of feeling about it or sees it as inconsequential or anything, but even I think the line "bad men keep other bad men from the door" gets taken a little too seriously, when it's rust's denial shielding him from his reality, but also independent of reality; what he observes and believes. throughout the story we very much see very much see that they do not, in fact, keep bad men from the door. marty was the bad man in his wife and daughter's lives.

when he says things like "those kids will be in that room again" and "when I think of my daughter, what she was spared" and "you see in that last moment they invited it" along with the visit to the girl he did save in '92, kelly, it's pretty obvious he doesn't think finding the murderers or the victims saves anyone. when he says "we have a debt" he believes that debt is to those who suffered at the hands of these men, because by not catching and stopping him they've damned these women and children to infinite lifetimes that cycle them through violence at the hands of these men over and over. it's not that they help; it's that they've failed, and this is recompense, and in this way I think the statement "we keep other bad men from the door" is denial, it's his own capacity for his illusion rearing, and this time period for rust and his monologues are especially rife with this illusion. older rust being interviewed gives a very different view, that his daughter was "spared" because her death was random and immediate. "to go out as a happy child." he specifically says that growing up is too late because you've already been denied mercy, already keeled at the hands of all this degradation you'll live over and over again, but his daughter's circle is just joy and then a painless end before she can pay the price of living, particularly the price of living as a woman. his daughter is who's in mind when he sees how marie fontenot dies, and even then how kelly lives after her liberation. she's catatonic, living in an institution. the boy died in that room after months of abuse, that's where it ends for him, and restarts, so it can end there again and again.

this is a sidebar, but a detail we get is that the boy was reported missing and kelly wasn't. at the time she wasn't reported missing "yet", but then we see her living in an institution meaning she either had no family, her family didn't home her, her family couldn't or wouldn't take care her of her in her state.

the state she's in reminds me of an article from 2017ish I think, where a woman, after a traumatic event, became extremely sick and catatonic, and a researcher saw her in his residency and then after a decade or so when he's a doctor he hears she's still there and recalls she's the sickest person he'd ever seen in his career. he works with her and turns out the traumatic event triggered a severe case of lupus and her immune system was attacking her nerves and brainstem. after decades of living like this she starts to "wake up" under strenuous and experimental immunosuppresant treatment. true detective makes this connection between disease and the mysterious machinations that produce horror, evil, sin, god or whatever framework any given character uses to describe it. characters illustrate exploitation and abuse in the same breath as disease and medicine. dora lang's mother saying "why would a father not bathe his child?" moments before a migraine that makes her wail, one that came from the chemicals she inhaled at work, which also wrecked her hands. marie fontenot's uncle having a "cerebral event", a series of strokes. dora lang's addiction making her an easy target, "chum in the water". hell, even the man at the revival tent, "they gave me bad medicine. I paid for that." and kelly's state after being trapped in that trailer being catatonia, looking a lot like many people with severe autoimmune reactions. the natural world is, in a sense, chum in the water for whatever cosmic horror lays out there. on the larger scale, the various hurricanes are an ultra present detail of the story at any point in time. the hurricane's make it easier for the men their chasing to pick off victims and dump them, making them appear like victims of flooding or exposure. the hurricanes are the excuse tuttle immediately starts setting up when rust probes at the christian schools. it keeps erasing these people, erasing their records in damage, killing them or covering their killings. sometimes I'm reminded of that phrase, "when there's violence in your home, it seems even the house takes sides" how the natural -- or visible -- world we live in feel like it sides with violence we experience at the hands of both our own, and at the hands of this cosmic, spiritual bigness we struggle to wrap our minds around. in twin peaks fire walk with me, laura palmer looks at the ceiling fan at the top of her stairs and it seems like this three eyed creature watching from up there. and when it spins she knows she'll be assaulted that night. the house takes sides. a hurricane takes credit for the killing the women these men hunted.

I've completely left the topic, but in terms of rust's characterization, he wants to see this cosmic animal that connects the natural world, and he feels specifically indebted to those trapped in the cycle that will lead them always back to men who will abuse and kill them every time. for dora lang it starts with her father, then her husband marks her for death by sharing pictures of her naked to the cellmate he knew was dangerous. beth runs from her uncle. kelly, unreachable, can't remember "the giant" without living it again. he doesn't believe he's helping them at all, he believes it's his debt. he doesn't think he helped kelly, likely the only person he could be argued to have helped. while true detective is tonally unlike the average detective show in many ways, I think it's intentional that there is no active victim to save in the end. the network tv detective show, or the copaganda shows of the past two decades, like criminal minds and whatever else usually have a current victim to save, always at the last minute. in true detective, this is kelly. but in true detective we don't see her until it's already over, and it was not a show down, it was clumsy, stupid, and abject. and they never knew she was there, she wasn't even reported missing. she's rescued in '92 because we need visit her ten years later to understand how she couldn't be saved from what already happened. there is no "happy ending" because she can neither unlive this, nor has it ended. when they catch her captor in 2012, he's alone in a maze, no one to rush to safety except for rust himself.

and they don't "get their guy" either. it's pretty clear that the men they're allowed to stop are only the ones on the fringes: impoverished, felons, addicts, at the edge of society. the men in power are also guilty of these murders -- the mayor, his family, the head of an evangelical institution, clergy -- but they're not allowed to be stopped. so rust and marty are allowed to catch white trash ledoux and the abominable offshoot incestuous childress, but not the men within their society that do the same things as them. so can they really help anyone when they're only allowed to go after avatars of this violence, and not the ones responsible for a legacy of violence?

by the end his thinking has been changed by his new belief that death is the end -- he finally is lurched into that great cosmic blackness, and recognizes it; calls it daughter, father. as he dies he feels an entirely different existence that will allow him to release into nothingness, and he comes away no longer believing that all these people will be reborn into the same life, doomed to go through all the suffering of life again and again. he welcomes it. in short, he believes those who have died found peace, and this allows him to accept the possibility that all is not lost. we're trapped into a cycle of violence, exploitation, degradation, and disease as long as we live, but living does have it's night; in the end, everything will be undone.

#true detective #true detective season 1 #rust cohle #htl #ht

[soubi122]

Afterglow

First timeline Hanma Shuji.

Warnings: smut, cherry popping, unprotected sex, fingering, prostitution, mentions of blood, slight dubcon, breeding kink if you squint, slight obsession, abuse/violence, slight angst, fluff at the end. MDNI - respectfully, GO AWAY!

Sitting in a large private room with a round table at a restaurant, Hanma Shuji could only smirk as the man in front of him begged him for forgiveness. “Please…I can pay it back. I will give all my earnings, just don't take my sister.” The man cried. His pleas fell on deaf ears. “You shouldn't bet what you don’t have.” Hanma laughed. The rest of the men laughed as well at the man’s pathetic attempt to keep the reaper from taking what he’s owed. “Toman will be collecting shortly…” He pauses and looks past the man and at the doorway behind him. His golden iris glowed with excitement at what or should we say who walked through the door. The innocent little dove that had no clue what was happening just so happened to be you. “(B/N), I got your text…what’s going on?” You question softly with a bit of worry on your tongue. Hanma’s mischievous giggle made you look up in his direction, it sent a small chill down his spine - you were radiating in pure innocence. The look of horror on your brother’s face when he noticed the reaper’s eyes land on your figure became noticeable.

Apparently, your brother put you down as collateral for a bet he couldn’t afford to lose. Did he win? Of course not. “Ohh…That’s quite fucked up. Putting your little sister up.❤️” The tall lanky male said with a wicked chuckle and smile, he began to walk towards you both. You thought you heard wrong, did he just say that your brother put you up, up for what?! “W-what is he talking about?” You ask as your body begins to tremble. “Are they forcing you to do something? If so, we can figure it out - I’ll get another job and pay-'' The tall male’s hand covered your mouth, muffling your words. Your brother couldn’t even look you in the eye. “(Y/N), I’m so sorry.” He said and was too ashamed of what he just did. He wanted to protest but he had no right, he put you in this position and single handley sold you off to Toman.

Looking down at the hand that kept you from speaking, you noticed the large tattoo on it. It read punishment (罰), the irony in seeing this only made your heart drop. You were going to be punished for someone else’s mistake. “Now, wave goodbye to your dear brother.” The man said and grabbed your wrist with his left hand and made you wave. Reading the tattoo on his left hand, you see that it reads sin (罪). The gears began to turn slowly inside your head. It made you nauseous - Hanma Shuji was the one taking you. He was known as the most ruthless and heartless person ever. You’ve heard the stories about Toman. Murder, extortion, fraud, gambling and expanding their territory into prostitution - he was all part of it.  

After kicking your brother out and registering you as Toman’s property - he leads you towards the back of the building and lets you know you are getting escorted to your new ‘home’. Before the car arrived, your eyes were shifting every now and then between the doorway and Hanma. Despite the way people described him, it did him no justice - yes he was a monster but he was very handsome too. Golden eyes, black and gold tresses with rounded specs. You were staring a little too long at him that he got the wrong idea. Before you could even think about asking him a question, he spoke curtly. “Don’t even try it, a pretty thing like you needs to be in one piece for your assessment.” That twisted smile on his face had your knees shaking. He thought you were going to beg him to release you or that you were going to try and make a run for it. 

Once the car arrived, he threw you in the back seat rather forcefully. You gasped and landed almost face first into the leather seats, with your ass hanging in the air - he got quite the view. When you managed to adjust yourself and the car began to pull away from the building, you spotted your older brother slouching on the street. He looked broken yet glad… The sight of him like this made your chest hurt. You began to cry when the anger bubbled over. You were angry at him and felt sorry for him. Did you not make enough to keep a roof over your heads? Why didn’t he come to you sooner instead of going to Toman? The thoughts were racing inside your head and your hands were trembling. Hanma startled you when he spoke. “Don’t you dare feel bad for him. He’s the reason you’re in this position. And the reason you will be raped over and over by men who don’t give a shit about you and your brother’s debt.” That maniacal tone made your blood run cold. He was right. You were sold off and will have to use your body to pay back every cent with interest.

The rest of the car ride remained quiet until you arrived at an office building. “Come on sweetheart…time to assess your worth.” His words only made the pain in your chest worse. Based on the building, it looked like a private practice office but there were a lot of Toman’s underlings with other women. Some of the women had bruises on their faces or gauze wrapped around what you could only assume were wounds. Faint sounds of coughing and sneezing made you almost forget that you were at an irregular doctor’s office…ohhhh. This is what he meant by assessment, you were going to be given a complete physical. Walking down the hall, The comments along the way amongst the other men were sickening. ‘You think we'll be able to fuck her?’ ‘Fuck, I want to eat her out.’ ‘Look at the tits on her…she’ll sell very nicely.’ ‘I wonder what pricing Kisaki  will have on her.’ More and more these cruel comments made your body tremble. Hanma remained behind you with a firm hand on your shoulder to keep you from running. It would be foolish to even try. Your vision began to get blurry as tears welled in your eyes, the life you knew was over.

Hanma pulled you into one of the examination rooms and you were met with a doctor, he looked…well, normal except he had a cast on his arm. Soon his normal appearance became distorted when he smiled - the disturbing smile on his face made you pause. Hanma nudged you. “Come on now sweetheart….it’s just protocol. We need to assess our new merchandise.❤️” That fucked up playful tone made a chill run down your spine. He made you step forward and he closed the door behind him. “Ah, you’re the new girl, welcome.” His tone was heavy and you could also feel him looking through your clothes. You turned to look at Hanma and he only smirked at you, he was going to be here the entire time this man put his hands on you. 

You were instructed to take your clothes off, you figured you were going to get a gown but the doctor said no. They needed to assess all of you. In nothing but your undergarments, you tried to cover yourself as best as possible but Hanma flashed you a look of disapproval. “What are you going to do to me?” You ask the doctor and stand in place. The doctor took out his clipboard and began taking notes, shifting his gaze between you and the clipboard, he didn’t answer your question. “Stand up straight and let your hands fall to your sides.” He said almost sweetly. When you hesitated, you saw Hanma walk towards your direction, his eyebrows were furrowed and his golden eyes were burning into you. His hands reached to grip yours and forcefully set them in place. It hurt, your wrists were turning red from the amount of force he was using. “Sorry dollface, Kisaki hates wasting time.” That faux apologetic tone made you sick. 

“He’ll need to take your measurements - you see, he broke my arm last week.” The doctor says smiling and hands Hanma the fabric measuring tape. His cold hands made your breath hitch. It made him chuckle and he continued brushing your skin teasingly just to get you to react. When he got to measuring your bust, he first palmed your breasts and made you gasp. Oh that sound of innocence, could you be…? “I’m guessing you’re a(n) [X] cup.” He says smirking and rubs his thumbs over the cups of your bra. The blush on your face only widened his smirk. He was right, how the hell could he have guessed by just touching them like that? He was making butterflies in your stomach, the first man to touch you was your executioner. “We need exact measurements, Shuji.” The doctor said and cleared his throat. Huffing, Hanma continued and his guess was correct. Hanma leans in and whispers in your ear. “He’s going to ask you some…intimate questions, better answer truthfully if you know what’s good for you.” That poison honied tone made your legs quiver. 

Stepping back, Hanma leans against the wall across from you with a smirk on his face. It felt like you were a teenager with a parent at a clinic and the doctor asks the question. “Now then, let us continue. Please discard the rest of your clothing and take a seat on the exam table.” The doctors says, for a moment you felt your brain short-circuit and froze. He wanted you to do what? "M-my underwear too?" You stutter but Hanma was quick to click his tongue. Looking over at him, you noticed his expression was rather annoyed. Not wanting to test his patience, you begin to unclasp your bra and keep your eyes glued to the floor. The cool air made you shiver and of course, your nipples hardened - causing Hanma to hum and bite his lip. You were so exposed. Once you were completely nude and sat on the exam table, the doctor asks the following questions:

Does your family have a history of cancer or any other fatal diseases?

Do you exercise? 

What is your diet like?

Do you smoke or drink?

Do you suffer from any back or joint pain?

Are you sexually active? 

Have you ever been pregnant?

Have you ever had any sexually transmitted diseases?

Have you ever taken two or more partners at once?

Do you partake in oral sex?

He kind of threw all these questions at you all at once. You were struggling to keep up with everything and were turning red from the last questions. “Umm…no.” You say quietly and keep your eyes glued to the floor. Hanma’s face lit up a bit, this couldn’t possibly be true - you a virgin? All the women who have walked through these doors have been deflowered and some even pollinated before. “Ohh?” His coy tone made you squirm on the table. To have the chance at breaking in a virgin, he’s wanted to do this for years but all previous women had their cherries popped already. The doctor walks over with his stethoscope and places the cold medal on your chest to listen to your heartbeat - he was careful not to inappropriately touch your breasts. Of course your heart rate was abnormal. He then told you to sit up straight and placed the diaphragm on your back to listen to your lungs. “Deep breaths in and out please.” The way your chest would slowly rise and fall was making Hanma eager to get to the next part. The doctor continued his physical, he waved the ophthalmoscope over each eye and used the otoscope to check your ears. "All right, open your mouth." Following his instructions, you opened your mouth and he shoved a flat wooden stick down your throat. It made you gag almost instantly. "Hmm, we can work on your gag reflex." Gag reflex? Is this why he asked you if you partake in oral sex? They were planning on making you a prostitute? 

He was carefully checking the surface of your skin for any flaws or abnormalities and then stepped away to take notes. Charting every detail about you and your body - they really graded women like they grade meat. "Now lay back and Shuji will finish the examination. Again, with my arm being broken, I wouldn't be able to complete it." The doctor says and smiles at you before taking a seat by the edge of the table. Before you knew it, Hanma was already next to you and he gently pushed you back. The doctor explained what he needed to do and what to feel for, they needed to give you a rather crude breast exam. The delight in Hanma's face had your legs trembling. "Arm over your head, dollface." He said in a low tone, you complied with the right arm first and he proceeded to slowly but firmly touch you. His cold hands made your breath hitch and the way your legs kept squirming - it made him smirk and keep eye contact with you. Starting from the center, he was making his way around and cleared you of any lumps. He could see the way your lips parted and could hear those shaky moans. Were you perhaps enjoying this? Now the left breast, same routine and he cleared you. The doctor took notes and told him to check your abdomen. Just when you thought he was done with the breast exam, next thing you know his fingers were rubbing your nipples. "Gotta check your sensitivity." He says and gives them a light pinch. The sweetest moan escaped your lips and oh he enjoyed it. 

"You see… We do a very thorough assessment…" He said and kept rolling them between his fingers. The sick pleasure that was being injected into your veins had you biting your lip and refusing to give him more reasons to tease you. Try as you might, you were falling apart - failing to hold back your whimpers. "The higher quality you are, the more expensive you'll be." The glossy look in your eyes had his member twitching. Your blushing and innocent face stirred something in him, he wanted nothing more than to corrupt you. He's had a taste of some merchandise before, but they were just that - nothing more. They didn't captivate him, they flaunted their experience and skills in bed. It didn't make him come back for more but you… you got him all sorts of fucked up from the moment you walked through that door.

Hanma was just about to lean in to bite your chest until the doctor cleared his throat. "Like you said, Kisaki hates wasting time, please allow me to finish up the assessment and I'll-" His words were cut off by a loud moan. When the doctor peered over to see what was going on, he noticed that the reaper had a mouth full and was enjoying himself to the merchandise. The doctor sighs and begins to walk away before pausing at the doorway and looking back. “Try not to break her, Kisaki wants to make the money back as quickly as possible - the higher her grade, the more we can sell her for.” With that the doctor exited the room and left you at the hands of the reaper. 

“Now then sweetheart… you can be honest with me.” He says playfully and nibbles on your skin - leaving pink marks behind. “You’ve had a cock between your legs before, yeah?” He coos in your ear and trails his hand south to your honey pot. Your hand was trying to hold on to something, anything, to suppress the lustful sensations. Refusing to answer his question, you bite your lip and screw your eyes shut. Bad idea, this only made Hanma want to break you even more. Without warning, he slapped your pussy and it made you quickly snap your legs closed, catching his hand in between. “Ohh… your thighs have quite the muscles.❤️” He giggled like a mad man and tried prying them open with one hand but failed. “...please, don’t.” It’s the first time you’ve addressed him at all. Leaning in to gently glide his tongue on your bottom lip, he whispered - “Your body doesn’t belong to you anymore, dollface. Now be a good girl and open your legs for me.” His words were cold and yet they made you melt on the spot. Who could resist those beautiful golden eyes, and those black and gold strands of hair? There was something stirring up inside of you, something dark. 

With your legs quivering, you slowly spread your legs open for him. “Good girl…” Lithe fingers slid down to your core and he just about moaned when he felt your slick. Whimpering, you barely manage to speak as his finger prods your entrance. “S-stop, please! I’ve never done this before!” Hanma couldn’t help but mock you and shove his finger inside you without warning, making you squeal and grip his bicep. The sensation was so foreign you didn’t know what to do. Just one finger and she’s practically crying? He thinks to himself and slowly explores your cavern. “You really are a virgin, huh?” He whispers into your lips and forces you into a kiss. Panting and moaning, you returned his kiss - it felt like you were in a daze. He was poisoning you and you were giving into him, might as well enjoy it before you get thrown to sharks. 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you tried your hardest to at least make this as pleasurable as possible - for both of you. Caught off guard by the return of affection, he grinned and slid another digit inside your warmth. He could feel your walls clamping down on and pulsing at his sudden actions. Moaning into his kisses, you felt the way his long fingers stretched you out and your hips slightly grind into them. The sinful motions only continued as his thumb traced circles on your bundle of nerves. “...ngh…ah-it feels…” You say and try to adjust to the sensation of something being inside you. “This is nothing compared to what’s next, dollface.” Hanma chuckled and quickened his pace. Your sweet voice had him high in the clouds, so inexperienced and so sweet, he needed to sink into you. To feel your warmth, your tight walls and your release. 

"Fuck…you're so wet, practically dripping - tell me pretty girl, have you ever touched yourself?" He asks and nuzzles his face into your neck. "You've never played with this pretty pussy before? Hmm?" For a moment, you thought his voice alone was going to send you into overdrive. Shaking your head no, you confess that you've never been touched before. Poor thing, you've never experienced a hand, a finger, a tongue or a cock between your legs. The reaper couldn't have that now could he? Without warning he stopped and stood up straight, gazing down at you with his amber eyes. The way he towered over you, you thought he got turned off by your confession but it did quite the opposite. You set him on fire. 

He walked away and you closed your eyes thinking he was done with you. That is until you felt him on the other edge of the examination table, he gripped your ankles and yanked you closer to the edge of the table. Your surprised squeak made him smile. He removed his glasses and tossed them aside. The sound of his zipper made your heart skip a beat. Was he going to pop your cherry? The heavy contact from his length hitting your core made you flinch. “I want you to see the moment I deflower you…now sit up.” Hanma demanded, those gold irises reflected nothing but malice and desire. Looking down, you see how flushed his tip was, it was oozing precum and you swore you were going to die if he put it in you. “W-will it fit?” You ask innocently. For a moment the world stopped, Hanma felt infatuated with your innocence and couldn’t bear the thought of another man taking your first time. “I’ll make it fit, sweetheart.” He replies sweetly and rubs his tip against your clit as he unbuttons his shirt. His warmth and the slick was making your head fuzzy - you knew this was wrong but you wanted it.

Sitting up, you wrap your arms loosely around his neck and brace yourself. Looking up at him, Hanma noticed the tears that lined your eyes, you were worried and scared. Such a sweet expression. “I said I want you to see it…look down (Y/N).” Oh he said your name and a chill ran down your spine. Following his orders, you look down and see his cock throbbing, it makes your mouth salivate - this was really happening. Hanma reeled his hips back and lined himself up with your slit. His breath hitched when his tip prodded your entrance, your breath caught in your throat as you felt a burning stretch - you were too tight. Tears began to stream down your face as you watched him peirce you. He only had the tip in and you were already crying. “Ngh…it’s too big…it hurts.” You whimper and pant as his cock bullies its way inside you. Your words fell on deaf ears, Hanma was too busy drinking in your expression of distress and looking at how his length slowly disappeared inside you. “Keep watching, dollface. You’ll see how I make it fit.” He says and continues forcing his way in. He noticed how your legs trembled and how your tears streamed down your face. For you not to fight back…you might be able to take more of the things he wants to do to you.

As much as it burned, you couldn’t help but feel arousal in seeing how his fat cock split you open. You were becoming a lewd mess. This man, the devil’s incarnate, had you losing more than your innocence, he was making you lose your sanity. Could you ever look at yourself the same ever again? When he managed to bottom out, you felt a throbbing sensation inside you - you thought you were going to pass out. Hanma was panting and snickering like a mad man at how fucking good you felt. “See baby? I told you I’d fit.” He coos and presses his forehead against yours. Looking up at him, you see how the look in his eyes softened just a bit, could this be a sign of kindness? 

When your walls finally settled on his shape, Hanma slowly reeled his hips back and leaned back ever so slightly to take in the view. To his delight, there were light traces of blood on his shaft - you were a virgin and an obedient one at that. Doe eyes, pouty lips, flushed cheeks, all features that made him want to ruin you until you can no longer function without him. Grabbing you by the back of your neck with one hand and gipping your hip with the other, he pulled you in close and seared you with his gaze. Your eyes reflected nothing but obedience and reverence. He loved it. God or the Devil put you on his path for a reason, that reason was for him to get a taste of heaven - knowing that he will never actually get there after he departs this world, it was a rather kind gesture from the gods. When he thrusted into you, he felt your walls spasm around his length. Your core was pulling him in and refusing to let go of his cock, he struggled to pull away - he didn’t want to leave your warmth even for a second. 

Your soft moans had him in a daze and he kept his slow pace. The pain was beginning to subsite and pleasure started to creep up on you. With how close he was, your clit was getting some friction and you wanted more of this foreign sensation. “Sh-Shuji…I want more.” You whimper and pout at him. Saying his name like that, oh you have no idea what you just did to him. Crashing his lips into you, he devoured you and picked up his pace. Hanma couldn’t care less about your now ruined state - all he wanted was to fill you up and make you cry around his cock. Everything was getting hazy, you felt as if your body was going numb with each thrust of his hips. The air was being snatched from your lungs when he kept hitting that golden spot inside you that you didn’t even know existed. For it being your first time, you were taking him so well he thought that you were made for him. 

Leaning back on your elbows, you took in the view before you - when you should have felt fear and disgust, you felt bliss. Your mind was muddled in sin and you couldn’t help it, something about him just made you trust him and give in to him. His husky moans and breaths kept you in the clouds. He could have killed you on the spot and you would have died happy. Why on earth do you feel this happy when your life is over after this? Sensing your conflict, Hanma presses your legs further back, making his tip kiss your cervix with each thrust. “Ahn…I feel something coming, I-” Your moan cuts your sentence short. Your purity was being tainted and he was the cause of it all. 

Hanma was rather kind for breaking you in, had it been left to a client - they would have scarred you in a way where you would never feel pleasure again. “Get used to this position, sweetheart. You’ll be on your back to make back the money that is owed.” He pants between words and digs his fingernails into your plush thighs. Even though his words were cruel, you didn’t care at all - you were glad it was him. Maybe a little too glad as the soft smile on your lips and glossy look in your eyes sent him into overdrive. He expected you to cry at any moment or freeze in fear but you looked divine and accepted your fate without question. Perhaps he was fucking you stupid but loved the look on your face. It was now etched in his mind. 

“Shit…I’m close, gonna fill you up pretty girl.” He pants and places both hands on your hips to steady himself. Sitting up, wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him in - resting your chin on his shoulder. Those siren-like moans were now in his ear and he couldn’t help but feel a shiver run down his spine. Your cries of his name and god’s name kept echoing in his ear along with incoherent babbles that sounded like you were going to come undone at any second. Your thighs were beginning to shake and you bit down on his collarbone, making him wince and pound into you harder. The moment you felt your first orgasm, your body trembled and your release was pure bliss. You didn’t think it was possible to feel this good for your first time, especially after it being taken by the reaper himself. Feeling your cunt clench around him and feeling your juices drip down his thighs, Hanma reached his high and spilled his seed deep in your womb. It wouldn’t stop, he kept feeling his cum splurt inside you and he wanted to just keep you filled up until your belly was swollen. 

Both of you stayed still, panting and trying to regain some sort of consciousness, the afterglow was too good. “...Shuji.” You whisper and his ears perk up at the sound of your voice. “Hmm?” He hums in response and rests his forehead on your shoulder. “Will you still visit me when I’m taken away?” You ask him innocently and pray that he says yes. I know they say that you will never forget your first time but this was on a whole other level. It felt like you fell for him, even though you knew this would probably be a one time thing, perhaps even the last time you’d ever see him again. He fucked up your mental state, you got a taste of ecstacy and now you wanted to keep staying high in clouds and dancing with the devil. The low chuckle made your chest ache, he didn’t answer your question and told you to clean yourself up, he only wanted to pop your cherry - nothing more and nothing less. 

He left the room after cleaning himself up, not even looking back at you - he didn’t even give you the chance to savor his handsome face before he left. The soreness between your legs was beginning to creep up on you. After cleaning yourself up, the doctor walked back in and gave you a pill to swallow, of course - Hanma fucked you raw and you didn’t even think about the consequences that would bring. “If your period is late, please let us know immediately.” The doctor says and tells you to follow him. Slowly walking, you felt Hanma’s seed drip little by little, he really did fill you up. 

The doctor informed you of the rest of the procedure and how you will be staying at a…well for lack of a better word, whore house for now on but you were not to render services until the assessment was completed. When that is done, they will be changing your name and you will be given a complete breakdown of all the pricing that will be placed on your body. It kind of was a blur to you. 

After they dropped you off at your new home, you were welcomed by the staff and not so welcomed by the other women there. They were not happy about competing with another pretty face. Especially when they overheard that Hanma Shuji took a liking to you and popped your cherry. It meant that you were going to be worth more than they are and your ‘workspace’ would be much nicer than theirs. 

The first few days were hard. The days were short but the nights were long, you could hear the women servicing other men and it only made you nervous. Yet there was warmth that built up inside your chest just thinking about the reaper. Remaining in that room at night didn’t make it any better. Anyone could have walked through that door and you would have no choice but to surrender yourself to them. You were stuck doing laundry and cleanup duty for other rooms, you needed to be useful for something after all. To be fair, you preferred this but it wasn’t going to pay off the debit any sooner.

Finally after a month, the house mother walked in and threw you some lingerie to wear, “Your services are needed at 22:00, get cleaned up and get ready, babydoll.” She said and reminded you to put on a performance for your guest in order to get extra tips. She also gave you a warning, if the client left unsatisfied - you’d be doing some ‘unsavory’ services in the feature. You knew she didn’t mean clean up duty.

Feeling anxious, you quickly did as you were told - cleaning up the room, cleansing yourself and getting ready. The whole time you felt like you were going to pass out. You could feel your teeth chatter when everything was done and you looked at the clock, it was almost time…it read 21:57. The sound of the doorknob turning made your heart almost jump out of your chest. Your eyes darted to the figure at the door and it was your house mother. Oh thank goodness, you were praying that she’d tell you that they canceled. “Babydoll, your guest is downstairs - they have a rather peculiar request. Here…”  She says and tosses you a blindfold. Oh no, was the person some kind of old pervert? Or perhaps some guy with a fetish? Maybe this was for the best - you didn’t want to see his face, it would most likely haunt you. 

A knock on the door made your squeak and the house mother quickly fixed you up while telling the guest to come in. “I hope she is to your liking, enjoy.”  She says coyly and you could her walk away, followed by the sound of the door closing. The room remained silent and you sat there with your heart in your throat. It was too quiet so you decided to break the ice, “W-welcome, I will be taking care of you tonight, sir.” Your voice is soft and has a tinge of skittishness to it. The man said nothing. The room still remained quiet and you felt as if you were going to vomit. Standing there in silence while unable to see what’s in front of you was overwhelming. A few more seconds of silence and finally you hear him move. His footsteps came closer, you could feel his presence - he was right in front of you. 

The sudden hard slap to your face made you yelp and he threw you off balance, making you stumble back onto the bed. You froze in place, what the hell was this? He started to pant. The stinging sensation on your cheek intensified when another harsh slap landed on your face. However, you couldn’t retaliate - for your sake, there was no way. You were warned about this. As long as he doesn’t punch you or cause your skin to break, you were to take it. Many of the girls shared stories with you about how sometimes they would get terrifying men and would often have to take a beating from them. They were all done within the limits of the rules - even though the women protested, nothing was ever done as they were high paying clients. If the money rolled in, they had to pretty much roll with the punches. Tears were beginning to soak through the blindfold, it hurt so much. 

You could hear the sound of his belt buckle and zipper, was he going to fuck you now? But your ears picked up on the slight skin slapping sounds, he was getting off to his abuse. A third slap in the same spot made you scream in pain, the taste of blood was now in your mouth. He busted your lip. When you heard a whipping sound, you instinctively scream again in fear of your life - this was going beyond the service of a prostitute. A loud crash and the sound of charging footsteps could be heard, followed by a heavy thud. Freezing in place, you dared not to move, you could have gotten in trouble by not being cooperative with your guest. You felt the bed dip as if someone was kneeling on it and climbing over you. Every fiber in you was screaming for you to run or fight back. 

When the person lifted your blindfold, your vision was blurry and trying to adjust to the light. A maniacal chuckle echoes in your ears. “Rough first day, sweetheart?” That voice… You wipe your eyes and your vision focuses on him. Golden eyes, black and gold tresses with round specs, it was him. “Shuji?” The soft tone in your voice made a shiver run down his spine, you still sounded innocent. Looking down you see the asshole who slapped you was face down on the ground with his pants around his ankles. Apparently, Hanma walked in unannounced and was going to request your services. However, when the house mother said you just started servicing your first client, he pretty much didn’t give a flying fuck and made a beeline to your room and kicked the door open at the exact moment he heard your scream. 

The house mother gasped when she saw the client on the floor. “What the hell happened?” She questioned the reaper and glared at him. It wasn’t like Hanma to interrupt the girls during service. “Nothing, he broke the rules so I broke his nose.” He retorts. “By the way, she is no longer of service to this house.” Wait, what? “Oh dear…we had a queue lined up for her.” The house mother sighs and doesn’t question her boss any further. 

Wiping the blood off your lip, Hanma explains to you that your debt has been paid by an anonymous donor. You were set free from this shitty life. The sound of another man’s voice by the doorway made you both turn around. “So…this is the little bird you’ve been surly about?” A man with blond, neat cut hair says while examining you. You recognized him as Toman’s top brass, Kisaki Tetta. The girls would talk about him, he would rarely come by but only for VIP clients - he’d never indulge in the land of milk and honey. Kisaki was personally here to see who caught the eye of the reaper. You immediately stood up and bowed. “Thank you sir.” You say not wanting to seem rude. “Thank Hanma…he’s the one who paid your debt.” He scoffed and began to walk away with a smirk on his face. There was a tinge of regret of letting Hanma release you from your debt, you would have pulled in quite a lot of money. The plan is always to give the girls a list of fees different from their actual market pricing. That way Toman keeps them around a little longer while profiting off their suffering. 

“Oi, asshole! You weren’t supposed to tell her!” Hanma laughed and pulled you in from your waist. The reaper couldn’t get you out of his head, the moment he felt the afterglow - he had to backaway, there was something there and refused to accept it. It made sense as to why he refused to look at you one last time before he left that day. Even while working and blooding up faces, stacking bodies and sleeping with other women - he couldn’t get your innocent face out of his head. It was maddening. When he realized that you etched yourself into his mind - he cut a deal with Kisaki. You were going to be Hanma’s…personal assistant. He was refusing to let you go again and refused to have another man touch you. Hence the delay in your services at the whore house. 

In tears you thanked him, for once in his life he felt like he did something good - something that wasn’t for benefit. Right? Actually no, scratch that, it was all for his benefit. That night he took you home and made you cry more tears, only they were of pleasure and bliss. You were his and only his.

END

tags: @anxious-chick

#tokyorevengers #tokyo revengers #tr fanfic #tr fanfiction #tr smut #tokyo revengers smut #hanma #hanma shuji #toman hanma #first timeline hanma #smut #slight an #slight fluff #oneshot #mini fic #hanma smut #hanma shuji smut #this was a little sweet at the end

[writemywaytoyourheart]

Bedeviled - Masterlist

Pairing: demon!jungkook x female reader

Genre: E2L, drama, romance, horror, angst

Age recommendation: 16+ (pls be aware of your boundaries and don't force yourself to read something that may affect you, ily)

Official Word Count: 165k

Date first posted: October 14, 2022

Date finished: December 13, 2023

Warnings: strong language, brief mentions of liquor, physical violence, gore, cruelty, humiliation, angst, physical injuries, panic attacks, frightening depictions of Hell and those in it, some suggestive content, deals with/summoning of demons (do not), grief, death, loss, strong religious themes

________________

Money. Fame. Power. Love. Health. Courage. Strength.

Humans will trade their souls for anything, unaware of how their selfish desires will fade away as they do; growing feeble and pathetic, until there's nothing left but the ghost of their youth, cowering in a corner until old age disposes of it. 

Convincing yourself to go to the Underworld? Easy...

Walking through to get something that you've waited many years for, accompanied by a demon that will stop at nothing to make sure your soul belongs to him? Maybe not so much.

Making deals with the devil is a tricky business; one you might not have realized could end in something much more painful than death itself if you make a single mistake.

Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. It is not religiously accurate and is not claiming to be. That being said, blasphemy will not be used/tolerated during this story. Heavy inspiration from Dante Alighieri's 'Inferno' was used, I am not claiming to have created those ideas on my own, simply incorporated some of them into my world building. If you do not feel comfortable reading this work, please don't. No need to try and correct me on anything, this is all fictional and for entertainment purposes only. Hate will not be tolerated; it will be removed, and you will be blocked immediately.

All Rights Reserved ©️ @writemywaytoyourheart 2022 2023

This story is protected under copyright. If I find out anyone has stolen my writings, I will not hesitate to take legal action against it. You do not have permission to repost my work on any site ever. If I want it somewhere else, I will put it there myself. If you see my works anywhere but Tumblr (and from my account specifically) please let me know so I can confirm whether it is me or not, thank you.

Do. Not. Steal. My. Work.

Bedeviled Playlist

Table of contents:

As of right now, this story does not have a set schedule, I would like it to be every Friday, but we'll see what the future holds, deal?

1: A Deal with the Devil

2: The First Circle

3. Descent

4. Adumbration

5. Rotten Company

6. rigor samsa

7. Adamantine

8. Summoning

9. The Higher the Wall...

10. The Harder They Fall

11. Hiraeth

12. Apple (12a) (12b)

13. trustfall

14. Always Faithful, Always Strong

15. [a: alea iacta est] [b: Morior Invictus]

Epilogue

Tag list; @kookxin @butterymin @telepathytae @kooliv @highoffbaddecisions @meanum @smitssharon02 @kmpac @ggukkieland @jjanjankook @sugaslittlekookies @hobispriteu1306 @kimchibrat @slowlydeliciousjiminie @screamertannie @i-dont-give-a-fok @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @ohyeahjk @babycandy111 @ttipa @ggukcanim @era-genius @katlumiiine @xmochiloverx @sopikooo @berryonasummerevening @jamlessstars @bangtannie7 @iftheworldiswritten @nuttykittypainter @geniejunn @mal99 @ane102 @charlesswife @jeonssm @ashbxnny @veronawrites @jjkw-7 @jinsundor @h-g-bts @justvibingsblog @hyuneyeon @hellbornsworld @hiii-priestess @nuttypizzacat @vidaficrecs @royallyjjk @thvslvt @hoseoksluv89 @moonchilddna​ @idkjustlovingbts @taiwan0618 @aurorathi @kookies-n-spice @ohxhoneyyxx @namjoonscrabjuice @dumdaradumdaradum @vintagemoonsstuff @jiminsthings @p-i-e-d-p-i-p-e-r @0funsite0 @av0kqdo

(let me know if you want to be added/removed and pls be sure to let me know if you have changed your username and would still like to be tagged, ty ❤)

#jeon jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook demon au #jungkook smut #bts fluff #bts #bts reactions #bts angst #bts jungkook #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #bts demon au #demon!jk #demon!jungkook #bts smut

[technicallyverycowboy]

playboyy: no fags, no femmes

okay, so. playboyy meta. thanks to @lugarn, @chaos0pikachu, and @cryptidafter for talking all this out with me <3

i originally started this post with "not to be that guy," but honestly, i do want to be that guy. because so much of the critique and analysis of playboyy i'm seeing is a) grounded in a lack of knowledge about queer history and aesthetics and b) veers unintentionally but wildly into unexamined homophobia.

so, given i'm going to reference susan sontag's notes on camp several times, i've decided i might as well go full queer studies major about it and copy the list style she uses. (i would highly recommend reading notes on camp. it is academic and somewhat dense, but it's a tame 13 pages)

1. so many people are confidently asserting that playboyy is not camp, regardless of what the creatives behind the show think. to which i have to ask: how are you defining camp? what things are campy to y'all?

2. the personal definition of camp that i arrived at after writing a bunch of papers about it is two-fold: camp is exaggeration, treating things that are serious casually and treating things that are casual seriously. camp is about an aesthetic of inhabiting a role, where something is a little bit off or being something that it's not meant to be.

and to be clear, this is a wildly incomplete and simplified definition, because one of the points of camp is that it's a vibe, not something concrete. It’s also something that shifts over time the relationship between queerness and society changes.

2a. camp often intersects and overlaps with surrealism, like in rocky horror picture show. very often media that is campy exits the mundane world and enters a heightened world of exaggeration and stylization. 

3. so, is playboyy campy? i sure as hell think it is. i think lugarn and chaos0pikachu both made really good points about the campiness of playboyy and it being specifically sexwork camp. (both replies are at that link.)

4. a brief list of things that specifically resonated as campy to me: first throwing american dollars in the pool for soong to catch, zouey's fantasy of feeling up teena in art class, every single element of nant's room (especially the projected images), captain's sports plot that involved zero doing the sport and 100% fucking and fantasy, the softly romantic framing of nuth and phob's sex scenes, jump's pleather tank top & coverall combination, prom wearing assless chaps to a rooftop party at 2:30 in the afternoon, the entire concept of investigating a disappearance via a themed party... i could go on and on, but i said this was brief.

5. i think the actual problem a lot of people have with playboyy is that it doesn't care about straight people.

6. what i mean by that is that playboyy is not a universal story. you could not plug different characters with different sexualities into the plot and preserve the essence of the story. the gayness of the characters is integral to the plot. the sex work is integral to the plot. this is not a world where homophobia doesn't exist and being gay is just like being straight.

7. additionally, these characters are all performing gender in a specifically queer way. they are femmes and fags, they are obvious, they are clockable, they're visible. when nice gays talk about the people who are giving gays a bad reputation and making it harder for everyone (to assimilate into heteropatriarchy) they're talking about playboyy gays.

8. comparing playboyy to only friends is low hanging fruit at this point, but i would argue that the reason boston stood out in that cast and was so viciously punished by the ending is because he was a fag stuck in a nice gays narrative.

9. and this is where the fandom homophobia comes in. so, so many people describe these characters and chaotic and messy, watchable as incoherent and vaguely amusing from a distance, but without real substance. the resulting narrative is often that no one could take their characters or their stories seriously or resonate with them.

10. again, why? why was ray and sand's high and low, blow up fights, calling each other whores relatable but soong and first's miscommunications about what they mean to each other unbelievable chaos? why is white taking black's place an acceptable plot point, but nont pretending to be nant is absurd?

11. most bls do not deal with flamboyance except in limited capacities by comedic side characters. flamboyance is a baseline trait for most of the playboyy characters. so if they feel too much, too loud, too out there, consider asking yourself why they do.

12. to a large extent, i think a lot of the criticism of playboyy is rooted in a bad faith refusal to engage with the show beyond a surface level pearl clutching about the sexual content. the unspoken belief here being that sex scenes are inherently vulgar distractions. they can't be integral to characters or their relationships. they can't be vital pieces of a narrative.

to which i say, there are nine thousand other BLs out there where the kissing is chaste and sex scenes are ~tastefully abstracted shots of shoulder blades and hands. watch those instead.

13. if you decide you want to watch it anyway, take a couple minutes to examine what parts of the show make you uncomfortable and why. and to be clear, i think there’s a lot of value in watching things that make you uncomfortable; media is often one of the best ways to dip into interrogating your emotional responses from a safe distance. 

but don’t use discomfort to dismiss the possibility that there’s meaningful artistic and stylistic choices made to serve a meaningful narrative. take a second to sit with your reactions and ask yourself where it’s coming from. 

#playboyy #playboyy meta #i want you all to know i hunted through three emails to find the rhetoric of camp essay i wrote in college for this

[chronically-ghosted]

you got your claws in me honey, like a tiger in love

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

word count: 8K

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

summary: you arrive at your estranged uncle's door. what else is there to do but catch up over grilled cheese? well, if you have anything to say about it, you might end up doing a bit more.

warnings: dbf!dieter, grilled cheese as a way to guilt trip your dad's best friend/uncle into fucking you, drug use (weed), raising arizona that comes with its own warning, flirting with someone twice your age, no smut — that’s what part 2 is for, reminiscing, a cliffhanger? 👀

a/n: the original fic came out MONTHS before the mcu rumors, so either i have precognition, or the apocalypse is becoming predicable. happy valentine's day you filthy animals because nothing says romance like porking your dad's best friend

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From the voicemail of Mr. Paul Landeau, official Hollywood talent manager and agent to one Mr. Dieter Bravo . . .

Tuesday, 6:43PM

No, I’m not doing it. I’m not. 

There has to be something else out there. Look, I know Fire Monsters: A Cliff Beasts story didn’t do as well as we hoped, but Reddit says it could be a cult classic so why don’t you focus on making that happen, okay? Instead of giving me shit roles like this. I’m not doing it. 

– the sound of a door opening and the phone being shuffled – – a zipper rips –  – liquid pouring –

We fucking talked about this, man. I told you I needed something different, something new. Tiktok is just reels of me screaming and dying – it’s fucking bullshit – 

– more liquid –

I’m done playing the fucking bad guy. I’m not signing any more headless action figures for those little snot-nosed, little fuckers in line. I’m not asking to sign their moms’ tits, either – okay, maybe – but Jesus Christ, Paul, what you sent over is, like, the opposite of where I need to be. It’s for little teeny boppers with one or two B horror movies under their belt to finally break out into the mainstream – or where actors over forty go to cash in an easy paycheck. And yes, I fucking know we need something, but fuck – is this really all there is?

– liquid stops pouring – – zipper rips – – the sound of a toilet flushing –

Don’t fucking call me back, Paul, unless you’ve got something. Something real.

Tuesday, 8:23PM

OW! Motherf–

– a skillet clattering – 

Okay – fuck, that hurts – okay, Paul, what about this? It came to me in the bathroom. Remember Jack from the Christmas party at the studio’s place? So, he’s got those two Sundance films, right, but they’re in Spanish, so not appealing to an American audience. Nicki told me that he’s thinking about doing another project, one with a wider appeal, and I’m thinking I should totally give him a call. I think we could vibe. I really liked his stuff – reminded me of my old small town, fucking around with the neighbor kids, you know? Kinda hometown hero sort of thing. 

– sharp inhale then a cough – 

It’s not my usual thing, but I think we should give it a try. Gimme a call. 

Oh, do you know how to make a grilled cheese sandwich? Been craving one but I think I might burn down my house if I try again and UberEats doesn’t reach the good places further south. Oh, fuck, wait – 

Hey Google, how do you make a fucking excellent grilled cheese?

Tuesday, 9:21PM

No, fucking– 

Siri – how.do.you.treat.a.burn? 

Calling. . . Burger King . . .

No! Fuck!

Tuesday, 10:49PM

Paul-y! Baby! Paul-ito!

Don’t worry. I got an idea that’s going to make us a million dollars. 

A shop that makes only grilled cheese. But like – fancy grilled cheese. What do the kids fucking call it, ah – boogie – yeah, boogie grilled cheese. Like gouda and white cheddar, and butter churned by blind nuns or some shit. Tomato soups that have been blessed by the Dalai Lama. 

Big sign out front that says, Vegans Can Eat Shit. 

They’ll eat it up. 

Fuck yeah, they will. 

– silence for three minutes and sixteen seconds –

Fuck acting, man. Fuck this place. 

And fuck this fucking cheese that keeps burning – goddamn it!

Tuesday, 11:52PM

Paul, why don’t we hang out anymore?

When I got started, we hung out all the time, man. 

Hot dogs on the Santa Monica pier. Beer in the Pacific Ocean. 

You showed me all the cool spots that no one else in LA knew about. You got me my first bump and my first stripper. God, that was fucking wild, man, you remember? I was so nervous I thought I was going to throw up. Did I ever tell you that before? Coke probably didn’t help a kid from a small town in South Cali, but – fuck, it made me feel better. Like I could get my shit together if I really tried.  

What, are you too good for me now – is that it? Am I not good enough for you, huh? 

Look, I’ve got Raising Arizona on right now, so why don’t you come over with a six pack – 

Oh, shit, that’s right. You got a fucking family now. 

Not a good influence, ol’ Dee. 

Not a good –

 

Wednesday, 1:05AM

Fine, Paul. Fine. 

I’ll play Mr. Fantastic in the Fantastic Four reboot. 

Dieter’s thumb brushes the red End Call button and tosses his phone onto the kitchen island with a growl. He can feel himself coming down from the bump earlier – a thing he absolutely did not want to happen – and he shoves his palms into his eye sockets. 

There is more coke upstairs, but that would require him to walk through his very long hallways to get there. Very long, and dark, and empty hallways. 

He should have asked Maria to stay once she was done with the laundry. He would have done it right too – big bowl of popcorn, fully dressed, with a sign around his neck that said, I promise I’m not trying to sleep with you. 

He is becoming increasingly aware of how many erratic voicemails he just left for his agent, aware that behavior like that was libel to get him a sit down in Paul’s office with all the blinds and windows closed, Paul’s narrow face serious and using Concerned Emotion #5, as he asks, “do we need to go back to rehab, Dieter?”

We. 

There once was a “we”, now there was just “he” – in a house with seven bedrooms and a pool that could fit a sixteen wheeler in it. 

And TWO kitchens – why the fuck did he think he needed two kitchens – 

Well, he knew he didn’t need two, but it would have been cool to show them off to someone – If there was anyone to show them off to . . .

Fuck this downer mood.

Dieter snatches up his phone again, and the movement brings up his latest apps. UberEats is the second one. He taps in a few keywords, blatantly ignoring his latest call list. 

Goddamn Burger King . . . 

The front doorbell rings. 

Dieter frowns, pulling the screen closer under his big nose. Now, he knows he is high and he knows he should be wearing his glasses when reading but there’s no fucking way . . .

He goes out of the kitchen, the room still smelling of burnt cheese with the cast iron skillet in the sink and a black husk sticking to its bottom. He goes left, then right, his robe tightly wrapped around him as if he is some huffy housewife, then down a hall and across the marble entrance way – fuming – why is this house so goddamn huge – who thought this was a good idea?

And so he wrenches open the front door – to a girl, not holding a Burger King bag. No, she’s got a roller suitcase behind her, bright blue, and she and the case are dripping wet. Like, just sprayed with a hose kind of wet and her big bottom lip is trembling. Behind her, the sky pukes buckets of rain, groaning with thunder. 

Now, he likes his call girls (he always thought it was classier to call them that) a little more . . . vampy than this, but hell, he had been turned on by much less than this— than her with her big eyes, fat droplets rolling off her lashes, flushed cheeks – and oh, shit, her shirt is totally see-through – is that purple, he feels the back of his mouth flush with spit – wow, is this Paul’s way of apology because – 

“Uncle Dee?” 

And he’s mentally shoving himself back into his pants because no one in years has called him that and that was a very different time in place, when he was a completely different person and if this girl is the person he thinks it is, then – Jesus Christ, he’s bound and gagged straight for hell – 

He squeaks out your name and you smile, sort of grimace, at him and wave. 

“Yep, it’s me. Been awhile, right?” You finally give into the mortification of your stupid plan and you scrunch up your face, your hand wrapped around your elbow. “Look, I’m so sorry, this is too weird. I don’t have your number, but I panicked when my flight got canceled and my phone’s dead and you’re the only person I know in LA and –,” 

“No, no – you’re fine – sorry–,” Dieter blinks before stepping back and letting you through. You sigh in relief and yank your baby blue suitcase over the threshold as you walk in, dripping water everywhere. “Sorry, it’s been a weird night and for, like, two seconds, I thought . . . nevermind . . .”

I thought you were a fucking ghost.

You bite the corner of your lip, glancing at him, knowing it was probably unwise to piss off your one chance at not sleeping on the ground tonight — or if what you were about to say would piss him off in the first place. 

“Yeah, well, it’s been eleven years since we last saw you, Uncle Dee.” 

Early on in his career, he wanted to build up rep as not only an actor but a real tough guy, so he asked if he could do some stunts for an old cop show. For all his bravado, he ended up getting a real round-house kick to the face and it sent him reeling.

This feels a little bit like that.

“No way, it can’t have been that long. Besides, I know I left my number with your dad or your grandma before I left and —,” 

His throat closes up when very old guilt washes over him. It’s intensified when you give him an uncomfortable look.

“So your dad didn’t give you my number then.”

It’s not a question. You shake your head. You don’t tell him that your dad tried to call years ago and got a busy tone for the first few, and then a few years after that, was brusquely informed the line had been disconnected. 

He chews on his lip. 

You try to smile at him again but then another shiver takes hold of you and Dieter grimaces. “Shit, sorry, one second. I think this closet down here has towels.” 

He all but sprint-walks down one of the many halls branching off from the entrance, the ends of his robes flapping. You hear the creak of doors, several, as he digs around in the walls. 

“Why do I have so many fucking linens?” You hear him grumble and you smile to yourself. You feel like you need to wring your hair out but wouldn’t dare move from the spot where he left you.

After a thump and more grumbling, he comes back, rubbing the back of his head, but holding out a giant lime green towel. In the light, you can see the dark circles under his eyes when you take the towel and immediately go to stop your hair from dripping on the marble.

His brain is waffling, ping ponging, between his memories and what is standing right in front of him. This? This is the little girl, not his literal blood relative, but she’s Enrico’s kid – Enrico, a slugger and one hell of a outfielder since he was eight years old, whose mom made enchiladas like nobody else in the goddamn world – Enrico, whose house became like a second home, Ricky's family a better family than his own – this is the same girl who hoarded Skittles like a fiend, the same one who he took to the pool on the weekends in the summer, and the zoo during Thanksgiving break? This little girl – 

– is the same girl who is all legs under damp denim, eyes that could make Cleopatra fly into a jealous rage, and a fucking rockstar smile? 

And, holy shit, those tits –  

Dude, you cannot be checking her out. Dig deep and fight your fucking caveman brain. You’ve fucked up a lot in your life and you cannot do that right now. You cannot do that to Enrico. 

You cannot do that to her.

You notice him grimace as he squints into the light of the chandelier above you both. “So, uh, not that I mind, but, uh, what are you doing here? I mean –,” 

You laugh and it seems to echo in the empty house. “No, that’s a fair question. I was on a flight back from looking at colleges out east and my flight got grounded in LAX because of the storm. I absolutely don’t have enough money to stay in a hotel or rent a car and drive back home, so I needed a place to crash and call my sister to send me some money. And my stupid driver didn’t want to get flagged for harassing a celebrity, so he dropped me off at the corner, hence . . .”

You wave at yourself and inside his slippers, his toes curl, respectfully not looking at your damp legs and a definitely purple bra visible through your shirt. 

Your mouth suddenly capsizes. “Shit, is that okay, if I stay here for a night? I didn’t even think - I - I’m not . . . interrupting anything, am I?” 

Dieter chuckles, your expression undeniably cute, and he shoves his hands into the pockets of his robe. 

“Nah. Not unless you call making the worst grilled cheese imaginable a party.” 

At that moment, your stomach chooses to make the most aggressive growl in your entire life and you flush deeper than the cold outside. 

“Apparently someone thinks that’s a good idea,” you chuckle weakly, horrified that your body is actively trying to sabotage a normal conversation. 

Did it matter that you had posters of him in your bedroom when you were thirteen? That you went to midnight releases of every one of his movies? 

No. Not at all. 

“I got some food, mostly leftovers.” He worries at his lip as he realizes the only thing by way of something green in his fridge is the jar of olives he got for martinis. Even then, he has a sneaking suspicion he replaced the olive juice with vodka, but the memory of that night is entirely butchered. “But, uh, I’m sure we can find something.”

You smile at him. “Actually, grilled cheese sounds great.” 

“Only if you do it.” He smiles, honestly, when you laugh. “What? Don’t laugh — I’m serious. I can’t make a sandwich to save my fucking life.” 

“Pretty sure I can manage two slices of bread and cheese.” 

His eyebrows jump as his lips press themselves together and you watch the thumb-sized bare spot on his beard twitch.

“Yeah, that’s what you think and then your goddamn kitchen is on fire.” 

“Lemme change, do some rocket surgery and brain science, and then I’ll attempt to crack this grilled cheese thing.” 

“Okay, but remember we do have Chinese leftovers and I can definitely crush a microwave. This way.” 

You follow him through the halls, his shoulders loosening underneath the off-green fuzz, and you try and not to stare at the immaculately beautiful walls and expansive, clean floors, so your eyes wander, and then you’re trying not to stare at the immaculately beautiful man in front of you. 

You push away the thought that this house looks nothing like you’d expect someone like Dieter to have, as he leads you to the kitchen — all black and chrome and steel, like what a Norwegian serial killer would have — and nods to a door towards the opposite wall. He’s digging around for the last slices of white bread when he says,

“Bathroom’s down there. I’ll get it all ready, but I’m leaving it up to you. Can’t afford to lose another pan.” 

Your eyes finally drift down from the bare walls, unsure if you should be offended that nothing of the family back home is here, or accept that there was just nothing personal anywhere. You smile gently at him and nod in thanks. 

He watches you go, that bright blue suitcase flashing as loud as a tornado siren, and he shakes his head. God, he needs a drink but drinking also makes him horny and he needs every mental facility available to him if he wis going to make it through this night with his sanity still intact. 

Had it really been eleven years? He always meant to call up Enrico and the old neighborhood gang. He probably forgot about that last fight anyway – even if Dieter hadn’t – even if it wasn’t more than a decade ago. Mama Gonzales always said there’d be a place for him, even after his own father said acting was for maricos and drag queens. It always hurt more when the postcards from the Gonzales family stopped coming than when Mom stopped calling. And he always meant to send back a proper return address when he moved out of that crappy loft after his first real movie premiere but that was the 90s, and much of the 90s was spent between working shit jobs and drooling on the floors of rave warehouses. It wasn’t them specifically he didn’t want to see him like that, but anyone. Anyone who knew him before Dieter Bravo. 

Certainly not anyone who called him Uncle Dee —

Something flashes in the corner of his eye and he realizes he’s always fucking hated the fact that the a) the back of his house is just one big window and b) he never bothered to put in curtains. Because, the thing with windows is they reflect things — things like his pseudo-niece taking her top off in his guest bathroom. Reflected and in full color right across his kitchen island like the sexiest hologram that will haunt his fucking wet dreams until the day hell freezes over. 

Yep, that’s definitely your hips, your ribs, and okay—

Nope. Absolutely not. 

Dieter’s knees give out and he crouches (more like slumps) to the floor behind the island, his palms so far in his eye sockets he can only see stars.

Yeah, only stars. Focus on the stars, not the image of the curve of your gorgeous tits that’s running around his brain like a child with scissors and a Thanatos instinct off the fucking charts. 

Fuck, and he just wanted to get high and watch Nicholas Cage in a mullet. 

“Hey, I’m done. Dee, you still here?”

He stifles a groan and stands up. You smile at him, the wet jeans and agonizing white tank top gone, only to be replaced by a black Fleetwood Mac tshirt and — fuck, where are your pants?

You lower the handle to your suitcase and go to stow by the bathroom door. And that’s when he realizes you are actually wearing pants, black shorts that are practically hidden by the oversized t-shirt and are comically, hilariously, painfully small. He can’t actually see the curve of your ass as you walk around the side of the island but he is absolutely not going to let his gaze linger long enough to confirm. 

He clears his throat as you come to stand beside him. He gestures to the four pieces of white bread and a stack of Crafts American cheese. 

“H-h-have —,” he clears his throat again and his forebearers groan collectively in embarrassment. “Have at it.” 

You smile and tuck your hair over your ear before picking up the knife. 

“D’you have mayonnaise? Butter?”  

No amount of irredeemable hotness can distract him from that. “What? What do you need mayonnaise for? It’s grilled cheese.”

You cluck your tongue, an eyebrow raised. “Brain science and rocket surgery, remember? Don’t question the master.”

He can’t help but chuckle as he goes to his steel monolith of a fridge. 

“Jeez, sorry, I asked,” he grumbles playfully.

He comes back with an (thankfully) unexpired jar and tub of butter and you get to work. Silence stretches a bit too long, something Dieter has never been good with, especially with beautiful women. He loves running his mouth and sometimes he's found that the women liked it too. He resigns himself to sit across from you at the island, watching you spread mayonnaise on both sides of the bread. 

“So, uh, how are the folks? How’s your, uh, dad?”

You nod slowly and even though he hasn’t been around in eleven years to pick up on all your tells, he swears your hackles go up.

“Fine. All good. Dad’s still at the car repair shop — owns it now, actually. Makes decent money, I guess.” 

“You guess?” He hadn’t made it his life’s work to mimic the human condition to not recognize cagey language. 

You glance at him briefly before flipping over the last piece of bread and dropping a dollop of mayonnaise on top. 

“Yeah. I — uh, we haven’t — I actually haven’t talked to them in a while. Though if I had, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.” You sneak another glance, this one ladened with a smile that had a secret curled up in its corners. “Serves me right, probably.”

“Yeah. Probably.” 

He can’t help but return the smile, one of a familiarity he hasn’t earned yet. You were smiling at him as if you two had years of secrets together, memories and inside jokes that were for the pair of you alone. For the life of him and all the water in his ridiculous pool, he couldn’t fathom why you were being so nice to him. Letting him off the hook. It had been eleven fucking years after all. There are a lot of things he takes guilt free from the world. Your fucking star-eyed smile is not one of them. 

So, he lets you off the hook. He doesn’t push it. If you don’t want to talk about your folks, he is happy to chatter aimlessly about something else. But, his brain winds up, what happened that caused you to fall out with your parents? Enrico, even back then, had been a hard ass, with you and your brothers. Always made sure to walk the straight and narrow. Detested drugs, always shined his shoes, thought tattoos were the devil, never kissed a girl on the first date — 

And here you are, making fucking mooneyes at his daughter. 

Well, one thing was for sure, he muses, something warm spreading in his gut, you are nothing like your daddy. 

The hiss of the bread hitting the hot butter in a pan (you didn’t even need to ask where another pan was, you just helped yourself to his cabinets and he couldn’t have been more proud) jerks him out of his daze and he realizes that annoying silence has set in again. 

“So, colleges, huh? Anything in particular spark interest?” 

You nod excitedly as he found a topic that made you glow. Clearly, no one had asked about your interests in a long time.

“Yeah, actually. Emerson in Boston was amazing. I loved the city, but not sure I’d survive the winter. Swarthmore sounds good, Amherst too, but again, cold.” You grin sheepishly and flip the sandwiches, pressing the spatula (he didn’t even know he owned one of those) into the bread, making the butter sizzle and the air fill with a smell that can only be described as mouth-watering. 

“It’ll be a nightmare, taking out loans for those places, but fuck, I think I’d be really happy there.” 

He leans against the counter, facing you with crossed arms. He smiles a smile that he knows doesn’t reach his eyes.

“What, your folks wouldn’t pay for it? Or at least help out?”

Something sharp flashes in your eyes, like a rabbit catching the scent of a predator, before you shrug your shoulders flippantly. A well-worn deflection, he notes, right next to the place where he’s got all the places you mentioned are about as far away from California as possible. If you had mentioned somewhere in Europe, he wouldn’t have been surprised. 

“Nah. I wouldn’t let them. Don’t want them thinking they get input into my life because they hold the purse strings over my head.” You turn off the stove and he moves to get the plates out from the cabinets – something to contribute as you made him a better meal than he’s had in ages. 

“So, uh, we eat in there?” You glance down the hall to the eerily clean dining room, a place he’s pretty sure he’s never once set foot in after three years of living in this goddamn mansion. 

He chuckles and shakes his head. “C’mon, I already have a movie picked out.” 

You follow him, plates hot, down carpeted stairs to clearly the only room in the house that Dieter actually lives in. The lights down here are low, much more bearable than the white spotlights of the kitchen. Against one wall, there’s a fully stocked bar, with most of the alcohol halfway empty and costing a fortune. Across from the stairs is a massive record collection, going up to the ceiling, next to a gorgeous old record player — all wood and black vinyl — with big, plushy earphones curled up on a black leather recliner. 

But the star of the show is the wall-to-ceiling television, with a brown, mouse-soft leather sofa that wraps like a giddy, up-turned grin in front of it. 

And of course, in between the superstar television and the cozy couch, is a low glass table where he had snorted lines of coke more times he could count and where a virgin joint sits, unsmoked and tempting. 

Dieter flushes as though he’d been caught by his parents with his pants down around his ankles. 

“Fuck, sorry–,” he rushes over, the plate clattering with the glass, and he reaches for the joint, ready to squish it into his pocket when– 

You laugh. “Relax, Dee, I know what a joint is. In fact, we are very well acquainted.”

You fold yourself into the couch, legs crossed, grinning at him as you bite into your sandwich. 

He swallows, unclenching slightly as he sits down next to you. He watches you eat for a moment, trying to think of something cool to say.

“Sounds like I’ve missed my calling as the fun uncle, getting you high for the first time and all that.” 

You snort and swallow your mouthful. “Yeah, by like two fucking years.” 

“Oh, what a fucking lifetime. You poor thing,” he says, pouting dramatically and you giggle again, bumping into his shoulder. It sends his sanity knocking around in his brain. 

You don’t notice, though, your eyes falling to the joint in the small ceramic bowl. The smile slides from your face. 

“Well, you might have missed my first joint, but I’d be more than happy to take this one as my next.”

His eyebrows practically bounce off his forehead. “You’re serious?” 

Your eyes slide away from the joint to his, something distractingly dark hiding there. “I mean, if the parties on your Instagram are anything to go by . . . And, well, when in Rome . . .”

You trail off, smirking, gesturing around you as if you had any idea the levels of debauchery that were obtained in this very room. Come to think of it, he halfway considers picking you up off the couch and putting a towel down underneath your perfect ass. 

This is how it went sometimes, with the slower hook ups. No wet clothes, or grilled cheese, or bringing up family trauma — but initial touches, curling smiles, and then drugs. Always drugs. As if there needed to be another hand that tore off the cap of the pressurized, fizzy soda bottle. He’d play music then, for them, to show off his vinyl collection and have a plausible reason to rub his dick between their ass cheeks while dancing slowly to something croon-y from the seventies. 

Not that any of that would be happening with you. 

He wasn’t a complete monster after all. 

With a playful grin that he had mastered over many press junkets, he snatches up the joint and lighter, and presents both to you in the flat of his hand. 

“First hit goes to you, since you were so kind to make dinner for an old fuck like me.” 

You snort and put your plate onto the table, wiping your hands free of crumbs on your black shirt. 

“Such a gentleman.” 

With deft and practiced hands, you take the joint between your index finger and your thumb, and sparking the lighter, brought the flame to your lips. 

Just for one second, one goddamn second, he swears he saw The Look reflected in your eyes. He glances away, his cock fluttering awake like goddamn Lassy hearing the calls of another well-begotten child. He picks up his own plate.

“Hardly. It was all a ploy to get you to admit you follow me on Instagram.”

You burst out coughing, smoke chugging from your nose and mouth. “Dieter!”

He cackles, his tongue between his teeth, as you shove him away from you — do not think about her fingers clenched around your bicep —  try to sit up and inhale again. You hang your head and groan. 

“Fuck, I can’t believe I said that.” 

“Yeah, and for that, I get two puffs,” he says out of the corner of his mouth, the rest of it full of the most perfectly cooked grilled cheese sandwich he’d ever had. He finishes chewing and swallows. “Hand it over, princess.” 

You hand over the lighter and the joint, the paper slightly greasy from your fingers, leaning back dramatically into one of the many plushy cup holder seats spread out along the very long couch. 

He chuckles devilishly again, far too satisfied, as he lights up and leans back into the cushions. 

“And, as gesture of goodwill, I’ll admit that’s a good fucking grilled cheese.” 

Your eyes snap open and a wide grin splits your face. “Hell yes! Mayonnaise on both sides, butter on the side with cheese. Best family recipe. Mwah!”

“Fuck, even I know that’s too much cholesterol for me,” he grunts and digs into the cushions, feeling around for the remote. 

“Well, that’s not enough cholesterol for me,” you wink as you take the joint from the hand on his thigh, eyes daring you to do something about it. Nowhere near high enough to take the bait, he just narrows his eyes at you as he clicks the button and the entertainment system comes to life with a primordial hum. 

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, eyes wide, as the speakers roar and the lights dim further and the screen glows, “it’s like I’m in a fucking movie theater . . . in space.”

“It’s great, right?” Dieter moans like a loving father over his first child. This thing is his pride and joy, the only thing he could stomach in this goddamn house.

The DVD buffer for Raising Arizona begins and you squeal quietly, sliding onto your back, the joint dangling between your lips. 

“No fucking way, I love this movie.” 

Dieter stilled. “Really? You do?” 

The few times he felt nostalgic for his old life — his old, old life when he was still a kid from nowhere, a nobody, you couldn’t pick him out of a line up of his sweaty, grubby cousins when they were all cobbled together like crooked teeth in front of Abuela Josefina’s television that still had knobs and bunny ears to watch movie after movie of Nicholas Cage reruns. Even with knees in his back, elbows in his ears, Dieter could quote every single line, his heart swelling.

That’s gonna be me some day. 

“This movie is from, like, another century,” he mutters as he watches you settle in, something sickening like adoration clawing up in his chest. 

“Yeah and it’s great,” you say eagerly, ignoring the way he plucks the joint out of your fingers. “Put it on!” 

He resolutely ignores the pinch in his low stomach at your almost whine and presseS the play button with a little more force than necessary. Then, balancing the joint on the ceramic bowl, he sticks his fingers into his robe, pulls out his glasses, and puts them on without a second thought – just as he always did when watching movies. 

It is only when he realizes he doesn’t hear you breathing that he realizes what he has done. Slowly he pulls the square glasses off his face and looks at them, feeling as disgusted as the day his doctor put them in his hands. 

Near-sighted. Very common. Happens when people as they age.

“Got ‘em–,” his throat closes again, “got ‘em a few years ago. Only have to wear ‘em to see things up close and, uh . . . Well, I think they make me look old as shit.” 

He can’t quite look at you, unsure what he’ll see on your face and knowing for sure that he couldn’t stand it if it wasn’t the way you look at him before. If you just would tease him about it, then —

“No,” you say, your voice very soft and small. His heart nearly punches out his throat, his neck nearly snapping in half as his head whips up to look at you. You sit up on your elbows, the darkness of the room cushioning your soft cheeks and muting the glaze in your eyes as you watch him over the bend of your knees. 

“Nah,” you say, your nose scrunching, the weight of the high clearly settling into your skin, “they make you look . . . Uh, they’re cute.” 

Dieter sucks in the side of his cheek, nodding slowly and sliding the glasses back over his nose. Cute, he could work with that. 

“Jeez, would you start the movie already?” You poke his side with your toe. He doesn’t need to look at you to hear the faint blush in your voice. 

He turns the volume up and crosses his arms, smiling faintly. You’re warm next to him, he thinks vaguely, his own high finally starting to sink into his bones. 

Cute. Definitely not a word he’s going to obsess over. 

The movie goes on. 

Nicholas Cage is Nicholas Cage with a mullet.

Your laugh is the clattering of bells in his ears and he can’t remember the last time he laughed so hard his sides hurt. 

He’s coming up from bent over, knees almost to his chest, laughter nearly popping his ribs, when he realizes your feet are in his lap. The arches of your soles, the delicate bones of your ankles, the long smooth planes that run up to your gorgeous calves— 

They are there, in his lap, and you don’t seem to mind. Head turned towards the screen, face bright from laughing, your arm arched back over your head, pressing your chest up —  it’s like you meant for them to be there. 

It’s just one hand, right? Two at the most. Just putting his hands down where he had them a moment ago. Up and — down. 

You don't flinch. His palm is on the arched top of your foot, the other just above your other ankle. 

You do smile, but that might have been because of Nicholas Cage raging again. 

And then, during another bout of giggles, he clutches your shin bone, wraps his fingers around your heel, and laughs and laughs and laughs. 

You wipe the tears away from your eyes, the end credits rolling.

“Fuck, that’s a such a good movie.” 

He swallows, swiping quickly under his glasses before taking them off and chucking them onto the table in front. 

“You’re fucking right it is,” he says hoarsely, leaning forward and plucking up the last of the joint. He inhales, letting the smoke ease stifle the tears in the corner of his eyes, gulping down a breath before offering it to you.

You take it, distracted, eyes on the credits, the light from the screen glowing on your cheeks. 

He presses up under your ankle with his middle finger. “What? You knew what was gonna happen, you’d said you’d seen it before.”  

You nodded, still not looking at him. 

He goes for a more direct approach. He pinches your calf, and you scowl, the light back in your eyes.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, a bit sharply. He’s not nearly done having fun with you, not nearly. You take another sip of smoke before setting the joint back on the table. 

You huff, settling onto your back, pinching at your nails. 

“Just . . . Nothing, it’s stupid.”

Dieter hums. He knows when to let him come to you. He taps the arch of your foot.

“How are you feeling?” His gaze nudges the joint on the table. 

You grin. “Really good. Tingly. Warm. Like everything else is a million miles away.” 

Just the two of us. 

“Enough to tell ol’ Uncle Dee what’s on your mind?”

You roll your eyes and sit up a bit, yanking a pillow behind you. 

“Just thinkin’ about the old days, I guess.” You glance up at him from under your eyes. “Not in a bad way. At all. I just . . .”

“What?” If you gave him hell for the last eleven years, then fuck it, he deserved it. He pulls at your ankle. “What?” 

With a big sigh, you lean back, something finally breaking and, with it, comes a great big smile. 

“Okay, remember when you’d put on those plays with the rest of us kids during those super lame family reunions o-o-or Christmas? Marissa would have everything written out, all the cousins cast and you’d beg her to let you play – fucking – Bear Number 5 or something ridiculous – and she’d fight you on it but she’d relent, always putting on a show of her own – as if a ten year old could be put out like that.” You giggled, biting on your thumb, a sparkling in your eyes that made something in his chest burn. 

Yes, he remembers the incredibly stupid fuzzy ears and the bear claw mittens. The fake roaring. TMZ would have a fucking stroke if those pictures of him, baby-faced, were to ever surface online. He smiles at you and basks in the warmth of those memories, his high making them brighter. 

“I think it would have crushed her little heart if you didn’t ask,” you said, heavy-lidded eyes on you again. “I know it broke her when you stopped showing up at all.” 

His heart actually pinches at that. He knows you’re not scolding him but fuck, maybe he’d feel better if you did. What a fucking idiot he was, for leaving all of that for empty mansions and meals from UberEats and all this fucking gunked up shit in his veins that made him feel older and older every year. Like he was chasing something that was never real in the first place. 

“Look, honey,” the pet name is out of his mouth before he can stop it. He’s twisting towards you, both hands under your calves now. “I should have called. Should have made sure that at least you knew where to find me, even if things between your dad and I were fucked.”

“Oh, God, Dee, no. I don’t blame you. I don’t even blame my dad, sometimes. You just were very different people. He’s fine living his life in the same small ass town in the middle of nowhere. But you weren’t. And, fuck . . . I’m not either.”

He frowns. You bite your lip and continue.

“You know, I thought about following you out to Hollywood. Because of those plays. I had the best fucking time doing them and Hollywood didn’t seem so scary . . . with Uncle Dee out here. But, uh, I dunno. I grew up, I guess. Figured I was better at telling stories than performing them. I just knew I didn’t want to end up like my dad. Dying where I lived. Unremembered.” 

His gut doubles in on itself. Please don’t say you gave up your dreams because I stopped calling. 

“Do you still think about acting?” He asks quietly, trying to fight the faint ringing in his ears. 

“Oh God, no,” you wave your hands, dusting away his near-panic that he’d somehow ruined your life. “I really do prefer writing stories, even if they exist only within the pages of a book. Or a really bad pamphlet, once or twice. I tried to continue the plays at home for a few years, after you left and Marissa took up cheerleading and thought she was too old to play with her little cousins anymore. But it just wasn’t the same without her. Or you.” 

He realizes all too late that he can feel your pulse under your ankle. Strong. Pounding. Pounding, hard. Like you’re nervous. So struck by the notion that he can feel something so personal of yours, the smoke trapped in his brain lifts only slightly when he catches your eyes looking somewhere you absolutely should not be. 

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck, he knows that look. You blink at him, then your gaze slowly slides down, down to his crotch, as smoothly you can beneath the weight of the smoke in your brain and he battles between the desire to throw your legs off him or pull you underneath him.

It’s The Look. 

Men, women, it didn’t matter. The look was the same.

When the possibility of sex first enters their mind, when that first bloom of lust rushes down their spine and the memory of the physical exertion of fucking – all the panting and the heavy breathing, aching muscles and sweat – comes back, as real as a song stuck in your head. When that spark of imagination threatens to sway from the hypothetical to the actual, it’s a look he knows so fucking well, he might as well be able to carve it from clay, blind-folded. 

And you’re giving it to him, right now. 

You haven’t really thought about seducing him yet, no, that part hasn’t crossed your mind yet. But you definitely are imagining what his cock would feel like inside you, and you and your imagination and your wide-eyed gaze at his lap all whole-heartedly agreed: that would be a great fucking thing. 

You, on your elbows, your heel dangerously close to his half-hard cock, the glaze in your eyes having something to do with what you were so shamelessly picturing, and your short breath having everything to do with what you were so shamelessly picturing.

He was quite sure you were completely unaware of the expression your face was making. Eyes hooded, mouth parted, breath short. Masking your emotions and filthy thoughts is a skill set mastered later in life and perhaps the last time you looked at someone like that, they simply bent you over the nearest surface and railed you till your knees buckled. 

What a fucking excellent idea, his libido trilled. Now get off the couch and do something about it. I’m foaming at the fucking mouth here, man. 

Dieter silences his inner horny monster, unintentionally squeezing his hand, the one that happens to be wrapped around your calf. 

The movement seems to break you out of your dizzying spiral and you blink up at him.

He swallows. With a half smirk on the edge of your lips that you try to not let him see, you take your feet out of his lap, then reach forward, your palm alarmingly high on his thigh as you take the joint from his fingers. Your eyes flash like warning signs.

DANGER. DANGER, WILL ROBINSON. DANGER.

“So, you gonna give me a tour of this place or what?”

End of Part 1 | Next

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #the bubble fanfic #the bubble 2016 #the bubble fic #the bubble fanfiction

[boiledbirdy]

BRAD FUCKIN WAYNEEE

headcannons i have abt this sweet himbo fratboy

This man is the largest in the family, like 6’6 and built like a non-green hulk. He can easily pick up and fireman carry Bruce and Jason

Is the guy in a frat party to sit with girls and hear about them bitch about periods and now carries a little pack with him everywhere that has a few tampons, pads, hand-warmers (for on the go heating pads), and Tylenol and Advil

Where does he keep this stuff and the random assortment of weird things he has, you ask? He wears a fanny-pack

read it and weep y’all he wears fanny-packs, usually the cool way over his shoulder, but mostly around his waist since he carries a backpack almost 25/8

He drives a beater truck (just an old car whose been through like three accidents and is still going strong) specifically a 1991 dodge D250 truck with a scratched up white paint job where there are dents, scratches, and a few patches of off white paint on dents that was sorta DIY-ed

his keys 🔑 have a weird ass mesh of keychains on it like: Ally flag keychain and a flag keychain for every single label a person has come out to him with, also a keychain from every museum, tourist spot he’s ever been, also a beer and bottle opener he’s a frat boy duhhh, he has a little bracelet that is made of sparkles and purple beads that steph gave to him but it was too small so he put it on his keys, a collage logo keychain, a keychain from his local gym and one with rugby on it etc

the keychains and keys are never ending

HE PLAYS RUGBY, argue with the wall.

getting a bachelors and masters in sports medicine

he makes sure to give Duke, Damian, Cass, Steph, and Tim copies of his keys first (the rest of the fam too they just get priority)

A) because they are the kids, and he wants them to know that he has an open bed any time

B) cause he’s the sibling to not get mad if they are intoxicated in any form and will cover for them

This next one is so important to me

He takes Tim to his first midnight showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show, same with Damian

He pretty much eats at the Wayne mansion every night but sleeps at his apartment

Shows Damian some good rock’n roll ex Red Hot Chili Peppers, Sublime, Ramones, The Clash, Oingo Boingo, Ghost, Blonde, Foo-Fighters (i can make a playlist if wanted)

Just will sit and have a beer with Jason and sit in silence or talk about weird things that happened today

Steph and him have study sessions together

He will watch any ballet practice Cass wants him to see and he never misses a competition or performance

he sends Tim stupid skateboard tricks and fails videos (tiktok or insta reels) daily and then once a month they take Brad’s truck to a park and Brad sits on a ramp and cheers Tim on like its the Super Bowl

Watches Dick’s dog when he’s away from home and they both watch Barbie movies together

He gardens at Alfred’s request, yes he sucks but this man cannot not say no to the tidbits of Alfred’s life story he learns

Can kick back like 4 kegs of beer with no fucking consequences, he has a liver of steel thanks to Brucie Wayne

He’a the high guy in the bathtub at frat-parties and will give shitty or good life advice its 50/50 honestly

Does stupid white people fraternity things that would kill a normal person but he just is quirkily busting it down and Death just cannot vibe with him

makes (and i cannot stress this enough) the best and i mean best, (Alfred and Ma Kent can’t win in this one) brownies. Whether they are edibles or not they are the best.

has done the Tide-Pod challenge and survived

He is the Frat God of Gotham

Him and Duke are like the best duo

They blast Rock and Rap so that all five cars in every direction can hear it

Duke has the habit of putting weird ass bumper stickers on Brad’s desk and bed frame (at his apartment, they Do Not fuck with Alfred) Brad smiles fondly every time he finds a new one

Brad = Mark, ya know the tiktok sound

Him and Harper simp over women 🙏 together

In his fanny-pack, truck, and various rooms he has stim toys/do-hickeys bins or sections

bc he has Nerodivergent siblings and he was just trying

he asked kinda rude blunt questions, he didn’t know anything and he kinda (really) sucks at subtlety and reading a room but he was just trying to understand

He will take Damian to amusement parks and zoos pretty much bi-weekly

The girls can put on a horrible outfit and makeup and he will think he looks fabulous and no one will ever tell him that he’s sporting fashion and makeup crimes

has a small hidden bookcase of Wings of Fire, Warrior cats, Land of Stories, etc.. cause Damian is embarrassed to admit he actually likes reading them

Watches the trashiest brain rotting tv shows like Dance moms or keeping up with the Kardashians

Goes to any march or parade his siblings or friends are going to so: A) he can be that decked out ally tank of a man passing out water bottles and granola bars B) so if the police are back on their BS he can protecc atacc and throw that tear gas bacc

*Sniff 🤧* I have something I need all of you to know, I say this with a heavy heart *holding back tears 😥* Brad is a former highlighter kid— *single tear falls*

This fucking himbo stud-muffin has slept with, kissed, crushed on, and went on dates with men, but still doesn’t realize that he’s Bisexual

his favorite flavor ice cream is pistachio and carmel

KNOWS NOTHING and i mean nothing about zodiac signs

Has been caught in the middle of Gotham Rouge and does not understand what the fuck is happening

He either Teddy Bear fratboy golden retriever energies them to friendship or friendly acquaintance or annoys them to the high hells of mosquito bites on your butt

^I can expand if wanted

His phone you ask?

Screen cracked like rice crispys

apps more disorganized than the random shit drawer in someone’s house

he has a model 6S and will not upgrade or replace it to save his life.

he has an otterbox case and we all know it, no more denial

Okay thats my time yall see ya

#brad wayne #batfam #batfam hcs #batfamily #dick grayson #jason todd #damian wayne #stephanie brown #cassandra wayne #cass cain #duke thomas #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #brucie wayne #brads contact for Bruce is infact Brooshy dad #He infact has paw patrol bandaids #If damian gets a scrape with brad paw patrol bandaids only

[infaria]

So, so, so, SO many people miss the point of the walten files and it's genuinely saddening, because it is such a delicate story hidden behind horror. What makes the walten files stand out from the rest of the big analog webseries out there is the fact that it's so far the only one that is both horror and drama in genre. The only other online indie horror projects that I've seen put focus on placing actual depth into characters so far is welcome home and the tanji virus/oracle project duology (a duology that I highly recommend people to watch, it deserves more recognition).

Martin has said that there's more to the characters than meets the eye, with bunnyfarm specifically noting that "this is a story about broken people, beautiful people"

This is probably why most theories people make are doomed to fail from my point of view. Martin doesn't seem to be particularly interested in creating an epic horror that ends in a thrilling battle or to create the "most SHOCKING, SCARY analog horror ever?!?!" as random reaction channels title their videos as. Maybe this is why Martin deviated from the original format. The walten files 4, despite being 36 minutes long, did not add too many answers to the mystery. Instead, there was a perfect balance of giving more context as well as well as giving more character to pre-existing characters, such as suzan, ed and molly, the antagonist (whoever he is), felix, jack and charles. All that through dialogue and actual cinematographic scenes. The story wants you to take personality and psychology into account when theorizing as well.

I won't post all my theories, but now that we have 4 out, I'll give my two cents on the "who or what is bon" mystery, based on a mix of character analysis and hints given throughout the episodes, site, hidden media and martin's statements.

I never believed the "felix killed and placed jack into bon" theory as someone who discovered the series after bunnyfarm's release. Felix is a coward, self centered, is irresponsible and refuses to acknowledge his issues. And people mistakenly interpret that as "evil capitalist who only cares about his hide". I won't analyze felix (at least not today), because so far he is the one character who we have the most context about his inner psychology and woo boi, there's a LOT of issues this guy has, but point I am trying to make is that he doesn't seem like the type to kill jack because, believe it or not, from what I can gather, he'd never kill a person on purpose.

The only possible scenario I can see the "felix put jack in bon" theory being true is if jack attacked felix after learning of the kids, so felix accidentally killed him in self defense.

Felix is shown to be alive in 1981, so it's unlikely it is him being bon either. (funnily enough, if that wasn't revealed, I'd think him being bon as a good theory, something that, yet again, I'll probably touch upon a future dissection of his character)

The only two scenarios I can think of is a) either jack put himself, either on purpose, or accidentally in bon, b) bon is a third party or c) jack is bon, but someone else placed him in

Out of these three theories, I believe a) is the least probable, with c) being second in place. It is possible jack got depressed to the point of doing something this intense, however it was implied in the Relocation project and the findjackwalten site that he is very likely alive. Here I am mostly going on hunch, but I don't think martin would choose the "Man loses family, ends up depressed and then a vengeful insane spirit" route. I did say above that I believe felix to more more likely to fit that role of "person going mad from mental stress", but I actually believe that he'd be more likely to snap, considering his mental stability after the crash. Also I don't see how jack could accidentally get into bon.

I honestly think both were red herrings from the very start of the series. In fact, walten files 4 pretty much added the possibility that they have nothing to do with the murders (excluding ed and molly*), aside from felix being heavily hinted to have tried covering up the bon incidents instead of reporting them like a normal, law abiding, responsible citizen.

Cyberfun Tech episode pretty much revealed to us that the "bon is just a malfunctioning animatronic" theory is not true, as bon clearly has something controlling it. So I can only see the above theories being correct.

This places the c) theory as most believable. The issue is who is the third party. People have speculated it is the original ceo of cyberfun tech or a demon. I'd personally lean towards the ceo, a demon would be too random for a story that focuses so much on personal strife. And since I am part of the "jack is alive" theorizers, I also don't believe the "manifestation of jack's anger" theory. Something that keeps bugging me also is why did the person who honked at felix during the car crash didn't report anything, it's weird, as if someone saw the perfect opportunity to use felix as a scapegoat for the murders. Maybe bon has an accomplice?

I'm stepping into tinfoil shadow government territory here though lmao

*I know I am being nitpicky here, call me a law nerd all you know, but I especially get frustrated when people throw around heavy words without knowing their terminology, as that can have pretty bad consequences when applicable to real people. Another small fun fact just for extra trivia knowledge: Age of consent doesn't always mean legal, if you're a minor, please protect yourself. Back on topic, no, what felix did was not murder. It's a shitty, also fairly common douchy behavior in my country called "causing death through driving under the influence of alcohol". Here's the difference:

(The first picture says California, but the same exact thing applies to law articles from multiple countries)

This post probably ended up on a passive aggressive tone, I apologize ToT

#the walten files #rant post

[antimony-medusa]

As we all engage with the Egg arc on QSMP, I know we're all having a fun time talking about how emotionally devastating it all is, but I have seen some concerning takes about this, so I want to also reiterate that it is fiction. It's not real.

You can have real emotions about fiction (talk to any D&D player whos run a long campaign about this), but it is essentially fake, it is something you can box up and put away. And if you think you can't tell the difference between a fictional roleplay and real life child death, you need to step away.

Cause like, I have been seeing people comparing egg deaths to real life tragedies, and like. Guys. That's just offensively disrespectful. I do not want Chayanne to die. I'm team "storm heaven and get all the eggs back". I want the happy dragon ending. I have also had real life children die in my life and equating a pixel egg despawning to that makes me actually mad. We can have fun with it but this is fiction and you need to be clear to yourself that it is fiction. The QSMP admins are not "responsible to give you a happy ending" because it is essentially not real, they are ethically responsible for how they treat people in the real world (the players and the admins) not for what happens in the story they are telling.

There are two aspects of this that are important. The first is the most basic. Fiction is not real. It's lies we tell ourselves recreationally. No real people were harmed. No one actually died. The egg's admins are fine and now playing league of legends on stream. You can have real emotions about fiction, but you can also take comfort in the fact that the bad thing didn't actually happen. This allows you to engage with topics that you would never want to happen in real life (horror media, for example), in an entertaining way. Fiction is a safe spot to explore really concerning topics, whether that's something you're afraid of, something that has happened to you, or something that you'd never want to see happen in real life but it scratches that brain itch. And that isn't intended to say that you have to be comfortable with every topic in fiction. Suicide themes even in fiction are too close to real life for me, so I stay away from them. You get to set your own comfort levels with what fiction you're comfortable with. And that leads into my second point. The essense of fiction is that you are opting into it. Except in vanishingly rare cases, if you are engaging with something fictional, you are giving ongoing consent to engaging with the story by continuing to watch/read/listen to it. At any point you can tap out and step away, back into real life. You have the power to control your experience and say "yes I am watching this" or "no I do not want to engage with this actually". You can take the headphones off. You are an active player in how you deal with the fictional story, and if it gets too much for you, you get to step away. You get to write fanfiction and it is just as real as the original. If someone is dying in real life, no amount of blocked terms and telling your friends not to discuss it is going to keep it from happening. It is inescapable. It happens to you, it is enacted on you, you are a passive figure and you have no control. The only thing you have a control over is how you react to it, and this is why a huge element of grief is the powerlessness.

You have power over fiction. You can opt out of it. And if you can't tell the difference between a fake story and real events, a) you need to do work on that, because there is a lot of really upsetting content in fiction that is going to fuck you up, b) you need to step away from the fake story that is doing harm to you, and use that power that fiction gives you to opt out of it. Block terms. Unfollow people. Go do something in real life. Fiction is not real.

#discourse #cw suicide mention #cw child death mention #qsmp #fandom meta

[franki-lew-yo]

An 'A-ha!' fandom moment, ft. The Owl House

These comments I screencapped from a user I watch elsewhere really hit like a brick in the face to me. I'm blotting out OP's name, mostly cuz this was just a shower thought they had rather than any meaningful open discussion with people, but it ended up making me realize something (also NO they're not some contrarian AntiSJW type or even hate TOH; they're a very gay+trans writer themselves. Sorry if youknowwhoyouare sees this and recognizes ur posts but you don't allow reblogs or comments and I wanted to present it on my own):

The Owl House was always hampered by being killed halfway through, writing wise and that will always be it's greatest 'sin'. However, OP's comment made me realize how much the show kind of tells you it's characters are flawed rather than actually give them arcs to suggest it, especially in season 1. When I say flawed I don't mean lacking quirks that are relatable but human: Eda is a recluse criminal; King thought he could kill people and acted like it; Luz is a genki girl; Amity starts off as a bully; Hunter...is unfortunately Hunter, ect. Those ARE flaws, character wise, but in the presence of the complete story (as complete as the show will ever be) they really aren't actually flawed, bad people in anyway.

Before I go further, two things: 1, IN ALL FAIRNESS, this is why myself and others particularly LOVE the characters and why TOH was a comfort show for me rather than a 'high-tension narrative'. The characters are a lot of what you want and hope to be like and I think that's really sweet and enjoyable, especially for horror and especially for kids.

2, NO! I DON'T think any particular bad faith cartoon reviewer opinions about coddling certain characters and punishing others IS WHAT DANA and co did at all here! Steven Universe and certain crap-reviewer's takes ON Steven Universe and how it's characters were flawed but overly forgiven by the fandom the show itself are NOT the b-all end-all of this discussion, nor are they the reason The Owl House is the way it is!

The context op was talking about was how in the upcoming hate crime The Last Airbender live-action show the showrunners are going to tone down Sokka's sexism because they think it's 'unlikable'. Even though, we all knew as children that this was an arc for him and it was WRONG, so axing it because we the audience lack nuance to recognize characters we love doing problamtic-sisms is BEYOND annoying.

Op's point is how The Owl House in particular doesn't actually expect much or want much out of it's characters. Or audience. For any infighting early on about how much Amity should 'die' because of reasons, that's really just fandom infighting when you get right down to it. There's nothing on par with the disagreement people have over, say, the Diamonds from Steven Universe and how Steven 'totally forgave them or 'should have murdered them in cold blood' about The Owl House. And like...from a fandom point of view that's good, but otherwise the show is pretty concrete the way you're supposed to see certain characters vs other shows which allow you to make up your own mind.

Avatar, Star vs the Forces of Evil (pre finale), Centaurworld and Amphibia all showcase your protagonists being genuinely, intensely flawed. Sure, maybe some neckbreather crap-pseudocritic complains that they 'made the unlikable' or whatever (i.e. me with Friendship is Magic) but overall the actual point is HOW the characters actually have grown and have ended up with the ending and morality they need. The villains, no not Zukos or 'redeemed' villains who joined the protagonist squad, VILLAIN-villains, will always be at least one serious step behind the protagonists and that's what give the protagonists the cautionary wherewithal to end them like they should and not 'be like them'. It's such a fufilling narrative, there's a reason people like it so much because it's really good when it's delivered well.

Removed from my fandom gaze; the Owl House feels like it's saying it has that ultimate messaging and character arc when it actually doesn't. Your protagonists have the endearing aspirational-part totally covered, but as far as the actual 'edge' and nuance? Well...

Eda is, at most, naughty. She really isn't any kind of morally sidetracked character. She's an outlaw because literally her society is awful to her and she's in the right to be against it. She's cursed but she's not addicted to her potions or hiding it or not really taking care of herself or her loved ones because of it. Her actual biggest flaw is that she's been 'running away' from problems rather than dealing with them, but I'd be lying if that wasn't suggested more than it's actually portrayed; or at least, dealt with fast enough in "Eda's Requiem". A bigger issue I see, even if it's what's also endearing about her, is that she REALLY isn't a flawed caregiver at all. It's portrayed as her most redeeming feature that she's otherwise a good mom and mentor, but Eda having virtually no problems in raising Luz and King just, again, makes her feel ONLY aspirational. All of the angst about 'failing' to parent and making up for it is moved all onto Camilla and sadly all of that angst for her is mostly within an already bloated episode. Eda, while an absolute mood, lacks any real kind of edge. Does she need it or not? I don't know. Discuss, kids.

Luz, like OP says, is treated like this high-energy super-optimist. She's like Star Butterfly in that her fangirlism and impulsivness are supposed to get her in trouble. But, she absolutely just isn't one when you break it down. Besides episode 2, Luz really is never that inconsiderate or lost in her fantasies ever again throughout the show. She never has anything like what Steven goes through where he hops into Larz' body and makes things worse for people by trying to fix things- which is not only good filler but it calls forward to the ultimate ending of Steven's arc for the series - Luz is just sort of adorable. Luz has blindsided by hype moments of weakness, like when she accidentally hurts Owlbert or messes with Amity's secret room, but still always level headed and down-to-earth. Her impulses are always kind of treated like...excusable? Because, again, they usually are. This is a large part about what makes her self-hatred at the end of the show about accidentally helping Belos' feel 'forced'. Even MOREso than what Hunter and Daddy Titan explain about Belos using her, we the audience never see Luz's choice to go back in time and try and get answers from Philip as being anything other than just, you know, logical. Because it is. The show acts like what Luz did was reckless and bad and that she was SOOO overtaken by her fangirlism about Philip and now just how much she has to live with the guilt and regret of helping being duped by him...it just doesn't come off that way at all. She was only so much excited about meeting him and her interest was getting home to her mother. In terms of comparing her to Philip, that's all fine and good, but again it's not 'flawed'. Not really, anyway.

Lilith absolutely has it the worst...but I kinda think people know that. She arguably does have the most morally-gray turning point in the show given what she did to her own sister. But neither the characters nor her nor the show really hold her accountable in any lasting way for cursing Eda. Lilith is the closest we get to that 'Diamond'-dilemma. She does 'make things right way too quickly and it's obvious to even her biggest fans that her character is really rushed in this area. They lampshade what Lilith did and that she was their villain in season 2 and 2B, but lampshading isn't the same thing as progress. As a result, as a Lilith fan you kind of never really forgive her for what she did. None of that's her fault, cause' you know...she doesn't exist, but it makes it frustrating that you the fan watching the show is doing the heavy-lifting in your mind in this area.What you come away from is this feeling of loving the characters for being able to work everything out. They're engaging and nuanced in theory, but you also feel robbed, w or w/o the Disney interference, of them being fully rounded or WHOLE. It kinda feels like 'and suddenly, he wasn't racist, anymore' all the time with every character ever with except Amity's mom, the Titan Trappers and Belos.

The reason everyone dunks on Star vs the Forces of Evil's finale, (besides being salty over ship wars and declaring THAT'S the reason for the drop in quality) is that 'Cleaved' could have not only worked but REALLY worked. It just needed to be better written and processed as an ending. Instead people reviled Star, the protagonist we're supposed to be rooting for, for what feels like impulsive apathy and cruelty towards everyone else by destroying magic, as opposed to it being an actually selfless sacrifice that makes her different than Toffee. Ultimatley, I do prefer The Owl House, unfinished as it is, to any of that. But yeah... I can now never unsee the characters as being what they are: fun but indulgent when they're supposedly complex. Indulgent is never bad u guys, but the problem is when you only have that to go on while insisting you have fully developed characters, there's a lot of the show telling you how to feel and how to come away from it rather than letting you, the audience, make of that yourself. As annoying as fan-wars can be over this stuff and when people are either WAAAY to forgiving of their villain blorbo or form hate-campaigns over Glub Shitto for ruining their life, it is ultimately a good thing that shows give you that chance to really see the characters that way at all.

The Owl House is, as OP calls it, "tumblr feels" not for being gay and magical and fun and wholesome and indulgent like that stuff is GREAT. It feels 'tumblr oriented' in that it all kind of feels too easy even when it's not for your protagonists. It's never actually "challenging". I guess, in as far as 'good' indulgence is concerned, it's as warm and fuzzy and a happy AU fanfic you found but not so much the Pacifist Ending of Undertale where you really do feel bad if you rectify the good ending in anyway. It's fun and it's comfort food, but not entirely lasting as you want it to be???

Amphibia, I think, was also way better than Owl House in this respect. It wasn't perfect cause nothing is but you really got a feeling for HOW flawed Marcy, Sasha, the townsfolk and even Hop Pop throughout their arcs-- which made it so SO rewarding to see them get their happy endings and come together to defeat the core and be the better people they needed to become.

The Owl House is my favorite where I think Amphibia is the better of the two.

#ramble #the owl house #toh critical #good lord did any of this make any sense Idk #franki's features #I guess technically King had the most fufilled arc #considering he thought he was a dictator-realized he wasn't-and then w he found out his true past was horrified by it but coped #discuss

[what-do-bunyips-look-like]

This crab day thing has gotten so frustrating so fast. The person who suggested it is an anti-abortion anti-feminist right wing christian transphobe. Many of the people spreading additional posts and info are ALSO anti-abortion right wing christian transphobes. Seriously. Start clicking their blogs when you see these posts. Search "abortion" and "feminism" and "trans" and "gender" and "groomer." This is really easy to confirm. But people don't give a shit because "crabs fun." okay.

And its not like people aren't aware of it at this point. Search "crab day" on tumblr and a good chunk of the results are asks saying "hey btw crab day was started by a transphobe/right wing christian." and most of those people have responded with something along the lines of "Um okay but like its a good idea though??? You guys can't even collaborate with conservatives for like a second to achieve a political goal? UGH this is why nothing ever gets done 🙄." or "Um okay but like that post had nothing to do with their political beliefs. so like its fine lol. Crab fun." Or "oh no omg im so sorry thats so gross i deleted the post but im still gonna keep reblogging all the other posts by the conservative transphobic anti abortion right wing christians whos blogs i wont check because we need to save tumblr!!!!"

Let me make this really fucking clear for those who don't get it: it doesn't matter if the post is not about their political beliefs. You and all your mutuals are reblogging them. You are making it easier for them to network and find each other. You are bringing them new followers, a bigger audience, a bigger platform and a bigger pool of people who will spread their oh so relatable non-political posts. Which will bring in more followers. And some of those new followers are going to be young dumbasses who are going to see all their posts about "groomers" and "mutilation" and the evils of porn and the horrors of abortion and how feminism actually harms women and do i need to tell you how that story ends?

You are showing that "crab fun" is way more important to you than the safety of trans tumblr users. You are giving them a bigger platform and a wider net with which to potentially harm trans people. By saying that you're not going to let their political beliefs ruin your fun, you're making it very clear that trans people are less important than your fun. And you're making it VERY fucking clear that you'd RATHER tumblr become a safe and welcoming place for anti-feminist anti-abortion right wing transphobes than give up fun crab.

You are showing that your need to throw money at a corporation is more important to you than trans tumblr users. I get where you are coming from. I do. You want tumblr to keep existing. I want tumblr to keep existing. I also want the other trans people who use this fucking platform to keep existing because frankly, they are the only reason i'm here. and if they aren't safe here and if you will throw us away just to keep tumblr shambling along a little longer then I have no fucking interest in tumblr.

"Okay but we need to save tumblr uwu!!!!" Look I'm just some dumbass and I don't know shit (and to be PERFECTLY honest, so are you), but I think this is a little more complicated than "if we raise enough money we can save the school/family farm/community centre/(insert cozy heartwarming thing that needs to be saved)!" As other smarter people have said, tumblr is operating at a yearly $30 million deficit. Thats $30 million just to break even. For one year. not become profitable. Its not a bail them out once and its all good forever situation. Tumblr is not a small message board run by volunteers who actually use donations to stay afloat. They are not a non-profit. They are not running a pledge drive. Throwing money at a corporation does not a nonprofit make. It makes you a consumer.

Your response to "tumblr making bad changes" is "give them money for making the bad changes to show that we don't like bad changes!! A reverse boycott'll show 'em!!" You sure about that??? (And some of you are calling this """""unionizing?"""" Put that word back on the shelf.) You don't know what you're doing and you're not listening to the smarter people who have tried to explain it to you. And once again, you're showing that this half baked scheme is more important to you than trans tumblr users. because crab fun.

And @everyone whos clambering over each other to "collaborate with conservatives for a good cause," we already fucking know that you love to do this shit. You are the same people who will say "yeah but theres bad people on both sides!!!" and who wont give up your Harry Potter or your Chick-Fil-A. You will throw us under the bus the SECOND it gets you something you want. Even something as stupid and small as pickle brine or a shitty videogame or fucking "crab day." And guess what. The second all your "shared goals" are accomplished and the conservatives get what they want FROM YOU??? You're going straight under that bus too.

And also, isn't it maybe a little hmmmm. SUSPICIOUS that CONSERVATIVE CHRISTIANS want to throw money at the site that we've been bitching and screaming at for how unfairly it censors any display of queer sexuality????? They don't have the same problems with tumblr that you do. You think that collaborating with THEM is gonna stop that? Gonna get the porn ban reversed? Gonna turn tumblr into a co-op? Gonna "unionize this bitch?" Hello????

If you must. MUST participate in this because crab oh so fun and tumblr is oh so in need of saving then for the LOVE of FUCK make your OWN POST and STOP PLATFORMING THESE PEOPLE. i don't want to hear "Oh but its a good idea it doesn't matter if a bad person came up with it separate art from the artist lol" if you're not MAKING AN ACTUAL EFFORT TO EXCLUDE THEM FROM THIS. BLOCK THEM. CHECK THEIR BLOGS. BLACKLIST THEIR URLS. ITS EASY.

and then maybe go give your $3 to an actual non-profit. or to an actual leftist independent organization. Or wikipedia. Or inaturalist. Or to one of the many hyperspecific message boards out there who are struggling along on donations from like 5 people. Or maybe, maybe, give your fucking $3 to an abortion fund or to a trans person's go fund me so they can buy food. Or to a womens shelter or a fucking homeless person or to any of the other people who anti-abotion anti-feminist right wing christian transphobes want to stop existing.

My partner is afraid to leave the house alone because people with these exact same political beliefs are in power. People are getting their HRT ripped away from them because people with these exact same political beliefs are in power. People are being forced to give birth because people with these exact same political beliefs are in power. Every day I'm ready to get the news that the state my partner is in is no longer safe and we have to figure out an escape plan. These people do REAL HARM in the REAL WORLD and their beliefs are, tbh, way more fucking insidious and mainstream and tolerated than those of TERFs.

But fun crabs are more important. okay.

#I have almost no followers here like 3 people will see this but i can't not say anything #prob gonna lose a few beloved mutuals over this screed tbh well so it goes #I'm sorry this is so aggressive i realize that some people still dont know but im VERY frustrated by the response here #I'm pinning this post and everyone who clicks on my blog to look at a cute bug has to see it #being trans on tumblr is infuriating #being trans in THE WORLD is infuriating #crab day #the crabbening #july 29 #crab week #save tumblr #anti crab day #etc etc etc #DO YOU REALIZE HOW FUCKING DISAPPOINTING IT IS TO SEE ALL THESE TAGS AND SEE HOW BIG THIS THIS HAS GOTTEN AND STILL NOONE GIVES A SHIT

[vivantesopales]

so i made a tomarry rec list to convert my mutuals🍷

or: 10 fics i adore and the potion ingredients they taste of

What He Grows To Be | M, 260k | @k-s-morgan

A story of trust, remorse and the darker aspects of love. It is premised on one of the most beloved tomarry tropes – 'Harry time travels back to raise Tom' – and so Tom is given the chance to unlearn his frankly disastrous sense of entitlement and ultimately, to be reshaped by empathy and forgiveness. WHGTB is the perfect fic to get into tomarry if you're not quite sure what to expect from this ship, still wondering what their dynamic might look like, etc.

love is touching souls (surely you touched mine) | M, 34k | @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger

An accident takes Harry back to the winter of 1945, where he immediately captures the interest of a fresh-out-of-Hogwarts, not-yet-beyond-saving Tom. Their dynamic is deliciously intense from the start, with Harry being his usual sassy, dorky self that leaves Tom equally infuriated and intrigued. And Tom's arc, likewise, is beautifully crafted. Conversations about redemption, about remorse, are layered, thoughtful. Expect hurt/comfort, domestic softness, a devastating cliffhanger and an ending that will gently put you back together like a forehead kiss.

As Is The Father, So Is The Son | E, 4.5k | @this-is-your-heichou-speaking

An a/b/o royalty AU in which Tom (the Prince) is practically obsessed with Harry, who happens to be an omega boy from his father’s harem. This is undoubtedly one of the hottest smuts I’ve ever read, featuring lush prose, unapologetic, dub-con/non-con elements and an interesting take on “dark slutty Harry”. tl;dr: mind the tags; stay hydrated 💦🍆

breaking in through open doors | T, 1.4k | Brooding_Aunt

A unique, haunting read that is perfect for spooky seasons. Horror masterpiece. Goosebumps guaranteed. I won’t spoiler much but I urge you to give emo girl Harry a go (it makes a terrifying lot of sense in the context of the storytelling, I swear), and let her narrative haunt you.

Thirst | E, 27k | @obsidianpen

(Sexy) mind games with Horcrux!Tom …. Will he be motivated enough to let Harry out of the Lestrange Vault before Voldemort arrives? Another dark, chilling fic in which both Harry and Tom have their own weaknesses that the other seeks to explore, and hopefully to take advantage of, as they grapple for survival.

Memento Mori | E, 49k | @purplewitch156

Every time Harry dies, instead of boarding the train that will take him to the Afterlife, to his family, he chooses to return to the living world with Tom, who is unable go on. Four Lives, two idiots, one love story. There’s humour, there’s action, heartwarming moments and heartbreaking ones … basically, be prepared for all the feels that will take forever to recover from.

Wake From a Dream | T, 2.6k | @duplicitywrites

Cats and domestic tomarry (I am so ridiculously weak for this). Duplicity’s writing is gorgeous in that, within a smallish word count, we are given a glimpse of something profound, something vulnerable, subtly tucked into the lovely little interactions and the intimacy Harry and Tom share.

Hmm | G, 6.4k | Wolven_Spirits

‘Harry is a hummingbird animagus. Tom opens a flower shop just to attract his attention.’ That’s the fic summary – need I say more🥺?? There’s something so gentle and evocative (but also undeniably Slytherin) about Tom’s decision to devote himself to his flowers, to creating a safe space for Harry. Florist!Tom supremacy, is what I’m saying.

Man Down | T, 5k | @classlesstulip

It’s tagged as Mafia AU, but in all honesty this fic is, I must say, ‘Ghibli in gangster’s suit’ (affectionate). It’s hilarious (I genuinely laughed out loud quite a few times throughout the story), super adorable, and everything that makes a lovely pick-me-up fic.

What Happens In Vegas | E, 14k | @dividawrites

Sexy, decadent and intrinsically tomarry, this fic became an instant fave a few paragraphs in. Tom is super chaotic and his characterisation is perhaps one of the best I’ve ever read. Featuring a delicious age difference, thirsty brat Harry, DADA Professor Riddle (yes please) and size kink hello🥵 – all that executed through Divida’s sharp, witty writer’s voice! Really, Vegas is the ultimate dream.

#tomarry #tom riddle #harry potter #tomarry fanfiction #tom/harry #tomarry recs #hp fic rec #tomarry fic #tomarry au #opal's library

[anarcoqueer1994]

TW: transphobia:(

But it has a fluffy Steddie ending.

After Spring break, after Vecna was defeated, after Max and Eddie lived, after everything had finally settled down, she finally felt comfortable to come out. Stevie, despite being terrified that it could change everything, told her friends she was a girl, and to her delight, every single one of them was loving and supportive. And they supported her as she started to present more femininely in public, starting off with a little make up, but eventually working her way up to dressing more how she felt, even daring to wear pretty little dresses, and growing her hair out. And of course people were mean to her. It was 1980s small town Indiana, after all.

But she had her friends, people who loved her. She and Robin got a place together after her parents kicked her out, disowned her. Anyone of her friends, including the teens still in high school, were ready to pounce on anyone who had anything shitty to say. There was a particularly brutal time when Erica told off some mom who dared to insinuate that Stevie, because of who she was, was dangerous, perverted.

And Stevie's own mean girl streak came back in full force, when needed. She wasn't above bitching out some asshole who deserved it.

During this time, other things changed too. Eddie, who she had saved, carried out of the Upside-Down, stayed by his hospital bed for weeks, became one of her closest friends. They spent so much time together, Stevie loving how comfortable Eddie made her feel. Little does she know, Eddie, had fallen head over heels for her.

Unfortunately for him, Stevie was with someone else; Tommy. After she had come out, she had run into him. She had been wearing light, pretty makeup, and a soft pink skirt that Nancy had given her. She had been ready for a fight, ready for Tommy to insult her, berate her, but he didn't. Instead, he apologized for everything. He apologized for high school, for not being a better friend, and asked if they could maybe try again.

And Stevie knew what it felt like to want to change, to want another chance, so maybe against her better judgment, she gave him a chance. And for a while, things seemed better. After a few months, Tommy even confessed his feeling for her, told her she was beautiful, asked her out, and she said yes. They went to a basketball game that night, and had the time of their life.

But it's been a year, and their relationship isn't perfect. It's hard and they have to work at it but Stevie was always willing to give Tommy another chance. To her friends though, they watched on as Tommy repeatively would slip into his old ways, and how he wasn't always the nicest to her. But she kept taking him back, and they didn't know why. Unbeknownst to them, though, she was desperate for someone to love her romantically and with how mean people could be to a transwoman, she convinced herself, this was her only chance.

That all changed one night. Eddie was at home, alone in the trailer, as Wayne was at work. It was raining hard, and thunder continuously shook the trailer. He had been watching some b-rated horror film, when a pound at the door nearly caused him to jump out of his skin. He wasn't expecting anyone.

He cautiously heads to the door and opens it, only to find Stevie standing in the rain, makeup running, and looking like she was about to break. Without thinking, he throws his arms around her, pulling her in close. She instinctively buries her head in the crook of his neck. He feels silent tears against his skin.

He pet her hair softly, wanting to know what has made his usually strong friend crumble. He had seen Stevie tear monsters in half, heard stories about how she endured the torment of the Russians, hell, she deals with terrible, mean people every day. And yet, here she is looking so hurt in his arms.

After a minute, Eddie pulls away slightly. "Hey, let's get you inside, princess. You're going to get sick." Eddie says gently, the pet name came out without a second thought.

This seems to snap Stevie out of it, pulling away. "Oh my God, Eds. I am so sorry, I don't know why I came here." Guilt starts to creep in over burdening Eddie with her problems. "I...um, I'm just going to go home." She starts to back down the steps. But she doesn't get far before Eddie has gently grabbed her wrist.

"No, Stevie. Come in, please?" Eddie gently implores, knowing how she keeps things bottled up, how she is always there for his problems, everyone's problems.

She wants to say no, but she is helpless against Eddie’s requests. She ignores the feeling in the back of her head that secretly wants more from Eddie, focuses on how good of a friend he is instead. She timidly nods her head, following Eddie in.

She stands shivering in the doorway, not wanting to sit down and get the furniture wet. She is drenched from standing in the rain. Eddie wonders how long she has been standing there before working up the courage to knock.

She doesn't say anything as Eddie walks to his bedroom, bringing back dry clothes a moment later. Luckily, he has the soft, pretty yellow cardigan she left here last time they smoked together. It is distinctly feminine, knowing that sometimes, when Stevie wears more traditionally masculine items, she gets in her own head and experiences a disconnect. Robin explained it as dysphoria once. The pretty sweater softens the plain oversized Metallica T-shirt and sweat pants he hands her. She shyly takes the clothing to the bathroom, where she changes, coming out minutes later.

When she does, Eddie is waiting on the couch. "Thanks." She says uncharacteristically soft, as she takes a seat next to Eddie on the couch.

"No problem." He tries to stay calm, trying not to get mad at whatever caused his favorite girl...his favorite person, to get so upset.

He twists his body, so they are both looking at each other. "So, are you going to tell me what happened?"

Stevie looks away, embarrassment covering her face. "It's dumb."

"Stevie, I bet it's not. Whatever made you look like that couldn't be dumb." Eddie reassures.

"It's...um Tommy." She starts, and immediately Eddie sees red. He has watched as Tommy continuously let her down. But he has never seen it be this bad. He tries to not lose it.

"What did that piece of shit do?" He spits despite his best efforts.

"Eds..." She says gently.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I just don't like how he treats you."

"I, um, agree, actually. I don't like how he treats me either. I think it's really over this time." She says, voice trying to sound confident but wavering anyway.

Eddie is not sure if he believes that. Tommy has hurt her before, and she has taken him back. But he does not let his doubt show on his face. "What happened?"

~~

She thought it was going to be a good day. Tommy had taken them to a Hoosier's game, one of Stevie's favorite teams. It was supposed to be fun. But when they got there, Tommy kept his distance. He barely talked to her, touched her, really did anything to indicate he knew her, let alone that they were dating. It made her feel terrible the entire game.

This was compounded by the fact that quite a few people around them made comments about her. She wasn't cis passing, not having the money to do anything medical, and not really wanting to yet. And she was fine with that. She still had felt beautiful today when she had pulled her hair up in a pink scrunchie and donned a floral crop top and jean shorts that Robin and Eddie had bought for her. She had pretty soft eyeshadow and a pink lip gloss, and was wearing the pair of purple earings Nancy gave her. But people around them, weren't so nice, made jokes and hateful remarks, calling her a tranny or faggot. And she was sadly used to this, knew how to bite back with bitchy words, but it hurt that Tommy didn't say anything, just pretended he did not know her. To top it off, a pretty blonde girl sitting nearby was flirting with him the entire game, and he didn't stop it, actually flirted back as Stevie watched.

After the game, in the car ride home, Stevie sat quietly stewing in her own anger and hurt until Tommy put his hand on her thigh and she pushed him away.

"Hey baby, what's wrong?" He asks dumbly.

"Are you kidding me?" She snaps.

"What?" He feigns ignorance.

"You literally pretended like I did not exist the entire game! All those assholes were insulting me and you pretended you didn't know me! You were too busy flirting with that other girl! You wouldn’t even hold my hand and but you were all over her.

"Oh, come on, baby." He pleads as he drives. "You know what kind of attention you draw to yourself. Why don't you just wear your old clothes when we go out? People would just think we are just two guys hanging out."

The words cut deep, but Stevie tries not to show it, keeps up her best bitch face. "But we aren't two guys...I'm your girlfriend. And you said you liked my outfits."

"I do like your little outfits, you know I think you look sexy. But maybe they should just be between us, for when we are alone and can have some fun. " He tries to say smoothly.

Stevie's heart drops, she can't hide the agony, the pain in her voice. "Wait...is that all I am to you? The way I dress and look is just some weird fetish? Just for you to get off on?"

"It's not like that!" Tommy says defensively. "It just in public, it's embarrassing when you wear girls' clothes because it's not like you're a real..." He stops short, realizing what just came out of his mouth.

Stevie closes her eyes, trying to will away the tears that she felt coming on but it is useless. "Not a real what, Tommy?" She chokes out.

"That's not what I meant!" Tommy puts his hand up as he comes to a stop light now back in Hawkins.

"Come on just say what we both know you're thinking! Not a real woman!" Stevie is shouting now through her tears. The weather outside getting worse, rain starting to fall.

"Stevie, I didn’t mean it..." He says pathetically.

Stevie looks down, shakes her head. In a defeated voice, she whispers. "Yes, you did." Without a second thought she gets out his car, running in the rain away from him. She kept running until she was Eddie’s doorstep. Tommy didn't bother to go after her.

~~

Stevie finds herself in tears again as she finishes recounting what happened. Eddie is practically shaking, angry over what Tommy did to this beautiful, wonderful human being overtaking him.

"I'm going to fucking kill him!" Eddie spits.

Suddenly, Stevie grabs his hand, holding it in her lap. "No, Eds. He isn't worth it, okay?"

He meets her eyes, his face softening when he sees all the pain dancing in her brown eyes, replacing the sparkle that usually takes refuge there. "Oh Stevie..." He says her name so reverently, like a prayer almost. He places his free hand on her cheek, she leaning into it. "You know what he said, isn't true, right?"

"I...I know." She lets out a sad sigh. "I just thought he was one of the people who actually saw me for who I really am, I thought he accepted me. For fuck sakes, we've been friends since we were 12. But I'm an idiot who was so desperate for someone to love me that I let him use me. And I am so fucking stupid to think someone would actually want to be with someone like me..."

Eddie’s feels a pang in his heart, hating to see how small Tommy made Stevie feel. He would never make her feel less than, make her feel small. "I don’t think you're stupid. Please don't say that..." He whispers, hand still resting against her face.

"Eddie..." That voice in the back of her head that always has wanted more, the voice she tries to ignore because she wasn't single and Eddie couldn't possibly feel the same way, is trying to push through.

"Stevie, can I ask you something?" His voice is gentle.

"Yea, anything."

"Why did you come here? Why didn’t you go home, crawl in Robin's bed and cry together?" Eddie feels invasive asking but the words already left his mouth.

Stevie pulls away, looking anywhere but at Eddie, a blush showing through her tear stained face. "I...I don't know. I didn't choose to, like...consciously. I just started running and my body brought me here...I'm sorry..." she is obviously embarrassed.

"Hey, hey, hey. Look at me, kitten." The name elicits a deeper shade of pink on her face. She nervously looks up, meeting Eddie’s eyes once again. He scoots closer, taking both of her hands in his, being gentler than he ever is. His loud over the top attitude replaced with a softness reserved only for Stevie. "I'm glad you came. How else would I have been able to tell you that if...if you would let me, I would never make you cry like this. You're much too pretty to have such ugly words thrown at you. Tommy doesn't know how much of an idiot he is because you're great, Stevie. I love everything about you, even when you make me watch some sports thing on TV. " He cracks a smile. Eddie knows he is taking a big risk, practically laying his heart out on the table for all to see. But how can he not when the prettiest girl in the world is sitting here in front of him, terrified that no one will love her.

A beat passes. Then two, before Stevie is smiling big, eyes still blood shot, but happiness shining through. "You really mean that, Eds?"

Eddie lets go of a breath he did not know he was holding. He lets out a little breathy laugh, smiling from ear to ear. "Cross my heart, princess. Can I tell you a secret?"

"Yea, anything." She scoots closer, legs folded up underneath her practically touching Eddie's.

"I hated Tommy."

"Obviously. " Stevie cuts him off. "You literally named the villain of your last campaign "Thomas the Horrible." She giggles.

"Yea, I guess I wasn't so secretive about that." He pulls his hair across his blushing face. "But most of me hated him because of how he treated you, but another part of me, a big part of me, was jealous that he got the girl of my dreams."

Stevie is blushing even more before playfully hitting Eddie’s shoulder. "You're such a sap!"

"Yea, I am." Eddie readily admits.

"But it's okay... I like it. I like you, Eds. I've liked you since I saw you in the halls my freshmen year. And over the past year and half, since Vecna, since I thought I lost you for good, I realized that I love you. I just never thought you could see me like that."

"Like what?" Eddie whispers as he leans in, forehead resting against Stevie's.

"Like your girlfriend." Stevie admits.

"I would be the luckiest guy in the world to have you as my girlfriend, kitten." He puts his hands on either side of Stevie's face before pressing a his lips against hers. Stevie's lips are soft and warm, and feel great against his admittedly chapped lips. She tastes like strawberries.

"Love you too, Stevie." He says as they pull apart.

And it's like second nature as Stevie settles against him, cuddling together watching TV. It's like they were always meant to fit together. And for the first time in a long time, Stevie was content.

Thanks for reading! Feeling very gender dysphoric and need some fluff to feel better. Also I totally picture Stevie going to Eddie’s shows in a black leather mini skirt, and fishnets and a cropped Corroded Coffin shirt , just to get Eddie riled up while he was on stage.

#stranger things #steddie #steve and eddie #stevie harrington #trans steve harrington #eddie munson #fan fiction #stranger things fanfiction

[journalsouppe]

Ever since I accidentally picked up and played DGS, I knew I needed to play PLVSPW. I decided to alternate playing ace attorney games with professor layton games until I finished the main trilogies for both and could finally play plvspw, and it was so worth the wait. I love this game so much it is everything I could have hoped and more, so so so much more. Highly recommend to honestly anyone!!!

All of the Professor Layton stickers are from jordydrawsmerch which can be found here and here. All of the Phoenix stickers are by Peachcott!! Every other sticker is from Daiso!

Writing typed below!

Rating: 9.7 Played: Fa 2023 Port: 3DS Favorite? Y Replayable? Y Recommend? Y

Comments

AA stickers by Peachcott, PL stickers by Jordydraws

THE MUSIC???

WITHCES??? TALOS???

HIS NAME IS NOT FUCKING CAR ACCIDENT

I like the UI esp with how the stylus interacts with the screen

Omg the yiga

Omg traveling is easier AND they give you coin and puzzle hints

OH IM JUST NOW IN CORT AFTER THAT INSANE SEQ

WHAT IS GOING ON

LOVE maya’s model

THE REUSED ASPECTS IN DGS OMG

THE CUNTY POSE AAAA

THE PIPE WHACK LMAO

WHITE PAYNE

Love the design of labyrinthia

Im curious if nick and maya will be bombarded with puzzles

I LOVE how the 3D and tech of the 3DS are used to make more dynamic puzzles

A LIVE EXECUTION?

Lmao B&W LSOH moment (Kira ate flowers which is smth that happened in the original non-musical little shop of horrors movie)

SOME GUY

WHAT DO YOU MEAN MAYA AND NICK HAVE BEEN HERE FOR 5 YEARS

Cinderellia lol

Omg the book roof

Labyrinthia at night music is sooo pretty

Kira is the killer… right?

I am so stressed about Luke and maya

Hershel to see the storyteller??

THE PRINCESS TUTU AND DROSSELMEYER VIBSE ARE OFF THE CHARTS

Luke is too small for the defense table T_T

THE STORYTELLERS DAUGHTER??

THE BELL TOWER??

Curse…

LUKE NOOO

WHAT IS GOING ON?? T-T

LMAO NOT ANOTHER PARROT WITNESS

BARNHAM NOO

Top of town so pretty

Major shrek 2 vibes

Is that a bust of cabanela

Layton said lets go somewhere more private LMFAO

I love the nick and Luke dynamic… but at what cost T_T

LAYTON’S ??? AND HIS THEME AHHH

HERSHEL NOOOO

Obsessed with rouge’s design and tattoo

THE WAY I SCREAMED WHEN I SAW HERSHEL AHHH

Love the assistant/mentor switch

MAYA EATING RAMEN AND HERSHEL DRINKING TEA IN THEIR PIXEL ART

^ Maya copies other idles! luke writes in his journal and nick reads his paper!

LOVE darklaws claws!

the vigilante witnesses....

is it really a layton game if there's no tower

GOD DAMN HERSHEL love his sword fighting

omg who is bezella

will layton act as the prosecutor??

the battle against the professor is so nerve wracking

just learned why its called pl VS pw

GO OFF KIRA

ESPELLA AND DARKLAW AS KIDS AWW T^T <333

ooo darklaw's laws have the eyes on them

the "magic" is so complicated

i feel like eve the cat is v important but overlooked

WHERE IS LUKE I MISS HIM T^T

love the belfry search

ooo this is like princess tutu x tunic

this took a sharp turn omg

THESE LADIES T~T

FORK LIFT CERTIFIED LUKE LMAO

BARNHAM!

love eve's black outfit

YURI LETS GO

PROF??

EDGEWORTH??

Summary

This game is everything I hoped it would be. yes it's a Professor Layton crossover, but it also has the charm of DGS x Princess tutu x tunic. The ending was very layton-esque, along with all the reveals. I truly had such an amazing time playing this game. I was initially introduced to this because I heard that DGS was inspired by it, so it was my mission to play both aa and pl's original trilogies before playing. And I am so glad I did bc the wait was so worth it. You can absolutely see the influence this game and professor layton had on Shu Takumi. There's so much passion and creativity between plvspw an dgs that makes playing them all the more enjoyable. I loved how all the main characters interacted with each other, I especially loved how hershel and phoenix swapped assistants. The new characters were also so fun. Espella, Barnham, Darklaw, the story-teller, they were all so unique and enjoyable to interact with. The animation was stellar. This 3D style really works for both PL and AA and im so glad both series took inspiration from it. The music and art was phenomenal, this game honestly should win awards if it hasn't already done so. I also love how any character pulled into an aa game will have their gay moments: phoenix x hershel and espella x eve especially. I can't wait to make art or even write for this game, I will definitely add scenes from this to my ballet au ^^! What a phenomenal game, what a fun premise with the most convoluted layton-esque ending. It was so perfectly I highly recommend!!

#journalsouppe #bullet journal #journal #video game journal #ace attorney #professor layton #plvspw #professor layton vs phoenix wright #plvspwaa #plvspw spoilers