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charliemwrites · 4 months

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Woof woof grrrrrr

Content: Dub-Con, Dirty Talk, Oral Sex (reader giving)

The bar is exactly as busy as you’re hoping for when you get there. Quiet and intimate, low lights, a hum of conversation but not overwhelmingly loud. The bar is mostly full but not crowded. As luck would have it, you instantly spot a couple empty stools towards the back.

You glide across the establishment, head held high and shoulders back. Pick a seat and smooth your skirt under you to perch. The bartender comes to you instantly; you pick something sweet and fruity (delighted that it’ll match your outfit.)

It takes up until they slide it across to you — a tab opened with your card — that the insecurity starts to set in. What if no one is interested? What if Soap doesn’t show up?

You sip at your drink and pull out your phone, reading your latest book. If nothing else… at least you’re getting out? God.

“This isn’t your usual scene.”

Oh. Oh this is worse than being ignored all night and going home alone. So much worse. Just barely manage not to curse aloud as you turn to your ex.

“Justin…” you start, realize you don’t know where to go from there. “Hi.”

“It’s been a minute, huh?”

You look him up and down. Designer everything, of course, brands printed all over him. No taste, though, none of it is cohesive. You wouldn’t be caught dead at his side ever again.

“How’s your arm?”

His expression flickers, hand unconsciously going to the spot where Johnny tried to tear it off.

“Fine. Thanks.” He gives you a long look. Unfriendly. “You know people have had dogs put down for less.”

You run your tongue over your teeth, fear and anger twisting up in your stomach like hot lava. How dare he threaten your boy like that?! Wish Johnny was here now to take another chunk out of him.

“Not when people trespass on private property,” you reply coldly, eyes narrowing.

He puts his hands up, laughing awkwardly. “Well, now. I wouldn’t call it — let’s just say we’re even, yeah?”

“For that at least.”

You take another big sip of your drink. Find it empty. Make hopeful eye contact with the bartender and nod for another when they gesture questioningly. There’s a reason you love this bar.

“Right… listen, about that, luv…”

“There you are, bonnie!”

You perk up despite yourself. Says something that the creep who sexually harasses you in public is better company than your ex-fiancé. Something zings through you when you realize Soap is bigger than your Justin (hopefully in every aspect). Taller, wider, more muscular. Better jawline and prettier eyes, too.

“Tucked up back here like this,” Soap mock scolds, shouldering past Justin. You let out a little squeak as he scoops you off your barstool, hand just under your ass for a hold. “Almost didn’t see you, hen.”

“H-Hi,” you say, arms going around his neck automatically. He presses his nose to your collarbone and audibly inhales. You shiver.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he continues, voice dropping lower.

He sets you down on your stool again with a wink, then takes the stool next to yours.

“Oi, do you mind?” Justin snaps, bumped out of the way by Soap’s bulk.

“I do, actually.” The look Soap levels him is sharp, cold. Bloody killer. Instantly reminds you of all the alarm bells that normally play in your head when he’s around. “Don’t like puffed up knobs like you around my girl.”

You bite your tongue on a protest that you’re not his girl. Wouldn’t be particularly helpful right about now. You’ll correct him later.

“Your girl,” Justin scoffs. “She was mine before she was ever — hey!”

Soap’s got his fist in the front of Justin’s shirt, jerking him nearly off his feet. A few heads turn. You feel hot with embarrassment, skin prickling at so many eyes on your little trio of stupidity.

“Woah!” You yelp. “Soap!”

You grab his forearm (remind yourself not to get distracted by the muscles cording it) and lean into his line of sight. The near-murderous glint in his blue eyes softens, though there’s still an unnatural sheen to them. Something that makes the hair on the back of your head stand on end.

“Soap, let him go,” you say, quiet. “I like this bar, don’t get us kicked out… please?”

He hums, instantly drops Justin to cup his hand around the back of your neck, fingers edging into your hair. His palm feels so big and harm, a little rough with callouses. You try not to think about how easy it would be for him to manipulate your head however he wants…

“Like when you say ‘please,’ hen,” Soap purrs.

You swallow, feel your cheeks flushing as you say, “Then… you should sit down and have a drink with me. Please?”

He grins, crooked and a little mean. “Anythin’ fer you.”

He drops into his stool again like a king on his throne. You perch gingerly on your own, waving Justin away like an annoying fly. Don’t even look as he slinks off, too busy staring at Soap. Who’s… busy staring at you. As always.

“You never called,” he drawls after ordering. Whiskey, neat. The bartender sets your new drink in front of you; you start sipping to gather your thoughts and nerve. “Lucky I happened to stop in here, eh? Imagine if I’d walked past…”

You grimace a bit. A fantastic bit of luck, that. Thought you’re still not sure what type of luck.

Definitely not going to admit to him that you didn’t call on purpose, wanting plausible deniability if you did see him. As if trying to get him under your skirt by happenstance is better than calling him to do it.

“Why did you stop in here?” You ask, looking to change the subject.

“Could smell you,” he answers, eyes twinkling.

You wrinkle your nose, kick at his shin. Want to blame it on the alcohol, but you drink red wine most nights of the week. This is just… placebo and desperation.

“You’re so nasty, you know that?” You huff.

He arches his eyebrows, grins wolfishly. “Could show you how nasty I can be,” he offers.

You wrinkle your nose even as your cheeks burn. That’s exactly what you’re hoping for.

“You can’t keep talking to me like that,” you complain.

He snorts in amusement, hooking his fingers beneath your stool and tugging you closer. Until your knees are between both of his, jeans brushing against your thighs.

“Here’s the thing, darlin’,” he murmurs, low and private. “I think you like when I talk to you like that.”

You swallow audibly, hands dropping down to twist nervously in your lap.

“I think it makes your pretty pussy all wet and swollen when I get all mean like this,” he continues. You shake your head; his palm clamps down on your thigh beneath your skirt, thumb sweeping back and forth over the sensitive skin. “Think she’s fuckin’ aching fer me to make good on all my promises. And you can get all shy and sweet here, but I bet all your cunt wants is to be mounted and bred like a bitch in heat.”

And he’s right. Of course he’s fucking right. That goddamn bad guy fantasy and your shallow, needy pussy, and Soap’s stupid fucking everything.

You feel like you’re about to explode when the bartender sets his whiskey down, snapping the tension like a rubber band. Feel dizzy as you lean away, sipping desperately at your own drink in an attempt to cool off. He gives you all over maybe fifteen second before opening that sinful mouth again.

“So how about it, bonnie? Did I hit the mark?”

You feel frustrated tears pricking at your eyes. Blink and look away at your nervous hands.

“I-I don’t even know you,” you mutter. “You could be dangerous.”

“I am dangerous, baby,” he replies, “just not to you.”

You shake your head. “You’re awful.”

“Mm and you want me to do awful things to you.”

You sigh through your nose, that little logical voice blaring again. He’s going to hurt you. He’s going to use you.

(Would that be so bad, if you go in knowing it?)

A tug at your necklace startles you out of your thoughts, his finger hooked beneath the pendant. You lean in with a noise of protest, afraid he’s going to break it. Gasp as your lips brush his.

“Whatever’s goin’ on in that pretty head, let me fuck it out of you.”

You shudder, hand balanced on his thick, muscular thigh. Can feel a twitch near your thumb. Holy shit.

“I’ll be so good to you, princess,” he promises. “Let me be good to you.”

You suck in a breath. Now or never.

Well, if nothing else, maybe you’ll let Johnny eat him if he’s turns out to be a bastard.

“Prove it,” you breathe.

He guides your chin up, eyes blazing with hunger.

“Yeah?” He asks.

You blink, muster up your courage. “You heard me. Or are you back out?”

His expression goes deliciously dark. “Oh, I’ll prove it, lass. You just sit right here and I’ll get us sorted.”

His fingers slip just that last little bit up and start teasing at the lace of your panties. You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to sip at your cocktail while he flags down the bartender. His nails scrape lightly across the fabric over your clit as gets your card and throws down enough cash to cover all three drinks.

When he pulls his hand away, you have to bite back a whimper.

“If you don’t get up right now, I’m haulin’ you out of here over my shoulder,” he growls in your ear.

You’re up in an instant, smoothing down your skirt. His hand stays glued to your lower back as he ushers you out to the lot. Sits you down in the passenger seat of a black pickup, barely waits for you to buckle yourself in before peeling out of the lot.

You’re about to tell him your address when you hear the clink of a belt, a zipper. Eyes wide as they drop to his pants, to him fishing a huge, hard cock out of jeans.

“C’mere,” he near snarls.

“Soap, that’s not— mph!”

The head of his cock catches on your teeth, but that only seems to spur him on, hips twitching.

“Gonna ruin that pretty makeup, your pretty hair. Gettin’ all dolled up like that for any fucking wanker to see.”

He twists his fingers in your hair and presses you down, your cheek rubbing against the shaft. He feels huge and unnaturally hot. You press your thighs together as you imagine how it’s going to feel inside of you.

“This isn’t safe,” you complain, mouth open as you gasp against the flushed skin.

He curses, tugs you up so that your lips press against the head, already dripping. Your eyes widen in the darkness, shocked and flattered that you’ve already worked him up this much.

“Not gonnae let anything happen,” he promises, “but you need to convince me not to spank this pretty ass black and blue.”

You squeal as he releases you hair just to deliver a harsh smack to one ass cheek, the sting making you clench up.

“H-hey!”

“You want me to slap that pretty pussy too? Bet I could make you cum just tapping that little clit over and over again. That what you want, slag?”

“N-no!”

“Then show me.”

You seal your mouth around the head, sucking and licking at the precum beading at the tip. Try to brace yourself, nearly gag as he hits a pothole and shoves into your throat. It’s noisy and messy, eyes watering from how thick and deep he is already, not letting you up for more than brief gasps of air.

“Fuck, that’s it baby. Work your tongue just like that…” he groans.

You lose track of everything but trying not to gag, his threat lingering with each obscene slurp and twist of your tongue. He tastes better than you expected, and the scent of him surrounds you. Musk and pine, something familiar that niggles at your cock-drunk brain. Can’t be bothered to work it out though, not when he’s tugging your hair. Not when he comes to an abrupt stop and you deepthroat him.

He yanks you off with a near-animal growl. You whine, scrambling to brace yourself and panting. Your head feels foggy. Know your panties are soaked through; shocked you’re not dripping down your leg. If you were sitting properly, you’d probably leave a wet mark on the seat.

You moan as his mouth crashes into yours, tongue sweeping inside like he owns it. He licks the taste of himself off your tongue, hands fumbling your seatbelt off, dragging you over the center console to straddle his lap.

You gasp at the sight of his rock hard, angry cock next to your pretty dress, pressed up against your stomach. Show just how deep he’ll be inside your guts.

“Fuck, look’it that,” he groans rutting against your stomach. “Oh you were made to be mine.”

You scream as he scoops you up, stepping out of the truck with you over his shoulder.

“Soap!” You shout. “Soap, put me down, my dog—”

“I’m your fuckin’ dog,” he replies.

“No, seriously, he’s protective—”

He grabs the spare out of its hiding place and shoves the door open. You brace for angry barking and growls, but hear nothing. Soap doesn’t even pause. He just kicks the door shut and storms down the hall to your room, like he knows exactly where he’s going.

He drops you onto the bed, watches your breasts bounce as you settle on the mattress. He strips off int he blink of any eyes while you’re still catching your breath.

“W-wait, wait, my—”

He flips you onto your stomach, hikes your ass up high in the air. You squirm, try to crawl away, but he slaps your ass so hard you see stars. He places his palm flat between your shoulder blades to bin you still.

“S-Soap,” you whine as he shoves your skirt up over your ass, palms a cheek. Spreads you open just to let the flesh jiggle back into place.

“Fuck,” he growls. It sounds off. Sounds deeper, rougher now.

“Just-just slow down…!”

He yanks your panties aside, plunges two thick fingers into you. You squeal, legs kicking uselessly against the mattress.

“Oh, you’re plenty ready,” he says, dark, almost to himself. “All ready to be mated and bred. All mine.”

That finally starts to break the lust-drunk haze. Open your mouth to tell him absolutely not, it’s been way to long and your need to be stretched—

He forces his entire cock into you with one brutal thrust. You scream, cry, try to flatten yourself against the bed but he won’t even let you do that, muttering about “presenting” properly. It hurts but it feels good, know that’s it’s just too much.

“Soap,” you sob, “y-you can’t— you have to… I’m-I’m gonna break.”

“Shhhh, no you’re not,” he soothes, grinding a bit deeper. Your eyes roll back, keening through your teeth. “You were made for me. You’re all for me.”

You shake your head, but he just chuckles.

“Yes, baby, yes. You let me in, you kept me. Now we belong to each other.”

“Soap, w-what are you talking about…?” you manage, fists tight in the sheets. He draws back once and slams into you, hard, mean.

Leans down so he’s rumbling directly in your ear.“‘S Johnny, hen.”

You blink, confused and overwhelmed. “W-what… n-no. No, Johnny is my….”

“Woof.”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #dark fic #woof woof johnny #woof woof au

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teethkid67 · 6 months

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you begin your sunday on the couch, dress shoes still on, with a headache and a handful of stale gummy worms from the party last night. schlatt begins his with a cigar, and quackity starts with his arm as an ashtray. fundy is outside picking shotgun shells and fireball bottles out of the grass before you've even had time to say good morning.

it is not a good morning. dark like chew tobacco and slow as tar you realize no-one is coming to save you anymore. quackity won't look you in the eye, but he bites his cheek to keep his grin down as his gaze roams the walls like he can't wait to tear the place apart.

schlatt is the first to take something off the wall: an old, ugly painting wilbur picked up at a homegoods a million years ago. something he surely never gave much of a shit about, but you still flinch when schlatt lifts it from the nail and instructs you to get a garbage bag. but you fetch one and hold it open for him and then, when you put up no fight, and fundy is still outside, and quackity is still all shark smile, he tells you to start cleaning.

that is what it takes for them to begin picking your house to the bones. its methodically at first, dumping old takeaway boxes and draining vodka bottles, then harsh and uncaring like a flood or a struggle, toppling lamps and breaking mirrors. you dutifully pick up solo cups and half-empty pretzel bags and just as dutifully ignore anything that's not evidence of a party. eventually this catches up with you when schlatt tells you to kick it into fuckin' gear, kid, and jerks his chin at the fucking telephone of all things, this place isn't gonna clean itself.

a few minutes later quackity hands you an armful of everything that used to be pinned to your white fridge, looking a little sheepish but frankly not all that guilty. an old worksheet of fundy's is whats at the top of the stack, sunbleached from the window above the sink and with a broken chunk of now-gummy magnet stuck to the page.

WRITE about a time you had to make a difficult decision, it reads in big letters. explain what the decision was and what choice you made. At the top is a big, circled 100.

report cards and sticky notes and novelty magnets are joined by your vomit in the big bin at the curb. with your hands on your knees you take inventory. theres a box of shampoo and soap bars taken from the bathroom, and a bag of bedsheets and pillowcases. theres schlatt's car in your driveway and it makes your heart jackrabbit. wilbur doesn't drive. even if he did, his car wouldn't be out front.

you go back inside and take on the rest of the house with a newfound sense of numbness—emptying your stomach had probably helped. fundy has appeared again, and you help him bag up the books that schlatt had swiped off the mantle to make room for his shotgun. no matter what you do, he won't say a word to you.

eventually you are both led by an eager quackity to the backyard shed, where he hands you a hatchet and fundy a hacksaw and tells you to take down the fence.

schlatt says no more fence, he says, why would we need a fucking fence? so we gotta take the stupid thing down.

you swallow your pride with globs of spit and swing for the support beams so fundy, who quickly abandoned the hacksaw, can tear out the boards with his bare hands. he's mad, if the look on his face and the way he pries at the panels are any indication. at who is anyones guess. you're starting to think it might not be schlatt. quackity arms himself with a chainsaw and has a great, violent time laughing and breaking the wood into manageable sizes for your fireplace.

schlatt comes to lean against the railing on your raised porch and watches the three of you work, smoking what you think is his third cigar of the day. in his other hand is tommy's favorite glass, about a third full with whiskey and ice.

he and quackity shout over the roar of the chainsaw about next steps; living room paint color, new sheets for the bed, what to make for dinner. your arms shake and the afternoon sky darkens with clouds. when the temperature drops and the sky begins to spit down rain, schlatt and quackity duck inside with a shout to finish up out there.

by the time the fence is gone, the sun has set behind the woods, you're soaked to your skin, and your fingers are blue with cold and red with blood blisters. you collapse on the couch–the same one you've slept on for almost as long as you can remember–and shut your eyes against a living room you no longer recognize. fundy disappears into his bedroom and comes back in a set of dry clothes. quackity frowns and tells you to get up, you'll ruin the upholstery, then offers you a slice of mostly-cold pizza.

you slide to sit on the floor instead and pick the onions and bell peppers off the piece of pizza. your stomach turns. thuds and bangs echo through the house, and then its a terrible jerky screech as schlatt and quackity drag wilbur's old executive desk down the hall and through the front door. the corners dig lines into the linoleum and papers and knickknacks are strewn through the whole house.

there's tax records in there, you say, watching a wheat penny skid beneath the couch. they're in the second drawer on the left. and probably the deed, too.

schlatt makes a dismissive noise. don't need 'em. he doesn't say anything else, so you don't either.

as they're turning it through the front door, you watch schlatt grab a silver ring from a rolled-open drawer. he turns it over in his hand before passing it to quackity, who slips it on his finger and examines it under the light. don't get any ideas, honey, schlatt grumbles, and quackity squawks something about schlatt running out on him as they push the desk the rest of the way through the door. they both cackle as it tumbles down the front porch stairs.

you lean forward to pick up an old microwave manual and a receipt for a goodwill donation. for a moment, you can almost pretend you're just spring cleaning while wilbur files your stupid taxes; tommy shredding shit you don't need anymore and threatening to shove your fingers into the blades; fundy sorting grocery receipts. then schlatt slams the front door shut, and the house shakes, and they laugh the whole way down the hall to wilbur's room, quackity still watching the ring sparkle as he turns his hand this way and that. their conversation grows muffled behind the locked bedroom door.

you stare down the hall from your place on the floor. the rain rattles against the house. there're splinters in your hands. you feel like you missed your opportunity to cry about it all, so you finish your pizza instead, even the crusts. then you pull yourself to you feet, socks squelching in your dress shoes, and grab another trash bag and your hoodie from the coat closet.

slowly, you creep through the front door and down the steps, past schlatt's pontiac, and begin hunting through the bags and piles of your whole life for anything you can save.

#block party #things i make #dsmp #dream smp #tubbo #dream smp fanfiction #i dont write that often anymore and this is only a second draft bjt honestly thats more than i used to do anyway so. im pleased enough #happy november 16th heres a piece about manberg beginnings in block party #second person pov #my writing

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eating-the-inedible · 1 year

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Here is a list of the inedibles that will be in this bracket

Lava

Orbeez

Orange Joe (fictional "beverage" that's a combination of orange juice and coffee)

Doll shoes

Dirt

Pen caps

Mercury

Watermelon tourmaline

Comet/scouring powder

Moss

Paper towels

Play-Doh

Drywall

Marbles

DVD

Dice

Kinetic Sand

Coins

Fiberglass insulation

3DS Stylus

Plastic Bottle Cap

Chapstick

Babybell Cheese Wax

Paper

Bouncy ball

Human meat

Venus (planet)

Cascade dishwasher pods

Acrylic Paint

Magnets

Molten glass

Pens

Sea glass

Silica gel packet

Leaves

Cocoa butter lotion

Antifreeze

Pencil Toppers, the lil eraser things

Sand

Tumbled amethyst

Rubber Ducks

The rubber balls from the game Cranium Cariboo

Polly pocket clothes

Poison Dart Frog

Snow

0.1 uF Film Capacitor

The sun

Metal

Eraser

Tide pods

Phone charger wire

Those free wooden pencils you get at ikea (just the wood shell not the lead)

Liquid nitrogen

Aquarium gravel

the weird science juice in the beakers in those stock images

Origami star

Styrofoam cup

Sticky note

Collar of shirt

This submission form

Plastic straws

Glow sticks

Oil paintings

Candle wax

Glass

Nickel sulfate solution/Nickel plating solution

Silicone wristbands

Seatbelt

The wax paper under your Poutine

Forearm (doesn't have to be one's own)

Asbestos

Candy wrapper

“Okay so technically this is edible but I’ve had urges to just take a huge bite out of certain sea creatures before. Like just a chunk from an orca or dolphin or great white or seal, etc.”

“Those stupid wooden spoons”

Furbies

Scotch tape

Artificial grapes (the wax/plastic ones for display)

phone

THE FLESH OF MY ENEMIES

Crystals

Fire

The goo inside Stretch Armstrong

Headphone wire

Raw steak

Art

Small colorful rubber bands

Tinfoil

Pencil lead

Cattails (the plant)

Foamy soap

Liquid soap

Bar soap

Flourite

Shiny rocks

Grass

A hunk of random fish swimming by

A live goldfish

Toothpaste

Styrofoam

Price Tag Fasteners

The moon

Pool noodles

Smol frog

Destroying angel mushroom

the smoke coming out of the grain refineries two Mike's out of Gary, Indiana, Usa

Popsicle sticks

Cardboard

My hat

The tiny rocks in school playgrounds

Gasoline

Blue laundry detergent

Spray foam insulation

Battery corrosion

Fiber optic cables

Packing peanuts

Your mother

Pond water

Dry ice

Alkali metals

Chocolate shampoo

Ping pong ball

Bricks, like the stuff you'd build with. Minecraft bricks even, if you want

Hoodie drawstrings

Horse treats

Chalk

Copper (II) Sulphate Water / Blue Science Rock + Blue Science Juice

Ink

Floam

Fabric Paint

Oil paint

that one art piece of the banana taped to the wall

the hotdog somebody encased in resin

“the thin lego plates not the base plates but like the lego piece thats like 2x8 and they kinda look like hershey chocolate bar pieces”

One of those little hamsters

Model magic

Battery Acid (the drink)

manchineel apple

Rubber band ball

The lava lamp liquid

Blood

Rosin

Wax apples

That cake decoration that came with your slice and you're like 90% sure it's not edible... but what if ?

Soap bubble

Lush cosmetics' products

Plushies

Strawberry Shortcake's dolls with scented hair

Wood

Glue

Salt lamp

People who think children are not worth their consideration

Tarmac

Shampoo

Pennies

Poisonous berries

Chunky soft yarn

Crayons

Rock

“whatever the Chuck E Cheese Ticket Muncher Machine is eating (it's not the tickets) (or the sound itself but that's neither a solid nor a liquid so this is just kind of holding hands with the hypothetical ticket muncher food)”

Snow globe liquid

Chisel tip whiteboard marker

Raw dough

Raw fuckin cactus. alive

Grape agate

Car seat

Succulents

Keys

Lock pick

Scrub daddy

Molten sugar

Allergens

Lightning bolts

“Bark dust. Like the dirt/bark dust that's under the bark chips on a playground. Not the chips themselves. The dust.”

Clear deodorant

Apple earbud wires

Eggshells

Squinkies

Hello kitty sweatshirt zipper

Preshredded mozzarella cheese

Scrap metal

Rose

All of the rocks at a crystal shop

Origami polyhedron model

Bubbles mixture

Cupcake liners

Hair gel

Curtain rods

Incense sticks

Incense cones

Metal thing that attaches eraser to pencil

Windshield wiper fluid

Plastic pencil grips

Wooden ice cream spoon

Book

Tree

The liquid in levels

Vanilla extract

Aroace flag

Coil incense

California state testing “next question” button

Spackle

Forbidden coal iron french fries

Garage doors that look like chocolate bars

Plastic takeout box

Velvet

Weird anime girl hair

Freezable gel ice pack

Clouds

Necklace chains

Nail polish

Pencil Shavings

Pool floats

Bao Dumpling

Spray deodorant

0.1 uF Ceramic Capacitor

Vanillish (Pokémon)

Fondant

Really fancy pillars

Computers

Favorite song

Tumblr

“THE LITTLE ORBS IN THE MOUSE (aka trackballs)”

“Any cutesy anime character like Chopper or Pikachu”

Wooden fan blades

Balsa wood sticks

Those blankets that look like tortillas

Microwave

Milk and golden honey softsoap

Batteries

1x2 lego pieces

Light bulbs

Slightly melted lounge chair

Cork (the material)

Pineapple coke

Fingernails

Sparkly lipgloss

Race Car Tire Marble

Gold trophies

Konjac sponge

Shirt

Mandy the Slayer / Orange Spyderco Dragonfly Knife

Malachite

Heater

Glasses Temples

Typewriter keys

EVA foam

Airplane

Sword

Crumbs in the couch

Children

My wife's arm/shoulder

Records

Yellow ACE bandages

Neon Signs

Scented candles

#Im pretty sure i included everything that was submitted #eating the inedible #not a poll #sorry this is a bit chunky #masterlist of inedibles

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particleofgodsimp · 7 hours

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Biting Down Chapter 2

Read it here

Mild NSFW below the cut! Mentions of blood and open wounds ahead. :D

The walk to the showers felt like millions of miles away. Wyatt’s legs shook with each step as he tried to hastily walk from his quarters to the showers. The thought of running into a crew member also made Wyatt anxious. Wyatt would rather jump off the nearest cliff rather than explain his current state in this moment.

Wyatt managed to luck out, even the showers were empty “Thank God,” Wyatt sighed as he entered an empty stall. Wyatt removed his clothes, the dry fabric dragged against dry spots of blood on his body, it felt gross. The sleeve of his shirt grazed against his bite; Wyatt hissed at the stinging sensation it caused.

Now he stands there naked and filthy, covered in his own blood and semen. Wyatt picked at the large chunks of fluid that had dried to his stomach, his face contorted in disgust as the chunks fell from his stomach to the floor.

Wyatt turned on the shower and immediately stood beneath the lukewarm water simply feeling his body relax. His legs had stopped shaking and soreness began to set in, even bending over caused slight discomfort with his stomach muscles being sore as well.

Grabbing his bar of soap Wyatt began lathering himself scrubbing away at the blood and cum that had dried. Carefully he scrubbed his fingers around the bite wound trying not to get a lot of soap in it. “Ow, shiiiit,” Wyatt hissed still managing to get some soap in the open wound. Although he was alone, his face still heated up in embarrassment, thank God for the long sleeve uniforms at least.

Once there was no sign of blood above his waist, Wyatt’s hand focused on scrubbing at the blood between his legs. He did not realize just how much was caked to his dick and thighs. Mindlessly, Wyatt scrubbed and scrubbed, the post orgasm regret set in as he realized how much of a disgusting mess he was.

Wyatt stepped out of the shower feeling refreshed and promptly wrapped a towel around his waist. Stepping out of the stall he headed for the sinks. Wyatt found the first aid kit and began rummaging through the tin box. Finding a tube of ointment, gauze, and tape he began tending to the bite on his forearm. A dull pain throbbed from the area, his skin around his teeth marks was flushed and beginning to bruise in some spots. The bleeding slowed a significant amount and only pooled in the deeper sections.

Wyatt opened the ointment and applied a sizable amount to the gauze before placing it on his arm. The ointment stung slightly as he pressed the gauze to his skin. Wyatt stood there for a moment staring at himself in the mirror. His eyes closed as he took a deep breath in remembering for a moment what it felt like to bite down on his arm. Although he was exhausted at this moment the hunger still sat in his stomach. “Later,” Wyatt thought to himself as he finished patching himself up.

Wyatt dressed himself and headed back to his quarters, stopping by the supply room on the way for a fresh set of bed sheets. The door to his room hissed open, this time he did not lock it behind him as he entered. Wyatt approached his bed looking at the mess that had dried to his sheets from his earlier activity. Wyatt groaned as he removed the dirty sheets from his bed throwing them on the floor. Wyatt put the clean sheets on, he was beat, he did not even want to put the sheets on, but he managed. As he finished, he stood up looking at the time, seven fifty-three, “Damn what an early time to turn in,” Wyatt sighed.

Wyatt flopped on the bed face down. His breathing slowed as sleep finally caught up with him. Thoughts of Krissy played in his mind as he fell asleep with a satisfied smile on his face.

#fort solis #wyatt taylor #ao3 #fanfic #smut

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anawkwardlady · 1 year

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I have another confession that is less cute. so last December my family and I went to Harry Potter world, as you do when you're in California, and I was more or less dragged along. didnt want to see much because yknow, terf shit JK is an ass etc etc, BUT one experience we had was we did buy one of those chocolate frogs. it's maybe the size of your hand, frog-mold shaped, chunk of solid mediocre, dubiously ethical chocolate. anyway, my parents got it for me, so of course, when we came back home, it was my job to eat the little fucker

here's the issue. it is solid chocolate and infused with enough preservatives to kill a horse. even room temperature, I could NOT get my teeth into it. I didnt know how you were supposed to eat it and, even after hacking away at it with a knife, its limbs STILL wouldn't come off. What the FUCK is in the chocolate? easter bunnies are brittle if you apply enough force! it was like trying to chew on a dry bar of soap.

so, yknow what I did?

I microwaved it. I put the boy in there for thirty seconds and hoped to god he would liquify. but he didn't. I took out the hot, hopefully-melty frog and, in a moment of sheer animal rage, bit it as hard as I could, and I didnt even manage to tear off a leg. there are just now, an imprint of my teeth, in the lower thigh of this chocolate devil. and at the moment it's still in the pantry. I haven't returned to it. it beat me. its got its battle scars, and I'm the loser. I can't even share it with anyone because they're going to say "why is there a bite mark in its butt?" and thats just unsanitary

No no no non. non.

That is not going to happen you are not going to let it win. But also you were into microwaving little fuckers before it was cool so at least it preserve your dignity.

It's time to up the stakes. It's time for the oven. Or a steam session. Or to sue because someone could lose a teeth on that thing omg.

Also I would not eat that.

#thats how i imagine all us chocolate now #answered

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poly-eats · 10 months

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Cantina Laredo

River: Last night, Jon and I went on a date! And that means it's time for some good food. Tonight's restaurant of choice was Cantina Laredo at the Mall of America, a self-described "Taste of Modern Mexico." Their dinner menu, which includes things like soups, tapas, tacos, fajitas, and enchilladas, as well as lots of fruity drinks, tequilas, and mezcals, seemed interesting and, despite me having been to the Mall many times before and passing by this very restaurant, I'd never tried it until now, so we thought it was perfect for a post-Spencer's-shopping-trip date idea.

When we got there, it was relatively quiet, though it was a Wednesday night, so that wasn't too weird. We got sat at a table in the corner with very pretty appetizer plates! Actually, the whole restaurant was decorated very nicely, with a classy, dark wood theme throughout and some woven baskets and other wall-hangings to give it some flair.

Our first dish was a classic tortilla chips and dip. I forgot to ask what was in it, as I like it very much, but if I had to take a guess, I'd say there were some kind of beans, chilies, cilantro and maybe some garlic in it.

This dish however, was where we ran into a main problem with the restaurant that was absolutely no fault of theirs. For those of you who do not know, there are some people with a gene that makes cilantro taste not like the yummy staple of Mexican cooking that it is, but more like getting your mouth washed out with a bar of soap, and, unfortunately, Jon has been cursed with this trait. That would have been fine, had we actually remembered to ask our waiter for no cilantro on things. So unfortunately, a large chunk of Jon's night was spent picking cilantro off of his food, and this dip, which I liked very much, was kinda off-limits to him, unfortunately. Again, I want to stress that it's no fault of the restaurant, we just forgot to make them aware of this.

Dragon Fruit Fresca

River: Anyway, Jon's going to tell you about the drink he got! I usually don't get anything since I'm the designated driver between us, but I get to have small sips of whatever cocktail he tries. In this case, it was the Dragon Fruit Fresca, a mix of Casamigos Blanco Tequila, Monin Dragon Fruit Syrup, fresh lime juice, and Fever-Tree Sparkling Grapefruit, for a price of $15.

Jon: Good drink! Much Fruit! Now, back to River with the food.

River: T...that's your whole review? Maybe I shouldn't make you be designated driver and I review drinks instead...

Jon: Okay, okay... In all seriousness, the drink was tasty, and the alcohol wasn't very noticeable (most alcohol tastes like how rubbing alcohol smells to me). I was a little disappointed by the amount, as the glass was mostly filled with ice, and that's a little sad for $15

River: I would agree, the lime masked the bite of the tequila well, which allowed it to be a smooth, tropical drink. I tend to not like lime as much, so it wasn't exactly my kind of drink, but I think that it was well-put-together and, had I liked lime more, I think I would have maybe stolen this one from him.

Anyway, as he said, onto the food!

Chicken Nachos

River: The first dish we ordered was the nachos, and, full disclosure, this was a lot more fancy than I thought it would be, since I was expecting something like the greasy pile of chips, cheese, meat, and other toppings in a basket that I served at my last job. Being on the tapas section of the menu, however, it makes sense that they would be more bite-sized and more refined. These had three options; one for $9.50 with no meat, one with grilled chicken (which we got) for $15, and the most expensive option at $17, which included fire-charred skirt steak.

I was pretty happy with the grilled chicken ones. They had a layer of refried beans hidden under the melted cheese that I didn't even notice until Jon pointed it out to me which added some nice flavor, and on top there was a nicely-seasoned slice of chicken, some refreshing diced tomatoes, and, of course, Jon's nemesis, cilantro. They also came with scoops of sour cream, guacamole, and some sliced jalapeños. I especially liked them with the sour cream, and they were a nice starter, and I got to take some home with me for lunch today! I'm also a bit of a "good plating" nerd, so the construction of this dish made my brain very happy.

Jon: As mentioned prior, I have a genetic bias against anything with cilantro (which sucks, as I now cannot call myself a true human trashcan who will eat anything put in front of me), but despite this (and a few minutes of picking off the cilantro), they were pretty good! My only real complaint is the amount we got for the price (I'm stingy by nature, though, so take that with a grain of salt).

Chicken Enchiladas with Beans and Rice

River: Just recently at work I got introduced to the magic that is creamy poblano enchilada sauce, as we made a version for our customers, so when I saw that the menu had, as they describe it, "Pulled chicken enchiladas, monterey jack, with sour cream poblano sauce," I knew I had to try it.

As you can see, I got the option with two enchiladas for $13 (you can get a third for another $3), which isn't bad based on just how much food there was on the plate. I don't know if this picture really does it justice, but a problem (or a bonus, depending on how you look at it) that we had were that all of our plates were enormous, especially Jon's, which you'll see in a bit. We ended up taking home two full takeout boxes, so really, it's like you're getting two dinner's worth of food for the price of one. In terms of taste, the enchiladas were very smooth and rich, and not overly-soggy. The sauce was mild but flavorful, and my only complaint would be that I was struggling to pick it up cleanly with my fork, which made it a bit messy (though that could be just an enchilada thing in general).

The rice is fairly good, it wasn't mind-blowing, but it was definitely better than my attempts at making mexican rice at home. It was subtley tomato-y without being too overpowering, and was a nice side dish. The beans, however, were very good, and I guess I've just never had good refried beans before, because I've always pictured them as being soggy and gritty, but these ones were neither. They were smooth and were topped with cheese, and went very well on our leftover tortilla chips. Overall, I would absolutely get this again, and I'll probably have the leftovers for lunch.

Grilled Steak Fajita Burrito

Jon: I can actually rate this one fairly, as the cilantro was only a garnish!

The rice was pretty good! I personally prefer my rice to stick, but overall, pretty good rice! The beans were pretty good refried beans, I just wish it had a bit more mozzarella (What can I say, I'm a whore for cheese). The main dish, the Steak Fajita Burrito, however, was an honest shocker. I was expecting something similar to what you would probably make at home, just with fancier ingredients. What I wasn't expecting was a monster of a burrito, slathered in a delicious cheese sauce with a wonderful kick of spiciness inside. And it was no slouch with the steak either, the whole thing was packed with it! I would have eaten it all if I wasn't told to save some space for dessert (I am eating the leftovers as I type this, it's even good cold).

My only issue is that, when ordering it, you have to specify that you want the burrito, NOT the fajita. The menu has this placed under the 'Burrito' section, with its name being 'Grilled Steak Fajita,' and there's also a fajita section with steak fajitas. Everything in the burrito section has fajita in the name, so be sure to specify, so as to not confuse the waiter!

Overall, with the sides and the massive size of it, definitely worth the $17 price!

Flan

River: Finally, we had one of my favourite desserts that I have to get every time I see it on a menu, flan! For those who don't know, it's a mexican caramel custard dessert, and the texture is a mix of jell-o and egg tart filling. I am a huge texture person and a lot of the way I experience and enjoy food is by how it feels in my mouth, and flan always feels so soft and luscious, it's great. This version was no exception to that high praise, and at just $8, I'd definitely get it again!

Jon: I had never had Flan before, so I was pretty excited with how much River had been hyping it up! The texture was nice and smooth, and it tasted pretty good! It's not my favorite dessert by a longshot, but i'll happily eat it again!

In Conclusion...

River: I'd say this is a fantastic restaurant with good food and reasonable prices. We spent about $90 there including a tip, and I think that's good given that it was a fun date and with the amount of leftovers we got out of it. I'd absolutely come back here again to try some more food, such as the Sopa de Tortilla ($6.50 cup/$10 bowl), the Pescado Tacos ($14.50 for 2/$16 for 3), the Carne Asada ($25), or the other yummy-sounding desserts like the Mexican Apple Pie or Mango Tres Leches (both $8.50). I'd definitely recommend it to someone who has a taste for quality mexican food that's a bit higher-end, or just anyone who likes flan like me.

Jon: I agree! Although I say some of it is a bit overpriced (Over a dollar per nacho!!), the food is good enough to warrant many return visits in the future! Will definitely have to try the 'Cancun' next time I'm there!

#food #food diary #cantina laredo #food review #foodie #restaurant #mexican cooking #enchiladas #flan #nachos #burrito #mexican cuisine #good food #food blog #mall of america #cooking

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astrumborn · 10 months

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"...Lucen? ......Why is there a bite taken out of this bar of soap??" Roako is confused and holding a decorative soap bar with a sizable chunk out of it.

@members-of-the-guild

Their face was still contorted in disgust at the initial taste of the soap! Now they were embarrassed too!

"..Well...I didn't think of it as soap....at first. "

#//mobile blogging #//long post #membersoftheguild #{ic please forgive me}#//even a supposed demigod can have dumb moments

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bacon-sandwich-of-dionysus · 1 year

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Last Line

I have been ambushed by @cuckoo-on-a-string with the Last Line game! The idea is to post the last few lines or chunks of your current WIP.

I tag @nsharks! No pressure to play! I came across your fic for Ghost here and it was soooo good! I loved it! :D

So yeah! Here's a chunk from Chapter 4 of 'Baying Dogs'! I hope you all enjoy <3

Warning for violence and gore (Yep, we're getting grimmer, gals!)

He hadn’t told anyone this, but he was really shaken up from the incident. And to make matters worse, Soap was pretty sure something was wrong with him. It was almost like an out-of-body experience: that arm was not his own. He had willed with all his might to release her wrist, but his fingers wouldn’t budge.

She got lucky.

MacTavish was certain he would have gone for her throat if she gave him a chance right then and there.

He wanted to puke.

That was disgusting. That was a disgusting thought. The fact his brain even managed to conjure up the image of such an action…

He couldn’t tell a soul. If they knew, they’d kill him, regardless of Shepherd’s orders. Sure, they were obeying the general’s request to not punish, let alone take this up formally, but Soap knew if he stepped one toe out of line, Price would forget who he was working for.

The anger in that man’s eyes, the confusion and fear.

Soap had never seen such an expression on Price’s face.

Ghost wouldn’t stick up for him either.

He was a professional. He may have liked the lad but if Soap became a liability… he’d be dead.

Riley wouldn’t think twice.

They were soldiers after all. This wasn’t a band of merry men who had gotten lost, they were still on the job and the job, in this case, was just to wait.

Maybe they should just kill him.

Because Soap had this sinking feeling that something was slowly beginning to eat away at him, and that act of violence was it indulging in its first bite.

Soap watched Ghost come back from his bathroom trip, balaclava concealing his paling face.

He watched him kick off his boots and get into his sleeping bag, letting out a small squeak of pain as he accidentally landed some of his weight on his bad shoulder.

Ghost had been in that bathroom for a while, probably over twenty minutes.

Soap would have wagered it was due to an upset stomach, thanks to the terrible food they were having but something in his gut told him otherwise.

As to what, you may ask.

Something to do with his mouth. As he had walked in, pulling the mask back over the lower half of his face, Soap noticed a trickle of red dripping from the corner of Simon's mouth. He assumed it was red. In reality, it just looked dark thanks to it being almost pitch black in here.

In the khazi, Ghost had been doing his usual routine of splashing his face with the cold tap water, hoping that would distract him from his aching joints- a recent development, mind you, probably something he should have Dougs check out- when he felt something weird in his mouth.

It was hard like a seed or nut, caught in his cheek.

He poked at it with his tongue, out of primitive curiosity.

When he couldn’t quite dislodge it using that method, the man decided it would probably be best to pick it out using his hands. He couldn’t imagine what it would be, seeing as what they had been eating for the past few days had pretty much been either slop or sickly sugary food bars. Not having much of a sweet tooth, he hadn’t touched any of them, staving off his hunger pangs by distracting himself with patrols and card games.

Anyways, he did eventually manage to fish out the bother.

And with it, a string of saliva, reddened with blood.

What the…

Held between his index finger and thumb was a tooth. His molar to be precise.

#baying dogs #cod mwii fic #werewolf au #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #and an oc #hope you enjoy!#tag game

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purplesurveys · 2 years

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1547

What weird food combinations do you enjoy? It’s not weird in my culture but I might get stares for it somewhere else – instant noodles and bread. We usually eat the combination either as a sandwich, or just separately where you take a bite of the bread after a forkful of the noodles.

Where do you get your news? It’s largely online now. Sometimes I’ll catch a glimpse of the news on TV, but that’s only whenever my family and I sit down for dinner.

What social stigma does society need to get over? Within my own society/culture at least, abortion and pre-marital sex. What is the best/worst prank that you've played on someone? Just easy ones like hiding someone’s phone. I’m not a big prankster.

What was the last photo you took? A ‘depression fort’ is what I wanna call it haha, that I made yesterday. I’m feeling unwell this weekend so a significant chunk of yesterday was spent covered in a huge blanket and watching hours of Run BTS on end. Does BTS even know how many lives they’ve saved from a single web series? I really hope they do.

What are you currently worried about? Just...the week ahead. Heavy workload as always and I technically should be working on them this weekend to save myself the backlog but my god have I been nonstop for the last few days. I’m thinking of giving myself just these two days so I can have some semblance of work-life balance, lol.

Do you think aliens exist? Sure do. Have you seen that recent photo of how big this universe is?

What mythical creature do you wish actually existed? I don’t care for those.

What are you interested in that most people aren't? Taking these surveys, probably. < Haha this is good. The royal family, too. I know most people tune into them and know who they are, but I doubt many others have read up on them and their history at least as much as I have. It’s a weird little interest that always sends me into conflict about my feelings about them, lol.

What's the most ridiculous thing you have bought? It was this stupid soap bar that was pink and had “Gay Bar” carved on it. It was meant to be a silly novelty gift for my ex way way back but for some reason I never got to hand it over, so it stayed with me for years. It was stupidly, stupidly expensive and I still don’t know what was running through my head when I decided to buy it and thought it would make a funny gift lol.

What sounds hit you with major nostalgia every time you hear them? 1 Thing by Amerie. And any hit from the 2000s to early 2010s, really.

If given the oppurtunity to open a museum, what kind would you create? It’d be an art gallery and I’d love to curate works created by Armys because there are loads of talented fans out there. I don’t plan on making the exhibits BTS-themed since I feel that would get boring so fast, but it’ll be a collection of works from local artists who just so happen to be fellow fans.

When was the last time you immediately regretted what you said? I’m not sure, actually. It’s been a while since I just blurted something out without thinking haha, I tend to be more cautious these days.

What's the silliest thing you've seen someone get upset about? My mom turns into a complete Karen every time we drive into a village we don’t have a car sticker (i.e. proof of home ownership) to and is asked to turn in an ID, and it drives me nuts. I tell her every time that “this has literally ALWAYS been the rule” – and it really has been, you’ve always needed to surrender a fucking ID until the pandemic – but why it makes her go off the rails I’ll never understand. I feel the worst about the fact that she takes it out on the security guards who are just following the rules. What was the best thing that happened to you today? It’s the weekend.

Do you consider yourself a good cook? Nah.

What's the dumbest thing someone has argued with you about? I had an aunt who once couldn’t stop harassing me about the fact that she thinks my favorite singers/groups lipsync. She’s the type of person who believes she’s right 100% of the time and will always shove her truth down your throat to satisfy herself, so I remember being super annoyed at that useless conversation. And I was like 13 at the time, so I didn’t and still don’t understand why she wanted to push my buttons that day.

What did you google last? Sogalbisal.

What fashion trend makes you cringe or laugh everytime you see it? When designer brands make distressed versions of normal clothes. Like ripped jeans, ripped t-shirts are fine, they’re whatever – by distressed versions I mean like making versions of clothes that look like they’ve been worn a thousand times and dragged through grass and mud. There was one that went viral not too long ago, I just can’t for the life of me remember the brand name right now.

What's your favorite holiday movie? Love Actually is a Christmas tradition for me and my cousins.

How ambitious are you? I have a good amount of it in me, which I feel shoud be necessary especially now that I’m still in my early (soon mid) 20s...I feel like my job is currently imprisoning me quite a bit, but I also know that as soon as I figure out the timing and get the hell out of it my ~ambition is gonna go balls to the wall crazy hahaha.

What topic could you spend forever talking about? Childhood memories.

Which way should toilet paper hang, over or under? Over.

What word is a lot of fun to say? Schtick.

If you didn't have to sleep, what would you do with the extra time? Binge-watch a buuuuuuuunch of stuff.

Are you usually early or late? I used to be passionately early all the time for everything. That changed after the pandemic I think, because now I’m usually anywhere between 5-30 minutes late to stuff.

What do you wish you knew more about? Anything to do with art and creating things, really. Painting, shading, using Photoshop, editing videos...it’s a pity because my imagination has the tendency to go wild and I always can’t bring those visions to life.

What is the most annoying question you've been asked? When I’m planning to be in a relationship and/or have kids. I always just tell those people “we’ll see” because it’s much safer and family-friendly than “I don’t date anymore because a past relationship nearly killed me.”

How different was your life 1 year ago? I still liked my job and went into every day enjoying my workload with my teammates, but other than that not much has changed. I’m still happy (at least in all other aspects of my life that’s not work) and I’m still obsessed with BTS lol; I’m just burned out now and can’t say I ever got close to my associate.

What quirks do you have? I always get called out for not liking fruits.

What movie title best describes your life? Maybe Into the Wild, just because I’m thrust to new different experiences everyday and my life is generally fast-paced. What was the last lie you told? My dad asked how I was doing, to which I replied I’m doing great. The only other option was break down in tears and I wasn’t doing that, hahaha.

What type of music do you listen to? To say my music catalog is overwhelmingly K-pop is an understatement. Sometimes I’ll go back to my roots and listen to punk rock, synth pop, folk, indie, etc...but it doesn’t take long before I go back to K-pop.

Are you a good listener? Sure.

What is your favorite milkshake flavor? Cookies and cream or anything that incorporates my favorite chocolate snacks like Maltesers or Kit-Kat.

Do you think you're brave? Not entirely. There are things I’m brave about and some things that I’m not.

What are you most grateful for in your life? My friends have done a spectacular job helping me keep sane and avoid another panic attack/nervous breakdown, which I haven’t had in years.

What is a relationship deal breaker for you? My last relationship made me realize I’m way too forgiving because I had always let go of stuff that should’ve been dealbreakers. But now that I know better, gaslighting would be a big ol’ red flag.

What are some things that give you complete peace of mind? Anything that is not work, honestly. My bar for peace and happiness has been set too low at this point LOL that anything I do or go to or experience that isn’t remotely related to my job already helps me tons.

Would you like to explore another planet? I mean yeah but only if I magically got to be part of like a NASA project or something. I wouldn’t want to hop on something that is entirely for commercial purposes. Who was your favorite cartoon character as a child? Spongebob.

What would you do if you were the president of your own country? Give the Marcoses hell.

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insteadoflight · 3 years

Text

the soap

bar on my desk looks like candy, and i wonder if

lately i’ve been feeling happy, in a way where the emotion isn’t a bubble about to pop and slam me hard into concrete but rather a swell of a wave, bringing me to sea, and when i’m riding it i forget drowning is imminent.

i am riding the wave and i feel alive and--

nothing, nothing, nothing can stop me and

i can bite it, and it is very soft,

drowning

is not as bad as a crash into asphalt, since there is no pain, no breaking bones. just slow drifting, surrounded by bubbles and salt and fading sunlight.

and my teeth leave an imprint, and why not bite through the whole thing?

#yeah okay so i actually bit a chunk out of a soap bar #i would be ashamed if i wasn't so freaked out for why i did it #like im a fucking adult why am i eating motherfucking soap #fabian stop cursing in the tags #poetry #prosepoem #poets on tumblr #soap #mental illness #even tho i dont say it yes im biting soap bc my head is fucky

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nightfallgame · 3 years

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Commission fic time! I had just two of these left from earlier, and now that they’re done, I’m completely caught up. uwu This one features Viktoria and just, so much angst. Enjoy!

. . .

She adores you. That’s the truth that Viktoria can never deny. Even if you hardly look her way, she knows what kind of person you are and loves you for it. From a simple crush from afar to deep-set infatuation, all it had taken was you holding her hand and helping her to her feet after the crushing fog in her head made it impossible to stand on her own.

And so, she follows you. Always trailing behind you, looking for any chance to be useful or get close, she daydreams endlessly about what it’ll be like when you finally decide she’s worth your precious affection.

The dream continues, intact, until the day the other one appears.

This other girl is part of the student council. She’s slim and petite, straight-figured, with sleek, dark hair and the smell of sharp perfume lingering around her frame. Her clothes are neatly pressed, her nails are manicured, and her glasses are spotless. The opposite of Viktoria herself.

“Did you need something?” you ask.

“I... wanted to know if I could spend some time with you today...?” she mumbles. It’s impossible to look at you when her gaze keeps flickering to that other woman perched on the desk just inches away from your side.

“Ah, um, I have plans. Sorry.” Your answer is a little too quick. The girl beside you smirks. She levels a quiet glare over her silver frames.

Viktoria doesn’t ask you things like that too often. She can rarely work up the initiative to say what comes to her mind, and even then, it’s not like you’ve ever said yes. Aside from that one time, it’s like she doesn’t exist. It’s like you don’t care at all beyond that passing moment where she fell in love.

While you dismiss yourself, Viktoria lingers. It’s half because she’s lost in thoughts of desperate longing... and half because she can’t stand the way the bitch in front of her keeps staring— like she thinks she’s better.

“Take a hint,” the girl snaps as soon as the door closes behind you. “They don’t like your advances. Don’t you know how to read a room?”

“What makes you think you’re right?” Viktoria hisses in return. A deep, sick sense of rage settles somewhere near her ribcage and festers. All she can think about is her hands around the slim column of the girl’s neck.

“Can’t you tell? You’re not their type.” She examines her painted nails pointedly, shining the plum-colored claws against her shirt. “They like classy, slender, and clean, not a cow-titted, disheveled, messy whore like you. You look like a filthy slut, not a proper woman. And they’re never going to give you the time of day because of that. You’re just not what they want.” With a mocking, toothy grin, the other one stands up and walks away.

Viktoria is left standing there, biting furious blood into her mouth.

That night, when she’s back in her room, she strips. Peeling away layers of wrinkled, messy clothing, she bares herself to the beige walls.

Her breasts are full and heavy. They sag to her ribcage, topped with dark, prominent nipples. Her hips curve in a wide swell, and even with the gap between her thighs, what flesh is there jiggles as she moves. Lank, greasy hair days overdue for a wash falls in her face, and eyes lined with bruise-dark bags stare back at her in her reflection, dismayed.

Is this really a body you despise? Even as much as she loves you, would you reject her because of it? Sick down to the pit of her stomach, Viktoria goes to the bathroom, not caring if she’s seen, padding on bare feet, and turns the shower’s dial up to scalding. She steps under the spray.

Heat pours down her shoulders and soaks through her hair, dribbling water into her eyes and over her lips. Her skin flushes red under it, but she hardly feels the sting. This is the part where she usually can’t find the energy to do anything but stand there until the water runs cold. Not this time. Even though it takes all of the energy she has in her, Viktoria grabs the closest bar of soap. Roughly, quickly, she scrubs at her skin like she could tear it all right off. She lathers her fingers with white and rakes them through her tangled hair, even as black chunks come out in her hands.

The tears start to fall before long. They mingle with the water still pouring into her face, only noticeable for the way her heart twists up into knots as she cries. The soap hits the shower floor. Viktoria drops.

She wouldn’t care if you used her. If you didn’t love her at all and only took what you wanted from her body and mind. There’s only so much she can change about herself, only so far she can go to become what you’d like to see. Looking down at her pendulous, udder-like chest, Viktoria almost gags. This isn’t what you want. She’s not what will please you.

And she stays there, heaving with sobs until there’s nothing left.

When it’s done, Viktoria pulls herself from the lukewarm cascade and slips back to her room, not bothering with a towel. She leaves a bloodstain-like trail of dark, wet splotches on the carpet behind her, reminiscent of a murder scene in progress. The door shuts a little too hard.

There aren’t any tears left. Instead of the sharp, tugging pain of crying, she’s empty inside all the way down. She’s tired.

Viktoria pulls her nightgown on so roughly she hears a few threads snap. Slithering underneath her sheets and bundling them around her feels like hiding, even still soaking wet and quickly getting chilled.

Tomorrow, she’ll try to find clean clothes. She’ll brush her hair before she goes to class, even if it takes all the energy she has. Viktoria knows she’ll never be good enough, never as right as that other girl, but if she can make herself even a little bit better, maybe you’ll look her way again. Maybe you’ll take her hand once more and bring back that brief spark of happiness.

#Viktor Lucero #East City Boarding School #Fic #Genderswap Au #Lemon

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arsenicpanda · 3 years

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Can you please share a snippet from Angsty Byghead Reunion ?

So like, the premise of this fic is that Jughead and Betty, still broken up and also living way better lives than canon gave them (and there's a chunk of this fic that's dedicated to how they've each rebuilt things post-cheating and post-high school), independently get completely trashed on what would have been their ten year anniversary and sleep with someone who looks like the other because angst, except surprise! They actually slept with each other, and they wake up and think they're dreaming and have a very honest talk and bone and go back to sleep, and then they wake up again and realize, "ohhhh, shit, what did I do?"

So, like, I'm gonna give you a snippet from each section below the cut:

Jughead's life:

Six months into his life in New York and the week of his first book’s publication, he runs into Veronica at one of the many networking parties his publisher makes him attend.

Stuffed into a suit and picking off canape after canape, he finds her avoiding everyone by the bar. A stilted, obligatory conversation of how are you’s and oh, it’s been so long’s morphs into a conversation of (or rather a debate about) classic cinema, the merits and failures of Hitchcock, and whether Breakfast at Tiffany’s is better than In Cold Blood.

“You cannot deny the misogyny in Hitchcock’s films, Torombolo.”

“I’m not; it’s an obvious flaw in his work. But you can’t deny the craft and the influence of his work either.”

“I said no such thing--”

“You implied--”

“I absolutely--”

By the end of the night, they exchange contact information neither had deleted from their phones. Slowly but surely, Veronica is drawn into his life and his friends, dropping bon mots and dragging them to spa days and complaining about her family, her family’s business, her husband—until she leaves them all one crisp winter morning to focus on herself, her business, her friends. They celebrate all weekend, with drinks, brunches, movies, and a trip to the fanciest multi-gender strip club in town.

Betty's life:

Her years at Yale seem happy, filled with friends and, eventually, what seems like a boyfriend, a blonde man who kisses her cheek. The tag on the picture leads him to a guy named Adam, who has picture after picture of Betty on his feed for about a year before they abruptly stop in March of their senior year.

(Not that Jughead checks often, just once or twice.)

After Adam, there’s one woman, Nancy Woods, he thinks, who makes a six month appearance with occasional kisses, but, after that, no one appears who looks like a romantic partner. Still, Jughead’s sure Betty has one and is just keeping them quiet. After all, she’s Betty; who wouldn’t want to date her?

Cheryl makes a few appearances during what must be breaks, often with the twins and just as dramatic always. Cheryl doesn’t have much in the way of pictures of Betty on her feed, mostly just glamorous shots of beautiful women, maple trees, and the yearly tribute to Jason.

But the one constant through all the years is, of all people, Ethel Muggs. She first appears at the beginning of freshman year at Yale, and she is a constant, smiling feature all the way through the present day. How it happens, Jughead doesn’t know, but he’s glad Betty has a friend through it all.

Totes a dream:

Jughead wakes up to the smell of vanilla and soap, to the smell of Betty, and the feeling of someone in his arms who fits into him just right for the first time in seven years. Well, his mind tries to tell him he wakes up, but Jughead knows he must be dreaming. He’s had these dreams before, after all, dreams of Betty and a life together. He should try to wake up, he knows he should, but...he doesn’t want to.

He pulls her closer, buries his nose in her hair; he wants to be closer, as close as he can get. She lets out a little Mmm sound that he remembers from so many early mornings with Betty, and he can’t stop himself from holding her tighter and breathing out, “Betts.”

“Jug?” he hears back, and his heart stops because yes, that’s it, that’s her; her voice is a little deeper than he remembers, but it’s her. His dreams have never been this good at recapturing every little detail of her. No, he normally dreams of memories--playful mornings, exciting investigations, heated nights--but this is different, this is new, quiet and soft and a little sad, but he’s not going to question it.

Wuh-oh, that's real:

Fuck, what does he say? What does he say to this wonderful woman who he let go, who he drifted away from because he was scared?

“I--,” love you, miss you, want you to tell me you weren’t lying in the dream that wasn’t a dream, “--Hi,” he chokes out, instantly berating himself. Seven years of suppressed longing, and that is the best he can do when reuniting with the love of his life?

“Hi,” she returns softly, leaning against her dresser and biting her lip, and, oh, how he wants to free that lip, run his thumb over it gently, only for her to bite him back.

“You,” are still more beautiful than anyone or anything I have ever or will ever see, “look good.”

“You too.”

What is wrong with him? Mere hours ago he was holding her, comforting her, confessing to her, bearing his soul to her, with her, reveling in those early hours of dawn like he had when they were eighteen.

The whole thing is very fragmented, and idk when I'd finish it, but I'm fond of it, very fond of it, especially making Jughead and Betty both bi (it's less obvious in the Jughead snippet I included here, but explicit in another part of the story) because that's important to me. Also, the ANGST, so much angst.

#asks #literarygetaway21 #Riverdale #bughead #fanfiction

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whitexwingedxdoves · 3 years

Text

no one else [request]

Pairing: Negan x Reader Warnings: Angst, Swearing. Possibly fluff at the end? Prompts: “Do you even still love me?”, “OH, you’re jealous!” & “Give me attention.” Summary: Now that his empire was growing, you could feel Negan slipping through your finger tips. A/N: Oh god, im loving the Negan requests im getting, please keep them coming!

You pace your room, every click your heel sends into the concrete causing your anxiety to bubble even more. You were proud of what you built here at Sanctuary by Negan’s side, even more proud to call him your husband. You were treated like a queen there, everything you wanted you had. Today was no different, Negan had his workers waiting on you hand and foot but when you finally pulled away for a little alone time, you stumbled across something you really wish you hadn’t. You watched your husband eye up one of the female workers the way he used to eye you up at your favourite bar back before the outbreak. You couldn’t shake it from your head all day but you knew better than to make a scene in front of the workers. You were better than that. So you waited, for hours it felt like you sent the workers on their way a while ago so you could piece a speech together in your head, ready to tear into him as soon as he opened the door.

When he finally did show up, you were left speechless. He swung the door open and paused at your awkward stature, leaning slightly backwards with his hands still on the door knob. The tension that lingered in the moment could have been cut with a knife. He had a smirk planted on his lips that never seemed to leave, eventually he brushed off the awkward encounter and shut the door behind him, moving swiftly to the sink and pouring himself a glass. You didn’t wait for him to finish refreshing himself before you questioned him about his actions. “I saw you today, with that worker girl!” he could have had your teeth clenched together from the hiss that stained your words. Putting his glass down, he licked his lips cocking his eye brow in your direction, that stupid smirk of his still prominent on his features.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about” he teased, moving in the direction of the bed.

“Don’t bullshit me, Negan!” your words seemed stronger this time around. “I saw the way you looked at her” your words seemed to strike funny with the tall man as he sat down, seemingly giggling at you. “Giving workers attention like that, in front of everyone” you followed up, throwing a disgusted face into the mix of emotions you already displayed. “Give me attention!” you demanded stepping closer to him.

There has been a slow decline in your relationship. The more power he got, the less he seemed interested in you but he’d always show you off regardless of how he acted behind closed doors. You craved his attention so much more now, you needed his validation and did everything you could to get it, hell you even started wearing short black dresses and heels for him, knowing it was his sexual kryptonite. The way he looked at you now in this moment made your stomach turn slightly, You weren't sure if he was about to pounce on you or laugh at your petty, childish actions. “OH, so you’re jealous!” his teasing words sent a dagger into your heart. You scoffed at his remark, shaking your head as if he had pulled it out of thin air. Of course you were jealous!

“Jealous?” you questioned him, taking a few steps closer to him, the rage bubbling over so much it was turning your cheeks slightly red. “I'm your wife” you reminded him, finally standing between his legs, you poked at his chest a little, scowling down at him. It didn’t intimidate him, no quite the opposite. You watched as his tongue pulled in his bottom lip and biting down on it. He was amused at your words, he imagined a scene like this playing out on one of those soap opera’s you use to love so much.

He slowly stood up, causing you to freeze on the spot, you felt the heat radiate off him. He was that close to you. The way he scoffed at you made a small tear appear in your left eye. Was he really just shoving your feelings away that easily? “Do you even still love me?” you whispered into his chest, not daring to look up at the man out of pure embarrassment. You felt his hands on your face suddenly, they felt hungry as he passed them through your hair, gripping onto a large chunk right at the back.

“Of course I do!” he growled at you, only making your knees feel weak, you instantly melted into him, your hands wrapping around his waist before he pressed your lips against his. There was nothing soft about the way he kissed you, it was desperate and hungry and it was everything you had been needing for a while now. “There is no one else, never will be!” he promised, his lips still pressed against yours. You allowed a small sigh of relief to pass before your lips were interlocked with yours again. Finally you felt like his queen again.

#negan request #negan x y/n #negan x reader #negan fanfiction #negan twd #negan #the walking dead fanfiction #negan imagines #negan imagine #negan shorts #the walking dead negan #twd fanfiction #twd x reader

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