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ghostsy · 4 months

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The Other

yandere ! ITADORI YUJI x READER x yandere ! SUKUNA

WARNINGS: yandere, misogyny, nsfw, implied noncon

A/N: A bit different than usual, less story and more imagine, I just had a Thought TM that wouldn't leave me alone.

read at your own discretion.

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What about Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, but it’s 19th century Gothic Yuji and Sukuna obsessing over their cute little lab assistant.

Where Yuji finds himself falling in love with the pretty little thing that turned up one night on his doorstep. How could a gentleman refuse a damsel in distress? She’d had nowhere to go, and a woman on the streets is a woman without dignity. He’d done her a favor taking her in, feeding her, clothing her, teaching her everything he knows. Well, almost everything.

And it’s not that she’s not grateful, no, she’s always eager to please, pretty doe eyes blinking up at him with only the purest intentions of proving her worth.

It’s when that voice in his head that he swears isn’t his starts to talk.

Bend her over and spread her legs.

He’d had years of experience tuning the other inside of him out, and begrudgingly grew used to the snide remarks about the so-called useless pussy on legs. But it’s only when his more ignoble half begins to make suggestions with less than savory intentions that he finds himself wavering. He tries to reason that it isn’t him, not really. He can keep it under control. He always has.

It’s the small things really, how she bites the tip of her pencil in concentration during his lectures, determined to be of some use to him. Pretty lips parted oh so delicately, hugging the tip to her teeth.

Let me out. I want to see that whore mouth painted white with my cum.

Or when she blinks dumbly at him from under butterfly lashes, a sheepish giggle and warmth on her cheeks because something he said went in one ear, through her ditzy little brain, and out the other.

Dumb little thing would sink down and suck our cock dry if we told her it was in the name of science, wouldn’t she?

An involuntary twitch of his fingers sends his heart leaping to his throat.

Why don’t you find out?

He drowns it out until the cover of night shields him, locked inside his chambers before giving an inch to the monster. Stroking his cock to the image of her laid out naked and moaning beneath him, legs spread and welcoming. Where the thought of licking the sweat from the skin of her neck has him hurtling off that cliff, and into the resulting ocean of shame.

Little things build up, he finds, and even with her painfully female brain, she begins to notice something off. Though, he finds himself grateful when it isn’t disgust that meets him, but concern. Oh, bless women and their nurturing sensibilities.

She’ll fuss over him like a true lady, mothering but not smothering. Anything he needs to help soothe those pesky migraines. And he’ll finally realize an acceptable way to indulge in his impure thoughts. He’ll make the street urchin he turned lady his wife.

He ignores the rumbling of low laughter that rattles his brain at the thought, deep enough to shake something important but easily forgotten in his bones.

He’ll make all the appropriate preparations for a courtship, determined to woo her as a man would, as a man should. Dress her up, and take her on a promenade through the finest parts of town, introducing her to the finest people at the finest parties.

But he reasons that was his first mistake. Because when he watches her laugh, all airy and bright, intentionally tempting, entirely too close to that brooding dark-haired duke he liked to call brother, white hot fury spills into his veins. That distant familiar desire, heady in all its glory, bloodlust, is his only warning. And the other, who’d been quiet for quite some time, smugly returns.

A whore is a whore no matter the clothes. You thought she’d choose you?

He’ll down glass after glass of scotch, determined to ignore it, but too focused on the brush of her delicate fingers alongside the Duke’s sleeve. There’s a look in his friend’s eye he’s never quite seen before; it’s soft, warm, and it’s all it takes for him to rush to the water closet and hurl up the contents of his stomach.

Pathetic. A man doesn’t wait to be chosen. A man takes what’s his. There’s only one between us. Let me out.

A man takes what’s his. It’s a thought that settles too comfortably in his mind, and he resolves to keep her close. No more outings with those snobbish lords and ladies. Just to save her the embarrassment of exposing the unrefined nature of her peasant birth any more than she already had.

It’ll work for a time, but it’s just a little while later that his brother turned traitor starts turning up on the manor’s doorstep with his own intentions of courtship. Excuses of their preoccupation with scientific breakthroughs and studies only keep him at bay for so long.

I’ll do what you can’t. Let me out.

He begins to wonder whether the beast had been wrong when he catches her wistful stares out the window, too conspicuously asking about the wellbeing of a man that isn’t him. A whore is a whore. When she comes back from town with the excuse of restocking food or supplies, why does she take longer and longer to return each time?

Let Me Out.

He’ll question why it isn’t enough. Why he isn’t enough. He isn’t, not if her attention still turned elsewhere. There’s a beating at the door of his mind that threatens to split at any moment. Finally, mercifully, she’ll relieve the struggle with two words.

He proposed.

He proposed. He proposed. He proposed. He doesn’t hear anything after that, not as she sputters out empty placations and gratitude. Not when she solidifies her intentions of leaving him.

He just responds in kind with two earth-shattering words of his own.

Come out.

#yandere jjk #yandere itadori #yandere sukuna #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere itadori x reader #yandere sukuna x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #i wrote this today so if there's grammar mistakes no there's not

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honeytonedhottie · 3 months

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a post on persistence⋆.ೃ࿔*:･💝

im super happy and excited to announce that this post is a collab with the AMAZINGG @pinkpigtailsprincess. we wanted to collab on this post and talk about PERSISTENCE in manifesting and how crucial it is when ur manifesting things.

HOW TO PERSIST ; persisting simply means reminding urself that u already have whatever it is that u want. when u persist, you decide what it is that u want and you STICK to it.

the oxford definition of persistence simply means to continue in an opinion or course of action in spite of difficulty or opposition.

your 3d literally has no choice but to catch up and reflect the new thoughts that ur thinking in ur 4d so just KEEP GOING. if ur gonna whine or complain every step of the way and think thoughts like "persisting is hard" or "theres lots of resistance/difficulty with manifesting" then thats what ur going to experience.

manifesting is easy, effortless, and instant. when u catch urself thinking thoughts that perpetuate the old story, remind urself that no matter what, whatever u persist in will harden into reality simply because it HAS to. stop getting in your own way!!

LIMITLESS > IMAGINATION ;

limitless definition; possesing power of an immeasurable rate a perfect way to describe your power your literally the god of your reality and you know you might think thats silly or “delusional” its so true though like ever since birth people are conditioned to believe that being negative is the more “logical” and “realistic” way to think than positive which is such a stupid revelation because all throughout life you meant to believe that you have to bring yourself down to earth about achieving something and that you’ll never have “” but that makes no sense seeing all of the extraordinary achievements that humans have done like

build rockets and do rocket science

walk on the moon

build the great wall of china

and so many others including the human body its self your cells in your body healing and protecting wounds and your organs being able to stay in the designated spot no matter what and you think “logic” actually matters?

everything in the human mind is projected i mean everything you use on a daily basis started off in the mind it all stems from imagination

DECISIONS ⭐️ ;

deciding is the final decision and the final outcome no matter what no questions asked like if you went too a sushi restaurant and ordered and decided that you want a shrimp tempura roll you will have the shrimp tempura roll no matter what concepts “if the concept of something can exist then that can be achieved no matter what”

literally something i think about alot and a direct quote from yours truly like most people do think that you can have something because its quote “unrealistic” or it “doesn’t exist” but if that were really the case than why is the concept of it allowed to prosper like if those things really didn’t exist then the concept of billionaires or superpowers and superheroes wouldn’t exist or even time travel everything single one of those things are a product of imagination!!!

YOUR THE ONLY POWER ;

alot of the times on loablr you see people say “you’re the only power” and “you don’t even need that method just imagination and that honestly just so real because if you really think about all of these methods ie: 48 hour challenge, 10k affirmations method etc.

and the void state those things also stemmed from that person’s imagination when you use those methods or use subliminals all your doing is giving it a smidge of your power the method is only powerful because your giving it that power in conclusion you and your imagination are the only things that matter !!

#COLLAB🍰✨#law of assumption #self concept #becoming that girl #it girl #self love #self care #that girl #it girl energy #honeytonedhottie⭐️#manifesting #manifestation #manifesting tips #lawofassumption #neville goddard #advice #manifest #affirm and persist #persistence

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backtothefanfiction · 8 months

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Professor Peter Parker

Summary: The first day of college nerves are suddenly made worse when you realised the guy you f*cked last night is your new Physics Professor!

Warnings! 18+ ONLY! This is some of the filthiest smut I have ever written and posted on here yet. Female reader and pronouns, Age gap (everyone is of legal age, Peter is a very young Professor), Oral (F + M Receiving), Dirty Talk (so much fucking dirty talk), praise kink, edging, P in V, Peter Parker (YES he does need his own warning), One Night Stand... or is it?, ITS SEX PEOPLE, JUST STRAIGHT UP SEX WITH A LITTLE PLOT FOR ADDED TENSION AND POW!

Word Count: 4.9k+

A/N: Consider this my formal application piece for the literary prostitutes society. There are no words for this, so I'm just gonna type/sing Don't Lose Your Head from Six. "Sorry not sorry but what I said, I'm just tryin' to have some fun..." But seriously though this was so self indulgent and I can't believe this came out of me. It's very much giving Aria and Ezra in Pretty Little Liars but older and much more Peter Parker. Also I am really sorry about if the tense keeps changing, I sometimes have a problem with finding my rhythm and I really cba to spend the time working it all out and changing it.

First day of college. Standard level of nerves for a first day. Are you running on just a couple hours of sleep? Sure. Still a little tipsy from last night? Okay, yeah, maybe just a little, but that’s a good thing right. Takes the edge off. But then again numbers and science had never let you down before. You can do physics. You’ve got this.

You took a deep breath, hand hesitating on the door handle. ‘This is the first day of the rest of your life.’ You said to yourself, breathing deeply.

You found a spot somewhere in the middle of the room. Not so eager you were at the front but you also didn’t want to hide away in the back. That and you were pretty sure you were due for an eye test and if you sat any further back you wouldn’t be able to read the board. You got out your notepad, flipping open to the first page, your fingers smoothing across the fresh paper comfortingly. You reach for a fresh pencil from the novelty pack your Mom had bought you especially for your first week, knowing you prefer the feel of writing in pencil than pen, the ink always getting smudged on your hand from your messy scrawl. You pluck the one with tiny zebra all over it from the clear case before placing it back in your bag. Your fingers drum the back of the pencil on your page nervously as you wait. You tried not to overthink things as your stomach began to churn. Had you really turned up this early? You took a quick look around the room at the other 5 people who had actually been there before you. ‘Hey,’ you reasoned to yourself, ‘at least you weren’t as early as them.’

You yawned. Damn you were tired. Although you had this early class, when your new room mate suggested you go out with the guys who lived across the hall you couldn’t say no. To be fair, it had been a good night all considered. You had met some new people, exchanged a few numbers, agreed to go to the end of semester drama club performance even though the term had only just started, drank way too many jello shots, got snuck into a local bar and then ended up going home with a tall brunette with the softest yet devious brown eyes you had ever seen who completely rocked your world.

You absentmindedly rubbed your thighs together, squirming slightly in your seat as you thought back to his head between your legs. The lewd moans he’d pulled from your lips echoing around your brain. It sent a fresh new wave of arousal straight to your core.

‘Not the time or place.’ you berated, instead forcing your mind back into the classroom and the task at hand. ‘Physics of Matter with Professor Peter Parker. He was probably middle aged’ you thought to yourself. It was always the case with classes like these, middle aged men finally leaving the lab for the first time after finally completing their life's work, now relenting to their wife’s begging to spend more time with the family. Or older men with white hair, wrinkles and tweed, desperately holding on to their independence, understimulated by the idea of retired life when all that knowledge of matter and the universe was rattling around their brains. ‘Young hot professors were only to be found in the movies or on TV’ you daydreamed as you tried to distract yourself from the growing pit of nerves in your stomach.

You check your phone every few seconds as other students file into the room, finding their own seats as you count down the minutes. 5 minutes… 3 minutes… 2 minutes… 1 minute… … He’s late… 1 minute past… 2 minutes past… 3 min-

“Okay, okay, settle down!” A voice called out as the classroom door opened, far younger than she expected and slightly familiar. “Welcome to Physics of Matter,” the voice continued as he made his way towards the board, picking up a bit of chalk and lifting it to the board as he spoke, “I am Professor Parker, but please,” he said dropping the piece of chalk back onto the little shelf at the bottom of the board, “call me Peter.” He said finally turning around.

SHIT!

DOUBLE SHIT!

You dip your head towards your page as you sink a little bit down in your seat. Hopefully he won’t notice. ‘FUCK!’ your head was suddenly screaming as all those memories of the night before flooded your brain again. His messy hair. His naked body. The way he had moaned into your cunt- FUCK!

You subtly glanced around the room from your head's dipped position. This had to be some new prank show right. There’s no way this happened in real life. There had to be cameras. He’s an actor right? Ashton Kutcher was about to burst through the classroom door shouting “YOU’VE BEEN PUNK’D” any second followed by the actual Professor Parker, right? Right?

“Now I’m not gonna ask you to get your books out this lesson,” he began to say playfully, his voice carrying around the room as he walked back and forth in front of his desk surveying his new class. “Today is about you getting to know me and me just going over all the things we are gonna be covering over the course of our year together.” He said, talking a lot with his hands. “As much as I’d love to start getting into equations with you, I’ve learnt that that tends to be futile during our first lessons. I mean, just by a show of hands, who went out drinking last night?” Professor Parker asked and a shower of hands across the room went up, Peter’s gaze scanning across the faces of the raised hands as he continued, “Keep your hand up if you’re still a little bit drunk-” his voice cut off as his eyes finally landed on you, his own oh shit face befalling him.

You felt your skin crawl as people lowered their hands and began following his gaze to you. You moved your hand up to your face as you sank down in your seat further. ‘Stop staring. Stop staring. Stop staring!’

8 HOURS EARLIER

“I couldn’t help but see you staring.” He said as he sidled up to you. ‘Holy fuck’ he was gorgeous. Tall, lean, perfectly messy brown hair and the most delicious biceps (not too big) that were flexing under the cuffs of his fitted T-shirt you really just wanted to wrap your fingers around and squeeze. Damn. “Is she okay?” He said turning to your friend.

“Yeah she’s just-“ your roommate started before nudging you and breaking you from your hypnotised gaze on this absolute Adonis of a man. “She thinks you’re really hot!” she shouted over the music to him.”

He raised his eyebrows as he gave a small chuckle, flattered, as you cringed. They both laughed at you. “Do you wanna dance?” he asked as he took your hand.

“Yes, she does!” your friend said, pushing you off your stool. His other hand comes out to steady you as you almost slam into his chest. You blush before turning to give your roommate a death stare.

He flashed one of those charming smiles again before he began to guide you away from her and to the dance floor. His hand doesn’t leave yours as he starts to bop and bounce, easing you both into the music. You slowly relax, smiling as a giddy feeling churns in your stomach, as you begin to bop with him to the music.

The music swells and he gives you a twirl under his arm before he pulls you closer to him. “So have you got a name or am I supposed to refer to you as flower for the rest of the night?”

You frown. “Why Flower?”

“Isn’t that the name of the skunk in Bambi who is all quiet and has those big eyes and blushing cheeks and-”

“Don’t call me Flower.” you quickly say, slightly embarrassed by the way you had gone all goo goo eyed and helpless over him.

“Okay, then what can I call you?”

You hesitate for a second as you think about giving him your real name but what would be the fun in that, especially if this only turned out to be a one night stand. “Trouble.”

He laughs, his head dipping to hide his amusement. “Is that so?” he says from beneath his lashes. “Fine, if that’s how we’re playing it, you can call me Professor Brat Tamer, Professor for short.”

You feel your arousal soak your panties the moment he says it, the words going straight to your core. What have you gotten yourself in for? It’s like he knows too from the way he’s smirking. He turns you, pulling you back into him, his hands resting on your hips as he begins to grind himself against your ass. “Now, are you gonna be a good student?” he coos against your ear only loud enough for you to hear. “Or are you gonna be like your namesake says and cause me a whole lot of trouble?”

He can feel the way you relax your body back against him, your eyes closing as you relish in the feeling his words elicit in you.

You smirk as you look back at him, “I’m sorry Professor, but you may have your work cut out for you.”

An hour and a half later he’s pulling you into his apartment, your back slamming hard against a wall of exposed brick as your mouth latches onto his. Both of you had done so well keeping your hands to yourself the whole way back, but the moment you got through the door it was like a starting pistol had gone off, both of you suddenly in a race for pleasure.

You moan against his mouth as his tongue slips between your teeth. You can taste his final Jack and Coke he had had before you left. Your skin felt like it was burning under his touch.

“Fuck.” You gasp as his mouth is suddenly moving across your jaw and down your neck, his teeth and stubble grazing you slightly in his hunger for you.

“God Trouble, you sound so fucking pretty.” he coos against your chest, his hand moving to paw at your breast, bunching it up to spill over the top of your dress as he leaves wet kisses across the skin.

Your fingers wrap around his messy tresses as you pull his head back up so you can connect your mouth with his again, a small growl escaping his lips at the slight pain. You kiss him messily, both of you breathing heavily before you push him back, allowing you room to drop to your knees on the hardwood floor. Your fingers immediately begin to fight with his belt buckle, the sound of the metal clinking sending arousal straight between your own legs.

“Fuck.” He pants as he looks down at you, his hand reaching to cradle either side of your face as you pull down his jeans and his boxers in one swift pull. “Uh, baby, baby, baby.” he coos as you take his length into your mouth and immediately begin to work your tongue up and down his cock.

His fingers move away from your face, grabbing at the hem of his t-shirt and you watch as he pulls it up and over his head, exposing the rest of his body to you. Fuck he really was gorgeous. “Oh my god.” he cried out when you began to swallow his length down your throat, your nose pressing to his pelvic bone. “Uh,” he said, his head tipping back, “she’s not trouble, she’s fucking perfect.” he says as he drops his head back forward to watch you, his thumb reaching to wipe away a stray tear at the corner of your eye.

You take his length out of your mouth as you gasp for air and he thinks it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever heard. “Come here Trouble.” he says as he takes your face and chin in his hands and lifts you from the floor, pulling your lips back to his as he smashes his mouth into yours.

He begins to kick off his shoes as well as his jeans and boxers that now sit tangled around his ankles as he continues to kiss you, freeing himself so he can lift you up into his arms, your own arms throwing themselves around his neck, as he carries you to his bedroom.

You can’t help but cheekily bite at his lower lip as he stops just before the foot of the bed. “Oh she has some bite does she?” he says against your mouth. Your teeth almost clash together from how close you are as you grin, waiting to see what he’ll do or say next. “Okay,” he says as he pauses a little for dramatic effect, “I can bite back.” he says before throwing you back on the bed.

You let out a small squeal as you're caught by the mattress springs and pillows. You quickly prop yourself up on your elbows so you can see the devilish look on his face as he pulls off your heels before he stalks up the bed towards you. He leans over you, attaching his lips to yours once more, his tongue sliding deftly into your mouth and out again with every kiss until his last, when he uses it to suck your lower lip between his teeth, pulling on it. He releases it just as you’re beginning to feel it bruise, his lips instead attaching to your throat as his hands come up to pull down the top of your dress. He had already clocked that you were sans bra from how low the back of your dress was and is even more grateful now he can immediately latch himself onto your nipples, his tongue lapping at the small sensitive nibs, one and then the other.

You moan under his touch, your eyes falling closed as your head tips back, fingers gripping tightly at the covers beneath you. When he looks up at you, keening under his touch, he thinks it's the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “Look at me baby.” he softly commands and you oblige, your chin pressing to your chest as you gaze straight into those big brown eyes. It’s the sexiest eye contact you’ve ever held. It’s like he’s fucking you with his eyes as his fingers begin to snake their way up your thighs, lifting the bottom of your dress up to your hips so he can pull down your underwear. He takes one feel of them before saying, “Fuck, trouble, these are soaked.”

You can only nod in agreement, as all words seem to have left your brain. ‘Fuck, he’s so fucking hot’ you think, as he kisses his way down your middle, over your dress until he reaches the hem where he can start kissing at your skin. You sigh, your head falling back again at the sensation of his lips kissing across your hips and then down your thighs.

His fingers spread your legs and he gives a small nip to the inside of your thigh and you gasp at the small feeling of pain, that quickly turns to pleasure, as yet another wave of arousal floods between your legs.

“Fuck, baby, you’re dripping.” he says as his finger scoops up the arousal thats begining to drip down your thighs, bringing it up to his mouth. You watch hypnotised as he sucks on his fingers. “Damn, trouble, you tast so fucking good.” he says as he slips his fingers from his mouth. It’s so filthy. He has barely done anything and you’re a fucking goner.

His tongue suddenly crashes between your folds. “FUCK!” you cry out loudly. His fingers trace over your thighs, reaching for your own fingers which you entwine with his. He’s got his eyes closed, savouring every moan, every little gasp he pulls from you.

He can tell you’re getting close from how your cunt begins to grind itself down against his tongue, chasing you’re high, but to allow you to have it would be too easy. He listens closely to your breathing, your moans; one… two… he suddenly moves his mouth away and you want to scream. He playfully nips at the inside of your thigh, almost hard enough to bruise. You really do scream now in frustration. “Told you I could bite.” he says coily as he mumbles against your skin.

He licks another stripe through your folds as if in apology, as if to soothe the sting but his tongue flicks at your sensitive clit before he sucks it hard between his lips and you cry out again. “Mmmm.” he hums against your cunt, “you sound so pretty when you scream like that.”

You want to cry, you are so sensitive and overstimulated but suddenly he’s lapping at your pussy again and you’re melting back into the bed as your muscles begin to relax again with the long slow licks of his tongue.

When you both begin to feel the build of your climax again he doesn’t pull away this time. He lets you have it, your thighs closing around his head, hips bucking off the bed as the wave of pleasure crashes over you. He keeps going, his mouth lapping up everything you’ll give him until you're pulling yourself away from him. Tears well in the corners of your eyes from the over stimulation as you pant and whine and rub your thighs together, desperate for the feeling to dissipate. He grabs at your ankles, holding you still as you flop back into the pillows at the top of the bed.

“So good for me Trouble, you’re doing so good.” he says as he crawls up the bed to kiss you.

Although he’s wiped at his mouth, the taste of you still remains and you lick it off every part of his mouth you can reach as he settles himself between your legs.

His hands slide up your thighs before they’re grabbing ahold of your waist and suddenly he’s flipping you, his head crashing into the pillows as you straddle his hips. Your lips race to chase his as you continue to pant breathlessly into his mouth, another flood of arousal soaking between your legs.

His fingers reach for the bottom of your dress, lifting it up and off your head, leaving you finally, completely naked before him. “Fuck, trouble,” he moans as his eyes drink you in, “has anyone told you how absolutely fucking perfect you are.” You giggle and blush as you lean down to kiss him. “No. No. Look at me.” he says as he takes your head in his hands and moves you away from him so you have to look at him. He’s giving you that look with his eyes again as he holds your face in place, not allowing you to break eye contact with him for one single moment as he begins to grind his hips up against you, his rock hard cock grinding against your clit. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp. “So fucking perfect.” he repeats. “Now tell me, trouble, how do you want me to fuck you?” You can’t think, your eyes closing as you try to focus your thoughts as his skin drags across your clit teasingly. He gently taps your cheek with his fingers, forcing you to open your eyes and look at him. “Eyes on me Trouble,” he says, “find your words, tell me how you want me to fuck you.”

You shake your head as you close your eyes again, really unable to think. “Options.” you say breathlessly, your eyes flying open, before he can punish you for breaking eye contact again. “Give me options.”

“Okay.” he concedes with a small nod and a smile. “Okay, pretty girl.” he repeats again soothingly as he pulls you back down closer to him, his lips kissing you sweetly and encouragingly, aware he’s over stimulating your brain. “I can fuck you like this.” he says as he looks into your eyes. His hand slowly trails down to wrap around your throat, his other hand still cradling the back of your head as he flips you again. “Or I can fuck you like this.” he says as he continues to slowly grind himself against your sex. “Or,” he says as he lowers his head down to the crook of your neck, breathing you in deeply as he speaks directly into your ear, “I can flip you over and fuck you from behind.” You sigh as his words go straight to your core again.

“The last one.” you say breathlessly as your eyes close.

“MMM.” he hums into your ear as his teeth nip at your jaw, satisfied with your response. He pushes you back into the bed slightly as he lifts himself onto his knees, his hands moving away from your face and you watch him eagerly as you await his next move. He leans over to the bedside table, reaching into the draw for a condom, lazily tugging at his length with one hand whilst he uses his teeth and the other hand to open it up. You’re almost starring as he’s rolling it down the length of his cock, fully taking in his erect size. He smirks when he looks up to notice you nibbling at your lower lip.

“Come here, trouble.” he says before he’s flipping you over, your head finding a comfortable position on the pillow as he lifts your ass into the air.

He slides his fingers down your opening before placing two fingers slowly inside you, stretching you out and you let out another breathy moan at the feeling. He pumps them in and out of you a couple more times before he slowly lets them slide out of you, his fingertips dragging agonisingly across your clit before he uses them to pump his cock again a couple times, shifting himself into position.

His fingers grip tightly onto your hips as he lines himself up and slowly pushes himself inside you, your back arching with the stretch, head shifting as you let out another moan of satisfaction into the pillow. “Mmm, let me hear you baby.” he says as his hand removes itself from your hip to reach for the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he turns your head back towards him.

“Fuck.” you hiccup as he pulls himself out little by little before he’s slamming his hips forward against your ass, pushing himself in even deeper.

“Fuck, trouble. So fucking tight for me.”

You lose all ability to speak as he begins fucking into you, slowly building his pace until he’s fucking into you at a wicked speed. You want to scream again, your face screwing up in ecstasy as his cock continuously hits that spot inside you that makes you want to explode. His other hand reaches around for your throat, pulling you back up as he leans over you so he can stick his tongue back into your mouth. It adjusts his angle somehow, making the feeling in your cunt even more intense. Your mouth falls open as he holds it there, you’re panting and moaning into his mouth. “Look at me.” he encourages as his thumb rubs soothingly across your jaw. You can’t help but obliged.

It’s too much. It’s the hottest, most filthiest sex you’ve ever had. You know you’ll never be the same again. Nothing, no one, will ever compare to this. “Please, please, please.” you find yourself repeating as your eyes close again. You’re so close and he knows it because your cunt is constricting like a vice around his cock.

He moves his hand down to circle at your clit between your legs. “Come on, trouble, give it to me,” he coaches, “Fuck, baby!” he snarls against your mouth as he smashes his lips to yours again, pulling at your lips bruisingly.

You pull your mouth away from him, wailing, gasping for breath as your body convulses around him, his pace only slowing slightly to help you ride out your climax. “So good.” he coos, “My trouble, so fucking good for me. Atta girl.”

His pace is steady as he feels you begin to relax again but you’re still so stimulated. You’re surprised he’s still going. “Your turn.” you say to him breathlessly and he smiles. When he doesn’t say anything you decide to push your luck. “How do you want to fuck me?” you coo, now you’re the one who’s eye fucking him.

You watch as he closes his eyes, head falling back. He chuckles then, something low and devious. He suddenly pulls out of you. It makes you feel so empty. You’re about to whine but then he’s flipping you over and pulling your legs together and then over his shoulder as he bends you in half. He lines himself back up with your entrance and slips back in with ease and you gasp as he bottoms out, the position making him hit that devastating spot inside you instantly. He leans all the way over so he can kiss you, his mouth swallowing every moan, gasp and breath that leaves your mouth as he pounds down into you like something fierce.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” you whine as the sensitivity grows too much. His pelvis is slamming against your clit with every thrust. Now you really are crying, your eyes rolling back in your head as you feel yourself clamping down on his cock again.

“Oh my god, baby.” he says. “You’re so fucking wet. So fucking good. Such a good fucking girl.”

It’s a guttural wail you let loose into the room as you cum and his head dips down as he buries himself in the crook of your neck, his thrusts growing even faster as he chases his high. “Stay with me, Trouble,” he says, trying to ground you. He lifts his head, hand reaching for your face, forcing you to look at him. “Just a little bit longer, baby, just a little bit-” but he can’t finish his words. He’s so fucking close. One pump, two- he suddenly stills as he buries himself inside you, his forehead pressing into yours grounding you both as he pumps his seed into the condom inside you. You whine at the feeling of his cock pulsating against the still extremely sensitive spot inside you.

“You did so good.” His voice reassures as he strokes soothingly across your cheek forcing you to look at him as you breathe deeply and heavily in your come down. “So fucking good.” he says as he kisses your forehead before slipping out of you.

With his body no longer crowding you you fully relax back into his sheets, your eyes closing as you try to regulate. You think you might even pass out. You think you may even have blacked out for a second, but you know you haven’t as your eyes fly open and your body jumps at the feeling of a cool damp cloth between your legs.

He watches you content as you suddenly relax once more, the cool washcloth doing wonders to soothe the hot swollen feeling between your legs as he cleans you up. You definitely black out then, completely exhausted.

You are disturbed again a few minutes later, a soft reassuring hand brushing up your legs. “Here.” his voice says softly as he sits on the side of the bed next to you, waiting for you to open your eyes and look at him so he can pass you a glass of water.

The cold liquid does wonders to help regulate your temperature and you can’t help but stare at him again in wonder as he sits before you in a pair of flannel pyjama bottoms. He leans over you, kissing the top of your head, breaking you from your sex induced stupor.

“You can stay if you want.” You nod your head, you have no energy to move yet.

“Okay.” he says with a soft smile as he takes the now mostly empty glass from your fingers. “I’m gonna go get you another one of these,” he says motioning to the glass now in his hands, “you go to the toilet, there’s a spare toothbrush under the sink, get yourself ready for bed and when you get back we can cuddle.”

You still have no words, just dociley nod and agree. You wobble slightly as you try to stand, blood rushing back to your limbs and his hand reaches out to steady you. “I’ve got it, I’ve got it.” You say as you sway slightly and wave him away.

He just chuckles. “Whatever you say, trouble.”

You crawl into bed beside him 5 minutes later, tucking yourself into his side as his arm wraps around you. “You really are Professor Brat Tamer huh?” you joke as you nestle into his bare chest.

“And don’t you know it.” he smiles, pulling you tighter into his side so he can place a kiss to the top of your head.

You wake just after 6am, sneaking from his bed with a smile on your face as you pick up your clothes before doing the walk of shame back to your student halls. The sun is just coming up and the leaves are just starting to change, you can still feel the alcohol in your system as well as the after effects of your orgasms and you know, although you’re tired, today is gonna be a great first day… or was it?

________________________-

@tarzinnia @withahappyrefrain @xenasolos @sincericida

Is this a one off? I don't know. Is there a lot of room for this to turn into a collection of shorts... yeah, maybe.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #andrew!peter parker #professor!Peter Parker x reader #andrew!peter x reader #Andrew Peter imagine #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker #Peter Parker smut #professor!au #spiderman #tasm peter parker imagine #tasm!peter #andrew garfield peter parker #reader insert #smut #this is so self indulgent #Peter Parker x female reader

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dyns33 · 3 months

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Firefly

I can't explain why but I like The Collector movies a lot, Asa Emory was a weird character, and so I needed to write something about him at least once

Y/N had met Asa Emory in college.

He already had this strange look and this fascination for insects, which explained his choice of studies. She had never met anyone who wanted to become an entomologist.

The other students were a little afraid of him, when they noticed him, because Asa was very discreet.

Y/N had noticed him, and she hadn’t been afraid of him. She had sat next to him in the library while he read a book about spiders. Her questions had initially seemed to irritate him, he was obviously not used to being spoken to, then he had been intrigued.

For a time, Asa had looked at her as if she were one of the insects he collected, but also as if she were trying to make fun of him. Yet he answered all her questions, adding more and more details and information.

He had no one in his life. No one to share your passion with. He didn't tell her all the details, but he had lost his parents and siblings when he was young.

This loneliness didn't seem to be a problem for him, but over time he got used to Y/N's presence, he looked forward to her questions, and he eventually grew attached.

“My firefly.” He greeted her as soon as he saw her, with a shy smile.

“Why a firefly ?” she asked, laughing softly.

“Because you are a light in my life.”

Y/N might have taken offense saying that a firefly was a tiny, fragile light that would die quickly, but knowing Asa's love of insects, she knew he wasn't going to compare her to a sun or stars. It was even a nice compliment on his part that he deigned to compare her to a Lampyris noctiluca.

Even when insulting people, he never used insect names. That would be an insult to the insects and he couldn't do that.

As with everything else in their relationship, it was Y/N who invited him on their first date. He accepted without seeming to understand what that meant.

The poor man seemed lost when she kissed him. But not necessarily disgusted.

“My firefly, you are the only human being who matters.” he admitted when she asked him if he ever thought about marriage, after more than two years together. "There are only a few insects that practice monogamy, but most die quickly, sometimes during the act of reproduction. But you know how much I hate anthropomorphism. I will be happy to spend my life with you."

Life with Asa was calm. Perfectly organized, structured, like its classification of all arthropod species.

After obtaining his diploma, he had no difficulty in being hired in the largest natural science museum in the city. His name quickly became known in his field.

His frequent nighttime outings and other prolonged outings could have been frightening for Y/N, but he always warned her in advance, preparing his schedule according to the pace of life of the insects he was looking for.

"Rumors are circulating about an unknown species of grasshoppers in a forest. I will probably be gone all weekend."

"Oh. You won't be here for my cousin's birthday ?"

"I forgot. Forgive me, my firefly."

“It doesn’t matter… It’s for your work, it’s important.”

He promised to better note the dates that were important to her, because even though he was very diligent in his work, Asa was a good husband. He didn't care at all about other humans, and therefore her family, but he always tried to please her when he could.

Even though he had a true admiration for spiders, Y/N saw him more as an ant. He worked hard, he never seemed tired, and he often brought home gifts to make up for when he missed an appointment, or simply because he wanted to see her smile.

"Ants don't bring back gifts for the queen, they do this to feed the colony. Plus they work in groups, I work alone."

“I didn’t compare myself to a queen.”

"You could, it was you who worked to create our home. There is no colony without a queen, and there would not be our home without you."

Their house was perfect, but empty. They didn't talk about having children. The subject didn't seem to appeal to Asa. After all this time, he did not talk about his family, visibly traumatized by their disappearance, and his aversion to others, in addition to his complicated schedule, were not compatible with the role of father.

There were his dogs. Perfectly trained hunting dogs, who were only adorable with their master and his wife. But especially with Y/N, who loved to cuddle them.

“My firefly, they have already eaten and they are not allowed to be inside.”

"Oh, Asa, please ! It's cold outside, and they were very good !"

“You mustn’t get them used to it or they will become fat and lazy.”

“Only for tonight, please !”

His colleagues said he was tough. A cold, distant, almost mean man. It was quickly decided that he would no longer participate in school visits, because he did not know how to talk to children or teachers.

But with Y/N, he was gentle. He refused her nothing. The dogs stayed inside, and not just that evening.

The times Asa told her no, it wasn't his fault. The excuses he found always contained the words 'I would like to, but the museum, my colleagues, the insects…'.

No, she couldn't accompany him on his hunts. She wouldn't like it anyway. It was cold, there was almost no time to sleep, and she might be bored.

“I’ll be with you, that’s the most important thing.”

".. .It's always a joy to be with you. That's also why it's better if you don't come. Then I have a reason to come home."

And he always came home, tired, but satisfied with his work, placing a kiss on Y/N's forehead like a ritual, before caressing her cheek while looking at her as if seeing her for the first time, his eyes wide blacks seeming to devour her entirely.

Then came the night when he came home late, very late, with strange injuries and terribly angry. Growling like an animal, he slammed the door so hard that it woke his wife. She found him trying to stitch himself up, mumbling and shaking.

She had never seen him like this. Asa was always calm.

Hesitantly, Y/N asked him if he was okay, and when he looked at her, she was scared for the first time since they met. For a moment, he looked like he didn't recognize her, and was ready to jump on her. Then he took on the features of her husband.

"… My firefly." he sighed, getting up with difficulty to kiss her. "I woke you up. I scared you. Forgive me. There was an incident. I lost several very precious, unique species. But it's my fault, you don't have to suffer my bad mood."

“Shouldn’t you go to the hospital ?”

"It's okay, I promise. Scratches, nothing I can't fix myself. Go back to bed, I'll be with you right away."

Nothing forced her to obey. Y/N could have insisted, asked questions, called an ambulance, but she returned to the room, staring at the wall unable to sleep. She didn't move when Asa came to her, holding her close, his face against her neck, whispering that he loved her.

They talked about the incident in the neighboring town the next day on television. An abandoned factory was ravaged by flames. But that wasn't the worst. It was the lair of a serial killer, whom they called the Collector.

The survivors spoke of horrible things. Of torture, of strange experiences. According to police, the man had died in the fire along with his guard dogs and most of the evidence there was nothing left to fear.

Y/N didn’t ask Asa where the dogs were. She tried not to think about it.

If he was waiting for her to ask him about it, he didn't show it. He didn't talk about what happened during the night, behaving as if everything was perfectly fine, and going to work like every day. He would come home, he would kiss her, and he would do it again. The difference was only that he went out less often.

According to him, the season was not good for hunting. And with the problem at his office, he needed a little time, to rest, to repair the place.

This excuse could have worked forever. Of course, Y/N could have called the museum and they would have confirmed that there had never been any serious incidents, but she didn't want to. She continued to lie next to her husband, letting him embrace her tenderly.

Then there was the man's visit. He seemed surprised to see Y/N, as he placed a large red trunk in the kitchen. Almost sad too. He was holding a gun.

"I imagine you don't know anything about it. I can let you go, if you promise not to warn him, and to let me do what I have to do."

"… I don't understand what to talk to you about."

"Your dear husband. The man who kidnapped and tortured me for weeks. You're lucky you didn't see his little collection. He's a monster. He needs to die."

No doubt the man was right. There had always been something strange about Asa, everyone had always known it and Y/N had been the only one to refuse to see it. She had built her life with him, her home. They had to share everything.

So even if he was right, she without thinking grabbed a knife when he turned, convinced that she had understood and she stuck it in his back, at the level of his heart.

When she realized what she had just done, it was too late. The man was lying in his blood in the middle of the room, his gun fallen next to him. Y/N touched nothing, unable to do anything but cry while trying to remember how to breathe.

Asa found her like this, sitting against a wall, when he returned from the office. He looked at his wife, then at the scene in the kitchen, before putting his things down to crouch down next to her.

Like every times, he held her face so that she could look at him and he could kiss her on the forehead. Then with one hand he wiped the blood from her cheek, massaging her neck with the other to calm her down.

"Tell me what happened. Are you hurt, my firefly ?"

"No… He… He wanted to kill you. He said… Oh, my god. He had a gun, I… I was scared… He said you… Asa …"

"Shh. I'll take care of everything. Come on."

Holding her close, he took her to the bathroom where he helped her undress and get into the shower, which he adjusted so that the water was perfect. Taking a bath would have done her good, but he had to leave her alone to clean up, and he didn't want her to fall asleep.

"I'll be back, my firefly. Just sit here, it's okay."

Y/N didn't know how long she stayed under the water, shaking and crying. Not as long as she thought. Her husband quickly returned to help her get up, dry off and put on pajamas.

Although she was not hungry, he insisted that she have tea and biscuits, as it was not good to keep an empty stomach after such a shock, before putting her to bed. He certainly put something in the tea for her to sleep.

The kitchen was immaculate the next morning, as if nothing had happened. The man, the weapon, the red trunk, everything had disappeared.

Unusually, Asa had prepared breakfast. He was always up before her, but he only had coffee, and he often left for work while she was still asleep, coming to place a kiss on her forehead to warn her.

His dark eyes didn't leave her for a second as Y/N chewed her pancakes with difficulty, one hand on the glass of orange juice that she couldn't drink. She looked everywhere except her husband.

Before the intruder spoke, she had already started to have doubts. Questions. Now everything was quite clear, and all that remained was to decide what she was going to do. Asa was also obviously waiting, sitting near her.

The options were vast. Run away, call the police, risk getting killed… Y/N finally managed to lift the glass of orange juice, while thinking of their meeting.

"… Aren't you going to be late for work ?"

"No. I took some time off to stay with you."

“But your collection… I understood that it would take a long time to rebuild everything.”

"It's not as important as you, my firefly. My mantis religiosa. My black widow." he purred, running a hand through her hair, his lips on her neck.

Asa loved spiders. It was a nice compliment, even if she received it because she had killed a man and agreed not to report him to the authorities. He didn't seem to notice her fear, one of the reasons she remained silent.

Only the other reason mattered. And by giving her all these names, like a transformation, he was telling her that he would not harm her, that he did not see her as prey, and that even if she decided to do so, she could devour him.

#the collector #the collection #asa emory #asa emory x reader #asa emory fanfiction #slashers

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canmom · 6 months

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Exordia - advance review

So. I finished the book!

This is not everything I will write about Exordia. That will come when the book is like, officially out, and I feel comfy spelling out the ending and quoting passages at length.

This 'advance review' is split into two parts. The first part is quite abstract, so I'll copy it here.

If Baru took an elliptical path towards its subject matter, by defamiliarising and rearranging the material of history… Exordia just gets straight in there.

How to describe Exordia? Maybe you could call it philosophy-driven science fiction, a thought experiment about ethics. Maybe you could compare it to Arrival, but shot up with black humour (it’s a book that could make me laugh and cry, sometimes at the same time) and real tragedy (at the core is the genocide of the Kurds in the late 80s, and the many betrayals and failures of American imperialism). It’s got a lot of action and military details, with a good few spies and soldiers as central characters, but broadly it’s one of the sharpest eviscerations of the US military and its role in the world I’ve encountered in Western science fiction.

The first two thirds or so lay out the driving, fascinating ‘what the hell is this thing’ mystery lined with all manner of juicy body horror and drama—yet the core high-concept premise is laid out almost immediately, you know what's at stake. The last third… escalates.

It’s full of the usual meaty Seth themes, iterating on the ideas first laid out in Baru. But it’s a distinct flavour of its own. That escalation is… well, I can’t describe in detail, not while the book isn’t even out, but it’s nuts. Not just for the scale, but for how convincingly it sells concepts that if I described them straightforwardly would sound completely ridiculous.

Equally, it’s a study of a markedly diverse group of characters thrown together from all over the world, each constructed with very evident care and nuance. It goes places that so many writers would probably feel ‘damn, that’s probably way too thorny for someone like me to write about’—and yet somehow, it manages to handle it gracefully each time. Certainly, you can perhaps inevitably tell when Seth is writing from direct experience and when they are (as they used to say back in the ’10s) Writing The Other, if only through what they assume you know and what they need to explain as much as everything—and yet there are always all these telling details (the scientist cursing out R) that make these characters come alive with convincing presence and humour.

(Of course the autistic-ass lesbians are my faves. It’s not as overtly a Lesbian Book as Baru was, but there’s a strong current of gay shit.)

A few other reviewers mention Crichton, but I haven’t read Crichton, so… I’ll have to make other comparisons. But then the thing is it’s very self-aware about existing in the fabric of science fiction. This book is set in our world, not in the near future but the recent past, in the late Obama administration. A lot of the things you might compare it to (including a couple I’ve mentioned, Arrival, Crichton) will be invoked as explicit, in-character allusions as these very sharp, funny, modern people try to make sense of their crazy situation. Sometimes it feels like Tamsyn’s use of memes as texture, but it never gets overbearing. The rhythms of Seth’s prose have been refined by Baru into a powerful suite of devices to make you cackle and go, noooo, Seetttthhhhh…

It’s a fascinating blend of hard-ish scifi, with the big ideas carried by surprisingly accurate higher-mathematical technobabble, and what you could probably best call occultism: narrative and ethics and gods and mythology. Seth always tends to deflect when praised for their ability to hop between a dozen different disciplines and pull them together into one unifying story, saying that they’re just good at looking up summaries, or that they had help from the right people. Maybe so, but it works, it passes the smell test, and Seth’s real genius is their remarkable ability to tie all these big grand ideas back into the world of character and emotion.

Since this is an advance review… I gotta be careful how much I say! Usually I assume you’ve read it if you’re going to and dive straight into the spoilers and long quotes, but here I feel like I should take a little care to avoid describing too precisely the exact beats of the story. (Rest assured I will give it the thorough treatment when it comes out in full).

But, I feel like I want to say something a little more substantial. So here’s a description of the mechanism. If all you want to know is whether you should read this book, hopefully I’ve given you plenty of reasons that the answer is god, yes, do it. If you want to know more, read on.

#baru cormorant #exordia #fiction #sff #seth dickinson #advance review

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theboarsbride · 1 month

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bro I love clowning on BookTok and how silly stupid BookTok books and trends and tropes are, but I am sick and tired of this 'all BookTok is is porn' discourse.

Like it just reminds me of Twilight discourse, and it stinks of misogyny. Just let people read what they want??? It's not that hard to find a book YOU want to read and look the other way? It's not that hard to engage with BookTok content that can cater your FYP to YOUR book tastes? Also just stop demonizing porn/sex work and those that use those services? Because unless it's depicting something genuinely harmful/hateful/etc. then what does it matter? BookTok critics need to give readers more credit, tbh, because more often than not I feel like adults can differentiate what is real and what is fiction, and can distinguish what is or is not a toxic relationship but still engage with certain material because they like tropes, are exploring kinks, need escapism, etc.?

Like people waste so much time fretting over porn and spice in books. In that time you could have found a dozen more fantasy or sci-fi books that cater to your tastes! As an AroAce person who is discomforted by ideas of sex, I don't engage with smut or spicy books because it's not my cup of tea and I know my personal boundaries. That's it. I just go find books I WANT to read, then! It isn't rocket science! It's ok to not like smut or be uncomfortable with sex scenes/discussions about sex - it's ok! But to go and demonize those who DO like reading that kind of material is hella stupid.

If you really wanna have a discussion about the ick of BookTok then maybe discuss how toxic the publishing industry can be to its authors, especially authors of color, and how it expects authors to work like machines to pump out bestsellers, valuing quantity over quality, or discuss the harm of authors being in review spaces and how this leads to readers facing threats, doxxing, harassment, and then being too scared to share thoughts on books online.

You peeps waste more time worrying about spice and smut when you can just be whimsical and let people enjoy what they wanna enjoy.

Anyways,,,sorry if this is incoherent i'm just feeling VERY salty.

#anti booktok #booktok #Jojo rambles #Jojo reads

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beybaldes · 1 year

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all I know of love is how to live without it

Eddie Roundtree × Fem!Reader

djats masterlist

word count: 1.9k

summary: Eddie's used to being second place, everywhere from the science projects he did in middle school to the one Camilla wouldn't choose. you show him that he's always your no.1.

Warning!! I have not read the book or the show!!! All info I have gathered has been from other x readers I have read. sorry in advance if I have butchered vour fav show/book because I have plainly made shit up in favour of satiating my own need for more eddie fics xoxo

"But the dude still wouldn't leave me alone, so I called Eddie over and was like 'I told you I have a boyfriend, see?' But he still didn't believe me, said he would've seen it in the tabloids if I was taken. Eddie got right in his face about it and then he finally left me alone." Graham laughed through every word you said, the two of you huddled in a corner of the room, it pack with so many people that if you'd wanted to move it would've been hard anyway. When he'd first found you about an hour ago, you'd told him to carry on in his travels, quite content to stand alone and people watch, but Graham insisted, not wanting to leave you alone in the crowd.

"Where is Eddie?" He asked, eyes scanning around the room in search of your partner in crime. Now that you'd thought about it, you'd not seen him in a while - he'd said he was going to grab himself another drink and then seemingly disappeared. "I don't think I've seen him since we got here."

"Yeah, me either." You scanned your eyes across the room once more, not seeing his tufts of blonde hair anywhere. "I'm gonna go look for him, if that's okay."

"You know it is." Graham assured you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side, leaning down so you could hear his next words better over the commotion. "I'm gonna get another drink, come find me if you can't find him."

With a nod, you left the brunettes side, beginning your search for the blonde who you were 80% was crashed on a couch somewhere.

3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms and 6 laps of the main room later you still hadn't found him. You'd bumped into Graham twice who told you to give up on your search and enjoy your evening, and the rest of the members of the six at least once - spare Eddie himself.

In your attempt to scan through the room once more, you walked straight into Camilla, grabbing her by her elbow to make sure she didn't fall over at your sudden connection. "Cami, I'm so sorry I didn't see you."

"It's okay, y/n, don't worry about it."

"You okay?" You asked, noticing a slight sniffle to Camilla's words. Billy could be a dick, so you wouldn't be surprised if he'd said something to her that he really shouldn't have. The words didn't need to be said out loud, a silent conversation shared between the two of you in a matter of seconds between your eyes alone.

You pulled her in for a brief hug, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Don't let it ruin your night. You look hot as shit." Camilla broke into a smile at your words, whatever she had been worked up over melting from her features in an instant. "Go. Have fun. Get drunk. Who cares."

Camilla pulled you in for the hug this time, though only briefly, allowing you to pull away when you whispered a promise to find, and do shots with her, when you'd found what you were looking for.

As Camilla walked past you, you noticed a door behind where she'd stood that you hadn't seen before, leading out onto the balcony - promising to yourself that if Eddie wasn't here, you'd just get on with your night and question him about it the next morning.

Thankfully, the man of the hour was on the other side of the door, his forearms resting on the balcony's fence as he looked out over the city "You!" You cheered, steeping down onto the balcony and approaching Eddie where he stood at its far end, his eyes downcast and a half-assed smile on his face. "I have been looking everywhere for you! You said you were going to get a drink and you disappeared on me! What happened?"

You planted your arms firmly on the railing next to him, leaning down and forward to get a good look at his face which haven't moved since you'd come out to the balcony. Eddie's dejected expression had you freezing, realising the joyful disposition you'd entered the scene with may have not been entirely appropriate.

"Ed's." You reached out a hand for his arm, finally gaining his attention, though his eyes still head a far off look to them. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm fine." He immediately deflected, though the fact that his eyes still couldn't meet yours told you otherwise. "Really."

"I don't believe you." You bent at the knee, tilting your head and trying to get a better look at his face once more. "What happened, Ed's."

It wasn't a question this time; a gentle command for him to talk about, share what was on his mind. A problem shared is a problem halved was a saying you'd been raised on, and you weren't going to falter on that sentiment now.

"I'm fine." That wasn't what you'd asked. "Just go back inside I'll be back in in a minute."

"Eddie." Turning to face him entirely, you leant your side against the railing, one arm on top of it and one reaching out for his hand. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

Eddie still didn't answer you, his jaw locking and his hands gripping the railing tighter as he stared out at the city believe you.

"We don't have to talk about it." You whispered, moving closer to him as you spoke, the music from inside seeping out onto the balcony at its deafening volume. "But I'm here if you decide you want to, if you need someone to listen."

"You'll be there for me?" You couldn't tell what cogs were turning in Eddie's head, what motivated him to finally speak up and ask such a question, but you were glad he was talking. That was a step in the right direction, into finding out what upset him so much.

"Yeah." You answered honestly, no strings attached or conditions to your words. "Always, Ed's."

That seemed to be enough for Eddie for the moment, and you didn't plan on pushing him to talk about it, so you took the opportunity to slip back inside. Running from the balcony door and into the kitchen, you picked up two bottles of beer and ran straight back, not wanting to leave Eddie alone for too long now that he'd began to open up about whatever was bothering him.

"You're back?" Eddie asked when he heard the door creaking open. "What about the party?"

"Everyone else can wait." You answered, offering him one of the beers you'd grabbed cautiously, like he was a wounded animal you were afraid to startle. "You need me. That's all that matters now."

Though Eddie wasn't in the mood for smiling, he could feel one trying to curl onto his lips. He revelled in the quiet shared between the two of you, thankful that you were willing to be patient with him, let him deal in his own time.

"You remember that science fair project we did in the 8th grade?" Eddie asked out of nowhere, breaking the peaceful silence that had settled between the two of you. You took another sip of your beer, turning to him with a confused look on your face. "What did you think of it?"

"Think it was stupid." You muttered, looking at the late night city lights as you thought back on something that felt like a whole other life ago. This where different then, you were different then, and you couldn't quite place when everything had changed. "It still keeps me up at night that Graham won and not us."

While it was definitely an over exaggeration, it elicited a laugh from Eddie - something you'd been hoping to achieve since the moment you'd noticed the crestfallen look on his face.

"It was only because he stole Billy's winning project from the year before too!" You whined, remembering the events more clearly now that Eddie had brought it up. "That cheeky little- I'm so gonna convince him he owe me $50 in the morning."

"What? Why?" Eddie asked, mind now focused on your confusing words more then Camilla breaking his heart.

"I don't know, reparations for the win we deserved or something. I'll split it with you, 30:20."

"Why am I getting $20? Why not $25 each?" Eddie whined, his full body now turned to face you, one arm supporting his weight against the railing while the other held his beer.

"No, no. You'd get the $30. I did jack shit in that project. You did all the hard work."

"Couldn't have done it without you though, y'know." Eddie said in complete earnest, some kind of realisation settling over him as the pair of you dwelled on the memory from a life time ago. It was weirdly poetic in a sense, how even back then, before the band and everything, you stood by his side when a Dunne was breaking his heart in some capacity, put the pieces back together even when he didn't ask you too - or tell you it's what he needed.

"Still can't do shit without out now." The words came out in a teasing way, but you could tell Eddie was trying to mask the sentimental value to them. The two of you had been two peas in a pod as long as you could remember, you could read him like a book even when he didn't want you too.

"You know you could." You teased right back, feeling comfortable enough to knock your shoulder against his now that the mood had shifted to a happier one. "You just don't want to."

"Yeah I don't think I do." Eddie let you rest your head on his shoulder, one of your arms wrapping around his bicep while the other wrapped around his forearm in a makeshift hug. "Don't think I ever do, birdie."

"There's my Eddie." You cooed, so casually that it sent Eddie brain whirring. He knew he was nowhere near ready to open up his heart again, but you'd already wriggled your way in so long ago that it felt natural. Something about being your Eddie was something he thought he could get used to, but that wasn't something he wanted to unpack today. "Come back inside."

"Since you asked so nicely." Your arms stayed wrapped around Eddie's as you re-entered the party, weaving your way through the crowd in search of Graham who you'd all but abandoned earlier. He was easy to find, towering over the crowds of people, and he kept himself in good company, introducing you to the group he'd surrounded himself with and you and Eddie finding conversation with them easy.

Though Eddie had a smile on his face that didn't quite reach his eye, his entire demeanour had changed since you first found him on the balcony, and that was enough for you.

The rest of the night went quickly, people coming and going from your group, but you, Eddie and Graham sticking together for the rest of the evening. Eddie added his own opinion to the conversation every now and then, but spent most of the night taking in the feeling of your arms around his; thinking about how he must have been someone good in his last life to deserve such an angel as you in this one.

#djats imagine #djats x reader #daisy jones and the six imagine #daisy jones and the six x reader #eddie loving x reader #eddie roundtree #eddie roundtree oneshot #detective abe imagine #eddie roundtree imagine #eddie roundtree x reader #eddie loving onehsot #eddie loving imagine #eddie loving

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genderkoolaid · 10 months

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(different person than last anon) can you give us like actual scientific papers that "nonhumans" are real and not just ppl that need a lot of psychological help? bc like while gender + sex can be very diverse and change w the individual, species is extremely specific and thats why shit like making crossbreeds is so insanely hard and they usually end up infertile bc the genes arent meant to be combined. n also the only example i can think of of any other species having "i am not the species i was born as" thoughts is that one female monkey that was raised so close w people she thought she was a person and she would refuse to breed w any of her primate species bc of it. you would call that mental illness in that monkey because she cannot be a person in a monkey body, just like someone can't be a dog or angel or horse in a human body, so why do you not consider being "nonhuman" also a mental illness?

can you please explain about alterhumanity? I don’t mean to be negative, I don’t understand… “there are only two sexes” is wrong because biology knowledge we have today actually doesn’t support that. did modern taxonomy find out something similar about humans? that’s very interesting, I don’t know a lot about it! but if you do I’d love to read that research!

So I think "there are only two sexes" isn't the best example; the comparison is more like "people can't change their gender because gender is whats in your pants"

Yes, we can look at chromosomes and hormones and sexual organs, and that stuff is related to gender. But to say "gender/sex is a construct" does not mean "chromosomes/hormones/sex organs don't exist." Its pointing out that our relationship to those things is culturally dependent (I wouldn't say "unnatural" because humans making social constructs is natural).

Similarly, we do divide up species based on reproduction and common ancestors. But "humanity" is also a construct. What it means to be human & who is defined as human can and does change depending on our culture. Not only can some people be excluded from humanity (for example, people of color and neurodivergents), but some people believe they are spiritually nonhuman (whatever that means for them). Some people who have been rejected from humanity identify as alterhuman as a way of saying "you don't want me, then I don't want you" (voidpunk is related to this although not inherently alterhuman). Some people are delusional and identify with alterhumanity as a way of coping with their delusions (and also, yes, you can be self-aware about your delusions). Some people believe in reincarnation or alternate universes or have some other spiritual belief related to being nonhuman. Some people just feel like dogs and enjoy being a dog and it doesn't matter why because they just like it.

Honestly, the monkey does sound like a monkey-version of alterhuman, because (if I can get a little anthropomorphize-y on y'all), it sounds like she did not feel apart of "monkey culture." Obviously we can't know if monkeys have a concept of monkey-hood like we do with humanity, but if they did it would not be hard to imagine how a monkey raised with humans would feel more human than monkey. But regardless... we don't need other species to have alter-species-hood for the same reason we don't need snails to crossdress for trans people to exist. Other animals probably don't have the same complex. abstract social constructs we do.

Why can't someone be a horse in a human body? For the same reason someone can't be a man in a woman's body- because "science says"? Both trans-denial and alterhuman-denial emphasizes biology over sociological investigation, which leads people to just keep shouting "but science!!!!!!!!!!" at people who are more invested in questions of culture and constructs and what it means to be [man/woman/human] in society.

(Also, I'm kind of uncomfortable with how the first ask talks about mental illness. Specifically "person believes harmless weird thing, so they must need Psychological Help for their Wrong Thoughts")

#m.#ask box

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riftfic · 8 months

Text

17. Epilogue

The end is here.

Thank you, everyone, for staying with me till now. I've made two additional illustrations buried in the text below. :)

Happy Anniversary, Undertale. 💙

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An incandescent future unfolded over the course of that year. Though far too familiar events repeated with frustrating familiarity, they arrived in new packages: some in bright and colorful wrapping, some in grossly damaged bags. Even if confusing and often jarring, most monsters expressed gratitude to have familiar yet unfamiliar lives awaiting. The additional security and a world more accepting allowed them to press on with more comfort than expected.

Not all were as fortunate. Several returned to lives in pieces. Lost relationships. Humans that knew them, loved them, and had aged beyond them. Photographs of small children they might never conceive. Tombstones engraved with names of the living . . . sometimes their own.

At first, Asgore and Toriel tried to shield you from the responsibility. This level of accountability, they said, should not rest on a child’s small shoulders. No one needed to know about your hand in the broken clock.

You didn’t see it that way. Not knowing why their lives had been stolen, left wondering if their relationships could be undone again, only festered the wound. So you explained to them what had happened and why, and swore that it would not and could not happen again. Amazing, how forgiving monsters could be—not that they all were.

For three months, HEART continued its search for monsters left behind. The moment Sans had recovered, he had jumped at the chance to join Papyrus and Undyne among their ranks. His unique teleportation magic served them well once he had a feel for those snaking, unfamiliar shafts and pathways. Places once difficult to reach suddenly became accessible. Dozens of monsters and their families owed him thanks, especially those trapped deep in the Ruins.

None of them were Wingdings.

With this and all else he had set in motion to free them, monsterkind quickly came to love and respect Sans in a way he had never truly experienced. Sure, he had been a recognizable face in the local comic scene, the friendly smile at Grillby’s every other night, the playful hotdog peddler in Hotland, sentry and judge for the royal family, but never . . . this. If the swath of gifts and well wishes in his hospital room hadn’t been enough proof, Asgor went far enough as publicly honoring him. He hadn’t knighted him, thankfully—a fact Sans could not celebrate more—but he did proclaim something more touching than that.

He named a star.

As a human, the first mention of this honor had underwhelmed you. Humans named stars all the time for science, for romance, for shits and giggles. What you hadn’t understood was that, to monsters, this meant far more than looking up and picking a distant flicker.

Their people had evolved from stardust. While humans had a touch of this magic in them, monsters churned with this fire as their lifeblood. The celestial bodies, their very beginnings, were esteemed with enough reverence to be gods.

Their banishment to the Underground had been especially cruel for this fact, and after such a long separation from the sky, marking their reunion with a new light was more than fitting. After all, when someone’s name was thought with enough intent in so many hearts, a star wasn’t only named; it was born.

It was bright and it was beautiful. When viewed through his telescope, it nestled in a pocket of blue and gold fringed in red, much like the Ring Nebula, only light years from a star they had once named after you.

“i don’t get it,” he admitted to you after the fact. “all i did was make up for somethin’ i did wrong. my motivations weren’t exactly heroic either.”

“Not all knights wear armor, Sir Sans the Star.”

“heh . . . and just what’re you gettin’ at, fair frisk the fart?”

You laughed. “It doesn’t matter why you did it,” you said. “You still did it. You brought back the dead, Sans. You deserve to be thanked for that, don’t you?”

You knew Asriel hadn’t been the one he wanted to resurrect. Even after the members of HEART had disbanded, he delved into the dark in search of Wingdings until his phalanges bled and his magic ran dry. All of you had begged him to relent, Asgore more than anyone. Not until every inch of the Underground’s remains had been scoured did he finally lose hope.

At least now, his brother’s name did not wither from memory like a dream in the morning light. For the first time, he could mourn him freely. He could share memories with those who knew him, find understanding in kindred spirits, and heal.

As one year on the surface came to a close, he finally found the courage to destroy the machine.

The spring sun crisped dewdrops from dandelions as you and Sans strode across his overgrown lawn. The skeleton brothers’ house, a cozy little two story chalet, stood half embedded in the steep hillside behind you. Its stilted, elevated porch overlooked miles of green forest and a babbling river inlet at the knoll’s foot, just as he had remembered. A long road wound atop the hill’s peak, passing from driveway to driveway to outline a comfortably spaced neighborhood. In the distance, Mount Ebott reached among smaller peaks for white clouds in a gold and pink sky.

Under your arms, you each carried a folded mesh lawn chair. Matte black aviator sunglasses masked Sans’ eyes, though a cyan glow smoked behind the left lens. A pair of bright purple shields blocked your own. Following behind in a cloud of blue magic, the rusty, tattered block of a machine he called a “temporal flux manipulator” hovered helplessly a meter off the ground.

A safe distance from the coyote bushes dotting the property line, Sans shook out his chair and tossed it down beside a patch of naked buckwheat. You followed suit and plopped into your seat.

“countdown?” Sans requested.

Before you could start, he had flung the machine unceremoniously upward, nearly thirty feet into the air. At its very peak, he voided his magic. It plummeted into a satisfying cacophonous crash of metal and glass, as if a double decker had smashed into a brick wall.

“Three,” you said.

Two Gaster Blasters materialized over his shoulders.

“Two.”

Their unhinged jaws pooled white-hot energy in their gullets.

“One.”

Those wild-eyed dragon skulls unleashed two furious jets of dangerous magic. The light reflected in your sunglasses. Screams of raging power overwhelmed the once peaceful ambiance of nature. You both watched impassively, but perhaps just a little smugly, as what had once been a marvel of science was pummeled down into a flaming mess.

The blasters dissipated, appeased. Both natural and magical fire burned high like a bonfire in front of you. You popped open a bag of marshmallows. Sans, meanwhile, emptied an old yellow envelope into the flames, then shrugged and tossed in the sleeve as well. Blueprint after blueprint shriveled away to embers, never to be crafted again.

“erase that, ya fat gameboy,” he muttered.

Just as he reclined in his chair, a sputter of laughter spooked him out of it again.

“That was five years of our lives and 20 million G in government funding you just blew up.”

Sans whipped around, eye sockets wide and empty. You followed his gaze. The uncooked marshmallow you had been too impatient to wait for fell from your lips.

A lanky skeleton stood somewhat removed behind your chairs, clinging to a small paper bag and his own wrist. An orange laminate wristband hung above his bony palm, rugged from wear, and another rested alongside it in white. The sleeves of his loose, plum colored button-up had been pushed up to his elbows; the buttons down his torso had been fastened incorrectly, off by one. Something like apprehension and hesitation lit the small lights of his eyes, so similar to Sans’ and yet worlds apart.

Sans’ hand shook audibly as he peeled the sunglasses from his face.

Wingdings looked exactly the same as he had nearly a century ago—no longer melted, his body whole—even if those awful cracks still split his skull. They had been mended, only scars now behind a thin but large pair of lopsided circular glasses. Though he had seemed joyful a moment ago, his smile slowly slipped away.

At his heels, a small white dog panted happily. Far behind, at a bend in the road, a black Lincoln idled in park. Asgore stood leaning on the car door, watching from afar.

“I guess,” Wingdings eased past the silence, “it worked. Kind of. In a roundabout way. Basically, I was right; you were wrong. Congrats to me.” A small smile split his face again and his shoulders twitched upward. “Hooray,” he lilted weakly.

Sans had been creeping cautiously nearer, trembling, tracing that silhouette with the star of his left eye. Only inches apart, he touched the wristbands. The white one listed his name, his species, a mental hospital, and an admittance date—almost nine months ago. The orange band simply stated, “SUPERVISION REQUIRED.”

Sans’ face was wet before he realized why. Every thought and feeling had been swept away until now.

“did you really come all the way from the void,” he hardly breathed, “just to rub it in my face?”

Wingdings stared down at him a long moment before his eyelights circled up into a cinched brow. He shrugged again. “Yes?”

Sans bubbled with laughter then, and Dings bubbled back. Next thing you knew, they were piled in each other's bones on the ground, happy, relieved, home. The Annoying Dog danced joyful doggy circles around them with a wildly flapping tail.

From his vantage point, Asgore smiled with relief and found the resolve to approach.

“Oh, hey,” Wingdings said brightly when he noticed you nearing. “One sec.”

He opened the paper bag and rustled around inside. The sound of pill bottles jostling like rain sticks only distracted you a moment before he surfaced something both considerate and serendipitous. Chocolate. Your favorite. A big, thick bar of the good stuff, the kind that melted in the mouth and made for soft and perfect s’mores. Your mouth salivated as you took the brick into your hands. The two of you were going to get along fine.

“One square at a time,” Asgore instructed you firmly.

You nodded.

“nine months?” Sans lamented playfully, tugging at the band around his brother’s wrist. “i coulda given birth by now. what happened? where were you? why . . .” Joy siphoned out of him. “why didn’t i know?”

At this, the anxious guilt Wingdings had forgotten sprang to life again.

“I’ll explain.” Asgore’s broad shoulders blocked the sun like a monument. His large though gentle voice stilled them all.

“Your majesty, I can . . .”

“I am no longer ‘your majesty,’” the great boss monster interrupted Wingdings with a smile. “I am your friend.”

Dings relented, then, even if he fidgeted with the tags wrapped around his ulna and radius. Sans took his hand hostage.

Shortly before Sans had joined HEART, a small team had discovered Wingdings deep in the remnants of Waterfall. They had nearly given up their search when an annoying white dog barked after them ceaselessly. It led them to a dark alcove behind watery curtains, where Wingdings lay huddled in a corner, confused and nearly starved.

“I was all bone,” Wingdings interjected shyly, but no one smiled.

When he received the call that yet another skeleton had been unearthed, Asgore had raced to meet them almost as fast as he had run to meet you—but what he found was not the reunion he had hoped for. His smart, clever friend had been whittled down to a frightened creature with an ever fracturing hold on reality. With the breaking of the barrier, more than his grip on the rift had slipped loose. His mind had lost its bearings into a whirlwind of relentless psychosis. Excluding his early years in the void, Wingdings could not remember enduring an episode darker than this.

Though warned of Wingdings’ catatonia and incoherency, the king of the underground immediately requested to visit him. He was glad he did. Something about seeing Asgore snapped Wingdings out of his stupor and into a brief moment of clarity, long enough to ask for help . . . and beg for the news not to escape, not even to Sans.

“I didn’t want to be seen like that, marbles all over the floor,” Dings said. “And if I couldn’t be helped, well . . . I thought it would be better to stay forgotten.”

‘i didn’t forget you.” Sans’ grip on his brother’s hand tightened. “i mourned you. i thought you were dead.”

‘I’m sorry.”

“I should have told you, Sans,” said Asgore. “Right away. I was torn . . . and the longer I put it off, the harder it became.”

Sans took measure of his heartache and decided it wasn’t worthwhile to blame them, not now. He had learned to forgive Asriel; he could absolve his brother and Asgore of this one misstep. He let the warmth of that metal bonfire and the sight of Wingdings’ tired face smooth over his soul.

“you don’t gotta apologize,” he sighed. “it sounds . . . scary.”

Windings nodded meagerly, but did not elaborate.

Asgore had placed him in a special care ward under the brightest human and monster minds he could assemble. Thankfully, humans had already researched three years ahead on this front. With their combined understanding of monster and human anatomy, they found a combination of physical and magical treatment that worked enough to stabilize him. The rest relied on therapy.

“I’ll have sessions twice a week,” said Dings. “Asgore already agreed to take me, so if you have reservations . . .”

“reserva—the hell are you talking about?” Sans said. He had gripped his little brother by the shoulders, then, harsh at first but quickly gentle. Tears beaded in his eyes. “you think a little hot water’s gonna scare me off? you’ll be lucky if you get me off your heels!”

“It’s not over,” Windings said shakily. “I’m not cured. Something like this doesn’t just go away. It . . . sleeps.”

Sans deflated, then softly clutched him to his chest. Dings lowered his eyes, melting touch-starved into arms he had once lost hope in feeling.

“i know,” Sans answered calmly. “and when it wakes up you don’t gotta face it solo. you’re not alone in the dark anymore. you’re home.”

Sans inhaled deeply, mercifully, as if he hadn’t truly breathed since the day he lost him. Saying the words aloud had released something inside him like puncturing a balloon. Everything felt pure and new: the weight of his brother in his arms; the scent of him intermingled with the neighbor’s freshly-cut grass; the warmth of his breath amid the late summer sunlight bleaching his skull; the glow of his eyes against the bonfire flickering strange their shadows. Nothing would let him forget this, not even the stars that began to glimmer out of hiding.

“you’re home,” he said again, and this time his voice rattled with joy.

Wingdings held him very tightly then, desperately, and with it Sans knew he shared the sentiment. He smiled truly, deeply, never more whole, and hid it for himself in folds of wine purple cloth.

“you made it.”

The End

Hear me now, hope you're listening It's been centuries, least what it seems to me I've been on this road, my eyes glistenin' Our past don't matter, I'm much stronger And fly much farther, soar overseas Finally, see, I'll keep on climbing Ridin' the lightning and I am sure

At times, I really didn't show What was wrong with me, wrong with me I told myself I cannot grow Without lovin' me, lovin' me But this is just the hell that lives inside Tell me now, where to? Please be my guide

I've been goin', goin' in circles Reoccurring dreams, talkin' in my sleep Then I'm floatin' up to the surface I can finally breathe, I could do anything And I don't know why it's all right And it's not at the same time Then I look up at a blue sky And I know

At times, I really didn't show What was wrong with me, wrong with me I tell myself I cannot grow Without lovin' me, lovin' me This is just the hell that lives inside Tell me now, where to? Please be my guide

"Lovin' Me" - Kid Cudi feat. Phoebe Bridgers

That's it. That's the end. :')

This has been an amazing journey. Thank you, thank you so much for reading through to the end.

I've been considering starting a new fic, a part two so to speak, that follows Wingdings as he reconnects with family and friends and learns to navigate his new life. Plus healing, as well as his mental health and trauma from the void. Maybe romance??? idk. A wholesome slice-of-life thing, much lighter in tone. I have scenes in my head already.

Thank you again. I have a surprise in store, so please don't unsubscribe just yet. ;)

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#undertale #rift #riftfic #ut #undertale fanfic #undertale fanart #chapter 17 #epilogue #the end #sans #frisk #wingdings gaster #wd gaster #gaster #asgore #thank you #i can't say that enough #8th anniversary #undertale anniversary

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junosmindpalace · 11 months

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Hello!!! Can I request how would Senku, Tsukasa, Ryusui and Xeno (if you're familiar with him) (separately, slightly angst??) react to finding out their s/o has self-harm scars/is self-harming? If you're not comfortable writing that, it’s totally okay!! I just thought that because I've never seen anyone do this I'd maybe try to request it before the asks close.

Don't know if you heard this but I really like your writing!! 💕

hello there!! thank you for your request! i hope that you are safe and well, and i hope i did this request justice. feedback is absolutely welcome.

warnings: implied self harm but nothing descriptive

Senku: alternatives. Senku could handle the emotional shtick pretty well, even if it wasn't his forté, but with a matter so sensitive, he opted to go for what he did best; using his knowledge of science to help you in whatever ways he can.

Senku has always been a man of action, and so that’s the way to go for him. His care and concern is expressed through his means of trying to help you cope or recover, but you can also see it in his eyes when he catches glimpses of the scars.

He has a good eye and good intuition- besides, he cares about you enough to know what makes you tick. He tries to prevent your harmful thoughts or redirect your attention away from them before they can manifest further. This usually means making some witty comment that you can resonate with, or having Senku whisk you away to aid him in a science experiment, finding ways to keep your hands and mind busy on something fun and creative that can help you relieve stress.

His medical knowledge comes in handy when he suggests harm minimization strategies, and he knows sometimes they can feel silly or not do enough justice, but if he can do anything at all to ease the pain in your mind and keep you away from harm, he’ll absolutely be doing it, whether its physical means of relieving yourself in slightly safer and less damaging ways, such as trying to reduce how often you harm and what means you use. He teaches you about all these other methods as well, from something more mellow to drawing on skin to something a bit reminiscent of the pain, such as physical activity.

Whatever it may be, Senku will absolutely be using it in an attempt to help you, but makes sure not to push too hard with them, and simply suggest or show you methods and let you dictate for yourself whether they were helpful or not. Whatever it is you choose, he'll always make an active effort to help support you in whatever ways he can with his knowledge of science.

Tsukasa: listens judgment free. He understands feeling isolated, and from experience, he knows how simply hearing a person out can go a long way. He understands that the subject is difficult to talk about, and so he’ll never pressure you into opening up about details you’re uncomfortable with. He lets you take your time, always making sure to be there for you in other ways to reinforce in your mind that he’s someone you could trust.

Whether you pour out your feelings or only reveal bits and pieces in the way you’re most comfortable, he won’t once interrupt until he’s sure you’re finished talking. All his attention is fixed on you, and he doesn’t overwhelm you with questions or his own opinions either. Telling a person to stop is much easier said than done, and so he doesn’t, instead doing his best to communicate that he’s here for you if he can do anything at all to help.

Though not too familiar with alternatives himself, he remembers soothers that helped calm his sister when she was a baby, and he offers to try them on you when the urge arises. Though maybe childish, if they could distract you even for a little while, Tsukasa was glad. And even though he’ll always gently direct you to people and resources that could be of better help, if all you need sometimes is a listening ear to vent, he’ll always be right there with absolutely no exceptions.

Ryusui: pampers. The man is treating you like royalty. But not before he gives you some sort of inspiring or emotional speech. No matter if it comes out harsh or corny sometimes, it always leaves you feeling the slightest bit lighter.

He’s distressed by this habit of yours of course, and it’s evident in his face that he’s biting back on a comment when it’s addressed. He doesn’t mean any harm or to be overbearing, and he never is. He’s not one to pressure or guilt you, he knows better than that.

He tends to intervene sometimes however, occasionally overstepping with good intention. He’d much rather have you safe and angry at him over anything else if he does tend to overstep. In general however, he just wants to look out for you and help you cope safely.

Cue all the pampering that comes in. Cue all the projects he immerses you in to keep you busy, hands and mind preoccupied with his endless amount of enthusiasm and constant new interests because he knows from experience that working away on something has always made him feel good. Besides, it occupies his mind for weeks. He’s always thinking of you and ways to uplift you- it’s how he’s always been with you.

He knows he can hire the best of the best medical staff to assist in helping break this habit, but he mostly has that group of staff train him to help assist you, because he knows going to other people can be stressful and difficult and he hopes he can be someone you lean on during those vulnerable moments to carefully take care of you and your wounds.

Say the word, and he’ll buy you the world to help lessen the pain in your heart.

Xeno: encourages medical help. He’s a scientist and an astronaut after all. He’s undergone medical training himself, and he knows quite a bit about psychology. He uses both in an attempt to try to help ease your mind and your pain.

The very first thing he’ll suggest is seeking medical assistance. He’s a man of science, of course, and science can help you recover. But going for help isn’t easy, especially if you don’t have the means to do it. So he always makes sure to remind you that his services are open any time you need them.

He’s treating your wounds the moment they appear, and encourages you to at least see him regarding the issue. He never gets upset if you don’t, because he knows these kind of things are sensitive and hard to deal with, but he’ll always do his best to remind you in subtle and non-invasive ways that he was a person you could trust, and that he wasn’t going to shame you or let anyone else shame you.

He’ll check up on you from time to time, but won’t press for any details or emotional chats. Like Senku, Xeno is a man mainly of action, and he has good observational skills. He also does his best to try and minimize the damage before it can grow into something dangerous.

His means of looking out for you are more traditional and upfront, but they aren't any less well-intentioned, only wanting to make sure you're safe and healthy.

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theharrowing · 4 months

Text

Fuck, you're killing me.

Yoongi finds a way to clone himself, so naturally his first instinct is to fuck himself.

🤍 Dollhouse Yoongi x Collateral Yoongi

🤍 word count: ≈ 1,660

🤍 crossover episode between fics, selfcest, sci-fi, slash, nsfw, 18+

🤍 warnings: top yoongi, bottom yoongi - but they switch. sci-fi stuff; smut (selfcest aka self incest; anal sex; teasing; begging; spitting; overstimulation; using spit as lube; rough fingering; absolutely no kissing lol); mention of past infidelity. (grey area of whether this counts as infidelity, but i think Dollhouse Jungkook will just wish he was here to see this all go down & otherwise not care.)

🤍 notes: ngl, this is straight up porn. i really speed into the situation so don't ask any questions ok??? just vibe. the sci-fi stuff is vague and alludes to Dollhouse and i use the word "clone" loosely bc i refuse to make this make logical sense!!! let it go in one eye and out the other and just enjoy the show. i guess there are some slight Dollhouse spoilers but just don't hang on too many "plot" details okay!!! in one eye, out the other!!!

🤍 written for the Harrow’s Holiday Cheer Event, requested by @park-jimin-isnt-real. 🎈 Jay, Jay, Jay. you really chose chaos on the day that you requested this fic, and for that i am grateful. i hope it makes all of your dreams come true!!! i adore you so much!!!

🤍 beta read by @neoneunnajimin

🤍 posted jan. 2024

Of all the marvels of science that the Min family has participated in inventing and experimenting with, this one has to take the cake. It is not enough that his team has found a way to jump their consciousness into other people's bodies temporarily, or even permanently, but now he has somehow managed to actually clone himself.

Only, this clone is…different.

He is clearly not quite the same man staring back at him, and it almost seems as if this man has thoughts and understandings behind those cold, dark eyes. Yoongi half expected him to show up as a clean slate with no individual consciousness or memories.

Whereas Yoongi has recently cut his hair short and maintains an appearance of being much softer than his sharp inner demons, this clone has wild, long hair and eyes that pierce as they take him in—eyes that have clearly seen some shit.

Through the skin surrounding one of his pretty, angry eyes is even a deep gash that begins above his eyebrow and runs through his lid, down to the apple of his cheek. Yoongi leans close to check and see whether that eye is damaged at all from whatever has sliced it, and judging by its clarity and lack of disfiguration—and the way it glares back—he surmises it must not be.

"Who the fuck are you?" the clone grumbles, looking down as his nude body shackled upright to an exam table.

Yoongi grins. "Silly. I'm you!"

The clone sighs and glances around the examination room. "Whatever this is, please get it over with quickly. I have important matters to attend to. I need to get back home."

Now this is curious. Has Yoongi somehow managed to pull an alternate-reality version of himself into this current reality? Surely a simple clone would have no knowledge of any other life it leads…right? Fascinating.

"Tell me," Yoongi drawls, stepping up close to the alternate version of himself. "What is your name?"

The man stares for a moment, then grumbles, "Min Yoongi."

And although Yoongi knows the answer, it still delights him to no end to hear his own name come from the man's mouth.

"Min Yoongi," he parrots, voice nearly identical to the nearly identical stranger's voice. "Tell me…have you ever wanted to fuck yourself?

***

The way alternate Yoongi lays sprawled out on the mattress is heavenly to the point that Yoongi finds he has to pinch himself just to make sure this is not a dream. He is very much awake and very much experiencing reality.

The man shivers while Yoongi runs lube-sticky fingers over his nipples and down the curves of his torso. He huffs quick breaths from his pretty, kiss-swollen lips, eyes screwed closed while he adjusts to the girth of his own cock.

Everything down to tiny moles and knobby joints and the gravelly quality of his guest's voice is identical. Yoongi knows he should not enjoy this so much, but god, how could he help himself?

"You can move now," alternate Yoongi mutters somewhat desperately. "Please."

Yoongi gives him light pinches on his nipples and rolls them between his thumb and index finger. "Say please again," he softly commands.

Alternate Yoongi sighs and trembles as he attempts to create friction by digging his heels into the bed and moving his hips. Ordinarily, Yoongi would scold his bottoms for being so greedy, but he rather likes watching himself squirm.

"Please," his clone finally whimpers. He opens his pretty, angry eyes and does his best to plead with them. Breathtaking. "Please, Yo-Yoongi."

Yoongi grins and leans nice and close, pressing himself deeper into the man's tight, heavenly ass and making him sigh. "Say our name again."

He wonders what it must be like for the poor guy to look up and see himself towering over himself. He wonders whether that Yoongi would be into the idea of fucking him next.

"Yoongi," the pretty man mutters pathetically. "Please."

"You sound so pretty when you beg," Yoongi teases, leaning close enough to flick his tongue over the man's lips.

Alternate Yoongi sighs and jerks his head to the side. "For fucks sake," he grumbles. "Just fuck me already. Please."

"Awe," Yoongi mockingly coos. "Is pretty Yoongi embarrassed by how good his own cock feels?"

The man sighs once more and glares at him. This makes Yoongi laugh.

"No need to be ashamed, pretty Yoongi. I happen to love how tight and warm we feel."

"This is so depraved," the man complains despite grinding his hips down, desperate for movement.

With a hum, Yoongi sits up and says, "But you love it." He rubs his fingertips once more down alternate Yoongi's torso, then grips onto his hips as he adds, "I can tell."

"Please, Yoongi," the man begs as he digs his head into the pillow. "Please fuck me." He whimpers and writhes, and Yoongi cannot bite his tongue, eager to continue teasing the poor guy.

"Look at you, squirming under me, all flushed and pretty looking. Can’t even take a little teasing, can you?"

A deep, frustrated groan works its way from deep in the man's throat, but before he can voice anything more, Yoongi pulls his hips back and snaps them forward.

The sound that leaves alternate Yoongi's throat is pornographic and raspy—water crashing against a rocky shoreline. Despite having fucked his own body using someone else's as a host before, this feels different in a way that he struggles to comprehend.

Yoongi wastes no time setting a pace that punches the breath from the pretty man's lungs and has him begging to let him cum. If alternate Yoongi is as sensitive as he is, then it is no wonder he is an absolute fucking mess.

He holds onto the man's hips and pounds into him, doing his best to stave off the urge to bust for as long as possible and admiring the beauty before him. He now fully understands why his last conquest was so desperate to have him—to the point of destroying his own marriage. Poor bastard never stood a chance.

"Please," alternate Yoongi begs, gripping tightly to the pillow with his hands raised over his head while his long hair fans out and clings to his face from sweat.

Yoongi leans forward and collects enough saliva in his mouth to drop a sizable amount down onto the shaft of the man's cock. This makes him gasp and jolt, and Yoongi begins to gather even more spit, too amused not to do it again.

"Please, please," alternate Yoongi begs, voice broken and perfectly accentuating the firm, rhythmic slap of skin against skin. He even clenches his walls in what Yoongi imagines to be a desperate plea to urge him to do what he wants.

Yoongi is close, and he decides he may as well give in. He wants to watch himself come completely undone beneath him.

"Alright, alright," he says, lifting a hand from the man's hip to reach for his neglected cock. "I'll give my pretty Yoongi what he needs. I can't hold on much longer, anyway."

He grips onto alternate Yoongi's spit-slick cock and tugs, causing every muscle in the poor man's body to seemingly clench and shake.

"Fuck," alternate Yoongi rasps, body bowing from the bed. "Feels good. Please don't stop."

Yoongi feels hypnotized as he watches his hand stroke the man's length—as he watches his nearly identical match quake and sob the closer he gets. As the man's cock begins to pulsate, Yoongi feels himself climb closer and closer to the precipice of bliss.

With a desperate, broken sob, alternate Yoongi cums, shooting his release onto his chest while Yoongi continues to stroke him and fuck him nice and deep. The man's ass clenches tightly, squeezing and releasing in a rhythm not too unlike that of Yoongi's thrusts, and he absolutely fucking loses it.

"Shit," Yoongi spits, releasing the man's dick so he can anchor both hands against the mattress for stability. Alternate Yoongi continues to moan and squeeze, clearly drifting from pleasure to overstimulation, and the sight, sound, and feeling makes Yoongi's head spin.

"Fuck, you're killing me," he whispers hoarsely through clenched teeth as his own orgasm rushes over him. "I'm gonna cum, pretty Yoongi."

Yoongi's hips stutter and still, and he practically falls forward, emptying himself into a nearly identical version of himself who continues to babble incoherently and tremble.

This is what worship should feel like, Yoongi is certain of it. He racks his brain for anything that has come close to being this depraved and incredible—this absolutely fucking euphoric—and he finds he cannot top this experience. This is nirvana.

Yoongi collapses onto himself, burying his face into his guest's neck. His skin, his sweat, his hair, everything smells familiar, and Yoongi does his best not to slip into a state of sleep and comfort.

"Gimme a breather," Yoongi mutters through gasping breaths. "Then you can fuck me and I'll send you home."

Alternate Yoongi scoffs but does not seem too eager to get away.

"You've gotta be kidding me," he grumbles.

"Once in a lifetime opportunity," Yoongi says to sweeten the deal, grinning despite likely not being seen.

Silence hangs, then alternate Yoongi shifts, sliding out from underneath Yoongi and forcing Yoongi to roll onto his back with large, firm hands pressing against his shoulders.

"Alright," the man says, "but I'm going to be fucking rough. You seem like a sick little bastard who likes pain, so I am going to make it hurt."

Yoongi's heart soars, and he smiles widely at the pretty, nearly identical man with long hair and a curious scar. "Make me cry, Yoongi."

Alternate Yoongi towers over him and spreads his legs roughly, then spits onto his fingers and begins prodding at his rim. Yoongi moans unabashedly, instantly slipping into overwhelming pleasure-pain as the man roughly begins to finger him.

How the fuck will he explain this one to Jeongguk when he returns home?

WOW WHOO. that was a wild one. DID YOU HAVE FUN?!?!?! i miss Dollhouse Yoongi a lot! it's fun getting into his head just a little. and, of course, our hot mafia boss Yoongi really does love to beg, doesn't he??? .😈😈😈

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#yoongi smut #yoongi selfcest #yoongi x yoongi #fic: fuck you're killing me #fic: dollhouse #fic: collateral

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