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#but also they're both crying the entire time

lolahaurisfw · 2 days

Text

: ̗̀➛ Sebastian: Fluff Alphabet

A/N: Repost from old account.

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

He loves that you accept him for who he is. You respect his work, his social boundaries, and you don't try to change him or force him out of his comfort zone.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

Hips and waist! Thick or thin, he just loves holding onto yours hips, or putting his arms around your waist.

Hugs from behind >>>

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

Big spooning you, he loves to hold you like a teddy bear :)

Also loves it when you lay your head on his chest and hold him, or just fully lay on top of him. The pressure is calming.

The best cuddles are when it’s raining. He may love going out in the rain, but he loves cuddling in bed and listening to it hit the window more.

So he’d beg you to take the day off and be lazy with him, probably trying to persuade you with a cup of coco and your favorite sitcom.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

Dancing in the rain with you… omg

Imagine meeting him in the Cindersap forest on a stormy morning.

He pulls you under a patch of trees, distant enough that the rain is still hitting you, but close enough that you aren't getting completely soaked.

He looks (down/up) at you, locking eyes and smiling, his cheeks getting a little pink.

He wraps an arm around your waist and brings your hand into an embrace with his free one. Lacing your fingers together at shoulder level, doing a classic ballroom dance.

You both spend some time just spinning around in the soaked grass, laughing and kissing each other like nothing in the world has ever existed besides the two of you. <3

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

Very pessimistic and emotionally reserved at first. He'd let you know if he was upset and why, but he wouldn't really bother trying to talk it out or find a solution.

But the more serious your relationship became, he was willing to open up to you more, see things on the bright side sometimes, let you help him and be his shoulder to cry on.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

I don't think he would, he'd rather focus on you.

And some occasional traveling.

Kids are stressful and cause a lot of anxiety, not something he'd ever find appealing.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

Not his strong suit, or preferred love language, but he’s fine with it.

He’s a minimalist decorator, so for receiving gifts, i think he’d prefer food or items that don’t take a lot of space/have a good use.

Like clothes, video games, nail polish, eyeliner, decorations for his frog vivarium, etc...

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

Holding your hand under the pillow while he big-spoons you! >>

He's more of a full on cuddler than just a hand-holder. But yeah, he loves to lace your fingers together while lying in bed.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

Inside he's freaking out BAD and already feeling sick.

But on the outside, he tries to stay normal and calm so he doesn't worry you.

If you're really badly injured, he'll pick you up right away and bring you to Harvey.

Sits by the hospital bed the entire time and holds your hand. <3

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

Def not a prankster, I feel like Abi and Sam are the prankster types, so he's grown to be very annoyed with it lol.

He has a more sarcastic, quick wit sense of humor.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Neck kisses!! He thinks they're really hot, and likes seeing you get flustered by them.

Cheek and lip kisses tie for second. Cute n sweet.

Bunny kisses!!! omg!

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?)

Quality time and acts of service.

Quality time may not sound right because he always talks about how he likes a lot of alone time. But that's exactly why I think it is one of his major love languages.

You two have a deep, special, unique connection. And that translates to him actually wanting to spend lots of time with you, unlike his friends and family.

And acts of service just because it feels like the opposite of words of affirmation (showing vs telling).

And since he's def not much of a talker, he likes to tell you he loves you with actions.

Like: feeding the pets, cleaning up around the house & farm while your gone, grocery shopping or cooking when you're too busy, etc...

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

The night you met him on the dock while it was raining.

It's an uneventful memory, but it was the day his feelings for you were solidified.

He loves looking back on how intimate the moment was, just talking and joking and getting to know each other more.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

Waking up to divorce papers on the table...

I think it would (obviously) completely destroy him, make him lose any hope on love, leaving the valley, moving from his family...

The last thing he'd ever want to do is to go back to being a depressed introvert who lives in his mothers basement.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

His frog obsession, ofc.

Totally rambles about frogs and general amphibian facts.

Super cute though.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

Babe, baby, beautiful, ducky, bunny.

Tadpole (tell me i’m wrong).

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

Sitting in his lap while he works! >>

Being lazy around the house and just cuddling n talking to each other.

He LOVES listening to you talk.

His favorite thing though: rides out of town on his motorcycle. Maybe having a picnic on the cliff once you get there!

R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?)

Молчат Дома - Клетка

Cigarettes After Sex - Apocalypse

Cage The Elephant - Come A Little Closer

Galaxie 500 - Strange

Heavy on Молчат Дома tho. If he were 18-25 in the 2020's, he'd soo be a Russian doomer music enjoyer.

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

Completely open, I don't think he'd really have any secrets anyway?

He trusts you completely.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

That completely depends on you. He would genuinely be too nervous to ever tell you if he had a crush on you.

He’d drop hints, and you could probably easily tell by his body language and attitude change when you’re around, but he’d never be too bold or say it outright just incase you didn’t like him.

Kinda unrelated but your dynamic would def be “you fell first, he fell harder.”

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

A little awkward at first, but he tries his best. He gets better at knowing how to comfort you the longer you’re together.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

His programming talents! He loves telling you about it.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

He's a little nervous about you going in the mines and fighting, but he trusts that you know what you're doing.

He probably wouldn't fight with you though. (unless it was to save you ofc)

He just doesn't have it in him to kill something.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

Actually very well.

Since he's more a listener and observer, he's obviously picked up quickly on how to read you.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

Absolutely takes you to the cliff where you shared your first kiss.

Takes you completely by surprise too, drops exactly 0 hints beforehand that he was about to propose.

Definitely cries when you say yes ahhhh!!

Picks you up and spins you around while kissing you all over.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

Night walks, watching his frogs in their vivarium, running errands in the morning, a cigarette after a stressful day, Friday nights at the saloon with Sam & Abi, listening to the radio while he works, sitting alone at the end of the dock, motorcycle rides, daydreaming before bed, morning showers with you, cuddling while a record or tv show plays in the background.

#sdv #sdv sebastian #sdv fluff #sdv x reader #sdv sebastian fluff #sdv sebastian x reader #x reader #fluff alphabet #fluff

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lvlyghost · 6 months

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Remnants

PAIRINGS: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SUMMARY: You got hurt and Simon finds out.

WORD COUNT: 1.0k

TW: bruises, slight angst. reader missing simon. also fluff think that's it. lmk if i missed any. also poorly edited and not proofread. mind the english!🤭✨🤍

A/N: this is so self indulgent. embarrassing how much time it took to get out because i've had this idea for two weeks now. anyway enjoy!💛

Masterlist✨

Laying in bed until it was late was part of your daily routine when Simon was off on deployment. Too tired to even get up when he wasn't around to wake you at 7:00 a.m.

He was a morning person unlike you.

You remember the days he would drag you against him by the waist mumbling something about being too late to be in bed, to which you had groggily bit back and slapped his arm in a playful manner. Then he would be gone for months, leaving nothing but an empty bed and the absence of his deep voice to fill your ears. Feeling that made your eyes well with tears and your heart ache. What if I don't see him again? What if that was the last time I ever felt his touch?

Shaking your head you pull yourself out of the comfort of your shared bed, taking a quick bath before preparing yourself a nice breakfast.

Winter is starting to settle in and your favorite thing to wear is his black hoodie. The one that swallows you entirely. It smells like him, it's almost like being embraced by him.

"Come on don't cry now." rubbing your eyes with the hem of the sleeves. Traitorous, salty droplets spilling down. "Jesus." Taking a deep breath you calm yourself and the ache gradually stops.

The kitchen is somewhat cold despite the heater turned on. You watch as the coffee brews —the one he dislikes— you smile again although small. Barely a quirk of your lips at the thought of him looking intently at you as you take a sip and offer him one.

'Bloody incorrigible.' He had muttered.

But you had seen him smiling that day as well, as different as you both were from one another, the love you two held couldn't be denied, nor broken.

That's why when the front door creaks open your eyes widen, legs moving faster than your brain can register. Socked feet dragging across the wooden floor nearly slipping. Simon stands stall, the door closing behind him as he lowers the black duffel bag on the floor.

"Are you really back?" Your lower lip trembles, the emotion too heavy to hold it back.

"Come here, love." You lunge forward, collapsing against his body. Simon's quick to catch you with strong arms holding you. Bodies pressed together. He can finally let himself breathe. The smell of your home, the smell of that awful coffee you love, the aroma of your shampoo and perfume that drives him absolutely crazy. He pulls his mask off and his mouth is soon against your soft lips. Oh how he missed you. He missed this, his girl softly caressing his face standing on your tiptoes. Simon grumbled, when he feels the air shift and you pull back, his brown eyes glimmer with devotion.

"Don't worry there's tea for you. Plenty. I made sure of that for when you returned." He inhales deeply, kissing you once again on the forehead. Taking his hand you lead him to the kitchen to serve both the breakfast you've been working on. "How are the boys?" You ask taking two mugs out of the top cabinet.

"A bit more scarred than before but they're good." He comes behind you lingering close —too close— to your back. "Price wants a reunion. Told him I'd let you decide."

"You already know I'll say yes." He hums watching you pour some water in the kettle and waiting for it to boil. "Black or chamomile?"

"Black." You try to move around as much as you can with him caging you from behind. Giggling when he once again kisses you on the temple. "Alright, let me see you again..."

Simon grabs you by the forearm it's not hard, it's gentle but firm. Firm enough to hurt your neglected limb. You shriek, a loud 'no' leaves your lips as you stumble back and away from him, soothing the place where he had touched you. It hurt so much but you quickly regret your reaction knowing it'd spark something within him.

Simon's eyes go wide, then his brows furrow so hard you can see the small line that could leave a permanent mark on his forehead.

"What was that?" He growled. The distance you put between you and him is cut off by his long strides.

"It's nothing, I- I swear." You trail off, searching for an explanation. But he's smart and he won't let this pass.

Few things could make him lose his temper, you lying about your wellbeing was one of the top on the list.

"Show me." He demands and the way his eyes pierce through every part of you leaves no room for discussion.

Rolling up your sleeves you hold out your forearms. Simon's jaw clenches so hard you're certain he's cracked some of his teeth. Eyes set on your damaged limb; red and purple bruises on your skin. They're so fucking big and he has to remember how to breathe and control his emotions. "How?" His eyes shot back to yours, awaiting.

"I promise it's not what you're thinking Simon."

"Don't give me that. I asked you a question." he takes one of them careful not to press too hard as he brushes his thumb over one of them. Fucking hell. It's swollen.

"Just work Simon. I had to carry big boxes and you know I'm not that strong, that's it. So stop thinking the worst, yeah?"

Sighing he lets go of your arm, the anger slowly ebbs and he feels fucking tired. He thought the worst. No one could blame him, it was in his DNA.

"Next time let me know beforehand, bloody hell love."

You give him a quick hug.

"I still might have to have a talk with your cunt boss."

You snort.

"No you won't." You declare, motioning for him to follow back. "Tea's ready."

Oh, but he would definitely pay him a visit.

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i-cant-sing · 5 months

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I can’t get this scenario out of my head with yan!batfamily in which Bruce worms his way into a depressed reader’s life by marrying their mother and slowly taking over the role of parenting reader while dealing with the depression.

No because Bruce would do that. In his head, its just another mission to "save Y/n" and sure, your mother isn't exactly his type, and your depression isn't exactly her fault- the poor woman just works day and night for you both to survive in this outrageous economy, she doesn't have had enough time to see you not doing so well mentally.

Bruce and his sons, by whatever sequence of events, are now infatuated with you. What started as concern for your well being has now turned into obsessive need to control your life to make it better. So, yeah... Bruce decides to marry your mom, who is more than happy to finally find a chivalrous, handsome man... who just happens to also be very rich.

Meanwhile, you hate him. It's stupid, but you hate how filthy rich he is and even though you know that he donates a lot to charities, you still hate him because Bruce thinks money can solve everything (and in your case, it almost can), but you can't help but feel insulted everytime he offers you a cheque, a wad of cash to pay off your bills and loans, or even a $20 bill to get yourself some snacks. It feels... abnormal. You're not a charity case.

Perhaps your socioeconomic status isn't the only reason you're depressed. Maybe it's just you missing your father (could be dead/murdered/suicide/just moved far far away).

The moment Bruce finds out that your dad is the reason why you're so depressed, oh it's "I WILL FATHER ANOTHER CHILD IN NEED OF PROFESSIONAL HELP" time. He's doubling down on his paternal instincts and he's just mentally smacking himself like "ofc you need a father figure in your life. Who better than me????"

And it just makes your skin crawl at how nonchalant Bruce is about all this- about incorporating himself into your and your mother's life. Treating you both, especially you like you're actually related. Like he's been around with you two his entire life. You lose your appetite when he stays for dinner, but you sit at the table for your mother. You try to make excuses when your mother tells you that you have to go with her at the Wayne Manor because "Bruce wants to spend a day with family". You can't help but look at your mother in wonder at how she is comfortable when you both pull up at the manor. You thought things would be easier if Bruce's sons were also uncomfortable or even hated you and your mother (or thought that your mom was a gold digger), but no, they're just as worse as Bruce. Dick being particularly the worst in the sense that he's more affectionate and his love language is physical touch, so you get squished to his chest everytime he sees you, with a small cry "my baby!" Sometimes, "sis" would be added.

You didn't like either nickname.

Then there's Jason, who is the most normal one of them all, perhaps because he isn't around much and when he is, he just makes small talk.

Tim doesn't talk much either, but he stares a lot. Somehow you feel like he knows something about you, at least more than he's letting on.

And lastly, there's Damian, that pompous little shit. You know he's being amicable for Bruce, but his eyes look at you like he's judging you- thinks you're beneath him. Which is true, in the sense of finance. Despite all of that, Damian still wants to show you off his interests/things around the manor. He's still being arrogant ofc, "Look at this oil painting- it's a Van Gogh original. Van Gogh is a famous painter- he's dead though. I'm sure you aren't familiar with his works. I can take you to the Gotham gallery to show you more paintings. Father owns it, so it can be just us two without other people bothering us." He's nice but also not nice. But at least he's not doing it intentionally.

Then there's Bruce. Who is always looking at you with a small smile, but his eyes are always analysing you, even when he's not looking at you directly, you know that he's watching your every move like a hawk. He tries spending time with you, often he succeeds, only because your mother makes you go. He's a good man, hasn't done anything exactly inappropriate, but... even something as small as making you walk on the inner side of the sidewalk so that you're safe from the cars... it doesn't sit right with you. Why is he being so paternal? You certainly have been rude to him on purpose. Always giving him one word answers when he asks you how your day was.

Then one day your mother returns home with a beaming smile.

"Bruce proposed to me! We're getting married!"

After only 3 months of dating? It's what you wanted to say, but you held it back when you saw how happy she was.

The next day, Bruce held a dinner at the manor to celebrate the engagement. Surprisingly, that was the first time you saw Damian looking mad at you and your mom.

It was a reasonable reaction. Acceptable to you, instead of the overly excited yell of Dick "WE'RE GOING TO BE SIBLINGS! That means we can have slumber parties and pillow fights and-"

Your mother and Bruce were shopping for the wedding, looking at dresses and venues and all the shenanigans while you were at the manor, moving your and your mom's stuff in with the boys. It was the last thing you wanted, but your mother.... she insisted on it. Or at least that's what she says, you know Bruce insisted.

Doesn't matter because by next year, you'd be moving away to college anyways.

You just need to put up with this for a little longer and see your mother finally be happy.

You didn't expect your mother to be dead a week before the wedding.

It was out of the blue. You were sitting in the library at the manor because Dick refused to let you be alone in your room all the time, so he was making you some cookies while you read. Then he and Bruce came together, their faces pale as they looked at you.

"Y/n... your mother, she... she got in an accident."

She was driving to some restaurant, wanted to get you your favourite fried chicken and spend some time with you alone. But on her way, a truck crashed right into her car.

She died on the spot.

Whatever little improvement you had on your mental health went straight down the drain. You locked yourself in your room and just cried quietly. They left you alone the first few days, but then Bruce and Dick tried to persuade you to come out, that they were concerned for you. You did come out the day the funeral was held. And it hurt you... it hurt you so deeply when you found out they were burying her at the Wayne cemetery.

She wasn't a fucking Wayne.

If you had any strength, if you had any energy at all, you would've taken your mother and buried her someplace else.

But you didn't.

When you returned inside the manor, you went straight to your mother's room, which was also Bruce's room but you didn't care if he saw you in there or not. You just started packing all of your mother's stuff, her clothes, her jewellery, her photos, everything she came here with, which wasn't much to begin with but still.

"Y/n?" You stiffened when Bruce called you, but you didn't pause on packing. "What are you doing? Looking for something?"

You sighed. Might as well get this over with.

You turnd around, not looking him in the eye.

"I'm moving out. And I'm taking mom's stuff with me. You can check, I'm not stealing anything that belongs to you."

Bruce looked at you in confusion. "Moving out? Where are you going?"

"College. I'll be going there soon anyways, so I'm moving to an apartment with some friends."

"Oh, but you don't need to move out. You can stay with us. Youre family-" you cut him off.

"Bruce, let's not." You finally look at him. "We're not family. I never was, I never wanted to be. Mom's gone now, and I have no reason or desire to be here. Thank you for letting me stay here for as long as you have, but I will be moving out by tomorrow, if not tonight." You said picking up your mother's bag of stuff and walking out of the room. Bruce followed you to your room.

"But I don't want you to move-"

You dropped the bags. "I don't care what you want!"

Bruce looked at you with his brows furrowed. He didn't get why you were acting like this. Your yelling had gotten the attention of the boys too, all looking in confusion at the bags.

"I don't want to be a part of this family. I never have, and I never will. I never liked you or anyone in this family. And if you're concerned about me speaking to the media about you guys, don't worry. If it helps you, you can make me sign an NDA!"

Damian narrowed his eyes at you. "Dont talk to father like-"

"Shut up!" You yelled harshly. You didn't care who you were hurting. Your mother was gone, you had no reason to be amicable to them anymore.

They left you alone that day, and by the next morning, you were ready to leave. At 6 am, you walked down to the main door, with your bags. You weren't expecting them all to be waiting for you, but here they were. You took a step towards the door, but Dick stopped you.

He cleared his throat. "Um, this is the NDA... if you'd just sign it here." He handed you the papers.

Unbelievable. They actually drew up a contract. You took the pen from his hand and signed at the dotted lines.

"Bye." You took another step, except Damian and Tim blocked your path.

"What now?"

"Where are you going?" Tim asked.

"Do we have to go over this again?" You grumbled. "College." You answered.

"You can't." Damian said smugly. What's he smirking for?

"You're gonna break my legs?" You scoffed.

"No, you just signed a document saying that you're a part of this family, and Bruce Wayne is your guardian and has authority over all decisions concerning you like going to college, or even... going out of the house." Damian replied.

You looked at Bruce, because there's no way Damian is being serious. But there were no signs of joking. You looked at Dick, at Jason-

They were all dead serious.

"You cant- you can't be- you can't keep me here." You said.

"You signed the documents. It's your fault for not reading them." Tim said.

"Bruce-"

"I really do believe that it'd be better for you to stay here." Bruce said, taking ahold of your shoulders. "At least until you're doing better mentally."

"I'm fine-"

"I don't think so. And I could even take you to a psychiatrist, they'd agree with me." Bruce cupped your cheek as you flinched away. "You'd be happy here. I promise you that, you'll be safe and happy with us."

You'd try fighting, but you already knew you were outnumbered.

Besides, even if you weren't, even if you were alone with the smallest one of them, you still wouldn't be able to leave. You have no idea what Damian is capable of.

After all, he's the one who had your mother killed.

#yandere batfamily #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfam #yandere batman #yandere batboys #yandere bruce wayne #yandere damian wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere tim drake #yandere jason todd

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satorusluver · 7 months

Text

Prince!Gojo x maid!reader

Minors DNI

I know I mentioned Prince Gojo x arranged fiancé reader but now I am also thinking about Prince Gojo x maid reader.

Tags/warnings: unprotected sex, creampie

Prince Satoru Gojo, who first saw you years ago when you joined his mother's household when you were both teenagers and had an instant attraction to you. You're not even a lady-in-waiting who serves the queen, they're at least noblewomen. You're a servant to a lady-in-waiting, far far below the Crown Prince in ranking, but do you think that's gonna stop Satoru? Hell no. Not when you're the most beautiful woman he's ever laid eyes on.

It took him years to actually speak more than a few sentences to you though, not because you're so below him, but because you're so ethereal, so beautiful and pure that he didn''t want to corrupt you with the sinful thoughts he has of you. But once the spark between the two of you became apparent, nothing could stop it from blazing, his better judgement and the social hierarchy be damned.

You think he's thinking about any of that when he's balls deep in your soft, velvety cunt? When he's feeling your legs wrapped around his waist and your hot breath panting in his ear, and hearing you whimper his name, his real name, and not "my prince" or "your highness" or "Crown Prince Satoru"? Because here, in this room away from prying eyes, he's just Satoru -your Satoru.

And no, you didn't expect friendly conversations and harmless flirtations and maybe a few stolen kisses to so quickly evolve into Satoru bunching up the skirt of your dress around your hips and rutting into you against the wall of an empty room during the few short minutes before he has high tea and you have to return to washing the windows. His pace is hard and fast due to the lack of time, and it makes your eyes water and your toes curl each time his thick cockhead rams against your sweet spot and causes you to see stars and dig your teeth into your lower lip to keep from crying out loud enough for someone outside the room to hear.

And yes, you know it's a terrible idea. That you should have saved your maidenhood for your future husband. That you're risking everything, your honor and your future, when you feel those ropes of royal seed spurting against your cervix and into your womb and very possibly putting a bastard in your belly.

But how could you have possibly said no to the handsome Crown Prince and those captivating blue eyes that look at you like you're something wonderful, something precious, something more than a servant who scrubs floors and empties chamber pots? When he's kissing the side of your face so sweetly and gasping out a declaration of love as he's fucking that royal seed back into you?

You can't bring yourself to regret it, even when you're soon back to washing down the windows outside of the room where Satoru is now dining with his family, sipping tea from cups expensive enough to keep you fed for an entire year. Not even when you feel that familiar trickle of his seed spilling out of you and pooling in your undergarments, and see those same blue eyes now momentarily flicker over to you with an utterly blank expression that betrays no recognition whatsoever.

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sinnabum45 · 1 month

Text

"Father"

HC: I hc that Miles really did love Manfred like a 2nd father, maybe not as much as Gregory, but still. Miles at this point spent more of his life with Manfred than his own father. When he seeks comfort, he sees Manfred. He may have pictures of his dad, but it's different than seeing him in person-the memories of Gregory are faded. Miles lost both of his fathers and the memories of his life with the von Karmas are forever tainted by the man who supported him at his worst. And he had to struggle with this all alone for a long time.

Also, imagine how Franziska feels now that it's come to light that her beloved papa was the one who hurt her precious little brother. The boy she tried to protect. The betrayal and guilt-- Miles doesn't blame her at all, but she still feels hurt by the whole thing. Her entire life also shattered after this case. Now they're left trying to make sense of what happened and move on. These siblings make me cry EVERYTIME 😭 ( I can't stop thinking about them 😢)

Links to help Palestine and other resources! 🇵🇸

#ace attorney #miles edgeworth #manfred von karma #gregory edgeworth #franziska von karma #i guess I'll tag the others #but they're only there for one panel 🏃‍♀️#maya fey #dick gumshoe #phoenix wright #lotta hart #larry butz #art #digital art #comic #fanart #SinnaArt

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httpsghostie · 9 months

Note

ok this is the video i mentioned, like imagine könig in this, i want to tie his hands and feet and make a mess out of him :((( imagine him crying out of frustration that he can't touch you (and he makes a mental note to punish you as soon as he gets released), so overwhelmed and trying to scape the entire time, so cute :(( you make the context, my brain isn't creative enough to think of how we end up in this situation. sorry if i misspelled something and again i love your blog it's amazing !!*:! also i'm sorry if this make you unconfortable somehow idk?

Enemy pt 1

pt 2

TW: porn

and I strike again with another questionable scenario

this is just... I... uhm... well...

there's no such thing as crossing the limits with me I'm a fucking whore

Summary: you interrogate an enemy soldier in a different approach.

Word Count: 1,5k

Warnings: smut, König x female!reader, they're both a bit crazy, male overstimulation, edging, knife play (if you squint), glove kink, no use of y/n

masterlist

Recently, your team had brought an enemy for interrogation, and you were the one assigned to get the job done.

"Make him talk, we don't care how." They said.

You got in the cell, hands sweating nervously as you saw the man you were dealing with. You've met before, a long while ago, and he didn't change a thing. He's still arrogant, like he wasn't far within a hostile environment, his hands and feet in chains, in a cell that has never seen daylight. The only thing in the room being the chair he was sitting on and a fucked up mattress.

You crossed your arms as you entered the room, not knowing if he was able to recognize you from the mask you wore. But your voice, he could never forget the sweet melody of your voice moaning his name a few years ago when he fucked you senseless at an abandoned house, in the middle of war.

It happened fast, you were sweeping the place and he was there. You missed your shot when he pushed your gun upwards and tried to strangle you, but soon backed down when saw you were a defenseless damsel in distress.

And you found yourself pressed against a wall being fucked by an enemy soldier, just because he felt like it.

You try to shake off the thoughts that creep on your dirty brain, and as soon as the door gets locked behind you, his body relaxes on the chair.

"So, we meet again." He cleared his throat. Pretentious prick.

"König." You start, raising your eyebrows. "I guess you won't be using your free will to tell me what the code is, will you?" You walked towards him, he was still tall, even when he was sunk on the chair with his legs spreaded.

"My free will has better things to do than to hand out codes like candy at a parade. I prefer keeping my secret to myself. Yours too." You could feel the creepy smile that lit up his face. How could you ever do that to yourself?

"They won't believe you." You shrug, slowly walking from side to side on the cell, arms behind your back, your heavy boots hitting the concrete floor. "They're too busy torturing your general for info." His eyes widened and he straightened himself on the chair, tensing up. "So, what are you hiding, pretty boy?"

He flexed his muscles in response, trying to get rid of the chains that kept him restrained. But the praise, coming from your lips, it was impossible for him to contain an enormous wave of heat that destroyed any ounce of self respect he had. He lowered his head, but looked at you through his eyebrows.

"I assume we'll have to do this the hard way then." You took the knife from your belt and stood in front of him, running it along his collarbone and stopping at his chin, lifting it up. "Such a beautiful pair of eyes you got, 'wonder what you hide behind that hood." You say, lifting the fabric of his mask.

"Gonna use flirting as your way to get around this?" He chuckles, looking away.

"I'm offended." You fake a gasp and hold a hand to your chest. "Wasn't that what you did to me?" You're just able to get a laugh from him.

"You wanted that to happen." He looked at your eyes again.

"And you're wanting, too." You stick the knife in the wooden chair between his legs and he jolts in panic.

"Fuck, are you insane?" He looks down and at you again, and you laugh.

You crouch in front of him, spreading his legs further, and laying your elbow on his thigh. The tip of your finger touches the end of your knife and plays with it, watching how his thighs tense.

"I might be." You say, looking at him. "But I always get what I want."

"You're fucking crazy." He chuckles and looks to the sides, trying to contain his embarrassment as a bulge slowly shows up on his pants.

You take the knife from the chair and put it on your belt again, moving your gloved hands towards his belt and pulling him up. He's heavy as fuck, it was almost impossible to do it if he didn't stand up, towering over you.

You pushed him back, and because of his feet tangled in chains, he fell back on the mattress, bucking his hips up as you eagerly unfastened his belt.

"You weren't this straightforward when we first met." He chuckled and looked up.

"What can I say? 'Guess your taste is addictive." You remembered the bitter taste of his release when he ruthlessly fucked your throat back in that house.

You pulled his hard member out, lifting your mask just below your nose to spit on it, and he whines as you wrap your gloved hand around it, jerking it up and down slowly. He pleads, trying to fuck your hand, but you pull away chuckling and he sighs.

"Let's make a deal, shall we?" You ran your finger along his length, stopping at his tip.

"I won't talk." He gritted his teeth.

"Then you won't cum." You give him a sly smile as you pull the mask down again.

Your hand grabs his dick, jerking it roughly, and he can't help but whine as he tries to get away from your touch. He's so desperate it's pathetic, and he moans as you set the pace.

He tries to move, to get away from the chains, he thinks about how bad he wants to be free and pin you down on the mattress and fuck you until you're begging him to stop, knowing he wouldn't stop until he was satisfied.

Your touch becomes too much on him, almost too harsh to bear, and he cries as he feels his cock throbbing as hard as it could, knowing that he wouldn't last long if you kept going this way.

And suddenly, as he's about to cum, you pull away again, leaving him whimpering at the sudden loss of contact.

"Fuck, why did you do this?" He whines desperately.

"It's simple, you give me what I want and I'll give you what you want." You shrug, grabbing his member once again and going fast on it. He cries, feeling his high approaching once again.

"I'm not talking." He shakes uncontrollably.

"Aww, stubbornness only turns me on." You say. He's too overwhelmed to think about an answer, trying to get away from your grip.

You feel his body tensing up again, his hips bucking up, chasing his so wanted release. Your hand keeps its pace, but your other one blocks his tip just as he's about to cum, watching his vein twitch. He's crying and cursing at you in german, his heavy balls filled with cum as he was being denied once again.

"Come on, I'm not gonna let go until you tell me, and it's only gonna hurt more." You say, letting his dick fall back to his stomach, and one of your hands grabs his balls. He's still shaking, completely overstimulated, and you use your thighs to make him stay put.

"I only know part of it, alright?" It comes out high pitched as his voice cracks, you could feel the pain in his eyes. "The general too, and your team is going to need more than just us for the full code if you want to stop that damn operation." It's almost impossible to understand his german accent at how fast he speaks, his chest rising up and down.

His cock twitches, his tip was red and leaking, and you decide that's probably all that he's going to say, and plus you needed him for his part of the code.

"That's it, please, maus, it's hurting." He cries. Maybe he deserved to get his award now.

"Such a good boy you are, huh, see? It wasn't hard." You stroke his dick, the praise enough to make him see stars.

As you increase your movements, he becomes a whimpering mess once again, and deep in his brain he's thinking of how pretty you would look with his cock buried in your pussy, and how bad he will ruin you once he has his hands on you.

It's too much to take, he's trembling, making it hard for you to keep him still. And he can't hold back any longer, his thick cum spouting on your gloves and his shirt.

"Maus, please, stop." He pleads, his body giving in. You clean your gloves on his clothed thighs and get up, leaving him there, covered in white. You stand there, looking down at him and his softening length, and slowly walk towards the door. "Where are you going? Don't leave me like this."

You knock two times on the door and one of your men unlocks it. You open it, looking back at König, still there, still messy, still panting and angry, spitting out as you leave.

"You're gonna pay for this."

#cod mw2 #cod fanfic #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #cod x reader #konig x reader #konig #konig call of duty #konig mw2 #konig cod #könig mwii #könig smut #könig x reader #könig cod #könig #könig mw2 #könig call of duty

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nouvxllev · 6 days

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CAN I DO A REQUEST..

Jenna x Reader

Summary: R gets high off their ass after an argument w J, J gets home (xtra tired) w R drunkkkafff, but even in a drunken state, R still treats J like a literal princess, no matter the circumstance they're in cuz R loves J sm

LOVELOVELOVE YOUR WRITING SM.

-🦦

i (do)nt care!

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Gn!Reader

Summary: request!! ^^

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: literally drinking tears away, on the verge of an alcoholic and stressed out reader, readers the sweetest but also dorkiest, bittersweet stuff but the author is trying to sound funny above most of it

a/n: one of my recognizable anons, thank you for requesting!!! APPRECIATE YOU SMMM

masterlist.

You're a shitty person at times, like having quips come flying out of your mouth like a 7th grade asshole. You don't know where they come from, but they came from something like maybe a stressful week.

Like people not knowing when and how to shut the fuck up, angry customers with blonde hair and a penchant for that pixie-cut hairstyle pestering you all day because you allegedly forgot their order as if you weren't new to the whole running a coffee shop thing while on a minimum wage!

The internet seriously romanticized it too much, it's becoming a hassle to know which job to take when all you want is something relaxing and pays well.

Job hunting was a pain in the ass more than you are.

But then there's that lovely and caring girlfriend of all that makes it all bearable even if you're on the brink of insanity. The one who makes everything okay with literally just her presence. If there were a worldwide contest for the best and most understanding girlfriend, you knew Jenna would win it hands down.

You'd sooner try to stop a bullet train with your bare hands than even hurt her in the slightest. You loved her all too much to even do so.

But somehow in your own fucked up, seriously-like-actually-what-the-actual-fuck-were-you-thinking way, you managed to mess that up too.

You had an argument with Jenna as soon as you walked through the door the both of you shared. (It was because she accidentally broke your Minecraft bed and now it wasn't placed beside her. Again, you were stressed, and everything piled up. Even if it's dumb ones.)

You still remember the sound of her voice, heartbreaking is all you could say. (Again, dumb argument. Why did you even bring it up as if it was some huge problem?)

So now you're here. Drinking all your sorrows away like it would magically bring Jenna close and sing some we are the world shit for the rest of your living lives and kiss.

It was moments like these when you question if you were dropped on your head as a baby multiple times and no one even bothered to tell you.

I mean, arguing over a Minecraft bed? Seriously? Maybe you should take up lobotomy without anesthesia.

You still remember saying, 'Fine! Go away and see if I fucking care!' like something out of a bad soap opera and then she actually went away.

And you do care. Very much so.

It's safe to say you spent 30 minutes crying on the floor before picking your ass up to get a cab and come up with a dangerous coping mechanism before you eventually spotted a bar and decided you'd start drinking.

And of course, being that one person who never drank before in their entire life without having to chase it all down with water the soon it hits your tongue, it tasted bitter.

The bar was quiet with a hint of peoples voices going up and down alot, screaming alot, and the occasional drunkard barging in with their work attire.

You'd like to think that you're none of these people, but your the person who argued with literally the love of your life that you vowed to never hurt over something so dumb and tried drinking it all away.

"Ffffuck..." you murmured to yourself. Your eyes burned like hell, that was a nice addition to a headache.

Your head was down on the counter, your fingers gripping the shot glass as if it was your last moment on earth.

"You've ordered two bottles of whiskey and a fuck ton of tequila shots in the past hour, something wrong?"

Let's see, I've been fighting sleep as if I've disrespected my ancestors, job hunting is literally chewing me like I'm flavored bubblegum, tired, stressed, and most importantly, I managed to upset my one and only girlfriend who only gave me nothing but pure happiness and love! So, I'm fucking not, thanks so much for asking!

But you can't say that to someone who's also working minimum wage at a bar in New York. Living in New York is hell enough, dealing with fucked up customers like you is already going to be the next problem.

Because what can you really say to someone who's just trying to do their job? They don't need to hear about your self-inflicted drama.

You hear the bartender sigh. Not unlikely because you've probably been groaning and whining for the past few minutes.

"Let me guess, gotten to a fight with your significant other?"

How in the hell did he know that!?

Your eyes widened, immediately sitting up straight. "Holy shit, you're a wizard!" By the way your voice slurred and literally no one on earth would have that as their first thought, you're drunk.

The bartender chuckled, cleaning off another class and chucking it in the sink. "Not quite. Just seen my fair share of broken hearts. Kind of comes with the job."

You shake your head, "Nope," you popped the P, "definitely a wizard."

"Wanna tell me about them?" He placed another shot glass your way, "On the house, juice, though. You shouldn't be drinking anymore."

Taking the glass of juice, you swirl it around absentmindedly with your hand perched on top of the table and carrying the weight of your head. People say don't talk to strangers, but they never really said to spill your guts over to them.

With a sigh you down it all.

"Her name's…" Oh, right. She's an actress.

You really shouldn't be going around telling people you're literally with America's Idol when you kept your relationship with her private until she's ready to go public.

"Her name is, uhm, Jenny." Fuck, she's gonna kill you if you tell her this story. But it does put a very stupid smile on your face.

"Pretty name."

Your eyes lit up like never before. You were passionate for her, how could you not? "She's pretty, very pretty—you wouldn't know how to describe it yourself, you'd have to write verses upon verses to."

"Have you?"

"I'm still writing. Everyday."

The bartender nodded with a slight smile to his lips.

You stand up straighter. "She's this—talented person with one of the most dangerously charming brown eyes that resembles a nebula. Her smile, oh—her smile is one of the most incredible things to witness. She could make a devil weep and laugh with her, it'll make them regret their sins in an instant." Your voice was warm, clear, not even a trace of drunkenness whenever you're talking about her.

"It's not just her looks, or her smile, or whatever, she has a brilliant mind you could never dissect. Tears were never a challenge for her, she's brave, braver than anyone I've ever seen. She's a kind and romantic soul, an old one at that, but romantic nonetheless. Not just to me, but to everyone around her. She cares for everyone around her." You didn't notice you started crying halfway through.

"Dreaming was never a problem when I'm around her, though it felt like reality was greater than anything I've ever slept in. She's just the most gorgeous and incredible girl. She sees right through me, through everything, but she still loves me despite all my flaws and fuck-ups."

You pause. "But tonight, I got us into an argument so stupid, like so stupid and then I burdened everything I was feeling on her. Before I knew it, I yelled some things at her that I didn't really mean and she was out the door."

You'd think you'd be fine after literally spilling everything out, but no, you just slump back again in defeat like some pathetic hopeless romantic loser.

You facepalm yourself. "Give me a bottle."

"You shouldn't be—"

"I'll pay you 100$ no change needed, just please give me a bottle." You were acting like one of those drunkards you see on TV shows where the character gets horrendously fucked over.

One of the all time low for you, you've really outdid yourself.

You hear the bartender sigh and place another bottle of whiskey. "Business is business."

In one go, or maybe one shot glass, you were back to words stumbling and your brain feeling like fizz.

"All I know is I screwed up big time, and now I'm sitting here feeling like the world's biggest idiot for doing something like that to literally the love of my life!"

"Well, is she—"

It happened in a flash.

Or rather it happened in a second by how fast your mood changed to serious to straight up bawling your eyes out and gripping the bartenders collar.

"What the hell do I do, John!? Is your name even John!?" You cried, even breaking down and making a mess of yourself in front of the population of this bar.

"ImessedthefuckupandIdon'tevenknowifshesgonnaforgivemeohmanwhatthehelldoIdo!?" You swayed him back and forth, it's amazing how he isn't calling for security and escorting you out.

"OKAY, OKAY! Calm down, shit!" He immediately grabs your hands and gently pries your fingers from his shirt and sits you back down.

"I feel like the—" you hic "—worlds biggest asshole and my girlfriend thinks that too!

"She's—"

"I still love her with all my heart! I'll do anything to be with her again, I'm so fucking serious, anything I—!"

"She's right behind you, man!"

You stop.

You turn around.

"Oh, shit."

You murmured. It was like your brain was stumbling on a delicate thread of soberness and drunkenness. Jenna looked like the most finest pair of blobs.

Jenna looks tired, exhausted, stressed. Her eyes are glistening with tears, and her nose carries a reddish tint to it. You didn't even notice that she was wearing your shirts with one of your jackets.

"Oh, love!" You come crashing down on her as you stood up, embracing Jenna into a warm hug.

"Y/n, you're crushing me—"

Jenna used to love your hugs, even if they were totally crushing her. Oh, you were so fucked.

"Sorry, sorry," you mumble, stepping back slightly but your hands lingered on her shoulders, offering a small massage to her stress. "Is that you, Jenna?"

She looks up at you. There were visible dark circles under her eyes and glint of past tears that trickled down her face.

"I'm... I'm so sorry, Jennaaaaauuhh!" you cry out, her name stretching as you bawled your eyes out in front of her, words tumbling out of you before you can even stop them.

"I didn't mean anything, or any of it! I was stressed, people were so mean to me, but that isn't a valid excuse for me to just..." you blew a raspberry for dramatic effect, "blow it up on you. Please don't ignore my hugs, you always adored my hugs! Oh, God, Jenna, I'm so sorry!"

You were still talking before Jenna could even get one word out, "I love you literally sooo so so much I was a fool for even—hey, how'd you know I was here? Fuck, you shouldn't be here! I can't let you know that I was drinking, turn around!"

"Y/n," she sighs, reaching up to cup your cheek in her hand, "Let's just go home. You've been here for an hour."

You nod frantically, not knowing if that was meant to be as an I forgive you gesture or an I will tear your limbs from muscle to tendon and taxidermy you into the most horrendous positions after we get home gesture.

"I'll get the door for you!" You shout while stumbling over your own feet as you rush to get the door.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time the two of you got home safely without you trying to insist taking over the steering wheel when you're completely blacked out of your mind, you're still clinging onto Jenna as if she was the one going to fall on her own feet.

"Y/n, what are you doing?"

Jenna looks up at you, your whole figure sprawled out in front of her like a starfish.

You turn around at her like some superhero who came to save the day, vision blurry from the light. "The moon looks suuuper close tonight. What if you'll get burnt!?"

"That's the porch lamp, Y/n."

"No, it is not—!" You look up. Oh, shit it is.

"Oh." You take Jenna's hand, giggling away your blatant stupidity with a goofy grin, "God, you're so smart, can't believe you're my girlfriend."

But Jenna just laughs. It's everything to you, a sweet symphony blessed with those close with her.

"I like 'ur laugh, Jenna." You whisper to her, hands in your pockets while you watch her struggle with the keys.

She doesn't respond but with a nod. Your heart sinks for her—she's that exhausted and it's all because of you!

Finally, she manages to get the door open with your heart stuck in your throat while Jenna leads the both of you inside. The house was warm, toasty, but it left remnants of your argument with her.

You steel a glance at her, her eyes cast downward while she struggles with her own jacket.

"Oh—here! I'll get your coat," you offer, your hands trembling slightly with your own coat hanging from your forearm. "Annnd I'll take care of your clothes—wait, did you have dinner yet? I can whip up something for you!"

Without Jenna's judgement, you hurry up with a tail stuck between your own two feet to Jenna's closet, throwing everything out and getting some nice and comfy clothes for her. Not knowing you went to your closet instead of hers.

"Jenna!" You run towards her, pretty fast for a drunkard without falling over, "Shit everything looks like hell for me—anyway, what do you want for dinner? I can literally make anything, just say the word!"

Jenna still stands in the doorway, looking up at you. "You can't cook dinner, love, you're drunk."

She called you love! Yes!!

"I'm not drunk. I don't have my hiccups anymore, my vision is not that impaired and I can walk perfectly fine. You just saw me run!"

"You mistook a porch lamp for a moon and tried to protect me, Y/n."

Noooo! Back to the first name basis already!?

"Well—"

"You're sweating even if the air condition is turned on, your eyes look red so is your face."

"Okay, maybe—"

All you heard was a sigh before Jenna's lips met yours. Soft and delicate, it was the effect she had on you. You can melt like winter bathed in sunlight for the first time by the touch of her lips on yours.

"Earth to Y/n?"

Your eyes were still closed even after she pulled away, what an idiot you must've looked like.

You blink.

"Oh—oh, that's me. I'm Y/n." You cleared your throat. "Here, your clothes!" You bounced back almost immediately, but you swear your heart is still fluttering like crazy.

Jenna took the neatly folded pile of clothes on your hands, "Let's just take a shower, okay—"

You're practically bouncing with energy and utmost passion to help out your girlfriend with a simple sentence coming out of her mouth. "I'll draw a bath for you! Even scented candles and bubbles—wait, let's get you on the couch first."

Jenna smiles at you. Oh, how you've missed her. "You know, you don't have to do this, baby." She murmurs as she makes her way to the couch with your hand between hers, sinking into the soft cushions with a relieved sigh like she was a plushie.

"But I want to," you respond softly, handing her a bottle of water and arranging pillows for extra comfort. "It's the least I can do."

Fuck, she's too adorable. How in the hell did you manage to get into an argument with this perfect girl?

"I'll be right back, baby. Just relax, okay?" You reassure her, giving her a quick peck on the forehead before eagerly skipping to the bathroom like your life depended on giving your girlfriend the most luxurious bath of all.

It took a long while before you got everything in place. It was all 50% work and 50% taking a rest because you almost tripped and fell into the bathtub, eaten shit on the floor and the bath bomb, mistook rose petals for blood, almost dropped your phone into the water, and took numerous breaks to calm your vision and heartrate down.

Returning to the living room, you find Jenna lying down with her eyes shut, looking cozy and content.

Yet she was still tired.

Visible traces of exhaustion were etched on her face, her eyebrows are slightly creased even in her REM cycle, and her hand is curled into a fist as she constantly twists and turns in her sleep.

You wince at the sight.

You approach her quietly, gently brushing a strand of hair away from Jenna's face. You watch her breathing even out, her chest rising to her breaths. She looked dangerously ethereal.

"Y/n?"

How long have you been staring at her for?

You smiled, getting into the couch with her, wrapping your arms around her soft body, hoping that it felt like comfort to her like how she felt like undeniable solace to you. She was cold, very cold, but you couldn't help wrap your arms around her.

"Hey." You murmur, planting a soft kiss to her neck, "You okay? I drew a bath for you."

"Just for me?"

"Mhmm, why?"

"Aren't you going to take one? You reek of alcohol, baby."

"Harsh."

She laughs at you, sitting up and pulling you along with her. "Take a shower with me, there's enough space for two."

You smirk at her, "Ooooh, sexy."

Jenna could almost burn holes in your face, rolling her eyes with the same smile as yours, "We are not having sex, baby."

"Oh." You wince as you get up, taking Jenna along with you, "But seriously?"

"Seriously, you reek."

"And I thought you love me!"

"I do, just not the smell."

By the time you both got into the shower, you were marveling at Jenna's figure.

She seemed almost too flawless, simply too gorgeous not to appreciate fully. You could almost cry at the sight (which you did). She was too perfect not to.

Jenna turned to you, her wet hair cascading from her shoulders as you sat behind her, massaging her shoulders to relieve any stress and tension in her body. "You alright, baby? You're... crying."

"Sorry," You wiped your tears away with a light laugh, "You're too perfect, how could I not!?"

Jenna leaned into your touch, letting the warm water and scented candles warm her spirit as well as heart, the tension melting away under your gentle touch. "You're pretty perfect yourself, Y/n."

"Compared to you, I'm no one."

"Now that's the dumbest thing you've ever said."

You paused in your ministrations. "I made you cry, Jenna. Over something so stupid." You let your arms fall to her waist, wrapping them in a tight hug as you bring her closer to you, burying your head on the crook of her neck. "'M sorry. I shouldn't have blown up everything on you. I didn't mean anything."

Jenna sighed, her hands finding yours cuddled around her and intertwining each finger with hers. "I know you're just tired—"

"You are too. More tired than me but you never harmed me like how I harmed you." You whisper to her, your breath shaking, "I'll do better, Jenna. I'm sorry."

She hummed, turning her head to plant a delicate kiss on your cheeks. "I forgive you, Y/n. We all have our moments, you aren't any out of the ordinary."

You hummed softly against her skin.

"Also, please don't go out drinking again, okay? It's gonna turn out a bad habit for you."

"You smoke, Jenna. We aren't that different."

Jenna narrowed her eyes, "I will drown you, Y/n."

You laugh, placing a kiss on the corners of her lips. "I'm just joking!"

You continued to massage Jenna's shoulders, feeling your own stress and tension melt away as you kiss every patch of her skin.

"How come you still treat me so well even when you're drunk?" Jenna adjusted her position as she nestled between your legs, her own drawing up to her chin.

You scoff, "For the second time, I'm not drunk and I love you too much not to."

"That's a stupid reason."

"Excuse me?"

"What were exactly your exact words... Oh, 'Go away and see if I fucking care?'"

"You know I didn't mean it!"

"I do. But I wanna hear you say it."

You couldn't see Jenna's exact face, but you know she's wearing a shit-eating grin with the most stupidest and cutest dimples around her smile.

"I do care for you, Jenna. So much. I was a dumbass for saying that, a dick, even."

Jenna laughed, leaning in to rest on your shoulder, her hand gently guiding your head to face towards her.

She pressed a soft kiss to your lips. "I love you."

"Well, I care for you." You kissed her back.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: im surprised that this was so short also im back! my schedule is hectic and very stressful but im still alive for the most part

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x gnreader #jenna ortega x gn!reader #jenna ortega

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gglitch1dd · 1 month

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MAKE IT MAKE SENSE. WHY IS IZUKU SO DELICIOUS AS A DAD?!?? + HIS BABY FEVER THAT DOESN'T DISAPPEAR?

There's just something about a tiny green haired baby being carried around the house by the most powerful man in all of Japan. A little bit of Dad!Zuku with his sons but they're still babies pls??

FINALLY! PEOPLE SPEAKING MY LANGUAGE! Izuku as a father is the sexiest thing that man could do. I changed this a bit so that its new dad Izuku with his wifey and Toshinori. Personally, there's nothing more attractive than a man who's sure in his identity and in his family.

This prompt is based off of the song, "Dear Theodosia", "Your Forever- Reprise" and the following TikTok video:

I'm so Blessed

Warning: DOMESTIC CUTE AND FLUFFNESS

You opened your eyes at the sounds of crying. Your newborn son was crying as he lay in the cot beside your bed. Your eyes opened, the parental instincts kicking in. The large warm hands that were wrapped around you shifted as your husband woke up as well from the nap you were both taking while your son had slept as well.

A soft kiss came to the side of your head making you smile. "I'll get him." He assured you, his voice deep and laced with sleep. You hummed in gratitude as you stayed warm and snuggled up in bed as your husband got up from where he was behind you.

You watched with half lidded eyes as Izuku walked over to the cot right next to your side of the bed. He carefully reached his large hands into the cot, undoing the swaddle that your son was in. Izuku chuckled. "Big stretch." He said amusedly, watching as Toshinori's arms moved up and he kicked his feet briefly. Izuku picked him up mid stretch making the baby whine. He carried Toshinori in one arm, easily unbothered by the few month old baby.

It wasn't too long ago that when your son was born he was light enough to fit in Izuku's hand and be carried by that alone. Your husband used to be so careful with him, and still was. You shifted as Izuku resumed his place next to you, laying back in bed as he held your son. The little boy let out soft cries as his eyes were closed.

Your husband let out soft shushes as he held Toshinori against his chest for a second. "It's alright, buddy. It's okay." Carefully, Izuku lifted up Toshinori to sniff him. He shook his head, noticing that his diaper was fine. He also couldn't be tired considering he just woke up from a nap.

You sat yourself up. "Hand him to me." You motioned to Izuku.

He carefully handed over the small baby to you. You smiled down at your only son with your husband with an adoring look. "Toshi, don't cry." You said softly as you moved to pull down one side of your oversized shirt that was Izuku's. You carefully guided the little one to latch onto your breast, having gotten used to the action by now. At the action, Toshinori quietened down as he got his needs met. You chuckled. "You were just hungry, weren't you?" You asked softly.

You carefully moved him up and down slowly in your arms as you held him, A soft hum left your throat as you looked down at Toshinori. He had easily become your entire world with Izuku, the both of you gravitating around this new life you created. He was small and tiny and needed you so much.

You couldn't dream of a life without him.

Izuku carefully moved you to lean against him. He watched the both of you with warm green eyes. It was his new favourite thing to do ever since becoming a father. Just watching you bond with your son was something he loved. The way Toshinori just had a way of looking up at the both of you with so much warm child unconditional love. It made his heart ache.

"He's up early." You said softly.

Izuku nodded with a hum. Toshinori had only slept for a little over an hour when normally he would take two or three hour naps at a time. "He wanted a mid-nap snack." Izuku shrugged, making you giggle at his explanation.

Your husband was right however, because not long after, your son seemed full and was idly just enjoying his time in your arms. He flexed his soft chubby hands as he stared up at you and your husband.

Izuku carefully moved to take his son out of your arms. He smiled a broad one on his freckled face. Emerald eyes that held nothing but love and devotion stared right back at Toshinori. He held Toshinori in his arms, moving to set him down to lay there. "You are my son." He let out quitely, almost in awe that it was a fact. Toshinori let out a coo as he stared up at his father with a small smile of his own. Izuku chuckled as he nodded his head. "Yes you are. You are my son. You are smart, you are kind, you are handsome."

You moved to snuggle up to your husband side, not saying anything as he spoke down to his only son in his arms. You couldn't help but stare at him with warm eyes, finding him speaking over your child such an attractive thing.

"You are the son of Midoriya Izuku and Midoriya Y/N. And I promise you Toshinori, I'm gonna do everything for you. My father was never around but, I swear I'll be here for you. I'll bleed and fight for you just so that I can pass on a better world for you. But I can tell," Izuku let out a soft scoff. "You won't need it. You're going to be just alright." He assured the little baby that stared up at his father with wide eyes that seemed so entranced with Izuku's very being. Izuku chuckled with tears in his eyes.

You watched your husband with warm eyes. He had never looked more attractive than he did right now. He was shirtless, his large figure of soft thick muscles were relaxed as he held a baby that was smaller than his forearm in his embrace. He was so big and strong and yet when he looked at this little boy in his arms, he seemed almost so soft and gentle. His soft curly hair was still in a mess from the nap but it suited him so dearly.

"I'm so blessed." At the sound of his voice, you turned to look at him. He turned to look at you with tears brimming his eyes. "To think..." He let out in soft disbelief. "To think I'd be here right now. Married to the most beautiful woman in the world who even gave me a son and takes such good care of him. I have everything I could ever want right here." He leaned over to put his forehead against yours making your smile broaden. "Thank you." He whispered.

-Glitch1d

#midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #mha x y/n #izuku x reader #midoriya x y/n #izuku midoriya #dad midoriya #dad izuku midoriya #dilf deku #dilf midoriya #dilf izuku midoriya #deku x reader #deku fluff #izuku midoriya fluff #mha izuku

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actual-changeling · 8 months

Text

this one is thanks to a post by @thegroovyfool because she is very much correct - we do not talk about aziraphale's "i need you" enough.

so once again, with a deep breath and a sigh, welcome back to alex's unhinged meta corner, where i tear apart the confession scene frame by frame. i'm gonna say, watching this particular clip over and over and focusing on aziraphale's face almost took me out.

let's get into it.

first, how about a little look at our starting point. (any blurry screencaps are due to a LOT of movement on michael's part rip)

crowley is very pointedly facing away from him, he turned after aziraphale said "we can be together - angels!", presumably because being offered exactly what he wants in the one way he cannot have it fried his brain, cause besties it surely fried mine.

aziraphale on the other hand looks openly desperate, which is why he says "i need you." more on that later. let's have a look at how he says it, because michael "microexpressions" sheen is putting in the work.

to me, he seems close to tears, his eyes are glistening in that specific "i'm about to cry my eyes out" way i know from looking in the mirror while crying

he is trying to get crowley to listen to him and to turn around. he wants crowley to face him, which is something most people tend to want during an argument. talking to someone who is not looking at you tends to make someone frustrated and like they're not hearing you/do not care about what you have to say.

aziraphale looks close to despair, his i need you is a plea to crowley to come with him. he is opening himself up not just emotionally but physically, too.

he slightly leans forward, his arms are raised and seem to both slightly grasp for crowley and point towards his chest/heart for emphasis. the pure pain visible on his face knocks the air out of me every single time i look at it.

aziraphale is admitting to needing him, something he has never done before, hell, he has told him the exact opposite on numerous occasions. i don't need you. and while they both knew it was a) a lie and b) a way for him to deal with his conflicting emotional standpoints and cognitive dissonance, it still hurt crowley every. single time.

crowley was there for him no matter what, he knows aziraphale needs him but he came back and remained at his side even when he was pushed away and more or less openly insulted. he endured it all.

aziraphale saying i need you now is pretty much a slap in the face but also what crowley needs to hear. as with everything that happens during the entire conversation, the timing is fucked up and they're talking past each other.

in my opinion, that is why crowley does not react.

only when aziraphale turns spiteful and starts questioning his understanding (aka calling him stupid without outright saying it) does he re-enter the conversation.

aziraphale, however, is upset. now, i will put on my tinhat for just a second and turn up the insanity because there are two more things i want to talk about.

first, the little stutter at the beginning.

"i ngk - i need you."

my question is - why? why does he stumble over these words in particular when it does not happen with any other sentence? the only other time is right after crowley walks away with his "good luck", he stumbles over crowley's name.

so, in short, it happens when he is either caught off-guard or saying something incredible emotional.

and this, everyone, is where i go unhinged in my interpretation.

what if he initially did not want to say "i need you?" what if he was so caught up in getting crowley to stay/come with him that he did not think and almost confessed another three word sentence?

what if he was about to say "i love you" but stopped himself because no, that's too direct, they don't do that, they can't do that. it goes against EVERYTHING they have silently build over the last six thousand years. so he chokes on it. he chokes on it and instead he says "i need you" because it means the same thing.

i need you. don't leave me. come with me. be an us. go off together.

i forgive you. i love you.

they say it over and over again because that's the only way they can say it.

that is why aziraphale is so angry and upset after saying it. he told crowley he loves him, he needs him, and all he got in return was silence.

the funny part is that this code may have worked before, but it no longer does. crowley is too hurt to listen to what aziraphale is trying to tell him, and aziraphale is equally as hurt and also not listening anymore.

the funny part is that it stopped being about love and started being about sides again. my side, your side, our side. choose a side, choose our side, choose me.

the funny part is that beelzebub and gabriel told them what they need to do, i found something that mattered more to me than choosing sides.

#alex talks good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #good omens meta #ineffable divorce #this was spontaneous i saw the post and my brain went i need to do this right now #so i did #anyway if u disagree with my conclusions thats fine i disagree with my own theories often enough #otherwise fandom wouldnt be any fun

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netherfeildren · 11 months

Text

Kiss, Kiss, Kill, Kill!

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel is a long haul truck driver. One day he finds a pretty girl in a diner and decides he’d like to keep her.

Murder and sex ensue!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No outbreak; Graphic depictions of violence; Murder; Blood; Gore; Threat of SA; Impotence; Unprotected sex; Creampie; Loss of virginity; Virginity kink; Breeding kink; Spit kink; Rough sex; Pussy slapping; Dark!Joel; Mean!Joel (also kinda crazy and pathetic); Obsessive behavior; Possessive behavior; Discussions of suicidal ideations; Unreliable narrators; Alcoholism; Consensual non consent kind of (But not previously discussed - they're both into it tho); Use of misogynistic language; Grief

A/N: Hi :) Another one just bc I have no self control.

Parts of the narrative read a little disjointed and/or confusing. This is intentional. I was kind of trying something weird out here, I guess.

Word Count: 9.7K

Read on AO3

The first time Joel sees you, it’s a Thursday. His least hated day of the week, but not his favorite, for he doesn’t really have any favorite things anymore. Your eyes’d stunned him at that first look. They sparkled as if dusted with frost – speared him with an intensity that burned.

But no… that was a lie, and Joel is trying not to be such a liar anymore. He does have one favorite thing now. This middle-of-nowhere diner, this place where’d he’d found you.

The first time he’d actually talked to you, you’d interrupted his own stubborn, sour silence with a silence of your own. Different, agonizing, compared to your usual persistent fishing for his attention.

“What’re you doin’ out here in this wasteland, sweetheart?” Because you look sweet as that cherry pie you’re always trying to push on him.

“Been here my whole life.” It’s verging on evening, the sky gone to melancholy, and there’s a young girl with dark hair weeping on the shoulder of an older woman in the booth over. He wants to snap at her, demand to know what the fuck she could possibly have to cry over? He’s sure she mustn’t have a dead daughter like him, and so there really seems to be no reason for tears.

“No plans to leave?”

You shake your head, hum a little, set the coffee pot down on the edge of the table to pop a hip out and think on your answer. “Guess you could say I’m a little bit weak or scared, don’t know.”

“Doubt that,” a surprised laugh forced out of him. Entirely improbable, he knows this just by looking at you. “You’ve got eyes that seem as if they’ve never held fear within them in your entire life.” And he makes you laugh at that, head thrown back, throat rippling. The sound like the tolling of the bell indicating the start of the rest of his life.

When you’re done gifting him your laughter, you ask, “What about you? Why are you here?”

“My daughter died.” Plain.

Your eyes seem to shutter or flicker, something like a chimera about them, “When?”

“Two years ago.” He watches the crying girl and the old woman get up to go. And then the two of you are alone. You move to sit in the booth across from him. He’d been coming in here to see you for more than half that time since, and now, the first time the two of you are having an actual conversation, and this is what he’s decided to open with. But really, it’s the only story he has to tell anymore. He watches you watch him for a long moment, as though you’re searching for something within him, or mulling over what it is you want to say to him, the shift of your jaw from side to side as you chew on your words. He feels easily frightened now – fragile – and yet vibrantly malignant, at the same time. A juxtaposition on two opposite ends of the spectrum of good and not so good, or perhaps, verging on very, terribly bad, in the grocery store line of human morality. Two Joel’s at the start and end of the queue who could not seem to come to terms with one another. Enemies – they were enemies of each other. A Joel who’d once had a daughter, and a Joel who now did not. A Joel who’d pulled a trigger at his own temple, and one who’d never even considered such a thing. He draws his finger along the line of scar tissue at his temple.

For a long time he’d wanted to tear a hole in his world and escape, but he was no master of inventiveness. On the contrary, he found his attempt rather miserly – had short changed himself at the last moment and flinched. But perhaps, it had been for this reason – for you, to find you. He wishes he could peer inside your mind, crack open your skull and read everything you’re hiding away from him inside there. A violent thought, but you make him feel slightly violent, or – no, that’s not it – for Joel is already a violent man. It’s more that you pull a specific hue of violence out of him, incite it, like he needs to move, to howl, to claw at something, at you, scream and scream and scream to keep your undivided attention on him forever.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you say finally, voice quiet. “How old was she?”

His loss. That was a funny way of putting it. It had never felt like a loss. The word was too small. Four letters was not enough to describe what it really was. There was no word for what it felt like. An emaciation of his very self until he simply ceased to exist. Something that had sucked his soul, his heart, his brain out of his body, but they didnt feel lost. They felt destroyed, decimated, or like they had never existed. Sometimes the feeling left him confused, disoriented – this strange purgatory he’d been relegated to, it was like it had never happened in his mind sometimes, or like it had happened to a different man. Like that life with that beautiful little girl with the green eyes who’d had a father who loved her, who’d then died, had happened to someone else. Someone who wasn’t Joel. Like a war that had raged and raged for centuries, and now nothing was left in its wake. Only that terribly fraught reminder of a violence too grotesque for a human mind to conceive.

How could he miss something, wish for something so, so, so fucking desperately he’d peel his very skin from his body himself to get it back, but also feel like it didn’t belong to him anymore? Like it had never happened to him, like he remembered it out of his own body? A dream that belonged to someone else, and Joel’d only been told of it second hand. His mind was fractured now, he knew this. He wasn't right – broken or glued together the wrong way. His bones didn’t fit in his joints the way they were supposed to anymore. He was all wrong and ugly and fucked.

“She was twelve.”

“My whole family’s dead,” you say it almost casually, with a half shrug of your shoulders. “Is that why you started driving? To get away?”

He’s been a long haul truck driver for going on two years now. Started just after Sarah – needed to get away, to get lost. He didn’t enjoy it – he does not enjoy it. Not because the work is bad or boring or what have you, but because he doesn’t enjoy anything anymore. But it’s productive and pays well and… well, he does appreciate the solitude. There is that, at least. He’d been on the route from New Mexico to Washington for several months now, and it was fine. Occasionally, he’d head up to the Dakotas – not so fine, longer, harder trek, but he managed it. He preferred this one, preferred the darkness of the north west corner of the country. He never went further south than New Mexico, though. Absolutely never into Texas. He’d never go back there again.

“Sure… to get away.” He couldn’t be there anymore afterwards, had nothing left. “My neighbor, Anna, she’s got a teenager, Ellie. Sweet kid. Weird kid,” he laughs fondly, remembering the two of them. “The kid was friends with my daughter, Sarah. And after everything– well, after everything, Anna made sure they both stuck around. Didn’t let me shut myself away the way I wanted to,” ill-shaven recluse, confused, fractured, “They’re good people. You’d like them, I think. They’re… they’re my friends.” They were another reason he kept doing the driving, he liked to send money back to Anna and Ellie. He knew they didn’t need it, didn’t want it, but he had to. He needed to feel like he was still taking care of someone, contributing to someone’s well being. It was just part of who he was.

“I’m sure I would.”

He watches your silent enrapture as you listen to him tell you of his pseudo life. After a while he’d realized that was all he’d started doing, making his way back to you, to this diner where you work. A sad place for ugly men to stop in on a pause from their interminable journeys and lay eyes on an angel. He hadn’t even really realized that’s what he was purposely doing or that it’d become a pattern. He just needed something to see at the end of the tunnel, a light to look towards when he was lost in the darkness. That’s what you are, a single flickering light in the abyss of darkness he exists in now.

You’re small – tiny compared to Joel’s own hulking size. He thinks he could break you, easily, if he isn’t careful, if he so felt like it. And you were – you are so fucking pretty. He thinks of you so often. Almost as often as he thinks of his dead daughter which might seem wrong or strange, but it’s really nothing more than the two opposite ends of a spectrum of perfect beauty that he’s known within his lifetime that now he cannot reach either end of. Sarah – dead, forever out of reach. And you. Too perfect for consideration, too beautiful and good for these monstrous hands of his. The thing he’s become in his grief is not worthy of a gorgeous creature like you. His existence post Sarah’s death had become some sort of apocalyptic dysphoria where the only monster here was Joel. But he does like to watch, and he does like to think of you. To come to your diner and sit and watch you serve coffee to your customers – the scum that muddles through here isn’t worthy of laying eyes on you – men like him. Sometimes, when he sits here silently, pretending to ignore you and not be entirely beguiled by you, he feels as if he has a purpose again, like the money for Anna and Ellie, getting to inconspicuously watch over you, make sure no one gives you a hard time gives him purpose. And when he goes, even though he never really wants to, he takes you with him in his mind through the long stretches of his hauls. When there are nothing but ghosts to keep him company. When thoughts of Sarah and that dead life become too overwhelming, he calls you to mind, plans his routes to make his way back to you.

You’re also fucking persistent – not giving him the chance to wallow away in his silence and brooding. He was rude at first, gruff and unresponsive and wouldn’t ever acknowledge your queries of, How’s it going today, and, Oh, back again I see. Sometimes he wanted to snap and just spit the truth at you, ‘course, I’m fuckin’ back, I’m here to see you, I’m obsessed with you. And rounds and rounds of, Can I get you another cup of coffee? The same as usual? You’d memorized his order. Pestered and pestered and pestered for his name until he’d finally ceded it to you, and, How ‘bout some cherry pie this time? After a while you’d gotten sick of his recalcitrant bullshit and just dropped off the piece of pie, slipping it onto the edge of the table and sliding away without a word or a half look back at him. He’d eaten the whole damn thing, savored it, and caught your sassy, little smirk after he’d finished. He’d wanted to bend you over the counter and spank your ass until you cried after that. He bets you’d taste as sweet as that pie, that if he slapped your cunt enough times he could get it red as a cherry. He bets you’d like that – that you’d like it a little rough, a little dirty, a little mean. You might look like an angel, but Joel’s seen the way you look at him, the way you follow him with your eyes, leaning against the counter, chin cupped in your small palm watching him eat his eggs and drink his coffee.

You want him.

But Joel is frightened – frightened and cowardly and not right, and as much as you look like an angel, he also worries you might have the ability to entice him into very, very bad things – to provoke him into depravity, even. There is a part of him, large or small given the day and the mood and the weather that he walks in here on, that has the rotten half of his mind whispering at the not-so-rotten half that he wants to defile and debase you, and that he’s pretty sure you’d like it if he did. He wants to fuck you full of his come and then watch it leak out of your used, gaping hole. Then he wants to lick you clean, kiss it all better so that he can do it all over again.

The first few times he’d stopped at your diner, he’d pretended he hadn’t even noticed you, would lie to himself in his mind and tell himself that he had no interest in a little thing like you. He had no interest in women, in making connections, in having conversations. Occasionally… well– no, not occasionally. Twice, it had happened twice now, when the urge had struck, the itch had become too persistent, and his hand not enough, he’d gotten a hooker. The first time he’d shut down completely, lost his hard on and not been able to finish. The second time… he’d finished. He might’ve even made the woman come, he hadn’t bothered to ask, but he thought he might have. Then he’d gone back to his truck and cried great heaving sobs. Like he’d said… not right, he wasn’t right anymore. Couldn’t even fuck a whore without blubbering like a baby. He’d wondered if perhaps his grief had made him impotent. That’d be funny. That type of funny thing that is also a humiliation… you know the sort?

But after a while, the lie had become too much of a farce, even for his own mind. He knew, from that first moment he’d walked in, and you’d spun around, a bright smile and chirpy, little voice telling him to sit anywhere you’d like, be right with you, mister, that he’d taken notice. More than notice. He’d put you in his pocket that day and had carried you with him in some way since. Like a stone chosen off the beach, washed up by the tide and deposited in the sand just for him to come across, or maybe like a fucking infection, like the plague, for he did not want this. He did not want to think of you. He did not want to think of anyone or anything. He wanted to be alone and without anything or anyone for the rest of his life. If he did not have anyone, if he remained alone, then he could never again experience that loss which was not truly a loss, but something much worse and devastating, and even, perhaps, a little hilarious, in that way that a hilarious thing can also sometimes be humiliating and shameful… there it is. A loss that is not a loss for it is a thing so devastating it becomes something else entirely. A humiliation to one’s very existence, a decimation, emaciation, all the things, all the things, and nothing at the same time.

His mind was wont to ramblings, on occasion now. Perhaps, incoherence, was the better word. Anxiety, as well, panic, tears. Couldn’t even fuck a hooker without weeping, howling, a few sobs.

He had wandered so far, and sometimes he thought, I want to go home, but of course, that home no longer existed. It had been put in the ground two years ago and lost forever. The dissatisfaction of constant ennui. He could, perhaps, return to the geographical place, but nothing familiar would remain. He couldn’t live with the memory, he couldn’t live away from it. It was like it had simply ceased to exist that day that she’d died, and every moment since that moment was just a series of moments filled with a yearning for some place that no longer existed. He didn’t think he’d ever again feel at home anywhere.

And yet…

He turns back to look at you.

“How did they die? Your family.”

“Home invasion – murdered. He never found me, hid in the boiler closet.”

“Little rabbit.”

“Hmm,” a huff of a laugh, “Maybe. Someone once said I was lucky. Pretty fucked up, no?”

“Do you feel lucky?”

“Never. Angry – that I’d been left behind.”

“Yeah…”

“Alone.”

“Are you alone?”

You turn back to him. Inspect him. He watches the slant of your eyes take in his hair, his face, wrinkled, haggard, his chest, his arms – he feels a flush flare beneath his ribs, then back up to his eyes. He wonders if you’ve ever been fucked before. You’re young – but he can’t imagine how you wouldn’t have been. He thinks he’d do anything in this moment to get between your thighs, but also, he hopes you haven’t, hopes you could be all his, only his, his his. Mine.

He hopes he won’t cry if he gets the chance.

“Entirely,” you say finally.

“I had– have– ” shakes his head, “I have, I guess, a brother. Tommy. But the last time I saw him… I was horrible.” They seldom saw each other now – lie – they never saw each other now. Truth, Joel. We’re telling the truth now.

You laugh lightly, shrug, “Happens.”

“Sure…”

“What’d you do to him?”

“Ah, just couldn’t get a handle on myself after everything. Things got bad enough eventually, and we fought… a lot. Violently. I was violent. One morning I got out of hand, terrible – one of my biggest regrets. We hurt each other with our words and our fists, and in that way only two people who know each other too well can. He cracked my ribs, gave me half his orange in the evening, afterwards – said our apologies. He was gone the next day. Haven’t heard from him since. I just got to be too much for him,” he says again, needs to reiterate it, make sure you understand that he is too much and too dark, too unmanageable – ugly. That you should not be sat here with him. That he has a violence within him, and that you should probably run as fast and as far as you can, but that he cannot promise he will not follow. “I had…” he is ashamed of this part, surprising for he sometimes wonders if he still possesses the heart to feel shame, “I had a problem with drink for a while – not anymore, though,” he says quickly. “I promise, not anymore.” He should not be promising you anything. “I got control of it – knew it was making it all worse rather than better. Felt like I was trapped underwater with my damn ghosts – that … What's that thing called when – when sick people get like – like trapped inside themselves or somethin’? You ever heard’a that?”

“Locked-in syndrome.”

“Yeah– yeah. I read about that once or heard it somewhere – that’s what it felt like when I was drinkin’ – fuckin’ terrible. Let it go after a while… but by that time… Tommy was gone, done with me. I was – dunno… like some sort of demon or somethin’ – somethin’ bad.” He huffs a small, derisive laugh, looks at you with that ridiculously charming, crooked half smile.

That laugh sparks a kindling of anger inside of you for him. This is a broken, angry, creature of a man, you think. Something fractured – not whole, and he must be handled with care and gentleness. “How could he just leave you?

“Didn't give him a choice. Sometimes people deserve to be left.”

“I wouldn’t have.” That sobers him, wipes the smile right off his handsome face. You think of the invisible giants hurting this man in some unimaginable fashion; of the endless tenderness coiled up inside of him and how the crushing of that tenderness – the death of it – has given way to what may be considered madness. Because after all these months of watching him, of him watching you, you can see it, recognize that tenderness for what it is, but also the madness, for it is impossible to ignore if you’re really looking. Soft marrow at the center of a hard man.

“I did other things… worse things.”

“Try me.”

“I tried to kill myself.”

You whistle, long and low. You actually had not been expecting that one, at least, not the admittance of it, “You’re just full of truths,” for looking at him – the sort of man he’s built as, the thought that he could be felled by anything, even his own hand, is a little hard to believe.

“Feels like a sort of confessional in this–”

“Shithole–”

“Diner–”

Your voices overlap. You both laugh. You think you quite like the sound of your voices intermingling one on top of the other.

“What happened?”

“Flinched–”

“I flinch all the time.”

“Have you ever thought about killing yourself?”

You hum, tilt your head side to side on your neck as if you’re letting the thought slide from ear to ear within your skull. “Perhaps only the peripheral idea of it, but never with much imagination or dedication. I don’t think I have that much to kill myself over, you know?”

“Your family?”

“Not really – it’s sort of become just this… this thing that happened once. I don’t feel much ownership over it anymore. Don’t know why, exactly.”

“Sure, that’s how I feel about it sometimes too. That belongs to a different man now – like– like some actor or a facsimile, and I just look in on it as if from a distance. Enjoy the sight of someone else's suffering…” He shakes his head, “That doesn’t make sense.”

“No, no, I understand. Something to do in the way that a tragedy can be compelling to watch. You can let go, let go of your awareness of yourself and experience it in a way you’d never do so in the present moment.”

“A dissociation.”

“Yes. Why would you want to go and relive the basest parts of yourself all alone, over and over again? Not likely.”

“But it was me.”

“A dissociation,” you repeat, smile.

“Yeah,” he pauses, turns the coffee cup round and round with the slow spin of his wrist as if to dissolve the remains of the grounds you know the shitty machine has left deposited at the bottom. There is a small dusting of golden brown hair covering his wrist and disappearing up his forearm beneath his flannel. You want to taste it, follow the trail to places unknown. “Not so well adjusted, us two,” And he laughs then. A real laugh. He lets you have a real laugh of his, and it is powerful – special.

“Well… no.” Of course not. “I don’t think either of us could ever claim that.”

“Bet you’ve never been bad a single day in your life, have you?”

You cock your head, let your eyes slide from him to peer out the dark window. His lonely semi is parked under the single flare of light out there. The evening has sunk into a deep blue, the hue of mourning, of melancholy, and the pavement is wet with evening rainfall.

You'd heard that some trucks had spaces behind the seats where truckers could put a bed, have a place to rest. You wonder if he’ll take you back there and fuck you in his little bunk. And honesty is a fickle thing when discussing a topic like this, isn't it? There’s a depravity about him, and you can’t tell if the truth or the lie would placate him – incite him – more. To be similar in such a way as that which he’s imagining. A little bit of both, then. After all, intent holds weight – imagination, desire, it has a mass to it that can, if enough pressure is exerted upon it, be transformed into something else.

“Not yet,” you tell him, sliding your gaze back to meet his, “Haven’t had a chance – but there’s still time.”

“What would you like to do?” He wants to take a bite out of that soft flesh you’re encased in, draw blood.

“Something depraved?” You’re taunting him – trying to provoke. It makes him slightly angry, but also hard. You should know what it is you’re toying with here.

He frowns at you, at the lilting song of your words trying to beguile him into doing whatever it is you think you want him to do to you. “What is it that you think you want here? You don’t know what I was, how I lived. Shouldn’t be sat here with me, little girl,” he scoffs. “I was– was not– I don’t fucking know, not a man. I’m not, I’m not. Not a person anymore, just this thing that continues to exist. I should not have been expected to survive. This should mean something to you too. You also have no one. You’re alone too. You’re alone in the world. You know what it feels like to only live in the winter.”

You’re quiet for a long moment, and then you say: “I think I’ve come to quite like the winter.” And at that he knows he’s taking you for himself, whether you agree in the end or not. You’re going to be his.

But he knows he must also let this roiling anger, this depraved hunger settle before he lays hands on you. Like this, in this state, he’d be too rough, break you, nothing compunctious about him or his jaggedness. He excuses himself for a smoke, your only response simply more of that inciting silence – more thoughts of cracked skulls and a cherry red cunt and tears after failed trysts with someone who doesn’t even know his name. He’s fucking embarrassing. What would Tommy say if he knew Joel couldn’t even get it up for a paid fuck anymore? He’d laugh in his face, never let him live it down. He misses his brother very much. He misses lots of things.

He’s sucking on his Red under the awning of the diner’s entrance, imagining what it’ll be like to suck on your little clit, when he hears them.

“She’s usually out about midnight. We’ll snag her then.” Grating, guttural voice.

“But I get to fuck ‘er first. This was my idea so I go first.”

“Yeah, whatever. S’only happenin’ ‘cause of me. Too fuckin’ stupid to see the plan through after all these months of watchin’ ‘er.”

“Fuck off.” Silence, and then almost with giddy elation: “We gonna kill her too?” Something cold and terrifying settles within Joel.

A beat, “Should we?”

“Dunno, man. Might be fun, huh? Never done it before.”

“She’s fuckin’ pretty,” the voice draws the vowel out in a high pitched, sacharine whine. “Got the face of an angel.” Joel’s angel, his, his, only his.

He’s got his Bowie in a sheath on the back of his belt. Perhaps, this would be a useful exercise in release. After he’s dispelled his excess energy he can come back and touch you, take you.

“Can’t wait to taste that cunt.” His cunt.

“Seen her tits, man? Fucking round and bouncy. Wanna make ‘em bleed.” And there’s only one avenue of consequence after that. After all, this is not the first time Joel’s done this.

His most well kept secret.

Sometimes, when the itch cannot be eased, abated, by his hand or a fuck or a drink or any of the other readily available vices, he turns to this. Only when the straits were dire. Only when he saw no other recourse. Only after his daughter was dead and in the ground and his brother gone away from him

But sometimes… sometimes it’s just fun. Sometimes it’s useful for a man to do that thing that he really feels he wants to do, if only to enjoy himself, if only to let go of some of that suffocating tension. If only to keep vermin like this away from an angel like you.

“We’ll chill in the woods for a while, wait the little thing out, yeah?” Joel edges his way towards the edge of the building closer to them, peeks a lone eye around the corner. Two men, middle aged. Not a problem. Not for a man like him.

He waits for them to make their way to the edge of the tree-line, watches them disappear into the gloom. He looks back into the diner through the murky windows. The warm glow of the overhead lamps washing you in a hue of golden light that brings out all the warm goodness in you he’ll take for himself once he’s snuffed out this issue.

No one’s going to touch you but him. No one’s going to hurt you but him.

As he rounds the corner of the diner there’s a piece of metal pipe propped up against the building by the dumpsters. Very nice.

He goes after them.

At the edge of the tree-line, under a swaying, low hanging branch, there is a tiny unfledged bird, helplessly twitching its way towards death in a puddle. He pauses to watch its struggle, gathers his skin about him, tightens his seams – prepares to gorge. He watches the inch by inch pilgrimage towards its last breath, then stillness. He feels so much older than his years, like he’s lived a thousand terrible years, watched a thousand terrible deaths. But there is a buoyancy about him, as well. Filled with a saccharine sweet fizz of sticky anticipation. He’s going to taste your cunt after this is done.

He moves into the gloom. He’s going to kill them for you, and his cock is hard at the thought.

Stepping beneath the canopy of the trees, into that cold, damp darkness, he sees the absolute truth of the world. On the heels of two men who’d do you harm, he knows that he’d failed to save someone he cared about once, he’d not be bested by failure a second time. Darkness implacable, the crushing black vacuum of their overheard words buzzing in his head like flies, of the harm they’d do you. Two hunted animals moving away from a creature much darker than they could even imagine, scurrying on borrowed time. What most moves him is that the things they’d do to you are not so dissimilar to the things he plans to do to you, as well. The only difference being that after he’s done defiling you, he’ll keep you for himself, with all the care and gentleness a little thing like you so deserves.

You press your ear to the cracked open door leading to the back of the building. It’s not the first time those two’ve talked their filth regarding you. The murdering is new, though. You’d not thought they were smart or inventive enough to come up with an actual kill plot. Rape enough of a hardball for minds as shallow and small as those two’ve got.

You’d never really considered them much of a threat. Or maybe you’d just never really cared enough to pay them much attention. But as you watch the broad, rippling expanse of Joel’s muscled back stalk after them, his pause at the tree-line to look down at something on the ground, you think he must be more in the vein of taking a stupid man’s shit talk to heart than you’ve ever been.

He has a thick, forearms-length of steel pipe gripped in his huge fist, and there’s a wicked looking knife strapped to his belt on the back of his hip.

Interesting.

You look back at the empty diner, the lonely parking lot beyond the glass of the windows, only Joel’s semi still taking up residence on the wet pavement. You turn back to follow after the three men.

One you want, two you’re interested to see what fate awaits them.

For some reason, when you step outside, you’re expecting there to be snow on the ground, but there is none.

You move across the pavement towards the forest-line, and the pilgrimage towards the verdant darkness feels very much like your one-way ticket out of this forlornness you’ve been trapped in your whole life. You’ve been stuck in this small town for so long, for too long. One man had already tried to forcibly evict you, had taken your entire family with him, maybe this one, maybe Joel, would do so in a way you’d more likely enjoy.

There’s been a steady, faint drizzle all day long, and the puddles of rain look like holes in the dark pavement, apertures into some other realm that glide past underground. You wonder if you stepped through if you’d disappear below into some other place. You wonder if he’d be able to find you even in that unknown other.

You cross the line into darkness.

The familiar terror of silence – you don’t seem to find it here. There is only the sound of your rushing blood, the cadence of his voice rumbling through your psyche, firing your neurons up into a frenzy. There is a twisting heat low in your pelvis, dampness between your thighs. What’s he going to do? Why’s he going to do it?Is it for me? Is it for me? It’s for you.

You let out a low whistle between your teeth and move beyond the trees. There is a giddiness about the darkness of the wood – the motley of shadows, the aroma of mushroom rot.

The familiar terror of silence. Perhaps, that is what they are experiencing now. The great horror of being set upon by a beast more terrifying than anything they could have ever conjured up on their own.

That infinite tenderness from before, that acute madness – it coalesces in the gap in the trees as you come upon the three men.

Joel has already started on the first. He murders almost tenderly. With great care, but infused with an aroma of agitated frenzy that seems flavored in the same notes of erotic buzzing that hums beneath your own skin. There is blood and viscera splattered on his face and clothes, in his hair. That great hunting knife embedded in the throat of the first man. The body lays facing you now, eyes open, shocked at his own death. Funny. Perhaps, that’s how they would have liked you to have ended up once they were through with you.

Oh, how the tune changes when the monster is on your side.

What are you? Be a creature. Be a creature. Be a creature!

You take Joel in. Thick, massive frame. You love his hair, it was one of the first things you’d noticed, thick dark curls streaked with the silver veins of his age and experience. Something that promised of care and knowledge and patience. His patchy beard with the heart shaped gap in it, you’re going to write your name into that space. His powerful arms, muscles coiled tight, his shirt stretched tight across his broad shoulders as he brings the steel pipe up above his head, pauses to look down at his next victim.

“We won’t bother her anymore, never again – p– please, please, I swear,” the man on the ground begs and cries. There are tears and snot bubbling down his ruddy, pocketed face.

Joel is silent and terrifying and glorious above him, and then a small nod: “That’s alright… I believe you.” The metal comes down in a whistling arc, makes contact.

Flesh and blood splatter, the sound of it is pulpy and wet and vindicating. He starts with the man’s knees, then his head, caved in like the shell of an egg, the yolk spilling out like vermilion drool.

He heaves silently above the man that would have done you harm. Makes the threat go away.

You step forward, cunt pulsing and wet and eager for him. When he’s gotten his fill of bludgeoning he turns slowly back towards you, as if he’d known the entire time that you’d been stood there watching.

And the look on his face, it makes something electrifying and sticky buzz up your spine and ooze down your veins. You shift back on your heels

He shakes his head, his eyes are huge, pupils blown wide. “Don’t run,” he says slowly. If you hadn’t just watched him murder two men in cold blood – no, in your defense, he saved you, he protected you, fizzy heart full of satisfaction – you’d say he almost looks a little doe eyed.

A hollow pounding begins in his heart, as if it had remained silent for the past two years and was only now taking notice of its own silence. His cock, hard enough to burst, angry and throbbing beneath the confines of his blood soaked jeans. Fuck this scum laying on the ground beside him, look at what he has infront of him. Nothing else matters but you. A goddamned angel. Damned for he’s found you now and nothing good can come of this. He takes a step towards you, and you match him with one backwards, away from him, his blood starts to howl in his veins. Different to the humming frenzy that had filled him as he did his murdering. This is hot and viscous and ravenous, and he knows he’ll get to keep his catch once he’s gorged himself on it. He knows he’ll get to keep you once he’s caught you.

You take two more nervous little, quick steps away from him. Your eyes are slightly manic, face flushed, frame jittery, excited. A rabbit that knows it’s about to be caught. He watches the pause of your limbs as they fill with coiled energy, getting ready to make the bound and leap towards escape. He lunges, goes in for the kill, teeth bared, talons brandished.

Faster than you can even comprehend, he lunges, takes you to the ground with one massive, powerful shoulder to the vulnerable, soft of your belly, one huge paw cradled at the back of your skull to protect you from the hard ground. Your spine hits the cold, wet earth, the breath knocked out of you. You think you let out an animal noise, high pitched and supplicant. A thing that knows it’s been caught and is soon to be devoured. Your limbs scramble against the dirt, heels digging into the ground for purchase, you feel the loss of one of your shoes, as you try to get away or to crawl closer, who can be sure. A spider caught in the web or a larger, hungrier arachnid. He sets the huge heaviness of his muscular weight over your much smaller frame, one strong hand caged around the column of your throat, the other pushing your chest into the earth as he shoves his hips into the cradle of your own, forcing your thighs apart and your skirt to pool at your waist. You feel the stretch of the center plaque of your tights as his wide breadth settles between your legs, making room to take you for himself. You bring your own hands up to the wrist holding your throat and dig your nails into the skin there. You can feel the light smattering of hair covering his forearm beneath your soft palms, the cold, wet dirt beneath you, the searing stretch of the inner muscles of your thighs spread wide for him, the damp of the air surrounding the two of you. He leans forwards, pressing you down into the ground, and you have the fleeting thought that you want to transfuse yourself into the earth, into him.

He pauses then to look down at you, appreciating the gloriousness of his catch. “Caught ya.” And he’s filled with an exuberance, a sort of victory. Look at what he’s snared – all for himself.

You try and struggle again, if only to see the flare of annoyance in his eyes. It makes your cunt tight and achy. Even more than it already is. There’s a part of you that thinks you want him slightly angry – rough or mean. That you might like it even more if it hurts. Be kind enough to be cruel about it, you want to beg him. He leans forward to press his nose to your cheek, drags the cold vermillioned flush of it along your jaw, down the line of your throat, bites harsh and painful at your collarbone then over the peak of your breast.

“Are you a virgin?” He whispers into your skin. It sounds very much like a threat.

“Yes.”

“Saved this cunt all for me.” And it is not a question. Yes, you moan anyways. Let him know. Let him know that this defiling is a gift you’re granting him. He sits up on his haunches between your thighs, his hands sliding down to press on your lower belly and digs his fingers into the center of your tights and pulls, ripping a hold in them for his pillaging. You try and press your knees shut at the feel of the frigid air on your sensitive inner thighs, dig your nails into the ground above your head to try and drag yourself away from him.

He digs his own fingers harshly into your flesh, his nails biting painfully into the soft skin of your thighs and ass and brings you back towards him. There’ll be streaks of pain left in his wake after this. Bad little rabbit. He smacks the inside of your thigh, watches the smooth flesh ripple for him. You let out a warbled, angry screech, little nails still trying to claw yourself away from him. He laughs then, a little mean, condescending. “Fight harder, little baby. This is pretty pathetic.” He rips your thighs apart, keep your fuckin’ legs open for me, his hands slick with the blood of his victims slide up the back of your thighs, anchoring his palms beneath the damp creases of your knees to press you open and wide for him, slaps your cunt, hard, over the soaking gusset of your panties.

“Who the fuck’re you wearin’ this tiny little thong for?” he growls. It’s white lace, with a sweet, little pink bow adorning the front. “Me? Wrapped yourself up all nice and pretty for me?” Your little foot sneaks up under his armpit and tries to push with, what he’s sure is all your valiant might, at his chest, trying to unseat him from his conquering position above you, but he takes your ankle in a vice like grip, bites harshly into the meat of your calf so that an animal squeal of pain is clawed out of your throat at the same time that he slots his fingers under the damp center of your panties. “Sing as loud as you want, sweetheart. No one’s gonna hear you out here.” He can feel the soaking wet seam of your cunt against the backs of his knuckles, and he rips them clean off you. The sound of the last remaining barrier of protection of your cunt against his ravaging being decimated has you going shock still – prey that knows it’s caught and has decided to give up. Good, this is how he wants you. Your big, wet eyes look up at him as he flings the lace towards the still steaming dead bodies. That’s all they’ll get of you. The rest is only his. Mine, mine, fucking mine.

You let your arms go limp above your head, soft and pliant and ready for ravaging, melting into the earth.

He presses your knees back and up, letting the red blossom of your wet cunt bloom for him. It’s slick and swollen, and he knows when he shoves his cock inside it’ll be burning hot. “Look at this gorgeous virgin pussy, baby. All for me. Only for me…” he murmurs, hypnotized, mesmerized. He drags the back of his knuckles over your slit, uses his thumbs to spread your lips apart, admires the swollen nub of your clit. You’re just as hungry for him as he is for you. Messy, eager little whore. He moves to undo his belt and free his aching length. Huge and brutish, thick veins pulsing just beneath the thin skin. He’s going to split you in half, break you, mold you in his image.

He spits right onto your soaked folds, watches the thick glob of saliva slide down to mingle with your own leaking slick. He’s not even going to make you come first. Little virgin cunt and he’s not going to even bother getting you ready – just gonna shove the whole, unforgiving length of himself inside of you. Force you to take it. He fists his thick fist around himself, jacks his cock once, twice, squeezing at the bulbous head so that a trickle of precum seeps out of the slit. He presses his head to your clit, slides down to give you a small threat of pressure at your opening. When he looks back up at your face your eyes flutter shut, a look of pure contented submission washing over the gorgeous planes of you.

“Not gonna be gentle, baby. Don’t got it in me.” He notches the fat head at the slick mouth of your entrance and crams his cock inside of you in one go, meets that thin barrier that says you still belong to yourself and rips through it. Mine now. No reprieve, no respite. And God, the feel of it, cleaved in half, scorching hot, filled to the brim and never deep enough. He is a rabid, snarling beast of a man as he hits the very end of you, grinds his cockhead at the mouth of your womb. You let out a warbled, pained moan, little fingers coming up to claw at his throat and chest with kitten-strength, down to dig into his thick thighs as he pins you down, and you tilt your hips to let him in deeper or escape him, he doesn't know. He doesn't care. He pulls his hips back and forces himself back in, too thick cock wedged into the too tight space. “Christ, goddamn tight fuckin’ pussy – made for me,” he grits through bared teeth.

He fucks you raw and cruel, and he needs you to just lay limp and still and take it.

And you do. And he does not cry this time.

He sets a brutal pace, throbs deep in your belly at every pause as he grinds at your cervix. It must be painful for you, perhaps, but the flush in your cheeks, the fever in your eyes, the ripple of your cunt around his driving length tells him you also like it. “What a good girl, taking my big cock,” he coos. You preen, tilt your hips this time in supplication he’s sure, hitch your feet higher along his sides. There are tears running back down your temples and into your hairline. His cock makes you cry. If he could, he’d split your throat and drink, he would. But he cannot, so he’ll split your cunt instead. He thrusts into the hilt, complete negligence for care, for gentleness lost in the dark wood, for the desperate necessity of feeling your virgins blood coating his cock. Your protestations lost to the louder song for more, for harder, for deeper

Joel, Joel, Joel.

He’s going to listen to you sing his name for the rest of his life.

He feels unhinged, a thread picked at too many times, spun loose, unraveled and frayed. That edge that separates good and evil – his bloody fingers clamp down hard on the edge of your jaw, forces you to open for him, and he spits into your mouth – direct, dirty … warm. “Lemme see…” he rumbles, and you stick your tongue out for his inspection. Once he nods, pleased and smug and conquering, you close and rub the slick of his saliva onto the roof of your mouth with your tongue, savor the taste of him. This was the taste that you’d longed for… that which teaches you what that professed edge really is. Is he good, is he evil – he’d just killed two men, you’d watched him, cunt wet at the sight of it. Albeit to protect you… sure – but does it even matter? You swallow his spit down. Probably not.

He is huge and life altering inside of you. Your virginity scoured away on his invading length.

He leans forward, hand clamped around your jaw to pierce you with his manic gaze, like his cock pierces your cunt. He smells like the forest and sweat and power. “Little fuckin’ tease,” he grits, “Bringing me cherry pie like that all the time – fuckin’ provoking me. You just wanted me to pop your cherry for you. Didn’t you, little girl?” All you can do is nod dumbly and take what he gives you. He hooks one of your knees over his elbow, the other propped over his shoulder, foot bobbing limply at each slam of his hips. He has you bent entirely in half, cunt splayed wide open for him to fuck down into the deep, devastating end of you. Your vision goes blurry, black stars streaking across the back of your eyelids. All you see is him. Perhaps he’s all that exists now. Maybe you’re just as dead as the two bodies laying beside the two of you. You wonder peripherally what the sight of the four of you must look like. Joel’s hulking form fucking you like an animal into the dirt. You open your eyes to look up at him, there’s blood splatter across his face, in his hair. His skin is burning hot against yours. You think that perhaps you’ll have scorch marks in the shape of his fingers in your skin after he’s done with you. Two dead, brutalized bodies cooling beside the place where the two of you are fucking.

“Can feel ya tightening up, baby. Gonna come all over my cock.”

He does something to change the angle, and it fucking hurts. “Too much,” you beg, try to push him back weakly, but your cunt pulls sharp and tight, and then your muscles are rippling around him, womb contracting painfully as your orgasms blinds you with its sudden intensity.

“Don’t care,” he growls back. “Do not fucking push me away.” No, he must not care. Prey doesn’t decide how it’s felled, after all.

He pulls out and back then, suddenly, slaps your cunt harshly, once, twice. You mewl, high and shocked, writhing around in the dirt. He grabs you by the hips and flips you so fast you’re left disoriented, pulling your ass up, up, up.

“Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he croons, bends to bite down on the meat of your asscheek, and then notches back at your gaping, fluttering hole, orgasm still running through you, and pushes back in. You’re soaking wet, slick and fucked open by him and the taking is much easier this time. You feel his thumb press down on your asshole, “Gonna take this too. Gonna have every part of you, every piece. Gonna swallow you whole.” All you do is arch your back further, cheek smushed into the dirt, fingers digging into the cool earth for purchase, for salvation.

The sight of you stretched around his thick base, so slick he feels you dripping down his balls and further below, into the bloody earth. There’s a red tinge of your own blood coating his skin, and he’s going to come. He’s going to fill you up with his spend and fuck it deep into you until it takes. Until no matter how far you want to run, he’ll be with you, always. He lets his head fall back on his neck and stares up at the dark canopy of the trees, groans low and deep.“You’re gonna be my little hole now,” he promises, presses one large palm into the small of your back to deepen the angle and fuck down into you. “Gonna take you with me and fill you up whenever I feel like it. My gorgeous little cumslut.” The ramming of his hips starts to grow sloppy and stuttered, close to the edge now. Victory is so, so near.

You start to claw at the dirt and wiggle again. Little knees chafed raw and scrambling against the hard ground trying to get away. He slaps your ass hard, hopes there’ll be the print of his hand to appreciate later.

“Not inside, not inside – not – no birth control,” you stutter, beg.

“I’m not fuckin’ pulling out.” He twists a cruel and unyielding hand into the back of your hair and presses your face harshly into the ground. Your eyes pinch and tears seep and mingle into the blood and dirt beneath you. “Gonna pump you raw and full. You don’t gotta worry about anythin’ anymore, baby. Gonna take care of you,” he grits and you press yourself harder back into him. There is an existential seesaw inside of you – a volleying of your wants – you want him to hurt you, to force you, to take care of you and keep you, all at the same time.

“Promise – promise me you won’t leave me,” you cry and beg because really, that’s all you want. All you’ve ever wanted. For someone to stay, for someone to never leave, no matter what.

“I promise – fuckin’ swear.” And you go loose and passive again at that – his to do with as he will. Nothing else really matters after all that.

He senses the change. The loosening of your muscles into capitulation. He stops his thrusting and grinds, strums at your clit. “Oh fuck, you want me to fill you up? And what happens if I do? What happens if it takes? Want me to get you fuckin’ pregnant?” Starts to fuck into you again, “I think you do.”

Don’t care, don’t care, don’t care.

“You’re mine. Fucking mine.” He says it again and again and again, yes, yes, yes, lets himself fall forward, anchored above you with one strong arm as he presses as deep as he can physically go and starts to fill your pulsing cunt with his come, the heat of his spend inciting you to roll into one more throbbing orgasm. He brings his face down close to yours, open your eyes, little thing, lemme see you. The fluttering of your lashes, sweaty, dirt-streaked face, and you are seraphic, the wet crimson heat of your blood pounding beneath the delicate membrane of your skin. Gorgeous, perfect, conquered and his.

“Fucked full’a me now,” he whispers, presses a soft kiss to the tender skin of your eyelid. You nuzzle into him, and then look up at him with the warmest, most vibrant gaze he’s ever seen. Fucking pleased and sated.

“They wanted me, but only you get to have me now,” you whisper. “How does that make you feel?” Provoking, provoking again.

“Like I fucking own you.” He grinds his still spitting cock further, feels the pull of your muscles milk him deeper.

He lets his weight fall partially over you, too heavy for the full mass of himself. You are, after all, a delicate thing, and he must remember to handle you with care, occasionally. He feels the pulsing and quivering of your cunt around his softening cock, and the two of you settle to lay there in the dirt, bodies still dead, virginity scoured and stolen, and stare at each other.

“Have you ever been in love?” you whisper, dragging the tip of one little finger, whisper soft, over the arch of his brow, the slope of his nose.

“I feel a little in love with ya right now,” he confesses, and you press that finger against the seam of his mouth, begging for entrance, and then inside, against the flat of his tongue to inspect the wet gleam of it. It’ll be inside of you soon enough, you should take a look at that which you’ll be writhing against in due time.

“Good. That was my plan all along.” Smug, conniving little creature.

Once it’s full dark, he packs you into his truck, buckles your seatbelt for you, tucks a blanket around your dirty knees and drives off as if he hadn’t just murdered two men and taken your virginity with their blood still hot on his skin. He goes for miles and miles, eventually finds a dark, secluded spot to park the truck for the night. He takes you into the back bunk and fucks you like you’d wanted him to, on your side, one leg slung over his shoulder, hand gripping the lush of your ass to pull you onto his impaling cock, watches your ass bounce against his thrusts. A demanded play with it, lemme see ya push it back in, as he watches himself drip out of your messy hole. Eats your cunt until you cry. Afterwards, the two of you lay, naked and damp, facing each other, tracing the lines of one another in the quiet dark.

Sometimes he’s worried he’s blood hungry – or pain hungry. Starving for something he doesn’t have a name for. But he thinks that, perhaps, he can use your name to fill in the blank space now. He’d always felt as if his devotion was a punishment to the receiver. After all, everyone Joel has ever loved has left him. But as he looks at you, there’s something in your eyes that tells him that perhaps, you’ll remain. Perhaps, he can compel you to, force you to. Perhaps, he can anchor you to himself, and in turn, give you everything.

“Are you a ghost?” he asks.

“No. Are you?”

“Sometimes I think I am.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You’re like a fuckin’ angel or somethin’. What were you doin’ out here in this wasteland?” He asks you again.

“Maybe I was waiting for you.” This answer he likes.

He’s quiet for a long time after that – taking you in, cataloging you, memorizing you. His fingers ghosting over your face, your hair, strumming the fan of your lashes. Later he asks: How do you remember the memory of someone else? How do you keep them when they’ve gone somewhere entirely unreachable?

“Because you love them,” you tell him.

“That’s enough?”

“Of course. Will you ever forget that you loved her?”

“Never.”

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

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charmercharm3r · 10 months

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skz reaction to you still being needy after sex and wanting more rounds, but they're already tired (still horny tho )😼

chan would give in instantly even if you’ve both already cum 3 times and are covered in sweat, all you have to do is bat your pretty lashes at him and he’s on his back in .01 seconds. he’s exhausted, rightfully so, but if you’re horny, he’s horny and he would NEVER pass up an opportunity to have you and him cumming so hard you see stars. but his body is on the verge of breaking down, so he submits this one time. let’s you have a go on top and just admires the view of you working yourself into a frustrated frenzy cus you can’t get yourself to cum (but he’s been on the verge this entire time) and eventually finds the strength to flip over and give you the railing that practically sends you both into a coma when the pair of you finally cum one last time. hates hates hates not cumming at the same time so if he cums before you, he’ll power through the exhaustion and make sure he gets it right.

minho would be an asshole about it. so much teasing, so much humiliation and making you feel guilty. “do i not please you, baby? do i not make you feel good? i don’t satisfy you well enough that you’re begging me to make you cum again?” pleasure dom, but will make you feel embarrassed about being horny for him. he loves it, but would never say it to your face. instead gets you to cum minimum three times on his fingers, twice with his mouth, but denies you the first few times on his cock as “punishment for making him work so hard,” then has you crying from overstimulation cus “it’s what you asked for, so you should take it like a champ.”

changbin is also a pleasure dom, however will shower you silly with praise. it gets him off seeing the cute, adorably fucked out smile on your face— even more when you’re still begging him to make you cum again, not even a minute passing since your last one. it’s a huuuge ego boost knowing how insatiable he makes you. won’t stop until you’re in tears because of how good you feel. also refuses to be anything but even with how many times you both cum. nope, we’re fair and square in this bedroom! won’t mind if you cum more than him, though, you deserve it. but he will never cum more than you! pretty baby doesn’t get anything less than royal treatment >:)

hyunjin won’t even take his dick out until you’re begging for it, if it’s one of those days. will flat out refuse to let you touch him until you’ve cum at least 3 times from his hands and mouth. and only if you can still take it, will he let you sit on his lap and dry hump him over his boxers until you cum a 4th time from that. has incredibly surprising self control when it comes to sex. he’s tired but still knows how to get you whining and begging for his cock even though “my mouth does a perfectly good job, baby. sit on my face and maybe i’ll let you sit in my cock later.”

jisung is just as horny as you are. he needs the emotional connection in order to become intimate with anyone, otherwise it just doesn’t feel good. so when he meets you and finally breaks the touch barrier, he’s thanking the heavens you have just as high a craving for him as he does for you. THE BIGGEST SOMNO ENTHUSIAST. falls asleep anywhere and everywhere and will never never never deny you crawling into his lap and playing with him over his pants until he’s hard enough for you to sit on. even when he’s still asleep, or drowsy and can’t differentiate anything other than your voice, he’ll let you do whatever you want to him, no questions asked. tired, half asleep and will still find the power to grip your hips and thrust up into you until you both finally cum and falls back asleep with his cock still in you.

felix will cry. cries because he’s tired, cries because you’re too pretty, cries because he loves you so much, cries because he’s overstimulated and just wants to please you. lots and lots of tears but also will beg you not to stop, he needs it just as bad and will combust if you so much as look at him wrong. actually one of the hornier members, super open to experimenting to find solutions to both your troubles. likes the idea of a double ended dildo or sharing a vibrator when you’re both too sleepy but want the relief. likes laying you on your side so he can cuddle you while fucking you so early in the morning, needy baby needs to be as close as possible.

seungmin takes a bit to break. he’ll tease you to no end, make you feel embarrassed like it’s wrong to feel this way for him. until he’s eventually in the same position. amidst making fun of you for being so cock hungry, he neglected his own desire to the point that if you asked with just the right tone, he’ll summon the craziest amount of hidden energy to fuck you stupid like an animal because he didn’t realize how badly he needed to cum again. your cute whines for his cock went straight to his head, then trickled down to his dick until he caves and leaves you absolutely mind boggled how he had the strength to move like that. don’t mention how pussy drunk he got, or he’ll make sure to never do it again.

jeongin is also incredibly horny. like all the time. all. the. time. so even after you’re both spent and laying there out of breath, he’ll be the one to usually raise his eyebrows at you after a few minutes to kickstart another round. will request taking turns who’s on top so that no one is wasting unnecessary energy. but when your thighs eventually give out from bouncing on his cock for too long, he takes the initiative to hammer up into you. gives zero fucks about who hears and is actually incredibly vocal. has no filter, will yell your name, moan and groan late into the night so everyone knows how much he loves you and your body. when he walks to the kitchen for water at 3am after just pulling out of you 5 minutes ago, gets stopped by minho and is told “you both need an intervention. no one should be as horny as you two are.” note; intervention is unsuccessful.

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ephemeral--dreams · 1 year

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Making you cry during a fight (2) - Scaramouche, Yae, Kaeya

Okay guys here you go never ask me for anything ever again /j

(part 1)

☆ ☾ ☆ ──────────────────

Scaramouche

There's a sort of deep, instinctive fear that takes root inside the place where a heart would be, as he watches tears fall after a few too-harsh words.

He's hurt you. He's been careless, he's been too difficult, too much - and it's going to drive you away. You're going to abandon him because of this incident, surely. Why would you stay with someone who makes you cry?

It's… it's not a feeling he's dealt with for many years. The fear of being left. He has not allowed anyone to get close enough to him to have any concern over whether they're around or not. Scaramouche had learned his lesson about getting attached and having emotion, after all. He had spat out whatever bitter words he pleased and felt nothing when he upset anyone he spoke to.

But those days are past, and while that's a good thing in many ways, right now it feels anything but.

"I-"

"Sorry. I shouldn't be crying," the way you apologize as if you're the one in the wrong stabs right through him. You're the one crying, yet he is being wounded just as much. It's an awful thing, caring. "Just. Just give me a moment…"

Scaramouche hesitates. He's paralyzed, caught up in the idea that anything he does or says may make things worse. But what wins out is the idea of fixing it, fixing things before you give up on him—

"Stop it. You shouldn't be the one saying sorry here. I shouldn't have said that to you, alright? You should know better than to take everything I say so seriously, honestly, I-" he sighs, irritated with himself more than you, before pulling you into his embrace. You don't pull away. Good. Maybe he hasn't entirely fucked things up. "...I didn't mean it. Sorry."

Yae

Yae Miko is not the sort of person who yells during a fight. Or at any time, really. So that hadn't been at all what had happened during your little conflict.

Rather, her words were pointed to hit where it hurt, an attempt to shut down whatever silly human nonsense you thought was worth causing a riot over. Problems came and went, and most weren't nearly as important as they may seem in the moment. Living many years had led her to this conclusion. She was a busy woman who had little interest in wasting her time arguing.

...Calculating and perhaps dismissive she may be, but she isn't cold. Yae still very much has a heart, and it skips a beat when she realizes you're nowhere to be found at the usual time she would meet with you after finishing her shrine duties. Surely you weren't that upset over it all, right?

No, you couldn't be still lingering on the issue hours later…

Well, you could. Others were far more sensitive to these things, a fact she often forgot. Yae should know better. Isn't she used to highly emotional people, after all? At least your tantrums weren't going to practically destroy the nation…

She finds you at the foot of the mountain, sitting and idly staring into the distance. The tear tracks on your face are all too telling.

Yae is not above realizing when she has done something wrong. Though she's also not one to openly apologize. She doesn't do much of anything openly.

"You don't listen to me," you tell her.

"Well, I'll try to listen more, then. Is that satisfactory?" She offers a hand to you. You wait a moment before taking it, allowing her to pull you up. "Just remember to consider my side of things as well. We can work on it… But let's not linger on this too long. Time is fleeting for mortals like you, hm?"

Kaeya

Kaeya is excellent at one thing - avoidance. In fact, he's been successfully avoiding you ever since your fight a couple of days ago. It's easier to simply wait until you've both cooled off.

That's what he tells himself. It's certainly not that the fight made him feel anxious. He's not running away from his problems, of course not.

(He's lying to himself. One wrong word and you'll leave. He knows that. It's bad enough that you had an argument, archons forbid he confronts you and it's the last straw.)

So Kaeya carefully stays out of your way, doesn't speak to you, doesn't let you catch sight of him. He'll have to deal with things eventually, he knows, but… Until then, he's content to keep things this way. Four days in you finally seek him out yourself, looking exhausted and absolutely miserable.

"Can we- can we stop fighting? You're right, I'm wrong, all that-" He can only watch as you start breaking down in front of him, a cold, sinking feeling of guilt settling in. "...Just stop ignoring me, please?"

His life has been filled with bad decisions - it seems that he's made yet another, by avoiding you so long. Now Kaeya is faced with your tears as you practically beg for his attention. It's quite the opposite of what he intended. He reaches a careful hand to brush them away. "Shh, shh. No more, alright?"

You sniffle, looking up at him. "You're not mad at me?"

"Of course not, sweetheart. I never was. We can talk about it later, okay? Let me make you feel better."

#scaramouche x reader #yae miko x reader #kaeya x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #wanderer x reader #story unfolding

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starry-nights-garden · 6 months

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Ateez Reaction ✧ Seeing your ex in public

✧ Ateez all members x gn!reader ✧ genre: reaction, some angst, comfort ✧ warnings: implications of unhealthy relationships in the past in some parts

Hongjoong:

tonight is supposed to be unforgettably wonderful as you're on a date with your boyfriend to see an artist you both like a lot performing live for the first time

instead it becomes unforgettable for an entirely different reason, because only a few songs in, someone eerily familiar stands right next to you

you're not sure if your ex has realized yet that they're standing right next to you, but you sure are aware of it, and you instinctively get closer to your boyfriend

the latter uses the opportunity to whisper something about how glad he is to be sharing this moment with you in your ear, until he too spots your ex standing right next to and he wraps his arm tightly around you

"Wanna get out of here for a minute?" he asks, his mood immediately becoming serious

it takes merely a weak nod from you for him to lead you through the crowd and away from all the people

as you're visibly uncomfortable, he does his best to comfort you until you start crying in his arms because you feel so sorry that now he can't enjoy the concert because of you

however, he assures you that it's not your fault and tells you not to think like that, while doing whatever he can to help you calm down until you feel okay again

Seonghwa:

your boyfriend knows that you have a bit of a difficult history with your ex, even though you're mostly over what happened now

so when you suddenly spot your ex as you're out in public, he seems more tensed up about it than you are

his grip around your hand becomes firmer immediately, and you can tell he's not sure whether he should try to play off his feelings or openly glare at your ex

so you quickly suggest to go take another route to your destination, and when your boyfriend doesn't immediately comply, you get a bit pushy because you currently can't imagine a more awkward situation than those two actually meeting

he does eventually let you lead him elsewhere, but his mood stays the same all throughout your date, until you're finally home and you confront him about it

that's when he realizes he hasn't been doing you any good with his behaviour, and he finally apologizes for it

"I'm really sorry... I didn't realize I kinda ruined our date with that. I just... can't forgive that person for hurting you like that," he explains

and though your date wasn't as fun as it could've been because of that you also understand that his reaction is simply another proof of how much he cares about you

Yunho:

you're on a walk through the city together when you suddenly spot your ex with their new partner walking towards you from afar

them not having noticed you yet, you quickly grab a clueless Yunho by the hand and pull him into the next best store, the poor guy not knowing what's going on at all

"We could've just walked in normally if you wanted to check out this store so badly, no need to pull me in like you're running from someone," he jokingly comments, hoping for some kind of explanation for your sudden change in behaviour

there's serious worry in his eyes for a moment when you tell him that you are in fact running from someone, but he relaxes once you explain to him that you saw your ex walking in front of you and you really don't want to run into them

he understands and so he suggests actually looking around the store you're in for a while until your ex has hopefully passed you by

you end up having fun looking through the shop's assortment and once you're done joking around about the most questionable fashion items you can find inside you've already forgotten all about the awkward almost-encounter earlier

Yeosang:

a few weeks after starting to date Yeosang you run into your ex together

you split up on friendly terms so even now you sometimes talk to each other whenever you happen to meet each other

you current boyfriend mostly stays quiet as you introduce the two to each other, and only after a short conversation and saying your goodbyes does it dawn on him that that was your ex

it takes him literally the entire way home to process that fact and his feelings about it kalsdjföjs

"That was your ex??" - he asks that question in disbelief once you arrive at your place and you can't but chuckle at his delayed reaction

he keeps awkwardly asking questions about your ex throughout the evening until finally you figure out that he's jealous

so you give him a kiss on the cheek and you reassure him that there's nothing going on between you and them anymore

he'll probably need a few more kisses and some time to truly understand that you're nothing more than friends now, but eventually he'll be fine :')

San:

as you're out on a shopping tour he's still busy talking to you about the coat you've both been looking at and that he thinks would look good on you

however, when you suddenly stop responding he finds you staring at something else and as he's about to tease you for getting distracted, he realizes who the person is who's standing just across the street

he doesn't hesitate to take you by the hand, his firm and sudden grip startling you out of your shock and making you look at your boyfriend instead

"Let's get out of here. I know a better place to buy you a new coat," he says, even though it's clear he has a different reason for wanting to get you out of there as quickly as possible

will pull you a good distance away while always keeping his eyes on you, and when your ex is finally out of sight he makes you sit down on the nearest bench or wherever

"Do you need me to do anything or get you anything?" - asks that question while cupping your face with his hand and running his thumb across your cheek

will do whatever it takes to make you feel better and to forget all about that unfortunate encounter

Mingi:

he's a little slow in grasping the situation fully when you arrive at your favourite restaurant and you immediately ask him to go elsewhere

after all you've been looking forward to this date for so long, so your reaction makes no sense to him

that's until you manage to point out to him that your ex is sitting just a few tables away

he still tries to argue that it can't be that bad but you insist that it's horribly awkward for you, so eventually you leave together to find a different place to grab dinner

you can tell he feels bad about not immediately leaving with you as he seems absentminded the entire evening after that

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was that awkward for you to be near your ex," he eventually apologizes when you're back home but you assure him it's okay and no big deal

it really is just awkward for you after all, no hard feelings

and so the situation is quick to be resolved in his mind as well, and you spend the rest of the evening having fun together, forgetting about the encounter quickly

Wooyoung:

the urge to jump at your ex and fight them is huge when he spots the person who's suddenly making you tense up

however, with how you're freezing up and stopping in your tracks while staring at them in horror, he knows better than to make a scene

instead he puts his hands onto your shoulders as gently as he can so as not to startle you

"Are you okay?" he asks carefully, as if the answer wasn't obvious - and he realizes how stupid that question was too, because now he's trying to get you to move again without waiting for your answer

positions himself so he's covering the frame of your ex in your vision and once he can see you react to his action, he puts his arm around you protectively and starts walking with you

leads you away from that person first of all, and once he decides you're a safe distance away, he offers you a comforting hug which you accept

in case you have to cry out the shock, he'll make sure to take you somewhere you can do that undisturbed

Jongho:

you're out on a date when you can suddenly feel the mood changing

protectively has his arm around your shoulders and is pulling you close before you even notice that it's because your ex is just a few steps away from you

only when you find him lowkey glaring into a certain direction do you see their face and you shudder

upon feeling your reaction in his hold, he immediately turns all his attention to you and steers you away from that person

"Come on, let's go elsewhere," he quietly says, keeping his voice down in an attempt to calm you down

won't let go of you for as long as you're in distress, and if he does end up getting too far away from you and you cling to him, he'll go right back to holding you close

is going to buy you your favourite snack to share in order to distract you for now, and might even be a little too cute about it and deliberately embarrass himself to make you laugh

#ateez reactions #ateez comfort #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #ateez scenarios #reaction #angst #comfort

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adamsrcnan · 27 days

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OKAY OKAY here we goooo an annoyingly long-ish post about all my thoughts on The Sunshine Court

Spoilers Spoilers Spoilersss you've been warned

First things first it is so interesting to see Nora writing from not one but TWO new people's perspective. Jean's perspective is just devastating being inside his head is heartbreaking the constant fear and panic and how much of his energy is used on just pushing down every memory of what was done to him. His coping mechanisms are terrifying and i truly do hope by the end of book 2 he has a healthier way of dealing with it bc baby boy stop hurting yourself :( Every sentence was so painful to read. But also his resilience the entire time to get through it no matter what, god i fucking love him!!! He is a fighter.

Jeremy's perspective is sooooo refreshing. He is such a little sweetheart i could cry. The fact that he sends hand written letters and he's so caring and genuine but he can also be so stern. When he dropped that "i asked you a question" to Lucas fkehdjdfjdh OK SIR. I'M SAT. His relationship with the family butler is so endearing as well i need more background on that for sure! My only one criticism is that he didn't have enough pov chapters and i'm hoping we'll learn more in the second book of course because there's still so much about him and his (dysfunctional? toxic?) family dynamic that we don't know yet but also i'm greedy and i wanna know EVEYTHING about him !!!

Kevin and Jean are so just tragic it actually breaks my fucking heart like "you didn't have to slit my throat on the way out" JEAN??? and "promise me you won't try again. I can't lose you." KEVIN??? And the fact that Jean to this day is still keeping that promise. Also Jean's obvious but secret long term crush on Kevin the way it's subtly dropped every time Jean has to stamp down on his desire's and "temptations" GOD PLEASE I CAN'T STAND IT

SPEAKING OF!!! BISEXUAL JEAN ??? BI JEAN??? BI JEANNNN !!!!

Neil and Jean oh my God like where do i even start?? The guilt Jean feels at what happened to Neil in the Nest and him finally calling him by his name after Riko's death and telling him his game was good. And Neil seriously needs to give himself more credit for how much of a caring person he is because the way he indirectly told Jean that he thinks he is worth saving and didn't even hesitate before asking Stuart to send someone after That Guy after what Jean told him. Neil Josten the man that you are!!!

Jean's little sister Elodie what a beautiful name. Them being so close and him reading to her. The way he found out about her death jolted me differently. It was so awful and i'm so sorry Jean didn't get to see her grow up and meet her again.

Renee and Jean oh my god. Jean thinking she's beautiful (bitch me toooo) And the whole right person wrong time ugh i can't stand it. Him wearing her necklace all the time, enough that Jeremy always notices it. And unabashedly stealing her picture from the foxes lounge. Like he did not give a fuck. He said this one is mine. One good reason to stay alive being rainbows i'm gonna FKSJSKDHDH. Theirs would be such a soft love.

Speaking of soft loves Laila and Cat are EVERYTHINGGGG. God they are so cute with their little domestic life and their rich gay boy son who crashes on their couch with his cardboard cut out dog. That whole friendship dynamic is beautiful. Their fierce protectiveness and care over Jean as well and the patience they have with him even after the little kitchen incident. When Cat took Jean out for a drive on her motorcycle god that was such a heart warming moment and Jean helping them cook as well and becoming the girls' little sous chef it's so cute so endearing !!!

FINALLY FINALLY THE JEREJEAN DYNAMIC

PLEASE I'M GONNA SCREAM

Jeremy being the one who told Jean that Riko was dead i don't even know what to begin with THAT like hhhhhhh. The way they're both stupidly attracted to each other but won't/can't do anything about it. THE WHOLE "say yes Jeremy" SCENE WTF WAS THATTT I WAS GOING INSANEEEE. Both of them having to stop mid sentence when they catch the other looking FINE as hell. Jean being so obvious that even Lucas picks up on the way he looks at Jeremy. Jeremy being there to ground Jean in a Moment and helping him come down from it. Grabbing his face and telling him he's okay. Moving into the room with him to make him feel more comfortable !! The way Jean grabs Jeremy's chin (boiiiii). Jeremy constantly reminding Jean that he is NOT A RAVEN ANYMORE no matter how many times he has to say it. Jeremy saying he'll wait as long as it takes until Jean speaks to him. JEREMY GIVING HIM A HUG AND JEAN CLUTCHING DESPERATELY TO HIS SHIRT FUUCUFHDHSJHSSUHDH and then the "will you help me?" And the "Anything you need" AND THEY'RE GOING TO TAKE A CERAMICS CLASS TOGETHER?!?!?!!!! i can't i can't i can't i caaan'ttt

There's so much more to say but i'm gonna leave it at this for now because i need to go re-read it again and take my time with it this time round but i really could not have asked for anything better Nora truly outdid herself here !!! I'm forever grateful she blessed us with this after so long.

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