#don't imagine the future and maybe it can't hurt you

[mayasaura]

I just want to talk about the nursery being painted and the purpose of the Tomb to be without a door. Anastasia had a family - and putting to the side the pact with Alecto there's some implicit symbolism to John asking for the workers of the Ninth to die constructing the Tomb with that image of new life. (Still can't articulate my disbelief that he went and didn't think that asking Anastasia of all people, The one who lost her cavalier to him, would have problems)

Yeah. Especially finding this out about the Ninth, where nurseries becoming tombs is a thing we're sensitive about.

On one level we've always known Anastasia had a family. Like, we know she's Harrow's direct ancestor. You can't be heir to the line of someone who never had children. But the nursery.... Yeah. It really hammers it in. Her friends painted a nursery mint green for her children.

And now it's a tomb.

#that's what the Anastasian is now after all #you're right there's really Something there #I've noticed something in John I think ties into this thematically that I really hope Kiriona is going to help us explore #John doesn't believe in a future #I said in my last Anastasia meta that Anastasia outsmarted John by making herself immortal in a way he couldn't understand #she left behind something she created to outlast her #John hasn't built anything to outlast himself and he doesn't think of the future at all #he mourns the past and fights like hell to live in an eternal present where nothing ever ends #you know #immortality #and a part of that—maybe most of that—is about despair #even way back before the world ended even before he had magic powers he didn't think of a future #I think he couldn't imagine one #and like. I get it dude #don't imagine the future and maybe it can't hurt you #how many people have you heard saying they don't want children because it seems cruel or irresponsible #they can't imagine forcing someone to live in the world they see coming #climate anxiety is fucking everywhere and for a lot of people in our generation—John's generation—it's coalesced into despair #but Anastasia did imagine a future #she had a family #and now John has a daughter but he still can't imagine a future for her #she's just as dead and eternal as the world he loved so deeply he killed it rather than watch it die #what did Gideon say when she saw the First? it had the look of a picked-over body but hot damn what a beautiful corpse #that's gonna be you baby girl #the final expression of the art of the nine houses #John gave up on hope ages ago #so it doesn't really surprise me at all that he still asked the builders to die in the tomb #the locked tomb #ntn spoilers #nona the ninth

[kamaluhkhan]

anti-curse

pairing: percy jackson x daughter of apollo!reader

summary: whether he knew it or not, percy jackson made the world a better, brighter place — and you intend to protect him, no matter what path the fates leads you down. fuck prophetic dreams. the future wasn't written in stone.

warnings/disclaimers: mentions of typical demigod things (battles, weapons, etc.); this is set during the heroes of olympus series so roughly follows that plot + features the seven demigods; mainly inspired by book!percy (dark hair, sea green eyes) bc that's the one i fell in love w growing up; characters are aged up from the book (reader + percy are meant to be 21-22 y/o) bc i imagine there was more time between prophecies/series....anyways, please enjoy <3

when you first met percy jackson, he almost shot you through the chest with an arrow.

given that apollo is your godly parent, you often found yourself at the archery field, which happened to be one of the first stops on percy’s tour of camp half-blood. after that first mishap, your other half-siblings were, understandably, too scared to let percy try again — frankly chiron seemed a bit hesitant as well — and you could sense that percy felt disheartened. so, you flashed the boy a reassuring smile before giving him a few pointers and a second chance. when he smiled back at you, you felt a fluttering in your stomach that told you percy jackson would be more than a little important in your life.

archery still wasn't percy's strong suit, but your gut feeling turned out to be true. you and percy had dealt with a lot since then — a handful of quests, several prophecies, more than a few near-death experiences, a titan war, and, maybe worst of all, high school. you couldn't imagine getting through any of it without him by your side, and you knew the feeling was mutual.

so, you were entirely anticipating that percy would be hurt by your announcement during dinner. 

“no way that’s happening.” percy laughs, as if he can’t believe you’d suggest something as ridiculous as not having him accompany you on your quest. he remains unfazed, takes a sip of his electric blue coke before gesturing to the empty seat next to him. “come on, sunshine. have something to eat.”

the nickname sends your heart into a frenzy as you sit next to him. you and percy had never been anything other than friends, but sometimes....sometimes you look at his dangerous ocean eyes and wind-swept dark hair and it makes you blush. sometimes you consider the way his laughter fills you with warmth and his smile holds a thousand memories, the way he teases and winks at you and you decide that he makes your world so much brighter. sometimes you remember how sarcastic and thoughtful and loyal and reckless he is, his heart of gold and unpredictability of the sea. and you start to think that maybe possibly you'd fallen in love with your best friend.

that was not the issue at hand, though. you summon your favourite food and drink, but don't particularly feel like having either. percy returns to his conversation with hazel about how the two of you would drive up to montauk after you finally got your license, any time either of you needed to escape your reality, even just for a night. you'd sit on the beach, stargazing and roasting stale marshmallows and wishing to stay there forever. hazel seems to think that sounds like a nice escape, and percy promises that once the eight of you fulfill this prophecy, you'll all go to the beach house together, which makes hazel break out into a grin.

you can't help but smile at percy who loves his friends, who has loved you for so long. that feeling is quickly replaced by a pang in your chest that reminds you what's at stake. from the corner of your eye, you notice annabeth across from you, who looks at you like you’re a puzzle she can’t quite solve. you're trying to hide it, but if anyone can read you better than percy, it's annabeth. she knows something is weighing on your mind. you briefly lock eyes with jason, who you had gone to earlier for help, from the other side of the room, where he sits between piper and frank. 

if you weren’t so distracted, you would have been able to enjoy dinner. the eight of you — all demigods of the current great prophecy — hadn’t been all together in a while, and it was nice to share a meal aboard the argo ii despite the reality of why you’d all been traveling together. leo had equipped the ship with magic plates and cups, and with the lively jokes and stories filling the air, you could almost imagine it was an ordinary summer evening at camp. you could almost forget that tomorrow, you had to go on a quest to rescue apollo and artemis from python, a monster so powerful your father barely defeated him thousands of years ago. you could almost ignore the impending war with gaea and the giants, and the doomed fate of the world if you were to fail. the one thing you could no longer ignore, however, is the gut feeling you have about the fate of the boy sitting next to you if your quest is to unfold the way you had first planned it. 

you clear your throat, an attempt to interrupt the group's conversations. 

“i was serious earlier,” you declare. “you’re not coming with me, percy. jason is.”

the smile percy had on his face fades. his eyes are filled with concern and disbelief, as he glances at you. “i – i don’t understand.”

"percy,” jason jumps in carefully, aware that he’s treading through dangerous waters like you had warned him. “y/n and i were strategizing earlier and it seems to make the most sense, given our powers combined." 

percy shakes his head. “but — but you can’t just make last minute changes. we’ve already got everything set. right, valdez?”

leo shrugs, swallowing a mouthful of chicken before responding. “i don’t know, man. i’m no expert in quests, but it seems like i’m not the one who should be deciding this.” leo looks at you, and you nod gratefully.

you've been on edge since last night, and to calm your nerves you fiddle with the gold chain around your neck. it was a gift from your father: a necklace with a music note charm that can transform into an electric guitar or a bow and quiver. thankfully, you hadn't had to need both at the same time.

“it's up to me. and i want leo and jason to come with me.”

“then i’ll come too,” percy's voice remains calm, but insistant.

“isn’t there that thing about quests usually being done in threes?”

“that is true, piper,” percy agrees. he tilts his head towards you, like he's calling on you to remember. "exceptions have been made, though. like that one time with zoe." that had been years ago, when demigods from camp half-blood and hunters of artemis joined forces. five had been sent out on a quest, but only three came back. you shiver at the thought.

"or my quest through the labyrinth," annabeth recalls.

"but won't that also change our other plans, though?" hazel asks.

"not necessarily," you pipe in, your voice more assertive. "if jason and percy just switch. no harm done."

"we're not interchangeable," percy grumbles.

"hera sure seemed to think so!" leo searches the room for positive responses to his joke, but the most he gets is a half-hearted laugh from frank. "too soon?"

you take a deep breath. "it's not a big deal, really."

"it kind of is," percy counters. "you've never gone on a quest without me."

"you've gone on quests without me," you point out.

"that's...that's different."

"why? because i'm so weak that i need the son of the sea god to protect me at all times?"

you're giving percy the coldest stare you ever have. he hesitates to hold your gaze.

"you know that's not what i meant," he sighs.

"then what did you mean?"

percy looks at you, his eyes and tone softer. “look, sunshine, let's just stick with the plan, alright? we can just —”

“gods, you never listen, do you?" you finally snap. "you're not coming! i don’t want you there, percy!”

percy stares at you, stunned. you look around the table, and everyone looks back at you, wide-eyed. they weren’t used to this side of you, your sudden outburst not fitting in with your usually sunny disposition. 

“well, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” leo jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood, with less than ideal results.

“you saw something in your dreams, didn’t you?” annabeth realizes. 

her conclusion makes you freeze.

demigod dreams are always significant, carrying vivid images of monsters, messages from friends or enemies. some children of apollo like you had visions of the future — pseudo prophecies that are supposedly set to unfold given the path you’re on. technically, you weren’t supposed to share your visions, something about messing with fate or destiny, but that didn’t mean you had to accept the way things were. 

what you saw in your dreams last night, what might happen to percy, made your blood run cold.

you would defy all the laws of the universe and divine rules if it meant you could protect him. so fuck the path the fates are attempting to lead you down, and fuck prophetic dreams. you refuse to let percy die. no matter how frustrated you’re acting towards him in this moment, you know he would still do the same for you.

you figure that the future isn't written in stone, right?

either way, you're willing to challenge destiny for percy jackson.

without answering annabeth, you get up from the table and take a deep breath, carefully avoiding percy’s gaze. 

“i go with leo and jason, or i go alone.” your voice is steady, fighting the heavy beating of your heart and tears caught in your throat. “either way, i leave in the morning.” you exit the mess hall before anyone — before percy — can protest.

#Spotify #when i was younger i didn't think people would want to read all the stories i'd make up in my head about this series #so im glad the percy jackson renaissance is here #there's something so healing about writing + sharing this blurb even if i'm still nervous #might fuck around and write another part because i have so many ideas of where this could go #percy jackson #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #pjo fandom #pjo hoo toa #hoo #heroes of olympus #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #pjo #saf writes #riordanverse

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Just Friends (König x F!Reader)

How to Escape the Friendzone 2/4 (Word count 5.3 k)

Summary: König is a horny, creepy killing machine obsessed with a shy, kind reader who has a raging knife kink.

Tags/warnings: 🔞 Eventual smut, eventual violence, angst, dark romance, canon divergence. Crack treated seriously. Yandere undertones, implied stalking, panty stealing, major character death, size kink, voyeurism, possessive sex, twisted, fluffy feelings. Loner boy/gentle girl dynamic. Protective!Obsessive!Top!König. Reader works as a cleaner at the base. She is described to have hair and prefers to wear dresses off work. Not safe or sane but mostly consensual.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Massive arms go about her as she's pulled against a lean chest. It's an awkward, tense hug. He smells of open air and coppice, with a whiff of acrid sweat on top as she lays her head somewhere between the bumps of muscle of a warm chest.

Not even the body heat makes him appear more human: his heart is not pounding as fast as she thought it would after making it clear he would score some tonight.

She fears she's dealing with a sociopath. Might even be a psychopath.

"Are you still afraid?"

"I don't know." Her breaths are everything but steady as she inhales the intoxicating scent of a madman.

"Don't be scared. I will only hurt those who wish to hurt you."

His pledge renders her weak; it makes her legs shake. She gets far more than she bargained for when pulling him in to give her a little late-night comfort.

Friends with benefits is a situation bad enough, but this is not okay. The guy's fixation seems boundless, and if she tries to wriggle out of this… relationship and starts seeing someone else, it might end up in König scrubbing the potential future love interest's guts off his shoes.

And something in the idea isn't even wholly appalling.

Good God…

"I don't want you to hurt anyone," she whispers like it isn't his day-to-day job – to hurt and kill people. She is on the verge of collapsing to the floor and stays upright only because he holds her in authoritarian embrace.

"Little angel, it's what I do." He releases her only enough to bow his head and look into her eyes. His stare betrays slight distaste. Those eyes are calm mirrors of how can someone be so naive.

"You come to me if someone is mean to you," he orders in a stern voice that makes her feel faint.

"Alright," she breathes a fluent little lie. He's satisfied with her answer, however, and presses her head back against him with effortless control.

She imagines him knifing someone with a listless stare from sparing a glance her way; she fantasizes him strangling some chauvinistic moron in the darkness after they have been "mean" to her. Quickening breaths betray her sick thoughts to him because he pulls her even closer. She can feel the enormous cock pressing against her body with a promise of violence.

"Angel… I wish you would stop teasing me."

"Yeah?" Her laugh is restrained, and her heart is racing inside her chest – like it's some kind of a good idea to have a heart attack while a murderous psycho turning into a boyfriend is in the same room with her. "Where's the fun in that…?"

"Do you always tease men like this?"

"No," she swallows a mouthful of woodland and musk. "Just you."

"Hm."

"König… Can I see your face?"

The man finally seems to find his reserve again. He detaches from her, and she can hear the audible gulp inside the hood.

"Maybe later."

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other like he usually does when he's a bit nervous. Probably to ease the discomfort from still being forced into those pants with such an astoundingly large, swelling erection, too.

She can't come up with anything that might explain why the man is so uncomfortable with showing his face. From the small glimpse she saw in the showers, everything looked completely normal. There is some other reason why he wants to wear the mask, most likely some mental block, and she would simply have to wait until he's ready and willing to take it off.

"How about a kiss?"

He doesn't shake his head or escape her as she hesitantly steps toward him and raises a hand to the hem of his hood.

"If I just…"

He does nothing as she starts to raise the mask. The look in his eyes is somewhat haunted, though.

She lifts it just enough to reveal a clean-shaven chin and a pair of thin, tightly shut lips. She briefly notices that there's a scar on his jaw before his mouth opens to call her in. They're polar opposites of each other: she feels breathless and limp when their lips meet while he's a statue of rigid power. Even his mouth is tense as she catches his bottom lip between hers and tries to soften that immortal stiffness. Distant notes of hops catch her tongue just before he pulls her back into a crushing hug.

The guy is not the most perfect kisser. He's very avid, though. In fact, his eagerness is what makes it a scary experience, what makes the kiss clumsy. He smashes his lips on hers with force, then opens his mouth so wide she fears he will devour half her face.

The ungloved hands slide down her back and cup her ass. He's gentle, but she still feels like she's levitating, half an inch above the ground from his groping. He moans like they are already having sex, but before she can disconnect herself from the violent kiss, he does it for her.

"I want to fuck you," he pants across her lips, eyes half-lidded and drunk. "Can I fuck you?"

The man has no conception of how to dance these dances. He simply declares his wish to shove his junk inside her and kill those who might do her harm. She feels dizzy in his arms, like dew that will evaporate under too much heat.

"Yeah, yes," she tries to sound sane, although there's nothing sane about this.

So much for being just friends or being nothing at all…

Her heart is beating faster and faster; it wants to rend itself out of her chest. She feels ample sweat between her thighs, then realizes it's only her own wetness that has broken through the cotton of her underwear. The dress is so tight in the middle that she can't simply try and throw it over her head, and the buttons at the front seem to have suddenly become too big to slip through the holes.

He doesn't take any of his clothes off while watching her undress. The instant she opens her whimsical veil of blooms, he moves close and shoves the fabric down her shoulders so that it drops sadly on the floor. Then he flicks a knife out.

Shit… Shit what the fuck–

"No–Don't–!"

The blade is forced with a flat surface under the middle of her bra. He pulls the fabric away, turns the blade - it's a miracle she's not bleeding by the time he cuts through the center front like it's butter. Her breasts fall free, and the destroyed lingerie hangs cheaply on the side before it gets dragged away too. She looks at his work, her exposed tits and the crude, fat knife he swiftly returns to its sheath.

"That was my favorite br–ah…"

The man is terrifying, even when he sinks to his knees. He dives for her breasts, licks the undersides and sucks her nipples like he's famished. Her head rolls back, and she feels fainter still as he gropes her like she's his toy, chews a nipple until she shudders and cries in pain. Then he goes down, down, panting hot breaths on her skin as he goes, the hood grazing and tickling her skin.

His hands shake slightly as he tears down the last piece of covering fabric from between her legs. She can't even step out of the briefs before a blazing tongue is pushed to her clit, all but delicately.

Perhaps he's not a virgin, but he's not a veteran, either – still, it draws a filthy moan out of her.

She has to take support from his head to prevent herself from falling when the tongue simply forces its way between her legs. It curls to meet her folds, slick with her wet. She knows she's practically leaking at this point, and hears how he licks his lips.

"Of course the angel tastes like heaven too," he rasps in her mound, sounding rather… bitter. Almost annoyed.

She thinks it's only the beginning, but he suddenly rises like a Kraken from the sea, like a Godzilla about to destroy an entire city.

"Get on the bed. All fours."

She chokes the whimper that tries to escape her, then turns and crawls onto the bed as if they are running out of time. His urgency is hers now, and she presents herself to him, waiting for the man to thrust in without remorse, but it's his mouth she feels first.

"Uh–Oh my god…"

He licks her with a flat tongue, torturously slow while she's on display. They're long, profound sweeps, as if he wants to sample her rather than give her pleasure. Although he does give her an immense amount of it.

She falls on her elbows, face down on the bed, exposing more of herself to him in the process. Her pussy has been neglected for so long that the feel of his hot tongue on her is absolutely breathtaking, thigh-shaking. She pushes herself back a little, lets him taste his own medicine for once.

And of course it only makes him more unhinged.

"You're wet like a…" he laughs a short, dry laugh straight into her folds, and she finally whimpers at the sound. "You want it so bad?"

"Yes…?"

It's a sad little confession but more than enough for him. He freezes behind her, and something in the way the air shifts tells her he has risen and is now standing high above her as she's in this crudely vulnerable position.

"I've made you wet this whole time?"

She snivels, opens her eyes, closes them…

"Yes," she sobs in the bed, nearly topples, but he grabs her ass and keeps her in place.

"Ach du lieber Himmel…"

She pants and cries in the sheets, but the sobering silence lasts only for so long.

The sound of a belt being opened shoots her skin full of goosebumps. Only a few seconds later, the fat tip of his cock is swept across her folds: it probes for a second, then slides in.

"A-ah–"

"Scheiße… So tight…"

He hisses and goes all the way in – the journey is long and torturous as he stretches her wide. The thickness only grows at the base, his balls are already tight as they arrive to press against her.

And mercy is not at the top of his list as he realizes she has denied her need and therefore, his. He starts to sail inside her, back and forth, in and out, like it's his job, too. It's total torture. She might just pass out before this is over.

"You little tease…" He seizes control of her hips while using her as his own personal fleshlight. The noise of wet, slick fucking is deafening. The pace is upped soon, and he has to use strength to hold her in place while ramming her from standing while she tries to hold on for her dear life and hold onto the sheets.

"Not so fast, König," she whimpers into her pillow, but he won't listen. The pace is frantic, and his thrusts are deep; he fucks her with despair, with anguish-driven, starved thrusts born from greed.

Nothing has ever felt so good, nothing.

"Just friends, eh?"

She has a hard time deciphering whether he is happy or mad. His voice is pitchy, and she knows, she just knows that he sounds equally as unglued on his missions. Perhaps that's why people rarely talk to him.

"Don't–don't be angry…"

"No? Say that you want me," he commands somewhere behind her, desperation coating the air with pungent sweat and musky arousal. "Say it–say it–"

"I want you," she finally cries, and it feels like an absolution. An amnesty. Remission of sin.

There's panting and frantic sound of slaps of flesh against flesh behind her. The air all around is pure electricity. It makes her quiver and throb and squeeze: him, the sheets, anything and everything.

"I will bring you flowers every morning and fuck you every night. Ja?"

His length is the only thing she can focus on; all else dissolves into a hazy mist. The cock glides in her like he's oiling a gun part, and he could ask her to kill someone and she would only say–

"Yes, yes."

He slides in and out with less and less control, moans and grunts with every thrust now. She's already past the point of no return, even though the orgasm keeps hovering right beyond her reach. She only needs a few more minutes. Or maybe just one...

"König… Not...so–fast…"

He answers something in German, an annoyed string of words she has no clue what they mean. He's probably just swearing profoundly.

"Get...what you deserve..."

That's the only thing she can flesh out from the English that follows. He finally finds some mercy with a choked groan and tries to slow down a little. It's even worse when he does that. He pulls almost completely out, then sinks back in, agonizingly lazy, and that does it: the full length of his giant cock slipping inside her without effort makes her walls clench.

"Oh God…" Her back is arching, her toes are curling, a tight cry disappears somewhere in the pillow, and he won't stop with the – "Oh–fuck–!"

"Yeah," he cheers her on as she screams, cries in the sheets while his cock swims in her. His hands dig into her hips, and she barely has brains left to think it might leave bruises. The orgasm comes in waves, shakes, and he won't let go even when she's only a heap of throbbing, soaking flesh and rapture.

And it's not the end; quite the contrary. He continues to fuck her with abandon: balls slap against her with every jab; they must be covered in her juice at this point, making the sound of sloppy thrusts utterly obscene. She's able to stay in a face-down, ass-up position only because he's holding her there for his cock.

The grunts turn into a wide, thick groan as he approaches the edge as well. The pace slows down almost to a halt before he comes.

"Jetzt…kommt–" he groans through gritted teeth, voice all taut while he grinds through his release. It's a multitude of deep, oddly paced thrusts, a sad attempt to get everything he can, and she's still like a wet gulf sucking him in.

The last throes are sluggish, the madness starts to pass, and she feels like every bone has left her body. There is nothing solid left when the man slowly relents and settles somewhere deep inside her. She can hear how he pants with his mouth open, and it sounds painful, wet, almost drooly. Then he swallows with a breathless gulp, slips out, and lets her go.

She immediately falls forward - topples, crashes, crawls on the bed, tries to rearrange what's left.

Just friends...

Yep.

He crashes somewhere beside her, spent and out of breath. The front of his shirt is covered in sweat; the air is filled with the stale scent of musk and saline sweat and pure, mad sex. She can barely catch a glimpse of the slick, glistening length of him. It feels like a miracle that this thing has been inside her. It’s not that it’s monstrously thick: it’s simply long, curving a little to the side, lean and aggressive even when growing soft.

"You play with fire, Engel. Why did you make me wait so long?"

The masked killer beside her is panting but satisfied for now, and turns his head to look at her. She has to muster all her courage to look back.

"I'm…a bit shy."

"You're perfect," he declares while watching her in her sex daze and ruin. So, at least he's not angry. He finally looks… normal, even with that absurd hood still on, with that intoxicated, admiring stare in his eyes. The ice in his blues has turned into melting snow.

"I noticed you the minute I arrived here."

She can't prevent a hand from reaching out at that, from splaying fingers over his chest.

"I noticed you too," she whispers back before moving closer to snuggle him. His heart is finally thumping in his chest, right under her cheek – from the late exercise or their closeness, she can't tell. A heavy arm goes around her, pressing her further into the nook of his armpit.

"You remind me of one of my knives," he says while holding her close.

Oh good God…

"You are a butterfly knife girl."

"Oh?"

"Ja. Small and cute and a lot of fun. And I can't get enough of you."

So much for getting rid of the man after getting some d. God, what was wrong with her? Any other woman would have put up some boundaries, perhaps gotten a restraining order by now.

"Is it… a good knife?" Her voice comes out as an annoying squeal, and he pulls her closer, ever closer.

"I mainly use it for playing."

She wets her lips in an attempt to calm herself, to comfort herself. She’s just another plaything for a murderer whose hunger seems endless, even if he’s more civil now. Still, she fears this man is only after sex and violence. Her little dresses and petite lingerie won't stand a chance against such brutality.

"What knife are you…?"

"Classic Glock field knife. Tall and ugly."

Behind the thin veil of indifference, there's pride. It borders on arrogance. She catches a dash of bitterness, too: field knives don't pair well with butterflies, perhaps.

"König, you're not ugly," she breaks their odd cuddle to look at him. "This sounds like a trustworthy knife to me."

He looks back at her with an even warmer tinge to the glacier of his eyes.

"It is. You cannot hope for a more loyal blade."

Her gaze drops somewhere in the darkness of his shirt. He's pledging himself for the second time to her, and it causes another storm inside her head. There's warmth on her cheeks, too.

"You are cute when you blush," he observes with pleased tranquility.

Perhaps... Perhaps he doesn't want to hurt things he finds cute.

Perhaps he will take care of them, like he takes care of his knives.

It still takes some getting used to that he allows his hood to be lifted just enough to push his tongue inside her mouth or pussy but taking it off to show his face is too much. She is lying there with him in an odd post-coital dream, thoroughly naked while he's still fully dressed. But she doesn't feel cold, not when pressed against his blazing form like this.

"Did you nick my underwear?" She asks out of the blue, and the hand stroking her waist stops in the middle of an idle caress.

"I might have," he admits without a single ounce of remorse in his voice.

"König… That's not cool," she says, knowing he can hear the lack of scolding in her voice.

"You want them back?"

"I… Gosh. Yes, that would be nice."

What a pervert.

"Or... Nevermind. Keep them," she sighs, trying to brush off the fact that the underwear in question wasn't even clean. "Do you steal women's underwear often?"

"No. Just yours."

A laugh meant to convey her shock is far too laced with joy to make it clear that she finds his deeds preposterous. She simply fails at every turn in trying to express that she's a decent woman. He knows it now, probably saw it long ago; that she's the perfect cheval glass to his perversions.

The hand on her hips moves to caress her thigh, and the drowsy stare observes her with growing mischief.

"Ready to go again?"

"Whuh–Again…?"

He takes her hand and moves it right over his cock. It's lean and demanding, and pulses under her palm.

Tall and ugly, she thinks while her walls dare to throb with hunger.

"You make me hard," he says, almost as a whisper, "all the time."

Jesus… There was definitely no rulebook when it came to this guy.

She gets to watch from the bed how he gives her a show as the man finally decides it's time to take his clothes off. The shirt is the first one to go: it flies somewhere on the floor while he holds on to his hood. The sculpted muscle looks even bigger up close, and the plates are covered with thin hair. It runs thicker below the navel, and his thighs are pure power: they surround the sleek length of his cock like trunks of strength when he finally gets himself out of those pants.

The v-shape of his upper body is something she will never get over. Broad shoulders shrink and curve into narrow hips which in turn swell into powerful thighs, and while perhaps this guy wouldn't win the gold medal at a fitness competition – judged by the way he's lean and athletic but not low fat ripped – he certainly is the most beautiful man she has ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on. He's a demigod with his herculean strength, a titan who's too big for the world of mortals. A tormented Samson who will never be tamed with treachery or tricks.

The bed sags as he crawls back to her like the gentlest predator. Her legs open wide to receive him – a classic missionary feels like the most intimate choice after the faceless pounding she received earlier. He gathers her legs as he proceeds: forces them up, up, almost next to her arms until he's hovering over her exposed pussy.

She should've known that some boring missionary wouldn't satisfy this man at all.

Her eyes drop to her legs and what's between them: she's in no position to do much of anything, but as the tip of his cock – smooth, pristine velvet – slides across her wet folds once more, she rather helplessly tries to drive her hips up to meet him.

It's like she's drunk or in a dream. The scene is wild and filthy: she's plump and spread open, ready for the taking, thighs almost in her ears as he draws his hips back and finds her opening.

"Please be gentle," she begs with a whisper. He halts for a while to lock gazes with her rabbit stare.

"You are pretty when you beg, little one. But I would never hurt you."

She swallows, and her lips part – his gaze instantly falls on her mouth, then raises back to her eyes, gentle and painstakingly ardent. He's close, so terribly close – and not just physically. Her thighs quiver with anticipation as the thick velvet slides in.

Holy fuck–

She savors the spread, and he's gentle, like he promised. The groan that erupts from inside the hood above makes her walls ache. He's so merciful this time, and she wishes to lift the black veil that still keeps them apart, to see his face as he takes her, to see that scar on his jaw and how his mouth hangs open with hunger, just like hers…

His cock comes out all wet – she can hear it – before plunging right back in, and it makes her mewl.

"Oh God…" Her eyes shut tight from the sensation of being so filled. She's even more starved than she thought. It's scary, far scarier than the mass murderer above and inside her.

"You like that?"

He's breathing heavy, and she knows he's looking at her, the distorting face of pleasure, the way she's biting her lip. Tears try to force themselves out from the passionate, featherbrained proximity, from being so tightly knitted together, like a bunch of happy, overstimulated nerves.

"Look at me," he orders, and she opens her eyes like they're under his command and not hers.

"You like it like this?"

She nods with tears in her eyes, and he won't stop looking at her like she's his most prized possession.

"Gut. I will make you scream again."

The man's dreamy stare follows every twitch of a lip, every bat of an eyelash. She looks down briefly to escape that love – the sight of the long thickness disappearing in her while she is so crudely open for him makes her feel dizzy, even when she's lying down.

Some pillow princess…

"Sehr schön," he comments while watching her face which must look like that of a dumb, anesthetized doll. His cock has that effect, and now that he's hovering over her, staring into her soul while filling her, it makes everything even more painful because it's sweet. She's under lazy waves, and decent men seem the most boring thing on earth right now.

"You like my knives?"

"Ah–what…?"

"You stared when I played with my knife."

She knows he has caught her staring more than once and bites her lip again not to blurt out how she had stared when he had played with... other things as well.

"Mh, yeah… It was beautiful."

"You're beautiful."

The sudden waves of intimacy leave her fragile and weak. His stare is nothing short of a caress. She is open and helpless for him to pound to his heart's content, but he's gentle, bordering on loving...

"I can teach you how to play with them."

Jesus Christ, this dude is just crazy.

"Uh-huh," she agrees to it with her mouth hanging open from the overload of sensation. The lewd sound of his cum pushing out of her with every thrust is an obscene background music for this – or any – conversation.

"I have a collection."

Why the hell would he be talking about his knife collection in the middle of–

"I own at least fifty knives. I can show you all of them if you come to my room."

His gaze is at least as piercing as his cock, and she realizes how serious this is: knives are his life. He finds them beautiful too, he collects them and cares for them. They're a profession, but they're also the most important thing in his world.

Knives are his essence.

And he had likened her to a butterfly knife...

"S-sure."

The sound from where they are joined rises to a sluggish crescendo: drowsy, filthy claps of flesh on soaked flesh. He makes her sick and well at the same time: he drags her to hell and raises her to heaven. He's the remedy and the curse. He plays with her like he plays with his knives: ravenous, entranced, obsessed.

She tries to concentrate on too many things at once: that intoxicating voice, the memory of him playing with death, the cock plunging inside her over and over again, making warmth pool below. She imagines him killing people with his collection, picking his tool for the day. He's not the only lunatic here because even the very thought makes her tight around him.

"You are close?"

"König… Just–" she whispers on the cusp of a deeper, soul-rending orgasm.

"You like it when I talk about knives?"

She breathes laboriously and tries to hang onto the last bits of her sanity, but he knows her, knows her already. He weighs down on her until her thighs come to rest right next to her breasts. He's plowing her in a crude angle, indecent and deep. It's vulgar, and she loves it; loves the way he stares at her, all helpless under him.

"Please, I'm gonna–"

"I can show you my guns too."

Ohmygod–

"I'm gonn–ah–!"

She shatters, her walls clench; her pussy sucks him like he's hard candy.

“Sieh dir das an… You were made for me.”

"Nh– Please…"

Her head tosses on the pillow as if in a dream. She's fathomless, and going to pass out, the cock inside her makes her eyes roll back in her head until she sees white, the color of saints.

"Shy girl… Beg for it."

The voice that answers his command is not that of a shy girl; it's not hers at all. She hears it from underwater, and her reality consists solely of the man filling her, spreading her, transforming her from an angel into something deliciously wicked.

Please, just–

It's not her voice, and yet it does sound everything like her. It begs, mewls a plea after the other in a string of helpless little whimpers.

Don't stop, please pleaseplease…

"Besser als jedes Messer…" he rasps, more darkly now. "You drive me crazy, Engel."

A chant arises in her head: she has sinned and there's no turning back. He feels far better than any promise of heaven. She could never have guessed that being cast out would feel so good.

His release comes with a tight rip, he goes taut like in that shower, only ten times more desperate. The hiss under the hood turns into a pained, strained roar of a grunt. The first time was foreplay, a quick one: this is true release. She almost hopes she would faint as the whole body of the Austrian titan goes hard as a rock. She couldn't be more spent and used, and still, her pussy answers his godly essence by clenching around him, pulling him in like he's the best man there is.

The man of her dreams, the man from her worst nightmares...

His eyes are liquid, the waterline twitches. She sees behind the walls, a millisecond's worth of fragility before his head drops, and the muscles are released from the violent trance. Broad shoulders cage her in like she's suddenly deep inside a mountain pass. Spent and dead and gone, there's no hurry any longer: he is buried deep inside and throbs whatever leftovers he has to give her.

She's filled to the brim, crushed under his weight, banished: and it's only delicious, the feeling of her body disappearing somewhere in the depths of the bed he has plowed her into. She waits dutifully as the man gathers himself, even gets brave enough to touch him. The masked face is buried somewhere in her neck, and his stomach ripples with a few shivers as her hand runs down his spine.

"I want to do this every day," he declares softly while panting through the thick fabric of his self-made shield. She feels pure horror and thrill in her chest.

To do this every day… She will eventually break, like a toy that has been used too much. She's not made of steel like those butterfly knives used mainly for playing.

"König, this is crazy… We're crazy," she tries to put into words the unholy mess raging inside her. He snorts before releasing her from the absurd position. The weight of him leaves her empty as he pulls out, then drags his way beside her to gather her back into his arms.

"Don't be ashamed, little one," he coos through the mask. "You don't have to pretend with me."

Two rounds of intense sex have liberated him, the manic terror has turned into a strange compassion. The look in his eyes is magnanimous and tender, almost droopy. She feels weightless and timid, an angel once more.

"We belong together, you and I," he states with conviction that sends sweet dread inside her heart. "Don't worry. You will never be lonely again."

Her fate is sealed, and she fears a big, fat knife will cut her heartstrings too if she tries to escape his protection. Her jaw trembles at the prospect of him returning to her every day to fuck her bare after an adrenaline high on the field. She sees a future of tears and sweat and cum, a beast lulled into sleep amidst a withering sea of flowers and torn lace.

She tries to find the right words, hopes he will be swift and merciful in his execution.

König, please…

It's not the hood, it's–

"Everyone fears me," he sighs beside her. "I'm glad you don't."

#könig x reader #könig x female reader #könig x you #könig smut #könig fanfiction #könig #mw2 smut #mw2 fanfic #konig x reader #könig mw2 #call of duty #mw2 #mw2 x reader #yandere könig #könig imagine

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

Hey dad

I'm a transgender (ftm) boy with unsupportive bio parents and tomorrow's my birthday, but bc of where I live and the school system, I'll be dead named over the speakers of the entire school wishing me a 'happy birthday' even though they're celebrating the birth of a baby girl who I don't have any attachments to anymore and nobody seems to want to celebrate their baby boy

My dear birthday boy,

I don't know which time zone you live in but you sent this some hours ago, so I assume "tommorow" is "today" now, so - Happy birthday! Cheers to another trip around the sun, may it be an amazing one! May this year bring more joy than you could ever imagine.

We don't know each other personally, of course, but I can say honestly that I'm so glad you were born, so this day is definitely a reason for me to celebrate as well. Thankyou for being here with us today!

Birthdays can be hard when you're getting misgendered and I can only imagine how painful it must be over the speakers. As I'm a bit late in answering, I assume this already happened, so all that I can say now is just: I'm sorry that happened and I can imagine all the painful feelings it brought up. Hopefully you can leave it behind you quickly and find positive things to look forward. If you can't think of anything, then i'm sure some of my followers will want to wish you a happy birthday as well, so maybe looking through the comments on this post will be something positive and uplifting for you!

You deserve to be celebrated just the way you are. And if it's of any comfort, my life experience (and that of my fellow trans friends) tells me you will be. You got a year older - and as a general rule of thumb getting older also means getting closer to freedom. Time goes on, and it brings new people in your life, and some of them will be lovely and supportive and see the real you.

But that's just a little reminder of the future. You live in the present, and right now and here you are allowed to feel hurt. All feelings are valid, even on a birthday.

For now, my anonymous birthday boy, I'll make a bad dad joke and tell you "Happy birthday, my son-shine!". But seriously, congratulations on growing into the man you are. I'm proud of you and I stand with you.

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

#lgbt #lgbt+

[suguru-getos]

୨・┈﹕✦﹕ Kinktober Day 26﹕✦﹕┈・୧

-> Event Masterlist

Yandere Itachi Uchiha x F!Reader -> Breeding

Warnings: Dub!con, yandere themes, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of baby trapping, Stockholm syndrome, manipulative Itachi, pregnancy of breeding!kink. Itachi is still soft because yeah >\\< and fluffy if you squint

It's the ridiculously delectable way, her doe-eyed self cowers down beneath him whenever she loomed in his presence. He adores her, watching her fidget every time Itachi says something, every time he glances at her unmomentarily. She is akin to a deer, and Itachi- a lion, a ruthless, sadistic lion wanting nothing more but to tame his prey, but no- he doesn't just want to prey on her, he wants to love her. He wants her to love him, to subdue everything she can for him.

It's the way he always excuses his behavior with the sentence that chains her neck, boiling down her very core. "It's all to protect you, to keep you safe." When he addresses her as an 'Angel' she loses a little faith in god, because no angel's wings should be pinned down as hers, the way Itachi does it.

No, he does not hurt her, but he does make sure she doesn't hurt herself, sometimes confinement and solitude is the most amicable way to stem down the essence of a punishment and a lesson. Treason, if you will.

He still feels insanity grip the very nerves of his self when she approaches him, slouching as if she'd break if she stood tall. He would break her for standing tall & sniveling at him to let her go. "Hmm, maybe bestowing you with some responsibility will help, you've become quite air-headed, dear Y/N."

Oh, it desolates his perfect, controlled mind when he imagines her tiny self inflated with his seed, having trouble pacing around, needing Itachi with every little beck and call, the vulnerability which will come with her last semester, how she will struggle to hold her urine when the little Uchiha would kick and eagerly wait to see Mother and Father... how adoring.

It starts slow, after months of living together with Itachi, she knows how to read him, how Itachi's eyes glint towards the impending, she wouldn't be unjust, Itachi treats her kindly when he demands something, especially when it needs his fragile, male ego stroked and petted.

So she complies, as he spreads her apart naked, pupils visibly dilated as his gaze turns tender, more subtle. As if she'd break under him, a vile part of him wants to break her instantly. Itachi is a paradox, after all. "It's okay, my angelic little thing." You're doing so well for me. His luscious, long hair tickles her tender breasts as Itachi leans in, kissing her neck, scraping at the sensitive, irritated skin & deviously marking her up. "Oh no, don't cry, I'm going to be gentler." He dotes on her being a sensitive crybaby, can't handle his length, can't handle him.

Oh but the little being Itachi owns, is ferocious on her own, knowing most ardently she has him in her grip, "Wa-ant to go out after this." She manages to barely choke out when Itachi's member ravishes her cunt, thrusting, rutting his hips inside, churning them up to his shape. Itachi couldn't say no to that face, the future mother of his kids. "Anything... Angel."

"Will you let me fill you up?" Itachi asks though she doesn't have any choice but to, Itachi is a master, a sorcerer of illusions and to earn her goodness, to pretend she owns the decision of freedom, ever so fleeting choices that are nothing but a mirage; Itachi loves that.

She nods, biting her lip like an anxious child, the background thoughts all super setting the imagery of her being pregnant, she's too far gone now though. Stockholm Syndrome hugs her every night along with the slender arms of her lover. She wants to please him, simultaneously hating herself for the same as she nods, feeling the thrusts slow down, sloppy and then the warmth of his seed deep inside her gummy walls.

"Nothing, Angel, without you... I'm nothing."

#itachi #itachi uchiha #itachi x reader #itachi thirst #itachi smut #uchiha thirst #uchiha smut #uchiha x reader #naruto thirst #naruto smut #naruto x reader #naruto shippuden x reader #itachi x you #uchiha x you #naruto imagines #itachi imagines #naruto kinktober #kinktober #kinktober 2023

[ghouljams]

does viking!soap have an arm ring?

just imagining healer!reader somehow in a situation where soap's hand is pressed flat on the surface she's leaning on. totally not eyeing the veins trailing down his arm, they focus instead on the intricate design. maybe it's a remaining family heirloom or a gift after his first voyage... you know definitely not something he's hoped and imagined about passing on to any future children or anything like that

Viking!Soap has integrated into viking culture fairly well since [redacted] of course he has an arm ring. I think he probably got it after his first voyage with the 141, a gift from his new family meant to tie him to something again. I imagine there are very few things Soap was able to keep from his life in Scotland.

You're starting to spend more time than you mean to looking at Mactavish's arms. The thick flexing biceps and veins that trace over his forearms, usually hidden by long sleeves and his cloak, now on full display in the heat of summer. He ties his hair back as well, but that you can handle, it's the new skin you're having trouble with. The skin and the attitude. He seems emboldened by the warm weather, boxing you against doorways, leaning close, murmuring in that delicious low rumble that makes your skin prickle with heat. You've told him to stop, but as usual your wants go unnoticed.

That's really when you notice it: the thick metal band that circles his bicep. You'd caught flashes of it during the winter when it sat tighter, though still loose, around his wrist, hidden under his sleeves. Now it's hard to miss.

Mactavish leans against your table, chattering away, his arms crossed over his chest while you ignore him. It never seems to make him leave. His arm ring draws your eye and you let your eyes trace the silver twists, trying to decipher the heads at the ends while he talks. After a moment Mactavishes fingers find the band and rub over it.

"Huginn and Muninn," he says. You look up at him in confusion and he laughs. He slips the ring down his arm and holds it out to you to look over. "Odin's ravens. The travel the world, learn things, the um-" he pauses, you don't know Mactavish to pause often, "Price gave it to me, after my first expedition. Supposed to keep me comin' home."

You trace your fingers over the metal beaks of the ravens, turning the band over in your hands before handing it back. "It's pretty," you don't know what else to say. Mactavish holds it carefully, looks at it like it's something important. You suppose it must be. To you it's just a nice piece of metal, but you're not a viking.

"Yeah," he says, slipping it back up his arm, "It'll go to my boy one day."

"Oh," you don't know why it makes your stomach drop to hear him talk about his child, "I thought Gaz was thr only one with a child."

Mactavish makes an inquisitive noise, his fingers tight around the band. "He is, but I'd like children some day," you glance up, meet his eye, he tilts his head, "don't you?"

You clench your fists and turn you attention back to your work, tamp down the fluttering in your heart. "No," you tell him firmly, try to push purpose to the edge in your voice, "not here, not with any of you."

Mactavish hums. He does that when you do this, when you show your teeth. You never know what it means, never have the courage to look at him, to try and read what he's feeling. If you did you might see the hurt in his eyes. "I know, Vænn," he tells you quietly, "it's all my fault."

You clench your fists tight, dig your nails into your palms and clench your teeth. It doesn't work. You hatred and grief won't work if he sounds like that, if he pushes off your table and leaves before you can find the courage to snap at him. You hate him. You hate how unsettled your stomach gets at his words, hate the nausea, and the spiderweb feeling in your chest. It is his fault.

So why can't you stand to hear him say it?

#cod x reader #x reader #x oc #cod x oc #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish #soap cod #soap mw2 #soap x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x reader #viking!soap #highlander!reader #healer!reader

[shalotttower]

Fractalize (part 1)

Title: Fractalize

Fandom: Hunter x Hunter

Summary: Lack of hope creates a strange kind of numbness.

Word count: 3700+

Characters: Chrollo x Reader (female)

Notes: yandere Chrollo, kidnapped, depressed and miserable Reader, Reader is dissociating a lot, morbid pondering, suicidal thoughts, explicit/triggering language/words, Reader's thoughts on possible sexual assault in future. Part 2

Fractalize - making things into smaller copies of themselves over and over again.

Sometimes you stand in front of a mirror and try to picture yourself in another timeline. One where your life didn’t take this specific turn. You try to imagine a different setting, a different apartment - perhaps the one you had before Chrollo started moving you around like a luggage bag. Maybe living in a cottage by the sea or an old farmhouse. Someplace rural, peaceful. With a garden and fresh air, far away from the city noises.

It's difficult at first, your reflection keeps slipping through your mental fingers every time you think the image is set in place. But with practice it becomes easier, sort of, so you can now see yourself clearly as you brush your hair - not here.

A blue dress on, made for nights at parties with friends. Laughing until your stomach hurts and eyes become sore. Making silly faces over alcoholic beverages. Or you can wear your favourite jeans with a high waist and head out to the pub, the same one with crooked stools and a broken sign. Drink cheep bear, eat greasy peanuts from a little bowl, listen to some small band play unknown and unheard songs.

Leave intoxicated, and everything is too fast and vibrant and wonderful until you're back home.

It's your favourite pastime now: imagine, remake and slip.

Imagine. Remake. Slip.

You don't quite remember the last time you laughed, a month ago maybe. Maybe more. Lack of hope creates a strange kind of numbness, dull, cold, you would compare it to a winter plastered all over your insides, but it's almost colder than that. It freezes everything and turns it into icicles hanging off the roof.

Remake, slip.

You have new vocabulary now.

"Mm" - is for when he asks you if you like a dress or a top and it doesn't matter how you actually feel about it, because it's going to end up being worn anyway.

"Okay" - is for when Chrollo sets another fancy meal for you on a dinner table and "Eat, don't be shy".

"I'm not hungry" - doesn't work with him, even if it's the truth. You always eat what's put in front of you, that's the rule, because he's not above shoving the spoon into your mouth, so you spare yourself the tears and sobs that will probably come with that. It's so bizarre: how much effort he puts into keeping you alive when you're anything but.

"Whatever you want" - is for when he asks you something that requires a choice, between two or three options usually. He's not one for an extensive list.

"If you say so" - for everything else.

You used to delude yourself with the idea that if you managed to appear pleasant enough, pleasant-talking, pleasant-listening, smiling a bit here and there, it would gain you some privileges and perhaps a bit more freedom. It did. But never where it really mattered. Those little things were absolutely inconsequential in the grand scheme. Yes, you can have that sweater, dear. No, you can't have your own bed. Yes, you can come shopping with me, if you give me a kiss. No, you can't take walks without me holding your hand.

Yes this and no that.

Those moments were fragile and so very takeable that they didn't give you any sense of accomplishment, just a short respite and bitter aftertaste that made you feel pathetic.

Wasn't worth it.

***

"Do you like animals, dear?" Chrollo asks out of the blue one day. He's reading something on his tablet while you're curled up on the couch, watching TV.

It's a new series that's been on the major channels for a few weeks, a mystery drama about a girl who moves into a house she inherited from her grandfather. The picture provides a distraction enough to have you forgetting where you are for a brief period three times a week.

You pull the blanket higher. "I do."

He knows it.

The girl on the screen finds a mysterious box hidden in the attic. Perhaps there's something valuable inside. Or information about her grandpa; your fingers tug on a loose blanket thread without much thought.

"What kind?"

Or maybe it's just a time capsule with photos and postcards and random objects collected over the years.

Or-

You had a cat before he took you. A foster grey ragdoll with blue eyes who liked to rest on your belly and bump her head against your chin. You called her Miss Whiskerton and kissed her little nose, because she did act like a proper lady - poised, dignified and entirely too proud to eat food mixed with medicine. The worst enemy Miss Whiskerton has ever had in her cat life was the corner of your couch. When you weren't paying attention, she would dig her claws into the fabric and leave thin lines. You hope that someone took her in.

She probably thought you abandoned her.

"Cats."

Chrollo hums in acknowledgment and continues scrolling through whatever he's looking at - maybe news or auction listings, you don't know nor do you really care. You shift under the blanket, pulling your legs closer to your body.

"We can get one, if you'd like."

"No."

Your answer is immediate and short, without thinking. You know it, you know him by now - there's nothing Chrollo does out of spontaneous generosity, it always benefits him in some way. And you've studied him enough to figure that any pet would only be a tool to keep you tamed and compliant. Puppies make life better. Happier, lighter, with goofy smiling faces and wiggling tails. Cats make life better with soft purrs and paws stomping on your chest. They're too easy to love.

"Why not?" There's a sound of tablet set on a wooden surface.

The girl on the screen is trying to solve a combination lock on the box when the TV switches off and your little world of carefully shot scenes and scripted lines vanishes. You don't need to turn around to guess where's the remote.

She almost had it, but now you won't know what's inside until Thursday evening.

Your reflection stares back from the dead screen, blank-faced and with a blanket pulled up your nose. It tickles a bit. "Because I don't want one."

A chair creaks. "Why?"

You close your eyes shut for a moment before opening them again. This is tiring. Always probing, digging, pushing. Trying to find chinks in your armor, but all you're wearing is just a flimsy dress with thin straps and a blanket you wish could swallow you whole.

"Don't need it."

"You said you like animals," Chrollo sits next to you and places a hand on top of your covered legs. He squeezes your thigh and you stare ahead, wishing he would just leave you alone tonight.

"I do." Your fingers twitch under the blanket, nails scratching at the fabric.

Strange. Sometimes it feels like he understands perfectly that you want to be alone, have time for yourself and don't want his constant physical presence. At the same time Chrollo brushes this all aside like old tin foil wrappers - insignificant. He pulls the blanket down and you cling on it stubbornly for a few seconds before letting go. His thumb and index finger grasp your chin and turn your face towards him so you have no choice but to meet his eyes.

There's such still intensity within him that made your skin crawl whenever he looked at you with this much focus and attention. You don't know what he saw there most times, it used to be fear or anger or sadness - right now it's none of these things. Everything inside you feels jammed and stiff.

"We should get a fish then," he continues, brushing hair out of your forehead. "You can watch it swim around, wouldn't that be nice?"

Chrollo talks to you like this sometimes, as if you're a child who needs to be convinced to eat veggies or take medicine. Like you're simple-minded and he's reasoning with you out of good will. It's sickening. You hate it.

"I don't want a pet," you repeat the words slowly. "If you're going to give me something only to take it away, then I don't want it."

His finger leisurely stroking your chin pauses at the edge of your bottom lip. Something flickers behind his eyes, it's barely noticeable but you've become good at catching those minuscule shifts. He smiles, yet there's nothing joyful about it. "Take it away? Why would I do that, dear?"

"Because that's what you do. Because that's how you are." You don't try to pull free from his hold, he'll only tighten it; not enough to hurt, no, he is too suave and polished for that - or wants to appear so - but enough for you to feel trapped under his palm.

There's something off about you, you can tell, but are not quite able to discern what or where. It sits in the very structure of your bones and eats away with ravenous appetite. An imbalance in the gut. Fever-warm body, cold fingers. Thoughts like potholes.

"And how am I exactly, according to you?" His voice is light, playful, a stark contrast to his eyes that study you with unnerving precision. Chrollo rarely loses his temper and never gets violent with you (yet, you correct yourself), but he has other ways of expressing displeasure, and they're petty, ugly and cold.

"Cruel," the word rolls off your tongue so effortlessly that almost frightens you; it's easy to tell the truth when you're this numb.

He looks taken aback for a split second, and the smile freezes. His hand stops midway to your hair. Then everything's gone.

Chrollo releases you and leans back into the cushions, almost thoughtful, like your observation is something that requires careful consideration.

"I suppose, it depends," he says finally.

"On what?"

"On how you choose to see things. Your perspective is bound to be biased, dear."

You don't respond.

To continue this conversation would be pointless and circular, like running on a treadmill, like everything else between you and Chrollo, really. He simply has too many answers to any possible argument, and no matter how convincing you manage to make them sound, he'll poke holes into each one. You don't want a fish. Or a cat. Or a dog, a bird, anything that moves and breathes and looks at you with big, trusting eyes.

Chrollo is cruel. Not in a way that's straightforward and brutal. Not in a way of someone who'd tear your limbs apart or rip off a fly's wing to see it wiggle. You have no doubt that he is capable of such a thing, but that would be uncouth. Cruelty in his case is a quieter, more delicate affair - in a way of a sculptor who'd chisel off everything unnecessary and unneeded, no matter the size or significance, to produce something entirely his.

His hands are soft, his voice is always composed, and he wears well tailored clothes. But the rest is sharp, clean and merciless.

"I think I'll go to bed," you say and push away the blanket.

"It's early."

"Mm."

He takes your hand just as you're about to slide off the sofa. Chrollo's always faster than you, always ahead and always observing, and that little realization while bitter is not so shocking anymore, more like another fact that you file away from your interactions.

You watch him. Wait.

"You're distraught," he says. "But you should know by now that there's no need for that."

Your hand remains in his grasp, limp and heavy.

"I don't enjoy seeing you upset, dear. Even more if you make false conclusions."

You turn to see the expression on his face - and there isn't one, at least not the type that most people would make. There are no frowning eyebrows, no clenched jaw that would indicate irritation, nothing like that.

"You're giving me too little credit," his tone is quiet as he runs his fingers up and down your wrist. "My intentions are not to hurt you. They are much, much sweeter than that."

"But you would," you say quietly and lean closer, ignoring the obvious implication behind his words. There is a hollow sensation inside of your head that prompts you to speak, everything is hollow - body and mind, heart, the space in your guts, your throat. "You would hurt me, if that's what you thought was necessary. Rip me apart and leave me deformed beyond repair, to fit into whatever framework you've laid, you would do that."

You're not being deliberately cryptic or fatalistic. These are your observations, based on a period of months spent together. They take root in no one being there for you anymore, in your phone which is long gone, in your closed accounts, your missing laptop and old clothes, the entire previous life in the city that has been discarded for something new. Chrollo was very methodical, you can give him that.

He doesn't listen, he studies your responses. Every single word. He has a talent for that, for absorbing everything about you while hardly ever letting you glimpse his interior - all that you know about him are tiny slivers which you picked up through living together, observation, accidental bits.

You expect him to contradict your statement, to offer a logical explanation why you're wrong, but instead Chrollo brings your hand to his lips and presses a kiss against your knuckles. The touch is light and dry.

"You're not entirely wrong, dear," he says and moves closer until you can smell his aftershave, something fresh.

His proximity is uncomfortable, it always is and probably always will be.

"I'm right then," you say.

"No," he keeps your hand in his grasp. "But you're not entirely wrong either. That's what makes you interesting."

There's a strange kind of fondness in his voice, it's subtle, yet undeniably present. You've never felt less interesting in your life, in a dress with thin straps that's too fancy for a lazy day at home and your bare feet and tangled hair.

"If you say so," you respond and slowly tug your hand free. "I really want to sleep now."

You get up, and he lets you go without another proposition. The blanket falls off onto the sofa, and before you slip into the semi-darkness of the bedroom, he says,

"Not beyond repair. But I like to believe we can both agree it doesn't have to come to that."

***

The drive feels endless. Houses and streets blur in a mix of colors, shapes and people, which soon change to an empty highway with greenery on both sides. Trees and fields, tall grass swaying gently in the wind and rare cars passing you by. Chrollo's hand is resting on your leg; he hasn't moved it since the car started, but you choose to ignore it in favor of your regular pastime, the one that's made of imaginary worlds and places where the timeline stretches differently.

Mostly it's just you and the layout of your fake apartment.

Imagine, remake, slip. Repeat the steps until it becomes muscle memory.

You have this daydream on loop now. Wooden floor and wide windows, lots of sunlight. Books everywhere, comfy clothes and not a single skirt in your closet. A cup of tea with honey in the morning, and Miss Whiskerton curled into a soft grey ball on your lap. You feed her salmon in a shiny bowl, occasionally she catches a lizard outside and drops the tail on your doorstep as an offering, looking immensely proud of herself.

A smile slips on your face without meaning to, a wobbly thing; you promptly wipe it off.

It would be a crime to show such blatant joy. This fantasy has become so sweetly personal that every fiber of your being resists even acknowledging it in front of Chrollo. He can sense a stray happy thought from miles away, like a hound, and will never stop prodding until everything is raw and tender. You've learned to say less in his presence, especially if it's something that has you invested. Chrollo knows how to pick things apart.

You lean your cheek against the glass. This world would never happen, never in a million years, but dreaming doesn't hurt anyone, does it?

Your grandma, wearing an apron, sets a tray filled with fresh pastries on a table, because she's amazing like that. She fusses and worries and pretends to scold you. For not calling enough, for not coming sooner, for not eating well. For leaving.

"Dear."

You almost jump.

Chrollo's voice brings you back where his hand is heavy on your leg, you're wearing a dress above the knee and aren't allowed to use scissors or knives.

"Mm?"

"That frown of yours," he says, turning into a small road. The surroundings change again, it's quiet here, not a soul in sight. "It's been there for fifteen minutes now."

You sit up straight and move your hair out of your eyes. Chrollo's a perceptive one, so this is a reminder not to sink too deep around him, unless you absolutely need it.

"Was just thinking."

"You do it a lot lately," he states and looks at you from the corner of his eye.

True, but you have no intention to confirm it. First, he won't like the reason behind these thoughts. Second, he will dig and try to worm his way in. No. Most of what you've been fixating on, staring out of the window like a mindless drone, or reading and rereading pages that you barely grasped, would fail to create anything more complex in his heart than desire to pull it out.

For whatever twisted reason, Chrollo cares for your well-being, or, more precisely, your acceptance of his advances. Yet his way of caring isn't nurturing in any sense.

Chrollo's interest (you don't dare call it love) is crushing, too heavy to carry - he'll find what troubles you and "fix it" in way that will twist it into something pathetic. Something that shows how you have nothing else to cling on but him. You're not stupid enough to keep falling into this trap. Being a slow learner doesn't mean you don't learn at all.

He's done it before. He'll do it again. So you reply, "I haven't noticed."

His thumb rubs circles on your thigh; you press your shoulder against the car door as if hoping it might open. It doesn't, much to your disappointment.

"What was on your mind then?"

Something you shouldn't tell him, that's for sure. Chrollo's watching you, even if his eyes are trained on the road.

"Random stuff," you say. Half-truths, half-truths are safe. "A weird dream I had this morning."

If you bothered to look, you'd see a raised eyebrow and the faintest hint of amusement at the corners of his mouth. You don't.

"Tell me."

You hate when he does that.

"It was boring."

"I'm interested in anything that made you so pensive."

Chrollo likes conversations with you, even if they're short. You can tell that he does, or he wouldn't be trying to make you talk and getting subtly frustrated when you choose not to. It never shows outright, Chrollo is very gifted at keeping his calm exterior, but there are certain giveaways like the slight tightening of his hand, an emphasized "dear", a pause here, or a quiet exhale through the nose. You could make a list out of these.

If you ignore him, he gets quiet and handsy or petty enough to throw away the only dress you feel comfortable in. Stop bringing you new books. Take you to places you hate.

It's always the small things that kill you, not the big, dramatic ones. The devils in the details.

"There was a lizard," you begin, and he hums in response, prompting you to continue. "It was cute with brown spots and a tiny tail."

Lies weave themselves easily, intertwine with truths and turn it into something that resembles a story.

"It was sitting on my windowsill and I wanted to pet it. A cat came out of nowhere and almost ate it, then I woke up. It's a silly dream."

There. Nothing to dissect here, not that you can see. Just a nonsensical dream, filled with random happenings and strange emotions.

"And that's why you frowned for fifteen minutes?"

"Yes, I got sad."

Yes, you think. Yes, Chrollo. I frowned, because I care for the damn lizard that doesn't exist, an animal from a dream. A stupid musing, nothing special, a very mundane and simple thing, because people do have silly dreams sometimes, and it's not a crime. It's not a crime and has nothing to do with that fact that I have a whole dream world where I'm not with you in my head.

"How peculiar. You never struck me as the type to get upset over something like this."

"You never asked," you respond flatly and Chrollo's hand on your thigh moves an inch.

It brushes up, closer to where you really, really don't want it to be, so you squeeze his fingers hard and redirect them to the curve of your knee.

"True," he says after a pause, not sounding too bothered. A month ago you would've brushed his hand off completely, probably that's why. Chrollo is convinced that with enough patience and effort he'll be able to close that final barrier between you both. Time, coaxing, a dose or two of endearment, some carefully calculated touch - but you'd rather stick a knife through your ribs than have sex with him. Or his patience will simply run out and he'll rape you. You're not delusional. Not a fool. "Well, that can be fixed. I'll make sure to ask about your dreams more often, dear."

You lean back into the seat and stare ahead, this time without anything pleasant on your mind. Of course he will. Of course he'll take this as a sign to dig deeper and invade that small bit of solace, Chrollo can't simply co-exist. He wants it all.

"Mm," you say.

Your new vocabulary is such a handy thing.

#hunter x hunter #chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere #hunter x hunter fanfic #chrollo lucifer x reader #shalott fanfiction

[sadbenedict]

I think abt this a lot but would Suguru try and off himself w the chain? You said it was super long so like what's stopping him from strangling himself when he's eventually had enough? 🐴

oh.....omg... i didn't think of it....

maybe. I imagine Gojo caught him doing this and could have threatened him that if he did something to himself, he'd do something to the twins? So Suguru wouldn't do it again It might even give Suguru a scar on neck or something like that

from: @melly0990

Since gojo is basically a yandere in your basement au what would he do when yuij tries to free geto? Would he hurt him?

I don't think he would actually hurt his students((( I think he's confident in his plan and doesn't believe that Yuji can actually free Geto.

from: /omg I forgot to tag and deleted it I'm stupid, sorry/

Humans need sunlight to literally survive without getting all sickly and right now I'm just imagining Gojo buying those plant UV-light things and placing them all over the room because, "it's basically sunlight right??"

OMG I'm crying he is smart and stupid at the same time I can't-

just imagine Geto's face....

from: @kfmcykdy

Will we get more basement AU fics in the future

I don't know... if someone want to write more, I will be happy :D

#au #basement au #jjk #stsg #satosugu #gego #jujutsu kaisen suguru #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu geto #jujutsu kaisen fanart #fanart #suguru geto #jjk suguru #geto suguru #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo saturo #jjk satoru #art #digital art #digital #illustration #digital illustration #digital painting #yaoi

[bgomtori]

☆ falling behind - k.th

synopsis - where everyone around you falls in love but you.

-> taehyun x reader

-> strangers to potential lovers, college au!

-> warnings! talks about the inability to fall inlove, yn zones out a lot, mentions of almost dying and being suicidal, alcohol, slowburn

-> note! happy tyun day!! love this man so much :' + laufey is so theraputic, i love her songs sm

love, a complex and profound emotion, an emotion experienced by many at least once in their lifetime. many may find solace in the warmth of shared gazes and the gentleness of intertwined fingers. love is like a canvas painted with the hues of understanding and compassion, where every stroke tells a story of shared excitement, or even bitter arguements. however, not everything is perfect, love can be exhausting and scary. while people yearn for the feeling of affection, some individuals decide to isolate themselves and prevent hurting themselves in the future, and completely destroy the meaning of love.

you sighed at the thought of being attracted to someone romantically, as you listened to your friends' sappy love stories about their partners, you couldn't help but feel a tinge of jealousy in your heart. when someone confesses their feelings to you, you can't help but feel disgusted, why can't you feel any romantic feelings towards anyone, like a normal human being? were you a robot? why can everyone around you fall for each other but you? your best friends have been in and out of relationships for god knows how many times, but you could only watch that happen. while everyone was falling inlove, you were falling behind.

"the right one will come to you, maybe by then, you'll feel your heart racing faster." ningning reassured you. but how? how would you know how love would feel like? you looked down, feeling devastated about the thought that you may never get married in the future. "don't worry yn! they'll come to you, it may not be in college, but maybe when you start working? who knows, or maybe they're here right now?" giselle exclaimed, trying to be more positive after seeing your gloomy state.

"i've never fallen in love with anyone before, how am i supposed to know how that feels." you groaned, stirring your coffee even though the milk has already been mixed in. "don't worry! the both of us can help you." you looked up from your sad coffee, just to see your friends stare at you with hopeful looks, you couldn't help but chuckle at them.

"fine." you couldn't believe you agreed to something like that, how were you going to find someone to try, or force yourself to fall inlove with. you were an introvert, you barely knew anyone that was in your college, all you did was follow your friend group around campus and laugh along with their jokes. as you left the cafe, walking in the opposite direction of your friends, you couldn't help but wonder how it was like for you to openly like someone, hold hands, or even kiss. the thought made you cringe, hell no, you can't imagine yourself doing that. however, the sound of finally having a shoulder to cry on, and calling someone yours, made you smile to yourself, that must be nice.

you were completely lost in your own world, not even noticing the traffic light infront of you, it was still red. cars quickly zooming past before the green man appears, you were clueless enough to almost step foot onto the busy street, until someone yanked you away, making you shriek in fear. you came back to your senses, finally realising that you were infront of a traffic light, you looked over your shoulder to notice the man holding you back from almost killing yourself. he was quite attractive, despite his outfit being a graphic tee with some sweatpants on, he had a nice face with big eyes.

"are you blind, or suicidal? why would you walk onto a road with oncoming vehicles." his tone was harsh, you could feel him belittling you. "i was lost in my thoughts, sorry.." you spoke barely in a whisper, slightly embarrassed that a stranger had to save you from a tragedy. he finally let go of your bag, walking away into the distant, you stared at his disappearing figure, wondering why he looked so familiar.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

"please yn, let's watch the football finals tonight. don't you wanna support our school." giselle whined, hugging onto your arm. "fine.." you grumbled, you were forced into this, you wanted to go home earlier today after your lecture and rest, but the universe has planned a different fate for you.

"yes! then you're gonna follow us to the after party too." your head turned towards ningning so fast, your head could fly off. "i didn't agree to that." you almost shouted, "nuh uh, you need to socialise, especially since you're in college." ningning gave you a smug look before walking off towards her classroom. you rubbed your head in annoyance, you couldn't believe that you were forced into this, but you were slightly excited, maybe you could find the someone you've been longing for. you quickly shook your head, why would you be thinking about stuff like that now. what are the chances that you would meet your future partner.

"i hate this so much." you mumbled to yourself, taking a seat near the back of the lecture theatre, trying to complete the last few questions of the homework assigned. you hoped that the day would go by faster, so that you could be in the comfort of your own home. yet again, you were occupied by your own thoughts, zoning in and out of lessons, only to be interrupted by the sudden movement at the front of the lecture hall.

"kang taehyun, how many times have you been late to class this month alone." the lecturer complained, taehyun apologised for his tardiness, completely ignoring the lecturers fussing as he made his way to the back of the class, where the only seat available was the one beside you. you stared at his face, trying to make out who he was, he felt familiar.

"oh it's you." he suddenly said, you looked at him with a puzzled expression on your face. that was the guy who saved you yesterday, you blushed at the sudden memory. how embarrassing.. "is this class the reason why you wanted to walk onto oncoming traffic? if it was, i understand." taehyun joked, taking out his laptop from his bag. you rolled your eyes at him, did he really think that you wanted to kill yourself?

"i already told you last night, i was just in my own world, i didn't notice the road infront of me." you retorted, taehyun chuckled at you, bringing his attention back to what the lecturer was teaching. you couldn't help but sneak glances at taehyun, he had to admit that he was fucking attractive, how have you not noticed him before. heck, you didn't even know that he was in your class to begin with. you quickly snapped yourself out of it, trying to focus in class.

"you really zone out a lot." a voice brought you back to reality, you didn't even realise that class had already ended, which part of lesson did you zone out at? "sorry, i think i'm just tired.." you rubbed your heavy lidded eyes, about to leave your seat.

"i'll send you my lecture notes, you gotta repay me though." taehyun stated, you stared at him in confusion, why was he acting so nicely to you? "what are you staring at me for? do you want to fail?" ouch, he was really straightforward. you gave taehyun your email in order for him to email you his notes. you briefly thanked him, walking out of the lecture theatre as fast as you could. you saw your friend group standing in the distance, probably waiting for you, you jogged up to them, giving them an apology for holding up their time.

"what took you so long?" ningning asked, eyeing you suspiciously.

"i zoned out in class, so i needed to get notes from my tablemate, sorry." you explained yourself. ningning gave you a slow nod before pulling you along with her, "well, let's go hang in your dorm before we head out for the match."

not long after, you've been lazing around with ningning and giselle, talking about basic things like what you did during the day, your classes, and obviously, their current partners. you sighed into the palm of your hand, looking down at your phone, scrolling aimlessly on tiktok, nodding your head occassionally at what they had to say.

"i'm so excited to support him later, hey yn, do you want me to introduce some players on the football team to you? i think there's some that may suit you." giselle suddenly questioned, you flinched at the sudden question, shit, you weren't listening at all up till that point.

"it's fine, i'm not looking for anyone right now." you mumbled out your answer, apparently that upsetted giselle, causing her to pout at your words. "you gotta have a look at them, seeing you all single and lonely hurts me too." she whined into your arm, making you cringe a little. you let out a nervous chuckle, pulling her away from your arm, "i'll try."

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

this was definitely new to you, the loud screaming, along with the band blasting in the background felt foreign to you. the stadium was packed with students from your school and the opponent's school. the guys were already warming up on the sideline, getting in their stretches as quickly as possible, looking up at the bleachers time to time to spot their friends, family or partners. you looked at the players from the opposing school, you have to say they looked really tough to play against, hopefulky your school would be able to beat them.

now you scanned the players from your school, but to your luck, you accidentally made eye contact with a certain black haired male, kang taehyun? you really didn't know he was apart of your school's football team. you stared at him with widened eyes, shocked to find him there. he caught your gaze, returning the same surprised look you had before slowly waving at you. you looked around you, maybe he was waving at someone else? ah fuck it, you waved back at him, giving him an awkward smile.

"you know taehyun?" ningning teased, bumping your shoulder as if you successfully flirted with someone. you rolled your eyes, "yea, he's in my class. he was the one who gave me notes earlier today." you bluntly replied.

"ooo, he isn't the type who would help someone so easily." giselle smirked, giving you a knowing glance. you glared at her, no. you and taehyun would never be something like that, he was out of your league, and especially if you may not even feel any romantic attraction, you can never be with taehyun.

"that'll never happen." you whispered out, leaning onto the railings infront of you, staring at taehyun as he runs across the field, dribbling the ball with his foot before passing it over to his teammate. yea, he was kinda attractive, but he was off-limits. you hear chanting from your side of the stadium, before it turned to loud screams of delight. they scored, your school scored. you clapped your hands, smiling at the field infront of you. this was fun, something out of your comfort zone, yet so exhilarating.

the match was extremely close, it was currently a tie between your school and the opposing school, the win for your school was dependent on this singular penalty kick. the whistle was finally blowed, signalling for the penalty kick. the tension was high, the stadium was pin-drop silent, eyes fixated on the ball infront of taehyun. everyone was praying for either a good or bad outcome, taehyun took a deep breath in, backing up from the ball slightly, getting a few jogs in before kicking the ball towards the goal.

there was a brief silence before the referee called for the whistle. the game ended, the crowd roared in happiness, screaming their lungs off. the boys on the field jumped onto taehyun, hugging him.

"holy shit, you just helped us win the entire season, you sick bastard." yeonjun yelled, slightly tearing up. taehyun smiled widely at his teammates, if it weren't for them, he wouldn't be able to score that perfect goal at the end.

"they did so well!" ningning slapped you shoulder, along with giselle, making the two of you hiss in pain. "come on now, let's go to the after party before it gets too crowded." ningning exclaimed, hugging the two of you by the shoulder, pulling you guys towards the taxi stand.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

"let's all get fucking wasted tonight, this win was ours, let's celebrate it." a tall, lean male shouted causing the whole room to burst in screams and cheers. this night was going to be a hectic one.

fuck, but now this was an awkward situation for you. you were sitting at the corner of the room, sipping on the alcoholic beverage you had in hand, snacking on the snacks infront of you. apparently, giselle and ningning left you to take care of their bags while they were off finding their partners, it's even worse that you barely knew anyone here, you only knew their names, but have you spoken to any of them? that was another thing.

you scrolled on your phone, tuning out the obnoxiously loud music that was blasting, you really wanted to leave. you were zoning out from time to time, either that or observing the people around you. pockets of couples dancing with one another, or making out with each other near where the toilets were, gross. you sighed to yourself, this was getting boring, how much longer into the night must you be here? giselle was supposed to introduce some of the football players to you, but guess that was scraped off her agenda.

"zoning off again?" a voice broke your trance, making you jolt in your seat. it was kang taehyun, again.

"you don't seem like the type who would go to parties." taehyun assumed, taking a seat next to you.

"i was forced here." you simply replied, not wanting to socialise with anyone right now. there was awkward silence between the two of you, allowing you to dive into your thoughts again. recently, you realise that you have been seeing taehyun more often than usual, why was that? was it because he saved you from not accidentally killing yourself.

"you wanna leave this place together?"

"excuse me, what?"

"you heard me, wanna ditch this place, i'm getting bored here." taehyun admitted, shrugging his shoulder while waiting for your response. you played around with your fingers, you were getting bored as well, but is it really worth it to leave this place with a guy you barely knew? furthermore, you have two designer bags that were entrusted to you. well fuck it, you're gonna leave with an attractive guy.

"you know what? sure." you stood up, looking down at the male who was staring at you with shocked eyes, taehyun could only chuckle at your actions, pulling you through the crowd. finally, the air didn't feel hot and sticky anymore. the cool breeze hit your skin, making you shiver slightly. you quietly followed behind taehyun to his car, hoping that he wouldn't knock you up in his car or something.

"where are we going?" you asked, your voice was soft, you weren't exactly comfortable with going into a vehicle with a male in it.

"i know a spot, i find you interesting, i wanna get to know you more." taehyun answered, unlocking his car door. you sat in the passenger seat, not knowing what to do. this was so new to you.

"don't feel too uncomfortable, i won't do anything bad." taehyun reassured, reading your exact thoughts. you nodded your head slowly, looking out of the window, taking in the views while softly humming to the music in the background.

"you're not a talker aren't you?" taehyun broke the silence, trying to brighten the tense atmosphere, only to be shot down by your quick, 'yea'. taehyun remained quiet for most of the ride, unable to find topics to talk about.

"what's your view on love?" you suddenly questioned, taehyun was taken aback, he didn't know how to respond to your inquiry. did you always start conversations like that?

"hmm, i think it's quite meaningful?" taehyun was deep in thought, what really was his view on love. he didn't know, it comes and goes for him, he has never experienced real love. "how about you? you must have had a horrible experience to ask me that question." taehyun shot back the question to you. you stared out of the window, unable to form any words, you barely knew this guy, but he seems reliable.

"it sucks."

"what?"

"i think love is hard to understand." you mumbled, feeling slightly embarrassed, now you looked like a loser.

"wow, what made you think that." you pursed your lips, opening up to a new person was harder than you expected. "it's better if i don't tell you.."

"why not? don't trust me enough?" you groaned, rolling your eyes in the process, "i barely know who you are, i'm not telling you my personal feelings." he was getting on your nerves, even though he didn't do anything to harm you.

"yet you're sitting in my car, not knowing where i'm bringing you. wow your priorities are set." taehyun sarcastically said, he was right, you remained silent, unable to argue back. "cat got your tongue?" taehyun tease, you could hear the smirk that was adorned on his face.

"just shut up." you scoffed at him, bringing your attention back to the scenary outside. it was empty, too empty for your liking, at this point you felt like you were getting kidnapped. you recited multiple prayers in your head, you haven't even been able to live your cat lady dreams, but now you may be killed by a football player. how sad is that? you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping that maybe a slight nap would be the solution to whatever was happening currently.

"we're here." you stirred from your nap, looking around to check your surroundings. an empty, secluded field, away from the vibrant and bustling city, away from the chaos happening at the party, this was theraputic. the way the wind blew gently into your face, the pretty view of the ocean, plus the night sky embellished with countless stars, the moon's soft glow adds a touch of silver to the tranquil scene.

"you always come here?" you sat next to taehyun, making yourself comfortable as you watched each wave crash onto the rocks below.

"yea, to relieve stress or when i wanna be alone. feels nice right?" taehyun took a deep breath in, the air felt so much cleaner here compared to the polluted air in the city centre. you nodded your head, humming in response, "so why'd you bring me here?"

"nothing in particular, you're quite interesting i guess." taehyun shrugged, his large brown eyes meeting yours, you felt yourself heat up under his intense gaze, what's this feeling? why does it feel so icky, yet so nice..

"so, about earlier, can you tell me why.. why you think love is so complicated." you let out a nervous chuckle after hearing his words, he's going to make fun of you, definitely. "it's kinda embarrassing." you whispered, rubbing your sweaty palms against your thighs.

"i won't judge." taehyun reassured, his eyes speaking to you that he can be trusted. you sighed, comtemplating on whether you should tell him or not, your head was telling you no, but your heart said otherwise.

"i, i don't think i can ever fall for someone romantically, and even if i did, i don't think i'll be able to commit into a relationship." you admitted, your voice was barely a whisper.

"have you tried it with the right person?" taehyun suggested, his eyes now fixated on the glimmering stars in the sky, you continued to gaze at the ocean, knees proped up to your chin, resting your gead on your knees.

"no."

"then that's the problem i guess." taehyun said non-chalantly. "no, but i've not felt any of those sensations you get when you're in love, like butterflies in your stomach, kicking your feet in bed when they reply you. i want to feel those as well, but it's so hard.. seeing all my friends fall in love is so wholesome and it makes me feel happy for them, but what about me? i'm always falling behind." you complained, plucking the grass beneath. you could feel him staring at you, your eyes darting around the empty field as if you were searching for something. his silence was killing you, you shouldn't have said that, the longer the silence was, the more you felt smaller under his piercing gaze.

"sorry–"

"what are you sorry for?" you smacked taehyun's shoulder for interrupting your apology, "let me finish, i'm sorry for suddenly ranting to you like that."

"you're apologising for that? you're cute." taehyun joked, laughing at you. your face started to heat up, how humiliating, you should have shut your mouth from the first place, but that wasn't the thing that bothered you, rather the fact that he called you cute. why was it that when it came out of his mouth, you feel flustered?

"you're just protecting yourself from hurting yourself, there's no wrong in that. even if it means you barely experience what love feels like, it's better to build up your walls than to go through a heartbreak." taehyun looked into your eyes, before looking at the ocean again.

"but experiencing love is better than never being able to have a shoulder to cry on, or rely on. i just want to find someone to love too." you groaned, hoping that it'll make him understand where you're coming from. as much as you supported your friends with their love lives, you've always wanted to have what they have, but your heart shuts this emotion out.

"then wanna try with me?" taehyun suddenly blurted out, his eyes gazing into your now widened eyes. is he insane, does he want to get heartbroken this badly?

"you're not gonna want to be with me." you mumbled, rubbing your fingers against one another.

"but this is my own decision, let's try it. you've not met the right person to love yet, maybe i can be the one." his hands on top of yours, as if he was reassuring you that it was fine to try out love with him. your heart skipped a beat, what is this? why are you feeling so giddy? your lips tugged upwards, "alright." you agreed to his proposal, making taehyun smile to himself, his thumb playing with your hand.

"you know i've noticed you for some time, i've always thought that you were quite cute and interesting." taehyun admitted, his cheeks flushing a light hue of pink that was barely visible under the moonlight.

"what." your jaw dropped, here you were thinking that no one was into you.

"crazy right?" you nodded your head.

"let's go now, it's getting late, i'll send you home." taehyun quickly stood up, pulling you up together with him, walking back to his car, this time hand in hand.

perm taglist! (send an ask to be added) @mrsyawnzzn @tinyelfperson

#txt scenarios #txt imagines #kang taehyun #txt fanfic #txt fluff #txt imagine #txt #taehyun imagines #txt taehyun #taehyun x reader #taehyun fluff #taehyun reactions #taehyun fanfic #taehyun

[snenbubs]

I did it. I did it and nobody stopped me. I'm unstoppable.

I love this horrible big man spider christmas tree ass guy, a bit too much. I've alr done general romantic HCs but IT WASNT ENOUGH.

... so here. Mammon (Helluva Boss) x GN reader NSFW headcannons. I need severe help, but so do you, so....

NSFW Under the cut! 18+ Only!

♡ I've seen a few people claim he'd he a lazy lover, nd whilst i see where they're coming from, i completely disagree. He's the embodiment of Greed, not Sloth! I think, if anything, he's more like an overwhelming, smothering kind of lover ykwm.

- I've said this before, and I will reiterate it, his hands are gonna be on you, all over you. Four hands, might I add. 😋

- I like to think he'd keep one pair on your hips, holding you in place as close to him as he possibly can, because he just NEEDS every inch of you and the other pair would be constantly roaming your body, finding places to squeeze or hold.

- In addition to this i think he'd like any kind of position where he can be as close to you as possible. Your presence overwhelms him and he needs all of it at once so you better be prepared to be pressed flush against his fluffy body.

- His mouth? Always on you. He likes being able to taste you, in more than just one way; biting, kissing... and more...

Also, his tongue is forked. Just thought i'd mention it. Yk. A lil fun fact for your day.

♡ In regards to biting however, i mentioned in my other HCS that he's pretty possesive and that applies here too;

- He gets jealous easy and when he gets jealous he bites harder. Its like a mark, his special mark. He wants people to see you with those bruises, hickeys and bite marks coating your pretty flesh because it means everyone knows you're his.

- If he gets jealous, and bare in mind it does not take a lot to make him jealous, expect not to be able to walk in the morning.

- I feel, due to his needy nature, he's quite a rough lover. I want to believe he tries to be gentle because there will almost definitely be a size difference between you two and you could get hurt, but he can get caught up in the moment and i think he often ends up quite rough.

- Even rougher when jealous.

♡ In general though?

- He deffo drools. You can say "ew gross" all you want but to me? its hot, and he does it, and im the one writing this so theres NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT.

- He definitely has a thing for master/pet relationships BUT i think he also gets a big kick out of hearing you cry out his name.

- I also don't think he's too loud during the act. He makes some noises, probably grunts and maybe a whine if your lucky, but he's mostly silent. If he has his hat on then the sound of jingling bells will probably be extremely overwhelming.

- The thing is, he has to be quiet! Because if he isn't quiet, then he can't hear the sweet sounds you'll be making. And oh, he just LOVES them. He could get drunk off of them. He DOES get drunk off of them.

- By no means though, will he shut his trap. He likes making fun of you, mocking you, making jokes and being generally mean. It's just who he is you gotta accept it.

- His voice is hot though so its a win.

- He probably has a control problem, in that he has to be the one doing everything. If you beg, he might let you take the lead for a bit but ultimately he'll take charge.

- Often though its probably just because you aren't doing things fast enough for him, he has a very high and extremely greedy libido and he knows what he wants.

- Webs. WEBS.

- He is not against tying you up with them, all you have to do is ask. A lot of time, he'll so it so that he can be ever closer to you than he already is.

- But like i said, its your word. If you give the thumbs up then he'll have you bound in no time at all. I'll leave it to your own imagination.

Thats all for now... mayhaps in future i'll do more, make a pt2 or smth but honestly i'm outta ideas.

#helluva boss x reader #Mammon HB x reader #Mammon HB x reader smut #Helluva boss x reader smut #GRRRWOOF WOOF WOOF #I NEED HIM SO BAD #WHY ISNT HE REAL

[httpswritings]

broken cycle — Alexia Putellas x Reader

Warnings: masturbation mentions

Word count: 825

Summary: The aftermath of putting your sexual encounters with Alexia to an end.

A/N: Third part of vicious cycle

You decided to put an end to your sexual encounters with Alexia. Your body couldn't stand the feeling of touching her. The love you had for that woman was quickly accompanied by a feeling of shame that ended in pure numbness. She took it well; that's what you saw from her. The only thing she asked was if she had done something wrong or if she had hurt you. That was the worst part; her still being this considerate to you couldn't make you hate her.

You watched her from afar, but both of you still had a friendly tone when you had to talk to each other for football duties.

Little did you know Alexia was not doing well without your touch. She missed you, and to her surprise, not only sexually. Alexia knew she had fallen in love with you, but she was convinced that she could put her feelings aside and keep meeting you at your house without any trouble.

She had spent a bunch of nights crying herself to sleep, missing you. Her sex drive almost disappeared, as if you had kept her desire for love and passion.

One day, the idea of pleasuring herself to the thought of you came to her mind, so she proceeded to do it. She closed her eyes as she watched in her mind the image of you being on top of her. She imagined you doing all kinds of things to her body. As she was about to reach her orgasm, she mumbled a delicate “I love you.” When she came back to reality, she sobbed at the memory of you.

When you were near her, she had to pretend to be okay, as if nothing had happened.

One day, Mapi asked Alexia if she could give her number to a good friend of hers. “Ale, Sara is really nice. You won't regret having a date with her.” You were next to them, changing into your kit, and you felt Alexia's eyes on you. “No, Mapi, I'm sorry.”

Mapi sighed. “C'mon, I don't remember the last time you talked to me about a woman. You need to go out and meet some people!” You looked toward them when you heard Mapi say that. You had been Alexia's secret for a few months, and whatever relationship you had with her was non-exclusive, as you weren't dating. Didn't Alexia get with other women since she started seeing you?

As Alexia looked at you, she said, “I'm not interested in doing that. Maybe I could do it with someone I've already been with, but I'm not looking forward to meeting other women.” You smiled forcefully, taking her comment as her way of saying, “I still want to have sex with you as we used to.“ Little did you know Alexia had given her comment a deeper meaning. “Ale, Olga is not in Barcelona anymore, and Jenni is in Mexico. Can you tell me with whom you are planning to do that? That's why I'm insisting on you meeting other women; it'll do you good, amiga.”

“If I get with a woman, I'll do it to enter into a relationship, not something sporadic. I've just realized how much I crave that, but I understand some other people are not looking for that.” You frowned. Was Alexia lying to Mapi just to get rid of her insistence, or was she serious? “I'm just scared to be vulnerable, Mapi; you know it's not easy for me.” You've had enough of only listening to the conversation and not participating, so you anticipated Mapi's response. “Maybe you need to look for a woman who won't judge you. Someone who would want everything with you. But you have to take the risk.”

-

«I meant every word I said in the locker room.» That was the text message you received from Alexia. «Come home, Ale.» You didn't want to have that conversation on the phone. You heard the bell ring, and when you opened the door, Alexia didn't even let you greet her. “I mean it. I don't want to meet other women. I want you. I miss you every day and every night. I can't stand not touching you, not kissing you, not being alone with you. I don't want to only have sex; I want a future with you, one we both deserve.” You stood there in silence. “I love you...” That's when you lost it. Hearing Alexia pronounce those words, which were directed at you, made you run onto her arms. 

As you deepened the kiss, you began to lose your patience. You had had enough time without feeling her skin against yours that the only thing you wanted to do was make love with her, but Alexia had other plans. When she noticed your intentions, she stopped you. “Let's not do this today. I want to show you that I crave you in every aspect of you, not only sexually.”

#alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso #woso imagine #woso x reader

[after-witch]

TPOF!Ren Imagine

Title: TPOF!Ren imagine [Ren Hana x Reader]

Synopsis: What if you were taken by Strade? What if you escaped, leaving Ren behind? And what if you just happened to bump into Ren, years later?

Word count: 2100ish

note: kidnapped reader, drugging, descriptions of violence and torture, scars, kidnapping, descriptions of noncon sex, just a stream of consciousness written imagine that I did before bed because I have no self control, take that as you will

Imagine Strade has kept you. You spend weeks, months--more?--being tortured in ways you could never have imagined. But you live. Somehow or another, you live.

You're kept there, like Ren, as an interesting pet. And the two of you share a tentative bond, in time. He did help you, after all...

But... you're afraid of Ren. A little. Not because he's ever been mean to you or hurt you without Strade forcing him to--but because you know that Strade can be fickle. He might decide he likes Ren better, and get rid of you.

Or maybe someone else he brings home will catch his eye, and he'll ponder getting rid of one of you... and who is more likely to go to make room for another long term victim, you wonder, the boy with fox ears or plain, simple you? It's obvious.

So sometimes, you're afraid of Ren. Afraid that Ren's existence will eventually mean your demise.

But you have your moments together.

Moments where you curl up in Ren's nest of a bed, letting his warm tail wrap around you, ignoring the way your shock collars occasionally clink together while you snuggle. Sometimes you whisper things to each other. Hopes. Fears. Secrets. Dreams for the future, which are sometimes shared fantasies of escaping together, going somewhere, starting anew.

There are shared pains, too. You sneak into the bathroom and clean each other's wounds, as much as you know Strade will allow without crossing an unspoken boundary. You press cool cloths to his burning cuts, he gently massages your healed but always-aching broken fingers.

Sometimes, Strade makes you hurt each other. Usually, Ren wins out in the end. But you have no chance against claws. You don't hold it against Ren after the fact, but sometimes when you're sharing a bed at night or a quiet moment when Strade is out of the house, you can't help but think about the way his claws rip through your flesh or the way his knot hurt when Strade yanked him out early.

And one day... Strade is dead. You scream for Ren when it happens--some new victim he's captured finally getting one over on him, not without their own fatal wounds--and Ren watches Strade die, and you watch Strade die, and then the two of you are standing over his gaping-mouth corpse.

The two of you head upstairs, the basement thick with quiet, and for the first time you don't have to worry about hearing Strade's footsteps come up them.

Ren's collar comes off first. Then he helps you with yours.

And you should--say something. You should tell him that the two of you will leave, go to the police, find an apartment, figure out what to do--something, anything.

But in the moment, you panic. You panic because you see in Ren's eyes that he wants you to stay with him and you're so afraid of being trapped again.

You bolt. You bolt out the front door and don't look back. You hear Ren shout your name and the pad of his feet up to the front door, but he doesn't cross the threshold.

You should go back for him. You should tell the police that he's there. But you're afraid. Your face was on Strade's streams. Who knew what sort of people watched them? What if you were recognized? Strade wasn't shy about the fact that powerful people watched his streams. What if... one of them was connected with the police department?

And so you don't say a damn thing. You pick up the pieces of your life and there's a part of you that you left in that damned house with Ren that rots and festers, but you can't let it stop you. You hate yourself for leaving. You hate yourself for not going back.

But you might have hated yourself if you stayed, too.

And then it's been years... and years.... and years.

You still suffer from your time with Strade. Mentally. Physically. The scars have faded, but they never go fully away, some white-blanched and others still retaining a tinge of vivid pink. You hate those the most.

And there's the aches and pains, too. Arthritis in your fingers and hands. A fracture in your foot that didn't heal properly, but you didn't have the health insurance to get it fixed, and now you walk with a limp and cane on bad days.

You get nightmares. Most of the time, you're right back in the house or the basement. Being tortured. Slow and thick dreams that are usually coupled with sleep paralysis. Ren is in them, sometimes, and he's scared and hateful and you wake up with that gnawing, awful guilt.

But you force it down. You have to--Ren was an adult, too, just like you. That's how you cope with the guilt. You tell yourself that he left the house and found himself a small place to live and he's doing fine out there. Working at a bookshop or some anime collectible store. Something that helps him get by. He'll have scars and nightmares, too, but he'll be okay, for the most part.

Just like you are.

Because you've moved on as much as one could, considering. You have a spouse--ten years together, now--and a house with a little yard and a career that leaves you comfortable enough, financially. You don't have kids but your spouse has nieces and nephews that you enjoy spoiling now and then, and that's enough for you.

You were so hyper-vigilant after your initial escape. You wore wigs, and went outside only rarely. You hopped around from place to place, used fake names. You had locks upon locks upon locks on your doors. You never went home the same way twice.

But over time... you gradually stopped worrying. When 1 year became 5 years became 10 years, when time aged your face and slowed your racing heart. When you got a long-term partner and stopped hopping to new places every year, terrified that someone would come find you.

Over the years, you stop looking over your shoulder everywhere you go. You stop assuming every stranger staring at you on the bus recognizes you from Strade's streams and is going to kidnap you and kill you. You stop thinking about it as an immediate threat and treat it like past trauma--to be dealt with, sure, but to be tucked away for your sanity.

And one day, one ordinary little day, you're walking around a secondhand collectible store to look for a particular book when you bump into someone.

The first thing you notice is that they're wearing a nice suit, tailored, like they're going to a business meeting or live in a big city where such outfits are considered casual wear.

The second thing you notice, when you look up at their face with an apology on your lips, is that underneath the hat that they lift every so gently, they have fox ears and scars and red hair peppered with just a dash of silver.

It takes you a moment. Two moments. Three moments.

It's Ren.

Older, like you. But Ren, clear as day, there is no doubt about it.

Relief and an awful, stomach-churning anxiety spread through your gut at the exact same time.

"Ren?"

He doesn't react at first, merely stares at you, and your nightmares come back to you: those nightmares where he hates you, where he tells you that you left him there like he's nothing, where he throws back all your whispered conversations in the dark back in your face.

And then a little smile splits his face and the gut-churning fear in your stomach recedes just enough for you not to shake when he places two hands on your shoulders, steady, and firm.

"Hey. It's okay. It's been a long time."

You break into something like a laugh, and tears prick at your eyes before sliding down your cheeks.

"How..." You don't know what to ask first. How is this possible? How are you? Why are you here? Are you okay?

And finally you settle on something that's eaten away at your soul, bit by bit, since you ran away.

"I'm... sorry." You can't look him in the eye. "I shouldn't have just left that day. But I was scared, and I--"

He places a finger to your lips, and the claw at the end seems sharper now, polished and carefully filed.

"Don't," he says. "It doesn't matter now." He has a coolness to his voice, a shrugging tone to it all. You wonder if it matches your own tone, sometimes, when you're confronted with reminders of the past.

"Do you... want to get coffee or something?" You ask, and you immediately feel stupid, asking if someone who was tortured alongside you (who hurt you, too--but he had to) for coffee like they were an old high school friend.

But he smiles, a little grinning pep to it now, a little bit of an edge with his teeth showing, and says, "Sure."

You leave the shop together, book forgotten, intent on catching up.

It should bother you, that he didn't look actually surprised to see you. It should bother you, that he swept you out of the store so quickly.

But you're too overwhelmed by his presence to notice little things like that.

You don't even notice the black car parked down the street that turns only only when Ren leads you into a coffee shop, pulling around the corner into a nearby alleyway.

You don't think twice about Ren texting someone after you arrive. You don't think twice about Ren ordering for you, motioning for you to find a seat, insisting on taking both cups to the little stand with sugar and creamers himself.

You don't think twice about the taste of the coffee being a little off. Ren put in too much sugar, probably. You used to take it much sweeter, back then, when Strade allowed the two of you to indulge in cup after cup to stay awake for nighttime streams.

It's a shame the hyper-vigilance ebbed away, really, because if you had noticed any one of these things, maybe you would have left the situation. Though, in the end, would it have stopped him?

You focus on awkward small talk. Asking what he's been up to (running his own business) and how he feels (better than ever) and whether he's okay (are you?).

He asks you questions, too, and you find yourself spilling it all too easily. You talk about your spouse, your cute little home, the garden you planted, the books you've read, the little career you've built. You ask if he still likes anime and he smiles, and then your hand is on his arm--you can see some of the scars on his hand, and your own, too--and feel so bad so you start to apologize again---

That's when things get... woozy. Your hand slips from his arm, and you can't grasp your coffee cup. You mumble something about not feeling good.

Ren is standing right away, helping you to your feet. He pulls out his phone and says he'll call an ambulance. You try to wave it off, you're fine, you're just overwhelmed, you didn't eat much today. He insists you sit down and if you weren't so dizzy you might realize something is wrong as he leads you down the street, into an alleyway, where at the end there is a shiny black car with tinted windows.

"I'll take you to get some help," he says, and you don't question it, because your mind is foggy and you can't see straight, and it's just Ren, isn't it? It's just Ren.

It's not until you're bundled into the car with Ren taking the spot next to you in the backseat, his worried expression smoothed over into something cool and triumphant, that the sense of wrongness hits you. Even through the fog of your mind, it hits you.

"Ren? Ren?"

"Shh."

That finger is back on your lips, but this time his finger pivots sideways, a claw lightly tracing one of your facial scars. You can feel it slicing open, like a papercut.

The little blossom of pain is a good distraction for the punch of the needle that he jabs into your thigh a moment later.

You have just enough time to gasp and mutter something, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Nothing comes out. You see him watch you for a moment, eyes half-lidded, before he stares ahead at the driver.

"We'll have time to talk later. When the drugs wear off."

The last thing you see before unconscious is his smile, almost a grin.

#the price of flesh #tpof #ren hana #btd2 #boyfriend to death #afterwitch writes #mmm I wanna flesh this out into a fic #but just brain dump for now

[viennakarma]

hear me out... ending 3: secrets

she just doesn't tell him, publicise their divorce, she's disappeared off the face of the earth basically, she keeps the baby, it's a boy, looks just like him but they just never see each other again. Lewis is upset, can't cope, just keeps partying, drinking during off season, or just gym gym gym not even socialising as much, fashion declines like no longer going for all the cool different clothes and just comes in trousers and merc top.

But how does he find out? when?

Maybe she's just out living a normal life now but an old fan recognises her, she's with her brother and son, maybe they don't recognise the brother and they think she's got a new man and kid, she always wanted a kid and Lewis was never ready wanting to wait. maybe that photo gets released so lewis finds out that way. loads of rumours on twitter. maybe not directly, someone else could bring it up. Jealous then realises. He tries to contact her, doesnt work, blocked on everything. He remembers where her parents house is and visits them, eventually meets yn and their son. Then co-parenting. But like no friendly friendly just civil. She has the son, Lewis has him on free weeks. She does eventually move up cuz when her son is with lewis, she has free time for dates. Just a regular guy tho and it's all great and eventually lewis also tries moving on but like fr this time. so like eventually yn and her new bf move in together, live a happy faithful life and have another kid. while lewis maybe has just won his 8th (or 9th depending on time line) but it's not what he dreamed of, not having yn to celebrate with. But he's got his now long term gf and he proposes.

so basically to summarise, she is alone, single mom, gets exposed, Lewis finds her, civil co-parenting, yn gets a bf happy life, Lewis eventually gets a gf, happy without each other

This is a little blurb on how I imagine a third ending of Say Something would go:

You leave, right after finding out about the pregnancy, maybe somewhere far from England and Monaco. Lewis doesn’t deserve to reap what you saw after ruining your future. He doesn’t deserve you or your kid or to play happy family. You move away, maybe to a farm Australia, since you’ve always wanted a quiet life anyway. Your parents and brother accept moving in with you to help with the risky pregnancy. It’s tough, you can’t do much to risk your health and the baby’s. Soon you find out it’s a boy, you’re happy something good came out of a dumpster fire that was your relationship with him. Him, because you don’t say his name anymore, trying to leave his memory behind.

You baby boy is delivered in a difficult C-section, one your brother and parents never left your side and you felt less alone, not sharing the moment with the father of your kid. The day is happy and sunny, so you name him Helio, like the sun. Like the light in your life. You realize you’ll never fully leave his memory behind, his son being his spitting image. The same hair, the same complexion, the same nose, the same shiny brown eyes and chubby baby cheeks. And you love him so much it hurts. You realize you may have lost him, but Helio was pretty much his copy.

Following your baby’s firsts is the happiest you’ve ever felt. Saying ‘mama’ for the first time, taking his first steps, playing with animals and saying his first words. You settle in a happy routine as a single mom. After the pregnancy, your parents move back to England because they couldn’t just leave their house. Your brother stay with you and your sister move in too, after finishing college.

You try not to know about him. Last you had heard was during the pregnancy, hearing about endless parties, trips and models, that had taken a toll on you, in a way you decided to stop looking. He had a life and you had a completely different one now.

Helio goes to school, eventually. Despite feeling protective, you know you can’t deprive him of a true kindergarten experience, not only for studies, but also for his formative years and to become socially active. The first year, your sister, who has a volunteering job close to his school, is the one who picks Helio up everyday. He makes friends at school and even invite them for a birthday party at the farm. It’s one of the happiest moments for him, eating cake with friends and showing them his pets.

During his second year, though, your sister get a little sick, so she can’t pick Helio from school. And you decide to go, along with your brother. It’s a hot day, so you stop by a park to eat frozen yogurt and let Helio play a little while.

That day, someone recognised you and recorded you.

That’s how Lewis finds you. The video eventually find its way to him. The post has a silly caption ‘for everyone wondering what had happened to y/n, seems like she found a new man and started a family’. Lewis scoffs because he knows the man in the video is your brother and you are thick as thieves ever since you were kids.

You’re just as pretty as ever. Maybe a little more curvy, and hair longer, but just the same, still the most beautiful woman-

But then he pauses. He zooms in the video and see the toddler running up to you. The little boy, who makes your eyes light up as you hug him, sharing what looks like ice cream or something. And from what Lewis can imagine, the boy looks 4 or 5 years old. But there’s no denying, he looks exactly like Lewis as a baby, if he put a baby picture of him beside the boy in the video, it would be the same. It was a matter of time until some of his fans put two and two together.

That’s how Lewis ends up going to your parents’ house in England. He had gone there after the divorce, but the house was for rent and he couldn’t contact your parents of you, after cutting him off completely. Now, when he knocks, you mum is the one to open.

“Is he mine?” Is all he asks, breathing hard.

Your mom let him in, seeing his state of distress. She doesn’t lie nor sugarcoat it. She tried to convince you to let Lewis know about the kid. Helio, he muses, whispering the name of the little boy he never even met.

He goes to Australia with your mum, not even letting you know first, because your mum believed you’d run away once again.

When he makes it to the farm, you’re out in the field with Helio, you two running and playing together barefoot on the grass. He hears Helio’s laugh, yours too, and something inside him breaks. He’s seeing before his eyes the life he threw away for one stupid mistake.

As soon as you notice him, you stop laughing, holding Helio behind you, protective. You call your brother out, asking him to take Helio upstairs and not leave until you say so. Lewis just watches helplessly as your brother takes his nephew inside and Lewis couldn’t even get a closer look at his son.

“Mom, what did you do?” You say, betrayed. You mum explains everything and you invite both of them inside.

Inside, you fight, almost shouting until you remember Helio upstairs, forcing yourself to calm down. Lewis feels betrayed, you tell to his face he doesn’t deserve this life. You pull a stack of documents, asking Lewis to sign. It’s a contract saying he gives up any rights over the kid. Lewis cries.

Your mother mediates.

After what feels like hours of arguing back and forth, you accept Lewis begging to know his kid, begging to be part of his life. How could you deny your kid of a father now you couldn’t hide him behind a layer of ignorance?

You introduce father and son a couple of days later, in the presence of a child therapist, to help mediate. Helio is skittish in the beginning, but he quickly warms up to Lewis. Sometimes, he run backs to you, hugging you tightly, feeling shy. You reassure him, letting him go back to meeting his father.

“Mama, do all daddies take this long?” Helio asks that night when you’re putting him to sleep. You swallow your tears when answering.

“No, my baby. Not all of them. One day you’ll understand better, yes?”

The first time Lewis takes Helio for the day, you cry for hours, feeling like a mother bird in an empty nest. He had invited his family to a nearby city, only 40 minutes away so he could introduce Helio to them. It’s planned for them to come back by dinner time, to not disturb Helio’s routine. But they come back earlier and your baby looked like he’d been crying. Worried, you carry him inside while Lewis explains that the first few hours Helio was enjoying himself and meeting everyone, but after a while, he started crying because he ‘wanted Mama’. Selfishly, that makes your heart grow easier, because you know Helio would never forget you, and in the end of the day, he’d would always want Mama’s arms.

The first months are like torture, until you get used to Helio coming back at the end of the day. Your Helio, your baby, becomes Helio Hamilton when Lewis registers him. Lewis tries to win you over many times, with gifts, inviting you to dates, until you have a stern talk with him, telling him it wasn’t happening. That every time you were polite and respectful to him, Helio’s well being is the only thing in your mind.

Eventually, the media finds out about Helio. Lewis blatantly lies, saying he had been keeping his son’s existence a secret for his safety and privacy. People mostly respected his wishes.

You see Lewis’ family for the first time again at Helio’s fifth birthday. You thought they’d hate you for hiding their grandkid/nephew, but they treat you with the same kindness as always, and you feel just a tiny bit of guilt for hiding Helio for so long.

You realised that you had much more free time now that Helio was with Lewis half of the time. So you started going to the gym, going shopping, not only for Helio but for yourself, you went to museums, parks and eventually, dates.

One day you meet Leon, a recluse just like you. He’s a writer, living in a cottage in a close city. You hit it off, but you and him get to know each other for a whole year before you introduce him to your family, and Lewis. Your ex-husband doesn’t take it well, admitting that deep down he thought you’d go back and be a family. You tell him, he ruined that himself.

You find some resemblance of balance. With Lewis’ coming to pick Helio whenever he had free time, you weren’t friends just a cold politeness.

Lewis, whenever he had to pick Helio, he found you and Leon sitting by the porch, or horseback riding, or helping Helio with homework and school projects, he would always envy your life, the happy family he could have, but he had only himself to blame. When he finds out by Helio you’re having another baby, he swears a part of him dies forever, buried alongside your love for him, and the future he threw away. Eventually, Lewis married again, a woman who loves him, loves Helio and she even gets along with you well, and that’s all he can ask for, knowing deep down he would never love someone else the way he loved you.

PHEW! I may have gotten carried away. Thank you for your ideia, Anon! I hope this was alright!

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #fic talk #f1 fic #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #formula 1 #ask rae

[luveline]

Hi Jade!! 💛💛 Omg obsessed with soulmate prince Steve au 🥰. Every au you write is perfection Can I request a scenario in which prince Steve actually witnesses someone say something to her about how she’s not good enough for the prince and how he’d react to that/ reassure her?

prince!steve au ♡ fem, 1.2k

Your palatial bedroom is a gem to the eye. You've a huge window from which gauzy orange light seeps, the golden hour of your twentieth day coming to an end. Soon, night will be upon you, and with the night comes Prince Steven. Or, as he prefers, Steve.  

He spends the days battling his overbearing mother and her team of 'professional shitheads' as the wedding fast approaches, advocating for you where you can't. You may be his soul mate, but your lack of royal blood means you've no choice in any of their plans. You hadn't been allowed to choose your dress, your vows, or even your jewellery. 

Well, originally. "It's your wedding," Steve had said, giving your hand a reassuring hold, "not just mine, and definitely not theirs. You'll be allowed to wear, and say, and do whatever you want. I'm lucky you agreed to marry me at all." 

You don't regret agreeing to marry him, but it wasn't what you pictured. He didn't propose, and you aren't in love. Your soul marks assure you that one day you will be. The volume of their light and how restless they become around the other evidences a mutual attraction if nothing else, and the rosy hue they take when you touch spares nothing. 

A mutual crush doesn't normally mean you'd marry someone, though. But it isn't exactly unheard of in your culture either. Soul mates are soul mates —it's on the tin. 

Why wait to get married when you know you'll fall in love for life? 

Maybe because that love is extremely daunting, a little voice says at the back of your head. Because Steve is still a stranger. 

An acquaintance might be more accurate. If he continues to be so dramatically nice you might skip friendship altogether, your stomach a heat at the memory of his hand on your chin and the subtle warmth of his gaze as he laid your doubts to rest. You worried to him that you couldn't be a Princess, and while he hadn't shared the sentiment, others do. 

You leave the haven of your room in hopes of a glass of juice and a tonic for your headache (all you've done for days is grind your teeth), and become turned around looking for the kitchens 

"She is so boringly normal. I thought the Prince would have a special soul mate, is that stupid? I thought she'd be gorgeous, or smart, or talented at something, like piano." The servant hits her racket against the rug with a laugh. "She's just one of us. Lucky bitch." 

Which isn't the worst of it. Not truly offensive. You're nothing special, and if you didn't know it already, finding your soulmate cemented it. 

This bit hurts, though. "She's surprisingly ugly, I thought," says the other servant. "Imagine when they project their engagement photos in the central city. That is not a face you want to see in sixteen k." 

Your head bumps into the alcove wall with surprise as a throat clears. The servants look up in tandem, to your horror, seeing you standing in the shade like a creeper, but they see straight past you. You follow their gaze. 

"That's not fair or appropriate, is it?" Steve asks, in his strange princely tone. "The future princess is just as beautiful as you ladies, but she has a much nicer attitude, yeah?" 

Steve puts his hand on your shoulder and walks you away. You feel like you're in trouble, being marched by the class warden to the principal's office.

He stops you in the cool stone walkway that leads from the garden. You can smell the kitchen you'd been looking for, the buttery smell of capers and brewing edelweiss tea on the breeze. The night dawns, sconces with teal and lime light painting his skin baby blue. 

"Sorry I didn't sanction them. I think that the anxiety that I'm gonna tell on them does more than the actual–" Steve stops short. "Hey, are you crying?" 

You're not crying, but you may be a little sniffly. You turn your head away from him and he pulls it right back, his lips parted in shock. 

"You don't believe them," he says incredulously.

The stress in your life these last few weeks has been akin to a tightrope walker, and the insults (the embarrassment, knowing he heard) are a strong wobble. 

"Sorry," you say, your lips barely parted. You try to look away from him but his hand is steadfast on your cheek. 

It's so odd to be treated with tenderness by someone you don't really know. His soul mark burns a muted pinky-red at the pulse of his wrist. It's genuine affection, even if you feel like you don't deserve it. 

"I'm sorry," he says. "Maybe I should go back and have them do domestic duties for the week."

"No, I'm being stupid. They don't have to think I'm pretty–" 

"Well, they should, but that's not really what happened… Why are you down here? I was looking for you." 

"You were?" you ask. 

"I usually am. I tried to get out of fencing but they wouldn't let me leave," he explains, his hand moving up your face in little grabs, almost as though he's checking you over for injury. Eyes held, Steve smiles at you encouragingly. "Why were you down here?" 

"To get something to drink," you say. 

"And you didn't want to ask one of the ten people waiting desperately for you to need something?" he asks with a laugh, dropping his hand from your face. The phantom of it remains, heat in the shape of his fingers pressed into your cheek.

"It feels weird." 

"You can call for me instead and I could get you a drink. Just until you know where the kitchen is. Or I can make you a map." 

"A map," you say, biting back a smile. 

"Is that funny?" 

"No…" 

Steve curls a hand behind your shoulder. "We're not gonna get along," he says, his tone suggesting wildly otherwise. "I can tell. Let's get you that drink, okay?" 

"Okay. Sorry for, um, getting all emotional on you." 

"'In good times and bad,'" he says. Your heart doesn't leap, it springs from your chest. He's a prince, and he's beautiful, and now he's throwing wedding vows at you like it's nothing? 

You smile at your shoes all the way to the kitchens, where Steve ushers you in front of him to go first, and says in your ear, "For the record, I'm personally super excited to see you on the holo screens, but I don't think it's gonna compare to the real thing." He directs you by the waist gently, a twin of the way he'd held you in your engagement photos. Deft hand nestled against the fat of your hip, blue silk of your ceremonial kissing your thighs. You'd felt really pretty, if only because he touched you without hesitation. "You are the farthest thing from ugly I've ever seen." 

#prince!steve au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

[exhaslo]

Hi! hello! Can I request a side story #2 for puzzle pieces? Im sorry but the series is just so good!! can I request where wifey is finally pregnant and miguel is going FERAL, like he is down bad. Pls?

also if you like, add where the baby comes, ok bye!

Don't be sorry! I love writing extra Puzzle Pieces content!!

Warning: Fluff, mentions of sex, language

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

Finally.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you held the pregnancy test in your hands. Your nervous smile growing wider by the second as you thought of ways to tell your loving husband, Miguel. Your heart rate pounding faster as you could just imagine your future with a little Miguel running around.

Finally.

All those nights of Miguel bullying your body paid off. The thought made your face grow flustered. Stepping out of the bathroom, you gripped onto the pregnancy test, wondering how you were going to tell Miguel.

Should you be cheesy and give him a bunch of baby food or put a bun in the oven? Maybe you should just tell him? Pouting at the thought, you wanted to be just a little clever towards Miguel.

"Oh! Oh! I know!!"

--------

It took a few days for you order to arrive. Unable to stop smiling, you placed the box in the living room and waited for Miguel to return home. He had you take the day off since you weren't feeling too well. You blamed the morning sickness on some small food poisoning.

A bad idea since Miguel was about to have his men raid the restaurant the two of you went too. You had to beg him not too, especially since it was a white lie.

Sighing at the thought, you quickly pushed it away as you heard the door open. Hurrying over, you smiled towards an exhausted Miguel.

"Welcome home~" You cooed, spreading your arms out for a hug.

"Aye, que vista (what a sight)," Miguel hummed, burying himself into your embrace, "Are you feelings better, my little bunny?" He asked, inhaling your scent.

"Hehe, I am. Are you hungry? I made dinner...and I have a surprise for you~"

"Oh? Can I have the surprise now?" Miguel chuckled, finding you adorable.

You gave Miguel a pout, but after a bunch of little kisses and hand roaming, you caved. Miguel kept his hands on your waist, kissing the back of your neck as you brought him to the couch. Whines and whimpers escaped your lips as you tried to get serious.

"M-Miggy, the puzzle," You complained.

"Sorry, sorry, mi amor (my love). Can't wait to see what you have in store for me,"

You giggled as you sat on Miguel's lap, working on the puzzle with him. You felt his breathe against your neck as he hummed every now and then. You shuddered softly when Miguel groaned softly as the word, 'baby' was formed.

"(Y/N), are you-"

"Awe, finish the puzzle,"

Miguel just chuckled as he pinned you to the couch. His eyes sparkling in awe as he captured your lips in a passionate kiss. His words and feelings expressed with each moment of his body and hands.

"Thank you."

---------

Miguel was going crazy. It had been a few months since you announced your pregnancy to him. Miguel was spoiling the shit out of you. Making sure you got everything you wanted, taking care of your every whim.

If you were craving something, Miguel would get it. If your feet hurt, Miguel would massage them. Miguel was going to do everything for you.

Currently, you were at home with a big belly, being taken care of by Jessica. As much as Miguel wanted to be home with you, he still had a job to do and a mafia to run.

That, and Miguel was having a hard time resisting you. You looked so perfect with your big belly. His child inside you, growing. The thought made Miguel want you more and more. He wished for you to have their child already to Miguel could put another one in you.

"Fuck, I need to focus," Miguel grumbled.

Miguel needed to calm these thoughts. He felt like a beast wanting to devour you. How could he resist though? You always looked at him with needy and lustful eyes, whining and begging for any little thing. It was so cute.

"Soon. Soon."

----------

When it was close to your due date, Miguel took off of work and hovered over you. He had his men ready at any moment to make sure there was a clear path to the hospital for your baby. Miguel wanted to make sure everything went smoothly.

"Miggy," You whimpered, holding his hand, "You're more worried than me, hehe."

"I just want to make sure everything is smooth." Miguel pecked your forehead, stroking your hand, "I can't wait to see our child."

"Mhm~ Same~" You cooed then groaned, gasping softly, "M-Miguel...ah....m-my...hn, my water-"

"On it!"

Miguel easily picked you up, calling out to Lyla who was on speed dial. Carefully, but quickly, Miguel carried you to his car, making sure you made it to the hospital.

You were crying and breathing heavily as Miguel held your hand. His focus and attention all on you as he whispered sweet nothingness in his ear. You cried, gripping his hand tightly,

"M-Miguel! It hurts!"

"Shh, I know, baby. I know. You're doing such a good job." Miguel whispered, kissing your hand.

You cried until you reached the hospital. Miguel hurried beside you as the nurses took over. He didn't leave your side for even a second. His hand holding yours as you pushed, cried and screamed.

"AH!!!"

After one last scream and push, you breathed heavily as cries filled the room. Miguel stroked your hair and kissed your head, whispering you a good job. The nurses went to clean the baby before returning the child to the two of you.

"M-Miguel," You panted softly, "Look, our baby~ Hehe,"

"Good job," Miguel hummed, kissing you, "Such a good girl,"

Stroking your hair, you just smiled as you held your baby. The doctors congratulated the two on you on a healthy baby boy before leaving. The nurses stayed to clean you up, before transferring you to another room and the baby to the baby room.

To your request, Miguel got on the bed and cuddled you as you rested. Exhausted took over your system as you fell asleep in his arms. Miguel hummed happily, kissing your head.

---------

By the time you woke up, you were still exhausted, but also relieved. A smile formed against your lips as you looked up at your husband. Miguel was watching the news, his hands stroking your hair every now and then.

"How's our baby?"

"Healthy," Miguel responded and pecked your forehead, "How are you?"

"Tired. When can we go home?"

"Soon, baby. I know you don't like hospitals." Miguel hummed and chuckled lowly, "That much of a hurry to go home and make another baby?"

"M-Miguel!" You squeaked, covering your face in his chest, "H-How long have you....b-been ready for another one?"

"Months." Miguel said with a soft groan, nibbling against your ear, "You've been so fucking tempting."

"Miggy!" You whined softly.

Miguel just chuckled, pulling you close as he whispered dirty thoughts into your ear.

He was ready for another child.

And he wasn't going to wait much longer. Not after holding back for the last few months.

"Ah, amor, I'm going to treat you so good after doing such a good job."

"Miguuuuuuel!"

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

I hope you enjoyed! Puzzle Pieces is always fun to write! Also, you all might like my new series:

Over-Time

@migueloharacumslut @18lkpeters @deputy-videogamer @leahnicole1219 @synamonthy @thedevax @jolynesposts @thraetor @freehentai @2099hitmylineyline @vvampir3s @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @secretadmirerisnowonline @jadeloverxd @bunnibitez @oharasfilipinawife @randomgoosegame @lilbanas @daisy-artfield @axi-moore @mimiemie @darkfairy102190 @jazzyj1011 @mcmiracles @innercreationflower @spoderssimp @thel0velykey190 @moonvoidpng @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @scaleniusrm @love4saturn @nyxgoddessofchaos13 @slutty-chronicles @ghstypaint @migueloharastruelove @brainmatterdump @a060403 @trendyharold @yannauauau @kimivixen @angel-xx-1 @nxrdamp @miguelzslvtz @lynxslokley @wafflefries786 @pochapo @what-the-jams @flaps200 @ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii @nakimushiohime @tojishugetiddies @aya-world @supercowgirl04 @mysteris-things @daisy-artfield @mcmiracles @alexa4040 @llama--drama @kpopscoups17130000 @havkjhdecs @ruexvn @tojishugetiddi @openup-yourmind @black-swan-blog27 @xstarsdiary @kiddisquacking @gachagator @yujyujj @emmyrxx @blackteamint @sockears @black-swan-blog27 @soraya-daydreams @byjessicalotufo @nanoinn @bunnibitez @aockskcw @l3laze @dimitri-needs-therapy

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #across the spiderverse #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x you #miguel o'hara #spiderman miguel #miguel ohara #miguel x y/n #miguel x reader

[yanderestarangel]

Just heat me out, step!big brother Kuai Liang x ftm reader. Where Kuai Liang buys a kimono that is too small on the curves of his step!brother and they end up fucking 🥴 `'yes inspired by your J.ai bot.

- 🍓

Urghh I just love this concept lol. This was my favorite bot.

TW: ftm reader, fingering, eat out, shibari, afab anatomy, praise, stepincest, dark smut, use of powers, squirt.

The fabric of the kimono accentuated your curves beautifully, your thighs were creamy and soft while your breasts spilled out of the garment's horizontal neckline ─ you were practically naked and it was Kuai Liang's fault

But after using his voice so many times to show you the results, you decided to go out and show him how it had looked on you, even though you were practically naked in the eyes of anyone there. As you enter the room, Kuai Liang can't help but swallow hard, his gaze lingering on the sight of your skin and curves peeking out from the kimono. His breathing becomes slightly ragged, his eyes locking onto your pussy teasingly exposed beneath the fabric, the thin material barely hiding the enticing view.

"Wrong number indeed," he murmurs, trying to regain his composure. He steps closer to you, reaching out to adjust the collar of the garment, his fingers brushing against your neck briefly before he straightens it out. "Let's find a better fit," he suggests, biting his lip to hide his arousal. He guides you over to his closet, searching for another gi that might suit you better.

"Maybe something more, covered?..." His brows furrow as he rifles through the selection, his mind racing with thoughts of how seductive you look in the current outfit. Despite the situation, he couldn't help but imagine running his fingers along your exposed skin, tasting your tender flesh.

"But you still look lovely, little prince."

You lightly joked that you looked like Jessica Rabbit due to the red color of your short kimono ─ Kuai Liang on the other hand can't help but laugh softly, his laughter rumbling through his chest. He stands behind you, resting his head on your delicate shoulder, his grip gentle yet firm on your breasts. The sensation of his breath against your skin tickles slightly, his eyes never leaving the reflection of the two of you. "Jessica Rabbit reincarnated as a prince... quite the transformation," he chuckles, enjoying the feeling of your curves in his hands. His grip tightens ever so slightly, giving a gentle squeeze before releasing you.

"However..." His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close, his erection pressing against your ass as he speaks. "...my prince looks rather... enticing." He whispers the last word into your ear, his breath warming your earlobe as he leans in closer, his intention clear despite his calm tone. You saw his look at you in the mirror in front of both of you, as he with his warm, warm hands traced your body and lifted the thin fabric of your robes, exposing your naked body to him ─ A smile played on your step brother's lips, as you felt him get hotter, practically the comfortable heat of his muscles engulfing you. The pyromancer took some spare strings from his closet, some new ones that were used for his future Lin Kuei training, but now he had other plans for such an object.

"For someone with an angel face like yours, my little brother know how to manipulate situations. An innocent little face that hides a mischievous little devil." he muses, his voice low and husky as he ties the ropes in various knots, preparing them for whatever comes next.

"Don't worry, little angel, I won't hurt you." With that promise, he begins tying the rope around your wrists, ensuring they're snug but comfortable. If you're nervous, he'll reassure you all the while, his focus solely on ensuring your comfort and pleasure. He finishes passing the brown lines all over your body, placing emphasis on leaving your thighs wide open and exposing your pussy for his gaze. As he brings you to the bed, he doesn't waste any time, diving straight into pleasuring you. His tongue flicks out, immediately finding your clit, sending electric shocks through your body as he lavishes attention on it. He watches your reaction, pleased to see you tremble and drip for him. This surprises him, but it only fuels his desire further.

"You're so wet... so responsive..." he mumbles against your folds, his erection throbbing painfully in his pants. He kisses your clit again, then sucks it gently into his mouth before releasing it. "Such a naughty little boy you are, opening that pretty pussy and letting your step brother use you." He chuckles, teasing your entrance with his tongue, exploring every inch of your folds. The fire ninja relishes the sight of your trembles and whimpers, your breasts swaying gracefully despite being restrained. He smirks, captivated by your reactions to his touch.

He removes his fingers from your dripping pussy, causing you to whimper in protest. But as he pulls you onto his lap and spreads your legs, your protests turn into moans of pleasure as he begins to lavish attention on your sensitive clit.

"Good boys deserve to be rewarded." he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. His fingers continue to tease and stroke your clit, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of kisses and hickeys along your neck. He revels in your squirming beneath his touch, the way your body reacts to his every move. Your step older brother's fingers continue their sweet torture ─ his other hand caressing and squeezing your breasts, his touch demanding and gentle all at once.

You feel a heat in your core, made even worse by the shibari ropes on your body ─ He knew what was coming next simply by the way you pathetically begged him to make you cum, a request to which the tattooed man gladly complied. "you're going to give me a fucking squirt aren't you little brother?" He mocked as he used his powers and slightly heated the tip of his fingers, putting perfect pressure on your sensitive spot. You felt your vision cloud as you screamed his name and threw your head back finding his chest, he saw the transparent liquid come out of your pussy and stain the floor making him giving you kisses along your sweaty neck while he still held onto the ropes that bound you.

"good boy... you were my good boy."

#yanderestarangel #tw smut #afab reader #mortal kombat #mortal kombat fandom #mortal kombat fanfiction #mortal kombat x reader #mk1 #mortal kombat smut #ftm reader #kuai liang smut #kuai liang headcanons #kuai liang imagine #kuai liang x reader #kuai liang x male reader #kuai liang x you #kuai liang x ftm reader #ftm!reader #ftm smut #cw smut #kuai liang #kuai liang mk1 #scorpion x you #scorpion smut #scorpion x reader #scorpion kuai liang #mortal kombat x male reader #mortal kombat x ftm reader #male!reader #💌 anon