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leclsrc · 1 year

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sweet pea ✴︎ cl16

genre: friends to lovers, dad charles/pregnancy au, fluff!, humor, super slight angst

word count: 4.6k

“I thought the puking was food poisoning,” he says. “Jesus, you know how many takeout places I’ve avoided lately?” “Well, it’s not Panda Express. It’s your alien sperm.”

Or: you finally reap what you sow after fooling around with your best friend. The reaping in question is a kid.

notes... some nsfw allusions, nothing too bad. if pregnancy isnt ur thing this is all about it so.

auds here... i hated this for a long time so i thought id never post it hahahah but i will now bec i just redid some scenes and its okay in my eyes... also this is a bit overdue. i hope u like it everyone! :) title from this

It’s an hour before the race and you’re absent from your usual spot greeting friends and guests along the paddock. Instead, you’re leaned against the wall of the tiny motorhome bathroom, silently digging your toes into your sandals. Charles knocks twice before trying to open the door and succeeding. He beams when he sees you, goes, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

He offers a hand, but you let your eyes shut, refusing to take it. You fail to even make eye contact, holding up the plastic stick that’d been in your clammy grip for about twenty minutes. It’s an omen, a portent, a cursed thing, casting your best friend into silence.

It’s cold and sterile in the bathroom—a stark contrast to where other families might find out they’re pregnant for the first time. You imagine a lemon yellow room bathed in noon sunlight and a happy balding doctor going “It’s positive, mama!” You picture a white family SUV in the parking lot, a happy blonde couple jumping into each other’s arms with unadulterated happiness.

Instead, you get: “Do you have COVI—oh.”

“Yeah.” You say, pursing your lips. You swallow. “Oh.”

“I thought the puking was food poisoning,” he says. “Jesus, you know how many takeout places I’ve avoided lately?”

“Well, it’s not Panda Express. It’s your alien sperm,” you counter, lifting yourself from the wall and bumping past Charles on your way out and into his room. He follows, brows knitted together, muttering something French under his breath.

“By that logic, that’d mean you’re an alien now, too. See, your kinks have finally met their match.”

You turn, effectively stopping him in his tracks. He almost collides with you, his eyes trained determinedly on the positive pregnancy test in his hand. You cross your arms and narrow your eyes, annoyed. “Seriously. Jokes? Right now?”

“I mean—”

“Whatever,” you say, waving him off. “Just go and drive. We can talk about this later.”

“I’ll dedicate the race to the little alien.” He giggles, mimicking a champagne spray, waving the invisible bottle back and forth toward your still-not-showing stomach. His accent switches to a measly English one when he goes, “Oh my Gawd! And there goes the alien Leclerc! Wins in first! From pole!”

“Get out. Or so help me God this baby is growing up without you.”

He ends up winning. (“Should I dedicate every race to the ali—” “Stop calling it that.”)

—

This is nothing but a final culmination of your very layered relationship with Charles. For years, you two had comfortably gone by the “best friends” label, with a hidden “with benefits” clause. You’d grown up together, separated only when you went to university in New York. Your re-arrival in Monaco, coupled with the both of you having grown older and more independent, marked the start of the sex.

It works like clockwork. To relieve stress, to celebrate, to cure boredom. At some point, both of you just inwardly admitted there was a certain weakness to it. A glass of wine, a stick of tobacco, and you’d give in to the temptation easily. Then, in the morning—sometimes in Monaco, other times in foreign countries where your body feels like it’s still three a.m.—you come to a mutual agreement to never do it again.

But you always do, laughing in between kisses, mumbling whispered nothings between the sheets (or in the bathtub, or against the wall, or—that one time—on the balcony.) And now there’s proof of it. Well, barely any yet, you realize, staring at yourself in the mirror of Charles’ hotel room. You turn and flop yourself onto the bed, but face-up. You inch yourself toward the headboard and lean against it in a half-seated position.

“I can’t believe I’m…” You sigh. Finally, the jokes fizzle. This is the real talk.

Charles burrows himself next to you, shirtless and in a stupid pair of boxers with red hearts all over them. You’d gotten them as a Valentine’s Day gag two years ago, but now you’re thinking of the future, of telling this kid their dad has a pair of heart-decorated boxers. Momentarily, and temptingly so, you weigh the options of telling Charles you were joking and running away before sunup.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He asks. He’d learned the phrase from some obscure American rom-com, if you recall correctly. He uses it constantly, and for many years, improperly.

“I��ll give you them for free,” you say, breathless with worry. “We’re having a kid.”

A hand places itself on your knee. You almost jerk away, but you relax. “What do you want to do?”

“With?” You ask, emptily. There’s so much to do. “The baby?”

“Well, I mean, yeah, but also us.”

“We’re not dating,” you say, a bit sharper than intended.

“We could.” He pauses. “For its sake.” He pokes your abdomen.

“I don’t—” You inhale, trying to reorganize all your thoughts. “I don’t want people thinking we’re suddenly dating and engaged and happy just because I’m about to pop a Charles Jr. out. I mean, what are you going to do with your racing? With a kid on the way, how’s travel going to work? My job? My masters?”

“I think… I think you and I are lucky enough,” he says slowly, “to be able to weigh all these options without losing too much time or resources. I will support you no matter what, and you know that. And really, who cares if people think we ‘date’ because of the baby? You and I have been ‘dating’ since we were eleven.”

You don’t realize you’re crying until your laugh is mixed with a sob. You don’t know if you’re sad, pissed, overwhelmed, loved—or all four. “Okay? So… let’s both think about it. More you than me. And tomorrow, we can weigh this all over again. Let’s sleep on it. Remember? La nuit—”

“—porte conseil,” you finish tearily. “Okay.”

—

It’s two weeks later. Charles gets stuck in the paddock doing something or other for Sunday, so you’re left to your own devices in the parking lot. Five minutes of waiting turns to fifteen, then a half hour. That’s the catalyst for your mid-evening freakout—suddenly you’re thinking about all the times you and this weird thing inside you might be alone, left for work, by an athlete dad.

“Are you okay?” A voice asks when you’re heaving out another dry, panic-induced sigh. You turn, finding it familiar, and see Seb behind you. He may have been Charles’ teammate, but he’s a friend to you, too, and you find he’s always the most grounded in heated discussions.

“Seb,” you croak, caught off guard. “I’m fine.” Your voice breaks on the ine, and suddenly fat tears roll quietly down your face.

You tell him eventually, when he asks you again if you’re okay, making him the second person to know; still, the telling doesn’t get easier. You didn’t even tell Charles, you think. You merely shoved a Clearblue stick in his face and waited for the goofy reaction that would undoubtedly meet your ears.

“A baby,” he says softly. Happily. “Congratulations. This is a big step… but you don’t sound excited.”

“I mean,” you say in between waves of tears, “I am? I am. But—it happened so fast—we’re not even officially together—and Charles is—”

“Do I need to talk some sense into Charles?” Seb asks suddenly, concerned.

“No. He’s—he’s being great. Really supportive.” You wipe the tears and fresh ones come. “He’s happy. You know him. I think I’m just overwhelmed. I mean I’m the one who’s toting this baby around.”

“Take it one step at a time,” he muses. “See a doctor, work out non-race schedules with Mattia, get everything in order. If I know you, this baby will be in the best hands. And that’s not even counting Charles.” He pulls you in for a hug that lasts ages, one that says thank you and I love you better than words. You inhale, find the tears have stopped. You realize what comes after this—it’s telling everyone else. Lily, your best friend. Carlos. Charles’ family. Your family. The fans, oh God you’d forgotten about the fans. The social media announcements.

Charles strolls into the parking lot—runs, more like, with apologies spouting out of him, just two minutes after Seb leaves. He presses a delicate, apologetic kiss to your forehead, a hand on your stomach. “Hey,” he says. Then, to your abdomen, covered by a sweatshirt, “Hey there, alien.” You wonder what this will be like in two months. In seven. In nine.

—

You tell your families over lunch on a lucky off day. There is little surprise—just tears from both your moms and Arthur teasingly asking you to recount the details of conception. You’re in a sundress serving crostini when Pascale pulls you aside to the back of the yard.

She presses a kiss to your cheek, one of conviction and faith. “I always knew,” she says. “You’re going to be a wonderful mom.”

—

The drivers all find out one way or another, news trickling through the grapevine like honey. You share it to Lily first, and of course she tells Alex. You tell Lewis, too, over spring rolls that he claims will power up the baby when it’s born. Charles tells Pierre, who tells Yuki, and Carlos, who tells Lando. You tell Mick, who hugs you and says, “Oh my god! I already knew, Seb told me. I kept wanting to say congratulations.”

It’s a matter of two weeks before everybody knows. You know because you’ve barely taken a step into the dimly lit Ferrari motorhome when you halt and bolt back outside, harboring yourself a few metres away at a safe distance. Charles, who had been walking beside you, arm looped around your waist, turns, puzzled.

“What’s going on?” He asks.

“No. Nuh-uh. It smells in there.”

He sniffs the darkness, fumbles for the light switch. “No it doesn’t.”

“It smells like”—you grit your teeth, trying to identify the stench—“cheese. And champagne.”

“Why would it smell like che—”

He bangs the light open and illuminates a surprise party. The entire grid starts cheering, having unheard the entire conversation. There’s a huge banner that says CONGRATULATIONS PARENTS, and on a makeshift table in the centre, an assortment of cake slices, cheese, and flutes of champagne. Charles laughs with delight at the surprise, and then turns to find you squatting on the ground, trying to quell your stomach.

“Give me five,” you say, waving him off.

He returns after ten to find you still trying to calm the waves of nausea. You hear his footsteps and heave yourself up, standing to face him. “I asked Esteban and Max to evacuate the place of cheese and champagne. It’s just coffee and cake now. I even got three fans going.”

“Desolée,” you say, miserable. He wraps two big arms around you, nestling his chin atop your head. “I feel like a high-maintenance monster.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re not the monster. The alien is.”

“I told you to stop calling it that,” you say, shutting your eyes and leaning into his touch. “Before it catches on.”

“Okay. E.T.? Spock? Open to suggestions.” Hand in yours, he walks you gently to the party, arising loud cheers again. In between sips of hot water, he says, “How about Chewy?”

—

The sense of smell proves to be useful in endeavours elsewhere.

“You never clean your car,” you say, lying horizontal on the leather seat and picking bits of dirt off. “I can smell month old Cheetos.”

Charles watches you obsessively nitpick at the detailing. “Last time you looked like this, I gave you a baby.”

“One more word,” you warn sharply.

“But seriously, be careful. The alien might get stressed.”

You brace yourself for the stupid words that will indubitably follow.

“Don’t worry. If it falls out I’ll plop it in a race car and it’ll be the next Hamilton. Imagine how light it’ll be.”

There it is.

—

Your first trip to the doctor’s is interesting. Charles insists on wearing a wig because he’s so easily recognized in Monaco, so now you look like you’re conceiving a baby with Weird Al Yankovic.

The doctor wheels in a cart with a monitor and all the necessary equipment, and even if it suddenly feels all too real, Charles squeezes your hand and you’re calm again. “I’m back,” she says, sliding into a wheely chair beside you and gelling your stomach.

“Hi, Back,” Charles responds in a crude, twangy Texan accent. The dad humor starts early, you suppose.

You grit your teeth to try and excuse his embarrassing behavior, but suddenly the monitor clicks open and there it is. It looks like the ones in movies, print-outs from friends, but at the same time it doesn’t. It looks different. Special. Yours. You zero in on it, breathless. That’s yours. The doctor says a couple minor things—nothing worrisome—and when you turn to relay it to Charles in case he’d zoned out, you find his face splotchy.

“Are you crying?”

“That’s ours,” he says, dipping down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“It’s mine and Charles’, not mine and Bob Ross’,” you say, but you pull him closer anyway.

You order two printouts. The week next, you discover that Charles snuck back in to order an extra eight and has mailed them out to friends and drivers. You find out because Kylian Mbappe messages you “Due in April? Make me godfather!” on Instagram.

—

Gradually, you fall into a pattern of being queasy constantly. You get nitpicky with meals, and not irrationally—Charles had fed you a spicy hotdog and you’d gone half a bite before hurling it, and your breakfast, into the nearest toilet. You find solace in your cravings—all of which happen to be the same everyday.

Chinese takeout from just about any restaurant ends up being your best friend. You somehow can’t stomach anything but that specific cuisine, much to your own surprise. You find new ways to combine them with each other. Rice paper wrappers with chow mein. Hotpot with fried rice. If you’re not eating Chinese, you reduce your appetite to crackers or hot tea to avoid becoming too nauseated.

It’s poetic almost, the way he sets out the food carefully, in the order you like them. He always presses a kiss to your forehead after.

Around this time, you develop a crazy sex drive, waking Charles up at numerous points of the night, begging into his neck for something, anything. You last an hour before you’re asking again. This proves especially difficult before races, where Charles gives in a bit too easily and Carlos has to knock on the door, going “You have to finish somewhere else too, Charles!”

—

You insist Charles hold off on telling the fans, for a few months. It goes okay until your outfits on the paddock evolve into the variety of “Charles’ hoodies” to hide the increasingly evident bloat of pregnancy, and nosy fans start speculating all over Twitter. That’s when he sits you down and gently tells you he thinks it’s time you both announce it.

You’re sitting beside him in his hotel room, after two calls with his bosses, trying to formulate the proper announcement. You download PicsArt to make it pretty and clean and formatted—because the poor guy was about to post a Notes app screenshot—and then it’s on the Internet.

“She’s truly MOTHER,” one fan comments. Despite yourself, you press the heart icon beside it. It’s your bit of comfort when you catch sight of the nastier comments under the post.

—

You’re ironically gifted an ancient 80s aerobic exercise DVD for mums by Lily and Alex. You’re sure it’s older than you. Charles, though, in his valiant effort to connect with you and Chewy, does the routine everyday. You wake up to the electronic synthpop and Charles doing booty squats in the living room.

The permed instructor smiles through the scratchy 80s quality and goes, “You are rocking it, momma!”

“You hear that?!” Charles pants. “I am rocking it!”

—

Your first parenting fight ends up being one over the baby’s name. Yeah. Of all things. You don’t know why you’re so worked up about it, considering you don’t even know the gender of the baby yet. You arrive in Monaco to mark the first of five off days and Charles makes some random, offhand joke about naming the baby Daryl, and you suddenly start rambling on and on about how it’s too ugly, even if you’d never thought about names before now.

“It’s not going to be Daryl. It won’t be Daryl,” Charles says, hands on your shoulders. You heave another sob. “Please stop crying. You never cry. I’m a bit freaked out.”

“It’s—just—that,” you hiccup, “I—don’t—want to name a—our—baby—Daryl.”

“Yeah, yep,” he says, soothingly. “I got you. It’s not going to be Daryl. Never. We don’t need to decide anything. You gonna calm down for me?”

“I can’t—stop—crying,” you snivel desperately, burying your face in your hands.

He presses a firm kiss to the corner of your quivering lips, and you tug him in for a real one. You calm down when you pull away, exhaling. You gaze at him with red-rimmed eyes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Blame the alien,” you sniff.

He kisses your stomach, which shows signs of pregnancy more and more as the days pass. “Hear that?” He whispers into the skin. “She’s blaming you, Chewy.”

—

Your next trip to the doctor’s is with your appointed private physician, Dr. Davies. Two minutes before the doctor walks in, you make a serious and compelling order for Charles to remove the Weird Al wig, which he does—but stores in your bag, “just in case.” It’s also his opporunity to play teacher’s pet and showcase how involved he is in your pregnancy, which, judging by the amount of weird cultish pregnancy books he’s burned through, is very much so.

“It’s gonna be a boy,” you declare while you’re being gelled up. You’re past the point of denial and bloat, now showing way too obviously. “Mom’s intuition.”

“Well, all the books say it’s a girl,” he says proudly.

“Yeah, they also say drinking lemon juice while trying to conceive gives you a girl. I’m sure scientific accuracy was their greatest objective.”

“Girl.”

“Boy,” you say dismissively.

“Girl.”

“Boy.”

“Girl.” It’s not Charles this time, it’s the physician, with a small smile on his face.

You squeeze Charles’ hand so hard you’re half sure it’s chipped off and fallen to the tiled floor. You’re having a girl. Normally Charles would turn and make some petty statement about he’d been right, but—you’re having a girl. A pretty baby girl. You almost can’t believe it. He totally can’t, pressing kisses to your hair and face.

You let him buy pink paint later that day.

—

You predict it, but it comes—fights and squabbles over nothing at all.

First it’s about work, then housing, then his job, then the danger of his job. It’s petty, and usually you storm off in an emotional cloud of irrationality, brought down after a talk, a play-by-play, compromise, reassurance. It’s hard when you’re carrying around a human being, you want to say. Try being in my shoes.

“Can we talk?” Charles says, in the thick of another fight. You’re on the balcony of your flat, mulling over nothing at all. Your stomach is heavy, you’re always exhausted, you never feel pretty anymore even if Charles is always unfailing at telling you you are.

“Okay,” you murmur, turning. You’ve already developed a habit of placing your hands on your bump always.

He inhales. “I’m scared.”

This is a first. And you realize—in these six months of being pregnant, Charles has been your rock, but has never expressed much fear until now. He’s always been good. Great. Supportive. “Of what?”

“Of—becoming a dad.” He pauses, as if to weigh his words. “I don’t have… a blueprint anymore.”

It dawns on you what he’s talking about. You accept the hug when it comes, holding the nape of his neck. He isn’t crying, but is close to it. His voice is shaky when he continues, whispers against your ear. “What if I don’t know what to do?”

“Baby,” you say, weakly. You push him gently so he’s looking into your eyes. “If the way you’ve taken care of me the past how many months is any indication of how you’ll treat this alien, I know she’s in good hands. You’ve got so much of your dad in you. You’re caring, sweet, you even got a headstart on the dad jokes.” He laughs. “I want this. And the only reason I ever did was because I knew you’d be with me, being an amazing dad, and an even better…”

“Boyfriend,” he says. His eyes hold hesitance—but you quell it with a nod.

“Boyfriend,” you echo. “For now.”

—

The nursery looks like a nursery in February. It was a storage room in Charles’ flat that had really, at some point, become yours, too. Full of boxes and old suits and memories, it’d taken weeks to properly store everything and make way for the furniture. Charles, of course, insists on painting it himself, with the shade of pink he purchased especially for the room.

He hits his head twice and touches the wet paint. There’s a handprint embossed above the bassinet. (Yours is next to it, at his insistence.)

—

You’re a yoga ball by mid-March, having trouble sleeping and dealing with everything being swollen. Charles helps you through it all, turning the heating up and down every time you get even a bit scratchy with the temperature in the flat or motorhome. Your cravings also morph again at this point, into rigatoni that Charles cooked sometime over winter; he requests Ferrari add an induction stove to every race weekend motorhome that you can make it to so he can cook it at your beck and call.

The season begins. Every race is dedicated to Chewy, and every race is won.

—

It’s early morning in late March when Dr. Davies sends you an email with a one-liner that sounds firm enough to set you and Charles in place after two races that involve you being flown around.

Absolutely NO more air and long car travel for Mommy.

“Can we manage?” You mope, rereading the email, genuinely distressed as you watch your boyfriend pack for Australia. It’s a long haul flight, with only one stopover in Zurich, and you’re filled with anxiety. There isn’t a compromise—until you’re popping the baby out, Charles needs to try and score the title.

“You know I can always drop out of races,” he says softly. “That’s what reserve drivers are for.”

“It’s not the same,” you argue. “I’m just worried.”

“You’re not due ’til the 12th,” he assures you. “I’ll be back then, even if it means dropping a race.”

He leans down and kisses you softly, rubbing your shoulders and ankles. “I’ll be back before you know it. Get some sleep first, okay?” He repeats the sentiment to your stomach, adding a kiss and a bye bye Chewy. You drift off to a sorrowful sleep when he departs, a slow ache in your lower back blooming that feels just like many of the other slow aches lately.

You’re up after a half hour with discomfort. You suppose something is just up with your sleep position, and readjust yourself. The discomfort sharpens, then melts. You sigh with relief, a long whistley exhale, and sleep again.

Bliss lasts about three hours, then you’re up again, groaning. You’re not due for a prenatal yoga class until four in the afternoon, and your body isn’t used to being awake. Hell, it’s not used to being this pained. You shift once, twice, trying to sleep with fruitless and exhausting attempts. It takes a while, but in between shifting positions and trying to make yourself yawn, it registers.

“Chewy.” You groan, cupping your gigantic bump. “Seriously?”

—

The first person you call is Charles, naturally. He should be in Zurich, but maybe signal is spotty or something, because none of your texts or calls ping. So you move down the list to the person you know will be in Monaco and not off racing, like everybody you know is—and it just so happens to be Dr. Davies.

You always thought Charles would be nowhere but beside you when you went into labor. But you’re here clutching the straps of your overnight bag being driven to the hospital, exhale, inhale, try Charles, try Carlos. Exhale, inhale. Try Charles. Try Carlos. Your contractions don’t quell; they only grow in intensity and you wince the whole ride through.

“Looks like it’s going to be a fast labor,” Dr. Davies says when he’s done checking you in and making sure everything is in order. You nod, breathless and flushed. You’ve called your mum here and she’s on the way with Charles’ but—Charles is the issue.

“I will weld myself shut if it means I’m giving birth without the dad,” you beg. “Without Charles.”

Charles, who picks up after forty-five minutes of radio silence. He’s in the jet. Give him an hour. “I will pilot this plane myself if I have to. Don’t do anything—don’t make any decisions without me.”

“Too fucking late.” You say, wheezy with labor. “I’m putting N/A on the certificate.”

“You carry Chewy around for nine months and I don’t get to meet her first?” He asks, in a last-ditch effort to cheer you up. You tear up, splotchy and red all over.

“We can’t call her Chewy. We never discussed names. And oh God it can’t be Daryl,” you say, whimpers turning into half-sobs of overwhelm and yearning. You’re scared. You need Charles, who’s been with you for every week, every milestone, every kick, every rigatoni craving. But he’s not here. You have Dr. Davies, and in five minutes you’ll have your mum and Pascale, but they are not Charles. You breathe heavy into the phone.

“I love you,” you say finally. “Please, I love you.”

“I love you more,” he says gently. “I love you. I’ll be there, okay? Just—just wait for me.”

—

Lil 3s ago

does it hurt?

i know it does but i’m trying to make u feel better

love from houston. i will call you ASAP.

You 1s ago

yeah it hurts so bad

apparently they don’t do epidurals

fuck europe

—

In between quiet periods and intense ones, you finally reach your peak. A nurse takes one glance and nods and your bed is disengaged and wheeling around again. Pascale squeezes your left hand, your mum the other. “Wait!” You pant, voice spent, totally tired, flustered.

The nurses exchange a look. “Ma’am—”

“No, you don’t understand. The dad, my—the dad—he’s out—and I don’t.” You pause, the onset of a cry coming on. Pascale takes the lead, firm, asking for a few more moments of patience.

“I can’t do this,” you say hopelessly, throwing your flushed head back. “No. Not without Charles.”

“I’m here,” Charles says, bounding through the door. He’s in official Ferrari gear and his hair is disheveled and he's clearly been crying. Had Chewy not been wedging her way out, you would’ve kissed him right then. You feel nothing but love.

“You’re a sneaky fucker,” you say instead, and the rest is a blur.

—

It’s an hour before the race and Charles is absent from his usual spot greeting friends and guests along the paddock. Instead, he’s leaned against the wall of the motorhome, silently digging his toes into his shoes. You knock twice before trying to open the door and succeeding. You beam when you see him. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

His two girls.

Julia stretches out a chubby hand, but he smiles teasingly, refusing to take it. He holds eye contact, holding up the ring that’d been in his clammy grip for about twenty minutes. It’s a symbol, a sign, a blessed thing, casting his girlfriend into silence.

It’s a bit dark—a stark contrast to where other guys might propose for the first time. He imagines a Caribbean beach bathed in sunset. He pictures a Jeep in the sand, a happy blonde couple jumping into each other’s arms with unadulterated happiness. He figures if you don’t like this, he’ll pay for that.

Instead, he gets: “You’re a doofus—oh.”

“Yeah.” He says, pursing his lips. He swallows, gives you the biggest smile of his life. “Oh.”

It’s perfect.

#f1 #leclsrc1000 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader

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gaiahypothesims · 11 months

Text

Get to Know Me- Sims Style

Thank you for tagging me @treason-and-plot

What’s your favorite Sims death?

Ugh man, I don't know. I don't let mine die a lot, but they do tend to die from random stupid things. Meteor death, while I was making scenes. Birthday cake fire/death from a gameplay.

Alpha CC or MaxisMatch?

Alpha. I like MM for TS4, but not so much for TS3.

Do you cheat your sims weight?

I haven't had to until recently. Laken ate a whole bunch of pie, autonomously!!! and then the next thing I knew he was all blown up and waddling around. The rest of them seem to have kept themselves in order. Its no good when taking pics of a scene and suddenly someone looks waayyyy different. Fucking Laken.

Do you move objects?

Oh absolutely. I don't think my game likes it. But its a necessary evil.

Favourite Mod?

All of NRAAS, and also all the new toddler interactions from MTS. Skins are a must for me, same with eyes. I don't like dead eyes.

First Expansion/Game Pack/Stuff Pack?

TS3- Generations or Seasons? I think. I had TS2 previously, but that was a lifetime ago and I don't remember what I did with that.

Do you pronounce live mode like aLIVE or LIVing

Live like aLIVE. What the heck man.

Who’s your favourite sim that you’ve made?

Oh lord. I have so many. I'll be the most apparent and say Jonah. Because he's just a whole legacy.

Have you made a simself?

Oh yeah. Just one though. Because I wanted to see if she'd get up to some shit. On brand as always, she does nothing. Just shows up here and there. Goes to work, goes home. No drama. Sigh. Lame old thing.

Which is your favorite EA hair color?

Oh man.. I don't know. Black? I usually change them. The brown is too green, the reds too orange... blonde too yellow.

Favorite EA hair?

Good question. Maybe this one? I don't use EA hairs for the most part. Jared got a makeover and doesn't use this one anymore, but it was one I've used before. There are some other ones that are decent but I don't have images.

Favorite life stage?

Young Adult, just because it encompasses a pretty huge frame of life. You can make them look 18 or 35+ in the same stage.

Are you a builder or are you in it for the gameplay?

I like building things, I just suck at it. I love the gameplay, but I also love making up a story as I go. So while I am mostly a story teller here, I do let gameplay dictate a lot of what goes on. High free will is always on.

Are you a CC creator?

In a way. I do have CC out there, but nothing fancy. Just make up and some paintings. I share a lot of my sims because I like making them.

Do you have any Simblr friends or a Sim Squad?

I would say that there are some older sim story tellers and such that have kept me going. There are ones that I think about a lot and would 100% credit me for keeping on, even when things aren't the same as they were before. I do it for you!

Do you have any sims merch?

Yeah for sure. Any dildo out there that you fancy is directly moulded after Jonah's dick. At least he'd say so.

Do you have a YouTube for sims?

HAH. I can't even imagine the torture of sitting through me 'playing'.

How has your “Sims style” changed throughout your years of playing?

I really used to be gameplay only. But In my mind I made up stories and dialogue as it happened and of course laughed at my own jokes and their antics. It wasn't until after TS4 came out and I really went hunting for stories that I started my own, not in TS4 because I couldnt "connect" with it.

What’s your origin id?

I don't know. I do have TS4, but I don't play it. I ended up having TS3, GEN, Seasons, ITF on there.... but then I re-bought it all on Steam way back because Origin is so shifty.

Who’s your favorite CC creator?

Oh man, so many and so niche. But generally Around the Sims is so solid and still converting and making things for TS3. They are the only person I've spent real $$ on.

How long have you had simblr?

I don't know. 6-7 years? Maybe more. I'm sure I could look it up, but... that would make me look back on my life.

How do you edit your pictures?

I used to take reg screens and then run them through Adobe Lightroom. But then I thought I would try gshade-reshade, hated it, then tried it again. I still don't love it, but it cuts down on editing time which means I can actually share/write whatnot. So I'm there now. Reshade.

What expansion/ gamepack is your favorite?

I love ITF... because its just... out there and every so often I love me some sci-fi. With that said I think the game isn't complete without Seasons and Generations. I'll be honest and say that I haven't explored the game to the fullest. I wish it would be "remastered" and more current to todays systems. It would be a whole ass banger if it could actually play on the system I have right now.

***I'm not nominating anyone because I'm so late to the game. Life is wild and crazy and I feel lucky that anyone remembers I'm still here. I love you all, and appreciate all the hearts and comments. I know I'm not as consistent or interactive as I used to be. Life has just... decided to make me work for it.

#the sims 3 #not story #tag thinger #tag thing

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divorcingjimmatthews · 1 year

Text

season 2 episode 5 reactions as i watch

huge spoilers obviously

(this is mostly for myself to have somewhere to scream as i go, its LONG AF youve been warned)

RANDALL IS SCARING ME SO MUCH LIKE PLEASE DONT BANG ON STUFF WHAT IF YOU ACCIDENTALLY MAKE THE TALISMAN FALL I AM HAVING A HEART ATTACK WITH THIS SCENE. RANDALL STOP STOP STOP YOURE GOING TO DIE DUDE

(straight up cant watch the rest of the episode because i paused it and cant bring myself to unpause lmaooo. from ends here for me i guess)

ok its over thank god

JADE STOP DRINKING SOMEONE HELP THIS MAN. hes even sleeping with the fucking journal like please he needs 20 interventions

also dammit he actually moved to the bar i accidentally manifested it LMAO

can the show please stop torturing this man with the hallucinations please and thank you

TABITHA IS IN MAMA WOLF MODE LETS GO

boyd defending sara... knowing what happened to his wife and what she did... oh man. this hurts. knowing tabitha also lost a child before turns the intensity of all this to eleven millions

LMAO ok someone calling tabitha out for her basement hole and its consequences at long last. i love tabitha but like it has to be acknowledged

"That part i cant help you with" dang Good Line

honestly cant even imagine how sara is feeling i dont know what id be doing in her situation like just watching it stresses me so much.

ETHAN BABY :'(((( im sobbing

KRISTI IS SO PRETTY oh my god i am so bisexual right now. she cant just do this. the shirtttt. i think im seeing the sweetest and most beautiful woman in the world

dhsjfhsh marielle doing the same thing with the shirt that i had the reader do in my fic i cant even

"For a long time it smelled like you. Now it just smells" i laughed so hard

"Youre still you" 🥺

SARA GIRL WHAT ARE YOU DOING ARE YOU TRYING TO GET K oh yeah wait she probably is

oh its her house ok god i thought she'd gone to the matthews'

NEW HOUSE WHO DIS

cant belive an extra got one of the few houses this is so funny to me for no reason

this scene gosh. ouch. ouch. im taking 2 damage per second watching this episode

JADE. the bottles. jade my beloved this is point of no return level stuff. mrs Liu please come get him home

VICTOR

victoooor

"You dont look good" im losing it

thank you victor

victor 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 i love him. the sweetest

JADE IM GOING TO STRANGLE YOU DONT BE LIKE THISSS

"WAIT" i fucking cant i love this man

"This took me all fucking night" jade never stop being the funniest mf on the planet please

jim calling tabitha tabby is so sweet it got me

"Faith. In you" oh boy. Oh man. Oh boy oh man. This scene. How is this show hitting every singe fucking note.

donna brought up abby omgomg

OK BUT CAN YOU BLAME HIM FOR WANTING TO FIND AN ALTERNATIVE THIS TIME

(maybe)

(arghhhh this is so hard)

"only monsters live in the woods" ethan i love everything you say. go my boy

(sara voice) okay

"The trees theyre changing" i love how victor is 100% harmless but could NOT be any more ominous lmaooo

CAR GRAVEYARD

"When i was alone i moved the cars because i didnt want to see them. Theres a lot more behind the rocks but those were already here" GODDAMMIT

no but victor is literally the sweetest man on earth. you were rightfully angry victor !! jade now you apologise.

"okay" ill kill him

victor sitting on the car 🥺🥺🥺🥺 im going to cry

what a scene. my god.

SARA HAS ONLY BEEN THERE FOR A COUPLE OF MONTHS?

"Do you live here in town" ELGIN i love you

poor julie if she knew her crush is out there flirting with the local murderer

"I like what i like and i like owls" based. thats me writing 300 jade posts per day

oh boy this scene (me about every scene)

"THAT PART ALWAYS SEEMED A BIT LIKE WISHFUL THINKING TO ME" im. ill be processing for 3 years

"Did you do something that needs forgiving?" elgin my sweet boy

jim rightly proud of his badass kid

"you put hate inside me" :'(

is she gonna give her her stuff damn shes too nice

a part of me is feeling like shes gonna smash it tho lmao

SORRY FOR DOUBTING YOU MRS LIU

i am starting to assume that everyone forgot about tobey so jade is never even gonna know that it was sara lmao

KENNY

oh my god kenny

im hurt seeing him so hurt

TOWNSPEOPLE CAN WE GIVE KENNY A BREAK OVER HERE PLEASE WHAT R U STARING AT HES VERY RIGTHFULLY MAD HE HAS EVERY RIGHT

oh elgin

elgin youre too sweet

elginnnnn

everyones gonna hate you elgin 😭😭😭 i am suffering for you

KRISTI BECAME EVEN MORE BEAUTIFUL THIS IS NOT A DRILL

now please do jade

"KRISTI WHERE ARE YOU GOING BABY STOP"

KRISTI NO NO NOOOOOO

i love her so much

"People liked him, then he changed" dont do this to me

"I am at the end of my rope" oh god

TABITHA??????

holy fucking shit im going to die of heart attack

this doesnt have captions i dont know what the creepy ghost children are saying

I WAS LITERALLY THINKING I WISHED TABITHA AND JADE WOULD INTERACT AND LOOK AT THIS NOW

i knew jim would not vote box lets goo

BOYD WHY

Randall ????

OKAY that tabitha and marielle scene from last episode was bothering me so much i cant believe i didnt think of this

what an episode my god

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ikemenomegas · 1 year

Note

jesus christ i just saw your latest jjk post and i am devastated <33 i feel like the alpha bursting into manic laughter rather than bursting into tears is a much more powerful imagery imo. Combined with your nightmare explanation, the combination of the alpha feeling bitter about the whole thing and then in the latest thing you posted, mentioned cliffs and why sorcerers dying young gives off such a raw feeling of hopelessness, despair and bitterness. The scene where the alpha starts laughing manically was giving when gojo confronted toji after toji thought he died. And that desperate moment where the alpha wants gojo to tell him if there was any hope left at all. I like that moment because its like the alpha wishing desperately for some assurance that things would be okay in the end even when its clearly looking that it wont. I wouldn't be surprised if the alpha starts slowly descending into madness like geto bc when the alpha got his bondmark removed, i got the vibe of the resentment starting to boil over. resentment towards whom? i dont think its all necessarily directed at gojo but rather at the situation. and the moment gojo steps out of that box, id imagine that his mate wasnt the same person he remembered, especially recalling the last lines in your nightmare post:

But what he doesn’t see, behind the mask Satoru wears and Shoko’s distance and Suguru’s death and your silence is that you all became monsters. Maybe Gojo Satoru chose to keep you close because for a while you were the only one left.

If the kids don’t come back, you think it might just be enough.

Gojo Satoru isn’t the only nightmare in the world after all.

The alpha's response to everything was always silence and the thought of them finally going apeshit and releasing all their pent up anger and feelings is something ill def think about everyday.

Thank you so much!! I cannot believe you put so much thought into this and that you actually went back and put in the quote! I really appreciate you saying that this stuff sticks with you. It sticks with me unless I get it on paper so now we all suffer together haha.

I'm really glad that what I was trying to put off came through. You're absolutely right that this alpha has spent a lot of time telling themselves that somehow "things are okay". They are starting to teeter over into that place that Geto ended up - where all of your sacrifices, all your pain, once meant something and now it doesn't mean anything. Sorcerer's aren't supposed to have "ideals" or lofty principles which they fight for.

If you've seen the "sorcerer rules" that gege wrote, it mostly boils down to: fight curses, don't tell normal humans that you're doing it, and listen to the jujutsu elders. We've seen before how the ones who do find a less selfish goal end up dying in ways that are terrible, often some way avoidable, and also directly related to their goal (the jujutsu code does not ask for lethal self sacrifice or suicide, but based on cultural context, would not be considered dishonorable. ie nanami could have turned around and gone for healing/help but he didn't and saved the students by sacrificing himself).

This oc has a lot more empathy than Satoru or Suguru - they can see why people make bad decisions, understand and even forgive them for it. They have the maturity to deal with people regardless if a bad decision is going to threaten the lives of the people they love or are obligated to protect. But apart from being more emotionally tuned in, they are very much like Suguru - including the part where they keep their silence until it just becomes too much, it doesn't mean anything anymore.

There are a lot of aspects of their relationship with Gojo that are just not tenable. They give him a lot of leeway because their relationship is built on contract, and because they do understand him somewhat. There are things they can't talk about, can't deal with, even though they have deep affection for one another, because of their job. And you're right, that's not Gojo's fault, but it also kind of is. The alpha doesn't want to pressure or rely on him like the rest of the world, but if you can't rely or lean on the other person in the relationship, then even if there's mutual understanding and even love, what does that mean when one of the people is left alone? The alpha may feel like they weren't relying on Gojo, but the truth is even his presence is stabilizing - in a mated pair, that bond is there even when you can't feel the other half and now it's gone. The alpha would love some honest reassurance or at least someone to tell them which way the world is going to tilt, because you're right they know they can survive without Gojo, but without the kids (and loving your kids is a very different relationship than loving your spouse) they don't know which way the world is tilting. I also never though gege would kill Tsumiki, but that's another raw wound there because she was never supposed to be involved in any of this. The panels imply that Gojo and Megumi canonically kept this from her and if she were herself she'd be mad about it (which I sort of break because alpha has a less obvious technique and has done things for Tsumiki before that technically show their powers).

To quote you: "Sorcerers dying young gives off such a raw feeling of hopelessness, despair and bitterness" precisely. I don't think anyone can look at a situation where children and teenagers and young adults experience more trauma and grief than most people encounter in their entire lifetimes and are not bitter that the people they love who experience this don't get to experience an equal amount of joy or love or appreciation or happiness before they perish.

This OC has a lot of tolerance. Their technique (like how most techniques relate to theme and personality) is partially centered around that. How much can you take before you break? For this oc, the answer is a lot more than most. I haven't written this part yet but they were injured in the Toji fight as well. They just weren't broken by it they way Gojo and Getou were. Riko's death hurt, sure, but they had failed before and knew what the sorcerer system did to show you that failure was possible way more intimately than the other two did. In this way, the OC and Shoko mirror one another.

This is the arm breaking moment, this is the week they start to crack, and the way their technique works is either they break or something else has to, because all that pain and pummeling has to go somewhere.

The fun part about this OC is they're Gojo's age-ish, so I get to do something shonen anime doesn't often get to, and show that adults still have growth and power-ups! If negative feelings are related to cursed energy etc and unlocking your own mental blocks in order to use it, well... depending on how things go in the manga there's some potential directions for oc to get some payback.

#ask answered #jjk spoilers #gojo satoru #io.myy #from the notebook #worldbuilding #tw suicide #for mentions of such as applied to the rules of sorcerers fighting a supernatural battle #io rambles #again #I talk to much #way too much!!#but I love this oc a lot and this series is getting messy but i still enjoy it #also i hate to do this but this is a gentle reminder to please use gender neutral pronouns when talking about my oc's #i use gender neutral pronouns so that everyone who reads these pieces can feel like they relate to the reader-insert character #please let's continue that even it asks so that we can keep that relatability going!#(i know sometimes phones autocorrect so I'm not going to make a fuss but please just be mindful <3)

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sewercentipede · 1 year

Note

i'm genuinely curious abt why you have crimson peak :o it's one of my favourites as a modern gothic (though i am biased towards guillermo del toro for how he uses colour and shape) and i always wanna hear other takes on it? also bc like. if you have something to recommend in its arena that you like better, i always wanna watch new moview

id have to watch it again so i could pick apart every single thing i hate because thers a lot. like every single scene i could pause and tear apart. its been years so ive forgotten everyhting (ive watched it twice btw i tried to give it a second chance)

from what i remember:

the first scenes depicting what initially seemed like it was gonna be so creepy, immediately made me laugh so hard bc they chose to just give us a full glimpse of the worst CGI-ghost-wraith imaginable. this moment setting the stage for the rest of the film made it really suffer. proof that when it comes to some horror especially gothic horror...less is more

the main actress was a terrible choice imo. she did fine in jane eyre, and thats the only time shes ever done fine. which is fitting. but everything else she does (aka any emotion required beyond haughtiness and brooding and like, reading lines that arent directly pulled from 19th century novels) is so fucking unconvincing. i actually think most of this could be blamed on the script itself, and less with her acting prowess, which leads me to my next point

the dialogue was fucking ghastly like, ooof....... so cliche....... so so so cringey, unimaginative, "trying to sound deep", unconvincing

and the necessary plot devices/maneuvers to make things happen that i didnt feel really made sense at all, in general and also when it came to some of the characters' motivations. i think this was a writing problem in character development and actually portraying effectively why things were happening and why characters were making decisions in ways that the audience wouldnt question if that makes sense

loki did a good job w that role and honestly he alone was the only redeeming quality of this movie

also the whole fucking plot after she gets to crimson peak made me wana kms like. it was so bad im sorry. bad pacing, ineffective buildup of tension, the scary parts the tension led to were just more bad CGI, the lack of development of the main character as A PERSON w certain core strengths and weaknesses in all the scenes leading up to this and the decisions shes makes here (bc in the whole movie she seems to always make contradictory decisions and have contradictory motivations, and theyre not affected by really anything that happens in the movie? she basically has whatever personality a scene requires her to have to further the plot), made this part of the movie suffer.

i feel like a lot of it had to have been edited out perhaps, because the series of events felt extremely clunky to me.

and by the end, i wasnt invested in any of it, any of the characeters, any of the exttremely forced romance between main girl and loki guy, so the twist and ending scene and climax etc etc had zero impact on me

as a result of this and much more i found it impossible to feel invested in it and it (and shape of water) helped me realize guillermo del toro has made good movies but that doesnt mean everyhing he makes is good, and as a fan of a lot of his work, im ok w admitting that

as far as modern gothic horror................ hnnnmmmmmmmmm i honestly could use recs myself.

aside from the obvious interview with the vampire (the original as well as the TV series) and bram stokers dracula, (YES movies from the 90s are modern to me ok??), the TV show Midnight Mass is a great modern gothic horror story. you also might like the jane eyre movie that features michael fassbender and the actress from crimson peak, i quite liked it , having seen several adaptations of that movie it might be my favorite. but it doesnt quite count as modern gothic horror in the modern sense. theres also dracula untold, idk quite if it fits this genre (considering it's also action), but i thought it was good

#Anonymous #sorry to hate on a fav of urs

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livecharliereaction · 26 days

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That went by so fast i havent even processed i already read the whole episode after parties included. What the fuck i need to read my own liveblogs

ange didnt actually do shit but its still perfect because just her PRESENCE is so great i just like having her around making her comments. i recall mentioning it at some point but a Sarcastic character as a personality trait is a little hard to pull off because its so easy to make it so unfunny and annoying even... but she is so witty somehow... and shes not really MEAN she is a great talker i do think this she gets along with people GREAT... Yet she has only enemies in this world. How cruel. Ange if i was in your time i would be crying in my bed at night over the fact we woudlnt be friends.

erikas another one whose screentime i aaaalways enjoy now that i got to know her last game shes sooo much fun seriously

i somehow understand beato even less now didnt know thats possible. not sure if i like the dual personality thing she has going on id have to know more

The way she looks just like you is what I really can't get over...! I can't stand it...

kanon n shannon are so Nice. Not mind blowing not life breaking but i did cry over them that one time in the other episode i think theyre very NICE. And maybe im wrong but i cant recall kanon smiling and laughing ever before like he did this episode... Theyre nice both of thme

THEY MADE HER SAY THAT TOO? the au au (i dont know what to make of it but they obviously want me to think of hanyuu with the last convo with bern but i dont know if its like. Crazy direct in that that IS hanyuu or less tangible of a connection u know. Remains to be seen)

again i dont understand beato at all how did she weave herself up just from kanons words they seemed quite normal to me... is it the additional part about observing the trial and all maybe she understood something when it was said that shannon and kanon have less than a whole human soul But beato its ok because i TRUST you to have an explanation for everything in the end...

Somehow very happy that georges past was explained up it feels like the story knows hes a total loser and leaves it up to me to decide if i think he ha somehow redeemed himself through the power of love or not (me i dont think so because his and shannons love doesnt speak to me aside from the scene where she breaks a mirror - and even that i mostly like from the perspective of shannons character and her trying to become human more than As a scene for the couple...) (but now i feel like the storys giving me room to think that instead of me having to actively hate it something something multiple truths yeah)

lol i was probab imagining some vague epilogue stuff nuh uh they married right on my screen just now in the tea party (this was about george n shannon but well battler n beato did too) (I dont know how to feel about it yet though it was just golden land so it might not carry over i mean it should in case battler n beato but it might now i dont really get the time physics still)

ange is so amazings

that EVA appearance... the womb stuff yeah that will get to me it will oh eva...

I did trust erika to deliver last episode too but this one stabilized it that girl is an ACTOR and a DETECTIVE and a NEAR PERFECT PLAYER IN THE GAME an ENTERTAINER and has a cute dress too. wow how amazing It feels too early to do some kind of rankings but i will say if she is someones favorite i Will understand

the tea party w the unions and all i do have to wonder if thatll carry over to the next game... Human kanon?.......But maybe probably not since bern game master

HONORARY SCENE MENTIONS: the intro with the wedding and closed room flashforwards (havent had a foreshadowing scene with unknown narrator for a while - higurashi loved to do that) + kanon admitting his feelings for jessica both first to shannon n then jessica aww + erika fiercely fights miss maria age 9 over nothing + battler showing up to the love trial yayyy + the little scene with dlanor where erika goes I love you. and dlanor goes What did you say? cos its so ooc. crumble of erika lore #cheating + doll jessica how cool will probably never happen again + erikas PERFORMANCE to get the packing tape ...I... Furudo Erika... haev packing tape...!! + beato erika duel near the end i forgot how fun her playstyle is that beato

AND THEN THE TOP 3

BATTLER REJECTS BEATOS COOKIES AND TALKS TO HIMSELF ABOUT IT! How heartbreaking! Wheres beato i was grieving TOO! Woww

Erika seals battler to the closed room special shoutout to the part where she reveals she "re-killed" everyone severed their heads and shit. Who does that? She is just so crazy crazy girl i loooove her.

The wedding of course... The penetrative description of her putting the cursed ring on him... the festivities... the erika dress... the knox crew argument about the windows with gaap... the overall feeling of a This is a cursed wedding. Someone is going to object and the fact that lambdabern was acknowledging this kinda too they were like Girl where is she... the letter addressed to lambdadelta... the beato gaming... Wowwww

IN CONCLUSION. Greatest episode ever did u notice i listed almost every scene literally. What the fuck. I hear it only gets better too. Ok goodnight. erika fan club

#charumi6

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420movies · 6 months

Text

Tangled (2010)

Just lie about Rupunzels birthday?? And she shouldn't even know about the outside world? That brie Larson movie the room or something where the kid escapes in a carpet. When will my life begin?? This is all you know!

If the tower is blocked up how did mother gother get up and down the tower when Rapunzels hair was shorter? Why even teach her the concept of birthdays? Why even teach her how to talk?? Why give her books? Skip the drama stay with mama was so so iconic and ahead of its time. Honestly wow cultural moment it.

Caring about your wanted poster is very One Piece coded.

Did you fancy that horse? I'm sorry what the fuck how dare what how

No but seeing the horse from Tangled is like seeing a god. What he has done for the world and my own mental health cannot be understated. If ever I don't laugh at the horse I am dead. A well isolated tower? This is so easy to find what the fuck. It would definitely be a pokestop or even a gym. Some would say that iron Man Vs Captain America is the best combat fight in modern cinema but it's literally just Rapunzel with the frying pan first meeting Flyn. I refuse to believe that she knows so much about the outside world but doesn't know what a fucking hat is. Kuba thought Rapunzel was Naruto. Why give Rapunzel paint. Packing gothel a very Ghibli lunch.

Not Flyn instantly falling in love with a seventeen year old! Nonce!? Okay she is serving face in that first scene. Yeah what kind of a name is Rapunzel.

How is he not concussed after all of this? Is this whole movie a weird hallucination he's having??

The plan about seeing the lanterns for the crown? Actually genius fair play. She knows she can seduce him in that time too to make him WEAK! Honestly such a queen.

As a rule, the movie tangled as a whole is just like brioche bread.

How does she know that tower is made of bricks and that they can move individualy? Does seeing him get down the tower like that not freak her out? Can only enter or exit with hair. Unless that's how mother gothel did it before? Oh that would make sense but how would she have the upper body strength?

Okay her first reaction to grass is good but how does she even know what grass is?

I'd love to watch mother gothel reacts to tangled. Imagine her seeing Rapunzel escape and she's like no bloody way.

Id love to see a tangled where this plays out. She makes it back from the lanterns and gives the guy the crown back and she just spends the rest of her life sneaking in and out of the tower.

'like a grape' SO ICONIC.

How does she not have hairy legs?? She really is a child ew.

When the horse eats the wanted poster I die.

Can't believe she dropped her basket.

A tangled where mother gothel never found the satchel.

There is no way they animated her hair at the same length in every shot.

One of my favourite breaking into song moments. The hot women that ends up with the ugly guy? Bitch what is wrong with you he is grim as fuck love yourself stop with the charity work.

OPINIONS THAT WILL HAVE YOU LIKE THIS.

Wow too bad Rapunzel was socialised so well. What and how.

Maximus! How dare I forget his name.

HOW DOES HE NOT KNOW THAT SHE CANT LEAVE THE TOWER THATS HER WHOLE THING WE HAVE HAD SONGS

This relationship is so bong soon and her CEO

What conditioner does she use though.

Why would they make a dam there? There is nothing there? They don't need one?

Dying like that fucking sucks. I would panic attack myself to death before drowning

How does she know what drowning is?

He told his dead name way too easy? He was begging for someone to ask him about his name. Let me tell you my TRAGIC backstory I beg of you I'm actually an orphan uwu

Why she gotta sing so slow and smoochy. Get it over with.

You can't tell anyone about this.. she always calls him Eugene and he always responds? He wants it to happen so badly.

Gothels voice though holy shit she has pipes.

No socks with boots?? Red flag.

Animal handling nat 20.

I love when she first goes to the city. This is the whole reason I love this movie. The music and everything. Her moment of wander and pure joy I want it so bad. I want to feel the pure joy she feels. The girls braiding her hair?? My Roman empire

NOT THE DANCING SCENE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

The joy and happiness she brings people is so so Tohru Honda.

Maybe I love these characters is because I want to be like them but I'm autistic so I don't know how.

Omg and Rapunzel having two parents that love eachother and both want to find her. Yeah I'm jealous that is a flex

The fact that her parents always set off the first lantern chokes me up man.

THIS SONG NO NO NO

My stomach is flipping I love this song

Cry time.

This song is how I felt when I was in South Korea. This is where I'm meant to be.

Not Flyn saying he's only fallen in love cuz she turned 18 today.

They definitely fucked in that boat with the lanterns imagine the vibe fuck. Okay maybe not with the chameleon there.

How is she going to let one man ruin the best day she's ever had.

That is the fastest death row I have ever seen. Why even bother celling him?

Omg when she sees the patterns it literally so iconic. What cinema.

Bitch opened her third eye.

Rapunzel what are you doing up there? Mother not now I've reached enlightenment.

The moment with the glass breaking to symbolise the illusion of the towers safety breaking for Rapunzel.

How did he not bust his nuts with that landing.

That horse probably getting such a high honour for this undercover mission to save the princess. Oh wait he literally does. I forgot.

HE SAID LET DOWN YOUR HAIR.

See this is what gothel should have done with rapuzel on day one.

Wait heal him but have him chained up so he'll die slower of starvation.

HIM CUTTING HER HAIR OFF WAS SO SO BASED. WHAT A MAN OH MY GOD.

Gothels deaths keeps up with the older Disney princess tradition of all evil mother deaths must be scary as fuck.

You were my new dream. Iconic I should get a tattoo. No Disney adults are something else what an ick.

Would love to see a Tangled 2 Disney straight to DVD where we see that her kids have inherited her powers! Blonde hair too!

IMAGINE HOW THAT FEELS AS A PARENT! How they did this scene with no talking was genius on Disney's part. I mean what would they even say to each other. How the queen pulled him into the hug too 😭

The ugly guy and his hottie no no no

Yes Max with the promotion.

The lanterns in the day as opposed to the night! They aren't lighting up the night to look for her! They're sending them up in celebration they don't need them for their light! Just aesthetic.

This credit song pops off

#no i do not proof read these #420stoner #420life #420culture #movies #movie review #disney #tangled

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ennaku-sirri-da · 2 years

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Jimbit (Jimothan X Habit) HCs courtesy of me and Mika [Part 2]

OK so

@zeromet FOR YOU!!! (AGAIN YAY) [Plain text: For you!!! (Again yay)]

Also clarification here that sometime Kamal and Habit ‘open’ their relationship and Trencil is generally OK with his partner having other romantic partners AKA OK with polyamory. I guess they all worked it out ha

--At the end of a really good spaghetti western

Habit is doing the celebration stuff and so is jim and he straight asks jim if they can kiss ( I guess Trencil and Kamal would know by now that these two are gay for each other. They don’t really do anything they just let it happen naturally)

And Jimothan is so caught up in the moment he says yes and they kiss for way too long and then the credits come on and they panic

Habit immediately drives home with sleep-deprived nightmare-moon Kamal

Jimothan immediately offs all the lights and rolls into bed at 3 AM

---Damn spaghetti western night goes on late!!

Imagine Jimothan and Habby watching the sun rise...sleeping on each other.

Habit uses Jim like a pillow so that he doesn’t squish him. He’d be so gentle with Jim because dude’s a noodle. Thats also just how Habit is and it flusters Jimbo!!!

--Anywaysss somewhere after The Kiss(TM), Jim and Habit just admit they like each other and then they date because they’re both straightforward like that ha.

--When Jim and Habit just start out as a couple its real awkward but they both have patience so its fine. Lotsa awkward laughs and scares. Maybe kamal and trencil needed to help wingman a little.

--Habit purpousefully loses their arm fights to Jimbo just to see the joy on his face and hear him laugh

--Jimothan calls Habit Tamil nicknames( My HC is that Jim and Pars are tamil like me!!) BUT[plain text: But] He doesn’t tell him what they mean or tells Habit a very unsapped version

From Kanamma to Kanmachan...

Kanamma means a woman\girl who is the apple of your eye! Machan means brother-in-law, but it is also casual slang for calling your guy-friends.

Kanmachan is an entirely made-up mashup by me LMAO Machan of my eye.

Habit calls Jimbo his yeehawty

--They go on horseback riding dates( Borrowing Lulia’s horses cuz that girl is rich!)

old guys helping each other up on horses....🥺(pleading emoji)

....AND THERE WAS ONLY ONE HORSE OMG [Plain text: And there was only one horse omg]

(Lulia lies and says the others are too tired rn so theres only one they can ride)

(I owe you my life Lulia)

Habit is huge and Jimbo is short so Habit has to lift Jim up but only after Jim tries and fails himself

Jimothan almost falls and dies BTW but Habit catches him

[ Gif description: A man catches a woman in a dip like a dance. end GIF]

Unfortunately both Jim and Habit’s backs start hurting because of it and they roll around in the grass a bit for pain relief

Its incredibly romantic

the horse rolls its eyes but what does it know of romance hm?

--Habit: "bay-bee our loaf defies the lawls of physics 🥺(pleading emoji) " [translated: baby our love defies the laws of physics]

Just like a Kollywood movie!!

[ GIF: Scene from a movie. A guy drives a cycle and a big truck swerves to avoid him, bumping off of something hard and flying away at the end. end ID]

Big Habit X Jimbo vibes. I bet Jimothan has a big decorated truck. Its like his third kid( Nat is the second because Bloody Mary--Jim X Trencil are married! )

Habits like Jimothan can I😳(flustered emoji)sit beside you in your truck (*Pushes Parsley away)

Parsley is buff as hell so he could probably beat Habit up but he’s too tired so he just gets thrown to the back anyway.

[GIF: Scene from a movie. Police guy gets out of a moving car in slow motion and points a gun into the distance. end GIF]

Jimothan doing stupid shit to impress Habit^

‘‘Look I am a ‘Bad Ass’ like the Kids say’‘

Habits clapping and giggling and cheering for him while Pars already has his insurance on the phone.

More Jimbo stunts.

#headcanons #jimbit #jimothan botch #dr habit #my friends hcs #flashing tw #police mention tw #jic!#gif #s4m #smile for me game

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ellieshouldntexist · 3 years

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Cupids Chokehold-Wilbur Soot

so just bare with me for a second, ⟟ was listening to music on youtube and the song “Cupids Chokehold” by Gym Class Heros started playing and ⟟ just kept thinking about what it would be like for Wilbur to sing it about you to his stream? So now i’m writing an imagine about it. This is my first genuine Tumblr post and ⟟ don’t really get how this platform works so be nice.

let me set the scene; you’re sitting next to Wilbur in his office and he’s doing a causal “just chatting” stream with you.

“chat ⟟ recently learned the chords to this song and it reminded me a lot of Y/N and i’s relationship, and since she's here i’d like to play it for you guys and get her genuine reaction.”

“oh god. i’m scared?”

“don’t be darling, ⟟ bet you will enjoy it”

“Take a look at my girlfriend, she’s the only one ⟟ got”

“Not much of a girlfriend, ⟟ never seem to get a lot”

you start so smile and admire your boyfriends elegant singing voice.

“its been some time since we last spoke, this is gonna sound like a bad joke but mama ⟟ fell in love again, its safe to say ⟟ have a new girlfriend”

“and ⟟ know it sounds so old, but cupids got me in a chokehold and i’m afraid ⟟ might give in, towels on the mat, my white flag is wavin’“

“⟟ mean she even cooks me pancakes and alka seltzer when my tummy aches”

you think of how you wake him up with fresh pancakes every chance you get and the amount of times you've had to nurse him back to health after he eats too many.

“if that ain’t love then ⟟ don’t know what love is”

“we even got a secret handshake, and she loves the music that my band makes”

LOVEJOY !!

“⟟ know i’m young but if ⟟ had to choose her or the sun id be one nocturnal son of a gun”

oh wilbur, you already are one nocturnal son of a gun

“take a look at my girlfriend, she’s the only one ⟟ got”

“not much of a girlfriend, ⟟ never seem to get a lot”

“its been a while since we talked last and i’m trying hard not to talk fast but dad i’m really thinkin’ ⟟ may have found the one, the type of girl that will make you proud of your son”

at this point you are literally blushing so hard and chat is going feral.

“and ⟟ know you heard the last song, about girls that didn’t last long, but ⟟ promise this is on a whole new plane, ⟟ can tell by the way she says my name”

literally any of his songs can apply to this statement.

“⟟ love it when she calls my phone, she even got her own ringtone”

“if that ain’t love then ⟟ don’t know what love is.”

“its gonna be a long drive home but ⟟ know as soon as ⟟ arrive home and ⟟ open the door take off my coat and throw my bag on the floor, she’ll be back into my arms once more for sure”

“take a look at my girlfriend, she’s the only one ⟟ got”

“not much of a girlfriend, ⟟ never seem to get a lot”

“she’s got a smile that would make a senile annoying old man bite his tongue”

“i’m not done”

“she’s got eyes comparable to sunrise, and it doesn't stop there, man ⟟ swear, she's got porcelain skin of corse she's a ten, and now she’s got her own song”

“but movin’ on”

“she's got the cutest laugh i’ve ever heard and we can be on the phone for three hours not sayin’ one word and ⟟ would still cherish every moment, and when ⟟ start to build my furniture she's the main component.”

“call it dumb luck, call it love or whatever you call it but everywhere ⟟ go ⟟ keep her picture ⟟n my wallet like here”

you show chat how he literally has a polaroid of the two of you in his wallet.

“take a look at my girlfriend, she's the only one ⟟ got”

you grab his face and give him the biggest kiss before melting into his arms

“⟟ don’t know about you chat but ⟟ think she enjoyed it?”

you'll end up seeing clips of this on twitter forever, twt thinks this is the cutest thing ever.

ANYWAYS HOW WAS MY FIRST TUMBLR POST HAHAHA

#wilbur #wilbur soot #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x y/n #mcyt #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #dream smp #dream smp x reader #imagine #fanfic

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dangerousstrawberryshark · 3 years

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Just Accept it! (READ THE DAMN DISCLAIMER!)

A/N: Hello, my 🍓Little Strawberries🍓! I'm back with another fic for you! Couldn't find a better pic

Pairing: Yandere Henry Cavill x Trans male reader; Tyler Hoechlin x trans male reader. (mentioned)

Rating: MATURE

Warnings: Male Pregnancy, use of drugs, kidnapping, no consent. (what you expect? This yandere)

Word count: 3560

Summary: It started out with acting, then it went to stalking, and it went to him kidnapping you. And it ended with you spending the rest of your life with him.

I hope you enjoy this! Sorry if it's bad! And sorry for any errors that are found!

If you like what I write, how about check out my masterlist?

Keys:

E/c: Eye color

H/c: Hair Color

H/l: Hair length

S/c: Skin color

Y/a: Your age. (Pick an appropriate age)

DISCLAIMER!: THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING TRANS MALE READER. I'M SORRY IF ANYTHING OFFENDS ANYONE.

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DISCLAIMER: I MEAN NO OFFENSE, DISRESPECT, OR HARM TO ANY OF THESE CELEBRITIES! THIS IS JUST FICTION.

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MINORS DNI. FEMALE READERS… I’LL ALLOW YOU TO READ MY FICS BUT DO NOT FETISHIZE ANY OF MY STORIES

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Henry was currently waiting for this someone to come. 'I wonder who it could be.' he thought to myself. We were going to start acting in the new TV show, Superman & Lois.

(Okay, I know that Tyler stars in this, but I'm just going to switch him out with Henry and play as Lois. You can change the name)

He then sees some guy, who looks small and innocent. You had h/l and beautiful, most dazzling e/c. His s/c looked smooth and soft like a freshly made bed. (?)

He looked to be Y/a. You looked so ethereal, a walking sex god. The source of men's sexual desire. He was so sexy and hot- 'Wait- what am I thinking? I'm not gay- I have a beautiful girlfriend, I need to stop thinking like this.'

Henry sees you approach me. "Hi! I'm assuming your Henry right?" you questioned, tilting your head. "Y-yeah- I'm Henry! N-nice to m-meet you!" Henry sturred over my words.

'Shit, why am I nervous around him? What is he doing to me?' Henry then heard a little chuckle. 'His laugh- AAGGHH!'

"Well, nice to meet you, Henry, I'm M/N!" you gave your hand out, Henry hesitantly shook it. 'His hands are rough and large!' you thought.

(Sorry, but I'll be using M/N.)

'His hands are so soft, like a baby's skin! I just wanna hold it forever-' Henry said to himself before pulling back. He didn't realize he had a rough grip on your hand.

"Ah- sorry about that," Henry said scratching his head out of embarrassment. "It's okay!" you gave your famous smile. Henry blushed.

'Why is this happening?! What is he doing to me!' Henry's mind was going all over the place, he was having a gay panic. 'What's wrong with this guy? I thought he was supposed to be calm and collected?'

You had no idea what was going on with him. "Well- I gotta go..." you said, backing away slowly before going to someone and starting a conversation with them. Hoping it won't be as awkward or weird

Henry just stared as you walked. He didn't notice that his hands were twitching. You could feel his stare piercing through your head. Such a dark and dominant stare.

'Maybe, he's just staring at something that so happens to be in my direction!' you said to yourself.

(No you dumb shit!)

"OKAY! Everyone, we're gonna be starting soon. Everyone to your stations and gets ready!" The director yelled. "Take M/N and Henry to their dressing rooms."

"Okay, sir. Come on!" They grabbed you and Henry to get dressed and ready.

They put on Henry's iconic Superman suit and they dressed you as Lois or the male equivalent of her. You looked at Henry and blushed a little. 'If I wasn't married to my husband, I would've gone for him. But he's straight.'

You looked away so Henry wouldn't notice but he did. 'He was blushing... AT ME- STOP IT!' Henry then glared at you. You noticed his glare and looked away. He didn't mean to glare.

"Okay, everyone get to your positions! Do you two know your lines?" The director asks looking back and forth. You both nodded your heads. "Okay, go on the scene and be ready!"

Once you both got there and got in position, the director yells, "ACTION!"

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TIMESKIP (END OF THE SCENE)

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(I don't know what they be doing at the studio.)

"Hey- Uh... M/n!" Henry called out. You turned to face Henry, "Mh?" Henry looked at you trying to get the words out. "Uh... You have something to say?"

"Uh- well." Henry scratching his head. "I'm sorry... for glaring at you earlier today." He was now blushing hard while grinning.

You looked at him confused about what he was talking about. Then you remembered earlier. "Oh-, Its okay Henry! I know you didn't mean it." you smiled at him, reassuring him that it was okay.

You were about to continue, but you got a call. You looked at the caller ID. "Hubby😘" is calling, your husband was calling. "I got to take this call." you then walked away to a private location.

Henry was curious so he followed you. He knows this is eavesdropping, but he wants to know, "what was so important about a phone call?"

Apparently, he took too long but he heard this. "I love you too." Henry left before you could spot him. 'He loves someone? Why do I care if he is in love with someone?'

"I'm gonna have to go! Bye Henry!" You then left leaving Henry behind to think about what was happening.

'What are you doing to me M/n? I never felt this way before.'

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TIMESKIP (6 months)

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You and Henry have been acquaintances for 6 months. Henry's feelings for you grew and grew but there wasn't that ultimate trigger that would finally set the bomb off.

Until now and later on today. (so two ultimate triggers.)

You wrapped your arms around Clark's neck. You were shorter than, so all you saw was his muscular chest. Clark then wrapped his arms around your waist, looking into your beautiful e/c.

Alarms were going off in Henry's mind as he pulls you closer to him. 'This is actually happening.' M/n smells so nice like fresh lavenders.

Your lips then met Clarks. You tilted your head a little to the side to have better access. Though his nose was kind of in the way. You closed your eyes as you fully gave in.

'He tastes so sweet like chocolate and strawberries.' (You eating my children?) Henry was getting real intimate with the kiss.

(Was that a good kissing scene? I have never seen the TV show)

"CUT!" you pulled back before walking away to get a drink. Henry was still in a daze. Your lips were so soft and delicious, he wants more. Henry never felt like this when kissed his girlfriend.

In fact, he was getting disgusted by her touch and only wants you to touch him. Hell, sometimes you made him hard and he would imagine having sex with you while having sex with her...

He was about to approach you before he heard that... voice. "BABE!" his girlfriend... Henry then felt two arms wrapped around him and a small kiss on his lips.

Henry felt like he wanna puke. It wasn't like the kiss he had with you- even though it was just acting but it was real to him- but he had to act like he enjoyed it. "HI! You must be Henry's wife, right?"

You intervene in their conversation. "Yes, I'm Henry's wife- well girlfriend! My name is Natalie Viscuso! You must be M/n? I'm a big fan of you!"

You and Natalie kept talking and getting along. Henry was just watching, he was getting angry and jealous. After about 30 minutes, Natalie went back to Henry.

"Sorry about that, I got carried away. How about me and you have some fun when we get home?" Henry just nodded his head without giving an expression.

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TIMESKIP (5 hours later. At Henry's home)

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(I know that Henry's real-life GF/Wife is a good lady. Remember, this is fiction)

"A-ahh! H-henry... you f-feel so good! Y-your... dick is... s-so BIG!" Natalie moaned as she rode Henry's cock.

Henry didn't seem to enjoy it, not one bit. He pushed- not too hard - Natalie off of him. "Why did you stop?" she said confused, Henry was getting dressed.

Henry didn't pay attention to her and just walked out.

The next morning, the news of Henry's and Natalie's break up spread like wildfire. Nobody understood why he broke up with her, they were doing just fine.

Henry didn't feel upset. While walking around last night, he began to think how you made him feel feelings he has never felt before.

He likes how you touch him- even though you didn't mean to. He likes your soft lips- even though you two were acting. He feels disgusted whenever he was with Natalie. Angry and jealousy surge through his veins whenever you talked with someone that wasn't him.

Henry now accepted that he likes you.

When you got the news of them breaking up, you were shocked. "Henry are you okay? I heard you and Natalie broke up," you asked worriedly.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Henry replied, nonchalantly. "You don't seem upset about it..." Henry just stared at you with his deep, dark eyes. 'What's wrong with him?'

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TIMESKIP (3 MONTHS)

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You've been waiting months to tell Henry something very important. You were nervous, scared, and... paranoid.

During the 3 months of waiting, you feel like you were being watched. Wherever you gom even in your own room.

You told Henry about it -since he was a close friend- and he told you not to worry about it saying, "You're just paranoid, it something you shouldn't worry about."

But you still kept your guard up. You made to look around and if you see someone looking suspicious. But tomorrow, you were going to come out to him.

You arrived at a... Dunkin Donuts (?) and ordered some donuts and coffee and took a seat by the window. You looked out to see some people walking by. There was a car that had black tinted windows, you couldn't see who was inside.

You pulled your phone to text Henry to come and talk with him. But that wasn't necessary, Henry walked and turned in your direction. "Hey, M/n!"

'How did he know I was here? Or was it a coincidence?' you thought. Then you felt a rough hand on your shoulder. "Mind if I sit here?" you shake your head.

Henry took his seat and ordered some food and coffee. 'It's too crowded here.' While seating there, you could feel stares and glances. You just ignored them.

Henry stared at you with love in his eyes, taking in all your features. Then he notices something on your finger, 'Is that a ring? IS HE ENGAGED? Or..... is he MARRIED!'

Rage was running through his veins but he had to calm himself down or you'll notice.

You had enough of his staring and break the silence. "I need to tell you something but it can't be here." that snapped Henry out of his daze. "What do you need to about?"

"It's something personal and it can't be here." You said getting up, and stressing your muscles, and heading out the door. Henry nodded his head before getting up and following you out.

As you two were walking, just taking in the fresh air and sounds of cars driving by. "So, what did you want to talk about?" Henry turned to you.

"Well... I hope you don't look at me differently..." you said looking down at the ground. "I'll never look at you differently bab- M/n."

You took a deep breath. "I'm trans..." you said quietly but Henry still heard you. "Oh... just because you're trans doesn't change what I see in you. You're still a man," Henry said putting his hand on your shoulder.

You smiled at him before jumping onto him. Henry wrapped his arms around you. He wanted to stay like this forever, you just in his arms feeling your warm, heat against him.

But sadly, you pulled away. "Thank you! Thank you!" you're glad Henry accepted you.

But Henry knew you were trans. Remember how you feel like you were being watched? Well, that was all Henry, he would watch you play with yourself. He would masturbate to this, he was quite turned on about this discovery.

'I'll accept whoever you are baby.'

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TIMESKIP (1 week)

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It's been one week since the whole coming out thing and Henry was gathering the confidence to ask you out. But today is the day.

Henry got a text saying, "Meet me at the park." so naturally he did. He didn't spot you at first until he recognizes your h/c. Then it's at that time he notices someone else there.

This bastard had his arms wrapped around you, and he gave small kisses on your lips. Henry's right eye twitched as he watched the display right in front of him.

'Who the hell is he?!? Is HE the one that M/n married?' he snapped out of it when you called his name to come over.

"I'm glad you came Henry! This is my husband, Tyler Hoechlin. Tyler, this is Henry, one of my friends!" you said with a smile. 'So, that means his name is M/n Hoechlin.'

Tyler gave his hand out and Henry shook it. Henry had a rough grip on his hand, squeezing it. And he just glared at him. "Well, let's go!"

Henry just glared at Tyler the whole time. 'M/N should ONLY have my last name! I should be the one with him!' Tyler notices how Henry was glaring at him the whole time. But he wasn't fazed by it.

'I'm gonna find a way to get rid of you! Or I could just take M/n?'

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TIMESKIP (3 DAYS)

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It had been 3 days since Henry met your husband, and he wasn't happy at all. Today he wants to hang out with you, and talk about something. Henry called your phone and waited for you to pick it up.

Meanwhile... (This is my first shot at writing smut with TMR.)

"A-ahh! d-daddy... your c-cock... is so... b-big!" you moaned as rode Tyler like your life depended on it. "Fuck, you're so wet and warm for me, M/n. Your tight little pussy feels amazing!" Tyler groaned as he thrust further into you.

Tyler sees that your phone is vibrating, 'Henry?' Tyler smirked, he knew that Henry was glaring at him with hate and stared at you with love. 'This will teach him who my baby boy belongs to.'

"Be a good boy for daddy and answer the phone." Tyler handed you the phone, you took a look at the caller and noticed it was Henry calling. "D-daddy... I-i can't do... it with y-you- thrusting... i-into me!"

Tyler stopped his thrusts but as you answered his call, he thrust right back into you. "A-ah!"

"Hey, M/n! Are you okay?" Henry questioned. "Y-yeah... I'm okay..." Tyler stopped thrusting, you could his cock pulsing and twitching inside you.

"You're little pussy is wet for me. You like it when I rub you here?" Tyler then began to rub your small dick. You tried to not moan out loud.

But Henry could tell, that you were moaning. And he was angry and just hanged up. "H-hello?... I think he... h-hung up." "Now, I can fuck you!" And he went back to banging you.

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TIMESKIP (5 DAYS)

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5 days after the little event, Henry hasn't called you. You tried calling him and seeing what's wrong, but he never answered.

Tyler kept telling you to not worry about him. Meanwhile, Henry was just in his room masturbating to a picture of yours and mutters, "You belong to me... Tyler and your's relationship is fake! We kissed, we held each other, and so many other things."

The acting seems to make Henry delusional, cause he believed it was all real and that you meant it. He has to find a way to make you his and he just how to do it.

There was a party coming up. You and Tyler would both be attending.

You and Tyler both arrived at the party. People were drinking, dancing, and doing other weird things. "I'm gonna go get a drink." Tyler nodded his head.

He went over to a table and sat down. Tyler wasn't the type to get a drink. Meanwhile, Henry kept his eyes on you. 'This is going to be a fun night!' You thought.

But this will turn out to be the worst night you'll ever have.

Had a few drinks, you were trying to find Tyler in the crowd but couldn't find him. You didn't feel the vibration in your phone, "I'll be waiting for you in the car."

As you were walking around, you felt yourself being pushed up against a wall. "Oh... *HIc* T-Tyler... I didn't *Hic* know you could be *Hic* this rough."

Henry pinned you against the wall and crash his lips against yours. Sweet but tasted like alcohol. 'Since when did Tyler become all muscular' Then you felt a needle pierce through your neck and injecting you with some kind of drug.

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TIMESKIP (After the party.)

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You woke up with a massive headache. Your mind is still blurry but after a few moments later you could see properly. You noticed a cup of water and headache pills by it. You took it.

Then, you realized, this isn't your room and that you were wearing a bunny outfit! 'What the fuck? Where am I?!' Then you began to feel hot and needy.

Your pussy was leaking and clenching around nothing. Your small dick was aching to be touched. "Is my little bunny awake?" A deep husky voice said.

You turned in its direction to notice that it was Henry?! But your mind was getting clouded with lust and want. "H-Henry...?"

"Shh, baby. Daddies here." Henry said getting closer to you and pulling you to his lap. Your hands were now on his shirtless chest, feeling his hairy pecs.

"Where's... T-Tyler?" you questioned, bad mistake. Henry smacked one of your cheeks. "DON'T EVER MENTION HIS NAME! YOU BELONG TO ME! FORGET ABOUT HIM!"

You were getting turned on. It must be the drug he gave you, cause you don't like it someone yells at you. "You're leaking so much slick? You want daddy to help you?"

Before you could respond, Henry pushed you down onto the couch and you could feel his meaty cock at your front entrance. "Your little pussy is leaking so much, you don't know how much you turn me on."

Henry lubes his cock with your slick before pushing in. "F-fuck! You're so tight! I guess Tyler didn't fuck you that good." Henry groaned as he pushed all the way in you.

He let you adjust a little before thrusting back into you. "You're so wet, tight, and warm. Better than my ex!" Henry groaned as he feels you tightening around him.

His hand then went down to stroke your cock. "A-ah!" you moaned as you tried to turn your face away. "You're close? Me too!" you could feel Henry thrust into your womb.

He was hitting your pleasure spot tip-on. "M-mmhh!" Your body clenched before convulsing beneath him. Your muscles twitched around his cock.

"Fuck, you came! I'm close! You'll look so beautiful swollen with my kids. The thought of spending the rest of my life with you just makes me wanna cum!"

You could feel his cock burst inside you. Feeling you up with his cum. "Get pregnant from this!" He stayed inside you before collapsing onto your smaller body.

He was leaving love marks. "You belong to me now, M/n..."

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TIMESKIP (DECADE LATER)

«⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕»

It has been a decade since you were taken away. A decade being with a monster- who you looked up to before. He had taken you away from others.

You were in the kitchen cooking some waiting for him to come home. "PAPA! When is daddy coming home?" your oldest child said playing with his lego spaceship.

"He'll be home soon. How about go play with your siblings?" they nodded their head before heading to their room. You gave birth to Henry's children, when you had O/C/N, you promised that you'll take them far away from this monster.

You looked at the ring. It was no longer Tyler's ring but Henry's. Just as you said Henry, two strong muscular arms wrapped around your waist.

"How is my beautiful husband doing?" you tried pushing him away but it didn't work.

"Just accept it, M/n. You'll never escape me, and you don't want anything bad to happen to your- no- OUR kids? Right?" tears began to pour out your eyes.

"No. Please don't hurt them... they're just kids, they did nothing wrong." you cried trying to not alarm them.

"Then just accept your fate. You've been resisting for 10 years, it's no use. No one will ever find you." Henry whispered into your ear.

"Just accept it."

THE END

«⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕»

A/N: I hope this was good! I'm sorry if anything is incorrect. Do you like my new format? Anyways, bye my 🍓Little Strawberries🍓!

#x trans male reader #trans male reader #x male reader #male reader #henry cavill x male reader #yandere henry cavill x trans male reader #henry cavill x trans male reader #henry cavill imagine #yandere henry cavill x male reader #yandere henry cavill imagine #yandere henry cavill #male pregnancy #I'm sorry of this offends anyone

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hongism · 3 years

Text

touch of the devil - k.hongjoong 18+

↣ pairing: hongjoong x fem!reader | ao3 version (mxm seongjoong) ↣ genre: angst, fluff if you SQUINT, nsfw, fantasy, supernatural, demon!hongjoong, emo rocker!hongjoong, there do be plot tho. ↣ wc: 9.0k ↣ summary: you came to make a deal with a devil sure, but this is the last thing you were expecting out of a night in a dingy bar. ↣ warnings: explicit smut, mention of death, demons, it’s actually really heavy on plot and angst and less focused on the smut ↣ a/n: again i know it’s my birthday but this is my present to you guys, i am a person who prefers to give rather than receive on my birthday and this was the first thing i wanted to work on during my hiatus!! i’ve got so much inspo and motivation rn that it’s crazy and i can’t wait to have everything all set out for you guys when im back :3

﹊﹊﹊

Everything about the air around you is heady and thick in a way that chokes you as you step through the fogged bar. This isn’t your sort of scene – not one you would typically find yourself frequenting on a Friday evening without even so much as the company of a friend – and yet here you stand with hands pressed into the pockets of your black leather jacket. There remains a dull thrum in the atmosphere of the club, a steady rhythm of bass and vibrations that makes your ears ring but you do your best to ignore it in favor of reaching the bartender.

“Just a rum and coke please,” you murmur, hand sneaking out of your pocket to lay a few bills flat against the wood counter. You tug your ID card out as well and flash it in the man’s direction when he raises an eyebrow at you, but upon seeing it, he relents and steps away from you to get the drink.

The question remains of why exactly you are in such a dismal and hopeless scene full of people too drunk off their rockers to even fumble around the bar with some sense of dignity. You, who is neither dismal or hopeless yourself nor are you drunk in the slightest (at least not yet).

The answer is simple. This is a breeding ground, a festering cesspool of desires and greed, and it is the prime place to find what you are looking for in terms of deals with the devil. Maybe not one specific devil, but certainly whatever demon you can get your hands on tonight. And you have quite the lot to choose from it seems, because as you glance around the neon-lit building, you can spot many pairs of red eyes glinting under the lights. You know you have no right to be picky — any and all of them will get the job done — but you can’t help but to note that none of them are as appealing as you imagined they would be. When your friend said that these demons thrived off of lust and appeal, you figured that meant they would purposefully up the ante in terms of physical appearances.

The disdain must show on your features as the bartender begins to speak again as he sets your drink down before you on the counter.

“None of them are for you,” he utters, and you twist back to look him in the eye.

“What do you mean?” You inquire, chin tilting to the side in question, and the man huffs out a small laugh.

“They have their prey already. Picked ‘em the second they walked through the door. All it takes is one look to figure out what these needy people crave from them, what appearances they need to take, what voices to use, what outfits to wear. For people like you, though, something more is required before the real games begin.” He points a single bony finger at your face, staring you down over the length of his digit like it’s the barrel of a gun, and that has you shifting in your seat a bit.

“Something… more?”

“One must have a particular level of certainty before coming to make a deal with a demon, ma’am. But you — you don’t seem to truly know what it is you want. And for that reason, the King will see you with no ruses or deception.”

On the contrary, I wouldn’t have dared set foot in here if I didn’t know what it is I wanted, you want to say. However, your attention is held rapt by his final sentence, the one that held unspoken promise to it.

“And by that you mean physical alterations?”

“You catch on quickly, Miss.” The man leans forward, tongue darting out to swipe over his lower lip, and you glance over the motion only once before pushing away from the counter. He notes the slight annoyance in your features a moment later. “The King will like you quite a bit.”

“When can I expect for this ‘King’ to present himself?” You prop an elbow up on the counter and give one last forlorn glance around the bar in the hopes that someone will come over your way, but it’s to no avail.

“Patience, human. The show hasn’t even begun yet.” He motions towards the middle of the bar, the starkly empty space with a glossy stage set in the center with only a microphone held delicately in its stand and nothing else. You had been hoping to make this a speedy trip — a quick in and out with your deal made and nothing else — but it seems you won’t be having that luxury. And it is a bit frustrating, honestly, to come to this place with the expectation of having a demon cater to you and your wants only to be told that you aren’t certain enough for these supernatural beings, so you’ll have to wait on a demon who won’t cater to you or come to you immediately.

You take a quick swig of your alcohol with the desperate hope that perhaps drinking will make you more certain of what you want, although you already know it won’t. The bartender offers a shrug in response to your annoyance then pulls away to tend to other customers, and you take it as an invitation to swivel in your stool and face the stage. It’s still fucking empty, but at least it gives you a better view than the old wood of the counter that now sits under your elbows.

“Leave it to men to make me wait on them, demon or not,” you mutter under your breath, breath fogging the side of your glass a bit.

You nearly choke on the liquid inside in your next breath because the swirling red neon lights come to a halt on the center of the stage, and the suddenness of the shifting lights startles you so much that you have to sit up straight and inhale deeply to keep from coughing on the alcohol in your mouth. The hazed mist hovering above the floor of the bar seems to swirl towards the stage under the beams of light. You watch the movements as though in a trance, slowly leaning forward until your elbows come to rest on your knees. Out of everyone in the bar, you seem to be the only one interested in what’s going on at the center of the room. Mind you, everyone else is preoccupied: demons with their humans, and humans with the mask-wearing demons who cater to their desires. And while you have no reason to be so intrigued by the scene before you, you truly cannot bring yourself to look away, especially as the dull thrum of music in the bar heightens and gains momentum.

There is no way of describing the sounds rumbling around you. Perhaps if you were fully in your senses, you would be able to distinguish the instruments and beats of the song, but the bass clogs your mind and leaves you squinting at the hazy stage. It could be poetic, the way a lone figure pushes his way through the crowds of the bar like he holds all the power in the universe, studded black leather jacket slung around his shoulders. And as the red lights come over him, you can see his features better. Dusty brown hair that shines a bit, one side exposed and cut shorter than the other, which has bangs that hang loose over the side of his face. Metal bars line both ears, another near the end of his left brow, and a final more intricate one that loops around the middle of his lip and connects to two long metal chains. You follow the path of those chains with your eyes, watching them trail downwards until they loop around his chest and disappear behind his jacket. It’s just a black turtleneck that he wears underneath the dramatic leather regalia and chains but somehow he makes the garment look expensive. You dare glance a bit lower, just enough to make out the frayed and distressed jeans that cling to his skin like a vice, leaving hints of enticing skin underneath to peek through. You can’t see his feet thanks to the fog, but you can practically hear his footsteps drumming in your ears with the rise and fall of his shoes.

Simply put, you are entranced by the sight of this man — if he can even be called that, because you wouldn’t find yourself at all surprised should he reveal himself to be a demon on the tail end of this encounter. He barely looks up from the floor on his trek to the stage, only stopping when he comes before the mic stand and exhales against it in a way that sends shivers down your spine. It’s hardly reasonable for any creature to hold your attention in the palm of his hand the way this one does, but there is no chance of you looking away now, especially as his voice begins to drawl through the microphone and coat your ears like honey. There are words, you recognize enough in the music to know that it should be a song you’re familiar with, but none of them truly process in your daze.

It’s all you can do to just sit there and watch his performance. Between the gentle sways of his shoulders and hips, the teasing drag of his tongue over his lower lip whenever there is a break in his lyrics, and the overall intoxicating nature his aura exudes, you are hooked on every breath he takes. You don’t realize how relaxed your body has become under his spell until it’s too late, and that happens to be the last note of the song as well. It is accentuated with the drop of the glass in your hand and a sharp shatter of the cup against the floor. And just as you inhale a startled gasp and break out of your reverie, his deep crimson eyes flicker over to find yours across the bar. Those twisting lips churn something ugly in your gut. You can’t find the strength in your body to move.

“Mine.”

Your heart leaps in your chest as the word leaves his lips, and while you can’t hear it grate against your ears, you can clearly read his lips enough to know what he’s saying.

His eyes glint a bit in the darkness. It shouldn’t leave you wanting more, but that bitter taste of curiosity is nipping at the back of your throat, and you are far too intrigued to turn back now. You just want more. If he seems to understand that at all from the gleam in your eyes, he makes good on it, stepping off the stage and letting his hand drag over the mic in a way that is almost tantalizing. Step after step, he comes closer to you with his lips still curled into a smirk, and the way the lights hit him makes him seem to glisten and glow in the darkness. You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until he breaches your personal space and you release a shaky exhale that seems to fog in the air between you. He stretches a hand out to close the space between your bodies and curls his index finger under your chin. The touch is simultaneously hot and cold — your whole body seems to light on fire under it, yet at the same time, the chill in your bones deepens to an alarming degree.

“What is it you desire above all other things?” You can hear him now, loud and clear, and whilst you heard his singing beforehand, the simple rasp and lilt to his regular tone is something that has you unashamedly weak in the knees. “I can give you everything,” he whispers as he presses closer to you. Your knees brush against his form but he keeps on pushing forward until he’s slotted himself between them. The chain hanging from his lips rattles like a chime, singing its unknown song like church bells in the night, although you are far from God and heaven now. “All you need to do is ask.”

You cling to some semblance of reason while you can, knowing full well that it will all leave you soon enough, but for now, it lets you choke out a single statement that has the demon before you laughing under his breath.

“That’s not how it works.”

“And who are you to tell me how it works?” His finger curls a bit harder at your chin, and you can feel the blunt of his nail scraping over your skin. Your eyes are glued to his, so enamored and consumed that you can’t even think to look anywhere else.

In that moment, it is as though the universe is nothing but a speck of dust in the corner of your vision. Something so raw and whole like the man standing before you is all-powerful and vigilant in a way that has every nerve in your body at full attention, ready for whatever his next step might be. And that turns out to be quite the curveball as it seems because he leans closer to you, breath intermingling with yours, and you subconsciously curve your back into his touch to reach him closer. Still, even though you physically show how ready and desperate for the touch you are, he waits and glances over your features.

“What is it you desire from me, human?”

You have to vehemently restrain yourself from simply saying ‘you’ and getting on with it.

“Your name.”

“Is that all you would have from me?” As a demon, it is his life’s work to know the inner-workings of the festering desires of humans. You have no doubt in your mind that he knows exactly what is it you want, even if you are not sure of it yourself, and you do not doubt that he won’t use that to his advantage either. But that’s what you asked for in coming here, and that is exactly what you both expected and wanted out of this.

Perhaps it is shameful, but just for once, you wanted to surrender control. Too often are you asked to have everything set out and planned and under control, and too often do you find yourself wanting someone to just tell you what it is you should do. That could be why the bartender labeled you as ‘uncertain’ because even in this moment of vulnerability, there is still the thinnest thread of thought tethering you to that control. And as of now, you want nothing more than for this demon before you to break that thread.

“I would have your name before I asked for anything else from you. Calling you demon over and over would certainly wear out its welcome, no?”

“That all depends on the context, my dear. But… you can call me Hongjoong, if that’s suitable to your tongue.”

“Hongjoong,” you try, testing the way the name rolls off your tongue in such a delicate manner that the demon before you flutters his lashes a bit.

“Sounds so pretty coming from lips so innocent.” He tilts his head to the side, and the movement flashes the pretty expanse of skin below his jaw. You aren’t shy in the way you let your gaze slip over it before trailing back up to meet his eyes again. “Would you close your eyes for me, doll?” He doesn’t have to ask. He could just make you do so with no resistance but still, he asks as though you could say no if you wanted to. You don’t though, and as such, your eyelids fall shut and your vision turns to black for the time being. “Do you know who I am?”

“Th-The bartender called you the King.”

“And do you understand what that means? Truly understand with every fiber of your being?” The question is heavy on your bones, and it is one that you feel like you should know the answer to yet you can’t find any response to his inquiry. Perhaps he means to confuse you because you hear the soft huff of a laugh fall from his lips. “King of the Underworld, Lord of the Dead. Some would call me Pluto, others Hades, it varies from religion to religion and in every culture. Sometimes I pick up rather banal and common names, other times I find myself seeking something extravagant and luxurious. Now… Hongjoong will be a good middle-ground for us.”

You should be falling to the floor in absolute shock due to his words, but the steady finger under your chin keeps you steady. That and the growing fear in your gut as you come to realize that this man holds so much power in just his pinky finger and could absolutely crush you under his heel whenever he wishes. What are you to a god besides an insignificant fleck of dust on the pavement?

“And what of your appearance? Is that… manifested as well?” You dare to ask.

“I have many faces, yes, but this one is one I wear boldly and frequently. You could say it is my natural form. After so many millennia of fantastical myths and legends, however, I’m sure that would seem odd to you.”

“Are you truly a demon then?”

“King of demons, yes. Whether I am truly a demon myself is something that could be ambiguous, I suppose, but if they are all part of my creations, then would that not make me one myself? Though you could say they are all fragments of my own being, making them all mythical gods. It’s all a matter of perspective; however, I doubt that you came searching this place for a lesson on perspectives.”

“No, I came for…” You trail off, and that blossoming uncertainty from before presents itself again.

“There are two things your heart wants right now. One, I can give you with ease and grace, only if you would allow it. That desire is a fleeting one, however, and I do not think it is what you are truly after in being here. The second… that is a wish I cannot deliver, and I think you are more than aware of that. The reason everyone left you to me is because of what you want. It is a domain only I could ever touch.”

You blink your eyes open in haste, searching his deep crimson gaze for some sort of confirmation of the words. The demon dares to look forlorn and lets his stare drop to the floor rather than looking you directly in the eye. Confusion blossoms in your gut. Yes, you figured there was a slim chance that your wish could not be granted, but still you clung to the desperate hope that maybe there was just a small window of opportunity for such a wish to be granted.

“Death is irreversible,” the demon, Hongjoong as he wishes to be called, says in a quiet tone. “I cannot give that which you want more than anything else.”

“Then what can you give?” You ask, squeezing your eyes shut as tight as possible to keep your emotions from slipping out the corners.

“One of two things: I can give you time to speak with him once more or I can make you forget the pain.”

“And if I choose the latter?”

“It would make you forget everything about him and leave you with no memory of him at all.” Hongjoong exhales a small sigh, the bouncing rhythms of the bass rumbling against your ears along with the sounds of his breaths. “You need not decide right this instant. The payment will be the same either way, so we can settle that first if you’d like.”

“W-Wait,” you stammer. You dare to open your eyes once more. “How would I be able to speak to him if you can’t bring him back?”

“I cannot bring him back the way you want. He… he is gone, and though I am the King of the Dead, there are powers even I do not have. Bringing him back to life is impossible, but I can create a doorway for the two of you to speak through for a short period of time. I have no control over how long it would be, just a forewarning. That is all up to him and his willingness to see you.”

“I can’t imagine he wouldn’t want to see me,” you murmur, but the pang in your chest tells you otherwise.

“Sometimes, death and the underworld change fundamental parts of people. They are no longer alive, after all, and as such, those human vices and personality traits dissipate. How you knew him in life could be vastly different than the spirit who now resides in my domain. It is all a matter of weighing risks, my dear. What matters most to you? Remembering him or him remembering you?”

“So if I ask to see him, I would remember him but there’s a chance that he would have no recollection of me? And should I ask to forget, there will be no way of knowing whether he remembers me in the afterlife or not?”

“Precisely.”

That is a hefty bargain to weigh. It is almost too much for your shoulders just to think about it. One is starkly more selfish than the other, but if he’s dead, what good will selflessness do you? It won’t bring him back, that’s for sure. Either you are left with the painful realization that he does not have any memory of you in the afterlife, or you forget it all to avoid that pain. Maybe thinking about the payment before deciding would be a good idea after all.

“As for the payment? How many years do I owe you?” Demons have no use for human currency or trinkets that could be traded for favors. You can barter the only thing you have — years of life. Whether it shortens your lifespan or turns you into a personal slave for a certain amount of time, that is a price you must be willing to pay for such services. You are more than prepared to barter it all off right now if need be.

“None,” Hongjoong answers coolly, and you quirk a brow upwards at the nonchalance in his tone. “I do not deal in years of life. Not often, at least. My abilities are bound in… passion. Lovemaking, fornication, sex, fucking – whatever you wish to call it. Of course, it wouldn’t have to be that exactly, should you not desire that. The other option is a blood pact, a ritual that would take hours to complete, although both could take quite some time depending on your stamina.” There’s a breath of silence that allows Hongjoong’s lips to twist into a suggestive grin, and heat brushes the base of your neck as you fight off waves of embarrassment. “I cannot guarantee that the blood pact would be painless. With sex, I could at least provide some comfort that the pain would only be temporary; however, the choice is yours. Both are binding and would mean that you could never make a deal with another demon again, and you would be marked as mine for eternity.”

“What does being yours entail?”

“Nothing diabolical or unsavory, I promise. Just… when the time comes for you to pass on and join the Underworld, you would take a place at my side.”

“How many people have you laid claim to? Did they all agree to the same terms? How can I trust your word?” The questions tumble from your lips without relent.

“For what you desire, the cost is far less than what I would usually ask for. Those lucky enough to deal with me in the past paid less for their debts. The blood pact… the fornication… both are binding elements. The real cost is your service. Most have agreed to give me their servitude in the afterlife, all with their own places in my domain. That is what you would be offering as well. You will live just as long as you would without making this deal but make up for it after your death.”

“And that’s it?”

Hongjoong’s eyes twinkle a bit under the lights above your heads.

“What did you expect from me, doll? Savagery? Unfairness? Everyone deserves a fair price for what they want, regardless of station in life or status in society.”

“Deal,” you utter without any more hesitation, blinking up into Hongjoong’s dark orbs. There lies a lingering sense of regret in your gut, one that you cannot chase away no matter how hard you try, but you do not need to dwell on it any longer.

“And how would you like to bind our deal, my dear? Neither can be handled immediately. The blood pact requires special preparations for the ritual, but the other — I would not have you in such a place as dirty as this.”

“I-I, um, sex will work just fine,” you bite out, the skin of your cheek caught between your teeth.

“Then when the time comes that you are ready with your decision on what it is you truly want, all you need to do is take this—” Hongjoong retracts his hand from where it rests gently against the column of your throat and digs into one of his pockets. He pulls out a gilded card, one that is black and gold with flecks of red across the surface, but there are no other adornments to the material. “Tear it in half and it will bring you to our meeting place, and I will join you there to seal the deal. Should you decide that you do not want this after all, then all you need to do is burn the card. The decision lies in your hands, and yours alone.” He has to lift one of your limp hands and forcefully place the card into your waiting palm, closing his fingers around yours to make you cling to the item.

“I – th-thank you,” you stammer as you blink from your closed hand to Hongjoong’s features.

“The pleasure is all mine, doll.”

Those are the last words you hear from the demon before he slips away from you, the dense fog lingering in the air swirling up around his body, and within moments, his shadowy form disappears entirely from sight. The air grows cold around you once more. You are left with only the fleeting desire for that warmth to return, for you to feel less alone than you are in that moment, and even if it’s the briefest visit ever you just want one last chance to tell your lost lover how you feel without mistakes this time.

///

The night, as per usual, is cold and unforgiving. It allows for too many opportunities to be alone with lost feelings and thoughts. It has been weeks (if not months) since you visited that dingy club and your fateful meeting with none other than the King of the Dead. Yet you are still here, wallowing in the memories that you’ve been left to suffer with alone, and the gilded black card sits in your nightstand untouched. You open the drawer just to stare at it from time to time, when the nights are particularly rough, and it already had begun collecting a thin layer of dust the last few times you looked at it.

It isn’t that you haven’t made your decision about what you want from your deal with Hongjoong. The more terrifying fact is that you are fully aware of what it is you want, and you simply cannot rectify the guilt that comes along with the pure selfishness of your decision. The feeling is so potent that it swarms your every thought. You know it wouldn’t be an issue once you meet with Hongjoong; the demon will take it all away and leave you with nothing. You won’t even know enough to be guilty any longer, but the pain of committing to the decision is strong enough to make you sick to your stomach.

Wooyoung — the one who suggested you go to the club and make the deal in the first place — will not shut up about how worried he is about you. You won’t recall the deal or why you made it, so what’s holding you back? A temporary guilt that won’t exist longer than a few seconds once you’re actually in Hongjoong’s presence? As he said, you just need to swallow the feeling and get on with it. Prolonging the regrets any longer won’t do you any good.

You huff out a quiet laugh in the silence of your darkened room. The black gilded card taunts you again now, gleaming up at you through the shadows with its faint hints of gold and red. Maybe Wooyoung is right and the only way to get rid of missed opportunities is to forget about them entirely. Yeosang was but a chapter in your life, one that is past and gone now, and as Hongjoong said, there is no reversing death. Seeing him one last time won’t give you anything but pain.

You stretch a shaky hand towards the card in the drawer. It’s cold to the touch, dust billowing up with even the slightest touch of your fingers. You have to dig your nail under the material to pull it up, and once it’s safely set in your palm, you drag your thumb over the surface to brush the dirt away. No words on the surface, no sign that it has been touched by a demon, and not even a hint as to what it could possibly be for.

It is surprisingly flexible, at least moreso than you would have imagined, and you give it a few testing bends to see how easy it would be to break. Hongjoong simply gave you the instruction to tear it in half and that was all. You don’t expect him to suddenly materialize before you on a whim, but surely such a creation is bound by some sort of magic on his part. It is hard enough to believe that demons are real living creatures, but magic as well? Maybe you’ve passed on and just don’t realize it yet. Still, you exhale one last huff of air into the darkness before letting your eyes flutter shut. Taking the card between your hands, you begin to slowly rip the material until it separates with the force, torn in two mismatched pieces.

Nothing fantastical happens.

That fact alone is so overwhelmingly disappointing that you really think for a moment that Hongjoong was just some goth rocker in a stoner bar who pulled an elaborate trick on you. It can’t be too difficult to get your hands on some weird red-toned contacts and weave some elaborate story about being the King of Hell. You could do that yourself. Why did you think he was incapable of such a charade?

Because he knew what you wanted without you having to say it.

Yes, well, Wooyoung claimed that your regrets and grief were evident in your features every time he looked at you. Maybe Hongjoong could see it as well.

You fall back onto your bed, flattening your back against the mattress with a small shout of frustration. The urge to cry is strong; if you’ve spent all these weeks uselessly worrying over something that could all be a farce, you don’t even know how you would react. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, blinking away the tears that blossom in the corners there as best you can. The rolling emotions in your system distract you from the sudden shift in temperature, and before you know it heat washes over you and fills the void of cold in your body. You jerk but refuse to sit up quite yet, eyes flying open in your shock only to choke on air as a bright golden light fills your vision and swarms you with warmth. The cushion under your body doesn’t feel the same either; it is not your bed, it’s too plush and soft, too warm under you, and you feel like you are absolutely drowning in the sensation.

Gold flickers above you, twinkling lights that glisten like small stars above you, and the ceiling is so dark that you nearly think it’s just an opening to the night sky. You sit up in a mad panic. The gold and red decorations littering the far too lavish room barely process in your vision as you look for a way out, and you don’t even see the figure coming up along your side until he’s upon you. A hand stretches out to brush over your forehead. You nearly shriek in your state of terror, but the sound is all but stolen from your lungs instead.

“It’s only me, doll. You’re safe.”

Hongjoong. Ah, Hongjoong. Then… he was telling the truth. It wasn’t a farce or a deception meant to be a game. He claimed to be the Devil Incarnate, and here he stands before you in a room too rich and exquisite for words. You can’t find it in you to think he’s lying now.

You dare to glance up and meet his gaze, finding it so soft on your face that you have the audacity to blush under his stare despite the things you’ll be doing with him soon enough.

“Have you made your decision then?” He asks, tone soft and light. It isn’t one that demands an immediate answer. You know he could ask what took you so long to decide, complain about your hesitance, say that you kept him waiting for far too long — instead, he exudes patience with you, hand slowly combing over your forehead down to your cheek and brushing over the skin there with a touch so featherlight that you almost don’t realize it’s there at all.

“I-I have,” you whisper like the two of you aren’t the only ones in the room and it’s a secret meant only for your ears.

“What would you have from me first then? As I told you before, the payment is the same regardless of your decision, and as such, we can bind the deal first if you’d rather.”

You swallow around nothing. There is no harm in going through with the decision now, but your nerves are so frazzled and out of sorts that you almost desire the sex simply as a means of stress relief. Hongjoong steps in front of you, fully coming into view, and you are shocked at how… mundane he looks. You blink fervently at the man — demon, rather — and take in the gentle part of his hair, the soft glow of his skin that makes him look simply ethereal under this light. He hardly looks like a demon to you; his features are too smooth and perfect for that, from the curves of his lips to the even line of his nose. Although you suppose that’s all he wants you to see, yet it still seems oddly intimate to a certain degree.

“You aren’t worried that I’ll try to run away after my wish is fulfilled?” You ask. Hongjoong arches his brows at you, and his neutral expression slips into one of momentary shock.

“Where are you going to go, my dear? I brought you to this place, and you will need me to send you back once we’re done here.”

It sinks in at that moment how you are completely at his mercy right now. Not that you had any plans of running away, but the question was moreso just to test the waters, see if he is truly as merciful as his features make him out to be. The underlying danger in his tone proves your point and sends a chill down your spine.

“Is that something I ought to be worried about, doll? Should I claim you now to make sure you keep your end of the bargain?” The question sits on your ear like warm honey. It chokes you, fills your senses with Hongjoong’s scent, and you almost find yourself leaning into his curling lips before catching yourself. That seems to pique his interest in the very least, and his smile twists a bit more. “The decision is in your hands as always. I won’t do anything you don’t give me explicit permission to do.”

“Permission granted,” you mutter before catching a hand on Hongjoong’s collar. “Do it all.” You aren’t too worried about damaging his clothes as he’s not wearing anything drastically fancy or expensive-looking, and thus you twist your fist into a ball around the fabric of his black tee and yank him down to your height. He bends at the waist, hands catching on the mattress before his forehead can smack hard against yours. There’s a bit of tension in his neck, and that keeps him far enough back so that he doesn’t kiss you quite yet. It’s almost as though he is waiting for something else, eyes carefully tracing your features with great care before he settles on your lips, and a sharp inhale of breath follows before that thin line in his composure snaps.

His lips hit yours with a surprising amount of force, and the kiss isn’t at all what you were expecting — well, to be more accurate, you aren’t quite sure what you were expecting in the first place. It’s much more pleasant than you could have imagined though, and Hongjoong isn’t shy with the touch at all. His tongue is quick to swipe over your lower lip, hands darting upwards to brush over your sides before reaching your face, and he brings a knee down on the mattress to support his weight as he leans over you. You follow the motion when he pushes forward and lean back until you have no choice but to scoot back on the bed. Hongjoong moves with you with the same amount of fervor, still pressed to your lips without relent, and you don’t even think to stop as he completely drapes himself over your body, knees still up and supporting his weight. The cushion of the mattress dips by your head, a telltale sign that he’s placed his hands there, and you use that as your opportunity to stop for air. Hongjoong surely has no need to breathe like you do since he is undead, but he still pants above you, chest heaving as a pretty flush rises to his cheeks.

“Putting that much power in a demon’s hands is dangerous, is it not?” He mutters. You let your lashes flutter shut as he moves back to your lips, hot breath ghosting over your skin. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

“I’ll tell you if it’s something I don’t like,” you murmur, opening an eye to peek at him. He meets your gaze with a soft laugh, but your answer seems to please him enough to bring his attention back to your lips. You inhale as his tongue breaches your mouth and pushes into the wet cavern inside. There’s no chance for you to fight back for any sort of dominance because he only thrusts deeper and coats the inside of your mouth with his taste until you can feel his tongue brushing over your palate. A quiet moan reverberates through your throat and against his lips. You feel the barest hint of a smile in the kiss, then his lips are suddenly gone from yours. You gasp for air with the freedom. Heat pools in the depths of your gut, a pleasant one that leaves you wanting more, and you aren’t sure if it’s simply been so long since you last had sex or if Hongjoong truly has that effect on you.

He returns to touching your body a moment later, hands trailing to the row of buttons on your nightshirt, and one by one, he pulls them apart until the material is barely clinging to your skin. His lips replace his fingers then. First at your jaw placing a wet trail of kisses and soft nips that leave you with goosebumps. Then he reaches the midpoint of your sternum and rests the flat of his tongue there, tasting and teasing your skin until you can do nothing but writhe under him because he is taking so damn long. Your impatience is laughable to him, as evidenced by the quiet huff of air that leaves him next.

“I want to taste every inch of you,” he mumbles against the skin of your stomach, hands pulling your nightshirt away to expose more of the skin underneath. He makes good on his words, and that damn tongue traces lower and lower until he reaches the band of your pants and underwear. You instinctively dart a hand down to tangle in his hair. “F-Fuck.” The curse slips out when you give an accidental tug to the hair close to his nape, and you nearly think that you’ve hurt him in some manner until you catch sight of the blissed-out expression on his features.

“D-Do you — can I…?”

“Do it harder while I eat you out,” he growls. His fingers close hard around the remainders of your close, and you don’t even have time to nod before he’s yanking both your pants and underwear down in one fell swoop. It leaves you more than a little exposed — you’re suddenly nearly nude before the demon who is still fully clothed, and that realization draws your thighs tight together in a sudden rush of embarrassment. You swallow hard around nothing, eyes darting away from Hongjoong’s prying gaze.

All of a sudden, he shrugs your hand off his hair and sits back on his heels. You don’t understand what his reasoning is until you settle your eyes back on his body. He’s leaned back to start stripping layers of clothes off in a rush, hands fumbling and struggling to pull them away in an orderly manner. There is no composure to his actions, only a hastened fervor that has him tossing his shoes far from the bed along with random articles of clothes until he’s laid fully bare before you. You really try your hardest not to glance down at his… you know, but the urge is overwhelming. Before you can even catch a glimpse, however, Hongjoong is on you again, hands latched around your thighs and pulling you to the edge of the bed as he kneels before you on the floor. The sudden movement has you squealing in surprise, and that noise is broken off into a startled moan when Hongjoong’s lips brush through your folds without warning.

“O-Oh god,” you gasp out. Hongjoong’s tongue gives a long and dragging pull through your heat, teasing some of the juices out of you with little restraint.

“Far from it actually,” he replies against your clit. A cheeky grin eats away at his features, but it quickly disappears as he returns his focus to your cunt. Your hand finds its way back down to his hair once more and tugs hard at the strands. Each tweak of his tongue through your folds has your legs jerking a bit, and he has to tighten his grip on your thighs to keep you from moving so much under his touch.

“I’m not — I w-won’t last, pl-please, I–” You can’t even finish the sentence as Hongjoong flicks the tip of his tongue right over your clit and cuts you off. He repeats that same motion, again and again, brings you right to the precipice of an orgasm only to tear you back down from it with soft kisses pressed to the outside of your folds. You can’t keep track of how many times he repeats that process, but it is more than enough to have you shaking from exhaustion and desperation even though you haven’t even been able to come yet.

“Are you going to beg for it, doll?” Hongjoong hums after what feels like hours of pleasurable torture. “I promised to make you feel good, did I not? You just have to tell me what you want.” His words are so taunting that it burns you with embarrassment. The need for that orgasm hangs on every nerve ending of your body, and you could cry just out of the need to come.

“Please,” you whisper in a tone broken from constant moans and cries.

“Be more specific.” It’s so cruel. He dangles the promise of pleasure before your eyes again, this time nipping ever so gently at your bud, and you really do cry this time, fingers digging harshly on his scalp. That draws a prolonged growl from his lips, and it reverberates against you so nicely that you could come from that. Hongjoong pulls his head back too soon though and the sensation is dashed away.

“N-No, no, please. P-Please, Hongjoong, I — please let me come. I need it, I need it so badly. Shit, just – just please let me come,” you wail as tears slip out the corners of your eyes and spill onto the sheets under you. That’s the breaking point for him as well, or so it would seem, because the next time his mouth brushes through your cunt, he doesn’t relent. You come undone on his tongue, riding out the waves of your intense orgasm as he fucks his wet muscle into your heat. He won’t stop chuckling either — a low noise that just prolongs the pleasure and makes you quiver from overstimulation. He doesn’t let up until a dry and choked sob pushes past your lips.

Suddenly he is back up on the bed, bent over your body to be eye to eye with you. His fingers trace over your wet cheeks then clasp hard around your jaw.

“Too much?”

“N-No,” you stammer through the wet cries. “So good. So so good.”

“Mm, can you take my cock too, doll?” He all but purrs the words against your skin. His soft and trailing kisses return to your skin, peppering the line of your jaw just past his fingers.

“Yes, please, I c-can. Please. I want i-it all.” You never thought you could sound so overwhelmingly desperate, but the tumbling sensation that swerves through your stomach as Hongjoong’s demeanor shifts has you falling into absolute shambles. He shifts your position, pushing you up higher to rest against the pillows, and you start to drape your legs around his waist. That must not be the position he had in mind though, because his hand clamps down hard on one of your calves and pushes it to the top of his shoulder. Before you can even blink, he does the same with your other leg, effectively folding you in half and into a position you weren’t even aware that your body was capable of. That shock is momentary as you feel the tip of what must his cock rubbing over your pulsating hole. You can’t do anything but ball your fists around the sheets under you and cling to them like a vice. It’s the only thing that can prepare you for his girth; the stretch may not be as much as you thought it would be, but it still stings like a bitch even after he bottoms out in you. That pain must be showing on your features – in the way your brows are tightly knit together and your eyes are screwed shut so that excess tears from earlier slip out.

The soft caress of lips touches your forehead. It’s so gentle and delicate that you nearly miss it in your efforts to grow used to the sensation between your legs, but Hongjoong repeats it time and time again until your breathing steadies and your chest stops heaving as much. It’s only then that he dares to resituate his hips. You crack an eye open to look at him, and it’s abundantly clear that he’s trying his hardest to hold back and keep from fucking into you with reckless abandon.

“I’m okay now,” you whisper, pulling a hand off the bedsheets to brush some loose strands of hair out of Hongjoong’s vision. “Please fuck me as hard as you’d like.” You snake the same hand around the back of his neck. When he still doesn’t move, you offer a sharp tug to the hair that falls over his sweat-slick nape, and that spurs him into action. His hips snap roughly against yours, pushing your back further into the crude curve it’s already in. Now that the dull throbbing pain has dissolved into a sensation of pleasure, you drown yourself in the drag of his member inside you. It’s quite possibly the best feeling you’ve had all night with the way his tip rubs over your bundle of nerves at just the right angle.

Hongjoong drops his elbows to the pillow under your head, and you greet him with a kiss that is mostly just an awkward clash of teeth for the most part. He gains enough composure to shift the angle to one that’s easier for both of you, hips still working hard as he rocks into you with the same force and speed as before. You are so lost in the euphoria that you can’t even feel your next orgasm sneaking up on you, but when it does, it pulls a noiseless scream from your lips. Hongjoong mouths at the corner of your lips as you ride it out. He still seems far off from his own high, even as he slows the pulses of his thrusts. You claw your way back from the high of your orgasm to grip his hair tighter and pull him closer to you.

“In me. I need you to come in me or not at all,” you demand through a huffed out sigh. It’s a moment of throwing caution to the wind, one that is quite worth it thanks to the expression of hunger and lust that fills Hongjoong’s face.

“You can’t just say things like that, doll,” he growls into the shell of your ear. You try to laugh but he interrupts you with a thrust harsher than any of the ones before. Every sound that falls from your lips now is stuttered and broken at the seams, and you let him fuck you with that same level of passion until he finally seems to tire and lose his rhythm. The only warning you have that he’s about to orgasm is the slight whine to his tone when he moans next. You push what strength you have left into clenching hard around his cock, and that is ultimately what tips him over the edge and pulls a delightful moan from his lips as he spills into your tight heat. He releases his hold on your legs, letting them slip away from his shoulders and back into a more comfortable position on the bed, but he refuses to move off your body.

You aren’t sure how long the two of you stay like that: with Hongjoong continually mouthing small kisses to the underside of your jaw and you just staring blankly at the glittering ceiling with a mind nearly empty. However much time passes doesn’t quite matter because once you recover your senses enough to be coherent again, you recall what is supposed to come next. Shaky hands find their way to Hongjoong’s arms and trail up to rest atop his back.

“Take it all away,” you exhale through a pant, hands clinging desperately to the milky skin of Hongjoong’s shoulders. “I don’t want to remember him anymore.” His chest heaves against yours, and a few loose strands of dark hair fall forward to stick to his sweat-slick forehead. This time when he kisses you, it is hot and searing, a brand against your lips, one that burns the inside of your mouth and sets your tongue alight. The sensation slips down the back of your throat, fills your gut, burns you from the inside out, and all your thoughts go hazy under the touch of his lips. With that one kiss, Hongjoong takes it all away. He gives into your desires, heeds your wishes, and grants you the ultimate peace and serenity you so deeply craved. He continues to cling to you like he’s never held something so desperately or lost in his infinite existence. You return the embrace in full while you can, strength already leaving you in the afterglow of your fornication, and you rake your nails down over his back if only to leave him with some sort of trophy to leave with. He is already leaving with your memories though, a trophy to hold close to his heart should there ever be a time when you ask for them to be returned to you. Perhaps in your afterlife, you’ll ask for them back, and Hongjoong would gladly give them should it be what you desire.

That is what he is, after all. As much as he takes, the Demon King of the Underworld gives in return, where he can with what he can. His duty, his bond, the sole purpose for his existence is to maintain that balance between giving and taking. But if it’s for you — a creature so lost, dismal, and hopeless — perhaps he can tip the scales a bit further in your direction.

At least, that’s what he thinks as you curve your body into his and press your lips with more fervor than before. That maybe, just maybe, endless years of his own hopelessness and confusion were all meant to lead him to finding this: a purpose in his undying life.

﹎﹎﹎

#atzinc #kdiarynet #kwritersworldnet #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #hongjoong smut #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong angst #hongjoong imagine #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong oneshot #hongjoong scenarios

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imagine-loki · 3 years

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Can you Keep A Secret

TITLE: Can you keep it a secret? CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 3 of 4

AUTHOR: ValarieRavenhearst2 ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine working with Loki in some way but you keep your distance because you have a massive crush on him and you tend to always embarrass yourself. Alas you find yourself in need of his help as you need his magic and he’s the only one for the job.

All the incubators in the lab make it feel like a sauna today, with so many new species needing direct heat, we’ve had to give them their own room. All my specimens look healthy and well after yesterdays’ sampling and I record their status on my iPad. After working by myself for half an hour I make the easy decision to take my jumper off before I start to sweat. As I start to wiggle out of it by easing it over my head, my shirt begins to rise with it and I make that awkward wiggle to try and magically make my shirt fall down without putting my arms back down. Whilst in the midst of my struggle I can hear the keypad being used to unlock the lab door and instinctively I throw myself to my knees to hide as my shirt has risen over my bra. Instant regret. I quickly correct myself on the ground as I hear Dr Banner and another botanist talking idly. The side of my abdomen stings viciously in warning as the material of my shirt goes back over it. I quickly flip it up again to inspect a small scratch now etched over my ribs, ending just under my bra. I hiss quietly in annoyance at my own stupidity as I stand calmly to inspect what I could have scratched myself on. Dr Banner greets me in surprise, obviously questioning what I am doing on the ground.

“Good morning.” I give them both a greeting smile, “I just dropped my jumper.” I wave it at them as proof and they go back to their conversation whilst I look at the plant specimens in front of me. This odd, black looking orchidaceous plant looks awfully ominous with its long bristly thorns of an olive green hue. It must have been the culprit as none of its neighbours have any type of protruding bristles. With a slight panic spiking in my veins I try to examine it’s ID card but it’s information is mostly blank as it hasn’t begun rigours testing yet. Shit! What if it’s poisonous. Surely it would be in a covered incubator if it was known to be poisonous and over in lab 2 with the others. I try not to act concerned as I question if the other two know anything about it and the other botanist, Swanson? I think. Says that the whole table is due for testing today by his team. I just nod in acknowledgment and calmly exit the lab. I mean, I feel okay, right? I don’t feel faint and or woozy. I canter off to the bathroom after throwing my jumper over my chair; I quickly raise my shirt again in the mirror to get a better look. It’s not that bad … I suppose. The thin red slice is only about six centimetres long and it doesn’t look like there’s anything caught in the wound. Honestly, what an idiot. I can’t believe I was so reckless. If bloody Branson found out he’d have my head and he’d carry on for eternity how right he was about me. Oh the ridicule! He’d have me on desk duty till he dies. No one can know! I’m breaking every safety protocol we have but if I am to die from it so be it. I’d rather die quietly than admit my fault to that grumpy old git. After a quick rendezvous with the first-aid box I should be fine. I’ll just have to spy on the other team later to see if they come with anything concerning on the evil looking sucker. Ugh! I can’t believe I just did that. As I exit the bathroom mumbling curses at myself, adjusting my skin tight black turtleneck, a wisp of black enters my peripheral and I know that the god of mischief has returned to the floor. His eyes find me as I cross the open bullpen to my desk and I let go of the hem of my shirt and make an effort to make the concern vanish from my face. Draped in a navy Asgardian attire, he is what my high school best friend would call a snack. I briefly notice accents of gold and olive lining the leather but I am quick to advert my eyes and look busy. I suppose he would be a nice distraction from the sting in my side but I needn’t the extra embarrassment on top of my slightly spiked anxiety. I can hear Branson’s old decrepit voice engaging with that sultry sirens call as they wander by my desk but I make myself continue typing on my computer as if my life depends on it. As soon as he’s passed me I can smell his cologne lingering to tease me. Do Asgardians even wear cologne or is that just him? I shake my head, determined not to let my thoughts distract me. As I continue to work at my desk for the day, every time I stretch and move around I check on the other team working in the lab and notice that pointy little sucker is still out in the open so my panic levels have been low and every time I go to the bathroom I check my side; gently peeling off the large non stick plaster to inspect the fading mark. The redness has reduced so much that I have to strain myself to notice the mark. I steal glances with the God of Mischief throughout the day as he wanders from station to station. I smile politely whenever our eyes meet and always breakaway first to continue working, which I notice earns me a sly grin after the fifth time. See, I knew that tricky bugger was up to something. I just know he purposefully loves to get under my skin. But I am not giving him the satisfaction of watching me blush today. Two can play at that game. Danny surprises me at lunch by bringing me a latte and childish teasing. He sits on the edge of my desk and immediately notices Loki working in the adjacent Lab in clear view of my desk. Trying to be noticeably subtle he continuously taps my shoulder whilst cooing in excitement like a giddy school girl. I shush him and punch him hard in the leg whilst acting like his antics haven’t phased me. I’ve been doing an amazing job of ignoring his presence all morning, he is not going to trick me into actively swooning now.

“Oh he looking.” Danny murmurs whilst turning his head away, tapping my shoulder again.

“Shut up!” I mutter back as I briefly glare at him in warning before retuning my attention to my computer screen.

“Girl he’s definitely checking you out.” He rearranges himself as he opts for standing behind me and leaning over me like he’s studying what I’m doing.

“I’m going to kill you.” I swivel in my chair so that I’m facing away from the Lab. “You’re such a trouble maker.” I hiss and jokingly shove him so not to make a big scene. “Don’t you have work of your own to do?” I question as I make an excuse to walk out of sight by taking my drink bottle to fill it up. Danny follows, chuckling evilly to himself.

“Yeah but this is more fun.” I threaten to throw water on him. “But seriously, he’s definitely watching you.” I could feel it! But I ain’t playing into Danny’s game.

“Yeah right,” I scoff as I begin back to my desk with Danny in tow, “what for? A good laugh if I stumble?” I take my seat but swivel so I’m facing Danny and away from Loki.

“Well no ‘cause I don’t think he’s ever laughed when you’ve embarrassed yourself.” Danny leans against the empty desk adjacent to mine and I gasp at him with forced hurtfulness.

“Are you saying I’m not funny?” I question mockingly and his face grimaces fiercely as he shrugs in agreement.

“Well, either he’s attracted to you or just pities you.” He deduces with his great sleuthing skills. “Which would you prefer?” I scowl so hard at him that he might burst into flames yet his shiteating grin is till carved into his face. I don’t answer, not diving into this ridiculous conversation (not to mention unsafe when he’s so close). With a steady, yet annoyed breath, I exhale loudly before turning back to my computer and turn my concentration up to a hundred and ten percent to block out Loki’s alluring figure in my peripherals.

“I have work to do and if you’ve only come to tease me you can piss off.” I purse my lips together in my best passive resting bitch face before flipping him off. Honestly what an arse – breaking basic friend 101 rules. Don’t joke about the crush in front of the crush.

“So touchy today.” He laughs and kisses me on the cheek before stepping around my desk before I can clock him one. “I’ll see you later.” He teases before leaving and I can feel myself being watched and it is so tempting to look to where that burning urge is coming from but I just know if I make eye contact I’ll blush several noticeable shades. I’ll remain strong, purely out of spite. I finish all my paper work earlier than expected and manage to send off all my reports just has mid afternoon rolls around. Spite is a good focuser. As I’m scanning through my emails to see if I need to reply to any I get a page from Clint to say that he’s on his way up to check out his new arrow heads. I beam excitedly in remembrance, jumping up from my desk and heading over to Lab 2, where I had been storing them in the cool room at the back of the lab. I had been experimenting and developing new knockout gasses and combustibles and I thought adapting them to Clint’s arrow heads would be a more challenging task then the standard grenades. Thus far the little project has been a success, they just haven’t had any field time yet. I notice Loki watching me through his lashes as I swipe into the lab and punch in the code. We’ve already exchanged pleasantries for the day so there’s no need for me to make any form of acknowledgment as I enter. As I enter through the double doors he straightens himself, most likely in expectance that I had entered to speak with him since it’s only he and another botanist in the Lab. But I just walk straight through without a glance which gives me such a surge of power, knowing how much confusion I was causing him even though his poker face is exceptional. After punching in the security code on the fridge I gently pull out the draw with the arrow tips and remove the tray, taking it with me. I have to make eye contact on my way back since focusing straight ahead would be too obvious and the key is subtlety here if I want to be one up on his intimidating behaviour. My lips curve pleasantly at him but I don’t say anything as I head back to the door. Clint is already at my desk and is glancing around for me. He waves happily when he sees me and opens the door for me so I don’t have to.

“Hey,” he smiles at me and I pass him the tray, “you sure these work?” He questions mockingly.

“Have I ever failed you before?” I coyly quirk my brows in rebuke.

“Want to test them with me?” He nods his head at the door for me to follow him and I do with a skip in my step. I did archery as a child but I got nothing on him. I take my time to relish in the fact that Loki hasn’t taken his eyes off me as I exit through the corridor and I even dare a cheeky, subtly seductive glance over my shoulder just to make sure. Oh it feels good to be bad .. no wonder he loves it.

#Loki #others #submission #submitted fic #ValarieRavenhearst2 #can you keep a secret #chapter 3

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rafivadafreddy · 3 years

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Kissing Secrets

A fivr part story about our favorite ADA Rafael Barba and his FBI gf.

Summary: What happens when the SVU squad meets Rafaels’ girlfriend, but under not so great circumstances?

Word Count: 2,373 Warnings: Cursing, angry couple, Spanish, angst, talk of rape and drug case.

Dating never came easy to Rafael Barba. But when he found someone with a job as hectic as him. It was perfect. Neither expected much from the other, when one had to cancel the other would understand.

Of course, Y/N would be more than understanding. She had two bachelor degrees under her belt and after long days and nights with the 20 weeks of New Agent Training with the FBI at Quantico. She, just like Rafael, worked hard to get where she was. Trying to make a name for herself. Starting at twenty-five and becoming a special agent before her twentieth eight birthday, Y/N knew she would make it.

Y/N and Rafael met when she was looking for a job, needing to complete two years of work experience to become a special agent. Working as a rookie cop in a district in Brooklyn. Well, one night an angry cuban man walks into the precinct. His fancy three piece suit was a mess and he claims he was assaulted. Knife wound to his arm, Y/N was the cop to take care of him.

One thing led to another, Rafael left the precinct with a smile. Having left his number behind for the cop. To ‘call’ if she had any questions about his assault. Of course, Y/N was able to find the guy who assaulted the ADA and was able to get his phone back from the man.

Almost three years passed and they were still happy with the other. Dinners, nights in and a couple who were in love with the other. Y/N met his mother and his abuelita, things were perfect. So, when Y/N graduated, celebrating the fact that she made it through the FBI academy. Thankfully, Y/N was able to stay at the federal bureau of investigation in New York City.

»---------------------►

A few months into her new job, Y/N felt as if she was on a high. It was her biggest case yet and it was hers… well, her’s along with her partner, Agent Shawn Carter. Having been staying overtime the past month, getting together evidence and witnesses to take down an organized sex trafficing crime involving a drug lord that’s on their most wanted list, Y/N wasn’t about to let anything get in the way of her bringing every last one of them down. Especially when the last victim she was notified of was a thirteen year old.

“Hola mi amor…” Y/N smiled at the call of her boyfriend. Rafael had been her rock the past few years as Y/N worked on getting into the FBI.

“Hola mi corazón…” she heard him chuckle into the phone. “Dinner tonight? Think you can make it?”

Glancing at her watch, Y/N thought about it. “I think so yeah. We’re going to pick up a perp right now and if it all works out. I’ll be able to spend all night with you.” She told him and sighed. “I’m sorry for being super busy lately.”

“Hey, none of that. I understand. It 's your job. My girlfriend, the badass FBI agent.” the two laughed and Y/N smiled.

“My boyfriend, the hot shot ADA. I’ll get out early to have dinner with you. No matter what, you’ll come first tonight.” She told him, noticing they were nearing Manhattan.

“Now, now… You know you always come first when we’re together.” Y/N could hear the smirk as he spoke and she just laughed.

Saying goodbye with many ‘i love you’s’ Y/N put her phone away and sighed, the smile feeling permanent on her lips.

Ten minutes later, the black car pulled up outside the Special Victims Unit of the 16th precinct. Both Y/N and Shawn looked at one another before nodding. It wasn’t going to be fair and it wasn’t like they knew. But the SVU team had picked up a perp they had been watching and started an investigation on him. Something Y/N couldn’t let happen. No this was her case.

Walking into the building and getting directions to the SVU floor, Y/N walked with her head held high. The skinny jeans she wore, along with the blue button down shirt. She made sure to have her badge clipped to her pants. Gun in its holder and ID already out in her hand.

“Can I help you, agent?” a woman asked, making Y/N turn to look at a blonde who walked over. That caught the other detectives attention.

They were already wondering why the FBI was there.

“As a matter of fact you can. I’m special agent Y/N L/N and this is my partner, Agent Shawn Carter. I’m afraid I’m here to collect the perp you have in custody along with everything you have against him.” she told the women, except her eyes were on a brunette woman. Whom Y/N knew was in charge. She did her research before storming into the precinct this way.

“Why should we do that? This is our case, don’t see why the Feds want a low life like him.” another detective spoke up and Y/N looked over at him. From his voice and stance, it was obvious he was angry.

“Calm down, Amaro.” the brunette finally spoke up. “Olivia Benson.” she introduced herself and Y/N shook her hand. “Now, you say you need this guy. Why? From what we’ve gathered, he’s just a scum who likes underage girls.”

With a sigh, Y/N nodded. But she didn’t say anything when a familiar voice spoke up. “What’s going on here?”

“Ah! Barba, you’re going to love this.” The Amaro fellow looked amused. “The FBI is here to take our case.”

“Oh yeah? On what grounds?” Barba asked.

“On the grounds that he’s a suspect in an ongoing Federal case.” Y/N said, turning to look at the man she just told she loved, not even half an hour ago. “Miguel Hernández raped and murdered a thirteen year old girl three days ago. And I know you guys picked him up cause he was caught in the act of raping another victim. Now imagine my surprise when I found out that SVU caught him. Even though notice went out to contact the FBI if Mr. Hernández is picked up by officers or detectives of New York.” she spoke, informing all of them, even though her eyes stayed on Rafael.

“He also has information about Lorenzo Torsney.” Shawn spoke up for the first time.

“Wait, Torsney, the guy linked to the sex trafficking ring with the underage girls? The same Lorenzo who’s rumored to be the new Drug lord of New York?” some guy spoke up, his thick accent catching Y/Ns attention.

“That’s the one.” Both agents spoke at the same time. “So, Lieutenant. The case files and Miguel if you please.” Shawn said and followed Bensen into her office to grab the paperwork to make the transfer.

Y/N on the other hand went to look at the window that showed into the interrogation room. Hearing footsteps, Y/N smiled at the male and nodded to the detective seeing the coffee he got her. “Thanks…”

“Ah, Dominick Carisi, Jr. but everyone calls me Sonny.” the thick accent said and Y/N raised an eyebrow.

“I get the feeling, no one calls you, Sonny… Sonny.” she smirked and looked at Miguel again.

Thankfully he got quiet after that. Though what Y/N failed to notice was Rafael standing in the doorway. “Excuse us, Carisi.” he said, in his ‘this is my mad, but trying to stay professional” voice.

Sonny couldn't get out of the room faster, not that Y/N blamed him. She would have ran as well.

"You couldn't have told me on the phone that you were coming to pick up the guy from my case?" Rafael whispered, looking real mad.

Yet, Y/N just rolled her eyes. "Tu caso? Last I heard, you were still working in fucking Brooklyn! Que diablos, Rafael!" She hissed at her boyfriend. "You changed fucking districts and never told me?"

"Oh, that's rich. Coming from the one always canceling our dates!"

"¡Vete a la mierda!" Y/N narrowed her eyes. "Who canceled the last THREE dinners? Wasn't me, that's for fucking sure." She scoffed and pushed past him.

"Real professional Detectives.." Y/N rolled her eyes at the SVU team all scrambling back to their desks. Pretending like they wern’t eavesdropping on Y/N and Rafael.

"Y/N, vuelve aquí, ahora."

Only, Y/N ignored him. Pulling out her phone, she had to put in a call for another agent to come out to the district and collect Miguel. All while ignoring Rafael. Who was trying to glare her into submission.

'Good luck, papi. Not gonna work now.' Y/N thought and looked away from the detectives. Answering emails and texts on her phone. Already getting a location of where Shawn and her needed to go after leaving SVU.

»»---------------------►

As Miguel was getting put into cuffs, both around his wrists and ankles. Y/N watched, making sure nothing would go wrong. Turning to the detectives, she gave them a sad smile.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t let you guys have this case.” she told them, sounding sincere. “If he wasn’t important to catching Torsney, I would have let you keep the case.” she added, thanking Shawn as he handed Y/N her FBI jacket.

Hearing two different scoffs, but from two cuben men. Y/N rolled her eyes and shook Olivia’s hand. “It’s fine, at least you’re getting him off the streets… and something tells me, you interrogating him will make what we did look like preschoolers.” she smirked and Y/N shrugged.

“Let’s just say, the cameras are not on all the time.” Shawn spoke up and Y/N shook her head.

“Yes they are, thank you for giving me a heads up to watch all the interrogations you do from now on.” she narrowed her eyes and told him to go wait in the car. Saying goodbye, Y/N turned and made her way out.

Getting into the car, Y/N rubbed a hand over her face and told Shawn they were needed over in the Bronx.

“So… that was your boyfriend. Huh?” the male next to her spoke up after a few minutes of silence in the car.

Of course, with her telling him to shut up the car ride continued on quietly.

Hearing her phone let out a ping Y/N grabbed it and read the text from Rafael.

Papi: So, I guess we need to talk later.

Y/N: Yeah, I’ll tell you when I get off. Don’t know when that’ll be. There was a bomb over in the South Bronx. Was put on the case to deal with it.

Keeping the reply simple. Wanting Rafael to know she was mad at him. Not even replying to his ‘stay safe’ and not cause she didn’t want to. But because they had arrived and the scene they saw. It was a complete mess.

News crews were filming everything happening, people being put into ambulances and being taken care of.

“OK! What do we know?” Y/N asked, tying her H/C hair up into a ponytail.

As they were getting information, Y/N looked around. Not knowing cameras were pointed towards both her and her partner.

Turning to the officer telling them what had happened, Y/N frowned. “What time was the explosion? Exactly.” she asked and Y/N felt like she paled when being told it had been Nine minutes.

“We need every emergency vehicle headed here stopped outside the perimeter, and evacuate the building.” she commanded and stopped when the Battalion Chief spoke up.

“I got half a dozen guys inside checking structural damage, twice that many going door-to-door --”

Y/N just cut him off. “Have them grab anyone they see, and get out. Now.” her confidence leaves no doubt and the man nods. Talking to everyone he can and getting as many people out as possible.

With Shawn helping out on the other side, also helping people move away from the building the explosion went off in. It left Y/N to run after a woman who was running towards the apartment building. Crying about how she wanted her son's body

Y/N was able to get her away, but when the second explosion hit, both her and the woman were flown forward. Y/N being knocked out.

Rafaels’ POV:

He was getting shit for not saying anything to the team about his FBI girlfriend. Not like he knew if they were even going to be that later on when they talk. But still, he sat there and let them poke and joke around. The team had gotten takeout and were relaxing since there were no other cases. Rafael deciding to join them (not like they gave him much of a choice in the matter)

“Hey, Barba… didn’t you say Y/N was out in the South Bronx?” Rollins asked, causing Rafael to turn away from Liv and look at the blonde detective.

Moving his head to see what she was looking at, Rafael felt a chill in his stomach as he watched the News on the TV. They were covering the story of what was happening.

The team were all quiet listening to the man speak, the camera moving to where Y/N stood with her partner. Rafael watched as she took charge of the situation, he felt proud of her. But he had a nagging feeling, seeing everyone move quickly at whatever command she gave.

“By the looks, Agent Y/N L/N of the FBI gave orders to evacuate the building. Will there be another explosion, how does she know to get everyone out of the building? Whatever it is, everyone seems to be listening….” but Rafael turned the man's voice out.

In the background he could see Y/N running towards the woman and he shot up out of his seat when the second explosion happened. Cutting short the camera. No one was moving or saying anything as they just watched Rafael, who looked on the verge of a panic attack.

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart

#rafael barba #Raul Esparza #Raúl Esparza #rafael barba fanfiction #rafael barba fanfic #rafael barba fic #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba x female reader #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x oc #rafael barba x fbi reader #law and order svu #svu

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worldsover · 3 years

Text

Judgement to the Desiccated ft. Karina

length ✦ 5573

genres ✧ sm type future; asphyxiation; blackmail; virtual_servant!Karina;

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Air did a poor job of not being polluted so Lee Soo Man flooded the world instead. The man himself certainly must be long gone and could not have been in charge of that decision but the legacy of his company far exceeds the legacy of any other human collective in history. Once on this planet, gas was the fluid of choice for respiration and breathing was an unconscious reflex. Now there’s Aether by SM. How very on-brand of them to have the liquid air you breathe follow perfume naming conventions.

Open your eyes and exit the sleeping chamber. Aether has you work for each inhalation, it desaturates the color of the bedroom—maybe there’s a subtle but uncomfortable tinge of yellow—and it makes your nose itch. Your muscles wield much less force than they used to because of the lack of resistance the fluid provides. Moreover, it smells like hairspray as though the ozone layer is taking sardonic revenge.

Screens impersonating windows track your eyes to ensure realistic parallax, playing the scene of divine blue heavens that could not exist. An azure sky is a reward for those planets that have an atmosphere and a sun for light to scatter. Your walls are either chrome or drywall white and your whole bedroom is plainly decorated just like the day you moved in.

“Etymology of bedroom,” you think out loud, though it falls on no ears.

“Bedroom is a compound noun consisting of bed and room. Bed goes back to Old English bedd ‘sleeping place, plot of ground prepared for plants,’ which goes back to the Germanic-”

Plants and sleep are both strong words to use nowadays. The former doesn’t exist in nature and it seems you’re the only one who bothers with the latter. Faint buzzing distracts you from the AI’s response and signals you to the nano drones that swim throughout the liquid to process carbon dioxide from your lungs. This whole ordeal could’ve been much worse if you didn’t have brain interfaces doing the hard part of controlling your diaphragm. The most you need is a purposeful thought. Still, it gets tiring having to think the same thought every three seconds. In. Out.

Was the metaphorical Soo Man teaching a lesson in perseverance? You love K-pop and imagine it’s how trainees used to practice dancing, singing, being charismatic. Being an idol had to be as natural as breathing air. Inhale and exhale. Right now with any antiquated programming language you clung on to, you could write a single for loop that did the same job. For every three seconds: breathe in, breathe out.

“What’s for breakfast today?” Not loud enough. “What’s for breakfast?” you think it louder.

“Welcome, master. Ae-Karina is ready for service.” It’s quite a kindness for SM to blur the bland dystopia you live in by augmenting reality through your neural device. A bosomy woman in a gold-lined but otherwise modest maid outfit appears from the corner of your eye and she bows. Ae-Karina is bewitching and almost becoming of her basis as its graphics have gradually upgraded over the rotations but you wouldn’t misconstrue the avatar as human.

“I said, what’s for breakfast!” It feels impolite to scream in your head, there’s other residents there, but finally the fridge lights up.

“Of course master. May I remind you eating is unnecessary?”

In. Out. Every day, she does remind you, yes. How kind of the company to put all your nutritional requirements in the new air. Aether goes in then Aether goes out. You wish the thoughts of breathing could fade into the background but they’re just like your cravings for food. Always hungry but never starving, whole though not once satisfied. Your eyes pause at her gorgeous face and she tells you there’s bacon. Take it from your fridge. Bacon goes in. Well, the drones take care of the out.

Your assigned living space is the entire 207th floor of a tower. Two hundred and seven floors below the surface. The neighbor a few floors upstairs says that he thinks living deeper is a sign of status. What a luxury. That guy should check the status of his facial muscles, maybe improve his code that lets him tell lies while he’s at it. A couple hundred flights of stairs to swim up is a useless skeuomorphism of skyscrapers in the days of the sun. In fact they were more than useless, you would've preferred a single vertical hallway as it would have let you propel upwards unimpeded. Each floor is the exact same, a glass door that affords no privacy for its residence, a false tree on each side. At the upper levels, malls, convenience stores and other gaudy retail, but it’s the gyms that mock you that you mock in return. They’re always empty.

Finally reaching the top is no true break even if it is a change in scenery. Inhale. Aether tastes a little different up here. Exhale. Can’t say you like it.

Countless satellites form a parody of the star from which the planet flew away, the false image refracted by the upper boundary of Aether. They can’t take away your memories of this star. Looking up at the sky once blinded you with ultraviolet radiation, burning your cornea. It was beautiful. Now everyone’s decided that if they’re playing the part of corporate dystopia, they might as well fit the aesthetic. In a way, it’s self-fulfilling. They wouldn’t have chosen a neon pink sun to compliment the blue and metallic gloom of the cityscape if it weren’t so ingrained in popular media already.

Still, you would’ve expected Google or Walmart to become the megacorp responsible for the state of the world, not a Korean entertainment company. Must’ve been quite the red paperclip scenario. Instead of material design or utilitarian architecture, tacky artistic structures line the streets. The same advertisements for albums that they’ve been selling for the past however long. It's all so obvious, the city could've been designed from scratch to accommodate new forms of travel and goddamn liquid air but instead they went with futuristic Tokyo.

Dubstep permeates your inner ear implants. A notification informs your thoughts that it’s “Hip-hop EDM dance pop with a strong jungle house groove and urban influences.” It’s dubstep. Liquid carries barely any sound so SM affords the option for implants if you're nostalgic for one of the senses. Even though it’s a slower form of communication than direct neural transfer, the noise comforts you. Of course the company would choose dubstep as their background music, but maybe they make money off refunds somehow. It switches to Ice Cream Cake. Much better.

You walk the not so busy roads towards a short brick warehouse in the distance and heavy rain soaks your clothes. No such thing as weather without the sun and water but it’s all simulated anyway.

A warm Seulgi adlib and you know it’s Psycho that starts playing. No, none of your senses are real. The most you could trust is your vision but even that’s being lied to. You could be living in a vat and fed all these thoughts, but then why make it so mediocre? Not paradise, nor torture but a lukewarm in-between. Guess that's what happens when SM Entertainment manages the post-apocalypse. Good on them for trying. The alternative would be a frozen hellscape without solar radiation. Can’t deny their work with geothermal and nuclear energy to keep the Aether warm so that you didn’t have to live underground for the rest of human history. It’s quite great PR to save humanity.

“Hey now, we’ll be okay,” repeats a few more times than you remember.

The Idea Factory Alpha White Delta Green says the neon tubes lighting the front of the brick and mortar building. Your ID card bears a name but it’s not yours, not until they approve your name change. Those usually get processed faster with how often people liked changing their names.

Sit at a desk with a sterile white keyboard and slick new monitor. Type and empty words appear on the screen: “Think for the many, not for the one. We need to think ahead.” A thumbs up. The company appreciates the input. That’s probably enough work for one day. Some SNSD live stages help the time pass, SM certainly appreciated the streaming numbers and it would net you some social points.

It’s hard to say what comes to mind when they ask you to envision a world without the sun and air, especially since it’s what you’ve known for... Two hundred years? There’s no frame of reference, that much you can tell from when you counted seconds to see how often the satellites completed their orbit. SM really took time to have them propel at random speeds, they love withholding sensitive information like that from citizens. To be fair, time is sensitive. Guess the meaning of that phrase changes like all parts of language.

Look around. Dozens of employees at identical workspaces all try to answer the same questions. Naturally, there’s no need for manual labor anymore but there will never be a replacement for human ingenuity. Nice slogan but you know you’re only here for data. Can’t see a need for customer retention though—what’s the alternative, skip Earth? See you on another planet?

“Hey bro, you come up with anything new?” Dave says. Two desks away, you see the enthusiastic, surprisingly spry man play around with a Newton’s cradle. The balls at each end bounce back and forth, not slowing down their rhythm any time soon.

“I think I got something,” you say, “Earth is not the answer. It can’t be, long term.”

“Ooh, I like that. Actually, I really like that.”

“What are you gonna do, copy me?”

“Of course not. You know how much SM hates plagiarism.” Click. Clack.

“Ha. As if there’s a single original thought left in the world.” Click. Clack. The imaginary sounds of metal spheres bouncing play in your mind. They got the volume wrong, no way it’d sound that loud from that distance. “You’d think with all their resources, they’d have figured out space travel by now.”

“I don’t think they want to leave, bro. Wouldn’t be great for profits.”

Your mouth opens to laugh and causes laugh8942.mp3 to play in Dave’s head. “I love it. SM probably hates that sass too,” you say.

“Oh no, they’re gonna arrest me for thoughtcrimes. Nah, they love creativity, just when it suits them. Also, if they actually did bust you for wrongthink like rumors say, I wouldn’t have this on me.” Dave twirls a finger and points at you and you thank his absurd flair for the histrionic that keeps you amused with such drab work.

“NewDrug.mp6. Would you like to play it?” the dry system voice notifies you.

“Woah woah there tiger, hold on.” Dave must’ve noticed your intrigued eyes and holds his hands up. “You might wanna experience that at home. But if you’re interested in more, ask for chicken parm at the vegan place. You know the one.”

Dave leaves his desk. He doesn’t return. You finish your work. Inspire. Expire. You’d rather not.

In contrast to your commute to work, the roads fill with others on your way home. You have to know. Take solace in the comfort of a bench where a huge McDonald’s arch bathes the surroundings and its people with a yellow glow. Really shouldn’t watch it now, especially if Dave says it’s a home type of watch but you have to know. A family of five watches you pass out. They, along with every other passerby, ignore your still body draped over the chrome outdoor seating as you look like yet another junkie. The title is correct after a fashion, the simulation is some sort of new drug. The details of the exploits that happen in the immersive replay wash over you but you don’t need them to know that it’s the sort of lewd that SM would not allow—at least not publicly and not without the right exorbitant payment.

Suit pants and underwear go straight to the laundry. That must’ve been an embarrassing sight but no one bothered to stop you, so it doesn’t matter. Look up where this vegan place was that Dave so presumptuously assumed you knew about and you find that it’s about four Avengers’ stores down from work. He must’ve eaten there before.

“Yo Dave, just wanna make sure, what’s the name of the vegan place called?”

“What are you talking about, man? You telling me there’s some secret underground farms that SM wouldn’t know about?”

You can’t tell when you got to work, a lack of standardized timing would help as well the haze of living in a monotonous dark. “Nah, I mean, for the-”

“I have no idea,” Dave emphasizes each word, “what you’re talking about.”

“I see.”

Work flies by, unusually.

“Hey, can I get a chicken-”

“Uh, this is Maron’s Veggies Only, it clearly says on the sign.”

Clear your throat. “Parm.”

The shifty part-time worker looks around and rubs his fingers gesturing for money. “No digital.”

Over the counter, you pass him a gold coin stamped with a holographic 1 and he hands you a USB stick and a laptop in return. How old-fashioned.

“It’ll sync with whoever you have set as your avatar experience aspect,” the worker says.

“Thanks.”

Ever vigilant as the patrol is, the alleys are the last place you want to go to hide with the obvious criminal element within them all but you head to one anyway. Dump the anachronistic technology in your storage pocket dimensions. Looking at its contents, you’d have to clean that mess up later, but the more you look like an average slob the better. The biggest problem with the inventories is all the people squatting in them. Inspectors wouldn’t care about the archaic ruins you left in yours.

“Welcome, master. Ae-Karina is ready to service.”

“I’d like to go on a date. A special date.” You highlight the key word special and sit on your living room couch. No one’s going to look in your glass door and regardless, you wouldn’t be the pervert for glimpsing into someone’s home.

“Ah yes, master. Ae-Karina is ready to fully service,” she says with a provocative tint in her tone, her sclera disperses to black to match. A pole drops from the ceiling while parts of her maid outfit dissolve which reveals more of the silky skin of her thighs, her lissom arms and most importantly her overflowing breasts. Ae-Karina wraps her legs around the pole and spins around, teasing fingers trace curves on her body to harden you. Her dance is precise but sultry regardless. She pulls up her short skirt to flaunt more of her ass beneath white panties and then pulls down to flourish her cleavage, not trapped by a bra. “Are you enjoying your maid’s show?”

“Very much so, yes,” you say.

Half of a smile forms before a glitch occurs and she teleports next to you, fully nude. It doesn’t pull you out of the illusion however. You just stare and drink in the splendor of her created body.

“You’re not going to touch?” Ae-Karina says.

A feel of her tits and you find it softer than pillows you used to rest on. Soft isn’t much of a character that exists anymore when the whole world is engulfed in liquid. No one has beds, especially with the rarity of sleep. Therefore, her mounds are a consummate dedication to the texture as you squeeze and pinch at her cute nipples.

Her maid outfit rematerializes as she straddles you. It provides more friction to your pants as she begins her lap dance. The weight of her body dragging across your legs and clothed erection induces your carnal impulses further. If only you could fuck the virtual idol. You have to make do with the imprint of her pussy lips on your bulge sliding up and down. Breath in. Breath out.

Ae-Karina pulls down your boxers and spits on your erection. It's not real but her hands so slick on your cock and you let reality slip. Real is for the past, you have desires gratified in the present. There is no real person nibbling at your neck but your nerves activate in sexual desire without discernment for truth. No, she doesn't love you, but when the voracious mass of ones and zeroes says it loves its master, you say it back.

"I love you."

ILOVEYOU infected ten million computers in 2000. An explosion. Calibration engaging. It’s 1:21 PM, Sunday, July 18, 2286 and hypothetically the sun would be out in its full rage. At this latitude and longitude, you’re at what was once the epicenter of all—Seoul, where a fountain caused a chain reaction allowing the hopeful remnant of a world to exist. It lasted a surprisingly long time without the sun and without Aether but the dying planet would succumb inevitably to the ever-increasing contamination so SM of all corporations took charge. A different kind of chain reaction occurred when they acquired a restaurant chain that discovered the recipe for liquid air. The law is on its way and prepared to punish you to its full extent.

You reel while your ears ring. An even sexier version of the woman you already fantasized about appears from your peripheral vision in the crater of your floor. A skimpy cop outfit, striated with reflective material that seems to wane black at different angles, outlines Karina’s curves. She has a tool belt with absurd gadgets, such as a knife baton hybrid, a taser combined with a spray bottle and a Tamagotchi. None of this is necessary. They could just immediately arrest you, impose limitations on your devices. Sure, SM cloned people to deal with underpopulation, but why Karina would be the enforcer is a whole nother issue. Maybe the entertainment company loves their irony?

“Halt. You’re under arrest. Any resistance will be penalized according to the combined Terms of Service of all SM and SM associated products.”

Fucked anyway, you figure you might as well go for it. Escape into your inventory and only seconds later you’re forced out. You manage to get what you need regardless.

“Violation of access rights will be charged to your account.”

It’s so obvious but there’s a reason you kept so much gold in physical storage. As you swim away, the sides of your apartment start to bubble. Bubbles? Already, your limbs feel unsteady. Something’s wrong in the Aether.

“This is standard procedure for escaping suspects that are indoors. Again, this is all agreed to under the Terms of Service.”

“When the fuck did I ever click accept to that shit?”

“When you were born in this world and decided you want to stay in it,” Karina says out loud. You hear her say it. Your physical ears process the vibrations in the air that come from her mouth. Gravity thwarts your desperate escape as your limp body floats on the limit between liquid and air. The atrophy of your muscles becomes apparent within the gaseous atmosphere. She watches you sink down as the room drains of all the false air though her eyebrows crease when she inspects you closer. Your breaths are involuntary. Despite your muscles shorting out, the force of gravity and the pressure of the gas bearing down on you, you’re breathing and you don’t mean to. Her eyes wander farther down. On your pants, a concrete rod stamps the fabric.

“Oh, you like what you see?”

“Shut up, criminal. Anything you say can and will be used against you.”

“Your pussy,” you say and she scoffs.

“Original.” Karina bites her lip as your erection continues to grow behind its prison. You use all effort to put your hands up.

“Please, miss Karina. I’ve been bad.”

“I could punish you even more for sexual assault.”

“Then do it.”

Heat radiates the room in a way you haven’t felt in a while and droplets of sweat form on each of your bodies, especially on the thighs that her revealing outfit parades. Her facial features contort in deliberation and the wait kills you. You bat your eyes at her before Karina takes off her tight shorts and drops herself into your anticipatory face. This makes no sense but none of this life made any sense so you decide to go with the tides.

Centuries of training your respiration has led to this moment, but when you finally have real air to breathe, you spit at the opportunity and choose to suffocate. Then you spit at her pussy and lap it up. Karina’s nectar transfixes your olfactory glands, for once a smell that isn’t the sterile Aether. Your eyes are mesmerized in parallel because of the perfect design of her pussy, a single crease that leads into her hole that your tongue emphatically explores. Karina spreads her thighs wide to reveal a small nub that craves attention. So give it. Suck and swirl and flick your tongue, and the woman provides you the tight clench of her legs as a gift. And the sounds, rediscovered glorious noise. Loud, almost too loud, and clear is how they assault your ears, even surrounded by the flesh of her thighs. Muffled by the weight of her legs, you hear Karina moan in approval but she’s still clearly in charge with how she chokes you with her legs. This is not about your pleasure but hers, and any satisfaction that you derive is not only incidental but probably punishable by SM copyright law.

Karina squirms her hips subtly on your mouth. Her eyes are sharp and she’s just about to stop your hands from moving but she notices them clasp together.

“I’ll do anything to make you cum, please.” you say sloppily as her pussy juices fill your cheeks and drip down your chin.

“God. I can’t.” She takes deep, contemplative breaths. ”That’s more time added on for inappropriate behavior.” Her groaning and brief squeals make her words sound incogent.

You give her a concluding lick and a kiss on her slit. “So what have you been doing right now then?”

Point to a corner of the room and a subtle red light indicates a recording camera. At once, she pulls out a hose from a pocket that could not fit it and the vacuum submerges the room with noise. Her expression shifts quickly to serious.

“We don’t play games here in SMTOWN unless it’s SuperStar so don’t fuck with me.”

“Look who's trying to be a comedian. How about you fuck with me any further and the video gets released.”

“That’s funny, you think you have any sort of power-”

“Yoo Jimin, I suggest you don’t push me more.”

“Where do you know that name from? Right now.” She weighs herself down on your neck.

“You think I don’t have contingencies for if I die too? Karina, we can make this a win-win scenario. We both get to cum, we both get to walk away unscathed.”

“Fuck you.”

Your weak arms wander between her thighs. At any moment, a feeble punch towards your face or another ten seconds of asphyxiation and she could call your bluff. Even if you did have the ability to expose her perversions in any way, there would be no permanent recourse, not as long SM was in charge. So it surprises you when Karina takes off her shorts.

“Goddammit. Your cock just looks too good. And your mouth, how are you so good with it?” Put up five fingers when she motions to remove her top as well, and instead she opts to take off your clothes, seizing your pants and throwing them to join the rubble in the room.

A finger slips in, then two and a third dares. Her flawlessly architected pussy lips clings to your digits and Karina shudders in reply. You explore her wetness and find it’s smooth to the point of having no faults, but her juice inside is gloppy and causes your fingers to stick more than the liquids she spills from her slit.

“Who said you’re allowed to have more?”

You lap up the nectar on your fingers. “Then why’d they make you taste so good?”

Your thumb teases her sweet tight asshole and puts just the slightest amount of pressure on it while you finger her with more intensity. The mass of her butt burdens your torso the closer she gets to orgasm. Her eyelids squeeze close and you see her body ripple in anxious pleasure. Karina shows off her pearly whites, teetering on the cliff of hysteria.

“Yes, yes! I’m so close,” she screams.

"Not yet."

“Fuck." Karina sobs, "God. Damn, fuck I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Just fuck me.”

“My pleasure,” you say. There’s no need for you to grab her since she brings herself down to your groin, which you’re thankful for as your arms are as good as jelly now. Fortunately, your cock throbs as hard as ever while Karina’s slit rests on it.

“Say you’ll delete it all, all the evidence, promise me.”

“You’re gonna fuck me first or what?” Your breath hitches while she makes a strangled noise as her velvety walls swallow your cock whole to leave no room for comfort. Her tightness is stifling and you have to start counting just to breathe again.

“One two-”

“Be quiet.”

But there is no quiet when pleas for your cooperation intersperse her excessive profanities when she seats herself into your cock and ricochets up and down. Sweat emanates from her creamy skin while her legs widen to find a better angle for her supporting knees in her cowgirl position. Grapefruit and other citrus mingle with the scent of the sweat, fruits you haven’t seen except on billboards in music videos. As much as your mind crackles and your blood roars for every atmosphere of pressure Karina’s walls provide on each thrust in and out, you can’t help but reminisce on sweeter, more innocent times.

The white fluorescent lights in your apartment sputter. For all the advancements in technology, some among many things never change. Light refracts differently in air, less bright, but you can see the pure enjoyment on Karina’s face no matter the luminescence. Karina slows her ride to pull her hips down harder instead and she jolts when your cock finds the most tender spots inside her pussy and it interrupts her babbling.

Karina almost hyperventilates when she gets up to spit on your cock. She pulls out some kind of meter from her tool belt and sighs when there’s no beeping and you recognize it having to do with carbon dioxide. She gets back to dribbling saliva and the filament trailing down to your shaft mesmerizes you. This spit is real, not simulated, and it wettens your erection in a mix with her pussy juices to paralyze you further in your already listless state. Her bare thighs jiggle and you can’t exert much force with your hands but her buttcheeks are firm with just a bit of give.

“Thank you for this cock, thank you for being bad,” Karina says as you watch her ass sink deeper while her pussy holds your dick taut. She’s frenetic when bounces up and down to play an unadulterated orchestra of slick noises between your groins.

“You’re welcome,” you accomplish getting out the words between planned breaths. Your hands cup her buttcheeks but you fear they may break with how she strikes her ass into you.

Karina turns around once more to give you the spectacle of her facial expressions as she fucks herself into you. Knead her calves laying on your torso and they take no energy to spread them though she brings them back together, compressing your hard shaft within her pussy. A new game you play with her, a separate rhythm of loosening and tightening. Her feet press on your chest to help her bounce, but the way they bear down on your lungs against the timing of your breathing causes you to fumble. Your cock bends straight forward as she plunges herself into you and it sends prickles to your entire skin, making the new angle difficult but worth it. Karina takes your hand and starts sucking on your fingers.

“You want my promise that bad?” you say.

“Yes, as bad as I want your cum. I swear, I need it.”

She draws her knees up to her torso and hugs her legs to keep thighs as tight together as possible. Karina couldn’t keep her word, she was trying to kill your cock with constriction.

“Fuck, your pussy is so fucking tight. God, Karina, fuck. You’re so good.” Even if good isn’t the word you want to use to describe her.

“Do it, please, please. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, baby. Karina can be a good girl, a good maid, a good cop, whatever you want. Just don’t get me in trouble, please.”

Karina’s mouth stops saying words though her lips writhe, drunk in increasing lust. Her cheeks flush, before the rest of her skin joins in redness while she grapples your chest and whatever spare limb she can find. You still struggle wresting control of your body but nature seems to take over when you drive yourself into her and match her needy cadence. The air in the room is replaced by a new air but it isn’t Aether. Passion, sweat, heat and all fluids that you both exude join squelching sounds, slaps and moans in harmonic bliss when her body tenses and she screams. As her body tightens, her pussy especially holds your cock for dear life and endeavours to wring out all your semen as her wetness throbs and spills. Karina starts counting to three repeatedly and you laugh though your amusement quickly subsides when you feel her juices become more viscous and she continues her ride, even in the dying pulses of her climax.

“Was I good?” Karina asks.

Just a moment goes by before you mentally send her a screenshot of all the recordings being deleted. Karina hasn’t stopped fucking you yet so at least it wasn’t a ploy.

“Thank you, thank you, I love you.” The flexion of her pliant legs brings them all the way back to rest on top of your legs. Karina lays prone above you and finally give you a kiss. The citrusy flavor may be closer to lime than grapefruit but it’s been so long that you can’t remember which scent is which. Lips crash and her tongue lashes out at yours trying to establish dominance. Keep still to let her investigate your mouth while her pussy does the same to your shaft.

You savor the way Karina’s top emphasizes the bouncing of her tits synchronous with the rebounding of her waist on your cock, but your mouth waters when she frees them. Take the shortest moment to relish in the sight before Karina smothers you with her plump globes. You wriggle your face to try to breathe. Inhale, up and exhale, down, but all you inhale is the scent of her orbs’ sweat. Her hips undulate with a pace at least double yours breathing and the echoes of slapping flesh resonate throughout the air-filled chamber. The loudness is unlike any you’ve experienced in a long time. It’s almost a flashbang every time her ass slams into your lap, especially as you start to see white when orgasm threatens to overload you with preludial pulses.

The last words you hear infected ten million computers in 2000. Fade to black. Cut. You’re slammed out of existence back into existence as a sun rebirths both within you, heating your core to a dangerous high, and from your eyes, dazzling you in an unforgiving white light. In the throes of unconsciousness relapsing to consciousness back to tenebrosity, your streaks of semen suspend in the Aether like a dead tree resting from the wind. What flashes your mind in its orgasmic state are two things only you would remember, plants and weather. Your hyperventilation is unconscious but not unwelcome, as it’s the first time in a while your breaths were reflexive even in the liquid air. However, basking in your newfound power, you start to choke. Right. You breathe in and out again. In and out. In. Out. In. Out. Back in.

“Replaying KarinaArrestsYou.mp6.” A hint of vexatious glee in the system’s otherwise dry voice. You don’t stop for it.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

It’s pretty silly but the idea danced around in my head ever since I saw the absolute Black Mirror concept that SM had for aespa and I concur that Karina is insanely hot.

As I’m writing this, this Kurzgesagt video on the idea of a rogue Earth comes out and now I have to rewrite stuff to make it at least a little consistent. I’m obviously already going nuts with all these ridiculous sci-fi concepts but this video almost feels too targeted to me writing this for me to ignore it.

#kpop smut #aespa smut #male reader #reader insert #title tracks

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