#just let me see how much i can distort the face and still have it somewhat resemble the character

[truths33k3r4]

CHAPTER 29 - Beginning of Their Nightmares

The hopelessness that had once infiltrated its way into Don’s anxious heart vanished as soon as he heard the sound of his twin’s voice. All his doubts and the many ‘what ifs’ plunged into the forgotten corners of his mind as he called out to his brother.

“Raph, are you alright?? They didn’t hurt you, did they? Do you feel ok? How many fingers am I holding u-”

“- GEEZ DON- You’re makin’ my headache worse! I’m fine, you can stop freaking out now.”

“I wasn’t freaking out. This is not freaking out.”, Don gestured to himself as best he could whilst being tied down to the floor, “You’re ok? No injuries?”

“Yeah, bro. I’m fine.”

Don recognized the exhaustion laced into his brother’s usual tone, but besides that nothing seemed amiss. All the purple-clad brother had to go by at this point was his hearing, seeing how his brother was still morphed and distorted into nothing but tired and angry pixels.

“What can you see?” Don asked with a hint of ember in his tone, still annoyed with the aching reminder that he still didn’t have his glasses.

“Uhhhh..”

Don heard the whispers of fabric sliding across skin. He quickly connected this to Raph’s mask tails moving as he turned his head to search their new cell. Quickly following was the subtle taps of Raph’s fingers, signifying he was beginning to get anxious. He would always do his little taps when school got too boring, or when he was waiting his turn to join in a sparring session in the dojo; He wanted to move.

“Raph, are you tied down too?”

Don’s ears caught the shuffling sounds of his brother squirming.

“DUH. Otherwise I woulda been over there smackin’ you in the head for letting us get caught like this.” Raph’s voice didn’t burn with bitterness, but instead warmed with brotherly affection. Or at least- as affectionate as the hothead could manage, going against every temper-fueled bone in his body. Don could just imagine the smile gracing his twin’s face.

Even when we’re captured he can’t help himself to tease me. Never change, brother.

“Yeah thanks for that lovely sentiment, dear twin of mine. But we still need to focus on an escape plan. Now you, the only one in this room with proper vision, describe to me what you see so I can calculate a way to get us out of here. Please and thank you.”

Don could tell from the muffled vibrations that Raph was biting his lip as he hummed to himself.

“There isn’t much, brainiac.. Four walls, a roof and a floor..”

“Thank you for explaining to the audience that we are indeed in a room.”

Don still had that same feeling of someone watching him and his brother, so going by that, he theorized there was another camera hidden in the walls of their cell.

“Oh shut up, dude.. At least I’m not blind.”

Don’s countenance fell at the reminder. He knew his brother didn’t mean for his words to become sharp blades, but Raph’s ignorance didn’t negate the fact that his simple sentence drove a piercing sting into the freckled brother’s heart.

Even with the pain of his brother’s words pulling him down, Don still took the opportunity to get some ribbing in as well.

“Well, at least I have a functional brain, compared to your useless, tied-down muscles. Intelligence can’t be restrained.”

“Ha! Yeah right. Call me when someone wins a wrestling match using nothin’ but their brain.”

“Not exactly what I meant- but regardless, we need to find a way out of here.”

As much as I’d love to continue in this lovely banter, we really need to focus here, Raph.

“Are you tied to the floor too?”

“Not exactly.. I’m on a table.”

Raph tugged and yanked, but no rings of chains echoed. It sounded closer to straps of leather, accompanied with a small tink of what appeared to be a belt buckle.

“You’re what? On a table?.. Like a surgeon’s table?”

Don should’ve thought through those sentences a bit more thoroughly before allowing his brother to hear them.

“A WHAT? Surgeon?!”

Don’s shoulders rose as he hissed through his teeth in regret. Raph’s tugs and yanks became far less controlled by the second.

Yeah, perhaps I should’ve thought that through a bit more..

“Raph stop- you’ll dislocate your shoulder or break your wrist- just.. Calm down.”

“THIS IS AS CALM AS I’M GONNA GET, DON. Cause if this is ANYTHING like in the movies, THEN I AM WAY PASSED SCREWED.”

“Yeah, we’re BOTH gonna be screwed if you don’t let me use your perfect little vision spheres to find a way out of here!”

“I TOLD YOU THERE’S NOTHING IN HERE!”

Don could sense the stress building in Raph’s body, like lava filling to the rim of a volcano. Only instead of the raging inferno being fueled by his temper, it was being fueled by something far less predictable: his fear.

If Raph has a meltdown he’ll be more useless than I am. Calm him down FAST. Use facts. They almost always help me in stressful situations such as this, so hopefully it will be the same for him.

“Please stop yelling. A headache will make my brain, the only useful internal organ I have left, far less helpful. And panicking isn’t going to help anyone. You’re only going to further injure yourself.”

“I’M NOT PANICKING, I’M STRESSING THE CRAP OUT.”

Ok yeah- that didn’t work. Try being more real and honest with him. Less facts, more truth.

“Noted. But if you continue like this you’ll have a panic attack, and that will render you either catatonic or inconsolably violent. Neither of which will help us here.”

The constant tugs of leather stopped.

“.. Did you just call me a cat?…”

You know what, I can work with this! At least when Raph’s confused he’s not moving or hurting himself.. Yes, keep him asking questions, it’s helping him calm down!

“You know, catatonic. Comatose.”

The pixelated blurb that was Raphael’s head tilted ever so slightly.

Hehe.. This is fun. I should do this more often.

Don continued on as he began to list synonym after synonym, further deepening his fiery brother’s confused, dazed state. As long as it kept Raph from hurting himself and panicking, then he would be happy to oblige to confuse the heck out of his brother. Don couldn’t help the growing grin on his face as he specifically chose the most convoluted of words; ones that would leave Mikey with his pupils slowly separating. Normally it would annoy him that his family and brothers didn’t understand the meanings to his wide variety of vocabulary. But now the thing that he had been teased and ostracized for..

.. had become his greatest strength. And with this assumedly useless gift, he had been helping to calm down his fearful brother.

“Don, what the shell are you even sayi-”

The melodious sounds of Raph’s confused tone were jarringly cut off with a sharp gasp. Don twisted his head to face the blur which was his brother.

“Raph??”

Don REALLY WISHED HE COULD SEE.

“Raph what’s wrong?? What’s going on?”

Did he see something? Is he hurt?

“Quiet Don, someone’s comin’.” Raph shout-whispered to his brother, as his voice changed to ‘protector mode’.

All Don’s work to calm down his brother vanished before his malfunctioning eyes, as the sounds of footsteps drew nearer to the door of their cell.

Don’s posture straightened as much as he could manage while still being tied down to the floor. Memories flashed behind Don’s eyes of the Man touching and prodding him like some science project.. He had felt so small under the monster’s watchful eye.. The cells of humanity flowing in his veins seemed to disappear as he refused to speak in front of his captor. It was worth it though.

It was worth it to not reveal to the Man just what he was up against.

It was WORTH IT to keep his humanity from being seen by the monster.

The door opened. Don’s spine shivered at the sound of boots.

Ochitsuke. Focus, Donatello. FOCUS.

As the Man walked towards the chained-down mutant, his pixels combined and formed into a crisp image. But for once today, Don was absolutely fine with not being able to see clearly if it meant he wouldn’t have to peer into the ghost’s face again. The mutant leaned as far back as he could as the Man’s face edged closer. The familiar sound of Raphael’s growls echoed from the back of the room.

“Welcome to your new home. Here you’ll form so many new memories.”

Don’s muscles all tensed as he fought with all his might to not back down from the creature of a Man. His stiff form wasn’t helping the growing ache in his wrists from the chains and cuffs, but it was worth it to prove his strength and will to his captor.

I WON’T BACK DOWN, YOU DEMON.

The Man reached out his hand to Don’s face, caressing the fabric of his mask. The purple-clad mutant let out his own warning growl, but that did nothing just as it hadn’t before. The Man’s slender hands brushed across Don’s cheek, making that same awful chill enter into the mutant’s soul.

Don wanted to throw up if it meant the horrible feeling of dread in his stomach would cease.

The Man took both his hands and wrapped them behind Don’s head, fluidly slipping off his purple mask. The Man pocketed it with the smoothness of a master thief.

“You won’t be needing this. Not an inch of you will be a mystery once my studies begin.”

Don’s face being fully presented to his captor made the mutant shrink in discomfort. Sure it was just a piece of cloth with two eye holes.. But he had worn that mask since he was twelve years old. It was part of his identity. But now he watched as the Man continued to deny everything that made him him; Proof to Don that what was coming for him and his brother would test everything they had in them:

Their constitutions.

Their will.

Their faith.

And especially..

..their understanding of who they are.

“These walls have kept many different… creatures at bay, and over time all of them fell. Some to their madness.. Some to my blade.”

Don’s spirit suddenly felt the embers from his brother’s seething flame.

The Man turned to face Raphael, but stayed uncomfortably close to Don’s side.

“Ah yes. Rabid Red..” the Man tsked in a facade of pity, “Seems the surplus of sedatives did nothing to cure you of your infuriatingly pitiful temper. But that’s fine with me.”

The Man reached for his coat pocket, while refusing to break eye contact with Raph. By the sound of his brother’s growls not wavering, Don figured the Man’s intimidation attempt wasn’t so successful.

But then…

All went silent as the Man revealed a syringe filled with a noxiously potent green liquid inside. The Man rose off the ground and began walking towards Raph, a frighteningly bright smile spread across his face like some awful infection.

“.. I want you to be fully awake for every second.”

Don’s pupils constricted as he turned his head to face his brother.

RAPH NO!

The cap of the syringe was removed with practiced hands, revealing the needle shining in all its horrible glory.

“.. I want you to feel every fluid ounce of agony slowly creep through your skin and into your blood. I want you to see the monster I know you are.”

Don’s ears drowned out the sounds of his captor slowly drawing closer to his brother, and instead focused on the shivering breaths and tight gasps escaping Raph.

He’s terrified.

“.. This is what you get for biting me, freak.”

NO! PLEASE STOP!!!!

Don’s heart painfully beat in his chest as the Man creeped into the pixelated shadows, once again becoming the faceless Specter that would forever haunt the freckled mutant’s nightmares.

RAPHAEL!!!!!!

Don’s hearing finally betrayed him as the sounds of his brother’s anguished cries seared into his ears.

Andddd that's it for this chapter!....

.. Is it bad that I truly enjoyed writing for Specter in this-??? Is something wrong with me?... Have I officially lost my shell? Heheh.

To God be the glory!

~ Melissa

MASTERPOST <- PRIOR CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER ->

#my version of tmnt!! #the strength in weakness #SIW Don #SIW Raph #tmnt #hurt/comfort #angst #captured #tw needles #tw fear

[tagerrkix]

rage.

#welcome to today's episode of “me trying to draw 76 different emotions at once” #rage+grief???sorrow??? anguish????? #hmmmmmmm #definitely pain #and a hint of fear #no but like he's angry but there's sadness underneath you get what i'm saying #the kind of rage caused by something that left you traumatized and you just can't stop thinking about how unfair it was #like “i didn't deserve this nobody deserves this” kind of rage #well anyway #i don't even care about anatomy at this point #just let me see how much i can distort the face and still have it somewhat resemble the character #didn't mean to draw him crying again but my hand slipped oops #astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate 3 #astarion fanart

[kunikuyu]

Until he gets tired.

Heian Era! Ryomen Sukuna x Male! Reader

Warnings: 🕊️ DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. Dom! sukuna, sub! reader. reader is simply crazy. Size kink, cut play, mention of the term 'sex slave', dub-con, sex even when passed out, bulge in the belly, begging, abusive relationship, words written intentionally wrong, sukuna has two dicks, fainting, monster romance (for obvious reasons). DNI MINORS.

Summary: Being Sukuna's partner is something completely insane. Aside from the fact that Sukuna is incapable of loving anyone, he seems to take a twisted pleasure in hurting his partners. Every night, [Name] knows that the next day, he will wake up completely destroyed.

The climate was pleasant. Not too cold, not too hot, a gentle breeze blew through the walls and windows of Sukuna's temple. But what made everything scary and strange were the screams that came from inside.

Today was a special day. [Name] and Sukuna, the king of curses, had completed a hundred years together, as partners. Normally no one would celebrate this, since... Who would want to stand next to Sukuna? No one would be crazy enough to do that.

But, [Name] is.

"Uhm~ 'Kuna..."

The ancient sorcerer purrs. [Name] was sitting in the lap of the curse, skin completely exposed for anyone to see, but protected so no one can touch. And of course no one would touch, who would even dare to come close to the one who is so 'well taken care of' by Ryomen Sukuna. His chest was already completely red and full of small cuts, which were leaking almost invisible drops of blood. He didn't even know how he managed to stay awake anymore, it seemed simply impossible not to pass out there. Not because of the small and insignificant loss of blood, but rather for the pain in his lower parts.

[Name] couldn't move, couldn't even dare breathe wrong, if he didn't want to get slapped in the face. It seemed like an impossible task, and it really was, since Sukuna's dick wasn't just anything, or just an organ. It was big, ridiculously big, it seemed like a joke to imagine that it could fit on someone. So much so that only the cockhead managed to enter the sorcerer's body.

But Sukuna didn't care at all, of course not. He smiled when he saw his flushed face, expressing pain and clearly distorted pleasure. And instead of helping, he only makes the situation worse, squeezing hard around [Name]'s entire length so that he's unable to cum. This felt more like a punishment than a reward for staying by his side for so long.

"Such a dirty little whore... Are you that used to it? Don't you even scream in desperation for me to get out of you? I don't know if I find this interesting or pathetic." He says, with his typical arrogant and self-centered tone.

Deciding that he would take things more seriously, the King of Curses pulls [Name]'s hands close enough to him, so that the younger man is completely lying on top of Sukuna, being the perfect target for the all-out aggression the older man has in mind. He liked seeing his partner like this, but he much preferred seeing him screaming and crying because he couldn't handle his dick.

[Name] lets out a howl of pain as his severed chest is thrown hard against Sukuna's chest. It was like a thousand needles going into his skin because of the small cuts located in the area, but he still managed to find pleasure in the pain.

"Sukuna...! That hurts...!"

"I know."

Suddenly, agonizing screams of pain can be heard from far away. The screams were definitely from [Name], who was now being fucked mercilessly. He drooled against the other man's shoulder while still going through the trouble of jerking off his other cock. It was always so painful, the older man's balls aggressively slapped his ass, while his dick reached the deepest layer of his body, crushing his prostate with ease.

"Stop, please!~ Sho painf- ah!"

He doesn't even have time to complain before another of Sukuna's tricks is revealed. The two bodies completely glued together served so that the mouth on the monster-man's stomach could willingly take in [Name]'s red and swollen cock. He doesn't even know what to feel. It hurts, but he's about to cum!

And...

...To faint...

This lasts all night, and several times, [Name] even faints. It didn't end until Sukuna got tired, and he could never easily get tired of his beloved sex slave. When [Name] wakes up in the morning, a small pool of blood was formed on his bed, and next to the bed, a calm and silent Sukuna was cleaning his own body, which was dirty with fluids from both of them. When looking at his body, the sorcerer realizes that his chest was no longer the only thing that was bleeding, but his entire body. His belly was even full, certainly from Sukuna's loads of cum, which were clearly not few. He can barely stay awake for long before passing out again from exhaustion and blood loss.

#male reader #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna smut #jjk x reader #jjk sukuna #smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna x male reader #jjk #dead dove do not eat

[starsofteal]

Daylight

Halsin x Tav // Halsin x Reader

Summary: Tav misinterprets Halsin’s declarations, thinking he must not want her as much as she wants him. Can Halsin convince her of his love? A/N: Well, my first Halsin fic is here! Based off this dialogue from the game, featuring a classic miscommunication trope. When I first came across this dialogue, I found myself rather disappointed by Halsin’s declaration, and I realized I was focusing on all the wrong parts of it. I couldn’t get the idea out of my head, so here we have a scenario in which Tav has done the same. This fic is so self-indulgent it should be a crime. Warnings: Hurt/Comfort (emphasis on the comfort—I promise all’s well that ends well). Pretty spoiler free, except for the opening dialogue if you’re romancing Halsin and you want all that to be a surprise. 

“Relationship?” A deep chuckle rumbles in Halsin’s chest. A sinking feeling settles into your gut. You weren’t sure what to expect when you broached the topic of a potential relationship, but a laugh? A direct blow from an enemy sword would have hurt less. 

“Such terms belong to civilization—a little unfamiliar to my lips.” His words continued, but that soft smile, those kind eyes, the strong, steadfast shape of Halsin, it all begins to shift, distorting just slightly as traitorous tears prick at your eyes. A quick bite of your inner cheek reminds you to hold steady, to not let the tears fall—by every star in that gods damned sky, you are not going to let him see you cry. 

“…you and I should each seek happiness wherever it lies…”

He’s still going on? You think to yourself. How long can one rejection take? You bite your cheek even harder, a coppery tang bursting on your tastebuds. 

Halsin’s words echo in your mind, despite the fact that his monologue seems to continue, piercing your heart again and again, the pain stealing the breath from your lungs. You will yourself to take in another breath.

“Let others know the happiness of being with you.” Halsin smiles down on you, not an ounce of malice in those soft green eyes. The staunch difference between his kindhearted gaze and the red-hot pain radiating in your chest was nearly laughable. In fact, at that very moment, you were unsure if your next steps would include crying, laughing, or launching an all out assault on the mountain of a man before you—an action that would surely not work out in your favor given the comical size difference between you two. 

In the end, it was all you could do to offer a small, meager, “I see.” It’s a notable effort to keep the emotion from your voice, but you’re proud of the attempt all the same.

A frown breaks out across Halsin’s face, his brows knitting together in confusion. “Have I said something wrong, my heart?” 

Those two words are a slap to your face. You don’t trust yourself to speak, not again, so without a word you turn and make your way to your tent as fast as your feet can take you. 

The fabric barely has time to fall in place behind you before the warm tears finally break free. 

_________

Two days had passed since the incident. While you wanted nothing more than to mope about on your bedroll and avoid Halsin altogether, your situation doesn’t exactly allow for such luxuries. 

Which is how you find yourself in the woods with Shadowheart, foraging for ingredients to top off your party’s supply of potions and tonics. Though you left early in the morning, the sun glares bright overhead now. Wiping a bead of sweat from your brow, you crouch low beneath a bush and scan the area for the bright violet blooms Shadowheart had you scouting for. 

“I just don’t understand why you had to drag me out for this,” you fuss at your friend as thorns from the underbrush prick your side. Your clothing offers little protection against natures most irritating defenses. 

“Surely there’s…someone more suited to this than I.” Your following scowl can’t be entirely blamed by the literal thorn in your side, not as thoughts of Halsin flash through your mind once more. 

Shadowheart hums absentmindedly. “Yes, this is true. Halsin is more in tune with the forest,” she mutters, collecting something from the earth too small for your eyes to make out. A soft clink tells you the specimen makes it into the glass bottle. “I was actually hoping to talk to you about that,” Shadowheart continues, popping the cork back on the bottle and tucking it away. 

“About what?” You hiss as another thorn embeds itself in your palm. You toss a scowl her way before distracting yourself from the conversation as you fiddle with removing the thorn. You’re not sure which hurts worse, the abrupt change in conversation topic or the wound in your hand. Impervious to your dirty looks, Shadowheart makes her way over to you. 

“Well, you two were nearly inseparable. Absolutely enamored with each other—anyone could see it.” She takes your hand into her own to assess the damage.

“And now, well, if I’m being completely honest dear, you’re rather dour, you seldom leave your tent, or you’re looking for any excuse to get away from the party—sorry this’ll only hurt a second.” You wince as she pulls the thorn free and presses hard on the wound to stanch any bleeding. “And, well, Halsin’s been…unusually forlorn. Like a poor dog that’s been kicked in the stomach.” 

With a scoff you withdraw your hand, taking care to apply pressure to it just as Shadowheart had done. 

“I couldn’t care less what Halsin’s been doing.” The lie is ash on your tongue. 

Shadowheart looks at you then, really looks at you. You try your best not to fidget under her assessing gaze. 

“What happened?” 

“I—“ 

“And don’t bother lying to me,” she’s quick to interrupt. “Save it for someone else. I know something has been bothering you.” 

Resignation floods you. Leave it to Shadowheart to see right through your bravado and into your heart. 

“I was a fool for thinking he could ever be happy with me.” The words are soft as they fall from your lips, but they burn your heart all the same. A firm weight falls on your shoulder as Shadowheart offers an encouraging hand. 

“Tell me everything.”

_______

Halsin’s voice calls out your name from just outside Shadowheart’s tent. His low timbre still brings a tightness to your chest, but you will yourself to breathe normally. You’d been doing your best to avoid him since getting back to camp with Shadowheart, but you suppose now is as good a time as any to rip that particular bandage off. 

“Yes, Halsin?” You ask matter of factly, not even looking up from the array of ingredients you’re currently sorting through. You pointedly ignore his gaze as he steps into the tent, taking up a majority of the albeit limited empty space. 

Halsin clears his throat, clearly uncertain how to proceed. You two had always shared such an easygoing openness between you,  but the last two days had left him scrambling for purchase. 

“I was hoping we could talk,” Halsin smiles down at you, undeterred by your clear avoidance. 

“Mm, we are talking.” You collect up one of the empty potion bottles, wiping at a smudge spot with the edge of your tunic. 

Halsin forces a chuckle, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Of course we are, but, erm, perhaps we could go for a walk? Enjoy some of nature’s company for the evening?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Your tone is sharper than you’d intended, but the guilt passes over you in a second as you replay his words in your mind, his scoff when you so much as mentioned a potential relationship. 

Halsin sighs. He had hoped that his 300 odd years of experience would give him a leg up in navigating this prickly conversation, but—as is usual when you’re involved—his heart and his tongue seem to be tripping over one another. 

 “My heart,“

That gets your attention. Your gaze snaps up to his, laced with venom. 

“You do not get to call me that. Not anymore.” 

Halsin feels his own chest start to cave in as the hurt flashes across your face—you master it a moment later, but the damage is done. 

“I’m not sure what I’ve done to upset you,” he starts, but you interject again. 

“It’s fine. I’m not upset,” you force some neutrality back in your voice. “You weren’t interested in things continuing between us, and that’s fine. Nothing to apologize for.” You gesture to the flap of the tent. “You can take your leave now.” 

Halsin does the opposite, braving another step closer. 

“Of course I need to apologize. It appears my words have caused some confusion. Worse yet, I fear they’ve caused you pain.” 

At that, you still, finger pausing over the bottles set up in front of you. 

“You must know that I would never intend to hurt you.” Halsin’s tone was bordering on pleading. “Even now, it physically pains me to know that I’ve hurt you so.” He draws a hand to his chest, moving as if to soothe an ache that’s nestled beneath the surface there. 

You glance up to see the hurt now reflecting in his eyes. It’s enough to bring forth a sigh from your lips, your shoulders caving in as resignation takes over your body. Even now, you can’t find it within yourself to hate him, no matter how much easier it would make this. 

“You’re not responsible for my feelings, Halsin,” you sigh. “They are my own.” 

“No, but I do take responsibility for my words,” he counters. 

“You don’t want a relationship with me and you said as much. There’s nothing left to be said.” Despite your best attempts, your voice breaks on the last word. You close your eyes, clinging to the blunt words, mentally rebuilding your armor to power through the rest of this conversation. 

“There is so much left to say, my heart.” Halsin’s gentle words caress your face like the sun’s rays on a warm summer day. “I have so much left to say.” 

You keep your eyes closed, focus on taking another breath, keeping your heart steady. “Then speak.” 

“I love you.” 

Your eyes spring open, and Halsin is before you, close enough to touch. A large, tentative hand reaches up to cradle your face. You don’t pull away, and that’s enough to bring relief to Halsin’s heart. 

“I don’t understand,” you whisper, afraid your mere voice would crack the perilously thin ice you suddenly find yourself on. “You said—“ 

“That I would not keep you to myself,” Halsin is quick to finish the thought. 

“That we should seek out other people,” you correct, a touch of anger shading the words as you step out of Halsin’s grip. 

At that, Halsin’s eyes widen. “No.” His voice holds more sharpness than the druid had ever shown with you before. “I said no such thing.” 

“Well, maybe not exactly, but the sentiment was there,” you grumble, the frustration seeping through at your hazy memory. 

“That ‘sentiment’ is misguided.” His tone leaves no room for argument, but you do it anyway. 

“Well, forgive me if I don’t have it memorized word for word—I was a little busy having my heart broken,” you snap. 

Halsin pauses for a heartbeat and you watch the pain shine in his pale green eyes at your words.

“And I will never forgive myself for the pain I’ve caused you these last few days. But listen to my words now. I beg of you.” 

Another heartbeat passes. He takes your silence as permission to continue.

“I don’t abide by these conventional rules set in place by society. My home is in nature, and I follow the path the Oak Father has set before me. These ideals of what relationships should or shouldn’t be, you’ll have to forgive me if they're all but foreign to me.” 

Another wave of disappointment washes over you and you close your eyes in a futile attempt to deter the familiar pinpricks of tears. A warm, familiar hand caresses your face before tilting your chin up to bring your gaze to his. 

“But trust me when I tell you that I have never met someone like you. My heart does not stir lightly. But it does for you. What I feel for you pales in comparison to those who came before you.” 

There is no doubting the sincerity that lies in those soft verdant eyes. 

"It feels as though I have been asleep in a centuries long dark night, and now I am finally seeing daylight,” Halsin’s deep voice soothes, each word repairing the aches and tears of your heart.  

“There is no one else for me, my heart. Call it what you wish; you are all I want. Nothing would make me happier than to have you by my side for the rest of my days, if that is what you desire as well.

My love for you runs deep and true. Never doubt it, my heart.”

And then his lips are on yours, and every thought eddies out of your head, but one: Halsin loves you. 

Pure joy and relief floods your body and you don’t even bother trying to stop the tears of joy that follow. Halsin pulls back from the kiss just enough to swipe the tears from your cheek.

“I love you, too, Halsin,” you whisper in the space between you as Halsin presses his forehead to yours. 

“Forgive me, my heart. For the pain I have caused you.” 

You smile up at that handsome face you’ve grown to hold so dearly. Your slender hand  reaches up to caress his cheek, tracing the swirls of his tattoo. “Only if you’ll forgive my foolishness for doubting you.” You feel the shame rise up, bringing a heat to your cheeks.

“My heart, there is nothing to forgive,” Halsin murmurs before pressing another kiss to your forehead.

#halsin #halsin x reader #halsin x tav #halsin silverbough

[soapskneebrace]

confessional offerings

previous - neighbors - next

Pairing: John Price x f!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: Dirty talk. Implied masturbation. LIGHT daddy kink (the word is not used but the dynamic is implied). Also on Ao3.

The neighbors lay their cards on the table.

“Hi, love,” he replies. “Where are you? Still at dinner?”

“No, we left. I’m in my hotel room.”

“Good,” John says. He feels his own expression go soft at the sound of your voice, which is sweet and gentle even across miles and distorted by the phone. “I missed you this morning.”

He hears you shift—imagines you laying in bed, in your pajamas after a shower, skin warm and hair still a little damp. He can almost feel it if he imagines it; the rhythm of your breath with his mouth against your neck, his open hands across the soft expanse of your stomach.

He’s never seen your bed, so he has to supply his own in his mind. The idea starts up an ache that’s been building all day.

“Me too,” you say, at a near-whisper. You sound painfully shy.

John smiles. He likes that shyness, likes that you give him the chance to draw you out of it. “You know, if you want to know why I like you, love, all you have to do is ask. I’d tell you if you did.”

You don’t respond for a moment. He doesn’t press. You like that he does that, he’s found, that he gives you time to think. John has no qualms doing that for you; he wants you to feel comfortable with him. 

Finally, in a small voice, “Why do you like me, John?”

“What a question,” he says, unable regardless to keep from teasing. “Where do I even start? You’re putting me on the spot, here.”

“John!” you whinge, and he laughs.

“Hm,” he murmurs. “I like that you’re kind. You never have to spend time with me, but you do. And you’re smart, love, I like that a lot. You guessed I was bored without me saying anything, and did something to help me. I don’t think you know how much that means to me.”

“Sometimes I feel like I’m forcing you to read my books. Just so I can have something to talk about with you.”

“If that’s what you think forcing is, I’d like to see what happens when you really try to get something you want.”

You laugh, so he knows from that sound that you know your fear is a little ridiculous. Good—if you really thought that nonsense, you might leave him alone.  

“And I like the way you say my name,” he says, hearing the desire in his own voice. Will that sound scare you? He’s got to show it to you at some point. You need to know how easily you can get him going.

“How do you mean?” you ask. 

“Like it means something to you,” he says. “Not a lot of people call me by my first name, love. And no one says it the way you do.”

“Oh,” you say, small and soft.

“I want to hear you say it more often,” he continues.

“…John,” you say, and it hits him like a lightning strike. His cock throbs suddenly and near-painfully.

His voice lowers, roughens. “Just like that.”

You say it again, still shy, but on a breath that is clear in its arousal. “John.”

This is not where he meant for this call to go, but he couldn’t complain about the direction if he tried. He shifts his legs, tries to convince his growing erection to sit a little more comfortably against his thigh, but does not touch himself. He isn’t there with you, not yet. 

“I like that you give me that, love. You let me have so much. More than you know.”

“I always think that,” you say, passionately. “I never understand. I don’t know why things mean so much to you.”

“Because it’s you,” he says. “There isn’t a lot of…gentleness, or kindness, in my life. And you—that’s all you are. You give me more of it than I’ve ever had. I’m a man starved, and all you ever do is feed me.”

He wants to see your face so badly. He wants to see the little crease that shows up between your brows when you get emotional. He wants to hold you again, feel the weight of your body on his, learn your shape with his hands and mouth. He wants to say all of this, but he doesn’t want to scare you off.

“I haven’t fed you yet,” you say, with a little waver of humor. “You’d remember my cooking.”

John blinks, and then barks a laugh. “Oh, love. I want to devour you.”

You make a little noise, and yes, John is painfully hard now, able to feel the beat of his own blood in his cock against the tight crotch of his pants.

“Is…is that what you’d do?” you ask. “To me?”

“Yes,” he says, letting his voice sink deep into his chest. “For hours, if you’d let me. Sweet girl, I want to spoil you rotten.”

You make a humming sound, high and from the back of your throat. “I didn’t think men really liked that.”

“I’m going to find and kill whoever taught you that,” he promises. “There’s nothing I want more than to get my mouth on you, love.”

“Nothing?” you say, and he grins, recognizing a prompt when he hears one.

“You want me to tell you what else I’d like to do? How I’d like to have you on my cock, drag it out for as long as you can stand? I want you in my bedsheets, pretty girl, making a mess of them because I’m fucking you so good. I want you wrapped around me and holding on so tight, because that’s all you need to do. Because I’m taking care of everything, and all you need to do is take it.”

“John,” you say, shakily.

“Should I stop?”

“I—” you stammer, “I just don’t know how to respond, John. I don’t know what to do.”

“You could tell me how that sounds to you,” he purrs. “Be nice to know if you like the idea.”

“…I do,” you say, “a lot, John.” 

And he has to grin at the breathless way you say it. He knows you now—he knows how hard that must have been for you to say. He’s so goddamn proud of you for saying it.

Then, you continue, tentatively, bravely. “What else…what else would you do?”

“Mm. I had some thoughts about that vibrator.”

“No!” you cry, groaning long and disconsolate as he laughs. “No, I thought I’d gotten it, oh, John…”

“It was bright pink,” he says, needling you further.

“You didn’t say anything!” you protest. “Oh, I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be, love. Were you thinking of me, that night?” he asks, breath shallow in his lungs. “Did you get off with that vibrator between your legs, imagining what I could be doing to you?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, John.”

“Except it wasn’t very good, was it, love?” he continues. “Because it wasn’t what you wanted. You wanted me there, wanted my hands and my mouth and my cock, isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you reply, and it sounds like a whine.

“You can have them,” he promises. “The moment you’re home, I’ll give you everything you want.”

You don’t respond immediately. He doesn’t think he’s pushed too far, this time; rather, he thinks with not a small amount of satisfaction, you might just be recognizing the scope of his offer. 

It’s a moment John always enjoys with potential partners—that quiet, trembling realization that yes, they can ask for anything from him, because he really will give it to them. Because they know that they can rely upon him, that they can trust him. That he wants nothing more than to be someone they can fall into, freed of worry or concern.

“I do want it, John,” you whisper into his ear. “All of it.”

Something uncoils in John’s chest. Appetite, yawning wide, swallowing your confession whole. His balls clench, hard. He wants to see the look on your face. Both when this finally happens—when you give in to him—and right now, as you’re realizing you can. 

John is not one to employ absolutes lightly; he wants to see you now more than he’s ever wanted to see anyone in his life.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he says, hearing a rasp in his voice. “Will you come to see me when you get home, then?”

“I—” you say, sounding breathless. “Yes. I will, John.”

“Good,” he says. “Now do something for me, pretty girl.”

“Yes,” you breathe.

“I’m going to let you get back to your evening,” he says, adjusting his hips. “And when you lay down to sleep, I want you to think about me. Think about what I’ll do for you. Because I’ll be thinking about the exact same thing.”

“Yes, John,” you say. There’s a…floaty, far-off quality to your voice. It will not take John very long at all to finish tonight.

“Did you bring your vibrator along with you?” he asks.

“No.”

“Pity,” he says. “I guess we’ll both be using our hands, then.”

“Oh.”

He laughs. “Good night, love. I’ll see you when you get home.”

“Good…good night, John.”

He says goodbye again, and ends the call. He lays his phone down and sits back, staring up at the ceiling. The football game is long over, some late night talk show playing now. He turns the TV off.

He’s not sure whether it’s going to be easier now to make it through the next two days—or much, much harder.

A/N: We're almost there.

#john price x reader #john price x you #john price x y/n #price x reader #price x you #call of duty fanfic #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #mw2 x reader #mw2 fanfic #captain john price #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #cod smut #mw2 smut #neighbors au #og post

[the-returnofartemis]

/ASTRO OBSERVATION 1/

i'm excited to share my first astro observation! i'm still new to all of this but i’ve picked up on some things that i feel compelled to share. however, i do want to emphasize that my thoughts may not apply to everyone.

okay, so i recently remembered that as an INFJ, we are considered to be the rarest personality type. this got me thinking and i realized that most INFJ’s are either water dominant (cancer/scorpio/pisces), possess fixed sign placements (leo/scorpio/aquarius/taurus) in prominent planets or have prominent water houses (4H,8H,12H) in their big six. coincidentally, i happen to know to other people who are also INFJ’s, and we all have prominent cancer, scorpio and aquarius placements. 

✧ j-hope from bts is a well-known INFJ. although the accuracy of his birth chart is uncertain because there is no actual birth time, it revealed intriguing aspects. i mean, hobi’s chart indicates prominent water placements (scorpio and pisces stellium), alongside his aquarius sun!

yes, it is interesting to observe how neptune in the first house has a unique ability to draw in copycats but those with this placement were once copycats as well lmao.

‘the copycat becoming the one being copied’ trope is quite funny to witness actually

this behavior may stem from their struggle with their personal identity and appearance, leading them to shape-shift into the aesthetic or persona of someone they admire in that moment (this tendency is very short-lived by the way lmao). rather than taking the time to define their authenticity and discover their true selves, they find it easier to adopt the persona of another individual. sometimes, they rely so heavy and get caught up on external influences, that they lose the plot SO fast. but as individuals with this placement mature and come into their own, they come to understand that it’s fine to draw inspiration from others but recognize the importance of embracing their unique qualities and traits. it is this self-acceptance that allows them to become pioneers and set remarkable trends. 

✧ ariana grande: y’all can never make me hate her, i am so sorry lmao but of course, there is no denying that she has faced many accusations of being a ‘mariah carey copycat’ but it is important to acknowledge that she has now cultivated her own distinct singing style that has garnered widespread acclaim and popularity. in all honesty, she has become the epitome of having copycats, even to this day lmao. the sheer number of women/fans/people in general imitating her, from her hair to her fashion sense to her mannerisms, is just WOW. like, the way how she has garnered immense adoration needs to be studied (i mean not really because her scoprio midheaven + neptune 1H undoubtedly contribute to her appeal but still!) 

✧ kim kardashian + kylie jenner: when it comes to these two, there's not much that needs to be said lmao like their influence and presence in media speak for themselves. they have managed to create a significant impact, and it’s hard to ignore but let’s remember their roots and who they took their influence from.

✧ megan fox: she’s taken on MGK’s entire aesthetic. she has embraced his style and persona, and it’s interesting to see how it has influenced her own image, considering the fact that she is THE megan fox. even now, the timeless looks that she gave us in the late 00's are still being imitated!

in reference to my previous point, on astrology twitter, jade mentioned an interesting perspective that i completely agree with and feel compelled to share with all of you: having 12H placements can lead to losing the plot SO fast, so it’s crucial to be mindful. although the 12H is widely regarded as the most intuitive, spiritual, and governing the subconscious, it also represents the potential for self-sabotage and lose one’s sense of self. the influence of neptune, the ruler of the 12H, can create a distorted illusion and a tendency to view circumstances through rose-colored glasses. so, 12H placements, it’s essential to always stay grounded, and more importantly, maintain a strong sense of self to avoid losing sight of the goals and aspirations!

✧ an example of this is a 12H sun becoming egotistical and subsequently losing sight of their goals and aspirations, ultimately hindering their progress in life. 

(get well soon by ariana grande just came on and i dedicate this beautiful song to all, but more importantly to those with 12H placements. remember that you are strong and capable of overcoming any challenges that comes your way – you can conquer anything. stay positive and always take care of yourself. you got this! — sincerely, a fellow 12H 🫂) 

scorpio/8H moons are often labeled as “mysterious” due to their tendency to keep their emotions hidden from others on a daily basis. in truth, they rarely feel comfortable expressing their feelings, even to those they trust, as they fear burdening others. this tendency may have developed during their childhood, where they may have not felt safe or at ease in sharing their emotions, leading them to learn how to control and suppress them. however, if you manage to break through the walls of a scorpio/8H moon and they confide in you, it is significant sign that they felt truly seen and understood by you. this can lead to a strong desire to be in company of that person, as their energy provides a sense of comfort and less isolated. so, if you have a scorpio/8H moon in your life, they value you and treasure the connection you share. 

the infamous 22nd degree, commonly referred to as the “to kill or be killed” degree, is often associated with rare and extreme circumstances. being a capricorn degree, it genuinely has a favorable influence, especially in terms of one’s professional life. but, individuals with this degree in their chart may encounter ongoing challenges and be vulnerable to gaslighting. overcoming these challenges serves as a constant reminder to nurture their self-awareness and resilience.  

✧ example a: according to her birth chart, beyonce is believed to have three planets (neptune, pluto and chiron) positioned in this degree. in her latest film, “renaissance: a film by beyonce,” she courageously shares all the moments that highlight the constant challenges from those around, particularly her production team, who questioned her credibility and knowledge – she expressed that she always had to prove herself and felt undervalued in terms of her opinions.

i also just want to say that bey became artist that she is today by perfecting and learning every aspect of her craft throughout her extensive career. she has taught herself everything there is to know about showmanship, and to discredit her knowledge, especially to her face, is just crazy to me. her success is a testament to her hard work, dedication, and talent and she deserves all the recognition she has received.

✧ example b: chlöe (chloexhalle) has the degree on her lilith. unfortunately, chloe has faced relentless scrutiny and gaslighting since she entered the public eye. the placement of the degree on her lillth has made her a target for heavy negative judgement and projection, particularly in regard to her expression of her sexuality and individuality.  

i mean it when i say that it is truly remarkable to witness her immense talent and undeniable beauty, along with her incredible kindness. i honestly feel like the public wants to keep her in a box, hindering her from fully blossoming into the person she aspires to be. she needs that space and freedom to embrace her own journey of self-discovery and personal growth.

✧ example c: jungkook from bts has the degree on his sidereal venus – the degree on his venus suggests he might face challenges related to low self-esteem and lack of confidence in his own attractiveness. also, this placement can also indicate that he may experience situations were power dynamics within his relationships come into play. while details about his personal relationships are scarce, as they rightfully should be, it is evident that he faces an alarming level of compromise to his safety due to the actions of obsessive fans and stalkers. the behavior exhibited towards him, like, being mobbed at airports or these fans intruding his personal space by sending food to his house and even going as far as issuing death threats. as a relatively new fan, i can sense that this issue is more serious for him compared to other members. these fans seem to lack an understanding of personal boundaries and persistently push the limits, even after he has politely requested their respect, which is truly disheartening. 

it's quite likely that jimin and namjoon (other members of bts), also have this degree, given the challenging circumstances they have encountered and continue to face. 

i also learned that this degree can also symbolize power and the ability to have immense influence over others. those who possess this degree in their natal chart often hold positions of power and occupy the highest echelons of the social structure (hence the name, ‘to kill or be killed’). this degree is found in numerous royals, politicians, and highly influential celebrities natal charts: justin bieber, donald trump, kendall + kylie jenner, kim kardashian, barack obama, the british royals and more. here is a post that delves deeper into the theory behind the placement!

gemini placements 🤝 wearing different hats (exploring various interests). they cannot for the life of them confine themselves to a single pursuit, as it tends to become monotonous for them. this may seem unpredictable to others, but, for gemini's, it is a way of truly embracing life and ensuring that they savor every aspect of it, just as they should! 🤭

also, the gemini venus slander in the astro community is so ????? like, yes, an undeveloped gemini venus may struggle with indecisiveness and inconsistency, but it is important to know that a well-developed one can be an incredible partner and asset in a relationship. developed gemini venus partners are known for their unwavering commitment to nurturing a strong bond in their relationships. they will consistently strive to contribute in every way possible to ensure a lasting connection, thanks to the influence of their sidereal taurus venus (may not always be the case though). they value stability and security, and above all, understand the importance of forming meaningful relationships, especially when they feel like they share a profound intellectual bond with their partner – like, they would not take it for granted because they know that not everyone has the capacity or desire to engage with them in that way lmao. they will be there for you until they are convinced, based on their rational thinking (which also depends on the influence of other placements), that they have thoroughly explored every option and exhausted all potential outcomes. even then, it may take them some time to reach that conclusion because they will need to make sense of it all, so, they will make a point to have conversations with their partner to ensure mutual understanding before moving forward. building a strong and fulfilling relationship requires dedication, and a devoted gemini venus will their offer support in all aspects – whether it be physically, emotionally, or notably, mentally. honestly, they will go the extra mile to ensure that they’ll do right by their partner!  so, i beg, please, love us! 😪 lmao – sincerely, a gemini venus  

 also, a gemini venus + strong water placements (house/sign, especially in cancer/scorpio) … oh baby, just sit down and make yourself comfortable because you not leaving until there is a deep understanding of both the emotional and intellectual aspects 😭

the 3H, 6H, 10H and 11H are known as the GROWTH houses, where continuous effort is required to achieve meaningful outcomes.

3H → one must acquire skills, engage in learning and exploration, and find avenues to express the knowledge gained

6H → the importance of daily practice and consistent work on said acquired skills

when these houses are in alignment, they pave the way for recognition in 10H and 11H.

10H → gaining recognition

11H → benefits and influence that comes from being recognized

by pouring constant dedication into these houses, one can expect significant growth and positive outcomes!

jupiter aspecting ascendant/sagittarius rising/jupiter in 1H 🤝 bootylicious + hourglass curves! this can also manifest in having bigger than “average” features (example: big eyes, big smile, prominent thighs).

the “BODY SO TEA” phrase was literally made them lmao

capricorn moons often tend to be the ones who frequently disappear without a trace. they carry a heavy burden of responsibility for all aspects of their life, and often possess a strong desire for control. when faced with a situation beyond their control, they can become overwhelmed with anxiety and allow their fears to take over, resulting in the ghosting. also, i noticed that they find it challenging to find any glimmer of hope in any given circumstance. even though it is widely believed that having the moon in scorpio is the most difficult, capricorn moons may have them beat. 

moon in 8H synastry is not for the weak—it is truly life changing. for this overlay to work, both individuals must have developed the ability to harness and channel powerful energy. without this, the relationship can feel unstable and unpredictable, with both individuals feeling like they're being pulled in different directions but haunted in love, in the best and worst way possible. it is worth noting that this overlay tends to have a strong impact on both individuals involved but it primarily affects the moon person.

✧ positive aspects: creates a deep emotional and psychological connection that allows both partners to truly understand connect with each on a profound level. this bond is so intense that it defies words and creates the desire to explore and uncover the depths of each other’s being. for instance, the 8H individual may possess an innate inclination to understand the moon and their innermost self, initially overwhelming the moon but ultimately embracing because of the sense of comfort provided by the 8H energy. this mutual willingness to explore and understand each other nurtures trust, openness and above all, an indescribable love within the relationship.

✧ negative aspects: gaslighting and power imbalance. the desire for control can create an unhealthy dynamic where both are constantly vying for power, leading to a breakdown of trust and emotional well-being. can also lead to being possessive toward one another that will result in the individuals feeling trapped. the possessiveness can stem from a deep sense of longing for each other, which will only further perpetuate the cycle of unhealthy dynamic (lovers to enemies trope + make up/break up). 

one comparison that comes to mind is the tumultuous relationship between olivia pope and fitz in scandal. if you’re unfamiliar with these two, i recommend checking them out on tiktok (despite their toxic tendencies, their relationship was a guilty pleasure for the viewers because of the intensity and undying love they had for one another. like, i don’t know anyone who watched the show that wasn’t a fan of olitz lmao) 

i also had this overlay with a former partner, and my goodness, was it something. he was the only partner i’ve had who could evoke such intense emotions in me and i found myself completely vulnerable to his touch (in a good way). the chemistry was so powerful, i really believed he was the one for me. but like i mentioned, as with any intense relationship, there were both positive and negative aspects to the connection. while the positive side was truly otherworldly, the negative ultimately won out and caused the relationship to come crashing down. i plan to delve deeper into this experience and share the do’s and dont’s of this synastry in a future post.

understanding astrology can be a valuable tool in gaining insight into your true self. to get a sense of the practice, i feel like it is essential or to at least explore “traditional” western (tropical + sidereal) and vedic astrology. each chart offers a unique perspective on your personality and life path, and by studying them, you can gain a more comprehensive understanding of your place in the world!

i have so much more to share but i’ll save that for another post. please remember that this only for entertainment purposes only and based on my observations! i’ve also linked the findings in case you want to read for yourselves. thank you so much for reading!

sending all my love, 

artemis x

#astro observations #astrology #astro community #Kpop astrology #astrology tumblr #sagittarius #8h placements #astrology placements #birth chart #astro posts #pluto #gemini venus #neptune 1H #j hope #cancer #bts astrology #jungkook astrology #jimin tarot #jimin #hobi #hoseok #jungkook #Beyonce astrology #bts #beyonce #Ariana grande astrology #chloexhalle astrology #jimin astrology

[deerlottie]

☢️ — knight in shining armor

summary: lucy has a thing for your knight armor. warnings: 18+ MDNI, suit kink, riding, knight!reader, gn!reader, not proofread

the first time lucy saw you she held her breath until she saw black spots.

she had never seen a Knight in real life before, and when you took off your helmet to introduce yourself, she was star struck — all wide eyed and blushing and stuttering her name when you had asked for it.

she thought you suited the armor perfectly.

you can always feel her staring at you when you're in it, and at first, you thought she was still amazed by being friends with a knight, but the more you hung out with her in the wasteland, the more intense her looks became — her hooded eyelids staring at the center of your suit, her breathy voice whenever you'd touch her with your metal fingers to ask if she was okay, and by the 20th time you caught her staring, you connected the dots.

so, you started to wear it more.

you became obsessed with your effect on lucy, reveling in how shy she got around you, even in your red jumpsuit. and when a couple of raiders stole your fusion core, she quite literally scoured half of the wasteland to find it and bring it back to you with the biggest grin on her face.

"are you almost done fixing it?" lucy pops up behind you, making you jump. she apologizes, chuckling softly while admiring how shiny the metal looks as you wipe it down.

"yep," you nod, finishing the last touches before you stand back, looking over at her. "how does she look?" you ask, a faint smirk on your lips as you notice her dusty pink cheeks.

"uh-really good! dandy even." she gives you a thumbs up.

"great." you toss the rag to the side and open the suit, ears perking as you hear lucy's breath hitch as you get inside. "help me close the back?"

lucy's fingers twitch and she gulps hard before she runs her hands along the metal as if it were your arms. she shakes her head as she gets lost in thought, hurrying to shut it and clearing her throat as she steps back.

"alright," you distorted robot voice says, hands on your hips as you face her. "if we get a move on now, we should reach the observatory by sunset." you start heading into the forest, and it takes you a little while to realize lucy isn't following behind. "luce?"

"lie down."

"excuse me?" you tilt your head, almost laughing at how sudden she spoke. she walks up to you, licking her lips before letting out an exasperated sigh and trying to push you to the ground, groaning when you don't budge.

"i'm gonna go insane if i keep this in any longer." she whines, zipping down her blue jumpsuit until she's just in her bra and panties. you gasp and look away, and she takes advantage of your frozen state to push you, successfully making you fall back onto your ass. "i need to ride you."

lucy gets on top of you, settling down on your middle plate and letting out a satisfied moan as she begins grinding down. she holds onto your shoulders, throwing her head back in pleasure as the ridges hit her clit in just the right way.

after getting over your initial shock, you bring a metal hand up to her chest, experimentally squeezing. she whimpers, leaning into your touch as her tongue lolls out. "o-open your mask, i want to see your face."

yes ma'am.

you open it and she shudders as your sweaty face is revealed. leaning into kiss you, she arches her back as you grip her ass to make her grind down on you even more. her orgasm is already approaching, the feeling of finally fucking you being too much for her body to handle.

"i've dreamed of doing this since we first met." she confess, voice airy and light. you groan, lifting your hips up as if you were pounding into her. she stutters out your name as she cums hard, her body shaking as she collapses on your body. "holy moly."

you smile at her silly expression and kiss her forehead, running your hands in her hair. "now i'm gonna have to clean it again."

#.myworks #lucy maclean x reader #lucy maclean thoughts 💭

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Conrad and Belly beach scene but it’s reader instead of Belly. They kiss and it’s emotional and I was really hoping their would kiss! So happy she and Jere didn’t!

The beach scene had me screaming!! They finally used snow on the beach <3

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

‘’Leave me alone,’’ you slurred, your back turned to Conrad as you watched the waves crash over your feet. 

Coming to the beach in your intoxicated state was far from wise — an outright perilous choice. However, reason and prudence had abandoned you at this moment, too drunk to properly think.

‘’I can’t,’’ he responded. 

His footfalls reached you, his presence palpable and audible in the water. Without preamble, Conrad hoisted you over his shoulder like a potato sack and took you out of the ocean.  

‘’No! Conrad! Put me down,’’ you demanded the moment your feet left the ground. ‘’Just put me down.’’ 

‘’You’re drunk.’’

‘’Put me down!’’ You hit at his back as he walked up the beach.

‘’I’m not gonna put you down.’’

‘’Conrad, let go!’’ 

He did, letting you down on the sand ungracefully. 

You glared at him and dusted the sand off your shorts. ‘’Just go.’’ 

He extended his hand to help, but you smacked him off. ‘’I’m not leaving you.’’

Those next words would never have come out if you hadn’t drunk so much of the bottle left forgotten in the sand.

‘’But you already did,’’ you let slip, standing up with a little bit of struggle. You felt tears coming as you looked at Conrad, memories of that night coming back in flashes. ‘’Why didn’t you tell me you went to Jeremiah about us? Why?!’’ 

When he showed up to your house in October, all he said was that Jeremiah had moved on and was seeing other people. He didn’t tell you that he asked for his brother’s blessing despite knowing how hurt Jeremiah was about the situation. Coming from someone who never talked to anybody about his feelings, it meant a lot to you that he talked to Jeremiah. He fought for you. He was serious about you.

‘’I don’t know!’’ Conrad blurted in response, genuinely not knowing why he kept this from you. 

‘’If I had known that you had done that, that you cared that much about me and about us— If I had known, then I would have fought for you.’’ Tears blurred your vision, distorting his image.

Conrad looked down at you confusedly. ‘’What do you mean?’’ 

‘’I mean I would have fought for us. At prom, and at the funerals…’’ A tear slipped down your face, but you didn’t wipe it. ‘’And I would have been there for you through everything.’’ A sob left your lips, your heart breaking over the boy you swore you would never cry for again. 

‘’I thought you knew. I thought you knew,’’ Conrad repeated, his deeply buried feelings starting to come through his walls. ‘’From the moment we kissed on the beach I thought you knew.’’

‘’Why did you throw it all away? Why, Connie?’’ You reached for him, then pushed him away, undecided if you wanted him to hold you in his arms or to hit his chest in anger. ‘’I…I thought that we loved each other.’’

‘’We did,’’ he confessed for the first time, swallowing thickly. ‘’I still do.’’ 

Tears welled up in Conrad's eyes as he looked at you, his defenses crumbling under the weight of his emotions. The tension in the salt air was palpable, a mixture of regret, longing, and the weight of unspoken words hung between you.

‘’Then why, Conrad?’’ you choked out, your voice trembling. ‘’Why did you let me end things? Why did you get in your car at my prom? Why didn’t you fight for us?’’

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek gently. You didn't pull away, torn between the anger you felt and the overwhelming surge of emotions that his confession had stirred within you. 

‘’Because I didn’t want to be a burden to you. I kept disappointing you…’’ 

Conrad did disappoint you on prom night, but not for the reasons he thought. You didn’t care about the corsage or if he wasn’t in the mood to dance all night. You would have settled for just a few dances if that’s all he was able to give you. His head was elsewhere and you understood that. Yours would be too if your mother was terribly sick and approaching her last days.

You wanted to tell him that, but you were drunk and standing way too close to Conrad to make any rational decisions…so you closed the remaining space between you and kissed him.

—

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#conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher fanfic #the summer i turned pretty #the summer i turned pretty imagine #tsitp

[dilemmaontwolegs]

hello gorgeous, I love your imagination that you put into words. I expecially like your works on daniel&gasly (maybe because they're my favorite drivers). I saw that requests are closed and you're going under the knife (hope it goes well!) but if by any chance you want/have time to write this I'll be happy. Will be pleased with whatever you choose to do with this request.

The reader is a very normal, ordinary person. Rents a flat, has a job, meets with her friends form time to time. Nothing much. Somehow hers and the drivers paths cross. He immediately falls in love with her, she feels the attraction but after one weekend with him she understands that they're too different and it certainly won't work. So he's trying to persuade her to give them a try and she always runs away when her feelings instead of brain start to win. During intimate moments she starts to make awful jokes or act like a child, everything to not let the passion take over and the driver notices that and the seducing begins.

Would love this with dan or pierre but it's up to you.

Have a lovely day! 😊

P.S: Sorry for my English, it's not my 1st language

Romantic at Heart || DR3

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x fem!reader Warnings: none really, smut implied WC: 2.3k

F1 Masterlist

You should have been heading straight home, just like you had promised the girls after a Friday night out, but the lights had stolen your attention. At first you thought it was a firefly, a single orange glowing tail on the brick wall. Then you spotted another, but it was blue. Then one by one you noticed them dotted along the wall, all the colours of the rainbow leading the way to the riverbank in the opposite direction to your apartment. 

Curiosity had you following the path of tiny LED lights, wondering what it might lead to. The distance between each beacon grew closer until they became clusters, like little galaxies of constellations you could wish upon. A small laugh bubbled up as you skipped along to the next one with childlike excitement, so engrossed in what you were looking at that you didn’t see where you were going.

“Oh, sorry!” you apologised as you bumped into a man, his hands scrambling to catch his camera before it could hit the pavement. “Sorry, I was distracted. Is your camera okay?”

The man had recovered it without incident and smiled as he held it up. “Mind if I check?”

“Check what?” you asked as he raised it to his eye, the lens pointed in your direction.

“If it still works. Smile!”

You laughed at the man’s confidence and you heard the shutter snap the photo before he looked at the display. “Wow, that’s perfect,” he praised, waving you over. “Come look.”

You stepped closer to the man, feeling a sense of recognition though you were certain you hadn’t met him before. He angled the camera so you could see what he had captured and your lips parted in surprise. You couldn’t understand how he had managed to take a simple photo but make it art. 

The smile on your face was pure joy, and the lights behind you had distorted under the exposure and contrast to create a halo around your head. 

“You look like an angel.”

“Oh my god,” you whispered in amazement, wishing you could have a copy for yourself. 

“God?” he chuckled as he held a hand out. “Nah, you can just call me Daniel.”

You shook his hand with a laugh, feeling like it was a sound he was used to hearing from everyone he spoke to, and gave him your name in return. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Daniel started to say and you immediately began to shift uncomfortably on your feet, “but you’re beautiful, and it’s late, what are you doing out on your own?”

“Oh, I was out with my girlfriends and on my way home when I saw these and I kind of, had to, follow them…?” you trailed off and looked back at the dark path you had wandered down, less and less lights illuminating the way home. “I guess I should be going.”

Daniel followed your gaze to the darker end of the road and hated the thought of you walking it alone. Shoving his camera into his hoodie pocket, he offered his elbow. “Care for some company on this fine evening? My mother would throttle me if she knew I let a lady walk home alone at this hour.”

You chewed your lip as you debated his offer. “Are you a serial killer?”

“Only at breakfast.” You took a sudden step back and he screwed his eyes shut as he berated himself. “Sorry, sorry, terrible joke. Terrible timing. I meant Cereal Killer…because I eat cereal for breakfast…I’m sorry.”

“That is not funny,” you said despite laughing. “I watch way too many Netflix shows for that.”

His head tilted to the side and caught the colours of the leds around you as curiosity filled his playful smile. “Have you seen that Formula One show on there?”

Your nose wrinkled at the idea and shook your head. “Sports isn’t really my thing.” Trusting your gut that he was safe enough, you looped your arm in his and set off down the road. 

“Then what is your thing?”

“Books,” you admitted, suddenly shy though you had no reason to be. “My friends actually refer to my apartment as ‘the library’. If I didn’t have to work to buy more books I don’t think anyone would see me again, I would just hole up and read.”

“There’s worse ways to spend your time,” he joked with a grin you were starting to think was perpetually painted on his face.

“Yeah, I could watch Formula one.” His smile faded and his laugh puttered out, making you instantly regret the joke. “I can hardly make fun of your thing when I’ve told you mine.”

“I don’t actually watch F1,” he admitted as he stopped walking and you turned to face him. “I’m too busy racing.”

“Racing what?” 

He blinked a few times and his lip twitched with a smile when he realised you were genuinely confused. “I race cars…in F1…for McLaren.”

You waited for the punchline to come but for the first time since meeting him, he was serious. “Oh, oh! Okay…wow. I guess that’s why I felt like I recognised you, I must have seen you somewhere. God, I feel stupid.” You laughed to yourself and sighed, whispering under your breath, “you’ve been reading too much romance.”

“You’re not stupid,” Daniel said quietly. “I feel it too.”

Your laugh was an unladylike snort of disbelief. “Don’t be silly, you don’t even know me. You don’t even know my last name or what I do for work.”

“But I want to, if you’ll give me the time to learn. Not that it matters what your job is, you aren’t your work.”

“What if I’m an escort?”

“Are you an escort?”

“Would it matter?” 

He was momentarily stunned and you saw him worrying his bottom lip and he thought of an appropriate answer. 

“I’m not, but obviously it would matter,” you clarified as you turned and started your walk again. “I’m an admin assistant, not an escort, just so you know.”

“Not a librarian?” 

You smiled as you tipped your head back to the starry night. “A girl can dream, but they aren’t positions that tend to come up very often. Even less with everything going digital.”

“You could open your own library, you already have the books apparently.” 

You hadn’t realised how far you had walked until you stopped outside your apartment complex. It had been easy to get lost in the conversation with him and you almost continued walking just so the evening didn’t come to an end. 

“Apparently?” you giggled as he opened the front door for you. “Do I have to prove it to you?”

He followed you to the elevator and leaned against the wall. “Is that you inviting me up?”

It was daring and absolutely unlike you but when you looked into his eyes you knew you wanted to see more of them so you found yourself asking, “Would you say yes?”

His smile grew as he reached for the elevator button in response and hit it.

Monday morning rolled around too soon and you struggled to pull yourself out of bed to get ready for work. Daniel’s back was to you as he hugged his pillow, one arm hanging over the edge of the bed, and you saw the slightly raised marks of your nails over his tan skin. 

The weekend had been better than any of the fictional tales that filled the rooms in your house. You hadn’t even left the apartment, too engrossed in each other's company to face the outside world. But that would change as you climbed out of bed and started your usual Monday morning routine. 

“Good morning, angel,” Daniel greeted sweetly as he snuck up behind you and kissed your cheek. 

You held up the piece of toast you were eating and let him take a bite for himself. “Can I have your number?” he asked after finishing his mouthful and watching you dart around the small kitchen, packing a little lunch to take to work.

“For what?”

“So I can give it to telemarketers,” he joked as he caught you around the waist. “No, so I can call you.”

“This weekend has been…magical, but you’re a famous race car driver, and I’m, well, just me,” you said softly. “I’m under no illusion about how this ends, Daniel, we live in two different worlds.”

“That’s just a cop out,” he argued, picking up your phone and calling himself so he had your number. “I’m going to prove you wrong.” 

Three Weeks Later “Daniel’s here to see you.” You looked up from your computer to double check Jess was talking to you and found her grinning like a fool. “I can’t believe he’s actually here.”

“Who?”

Jess reached for the half empty cup of coffee she had made you and sniffed it. “Did I give you decaf? Girl, wake up! You don’t keep a man like that waiting. The PA’s are already sniffing around him.”

Pushing your chair back, you rose at the threat of the PA’s who loved to dote upon any man who had a seven figure salary. Two of the glorified assistants longed to be on Love Island and their entire personality could fit in the extremely large breasts their ex-bosses had paid for - right before the sexual harassment charges were filed. Yeah, you weren’t going to leave Daniel to fend for himself.

Leaving the back offices, you followed the scent of knock-off Marc Jacobs to the reception area where Daniel smiled and joked with the small crowd surrounding him. You were once again struck by how different your lives were, his in the spotlight and yours anything but. It was only as you moved closer that you saw how the smile didn’t reach the creases around his eyes and heard the laugh that didn’t come from deep in his belly. 

“Alright, ladies,” you interrupted the group with a wave of your hands, “thank you for keeping Daniel company, I’ll take it from here.”

A few overly keen females pouted as they stepped away and Daniel cast a grateful smile to you before pulling out the gift he had hidden behind his back. It took a second to realise why the bouquet of roses looked strange but then the confused frown was replaced with a smile as you accepted it. Every rose was made of origami, carefully folded and shaped into the blossom and you quickly recognised the lines of Pride and Prejudice, arguably the greatest romance novel of all time.

“What are you doing here?” you asked as you held the meaningful bouquet to your chest. 

Daniel was all too aware of your curious co-workers still hanging around the area and dipped his head closer to yours. “There’s this angel I’ve been missing, and I just needed to see her again.”

The gesture, the words, it all made your heart skip a beat but you quashed the feelings that arose with it. “That is stalking.”

His laugh was genuine and your smile grew when you saw his reach his eyes as he corrected you, “That is romantic.”

“Thank you,” you whispered as you sniffed the paper roses. “Did you spray these with your cologne?”

“The book came from a secondhand store and it smelt like mothballs, which wasn’t the vibe I was going for. I think I smell better than mothballs.”

“Wait, you made these!” Surprise floored you as you looked at them with a new appreciation. 

“With a little help and a lot of youtube,” he grinned proudly. “I would have come sooner but it took three weeks to make them all.”

The effort he made brought tears to your eyes and you hurried to blink them away. The man was absolutely relentless in his belief that the connection between you could become something more, but you still struggled to accept it. It wasn’t because you weren’t attracted to him, no that had been instant from the moment you met, you just didn’t understand how someone as famous as him could settle for someone as plain as you.

“Surely you have better things to do with your time,” you said after swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Than thinking of ways to win your heart? No way. So…can I please take you out on a date?”

Your eyes traced the roses, scanning the lines from the pages of one of your favourite books. I am happier even than Jane; she only smiles, I laugh. Daniel made you laugh, he could always make you laugh. The late night phone calls that interrupted your reading time replaced the silence in the apartment with the sound of your laughter. But would it be enough to close the distance between your worlds?

Your eyes followed another petal and felt it resonate within: Her heart did whisper that he had done it for her.

“One date,” you said as you tore your eyes away from the flowers that only seemed to call to you more, begging to find more sweet sentences among the folds. “And nowhere public. I want to actually be able to talk with you, not get swarmed by fans.”

“I can do that,” he said with a wide grin before kissing your cheek. “I’ll see you tonight.”

He started to leave but he stopped as you softly called his name, looking over his shoulder from the doorway.

“Thank you for these, Daniel. No one’s ever done anything so sweet.”

“It’s just the beginning, angel,” he winked, disappearing out the door as you hid your face in the flowers that smelt just like him.

Crap, you sighed to yourself. He was worming his way into your heart, just like he planned.

#daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #f1 rpf

[rainylana]

“My angel baby, I’m here.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: eddie finds out that you self harm.

warnings: reader self harms and is severely depressed, undertones of poor eating habits but very brief, language, lots of tears, blood, angst to the max, mentions of periods.

a/n: this is the longest that i’ve posted yet since getting back into writing and i’m super happy with how it turned out! it is a sensitive topic so it won’t be for everyone. this is dedicated to all the ones who can relate to this fic. i hope you all have an eddie in times when it gets too much. please let me know what you think. it means the world and more than you can imagine.

You knew that what you did was not healthy. You knew it was sick and messed up. You knew that if anyone found out, they’d think that you were insane. The scars you gave yourself had no real reason to be there. You blamed yourself for that. You didn’t know how to deal with your issues any other way. The moment you were alone you’d drift off to the bathroom, turn the shower on and begin your twisted ritual of self abrasions.

Life for you was difficult, but still, marking your self up was no excuse. You had tried to quiet, of course. Many times you had, but it was a habit you could not break. You were too used to doing it. It was an everyday thing. It was like breathing. You breath to live. You can’t not just breath. So for you, cutting yourself was like breathing. You didn’t think you could stop. It helped you deal with your pain.

If you’d have known what the evening was going to hold for you, you would have slit your throat the moment you woke up.

Darkness clouded your mind. Sitting in class, the fog you knew well was storming your brain cells, making everything else fuzzy and hard to understand. Everyone looked blurry, their faces funny and distorted. They sounded odd. Your heart ached and sunk into the pit of your stomach like it always did. You had no way of explaining what this feeling was and what it meant, but you didn’t like it at all. Once it got you, it had you.

You didn’t try to share any of this with Eddie. You didn’t want him to know how much you struggled. Scaring him away was your worst fear. It was why you never let him see the tops of your thighs. Sex was always under the covers. Lights off. Eddie didn’t complain of course. To him, sex was sex.

And god, did you love him. You loved him with your whole heart and soul. You’d be devastated if he knew your secret. It felt awful to bare, this huge burden you carried on your shoulders. You wondered if any of your other classmates shared it too. There was a darkness in your heart that was eating you alive.

“Babe,” A warm, thick hand grabbed your shoulder, pulling you from sinking to the bottom of the pool you were drowning in.

“Huh?” You said a little louder than you’d realized, blinking rapidly as your vision spun around the room. “What?”

You turned around in your seat to find Eddie’s doe eyes narrowed. “You good?” He whispered, leaning closer. “You’ve been staring at the floor for fifteen minutes.” Your class wasn’t even doing anything important. You had a sub, so everyone was doing their own studying or reading. Eddie had been talking to you until you drifted off.

“Oh, yeah.” You nodded with a swallow, grabbing his hand that still laid on your shoulder. “Sorry, Ed.”

“Just checking on my girl.” He gave you a wink that made you blush. “You coming over tonight?”

“Yeah.” You whispered with a fake smile, exhaustion taking over. He could see the way your lips had faltered. You turned back around and laid your head on your desk, arms being your pillow.

Eddie stared at you.

He might not have been the brightest bulb in the shed, but he knew you weren’t the happiest girl in the world. He knew you were sad and weren’t telling him about it. He didn’t know why, but he wasn’t going to pressure you into it, but still, he was worried about you. He wished for one night that they both could talk about you instead of his problems for a change.

Maybe tonight could be the night.

•

You must’ve gotten your period, he figured. Here it was four o’clock in the morning, and for some reason he couldn’t sleep. He had gotten up to get a glass of water but stopped when he’d seen blood seeping through the tops of your sweatpants, the blankets kicked down below your feet.

“Babe,” He said groggily, giving your shoulder a light shake. “Y/n, wake up.”

You hummed back asleep.

“Y/n, I think you got your period,” He rubbed his eyes, leaning over you to switch on the light. “You’re bleeding.”

That woke you up. “Huh?” Your eyes went wide and you sat up. “Oh,” You gasped upon seeing the red leaks of blood seeping from your sweatpants. An inhumane shock of terror left your throat and you leapt from the bed to disappear into the bathroom, slamming the door shut.

Eddie, thinking it was your period, thought it was a little funny, even if he was exhausted. He got up and followed you to the door. “Baby, hey, it’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’ll get some new sheets from the closet, alright? It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

You didn’t respond. He waited for a moment to see if you would. He even knocked a few times before giving up and switching out the sheets on the bed. In fact, he did a lot before you actually came out. He changed the bed entirely, knocking again until you muttered a shaky response that you’d be out soon. He bit his thumb nail and paced for another five minutes before he went out for a smoke. He remained seated on the bed when you finally came out.

When he saw you, he knew something was deeply wrong. Your face was white and you were visibly shaken. Your face was stained with dried tears, your eyes bloodshot. Your heart felt like it was broken. This was too close. Nobody had ever gotten this close of finding out. The idea of him knowing made you feel sick. It was your burden and yours alone. It was yours. As sick as it was, it was who you were. Who were you if you didn’t do this? You were so used to it. It was routine for you. Half of the time you did it just to….well, just to do it, to feel something. You were addicted.

“Y/n,” Eddie glanced you over. “what’s wrong? Are you alright?” He stepped toward you, grabbing your elbows lightly. “Hey,”

You sniffled and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s go to bed.” You dismissed, now wearing a pair of dark leggings.

“Wait— babe, you’re crying,” He followed you to the bed, watching as you fixed the blanket over yourself. “Are you sick?”

“No, Eddie, I’m fine.” You adjusted your pillow, your body shutting down into survival mode. You needed the situation to be dismissed, shut down. “I’m sorry about the blood, was just my period.”

He sat down on the bed by your thighs. “Don’t be sorry bout’ that, honey. Just want to make sure you’re alright. You need anything? You want some water or something?”

“Eddie, I’m okay.” You stressed, laying down and turning your back to him. “Just forget about it, please.” Your voice broke.

He absolutely did not want to forget about it, not with the way you were trying not to cry. He sat there in the same spot for almost three minutes, eyes glued to your cheek. “Y/n,” He said again. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

You groaned into the pillow. “Damnit, Eddie, lay down!”

“See, I know you,” He shook his head. “You would never be this bothered over your period. Hell, last month you chased me around with your tampon!” He said bewildered, chuckling slightly. “Something else is wrong and you’re not telling me, and when something makes my girl cry, I want to know what it is, so tell me what’s got you so worked up, huh?”

You let out a sob and curled into yourself. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. God, you were so stupid. You shouldn’t have cut so deep.

“Baby,” Eddie frowned, leaning down to lay his torso on you, his chin laying on your shoulder so he could look at you. “Did I hurt your feelings today? Did I say something?”

“No.” You cried into your pillow. “No, Eddie, it’s not you. I promise, it isn’t you.”

He thought maybe he should just drop it, let you go to sleep and maybe it would be okay in the morning, but you were still crying, little puffs and pouts here and there. He couldn’t just dismiss that.

“It’s me.” You found yourself saying, out of the blue.

“What?” He missed what you had said. “I can’t hear you, honey.” He strained his ears to hear you.

“It’s fucking me!” You sobbed into your pillow, chest heaving with a heavy breath that made him jolt. “I’m the fucking problem!”

He had no idea why you were so upset. He didn’t know what to do. He gulped harshly. “Y/n,” He cooed, shushing you gently. He scooted closer, holding you tighter to place a kiss on your temple. “I’m here, baby. Shh, shh, I’m here.”

You let go, sobbing in his arms and into your wet pillow, you broke down in sobs. Most of it was just because you were purely exhausted and you were emotionally drained, depressed. This week you were in a deeper funk than what you’ve normally been in. You hadn’t been eating properly to start. Your showers consisted of laying on the floor and imaging yourself drowning. The idea of Eddie knowing your secret made you want to die, yet you spoke anyway.

“I’m so sad.” You whimpered while Eddie rocked you in his arms, his hands stroking your hair.

He’d thought maybe you’d fallen asleep. You’d been quiet for several minutes. “Why, baby?” He kissed your shoulder.

“I don’t know,” You thought, a crinkle in your nose as you tried to reason why you felt the way you did. “Something is wrong with me, Eddie.”

You were starting to scare him. He’d never heard you talk like this before. He swallowed hard, batting his eyes across the room like his answers were a poster on the wall. “Y/n, if you tell me maybe I can help you.”

God, was help possible? Could you stop? Did you even want to? Who were you if you didn’t have that one constant in your life?

The idea brought on a wave of fresh tears, your lips turning down in a blubbering frown. “You’ll think I’m disgusting.” Your back shook against his broad, bare chest. “You won’t— you won’t ever look at me the same. You’ll think…fuck, you’ll think I’m disgusting.” You sobbed broken-hearted.

Eddie started at your face, features masked in concern. He didn’t know what to do to make you feel better, and his mind was flashing the worst things that could’ve made you so upset, his imagination getting the best of him.

“Sweetheart, I promise whatever you think I’m going to say or do isn’t true.” He leaned over to wipe a tear. “I’m going to love you no matter what you say. That’s how this works, remember? Please, baby, tell me. You’re worrying me.”

Guilt made your heart pound. You let out a long mewl, curling up like a cat so you could cry. Eddie still didn’t let you go. This was your nightmare, yet you, yourself, were making it come true.

“I didn’t get my period.” You said with wet lashes.

“What do you mean?” He narrowed his eyes down at you.

You let out a sob, holding a hand to your stomach. “I mean, I- fuck, I didn’t get my..my- period!” You hyperventilated through your breath.

“Shh, calm down, sweetheart, you don’t have to rush,” He soothed you, rubbing your arms. “Come on, sit up with me.” He gently lifted you by the torso, your hair cascading down your back. You looked like a scared little girl. Your eyes were wet and your face was soaked like you’d been laying in the rain. Eddie sighed, his mouth in a frown as he tried to help you.

“Breath, honey,” He fixed your hair, smoothing it down in rough places.

“I’m so sorry.” You whimpered, grabbing his hands tightly, squeezing them.

“Don’t be.” He shook his head. “Nothing to be sorry for, angel. Just want you to tell me what’s got you so upset. What is it that you want to tell me?” He knew whatever it was, you wanted to tell him. And deep down, you did. Maybe that was why you couldn’t shut the hell up.

“I’m so scared.” You shuttered a breath. “I’m so scared that you’ll…what you’ll think of me.”

His heart was beating loud in his chest. “You said that you didn’t get your period,” He tried to question you gently. “What does that mean?”

Did you really want to do this? Did you want to just let it all go within a blink of an eye? Truthfully, yeah. Yeah, you did. You couldn’t do it anymore. At least not alone.

You sat up slightly, fingertips grabbing the waistband of your sweats as you tugged them down to your knees. You didn’t look at him as you sank back down to sit on your ankles.

“I cut too deep.” You wept, staring down at your thighs. It was your canvas, your target area. They were scared on every inch. Some white and faded with age, some angry and red.

When Eddie saw them, it connected all dots instantly. His eyes widened in horror at your legs. They looked absolutely terrifying. He couldn’t help let out a gasp. “Oh, god, y/n,”

His large palms ghosted over them, and he leaned down so he could examine them closer. “Jesus,” His own eyes blurred with tears, his bottom lip quivering with emotion.

“I know,” You shook your head shamefully. “I know, Eddie, but I can’t help it.” You lifted your head up as you shuttered out a tearful breath. “I can’t stop no matter how hard I try. It’s the only thing that helps me.”

“God, y/n,” He traced your scars with his fingertips, jaw fallen slack in shock.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” You bawled. “I’m so…I don’t know, I’m just- just- so miserable and it’s the only thing that seems to help. I’m just so used to doing it and I don’t think I can stop!” You blubbered, snot dripping onto your cupid’s bow and dipping into your lip.

Eddie’s head snapped up. “Oh, baby, come here.” He grabbed you and pulled you into his lap. You crawled to him immediately. He cradled your back as you threw your legs around his waist, your chests flush together in a bear hug. You sobbed into his shoulder, his kisses peppering your neck. “I’m here, I’m here.” He repeated.

“My angel baby, I’m here.”

Your body wracked with moans and groans of heartbreak, but you couldn’t deny the amount of relief that left your soul. It finally wasn’t alone on your shoulders. “God, Eddie, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t.” Eddie hushed you. “You have nothing, nothing at all to be sorry about. I should be apologizing. I should have realized. I had no idea you were unhappy.”

“I’m so fucked up,” Your voice muffled against his skin. “I don’t even know why I’m sad I just- I just am! It doesn’t make any sense!”

“Stop saying that.” He held the back of your head with his palm. “How you feel is perfectly understandable. I’m glad you told me. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, okay? Baby, I’m so sorry you’ve been going through this alone, but I’m right here now, okay? I’m gonna help you through this. I’m gonna help you rise above this because you’re so strong and you don’t even realize it. But you’re my girl and I know.” He rocked you in his arms, cradled you like a baby as you cried. “I know, baby, I’m here, I’ve got you honey.”

“Please, help me.” You fisted his curls, your chest hollow, yet heavy with emotion. “I need help.”

He nodded, whispering soothing words of encouragement as he fought off a wave of tears. “You can get past this. I did.”

You pulled away, your face an absolute mess. Red, snotty and tearful. Your lips pulled down in the deepest of frowns. “Oh, Eddie,”

He turned his elbow in a 90 degree angle, and angle you’ve never exactly examined, and cried when you saw the faded white scars. You went right back to his chest, holding him like a teddy bear. “Oh, Eddie, I love you so much. I’m so sorry.”

He held you close and kissed your shoulder, allowing one singular tear to spill that you didn’t have to see. He stopped when he met you. You were his saving grace. He’d be sure and do the same for you. His angel baby.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanons

[ymguchis]

23 : 39 — thinking of... kunimi fingering you ˙˖𓏲 ִֶָ

the idea of him doing this makes me go feral fr. just imagine this...

him sitting on the couch, exhausted from today's practice and with a face of disgust and annoyance (although we all know how much he likes to see you squirm when he has his fingers deep inside your wet pussy) and you sitting on his lap, your hands gripping his shoulders to steady yourself and have a ground wire. your legs would be trembling slightly from the agile and fast way in which his fingers move inside you, sharply hitting that point inside you that makes you see stars and roll your eyes. his other hand has a stern death grip on your hip, trying to hold you in place.

his movements would definitely be sloppy and lazy, almost as if he didn't feel like doing what he's doing right now, but you both know that he just wants you to cum to make himself proud and that he likes nothing more than to watch your face distorted by pleasure. kunimi for sure would snort angrily and roll his eyes at how loud your moans are or because you're moving on top of him too much, but you can't help it. His eyes look at you as if judging you but you couldn't care less 'cause, girl, you're having what you wanted!!

all that would come out of his mouth would be demeaning and mean words, growls and taunts about how needy you are for him. his deep and low tone of voice due to exhaustion all it does is turn you on even more. His brow furrows when your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling it hard, or when your panting grows louder by the second. but he really makes that face to hide that he actually thinks you look beautiful on top of him, lost in the pleasure he's offering you with just his fingers.

his fingers come out and enter your pussy with carelessness and speed. the splash of your wet pussy and your moans fill the room and you can't think about anything but cum. your whole body is on fire with pleasure, shivers run down your spine from how good it feels. your face is hidden in kunimi's neck. you can feel how your orgasm is growing little by little and suddenly, Akira's thumb starts caressing your clitoris with caressy circles. waves and waves of pleasure spread through your trembling body and moans leave your mouth like a mantra, your arousal wetting all over kunimi's hand. he doesn't stop his assault on your clit until you reach down to grab his wrist and pull him away.

you move a few inches away from him to look into his eyes. Kunimi looks at his hand and fingers filled with your essence for a few seconds and then looks at you while he wipes his hand on your shirt. You can't help but let out a laugh when you see what he does. then, a satisfied smile appears on your face when you see his brows still slightly furrowed. you spread kisses along his face in thanks and you can feel his expression soften little by little. the corners of his lips lift in a small smile. you can tell he has something on his mind.

"I'm already sleepy, but you could help me feel even more tired" kunimi says with a suggestive tone. his eyes looking at the ground briefly with implicit but clear intentions. let's say that you're immediately on your knees yk.

THIS MAN MAKES ME CRAZY. I love him sm

this is not well narrated at all but I wanted to share this thought with you guys. reblogs and comments are welcome <3

#⊹ ࣪˖⁩ writes !! #↺thoughts #spicy content🌡️ #⌦haikyuu!! #haikyuu!! #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #kunimi akira smut #kunimi smut #kunimi x reader #kunimi akira x reader

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hi there! So i hope you dont mind me requesting the BB league elite four members + Kieran with a disabled reader who used to be a former BB league elite four member themself (Romantic for Drayton and platonic for the others)

So basically, the reader used to be the fifth ranked member of BB league elite four but after Kieran became the BB league champion, they lost their rank to Crispin and now is the sixth ranked member. Though, they dont have any hard feelings and still see the elite four members as their friends

the reader had an accident when they were younger and now uses a wheelchair to move around. They have a gardevoir who they raised since she was a ralts and now helps her trainer with stuff (so maybe there’s something the reader needs but it’s on the top shelf, Gardevoir will then just use psychic and bring it down for them or maybe the reader wanted to try walking with a cane, if the reader fall, Gardevoir will catch them with psychic) and a Hisuian Braviary to help them get to places in the terrarium (if some hisuian pokemon still exist in this generation, who’s to say that Hisuian Braviary still exist as well)

With permission from the director, Gardevoir was allowed out of her ball to help the reader which then leads to a misconception where people think the reader is a psychic type trainer due to Gardevoir and Hisuian Braviary, when in fact they’re not. They are actually a ghost type trainer but they never bother to clear the misconception bc its funny to see people’s faces when people see their ghost type team.

Hope you have a lovely day/night btw!

- 🪷 anon

Oooh in regards to Hisuian Pokemon, I have a hc that they are extremely rare and got isekai'd to the present via space-time distortion bubbles (like opposite of how Porygon and Johtonian Sneasel were transported to Hisui)

Anyways these hcs sorta took off on their own haha, so they're under the cut!

.....

Drayton

Despite being wheelchair-bound for most of your life, that never stopped you from joining the BB Elite Four and becoming the fifth ranked member practically overnight.

Around that time, you and Drayton were dating, and during his champion days, he always tried to make time for you and put his duties on the backburner.

He knows you value your independence and will only help you out with stuff if asked.

But usually it's your two psychic types that assist you. They don't battle much, but rather work as your medical support Pokémon.

Gardevoir, a sweet lass you've raised since she was a Ralts, uses Psychic to retrieve things for you that are just a little out of your reach in the store.

One good days, you could walk around with a cane...but if they turn bad (ie your chronic pain acts up) she'll use Heal Pulse as a temporary remedy.

She also pushes your chair around in case your arms get tired, taking you around to accessible spots.

Director Cyrano gave you permission to let her stay outside her pokeball 24/7 so she can properly work.

You also have a Hisuian Braviary--who literally travelled across time and space to meet you--that flies you around the Terarium, letting you climb on their back while their talons securely hold onto your folded chair.

With those two often out and about, there's a common misconception about you being the Elite Four's psychic specialist...when in reality you have a ghost type team.

Many challengers find that out the hard way when they clear your trial and send their ghosts against you....only for you to reveal your own ghostly duo that hit back twice as hard.

Drayton loves watching your matches from the sidelines and laughs every time he sees their shocked faces.

He even proposed an idea that your team should remain a mystery up until the moment of battle.

All is well until Kieran comes along and dethrones him, which demotes you to the sixth ranking member..while Crispin takes your spot.

It wasn't exactly a position you liked, since it's on the cusp of disqualifying you as an elite member.

But you weren't mad at anybody over this...if anything you had to make sure Drayton didn't get too mad at Kieran.

Eventually, though, he learns that he could spend more time with you and has less responsibilities on his plate (ofc he's still petty, as we all know during Indigo Disk).

Despite his lax personality, he wants to do all he can to support you and defend you from harassment.

This man would definitely find excuses to carry you around.

"Oh why don't cha give your Pokémon a break and let me help you over here?" He suggests and you end up accepting his offer, letting him carry you from your wheelchair to the sofa in the club room...which is literally five feet away.

Still, you let him do what he wants.

Plus getting to cuddle is a nice bonus.

Kieran

You once knew him as this sweet shy kid who used to be scared of your Hisuian Braviary, always asking if they're gonna hypnotize him.

"No, Kiki..they just help me get around places."

"...a-are you sure? Because they're starin' at me kinda weird.."

"That's how they normally are."

Plus he (like many students) falsely believed you had a psychic team when you're actually the Elite Four's ghost-type specialist.

He admired that "element of surprise" you brought to the table and dreamed of the day he could challenge you himself.

But one trip to his hometown and back later...he's suddenly the Champion, a shell of his former self, who only sees Pokémon as tools for battle.

You wonder what happened to him, although apparently he had a bad falling out with some exchange student and took his angst out on everyone at BBA.

Getting you knocked down to the sixth rank was something he never really apologized for.

Despite that, he didn't tolerate people who talked shit about you, your ranking, your medical condition, or why your Pokémon get to roam more freely than their own.

"At least [y/n] is still out there training their team every day. At least they're turning their hardships into strength. What's your excuse?"

"I-I didn't mean any offense, Kieran! Listen, I'll apologize to them and-"

"Oh, you will...after we have a battle so I can assess your strength. No potions. No moves that boost attack, speed, or defense. If you lose, you resign. You have one hour to prepare."

Sometimes, you're not sure if he's genuinely looking out for you...or if he just wanted an excuse to bully club members around.

While he's aware that Gardevoir and Hisuian Braviary are mainly your medical support 'mons, he still thinks they can always try out battling.

"They could be the ones who help you climb the ranks again [y/n]. Surely you're tired of being in last place, aren't you?"

Yet the advice he believes is helpful is usually unwarranted half the time.

You could just be casually talking to a friend about how your opponent out-sped you and/or used Light Screen/Reflect...

Only for Kieran to barge into the conversation with "well maybe you should've taught Braviary Tailwind/Defog..but I guess you don't have the time for that" or something passive-aggressive that just makes you both uncomfortable.

Your psychic types are honestly annoyed by his new attitude..and you're just disheartened by how he acts around Drayton now.

You and him dating never bothered Kieran before, but now he just glares at your bf 24/7 and scoffs loudly if you're talking about anything except battling.

Despite everything, you knew he was going through something difficult, so you tried not to take his words to heart. You still saw him as a friend.

Someone who was just misguided in his ambitions.

After his humbling defeat and adventure into Area Zero, he comes back with extreme guilt, with you being the first elite member he apologizes to.

He especially feels shitty for distracting your psychic types from doing their jobs properly with his constant nagging to battle them.

But you forgive him, thanking him properly for all the times he's stood up for you.

And you do end up taking some of his unsolicited advice.

You invite him to a friendly double-battle when he returns from break and brought out Braviary and Gardevoir, using Tailwind and terastalizing one of them into a ghost type.

It turns out that whenever they're not working, they battle in perfect sync.

Crispin

In the beginning, this chef boi wondered how your two psychic types help you with your daily life, and you just explain everything as simply as you could to him during a picnic.

"So Gardevoir pushes me around, retrieves stuff I can't reach, and helps me manage my pain. Braviary just flies me around the Terarium....any questions?"

"Just one......do you use Braviary because the taxis here don't accommodate your wheelchair?" He assumes, already starting to fume. "How outrageous! That's not-!"

"Calm down, Crispy..they do. I'm just saying that I'd rather fly with Brave most of the time. It's not only convenient, but more fun for me."

"...o-oh, right. Sorry for getting all fire-up back there.." He gushes.

After learning how hard they work, he absolutely wants to make sure they're fed well everyday! Snacks alone won't sustain them. He knows this for sure.

So he's always cooking them up something, often wanting their opinion on the meals and sandwiches: are they too spicy or not spicy enough?

The same goes for your ghost types, too (especially if you have a Chandelure, Ceruledge, and/or Skeledirge on your team).

But after Kieran becomes the new champion and Crispin takes your rung on the League's ladder..he feels really awful and constantly apologizes for pretty much replacing you.

He should feel good about climbing closer to the top, but he doesn't, as he cried over the possibility of you hating him forever or resigning from the club because of him.

When you confronted him, he tried blaming the onions.

But your Gardevoir--one of the most emotionally-intuitive Pokémon out there--saw through his lie, and you had to reassure him he was still your friend.

You kept telling him you weren't mad....until you almost got mad fr because he wouldn't stop asking if you were 100% sure of that.

To prove it you, your psychic pokemon, and your ghost team all split one of the spiciest sandwiches he's ever made.

By the time it was finished, you were convinced you just learned the move Flamethrower.

Yet seeing that bright smile return to Crispin's face made it worth the agony.

Lacey

She loves hearing that you have a Gardevoir (or just cute ghost Pokémon in general).

If you have a Mimikyuu on your team, that's a plus in her book.

But regardless, she's the first to give you a warm welcome into the Elite Four, explaining the criteria and tests you had to pass in order to be accepted as a member.

Yet even outside of battle, she quickly discovers that your ghosts are still mischievous at best--always playing pranks on her fairies with moves like Phantom Force, Shadow Sneak, Astonish, and Poltergeist.

Ofc they never mean any harm, but when she hears Whimsicott squeal in fright, she's quick to come to its rescue and scold the perpetrator.

If you have a Gengar, it just laughs and mocks them both until it hears you roll up like "that wasn't very nice, y'know...apologize to Lacey and Whimsicott right now, please".

Even if it's a little defiant, a glare from Gardevoir or Hisuian Braviary is enough to make it relent and apologize.

Speaking of whom, seeing an ancient variant of Braviary did frighten Lacey upon first meeting them (especially with their hypnotic-looking faux flaming "eyes").

But over time she grows to like them, seeing how obedient and gentle they are with helping you get you around the Terarium.

If you have any decal on your chair, she'll suggest adding a few more things to make it "cuter". Like stickers of fairy types or a soft pillow for your back.

When you get demoted to the sixth rank in the League, she bought you those exact things to cheer you up, feeling bad that things turned out the way they did

But you expressed zero grudges towards anyone and appreciated her kindness.

Her Granbull always offers his tummy to you should you wanna rest somewhere--even though this makes Braviary a little jealous bc they're supposed to be your favorite resting spot.

Their rivalry is amusing, but Gardevoir often has to come to her fellow psychic type's rescue.

Meanwhile you're just sitting back and snickering at their banter, while poor Lacey begs you not to encourage this behavior.

Amarys

When you both first met, you found her personality rather off-putting, assuming she was doubting your capabilities of being an Elite Four Member despite passing all the tests.

She never seemed happy for you, her face always blank.

Growing up, a lot of people have pitied you, given you odd stares, or thought you would've given up being a Pokémon trainer...and some even asked outright insensitive questions about what happened to you--and seeing how Amarys acted kinda brought some of those ugly memories back to the forefront.

But once she realizes this, she apologizes straightaway for giving you such a bad impression, clarifying that she fully believes in your battling abilities.

Since then, you've formed a better friendship with her.

She asks you respectful questions about your wheelchair (ie if it's made from any strong alloys, how well it gets you around the Terarium's biomes, etc.) and how Gardevoir and Hisuian Braviary aid you in your daily life and listens well.

Learning that you actually battle with ghost types despite the misconception circulating around the school wasn't too surprising.

If anything, Amarys believes that was quite strategic on your part.

It's no wonder you have a lot of victories under your belt.

Even after getting demoted to the sixth rank, she's impressed you're still able to bounce back from such defeat..and that you didn't hold it against Kieran or anybody.

She believes he could learn a lesson or two from you and not take his loss against Florian/Juliana so hard...but knows that's not her place to speak.

#clanask #lotus anon #pokemon x reader #pokemon sv x reader #pokemon scarlet x reader #pokemon violet x reader #indigo disk x reader #pokemon drayton #pokemon kieran #pokemon crispin #pokemon lacey #pokemon amarys #gardevoir #hisuian braviary #disabled reader #headcanons

[plutoswritingplanet]

Enabler (Mark Hoffman x Female!Reader)

a/n: y'all missed me? i binged the entirety of the saw franchise while sick and... yeah.. f the police right?

Warnings: Non-Con (like, fr, be warned, be safe), a lazy ass idea for a Jigsaw trap, Workplace Crush heehee, Smut, Strahm's also here

Summary: You've survived a test, made for you by Jigsaw. As your two coworkers visit you in the hospital, Hoffman thinks back to that faithful night of your kidnapping. Cross-Posted on AO3.

Live or die, detective. Make your choice.

The mechanically distorted voice follows you through your journey to regaining consciousness. It's words flicker in and out of existence, as your eyelids flutter against the white light of the hospital room. Your eyes water and you groan, as the mixture of the night's events comes back to you in a wave of nausea and dull pain engulfing your entire body. Your fingers scratch lightly at the crispy white duvet, and you feel every single tendon in your hand flex, earning another groan from you. 

There's a steady sound of beeping present in the room. It makes your brows furrow slightly. It must've been really bad, if they had you hooked up to a heart monitor. You don't really remember just how bad it was, your mind flickers to the moment you slid your hand into the metal box and then... Pain, so much pain, and the smell of blood that follows you like a phantom even in the pristine light of the hospital room.

- Thank God you're awake. - a voice brings you back from beneath the surface, a familiar one, laced with inexplicable worry. 

You force your eyes to open all the way. Bright light attacks your pupils and you can't bring your arm up to shield yourself, even if you tried. Pain, bordering on tearing, floods your system whenever you try to force your upper limbs to work. Tears form beneath your eyelids and you blink forcefully to distribute moisture across your eyeballs. 

There are two men in your room, and even their blurred sillhouettes are enough to let a wave of relief wash over you. 

 One standing by the foot of your bed, towering over the entire space, even with the slight hunch in his back. The other one sits by your side, hands fiddling with the edge of a green blanket the hospital staff must've left for you. Even with the grogginess of sleep still hanging onto you, you immediately notice the sudden lack of his wedding ring, which he usually kept on. Perhaps he's just washed his hands. On instinct, your head rolls over towards the sitting man, and your lips pull back into a tired smile of recognition. 

- Hello ladies... - your voice doesn't sound like a voice at all.

It's hoarse, barely recognizable, sounding more like a huff of wind going through rusty machinery. Still, Special Agent Peter Strahm lets out a puff of air, tension sliding off of his shoulders as if a tangible weight has been lifted from them. Your eyes shift downwards, towards his hands, and you watch as his fingers twitch, so close to grabbing yours, yet deciding against it at the last minute. 

God bless professionalism, you think bitterly, before straightening your head on the pillow and looking towards the other man.

Detective Mark Hoffman watches you intensly from the foot of your bed, his expression unreadable, as he takes in the sight of you. Face almost washed out of any color, sunken cheeks and eyes, lips so close to blue it's almost making him pity you. Almost. 

Then, there are the bandages. Starting at both of your palms, running up and up, all the way towards your elbows, where your skin peaks at him from under the hospital gown. They've managed to stop most of the bleeding, but he can see clear as day, specs of drying blood showing through the cloth, creating a contrast that's strangely hypnotizing. He doesn't want to imagine how your arms look underneath. Doesn't need to, he has seen those wounds first hand. Both after you were rescued... And before that. 

- How long have I been out? - you ask after a moment of silence, your voice regaining a bit of your usual color. 

Mark opens his mouth, but it's Strahm who answers you first. The Detective bites down on a scowl. He was never too interested in literary heights, but even he must admit there is something poetic about the both of them crowding around your bed, while you lay there, stricken by tragedy. It makes him feel ridiculous. You make him feel ridiculous. 

- Two days - Strahm supplies, his eyes flickering around your face, the bed, the medical apparatus - You've been unconscious most of the time, lost a whole lot of blood. 

To that, you scoff, or laugh, neither of them are sure. Of course you've lost a lot of blood. That was the point of the game, wasn't it? To bleed yourself dry. And supposedly some important life lesson was also hidden in there, but after five minutes of pissing blood from your veins into a beaker, you really must've lost it in translation. 

- Fuck... - you sigh, slowly trying to move your muscles under the covers.

You try to lift your hand towards the bedside table, where a water bottle with a straw is waiting for you, but your hand starts to shake so badly, you have to give up. Oh, you hated this. This feeling of helplessness. That's when Hoffman springs to action, closing the distance between himself and the other side of your bed. He snatches the bottle from the table like a man on a mission, and places the straw right at your lips. 

- Thanks - you mutter, eyes connecting with his for a split second, before focusing all your efforts on drinking. 

You don't remember water tasting this good, and as you swallow, you let yourself hum with delight. After a while, the bottle is finished, and Mark dutifully places it back on the table, debating whether to shuffle back to his original place, or to somehow stay here, looming over you as there was no chair for him to sit in. You decide for him, patting the side of your bed and attempting to shift your legs a little, to make more room. He takes the hint and plops himself right next to your foot, his hand coming up to grab at your calf reassuringly. Immediately after that, all reservations seem to leave Strahm, as his hand slides over yours in a warm embrace.

If you weren't so goddamn tired, you would've laughed. Two manly men, fighting like a bunch of petty schoolgirls. Your chest swells with something dangerously close to affection. Quick, someone call for the doctors to bring back professionalism into the room. 

- Do you remember anything from that night? - Hoffman asks with slight tension in his voice.

- Is this really the best time to be asking this? They've barely woken up - Strahm's always close to outrage when Hoffman's around, and you silence him with a slight shake of your head.

- It's fine, I can talk - you mutter, brain already working overtime, as you think hard on every single detail from your recent kidnapping.

- I called you.

Your eyes focus on Hoffman, and you can see his jaw shift under his skin as he swallows. His lips twitch into a small smile, but you can see worry settling heavily over his brows, as he looks over the bandages on your arm, his thumb rubbing circles into the skin of your calf through the blanket. 

- That you did. - and at the time, it almost startled him to death.

***

The puff of smoke you let out flows into the night air of the city, as you lean your head against the cool wall of the restaurant. You're dressed a bit too elegantly, too much like a costume of a successful woman, with skinny heels and too big of a coat. 

Hoffman watches with unreserved fascination the way neon lights illuminate the column of your throat. Hidden in the shadows of his car, finally he can watch you without the confines of his professional reputation restraining him. Only if for a fleeting moment, before he has to put on the mask and fulfill his other duty.

 Still, his eyes glide greedily over your body, dolled up specially for this fancy dinner with your highschool "friends". You've been buzzing around the station for almost a week now, complaining about this particular meeting, and every time you've mentioned it, Hoffman was making plans. All he had to do, was wait until you were ready to leave. He was certain, you would like a long, calming walk after this whole spectacle. You always did those, whenever a particularly hard hitting case appeared. 

Another puff of smoke, and you reach towards the pocket of your coat, fishing out your phone and flicking it on. His eyebrows raise in curiosity, as he watches you dial a number and place the device between your shoulder and your ear. Your hand reaches down to loosen the strap on your heel, and Hoffman is so transfixed by your display of calculated clumsiness, he almost flies from his seat, when his phone starts to ring in his pocket. 

Your number is displayed proudly next to your name, and he blinks a few times, before answering.

- Hoffman speaking.

- It's me - your words are slightly slurred, and from his hiding spot he can see the smile forming on your painted lips. 

- Did something happen? Why are you calling me? - he asks, trying to sound as bored and tired as he possibly can, while fighting off the sudden jolt of adrenaline surging through his body. 

He sees you straighten out against the wall, finally giving up on the strap of your heel. Then he hears the shuffling. And laughter, a short chuckle that sends something swirling in his stomach. 

- I'm fine, I'm fine... I just... - you hesitate, hand coming up to tug at the roots of your hair, before taking a long drag from your cigarette, irresponsible, Hoffman thinks - I just wanted to hear a voice of someone who's not a complete asshole. 

His laugh comes out in a huff, and it seems contagious enough to make you chuckle as well. If only you knew on how many layers you were in the wrong. Perhaps you'll find out someday, most likely not. Not after tonight. 

Still, the sheer notion of you calling him of all people. Calling him instead of your favorite Special Agent even. There's a feeling dangerously close to pride climbing up Hoffman's chest, and he has to swallow it down, before he does something stupid. Which, in this case would be not doing anything. He has to remind himself, why this whole situation is taking place, and all feelings of flattery turn to ash in his mouth. His eyebrows furrow. 

- I take it the dinner isn't going well.

- Oh it's fucking terrible - you shake your head in frustration - I don't really care about what they say, I just want to eat food. Which, as it turns out, is a lot to ask for at a dinner party. 

- Want me to come over? - he asks, hand playing idly with the black synthetic hair of his pig mask.

For a second, you seem to be actually considering it, and Hoffman would lie, saying it didn't make something swell up in his chest again. Dangerous, very dangerous. 

- Nah - you sigh, before throwing a long, disgusted look at the door to the restaurant - Give me permission to ditch them. 

He doesn't hesitate to engage in this short, familiar dance of yours. 

- You have my permission to ditch them.

Another sigh, then a wave of giggles. Your expression in the neon lights looks almost affectionate. Hoffman reaches for the chloroform bottle.

- Thank you - is this a blush Hoffman sees on your cheeks, or is it just his mind supplying what he wishes was true, who's to say - For the talk and everything. I'll see you at the station. 

- Good night, Detective.

He disconnects with one hand, while the other wrestles the mask over his face.

 You don't even notice, when he slips behind you, with a chloroform cloth in his palm. It takes a couple of seconds of wrestling, but it still makes him pretty worked up, in more ways than he has anticipated. There is no screaming, for which he is grateful. Your body is strong against his, as you give him all you've got, trying to shake his much larger frame. Your heel digs painfully into his foot, as you slam it down, and he fights back the urge to scream. You can't hear his voice, it would be too telling. While his one hand presses the cloth to your face, the other tries to contain the flurry of panicked punches you throw his way. 

The way you wriggle against him shouldn't really affect him that much, hasn't affected him with any other victims. But the sheer fact it's you he's overpowering, seems to be enough. He balls the cloth in his hand sticking it further down your mouth, and shudders at the feeling of your teeth dragging against his leather gloves. 

A muffled scream is all that you have left, as your hips buck into his forcefully, hands scratching down his forearms. His breathing heavily behind you, watching with mixed emotions as, finally, consciousness leaves you.

 You fall down in a heap at his feet, to which Hoffman has to admit, he has never felt so powerful. There's blood on your stiletto and a perfectly round hole in his shoe. He grunts in annoyance at the prospect of having to hide a limp for a couple of weeks. 

Getting your lifeless body into the trunk of his car is laughably easy. 

***

- So you didn't see who attacked you? - Hoffman clarifies, and you nod solemnly. 

His hands flex, your leg underneath his palm twitching slightly. Strahm sighs heavily next to you, his head hung low, as he massages your fingers so gently, it's almost as if he's afraid you'll break under his touch.

 You appreciate that, him leaving his bad cop persona on the hanger by the door. Still, between his tactful worry and Hoffman's stressed twitchiness, one of you has to be the stern policeman. And it seems this time the honor falls on your shoulders. So, you wiggle in your place, rising into a sitting position. The suddenly stern expression seems almost foreign on your sunken face, a caricature of a person you used to be. No, scratch that, you still are. This is the one thing you won't allow Jigsaw to corrupt. 

- He's strong though - you say, eyes glued to the edge of the green blanket, as you focus on all the sensations from the night of your attack - Uses chloroform to sedate his victims. 

- Kramer? - Hoffman asks and you immediately shake your head. 

- I can take a dying cancer patient. That man was healthy, fucking gigantic and... - your eyebrows furrow - He caught me by surprise right after we ended the call. 

Hoffman looks like he has something else to say, but he swallows thickly, his palm pressing further into your calf. You try to give him a reassuring smile, convince him, that it's alright. It falls flat against his tense expression, and you know deep down, he feels guilty for not talking to you longer, not checking up on you. He shouldn't, but it's just the way he works. And you appreciate it. 

He's enjoying himself far more than he would've anticipated, listening to you talk about him without actually knowing anything.

He likes the way your entire face scrunches in focus, trying to remember anything of note, while he's sitting right here, right in front of you. Perhaps he's becoming an adrenaline junkie? All thanks to you. Yes, he thinks, eyes gliding over your disheveled hair, you're absolutely the enabler here, and you don't even realize that. 

Even after what he put you through.

His jaw tightens at the thought of you never actually learning from this special, intimate experience he has concocted just for the two of you. Haven't you heard the tape? Or perhaps you're just too goddamn dense to comprehend the lesson. As he looks into your doe eyes filled with pity and misguided understanding, he's beginning to think the latter's the case. 

- And after that? - Strahm is still careful, as if you are some startled animal, and Hoffman huffs through his nose, letting some of his bubbling anger out. 

You visibly shudder, and while on the surface both men have the same, worried reaction, Hoffman feels as if he's ready to run a marathon. You're scared, scarred forever by him, and yet here you sit, unaware. Letting him pet your leg like some goddamn pet. Good thing Kramer doesn't actually know how to read minds, otherwise Hoffman might end up in a trap himself for just thinking about you. 

- I woke up in a chair - you answer after a while, your voice numb and emotionless.

That won't do, Hoffman thinks, eyes burrowing into your skull, as if he wants to drill a hole and look straight into your brain. He wants you crying, unconsolable, changed. That carefree, light persona you've been flaunting before him since the moment you've arrived at his station. He wanted it gone. 

- My legs were tied, and my wrists were hanging down from the armrest. There were boxes underneath, with buttons... 

Suddenly, you head snaps up, eyes fiery and filled with righteous fire none of the men expected. Hoffman thinks, for just a second, that something has clicked in your mind. Something that would unmask his entire operation. The thought excites and terrifies him at the same time and subcontiously, he throws a quick look towards Strahm, who's too absorbed in your statement to pay him any mind. 

- He was checking the restraints when I woke up - there is something in your voice, something that makes Strahm lean closer in his chair, something that keeps Hoffman from breathing too deeply, because deep inside he knows what comes next - I think this whole thing can be psycho-sexual.

There. You can hear the pin drop, as your words register in the men's brains. 

- How...? - Strahm starts, but you cut him off harshly.

- He got hard while tying me up.

Silence. 

Only the beeping from the medical apparatus can be heard in the room. Strahm closes his eyes, bracing himself for the next question he has to ask. Hoffman on the other hand is becoming redder and redder under the collar of his shirt. How far will you go with your story?  

- Did he...? - Strahm swallows, cutting himself off.

Hoffman leans forward, as if he wants to pull the answer from between your teeth himself.

Did he? You're avoiding both their gazes, eyes flickering between your bandaged arms, something darker settling over your features as memories flood you. Did he? Hoffman's hand clamps itself down onto your calf, you can feel all five fingers digging into your flesh. How much will you tell, how much are you willing to share with your darling Special Agent? With him? Hoffman feels his chest tighten, every breath becoming more and more shallow. You, on the other hand, inhale slowly, deeply, then exhale.

- He didn't. 

Hoffman wants to laugh. 

***

He tightens the restraints on your left arm, when you start to rouse from sleep. Your head lolls to the side, cheek pressing into his arm. He freezes in his spot, one hand flying towards his face to secure the pig mask over his features. Silence hangs heavily between the two of you, cut only by the quiet groans coming from your waking body.

 Transfixed, Hoffman watches the way your lips seem to hang slightly open, lipstick smeared, mascara running, staining his shirt, as you all but rub your face against his shoulder. You look lovely like this, so vulnerable, with your face mushed against him. Nothing like the headstrong, strudy woman he's come to know over the short time you've spent at his station. 

Were your superiors aware of what they were doing? Sending some pretty young thing, straight from the academy, eyes still shining with ideals, all the way into the heap of corruption that was his city? And right in the middle of the biggest serial killer case the world has ever seen. They must've known you were doomed to fail. The narrative was never on your side, no matter how hard you tried to deny it. 

- Mmm... - finally, he can hear your voice get clearer, still groggy from the chemicals he has pumped into your neck - Mark...

He nearly jumps at the sound of his name. Thoughts run rampant through his skull, heart beating so hard, he's scared it will fly right out of his chest. Have you recognized him? He made sure to leave all traces of the Detective Mark Hoffman at the door before starting this. It was impossible, he did everything right. 

Your head rolls back against the backrest of the chair, your throat exposed to the world, to his hungry eyes. Your pulse runs rampant through your veins, and Hoffman feels a sudden urge to rip your trachea out with his teeth. Or, press an open mouthed kiss behind your ear, he can't seem to decide.  

- Oh, Mark... - a moan slips from your lips, and this time, he fully comprehends what is happening.

The realization runs past his brain and straight to his crotch. With shaking hands he reaches for a leather belt, and forcefully pushes it into your mouth, causing your eyelids to flutter.

Finally, your eyes start to open. Pretty eyes, he thinks, especially now that they're surrounded by dark stains from your mascara, glossy and unfocused. You writhe in the chair, as if you're waking up from a wonderful nap, arms straining against the restraints when you try to stretch. Then, your body freezes, realization that something is terribly wrong settling over you in an almost visible shadow. 

Panicked, you turn your head towards him. Tears flow freely down your cheeks, and Hoffman flexes his fingers. The urge to rip his mask off, to show you who he really is grows in him like a tumor.

 Oh the look on your face would be something for the history books. Your favorite grumpy detective, your best work buddy. Would the truth about his identity crush you? He liked to think it would. He liked to think it would suck any will to live right out of you. 

He wanted to have that power over you.

Hoffman drinks in your terrified expression like a man parched. The confusion between your eyebrows, the click in your jaw, when you realized you've been gagged, the way your eyes find him in the darkness of the room. It's almost too easy to let himself be enchanted by the way you look, so different from your usual appearance. 

Where is that young profiler teasing him about his gruff exterior any chance they get? He could never decide whether he wanted to kill you or fuck you in these situations, hiding his frustrations behind an exasperated eyeroll, or a smile if he felt generous. 

Right now, he can't decide either, as you begin to move in the chair, tugging at the belts holding your limbs down, scanning the room behind him, You're smart, he knows and despises that with his whole heart. Because if you weren't, he could just write you off as a naive, stupid girl, who doesn't know her place. But he can't, which means everything you've done, you've been doing intentionally, and the thought boils him from the inside. 

Your gaze falls towards the boxes under your hands, the slits in the armrests, where stainless steel blades reflect the light from a singular lamp. And the beaker, right in front of you, ready to be filled. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what you're supposed to do, and you give out a pathetic whine, which Hoffman immediately commits to his memory.

Killing you is out of his hands now. The game has been set, and the outcome rests solely on your trembling shoulders. The second part however... 

His eyes rake across your entire body, taking in the elegant blouse, which is now stained and torn in a couple of places. The tight pencil skirt you've chosen for the dinner, and how it has ridden up your thighs. Your stockings, torn on your knees, where you fell to the floor. And those damned stilettoes, one of which still has his blood on it's heel . Which reminds him...

Hoffman steps in front of your chair, your eyes following him cautiously. He can see thoughts run rampant through your head, searching for a way to get out, trying to determine his intentions, anything that might be helpful.

Well, good fucking luck Miss Profiler. 

He kneels down in front of you, taking a hold of your calf in a manner so gentle he's surprised himself. The leather gloves on his fingers make the task of unclasping the small belt around your leg a hassle, but he doesn't falter. You two have all the time in the world.

Figuratively speaking. He needs to be out of here in half an hour. 

The heel slips from your foot and Hoffman lets out a barely audible chuckle, as he's greeted by neon pink nail polish. 

Professionalism, you would remind him every single time, whenever he even dreamt of coming closer to you. It was infuriating, the way you led him by his nose, coming to work in the tightest of clothing, swaying your hips like the place belonged to you. And then, you would walk past him with a laugh and wink at Strahm of all people, when you thought he wasn't looking. 

His hand splays out all across your calf, a touch so unexpected, he feels your muscles jump under his fingers. All your focus shatters immediately, as his second hand joins the other, running up and down your leg, stopping just short of your thigh. Realization hits you like a ton of bricks, and he follows your line of vision straight to a very visible problem brewing in his trousers. Mentally, he scolds himself for loosing control so easily. 

If Kramer could see him now, he'd shoot him on the spot. 

But then again, maybe not. After all he agreed to let Hoffman orchestrate this entire game, and then allowed him to carry it out, despite his connections to the victim. You could never guess with that old bastard, and for that, Hoffman is eternally grateful. 

Your body twitches in the chair, as he finally drags his hands higher. You squirm, leather gloves feeling foreign on your skin.

He knows, he knows, he wants to coo at you from under the mask, swallowing the urge with a sigh. You can't hear his voice, he reminds himself, almost too enraptured by the heat radiating off of your body.

He continues to massage your leg, fingers hooking into the torn material of your stocking, pulling at it, tearing it further in an agonizingly slow pace. Almost as if he wants to watch closely as the fibers give away. Then, in a sudden change of pace he rips them entirely apart, until they fall in strips of sheer fabric on the chair.

A gasp escapes you, and you spring into action, legs clamping shut in an instant. You're fast, but Hoffman is faster, and he wedges both his hands between your shaking thighs. It takes little to no effort to open you up again, and he leans down, squeezing his torso between your knees. 

Time freezes for a moment, as the both of you watch each other closely. Your chest is rising and falling in rapid succession, as fire begins to brew in your eyes. Hoffman leans even closer, hands skimming just short of your core, as they forcefully drag your skirt up. 

God, he loves this look on you. The heat, the anger, the swirling desire. Because he can clearly see the way you take in his frame, unknown to you yet so familiar. Were you able to decipher some familiarities? At this point he can't seem to care, he's so close to his reward. 

Touch me, and I'll kill you, your eyes scream at him.

If you kill me, I'll drag you down with me, the dark holes of his mask seem to reply.

Two forceful tugs and the material of your underwear tears from your body. Cold air makes you uncomfortable, yes, but it's nothing compared to the stillness of the man before you. He stares, intensely, for a moment completely frozen in his spot. You can hear deep, heathing breaths coming from the rubber mask and wonder what is going through this strange man's head. For a second you're actually worried this will be the end of it. As much as you hated what was happening to you right now, you would hate it much more, if you were left wanting. 

Your worries are disproved in a split-second, as gloved fingers wiggle their way into your core. They take you apart, delicately at first, as if the man before you is trying to commemorate your every nook and cranny to memory. This slow exploration twists into adoration in your mind, as you fight off an onslaugh of shivers deliciously running down your spine. You huff, muscles tensing at the intrusion. Despite your growing wetness, the man in front of you has some real thick fingers, made even bigger by his leather gloves. 

He turns his masked head to the side, and you desperately want to know what he's thinking. Your head rolls back, as you bite down on the leather belt in your mouth. Eyes closing, your mind starts to wander into places you're too ashamed to acknowledge. 

God, you're sick. Thinking about your much older coworker in this beyond fucked up situation. But your mind has already supplied you with images of him rolling his sleeves up. His eyes following you around the room when he thinks you don't pay attention. Lingering touches that burn through your clothing. Oh, how much you reveled in the attention, how you stored all those small moments in your mind, just to bring them up in the privacy of your home. 

Perhaps you deserve to be put in trap, perhaps this is your lesson. Discovering the depths of your depravity. 

With a deep sigh, Hoffman pushes his finger in, as far as it can go, and your hips nearly fly off the chair, bucking into his palm. The sound you make bounces off the walls of the room, surrounding him in an echo of your cracking voice. Then, he starts to work you, adding a second finger until you wail through your gagged mouth. His entire arm is put to work, body pressing incredibly closer, as he soaks in your face twisted in pain and pleasure. 

This is so much better than what he imagined. And he has had quite the imagination, from the moment you appeared in his life. All the times he would zone out during a meeting, letting you talk to Strahm about a new discovery in the case, while he let his mind wonder. It was torture, pure and simple. There were points where he couldn't be left alone in his office without his pants tightening. Horrible, awful feelings, all of which were your fault. 

His fingers curl into you, and for a second you swear you can see stars flying across your vision. He notices the sudden change, and doubles the efforts at hitting thet exact spot over, and over again until your legs start shaking. His leather-clad thumb presses tightly into your bundle of nerves, bordering on overstimulation. While his right hand brings you closer to your release, his left one grabs every inch of flesh it can find, fondling with your breasts, squeezing your throat, playing with your blushed cheeks. The rubber of the pig mask is cold against your collarbones, as the man presses his weight to your front, as if he wants to bury himself into your chest.

No one can hear your screams, no one except Hoffman, and he commits every note to memory. Then, your voice snuffs out completely, as your entire body tenses so much, he's actually concerned you'll free yourself from the binds. Your release sneaks up on you and seizes your body in a sudden chokehold. For a moment, you can't breathe, teeth grinding against each other. God, it's been an embarrassingly long time ago since you've had even a resemblance of an orgasm like this one.

Hoffman feels wetness cover his entire palm, coming towards his arm. You're breathing heavily, when he slides his fingers out of you, the leather gloves shining with a souvenir of your altercation. He straightens himself above you, knees cracking as he does. Then, for a moment he just stands there, his shoulders rising and falling heavily, as he huffs under the mask. With heavy eyelids, you watch, as the man lifts it ever so slightly. Your vision is blurry, but your stomach still does a flip, when you see an outline of his tongue darting out to taste you. Then, the mask is back all the way on, and the reality of your circumstance becomes clear once again. 

To his credit, he gives you a couple of minutes to gather yourself, as much as you can in this situation. Cold air makes you squirm in your spot, as you feel the stickiness of your release coat your thighs. Then, the man produces a small casette player from his pocket, presses start, and throws it between your still open legs. He's out of the room before the recording even starts and you're left alone to fight. Or to die. 

***

- When I've put my hands in the boxes and pressed the buttons, knives came out from the armrests - you recount, voice steady despite the chills running up your back. - I had to fill the beaker with my blood, then the restraints would give away and the door would open. 

- What was your lesson about? - Hoffman asks, a certain smugness to him, one, that makes you shift in your seat. 

For a second you were worried, that he deduced what has truly happened from your expression. Perhaps he could read minds, and he discovered you've been thinking of him, while getting off on Jigsaw's apprentices hand. You had to physically shake your head to banish the thought. It was hard enough to look him in the face without impossible scenarios looming over you. 

- The tape hasn't been recovered? - you ask with a tightness to your voice.

- It has, but I haven't listened to it yet - a lie. 

A big, fat, fucking lie, and both him and Strahm know it. The other man turns to him with clear confusion, but Hoffman doesn't bother even acknowledging him. He's too invested in that delicate, blooming fire, which starts to eminate from your eyes. The same flame he has seen back in that room, where you looked at him like you wanted to devour him whole. And you don't even know it.

- He said - you swallow, and Hoffman follows the movements of your throat greedily. - He said I was an enabler, that I bring out the worst in people - another swallow, your gaze never faltering, and Hoffman feels his mouth run dry - That I revel in other's misery. 

- That's not true - Strahm jumps towards you, ready to reassure, to be the gentle hand you undoubtedly need.

- I stabbed the fucker in the foot with my stiletto - your voice breaks, and Strahm pulls away with an unreadable expression.

- And one more thing...

Hoffman turns fully towards you, hands running up and down your calf, as if he's trying to massage the memories back to your brain, make you think of how you fell apart on those exact fingers. The thrill of having you here, so close to the truth is unlike anything he's ever felt. 

- I know what he smells like.

Admittedly it's a small thing, an inconsiderable detail, that will most likely help no one. Still, the sheer tone of voice in which you've said it forces Hoffman to make a detour to his house, between the hospital and the police station. There, he takes a black garbage bag and throws away every single piece of cologne he can find in his house. 

Except one. A small sample he remembers using that very night. He stores it in his cupboard, right next to his bed, a small reminder of what has transpired between you both. Balancing his work life and his secret identity has never been easy, but now... He's almost tempted to throw it all away if it means looking into your tear stained eyes again. 

#mark hoffman x reader #saw x reader #mark hoffman #woop woop thats the sound of the police #woop woop thats the sound of the beast #my writing #saw franchise #saw

[fuckmyskywalker]

"Stuffed." — Darth Vader.

— CW: 18+, smut! Cockbulge. Noncon. Objetification. Dirty talk. Vader has an 11 inch dick because I say so. Maybe he is OOC but I don't care. | Word Count: 0.8k (not proofread!)

— List of films! | Taglist.

“How does it feel?” He asks in that monotone, modulated voice of his. His gloved hand presses down on the bulge on your belly, using the other one to grip your hair and force your face to stare at his mask. 

“B–Big.” You sob, squirming and trying to move a single inch. His size already dwarfs you, but the size of his cock is a whole different story. Deep inside you, you swear to the Heavens it is touching your throat.

“That’s what a cocksleeve like yourself is made for.” Vader breathes out, his voice cold and emotionless as always. It has been an order to keep your Lord’s cock inside you, warm and still— that’s what he wants and that’s what you must do. “Tell me how much you love it when I fuck you like this.” You don’t in fact, you hate it— or at least you try to convince yourself you do. After receiving the same rough treatment daily you realized it… it can be better than death. Sometimes when Lord Vader is feeling benevolent, he will allow you to come but normally you aren’t allowed to. He can be nice when he wants to, of course; you just need to encounter him in a good mood (or a less bad mood) and not push his buttons. His cock isn’t nice, and it certainly doesn’t feel nice— reconstructed to be more practical than pleasurable, and too big to be enjoyable. Whatever sick enjoyment he gets from fucking you, you sure as well don’t share it. 

Your brain works automatically but your body seems to fight against it, either way, you speak: “I love your big cock inside me, M–My Lord,” It is better for you to comply than to even try and bargain. It will make everything end faster. “You fuck me so good. I appreciate the privilege of having your cock inside my pathetic whore pussy.” As a “reward” his fingers tighten on your hair, making you whimper in pain and arch your back, your walls clenching involuntarily around him. 

It is hateful how your body enjoys the brutal attention. Are you that touch-starved? Perhaps he is right. You are nothing more than a whore who enjoys being used. Vader says that all the time; why would he lie?... you are alive thanks to him anyway. If he keeps repeating how worthless and useless you are and he still fucks you almost daily there must be something that he sees in your that not everyone can see— and you should be grateful for that, right?

You wish he would call you something else than insults, other than condescending, mocking pet names, anything. Your mind longs for a single complement, even a small one would work. But you know you are in no place to ask for something, and he is there to remind you. You know, he is right. You are stupid enough to forget he can read your mind. “You are my little fucktoy. If everyone else tries to touch you, I will cut their hands off.” Vader’s modulator distorts his voice but you can detect the slight huskiness and unsteady breathing. You affect him at least in the slightest, at least your body still has something good.

“Keep crying,” Vader speaks, letting go of your hair to grab your ass roughly, even his hand groping your asscheek makes you feel tiny. He lifts his hips, making you feel like he is pushing his cock even further, pushing the air out of your lungs. “Each tear only fuels my need to destroy you.” Like always, his words are harsh, not bothering to hide the possessive underlying tones that make your heart clench painfully. This is your destiny until he gets bored of you.

But Vader isn’t sure if he is ever going to be able to get rid of you.

You are the only one he has encountered— or more like kidnapped, that managed to fit his whole cock inside of their body. So he has to give credit when it is due. Your sobs overpower his loud breathing, squirming over his lap at the painful feeling of being abused by his massive cock. “It hurts! P–Please, please, my Lord—” Despite your protests, Vader doesn’t stop. With every thrust the bugle appears and disappears, giving him that twirl of control and dominance over such a weak, miserable creature like you. 

“I know it hurts, but you are my plaything.” His frigid voice makes you cry louder, fat tears of despair falling down your cheeks. You try to move away but that invisible force that you hate so much keeps you impaled on his cock; moving in between your merged bodies to circle your neglected clit. Even a cruel being like Darth Vader knows that he has to keep you lubricated or it will start to hurt him. “I decide how much pain or pleasure you feel.”

This is your life. There’s no escape. It doesn’t matter who you were before this moment; now, you are nothing more than a toy. A toy that only exists to obey, cry, feel pain and keep a cock warm.

“Plus… you said you loved it.”

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#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya writes! #𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 kinktober 2023! #dart vader #darth vader smut #darth vader x reader #darth vader x reader smut #darth vader x y/n #darth vader fic #darth vader imagine #darth vader fanfic #dart vader x reader smut

[bloodynereid]

Hello!! I am absolutely loving your R&R fic so far!! If you’re taking requests for more Jordan fics could you do one with a genderfluid reader who is so happy to meet another genderqueer character and they’re just so happy together and supportive? Maybe a cute coming out scene? I completely understand if that’s not something you’re comfortable writing though!! Have a nice day <33

Time and Space

pairing: jordan li x reader (sort of platonic)

tw: nothing really? slight mentions of homophobia, mentions of death, swearing - that's it i think

description: it's your first day at campus and something unexpected happens when you're trying to sort out your schedule.

a/n: ok so i'm not genderqueer myself (even if i do have my own gender things going on atm) so i genuinely hope this is written ok and respectfully. pls lmk if it isn't and i will change anything that needs to be changed. this is also more of a drabble than a one-shot but i hope you enjoy <333

You started picking your way through all the other freshmen that were joining God U. Your suitcase hit different little bumps in the path but you kept trying to make your way to your dorm. Your powers would be incredibly helpful right now but you really didn’t want to accidentally kill someone with how busy everything was.

Supposedly you hadn’t gotten a roommate this year since your application was accepted a little later than usual, a shiver travelled through your spine as you remembered that kid had to die just for you to have a place at this school.

Shaking off the remaining anxiety you finally got to the door that was meant to open your dorm. Clutching your hand on the handle and pushing, your room was opened up to you. It was huge. It probably wouldn’t have been as huge if there was another person living with you but holy shit.

You started going through the motions of unpacking your things and changing into much more comfortable clothes. The 4-hour flight had left your clothes itchy and slightly sticky. Smoothing down the leather of your trench coat, you walked back into the fray of students. 

You heard a chime from your phone and pulling it out you realized it was your schedule. You hadn’t really decided between Crime Fighting and Performing Arts but your powers dictated that the first one was probably the better option. You had the ability to distort or rather bend space, which wouldn’t really do much if you were doing performing arts. Plus you had the worst stage fright. A little note at the end read that you should go check in with Professor Brink’s TA as soon as possible so you had all the books ready.

Taking a deep breath you put up your hands and a second later you were standing in front of the Crime Fighting school. Your face twisted into a smirk as some people ducked away from your sudden appearance before you closed your eyes again and transported. This time you appeared in the little entry room outside of Brink’s office. 

Sitting at the desk was the person you assumed was Professor Brink’s TA. They had short black hair and she was wearing a long sleeve shirt. They must not have realized you had arrived in the little space because she was still typing away at her computer.

“Uh hi?” You said, breaking the complete silence of the room. The person jumped and looked up at you with a frown.

“Sorry, didn’t see you there. Can I help you with something?”

“Oh right, yes. My schedule said I should come check with you about Professor Brink’s class.”

“Hmm let me see that. I’m Jordan by the way.”

“Y/N. Wait… you’re Jordan Li?” Your mouth dropped, this was the person who had literally made you confident enough to actually come out to your parents. They were like the coolest person ever.

“Yes…” Jordan said tentatively as they looked up at you.

“Sorry, I just had a minor freak out. Holy shit, you’re just- you are a fucking inspiration is all.” You stuttered out, the obvious star struck look on your face had Jordan slightly chuckling.

“I don’t get that a lot but thanks. Oh ok yes, Y/N L/N… oh what pronouns do you prefer today?” Jordan asked as a brilliant smile crossed their face.

“Uh just they/them, I think today? It’s subject to change though.” You said as you laughed slightly.

“Totally understand that, it’s fucking awesome isn’t it? Also your powers sound incredible. How much control do you have over them?” Jordan asked hurriedly as she stood up and motioned you to sit over at the couch.

“Enough, so I’m not exactly at an expert level but I’m slowly building up to it. Your powers are so fucking cool as well. The way you just have a million different powers is spectacular.”

“Aww thank you, most people don’t look past the whole gender thing so…”

“Honestly fuck them, it’s a huge part of us sure but it’s no different than being like any other human being.” You said as you stretched out your arms and smiled. “Oh shit I totally forgot to ask but what are your pronouns today?”

“Uh they/she but… subject to change.” Jordan said lightly, slightly mocking your words with a smile.

“Oh fuck you.”

You spent the next hour discussing everything and anything, finding people who actually accepted and had similar beliefs to you was hard in recent years. Especially with being a supe as well. Jordan also helped you figure out your schedule and got you some extra books that would help with classes. By the end of the conversation, you felt like you had gained your first real friend at school.

ahhh ok lmk ur thoughts <3 also the reader's powers are called spatial manipulation (this is a link to the superpower wiki page if anyone is interested in reading more about it). also me actually being active wow.

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[alxtiny]

hello! saw you taking request and i have been wanting a yunho scenario (angst/soft smut n fluff ending) with plus size! reader. wherein y/n is a graphic designer and has been experiencing insecurities with all the models she's editing for work... sorry english is not my first language. thank you 🤍

Design | Jeong Yunho x reader

Synopsis: where yunho helps you forget your insecurities

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x graphic designer!reader, domestic au

Genre: smut, fluff

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: heavy smut, afab reader, no use of protection (wrap it before you tap it guys), piv, multiple orgasms, minimal dialogue MINORS DO NO INTERACT

Notes: I’m sorry for taking this long this is my first smut 😭😭😭 i hope you like it

masterlist

In the dim glow of the computer screen, you meticulously crafted characters for a new project. As you worked, your eyes flickered between your design and the models on the screen. Each stroke of the digital pen seemed to highlight your own insecurities, magnifying the differences between yourself and the designs you created. No matter how much time you spent creating realistic bodies, perfect faces, and exquisite clothing, you still couldn't not compare them with your body or face. 

"Why can't I look like them?" you whispered, her voice barely audible in the quiet room. You compared your curves to the slender figures on the screen, your fingers tracing the outline of your own body almost unconsciously. Doubt crept in like a shadow, casting a pall over your confidence."How could something have such an appealing figure? What is wrong with me?"You sighed heavily, knowing you were being silly.

Meanwhile, Yunho noticed the change in your demeanour. He approached you, his eyes filled with concern. "Hey, what's going on?" he asked gently, his voice like a soothing melody in the midst of your turmoil.

You looked up, your eyes reflecting a storm of emotions. "I just... I feel so inadequate compared to these models I'm editing. They're perfect, and I'm just..." your voice trailed off, the unspoken words hanging heavily in the air.

Yunho knelt beside you, his warm hand cupping your cheek. "You are perfect, just the way you are," he said, his sincerity cutting through your self-doubt. "Your uniqueness, your curves, they make you beautiful. Don't let these digital images distort your perception of yourself."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you stared into Yunho's brown irises, seeing nothing but love and acceptance. "But it's hard, Yunho. Every day, I'm bombarded with these unrealistic standards of beauty. How can I not compare myself?"

He gently wiped away your tears with his thumb, his touch grounding you in the moment. "I understand, Y/N. It's challenging, but you have to remember that real beauty comes from within. Your kindness, your talent, your passion – those are the things that make you truly extraordinary."

You nodded, taking in his words like a lifeline in the storm. "I just wish I could see myself the way you see me."

Yunho smiled, his eyes filled with adoration. "I see a strong, talented, and beautiful person who I love more than words can express. I see someone who inspires others with her creativity and passion. You are more than your insecurities, Y/N. You are enough, just as you are."

Unable to hold back any longer, you leaned forward, brushing your lips against his soft skin. "Thank you, Yuyu," you murmured, hoping the gratitude in your voice would translate.

Yunho's eyes fluttered closed as his head tilted to the side, inviting you to continue. For a few moments, all was quiet except for the faint sounds of the computer humming.

Then, he lifted your chin and kissed you tenderly. His gentle kiss stirred something inside of you, warming you from the inside out. "Mmm," he moaned softly, the sound catching your attention. “Maybe I should show you how I see you and your so called imperfections,” he whispered against your lips, pulling away slightly before kissing you again, this time deeper. He took you in his arms, wrapping you tightly against him, your fingers entwined in his hair as he deepened the kiss, slowly pushing you towards the bed.

When you felt Yunho’s firm hands caress your waist, your breath caught in your throat. Your heart pounded furiously in your chest as your senses heightened to the point where you felt everything around you. He pushed you down slowly, onto the bed, as his lips traveled from your lips to your jaw and neck, leaving little purple marks in their wake.

The taste of your skin intoxicated him, driving him wild as his tongue licked along your collarbone. His hands wandered downwards, moving in slow motion as if to savor each sensation. You squirmed beneath him, arching your back, inviting him to explore your body further.

At last, he reached the hem of the long shirt you wore, lifting it inch by inch until it was lying abandoned at your feet. You watched as he removed his shirt and pants, throwing them aside carelessly, leaving him in his boxers. He gazed down at you, his eyes darkening.

There was no need to ask; he knew exactly what you wanted. His mouth went further south leaving soft kisses and light marks on your torso. Reaching near your chest, he moved away, “ See, this is how much I love the way you look,” he whispered. you felt yourself become even more heated under his touch, a dark blush covering your face and chest.

As his mouth was once again on your skin continuing to move lower, licking and sucking at the sensitive skin of your stomach, you forgot all about your flaws. All you could think about was his soft lips trailing upwards now towards your breasts. You arched your back, allowing him better access to your stiff nipples.

His hands slid underneath the waistband of your panties, making contact with bare skin. He groaned at the feeling, “you’re already so wet for me…”

The gasp escaped your lips when his fingers found their way between your legs, massaging your swollen clit in circular motionswhile he sucked on your nipples. You moaned and arched into his mouth as your body trembled from pleasure.

Slowly he pushed two of his fingers inside your cunt. You had done this before but it still felt like a first. Your mind was reeling from lust and his rough touch. Your brain turned to mush. He kissed you again, nibbling at your neck, shoulders and earlobe, as he continued his ministrations, pumping his fingers faster and faster into you.

You whimpered, trying not to cry out too loud. You had to maintain some self-control or he would have stopped. Instead, you moaned, burying your face against his shoulder as your hole clenched around his fingers. The pressure began building. Your head was spinning and your cunt tingling as heat erupted through your entire body.

He looked at you as you gasped and tried to catch your breath. “You are so beautiful, I can’t have enough,” he said.

He kissed you passionately and sat back up to remove his boxers. “Climb up here, I want to see you…” His voice was full of passion and urgency.

Your fingers fumbled as you climbed onto his lap, sliding down until your soaked cunt was lined up against his cock. Your eyes widened despite knowing that he could easily fit inside like always. With your legs wrapped around his hips, he pulled you tight against his throbbing erection, enjoying the sensation. You slowly lowered yourself onto him and moaned. “That feels good…”. Yunho groaned in response, you slowly started to move.

As if reading your thoughts, he tightened his grip around your waist, holding you tightly in place as he thrust upwards, forcing his cock deeper inside of you, you bounced lightly on his cock trying hard to get a release.

Frustrated with the slow pace, he flipped you around, you shuddered at the new angle as he thrusted in and out of your cunt at an even faster pace, one hand gripping at the plush skin of your stomach . You cried out deep in pleasure, your hands gripping his biceps tighter and tighter and you cunt clenching around him uncontrollably. His other hand cupped your breast, pinching your nipple as he ground into you harder and harder. Sweat coated both of you as the heat built within each of you. Finally you couldn’t take anymore and screamed as you released all over his cock.

Yunho was breathing heavily now, his grip tightening even more as he forced himself as deeply into you as possible, his thrusts becoming erratic, and the pressure of his hand increasing, enough to leave bruises on your waist. It didn’t matter though, because you loved every bit of it. When he came, your cunt tightened and he buried himself as deep as he could go, painting your walls white. He slowly rode out his release, you felt your muscles relax as well, small whimpers escaping your lips.

When he finally collapsed on top of you, you laid there motionless, staring into his face, thinking how lucky you were to be with someone like him. He shifted slightly, bringing his hand down to cup your cheek, kissing you gently on the lips. “I love you, you are absolutely flawless,” he whispered, looking at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes. You giggled at his words, “I love you too Yunho, so so much.”

Kissing him tenderly, you felt him smile beneath your lips. Your heart fluttered and you relaxed, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer, wanting to stay right where you were forever, as you both drifted off to sleep.

© alxtiny . Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my works on any platform in any way.

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