#like from cartoon therapy

[total-drama-brainrot]

my total drama oc is a reversal of the show's pre-established "villain" archetype.

right off the bat, they're just the worst person; outright antagonistic towards everyone and constantly causing conflict amidst the cast, openly orchestrating people's eliminations, blatantly cheating but in such a way that technically they're not breaking any rules- without disguising themself behind a mask of geniality (like alejandro, heather and julia did).

and they're kept around well into the competition because their villainy? it's ratings gold. people love a good antagonist, especially one that's so productive. the audience loves to hate them, or hates that they love them, and everyone is gunning for their downfall- which only becomes more and more tempting with every elimination.

plus, chris is more than happy to enable them so long as they keep things interesting.

interestingly enough, they never seem to use the confessional. or at least, none of their confessions are aired. well, that's not exactly true. one confession is aired, and it's them boasting to the audience that they wouldn't understand the inner machinations of their mind, and that they don't deserve to hear their thoughts.

consequently, the audience has no idea what they're thinking at any given time, only seeing glimpses of their schemes throughout the episode until everything comes to fruition- like a puzzle finally being completed. it's a smart move for the network, because it means the audience gets to watch their plans play out in 'real time' without their insight/foreknowledge, making it just as impactful to the viewers as it is to the competitors. it helps with immersion, which is a boon for the ratings!

until their elimination, wherein their confessions are played out on the big screen, and it's heartbreaking.

they explain, in their first confession, that they were accosted by chris at the beginning of the competition to act as the main antagonistic force for the show, and that he's turn a blind eye to their antics so long as they kept the viewers watching, even paying them a decent salary if their act was good enough. because they're smart- smart enough to play the rest of the cast like a fiddle if they wanted to, and chris wants them to.

what a great deal, right? being given blanket permission to be as conniving as possible, and a pay check to boot- who wouldn't take the opportunity?

and they round it out by "getting into character" on camera, sneering haughtily at the lens and- you guessed it- boasting to the audience that they wouldn't understand the inner machinations of their mind, before giggling dorkily at the silliness of their statement, commenting that it'd we way too obvious they were faking if they acted that snooty. they're a theatre kid at heart, so the idea of "playing the villain" is exciting! it's going to be so fun!

but their second confession is sombre. they're visibly tired, wiping away at the concealer under their eyes to reveal some heavy bags, and they're curled up into a pitiful ball in front of the camera. they divulge that the pressure to constantly live up to the shows expectations of antagonism is crushing, and their status as a social pariah is more draining than they'd care to admit, and that- despite the apparent glee they've been committing these acts of villainy with- being so outwardly morally corrupt has left them with a constant churning of guilt in their gut. they only agreed to be the "bad guy" for the money, which would help their family's financial situation tremendously, but they're growing increasingly uncertain if the reward justifies the risks.

by the third confession, they're actively sickened by their actions, eventually devolving from airing their frustrations, lamenting their choice to method act as such an awful person, to throwing up into the confessional's toilet as they hold back guilt-leaden tears and repeat a mantra of "i'm sorry, i'm sorry,". they're drowning in the murky waters of their persona, and backing out now would only lead to more scrutiny and suspicion from the people who were supposed to be their friends, and they know they'd deserve the mistrust. plus, backtracking from their deal with chris would jeopardise everything- from the dirty money they've earned from their antagonism to their place in the competition itself; they'd be voted out in a heartbeat without the network's safety blanket of plot armour!

they don't know what to do. they barely even know who they are anymore.

and then the camera's focus cuts to the real-time them, who's sat ashen-faced and deathly still as their weakest moments are broadcast, not only to the people who rightfully hate them, but to the whole world.

#we've seen “charming persona villainous person” now get ready for “villainous persona poor little meow meow person” #it's like alejandro and julia's 'character arcs' but backwards. kind of. #instead of going from fake-nice to real-mean. they go from fake-mean to real-depressed. oops. #i think it's unrealistic to expect a ~16 year old to be some mastermind villain without it having some mental health consequences #plus being outright encouraged to be an awful person would be so so bad for anyone's sense of morality. not to mention the self-loathing-- #that's stems from both KNOWING you're a bad person and being ostracised by your peers because of such. #yet having no idea how to change for the better without putting everything you've worked for (everything you've suffered for) at risk #what i'm trying to say is. my total drama oc needs therapy and maybe a hug #it's giving kokichi ouma but with less self-sacrifice and more angst/self hatred #it'd be totally in character for chris to pay off the series' antagonist in a bid for more drama btw. don't even act like i'm wrong. #(it's happened in canon before with owen's mole arc in action!) #though ig this type of character wouldn't appear in a cartoon aimed at kids/tweens. #unless they're trying to teach their target audiences morality/the consequences of being a bad person? 🤔 #anyway- #total drama oc #ophe rambling #character analysis #sort of? more like character outline #love me some sympathetic villains!! #long post #feel free to ignore #is this too angsty for a total drama oc? idk 🥶

[basslinegrave]

h

im thinking about divorced sam and max and imagining how its just because theyre at a low because theyre getting old and its all too much and all too sudden and its not really a going distant thing and losing feelings but rather the worry of tying the other one down for so many years practically their whole lives so making a decision to split and stay just friends so to not take all freedom from the other but it doesnt work it just turns them very cranky and they eventually find their way back to one another cause they just cannot be apart nor with anyone else ans they cant have this work/friends only relationship they just have to talk it out and realize they both just want the best for one another but the best thing that happened to both of them Is the other and having one another and they simply cannot split. and thats where the another marriage happens.. i wonder how long they would be apart and if it would be abrupt or starting from stupid misunderstanding arguments

#longest sentence known to man #coping from ttiv again #i hate their shitty situationship there #prescription of 3 snm cartoon episodes could heal me #crying kitten exploding head gif my reaction to their banter in ttiv #the thing is its fine its just my brain being too focused on like 3 lines honestly. and the nausea i got while playing once that comes back #everytime i think about it. ttiv motion sickness ttiv situationship sickness. ugh they need to be dissolved in acid #this isnt for anything in particular since i cant write a fic or anything this is only my thoughts after seeing that divorce post #they divorced in the cartoon too but its fine <3 because they got back stronger than ever #and hey i love old man yaoi its just so weird seeing these two specifically as old. they need therapy more and more every year they age #thoughts are being thunk #dni. im just printing out a photo of them from ttiv tacking it to my wall and shooting a bb gun at them

[detentiontrack]

Rewatching lumity is making me want a girlfriend…..

#BAD Gus stop yearning #you know you’re not allowed to date right now #you know you have healing to do #STOP YEARNING #(and when I say Gus I mean myself and not Augustus Porter from hit cartoon the owl house) #Augustus Porter can yearn as much as he wants to #it’s me that has to get like 10 more years of therapy before dating again

[canon-transgender-virgil]

Alright so

I might be stupid.

Why, you ask? Well, because I literally only just now realized why Dr. Picani says "Do you how do?"

#alright im actually not 100% sure its from spongebob but i cant find anything earlier than the Pickles episode where someone says that so- #-Im assuming thats what its from #thomas sanders #dr picani #emile picani #cartoon therapy #also this could technically be written as angst because in this episode Spongebob goes on to say he feels like he cant do anything right

[thedreadvampy]

I fucking love my friend!!!!!!!

#red said #I've been staying with my friend since Thursday night #they are one of my two amazing trauma-bonded pals from way back when #the Gay Goth Goblin Gang #as we have renamed the groupchat since everyone came out #and we have just had a chill fuckin time. we haven't really done anything other than that they had a gig on Thursday #which slapped btw #since then we've just like. sat around. watched cartoons and Auntie Donna. listened to the Trump arraignment. #talked a wee bit about trauma and mental health #most of the time we're hanging out on the balcony while they smoke up #uhhhh we went to their friends house and watched dont hug me I'm scared. we went out for wings. i met their boyfriend #these sorts of things. super chill super low key. #anyway i am in my way to bed and i gave them a hug and thanked them for a lovely weekend and they said #'thanks it's been nice to have a couple of days free of anxiety' #and i just. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ i love them so much #tbh last time i saw them one on one (cause the three of us catch up most Christmases) i was kind of a mega ultra me #mess. like i had been in therapy for like 6 months and i was in the break it down phase of breaking myself down and building back up. #and we were smoking up with their friends and they were talking about a stag do they'd gone to back home that my ex had been at #and my ex. I have. Experiences. that I'm fairly sure my friend is unaware of or they would NOT have been talking positively about him #so last time we were hanging out i was attempting to hide a full blown ptsd attack while also trying to be Charming to Strangers #cause i wanted to talk to my friend about the thing that i was dealing with but i was too scared to 🙁 #this time has been REALLY nice. like super nice. #i haven't gone into close detail on anything but we've chatted broad strokes about a lot of both of our Shit #which is also what i found talking to our other bestie. we're all in a place where we can support each other without depleting ourselves. #and with enough distance from our teenage selves that we can joke about the whole nonces-hanging-around-14-year-olds thing #and in their case the violent homophobia thing #idk this is all getting really negative sounding but it's not negative!!!! i just love them!!!! #I'm really happy i made some time to come and just Be With My Friend for no reason with no structure other than Hang Out #it's nice!!!!!! i like them!!!!!! #also holy shit leeds has some good food

[pansyfemme]

i 💖 my therapist forever and ever

#ive been seeing him for six and a half yrs and i never get sick of that dude #he’s my second therapist ever. i HATED my first one and her practices but i was nervous to switch #since i was switching from a woman to a cishet white christan man in his 70’s. but he ended up being like way more accepting than i thought? #he’s wayyy old fashioned #he does both my meds and therapy twice a week which is pretty rare since usually ppl have to go to a second person for meds #he wears sweater vests and little glasses and has a white beard lol #he has one of those couches u see in cartoons in his office and writes in a little notebook #he is literally a therapist from a cartoon but he genuinly cares abt me #he gets me birthday and xmas gifts and i do the same for him. he remembers everything i talk about #and he listens really well even tho i have to explain a lot of trans stuff to him #when i told him i needed a letter for surgery he didnt even question it and his letter was so emotional and powerful it helped get me past #insurance way faster than i thought since i was underage. #i love him sm

[batz]

I remember seeing you post about that stuff back in like.. 2020, 2021. I hope ur doing ok and that things get easier for you

things are easier in some ways and still v difficult in other ways but im getting better at coping with everything i think. therapy Works and Helps somtimes actually lol

#frank.txt #i still cant answer the door and agoraphobia is rough to deal with. the stalking as made me too scared to like. Do That #even years after the breakup i am living in fear but like coping mechanisms do help! and therapy! and Cartoons n Fweindship lmao #still deal w phantom pains frm prev injuries too which is Rough but like. idk again Coping Mechanisms And Therapy Help! HDSJDH #one of those things im not gonna be healed from fr a while tho unfortunately but i am getting better in small ways n thats what matters ig! #also totally helps tht my therapist is trans and also has som chronic health issues like FINALLY a therapist who GETS IT #but ya idk thank u fr message of concern i am ok i think . still dealing w stuff but im ok! #ask to tag #abuse m #negative m #ptsd m

[drarrymylove]

i was on the phone with someone and there were lots of lulls in the conversation so i thought I'd just go of on a tangent about a scene from The Boys and a specific excerpt from Exquisite Corpse that refuse to pay rent for the amount of airtime they take up in my brain ... you know. to kill some silence. and the first thing he says in a good ten minutes was

did you ever call your insurance company about seeing a therapist?

#i definitely need therapy #it was the scene when black noir was hallucinating the cartoons #when he held that piece of his brain #I'm still not okay from that #yeah i need therapy but did he have to roast me like that?

[mr-ribbit]

a TV show where lin manuel miranda¹ rap battles a rude libertarian man* at the insane asylum talent show and by doing so the man* is finally able to win over his freedom from the asylum by going to therapy and being nice SOUNDS like a single or double panel strip in a boomer political cartoon thats readership is mostly ironic leftists posting them to roast on reddit. but it's actually a real part of an episode of house md from 2009² in what some could call one of the most generation defining television moments of the aughts (Ribbits 2024)

* Dr. Gregory House

¹ Pre-Hamilton

² Broken, Part 2 House MD, 2009

[shironezuninja]

I am THIS close in wanting to put my Old Man’s brain in an intercom like liquid jar! He got me traumatically prudish again, and the destruction of my environment has caused another breakdown offline.

#spider man #layouts #screenshots #hobby #habit #youtube #80s cartoons #lizards lizards everywhere #as lame as the 60s cartoon #sneezing #allergies #the lizard #allergic reaction #breaking down from Adulting #this is why I don’t like Spider-Man 2 #crying offline #traumatically prudish #i never asked for this #therapy art #overwhelmed #emotional #sneezy spidey #he sounds like the late Super Dave Osborne #ultimate Spider-Man voice actor sounds better than him #upset #autism and caretaker do not go well together. #angry #depressed #no appetite #unhappy

[xzaddyzanakinx]

My Best Girl

Stepdad!Anakin Skywalker x Femme Reader Oneshot

18+ MDNI

Warnings: domestic violence/abuse, non-con/dub-con, oral sex, emotional abuse, manipulation, gaslighting

Info: this is a graphic and accurate depiction of an instance of domestic abuse/non-con. Read at your own risk.

🕊dead dove do not eat🕊

“Don't lie to me," he snarled, his hands gripping your wrists tightly. "I saw you."

He leaned in closer, his ice blue eyes boring into yours, filled with pure undiluted jealousy.

"Tell me the truth." Anakin’s fingers dug into your wrists just like your knees dug into the tile of the kitchen floor.

You were sitting at the kitchen counter, having a wonderful little moment to yourself. A big tall glass of blue koolaid, your favorite snack and your comfort cartoon playing quietly on your phone for background noise while you worked diligently on repairing your younger brother Luke’s loth-cat stuffie.

The poor thing had been through the wringer this week; left all alone in the cold dark cubby overnight in his preschool classroom, ran over by Leia’s tricycle, and his undoing was being left unattended in the living room under the watchful eye of your family dog. The horrible shriek that pierced your ears was enough to burst your eardrums, you went rushing, hoping that you didn’t walk into a bloody mess.

Though the tantrum that ensued after his initial shock was more than enough to wish maybe just alittle bit that Leia had just wacked him upside the head with her toy doctor’s kit again.

You’d sworn on your life that his ‘only best friend’ would have his leg reattached and in it’s rightful place under his arm when he woke up tomorrow morning.

So there you sat, sewing his leg back on when your stepfather Anakin returned home from work. Covered in oil and grease from his day at the garage, he walked past the kitchen and gave you a wave and crooked smile. You gladly returned the gesture, your relationship with your stepdad had begun rocky, arguments and mean words exchanged on a daily basis. But now, months later, you’d finally begun to get along.

He was a good man, a good dad; it wasn’t his fault that he had a bit of an anger issue. He worked hard to keep it in check, attending therapy, taking CBD gummies, he even tried meditating.

You’d quickly come to realize that his anger was a front to hide his vulnerabilities. He was a horribly cocky and arrogant person outwardly. But inside, tucked away in a beat up box, was a messily stored collection of vulnerabilities and insecurities.

Anakin thrived on praise and affection, he was happiest when he was eight inches deep in your poor little fucked-out pussy. Bathing in the sounds of your babbled compliments, the sweet lilt of your whiny voice when you begged him for more. His favorite thing? The best compliment? The quickest way to reassure him of his worth? That was the devastatingly wet *shlck* of his cock sliding home between your thighs.

It never failed to astound him. The way your body responded to him, the way you were tucked under his thumb. When he was pounding into you night after night while your mother worked the late shift; that’s when he truly came to life.

You made him feel needed. Wanted. Valued. But most importantly? Worshipped.

There was nothing else like the rush of warm adoration he felt from every little noise your pretty mouth made. It flowed over his tired, work-worn body and soothed all his stress away. He needed it. He craved it. He had to have it.

You.

You were the only thing that mattered.

It would be an understatement to say that he regretted marrying your mother. Every second of every day he hated her more. She wasn’t you. She could never be you.

Divorce, the hours of research on annulments, laws and stipulations, the legality of things. He’d searched through it all. He had the best lawyer in the state on speed-dial. Set on retainer for the moment he saw his opportunity to snatch up his brand new trophy wife.

But it’s not exactly acceptable to divorce your wife of six months to run off with her freshly 18 year old daughter is it? No. But was he going to do it? Absolutely.

You were his good girl.

You were his good girl, til now.

Anakin crouched down in front of you, getting on your level somehow made you feel even smaller. Any other time you would’ve taken the time to admire his freshly washed hair that stuck to his forehead in little swoops, the scent of his cedar soap, his bare chest and that delicious V carved into his lower abdomen.

But instead all you could see was the hard line of his lips, his knitted eyebrows… he was trying so hard to be angry. But you could tell he was just in pain, those big beautiful blue eyes were holding back tears, and you so badly wanted to comfort him, to make him understand.

“Anakin. Please listen.” You pleaded with him, desperate to get him to hear you out.

“Oh? I’ve been listening.” He stood back up and grabbed your hair roughly, tilting your head back to force you into eye contact. “I just don’t believe what I heard.”

“Just look!” You said gesturing at your phone laying on the counter near him, the screen cracked. “Please just look at you’ll see.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. Seeing what I already know is there.” He scowled.

“Am I not good enough for you?” He hissed, shaking your head by your hair. “Is that it?”

Before you could even answer him he grabbed your jaw and pried your mouth open and shoved two fingers down your throat.

“That’s alright. You don’t deserve me anyway.”

Collecting your saliva on his digits, he removed his fingers and flicked the spit on your face, making you flinch.

“Not even gonna waste my spit on you.” His voice tinged with hurt under the grit of his anger.

Your eyes welled up with tears, never had he spoken to you this way. You never imagined that he was capable of being so mean. Of course he had his issues, you’d argued plenty before you both finally allowed the hands of fate to shove you into each other’s arms. But never like this.

“I come home from work, see you sitting all pretty and patient for me.” He starts, his voice low and dark.

“Then I come back from the shower, ready to hold and love and spoil you just like I do every night. I leaned in to give you a sweet little kiss and what do I see?” You weren’t sure if he wanted an answer, so you stayed silent and waited. Apparently that was the wrong thing to do.

“I asked you a fucking question.” He grumbled. “You were so eager to talk earlier, so fucking talk.”

“You saw me decline a phone call.” You said quietly, trying hard to keep eye contact with him through the blurriness in your vision.

“A phone call from who?” He prodded.

“My friend Tyler.” You answered meekly.

“Exactly.” He released your hair by pushing you backwards, causing you to catch yourself with your elbow right on the granite tile flooring.

Pain shot up your upper arm and wracked your body with a momentary spasm of tension as your brain tried to sort out this new pain. Extended your arm gently you breathed in relief that it wasn’t actually damaged, but you would definitely have a gnarly bruise.

Anakin had turned around, his back to you. One hand on the kitchen counter and the other ruffling his wet hair, shaking off water droplets as he did so.

“Why?” He asked, his tone quieter but no less menacing. “Why would you hang up like that if there wasn’t anything to hide?”

“B-because Ani, I was talking to you!” You tried to explain as you stood up and hesitantly stepped closer to him.

“Don’t.” He barked over his shoulder. “Don’t you fucking touch me.”

“I was- okay.” You said, backing away.

“Anakin I was just trying to focus on you that’s all. You’d just gotten home, I didn’t want to be bothered while I was spending time with you.” Your whisper sounded cracked, broken.

“Why is a boy calling you at 8:00 on a Friday huh?” He spun around quickly and grabbed your arm.

“They’re not a-“ You tried to speak, to explain yourself but he didn’t give you a second breath.

He stole the air from your lungs and the words from your mouth with a resounding *smack* to your cheek. The impact was so forceful that your head felt like it was on swivel and you stumbled back. Too shocked to even cry, too hurt to look at him.

“Were you planning to cheat? Is that what this is?” He scoffed.

“N-no!” You squeaked. “No I wouldn’t! Never!”

He laughed, not in amusement or cynicism, but in a strangled bout of hysteria.

“And I’m supposed to believe that?” His teeth clenched and bared.

“You think someone else would treat you as well as I do? That they’d be able to put up with your attitude?” He laughed again, pointing his finger in your face.

“You’re a fucking brat you know that? There’s not another man in this galaxy who could love you like I do. You’re a spoiled bitch. But you’re my spoiled bitch.”

You flinched at his choice of words. He’d called you a brat plenty of times, sometimes even as a term of endearment. Bitch though? The thought of him calling you that was previously inconceivable.

“You want me to show you how someone else would treat you? How this stupid fucker Tyler would handle you?” He growled, putting a hand on the back of your neck and forcing you to your knees.

“Anakin wait! Just let-“ He shoved your face into the soft flannel of his pajama pants, fisting your hair to hold you in place while he ground his cock across your tear stained cheeks.

“No sweetheart I’m not Anakin right now remember? I’m anyone but me.” He corrected you.

“Take your fucking shirt off. I want to see those pretty tits.” He smirked as he watched you quickly comply. “There. Not so difficult Hmm?”

You shook your head no in agreement with him, hoping to appease him. You had no idea where this was going, but you knew for damn sure that you weren’t gonna like it.

“That’s right.” He said as he gripped your jaw once more, chuckling when you instinctively dropped your mouth open. “That was the last easy thing you’ll be doing tonight.”

“Pull out my cock.” He demanded, the look on his face giving no indication that this was negotiable.

You hesitated, then steeled yourself to comply with his order. His pretty cock, the beautiful thing that made you feel like you were floating amongst the clouds… was standing tall and proud. This was the only time you’d ever been unhappy to see it and you hoped it was the last time too.

“Oh don’t look at me like that.” He grumbled. “This is what you wanted isn’t it? To be a whore? To cheat on me?”

“No! Anakin Tyler isn’t-“ He scoffed and took advantage of your open mouth and forced your head down around his length.

“Fuck.” He mumbled his stomach muscles tightened momentarily before relaxing again.

“Finally some fucking peace and quiet. I’m sick of your whining. I don’t ever want to hear that fuckboy’s name again do you understand me?” He growled, his eyes filled with jealousy painted red with rage.

Anakin started to thrust quick and shallow into your mouth panting while he glared down at you like you were his mortal enemy.

“You like this?” He asked, watching you shake your head no vigorously. “No? Didn’t think you would.”

“Can’t fucking believe this shit.” He moaned, tipping his head back toward the ceiling before letting his chin fall to his chest.

He growled, seeing you drool down the column of your throat. A fire lit behind his eyes and burst into an inferno after only seconds of this brutal punishment.

“Move your tongue.” He commanded, jerking your head to the side when you didn’t do it immediately. “Fuck, that’s better.”

Your tongue lay flat against the under side of his shaft as his cockhead started to bully its way down your throat, in and out in deep ruthless strokes. Tears pricked your eyes and began to fall, this time from discomfort instead of the horrible emotional pain he’d dealt to you.

“What?” He laughed again, looking down at you with a menacing grin that didn’t meet his glassy eyes. “Don’t wanna be a whore anymore do you?”

You shook your head no to the best of your ability and Anakin nodded in agreement, his breath caught in his throat just like his cock was stuck in yours.

“This is how men treat whores.” He said matter of factly. “Like a stupid little fuck toy. Do you want to be a stupid fuck toy?”

“No of course you don’t.” He tsk’d. “You want to be my good girl, my sweet princess.”

You nodded vigorously, choking on his length accidentally from the quick movement.

Your gag reflex kicked in violently, caused by your choking fit as you tried to cough, your body begging for some control to be returned to you. You struggled to breathe as he continued his brutal assault on your throat. But despite the pain, there was an odd thrill running through you, a sick satisfaction knowing you were pleasing him in this way. You should hate him for what he’s doing right now, but it would be a lie if you said you didn’t find it alittle bit hot.

He was unraveling quickly, his hips snapping fast and deep. You heard the familiar change in breathing that happen just moments before he would cum, the cute little high-pitched whimpers that left his beautiful plump lips.

You tapped his thigh, looking up at him with furrowed brows and pleading eyes. Begging him to relent for just moment so you could breathe.

“No, I’m close. You can wait." he growled back, his pace unrelenting, but his voice becoming shaky.

“I don’t understand.” He panted, looking down at you with a pained expression. “Why would you want to be treated this way when I give you all the love in the world? When I love you so much?

“Seeing you hurt like this baby… it hurts me.” He sniffled, on the verge of tears.

“Just think, imagine it sweetheart; what if you went out there tonight and that horrible guy did this to you?” His eyebrows turned up in a deep swoop.

“You know I’m only doing this to help you right baby?” He let out a choked sob as his cock twitched in your mouth.

“I don’t want you to get hurt! I love you!” He cried out, his own tears freely flowing, salty drips hitting your face as he stared down at you with the face of a broken man.

“Promise me you won’t ever make me do this again.” He whispered, lovingly wiping the tears from your eyes. “I can’t stand it.”

“Promise? You won’t ever do it again? Please baby.” He cried, his chest heaving with a sob as his face scrunched up.

“Can’t do that to me, you can’t! I’d die.” He was practically hysterical, seeing him like this was tearing you apart in ways his rough treatment couldn’t. The pain and torture in his voice was a worse punishment.

“I wouldn’t wanna live without you. I wouldn’t.” He sobbed, his thumbs softly caress your cheekbones made you forget all about the way he was brutalizing you. It made you forget the hurtful things he’d said. You weren’t even sure your throat would be sore after this; how could it be worse than having your heart bruised the way Anakin’s must be?

“My sweet girl.” He sniffled. “My poor baby, I’m sorry. So sorry I had to do this. You understood don’t you doll?

You nodded, crying for an entirely different reason now. If you could, you’d be wailing. Pleading with him as you comforted him with kisses and gentle touches, holding him as he cried over your actions. How could you have done this? How could you be so cruel!?

“Good girl baby.” He hiccuped. “Good girl. I love you. Love you so much babydoll, g-gonna hold you n’ make love to you like you deserve.”

His hips stuttered against your mouth, his stomach tense and his hand tightened around your hair.

“My best girl.” He whined. “Do you want my cum? Those horrible bad men wouldn’t give it to you. They wouldn’t know how much you love it.”

You nodded, eyes rolling back in your head. He’s right. They wouldn’t know, how could they know? No one knew you like Anakin did.

“Mmm… yeah? G-goddamn.” He whimpered, pushing your face deep into his groin, your nose pressed firmly into the curly hairs at the base of his cock.

He sobbed, a full loud heart-wrenching sob as he came violently down your throat. You gratefully drank it down, thankful he’d let you have it after all you’d put him through.

Gently he pulled himself from your mouth, wiping his eyes dry as he sniffled. Tucking himself back into his pants before scooping you up into his arms and rocking you against his chest. Then he walked over to the recliner in the living room and sat down with you.

He let you cry it out while showering you with love and affection and beautiful sweet words in his warm honeyed voice. Finally once you’d calmed down he tilted your chin up to face him. Giving you a slow sensual kiss. The kind of kiss that was almost sticky, your lips wanting to stay connected for as long as possible.

“Are you okay sweetheart? Do you need anything?” He whispered against your lips in a pleading tone.

“No.” You shook your head, still taking shaky short gasping breaths. “M’so sorry Ani.”

“Oh baby. No, it’s okay.” He cooed. “You didn’t know. That’s why I had to teach you huh?”

“Uh huh.” You sniffled.

“You understand now don’t you doll? No body could ever love you like I do.” He squeezed you tightly as you agreed.

“That was horrible wasn’t it?” He sighed. “Those other boys… oh princess it would be so much worse you know that?”

“I couldn’t be as mean to you as they could, not even half as bad.” He said softly as if the information were scary to even say outloud.

“R-really?” You squeaked, not even half as bad? You shivered at the thought that if could ever be worse than he’d shown you.

“Yes baby.” He nodded, a sad and solemn expression on his tear streaked face.

“Th-thank you Ani.” You sniffled. Feeling grateful that he wasn’t even capable of what must be such horrendous brutality.

“Oh sweetheart. Don’t thank me,” he whispered, petting your head. “Just hold me and I’ll hold you okay? We both need alittle extra snuggles tonight after that don’t we?”

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate

@burnthecheshirewitch@cherrylooney@star611

@tahliac11 @exquisit3corpse @jeldog @arzua10

@bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay

@aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn

@illiethefairy @bunnylovesani @offthethirlwall

@slutforhayden @ausskywalker @angelsadmired

@slut4starwarssmut @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie

@starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @no1klet @lethargic

@allhailbuckybarnes @shadowhuntyi

@bobtheturmpetman29 @mortalheartache

@fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot

@joshfutturmansrighthand @chaoticantihero

@vadersslut @luvvfromme @anakinsbaee

@sweetcheesecakesblog@rga11 @luvskywxlker

@angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled

#star wars anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #star wars #anakin x you #sw anakin #darth vader #darth vader smut #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin #darth vader x you #darth vader x reader #stepdad!anakin #hayden christensen #james kelly

[pray4byron]

HIYA HIYA!!! this is the super energetic bro that u matched with velvette, qnd I was curioussss to requesttttt smthhh (also maybe if u want to easier identify me I could be ✨️anon??)

Ok! SO! ~Imagine~ maybeee that angel has a person he is romantically interested in (reader)

And so reader is ~severely introverted~ and thus, not much is know about them. But! Charlie is leading a art group one day, for like, rehab bc art therapy is super big, and reader is really good at it, and basically drops lore that they where in college to be an art therapist‼️

And so‼️

Maybe angel, seeing this opportunity to get closer, and was like- "ayo want me to model 4 u??👀👀" and reader is like " pls wear clothes this isn't gunna be nude modeling bc I will get super embarrassed" and so basically soft fluff of reader painting angel and getting to know each other and confession

Mayybbee a oneshot?? If ur willing! Nor pressure

Also make sure to take time to urself and rest and eat water and drink food!!!

Lots of love from a silly Lil fan!! :))

hello dear!! ofc you can be ✨ anon, you’re already on my list haha, as i’ve stated in the past, im not amazing at oneshots, but here’s my take on this !

Warnings: Mentions of Nudity, Lazily written (sorryyyy), Pretty short

“Smooth Talker”

Angel Dust x Artist!Reader

After one of Charlie’s…interesting exercises, Vaggie suggests that the group should do therapy art, since y’know, it calms the soul. And Charlie couldn’t be more eager to do so!

The lobby was set up with canvases, paints, brushes, everything you could need!

Unlike most of Charlie’s previous activities, almost everyone was willing to participate, although Husk and Alastor kinda stood off to the side and watched.

Charlie was painting a cartoon version of Razzle and Dazzle, Vaggie was painting a sunset based off of the lesbian flag, Pentious was painting him in his war machine taking over Hell, and Niffty? Eh.. You don’t wanna know..

You on the other hand? Stood in front of your canvas, clueless, “Y’know, I could model for you..” Angel says into your ear.

Your head turned to face him “Sure.” You say nonchalantly before turning back to your canvas.

“Wait really?-”

“Just please keep your clothes on.”

Eventually you had moved your stuff over to the other side of the lobby so Angel could pose on the couch.

He had a soft smirk, as he layed on the couch, his arm propping up his face. Although, he began to get fidgety, messing with his fluff.

“Stop moving.” You said with a soft smile.

Angel kept messing his fluff. “Ange!”

“Gee, sorry!” He said, chuckling, moving his arm back to its original position.

“So uh, how’d you get into all this?” Angel asked as the sketching of your pencil went to a stop and you began actually painting it. “College, back when I was alive I wanted to be an art therapist.” You explained.

“Fitting.” He murmured. For the most part, it was silent, a comforting silence though, the presence of each other was oddly soothing.

“Okay.” You muttered, squiggling your signature down at the bottom of the canvas quickly, “I’m done.” You announce to him, turning the canvas around to show him.

Angel perks up immediately, amazed by your skill, he slowly gets up off the couch to get a closer look. “Damn…” He said, his voice above a whisper, “Can I… Can I keep it?” He asked, hopeful that you might say yes, “Duh.” You giggled.

“For once the smooth talker is shocked, that’s new.” You say with a smirk. “And for once the introvert is talking back, that’s new.” Angel replies, but the usual attitude in his voice isn’t there, his voice is barely above a whisper as his eyes are still entranced with the painting.

You take the painting off the stand and hand it to Angel. You look over to a nearby window notice the sun is setting, despite the red sky still being as clear as day, “It’s getting late, I’m gonna head up to my room.” You say. “Yeah… Me too.”

As you and Angel are both walking to your rooms, you don’t say much, until a voice pipes up, “Y’know, I really owe ya for the painting.” Angel says, still looking at it, “Owe me what?” You ask, as you both arrive at your door.

“A date, maybe.” Angel says, pecking your forehead, “Stop by my room at eight tomorrow, if your interested~”

#hazbin hotel #x reader #mio’s writing ! ☆ #fanfiction #x y/n #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #x you #reqs open #angel dust x y/n #angel dust x you #angel dust hazbin hotel #angel dust x reader #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel angel #angel x reader #angel dust #angel #✨ anon #greeny ! ☆

[poopyboiman]

A while ago you made a post abt neurodivergent headcanons for the TF2 characters, and included Medic having chronic mania/hallucinations. As someone who experiences those very things I’ve been wanting to hear further on your thoughts surrounding this headcanon (that I share myself :D). If you’re up for/comfortable with writing abt it, I can understand if you’re not :) Still! I wanted to say I enjoyed seeing a headcanon abt medic dealing with psychosis that wasn’t an angst fest or “grr scary and evil!!!” Type deal

I feel the same way I'm exhausted of seeing psychosis always get demonized (that headcanon was basically just me projecting on my favorite little guy) also i have been dying for an excuse to expand on this headcanon so thank you anon!!!!

as said in my previous post medic has hallucinations on the daily, mostly minor auditory stuff

I don't think he would be freaked out by his hallucinations, he'd be fascinated by them and he would want to study them (he follows cartoon logic: he hallucinates a big scary monster and he sticks his head in its maws and marvels at its teeth)

sometimes tho he gets too wrapped up in his hallucinations and has a hard time separating what's real from what isn't and that's where Archimedes comes in

medic trained him to pick up on certain cues to which he responds by perching on his shoulder and applying pressure therapy by pressing on the side of his neck

other times he tries to get medic to pet him to distract him and make him focus on something soothing instead

occasionally tho it's better to ask the other mercs for help and he just goes up to them and straight up asks them if what he's seeing is real

he's told them of his situation and they are all pretty used to it at this point (also this is probably one of the more normal things about the guy who sews animal organs into people)

although sometimes when he's alone with scout he gets to have a little fun with it: he gets really close to him, stares into his soul with his cold blue eyes, points at the nearest corner and goes "do you see zhe grinning man?"

medic has put the fear of god in scout for the funnies and scout has shit himself on numerous occasions

he just likes to be silly in true medic fashion

here are some silly sketches about this headcanon

Scout pov:

How scout sleeps since medic started pulling these pranks

#tf2 #tf2 medic #team fortress 2 #medic tf2 #tf2 headcanons #tf2 scout #scout tf2 #my art #mental illness isn’t always angst sometimes it can exist for comedic purposes #just as long as you’re respectful about it #thanks for making me ramble about this anon!! #long post

[rileyslibrary]

How about this: After some especially rough missions, Ghost is on edge, his mental health hanging by a thread. Of course he doesn't admit it and powers through training and everything, but everyone knows he needs help, something to balance him out again.

Even the doctors are on their wits ends with him at this point, so they try a new approach and assign him to some animal assisted therapy. OF COURSE he hates the idea - waste of time and he is fine anyway...

So reader and their animal are invited to base to try and help him. (Or reader is the team mate, and the therapist an additional character - how ever, you know best.) I'll leave to you which animal it will be. ;-)

Ghost & Peppa (the dog)

Anon, hold my purse while I fill this with warnings:

Brief mentions of war

Mentions of physical & emotional trauma

This story is purely fictional and should not be considered an accurate representation of the practices and/or effects of Animal-Assisted Therapy

I did NOT cry while writing this. I’m fine.

——————————————————————

He’s fine. Of course, he is.

Nothing wrong with collecting mutilated bodies after a bomb explosion—It’s part of the job.

What about him getting shot? Ah well, it got him on his shoulder—that doesn’t count. It wasn’t life-threatening, according to him. He was fine.

He had to talk to someone. You all tried to pass the idea to him. Everyone except Gaz, who didn’t want to get involved since he, too, was going through some shit.

Soap told him straight away. “Mate, you need to talk to somebody”.

“I got nothing to say”, was his response.

Price was more subtle. Such a tactful guy, your captain. He tried to bring the subject up by sharing his own therapy experiences.

“Opening up and feeling vulnerable was difficult,” he said, “but I pushed through.”

But all he received was a shrug and a stern “glad it worked out for you. I’m fine.”

And you? You tried to cheer him up, calm him down, make him talk.

Nothing.

For the past two months, he has been training daily, hitting that punchbag and bench pressing like a maniac. He was pushing his physical limits, attempting to lift barbells equal to his weight, and you were looking at a person struggling to lift the weight of his conscience.

But he was fine.

Until Gaz came one day and pitched an idea to the captain: “Animal-assisted therapy” they called it. The doctors assigned it to him, and it helped. So, why not give it a try with Ghost?

The lieutenant hated the idea. Hated it. Why? Because “it was pointless and stupid” to him.

Plus, he was fine.

But Price placed his thumbs under his shoulder straps and told him it was an order. And nobody messed with the captain when he put his thumbs under his shoulder straps.

The therapist arrived the following week with Peppa, the dog.

“Peppa, like the pig?”

That was Ghost’s first question. And upon the therapist’s first nod, the follow-up question came.

“Why the fuck would you name the dog Peppa?”

The therapist explained that Peppa’s first patient was a little girl who struggled with anxiety. She named her Peppa after the cartoon character, and the name stuck.

Days turned into weeks, and although he initially protested against the therapy sessions, he was now willingly participating in them. Almost looking forward to them.

“Can’t come to training today; got a meeting with Peppa.” He would say.

Such compliance? From Ghost? How?

You all reached a conclusion because you needed an explanation that could make sense—Ghost wasn’t engaging with the therapist as much; he was opening up to the dog.

Peppa became his silent confidante.

He was playing with her and scolding her for eating too fast. Sometimes, he would ask her “why she was so sad” or “so devious” and why she was always drooling. In response, Peppa would just whine, wiggle her tail, or tilt her head, and Ghost would interpret her reactions as he pleased.

Although you could all see the improvement in his demeanour, you still worried about his well-being.

But whenever you asked him how he was, his response remained the same.

He was fine.

You tried to shift the focus and ask how the therapy was going instead. Yet, Ghost would still cling to his standard response.

Fine.

And then, the therapist advised to do something else instead.

“Ask him how Peppa is doing.”

And that simple question, about the dog’s well-being, unveiled the hidden side of his emotions. He would open up, and recount how Peppa was feeling a bit down one day, seemed too scared another day, or ate very little. He projected his own feelings and experiences onto the dog. He used her as a vessel to express his inner turmoil, revealing his struggles in a way that felt more comfortable and less vulnerable to him.

After all, it was the dog’s struggles, not his own.

He was fine.

“Do you think Peppa gets a payslip every month?” you joked one day as you looked at Peppa lying next to Ghost. “For having a job and all?”

“Peppa was a stray, you know; she always fought to survive.” he replied, kissing her head, “poor thing.”

“Poor thing,” you repeated, this time looking at him.

He knew he wasn’t fine. You all knew.

But Peppa didn’t pressure him to do or say anything.

She wouldn’t urge him to “talk to somebody” or “try meditation.”

She would insinuate, in her own way, that she was there for him.

Looking at him with her tongue out and a wide smile across her face.

Whining and demanding more pets.

Giving him the ball so they can play fetch.

Reminding him that caring for himself was just as important as those gentle scratches behind her ear.

“We’re in this together, human—you will be fine.”

——————————————————————

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #ghost cod mw2 #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #ghost call of duty

[kneelingshadowsalome]

🤠🫶:

I am CACKLING like a cartoon villain oh my GOD you are a genius!!! Of course the toxic king breaks his back of COURSE he does the fucking idiot (affectionate), so there's fuck-all he can do with reader's big announcement that this was all worth it and he can totally get some...yknow, in a couple months. AHHHHH. And she just wanted to give him something to look forward to, motivation for the physical therapy <33 (she boops his nose while he lays there wishing for death and cowering from her, of course she does, omg. i love them your honor!!)

and maybe she gets more confident now that he can't fucking move 💀💀 (lmao, oh god. König if you weren't such a menace this would have been easier for her a lot earlier and nobody would be in this situation) and maybe this leads to way more sensual  touching from her on her own initiative; she's curious, after all, and she does like him a lot and she's just trying to help him get better, you know? and König eats that shit up, starts telling her all about these itches and sore muscles he can't reach, could she be a dear (trying to act like he's not literally begging for her touch) and then he basically blacks out the first time her hands linger and drift, but probably better that than the things he was going to say to her. So König wants to die, this is too much, he's done, he's a goner each time she visits him. and damn her, she's a devoted little thing, never misses visiting hours. Always so sweet and caring towards him and it's the perfect image of a faithful, doting housewife without the wife or the house or the sex part of it lmao. And of course he can’t move when all this is happening!!! so basically just more torture and his mind just kind of breaks into little tiny pieces held together by demented lovesick lust-filled fantasies. he says some absolutely filthy things (makes the cunt licking look family friendly in comparison), he can't control it really anymore, and poor reader is shocked/horrified and blushing furiously, but thinks it's the medications and the pain and whatnot, tries to be understanding, only chides him once she gets her shock under control (and he's actually stone cold sober the entire fucking time lmao, but he ain't telling her that, she'd run if she knew). 

AND THEN MAYBE~~ (dun dun dun) one day reader is FINALLY reaching under the stupid hospital bed blanket - he can feel her soft little fingertips and carefully manicured nails travel down his abs, trace the V of his hips (my man is going to black out again, good lord) and she's looking at him with big round eyes and she's nervous she's going to do it wrong and he won't like it (as if), and it's taking FOREVER for her to get her hand between his legs bc sweet little thing just wants to do it right, and he's out of his mind, half-crying, whisper-begging at this point (it's probably not even English, not German either, just mindless pleas). Her hand FINALLY wraps around his length and he's lucky he doesn't cum right then and there; she's blushing so violently at taking a man in her hands for the first time and she's seeking HIS approval with those pretty doe eyes as she bites her lip. So of course that's when there's a knock at the door (the universe hates him, he's going to scream, whoever this is is lucky he can't move and they might die anyway from the blast radius of sheer rage) and a doctor comes in for daily rounds. Reader barely has time to yank her hand back before doc sticks his head through the privacy curtains and yep our man's heart might actually just stop, he is just going to keel over right then and there. 

so not even a handjob for our poor king <3 if he doesn’t die (lol) he transfers to in-home care IMMEDIATELY and finally gets reader to himself in a more private setting where he can lock the fucking door. this is the part where I look away lmao, I'd leave him blue-balled & suffering forever ...am i a mean person?? also RIP to that doctor. this verse is so hilarious & wonderful and i love it, feels like a tug of war between tropes and genres if that makes sense which results in your delightful genius works, thank you thank you <333

This is so beautiful. I am puddle & I can't thank you enough for collaborating & I LOVE YOU Howdy anon 💋 and um, I think I got a little too excited about their first time lol oops (I can't leave him blue-balled forever! Poor man would die of heart failure 🥺)

(Tamara and Demon (1864), Mihály von Zichy)

Word count: 3.7 k

CW: 18+ NSFW. Corruption kink goes brrrr. Masturbating, dirty talking, obsessive/yandere König. Awkward handjob. First time/virgin!reader. Kinda sweet and fluffy 🩷 Also coersion/mildly dubious consent, tread carefully!

A/N: You can find the story of König x virgin!reader and their relationship so far by following the tag (könig x virgin reader)

Oh she visits him alright!

She’s much braver now that König is bedridden and can’t move. They actually spend more time together after the weightlifting accident. The intense stares haven’t gone anywhere, he's actually gotten worse in that department, but otherwise, König is behaving quite nicely.

He seems to like it when she reads to him next to his bed, which is immensely cute in her opinion. Armed with a new book in the crook of her arm, she’s on her way to visit him again for another session.

She's already accustomed to simply floating in after giving his door a light rap. She's also gotten used to the sight of guns and knives and the smell of army storage, even the manly, pungent stench of sweat that lingers on top of it. 

But it’s not the potpourri of masculine military scents that stop her at the door and nearly make her drop her book.

The King himself is lying naked on the bed – well, naked except for the bag of a mask he seems to hold on to like it’s his soul. This time, she doesn’t even see it: her eyes fly straight to the towering erection he’s stroking, urgently with one hand while the other cups a pair of shaved, pale balls.

"König…?" 

The man who calls himself King curses – in German or in English, she can’t tell. The sight of him there, caught red-handed on touching himself, only makes her feel sorry for him. König has nowhere to run and hide, nothing to cover himself with, he's not supposed to even move yet. And he is not the one who should be embarrassed, after all, she's the one who barged in on his privacy. 

Although… König doesn't look embarrassed. 

He only looks drunk and sweaty and in need.

She thinks about turning back and leaving him with hurried excuses because what the hell is she supposed to do…? Read him a book? He is still gripping his cock like it’s a sword or something, breathing like he just ran a marathon. 

And speaking of swords, that weapon is far too big for her... Hell, she doesn’t know much about swords but she would deem that sword far too big for any woman.

If she were clever, she would run away from that stare and that huge, monstrous cock. But she’s not that clever, that much is clear because everyone she’s told she’s dating König have warned her about him. Every cell in her body is warning her of danger, but she keeps running back to him, over and over again…

Well, at least he can’t move, she thinks, takes a hesitant step, and places the book down on a table. Just when she’s about to whisper some calming, soothing words to this beast, the beast speaks.

"Take your clothes off," comes a husky command from the bed, and she freezes with her fingertips still on the cover of her cute little book about German fairytales (she knows König likes his fairytales bloody). 

Normally, she would make a scene out of such audacity. She might even storm out of the room and vow to never speak to him again for daring to talk to her like that.

But… 

He looks so desperate. König looks like a giant bound for torture on that bed. And he's not the only one who has been tormented these past few weeks… The incident at the hospital has plagued her dreams every night as she has tucked herself in with the memories of König's… sword.

Perhaps it would help with his pain if she offers him relief in his time of need. No harm can come from that, surely. She doesn't know how exactly taking her clothes off will help, but if that is his wish, then it’s the least she can do. 

To her and his surprise, her hands drift to the hem of the top she’s wearing. She’s feeling rather wild – something about seeing König completely naked yet unable to move is making her act like this. Like she's the brave one. Like she’s in control now.

Dedicated to her task, she pulls the shirt over her head.

Nothing moves on that bed for a good long while. As far as she can tell, König might've stopped breathing. But by the time she takes her bra off, there’s a swallow under that hood. Then the hand slowly starts to stroke again, the moist, slick sounds continue as her breasts fall free from their confinement. 

She’s breathing heavily too, and the man on the bed is stiff as a stone: every single muscle in his body is pulled taut as he stares at her breasts like they’re the Revelation of John. Then those blue eyes lift to her face just before another command is issued.

"Take off the rest."

"The–the rest…?"

"I just want to watch you." 

His voice is hoarse and croaky, and she feels even more sorry for him – König must be in so much pain and she just keeps on teasing him. She started this, so perhaps it’s better just to see it through. 

What’s crazy though is that he actually moans when she gets out of her pants, socks, and finally, her underwear. The slick sounds of fapping increase, and he’s moaning.

She hasn’t even touched him yet… She’s just standing there before him completely naked, heat pooling low in her belly as König continues to work himself with what looks like both pleasure and pain.

"Komm… Come here," he orders next, out of breath but surprisingly politely, and she has no other option than to approach his bed. She sits down as chastely as possible, then almost jumps back up when a steel-hard thigh brushes against hers.

"Touch it. Ja?" 

Her eyes grow as wide as they can go as she takes in the cock she has touched once before, briefly and under a hospital sheet. Now it’s right there, foreign and demanding. 

Better just to see it through, her mind tweets as her hand reaches out through what feels like water. Like before, there's a sharp intake of air under the hood as she takes him in her hand. It’s even hotter than she remembered, and gives a tight pull the instant her fingers wrap around it. 

"Like this…?" 

"Just like that…"

Her meek little mouse peeps and multiple bats of eyelashes are like drug to him, it seems. The man is as tight as a bowstring when she starts to move her hand up and down, mimicking the motions she just saw him do. They're not as fast as his, and her grip must be way gentler, but she seems to do surprisingly well for an inexperienced virgin. The poor man looks like he’s about to faint on that bed. 

What she doesn’t expect, however, is König to touch her.

A large, warm palm sweeps across her ribs and lands on her breast, softly, as if he's concerned that he might scare her off. She's the one who's stopped breathing now… And then he rubs her, squeezes her. Gently… Reverently.

"You're soft," comes a strained sigh from the bed as she tries to keep her own grip both tight and gentle. She’s starting to get so wet she fears she will stain his sheets. Bewildered, she tries to change her position, but the palm cupping her breast seems to have bound her to the bed too. Nothing moves, except her hand and his as they explore each other. A giant and an angel...

Something hot and wet meets her hand as she strokes him – is he cumming already…? But it can't be, she has heard there’s supposed to be quite a bit of it when a man cums, and there’s only a few ample drops of clear liquid oozing out of the slit on his tip.

"Can't wait for the day I get to make you scream," he rasps, and her heart is hammering in her chest as more cum-like liquid streams from the slit of his cock, adding to the lewd, moist sounds of the handjob she’s giving him.

König doesn’t know she has never even kissed a guy… 

"We'll… we'll get there," she tries to soothe him, thanking her lucky stars this man can't move.

"I want to fuck you," he continues, sounding more and more desperate. "Good and hard… until you cry under me. Want to see if you can take it all in."

"König…"

"It’s a long cock, ja? I can make you squirt."

"König, I'm still a virgin… You can't–"

"Nh–Sorry… sorry."

His head falls back on the pillow, his muscles relax just for the tiniest moment. But if she thought he would finally leave her to it, she was wrong. The hand of a giant killer drops between her legs next. 

She’s sitting on the bed like she would sit on a side saddle, with one leg slightly bent, giving the horniest man on earth good enough access to the heat between her legs. She doesn’t stop him – she doesn’t even want to – as broad fingertips meet her pubic hair and slip between her already slick folds. 

"...Was? Pretty angel is all wet," he comments on her state of mess. Approvingly: like all his fears have suddenly disappeared. 

She has to fight the urge to roll her head back and moan as those agile fingers start to give her full, generous strokes. She almost messes up her rhythm while stroking his cock, which seems to have gotten even harder.

His fingers delve into her with more courage, they tease her tight, tender nub with excited circles. She tries not to jolt and shiver as he makes her even more slick, tries to ignore how her nipples grow hard from that burning stare alone. 

"Such a pretty girl… and so wet. You sure you don't want it?"

She thinks about it – how it would feel if he somehow was able to take her on that bed. If he pushed that cock inside her and if it would hurt or make her moan even more. Even the thought of trying to fit that inside her makes her thighs feel like pudding.

"I don’t know… You're still recovering."

"Heh… That's not a problem. You can be on top. I'll help," he offers as if it’s a gentlemanly thing to do, to help her bounce on that huge cock. 

"I–I'd rather do it the classic way."

"I'll show you classic when I get better," he promises with unconcealed greed. "I'll show you all the other ways too. We’ll do it any way you like."

She tries hard not to whimper when hearing his promise. She tries her best to pleasure the biggest cock she’s ever seen. It’s ridiculous that it’s the only cock she’s ever seen... What sort of a cruel joke was it from the universe to choose this king-sized Austrian to be her first man? 

She wonders how König would react if she told him he’s too big for her.

Would he try to change her mind? Would he have a meltdown? 

Would he cry…? 

She doubts if this man ever cries. The last time a brutal soldier like him shed tears was probably when he was a kid. But he did look like he was about to cry that one time when she booped his nose... 

And despite being a cold-blooded soldier and somewhat awkward at times, König has always been so, so delicate with her. He's tender even now, touching her with the gentlest avarice there is. But that searing stare wants to possess her, devour her, and it makes her bite her lip nearly to the point of drawing blood.

"Sit on my face?" he offers next, this time sounding so desperate it's almost pathetic. 

Sit on his face… 

What would he even do? Lick her? Try to push his tongue inside her while finishing himself?

The thought alone makes her mess up her rhythm again and causes her pussy to pulse more wetness on his fingers. She secretly hopes he would slip at least one of those fingers inside.

"Let me see your cunt," he begs. God – this giant mercenary is begging to see her poor, aching pussy. "Just… let me at least taste you–"

She can’t even reply before the hand between her legs gives a sudden twitch and stops those delicious rubs. Actually, his whole body is going rigid. 

"König…? Am I hurting you?"

"I'm–gonna cum…" 

Oh god.

Oh god ohgod-

She's not sure what gives her more of a fright: the sound that leaves her soldier boyfriend as he cums, or the bright, hot flash of liquid that shoots from the cock in her hand.

He groans like it’s torture. Long and hard, so loud that she’s sure other people can hear it in the neighboring rooms, perhaps even further than that. There’s one, two, three spurts of thick, hot liquid, after that, she loses count because it spills to coat his stomach, it runs down her hand, and she’s pumping him in a frenzy while he just keeps on moaning.

"Slow, slow down–" he tries to groan in the middle of his climax and she obeys immediately, reveling in how his cock still throbs in her hand when she finally stops moving altogether. More cum gushes out with every strong pulse, even if the eruptions are less violent. Ropes of it already cover his abs, it coats her hand with thick film – it's far more than she would ever have expected, and a shiver goes through her as she imagines what it must feel like to take all of that semen inside her… 

"Ah… Das war wirklich…" König sighs dreamily while she must be looking like a startled deer.

Yes, that was really something… She doesn’t know what to do with his cock, or her hand, or the mess that coats half his body.

Luckily, he instructs her to take his old shirt from the floor and clean herself with it. She cleans him with it too, dabs the black t-shirt over his muscled stomach, even tries to swipe his crotch with it as gently as she can. 

König looks happier by the minute, looks at her like she’s an angel or something, and when she fully commits herself to getting him cleaned up, he gets another erection. She’s quite horrified – how is this even possible…? She thought men would need at least hours to get it back up again.

"Come on top," he offers, sounding all but seductive with that commanding tone. 

She swallows, thinking if König wants to be a "gentleman" and finish her too. With his tongue... or something else.

"Just for a hug? We don't have to put it in."

She seems to be under some spell tonight, because she simply drops the poor, cum-stained shirt back on the floor and crawls to the bed and on top of him.

König is hot and lean as she presses herself against him, her thighs now straddling the intimidating thing between his legs. Her head falls right beside his mask-covered face, and the smell of guns and fuel and sweat is prominent there, as is his natural odor, the woodland musk she has grown so fond of.

"There we go," his arms go around her waist, pressing her tighter against him. There’s no escape now, she thinks, but like always with König, she eventually softens and relaxes, molds against him… Accepts her fate.

"You did well, Meine Liebe," he even caresses her head as she slowly melts into his hold. "I’m sorry if I frightened you. Will you forgive me?"

"Um, of course."

"A gentleman should always apologize if he has upset his lady. Do you agree?"

"Uh… Yes."

"I promise to be a good man. The best man you could ever hope for."

She bites her lip as König continues to caress her. She’s far from upset, but she doesn’t want to tell him that and excite him too much. Otherwise he might end up hurting himself. He hugs her tight, and seems to have calmed down more than ever.

Is this what an orgasm does to a man...? The change is drastic, and her lover feels warm, and tender, and inviting. He even whispers more promises on her skin. They're nonsensical but gentle, König is probably trying to be romantic, but she can feel how his breaths grow heavier as time goes on. After all, they're both naked, pressed tightly together, closer than ever before, and he's having an erection again...

She tries not to shiver at the things he tells her. The husky promises of love and protection: "You are mine now, ja? Don’t be afraid. I would never hurt you. I will always keep you safe." And then, "You’re still wet, mein Mädchen… How about we practice just a little bit? We'll do it slow. Ja? I will make you moan…"

He coos those things in her ear while holding her in place for his cock. She starts to move on her own accord; it’s like her hips have their own will. Soon, her entrance meets the tip of him, still hot and bulged, and she starts to grind against it with barely restrained greed. She is wet – wetter than ever. 

König curses multiple times under his breath, and she feels so, so filthy for loving how unhinged he is, how unhinged she is – spread wide on top of him like that, trying to get off of the faintest touch of his cock. She’s so soaked that the hot tip of him glides across her folds with no effort at all. 

She feels like she’s doing something forbidden, taking her pleasure from him like that, but König doesn’t seem to know what the word filthy even means. He keeps praising her, guiding her, helping her, telling her how good she feels, that she’s doing so, so well.

Soon, he’s asking to put it in – just the tip. 

She tries her best not to sound too needy as she breathes a soft, mousy "Yes."

"How does that feel?"

He’s panting, few inches of thick cock inside her, and she thinks, did she just lose her virginity? Is this it? Why isn’t it hurting?

“You like that, hmm?”

He feels so, so good, pressing her against him, spreading her legs with his own, trying to feed more of that marvelous thickness inside. It doesn’t hurt, at least not yet. It makes her dizzy to even think what she must be looking like, with her legs spread and a huge cock partly inside her.

She should say something… What was it that he asked? Oh yes, if she likes it. She more than just likes it, and tries to push herself down to get more of him in. König reacts immediately with a ton of praise leveled at her in the softest possible way.

“That's it, that's it, pretty girl, take it in…”

Him cheering her on like that only makes her decide that it’s time to let go and let go for good. But she can’t get him in by herself, not while he’s holding her a prisoner like this.

"More… König, please," she hears herself whimper. 

God, is this all it took...? Him holding her close and letting her find the joys of sex herself? Apparently so, because he sounds goddamn smug when he turns his head to rasp more needy, throaty things in her ear.

"Ah… Knew you'd beg for it… "

His voice makes her inner walls clamp down on him, and that’s when it hurts, but only slightly. She wants him so much that it’s painful. And König… God, he keeps on showering her with praises and promises.

"I'll show you how good it can be… That's it, let me hear you. It's a good cock, ja? Good cock for a pretty girl…"

It’s not even fully in before he starts the thrusts. That’s when she knows she has lost her virginity. She’s being plunged. Not taken… Just… loved, thoroughly and deeply. 

When she moans, finally sounds as filthy as can be, he tells her how tight she is. How good she feels. He says he’s going to cum again soon. But not before her…

He doesn’t need to instruct her to rub her clit on his pelvis in rhythm with the thrusts. She is smart enough to do that by herself. And the thoughts of This is it, I’m not a virgin anymore have turned into Is it possible to cum on your first time…?

Everything’s perfect, all things considered. But there’s something missing.

"König," she swallows arduously. "I’ve never been kissed... Would you– Could you…?"

He stops moving, releases his hold a little. A strong heart is hammering inside his chest, she can feel it against her own fluttering heartbeat. 

Is it stupid of her to ask…? Will he only laugh at her for being so sentimental?

Apparently no, because it’s the warmest possible command that surrounds her this time.

"Lift the mask, angel."

By the time their lips meet, both hesitant and needy, he's fully inside her and holding her like a mountain. She feels like she's in a fairytale now: the only thing that moves is his mouth, and hers. Theirs is a slow, hungry rhythm. 

Her first kiss is not only awkwardly romantic and sweet, it’s sinfully good. 

The kiss also does things she did not expect. Her pussy goes tight around him, so tight that a whimper or two escape her nose, and König only purrs – she feels like the softest little creature in the embrace of a lean jaguar.

And she thinks… 

Why on earth didn't they do this months ago?

#answered #yandere könig #könig smut #könig x virgin reader

[mellowsadistic]

Couples Therapy - Part 2

Angela spent most of the afternoon watching cartoons. She’d been insulted when Eric had sat her in front of the television and put on a little kids’ channel for her, but she’d barely managed to start complaining before the bright colours of the show drew her in. Even if it was a silly plot about a little baby bear leaning to be good for her Daddy, it was actually quite fun to watch.

Later, she made a bit of a mess at dinner, and Eric needed to wipe her mouth clean for her and send her off to change her top. He’d even joked about getting her a bib. Angela had giggled, but really she’d been a bit scared. She didn’t want to wear a bib like a baby, and she didn’t know why she’d had such a hard time getting her food in her mouth like a big girl.

But it wasn’t until she was getting ready for bed that evening that Angela really started to get upset, when she walked into their bedroom and saw the large disposable diaper waiting for her on the bed. She froze immediately at the sight of it. Even though she knew she wore them every night (didn’t she?), there was something about seeing it this time that was different. “I can’t… I don’t want to�� I’m not wearing that.”

“Sweetheart,” said Eric, like he was explaining something very simple to someone stupid. “You have to wear your nappy otherwise you’ll make a big mess. You’ll go pee-pee all over the sheets, darling, just like you do every night, and I don’t want to have to wake up in wet sheets.”

Angela blushed. She felt utterly pathetic.

“But it’s okay, baby,” Eric cooed, and Angela felt butterflies fluttering in her tummy at the gentle tone of his voice. “I still think you’re adorable, even with a yucky wet diaper on. I don’t care that you’re not fully potty trained at night, sweetie.”

Angela’s face went even redder, but at the same time a pleasant tingle ran down her spine. Lucky girl. She was a lucky girl to have Eric. She held out her arms hopefully, and he responded by pulling her in for a big cuddle. His hand reached down to cup her bottom possessively.

Angela felt dizzy, she felt drunk, and she didn’t even resist as Eric stripped off all of her clothes and laid her gently down on the bed, with her bare bottom planted right on the seat of the bulky adult nappy. ‘Good girl,” he crooned as he sprinkled her nether regions with baby powder and patted it into her skin. “That’s a good girl.” He taped her diaper tightly around her waist, and pulled her back to her feet. She stood there awkwardly, her legs spread apart by the thickness of her nappy, shifting from foot to foot. Eric started to undress as well, down to his boxer shorts. But he didn’t have any babyish underwear to change into because he was a grown-up.

Angela was about to get into bed when she realised she hadn’t put a top on. Did she usually go to bed topless? She looked down at her large bare breasts and felt a bizarre urge to start jiggling them, to start bouncing them up and down. She giggled. She was such a silly girl!

“What are you giggling at, sweetie?” her husband asked, smiling.

“Nufing!” Angela blushed and shook her head. “I mean, nothing.” She was just being dumb. She was being a silly girl. She couldn’t tell him she’d been thinking about bouncing her boobies – that would be so embarrassing! It definitely wasn’t something that a big girl would do. But then it wasn’t something a little girl would do either, was it? Because they didn’t even have boobies! Angela screwed up her face in concentration.

Eric laughed. “Silly girl! Are you trying to do thinkies? It’s bedtime, sweetie. Time to turn that sweet little brain off.”

Angela scowled. Eric knew she hated being talked down to. She stuck out her bottom lip and stomped her foot to show him how angry she was. “Don’t patwonise me!” she whined.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said, but there was something about his eyes that made Angela feel like he was still laughing at her. She got into bed grumpily, her tits jiggling and her diaper crinkling loudly. Eric got into bed next to her and immediately pressed himself right up against her body, reaching round to grab one of her boobs so tightly that she winced. She almost moved away instinctively. Weren’t they fighting about something? Weren’t they angry with each other for some reason? But then she remembered that good girls didn’t do that. Good girls didn’t say no with their mouths or their bodies.

Angela frowned. That didn’t sound right. She wasn’t her husband’s property… was she? But she felt herself getting wet at the thought. It had been a while since they’d have sex, although she wasn’t sure why. She was so horny. She imagined him taking her now, ripping her nappy off and ramming his cock inside her, using her any way he liked. Then she pulled a face, sickened with herself. Where were these thoughts coming from?! She wasn’t a whore! Even so, she didn’t push her husband away. Eric didn’t fuck her that night, but Angela drifted off to sleep with his hard cock pressed firmly against her padded bottom.

When she woke up the next morning, her diaper was soaked with pee-pee. Even though she knew it was something that happened to her every morning (although her actual memories were a little foggy), it still felt strange and embarrassing. It was so yucky! The sodden nappy was cold and clammy, and it reeked of piss. Their whole bedroom smelled like urine now. She’d probably smell like pee herself for the rest of the day. Her new perfume… She untangled herself from Eric’s arms and slipped out of bed, nearly gagging when her diaper sagged as she stood up. It was so heavy!

She heard Eric moving behind her, and turned around. Her husband was propping himself up in bed, looking at her with a smile that was a too much like a smirk. “Do you need changing, sweetie?” he asked.

She looked at him dumbly.

“Do you need me to help?” he tried again, nodding at her waist.

She followed his gaze to the sopping wet Pampers sagging between her thighs, and felt herself going red. No! She didn’t need help changing! She wasn’t a baby! A mental image of herself laying on her back with her legs in the air flashed in her mind, and she shook her head vigorously. “No fank you,” she mumbled. “I mean, no thank you.” What was wrong with her voice? She sounded silly. Silly like that secretary at the therapist’s office. A lisping porn parody. She ran her fingers through her hair and over her bare chest. No pigtails. No stripper tits. She was a big girl. A respectable woman.

“Okay sweetheart,” her husband said, smiling patiently. “Go change your nappy then.”

Angela broke out of her thoughts, realising she’d been standing there stupidly, like she was waiting for his permission to go. She turned around and toddled to the bathroom as quickly as she could, her droopy diaper swinging about between her legs as she went. She imagined she could feel his eyes on her backside and her face burned with shame. She must look so stupid!

She nearly cried when she saw herself in the bathroom mirror. She was a sexy grown woman with great tits and a tight body, right up until you got to her waist, where instead of seeing her cleanly shaved pussy and toned ass, there was a bulky disposable diaper hanging heavily between her legs, clearly full to the brim with wee-wee. When she undid the tapes, it fell to the floor with a wet smack. She got to work cleaning herself up with wet wipes, making sure to get every bit of pee around her nether regions. She couldn’t stand being so dirty. Even as a child, she’d always hated any activities that got her messy. When she was done, she shoved her used nappy in the tiny bathroom bin and wandered back into the bedroom naked.

Eric had arranged her clothes out on the bed for her, and for a moment, Angela could only stare at them in disbelief – a pastel-pink, little-girlish frock with frilly white ankle socks, trainers, and a pair of baby-blue panties with Disney princesses on the crotch. The outfit looked exactly like something a four-year-old would wear. Angela was about to shout, when all of a sudden a strange fuzziness filled her mind. She thought of the lovely swirling colours she’d seen at the therapist’s office, and looked at the clothes again. They were kind of cute. They weren’t baby clothes after all. They just looked a bit silly, and she was a silly girl.

Angela smiled vacantly at Eric when he started to dress her, sliding her underwear up her legs and pulling her frock over her head (“Arms up! That’s a good girl!”), even pulling on her socks and tying her shoelaces for her. She felt looked after. She felt pretty and cute. She felt like a good girl.

Once they were downstairs, she hopped from foot to foot impatiently while Eric put his own shoes on at the door. “Come onnn!” she whined, fidgeting with the hem of her dress, lifting it up absent-mindedly and flashing her adorable little-girl undies.

“Looking forward to seeing the therapist, sweetie?” he asked, chuckling at her immature antics as he finished putting his shoes on and picked up a large sports bag.

Angela nodded her head eagerly. She wanted to see the pretty lights again.

“Good girl,” said Eric, taking her hand. A pleasant tingle ran down Angela’s spine and into her pussy. “Let’s get going, baby.”

#mellowsadistic