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ju1cyfru1t · 10 months

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Y/N’s guide of an ornate box turtle mutant

fluff :)

(Rise!Mikey x reader)

gn reader, romantic leaning but can be read as platonic

In which Mikey stumbles upon your documentation on himself.

Donnie’s version Leo’s version Raph’s version

☻Subject of interest

Ornate Box turtle mutant; humanoid turtle man

Special note: subject appears to have developed several personas

☻ Diet:

Pizza, sweets (favors cupcakes), fruits, Dr.Pepper (likes to try new things; bring specimen new snacks?)

☻ Likes:

Orange, baking + cooking, stickers (reminder: buy goo gone), painting, emotional vulnerability (Donnie warns; be cautious of ‘Dr.Feelings’), horror films, romance films (subject cries?), cuddling (nts: subject holds tight), helping others (even if they don’t deserve it, not going to name any names they know who they are), Jupiter Jim (movies, comics, games)

☻ Dislikes:

Being snuck up on (will cause turtle to refuse to come out of shell), lying, seeing people sad (note: subject is concerningly good at reading emotions),

——> subject does not seem to dislike many things. subject is very, strangely optimistic.

☻ Tail language ❌leave tail alone, do not startle the subject.(will hide in shell) he is sensitive and sassy❌

twitching rapidly: threatened, scared, upset. not very common, but can soothe turtle with (gentle) shell scratches.

wagging: excited, happy, energetic. typically while talking about Jupiter Jim? and other likes? (see above) (tip: will increase w/ shell scratches)

still and loose: relaxed, sad. very rare, specimen is very energetic, only relaxed when asleep. sad turtle most soothed by being held???

——————————————————————————

Mikey smiled happily to himself, laying on his plastron in his room. He read your words carefully, really taking it in. You really have this crime-fighting silly little ninja giggling and kicking his feet.

It just felt so good knowing you cared so much about him. Not that he didn’t know before, but it’s always nice to be reminded just how much you really, truly did. Him. Not Leo, or Donnie, or Raph. Just him.

Of course Mikey had noticed you acting a little sketchy around him, and had even asked you what was up but with the same response of nothing every time. He was a little relieved this was all it was.

The guilt slowly poured into him as he realized this was probably a violation of your privacy. His curiosity got the better of him when he saw the folder in your backpack with his name on it after you left it in his room. He totally betrayed your trust!

After some very nervous thought, he knew he needed to make it up to you somehow…right?

——————————————————————————

☻Subject of interest

Ornate Box turtle mutant; humanoid turtle man

Special note: subject appears to have developed several personas. such as Dr.Delicate Touch, Dr.Feelings, and Dr.Positive. what does this mean? is this normal? Of course!

☻ Diet:

Pizza, sweets (favors cupcakes), fruits, Dr.Pepper (likes to try new things; bring specimen new snacks?) Oooh, I’ll make you a list!

☻ Likes:

Orange my life color, thank you, baking + cooking, stickers (reminder: buy goo gone) you took them off? D:, painting it’s easy when I have such a beautiful muse!, emotional vulnerability (Donnie warns; be cautious of ‘Dr.Feelings’) Whaaat? Donnie doesn’t know what he’s talking about anyway.>:( horror films, romance films (subject cries?) They’re just so sweet!, cuddling (nts: subject holds tight), helping others (even if they don’t deserve it, not going to name any names they know who they are) it’s what I do, baby! Jupiter Jim (movies, comics, games)

☻ Dislikes:

Being snuck up on (will cause turtle to refuse to come out of shell) I like when you carry me Ha ha very funny, lying, seeing people sad (note: subject is concerningly good at reading emotions), (to be continued???)

——> subject does not seem to dislike many things. subject is very, strangely optimistic. Dr.Positive will see you now!

☻ Tail language ❌leave tail alone, do not startle the subject.(will hide in shell) I can’t help it! he is sensitive Nuh uh and sassy❌

twitching rapidly: threatened, scared, upset. not very common, but can soothe turtle with (gentle) shell scratches. I agree, the subject would like that very much.

wagging: excited, happy, energetic. typically while talking about Jupiter Jim? and other likes??? (see above) (tip: will increase w/ shell scratches) Maybe you should test that hypothesis again! Just to be sure. ;D

still and loose: relaxed, sad. very rare, specimen is very energetic, only relaxed when asleep. sad turtle most pacified by being held??? Again, you should probably continue to test that theory.

Beautiful work! But, I would keep in close contact with the subject. You know, for research purposes.

Love you!

- Mikey🧡

p.s. I’m really sorry for looking through your stuff

——————————————————————————

TYSM FOR READING🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

3 DOWN 1 LEFT 🤺

(also I’m still working on requests, and they are still open)

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise mikey #tmnt michelangelo #mikey x reader #rise of the tmnt #rise michelangelo #tmnt #mikey hamato #rise mikey x reader #rottmnt #tmnt x reader #tmnt mikey #rise april #rise donnie #rise donatello #rise leo #rise raph

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t4rt4gl14 · 2 years

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hello are your requests open??🥺🥺

can i request a professor diluc with his favorite student?? wherein after class, he bends you over his knee, punishing you for failing subject?? like feral diluc?? overstimulating and edging?? spanking too?? then degradation?? he won't make you cum until you get a passing score on his next quiz?? only if you can tho, thank you!!

✰ professional guide on how to get A+ ✰

⚠︎ diluc/al haitham. ( separately )

⍰ [ fem!reader ]. tummy bulge. breeding/creampie. vaginal fingering. petnames. praise/degradation. overstimulation/edging. squirting.. cervix fucking. use of ‘sir’ and ‘professor’. size kink. dacryphilia. semi-public sex. rough sex. cl1t slapping.

☆ y’all i swear i ain’t dead, i had the biggest writers block ever 💀 but i’m back :)) enjoy 😘

PROFESSOR DILUC…asking you to stay behind after class, patiently waiting for all the other students to leave. eyeing your body and calmly asking to sit on his lap. “well y/n care to explain? your grades seem to be falling..quite suddenly; any reason?”, you can barely look him im the eye, blushing and looking away. your excuse was pathetic, “i didn’t revise, i’m sorry professor”, “didn’t revise hm? let’s revise now then.”, ordering you bend over his knee and asking you various questions. “i’ll ask you similar questions, you won’t get your relief till you answer correctly…question 1..”. these questions were surreal! they weren’t even in the test and being unable to get any correct- it all led to you turning into a twitching mess, ass printed a light red, cunt oozing and contracting around nothing. soso desperate for your professors cock. “professor! m’sorry!! m’so so sorry- wanna cum! mngh!~”, he simply denied and kept spanking along with edging you, slender fingers reaching deep inside; occasionally prodding your sweet spot. “sluts like you don’t deserve to cum”, he scoffs, denying your release. well it is nice reminder to revise next time <33

SIR AL-HAITHAM…railing your brains out after detention, “your grades were disastrous, perhaps today’s detention will remind you to revise”. cock ramming in and out of your gooey insides, moans and mewls muffled with his fingers in your mouth, immediately shutting you up when his hand slid to slap your clit. you were sure he was reaching your cervix with the bulge that formed with each thrust. constantly hitting your sweet spot; causing you to cum over and over again, tightening around his cock only eggs him on to breed you, fill your sweet pussy with his cum. “shh it’s okay keep quiet for me? good girl mmngh!~ fuck a-ah~”, you were in complete bliss, coating the floor and your thighs in slick. eyes rolling back in shocks of pleasure, “so sensitive! m’so sensitive sir!~ oh-angh!~”, creating a complete mess whilst he smears your gummy walls with his seed. he promised you’ll get a better reward if you pass your next exam ! <33

TAGGING: @lex-lee-666 + @kxisuke + @leathernourishingshoepolish + @currysrealm + @stygianoir + @shizunxie

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redtsundere-writes · 20 days

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Would you consider continuing sukunaxservant? I’m in love with that au 💗💗💗

🥺👉👈 I beg

Hiya! Since you guys and Wattpad ate up my King!Sukuna x Servant!Reader one-shots, I decided to turn it into a series on Wattpad and AO3!

The first 4 one-shots (Ear Cleaning, Ribs, Blood Bath and Eyes on Me) will be included, but they'll be longer and better. So if you like any of those caught your attention, please check out the full version :) Thank you for the support!

PICK YOUR FAVORITE!

AO3 or Wattpad?

CHAPTER 1 PREVIEW! ↆ

Sukuna walked through the corridors illuminated by the dark sun that ruled among the kingdoms. His long, heavy footsteps made the marble floor rumble under his weight. His sharp profile, tattooed shoulders and large body, contrasted by the reddish sky of the cursed land, terrifying any small human who encountered him. He was a king who could control anything thanks to the terror that his large body and absolute power conveyed. He had the power on his hands to kill whatever and whenever he wanted like an omnipotent god, but he liked to watch his rats run from one side to the other to obey his mercy. It amused him to play with his servants to the point of making them cry, tremble or, in extreme cases, commit suicide. He had plenty of servants, so he could afford to kill as many as he wanted. The poor uniformed humans trembled if his dark eyes rested on them. They all tried to dodge him at all costs to avoid performing tasks that involved being near him, especially cleaning his ears.

Being a monster with senses sharpened to the max, he hated having his ears touched, but it was necessary for him to clean them to have his five senses ready for any battle. He is not someone ticklish, but his ears are the most sensitive part of his entire body. He could clean his own ears himself, but what kind of almighty, omnipotent king would clean his own ears when others could do it?

His eyes navigated through the long and endless corridors of the terrifying castle where he lived with all his subjects. The king's home was a place where darkness, cold, and uncertainty dominated the atmosphere. Even though it was surrounded by luxuries, it felt more like a secret attic than a castle fit for a king. Silver chandeliers, red candles parading on the walls and furniture upholstered with exotic fabrics from around the world decorated each room that was commonly surrounded by portraits made by hundreds of artists who feared for their lives.

His predatory eyes sought out the first poor servant that crossed his path. He heard the bristles of a broom being scrubbed against the floor. Sukuna spotted a small figure sweeping one of the guest rooms. There you were, humming a song softly from your childhood as you made the broom dance from side to side. You were so focused on your task that you didn't notice the king standing dangerously close to you. As you turned around, you suddenly bumped into his imposing body, giving you a mini heart attack. Dressed in elegant robes, gold rings on each finger and with a wicked grin on his face, he was looking at you as if you were a despicable creature he could get rid of in the blink of an eye.

You are the youngest and most inexperienced servant in the entire castle. You had not been living there for more than two months, so your direct interactions with the king had been few. Sukuna saw you from head to toe. He remembered you perfectly from the day he met you. Your neatly combed pigtails with two white bows showed off your innocence, the corset accentuated your small waist and the long brown skirt covered your promising legs. He accepted it, you were cute. Other than that, you were a disgusting human like everyone else, but there was something about you that caught his attention. Sukuna didn't know exactly what it was that you had. For the time being, he would continue to treat you as you deserved for being a nasty rat. Immediately, you knelt before your majesty. Your head rested in your hands against the freshly swept floor, your fingers barely touching his feet because of the closeness.

“Are you having fun?” Sukuna asked, sarcastic.

“No, my king,” you answered quickly, avoiding making eye contact.

Sukuna placed one of his bare feet on your back. The oppressive weight crushed you against the cold floor. You prayed inwardly that your bones wouldn't start to creak. You bit your lower lip and closed your eyes tightly to avoid letting out a moan of pain. Having satisfied his need to make the new maid see who her master is, he removed his foot from your agonized back. You took a deep breath to fill your lungs with air again.

“To my room. Now,” he ordered without deigning to look at you before leaving the room. You remained on the floor, slowly catching your breath. A metal taste touched your tongue. You bit your lower lip so hard what it was bleeding.

FULL CHAPTER ON WATTPAD / AO3!

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doumadono · 1 year

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Hashiras & s/o having hard time orgasming - headcanons (part 2)

Warnings: male!reader, angst

Requested by: my one and only @greenwitchsalem

MASTERLIST

Tengen Uzui

Tengen, known for his flamboyant personality, would initially be taken aback by the situation. He prides himself on being a skilled lover, so the thought of his partner struggling in this way would deeply trouble him

However, Tengen would approach the issue with understanding and patience. He would make it his mission to create a safe and comfortable environment for his partner, where they can openly communicate and express their needs

Tengen would encourage his partner to share his feelings and experiences at his own pace, assuring him that he is there to support him unconditionally

Tengen's sex with his significant other would focus more on emotional connection rather than purely physical pleasure. He would prioritize intimacy and trust-building

"Darling, I want you to know that your pleasure is my priority. I'll be here, by your side, supporting you every step of the way. We'll create a new definition of intimacy together."

Sanemi Shinazugawa

Sanemi, often viewed as gruff and distant, would find it challenging to confront such a sensitive issue. He might initially react with frustration or helplessness, unsure of how to address the situation

However, as Sanemi grapples with his partner's struggle, he gradually realizes that his anger won't solve the problem at hand

Once he realizes the depth of his partner's trauma, Sanemi would put his abrasive nature aside and prioritize his emotional well-being. He would become fiercely protective and determined to help him overcome their struggles

Sanemi would approach physical intimacy cautiously, never pushing his partner beyond his comfort zone but certainly encouraging him to engage more in physical contact

"I can't change what happened to you, but I can damn well make sure you never feel that pain again. I'll protect you, even from your own fears. We'll take it slow, no rush. You're worth every ounce of patience and care."

Obanai Iguro

Obanai, with his reserved and mysterious demeanor, would struggle to express his emotions openly. The news of his partner's trauma would leave him deeply concerned and conflicted, unsure of how to proceed

However, Obanai's loyalty and devotion would compel him to educate himself on the subject matter. He would meticulously research and seek out resources to better understand the impact of trauma on sexual experiences

Obanai would approach the issue with a calm and collected demeanor, offering a steady presence and unwavering support to his partner. He would prioritize open communication and encourage his partner to express his feelings without judgment

Obanai would carefully observe his partner's behaviors and cues, striving to understand his needs without pressuring him to disclose his trauma

He would carefully explore what brings his partner comfort and pleasure, using his knowledge to create an experience tailored to his partner's needs

"You are not defined by your trauma. I see the strength in you, the resilience. Let me be your pillar of support."

Giyuu Tomioka

Giyuu, known for his introverted and introspective nature, would internalize his partner's struggles as his own. He would blame himself for not being able to provide the comfort and pleasure he deserves

Initially, Giyuu might distance himself emotionally, feeling overwhelmed and unsure of how to approach the sensitive topic. However, his empathetic nature would eventually drive him to confront the issue head-on

Giyuu would prioritize communication, actively listening to his partner's needs and fears. He would offer unwavering support and reassurance, reminding him that his worth is not defined solely by his sexual experiences

Above all, Giyuu would patiently stand by their side, dedicated to supporting them every step of the way

Giyuu would be a steady and unwavering presence, assuring his partner that he is there for him every step of the way, providing reassurance and offering gentle guidance towards healing

When it comes to physical intimacy, Giyuu would proceed slowly, respecting his partner's boundaries at every step. He would prioritize consent and open communication, ensuring his partner feels empowered to express his needs and desires

"You're not broken, love. You're a survivor, and I admire your strength. We'll take it one step at a time, and I'll be with you every step of the way."

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maximumkillshot · 6 months

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I Won't Lose You- ICLY 7.5

Warnings: Cheater POV, a lot of not nice things are said. Definitely something to think about if you are sensitive to that type of subject matter, cursing, some air of grand diosity,

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

Characters: Chris, Seungmin

A/N: So a lot of people have been wondering what Chan has been thinking... Welp... You get what you wish for... even though it ain't pretty. I wanted to punch him writing it. This is after Chris gets banned from the hospital room. Since it is following him and not the reader, I decided to give it a different name, with the annotation being 7.5. Happy anger management people!

ALL THE SKZ IRL ARE CINNAMON ROLLS THIS IS A FICTION- IT'S FAKE.

I Can't Lose you Masterlist-CLICK HERE

Stray Kids Masterlist-CLICK HERE

ALL WORK IS UNDER ME AND MY BLOG. DO NOT TRY TO REPUBLISH OR STEAL MY WORK, AS THAT IS COPYRIGHTED UNDER ME AND IS CONSIDERED COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT WHICH IS A PUNISHABLE OFFENSE.

ANY WORK THAT YOU SEE ON OTHER SITES THAT ARE MY WORKS PLEASE NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY.

BEFORE:

Han looked up at Bin, trying to will himself not to cry. The both of you are so sweet, so kind. He could see the weight on Bin’s shoulders, crushing him. He could see it in his head, Bin keeping everything bad from crashing on top of you, his arms outstretched, using his whole body as a shield. Han knew that if it meant keeping you safe, Bin would carry the world. That’s what separated Bin from Chris.

Both may be fond of you. Only one has ever put your safety over everything. Only one ever made you feel heard and seen. Only one ever made you laugh until you cried. Only one would take off work to take care of you when you’re sick. Only one made you understand that there is no priority above you. Only one would calm you with just a touch. Only one truly loves you with their heart and soul. That “only one” was in the bed with you right now.

Han watched, eventually just letting the tears fall as Bin held you saying, “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you, I’m sorry. I love you… I’m so sorry. Don’t leave me.”

That was the first time Changbin had ever let himself say it out loud, “I love you so much it hurts…I Can’t Lose You.”

NOW:

Chan’s POV:

I have never seen Y/N like that. A part of me wants to say that it was something that was a freak accident, that Soo and I were a freak accident. We weren’t. Y/N deserves to know that, to have it acknowledged. I want to scream that I regret it, that I want to take it all back, that I wanted to erase it all. That would be a lie.

You can’t regret something that you actually initiated. I don’t regret what I did. I wanted a release, I got a release. I wanted to feel exhilaration, I got it. What I am sorry for is getting caught. Of course I’d never say this out loud but, the truth is my marriage was a means to an end. She loves me, of course… and I love her… to an extent. I loved it when she would perk up when I came home, or be passed out on the couch, waiting for me to come home. In a lot of ways, Y/N is like a puppy. She would do all the tricks in the book to make me happy. If she was lucky, she’d get rewarded.

There is an even more fucked up part of me that is relieved that she knows. Sneaking around wasn’t the hard part. The hard part was making it look like I was with the boys when I wasn’t. Y/N is so close to the boys it was a pain in the ass, all it would’ve taken was one text and right there my cover would be blown. I know that I can come back from this, though. Soo never held a candle to my wife. I just told Soo whatever she wanted to hear. I made it worth it for her to do what she wanted… what we wanted, who am I kidding, I wanted it.

Everything is still so raw, she’s not really going to leave. I know she told me when we started dating, but I know that I can prove myself to her. She is the type to really believe that everyone is good inherently. It was something that I used to every advantage, if I’m honest. I’m obviously better than Changbin. I make more, I am more level headed… obviously… I am willing to do whatever I need to make sure I get what I want. How could she want anyone else? That’s like trading in a top of the line Ferrari for a beat up 1999 Taurus. Plus, she always gives people second chances. This is all one giant hiccup.

While the rest of the boys and I filed into the elevator, I heard her voice. She was so scared, I couldn’t hear exactly what she was saying, it was so meek, fragile… weak. That’s really the only downside to her. She is weak. Her emotions get the better of her always. Given, what happened would make anyone go crazy, but at the end of the day, she can’t keep control over her emotions. She is the type of person to read a room and follow the tone of the room. She isn’t a trendsetter, a leader. The only reason why the boys are the way that they are is because she is hurt. Something about their “white knight” complexes. Honestly I could puke just thinking about it. While they were playing games, painting, or just practicing on vocal technique, I was ensuring their continued employment. That will never change about her though. She folds under pressure. Like a skeleton with no spine. Sometimes it was exhausting, others amusing; that’s the biggest tell as to her coming back. She has no spine without me. She needs me… just like everyone else.

Knowing the woman Y/N is I knew that for her to be this way, she had to hurt so badly. It ripped my heart out, seeing her finding comfort in another person, almost as much as knowing that I was the one to do all of it to her. It made me look so bad, to everyone. Hearing Changbin call out to Han that she was slipping, I’ve never heard a voice like that before. I’ve never heard screams like hers. I should’ve never tested her, calling our child “it”. She has been trying so hard, comforting me non-stop, that it’ll happen when it’s meant to happen, that she’ll be on top of it. To let me know in the cutest way. Nothing’s more cute than finding out on your third anniversary that your family is going to get bigger.

It hurt me saying that, calling them “it”, that was exactly why I knew it would get the job done. I needed to peel her away from Changbin without touching her, but it worked a little too well. Why was I punsihing her, punishing them? I think the answer to that is simple. I don’t want the attention on me. Which is counterintuitive, given my natural tendencies. Right now, in this moment, I don’t want to be acknowledged. The way that they see me right now threatens everything I worked for, and it looks like everyone chose their side to stand on. Me giving them more of a chance to hate me is only going to make my job down the road harder.

I think some of the boys could tell. I am royally pissed. I got caught, which for one is annoying, but for all of them to take her side? That was infuriating. I spent so long honing them, training them. I always protected them, supported them. It is infuriating to have people that you did everything for to just dismiss you. Why were’nt they comforting me? That child was mine too. Why am I not getting any condolences? Hell, when we had no money to eat, I wouldn’t eat just so the 8 could have something… anything. The days I went to bed starving, the nights I worked around the clock to give them the opportunities that they now take advantage of.

This is how they repay me? Screaming at me left and right, Changbin threatening to kill me, even Felix turned his back. I just fucked a side piece… I mean I know what that caused is on me. That I was responsible for what happened to our child. If I could feel like I was attached I am sure I would’ve been a wreck. Something that was mine being taken away does that to a person like me. One thing is for sure, I truly never wanted to hurt her. I never wanted to look bad, hurting her would do that, and so I made sure to tread lightly, my go to’s being, “I know Baby, I’m sorry,” and “What time is it? Shit Baby I’m so sorry.”

That didn’t stop me to wanting to have my own little thing. My own little secret. It was a different type of high that I didn’t know I craved… needed. It’s no doubt that Soo did feel better in bed. I could tell she knew what she was doing. Y/N had no experience before me and that did a wonder for my corruption kink, but after that… It was like pulling teeth. I had to teach her everything, so every time we we’d sleep together I had to act like I liked the fact that she’s so innocent. Which I do, but I also don’t want to have to have a health class every time I wanted to have sex. Soo wasn’t like that. She knew what she was doing. Hmmm… maybe I’ll clean up the house and finish what we started.

In the elevator, no one wanted to say anything. I didn’t want to say anything either, I didn’t want to make anything worse than it is. It’s a unique empty feeling. Y/N would look at me like I hung the moon itself. The feelings that she gave me, I was seen, heard, and loved. Constantly reassured. I can’t live without that validation. The minute I walked out of the elevator I didn’t even look back, all I said was “Take care of her. Do what I didn’t, she needs you. Call me if you need anything.” That made me feel a little better, giving them an order, felt like the last say in a way.

It was Seungmin’s voice that cut through, I heard him stop the elevator with is arm, “That was never a question, we’ve always taken care of her, don’t wait up. We all know you’re not used to being the one waiting for someone. Wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.” My lip upticked at his comment. Mostly because I didn’t imagine Seungmin to have balls like that and another was that I didn’t have a rebuttal. I always have a rebuttal. He’s right though, I always kept her waiting, not the other way around. It always made me feel important, that she needed me to go to bed well, that she craved to feel me.Yet now I find myself willing to wait an eternity if it meant being able to hold her one more time, to have her cook for me, then to cuddle up and pass out together, all of that shit I see as a waste of time. To think I hate needing someone yet here I am, needing her.

I kept walking after I heard the elevator close. By the time I made it to the car I was trying my hardest not to collapse. My wife was in that hospital, fighting for her life, after I caused her to miscarry, a baby we have been wanting since our first anniversary. I am enraged. I’ve never felt so out of control and it’s driving me crazy. I am always in control. That is the only way that I function. It is something that I pride myself on. Now everything is out of place everyone stepped out of line. All I have to do is get them back in their rightful place… Then we can move on.

I’ve never imagined anyone else as the mother of my children, she is giving enough to focus on them while I work on my career. It’s always been Y/N. That thought was the one that made me slam my door a little too hard. She’s going to come back, she’ll be back. She will have my child, we will be happy… When everyone is in their place.

I tried to distract myself as I went home. It felt like an out of body experience, seeing myself in the rearview mirror, hating the person I saw, just for the sole fact of getting caught. It was such a rookie move. I should’ve known that there was something going on when everyone said they were out for the night. No matter how loud I made the radio, I heard noting but her screams. I wanted to blame someone, get the pain as far away from me as possible, trying to make me out to be the good one. I’m not. The only things I’m good at are music and acting. I could still see the little glances she’d give me, convincing herself that I am just busy. She is so trusting, it honestly baffles me. Just another sign that she’s weak.

I wanted to make it her fault. She shouldn’t be so naive. Seeing Soo disappearing at the same time I am? The way that I couldn’t really look her in the eye for most of last month? She should’ve told me sooner. Maybe if she did that our child would still be here. That’s not even including how I’ve had to keep Soo on a shorter leash than anyone, her face gives so much away. The first time she hung out with us I had to take her to another room and tell her to get it together because she almost started crying in front of Y/N. I know that people will say that’s not fair, What part about anything that I’ve done screamed ‘oh this is reasonable’? None. It’s been so long I’ve been doing this that I don’t even remember how all of this started. Ah I remember now.

I guess a year ago it started off with me venting to Soo. I didn’t know why we weren’t conceiving. We timed out the cycles, we did everything correctly, but still it wasn’t happening. If I told the boys I know I would look weaker for it and I didn’t want Y/N to be even more stressed about getting pregnant. Soo validated my feelings and told me that she was always there for me. That was the first mistake. I should’ve gone to Y/N. After a while it went from talking when I was aggravated to talking daily.

I looked forward to those calls so badly. It felt like a little interaction that was all mine. Making her laugh made me feel like when I used to get Y/N to laugh. The butterflies came soon after that, seeing that I got a form of attention I didn’t realize I was missing. About two months ago she told me that she was seeing me as “not just my friends husband”. That made my heart leap in my chest. I should’ve avoided her like the plague after that, I should’ve gone to my wife, but not only would that make her mad, it’d also make sneaking around harder. I did something worse.

“Good to know it’s not one sided.” I felt the words drip out of my mouth, even recounting it makes me a little excited. I turn onto my street and I heard Soo’s voice in my head, “Chris...” I knew it was wrong, I fucking knew it was, “I know. I know it’s wrong.” Then hearing her say, “What if she finds out?” with a giggle. “We’ll be discreet.”

We met up that night. I wanted to scrub myself head to toe, till my skin bled, making sure her scent was gone completely. It was so thrilling, so different, and I hated that I liked it. I liked it so much I knew I had to do it again, and soon too. Every time I came home Y/N was either passed out on the couch or in our bed. Notes left on the counter full of how much she loves me. I still remember the first one from that same night, “I know how forgetful you get in the studio, made extra of your favorite, it’s in the fridge, missed you-XOXO Y/N/N.” I looked at her form on the couch, clearly trying to stay up to see me. I ran to the bathroom to vomit, it made me anxious. I knew that I was playing with a downgraded version of my wife. If anything went wrong, I’d be left with the dollar store version of Y/N. For some reason that anxiety turned to exhiliration. The longer it went on for, the more comfortable I got of having my cake and eating it too.

She never did anything wrong. I asked for space, she gave me space. I asked for anything and she would do it in a heartbeat. She always wanted me happy and stress free. After a while I made it okay in my head by saying that she wants me to be happy and having both make me happy so it’s okay. I know better, I always knew better.

I always got up too early, that way I didn’t afford myself time to see the person that I love in one of my favorite ways to see her, happy and sleeping. The last few days I gave myself that. Feeling the guilt eat me alive, rightfully so. I felt guilty for putting all of this on the line, putting her on the line, not for her, but what losing her means to me. I’d practice my apology while she slept, “I’m so sorry, I love you.”

If it wasn’t for the boys being there, I could’ve had a better handle on her. I could’ve reiterated that practiced apology over and over. I could’ve kept the control I spent years making, which is really the most fucked up thing about all of this. I was in training for almost 10 fucking years, I finally get the perfect group of people who followed perfectly without question. Then Changbin goes ahead and goes soft for Y/N. She’s gorgeous, I know, she’s funny, and kind, but she was also making Bin step out of line a bit. Every time she was around, he would try to take point, try to be the center of attention. At first I thought that it was Bin trying to be cute. When he asked me how he could ask her out a few months after this started, I felt my stomach drop. She threatened everything I worked for. So I spewed some bullshit to make him question himself a bit more while I figured out what to do.

Some wouldn’t see this as a problem. I am not some. I only let my members have center because I permitted it. If I threw myself in the spotlight always, it would look off. So I made myself into the best, most supportive leader, the leader of the 4th generation, how can you get bigger than that? The perfect wife… Y/N. It was perfect, if I had her, not only would I have more control over Bin, but I’d also have the perfect little family one day. That was when I decided to ask her out after getting her separated enough from Bin. Which wasn’t too hard. There were some unseen snags but overall it was easy. Keeping her is going to be just as easy. When she’s healed. Then everyone will fall back in line.

I pull in to my driveway and go to the door. Once I opened up the door, Bins clothes covered in blood were there, taunting me. I walked further into the house, I looked on the mantle, the picture from our wedding hung there. I remember that day, that gorgeous day. I threw it away. That woman with the most infectious smiles, the woman who’d hold me so close during horror movies. I found myself grabbing that picture, I dragged my finger over her face. I heard her voice, “I love you”, and I collapsed on the floor, right next to the clothes, sobbing, clutching the photo. She was so perfect.

I got so mad at that point. I shouldn’t be crying, SHE ISN’T LEAVING ME. I can fix her just like I fixed everything else around me. My perfect wife, My perfect group, MINE.

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THE CHAOS EXPRESS 🚂❤️❤️

@Fuckthinking, @feybin , @1-800-shedevil , @channiesbakery, @channieswhore , @hwangswhore , @seungminhour , @skzms, @angstraykids, @roseykat , @seventeenytiny , @dreaming-medium , @thunderous-wolf , @hanjsquokka , @moonjxsung , @diddybok , @fics-lovebot, @seungminssangel, @straykeedz, @tasteracha, @ven-fic-recs , @euphoric-univers, @camilagonzalex, @juskz, @antoniorhinothethird, @mariteez, @armystay89, @i-like-nougat, @yeonjunsfox, @laylasbunbunny ,@uwuitsjungwoo , @3racha-soup , @bandolls , @bomi-ja , @skzfairyyyf8te , @3rachababygirl , @symptoms-of-moonlight , @hiddlestandom , @stay-fr0sty-r0yal-milk-tea , @8rach4, @bear8585 , @tenshimara , @galamxy, @fairlylilo , @skzms, @lolareadsimagines , @lillithathecat , @manuosorioh , @jazziwritesthings , @soulsbbg , @tuskaruska , @emmxxsworld , @maaatyroshka , @orchid-mantis-petals , @thisrandomgoofy15 ,

#bangchan #bang chan #bang chan imagines #bang chan x reader #Seungmin #kim seungmin #stray kids imagine #stray kids #stray kids angst #skz fanfic #skz imagines #skz #skz angst #skz scenarios #skz x you #stray kids x reader #I wanna punch him #try this shit on me I dare you #narcissistic personality disorder

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honeypipin · 6 months

Text

Pirate Captain König: Pt. 2

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Disclaimer: some vulgar words, and König just loves touching you, don't you love being his new fidget toy?!

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After being paraded onto his ship by König and his men, being tied to his bed and then left to your own devices, this was certainly not the worst outcome, but still. Almost getting martyred was not going great.

It's not even a comfortable bed, just enough to keep you warm and let you sleep for the night, and the pillow is way too tough. You miss your goose feather pillows.

Your peace and quiet is soon disturbed, as a booming laughter enters the room, a certain captain.

You glare at him.

"What's with the sour look, Schatzi? Did you miss me?"

Your glare morphs into a scowl, however this only seems to amuse the captain further. He sits down next to you, and pats his lap.

You try to resist him, but when he pulls you into his lap, there isn't much you can do but cling to him.

"Isn't that better?"

"I prefer the bed."

"Then you'll love getting fucked on it."

"Do you have to say those things!?"

"Yes."

You don't really know what to say to that, so you just look away and allow him to fidget with your hair.

"...could you please untie me?"

"..." He pauses, and thinks about it.

"Um, hello?"

"When you behave."

"What?"

He ignores you??? Dickhead. Carries on playing with your hair, until he starts to move his hands towards your hips, he thumbs your sides.

He still says nothing. Well, someone has to break the silence.

"What's with the mask?"

"...long story"

"Well you did kidnap me, so I would have no choice but to listen."

"..."

He won't look you in the eyes, instead just massaging your hips. Now, you'd be lying if you said it wasn't relaxing, but also, how is he saying he's going to fuck you on his bed, but now won't look you in the eye? Are you having a laugh?!

You sighed and looked at him, christ, the days at sea were not good for his sleep, were they?

"Alright, I get it, sensitive subject."

He finally looks you in the eyes, sort of apprehensively, is he... nervous? Maybe he's uncomfortable, good, he deserves it.

But... his eyes!!! Why are they so cute? Why is he giving you puppy eyes right now? Why are they so hurt? Why do you just want to squish his face? Is this what the girls in your village meant by loving pathetic men? You understood it now, that's for sure.

"So um... you're pirate."

"Yes."

"Captain?"

"Correct."

"Good for you."

...

This is just awkward. Don't really know what you expected, but why is your kidnapper/pirate captain so awkward? He just keeps... touching you? Its like he's in a trance.

He just stares at you, eyes wide in facination, has it been that long since he's held someone close?

"Captain König... are you alright?"

Since when did he have a gun in his pockets?

#könig cod #könig mw2 #könig x reader #konig #konig call of duty #konig cod #konig modern warfare #konig mw2 #konig x reader #könig #pirate!könig #pirate au #lovethatsexyman

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latelyanobsession · 3 months

Note

Hello dear <3 what about X, F, and O for Billy Hargrove? a tiny smooch for your great writing :*

F - Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? Do they wanna get married?)

Billy can be fairly skittish when it comes to commitment. He acts very detached and uncaring about the subject, maybe he even avoids it at times. He certainly doesn't enjoy conversations about it and has offloaded more than a few partners who were considering it.

Long-term and married life is not something Billy has ever thought about. It's not something he thinks he's entitled to. He doesn't deserve it. He's not cut out for it. People never tend to stick around for long in his life. You may have managed to last this long but he's always fighting down this feeling in the back of his mind that it will all come crashing down someday and he shouldn't get his hopes up. That there's no point in dreaming. There's no point in reaching for fairy tales. Just make the good times last. And when it all dries up? He'll grab a couple sixers, drown his sorrows, and call it squared.

O - Open (When do they open up about themselves?)

Billy is someone who has learned throughout his life that vulnerability comes at a high price. That sensitivity is a negative trait. That showing your softer side is a weakness and it gets you hurt. He is a very suspicious, cautious, and guarded person. He looks distant and uncaring because he takes time to size up every person before interacting with them. When he determines it is safe to interact with others, he showboats, flexes, dominates, and intimidates in an attempt to prove how invulnerable, strong, and confident he is.

It is most likely that Billy would not intend to open up to you. You would be subject to his armored display as much as any other person. It would be a matter of whether or not you could find the chinks and begin coaxing out that sensitive and scared boy behind it. In shared moments, he may offer small tokens about himself to test your authenticity. If you take genuine interest in the information he shares and offer him a safe and understanding space he would begin to unwind himself somewhat but would still always be holding back just enough that he could always flee at a moment's notice.

X - Xtra (Random HC)

Billy gets fussy over you when you look a little "too nice" on date night. If your shirt is open wider than his, he starts readjusting the shoulders for you. If your jewelry draws more attention and sparkle, there's suddenly an arm around you and Billy chastising you for wearing everything you own out the door. "You wanna get jumped?"

It's not that Billy doesn't want you to flaunt it, but he worries. He worries so damn much that someone that looks this good (even better than him) might leave him. He doesn't always believe that you dress to impress him. Or that those little one-night wonders are solely for him. So he dims your light sometimes to soothe his own anxieties.

F - Favourite Position (This goes without saying.)

Billy's favorite position is without a doubt, 'face down, ass up'. Whether that's a traditional doggy, some variation, or bending a partner over some manner of furniture, he gets what he wants. He wants angle and depth with every stroke.

His other favorites involve a little more work on his part and a lot of flexibility on your part, but if managed it's all the better for you both. A wildcard favorite of his is when he rolls you to your side, pinning one of your legs beneath him and wrapping the other around his hip. Taking you this way he can get all the depth he wants while watching your face scrunch and your jaw slacken each time he rams that sweet spot inside you. He additionally has better flexibility to play with you, should he so desire.

O - Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Billy has a strong preference for giving, and that's an understatement. It has little to do with control and more to do with praise. He spends his days constantly feeling or being outright told that what he does is wrong. But when he has you on your back, with your nails imprinting crescents into his shoulders, and your spine coiled tighter than a spring? He knows he's doing something right. He's doing good. Hearing you choke and gasp as you throw your head into the pillows is the closest he's come to an "atta boy!" in weeks and he's greedy for more. He wants to nip and pluck at the thin skin below your ear until your hips grind and buck against his. He wants to bite and suck at your tongue until you whimper and shiver in his arms. He's so hungry to please you because you always provide that confirmation. That he's wanted.

This is in comparison to his near indifference at times to receiving. Billy craves a lot of stimulation and bores easily, so holding still to be gone down on rarely works for him unless you get exotic and trail your tongue further south... Ever the adventurer, he will nearly fall to pieces if you eat him out. Tease him a good while, and he will be the most agreeable you've ever seen him.

X - X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Billy is generously proportioned but by no means intimidating in size. He's uncircumcised with a deep rosy head that fully pushes back against the foreskin when he's at his peak. His sheath can be deceiving, making him appear visually longer with a graceful upward curve to his erect shaft. He hits all the right places just by the default of his nature. What he packs the most is girth. Heavy in hand, and warm on the tongue. You always feel empty when he pulls out.

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wxnheart · 1 year

Text

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬.

note: I'm expanding on what I call my Just Be series (which started with König/Just Kingly Things) and what better way to do that than to do one for Babygurl? heads up, this list touches on some sensitive subjects, too. hope y'all enjoy it!

Ghost vividly remembers his father’s words, spurred by misery and an alcoholic rage. He remembers the times when the wretched bastard would tell him that he was unlovable and would amount to absolutely nothing. And surprise, surprise, Simon believes believed this.

He remembers his mother’s smile, strained and… and lifeless. He can count on one hand the number of times it reached her eyes. It was never around his father.

Simon also thinks of his brother, anxiety and tension fueling their fights; they fought each other because they couldn’t fight anyone else. Not the ones they wanted to fight, that is.

Ghost remembers the day when he took matters into his own hands and stood up to their father. He remembers the abject fear in the miserable fuck’s eyes and finally—

He remembers the hopeful smile his mother gave him later. He remembers seeing the tension and stress literally leave his brother’s body.

Even if he didn’t show it often, Simon was damn proud to see his family’s life turn around for the better. Simon remembers his brother pledging his life and love to new his sister-in-law. He remembers swallowing a bitter pill to support him and the singular thought running through his mind the entire time: ‘Where’s my happiness?’

And despite his upbringing, Ghost is very much a marriage-minded individual (to his surprise). You’d be forgiven for thinking otherwise because he keeps to himself.

A relationship with Simon is best described as a slow burn. Your attraction to him would be more apparent than his desire for you. Simon would be extremely hesitant in the beginning to pursue you for a plethora of reasons, the main one being a hidden fear that he’ll turn out like his father. He internalized every single thing the miserable shit told him. A close second one is, well, his profession. He figures that not many people can stomach the things he’s seen and done. Gotta have a certain strength of will to deal with everything that comes with him. You have to have patience as well.

You’re up for the challenge but Simon is still skeptical hence why your relationship with him will develop fairly slowly. Funnily enough, Soap will be your wingman and biggest supporter because the way he sees it, Ghost is just as deserving of love and happiness as the next person even if he thinks he isn’t.

And yeah, Ghost can give credit where it’s due. There are a lot of things he’s learned about himself thanks to you.

For starters, he’s learned that he’s a much more territorial person than he thought. Simon remembers the way his father would do his damnedest to hoard his mother’s attention and he does his best not to do that with you.

It’s hard to make him laugh but he always finds the sides of his mouth quirking whenever you tell a shitty joke. From anyone else, he wouldn’t be impressed but you… yeah. Offbeat humor suits you. It doesn’t hurt to chuckle after all.

When you first called him handsome, something new, something different aside from all the bullshit insults hurled at him or Ghost or Simon, he was immediately on edge if only because he’d never felt so… flattered before. Yeah, that’ll take some getting used to but he’d be a fucking liar if he didn’t think your compliments made his day. Or that he feels some type of way when you compliment someone else.

You two can agree to disagree. Civilly, might I add, and without the theatrics. What better way to pacify a mean fuck than to agree with everything they said, even when it was loud and wrong? Simon’s glad to not have to walk on eggshells, to realize that there can be peace even in the midst of conflict.

He can never forget the joy in your eyes that day when you two crossed that bridge and made your relationship official (“About damn time, Lt.” “Shut up, Johnny.”). You’re practically glowing and he allows himself to feel, to believe that he’s everything his father said he’d never be. You hug him tightly and yeah, Simon figures he’ll be just fine.

Your smile reaches your eyes and he thinks he’s found his happiness after all.

Just Ghostly things, amirite?

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty warzone #call of duty x reader #task force 141 #just ghostly things.#cw: mentions of abuse #cw: mentions of alcoholism #cutie 𝓠.#request fill.

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bunnyshideawayy · 3 months

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cassian. great man, wonderful friend, absolutely terrible mate.

we have seen Nesta’s sisters, who arguably have less of a reason, defend her more than Cassian has ever thought about. HELLO?

my issue with cassian acosf and onward is that we are truly expected to believe they he deeply understands Nesta when he’s been shown time and again to never stick up for her and never fully trust her. he does nothing to help her over come and face her traumas / depression, she’s left to do that on her own, but best believe he’s down to fuck and make her hike! (no sarah sex and physical exercise are not cures)

after reading the entire series once and now twice seeing Rhys threatening anyone who dares breath wrong in Feyre’s direction under the guise of just “protecting his mate” i find it extremely hard to believe cassian allowed or even sides with anyone who speaks ill of/to Nesta or threatens her- all of which Rhysand and most of the IC (besides her sisters and Az) do, most of the time while directly in front of cassian in conversations he’s involved in. the most he does is…pout a little? throws a hissy fit? the two times i can remember him even remotely stick up for Nesta he immednantly backtracks as soon as Rhysand pushes back, both times the final decision being put in Feyre’s hands, this continues even into CC3 (and let’s thank the mother Feyre loves her sisters which is something ik yall nesta haters can’t stand.)

let’s move onto something i know yall don’t want to talk about, his verbal abuse. “oh but nesta also said-“ we know what she said, that is not the point. if this man knew all along nesta was his mate and truly wanted to help her heal from her traumas and depression why did he take every chance he could to provoke her? Nesta called Rhysand an asshole, and he IS especially to Nesta, and instead of keeping silent as he does when Rhys/the IC harshly critique her, he immediately gets angry and in her face to defend him. funny he can’t do that with her, his MATE? or let’s talk about this scene

oh okay! that’s totally something you say unprompted to your mate who is severely depressed and traumatized because she won’t eat! she’s totally not shaking because she’s triggered! then to add the lecture “we’ve been here before, too” oh okay! so you admit you know what she feels like (very doubtful although i’m not going to compare their traumas, both are valid he just does not understand her like he thinks he does) it’s patronizing and a little frustrating. she doesn’t want to be there in the first place, purposely throwing a sensitive subject in her face will not magically motivate her or cure her- she is simply doing what she has no choice in. she has been stripped of all autonomy, humanity, and “normality”- she feels alone and valuable in a way she as never felt before and she has NO HELP. none!

i’ll end with the hike. yay more physical activity as punishment- but if i said that was abuse yall will bring up the pregnancy so ill do it for you! Yes, Nesta was wrong to tell Feyre THE WAY SHE DID, she had every right to tell Feyre about her own body and pregnancy, it just shouldn’t have happened the way it did. everyone knew it was wrong to keep it from Feyre, even Cassian, so instead of forcing her to hike a mountain as punishment to ware her down mentally and physically he couldve stood up for both Feyre and Nesta to Rhysand the moment he threatens to KILL NESTA. a simple “hey buddy you knew it was wrong to keep that from Feyre you can’t kill my mate for telling her even if it was out of anger” would suffice. not once during their entire hike or during her breakdown does he reassure her, not even when she is tearing herself apart because she doesn’t feel worthy. don’t even get me started on what happens in CC3.

over all i think Nessian is great and they have some great moments, the end of ACOWAR lives rent free in my mind but i am incredibly disappointed with Cassian. i do feel like Nesta deserves better from everyone (besides Feyre and Elain who, again, are the only ones who i truly believe love her unconditionally.)

anti nesta’s this is not a safe space for you.

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heauxvibez · 3 months

Text

Brown Skin Girl

Warning: Talks of colorism, fluff

Took everything in life, baby, know your worth I love everything about you, from your nappy curls To every single curve, your body natural

"Baby girl, what's wrong?" Roman's concerned voice filled the room as he gazed at the pouting woman nestled on his lap.

She lowered her gaze, tears welling in her eyes, tracing paths down her cheeks, cheeks he had come to adore with every fiber of his being.

Sniffling, she whispered, "Nothing."

Roman sighed, a gentle furrow forming on his brow as he brushed a stray coil of hair from her forehead. His thumb moved tenderly, wiping away the tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

"Baby, you can't sit here and tell me everything's fine when you're clearly upset," he insisted.

Sage had endured a lot while he'd been away, busy promoting his upcoming fight. Yet, in his presence, she had always managed to mask her pain, putting on a brave face.

But the relentless onslaught of social media had been taking its toll on her, slowly chipping away at her confidence. Ever since they had decided to make their relationship public, she had become the subject of vicious rumors and hurtful comments.

Oh, how she wished she could turn back time and keep their relationship private.

The cruelty of people's words cut deep, particularly the remarks about her skin color—an aspect of herself she had long since come to terms with. Growing up with darker skin than those around her, she had faced criticism for something she had no control over. But over time, she had learned to embrace and love herself just as she was.

Yet, since the announcement of their relationship, Roman's fans had been awful. They zeroed in on her insecurities until she began to believe their hurtful words.

"You basically downgraded by being with me," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper, her lip trembling as she chewed on it nervously.

Roman's heart sank as he listened to the woman he adored degrade herself. Guilt gnawed at him. As her partner, it was his responsibility to uplift her, to remind her of her beauty inside and out every single day. She had never shown signs of insecurity before, so he hadn't felt the need to shower her with compliments daily, but that was no excuse.

"Baby, what are you talking about?" he asked, shaking his head in disbelief as she shifted in his lap, meeting his gaze with her dark brown eyes.

She sniffled, "Roman, you know exactly what I mean. Look at me, and then look at you. You deserve someone much better than me."

A soft chuckle escaped her lips, "I don't deserve you."

Sage nervously fiddled with her fingers, tears threatening to spill over once more.

"I've heard the same hurtful words my whole life. That I'm ugly, and so is my complexion," she admitted, her voice cracking with emotion.

Roman's frown deepened.

Taking her hands in his, he sighed deeply, his thumb tracing soothing circles on her skin as he gazed into her eyes. She captivated him with her beauty, unaware of the effect she had on him. Even as tears streamed down her face, he couldn't help but be drawn to her.

"Oh, baby girl," he murmured, gently lifting her chin with his index finger, forcing her to meet his gaze. The intensity in her eyes could make any man's knees weak.

The weight of his gaze made her heart flutter, and a small smile tugged at the corners of Roman's lips. Gently, he laid her down on the couch, maintaining eye contact, which caused a blush to spread across her ebony cheeks.

Positioning himself between her legs, Roman held her frame beneath him, his presence comforting and reassuring. Her heart raced in her chest, her pulse quickening at his touch.

Goosebumps rose on her skin as his calloused hands explored the curves of her body, admiring the areas where she had just a little more meat than most people.

His touch was firm yet gentle, eliciting a giggle from Sage as his hands roamed over her thighs, tickling her sensitive skin.

Grunts escaped Roman's lips as he watched her take her full bottom lip between her teeth, the sight nearly driving him wild. How could she dare call herself ugly? Her beauty was breathtaking, undeniable, and anyone who thought otherwise needed their head examined.

Roman's hand caressed the side of her face, his thumb brushing against her trembling bottom lip before releasing it. He shook his head, disbelief in his eyes.

"Sometimes I wonder if I'm even good enough for you, baby. Your beauty is unmatched; you make me look ugly," he chuckled.

Sage playfully rolled her eyes, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"It's an honor just to be with you, Sage," he whispered.

His words touched her deeply, her lips curving into a smile.

Lifting her head, their lips barely a breath away from each other, Sage pulled back slightly. Roman melted under her touch, completely in awe of her.

"And your skin...baby, you know you're my chocolate drop," he teased, causing her to throw her head back in a fit of laughter.

Roman joined her laughter, burying his head in the crook of her neck. His beard and lips brushed against her skin causing her grip around his neck to tighten and a whimper to escape her lips.

"You have the most beautiful skin. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise," he mumbled against her skin, his voice tender.

"We're going to have children someday, and they'll inherit this skin. I can't be the only one reminding them how beautiful it is, can I?"

He pulled away to look at her, his eyes searching for confirmation.

"No," she responded softly, her gaze dropping under his intense scrutiny.

"Our children will inherit these beautiful features of yours, and I can't be the only one making sure they know just how beautiful they are. Right?"

She fought back a smile, her heart swelling with love.

"This skin and these features you're talking about are just a few of the reasons I fell in love with you," he confessed, his voice as soft as her skin.

Dipping his head back to her neck, Roman used his tongue to trace his name against her skin. Sage's breathing quickened as he moved to pepper her jawline with sensual kisses, each one sending her closer to ecstasy.

"Do you understand?" he murmured against her skin.

His kisses trailed up to her chin, tenderly caressing her lips and sucking on her bottom lip. With each touch, Sage felt any doubts she had about Roman's love for her fade away..

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Ummm okay I'm done for the night lol, I did not know how to end this but I hope ya'll enjoy the three things I've written tonight!

Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @spritelucozade @empressdede @alichesmi

#wwe #roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #wwefanfic #romanreignsimagine #romanreignsoneshot #fanfiction #roman reigns fluff

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boredmadamoiselle · 1 year

Text

She Will Be Loved

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader; Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Synopsis: Charles learns that if you can't take care of something, someone will for you.

Warnings: Angst. Charles a little toxic. English isn't my first language, it probably contains some mistakes. I tried my best but sorry in advance and if you want to correct or help me, you're welcome.

Author's note: Don't know if I like this or hate it, so let me know what you think. Your feedback is always appreciated and is important for me. If you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to write them and I will take into consideration.

Beauty queen of only eighteen, she had some trouble with herself He was always there to help her, she always belonged to someone else I drove for miles and miles, and wound up at your door I've had you so many times, but somehow I want more

You had met Lewis a few months ago at the Paris Fashion Week. He was there for the Valentino show as their guest; you, instead, were one of the models chosen to walk the runway.

You didn’t know he’d be there; you were walking down the catwalk when you saw him sitting in the front row, his eyes staring at you. You continued to walk as if nothing had happened, but it was the first time you saw Lewis since breaking up with Charles, your ex, F1 driver and also Lewis’ colleague.

Later that day, you had seen him at the after party organized by Valentino. As he walked towards you, part of you wanted to run away. Seeing him brought back so many memories, as it was hard to see Lewis and not to think about Charles. And that was the last thing you wanted, after it had taken you long to forget him and move on with your life. But Lewis wasn’t to blame for what had happened with your ex. You could see that he seemed visibly happy to see you again and you couldn’t deny that you were too.

You had always liked Lewis, he wasn’t just one of the best drivers in the world but he was also a good person and when you used to go to races, you liked talking to him. Even if he was a 7-time world champion, he had remained a humble and sensitive person, as well as very intelligent. And yeah, he was also extremely handsome.

You didn’t keep yourself update on Formula 1 anymore, not as you used to do once, but from what you had heard, you knew he wasn’t doing well as in the past and you feel sorry for him. He didn’t deserve it. Despite that, his face lighted up when he saw you and in the end, you stayed.

Not much in the mood to celebrate, you ended up walking the streets of Paris, chatting and enjoying the beauty that the city had to offer you. Even though he must be curious and have questions about the end of your relationship with Charles, especially when everything seemed to be fine, Lewis didn’t touch the subject even once and you were secretly grateful to him. Later, like the gentleman he was, he had accompanied you to the hotel and greeted you on the cheek.

The next day you had found a big bouquet of roses in your room sent by Lewis. There was also a note in which he thanked you for the beautiful night and that he hoped to repeat it again and as soon as possible. Deep in your heart you wanted it too.

A few weeks later, while you were getting ready for a photoshoot, you were scrolling your Instagram when some pictures captured your attention. Your eyes filled with tears but you immediately chased them away as you didn’t want to ruin your makeup. You took a better look at the photos. They portrayed your ex with a girl. He was smiling and seemed happy. You, on the other hand, were hurt but angry as well.

As your heart broke into a thousand pieces, his words played on repeat in your head, which now appeared to be more lies than anything else. Suddenly everything seemed clearer to you. He hadn’t left you because he wanted to focus on his career as he had said. He just didn't love you as much as you did. As much as you still did, you needed to recognize, and those photos proved it. Despite the pain you felt, you ended up putting your best smile for the photographer, showing professionalism and dedication to your job as always. You had worked hard to get where you were and weren't going to let your past ruin it. Fuck him, you thought. I’ll focus on my career too now.

At the end of the photo shoot, when you were back in the dressing room, a message was waiting for you. You face lit up as you saw it was from Lewis and smiled even more seeing what he had written.

Hey

Are you okay?

After that night you started keeping in touch. Even with different time zones and being almost always on the other side of the world, there was no day you didn't talk or send texts to each other. He had also invited you to go to some races but you had declined. You weren’t still ready for that. And to see him.

A few months later you had finally met Lewis again. After your success at the Paris Fashion week, you had become very popular in the world of fashion and beyond. Everyone – the most important fashion houses, magazines, and lots of brands – wanted you, including Anna Wintour, who had invited you to the Met Gala. You couldn't wait to go to one of New York's most exclusive events, especially knowing that Lewis would have been there too.

He originally proposed you went together but you politely declined. Even if you wanted to go out on a date with Lewis, the Met Gala wasn’t the right place and the right time. Everyone would have seen you and talked about you two. You wanted people to talk about you for who you really were and for what you did, not because you were with the 7-time world champion. You didn't want history to repeat itself.

When you and Charles had broken up, soon after your career had started to take off and many had insulted you for that. They thought you had used the Monegasque only for fame and that when you had gotten what you wanted, you had just left him. If only they knew how wrong they were, you thought. The truth was you didn’t want to leave him, he just didn’t give you choice.

“There isn't much to say. We simply wanted different things and we both need to focus on our career”, he had said when a journalist had asked him about your break-up.

Yeah, you wanted to focus on your career and I… wanted to be with you. But apparently, I wasn’t in your plans anymore, you had thought at the time.

As you walked the red carpet at the same time as Lewis, you could feel his eyes on you while posing for photographers. Given your previous relationship, the others knew that you and Lewis knew each other, so you quickly said hello to each other.

“You are beautiful tonight”, he whispered in your ear, as you kissed him on the cheek. You smiled at his words.

Later that night you invited him to your place where, between the covers of your bed, you got to know each other better.

After that whenever he was off, Lewis was often in the States or joined you wherever your job brought you only to see you. It was good for him, you were good to him. The time he spent with you helped him get distracted and not think about what happened on track.

Things between you quickly became serious and you could say you were secretly dating. In fact, no one knew about you two and in some ways, it was simpler that way. On the other hand, even if he was patient and willing to wait, Lewis wanted to make things official as soon as possible and tell the whole world the truth. That you were his. And most of all he wanted and needed you by his side during races. You knew that sooner or later that was inevitable. But you were afraid of what people would have thought and said.

Also, you wanted to talk to your ex before going public with Lewis. You didn't owe him anything, but Lewis was still Charles’ colleague, and you didn't want things between them to get tense because of you. That’s why you were holding your phone and looking at Charles’ number. Again. Shortly after your breakup, you had erased it just as he had erased you from his life but you still remembered it. Like so much else, it was engraved in your mind.

You kept staring at the phone hoping the call would go off by itself. On one hand, the very idea of hearing him, even just on the phone, terrified you; on the other side, you terribly wanted to hear his voice.

You were having a déjà vu as you have already experienced this situation, months ago when after your breakup you spent most of your time waiting for him to call you or hoping he would. But you never heard from him again. It was also for this reason that you were hesitant to call him. Calling him first would’ve been like admitting defeat. And you didn't want to lose any more. You had already lost too much.

You ended up never calling him. And soon it’d be no longer necessary.

A few weeks later, in fact, you were entering the paddock at the Grand Prix of Austin. When Lewis had had an accident during the qualifying the day before, you had decided to join him to check on him and cheer him up. You wanted to be there for him as he had been there for you.

You had originally planned to stay at the hotel watching the race from there, but in the end, seeing how frustrated and demoralized Lewis was, you had decided to go to the Grand Prix. You knew he needed you there. And in fact, when you had told him about your decision, he had instantly become the happiest man alive as that really meant a lot to him.

Since you still wanted to be discreet, you hadn't arrived with Lewis and hadn’t used the main entrance. As you reached the Mercedes hospitality where Lewis was waiting for you, you hoped no one would recognize you. More than anything, though, you hoped you wouldn't meet Charles. Not yet at least.

Seeing the red building, the Ferrari hospitality, memories crossed your mind. It was strange not to enter it and to be there under those new circumstances; you almost felt like a stranger, an intruder. Yet for a long time that place had been like your home and you had been very happy there.

You were so deep in your own thoughts that it took a few seconds before you heard a voice calling you.

“Y/n? Is it really you?”

You froze. The hairs on the back of your neck started to rise, and you feel your cheeks getting warm. Even if your back was turned, you knew who that voice belonged to and as much as you wanted to run away, you turned around to face him. You could see the driver was visibly surprised and confused to see you.

“Ehi, Pierre. It’s good to see you again. How are you?” You forced yourself to smile at the French driver and hugged him. Actually, you had no problem with Pierre and part of you was happy to see him again, the fact was that of all the possible people, with the paddock full of people, it was him you had crossed paths with. Pierre Gasly, F1 driver and one of Charles’ best friends. If you had had any hope of going unnoticed, without Charles knowing you were there, you had lost it entirely now. Meeting him was like meeting Charles since he’d tell him that he had met you.

“I’m good, are you? But what are you doing here? Wait, are you and Charles…” You didn’t let him finish the sentence.

“No, we’re not”, you quickly said. After that you didn’t know what to say, so you simply told the truth. Sort of. “I was invited... Mercedes invited me. I’m their guest.” It wasn't entirely a lie but it wasn't the truth either.

Pretending to look at the clock, you continued. “Actually, I should go as I’m already late. But it was really good to see you, Pierre. Good luck for the race and be careful!”.

While you entered the Mercedes hospitality as quickly as you could, Pierre looked at you confused. You, on the other hand, breathed a sigh of relief once inside.

“Are you really sure it was her, Pierre?” Charles’ mind was racing as he couldn't believe what his friend just told him. He didn't know whether to hope Pierre was right or not.

“Mate, I know it seems unbelievable but I’m not going crazy or hallucinating. I told you: it was her.”

Charles fell silent and seeing his friend speechless, Pierre continued. “You know when I saw her I got a little offended because for a moment I thought you secretly got back together and didn't tell me anything.”

“It isn’t…", Charles quickly corrected his friend. "...Even if I wish it were.” He didn't want to say it at first, as it was hard for him to admit it but if there was anyone he could talk to about it, that was definitely Pierre.

Pierre could hear the sadness in Charles’ voice and he knew his friend wasn't the same since you two broke up, despite all his success.

“Well, then you might have your chance to get her back. Go talk to her”, Pierre suggested.

“I can’t, Pierre. I never even called her or looked for her… And even if I did, maybe she moved on.” Even if he was saying it, Charles hoped it wasn’t true but at that moment, he realized something. “Did you say she entered into the Mercedes hospitality?”, he continued.

Pierre nodded not fully understanding why he was asking, while Charles couldn’t come to terms with what he just thought.

“Wait, George is with Carmen and Lewis… You don't think the two are together, right?”, Pierre asked as he had finally connected the dots too.

“I don’t know, Pierre. But it’s strange that she’s here, moreover as a guest of Mercedes, when in all these months she has never come once. Why right now?”

Pierre looked at his friend not knowing well what to say.

“And then you'll remember Lewis has always had a crush on Y/n… I certainly haven't forgotten the way he looked at her when we were dating”, Charles said while jealousy taking hold of him.

“Of course, he had, Charles. I too had a crush on her, everyone had. She is stunning, smart and funny. But I don't need to tell you that, you yourself know it very well”, Pierre said.

Yeah, Charles perfectly knew that.

“Maybe it’s something related to her job. It wouldn’t be the first time that top models come to see a F1 race and then, you know Lewis is into fashion”, Pierre continued.

“Yeah, I know. And maybe he is into her too”, Charles said. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he was. Pierre’s words played on repeat on his mind. You know Lewis is into fashion, he had said. They could have gotten closer through fashion, Charles thought. Lewis used to attend some fashion show and Charles remembered seeing a photo of you together during a party a few months ago. You were just talking in the picture, nothing more but the sight of you together had been enough at that time to make him jealous. He should have been the one with you, not Lewis. But he was the only one to blame if you weren’t with him. He had sent you away. And for what? He had given up on you to focus on his career and chasing fame, victory and even if he had actually won everything and that had been one of the best year of his entire career, he had lost the most important thing in his life: you. And he couldn’t forgive himself for that. All those awards meant nothing if you weren't there with him. In the end, if he had gotten there where he was, it was also thanks to you. You had loved him and supported him before he became Il Predestinato.

What if you had actually moved on?, Charles thought. He couldn't bear to think it was true, least of all with Lewis. The very idea was unbearable to him.

He looked at his clock. There was still time before the race started. Pierre was right, he had to do something, at least he had to try. Even if he had to race later, Charles had a bigger race to run at that moment: he needed to win you back.

You were behind the Mercedes hospitality smoking a cigarette as you waited for Lewis to finish his debrief and join you before the race to spend some time together. As you needed some air, you had decided to go out.

You were surprised but at the same time disappointed you hadn't seen Charles yet. You didn’t know what you really wanted. Part of you wished to see him and his reaction at the sight of you; on the other hand you were scared that you wouldn't see any reaction from him. It’d mean that he didn’t care about you anymore. And that would have broken your heart. Again and again.

You were smoking to try to calm yourself and yet all you could do was think about him and distress yourself. It wasn't good for you to be alone, so you decided to go back inside. You threw the cigarette away and turned around. But you froze immediately.

There he was, your ex-boyfriend standing in front of you and looking at you intensely. You, on the other side, were unable to say or do anything. How long had he been there?, you asked yourself. Why was he there? Was he walking and saw you by chance? Or was he looking for you?

After what it seemed an eternity to you, he broke the silence. “I thought you quit smoking”, he said pointing at the cigarette on the floor.

Yes, you had. But you can't say no to certain vices for too long.

“Hello to you too, Charles. And yeah, I did but I still smoke sometimes. Occasionally. For example, when I’m nervous”, you explained saying too much and exposing yourself. Why were you explaining yourself to him? You don’t have to. He is nothing to you, you thought.

He was approaching you, so you took a step back until you were pinned against the wall. “Are you nervous now, Y/n?”, he teased you. He knew what he was doing to you. Just hearing him talking was enough to turn you on.

“No, I’m not”, you lied. You were just dying inside.

Charles looked at you better. God, how beautiful you are, he thought. Even if you were wearing just a top, a pair of jeans and sneakers, you were breathtaking. Simple but beautiful, as he always liked you and he couldn't take his eyes off you.

He smirked noticing the color of you top. “I can see you still wear red”, he said.

Fuck, you thought. With a closet full of clothes, you made the choice to wear a red top that remembered Ferrari. How did you not think about it? Force of habit, you thought. When you and Charles dated, you always used to wear something red during race weekend as a sign of support towards him.

On the other side, Charles loved to see you in that color, even now that you weren’t together anymore. It didn't just say who you rooted for but also who you belonged to: his and no one else's. And the fact that you were wearing it when you were probably with Lewis made him smile and turned him on. Maybe there is still hope, Charles thought.

You shook your head, fully aware of what he really meant. “It’s just a color”, you simply said. But it wasn’t and you knew it. Deep down you were still rooting for him. You always would have.

You looked away, unable to hold his gaze as his eyes roamed over your body and how they darkened as he took in the details, the tension building up. Charles knew you were lying, he knew you too well.

Pinned against the wall with his hands to the side of your face, he put a lock of hair behind your ear.

There were a million things Charles wanted to tell you, to ask you – important things – but in the end jealousy got the better of him. “What are you doing here, Y/n?”, he asked and kindly grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him.

The time had come, you thought. That moment you had been waiting for but at the same time postponing for so many weeks, it was there. Now or never, you thought. You had to tell him about Lewis.

“I’m here for Lewis”, you whispered.

So, I was right, Charles thought. You are here for Lewis, there is something between you. But what? Even if he already knew the answer, he had to try, get to the bottom of the matter.

“That’s nice of you. It’s important to be there for friends. Can I be your friend too?” Charles knew he was going too far but he couldn't resist, his eyes studying your face for some kind of clue. Anything that confirmed that you were just friends.

You rolled your eyes and ignoring his question, you got straight to the point. “Charles, we aren’t friends. I mean, yes, we are but not just that. We are dating, actually.”

A sigh expelled past his lips, his head hanging low so you couldn’t see his eyes.

Charles’ mind was racing as he couldn’t come to terms with what you just told him. His worst fears had come true. He had lost you. No, it couldn’t be, Charles thought. That couldn’t be the end.

“Really? With a Mercedes guy, Y/n? That’s not your place”, he said looking back at you.

You had never seen that look on his face before, it portrayed… Anger? Maybe. Annoyance? Also. But there was something else too. Jealousy. He was jealous.

Even if his jealousy pleased you because it meant he still felt something for you, you still got angry at his words. Who did he think he was to say that?, you thought.

“And let’s hear, what would be my place, uhm, Charles? Where?”, you challenged him.

Seeing that he didn't speak, you repeated the question and started beating him on the chest. “Come on, answer, coward!” You didn’t care if people were hearing you. You had waited too long for this moment.

He grabbed your wrists, stopping you. Your eyes, filled with tears, peered up at him, waiting for his answer. “With me… Your place is with me, Y/n.”

Even if you felt a tingling and loving feeling at his words and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want that your place was with him, you couldn’t forget how badly he had treated you. How could you believe him after what he had done to you? How could he look straight in your face and say that? How?, you asked yourself and got even angrier if possible.

“With you?”, you joked. “After you kicked me out as soon as you had everything you wanted and when you didn't need me anymore? Are you serious, Charles?”, you asked him and sighed.

He glanced away, unable to look at you as he felt ashamed. He let your wrists and sighed. “I made a mistake, okay? I thought I needed to focus on my career and that to do so I had to leave all distractions aside, but I never…”

“So now I was just a simple distraction, Charles?” You felt your chest tighten as you let out a sob, you couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. “You know, I think I've heard enough. You're not the only one who made a mistake because I too thought you loved me and instead evidently......”

He didn't let you finish as he pushed you against the wall again and pressed his lips on yours. After the initial shock and even if you were angry with him, you didn't even try to resist him and kissed him back. His mouth was warm and soft. The kiss was nothing gentle and light, but intense and his hands were moving to squeeze at your waist, pulling you closer, and you completely melted into him. Even if all those months you had said otherwise, the truth was you had missed him, his touch on you… all that.

Even though you knew it was wrong towards you, towards Lewis especially, you didn’t stop him, you just enjoyed the moment, the feeling of his lips on yours. It was intoxicating, but it was also the only thing you needed at that moment.

That kiss was worth a thousand words. It contained everything you hadn’t said, how much you had missed each other and how much you…

“I never stopped loving you, Y/n, and you were never a distraction. Never. I made a mistake putting you aside just as I made a mistake not looking for you when I realized what I had done but I was too ashamed. And then.. I thought I didn't deserve you, that you were better off without me”, he sighed. “But I loved you, Y/n, and I still do. I know I don’t deserve it but if you feel the same, forgive me and take me back. Please”, he whispered, almost begging you.

… you loved each other.

You were speechless and your mind was racing, playing his words on repeat in your head. In all those months you hadn't wanted anything else, so many times you had imagined hearing him say those words and now he was finally saying them. But was it enough for you? After everything?

You were about to speak when you heard Lewis’ voice, scaring you to death. You and Charles quickly walked away from each other.

“Here you are”, the English driver said referring to you. “Hey, mate”, he said, greeting Charles.

Although you were scared to face him and were feeling incredibly guilty, you glanced at Lewis, he seemed relaxed but you didn't know how long he'd been there or what he'd heard. For all you knew, he might have heard all of it. You were too caught up in the moment to notice anything. What if he had actually heard it all and was faking it? You hadn’t said anything compromising, but you had kissed Charles back and that was enough to incriminate you. And even though he hadn't seen anything, you and Charles were too close for anyone to think you were just talking. Lewis wasn’t stupid and even if he was faking it, seeing your faces almost touching must have made him suspicious.

The last thing you wanted was hurting him, after he had treated you so well, showing you love and respect. But maybe it was already too late.

“Did I interrupt something?”, he asked.

You could feel the tension building up.

“No”, you quickly lied. “I went out for a smoke and we meet but he was leaving now.”

Charles looked at you, totally ignoring Lewis. This time it was you who was sending him away but he wasn't going to give up, not this time. That kiss had told him more than you were willing to tell him, at least not yet.

“Oh, that’s good. I imagine you had a few things to tell each other”, Lewis said.

You wondered if that was a way of saying that he had heard everything or simply an observation knowing what had happened between you and Charles in the past. You were about to tell him that you had told Charles about you and him but the Monegasque driver preceded you.

“Yeah, we had and by the way, she told me about you two”, he said finally looking at Lewis.

“Oh, well. This is a little embarrassing… But I hope it’s not a problem for you, for us.”

“No, it’s not. Just be smarter than me and treat her well”, Charles said surprising you. You looked at him. Was he letting you go? Was he giving up on you again?, you asked yourself.

You knew it was the right thing for you, especially if you wanted to make things work between you and Lewis, but part of you wanted to do nothing more than run into Charles’ arms and tell him to never leave you again. That you were his. Maybe you rushed things too far with Lewis… Maybe it wasn't too late for you and Charles,you thought.

“Oh, don’t worry. She will be loved”, Lewis exclaimed letting both of you speechless.

But in the end, Charles’ words weren’t enough for you, they couldn’t be. You needed something more and Lewis was willing to give it to you.

I don't mind spending every day Out on your corner in the pouring rain Look for the girl with the broken smile Ask her if she wants to stay a while And she will be loved And she will be loved

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demaparbat-hp · 4 months

Note

The issue is that you’re always giving Katara the bare minimum of her culture. In your AUs, she can’t have both a betrothal necklace and hair loopies - she either has to have one or the other. I couldn’t even tell that it was Katara in your Lee and Kya AU. I thought it was Jin.

I think it’s wrong to assume that anyone who has an issue with your Fire Nation Katara AUs are automatically jealous and bitter Zutara antis. Even having read all the context, your portrayal of Katara in the Hunters AU along with the caption makes me uncomfortable as a woc.

I know it seems like I'm always putting Katara, in specific, in an uncomfortable position. Maybe I am.

I love to explore what situations like those—being forced to hide who you are, always a foreigner, holding on to a single remnant of your identity (and doesn't that sound like Zuko?)—do to a character. I don't always get it right, but I don't think there is a right way to do it.

These are extremely sensitive subjects, I know, and they are important to me, too.

It is never my intention to make anyone feel uncomfortable with what I think or how I decide to express it. I'm genuinely sorry if I made you feel that way.

I love these fictional cultures. I love these characters. And I don't want to "give Katara the bare minimum of her culture", but putting her in a position, within the AU, where she is forced to have only said bare minimum has consequences that I feel compelled to explore. Not only with Katara, but also with Zuko, with Aang, with Iroh, with Sokka... They are all different characters and react to these issues differently, and that's so interesting to think about.

The Southern Water Tribe culture is dying. Katara's culture is dying, and my stories' intention is not to finish the kill—I want to see how, despite every single obstacle thrown in its way, Katara's culture survives. And if I have to let her keep only her necklace to do so, then so be it.

On the other hand, I never thought of you as an anti, nor was it my intention to treat you, or any other anon, like one. You have been nothing but respectful so far (am I right to assume you're the one who asked about Katara's cultural identity in the first place?), and I would be a hypocrite to demand said respect without giving it in return.

Antis are rude. Antis are spiteful. Antis mention colonizers and woc and domestic abuse without caring or knowing about what they're talking about. Antis tear you down to feel better about themselves.

I refuse to treat anyone like an anti unless they give me reasons to do so.

You are not an anti. You are a person who has legitimate concerns about how I tackle sensitive issues in my AUs and artwork. You disagree with me, and you state your reasons for doing so, because these themes are important to you, personally.

I don't expect anyone to readily agree with me on anything. My opinion is my own, with all the conflict and trouble it may bring me. But it is mine, and I will defend it. However, I'm also self aware enough to recognize when I'm wrong, and when I'm treading on dangerous ground.

Someone once told me I'm as neutral as a wall. They meant it as an insult, but I guess they're right.

Judging everyone for the actions of a few is not really my thing. I have only come across one single anti so far (fortunately). I'm not about to get on the defensive and start attacking everyone. Unless they deserve it.

#dema answers #zutara

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sednonamoris · 2 years

Text

call off the dogs (and come home to me)

Pairing: John Price x gn!reader

Summary: You've quietly yearned after Captain John Price for a long time now, and known him even longer. With each stolen glance and interrupted moment the tension between you grows, but everything comes to a head when a mission gone wrong forces you to confront feelings that have gone unspoken for the better part of a decade.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, strong language, alcohol mention, drunk hookup, a little bit of torture + murder, fingering, porn with plot (smut should read gender neutral but let me know if any changes will make it more inclusive!!), mild angst, mutual pining with a happy ending

Word count: 3,940

A/N: My first foray into smut inspired by the incredibly talented @yeyinde!! Expect more Hound/Price content in the future bc I’m obsessed lol

“Hound,” a familiar voice startles you from the mountain of paperwork on your desk, “what are you still doing here?”

You raise a challenging brow at your captain. “Couldn’t I ask you the same thing?”

This exchange has become familiar in the months you’ve spent grounded. Anyone else would take a bullet to the knee as a chance to slow down - switch careers entirely if they were smart - but you’re stubborn. A dog with a bone. Two surgeries and months of rehab that still aren’t finished, frankly you’re lucky to be walking. Luckier still that they let you stay on with the 141; There was a minute there that Laswell threatened you with an honourable discharge. A timely intervention with the physical therapist got you out of it, the only stipulation being that you remain firmly planted behind a desk until the doctors clear you. Having spent the better part of a lifetime hands-on in the field, it’s been hard not to overextend to prove your worth off of it.

So after-hours paperwork it is. At least the company is good.

“Touché,” Price huffs a laugh through his whiskers. “Fancy a cuppa? Sounds like we’ll both be here a while yet.”

“Have I told you lately you’re my favourite? Two sugars and--”

“--a splash of cream,” he finishes for you. The twinkle in his eye warms you right through, and you smile after him a little bit like an idiot.

It’s been like this ever since the domestic terrorism scare your team was called in on in Belfast what feels like a lifetime ago. He was only a lieutenant then, and you a sergeant. You were assigned to civilian extraction, but took off when you saw one of the primary suspects make a dash for it through side streets. Price saw you go for him and followed, the two of you giving chase on foot for three blocks before you managed to dive-tackle him in a back alley. It was a major success to take him alive, but your captain at the time wanted blood for the abandoned civilians. Price stood up for you in front of the entire regiment.

Took after ‘im like a bloody hellhound! he’d said. That deserves a medal, not disciplinary action.

Just over ten years later you’re still called Hound, and he’s still the subject of your silly, unattainable daydreams. Captain John Price is a name that means something, but to you he will always be the sergeant with fire in his eyes who stood up for you when no one else would. When he asked if you were interested in joining the 141 at its inception you didn’t even hesitate. You’d follow him anywhere.

“One tea, two sugars, splash of cream,” Price announces when he returns from the kitchenette with two steaming mugs to distract you from your thoughts. Yours is placed ceremoniously on an ARW coaster you ‘borrowed’ from your last commanding officer. “Now I believe you owe me something…?”

You grin and pull out your secret stash. The false bottom of the drawer is probably meant for sensitive intel, but you’ve found it’s perfect for biscuits. Three are placed in his outstretched hand, and three next to your mug.

“You’re lucky I’ve got a man on the inside who sends me these,” you scold as he scoffs one down almost immediately.

“Yeah, tell your granddad I said ‘thanks’.”

“I can’t. He’d disown me if he knew I was feeding a Brit.”

That earns you a laugh - a true belly laugh - and you can’t help but feel entirely smug about it.

“Fuckin’ Paddies.”

“Ah, go fuck yourself.”

A companionable silence blankets the room after that, broken only by the sound of shuffled papers and laptop keys. Soft lamplight illuminates your reports so unlike the harsh fluorescents everywhere else on base. You’ve done your best to make the regulation desk homey; bright sticky notes and colored pens and a picture of you and the lads after a successful mission. Occasional hums and huffs and heavy sighs from your captain’s desk across the room breathe life into the space as well. You like to think your incoherent, foul-mouthed muttering does the same for him.

The clock reads 0100 hours when you look up again. The caffeine from the tea wore off over an hour ago and you can feel yourself starting to fade. A quick peek over at Price reveals much the same.

You open your mouth to ask if he’s ready to tuck in when he looks up and steals the breath from your lungs. His short hair is mussed where he’s been running his hands through it, that hint of premature grey turned silver at his temples in the low light. Tired eyes crinkle fondly behind the lenses of reading glasses you haven’t stopped teasing him over but can’t get enough of. It’s achingly domestic. A glimpse into a future you’ll never have - not with anyone, and certainly not with him.

“What are you thinking about over there?” he asks softly.

“Nothing,” you flash a tired and unconvincing smile. “I’m knackered. Shall I close up shop or will you, Cap?”

“I’ve got it, you get some shut-eye.”

Your eyes linger just a bit too long as you bid him goodnight, knowing very well you won’t sleep a wink.

This pub is definitely one of the shittier ones, but its location is convenient enough to pretend that the wallpaper isn’t peeling and the live band of part-time musicians and full-time retirees is any good. The handful of covers they play are indistinguishable from originals sprinkled in, all with that same, washed-out sound of empty bottles and stale dreams.

The group of hooligans crowded up at the bar sit in stark contrast of the otherwise dour patrons. Even Ghost, who’s taken the corner seat and keeps a lazy watch over the room, is loose enough to be making those terrible jokes of his. Soap and Gaz lean over one another with goofy grins and half-empty glasses before them. Price, true to form, has taken the end seat to nurse a ‘proper pint’ alongside a lit cigar the bartender can’t dispute after lighting up what looks like at least his tenth cigarette of the night behind the bar.

“If it isn’t the Bionic Hound!” Gaz calls when he spots you across the poorly-lit room, waving you over with a grin.

You shake your head, wondering why you agreed to come out tonight. But the second Gaz had started with the puppy-dog eyes there was no denying him. Drinks before leave are a 141 tradition, he’d insisted.

So here you are.

“You’re lucky it’s a metal knee and not laser eyes or you’d be in yesterday’s papers,” you wag a finger at him as you take your seat amongst them all.

Ghost snorts a laugh at the empty threat.

“Oh, come off it, Hound,” Soap says. “You love us too much.”

Price chuckles. “I wouldn’t count on that.”

You glare and wrinkle your nose at the comment, but he just smiles back at you with that damned twinkle in his eye. Prick. Then he wordlessly slides over your usual and you have to be grateful on top of it all. Double prick. One swift gulp and half of it is gone; you’re too sober for this.

The lads cackle over another awful joke - Soap’s, this time. Price holds his temples.

The drinks go down easy after that.

“Any exciting plans for your leave, Cap?” you ask. It’s almost closing time now. This place is never full, anyway, but there’s enough alcohol in your system that you almost buy into the pretense of hearing him better as you edge further and further into his space.

You’re not sure what you want him to say, exactly. Maybe if he reveals that there’s a cute little family or some stunning girlfriend waiting back home you’ll finally be able to move past the strangled feeling in your throat every time you look at him.

“Hardly,” he says around the cigar. The soft glow of it lights his face, makes him look like some sharp-eyed noir detective shrouded in smoke and mystery. “Might get a bit of fishing in, head into Liverpool and catch a game or two. What about you?”

You wave a dismissive hand. “I make a terrible civilian. After I visit my grandfather and annoy him half to death I’m not sure what I’ll do. Maybe finally get some use out of those Egyptian cotton sheets I spent a bleedin’ fortune on.”

“Are they nice?” he laughs, leans closer.

You hum an affirmative, dizzy at the little space between you. He smells like tobacco and wood, whiskey and gunpowder.

“Too nice.” You should stop talking now. “End up on the floor half the time, anyway.”

He doesn’t need to know that.

“Sleeping alone, then?”

His breath fans your face. Yours gets quicker, and you swear you’re more drunk off this shared air than any liquor you’ve had tonight.

“Sometimes.” You wet your lips. “Usually.”

Your lashes leave tender butterfly kisses on your cheekbones as you meet his blue-eyed stare that’s gone impossibly dark, dipping down to see where your lips have parted - breathless, waiting. Wanting. His hand reaches out--

“Last call!” the bartender’s shout snaps everything back to reality.

You jump away from one another as though you’ve been burned. It feels a lot like you have.

Price clears his throat, mutters something about getting back. His voice is rougher than usual. Raw. You look everywhere but him as he proceeds to round up the rest of the lads before you all stumble back to base.

Your head pounds the whole way back to Ireland the next morning, marching drums in your mind and sandpaper beneath your eyelids. The flight has never felt lonelier.

The man you bring home has blue eyes and brown hair. He’s not tall enough, certainly not broad enough, but he happened to be in the right place at the right time as you drank your sorrows away in some tiny pub up the road from your flat, and you happen to be desperate enough not to care.

At least that’s what you tell yourself as you back him against your bed.

When you kiss him it’s relentless and controlling. Mean. You suck a dark bruise on his neck and climb in his lap before he can think to return the favor.

“Fuck, sweetness,” he groans at the sweet feeling of friction between your bodies. The accent is wrong. So is the endearment.

You clamp a hand over his mouth. “Shut up and fuck me.”

It’s a quick and sloppy affair, chasing a half-drunk high like a pair of horny teenagers. When all is said and done, you stare up at the ceiling on too-soft sheets and tell him he can go. He leans over to catch your eye briefly, maybe checking to see if you’re serious. You are. There’s hurt written across his expression - a bit of shock, too - but all you can think about is how his eyes are the wrong shade of blue.

The second the doctors clear you for active duty you all but sprint to Price’s desk, demanding he get you back in the field as soon as possible. He smiles up at you in that sharp way that always makes your heart stutter and promises he’s got something small in the works - perfect to shake the rust off.

Of course he’d think of an unsanctioned, off-the-books capture of a Russian mobster as small. You’re the only two who make the trip; your Russian is miles better than anyone else’s, and more bodies will only attract attention.

It’s easy to forget how beautiful Moscow is. You don’t come here often, but the sprawling cityscape and romantic spires speak to your soul, set something singing inside you. You try to hold on to that feeling as you and Price make your way into the chipped paint and piss-stained sector of the city. These winding side streets and twisted back alleys are far more fitting for your line of work.

Your mark, one Mikhail Yanovich, is a low-level enforcer for a high-interest gang that has connections to Makarov. Allegedly. That’s why you’re planning this friendly little chat. Not so much catch-and-release as catch-and-stage-a-believable-accident; if he really is involved, you can’t afford for Makarov to know you’re onto him.

It feels strange to walk around in civvies with only a thin kevlar vest underneath to protect you. Thank goodness for the cold that makes layering less conspicuous. You look every inch the lost, frozen tourist. Price does too. You don’t think the miserable face he’s pulling beneath the beanie is acting, cheeks and nose flushed raw as they are.

“Bloody cold out,” he mutters.

“The fuck did you expect, tropical holidays?”

He glowers, and you shake your head to hide a smile.

Thankfully, kidnapping Yanovich is quick work; two bickering tourists hardly seem like the type who will stick you with a needle on your way to work and drag your unconscious body to a stashed van, driving through bad, then worse neighborhoods to reach a secure location to interrogate you.

He wakes tied to a chair in the basement of an abandoned parking garage you and Price have taken up a temporary residence in. The captain circles him like a vulture, taking in all the details a broad frame and blockish features have to offer. You sit perched on the edge of a shitty folding table set just in the shadows. Patient. Waiting. There’s a case of freshly sharpened knives beside you - the Hound’s fangs, as Ghost likes to call them. So often the glinting threat of harsh light on metal is all it takes to break a man.

“What can you tell us about Makarov?” Price opens.

“Go fuck yourself.”

The blow lands harsh on Yanovich’s cheekbone. Instantly a bruise begins to form, splotchy and plum on pale skin.

“I asked you a bloody question. I promise you’d rather answer me than Hound over there,” Price looms over him, growls in his ear. “Makarov. Tell me everything you know.”

There’s a stubborn set to his jaw when he says, “I know nothing.”

If he really knew nothing he either would have laughed in your face or led with open ignorance. The way he clings to resistance can only mean there’s something to resist telling. As to how much he knows? There’s another echoing crack as Price backhands him.

You’ll soon find out.

“Hound,” your name on your captain’s tongue is as much a command as an invitation.

You lean forward, step into the light. Twirl one of your knives expertly between scarred fingers. Watch it flash in the whites of his eyes.

“I’ll ask you again: Where is Makarov?” Price demands.

“I. Don’t. Know.”

You step between Yanovich’s legs, lean over him and gently trace your blade over his groin with a smile sharper than the knife. He lets out a harsh breath.

“I said I don’t know. Boss tells me nothing - I’m just a guard.”

The knife presses, insistent. Not quite hard enough to draw blood yet. A bead of sweat rolls down Yanovich’s forehead. He’s pressed himself as far back into the chair as his bonds will allow.

“Fine! He comes to club once a month. Speaks to the boss.”

“What about?”

“I don’t know-- I swear!” his accent is thick with unfamiliar syllables and fear.

“When’s he due next?”

“You just missed him. He always comes last day of month.”

“Location?”

“Changes every time,” he says, licks his lips. “I told you all I know - call off your fucking dog!”

You dig your knife in for good measure just to watch the hate and fear in his eyes before backing off at Price’s nod.

Turning to step away and table your knife, you don’t miss the way Yanovich mutters darkly after you, “My zdes strelaem vie brodyachikh sobak, suki. Esli ya uviju tebya snova, the mertview.”

Then a gunshot fires.

You pull your weapon out of its holster and whip around to cover Price, only to find the smoking gun in his hand and Yanovich’s head splattered on the wall behind him. Captain John Price stands over the body, eyes blazing, chest heaving, gun still aimed. Blood and brain matter speckles his face and clothes.

“What the fuck was that?” you demand. “He could have told us more! And what about the cover-up? Blowing his brains six ways to fucking Sunday isn’t exactly a bleedin’ accident!”

You expect some kind of remorse when he turns to face you, but there’s only a grim, deadly acceptance. “He said--"

“I heard what he said, I can speak bloody Russian!” you stalk towards him and jab a finger into his chest. “We were gonna kill the cunt anyway. You should have waited.”

Price snarls, lip curling to bare his teeth. “You didn’t see the way he looked at you.”

Suddenly you’re hyperaware of how close the two of you are standing. “How did he look at me?”

“He wanted to kill you the slowest way he knew how,” he says, like he’s confessing a sin, “and I’d shoot his fucking face a thousand times over to make sure he never looks at you again.”

And just like that anything you were going to say dies in your throat, comes out a pathetic whimper. He grabs a fistful of your shirt and hauls you the rest of the short distance to him.

“Tell me you wouldn’t do the same,” he demands. “Tell me to stop.”

His hand burns on your chest, an iron-hot brand of possession.

“John,” you breathe, because you don’t know what else to say. The look in his eyes is magnetic, drawing you in further still with pupils blown wide with want. “Don’t stop.”

He kisses you rough, teeth and tongue and a certain kind of desperation brought on by the still-warm corpse lying just a few feet away. When you break for air he wastes no time kissing down your neck, every inch of exposed skin branded by his lips and the rough scrape of his beard. Yanovich’s blood smears down the column of your throat.

“Fuck, John,” you say, “just like that.”

“Sound so fucking perfect when you say my name,” he growls and bites down on your pulse point, leaving you gasping.

It’s enough to distract you from his true purpose, large hands cupping beneath your ass and scooping you up into his arms. You hold on tight as three purposeful strides take you across the room to the table. One sweep of his arm has everything tumbling off it before he sets you down to stare up at him with wide eyes and a kiss-swollen mouth.

When he captures your lips again it’s searing, molten heat rushing through your veins. It pools in your stomach, that too-hot wanting, and it suddenly hits you how much you do want this. Him. Each kiss tastes like so many years of silent longing, of standing too close and staring too long and wanting too much. All suddenly real and within reach.

You let your hands snake up his shirt, explore the broad plane of his chest and the wiry hair that curls over it. Your fingers run over scars like braille that tell stories of violence and valor. Some of these stories you helped write. There, beneath his ribs, where you had to stitch him up in the field to keep his guts from spilling into the streets of Vienna. The lump where his collarbone never healed right after taking the brunt of a nasty blow meant for you. He shivers under your touch. Then his large, calloused hands cover yours and stop them in their tracks.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he says, “because I don’t think I can wait any longer than I already have to feel you.” His voice is even lower and rougher than usual, accent thick with arousal. “Do you want that?”

You nod, afraid to speak and break the spell.

“Come on, soldier, use your words.”

“Yes, Captain. Please.”

His grip on your hips tightens and he lets out a growl. “That’s my perfect soldier.”

It’s all the warning you get before he tucks his fingers under the waistband of your trousers and underwear and tugs them down to your thighs, leaving you exposed before him.

“Fuck, just look at you,” he says under his breath, almost like you aren’t meant to hear.

You squirm under the scrutiny. A hot flush creeps up your neck as he stares, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it. He looks at you like you’re some kind of revelation, like he’s been denied salvation all his life only to find it at the apex of your thighs.

One, two, then three fingers stretch you open for him quick and dirty. It’s too much too fast but you want it so bad, and the pleasure far outweighs any pain. When he finally unzips his trousers to free his already hard, leaking cock you think you drool a little bit. You knew he’d be big, the way he carries himself, but seeing it is something else. Your insides flutter at the thought of the tight fit. He lines up to your entrance with that same military precision you’ve always admired before pushing in slowly, slowly, slower still. When he bottoms out he does it with a deep groan, your fingernails raking down his back as you keen at the sensation. This small mercy, just a few moments to adjust with his forehead pressed to yours, is all you’re granted before he sets a brutal pace. The obscene slap of skin on skin echoes off cracked concrete. With each thrust he hits someplace deep inside you no one else has managed to find.

Heat coils in your belly, closer and closer to fever pitch with each expert snap of his hips.

“John,” you pant, “m’gonna… gonna cum. Feels so good.”

He says your name like a prayer. “Cum for me, then. Want to see you make a mess of yourself on my cock.”

Like a tidal wave breaking against a dam you cum fast and hard at his words with a broken sob. He fucks you through the high, brushing a tear from the corner of your eye with a rough thumb.

“There you are, so good for me,” he says. “Gonna cum all over your pretty little self, make you mine.”

“I’m yours, John,” you gasp, “all yours.”

His thrusts turn sloppy chasing his own high, and it doesn’t take long before he pulls out and makes good on his words, covering your stomach in spend as he grinds out your name. Bent over your body, he presses a chaste kiss to the juncture of your neck before pulling back to admire his handiwork. In the afterglow you lay spread out on the table with a sheen of sweat, smeared with his cum and another man’s blood. The way his eyes darken rubbing it into your skin, and the way you shiver at the sensation, you think that you both might like it a little too much.

“Laswell’s gonna kill us for this,” he murmurs.

You hum your agreement. “So where shall we hide the body?”

His eyes shine down on you with adoration and crinkle with wicked humor. “I’m sure we’ll think of something, but let’s be quick about it. The sooner we get home the better.”

“Yes,” you hear yourself agreeing, “home.”

For you, it will always be at his side.

#captain john price x reader #john price x reader #fran writes #this fic came over me like a possession i have nothing to say for myself #cod x reader #cod mwii x reader

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general-nerdy · 5 months

Text

Jesse Cromeans/Chromeskull NSFW Alphabet

I had a lot of fun getting these all down, and thank @sinfulwrites for being my editor haha! Go read her Asa NSFW alphabet. It's fantastic!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Jesse couldn't care less about your comfort if you're laying in one of his coffins. He relishes in your discomfort. His camera gets a fantastic view of the tears streaming down your face, and your soiled body is a work of art. He'll go back and watch the footage again to see you squirm.

When you are someone he is closer to, Jesse is more of a gentleman. You are held in his massive tattooed arms, though you will be subjected to waggling eyebrows and suggestive, teasing messages about your time together. When you regain some energy you are free to use his elaborate bathroom, his multifunctional bidet and huge walk-in shower making it more than a pleasure to clean yourself. He will follow you in and watch.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He's not picky. Jesse can admire every part of you, though he has a weakness for thighs. Your face however is something he will watch intently. He loves to watch your expressions change through it all.

Jesse loves every part of himself. He's great and he knows it. You don't need to tell him.

After his incident at the market, he's much more sensitive about his face. But he took it like a champ after some therapeutic mental breakdowns and property damage. It's okay, he can pay to replace the mirror.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Jesse has a bad habit of cumming inside. Why should he sacrifice his pleasure, after all? Does he not deserve it? He also loves to have you swallow his load, again watching your face as you do. Though if you're one of his victims he probably wouldn't risk putting his penis in your mouth. He doesn't want anything happening to Lil' Jesse.

If you are a victim he might force your mouth open and cum inside, or just cum on your face. That makes a great phone background. Yes, he would do that. Your memory would live on in his home screen. At least until he finds another piggy.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Believe it or not, Jesse would love it if you played with his ass. If you topped or pegged him, even better. His late wife never indulged him.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Jesse had quite a few partners, both men and women, before marrying his late wife. Even after the fact he had encounters outside of his marriage. So he's very much experienced.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Overtop of you with your legs in the air. That way he can see everything; his cock disappearing in and out of you, your body moving with him, and your face of course. His camera also captures more from there.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

When Jesse likes you he's quite the funny guy. He teases and plays with you in a humorous way. If you farted or queefed during sex he'd double over in his wheezing laughter. Jesse is here to have a good time.

When you're a captive, he's brutal. He makes you look into his camera. He makes you look at yourself reflected in his mask, watching yourself be violated.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Jesse is completely bare, save for his eyebrows. After the incident at the market and his surgeries he doesn't even have those. He likes being hairless, and he's spent a lot of money to get laser removal done. Sliding into his satin sheets smooth as the day he was born is one of his great pleasures.

He doesn't mind at all if you have hair, wherever it may be.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Jesse's ability to take anything seriously is severely inhibited by what I'd call 'affluenza'. He has so much money he can do what he wants, when he wants. Sex is a fun time for him, sure, but most of the time that's just it; a fun thing to do. Unless you're someone he really, really cares about. Then he will make more of an effort to take things seriously and be more romantic.

When he makes that effort, he goes all out. Expensive dinners. Trips to foreign countries on one of his private jets. Rose petals on the bed. New lingerie for you. He will spare no expense. You will be wined, dined, and dicked.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Jesse loves to watch his tapes and jerk off. He basically has an addiction, but it's limited to his own recordings or live footage of you. Yes, he's always watching.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Filming: He's got a camera on his shoulder for a reason, and he saves every single tape. He makes backups too.

Phone/Cyber/Video Sex: Jesse does all three. You're getting dick pics. He will ask for nudes and videos, even if he already has them. There is never enough in his collection. You will receive some in return. He will barrage you with dirty texts. He feels no shame. He doesn't know what it is. More than once he's FaceTimed you, only for you to open the call and see him with his dick out. It's a common occurrence.

Mirrors: He has huge ones across the way from his bed, just so he can watch your face when you're in a position where he can't see it. Jesse also likes to make you look at your reflection, whether it brings you shame or pleasure.

Period Sex: Jesse does not fear Aunt Flo. Only cowards do. He'll eat you out too. He thinks it's fun to show you your blood all over him.

Bondage: Keeping people trapped in his coffins watching them squirm is a huge turn-on. Jesse will get right up on the lid to watch through his camera screen. If he's riled enough he will grind against it. He will also use ropes to restrain those he's got his eye on.

Public Sex: Jesse will shamelessly pull you away to bang. He'll reach under the table if you're at a restaurant. Is it a fancy one? Even better. His fingers will play with you as you try to order from the waiter. Sometimes he'll even reserve the place so you two can have your fun in peace. In the car? He'll unzip his fly, pull out his cock and gesture to it while he's driving. Or he'll just pull to the side of the road and throw you into the back seat of his Chrysler. Did someone see? Good, Jesse wants to show off.

Necrophilia: IT'S TRUE. NO I WON'T CHANGE MY MIND. We all saw him lick Princess's corpse in the second movie. He was keeping the bodies all around. He humps coffins. Jesse will have his way with his victims just after killing them. The poor interns from his organization have to clean up the mess. It's not a great job, but it pays very well and the benefits are outstanding.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Jesse loves his mansion. He had it built to his own specifications, and his bedroom has a massive California king-size bed. He loves to show off himself and his affluence. Where else better to do it than there? His car is another favorite. Give him some road head or a handy and he's on cloud nine.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You exist. He exists. You have holes, he has a penis. That's really all Jesse needs.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Poop. He likes to be clean. Even psychopathic murderers have standards.

No vomit either. You can gag on his weiner, but please don't puke.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Jesse loves receiving oral. He could sit there for ages and watch you suck his dick. It makes him feel like a king, which he is.

If he likes you, he will more than happily attack you with oral. Being cute? Being a brat? Bent over? Spread those legs because he's going in.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Jesse does not rush. He is slow and powerful. His size doesn't let him jackrabbit into you, but he doesn't need to. By the time he's done, you'll feel like you have no bones.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Of course! Jesse may be slow, but he is more than willing to whip out his cock and slip in and out. He knows just how to touch you, so making you cum quickly is easy.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Jesse fears nothing. He could buy off anyone if he got into trouble with you. He has public sex for a reason, and that reason is he doesn't give a single shit. He's willing to try most anything if you're down to clown. He's here to have a good time.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

This man can go all night. No problem. He may need a break, but he'll pick right back up in no time. As long as you're willing he's ready.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Jesse has plenty, though not as many as other people he knows. He prefers quality over quantity. They're not competition. They're for enhancing the experience. He'll happily use them on you, and let you use them on him. He has a prostate massager that he loves.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Jesse is actually not that much into teasing when he likes you. He'll do it playfully, but never to deny you pleasure. Though if you're being bratty he just might to teach you a lesson. He'd rather not wait to have his fun with you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Jesse can't speak. His vocal cords have suffered some kind of damage during his life and left him mute. The only noises he can make are raspy grunts and groans during sex. Though he is limited, Jesse is not shy about making these sounds when fucking you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Jesse is good friends with Asa Emory, the Collector. The type of friends with benefits. Asa is more often than not the top, despite their size difference. Jesse doesn't mind at all. He finds it quite cute, but he'd never say that to Asa.

He often helped to fund many of the Collectors endeavors. Jesse thought that Asa's traps were hilarious.

Jesse is more than willing to have a threesome between you and the Collector, if Asa is feeling agreeable. He might even just sit and watch…

Jesse's late wife was a huge Karen. He hated every minute with her and dreaded becoming a father.

If you do marry him, he actually is a doting husband. His late wife wasn't lying about that.

He does not want children. Ever. He'd rather die.

His aesthetic is very important to him. If there's something with skulls or skeletons, he wants it. Even better if it's chrome or silver. We all saw his cute little skull briefcase. He has cute skull slippers. Skeleton boxers. All of it.

His late wife hated his aesthetic. She made him stop wearing a lot of it. Once she died Jesse had a field day putting back on all of his skull themed jewelry. The man has rings for days.

Jesse has a difficult time going to places he considers low-brow or 'poor'. He was raised rich, so he was never exposed to such things.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Seven inches and uncircumcised.

Large low hanging balls.

The tip of his dick is pierced with a Prince Albert. And yes, it has a silver skull on the end.

He named his penis Lil' Jesse. He will never stop calling it that.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Jesse always wants you. All you have to do is look at him suggestively. Or just look at him. He'll ask if you're ready to bang.

The epitome of "So we fuckin' or what?"

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Jesse will fall asleep with you. He's not one to pass out as soon as he nuts. He's too proud for that. His ego couldn't handle the shame.

#chromeskull #jesse cromeans #laid to rest #slasher #slashers #slasher fandom #horror #horror movies #horror films #slasher x reader #jesse FUCKS #a lot #no i will not take criticism #my wife said so #heehee #we love this big bald bitch #hes great #general nerdy writes

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