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pedgito · 3 months

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𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 | Javier Pena x fem!reader

summary | your boyfriend delivers the worst news possible on what should be a day filled with love. luckily your coworker is there in wait, not allowing a perfectly good dinner reservation to go to waste. [2.5k]

content warning | this is probably the tamest thing i've ever written, who am i? mostly fluff, vague descriptions of your boyfriend (technically ex-boyfriend/some misogyny (not by javi), small age gap, co-workers, dinner dates and more, unrequited (innocent) crushes, minimal spanish (mostly just pet names), open-ended

author’s note | @pascalispretty happy valentines day!! this is my first time doing one of these and i was your secret valentine, but i hope you enjoy! i haven't written for javi in so long and i was really craving some soft!javi so this was a joy to write. i hope you enjoy!

You hated the stigma around holidays and what they meant, what they entailed, and why people upheld them so highly. But, here you were—tapping your fingers insistently against the desk across from the pool of DEA agents who would throw a file of paperwork on your desk and expect it to magically poof away and, by default, relinquish themself of any responsibility over it in the process.

You couldn’t fault them all—some of them actually managed to follow instructions. A signature here and there, all in order, leaving with little work to do other than file it away. Murphy followed it to a degree that made you think he probably has some time of background outside of here, back in the states. Always uniform, always proper—he’d been a good addition from the start and a perfect match to Javier Pena’s strong personality and unwillingness to give up control.

He also smiled at you every morning and offered a kind greeting, a small acknowledgment of your existence which couldn’t be spared by many others.

As for Javier—he did the work. There was never an issue, but halfway through an expository to a question he asks his attention is drawn elsewhere. Usually to one of the other few in-office secretaries or visitors that just couldn’t resist a bite at the overconfident and suave agent.

You could see the appeal, but that didn’t mean you had to like it—sometimes it impeded your ability to communicate with him and it really, really annoyed you.

Plus, your boyfriend was perfect. Too perfect that it felt unreal at times, but as all things in your life tended to implode on you—you were waiting for the ball to drop.

“Buenos días, señorita.” Javier greets with a smile that shines perfectly under his thick mustache, dressed in his usual pairing of tight jeans and form-fitting button up. This one was pink though, or a deep red. Jesus, how many different ones did he own?

You snort softly, “Morning, Javi.”

And you’re expecting that crisp folder to slide onto your desk but he’s traversing down the steps into the bay of other desks, straight for his. He’s still in eyeline, his and Steve’s shared workspace right in the center.

His eyes flit up briefly, scanning the room before they land on you again and of course you’re staring, but not for the reasons he’s assuming. And there’s a fierceness behind your eyes that he’s seen before, like he’s about to be lectured.

You grab at an empty file on your desk and hold it up lazily, eyebrows raising in expectation.

“Oh shit,” He curses lowly, but not soft enough for you to miss before he’s reaching in his desk and holding up the paperwork, “Here—I’ve got it.”

You pluck the item from his grip as he approaches, this time lingering. He’s got his fingers spread out wide on your desk and he leans, practically towers as you sift through his work quietly before jotting something down on a separate sticky note and filing it away for the time being.

“Sorry, bonita,” He apologized, some sincerity in his voice, “I stayed late last night and finished it up but you were already gone—I don’t forget, you know that.”

“All good,” You offer a polite smile and he still doesn’t move, nodding kindly to a few women that pass by, seemingly more done-up than usual, “big plans tonight?”

A man like Javier, there was no way he spent Valentine's Day alone.

Javier offers a non-commital shrug and nods his head in your direction, “What about you? You got that boyfriend, right? Kid with the glasses?”

And okay, Javier was a good chunk older than you. Ten years, maybe. But, kid? Please.

“Yes, that kid.” You roll your eyes light-heartedly. “Um, I reserved a table for dinner at that restaurant Steve recommended a couple months ago. The one he took Connie to.”

“Yeah—yeah, I know that place.” Been a few times, it lingers on his tongue. It didn’t matter if he went alone, the food was decent enough. “You made the reservation?”

“Come on, Javi,” You slap at his forearm gently, “It's not that big of a deal—besides I just…need a break. I thought dinner would be nice.”

“You know I can’t judge you for living at this place,” Javier says around a soft chuckle, “I’m guilty of it too.”

Many nights spent stuck in the office with just you and Javier—the occasional appearance of Steve. It led you to learn a few things about the men, even if inadvertently.

When leads were dry, Javier will go through half a pack in a day and Steve would chew at his fingernails almost constantly, tapping and fidgeting nearly nonstop. They both had obvious tells—a more obvious one for Javier being the close-mouthed smile he gave to women he wasn’t interested in but still remained polite to while the other, the unabashed grin was reserved for the women who piqued his interest.

He's given you both, but that was beside the point.

“Any recommendations?” You ask curiously, fidgeting with the plastic clip on your pen.

Javier considers it briefly, lips pursing together as he taps his pointer finger in thought, “Well, the Pescado Frito they have is pretty good—can’t really go wrong with that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You note, leaning back in your chair as you spot Steve making his way into the office.

“I thought you hated holidays like this?” Javier questions curiously, a sentiment he shared. They seemed pointless outside of the few that offered him a reprieve from work.

You shrug, looking away briefly to avoid his steadfast gaze.

“Well, I don’t think all of us are impervious to stuff—I wanted to do something…nice. I guess?”

Javier isn’t entirely convinced, seeing the uncertainty in your shy smile but he lets it go, slapping the desk lightly before waving a quick goodbye as Steve pulls him aside.

It had to be intel—and good intel at that by the way Javier’s face morphs into sudden interest, thumb and pointer finger brushing over his mustache.

And really, you shouldn’t keep staring at him. Not with that dinner on the forefront of your mind, the one you had so meticulously planned out for you and your boyfriend.

Things had to be perfect. There was no other option.

But, then Javier chances another glance in your direction and something swells in your throat—anxiety, sadness. You can't quite place it, but you swallow it down. Force it away.

Only a few more hours to go.

The call comes an hour before you’re due to head home, already packing up your belongings preemptively. And you smile at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice.

It’s been a few months. Good months. Too good.

He was younger, like you—some IT guy in his earlier twenties with a kind heart. Or, so you assumed.

“Hey,” You answer softly, lightly into the phone, “reservations are in a couple hours.”

“About that,” His voice sounds off, distant, “I don’t think I can make it.”

Your heart drops into your stomach and you find yourself chewing at your bottom lip in worry, watching wearily as Javier and Steve hold matching coffees in their grip, marching back to their desks in sync. Javier’s gaze lingers for a moment, a normal motion he did just to check on you.

Nothing more.

But, he spots the change in your emotion.

Still, he continues on.

“What—I—I’ve had these reservations for two weeks,” You reply in a hushed voice, trying to contain your frustration, “what happened—what changed?”

“I just—I don’t really know how to say this,” The dread is immediate, but your mind is filled with anger—rigid, bitter anger that wants to bite, “I think we should break up.”

“Are you fucking serious?” The small outburst catches the attention of you people but you avoid their gaze, even more pointedly Javier, who’s gone from inconspicuously spying to full on gawking now, alongside Steve who had a sudden interest. They’ve never seen you like…this. “Today? This felt like a good thing to tell me today?”

“I’ve been trying—“

“You’re an asshole.” You bite harshly, “You can pick your shit up from my apartment this weekend.”

You don’t let him have the final word, slamming the phone back down into the receiver and ignoring the gathering stares and sparse, hushed whispers.

You could sit and wallow, allow yourself to stew in regret and worry, wondering what you did wrong—but you knew it wasn’t you. It couldn’t have been. All the trying and trying and trying you do, the maximum amount of effort met with little enthusiasm. You were naive to think that things would work,

You’re thankful when the shift nears its end and people file out quietly, albeit with a few side-stares, you find yourself mulling over the idea of canceling the reservation completely. But, then there was perfectly good, hard-earned money going to waste. And you could eat by yourself, but the idea seemed even more miserable as you had specifically booked a table for two, decorations and accommodation to match. It felt ridiculous, in hindsight.

You pass the stack of paperwork off to your boss as you step into his office, scurrying back to your desk with your head down—already prepared to go home and wallow in your self-pity.

“You alright?” Javier asks suddenly, jumping slightly at his voice as you turn on your heels, hip bumping into your desk in the process, wincing at the pain, “shit—sorry.”

He’s smiling to lighten the mood but it doesn’t help.

“You’re…fine,” You wave him off, leaning into the weight of the desk as he lingers, fingers shoved into the front pockets of his pants, “I’m heading home in a bit.”

“No dinner?” He asks curiously—if he was attempting to be coy he was doing a terrible joy.

It was only minimally amusing, cracking a smug smile at his obvious prying.

“No dinner,” You confirm, “and he broke up with me, so…”

“Cabrón,” He says under his breath, but it isn’t lost on you, “I’m sorry—that’s…fucked up.”

You shrug, “Now I’m debating on canceling and wasting the money I put down to reserve it or looking pathetic if I show up by myself—“

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with that.” Javier defends, speaking entirely from personal experience.

“Javi, it’s Valentine’s Day.”

“And?”

Suddenly though, you’re struck with an idea.

“Are you busy?” You ask curiously and Javier raises a curious eyebrow your way and smirks, “No ladies in waiting tonight?”

“Not yet.” Javier jokes lightly, knowing his usual routine of hitting the bar after work would end in one of two ways, and even if he didn’t mind spending his nights alone, it was nice to be in the company of others in whatever capacity.

“Go with me.” You suggest, poking at his bicep. “Since you love the place so much.”

“Come on, hermosa,” Javier chides playfully, “If you wanted to take me on a date, just ask.”

You grin wide, heart fluttering at the flirtatious tone he carried in his voice—it wasn’t something you weren’t used to, but it was never so pointedly directed at you.

“I am,” You tell him, “I just—I’ll need to go home and change first.”

His brow furrows and he looks you over, seeing nothing wrong, “Why? You look fine. You always do.”

It’s something he tells you daily—and maybe he has his own selfish reasons, though you know he does it to most of the women in the office, but the way he’s saying it to you now feels different.

He means it, no humor in his voice.

“My—” You can’t even address him in the moment, rolling your eyes with full force as you rub your fingers over your forehead to will away the lines of stress that form there, “I just—he used to say work clothes never complimented me very well. I already had a dress picked out, I can be quick.”

“Save it. I think you look perfect.” Javier affirms softly, keys jingling in his back pocket as he fishes them out, “I’ll drive us.

“But, my car—”

And hand breaches your shoulder, hot to the touch as his fingers curl around your form.

“Hey,” He’s searching for your eyes, waiting until they lock with his own and he nods, expecting the same motion to make sure you’re with him, “I’ll drive you there and back, you don’t have to change—we can enjoy some good food and forget about your shitty boyfriend, alright?”

You nod quietly, earning a gentle squeeze in response.

–

It wasn’t a date, not in the slightest. But, Javier did his damndest to make you feel like it was.

And maybe it was the guilt over him knowing you just got dumped—that whatever you had spent so much time planning had fell out underneath you, but it didn’t quell the nervous anxiety that you felt as you both sipped on a shared bottle of wine and your separate dinners, watching Javier grimace around the lip of his wine glass.

“Horrible, right?” You laugh softly, watching as he forces the liquid down and nods jerkily.

“Food is great, though—the wine,” Javier makes a face of uneasiness that has you covering a laugh with your palm, “—that’s why I stick with tequila or whiskey.”

“Can’t say I have much of a preference,” You admit, “as long as it does the job.”

Javier nods knowingly, stabbing his fork into a piece of food and chewing thoughtfully, the fingers of his unoccupied hand rubbing together as an idea forms in his head, “You know, if you’re not busy I was going to meet up with Steve and Connie for a drink. Later tonight—if you’re interested?”

You can’t believe how instantly you want to agree, blaming it on your impulsivity.

“Javi, I don’t know,” You respond quietly, “I don’t—I don’t really go out like that.”

“Well—that dress you were talking about. It wouldn’t go completely to waste if you wanted to wear it out tonight. Plus, you treated me to a nice dinner—let me treat you to a couple drinks.”

It sounds like the perfect idea. Too perfect. Too good to be true.

“Javi,” You tease shyly, “if you’re trying to ask me out on a date just say it.”

Javier chuckles softly and you know it’s only an attempt to make a shitty day not so shitty, but the underlying chase you two have allowed to happen for so long now was unobscured by outside forces and you hated how easy it was for him to distract you from everything that had transpired today.

“Is that a yes?” Javier teases.

You sigh reluctantly, though a subtle grin pulls at your face, eyes soften at the expectant look on Javier’s face, all puppy-eyed and nothing like the man you’re used to seeing in the office. This was a side of him that felt new and you were curious to discover more. You nod.

“Well, hermosa—I guess it’s a date then.”

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena x y/n #javier peña #pedro pascal #my writing #spacesisterssecretvalentine

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1mmeee2 · 1 year

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Greg House x Reader (First Oneshot)

Plot: As you were doing your usual daily task as a doctor, you had one particular patient’s parent that is mistreating you horribly but like all hospitals, you can’t really do much except figure it out. You soon tried to ignore the parent’s manner but Dr. House who always kept an eye on you... well didn’t seem to enjoy seeing it. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ “Please Mr. Kennedy I'm just doing my job.” I said calmly trying to keep myself from slapping the shit out of him. “No way am not letting you add whatever is in that vaccine.” He said angrily. “Sir, your child needs it. Or he’ll get sick, he’s already sick as is.” I said explaining it again for the 100th time. “No, you can’t give it to him without my consent.” Mr Kennedy said making me sigh.

“Go do what you do best, at home.” He said making me back up on what he said. “Sir--” “Leave my son alone you sheep!” He said making me sigh as I looked up at the boy’s heart monitor to see it stable before leaving the room to see Dr. Eric there. “Anything?” He asked. “No, just more misogynistic comments and a lot of anti-vax comments.” I said to Eric as he and I walked down the halls trying to figure out what to do with the boy. I soon found myself at the steps of Dr House’s office to find him there leaning on his desk. “House we got a issue.” Eric said to him making House sit up using his cane for support. “What?” He asked. “Father of a little boy won’t let me go near his son with a vaccine... The boy needs it, he is very sick.” I explained to house who sighed. “Ah, one of those Anti-vaxers who really need to get off the internet once in a while... But how is that my problem?” House asked making Eric and I sigh. “We just can’t help the boy, the dad won’t give consent on giving it to him and his son’s heath is getting worse.” I explained to him. “Here’s a tiny help that you two never thought of. Try talking to his dad like he’s a child. Let him hear what he wants to hear, lure him with a hypothetical ice cream, let him lick it for a bit then let him realized it’s not the flavor he wants. He took it, he licked it, he can’t sue.” House explained to the two of us making it a good point. “Let’s give it a shot, you’re turn. I don’t think he’ll be happy seeing a woman.” I said to Eric who nodded and left the room. “What?” House asked making me turn to look at him. “He hates vaccines same like women for some reason, hence why Cameron Isn’t helping him.” I explained to house. “So... he does that to you?” He asked confusing me why he cares so much. “Why do you care about what he or does to me? You’ve done that even with other patients.” I said trying to read House for once. “It nothing personal, I don’t like anybody.” House said making me smirk. “That wasn’t my question. I asked Why do you care so much about me? Specifically me?” I asked teasingly trying to get some sort of answer till I heard the door open revealing Eric. “Nope, Y/n it’s you’re turn.” Eric said making me sigh as I soon left House’s office to see the man. “Hello sir, so I was hoping you rethought--” “I ain’t rethinking anything, you’re not giving my son more viruses.” Mr. Kennedy said making me just fill my body with frustration.

“Sir, I understand why you don’t trust the vaccine, but we are only giving your son one, just to help his immune system feel better.” I explained hoping it could change something. “Absolutely not, you’re not giving him that vaccine you idiot!” He said raising his voice before I heard the room door open revealing House walking in. “I hope you are real doctor.” Mr. Kennedy said to House who pulled out a chair and sat down next to the kid looking at the him. “You see. You’re son is dying fading away, his body is shutting down... All because some overbearing parent can’t handle a small injection of what is, you’re son’s last home in continuing his very short life.” House said to the dad making him too stunned at the comments. “Look as you can see, my assistant is doing her job, and I don’t think you’re misogynistic comments are helping. Heck if you really don’t want females in the hospitals I might as well unplug everything your son is on as it was all set up by our lovely female staff. Now you either let Dr. Y/L/N give the vaccine to your son, or might as well just leave as we cannot help you and you’re slowly fading away son who is probably at death’s door from all the procrastinating you’ve been doing.” House said leaving the dad and myself a bit held back. “F-f-fine... do it.” He said to me making me nod and got the vaccine and gave it to the kid. “See it wasn’t that hard, you can’t always get what you want.” House said before getting up from his seat and started walking out of the room but stopped. “Oh, and speak to Dr. Y/L/N, I promise you, you won’t get the best service from me or her. You better not do what you did to her ever again or to any woman again.” House said lastly before grabbing my hand and lead my out of the room. “So?” Eric asked. “Dealt with the man-child. Again, dangle the ice cream, lick it, and let them realize they got the wrong flavor.” He said before walking down the hall to his office. “House.” I called as I walked over to him. “What?” He asked. “Thank you.” I said making him nod. “Just doing my job.” He said coldly before continue walking as I stood behind but grinned. “Still didn’t make sense why you added that last part about me.” I said and saw House stopped moving and froze in place. “So?” I added but still didn’t get a response. “I got t-things to do.” House said suddenly before walking back to his office quiet fast making me chuckle.

#house md #dr house #gregory house #xreader #oneshot #gregory house x reader #gregory house x you #gregory house imagine #greg house #greg house x reader #greg house x you #house x reader #house x y/n #house md imagine

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imagine--if · 8 months

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(A/N: The results for my Riddler fanfic poll was basically 50/50 😂 so this is based off of the last issue of Riddler Year One, #6, as I copied the intro to the comic, but I'll work up to the movie too 😊 enjoy!!)

Wordcount: 1.7K

A knock at the door. Silence.

You frown slightly, glancing at the clock. It's late, really late, for anyone to be calling for you. You're not expecting anyone, and you're used to the trouble that comes with living in the middle of Gotham City, giving you every reason not to answer the door and stay quiet until whoever it is gets bored and goes away.

Another knock, sounding a little desperate, five soft bangs on the door's study steel, echoing through your small stretch of hallway and to the main room, where you sit on the sofa, laptop on your lap, scrolling boredly. You stare at the door warily, as if you could somehow see through to whatever drophead was trying to get your attention, before hesitantly raising your voice in answer.

"Who is it?"

Silence again.

You roll your eyes and sigh after a beat of nothing, pushing your laptop off you and onto the sofa, quietly approaching the door and taking a sceptical look through the peephole. Nothing. No one. Just the hard bright light of the dirty stairway and landing of the floor in the apartment block you live in, which snaps off after no motion to keep it alive, and the door opposite you, shut and locked, no sound coming from anywhere except muffled music and arguing from somewhere downstairs, as per normal here.

You go to open the door, but then pause, cautious enough to wait it out for a while, five minutes, ten minutes, before letting yourself open it and look outside. You don't want to be the next poor person who gets robbed or jumped or whatever rank thing you could expect from living down in Gotham, but there's still no one to greet you when your door squeaks faintly as you pull it open, black bristles dragging across the floor from beneath it. You wince slightly as the harsh light blinks back on, revealing an empty landing, empty staircase, nothing but your breaths echoing in the space...

And an envelope at your feet.

Your frown deepens when you go to close the door again and notice it, lying there outside the door, a medium white envelope inked with a messy green symbol of some kind. A question mark, with dashes at its sides, top and bottom, scratching into the paper boldly, no name or address or postmark anywhere, nothing to indicate where it came from or who it's for. But it's at your door, and after a few seconds' inspection and another look down the landing and the stairs, you sigh and pick it up, your thumb sliding under the triangular fold as you close the door with your body whilst opening it.

There are two things sealed in this envelope.

A Polaroid picture... and a card.

You sit down with your eyes fixed on the envelope's contents, laptop ignored at your side, as you take out the card first. It's like some kind of vintage cartoon, a little beaming squirrel holding one nut in its paws, a few others at its feet, a heart around its body. Above it, bold calligraphic text says:

I'm NUTS about you!

Your face screws up in bewilderment and amusement, your eyes flitting over the cheesy sentiment and picture, before you open it up to see contrasting, messy handwriting, gone over a few times to make it readable enough. It almost looks childish.

The rich people want it, wise people know it, the poor people need it, and kind people show it. What am I?

You blink, confused at the sudden question. A riddle? You glance at the question symbol on the opened envelope, before returning your attention to the card.

"Rich people want it..." you mutter under your breath in thought, "kind people- what, love?"

You read the last bit of writing under the riddle, then read it again. And again.

I see you work with the rats, but you don't become one. I see you give the homeless something warm when the city is cold, cold, COLD. I see you trying to tell the police the bad things you know, but no one can hear us. You are an angel in a cesspool of a city... And I will make a heaven for you.

You let out a long, shaky breath, finally looking up from the card in a whirl of confusion, fear and curiosity. Your eyes instinctively glance to the windows, the curtains open a little to show the dreary, dark nightlife of Gotham below, dully glowing streetlamps, some lightbulbs dead or smashed, interrupting the neat lines guiding drivers. You almost expect to see a pair of eyes staring at you, watching you from somewhere.

Who the hell is this person? This was the way they showed their 'love'? A sixties-styled valentines card, with a riddle and a baffling message?

"Working with rats?" You question aloud.

If by rats, they meant the jerks and businessmen who came to the Iceberg Lounge to find clients and friends every other evening, then... well, they weren't wrong. You have to work there to earn enough to pay rent and everything else to make some kind of a life for yourself in Gotham. Not that you wanted to, but it was a last resort, and you steered clear of the infamous Penguin, and that horrible Falcone character, whenever you were there. But you can't help overhearing things to the grabby, drunken, smug people you waitress to there, but at this point, you'd learnt that half the GCPD weren't nearly as credible as they acted, a handful of them involved in the scandals they were brewing at the nightclub, and who else was there to tell without them telling the wrong guy and ending with you being silenced at gunpoint?

As for the homeless, believe it or not, they weren't all off their heads with drops. Some of them were just people trying to survive out on the streets of a broken-down town, young and older people cowering on street corners, some beaten by gangs, others jumpy and aware, ready to run at the smallest hint of danger. It was the ones who were simply too tired to do anything that made you stop in your tracks every now and then, as you walked home from work, before you gave in to your impulses, told them to give you a minute, and dashed into the nearest diner, grabbing something small to eat, or a hot drink to-go, the waiter bored and friendly enough to give you a smile and a nod as you went, the young man who often stayed there scribbling in a little book or typing up work-related things too shy to meet your eye, which was kind of cute, sandy-brown hair barely hiding the flush of his round cheeks, murky green eyes forced to focus on his book instead of looking up.

Was that enough to make you an angel? Really?

A few acts of kindness usually earned you a judgemental scoff, or suspicions of intentions, as no one's were really ever pure. But apparently, it's earned you an admirer, and from the looks of things, one who's more than a little unhinged.

You pick up the Polaroid last of all, and then your breath catches in shock as you stare at it, barely blinking.

It's a guy who's been making moves on you for a good few weeks now, more than double your age, packets of drops making his pockets rustle with thin plastic and his eyes unfocused. A frequent visitor to the Iceberg Lounge, who wouldn't leave you alone after you gave him his first drink of the first night, running drunkenly outside to offer you a lift when you put your arm out for a cab, trying to hold onto some part of the uncomfortably tight clothing you were expected to wear working in a place like the Iceberg Lounge.

He's slumped against a wall covered with some kind of fabric spray painted with the same question mark symbol on the envelope, though the green is blemished with crimson spatter, a rat running across his leg, blurred slightly in the shot. A laptop is in the background, where the ordeal is actually being filmed or streamed somewhere, names and comments too small in the picture to make out, though several unfocused red shapes that are most likely hearts streak up the laptop screen from its viewers. Your stomach twists and untwists into a knot, repulsed and shocked.

They killed some stupid guy... for you?

They killed a person, on a livestream... for you.

The Polaroid slips from your loosened grip, fluttering in the air for a split second before it lands beside your laptop. It makes you blink back into awareness, and you eye the card and Polaroid as if they might jump up at you.

Do you call the police? The GCPD won't ignore you, surely, if it's this level of harassment? If a person has died?

The thought of someone watching you, trying to understand you, almost worshipping you in some twisted way, brings so many thoughts and feelings up that it makes you dizzy, not knowing what to pin down as your reaction to it. Scared? Disgusted? Flattered? Curious?

What if they've been in your apartment? If they know where you live... and with Gotham's measly security, someone like this person could have found a way to break in, pick the lock or something. Is anything out of place? Hidden cameras anywhere?

Paranoia makes a shiver snake down your spine, and you sigh heavily, fingers threading through and out of your hair as you run your hands up your face and past your head.

First, check for cameras. Then, call the police. Right?

Right...

You pick up the Polaroid from beside your laptop, and your eyes flick up to the darkened screen, the small black circle of a camera at its top. Should you put some tape over it or something? Do a deep scan to check for viruses or any weird apps?

Suddenly, the screen flashes brighter, back to life, though you never touched the mousepad, and you flinch. Your eyes widen as the screen glitches and goes black, and you press down on several keys, trying to escape from whatever page it's gone on, power it off, restart.

The screen glitches for a few more moments, and then a green, pixelated question mark between some pointers slides across the screen.

Figured it out yet?

⭒❃.✮:▹ 𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ◃:✮.❃⭒ (message me know if you want to be removed. ghost blogs/dead accs have been removed.)

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bucknastysbabe · 1 year

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Hiii can you write anything where like the reader is Aemond’s older sister, she’s kinda a bitch to him (in the way older sisters always are, not like vile just rude and sometimes mean but like in a “only I can make fun of him” way), but they’re betrothed and it’s their wedding night and she’s nervous

Lmfao I love Aemond and characterizing his persona of I Am The Toughest Targ Ever But I Am Socially Awkward. Thanks for the request, hope you enjoy xoxo

Get a load of this guy!

Rating: Explicit at the end. Other than that SFW

Tags: Teasing, Incest, Frottage, pnv!sex, Aemond’s religious issues, Aemond’s social issues, targaryen!Sister, background sibling stuff aka Aegon is still an idiot, she’s mean but loves him

You poked him in the shoulder in court. More of a jab really. Aemond’s sulky purple eyes glared at you. He mouthed, “What?” You smirked and leaned down, as he hadn’t hit his growth spurt yet and whispered, “Bow a bit harder to father and you might lick his boots next time.”

Aegon dissolved into a fit of snickers, hiding his smile behind a ringed hand. Helaena held hands with mother, staring off into the distance. Aemond grimaced and hissed, “Very funny. At least I show some decency.” He held his pointed chin up high, but you could see the embarrassed flush on his cheeks.

You grinned and shoved him, earning a sharp look from mother.

You sat with your father and Lord Strong, watching Aemond twirl his sword around. You had to admit he had…grown into a handsome young man. He was your betrothed. At some point it might’ve been Jacaerys, but that ended long ago with the loss of your brother’s eye. Seeing your nephew gawk at the much more skilled, handsome, and elegant Aemond made you not question the betrothal one bit.

“Nephews? Have you come to train,” he called with that dead serious look he always held.

The boys looked apt to soil their breeches. You would too, especially if you were little Luke. They stared in shock. You smirked and leaned over the stone, shouting, “Better run lads! Aemond here is of the touchy sort!” That got a smile on their face but a sword pointed up at you.

Your brother frowned deeply, brow furrowed. He sourly replied, “You’re a very becoming jester sister!” You shrugged and laughed, Viserys’ own laughing dissolving into a haggard cough. Aemond snapped back around to get settled by Ser Criston. He was so easy to rile up, regardless of how Aemond tried to act calm and collected.

Still, he was doing better than drunkard Aegon. Drunkard Aegon was entertaining in his own ways, but no fit for a king. Everyone knew that. You hoped Rhaenyra could take the throne and that was that. Emphasis on hoped.

Your mother had informed you that the wedding was to be rushed forward. She claimed both you and your brother were past age to procreate, since Hel and Aegon had already pushed out three. You raised a brow, wondering if Alicent considered she was 19 when she had Aegon. Aemond was eighteen and you twenty. Plenty of time.

“No more questions my child,” Alicent said.

You nodded, flexing your fingers to stare at your nails. It was something to focus on. Viserys’ ill health was the real reason. You opened your mouth to speak, earning a smack to the hand.

Still you uttered.

“Aemond know?”

“Yes.”

Fuck.

Aegon was plastered. Again. But that was perfect for you to get any information on your soon-to-be forever twerp’s sexual history. He lazed on a bench in Maegor’s Holdfast, stinking of the streets and sex. You wrinkled your nose and kicked him in the thigh.

He spluttered and hazy violet eyes stared up at you. Aegon sleepily slurred, “Whahyowan?” Rolling your eyes you sat down and tucked your legs to the side. You probably smelt of dragon, hopefully the dullard wouldn’t puke. Petting back his wild locks you said, “You took Aemond to a brothel, yes?”

His pouty lips curled into a tipsy grin, manic laugh bubbling out into the high ceiling. Aegon mused, “Yea! Like a’lil maid’n!” You moved your gloved hand in jerks to get him to keep talking. Aegon sat up a little and hummed, “Ya’ scared Aem’s gonna be impotent?” He shrugged, “Refused ta’ go back w’me but he can get the job done, dear sis!”

You flatly stared while the prince giggled and slapped his knee in hysteria.

“Ha-ha very funny Aegon. Good news he’ll be able to get it up,” you poked him, “Unlike someone I know!” Aegon gaped for a moment before laughing harder, clutching his stomach. You couldn’t help but join in with him, he had always kept you laughing.

A couple days before the wedding you approached Aemond in the library. He was pouring over scrolls per usual, one eye intense and rapidly moving across the words. He stiffened and sat up, primly addressing you, “Princess.”

You hopped onto the wooden table, placing your hand over his readings. Aemond huffed, crossing his arms and pursing fine lips. In an exasperated tone he asked, “Will you drop the terrorizing older sibling act when we are to be wed?” You almost laughed in his face before registering the tone of uncertainty, the dead honesty in his eye.

Slowly, softly, and quite nervously you placed your hand over his much bigger one. Aemond inhaled sharply, tilting his blonde head away. You sighed, “You know I mean nothing by teasing you right? It’s just fun to see the golden child get flustered.”

Aemond narrowed his one eye, lovely hair swaying as he snapped his head up, but didn’t move his hand away. He stated, “Golden child. Hm.” His jaw ticked as the second son thought over your words. You leaned in with a secretive smile, whispering, “Well obviously Aegon’s not fit and Hel is taking care of his kids, playing with bugs.”

Aemond scoffed at your dismissal of Helaena. He filled in, cocking his head, “What does that make you then? The troublesome elder sister who should’ve had offspring by now?” You smacked his shoulder lightly in dismay.

“Easy now Aemond,” you teased. His lips quirked slightly, that cute blush from embarrassment rearing it’s head. He stared at you quietly, cheeks pinkened. You raised a brow, nervously joking, “What? Why are you looking like that?”

The chair scraped back with a jolt, you yelped and jumped in surprise. Aemond’s big hands covered your shoulders as hard lips pressed to your own. He softened slightly, you moving your lips against his own. Your hand came up to tilt his head so his nose would stop mashing against yours. Little fool.

The kiss grew heated, Aemond’s hands squeezing softly. He tentatively lapped against your tongue, you gasping in excitement. The pair of you lazily moved together, pressing closer and closer. Your brother made a soft sigh, twirling his tongue against your own. You spread your legs to let him closer. He grunted and gripped harder, growing desperate. When you reached down to palm his hard length Aemond pulled back with a sharp gasp, readjusting himself.

You gasped in shock, biting out, “The hells Aem? Something wrong with you?”

He heaved, composing himself back to that cold demeanor. Aemond declared snootily, “We must wait until our wedding. As the gods intended.” A purple eye flicked down while he continued, “I think it’s best if you go for now.”

You were annoyed now. The bastard got you riled up and your cunt wet. What did it matter if the wedding was days away? You snapped, “Others take you! Do you always have to be so damn proper? Imp.”

Indignantly hopping down the table you couldn’t help but feel scorned, tugging your stays into place. Aemond stood stiff as a board, like his obviously interested cock in his trousers. He avoided your angry glare. You scoffed and stomped off. Atleast you knew he was hung.

You were properly wed now. Also very clothed with your nuisance of a brother pacing around— clothed too. He had forbidden the usual bawdy act of the bedding ceremony. Aegon had loudly complained the entire time, damn pervert. Nerves shook your body. Aemond muttered to himself, “Okay. Duty. I will fulfill my duty.”

You began to take off your beautiful dress, a bit dejected at his utilitarian approach to this. You had hoped the passion he had in the kiss earlier this week would come back.

Once your second stocking was off Aemond stopped pacing and gawked at you. He deadpanned, “What are you doing?” You spat, “Undressing myself so you can ‘fulfill your duty’ husband!” He looked upset, lips pursing in distaste. Aemond said almost imperceptibly, “Wait.”

You stopped and raised a brow. He came closer, now much larger frame crowding your own. He murmured, “That’s my job to undress my wife.” Your gaze softened, a hand reaching blindly for Aemond’s calloused one. You squeezed his hand gently.

As if struck by a force Aemond lifted and pushed you onto the bed. He yanked off his boots frantically, calling, “One second, okay? Stay still.” You couldn’t help but laugh, some of the nerves dissipating at the rigid brother hopping around stripping like a madman. Your laugh stopped as his hardened body was revealed to your eyes.

Fuck. He was handsome. That cock was terrifying to think about fitting inside of you. He stilled and asked, “I know I’m all scarred-,” you interrupted and hissed, “Take off the damn patch and undress me like you promised.”

He did so and busied himself ridding your dress and underclothes with steady hands. You complimented, “I love the sapphire, dolt.” He smacked your bare ass, yanking off your chemise. You moaned at the sharp pain, cunt beginning to ache.

Aemond flipped you over and crawled onto the bed, his sureness melting away. Like your own as the gravity of the situation hit you. Man and wife, naked as the day they were born, about to consummate their union. You shook with anxiety, panting under his strong body.

Aemond blinked slowly before saying, “It’s just your ‘imp’ of a brother, relax.” You closed the gap between your faces, closing into his lips like before. Aemond settled between your thighs, hard cock slotting against your bare cunt. Both of you gasped into the kiss, hands running wild across pale bodies. You deepened the kiss, licking inside Aemond’s warm mouth.

He responded with a low noise and a rut against your slick entrance. The tip of his cock drug against your bundle of nerves, drawing a surprised whine out of you. Aemond seemed to smile against your mouth, doing it again, even grabbing your hips to get a better angle.

You wrapped your thighs around his slim waist, moaning softly. Everything felt so nice. You nipped Aemond’s lip and begged, “Aem, Aem, ah- kiss my neck?” He hummed and lowered his mouth down your jaw and to the sensitive thin skin of your throat.

You threw your head back and let out a long whine, rutting back against him roughly. Your belly was tightening like it did when you pleasured yourself late, late at night. Aemond groaned quietly, sucking a mark onto your collarbone, one of his hands curiously groping your breast.

Your clit was growing more sensitive from the friction, gasping out, “Fuck! Aemond you better not stop!” He laughed breathily, “I won’t dear sister.” He snapped his hips a couple more times before you cried out and locked your thighs tight around him. Your cunt pulsed and wetted further along his cock.

Aemond groaned, “Gods, fucking hells. I need to fuck you.”

You nodded in a heated daze, begging, “Yes, yes, fuck me brother.”

He reached down to ease himself in, breathing going stuttered and harsh. You whined at the pinch, clinging to his wide shoulders, grabbing onto long blonde hair. He slid in until fully seated as best as he could in your tight pussy, desperately panting and kissing.

“Oh my,” was all he could utter.

The pair of you kissed until Aemond began to stroke into your now relaxed body. The pain had subsided, your slick easing the way. He gritted out against you, “Not- fuck- going to last my lady.” You babbled, “Don’t care, go wild you idiot.” He growled and wetly slapped harder into you, balls hitting your ass. You smiled— still so easy to piss off that one.

Aemond roughly fucked you, focusing all his energy like in the training yard. You yanked at his silky strands, moaning with abandon, crying his name with delight.

“That’s it! Fuck! Yes brother!”

Aem slapped your ass again, biting your lip until it bled. He groaned, “Yeah? Good?” You nodded with an echo, “Yes, s’good!” Aemond’s eye seemed to roll up as he fucked deeper, face falling to the sweaty crook of your neck. He grabbed so hard at your waist it would bruise later, snapping his hips with feral grunts.

You praised him along, the twitching of his cock growing more frequent. Aemond panted, “Close.” Squeezing around his length, you kissed at the tender scar around the bad eye. Your younger brother slammed into you a final time, filling you with his hot seed. The blonde rasped your name in a low timbre, mumbling nonsense as he shook.

He relaxed and slumped onto you, petting your hair in a haze. You’d never seen your brother so worn out, pliant. He sucked in breath, palms soothing the skin where he was practically tearing at your waist. You sighed at the feeling of completeness. It was done, and quite fantastic at that.

You couldn’t help but pinch Aemond’s sharp cheek and tease, “If only you fucked as well as you interact with others.” His annoyed grumble lit up your heart. So, so easy.

#asks answered #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen #hotd imagine #hotd smut #hotd fic #aemond targaryen x reader #targaryen!reader

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aalyssah · 1 year

Text

Nightmare

Pairing: Solo Sikoa x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff!

Word Count: 764

A/N: @reignssupremacyy I hope I met your expectations! Hope You Enjoy!

You ran through the woods, bare foot, tears streaming down your face, as you yelled for hell. "Help! Anyone, Please!" You saw light from a house down through the trees. You were so close. So close to freedom, until you were snatched by a strong grip. "You thought you could escape?" The man who was once your loving father teased you.

“After everything I've done for you, you think you can run away?" The anger in his voice scared you even more. He dropped you on the cold floor, pulling an axe from the ground. "You're nothing. You're useless to me, that's why you should've died instead of your Mom!" He raised the axe to kill you and just then, you woke up.

Breathing heavy and tears in your eyes were evident as you just woke up from that nightmare. Solo sat up, turning on his lamp, looking scared for you. "Hey, what's wrong?" You shook your head, not wanting to talk about it. Solo tried touching you, but you flinched away, smacking his hand.

His jaw tense as you fought him. All he wanted to do was help you, but you were being stubborn. "What's wrong? What happened?" You kept shaking your head ignoring his questions, making him mad. You never told him about your father, especially after your Mom died.

The way he treated you was terrible. He always blamed you for your mothers death because she died while giving birth to you.

Usually Solo wouldn't have such a short temper, but it was currently, 3:47 AM in the morning and he has to go to the gym in 2 hours and he has a match tonight and you woke him up without telling him the reason.

He huffed out, rubbing his forehead. "Look, there's obviously something wrong with you. You wake up from breathing heavily, crying, and sweating and you wonder why I'm concerned?" You just sat there looking at him, with a blank expression.

That pissed him off even more. "Just tell me!" You flinched at his yelling. "I-I said don't w-worry about i-it!" Your voice cracked at almost every word as you told him. "No, tell me what's wrong." He was really pushing this 'issue'. You didn't understand why he wanted to talk about it, even after you told him 'No'.

"Your being, so useless right now. If you don't wanna tell me, then just sit here and cry like a bitch." With that being said, he turned the lamp off and pulled the blanket back over him. You sat in the same spot, frozen in hurt. You bite your lip, hard.

You were biting it so hard that if you bite any harder, blood would draw from it. You couldn’t hold back the sobs that came out your mouth as you thought back to what he said. ‘Your useless!’ and ‘Cry like a bitch.’ The tears fell as your mouth opened, letting out sobs.

You tried to cover your mouth, but it didn’t work. You wiped your eyes furiously, trying to stop the tears and to shut up, so Solo won’t yell at you again, but it didn’t work. All you could think about was your father and it killed you. Solo on the other hand, laid in bed with his back turned, guilt filling his body as he hears you cry.

He didn’t mean to make you cry, he was just frustrated. He sat up and turned the lamp on, looking at you. He took in your red eyes, and the snot coming out your nose. He sighed and walked to the bathroom getting tissue, before wiping your nose. Your breathing picked up as he touched your body, slightly, which made him feel even worse.

“Baby, I’m sorry, please.” You shook, sniffing as you wiped your eyes once more. “I-it’s done. It was m-my fault.” You did a little chuckling, brushing it off, but Solo wasn’t gonna end it this soon. “No, it’s my fault. I yelled at you instead of being patient, knowing something happened.” He held your hands in his, his thumb finger rubbing across your knuckles.

“I’m sorry, for being so rude and I understand if you don’t wanna talk about it, just please forgive me.” You forgave him the moment he apologized. You pushed your head in his chest, surprising him. His arms wrapped around your frame, holding you gently against his chest.

His hands scratched your scalp helping you go to sleep. “It’s alright, go back to sleep. I’ll be here when you have another nightmare.”

#solo sikoa #solo sikoa imagine #solo sikoa fic #solo sikoa smut #solo sikoa x reader #wwe fluff #wwe smut

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liamthemailman · 2 months

Text

♠️♥️House of Cards♣️♦️

Act Two Part Two - Deal

CW: None

The way to King’s office was a distance away from the medical bay, unfortunately. It only meant more bright lights and noise from passing foot traffic that Ace had to power through. It was good enough that he was stable on his feet as he tried to ignore the thrumming pain in his head, and the curious looks directed to his neck.

His mind strayed as he walked, wondering why King had called him into his office. In addition to that, Ace couldn’t make sense of King’s summary of the incident. It was vague and left more questions than answered, and Ace dreaded whatever conversation that was awaiting him.

Ace would like to think that King had decided to go easy on him, perhaps already over the fact that he had attacked his wife, figuring Queen would have already told him by now. Though how much truth was in Queen’s reports was up for debate.

Ace nears a corner leading to King’s office, feet brisk and light. Just as he turns around the corner, he sees a captain exit King’s office. He watches as the man closes the door behind him, readjusting the boonie hat that sits on his head.

They pass each other in the hallway. Ace bowed his head a little as he caught the eye of the superior officer. The captain nods back, his mutton shops stretching into a polite smile, and they part ways walking in opposite directions. Ace looks over his shoulder as the higher-ranking soldier disappears around the corner.

Ace brushes the short lived interaction away and knocks at King’s door.

“Major Hansley, it’s Lieutenant Doe. May I enter?” Ace waits for a response as he listens to muffled paper shuffling on the other side before hearing King telling him to come in.

The office lights were a little dimmer than the overhead fluorescent lights, Ace’s headache already reducing as his eyes adjusted to the change in light. He steps closer to King’s desk, straightening up, his hands locked behind his back.

“At ease, Doe, you act like you’re in trouble.” King chuckles as they lock eyes again, eyebrows raising as he takes in Ace’s rigid posture. “Have a seat.”

The chair drags a little as Ace seats himself on the wobbly chair, pulling himself closer to the desk. King gives another short laugh as he notices the puzzled look on Ace’s face.

“Am I not, sir? I figured Captain Tudor would have reported what happened in the safehouse.”

“Trust me, Lieutenant, Elize did not spare me the details,” King sighs. He picks up a folder and puts his reading glasses on. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve caused a bit of trouble.. But before we start..”

Ace watches as King slides a form towards him. Ace furrows his eyes at the paper, leaning closer to read the text.

“Transfer forms,” King says, leaning forward in his office chair. “Another captain has requested your transfer, if you’re up for it, of course.”

Ace picks up the papers, swiftly skimming over the details of it before placing them back down on the desk. His eyes meet King’s again as the other man awaits his answer. A pause stretched between them as Ace debated his choices. Given, he had his issues with the team, but Ace found that they didn’t necessarily call for a transfer.

“...No thank you, sir, I’ll stay where I am.”

“Very well,” King hums, taking back the forms and setting it aside. “So, regarding your.. Slip up during your last mission.”

Ace tenses as he waits to be chewed out. It was only natural, seeing that he admittedly did strike Queen first. He had no excuse for his actions and Ace doubts he could even reason with King about it anyway.

“Queen has suggested a.. Uh, immediate dishonourable discharge for you, seeing that your records aren’t exactly clean either,” King states, opening the folder and flipping through the pages, his glasses sitting on the edge of his nose. Ace subconsciously holds his breath as King skims through the papers, unnerved by how nonchalant he seemed even as he referenced Ace’s time as Mad Dog.

“However, your skills are too valuable to let go-” King continues, causing Ace’s shoulders to relax a little. “-and given your last count of insubordination was well over five years ago, with your previous team no less, I’ve decided not to process her complaints.”

Ace let out a soft huff of relief, shifting in his seat as King continued to flip through the pages. He released his fists, seemingly having clenched them unknowingly.

“Thank you, Major, but-”

“Please, Doe, it’s just us. No need to act like there’s a stick up your arse.” King hums, earning a sigh of frustration from Ace. He shuts the file sharply. He places the file back down on his desk.

“Okay.. Again, thank you, Hansley..” Ace says, forcing the words out of his mouth. “Though I must ask, what’s the catch?”

His words cause King to bark a laugh, finally making him look back at Ace. Ace tensed as he caught the slight gleam in King’s eyes, only confusing him further.

“Sharp as ever, eh, mate? You’re not really off the hook since I can’t let you walk away scot free, you understand.” King says, sliding the folder towards Ace, silently cueing him to pick it up. Ace flips through the pages. “So here’s the deal. Just take care of this thorn in my side for me, and we forget it ever happened. Deal?”

Ace’s eyes flit over to the objectives. It seemed simple enough. A solo mission. Doing some reconnaissance for upcoming mission operations and simple maintenance on a satellite ground receiver. Everything was right up Ace’s alley, which was perfect since it made his life easier.

“Deal.”

“Good man, Ace,” King says, leaning back, his chair squeaking under his massive weight. “Wheels up at 0500 hours.”

With that, Ace was dismissed.

Quicksaving...

#House of Cards AU #Act 2 Part 2 #cod oc #call of duty oc #oc: LT Ace #oc: Major King #mailman rants #fanfic #fanfiction #Task Force Cards

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andhumanslovedstories · 1 year

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Hi Brandon Sanderson apologist here: you said you want to bully him about the Mormonism which I totally get but like half his books are about questioning religion and things you've been taught all your life and he writes women and disabled people really well and respectfully so really makes you think 🤔 anyways

Honestly I don't know how to feel about him! I haven't really read enough by him to say how his religion affects his writing. I respect the statement he made about being Mormon and his opinions on LGBTQ rights. He says that this statement is not going to be enough for many people. I might be one of them, but I like the thoughtfulness of the statement. I'm still uncomfortable that he's affiliated with Brigham Young University, in fact it's my biggest issue with him, but he's clearly not Orson Scott Card and it would be unfair to say he's the same. Honestly he reminds me a lot of my world religions professor in high school who was so cool and so smart and so open-minded and taught me so much about so many different faiths in a way that seemed fair and passionate about all of them, and she was also Mormon. Like, adamantly Mormon. And I have plenty of authors I love who are/were Catholic as hell, a church institution that has got a much longer record of Believing and Promoting Politics I Don't Like. And I work at a religious hospital! I don't support religion dictating what healthcare people can receive, but I still work there. It's complicated. People do and are a lot of things that are complicated.

And I just keep thinking of that incredible complexity of people's relationship with the faith community they were raised in, the complexity of people's spirituality and belief and faith and how that intersects with the rest of their lives. About personal belief and institutional belief and when those differ and how do we trust someone when they say these things differ. Him being Mormon isn't a deal breaker to me as a reader, but I understand why it would be for others. I also don't think I know enough about him and his work to truly feel definitively either way.

I think the rub for me comes from the tithing aspect of the religion. I don't like the idea that even if Brandon Sanderson writes a book about a bunch of homos getting gay married then abortions via elaborate rock-based magic systems over the course of a thousand pages, a portion of the profits is going to be tithed to a church whose politics and missions I do not support. But again. I work for a hospital that prominently features Jesus in its mission statement. When I vote, I vote Democrat. Neither of those things one hundred percent align with all my beliefs (they in fact keep finding exciting new ways of falling short!), but they align with enough of my beliefs that I don't think I'm compromising who I am and what I value by supporting them. But hey, if other people were like "I don't like either of those things," depending on the reasoning, I understand and maybe even agree. I don't think all these things are the exact same thing, but. I don't know! It's complicated. If I ever get around to reading Mistborn, I'll come back and puzzle through it some more.

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ingravinoveritas · 6 months

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regarding the post today about Anna's nasty comments, "jokes" etc about Michael's appearance in the last few years. Do you think there is genuine reason to feel worried about him and what it may be doing to his mental health overall? What I mean is I am starting to worry and then it makes start to spiral a bit and think that if he stays with her longer that the possibility of her "soft bullying" will escalate into actual abuse and I really don't want to think like that but it really makes me worry for him. Please tell me what you think and should I just take a step back and not think on it too hard (am I?) If you agree with me though, what do you think can be done to help him? Like as in a safe way for him to break up with her? I appreciate whatever you can do to help ease my mind at least.

martinsharmony replied to your post "So for those who haven't seen, AL posted a new..."

I have to wonder about Michael's state of mind. He has said he has his own body issues and has struggled with depression etc. The fact that he is "letting" her do this makes me worry about him a little. The fact that he's not standing up for himself and setting a boundary. From my own experience, all of this is okay, until it's not. My heart goes out to Michael. Of course I don't know the real truth. But I see a little of myself there. I recognize it.

(Grouping these two together due to having similar themes.)

First, I am glad that you felt comfortable enough to message me about this and share your thoughts. But I think there are a few things going on here, and it's important that we have some perspective. When I started responding to asks and questions about AL on my blog four years ago, it was largely as a counter to what many of us were seeing the fans do, which was idealizing Michael and AL's relationship and making it into some sort of fairy tale romance. Many of us could see things that did not seem to hold true to this narrative, but were afraid to discuss it openly. So the discourse became about open and honest conversations and speculation, and since GO 2 came out, that discourse has only seemingly increased (if the Asks and Anons in my inbox are anything to go by).

To your comments, @martinsharmony, these are some very good points you are raising, and I'm sorry that you see yourself in Michael's shoes. I think there's a chance many of us do, and is part of why we have the strong feelings we do--one way or the other--about this situation. I think a lot of us see Michael's visible unhappiness and are jarred by the sharp contrast between that and the narrative of him and AL being "madly in love."

I do, however, think there is a real risk of taking that line of thinking so far in the opposite direction. That is, if it's not okay for fans to assume that everything is perfect and wonderful and the absolute best with Michael and AL's relationship, then it is also not okay to assume everything is the absolute worst, because extremes in either direction are not a good thing, and reality often exists somewhere in the middle. Reality and relationships are also infinitely complicated, which means that there often are no easy answers.

Also, because things are not ever truly black-and-white, I think it's important not to conflate being an unpleasant person with being an abuser. There tends to be an assumption that an abuser is mean and nasty all the time, every day, but so many abusers are viewed as "the nicest person you ever met" by everyone but the victim, which is how they are so often able to get away with what they do. Conversely, someone (such as AL) might be self-absorbed, immature, and annoying, but that does not make them an abuser.

Again, in no way, shape, or form am I saying that it is a bad thing to care about Michael, or to want him to be happy. But what we are ultimately talking about here is Michael's agency--that is, his right to make his own choices, and to deal with and feel whatever he feels about the consequences of those choices. By either romanticizing or catastrophizing his relationship with AL, we are unintentionally removing that agency. We have to remember that Michael is an adult man who has been in many other relationships in his life, and has navigated those (with varying degrees of success) on his own. So while we can have conversations and engage in discussion here, it is very much not appropriate and not our place to intervene with any of this personally or to try and facilitate the breakup of Michael's relationship.

Remember, too, that Michael has people in his life that he can trust and confide in--his parents (who are still alive and live near him, bless them), his sister, his friends. And he has David, of course, which we know is a beautiful thing. He and David have gotten immeasurably closer over the last four years and it is genuinely heartwarming to know that he can turn to David. The point here is that while we are fans of Michael's, we are not his family nor his friends. But Michael is not alone in this, and has support available to him, and that is something to be grateful for.

Going back to my previous comments about agency, one of the things that I know I love about Michael is that he is always going to do what he wants to do. He has reasons for doing those things, which means that if he is still with Anna, there is a reason for that (even if it is, as many of us believe, due to wanting to be there for the kids). And if/when Michael should decide to break up with her, there will be a reason for that as well. The most important thing, however, is that it's his choice. That if he decides he's made a mistake, it's his mistake to own, and not something for us to save him from.

I hope this has helped to put your mind at ease. I also want to make it clear that I absolutely do not have all the answers, and this (like all my posts) is my own opinion. Taking a step back might still be a good idea, as we can all find ourselves becoming too invested from time to time, and it is good to take a breather on occasion and find perspective. Glad as always for my followers to share their thoughts on this post as well...

#harmoniaserpentine #martinsharmony #reply post #michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #relationships #also i have no doubt Michael has set boundaries and spoken up for himself #so what we see on social media might just be what he is barely willing to tolerate #but that is a whole other discussion for another day #anna lundberg #thoughts #discourse

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emotionalmessss · 1 year

Text

Punishments

A/N: lloyd hansen one-shot because I am obsessed with his character. sorry for any mistakes in advance. I tried to capture his character to the best of my abilities.

Synopsis: lloyd kidnaps six's girlfriend to get back at him.

Warnings: violence, torture, rape/non-con, humiliation, kidnapping, hostage situation, manipulation. This is dark. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Word count: 6.2K

My eyes slowly scan over the parking lot of the restaurant that I work at. The street lights had flicked on and barely illuminated the street beside me. I had worked over eight hours, greeting and waiting on people who would drink until they could barely stand and talk about their next business venture. High end restaurants often brought in many douche-bags, but it also provided me with good money. I would be lying if I said it did not pay off waiting on the old men who would eye up my body and slide me an extra hundred for my ‘services’. I learned to smile and laugh when this would happen, whilst holding in my puke.

Six had told me that I should just quit, and that I would be well provided for. Which was not something that I wanted to do. He was always working, and never really home. I loved him, but I always felt forgotten about. I barely knew anything about what he did, but it raised a few questions when I started to see the scars on his body.

“It’s for your own safety.” He would always say.

Sometimes I felt like it would be safer if I did know what his job was. I knew he worked for the government, and that he needed to be away for awhile. It had been a week since I last saw him, which was unusual.

I had to be shunned from everything in his work field. I was again told that it was for my own safety and security reasons.

Even with Six’s work putting a strain on our relationship, I always found that I completely forgot about it when I was with him. My past relationships had instilled an ungodly amount of insecurities and trust issues upon me. Since being with Six, I had begun to let go of those feelings and worries.

I let out a heavy sigh as my heels clicked against the pavement, removing myself from my thoughts and focusing on finding my car. It was not hard, since there were very few vehicles in the enormous parking lot. I had finished my last table for the night and was ready to get home and crawl into bed.

The night air left my body feeling hot and sticky, clinging to my skin like latex. I could not wait to get out of this dress and eat my leftover Chinese from the night before.

My fingers looped through the keychain that was attached to my car keys, pulling it out of my purse and swinging it back to my side. I pressed the unlock button a few times, hearing the beeping of my car in the distance.

I approached my black Audi, opening the driver side door and sliding in. I slung my purse over and onto the passenger seat, letting out another sigh. This was the first time I was able to sit down all night, except for the rare moments I caught a small break in the kitchen. I realized just how exhausted my legs were now that I was able to sit down. My feet were cramping up in the heels and my calves felt like they were going to collapse under my weight at any second.

My fingers tried to find the push start, fiddling around aimlessly in the dark. The car slowly rumbled to life and I reached around to grab a hold on the seat belt. It extended with a small whine and then stopped immediately, unable to wrap completely to the buckle.

“The fuck?” I said before I felt the excess belt wrap around my neck and pull tight. My hands immediately shot up to my neck, attempting to get the looped belt off of my neck. I strained as I felt it tighten against the soft skin of my neck, digging in painfully with every move I made.

My heeled foot slid off the brake in my panicked state and I went to scream.

It was short and shrill before I felt a sharp tug of the belt, causing me to cough and sputter as I slammed back against the headrest. A groan tried to escape my throat when I hit the seat, hard. I shut my eyes for a moment, trying to get an understanding of my situation.

“Nice car. What is it? 2020 or 2021?” The voice came from the back seat. “It smells new, I would say 2021?” The voice continued as a cold sense of fear washed over my body as I remained silent.

My hands were still fighting with the seatbelt strap, wanting it off my neck.

“Don’t go doing that now, you’re going to hurt yourself.” His voice taunted as my eyes attempted to strain back to look at him. They were widened in panic and my breathing became erratic at the sound of his voice.

The man’s hand fell to my bare shoulder, keeping it there. I felt myself taking large gulps of air and glancing around wildly. “There’s money in my purse and you can take the car.” I rambled out quickly, my chest rising and falling quickly.

The man let out a deep chuckle and tightened his grip on my shoulder, reminding me that he was very much still here and this was not a dream. The cool side of a blade touched my jaw line, but now enough to break the skin. It was a silent threat, causing me to shudder and try to edge myself away from it.

The seat belt strained and the tip of the knife dug further into my neck.

I heard the man click his tongue and tsk at me, almost like he was disappointed in me.

The sound of him sliding closer on the leather seats filled my ears and my eyes darted up to the rearview mirror, where I was able to see a glimpse of his face. His eyes were bright, as if he was smiling at me, but I could not see the rest of his face. I also caught a glimpse of my own terrified eyes, which were illuminated by the dash of my car.

“I don’t want either of those things.” He purred, much closer to me now. His warm breath hit my ear and I could faintly smell chocolate on his breath.

“Then what the fuck do you want?” I whined, straining my head back to remove some of the pressure on my neck. Which only brought me closer to the man that rested directly behind me.

The man hummed. “I want a lot of things, but we’ll get to that soon.” He continued to taunt me, his lips grazing the side of my ear now. His breath was hot and wet, making goosebumps rise up on my bare arms.

I felt my mind shift over to Six for a moment, wondering where he was and what he would do in this type of situation. I also feared that I would not see him ever again after this moment. I wanted nothing more than to be at home with him, anywhere but here.

My eyes moved away from his, looking everywhere but at him. “Awe, you’re so nervous you won’t even look me in the eye, cupcake.” I clenched my jaw at his words and looked back into the mirror, locking eyes with him.

I opened my mouth to scream and tried lurching forward, my hands were reaching for the shifter as I slammed my foot onto the brake.

“Ah, ah. Where do you think you’re going?” The man said, grabbing onto the seat belt once again and pulling it tight again. He exhausted all of the belt and let it whine back up, keeping it tight without him touching it.

His free hand now covered my mouth and pulled me against the seat again. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a woman so eager to get away from me before.” His voice oozed out from beside me and I glared back at him in anger, unable to get any words out.

“You’re going to be a good girl now, or I’m going to put a bullet between those pretty eyes, okay?” The man sounded annoyed and humored all at the same time.

I did not react to his words until his hand squeezed my cheeks together, painfully. “Okay?” He repeated and I forced myself to nod in agreement. A rush of heat came up to my cheeks and I felt humiliated at his actions.

“Now, I think it’s time for you to take a little nap. You’re a bit cranky.” His voice mocked in a high tone as he released my cheeks.

My eyes widened in realization. I tried again, to launch myself towards my purse for my pepper spray that I kept in the console, in one last attempt to escape this strange man, but was caught by the belt. I felt a wet and smelly rag press into my nose and mouth and my head whipped from side to side, trying to get his hand off me. I involuntarily took a deep breath in when he pressed it into me.

“Tell me, does this smell like chloroform?” The man asked, his voice once again mocking me and my current situation. By the tone of his voice and the way his eyes squinted, I knew that he was smiling from ear to ear.

I tried to hold my breath as long as possible. My lungs felt like they were going to burst and I knew I would never be able to get his hand away from me, even with my hands attempting to pry it away from me. My vision began to grow fuzzy and my eyes rolled back as I let the darkness take over.

******** My eyes lazily adjusted to the light as I began to open them. My vision was blurry and gray in some spots. I blinked a few times, trying to get my vision to straighten out. After a few moments, it did. Although, I could feel a raging headache start to creep up behind my eyes.

I shook my head for a moment, trying to gather up as much information as I could. Work. Parking lot. Stranger. Knife. Kidnap. My mind raced with thoughts as I began to glance around. There was a blinding light above me and a dirty ground beneath me.

I tried to pull myself forward to stand, only to find out that I was tied to a chair by my arms and legs. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. My mouth felt dry and I also realized that there was a gag in my mouth, preventing me from screaming.

“Nice of you to finally wake up. Did you have a good nap? Feel refreshed?” A man stepped out from behind me, placing himself in front of me. He was smiling proudly as he looked down at me.

I narrowed my eyes on him as he cocked his head to the side.

“Are you into bondage or anything? I can’t help but note how good you look like this, cupcake.” There it was again, that sick nickname he came up with for me. It made me nauseous every time he said it.

I watched him nervously as he stepped forward and removed the rag from my mouth, dropping it to the ground. I shifted my tongue around freely and swallowed hard, still tasting the bitter rag on my taste buds. I flicked my gaze away from him and noticed my purse sitting on a shiny metal table a few feet from us. It was tipped over and my phone laid there, all out in the open.

“Are you worried your mommy called or something?” The man asked, seemingly understanding what I was thinking. He stepped back into my view as he walked over towards the table, his body standing tall and proud.

“What do you want from me?” I asked, trying to create some saliva in my very dry mouth. The feeling of the rag being stuffed into it was still present. My body was awkwardly tensed on the small chair that I sat on, feeling way too exposed in my current situation.

His back was turned away from me as he rummaged through my purse, throwing the contents all over the table. My eyes moved up and down his body. He was wearing a black turtleneck shirt that was tight around his muscular body and a pair of gray dress pants, along with some god awful loafers. His hair was slicked back and he had a thick mustache above his lip.

The man turned back towards me, his head cocking to the side. “Six.”

I sucked in deeply and frowned, averting my eyes for a brief moment at the sound of his name. “Why would you need me for him? You seem perfectly capable of finding him yourself.” I muttered back to him, rolling my eyes. I tried my best to maintain my composure around this man, something in the back of my head told me that he fed off fear.

The man raised his eyebrows in surprise, his smile widening as he did so.

“He’s your boyfriend, isn’t that right? Where is he?” His back faced the table, which he was now leaning against casually. I refused to answer him, remaining silent. The man’s eyes closed for a moment as he shrugged. “I’ll get it out of you soon enough.” He clicked his tongue and crossed his arms as he eyed me.

I felt a flash of embarrassment. I knew that he was studying every inch of my overly exposed body and it made me feel sick to my stomach. His eyes paused for a moment at my exposed tits, which were shoved up by the bra I was wearing. I watched in humiliation as his eyes then scanned down to my legs, taking in every inch of them. I felt the anger and humiliation nip at my skin, trying to claw its way out. I wanted to make him feel the way he made me feel.

“And you have a horrible mustache.” I felt myself saying it before I could stop myself.

The man’s reaction surprised me. He began to laugh deeply, placing his hand on his stomach and bending his knees slightly. His hand went up to wipe his eye and he shook his head in amusement.

“Oh, you’re too funny!” The man laughed hard, too hard. Confusion washed over my face before I could hide it. I could not even blink before he was leaning over me, his hands placed on the armrest of the chair as he glared down at me. “But a little predictable don’t you think? Not very original.” The man deadpanned, his demeanor changing within a flash.

“I’ll ask this one more time before I resort to measures you won’t particularly enjoy. Where is he?” His threat was clear and promising, his grip on the armrest of the chair tightening.

The warmth of his body was discomforting, his body hovering over mine and making me feel tiny beneath his strong figure.I leaned back into the chair, attempting to create some distance between us. “I’m not telling you anything.” I argued back, knowing that I was testing his limits.

The man’s eyes glistened and he smiled, his shiny white teeth filling up his face. “Have it your way then.” He straightened himself as he began to reach into his pocket. I inhaled deeply, feeling like I could finally breathe again. I glared up at him in defiance, feeling the hatred for this man bubble up in my stomach. I had no idea what he wanted with Six. The less this man knew, the better.

“Lloyd!” A man came rushing through the door, causing us to both break our eye contact.

“What have I said about interrupting me when I’m working!” The Lloyd man spoke, seemingly annoyed. “Can’t you see I have a pretty guest waiting for me?” He shook his head slowly as he walked over to the man who called to him.

He tilted his head to the side as the man whispered something to him. I edged forward in the seat, trying to catch a word of what the man was saying. Lloyd’s eyes widened and he pursed his lips forward. “Who knew it would be that easy to get Six out of hiding with you. Looks like you’re more useful than I thought.” His attention turned back towards me, a toothy grin reappearing on his face.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” I played stupid as I tried to hide the feeling of fear at the sound of Six’s name. This was new information for me too, I had no idea where Six had been for the past week. My thoughts raced as Lloyd closed the distance between us once again.

“Don’t play dumb. Your boyfriend stole something rather important from me and ran, sunshine. And you’re the perfect leverage to get him out of hiding.” He pointed up and down to me, and I frowned. He knows too much, I cursed.

I looked up at him. “I have nothing to do with this. I haven’t seen him in-”

“A week or so?” Lloyd interrupted me, his smile taunting. I frowned deeper and averted my attention from him. “Does it ever get lonely?” He suddenly asked, taking a step closer to me. His hands were in his pockets and he leaned back slightly, as if he was catching up with an old friend.

“Does it ever get tiring being such a dick?” My eyes lazily flicked back over to him, barely giving him a second gaze before looking away again.

Lloyd’s eyebrows raised once more and he crossed his arms, his smile not changing. “Does it ever get tiring picking shitty boyfriends? Trying to fill the void that daddy left you with? Hm?” He rebutted, crouching down in front of me now. His shoes squeaked on the floor beneath him, adjusting to his new position, he looked up at me with a fake sense of sadness on his face.

My eyes widened for a moment and I sucked in a sharp breath. A new sense of anxiety washed over me now, one that I could not hide due to my shaking body. My teeth were clamped down so hard that I thought I might shatter my teeth. My cheeks heated up with anger and embarrassment. I didn't even want to know how he knew so much about my personal life, or what else he knew about me.

Lloyd was seemingly enjoying my reaction, he fake pouted as he rested his elbows on his knees. “You just can’t catch a break, now can you cupca-” I spat at him before he could finish his sentence. I knew I had met my target when he stiffened for a moment, his eyes closing and his nostrils flaring in anger as he let out a deep breath of air.

I instinctively leaned back in the chair and watched him with a stoic face. He fed off my reactions, and I was not about to feed into his sick mind.

Lloyd reached into his pocket and pulled out a small rag. He dabbed his face slowly, keeping his eyes closed as he breathed slowly, like he was trying to contain his anger. Once he was finished, he tucked it neatly back into his pocket.

His eyes finally opened as he looked back at me, anger flashing within them. “I’m going to gut you like a fish when Six gets here, but not before I kill him in front of you.” His threat immediately took me by surprise and my jaw dropped. So much for not giving him any more reactions.

“I- What? Six is coming here?” I blubbered, my face contorting up in confusion.

Lloyd chuckled, his reaction giving me the answer I needed. I was confused and scared, and he was enjoying every minute of it. His eyes were scanning me up and down, watching me with a new found excitement.

“Awe,” he mocked. “Are you sad our time is coming to an end, cupcake?” My eyes narrowed at his words and I turned my head away from him. This sick, twisted man was going to kill me. The only thing I knew was it involved Six, which is probably why he did not want to tell me much about his job.

“Opposite, actually. I’m glad I won’t have to look at your face anymore.” I twisted my head to the side and huffed. “And you should really consider shaving that thing off your face, you might end up on a sex offender list if you don’t.”

I turned my head back towards Lloyd as I heard him stand up quickly. “You know what, I’m going to enjoy this so much more now.” His words did not register in my brain until I heard the click of a knife. The metal flashed in the light and I flinched back into the seat, half expecting him to make word on his threat.

I squeezed my eyes shut and felt the ropes suddenly loosen from my body. I opened my eyes and in a flash, I was hauled up by my armpits and pressed into the wall behind me. My legs struggled to keep up with his long strides and I let out a small cry of surprise when my back hit the cool metal of the warehouse.

The air knocked out of my lungs and my head collided with the wall. My mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, desperately trying to get the air that had escaped my lungs, back inside me.

“Sorry about that, didn’t mean to bash your head there.” Lloyd was pressed into my body, his chest brushing against mine as I swayed slightly. His hand went up to rub the side of my head and I jerked away from him.

My eyes met with his and I groaned. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

Lloyd’s tongue clicked and he chuckled. My arms were pinned to the sides of me, and even with my heels I had to look up at him. “Beautiful dress. Did Six buy this for you?” He let out a breathless sigh as I blushed at his words and turned my head away from him.

His eyes trailed up and down my body, his large hand moving to cup my waist. I shuddered and bit down hard on my lip. I turned my head back towards him, desperately trying to plead with this man silently.

Lloyd’s eyes were filled with excitement and a smirk pulled at his lips, he was once again enjoying my humiliation.

“Sorry to say that I’m going to have to ruin it.” He says as he tucks the knife back into his pocket.

Both his hands touch my waist now, slowly moving their way up to my tits. His eyes hungirly watched over my body like I was a piece of meat. His hands grasp at my breasts, kneading them through the material of my dress. A sigh of surprise leaves my lips and my skin riddles with goosebumps at his touch.

Another rush of humiliation washes over me and I turn my head to the side, no longer wanting to see him smirk at my demise. I squeeze my eyes shut as I hear him groan in satisfaction. My body reacts before I can stop it, I try to buck him away from me, only to have him tut and dig his hips harder into me.

“Are you going to be shy with me now?” He sneers at me, humor filling up his voice.

Lloyd’s hand finds the thin straps of my dress and he rips them in one strong pull. My dress drops slightly, exposing my tits and upper torso. I hear him suck in a sharp breath as he watches my tits bounce slightly from his hands tearing my dress.

“Hm. Would you look at that?” His head tilts to the side as a smirk pulls at his lips, all the while his bright eyes not leaving my chest.

Before I could say anything in response, his hands were cupping my tits again. I began to shake with fear as his thumb slipped into the dark material of my bra and flicked over my erect nipple. His eyes shoot back up to my red and teary ones, giving me a look of surprise.

“That’s a surprise.” His smug voice makes me want to spit at him again, but I decide against that idea almost immediately. “What if I just…” Lloyd mutters to himself as he tugs my bra down, my tits all out in front of him and I cringe.

He palms my exposed chest, his eyes glistening with amusement.

I shrink back into the wall and feel my lip start to quiver. My body was reacting to his touch and I could do nothing to stop it. I knew where he was going with this and there was nothing that I could do to stop him, which didn’t mean I wouldn’t try.

I tried to jam my knee up into his crotch but his reflexes were almost inhuman. His hand left my breast and caught my knee before I could reach my target. I groaned in fear and shook my head frantically.

Lloyd let out a humorless laugh. His hand gripped my thigh tightly as he rammed my leg back down to the ground. I wobbled as he jostled me against the wall, trying to adjust myself on my tall heels.

I sucked in hard when his knee wedged between my thighs, keeping them spread open for him. He leaned down towards me, his mustache tickling the side of my ear as he spoke slowly, “Too slow.” His knee parted my leg further and I cried out in fear.

“No!” I tried to fight back against him, only to have him lean further into me.

I felt Lloyd’s tongue press flat against my collar bone, trailing upwards to the lobe of my ear. His tongue left a trail of saliva on my skin that made me shudder and shrink back into the wall. My face contorted up with disgust and I whimpered.

Lloyd pulled back and looked at me, “Not into that?” He shrugged.

The soft material of his shirt pressed into my tits, rubbing against them every time he swayed or laughed. I knew he could feel it too. One of his hands locked onto my jaw, twisting it to the side as he began to kiss at my neck. While the other trailed down my waist, stopping at the hem of my dress.

“Fuck you!” I managed to cry out after not saying anything for so long.

Lloyd halted his actions and I felt a small vibration against my chest with his laughter.

“If you say so.” His voice was deep and gruff as he gripped onto my shoulders, ripping me away from the wall and taking me down to the ground with him. He landed on top of me and I cried out in pain when my back slammed against yet another hard surface.

“Sorry about the mess,” he said as he glanced around the room. “Maid is away on holidays.” He continued to taunt me as I lay beneath him. I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to look at him. The fatigue had started to take over my body now. My muscles were sore and achy, but I refused to give in.

“Don’t you just look beautiful like this, cupcake.” Lloyd’s voice was deep and lustful, his breath fanned across my face as he spoke.

“You’re a sick man.” I growled back at him, my eyes narrowing dangerously back up at him.

Lloyd’s expression never faltered as he gave another toothy grin. “Never said I wasn’t.” His legs once again found their way between mine, spreading them wide for him. My dress strained due to its tight texture and I heard a few seams pop.

The cool air wafted between my thighs and I tried to close them back up, but Lloyd’s legs were much stronger than mine. His hand found its way between my thighs once again, fiddling with the hem of my underwear. His thumb pressed hard against the thin fabric and he chuckled.

“That’s another surprise.” I frowned in disgust at my own body reacting to this, feeling so ashamed.

His thumb moved up to my clit, rubbing the sensitive bud through my underwear. I bit down on my lip hard, feeling a tear slide down the side of my face. Lloyd’s thumb moved quicker and I started to breathe heavier. I soon felt the cool air hit my pussy as he slipped his middle finger inside me.

My mouth opened his shock as he began working his finger around inside me and on my clit.

“So wet for me, cupcake.” Lloyd groaned deeply, his eyes closing for a moment. “Hear that?” He stopped talking and picked up his movements with his fingers. I frowned in shame when I heard the wet, squelching noises that I was making.

I could barely take anymore of Lloyd’s taunts and my body betraying me.

“You’re loving this, cupcake. I wonder what Six would think if he knew what was happening?” I cried out at Lloyd’s words. His fingers left my heated core, lifting them up in front of my face. As much as I tried to deny the fact I was this wet, his fingers showed otherwise.

I opened and closed my mouth quickly, shaking my head as he watched me with an amused expression.

I suddenly felt his hand grip onto my jaw and his other fingers slam into my mouth. I cried out once again at the intrusion and strained my head back away from him. His fingers prodded around my mouth, making sure that I tasted myself. Lloyd laughed hard at my grimace and shrugged.

“More for me.” My pussy clenched at his words. His fingers retracted from my mouth and found the top of my dress, tearing the rest of it off of me. He bundled them up at the bottom of my legs and pulled at my underwear.

A shrill cry escaped my lips, his face now leering down at me. “Shh, shh.” His fingers pried my mouth open and stuffed my underwear inside. I gagged at the sudden intrusion and snapped my head to the side. My tongue rubbed against the soft material, trying to push it as far away from my throat as possible, so I wouldn’t keep gagging on it. His large hands slammed my jaw back shut, before I could spit it back out at him.

“That’s better, don’t you think?” He let out a heavy sigh and trailed his eyes along my body. His hands moved to find the buckle of his belt, the sickening sound snapping me back to reality as I laid there, stunned.

My body ached from holding up his weight for so long. I could feel my legs starting to cramp and my arms grow weak from all the fighting.

I couldn’t help but glance down as Lloyd moaned from above me. His cock sprung out freely, glistening with precum as he stroked himself. My body went cold and I tried to move back from him, only to earn a sharp glance from him.

“Now then.” I watched Lloyd wipe the sweat that had formed on his forehead. He leaned forward with a grunt and gripped onto my shoulder, flipping me over onto my stomach without so much of an ounce of struggle. My arms lay in front of me, outstretched and clawing at the floor. My tits press into the cold floor, sending another shiver down my back.

“You’re not going anywhere.” Lloyd warned as he pulled me back towards him. His hands grip at my waist, pulling my bare ass towards his cock. Saliva suddenly hits my bare pussy and I jump at the feeling. I feel his finger enter me once again, another joining soon after. My walls were stretching to their capacity and I groaned at the foreign intrusion.

“So wet for me.” He moaned. His fingers dug into my waist, keeping me flat against his body while his fingers thrusted in and out of me. My back arched awkwardly, trying to relieve some of the pressure that it was under.

“Lloyd!” I tried to cry out through the gag, but it sounded muffled.

His fingers curled inside me, my walls clenched around him and my face pressed into the cool floor. “You feel so good.” His voice purred from behind me as he pulled his fingers out from me. My head strained back to look at him.

“Don’t look at me with those pretty doe eyes when I’m fucking you like this.” He grunted as he placed his cock at my entrance. My eyes widened and I whimpered, trying to move my ass away from him.

Lloyd slapped my ass hard, the sting registering immediately and my ass reddening at his action. My ass slumped back against him as he rested his cock at my entrance. Without warning, he slammed into me. A sharp cry escaped my throat and fresh tears poured out of my eyes. Lloyd let out a loud and satisfied grunt, his thrusts not relenting.

My tight walls tried to adjust to his size, straining under the feeling of this throbbing cock entering me so hard and fast. My nails dig into the floor underneath me, trying to scramble away from the force being applied to my cervix.

“Oh no you don’t.” Lloyd catches me with one hand, bringing me back towards him. His hand tangles its way through my hair and he tugs my head back. My neck strains and I cry out. I open my mouth and push the gag out of my mouth, gasping for air.

“Please, stop this.” I cried, feeling his movement pick up as he slammed into me, over and over.

I was panting for air as he seemingly ignored my pleas.

My tits bounced as he rubbed his pelvis against my ass, digging into the soft skin painfully hard. My pussy feels like it's being split open and I cry out once more, wanting him out of me. My walls burn like fire and my body screams at me for release.

I feel Lloyd’s hands on my shoulders once more, flipping me over onto my back. My lips part in surprise, but only for a moment. Lloyd’s movements do not cease as he quickly leans down towards me. His lips meet mine, hard. My eyes snap open in surprise and I groan at the feeling. His mouth moved hard and sloppily against mine, his tongue invading my mouth and swirling around.

I bite down hard when I catch his bottom lip between my teeth, feeling the skin break beneath my canines and blood fill my mouth.

Lloyd cries out in surprise and pulls away from me. This time, he stopped his movements. His fingers touched his red lips, looking down at the blood on his fingers. His brows furrowed in anger and a low rumble came from his throat. His angry eyes meet back down to mine, looking at me with a whole new sense of rage.

“You stupid bitch!” Lloyd’s hand wraps completely around my throat, cutting off my air supply immediately. My lips burn from his mustache and his blood sits on my tongue, leaving a metallic taste.

“You want it rough? I’ll give it to you rough.” His hand tightens around my neck and my mouth hangs open.

He slams into me harder now, the sound of flesh hitting flesh filling up the room. His cock rams into my core hard, making me cry out in agony and throw my head back. His hand never leaves my throat and I can feel my vision grow spotty. Before I can black out, his hand leaves my throat and pinches my nipple hard. He lowers himself down, sucking and biting down at the sensitive bud.

“You like to bite? So do I.” He growls and brings his hand back down to my clit. I feel him take the throbbing numb in between his two fingers and squeezing hard. My body jerks forward and I scream out louder, feeling a rush of heat up to my chest.

Lloyd continues to suck and nibble at my nipples, moaning to himself. “You taste so good.”

I cringe at his words and twist my body.

Time feels like it has slowed as his movements grow sloppy and more erratic. My vision blurs with tears and I feel them soak my cheeks. His cock twitches and throbs as he cums inside me, feeling me up with his hot and thick liquid.

His cock slips from my pussy, along with some of his cum, which had spilled down my thighs and onto the floor. I feel him push himself off me and stand up. My vision sways as I stare up at the bright lights.

“Let’s see what Six thinks of this.” Lloyd laughs.

#lloyd hansen #the gray man #lloyd hansen smut #lloyd hansen x reader #chris evans characters #sierra six #obsession #dark fantasy #lloyd hansen x you

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nightswithkookmin · 1 year

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Goldie, for God's sake, answer me just this once. Please, like I told you before, I'm not a shipper and i have a reason why but i can't descussion it here. I'm just Jimin Stan.And all I care about is the comfort of this boy who took my mind called Park Jimin. Just a question if Jikook is real. Why do I feel that Jimin is always unhappy? He complains about loneliness and not getting and making friends. Does one live in illusion only and imagines that he is happy while he is always insinuating and complaining about loneliness and gloom? Don't you understand his feelings through his album? Is it logical that this side appears when you are happy with the one you love, or does the one you love not treat you well?Please, I don't want to accuse anyone, but it seems that Jimin has changed a lot since before He became shrunken in himself and shy too much. Where is the bold and flirtatious Jimin? Something must have happened to him. Something last. Did you read the Weverse magazine article about him because it made me cry so much?

Sigh

Ever heard the saying the higher you go the lonelier you become? Dude literally released an album that addresses his struggles with fame and being in the spotlight- as big as Jungkook's dick is and as sharp as his thrusts are- big dick don't cure everything so let's not lay it on him okay?

I don't know if he's become shrunken in himself and shy when Jungkook has been saying for years Jimin is the most shy member of bts he knows. He is extroverted sure but he's quiet demure and graceful elegant and pretty too. Don't confuse is public persona for his actual persona. He's used to performing his extroversion and playing up his daring character for TV.

Jimin the artist is not the same as Park Jimin the brother, son, friend and human others know and that's what he's been saying for years. So if you ask what happened to the old Jimin I'd say FUCK IT HE'S FINALLY FREE BOTTOMS UP

Like he said, raise a glass to the old him- emphasizes on old. He keeps trying to break loose from old habits and behaviors that hold him back and don't serve him. I'd wager one of such habits was keeping up with his public imagine of constantly being a spectacle.

His duality is part of who he is. We should give him room to express and explore himself without attaching vehemently to our single lensed view of him. There's nothing wrong with him.

But I understand your concern. I used to be like this too. for years he had said bulking up and building his body wasn't his thing. I nearly- well who am I kidding, I had an actual melt down when he started working out and building his body again because I thought he was being coerced into doing it again- turns out he just wanted to look ripped in jeans🥴

Dude was tryna get laid and I was out here cussing hybe out for oppressing him💀

I don't know if he's always unhappy when he's only opening up about his struggles which I think is a good thing for him and his fans. For me it helps me understand him more, empathize with him more and grow more closer to him.

Jimin is not the melancholic type.

The shit he deals with is real. I've heard many western artists complain of similar struggles and some of them are happily married with kids. Relationships are not a magic cure for loneliness especially if the feeling of loneliness IS NOT STEMMING FROM LACK OF HUMAN CONNECTION.

Do you actually thing Park jimin is lonely because he lacks intimacy and human connection? Loneliness is a complex issue and many things can lead to a person feeling this way. For me, I think he's inability to be who he really is was his biggest emotional trigger. He lives in a conformist society surrounded by people who constantly expect maturity and discipline from him, with a fan base that will desert him and unstan him if he says the wrong thing, dates the wrong person or make the move. There's no room for mistakes and that can be pretty dehumanizing.

Social expectations can alienate people and I'm afraid jimin is no exception. And in case you aren't aware, life sucks and hits every body including Jimin.

I don't appreciate you demanding my attention in this way. It makes me feel I have to rush my response so if this feels rushed it's on you🙃

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polyamorousmood · 3 months

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My partner and I have been together for over five years and had talked about being open to polyamory since the beginning. We've been actively polyamorous for almost two years now, and it's getting to the point where I will have to open up about this side of my life to my family and I don't know how to do that without causing possible issues (they can be old fashioned, but aren't like super religious). I would love to hear advise on how to handle this, or hear people's stories about how it went when they shared this with their families. Thank you!

I've never had any reason to tell my family I'm poly, and never will without good reason. But I will throw in my two cents ¢ (which inevitably turns into a dollar 💲).

In no particular order:

You set the tone😨🤹. Don't forget this. You can play it off as kidding if you set it up that way or you can make this a "I am willing to never talk to you again if you're a dick" thing if you set it up that way. You decide if its A Formal Talk or if you're just kissing someone on the cheek and they get to figure out what tf that means or if you're inviting them to celebrate with you.

You control the informationℹ️. Decide what details you'd like for them to know. You can even lie to them about some parts if it will make the conversation go down easier for them. This might sound sleazy, but depending on how much shit you expect them to dish, might be smart.

Tailor your speech to your audience🗣️. Idk your situation, but certain framings will work better for different types of people. Some can come around to the idea with education, others will use more information as more ways to hurt you; some family members may care about your happiness above all and come to accept it through that lens, some may need to understand it, some may be most open to it if they can relate it to a familiar concept, etc. Some want these comversations in private, some will only keep themselves in check from the social pressure of making a scene. You'd know better than I would what that looks like for them.

Starting with the safest/most open person could be a good way to test the waters. If they take it well, you can have someone on your side to tell the others, and if they take it poorly, you can re-evaluate how you want to handle things.

Genie can't go back in the bottle🧞. Once they know, they'll always know. The only way to maybe work around this is to make it out to be "just a phase" and make sure only one partner is ever mentioned to them again. Which means I recommend figuring out your line in the sand for how much BS you're willing to put up from them ahead of time. Its hard to consider what you would do if they took it really badly, but its hedging your bets for a familiar broken heart.

This is a personal preference, but I'm a fan of dropping details casually and when you're going to be leaving soon. Its conflict avoidant. It gives them time to chew on it without you having to be there "did they really mean that? If they did how are our grandchildren going to be raised? They were kidding. But if they weren't--" you get the idea. And they can run through all that and only bother you with the most important questions next time. It seems to me easier on others because they're not sure its true yet. They can toy with what the idea means without all the wight of My Child Is Coming Out To Me, if that makes sense? Will NOT work on everyone, but worth a consider imho.

#ask box is always open

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0coldphantom0 · 2 years

Text

Reasons why they get no bitches: ✨La Squadra edition!✨

Back at it again with some lovely ☺️ personal headcanons for them jojo bois.

Ps.My askbox is open for requests so send me any requests ( make them juicy).If i catch any minor asking for nsfw stuff you will be 🌸blocked 🌸

Risotto:

- Given how the mafia works, i presume theres a certain quota most ppl have to follow as to not get killed or be looked down upon, so him being in a relationship would place him at a disadvantage strategically speaking.

- Not to assume there haven’t been moments where he could’ve gotten bitches.I have a presumption that somewhere down his Passione career one or two unlucky bastards tried to bribe him with promises of pussy in the hopes of living to tell the tale.It didnt work.

- Im a sole believer that if this man was ever pissed off by a woman hed forcefully make her bleed from her cooch istg ( this is a joke.I am joking, please dont come for me i am but a mere idiot)

- “Im on my period” “im aware :)”

- ✨attachment issues✨:/.

- Lacks the ability to turn off his work mode aka will intimidate ppl without wanting to

- Hyper analyses your body language to a point where you can’t decipher whether hes checking u out or planning how big the hole he must dig for your corpse gotta be smh what a turn off

- Socially inept oh whats that a convo needing his opinion thats not related to his work?? * turns invisible*

- Whats that a convo needing his opinion that IS related to his work??? You a cop or smth?Dont ever ask that again

- Many would find his field of work impossible to adapt to, lets for a second imagine living codependently with an absolute felon, this man went to jail for sure.Most people look funny at smokers let alone someone like him.

- Not to mention the utter anxiety he without realising creates.Sure its fun to cause someone to twitch in fear when theyre some dude you gotta off but when youre the one sitting in front of this man and all he does is squint in disapproval, or lowers his tone…it can only cause for some issues.( unless youre into that then sure have fun being on the edge all the time ig )

- He bottles his emotions and denies the extent of his affections, so man probably wont tell you how he feels abt things, and i can bet money that if youre an emotional kinda pal, he’ll disregard your feelings a lot “because how is there something to fix when nothing is broken “ and “deal with it” are his go to.

Pesci:

- *vaguely gestures at his whole design *

- Either examines everything his crush does with a fine comb or the opposite.This can lead to some awkward instances where he either spews out the most incomprehensible gibberish before making a run for it or not hear a single word if you ask him a question, ending up in him forgetting where and what he is doing.

- Got that heavy dose of toxic masculinity and inferior complex all thanks to all the other guys he hangs with ( im looking at you illuso, cheese and ham >:()

- With that being said its safe to assume that most of the time hes also used as the butt of the joke or even as a leeway to the other members in his group to yoink a gal or two due to his gullibility.Hed be the ugly fool whod annoy the wee damsel and in turn lead to someone else “intervening “ ( in short, prosciutto has and will steal any girl pesci likes as means of teaching the boy a “lesson “ which is bullshit,we all know he’s doing if for fun )

- Push over and a half

- Shitty fashion sense

- I dont believe this man has ever fucked.Like, at all.

-bitchboy and a half, i feel like the moment you raise your voice he winces. Go girl give us lack of confidence, im sure thats attractive :/

- am convinced this man knows zero abt girls, to a point where if he held hands with one his brain would implode.

- I do believe he in a way over glorified being part of the mafia similar to Giorno. The big difference between them is that whilst golden boy drank piss to end kids having a meth addiction, My headcanon is that Pesci thought hed be gaining some respect and power by joining the gang, and spitefully be able to rub it in whoever’s face he could.This also means getting bitches- in this moment he fails to acknowledge said bitches are far and few for his organisation ( unless youre counting prostitutes)and the ones who do be, are probably not going to mingle with someone from the hitman team.

Prosciutto:

- smokes like a chimney (when stressed)and prob a big coffee drinker, i cant imagine finding that pleasant when kissing

- Cheapskate for anything that isnt him. He will buy those gucci socks, for himself.Depending on how much worth he places on the “bitches” hell either flaunt money but share none or hand u a generous tip of 5 lire and tell u to get urself someting nice:)

- Has this sense of entitlement worse than illuso, and also a bit of a saviour complex.Sure on the surface it might come off as him being patient and wating to provide for the crush, unfortunately this manifests through him controlling not only what you do but your opinion on any matter too.Should you speak / act out of line, you now have to redeem urself by kissing ass :/

- everything becomes monitored too.Hes basically in the mindset of training this person to be his ideal from the getgo. Isnt that so wonderfull.

- Imagine if your s/o bitched abt everything you do like a strict parent… how hot…😒

- Kinda misogynistic ngl, even by the standarts of then, hes got a very set way of thinking and acting around someone depending on their gender. Now if you happen to be nonbinary, depending on “which side of the scale you lean on” and by that i mean if prosciutto considers you more masc / fem leaning he will treat you as such.neither side is more torelable than the other, hes temperamental as shit.

- Reeks of that toxic masculinity, i can therefore say this man will never show an ounce of vulnerability thats genuine.ever.

- He cares abt his outward appearance to a point where he deadass cant take a joke.Its fine if he picks on how you dress but for someone to do that to him??? No.

- Also has a bit of a substance problem. I headcanon him as enjoying a little bit of that cocaina and some opium from time to time.

Illuso:

- hes just a massive dickhead all year round

- Snoops worse than the rats in your walls ONG

- Zero privacy with this guy, he knows exactly what you’re doing all the time and will use that to pull shitty pranks on you

- He will also use said knowlege to your disadvantage. Cant back out of his dates due to a “tight schedule” because he knows everything you do in a week and should you try to bluff him HE WILL KNOW.Throws a tantrum like no other if you dont wanna hang out with him.

- Will guilttrip you into oblivion.Theres also a chance of him verbally and physically bullying you as means of all the attention to be on him.

- Believes hes a god sent gift to the world.why are you laughing???? Hes hot shit???

- Gaslighting is his middle name. Illuso cant take rejection at all, he cant accept someone he finds attractive to not feel the same about him.

- Narcissistic and a liar. He gives me the vibe of someone who will not tell you anything truthfull about what he does and who he is and thats due to both his workfield scaring off potential “bitches” and because he think no matter the person, theyll try to manipulate him into doing something he doesnt want/ useless to him.

- Possesiveness issues. Hell deny it into oblivion but the apple of his eye is his and his only- his jealousy knows no bounds so should you literally care abt anything or someone else hell turn it into a “its all about illuso” moment.

- Oh , youre getting all dolled up to go out, its for illuso. Reading a book? Youre doing it for him to notice!Shivering because you are cold?? You want him to come and hold you. Mind you theres a 50/50 chance hes applying said thinking to someone who is unaware of his existence.just like Ghiaccio.yikes.

Melone:

- his criminal record

- Depraved mf worse than the guys youd find on 4chan

- The type of guy you never want to own favours to under any circumstances

- he is a noncon enthusiast ,i wont elaborate

- Foot fetish . No.just no. Out of all body parts???? Really??!?!

- Lets not even talk abt his stand we all know they r meant to represent the persons soul…..so his just erm 👁👁

- To add to that, hes a bit of a psychpath, in the sense that as much as he seems eager to jump into someones pants, he lacks in the “human connection “ department.

- Idk man Melone gives me the vibes of an individual who can act normal but thats it, its all an “act”. His affections and speech is very coordinated, almost as if hes running an experiment with the person he finds attractive.You can sense that the persona he give off is not genuine, rather scripted- and it probably is because he fails to understand emotions to begin with.This will make you uncomfortable so kudos to that :(.

- Big time commitment issues. The probability of him seeking out several “bitches” at the same time in the same place is 99% likely and has in the past lead people into a sense of trust and security only to pull back and act like theyre a total stranger.

- His opinion changes like the weather depending on who he talks to. Melone has the ability to agree and disagree about a topic in the same sentence. Sure he can pick up on the topic and be quite informative,as long as its factual information.This can be a bitch to deal with if you ask him anything or are Ghia and wanna vent out your frustrations.

- Will definetly not care about your boundaries. The scary part is hell twist it so that should you try to protest or bring it up, itll fall on deaf ears.

- Got in trouble in the past for slipping drugs into peoples drinks to watch and see what happens for his own entertaintment,including his coworkers outside misions.

- He also wont hesitate to hack any device you use as means to finding blackmail in case you try anything funny.(and take some dna for babyface if he really considers you a nuisance)

Formaggio:

- personal hygiene has left the chat, id be very wary to shaking hands with this mofo becus he does not wash his hands, let alone anything else

- Probably makes very crude jokes at the worse moments in convos

- He also gives me the vibes of that kid in the neighbourhood who killed small animals and set fire to shit for fun.He prob still does this (this is supported by the spider torture scene and the fact that he treat his cat like shit)

- His pickup lines suck ass, you will visibly cringe

- Sneaky bastard, anyone who catches his attention has at some point or another been spooken by his ability to appear at any given moments due to his stand.Good luck trying to hide something from him or talk shit.Will also use his ability to be a complete creep and compliment how you smell of your underwear choice, even if you ,a, never uttered a word to him or ,b, were nowhere close near him…..yeh..

- Hes the one who will kiss ass so much to a point where everything he does and says ends up making him look slightly unhinged and desperate.Not below straight up pestering you until you finally agree to something ( sex or doing what he wants)

- He sure talks an awaful lot but thats about it. The old bark and no bite kinda deal. He will take you out to expensive dinner he says and then he takes you to the cheapest bar he can get drunk at, only to make you stop bringing his promises up again.Will act a stranger to your dissatisfaction!

- A bit of a leech. Hes known to have broken into his crushes house to “borrow something”, yes your valubles and underwear are gone.

- Good luck living with him because he doesnt pick up after himself at all.He makes the kitchen and bathroom a health hazard AND doesnt flush the toilet either.

- Another one with trust issues. Because hes a nuisance and a bit insecure ( but to lazy to put in the effort) hes bound to blame other people for things he does and will be very quick to accuse a person of not being faithful, even if theres zero evidence.Rebutting this will be hard and he can only be shot down by doing what he wants, and apologising even if you did nothing wrong.

- Hates being given the cold shoulder and will call you every name in the book if you dont stop.

- Will act clueless when things get hectic and only apologise after theres no chance of fixing it. “Sorry about the toaster bbygorl dw ill buy you another”. He wont, but will get mad about not getting to enjoy toast at your place anymore.

- Like Illuso he can be a bully. Will mock and pick on you to get a rise outta you and to make his teammates laugh. He will pretend like nothing is wrong AND get butthurt if you pull away from him when he wants a kiss.

Ghiaccio:

- ……… where do i start

- That scowl alone is enough honestly

- Hes got the posture of a shrimp, so fine so curved ( bitch me too) and its all because of his laptop use.

- I can see him try to impress someone by bitching abt something to appear smart but it ends up in a one way convo, even if you try to join in he cuts you off or talks over you

- Overly cocky . I applaud his determination to be the best™️ in everything he does- heres the problem, no body likes a smartass with a temperament aqute to that of a Tasmanian devil.

- Assumes things about his potential love interest but never actually asks whether or not said presumptions are true or false. And he never will, unless you spell it out for him due to his inability to admit he could ever be wrong about what their fav activities are, after all HE picked this person and HE knows best.

- He believes he can read a person to filth. Sure that may be true regarding anything to do with his work aka body language and weaknesses- but that doesn’t necessarily apply to personal stuff sooo….

- Issues with control. Ghiaccio will always have the upper hand in his relationship or so help whoever happens to be the closest to him.Genuinely cant envision this man feeling comfortable if the crush happens to be a bit more on the independent side of tings.As much as hed love a debate buddy hed rather you just agree with him so he can get to his point.

- And the funny part is that he’s probably a big hypocrite with that too.Ah the double standard of having to please a man who cant admit anyone being better than him yet at the same time wants somebody who he can swing about like a trophy and tell the rest of his teammates that they can shove it up their ass cuz “hes got the hottest bitch, and it wasn’t by means of money or threatening, its because hes JUST SO DAMN BETTER THAN EVERYONE ELSE”

- Ghiaccio’s keen eye and expertise in the how “to get bitches “ means he’s already on his third honeymoon with the love of his life who can only be so happy they get to fuck him and be tolerated by him and ooo theyre in the bedroom and-

- Have I mentioned this process of thinking is taking place whilst lurking and stalking the person rather than being a normal human being and just go and have a chat? Oh I haven’t? It’s probably because the ice gremlin has gone a few steps ahead of his plan but forgot to actually touch base with said person and is instead intently staring at them like a maniac without blinking.From across the room.Even Melone is throwing him side glances.

-Physical touch. Has a habit of being grabby should the crush show a smidge of interest in him.Ice boy will take every opportunity to have some part of him touching the person, annoyingly so, because he himself is touched starved.Dont try to reciprocate said touch unless you’re planning to be smothered consistently by his advances.If you’re thinking its soft uwu touches you’re very wrong. His composure makes it seem like he’s challenging you to a fight more than asking to snuggle.Very anxiety inducing and rather hard to get out of his grip once he has you.

- Lord forbid his target is talking to another person he deems a threat because hes prone to start fights and has ended many with plenty of people having a trip to the ER

- he drives with pure unadulterated malice and will curve swerve every chance he gets so any bitch he does get will definitely end up with severe nausea and promptly make an exit turn the moment they get out the car.

Sorbet and Gelato:

-Deadass, if they’re seeking anyone, that person will go missing.

- They have each other, thats facts, they are the bitches, the gay bitches.good for them

-I dont think anyone is capable of dealing with these two because all they care about is money and violence, anything else is considered unnecessary and a waste of time.

- Any “bitches” desiring their affections will be shot down on the spot, with a gun.Most likely by Gelato because hes a very possessive and jealous mf.Sorbet is very aware of this and unless hes bored and wants to see some discourse, he will be very unapproachable to a point where you have to be void of any fight or flight instinct to get close.

-Theyre a couple with a lack of care to anyone who doesn’t provide them with money, entertainment or drugs and the only affection they show is to one another.Any unlucky soul who somehow ended up in their bedroom will die miserably.

-Sadists with a capital ,s, if theyre down to be part of the hitman team for financial gain do you honestly believe they have any consideration for peoples lives, let alone their feelings???? Yeah no.

-Dont you also find it quite interesting that they were the first of the squadra to go?? Like for a second there sure, “it’s because they tried to get information” on diavolo, but I also have a feeling they could’ve been a genuine threat to the boss.I like to believe that if they didnt get offed so quickly, the way the squadra organised their traitor plans would’ve probably earned more damage to the Passione’s business than even Bruno’s team.

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stinkyme · 3 months

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What happened like in general? of course don’t feel pressured to answer this or pay any type of attention to it but like are you okay?

Hope everything is well

I mean there are no obligations to tumblr nor should bloggers be harassed because people believe they have obligations to them, but that raises the questions should people even worry about bloggers with out sounding like it’s some parasocial behavior idk maybe, like I’m worried for you because your one of those blog I keep coming back to because it brightens my day but then again is it weird to be brought to such emotions by a tumblr blog in the grand scheme of things

Sorry stinky idk what this is about,

Maybe you leave had been about involving actual real life worries or just simply wanting to take break but I shouldent care because it has nothing to do with me but I do hope you feel better no matter how strange that sounds

hello dear! i am very grateful for you checking up on me and I am so-so. I do have personal worries all the time as we all do, pretty much but that's not the sole reason of me sort of leaving.

I hope that you will forgive me for using your ask to say certain things, but alas, I am mostly staying off tumblr because it became a shitshow and there are certain opinions I am unable to voice because it will cause more issues and discussions and I highly dislike being in places where I feel like I can't be honest or open, nor is my desire to arise issues/discourses unless it's a must.

There is a lot of mean energy flowing left and right which I highly dislike, there is a lot of hypocritical takes and there is a lot of miscommunication and it feels like high school all over again.

I personally dislike seeing how certain stuff are being handled and how certain people are threw into fire of things that aren't their fault and that can be explained/communicated. I had my own doubts about certain things, to be completely honest, I also knew something like this will happen for quite some time simply because of the things I noticed a while ago. I don't want to seem like I am subposting, so I would rather come more clear about my intention.

I didn't speak up about Flora specifically because I wanted to communicate with her personally about the whole thing. I think communicating one on one is more beneficial when forming opinions and getting actual insight about the situation. However, it didn't unravel that way, so all I can say is that, from my own feelings and my own perspective, the only reason why Flora got dragged was due to personal feelings of one or multiple individuals and not the actual issue of her doing something wrong. I dislike that. I can't vouch for anything to be 100% correct or wrong, but that's how I feel.

Anyways, the whole Ezra thing also threw me off. I have never communicated with him personally, but seeing something like that was certainly icky and very disturbing given the contents of the fanart. Now, we can discuss fictional and non-fictional engagement in certain things and how they differ. I see a lot of people explaining how stuff being fictional makes it okay. I disagree with that. Nothing in this world is black and white, nothing is completely separated from the other. But, again, if I were to voice my opinion about it, people would probably spam my ask box again and leave very questionable stuff in there. And again, this is not me bashing DC, as I spoke before, there is a cause and a reason and a point in everything. Depending on those, we can judge is something an actual dc or a simple fetishization and sexualization of certain things.

So, for the sake of my own peace, all I can say is that I am staying off of tumblr for the most part because it doesn't make me happy anymore and it's not enjoyable to witness a lot of things. It's gotten pretty wild and it makes me irritated on a lot of levels, so I do apologize for that

#stinkyanswers

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apas-95 · 9 months

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i know it makes you feel good to take cheap potshots at me by misinterpreting what i said, but obviously “trans woman” as a category has to mean *something*, the point isn’t to say “cis people can be trans” which is false by definition, the point is that that’s about as far as you can get in terms of defining transness (i.e. not cis) until being forced to either

A) leave it at “to be trans is to identify as trans” which is exactly what ur seemingly railing against

B) “to be trans is to be identified as trans” which immediately raises the question of who and where, are transmascs that get clocked as transwomen actually transwomen? are cis gays that get clocked as trans actually trans even if they dont identify that way

C) “to be trans is to have xyz characteristics” which raises the question of who defines said characteristics, is there a consistent social definition, etc that ultimately gets tangled up with B

with B and C you open yourself up to really unfavorable positions (e.g., the whole concept of truscum/transmedicalism hinges on C, to be trans is to have dysphoria and/or medically transition.)

I'm not rallying for or against any of these positions, because they are positions on an issue unrelated to what I'm arguing - that the definition of being trans is to have a specific social relationship towards the axis of transphobia. How exactly one comes to have that position is immaterial to that.

Really, the position being stated is just the direct logical corrolary to 'all trans people experience transphobia', a generally accepted and uncontroversial statement. If all trans people by definition experience transphobia (and all cis people do not), then, re-stating, being trans is a group defined by experiencing transphobia. The thing that makes someone experience transphobia is unrelated to this issue. It does not matter, to this definition, what the mechanism by which people do or do not experience transphobia is. I am making zero statement on what makes people trans, no prescription of how any individual trans person must feel or understand their own transness, only a description of what transness is, for those that possess it. Regardless of any individual conceptions towards their own trans existence, it is social fact that being trans is the state of experiencing transphobia (in whatever form that may come), because without transphobia, without the existence of gender assignment at birth, being trans ceases to be a meaningful concept - the exact same reason we understand that labelling historic persons as 'gay' or 'transgender' in contexts where those socio-historically-specific concepts can be applied. Should society move past gender assignment at birth, 'being trans' as a meaningful social characteristic would cease to exist, and though people could still identify with the historic concept, they would not meaningfully be trans people in the social sense as it applies in our, current, society.

Personally, my position on how people come to be trans, which I again must say, is unrelated to the discussion at hand, is functionally, yes, that 'identifiying as being trans makes you experience transphobia', which is to say closeted trans people still suffer from transphobia, that passing trans people still suffer from transphobia, etc. In more direct relation to the point actually being argued, is that 'misdirected' oppression categorically does not exist - that regardless of the specific form any instance of oppression takes, regardless of what the person enacting that oppression personally believes, it only exists as a certain type of oppression in as much as it is harmful towards a given group - someone yelling transmisognyistic insults at a transmasc person is not enacting transmisogyny against the transmasc person, they are enacting transphobia against them; while the people being harmed by the specifically-transmisogynistic element of these insults are trans women, the effect of verbally assaulting a transgender person is transphobic oppression, regardless of any opinion the person assaulting them had on the matter.

These are, again, positions independent of what actually makes any individual come to be a member of a given group. They are a separate explanation of what being in that group means. They are positions about social groups, not about individuals.

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scribble-dribble-writes · 2 years

Text

Golden

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Pairing: Obi wan x reader

Contents: Obi wan loses his mullet 😏

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2000

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It was a sunny day in Coruscant and one without any war troubles. So you could say that it was an ideal day to take a day off and relax in an open balcony with a cold drink. Which was precisely what you were doing. You were lounging on your sunbed with a fresh batch of refreshments that your droid off loaded onto the nearby table, every sip of sweet, tart and citrus tanginess perfectly tied everything together. But it only seemed to last so long before the sound of bickering came from your hallway. Your protocol droid in a heated argument with how the unexpected guests had barged in. “Its obvious you have to retire it. You’ve had it for a long time, now it’s my turn.”, Anakin was voicing his opinion. “We both can have the same hairstyle, it took me a while to grow it out.”, you instantly knew the other.

You slide down your coolers to look back at your arriving guests. Clad in a crop top and a pair of shorts you were dressed to match the summer feeling. “There she is. We’ve been searching for you everywhere.”, Anakin sounded annoyed and you hide behind the latest issue of Coruscant times. Today was supposed to be only for you. “I’m sure it wasn’t anything important.”, you respond nonchalantly. “Important? It’s an emergency.”, Obi wan juts in and you fold the corner of your magazine to look at him but he seemed to be preoccupied with looking at your exposed legs. “Emergency?”, you glanced between both of them. They seemed to be in clean clothes and in one piece, so what could this emergency be about?

“I want to have a cool mullet, I’ve been sick of that Padawan braid. Now he insists that he won’t give it up.”, Anakin spoke heatedly. “Can’t you both sport the same look? You are like brothers aren’t you?”, you smirk and see the visible frustration on his face while the other seemed to be in support of your reason. “Exactly what I told him.”, Obi wan chimed and it only pushed Anakin further into a frenzy. “Do you know what’s more embarrassing than having to have the same hairstyle as your Master? Nothing. He needs to give it up.”, He spoke with his hands, it was clear he was upset. You heave a sigh. “Now why am I involved in this?”, you raise your question and Obi wan fiddled with his fingers. “You need to convince him. He values your opinion of him highly. Only you can sway him on this matter.”, Anakin rambled and you hum.

“Obi wan, you can pull off any look, let your Padawan have the hair of his dreams. Now I’ve got much more important things to get to.”, you turn your attention to your magazine again.

“Great, then I’ll leave him with you.”, Anakin turns to leave. “Leave. Him. With. Me?”, you close your magazine, giving them your full attention. “He doesn’t want the droids to cut his hair. He doesn’t trust me with them either. He said if he were to go through with it, it would have to be you.”, Anakin explains but you turn your attention to the smug looking Jedi who stood next to him. “Now get to it before he changes his mind.”, Anakin says before storming off.

You stand in a tension filled silence. “You just wanted to spoil my day, didn’t you?”, you ask him sucking on your teeth. “Maybe.”, he smiles and you couldn’t help but smile as well. “Can’t you go to the hairdresser?”, you fold your arms. He shakes his head. “Where’s the fun in that? I won’t get to pester you.”, he hides his smile by turning away. “Go wet your hair, I’ll get the scissors.”, you chuckle as you get up to retrieve the things you’ll need while he headed to your bathroom.

You were back in the balcony sitting on the floor in the shade, with all your supplies next to you, only that you were missing your client. The bathroom door opened and you turned to see him, “What took you so long – but you forgot the rest of your question. His blonde hair now a dark hazy brown dripping wet, he walked out shirtless with only his pants on. “Sorry, I turned on the wrong faucet.”, he stated while you were distracted by his muscles, well defined gleaming with moist skin. You looked away, your cheeks growing warm not because they were exposed to the sun. He pushed back his wet strands dropping his robes on a chair as he headed to the balcony. Suddenly this didn’t seem like a good idea. You’d have to get close to him while he was in that state.

So you try composing yourself. He took a seat on the warm terracotta tiles in front of you. “I said wet them, not drench them.”, you throw a towel over his head to dry his hair a bit. He leaned back till his head rested on your shoulder, half his face hidden under the towel with only his lips exposed. “I’m beginning to enjoy this.”, he said and you pushed him away, as he laughed from under the fabric pulling it away.

“Now what do you have in mind?”, You asked and he stroked his beard, his chiseled back exposed to you, making your finger itch to write your name between his shoulders. This is why you actively chose to stay away from him and yet here he was, somehow making your day in the sun better with his presence. “I trust you will do a good job.”, he replied and you brought out your magazine. “Alright then help me envision it.”, you sit side by side with him, opening the book to show various models. “Hmm.”, his ocean eyes scanned the images before turning to you. “Which look do you like?”, he questioned turning to you, your arm brushing against his. “This one.”, you pointed at a guy who had long hair in the front which then got shorter in the back. “Alright then that one.”, he shrugged his shoulders.

“Are you ready?”, you asked to which he nodded. Placing your hands on either side of his cheek to stabilize his head, you brought out the scissors. You grab a bunch of his hair between your fingers. The golden strands gleaming under the sunlight, soft like silk to the touch. You hesitated. “Just do it.”, he replied sensing your thoughts, his hands balled into fists. The things he had to do to satisfy his Padawan. But he trusted you, with his life and his hair.

You cut and watch as the strands fall to the ground. This man’s hair was made of glitter, the cut pieces of hair catching the light as they fell. Golden. There was no turning back now. You cut the excess hair in the back and level it out. Then you work through the sections you had parted before. He sat still, almost like he was meditating. But he was trying to stay calm. He only felt your touch, your fingers in his hair, your arm grazing his and your exposed belly resting on his lower back every time you leaned in.

You worked the sides, ruffling his hair to see how they fell. Now you only had to finish the front. So you moved to sit in front of him. You level his head to look at you and you catch a glimpse of his eyes. Golden and blue, your favorite combination. You had forgotten that your hands rested on the sides of his face. His eyelashes curling at the ends. He was breathtaking. You clear your throat and look away.

He folded his arms out of fear that he might lose control, that no matter the years of Jedi training, around you he seemed to forget all of it. The sun giving you a warm glow, your dark hair turning chocolate brown, the curves of your waist begging him to reach out and your legs so long they could wrap around him. He looked into your eyes, he had to focus but even there, it was those dark pools that made him want to get lost further.

You measure the length of his bangs, to the start of his eyes and cut them, dusting off the hair that fell over his nose. As you brushed over his cheeks with your pinky finger, you took notice of his faint freckles that were beginning to appear because of his time in the sun. You had to remind yourself of the task at hand. You ruffle his hair once again and feel satisfied with your work. “I’m afraid you’re Padawan is going to be disappointed.”, he looked up at you, confused. “How so?”, he asked. “You look absolutely dashing.”, you say as you push his bangs into place. “All your handiwork.”, he gets up, dusting of his shoulder, and you wanted to tattoo the shape of your lips over his collar bone.

A feeling gripped your heart, you didn’t want him to leave, you didn’t want anyone else to see him yet. In this second, he was only yours to marvel. You pushed him towards the bathroom mirror, your palms resting over his soft skin. His eyes widened in surprise. “Wow.”, he whispered. “You like it?”, you ask nervous. “Yes.”, he turned to you his gaze falling to your lips. You walk away to the hall. “Now go, share your beauty with the world.”, you said dramatically flailing your arms but he caught your wrist. “They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. So I can’t share it with anyone else but you.”, he was following his thoughts, all of them were about you.

He pulled you in and you wrapped your hands around his neck, your fingers fiddling with the short hair near the end of his neck. “Thank you.”, he said his hands resting on your waist. “Now where’s my payment?”, you ask your mouth tipping up in a smirk. “What forms of credit do you accept?”, he asks leaning close. “Republic credits usually but in this case, only kisses I’m afraid.”, you answer and he laughs closing the gap. Soft at first but then it deepened, he held a hidden passion beneath all that, his hair falling forward and touching your forehead. His breath short and warm against your face. His hands dropping low as he pulled you up, getting you to wrap your legs around his waist. “Anakin will be here any minute.”, you speak in between his kisses. “He sneaks around often. Now it’s my turn.”, he replies kissing your cheek, your hands holding his face when you both hear a knock on the door. You kiss his forehead. “That must be him.”, You laugh as he puts you down gently. “I need to teach him a thing or two about timing.”, He sighed as you dropped his robes into his hands. “I’ll answer the door, you get changed.”, you instruct him.

You let Anakin in and Obi wan joins you both in the hall. “Not bad.”, he smiles as he sees his Master. “You were right to trust her.”, Anakin folds his arms. “You’re going to be famous among the ladies.”, he snickered and it pricked you. Obi wan was never yours, so you weren't supposed to feel this way and yet you did. You put away the scissors and look up to see his gaze already focused on you. “Well they’re going to be let down.”, he shuffled his feet and Anakin donned a confused expression. “Why?”, he asked. “Like any work of art my allegiance lies only with my artist.”, his eyes found yours before turning their attention to his Padawan, so that he didn’t give anything away. “Some times Obi wan I don’t understand what you say.”, Anakin huffed. “Its all for the best.”, Obi wan clasped Anakin’s shoulder.

You held the door open and Anakin marched ahead, Obi wan was on his way of following him out when he stopped to see you. His arm curling around your waist to pull you closer. He caught your lips with his as a way to say goodbye, hidden behind the door. “Are you coming, Obi wan?”, Anakin rushed him. You heard him huff in annoyance. “I’m going to teach him a lesson this very second.”, he straightened and walked out but his finger traced across the width of your waist as his hand retreated with him as you closed the door with a soft click.

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