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tteokdoroki · 7 months

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ೀ⋆OCT 3RD MEAN GIRLS ━━ katsuki bakugou + free use !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. katsuki bakugou + free use. on october third, he asked you what day it was. btw, in girl world, halloween is the only time of the year when katsuki bakugou can slut girls out and no one can say anything about it. boo, you whore! (4.9K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, characters aged up to 20s, college!au, free use, dub-con, cum-play, voyeurism, humiliation, manipulation, dacryphilia, no prep, public sex(ish), unprotected sex, suprise guest appearance from shouto as aaron samuels, fem!reader, reigina george coded!bakugou.

୨୧ — director’s note. "it's october third." and you know what that means! another nasty kinktober fic for you all! i hope you enjoy this one, its probably my favourite...because uh hello!? reigina george and bakugou? name a more iconic duo! anyways enjoy mwah! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

halloween is the only time of the year where anyone can dress like a slut and not get called one for it.

in the world of the conventionally attractive (or the plastics), the kings and queens of the social jungle, it means ditching the guts and gore in favour of skin tight lingerie with a little fake blood that drips calculatedly through the valley between your breasts — just for a little bit of added attention. it’s the one night of the year where self-objectification becomes acceptable, and you by all means, were not planning on missing out.

for you, a well spent Halloween consisted of tooth rotting candy corn, bad movies and trying to avoid the feeling of fomo (fear of missing out, fyi) building up like fluid in the lungs of a sick person. you’ve been an a-grade loser all your life and you’ve never had the chance to experience a proper friend group, high school, (and now) college experience.

however this year would be different. this year you would be ditching loser-ville for boobs and bunny ears and the shortest dress you could find. because you finally had a friendship group who did these kinds of things and you had an invite to the biggest festive rager hosted by the hottest guy on campus — shouto todoroki.

the rest of your friend group, the college renowned plastics, had warned you not to get involved with the half and half campus jock. he already had relations to your beloved ring leader, katsuki bakugou, and your involvement would be breaking several laws of girl and guy code — according to dumb blonde kaminari (he swears he has ESPN or something). katsuki was the head of U.A. university, ruling over the entire student body with an iron fist, an attitude so mean you’re sure you’ve seen professors cry and a glare so sinister he could turn milk sour if he tried hard enough.

bakugou was the definition of the picture perfect guy and he knew it. it was almost as if his face had been ripped straight from a vogue magazine, his shoulders broad, waist slutty and tiny, abs to die for too — you’d be a liar to say you hadn’t thought about him a few times before bed. katsuki was a king bee (if bees could even have kings) and you were a nobody lucky enough to have been indoctrinated into his group of flawless friends — taken under the guidance of his wing.

your own friends had told you not to fall for the glitz and the glamour that seemed to follow the barbie blonde everywhere he went. but you couldn’t help it, you were enamoured by everything that katsuki did — turned a blind eye to his bitchy persona and twisted mindset. you hardly believed the rumours about him, blissfully ignoring the truth behind the gossip because katsuki was nice to you. just the other night he had been kind enough to offer his help in setting you up with shouto. even if kirishima had tattle told on you.

regardless, katsuki had your back — you knew that. he was even talking to shouto right now, admist the full swing of the halloween party. how could anyone ever hate bakugou? he was so kind, so considerate, treating you like family from the moment you got here. you see shouto look your way fondly as they chatter about you, his lips curling perfectly around your name while he sends you a wave that makes you feel like the only girl in the world.

“she likes you, yanno.” the shorter blonde purrs, the corner of his perfectly plump lips twitching up into a knowing grin. he says your name, glowering at the way his ex perks up at the mention.

shouto blinks slow, mismatched eyes filling with affection the longer he looks at you awkwardly swaying to music you’ve never heard before. “yeah? she does?”

“it’s adorable, really. she writes your fuckin’ name in the corner of her notes with little hearts. even has the name of your future brats written in a cute little list.” the lie slips from bakugou easily, as if manipulating people is second nature to him.

“don’t bother with that, katsuki.”

when todoroki’s gaze on you lingers for too long, he kicks it up a notch pressing the head of his body into his ex’s side. “listen, half ‘n half,” with his eyes dark and sensual, the blonde allows his voice to slip into deeper, more mocking tones — playing up this innocent act. one that shouto falls for every time. “i know that she can be a little fuckin’ weird but, she’s my friend…so be nice, yeah?”

men are such fickle creatures — for all it takes is a pair of sweltering, red puppy dog eyes to drag the jock under his spell. shouto nods slowly, his own topaz and granite eyes glossing over with some form of obedience, a loyalty to bakugou that no one else would understand. “yeah, alright.”

“good,” bakugou purrs, the sound causing his brain to short circuit. “such’a good friend, half ‘n half.” the tail end of his words are replaced by the sloppy sound effect of his lips on shouto’s, tongues beginning to clash and hands possessively gripping waists.

your rose-tinted window shatters at the sight.

background conversation falls away as your friend and your crush begin to make out right in front of your fucking eyes. “you know who’s looking fine tonight, neito monoma.” kaminari squeals, shimmying in his little mouse costume.

“denki, that’s your cousin.” kirishima frowns.

the blonde shrugs. “yeah! but he’s my first cousin…that’s not right is it,”

you don’t have time to dwell on their chit chat — you feel like someone has thrown your entire body out of whack. you feel like you’re drowning as the realisation hits, katsuki bakugou doesn’t give a shit about you or your feelings. storming away from the scene, you make for the nearest bedroom, hurt and confusion swirling around in the tightness of your chest.

“what are you doin’ in here sweetness? ‘minari and kirishima have been looking everywhere for ya.”

you’re still crying like a sore loser when the king of the plastics finds you hauled up in one of shouto’s many rooms. and you hate that it’s katsuki who’s come to comfort you, sitting beside you on the queen sized bed as his hand slips over your bare thigh.

but you shrug him off, barely keeping your cool. after all, you’re still mad at him for making out with your crush. “don’t touch me, katsuki.” you snarl, doing your best to sound menacing. “i saw what you did. how could you? i thought we were friends?”

he clicks his tongue, ruby red eyes rolling as if he gives a fuck. “oh, you mean that thing with icyhot?” you don’t understand how the blonde can be so nonchalant, tossing around the situation as if it weighs nothing — costing not an ounce of your feelings. “he came onto me, sweetness. i’d never do somethin’ like that to you.”

denying katsuki bakugou is never an easy feat, he’s a man that knows where his strengths lie. in the deep timber of his rumbling voice and those eyes, with the blood lust curled around each of his pupils. katsuki is a well trained hunter, and on this occasion, you are his prey. a large hand smooths over the meaty swell of your trembling thigh, pushing the likely pair wide open for him to make room between them. “i’m a good friend, r’member?”

his hands roam your blistering hot body, gripping and grabbing at your flesh from over your costume — it feels good, you feel wanted and melt like a lump of butter in a pan at every cascading touch of his.

you’d be smart to come to your senses, before you’re snapped up in the unrelenting jaws of a hunter. but you’re entranced by those insanely red eyes, the perfect slant to his lips and all-knowing smile — it’d be useless to escape when you’ve fallen this deep. “you’re not…” your bottom lip wobbles, the achy feeling in your chest now submissive to the liquid lust katsuki has spent months conditioning you to feel. “you’re a bad friend.”

“d’aw…you don’t think i am?” dropping his tone into a sultry coo, bakugou leans in real close and you instinctively follow the tilt of his head. he looms over you, just enough so that you can see the smear of pink eyeshadow across his eyelids, the plasticky glisten of lip gloss masking the true colour of his plump lips, along with the spark of lust swirling through the brown flecks in his eyes.

you shake your head no. “no, you’re not.” big mistake.

the of temperature of the room rises just from his proximity and you find yourself willing to let the king of the plastics swallow you whole. “i don’t think i like the way yer talkin’ to me, sweets.” he growls darkly and in warning. “i should make you apologise for bein’ so fuckin’ mean.”

his breath is warm and wet against your cheek, grip rough on your waist and you can’t help but think how mean he is to you. katsuki gaslights you like it’s second nature or another one of his five senses, manipulates you with ease, putting himself on you when you know you can’t say no. because without him you would have been in social suicide, you wouldn’t have any friends, you wouldn’t have had the college experience. you would have just been ordinary.

“gimme a kiss, gorgeous.” the blonde bites down on your lower tip, tugging it away from you because he misses the metallic taste of golden blood on you — the taste of blossoming obedience in your bloodstream.

you push back, but it’s no use — bakugou’s closing the gap before your brain can even catch up, fizzing like candied pop rocks while you sink further into debauchery.

“c’mon…” he forces his tongue past the seams of your lips, bursting through with only the darkest of intentions. you briefly seize up, because your body knows this isn’t what you want, at least not 100%. but katsuki knows how to work stubborn, prude little things like you — squeezing down on your waist heartily as he leads you into a stupid-drunk kiss. “that’s it, there we go…good fuckin’ girl.”

the world tilts on its axis and you grow lightheaded at the blonde’s praise — you should be mad at him for kissing your crush but at the same time, you’ve never wanted someone so bad. mewling against his watermelon and alcohol flavoured lips is like sealing your fate, giving up little pieces of yourself just to appease your ring leader.

“katsuki, i don’t—“

his thumb digs into your cheeks, preventing you from pulling away — not that you’d want to. wet sounds from your kisses vibrate through you and cause a twinge in the heartbeat between your thighs. “i wasn’t askin’, i was tellin’.” he grunts into your drooling mouth, wide open to echo your sweet and pliant voice. it’s with those words that you remember your place, being a plastic requires sacrifices — for you to give up pieces of yourself in order to stay by katsuki’s side.

including letting him use your mind, body and soul freely.

“so fuckin’ pretty when you’re obedient for me,” he’s snarls, hot under the collar and eager to steal more from you. he grins at how your eyes roll back just from a couple of half-hearted words. leaning back, katsuki shrugs off his shirt, revealing his perfectly carved hips and washboard abs, golden skin that only the gods could have blessed him with. the sight of him is enough to make your quivering cunt deep juices into the crotch of your panties. “let’s get back at sho, huh? for playin’ us both.”

the lines of morality and dissoluteness are often blurred when you’re with him — you become a vessel for his pleasure and you don’t even think to mind. somewhere amidst the messy, sensual lip locks bated breaths, katsuki has managed to get you onto your back and tear through your skimpy little halloween costume to suck his claim into your neck. painting you with deep mauve and midnight blue hues. his eyes dilate, roaring obsidian black taking over his mean, rage filled red eyes in a way that lets you know how bad he wants to fuck you.

it’s when the sharp edges of his canines graze your pulse point that you remember just how much of a wild jungle college is. you remember that katsuki has the ability to make your life a living hell, the power to take a bite and rip your throat out at any second. in this world, you are nothing but a meek gazelle and katsuki bakugou the lion ready for a feast.

irrespective of how much the very fact may frighten you, you ignore bakugou’s talons as they sink into your chest and leave indented crescent moons on against each breast. he rips apart the costume you worked so hard on and pushes your hands away from your body when you attempt to cover yourself up. so, from that moment, you let lust slither over your brain so you can arch yourself into him for more pleasure, and remind yourself that even if you're being used — it feels good. katsuki feels good.

you like that he’s a little mean, a mean girl. all teeth and tongue and biting when he licks into you and breaks the strings of honey saliva that tie your tongue to the roof of your mouth. you love how he roughly grabs you by the meat at your hips and tugs you up to meet the grind of his cock against your underwear. you adore how he pulls the very fabric apart like they’re nothing, rolling you onto your stomach and positioning your hips in a way that makes your back arch.

you don’t even realised that bakugou has kicked off the lower part of his costume until you feel the heat of his firm thighs against the backs of your own and the sticky tap of his flushed cockhead on your ass cheeks — smearing white globs of precum over your hot skin. the blonde groans at the visible twitch of your cunt, the way it glistens and spews lightly for him.

“oh sweetheart,” he laughs through the coagulated feeling of prurience in his throat. “so fuckin’ wet for me, hah?” he manages, spreading your ass cheeks apart hungrily, a curious finger running through your slick folds and dragging your wetness over your pulsating clit. “s’kinda embarrassing. barely even touched you.”

the situation is embarrassing, humiliating almost and a fresh set of tears burn at your waterline — mascaras already tracking down your cheeks. you don’t fight bakugou as a muscled arm snakes it’s way around your waist and pulls you onto him until your sex is flush against bakugou’s thick cock — your hearts beating in sync, heavy breathing in tune. his dripping dick slips and slides a through your quivering pussy lips, grinding against the pulse in your clit before easing the mushroomed tip through the tight ring at your entrance.

“f-fuck!” you squeak, a little out of turn. fuckdolls don’t talk. katsuki is quick to growl and remind you, collapsing his entire weight into your body while you take him with ease. no prep required whatsoever. there’s a delicious burn as his girth stretches you wide open and he fucks you with just the tip — a pleasing buzz layering itself over your logical thoughts. the ones that tell you this isn’t right. the ones that tell you that you’re more than just a plastic play thing.

bakugou squeezes your hips harshly when you push back onto him, desperate to be fed more of his cock. “keep fuckin’ still, alright?” the king of the plastics rasps, taunting you as he thrusts all the way into your tight heat with no warning. you ooze at the sudden stimulation, basking in the weight of his dick against the insides of your crying cunt and fluttering walls. “sho’s gonna love this, maybe he’ll really want you then.” he continues to purr, jamming a thumb past your swollen lips to press down on your tongue. his other hand grasps at his phone once lost in the sheets, talking a picture of your teary face while you suck on his digit to soothe yourself.

like a baby sucking on a pacifier as it cries.

sending the photo to shouto, bakugou takes a few more selfies of you like this. his favourite is the one of your face squished between his large fingers, covered in salty tears and sticky drool. “don’t cry sweets. ‘m gonna fix this, help you get together. what are friends for?”

his voice is soft, nose nudging against your cheek in a reassuring manner.

but it’s all too good to be true.

briefly, there’s a second where everything is calm, where the blonde lets you relax around him between gentle juts of his hips forward and affectionate kisses peppered against your skin. you should have realised that katsuki’s pleasure is always above your own. because he suddenly finds the motivation to pull out of your snug, sensual heat to pound into you properly, dragging is seedy cock along all of the spots along your ribbed walls that make you see stars.

you feel like a pocket pussy, only one that comes with crybaby wails and pitiful hiccuped noises. it’s all music to katsuki’s ears, blending seamlessly with the intense base from the party’s music and thump of the headboard smashing against the wall all from the sheer force of his thrusts into you. it’s easy to forget how humiliatingly loud you’re being, you can’t find yourself to be worried about someone catching you either. even if the door is wide open.

why not? because katsuki claims you willingly, over and over again with each brutish brush of his leaky cockhead against your g-spot. “s-suki! please.” you slur around his fingers that fuck your drooling mouth in perfect rhythm with his dick that plunged in and out of your puckered, creamy hole.

“yeah, yeah. i gotcha. give into me, sweetness.”

where he had been keeping you pinned against the sex-soaked cheeks — bakugou pulls his sweaty chest away from your back and adjusts the roll of his hips, letting them crash into you like waves on a shoreline. to support his body weight above you, his toned arms cage you in, head tilted to the side to watch you sniffle on his dick, red rimming your watery eyeline. “you’re so fuckin’ pretty when you cry, sweetheart.” he moans condescendingly against the shell of your ear, painting a chaste kiss against your wet cheek. “what a pretty fuckin’ girl, suckin’ me in… takin’ my cock. oh fuck.”

if you could see him, will yourself from the pillows you take purchase in and use to muffle your salacious screams — you would notice how an evil smirk as spread across the blonde’s lips while he ravages you, fucks you beyond the stars and back. “you my pretty girl, yeah? fuckin’ sweet thing.” the praise has you spiralling and simultaneously soothes the burning hatred you have for katsuki in your chest. “why you cryin’ so much? is it over him, or over me?”

the answer to his question slips out of you faster than your sex-crazed brain can catch up. “o-over you!” it’s like you can’t even think for yourself, make any choices for your body outside of what bakugou has planned for you. you’d do anything to please him so that he keeps fucking you, so that you can forget your feelings and keep your place amongst the socially elite. maybe that makes you selfish, maybe it makes you dumb — that you’re a whore for katsuki’s bully cock that churns up your guts and uses you for ecstasy filled relief.

“y-yeah? mmhm, just like that baby,” katsuki stutters, licking his lips while you throw it back on him. the weak snap of his voice (caused by you clenching down on him) has you gushing nastily down bakugou’s length. bathing him in your juices, dripping down his balls as they clap against your ass, and swing against your clit.

“yeah…yeah…y-you’re my friend, k-katsuki! didn’t wanna lose you…”

satisfied with your response and feeling a little mean once more, the king of the plastics brings a heavy hand down against your ass before gripping it tight, forcing you back and forth on his creamed dick. you hiss at the newfound pain blooming underneath your skin, blinking back more tears.

“that’s right sweets, you’ll let me do anythin’ to keep me right? stay bein’ friends.” bakugou barks salaciously into your shoulder blade. greed and power and control sparks between your bodies that move in sync with one another, your hips shakily attempting to catch up with his rough pace.

you gasp when he hits a spot that’s got you howling at the moon. “y-yes, god, yes!”

“even let me fuck your crush? let me fuck you in front’a him?”

all you can do is nod and gargle in response, passionately sucking on his fingers. “get ‘em nice and wet for me. wanna play with you, gorgeous.” he nips at your skin, leaving the imprint of his canines against you before his red eyes laser focus on where your bodies continually meet. “lift your hips. atta girl.”

a heinous squeal escapes you, borderline pornographic as katsuki fumbles between your body and shouto’s high thread count sheets. his sticky fingers press into your pleasure nub in tight, calculated circles and he rewards the sound of your choked moans with another barrage of love bites to your neck. ones that you won’t be able to cover up. ones that show how much you’ve been used.

you wonder if his appetite for your dedication will ever be satisfied. even though your pussy works it’s way back onto him and swallows his cock down like fucking magic — bakugou still wants more of you. he grins sinisterly at the bruises that form just under your skin, that make you hiss when he licks over them and spills his curse words over against that sensitive spot underneath your ear. the sensitivity makes you yelp loudly, despite the people that walk by.

including none other than shouto todoroki.

“you’d even let him watch as i creamed your cute cunt, wouldn’t ya? so pathetic. it’s adorable, sweetness.” the blonde goads, pulling back so that he can get a better view of your ass bouncing against his slender hips. spreading you apart with large hands, he drools down onto his cock and your asshole, spitting onto the point at which his shaft slips inside of you — watching the white froth mix in with your viscous nectar and disappear into the creaminess of your tight hole.

your crush audibly gasps as he enters the room — mismatched eyes drinking in the view of you being absolutely wrecked from behind by his ex. shouto can’t help but admire your puffy face and equally puffy folds while he settles on the bed next to katsuki. he has no idea how his feet even carried him there.

“bakugou what are you—?”

the tail end of shouto’s words slip away when you clench down hard on bakugou, his head falling onto the latter’s shoulder while you share shaky moans. “oh my god,” katsuki pants, pulsing against your silken walls and driving his dick upwards into your sweltering mound. “you’re fuckin’ obsessed with me. with him. you just won’t let this dick go, will ya?”

admitting that you like shouto watching you get fucked by bakugou would be just as embarrassing as admitting your crush on him. it doesn’t matter if you’re crying too hard to confess the matter with words, both of them know it. they can tell by the way your pussy spasms around katsuki’s bulbous cockhead as it bullies it’s way into you with every thrust. “see icyhot, told ya she was a weirdo,” He chuckles down at you menacingly. “letting me be the one t’stretch her pussy open even though you’re the one that she wants. s’so embarrassing.”

todoroki let’s out a noncommittal grunt, equally amused by the situation like his ex. “yeah… so weird…”

he reaches around to grab at the fat of your waist and tugs you back onto katsuki so that his dick never leaves you. so that your clit is smooshed up against perfect abs, that contract with every thrust and overstimulate you.

maybe it’s not such a bad thing to be used by the king of the plastics, if it means shouto gets to touch you too.

“i think she’s about to cum, katsuki.” the two-toned haired jock states as if it’s obvious, his voice husky and low as the scent of sex trickles into the air. “you’re gonna make her cum, baby.”

“can fuckin’ feel it, she’s ‘boutta make a mess of me.” they share a lustful look behind you, that leads to them sharing sloppy, uncoordinated kisses as if you’re not even there. truly treating you like a sex toy to be used whenever, wherever.

the sounds of their kisses ring in your ears, cause heat to burn at your cheeks and shame to settle in your chest once again. but this time, you don’t fucking care — not when you’re close to cumming, not when both of the people you adore in your life are using little old you.

forcing you back and forth over katsuki’s dick even faster, shouto finds it in himself to address you, moaning out your name. “a-are you close?” he simpers, tongue rolling over his ex’s.

“i— i am. p-please. let me cum. lemme cum. lemme c-cum—!” you chant as if it’s the gospel, voice tapering off into a set of whistle tone simpers as you finally hit your high. black spots dot your vision, katsuki using a last burst of energy to canter into you, slamming against your g-spot over and over again. the dam breaks before your brain can register it, release trickling out of your fluttering hole like a flash flood after a vicious storm. it soaks his soft tuft of blonde pubes and soils the sheets below, your body wracked with shakes and aftershocks.

katsuki's cock against your cervix being the epicentre.

the two men behind you share a sick little laugh when you collapse into the sheets face first, both of them leaning down to kiss either of your cheeks soothingly.

“so fuckin’ cute ‘n loyal,” bakugou coos in a twisted tone, pulling out of you to jerk himself off over your quivering body.

shouto smiles and rubs soothing circles in the small of your back in an attempt to calm you down — taking pleasure in your tiny sniffles and hiccups while you come down from your high.

“your turn, bakugou.” he purrs slightly, using his arm to prop himself up on the bed for a perfect view of you both.

“mmfuck, shit ‘m so close.” colourful curses spew from between bakugou’s perfect, cherry bitten lips just as he hits his peak. slick sounds accompany the movements of his rough palm up and down his length, coaxing himself towards orgasm. he cums with a shout, a feral growl tearing his chest in two with how loud it is. all while ropes of his blistering hot and white cum land on your ass, pussy and back.

he collapses next to shouto after that.

you feel a finger drag through the hot mess on your back and turn around just in time to watch bakugou feed a scoop of his cum to your crush. todoroki sucking his fingers happily. “go get her a towel, icyhot.” he demands, and like a slave to the crown, todoroki follows — disappearing from the room in search for a rag to clean you up with. surprisingly, the blonde helps you to sit up, taking you into his chest so you can snuggle against it. “don’t cry sweetness, s’okay. i forgive you for thinkin’ i was a bad friend.”

tilting your chin up, you’re rewarded with a firm chaste kiss — swallowing katsuki’s moans as he tastes the saltine tears in your lips. “you’ll never do it again, right?”

“r-right…” you reply meekly, flinching at the blonde who boops your nose almost affectionately.

he busies himself with fixing your costume until shouto returns with a wet rag to wipe the cum from between your thighs and the rest of you. you try not to let it get to you when they share another passionate kiss, sucking on each other’s tongues and mussing up each other’s hair until they’re all rosy cheeked and short of breath.

you would be a fool to think that you ever stood a chance with shouto todoroki after tonight.

much like you, he’s just another piece in katsuki’s game of chess. he’ll never escape the toxic cycle of their relationship when things keep going like this.

“you look sexy with your hair pushed back, icyhot.” katsuki says to shouto once they come up for air, ruffling his silky locks out of place. his ruby, crazed, gaze slinks over to you next, a coy smirk playing at his lips. “sweetness, tell him, icyhot he looks sexy with his hair pushed back.”

katsuki bakugou is terrible. evil. conniving. but he’s all you’ve got, even if he is a mean girl.

“shouto…you look sexy with your hair pushed back.”

2K notes · View notes

blurredcolour · 3 months

Text

I. "Do You Trust Me?"

"Trust" Series Masterlist

John "Bucky" Egan x WAC!Female Reader

A slight against one of your dearest friends causes you to act wildly out of character, and Bucky finds himself stepping up to save you as he realizes just what you mean to him after months of seemingly innocuous encounters.

Warnings: Language, Period Typical Sexism, References to Cheating, Reader Knees a Man in the Groin, Perceived Threats of Violence, Plenty of Kissing, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Rating - T.

Author’s Note: Well here we are, watching me write for this show before it's fully aired. Blame/credit to @precious-little-scoundrel and her anon for infecting my brain. Reader has an unnamed brother for sake of plot, no descriptions or y/n used. Events of this fic take place a few days before the horrific Regensburg mission. Also I recognize that WACs did not arrive in the ETO until July of 1943, this fact does not seem to have influenced Hanks/Spielberg so I shan't let it influence me either. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 4217

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The pub was crowded, as usual, and Bucky leaned back in his chair as Curt regaled their table with another one of his stories from Walla Walla. The press of uniform clad bodies, damp from the summer rain outside, created a humid atmosphere. But as he tipped the last few drops of Scotch whisky from his glass into his mouth, he was certain there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

Buck had decided to sit this one out, wanting to catch up on his latest letter to Marge. His mouth ticked up at the corners as he reflected once again on how different he and his friend were from one another. Glancing at the bar while he contemplated fetching the next round, Bucky’s eyes widened as they fell on the last person he would ever expect to see in a pub. It took him a moment to recognize you in such an unusual environment, hair perfectly styled. He noted that you were even wearing makeup as your teeth sank into your brightly painted lower lip, wending your way through the crowd, clearly on a mission.

“Bucky are you even listening?” Curt chided with a sharp jab of his elbow into his upper arm.

“Yeah absolutely,” He nodded firmly, unable to take his eyes off you, “every word.” He tacked on as his gaze followed you across the room on your approach to the notorious flirt from 349th squadron, Arthur “Red” Jameson.

He was vaguely aware of the doubtful scoff his reply had earned as his eyes narrowed. Wasn’t your friend Mary rather serious about Red? Not that Red bothered limiting himself to any one woman, local or American – there were few limits that smug redhead put on his relations with the fairer sex. Perhaps that was why Bucky was feeling particularly annoyed with how close you had come to stand next to him at the bar. With the way you were smiling at him. You hardly ever smiled, had to be one of the most serious, reserved women he had ever encountered here in England or back home.

It was when you ducked your head to peer up at Red through your lashes that the realization hit him – you were fucking flirting with him. His fingers clenched tightly on his empty glass, fingertips blanched white as the strength of his grip drove the blood from the flesh there. A slow, knowing smile unfurled across Red’s face as he leaned in, his hand landing on your shoulder making Bucky’s teeth grind together almost painfully as he was flooded with proprietary rage.

The intensity of it startled him, made him take a sharp breath and relax his grip on the glass. Where in the hell had that come from?! The pair of you had spoken no more than a handful of times, simple interactions in the Operations Room of the Control Tower back when he was Air Exec, around the base, or most recently, that afternoon when you had lent him a copy of one of his favorite books, but it wasn’t like you were close. You were quiet, overshadowed by your boisterous friends Mary, Ruth, and that brunette whose name escaped him just then. They were always outgoing at dances while you did an excellent job of decorating the wall. It certainly was not like you were anything more than colleagues. Objectively that was the truth, however, as Bucky sat there watching you grin at that man…

The final straw came as your lips nearly brushed against Red’s ear, making that bastard’s eyes shoot wide, sending Bucky surging to his feet. He narrowly missed one of the low beams overhead as he glared across the crowded room at the cozy pair you and Red presented at the bar.

“Jesus Christ Bucky, did something jump up and bite your ass?!” Curt barked in surprise, the rest of the table laughing loudly in response.

Bucky barely heard them as his new vantage point allowed him a clear view of your knee colliding painfully with the apex of Red’s thighs, causing him to crumple against the bar as you bolted out the back door. Bucky stared after you, just as bewildered as Red’s friends, before they charged out the door in your wake.

“God dammit.” He muttered under his breath before climbing over his friends to make a dash for the front entrance of the pub, his cap clutched in his hand.

------------

Your Women’s Auxiliary Army Corp unit had arrived at Thorpe Abbots in late May, part of the first battalion of WAACs sent overseas. Assigned to the Eight Air Force, you had spent roughly a week with your British counterparts of the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force observing missions on other bases before it had come time to establish the base for the 100th.

Fast, accurate typing skills and a calm, quiet temperament had seen you promptly assigned as a clerk in the Operations Room, one of the tensest and most chaotic places on the entire base. Upon your arrival at training camp in Fort Des Moines, you had been adopted by a trio of far more outgoing women – Mary from Miami, a sun-kissed blonde who managed to look that way no matter what the weather; Ruth from Pittsburgh, a black-haired beauty who was manufactured from the steel her hometown was known for; and Violet from Savannah, a brunette who elongated every vowel like the southern belle she was.

Why they chose to waste any of their precious time on you was as much as mystery to you in England as it had been in Iowa, and yet any time you tried to convince them you would be perfectly happy sitting out a dance in your barracks with a book instead, they were adamant you attend. Bodily removed you from your cot to join them – not that you were one for dancing, even with the most handsome of airmen. And that title would most certainly have to be bestowed upon Major John Egan. Perhaps a bit of a rogue and more-often-than-not a little too deep into his cups, there was something undeniably charming about him. A magnetism that drew every woman on the base, and from across all of East Anglia, to him. The handsome devil knew it, too. Of course he did, that was, alas, also part of his charm.

Your trio of outgoing friends had gravitated toward him immediately, traded their fair share of coy looks and dances with him while you looked on quietly from the sidelines. He never really seemed to form that deep a connection with any of them, with any woman for that matter, but that did not deter the female population from trying to be the one to catch his eye for a bit of fun. It was during the long hours of the 100th’s first mission, while he was still serving as Air Exec, that you’d had your first occasion to speak to the man directly.

In the middle of one of the tense periods of waiting for news, he had poked his head into the office to see if anything had come across the teletype or wireless and you had looked up, meeting his eye. He was wearing his sheepskin coat, a striking combination of ivory and cognac colored leather that would have honestly looked absurd on anyone else, yet on him just seemed to belong over his dress uniform.

“Can I help you, Major Egan?” You had asked, fingers poised above your typewriter as you paused your progress in typing up a report for Colonel Huglin.

He had looked at you, startled a moment. “I was convinced you might actually be unable to speak. Glad to know I was wrong. It’s Bucky by the way. Just checking if there were any updates?”

“We’ll be sure to get them to you as soon as we have them, sir.” You had replied professionally, trying to ignore the warmth unfurling beneath your breastbone at having his attention directly solely upon you.

“That’s all I can ask then, thank you.” He had winked before slipping out of the room and heading back towards the plotting map.

It had not taken long for a series of updates to arrive, both by radio and over the teletype and being the highest-ranking clerk in the office, third officer, it was your duty to run them out to him. Grabbing both sheets of paper, you had quickly made your way across the room, startled to find him striding towards you, meeting you halfway. “Here you are Major Egan.”

“Touchdown.” He had grinned and taken them over to review with the others as you had hurried back to your office, gnawing on the inside of your cheek to hide your smile.

You had been admittedly saddened when he had been demoted to squadron commander of the 418th after Colonel Harding assumed command of 100th. For selfish reasons, certainly – your interactions had become increasingly limited after this point – but also because it meant he was more frequently put into harm’s way. Every time he went up in a fort, you found focusing on the job at hand more and more difficult. Unlike the ground crews or the brass, it was not looked upon kindly for the WACs to go running outside to see which forts had come back. Which airmen were injured. Sometimes it would take hours for you to confirm that he was all right, and only then by way of hearsay.

You had still run into Major Egan from time to time, while walking with your group of friends to the WAC mess for dinner – by mid-July you were now serving in the Women’s Army Corp as a 2nd Lieutenant, or after meetings in the Operations Room when he was not flying missions. But the longest conversation you ever had was during one of your breaks earlier that very afternoon. It was an uncharacteristically sunny day, and with no mission in progress you had decided to take your coffee break outside, behind the control tower, sitting on one of the benches the ground crew had built out of scrap wood.

Before you had enlisted, your brother had bought you a copy of his favorite book, one he had never let you read before because you were ‘just a kid’ but now that you were old enough to sign up for the service yourself, he had decided you could have your own copy. With just two pages left, it seemed the perfect way to break up the morbid tallies you had been typing up in the grim office upstairs, and you had just finished the final sentence when a shadow fell over you.

“Now how did you get a copy of my favorite book?”

You had lifted your eyes quickly, squinting slightly into the bright sun that shone from behind him, to see Major Egan standing there.

“Major Egan. You like Guys and Dolls, sir?” You had asked, startled.

“How many times do I gotta tell you it’s Bucky.” He had stepped out of the sunlight to sit beside you carefully. “I love everything by Damon Runyon. Which story did you like the best?” He had leaned in curiously.

Pursing your lips to think over the collection of stories you had just finished, you smiled briefly as the answer came to you. “’Madame La Gimp.’ Where they pass off the bag lady –”

“As a society matron! Yes!” Major Egan chimed in, laughing as he nodded in agreement.

“What…about yours?” You had swallowed, unable to stop yourself.

“God, I haven’t read this book in forever…” he had reached out for it, and you had set it in his hands easily.

He had sucked his teeth in thought as he turned it over in his broad hands. “It’s gotta be a tie between ‘Blood Pressure’ and ‘Hold ‘Em Yale’…ah but ‘Lemon Drop Kid’ is excellent, too.” As he had spoken, he had begun to gesture with the book to emphasize his words, making you press your lips together fondly.

“You can borrow it if you’d like.” You had blurted out before you could stop yourself. “Give me a definitive answer once you’ve read it again.”

Major Egan had looked to you quickly. “Really? But what if…how will I know to get it back to you?” He had raised an eyebrow.

“My name’s on the front page.” You had nodded reassuringly but swallowed tightly as he opened the cover as if to confirm it for himself.

“‘Hey Sis,’” He had begun to read the inscription he found there, bringing your brother’s words to life, “‘lighten up, would you? You don’t have to be so damned serious all the time. See you on the other side.’” He had paused a moment before his eyes had met yours, caught you watching him, before you quickly looked down at the grass at your feet. “Where is he?” he had asked quietly.

“On a ship in the Pacific, somewhere.” You had replied softly, finding each blade of grass infinitely fascinating.

“Are you sure–” He had begun to ask before the sound of your name being called by your very impatient Captain, a woman even Major Egan knew not to waylay, interrupted the peaceful afternoon.

You had leapt to your feet. “You’ll get it back to me.” You had nodded and rushed back inside, believing every word of it.

You had seriously contemplated sharing your encounter with at least Ruth, the more level-headed of your friends, knowing she was the least likely to conflate the exchange with a marriage proposal. But as you returned to your barracks that night, you frowned deeply to find Mary in tears on her cot. After much soothing and rocking in your arms, she finally managed to open up, sharing what had gotten her so upset.

“It’s Red…I caught him out back necking with one of those doughnut truck girls…” She hiccupped and dabbed at her nose with her hanky.

“Oh Mary, I’m so sorry.” You frowned, smoothing her hair back from her forehead.

“Oh god, I can’t believe I let that creep talk me into sleeping with him!” She wailed, fresh tears boiling over onto her cheeks as she sagged onto your shoulder, sobbing anew.

Every muscle in your body tensed as her outburst sunk in, the depth of his betrayal fully registering as Vi and Ruth returned from the end of their shifts in the weather office and Mary launched herself into their arms to fill them in as well. The level of pure fury that seized your body was utterly foreign to you and, unlike the descriptions you had encountered in literature to date, felt utterly icy in your veins. As your friends gently coaxed Mary to the latrines to get herself cleaned up, you hung back, a plan formulating quickly in your mind. Your life without these women would have been lonely, all but intolerable, and this transgression against one of them could not go unanswered. You could not look at yourself in the mirror if you did nothing.

Digging quickly through Mary’s belongings, you found her most alluring shade of lipstick, carefully but efficiently applying it to your lips before unpinning and redoing your hair into a more fashionable shape rather than the more utilitarian style you normally wore. Lastly you added a flick of mascara to your eyelashes and rouge to your cheeks. All this was accomplished using the tiny mirror Vi had set up on the shelf beside her bed. Nodding once in satisfaction, for it was truly the best you could do in a solo effort, you darted out the door, lipstick tube in your pocket for reapplications, if necessary. The cad would never see it coming from you, you just needed to figure out a way to get close enough.

Fortunately, the years you had spent on the sidelines watching the three masters of feminine wiles at work had afforded you quite the education. It was only a matter of finding the perpetrator to enact your revenge. You located him in the second pub you visited, taking a slow breath as your eyes sought him out in the crowded, humid space. The rain had thankfully stopped before your foray out into the night, though the streets remained wet, and you had taken the time to refresh your lipstick and tidy your hair before stepping inside. Your heart began to race as your veins flooded with adrenaline.

‘Easy now. Slow and smooth like Mary, give him that flirty smile she’s famous for.’ You thought to yourself.

As his eyes met yours it was all you could do not to wince back in disgust – you were going to need to hide your dislike better.

‘Pretend he’s someone else. Who would you like him to be?’

You gulped shyly, teeth sinking into your lip at the thought of applying these skills to Major Egan, noting that Red seemed immediately more receptive as you slid up beside him where he stood at the bar.

“Evening, Red.” You smiled at him broadly, swallowing nervously as he echoed the expression warmly.

“Well good evening to you too. You escaped the base.” Red teased you.

You faked a giggle and tilted your head down before flicking your eyes to look up at him through your lashes, something Vi had weaponised to great effect on many an occasion. You tried not to shout in triumph as Red’s hand came to rest on your shoulder, leaning in closer.

“Can I buy you a drink, sugar?”

“Actually…” You smiled coyly before leaning in close to his ear, taking a slow breath before dropping all pretense from your tone. “Mess around with one of my friends again and I’ll cut it off.” You snarled into his ear before driving your knee into his groin as sharply as the straight lines of your uniform skirt would allow, slipping out of his grip as he slouched over the bar with a cry of pain.

You longed to bask in his suffering, in your triumph, but you also recognized you had to get out of there before the consequences of your actions found you. Spying a door propped open to a back alley over Red’s crumpled torso, you made a dash through the stunned corner of the pub and out into the night, pausing a moment before turning to the left, hoping it was the correct direction. You certainly wished you knew your way around town a little better.

Your heart was pounding so hard you were worried it might burst through the front of your WAC jacket as you neared the main street but there was an increasing ruckus behind you – surely Red’s friends in hot pursuit. Suddenly Major Egan appeared in front of you, seemingly out of nowhere, and grabbed your arm, pulling you around a corner and down a smaller alleyway.

“Do you trust me?” He asked quickly, glancing back towards the approaching sound of voices as he shuffled you backward, closer to the brick wall of the building behind you.

You nodded at him, speechless, breathing heavily from your flight. Your uniform cap felt precarious where it was perched on your rapidly falling hairstyle. Major Egan’s aftershave was flooding your senses due to his sheer proximity.

“I’m going to kiss you now.” He whispered as his eyes met yours, his own cap at a dangerous angle atop his dark curls, defying gravity.

He shifted forward to crowd your space, your eyes shooting wide as his forearms lifted to press against the wall on either side of your face, body shielding you from view. He bowed his head to press his lips against yours softly, making your eyelids flutter closed, doing nothing to slow the erratic beating of your heart. He tasted a little bit like whiskey, which had reminded you of gasoline the few times you’d had the misfortune of sipping it, but on his plush lips, it was not so bad.

Your hands balled into fists in the olive drab fabric of your skirt, heat painting its way across your cheeks and down your neck as the coarse hair that decorated his upper lip brushed against your skin. It was all too tempting to lose yourself in the feeling of him surrounding you, protecting you, kissing you. Reality reared its ugly head, making you inhale sharply through your nose as you heard the crowd of men stampede right past you muttering angrily.

“That damn cold fish from operations…”

“Who the fuck does she think she is?!”

“No wonder she ain’t got nobody.”

Pulling back from his lips, you frowned down at your brown uniform shoes, still hidden within the cage of his arms.

“Hey…” He murmured, bowing his head to nudge your nose with his, drawing your gaze back up as you swallowed shyly at the tender gesture. “Don’t listen to ‘em.” He urged you, his blue eyes so very dazzling and disarming at this range, even in the dim light of black-out conditions.

“I…It’s ok,” you breathed as you shook your head. “I know I’ll never be…” you furrowed your brow, not even sure what word you were searching for.

“Anything other than perfect, doll?” His lopsided grin was devastating, made it hard to breathe, though that may have also been his continued proximity. He leaned in for another kiss, but you lifted a shaky hand to press against his shoulder.

“Th…they’re gone you don’t have to pretend…” You murmured sadly, shifting to stand, but he did not move an inch, his breath brushing against your cheeks.

“I’m going to kiss you now because I want to, doll.” He murmured, eyes tracing over your face while giving you a moment to respond.

You were, however, frozen, staring at him again and so he pressed his lips firmly to yours, making your fingers curl slightly around the lapel of his uniform jacket. He hummed softly in response, pressing you back against the wall as he slanted his mouth tighter to yours, his hands moving to cup your cheeks. Shivering at the heat of his palms against your skin, you slowly lifted your other hand from your skirt, stretching it towards him, letting it hover between you tentatively.

He dropped his right hand from your cheek to guide your arm around his waist before sliding his own hand to splay against your lower back, drawing a whimper from your throat as you arched slightly.

He pulled back from your lips, chest heaving. “Christ, doll, you have no idea what you do to me.”

“Bucky?” You whispered, confused by his statement, finding it difficult to think clearly.

Bucky groaned and kissed you fiercely, licking at the seam of your lips, sliding his tongue to yours the instant you parted your lips for him. Toes curling in your shoes, you found yourself mewling into his mouth wantonly until he wrenched back suddenly, hand cupping the back of your head as he hugged you tightly into his chest. The sound of voices eventually registered in your addled brain – Red’s friends returning from their failed attempt to find you.

“If I had known all I had to do was kiss you senseless to get you to use my name…” Bucky teased once the coast was clear, panting into your hair.

You giggled against his throat, your own chest heaving as he loosened his hold on you. Your cap tumbled to the ground, fully dislodged by his attentions.

“It’s a burden I’m willing to bear.” He smirked, pressing his lips to your exposed forehead. “Let’s get you back to your barracks. What are you doing out here all dolled up kneeing idiots like Red in the goods anyway?” He asked as he bent to retrieve your cap, dusting it off and placing it in your outstretched hand before turning to slide his arm around your shoulders, leading you toward the main road.

You huffed with a frown as you walked with him, putting your cover back into place snuggly, crushing your once-stylish hair. “I didn’t appreciate the way he treated Mary.”

Bucky smirked at you “Your brother is right you know, you really do need to lighten up…you can just call him a good-for-nothing and be done with it. No need to write a formal treatise on his behavior.”

His lips stretched into a grin as that pulled another laugh from you. You turned to look at him properly and gasped.

“Bucky you have lipstick all over –”

“Perfect” He nodded proudly, cocky grin on his lips, and made no move to clean up his face, while you quickly wiped at yours, knowing you would have to face your barrack-mates. “Next time you go on an attack mission you let me know, alright, doll? I’ll fly on your wing anytime.” He winked at you, and you bit your lip shyly.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You swallowed and stopped walking, leaning in to press your lips to his cheek softly.

As you pulled back, Bucky flexed the arm he still had slung about your shoulders, hauling you in for another heart-stopping kiss, your hands coming to rest against his chest. You had a feeling that the rather lengthy walk back to base was only going to become exponentially longer and found you really did not mind at all.

-------------------------

Read Part Two - "Just Had To Trust You."

"Trust" Series Masterlist

#john egan x reader #bucky egan x reader #john egan fic #john egan imagine #mota fanfic #masters of the air fanfiction

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merakiui · 7 months

Text

long-distance love.

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, phone sex, obsession, power imbalance, kidnapping, implied (cyber)stalking, non-con touching, characters written as 18+ note - sea witch, the magicord mod you've had intimate online relations with, is closer than you thought.

Sea Witch is a busy man.

His weekly schedules are almost always packed to bursting, each event meticulously arranged into open slots as if aiming to form a perfect puzzle. Times never conflict; he’s particular about how he spends his hours, and very rarely does he allow himself a break. It has always been work, work, work. He’s one of the city’s most affluent, eligible bachelors and yet he’s married to his business. Those who lust after him think it’s a wasteful shame. Azul finds it to be a relief far greater than any he’s ever known. He will never compromise the enterprise he’s built from the ground up just because of some flimsy, fickle feelings.

Originally, he had no interest in Magicord, a messaging platform that grants people from all over the world the chance to congregate on specific servers for mutual interests like anime and gaming. He only downloaded it because Idia Shroud, a fellow friend and business partner, lived and breathed the app, his online presence so profound it was almost like a second home. He’d swipe away notifications from his actual messaging app, too busy in a voice call with his group of dungeon raiders to bother answering important calls.

So he resolved to get on Idia’s level in hopes of improving communication. Although Idia’s level, as Azul often noted, was not exactly a place he wanted to be. While Magicord could be used for business purposes, that wasn’t what drew people in. Azul of all people knew very well which target audiences were being reached with apps like Magicord, and he was not one of them.

“To think I’d stoop as low as this,” Azul had once groused over a phone call with Idia, who was giving him quite a lengthy, not-very-needed-but-also-very-much-needed rundown on Magicord’s inner workings. “I hardly have time to play games, let alone socialize on this…app.”

“Aren’t you always going on about how adaptable you are?” Idia sniped back, not in the mood for normie criticism. The sound of clacking keys could be heard on his end. “And you’re the one who asked. Kinda defeats the purpose of learning if you’re just gonna complain.”

Azul rolled his eyes. “I fail to see the logic in downloading another app just to ensure my messages reach you. Honestly, you ought to start checking your email. Or, at the very least, go through your missed call and text logs.”

Alas, Idia had been stubbornly adamant about his preferences and so, much to his displeasure, Azul was forced to undergo something of a Magicord Training Camp until he emerged a pro. And being a pro meant knowing how to navigate his own profile and toggle between that and Idia’s, which was really the only tip he needed because that was all he’d use the app for.

But Azul has always had an innate itch for wanting to know something from top to bottom, inside-out, and the idea of not knowing every little detail about Magicord drove him insane. If there was an opportunity he could capitalize on, why should he risk squandering it with his elementary-level knowledge? So he spent his rare slivers of free time playing around in there, creating a server and wondering who could ever become so attached to an app when the world beyond the screen was filled with just as many, if not more, social encounters.

His introverted side understood the appeal. In fact, he loved the idea of hiding behind a manufactured persona online. He didn’t have to be Azul Ashengrotto on Magicord. Rather, he could rid himself of his dislikable traits and become an entity—an idea or a concept—rather than a flawed man who others might scrutinize ruthlessly.

So he became Sea Witch, and within just a week he’d constructed quite the comfortable server. The invite link was spread throughout the various branches of Mostro. It would provide employees with an online sanctuary, where they could easily connect should doing so in person prove complicated (as had been the case regarding Idia, which was the sole reason he’d even poured so much time into this effort). Most of all, it gave Azul the chance to keep watch from afar, silently sitting in wait and curating a collection of mostly unimportant intel. Mere gossip, if anything.

But gossip is just as good as the next scandal. He likes to be prepared, a razored edge on all sides.

As far as the company was concerned, no one knew who this Sea Witch character was and no one knew who spread the link. And as far as individual employees knew, this was likely just some overworked intern’s labor of love—a well-crafted server intended to function as a digital gathering place for those exhausted after a long day. And that was mostly true, but all of the potential blackmail he could gather, the information he could glean, and even the people he could keep a closer eye on in an online setting—all of that paled in comparison to the real prize he’d attained. This was of great importance. It was something that altered the course of his life, opened his eyes to the brilliant beauty of a first love.

It was there in that undersea-themed haven where he met you, the one who would add flavorful spice to the once bland, boring meal that was his life. And just after a few weeks of simple, cordial conversation, he realized a single taste of your kind companionship wouldn’t be enough to sate him.

Greedy to a fault, Azul wanted you in your entirety.

Which brings him to the present, where he’s currently leaning back into the expensive leather of his driver’s seat. He’s parked on a silent strip of road, in a more residential part of the city. It’s not very busy here, and his windows are tinted to avoid immediate recognition. Rush hour won’t hit until later, and he’s not due for any conferences. He has time. Plenty of it to spare on this little excursion.

“I wanna meet you, Sea Witch,” you admit, nearly whining through the phone. “Where’re you from? Maybe we’re in the same area.”

Azul smiles at your impatience. You just can’t get enough of him, can you?

Every weekend, you hop into a VC with him and chat for hours on end. At first he simply provided a listening ear when you wished to rant through text or call. You’d voice all sorts of complaints. Azul filed them away in the event that they might be useful in the future, initially intending to use such information to ruin you should you prove to be someone worth ruining. But the more he spent listening and scrawling notes on blank paper, the more he realized you were just overworked and struggling financially.

Upon making these connections and learning all sorts of facts from you regarding your life beyond Magicord, he felt compelled to help. Out of the goodness of his heart, of course, ever the benevolent saint. And you weren’t complaining when he offered to pay you for your time. In exchange for two hours of conversation, he’d provide you with the funds you needed to afford your necessities.

Somehow, throughout many months of give and take—with his giving being on the jaw-droppingly exorbitant side, always one to top his own ludicrous generosity—your hours-long conversations would sink beneath the surface of mere companionship. It was one-sided intimacy. Azul was careful with what he shared, building a mostly secretive profile for himself. He didn’t want to risk tarnishing your fondness for Sea Witch by sharing details that felt more like Azul and less like the effortlessly funny, charming, and eloquent Magicord mod you’d originally made contact with.

You didn’t seem to worry about compromising your own privacy, easily divulging a variety of fun tidbits about your life. You’d share the tiniest of details and he’d eat it up every time, hungering for more than just crumbs. That time you sent him a photo of the octopus macarons you’d bought from a local bakery because you were thinking of him? He remembers it well, and he’s constantly reminded of it when you text him about things you did over the weekend or hobbies you basked in. Sending photos of your houseplants, asking him for his opinion on clothes you were hoping to buy (which he was always more than willing to sponsor; all you needed to do was send the link and he’d purchase it), and even trusting him enough to fall asleep in the VC with him (arguably one of his favorite things about your unique relationship).

And he called it unique not because it was a bad sort of strange. Rather, it was unique in the refreshing sense. He’d never had an online friend before, let alone someone who would so willingly and readily indulge him. Granted, this willingness stemmed from the deal he’d cut with you and so you were really only doing these things for your own gain. But then so was he. It was a relationship built upon necessity. You needed money to survive, and he needed you.

So it was okay to fall into sleazy fantasies. It was all an act anyway, and it wasn’t like you judged him or his preferences. At least, not outright. If you did, it was silent. You were considerate and sweet; and you really did consider him a friend. Or so he hoped. If your casual conversations were any proof, it was obvious there was some sort of enjoyment and trust there.

Friendship or something more, he would have you. Whether that meant in the safety of his pocket, enclosed within his mobile phone forever, or in his penthouse, tucked away in his bedroom—he’d have you.

“I’m from a city, yes,” he answers, purposely cryptic.

“Obviously. Come onnn, Witchy. Don’t you wanna meet me, too?”

“I do, and one day we’ll meet. I promise.”

He listens to your irritated groan and his cock twitches in his slacks. Good god, your voice is a blessing—more heavenly than a cherubic choir.

“One day isn’t today, though.”

“Perhaps not.” He speaks to distract you from the rustling fabric of his pressed suit as his hand strays further. He spies his reflection in the rearview mirror, notes the flash in his irises. If only you were here, sitting beside him in the passenger seat. If only he could slide his own seat as far back as it would go, lie still and serene, and let you climb into his lap to spear yourself on his erection. Genuine leather be damned. He wanted your scent, your essence, your everything engraved into the very interior. “Humor me—if we were to meet right now, what would you like to do?”

“Mm, I’d want to get a good look at the man I’ve been talking to for nine months now.”

“Oh, you’ve kept track?”

“You haven’t?” Your laughter is fluffy and light—authentic amusement. “And I’d want to memorize your face so that I’ll never forget it.”

“May I ask why?”

“Because I’m so curious! You know what I look like—”

“Not entirely,” he interjects, sly and silver-tongued. “You’re a portrait half-finished in my mind. Not yet sketched to completion.”

And it’s true. From your shoulders down, you are a faceless beauty. He’s seen you nearly naked and fully clothed, in frills and lace, in latex and ribbons, in satin and chiffon. And yet, for all of the skin you’ve shown, he can’t place a face (or a real name, for that matter) to your body.

“Okay, poet,” you tease, and he’s already palming himself through the fine fabric of his trousers. “But I’ve still never seen an inch of you. You’ve never even sent a dick pic.”

“You’ve never asked.”

“Can I have one now?”

“Nice try.”

“Asshole!” you gripe, clicking your tongue in disappointment. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“I’m aware,” he hums, squeezing himself, his breath coming out faint and haggard.

Yeah, he’s the worst. But then you’re the best at eliciting these sorts of reactions from him. The effect you have on him is utterly enthralling. Your ability to reduce him to a pliable puddle in just a few words—a mere few lighthearted, hollow insults—is truly impressive. He’d feel ashamed of himself if it wasn’t so good.

“You’re probably not even that big.”

“Would you like an exact measurement?”

“Wouldn’t it be better to measure it in person? See how many inches I could fit inside. I’ve been practicing with that dildo you sent me—the one shaped like a tentacle,” you purr, frustratingly coy. He wants your sinful lips wrapped around his dick right now—wants to fuck your throat sore and raw. Wants nothing more than to spill heavy and hot on your tongue so you’ll taste him for days. “If we met up, we could make that happen. Sooo, where’s my Sea Witch from? What part of the world?”

“Patience, angelfish.”

Even though he says so, he’s practically vibrating with excitement as he worries his bottom lip between his teeth. Soon. So soon. Very, very soon.

And then…

He imagines you rolling your eyes with your next words. “Fine, fine. I’ll be patient. But that’s not gonna stop me from fantasizing.”

“Well, what do you think I look like?”

“Now isn’t that a fun question?” You mull it over. He can tell because you mutter a variety of ums and hmms in that soft, sweet voice of yours. “I think you’re tall and you have a handsome face that matches your equally handsome voice.”

“Yeah?” he encourages, undoing the belt, button, and zip on his pants one-handed. “What else?”

Your giggles filter into his ears, seeming closer than they actually are due to the wireless earbuds he’s wearing. “From what I’ve gathered, you seem to have expensive tastes.”

Sitting in his lavish, one-of-a-kind, custom-made sports car, Azul thinks you would be correct.

“I wonder what gave it away…” he drawls, his voice creeping an octave lower.

He places his phone in the cup holder, reaching to open the glove compartment and retrieving a tiny bottle of lube. Squirting a scant amount on his palm, he fishes himself, throbbing and pathetically hard, out of his boxers. His slick hand is a warm, welcome embrace around his silky-smooth shaft. He sucks in a breath through grit teeth, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Mhm, I wonder. It’s not the fact that you told me I should just buy a designer bag for work when I asked for recommendations. And it’s certainly not your ability to get me lots of nice gifts as if it’s nothing. So maybe it’s just your excessive generosity that makes you seem so rich?”

“Sure, we’ll go with that.”

“Speaking of that, what do you do for a living?”

“Guess.”

“Okay, Mr. Mysterious… Um… Hm. I think you’re a pilot.”

The whiplash that assumption brings is so seismically jarring he thinks he might go flaccid. Gripping himself with renewed vigor, he slides his fist along his length, slow and perfunctory, picturing you under his desk, your mouth open wide to receive him…

“A pilot… Mm, no, not quite.”

“Aw. My second guess was gonna be a contract killer. They make lots of money.”

“You have quite the wild imagination, angelfish. Even if I was one, do you think I’d admit that to you?”

“Maybe,” you tease. He pictures your smirk as it twists your perfect, pretty lips into something wicked. “For the right price, yeah?”

“Oh? Do elaborate.”

Please. Please keep going. Don’t stop talking. I need to hear you, closer, louder, clearer… More.

“What sort of price would I have to pay to get Sea Witch to spill his secrets?” you muse, your voice a tantalizing curl of syllables, but he suspects you already know the answer to your hypothetical. “I can’t offer you money, so you’d have to settle for something a little more…physical.”

He shivers, nodding his agreement even though you can’t see it. “Physical’s good,” he mumbles, foregoing eloquence in favor of filth. “Much better than—mm—than money…”

“Yeah? All right. Let’s see… You’re well-off and you might or might not be a contract killer. Do you wear suits?”

“I do.”

“Ooh, so you’re one of those contract killers.”

Azul can’t help it; he laughs, the sound tumbling out in a breathy gasp. “I prefer looking nice at all times.”

Languidly, his hand continues its idle pumping. He cracks his eyes open to peer at the pre-cum beading at the tip.

“Even if you’re just going to get messy?”

“Explicate the situation that’s leading me to soil my clothes. Details, angelfish.”

“Well, if you’re a killer who wears suits, you wouldn’t like even the smallest stain. It ruins your image, but if it was me…” You pause, probably for effect, and it works. His back arches with anticipation, fingers closing tighter. “You’d make an exception.”

“I would,” he admits far too quickly. “Always.”

“So you really would out yourself as a killer if I spread my legs for you?”

“No, but I’d let you dirty my suits.”

“Good. They’ll look better on the floor anyway.”

His breath hitches. Fuck, your every word is a siren’s song, leading him deeper into mist-clouded waters. He’d keep you pinned on his cock all day if he could. Why should you continue to work your mundane job when you could spend your precious hours with him instead? He’ll be your job. Seven days a week, during each of the breaks he’ll pencil into his schedules, you can visit him and he can empty all of his stress into you. And you’ll take it because you’re such an obedient sweetheart for him, always so ready to please your master.

He prays you can’t hear the salacious squelch of skin on skin as he works himself towards the edge, but a nastier part of him wants you to listen in so you’ll be reminded that this is your fault. No one else can possibly make him this messy. No one else is capable of rendering him a clumsy, lovestruck fool. You’re probably well aware of these facts, having brought him to this same edge numerous times in the past. Sometimes you would reach that tipping point alongside him, your gasps and groans joining his in an obscene duet.

Neither of you decided upon today’s development, but he thinks—knows—you’re intentionally stringing him along. You want this as much as he does.

“So was I right? You’re totally a contract killer?”

“I’m a businessman, angelfish,” he corrects, a silly, drunken smile softening his jaw. You make him feel so stupid, so warm and fond.

“So basically the same thing. Just as ruthless, no?”

“Please, you wound me. I’m always kind.”

“Ah, so there are others who get this treatment? And I thought I was the only one…”

“You are. No one could ever compare to you.”

He intends to tack my love onto the sentence’s end, but he stops himself. You’re not his love. Not really. You’re his angelfish, sure, but that’s different. That’s just a pet name befitting the aquatic theme he masquerades behind. And you’re not really Azul’s. You’re Sea Witch’s.

It’s Sea Witch you know and love. Beyond that, Azul is just Azul. And he’s nothing like the ideal he’s cultivated on Magicord.

He sighs and forces himself out of the turbulent trenches of his withering self-esteem. Now is not the time to contemplate which version of himself you’d be more preferential to.

You’ll have no choice but to love the real him. Soon.

“Really? I feel so special.” Impressed, you whistle and add, “I’ve gotta make you feel special, too.”

“You already have—”

“Not inside the VC. Come on, Sea Witch, don’t you wanna meet me?”

“I do. I really do,” he babbles dumbly, grinding his thumb into his slit and smearing pre-cum. He grits his teeth and tamps down a colorful word. How he yearns for this to be your hand wrapped around his length, tugging him to that far-off finish line. “I want nothing more than to—t-than to see you, all of you, in person…”

“So what’s stopping you? I could do a lot more in person than I can over the phone.” He has a smart reply for that, but it sticks in his throat. Pitifully, like the rightful debauched mess he is, he groans, low and guttural. “Let me turn the question on you, Sea Witch. If we were to meet today, what would you like to do to me?”

So many things, he thinks, a litany of smutty imagery flickering through his head.

But Sea Witch is classy (most days) and today is one of those instances. Or at least he’s going to make an attempt, however weak it may be.

“Take you to dinner,” he mumbles, executing jerky, quick motions in a daze, his cock weeping for release. He throws his head back, peers up at the interior roof of his car, and inhales sharply. “Take you all over the city if it pleases… I’d spoil you with so much finery—dress you up and then tear every article off…”

“And then?”

“And—god, fuck—wanna be inside you, angelfish… So badly—need you so badly. I wanna feel you and kiss you and hold you.”

He’s unraveling, strings pulled taut and fraying to extremity. Azul bucks into his hand and imagines it’s you, tight and warm, a sweet, snug embrace. He opens and closes his mouth, intending to beg you for more, but all that slips out are the tiniest huffs and grunts. He’s so wrapped up in his own ardor that he almost misses your quiet pants, every breath squeezed out of you as if you’re struggling to withhold your gratuitous moans. And it’s deplorable, really, the way his ears prick at these muffled sounds, the way his cock stands rigidly at attention, the way he’s falling through fragments of filthy fantasies, each one so close and yet impossibly far.

“I want you, too,” you mewl, tone wavering between shameless thrill and some sort of seventh heaven.

He wonders what you’re using to pleasure yourself. Are your fingers, slick and curled, rubbing up against those perfect, pretty spots that have you seeing stars? Or are you using the toys he purchased for your enjoyment? Maybe you’re lowering yourself onto the dildo right now, gummy walls clenching around girthy silicone. And maybe you’re tugging at your nipples, massaging them between the pads of your fingers, or maybe you’ve swapped skin-to-skin for a bullet vibrator instead.

Maybe—just maybe—it’s the mere thought of him that sets your flesh aflame with an intoxicating desire.

“And I want you—” you gasp, and his mind travels to all of the risqué photos you’ve sent, each one saved in a password-protected album on his phone— “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything before. I want you to show me that no one else can compare to you. I want you to—mmh, hah—to hold me down in bed and fuck me until my legs are sore and I can’t walk.”

I will, he thinks, lashes fluttering on his cheekbones. He strokes himself quickly, chest heaving, tongue near-lolling out of his mouth as he pants like a hound in heat. I’ll do all of that and so much more. I’ll fuck every coherent thought out of your pretty head, keep you just smart enough to rely on me, turn you into the prettiest sea flower who’ll only blossom for me.

“I promise, angelfish. I promise I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted,” he vows, his nerves alight with lustful delight, “and you’ll never know misfortune again.”

“I—oh! I’m close, so close! Please, Sea Witch! Please don’t stop. Please fill me up and make me yours!”

The sheer vulgarity twined through amatory vehemence, coupled with his own hurried pace, has him tumbling down the slope, arousal peaking and spilling over in thick, creamy spurts. He has half a mind to catch his spend before it can ruin the pristine interior of his car, and he blinks down at the semen sullying his palm. Idly, he rubs his fingers together to test the viscosity, wondering how his fluids would look on your face, your stomach, your ass—or even pooling out of your hole in plentiful amounts.

That fantasy is enough to send blood rushing right back to his softening cock, and he wills those thoughts away with logic—complex calculations and the financial forecast for Mostro. There will be plenty of time to indulge in sexual cravings later. He reminds himself of this while he tamps down his zeal, his heart relaxing in his ribs as he sits with the slowly ebbing aftershocks of orgasm.

You seem to be doing much the same, for you’ve gone perfectly quiet.

“Everything all right, angelfish?” he whispers after a few minutes, his breath now evened out.

“Mm, yeah. All good over here. Messy, but good.”

“I’m comforted knowing we’re in the same boat.” He chuckles while fumbling to dig a cotton handkerchief from the depths of his suit jacket. He cleans the cum and residual lube from off his hands and dick before neatly tucking himself away. Soon, there will be no need for this charade. Soon, he can adore all of you from beyond the screen. “Angelfish, there’s something I’d like to tell you.”

“What’s up?” you murmur, your own voice settling into its usual cheery cadence. He suspects you’re just putting on an act to sound happier. That will change when you’re reunited in person because it will be real. Because there will be no point in pretending through the phone.

“Well…” Azul smiles, folds and unfolds the sodden handkerchief, and then straightens his posture. He should be on his way now. “Ah, it’s nothing. Never mind it. I’ll tell you later.”

“Whaaat? But you’ve made me so curious now. Don’t just leave me in suspense!”

“Then I’m afraid you’ll have to remain in that suspense indefinitely.”

“Ugh. You’re so annoying sometimes.”

He knows you don’t mean that.

“I’ll tell you soon, angelfish. Exercise a little patience. There’s no rush.”

“Easy for you to say. You know what it is.”

“That I do, yes.” He hums, considering his next words. “Would it help if I left you with a word of advice?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything.”

“Um. Okay, sure. Hit me. What’s your advice?”

Azul buckles himself in, starting his car via push button. It rumbles to life, smooth and steady. “Don’t fight so much, my dear.”

“Don’t what? Sea Witch, what are you talking—”

Your words are interrupted with a startled yelp. Azul listens to the struggle as if it’s a podcast enjoyed at sunrise. Things are toppled in the chaos; something shatters. He catches the beginnings of a blood-curdling shriek before it’s swiftly silenced. There’s more muffled scuffling before, eventually, absolute peace.

It’s broken by Floyd’s petulant whine. “Maaan, Shrimpy was so difficult. Thought you said they were easy, Azul.”

“Understandably so,” comes Jade’s astute reply. “We did catch them when they were most vulnerable.”

Floyd hums his agreement. “Y’know, Jade, Shrimpy’s kinda cute…”

“They are, aren’t they, Floyd?”

“Whatever you’re thinking, perish it right now,” Azul hisses, features twisting into something dark. “Keep your slimy mitts off of my angelfish.”

There’s an unsettling silence. Azul rolls his eyes. They’re fishing for a reaction he refuses to give.

“Clean up whatever mess you’ve made.” He takes his car out of park and eases into drive. “And don’t let anyone see you. It’ll be a hell of a pain if neighbors make unnecessary reports.”

“Yeah, yeah. Heard ya loud and clear.”

“Very well. Farewell for now.”

The call is cut. Azul grips the steering wheel, smug.

Soon waits for him on the horizon. He will not be a minute late.

You wake on a bed, in a spacious bedroom with exquisite floor-to-ceiling windows, many stories up in the clouds. A brightly lit cityscape sprawls beyond the confines of this room, illuminated with the deceptive shine of promise and success. At first it looks foreign. But then you recognize notable buildings, each standing tall and proud amidst the rest, and it occurs to you that you’re in a stranger’s home, in the heart of the big city.

The room itself is plainly colored; it reminds you of a hotel or a room you might find in a real estate catalogue. Perplexed, you sit up and take pause as your unfamiliar surroundings prove to be more frightful than your own confusion.

Pasted to the walls are various printed screenshots from Magicord, each one detailing a conversation of sorts. You stare at the wall behind you, the one in which the bed is currently pushed against, and peer closer at the contents of these messages.

They’re all from you.

Endearing terms you’ve called him in passing. Gentle insults. Lewd flirts. Vents and rants. Photos you’ve sent of very insignificant things—houseplants, meals, clothes. And then there are the photos of your body in skimpy lingerie and cosplay, all taped to the wall like this is some abstract museum of the digital you. The you who, despite being honest most of the time, took solace in the world of Magicord. The you who’d grown close with the mod from that whimsical ocean-themed server. The you who is now trapped, your ankle enclosed in a cuff. There’s a lead that only allows you to meander into the attached bathroom if you so please, and you suspect it’ll pull taut if you try to leave the room.

“What the fuck?” you mutter, your stomach twisting with disgust.

You look down at your clothes—you’re in someone’s collared shirt, intentionally designed to be oversized so that it drapes like a nightgown—and horror prickles your skin.

And then he arrives.

He’s dressed casually in black slacks and a simple white dress shirt, primly tucked in with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. You stare for a long moment, studying his features as his familiarity dawns. Your mouth falls open in a muted scream.

He smiles sweetly, stepping further into the amber glow from the bedside lamps. “It’s nice to formally meet you. I’m Sea Witch.”

But that’s not what’s shocking about this. The real shock—the thing that has your brain stumbling in an effort to put the pieces together before the picture can crumble—is far more jarring than the kidnapping and the captivity. You find your voice then, and before you can stop yourself the words are falling out in a hurry.

“CEO Ashengrotto?!”

Sea Witch—CEO Ashengrotto—stiffens, his brows furrowing immediately. He gives you a sharp, dangerous look. A look that seems to radiate one unspoken question: Where did you hear that name?

“You… You’re A-Azul Ashengrotto,” you continue, swallowing thick trepidation. “CEO of Mostro. You opened a new restaurant last year—Crave, right? And the menu features celebrity favorites—celebrities like Vil Schoenheit and Neige LeBlanche.”

He laughs his disbelief, carding a hand through soft, silvery locks. “How…do you know this?”

“I work there. You visited once with your secretary for quality checks. We even crossed paths.”

Azul gawks, realizes he’s gawking, and clears his throat. “I… I see. Well.” He inhales, holds his breath for three seconds, and exhales. “This makes things rather…awkward.”

“When you said businessman, I didn’t think… I mean, how was I supposed to know? Your voice sounds so different over call than it does in interviews.”

“Of course it does! I never use the same inflection for those things.”

This cannot be real, you think, watching him flounder anxiously. Azul Ashengrotto is Sea Witch. This whole time… Nine entire months… I was talking to the CEO—to the city’s most popular bachelor—and I didn’t even know it. They write articles about this guy! He’s all over the TV! How did I never realize?

And then a very mortifying thought worms its way in: Oh my God. We both know each other’s preferences. He saw so much of me—more than I’d ever want him to see—and I heard too many private things during our calls…

“Let’s just…” You rub circles into your temples to quell the incoming migraine. “Let’s never talk about this again. You can buy my silence and I’ll move on with my life. I’ll even forget all of…” You glance at the Magicord conversations stuck to the wall and then the chain binding your ankle. “All of this…stuff. We’ll agree to call it a misunderstanding and life will be good, yeah?”

The bargain doesn’t seem to reach him. He continues to stare at you, his eyes glazed with an emotion you can’t place. Whatever it is, it’s stormy and dark. You don’t like it, and you shrink away when he steps closer.

“All this time you were right under my nose…”

Azul climbs onto the bed with you, the mattress depressing under the additional weight. Framed by the hypnotic radiance of the skyscrapers climbing heavenward, he’s certainly earned his place in every celebrity gossip magazine you’ve ever read. Articles debating whether he’s secretly committed to a relationship. Articles theorizing what his life plans may have in store for him. Articles discussing whether he’ll ever get married, if he’ll remain single for the rest of his life, if he’ll ever open his heart to the many people who hope to earn his romantic affections.

No one knows it—how could they when he’s so tight-lipped with the paparazzi?—but you are the secret variable the articles have yet to discover. You are the covert partner, the one who has won his heart, the one who now sits shackled on his bed.

What sort of tabloid journalist could ever spin this story?

You scoot further up the bed, your back pressing against the ornately extravagant headboard. Your knees are pulled into your chest, a futile attempt at protection.

“All this time you were so close to me…” He marvels at this, his baby blue hues locked permanently on you. “And neither of us knew. I could’ve had you much sooner had I just realized…”

You blink at him, your heart sinking with every passing second. “Mr. Ashengrotto, what do you mean by that?”

A pout tugs at perfect, pretty lips. “Why so formal, angelfish? We’re much closer than that, surely.” His hands settle upon your knees, gently pulling them apart. Your blood curdles with fear. “There’s no need to be so tense. It’s only me.”

“No… Please wait. Hold on!”

“Hm? If I’m not mistaken, this is what you want. You were rather vocal about your desires. You’ve always been. So why are you looking at me like that? I’m not scary, am I?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Please let me go…”

He clicks his tongue in disapproval, his tone patient despite the subject. “You know I can’t do that.”

“But you… You kidnapped me! Y-You had those guys hiding in my home and they…” You shake your head, unable to describe the sheer terror that had overwhelmed you when those creepy twins descended. Hopeless, you open your eyes to give him your most despairing look. Tears brim in your eyes, threatening to fall at the slightest prodding.

“Oh, my dear, did they scare you? They’re brutes who know nothing of how to treat a person with adequate care. You needn’t worry anymore. I’m here for you.” He cups your face in a fond hold, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your cheek. “Don’t cry, angelfish. You’re in good hands—my hands. And have they not been the most generous?”

“You’re crazy. Obsessed! How can you think any of this is okay? Look around at the walls! You’ve pasted our conversations everywhere—they’re practically the wallpaper!��

“What of it?” His hand slides down to grip your chin, forcing you to meet him at eye level. “I love you. I have for months now. And if those are the ways you choose to classify my care, so be it.”

Tear trails trace down your face. He leans in to kiss the rivers away, but they morph into the saltiest of seas.

“You may not approve of my affections right this very moment. You may hate me, think I’m monstrous, a culmination of all things foul, but you will love me. In due time, my dear. And when you do, the world will open and the chain will come off and you will know freedom under my roof.”

He has the gall to worship you with a loving smile. It poisons you with newly brewing abhorrence.

“So cry your heart out. Scream and kick up a fit. Do what you must. And when the floods subside, we can learn to love one another. Both at our best and our worst, within and beyond Magicord.”

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere azul ashengrotto x reader #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere azul #yandere azul x reader #n/sfw

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glasskit · 2 years

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tw: vent

it hurts a special way when i read a y/n fanfic and the character has almost the same issues as me except mine are more extreme. (ex: 'nervous around crowds' vs 'can't go outside during the day without a buddy')

i used to be so comforted by these kinds of fics but now they just make me feel more alone because it's like- 'oh, people experience the things you do, but not like that'

#even more if i know that the me from a few years ago would have related #i've just gotten so much worse #i expected character development and got a character decline #kind of a vent #vent post #vent #tw vent #cw vent #vent tw #vent cw #venting #offtopic but i used to be pretty good at making poetry but now i'm awful at it #i can hardly even remember how i used to do it and it hurts #bc it was a really fun hobby #mypostss

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rollinouttahere-writes · 6 months

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It took the better part of a year, but I've finally figured out where to go with Joyride. A lot of people have been asking for this, so I hope it lives up to your expectations.

Joyride (Part 2)

Part 1

Yandere Ace x GN Isekai Reader

4.8k words

Warning! This contains pretty much every Ace related spoiler btw!

When going into a world you already know everything about, you don’t exactly expect to be surprised by anything. Sure, there will be slight changes and alternate interactions now that you’ve been unceremoniously dropped in, but you had been anticipating for the story to follow all the same beats.

Which is why you were really thrown off when Ace didn’t go his separate way when he was supposed to.

Luffy had succeeded in defeating Crocodile and stopping his plan for dictatorship of Alabasta, but Ace was still here. Granted, having Ace around was hardly the worst thing that could happen, but you didn’t understand what was going on with him.

After your downright bizarre interaction during the little joyride he took you on, you’d honestly had every intention of avoiding him going forward. Then he threw a curveball at you by sincerely apologizing later that night. With everything going on right now he just got a little carried away, that’s all, he won’t harass you about it again. Or so he claimed.

You were skeptical initially, but true to his word, he hasn’t brought up you joining the Whitebeard Pirates since. Between that, and him having an unknown advantage over you by being a favorite character of yours, it was easy to find it within yourself to forgive him. You two have been borderline inseparable since, much to the chagrin of your crewmates.

While Ace hadn’t openly made further attempts to convince you to join his pops’ crew, he’d found a thinly veiled loophole in the form of telling you all kinds of stories about them. You knew this was in and of itself, a method to win you over, but deemed it not worth calling out. Besides, who were you to refuse the opportunity to get some Whitebeard Pirates lore?

There were many late nights filled with quiet conversations about various shenanigans the crew got up to in their free time, of which there were many. An unsurprising fact because of course having that many sibling jam packed onto a ship would turn it into a vessel of chaos.

If you had a weaker resolve, these stories might have won you over. But no, you need to go home.

Even though you weren’t convinced on switching crews, or even just staying here, there was a different problem arising from all your quality time together.

The longer you spoke and goofed around with him, the deeper and more intricate the conversations became, the more human he became to you. Or course, he’d technically always been a human being, but your mind had always registered him (as well as everyone else here) as a “character” first and foremost. A figure in a fictional story which you just so happened to be in temporarily.

Now? After spending so much time with him, aftering seeing him make decisions based off his own experiences and preferences rather than being dictated by some omnipotent author, things have changed. He wasn’t Portgas D. Ace, the fan favorite character from One Piece. He was just Ace, your friend.

With this came something you never saw coming. Guilt. An all consuming, agonizing guilt that picked away at you every single second of the day.

You knew what was to come. You knew what was going to happen to him. What were you doing about it? Absolutely nothing. And for what? For the sake of preserving a story that’s already been altered from your mere presence?

What a disgusting excuse of a friend you were.

The internal conflict you were going through hadn’t gone unnoticed, not when it was taking such a high toll on you. Nami was the first to start grilling you on it. Naturally, she immediately started pointing fingers at Ace as being the cause, which while not wrong, she wasn’t correct in the way she believed herself to be either. It was hardly his fault that you had a heavy conscience.

Sanji had also picked up on your struggles and was very concerned about the bags under your eyes, even offering to make some tea to assist with sleeping. An offer you turned down perhaps more harshly than truly necessary, but being trapped in a deeper sleep sounded awful with the nightmares you’ve been having.

It had been upsetting enough to watch Ace die through a screen, but in your dreams you were right there. It felt so real.

A suffocating heat burned at your skin and seared your lungs with every panicked breath, which only became more frantic as hot blood splattered over your face. Life was rapidly draining from Ace’s eyes as he collapsed into the waiting arms of his now deeply traumatized brother.

Your feet were rooted to the ground, all you could do was stare in horror as he looked up at you with tearful, pleading eyes. “Why?” The word was more so coughed out than spoken, spraying out more blood that he couldn’t afford to lose. An arm extended towards you, the hand locking onto your own. His nails dug into your skin, drawing out blood of your own to mix with his into a revolting cocktail. “You could have stopped this. How could you do this to me?”

The last word was wheezed out and his body went limp as his dead, lifeless eyes stared through you. A soul wrenching scream tore its way out of Luffy’s throat, only to morph into your own as you were mercifully ripped from your slumber.

The screaming damn near gave Ace a heart attack, you’re sure of it. This nightmare had occurred after you and him had become separated from the rest of the group while traversing the desert, and you had found a compact cave for the two of you to pass the night in.

What made it worse was how he reacted. He was so concerned, even fretting over you as you desperately tried to get your breathing under control. The compassion in his eyes had done nothing to comfort you, it only served to further sicken you. Here he was wanting to save you from something as trivial as a nightmare, yet you couldn’t be bothered to speak up on and prevent his upcoming demise.

The guilt was killing you, and the solution was not only clear, but easy. So why couldn’t you bring yourself to just tell him? To plead and beg for him to give up the chase and not throw his life away. Yet your lips remained sealed.

All of these elements came to a boil and demanded your attention, so you did what seemed to be the easiest thing to do in your situation. Drink it away.

Now that Luffy had awoken from his brief coma after fighting Crocodile, Alubarna Palace was hosting a lavish party in celebration and thanks for what everyone had done. And what high end party would be complete without absurd amounts of alcohol?

It started with one, purely to help ease your nerves. However, when it didn’t, you poured yourself another. And then a few more. Zoro had initially been thrilled to have you as a drinking buddy, but apparently even he had his limits and had cut you off.

“The hell’s gotten into you? You’re drinking like you’re trying to run from demons,” the bottle of expensive liquor had been moved out of reach when you tried to go for it again.

“You have no idea,” you slurred out, head spinning from your evening of poor decision making.

Zoro shot you a questioning look, but didn’t press it, likely knowing full well that getting a coherent conversation out of you right now would be impossible. He heaved out a sigh and stood up, “I’m going to get you some water, stay right there.”

Thoroughly defeated, you slumped back into your chair. After all that, you still couldn’t get your dilemma out of your head. Your “demons” continued gnawing at your soul, and all that your drinking had done about it was ensure that you would have a miserable hangover in the morning.

Your head lulled to the side, and you caught sight of a familiar orange hat. Speak of the devil. While you were in the throws of self inflicted misery, Ace was happily taking advantage of all the food being offered. Good for him. He deserved a nice night.

As if acting on its own, your body managed to get up onto its feet. You shambled towards him, doing your best not to fall flat on your face with each uncoordinated step. Whatever invisible force that had been helping you to make the walk to Ace failed you at the last second, and you crashed into him from behind.

“Shit! Wha- Oh, it’s just you,” Ace whirled around, visibly agitated, but his features relaxed when he realized who it was. He appeared to be ready to say more but you cut him off.

“I need to talk to you.”

Ace quirked a brow, “Yeah? What’s up?”

From the expectant look he was giving you, it’s clear that he’s waiting for you to spill your guts here and now. You shook your head, “No, it’s… It’s a secret. We have to go somewhere else.” Realization flashed across his face and he nodded. Fortunately for you, he led the way. You honestly did not think you’d be able to scout out a place for this discussion. You were finally going to come clean and tell him everything before you could sober up and come to your senses.

It was going well. At least it was, until he passed out and took you down with him. You both collided onto the floor with a resounding thud, him on top of you. The hall you’d slipped into was empty, meaning there was no one here to help you.

You groaned as you attempted to move, the fall had hit you harder than it should have thanks to the copious amounts of alcohol in your system. You were also mentally kicking yourself for not seeing this coming. He was eating when you stumbled into him, of course it was only a matter of time before this happened.

Whatever, there isn’t time to be bemoaning a minor inconvenience. You manage to shimmy out from under him and use the wall to get to your feet. Ace is snoring on the floor, not a care in the world. Hopefully he’ll wake up soon.

Taking a look around, you see a door just a couple steps away. You inch your way over to it and try the knob. It clicks open, and you peer in. Looks like some sort of guest room, and it’s empty. Perfect.

Pushing the door open fully, you turn back to Ace. He’s still asleep, but you don’t want to wait around for him to wake up on his own and run the risk of being seen. You lean down to grab the closest part of him, his right foot, and pull. You’re not sure if he’s actually heavy, or if you’re just too drunk for this, but you tip over while trying to do this and fall flat on your ass.

“Huh?” Ace’s head snapped up and he looked around owlishly. The second his eyes connected with yours, he remembered what he was doing before his narcoleptic tendencies took the wheel. He laughed, a light blush on his face, as he got to his feet, “Sorry about that, you alright?”

“I’m fine, get in here,” you urged him to hurry, which he did. In the time it took you to stand again, Ace had already slipped into the room, closed the door, and flicked on a lamp so you two wouldn’t be talking in complete darkness. You eye the door for a moment, then grab a chair and drag it over to wedge it under the doorknob. Someone walking in on the conversation you were about to have would be something of a worst case scenario.

Ace watched this curiously, “Is everything okay?”

This probably looked weird, but oh well, it’s about to get a lot weirder. You decide to sit on the bed and motion for Ace to join you, which he does. You take one of his hands in both of yours and stare at him intensely, “I need to tell you something. It’s going to sound insane, but you need to promise me you won’t tell anyone about this.”

He repeated his previous question, asking again if everything was okay, but you cut him off, “Promise me, please!”

Your desperation got through to him, “Okay, I promise! What’s going on?”

Here goes nothing. You take a deep breath and take the leap, “You need to stop going after Blackbeard.”

Ace recoiled immediately, and if you hadn’t been holding onto his hand for dear life, he probably would have backed away from you. “What? I can’t do that, why would y-”

“Let me finish!” You snapped at him, only to immediately regret it. You sighed, “Please. There’s more, please let me finish talking first, and then you can talk.”

While he did not look happy about it, he did relax his shoulders and settled back into the bed. You took this as your cue to continue, “You need to stop going after Blackbeard because you will die if you do.” Ace exhaled sharply and rolled his eyes at this, assuming that this was coming from a place of fear and doubt.

“I know this because,” you took in a shuddering breath, steeling yourself for what was to come. “I know this because in the world that I came from… This world is a story.”

Ace stares at you wide eyed and slack jawed. He laughed, but was very clearly uncomfortable, “I, uh, I think you’ve had a little too much to drink tonight. How about I take you back to your room to sleep it off, okay?”

He tried to stand, but you yanked him back down, “No! I’m not drunk! Well, I mean, I am, but I know what I’m talking about! I can prove it.”

His expression was nothing short of incredulous, but he indulged you, “Yeah, okay, sure. Go ahead, prove it.”

“You’re hunting down Blackbeard because he murdered Thatch so he could steal his devil fruit,” you started light. Ace had told you about Thatch being the one he was avenging, but he’d never mentioned the devil fruit before, likely not deeming it an important enough detail. His brows knit together and his eyes drifted upwards as he racked his brain to remember if maybe he actually had said something about it.

“Before you were with Whitebeard, you were captain of the Spade Pirates. Your first member was Masked Deuce, who you met while being stranded on an island together. It’s where you found your devil fruit and built Striker,” he hadn’t told you anything in regards to his old crew, and his face reflected that. You definitely had his attention now.

“You and Luffy were raised by mountain bandits because Garp couldn’t raise you two himself. It wasn’t just you guys, though, you had another brother named Sabo, but he was killed when he tried to set sail and got shot down,” at this point, you were saying whatever came to mind with no regard to whether or not it was a good idea to say this right now. You couldn’t bring yourself to keep looking him in the eye, so you settled for staring at his hand in yours. It was completely slack.

“Your parents are Portgas D. Rouge and Gol D. R-”

Before you could finish the sentence, Ace’s free hand clamped over your mouth with such ferocity that you almost fell off the bed. Forcing yourself to make eye contact again, you see that his are blown wide and wild. The color has been drained from his face and he looked physically ill from hearing everything you just threw at him.

An extremely tense moment passed with nothing to be heard beyond his labored breathing. Then, he hesitantly let go of your face and with a shaky voice said, “Okay. I’m sorry. I believe you. What… What’s going to happen if I keep pursuing Blackbeard?”

You attempted to swallow the lump in your throat, but it refused to go away, “When you catch up with him, you’ll fight, but lose. Your powers are no match for his, you don’t stand a chance against him. After your loss, he turns you in to the marines.

“Because of who your father is, they decide to make an example out of you and sentence you to death.”

“That bastard turns me in and I get executed?” He sounds like the wind has just been knocked out of him. Disbelief and bitterness are the two most prevalent emotions in his tone, but many others brew beneath the surface.

“Not exactly,” it’s true that he gets turned in and killed, but it’s nowhere near that simple and straightforward. “Luffy comes to your rescue at Marineford, and so does Whitebeard and a lot of his crew.”

Before you could go more into detail, Ace speaks up, “They… W-Why would they do that?”

“Why would they- You have to ask?!” Your voice raises and you have to remind yourself of just how much character development he has to go through in that arc to finally realize and accept the fact that he’s genuinely loved. “Because you’re family, their family! They care about you and don’t want to see you die!”

Your outburst shocked him, but not as much as seeing you start to cry did. His hand is abandoned and you lurch forward to bring him into a suffocatingly tight hug, “Y-You are so loved, you know that? They l-love you so much! A lot of people do! I do! We all want to see you live and be happy!” You limply hang off of him as more tears bubble to the surface, greedily taking the chance to escape with every sob as you finally let out everything you’ve been keeping in. Ace makes no move to return your embrace, he just sits there stiff as a board.

“A-And, at that battle, you’re killed by Admiral Akainu while protecting Luffy. He’s devastated by it, being forced to watch you die hurts him so bad,” you cling onto him tighter upon feeling him flinch from your words. “Whitebeard dies there too.”

“What?! How could anyone kill him? That can’t be right!” You’re wrenched off Ace violently and his stare is almost as unhinged as it was when you said his parents’ names.

“Blackbeard does it,” Ace freezes at this. “That should give you an idea of how strong he is. If he can kill Whitebeard, fighting you is nothing to him. Besides, you of all people would know how hard it is to kill him,” you chuckle but it’s humorless, empty even.

A heavy stretch of silence follows after that. Ace’s eyes don’t leave your face for even a second, desperately searching for anything that would tell him that this is all one big, sick joke. But there’s nothing of the sort.

Slowly, he releases your shoulders and he shifts away from you to rest his head in his hands. Without his support, you allow yourself to fall back onto the bed. Between all the alcohol and your emotional outburst, you’re exhausted and want nothing more than to sleep. You try to force yourself to stay awake, but it feels like an insurmountable task.

“Hey, Ace?” There’s no answer, but you continue anyway, “I’m sorry. I know that was a lot. If, um… If you don’t believe me about knowing what’s going to happen, stick around until after we set sail again. Bon Clay- Mr. 2- is going to bring the Going Merry over here so that we don’t have to backtrack. Marines will be all over the place, but he sacrifices himself so that Luffy and his crew can get away. Once they’ve lost the marines, Nico Robin will reveal herself to have been hiding on the ship and joins the crew.”

Ace continues to not react to what’s being said, you’re not even sure he’s listening to you at this point. As much as you want to comfort him, your limbs feel like lead and your head is swimming. The last thing you see is the jolly roger of the Whitebeard’s staring you down as you fade into darkness.

—

Consciousness comes back to you slowly. Painfully so. Before you can even make out your surroundings, you’re assaulted by the worst headache of your life. The stabbing pain behind your eyes is crippling, all you want is to retreat back to the comfort of sleep, but you know that’s not going to happen.

It doesn’t help that your mouth is so dry that you feel like you’re back in the desert. One hand comes up to gingerly massage your eyes. The action brought more discomfort than relief, but it did clear up your sight a little.

As your senses ebb back into you, you hone in on the pressure all over your body. It takes considerable effort, but you manage to lift your head enough to take a look. Your nose is less than an inch from bumping into someone else’s. Chopper’s to be exact. He was curled up into your side and using your chest as a pillow. Looking past him, Luffy was sprawled across your lap, belly up. Both of them were still asleep.

You prop yourself up on one arm. Chopper shifts, but doesn’t wake. Off to your side is a bedside table with a glass of water on it. Oh, thank God. Using the arm you aren’t propped up with, you grab it and bring the cup to your lips. The water is divine, an absolute blessing for your dry throat.

As you enjoy your drink, your eyes glance around to observe the rest of the room. It’s the one you all have been staying in since saving Alabasta. Most of your friends are in their respective beds, except for Chopper and Luffy, obviously. Zoro was also not in his bed, instead being slumped over in a chair next to your own.

Your eyes flicker over to the massive windows of the room, and you spot Ace sitting in the windowsill. From the way he’s positioned, he appears to be awake already. Your gaze narrows as you focus on him. Something tickled at the back of your mind, demanding to be remembered. But what?

“Y-You are so loved, you know that? They l-love you so much! A lot of people do! I do! We all want to see you live and be happy!”

The water going down your throat is suddenly going out of it when you choke. Memories come back and hit you like a train as you realize what exactly it is you did last night.

Naturally, this wakes up Chopper and Luffy, who are both jolted from their once peaceful sleep by you choking on your drink. Chopper immediately starts to panic, “AH! Don’t die, (Y/N)!”

—

It was crucial that you speak to Ace again, but it seemed like the world itself was committed to making sure that didn’t happen. Ace slipped out of the room while everyone was fussing over you, and it honestly felt like he was avoiding you now. Everytime you thought you might be able to catch him alone, either he vanishes, or someone else comes out of nowhere to drag you away.

Today was the day you all set sail from Alabasta, and while that did put you in close proximity with Ace, it also put everyone else within earshot of you two. And considering the delicate nature of what you needed to talk about, that was extremely inconvenient.

The only good thing was that the events following leaving Alabasta played out exactly how they were supposed to. Hopefully that meant that Ace would believe you and give up hunting down Blackbeard, but you won’t be able to confirm that unless you speak with him.

You were so stressed that you’d barely been able to focus on Robin being here. She “introduced” herself to you as if she hadn’t had an extremely uncomfortable run in with you in an alleyway back in Rainbase, but all you could manage was a half-assed handshake before excusing yourself.

For probably the fifteenth time today, you checked to make sure that Striker was still tied to the Merry. It was, much to your relief. But where was Ace hiding? You haven’t seen him since Robin showed herself.

The stress of trying and failing to corner him was doing nothing to help with your hangover, your head felt like it was about to explode. Did you still have Advil in the bag you got isekai’d here with? Maybe. Pushing off the railing, you march to where your room is while praying that you’re right about the painkillers.

You open the door without much thought, only to stop dead in your tracks when you catch sight of Ace rummaging through your belongings and stuffing them into his backpack. The door opening did briefly make him stop and peer over his shoulder to see who it was, but the second he saw it was you, he went right back to pillaging.

“Can I help you? Why are you robbing me?” You stomp over to where he’s crouched down and shove his shoulder.

“I’m not robbing you, I’m packing for you,” Ace mumbled, sounding lost in thought.

“Why would you be packing for me? Actually, you know what? That’s the least of my concerns right now, we need to talk about last night.”

“We’ll talk about it later, not here.” He still hasn’t properly faced you, and you were getting sick of only making eye contact with his tattoo and not him.

“Where else would we talk about it?!” You hissed.

Seeming content with his work, he stood up and kicked the dresser drawer shut, “On the Striker. Or maybe the Moby Dick, I guess. I’m going back and you’re coming with me.”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing, “Excuse me?”

“I’m going back to the Moby Dick, and you’re coming with me.” Ace had finally turned to face you. His eyes were sunken and vaguely bloodshot.

The sight catches you off guard, “Did you sleep at all last night?”

He shook his head, “No, we’re going to have to stop somewhere else to sleep before going the rest of the way back home.”

“Ace, I’m not going with you. Look, I’m happy that you’re calling off your hunt, relieved honestly, but I’m staying here.” You will ideally be figuring out how to go home sometime soon, there’s no sense in hopping around from crew to crew now.

One of his eyes twitched, and he looked exasperated, “You can’t stay here. You aren’t safe here.”

“What are you-”

“Let me finish,” the words were spoken calmly, but very firm. “I don’t think you understand how serious this is. You apparently know everything about this world and what’s going to happen in it, do you have any idea what will happen to you if word gets out about this?”

“You’re the only person I’ve told, so as long as you keep your mouth shut, I’ll be fine.”

“Until you get drunk again and tell someone else, then what?” His words were just as scathing as his gaze.

Your face flushed in shame, “That won’t happen again.”

“You don’t know that!” Ace snapped at you, then sighed and dragged a hand down his face, “This is for your own good. Nothing good will come from anyone else learning about this. If it ever got back to someone like Big Mom, she would send every single one of her children after you so she could have you on her side. And that’s the nicer option. I’m sure the marines would be more than happy to kill you off so that no one else could have you if they can’t.”

Throughout this entire conversation, his face had remained uncomfortably neutral, but now it cracked. Fondness peaked through the exhaustion as his expression softened ever so slightly. He steps forwards and brings you against him in a crushing embrace. His skin is hot to the touch, effectively chasing away any chill that you may have had.

“You said you wanted to see me live, and I want to see you live, too.” The words are hushed, you wouldn’t have been able to hear him if he hadn’t been speaking right next to your ear.

Reluctantly, he pulls himself away. His face is serious again, “We’re leaving tonight, be ready to go.”

“But-”

“If you don’t come willingly, I will make you. The only thing that you resisting will accomplish is making this messier than it needs to be. Even if you don’t like this now, you will thank me for it later.”

Ace spins on his heel and heads for the door. All you can do is stand there gawking at him as he leaves. Just before the door closes behind him, he spares a glance over his shoulder to say, “I’ll see you tonight.”

#one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #yandere one piece #portgas d ace #fire fist ace #monkey d luffy #nami #cat burglar nami #one piece #sanji #black leg sanji #tony tony chopper #nico robin #roronoa zoro #platonic yandere

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weirdmarioenemies · 5 months

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Name: Blewbird Debut: Super Mario Bros. Wonder

Blewbird is weird. I mean, no duh, it's being featured on "Weird Mario Enemies," even if our blog title gets less and less fitting by the day, but I mean weirder than you'd realize by just looking at it at a glance. If you just take a quick glance at it, you might not think much of it -- just a stylized cartoon bluebird, reminiscent of The Artist Formerly Known As Twitter.

But then you look at it more closely, notice things like its black shell and brown shoes. How weirdly smooth its skin is, without even the suggestion of feathers. The fact it doesn't have wings at all. The fact these things burrow out of the ground.

Oh, and let's not forget the fact they shoot off their own beaks!

Yeah, let's not ignore the main hook of the enemy here! Blewbirds predominantly appear in the level Blewbird Roost, where they'll stand against walls and shoot out their beaks at Mario and Friends. Of course, usually their beaks end up sticking to walls across from them...

And unfurling into platforms! That's right! Blewbirds are an animal that evolved to create Platforming Challenges! Is this how they traverse all the open air in the caves they live in without wings? It's not like they can burrow everywhere!

So whatever Blewbirds are, I'm pretty sure they're not birds. Blewbirds are birds in the sense that jellyfish are fish. (A comparison I'm pretty sure I've made multiple times on the blog at this point.) But if they aren't birds, then what are they? Well, let's take another look at Blewbird without its beak...

Does it remind you of anything...?

Because it reminds me of Birdo, another character who's named after a bird for no particularly good reason whatsoever! Almost like it's all connected... But I mean, the similarities are hard to ignore -- the tube mouth optimized for shooting projectiles, the white underbelly, the weirdly smooth skin, heck, you could probably make the very bold argument that Blewbird's ponytail and Birdo's bow are connected somehow.

But wait! I'm not ending things right there, because Blewbird doesn't only have similarities to Birdo...

You see, Nintendo has connected the Birdos and Yoshis for a while now, as Mario's main Weird Dinosaur Characters, but there hasn't been an awful lot actually connecting them in-universe... until now?! For you see, I'm making the radical claim that Blewbirds are proof of a missing link species that connects the Yoshis and Birdos! Look at it! The tube mouth of Birdo. The shell and shoes of Yoshi. It's all so clear now!

Blewbirds aren't birds! They're some sort of weird dinosaur! Just like... just like... just like real birds. Hmm.

Maybe I need to rethink the point I was making with this post. Taxonomy is weird, guys.

*phone ringing*

Oh! Hold on, I need to answer that. Hello?

Hmmm... as a matter of fact, I think I am! I spent so much time talking about Yoshis and Birdos that I forgot to do this: *touches Wonder Flower to trigger Wonder Effect for the post*

During Blewbird Roost's Wonder Effect, Blewbirds will start blowing very large, very colorful bubbles! Your character can bounce on these bubbles to go *Pauline voice* ♪ High up in the sky~! ♪, but you need to be careful, since each bubble pops when you jump on it! The number of Blewbirds in the Blewbird Roost doesn't make that much of an issue, but in a Special World level where you're a Goomba who can hardly jump at all? Well... Good Luck!

That being said, this raises even more questions about Blewbird anatomy, because they blow these bubbles out of their beaks! You know, the ones they shoot off that, as far as I'm aware, aren't even part of their bodies? And in order to blow bubbles out of their beak, their mouth has been moved to the end of it! What is going on here?!

I'm not sure, but I can try to provide a relatable human analogy! Imagine if you put a Cone in your mouth, but someone nearby touched a Wonder Flower, so the Cone fused to your face and the mouth was at the end of the Cone, and you were very scared about this development so you tried to scream but only bubbles came out. We've all been there! And for the Blewbird, it's exactly like this. Hopefully now you understand!

#blewbird #weird mario enemies #super mario bros wonder #mod hooligon

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parvulous-writings · 5 months

Note

Did you get another request? It's headcanons for Astarion, Gale, and Halsin react to his shy gn crush confessing to him before running away because they're scared of being rejected. Thanks!

Okay I DID get the original request, but accidentally published it when I meant to put it in my drafts, apologies! I'd like to thank the Down By The River Music Box Version for giving me the focus I needed to do this in one sitting! XD Also these three are my BOYS I LOVE THEM

Warnings: None! (besides fluff)

Notes: My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist! Original character list - please request for these too!

Astarion

Before you even start the conversation with him about liking him, Astarion knows what this is going to be about. He just knows - he's been through this enough times to recognise that look on your face.

It's an easy conclusion to come to - to him, it's a thought of... 'who doesn't like him?' He's hardly known someone that he couldn't tempt, one way or another.

As you approach him, his lips are already curling up into that familiar sultry smile of his. He knows exactly how he wants to play this: "Well, well... If it isn't my favourite travelling companion... What brings you to my tent, my dear?"

You feel your cheeks burn as soon as he opens his mouth, your gaze casting aside as the words hit your ears. He always seems to know how to take someone's breath away.

You blurt out your confession as fast as your lips can manage, nothing more than a mash of words, hardly understandable - but Astarion understands with ease. He's been through this a lot, he knows the dance all too well. Before he can let a chuckle leave his throat, you're gone, leaving naught but a cloud of dust in your wake.

Nevertheless, had you been within earshot of the elf, you would have heard a rather dry laugh from his lips. To have someone turn tail from him, it's new. Something about the situation speaks to him though - it shows that, even after he's seen two hundred years of nothing but shadows and debauchery, there's still innocence in the realms. And he sees that it lives on in you. It's almost... endearing to him. Almost. Unfortunately it takes a lot to make his undead heart stir, anymore.

Unlike most, Astarion doesn't chase after you - he doesn't even consider it. In his past, he's never been one to chase after someone who likes him, he's always a magnet for them. He stays comfortably in his tent, eagerly awaiting your return. He knows you will, no matter how shy you are, or how long it takes.

Such a sweet thing... I'm sure they'll come around to speaking more openly eventually. Astarion's thoughts echo all that he knows from his past - one way or another, those who are charmed by him come back; though, he must admit, he does quite like the idea of playing this little game with you, whether you realise you are playing or not.

Gale

Gale doesn't really label your timid nature or actions as 'shyness', he sees it much more as an air or aura of mystique about you - which he absolutely loves. His scholarly instinct tells him to dive in, to explore all there is about you, and to uncover all of your mysteries. However, he knows you are your own person - if you wish to tell him any secrets you have, he's going to let you do so mostly at your own pace, only nudging or prompting once or twice.

When you approach him one evening, he's so over the moon to tell you about something he's recently figured out, relating to a problem you've been trying to solve outside of camp, that he doesn't initially notice the rather skittish demeanour you've adopted. He's so quick to launch into his little pre-planned speech that he hardly notices you talking to him, until you've already run halfway back to your own tent.

Gale just... Stands there, in stunned - almost offended - silence. Had he done something? Was it his recent discovery? Had he launched into it too quickly - given you too much information all at once? All these thoughts go through his head one after the other. He hadn't even caught what you had said, and that worried him the most: He had no clue whatsoever what you had said to him.

So it isn't long before he's practically marching towards your tent - determination in his eyes. He will find out what you had tried to tell him. He clears his throat to get your attention when he gets close enough, folding his arms over his chest in a rather defensive position. "I suppose you have a reason for running off like that whilst speaking to me?" He questions, quite tensely. As you begin to shakily explain your feelings for him, his arms drop to his sides again.

He's very pleasantly surprised to learn that the only reason you ran off mid-conversation was due to embarrassment, rather than anything that he had done. He would hardly have been able to live with himself if that particular question had gone unanswered. So, he settles himself down in front of you. "Alright.. How about we try this again... With you having my full attention this time?"

Halsin

Halsin could tell by the look on your face that whatever you wanted to tell him, it was important. Of course, true to his nature, he wasn't about to force it out of you - he's much more content for you to take your time in telling him.

So, he just sits with you, in a peaceful silence, waiting for you to work up your courage to ask him. And when you finally do, Halsin can't say he's shocked by the words - it's not always easy to hide attraction or love from someone who's been alive for over three centuries. What does surprise him, however, is the fact that you're so quick to flee the encounter. Though, he finds it quite sweet that you, unlike him, still have embarassment hinging around socialising - particularly when it is centering around matters of the heart. He doesn't think any less of you for it, a skill like that takes years of practice, and he's had three hundred and fifty years to hone this skill of his.

Throughout all his life, and his many lovers, this kind of thing has happened to him only a handful of times, so it still catches him off-guard most of the time. Thankfully, he knows how to handle the situation.

He gives you some time to yourself, allowing you to collect your thoughts. He knows that if he tries to approach you too quickly, you may become more frazzled, spiral more in your mind. And that is the last thing he wants. If you two are to be with one another - which he hopes is the outcome of the situation - he wants you to have a clear head, and know what you want.

When he does decide it's the right time to go to you, the first thing he does, is ask if you are alright. "How are you faring, my heart?" He takes a chance with the nickname, and he can just about see with the way your head whips round to look at him that he's certainly caught your attention. "You seemed... Out of yourself, before. Perhaps you would like to discuss it?" He moves to sit with you then, and even as he kneels , he towers over most. "At your own pace, of course..." He offers you a smile. It's a kindhearted smile - one that you can tell is straight from his heart. You feel a little more comfortable, and though it is a slow conversation, you get there before dawn.

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projecttreehouse · 2 years

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how to write relatable characters

writing relatable characters may seem like an easy task, especially when you’re constructing your protagonist. but what if you want to make your antagonist likeable? what if you want people to hate your protagonist but still root for them? all of this and more requires that your characters be relatable. they need to feel real, so how do you do that? here’s how:

- flaws: this is probably obvious. everyone has flaws, so we should give our characters flaws, too. this applies even if your character is non-human; they cannot escape the personification that we as writers or readers project onto them. we are humans reading, so we expect to see human qualities everywhere we look. if you’re having trouble of identifying your character’s flaws, here are some prompts for ways to think about flaws beyond a list:

what skills do they lack? what do they struggle with?

can their strengths be turned against them as a weakness?

what makes them react emotionally or impulsively?

are they aware of their flaws? if so, do they want to improve them or change them?

- quirks: these are what make your character unique or special, and no, i don’t mean purple eyes or unique physical traits. i mean: what makes your character authentically themselves? what traits define them that few others have? some ways to think about this are:

how do they react when nervous? do they have a tell? similarly, how do they react on behalf of any emotion?

what skills do they have that hardly anyone else has?

what obscure thing are they obsessed with?

do they have a unique outlook on life compared to their peers?

- values: these come from life experiences: where we were raised, our family and friends, our community, religious affiliations, etc. i suggest identifying eight to ten values that define your character and then narrowing that list down to five values that mark their core or essence. think about how these values influence their choices, decisions, and ultimately, the plot of the novel. here are some more prompts to think about values:

how do they react when their values are challenged? are they one to speak up or do they sit back in the shadows?

what, if anything, will change or shatter their values?

are their actual values misaligned with their believed values?

- stakes: what is at risk for your character? what is motivating them? stakes don’t need to be over the top or life or death; they can be as simple as maintaining a relationship or reaching a goal. unless there’s an outside influence (ie. percy’s mother being kidnapped in The Lightning Thief), most stakes—especially those relatable—tie back to values. even those influenced by outside factors can tie back to values: the only reason percy is motivated to get his mother back is because he cares for her and she is the one person who has always advocated for him and cared for him. he values family and riordan uses his family to motivate him and incite the plot. generally, there will be one overarching stake for your character, but throughout your novel, there should be several smaller stakes. these may not service the plot but should elaborate on your character nonetheless. some ways to think about stakes include:

how can i use internal or external factors to create convincing, relatable stakes that tie back to basic values?

why does the overarching stake matter to my character? why do they care?

how can i raise the stakes or introduce new ones that are relevant to my character and illustrate them as a relatable being?

- connection: even if your character is an introvert, they will still be connected to someone, something, or even an idea. we, as humans, look to certain people, pets, objects, and ideas to maintain our sense of reality whether we realize it or not. if your character prides themselves in having no attachments, think about the ideas or themes that mark the cornerstones of their reality. most human beings strive for some form of connection, so here are more prompts for thinking about your characters and connection:

what does connection mean to my character? how do they show how they value their connections or relationships?

how does my character’s behavior change when around different connections?

what connections define my character and their reality? how will these connections influence my character and/or the plot?

how will removing or challenging a connection change, influence, or motivate my character?

a good rule of thumb is to treat a character as a human, not a plot device. there is a time or place in which a character must act as a plot device, but if you’re wanting your readers to be compelled by your narration and the characters within them, you should strive to write your characters as human (aka as relatable). one of the greatest pleasures i find in writing is when other’s identify themselves in my writing.

you’re not just here to tell a story, you’re here to connect with others through the illustration of your characters. let the reader navigate your prose as a detective, to search for and identify the evidence provided by you. that is to say, show us how these things manifest in your character. don’t tell us.

happy writing! hopefully this post gave you some ways to start thinking about how to show the relatability of your character. if you have any questions about implementing these tools or about writing characters, our ask box is always open.

#writing tips #writing advice #writing help #story writing #novel writing #nanowrimo #writing #write it #writeblr #writers of tumblr #creative writing #books and novels #writers block #character development #writers on tumblr #writing prompts #writing tools #fiction writing #indie writing

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artemismoorea03 · 4 months

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DP x DC Prompt: I Couldn't Just Let Him Die

So one thing I don't think is touched on enough is the fact that Danny never wanted to be a hero. Like, yeah, we all know he didn't want o be a hero and he makes a joke about it but when we actually think about it this was a life he choose because nobody else was there to help. The main reason?

He didn't want people to get hurt.

Something Batman would relate to.

Now, while I love the idea of Danny absolutely beating the shit out of Joker or any villain who absolutely deserves to have their shit rocked by a kid who is only 5'5" and weighs at most 120 pounds, when we actually think about Danny's character what's more likely? Again, no hate to any of the people who do those fics, keep it up, I love seeing Joker get his just deserts.

But hear me out.

Warnings for fighting, violence, and DC typical weapons.

There was a new meta in Gotham and he was driving Bruce crazy. This kid showed up out of the blue with absolutely no information on him anywhere online or otherwise with tech so outdated not even Oracle could hack it. The only thing Bruce knew about the kid was that he called himself 'Phantom' and that he was a teenager around 14 years old.

Other than that the kid had been a pain in the ass.

Muggings? Phantom took care of it by saving the person then lecturing the person until a Bat or police showed up then literally vanished.

Fires? Phantom would fly in and out of burning buildings repeatedly with no care for his own safety. No mask, no fire protection, nothing but the thin suit he wore.

Kidnappings? Don't worry, Phantom had it handled long before Batman could even get the call to help! EVEN WHEN IT WAS ONE OF HIS OWN KIDS WHO GOT KIDNAPPED!

Granted, Phantom never got in the way of a fight but the amount of evidence that was lost due to what he was doing and how he was doing it was inconvenient. Fingerprints got wiped, evidence of what started fires were covered in an unmeltable ice, kidnappers took off the second their captive was freed and were practically untraceable after that.

It wasn't until a massive Arkham breakout that he actually got to properly meet the kid. Every prisoner had broken out and the city plunged into madness as heroes ran around like chickens with their heads cut off. Villains against heroes, criminals verse vigilantes, villains verses criminals - it was a madhouse.

Batman could hardly keep track of it all but when one of Penguin's men threw a bomb into a crowd and it landed near Joker's feet there was a long silence. It was like the city had fallen silent all around him as Batman tried to get to the bomb.

Joker was a villain.

Joker had hurt his family, killed millions of innocents including his own son, but he was sick. He didn't deserve to die.

Apparently Phantom agreed because he flew faster than Batman could track him shoving Joker away from the bomb before encasing the bomb in ice.

"Hey! What's the big idea shovin' me, bub?!" Joker said, seemingly forgetting about the bomb that was still in the kids hand. Joker walked right up to Phantom, glaring down at the shorter male who just looked at him. "Think you're some kind of hero?!"

Phantom blinked, "I feel like answering that is a trap."

Joker grabbed Phantom by the front of his shirt, "A funny guy, huh? Think you can out joke the Joker?"

"Again. That feels like a trap. I'm not trying to do anything, Clowny. But I wasn't about to let you die."

Joker glared, "Why?"

Phantom slipped out of Joker's hands somehow, much to Joker's confusion. "Because that's not who I am. Criminal or not, I'm not going to let you die if I can protect you."

"Who says I need protection?"

Phantom held up the bomb again with a deadpan look. "Lucky guess." He said, then suddenly noticed something to his right. "Oh, gotta go. Later Clowny."

"IT'S JOKER!" Joker shouted after Phantom as he flew away. "Batman! Teach your baby bats some manners!"

"He's not mine, Joker." Batman said, marching over, grabbing Joker's wrists and cuffing them behind his back.

Not yet anyway. But with a mentality like that... maybe this pain in the ass could learn a thing or two from a Bat.

#dp x dc prompt #my prompts #dc x dp prompt

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larkingame · 8 months

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[[public demo out June 14th, 2024]] | patreon

someone is after you.

for over a decade and a half now, you’ve traveled up, down and across the country--running schemes and hunting fiends with your mentor, con-man-by-day, vampire-hunter-by-night, Wyatt Abrams--the prolific vampire slayer and the living descendant of Gregory Abrams, founder and prophet of the Abrams Family, the nomadic vampire-hunting cult that raised you--and was wiped out years ago.

carrying the abrams name means also means carrying on it's enemies--but that isn't to say you haven't forged a couple of your own along the way. now, it seems someone is trying to make good on old threats and promises. they've placed a bounty on your head.

so you and wyatt do what you do best: you run away. to some little town, out nevada ways, where the title of town preacher is unexpectedly thrust upon you--bringing back years of trauma you thought long tucked away.

as if that wasn't enough, on your first day in town the local mine up and explodes--leaving the reclusive family that runs the town--and owns the mine--to suspect you as the main culprit.

now you're left with the responsibility of investigating the disaster to clear your name, looking into the mysterious cult just south of town, the gang of outlaws who've been wrapped up deep in a feud with larkin's patriarchal family--a group of people which you suspect to be hiding a secret most monstrous--all while dealing with the ghosts of your past, and the roots your family left behind.

larkin is a vampire western choose-your-own adventure game, with focuses on romance, religion, horror and complicated family dynamics.

play a fully customizable character [[decide upon their physical appearance, gender identity, sexuality, customize their pronouns]]

dictate a unique relationship with your mentor-turned-father-figure and his former appentice

romance any of ten characters, four male, three female, one non-binary and two gender selectable characters.

define your characters skillset and scheming tactics, select their weapons and fighting style, elect their feelings on religion, vampires and the cult that raised them.

the doctor [male] cyrus sokolov - the quasi-mayor of larkin, cyrus sokolov also operates as the town's doctor and mortician. he's immeadiately suspicious of you, the new preacher and the reputation you comes with. even though he doesn't like it, he needs your help.

the princess [female] celina sokolova - despite the misconceptions among the townsfolk, the reclusive third sibling of the sokolov family, celina, is actually the family’s eldest. hardly leaving the sokolov mansion, it’s rumored around town that she’s been struck with some sort of sun-related illness, others seem to hold the opinion that miss sokolova simply sees herself as too good to linger amongst the common folk. whatever the case may truly be doesn’t much matter to the people of larkin, after all, it's much more fun to gossip. she's very suddenly developed a fascination with the preacher, a hunger almost. but will she eat you whole?

the mortician's assistant [male] dominic sokolov - the youngest scion of the sokolov family, dominic works as assistant mortician in larkin, though he’s much more interested in larkin’s living townsfolk then the dead ones he’s been charged with taking care of. with seemingly endless information on everyone and everything that goes on in larkin, mister sokolov might not be the worst friend to have.

the lawyer [male] jacob nash - larkin’s only practicing attorney and resident do-gooder. after passing the bar exam, nash headed out west in the hopes of making a real difference for the people there, only to spend most of his days settling petty disputes and notarizing documents. despite his disappointment, however, nash has managed to keep a level head and his fondness for the people of larkin, even though he’s not so sure the sokolovs have the townsfolk’s best interest in mind.

the bartender [female] rose holloway - larkin’s most recent transplant, that was, until the preacher showed up. former city-girl, rose has adapted to both life out west and on her own, the only way she knows how--by pushing through it. the owner and bartender of larkin’s only saloon, the emerald, rose is a popular figure around larkin whether she likes it or not, but whether that has more to do with her occupation or the fact she also happens to be larkin’s youngest widow is still a topic up for debate.

the lieutenant [male/female/non-binary] hollis - an enigmatic figure around larkin, hollis serves as a lieutenant for the mysterious rateliff fellowship. one of the cult’s few members to make the long trek from their encampment in the desert to town more than once. talked to by few, hated by most, hollis bears the reputation of the people they represent to the town of larkin--one, that isn’t particularly favorable.

the vampire hunter [male/female/non-binary] ace zhang - vampire-hunting-mercenary extraordinaire, the last the preacher knew of ace, they were the young hot-shot on san francisco’s hunting scene. once upon a time ace was a prominent figure in the preacher’s life, the first real acquaintance they managed to make on their own, someone outside of wyatt’s sphere. growing up a member of the guild, their life is one that’s mirrored the preacher’s. maybe that’s why the two seemed to be linked so closely during the preacher’s time in california, whether that was as friends, rivals or something more, their presence is one that remains prominent in the preacher's mind.

the outlaw [male] cassidy alan ward - cowboy, outlaw, bandit, cassidy goes by many names and titles, but the one he prides himself on most is leader. protector of his people, the ward gang hides out somewhere in the hills outside larkin, looming over the townsfolk as an ever-present threat, cassidy finds the sokolovs personally responsible for the death of his sister, caroline, and he is out for blood.

the gunslinger [female] ethel jackson - cassidy's right hand, ethel is a gunslinger through and through. fancying herself the robinhood type, she's got a personal hatred for the family that looms over larkin. with the fastest gun in all of nevada, maybe even all of the west--ethel could prove to be a valuable friend--or a deadly adversary.

the stranger [non-binary] reyes - the newest addition to ward's gang, not much is known about them or their past--what everyone is well aware of, however, is the fact that nobody whose ever decided to cross reyes has ever come out of it alive.

the vampire [male/female/non-binary] montero moreau - you've hunted down their coven, debilitating any hopes for growth they had in terms of advancing in the cut-throat world of Vampires. you've made montero look like a fool, and they hate looking like a fool. They're determined to hunt you down and take revenge.

the first man [male] - adam - he believes himself to be the mirrored man mentioned in the abrams family book of genesis--the first vampire, plagued to walk the earth--and he has long been in search of his eve.

[[demo out june 14th 2024]] | patreon | itch.io

#larkin if #interactive fiction #games #vampires #cowboys #if #text based game #choose your own adventure #vampire romance #cowboy romance #text adventure #twine #twine game #twine interactive fiction

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neteyamsyawntu · 8 months

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Kinktober 01

H a n d j o b

Neteyam x StepSis!Reader PART 1

✨Friendly Disclaimer: The content of this story contains aged-up characters! If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, please feel free to click or scroll away. The last thing I want is for anyone to read something they are uncomfortable with, however if you decide to interact with any negativity, you will be blocked from my blog as a result.

Warnings: 🔞MINORS DNI🔞, maturation, stepcest, vulgar language, mention of both ruts and heats, Neteyam in rut, dirty talk

A light wind blew through the lush trees of Pandora, the thick familiar scent of the forest filling your nostrils as you sat on your knees, fingers masterfully plucking through thick foliage in search of materials that would be later used for herbs. You were quite good at finding new remedies for just about everything, your grandmother, Mo'at, was quite impressed by your natural knowledge of the forest’s gifts. Of course she wasn’t truly your grandmother; Jake and Neytiri had adopted you when your parents had met their unfortunate fate during an RDA attack. At the time you were only 9 years of age, but you could still see their faces so clearly in your mind. It was hard not to miss them everyday, yet as time went on it progressively got easier, especially with the help of your new family.

Kiri had been one of your close friends even before the accident, so you were very much familiar with the family as a whole. When Jake had announced to them that they would be taking you in, you were more than welcomed in with open arms. Neteyam interestingly enough had already asserted himself as a type of guardian for you. In the early days, you would creep out of the Sully’s tent at night while the rest of the family was sound asleep, just to have some time to yourself. A young Neteyam would be awoken to the sound of your soft sobbing and quickly move out of the tent himself to cautiously seat himself beside you. At first not many words would be exchanged, but his company was welcomed, and soon it almost became a ritual for the two of you to sneak out at night just to talk. Although Neteyam wasn’t necessarily fond of breaking rules he made an exception for you, knowing that these meetings were slowly healing you in a way. Sharing this time with him always brought a flutter to your stomach, yet you figured it was just your body’s way of showing how much his company made you feel safe. Yet as you got older these flutters began to appear more frequently.

It was almost as if when you looked at Neteyam, it was always through someone else’s eyes. Like every detail as he grew was now presented as new and exciting, and you could hardly keep your eyes off him. It wasn’t until your first heat at 17 years of age that you truly knew what that flutter meant. When all you could think about was him as you ground your aching cunt into the mossy tree branch below you. The idea of him touching you, soothing you through your heat made your body shiver with longing, yet in your mind you couldn’t help, but feel guilty having these fantasies about your own brother, even if you weren’t related by blood. After this revelation you couldn’t help, but feel a tinge of awkwardness when you were around him, yet you tried to remain as neutral as possible, as if nothing had happened. As if you didn’t use the thought of Neteyam to get you off when your body most craved physical affection. A task that would soon become difficult as time went on, which is when you took it upon yourself to do chores for Mo’at to busy yourself.

At this point you had been out in the forest for about an hour, collecting variants of plants and herbs. Dropping the plant into your hand-woven basket, a familiar scent made your tail and ears flick with intrigue. The same musky scent you had found comfort in all those nights ago as a child. The smell of tree bark mixed with a sort of sweet wet dew. Your eyes wandered around at your surroundings before taking a more intentional sniff at the air to find the direction it was coming from. Just as you locked onto the destination of the scent, your eyes caught a glimpse of Neteyam’s back disappearing behind a thick trunk of a tree in the distance. Had he not noticed you were there as well? Curiosity peaked your mind at his purpose for being out here on his own. A solo hunt perhaps? With a mischievous smirk slowly growing across your face, your body acted just as quickly as your mind, finding the closest tree to yourself and climbing up its lengths through a couple layers of branches before stealthily making your way toward the unsuspecting Neteyam. Carefully, you perched yourself on a branch adjacent from where he stood, your body mostly covered by the leaves of the tree if he decided to look up.

You watched carefully as Neteyam leaned his back against the rough bark with a loud huff. He was panting as if he had been running for hours. Had he been running? Your mind felt fuzzy as a new wave of his scent washed over you. Something about it was…different. The usual notes were there, but they seemed stronger, more intense. Your jaw flexes giving a discreet sniff at the air once more trying to put your finger on that foreign note in his scent. It was a strange mix between sweat and the hot surface of a stone that had been basking in the sun's light for eternity. This scent was not anything you had associated with Neteyam before, it made your brows pinch in the center of your forehead. A raspy groan took you out of your thoughts as you focused back on the man below you. His chest was heaving with heavy breaths, his pants breaking into strained growls. You watched carefully as his hand trailed down the length of his abs, his fingertips skimming over the fabric at the hem of his loincloth. That’s when your gaze was directed slightly below his hand, the sight making your eyes widen, a gasp getting caught in your throat as you quickly bit your lip before it could escape.

Your wide eyes landed on the painfully obvious bulge in his loincloth. Your heart hammering against your rib cage as you witnessed Neteyam’s hand travel over the length of his tewng, cupping his erection, a strained hiss emerged from his throat as he slowly began to massage it through the thin fabric, his head leaning back, eyes fluttering closed for a moment in attempts to steady his breathing and soothe his discomfort. “Wiya…” he grumbled the curse to himself as he quickly became fed up with his own feeble attempts at calming himself. You should’ve been long gone by this point. Neteyam had clearly come out here for privacy and there you were gawking at him while he touched himself, this wasn’t right. You shifted to make your leave when then his scent washed over you again. Being this close to him somehow made it all the more intense, you could’ve sworn your knees would buckle if you weren’t already in a crouched position. That’s when the realization hit you. The new note in his scent was a sign of his rut. Your eyes gandered back down toward the scene below just as Neteyam let out a desperate groan. He sounded as if he was in pain.

You remember how painful your last heat was as you watched Neteyam struggle to calm himself, his breaths becoming more ragged by the second. Then a sudden thought dawned on you… perhaps… no it was a terrible idea…,but what if he didn’t have to spend his rut alone? What if you could help him? Would he even accept the help if you offered it to him? Or would doing so simply out yourself for being a pervert and ruin your relationship with your step brother forever? You tried to convince yourself that however that scenario went, would not end in a positive outcome, yet as you tried to make a second attempt at fleeing the scene, the mix of his intense pheromones and the distant sound of his needy groans as Neteyam palmed himself brought back that familiar flutter in your stomach. You could’ve sworn it even made your cunt ache for a moment. You release a soft hiss in disapproval at your own body’s reaction as you came to the consensus that simply leaving wasn’t going to be as easy as you had planned.

Carefully you made your way down the tree you were perched on dropping to your feet with a soft thud. Neteyam’s head snapped in the direction of the noise, his eyes widening slightly in his dazed and frustrated expression, taking in the sight of you as you straightened your stance, palms facing out at your sides as if to show you were no threat, which of course Neteyam already knew. “Teyam?” You spoke in a soft tone as you cautiously made your way over to him, taking small and discrete tip toeing steps as you studied his movements carefully, scared that he may pounce at any moment with the way his eyes bore into you. “Y-Y/N how did you- rrrg you should not be here right now. It is not safe for you” Neteyam spat quickly, stumbling over his own words as he continued to massage the bulge beneath his loincloth. “Shh, shh, shh I know, I know… it’s just…” your words trail off as your eyes fall between his legs once more, the sight alone enough to make your knees weak. “It looks painful… under your tewng.”.

Neteyam’s eyes narrowed on you slightly before falling back to watching his own hand go to work, futilely rubbing at himself, “It hurts- it hurts so bad Y/N…” Neteyam admits in a rough whimper, “I can’t… haah-“, “Shhh it’s alright, Nete. Let me… let me help you” you coo comfortingly to him as you finally step to stand in front of him, your eyes locked on his. So many emotions were pouring out of him all at once; desire, longing, frustration, desperation, it made you pity him to see him in such a state. “I can’t allow that. I am not myself right now…” Neteyam paused as he let out a low groan, palming himself with more motivation as your scent wafted into his nostrils, “I cannot promise your safety while I am in this state… please”. As much as you knew it was wise to heed his warning, your mind was already made up, and the arousal moistening your folds beneath your own loincloth only motivated you to stay all the more.

“You won’t hurt me, tsmukan. Let me make the pain go away…” you whisper softly him, slowly bringing your hand up to cup over his own, causing his breath to hitch at the contact, letting a barely audible curse fall from his lips as his eyes pinched closed, trying to hold back his instinctual urges as much as he could, yet allowing you to continue touching him, “There you go…” you hum as his hand falls to his side to grip at the rough bark behind him. The feeling of your hand brought a new sensation to his loins. It was almost addicting as he absentmindedly bucked his hips into your hand as you stroked him, “M-more.. Please, it is not enough.”. Blinking at his sudden eagerness you breathlessly nod, wrapping your hands around his waist to behind untying his loincloth. Neteyam released another needy groan, closing the distance between the two of you as he rested his forehead against your shoulder, inhaling your scent with earnest. His body felt hot against your own, that same hot, wet stone smell wafting back into your own nose, making your mind go dizzy for a moment, as your fingers fumble with the knot of his garment, your thighs absentmindedly squeezing themselves together as another prominent flutter in your stomach presented itself.

“You smell so good, yawne… not just here-“ Neteyam purred, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, his lips ever so slightly grazing across your sensitive skin there, “-,but here too…” Neteyam’s tone shifts into a low growl as his hands move down to roughly cup your ass, massaging and spreading your cheeks apart to allow the scent of your arousal to escape the confines of your closed thighs, releasing a shaky sigh as the smell made its way into his nostrils. “Y-yawne?” You echo the pet name that he had used, taken aback at his boldness to even use it with you, “Yes… my yawne… all mine” he growled into your ear, as his grip on your ass tightened causing you to let out a slight yelp. Bringing your focus back to the task at hand you quickly undo the knot in his loincloth, pulling it away from his pelvis as the garment fell loosely into your grasp, letting it fall to the ground beside you.

Neteyam lets out a rumbling hum as he watches you take in the view of his bare torso, a small smirk playing on his features. “I uh… I’m not sure what to do now…” you admit a little hesitantly, a warm blush painting itself across your cheeks as you avert your gaze back up to his own. Neteyam merely chuckled with a slight shake in his head. Of course you’ve never done anything like this before, with no prior knowledge on how to please a man. “Oh ma yawntutsyìp… so eager to please your tsmukan when you hardly have an idea of how… so cute” Carefully Neteyam reaches out for your hand, taking it in his. His palm is clammy and warm as it guides your own to the base of his shaft, licking his lips as your fingers brush against his cock, “Do not be embarrassed, I will show you. Now… wrap your fingers around it like this…” he instructs in a low hum, wrapping his hand tightly around your own as you close your hand around his cock, feeling it’s true weight in your hand, a strained “mmmn” vibrating his chest as you give him a small experimental squeeze. “Good… now follow my movement, yawne.”, holding your hand firmly in his own, Neteyam slowly guides your hand up his shaft, his eyelids fluttering as his lips begin to tremble slightly, a shaky exhale escaping through his nose just as you reach his tip. “F-fuuck..” He mutters under his breath, before sliding your hand back down to its original position at his base.

The moan that fell from his lips sent a shiver up your spine, your ears flicking in satisfaction as it echoed in your head, eager to repeat the movement to hear it again. Without his guidance this time, you drag your hand up his shaft and carefully bring it back down, adding a bit more pressure to your grip as you do. His hips almost immediately buck into your hand, caught off guard by your boldness, letting out another needy moan into the crook of your neck, “Did that feel good, ma tsmukan?” You purr teasingly in a innocent tone, “Y-yes… mmn good girl, just like that” he groans breathily, guiding your hand with three more slighter faster pumps before letting you take over completely, his head falling back against the tree behind him as you continue to stroke his cock, his hips greedily jerking to meet your hand with every few pumps. “Ahhh~ oh fuck yes… you’re doing such a good job for me, yawntutsyìp… feels so good…”. His words only made you work your hand more passionately, pumping his cock faster until his hips were stuttering, bottom lip sucked between his teeth with a mixture of needy moans and whimpers escaping his throat. You couldn’t deny that seeing him like this was making your body react in strange ways.

You release a low hum in response to one of his moans as you feel the sensation of your slick beginning to drip down your inner thigh. Your body felt as if it was climbing to match Neteyam’s own temperature, you were nearly panting yourself, leaning forward to find the place at Neteyam’s collarbone, where his pheromones seemed to pool the strongest, your tail curling hungrily at the smell. “Hmm you naughty little thing, getting hot and bothered off of your tsmukan’s pheromones…” Neteyam growls almost hypnotically into your ear, “I can smell you, yawne…ahh~. I can tell how much you are enjoying this. If we were related by blood, my pheromones would disgust you…but instead they draw you in… they make you want me the same way I want you…” Neteyam’s tone was as low as rumbling thunder in your ear. His growls were becoming louder and his hands more possessive as he gripped your hip roughly with one and sliding the other under your beaded top to knead at your breast. Your breath hitched in as his calloused fingers groped your bosom, fingers shifting between massaging the mound of flesh to tweaking your nipple between his fingers. The sensation made your back arch into him, letting out a trembling whimper, his words making your head spin as you tried to stay focused on making him feel good rather than yourself. The thought almost just as quickly was overshadowed when Neteyam brushes his lips along the skin of your neck before placing an experiential peck along your jugular. When the action causes you to gasp, Neteyam’s lips fold into a smirk, before pressing his lips more firmly against the same spot, this time coaxing out a soft whine from you, making his loins burn with want, “Such a pretty noise… do it again, yawne.” He whispers to you softly as his lips part just enough for you to feel the wetness of his mouth on your skin, teeth lightly poking at your neck as he begins to suck on the same spot, earning a breathy moan from you in response, his tail flicking in approval behind him.

It was now almost too hard to focus, your mind was preoccupied on savoring the feeling of his lips against your neck that the hand you have wrapped around his cock begins to loosen slightly and slow down. Completely lost in your own world, a sudden smack on the ass brings you back to reality with a yelp, “I didn’t say you could stop… Keep going.” Neteyam growls, giving your breast a firm squeeze to give you that extra bit of motivation. Your ears flat against your head in submission as you slowly nod, you begin to climb back up to your previous pace, pumping him with just enough pressure to make your step brother moan his hot breath into your neck. He was getting close, you could tell by the way his lips trembled against your neck, how his grip on your body was bordering bruising, fighting desperately to stay in control of his instincts, and yet he was losing. “Wa- haah… I want to be inside you so badly. Want you to take my dick like a good girl while I fuck you full of my cum…” he moans into your neck, pulling your body close enough to where the tip of his cock brushes against the smooth skin of your stomach everytime you pump him. “T-Teyam you shouldn’t talk like that.” You whine, now feeling his cock begin to twitch in your palm. “Why not? Is my offer too tempting? Are you imagining it, yawntutsyìp? Are you imagining yourself being fucked dumb on my cock, feeling me all the way up here in your womb?” Neteyam teases with a cocky smirk as he presses his palm against your lower abdomen. Your body trembles as his words begin to paint pictures in your mind. Your thighs pressing together once again, now mentally praying for a bit of friction between them.

“Look at you… so fucking needy for me…ahh!” Neteyam is suddenly cut off by your hand now jerking his cock mercilessly, working beads of precome out of his tip that slowly roll down your knuckles, his chest is heaving faster than it had been earlier, his eyes closing tightly, mouth falling open with ragged breaths and groans. With a shivering hand, Neteyam sheepishly holds your wrist as his cock begins to twitch more greedily, so close to bursting his hot seed into your hand, “Ohh- Y-Y/N,… Y/N slow down I’m gonna-.. oh shiiit!” Neteyam groans as ropes of cum spill from his tip, yet you don’t let up, continuing to stroke him until he’s run dry, his voice weak and nearly audible, tail curling and swatting in retaliation. Finally tightening his grip on your wrist, he tears your restless hand away from his cock, panting heavily as his gaze bores into you, eyes heavy lidded, pupils heavily dilated. Without a word, Neteyam’s eyes shift from your own to your now sticky hand, slowly bringing it up to your lips, “Go ahead… clean yourself.” He orders in a ragged growl. Your brows raise for a moment at the realization of what he was asking you to do, but there was something about the look in his eyes, as if he were testing you, and you’d be damned if you let him get the upper hand. With a slight gulp you part your lips, letting your tongue first slide across his hand that held your own, eyes locked on his as your trail your tongue to lick up the salty substance from your own hand. Neteyam’s satisfied growl echoing in your ears as you watched you eagerly devour his cum, all while enjoying the show you were putting on for him.

“Mmm fuck, yawne… such a little tease..” he purrs shoving your hand away from your mouth to capture your lips hungrily, his tongue eagerly shoving its way into your mouth, petting your tongue with his own. Your eyes are wide as you process the action, but quickly melt into the kiss, moaning into his mouth and wrapping your arms around his neck to pull you against him, noting his already stiffening cock pressing against your thigh. A trail of saliva connects your mouths as Neteyam pulls away for air, your own mouth eagerly following in search of his own once again, yet Neteyam merely chuckled and leans in to place a tender kiss on your forehead, “Do not worry, yawne, you’ll get as many kisses as you want… but first…” slowly Neteyam lowers himself to his knees in front of you, his fingers caressing the sides of your thighs as he nuzzles your lower abdomen gently, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he takes in the smell of your dripping cunt, hiding behind your loincloth, before shifting his head to stare up at you, his eyes almost seem to shift in color for a moment as he drags the flat of his tongue along your soft belly, “…I want to taste you…”

Tag list: @pandoraslxna @dvxsja @jakexneytiri @blue-slxt @neteyamsoare@tiredmamaissy, @neteyamsikran @oceanstar19 @hadesbabygurl @xylianasblog @neteyamssyulang @anonymousailurophile @netyamstruelove @eyrina-avatar @justcaptiannoodles

#avatar #avatar the way of water #neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam smut #avatar twow #avatarsmut #neteyam sully smut #neteyam x reader #stepbro!Neteyam #tw stepcest #lunaskinktober2023

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schrodinger-swriter · 3 months

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I know i disappeared for a while but im back and my brain is stuck on the idea of winged characters with a reader whos afraid of heights, i know you take up to 4 characters at a time so could you try this with, adam, lucifer, lute, and husk if thats alright? feel free to ignore :]

-🎸

Adam, Lucifer, Lute and Husk x Reader who is afraid of heights

As this is the first post to contain more than four characters, I'm unsure of how long this will actually end up being... though I hope you enjoy, Anon!

LUCIFER:

He's fairly respectful of your discomforts, opting to not carry you off unless it is absolutely necessary. As in.. unless he needs to scoop you up to get you out of trouble, he's going to keep your feet firmly planted on the ground. The only time he may slip up is if he rushes at you and twirls you around with him in the air... in a hug, slightly taking you off the ground in a moment of excitement for one reason or another. Though, that hardly counts as flying, does it? Very giggly, though he does put you down as soon as you start stiffening, mumbling out apologies.. I do think at some point he might try to help you face your fear so he can show you things.

ADAM:

I would like to take a moment to apologize to the Adam fans, but I do think he would be a douchebag. Either he would downplay it or he would think you being scared of heights is.. rather pathetic. Bonus if you have wings yourself. Now does he go out of his way to make you shake in fear and lock up? No, but sometimes he does tease you about it, kind of egging you on to join him if you have wings yourself. He doesn't really thing it's that serious, so there's going to need to be a discussion between the two of you to set hard boundaries.

LUTE:

She doesn't think much of it. Does she think you should get over your fear so you have the option to flee with her in the form of flight when you need to be taken out of a dangerous situation? Oh definitely. But she might just do that regardless of if it scares you or not. Your safety trumps your comfort, in her eyes. Which... is fair.. it's harsh but it's understandable. Similar to Lucifer she's not going to force you, but she is open to helping you lean into it. She does find it a little hard to relate, or to be... sensitive. Of course she does, she isn't scared of flight and there aren't many things that give her pause. Perhaps this could be a moment for her to understand other people and how they work, as opposed to always being this killing machine?

HUSK:

He... to put it as nicely as he can.. Does not care. It's not his business and he doesn't fly much himself unless he needs it to do a task. If anything he mostly uses his wings to give himself a little boost on the battle field, and perhaps even as a makeshift shield? Point being, he is not much of a flyer unless it's needed. He's not going to make fun of your fear, but he is going to begrudgingly help you if you want to get over it. He doesn't get excited much, at least not to the extent that would have him twirling you in the air like Lucifer would.. The most indifferent to it out of these four.

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rallamajoop · 2 months

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Portraits of Miranda's family: Image assets and renders

Have some assets and object renders of all those fancy portraits of Miranda, Donna and Lady D and her daughters! There are also many more portraits of Miranda herself to be found all over the village, of course, but I've posted those before. Not sure exactly why the Dimitrescu portrait is so much lower-res than the others (the actual picture is plenty big in-game), but this is the only version of it I could find in the game files.

The painting of the three daughters is (as you've probably heard before) based on a real painting by George Theodore Berthon called "The Three Robinson Sisters" ‒ and when I say "based on" what I mean of course is "it's the same picture, they've just tweaked the poses and added the Dimitrescu crest and a few extra details." But then, you can do that when a picture is over a hundred years out of copyright.

Whether the portraits of Dimitrescu and Donna were similarly based on specific historical art I do not know, though their faces look far more game-accurate, at least. Meanwhile, the portrait of Miranda so perfectly apes a thousand different madonna-with-baby images that I wouldn't be at all surprised if that slightly-creepy-baby comes direct from some original art piece, but who knows?

On a related note, has anyone else ever noticed the weird gender/class divide in Miranda's family? All five female family members appear in these flattering portraits (all seven if you count Angie and Eva), and Donna lives in a stately home and Dimitrescu in a castle, both attended by staff and servants. Heisenberg and Moreau, meanwhile, live in an old, run-down factory and a lake. The men do get their photos displayed in the church with everyone else's, of course, but that's hardly comparable to an actual painting.

There's arguably something of a technology divide too: though everything in the village seems old, Heisenberg's factory and the reservoir control mechanisms at least mark those areas as post-industrial revolution, and both feature major puzzles to get power generators running. But very little in Donna or Dimitrescu's domains would seem out of place in pre-Victorian times.

I don't think there's much meaning to be read into the gender divide (except inasmuch as you know Heisenberg plays up his filthy, lower-class persona just to get under Dimitrescu's skin) and I doubt it was even intentional. There's not much to suggest Miranda actively favours her 'daughters' over her 'sons', given Heisenberg's favoured treatment at Ethan's trial, and you definitely don't see the same kind of split in the Baker family of RE7, which gave us the gloriously revolting Marguerite. But as soon as you start digging into these characters, it's hard not to notice it all the same.

#Resident Evil Village #Alcina Dimitrescu #Donna Beneviento #Mother Miranda #Bela Dimitrescu #Cassandra Dimitrescu #Daniela Dimitrescu #Angie #Eva

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jokeringcutio · 4 months

Text

(f) Reader sends accidental Pic to Stepdad William Afton [ Explicit/SMUT]

Fandom: FNAF Rating: Explicit Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Non-con/Dub-con, First Time, Reader loses Virginity to stepdad, Stepdad teaching Stepdaughter Reader a lesson, age difference, forbidden relationship, height difference, infidelity, name-calling, Dark!William. All characters are mature in this. NOTE: These drabbles are in no particular order and not necessarily related. But they are all Stepdad!WilliamAfton x !StepdaughterReader Universe. As a reaction to this prompt:

Reader sends accidental Pic to Stepdad William Afton

The phone buzzed in your hand, a chilling reply displayed on the screen.

I'm coming home.

Panic surged through you like a tidal wave and you had to double-check the sender. But no, it was right there. Dad.

But why was your stepdad coming home, right now, when he was supposed to be working?

As you slowly scrolled the page up, thumb trembling, you came eye to eye with the picture you had intended to send to your crush.

Nothing wrong with it, was there? Most of your friends have done this. They’d encouraged you. Just take a picture with nothing on, send it to the guy you want to be dating, and voila.

But here, something had gone horribly wrong.

Because that intimate picture had been sent to William Afton, your mother’s husband, and since a few years your new dad.

Good lord, how had you made such a slip-up? Running your hands through your hair, you paced the room. Your stepdad was a strict man, not at all pleased when you announced you wanted to start dating. Very discouraging actually.

Boys were strictly forbidden, according to him anyway. But you were a girl with hormones raging and you’d met a nice bloke at your college. Plus, your friends had pushed you to do something like this. Just sent him a sexy pic. Not that you had shown all. But still.

It wasn’t something you wanted your stepdad to see.

Looking at your own picture one more time, you felt embarrassed. You looked good in it, your absolute best. Very seductive. A very revealing pic.

You were so going to get it now.

No way your stepdad was going to let you live this down. You instantly flicked your finger over the picture, deleting it. You weren’t in the mood to send it to the right guy any longer, only felt trepidation now that your stepdad could be home any moment.

He worked at the pizza plex nearby and was one of the managers. He could go wherever and whenever he wanted, and he had a really fancy car as well.

The sound of tires screeching signaled he had arrived sooner than you had anticipated. You had run out of time. Your heart raced and you clenched your fists, unsure of how to explain yourself. Casting a glance at your mirror – you were dressed in your unflattering comfy clothes – you mentally prepared to face your stepdad.

His car roared into the driveway, and then you heard the front door slam shut.

"Where are you?" William's voice boomed throughout the house.

"Upstairs!" you called out, trembling in fear. The sound of his heavy footsteps grew louder as he ascended the stairs. He was tall and very intimidating on a good day. You didn’t want to know how he would be on a bad one. But it seemed like you were about to find out.

He burst into your room, face flushed with anger and confusion. "What the hell were you thinking, sending those pictures?"

"William, I... I didn't mean—" you stammered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“When did I give you permission to use my full name?” William sneered, anger radiated off him in full waves. He pushed the aviator glasses back on his nose with an agitated growl. “I am still your dad, step or not. Address me respectfully.”

You hardly dared to look at him as you complied. “Yes, Daddy,” voice now soft as you glanced at the floor in shame. Yet, there was that little voice in the back of your mind, wondering what he had thought when he had seen your pictures. You looked like your mom – everybody had always said so. Had he thought you attractive?

Slowly, your eyes slid higher, from the floor to his feet and upward, past his shins and to the obvious outline of his cock in his pants. You swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, when you realized that your pictures at least must have had some effect on him.

You got your stepdad hard.

You quickly looked up at his face. The thin lines around his eyes betrayed his sternness, the corners of his mouth had dipped into a displeased frown.

"Did you even think about the consequences?" he snapped, his blue eyes blazing with rage.

"Let me explain," you pleaded, your voice barely audible. The weight of his accusations hung heavy in the air.

"Explain what? That you've been sleeping around and sending pictures to your boyfriends?!" William's tone was laced with venom, his words cutting deep.

"Dad, I'm not dating anyone," you stammered, feeling a hot flush creep up your cheeks. "I just... I wanted to send them to someone I have a crush on. He asked for them."

"Christ," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Do you even realize what could happen if you do something so reckless?"

His question hung in the air, unanswered. You didn't know what to say, feeling small and humiliated.

"Think about it," he continued, his voice cold as ice. "Your pictures could end up all over the internet, with no way to get them back. And worse, that boy might want to fuck you."

As he spoke, he began unbuckling his belt, using his foot to kick your door shut. Your eyes grew wide, surprised by the suddenness of his actions. What was going on? Your body froze as you watched him, kicking off his shoes, unable to process what was happening.

Was this really the man who had been a part of your family for so long?

“It’s a good thing your mom doesn’t know what whorish behavior her daughter has been up to, because I swear, she would have gotten a heart attack.”

You stumbled backward, calves hitting the edge of your bed which made you glance shortly over your shoulder. There was nowhere to go any longer.

“Now, if you just do as I say, then we can keep this quiet,” William said, eyes gleaming behind his glasses. His pants fell to the floor and he kicked them off, leaving him in just his disheveled blouse and his socks.

His cock, long and thick, peeked out from between the edges of his blouse, the head an angry red and slit already weeping pre-cum. A mouthwatering sight, a man well-endowed. You could have enjoyed it, had he been anyone but your stepdad.

"Dad, please," you whispered, but your voice was drowned out by your own racing thoughts. It suddenly became very clear what his intentions were. You couldn’t just stand and watch. Your body kicked into action, and suddenly you found yourself bolting toward the door.

But before you could escape, William's strong hand gripped your arm, stopping you dead in your tracks.

"Where do you think you're going?" he snarled, his eyes dark with anger and something else. A deep raw hunger. Lust. You instantly knew there was no escaping the consequences of your actions.

But you were going to try.

You struggled in his grip. “Dad, William, no!” You cried out, as you tried to escape his grip. But his arm circled around you and you heard his breathing heavy and excited in your ear. You felt his chest, hot and hard, against your back. His cock pressed against the small of your back, the pre-cum staining the fabric of your shirt. Run, a voice inside your head screamed. But he was too strong.

Struggling, you felt him drag you back to your bed, so full of childhood memories. Always your personal safe little spot. And now? Now he threw you upon it without ceremony, crawling over you before you had the chance to get up.

You knew what he wanted to do to you. You could see it in those blue eyes, gleaming behind his glasses, pupils diluted with perverse intent. Could you ever look him in the eye again after this?

“Dad, please, think of Mom,” you tried to reason with him. But strong hands pried your legs open without hesitation, palms rough upon your knees, your thighs trembling as you tried to push him away.

"What are you doing?" you asked, your voice shaky and uncertain. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Surely he wouldn’t pop your cherry? Surely, he’d back down, laugh, and tell you he only had done it all to frighten you?

He leaned backward, trapping you to your bed with only his hips. Rising to his full height, he pushed his glasses back up his nose with a smirk, eyes roaming over your helpless figure underneath him.

“Oh, I think you know what I’m doing,” was all he said before two large fingers hooked around the waistband of your pants, tugging them down along with your panties, just enough to expose your cunt. Your breath halted as you looked at him in fear. He wouldn’t, would he?

“Dad,” you started, voice choked. “This is wrong. You can’t just-”

But you froze when you felt your stepdad’s long cock rub past your entrance, the tip dipping in and stretching your walls wide. He hunched over you, a grin plastered on his face while his eyes glinted. He brought his lips near your ear, hot breath flickering past your skin.

"I’m gonna teach you a lesson,” he murmured. You felt his fingers guide his cock, the fingertips pressing against your labia. Then, without a warning, he pushed himself inside in one firm thrust.

You threw your head back, back arched, and legs spasming. A loud cry was torn from your lips.

That fucking hurt.

Your stepdad was too large to be inserted in one go. Tears brimmed in your eyes while you brought your hands up to grab his shoulders, but he pushed them down and trapped them at either side of you.

“Take it,” you heard your stepdad growl through gritted teeth. “You wanted to tease some poor bloke, didn’t you? Then take what he has to offer you.”

His hips moved harshly, but it was just a few thrusts before he came to a halt. Your pussy throbbed painfully, desperately trying to adjust.

Through the tears, you managed to look up at him. William had raised a brow, looking at you as if he were studying your reactions while his hips gently started to move against yours again. You heard sickening slick sounds coming from where your bodies joined.

Experimentally, he moved his hips, and you arched your back again, fingers curling onto the mattress as you threw your head from side to side.

“Take it out,” you pleaded, “Please, Dad, take it out.” Soft mewls fell from your lips, it was pathetic. But you were in so much pain right now, split upon his cock. It was like he was tearing you apart. “It’s too much.”

You’d fantasized about cocks before, your mind wasn’t that innocent. But you’d never had a real one inside your cunt before and this – your stepdad’s cock – was just too large. The way it stretched your vaginal walls was painful, your pussy throbbing desperately around his shaft to try and adjust. But he kept moving his hips, making it harder to get used to the feel of him.

The head of his cock hit you deep, nudging against a part of you that you didn’t know existed. You shuddered on his shaft, taking deep breaths as your stepfather kept pumping his hips.

“You surprise me,” you heard the roughness in his voice, as if he was thirsting for something. “You're so tight," he groaned, his voice thick with lust. "Like fucking a virgin.”

Something in his blue eyes flickered and you bit back another pained gasp. “Fuck, you feel so good."

Another deep thrust moved you up the bed. You tried to get a grip on the sheets, the blankets – just anything, but your dad kept pushing your hands down, pinning them at your sides. Once you relented and left them there, fingers digging into the soft material of your bedding, he finally placed his arms around your head.

“That’s better, sweet girl of mine,” William’s low voice hummed. “You’re starting to adjust to my cock. I can feel it.”

Wet noises confirmed that he was still stretching your cunt, but also, that you were wet enough for him to easily slide in and out of.

“Please,” you begged, voice sounding weak, but you had to try.

Your body trembled, muscles being stretched into positions they had never been stretched before. You felt how your chest was trapped to his own, how it became hard to breathe while his cock still pushed deep inside your sensitive core.

The pain slowly began to ebb away, your legs slowly started to relax now that they got used to being pushed this far aside. Your stepdad was a large man, both in height and width as in girth, and you had to spread your legs really wide for him to fit in between. But you managed.

“I don’t want this, Daddy,” you weakly said. And you felt weak. Perhaps that was the worst of it. Not his large cock splitting you open and tearing you in half. But the fact that you wanted to appear strong, and yet your voice sounded so small and tears were threatening to fall from your eyes.

Your stepdad glanced down at you and gave another thrust. “You don’t want this, sweetheart? You’d think those boys would care if it hurt or not?”

You flinched at the harshness in his voice. As if to punctuate his words, your stepdad moved his hips in a rather sharp thrust, hitting that spot deep inside with such ferocity that it made you flinch in pain. You groaned, gritting your teeth in order not to cry out.

Something in William’s eyes flickered, recognition at what he’d done to you, and then, he did it once more, chuckling as you clearly put in effort to keep from gasping in pain.

“This is how real men fuck. If you can’t handle it, you shouldn’t send out invitations,” his words were rough and mean, and his cock dipped in even deeper inside of you, stirring your innards, making you see starts. You sincerely regretted ever having even taken such photos, let alone sending them to your stepfather.

His thrusts grew bolder, harsher. His cock was buried to the hilt as he folded you over, drawing your knees up to your chest while his hands slipped under your shirt. You felt rough fingers grasp the soft flesh of your breasts, squeezing them painfully in a tight grip that made it impossible to keep from crying out.

“That’s it, baby girl,” William spat, “When I squeeze you I feel you clench down on my cock.” Another firm squeeze of your breasts and you became aware that he was right. Your pussy clamped down on his cock firmly, as if it wanted him inside. You let out another gasp. A denial might have escaped your lips, but if there had been a quiet ‘no’ then it was denied by your stepdad anyway. He thought he was right, and apparently, he didn’t care a dime about your feelings in any of this. He was just using you for his pleasure now, nothing more.

His hips moved a little slower now while he grunted, his hands stilled on your breasts. “Let’s get rid of that,” you heard him say as he tutted his lips. His fingers grazed at the fabric of your shirt. “I’ve already seen it all on the picture anyway.”

With two strong hands, he tore at the shirt, lifting it over your chest until he left your breasts exposed.

A whistle escaped his teeth.

“Well, would you look at that,” then he leaned over you again, his breath hot on your skin. “They look even better than on the screen.”

And then his mouth was upon them. His lips circled a nipple, sucking and suckling while the other one was assaulted by his thumb. You gasped and arched under his touch, glad that his hips had stilled, but still trapped under his weight – his cock snuggly all the way inside your tiny cunt.

He was working his lips on you, suckling and nibbling on your sensitive nipples until it made you gasp. You felt how your body betrayed you. How pain from the initial intrusion and the hard fuck started to morph into something else.

Your pussy started to pulse around his cock, not in pain or in an attempt to adjust. No, your body was drawing him in, starting to milk him for pleasure. Liquid started gushing down his shaft, easing the way for him as your body started to thrum. Your nerves started to tingle, a hot coil formed in your core. Each pinch, each nibble, each suck and each bite set your body on fire. Your core throbbed.

Your stepdad was really skilled with his mouth. The hairs of his bread tickled your skin and heightened the sensations.

And then he started to move his hips again.

William’s lips left your breasts but his hands lingered. Dark eyes – the blue now a deep black – stared at you through his aviator glasses. His hips moved forcefully against your own, but the pain had now fully morphed into pleasure.

“That slides a lot better now,” your stepdad drily commented, moving his hips expertly against your own while you felt his cockhead bump against something soft deep inside of you. The sensation had you mewling.

“Always knew you were a tease,” his cock thrust deep, tearing another moan from your lips, “from the very start,” thrust, “Just another whore begging to be fucked.” Thrust. “Want to be Daddy’s good girl?” Thrust. “More like Daddy’s good whore.” Thrust. “But you have impressed me, sweetheart.”

A thumb gently brushed past your clavicle and, at feeling the sensation, your eyes looked up to search for his. The sight you met was that of a demon possessed by lust. Darkness shielded his emotions, making him look all the more fearful to you.

“Never thought I’d get to fuck my virgin daughter.”

And with that said, William gritted his teeth and started to pick up the pace. His fingers dug into your hips as he held you in place, his cock repeatedly battering so deep inside of you that you were starting to feel sore. Globs of pre-cum softened your cervix as he pressed forth, the head of his cock hitting the entrance to your womb at a punishing pace, again and again, until you gasped in both pleasure and pain. A perfect combination, for your eyes fell shut as your body worked towards an orgasm.

Your pussy tightened around your stepdad’s cock, your toes curled and your fingers dug into your bed. William’s hands were tight upon your hips, leaving bruises where his fingers dug into your skin as he rutted you like an animal in heat.

And then you came. A blissful feeling. Like a volcano that erupted inside and made you see all the stars in the galaxy. The feeling overwhelmed you. Your entire body shook and trembled, your pussy milked your stepdad’s cock for all you were worth, nearly sending him over the edge. But he had control. With gritted teeth, he worked you through your orgasm until the stars you saw started to disappear and you slowly came down from your high,

You came back to earth again feeling your stepdad’s fingers tightly on your skin, hearing his rough grunts, and feeling the force of his harsh thrusts. He was getting near. Even as inexperienced as you were, you could tell.

Your eyes opened wide. Not only was your pussy overly sensitive right now – your body begging him to stop – but this was also your first time having sex. Ever. And you weren’t on any birth control.

And your stepdad should not come inside of you.

“N-Not inside,” you managed to beg, although it took a lot of you to be able to speak after having reached such bliss only moments before.

For a moment you feared that William hadn’t heard you or wouldn’t listen. But then, after two more firm thrusts, your stepdad withdrew and you let out a loud sigh.

Relieved, you smiled up at him and watched as he sat back on his knees. His glistening erection was an angry red, the head throbbing against his own belly. Slick stuck to his shaft, coating it, creating strings of yellowish white tinted with red that caught to the hairs on his stomach.

William seemed to catch his breath as he ran a hand through his wispy hair.

You wanted to thank him for not coming inside of you, for being considerate, but the moment you parted your lips to speak, he hovered above you again. His lips turned into a devilish grin, spelling doom and confusing you because – what was he up to?

“Daddy hasn’t come yet,” he ominously rasped. You loved the way his voice sounded, so deep and hoarse. It sent another spark of arousal through you. You wondered how he was going to finish, whether he’d come on your stomach or ask you to put your lips around him and swallow his load.

But then you felt his hands on your knees, pushing them apart once more. You reached up a hand, “Dad, no!” but it was too late.

He plunged his cock back in while he hooked a hand underneath your leg, pulling it upward, meeting your hips at a different angle this time as he started thrusting without hesitation.

He curled over you, his cockhead once again beating your cervix, sending a fresh bout of tears to your eyes because it felt so good but you were oh-so-sensitive down there. You gritted your teeth, completely helpless, and left at his mercy as he fucked the living daylights out of your already sore and tired body.

“Didn’t I say I was going to teach you a lesson, pretty girl?” You heard his low voice rasp as your stepdad pressed his forehead against your own. You felt his sweaty skin against yours, felt how your sore pussy clamped down on his cock as if your body wasn’t eager to ever let him go.

“Perhaps Daddy doesn’t want to come outside,” he grunted, his large hand upon your right breast, squeezing it. And despite having already cum, your pussy reacted accordingly and clamped down like a vice. It was becoming hard to breathe now, your body was overstimulated, your core sore. But William wouldn’t stop as he worked himself toward his own bliss.

“If I want to fucking come inside of you, then I will. Part of the lesson, kiddo. I don’t fucking care if you were a virgin ten minutes ago, or if you were saving yourself for some fucking dim-witted boy. You fucking got yours now, and you’d better keep everything that Daddy has to give you. Because… here it comes.”

The last few words were all punctuated by firm thrusts, and then your stepdad groaned and rolled his eyes back as his body stilled. His hands were still firmly upon you, keeping you pinned down, whilst hotness flooded your womb and covered your insides like hot burning liquid.

You let out a silent sob, feeling certain that William held you pressed down to the mattress on purpose, keeping you pinned underneath him until he was done pumping his semen inside of your womb. When he finally retreated, his cock slipping out of you, still half-hard but already softening, you let out a sigh of relief.

Yet, your pussy fluttered around nothing, suddenly feeling empty. You started to feel drowsy, body content after the heavy fucking, heart overruling your mind. You groaned and waited to see your stepdad put himself back inside his pants before you slowly sat up.

It felt awkward and painful between your legs, making it hard to move. A thick trace of cum and blood filled the bed, pooling from your sensitive cunt to the sheets. You looked at it in disdain, wrinkling your nose as you realized that this was all done by your stepfather.

Your stepdad had ruined your cunt, taking your virginity and coming inside unasked.

You glowered angrily at him only to meet his gaze, eyes cold. He took the challenge head-on and set himself down next to you, on the edge of your bed.

“Any boy would have done that,” he said, voice low but calm. His hand hovered in the air between you, almost as if waiting for permission, and when you didn’t recoil he placed it gently on top of your bare thigh.

“I did you a favor. And I suppose, a thank you would be in place.”

Was he serious? You looked at him, core throbbing painfully after the sex. After having fucked you so carelessly, he now expected that you would thank him for it?

But then you saw that darkness in his eyes and knew you wouldn’t be able to get out of this one. This was your stepdad, you were living under his roof, eating his food, dancing to his tunes – and you would be for quite a while to come, economic crises made sure of that. It just seemed the music had changed and you were no longer in the children’s disco.

And so you hung your head. A soft whisper fell from your lips, but you could tell he had heard you by the grin that slipped onto his. “Thank you for teaching me a lesson, Daddy.”

His big hand gently squeezed your thigh, skin warm and soft.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” his hand then left your leg until his fingers gently tucked your chin up, carefully making you meet his eyes.

“I just want you to know that although I am not your biological dad, I am your family now. And as your stepdad, I will always be here for you to help you. You need anything from Daddy, just ask. Don’t tease it out of me.”

You almost felt ashamed at this point, and had to remind yourself that you did not send him that picture to tease him. It had truly been an accident. Had he interpreted it the wrong way? Did he think you had wanted him to do this? Was it your fault?

“The world out there’s a nasty place, with nasty, vile men. And what job is it but a Dad’s job to prepare his gorgeous daughter for that world? So that’s what I’m here to do. Help you, guide you, teach you all you need to know.”

It could have been sweet, had his voice not lowered and his intentions not so thin-veiled with lust.

“Just ask. I have many more lessons to teach you.”

Your mouth turned dry at the silent promise that he would fuck you some more – and all the trouble that could come out of it if your mom ever found out.

What else could you say?

“Thank you, Daddy.”

He smiled.

“Any time, darling. Any time.”

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