#she was cruel to her kid so her kid didn't let her be. and she wanted to be with her kid so she worked on changing. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

erideights · 8 months

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Little pieces here and there (2)

Pairing: Buggy x Fem!Reader (One Piece Live Action)

Chapters: one, three, four, five

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: Flirting, suggestive flirting, heavy pinning

A/N: GUYS THIS CHAPTER HAS ME ON THE FLOOR, I HOPE YOU ENJOY, THANKS FOR YOUR PATIENCE and if you like it let me know to start preparing part 3 ♡ (sorry for any grammatical mistake!)

"The One Piece will never be yours!" He shouted angrily, that -now- dwarf with a red nose, giant hands and feet, when he was defeated. Just like in a cartoon for kids.

"You're just a sad, lonely little boy wearing another man's hat!" She could not understand how it was possible that this intimidating, psychopathic, eccentric clown had turn around so quickly into this little thing that was so... dare she say pathetic, but she didn't wanna be too cruel to him.

The moment Luffy declared his intentions again, Buggy began to look around him, desperate for a way to escape, maybe one of his crew members who would miraculously come to the rescue, or an unexpected ally. Like (Y/N).

"Wo wo wo wo, no no no no, wait wait!"

He opened his mouth and begged, probably to suggest some kind of pact, to promise (Y/N) a place among his crew like he did with Luffy before, but before he could say anything else, the rubber boy already threw him into the sky.

And that was the last time she thought she would see Buggy The Clown. Little did she know, she was wrong.

Oh, so wrong.

Let's say that the days to come were anything but calm. From the Kuro Incident™, at least they won Usopp's friendship and the Going Merry, one of the cutest ships she has ever seen, to be fair.

And then they arrived at the Baratie, where they met the oh, so attentive Sanji, Zoro was about to die, and Nami... Nami left with the fishmen. Although (Y/N) was on Luffy and Sanji's side when they claimed something bad was actually happening, because she wouldn't have chosen to leave with them just like that, without a hidden, ugly reason behind. Didn't fit in with the idea she had of the ginger.

"I know someone who knows where to find her," says her "captain" when they all discuss their next step.

"Hello boys!" Buggy's head coughs and exclaims in the most forced, sarcastic way possible. Imagine threatening to kill those people after kidnapping them less than a week ago, and now your life depends on them. Low blow, if someone asked her. "Sweetheart." He then smirked devilishly when he saw (Y/N) a little further back, resting her side on the kitchen counter. Surprised to see him and the way he calls her, she raises an eyebrow and gives a small, amused smile. "Hello Buggy."

"Arg, Doll! I'm so happy to see a beautiful face like yours around here." The clown shouts when (Y/N) comes out on deck after several hours organizing the pantries with Sanji. She looks at him out of the corner of her eye with a little smile on her lips when she leaves a snack for Usopp and goes towards the bow of the ship or, in fewer words = in the opposite direction to where her mere existence is spiritually needed. The clown is already tired of giving Usopp directions after all morning arguing where to go, so infatuated and hypnotized by the mysterious aura that surrounds the woman, he doesn’t give up, and his head floats in the direction of the girl, following her, resting right by her side as she sits on the ground, legs falling over the ship's railing and out to the sea.

"Pretty sure you didn't hear me back there" because the idea of someone ignoring him was unthinkable. A war crime. An insult to God itself. He was still Buggy The Clown, The Flashy Fool, even without his crew. Or his ship. Or his body. Fucking hell, what did he have left apart from the head? "I was saying I'm glad I'm not only surrounded by idiots. Having your beautiful face around here makes standing them much easier." He flirts, winking an eye, which (Y/N) doesn't fully get but finds kinda interesting. "We had a moment the other day, right? It wasn't just my imagination, I know it."

"Yeah, we totally had a moment" She agrees, clearly being sarcastic to everyone but him. "You kidnapped us, you called me pretty, you searched me, I threatened you, you liked it..." she lists, lying her back on the deck, arms raised, own head resting on her hands, enjoying the breeze, the sun, and the smell of the salty water.

"I loved it," he corrects her after emitting a little grunt of satisfaction, vividly remembering that scene. What would he not give to go back and enjoy it a little bit more before the rest of her crew ruined his entire day -week- so blatantly and unnecessarily over the top.

"You're welcome. Any time." She answers after an amused giggle, eyes closed.

"Don't tempt me."

"Now tell me," Buggy resumes the conversation after about 30 seconds of silence. He clearly doesn't know how to enjoy it. He is that type of person for whom silence not only makes him uncomfortable, but also terrifies him. Theatre kid. "What's a woman like you doing with a bunch of insufferable kids like them? I know they're trying to organize their boy band and go on adventures around the world, but you... you should look for someone more suitable to your needs, capable of giving you different stimuli. More mature." He adds in the end with a low, seductive tone of voice, shamelessly feeding on the image of the curve of her body now that she's not paying visual attention to him.

"Hmhm. Maybe I'll look for them." She answers nonchalantly, just because. She finds really entertaining this type of tug-flirting-war. Even if he's the only one that flirts and she just gives him opportunities to do so.

"You don't have to look too far." He was so cliché, how cute.

"You talk too much to be no more than a floating head."

"I could always put my tongue to better use." Snapping her eyes open, (Y/N) holds her breath for a second, taking in what she just heard = what he just offered. That would be, literally, giving head. In all the glorious sense of the expression. Raising both eyebrows, she turns her face on the ground to observe him, nibbling at her lower lip. She seems to consider it for a few seconds, because no, she cannot deny how interesting and, at the same time, weird, degenerate, the idea is. But before he has the opportunity to keep talking his way into convincing her, she breaks into a cruel smile and decides to cut his mood "You mean like guiding us to the Konomi islands instead of talking with me? You're right, you should get back to work."

He looks at her like he was just betrayed by his second in command, hoping she would agree by the expression on her face seconds ago, the way she looked at him and how she was biting her own lip in that tortuous way that pushed him to want -need- to do it by himself.

"Wait, no need to play difficult with me sweetheart, I--" But it's too late, (Y/N) is already standing, grabbing Buggy's head between her hands, and before he could add anything else, she winks at him, kiss one of his cheeks, screams at the top of his lungs "USOPP!! CATCH HIM!" and throws his head like she was playing volleyball, Usopp jumping to be able to reach him, both of them celebrating the pass like children, ignoring Buggy's complaints.

The third time he flirts -tries to- with her, she's back on the deck, helping Zoro and Sanji moving some things around. He begins to scream desperately, and knowing damn well that if no one pays attention to him he won't stop even if that means losing his voice, she approaches, hands on her hips, sighing as she looks at him like someone that is about to regret getting close to a crying, annoying child. "What's wrong with you?" she asks dryly, pressing her lips together. "Ah, my guardian angel. Could you do me the favor of scratching me behind my ear?" Oh. A waaay more harmless request than she expected. Of course, she relents, because she sees nothing wrong with this small favor; she’s quite the empathetic, and in his place she would surely prefer to jump headfirst -ba dum tss- into the sea rather than suffer that itch and not be able to scratch it. After granting his wish, just as she is about to leave, Buggy moves his head much faster than anyone would predict, to catch one of the girl's fingers in his mouth and suck and lick and nibble, in a… God, a sample of what he could do with his tongue somewhere else.

A shiver runs down (Y/N)'s spine, and it reaches a pleasurable end between her legs, causing her to press them together as she inhales deeply.

"Wanna see what else I can do?" He whispers as he releases her. She can hear him over the crash of the waves against the hull of the boat, eyes fixed on his face, will to complain nowhere to be seen. Bold, not in a hundred years she would have expected that. And for a moment, she is tempted. That has been undeniably attractive. And it had a really strong effect on her. "I would gladly show you if you let me, you just have to ask, sugar lips. I bet it's been a damn long time you don't treat yourself--"

"(Y/N)!!" Zoro calls her, instantly exploding the bubble between Buggy and her.

She sighs in relief because only God knows she was close to give up. Then swallows, shakes her head exaggeratedly to shake herself out of his spell, and, licking her lips, gives the clown a mischievous smile, recomposing herself. "Nice try"

"Stop trying to deny the obvious" He tried again for the... 5th time? She /really/ lost count during their journey. Appearing from nowhere, he startled her in the process. He was now in a shelf of the kitchen, at the same height as the girl's face. "The chemistry between us is unbearable, you can see it from miles away." Jumping to approach the edge of the shelf, his eyes look her up and down. "Turns me on how you play hard to get because I don't like easy things either, so I respect your game," he nods, raising an eyebrow "But come on... I know you like me. I've seen how you look at me or bite your lip when I flirt with you, you have nothing to be ashamed of."

This whole thing was really trying her patience. Not because she wanted to fuck him off, but because she knows that all that flirting would end with her giving in and doing something she certainly shouldn't. As of for now, he had gotten her to vaguely consider it, and she had to admit, she was growing some kind of attraction slash fondness slash crush for him, but it wasn't enough to fall to her knees.

He wanted war, tho? He would have it.

"You're right, I like you, but you know, I like my men body and all, capable of grabbing me by the hips and pushing me on theirs, to fuck me and make me scream their name until I lose my voice. To make it difficult for me to walk straight the day after." she whispers, approaching him slowly until they share the same air, her nose touching his red one. (Y/N) closes her eyes, taking a deep breath as her tongue caresses her own lips, almost touching the clown’s ones too. Yes, she likes him, she has some sort of twisted soft spot for men who ranged from intimidating psychopath to the most pathetic human being depending on the day, and Buggy was the perfect example for that. "And you..." she tilts her head to the side, attempting to close the distance between each other and kiss him, but at the last second she withdraws, leaving the poor clown with his eyes closed, waiting for the touch of her dreamy lips. "Unfortunately you're just a head."

"Try again when you get your whole body back!"

#buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy one piece #buggy the clown fanfiction #buggy x you #op buggy #one piece x reader #one piece live action #captain buggy

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avatarkv · 9 months

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EVERY CORNER OF THIS HOUSE IS HAUNTED. (3)

Synopsis ! Jake had taken you as his own after Tsu'tey's passing, leaving no one to care for you. Things had been good before your relationship with him had blurred along growing of age. You and him fought all the time; argued each other's ear off and tonight was no different-- except words have been said, severing the already damaged bond. Content & warning Jake sully x Daughter!Reader, Sully kids x Sister!Reader Neytiri x Daughter!Reader.(wc: 5211)

“You will make a good olo’eyktan.”

Jake snorted, downing the last dregs of amber liquid from his worn wooden glass. He shook his head in amusement as he put it down on his lap– It must be the alcohol speaking, he thought to himself. Tsu’tey had been speaking vaguely; roughly in between asking where his loyalty lies and if he was willing to stay for the people. To say Jake was confused was an understandment, and he wasn’t a brick of a wall to not feel that something was wrong.

“Don’t you mean would?” He asked, refilling his cup. “I would make a good olo’eyktan. A possibility.”

Tsu'tey's merely shook his head as he finished his beverage, letting a few drops of liquid trickle down his chin. He didn’t bother to wipe it away, gaze far into the crowd of young warriors celebrating themselves. The festivity had gathered everyone and his eyes darted constantly to his lover– the one who rightfully had this heart.

And that was something Jake had noticed about Tsu’tey tonight, he realized. Tsu'tey was never truly looking at him. Although he had only spoken to him on this particular night, his eyes never once met Jake’s; it seemed as though he was constantly searching for something else– someone.

Could it be Neytiri? His heart seized as the thought crossed his mind. He was selfish. Eywa knows just how impure his soul is; how cruel he is to love a promised woman.

“What is that human word you use when you have not been truthful?”

One of the things he became aware of as he continued to learn life in Pandora was that the Na’vi didn't recognize or understand the concept of lying; there wasn't even a word in their language for it. It was a revelation for him, that such an integral part of his motherland - dishonesty and deception - was nonexistent here. He feared he would be the one to taint their morals, to be the example to its definition.

Jake was a liar.

“You mean lie?”

Tsu’tey nodded. “I fear I have done such a thing.”

Jake furrowed his eyebrows, narrowing his eyes in thought, but he couldn’t bring himself to pry– not when his eyes seemed distant once more. He thought he looked at Neytiri, but standing beyond her was the figure his eyes desperately sought. Tsi’ewa looked like a vision in the firelight, her every gracefully swaying movement becoming alive in the mesmerizing glow of the large bonfire.

And she was just there– how could she sit there and laugh and look so beautiful?

Jake puts an awkward hand to his shoulders, attempting to comfort him with a pat. “Eywa will forgive you– whatever you did.”

But Tsu’tey only shook his head again. His steady hand made quick work of refilling his cup to the brim once more, as if he was trying to drown out the rising truth that was spiraling from his stomach. He paused for a moment before lifting it up to meet his lips, “No. She would have to ask for my forgiveness instead.”

“We must tell the people now.”

They continued to walk aimlessly, steps wide and quick. The night had seemingly stretched on for hours since the gathering had ended, and they were growing ever more irritable– both bodies awash with alcohol and both minds clouded with judgment. “Your thoughts are muddled, Tsu’tey. You’ve had a bit too much to drink.” She said in a dismissive tone, making it clear that she didn't want to discuss the topic further. Tsi’ewa was nothing but distant— tonight where Tsu’tey felt most painfully vulnerable.

“I can think just fine, Tsi’ewa.” He carefully takes her arm, steering her to face him. “We have to tell the people now.”

“And risk your place in the clan?” She quickly swats his hand away, her face twisted with a troubled expression. “I will not let you ruin your name.”

They finally stand still, exhausted— bodies glistening in sweat. Tsi’ewa frantically looked around, perhaps for something to hurl or something to tightly squeeze'; anything to relieve the knot that churned deeply inside her stomach. Letting out another lengthy sigh, she finally looks at Tsu’tey. “I am but a songstress, Tsu’tey! Someone who people wouldn’t care enough to give two glances.”

“And why do they matter?” He replied in the same tone, just as defeated as she was.

“Because I am nothing. I am unheard, I am not seen– but you. You are to become leader. The people need you, Tsu’tey.” She steps in closer, just enough to feel his warm breath fanning over her face. Her finger digs into his chest as she speaks, pressing harder with each word that spills from her mouth. “You have to choose.”

“I do not have to. It is you who I want.” He answers, almost casually– like he had lost a screw or two to trade such a title for something so miniscule. Tsi'ewa releases a frustrated sigh, her posture wilting in defeat.

“You are being stubborn!”

“And you think too low of yourself!”

Silence envelopes their heaving bodies once more. He takes a deep breath before speaking, “I am unhappy with the union– it is against my will and most especially my heart. Do not make me choose the people.”

He finds promise in the crooks of her body, the warmth of her palms; a place of sanctity he wouldn’t mind kneeling to for hours. It was the kind of romance so tender, it would dissolve right on his tongue the moment he would consume it– he just knew he would love her for a very long time. Tsu’tey would let his title be damned if it meant having her for eternity.

“We will be miserable.” She whispers.

“Only if you push me away.” He answers.

Who knew Tsu’tey was quite the romantic? Well– people would’ve known if they had given him the chance to truly love. The day he died, Tsi’ewa knew her heart was buried along with his.

The flickering firelight created a somber ambience as Jake sat motionless, lost in thought. The dancing shadows casted by its light created an indescribable feeling of unease– an overwhelming weight of dread settling on his shoulders. His mind raced endlessly, thoughts clamouring in his head to be brought to the forefront.

The clan– the people. His family. Himself. Deafening, deafening sound.

Quartich was back and he had to think fast. Sure, they were far from where the old shack is, but it wouldn’t be long until they were eventually found. The thought strikes an indescribable fear, reeling him in and getting the best of him.

To say Jake was tired was an understatement.

Tired is a word used to describe how one feels after a busy day; one that promises a better tomorrow– a green light that lets you go ahead and continue once more. He fears this is more than just casual exhaustion, but something that threatens to bury him six feet under.

And then there was you; a particular voice desperate for a minute of his time. He hears your voice, even in mind. His stubborn eldest. You might as well be the reason for why his hair is turning white so early. He thought it was just a phase– he thought that every child would eventually grow out of their angsty-teenager stage. Heck, he went through one back on earth. Jake was once a little boy too, he’d know.

But as time stretched on, he realized that your actions had rooted from actual hurt and not just some juncture in life. When you said you hated him, you actually did. When you said he was being a shit father, he actually was. He made you feel that way.

Jake wonders when it happened– what had slipped through his fingers for everything to become so messy. He swears he hears you as much as you don’t think he isn’t listening.

You’d make a great olo’eykte. He knows it. Somewhere along that line frightens him– makes him terribly uneasy. He doesn’t mean to tell you otherwise, but in his eyes, you will always be his little girl; the same kid who cried to him once because everyone had been too mean. Jake would burn the whole world if he had to; shed blood if it meant your safety.

Being a clan leader meant exactly that. He knew you’d do everything to ensure everyone’s safety, even if it meant your life. Jake wasn’t ready for that– he wasn’t ready to hear that his little girl was capable enough to not need him.

He wished he’d rather made that clear instead of severing your already strained bond. The gulf between you two has grown too wide for him to bridge the gap, and it's slowly eating away at him.

There was just something so complicated between a father and a daughter’s relationship– a kind of complication that neither of you could tell what you really meant. He wishes he could understand you; take away the troubles that made you restless. Maybe then, your eyes wouldn’t feel so distant– maybe then, you wouldn’t look at him like he wasn’t your own dad.

He numbly reaches for the machine gun– its surface still emanating heat from its earlier use. He can feel its weight in his grasp, a firm reminder of the violence that had just transpired. He clenches it in his hands, his sweaty palms pressing against its hard surface in an almost comforting way.

“The children are fine and taken care of,” Neytiri gently announced as to not worry her already troubled mate. “Your mind is clouded, ma Jake, tell me about it. ”

“Just thinking,” Neytiri sat in front of him, allowing the silence to linger for a moment longer while she awaited his response. “That maybe Tsu’tey had been hinting at his relationship with Tsi’ewa for much longer than we thought.”

That wasn’t at all what her mate had expected him to say, thinking that he would likely talk about what had happened back at the old shack. The wrinkle between her eyes deepened as she questioned aloud, "Why is this being brought up now?"

Jake released a lengthy exhale as he released the empty shell from his gun, letting it amble towards the fire pit. “Maybe I could have done something to save him from dying a warrior’s death so soon.”

Neytiri straightened her leaning posture, clicking her tongue. “This isn’t about Tsu’tey, is it?” The way Jake's reaction was almost too subtle to notice only solidified her suspicions. His posture seemed to slightly change, his shoulders stiffening ever-so-slightly as if he was attempting to contain the emotions running just beneath the surface. “It’s about y/n.”

“Always about that daughter of ours.” He attempted to make light of the situation, stifling a chuckle. This demeanor was a thin veil for the obvious elephant in the room and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to make it known just yet. “Hard headed and snobby, just like Tsu’tey.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe she got it from you instead?” Neytiri narrowed her eyes at him, mouth twisted in a slight scowl. When Jake only released a snort in reply, his gaze still fixated on the machine gun, she lightly swatted him on the nape of his neck with a hiss. “You are too hard on her– on everyone! Don’t you think that you’re being too harsh on them?”

Jake winces before replying, voice firm and just as loud. “I am only doing what I can to protect everyone.” He flails his arms around, trying to emphasize his words. “Everything that I do is for them. You think I enjoy being like this? Being the mean parent?”

“Then stop!”

Jake let his long fingers run through his hair, slightly tugging at the braids in exasperation. His eyes closed for a fleeting moment as he drew in a sharp breath, attempting to compose himself. “It’s not that easy, Neytiri. They had their knives right under our children’s necks– I’m only trying to keep this family alive and together.”

“By pushing everyone away? By telling your eldest that she isn’t enough? Listen to what you’re saying, Jake! You aren’t hearing yourself!” Neytiri presses a finger into his chest. “This isn’t about war– it wasn’t always about fighting. It’s about you and the children.”

Everyone falls silent, letting the weight of their words settle in the air. The only sound is that of the distant fire crackling, filling in the otherwise unbearable quiet. They took in each other’s heaving figures, eyes softening in mutual understanding.

“You’re scared you’re going to fail her like you think you did with Tsu’tey.” Neytiri whispers softly this time. Jake’s ears flatten in response– stiff shoulders slumping in defeat.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Neytiri.”

“Oh please– you are never this rough with Kiri and Tuk. Y/n is your daughter too, so why does she have to be on the receiving end of such hard affection?” She lets out an agitated scoff, “You do not hear her, ma Jake. When she shouts, she does not call for Toruk Makto– ma’ite does not challenge the olo’eyktan. She yearns for just you, her father.”

And that was Neytiri for you; ever the wiser one. She always knew what to say. Jake looks at him with such tenderness– an admiration that was strikingly reminiscent of the first time he ever saw her.

“You fathers always do not know what to feel– what to say. So you tend to be less understanding, because in that way, less words are spoken. Silence is better than talking it out, yes? Ma’sempul was the same. Only when he died did I realize– but will you take it to your grave before you let her know that she is loved?”

A daughter is only a daughter once, not until you make her forget.

“Make her understand. Your intentions are fair, but your ways are ill— they are ill, Jake.” Neytiri's words stung like a slap in the face, she might as well strike him straight to the chest. It rendered him speechless, yet he knew something shifted— and for the better. “She is your daughter. Not Tsu’tey’s.”

His daughter.

“Am I a bad father, Neytiri?” His voice had cracked and she swore she could hear the faint breaking of his already fragile heart. The realization slowly seeped into the wrinkles of his weary face, accentuating the creases from fatherhood itself. He failed everyone and he knew it. He always thought his actions were justified– but it was the consequences that struck him the most: He didn’t know Neteyam’s favorite color, but he knew how odd he held his bow.

He didn’t know his children.

“No, just misguided.” Slowly, Neytiri cautiously wraps her arms around his rigid form. She can feel the warmth of his skin against her face as she nestles her head into the crook of his neck. She swears he could hear the rapid beat of his heart and it pounds in sync with hers– they were both lost and terribly exhausted. “I know earth did not allow you to be soft, but you’re not alone anymore. Put your burdens at ease, ma Jake.”

Jake returns her embrace, squeezing her body softly. He allows himself to bask in the moment of stillness, taking in the sweet smell of her hair and skin. With a shaky exhale, he attempts to savor the fleeting peace before it's gone. When did everything become so difficult?

After a while, Neytiri finally stands, feeling the exhaustion of all she has endured today seeping into every fibre of her body. “The children are staying over at Mo’at’s for tonight.”

She stands there, lingering for a moment before finally turning to leave. “Just talk to her, Jake.”

And there he was, alone with nothing but the warm glow of the flickering fire to accompany him once again.

Fruits. You love fruits, he thinks.

Perhaps you didn’t get the memo that everyone was staying over at your grandma’s for the night; perhaps you were waiting for him to come home too. He carefully sliced the yovo fruits, placing them a bit too delicately on the bark bowl.

Jake was undeniably nervous. His own teenage daughter made him nervous.

As he slowly trudged towards the hut, his toe lurched into one of the wicker chairs– a loud string of curses exploded from his lips as he clamped his eyes shut in frustration. Through gritted teeth, he peered down to the seat. immediately noticing its snapped leg which seemed to mock him for his carelessness. He exhaled deeply. crouching down to take a closer look.

Funny enough, it was yours– your name glaring right back at him.

If there was something that he learned best back on earth, it was to be handy— good with his hands. (well, considering the lack of legs, he had to make use of thereof.) He thought he had cracked the code back then; giving everyone gifts and crafting whatever they pleased. Jake failed to realize that it was not more toys the children wanted– it was him. Just him.

"Listen, I'm sorry," Jake visibly winces at his poor attempt at an apology. He takes a pause, deciding on the right words to say before continuing, “Let’s talk about it, kid– promise not to raise my voice." He waits for her response but only silence greets him in return. He releases a deep sigh and mumbles under his breath, “-- or maybe not. This is fine." He carefully slides in the bowl of freshly cut fruits under the flap of the hut after taking a few moments to rest against its wooden walls. He looks around, his eyes wandering everywhere, “You listening?” He waits again, “Your father– he was a good man. A very good man, in fact."

“Neytiri was promised to him and he was to become the olo’eyktan. I was only an outsider; barged in and made a mess of an already good clan.” he reminisced, “He had every right to view me as a threat– heck, he could’ve even greeted my approach with a spear right to the chest the moment I arrived. He didn’t. No one did.”

“I’m thankful for that. Everything I have now is because of him.” He looks back at the entrance, hoping for even a flicker of light being lit by you– he thought maybe you were also leaning against the wall that separates you both. “I was wrong. Your father was far more than enough, and of all people, I should have known that better– should have known better than to talk shit about him to his very daughter.”

He exhales a deep, heavy sigh for what feels like the hundredth time, his frustration evident as he rubs the back of his neck anxiously. “Look, what I’m trying to say is. I miss you, sweetheart. I’m growing old– and while you aren’t getting any younger either, I want you to understand that when I shout, it means I want you to listen. When I push you to your limits, I only want you to do your best.”

He looked back at all the times where you and him argued– when he thought what he was doing was right. Jake wondered if he pushed you away everytime he raised his voice. He probably did.

“Well– raising my voice probably never worked because you always shouted back.” he says, shaking his head with a snort of laughter. No matter how loud either of them got, the other always managed to raise their voice even higher. “Time is fucking with me– you all are growing so fast. One second I’m snuggling with everyone in the same hammock and then all of a sudden I find myself making everyone a separate one because we’re all too big now.”

He grows quiet, a lump welling up in his throat that renders him speechless. “I’m not olo’eyktan– I’m no Toruk Makto. I’m just a father, baby. And I think that’s the most vulnerable I’ll ever be.”

“Never wanted any of you to fight. Never wanted to put everyone on the line for war–” Another breathy exhale, “I was scared. Fine, there it is, out in the open. My star failed me, sweet girl. I know how humans worked back there and they worked ruthlessly. We killed our own land– our own mothers.”

His stomach would lurch at the thought of it, an overwhelming pang of nausea stirring within him. Jake could barely survive back there– he truly was lucky to be chosen by Eywa. He could already be dead if not the past occurrences for all he knows.

“I wasn’t allowed to be gentle back then and I’m glad eywa is a lot more merciful here.” He looks up, staring at the starry sky. Earth had taken too much from him and ironically, it was also humans who kept ruining him here in Pandora too. Jake was always one step behind no matter how hard he tried. “But you got to give me a bit of recognition here, baby girl, I'm trying. I didn’t automatically become a father after having children. I think I’m forever learning. I still have a lot to go.”

“I did what I thought was right; I had to ensure that my family was safe, no matter the cost, and I didn’t even realize I put a damn war over everyone’s head. Sweetheart, I never wanted any of you to fight– I never wanted to put everyone on the line to battle. I would never wish for anyone to experience what I went through back on earth and funny enough, I brought it right to our doorstep.” And he felt his voice break as words tumbled out of his mouth in an incoherent pace, desperately trying to release all these emotions that had been clogging up his throat. He brought a hand roughly to his face in an effort to hold himself together, fingernails digging lightly into the delicate skin around his eyes. “I’m scared, babygirl.”

“Eywa was kind enough to give me children in the image of people I’ve already lost; Tsu’tey, Grace– hell, I even see Tommy on Lo’ak. That knucklehead is just too curious for his own good.” He didn’t know if it was a curse rather than a gift; every corner of his house was haunted and grief had made a home right on his very lungs.

He looks back at the flap of the hut and still no sign of you– even the bowl of fruits was left untouched. “Tough crowd.” He murmurs to himself before finally deciding to stand, his legs stiff from sitting still for too long. He awkwardly pats his thighs, shaking away the dust he collected. “Everyone is staying over at Mo’at’s. You can have the hut to yourself for the night.”

Space. Maybe you needed space. (And he was terribly wrong. Space was all that remained between you two.)

Jake starts to slowly walk away, yet somehow he feels like his troubles remain firmly on his shoulders. The guilt was there— all of it. He looks back one last time, praying. Eywa, give me one last chance. Let my daughter come running to me in an embrace and I’ll swallow my pride.

Nothing.

He felt his heart slowly breaking, the pieces of it slipping lower and lower down his stomach with every passing second. His mind was a mess; he could feel all his doubts and insecurities swirling about inside his body, each one vying for center stage. I am no better than my own father. I am no better than my own father. I am no better than my own father.

Unbeknownst to him, you were never in the hut to begin with. It was sick– such a cruel joke for the words you’ve been desperate to hear to be left unheard.

“Give me strength, dear mother. Tell me what I’m doing is just.”

You were kneeling on the damp, mossy ground close to the roots of the tree of souls, your hands tightly gripping onto your queue. The thick foliage that surrounded you was awash with the lavender hue that emitted from the vine-like leaves, lending you warmth from the chill eclipse. Woodsprites floated nearby, swaying close as if to welcome your presence.

Inching closer, you stretch out your arm before allowing the tendrils of your braid to coil around the hanging threads. Taking a deep breath, you let yourself feel– taking in the presence of Eywa.

Your mind was clouded. Once a dark space turned into something light– too light, it was almost blinding. Everything was blurry, almost like a dream, but you knew it wasn’t; knew well where you stood and why you were here to begin with.

Slowly, a vision emerges - a woman standing just a few paces from you. She feels something in the air and her ears perk up, as if she is trying to figure out the space she’s in too. Her head turns from each corner, cautiously checking the blurry surroundings. After a few moments of searching for something visible to the eye, she turns and finally spots you. A sudden shock passes through her body, evident by the way her eyes widen in surprise. She stands there for what seems like eternity, you can almost see the gears starting to move and click within her mind.

“Oh, my sweet child–”

She reaches out to envelop you in an embrace, but you take a step back in response. Her arms remain open– still hopeful that you’d run to her like how a child would to her mom, but you were just there, staring incredulously.

“I don’t know who you are.”

This couldn’t be Eywa. You would’ve known.

You two stood still, eyes drawing over each other’s lines and curves, trying to etch it in memory– then it dawned to you– could this be your mother?

“I knew Tsu’tey had the stronger genes, I just didn’t expect him to take up most of the space in your face.” She lets out a breathy chuckle, “Come close, child, let me see you.”

And you shouldn’t. You haven’t seen this woman all your life nor did the people provide enough stories about her. She was nothing but the person who had birthed and given you life– that should’ve been enough for you to run straight towards her, but you stood there, gulping down a familiar grief.

It’s weird for mothers and daughters to just coexist like she had not brought you upon the world at all. Sure, you have her eyes and you might grow to have her exact physique, but the word ma’ite sounded distant on her tongue– cold and unloving. Her arms weren’t inviting.

This wasn’t your mother. Mothers are kind and warm, like Neytiri.

Your legs moved forward in a hesitant pace, as if you were being pushed against your will. You stood closer, enough to let her cup your face. She lets out a choked sob– or was it laughter? You couldn’t follow. She lets her thumb mindlessly brush against your soft cheeks, eyes filled with so much love, you feared it would be too heavy. That love was reserved for you and only you– for all the ages you’d grow to be.

But all energy is borrowed. She has been carrying this longing tenderness for years in the afterlife.

You had Tsu’tey’s eyes, his lips. She’d argue that the nose is debatable, but surely if you rip open your heart, you’d find your mother’s own. Sweet, sweet child, forced to grow up too quickly. Tsi’ewa was sure you’d be the kindest soul.

You ponder deeply– what kind of life would your mother have had if you had never been born at all? Would she still be here, with all her vitality and vigor, relishing in the gift of her youthful years? Would she perform to the children, singing them lullabies they drift off into a peaceful sleep? The thought causes you profound anguish– your mother was just like you; full of life and once was a little girl too.

You wish you knew her enough to let the grief prolong.

“Time has been unkind to you,” She said softly, her fingers tenderly sweeping the loose strands of hair away from your face.

“You are not my mother.”

“I know.” She replies. Tsi’ewa doesn’t take it to heart how harsh your responses have been– you were just her little girl, lost and terribly misguided. “For all we know, I’ve only been one to you right now, so just this once– let my words bear meaning.”

You chose to wait; giving her the opportunity to slowly get acquainted with you, taking in every little detail of your face - from the stars of moles to the creases around your eyes. You were patient with her, allowing her to digest all that made you who you are – beyond just looks. She was just a mourning mother that grieved her little girl.

“You do not have to stay.” She whispers and her words hit a little too close to home, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut and suppress a sob. “A boy would be Olo’eykte of the Omatikaya– but you, ma’ite, shall be mine.”

As the words slipped her mouth, you had finally granted her an embrace. You swear you had felt yourself turn smaller. Your head rests against her stomach, letting your ear listen for whatever you might hear. This is where you came from, you thought. Who knew a mother could bear a stranger? She clings to you with a desperate grip, preventing you from falling apart— as if it's her own way of trying to hold you together.

Just a bit more, Eywa. She begged. Give me a minute more to hold my girl.

I wish you’d give birth to me again, you cried, maybe then I’ll turn into something better.

You open your eyes, feeling beads of tears roll down your face. You mindlessly wipe them away, not truly grasping what had transpired or how the weight on your shoulders lightened. Woodsprites quickly flutter away once you regain consciousness. Your head shoots up, and a silent thank you escapes your lips as you bask in the warm glow of the light that touches your face.

Forgive me Eywa for leaving. Your ikran lets out a sharp shriek as you climb onto her back, taking steady steps up her body while gently caressing her back. The animal quiets down at your touch, eager to fly once more.

A heart is meant to be cupped by unscathed hands and if you cannot find palms big enough for yours, then you fear home is somewhere else.

finally posted a new chapter, how is everyone doing ! i honestly don't know what to feel about this part just yet, but i had to write through a writer's block so it might be ass. had to fight it or else i'd be stuck in a rut on god

very important ! i've decided not to take any more tags ;( i'm really sorry, but they take up most of my time and it bugs my posts because it only lets me tag to an extent? so if your name isn't mentioned, do know that i had to take out a few (or because your user didn't pop up when i tried) please turn on your notifications instead ;(

already proofread but please don't be hesitant to point out mistakes, i tend to be blind when it comes to editing teehee i listened to jacob and the stone by emile mosseri while writing this so you might want to do so too to set the mood !

love everyone so bad, thank you for being patient w me. smooch !

tags: @reyalvr @sparklyphantom @iwanttohitmyself @planetslove @teyamsjustsleeping @sully-stick-together @grandgreengrapes @erensbbg @queen-dk @loaklvr @theyoungeagle @ducks118 @teyyyteyyy @yeosxxx @simply-lovely78 @ellabellabus07 @thehoneymushroomhealer @saturdayrj @kingjulian0o9 @hippiezworldz @joemamalackin @random-3455 @zoetrope1997 @cl0esblogg @anxietydrogz @lokisfirstandlastwife @lunyyx @blkmystery @marsbars09 @gcldtom @luna-salem @wolflover384 @mushy-mushroom04 @whatthemonsterfuckisthis @eternalidentity @celi-xxmoon @dumb-fawkin-bitch @pinkeroppi @mellowdiy @jimfiqs @ell0ra-br3kk3r @ayra2452008 @vodoo-heart @rose-brulante @starxao @bluevenus19 @entertain-my-lvst @wwwellacom

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phoward89 · 2 months

Text

Banner by me, dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics

Based on this ask

Warnings: Dark!Stepbrother!Coriolanus Snow, Bigot General Crassus Snow, Implied child abuse, cussing, obsessive behavior, smut. AU of sorts.

When your mother started dating some war hero general, you didn't think much of it. Your mother's dated men, mostly officers, over the years and nothing ever came of it. So when your mother announced that Crassus proposed and she said yes, you nearly had a stroke.

Your older brother, Rein, had signed up for the peacekeepers the very next day. You think it was to get the hell out of the house, since Crassus Snow had a reputation of being a very cold, stern, and cruel man.

Not that you knew much about him. But you kind of knew his son. Well, you didn't know Coriolanus, but you went to the Academy with him.

Little did you know, Coriolanus has been secretly watching you ever since his balls dropped and his voice changed. He always thought that you were a beautiful little dove. His darling rose. He had a crush *cough* obsession *cough* with you, but would only watch you from afar.

His group of friends (rich asshole kids he had to play nice with) weren't the type of people that would accept you. You weren't from one of the great Capitol families.

But, despite not being able to be seen with you, he was determined that one day he'd have you pinned down on his bed.

How he planned on doing that if he never talks to you, well, who knows…

So, when Crassus Snow told his son that he was getting married to your mother, well, Coriolanus was over the moon. He was finally going to be able to fulfill his fantasies; pin you down on his mattress and fuck you into it until you begged for mercy.

The day after he found out you were going to be his new stepsister, he approached you at the Academy. You were talking with one of your friends, waiting for classes to start, in the main hallway. He felt that now was the perfect time to introduce you to the right friend circle to have; to claim you as his own too.

“Why isn't it Y/N Halvir, my new stepsister.”

“Your mother's marrying his father? Oh, I feel so bad for you…” Your friend whispered so only you'd be able to hear her.

Giving Coriolanus a fake smile, you simply greeted him with, “Hi, Coriolanus. Shouldn't you be with your own friends?”

“I’m actually here to take you with me so that you can meet them, now that you're a Snow.” Coriolanus replied, his icy eyes taking in every inch of you.

“Our parents aren't married yet, I'm nothing to you, but your classmate at the moment.” You reminded him, since he's never shown interest in you before; doesn't need to either since your parents’ are still planning the wedding.

Well Crassus’ mother, your soon to be new Grandma’am, was planning it while her son was footing the bill. You hope she doesn't pick out some frilly, gaudy, girly puffball of a dress for you to wear.

Coriolanus gave you a smile that was all pearly whites and sickeningly sweet. “Dear sweet stepsister, in time they'll be married, and I just want to introduce you to my friends.”

Your friend noticed the glint in Coriolanus' icy eyes and was afraid for you. She didn't know much about him, but he always intimidated her. Gave her the creeps for some reason she couldn't pinpoint. Your friend looked between you and your soon to be stepbrother, hoping that he'd just leave you alone.

Sadly, that didn't happen.

Coriolanus' large hand grabbed your arm, his long fingers wrapping tightly around it like tentacles. He leaned in close, so close that his breath was fanning your face, and gritted through his perfect teeth, “You're going to be a Snow, Y/N, so you need to start acting like it. The first step is to let me give you friends that are worthy of the Snow name.”

Your heart raced and you felt fear bloom in your chest. You nodded at him, giving into his will.

Coriolanus smirked when you turned to your friend and told her you were going with Coriolanus.

You were his now. His, and he’s never letting go.

Integrating yourself into the Snow family was easier said than done. First, you were stuck moving into their 12th floor Corso penthouse right away. Right away being mere days after the engagement was announced.

Your mother was so happy to be living in the grand penthouse, but you missed your old apartment.

At least your old, albeit smaller, apartment was warm and felt lived in. The Snow penthouse was cold and felt dead despite its large size and grand decor.

“Coriolanus, show your new sister to her room.” Crassus sternly ordered his son while standing in front of the fireplace in the main room, sipping tea.

Your mother and Grandma’am, Coriolanus’ grandmother, were sitting in chairs around a glass star shaped coffee table, sipping on tea and hot chocolate. Grandma'am was the one with the hot chocolate.

Grandma’am and your mother seemed to get along well, while Crassus didn't seem to care.

Hell, the general had a scowl on his face and looked a bit miserable.

You wondered if Coriolanus would grow up to be like his father since he already looked like him.

“Yes, father.” Coriolanus nodded. Grabbing your hand and leading you away from the adults, he said, “You'll be in Tigris' old room, little dove.”

“Who's Tigris?” You innocently asked.

“My cousin; she moved out into her own apartment not long ago.” He explained, dragging you down the hall.

You knew what Coriolanus truly meant. His cousin left after his father announced the engagement with your mother.

“My older brother just joined the peacekeepers, so it looks like we both had some family move out.”

Coriolanus stopped at a door, only to push it open and drag you inside of the room. “Mark my word, sweet stepsister, father will be pushing for your brother to take an officer's aptitude test as soon as he's eligible.”

“I don't see why, Rein's not his son.” You told the blonde as he let go of your hand and flipped on the light switch.

The room was spacious. The only furniture in it was a bed, a nightstand, and a desk with a chair. The bed linens were simple too.

The room felt more like a guestroom then a room that had once belonged to somebody in the Snow family.

Maybe it was the lack of personal decorations that made the room feel so lifeless?

But wasn't that to be expected considering Tigris has vacated the room; took any decorations and personal touches with her.

Coriolanus guided you over to the bed. “Not by blood, but as soon as our parents marry, your brother will be another son of Crassus Snow.” You both sat down on the soft mattress. You felt as if his blue eyes were studying you, taking you in like a fine piece of art, as he explained, “Being a part of the prestigious Snow family, Rein will have certain expectations to stand up to now, as do you.”

“I didn't sign up for this, Coriolanus.” You shook your head. Staring at a wall, you bitterly remarked, “My mother decided to marry Crassus, but I didn't know that meant I'd have to be some perfect, rich military brat.”

“Yes, well, we just have to make the best of our circumstances.” Coriolanus told you, his voice a bit crisp and tight. His large, pale hand heavily rested on your thigh. His face got dangerously close to yours, causing his breath to warm your skin. His icy eyes flashed with a fire as he smirked, “At least you have me to guide you, ensure that you're perfect.”

Your heart was racing wildly in your chest. Was your soon to be stepbrother coming on to you?

No. He couldn't be.

He couldn't.

Could he?

But before you could find out, Coriolanus was called by his father to help show the movers where to place your things.

Leaving you alone in your room with a million different thoughts swimming in your head.

Not long after moving into the Snow penthouse, you were asked out on a date by Sejanus Plinth. He was very cute and sweet. Plus he came from a good family.

And you accepted, much to Coriolanus' horror.

Dinner that night was interesting, to say the least.

“But father, you can't let her go out with him. He's district.” Coriolanus protested after hearing Crassus approve of your date plans for the following night.

Grandma'am’s wrinkled face shook with worry. “Coriolanus is right, Crassus. The district boy might hurt her. He’s not Capitol blood; he's not civilized despite living amongst us.”

“Sejanus is a sweet boy. I’ve heard only good things about him from Mrs. Plinth.” Your mother smiled in between daintily eating her spoonful of soup.

Correction, not soup, but a tomato lobster cream bisque that was the first of 4 courses. Which also included a desert.

Yea, dinners were a lavish affair in the Snow household. But since Crassus had a cook on staff, you guess they could be.

Coriolanus’ jaw twitched at your mother's words. He felt that she was foolish for taking the words of a district woman to heart. That she shouldn't be encouraging you to go out with that dirty district dog just because his mother- no his ma, said he's a sweet boy.

He's district and anyone with a drop of district blood in them hated those born and bred in the Capitol. Even those who were district transplants that were allowed into the Capitol as a reward for making their fortunes from betraying the blood of their own couldn't be trusted. No, not when their blood wasn't pure, but was tainted.

Sejanus Plinth, although living in the Capitol and being from a filthy rich family, was and always will be a filthy, dirty blooded, district dog. He was undeserving of you. Infact, even a boy from the Capitol was undeserving of you.

Because you deserve nothing, but the best. You were a part of the Snow family, so only the best for you.

And that was him.

Coriolanus was the best. The only one worthy of you.

He knew it was taboo, forbidden even, but he didn't give a fuck.

Coriolanus was going to have you and his father approving of your date with that damn district born Plinth boy wasn't going to stop him.

General Snow reached for his goblet of wine, only to announce in a deep, authoritative tone, “I've given my approval of Y/N’s date with Sejanus Plinth, so all protests of it will stop.” Giving his son a hard look, Crassus cruelly remarked, “Coriolanus, son, perhaps you should find a girl to entertain yourself with instead of your studies. I wonder about you sometimes, if you even like girls at all.” An evil glint appeared in the light blonde general's cerulean eyes. “Perhaps you'd rather go out with the Plinth boy tomorrow night instead of sending Y/N.”

The room went deadly silent. One could hear a pin drop.

“Crassus…” Grandma’am shook her pearl encrusted turbin covered head at her son. Her blue eyes were full of disappointment.

Your mother didn't say a word, just kept eating her soup. If she felt bad, well she didn't show it. Her grey eyes were glued to her spoon, as if the liquid in it was the most fascinating thing she's ever seen.

Coriolanus flew up off his chair, causing it to loudly clatter to the floor, and stormed out of the dining room.

“Coriolanus!” You called out after him, rising from your own chair with the intention to follow after him.

You felt bad for Coriolanus, for what his father said at the supper table. It was uncalled for. It was disgusting and rude. He was trying to shame and embarrass his son, it wasn't right.

Before you could even make it an inch away from the table, your future stepfather rose from the table and rounded on you. Roughly grabbing your wrist, he coldly said, “Let him sulk like the weakling he is. Sit down, Y/N, and finish your first course.”

Everything inside of you screamed to listen to Crassus, to just sit down and eat that damn tomato-lobster bisque, but your need to run to Coriolanus, to make sure that he was alright, won out. You don't even know why, but you seemed drawn to your future stepbrother. You couldn't just abandon him to wallow in misery by himself.

You wretched your arm out of the general’s cold, tight hold. Looking up at him, you said, “I'm not hungry anymore, Crassus.”

“You'll address me as father now, you little brat.” Crassus ordered, towering over you. The imposing war hero looked ready to kill. It seems that nobody has ever stood up to him before, but always fell in line with his command.

You nodded and went to turn around, only for your ‘father’ to grab your wrist once more in a tight hold. His grip on your small wrist was so hard that you could feel the bones squeezing painfully together.

He twisted your arm behind your back, making your wrist flare as if it was on fire while the rest of your arm threatened to snap like a twig, and spin you around to look at the table.

Crassus' voice was deep and full of cruelty as he told you, “Take a good look at your soup, dearest daughter, because your serving will be given to the Avox.”

Your eyes looked at the table, but not at the soup. No, you looked at the pair of women seated at it. Silently, you begged them to help you. Sadly, they wouldn't.

No…

Your mother was too preoccupied with her bowl of soup, or maybe she was afraid of crossing her future husband. And Grandma'am, oh the elderly woman just gave her son a pitiful look, but wouldn't dare speak up against him.

“In fact, for your insubordination you'll starve tonight.” You heard your mother's fiance chuckle cold-heartedly.

Crassus shoved you to the side, causing you to hit the ground with a loud thud. The force of your side colliding with the hard marble floor knocked the wind out of you. So much so, that you didn't even hear the sound of large, loud footsteps hurrying over to you as you weakly pushed yourself up.

You felt a large hand wrap around your upper arm, but the touch was different than before. The long fingers weren't bruising around you, but surprisingly gentle with their lithe hold.

You felt yourself being lifted up to stand on your own two feet as Crassus seethed at his son, the one helping you, “Coriolanus, take that bitch with you and keep her all night. I don't want to see either one of your disrespectful faces until morning.”

Coriolanus’ eyes were full of icy hate as he curtly nodded at his father. Without a word, he ushered you away from the dining room.

Sadly, he'd have to teach you that General Crassus Snow likes his children to be seen and not heard. That he enjoyed slinging out biting, stinging remarks to cut down his children. That he was worse then the devil to deal with. That life could either be hell or something worse then hell with the Snow patriarch.

Coriolanus Snow would teach you how to navigate life under his father's roof because you're his.

Yes, your mother might be marrying his father, but nevertheless you are his and therefore he must protect you.

“What did you do to make him lash out?” Coriolanus asked, sitting with you on his bed.

His room, you discovered, was sparsely decorated. Just like yours, all he had was a bed, a nightstand, a desk and chair. A couple of portraits hung on the walls, and a few trinkets were stacked on the window sill. Oh, and a couple of pictures frames and small items were on his desk, overlooking his school books and papers.

But, all in all, it felt as empty as your room did.

Damn…

This house was cold and empty, full of nothing but sorrow and hate it seemed.

And your mother willingly brought you here.

Fuck your life…

“I got up from the table to follow you; make sure that you were okay.” You honestly told Coriolanus, listening to the sound of his father yelling at your mother about how unmannered you were.

Oh, and they were still in the dining room.

Yea…

That's how loud Crassus was.

Biting your bottom lip, you looked at the boy with platinum curls that you were stuck with for the night, and told him, “Thank you for coming back and helping me, Coriolanus.”

Coriolanus tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. “Y/N, my darling, you belong to me. I'll always come back for you, help you when in danger.”

Before you could even ask him what he meant by belonging to him, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. It caught you off guard. You honestly weren't expecting his lips to be so lush, so soft. And you definitely weren't expecting him to kiss you.

He's going to be your stepbrother soon.

For Christ's sake!

He's going to be your stepbrother!

That revelation caused you to place your hands on his chest and gently push him away, while leaning your head back to break the one-sided kiss. You looked into his icy blue eyes, only to see something dark swimming in them.

Correction: not something dark, but lust.

“What's wrong, Y/N? Why did you push me away?” He asked, voice heavy with wonder. Lust blown baby blue eyes never leaving yours.

“You're going to be my stepbrother soon, Coriolanus. We can't kiss and stuff, it's not right.”

“Oh, darling, we're not blood related, so it's perfectly fine for us to kiss and to fuck.” Coriolanus assured you with a whisper in your ear. His breath was hot against your cheek as he confessed, “I've been watching you at the Academy for years, my little dove. Fucking my fist every night to fantasies of you and now that I have you with me, well, Y/N, I'm not ever letting you go.”

“You've liked me for that long?” You asked in bewilderment.

He couldn't have liked you for so many years, only to never make a move.

Could he?

It just didn't seem possible.

“Mhm…” Coriolanus hummed, only to nip at a spot right below your ear. “You've consumed my thoughts since we were 13, my darling rose.”

What? He's had a crush on you since you were 13?!

Like what?....

He's liked you for that long and never said a word? Never made a move, until now?

Wow…

“Corio-” You began, only for him to sigh and cut you off with, “Please, call me Coryo.”

Nodding, you turned your head slightly so you could look at him. “Coryo, you should've told me how you felt years ago.” Your eyes flickered to his hand, that had found its way on your thigh, and back up to his baby blues. “It's too late to do anything about it now. Our parents are getting married and I'm Sejanus' girlfriend now.”

Coriolanus did not like that remark. Oh no, he didn't like it one bit.

You're NOT Sejanus' girlfriend!

You're his girl, you belonged to him. Hell, you're part of the family now too.

His, his, his!

You're his and he's going to show you.

“You don't belong to him, Y/N. You’re mine.” Coryo darkly declared, only to kiss you.

He kissed you with so much fervor. He was a man possessed as his lips slid against yours. Kisses you as if you were the air he needed to breathe.

This time you didn't push him away. Instead, your lips moved against his. Your hands tightly fisted his shirt; pulling him closer as your lips clashes with his.

Coriolanus pushes you onto your back, causing you to let out a surprised gasp. He used your shock to deepen the kiss by slipping his tongue into your mouth.

His hand caressed the inside of your thigh as his tongue explored your mouth. Tasting you as if you're the sweetest treat.

Your hands ran up his chest and snaked around his neck as your tongue flickered against his, causing you both to moan. As your tongues began an intimate dance, his other hand found its way to your neck.

You pulled away slightly, catching your breath as your lips hovered close to his.

“Coryo.” You breathlessly moaned, feeling his long fingers brush against your soaking wet panties.

“You're so wet for me, darling.” He smugly told you. “You need me, don't you?” He asked, even though he knew that your entire being aches for him at this very moment.

Coryo wanted, no needed, to hear you tell him that you wanted him to fuck you dumb. That only he could take away the ache in your cunt.

Him, the very reason for your wet pussy.

“Coryo…we can't…” You weakly protested as your core aches with a fiery desire. One that you've never felt so fiercely before.

Or at least until now.

“We can, little dove.” He told you, using his fingers to slip your panties to the side. The air hitting your wet pussy causes you to shudder.

Your reaction has him smirking. Pulling your legs open wide for him, he announced in a dark, lustful tone, “I'm gonna fuck you and you're gonna like it, Y/N.”

Breaking eye contact with him as his hands ran over the insides of your spread thighs, you confessed, “I've never done this before, Coryo.”

“You’re a virgin.” Coriolanus stated, not asked. He knew you’ve never been fucked before. He would've known if you had since he stalked looked after you from afar for years.

“Yea…” You trailed off, blushing in embarrassment.

God, your skirt was bunched up and your legs were spread wide open, like a whore in heat, with your panties pushed aside exposing your dripping tight hole to your step brother. And here you were, blushing at having to confirm that you're a virgin.

Coryo took a sick pleasure in you being embarrassed about your innocence despite the wanton state he had you in.

“Don't worry, your stepbrother's going to change that.”

“God, Coryo, don't call yourself my stepbrother while my legs are spread for you. It's dirty.”

“And you're my dirty little slut because your cunt’s drooling and clenching around the air from my dirty words.” Coriolanus taunted as his hands rested on either side of your pussy, thumbs spreading open the lips to expose your tight dripping hole to him. “Oh, darling, you've got such a pretty pussy for me.” He cooed, dipping his head down between your spread legs

“Oh god…” You shakily moan, feeling Coryo lick a thick stripe up your cute with his hot, wet tongue.

You could feel him smirking against you before his tongue flickered your clit.

“Coryo.” You moaned as he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked on it.

He smacked the inside of your thigh, only to lift his head away from your pussy and hiss, “Shut up, bitch. Don't wanna get caught, do we?”

“Sorry, it just felt really good.” You apologized, your voice tinted with need.

“You're forgiven, darling, but don't be loud again or else I won't prep you. I'll just fuck you face first in my pillow to muffle your screams and call it a night.” He told you, making new gush of wetness spill out of your pussy. “Oh, looks like me fucking you face first in the mattress turns you on, stepsister.” Coryo darkly chuckled, his breath hot against your aching core. “Don't worry, I'll do that to you, but not tonight. Tonight's your first time and I don't want to hurt my girl. I want to swallow your moans of pleasure, not muffle your moans of pain.” He told you before placing his mouth back on your dripping cunt.

“Mmmm….” You bite your lip, preventing your moan from being too loud, as Coriolanus sucked on your clit.

Your hands found their way into his platinum curls as his tongue teased your tight, wet hole. His thumbs let go of your pussy lips as his mouth latches onto your cunt, tongue messily lapping thru your folds. His hands grabbed onto your thighs, spreading them even wider.

Painfully wider.

But you couldn't help, but curl your toes into the mattress as his icy blue eyes pierced into your soul. He looked at you with such hunger as he messily ate you out.

It was as if he craved you; couldn't get enough of you.

As if he was starved and you're the only meal he's eaten in days.

Your hands tightened in his hair as you felt his tongue enter your hole, fucking you.

“Coryo…more…” You begged, for what you didn't quite know, as your chest began to heave up and down heavily.

Coriolanus knew exactly what you needed.

You needed your tight cunt filled and fucked.

And he was going to give you exactly what you needed.

He wrapped his lips around your clit sucking it harshly, as he slipped his middle finger into your pussy.

Coriolanus moaned at how tight your hole clenched around his long fingers. The tightness of your virgin cunt clenching around his digits had him rock hard and grinding into his mattress. Fuck, he couldn't wait to have his cock inside your tight pussy. Stretching it to its limit, making it fit around his large cock.

“Coryo…feels so good…” You panted as he fucked you with his finger while sucking on your clit.

He smirked against your clit, only to add his pointer finger into your cunt. He curled his long fingers up inside your slick walls, causing you to writhe in pleasure every time he hit that spongy spot deep inside of you.

“I-I think…” You trailed off, biting your lip to keep a moan from spilling out, as you felt pressure build up in your lower belly.

“You think you're gonna cum?” Coryo supplied for you, his breath hot on your cunt, as he began to piston his fingers deep inside of you. He knew you were close by how tight your cunt was squeezing his fingers. He couldn't wait until it was squeezing his cock.

“Yea.” You squeakily nodded.

“I want you to cum on my face like the little slut you are. Can you do that for me, darling?” Coriolanus told you, his voice raspy and thick with lust, before dipping his head back between your spread legs and sucking your clit.

“Please…make me cum, Coryo. Please, so close…” You begged, causing him to fuck his fingers up into furiously while sucking hard and fast on your clit.

He needed to taste your juices spilling out onto his chin, needed to feel your pussy tightening around his fingers. He craved it like the headmaster at the Academy craved a fix of morphling.

Your toes curled tightly in the sheets and your nails scratched Coryo's scalped as you came with the sound of his name on your lips.

He slowed his movements just enough to help you ride out your high. His tongue greedily lapped up every bit of your juices that came squirting out of your pussy.

Your hands fell out of his curls as you began to calm down from your high. You couldn't help, but smile at how messy his hair looked as a result of you pulling on it.

When Coryo pulled his fingers out of you and sat up, sucking them clean, you were horrified to see that his chin was glistening, that your juices were dripping down his chin and onto his neck. Your cheeks flushed red and you quickly sat up, trying to clean the wetness from his chin. “I'm so sorry, I-” You attempted to apologize, only to be cut off by Coryo chuckling, “Don't apologize, darling. You squirting all over my face turns me on.”

“Really?” You asked, eyes wide with shock.

“Really.” He nodded, grabbing your hand that you used to wipe his chin with. Bringing your palm up to your face, he huskily ordered, “Now taste yourself.”

You blinked, feeling your pussy begin to pool and ache again, only to obey Coryo’s command and lick his hand clean.

The taste of yourself was a bit sweet and tangy. It was also intoxicating.

Standing up and pulling you up with him, Coryo said, “We need to get undressed.”

“Okay.” You nodded, feeling a bit nervous despite having just had Coriolanus’ platinum blonde head between your legs mere moments ago.

You went to grab the hem of your dress, only to have Coryo bat your hands away and grab it himself. “Lift your arms up, darling.” You nodded and did what you were told. Quickly, he pulled your dress off and tossed it to the side. “Take your bra and panties off.” He instructed while quickly working to unbutton his shirt.

Coriolanus’ lust blown eyes were glued to you as you reached behind your back and unhooked your bra. He felt his breath hitch as you took off your simple, white lace bra.

“Oh, little dove, your tits are perfect.” He cooed while removing his shirt and tossing it to the side.

You shook your head, only to look down at the floor and sigh, “No they're not, Coryo. You don't have to say that.”

Being nearly 18, you're self conscious about your boob size. Especially since you didn't seem to be as developed as the most popular girl in school. The girl that every boy (well, maybe not every boy since Coriolanus was half naked in his room with you) wanted to fuck. The perfect, pretty, popular, dirty blonde with jewel tone eyes.

Livia Cardew.

Coryo had just toed off his shoes and unbuckled his belt when your self doubt caused him to stop undressing. He closed the small space between you and reached his hands out to grab your tits.

You shyly bit your lip as he squeezed them. “Your tits are perfect because I say so, my darling.” Coriolanus huskily told you as the pad of his thumbs roughly ran over your nipples.

“But I'm not-” You began to protest, a feeble attempt at explaining your thoughts, only for Coryo to cut you off with, “Shut up, I told you that I think your tits are perfect.” He roughly squeezed them. “As long as I say they're perfect, little dove, then they are.” He declared before bending his head and taking one of your, now pebbled, nipples into your mouth.

The feeling of his wet tongue swirling around your nipples while his fingers tweaked your other one has you rubbing your thighs together, seeking friction to relieve that growing ache between your legs.

Letting go of your nipple with a wet pop, his lust filled blue eyes bore into yours as he orders, “Unzip and pull my pants off, Y/N.”

“Okay.” You nodded before doing as you're told with shaky hands, all the while Coryo was biting and nipping at a spot on your left boob.

You knew he was leaving a hickey there and, for some reason, it turned you on. The idea of him marking you as his made something flare up in you.

You've never had somebody want you before, but Coryo wants you so much that he's putting his mark on you. Staking his claim.

Coryo pulled his head up off your chest as his pants pooled around his long legs. Stepping out of them and kicking them to the side, he smirked, “You should take your panties off. But put your kitten heels back on, I want to fuck you in them.”

“Okay.” You nodded, pulling down your lace white panties while watching him pull off his socks.

You bent over and grabbed your shoes from the floor. Putting on your black kitten heels, your eyes popped out of your head as you watched him pull down his boxers only for his big cock to spring free and slap up against his lower stomach. You've never seen a cock before, but you knew his was big. It was long and girthy. Must be at least 8 inches, had veins on the underside and an angry red head that's tip was leaking precum.

You felt yourself gushing just from looking at it. Oh my God, how is that going to fit inside of your pussy.

“Don't worry, it'll fit.” Coryo assured you, a proud grin on his angular face.

What the hell? Did you say that out loud about him not being able to fit? Oh hell…you must've.

Taking your hand in his large one, he brought you over to the bed. “Lay down and spread your legs as wide as you can for me.” He instructed.

Nodding, you quickly laid on the bed and spread your legs for him. Your knees slightly bent, kitten heels slightly digging into the mattress.

“Fuck, your pussy’s so perfect.” Coriolanus swore while kneeling onto the bed, right between your shaking thighs. “Perfect and all mine.” He said while using his thumb to smear his precum around his cockhead. He began to give himself a few shallow pumps, to coat his cock with his precum, as you stared up at him with anticipation dancing in your eyes.

“You want me, Y/N?” Coriolanus asked, lining his dick up with your pussy. “Once I have you, take your virginity, I'm not letting you go.” He told you, teasing his cock thru your wet folds. “I fuck you and you're mine forever. You understand me, my darling rose?” He seriously asked, giving you a last minute opportunity to back out, as his dick bumped your clit.

Your hands held onto his shoulders as you looked him square in his icy blue eyes and confidently said, “Make me yours, Coryo. I want to be yours.”

That was the sweetest thing he ever heard. You begging him to make you his. Saying that you wanted to be his.

Coriolanus was in heaven.

He dipped his head down and captured your lips in a quick, but needy kiss before lining his tip up with your tight hole. He leaned his forehead against yours as he surged forward, pushing his length inside of your tight walls.

Your nails clawed at him and your eyes teared up at the stinging sensation of being stretched wide open on his large cock for the first time in your life. You bite your lip, swallowing back a cry, as your walls struggled to accommodate his large cock.

Coryo was about halfway in whenever he brushed away a stray tear rolling down your cheek. “You're taking me so well.” He praised. Kissing your cheek, he said, “Just a little bit more, Y/N. I know you can handle it. You cunt's made for my cock.”

“It stings, Coryo.” You gritted out, feeling him pop your cherry before sliding the rest on the way in and bottoming it.

“I know, it does. I know it does, darling.” The platinum blonde told you in a feeble attempt to soothe away your pain. With a proud smile, he pointed between you and said, “Look, a perfect fit.”

You looked down to see that he had disappeared inside of you; the only evidence of his cock being the outlining bulge in the bottom of your tummy. You ran your fingers over the outline in awe, causing your-hell you don't know what to call him right now except for Coryo, to shudder blissfully.

Bringing his large hand to cover yours as it traced over his bulge in your tummy, he proudly announced, “My cock’s deep up inside of your womb, darling.” Lacing your fingers with his, he pinned your hand onto the mattress and began slowly thrusting into you. “I'm gonna fuck my baby up into your womb. Show everyone that you belong to me.”

His words were like a bucket of ice water being dumped over your head. The reality that you weren't on birth control and had your soon to be stepbrother's cock in your not so virginal pussy anymore had you slightly panicking.

“Coryo, you can't do that. You can't cum inside of me. I'm not on anything and our parents’ll be mad if-” You began to frantically ramble as Coryo fucked his cock slow, but deep inside of you, only for him to cut you off with a rough toned, “I don't give a fuck what those assholes think, Y/N. I'm 18 and soon you'll be 18, so they have no say over us fucking.”

You bit your lip, leaving out a mewl, as your felt his dick brush up against the spongy spot inside of you.

“Hell, come mid-summer we'll be graduating the Academy, so knocking you up won't interfere with your education cause there's only a handful of months left til the games and the graduation ceremony.”

“Coryo, were too young. Just, please, pull out before you cum.” You pleaded with innocent eyes.

Coryo couldn't grant you that. He couldn't do that for you. He's selfish and wants you all to himself. What better way to ensure that you stay with him then to baby trap you?

It's perfect, really.

Knock you up and you're stuck with him forever.

Nobody will ever want you let alone look twice at you once they see you're pregnant with his baby.

With your stepbrother's baby.

Oh, yes, knocking you up will make the perfect scandal that'll keep you two together forever.

Plus, Crassus won't want the shame of having a bastard grandchild, so he'll push for Coriolanus and you to marry in order to give the baby a legal name.

Sadly, Coryo underestimates how evil and cruel his father can be (even to his unborn grandchild). If he wasn't so pussydrunk, maybe Coryo would've realized that knocking you up would only enrage his father.

But he wasn't thinking clearly. He's pussydrunk and high on his obsessive love for you.

“I'm not pulling out, Y/N.” Coryo firmly told you. Speeding up his movements, he grunted, “Now stop whining and enjoy me fucking you.”

You didn't argue about the subject of him pulling out anymore, just nodded your head and let the feelings of pleasure wash over you.

Your breath hitched and you let out a mewl when Coryo's hands grabbed a hold of your legs and pressed them into your chest, causing them to rest on his shoulders as he began to thrust harder into you.

“Coryo…you feel even bigger…’ You muttered, the position change making him hit deeper inside of you.

“You like my big cock fucking splitting open your pussy, don't you? Fuck, your taking my cock like such a little cock slut, Y/N.” He darkly told you, lust tainting his voice, as you scratched his back and babbled his name.

“Coryo, please. I'm so close. So close…” You begged him to make you cum as your head got heavy, making you feel like you're underwater.

“I'll make you cum, darling. I'll make you cum right now on my cock.” Coryo told you, snaking his hand between your bodies only to roughly rub and pinch your puffy clit.

The feeling of his thumb roughly abusing your clit and his cock deeply plowing into your pussy has you clenching around him, cumming hard with his name on your tongue like a prayer.

Coryo fucked your thru the aftershocks of your second orgasm, only to sloppily speed up and chase his own release.

“I'm gonna cum inside your pussy and you're gonna take it all, Y/N. You're gonna drain my cock dry, little dove.” He told you as he felt his heavy balls, that were slapping relentlessly against your ass, tense up.

“Coryo, I think I'm gonna cum again.” You told him, feeling that warm fluttery feeling well up in your lower belly once more.

“Fuck, your creaming my cock like such a good little slut.” Coryo groaned at the sight of the white creamy ring you were leaving around the base of him. “Fuck…” He gasped, about to cum. “Cum with me, darling. Cum with me.” He demanded, his hips stuttering before he let out his release.

You came again once you felt his hot cum shoot up deep inside of you in thick ropes.

“Oh fuck…” Coryo panted, collapsing on top of you.

“Oh fuck…” You agreed with him, kicking your feet and causing your black kitten heels to go flying across the room.

Your legs limply slipped from his shoulders as your hands shakily carded thru his sweaty light blonde curls. All while his face nestled into your perfect tits. Coryo's softening cock was still nestled inside of you, but you didn't mind. The closeness felt nice.

Your first time was amazing. It was nothing like the horror stories you heard other girls at the Academy gossip about. You were lucky that Coryo knew what he was doing. You felt wanted for the first time in your life after losing your virginity to him.

Coriolanus felt that fucking you was the best experience in his life. Honestly, it sure beats all those stupid quickies he had with dumb whores in the alley behind the club. He'd never tell you that tho.

No, you didn't need to know about his sexual past.

All that you needed to know was that you’re the only one that he wants. The only pussy that he’s getting his dick wet with for now on is yours.

You were cuddling in bed together, blankets pulled up around the both of you. Your head was resting in the crook of his neck as his long fingers raked thru your hair.

You felt happy in this moment, but you knew that it couldn't last. That it has to end. Your parents were getting married.

You could never be together, not truly.

You were going to be stepsiblings soon. Being together would be considered taboo.

Coryo could sense something was bothering you. “What's the matter, darling?” He asked, searching your eyes.

“We can't do this again, Coryo. Despite how we feel, it's taboo.” You told him, breaking eye contact with him because you didn't want to see his reaction.

“Y/N, I don't care what society thinks about us, our situation.” The platinum blonde spat. Lifting your chin up, so you had to look him in the eyes, he swore, “You're mine and I'm not giving you up. I'll kill anyone that tries to take you away from me, Y/N.” Coryo leaned in, kissing you on the lips. “It's us against the world, my darling rose. And you know what? Snow always lands on top.”

You were tired and didn't want to fight, so you decided to give in to him, to the man whose arms you were in. “Okay, us against the world then.” You smiled, eyes fluttering tiredly.

“One day when I'm the president and you're my first lady, nobody'll even remember that our parents decided to get married. And if they do, well, they won't be breathing for long to say anything about it.” You heard Coriolanus tell you while drifting off to sleep, warm and safe in his strong hold.

If only you knew how many people Coriolanus would kill in his lifetime, would you still stick by his side?

Probably, since he was ingrained in your soul once you gave him your precious gift that was your innocence- your virginity.

After all, you discovered quickly after becoming a part of the toxic Snow family that it truly was you and Coryo against the world.

Tags: @kuroosbby001, @purriteen, @poppyflower-22, @meetmeatyourworst, @whipwhoops, @bxtchopolis, @readingthingsonhere,@savagenctzen, @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer, @tulips2715, @universal-s1ut, @thesmutconnoisseur, @squidscottjeans, @sudek4l, @wearemadeofstardust0, @mashiromochi, @gracieroxzy, @belcalis9503, @shari-berri, @aoi-targaryen, @whiteoakoak, @spear-bearing-bi-witch, @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons, @qoopeeya, @mfnqueen1

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diamondsunbursts-and-marblehalls · 3 months

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At the end of everything Percy chooses to be on Luke's side, not Kronos's, not the gods' but Luke's. Luke, who was just a kid forced to grow up too soon, Luke, who has been angry his whole life, forced to protect people he cared about without any resources, forced to go on the run, forced to flee to a place that's supposed to be safe only to find out it reeks of generations of kids who were abused and mistreated by parents who didn't care, taught that love was transactional, taught that glory is everything and forced to reach for an impossible standard of glory to achieve that love.

I think ultimately Percy is the child of the prophecy because he was taught from a very young age that love should be unconditional, but he also learned from a young age that not all love is. He WAS Luke. The same anger towards the gods, the same desperate need for change, the same feelings of helplessness. Luke sees himself in Percy, and I think part of the reason Percy made the choice to give Luke the knife is because he sees himself in Luke. Everything Luke has ever said about the gods, about demigods, about the system, Percy has said those same things. Out loud.

The difference is that Luke consistently chose anger over love. From the very beginning of his story, he compromised the safety of those he was supposed to protect by picking fights, and he turned to a darker force to combat the helplessness of his existence, maybe he still cared about Annabeth and about family at the beginning but it didn't take much time for that to change. He discards Annbeth's life; the one person he promised to stand by and protect, he's careless with the lives of other half-bloods, he's cruel.

I love the effort that they are making in the show to portray Percy as a mirror to Luke from the very beginning, way before new viewers even know what's going to happen at the end. Percy is saying, "The gods have done nothing for me, they have done nothing but hurt the people I care about, we would be better off without them". Luke is undoubtedly the villain and the choices he made were his own, but at the same time, he was just a kid who felt helpless and alone. Because of that, he chose the anger he felt towards the gods over the love he had for his family, and that's where Percy is different.

Athena once said to Percy that he would let the world burn just to save a friend. His love and his loyalty are so strong that he couldn't sacrifice anyone he cared about if it meant saving the world. Unrealistic or not, there is something beautiful about the idea of someone who cares enough about you to think that a world without you in it isn't a world worth saving at all.

Kronos tries to paint loyalty, family ties and love as a weakness, when we all know that it was the only thing that had any power against him. Luke allows himself to be corrupted to the point where he sees those things as weaknesses as well until Kronos loses everything because of one little girl and what she represents. Annabeth's reminder of Luke's promise was the one thing that gave him enough strength to take control. The reminder that he loved someone and that he promised to be her family has the power to break him from the control of the most powerful evil.

It's the reminder of the love he had before he chose anger that gives him the strength to defeat that anger. And it's the love he always had for the demigods seeping back in that gives him the strength to stay alive long enough for Percy to promise to protect them.

I don't know that he would have had the strength to destroy Kronos without the knowledge that Percy would be there to finish the fight that he had lost sight of. He spent years fighting Percy, and he watched him choose the half-bloods over and over again, Luke saw how much anger he had, and saw him choose love instead. Luke knew that Percy would be able to do something that he had never been able to do, choose to protect the people he loves before hurting the people he hates. Everything Luke did, he did to punish the gods for the way they treated their kids, and everything Percy did, he did to protect those kids. Luke couldn't have destroyed Kronos if he didn't know that someone who cared about those kids as much as he did would be there to protect them the way he tried and failed to.

#unfortunately i've been a luke castellan apologist since birth #and now i have to suffer #rip hater you're not going to like this one #you know who you are #percy jackson #luke castellan #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #the lightning thief #the last olympian #pjo tv show #pjo series #pjo tv series #annabeth chase #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson spoilers #pjo spoilers

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stargirllanaa · 3 months

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୨⎯ "Cruel World” - Rafe Cameron

❥ Masterlist

Warnings: Dark!Rafe, Noncon smut, toxic relationship, Abusive relationship, Domestic violence, Gun violence, Drinking, ex!rafe, Rafe is actually terrible, psycho ex bf Rafe

Summary: loosely, based on ‘Cruel World’ by Lana Del Rey, everything goes wrong when you spot your psycho ex bf at a New Year’s Eve party.

A/n ✎: Thank you so much for 100 followers! Ahhhh!!!! I’m so glad you guys are enjoying my work, I recommend listening to the song ofc but you don’t have too. Bold and italics are flashback. Enjoy <333

Wc: just under 3k

18+ MINORS DNI, YOU WILL BE BLOCKED

“Does anyone know where I put my eyeliner?” Your friend Nora asked you, as well as your other friend Violet.

You were all getting ready for some New Year's Eve party at Nora's boyfriend's house; everyone would be home from college for winter break, so you were excited to see all the people you went to high school with.

“No, but I know where the vodka is!” Violet chuckled,

“Come on, let's all take a shot!” Violet continued as she made her way over to you.

“Come on, y/n, are you going to pout all night? He might not even be there.” the brunette expressed as she sat beside you, bottle in hand.

She was referring to your ex, Rafe Cameron, and you knew for almost a fact that he would be there. Nora's boyfriend happened to be his best friend, Topper, and you and Rafe hadn't exactly ended on the best terms. The two of you had been broken up for about a month and a half; for the first two weeks, he would not stop texting and calling you, profusely apologizing, saying things like, ‘I'll go to therapy.’ ‘give me another chance.’ ‘I'll be better.’

It got so annoying that you had to block him; obviously, that wouldn't stop him. The thing was, Rafe was fucking crazy; he would always find a way to get to you, and if he didn't, he simply didn't want to.

“He's going to be there.” You said with a sign, “I'm just going to get fucked up, ignore him, and hopefully get some dick tonight.”

“That's the spirit!” Violet said as you tilted your head back, and she poured the vodka down your throat.

“Are you kidding me?” Your boyfriend asked you in a harsh tone as he stalked toward you.

“What?” you respond as you tried to take a wobbly few steps back.

His eyes narrowed at you, and his eyebrows furrowed.

“Well, aside from the clown makeup,” Rafe said, referring to your red lipstick.

“How many times do I have to tell you I don't like that dress?” Rafe interrogated as he roughly grabbed your waist.

“How many fucking times, y/n?” the blonde shook your body roughly. “For you to get it through your thick fucking skull?”

You were silent, frozen almost; whenever Rafe got violent, you didn't know how to react. You didn't fight; you didn't try to run; you stood wide-eyed in shock because if you did respond the wrong way, you knew it would make things 10x worse than they already were.

“Huh?” He asked you, shaking your body roughly again, waiting for you to respond.

“I- I don't know.” You mumbled weakly.

“You don't know,” he mocked with a dry humorless laugh.

“Go and change. Red looks trashy on you.” He stated before letting go of you with a harsh push into the wall.

All your friends knew that Rafe was bad, but they certainly didn't know how bad he was. You were so good at hiding it, concealer, color corrector, foundation, you name it; if it could cover a bruise, you had it. Every story you told them about your fights with Rafe were very watered down, and because of that, no one knew how truly scared you were to run into Rafe at this party. Not in an ‘Oh, no, my ex!’ way more in a ‘he might kill me way.’ But with every shot you took, you felt your fear start to fade slowly, and when you arrived at the party five shots in, in your little red party dress, you felt way more confident than you should have.

Your arm linked with Violet’s as your friend Nora lost the two of you to find her boyfriend. You and Violet stumbled through the house, passing through groups of people, trying your best to find the drink table.

“By the way, I love your dress,” Violet approved, looking you up and down. “Red is your color.”

“Thank you!” you smiled, taking the compliment to heart; she didn't know just how much that meant to you; you hadn't worn red since Rafe had told you it was ‘trashy’ on you.

“Fuck, is the Britney Smith?” Violet giggled, pointing at the short blonde girl.

“Isnt she pregnant?” you wondered as your eyes fell on the drink table.

“Oh my god, look who's right next to the drinks,” Violet says before covering her mouth with her hand.

“Is that Alex?” you replied, squinting your eyes to get a better look.

Violet nodded in response, eyes wide with excitement.

“Go talk to him!” you smiled at her. “I'll sit right over there,” you said, pointing at the elegant velvet couch.

As you sat on the couch, you couldn't stop thinking about Rafe. Your anxiety slowly started to rise, and you regretted every choice you made up to this point. First of all, you and Rafe had ended on horrible terms; second of all, you came to a party that you knew he would most likely be at, and now you are all alone and a little more drunk than you'd like to be.

You couldn't stop thinking back to that day, your breaking point, the last fight you had with Rafe before you ended things for good.

“Why are you following John B on Instagram?” Your boyfriend asked you as he looked up from his phone.

The question confused you a bit; you honestly didn't even know you were following him in the first place.

“I don't know?” you replied with a shrug. “Probably was an accident; maybe Sarah tagged him in something or-”

“Was it an accident when you smiled at him the other day at the wreck?” he cut you off.

Was he serious right now? John B had waved at you, and you simply smiled in return. You were just being nice; it was nothing more than that.

“Rafe, I-” You were going into very dangerous territory, and you knew that, even though Rafe was physically attractive, he was very insecure, which showed a lot in your relationship.

“If it's another bullshit excuse, I don't want to hear it,” he scolded as he stalked towards you.

He wasn't even giving you the chance to defend yourself, and frankly, it was pissing you off even more than his stupid questions.

“Rafe, I don't even know what you're talking about; I literally-” you plead with your boyfriend, taking a step back for every step he took forward.

“Of course you ‘Dont know,’ you never do.” Rafe hissed at you, moving closer and closer.

“That's what you do; you act all fucking innocent and then sneak around behind my back.” the blonde accused.

“Do you think I'm stupid?” He sneered, backing you against the wall.

That was the final straw; now he was accusing you of cheating from a simple smile and an Instagram follow. I mean, how delusional could he be?

“Are you fucking crazy?” you asked him, eyebrows furrowed.

You could tell he was shocked at your response by the way his eyebrows arched upwards slightly, but you could also tell you pissed him off by the way his jaw ticked.

“What did you say to me?” He asked; he heard you loud and clear the first time; he just wanted to see if you had the guts to repeat it.

“Are you fucking crazy? I follow him on Instagram. So what? I can unfollow him if it's a problem.” you argued, shocked that this was even an issue.

Rafe's hand shot forward without warning, delivering a sharp slap to your face. Time momentarily slowed as the impact echoed through the room. As the sting of the slap registered, a deep sadness clouded your features. You hated to say it, but you were used to rafe hurting you.

“Who do you think you're talking to?” Rafe asked you. Blue eyes are darker than their everyday shade.

“Huh?” He scoffed, laughing slightly.

“Calling me crazy…talking to me like I'm the one in the wrong?” your boyfriend shouted as he snatched a big chuck of your hair, gripping it tight enough to bring tears to your eyes.

“Rafe, I-” you tried to defend yourself as tears clouded your vision.

“No, I'm talking now.” His voice boomed as he screamed in your ear.

Rafe slammed your head against the wall behind you, using your hair as leverage; at this point, your ears were ringing, your head was banging, and you couldn't speak from the pain alone. And Rafe just kept going on and on about how important trust is in a relationship, but how could you even listen when he was gripping your hair so tight? But obviously, Rafe didn't see this as punishment enough because he dragged you by the hair to his closet, and even as he rustled through his sock drawer, clearly looking for something, he didn't once let go of your hair.

“Rafe! Stop-” You were cut off by the feeling of ice gold metal pressed against your temple; you were completely frozen, not knowing what to do; there was no way your boyfriend was pressing a gun against your head over an Instagram follow.

“If you even look at john b again, your fucking dead.” Rafe threatened coldly.

Your heart was racing; Rafe was impulsive knowing him; you could breathe the wrong way, and he would pull the trigger. That didn't stop your breath from fasting and your tears from falling, though.

“You hear me?” he asked, pulling your hair back just enough to make eye contact.

You didn't say anything; you had been sobbing ever since you felt the metal against your head in the first place.

“Do you hear me?” He shook you, demanding an answer, “I will fucking kill you.”

“Yes!” you cried out, hoping and praying for him to put the gun down and let go of you.

And when you left his house that night, you had never returned. Rafe did have his good moments, but was he worth your life? You broke up with him over text the following day, and you hadn't seen him since.

Since today, as soon as you looked up from your lap, lost in thought, you made eye contact with Rafe. You felt sick when you saw him; you knew he would be here, but you weren't expecting to see him this soon.

You stood up, making your way through the separate groups of people; you needed to find somewhere you could be by yourself because right now, you felt like you might have a panic attack.

“Excuse me,” you repeated over and over as you drunkenly stumbled to the stairs. No one was upstairs, other than maybe a few people hooking up, but other than that, it was pretty empty. You looked for a room, apologizing when you opened the door to see Nora and Topper making out. You stumbled through the halls until you found an empty room, sighing in relief as you closed the door behind you.

Your relief was short-lived because you didn't realize that Rafe was following behind you the entire time, and when he entered the room, you instantly regretted isolating yourself from the rest of the party and your friends.

“No.” you panicked, anxiety rising deep within your stomach.

He was intentionally standing in front of the door. There was no way out.

“Hey, Listen, y/n-,” Rafe said calmly, trying to calm you down.

“No! Get away from me!” you interrupted words slurring, not wanting to hear a thing from him.

You had no desire to speak to Rafe, not after all he had put you through in your relationship, not after you had been in therapy for the past month to heal the pain he had caused you. He wasn't just a regular ex, Rafe was fucking crazy, and you both knew it; you knew he was waiting to see you in person again, probably planning it, planning out exactly how he was going to get you back and what he was going to do if you declined his offer.

“Can you just listen to me!?” he snapped at you, slightly losing his calm demeanor. “I just want to talk-” He said through his teeth, walking over to you and away from the door.

“Well, I don't want to talk!” you barely even knew what you were saying; your head was spinning, and you regretted every shot you had taken earlier.

“So that's how it's gonna be, huh?” Rafe mumbled to himself more than you, fist clenching as he spoke.

As he got closer and closer, the room seemed easier and easier to escape; you knew you couldn't scream for help because of the loud music banging throughout the house; no one would hear you, and you knew you couldn't put up the best fight because you were drunk and Rafe’s also way stronger than you, he had proved this time and time again.

So you took the opportunity to run for the door while you still could. But two steps in, Rafe had already caught you and wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly against his stiff chest.

“I didn't want to make this complicated.” he hissed into your ear. “But come on, y/n, it's almost like you want me to hurt you.”

You thrashed your body, wiggling side to side, trying to escape his grip.

“You’re fucking crazy!” You shouted as you continued to attempt to free yourself.

“Yes! I'm crazy,” Your ex admitted as his grip around you tightened, and his nostrils flared. “I'm crazy for you.” he dug his nails into your side.

“Get off of me!” you cried out, voice raw with emotion.

“You come to my best friend's party wearing the fucking dress I hate! Knowing I'm going to be here!” he criticized, pushing your body towards the bed. “It's almost like you want me to take it off.”

“Rafe, stop, I-” you were cut off by Rafe throwing you on the bed and wrapping his hands around your throat as he hovered over you.

“Shut the fuck up!” He sneered, looking down at you with dark eyes.

“You fucking left me!” His grip got tighter the more he spoke. “Not even a call, but a fucking text.” he scolded. “Do I really mean that little to you?”

You didn't end things the way you did because you didn't care about Rafe; you cared about Rafe so much, more than you ever wanted to, and that hurt; throughout everything he's done to you, all the pain he's caused you, you still cared. You broke up with Rafe over text because you were terrified; he had threatened to kill you over an Instagram follow; you couldn't imagine what he would have done if you dared to break up with him in person.

But you couldn't say any of that because he was choking you so hard that you couldn't breathe, let alone speak; all you could do was hit his hands repeatedly, hoping he would let go.

“You didn't care about my feelings. Why should I care about yours?” He asked you, looking deeply into your bloodshot, teary eyes with his blue angry ones.

Your mind was racing; Rafe was actually going to kill you. You saw this day coming many times throughout your relationship, but you didn't expect it to happen when you guys were finished. You had shared your body, your mind, everything with him, and you had been happy it was over; you finally were starting to feel like yourself again. But now he was going to take that all away from you.

Rafe finally let go when he started to see your eyes roll back as you started to lose consciousness.

You gasped for air in between coughs as you held your throat, desperate to soothe it from the pain he caused with his harsh grip. You had accepted death. You knew exactly who you were dealing with, and the thought of him killing you over a breakup wasn't too far-fetched.

“You have a lot of making-up to do after the stunt you pulled last month,” Rafe sighed as if he was inconvenienced by what he was doing to you.

The stunt you pulled? Your break up was serious, and for a good reason; he was lucky you hadn't called the police; if anyone had pulled a ‘stunt,’ it was him. He had pulled a series of stunts throughout your whole relationship. He was pulling one now.

Before you knew it, Rafe was tugging at your dress, attempting to pull it off you. If there was one thing you weren't doing, it was going down without a fight. You tried your best to kick him and scratch him, everything, but you were drunk, had just been choked, and Rafe was much stronger than you, so he pinned your wrist above your head with one hand and pulled the bottom of your dress up with the other.

“Remember this, y/n,” He said as he positioned himself up against your cunt. “Remember this feeling the next time you think about trying to leave.” He taunted before pushing into you roughly.

As he thrusted into you repeatedly at a rough and harsh pace, you sobbed. You thought Rafe was behind you; you told yourself you would never let a man hurt you the way he did again. You were so happy when he was gone.

“Fuck, take this off,” Rafe moaned as he pulled your dress over your head.

With every hash thrust, your cries got louder. Rafe didn't care about your pleasure or even his; he wanted to hurt you; he wanted to see your tear-stained face. This was your punishment, and he was succeeding. The only thing you felt between your legs was severe pain.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” you heard everyone downstairs scream in unison.

“Happy New Year,” Rafe smirked as he pulled you in for a rough, sloppy kiss.

Rafe was fucking crazy.

#dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #dark rafe cameron #obx fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #dark rafe x reader #obx imagine #rafe cameron imagine #rafe obx #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #outer banks #dark!rafe x reader #dark!fic

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femsolid · 1 year

Text

When I was in domestic abuse support groups over on Facebook I quickly noticed that there were a lot of abusive men in it. They claimed to be victims of course. In fact they were convinced to be. They had read up on "narcissistic abuse" and truly believed that their partner or ex was one. In the group I'd see a daily flood of women describing the most horrid shit and the trauma inflicted on them. But men's most common complaint was that their wives had been "withholding sex" which really is a form of abuse they said. Another way these men suffered from domestic abuse was through being dumped. They described a woman leaving them as a form of abuse. So two of the most common ways men are abused are... by women exercising their own free will. Obviously when men describe abuse in such a way you know they are abusive. For example, the complaints about "withholding sex" as abusive are admissions of attempted rapes through coercion and guilt tripping.

Another way women abuse men is by letting them do chores of course. One kept spamming about it, taking before and after pictures of the dishes he did while his obviously mentally unstable cruel bitch of a wife was playing with the kids. I screenshoted everything and sent it to her. And yet another fascinating post was this man, obviously another victim, who saw his ex's new boyfriend while driving and decided to follow him, as victims do. He followed him for a long while, as victims do, before the new boyfriend supposedly parked near a motel where he met a woman. Our victim parked too and watched with glee as his ex was being cheated on. When I pointed out that, no, this is not what victims do and that he was telling on himself by describing how he follows people like a creep he cried that I wasn't allowed to question him because it's a safe space for victims and it's against the rules call a moderator please help etc. That's the thing with these groups: men go in there to feel vindicated and they are. Women immediately approve and help men pathologise women based on nothing and certainly not actual descriptions of abuse. The women don't realise that they are helping a man abuse a woman. Hundreds of comments calling a woman a narcissist and the man feeling justified in taking revenge on that woman. And me being told I'm too mean.

But you know what men write the most about in those groups? How we talk too much about women being abused and not enough about men. It upsets them to see women being listened to. And again, women approve by the hundreds, "yes poor men, women can be just as evil" and on and on, ironically disproving what men are claiming: men are not ignored, they are taken way too seriously as a matter of fact.

This guy posted about being abused again, how he "fell for it" once more, how he "should have known better". He had met a woman and she had "used" him you see. Cue to the choral of women offering him support without questions. So I asked one: how did she use you? He responded that, well, she didn't really use him per say, she asked him for help, he helped, she thanked him and that was it. They weren't dating. He had met a random woman and helped her and she hadn't offered him anything in return (like her vagina, you know) she had just thanked him and that's abuse. Imagine that. Traumatised women describing really disturbing and upsetting events and men whining about women not being on their hands and knees. And both sides cohabiting in one group under the pretense that one is not oppressing the other because "domestic abuse has no gender".

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flamingpudding · 11 months

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Part 3 of Ghost Kid in Gotham

<<1 Previous Next

Feral brother of mine

When Damien first saw the video from Todd's helmet he only thought of his older brother as an imbecile that apparently couldn't handle children that was until Drake paused the video on the child's face before the video cut off.

Then Richard pointed out the similarities to Damien and of course his first thought was that his mother had made another clone again that they would need to dispose of. That was until he took a closer look at the image when Drake zoomed in. It was still blurry but Damien would recognise that face anywhere and in any state.

Despite his memory being faded it was the face of someone he never wanted to forget and would let freely hunt his dreams. Even if it was to recall the good times or even the bad times through nightmares. Freckles that mirrored constellations and scar by the ear from a training session when the others' dodging ability had not yet been up to par when they were five. Hair longer than his own and less tameable.

Danyal Al Ghul.

His twin that he killed at the age of eight when their grandfather forced them into a fight to death. This was not a simple clone of Damien himself and the teen was pretty sure that his mother must have lost it. Because what else then a clone of his own brother could this be, she probably must have preserved some of Danyal's DNA if not his entire body for this. He must also applaud her cruelty, for the clone was at the exact age his brother had died at.

He does not know why nor how his mother had managed to cause glowing Lazarus green eyes. None of his clones had ever shown these before but a part of him didn't want to know. It already made him sick enough to know that his mother would go so far as to clone Danyal.

All he wanted was to get rid of this cruel clone that wore his long dead brother's face. The knowledge of his brother was something Damien held dear. It was something that belonged to him only and the burden of his death was not something he ever wanted to share either. Besides what use would it be to his family to mourn a member they never would have gotten to meet.

Even as he glared at Todd, who had let loose the feral clone. He could not bring himself to tell them that this was most likely not just a simple clone of himself.

"Come on guys, there is a child running around the Bat Cave. You can fight later about how to safely keep the boy in check."

Clicking his tongue he turned away from his older siblings and drew out his katana. "<tt> I will get rid of that thing myself."

A thing, that was what it was. Damien didn't need his personal feelings or his memories of a twin that could smile brighter than the desert sun despite their pain, get in the way of his rationality. He could not allow this mockery of his twin brother to live on.

He went for the darker areas of the Cave knowing the league trained mind and he was in luck as he was the first to find the feral child hidden away in the area that lead to the medbay. By now the thing was even armed. Damien recognised the dagger as one of his training once, he probably had accidentally left it out of its casing after training right before patrol.

The ex-league prodigy did not give the clone time to react as he attacked without warning. Chasing it through the Bat Cave as it avoided his attacks yet made no move to attack him the way it had Todd. At times the way it dodged made Damien stutter slightly something that never happened before. He slashed at it, ignoring his siblings that shouted for him to stop from the side lines. Ignoring the flashes in his mind of a fight years ago that was similar yet so different.

"I will not let this mockery run free." He muttered pointing his blade as it hissed at him in return. What a feral thing it was, he waited for it to make the first move this time. Clones were not perfect, their forms were lacking, They might retain skills of their original but they rarely were the same let alone cable of thinking outside of what their creator, his mother wanted. He pointedly ignored anything he new about certain clones. They weren't created by his mother, therefore did not count in regards to his conclusion. Yet it was painful seeing this mockery of his dead brother appearing like a perfect copy.

The stance it held with the dagger, despite the feral hissing and movements, it was the exact same his brother had. Sword stances, like martial arts stances had a basic form, every wielder learned and then developed further into their own unique one with time. Danyal had one where he tended to hold the dagger or even swords backwards in his left hand while his right arm covered his empty side with a slight tilt to the back, always ready to reach for any weapon he would carry in hidden pockets on his back.

It was painful to see this clone, this thing mimicking his brother's stand this perfectly. Damien could only narrow his eyes in determination, or was it desperation by now? This was just one more reason to get rid of it. It just hurt even more when with a quick gaze towards the hand that held the dagger Damien also noticed a bad habit his brother had always retained and the league had also never been able to train out of him. It was a small habit, unnoticeable if you wouldn't look for it, yet dangerous to the sword / dagger wielder if they were inexperienced.

Danyal tended to let his thumb rest against the guard if the blade had one or against the blade itself even if it didn't have one. He knows that his twin used to have scaring on his thumb from this habit, especially from their early training years.

This thing was even imitating his brother's habit.

He wanted it gone. Rip it apart and present it to his mother with all the anger and grief it brought to him.

"Guys stop Damien now! That is not a clone!" He heard Drake yell from where the Batcomputer was but he didn't care. This was a clone, so he lunged at the it again. Ignoring how the clone had studied him like he had it. Ignoring how its stance had changed the longer they had watched each other and how that thing let its guard down all of a sudden.

"Damien! Stop!"

It dropped all defenses and Damien could only see that as his chance to deal the final blow to get rid of it. But what he didn't expect despite the dropped defenses was for the clone to also just drop the dagger, close its eyes and smile. The same smile that still hunted his nightmares. His mind flashed back to eight years ago.

"Demon brat! Calm the fuck down!"

The blade stopped inches from the same fatal placement that had killed his brother before. Drake and Richard were right behind him while Todd was by the clone's side gripping at the blade with his bare hands, most likely bleeding already.

"Why?" Damien uttered quietly, his eyes trained on the thing. Richard must have thought that his question had been directed towards them stopping him but that wasn't the case.

"Look Dami, how about listening to what Tim found out first before we decide what to do with that child?"

"Not you." He couldn't help but snap back at them as he withdrew his katana, hearing Todd mutter something about sharp blades and bandaids as well as several curses under his breath. His eyes stayed on the thing. "Why would you let me kill you? Why drop your defence ces? Why not dodge?"

The thing titled its head its glowing green eyes were trained on Damien and he noticed how they flickered into a blue that was so familiar yet so different with the way they glowed. It made chirping noises before it whispered something.

"ahbak, Dami"

Damien froze for a moment there at the quiet words the thing had whispered. How was he supposed to react now? Was this even a clone, no he knew this was a clone. There was no way Danyal was alive let alone still eight years old. He had killed his own brother, he had held him in his own arms as Danyal took his final breath, smiling at him and uttering the same words he had just heard again after so many years.

Even if Danyal had survived somehow then he should be the same age as him. Not the age he had died at. Besides, their grandfather would have never allowed them to use the pits to revive his twin.

"FUCK!"

Intentionally or not Todd's outcry had ripped him out of his thoughts by a rather pathetic yowl of pain. It was like a switch had been flipped in the clone's mind as his brother had reached out to probably detain it again. The moment Todd had touched him, the thing had bitten into his hand before letting go, hissing and running away from them once more.

But instead of running after that thing Damien stood frozen in place, his mind still racing. He could feel Richard's hands on his shoulders, grounding the teenager with the warmth they provided. "You okay there Baby Bird? You seem rather out of it suddenly."

"<tt> I am fine." His only offered answer, ignoring the worried looks he was getting as he moved to wipe Todd's blood off his blade. He needed a distraction before his mind became any more chaotic and unreasonable. "What did Drake find out?"

"Right… you sure you want to hear that right now?" Giving Richard an unimpressed stare, the oldest sighed looking over towards Drake.

"Well I got good news and probably bad news." Side eyeing his brother Damien kept silent waiting for him to continue.

"I can safely say that the child is not a clone. His DNA does not 100% match yours. It differs too much but - and this is where it's probably bad news - it matches with you to 45%, with a matching to Bruce to about 50%, same with Talia. If I run a paternity test I am sure it would be a hit for Bruce and Talia."

Damien swallowed taking in that information, knowing what it meant. Was he horrified? Yes. Did it also awaken a strange sort of hope? Also, Yes.

"But there was a third compartment of the child's DNA structure which was impossible to test. It could even corrupt DNA samples if not taken apart from the rest. It probably has something to do with the green specs I found in his blood too. So I ran a substance analysis and - you probably won't like this - but it got a hit from a substance we have recorded in our database."

"What substance?" Damien knew, he just knew he wouldn't like the next words Drake would say. He could feel Richard squeezing his shoulder as if to help him keep stable.

"Lazarus Water. It matched with what we have recorded from the Lazarus Pits."

"Drake, are you telling me that after eight years, my mother who apparently had preserved my dead twin brother's body, dropped said body into the Lazarus Pits to revive him and then drop him off with Todd of all people?"

"Yes, wait… dead twin brother's body?"

#danny fenton #danny phantom #danny and damian are twins #de aged danny #dp x dc #feral danny #fanfic #damian wayne #jason todd #tim drake #richard grayson #dc x dp #unedited #crossover #no beta wie die like danny #he still only bites jason #I have no idea if I used ahbak correctly #still learning how to best blog fanfics here #dpxdc

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 months

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AITA for letting my dog correct (nip) my niece to prove a point and refusing to punish him?

I own an ex-K9 called Biggles. Biggles is impeccably trained, a total gentleman when you're not being an asshole to him, but also has no time for your bullshit. He'll tolerate a lot more hassle from the younger kids in our family, but if they're allowed to persist in bullying him, he will correct them, just like he would the adults of the family.

Mostly Biggles will just push them over and walk away. Its his way of saying to leave him alone. Sometimes he'll bark loudly, a kind of 'fuck off now' bark. At the very extreme, he'll give them a tiny little warning nip on the arm or hand.

(Biggles has only ever nip corrected kids twice in all the years I've had him. Once when my cousin thought it was 'cute' to dump her toddler right on top of Biggles and let him rip at his fur and try to bite at his face, and once when my nephew was having a tantrum, Biggles tried to snuggle up to him to soothe him and my nephew hit him in the face.)

I firmly believe in learning how your pet communicates and respecting their reasonable boundaries. To me, if you're yanking on a dog's tail and ignoring everyone warning you to stop and you get a nip to the back of the hand for it, that's a valid consequence of your actions and you've just learned to respect the dog enough not to try pulling its tail out of its spine.

(This likely seems unfathomable to a lot of you, but I must clarify that Biggles isn't some hyper-reactive aggressive, dangerous dog like my sister thinks. He will more than happily play around with the little ones, faux wrestle with them, let them paw all over him and fuss at him, ect. He loves children, they're his babies. He does not love being in pain, and if the person causing it will not respect him or me enough to listen to my warnings, I believe they earn it when he warns them too.)

Anyway. Like you might've guessed, yanking on his tail was what my niece was doing at the beer-and-barbeque this weekend. I told her not to. My parents told her not to. Even my sister half-assedly suggested 'maybe Biggles wants to play a different game.' Biggles got up and moved away from her twice and she followed him both times to 'keep playing.'

My entire family knows how Biggles works. I warned my sister Biggles wouldn't tolerate what was happening. My sister told me I shouldn't own such a dangerous, unpredictable dog and he should be put down if he can't handle some 'rough love from a kid.'

(This was not rough love. This was my niece literally ripping at his tail thinking his pain responses were funny.)

I didn't want to cause a scene or subject Biggles to further harassment so I decided just once I'd cave and take Biggles inside so he could get some peace and I could enjoy my burnt ends without my sister squealing in my ear about being cruel to her child by telling her off.

Unfortunately, Biggles' patience ran out before I could make my way over. My niece yanked at his tail again, hard enough that it actually jolted him on the grass, and Biggles whipped around and nipped at her hand. I got to see her hand afterward and there was just a little red mark, no blood or broken skin. He'd just pinched her a little.

My niece screamed bloody murder like he'd taken her hand off and my sister screamed bloody murder about my 'vicious animal.' It devolved into a massive family-wide argument against my sister because my entire family knows its just basic respect and kindness not to cause an animal pain deliberately, and that its my sister's fault for not listening to anyone when we all told her and my niece not to hurt Biggles.

My sister stormed off and has since been blowing up the entire family demanding that Biggles be put down. She's threatened to call the cops, animal control, you name it. None of us are worried about that. There wasn't even a proper mark left on her hand and Biggles will pass any behavioral test with flying colors, but my sister is giving everyone grief and is refusing to attend any family events if Biggles will be there.

My dad is firmly on my side, but my mom is imploring me to just fake apologise to get some peace back. When I recounted the story to my colleague this morning, he said she got what she earned, but also why would I bring Biggles to an event I knew a disrespectful little shit of a kid was at?

I don't feel like an asshole in terms of allowing my dog to establish his boundaries. In my and my family's opinion pets are their own entities and should be treated with belonging and respect when part of a family. Its also just common sense not to cause an animal pain for the fun of it.

However, I'm also very aware that getting nipped by a dog, especially at such a young age, can be catastrophic. My niece could be terrified of dogs for the rest of her life, and while I don't feel guilty she got corrected, I do feel somewhat guilty that I didn't intervene sooner and have possibly set her up for failure in the future. And I do feel like an asshole for letting it get to that point, but it did all happen pretty quickly.

All things considered I do love my niece, she's family, she just gets away with murder because my sister thinks being a little girl is an automatic pass to do whatever you want without consequence.

I've probably painted Biggles out in a real bad light here, but I can assure you that in general Biggles is the perfect family dog. He's loving, playful, he tries to share his kibble with everyone at dinner, he helped us teach my uncle's puppy tricks and how to behave and potty outside ect.

So I guess I'm really asking am I the asshole in this situation, as the one responsible for Biggles?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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c-nstantine · 5 months

Text

sense of normalcy

description: Jason & Black!Batmom in four stages of his life

word count: 1.2k

warnings: angst, death, mommy issues, grieving, talks about Jason's death a lot

Jason: Age 12

Bruce had warned Alfred that there would be a guest joining him and of course, Alfred told Y/N. She was more than excited to have someone visiting the manor. It had been lonely since Dick struck out on his own. He visited but it wasn't the same as having a kid running around the manor.

"Who might you be?" Y/N said approaching the boy who Bruce helped out of the Batmobile. He was rather lean for his height but his eyes looked like they sparkled as if the world never did him wrong. Y/N felt a pang in her heart and she looked towards Bruce who avoided her gaze.

"Jason Todd. You're on TV." He recognized the woman from the TVs that were on display in the stores that he passed as he walked down the street. Alfred had rushed back upstairs to fix the young boy something to eat.

"Sometimes, how would you like to stay with Bruce and me?" She had already decided that he would stay. She couldn't let the boy go back to whatever back alley Bruce found him on.

"I'd love to," The boy's eyes twinkled once more as he smiled at Y/N.

Jason: Age 16

Jason was a good kid. He promised Y/N that he would be a good kid. He got good grades, and he excelled at English. Entering his teenage years, he only grew closer and more protective of Y/N but Y/N still saw him as the lean little boy who tried to steal the hubcaps off of the Batmobile.

"Why is my son here?" Y/N asked, not even bothering to sit in the principal's chair. Her son had not a scratch on his face but he did have a bruised knuckle that definitely wasn't from patrol.

"He got into a fight, Mrs. Wayne," The principal of Gotham Academy said a bit smugly. Jason hated it here. He loved the teachers and learning but the kids were assholes. Not all of them, but the ones who thought he didn't belong because he wasn't born to the money. Kids could be cruel.

"Jason?" Y/N tilted her head towards her son, softening her gaze.

"He was making fun of me for being adopted and my accent," Jason spoke differently than the preppy kids of Gotham Academy but Y/N always encouraged him to speak how he wanted. His words were a part of him and he shouldn't have to change it for anyone.

"So my son was being bullied and he defended himself. Does that sound good to you, Principal Paulette?" Y/N gave the fakest smile known to the man while brushing faux loc behind her ear.

"It sounds perfect, Mrs. Wayne," Principal Paulette simply groaned.

"C'mon, Jason. We're getting ice cream." She smiled and waved for her son to follow her out of the office.

"Bruce is gonna be upset you're rewarding me," Jason said mixing his bowl of scooped chocolate chip ice cream together until it became the consistency of soft serve. He couldn't meet her eye yet. He felt like he had disappointed her and that maybe she regretted keeping him. What he didn't know is that he could never do anything that would make her not love him.

"You know I'll always love you, right? No matter what those kids say," Y/N said reaching over the table to ruffle his hair. He styled every morning with an absurd amount of gel but it didn't look like him.

"I know, ma, I know," He heard the words and wanted to believe them but he already decided that he'd leave and find his real mother. In his mind, she wouldn't miss him anyway, right?

"Good 'cause you my baby boy," She said with a bright smile.

He was in pain and cold. His mind was drifting in and out of consciousness. The faint beeping of the bombs was heard in the background and tears fell from his eyes as he realized this was his end. This was it. He was gonna meet the great big man in the sky and he didn't get to say goodbye to Y/N. He could die with disappointing Bruce but Y/N. Y/N had never seen him as more than a boy because that's what he was. He was just a child who didn't get to say goodbye to his mom.

Jason: Deceased

Y/N was pacing a hole in the carpet. She stood in the study of Wayne Manor waiting here something, anything, back from Bruce. He hadn't contacted her since he left to find Jason and that was days ago.

"You said he'd come back," She said as Bruce walked through the grandfather clock entrance of the study. She noticed there was no Jason, she could hear his laughter like he normally did when he returned from a night out.

"Y/N," Bruce could see his wife about cry right in front of them. She tried to blink away tears so that they wouldn't fall down her brown cheeks. He could tell she hadn't been sleeping with Jason missing.

"You went to go get him. Where is he?" Y/N asked again with a bit more authority.

"Honey, sit down. Alfred, bring her some tea," Bruce was trying to put the words together but Y/N simply fell apart on the couch.

"No, don't tell me that, "She knew exactly what that meant, "He was just a baby," She whispered as Bruce held her in his arms.

Jason: Age 22

"Ma?" Jason called for her as she was putting Martha and Alfred down for a nap. Y/N walked out of the nursery and closed the door behind her. His mom had aged a little since she took him home but not too much. Sure she had grey hairs mixed into her silk press but she was still the exact same woman who loved him at first sight.

"Yeah, Jason," She looked up at her son with a bright smile. Jason now towered her but he'd always be her baby boy.

"I'm sorry," Jason said quickly. He had been holding it in since he died. He never told anyone but in the last moments before his death, he regretted not telling Y/N he loved her more and how much he'd miss her.

"What are you sorry for?" Y/N asked tilting her head slightly.

"I'm sorry for leaving that night. I'm sorry for hurting you. I never wanted to hurt you," Jason's voice cracked as he moved to hug his mom. He didn't know how much pain one decision could cause.

"Oh, baby," She said rubbing his back. She felt tears coming to her eyes as she felt his on her cheek.

"I'm sorry, ma, I'm so sorry," He muttered over and over again. His face had flushed red against her brown skin. Bruce had seen the moment but decided it was best for him not to interfere but he was happy to see Jason working through his emotions.

"You're here now and that's all I've ever wanted, okay? How about some ice cream?" Y/N said pulling away gently. Ice cream was one of her biggest pregnancy cravings so now they have a lifetime of Bluebell in their deep freezer.

"Yeah, ma," Jason spoke with a small smile. He was finally back to a sense of normalcy.

#x black!reader #black!reader #x black reader #black reader #bruce wayne x black!reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #black!batmom #jason todd #jason todd angst #jason todd x reader #jason todd x batmom

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ethansluvbot · 1 year

Note

riding ethan for the first time please!!! love your writing btw<3

CRUEL SUMMER | SUB!ETHAN LANDRY

warnings: adult content, spoilers?, rough sex, riding, unprotected sex, and smut :)

an: i just got really sick randomly? anyways, i'm so so sorry for not posting in awhile. i just started a new school and even though its the end of the year its stressful. it also didn't help that i had horrible writers block. also, I've never written smut before so i will get better at this eventually! i'm binge watching the harry potter movies while eating soup now lol.

with a ton of convincing from sam, ethan and tara you decided to volunteer for a summer camp. sure, spending you day with kids had its downs, but you enjoyed seeing ethan interact with kids.

the kids screams filled your ears as you run to pick up their messes. the sticky hair didn't help your anxiety at all. you sat next to sam with your head on her shoulder.

"how did you convince me to do this shit?"

a quick slap hit your shoulder as you let out a yelp, "no cursing, there's kids around. plus you could never say no to ethan, it looks like he's enjoying it."

"i know. he's been going on about this since january.," you know ethan was a total soft guy, he never would harm a soul. it took him awhile but he finally convinced you to help out.

you both heard footsteps approach you, a sigh came out as you saw his shoes. immediately you jump up and wrap your arms around his neck.

"thank god you're here to save me from sam, she's trying to make me actually do something." he let out a chuckle as he waved to sam.

"im here to take you away," he smirked as you smiled back at sam. you heard her softly gagging beginning to walk away.

"hey! i missed you today, it seemed like you were having fun with your cabin."

"i was! i actually taught a kid how to swim today." you grabbed on to his hand. you loved this side of ethan the soft, dorky and funny side of him to be exact.

"umm, i was wondering where you see us in the future? i know we have a little until we finish college but it's been on my mind."

"well, to be exact i see us in well paying jobs, a modern family home and hopefully kids of our own." you felt his mood shift with that. you might've not been the most kid involved person, but it was great to know you would consider the idea.

you both stepped into the cabin immediately grabbing pajamas. you felt ethans shattered breath at your neck. turning around you slinked your arms around his torso.

"can i help you?"

"god- i want to kiss you so bad right now."

you gave in to ethans innocent act, attaching both of your lips. his cold hands found his way up your back as you moaned in surprise. he hummed in pleasure, kissing down your stomach.

you flip the two of you over, "i wanted to try something new if that's fine?"

he nodded intently, he trusted you with his life and knew you wouldn't do anything to hurt either of you. he's desperate to finally get you undressed as he tugs at your pants.

"someones needy," you tease unbuttoning your jean shorts. his hands explored your body, undoing your bra and throwing it to the side. ethan was already undressed by the time you turned around.

"lay down."

he threw his head back as you pushed yourself down onto his cock. you put your hand over his mouth being careful not to arouse any suspicion.

"will you be a good boy and be quiet?" he hummed in response, "words baby."

"yes, ill be good," he let a muffeled whined out.

you let your nails scratch down his abs as you begin to move. his fingers begin to trace circles on your clit as you bounce. you were still adjusting to his size but since ethan was so eager you began to move.

"don't stop," he lets an exaggerated sigh come out of his mouth. you grab his chin making him look at you. he keeps his hands on your hips as you trail kisses down his neck.

you rested your hands on his chest helping him move you. even without him speaking he could tell he enjoyed this greatly. you felt his hand kneed at your ass.

looking down you see his glossy eyes look up at you, "aw, poor baby. are you not getting enough attention."

you were almost using him for your own pleasure, which you felt bad but, oh did it feel so good. he was getting anxious as you felt him squirming.

you felt him thrust into you a few more times. you could feel his tenseness, only meaning that he was reaching his high. leaning down you planted a kiss onto his lips.

"oh fuck- i love you."

#ethan landry #jack champion #scream 6 #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x reader #jack champion x reader #scream 6 imagines #avatar #scream imagine

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luveline · 2 years

Note

could you maybe write struggling single dad!eddie? ily!!! 😘

love you! hope this is okay :D I did girl dad!eddie because ♡ fem!reader

Juggling car keys, a brown paper bag of groceries and a toddler that refuses to be put down today is not easy. And she's not always like this, Roan's usually a sweet (if quiet) girl who makes Eddie's life as easy as she can. A blessing, he thanks God or whoever for her everyday, but lately she's been clingy as climbing ivy.

"Babe," he says, stress seeping into the pet name and making it more chiding than he means, "could you relax?"

She glares at him. She's a mirror.

"You're being so mean to daddy today, you know that?"

She ignores him, small hands in the collar of his last nice work shirt and pulling. He can't stop her from stretching it out, doesn't have a hand free to pull her away and the shitty cruiser he swapped his beloved van for is still locked up tight.

"Baby, stop!" he scolds.

She looks like she might have a tantrum if she could. Roan pulls her hands away but starts to grizzle, a sniffle that turns loud that turns to full blown tears. He can't tell if they're crocodile tears or not. He feels awful anyhow.

Roan brings a hand up to slap his shoulder. Her fingers get caught in the fabric of his collar and she tugs to get free, jabbing herself in the eye with the back of her hand.

Her resulting cry is awful. Real, heart-hurting, Eddie forgets to be mad and starts shushing her gently. He presses his back sweaty with exertion against the cold window of the back seat door and pulls her in as close as he can.

"It's okay, sweetheart," he says softly.

She shrieks and hits the grocery bag. It topples. The groceries go everywhere. An orange rolls into the parking lot.

"Roan," he complains, defeated.

Patience, he thinks to himself desperately. Patience. She doesn't mean to.

He can't afford stuff like this. The time it takes to do simple things like get groceries feels expensive enough — he could be pressing Roan's clothes right now, or swapping out that cracked neck on the black Gibson so he can finally get paid for it, or fuck, he could be smoking a goddamn cigarette.

He sets her down. She screams bloody murder but he doesn't have a choice. He has to chase down the dispersed groceries desperately, cheeks pink with embarrassment.

Being a parent has made him hyper aware of other people's judgmental looks. He can feel eyes now on the top of his head and Eddie knows it's that cruel looking blonde woman from the cold cuts aisle who'd tried to lecture him on processed ham.

He picks his head up, words already rehearsed in his head. Lady, if you don't leave me alone I swear to fuck I'm gonna feed her nothing but TV dinners for the rest of her life. She's gonna be a junk food baby and you'll have no one to blame but yourself.

Only It's not the lady. It's a girl.

You wither under his fierce scowl and offer the two oranges in your hand to him unsurely.

"Sorry," you say, shifting forward a half step. "They rolled my way."

He accepts the oranges without talking, which is rude, so rude, but his heads already decided the order of things before his mouth can catch up. Shove the groceries in the bag. Put the bag on the floor. Pick up his kid. Help her calm down.

He hikes Roan onto his hip, rubs her back, and says, "God, I'm sorry. I thought you were someone else."

You visibly relax. Eddie's surprised you didn't turn tail and run.

"Yeah? Do I have a doppelganger?" you ask. You smile in this way that's totally your own, Eddie's never seen someone grin like that before. Maybe a little shy and the shyness is making you awkward, teeth peeking out, you're pretty.

He's shocked at the thought. She's pretty.

Years of womanising (with varying success) kicks in.

"No, God no. She wasn't nearly as pretty as you are, sweetheart."

Roan seems to realise that she's not the object of his whole affection and pulls on his hair. Eddie let's his head yank to the side with a hiss and then a rueful smile. The world skews. You follow his head movement with your own.

"Is that so? I guess you'd know all about pretty," you say, head dipped to your shoulder.

Eddie gets super excited thinking he's actually managed to pull this one off (a fucking impossibility).

You hold your hand out hesitantly and wave. He realises you had not been talking about him.

"You- Oh, yeah. She's lovely, isn't she?"

You beam. "'Lovely,'" you quote. "That's a nice word." Your attention slides to Roan. She basks in it. "Hey, baby. You're just something else, aren't you? You know! You know how pretty you are, don't go shy on me."

Roan goes smiley. Chubby cheeks full of colour, she grins and pulls her dark curls in front of her face. Like father, like daughter.

"What's her name?" you ask.

"Roan. I'm Eddie."

You introduce yourself, bent just slightly to talk directly to Roan. You offer your hand.

When Roan takes it, you shake her tiny hand gently and then rub your thumb over her fingers. "Nice to meet you, princess."

"Hi," she says slowly.

You give her hand a small squeeze and then take a step back, arms moving behind you. "God, she's a pretty baby. And she looks so much like you."

"Yeah?" he asks warmly.

You realise what you've said with a look like you've been struck. After a second, you blink and laugh self-consciously. "Well. It's true."

He's out of the game. He's miles away from the game. But if he doesn't ask you for coffee that's gotta be self sabotage, right? Eddie's trying to find the words when you take a strange breath.

"Listen, I've seen you around and- I know this is weird. Sorry, but you really are- God. Sorry, but do you wanna get coffee? Sometime?" you ask, clunky and awkward.

Eddie's enamoured. He forgets to answer because he can't believe his luck and you take it for something different, adding, "Or not coffee? What does the little lady like?"

He must smile wide enough to split his lip. "Chocolate, mostly."

"Like cake and stuff?"

"Loves it."

You nibble at the inside of your lip as you pull your bag around to your thigh and search inside for a pen. You pull out a leaflet, a Save The Children Pamphlet they pass around outside of the mall and wince as you tear a corner.

He watches you write down your number on the hood of his car. You do it quick, pass it to him quicker.

"You can just call me, let me know when you're free."

"I'm free when you are," he says like a loser. It's not even remotely true. Eddie's never free, but for you he's gonna make it happen.

"How about Thursday?"

Eddie nods. Roan slips down his side and looks between you both like she's watching a tennis match.

"Yeah, Thursday is perfect."

You smile. Eddie takes it all in, everything, your smile and your hair and your clothes and the way your fingers pull at one another. He can't believe you're the nervous one right now. His heart spins like a top in his chest.

"I'm sorry to ask you out and jet, but there's somewhere I gotta be," you say. You sound genuinely apologetic.

"No, of course-"

"But I'll see you on Thrusday. Outside of, um, Morgan's Desserts?"

"Sure, but-"

"Yeah?" you ask.

"I can bring Roan?" he asks.

Your expression softens. "Please. If you don't I'm gonna stand you up."

He laughs abruptly, a shock of it like a firecracker in his chest.

You move like you might leave but then pick up his grocery bag and pass it back it to him. "Bye, princess," you pause to say, looking melted by his daughter's puppy dog eyes, if he does say so himself.

"Bye," she says sweetly.

You nod at him. He nods back.

"Thursday," he calls at your retreating figure. You know, to make sure.

You shoot him a smile over your shoulder.

Roan turns in his hold to stare at his face.

"What?" he asks her.

"Chocolate?" she questions.

"Heard that, did you?" he mutters.

more eddie and roan

#eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #fem!reader #eddie munson x reader blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #dad!eddie munson #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #eddie and roan

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yoonlattesworld · 1 year

Text

Love me Noona: JJK Teaser

Synposis: he is a strange man. You've thought this since the first day you met him. See, there are countless of pretty freshman girls in your college. Some of them so pretty that it made you wonder if he's blind or something. Because despite so many beautiful girls of his age dying to be with him, he wasn't even glancing at them. Why? Because he, Jeon jungkook, the most popular freshman in your college, was interested in you, a boring senior who'd rather die than attend a damn party. So even though he was a strange man, hearing him say "good morning Noona!" became a part of your morning routine.

Genre: Noona romance, smut, fluff, angst, pairing fresh man koo with senior mc,college au

Warnings: smut, older reader, riding, bold koo, tattooed koo, flirty koo, mentions of fight, koo punching someone, raw sex, a little cum play, grinding, switch koo, will be updated with the one shot.

Author's pov

"I can't believe we're getting so many assignments even with the exams coming" yoona grumbled as she angrily typed in her laptop. At this rate the poor laptop will start crying too.

Sighing tiredly you made a noise of agreement while rubbing your forehead because of the forming headache. "Mr Kim is cruel" you mumbled taking another sip of your iced coffee as another whine left yoona's lips.

A frown made its way to your face as you realised that you drank the whole cup as the only liquid coming through the straw was a few drops of water of the melting ice. Standing up with another sigh you looked at your equally tired best friend "you want anything? I'm going to the cafe"

She immediately nodded and smiled gratefully as she took out her wallet "one hot coffee please. My treat" you hummed with delight, taking her card "thank you" blowing her a kiss you let out a small giggle as she blowed one back and turned around. While walking towards the gate of your college,you heard some commotion and looked towards the noise for a second to see people forming a crowd around someone.

Thankfully the line wasn't too long so you were able to come back quickly. Perhaps you were too quick to get back to your seat and finish the damn assignment because one second you could see yoona waving at you and one second all you could see greyness and-

"oh my-!" you gasped sharply as you collided in a firm chest causing you to stumble back as both the drinks spilled from your hand. Your eyes were clenched shut as you waited for your body to fall on the hard ground but instead you felt muscular arms wrapping around your waist and your hands flied to grip whatever they could.

As you came back in your senses, the first thing you heard was a heart beat, and the next thing you heard was a low chuckle "you okay there?" and the last thing you heard was a raspy voice which sent chills down your spin. Your eyes widened as you hastily stepped back, now noticing that you were in the arms of an unfamiliar man.

Feeling a rush of embarrassment you bowed your head "i-im very sorry-" as you looked up, your breath got caught for the second time as your eyes took him in. When you felt his muscular body against you, you were sure that his face would be on the rougher side. So you were very surprised when you found yourself staring at a pair of big doe eyes and a small bunny smile.

"it's okay. It was my fault too" he raised his eyebrows and for a second you thought you were looking at a small kid. But then you also realised that you had to crane your neck upwards to look at his face properly. Even in his grey t shirt you could see the outlines of his muscles. The way his arms flexed as he raised his hand towards you "jungkook. Jeon jungkook "

Your eyes widened slightly as you quickly looked away and judging by the small smirk hanging on his Lips, you're sure he caught you checking him out "y/n. L/n y/n" smiling softly you took his hand, staring at how his hand fully engulfed yours. For a second he didn't leave your hand and kept looking at you but when you cleared your throat, he smiled, his hand leaving yours.

"y/n l/n 3rd year" you looked at him questioningly as he mumbled to himself but then noticed that he was looking at the Id card hanging on your neck "so you're a senior " he mumbled yet again and you wondered if he was talking to himself or you.

You were surprised when he looked at you with a smirk. The soft doe eyed face completely disappeared and instead you mischief in his eyes which seemed to sharpen with his smirk "then...." you hummed smiling at him as you saw a few people looking at you both out of the corner of your eye.

"Good morning Noona. I look forward to getting to know you"

For some reason you wondered if the tilt in his voice was your imagination or not. Because right now he was looking at you with eyes so intense that you felt your heart beat increasing.

Still, you smiled yet again as you nodded "likewise, jungkook"

#yoonlattesworld #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader smut #jungkook x reader fluff #jungkook fluff #jungkook one shot #bts one shot #yoongi x reader fluff #yoongi smut #love me Noona

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youronlydarlin · 3 months

Text

warning: wow. This one's lengthy, kinda dark! Johnny "Soap" Mactavish, implied older Soap, also implied age difference, he's in his forties while you're in your twenties, Soap being a pervert, Soap being the pettiest person on the whole planet, noncon/dubcon

Hmrmrmrmrm. Jus' thninkin bout' Pervert Johnny who you turn down at the bar. Rejecting the drink he's offered you, saying that you're not really looking for anything like that since your focusing on your studies at the moment.

Pervert Johnny who's just as stubborn as you are. He shouldn't have been shooting his shot in the first place, he's already got weird stares from the other patrons all cause his drunk ass was obviously hitting on someone that's probably young enough to be his kid.

Pervert Johnny who angrily beats his dick to the the thought of you after. He got rejected, that much was obvious. But s' not going to stop him. His pace is fast, and cruel all cause he thought he could get a cutie to spill into by the end of the night. Cums his brains out, and almost passes out. Wakes up the next mornin', and almost immediately does he have a plan on how to get back at you for bruising his ego.

Pervert Jonny who you thought you'll never hear from again, till all of a sudden theirs a cute guy your mom's been talking your ear off about. Saying about how, he's such a ladies man, the charming soldier that's aged like fine wine. You've always just laughed at it, happy that your ma's finally starting to get over your asshole of a dad who broke her heart. But you did find it oddly suspicious that they've already had plans about marriage, so soon, you thought. Too soon if you ask me.

Speaking of their wedding. You missed it. Total bummer. But it wasn't your fault when the date of it inconveniently clashed with your exam week. Everyone, not just you, were nose deep in books, spending the day away in the library. You apologized to your mom, and her boyfriend via letter. The guy must be extra shy or something because he refused to video call like you suggested to your mom. Anyways, the exam passes by like a breeze, and so does the wedding. You didn't really see both of them after. Your mom calling you and saying that they're already in their honeymoon. You don't worry too much, considering just how much the week's already taken out of you, so let's just say that this was a much needed rest.

Besides. You'll finally get to meet your mom's boyfriend, well, husband now, you guess. And what's the worst thing that could happen, right?

...

Never in your life did you expect to see him, again. Pervert Johnny, who turns into Pervert Step Dad Johnny. You just got back from your classes and there he is, rough hands on your mom's ass, and they have the audacity to act surprised. She excuses herself from him, giggling wildly like a school girl while she takes your face in her palms kissing it, and talking about how much she's missed you. While you can't help but look away from the man that's standing in your kitchen. But unlike you, he stares. And you don't miss the way he licks his lips at the helpless expression you have on.

Pervert Step Dad Johnny that likes to walk around shirtless. Always just in his gray sweatpants. You think he's doing it on purpose too, never wearing boxers so you could see the imprint of his cock. Doesn't even bother hiding the erections he get from you, always teasing, and saying "Eyes up here, lad/lass.." when you weren't even staring.

Pervert Step Dad Johnny who you hate with a passion. This has got to be the prettiest attempt at revenge you've ever seen, but you don't have it in your heart to tell your mom about her new husbands real intentions.

Pervert Step Dad Johnny who near pounces on you the moment your mom leaves for a business trip. Your bending over when all of a sudden he's behind you. Frothing his dick on your ass, and you don't even have the chance to scream or run away cause he's got one of his rough palms over your mouth. He pulls you close to his chest, and he pants like he's in heat, whispering the filthiest words to your ear.

Pervert Step Dad Johnny who magically convinced you to try his dick at least once. And that's how it starts :(.

Pervert Step Dad Johnny who gets you addicted to his dick. Knowing you'll come around in no time. He's always knew you'd be the prettiest whore. And he takes advantage of the fact that your mom, well, his wife, is out of the house. You learn so quickly too. Morning head from you's got to be his favorite part of starting the day.

Pervert Step Dad Johnny who dresses you up in the prettiest lingerie money can buy. Corsets, and laces. Stockings, and bows. You have a collection of all of them right now. Be careful though, tease him enough and your getting your cute little panties pulled to the side. His throbbing dick rearranging your guts, and you see it poke through your tummy. The perv definitely rubs at the bulge, talking about how happy he is, because his baby's giving him a baby too.

a/n: I don't know what possessed me to write this. I just wanted some older soap content, kinda, this is just my second post for the day so m' sorry if it's not enough to feed you guys 😞 but there's a project that's been needing some finalizing and because of that this might not be my finest work. But I'm hoping that your having a better day than I am, my loves! Remember to always take care of yourself!

Yours, truly,

–dolly

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x reader smut #cod imagine #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #x gn reader #x female reader #x male reader

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incognit0slut · 6 months

Text

Right Kind of Wrong (15)

She ever thought she’d be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Spencer is determined to find her whereabouts. wc: 3.5k

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide, mentions of SA

A/n: I want to thank everyone for sticking to this series, don’t worry, I didn’t forget it, life has just been weird lately😔 Also I want to mention there’s like 5 parts left? I think

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

"REID, NONE OF THIS IS YOUR FAULT."

Spencer wasn't sure how many times he heard those words. He knew they were told to bring him comfort, something his team members kept on reciting, yet a sense of skepticism gnawed at him. He couldn't shake the feeling that they were nothing more than lies. How could he not when the only thing he could do was blame himself for what happened?

His shoulders slumped, his eyes were filled with anguish, and his heart held a heavy burden of guilt.

He should've deduced the real Unsub.

He should've been the one keeping her safe.

You also should've never left her fucking house, you idiot.

He hated swearing, even if it was in his own mind—which, truthfully, was so much worse considering he despised being trapped in his own head. Possessing a psychology degree enabled him to understand the detrimental effects of being trapped within one's own thoughts, yet he couldn't escape the clutches of his own mind. The knowledge of this predicament weighed heavily on him, a cruel irony that he understood all too well.

"Pretty boy, are you even listening to me?"

He was, he just didn't want to respond. Morgan was the third person to say those words to him. The first came from JJ, who was the first one to assure him when he had a panic attack at the warehouse. Second was from Prentiss, who he met when he rushed to Y/n's house after collecting himself. And now Morgan was cornering him at the hospital as they waited for Sandy, laid in one of the rooms, to recover from her concussion.

"Reid."

"I heard you," he snapped. Then a thought occurred to him at Morgan's sudden knowledge of his involvement with their witness. "How did you know?"

"Know what?"

"The reason why I'm acting this way." He had to elaborate when Morgan merely raised his eyebrows. "Why I'm... blaming myself so much."

"Everyone knows you're involved with her. Heck, I knew it the first time we met her that night. Remember that? You pretended you didn't know her," Morgan recalled. "You weren't as subtle as you think."

God, that night seemed like it happened yesterday. He couldn't believe how much had happened, and to think she was just a stranger when he first met her, a stranger he would never see again... now all he could think about was her. Her smile. Her safety. His stomach churned. The guilt he felt was a relentless, gnawing ache that refused to let go.

Morgan suddenly pulled him. His sudden, determined grip propelled him toward the vending machine stationed at the far end of the hospital corridor. Irritated, he couldn't help but drag his feet along the floor. "What are you doing?"

"You need coffee," Morgan replied, "you function better with caffeine in your system."

"We need to wait for Sandy—"

"She's not going anywhere, Kid. There's no use hovering in front of her door now."

Reluctantly, Spencer gave in. He allowed his friend to pour a cup of coffee; the warmth and aroma offering a small comfort amidst the hospital's stark surroundings. Slowly, with a nod of gratitude, he accepted the cup from his outstretched hand.

"How are you holding up?" Morgan asked.

Spencer took a moment to collect his thoughts before responding to the question. "It's hard to process everything."

A heavy silence hung between them. Morgan's sigh broke the stillness, and he began, "Look, it's not—"

But Spencer cut him off, his voice tinged with guilt and self-blame. "Not my fault?" he said with a mix of frustration and anguish. "Morgan, I was there before it happened. I was at her house before I left to check the warehouse, just to step into his trap. The Unsub managed to pass through Officer Anderson and hurt her closest friend at the same time. If I was still there..."

"Reid, it's not about placing blame. You couldn't have known what would happen. The Unsub's actions were calculated and malicious, even if you had stayed, we can't predict how events would have unfolded." Morgan gave him a pointed look. "Blaming yourself won't help her, and it won't help you either."

Spencer's head shook with regret as he leaned against the cool hospital wall, his thoughts consumed by the painful memories of that night. "I hurt her," he confessed, his voice filled with remorse. "My words were hurtful, and so were my actions, and the thought of... the thought of her being in danger with the last thought of me—"

"We'll find her," Morgan assured him. "And when we do, you'll apologize to her for whatever happened."

Spencer gazed at him with a sense of desperation. In that instant, he unearthed a deep, previously unrecognized truth buried within his heart. It was a stark revelation, an understanding that struck him like a bolt of lightning amidst the storm of emotions he was weathering.

For the first time, he comprehended the true extent of his feelings. Until now, her presence in his life had been a catalyst, a spur-of-a-moment he never expected. He had taken her warmth for granted, never fully appreciating the depth of his attachment to her.

However, the threat to her safety had shattered his complacency. The fear of losing her, coupled with the regret of leaving their last interaction on such a bitter note, had awakened a realization within him. It hit him with a force that was as terrifying as it was enlightening. It was a moment of clarity, a realization that his feelings were far more significant than he had ever allowed himself to admit.

"You really like her, don't you?"

Spencer looked up, but before he could respond, his brief moment of vulnerability was abruptly interrupted by a sudden commotion. Without a second thought, he hastily left his coffee on a nearby chair and rushed toward the end of the hallway, Morgan following closely behind, as a doctor rushed into Sandy's room.

Between the flurry of medical staff, Spencer spotted a passing nurse and stepped into her line of vision. His voice was urgent, laced with concern as he asked, "What happened?"

The nurse delivered the news, "She's gaining consciousness," before swiftly disappearing into the room.

"We'll get some answers," Morgan reassured him from behind. "Don't worry, Reid, we'll find her."

Spencer nodded, his heart filled with a renewed sense of determination. The fact that Sandy had woken up was a glimmer of hope. It wasn't until a few minutes later the doctor emerged from the room, regarding the two men waiting in front of the door.

"She's awake and stable, but we'll need to monitor her for any potential complications." After a brief pause, the doctor continued, "It's apparent that she's still quite shaken. I would recommend that only one of you Agents speak with her."

They both nodded in agreement as the doctor left. Morgan turned toward Spencer. "You should talk to her."

He hesitated for a moment. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Morgan confirmed. "I'll go check on Oliver in the meantime."

Spencer's thoughts swirled with unease at the mention of Oliver, their suspected Unsub who had turned out to be a pawn in a larger scheme, who was lying unconscious on another floor. He nodded, and as Morgan walked away, he slowly gathered himself and entered the room.

Stark, white walls greeted him as he stepped inside, followed by the beeping sound of the monitors rhythmically punctuating the silence. Sandy lay in the bed, a fragile figure amidst the pristine white sheets. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling as he called out to her.

"Sandy?" Spencer carefully addressed her, observing the way she shifted on the bed before her gaze slowly met his. "I'm Dr. Spencer—"

"Reid," she finished for him, locking her gaze onto his with a surprising familiarity. "You're the FBI agent she's been talking about."

A moment of surprise shot through him, the realization that she had been talking about him caught him off guard. "She told you about me?"

"On a few occasions," she confessed, and then her gaze sharpened as she looked at him. "You hurt her."

Spencer's heart sank deeper, a heavy burden of guilt weighing him down. "What did she say?"

"She never really told us why she looked so sad that night, and considering you were mostly the topic of conversation when I was with her, I just assumed you had something to do with her mood swings."

His guilt deepened, yet he couldn't help but notice Sandy's choice of words. "Us? You both weren't alone?"

Sandy's gaze held a mixture of curiosity and concern. "What happened?" she pressed instead, her brows furrowing. "What happened after I passed out?"

Spencer took a hesitant step closer to the bed. "What do you remember?"

"I remember inhaling something disgusting."

He nodded gravely. "We suspect the Unsub used Chloroform on you."

Sandy's furrowed brow reflected both her confusion and unease. "What's an Unsub?"

"Unknown Subject, it's a term used when we haven't yet identified a suspect in a crime."

A heavy silence enveloped the room as Sandy absorbed the information. Her thoughts churned, and a growing sense of unease gnawed at her. A thought suddenly hit her. She glanced around the room, her anxiety mounting in the absence of her friend.

The question escaped her lips with an anxious edge to her voice. "Where's Y/n?"

Sandy didn't like the expression that crossed Spencer's face. It was a look that confirmed her worst suspicions, and a wave of dread washed over her as she braced herself for what he was about to say.

"We don't have that information," Spencer confessed, and the shock in her widened eyes was unmistakable. Her lips quivered as her thoughts raced, grappling with the gravity of the situation. She found herself haunted by guilt that this had somehow happened because of her.

"It's my fault," she whispered, her voice a mere breath, but the weight of her confession carried regret.

Spencer now understood what Morgan meant about avoiding self-blame. "It's not your fault," he reiterated. "Listen, there's no use in blaming yourself, what you can do is help us by recalling what you remembered that night."

Sandy's gaze remained troubled, but she eventually opened up about what had transpired, something he didn't see coming.

"I- It was Eric," she admitted, her voice trembling with the admission. "Eric came with me to her house."

Spencer was struck by shock and disbelief, his mind racing to process this revelation.

"Eric Adler?"

She nodded in confirmation, and his world collapsed.

Spencer wasn't perfect. He knew that, like anyone else, he could make mistakes. Typically, he accepted his humanity and the occasional errors that came with it. However, now was not the time for him to make any mistakes, not when her life hung on the line.

He felt like a complete idiot. He was renowned for his intellect and now it seemed as if his stupidity was mocking him. The realization of his own oversight infuriated him and a storm of anger surged through his veins. He was mad at himself, seething with frustration. He hastily fished out his phone and sent a message to Garcia.

Find everything you can on Eric Adler. Now.

Turning his gaze back to Sandy, his features shifted to a more grave demeanor. The urgency in his voice was palpable.

"Tell me everything you know."

Her head was spinning. Y/n groaned at the relentless ache throbbing inside her head. It felt as though a sledgehammer was pounding her skull, every throb sending ripples of pain through her. Her body felt heavy, each limb an effort to move, and her eyelids seemed to be fused.

She managed to shift, and it was at that moment, as her fingers brushed against the coarse bedcover, that she realized she was lying on what appeared to be a bed. The mattress beneath her was surprisingly comfortable, a stark contrast to the chaos inside her head. She shifted again, and after countless attempts, she finally managed to blink her eyes open.

"Took you long enough, Sleeping Beauty."

The voice sent a jolt of panic surging through her, eyes widening as she strained to focus on her surroundings. The room was shrouded in darkness, save for the faint, flickering glow of an old lamp perched on top of a crate. Occasional beams of moonlight pierced through the dusty window panes, casting eerie, uneven patterns on the wooden floor.

The unmistakable scent of hay filled her senses, reinforcing the realization that she was in an old, rustic barn, long past its days of use. The walls, rough and weathered, seemed to close in on her, the space surprisingly narrow with the mattress beneath her positioned by the floor.

But that wasn't what surprised her the most. It was Eric, seated on a wooden chair that had clearly seen better days, watching her intensely with a smile on his face.

"If you hadn't woke up earlier, I would have resorted to my own methods," his smile looked even more ominous. "And I can assure you, you wouldn't have liked it."

Her wide eyes remained fixed on him. What happened to her kind coworker? Or her good friend? This was an entirely different man that she knew of. The eerie smile, so out of place in their past interactions, was etched onto his face like a sinister mask.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he pondered, leaning forward, his voice carrying an unsettling calmness. In his hand, she now realized, was a glinting knife, pointed at her way. "It's just me, Y/n, I'm no stranger to you."

He wasn't a stranger then, but he certainly was now. She stared at him, a creeping realization dawning as she slowly sat up, her fingers brushing against something cold and unyielding, and her heart sank.

"I wouldn't move too much if I were you."

Her eyes moved to the chain holding her, the metal bolted securely into the wall. It was a thick, unforgiving shackle, the links rough against her skin, the very sight of it sent shivers down her spine. Fear took a firm hold of her, like a vice squeezing her chest, making it difficult to breathe. She trembled, her voice shaking as she finally managed to speak, "W-Why are you doing this?"

"You're seriously questioning me when you should be thanking me instead?"

Her voice wavered as she responded, her fear making way for a touch of anger. "Thanking you for what? Murdering people?"

"They weren't innocent,” he spat, his anger flaring as he glared at her. "You should know better than to act as if you didn't want them dead."

"I didn't," she assured him.

"You resented them."

She let out a shaky breath. "...maybe, but I would never wish any of them harm." Then she choked out, "Why are you doing this, Eric?"

His features softened, his gaze locked onto hers as he leaned closer. "You really want to know the reason?" He held her gaze with a disturbing tenderness as he whispered, "Because I love you, Sweetheart."

Her heart pounded as his words hung in the air. "No, you don't," she quickly responded, her voice laced with a mixture of fear and disbelief. "If you did, you wouldn't have—"

"I said," he pressed on, the knife still pointing toward her, his eyes locked onto hers with an eerie intensity. "Because I love you."

She knew it was best not to provoke someone holding a knife. Instead, she carefully asked, her voice trembling, "Since when?"

"Ever since you started working with us," he replied with a smile that felt more disconcerting than affectionate. "You've always been very special to me."

"Why... why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, I was scared of rejection, I guess. You never took any interest in me, and surprisingly I was fine with that, so the only way I could care for you was to be your friend." He grinned, his smile devoid of any warmth. "And kill people who hurt you, of course."

Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over and streaming down her face. Her trembling lips caught them, the taste of her own despair lingering on her tongue, a bitter flavor that seemed to confine the darkness of the moment.

"Oh, stop crying. They were never good enough for you," he chided. He got up and started to pace in front of her, his words steeped in a delusional justification for his actions. "Your scumbag of an ex? He should've seen it coming. That pervert of a lawyer? Should've cut him into pieces. And Jamison? Well, I honestly think I was doing a favor for everyone who hated him."

He gazed at her with a mixture of pity and disdain as she continued to cry, his expression an eerie blend of false sympathy. "Don't worry, I didn't kill them all..." He let out a sigh. "I took pity on Oliver."

"W-What did you do to him?" She cried, her voice breaking with a mix of fear and desperation.

"Gave him a few stabs, but nothing too serious," he replied casually, waving the knife through the air as if discussing a minor inconvenience. "He'll be fine."

Her heart sank at his callous response. "I thought you grew up together."

"I lied about not being close with him the other day, you know? We were best friends, actually. But that's another story to tell," he admitted, his words revealing a chilling aspect of his twisted psyche. He then glared at her, a mix of frustration and hostility in his eyes. "You seriously need to stop looking at me like that. I spared him, it was only a few stabs."

Anger surged within her, ignited by his disturbingly casual demeanor, and she found herself unable to suppress her mounting fury any longer. "You're fucking sick," she spat.

He took a step forward, his eyes narrowing as he loomed closer. "You shouldn't talk to me like that," he emphasized, pointing the knife at her once more. "You're chained to the wall, I could do anything to you."

She took a deep breath, trying to calm the erratic beat of her heart, though the horror still gripped her like a vice. Her face was etched with a stark, unmistakable expression of fear and disbelief. He rolled his eyes.

"Don't act so scared now, I won't do anything—well, not now, at least," he stated with a laugh, taking a step back, as if he were granting her some temporary respite. "For now... I have yet to finish my vengeance for you."

"V- Vengeance? You think of them as vengeance?" She asked in disbelief. "Oliver didn't even hurt me."

"He kept pestering you when you clearly weren't interested in him, he needed a little lesson," he explained, a chilling justification in his tone. Then he narrowed his eyes at her. "But there is one person who has hurt you recently, and I think we both know who that is."

His words hung in the air like a dark cloud, filling her with a growing sense of dread. Her eyes widened, her voice heavy with desperation. "No! Eric, no, please, don't hurt him—"

"He's not good for you, Y/n. He never will be."

"Eric! Please!" She was beginning to wail, her pleas filled with anguish and despair, as she felt the walls of her world closing in on her. The chains rattled ominously when she moved. "Please..."

"I need to punish him, Sweetheart, he hurt you," he said with a chilling detachment. He gave her a pitiful look. "Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows."

"Please—Please don't, Eric," She pleaded desperately, her voice shaking with an overwhelming fear. "No..." She shook her head and sobbed, "Don't h-hurt him... please..."

Her pleas fell on deaf ears, and the disturbing determination in his gaze made it clear that he had made up his mind. He turned around, leaving her in a state of helpless dread. "I'll see you later," he added with a sinister remark. "Don't cry too much while I visit your FBI boyfriend."

As he walked away, the barn's shadows seemed to close in around her. She did exactly the opposite—she relentlessly cried herself to sleep, seeking solace in the safety of her dreams, however fleeting, as she yearned for an end to this nightmare that had somehow become her reality.

>> NEXT PART

a/n: y'all can stop cursing poor Oliver now😭

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