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nicromancytarot · 2 months

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ALL ABOUT YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE 18+ themes, lots of information!!

This is a general reading based on a collective of people. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. If you don’t feel the pile resonates with you, don’t be scared to try another, if it still doesn’t feel right, that’s ok! Maybe our energies aren’t as connected and my readings are not for you.

I do these strictly for fun and educational purposes. I don’t change for these readings and I do not fake readings. I would tell you the cards I got but I pull like 15-20 cards each reading and that just slightly a strenuous task to write them all down lmao.

(This took me 3 days lmao, please like, follow and reblog)

PICK A CARD READING

I asked my spirit guides what you need to know about your future spouse, pick a pile to find out!!

Pile 1 ———> Pile 2 ———> Pile 3

PILE 1 (TW sexual abuse)

“I need to take time for myself” “let’s take this to the next level” “i don’t want anyone else”

Their appearance

I’m seeing lighter hair, light brown to a blonde-white, I’m seeing they may have muscles, or just a nicely toned body. It also looks like their back may be very prominent to their appearance, they may work out extra to achieve really nice back muscles. They could honestly have a large top half and skinny bottom half (Miguel O’Hara for example.) I’m seeing someone quite tall, they may have an interesting shaped head, like not in a bad way, it might just appear more prominently on them. For a guy, long third leg.. (They allowed me to say this one.) Possible big ears, or maybe even wears earrings or something to highlight them. The right side of their face is the best for them lmao, they might pose showing their right side for pictures.

About them

They‘ve have been through some hardships in their life, they’ve been fucked over pretty bad in the past, and while they don’t like to dwell on it, I wanted to bring it up. It’s seeming like they may have gone through sexual assault, I’m seeing that they used to appear quite sexualised in the past, something they did themself, however, someone close to them felt valid enough to abuse their power and cause harm to your partner through their self-expression. This hurt your partner a lot, they’re still healing, I’m heading “please take your time with me” when it comes to sex, they have some extreme vulnerability about it, they need you to understand that; they’re begging me not to sexualise them, and they’re asking you nicely to do the same, give them the respect that someone thought was ok to steal from them.

Due to this mass betrayal, they appear very closed off to new love, they have a lot of people that want them, and fawn over them, but this situation has completely made them turn a blind eye to those who see them. It will take you a while to crack this person open, however once you do, it will be more than worth it.

They will be very slow to start this connection with you, but once they are sure that you can be trusted, and they feel safe around you, they will set up camp by your side, and they don’t plan on leaving.

Their career

They’re very financially successful, but I see that this took them a while, I think they began building up financial abundance due to wanting their family to be there for them, and take notice in their achievements.

In work I think they may be underestimated, appearing as the lioness, I can only be reminded of the over glamorisation of lions, and the societal irrelevancy of lionesses, even though they do more for the lion population than the lion, as a collective do for themselves. Unfortunately this being said, I see they are idolised for their body, rather than their talents (I’m getting Sidney Sweeney, and Vinnie Hacker for this, both talented people, who are only seen as pieces of meat, or some type of chew toy.) Your person is really disrespected and it’s making me so mad, man. They’re trying their hardest to break out of the stereotype, however I feel as though there are colleges of theirs that constantly sexualise them, making them feel very uncomfortable. Again, I’m getting the same message as before, they are yearning for someone to treat them like a human being, and not just a vessel of sex organs.

Their family

Mentioned prior, they do not have the best relationship with their family, I think there’s some deep-rooted and ínstense trauma from possible childhood, I see they were the type of child to get all perfect grades to try and impress, and make their parents proud, however I don’t think it worked. Their parents seem very self focused and absorbed in their own life, and business.

They assumed that becoming even more successful, making a name for themself, earning masses of money would make their family proud, but it never worked.

They may have cut their family out of their life, or they are considering it. If they don’t decide to cut their family off, it most likely comes from hope and fear, they are scared that their family won’t notice all their biggest achievements if they cut them out, and they hope that eventually they will be able to achieve something big enough so their family is proud of them. They blame themself a lot for “not being enough” and not making them proud.

How they are in bed

I was not able to get much for this, but I do see that they need to really be able to trust you fully before getting into bed with you, they need a lot of time and reassurance, they really need you to understand their fears. The first time you guys have sex, you may unintentionally bring up some hidden wounds, they’re telling me to tell you not to worry, they’ll look into your eyes and it’ll be gone. They may need eye contact the first time, they need that constant reminder that it’s you, and that you won’t hurt them.

They gave me a few explicit messages, so for that I got

“Cum on your face”

“Make a sex tape” (I feel like they would burn this onto a hard drive and keep it in a place only they know about, only showing you if you asked them to.)

“Food play”

When I got these messages, I had a fan on so I needed to put the papers under something so they didn’t fly away, I unknowingly put them under the chariot card, so I’m really getting again that you will need to work for this. The chariot was also the only sexual illustration I got.

Another thing is that they don’t want you telling your friends about your guys sex lives, they don’t want more people to sexualise them.

They also may finish very fast the first time, this could be out of sensation since I don’t think they would’ve had sex for a very long time by the time you guys meet and start dating.

Their love language

Acts of service, they enjoy doing things for the people that they care about, unfortunately it seems this has stemmed from their neglecting childhood, they feel as though they must do something for someone to feel loved. They do not quite understand that love is not a give to receive, you may have to be the one to teach them this. Your future spouse only believe people will love them if they do something for that person in return.

Quality time, they like to be with the people they care about, i’m seeing two people sat in silence on some arm chairs, one person is resting their head on their arm while scrolling aimlessly on their phone, meanwhile the other is reading a book, holding it with one hand as the other plays with the hand belonging to their counterpart, their fingers tracing the skin of their lover’s hand gently, fingers only just intertwining.

Their shadows

Your future spouse does not see their own self worth, they do not value themself as a person, or even a creator, whatever they do in life, they are a very creative and diverse person, yet they don’t feel that way. It’s as if they suffer from imposter syndrome, they never feel worthy of their achievements, because no one ever made them feel as though their success mattered.

They can be very closed off with their feelings, they become resentful towards their emotions and just wish they could rip the feelings from their body. They may say things they don’t mean in the moment, mostly because they don’t feel worthy of your love, but as soon as they realise what they have done, they will bring you to their chest and hug you tightly.

This reaction will never escalate further than a shout of anger.

I sense they might refuse therapy, you may have a lot of arguments about this, they try to tell themself that they do not need therapy, but this is mainly because they fear they will be laughed at, for coming to this person with trauma that even they struggle to understand, even after having gone through it. I would encourage you to try your best to get them to go to therapy, maybe even both of you together so you can get to know each other on a more intimate level.

Please be gentle with them my pile 1, they are truly a blessing of a soul.

PILE 2

“I’m not ready” “you’re too good for me” “let’s take this to the next level” (you may have been attracted to pile 1, if so maybe go check it out.)

Their appearance

Lighter hair, for a select few of you, it’s black. I think they might have longer hair, and like to wear it up, or they enjoy covering their head with a hat or other accessories. I’m getting medium height, maybe even shorter than you, or possibly only a little taller than you. I think they enjoy dressing more provocative, perhaps having shirt buttons undone, or just not wearing a shirt at all, they really like their body, and they know they have a good one. If they have abs, I would say they are there but quite faint, not toned, just enough to show. Their hair could be curly, or it’s just the first thing you notice when you meet them. I’m getting pirate vibes, they might dress up more like a pirate honestly, buttoned down blouses, a bandana on their head, their hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. The area of their nose, lips, philtrum, and chin is very prominent, a main focal point on their face. Their eyes make them look tired and drunk, the classic sleepy eyes. They may wear a lot of jewellery, specifically gold. Their skin seems more into the tanner tones for the dark haired individuals, they may be part of the latino/a community. For the people with lighter hair, I see they could be based around Europe.

About them

I hate fuelling delusions like this, but multiple cards are pointing to this person being an ex, it seems like they had your heart at one point and came back for more, after having messed up the first time. They do seem very remorseful for their previous mistakes, they want you to know that they were naive and selfish, they didn’t know how to treasure something as important, and valuable as your love, however they want you to know that they are ready now. I see they could have cheated on you in the past, left you for another person, or just been toxic with you, and just treated you badly. Please take in mind that I do not want you to get back with any super shitty ex, you have free will so don’t do that, however I do think this person has changed for the better. With the chariot, and hanged man, I’m seeing they worked on themself to be able to be good for you, it may have taken them a few years.

For those of you who’s future spouse is not an ex, I would say that the first time you guys met, there was a sense of competition and it turned you completely off from them, or they just came across rude, and arrogant while trying to impress you, and you just weren’t feeling it. They’re coming back around to show you how serious they actually are about making this relationship with you work. They will need some time, one sided enemies to lovers lmao.

Their career

I feel as though they have a good amount of material wealth, they seem to have everything they could desire, they could be a little bit of a workaholic, which possibly can cause some drama between you, you will need to remind them of how important spending time together is, they will listen, they are always willing to compromise with you.

Their job is one filled with a lot of competition, I’m honestly getting technology, they could work with technology, they could be under a tech company position, or maybe they even work from home doing their own thing on their computer.

They can appear secretive when it comes to their job, they’re not trying to keep it a secret, or hidden from you, they simply just don’t really think to talk about it that much. Lowkey, they could be a moderator for some type of famous streamer, (lmao??) or they could work in a position where they help people with managing publicity, like an agent or something.

This job does seem interesting, but it does come across a little like they do it more so for the money, than for an actual enjoyment that they find. Some of them do enjoy their job, but I don’t think they would stick with it, if it didn’t offer them the money and exposure that it does.

Their family

I honestly feel like it was their family’s influence that got them to start working on themself, I get the sense that their mother was possibly the one to force them into therapy, she may have even sat through his first session lol.

I think he’s mainly closest to the woman in his family, I’m getting a close friendship with their 1-2 sisters, possibly older, rather than younger. Im getting that they see them a little puppy that needs training, if you guys get into an argument, and they go to their sisters, the oldest one would be quick to correct your future spouse on their mistakes, and convince them to talk to you again and apologise for whatever they did.

Their family love you, if it’s a second chance scenario, they are so happy that you guys get another chance at loving each other, they truly want you to stay part of their family.

I’m seeing a young girl, possibly around the age of 5-6, you will be very close to her, I’m feeling it’s a niece or cousin, who is constantly around when you visit the rest of the family.

How they are in bed

They honestly appear quite vanilla, all bark no bite to be honest, they will say the flirtiest things to you, and they appear quite sexual, but once you get into the bedroom, they become all shy and reserved, there is a potential for you to bring them out of their shell however.

I’m seeing that sex for them is more-so about their own pleasure, they can seem a bit selfish during sex because of this, they may also see it as a way to compete with others, I’m hearing “I have them in a way that no one else ever will,” they may deal with a little bit of jealousy when it comes to your relationship, they are you as a very desired person, so they worry that someone will steal you away from them, being intimate with you is like proof to them that you are there’s and no one else could have you in such a compromising position.

They may finish really fast, I’m seeing someone who is struggling to keep their attraction in, the way your eyes penetrate into theirs will have them a stuttering mess, unexpectedly pushing them to their climax, though I feel like you will be nowhere near your own. You may need to help them with how to pleasure you, so you also reach your destination!

They could be a virgin, they don’t seem very experienced, they may have even waited for marriage, so this could be the night of your wedding.

They’re on top, it makes them feel more masculine and in charge of the situation, I also think they need to be able to pick their own pace to make sure they don’t overwhelm themself the first time.

They will be bursting with anticipation every time you initiate something with them.

They may have a desire to watch you touch yourself, they know about the important places of pleasure for people of your gender, however they don’t know exactly how to treat those places, so they may ask you to touch yourself to show them, this could lead to an intense session of mutual masterbation, for the select few of you, this will come before your wedding, they’ll ask you about how they should pleasure you on your wedding night, and you will show them, they will get into the mood as well and join you in the bed, this will almost make them cave in and take you there and then.

“Pull my hair”

“You make me so hard/wet”

“Let me taste”

Their open to whatever you’re into, just give them time to adjust to the new sensations of sex first, before you spring any random kinks onto them.

Their love language

Physical touch, they enjoy being around you and putting their hands on you at any chance they get, they like to hold your hand, to wrap their arms around your waist, they just like how you feel under their touch, if they feel like they’re working too much, they will invite you to sit with them, possibly on their lap so they can have you with them.

They like their bare skin to touch yours, I don’t think they sleep with much on, maybe shirtless with a pair of underwear, they will press their front of your back, making sure their bare chest hits your bare back, and back of shoulders.

Gift giving, they like to buy you things, I think it’s in a way of trying to make up for how they treated you in the past, they use their money to prove to you how serious they are about you and their relationship with you, they’re very possessive of their material wealth, so sharing it with you is something massive, and unexpected. If you see something in the store window, they’ll notice you even as much as glanced at it, and they will make sure it belongs to you in no time.

Their shadows

Their can appear a little selfish at times, I think they’ve had to protect and defend themself all their life, so now they feel as though shutting people out and not letting them in is the best answer to cure and keep away any upcoming insecurities.

Your future spouse needs to lose things to understand how much they actually mean to them, they don’t appreciate things enough until it’s taking away from them, luckily for them, they tend to work hard enough to manage to get this back, ensuring that it will never be taken away again.

Their downplay their transformations, they don’t exaggerate, but honestly the complete opposite, they feel as though their past and their future and two completely different identities, they need constant reminders that their success is still their success, no matter how long ago it was.

PILE 3

“I don’t want anyone else” “do you feel the same?” “you’re the only one I want in my life” (again, you could’ve also been attracted to pile 1, I wouldn’t recommend going back up however, I think it may have been the warning that caught your eye rather than the pile itself!)

Their appearance

I’m getting chestnut brown, to black hair, for a woman, it’s casts down her back, quite long. For a man, It’s around medium length, maybe just above their shoulders. Their back is very prominent in this pile, I feel like they have nicely defined back muscles, however I do not think they are an incredibly muscular person. They could honestly dress more punk/emo, wearing black leather jackets which are decorated, and bedazzled with silver spikes, I do see a possibility for a more alternative style for men, feminine outifts for women, types of styles that accentuates their hips and bust.

They might like going outside a lot, they’d be the type to suggest a camping trip, so they wear clothes that are suitable, and durable for being outside for extended periods of time. Big black boots is another thing I’m getting, their hair could also be spiked up for a select few of you. (I’m honestly picking up Johnnie Gilbert similarities for this pile, maybe Johnnie’s future wife is watching, and they just don’t know, that’s crazy.)

About them

They know better than to overwork themself, they may be the type that needs to mentally recharge after being around people for too long, they also seem to take in a lot of energy when around people, they’re like a little portable charger, however this does mean that they get burnt out very quickly. Luckily, they are not one to ignore the signals of their body and mind, so if they need to rest and be alone for a little, they will do that, this can however make them appear a tad aloof.

I don’t think they’re the best at expressing their emotions, they keep them hidden for a reason, I believe out of fear of judgment, or getting hurt again. I’m seeing someone who may have been cheated on by an ex partner, I don’t imagine they got closure on whatever this situation was, if it wasn’t cheating, it was some type of intense betrayal. They may appear a bit condescending at times, this is their way of trying to push you away before you find out about their feelings, they weirdly think you will leave them or condemn them for showing any natural, human emotion.

Their hardworking in all areas of their life, mainly self improvement, they want to become the best version of themself, so their partner can be comfortable with them. I do see that they will have a dramatic change of circumstance, or just who they are as a person, around the time that they meet you, which would be done for you, or for some of you, they will improve themself right before you guys meet, this change in their life will bring you to them.

Their career

They have a job where their workload and work time is flexible, they have the ability to not work one day, and pick up the work the next day if they so please. This is good because it means they will be making sure they always have time for you, to make you feel appreciated.

Their job is focused around nurturing responsibility, they are a leader of their area, but not a leader overall, they may have some type of job where they have to be a role model for people of a younger age, mild fame or influencing is showing strongly (bro which one of you are Johnnie’s wife, this is getting too specific.)

The job brings in a lot of material abundance, I don’t see they have to worry about too much, other than understanding that their work can be overwhelming, and that they need to pace themself, allowing themself to take breaks is super important with this pile.

It’s a job that offers them long term stability, and more money with the higher their position gets, if this person is mildly famous, or some type of influencer, the more fame and fans they gain, the more money they will be raking in, however they do need to remember where their loyalties lie, and always make sure to appreciate the fandom that gave them what they have now.

Their family

Their family are so different from them lmao, like polar opposites, I’m seeing the sweetest mother who always makes baked goods, sometimes they can appear a little interesting, but taste good nonetheless. Their father calls them by a nickname which your future spouse hates, their father is really sweet, I’m getting someone a little more laidback, who would rub your partners hair to mess it up for absolutely no reason.

You will feel very welcome into this family, they do not discriminate since their son/daughter/child has gone through some intense stuff in their life, and they are just thankful that you are able to bring them security, and safety, your person could’ve struggled badly with mental health, and it may have worried their family, so their parents are super happy that you’re able to keep them happy. However, please remember that someone’s mental health is not your responsibility solely.

How they are in bed

I don’t think they would’ve had sex for a while before you guys got together, I think they may have done some type of sexual cleanse, they were possibly a fuck boy/girl in the past, so they quit it to help themself improve and be the best version of themself.

They may need a little while to really get ready to be intimate with you, it might come as a conversation that the two of you share, explaining that you would like to have sex with them, and them setting a date for it so nothing can go wrong. I see them prepping by shaving their entire body lmao, they’re going all out, if it’s a man, they’re going to get so many cuts in all the wrong places, and they will definitely complain about it to you. They do expect you to be as prepared as they are, so get yourself ready, find yourself a nice, new perfume and get to it.

I do not think they will have sex with you outside of the relationship, I feel as though they have so many sexual requests from people, it makes them feel only valuable for their body, they don’t want to be seen as just a warm body that you get to lay under, the first time you are intimate with them. You have to prove yourself before sex, and even then, it may take a while. I’m getting around eight to ten months after dating, they really don’t want to be fooled and used for their body, especially after their sexual cleanse.

They like to be on top, they may honestly end up sweating and shivering at the end of it, like that one scene from Titanic when Jack is shaking in the carriage while laying on top of Rose with a blanket.

The sex will get progressively more rough and interesting over time, but the first time is just pure love making.

“Look into my eyes”

“Fuck you silly”

“Tie you up”

I’m getting that they will need aftercare more than you will, while both of you will be giving it to each other, they are a lot more in need of it, I feel like you would be fine to just go into the kitchen and make yourself something to eat, meanwhile they desire to be in your arms for the next couple of hours.

Their love language

Physical touch, they need to be at least holding your hand at all times, they would lowkey like to wear a lipstick stain you created on their cheek or jaw, they like people to know that you are theirs, and they are yours. They may also really like when you give them hickeys, they will absolutely allow those to be on show for everyone to see, they are too proud to hide them. They like to hold your stomach? Perhaps it’s when you sleep, they like to rest their hand on your stomach, or perhaps they want to get you pregnant, they may be very serious about having kids sometime in the future.

Words of affirmation, they really appreciate when you tell them how good they look, or how the outfit they’re wearing is amazing on their body. They specifically enjoy your compliments, you have a way with explaining things, that makes it seem so much more authentic and honest, they trust your judgment a lot. I do see they have a tendency to feel very insecure, and although so many people tell them how beautiful they are, your future spouse struggles to believe them, thinking it’s some kind of sick joke, but they know you would never joke or make fun of them about that. You’ll be very surprised to find out about their insecurities, you may even think they’re playing with you the first time they mention it, this could make them feel invalidated, so be careful how you tackle this!

Their shadows

They constantly ignore their problems, they have an “out of sight, out of mind” way of thinking, which is just barbaric because it means they don’t sort through their issues and instead push them out of the way. You may need to help them with healing from some past trauma, and realising that they are allowed to feel hurt and anger from those past situations, as they were not at all ideal.

Your future spouse is quick to push people away when they feel as though they’ve said too much, and opened up more than they desired to, due to this, there may be a few times when you feel helpless, and they seem helpless, this is something you can work through together.

They get very defensive, very quickly, if you say something that unintentionally triggers them, they will shut off, going into some type of hermit mode until they feel ready to talk about whatever it is that bothered them.

#pick a card #tarot #tarot reading #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #free tarot #tarot witch #daily tarot #pick a pile #tarot cards

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help-itrappedmyself · 2 months

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Dead on Main AU 2

Masterpost

Jason blinks and he is not where he used to be. He can already tell he’s shorter and skinnier, and he’s staring at physics homework so he’s probably younger too. It takes him a moment to run all the scenarios. He knows what is most likely, he knows that soulmates body swap at sixteen and... Well, he’s not sure if he was dead or not for his sixteenth birthday, but he had been living on the assumption that he had missed it, whenever it was.

Now he thinks that he’s the older one in this relationship. If his soulmate just turned sixteen, he’s still a minor. Society gets a little more lax about these things when it comes to actual soulmate relationships, but Jason- despite the age difference only being around two years- is not lax about it at all. So if this is what he thinks it is, he is going to have to have a talk with his soulmate about being just friends for a while.

Which should be fine, it’s not like they know each other at all yet. Getting to know each other should take a while anyways. Though, he could start that now.

He looked to the right and saw the door to the bedroom on the same wall as the desk he was sitting at, and the door to the closet on the next wall. The bed is against the wall behind the desk, sitting in between two windows. There’s a nightstand with a lamp on it next to the bed and a chest of drawers against the wall to his left that has a mirror hanging over it. There are space posters on the walls all around the room.

Jason gets up and walks over to the mirror. The boy in the mirror is short and skinny, just like he thought. He has blue eyes and black hair that flops over his face. Jason takes a second to wonder if the kid had plans for his birthday, realizing probably not. It’s tradition nowadays to spend your sixteenth birthday with just your family in case the switch is made.

So, Jason's soulmate is what appears to be a normal, messy teenager. Posters, clothes on the floor, homework to do. Jason goes over to double check the homework, to see if he can find any that’s finished. There, his math assignment is already done, and it seems his soulmate’s name is Danny Fenton. He takes a closer look at all the school supplies and in his backpack and doesn’t find anything with the school name on it.

Taking another look around the room, Jason doesn’t see a phone, and it wasn’t in the backpack. Jason tries not to feel weird as he pats around his soulmate’s pockets. He finds a phone, thinks for a second, then types in his own number and calls.

It rings for a second. Someone picks up, but all Jason can hear is shouting until he hears his own voice.

“Um, hello, Jason?”

“Yeah, this is Jason. You with my family?”

“If the people that were in the room with you before are your family. I really only have confirmation that one of them is your dad.”

“Have those motherfuckers not even introduced themselves?”

“Sort of. Eventually.” Jason heaves a long sigh. Danny chuckles.

“Right, well your name is Danny right?”

“Yeah! Have you talked to my family yet?”

“No, haven’t left your room. Your name was on your homework though.”

“Oh, please do not judge the homework.” Jason laughs, he does not know how Danny made his voice sound like that, breathy and higher than his voice has been in years.

“Didn’t even look at that part. So, I’m assuming that you guys are coming to me?”

“I think so?” There’s a bit of a commotion. “Stop it, buzz off!”Is said away from the phone. “They said yes.”

“Please tell me they’re not all planning on coming.”

Danny makes an I don’t know sort of hum. “Look, I do need to warn you… about a few things actually. Jazz, my sister, her room is across the hall and she’ll be able to help you if you. I sort of have… like a medical condition. I would rather explain that to you in person, but she’ll watch out for you if you go meet her.”

“I can do that. Anything I should look out for?”

“My parents leave all kinds of weapons around the house, and sometimes they’ll target me-you- at random, so try not to touch anything, and either stay upstairs or have my sister take you somewhere in town. Whatever you do, don’t go in the basement, the lab is down there.”

“Kid, what?” Jason rubs his hand down his face.

“This is really an in-person talk.”

Jason feels like he can relate. There are a lot of things a soulmate should know that Jason doesn’t know if he’s ever going to tell Danny but if he did he would want it to be in-person. “Sure, okay. Find Jazz, preferably leave the house.”

“Yep!” Again, Jason does not understand how Danny makes his voice sound so peppy. “Is there anything I should know?”

“Shit, if I had time I would give you a warning about everyone in my family individually, but for now… I don’t know if this will translate over…” It will, but there’s really no way to explain that. “I have… I guess it’s sort of a health condition as well. My family knows what triggers it, and they should be on their best behavior right now anyways, but if you wouldn’t mind putting someone on the phone I can threaten them properly.”

Danny laughs and Jason hears a beep, before “You’re on speaker!” is called out.

“I swear to god if any of you scare him, hurt him, or anything I’m going to kill you. I know everything you love and if you don’t act normal, just know, it will be destroyed.”

“Yeah, yeah. Jay, this is your soulmate!” Dick sounds way too excited.

“Also, most of us love you so that threat doesn’t work as well as you think it does.” Steph yells.

“Bitch, I died once, I’ll do it again. Don’t test me on this right now.”

The room through the phone quiets down quickly except for Danny’s laughter.

“Oh, wow, same.”

“Danny! You know how we feel about the death jokes.” Jason hears as the door behind him opens. Talking starts up on the other end of the line, but he ignores it for the moment as a tall redhead walks in the room. She stops in front of him and raises her eyebrow.

“You must be Jazz.” Jason says. This gets a hush on the other end of the line. “I’m Jason.”

#batman #dcxdp #dpxdc #dcxdp crossover #danny phantom #dead on main #jason todd #red hood #fanfiction #my writing #soulmate au

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tocomplainfriend · 4 months

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I am mad

Yup!

Bro shut up, she is white - being Latina is not a race, is an not the same as color skin. And she is a second generation immigrant too. So like... this isn't like a Salvadorian person doing a cartoon, is a daughter of Salvadorians... That grew in the USA. Being Latino doesn't mean you aren't white, you can be any race and Latino. Still wouldn't make up for the lack of representation or the existing racism. In the piece of media that's "diverse".

Salvadorian is not a race, LMAO. That's crazy- you think someone from Argentina who is white, is not white cause of their nationality??? Being Latino and having that culture does not equal a race. It's in itself a racist thing. This Latino = Race is terrible, It also comes from the idea of the "You are not Latino because you are not brown", assuming all people from Latino America are brown by default. You know how much has that happen to me? -AND MANY OTHER PEOPLE.

(I'm Latino btw)

I already have an older post about it, but - you can really see the lack of diversity in the show a lot. (Will talk about it even more other day).

Again the main thing you get is MEN, hypersexual skinny queer men (cis). You won't get to see female characters being well written, thought all the season 1 and all the episodes we got rn of season 2. All characters are skinny and similar body types and repetitive design choices. Funny enough, shows that lack of human characters still have better race-coding that helluva. (and well in hazbin you'll get POC characters that are gray, lack all ethic features... even when they are humanoid. So that is great.)

Bro you could, you imagine a character being black and having different textured hair, and you go to hell... AND EVEN THO YOU ARE HUMANOID- your hair became straight and spiky, and you are now a light gray? If you build a world like that... it just seems like the perfect racist excuse to delete ethic features out a POC character because you don't want to draw them. "Not going to a single hint of their race/culture unless it revolves on their death"... If the character became a fucking coin with dot eyes, maybe (not really, shows with no human/humanoid characters still are capable to race-code their characters). But all of these characters are humanoid- why do none of them have their different characteristics? Also, this is about a real person in the real world choosing how to design a character.

This tweet also implies that a black character when they were a life they had ethic features, but lose them when they go to hell. Which is even more fucking stupid.

If a white person with straight hair goes to hell, and their hair remains straight (assuming it has nothing to do with their death), why wouldn't there be black people with textured hair? This is dumb. This goes back to the fucking thing of "No black people in fantasy media", In the same way, it's stupid for fantasy stories to revolve around white people characteristics in fictional species and people in that world- not including all the rest of diverse human characteristics POC people have it's crazy. The biggest problem here is why the fuck all Viv's sinners characters (main characters designed by her) that are supposed to black (or mixed like Alastor) have 0 characteristic. THEY ARE HUMANOID, THEY AREN'T EVEN ABSTRACT OR AN ANIMAL OR ANYTHING LIKE THAT. She didn't want to draw that nor change designs, and wanted to justify the whole concept of Alastor even using Voodou.

HOW ARE ALL THE ANGELS THAT VIV WANTS TO BE BLACK (black voice actors specified, or are race specified) HAVE NOTHING??? LIKE HELLO THE 'I'm such a nice angel character girl' HAS SPIKY STRAIGHT HAIR??? SHE IS AN ANGEL AND BLACK, WHY DIDN'T YOU DID HER HAIR TO BE CLOUDS- It's THE EASIEST SHIT YOU COULD’VE DONE.

BOOM! A FUCKING TROLL FROM A KIDS MOVIE WITH DIFFERENT HAIR. BOOM! THE FUNK TROLLS ARE SO EXPLICITLY BLACK CODED.

---

Bro, you know this whole thing of people with textured hair have to forcefully straighten their hair or wear wogs to a job... because people consider it ""Unprofessional"" cause racism? The erasure and discrimination of POC people and their features is a problem. That's why it is important to people represent all of those things:

(Marvel's Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur)

The only reason of why Alas tor is even mixed is purely cause Viv used the Voodou symbols because she thought they were creepy and edgy. It's sucks that all the angels and sinners that are supposed to be black have nothing.

#vivziepop critique #vivziepop critical #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critique #helluva boss critical #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critique #anti vivziepop #antiblackness

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netherfeildren · 6 months

Text

Pink : Part III : Two

Series Masterlist : Part I : Part II

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Content Warnings: Heavy angst; DD/lg dynamics; Dom/sub undertones; Daddy Kink; Jealousy; Unprotected Sex; Creampie; Inappropriate shaving; Squirting; Belly bulge; Dirty talk; Orgasm delay/denial; Overstimulation; Face slapping; Spanking; Light degradation; Rough sex; Breeding kink; Divorce; Not safe to read if triggered by pregnancy; Use of misogynistic language; Discussions of mental and emotional abuse; Cliffhanger

A/N: All tags have been updated.

Word Count: 12.7K

Rating: Explicit 18+

Read on AO3

Ko-fi

3. Two

“You know that feeling of… of realizing you’re a good person? It’s like– yes, I know objectively that I probably am. That I try to be kind, I try to do things that are good and right, but you know those strangely self perceptive moments where another person makes you – forces you – to realize you’re good? And it brings your whole life, your whole self into clarity, and it’s like – I am good, and I deserve good things. I am good.

But he treated me so badly, for so long. He took away pieces of me, he took away that awareness of goodness. And how could I not believe him, when he constantly told me and showed me that I deserved so little, when it was what I accepted for myself? Constantly waiting for him to turn into a man he never was, never had been and never would be. I accepted those things for myself, I let them happen. Maybe I was weak or stupid or naive or all of them combined. Maybe I was just a girl. But I thought it was hope at the time. I thought I was being hopeful and good, and now I realize that was no true form of goodness. It was only the version of good he needed me to be, a subservient and silent type of goodness.”

“And you know, I had a neighbor who– her husband died last year at Christmas, and it was so sad. They were older, always together, it was… it has nothing to do with this, but I don’t know. It was like when a tragedy is soft and quiet, and it just folds into the rest of life unheeded. Such a strange thing for someone on the outside looking in. I lived next door to them, and I’d see them all the time living their lives together, and I barely knew them, but suddenly he was gone, and I was conscious of the fact that she was over there alone all the time now. Without him. When before he’d always been there. I don’t know what I'm trying to say. It’s just that it didn't happen to me, it affected me in no way, and yet, I felt her loss keenly. Afterwards, I helped her with her cat, an old skinny thing, Jazz. She started going out of town a lot after her husband died, getting out and away, you know, that sort of thing. And I’d cat sit for her, and he was so sweet. But he was old too, and a few months later, he died also. And I remember the week he was going to pass she’d texted me and said he’d go soon, and I told her I was praying for him, thinking of the both of them. I don’t even pray, but I needed to tell her I was with her in some way. And it was nothing, a few nights going over there to feed the old boy, a few text messages. It was the absolute bare minimum I could do, but a few weeks after the cat died, she wrote me the loveliest note. She told me that she appreciated me, that she thought of how kind I’d been during those days, when I’d told her I was thinking of them. She told me that I was a good person, and that she hoped my kindness was returned to me many times over.

And I’d forgotten, you see, I'd forgotten that I was good. That I had a capacity for goodness within me, and that I deserved to be reminded of it, like all soft creatures are. We all need reassurance and a kind word sometimes, and I’d forgotten that about myself.” You glance up at his eyes, the most tender look held in them. “Do you know what I mean, Joel?” You ask, voice very small, shy and afraid, for one moment, that he won’t understand you.

But he pets your hair, cradles your cheek, “Yeah, honey. I think I do know.”

It’s a terrifying ordeal, the way the two of you fold into each other in the weeks after that first night. And yet, unstoppable. You do try, and you’re sure he does, as well. The first few days, trying to stay away, not answering his calls, no texts because he says his fingers are too big, and he can’t work those tiny fuckin’ buttons, forcing yourself not to run back over there into his arms and his bed. But then he’s calling and calling and calling, begging, making it his turn to show up at your doorstep in the middle of the night, saying all the right things like, I haven’t been sleeping, and I need to see you, and I’m suffering, I’m suffering without you, touching you in all the right ways that should be wrong but aren’t. All baby, I hurt when I’m not inside this sweet pussy. He says you make him weak, and you tell him that the only weak thing here is you, and you don’t make it much of a struggle for him when you let him in your home, in your cunt, when all you can say is I miss you, I miss you, your cock, your hands, I can’t stop thinking about you. The two of you are one and the same in all the ways it counts. And he’s not your father-in-law anymore, a chameleon now in the form of the only man who’s ever understood you, wanted you, seen you as more, as a complexity.

He makes you wonder how you could have ever thought of yourself as anything like sexless when all he makes you is hungry and desperate and wet. Fucking everywhere you can, as often as you can, never being very careful, pulling out and counting your cycle and starting out with a condom but ripping it off halfway through because I just have to feel you – irresponsible bullshit. Not having your head screwed on tightly enough to even really care. He has you on his living room floor one afternoon, whole day gone away on his cock, and the two of you lay there for hours afterwards, bare limbs wrapped around each other, soft, wet cock tucked safely inside of you where he says it belongs. “How could you have not been angry?” You ask him because you can’t help yourself. Because you want him to teach you to be wise now that he’s shown you how to be good. “That he was kept from you? That you missed an entire lifetime of being a father? I never once saw you furious or resentful. How did you do it?”

“Don’t know,” he sighs. “Dunno… I– It was, kind of, the worst thing anyone’s ever done to me, truth be told, but I didn’t have a chance to compute, to sit in any sort of anger. He was right there all of a sudden, too full of anger to leave any left over for me, and he needed me so much. He needs me so much.” And you know he’s right, and there should be guilt now, gnawing at you, but there is really only jealousy. “And he– he…” A swallow, like you can read his mind, you know what he’ll say, already nodding. “And he hates me,” he whispers into the quiet of this lovely home he’s made for himself, his words mixing with the butter yellow ray of sunshine the two of you are lying in, slanting in through the big bay window. “He hates me, hates who I am. That it’s me he found when he came lookin’.” You have to cry for him then, maybe even for the both of them, maybe even for all three of you.

“Yes,” you choke, so full of sadness for the tragedy of it all. You can’t comfort him with a denial for you’re not a liar here with him. Protection like that isn’t necessary.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart.” He hugs you so tightly, “There’s no reason to cry.”

“I can’t help it,” And return the words he’d given you once when you’d so badly needed a kindness, “You deserve more.”

He’s quiet for a long time after that, and you know him well enough now that you can hear the gears of his mind working and turning, and that makes you even sadder, perhaps, the greatest tragedy of all, this knowing, and eventually he says: “And yet, he is the son I have.” And at the end of it all, you think you are all only yourselves, and nothing can really be done about that.

And you say you want to be wise like him, that it’s your next lesson, so perhaps you should hold your tongue instead of saying: “He only just got you back, and I’m taking you away from him again. Because that’s what I want – I want to take you away and keep you only for myself. I want you to be only mine and that makes me bad. I’m bad.” Your first lesson quashed beneath the fist of your greed for a man who isn’t for you, and who you shouldn’t want, and it’s wrong and maybe even sinful or disgusting or any and all the things that are always bad. None of that matters. He’s turned you into a real person now, none of the rest of it matters.

But he understands, because of course he does, because he always has. He grips your jaw in his hands, large, strong hands, hands made for taking care of things, and tells you, not so wise seeming anymore: “Sometimes I look at myself, and it’s like I'm two feet tall. Why didn’t I meet you sooner? First? How could I have been such a coward to not go out there and search for you? I should have known you were out there, I should have sensed it. How can a man be jealous of his own son?” He turns you over then, cock hard and thrusting again, kisses you full on the mouth, and it tastes like ownership, and says, “You could never be bad. No matter what you did. You’re only ever good. Haven’t I taught you that?”

“Joel, there’s someone at the door,” peeking into the restroom where he’s just stepped out of the shower, wet and steaming, shaking his head out like a dog, towel covering all the fun bits. He’d just had you too many times already, and still, you want more. You’re made of nothing but greed now; he’s taught you how to be good, but he’s also taught you how to be greedy. You’d been strewn across his couch, eating chips and wearing his clothes and leaking his come and waiting for him to finish in the shower and come out to make dinner. He was doing steaks on the grill and baked potatoes with all the fixings and roasted vegetables, and he’d even gotten a pie and ice cream, but he said he wasn’t telling you what the flavor was, only that it was your favorite, and you can’t think how he’d know you love rhubarb, but if that’s what he’s gotten, you were going to let him do anything to you. Literally anything he wanted. Not that you didn’t already… but still, it’s the sentiment that counts, you think. He’d also said you weren’t allowed to shower, that the rule tonight was that you weren’t allowed to wash him off, and you really didn’t mind that so much. So there you were, after he’d put on Stepmom for you, and you were just thinking that Julia Roberts was surely the most beautiful woman who’d ever been born, when someone had knocked on the door, a rhythmic, friendly: tap, tap, tap, that had your heart dropping down into your stomach, and you scurrying into the master bath to frantically tell him that someone is here while you’re here wearing him all over and inside of you and what are you going to do now? He gives you a calm smile, running the towel over his wet head, giving you an eyeful of the fun bits now, and you try and not peek, you really do, but it’s really just the most exciting part on him, you can’t help yourself. His smile turns knowing, that look in his eye, “S’alright, sweetheart. Don’t fret, I’ll get it.”

“But–” you try and protest, maybe he should just pretend not to be home. What if it’s– you can’t even think of it. But then no, he’d not come here. He hates coming to this house, the proof of everything he wasn’t all in his face like this was humiliating for your ex-husband.

His smile remains, but his eyes go a little stern, “No worryin’, I’ll take care of it.” He tugs on his jeans, the man literally never wears underwear, slut, and tugs on a shirt, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he passes you, hand dragging over your belly, smelling of soap and Joel and want, want, want. You follow him on tip toes down the hall, pausing at the mouth of the living room, chewing on your lip and your fingers, about to spit your heart out with nerves as he pulls the door open.

“Hi, Joel, honey. How’s it goin’?” Pretty, bubbly, overly friendly voice you were definitely not expecting. You take a small step forward, the mouth of the hall slightly to the left of the front door so that you can see her without her seeing you, watch his profile as he talks to her. Edie, he says, and that dishwasher givin’ you trouble again, and laughs at her reply, the sound of their conversation going out of your ears as you watch him, head falling sideways on your neck a little bit, the way he laughs at whatever the woman that’s come knocking on the door of his home all friendly and comfortable to interrupt his time with you is saying, loud, bellyfull, one arm braced against the doorframe so that you can see her eyes flit every few seconds to the thick bulge of muscle there. Your face goes hot, your insides green and bitter, but he’s laughing just handsomely enough that you know it’s not real. You know his real laugh, and it isn’t this one. The woman leans forward, blonde hair and big boobs and batting lashes, but Joel shifts backwards subtly, keeping a respectful distance, and your pulse throbs at the backs of your knees and the pit of your stomach. She likes him, she’s here because she likes him, asking him to look at her dishwasher or something, yeah, sure, sure that’s the only thing she wants looked at.

“I’ll come take a look at it tomorrow. How ‘bout that? I’m sure it’ll be another quick fix like last time, but you should probably think about just replacin’ the thing at this point,'' he tells her.

“Oh, can’t you now, Joel?” She pouts, “It’s just that–”

“I’m tied up tonight, Edie,” he cuts her off, an indulgent, too charming smile on his face, and oh, it pisses you off, that smile. You turn on your heel, stomping down the hall back to his bedroom. Huffing, gnashing your teeth. The sight of him with another woman, a more appropriate woman because of course she is, it makes you sick, angry, something terrible, so, so jealous your bones itch beneath the surface of your skin. It makes you small and slanted again, wrong place, wrong time, wrong girl. Not for him, never for him, and it’s so unfair, and he is so– so… Smiling at her like that, using that tone of voice, propping up his stupid huge arm like that so that his muscle’s all defined and put on display, and you hate him and the way he makes you feel and how much you want and need him. On the verge of tears or screaming or vomiting you scramble around his room, trying to collect your clothes and your strewn panties and where the fuck is your bra and your other shoe?

“What’re you doin’?” Comes his soft, steady voice a moment later. Entirely too even for the way you feel right now. You want to hiss at him or bite him or do something entirely uncivilized.

“I have to go home.”

“Why?”

“I have something to do. I forgot.”

“Something, what? What do you have to do?” But you ignore him, rifling through the strewn clothes on the armchair in the corner – where the hell is your goddamn bra? “Look at me–” he barks, now having stepped further into the bedroom.

“Oh, fuck off,” and there’s a part of you that knows that you’re being irrational, that he’s done nothing wrong, but you feel so provoked suddenly. In need of a fight or a thrashing or something, something to make this terrible feeling poisoning you on the inside go away.

“Watch your mouth, little girl,” and his voice is so calm and so quiet and so scary. It makes you lock up one second, spin around the next to spit and hiss at him like an angry cat. You will not watch your mouth. “She wants you.” You almost stomp your foot like a child throwing a fit, but he’s entirely still and silent, taking you in with the most unfathomable of looks. “Do you know that?” And this time you do stomp your foot. “Do you want her back?”

He blinks once, and then like a lightbulb turning on, even though you’re obvious as daylight, “You’re jealous.”

“Do you want her back?” You ask again, real tears in your voice this time.

And his gaze goes soft and tender and entirely understanding, “Never.” He shakes his head.

“She looked like a fucking idiot.” You pout, childish – how will he ever want you when you act like this?

“I only want you.” But you don’t believe him. How could you? When there’s nowhere for this to go. When he deserves so much more than the options afforded to him here between the two of you. And you want to fight with him because there’s nothing to be done, no choices, no other recourse, and it’s not his fault and there’s no one to blame and no outlet for this terrible anger inside of you. You feel like you’re choking on it, being swallowed whole, that head breaking water feeling reversed so that now you’re deep at the bottom of the well of your own wanting. You turn back to the fruitless search for your bra. He’s hidden it from you, you’re sure, some evil old man ploy to keep you here trapped and braless with him. “Did you hear me? I only want you,” he says again, voice closer now.

And you think you’re mumbling or crying, something hysterical bubbling up inside of you, I have to go, I have to go, your movements manic and jerking. He grips your arm, jerking you around into his chest, face flushed with anger now, but voice still even, “You’re not fucking listening to me. I only want you,” and yanks your hand to feel the hard cock trapped beneath the confines of his jeans. This is only for you. But it’s not, not in any real way, not in a way that would let you keep him and that realization sets something off inside of you. You thrash in his hold, let me go, let me go, trying to kick him in the shins while he tries to wrap his arms around your struggling form, that rumbling chant constant in your ear, I only want you, I only want you, I am only for you. It feels like he’s burrowing beneath your skin, unzipping you, splaying your insides wide open for his gaze, taking hold of your bones, a puppet on his string. You manage to yank your arm out from beneath his grip and unthinking, a buzzing so high pitched it makes you dizzy and nauseous sounding in your ears, you slap him in the face. Not very hard, maybe, but enough that you hear the crack of your palm meeting the grizzled scruff of his cheek. The sound like a bone snapping, setting off something inside both of you even worse, more frenzied than before. He groans deep in his chest, big hand fisting in your hair and jerking it back so hard you yelp in pain. “Hit me again, do it again. I want you any way I can have you, even angry. Do it again,” he goads you on, but that mindless hand is fisted in his shirtfront now, pulling you closer to him, tear stained mouth seeking his, opening to receive his filthy kiss.

“I’m sorry,” you cry, but all he says is that he only wants you, again and again, grips you harder, makes it hurt more, and you whine and whimper and scratch and bite, a wild thing, the two of you caught up in some strange struggle of push and pull and want and fight. You can feel the hard length of his cock grinding against your belly, searching for something hot and wet to fuck into, and you hitch your knee around his hip, open yourself to him, listen to his groan in your ear, throaty and full.

“You just need a little remindin’? Don’t you, huh?” He tugs your head back, none too gentle, to look at your tear slicked face, his eyes on fire, almost a little manic. He spins you away from him, shoving you towards the bed, ignoring your whines and protests, shut up and bend over, pushing you over the edge of the bed and crouching down behind you. “You just need a little remindin’ of how to be a good girl. I know that’s all this fightin’ is. Right, baby?” No, you try and struggle, kicking your leg out uselessly to the side, but he pins you with your arms back behind you at the small of your waist, pushing his shirt up your back to expose the naked curve of your ass and the pussy you know he’ll find humiliatingly wet and hungry for him. “Just need remindin’ of how to be a good girl for me, right?” His fingers slide down to the apex of your thighs, finding you dripping and swollen from his earlier use and your current desire, all twisted up and compounded ten fold with your jealousy.

“So wet already for me, baby,” he coos at you.

And oh, he’s so annoying, and you’re so embarrassing and weak for him. “Shut up, old man,” you whine. A single finger enters you slowly, rubbing up against all the terribly sensitive and swollen places inside of you, then pulls his wet fingers from you to deliver a single stinging swat to the curve of your ass, sticky wet imprint of yourself left behind.

“Yeah, and this old man fucks you better than anyone else,” he slips his fingers gently back inside of you, “Remember that you little whore,” he says even more gently. The words make you twist and writhe, a terrible flush of lust burning through you. He feels you tighten around his fingers, groans appreciatively. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?” He twists his fingers inside of you, pressing hard against something that makes you feel like you’re about to wet yourself. You cry out, squeezing your eyes shut and shaking your head, refusing to answer. “No lyin’. You daddy’s little whore?”

“Nuh uh,” you shake your head, your hips moving with the rhythm of his thrusting fingers. He brushes his thumb slowly over your pulsing clit, plays you like a game.

“No?” His voice is so soft, so teasing.

“I’m not your whore–”

“You’re not? Then what are you, baby? Tell me.”

You’re right there, so close, about to come on his fingers. “I'm your baby. I'm your baby. I’m yours– I belong to you, daddy.” He pulls his fingers from your cunt, hand coming to grip your ass cheek so hard it hurts, fingernails digging into your soft skin, dragging down the smooth surface. You can hear him panting behind you, shaking, trying to control himself. He makes a gruff, rough sound in his throat, gentles his grip on you.

“You don’t think I don’t get fucking jealous?” he spits when he’s finally managed to control himself. “You think I don't think about you with my own son and want to die? That he got to have you in a way I never will, and even worse, wasted you? You don’t think it makes me sick with envy?” He brings his fingers back to play in your wet folds, feels the slick drip of you, thrums at your clit, opening you to him with a hand on your cheek and licking you from clit to asshole. Running the flat expanse of his tongue over the length of your sex and then sucking hard at the apex of nerves, hard enough that you can’t tell if it hurts or feels good or a little bit of both. He’s got you bent over the end of his bed facing the dresser so that you have a clear view of the two of you in the mirror above it. And the sight of him, massive frame crouched down behind you, huge and hulking, face buried in your cunt from behind, the curved slope of his nose, the long, thick lashes, eyes closed like he’s enjoying himself more than he’s ever enjoyed anything else in his entire life as he licks your ass and sucks on your clit. He pulls back, and you watch, almost in slow motion, as he shocks you by swatting your entire sex with his big hand, and then immediately brings his face back to lick and kiss your smarting skin. “But he didn’t fuck you the way you needed to be fucked,” he continues. “And I do. He didn’t understand you, but I do. At least I have that.” It sounds like he’s consoling himself, and you can’t help but find consolation in it as well. Your eyes move up to your own reflection, sweat slicked and tear stained, eyes glassy, wet fingers inside of your mouth because you need something to chew on to stand the terrible throbbing in your cunt on the verge of coming. He licks you again, presses his tongue to your asshole. “Did you ever get wet for him like this?” He pulls back, runs the pads of his fingers over your clit in fast, hard up and down motions, makes it feel so good it hurts, you’re right there, you’re right there, pulls away. “Were you ever desperate for him like this? Cunt all drippy and swollen and pathetic for him like you are for me, my sweet baby?”

Never, daddy. Never. Only you. You can’t lie to him when he’s got his tongue inside of you, it’s just not possible. Only me. Only mine. You press up on your tippy toes, roll back down onto the balls of your feet, “Yeah, rub that sweet pussy all over daddy’s face,” he mumbles into your skin, slurps at you. He wraps his lips around your clit once more, sucks and licks and sucks again, and your cunt goes so, so tight, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, daddy, and then just stops. Pulls away entirely, gets to his feet, leaves you to throb and shiver and beg, whole body flashing hot and cold on the precipice of orgasm. Still holding you pinned in place with your wrists at the small of your back, you watch his eyes roam along your draped form, he drags his hand down the wet length of his face, wiping the drippiness of your slick away. “Stay just like that for me,” and his eyes move to yours in the mirror, as if he’s known the entire time just how riveted on him you’d been. “What?” He asks with a crooked brow and a mean little smirk. “You think you get to come? After that little display?”

“Don’t be mean,” you whisper, staying exactly as he’d directed. Trying your best to be a good girl.

“Shoulda thought of that before, sweet girl.” He bends over the length of you so you’re eye to eye now, gets his face right up close to yours and presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. “You wanna pretend to fight, stand there like an indignant little girl stomping your foot and yellin’ about bein’ jealous while my come runs down your thighs still. Obviously, I’m not doin’ a good enough job of remindin’ you you’re mine, how much I want you. Gonna fix that now.” Presses another soft kiss to your mouth now.

“You’re trying to dominate me,” you whine, struggling to press against his mouth again even as he pulls back out of your reach, plants a big palm between your shoulders to keep you still.

“You bet your fuckin’ ass I am. You’re gonna do what I tell you to when you’re letting me fill you with my come the way you are. And you’re gonna like it too. You get me?”

“Yes, daddy.”

But then he goes serious, that teasing glint in his eyes flickering away suddenly. “You have nothing to be jealous of. Ever. I don’t want anyone but you. I don’t care about anything else but this.” And even though you’re sure it must be a lie, it sounds so lovely, you choose to believe him for now. You nod up at him, sniffling and crying again a little bit. “And no one takes care of you like I do,” he finally says, as if it’s a reminder, a consolation to the both of you once again.

And he’s right, as he tells you to stay put, be a good girl and not move, leaves you there bent over the bed, that chant sounds in your mind, no one takes care of you like he does, no one, no one, no one.

He steps back into his bedroom to the sight of you still draped over the bed, big eyes wet and slightly vacant, pussy red and swollen and bared to him like a wound with his name on it. You’d brought your fingers up to your mouth, chewing on your fingernails the way you did sometimes when you were anxious or overwhelmed, and when your eyes flit to him, taking in the bowl of warm water, the washcloth and shaving cream in his hold, they go wide, shocked. He arranges his things, gripping you by the hips to turn you over, pulling his shirt from you, leaving you entirely naked, and settling between your spread thighs. “Wh– what are you doing?” Voice all breathy and hitched, the thrum of your excited pulse in your throat.

“Gonna shave you bare. Then I’m gonna eat you ‘til you’re crying, ‘til you’re so swollen you can barely take my fingers. After that, I’m gonna wedge my cock inside you and fuck you ‘til you’re so full’a my come you’ll remember not to forget you ain’t got no reason to be jealous ever again.” He strokes your curls gently with the pad of his thumb, something like fondness in the gesture, clicks his tongue. “These’re so pretty. Gonna miss ‘em.”

“Oh my god,” you choke when he drapes the water warmed washcloth over your spread pussy.

“You wanna be a brat, you wanna fight and act like you don’t know I belong to you and you to me? That none of that other shit matters– I’m gonna remind you, don’t worry.”

You crane your neck, pushing up on your elbows to watch him remove the washcloth and cover the soft curls of your groin with shaving cream. When he opens the blade and brings it to your skin, the sight of the straight edged blade against you, the smooth cream as the steel reveals the bare, satin soft skin beneath, has your chest heaving, sweat pooling at the little notch of your throat – fucking gorgeous and his.

“You’re going to be so sensitive, baby,” he murmurs as he bends your leg back and opened wide, splitting you for his gaze. Delicate with the movements of his wrist as he shaves you. “All bare and slick down here, just for me. You’re so swollen already.”

You mumble something, moaning and letting yourself flop back against the mattress, he’s quick to pull the blade from you, pausing his movements while you settle, gives you a second to press the balls of your palms into the sockets of your eyes, whining Joel and daddy and please. And the trust in this moment between the two of you, that you’re letting him wield a blade so close to your fragile center, letting him do this to you as a way to remind the both of you of the power you cede and wield over and to one another, something that gives him the opportunity to inflict his will in a way that recenters you, reminds you that you’re his, his to do with you as he will, and it’s just the two of you in this space and you trust each other implicitly, it has a sense of control swelling inside of Joel, making his cock rock hard in his jeans, leak down his thigh. Control in a way there is none of in everything else between the two of you. Control in a way there cannot exist in any other aspect of your relationship. When he’s finished, he cleans you slowly with a new warm, damp cloth, then goes to put away his supplies, and when he returns, he looms over you, taking in the sight of your little bald cunt now.

Slowly, he starts to pull his clothes off, watching the quick panting of your breathing, the dip and swell of your belly, so aroused by the intimacy you’ve just shared that your pupils are blown wide and dark. “You’ve made such a mess, little girl,” he says, dragging a single finger through your overflowing slit, following the slick from your swollen clit to your asshole where it pools beneath. He fingers your folds gently, avoiding your swollen clit, your little hole winking at him wantonly. “Please–” you whisper so softly, almost gasping for breath you can barely get the words out.

“Oh, I know, sweetheart. I know you need to come so bad, don’t you?” He drags his palms up and down your thighs, up to your waist and then tugs you down over the edge of the bed and onto your knees in front of him, wide eyes riveted hungry on his cock. “How does it feel? So sensitive, isn’t it?” He’s so hard his erection stands straight up towards his belly, balls hanging heavy and full and aching. He gently drags his fingers along your scalp, feels the heat emanating from your skull. “Lick it all over, get it nice and wet so I can put it inside you.” He knows he needs to be careful now. The two of you are wide open to each other in this moment, so on edge he could come just at the look in your eyes, and you, something more than just vulnerable. He’d worried briefly, in the past weeks, if he should stop, send you away, take himself away, tell you it was too much. You were getting too attached, and although he knew it was too late for himself, that he was beyond salvaging when it came to you, he could imagine nothing worse than seeing you come out hurt from this. Could also imagine no scenario in which you wouldn’t anymore. He feeds you his cock, fisted tightly at the root to stave off his impending orgasm, slides all the way to the back of your throat until he feels his tip hit resistance, enjoying the sight of you choking on it for just a second. Good girl. “Fuck– fuck, yes. See, see how good you can be for me?” He tells you as you suck on his tip, hollowing your cheeks and running your tongue all around the wide head, tonguing his foreskin, making him hiss and bear his teeth at you while you look up at him with falsely innocent eyes. He yanks you up and against him, gives you a filthy, wet kiss, all tongue and teeth and false control, swallowing down the taste of his own precum. He’s never felt less in control of himself, of a situation, than he does right now. He has, in these past weeks, entirely lost sight of himself, of what this should and should not have been, blindly led by his cock and his heart. He’s lost all control, and Joel is nothing but weakness and want now.

Turning you in his arms, he sits at the edge of the bed, thighs spread wide and pulls you onto his lap, impaling you back onto his spit-slick cock so swiftly he doesn't even think you’re expecting it until he’s bumping against your womb, your knees hooked and spread wide over his own. Too desperate to lick your cunt again the way he’d planned. You let out a long, shocked keen, back arching, trying to escape the too big cock suddenly shoved inside of your tiny hole. Joel has to grit his teeth, take deep breaths through his nose and out through his mouth before he can speak at the feel of you fluttering and pulsing around him, “The more you whine, the harder I’ll fuck you, got it?” There’s nothing even close to a coherent response coming out of your mouth, and he was right, shaved bare like this, you’re so much more sensitive. He pulls the lips of your sex gently apart around where he’s impaling you, takes in the sight of your little hole stretched obscenely around his fat cock in the mirror’s reflection and slowly starts to seesaw his hips back and forth, watching his glossy length disappear in and out of you. “How does it feel, baby? You’re so pretty, look at yourself.” He whispers into the small shell of your ear, presses a soft kiss to the lobe, tugs on it with his teeth. He slides in all the way, pulling your hips down so that his balls press against the curve of your ass. “Look, see where daddy’s so deep inside you – can see it in your belly.” Your head lolls back on his shoulder, gaze hooded and delirious, but your hand moves down to the soft skin of your stomach, gently cupping the outline of his cock inside of you. “I’m so deep inside of your tiny cunt, baby. Look at how you’re all mine–” He starts to move again, flicking at your clit, interchanging between fast and hard and slow and so soft you can barely feel it, and your face looks like you want to say something, tell him something, scream, but can’t. And there’s so much he’d like to tell you too, all the things you deserve and probably need to hear from him, but can’t either. He feels you start to tighten up on him, the heat in your body suddenly seeming to flush higher and brighter, almost to boiling, your cunt going so, so tight it almost pushes him out. He presses inside harder, holds you in place with one hand, and thrums fast and hard at your clit with the other, focusing the tip of his cock at the front wall of your pussy, “You’re gonna come–” he grunts, holds you in place and hammers into that swollen place inside of you he’d kill to own for the rest of his life. “Fuck– fuck, you’re gonna squirt all over my cock, aren’t you? Can feel it–” Your face spasms, your belly clenching hard and tight, and you gush, letting out a pained, animal sound, voice broken and breathless, wetting both of your thighs with your come, the bed covers beneath soaked dark. Joel doesn’t stop. He wants more, again, all of you, thrums again at your clit with the pads of his fingers, changes the angle of your hips to roll you fast and hard onto his come-slicked length, pinches your clit hard, watches you squirt all over him again. Something like the sound of his name leaves your mouth in a broken cry, your chewed raw nails trying to claw at him ineffectively. “Dirty fucking girl – creamin’ all over your daddy’s cock,” his voice is gruff, not entirely his own. There’s something here – you’d told him once you’d always felt out of control. In your relationship with Sam, aware of what he was, always, of what you were and were not, and that there was something about control that was so necessary to you now. And there is something here like control, your control over him, taking hold of him entirely so he’s unsure of what it is he should and should not be, here and now, with you. He should not be delusional, he should be aware. He is not adhering to either very well.

He goes to his feet with you still impaled on his throbbing length, erection so hard it hurts, can barely stand up straight, blood pounding on rhythm to the chant of your name. He pulls you from him, watches the slick slide of your cunt walls dragging along his length, the cream of your slick left as a reminder all over his skin. He presses you onto the bed, rolls you this way and that too look at you all over, bends to drag his tongue through that drippy cunt of yours that squirts and comes so prettily for him, then back up and kneeling above you, between your glossy thighs, and thrusting into that tight cunt, grunting as you clench around him. So hard he feels the screaming tip of his cock punch against your cervix, listens to you make a hurt, hiccupy sound when his balls slap against you.

He should be gentle. He should be careful. He should be aware, not delusional, himself. He should reach back and take hold of that man he always thought himself to be, hard and cold but never cruel. Maybe not good, but always aware and never weak. He’s none of those things now here with you. Joel is now only himself. You’ve made me into a real person, you’d whispered onto his tongue. What he’d not told you was that you’d done the same to him.

You’re a gift, a gift, a gift, a gift. A gift in the way his son never was. A gift in the way that a whole lifetime lost and returned to him never was, and Joel is weak and two feet tall and made of paper, but for you. Anyways, or despite it all, still made only for you.

“Fuck me like you’re in love with me,” you say, read his mind, take hold of the beating mass in his chest. Fuck me like you’re in love with me. And maybe you don’t mean it. Maybe you’re too far gone. It doesn’t matter.

He does it anyway. Pulls back, wedges back inside the too swollen, too sensitive, too tiny cunt that belongs to him. He bears his teeth at you, grabs hold of your face so hard you’ll bruise, and fucks you like he’s in love with you. It comes to him so easily, after all.

Shoving his knees high up beneath your thighs, he brings your ankles to his shoulders, little feet knocking against his ears, he wishes for sense, he finds none, only a deeper, sharper angle. The sounds of your cries and the things you whisper in his ear he knows you should not say and he should not listen to that fill him full of things he should not feel like I was made for you and daddy, there’s no one like you and come inside me, please, please, I need it. He pulls his hips back, swings them forward, listens to the sound of his balls slap, and you beg for harder, savors the fire that pools in his belly and the base of his spine. And he thinks that he should pull out, he’s been so fucking careless with you and your future and your vulnerability, but he’s like a monster full of greed, intent on nothing but staking his claim, leaving a claim, desperate for a way to be remembered or never forgotten or never left behind. “We have to be careful,” he begs you, and feels scared and terrible for a moment, not to be trusted with a gift like this in his hands. “I’m going to get you fucking pregnant, God.”

But you’re like some siren, something taking him away from himself, and you tell him, “I don’t care, I don’t care,” voice gone so far away from yourself too, all hazy, full of bubbles and too cock drunk to be true or sane, but it lands like a gut punch anyway. And Joel tries to hold onto himself he does, he swears he does, tries to remain rational, and aware of what this was supposed to be and not supposed to be. Tells you to please, “Shut up, shut up. Please, don’t say those things to me, I’m begging you.” But eventually that siren song wins out, the feel of your cunt sucking him deeper, milking him dry, your small damp hands pulling at his hair, stubby nails dragging down the skin of his cheeks, over his back, and Joel’s weak now. Weak and full of want and greed and delusion so that all that’s left is capitulation and: “You want daddy to fuck his babies into you? You want me to fill you up and keep you forever?” But something of himself must remain because he covers your mouth, big hand wrapped around your sweaty little face before you can answer, forcing the words silent inside of your mouth, the truth you both know you’d spit out otherwise. Yes, yes, I do. And as if the idea of you carrying his child held a direct like to your orgasm, you start to come around him, overwhelmed cunt, split in two and carved in the shape of his name now, clenching around him, going so wet and hot and tight Joel’s sure he’ll never be able to leave it ever again. You reach down between the two of you, grasp the half of his cock outside of your wet clutch, shiny with your slick and jack him off with sharp little tugs, make sure he fills you with his spend full to the brim. He spills over and out, dribbles down the slope of your ass to leave you lying in a little puddle of his semen, and when he pulls out, careful to not ask you to hold all of his weight over you, he brings your fingers to your gaping cunt, “Feel where daddy’s been,” lets you play in the imprint of himself he’s left behind.

He lays beside you, steaming hot little thing worming up against him, nuzzling beneath his chin, pressing tiny kisses that tell him all the things the both of you need to hear and say, and he feels himself go cool and dry inside and out. Something terrible suddenly swelling within him. Something that reeks of truth, and you must smell it in the air as well because you share a piece of your own painful honesty with him, force him to confront it. “Sometimes I think I’m impossible to love,” in the smallest voice he’s surely ever heard.

“Haven’t I shown you how untrue that is?” Because if there’s one thing he’ll never do with you, it’s lie.

You tuck your hand beneath your cheek, and you glow, and he feels blinded by it for a moment, eyes wide and so vulnerably tender, something afraid that makes something equally vulnerable inside of him rage and beat its chest. “Is that what this is? Are we in love, Joel?”

He thinks you must see the fear in his eyes, because yours suddenly go calm, fathomless, something steady for him to hold on to, and that stench of honesty chokes him. “Yeah–” he nods, swallows, thinks of his son, hates himself. “I think so, baby.”

What can remain the same after honesty like that? After splitting yourself open and showing each other your insides in such a way? What could possibly remain the same? Nothing. The truth is laid bare, and all that’s left now. And instead of setting you free, the truth never really sets you free, it makes everything terribly fraught and frightened and fragile.

When he moves to stand, the sound of your desperation for him to make you his in an irreversible way rings like exploding shrapnel in your ears, “Do you think we’re bad?” You ask because you’ve only ever wanted to be good, but his eyes are so haunted, large and round and fathomless. His face, taking on a sudden sort of gauntness as he thinks of what to say to you after the worst has already been said. You watch the line of his throat ripple as he swallows several times, reading the real truth in his eyes before he shakes his head slowly, incongruous like a lie, “Never you,” and he does not include himself, “Never you.” It’s devastating. Devastating that the only thing that’s ever mattered, the thing that has finally made you good, is bad in his eyes.

You sit at the kitchen table, watching him while he makes dinner for you. Cold and shivery and wet between your legs in a way that’s not comfortable anymore. In a way that feels like an essential part of you is slowly dripping out, leaving you grossly empty inside. The beautiful dinner he’d bought and made for you tastes like ash wrapped in all the honesty surrounding the two of you, and you stare at each other and there's no need for more words because the truth is all right here in front of the two of you to see with your own two eyes. You want to go get dressed, but you don’t want to call attention to the seed of wrongness that’s been planted now. Are we in love? When the answer had so obviously been yes for so long already. Naive, silly girl. And you want to be angry with him. Ask him why he’d done this to you, made you fall in love with him when he’d said before that you couldn’t, when it was all so hopeless. You also want to hear him say it, say the words out loud with teeth and tongue and sound, you want to taste the words in your mouth because seeing them in his eyes wrapped in all that hopelessness isn’t nearly enough to satiate this hunger he’s stoked inside of you. You want to ask him to hold you, to crawl into his lap and have him cradle you like a child protected in the embrace of stronger, wiser arms. You want to have never been put on this path, to have never met his son, never have married him, never have met him. You want the whole terrible ordeal to be wiped from mind and mouth and memory. You want to have not had to accept it all, not have moved on, not be grateful in ways you can’t even understand for the lesson it’d all posed. You want it all to have never happened. To never have experienced the entire convoluted mess of feelings this ordeal of tearing down your entire life to make yourself anew had caused. To have never fallen in love with your ex-husbands father.

He sits in his chair, hands cupping his chin for so long, silent and staring, probably wondering what to do with you, and when he finally stands, nothing but a long, pained sigh to interrupt the terrible silence, you finally muster the strength to go find that missing bra. Crawl home, once again a ghoul in the night in need of wound licking. And it must be that very same terrible silence, the even more terrible look in his eyes that has something pressurized, set to burst, bottled inside of you because when a knock on the door sounds once again, you don’t even stop for half a thought, exploding suddenly. In his clothes and come, ripping the door open, the words on your tongue ready to spit at her that he’s already got one desperate woman on his hands that needs taking care of, and no, he will not be fixing her dishwasher or her pussy or anything else she thinks she might need him for.

But it’s not the neighbor. And you have nothing but fear lodged in your throat to spit out when you meet his eyes.

Eyes like his father’s, colder, crueler, furious and humiliated, take you in. Just fucked hair and a flannel that’s not your own, mis-buttoned, come-dryed thighs. And worst of all, his voice, like he isn’t even that surprised, like he’d come here just to find this, “You fucking whore.”

“Sam–” you’re not sure if you actually say his name, but the intention is held there, on the tip of your tongue. A plea for mercy or a shout for help or protection or something.

“You fucking whore,” and you flinch at the scream in his throat, scuffle back into the safety of the house of the man you love who is the father of the man you were married to, the man who broke you, the betrayed son. He’s shocked still for a single second, before he’s charging at you, fist not entirely raised but definitely held with consideration. And, “I knew it, I always fucking knew it,” before Joel is there, stepping between you and your ex-husuband, his son, blocking you with his body, big hand wrapping entirely around your forearm to hold you close to himself, to hold you in his protection.

“You better put your fucking arm down before I break it, son.” That moment, Joel’s voice, the utter betrayal in his son’s eyes. The sound of you breaking something that you should have never ever gotten in between. It is worse than all the rest. You take him in, the sight of this man who you used to be married to, he’d always seemed so large in your eyes before, so unattainable. Something never to be fully touched, only gazed upon. Always apart, always cold. Sam’s eyes fall to the place where his father holds you, and his face spasms, something terrible. Broken and alone, a child cast out into the cold. And you want to say that he seems so different now, haggard and gaunt and whittled down to bare bones, but it isn’t the truth. You always knew what he was, your most terrible bit of honesty. You always knew, you’d just not cared before. There was never any separation, no space for you to take a breath and want better for yourself. To be under his scrutiny, something that at one time felt like admiration, but was never anything even close, it was like nothing else, like everything, a great lie. But he was too aware of it, of himself, of that power he held over you, and unlike his father, he was cruel with it. Your eyes move up to the back of Joel’s head, the hard edge of his jaw, the muscle that spasms furiously there. What would it do to you now to be under that same sort of attention, influence, admiration, but from a kinder, gentler, honest source? What had it done to you? Dangerous to risk yourself again, impossible to stop now.

“I always knew it,” he says again, “I always knew you wanted him. What? You let him fuck you?” The words in his mouth are a terrible thing, Joel says something, tells him to hold his tongue, to get the fuck out, but your eyes are riveted on the sight of his face, this man you used to be married to who’d broken you so completely, who’d stolen your very memory of yourself. He seems wholly unrecognizable now, and in a way, it frightens you, that someone you’d known for what seemed like so long could be such a stranger now. Joel’s hand is an anchor, such a comfort wrapped around your arm. “You barely let me touch you for two years, but you’ll bend over like a whore for my fucking Dad?” His voice breaks and it makes you want to laugh a little bit.

Joel shoves him backward, jerking you forward still in his hold. “Say that word one more time in my house, and I won’t be held responsible for what I do to you. And don’t fucking look at her,” he snaps, reaching up to give him a quick two tapped slap on the cheek to focus his gaze on himself. “Get out, Sam. I’ll call you later. We can–”

But unheeded or too far gone, like he needs to hear the sound of the words as a comfort to himself in this moment, Sam looks back at you, “You’re a fucking whore. I wish I’d never met you, I hate you.” Joel shoves him backwards again, harder this time so that his leg slams into the side table, overturning the lamp there into a crashing heap on the floor, so hard that when he pulls you with him it feels as if he’ll wrench your shoulder from its socket with the force of his anger. You yelp in pain, but cling to him anyways, refusing to let him go either, hiding behind the hill of his shoulder. Pushing his son away, not letting you go. It’s wrong, it’s wrong and you’d told him that you wanted to keep him, to take him away from his own son, that you were made of nothing but greed, but there’s something wrong here, inherently not right, bad.

And even yet, you can’t help the look on your face that must surely be nothing short of humiliating to Sam for the way he reddens, the little muscles in his face jerking uncontrollably. You’re done here, Sam. Get the fuck out, Joel says again, taking a step forward to herd him out, pulling you along, keeping you close. You taunt him with your gaze, can’t help yourself, “I thought I was a prude?” You say from behind the protection of his father’s body. “Isn’t that what you called me for all those years? Thought I was frigid, unfuckable, unlovable? Am I not anymore?” You ask in a small, breathy voice, falsely guileless, entirely provoking. “Have you changed your mind now that I’ve taken your Daddy from you?” False pout and mocking eyebrow.

Joel’s head snaps over his shoulder, incredulous look on his face, and Sam flinches as if struck, splintered glass in the shape of his son’s gaze, it fractures, falls back to where Joel holds you.“I wanted to talk to you,” He says to his father, “I wanted to– You’re really choosing her over me?” It costs Sam something to say this, and you weren’t expecting it either because suddenly, the game changes. His voice is child-like in its hurt, that son who longed for his father for all those years. “After everything that was stolen from us, you’re not going to choose me?” You know in that moment, he’s won.

“This isn’t about choice, son,” Joel tells him, but you hear it for the lie it is. “This isn’t about you versus her.”

“But it is,” and his eyes flash to yours, victory held in them. “She was my wife. And you’re my father, and you have to make a choice now. This is fucking sick.” There’d always been an intelligence to his cruelty, and he wields it now. The sound of his son’s name is a choked thing in Joel’s mouth. He goes rigid, a painful stillness, muscles vibrating with warring emotions. You hold your breath for it. He looks down at where he holds you, tightens his grip painfully, and then slowly, so that the three of you are sure to take in the whole procession of it, he lets go of your arm. One finger at a time, the heat of his palm leaving you, and you’re alone.

“It isn’t about choice,” he says again, and yet, one has already been made. You stand still, head bent, gaze riveted on the place where he’d let you go. He takes a step away from you, towards his son, and his voice is low and gentle and soothing now, and you’re still staring at the barrenness of your arm.

I had such potential to be good, you think. He just never saw it. But you don’t know who you mean. And you don’t think it matters anymore.

They say more to each other. Joel’s hand on his son’s arm now, pushing him towards the door, but still, still comforting for the thing it symbolizes, a benediction of choice, and you turn around to face the other side of the room. You can’t look – wrapping your arms around yourself. You don’t think you’ll run this time. Face it head on, let it be over now in full. Sam’s voice rings shrill, the sound of your name and curses and accusations, fighting a futile fight against his father’s even baritone, the sound of the slamming door, and then silence. When you turn back over your shoulder, they’ve stepped outside together, leaving you alone inside the house.

He’d asked you once what you wanted, and you can’t fathom what the point of it had been. What does it matter what I want? That’s the least significant thing here. It always was.

When he finally comes back inside, you’re dressed, lost bra retrieved, your bag packed and sitting at your feet. You’d gone into the kitchen just before, taken a peek at the pie, and you were right, and you don’t know how he could have possibly known, but he’d gotten you rhubarb. Your face is dry now, no tears and no will to cry. There’s nothing to speak of in his gaze when he leans back against the door to look at you, swallowing down words you’re sure will mean nothing in the face of all of this. And you look at him and you love him and you think, I was married to a man once and now I’m not and now I’m with his father and I love him in the way I never loved the son; and so now, I must ask myself, am I merely looking for the love of lesser man, who could have never given me what I needed, in the eyes of a man who seems to have all the answers?

You don’t think so. And yet, there are still no answers to be had, and no questions left to ask.

“I’m going this time,” In case he has designs to force you to stay, and even though there’s a light of acceptance in his eyes, he still shakes his head. Swallows and gathers his seams about himself before he says, “You aren’t leaving me,” gaze churning from warry to flinty to resolved.

“I was never supposed to stay at all. I was never supposed to be for you. You said so yourself– you said we couldn’t fall in love. That I wasn't for you.” You get to your feet, pulling your purse over your shoulder, and he rushes towards you, pushing the bag back down to the floor, taking your face in his hands hard, something like panic in his eyes and in the air and in the vibration of his voice.

“It doesn’t matter, none of that matters– Whatever was before, whatever was in the past doesn’t mean shit when it’s just you and me here together–” And you’re crying now, real, great sobs of grief.

“You were the one that said we couldn’t fall in love,” you cry again, try and pull away, but he holds you to himself, squeezes you against him, shivers like he too is crying, burying his face in your shoulder.

“I was a fucking idiot, a damn liar. There was never any other option, baby.” Most terrible of terrible truths, you’d both known if for the lie it was the moment he’d said it, even before, probably. You stand limply in the circle of his embrace. He’d said once that he’d been a coward not to go out and look for you, but you know the opposite is true. No one is more of a coward than you were for not having waited for him. For having been so desperate for love, you’d been willing to settle for the wrong kind. You’ll never be able to settle for false comfort like that again, and it’s all his fault. “You’ve ruined me now. I’m ruined.”

He pulls back to take your face in his hands again, and you were right, he is crying. “I’m ruined! And I need you to give me another chance. I demand another chance– to… to fix this. To–”

But another chance for what? To change what? “He’s your son, and I only want you to be happy.” And you know he couldn’t ever be happy, truly happy, estranged from his only child. After all, like he’d said, the theft of him had been the worst thing ever done. You wouldn’t commit a crime like that against Joel also, never.

“Baby, please, I think… I– I love–”

“Please–” You press the tips of your fingers to his mouth, silencing him. “Please, don’t do this to me now.” It makes you angry, this intent of his to trap you here with his love when there’s no room for you to stay. You turn away, picking up your bag again, but he snatches you back into himself, wrapping his big arms around your waist, crushing you against his chest. And you’d struggle if you could, but there’s so little fight left in you. “You’re the one that said – you said we couldn’t!”

“I know what I fucking said,” he spits, voice so angry it almost frightens you. “But there’s still– We have to talk, we have to–”

“What can you possibly imagine there’s left to say?”

“Everything.”

“Or nothing.”

“Look at me. Look at me–” He pulls your head back and to the side by your chin. There’s a bright flush sitting high on his cheekbones, and his eyes shift quickly back and forth between yours, searching for a way to fix this. To fix the good thing that’s now been broken. His thumb strokes the point of your chin softly, and he presses his mouth slowly to yours, eyes open to watch for your reaction. “This wasn’t a mistake,” he tells you, “We weren’t a mistake.” Weren’t. The final nail in the coffin. “I know, I know that there are so many things– that we can’t… but just– just stand here with me for one minute, please. Just give me one more second, and I’ll–”

He doesn’t finish the thought, and you let him kiss you one last time. And when he pulls back, because it doesn’t feel like it really matters, and because you just want to hear the sound of it coming out of your mouth, because you wish it was true and not the complete opposite, because you want to be as cruel and ugly outside as you feel on the inside, you whisper, “I hate you,” a full bodied lie.

His eyes shutter and flicker for a moment, a wash of hurt suffusing them. But because he’s never been a weak man and because he’s always been honest, and he’s always, always above everything else, been good, he says, “And I love you,” and there it is. You’d thought you wanted to hear the sound of that too, but now that you have, it’s more terrible than you could have ever possibly imagined. And after that, there really is nothing left to say.

Joel goes to see his brother afterwards because it’s what he always does and who he always goes to when he’s lost. When a son in the shape of a man made of nothing but childish fear and anger and hurt, had appeared one day, dropped out of the blue sky, onto his front porch, when he realized he wanted his daughter-in-law in a way no good man should. And now, that he’s admitted, because the realization had already been there, swift and uncompromising, the admittance had been all that was left, the hard going part, that he was in love with you – in love with the woman who had been married to his son, here he finds himself again. Lost and weak and two feet tall, made of nothing but hollow bones. “I’m not myself,” he tells Tommy, and then amends the lie because he’s not come here to tell lies. “She’s made me into someone I don’t recognize and wish I could be forever.” How would he get his old self back now? Impossible. You’d taken him away with you, he was only half made now, half man, half strength. And Tommy is understanding because it has always only been the two of them, and he’s always seen Joel for exactly who he is without judgement. The most honest eyes in the whole world, his brother. “I'm afraid that she’s the love of my life. I’m afraid that I’m not really so afraid at all. And she won’t even talk to me.” You’d left his house a week and a day ago, and Joel was going out of his mind, losing pieces of himself along the way, his sanity, his sense of right and wrong, his self restraint, self possession. He was about to do something crazy, he felt it gnawing and itching at his bones. He could barely remember the look of betrayal in his own son’s eyes amidst the madness of the memory of the hurt in yours, the sight of you walking away from him. “And my son. My son, my child, Tommy, he hates me. And I’m in love with the woman he used to be married to, who he hurt. And he’s a cruel and small man, and he needs me. He needs my help, and I have a responsibility to him. But Tommy– Tommy, I love her. She’s mine. And what am I going to do? What am I going to say to him? How will I ever face him again? She’s mine, and I– I can’t explain it, I can’t excuse it. But she’s mine– she’s my woman. She belongs to me. I know this as well as I know my own name, my own face.”

And his brother, his brother, his brother who always understands him, who always stands beside him, he claps him on the shoulder and says, “If anyone can find a way, Joel, it’s you. I know you can. You’re stronger and smarter than anyone I’ve ever known. And you don’t abandon yours.” And so Joel must believe him because Tommy is his brother, and he knows him, and he knows that even though he’s weak now, even if he must let himself be weak now, in the face of all of this, Joel is not truly a weak man where it counts.

You and Sam had only ever spoken once on the topic of children. It was, from the first moment broached, a non possibility, not even half of an option. Devastating, but now, all this time later, almost like a grace from God. You’d wanted a baby so badly, more than anything in the whole world, and he would not give you one. He’d said your desire for a child was incongruous with your cold nature, how frigid you were.

And you’d been so long, caught in the who am I, in the what am I doing. You never stopped to ask why. Molded into a bad shape, but mute and deaf to the intricacies of what had carved you so. You’d needed to destroy yourself entirely, tear down everything around yourself, and then recreate yourself and everything else in your life in a new image. Perhaps, then, you’d finally have the chance to be good.

Your husband’s father had given you this. Joel had given you this.

And Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel. How to tell him that you’re sorry? That you’re vile and cruel and yes, even cold sometimes, but for him, for him you can find it in yourself to be soft, something to be forgiven, you hope. His son had called you a prude, and then, his father’s whore. Did it matter what the truth was? You weren’t so sure. Did you want Joel because you were a whore? Because your own father had never loved you, and you were thus desperate to fill that void left by lesser, crueler men? Did it matter? You hated the idea that this desire for him had to have been born by consequence of another man. What about what you wanted? What about the fact that it felt good when he was inside of you? When he gave it to you rough and hard and when he told you that you belonged to him because you did, because it was the truth. What about the fact that you were in love with him? That should have counted more because you said it counted more. And then that was it, nothing more to the thing of it. So what if he was the father of the man who’d been your husband? The man who’d stolen all of your surety, your passion, yourself. Sometimes, retribution feels fucking good. So what about it? And then, and after all, you were in love with him. So what did it all matter after that?

People liked to say that sometimes a bad thing is worth it if it feels good enough. But what if you didn't think it was bad at all, and what if it didn’t just feel good enough? What if it’s actually everything, the best thing you’d ever had in your whole life? And what if it is simply and solely, or maybe even also, who cares, who cares, what if it is simply because it’s Joel? Joel who is beautiful and strong and good. Maybe even perfect in a way that you need.

He’d told you once that he’d never had the chance to be angry, that it had been stolen from him, the worst thing ever done to me, he’d said. You know that you could never do that to him. Never hurt him in that way. And there might be so many options. Choices. Truths. Yourself. Finally, you are only yourself. Good in the way he’d shown you to be. In a way that did not bow to anything but the sort of goodness you needed. But Joel; above all else, Joel. He is the first choice, and everything else seems inconsequential after that. What is goodness worth in the face of all he’s given you?

So, you sit now, within the basin of your empty bathtub, no more leaky kitchen sink echoing through your empty apartment, he’d fixed it weeks ago, and peer over the lip of the tub. And there, blinking up at you from the face of the skinny pink and white stick, is your answer to goodness. It had always been within yourself. And you think, if it must be just the two of us now, then let it. After all, your father has finally taught me how to be good.

End.

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Updates Blog!

#pink fic #Joel miller #Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller x you #Joel Miller/ reader #Joel Miller/ you #Joel Miller smut #Joel Miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us au #Joel Miller au #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

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the-froschamethyst4 · 6 months

Text

Body Worship

➤ Day 11

𖤐Pairing: Husband! König x Wife! F! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: Smut, NSFW, strong language, P in V, married couple, biting, boob grabbing, touching, dirty talking, eating out, mentions of pregnancy, badly translated German,

𖤐Summary: Y/n just had her first baby girl, and she has started to hate her stomach, it hasn't gone back to being flat and she has been scared that König may leave her because she wasn't skinny like she used to be and is worried her stomach may stop them from being active in the bedroom.

——————

Y/n stood in the mirror after her shower, she was in a matching bra and panty set looking at her stomach and pinching at the fat on her stomach. She grumbled at it and grabbed an oversized t-shirt and some sweatpants; she didn't want König to see her.

Their baby daughter, Heidi was asleep in the middle of the big King-sized bed. König was at work and would be home in a little bit. Y/n got back on the bed next to her sleeping daughter, she looked down at her and smiled.

She's glad that she could have her daughter being born and that the born went smoothly for her and Heidi. She was also worried about her and her husband's personal actives. Heidi was born 2 months ago, and she was worried König might have stopped liking her after the birth.

König walked through the door of his house and immediately walked up the stairs knowing his wife and daughter were upstairs on the bed. He smiled and removed his mask so he wouldn't scare his daughter. He smiled once again and kissed his daughter's forehead.

She shifted in her sleep and König gently picked her up and took her to her nursery and laid her down, he tried to make sure his tactical gear wasn't too loud and wouldn't also hurt her either.

He goes back into his shared bedroom and saw his wife Y/n now awake.

"Hey, mamas," he coos as he started striping from his gear.

"Did you just get home?"

"Yep. Why are you in sweatpants? You usually sleep in shorts, you get too hot in sweatpants," König knows his wife all too well.

"I was cold," she lied. Y/n thought her thighs were too thick and jiggled too much when she walked.

"Okay," he said, grabbing clean boxers and getting under the covers.

"King?"

"Hm?" He looks up at her.

"Do...Do you...still like me?"

"What?" He chuckles. "What type of fucking answer is that? Why would you say that?"

"...Because I've gained weight..."

"Weight? You think...a little bit of baby weight will scare me? Liebling (sweetheart) if weight was going to scare me off...then I would have left when you were pregnant with Heidi...I would NEVER leave you just because of some baby weight...liebling if anything...you look so fucking sexy with baby weight on," König crawled to Y/n.

Her back hit the mattress of the bed with König just above her.

"K-King." His hands went to her face and dropped to her chest gently squeezing her waist. She lets out a soft moan. His hands then went up her shirt grabbing her stomach, he then lifts it up over her head.

"Goddamn, liebe (love) you are so sexy," he bites his lip and kissed her neck and down between the valley of her breasts. His hands went around her back and unhooked her bra tossing it away.

"Don't ever think that I don't want you, liebe. I will always want you, you are someone I want in my life, for fucks sake you gave birth to my tochter (daughter)." He said, kissing her left boob and groping her right one. She moans as she looked down at him sucking on her chest and leaving purple hickies on her.

"K-King," he smirks and kept kissing her chest. His hands then went down to her sweatpants pulling them off completely and tossed them somewhere in the bedroom and her panties were tossed away too, leaving her completely naked underneath him.

"Heilige Scheiße (holy fuck)." He mumbles.

"What?" She sounded nervous.

"You are so fucking gorgeous," he attacks her lower half licking between her wet folds and earning a soft moan from her lips. She covered her mouth thinking she was going to wake up Heidi.

"Moan for me, liebe (love), I want to hear you moan."

"B-But I don't w-want to wake up, H-Heidi." She stutters.

"Even she does I'll go get her," he said, licking her folds again. She grabbed a handful of his hair.

"Don't...Don't stop, K-King," she moans.

"Das hatte ich nicht gelpant (I wasn't planning on it)," he said with a smirk on his face and kissed her inner thighs and bit the fat of her thighs. She moans and her back arched, he smirked at her and licked between her folds.

He started to remove his boxers showing his thick cock and pushing it inside of her lower half. She moans and looks down at her stomach seeing his dick bulging in her stomach.

"AH!" She moans and throws her head back.

"Aww~ kleine mamas (little mamas)," his hand went down her stomach and felt his dick inside of her. "Jesus, liebe (love) you look so cute with my cock inside of you, holy shit," he threw his head back and looked back down at her.

"I'm not hurting you, am I kleine mamas?" She shook her head. König grabbed her chin making her look at his eyes. "Worte, kleine mamas (Words little mamas)."

"Nein (no)."

"God," he threw his head back again and started to thrust even harder and faster inside of her. "You are even more sexy when you speak Deutsch (German)," he groans.

"Ah! AH! AHHH!" She moans.

"God, you are such a goddess, sexy body, you carried...a baby inside of you for...9 months...you take my cock like a whore, my whore, and you feel so fucking good," he moans.

Her hands went to his stomach touching his abs and moaning when she felt herself about to cum. She threw her head back and looked back at König's face. Sweat dripped from his brow and within one more thrust, she ended up coming on his dick.

"Ahhh~ liebe (love)," he moans. His forehead rested on hers and he watched her twitch when she felt a rush of König's cum leak right into her.

He moved himself out of her and watched the cum leak from her clit. He smirks and licks his lips before licking between her folds, she moans and gripped a handful of his hair.

"Now...let's get you cleaned up, liebe."He coos as he picks her up.

--------

Heidi was yelling for her parents to come and get her from her crib, she didn't care who as long as she was being held by one of them. Y/n came into her daughter nursery and picked her up, Y/n made some calming 'shushing' sounds trying to get her to quiet down.

König came into the nursery and saw his wife humming a soft tune and his little girl's eyes just softly about to close. He smiled to himself seeing his little girl asleep, Y/n was about to lay Heidi back in her crib, but König stopped her.

"Come on, let's bring her to our bed," he said.

"Okay," she whispered and walked past König and headed back to her shared bedroom. She laid on her side and gently laid Heidi between her and her husband.

König smiled at his two girls, he moved Y/n's hair from her face, she was looking down at her baby girl. He looked down at Heidi too and placed his head on his pillow.

Y/n moved the blanket over her body, Heidi's tiny body and König's body. She placed her hand on Heidi's tummy and closed her eyes drifting off to sleep.

#cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #fandom #fanfic #call of duty #mw2 #cod #könig x you #konig mw2 #könig modern warfare #könig mw2 #könig smut #könig x reader #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig fanfiction #könig

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sneepseverus · 2 months

Note

May I please request Snape x insecure, chubby female reader?

Reader is having a bad day and Snape is there to cheer her up. Can be smut or not, I'll leave that up to you!

Thank you in advance!

Yes! I don't know what exactly you had in mind, but I decided to take the approach I did knowing how harmful social media can be and how easy it is to compare yourself to "influencers" who edit their photos/videos and promote unhealthy fad diets to achieve a body they may not even have lol. I'm sure it's something a lot of us can relate to 🙃

Warnings:

Body image issues, disordered eating habits

NSFW (p in v) -> MINORS DNI

Word count: 1.3k

"Severus, can I ask you something?"

"Yes, what is it?"

"Do you...find me attractive?"

He dropped the book in his hands before turning to you to meet your eyes. "Of course, I do, darling." He couldn't understand what prompted you to ask such a question. He may not be the best with his words, but he was certain the way he held you, kissed you, and made love to you were clear indications of his desire for you. Perhaps he was wrong, though.

"Okay, good," you responded, but you didn't seem convinced.

"Where is all this coming from, love?" He inched closer to you, placing a finger on your chin to turn your face towards him as he wrapped you in his embrace. "Did I ever do anything to make you feel otherwise? Please tell me, because—"

"N-no," you interjected. "I just...don't understand how you could look at me and...want me like that."

Hearing you talk down about the person he loved most stung deeply into his heart. "How could I not want you? How could you say that about yourself?"

"I'm sorry! Let's just drop this; forget I even said anything." You pulled away from him, but his grip around you tightened.

"No, I'm not dropping this. Look at me," he ordered, cupping your cheeks as he wiped your trailing tears away. "Tell me what happened."

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes as you attempted to gather your thoughts without breaking down. "Sev, I...I've been feeling insecure lately. Like a lot. As I was flipping through magazines, you know it hit me that I don't look anything like those women in there. Fuck, it’s so embarrassing to admit because I know I shouldn't compare myself, but it's how I've been feeling, and I just don't understand how someone could be into me like that. I'm not skinny or slim like them, and I...don’t know, but I don’t feel good about myself at all.”

"Do you really think those models really look like that, too? Without manipulating the photographs somehow or compromising their health, at least?"

You shook your head, knowing that he was right, but it was hard to remember sometimes.

"Pardon me, but I find it incredibly difficult to understand how the very same person who finally made me feel content with my own self is talking about themself like this. Do you remember what I was like before we met? I barely ate; I practically lived on black coffee to keep myself awake, alive even. I neglected myself in multiple ways and excused my frequent meal skipping as me being far too busy to take care of myself, but really, I didn't think I was deserving of proper nourishment. I knew what I was doing was wrong but couldn't stop. I came to hate looking at myself because I knew I was the cause of my own predicament. I found myself disgusting, absolutely appalling.

But when you came into my life, you made sure that I ate, even when I wasn't particularly hungry. And I loved all the times we shared meals and cooked together; I still do. Eventually, I put on weight. And guess what else? I'm energized. I can do all the things I need to do without feeling like I'm going to faint. I eat actual food for breakfast now. I can change in front of the mirror without immediately wincing. One might even say I'm healthy. And I can thank you for that."

"Oh, Sev," you whispered.

"My point here is not to make this about me but to emphasize how much you have helped me. I wouldn't wish anyone to be in the position I used to be in; not everyone has the genetics to maintain such a figure naturally. I certainly didn't. I don't know if this is where your mind was taking you, but it would absolutely break my heart if you even thought about taking extreme measures to change yourself.

I'm sorry for failing to make you see yourself the way I do. I know I don't say it enough, but I love you. I love you for so many reasons. You're the most alluring woman imaginable, and not in spite of your insecurities. I find you incredibly...sexy. I crave you constantly, especially when you're not in my presence."

You couldn't find the words to describe the overwhelming love you were feeling at this moment.

"And should you need further convincing..." he continued, slowly making you lie down flat on the bed until he was on top of you, pulling himself closer into a kiss as he let out a moan against your lips.

You returned the kiss, wrapping your arms around his back.

He couldn't help but press his core against yours, thinking about all the times you laid nude for him, ready to take his aching cock. He wasn't sure if this was the right moment for that to happen again, but any doubts were cleared when you ordered him to "fuck you" right then and there.

"Are you sure, my love?" he asked.

"Yes, I want you now; I need you."

He pulled away from you to take off his nightshirt, revealing his bare torso, covered in scars and protruding out. He let you explore him with your hands as it was a sight left unseen most nights. You played with the peaks upon his chest, giggling as your fingers slid down to his stomach.

You sat up to help him remove your own top, leaving you in just your bra. His palms made their way to your waist before he settled there. "Mmmh, you're so gorgeous," he breathed as he placed light, feathery kisses all over your skin.

You whined at each brush of his lips against you, but he wanted to take his sweet time with you. When he was finally ready, his kisses made a trail down, and he slowly pulled off your bottoms along with your panties. You twitched at the sudden change in temperature but spread your legs widely for him.

He inhaled deeply as he took in your scent before placing the last kisses over your center. As talented as he was with his tongue, you didn't want that tonight.

"No, Sev. I want you to take me. Please," you whimpered.

He obeyed you and didn't hesitate to remove the remaining pieces of clothing on his body. As his cock sprang out of his underwear, you unclasped your bra, finally leaving the both of you completely stripped and vulnerable.

He took his length in his hand, placing it on your clit and gliding it through your lips until it reached your entrance. It slid in with such ease, and he groaned as he started to slowly pump in and out.

"I love—fuck—I love you so much!" he screamed. "You are absolutely—ugh—beautiful, stunning, ravishing."

"Fuck, Sev, I love you, too—ah!"

You dug your fingers into his back and wrapped your legs around him as he pulled closer to you, leaving barely any space between you two. You wanted to express how gorgeous he was when he looked at you with his glittering eyes, the strands of his hair brushing against your face when he was this close to you, your foggy brain couldn't think of any words to fully express your attraction to the man you loved most.

Though you wanted this moment to last, neither of you could hold back anymore. Your back arched, and his thrusts became messy as his seed spilled inside your tightening walls.

Unable to support himself any further, he pulled out and dropped right next to you as he lazily kept an arm over your stomach.

When you finally caught your breaths, he pulled you in closer to tightly wrap his arms around you and whispered a final "I love you" before blissfully drifting off to sleep.

#hope you like it 👉🏼👈🏼#snape #snape x reader #snape x y/n #snape x you #snape smut #snape fanfiction #snape fic #severus snape #severus snape x reader #severus snape x y/n #severus snape x you #severus snape smut #severus snape fanfiction #severus snape fic

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damiansgoodgirll · 2 months

Note

Can I request a Reader is insecure about her body so Damian shows her how much he loves her? (Reader is a curvy girl)

damian priest x reader

‼️reader being self conscious and insecure, a little angst, fluff in the end

so precious

it was one of those nights.

where damian was training and you were home alone waiting for him. you loved waiting for him. maybe cooking a nice and delicious dinner for you and him and watching something on netflix. that was your perfect typical night.

except tonight you weren’t in the mood for cooking. or watching netflix. or doing anything.

you just wanted to lay in bed and stare at the ceiling. instead you were scrolling through instagram and watching what your friends were doing. but your eyes got lost in damian’s ig stories where he posted a few selfies with some other wrestlers.

you knew they were just friends even if you saw how they looked at him. and the way they looked at you. they were jealous and you knew they had a crush on damian too.

but seeing him posting those selfies made you upset. why wasn’t he posting pictures with you? he never shared a post with you in it. his fans didn’t even know that he had a girlfriend. was he embarrassed? was he embarrassed that someone like him was with someone like you?

a million thoughts started running into your mind that you didn’t even hear the front door opening and a voice calling your name.

“oh here you are…” damian said smiling when he saw you laying on the bed.

“hey…i didn’t even hear you…” you whispered.

he immediately knew something was wrong. the way you didn’t even smiled back. the way you didn’t asked him for a hug and a kiss like you always did.

“is everything okay amor?” he carefully asked sitting next to you.

“yes why?” you lied. and of course, he could tell that you were lying.

“try again…”

“what you mean?” you asked him a little confused.

“are you okay? is everything okay?” he asked again taking your hand into his own.

“yes…”

“you’re lying to me amor…” he whispered.

“it’s just…” you knew he wouldn’t understand. someone so handsome and hot like him wouldn’t understand what you were feeling “are you embarrassed?”

“about what?”

“about me damian” you said back maybe too harshly.

“what? no, why would you think that?” he was a little shocked.

“you don’t want us to go out in public together, you don’t post pictures of us together…hell, your friends don’t even know about my existence while all of my friends and family know about you! how do you think it makes me feel?” you didn’t want to cry but you couldn’t help it “it feels like you’re embarrassed to be seen with me…”

“what? mi vida no, why do you think that?” damian’s heart was hurting for what you just said “you said you wanted to keep it private and so we did…but i’m not ashamed of you, i love you so much y/n and you have no idea…”

“private doesn’t mean hidden damian…you never invite your friends over when i’m here, you never go out in public with me, it’s like i’m your secret and i don’t wanna feel like that…are you ashamed of me? because of what i look like?”

damian knew he fucked up something if those were your thoughts. he loved you more than anything and he thought he was good at showing it to you but apparently he wasn’t.

“look like what? amor, you are the most beautiful person ive ever met…” he said.

“but i’m not like them…you are not ashamed of posting pictures with them…”

“like them?” he wasn’t understanding.

“the other wrestlers…they are tall and skinny and thick at the same time and i know you like that…so why are you with me?” tears well falling from your eyes.

“no no no no baby, you’re talking nonsense. stop it please…” he was hurting for your words because to him, you were everything “i love you…i love you, i love your body, i love your face, your eyes, your lips, i love your heart, your kind heart and i love the way you make me feel” he stood up, taking you with him and placing you in front of the mirror “look at yourself baby…do you see what i see?”

“i see back fat, arm fat, rolls, double chin…i see how bad my face looks without makeup up, i see my flat ass and my big thighs…that’s what i see damian” you said.

“amor…i wish i could give you my eyes so you could see yourself the way i see you” he softly kissed your neck “te amo” he whispered “you mean so much to me and if you want me to post pictures of you, i’ll do it, i want the whole world to see how beautiful you are…i want the whole world to know how lucky i am to have the most beautiful person right by my side…”

“but why can’t i see those things?” you broke down, crying in damian’s arms.

he always knew you've been self conscious and he wanted to take all your fears and pain away but he knew he couldn’t.

“come here…” he slowly walked you to the bed “lay down…”

“what?” you whispered.

“trust me…” and so you did as he told you because you trusted him.

he slowly got on top of you. his hands reaching for your t-shirt.

“what are you doing?” you almost panicked when you felt his hands trying to remove your shirt.

“showing you how much i love you and your body mi amor…”

and so you let him, because you trust him.

you were left in your shorts while being half naked in front of him wasn’t helping your situation. there wasn’t anything sexual in what he was doing, kissing you from your jaw to your breast, from your chest to your soft belly “i love all of this y/n…i love your body because it keeps you healthy and alive…this is what matters to me” he continued kissing every part, every inch of your skin “and i’ll stay awake all night long to prove you that”

and so he did.

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schrodinger-swriter · 3 months

Note

If you are still doing the fluff alphabet, could you do A B C E G J and K for Alastor?

A, B, C, E, G, J and K for Alastor

I'm still doing this alphabet! I'm unsure of how long I'll be doing it for, but I'll probably cut it when most of the character's have a good chunk of the alphabet done... or when people understandably lose interest. Which ever happens first!

Apologies if I seem a little off today in my writing, that horrid time of the month is approaching and it's throwing me off. I hope you enjoy, Anon!

ATTRACTION:

Now this one is interesting... see I know full well Alastor is aro, or at least somewhere on the spectrum. I'm just unsure of where he lies, if it was ever stated he was totally aromantic or something else. Personally I write him as demiromantic, or perhaps even greyromantic? We also need to take into account on if he's attracted to your romantically or for other reasons. He would probably like to spend his days with someone who keeps him on his toes, at least a fair amount. It keeps things interesting, and unless he has a reason to, he won't stick around if things get dull.

BONDING:

Alastor seems like the type to listen to music while sipping a glass of wine, or some other alcohol. Complete with sitting in front of a fireplace or some other piece that ties the aesthetic together. Reading, too probably. You're more than welcome to come and join him for some quiet time. I enjoy the thought that Alastor spends his time like this when he's not actively doing his job at the hotel or trying to network or build his power.

CUDDLING:

As most sinners are, he's very warm! Very skinny, though. Boney, even. Cuddling is rare, though, because he doesn't enjoy physical touch all the much outside of some occasion. He definitely tolerates your touch better than other's, but it's better to initiate cuddling when the mood is right. He may not initiate it often, however. Cuddling is exclusively done behind closed doors, he prefers his privacy.

EMOTION:

He shows just enough emotion where it's needed. Appearing happy with you and perhaps laughing if something funny has happened, or getting angry about something. He's not totally emotionless, and some of his true feelings do still shine through. But it's hard to tell where that starts, he's good at deceiving those around him into thinking whatever he wants them to think. He reacts and emotes with you, but he's not wearing his heart on his sleeve. In regards to romantic feelings, he does treat you more.. how does one word it..? How he behaves with Rosie, but more... casual and open.

GIFT GIVING:

Oddly enough, Alastor gives gifts fairly regularly. It won't be everyday, but you can bet that you'll always have a new bouquet of flowers by the time the previous ones had begun to die and wilt. Typically small things like that.

If you give Alastor anything, he will politely accept it. Maybe if you go into his room or into his radio tower, you'll find the gifts you've given him. It's a sweet thought, I think, he'd be ready to discard of anything he truly didn't want or need but here he is keeping the things you've given him, regardless of need.

JEALOUSY:

He conceals his jealousy fairly well, often outwardly portraying it by reminding you why you two are together. Re-enforcing the idea that you two are tied together. Be it literally or not.

He easily puts the other person into the ground, once more.. be it literally or otherwise... though that's assuming the other person doesn't turn tail and run when they realize you and the radio demon are an item. Though, that's also assuming they even know who he is..

He's confident that you won't do anything stupid or leave him.

KISSES:

He typically kisses you on the back of your hands and on your cheek. He does a little bow... dip.. when he takes your hand to place a kiss on the back of it. They're usually quick and fleeting.

Receiving he also enjoys cheek kisses. You guys don't do mouth kisses, tongue or not.. that often.. if ever. No harm there, besides kissing someone who's constantly smiling seems like it would be a little awkward.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #alastor x reader #alastor x reader headcanons #alastor x you #alastor imagine #radio demon x you #radio demon x reader

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gogobootz1 · 4 months

Text

Chance Encounters of the Elite Kind

Coriolanus Snow x Reader (what can I say? this is where we're at)

Summary: Finally, at one of countless stuffy parties, Coriolanus finds something (someone) interesting.

“Overwhelmed?”

His head snaps to a leather chair, where you already sit, book in hand. He didn’t think anyone else would be in the library.

Not one to be caught in a vulnerable position, he snaps back, “Annoyed, actually.”

“Oh?” You respond in the same tone as before, not looking especially surprised or impressed. Your expression surprised him since he’s been practically drowning in newfound admiration. He's gotten a lot of the starry-eyed look ever since he’s been climbing through the social ranks.

“Half the people here can’t hold an intelligent conversation,” he shrugs. You snicker, and he feels an odd sense of pride grow at making a beautiful stranger laugh.

“You needed a break, then?” You ask, a small smile now painting your face.

“I thought the books would be better company,” he replies slyly, a smirk starting to rise on the edges of his mouth.

“Well, that’s your problem Mr. Snow,” you say, without malice. His smirk is goes as fast as it came.

“Excuse me?” He doesn’t like the fact that you know him when he doesn’t know you, and he especially doesn’t like where this conversation is going.

“You think you’re better than everyone,” you assert, and he’s surprised at your neutral tone. His eyes narrow in anticipation of what you’ll say next. “The problem is, you’re right.”

He can’t help the way his eyes widen at your statement. It was entirely the opposite of the judgment he’d been expecting to spew from your painted-red lips.

You roll your eyes at his reaction, and before he can even get a word in, you start again, “It’s not exciting to be so far ahead when they can’t hardly keep up. So, the game loses its charm.” You shrug and begin to stand, setting the book on the table beside you.

“The game?” His eyes bear into yours.

“Yes,” you emphasize like he was foolish to ask such a question. “Life. The game of social checkers that every person here is desperately trying to win.” You shake your head, a foul expression on your face as you condemn the guests of this party.

He’s never heard someone express such a similar outlook to his own. In the few minutes you’ve spoken, he’s become fascinated. As he watches you walk to the door, he comes to the conclusion that you also think these people are below you.

You’re about to leave before his words stop you, “Yet you’ll go join them?” You cast a scolding look over your shoulder.

“No, I’ll return to my rooms,” you say before exiting. “I prefer chess,” the words are for him, although your back is turned.

He tracks your movements from the doorway of the impressive library. You navigate the hallway then turn a corner like you’ve been doing it your whole life. Probably because you have.

He could kick himself. The hosts of this party don’t go out terribly often because they don’t have to. Arguably the oldest, wealthiest, and most well-respected of the elite Capitol families, they only throw parties on occasion to remind everyone of their superiority. And they keep their daughter under lock and key.

Suddenly, he has a new goal to add to his list.

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

To the good people of Tumblr- thank you and I'm sorry. I am not immune to skinny blonde men. It's a disease.

#coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #tbosas #hunger games fanfiction

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homunculus-argument · 6 months

Note

Why do you constantly describe yourself like you’re the grossest, weirdest looking human being on the planet?

You’re always (very nonchalantly) talking about how ugly you are and… I’ve never seen your face ofc but I highly doubt you’re as weird looking as you think you are. I’m a bit concerned for you.

When my self-esteem was at its lowest I was CONVINCED that I looked absolutely awful. I felt that my features were weird and uneven. That I looked like someone who can’t draw tried to draw a person rather than an actual person. But now that I’ve gotten older and had therapy and my self-esteem isn’t so low anymore, I realize that I look normal. Perfectly normal. I may not be the most attractive person but I’m definitely not ugly and my face definitely isn’t mangled and gross. It’s just a regular face. But a few years ago, I absolutely swore that it wasn’t. It’s as if my mental state had been warping my vision.

So when you constantly talk about how ugly you are I can’t help but feel a little skeptical. You’re a human being, not a goblin. But you definitely describe yourself as if you look like a goblin. I’m willing to bet that you don’t.

I'm actually much happier now with how I look than I was when I was younger and tried so hard to be pretty. I remember being 21 and legit crying because I was so convinced that I'm too old to find anyone again and too ugly that anyone would settle for me. When I was in my Repression Phase, I could not stand wearing jeans because those are Men's Clothes and I was so convinced that I have to perform some sort of absolute over-the-top hyperfeminine presentation to be acceptable. I'm afab and looked up trans womens' passing advice because I was so sure that I'm not feminine enough.

I don't look anything like that these days, and I don't feel like that either. My life is completely different, I have friends who adore me and a partner who loves me, and I'm fine with the way I look. Over the past year I went from wearing understated grey sweaters and the plainest clothes possible into wearing skinny jeans, dyed hair and getting three facial piercings because I thought it would just be insanely funny to have a full-blown midlife crisis emo phase about turning 30. I look cringe on purpose for fun.

There's a world of difference between thinking "I am an ugly and wretched little creature and there's nothing I can do to make it stop", and "I am an ugly and wretched little creature and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

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two-red-lungs · 1 year

Text

I Can’t Hardly Stand It

BFF!Eddie/Fem!Reader NSFW

Summary: College guys, despite your best attempts, have been leaving you high and dry and desperate in the bedroom. Now, with you back in Hawkins for winter break? Let’s just say your six-foot-something best friend is looking like a real good way to relieve some of that long-standing sexual tension.

That is, if you don’t ruin your friendship in the process.

Word Count: 5.5k

How do you ask a friend to be more than a friend? To lift a foot and place it, however tentative and skittish over the well-established boundary? To enter into a realm of unknown, unfamiliar feelings that, in all likelihood, could destroy that friendship? Crumble it to dust? How the hell does one do that, exactly?

It was a question you had been turning over and over in your head for days, hoping that contemplating it enough would bring you a sudden enlightened answer. But nope. It was still the same agonizing question. You thought it, and in your mind you saw Eddie’s eyes. Big, brown, wet and wide.

How do you ask your friend to fuck you?

When the idea first came to mind you discarded it like a deer stumbling away from a car on a highway. The thought was obscene. Way outta line. You and Eds… you went back years. Maybe a decade at this point. You and him in fifth grade, goofin’ it up out on the playground in the Indiana winter cold, play-fighting with sticks as swords. And now, him calling you once or twice a month: the connection long and expensive and only affordable if all you said was hi, how are you, that’s great, talk to you later. But NYU was your dream school. He knew that. He’d encouraged you to take the scholarship, to get the fuck out of the sleepy town that too often trapped people in little lives that went nowhere.

And you did. You did it. Packed your shit and left, moved into a freshman dorm buzzing with excitement and academia and dirty laundry. It was fun. New York was big and loud and alive and full of cute boys to meet. Oh, meet them you did. Date after date, smiling faces, clumsy, heated kisses.

That’s where the problem really was, see.

You wanted it. The big sin. La petite mort. And without fucking fail, every single skinny-legged eighteen-nineteen-twenty year old you collapsed into bed with was baaaaad. Like, painfully, stupidly, unbelievably bad. Their breath stank or they sweat too much or they popped off like bottle rockets against your bare thigh after just a minute or two of naked squirming and sloppy makeouts. And that left you alone, buzzing with a deep, red hunger. Unfulfilled, day after day. Month after month. It made you realize you needed something more. Someone you could talk to, tell what to do, share information and words with without it feeling awkward or dictatorial or rude. Someone who wasn’t, by and large, a stranger.

Your mind went to one person and now you just couldn’t fucking shake the idea. Kept seeing it in your head. Kept thinking what if.

The plane from JFK landed back in Indianapolis for winter break. Snow was high outside, brilliant diamond-white against cerulean sky, icicles trimming the roof over the pick-up zone in great crystal stalactites. Your breath was fog in the air. And, right on time, god bless him, the familiar brown-and-tan Chevy Nomad van came rolling up with tire chains that growled against the heavy ice.

Your heart jumped directly from your chest into your mouth. Eddie rolled down the passenger window.

“Lookin’ to hitchhike, hot stuff?” He was grinning ear-to-ear, brown eyes crinkling. Ever the comedian. When you muddled through the dirty snow and tugged on the locked handle a few times, that grin got bigger. “Gas, grass, or ass. Can’t let you ride for free.”

“You let me outta the cold right now, Munson, or I’ll have to resort to violence.”

“Oooh, scary. Fine. Get in here.”

He’d driven three hours out to get you, through a small snowstorm and over miles of ice, and three hours back. Not a single complaint. Not a peep. No, instead, Eddie was all sunshine smiles and wicked, warm cackles, asking about your adventures in the city and pulling animated reactions. His rings winked in the cold winter light slanting through the van’s dirty windshield, and his hair was just slightly longer (and drier) than when you’d left four months ago. But he was the same old Eddie, really. Taller than you by a million miles. Soft, broad lips with a sprinkle of new-growing mustache. Bitten fingernails, long eyelashes. A voice like tire rubber and tobacco smoke, which he reeked of.

Funny. It was easy to downplay how much you missed him when you were sequestered in the warrenous dorms at NYU. Now, with him a foot away, watching his veiny hands tap tap tap on the wheel to the rhythm of ‘Rattlehead’? There was heat in your bones. Lapping across your skin, over your cheeks when you glanced down at his narrow thighs, the way they flexed when he accelerated. You hadn’t considered the what if throughout the years of being friends with him. Now it wouldn’t leave your brain. Now that what if brought new thoughts. New need-soaked mental imagery.

Christ, you were hopeless. A single thought about Eddie’s legs flitted through your mind and it brought that roaring wall of unfulfilled heat back with a vengeance. You needed a drink, or several. Or maybe a mallet to the head.

When the Hawkins town sign blew past on the frosted asphalt road to town and Eddie offered you a beer, you leapt at the chance. Especially when he’d enthused about his uncle already booking it to his shift at the plant by now. It wasn’t until you were stomping snow off your boots on his stoop in the late afternoon sun, walking into his shared trailer and getting hit by that unequivocally Eddie smell that you realized the error of your ways. Maybe, just maybe, hanging out alone with the guy you’d been sexually fixating on for weeks in the place you imagined him in the most at night, a hand between your thighs in the dark, wasn’t a good idea.

Eddie popped the top off a heineken in the narrow kitchen and handed it to you. His fingers were icy from the winter chill, smooth against yours. You hid the way your hand jerked a bit by bringing the drink up to your mouth, not even bothering to set down your carry-on before taking a hefty pull.

“Two more months and I can buy these babies on my own. Twenty-one, here I come.” He boasted warmly. His mane of hair shimmied and shook as he fought with the cap on his own bottle: it popped off, plinking against the cabinet before escaping to the linoleum ground, and he scurried after it. You got a long lecherous view of his broad, lithely muscled back under his tight Megadeth shirt before he stood up again, blowing hair away from his mouth. “Won’t even need to use the shitty fake ID ol’ Ricky had made for me.”

“It is pretty crappy.” You agreed. Your mouth was dry. God, you two were so alone right now.

“Yeah. I’m, like, genuinely surprised nobody’s called me on it yet.”

“Is Charles still manning the gas station? That guy’s ancient. He probably doesn’t have the energy to call the cops on you when you’re buying a six-pack.”

Eddie snickered and fuck, it was like liquid sunlight, all soft and good. Another thing you hadn’t realized you’d missed, its effects diminished over the phone. “That’s totally it. Hadn’t even crossed my mind.” He leaned on the counter and sipped his beer, looking down at you and tilting his head to the side. His hair followed like water. “Damn. I kinda missed you, Agatha Christie.”

You swallowed, hard. It was difficult to be under his gaze, now. Knowing the fantasies you’d had. Those brown eyes dredged up every sweaty, slick-fingered moment of imagination between your sheets. “You expect me to be surprised by that?” You replied with a plastered-on smile. “The six-hour commute and free beer kind of gave it away.”

He thunked a hand against his chest. “Foiled again. You see right through me. C’mon.” His beer bottle clinked on the fridge as he passed you, swaggering to him room like he was king of the world. “I got a new strain shipment and a ‘lil freebee along with it. You’re gonna dig it, for sure.” He turned around in his bedroom doorway with dramatic fury, a hand clutching each side. “Two words: Purple haze.”

“Lead the way, king ditchweed.”

“It’s not ditchweed!”

It wasn’t ditchweed. It was, in fact, a nice, smooth smoke. That’s what you elected to focus on, passing the blunt between you and Eddie on his bed, the window cracked just enough to circulate the air but not enough to turn his cramped, messy room into a freezer.

He was leaned up against the headboard, all relaxed, that smile-crinkle under his eyes near-permanent. Eddie took the blunt from you and took a hit, exhaling through his nose: vapors curled up the sides of it and into his curtain of dark hair.

You remembered your fantasy from a week ago, about the ball of that thick nose pressed hard against your clit while his broad, flat tongue punched deep into your— you cleared your throat and shifted around, working sensation back into your buzzing cross-faded limbs.

Well, the sun's gone down, and you're uptown. And you're just out runnin' around: I can't hardly stand it, you're troublin' me! Lux Interior was whining, Elvis-esque, on the record lazily spinning on Eddie’s player. “Okay.” You conceded. “This is good.”

“The song, or the weed?” He brought up a sock-clad foot to deflect your attempt at hitting him, laughing. “What? New York mighta changed your taste in music. Mighta made you forget how good the Cramps were, and shit.”

“You know I was talking about the weed, dummy.” Soft, sentimental affection in your voice was as unmistakable as anything. You just couldn’t help it. Eddie smiled, pressing his lips together and looking away: your eyes drifted to the tendons in his long neck. Beautiful. You wondered how they’d feel under your tongue.

“So. Tell me about the city boys.” He said after a few moments of comfortable silence. When you groaned and put your face in your hands he chortled. “Seriously! Are they cool? Do they do slam poetry? I bet they’ve got you just hooked, huh. Ridin’ the subway and shit.”

“We don’t have to talk about boys, Eds. I can’t imagine that’s entertaining for you.”

The metalhead shrugged and took another drag. “Can you blame me for wanting to keep tabs on your bodice-ripping paperback escapades?” He cupped his face, mimicking a cherub. “That’s just how good of a friend I am.”

“Alright, alright! You ham.” You turned that what if over again in your mind. “It’s been. Weird. I’ve met a lot of guys, sure, but. I dunno. They’re not… great?”

“Define not-great. Do I need to kick someone’s ass?”

“How honest do you want me to be?”

“Uhh, mega-honest. Obviously.”

“Eddie, they’re shit in bed.”

Eddie exploded into a cacophony of coughs, thumping his chest and bending away from the headboard. Only when he was done, eyes watering, did he speak, giving a disbelieving shake of his head. “Wow, that was… honest.”

“Hey, you asked.” The ragged hem of your comfy travel shirt was looking really interesting right now. You chose to focus on it. “I’ve, uh. Been with a couple guys, now, and each time, they’re just…” You sucked on your teeth, trying to phrase it tactfully. “Selfish. Like I’m not even there. Like they don’t care at all about me. And I’m half the fucking equation in that— that goddamn horizontal tango, you know?”

“That sounds pretty frustrating.” Eddie, for once in his life, sounded serious. His voice was soft, like he cared.

“Trust me, it is. I thought about calling it quits a couple of times, y’know? But I’m human! I got… wants. And needs, and stuff.” The silence after your words was deafening, and the record switched softly-playing tracks. The what if came back. And fuck it, you were a little high and a little tipsy and hey, if bringing this up ruined everything, you’d be on a plane to New York in a few days anyway. “You know how you used to, like… joke? When we were high? That it was just you and me, whining about being lonely, and we should just.” You struggled. “Help each other out. Let off steam.”

Eddie stared. And stared. His eyebrows lifted. For a moment you were worried he would be frozen for eternity. “Uh. Okay. I, hah.” A laugh of disbelief jumped out. He pinched his nose and shook his head. “Okay, uh. If I’m, uhh… misinterpreting this, feel free to, like, punch me. Just… full force. You, uh…” God, how many interjections could this man use? “You wanna. Have sex with me?”

“It’s so weird, I know.” Your words were a blurting, flushed, panicked tumble. You hadn’t really registered it until he said it out loud. “It’s so totally weird, and I shouldn’t have said anything, seriously, just forget it—”

“No, no.” He wetted his lips nervously, that pink tongue darting out. Eddie’s eyes were wide. “No, uh. It’s— I get it. We all, like. Get a little backed up sometimes, right? Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“God, you did not just say backed up—”

“You know what I mean!” He ran a hand down his pink-flushed face, hunched forward and cross-legged, close enough to touch. Close enough to feel his body heat. “Jesus. Jesus shitfuck.”

“Eds, let’s just pretend I didn’t say—”

“We could. We could do it.” He interjected. That tongue between his lips again, trapped, a little slice of wet, shining pink. “Um. I, uh. If it’s something you wanted to do.”

Your stupid betrayer heart was drumming double time, making your palms clammy and face red. “You don’t have to say yes because of me.”

“Hey. You’re a chick, and I’m a dude, and that’s like, basic biology 101 so… I wanna.” His gaze, skittish, like he was a timid fawn, met yours for a second and it was like steel against flintstone. It sent a zing up your spine. “It’d just be like… helpin’ each other out, and shit, right?”

“Yeah.” God, your mouth was dry. You hadn’t felt like this, shaking like a virgin, since you were sixteen. You’d laid yourself emotionally bare in front of him. Told him you needed to be touched. Loved. And he’d said yes. “Just helping.”

A beat of silence. Then another. Then another. Eddie leaned forward and then you were kissing.

It was a wet, searing thing. Like a current of electricity was passing between you, hot and bright and so, so unlike anything you’d felt at fucking NYU. He grunted against your mouth, leaning forward into you. Then there was a hand on your knee and god, fuck, fuck your life, that wasn’t supposed to feel good. That wasn’t supposed to feel like your skin was lighting up gold under his palm, and yet here you were. Illuminated by his touch like a celibate.

“You gotta,” Eddie spoke in breaths, crowding you against the thin wall of the trailer, heat bleeding from his chest through his shirt, “tell me what you need, ‘kay? Promise?”

“More.” You replied immediately. You grabbed at him on instinct, getting a fistful of his shirt, tugging it up, up over his head: he moved with you immediately, pulling it off like it offended him, and oh. His nipples were dusky-dark pink, his pectorals small hills. The skullish demon head over his heart was staring you down.

Eddie pressed a sloppy kiss with searing lips to your upper cheek, eyes centimeters from yours. Looking at you all gentle and needy. “Can I take your shirt off? Please, I wanna—” He swallowed and his adam’s apple bobbed. “Wanna see you.”

“Yeah.” Your voice trembled like an autumn leaf. “You can see me, Eds.”

His hands were so broad and firm. They rolled your shirt up over your head: Eddie hissed through his teeth. “God, fuck. Fuck me, man. Look at you.” That dark brown gaze was locked on your tits, the way your bra cupped them together. “Those New Yorkers have no idea what they’re missing, man.”

“Eddie.” You said softly. His gaze snapped back up to you, framed by dark curls of hair. “Touch me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can, uh. I can do that.” His lips parted as he touched you, hot palms traveling up your ribs, over your shoulders. He dipped his head, planting kiss to your collarbones: it was like you’d been shot, a slow, scalding heat spreading from that point. Eddie held one of your hips and slowly, ever so slowly, eased you onto your back. You knew he could see your jackrabbit heart racing in the veins on your neck, see the way your shallow breaths were so fucking fast.

When you pawed between you two, sticking an arm against his burning-hot stomach to fumble with the fly of his jeans, he made a choked noise and grabbed your wrist. Eddie was breathing heavily against your face, holding himself over you with one arm braced by your head. “Wait, wait.” He took a deep breath. Hairs tickled your face. “Uh, just. Just wait.”

“I wanna touch to you too, Eds.”

He looked like the words falling from your lips were as good as head. “Jesus— not yet. Not— I don’t wanna end this too fast, and if you keep, haah—” another expletive when you pressed fingers blindly to his fly, down against his dick, “— doing that, that’s where we’re gonna end up.”

With a hum of frustration at being denied, you tilted your chin up in a demand for another kiss: he conceded without a fight, saliva-slick lips heady and addictive. You felt like you could kiss him forever, like this: the curtains drawn, early dusk darkening the room, his skin against yours sending frissons from your head to your toes. You pawed like an animal. Fingers clutching his back, feeling his shoulder blades move under his skin, his ribs expand and contract.

When you brought a thigh out, knee bending to hook a leg around his narrow hips, he seemed to make up his mind. “Fuck, okay.” He broke the kiss again. “D’ya think— can I take your pants off?”

“Yeah. Yeah, god, Eddie, please.”

Like it was a goddamn race Eddie had your buttons undone and you were helping him shuffle your pants down and throwing them to the floor. He made another noise in the back of his throat and rested himself at your side, up on one elbow. Eddie put a hand on your sternum and slowly, agonizingly slowly, dragged it down. His face turned up to you every once in a while: checking in. Making sure you were still here with him. His fingers caught on the hem of your underwear for a second and you sucked in a breath, but he kept going.

Feather-light pads landed on the lips of your pussy over your underwear. So light you could barely feel it. They traced up and down in slow, careful circles. Eddie looked almost hypnotized by the fact that he was even touching you: he watched his own hand like it was a magic show.

“Tease.” You huffed out, bucking up slightly against his fingers.

That crooked smile returned. “Nah.” He looked at you with affection. “Just tryin’ to make it good.” Those finger pads went up, up, up. Eddie tracked your expression, lips parting gently when your eyes bulged because oh, yep, that was your clit he’d caught for a second. He focused in on that little stiffening nub, snug under damp fabric, and the muscles in your stomach curled. “Ohhh, fuck. You like that, huh? Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You barely eked it out. “Feels nice.”

“Bet nobody gave her any attention at your college, huh?” His words hit you like thunderbolts, and you swore you felt yourself clench around nothing. Eddie’s tongue was trapped between his teeth again. He thumbed your clit round and round in circles.

“Eds.” Your voice was a warning, desperate though it was. “More, c’mon.”

“Tell me what you need.” Maybe with someone else the words would have come out commanding, domineering. But Eddie was looking down at you with those big wet eyes like you’d hung the moon, like he’d do anything to please you, lips parted all rosebud-soft.

“Get inside me. Please. Just— your fingers, put them in, please.”

Still laid out long beside you, his fingers crept underneath the hem of your underwear, rasping against your trimmed bush as he slowly pulled the fabric down, down, down, till it pooled around your knees. “Fuck.” He said again, intelligently. “Fuck. Fuck. Can’t believe you’re letting me do this.” A finger ran down the parting line of your folds as he spoke and you jerked like a woman possessed. “Can’t believe you’re letting me touch you, god.”

His finger hooked at your soft, sopping, willing entrance. “Wait.” You blurted. His veiny hand froze. “Two. Two, uh, fingers, Eds.”

“Okay, yeah. Okay.” His voice shook. And then those long, calloused, beautiful fucking fingers were delving into your flesh, just thick enough for a little stretch, a little delicious addictive burn: if you weren’t so hyper turned-on by the sight you’d be embarrassed about how absolutely sopping you were.

Your walls fluttered around his fingers and he looked like he’d died and gone to heaven. “So warm.” Was all he got out unevenly. There was no warning before he was slowly and rhythmically fucking you with his fingers, the slick squelch loud as thunder. The sight of his broad hand disappearing between your gently parted thighs was... addictive. You held his forearm tight as he fingered you, your grip moving with each slow thrust.

This was fantasy. This was perfect fucking gratification. Sweating nearly-naked on his messy duvet, surrounded by his quintessential smell, Eddie inches away from you all laid out with a tent in his jeans so hard it looked like it hurt. This was just like your daydreams. Better, even.

You let your head fall to the side, where he was laid out all long next to you. It rested against his chest. You could feel the hum of his hummingbird heart behind the flesh and bone. “Eddie...” the word was a breathy sigh, but it earned him dropping his head over yours, pressing a wild, wet kiss to the crown of your head, leaving his mouth there. He groaned into your hair when you squirmed, thighs shifting, clenching around his fingers.

“Shit— sorry, hold on, thing is fuckin— killin’ me, hurts so bad.” He muttered hoarsely, pulling fingers from your heat to fumble with his fly. His digits were too slick to get a grip on the zipper and oh man if that didn’t do something for you. You reached across your stomach without a second thought and pulled it open, and hello.

Eddie was so hard it looked like it ached. The head of this fat cock peeked out from the top of his briefs, so red it was nearly purple. It was shiny, smeared with drooling precum that slicked up the turtleneck skin around it.

You thumbed the shaft over the fabric. Eddie sounded like he’d been socked in the gut. “Ohhhhkay.” He wheezed out. You crept upwards, dragging down his underwear and popping his bobbing cock out. It twitched, kissing his hair-dusted abdomen for a moment. God. You’d never wanted anything in your mouth so badly. You bet he tasted good: like salt and skin and Eddie.

The noises he made when you cupped him, running a loose grip up and down his shaft in lazy pumps, should have been illegal. They made the soft, wanton and slick heat between your legs feel like a bonfire, like an ancient calling demanding you do what humans had been doing for centuries before you.

You wanted to swallow him to the base. Wanted to stay there for eternity, feeling him throb under your fingers and feeling his fingers in you. But poor Eds was on a timer. And you wanted as much as you could get.

“Eds...” You trailed off, looking at him, how he held himself coiled-up tight while you touched his dick, like he was focusing so hard on not cumming. His wide eyes glittered in the low light. You kissed him again: quick and messy. “Can we...”

“Yeah.” His reply came out as a squeak and he cleared his throat. “Yeah. Please.”

“We need a condom.”

“Right.”

He was off the bed like a shot, shaking the mattress, flinging open bedside table drawers like a mob croney coming to collect debt money. He rifled through their contents with extreme (almost desperate) prejudice. The prize was found: a shiny gold-foil-wrapped Trojan. Seeing him stand at the foot of the bed, framed between your knees in front of you, dick twitching in the air and foil between his teeth? That was a sight that was going to be burned into your mind for the rest of your life.

Eddie tore open the condom with his teeth and spat out the corner. He fumbled to roll it on with shaking hands. “Shit.” He hissed, the condom springing off several times. It was like someone had set him to vibrate.

Your hand closed over his bigger one. Slowly, together, you got the condom on: shiny and off-white on his cock.

He was still huffing like a racehorse. You couldn’t blame him: your body was alight, all active like you’d run a marathon. You didn’t know what it was: it was never like this with other guys. Little touches didn’t set you on fire. Gentle, caring fingers didn’t make you gush.

With Eddie’s help you laid flat onto your back once more and eased your hips to the edge of the mattress. He stood between them, thighs pressed against mattress cover. His hands were warm on your thighs: kneading them, drifting up and down a few times while he looked down at you, his chest patchy with blush.

“You sure?” He asked. There was anxiety in his voice. This wasn’t just being handsy. This was all the way.

“Yeah. ‘M sure.” When he let his cock rest on your pelvis, hefty and scalding, you swallowed hard. “It’s you, Eds. I trust you.”

Eddie bit down on his lower lip, hard, and lined himself up with you. It was only when the head of his cock nudged your slick entrance and your pussy clenched rhythmically in reply, in excited hopefulness, that you realized how true that statement was.

That’s why this was taking you apart. Not because it was sex. Or good sex. Because it was Eddie.

He pushed into you slow with a hand clamped down on each thigh and it was like seeing god. The breach was fat and full, heat on heat, no resistance. You both made noises. He fit you like a goddamn glove.

Eddie swore, over and over, when he got up to the hilt. His eyes clenched shut, face screwed up, steeling himself against the overwhelming pleasure. And for you, that was agony.

“Eds, c’mon, please, please move.” You weren’t above begging.

“Fuuuuuck me, man.” He groaned out all high and breathless, and then he was clenching his teeth and snapping forward, hips bumping against you so hard it made the fucking bed sway. He fucked you like he was trying to keep you, like he was trying to make this the best you’d ever had: he even canted his hips up, hunting for that spot inside you that he’d read made girls go mad.

“So good, so wet, god, so good,” Eddie rambled like a lunatic, a drop of drool falling free from his red lips. “So fucking warm, huh, aren’t you? Yeah you are. So nice and warm, warm on my dick, fuck, love how fucking soaked you are.”

You were in heaven. No, somewhere better. Somewhere where sex wasn’t a sin and you were getting your guts rearranged by your best friend, the guy who knew you the best, who saw you, the real you. “Eddieeeee.” You almost couldn’t get it out, breath punched out of you so deliciously with each thrust. “My clit, Eds, touch it.”

He brought a hand to it instantly, fingers sliding through the wet where his cock spread you open and dragging it up in rough, wild circles around your clit. You could see all his dark-eyed focus was on you: fucking you, filling you, giving it to you exactly how you had needed it for so long. Taking care of you.

Fuck, that thought was gonna make you cum.

“More, please,” You begged, “so close, Eds, so—”

“God, fuck me man, you— you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to see you cum, oh my god.” Eddie spoke like he couldn’t stop himself, all disjointed and panting over the pornographic slap of his balls on your ass. “Wanted to see it for so long, please, please, lemme see it, lemme see you—”

His begging, his disclosure, his desperation— you went careening off the edge into the abyss while he rubbed frantically at your clit, and you swore your eyes rolled up into the back of your skull.

There it was. The thing you’d been craving, bone-deep, for months.

The perfect orgasm.

Drifting back to earth, you had a body made of melted butter. A body made of summer sun and amber. Pure contentment radiated through every single immaculate cell.

Eddie was still fucking you. Short, uneven thrusts, sweat beads rolling down his chest, long, wild hair sticking to his face. His brows were down in focus, lost in sensation. You lifted two shaking legs and wrapped them around his waist, locking him into your snug cunt. He looked up at you in hazy, pleasure-drunk shock, and then you squeezed down on him as hard as you could.

“Fuck!” Was all he barked out, and then he was doubling over, staggering forward against your hips, pelvis stuttering. Gripping your thighs like lifelines. He thrust once, twice, three times more, and then Eddie— your exhausted, beanstalk-tall, wild-child Eddie— collapsed on top of you, heavy as all hell. The crown of his head was right under your nose, and you could feel his ribs against yours.

He couldn’t see you right now. You let yourself smile fondly, satedly, into his hair.

Together you breathed raggedly, radiating body heat. The clock in the kitchen, past the ajar door, continued to tick. The silence was no longer charged: it was honest, relaxed. Fulfilled.

“You’re so heavy.” You said eventually.

“Thanks. I’ve been working out.” Eddie’s voice was muffled in your tits. After a time, though, he raised his head. Propped himself up a bit on his elbows over you. Spat hair out of his mouth. “So, uh.” His lips opened and closed like a fish, awkward and unsure. “Was that, um. Good for you, or...?”

“Of course it was good, Eddie. Obviously! Don’t ask stupid questions.” You replied with mock seriousness: an age-old bit you’d always done with him. A sign that hey, no camaraderie lost, right?

He played along, looking mock wounded. “Well, I didn’t want to assume. It’s not like it went on for an hour, or ended with a squirt, or—”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” You laughed. He was staring at you in that fond way again. The guitar pick on his necklace tickled your clavicle. “I mean... we have the rest of the night, right?”

He looked stunned. He blinked a few times. “I mean— yeah, like, if that’s something you want to—”

“I want to.”

Another blink. The tongue made its reappearance. “Okay. We can... okay. Yeah.” The slow grin began its climb onto his broad face. “We can totally do that. All-nighter.”

“Don’t get cocky.”

The Munson landline was a little ragged, but it worked. “Yeah, mom, I can’t wait to see you too.” You said into the phone tucked between your ear and bare shoulder as you leaned against the kitchenette counter, hand in a bag of chips. You watched Eddie fight a box of waffles for their delicious cargo and pop four into the toaster. “The snow’s just real bad right now. You know how it is. I’ll get in tomorrow, I swear.”

Eddie slowly shook his head, hands on his hips, hitting the disapproving church-mom pose. He mouthed for shame and wagged a finger. You threw a chip at him. It plunked ineffectually off his bare chest.

“Love your too, mom. Yeah, I’ll sleep warmly tonight. Bye.”

“Oh, you’ll be sleepin’ warm, alright.”

“I knew you were gonna say that!”

“How could you possibly know what I was gonna say?”

The two of you returned to amicability, trading jabs and scoffs and sparkling smiles: but in your mind, somewhere in the far back, you held on to what he’d divulged in the heat and fervor of the moment. That he’d wanted to see you cum. Wanted to see it for ages.

He’d thought about you. Like you’d thought about him. You tucked that away for later. Now, though? Now you were laughing your ass off while Eddie juggled burning-hot waffles with his bare hands before dumping them onto a plate and flapping his singed palms about like a bird.

So. How do you ask your friend to fuck you? Turns out, sometimes, you just ask.

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #my writing #if this has typos. no it doesnt. its simply so so late and i am so so sleeby

738 notes · View notes

irkimatsu · 1 month

Note

Can you do a husk x fem reader where she’s also a cat demon (no wings, just cat) yet she’s the epitome of “golden retriever” As if her personality was golden, she’s extroverted and caring and so so bubbly (even more so than Charlie). But then one night, crying is heard from her room and husk hears it and she’s insecure of her body because of how skinny she is?? She has curves yes but that doesn’t make her feel better at all and she’s always comparing herself to others and how she could be better!! It’s just overall angst with fluff please :( 🙏

(Live laugh love you sm !!)

Okay, so, first off, a confession - I am, uh. Not skinny. I am far from skinny, and not only that, I'm in the business of taking skinny characters and chunking them up. Have you seen some of my posts about Overlord Husk?

All that to say that I'm not used to writing skinny characters, and "skinny character insecure about their body" is an absolutely foreign concept to me. I tried my best, though, and I hope I hit the notes with this that you needed!

About 1.5 words. Primarily SFW but Husk gets a little handsy toward the end. One-sided Husk/Angel from Angel's side, but Angel's graceful about it, there's no ship bashing here, I still love Angel and he's still one of Husk's best friends.

---

“Husky!”

Husk has barely made it into the hotel lobby, and you’re already clinging to him, your tail wagging furiously.

The tail wagging is strange for your species; you’d reincarnated in hell as a gray tabby cat, a creature known for being moody, standoffish, even a little prissy. But that wasn’t who you were in life, and it’s not how you are in death, either. Husk realized it immediately upon meeting you, and at first he wasn’t a fan of your wild energy, but you managed to grow on the old man’s heart soon enough. He appreciated how young you could make him feel, and how much you reminded him that the best years of his life weren’t as far gone as he thought.

“Hey, hey!” he says, laughing, a far cry from the Husk who would have snapped at you to get off of him a few months ago. “I missed you too, babe!” He gently hugs you back, giving you a couple pats on the back before stepping away. At first you would have been hurt by the lack of enthusiasm, but now you realize that he’s simply not comfortable with too much PDA. He’s perfectly affectionate behind closed doors, and that’s what really matters.

“Damn, I need to find someone who pounces me like that when I get home!” Angel says with a laugh. Shopping bags dangle from all four of his arms, and he’s wearing a pair of sunglasses you don’t think you’ve seen on him before.

“Did you guys enjoy your boys’ day out?” you ask.

“Sure did!” Husk says as he holds up his own, much smaller shopping bag. “Had as much fun as you can when you’re clothes shopping with Angel for three hours, anyway.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t like me showing off outfits for ya,” Angel teases as he sways his hips. “I know you were staring at my ass in every pair of shorts I tried on.”

“What ass?” Husk shoots back with a smile. “Don’t lie to me, you’re flat as the fuckin’ bartop.”

“Hm? I’m sorry, and whose flat ass has been on the cover of every adult magazine in hell, again?” Angel says, swaying his hips further.

“Hey, if the people want flat twinks, then good for them.” Husk returns his attention to you, and sticks his hand in the paper shopping bag. “That shop was real nice, though. I found a couple things for myself, and got you a little somethin’, too.” He digs around for a bit, before pulling out a small jewelry box and handing it to you. “Here. For my golden girl.”

You open the box and gasp at the sight of a golden choker encrusted with diamonds. “Husk! How much was this?!”

“Enough to be worth it,” is all the information he’ll give. “Mind if I put it on you?”

“Go ahead!”

He takes the box back and walks behind you. His claws graze your skin as he fastens the choker around your neck, and your skin prickles.

While he’s behind you, you’re still facing Angel. You bear no ill-will toward the porn star; you admire his confidence, and you know he’s been a good friend to Husk since long before you got here. For as much as they tease each other, Husk does genuinely seem to care about Angel and enjoy his outings with him; he wouldn’t have gone on that shopping trip if he didn’t enjoy the company at least a little, you’re sure. He hasn’t been subtle about his crush on Husk, but he’s also conceded his loss to you with grace, which only makes you appreciate him further. It’s not like Angel can’t provide any competition. Who would turn down the opportunity to date a famous porn star? You’re not even into his works, but even you admit that he’s gorgeous, with his slender build and strong legs.

You’re not built like him at all. He’s skinny in a way he works hard for, making sure every part of his body is proportioned just right for his admirers. He’s not just skinny, he’s healthy, and he glows from it.

Meanwhile, Husk is gently rubbing your bony shoulders, and you can’t help but wonder how he feels about the hard lumps beneath his palms.

“Turn around so I can see it?” he asks. You comply, and he responds with wide eyes and a whistle. “Beautiful.”

You’re not sure if you’re in the right headspace to accept the compliment. “Thanks,” you say anyway.

You spend the rest of the afternoon talking to Husk and Angel about their outing, and trying not to look at Angel too much.

—

Why are you crying about this? This is so stupid. Husk chose you, didn’t he? He met Angel first; if that was what he really wanted, they would have gotten together before you even showed up, wouldn’t they?

So why are you hiding under your blanket, sobbing and clutching your shoulders and wishing you looked like him?

A gentle rapping noise interrupts your self-pity. “Babe? You okay in there?”

“I’m fine!” you call back, despite the tears streaming down your face.

“That didn’t sound fine.” Damn him and his ability to read people. That’s what you get for dating someone who doesn’t like backing down from someone who’s clearly in denial about their own feelings. How dare he care about you like this?

(You’re glad he cares about you. You just wish he’d let you have that denial.)

“I’ll be right there,” you say, knowing he won’t leave now that he’s heard you crying. You untangle yourself from the blanket cocoon you’ve been hiding in, and you go to open the door for him.

“You look like shit,” Husk says as he closes the door behind him. Not the most romantic greeting, but he’s not wrong; your fur is stained with tears, and your makeup is running. Not a good look. “Come here.” He takes your hand, leads you to the bed, and sits you both on the edge of it. “Talk to me.”

You take a few deep breaths to make sure you won’t start sobbing mid-sentence. “Husk? Am I too skinny?”

Husk stares at you, dumbfounded. “Babe. Everyone in this hotel is built like a fucking twig.”

“Yeah, on purpose!” you say. “They don’t have bones sticking out, or sunken faces… they don’t look fucking starved.”

Husk still seems dumbfounded. “Have you looked at me recently?”

You don’t mind giving him a look. His soft fur, unintentionally tousled in such a perfect way, with tufts on his shoulders and chest that are so wonderful to tug. His yellow eyes that currently burn with sarcasm, but that can gaze at you so softly when the mood is right. His generous heart; it’s not something you can see, but you always feel it when you look at him. Whether it’s the choker you still feel around your neck or the time he always gives you no matter the hour of the day, you know he could never feel like he’s given you enough.

“You don’t think I look awful, do you?” Husk says. “You could tell me if you did. I ain’t under any delusion that I’m winning any beauty contests.”

“You look great, Husk!” you insist. “I’ve thought you were handsome ever since I got here.”

“Yeah? You don’t think I look like a withered corpse because I’m regularly too drunk to remember to eat?”

“No!” you say, horrified. “Why would I ever think that?”

“Because it’s true,” he says with a shrug. “I take shitty care of myself, I ain’t denying it. At least you’re tryin’. That’s just what your body looks like. That ain’t your problem.”

“But still…” You pull your legs up to the bed and hug them. “I wish I looked like Angel sometimes… he really likes you, you know.”

Husk snorts. “Yeah. I kinda guessed.”

“You could have been with him before I even got here. Why would you choose me over a gorgeous celebrity like him?”

“You’ve got a certain charm that he doesn’t have. I still like the guy a lot, but we’re just friends. He’s not as kind hearted as you, and he doesn’t appreciate quiet nights in like you do. He needs someone who can keep up with him… and I need someone who can slow down with me. Someone like you.”

At least he loves your personality…

“Plus…” Husk wraps an arm around your waist and squeezes your hip. “I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said he had a flat ass.”

“Husk!” you squeal, his touch tickling your skin.

“Can I be a gross old man for a second?” he says with a smirk. “Because I love curves. Hips and ass are the best. Gives me something to squeeze.” Both of his arms are around you now, and he’s holding you close. “Sure, he’s perfect by some standards, but he ain’t my type. You, on the other hand…” He kisses your forehead and gently strokes your hair. “Don’t change based on what you think I want, okay, doll? I love you just like this.

Comparin’ yourself to others won’t get you anywhere. Just trust that I’m with you because I wanna be.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel husk x reader #hazbin husk x reader #irk blubbers about nothing #irk got asked a thing #irk huskposts

91 notes · View notes

whyse7vn · 7 months

Text

FUCK MARRY KILL -

[ot7 x reader]

GOLDEN OUT SOON

8 participants - 8 online

———————————

jin: just googled what champagne confetti means and wtf????

jimin: the fact that you had to google that 💀

namjoon: it’s been how long since the song came out?

y/n: wow jin ur really old as hell

💀💀💀💀💀

jin: IM NOT

hobi: bro had to google champagne confetti 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

jin: A LOT of people don’t know what that means

tae: a lot of old people 💀💀💀

jin: can you stop with the skulls

jimin: 💀💀💀💀

jin: i bet jungkook doesn’t even know what that means

jk: i do

why would i say it if i didn’t know it stupid

hobi: jungkook just called u stupid 💀

jin: bye

y/n: i’m turning evil

hobi: yesss feminism 💞💞

jin: how?

y/n: i just am

stay out of women’s business

jk: no guys it’s true she didn’t make me breakfast today 😰😰😰😰😰

yoongi: are you 5? why does she make u breakfast

jk: love

you wouldn’t get it

tae: i love an evil woman

they get me going

if you know what i mean

wink wink

y/n tell them what me you and namjoon did yesterday lol

namjoon: shut up

y/n: if you keep talking i’m going to block

you

tae: baby 💔

she doesn’t mean that guys

jimin: what did you guys do?

y/n: nothing important

hobi: i’ve decided that enhypen are my biggest enemies in life

I HATE THEM

jk: i love jikjin ❤️

namjoon: that was treasure

jk: no

namjoon: ok

jimin: what did enhypen do to you

hobi: exist

i’m not fucking with them

the vibes are off

and there are too many australians

y/n: isn’t it jake the only australian one?

yoongi: why do you know his name

y/n: because i’m nice and remember people’s names

hobi: i’ll literally kill jake like wdym oh naur??? like only i can say that

fucking bitch

UGH

i hate him

jimin: wow ok

namjoon: hoseok be the bigger person here they are kids

hobi: i’m skinny

bigger person?? absolutely not!

jimin: he kinda real for that idk

y/n: LMAO

jin: i’m saying fuck enhypen AND newjeans

hobi: literally

y/n: haters

jimin: NO FUCK NEWJEANS FOR REAL HAD ME DANCING TO ETA

LIKE I’M A MAN

jin: ha

jimin: what’s funny?

jin: 😚

jimin: i literally agreed with you idk why ur trying to fight me rn

jin: i didn’t even say anything

jimin: you didn’t have to

namjoon: ok both of you stop

jk: what if i was a giant meatball

yoongi: that’s nasty

tae: no cuz i get it

are you the meatball or is the meatball you

if you know what i mean

jk: i know

tae: no bro

we know

yoongi: ur sick

both of you are extremely sick

hobi: wish enhypen was sick

with the plague or something

y/n: that’s not nice :(

hobi: i would say i’m sorry

but i’m not

and i don’t lie

i just don’t

jk: guys can we cook rocks

y/n: no

jk: why not

y/n: they are rocks

jk: ok but have you tried

y/n: shut up

jk: yes

hobi: i could so play alexander hamilton

jimin: isn’t that the guy who drives the fast car?

jk: the fast and furious man?

tae: vin diesel????

yoongi: lewis hamilton you fucking idiots

hobi: i’m talking about the founding father

jk: what did ur father find???

namjoon: isn’t that an american thing?

jimin: finding fathers?

y/n: i can find mine

jin: so can i

and last time i’m checked i’m not american

tae: does america think koreans are fatherless?

yoongi: you act like u are don’t blame them tbh

hobi: no guys don’t you know the musical??

jin: about fatherless koreans?

jk: or the car man?

i thought that was a normal movie

did i miss the singing part???

y/n: omg didn’t jimin do a song for fast and furious??

jimin: OMG I DID

namjoon: wait i’m confused

hobi: lin-manuel miranda???

tae: wtf is that

jin: a sauce?

y/n: is that not the lip bite guy

hobi: YES

yoongi: give up hoseok

hobi: i have faith in them

yoongi: don’t

hobi: ur right…

jimin: anyways

tae: thinking hard rn

namjoon: i’m impressed

tae: thank you its the first time i’ve ever done this

i’m fucking with it lowkey

yoongi: go away

tae: can someone ask me what i’m thinking about

jimin: no

tae: since you asked i’ve got a really important question

jk: i’ll answer

tae: no you won’t

hobi: y/n do you want cookies?

y/n: PLEASE

jin: can i have some

hobi: no

jin: :/

tae: y/n

y/n: what

jk: 😍

tae: fuck marry kill

like out of us

this shouldn’t be hard

y/n: ur right it’s not

fuck jin marry hobi kill jimin

tae: just fell to my knees

jimin: kinkyyyy

hobi: 🥺

jin: real!!!!!!!

jk: wait what

yoongi: lol

tae: clutching my chest

namjoon: would you all get a grip

tae: i have a grip on my heart

i’m having a heart attack

ohmygod

it’s fading to black

help me

beep beep beeeeeeeeeeeppp

(i’m dead)

yoongi: thank god

jk: y/n you can kill me yk?

won’t even be mad i swear

like fr

as long as ur thinking of me ha

idm!!!

y/n: but i picked jimin to kill

jk: oh lmao yeah!

you picked jimin

silly me lol

yeah

ur right lol

jimin

yeah

jin: you wanna fuck rn lol?

yoongi: shut up

jin: ur mad

yoongi: i’m not

it’s just a stupid game 😂

jin: EWWW YOONGI JUST USED “😂”

i could throw up

someone kick him

jimin: when you kill me can you do it by strangling me

i feel like that would be the best way to go

namjoon: gross?

hobi: i think we should have a spring wedding that would be SAURRRR cute

y/n: NAURRRR ur so right

jk: ha ha

hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

jimin: wow he’s insane

jk: i could die better than you

i would die instantly

i wouldn’t fight back

i wouldn’t struggle

i would just die

jimin: the struggling is the best part

namjoon: stop

yoongi: fucking freaks

tae: she’s in love with me i know it

y/n: did you not just have a heart attack?

tae: can you kiss me like yesterday

y/n: absolutely not!

tae: wow u want me so fucking bad

jin: yesterday?

jimin: let’s a have threesome

hobi: bro can’t count

jimin: no

i just don’t vibe with jin fr

jin: ur such a hater it’s crazy this is why she’s killing you

and fucking ME

jk: LOL

LOOOOOOOOOOLLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLLLLLLLLLLL

y/n: guys can we talk about rn gojo pls I’m feeling sentimental

namjoon: who is that?

y/n: sighs looks out window

yoongi: don’t let her start

y/n: gojo was a hero to many a enemy to some a teacher to a few but to me

to me gojo was everything

jin: already don’t care can you come over lol

y/n: you want an in person gojo explanation???

jin: if that is what people are calling head now absolutely!!!!!!!!!!!!

y/n: jin i could cry

i’ll be there 😭🙏🏽

tae: me and joon are here

well like more me than joon but he can come if you want

i’m here babe

pls

don’t go to jin

jimin: wtf are you talking about 💀

jk: she didn’t even kill me guys

wow

she didn’t even kill me….

hobi: she married me

jimin: ur clearly not on her mind bro

jk: no ur right

why would i even be on her mind anyways

i’m just a stupid idiot that no one loves

or wants to kill

y/n: get a grip

jk: grip gotten

yoongi: ur all dumb as hell

y/n: don’t be mad i didn’t pick you

yoongi: i’m not

jimin: iM nOt

yoongi: she literally killed you stfu

jimin: so?? at least i was on her mind

jk: WHY DIDNT YOU PICK ME OHMYGODDDDDIDJDJJDJJz nxbsjsh

tae: ok but be fr did you forget how to spell my name y/n be honest

tae: my name is tae

y/n: i know!

jk: i thought it was taehyung?

tae: CAN YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP RN WE HAVE BIGGER ISSUES

jk: i’m sorry ur right

no one loves me

hit me in the head with a shovel

tae: ok LOOOOLLL but out of the remaining people who would you fuck?

y/n: joonie 🙏🏽

yoongi: u think ur so funny

y/n: ?

sorry for speaking my truth

jin: literally

tae: NAMJOON FR????

AFTER ALL I DID

and you pick the man that basically sat behind you the whole time

jin: wait

namjoon: taehyung

tae: WHATEVER

jin: waittttttttttttttttttttt

y/n: let’s not wait actually

jk: y/n are you sure you don’t want to kill me

jimin: shut the hell up

tae: AHHHHHHHZHSHSHSUDUDH

UGHHHHSYSZHSSBDBDN

YOU WANT ME

i hate life

you want me so bad

i know it

FUCK YOU

tae left “GOLDEN OUT SOON”

yoongi: wtf

jimin: wow

hobi: didn’t know it was that srs

jin: i have a theory

namjoon: you don’t

jin: no i definitely do

y/n: shut the fuck up

jin: wow u guys are nasty

yoongi: ????

jk: y/n did you change ur mind?

jimin kicked jk from “ GOLDEN OUT SOON”

—

tags: @piw6n @jvmisvu @birdie-vhs @kooksmilitarywife @hob3loveofmylife @jujubiism @bloopkook @ratchetpizza1 @myntalks @arloo00 @watamotee33 @y2kcy3brz @taiwan0618 @indigobsessed @freyadanvers @gguksbeloved @raetf @bbsantc @winuvs @medicinemybish @bxnnyhime @leleluvsbts @baetukki @zyaaaszn @thelilbutifulthings @yojaschill @k4ngelz @junghoseokshusband

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in1-nutshell · 3 months

Text

Elita One's twin sister with the personality of SG! Blackarachnia with reactions from Team Prime

This is a continuation of the previous request.

SFW, Angst, Hurt and Comfort, Romantic hinted, Cybertronain (techno organic) reader

TFA

Winter had rolled in for the season.

Optimus had been very closed off since the interaction with the Spider Con. The team had tried to get him to talk about it, but he didn’t want to.

Not yet at least.

He wanted some time to think about this.

Buddy clearly didn’t want to be found by the Elite Guard, which to a degree made sense, especially since she had sided with the Decepticons.

His team however took the silence as something else.

They thought that the spider had done something horrible to their leader for him to be so reclusive.

“What do you think the Con did?”--Bumblebee

“Maybe they scared him? He is scared of spider’s.”--Bulkhead

“It can’t be that! That Con is too nice.”--Sari

“Oh, please! All Cons are bad!”--Bumblebee

“Not this one! You saw what happened last time! She saved me, twice!”--Sari

Suddenly Fanzone started calling.

One of the older buildings in the city had started collapsing and people were still inside.

“We are on our way!”--Optimus

“Well, I hope so, you’re friend went inside to help but they haven’t gone out yet.”--Fanzone

“Wait friend?”--Optimus

“You guys got a new Bot on the team, right?”--Fanzone

“Fanzone, we don’t have any recruits…”--Optimus

“Then who just went in there and started getting people out? That seems like a very Autoboty thing to do.”--Fanzone

“Wait, can you describe the Bot who went in?”--Optimus

“Umm… white, orange, a bit on the skinny side for a bot—”--Fanzone

“Fanzone this is important, did you see something spiky poking out of the back side?”--Optimus

“Yeah—Hello? Prime?”--Fanzone

Optimus sprinting out the door with his team following behind him.

The old building had cracks all around the sides, deeper ones at the top were created by the snowfall piling up on the roof.

Right now, their main concern was to get the humans out of the building before addressing the new bot somewhere.

A huge part of the building started coming down.

That’s when Optimus heard the yelling.

Without a second thought, he jumped into the collapsing building despite his team yelling otherwise.

Ratchet deciding, he had enough of staying in the sidelines charged in after the young Prime, using his magnets to get rid of stary debris.

Optimus kept on following the now muffled sounds of screaming until he got to the middle of the building.

Buddy was pinned on the floor with a huge chunk of the ceiling on her pedes, there was a pile of snow partially burying her helm.

“HELP! HELP! Please, someone!”--Buddy

“Buddy! Buddy, I’m right here!”--Optimus

“Optimus!? Optimus! I’m stuck! I can’t move! I can’t move!”--Buddy

“Its going to be okay Buddy!”--Optimus

As Optimus starts getting the debris out the ceiling starts cracking.

“No… not again… not again…”--Buddy

“Buddy just hold on! Keep talking to me!”--Optimus

“Its going to fall… Its going—”--Buddy

“It’s not going to fall on you Buddy. I will not let that happen, I promise you will get out of here! But right now I need you with me. Can you do that?”--Optimus

Buddy, close to tears, nodding, trying to help as much as she could.

Ratchet finally came in to see Prime trying to get rid of the debris from the Con.

Now normally he would try and get Prime out of there, the con wasn’t worth it.

Cons were harder to kill than the Earth’s roaches.

But he saw the determined and terrified look on his faceplate trying to keep the Con awake and getting the debris out with one servo while propping the con to lean on his.

He used his magnets to lift a bit of the ruble.

It was enough for Prime to pull the con out and gather them in his arms and the three got out just as the rest of the ceiling started caving in.

Buddy had passed out as soon as they all made it out of the building.

Prime quickly started running towards the plant with the other 4s in tow.

Everyone was confused but followed the Prime.

There was a lot of protest to have the Con come into their home, but Prime wasn’t having it.

“We can’t have a Con know where we live!”--Prowl

“Prowl’s right! Look Prime I’m agreeing with him!”--Bumblebee

“She isn’t going to tell anything.”--Optimus

“And how do you know that?”--ratchet

“It’s not like you know her Prime! How do you know what she is or is not going to do?”--Prowl

“…”--Optimus

“Guys, she might be a Con and all, but look at her! She is hurt and she tried to save a bunch of humans. I don’t think a Decepticon would do all that without a good reason. I say we give it a chance.”--Sari

“Really, Sari!?”--Prowl

“I agree with her.”--Bulkhead

“Bulkhead?!”--Prowl

“Me too.”--Bumblebee

“…”--Ratchet

“Still—”--Prowl

“THAT’S ENOUGH! If anything, bad happens to this team it will fall on me and you can have the last ‘I told you so’ if something bad does happen! Right now Buddy needs help and I don’t—I don’t…”--Optimus

“…You do know them…”--Prowl

“I’ll get the medbay ready Kid. You take her in when I say it’s okay.”--Ratchet

Ratchet didn’t know what history Prime had with this Con, but he was choosing to trust the Prime.

Thankfully the wounds looked worse than what they really were.

Optimus told the team a short version of the story between him and Buddy, while Buddy rested.

“The three of us thought she was dead when we left that planet. When we met again not too long ago, it turned out that the organic part of her had masked her signature…”--Optimus

“And that’s why you could find her?”--Prowl

“Yeah…”—Optimus

“What happened to you guys when you got to Cybertron?”--Sari

“I… I took the blame—”--Optimus

“You did what?!”—Bulkhead

“Optimus!”—Bumblebee

“Prime!”--Ratchet

“I felt it was my fault and I took all the blame so Elita and Sentinel could continue with their training and end up in the Elite Guard.”

“That’s how you ended up on Space bridge repair.”--Ratchet

“Yeah…”--Optimus

“Well, if we are getting everything out now, I know that bot too.”--Ratchet

“Wait you know Buddy?”--Optimus

“Does everyone know this Bot? Bulk you know them?”--Bumblebee

“Nope.”--Bulkhead

“Good I’m not the only one.”--Bumblebee

“As I was saying, she used to come into some of the clinics to help when things were a bit hectic. She studied under me while she was taking her medical exams. She always said it was all for her friends.”--Ratchet

“Did she now?”--Optimus

“You three numb nuts always got hurt in the worst ways doing the dumbest stuff. What do you think I needed to do?”--Buddy

Buddy leaning on the wall.

“Kid! What are you doing up?! Are your circuits fried!”--Ratchet

“Not yet Doctor…”--Buddy

“Wait how much did you hear?”--Optimus

“Enough to make me wish I was at full strength so I could pummel you for taking the blame!”--Buddy

“But—”--Optimus

“Hold it Prime! And then punch Sentinel in his big chin and kick Elita in the behind!”--Buddy

“Buddy why don’t you sit down.”--Ratchet

“…Fine.”--Buddy

A blizzard had been forming outside.

Prime absolutely banned Buddy from going out in that weather.

Buddy really couldn’t complain.

Now she was stuck in the Autobot base until the storm at least passed.

She was constantly watched.

Many bots did try and question her, but to her surprise Optimus shut that down immediately.

Sari was the first one to approach her.

She didn’t have to fear this Con. Buddy had helped her before and had helped those people get out of the building.

She wasn’t a bad guy.

Bulkhead, a believer in second chances also jumped at the chance to connect with Buddy.

“What do you do for fun?”--Sari

“Fun?”--Buddy

“Yeah! Like watch movies, play games, that stuff.”--Sari

“Well, I do like looking at art sometimes.”--Buddy

“You like paintings!?”--Bulkhead

“Yes?”--Buddy

“I have some, you wanna see?”--Bulkhead

“Sure.”--Buddy

“Full warning Buddy, but they aren’t exactly… well you’ll see.”--Bumblebee

“Umm… okay?”--Buddy

“Here it is! What do you think.”—Bulkhead

Bulkhead presenting a painting full of colors.

“…Bulkhead…”--Buddy

“If you’re gonna say it stinks—”--Bulkhead

“Woah, woah, woah! Who said anything about it stinking? Art is in the optic of the beholder after all. I like the hues you used and the brush strokes you did here. I’m just sorry I can’t take this with me!”--Buddy

“You’re just saying that.”--Bulkhead

“What no! Why would I do that?”--Buddy

“You really like it?”--Bulkhead

“Bulkhead I wish I could bring it with me.”--Buddy

Bulkhead looking at Prime.

“Where have you been keeping them from me.”--Bulkhead

Bumblebee soon joined in showing Buddy some of his video games and may or may not have asked for some stories about the old Boss bot.

Buddy was happy to comply with that much to Optimus’s dismay.

“You have any stories about Boss-Bot?”--Bumblebee

“That’s not important—”--Optimus

“Absolutely!”--Buddy

“Buddy, no.”--Optimus

“Buddy, yes. Sit down kid, I got a whole bunch of stories. If you tell me a funny story about Optimus here from the time here on Earth, I’ll even throw in a story about Sentinel too.”--Buddy

“So, there was this time Optimus tried swinging from the rooftops one time and fell into the harbor.”--Bumblebee

“Bumblebee!”--Optimus

“Kid you are officially on my good side.”--Buddy

“Buddy…”--Optimus

“Yes…”--Buddy

“You wouldn’t…”--Optimus

“And what if I do?”--Buddy

“No… not that one!”--Optimus

“Yes, that one! Now Prime here—”--Buddy

Optimus tackling Buddy down.

Ratchet joined in after checking over Buddy’s wounds again. He is glad to see one of his unofficial official students are still kicking.

Prowl joined in when she retold some of her adventures on this planet without the Cons. The two ended up having an in-depth conversation about rocks.

“Thank you Ratchet. Prime needs to remember some of us are still injured.”--Buddy

“Again, I said I’m sorry!”--Optimus

“Yeah, yeah.”--Buddy

“… You’re the Decepticon’s new medic aren’t you.”--Ratchet

“…How did you know?”--Buddy

“Call it a hunch… and you have several tools in your subspace with several rocks.”--Ratchet

“Rocks?”--Prowl

“Yeah, it’s a past time of mine. I think the humans call it a ‘rock collection’.”--Buddy

“Can I see?”--Prowl

Buddy popping one of her subspaces and taking out all sorts of rocks.

After the conversation, Sari declared it a movie night. Optimus was the last one to sit down.

The only place left was next Buddy.

Buddy looked at Optimus and patted the spot next to her, he sat down.

Neither of them looked at each other for a bit.

As the movie continued, Buddy took a glance at him seeing the sad look on his face.

She reached out and grabbed his servo.

“Thank you.”--Buddy

“Hm? For what?”--Optimus

“You kept your promise. You came for me.”--Buddy

“… I… I…”--Optimus

“It’s okay Prime. I forgave you a long time ago.”--Buddy

Optimus sniffling a bit while squeezing Buddy’s servo in response.

Buddy leaning her helm on his shoulder.

Prime moves a bit closer, just glad to have his friend back.

This was a start, a small one, but a start.

Buddy left the base that night while everyone went to recharge to go and meet up with the Cons.

She left a note telling them where she went and thanks for the help.

Right now, Buddy had another problem to deal with.

“Hey I’m back—”--Buddy

Buddy getting plowed to the ground by Blitzwing.

“Where were you?!”—Hot head

“Are you hurt?!”--Icy

“Did you make snow bots?”—Random

“I’m fine—“—Buddy

Lugnut running in and pulling Buddy into a crushing hug.

“Buddy, you have been gone for too long! Too many things have happened since you left!”--Lugnut

Starscream walking in and sighing in relief.

“Finally, you decided to come by. As your second in command, I demand you to tell us where have you been.”--Starscream

“Well, I got caught in the snowstorm—”--Buddy

“Snowstorm?!”—Blitzwing, Lugnut, Starscream

“Do you know how dangerous that was?!”—Starscream

“You could have been offline if—“--Blitzwing

“Yes? I know that, but I’m fine now.”--Buddy

“Yeah, one of you has to tell Lord Megatron now.”--Starscream

“Megatron? Wait is he mad?”--Buddy

“Not exactly, he has been worrying where you have been, which you still haven’t told us yet!”--Lugnut

“What is all this blundering—Buddy?”--Megatron

“Hello My Lord—”--Buddy

“…”--Megatron

Lugnut releasing Buddy from his hold as she stands up straighter.

“I’m sorry for being so late. I got caught in the snowstorm and I had to wait it out until I could leave.”--Buddy

Megatron walking up to Buddy stopping in front of her.

“Megatron?”--Buddy

Megatron picks up Buddy into his arms and carrying her to the medbay.

“Starscream get the heat pads! Blitzwing help him! Lugnut lock the doors!”--Megatron

“Megatron! There is no—”--Buddy

“If you say that ‘there is no need for this’, I will further put you under base arrest.”--Megatron

“What?!”--Buddy

“I will do it. Do not test me.”--Megatron

“Fine…”--Buddy

Megatron reaching to the medbay and closing the doors.

“…You did give us all a fright when you did come back… especially with the drop in temperature.”--Megatron

“Megatron—”--Buddy

“No. Let me finish. Buddy, we were worried. I was worried.”--Megatron

“Why were you worried? I’m just one medic in your army. I don’t--”--Buddy

“You are not just some medic!”--Megatron

“Then?”--Buddy

“You…I…”--Megatron

“Yes?”--Buddy

“I—”--Megatron

Lugnut kicking down the door.

“I have successfully locked the doors, Lord Megatron!”--Lugnut

Megatron looking like he is about to scream.

“Thank you…Lugnut…”—Megatron

Buddy giggling a bit in the background.

#transformers #transformers x reader #maccadam #bot buddy #techno oranic buddy #tfa optimus prime #tfa ratchet #tfa bumblebee #tfa bulkhead #tfa prowl #tfa sari #tfa x reader #tfa elita one twin sister

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