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deaddemondonteat · 8 months

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CW: referenced previous noncon, bodily discharge, post noncon recovery, start of Whumpee conditioning, food restriction/starvation, mention of gun fucking, kinda stockholm-y, past domestic abuse mention Words: 4599 Characters: Aziphem and Kotarou A follow up to this fic Major thank you to @burntcoffeewhump and @quietly-by-myself for beta reading!!!!

The sky had shifted from black to the earliest hints of morning blue by the time Kotarou stirred beneath him, disrupting the sensitive flesh inside Aziphem. Of course, the demon had moved about throughout the sleepless night, debating over any possibility of escape. But even in his drunken haze, the angel still responded to every motion. As it was, Aziphem couldn’t risk it, he would not survive a punishment after all of this. Not with the way his eyes leaked tears every time he felt the cold stain of his squirt on the bed.

Kotarou slowly came to, undoubtedly hung over if not possibly still drunk. After a few sluggish moments, he must have registered the gravity of the situation. Aziphem felt every muscle in the angels thin frame tense under him and steeled himself for round two. Now that the angel didn’t seem to have any more issues fucking him, that seemed to be the only natural next step.

Instead, Aziphem was roughly pushed off, slumping to the side with a whimper as a thick mixture of cum and whatever discharge his agitated body had made started to dribble out of his cunt. Whining slightly at the new emptiness, he covered himself the best he could so as not to invite further intrusions.

It almost felt worse to be cast aside, and for a moment Aziphem yearned for the angel to hold him again. At least when they’d fucked, Kotarou had cradled him close and made him feel safe.

But he wasn’t safe. Aziphem had upset the angel; he must have for him to be thrown aside like this. As with any other failure, he would be forced back into his cell, left alone with his grumbling stomach and aching body—

“Hey—hey, don’t cry, little demon.”

Aziphem hadn’t noticed he was crying. Not until Kotarou’s cool fingers brushed across his thick lashes, taking the tears away with them.

“Come here. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Not even the angel’s painfully cool touch could temper the burning self-hatred elicited at wanting his help. But that didn’t stop Aziphem from leaning into it.

Kotarou gently lifted him up, Aziphem uncharacteristically docile in his grasp as he was pulled into a standing position. His legs had numbed from the awkward position, unsteady beneath him. Despite the pins and needles, Aziphem nevertheless could still feel the shameful trickle of cum down his thighs.

“Bathroom,” Kotarou commanded. The angel snatched a dirty shirt, the same one he had stripped off the night before, swaddling it around Aziphem’s crotch to stem the dribble. “It’s alright. It’s alright. You’re alright.”

Aziphem knew he was filthy, the cotton shirt between his legs getting sticky from the walk of shame. From the angel’s bedroom he had been fucked in to the small bathroom couldn’t have been more than thirty steps, but with numb legs giving away below him and the angel's hands between his legs those thirty steps were a fight.

“Sit.” Kotarou’s voice held firm as he opened the bathroom door, plopping the small demon on the toilet.

Aziphem crumpled onto the seat, sobs heaving in his chest but refusing to leave. It was a surprisingly normal bathroom to be having this level of breakdown in, yet here he was, staring down at a sunflower patterned bath mat trying to choke back sobs as stringy goo dribbled out into the toilet.

Curse that fucking angel, with his pretty house that Aziphem once considered safer than the labs. Curse the colorful tile in the shower and quaint paintings and all the pretty little things that made this hell more humiliating.

At least it’s not the lab showers.

The old house creaked around them, amplifying the quiet little hiccups that caught in Aziphem’s throat. Everything hung in near silence, allowing the two a quiet moment. Aziphem shrunk in on himself, wishing he was truly as alone as he felt.

Kotarou watched from the door frame, holding his soiled shirt. Aziphem could see the stain, dark with what he assumed was his blood, and for a moment was thankful for the angel’s help. Better there than on his legs.

“You won’t cause any problems if I let you shower alone, will you?”

Aziphem shook his head. For once, he found that he didn’t have it in him to cause problems.

“Alright. I’ll be right outside.”

The door shut quietly and Aziphem collapsed.

Crunching up on the toilet seat, he couldn’t help but sob silently. He smothered a whimper, knowing Kotarou would be lingering outside the bathroom door. Why did the angel have to be so gentle with him? Why couldn’t he just use him the way Haziel did?

Aziphem winced, shaking his head at the thought of that. He barely kept it together being tossed aside on the bed. Being locked in his cell now would be messy to say the least. Yet his thoughts kept falling back to the way he had been held and comforted, Kotarou’s arms around him. He was, for just that moment, loved. Just the thought sent a warmth through his chest. A prickly self hatred tainted warmth, but it was comforting nonetheless.

No. He had to think rationally here, and rational thinking brain did not to play gentle lover to the man who just raped him.

At least he had been gentle.

“Shuddup—” Aziphem mumbled aloud, as if that would get the voice in his head to oblige.

“Are you alright?” Kotarou really hadn’t left the door, had he? Aziphem looked up to see it cracked open, a long, glasslike strand of hair leading up to a sliver of Kotarou’s genuinely concerned face.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” Aziphem hardly believed himself and the angel didn’t either. They both knew one good hug would have him whimpering into Kotarou’s chest again.

“You don't seem fine. Do you need—”

“The fuck do you think? No! No I’m not!” Forcing the tiny remaining spark of anger back into his lungs, Aziphem yanked the toilet paper roll from the hanger beside him and hurled it with the sole intention of getting that door shut. “Now piss off!”

Silence, as the angel considered his reaction. Aziphem braced himself for the door to be flung open, for a slap to the face that did not come. A pause. A deep breath. A sigh.

“If I don’t hear the shower in five minutes I’m coming in and helping you.” The small crack in the door shut, leaving him in false solitude.

“I said, piss off!” Aziphem shouted, the anger fizzling away as he did so. At least he wasn’t getting punished today. Apparently getting fucked was a get out of jail free card.

…Could he use that to get out of other things?

Fuck-no. No—that was a bad path to go down.

As Kotarou’s footsteps receded from the door, Aziphem stood up. He wiped his still dripping cunt to the best of his ability before making it the five steps to the shower and shutting the frosted glass door behind him. After a few frustrating moments of messing with the nobs, frigid water finally sprayed from the shower head, dousing Aziphem under the icy flow.

Cold water after sex was normally a punishment from Haziel, but for now it was the distraction he needed. At least he wasn’t in the lab showers…

The lab showers was a horrible place, a cold steel box with a hose meant for spraying down unruly subjects. Whenever Haziel needed to hide the evidence of what he did, that’s where Aziphem would be cleaned inside and out. Here, even if the water was cold, it was… gentle.

The drops bounced lightly off his skin instead of leaving painful welts. Instead of seeing his own broken reflection staring back at him from a steel wall he glanced out the small opened window to stare at the sky. He knew what this meant, being given a shower here. Bribing Kotarou with sex would get him nice things, he just wasn’t sure he was ready to pay that toll.

But it got you out of the lab showers.

Aziphem forced his head under the icy water again, trying to wash out the thought. This wasn’t worth being fucked for, no matter how gentle the angel had been as he did it.

The cold water helped, but it had begun to outstay its welcome. Finally realizing how to turn up the heat, Aziphem busied himself with cleaning up. Everything about him stunk of sex and stale sweat. And there was of course the problem that he was still fucking dripping. He had hoped that would just—wash away. But no; he realized with a sinking feeling that he was going to have to deal with it.

Refusing to look between his legs, Aziphem tilted his head up as he washed. Even the thought of his own fingers made him shudder, a reminder of how the angel had so gently brushed against him and teased him open. But he needed to wash himself. Otherwise Kotarou would do it for him and Aziphem did not want those fingers anywhere near him. Being cautious with his claws, Aziphem gently slid two fingers into himself.

Sensitive flesh met sharp talons and the demon winced, leaning against the tile wall to steady himself. His agitated pussy pulsed softly around the new intrusion, unwilling to relax even to his own touch. Of course, he didn’t touch his body much. It wasn’t really even his own body anymore; it was Kotarou’s now.

It had always been Kotarou’s. The angel had just decided to switch from slicing it open to fucking it.

A nice change.

The door opened again, Kotarou’s pale silhouette moving behind the frosted glass barrier. Aziphem braced for him to pull open the shower door, tail wrapped defensively around his waist. Yet the intrusion never came; instead, Aziphem heard a porcelain clunk and the quiet rustling of fabric being placed on the now closed toilet lid.

“Towel and clothes. Meet me outside when you’re dressed.”

The door shut. Aziphem was alone again.

Clothes? Aziphem leaned out of the shower to snatch the neatly folded pile of fabric. He had expected his usual hospital gown, yet instead a pair of boxers and a large button up shirt went tumbling to the floor as he yanked the towel out from the bottom of the pile.

Judging by the size, they were Haziel’s boxers, a realization that caused Aziphem to snort in amusement. It wasn’t like he would pass up a clean pair of underwear—a commodity he rarely got—but still, the idea of Kotarou raiding Haziel’s closet was entertaining.

Even if everything was a little too large, the clothing nevertheless left Aziphem feeling closer to a person than he had in years.

Pausing by the door, Aziphem adjusted the buttons of the gifted shirt over and over, hoping he could get around the fact he couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever. It was warm and safe in the bathroom. He could not say the same for outside.

He was almost relieved when Kotarou came for him. For a moment after the angel yanked the door open unannounced, the two stared at one another. Kotarou towered over Aziphem, yet his brow was not furled in its normal show of contempt. He was… softer. Apologetic?

Unrestrained and with some of his dignity returned, the power dynamic was disrupted. He was not Subject 011, Kotarou’s property, or even a demon. This morning Aziphem was a poor hook up decision made in a drunken stupor, just as he had been many times in his human life. And just like all of those men he met at bars, Kotarou was trying to show him enough decency to maybe earn himself another free fuck.

Aziphem always gave his number to the men who treated him alright afterwards. The sex was always mediocre but in exchange for being held, kissed, cared about enough to have breakfast made for him? Absolutely worth it.

Maybe this is worth it.

“I was concerned.” Kotarou broke the silence. His hair no longer stuck to his skin and he had thankfully put on a pair of soft, pajama-like pants, albeit without a shirt. “You were quiet. I wanted to make sure you didn't need help.”

See? He cares.

No. No. Aziphem had to force his thoughts out of the warm lull of letting the angel help him. Scrunching his face into a scowl, he pulled his lips back to remind the angel of his teeth. Eyes locked up onto Kotarou’s gaze, he snarled, “That’s a first.”

Kotarou opened his mouth, but bit his words. So, getting fucked really did give Aziphem a pass to say whatever the fuck he wanted. The angel seemed to ponder for a moment, surprising Aziphem when he finally spoke.

“I’m glad to see you’re regaining your composure. Although I will ask that you watch your tongue.” He stepped back, gesturing the demon through the doorway. “I made you breakfast.”

“Like a gentleman?”

“Do you want it or not?”

“Yes.” Aziphem was too quick to respond, an eager nod accompanying his word. He was starving, as per usual. Any breakfast, even if it was Kotarou’s weird vegan bullshit, was more than merely accepted.

It was fish, pan fried and coated in… some sort of sauce that Aziphem couldn’t tell by scent alone. The smell curled through the house, leading him through the large rooms and inviting him towards the small kitchen. Everything he walked past was old, from the wooden beams holding the place up to the woven mats underneath Aziphem’s toes. Even the furniture was old, a mishmash of things from around the world with nothing less than 70 years old. Aziphem eyed an antique velvet sofa, remembering the one his mom had used to knit on. Hers was ancient then, some 60 years ago.

“Keep moving.” Kotarou’s fingers were gentle like his voice, a firm touch guiding Aziphem on towards the kitchen. Even unrestrained, this was his reminder that he was on a short leash.

The kitchen too was old, lacking modern appliances, but had at least been updated to this century. A wood burning stove warmed the small room, radiant heat still touching Aziphem as he sat on the chair the angel pulled out for him. Even through the boxers, cold wood ground against his inflamed cunt, forcing Aziphem to shift to try to find a comfortable position. His pained whimpers caught the attention of Kotarou, who wordlessly took a folded towel from a stack, lifting the demon slightly to place it on the seat. Aziphem didn’t even have it in him to object to the manhandling.

He had been right about the fish though. Two salmon filets with sauce, rice, pickles, soup, and even those stupid bean things the angel was always telling him were good for him. A full hot breakfast, more than he had been offered in a long time.

See? He cares about you. He wants you.

He feels guilty, Aziphem thought, angrily shoving that voice aside. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to swallow that deep need in his chest. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t help but yearn for that gentle care.

At Aziphem’s hesitation, Kotarou motioned to the place setting in front of them. “I didn’t know if you preferred utensils.” The angel had laid a fork next to a pair of chopsticks and a heavy helping of napkins, as if he expected Aziphem to eat with his fingers. “Haziel doesn’t know how to use these and you two are close enough in… time period and place.” He wrung his hands, explanation fizzling on his lips.

“My college roommate was Vietnamese. I know how to use fucking chopsticks.” Aziphem lifted the chopsticks, out of practice but still competent, and began to dig into the salmon. “And unlike Haziel, I have a little class. Don’t live in my fucking car and only eat things deep fried or barbequed.”

This seemed to give Kotarou pause. “You–went to college?”

“Yeah? I’m sorry, does that make you uncomfortable to remember I was a regular person, what, 50 years ago? More?” Aziphem taunted, but stayed careful not to overstep. The warm salmon melted in his mouth, some of the best food he had had in years. It was rich, fatty, salty, and not worth losing over a little snark.

You should behave better. You don’t want to lose this.

“Sorry. I am out of line.” Aziphem bowed his head, chewing quietly. It was dangerous to be so aggressive. He was still sore from what he had done to earn this breakfast and couldn't risk having it taken away.

“Perhaps. But I am not bothered by your answer.” The angel was lying, Aziphem could tell by the way he broke eye contact, insistent at looking anywhere else.

That just made the fish all the more delicious, knowing that Kotarou was uncomfortable while he ate. Indulging in his victory meal, he began on the tangy pickled vegetables and some rice. The angel, on the other hand, simply palmed his coffee.

“What did you study?” Kotarou finally asked, having composed himself.

“Gen Ed. I was planning on architecture but, well, you know what happened next,” Aziphem managed to say through a full mouth. It amused him to watch Kotarou squirm just a little.

“Not fully.”

“You’re prying again.”

Kotarou finally lifted the coffee he had been staring into up to his lips. “You never gave me a full answer.”

Aziphem shook his head, swallowing a large bite of rice. “And I won’t.”

“Little demon—”

“Will you stop with that ‘little demon’ bullshit?” Aziphem snapped, smacking his chopsticks down hard enough to crack the thin wood. Every quiet whisper in his head told him to shut up. To deal with it.

Be his little demon.

No he would not. Aziphem forced his aggression to the front, snarling at Kotarou. “I know you are—fucking thousands of years older than me, but for fuck’s sake, please remember I am a grown ass man!”

No. Shut up. Don’t fuck this up!

Kotarou’s jaw clenched, the disciplinarian Aziphem knew well showing his face again. “Watch your tone demon or so help me—”

Every instinct screamed at Aziphem to cower. This was behavior that got him hit. He needed to shut up but that ever-present defiant streak gnawed in his chest, pushing him forwards.

“Or what? You gonna fuck me back into my place like Haziel does?”

Aziphem immediately flinched, eyes closed and arms wrapped around his head when Kotarou raised his hand. He knew it, the angel was going to hurt him again. And that was how it was supposed to be, none of this gentle eating breakfast nonsense.

You earned yourself this.

But the strike never came.

Not that Kotarou hadn’t been intending to hit him. When Aziphem dared to look up, he could see that the angel still had his hand clenched, ready for a back-handed strike. For some reason though, he was forcing himself not to go through with it.

He cares enough not to hit you. Even if you fail him.

Tears welled up in the corners of Aziphem’s eyes, the intrusive thoughts he had been holding in since Kotarou first cradled him in his arms starting to take control of his conscious mind. After all the violence, all the pain he had suffered from the angel, he had finally learned how to make it stop. Just let himself get fucked. He got breakfast, a real shower, and now even mercy? Aziphem almost wanted to get fucked again. At least Kotarou made the fucking feel good.

He’s gentle. He’s kind. He makes you breakfast. You want this.

“Aziphem. I’m not going to fuck you.”

No.

Why not?

You fucked it up.

“N-no no please—please—” Aziphem immediately started backpedaling, stumbling over his words. He had gone too far insinuating Kotarou would fuck him again, and that it was a bad thing. Even if he wasn’t convinced it was good to be fucked, it was better than being cut open and beaten. And gods, his stomach was full! He was clean by his own hand.

You could be eating breakfast and sleeping in a bed if you knew how to keep your fucking mouth shut.

“I’m sorry, I was out of line. I’m glad you’re doing this—” No he wasn’t. The words stopped on his lips, unsure of their own honesty. He was glad he was fed and clothed but… he didn’t want to get fucked.

Maybe he could even make Haziel stop. Keep you to himself.

That Aziphem did want and the words started to pour out again. “I’m sorry—I don’t mind—I don’t mind at all—” Anything. He would gladly be gently fucked and cuddled if it meant never being raped with that holy gun again.

Beg.

Of course Aziphem had to beg for the angel. Fighting had already lost him these privileges, he would have to perform if he wanted them back. He curled up to spread his knees, pressing the rough fabric of haziel’s boxers against his cunt to make it visible. He needed to show the angel what he could have, entice him.

Bowing his head, Aziphem finally spoke: “Please. Please. You can fuck me.”

Beg and hope he forgives you.

“I want you to fuck me—” the half truth spilled away into honesty, choked sobs interrupting Aziphem’s words. “I want to eat. I want breakfast and showers and—please, please just—”

You could be good for him.

“I’ll be your little demon.”

Aziphem covered his eyes, unable to look at Kotarou as he pleaded. Just spread your legs. Use what you have to get what you need to survive.

This is nothing new for you.

Daunte.

Nekcra.

Haziel.

At least Kotarou cares enough to clean you up and feed you.

“Please.” Aziphem’s eyes overflowed as he tried to look up at Kotarou, hiccupping and choking on his sobs. Snot dribbled down with the tears, making a mess of the shirt. “Please. I like it here, in this house. I like being able to eat and shower and have clothes. I like being able to see the outside—even through a window. I want to stay.”

The demon sniffled in the silence, waiting, hoping for a good response. He was too tired to keep fighting and honestly, he felt human again. He couldn’t lose that.

“I’m sorry. I need to take you back to the lab.” Kotarou set his coffee cup down, rubbing the handle as he contemplated his next words. “I think it’s what's best for both of us.”

It was like the chair was being pulled from underneath Aziphem. His knees pressed together and his tail wrapped around them, shaking from the thought of going back. He couldn’t—just—go back to being cut open. Not after he realized what he could have.

“Don’t—don’t you want to fuck me? Wasn’t I good for you last night?” he mumbled, covering his head.

“No. Last night should not have happened. I was drunk.” Aziphem could hear the angel standing up, quiet footsteps leading up to a hand between his shoulder blades. “It won’t happen again.”

The cold realization took a moment to settle, shifting inside of Aziphem. Much like the cold water of before, this at least shocked him out of his head enough to think somewhat clearly. Kotarou was going to bring him back to the lab, not fuck him. Maybe he could appeal to him another way.

“Please, angel, Kotarou. I don’t want to go back to the lab.” Aziphem forced his breath to calm, unfortunately with the help of the angel’s gentle back rubs. “And—I don’t want you to fuck me.”

“I assumed you did not want that.” Kotarou’s voice was soothing, comforting even, allowing Aziphem to breathe a little better. They were at least on the same page. “You are not in a healthy mental state to be making decisions about what you want and it would be irresponsible of me to assume you know what you’re asking for.”

“I am fine. Just—I… I like being fed. I like having clothes. I like being in your home. And I like all the other privileges you’ve given me today.”

“I know. And you’re learning well how to earn them.” Kotarou’s hand trailed up, running through Aziphem’s hair and moving to gently stroke the sensitive horn. Reluctantly, Aziphem leaned into it, closing his black eyes. “You can be good for me in the lab, and you will earn these privileges again.”

“But you’re trying to make me human again—angel—I don’t want to be human,” Aziphem managed to murmur, rubbing his eyes to clear the blurry tears that had started to form again.

“This is how humans are treated.I thought you liked this.”

The weight of those words hung over the kitchen table, remaining even as the angel removed his hand. He did like feeling human. Aziphem’s thoughts jumbled around in his brain, fighting for dominance. For the last five years—no, for as long as he had been a demon, he had been defiant. What was he supposed to do now?

Just give in.

Memories of his human life pushed to the forefront of his mind, how he had bent to Daunte’s abuse and became complacent. Before that, how he let his boyfriends control him. It hurt to bend and it hurt to break, but now that he saw what it could be...

It will be different this time.

“How about I let you have the rest of the day here?” Kotarou’s voice broke his spiraling thoughts, dragging Aziphem back to reality and returning him to see the angel place a cup in front of him. Coffee. A bribe. One Aziphem planned to accept. “Finish your breakfast, walk around, you can even go outside in the garden. You’ll know if you’re getting too close to the barrier.”

Aziphem tried to mumble a thanks but the words stuck in his throat. Lifting the coffee, he sipped it quietly before speaking. “Why are you doing this? This is more than just guilt.”

“You’re right.” Kotarou moved his dishes to the small sink before facing Aziphem again. “But, seeing as you are in no shape to fight, I want to take advantage of this. Give you a taste of what you can get if you behave. An… incentive to work with me in the lab. If you like what you get today, and you let me run this week of tests, I will let you spend the weekend here. You’ll get the guest bedroom and I will cook for you. Think on it.”

Kotarou quietly turned, stepping out of the doorway before poking his head back in for one last remark. “This is how humans get treated. And the more successful my research is, the more human you are, the more I promise you will get to enjoy this.”

With that, Aziphem was alone again with his thoughts.

He wanted to be mad, of course. His first thought was to hurl the glazed ceramic mug at the wall and shatter it, but that would involve spilling his coffee. And get him sent back early.

Maybe he wanted to be sent back.

It was easier to fight in the labs, when he had nothing to lose. Pain brought out the spark in him that fueled his constant defiance, made it so he could always hate that fucking angel. But here? He had coffee to lose. Food. Clothes. That comfort smothered his spark and for a moment, he had to wonder.

Was this worth becoming human again?

NSFW tag: @burntcoffeewhump @quietly-by-myself @andithewhumper @whumpsday @whump-queen @kixngiggles @emmettnet @honeybees-125 @just-a-silly-little-whumper @whumpifi @lonesome--hunter @chaotic---calm @coyotehusk

#NSFWhump #NSFWhump writing #Aziphem #Kotarou

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pansy-picnics · 5 months

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SHE IS SO NERODIVERGENT OMG. i pretty much described the first few episodes to my friend as “rapunzel is autistic and no one else knows how to handle an autistic person” pffft. she’s just so. gosh. she’s so full of love :( she went through so much for her Entire life up until now but she’s still so full of love and passion and sometimes that’s what end up being her downfall, because no one else is taking the time to understand her and they misinterpret how she acts on her care for them. but she just wants to help people :((

SHES SOOO AUTISTIC AND THATS LIKE. HONESTLY I FEEL LIKE THATS ONE OF THE BEST PARTS OF HOW THE SHOW ENDED UP PORTRAYING HER bc it definitely has a lot of flaws but like. she has a lot of traits that neurotypical people would typically consider “childish” or “immature” but the show doesn’t infantilize her for it and as an autistic person thats something that makes me really warm and fuzzy inside…..i think she should be Weirder and i think everyone should love her for it!!!!! AND I THINK THEY DO!!!! i will never let go of the idea that cass and varian despite everything they went through will be in her life forever. they care way too deeply abt each other to just let go because of a misunderstanding on rapunzel’s part!!!!! also cass has a massive gay crush on her so she couldn’t remove her from her life even if she tried /j

nothing about rapunzel is neurotypical and i stand by that tbh. its not even just the missing social cues things its the way she’s so in touch with the world,,, like the way shes always barefoot bc shoes feel weird and restricting? like THAT’S AUTISM? literally i have an autistic friend who’s sensory seeking and she said the exact same thing SHE’S JUST AUTISTIC BRO

sorry i can actually go SO in depth on how exactly i think rapunzel’s autism presents. like she’s the kind of autistic who’s really soothed by deep pressure and thats what she always gives everyone big tight bear hugs bc gothel never let her do that but she’s just trying to share that comfort it always gives her. (varian is like this too so they always squeeze each other SOOO tight when they hug and it looks really uncomfortable from an outside perspective but they’re both THRILLED.) she’s the kind of person who has tons of vocal stims and is always bouncing around in some way. she bites people but like Lovingly. she loves weird smells like rubbing alcohol and people have to take it away from her bc they don’t want her to inhale the fumes for too long. when she was a kid she climbed all over EVERYTHING she climbed on the tower roof a lot too if it weren’t for gothel’s gaslighting she would’ve figured out a way to escape by the time she was like 6 years old. she’s hyper emphatic in the way that she grows super attached to inanimate objects. she enjoys trying the most batshit food combinations just to see what they taste like and she usually ends up enjoying them. she’s banned from the kitchen bc once she put ketchup on a hard boiled egg. she’s the kinda person who only uses swears for Special Occasions.

i actually have this one cassunzel fic bookmarked that’s mostly focused on autistic rapunzel and i hold it SOOOO close to my heart i think about it literally all the time ITS CANON TO ME OK. SHE HAS A COMFORT BLANKET AND ITS THE ONE SHE WAS WRAPPED IN WHEN GOTHEL TOOK HER FROM THE CASTLE…..IT HAS THE SUN CREST ON IT AND THATS HOW SHE STARTED PAINTING IT. IT MAKES ME SCREAM AND CRY AND THROW UP BC I HAD A COMFORT BLANKET WHEN I WAS A KID AND I COULDN’T SLEEP WITHOUT IT. AUGHHH.

rapunzel is the sweetest person in thw world i wholeheartedly believe everyone loves her. LIKE SHE BASICALLY REDEEMED *counting on my fingers* LIKE AT LEAST 6 CRIMINALS??? PROBABLY MORE??? and at the same time shes so Weird. like i think shes weird in a very specific way that doesn’t even have anything to do with the autism shes just kind of a freak bc like she grew up in a tower for 18 years ofc she is. like i think shes so infatuated with the world as a whole she loves Everything shed treat the worlds most venomous creature like a little puppy. whenever eugene is screaming about bugs in the castle shes like “awwwww little guy :(“ and goes and picks him up and brings him outside. shes like holding a tarantula the size of her hand like “eugene how could you be scared of this little face :(“ and eugene’s like “Blondie we need to burn this whole castle down”

its basically canon too like remember that one scene in beginnings where she brought that whole fucking wolf out from the woods and he just didn’t even bother her like they were chill. all animals are chill with rapunzel like that.

but also she probably ate bugs once like one day she got really bored in the tower and she saw pascal eating a bug and shes like “Oh huh i bet it must taste good” and so she just tried eating a couple of bugs because she could. and yknow what she probably liked it too but the only reason she doesn’t anymore is bc she feels bad for the bugs.

i also think she was weird in a sense that like…when she was in the tower something about her always just seemed a little Off yk? something about the way she stared or her body language…it was because of the abuse ofc. but like she generally had this very porcelain doll look to her. like she was so slim and frail (malnourished) and she was strangely pale and the few freckles over her nose just seemed Too perfect. everything about her just looked untouchable, unreal, almost uncanny…..something abt it just made you uneasy but you could never put your finger on Why. and i think it’s especially clear when people look at her like ten or so years down the line…she’s much healthier, shes got some more weight on her, she looks much more comfortable in her body. she always has the biggest grin on her face. she’s got a light tan and shes absolutely COVERED in freckles from head to toe. scars and birthmarks and stretch marks on her skin tell this story of the life she’s lived and what she’s seen. she’s covered in tattoos, all designed herself (because you cant convince me she wouldn’t go CRAZY as soon as she finds out about tattoos ok.) shes always bouncing around everywhere, theres happiness literally RADIATING from her and shes so bright it’s blinding….

GOD she makes me so emotional. she is just so full of love and joy……….she draws pascal with freckles so they match……her favorite color is all of them….she’d sacrifice her life for all of her friends any day. she totally gets all huffy when her loved ones try to care for her when shes sick because she doesn’t want them to get sick too. yk the way everyone talks abt princess diana like thats how everyone in the tangled universe talks abt rapunzel i feel. i’m just. FUCK. PEACE AND LOVE ON PLANET EARTH.

#rapunzel tag #pansy rambling again #sorry i have so mucj more in my head but its like almost 5 am bro im just vomiting this out rn #PPL ALWAYS EITHER INFANTALIZE OR VILLAINIZE HER IT DRIVES ME CRAZY.#LIKE GOD FORBID A WOMAN BE A LITTLE SILLY.

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tcwmatchmakingau · 8 months

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Take a Chance (Part 1)

Pairing: Crosshair x f!reader

Rating: General (but MDNI)

Summary: Crosshair finally caves and sets up an appointment with Right to Love. He doesn’t expect much out of it, but what he gets is softer and brighter than even he could ask for.

Warnings: Crosshair angst (because that’s a warning I guess); peep my matchmaker OC Tal, love them dearly; brotherly teasing

A/N: @wolffegirlsunite submitted a prompt about Crosshair at carnivals and I just kinda…ran with it. In this AU, the Citadel never happened, so Echo is not with the Batch.

WC: 3.2k

Crosshair had mastered the art of patience a long time ago. He had to; it was a requirement of his specialization as a sniper. Sitting for long, boring hours in a secured hideout, there had been times on missions where he didn’t move for hours, at minimum. One learned how to be patient when all one had was time to pass. He thrived in those situations. After all, it was what he was made for.

What he hadn’t yet mastered was the art of civilian life. He’d rather perch in the branches of some scraggly pine on some far-off Mid-Rim world, teeth chattering in his bucket from the cold, than sit here in this waiting room. Despite the facade this damned service had so clearly cultivated to be comforting, he felt on edge, nerves screaming at him. Soft music chimed pleasantly from the speakers hanging from the ceiling corners. Vanilla, warm and inviting, cloyed in his nose. Adorning the walls, right, cheerful posters touted sickeningly saccharine slogans. We’ll help you find your path! and At Right to Love, we’ll make sure your love is right for you!

His upper lip curled in the barest hint of a scowl. Karking hell, why had he let Wrecker talk him into this?

With a slight shake of his head, Crosshair refocused on the datapad resting in his lap. He was supposed to fill out this questionnaire to let the matchmakers do their job, but all he could think about was the vulnerability of it all. He had to just…give away personal information? Just like that? Kriff, even his brothers had given up getting him to talk about his feelings before he was ready.

Leading him to another worry, one he’d never admit out loud, and certainly wasn’t about to admit to himself. Was he ready for this?

His first impulse was, yes of course. He’s Crosshair, member of one of the most elite squadrons of clone troopers in the entire existence of the Grand Army of the Republic. Clone Force 99 didn’t back down from challenges, and had a 100% mission success rate.

Or at least, they did. When the GAR still existed. When the war still raged and when clones’ lives were valued less than dirt.

He’d answered exactly three of the twenty-five questions so far. The fourth question, “How would you best describe your personality?” presented options that felt so…restrictive. Was he a) shy and reserved, b) expressive and open, c) humorous but private, d) uncomplicated and easy-going, or e) other?

Crosshair had been labeled as “other” his entire life. Frustration simmered in his chest, hot and annoying.

Just as he was about to stand, chuck the datapad back at the receptionist, and storm out, the receptionist in question cleared her throat.

“You don’t have to answer every single question, darlin’,” she said, smacking her gum. “That’s just to help us get started.”

He felt the knot of anxiety in his chest loosen in spite of himself. “Anyone ever turn in a blank form?”

Her dark eyes met his, narrowed behind square spectacles, before she shook her head with a reluctant grin. “There’s a first time for everythin’. We’re all about firsts here.”

“Yeah.” He huffed, looking back down at the datapad. The rest of the questions were similarly vague and aggravating as the personality one, but by the time he reached the last one, he was surprised to find that he’d filled in nearly half of the responses.

Sweeping his gaze across the waiting room once more, he couldn’t help but pick out the imperfections, the way that that one paint stroke lifted some of the first coat underneath there by the corner, or the way that the ceiling tile above him only appeared symmetrical but every third one was slightly shorter, or the way that the receptionist’s eyeliner had one, tiny, nearly imperceptible gap where it had snagged over her skin. He found that the skin around his nail beds was dry and cracked, red and angry—a nervous habit he’d picked up shortly after the war ended.

Quit stalling, he snarled to himself.

The receptionist gave him a fleeting smile as he crossed the room to deposit the datapad on her desk. He wished she wouldn’t.

“One of our case workers will be with you shortly, dear,” she said.

He returned to his seat, silent, apprehensive.

He didn’t have to wait long; at least the receptionist was right about that. Not even fifteen minutes later, a short, kindly individual with a buzzcut and piercings pushed open the faux-wooden door leading to the back. Crosshair appraised their appearance quickly, an old habit. Black eyeliner on their bottom waterline, round, unframed glasses, a black T-shirt with some indie band Cross had never heard of: he hated to admit it, but the sight of someone dressed so casually put him at ease. Whatever he’d been expecting, it certainly wasn’t this.

“Crosshair?” they asked, as if there was anyone else in this damned waiting room.

Still, Crosshair rose, toothpick clenched between his teeth. Quiet as a wraith, he followed who he assumed would be his case worker down a labyrinth of hallways. Behind a few of the closed doors, the familiar tones of regs’ voices drifted to him, counterpointed by the unfamiliar strains of other case workers.

At last, his adorned case worker pushed open a door and gestured for Crosshair to enter first.

Slinking past, Crosshair took in every detail at once. Above the corner desk were at least a dozen framed holoscans, most of them featuring his mystery case worker and two others, a beaming brunette woman and a laid-back, dark-skinned man. Crystals of various colors, cuts, and properties sat scattered across the side table nearest the futon; a tapestry arched across the ceiling. One lone plant, a healthy looking thing with glossy castleton green leaves, breathed life into the room from one corner.

“I’m Tal,” the case worker said as they closed the door behind them. “Make yourself comfy. Or don’t. Everything here is under your control.”

Crosshair shot a glance at Tal, head tilting just slightly, so minutely that Tal probably missed it. He hesitated for just a moment before sinking into the futon, the silky black fabric cushioning him as he tucked his feet up.

“Tea?” Tal asked.

Poison, came the immediate, instinctive thought.

“No, thanks,” he said.

Tal shrugged. “Suit yourself.” As they poured steaming water into a waiting mug, they glanced at him. “So, Crosshair, here’s how this works. I’ll ask you a few questions, you can ask me some, and after our meeting, I’ll get to work matching you to some of our clients, yeah?”

“Fine.” Cross shifted the toothpick between his teeth, the poky bit softened and no longer quite so poky. He’d need to grab a fresh one soon.

For a moment, Cross simply watched as Tal scooped honey into their tea mug, spoon clinking softly as they stirred the drink. The faint scent of…was that chamomile? drifted to him, and he nearly wished he’d accepted the offer.

Nearly.

“Let’s start with the basics.” Tal set the mug down on a cork coaster. “Why are you here?”

Crosshair quirked an eyebrow, leveling his best unimpressed stare at Tal—who, to his surprise, matched Crosshair’s energy.

“That’s starting with the basics?”

Tal shrugged. “Would you rather I coerce answers on these blank questions?” They waggled a datapad in one hand.

Sucking on his teeth, all Crosshair could do was shake his head.

“Great, because I’m sure you hate having teeth pulled as much as I hate pulling them,” Tal said. “What brings you in?”

“My brother,” Crosshair said flatly. Not technically a lie.

“And is that Tech, Hunter, or Wrecker?”

He clamped down on the toothpick, the fragile wood snapping. “Wrecker.”

Tal typed on the datapad for a moment. “Got it. So, no other reason, nothing more self-motivated?”

“No.”

With a hum, Tal typed some more on the ’pad before setting it to the side. They took a tentative sip of their tea, a smile of satisfaction curling over their lips.

“Tell me if I get any of this wrong, m’kay?” Tal said. “The war ends last year. You and your brothers get to live a normal life, and you each try dating. Maybe it works for them, maybe it doesn’t, but it certainly doesn’t work for you. None of the people you go out with can get past the fact that you’re a sniper, or a science experiment, or just an ass. So you stop going out.

“But your brothers don’t. In fact, one by one, they make their way here, to this very office in fact, find themselves partners, and settle into the cushy civilian life you just can’t wrap your head around. You’re happy for them, because they’re your brothers. But you’re also annoyed by them, because they have what you just can’t seem to find.”

Crosshair bristled at the nonchalance with which this individual, this…observer, read him for filth. Removing the now-shattered toothpick from his mouth, Crosshair forced himself to go through the ritual of discarding the broken one, selecting a fresh one from the pouch at his belt, and slipping the dry wood into the pocket of his cheek.

He avoided Tal’s gaze the entire time. In their calculating gaze, Crosshair saw himself reflected.

“You got part of it wrong,” he eventually said. “I never tried in the first place.”

And it was true. He’d been…arrogant, more than usual, refusing to even entertain the idea of finding a fulfilling relationship outside of his vode. He’d seen the way people looked at him on the streets, even here in the capital, where no one should stand out. He couldn’t stomach the thought of having to put himself on parade just to find happiness.

“Well,” Tal said, “I can’t be right all of the time.”

A wry smile twisted Crosshair’s mouth. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad experience after all.

By the time that Crosshair left the RTL building, his stomach crawled with ants. He couldn’t tell if it was from nerves or excitement or some combination of both, but he couldn’t remember feeling so hopeful in a long, long time. Tal had given him their comm frequency and promised to answer any questions if Cross thought of them; and swore that as soon as they found him a match, they’d let him know. In return, Crosshair had given his word that he would think of an answer to the last question Tal had posed before their time was up. “What kind of date do you want to go on?”

Given that he’d never been on any, and certainly didn’t ingest media that portrayed such things, he hadn’t been able to give an answer. He hadn’t even wanted to lie, instead defaulting to his training, the instilled need to have the entire picture before making a decision. Kark, this meant he had to do research.

Climbing the stairs to the apartment he shared with his brothers, he took the time to school his expression into its usual blank mask. The last thing he needed was for any of them to catch a whiff of where he’d been. He hadn’t even told Wrecker he would go to the matchmaking service; he’d just…left in the middle of the morning after they had all gone their separate ways.

He lingered in the hall just long enough to determine who was already home. Judging by the raucous laughter, snide remarks, and grumbling complaints, it seemed all three of them were.

Great.

The door slid open and whooshed shut behind him as he stepped over the threshold. From the living room, Wrecker’s head peeked around the corner, a broad grin on his scarred face.

"Was wonderin’ where you went,” he called.

Cross ambled to the living room, pushed Wrecker back out of the way with one thin hand on his brother’s face. Laughing, Wrecker over-sold the push and landed squarely on his ass on the tile floor.

Plopping into the beige, worn-out recliner, Cross sighed, running a hand through his short silver hair. He’d need a haircut soon.

“Out,” he finally answered.

Hunter fixed him with a look, eyebrows scrunched. “‘Out’?”

Crosshair nodded once. Kriff, he should have just gone to his room, avoided this whole mess, but he knew his brothers; once they got on the trail of something, they couldn’t let it go.

Wrecker lightly kicked the recliner—thought a light kick from him meant that the chair still slid a few inches across the floor with an uncomfortable screech. Hunter winced from his spot on the couch.

“Did you go you-know-where?” Wrecker asked, voice in a stage-whisper, as if Hunter and Tech weren’t right kriffin’ there.

Cross rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I believe Wrecker is referring to the matchmaking service known as Right to Love, which has helped clones find life partners,” Tech interjected with a glance up from his datapad. “A service to which you have been incredibly averse.”

“Hey, I thought I was convincing!” Wrecker’s voice dripped with indignation. “Wasn’t I, Cross?”

Crosshair cut a glance at his older brother. “No.”

“Aww, Cross, you’re no fun,” Wrecker whined. He stood and lumbered to the kitchen.

Crosshair met Hunter’s gaze. Knowing his brother could probably smell the karking vanilla candle and chamomile tea on his clothes, he had tried walking through exhaust vents to douse the scent. But the way that Hunter’s eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring, set Crosshair’s heart sinking.

“Well,” Hunter said with a knowing look, “wherever you went, hope you had a good time.”

The rest of the evening passed quietly, the four of them settling into their usual routines. Dinner ate, holoseries watched, old stories swapped, the clock ticked by with an aching slowness. Even as his brothers recounted the latest triple-date ideas they’d had, he couldn’t help but fixate on the building anticipation in his limbs, a jittery, twitchy feeling that had him on edge. All he wanted to do was shut himself in his room and research.

As soon as the clock showed 10 PM he bid his brothers goodnight and forced himself to walk normally to his room. The second the door slid shut, he rushed to his desk and booted up his datapad, one of Tech’s old ones.

While the device blipped to life, he lowered himself into his desk chair and gazed at his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window, cast in ghostly blue from the ’pad homescreen. Eyes wide with apprehension, Crosshair almost didn’t recognize himself. He forced himself to look beyond the mirror image and focus on the scintillating lights of the ecumenopolis. Skyscrapers reached for the stars, lights dotting every floor in a mockery of the galaxy that laid beyond the polluted skies. Speeders whirred past, traffic lanes cruising steadily. Somewhere out there, came the unbidden thought, somewhere out there was the person for him.

He snapped the datapad shut.

Someone being right for him meant he was right for somebody, and that thought alone was too much to bear.

He went to bed trying to ignore the heated worm of jealousy burrowing into his spine at the sounds of his brothers’ laughter.

The next morning, he awoke to the insistent blip-blip-blip of his comlink. Peering with bleary eyes at the tiny screen, it took his sleep-addled brain a moment to parse together why an unsaved frequency was contacting him this early. A glance to the time revealed that it was, in fact, mid-morning. Still. Early for him.

A few possible matches, the message read. Would you like to come in and chat about them, have me send you their profiles, or just pick for you?

His eyes shot open, suddenly wide awake, as the message sunk in. Sitting upright in bed, he hesitated over his reply, thumbs dancing aimlessly over the keypad. This was sooner than he expected. The fact that there was more than one match made his stomach lurch—there was no way that was right.

A few? was what he ended up writing back.

Correct, came the reply. Then three bouncing dots appeared, Tal typing another message. There’s no rush. You’re in control here.

The reminder did little to calm Crosshair’s racing thoughts. Looking over at his reflection in the window, he grimaced at himself. He’d gone to sleep with his clothes on, his short hair spiked up on one side of his head from the awkward sleeping position he’d been in, and blanket marks criss-crossed his face. He at least needed a solid fifteen minutes to look put together, and then hopefully he would feel awake enough to compose a reasonable reply.

And so, fifteen minutes later, he perched on the edge of the living room recliner, comlink in hand as he stared down at the blinking cursor. He’d been given choices. So few people gave him choices, at least before the war ended. He decided he liked having options.

So absorbed in wracking his brain for a coherent response, he completely missed the tell-tale sounds of Wrecker sneaking up behind him until it was too late. His brother snatched the comlink out of his grasp. Cross reached for his brother, but Wrecker was faster than he looked and darted to the other side of the couch, nimble as a Nexu.

“Wrecker!” Crosshair growled. “Give. It. Back.”

Wrecker’s belly laugh echoed off the walls. “You’ve been actin’ weird since you got home. I wanna see why.” He glanced down at the comlink, lips moving as he silently read the messages to himself, then his mismatched eyes widened.

“You did go you-know-where!”

Crosshair sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If I say that I did, can I have my comlink back?”

“Maybe.”

“Kark, fine. Yes, I went. Now, give it back.” This time, as Cross strode forward to nick the comlink back, Wrecker let him, a ear-splitting grin breaking over his face.

Cross squinted, unease seeping into his veins at the mirthful glint in his brother’s eyes. “What did you do?”

He whipped the comlink up to his face and glared at the screen. There, in his latest sent messages: Pick for me!

Chuckling, but already backing away, Wrecker flashed him one final smirk before tearing down the hallway to his room. Crosshair sighed, shoulders deflating. Kark it all to hell, now he’d never hear the end of it.

The comlink bli-bli-b-b-blipped in his grasp as several messages came through at once. Groaning, he collapsed into the couch, head in his hands, determined to ignore the damned device, but as the notifications continued, he ground his teeth and peeked.

A torrent of messages from the group chat with his vode.

Crosshair’s going on a date!!!

I could have told you that. -Tech

Proud of you, vod’ika.

Does this mean we can go on QUADRUPLE dates!?!?!?!?

Calm down, Wrecker, let the man actually meet the person he’s being set up with before you start planning.

We’re gonna have so much fun!!!!

I can see why Crosshair chose not to reveal this to us. -Tech

And at the bottom of the notifications, one lone message from Tal: Great. I’ll send you information about your match as soon as it’s confirmed. Thank you for trusting me with this, Crosshair.

#tcw matchmaking au #clone matchmaking au #The Bad Batch #prompt response

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elysiumblue · 8 months

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Pick a card - What do you need to know? 🥴

Felt drawn to do a general reading asap so I did one. I don't really know what to write for the intro so maybe just jump straight to the reading lmao.

Remember, as this is a general reading, please take what resonates and leave the rest behind. Hope this reading can help you clear things up and provide you with the information you needed to move to a better place in life.

👇🏻 Pick a color you felt drawn to 👇🏻

And find the corresponding reading for you below!

Pile 1

You have the suspicion that someone is plotting on you and damn you're so right. You may feel that it's so draining to be with someone in your life as you always thinking that they're hating you, or hoping the worst for you. It feels like every day that the person in your social circle, or every moment you spend with that person is a torture, as you don't want to anger them or make them jealous of you (then plotting more crap on you). Even posting on social media feels like walking on thin ices. You feel really restricted and have to fight thru so many worries every time you want to do a thing, as you feel like they're watching.

However, even living in such a restrictive environment, you still want to become better. You hate to live in someone else's shadow, have the rest of your life controlled by others, or have to drag the weight of someone else's problems around for your whole life. You want to be better, be good enough to break free from the situation, and yeah, you're going to do it. And wait, even better, you're going to break free of the people or community that you don't want to care about anymore, and shine so brightly alone.

You may question how is it possible for you to pull this off, and I have to tell you that you have so much energy inside you, waiting for you to burn it and make something real big. It seems that you're always rejecting negativity, thinking that all they can do is to bring a big black fog to your life. However, the big pile of negativity can act as an excellent source of inspiration and motivation at the same time. For example, you can use your worries and sorrow as inspirations for art, and the fear of not going to make it/ pessimism to motivate you to put 120% effort, so you can make sure that you must and will succeed.

I can see that you may be deterred by the low quality of work and the lack of skills in the beginning. It seems that success is so far away and so unlikely to happen to you. However, you have to understand that you have to start somewhere, and no one is a master in the beginning of their journey. Even DaVinci needed to learn painting from someone in the beginning of his journey. Don't be deterred by the progress. As long as you keep trying, you are making progress every day. No matter how small the progress is, learn to appreciate it. If it's not motivating for you enough, then think of winning to spite those whose messing with you. Win so fucking hard so that they can realize how big of an L they're taking by not appreciating you in the past. Also, I heard that the harder you win, the faster those people will receive their karma? Is it motivating for you enough lol.

Pile 2

I can see this pile is so hopeless in getting a lover and a love reading is the least you want to hear about. But, love is on its way for you! You probably the type that believes that you will never find a lover in the rest of your life, and believe that you are absolutely fine and cool with it. However, you low key wish to get into a relationship at the same time, as you keep helping your friends in their relationships by giving them advices and listening to their vents. You kinda want to try it yourself but you really feel that it's too much effort and you're not wasting any energy on getting into trouble yourself. For some of you, I can also see that you've gone thru a real tough relationship in the past. That may even be a divorce for some of you. So getting into a relationship again is the last thing you want to do.

No matter how unwilling you want to be in a relationship, I can see that you're going to have the opportunity to meet a potential lover, as it's a reward for you for going thru and completing a cycle. You probably spent so much time to undo the pain of an event, or the thing may be so long ago that you don't even remember that it happened, and left an impact on you. No matter you remember you've done your work or not, you will be paid regardless as you did the work.

You may think that you are not hot enough for anyone to like you, and you also can't see anyone that will have the potential to develop any feelings towards you. However, it will just happen and you don't even have to do a thing to make it work. Don't sabotage it if this is actually what you hoped for. Don't complicate the situation by bringing the past to the present. You can act passive and take things slowly, so you can clear your doubt. As long as you understand that this is a whole new cycle and you're in a completely new chapter of your life, then you're fine.

Pile 3

You are obsessed with someone. If this is not your situation, then this may not be your pile, or maybe this is not even the reading for you. You are so obsessed with someone and you keep hoping and thinking that you can be in a romantic relationship with them. However, you feel that your connection is stuck, and stagnated, and you don't have the energy to push it forward even though you want things to work so badly.

Instead of pushing the connection forward, which is not an option as you don't have enough energy to pull it off, you may find yourself indulging in past memories with that person, and making decisions based on outdated assumptions. Some of you probably haven't talked for years, but you still thinking that they will just respond and go out on a date with you if you finally have the courage to talk to them, because you remember the time that you two got along so well years ago.

It may be a depressing news for you, but the thing you need to know is this connection is not going to anyway. It can be hard yo believe, but this is actually the best outcome for this connection. The obstacle, the big stop sign on the path, is to protect you from something worse. It may be the person is actually a shitty person, or you have a better future ahead of you instead of spending your time with that person.

Also, you really need this connection to die, as it's draining so much energy from you. You're lost and unable to even feel joy anymore. It seems that nothing matters anymore. You will find out that it's not the case, as you will discover lots of joy around you as soon as you try to pull yourself away from the obsession. Then, you will start to heal, and become the master of your own mind and emotions again.

It's so much better to be able to make yourself happy, instead of betting your happiness on others, as it's so difficult to make others do things the way you want them to. Having yourself to do the job instead can dramatically decrease the effort you have to spent on getting an enjoyable life.

(Some of you may be spamming that person's phone and they're thinking that you're annoying... But the real one will not feel annoyed by you. They will be so happy to hear from you... so, maybe they're really not the one.)

#pick a card #tarot reading #general tarot reading #this reading is sponsored by loki #Spotify

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aberooski · 2 months

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Fuck it.

Random Yu-Gi-Oh GX headcanon dump part 2!

Part 1

Once again in no particular order, just the order they pop out of my brain.

Most of my headcanons are upsetting so we'll see what gets released from the vault this time 👀

Atticus takes care of anyone and everyone but himself, to an almost self-destructive degree at times.

The J-Squad kept in touch with Chumley after he left

Atticus is 100% a theater kid

Of the Primary Color Trio(tm), Syrus is the only one they trust to cook. As we've established, Jaden will burn down the kitchen if he tries, and Hassleberry isn't a bad cook, but he's the kinda guy who will have something really good and then walk away and accidentally wreck it.

Hassleberry has never measured ingredients in his life. He doesn't know what tea/tablespoons or measuring cups are.

Bastion's top artist on Spotify is Frank Sinatra

After graduation Atticus and Alexis made Chazz write down a list of things/experiences he's never done or had because of how restrictively he was brought up and they make it their mission to make sure he can cross off everything on the list.

Alexis has painted Chazz's nails for him more than once because she does a cleaner job than he does. 💅

Alexis also taught Chazz how to do eye liner

Jim tells people Shirley is his seeing eye croc when they ask why he has her

After graduation, every single one of them eventually starts going to therapy

Jesse was the one who finally convinced Jaden to at least try therapy after he repeatedly insisted to everyone that he didn't need it. He did

This is kinda canon actually, but Hassleberry doesn't remember what happens when he goes dinosaur berserk mode. The headcanon part is that it's not just like fuzzy memories or anything, there are just straight up holes in his memory. And it really bothers him.

Yuki is Jaden's mom's last name. She's Japanese but his dad is American and when they got married, he took her name.

Eventually, Bastion does return from the other dimension with Tania. Everyone is happy to see him. No one ever forgot him.

Aster carries Echo's memory with him until the day he dies. Just like his father, he'll always remember the poor girl who was murdered for a card. The girl he couldn’t save.

Crowler's the teacher everybody added on Facebook and all that after graduation because they're not his students anymore so they're allowed to be friends with him on social media 🤭

Syrus really does love his brother a lot, bit therapy really opens his eyes to how so many of his personal issues and fears and anxieties and inhibitions stem from Zane and how badly he treated him and how badly it stifled him as a person and is able to bring himself to hold Zane accountable for it all so he can actually find a way to heal from it all and they can truly mend their relationship.

Jaden regrets not holding Zane accountable for how he treated Syrus past their duel in episode 8 where the subsequently drops the issue because of Zane's dueling skills.

Bastion can play the piano

Chazz is the most bisexual little man on the planet 💖💙💜 pretty sure we all agree on this one

Atticus is pan 💖💛💙

Jaden and Jesse have gone as Jed and Octavius for Halloween at least once

One year Atticus used the fact that Halloween is his birthday as an excuse to convince Chazz be Snow White for Halloween so they could go as Snow White and Prince Florian.

By the time they're grown up and he and Atticus are living together/married the only family member of his that Chazz still keeps any contact with is his mom

Aster has intense trust issues after learning the truth about The D and his father's death

Hassleberry tilts his head like a dog when he's confused

Syrus actually gets sick a lot. 🤒

Zane giving kids cards to stop them from bullying Syrus was a common occurrence when they were little kids

Before Zane went off to train at Sheppard's dojo and before he started abusing Syrus in his own ways they were actually decently close considering Zane's inherent emotional distance

Slade and Jagger hated Chazz from day one.

Alexis has nightmares about Atticus being taken away again after he comes back. If they're bad enough, she'll go to his dorm in the middle of the night to check on him and make sure that he's safe, and often ends up sleeping on his couch for the rest of the night.

Chazz knows his family is homophobic so after he cuts his ties with his dad and his brothers, he comes out to Crowler because he's the closest thing to a genuine father figure he's really ever had

Crowler officiates Chazz and Atticus's wedding 💍

Inspired by Yusei, Jaden got a motorcycle post Bonds Beyond Time. He thought it would impress Jesse. It did.

Jesse is the first one to get their driver's license

Axel is the only one who has never crashed their car

Axel will always come whenever anyone needs help. No matter who, and no matter how far away they are.

While working on Chazz's experiences list Atticus and Alexis took him to the mall. She left them unsupervised for a few minutes to go to the bathroom. When she came back, they were gone, and when she found them again, Chazz had his ears pierced. Atticus had taken him to Claire's. She will never leave them unsupervised again. 🤦‍♀️

I think I'll call this one here for now!

Maybe next year I'll come back with part 3 🤭

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celenawrites · 9 months

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TW - just a vent about fandom stuff.

I feel kinda sad about how some creators in the CoD fandom have now abandoned creating content for the game series due to the demanding nature of other fans who used to consume their content. (fics, art, etc)

Like, these artists/writers in the fandom write fanfics/create art, FOR FREE OF COST and dedicate SO MUCH TIME AND ENERGY to their craft despite not getting much in return, only to deal with senseless hate, ignorance, stupidity and get treated as content generation machines; instead of actual human beings with jobs and studies and friends and families that need their time and attention as well.

A lot of us folks who write or draw do this as a hobby. As an outlet for our creativity, and we find this community for the media we are currently fixated on and we create things inspired by it cuz it brings us joy. IT MAKES US HAPPY SO WE CREATE CONTENT FOR IT!!! And then to see the same fandom/community and their horrendous behaviour driving away the creators from the fandom and the media itself is just....sad. Very disheartening.

Like I miss so many of the creators who have just given up on CoD cuz of this issue. Their works have inspired me to start writing again. They make me wish I start learning how to draw and paint again too. Their works have touch my soul, and made me happy - gave me something to look forward to every day.

But I'd much rather they leave the fandom and take care of themselves and their life, than to succumb to this weird pressure fans and fan-content consumers put on them, y'know?

Plus recently, I've seen a lot of racist and stereotypical prejudices from some CoD fans (and even some creators). I know a lot of them are new to the fandom, I was too. But I took an active effort to learn more about this game series. (and it's an ongoing effort cuz I cannot afford to play the games so I have to settle for wiki articles, gameplays, and comics) And I see so many fans not give a shit about it. They treat these characters as blank canvases to fulfill their hypersexual fantasies. (I like me a good smut fic or two, don't get me wrong) But that just makes it impossible for newer fans to get to know more about the lore and the characters. I had just finished watching the campaign for MW, and let me tell you, there are so many complex missions, characters and storylines to explore and depict through fanfics, and it's insane so many people disregard it for their whimsies so easily. That will just stunt your growth as an artist/writer! Read up on the lore, watch the game plays(the OGs and the remakes!) , maybe even read the comics!!! I promise you won't regret it ever!!!

Also, please! For all that is holy, stop putting these complex fictional characters into restricted boxes and label them. That just makes them so one-dimensional. Like -

Soap is not always cheery and bubbly and your fellow bestie. Simon is not an abuser/emotionally dead asshole just because he has a hard time expressing his emotions like everyone else. König, despite the lack of storyline/lore we have on him, isn't an uwu social anxiety babygirl, damn it. Stop excluding Gaz from your HCs and fics! He's a complex man with so many interesting things to explore about his overall story and psyche as a part of 141. He's not always begging for Price's approval either, he can and has objected to how questionable their methods have been regarding their field/work. Stop excluding Gaz from 141 stuff! It makes you look like a POS, and a lot of the people who exclude him are doing so for....pretty racist reasons. As a POC, this shit sucks balls. Also stop stereotyping POC characters in CoD - Alejandro, Rudy, Valeria, Gaz, Farah....just stop. Their ethnicity or race should not deter you from writing about them in a way that doesn't come across as prejudiced and ill-informed.

Also, not necessarily a rant, but please consider/remember the fact that the military has always been a bit of a morally dubious field of work irl, and just cuz CoD is military-centric and features characters who work in the army or PMC and take out bad guys - that doesn't take away from the violent history military has and how they have contributed to the deterioration of many countries (mainly in the Middle East). Heck, even these characters in the CoD games have done extremely unethical things and employed treacherous methods in order to get the job done. These characters may be good people in fiction, but that doesn't mean that they have done great things or have always stayed morally pure. Explore the dubious nature of it all - explore how dark and harrowing it can be for them and for the people that unwittingly or knowingly get involved in their work. It's dark and twisted but it's crucial since it's inspired from our world and it's necessary for us as humans and as artists to explore such themes and analyse them! It's crucial for the soul!!!

#call of duty #cod:mw2 #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #captain john price #simon ghost riley #alex keller #farah karim #cod #alejandro vargas #valeria garza #rudolfo parra #fandom #tw vent #celena.rambles

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smokescreenimusprime · 1 year

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Hi hi! I’ve been reading your smokescreen stuff and I had a thought. Specifically, a thought for a sort of, alternate version of the early crash AU. Smokescreen crashes early, but he crashes in the middle of nowhere and is damaged. He goes into stasis for a while, and when he wakes up the only system he can use is his holoprpjector. (He’s also stuck, buried deep underground in the middle of the Nevada desert, so that’s no fun either)

But he has his holoprpjector, and spends the next several decades just…vibing around Jasper. Then, he meets Jack. And they’re roughly the same age, so they hit it off. (Tho Smokes always has to explain why he doesn’t eat, or drink, or seemingly use the bathroom, and all kinds of other fun excuses to keep Jack off his trail). But then the Kids get involved with Team Prime, and suddenly Smokescreen is being confronted with Cybertronians for the first time in decades (possibly even for the first time in centuries).

And now he just has to figure out how to tell the bots what his deal is. (He doesn’t like being buried and may or may not have developed an intense claustrophobia.)

OOOOOOOOOOOO I REALLY LIKE THAT 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

I hope you don't mind but my brain went kinda insane with this thought and low key came up with a mini fic plan for it so-

just. Smokescreen slowly fitting into the little human society built above him. Going to their schools, working their jobs, living their lives. Maybe the first few times he lives the lives, he isn't perfect. He'll slip up and forget certain details about himself, or he'll be a bit too fast or strong and in such a small town rumours spread quickly

In his first lifetime as a human, Smokescreen kept to himself. He acted the way he always did, but kept to himself and watched from afar to learn more about humanity. He enrolled himself at Jasper High, got a job, bought a small apartment to call his own and did his best to ignore the pointed rumours and whispers from behind his back. For as amazing as humans could be, at times they could be just as cruel as the bots back home

it's a lot of stumbling and learning and making mistakes and he doesn't have any friends, but it's a step up to being alone in the quiet dark of his stasis pod, so he'll take it. He lives through his human's life, working, creating, starting hobbies, and so much more. The freedom to do things just for the sake of doing, of being allowed to pursue any job he chose without legal limitations, of being able to draw and paint and sing without countless rules and segregations preventing him....... it's freeing in a way he didn't know he'd been restricted

his 2nd life went much smoother, with a lot of the Nuances Of Being Human having been figured out. He had some difficulties "faking" his death since driving off into the desert with all his belongings then returning in the same vehicle with the same belongings would raise more rumours than he'd like to deal with, so he ends up packing all his important things and trinkets into boxes, gets a moving company to take them away, "dies" (he just messes with the settings on his holoform and waits for his body to be buried/cremated before dissipating it), moves in a few weeks later with a new identity and has the same moving company bring his stuff back

his 3rd life was more of the same, and not a whole lot stood out. He socialised better with other humans, but most of the bonds had had were kept at a bit of a distance. The fact he couldn't go super far from Jasper severely limited his hang out options since it's not exactly the entertainment capital of the world, but he makes do

his 4th life was actually cut short, which he's endlessly salty about. He managed to make it to his late 20s/early 30s, and this time around he wanted to experiment a bit. Specifically, he wanted to try street racing. Human cars were really starting to get interesting, and he wanted in. It had been far too long since he last raced, and while he wasn't going to be the one on the road, being behind the wheel was the next best thing. And he's damn good driver too, one of the best in the circuits around Jasper, and he dominates the local races for years

........but yeah it doesn't go so well in the end. Smokescreen's avatar ends up getting into an accident, one that he'd definitely not be able to get away with survival and ends up having to cut things short. It was a mad scramble in the next few days to get his stuff somewhere safe, and he unfortunately wasn't able to get all of it. It took him almost three months to cool off enough to make another human. It's was..... definitely difficult recognising so many people with them not recognising him, but he managed

but then something interesting happens nearing the end of his 5th life

Smokescreen had gotten some new neighbours. That in itself wasn't anything new, he got new neighbours all the time. They were a young couple freshly married and nothing that really garnered extra attention. Smokescreen did end up running into the wife at the grocery store a few times, and that's how he ends up learning her name

June Darby

he sees her around a few more times and they make pleasant conversation. At times, Smokescreen thinks they might even be friends, but he's hesitant to put a label on it It's been so long since he's had a friend, he doesn't want to scare her off

and things are nice. They talk over coffee and walk through the park together, enjoying each other's company. June tells him about her life and Smokescreen tells her about his human one. They have fun, laugh, make jokes, and when June gets pregnant Smokescreen is ecstatic to meet the kid

but then...... then things took a turn for the worst

Smokescreen had never liked Mr.Darby. He had his suspicions, had his gut feelings, but never had anything other than that to go off of. He doesn't even know what about the man made him feel so uneasy, just that something about him, about how June would take every opportunity to get out of the house, about how she always looked so tired in a way medical school couldn't explain.......

everything comes crashing down one night. At 11pm he hears yelling outside his house and frantic banging on his door. He's on his feet in an instant, and he's horrified what he sees

June, crying and shaking with a bruise on her cheek and Mr.Darby trying to drag her away

in that moment, Smokescreen forgets he's supposed to be a frail old man and punches him so hard the man's jaw shatters

June spends the night with him. He gently guides her to the guest room and keeps watch all night. Sleep was simply a formality at this point, one he was more than willing to forgo for her safety

it was easy enough to get Mr.Darby to back off. Smokescreen had accumulated quite the fortune over the (technical) generations he's lived on Earth, especially since the food and water bills he paid amounted to almost nothing, and it was more than enough to pay for any legal fees to get the man arrested and evicted. June was of course still very shaken up from the whole ordeal, but Smokescreen doesn't hesitate to let her know she's welcome for as long as she'd like

and then June just kinda...... never ends up moving out. The trial kept her on edge and busy, then she had to get caught up on all the schooling she missed, then Jack was born, and while she always intended to move back it just...... never happened. And it wasn't like this was a bad thing, Smokescreen's home was more enough for the three of them, and neither minded being roommates. It was...... honestly comforting, having someone there

but Smokescreen knows he's running out of time. That he's only going to be able to realistically be around for so long before his age will start to draw attention, and as much as it kills him to abandon June and Jack he doesn't know what to do

so he stats planning for his next life, more than he has for every previous one combined, and for the first time, he decided to tie these two lives together

before, he always avoided any relations at all. It could become suspicious and lead to people poking their noses where they don't belong and asking questions he wasn't prepared to deal with. But….. he couldn't stand the thought of being forced to watch June and Jack from the sidelines. Of them not knowing him in his next life

it had been a few years since everything had gone down when Smokescreen finally puts his plan into action. The plan had been to tell June he needed to take care of some “Family Business” he’d thought was taken care of before his time ran out. That he wasn’t sure if he’d be back, he could feel that he was running out of time, but that no matter what he loved June and Jack

Jack was 7 years old when he said goodbye, and that memory would be burnt into his brain for the rest of his life. How Jack clung to his pant leg asking him not to go, how June's eyes got so big and shiny and how her hands would shake. It tore his spark to pieces to see them like that, and it just convinced him further

he left almost everything he had to the two of them. Aside from a small box of his most personal and important things, he left everything else to June in his “will,” including the house and all his money, which she at first tried to reject but Smokescreen was stubborn and insisted

And then he gets in his car with a tank full of gas and drives far off into the desert

it takes 3 weeks before he comes back, and it was the longest 3 weeks of his life. He wanted to rush back, wanted to be with June and Jack again and he was worrying himself sick over what could be happening to them, but he forced himself to wait

In his 6th life, Smokescreen is the most honest with himself he’d ever been since his 1st life. His holoform is what he thinks is comfortable and he makes himself as young as he can get away with (a newly 15 year old) because he wants as much time as possible with the two. His personality is who he truly is without any politeness or experimentation because above everything he wants to be as open and honest as he can with these two. He starts thinking of ways to describe his life, his Cybertronian life, in a way that would fit as a human because he wants them to know him, not a puppet he created

When he shows up in Jasper things…… go as he expected. Driving up in his “old” car definitely got some whispers and June’s suspicion was almost painful, but well within everything he planned. Smokescreen was ready to play the long game for this, anything it took to be a part of their lives again

he claims to be his previous life's great-nephew. That one of his grandparents and his old life used to be siblings, but had a falling out leading to his old life moving to Jasper and cutting all contact. A few weeks ago, Smokescreen had reached out to his "great-uncle" since things with his own parents weren't....... going super great and his grand-uncle was really the only family he felt would be sympathetic. However he over estimated just how much his grand uncle was willing to do for someone he didn't even really know, leading to him recommending Jasper as a place to stay and driving all the way to where he lived to give him his car

he also mentions that his grand uncle had talked about June a lot in the days before he died, and he could tell he really loved her (not in a romantic way). He'd already said his "last goodbyes" weeks ago, and while he did make sure they knew how much he cared...... he still feels like he hadn't said enough

after things slightly calm down after that, Smokescreen then gets ready to leave. After all, he's still technically a stranger to them and he's already accomplished his goal of making contact....... but then June insists he stay the night. After all, he's a 15 year old and she can't in good faith let him sleep in his car when she has a perfectly good bed available

reluctantly he accepts, but makes it clear he's going to make plans to move elsewhere. After all, this is June's home now and he doesn't want to intrude

.......but just like when he first took June in, his moving out never happens. He ends up being enrolled in school, babysits Jack when June's shifts run longer, help prepare food and before he knows it, they've become a family once again

a few years later when June asks if he'd like her to adopt him he nearly cries

from here, my thoughts are a bit more scattered. I have a couple misc ideas which I'm not fully sure how to go about but want to include somehow:

after he graduates this time, Smokescreen ends up working at the library for both a change of pace and some nostalgia, and he's really good at it

when Smokescreen left his 5th life, he gave Jack a little pendant he'd made some years back with Alpha Trion's symbol on it. Sort of a way to remember him by, and Jack rarely takes it off. It's eventually noticed by the Bots which sparks a bit of curiosity about Jack's older brother

Smokey is just as much in the dark about the Autobots as June is, however he'd had suspicions for it longer. Not specifically Cybertronian Interference, but defiantly that there was something going on

during the whole MECH Thing, Smokey ends up getting kidnapped in the house. However, things don't go as planned because Smokey isn't at all limited by normal human limitations. Initially they tried drugging him and knocking him out, but he only goes down when they hit him with a high powered taser which ends up REALLY fucking with his holoform which unfortunately gets their attention

the Autobot Base is thankfully just within Smokescreen's range, and he looses his SHIT. Unfortunately they can't free him just yet on account of the whole ass town on top of him, but the fact multiple someones know he's down there...... yeah he starts crying a bit

during the S2 finale, Smokescreen ends up being the one to stay behind in the base since..... well, he couldn't leave anyways. Might as well make sure everyone else can escape

#did I fuck with human timelines? maybe a bit but that's just because I didn't feel like looking things up-#first thoughts #initial resident #transformers #transformers prime #tfp #tfp smokescreen #smokescreen #tfp june #june darby #tfp jack #jack darby #autobots #kd answers #anon

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chromatic-lamina · 8 months

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I got quite a big reaction to this post on OPLA episode 7 and, although reduced, also on this post to episode 8 about how OPLA handled Nami's backstory. My main beef was the watering down and changing of Bellemère and Nojiko's roles, and if the reasons were time constraints, I still don't think they had to change them so much.

I liked the live action, and even the last two episodes, but (and I guess it's cos' they didn't know if there would be season 2), by reducing Nami's story by making Luffy the complete hero of her arc, I think it takes away from one of the fundamental concepts of One Piece.

Like, one reason why Law, Nami, etc. are not like Doffy, Arlong or Orochi is because they had a good parental/authority-figure/support, despite also having a bad parental/authority figure in their lives. It's not because of Luffy.

Zoro had Kuina (and Koushirou was not a tyrant), Usopp, Kaya, Sanji, Zeff, so why not keep Bellemère and Nojiko in these roles for Nami? Bellemère is the standard Hollywood protective Mum in OPLA, but she's not the hardcore One Piece Bellemère we know and who Nami takes after in many ways.

I don't mind the smaller details being dropped, but in the two scenes that they kept, I don't feel they needed to be changed from canon (in Bellemère intiially facing down Arlong, and in her defending Nami in her own way against Genzo and also sassing and flirting with Genzo. Nami's fingers being crossed behind her back kinda hinted at it, but not overt enough). And I think they could've had a villager diss Nami as much as having Nojiko do this. One reason Nami is Nami is she had Nojiko (and the villager's covert) support.

I'm guessing having Nojiko play the accusatory role dovetailed the story somewhat, but it leaves Nami's character flatter than the other three because it paints her as struggling, isolated and completely alone, before Luffy turned up. She was, her situation was dire, but she knew she was loved by some, and her care for them drove her. Oda lays the tragedy on thick, but he's also kind nuanced with it. I don't know that OPLA painting Nami as such an individual/isolated player tapped into that.

I think one of Luffy's greatest strengths is that he believes that his nakama and associates are the person that their good parental figure believed them to be. SO, I guess Luffy lets them believe in the dreams that circumstances have hindered, and makes it easier for them to pursue those dreams and to smile by removing those circumstances (or helping to remove them), but they were working hard to be good people in their own way anyway. I write about smiles in that second post above, btw. Also something missing from Nami's backstory. However, Luffy is/was not the sole person who believes in them.

BUT, overall, I really liked the series, and do understand the restrictions of live action as opposed to a weekly manga.

#one piece #one piece live action #opla #nami one piece #monkey d. luffy #bellemère one piece #nojiko one piece #episode 7 opla #episode 8 opla #cocoyashi village #one piece live action spoilers #opla spoilers #chromalami #chromamuesli #chromameta #one piece meta #op meta #opmeta #long post

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fanficgirly18 · 7 months

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Laughing Jack x Female Chubby Reader| Part 1

_________________

There wasn't enough space. You realized you were boxed in from behind and both sides. In front two silver eyes stared into yours. A lean chest pressed against your own.

As your eyes adjusted to the dark you saw those irises belonged to a creepy clown. His laced collar was touching your neck and chin. His pointy nose nearly touched your own.

And his figure loomed over you in this restricted area. This was a box? You could see three close walls behind him. He didn't look the slightest bit nervous. He was definitely tall but his long limbs were like rubber and could bend in inhumane ways, by the sides of your head. Kinda like a big toy stuffed in a drawer.

"Hi," he said, with a slight rasp.

You couldn't respond. You were terrified, shocked and definitely confused.

"Don't panic," he cooed, moving his bendable arm in another position to caress your cheeks with claws, "The game hasn't even started, sweets."

You shrank from his touch.

"Who are you?" you asked.

"Laughing Jack!"

He raised his voice, even though he was crammed right infront of you.

Your eyes shifted to this small boxed room.

"Why am I here?"

"Because I got more or less bored of killing children."

He said that so causally you had to do a double take.

"You KILL kids?," you blurt out.

His eyes sparked with a malicious grin.

"Of course! I rip them apart like little dolls for the girlies, paint my toys with their blood, watch their families fall apart. Any other questions?"

You didn't say anything.

"I'll take that as a no. Alright, now I have a question. You know what the game is?"

"W..what?" you whispered.

"The game is...."

His friendly grin turned into a sly smile.

"That until you feel comfortable with your body you're stuck in here with me."

Your stomach plummeted.

Whether you were claustrophobic or not- you definitely didn't feel comfortable sharing air with a child murdering clown. But also you did not admire your body. I mean you were chubby.

"Self acceptance is a slow process but I would recommend you hurry it up."

The clown was staring right at you now and into your soul.

"Because being here so close to a pretty gal, such as yourself- it's sometimes hard for a me to control myself. You get my drift, sweet bits?

'Oh no' or something similar to that came to your mind.

You tried to think through your sudden terror.

'I love my body?'

'I LOVE my body.'

'I kinda love my body.'

'I sorta kinda love my body.'

Nothing worked.

Creak.

The wooden floor beneath creaked as the clown leaned forward.

"Sweets..."

He gave you a lecherous smirk. You quickly tried to turn your head but he grabbed your face. He forced his lips on yours.

They were cracked and dry. You wouldn't kiss back. He pulled away his mouth still close to yours.

"Come on, kiss me..."

“N...NO-”

As soon as you opened your mouth his tongue was allowed to have access in. Your spit mixed. His saliva tasted- sweet. Almost like candy.

His collar dragged on your skin as he shifted his claws to your thunder thighs, holding them up, as he kissed you.

You couldn't fight back.

His rough tongue was now practically down your throat and your own tongue helplessly brushed against it. He grinded against you. You could feel something began to grow down there.

Oh no.

His claws released your thighs and you heard his pants unzip.

"I'm so ready, sweets... “

NO!

Oh god.

I DO LOVE MY BODY!

I LOVE MYSELF.

_________________

You woke up.

#laughing jack #chubby reader #laughing jack x reader #laughing jack x you #x reader series #female reader #lj #horror #creepypasta fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic

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delopsia · 10 months

Note

i don’t remember if we ever see rhett’s truck parked in with the rest of his family’s, but wouldn’t it be interesting* (*sad) that he parks so far away because growing up he used to just up and leave? like, go for drives whenever he wanted just around wabang or the surrounding rural roads and whatnot? maybe even to the next town or towns over if it was early enough and had free time? never too alarmingly far away, but just to get away because he finally could? he bought that truck fair and square with his own money and his own labor.

he made royal (specifically) and cecilia nervous with his coming and going.

he always got his work and his chores done, and was always (mostly) at school when he needed to be, so they didn’t really have grounds to punish him. but one day cecilia brought it up like “rhett we’d like you to stay in tonight, okay? no more driving around at all hours...”

rhett just kinda rolls his eyes and nods to humor her, like, i’m eighteen now, ma.

until he goes out that night because he can’t sleep and sees he’s been boxed in.

the visual of it at first is jarring because cecilia had been so calm in her request that he didn’t realize it was actually a demand? or maybe she didn’t trust him to listen so she had the rest of their family try to physically keep him there at home with them...

it took a little maneuvering; he hit perry’s truck behind him and just barely missed the front edge of the house, but he got out—and maybe he stayed out? maybe it was summer vacation and he stayed with a friend from school who was still around.

cecilia did worry about where her youngest was, while ultimately being preoccupied with amy—but royal? royal just realized how much harder it was going to be to keep rhett down.

Now this is a hell of a concept omg 🌷forgive me, I got...a little too carried away with the concept of Rhett running away from home 💃

There's a very, very brief instance in episode 5 when Cecelia catches Autumn snooping around in their house, where you can very briefly see Rhett's truck sitting next to Cecelia's. But I think that's the only time he parks near them? And it's the middle of the day, so he may not even be parked there for long.

I only knew this because a while back, I spent a few hours trying to identify the make and year of his truck. General consensus: It's a 2nd Gen GMC Sierra 1500, made between 1999 and 2006. Regular cab with Indigo Blue Metallic paint.

Rhett just? Out? Wandering around in his truck? Finally, no longer restricted to the few miles his old horse and his own two feet can take him? 😭 Behind the wheel of his old new truck is the most amount of control he's ever had in his life; Royal isn't there to chastise him for small details, Cecelia isn't nervously breathing down his neck, doesn't have to worry about Perry reporting him to Royal. He's free to explore for the first time, venturing down roads just to see where they take him,

I like to think he was clever and made sure the vehicle was put in his name so that his parents couldn't take it and hold it over his head for punishment. And he's lucky he did it because Royal's grappling for control over him again, loading him down with extra work in hopes of tiring him into staying home, and Cecelia's of the 'you're up to no good if you're out past 8PM' mindset.

And now, all of a sudden, the ladies in her bible study are talking about how someone saw Rhett at the gas station at 11PM, saying how the devil is getting ahold of her youngest. And Cecelia's poor religious heart is so worried about what others think of her parenting that she tightens the reins on Rhett. But Rhett's always been one to resist, so while he's in the shower, the rest of the Abbotts play a game of car shuffle and box him in.

The problem is that they've literally raised their boys to use their heads to get out of a bind...and that morning, Cecelia walks into the kitchen to find Perry just "😑told you it wouldn't work." And a part of me thinks that Perry saw him leave, but this is one of his rare moments where he understands just how suffocating their parents can be, so he lets Rhett go. And at the end of the day, he's got a toddler to look after; he doesn't have the time nor the energy to police his grown-ass, little brother.

Omg, wait, wait, wait, Rhett, having a little summer adventure? 💃

I have this useless little headcanon that, because of Rhett having a June birthday, he was one of the youngest in his grade. He didn't turn eighteen until nearly a month after he'd graduated from high school, and that is the only reason he graduated in the first place. So maybe this gives him a big, "Well, I'm eighteen now. I can do whatever the hell I want!" moment.

As soon as he realized he was boxed in, he packed a bag and left with the intention of never coming back ❤ He crashes on a friend's couch for a few nights before wandering out into the world. Venturing down strange highways and into cities he's never seen before, and within a few weeks, makes a connection that gets him a job at a cattle ranch. Pays better than Royal ever did, and he makes a new friend that helps him sneak back to Wabang to nab his horse. There isn't a way in hell that he's leaving his baby back there for long.

He stays there for months, doing his own thing and feeling sore about how he left things back home. But he's enjoying himself. Taking late-night rides with new friends, exploring new places and things. He takes up steer wrestling, some old timer teaches him to play the harmonica, and he tries sushi for the first time.

Back at home, Cecelia reports him as missing because once he came back for his horse, it became very clear that he wasn't planning on coming back. Lying to the police isn't new for them, and they manage to construe a story that gets Wabang PD looking for Rhett.

Rodeo season is the only reason they find him because the one thing eighteen-year-old Rhett cannot give up is bull-riding. And who would have thought that a big News station would be covering one night and that he would wind up being broadcast on every television in the area? Once the police lead Royal to where Rhett's been hiding staying, it's all over.

And maybe the reason he sleeps in his truck is because he's clinging to that little taste of freedom he had when he just turned eighteen...

💃💃🏻💃🏼💃🏽💃🏾💃🏿

#rhett abbott #delgato's asks #outer range #outer range amazon #rhett abbott outer range #rhett abbott headcanons #💐#milesmillergf

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minsungjinho · 8 months

Text

restricted - Hyunjin x Reader

18+ MDNI ~ feedback always appreciated also let me know if I should make a part two word count: 9.1K genre: strangers to lovers, travel situationship warnings below the cut

warnings: cock warming, choking, pet names, dom!hyunjin, body worship(?), swearing, after care, unprotected sex (wrap your willys), fainting, rope play, rope binding and restricting, odontophilia aka biting, degrading kinda, the opposite of pulling out (please dont), orgasm control, lots of dirty talk, let me know if I missed any :3

Your skin was feverishly hot. Cheeks and ears bright red at the exposing position this crazy artist had you in. Naked, like completely bare, tied, and shaking from the knees at how long you’ve been there. How did you even get into this mess in the first place?

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Bills were due once again, and just after barely catching up to last month's expenses you found yourself in quite the predicament once again. Your part-time job wasn’t enough to cover all of your bills, let alone put food in your fridge. College + Working + Trying to work on your own hobby = completely broke.

You requested extra hours at work, but you were only able to add a couple of hours to various shifts which wasn’t going to cut it. You reached out to your school, perhaps there was a way to make money there such as working in the cafeteria, cleaning classrooms, or picking for trash in the common grounds. Another dead end, realizing how many other students were in the same boat as you.

You left your number on the bulletin board of the office after asking for work through the college, hoping maybe someone would need help with something, anything that could keep you from being borderline homeless. You took the long way home, strolling through parks and neighborhoods trying to sift through your thoughts on extra ways to make money.

It was another night of ramen and frozen broccoli, two cheap foods that never go bad. You were scrolling all sorts of job apps, even Facebook pages for people that need extra help around town. You tapped away at the screen all night. While eating, while bathing, and getting ready for bed- until you fell asleep.

The next three days were classes in the morning, a part-time job in the evening, and endless scrolling on your phone once you got home at night. It felt hopeless, and unimaginably useless to try and keep living by yourself without help from your family. You were ready to throw in the towel and move back home.

It wasn’t until the following day that you saw a glimpse of light at the end of the tunnel, a hail mary, or a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity- you could call it. A fellow artist in your painting class had overheard some upperclassmen talk about an artist at the school who was recruiting a model but with very specific requirements. Has to be this tall, that build, these colored eyes, this colored hair, and so on and so forth.

You were able to find the artist who was requesting a model through crowd-sourcing around campus. He was rarely at the school, only for a select few classes that were mostly one-on-one with the professor. He was already famed for his skill and most especially his parents. Photographers with more experience and ability than almost anyone else in the world. They were retired, of course at an early age like most achieved artists, but apparently very intent on making their only son a prodigy of the arts as well.

That night you set up a small corner of your apartment with a white sheet backdrop, taking headshots and pictures of your body’s shape- clothed obviously. You figured if you were going to indulge in his request while knowing how picky he is, you might as well be prepared. You printed them out the next morning at the school's library, arriving extra early so no one would see your weird attempt at a modeling resume.

Watching out the window as the pictures printed you noticed a man walking into the building, a large bag in hand with a coffee in the other. He walked tall, muscularly lanky, and yet handsome as hell. His dark brown hair came down to his shoulders, slicked back without gel as if he were born with that hairstyle. Putting the pieces together, you remembered the description of the talented artist and bolted out of the library with your pictures in hand.

Extraordinary good looks? Check. Luscious brown hair and plump lips? Double check. A toned yet skinny body? Tall? For sure. You knew it was him, Hwang Hyunjin, the son of the most talented photographers out there. You raced through the mostly empty halls, hoping to catch him before his classes. Bolting up the stairs, you make your way toward the Fine Arts wing of the campus, finding him waiting outside of a studio's door.

He was sipping his coffee, presumably an iced Americano judging on the color. It wasn’t until he could hear your panting breaths from running that he noticed you, judgementally looking you up and down before you spoke.

“You’re.. Looking for a model.. Right?” You managed to squeak out in between breaths.

He removed his lips from the straw of his drink, and man was everyone right about how plush they were. He nodded, accepting the freshly printed pictures you offered him and thoroughly examining them. He wasn’t looking at anything in particular, but almost looking through the pictures- seeing the potential you have and what he could do with a body like yours.

He looked at you, inspecting your features, how long your legs were, if your chest was too big or too small, how far apart your eyes were from the bridge of your nose, the width of your hips, all of the things that would make you uncomfortable if you hadn’t known he was an artist.

“Let me think about it.” That was all he said to you within the three-minute exchange. Your heart dropped into your stomach at his words, feeling silly that he would blindly accept your offer. It wasn’t as if you were expecting a flat-out yes, but you weren’t mentally prepared for this outcome.

You took a page from him, flipping it around and writing your number on the back of the picture along with your name. “I’ll do anything.” You pleaded. “Just let me know.” You handed the print back to him before flashing a weak smile, having to look up in order for him to see you due to the height difference.

You walk past him through the art wing, opening the last door at the end of the hallway- which was the room for painting classes where you were spending most of your time this semester. You flipped the lights on, letting the door close behind you with a soft thud. The room was never locked, and even though you didn’t have a class until much later in the morning you decided to get some work done in the hope of finishing a project early.

You took your apron off of its hook, wrapping and tying the string around your waist. It was a cooler day, the middle of autumn, so you decided a nice thick sweater would be a good option for your outfit. It didn’t flatter you though, it didn’t indicate how thin of a waist you had or the hourglass shape that hid underneath.

You pulled your hair into a messy bun, letting the fallen strands hang with little to no care. You had walked over to your easel, looking at the work you had done the day before. You were about to walk over to the sink and counters, getting everything you needed to start painting before the door opened behind you.

It was him, the famous, dreamy-looking man who was walking over to you with a serious expression. “What does ‘anything’ mean to you?” He asked once getting only two or three inches away. His eyes narrowed as he looked down at you, head cocked slightly to the side with interest.

“Anything means anything.” You state, feeling a bit intimidated at how fast he came toward you. “If you want me to jump into the lake in this freezing weather just to prove myself, I will. If you want me to dress like a clown, I will. If you want me to-”

“That’s not what I mean, darling, what I’m thinking of has nothing to do with proving yourself.” He backs away from you after his interruption, leaning against a cabinet. “I’m assuming you don’t know what kind of art I do.” Hyunjin crosses his arms and eyes you up and down once more.

“Well, I know you mainly use charcoal as your medium.” You start, feeling embarrassed that you didn’t actually know that much about him. “I’ve seen some of your paintings too, but that's about it.” You copy his motions, crossing your arms as he nods his head.

“Nude. I do nude charcoal drawings and nude paintings.” He grins as he watches your face change color. This was unbeknownst to you, no one had said anything about this when you asked all around about this guy. You shake your head at the embarrassment, shoving it from your mind.

“That's fine, that still sits under the category of ‘anything’.” He looks at you with an amused expression, running his tongue along his bottom lip before biting it with a smile.

“Mmm, okay.” He puffs his chest and lifts his body back into a straight standing position. “This weekend then, the location is a bit far away but I’ll drive us there.” You uncross your arms, letting them fall to your sides as you hear his approval.

“Before that though, I’m going to text you some examples of my work. If it’s something you think you can handle, then send me your banking info and I’ll send the first half of your pay.” He was still grinning, an egotistical one that he actually seemed to deserve based on his looks alone.

You nodded in response, still taking in and processing everything he said. He walked toward the door, opening it halfway before turning back to look at you. “You look good in that apron.” Was all he said before closing the door behind him.

In complete shock and disbelief, you sit in the closest chair you can find while trying to take in all of the info. “He actually said yes.” Was all that ran through your brain for the rest of the day, excitedly awaiting for his text.

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Your classes were completed today, and you didn’t have a shift at your part-time job so you rushed home to eagerly pack some of your belongings for the trip in two days' time. Once you packed almost all of your necessities, you hopped in the shower and basked in the warm water that steamed up the whole room.

A ding could be heard from your bedroom where your phone was charging, causing you to hastily finish your shower and rush to check if it was from Hyunjin. To your surprise, he sent over 15 pictures of his work, most of them charcoal drawings but some were paintings too. You open the message fully, finally able to see the detail in his work but not even getting past the second painting before the realization hits you.

Every single woman in these paintings is in a sexual position, either from a man’s point of view in the bed or a bystander. You keep scrolling through the photos, seeing women handcuffed to a bed or being bent over a table, all of it is lewd and makes you want to clean your eyes with soap. The only thing reassuring about these pieces of art was that each woman seemed to be having a great time, or at the very least comfortable.

You pondered the situation for quite some time, taking the night to mull over what kind of model shoot this actually is, and if it’s worth it. You woke up late in the morning, your alarm not going off from the lack of classes you were attending today. You sit up in your bed, only an oversized teeshirt covering your upper half as you rub your eyes.

Picking up your phone, you see two texts. One from your landlord, and the other from Hyunjin. You open the message from your landlord first, which ultimately stated that your rent money better be sent to him by Sunday or there would be a problem. You sighed and slumped back into your bed, knowing you were out of options.

You opened Hyunjin’s text, which only read “well?”, and nothing else. You kicked your feet into the bed, knowing you might regret accepting his offer- but doing exactly that. You sent over your bank info, mentally punching yourself in the face.

Within minutes you got a notification that money was sent to your account, your phone slipping from your hand at the insane amount he wired over. You texted him immediately, asking if he made a mistake- and he plainly texted back that he didn’t. If this was the first half of your pay- you might be able to pay three months' worth of rent once the job was finished.

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You were in the car viewing the trees that had finished changing color and were now shedding their leaves. Quiet music played, and very few words were exchanged. It was about two hours away, deep into the middle of nowhere. You started feeling anxious, wondering if you made a mistake and perhaps he was actually a serial killer.

“My parents bought this cabin a few years ago but have only used it a handful of times,” He started, one hand on the wheel and the other holding his head with an elbow propped on the edge of the car door. “It felt like a waste, so I’ve sorta commandeered it to be my own studio.” This explanation eased some of your nerves but brought up more questions you wanted answers to.

Why did you start doing art? When did you start to take it seriously? Why charcoal? What would you be doing if not art? Is the cabin nice? Where do you get your looks from? Why use a live model rather than images online? Why choose me?

His answers were plain, very little thought put behind them.

Around the time I turned 4. When I turned 10. I like the way it feels in my hands. Probably some entry-level job. Very. Definitely my mom. Reasons. You’re beautiful.

By the time you had ended your questionnaire, you were pulling into a long driveway, secluded from any other cottages or homes in the area. You felt the redness of your ears lingering from his compliment towards you. Once the trees slipped from your view, the car was pushed into park in front of a beautiful, modern, yet homey log cabin. You couldn’t help the muttering of your amazement as you exited the car. Hyunjin pressed a button on the dash, the trunk of the SUV opening for him to grab your bags and his.

You couldn’t contain your excitement to see the inside, practically jumping up and down as he entered the passcode with the buttons on the electrical door lock. He opened the door and let you enter first, a small chivalrous gesture that you would remember. You slipped your shoes off in the doorway, taking in every detail of the way the walls were shifting slightly, the windows that were ever so slightly dusty from the lack of living in the goddamn house. You understood why people had vacation homes, but part of it felt so foreign and useless to you.

The cabin seemed to be two stories high, with a basic living area, half bathroom, kitchen and dining space downstairs, and bedrooms on the second. The first floor was very much an open concept, with no walls separating the rooms as the wooden floors ran their course through its entirety. There was very little furniture, which you expected for a house that wasn’t very lived in. A basic leather couch facing a TV mounted on the wall adjacent to it, a small dining room table with a bowl of fake fruits, and no small appliances or decor on the kitchen countertops.

Once you found the stairs leading to the second floor, you gestured at them as Hyunjin came into your sight- making sure it was okay to proceed. He nodded, tagging along right behind you with the bags in hand. You opened each door, finding two bedrooms, a master bathroom, and an office turned into an art studio. Neither bedroom looked used at all, each piece of furniture placed perfectly like an IKEA storefront.

He placed both bags of luggage onto the dresser of the master bedroom, making you tilt your head ever so slightly in confusion. You decided not to ask, or challenge him about it, seeing as you granted him the ‘anything’ part of the deal. You walk back downstairs as Hyunjin empties his clothes from his bag into the dresser, turning on a few lights and opening curtains to gain more lighting. You spread open a thick set of curtains that leads to a deck, and of course, you’re too curious to ignore it.

You open the sliding door, a breeze drafting past you before you step onto the porch. The wood beneath your bare feet is cold, Autumn has set in earlier here than in the city you live in. A couple of deck chairs inhabit the far left corner, but what really piqued your interest was the large hot tub on the opposite side, steam leaking from the sides of its covers.

Steps from behind you disrupted your thoughts, causing you to spin and find Hyunjin leaning against the doorway. “You never told me there was a hot tub.” You said with a hint of excitement. “I told you to bring swimwear, didn’t I?” He retorted, scoffing before entering the house once more. You followed closely behind, shutting the sliding glass behind you.

“We need to go to a store or something and get food for meals, ya know.” You didn’t make eye contact with him as you said this but rather spoke to the entire house instead.

“Already covered.” He said plainly, a knock on the door being heard from the front of the house.

You eyed him suspiciously, not following too closely behind as he answered the door. He shook his head, silently mocking you while you stalked behind him cautiously. As he swung the door ajar, you noticed no people on the steps but paper bags.

“Are you going to help me?” He asked with a cocky tone, leaning forward to grab a bag.

“Oh. Yeah.” You slid past him and grabbed a bag as well, repeating this a few times until there were none left to collect.

You were both gathered in the kitchen, emptying the contents of the bags onto the counters. When did he have time to place an order for groceries and what company would deliver them all the way out here? You pondered, sighing at the fact that it must be the perks of having money and slight fame to your family name.

“I wasn’t sure what you would like, so I got a bit of everything.” He said quietly, opening cabinets to store snacks in.

He was right, there was a little bit of everything in these bags; from classic American junk food to what seemed like ingredients for a fancy pasta dish. There were a couple of out-of-place items, such as chocolate syrup and whipped cream, though you didn’t pay any mind to that and expected there to be ice cream in one of the bags as well. This menial, married-couple-esque type of task made you feel more at ease with your stay here.

After putting everything away, Hyunjin went back upstairs to finish unpacking, you assumed. It was just about lunchtime, perhaps an hour later than the designated time to eat, however, you were very hungry and a snack wasn’t going to cut it. Unfamiliar with having real ingredients to work with rather than just ramen and frozen vegetables, you had been staring into the fridge for too long trying to think of something to make.

You had decided on something relatively simple, avocado toast and crackers with cheese. It took almost no time to prepare and left minimal dishes to be washed later. You pulled out your phone, scrolling through social media while eating. It was very quiet, almost too subtle in your opinion. Not to mention how oddly timed the groceries had arrived. Everything about this escapade seemed to be going too well.

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That night, with instruction from Hyunjin, you relaxed in preparation for the next day's activities. You were comfortably slumped into the hot tub, letting the jets drive into the skin of your back and neck. It relieves so much pressure and relaxes some of your muscles that got knotted together by the drive up here. You hum to yourself, enjoying the warmth and bubbles. The high of being immersed in the water for so long starts to make you feel heavy, enjoyably light-headed in fact.

You let yourself feel the bubbles dancing on your skin, little ones that cause you to shiver and big ones that float to the surface to end with a “pop”. The comfort of an eyes-closed, nighttime bath outside was something you’d never gotten to experience prior to this.

You stand up, letting the cool breeze of the woods cool you down slightly before reentering the 104-degree water. Sitting back down, you jolt against the walls of the tub, an oddly placed jet shooting water between your legs. It startled you, but not in a bad way. You figured Hyunjin was sleeping or at the very least lying in bed based on the windows upstairs being dark, and no lights on. You let your body relax loosely in the tub, slowly slipping back into the sturdy stream of water.

You didn’t move once your body found the sweet spot, not necessarily grinding or moving around the jet- but not removing yourself from its presence either. You tilted your head back, the pleasing sensation of aerated water contributing to the high from the heat. You let yourself sigh in contentment, not even loud enough to hear from five feet away.

The longer you sit there, the more pressure you feel builds up in your stomach. With the feeling of butterflies and sensitive skin from below the waist you push into the jet slowly, rocking your hips back and forth. Small, quaint moans leave your lips while you feel yourself about to release, your back arched slightly as you move. You imagine the head of a handsome man between your legs, eyes closed as you rock your hips.

“I told you to relax for the night, not to fuck yourself in my hot tub.” Cold hands grip at the tops of your shoulders, fingers just above the collarbone.

Your body tenses immediately, caught in the act after you assured yourself he would be asleep. You tilt your head back, seeing his eyes glaze over your body as your back rests against his stomach. Were his hands cold? Or was your skin just flaming hot from the water? He pushes you down, your ass slipping into the seat and your clit being flushed with pulsating water that makes you squirm.

“This is the punishment you get,” He holds you still, your body forced down onto the jet; overstimulating you so much that your legs twitch and shake in response. “for not letting me watch.”

He caresses the skin from your shoulder to your neck with one hand, the other keeping you firmly in place. He places his palm ever so gently around the front of your neck, feeling the vibrations in your throat while you moan in both pleasure and agony. It was too much, too much pressure building inside of you, too hot for your body to be emerged, and too embarrassing that he caught you out here.

“Be good and sit still.” His voice sounded lower than you’d typically heard it, but his casual manner toward this situation is what really had you puzzled. You tried your best not to move, raising your hips ever so slightly to relieve the constant fluttering feeling against your clit. His hand travels up your neck to your chin, forcing eye contact.

He looks at you from above, almost amused at your attempt to obey him. His hand rests against your chin, thumb sliding against your lower lip. He forces it through, opening your mouth for you and hooking his thumb in like a freshly caught fish.

With your lips sucking around his finger, he grins, unknowingly pleased at your response. You bite down gently, doe eyes staring back at him as he towers over you. The pressure inside of you is no longer able to be kept at bay, the buzzing in your ear becoming the only thing you hear once you start to ride your high. You shut your eyes tight, your face a scrunched-up mess as all of your muscles contract.

Your core begs to be touched, your inner walls squeezing around nothing has you more bothered than the man watching you have a ridiculously overpowering orgasm. Your moans of satisfaction change into grunts and whines from the lack of friction in your core. He notices this, quite early on, but chooses to ignore it. He has all the power over you. Hell, he could drown you right now if he was ever so inclined to. He pushed his thumb further past your lips, letting your tongue curl around it.

He released his grip on you, removing his digit and backing away from you. “Let’s save the rest for tomorrow,” he says through his teeth, obviously showing frustration and restraint. You watch him walk away and slam the sliding glass doors behind him. If it weren’t for the lack of noise you would have guessed he shattered it with how much force he put behind closing it.

Taking a deep breath you tried processing what had just occurred until something in the house caught your eye. You watch the lights slowly turn on upstairs, first the hallway light, then the bedroom, and finally the bathroom. You took this opportunity to dry yourself off quickly and get your things from the bedroom. Despite his anger and aggression, you felt safe from harm around him, seeing how gentle he truly is through his actions.

You jog quietly up the stairs, the shower running as you rummage through your bag for clothes. You figured your best bet would be to sleep in the other bedroom, or even on the couch downstairs to avoid an awkward conversation.

With only an oversized tee and a fresh pair of underwear slipped on, the water turns off, panic filling your chest. You gently put your luggage onto the floor, trying your best not to make any noise. With your hair still wet you sneakily climb into the bed and cover yourself almost completely with the heavy blanket. Hyunjin exits the bathroom as the air depletes from underneath the blanket, making it look like you are sound asleep, and have been for a few minutes. You could hear him shuffling around the room quietly, a couple of drawers opening and closing as he dressed himself.

A dip in the bed alerts you of his presence, clenching the blanket between your fingers with anxiety; bringing the small hairs behind your neck to rise. His body radiates heat from under the covers, unlike yours which is half dry and slightly shivering.

You try to mimic the breathing of a person in deep sleep, slow breaths that are steady and not too close together. This was difficult to achieve, your body betraying you with its little trembles due to the wetness of your hair. A TV is turned on, one you didn’t even know existed in this room until now. Hyunjin keeps the volume low; just barely being able to hear the voices coming through the screen. You both stayed like this for what felt like decades, with you pretending to be asleep and him doing whatever it was that he was doing.

An ample shiver rolled through your body like a wave on the beach, there was no way he didn’t notice that one.

“Hey, Y/N? Are you cold?” He gently nudges your shoulder while whispering oh so quietly.

You responded with what you thought was best, a sleepy groan and pulling your body into a loose fetal position. This was apparently not the best option, as it led you exactly where you didn’t want to be. He had pulled your body close to his by your waist, not quite spooning you with close contact but bringing you close enough for his body to warm you up. He untucked hair from your neck, letting it fall past his fingers onto the pillow.

“You don’t even know what you did to me,” he starts, drawing circles on your skin where your tee shirt left your shoulder exposed. “Had me rubbing one out in the shower for fuck’s sake.”

You could feel the boiling hot air leave his mouth as he spoke, your body soaking up every little ounce of heat possible from him.

“I bet you’re not even sorry.” His voice drops lower. “Or maybe you would be so sorry that you would allow me to fuck your face while on your knees begging for forgiveness.” He hisses, sucking on his teeth. “All of the things I hope to capture on canvas with you tomorrow… I hope you’ll be good and let me.” He pulls himself closer to you, his hard-on prodding you. You get goosebumps once again, though not for being cold this time, but by being incredibly turned on.

At some point in time, you fell asleep with his arm wrapped around your waist, his head resting on his arm with your bodies glued together. When you awoke, however, he was not behind you anymore but in front of you. Your arm wrapped around his chest and legs over his hips in a bear hug- your face nuzzled into the nape of his neck.

It was still dark outside, the stars and moon illuminating the room with the TV now turned off. You didn’t want to move, in fear of waking Hyunjin. His warmth was too much for you now, especially in tandem with the thick comforter surrounding you. Your skin was glistening with sweat, and you decided to very carefully, and slowly attempt to roll over away from him. It took you a few minutes to safely remove your body from his. He only stirred once, but not enough to wake up. Finally, in a more comfortable, and less hot sleeping position, you were able to fall back into a blissful dream.

The early morning glow let you know as soon as it was time to wake up, the sun shining in your eyes and blinding you temporarily as you awoke. You groaned and covered your face with the blanket, unwavering from your spot in bed. You stayed there for a little while, scrolling through TikTok and other apps until you felt you had enough energy to get up. You forgot about Hyunjin during this time, blissfully unaware when he was looking at you from the hallway.

“Hungry?” He questioned, dressed only in long pajama pants and slippers.

You sit up, looking him up and down and blushing not only at his bare chest and abdomen but the words he spoke to you last night when he assumed you were asleep. You answered with a simple ‘yes,’ and waited for him to walk downstairs before getting out from underneath the protective covers. You pulled on some sweatpants before going downstairs yourself, hair a disheveled mess and eyes still squinted halfway shut from sleep.

You sat on the couch, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and attempting to smooth out the stray hairs from your bedhead. Hyunjin walks in front of you, handing you a cup of coffee that was steaming from the mug. You shoot him a small smile and thank him, sipping at it while enjoying the view from the windows. A beautiful lake was less than a five-minute walk away, a trail leading to it from the backyard. Kayaks, small canoes, and a speed boat were tied up to the dock, covered with thick material to keep them safe from bad weather.

Hyunjin had whipped up a quick breakfast, calling for you to eat when it was ready. He had placed the plates of food on the square dining table, some pancakes stacked high with various toppings and sides. Bacon and eggs were on another plate, toast and jam on another. You marveled at the sight, mouth practically dripping with drool at such a feast.

You each ate more than you could handle, slumped into the chairs with hands on your stomachs. You had the awkward small talk that comes along with morning breakfast, slowly pushing into deeper topics as time went by. After enough time, there was no more delicate conversation but simple banter between new friends. After helping him clean up and dry the dishes he washed, you decided to hop in the shower to get the chlorine smell off of your skin from the night prior. You ran through yesterday's events in your head, mentally and physically facepalming at your actions.

You spent most of the day alone after that, sketching in your notebook, making lunch, and watching TV, all without the disruption of Hyunjin. You had called up to him from the bottom of the stairs to eat at lunch, to no avail, and left it at that. It was well past lunchtime, about 3 in the afternoon and you had become suspicious of what he could possibly be doing.

Walking upstairs, you checked the bedroom, and the bathroom, yet Hyunjin was still nowhere to be found. A light clattering noise was heard from the office-turned-studio, causing you to open the door just a crack. There he was, still in nothing but pajama pants in slippers while painting the view from the window just as you had done.

“I thought you only painted lewd things, what a surprise.” You chuckled and leaned into the doorframe, watching him jump at your words.

“You scared me,” He placed a hand on his chest, some woodsy colors of paint splattered on his skin.

“I did try calling up to you for lunch, but you didn’t answer.” You walked deeper into the room, eyeing his painting. “I must have been focused.” He put his palette down, and his brush in the coffee mug full of green, cloudy water. “I was just warming up.” He stretches his arms and back, sighing before walking over to you. “Are you ready?” He looked down at you, eyebrow cocked while awaiting your response.

You nodded, a sudden feeling of anxiety washing over you. He explained to you what he wanted, various poses and positions of your body for him to sketch first with pencil, then either using charcoal or paint to finalize it.

“What you’re wearing right now is good, but I’ll need you to take your bra off.” After you gave him a questioning look, he explained further. “They don’t look good in my paintings or drawings. It’s easier to just draw your chest naturally.” You followed his lead, slipping the bra off of your shoulders and pulling it from underneath the dress.

He abandoned his painting, grabbed a sketch pad and pencil, and guided you to the second bedroom. There were no pillows on this bed, only a white blanket covering its entirety, something you didn’t notice when you had explored the house yesterday. It sat maybe two and a half feet tall, the standard height of a queen-sized bed with a frame. He instructed you into your first pose, facing the bed at an angle- you had your right leg straightened out with your left knee planted onto the edge of the bed as if you were climbing onto it. You had pulled your cardigan down just barely lower than your shoulder blades, fingers gripping the fabric with your shoulders exposed.

He had you still yourself, posing like that for probably about ten minutes, long enough for your arms to cramp and your ankle to feel sore from supporting your weight on only that one leg. He assured you that he was almost done, rapidly etching his pencil against the paper.

This went on for a while, him sketching, you posing, no words exchanged beyond that. That was until each pose got more provocative, almost pornographic how he had you positioned. Hyunjin’s hands would touch you all over as he guided your limbs the way he wanted them to be. He would make little comments too, like how soft your skin was, how beautiful you looked in each pose, or how flexible you were.

“Do you bruise easily?” He asked casually; as if you being splayed out in front of him while being completely naked wasn’t bothering him in the slightest. He must just be really serious about his art.

“Yes and no.” You answered him, turning your head towards his voice. His hands were untangling a rope, his head nodding at your words.

“I guess we’ll find out now, won't we?” His voice was soft but his face showed other intentions. “You don't mind, right?” He asked, holding up the now untangled ropes. You shake your head, swallowing a gulp of air as he walks closer to you.

“You don’t mind being completely restricted? Who knows what I could do to you?” His lips were pulled into a grin while speaking, carefully starting to wrap your limbs with the silky material. Hyunjin takes advantage of your silence. “Oh, maybe you like being tied up? Do we have a little rope bunny on our hands?” He’s got you almost completely tied up now, hands and feet pulled behind your back tightly.

He backs away from you once he’s done with the knotting, admiring the work he’s done to your body. Breathing was difficult due to being stretched and bent like a pretzel. He bites on his knuckle and figures out which angle he likes best before drawing. Your skin is hot, a mixture of embarrassment and being turned on by his words. You decide to bite back.

“I’m not sorry.” You declare, remembering the words he said to you the night prior. He shoots you a confused look before realizing what you mean, laughing at himself.

“So you were awake? Figures.” He steps back over to you, bending at the knees to face you at your level. “Just because you aren’t sorry about it doesn’t mean I couldn’t face fuck you right here, right now.” He brings his thumb to your lips, pushing it into your mouth just like he did last night. You wiggle and squirm, trying to free yourself from the rope that binds you.

He smears your own saliva across your lips, holding your head up afterward by your chin. “Why do I feel like you would enjoy that more than me?” He stands up laughing, turning his body away from you. “No more sassy comments, love.”

“Or what?” You still struggle against the ropes but hoped if you pressed his buttons enough that maybe he actually would fuck you.

You’d never thought that dirty talk was sexy, or even remotely attractive. Dirty talk during sex with ex-boyfriends or just plain old hookups made you want to pull your ears off, but something to do with Hyunjin’s voice, or the way his lips move while he talks is so intoxicating.

He scoffed, turning back to you. “Or what? Are you genuinely curious, or just want to test me?”

If you were able to shrug, you probably would have; but the only thing you managed to do was grin, giving him all the answers he needed. Your core was already throbbing from his soft, accidental touches to your skin while tying you up, his words only adding fuel to the fire. You’ve already done so many new things today, why not try more?

He races over to you, untying each knot he previously made and discarding the rope.

“Stand up.” He demands, backing far enough away for you to do so.

You sit up, stretching and rubbing at your limbs for just a moment before standing in front of him; your nipples hard, crotch fully visible, and your hair a mess.

“I’m only going to ask this once, got it?” He starts, in turn having you nod in response. “Do you actually want me to fuck you? Because I won't stop once I start, no matter what.” He steps closer to you as he questions you, analyzing your face for any signs of fear or concern. You nod again.

“I need words.” He orders.

“Yes, I want this.” You’re barely able to get the words out of your mouth before he’s scooping you up, your body flung over his shoulder. He walks to the master bedroom, letting you fall onto the covers once he’s close enough to the bed.

“Last chance.” He whispers into your ear, his body towering over yours with his hands planted onto the mattress on each side of your face.

You pull your body up, just high enough to leave a soft, chaste kiss on his lips. His face changes emotion, from dark and intimidating to joyful and thrilled. He slips his hand under your head, pulling your lips to his again and kissing you deeply. He situates himself between your legs, groaning into your lips as his bulge presses into your core. Your hands wander all over him, feeling his muscular arms while his teeth find your lip and tugs at it roughly.

You wince and moan at the pain, just the reaction he was looking for. His dark brown hair falls over his face while he gropes at your breast, pinching the nipple between his fingers. You bring your hand to his head and pull the hair from his face only to grip at it and earn a profound moan from him.

“Your body fits so perfectly underneath me,” He whispers into the kiss. “like a puzzle piece.” He lowers his head, aligning his mouth to the other nipple on your chest, nibbling and sucking at it erratically. “Too bad I’m going to break you.” His hand moves underneath your head, gripping strongly at your scalp and yanking your head back into the bed with your neck exposed.

His lips travel up your chest, stopping at your collarbone and eventually behind your ear, kissing, and biting deep into your skin. Each pinch with his teeth earns a whine from you, your body arching and raising into his. He’s enjoying toying with you, slowly making his way back to your mouth. His kisses are salty, the sweat from your skin residing on his lips. His hand moves from your chest to your hips, gripping at them painfully with his nails digging into your skin- sure to leave marks. He pulls your hips into him, jamming his hard-on deep into your swollen mess of a cunt.

There was no way he couldn’t feel how wet you were, your essence most definitely dampening through his fleece pants. He pulls away from you just slightly, his grip on your hair lesser than it was. He swipes a finger through your folds, your body jumping at the sudden contact on your swollen clit.

“How long have you been this wet for me, darling?” He pushes his now-wet finger into your mouth, almost deep enough to make you gag. You suck it clean, whining at the taste of yourself as he enjoys the show. He pushes it deeper, his digit now poking at the back of your throat. You gag against it, his hips rutting into yours while sighing in pleasure. Despite the uncomfortable gagging, you were loving every second of this and never wanted it to end.

He practically fisted his fingers into your mouth while he dry-humped against your core, moans being exchanged between you both. He removed his fingers, instead using them to grab at your neck roughly.

“Is your cunt as tight as your throat is?” He whispers this into your ear with his hips still clothed and grinding into you. “I don’t know which one I want to stretch out first.” He squeezes your neck, airflow being cut short while he pulls away and looks into your tear-lined eyes. He pulls you up into a sitting position by your neck, releasing you once your face turns red. He steps off of the bed, grinning, while pulling his pants and boxers down his legs.

“I’ll be nice and let you pick.” His voice has returned to its deep and sultry tone. His dick slaps against his defined stomach once released from his shorts. Your core throbs at the sight of his cock, so pretty and long. You can’t help looking at it, eyes darting from his length to his face over and over.

“Can’t decide? Alright.” On his knees he climbs to the top of the bed, leaning his back against the headboard while sitting up straight. “I’ll let you keep me warm while I play with you.” He grins and gestures for you to come to him, flipping your body around to face away from him.

He lowers you onto his length slowly, easily able to prod at your soaked entrance with his tip. His head tilts back as your walls surround him, stretching out to accommodate his size. Your moan gets caught in your throat once he bottoms out, eyes squinted shut with pain and pleasure. He pulls your back into his chest, keeping a hand on your hip so you don’t move.

Your head falls back onto his shoulder and you sit still on his cock, your body twitching for more movement or friction. Hyunjin’s other hand rubs at your thigh, almost comforting you.

“H-Hyunjin.” You breathe out softly, your body now aching for more attention at your core. “Yes, baby?” He responds uncharacteristically soft, pulling loose hairs from your face and tucking them behind your ear. “Please touch me.” You plead, attempting to lift your hips, failing due to his stronghold against you. “Only because you said please,” He starts, his hand traveling to between your legs. “and because I want to feel you grip at my dick when I make you cum.” He whispers into your ear, nipping at it slightly before his fingers meet your core.

He starts to strum at your clit, purposefully making your body jolt as he holds you close. He adds more pressure, rubbing circularly until finding where you enjoy it the most. You clench around him once he does, moaning quietly as your body squirms.

“Stay still and keep my cock warm, beautiful.” He rubs your sweet spot steadily, your breathing still heavy and littered with moans.

His voice sends a shiver down your spine, amplifying his touch. You already felt so close. Your stomach full of butterflies and your chest tight, toes curling as your body floods with pressure. He notices this, picking up the pace and moaning in unison with you- your walls clenching around his cock tight. Your legs are shaking like crazy from the overstimulation on your clit. Within a millisecond you feel the rush of your orgasm flooding through you, your back arching and shoulders digging into his chest as you let it overtake your body. He rubs your clit more aggressively while moaning in unison with you, his movements making your high last much longer than you ever had before.

“Fuck, Y/N, you're gripping me so fucking tight.” He growls, just barely rutting his hips up into you.

You cry out his name not long before your body relaxes into him, feeling exhausted at how strongly you came. He slows his movements on your clit, still thoroughly enjoying the way your walls pulsate against his length. Removing his hand, he wraps his arms around you tight, holding you close to him.

“Fucked out already?” Hyunjin questions after a few moments. “I’m not done with you yet, you’ll have to bare with me, darling.” He pushes you forward onto the bed, his cock slipping out of you as you land on your stomach, too tired to move.

The bed dips, and lifts back up as he leaves the room, only to return a just moment later. He pulls your arms behind your back, using a small piece of the rope he grabbed to tie your wrists. You lay there limp, letting him play with your body like a doll as he positions you the way he wants to. He pulls your ass up into the air, doggy style with your face and chest planted into the mattress. He’s speaking words to you, but they’re unclear because of the ringing in your ears from your orgasm.

You feel his dick press into you again, his hips slowly pressing further into you until reaching your hilt. A moan escapes from deep within his chest, his hands gripping at your waist and pulling you into him. The feeling of his cock pulsating inside of you pulls your consciousness back into the room, your body feeling exhilarated once more. Once he starts pumping his length into you, the sweet feeling of pain and pleasure resume.

“You know,” He breathes deeply before continuing. “Part of me wants to treat you like an angel and the other wants to fuck you so hard you’re unable to walk for the rest of the night.”

His words cripple you, that and how hard he pulled out and rammed himself into you once more. Your body jerks forward from the impact and you let out such a loud moan that the neighbors are sure to hear it. He draws out his actions, slamming the tip of his cock into your hilt over and over until he’s satisfied, and slows his movement.

“No one’s ever taken my dick this well,” He pulls your upper body up by your restricted wrists, still on your knees as your back meets his chest. “I knew you were a special one, but not this special.” He raises a leg, planting the sole of his foot on the bed for leverage as he starts to pound into you again.

Nasty squelching sounds fill the room, the combination of how wet you are and how fast he fucks you resulting in such. He holds your body against his, pummeling away at your cunt and bringing his hand to your neck. Your groaning and whining get stuck in your throat, his ring-decorated fingers squeezing your throat as if they belonged there. Your walls have adjusted to him, no longer feeling the pain of his size but now accepting it, feeling every vein and ridge it had to offer.

“I think I’ll be claiming you as mine after this.” His voice is loud in your ear while declaring his rights to ownership, the thought of more situations like these in the future had you feeling even more wet.

“Please.” is all you can mutter from your mouth, words barely traveling past your lips from the lack of airflow. He hears you, loosening his grip to let you repeat yourself. “Please, Hyunjin.”

The impact of your words was heavier than you expected them to be, a moan leaving his lips at the pronunciation of his name. “Again.” He growls.

“Hyunjin..” You repeat, whining as you draw your words out.

He sloppily ruts into you, his name coming from your mouth has an affect on him that he had never felt before. His dick drives into your hilt, his teeth now piercing into the skin of your shoulder as he starts to feel his first high of the night. You yelp at the pain, only making him bite deeper, and pound you harder while your breasts jiggle and bounce.

Neither of you can speak at this point, feeling so close to your highs. You mumble random curse words as your walls tighten, his breaths hot and fast against your skin. Grunts escape from Hyunjin as he feels the electricity travel through his body, your cunt clenching around him only adding more enjoyment. You feel extra sensitive after your first orgasm, your insides screaming with joy as he wrecks you. Never have you been able to cum without some type of stimulation on your clit, but the way he rocks his dick into your body makes it feel so easy.

His hold around your neck loosens, and eventually, his hands grip only at your waist to pull you deeper onto his length. You try to assist him, bouncing and forcing your weight down with every thrust. “Fuck, Y/N.” His voice is shaking, his orgasm starting to take him over.

That sets you off, the way your body is able to make him fold brings you over the edge and shaking with bliss. He cums right alongside you, his cock twitching as his seed expels from his body and mixes with your essence. He keeps pushing himself into you despite already cumming, letting you ride out your orgasm to the fullest. You throb around him, a wiggling mess as you scream out his name.

Once finished, you find yourself freed from the ropes, lying on your side under the covers. Hyunjin’s hands are gently running along your body, soft touches causing you to shiver.

“Look who finally woke up.” He quietly taunts, a grin plastered on his lips.

He plants a kiss on your shoulder, making sure you’re aware of his presence in your exhausted state. “I don’t remember passing out.” Your voice is raspy, both from sleeping and screaming at the top of your lungs for the last hour. “Mmm, well you did, with my dick still inside of you actually. Looks like cumming twice is your limit.” He lifts the covers and steps out of bed, holding his hands out for you to grab. “For now, at least.” He smiles down at you, his tongue rimming his bottom lip as a tease.

He runs you a bath, joining you and helping you wash up from behind. He’s careful with his touches, gently washing your hair and making sure not to get any water in your eyes when rinsing it out. He wraps a large towel around you after stepping out of the tub, grabbing one for himself afterward.

“I meant what I said earlier.” He says from across the room while putting on clean clothes. “You’re mine now.”

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