#and then just started unconsciously singing along

[comfortless]

Deep Water

nix! König x fem! reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. no.. intentional harm done to reader but there are sporadic mentions of murder (drowning), König is kind of a creep here do you guys forgive me (say yes), implied sex; dubcon everything. König is wearing a fishing net rather than the usual hood because. it made sense to me sorry.

notes: yet again, i have found that i can not manage to write anything except for silly fantasy nonsense… bear with me this will pass (it will not). if you’re uncertain of what a nix is, i recommend skimming over this (or tl;dr— a shapeshifting water spirit).

You’ve always been told to beware of the river, especially on nights like this. When the singing starts up you were to run, as far and as fast as your feet could carry you. It would be the most beautiful sound you had ever heard, as well as the last. Whatever beast lies in wait along the silt of the riverbed luring people in with its haunting song isn’t kind. The drowned bodies resurfacing bloated and paled are enough for the townsfolk to assume that assuredly, a monster lies in wait someplace within the glassy water.

For all of the fear, town myths were just that— myths.

As always, there’s no singing when you seat yourself on smooth, mossy stones by the river’s bank. The moon hangs low, casting its brilliant reflection on calm, dark water. The air is alive with the buzzing of cicadas clinging to the trees at your back and night birds calling out to the wind. Nothing is amiss; it’s only peaceful, and that’s why despite the warnings, you often find yourself here when the temperature is favorable.

There are nights when the river isn’t calm, and currents are the most reliable reasoning for the deaths from past summers. The water is full of large rocks with sharp corners, teeming with plants that could so easily snare an ankle, and when the water is frothing and cruel it’s no surprise that one could be thrashed to unconsciousness if they weren’t careful.

You didn’t come here to take your chances on swimming, anyhow.

If anything, it’s a mere reprieve from the bustle of the town. No one wanders here any more since the myths gained traction, passed from mouth to listening ears time and time again, leaving this place entirely untouched. Occasionally the obnoxious teenager would cross your path on the walk here, declaring loudly to their friends about how they supposedly saw some slimy beast, eyes like moonbeams and scales like razors lying on the bank.

During your little adventures here, you often carry a snack with you, but not for yourself. Tonight, it’s just a small package of vanilla flavored cookies. In truth, they were awful— dry and near flavorless, but you suspect your friend here wouldn’t mind too terribly much, and if it got them out of your pantry without wasting it was a win for the both of you.

When the large dorsal fin crests over the water mere meters from the bank, you gratuitously crush the treats in a closed fist and toss the crumbs into the water. Time and time again, you’ve fed the large animal, watching as it thrashes about just below the surface before disappearing back into its depths. You’ve never gotten a good look at it, either, but you imagine it must stretch out past your height or further; some sort of gar or sturgeon.

Just as many times before, it glides further in, fin entirely out of sight now. The only evidence of it ever appearing at all were the small waves rippling in its wake. All is quieted once more as you embrace the placid bliss, readying your small flashlight and losing yourself into the book perched in your lap.

The next night, you’re greeted by a large snake basking over the rock you typically sat upon. It lies still, coiled into itself as it regards you, forked tongue flicking out for several moments before it simply slithers off, hiding itself away beneath the moss and stone.

“Best to leave you alone, huh?,” you ask to it’s retreating tail, feeling a bit silly for speaking to the reptile at all. It doesn’t respond, of course, nor does it bother to come out of hiding either.

You opt to seat yourself on the hill overlooking the water instead.

You find that after a day occupied by tedious tasks, there truly was no greater place to abandon your woes than here. Everything was peaceful; wild yet simplistic. Even with all of the death that seemed to haunt this place, you never feared the thought of ghosts. You’ve even entertained your imagination a time or two, that if you ever did meet one, you would only ask it not to disturb the wildlife you have grown so fond.

There’s a freedom and a mystery to places like this, places without the foot traffic of other people. It brings with it a sense of whimsy, especially when you glance towards the water and see the surface reflecting every twinkling star above.

The fish doesn’t appear, even as you listen to the water in wait, your head tilted as you lie back on soft grass to watch for ripples, for the swell of a large fin moving beneath. Nothing. You read your book as the night progresses, nearly completing it entirely before you make your way back home.

Weeks pass by like this— work, river, home and repeat. Occasionally it’s the same large snake that greets you when you wander there, more often it’s the large fish circling about waiting for crumbs of whatever treat you choose to bring. The bank and the small hill overlooking it have become a separate home to you, one where you can be away with the fairies, talking to your animal friends that never seem to stick around for long.

When the weather grows warmer, you even dare to take a swim.

You’re stood on the slick stones of the bank, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of underwear. It’s not proper swimming attire, but you reason that you’re not at the beach, not a soul is around, and it doesn’t really matter at all that you might look a bit silly. The prospect of swimming along that behemoth below is a tad terrifying, but you wouldn’t dare to wander too far in. Maybe the fish would even be intelligent enough to not attempt to eat you after you’ve been so kind to it.

It’s hot, and with a sticky layer of sweat glossing your skin, your worries seem minuscule in light of an easy way of cooling off. You toe at the calm water for a moment, testing its temperature before willing yourself to take a step forward, then another before you seat yourself in the vibrant expanse of darkened blue. Here, you realize, is the best place to stargaze, too; they shimmer all around you, within reach as you tap at the surface of water, watching it undulate beneath the pressure of your fingertips.

You could reach the moon, too, if you swam further out. A few meters from the bank and you would be directly beneath its reflection, bathed in that ethereal glow.

You watch for your friend for a time, trying to prioritize your wariness over your whimsy. When the fish doesn’t tread by you, the water remaining calm, you rise to your feet and take slow, metered steps as the water parts and flows against your shins.

Though the river is disturbed no matter how gently you stride forward, nothing slides out from its depths in pursuit of you. Nothing happens at all when you reach out to splay your hand out against the reflection, the water now gently lapping against your stomach rather than your legs.

You hadn’t expected any sort of shift in your reality, that would be ridiculous, but perhaps some sort of clarity; a further calm for a weary mind. It doesn’t come, and with a disheartened splash you wade your way back towards the shore.

This has been your sanctuary for some time. Excusing the snake, there’s not been any sort of threat to you, not here. A safe water world all your own. Though, that peace is shattered the moment that you make it to the bank and hear the water shift some small distance behind you. Turning your head, you’re met with the sight of a man, the bulky muscular silhouette towering in the patch of moonlight you had just stood in. Bright blue eyes catch the light, reflecting like an animal’s as you scramble back to where you’ve left your shorts.

He stands there, silent and unmoving like an obelisk even as you hastily dress yourself with a thundering heart and breaths that sound more or less like gasps, senses heightened by your panic as you turn tail to run.

No one had been there. You were sure of it when you sunk into the water. There was no sound when this person had swam over to take your place. He was just there, as if he had been the entire time and you somehow failed to notice.

You make your way into the woods framing this place, hurried steps and untied shoelaces. You don’t even bother with your flashlight.

Finding your way back home with aches in every muscle, the desperate rampage you had taken to get away finally coming to a close when the door slams shut behind you, you quickly shower and mull over what’s just happened. A ghost, perhaps. It had to of been. Any other person would have made noise in their approach, especially being that big. The mind could play its tricks; what you had seen was likely not even there at all— a terrifying figment of your imagination. That sets you at ease, somewhat, but not enough.

You don’t sleep well that night, tucked beneath your blanket and staring at the filtered moonlight through your curtains. Work isn’t on your mind at all come morning until your phone chimes with a notification from your manager, questioning your tardiness. A languid crawl out of bed follows, another shower, an unsatisfying breakfast, all before you opt to send a text back to let him know you won’t be in today.

It could be excused, you’re reliable and decent enough at the job; not one to boast, but far more eager to please than the rest of your coworkers. You would be entirely useless if you went in on no sleep, you reason.

You don’t want to go back there, not under the veil of night, but you find yourself horribly curious the longer that you bide your time indoors. You had to know if the thing that you saw was really there, had to calm your nerves. What if he had always been watching each time, and you simply hadn’t noticed? The forest bordering the river is terribly dark at night, anyone could crouch behind the shield of a tree and remain undetected until they willed the courage to drag you in, cup a palm over your mouth to silence your cries.

Maybe it was the monster the people in town rumored about.

The thought of some strange, silent thing living beneath the water waiting for an opportune moment to take you by the neck and drag you down to the silty floor to watch you drown horrified you. Yet, that’s the one conclusion that sticks. Those eyes… so lurid and haunting, no human being had eyes like that.

You inhale sharply, steeling your nerves as reach for a pocket knife for defense, toss it into the bag slung over your shoulder, and storm out the door.

The trek there is nothing short of dull.

No matter where you look, what shadows rise up beneath the dim glow of a falling sun, there’s nothing out in the woods. The river is equally tame. The water babbles over rock, cicadas buzz off in the distance, and not a thing seems amiss. Your search for footprints that don’t belong to the soles of your shoes turns up empty. The only thing that suggests just maybe it wasn’t all in your head is the book you had neglected to retrieve in your fear the night before.

The cover, every page within, now warped as though it had been pulled into the water and spit out to dry. You pick it up, peeling through damp pages, running your fingertips over the smeared ink. It’s possible that a particularly aggressive splash could have sullied it, but something tells you that that isn’t the case. Either way, it’s unreadable now. You sulk a bit as you slip the ruined thing into your bag and step towards the smooth stones to watch the water instead.

Night creeps in slowly with you there, and you’re on high alert for a time before you begin to relax as usual. Even giggle to yourself at how silly it was you believed you saw a ghost at all as you entertain yourself by skipping small stones across the water.

No large snake, no massive fish, no titan of a man appears before you, only a calming crescent moon and a few wandering wood ducks, gliding down from the bank to splash about. A thought comes to mind as the calm emboldens you: what would happen if you got in just one more time?

There’s nothing to suggest that you’re playing with fire as you leave your shoes neatly in the dry sand. If the ducks could swim unbothered by fish or men, then surely you could, too. You watch the little creatures a distance away as they dip their heads beneath the surface and chitter away amongst themselves while you take your first step in.

You don’t dare to go as far this time, stopping when the water brushes over your knees. You wait there while time seems to slow to a crawl, expecting the absolute worst, glancing further down the river, dipping your hand below the glassy surface until your fingertips brush the sand beneath.

It’s horribly hot and you’re still exhausted from the sleepless night before. The water feels nice, and you feel as though you have some sort of claim to it as you’ve been here more often than anyone else would dare to. Ghosts and monsters be damned, you seat yourself and let the water lap over your shoulders, tilting your head back to watch the stars.

When the singing begins it takes a moment to register just what it is that you’re hearing. It’s not beautiful, not like the myths have said. It’s hissed, a low whisper, a mockery of what a human song would sound like. The voice is rasped, lilted yet cold. The realization that it sings words from your book of poetry is what terrifies you the most, the warped pages all making sense now.

Your eyes dart to either side of you, forward, before realizing the voice is coming from behind you. Cold spreads through your veins as you try to force yourself to stand, but in your fear you find yourself petrified, rooted in water that would surely become your grave.

You can’t bring yourself to turn around, to inevitably find your eyes locked onto the shadowy frame of a man far too large, his eyes glistening and pale like the moon hanging above.

The voice pauses when it finds you unmoving, and you can hear the rustle of the creature shifting its weight where it’s stood on the rocks lining the bank. You’ve no clue how deep the river gets, where the opposite side leads, but your only chance of escape seems to be swimming through in the hopes that this thing doesn’t choose to chase after you. A part of you knows that he would, that that is exactly what he expects you to do, goading you to flee deeper with his eerie song so that he can drown you just as he did the others.

You do the opposite as you squeeze your eyes shut and crawl back towards the bank, making sure to keep some distance despite your willful blindness. You wouldn’t look at it, wouldn’t talk to it, you would just go home and never come back.

“Best to leave you alone, hm?”

You still as your fingers brush against wet moss, the voice no longer a whisper but loud, loud as it echoes your words from days past just above you. Beating back your own curiosity proves futile, because you look up at the damned thing then, expecting to see an impossible terror before you, sharp fangs wet with blood and appendages too spindly reaching out for you. Instead, you see only a man.

He’s crouched, only a meter or so away, and you immediately recognize his broad figure. The same as the night before. From this distance you can make out the finer details, the length of net covering his face and neck, the webbing between each finger. Still a scary sight, but only in the way it’s unfamiliar and imposing rather than instilling any sort of primordial fear.

“Excuse me?” You pull yourself fully out of the water, rising to your feet and taking a tentative step back. You’re prepared to run, a coil pulled too tight on the verge of snapping.

The man, creature, whatever he may be just tilts his head, lets the silence hang in the air for a moment before he has the audacity to laugh whether to himself or at the strange, bewildered expression on your face.

His stare is assessing as he sucks in a breath, follows suit in rising to his full height. From the size of him alone, you know you’re not getting away. A mere stride for him would be two or more for you, a deliberate tug of your wrist from him could snap it in an instant.

Yet, he doesn’t reach for you, only gestures toward your bag lying on the ground with a subtle flick of a finger. You give him a quizzical glance in turn, not bothering to retrieve it. You could come back during the day with a friend, gather it and never return. Only, your knife sits somewhere inside, the only protection that you’ve got. The realization spurs you to bend over and toss the strap over your shoulder.

“I’ll… I’ll be going now.”

The stare remains fixed upon you as you take another step back, blinking slowly every now and then as you both remain in some strange stasis.

It takes you a moment to put the pieces together. The reciting of words from the book, the mimicking of the words spoken to the snake, the hint at your bag… he’s expecting something and it’s not to steal away your life, only to be fed and have your company. It’s not charming, it’s awfully strange and eerie, but you find yourself giggling at the prospect of taming some murderous, shapeshifting monster with subpar treats and poetry.

You pull open the bag, searching for anything you may have brought along that he could eat, eventually prying out a small package and offering it out to him.

“Is this what you want?,” you ask, voice hushed and trembling.

He shakes his head, rustling the net cloaking him in the process. So, he understands, he’s just been willfully ignoring every other thing you’ve said prior. You store the package away with a perturbed expression crossing over your face.

“Then what?”

Any relief you had felt seems to dwindle when the giant takes a half-step closer. His skin is cool and wet as the river as he brushes his hand over your forearm, curling a set of fingers around it. The touch is gentle, but there’s a promise of violence lurking somewhere in the depths of his eyes.

“Come with me,” he urges in that harsh whisper from before, delicately squeezing as he pulls you towards him, leading you back to the river with a tight grip and a step back over the stones. Though his touch is passive, there’s a frightening strength lurking someplace beneath his flesh, tacked to bone, and as your gaze trails lower to rest to rest at your feet, the space between you two, the evidence of a life prone to violence and strength is laid bare before you.

You don’t fight the hold as he leads you to water so deep it caresses the base of your neck, right below the milky glow of a waning moon. Deeper still, as you’re pulled below, pressed down to the very bottom with his body lain over you. You can only hold your breath so long before an involuntary gasp leaves you, and a wave is funneled straight into your lungs.

Panic is fleeting, but the adrenaline stays ever-present. You claw, push, kick, to no avail. Pinned down by a hand weighing like an anchor you feel your vision flooding and hazy as his head knocks against your jaw, mouth sealing tightly over yours. It’s not a gentle kiss, the net fashioned into a hood digs into your skin, teeth scrape over your lip until you feel the sting of blood drawn.

All at once, your vision darkens and it’s over.

You find yourself lying back on the shore as the morning sun warms your face, causes your dampened shirt to cling to your skin. Disoriented, but alive, brushing your thumb over your lower lip as you sit up to stare at the subtle waves lapping over moss and rock.

Just a dream, you tell yourself, knowing full well you hadn’t fallen asleep.

Just a dream, even though you avoid the river entirely now. Your route home from work changes too, avoiding even a glimpse of the path that leads down to that place. You don’t even replace the book, you toss what remains of it after fishing through your bag, murmuring something about it surely being cursed and entertain yourself with film at night instead.

Sleep remains tentative, you wake with every sound, and your dreaming is filled with visions of a figure pushing you down into deep water, his weight bearing down upon you so heavily that you can not move until you wake with a start, eyes searching your bedroom.

Several weeks, and the fear does eventually fade.

The morning that the rain begins to fall, you realize you haven’t even thought about the river in days. There’s no monster prowling your nightmares anymore. You lived through what may or may not have occurred, and that was the end of it, simple as it may have been.

A late shift at work has you wandering out into the rain, umbrella in hand. You’re grateful that you live close, that you’re not entirely soaked to the bone when you step inside of the mundane building. Your coworkers notice your change in demeanor immediately, chirping about how glad they are that you’re finally feeling better, looking more yourself as the hours pass you by. It brings a smile to your face, a real one that you haven’t had in place since that last night.

Even in the summer, there’s a chill to the air in the late afternoon as you hurry home from work and make your way inside, stripping out of your wet clothes and setting your umbrella aside. It’s darker outside than it should be, even more so indoors. Reaching for the switch to turn on the lights proves useless— the power’s out.

You light your way with your phone, ignoring the way your pulse quickens and your heart flutters with the fear that something just doesn’t feel right. Your skin prickles with the thought of some unseen pair of eyes watching you, blue and cold. You only relax when you slam your bedroom door shut, locking it and pressing your forehead to the wood as you sigh. The puff of breath that escapes your lips is not the only in the room, you find out when the light of your phone illuminated your bed. Crouched beside it, a towering figure with a face veiled by fishing net. Words don’t come when you open your mouth to speak, and your heart stutters in your chest as you stand shaking but otherwise petrified.

“You didn’t come back.”

Of course you hadn’t.

Most people wouldn’t have.

“No. I’ve been… busy,” you choke out the excuse, hoping to pacify whatever emotion you imagine lurked beneath his tone, undetectable through the hiss of his voice. “I’ll visit soon, promise,” you lie, back pressed against the door as your fingers curl over the knob.

Your fear seems almost unwarranted. He doesn’t move toward you, only stands to wander back to the window where he must have broken in.

“Tonight?,” he asks in a voice so soft, the voice he must use as a lure because tugs at your heartstrings immediately, makes you want to follow despite the threat this thing poses merely by existing, despite everything.

“It’s cold— I’ll get sick,” you murmur. “How did you even find me..?”

“I will keep you warm.” The question goes unanswered.

You find yourself stifled again as he lumbers towards you, brushing cold fingers across the side of your face. It’s not a mockery of a kiss you receive next but a firm bite where your neck meets shoulder, not yet hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make you shiver, to grip at the wall of muscle that makes up his chest.

There’s a desperation to his movements as he herds you towards the window, pushes you toward the path leading back to the river. You’re soaked to the bone in seconds, hardly able to keep your eyes open past the weight of dampened eyelashes. The rain is so heavy it feels as though every step is like the first you took into cursed water, your feet sinking into the mud along the path with each tentative stride. The realization that you’re there doesn’t even hit you until you’re chest-deep in the chill, violent waves pushing against you, each carrying the threat of toppling you over entirely.

The palm splayed out against your bare back keeps you upright, leading you to a smooth rock jutting out in the midst of what seems a sea of frothing white and blue. The sea above is just as dark, angry clouds roaring as you’re pressed down onto your back, shivering terribly.

He keeps his promise though, a tight grip on each thigh as he pries your legs apart, sinks in between them and blankets you from the rain. Even with the cold pressed to your back, you feel the warmth of a summer sun above you, scorching from inside, just as blazing as the look in his wild eyes. The last of any resolve slips when you’re pulled beneath the violent waves, a tangle of limbs and desperate kisses coaxing oxygen into your lungs. Each roll and pull no less tumultuous than the waves overhead. A placid end when the rain comes to an impromptu halt, just as he stills over you. Hands rush to cup your face with one final, desperate and biting kiss.

When the morning sun pulls you from sleep, cool moss against your back and the weight of his head resting over your middle, the shallow water lapping lazily at your figure, you find that you no longer fear drowning.

#könig x reader #konig x reader #könig x you #konig x you #könig #konig #cod fanfiction #cod fanfic #konig fanfiction #i have been mulling over this for an eternity sorry it needed to be extracted from my brain #he is absolutely more lycanthrope coded to me but whoosh whatever nix König be upon ye #also apologies to everyone for not writing much lately and the fact this is hardly a real fic #cursed by the sleepy i just need a 10yr long nap #<- in my ‘in denial about burnout’ era

[d6volution]

Ringmaster.

Chapter 2, Proclamation.

Caine/Reader. | Fem alinged.

Rating: Explicit.

tag: chair sex, mirror sex, choking, aphrodisiacs, caine has a big di—, nipple play.

minors dni.

You could still feel him holding your body flush to his chest, hand running along your waist and just beneath the curve of your heavy breast. He silently watched you come down from your previous high. Thinking of what to do next. He could feel your body threatening to go limp against him. Now this certainly wasn't the time for shut eye!

"None of that my dear, open your eyes!" He lightly tapped your face, and your lashes fluttered.. it seemed your first orgasm drained you more than expected, perhaps he should have eased up on the 'aphrodisiacs'. No matter.

The rest of your clothes were stripped away, and the cool air helped you come to. But your body was still practically on fire, and god did you need him to touch you again.. but bit your tongue. Fighting against the urge to admitting to something so embarrassing.

"[Censor]...." You whined, and just like clock work Caine's baton whacked at your bare thighs before gently rolling along the little welt that began to appear. "Language my dear! Hmmn.. and how are we feeling down here?" The ball of his baton gently nudged and rubbed at that tender little pearl in-between your legs. You yelped and jerked against the sensation, back arching a little. "Just as I thought ! Even if you don't want to admit it's clear your body craves more! And why not give it all it needs and then some hmm?" His voice seemed to drop an octave at the end of his sentence.

That made your legs squeeze together.

"But.. Caine.." You huffed, attempting to adjust yourself in his arms but be took over. Snapping his fingers and you both were now in his floating chair. "C.. Caine, get us down..! Please.. th.. this isn't the time for your tricks..!" Your voice was still trembling and laced with need, but you clung to his suit jacket. Not that you were dangerously high in the air, but in the air nonetheless.

The ringmaster ignored your pleas and instead made sure you sat prettily on his lap, holding you firmly by the waist.. with your back against his chest. Just then you could feel something poking you through his black pants.. Caine tuts at your feeble attempt at back talk, "Look. just in front of you dear. How can you deny it when you're still making such a mess of yourself!" You looked up from the ground, and was faced with a tall and wide mirror. There you were , naked in this new obscene body you almost forgot you had.

You immediately attempted to cover yourself and Caine stopped you in your tracks. He placed your legs atop his own and used this advantage to spread them wide, "My, my look at you ! You're practically dripping..!" He said with delight, his hips unconsciously rolling up against your bare ass. You could feel him throbbing against you. "S..So willing and eager to take me.. Oh, you were certainly made just for me my dearest Y/N!" He spoke while both his hands started to caress your tender breasts again. Pinching and tugging at your tender nipples. The man was quite literally drooling over your body. 

He grinded into your ass as he tweaked and toyed with your nipples until they were raw and your eyes were beginning to get glossy.

"N..Not so hard Caine.." Your mind was spinning, just the stimulation of your nipples made your cunt clench around nothing, it was like electricity throughout your body. Too bad Caine was blinded by his own lust to hear care for your pleas, "Worry not, Y/N.. I have just the thing to make you keep that pretty mouth singing for me!" One hand released your breast and got to work undoing his pants. His shaft flung to life in between your legs, standing tall and proud. 

Your body had a physical reaction just to seeing his member, how would it react when it was inside..? If that thing could even fit in the first place.

Naturally you began to squirm in his lap, was it out of fear? eagerness? you couldn't tell the two feelings apart anymore. 

"Now, I know what you're thinking! And I assure you, it will fit!" He reached around your waist and grabbed the base of it rubbing it along your slit. Shuddering behind you as he breathed like some kind of animal on your neck. 

"Too big Caine, won't fit.." You still whined, and his hand that once caressed your chest was now ghosting along your neck. "Oh, my dear, but it will." His tip was pushing against your entrance, you could feel the resistance, his dick was just too girthy. How could anyone be so big!? 

Naturally your legs spread wider, your body wanted this.. needed it, so it was determined to make just that happen, "Nnnh, pleasepleasepleaseplease...!" You begged and hooded eyes watched him bully his way into your tight hole through the reflection of the mirror. As his tip finally pushed past your puffy lips and sunk into your heat, your mouth hung open, bliss trickling through your body. "M.. More please.." It was just a whisper. But the eerily quiet Caine still heard your pathetic plea and he did just that, sinking himself further into your heat. Inch by inch he disappeared into your fluttering cunt. 

You were so focused on the pressure in your cunt you almost forgot didn't realize just how quiet Caine had gotten since he entered you, your gaze shifted to the reflection of Caine in front of you. He was trembling, pupils dilated into a sea of black, he was clearly trying so hard to hold himself back it seemed, this was the quietest you've ever seen him. It was as scary as it was attratctive. 

Somehow, he noticed your gaze without shifting his own and took this chance to thrust the final few inches inside of you and it caught you off guard just as he suspected it would. Pulling a delicious scream from your lips. "Aaah!! Nnh.. so, deep.. nnh.." You panted out, but this stuff coursing through your body was impatient. Sure, you were full of dick. Sensitive as could be, and being fucked in front of a mirror by the ring leader, but it still wanted more. Like he said it needed to be satiated. "Please, mov- hhck!" His hand already near your neck, grabbed it rather tightly. You gasped scrambled, but tightened so nicely on his dick that he moaned into your ear without warning. 

You could just barely breathe, he was very careful about his hand placement to make sure of it. "What a change of heart you've had my dear," He said while moving his hips back, before slamming them upwards into your tight cunt. Another strangled gasp escaped your lips, hands clawing at this sleeve, but to no avail.

Over over and over.

He slammed into your cunt without another, word. Soon enough letting go of your throat to grab your hips and steady them, pulling them towards him as he thrusted forward, hitting so deeply that you were seeing stars. There were no more words from you, just incoherent babbles and pleas as you barely caught your breath. You don't know how you were able to hold on this long to begin with, but your climax was approaching already. You couldn't help it, every touch from him made you react so strongly, so his constant pounding was just too much for you to handle without; "C-Cumming, cumming..!" You managed to sputter out, drool rolling down the side your lips. 

"That's right dear, nh- cum as many times as you please!" His usual announcer voice was beginning to show its cracks, he was just as far gone as you. But his hips were still going full force, slapping against your own in such an obscene manner- and not slowing any signs of stopping. "H-Hhaa.. too much, Caine..!" You yelped, you body was buzzing. 

He yanked your hips back down as you unconsciously began to pull away from him. "No, no no! You'll stay r-right here! Ah.." He grunted, dick still digging into the most sensitive parts of your overstimulated hole. "You can go longer, Y/N I know you can, that's it..!" He said with full confidence, completely drunk on your pussy. 

Your mind was going blank, you could only think about how good he felt.. so overwhelming good.. 

Your body locked up again, clamping down on his shaft and causing his hips to stutter a little at the sudden tightness. "Al-Almost there my dear, almost...!" His hips were moving like a blur, his hands bruising your hips with his grip as finally spilled himself into your cunt. "Ah.. there.. so nicely done.." He praised as his hips lazily  thrusted in and out of you. "How about another go my dear?" He said but you didn't respond, and patted your face like before you were taken by sleep. Exhaustion from this session and the aphrodisiacs combined was entirely too much for you. But the lazy and tired smile plastered on your sleeping face was also very telling.

"Oh my! Well, we better get this one cleaned up and ready for bed!" He had to ignore his cock which was still throbbing in between his legs, but now nicely tucked away in his pants. Not to worry, he'll make sure you pay for leaving him with this ache in between his legs, just as soon as he lets you recover from this little adventure. Annddd only three tallys on the board? He'd have to go easy on the aphrodisiacs next time! He scolded himself, as he carried you carefully to the restroom to clean you up himself.

After all, it most certainly won't be the last time you two go on this special little adventure. 

#the amazing digital circus #minors dni #tadc caine #the amazing digital circus caine #caine x reader smut #ringmaster #caine x reader

[luciathcv]

lullabies - jjk

summary: in which everyone is sleep deprived and jungkook helps with some lullabies || warnings: none || genre: fluff, established relationship, parenthood au, dad!jungkook || word count: approximately 700

Your baby was constantly waking you and Jungkook up throughout the night with loud sobs, and this night was no different. You checked on her the first time, going into her room and making sure nothing was wrong and that she wasn't hungry or anything like that, and when she rejected you feeding her, you knew she wasn't. You then checked her diaper to make sure she was okay and she was, it was clean. You even did everything to make her crib as comfortable as possible while still making sure it was safe for her, and yet every once in a while, throughout the night, you were being woken up the sound of her cries.

After the first time, you stopped checking and waited for her to calm down, which after a few minutes, she always did, but it was constant throughout the night and you couldn't take it.

Your head pounded as you woke up for the nth time to the sound of your baby crying. You turned over, now facing the man who was spooning you from behind, to see that Jungkook was also awake now.

"Just try to ignore it, honey. Blair will be okay." Jungkook softly says in an obviously sleepy voice. We were both sleep deprived, but we expected this, and we'd just have to get through it.

I nodded as I shut my eyes and cuddled up to his chest, the both of us lying there for a few minutes as we listened to the sounds of our baby's cries.

I couldn't take it anymore.

I moved away from him and he opened his eyes, looking at me.

"I can't do this. She's crying for longer than usual." I said, which wasn't actually true, but it definitely felt longer than usual this time.

"Okay, I'll go check on her." Jungkook tells me.

"It's okay, I can-" I'm cut off.

"Baby, no. You checked on her last time, it's my turn. Lay down." He said as he pecked my forehead and got out of bed, walking out of the room.

A few minutes later, I could still hear my baby crying next door, but at least she wasn't crying as hard as before. Even though I knew Jungkook was there taking care of Blair, I couldn't help it. I got out of bed and made my way to Blair's room.

When I walked into the Blair's room, I saw Jungkook standing in the middle of the room with her in his arms, swaying back and forth slowly as he softly spoke to her. He looked over at me when I walked in the room, smiling a little at the sight of me.

"You just couldn't resist, could you?" Jungkook softly asked me with a smile and I nodded, walking over to him and putting my hand on Blair's arm, gently rubbing it.

Jungkook handed me Blair and I carefully took her in my arms. He led me to the little sofa and made me sit down. He then stood by Blair and I and started softly singing lullabies. I continued gently rocking her as we both listened to Jungkook singing. Jungkook's hand made his way up to my head as he started gently massaging my head with his hand.

Now, with his singing voice, me rocking Blair, and him massaging my head, along with just the lack of sleep in general; Blair and I were both getting sleepy.

Eventually, without even realizing Blair fell asleep and so did I also I continued to unconsciously rock her in my sleep. Jungkook noticed and he stopped massaging my head. He walked over to Blair and took her from me, gently placing her in the crib. He bent down and gave her forehead a little kiss before walking over to me and picking me up from the chair, carrying me out of the room and back into bed.

I didn't even realize what had happened until I woke up the next morning, tucked into bed, next to Jungkook, who was sleeping next to me. I checked the baby monitor on my nightstand and I saw that Blair was still asleep.

Parenthood is difficult, but it is worth it.

-- link to my masterlist

#luciathcv #bts #bts x reader #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #jungkook imagine #kpop #romance #pregnancy au #established relationship #fluff #dad!jungkook x reader #parenthood au

[sopiao]

(i’ve been searching for the artist since forever 😭😭 only trace of it is from pintrest 🥲)

but könig’s cut looks so fresh omg 🤭 JUST LOOK AT HIS FUCKING HAIR

anyways, a lil snippet of him showing it to you!!

Soldiers can’t have their hair too long, can’t touch the collar, it says. But even with König’s mask, there’s no exceptions. So, he was forced to cut it. For the longest time he managed to get away from it, his hair was so long it was a little past his shoulders, collarbone length.

And you loves it. Loves playing with it, running your fingers through it, playing with it, rubbing suds through his scalp while you wash his hair. You always loved how it was always so soft and shiny, so silky with minimal care. Lucky.

After his first cut, he felt so weird. His head felt lighter, and somehow he feels.. naked? Even with his sniper hood on he still felt naked. For the first couple hours he rubbed his hand against the nape of his neck, feeling how shaved and short it is, so foreign for him.

He was more worried about how you’d react. He knows how much you love playing with his hair, trying new hairstyles you find, tying it in little ponytails or the half-up half-down do. It was 2 weeks until he went on leave. So he had time for it to grow out a little and get more comfortable with it.

His hands are shaky when he unlocks the door. Usually he’s very excited and wastes no time to just rush in and lift you in his arms. He still has his hood on too. König relaxes a little when he enters your shared home, the familiar sound of your playlist hitting his ears, unconsciously putting him at ease.

He steps out of his boots and placed them on the ground next to the entrance. Taking light and quiet steps to make his presence unknown, planning to surprise you. The smell of your food, his favorite meal, almost made him forget about what he was nervous about.

The sight of you doing little dances and singing along to your music while you prepare König’s coming back dinner puts him at ease. Maybe it’s not that bad. Maybe you’ll like it.

When you turn around to grab an ingredient from the island behind you, you catch a glimpse of him entering the room. For a split second you think it’s an intruder, since he never comes home to you with his mask on, but then realize it’s your husband :>

“König!” You squeal, turning off the stove, and excitedly sprinting your way into his arms. The Austrian lovingly accepts your love, engulfing you in his big arms and lifting you off the ground as you squeak in joy.

“Vergib mir, maus. I’m sorry I’m late” He apologizes, looking down at you, his worries immediately washing away and not even wanting to eat, just wanting to lay in your arms and sleep on you for hours, days even.

“Why do you still have your mask on?” You ask, more worried that something happened to him, rather than bothered that he’d hide his face from you. It was quite odd since he’s been very comfortable about his face being seen by you, and now he’s hiding it, just like when you first met.

“Uhm..”

“What?”

König’s arms slowly unwrapped and moved away from you. Hesitantly, he lifted up his sniper hood and set it down on the counter. Eyes down, too scared to look up and see your reaction. You stood still, mouth agape, just taking in the whole new feature.

From the beginning of your relationship till now, he always kept his hair long. Always preferred it that way. He’s not sure how he developed a taste for it. He just started missing his haircuts at a young age and just kept it like that.

This was all so new to you. You could see so much more of his face now. Come to think of it, this is the first time you’ve seen his neck. The more you stared, the more you were amazed with such a change.

“Hm?” König finally took together the courage to look you in the eyes, head still low, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. He couldn’t really decipher what your expression meant. Looked like a mix of shock, surprise. Just couldn’t tell if you liked it or not.

“Oh. My, God” You reach your hands over to his face, first at the base of his neck, then slowly up to cup the sides of his face, slightly squishing his cheeks.

“You look so handsome!” You grin, once you take in every detail, and start to slowly get used to it. He looks up again at you, hands holding onto your wrists softly.

“You like it?” He asked, not sure whether you just lying to make him feel better or being genuine.

“Do you?” He nods in response.

“Then I like it” Smiling once again, you start to run your hands up from the nape of his neck to the back of his head, fingers relaxing between his hair, not very used to how short it is.

“Why’d you cut it?” You ask, slightly tilting his head to get a better view of every angle, not really bothered that he did cut his hair, just curious since this is a big step outside of his comfort zone.

“They made me. Said it’s way past regulations” He sighed and shrugged, missing the feeling of how you’d massage his scalp and scratch his head before bed, making him feel drowsy.

“You look so handsome” You coo quietly under your breath, after a couple seconds of comfortable silence. He’s slightly hunched, his natural posture, to accommodate the height difference between you two. Basking in the familiar and home-like feeling of your touch.

—

After dinner, the two already began to wind down for bed. König takes his usual position next to you, arms around your middle, your leg draped over his, and his head resting on your chest. It took a while to actually get to sleep since König’s hairs was tickling your chest.

When his hair was longer it just draped and laid on your skin. It took some getting used to but soon the two fell asleep, König first. Usually, on most nights, you’d rub his back and scratch his head with the other hand while you hum him— and yourself— to sleep.

#call of duty modern warfare #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #cod men #task 141 #cod headcanons #cod modern warfare #konig headcanons #konig #konig x reader #konig mw2 #cod konig #kortac #konig cod #ghost mw2 #eepy #eepy time

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。LATE — ITOSHI SAE.

✩ — contents ⋮ 18+ content — minors do not interact, gn! reader, somnophilia, handjobs, sae having a nasty lil dream about you <3

✩ — note ⋮ i want to wake him up like this :(

sae never oversleeps—it shocks you, really. sometimes you question how that’s even possible, how he’s able to get up on the first ring of his alarm so effortlessly and not choose to doze off for a few more minutes instead.

you forget he’s only human, that even sae of all people can be susceptible to exhaustion, that even he has his moments where getting out of bed is just too difficult. you watch him for a moment, trace over his peaceful features as he sleeps through his alarm, brush a few loose pieces of hair from his face as he breathes softly. he doesn’t even stir—and you realize how tired he really must be.

but practice starts soon, and you know no matter how tired he is, he’d positively lose his mind if you let him oversleep.

“sae,” you say softly, shaking at his shoulder, making him grunt in his sleep, “wake up. c’mon, you’re gonna be late.”

he groans, crinkles his brows a bit in his slumber before his features relax again, still deep asleep and careless to the time he’s wasting in bed. you almost feel bad, almost want to just let him rest and have a day to himself like you know he deserves—but he’d never let himself do that, and you’d rather deal with a tired sae than a pissy one.

“sae, you gotta get up,” you shake him again, “seriously, you’re not gonna have time for breakfast at this rate,” you huff.

this time he groans again, but you pause when he mumbles your name at the end. and then he lets out another sound—a much softer, breathier, needier sound, one that makes your breath hitch and your eyes slowly trail south. you should be worrying about waking up your rather late boyfriend—but instead, you feel your core ache at the bulge in his boxers, the slight dark spot over his crotch where his hard-on leaks with precum onto the fabric.

“god, sae,” you hiss, “blow your load in your dreams some other time.”

almost like a response to your words, he lets out a whine this time, hips bucking fractionally as if he’s chasing the friction of your touch. you can practically see him twitch in his underwear, practically imagine the flushed red tip and the thick vein that runs along the underside of his cock.

“fuck,” he curses, still asleep, still blissfully unconscious to the world and unaware of the god damn time on the clock as it ticks. you should grab him by the shoulders and shake him, you should act like you never noticed the erotic nature of…whatever it is his dreams consist of—but then he whines your name again, and you can’t help but let out a shaky breath.

you almost feel bad—he’s been so, so busy lately, so many things pulling him every which way. he must be frustrated, must be stressed and so overworked, so filled with tension. and then you decide what kind of lover would you be if you don’t take care of your boyfriend during his clear time of need?

so you carefully cup him through the fabric, earning an instant grunt from him, his hips bucking into your touch and chasing the pressure of your hand.

“aw, baby,” you pout sympathetically, “must hurt, huh?”

he can’t hear you—he’s still snoring softly, but the breathy whine you earn tells you everything you need to know. so you slowly tug down the waistband of his boxers, tuck it under his heavy balls and let his cock free as he hisses slightly at the cool air. like you suspected, it’s painfully red at the tip, swollen and leaking with pre cum that you carefully gather with your thumb and smear along his length.

“f-fuck,” he gasps, and this time he stirs a bit, shifting in the sheets to chase your touch. you wrap your hand around his pulsing cock, making him moan lowly, brows furrowing as you slowly stroke along the length.

“sae,” you sing, “time to get up, you know.”

“sh-shit, ‘s gotten into you?” he mumbles as he finally wakes up, blearily opening his eyes and blinking up at you. “what time is it?”

“late,” you say simply, “might as well let me have my fun.”

and then you run your thumb along his slit, making him curse as he lets out a low groan. your fist tightens around his thick cock, stroking up and down as you drag along every vein on his sensitive length.

“jesus,” he hisses, “th-this early?”

“don’t look at me,” you snort, “it was your dream, not mine. at least you called my name—i’d kill you if you moaned someone else’s.”

“fuck,” he pants, cheeks stained with that soft blush that makes a dull ache form between your own legs at the sight. “faster,” he demands—like he’s not the one who didn’t just give you all this trouble to wake him, like you’re not the one who so graciously has his dick in your hands as you take care of him.

but sae’s had a rough week, you can see it in the tension between his brows as he furrows them, in the tightness of his jaw that he clenches, in the white knuckles of his hands as he fists the sheets.

“wanna tell me what you dreamt?” you tease, earning a scoff from him that ends in a grunt. “did i touch you just like this?”

“no, you actually went faster,” he shoots back, glaring at you through hazed eyes and sweat clung to his forehead. “if you’re not gonna do shit, then—oh, g-god,” he cuts himself off when your fist tightens its grip and strokes him fast, merciless—making his mouth part and his breath hitch. “f-feels good,” he pants, “‘m close.”

you can tell he is with the way he twitches in your hand, making you grin, “better make it quick,” you say, eyeing the time, “you’re gonna be extra late.”

“ngh—” he cums almost instantly, breath erratic as he pants your name softly through his high. he looks pretty, flushed face and parted lips, breathy moans blessing your ears as thick, hot ropes of cum paint your hand and his abs white. you milk him of every drop, squeezing around the fat tip of his cock with every upstroke of your fist.

“that’s it, baby,” you coo, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his jaw, “you look so pretty when you cum for me.”

he’s lax against the mattress once he’s rode out his orgasm, panting to catch his breath as he whimpers at the sensitivity when you stroke him a few more times before finally pulling away. it’s late—he’s late, but you think it’s not entirely a bad thing with how relaxed he now looks. the most relaxed he’s looked all week, you think proudly.

“how late am i?” he finally asks, cracking an eye open and staring up at you.

“just a bit,” you giggle, leaning down and pressing your lips to his. he kisses back, hums against your mouth before flipping you onto your back and twisting to hover over you.

“well, if i’m already late,” he says lowly, making you shiver as he nips at your jaw, “might as well make the most of it, huh?”

he has eaten me up whole send help

#teepods.writings #thirstee! #thirsts. #sae x reader #sae x you #sae smut #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae smut #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock smut #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bllk smut

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1

Eddie’s coming home from the hospital today, and Steve is quietly singing along to love songs like they’re on the radio, but they’re not; they must be just in his head.

Dustin wants to enjoy it, wants to simply look forward to calling the others; they have an ongoing list of songs Steve has sung unconsciously, ranked according to various degrees of embarrassment, the current winner being his butchering of German in Rock Me Amadeus.

But he can’t. He can’t enjoy any of it.

There’s a window open in the car.

Steve keeps it down unless it’s crazy bad rain, ever since he found out that Erica can get motion sick sometimes.

Dustin grips onto his knees.

He’d tried to convince himself it was all centred around the hospital. That he could contain it.

But now he’s in Steve’s car (Steve’s car! Familiar and safe, where there’s still that streak of mud along the inside of the door from Dustin’s sneakers); he’s in Steve’s car trying not to breathe, because every time he does, he sees those damn particles floating in front of him.

“Okay, what?” Steve says, sounding both amused and resigned.

Dustin sucks in the slightest amount of air that he can manage. “Hmm?”

“Dude, I know you. Whenever you’re this quiet, you want something from me.”

“That’s an erroneous conclusion,” Dustin says.

Steve is meant to say something like oh yeah, erroneous, blah, blah, blah.

But Dustin knows his delivery is off when Steve just gives him a sideways glance while they’re stuck in traffic—knows that Steve misinterprets whatever look is on his face, because the driver window is being quickly wound down, too.

“Hey, do you feel sick? I can pull over.”

“I’m good,” Dustin says, only just managing to suppress a shiver as more cold wind seeps inside.

Steve doesn’t seem particularly happy with that answer, but the traffic starts moving again, leaving him with no choice but to drive on.

“Okay, just—we’ll be five minutes tops, all right? Just look at the, uh, horizon.”

Dustin looks ahead.

Doesn’t mention that all he can see is what the sky looked like from the trailer roof.

-

There’s a stack of books at the end of Eddie’s hospital bed—Steve’s gone back to the car to get a cardboard box for them. Dustin spots Nancy’s copy of Little Women on the top of the pile.

(During a visit where Nancy had driven him over, Eddie had made them wait in the corridor for a full five minutes before telling them they could come in, and when they did he was clutching the book with red-rimmed eyes, staring at Nancy so accusingly that Dustin couldn’t help but laugh.

“Beth?” Nancy had said, fighting a smile at Eddie’s melodramatic sigh.

Eddie mimed throwing the book at her, careful not to actually damage it. “Fucking Beth.”)

Another book’s in danger of slipping off the edge of the bed; Dustin catches it before it can fall. Peter Pan. He flicks it open, sees a childishly crooked Property of Steve written in pencil on the title page.

Eddie’s pressing some folded clothes into a bag on the other side of the bed. He looks up.

And Dustin suspects that when he went to the bathroom, Steve and Eddie must’ve had some sort of conversation about him, because Eddie says, “Go sit down, I’ve got this,” like Dustin’s the one who’s been recovering in hospital.

“What, scared I’ll rip your books?” Dustin asks, and this time he knows he’s hit just the right tone of normality, just the right mixture of teasing and petulant, because Eddie snorts.

“Shuddup,” he says, and then he lunges for Dustin, ruffling his hair. His hand lingers for a second, tilting so the back of it touches Dustin’s forehead.

“What the hell?” Dustin says, shoving him off playfully.

Eddie’s still grinning from their tussle, but it fades a bit as he gives Dustin a once-over.

“Thought you looked a little peaked,” he says with a shrug.

Dustin forces an eye roll. “I’m fine.”

Eddie seems to accept that, but he pours an extra glass of water and leaves it on the table; and when Dustin takes it, his mouth opens, and Dustin silently pleads inside his head don’t ask me, don’t ask me, and—

Steve’s voice echoes down the corridor, soft and lilting: Islands in the Stream.

Eddie chuckles. “That’s another one for the list,” he tells Dustin, but his eyes glitter like he doesn’t find it embarrassing at all, and when he’s bundling up the books, his fingers trace the front cover of Peter Pan like it’s a rare gem.

Oh, Dustin thinks. Then: You’re so happy.

Steve enters the room with the cardboard box held aloft like it’s a trophy, and Eddie laughs, makes a quip: “Jesus Christ, we’re not at one of your basketball games, Steve.”

Steve grins, briefly bends his knees as if on the basketball court. “You wish.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, shoots Dustin a look as if to say who does this guy think he is?

But his eyes are saying something else.

He passes the books over to Steve, chatting easily about whatever chapter he’d got up to, and their hands touch with such casual intimacy. There should be no space for them to worry here, Dustin decides—and so, for the rest of the day, commits to being the most carefree, boisterous version of himself he can manage.

-

It gets to the point where the window in his room is permanently shut.

Where he suddenly has this awful feeling of doubt—that this is something he should’ve called a code red over long ago.

He calls Will, twisting the phone cord around his fingers over and over, so tightly that it hurts.

“Will, you know when. Your—your episodes. The Mindflayer. What. What did it feel like?”

The ensuing silence makes shame run down his spine, cold as ice.

But when Will speaks, he doesn’t sound hurt, or even the slightest bit frightened.

“Why?” he asks.

“It.” Dustin grits his teeth. “I’m worried it might. Might be happening again.”

Another silence, and then Will says, very gently, “Dustin, it’s all closed off. I can’t feel anything anymore.”

“Okay.” Dustin blinks back the sudden burning in his eyes. “Okay.”

“You… you know you can talk to me, right?” Will says, tentative and kind, too kind, because Will is the kid who disappeared, who’s had to deal with all this shit for years, stuff that Dustin could never—

“Yeah,” Dustin says.

“My mom, she’ll be home soon,” Will says, rushed suddenly, like he can sense Dustin’s about to hang up, “if you wanna—”

“Yeah, thanks, I’ve gotta go,” Dustin says all in one breath, and ends the call.

And he realises something—kind of hates himself for it. That if The Upside Down was really back, he would’ve felt terrified, sure, but also…

Relieved.

Because the alternative is that the problem is him.

#dustin henderson has ptsd #dustin henderson fic #steddie with dustin’s pov #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #eddie and dustin #steve and dustin #henderfam #dustin henderson #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #dustin and will

[femsolid]

“I started to become interested in Britney Spears’ journey around four years ago, when I noticed that she always looked disconnected in social media videos and photographs. Her communication seemed odd. Her eye contact and body language weren’t right, and I had commented that she was extremely traumatised, but likely to be taking medication of some sort. I wondered whether she, like many of the women and girls I was working with, was being subjected to the same process of pathologisation and control.

In 2019, one of the attorneys in the conservatorship case claimed that Britney was so mentally ill that she was like ‘a comatose patient’ and that she couldn’t make any decisions or sign any statements because she was the equivalent of an unconscious person. I started to feel that my worries were being confirmed. How could she simultaneously be so lacking in capacity that she was the equivalent of a person in a coma, and also be performing at a residency in Las Vegas every single night? How could people around her be claiming that she was so mentally ill that she needed round-the-clock supervision and medication, but she was still well enough to perform for hours? Something wasn’t right.

The world has watched whilst Britney Spears rose to fame dressed in ‘sexy schoolgirl’ uniform dancing in a school gym, singing ‘hit me baby, one more time’. They watched as she became a global phenomenon and sex symbol. They laughed as she was chased endlessly by the press. As she struggled to cope. As she shaved her head. As she struggled to keep custody of her children. As she was sectioned and medicated. As she was forced to perform in Las Vegas whilst being regularly medicated to control and subdue her. As she was locked into a conservatorship for thirteen years by her abusive father.

Prior to her solo artist career, she had been a famous child star of Disney’s The Mickey Mouse Club along with Ryan Gosling, Justin Timberlake and Christina Aguilera. She regularly performed songs and dance routines and acted. At fifteen years old, she signed a record deal. I was eight years old when ‘Hit me baby, one more time’ came out. I watched it on the TV and didn’t know she was just a child until much later, when I was an adult working in child sexual exploitation services. I looked back on the video and wondered how old she was when they sexualised her and sold her to the world. I did a quick Google search. Sixteen. I thought about her song titles and music videos. ‘I’m a Slave 4 U’ was curiously released on the same album as ‘Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman’ when she was eighteen years old. Interestingly, both produced by Pharrell Williams, the producer of ‘Blurred Lines’ with Robin Thicke – widely considered to be a misogynistic, pro-rape song about objectifying women. In ‘I’m a Slave 4 U’ and ‘Boys’ (again on the same album), she is positioned as a sex-crazed woman who will do anything for men. Yet ‘Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman’ positions her as a child, coming of age, and being stuck in between childhood and adulthood.

Between 1998 and 2001, her management released an incredible number of songs and music videos that clearly portrayed her as sexy, sultry and out of reach. Sometimes, I wonder how much of that was deliberately paedophilic and illegal. The ‘jailbait’ trope. That men knew she was a child, but she was being positioned as a sexual adult. This included being interviewed several times about whether she was a virgin, when she lost her virginity, and whether she had a boyfriend yet.

My next strongest memory of Britney was in 2003, when she released ‘Everytime’. The video was harrowing. I was thirteen years old, and even I noticed that something was very wrong. She was singing about pain and trauma. The music video featured her dying of an overdose in the bath and drowning. I watched it with horror. She wanted to die. Her portrayal of suicide was calm, peaceful and final. She is shown as having an out-of-body experience in which she sees herself being pulled out of the bath by a man and rushed to hospital, whilst paparazzi scramble to take pictures of her body. This video still haunts me; in fact, it hurts more to watch now than it did then. Here was a very young woman, shot into global stardom, sexualised and sold as a teenage sex object, struggling to cope with the pressure, and now depicting her own death. In 2008, her mother Lynne told the press that her daughter had ‘lost her virginity’ to an eighteen-year-old man when she was just fourteen years old, and way below the age of consent. She had started drinking at thirteen years old whilst working on The Mickey Mouse Club, and had started taking drugs at fifteen years old. In her memoir, Lynne recalls finding cocaine and weed in her daughter’s bag as she was boarding a private jet around the time ‘Baby One More Time’ was released.

In 2007 Britney was filmed having a ‘public breakdown’ and shaving her hair off. A month later, after being hounded by tipped-off paparazzi, she hit a car with an umbrella. This led to global media outlets framing her as violent, psychotic, insane and a bad mother to her children. Despite everything she was going through, and previously being regarded as a national treasure, she was framed as dangerous and disordered. She was then reportedly in and out of ‘rehab’ for years, sectioned several times and placed on psychiatric medication. At the end of 2007, her father, Jamie, placed Britney under a ‘temporary conservatorship’ which lasted over thirteen years. During this time, concerns slowly mounted amongst her loyal fanbase, who believed for years that she was being exploited and controlled. They argued that she was in danger, and being treated like a prisoner. They pointed to evidence on her social media which suggested that she was trying to carefully get messages to her fanbase that she was in danger. In 2009, they created a FreeBritney website, and demanded that her conservatorship was ended. In November 2021, Britney filmed and posted a video to her fan base, and specifically thanked the FreeBritney movement for ‘saving her life’, and ‘noticing that something was wrong’.

As the years have passed, I’ve watched as rising child stars such as Miley Cyrus, Selena Gomez, Ariana Grande, Demi Lovato and Lindsay Lohan were taken down similar pathways of hypersexualisation and then pathologisation that were publicly discussed, but for some reason, not publicly scrutinised. Well, the girls were scrutinised, of course. Not so much scrutiny was afforded to the managers and corporations who had clearly developed a blueprint for transforming their cute child stars into pornified sex objects overnight. Sometimes it felt like they had deliberately removed their successful female child stars from the limelight for short periods of time and then relaunched them as sex siren pop stars – when they were barely seventeen years old.

Miley Cyrus became famous for her starring role in Hannah Montana, in which she played a young famous popstar who has to disguise herself to enable her to live a normal life. However, by the age of fifteen, she was relaunched from actor to solo artist. Her songs were carefully constructed to be sexy, but almost acceptable – a teenager singing about her relationships or her crushes. In 2010, at seventeen years old, her management released ‘Can’t Be Tamed’, a song which describes her as crazy, sexy, wild, damaged, jagged and uncontrollable. In the video, she is dressed as a wild, exotic, sexy animal in a large cage, that rich people have paid to see. She becomes uncontrollable and difficult to tame, the rich people become frightened of her, and so the video is designed to position her as sexy, but out of control. Her clothing is ripped and shredded. Her makeup is dark. Her hair is wild.

It is vital to remember that she is not only a child at this point, but is still starring in a Disney children’s programme with a viewership of millions of small children. It is therefore interesting that some critics have speculated that this could be a deliberate process that Disney use to move their young audience towards their pop stars as they age with them. This journey towards sexy, but ultimately, mentally ill, continues for years in her career. By 2013, her music videos regularly showed her almost naked, taking drugs, and being encouraged to be as sexualised as possible. Huge smash hits such as ‘We Can’t Stop’ and ‘Wrecking Ball’ deliberately portrayed her as sexy, but disordered. Naked, but crying into the camera. Beautiful, but aggressive. Laughing but angry. Intoxicated. Exhausted. Messy. Wild. Uncontrollable. Sexy. I also have to wonder what the significance is of Miley crying into the camera with a shaved head in ‘Wrecking Ball’. Why, and how, was she positioned as sexy but psycho? In 2019, tabloids reported that Miley’s family were considering having her sectioned, in order to save her marriage to Liam Hemsworth. A source told the NW that ‘it was clear she was back in a dark place, and her family are telling her to face up to her demons and seek psychiatric treatment before it’s too late. If it saves her marriage, it will be a small price to pay.’ This is particularly distressing to read, considering that around that time she had come out as bisexual, and less than a year later, she came out as lesbian, and was in a relationship with a woman.

Selena Gomez recently announced that she had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, anxiety and depression having been put through the same process of sexualisation and framing as sexy, but psycho. Again, after being sent to a psychiatric hospital, she was told she was mentally ill.

In 2011, after yet another career which took her from Disney child star to sex object popstar in a matter of  months, an eighteen-year-old Demi Lovato was ‘sent to rehab’ and diagnosed with bipolar disorder. She quickly became the poster child for many mental health organisations looking to ‘raise awareness’ of bipolar disorder. In 2018, she took a near fatal overdose. However, she gave an interesting interview in 2020, in which she stated that she had been misdiagnosed with bipolar disorder, and that it seemed easier for doctors to slap a label on her anger and behaviour and tell her it was bipolar disorder. In her own words, ‘bipolar was used as a convenient excuse’ for what was really happening. Similarly to Miley Cyrus, Demi gave an interview in 2021 in which she said ‘I hooked up with a girl and was like, “I like this a lot more.” It felt right.’ She went on to say, ‘I know who I am and what I am, but I’m just waiting until a specific time to come out.’ Demi said that she would feel a ‘visceral reaction to being intimate with men’, and ‘blamed herself for ignoring red flags that she was not heterosexual’. This strikes me as important, that young girls and women who might not even be heterosexual were having their young female bodies exploited, sexualised and moulded for the male gaze by multimilliondollar corporations – causing serious psychological trauma that would later be diagnosed in terms of psychiatric disorders.

Ariana Grande was quickly sexualised as a young teenage girl, and then put through the exact same process as the others. She has spoken publicly about her depression and anxiety, and says that since the terrorist bombing of her Manchester concert in 2017, she hates performing. What is interesting about Ariana’s experiences is that rather than being labelled as bipolar or psychotic like the others, the public sympathised with her trauma from the terrorist attack, and see that as a real, tangible trauma. Instead, then, she was diagnosed with PTSD and her loyal fanbase promised to support her, even if she cancelled her tour dates.

Lindsay Lohan, on the other hand, was bullied for years for her public ‘breakdown’ and drug dependency, despite disclosing domestic abuse and other traumas related to child stardom, sexualisation and pathologisation. Lindsay was diagnosed with ADHD after ‘erratic behaviour’, which UCLA have argued is a misdiagnosis, leading her to be treated with Adderall. This drug is known to have similar effects to cocaine and amphetamines. However, she was also diagnosed with bipolar and alcohol dependency, which led to her living for several years on a cocktail of Dilaudid, Ambien, Adderall, Zoloft, Trazadone and Nexium. When she was twenty-four, doctors who felt she had been misdiagnosed helped to wean her off these drugs using careful tapering methods until she was completely medication-free. Her story – of yet more abuse, trauma and pathologisation – is a sobering read. A young child star who was struggling was diagnosed with several psychiatric disorders she never had, medicated for years and then publicly mocked and criticised as crazy and promiscuous: a hot mess.

Whilst I have focused on Disney stars here, it would be wholly inaccurate to state that this journey is limited to their franchise. All of them struggled with their traumas, stress, abuse or pressure of some kind. All of them were, at some point, positioned as wild, out of control, mentally ill, problematic or attention seeking. Instead of a humanistic response to what had been done to them, the public were encouraged to laugh along, gossip, harass them and speculate about their ‘breakdowns’.”

-  Sexy but Psycho: How the Patriarchy Uses Women’s Trauma Against Them by Jessica Taylor

#quote #sexy but psycho #britney spears #demi levato #lindsay lohan #miley cyrus #psychiatry #media

[i-writes-things]

HI! I want to say that I love you writing a lot, It's so good💖.

I was wondering if you could write (is you don't want to it's fine) Natasha x Teen!daughter reader where reader goes on a mission with Steve, but she doesn't come back and everyone is doing everything to find her but it's like only a few days later that they find her injured. (you can choose what happened and where they find and rescue her) and can you do it as a reader insert (if you don't want to that's totally fine.)

Thank you :) keep up the good work!💜

Aw thank you!

I haven't posted in a while.

So Mama!Nat seems like a good reboot to start with.

"Hey, mom."

"What the hell were you thinking." Natasha growls at Steve before glancing at you.

"I wasn't." Steve starts, "I was unconscious. Y/n saved us. Me, really."

"That I did." Y/n is laying uncomfortably in the grass, her leg propped up. "Barely."

"Steve, I told you to keep her in your sights."

"I did-"

"He was, Mom!"

"Y/n, this isn't your mess." She turned back to scold Steve, but Y/n wasn't having it.

"Not my mess. I'm the one who cleaned the whole damn thing up!" Steve mumbled something with his head down as Natasha turned back toward her daughter. "I dragged Steve out. I cleared the building, I got the hard drive, I was the one who contacted you! Steve was out cold up until 10 hours ago!" Wishing she could stomp away right about now, Y/n huffed and worked on moving herself to a better position. Natasha was silent, tapped her shoe on the ground. Steve walked away.

"Bruce!" He went looking for the little green man.

"I'm sorry."

"For-"

"For forgetting you're not my 8 year old babygirl, who accidentally lit fireworks in the Compound, anymore." She lowered herself to meet Y/n. "You're now," She pulled your chin back towards her "my brave, ambitious and amazing young woman." Taking a glance at your swollen knee, she whispers, "I'm so proud of you."

"I tripped an alarm." You began, "Steve was sitting out in the hall and I thought," Steve and Bruce's footsteps could be heard.

"I thought I was gonna be attacked!" Y/n voice totally changes, leaving Natasha suspicious and Steve told Bruce to listen in. "I mean he was coming for me, Steve," She gestured to him "out in the wall and they gotten me and silly unconscious Steve cornered, quite easily actually." Natasha stared at Y/n trying to get the whole story. She couldn't find a reason. "I had him in choke hold-" Steve threw his hand in the air and Bruce took Steve over to a makeshift table to look "I just tripped." Y/n looked down at her stupid swollen knee.

"What?"

"We weren't cornered, I only had to take down maybe 3 guys. Be that was way before this. I thought I could be cool and do a flip off the wall. Try to at least, I was feeling it and I tripped as I ran to the wall."

"Thank god." Natasha closes her eyes in thanks.

"What? That I fell? Thanks mom. Love you too."

"Young lady, we both know you would have needed stitches if you tried that." Y/n huffed feeling defenseless.

"Whatever."

"So you tried to tell Steve a cooler story." She cocked an eyebrow.

"Tried? I did tell him a way cooler story. Now he thinks more of me! Goal Accomplished!" Y/n smiled, pumping a fist in the air.

"Oh. my. god. Your gonna have to tell him."

"Mom, no." You dreaded this.

"Y/n, yes!" She booped your nose. "You tell him or I do!" She said in a sing song voice. Y/n groans and stands with Natasha's help, wobbling back to the Quin jet.

"I hate Steve sometimes you know that. Why can't he just be oblivious? Mom pleeasse!"

"Okay baby, I'll tell him."

"No no. I will fine fine, you've convinced me. You're so mean." Y/n and Natasha continued to hobble along on the grass.

"Love you too." Natasha waves Steve and Bruce back and they all ride home together.

#avengers #natasha romanoff #platonic #imagines #mama nat #mama nat <3 #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x platonic!reader #natasha romanoff x teen!reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff x female #mama!nat x daughter!reader #mother daughter relationship #steve rogers #bruce banner #quinjet #platonic avengers #avengers x reader #anon requests

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

A/N ::: This is mostly SFW with a few little NSFW's at the end. I'll put a cut there for those of you that don't wanna see that part.

Breakup HC's

SFW mostly

When you break up with Draken, he's a hot mess for a minute. He stops eating.

Starts sleeping anywhere but his bed because it still smells like you. Mikey's house. Takashi's couch. Anywhere he can catch a minute of peace and drift off into an unconscious bliss.

He can't look anywhere without seeing your face.

Can't listen to anything without hearing your sweet, pretty voice singing along.

He stops showering for a while.

Stops braiding his hair, settling for a top knot instead. It doesn't matter, anyway, if you're not there to play with it. He might even just shave the shit off. What's the point of having hair if no one is going to run their fingers through it while you’re watching a movie together or if they play with it while you’re out on a midnight bike ride/fun run. 

Doesn't eat much anymore. Nothing tastes as good if you don't make it.

Quits watching tv. He seems to always find himself flipping through channels around the same time of the day (when your favorite shows were on).

Promises that he's going to wash all of his clothes "soon" to get the last remaining fibers of your being off of them.

Can't bring himself to change his sheets just yet, despite him avoiding them like the plague.

Doesn't bitch about how sad he is to many people. Just his really close friends. Mostly Takemichi because no one he knows is more in touch with their feelings than he is. Takemichi just gets it.

(NSFW-adjacent under the cut)

When he does shower, either from being able to smell himself or the guys literally dragging him kicking and screaming into his bathroom, he tries to but fails at jerking off. Thinking about your pretty mouth wrapped around the head of his cock. Licking and sucking on him. It just makes him more sad. 

One of the guys would take him out one night to a stripclub. But not anyone that is close to him like Mikey, Mitsuya. They would understand the hurt he's feeling and probably respect that. For a little while, at least.

They'd buy him a lapdance with a stripper that looks the exact opposite of you to help him forget about you. But while she's shaking her bare ass in his face and rubbing her tits, making that slutty face at him trying to get a reaction, Draken can't even feel his dick twitch.

When Draken finally musters up enough ... life force (? cuz we all know that's what it takes sometimes to get off your ass after a bad break up) to do laundry, he fuckin' finds a pair of your panties. His favorites on you. There was nothing special about them. They were white cotton with lace around the waistband and tiny pink hearts scattered all around. He just always thought they were cute. Mikey walked in and yanked them from his hand and threw them in the toilet and flushed them.

"The fuck, Mikey!" Draken said. He was so worn out that he couldn't even find the energy to yell about it.

"You'll thank me later, Kenchin. You'll thank me later."

Taglist ::: @arlerts-angel @darkstarlight82

#draken headcanons #tokrev #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x you #tokrev x you #tokrev x reader #tokyo rev x reader #draken #ken ryuguji #ryuguji ken

[ughgojo]

—𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐈 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐘𝐔𝐔 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐃𝐎

ft: bokuto kōtarō, iwaizumi hajime, matsukawa issei, miya osamu, suna rintarou, kageyama tobio

synopsis: little drabbles of quirks/headcanons i think haikyuu boys have

content warnings: none.

notes from the author: wake up babe, new ughgojo post just dropped! not but srsly this is a repost from my other blog that i just revised lol i’m going to try n come out with better content in the future i kinda missed writing. likes, comments, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated ofc.

#— BOKUTO KŌTARŌ

he talks in his sleep. it’s usually incoherent words or phrases you can’t make out most of the time. although one time you could make out a small ‘i love you’ from him and it made your heart melt. unconsciously grabs for you if you aren’t cuddling him when he’s sleep. and then quite literally bear hugs you. you stay in one position the entire night because you can’t move out of his grip sometimes.

#—IWAIZUMI HAJIME

sooooo attentive. especially attentive to things you’d think he wouldn’t care to remember. so if you rearranged something minor in your room? he’ll ask you about that. didn’t order your usual at a restaurant? he’s gonna question you. you find it very cute that he remembers such small details or literally pays so much attention to you. i also think he also does that thing where he has your restaurant order or your favorite things in the notes app of your contact. such a thoughtful man pls

#— ISSEI MATSUKAWA

he is a big fan of beyoncé like omg. so when he’s sure he’s all alone he’s definitely shirtless with some sweats on and is singing his life away to her songs in front of his mirror. hanamaki and oikawa caught him once singing to ‘kitty kat’ and got it on camera, he’s still clueless about it but they showed the video to iwaizumi and now they all have a hearty laugh whenever they see him. very confused about it but doesn’t question it.

#— MIYA OSAMU

cooks you food whenever you’re sad. didn’t really know how to comfort you when you first started dating so food would just randomly appear when you weren’t feeling the best. now it’s his love language. of course he had gotten better at comforting you but, he still makes food for you because you’ve grown to love it. having a bad day? he’ll run you a bath and once you’re out you have a hot home cooked meal in front of you along with osamu being your listening ear, letting you destress.

#— SUNA RINTAROU

does that thing where he flips his blanket to cover his feet completely. but when he does that the blanket also slides down so it stays at his shoulders since he’s so tall. so he has this ongoing battle between whether he wants his feet or shoulders to be out when he sleeps. so because of that, you got him a bigger blanket so he doesn’t have to choose and he literally thanks you for it every night.

#— KAGEYAMA TOBIO

it’s canon that he takes very good care of his hands so he gets mani pedis every other weekend. and if he isn’t able to go to the salon one day he’ll do an at home kit and it’s just as effective. it’s basically like a little spa day for him. basically cancels all of the plans he can for the day so he can treat himself to a day of doing self-care.

#— signed: haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x black reader #haikyuu fluff #bokuto x reader #bokuto fluff #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi fluff #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa fluff #osamu x reader #osamu fluff #suna x reader #suna fluff #kageyama x reader #kageyama fluff

[thelittleliars]

Eventful concert

Natasha Romanoff x Singer Fem!Reader Black Widow x Female Singer Reader

Warnings: mention of depression and being suicidal

Words: 1.7k

Summary: The Avengers couldn't prevent hydra from attacking you during one of your concerts.

AN: Not proof read. I somehow wrote this all today without having a writers block or ideas falling flat! Also since it's October 2023 *cough* Endgame events happening *cough* this is a part of remembering Natasha Romanoff. Nat moya lyubov, I will love and remember you forever 😭🖤

You heard tons of screaming fans as soon as the lights went dark. Usually you'd start with a bit of dancing and walking around from one end of the stage to the other, but you couldn't do it that night since you had a fractured foot. Instead you limped with one of the two crutches you had towards the middle of the stage where your microphone stood. When you were on your mark for the night, lights turned back on and shone on you. "Hi everyone! How are y'all doing?" You asked the crowed in which you got only screaming as an answer. "I'm excited to be here tonight. New York City baby!!!" The crowed was excited and hyped as you said the city you were in right then. You were the same back in the day when you went to concerts and you favorite artists said your hometowns name. It was always something special. "Unfortunately I fractured my foot last night and I can not give you all a 100% performance as I usually do but I hope this slowed down show is still something you'll enjoy." You smiled as you heard some get well soon's and we love you's. "Alright let's get started!!" 

The first song was a faster more upbeat and happy one. You tried your best walking with a single crutch in one hand and the microphone in your other hand from one side to the other side. Just because you needed crutches didn't mean  you wouldn't walk around to see all of your fans. You loved seeing your fans, interact with them and hear them sing the lyrics with you. The second song was slower than your first one but still faster than most of your work. It was also more of a song that was about the struggle of finally finding happiness again after dark patch. As your third and fourth song you played the saddest songs you'd ever written. They still broke your heart each night you sang them but the pain was worth it since you knew they were fan favorites and helped them as much as they helped you. 

"Thank you all so much for coming and singing along. I just wanted to make sure to let you all know that you're welcome here for whatever reason you came tonight for. It's valid if you came for only to see me and do nothing more than look at me. It's valid if you came here because I'm a lesbian artist and you wanted some safe space to relax. It's valid if you came because you can relate to my depressed and suicidal lyrics. I'm here for you all. I love you all. And thank you for having enough energy to come here tonight." You looked at your pianist and gave her a signal for them to start playing slowly. "Since I'm here in New York right now, I decided to play a cover of a huge song back in 2009. If you know it, please sing along." It was 'Empire State of Mind' by Alicia Key and Jay-Z that you decided to cover a small portion off and the crowd went absolutely wild as soon as they recognized which song it was. With fans shouting the lyrics and them screaming in general you nearly missed hearing security through your ear piece saying that there was a breach. After that somehow chaos broke out. Fans were screaming in fear and tried to leave the venue to get to a safe place. Your pianist was about to reach you to get you to safety when a huge bald guy launched at you. You tried to fight the best you could. If you hadn't your crutch you were helplessly lost. He got some good punches on you though but before you got knocked unconscious, he was flung through the entire room. Confused of what had happened you tried to move your head but two hands came out of nowhere and held your face steady in place. You looked up only for the first thing to see red hair falling down to your face. Your vision then cleared more and you saw the most mesmerizing green eyes you had ever seen in your entire life. "Let your head rest like this for a minute first. You shouldn't move your head too fast too, you might have a concussion from the brutal hits you received." When the sound of her voice hit your ears it felt like the wind got knocked out of you. Her voice was so warm and soothing but at the same time raspy and sexy. 

"I-I-I'm Y/N" You stuttered out like an idiot. She simply gave you a genuine smile. "Yeah I know." She said before she helped you up slowly. After she made sure you were good and there was no sign of a concussion she introduced herself. "I'm Natasha." Oh lord. You thought. A pretty girl with an even more prettier name. How will your lesbian ass ever not fall in love at first sight? "Let's get you backstage."

"What? No, I can't go." You started to protest. "I need to make sure that my fans will be alright!" 

"Don't worry. They're safe." She gave you your crutch. "I saw the Avengers out there helping." You took your crutch and you both started to walk very slow in the direction of the backstage. She kept a close step near you in case you loose your strength. "The Avengers..?" You said confused but by the look of her gaze it was as if you should know them. Out of fun you acted as if you realized that you them. "Ohh yeah sure THE Avengers.."

The sarcastic remark shocked Natasha a bit. After what happened with the Civil- War they caused she was sure that everyone knew about them. "You-you don't know the Avengers?"

Your face fell stone cold. "God damn why do americans always assume that people know for sure every single person in their stupid country.." You huffed down the couple of stairs that would get you behind the stage leading to your backstage room. Natasha was close behind you giving you room to take the steps at your pace. "I'm not american." She almost said it in an angry tone. You stopped when you finished going down the stairs. "But your accent...? You don't- I'm sorry for assuming." Natasha stepped closer to you before speaking in russian. ">No worries darling<" Your knees suddenly gave in a bit, the redhead was quick to steady you by having a good grip on your waist. There was this churning feeling deep inside of your stomach as she touched you again. How come that you felt like you just fell in love with her? This was insane, it possibly couldn't have happen this fast, right?

"I think I might really have a concussion." You blamed your little incident on your weak knees instead of the real reason that is your gayness. Though nobody could ever blame you for going weak for a woman, they're women for goodness sake!

Natasha knew you weren't serious but was also going to make sure you were going to see a doctor to rule it out officially. "This must be one hell of a bad day then."

"Being held by a beautiful girl is never a bad day." Natasha didn't know what to say. Men always commented on her body in a sexual way and a bunch of women were always body shaming her so hearing your sincere compliment made her feel a lot of different things. "So I have to ask since I'm too curious for my own good. Are you a fan of mine or just a casual music enjoyer?" Before she could answer she was saved by your manager who came running towards you. "Oh thank god you're alright so far. Or do you have other injury I don't know of?"

"She got pretty harsh hits to her head as you can see by all the blood." Natasha stated the obvious. "I'm no doctor but so I can't rule out a concussion." He nodded as he listened closely. "Is it still far to her room?"

He shook his head. "No but there are another set of stairs." That was enough for Natasha to swoop you up in her arms. You let out a yelp, not expecting to be carried - especially not bridal style. This truly made up for being almost beaten unconscious. Shortly after she sat you down gently on a chair, a doctor came in and made a concussion evaluation. While you were busy with the doctor, Natasha checked in with the other Avengers, said she'd come back to the Tower once you were cleared and stitched up. It didn't take long until the tests were over and you had a stitches on your forehead and temple. You ended up only with a mild concussion and thankfully nothing worse. "About that question earlier.. I'm still interested in an answer."

"Unfortunately neither." She said with a heavy heart since she didn't wanted to see you sad but lying to you didn't see the right choice either. You nodded, she noticed you not being sad or disappointed and that got her wondering what you were thinking about her. "Then what's your reason of coming to my show? There are more than two choices here." At that Natasha opened up about being an Avenger, even explained what that is and also about Hydra, you were shocked to hear it all since you apparently missed a bunch of things that were going on. Not long after her explanation you manager rushed you to get to your tour bus since you had a show the next day in another state. That was how you ended up giving her your cell phone number, even boldly told her to call or send a text since you wanted to give back something for her help. And that was exactly what Natasha did the day she knew you finished touring.

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x you #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #black widow x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #black widow x female reader

[silvantransthranduiltrash]

What if the silvans came across maglor?

Like, the silvans, led by lasgen, are doing a routine check in along the coasts. Basically they keep an eye on everything that’s going on in middle earth, not just mirkwood, but only really interfer with mirkwood bc they do not have the numbers to help all of middle earth but do want to be kept in the loop.

So one day, this group comes across what at first looks like a mound of ratty hair and rags attached to what looks like a corpse.but then it starts moving and singing and the silvans go “oh, ok, so this is an elf”

And then they remember that there’s only 1 elf that they know of that doesn’t live in an established elven haven and that would allow himself to get this bad.

And then their like “oh, ok, so this is Maglor.”

And they drag him back to mirkwood.

Well “drag” is an overstatement. Lasgen picks him up in one arm and doesn’t let go bc he weighs about as much as a toothpick.

So they get to mirkwood and Maglor is promptly shoved into the healing ward bc 1. That’s Miriel’s grandkid. And 2. Even the ones who are still a little pissed at the kinslayings take one look at the sad bag of bones that is maglor and go “yeah, no, i think he payed enough for his sins. This is just sad at this point.”

So the silvans collectivly agressively heal him and smother him in kindness. And maglor has absolutely no idea what the fuck is happening bc he never interacted with silvans and shouldn’t the sindar who survived from doriath hate his guts?

The sindar: babe, at this point hating you feels like kicking an abused puppy. It’s been over an age. We have more important fish to fry.

But despite all that, they can’t stop Maglor from singing about his woes as he’s done for millennia. Everyday. Every hour. He does not shut up unless unconscious.

Eventually they get so sick of it they tell elrond to come get his dad.

Elrond: and to what reason do i have the pleasure of hosting the silvans today?

Legolas, sick and tired of hearing the same sad song for weeks on end: come get your father, his singing is making our forces depressed.

Elrond: ... wha-

Legolas: please, maglor is driving us crazy with his kicked puppy demeanor. He does not understand that our sindars have already forgiven him and his. He keeps wailing and at this point you’re our last hope to get him to stop.

#lord of the rings #silmarillion #lotr #the hobbit #lotr elves #thranduil #legolas #mirkwood #greenwood the great #silvans #sons of feanor #maglor #shamelessly pushing my ‘miriel and thranduil are twins agenda’ #elrond #the mirkwood sindar have already forgiven the son’s of feanor #maglor is driving them crazy with his depressing songs #maglor is elrond’s adoprive father

[fragilecapric0rnn]

LISTEN. I was ready to ride the Steve Becomes A Teacher train all the way home. It’s in my fics, it’s in my planned fics. But but but LISTEN. 

Steve becoming a first responder? 

A little bit post-S4, Steve is driving home to Hawkins after moving to Indy/Chicago/a major city that’s still within reasonable driving distance for him to come see the kids. Eddie is in the passenger seat and they’re zooming down the highway, one of those picture perfect moments where they’re singing along to a Madonna song, that Eddie was complaining about just moments ago. 

Steve, always striving to be the safest driver on the road, mostly because he is almost always transporting precious cargo in the form of his loved ones, isn’t the one who sees it at first. It isn’t until Eddie loudly gasps and points out a pretty horrific car accident unfolding before their eyes in the next lane over. 

Steve pulls off to the side, a fair distance behind wreck. One of the cars is turned completely around in the other direction, the front smashed in. The other cars are also damaged, but the passengers are getting out. No one has gotten out of the turned around car. 

Without a word, without questions from either of them, the two get out of the Beamer. Eddie goes up to the other cars, a woman who’s crying her eyes out and a young family all looking spooked out of their minds, but all seemingly alright. All of this is happening in Steve’s peripheral because he is now sprinting toward the car that no one has gotten out of. He sees the shape of the driver, head laid back on the headrest, unconscious. 

“Don’t move her!” “We need to wait for help!” Bystanders yell at him. Steve doesn’t respond, the driver door now open, as he checks the girl, who looks so young that mental images of one of his kids being in her place flash across his brain, tug at his heart. 

“Eddie!” He yells past the lump in his throat, but it looks like his boyfriend was already reading his mind, as he runs over with the first aid kit that’s always stationed in the trunk of his car. 

He finds her pulse as Eddie settles beside him. He’s checking for broken bones as the girl comes to. He’s telling her to sit back and that everything is okay as Eddie is yelling at the crowd forming around them to back up, he knows what he’s doing. 

Steve gets the flashlight out of the kit, shining it in her eyes, asking her what her name is, what day it is, who the president is, she hesitates to answer but answers all the questions. 

Eddie isn’t sure if this first aid knowledge is from all the times Steve’s been assessed after all the Upside Down shit or if it’s because of his own research, though he realizes as watches Steve keep the girl calm and gently keep her from moving around at all, it’s both. 

Eddie continues to watch when the ambulance gets to the scene. He watches Steve tell the EMTs that the girl is concussed and has no other visible injuries. He watches as they assess her themselves and as they ask Steve if he’s off duty, motioning to his extensive first aid kit. Steve just says he’s had his fair share of emergencies and he knows what he’s doing. 

After the ambulance leaves, Steve and Eddie walking back to their car, even though traffic is backed up all the way to their apartment it seems, Eddie can’t stop thinking about how easily Steve fit into the “hero” role. How, sure, it’s residual Savior Of The World shit, but can’t it also be more now that the world is saved? 

When they’re back on the road, hours later, and close to home, Eddie asks, 

“Have you ever thought about becoming a paramedic?” 

Steve doesn’t say anything. But he’s thinking. No, he hasn’t thought about it. But maybe he should start thinking about it. 

#fic drabble #EMT Steve? I can see it. It's all I can see actually #steddie headcanon #steve harrington #this might be silly but i couldn't stop thinking about it at work #we get a lot of EMTs in the AM and it got me THINKING #my writing #i wrote this speedy quick so sorry in advance for typos or generally being incoherent #first responder steve #sen writes #my fic

[onecantsimply]

Hi there!

If you still take requests, I would like to see your take on Jack with the Reader who always wears a mask, gloves and in all just never really shows their skin, maybe one day he finally did see them without their gloves, while they were cooking or something and when they realize that he's in the same room as them and they aren't hidding their hands, that are covered in burn scars, they quickly put their gloves back on and try to act as if nothing happend.

OMG V FOR VENDETTA-

-

• Jack doesn’t mind the fact that you always have things that cover your skin. But he does wish that you could trust him enough to let him see you.

• You two have been friends for a while, after all. And Jack did get some certain masks from you for him to use.

• You seemed like a kindhearted person, even with your… certain ability to kill people you may view as cruel as the government you’re facing off against.

• Meeting Jack and his obsession with seeing certain colors in others was something you were slightly interested in, but also something you were cautious of.

• Though, upon meeting him in numerous occasions, whether it be in battle or regular times, you had gained an unexpected ally of him in your time.

• So, when you had discovered that Jack was knocked unconscious from his grave wounds, you had decided to take him in and take care of him until he was able to leave on his own again.

• Now, Jack, who had finally woke up, had seemed slightly stunned to see a large surrounding with paintings that he had seen before in other areas. Were these stolen?

• He had also heard a soft tune coming from outside the room. While not far, it wasn’t exactly close, either.

• He then made his way out of the room, taking notice of how he had been bandaged efficiently. It was then that he caught scent of something nice. Eggs and toast?

• Jack made his way to the scent, only to see you in the kitchen, cooking to create that source while humming along with the tune that had played throughout the mansion. His eyes however had drifted down to your hands, which hadn’t been covered in gloves anymore.

• He seemed to frown upon seeing how burnt your hand was. It looked singed, with no sign of repair. Jack had remained silent for a moment, now understanding why you had the gloves on.

• Even through his silence, he had quickly snapped out of it, and called out your name. You looked back at him after flipping the toast and eggs, hearing him thank you about bandaging him.

• Jack had then turned the attention to your hands, in which you had quickly put your gloves on with a small noise of affirmation. You had apologized for it while offering him the plate of food, hoping that you hadn’t put off his appetite because of it.

• He quickly replied in denial of it, gently taking the food. Yet, his curiosity had gotten the better of him, judging from how he had questioned you about your hands.

• “… There was a fire.”

• Yep. He knew where this was going from here-

• As you continued with your story, you started to cook yet again, speaking briefly of a fire a long time ago before regarding it as a not-so-good table conversation.

• You then avoided the topic with an offer to make tea. Jack had gladly accepted, allowing for him to sit down by the table. While he had ate the food you cooked for him, you had poured some tea for him.

• Jack spoke of how delicious it was while you offered him a cup of tea. When he asked where you had gotten the food to cook, you replied with a government supply train.

• Lmfao.

• He seemed amused over that fact, knowing fully well that you were telling the truth. Though, there would be no way that he’d deny food such as this when it’s cooked in such great condition. Even if he did speak of how you were rather stunning. Perhaps even insane for that fact.

• “I dare to all that may become a man; whodares more is none.”

• Jack immediately perked up, pointing it out as Macbeth. To hear the praise from you was unbelievable. Not much even like Shakespeare. So to have you as someone who adores it… he can’t help but enjoy you more.

• He then spoke of how he had read many compilations of Shakespeare’s quotes as if it were a bible to him. Ever since he was a child, that his Father had left the book behind.

• You had questioned where his Father was, in which he had stayed silent for a moment before speaking of how he had killed him. You seemed to stay silent for a moment until he spoke of the play writer that had gotten murdered after his engagement with a rich woman was pronounced.

• Jack himself looked slightly surprised to see that you had also remembered the newspaper.

• Though, you had switched the topic to something else, now lightening the mood by asking if he had wanted more food. He had accepted, wanting more of your cooking.

• And as you got up, you had begun to cook, not bothering to take your gloves off. It seemed to be silent for a while, aside from the soft tune that had been heard throughout the mansion. Jack had suddenly asked if you had any Shakespeare books, in which you had answered that it was in the library.

• In fact, it wasn’t very far either. So, Jack had gladly went in and gotten one of the larger books to read so he had something to do whilst you were cooking.

• He then sat down by the kitchen table, starting to read while the scent of toast and eggs had been wafting around.

• How pleasant.

• Your apron was a bit cute too HH-

#record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok x reader #jack the ripper #jack the ripper record of ragnarok #jack the ripper x reader #snv jack the ripper #ror jack the ripper

[running-with-the-feels]

I will be doing that Kenshi character analysis when I have more free time (life's been hectic lately), but until then, please take my headcanons:

Kenshi chews hard candies. This is apparently a genetic trait since Takeda does the same thing.

Frost's real name is Morya (pronounced mori-ya) and she's Russian and Kazakh.

Her hair was also originally black but turned white with age. Which is a common thing for cryomancers, the fact that Kuai Liang has any black hair at his big age is nothing short of a miracle.

Sonya is a kleptomaniac and was a chronic shoplifter in her early teen years (a habit that took months to break). Nothing big just some snack food but she still finds herself pocketing things she's not supposed to.

Liu Kang's favorite song is One Week by Barenaked Ladies. If he's being honest, it kinda reminds him of his relationship with Kung Lao. (I have so many Liu Kang headcanons it's unreal but I'm going to limit myself to one for this ask)

This one's long:

Bi Han, before being kidnapped by the Lin Kuei, wanted to be an opera singer. He wasn't good at singing to start out, but one of his mom's friends worked at an opera house and was happy to give him free lessons. After being initiated into the Lin Kuei he was banned from indulging in hobbies as they were seen as meaningless. But he continued to practice if he had time on solo missions. He saw it as his own act of freedom/rebellion.

Then Hanzo tore his head off. As Noob he didn't even get to try, since the whole mind control business. Sometimes he'd find himself unconsciously falling back into old habits leading to people being unnerved when Noob fucking Saibot started hitting notes high enough to crack glass at them like some kind of horror movie.

Even after getting his humanity restored, his vocal cords were permanently damaged and pushing his voice too hard results in coughing fits, soreness, and losing his voice for days at a time. And when he does sing, it's strained and sometimes hurts. But if Bi Han's anything it's stubborn so he continues to "build up his tolerance" as he calls it.

EEEEEEEEEE can't wait to see it and I love these

The first time Sonya sees Kenshi chew a hard candy she walks straight into a wall in horror. Cassie does the same when she catches Takeda doing it.

The only people allowed to call Frost Morya are Kuai Liang and Cassie. Kuai Liang only ever does it when she's ill or injured and though she'll never admit it she finds it very comforting, and Cassie calls her that whenever she wants to kiss her really bad (bc Frost always kisses her when she does)

Kuai Liang still has black hair that oddly shows no sign of greying, but his eyes tend to flicker between their normal brown and a terrifyingly bright blue whenever he has a strong emotion, a trait also common in cryomancers.

Johnny is actually Sonya's biggest supporter in breaking her habit of nicking things and is the only person she's ever met that hasn't judged her for it, which she appreciates

Kung Lao's fav song is all star by smash mouth and he's the one who introduced Liu Kang to most of the music that Liu Kang knows (pls tell me your Liu Kang hc if you get the chance, I Beg)

Bi-Han used to sing lullabies to Kuai Liang and Tomáš in the Lin Kuei and Enenra can still be founding humming the tunes along to himself after a hard battle.

Noob got a bit of a reputation as a siren in the Netherrealm bc if you heard him singing it meant you were already dead.

After they resurrected Bi-Han and he began living at the Lin Kuei temple with Kuai Liang, Hanzo eventually came to apologize for killing him, it didn't go well but Hanzo is trying to atone and Bi-Han is struggling to stay angry about it (especially when Kuai Liang wants them to get along so bad)

Hanzo found out about the damage to his vocal chords and sought out an edenian tea said to be able to aid in the healing of such wounds, gifting it to the shadow wielder as part of his apology.

Bi-Han will never admit it but it actually works and being able to sing without pain again, even if only for as long as the tea is in effect, is the first thing to make him really feel human again

#love these hcs dude #bi han #takeda takahashi #kenshi takahashi #liu kang #kung lao #liulao #kuai liang #hanzo hasashi #sonya blade #johnny cage #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x #mortal kombat 11

[raainberry]

Rewind You

« To rewind is to make something go back to the beginning or to an earlier point. »

Sana x gn!reader

Angst

synopsis - your ex’s concert is the last place you should be at after breaking up, yet here you are

⚠️this (very) short story is told backwards, so from end to the start. i wrote it so you can read it normally and from the end. both ways will make sense, but the chronology in which it’s told will change.

wordcount - 581

T/W - Food (One mention)

A/N - two crazy discoveries led to this: new sana pics and melanie martinez’s unreleased song You Love I from which the concept is inspired. enjoy! or not bc i actually dont know if this is good its too late for me to worry about that🥰

Everything was better with her…

You’d ask yourself how you ended up here, but you knew the answer already.

You felt lost, overwhelmed as a pain you couldn’t seem to let go of persisted deep within your chest, looking around in search for a distraction.

How deluding…

The music was loud, but the tune was off. The lights were bright, but they lacked color. The people around you were happy, dancing and singing along to whatever song came out of those powerful speakers, but it wasn’t infectious.

Your eyes followed the spotlight as it highlighted the artist you hadn’t seen in months. All you could feel when you laid eyes on her was jealousy.

Something you loved and cherished, a place and a person, they’d been ripped away from you the moment you’d parted ways. Yet there she was, still enjoying it all as everyone’s focus and passionate admiration landed solely onto her for the next two minutes.

Minatozaki Sana.

You should have gone to a nightclub... It was the most popular, if not customary short-term remedy to a breakup. Why on Earth were you at a concert instead—her concert out of all?

Needless to say, your split was a fall from grace. Heartbreaking, as you’d expect from a relationship that lasted this long. You’d never broken up with anyone, but you’d seen it in the movies. You knew it would hurt no matter how long you’d seen it coming. You even bought the ice cream in advance, which you unsurprisingly downed in days while living in your memories.

Years. Months. Days. Hours. Every minute you spent together, you made sure to love each other, feeling your hearts swelling at every gesture. A kiss, a touch, or even a simple look was enough to send you to cloud nine. High enough to only see each other.

You’re not sure when everything and everyone else faded out, what mattered was her. You truly liked her. So did she. Perhaps from the moment you’d met. But it took a while to realise just how much you cared about the other.

A first date only came after her clumsy confession one drunken summer night on your balcony. You thought it had been a dream when you woke up the next day. It felt like it at least, when you laid eyes on her and saw her clinging to your shirt in her sleep. Even unconscious, she seemed to be aware of your presence. To want it.

Her conscience never let a second go by without a thought of you either. She made it her mission to satisfy this mindful desire of hers. Texting you at all hours, calling you just to hear the sound of your voice, asking if you could meet her in between two schedules like you would even think about saying no to her.

She was all you could think about. Her smile, her eyes, her laugh, down to her scent. It remained in a corner of your mind, recalling each of them in the late hours of the night as you struggled to fall asleep. The feeling was enchanting, to the point you wondered if she was real. If you’d really met her and she was not someone you’d made up in your dreams to make it all easier.

Life wasn’t that much of a party until you crossed paths with her. While she described her ‘before’ as chaotic, you liked to see yours as the opposite. Just plain boring.

Nothing seemed as colorful, vibrant, or lush without her.

Everything was better with her.

#twice x reader #sana x reader #sana imagines #twice imagines #twice sana #minatozaki sana