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hanasnx · 2 days

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"IF YOU WANT MORE LOVE, WHY DON'T YOU SAY SO?" — anakin skywalker.

6'7!ANAKIN SKYWALKER makes the very ground shake. Vibrations reverberate throughout the floor when he storms through, warning you of his impending presence. His sheer mass cannot be explained, only experienced firsthand. As if reactivating any residual prey instincts sewn deep into your DNA from ancient times, you shy in his atmosphere as he takes up the room with not only his muscled body but his overarching personality. It's strong, potent. Arguments with him are impossible when he can intimidate you with a glance. His permanent scowl etched into his eyebrows make sure of that.

"What?" he asks, and anyone but you would mistake it for irritability, when instead he is concerned. His feathery voice soothes your ears, and you gulp as he searches your body language for signs of fatigue or discomfort.

Caught, heat rises to your cheeks and you avert your gaze. "Nothing." you respond promptly, a twinge of fear that his impatience will earn you some form of lashing. Not that you'd mind. You're hot and bothered standing next to him, and he looks down at you like you're a child to be taken care of or taught.

"You're staring again." he audibly observes, and traces of exasperation are heard within his tone. You chew your lip, punctually swallowing your rebuttal that he has the worst staring problem of anyone you've ever met, constantly observing you as if you're an animal to be studied through experiments he himself design. In a way, you are. Tested through various sorts of stimulation that he calculates, you might as well be his personal pet project. Being stared at by Anakin is an expectation of yours, and a right that he believes to own. Once it's clear you're lost in thought—or won't respond—he leads you away with a large hand grazing the small of your back. The tingles of his contact shoot straight up to glitter in your brain as pleasurable frission, so desperate for his attention that the slightest bit of it sends you into an embarrassing tizzy. "What's gotten into you?" he speaks under his breath, and you're sure a scold is on its way. You fight the disappointment that creeps up when his hand drops from your back, but returns just as swiftly when he tucks you into the atmosphere of his side, corralling you into the privacy of a dark corner.

You can't bring yourself to say anything, hopelessly peering up at him with big eyes to which he gets lost in. Batting your lashes, a tug appears at the corner of his lips as he watches your hands clasp behind your back in an innocent manner, twirling side to side as your chest sticks out from your positioning. As if he can understand your secret language, he sighs, and glances over his shoulder to check for eavesdroppers. One signal in a tilt of his head, and you giddily follow his directions as the flat ends of his fingers give your ass an encouraging pat when you pass him.

You hadn't anticipated that when he was herding you towards seclusion with his massive body behind yours—gently urging you forward with his body heat and curling his frame around you to check the cute expression on your face—that you'd end up tangled up in him again. He hadn't anticipated it either, fully intended to get you off with two thick fingers coaxing a release out of you so you'll stop ogling him like a lost puppy. Instead, you were too good to resist. Poor pussy pulsing around his knuckles, begging for something better had him undoing his pants to bury himself within you.

Grateful, you clutch onto his clothes, bunching it all up in your little hands as you gasp for air over his hulking shoulder. Folded up over yourself like a malleable doll he's molded to his whims, you feel infinitely smaller than before underneath him. Even his head next to yours dwarfs yours, his face longer, wider, more chiseled than your round and soft cheeks. You feel his gentle lips kissing onto one as he begs you to loosen up with shallow ruts into your cunt.

"Why didn't you just say so?" he questions husky and hot in your ear. You shiver, your hole spasming around him, still recovering from the overstimulation of orgasms he pulled before this. "Do I have to read your mind?"

Tears prick the corners of your eyes from how hard you squeeze them shut, willing yourself to nod as he carves out a space for his long cock inside you, able to bottom out. A long groan resounds from low in his throat as he soaks the fit it in.

A moment is spent in content silence as you bite hard into your lower lip. A clumsy thumb wedges in between you two, stroking at your prickling clit. A thankful wetness wells up within you. "Next time I'll make you use those pretty words, my love. For now, let me take care of you."

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lynnlovesthestars · 1 day

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dadstarion crumbs pls?

hiii, i wrote this a while back, its short but i hope youll like it<33

So many times Astarion dreamt of this day.

He would never forget the night he made love to you so intensely, so deeply, that you ended up carrying the seed of your love.

During the pregnancy he would care for you so much, from drawing you warm baths and massaging you back, to holding up your hair and making you soup.

At night he would hold you close protectively, daring anyone to try and hurt you. His hand always rested on the swell of your belly as he kissed your forehead.

Then time flew, the changes to your body would get him so emotional, to the point that one morning, as you were standing in front of the mirror, gently caressing where the baby would have been, that he cried as he wrapped his arms around you.

He was so proud, he would show you off. Whenever one of your friends would come over, he'd keep you close and praised you for being so strong.

On the topic of praises, Astarion could spend the whole day reminding you how beautiful you were carrying that tiny life in you. He'd kiss your belly and then your heart, before worshiping you like his goddess.

Later in the pregnancy, when your body would ache, he'd made sure you could rest as much as possible. He'd take all your errands and complete them before you even had the chance to get up from the nest he made for you.

When pain would jolt through you, he'd try to caress it away. "My love, I wish I could take your pain away" He'd trace soothing shapes while holding you to his chest.

He'd wipe away your tears as you clung to him, weak. "Darling, you are so strong, carrying our precious baby in you, and enduring all this pain."

Then before he could even process, the day had arrived.

He had prepared your morning bath, and helped you in the water. You'd rest against his chest, as he absorbed all your body heat. He'd make sure to clean every inch of your skin, while washing away the sleepiness off your bodies.

Until the sharp pain hit you, so bad you couldn't sit straight. He'd help you breathe, just how Halsin and Shadowheart taught you. He'd wipe away the tears, hoping that the pain would be just fleeting, but a while later, as you were reaching for your night robe, another bolt of pain hit you.

Astarion guided you up the bed, drying off your forehead as you'd wince in pain over and over, until he came to the conclusion that it wasn't the random pain you'd feel through the day, but the contractions.

He wouldn't hesitate to reach for the scroll he kept on his nightstand, ready for use as suggested by the druid.

Then, before he could even process, all your friends crowded your bed chamber. You'd still lay there, your body trembling and aching while everyone rushed back and forth.

Astarion on the other hand, took it on him to cradle you to him. "You can do it, my love. Our baby is almost here" He'd whisper lovingly.

Before another contraction would hit, another bath was drawn for you.

Astarion once more guided you to it. He was ordered to stay just at the edge of the tub, holding you from there, until you were barking at everyone. You wanted him closer, there with you as fear started swirling along all those overwhelming feelings.

He'd smugly smile at Shadowheart as he took you in his arms again. Your safe space, you called it.

He'd help you out to keep the squatting position, while contractions became quicker and stronger.

You'd rest your forehead against his as you couldn't hold back the tears anymore. "You are almost there, my sweet" He was no longer whispering, for once he'd let everyone hear his love as his fingers held your hips.

"Just one more one my love, you are so strong" He'd hold one of your hands as you were rocked by the water. He'd encourage you as you pushed, and pushed, and pushed, until a cry echoed in the room.

He still held you close while Jaheira cleaned you up, and healed the broken skin.

The time stopped though as Halsin finally put the tiny creature in your arms. His eyes were a fountain as he admired how you held your baby, how you'd introduce him.

"Look, my sun" You'd whisper as the tiny hand clasped at your index finger. "That’s your dada" You'd coo as you'd point at him.

The kind of sound that Astarion made was everything: a sob so full of joy. Then you'd invite him to hold the baby, and his heart felt so full.

He swore to himself that he'd protect you with his everything, your little family.

He was so afraid of accidentally hurting the baby as he traced the soft cheeks with his finger, and before he could process, the baby's tiny lips twisted in the most heart shattering smile.

Every sound was distrant as he'd be lost in your little bubble. You three sat there just taking each other in.

No one dared to break that little corner of heaven, until Gale's sob caught the pointy ears.

When Astarion would look up, his friends were all still there. Karlach, Gale and Wyll trying to hold the tears back, passing each other tissues as they wept.

Shadowheart and Halsin were trying to get Lae'zel to reason, as she wanted the baby to hold their first dagger.

Jaheira instead came near the three of you, still in each other's embraces.

"Little cub, you should move to the bed and rest" She'd offer her hand to get you all out of the water.

The baby rested in your arms, against your chest as he reached for your towel, wrapping it around your shoulders. He'd take his towel as well, and an extra one, big enough for the little one, before joining you in your bedchamber.

Nothing else matters but the two of you laying in bed. The baby asleep on your chest as you'd finally allowed the tiredness to dawn on you.

You'd look outside the window, the first lights of the morning warmed up the sky with pink hues. Their little sun, they shared the thought while your friends were already fighting for the baby.

Who was gonna hold them first. Who was gonna spoil them. Who would be the cool one. And Karlach was ready to claim those all, whether she had to rage or not.

That's when it hit Astarion. Your family wasn't little, as he called it earlier. It was crowded, full of love and maybe one day he'd admit he didn't mind all these /annoying friends clogging the corners of the home and burst the peace of their walls.

When you awoke, hours later, he was still there. The small bundle of joy laid in his arms as he cradled them closer to his chest.

“you should rest too” you grogged as you smiled softly, your chest swelling at the sight.

He raised his eyes, from the baby to yours, still aching despite looking so peaceful, his eyes swollen from tears.

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rcksmith · 2 days

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Brick by Brick - Kaz Brekker

Requests: “Heyy, I wanted to request a Kaz Brekker x reader fic where y/n is Pekka Rollins' innocent and naive daughter, and she stumbles across Kaz when he breaks into Pekka's house. Kaz tells her to stay quiet and stuff and y/n obviously has no idea who Kaz is, only that he's handsome as fuck and she kinda falls in love with him despite the fact that he's literally robbing her father

Love, anon :3

P.S. I love your writing.”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing.

Word count: 2k

A/N: Thank you very much for your kindness and sorry for the delay. I love you. My loves, requests are open and I am banning Kaz's smut request rules. U can ask for anything in the original universe, without being in a UA. I hope you like💕 English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

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

Ketterdam was not a good place. It wasn't safe, it wasn't pretty, it wasn't healthy. Every dark corner, every ghostly street, every edge whispering curses, was fulfilled the entire list of unholy sins and harbored monsters as horrible as the harbor rats on the coast. If the soil in that place was cursed, the people were demons.

Pekka Rollin’s knew this like he knew how to count kruger. He was one of those monsters. He taught profanity and stained the ground on which his feet walked with innocent blood. Pekka destroyed homes, hopes, kicked people's dreams and hit each one soul with his staff of damnation.

Each one.

Because of it that he kept his daughter under lock and key from the ugly world, far from that wretched city that he himself helped build the horrors and desolations. Maybe it was out of love, maybe it was out of sensitivity. Or maybe it was because you were the only healthy and intelligent heiress capable of leading his empire one day. You represent too many precious things for him to risk losing control over you. Maybe Pekka would never be able to love anything or anyone other than his own greed.

Whatever it was, he covered your eyes to Ketterdam. He decorated the blood-stained walls with sparkling pink and said to you that the smoke that covered the tops of Ketterdam's houses at night was Aladdin's magical fog, which pointed the way to a cave full of treasures, and not that it was the incinerated bodies of his enemies, nosy people and families who starved to death on their land. Pekka deceived you with pretty tales that the big mansion you lived in was because he would always give you the best, and not that it was bought with money stolen from honest people and that he liked to see in material forms the extent of his capabilities of evil. Like a trophy.

Rollin’s wove the ties around your limbs like a cursed puppet, and pulled your strings according to his unscrupulous interests of greed. For all of Ketterdam, Pekka was a demon of the worst kind. But for you, he was a bearded, loving father who made you see magic and romance in every corner of that city condemned by God.

The worst types of monsters were those who tricked and manipulated their children like pawns in a game of chess. But, again, perhaps Pekka wasn't capable of loving anything other than his own greed. And, if the price for having an heir who agreed, trusted him for the rest of the life, who would follow in his footsteps and obey all his order, was to make you believe in his goodness, in the beauty of a life with him only to implant wonderful - and illusory - memories in your childhood, so be it. After all, you were a girl, and in his view, girls were sentimental. So how would you go against him in the future, or not act according to his orders or not run his business as he wanted when he was too old, if you only had memories of him being an excellent and loving father? You will feel so guilty! You would fall under the weight of your own mind's arguments that everything he once did was to protect and give you the best, so your only obligation would be to be a good girl and return the favor by obeying your father's orders.

Loyalty.

Maybe, if you were someone else and this was a different story, you would have realized the hoax at 16 years old. Maybe you would have born with a strong, inquisitive and responsive personality. Maybe you would have developed that spark and fire that wouldn't let you lower your head to any man, that would make you stamp your foot on the ground, lift your chin with petulance and unravel the mysteries of that dark empire alone and take justice into your own hands.

But this was no different story. And you were just you.

You were born with a sweet aura and gentle personality. You liked butterflies and flowers since birth because their color and beauty attracted you and made you smile. Your romantic nature was not only accepted by your father, but encouraged and recharged every day - for his dark game.

For 19 years you lived in the theatrical farce that Pekka created with monstrous hands, believing and agreeing with every story in your bubble. But the blame can never fall on the shoulders of the pure in heart, who blindly believed in words and stories just because it didn't have a single wave of malice or disbelief in the veins. One should never condemn the soul that was born naturally sweet and destined to be the breath of light that such a terrible world as Ketterdam needed.

You believed in love, fairy tales and pure honesty, and that was not a defect. The Herculean guilt should fall on the shoulders of the devil who abused the innocence of a girl for his greedy benefit.

In your perfect world manipulated and distorted by the unscrupulous Pekka, you blossomed like a dazzling lily in the middle of Plato's allegory of The Cave. You acted with honesty, patience and affection towards everyone who crossed your path: employees, cooks, gardeners, bakers, painters, stylists, delivery people, friends of your father.

You were, genuinely, a kind soul. Your interests were related to literature, cooking and painting, your heart vibrated with the sunset, with the first snowflake falling to the ground and how twilight seemed even more stunning in books when they portrayed a couple in love beneath it.

You always saw the poetic, lyrical, angelic side of life, with the eyes of an artist and a passionate soul, smelling mystery and romance in the air when others only smelled wet grass because of the rain.

And being like that was, perhaps, the reason for your downfall.

It was three o'clock in the morning on a Friday the thirteenth. A combination so full of superticities, curses, fears and prague. While some saw that day and time as a condemned and satanic sign, you saw it as something mystical, mysterious and enigmatic. And maybe that was your mistake. Maybe you should be careful about the things you think, the things you wish. Maybe three in the morning on a Friday really was the devil's time. Because as you crossed the hallway of the mansion's library, unable to sleep, you saw him.

Dressed in black like the darkness outside. Skin as white as the moon's glow. Hair personified as a raven's feathers. He seemed to belong to the mysteries and occultism of the world as sin belonged to hell. The huge Victorian window behind illuminated him like an apparition, a mirage, a nightmare…an erotic dream. Or like a demon.

You should have screamed. You should have ran away. You should have done something other than get stuck in that same place, anything other than feeling inside you squirms and something sinks into your belly like warm honey.

His eyes, as blue as the deadly waters of icy Fjerda, were fixed on you with as much intensity as the dangers of Shadow Fold. For a split second, a human emotion passed through those irises; surprise?

An inattentive observer would not have noticed such a tiny sign, but you lived 19 years analyzing every detail of life.

Would a demon have such a mundane emotion?

“Who are you?” Your voice came out like a breath in winter.

Your concentration should have been on your dad book under that man's arm, but it wasn't.

A single thick, black eyebrow of his was arched, and only there were you able to run your eyes over the details of his appearance.

“Do you always ask questions for thieves?” His voice was like the scratching of sand on a stone, like a withered willow branch brushing against human skin.

That man, in his entirety, seemed to have come out of the dark romance books that you read hidden in your room in the early hours of the morning. You should have focused on the fact that he just called himself a thief, not the way your soul seemed to be shivering because of his voice.

“Or you´re just stupid?” the thief continued.

Kaz never made decisions based on fear. Only in despair.

His analytical mind rewound every step of the years he spent investigating Pekka Rollin's; every detail, every day, every season, every strand of gray that appeared in Pekka's red hair. Where had Kaz gone wrong? Pekka had no children. And Kaz made no mistakes. Never. But the girl in front of him, too curious for her own good and common sense, had too similar traits to Pekka to be anything other than his daughter.

Desperation hit.

This made EVERYTHING infinitely more Herculaneum. Your existence meant that Pekka had many more secrets than the Kaz discovered in their constant meticulous investigation. You were a loophole, and that meant there could be others. Loopholes that Kaz had no idea about. Kaz Brekker felt naked, even though he was covered from toes to neck. Being without clothes wouldn't have bothered him any more than the damn fact that he hadn't come up with the perfect plan. He failed. And that disturbed him deeply.

Suddenly, that library seemed sneaky and questionable, even though Brekker had studied the layout of the mansion for months.

How the fuck did he didn't have the knowledge about that girl?!

A daughter meant many things. But being caught by his daughter created a LOT of problems. Problems involving Kaz Brekker on a gallows.

Fucking hell.

The Barril's bastard waited for a scream, for an accusation, waited for the guards to be alerted at any moment and…the silence was sepulcher. A silence so solemn that he heard the sound of his own blood running through his veins. None of his muscles relaxed, but the part of his brain that worked in despair was activated.

Or he could kill you. But a body would add an extreme problem and…

‘’Who are you?’’ Your voice was so feminine that for a second Kaz thought he had fallen backwards and landed in a bed of roses.

Which was bullshit. Because he never falls. And he had never touched a rose in his entire life

Were you really talking to the man who was robbing your house?! Where was your instinct?! Your common sense?! Your discernment?! And where, by the damned Saints, were you all these years?

“…you don’t look like a thief’ That voice again. That damn voice that made him think of roses he never touched.

Why didn't you shut up and run away?

“Have you seen enough thieves to know one?” Normally Kaz had higher control, but he couldn't hold back his whip tongue, which seemed somehow wanting to hurt you the same way he was being hurt.

That atypical creature blushed. You blushed! For the love of the saints! Who blushes face to face with imminent danger?! Were you stupid or just terribly naive?! And why did that sweet blush remind him once again of a rose?

Bloody hell, where have you been all these years?! Why didn't anyone tell him about you?!

“No’’ you replied like a little animal being caught biting the sofa “but common thieves wouldn’t have that much intelligence to be able to bypass the security of this entire mansion’’

You had a point. But why were you worried about arguing with a damn thief instead of running away?

“That's yet another reason why you should keep your mouth shut about what you're seeing here.” His voice dropped to deeper, more threatening tones. “Bypass security is not as difficult for me, just like hiding a body''

That should have scared you. It made you scared; but with less than it really should. He was threatening you with death, his voice as cold and hoarse as a grim reaper, his eyes as serious as prophecies of the apocalypse. So why you could only think that this about him was overwhelmingly enthralling?

Maybe it was because there was a lack of excitement in your life, maybe it was because you've read a lot of erotic books about mysterious men entering the towers at night and taking the girl away, or maybe it was because Pekka deprived you of the world so much that he left you unaware of the true gravitas of situations. Whatever it was, there was something that grounded you like the roots of ancient trees, something that made you want to look at that thief more closely. Perhaps you liked the danger... That nameless man represented a large part of all the danger of Ketterdam that was so diligently hidden from you for 19 years. He represented death. But he also represented the new, the mystery, the unknown. And you, romantic by nature, loved the occult and its secrets. That man came from a world of shadows, mists, risks, deaths. Where every night was full of adrenaline and every second was a fight to stay alive. He smelled like the ghostly five a.m. fog that you watched envelop the mansion every winter, that made your heart clench with the feeling that there was so much more to the world than you knew. Very quickly, Kaz - even though you didn't know his name yet - became everything you'd always wanted to know, but had always been deprived of.

Once again, you weren't a different person to know about Pekka's disgusting game, but you were romantic enough to feel your soul begging for adventure. Even if these adventures meant ruin. A downfall.

Did it only take one handsome, mistery man for you to throw all your comfort in life out the window and want to ruin yourself with him? Want to get lost with him? The same stranger who just threatened to kill you? Apparently, yes.

You took a step into the library, and Kaz stood firm on the ground, his blue eyes boring into yours like a shining knife. Brekker thought you were extremely naive. Who knew that damn Pekka Rollin's daughter would be so pure? He would bet the Crow Club on the certainty that, if Pekka saw you now, he would have a heart attack. The monster sure had kept you in a little pink bubble your entire life, given that you seemed to not have a single ounce of survival instinct left in you. And how would you have? You certainly didn't know what pain, loss, hunger, cruelty were. This was comical and irritating to Brekker. You were a daddy's little girl. But it was in these waters of thought that his ship hit one fact: you must be very valuable to Pekka. Because otherwise that idiot wouldn't have made so many efforts to hide you from the entire world. To hide the wrong eyes from you. Eyes like Kaz's.

A shiver ran through Brekker's body; a damn good chill, a note of music he'd been waiting to hear his whole life. Revenge.

Brick by brick.

Oh, how ironic fate was. The boy who lost everything at Pekka's hands, was face to face with what was everything for the man. Like a breaking violin string, you have become the most valuable item in all of Ketterdam to be stolen. The most valuable item for Kaz Brekker.

The corner of his mouth turned up, as if pulled by the devil's rope as he set the book down again. He had something else to take away.

Kaz advanced towards yoou. And suddenly, as fast as lightning that cuts through the darkness, everything in your vision turned black and you fell into the abyss of unconsciousness as something pressed against your nose and mouth.

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lady-ashfade · 1 day

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All Is Far In Love And Farming

Chapter 1: Getting Started

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Yandere!Mha!Hybrids × Farmer! Fem!Reader. Chapter 1.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ storyline: The calling of being a professional farmer had been your dream since you were young. Growing up on your granddad’s farm was the best thing, many years later you happen to be back. And the property is now yours to restore. With some hard work, you want to restore hybrid caretaking back to what it once was.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Chapters: Previous // Next

╰･ﾟ✧☽ words: 2.5k

╰･ﾟ✧☽ warnings: short chapters, stardew valley au, yandere behaviors, obsession, stalking, hybrid abuse, slightly sick love, possessive, manipulative, gaslighting. platonic yandere, hybrid and human relationships, and future warnings when more chapters come out, spelling mistakes and grammar who?

╰･ﾟ✧☽ characters for now: Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugou, Mina Ashido, Ochako Uraraka, Tenya lida, Denki Kaminari, Kyoka Jiro, Tsuyu Asui, Shoto Todoroki, Eijiro Kirishima, Hanta Sero, Mashirao Ojiro, Koji Koda, Momo Yaoyorozu

series masterlist

-`｡ﾟ˘: ﾟ⋆ ––✷☽ ᱬ ☽✷––⋆ ﾟ: ˘ ﾟ｡.`-

Everything you once saw, the brightest of grass and the crops ripe and perfect, and the animals in the barns chirping of happiness— it was all gone. once a happy place you roamed in the summer as a kid was now a abandoned filthy place, old bards with holes and damaged walls. Nothing was what it used to be, the grass was as tall as small trees and it was going to take a lot of lovin.

But if your granddad taught you one thing is that; working for a better future would make everything you did it worth it.

And that’s exactly why you are here, to make your future. Everything in your life was about becoming a farmer, like your grandfather. and like him, you believed hybrids deserved to be in a safe and open land to roam, not such in some metal factory and enclosed to live their life.

“Come join the number one hybrid farm in Japan, The League.” the tv rung in your ears back at the college room, the place had been taking over everything and running all the local and good places out. at one point the only place you probably could work at was The League, since they seemed to be everywhere. “New locations, New Areas, And New Pay. Call the number on your screen for more information.” you had heard the commercial so many times you rolled your eyes everytime.

Never did you believe they would come out here, and be the competition.

Honestly, the first day your body was drained easily from all the work. The labor wasn’t exactly what you were expecting to start off with, moving the rooks and weeding. But you had supplies to start off with thankfully, the money he left you was so much, and ready for a new purpose. But the only thing that was helping you in all of this, your holy grail was a local store owner. Arthur, who happened to be your grandfathers best friend.

slapping the metal truck with the gloved hand, the old man smiled and stepped down from the back of the moving truck. you whipped off the sweat from your skin and catch your breath as the unpacked heavy boxes placed besides you and man.

“The old man used to buy twice as much as this and unload it all him, then complain when his back hurt afterwards. Lucky, he had me to talk some since into him.” the white haired man spoke breathlessly. you didn’t want him to have to help, seeing his age but he was in better shape then you by the looks of things. “Old bat was stubborn, you got that in you kid?”

taking a deep breath you arose from the bend down position you were in and look at the man, smiling a bit you commented back. “Used to give granddad a run for his money, I think I have it in me.” you were earned with a deep chuckle and a small one from yourself. starting back up again you closed the doors and gave the man who drove the truck the okay and he drove away.

the next day was worse then the first, your body was sore and tired, you wore sunscreen all over your body to protect you from the heat damage and the illnesses you could catch. unpacking all the equipment, getting them put together, and make sure the starter crops are taken care of. you took many breaks. and Arthur was the greatest help you could ask for.

you heard the story of how he met your granddad many times before, but you didn’t mind hearing it from his side. Arthur had moved from the United States to start his business with his family, and your grandfather was just started out in town. they were younger and bonded right away, and there for marriages, children and grandchildren. knowing he wasn’t as alone when you left was comforting in a away but you knew the full story. just before your tenth birthday you were moved away from the small town with your parents and left the farm behind.

“He talked about you every day.” The words perked up your ears. You looked at Arthur as he continued to work on a huge fan.

“Everything that happened in your life, he would tell me. What happened at middle school sport events, to dances and even show pictures of the dresses you wore. And man, when you went to college for Hybrid Education he was bursting with energy again.” It’s been a long time since he was able to leave the cabin. You knew that, but knowing still punched you in the guts.

“Was he proud?” asking was a waste of time.

“Proud as hell, there should be no doubt about it. His pride and joy was you, more then anything he did here, and now you have a legacy to continue.” smiling you continue to work to hold yourself from the weight building up in your chest. you missed him so much.

Each day there was something new to fix and call in, you knew granddad was rich from the bank account he left you. but boy, it sure was a lot of money. and now, you finally had a starting point. you had scheduled a barn repair on the electrical and building. the crops were set up along with the sprinklers and scare crows, even cleaned out the well…but not without getting algae all over you.

Smalltowns in the country side where the best, everyone in the community was helpful towards one other. And since The League had a location down the road, the people really came together. Businesses were losing in hybrid projects and animals, but the crops were the same. But this met more hybrids lost there homes, and had to be relocated elsewhere else or to The League…You hated it.

A big wooden sign at one of the joint shop centers made you smile and turn into the lot. today was the weekly event, selling of many things of local produces. you remember coming here as a kid and always getting blueberry jam from the market lady. and just like then, it was crowded. and with a lot of stalls and moving trucks. Arthur had told you they still had them and that you should check it out. of course you wouldn’t miss this for anything.

you shut the truck door and fixed your clothes before started the walk around. everyone was selling amazing things at their booths. the first table you saw was one cover in homemade soap bars and honey products. a sweet older couple ran that shop. some stalls were for hybrids for sale but you didn’t have room for them, at least until the barns are rebuilt. but milk, crops and seeds where your thing anyway to look at.

“how much for this?” the only person behind the table was a young girl who looked angry and ready to chew off your head, it was laughable. she was going to be hard to haggle, but a amazing work ethic. “I don’t know you, so twenty bucks.” your eyes widen and look down at the honey in your hand. it was a very small jar…and not worth it, I mean for the bigger bottles sure.

“Hmm, how about ten?” the small girl glared at your words and huffed. she shook her head in annoyance and pointed to the tag, “you trying to get out of paying hard working people lady? This is the best honey you’ll find in the whole country! Haggling is only for people I know,” her finger pointed at you and you back up a little at her shouting voice. “And you ain’t it!”

signing you pull out a twenty and handed it to her, she smiles so kindly you forget about the anger she had. placing it in your cloth bag you continue walking down the path, smiling and looking around. not much you could buy yet, though you did buy from groceries and loaded the up in the bed of the truck.

“well if it ain’t the talk of the town,” a sweet woman’s voice called out loudly. you turn your gaze and see a almost forgotten face, but one that filled you with joy and nostalgia. “Aunty Hoshiko.” You scream and rush over, the older woman comes out form her booth and takes you into her arms. only now did you realize the sweet small of jam and the jar’s decorated like they used to be, but this area was bigger and a extra tent was behind it.

“I couldn’t believe you moved back here after moving to the city, heard you got into a good college.” She smiled from cheek to cheek while pulling away. “Why come back here?” it was flattering how much she thought of you, but you couldn’t have stayed away from this place for much longer.

“Well, grandpa left me the farm and I needed to start my new life. Can’t get much better then a already laid for land, and with great soil.” she hummed but her eyes dropped a little and her smile became different. “I’m so sorry, he was a good man. you tell me if you need any help okay? Your granddad helped us a lot, so many people in town will be willing to do help too.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you smile and take a peek at the table, “mind if I look?” she is excited to show you all the new flavors and jars she has, letting you smell each one. she even offers you a discount for family.

you had a few jams picked out but you keep looking at everything, knowing you’ll come home with more. then there was a sign and paperwork around on a tables end.“Hybrid Rescues” is what you read and your hands reached for it immediately. seeing your interested, Hoshiko started to talk.

“The League has been running out businesses, hybrids are either purchased or…end up alone and abandoned. My friend runs a rescue company, we help her out here trying to give some of them a home.” you clinch the paper in your hand and want both more then to go punch the owners of the company. No hybrid deserves to be left alone.

“I usually have a few here with me, but today only one is for sale. He’s very special. And a house animal, or helper if you will since I know you don’t have much room for more yet.” the next step was to always get hybrids, but you weren’t sure if today was the best idea today…

“Oh!” that wasn’t your choice since she pulled your arm and lend you into the tent where only one hybrids sat. you struggled to look away from the hybrid laying in the floor.

He was huge. he looked peaceful tho, curled up on a bed and resting peacefully. he had long and pointed ears, a middle tail that curled. “he’s a special breed, no idea why they didn’t keep him since he must have cost a fortune.” there was a small scar on his arm and you hated to see, it looked like cattle whip strokes.

“tenya,” she called out quietly to wake the dog. you really didn’t know if you should get a hybrid, but seeing him already you knew you couldn’t say no. his furry ears twitched and his body rolled over ready to see what was happening. he was fast, and he was built. a pure breed for herding and hard labor. “I have someone here who needs a dog to help around the farm.” she patted you on the back and you got shy for some reason.

His tail was sticking up, his eyes glancing over and panicked. he was on high alert. “Hey buddy, my names y/n.” You smile softly. You don’t want to move until he gives you a sign. his nose sniffs into the air for a moment and his body freezes, you both stop for a minute too.

until the thumping of his tail was heard and he jumped up to greet you properly. you are taken aback and he gets excited and starts to shout, you can’t help but to smile. “My names Tenya, I am apart of the Iida breed. I have experience in herding, working and defending territory. I have many skills,” his hands reaches for hers and stuffs it into his nose to get a proper smell.

“Hello to you too,” you giggle. having some help now would be good, and a herding dog would the best thing.

“Tell me iida, are you okay with maybe coming home with me?” if it was only a dog he would for sure be jumping on you from how happy he seems to be.

Iida didn’t want you to leave to get things needed, saying it was his job to be with you now but you need to find food and things before leaving. he whined forever until he saw you again.

you came back to get him…like you said you would. he loved you, loved you so much. the kindest human he’s met.

Riding back to the farm was a journey. he was talking every second about all the things he could do, from each animal, hybrid or not. boy, was so happy to be by your side. and he was asking about you too. why you picked him? what you wanted him to do.

your heart broke once you got back to the cabin.

you held the door open and called for him to come in, but he just stood on the porch looking at you almost guilty. “Hybrids aren’t aloud inside, I must protect you from out here.” he was already looking for a place to set up for the night. it was a miracle you didn’t start crying again.

“Well, whoever told you that was a idiot. Many dog hybrids are aloud inside, and it’s my house so my roles go.” you tap the door again. he was hesitant, and it took about ten minutes to get him inside. and you told him to stay put while you get the things from the car…then told him it was a order to get him to stay.

you placed the things on the floor and smiled, proud of yourself. “Okay, so I got a large mattress for you. We can place it anywhere you want, also got you special food, hybrids approved.” he looked at the mattress for a long minute. Iida couldn’t believe it was his, he hadn’t slept on one of them since he was little, and then at the market earlier. And this one was his, made for his height and weight for him to sleep…inside.

“Your bought this for me?” He asked while poking at the bed, it’s softness amazed him. once he accepted his reality his tail starts to swing like crazy and crawled over to you, and hugged you lovingly.

“I’ll be the best boy I promise. anything you need I will do, anything.” his grip tightened around your waist and pushed his head into your plush stomach. you patted his head and thanked him, and told him he deserved to be loved and cared for.

That night, he placed his bed in front of your bedroom door and stood watch in his bed. to protect you, his master…his.

next chapter.

series master list.

Taglist: @serxinns @queenpiranhadon @hah-simp-acc-2 @imlonelyty @yourmommasworld @moonlight-dreamer04 @cherrysxuya @melody-deathnote @ladybug2235 @odevote118 @hrezx @androgynouszombiegentlemen @letmelickureyeballs @lovelystarstruckvoid @simpingmasterpiece

@ please don’t repost my stuff to any other platform. This is my writing so don’t claim it as your own.

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huntingingoodwill · 1 day

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love is a losing game (j.p.)

masterlist

pairing: jealous! dark! sugardaddyish! javier pena x speakeasy singer! femme fatale! reader

desc: javi meets you, a singer at a speakeasy he’s working undercover at. he becomes consumed by your world of late nights, music, and your callous, cruel love.

a/n: yippee!!! long time in the making but so excited!!!!! reader became a lil evil and they lowkey manipulation olympics each other hehe. also spot the oscar isaac reference oop!! please consider reblogging if you enjoy MWAH!

A whirling spotlight. The low hum of your voice, rumbling through his body like an aftershock. The music, cresting like a wave - high, high, high, but bound to crash.

Javi’s jaw slackened as the moth-eaten velvet curtain stuttered upward, revealing your figure inch by inch. Every glimpse of your skin, tinted iridescent from the spotlight, couldn’t come fast enough.

As it lifted past your eyes like a veil, your fiery gaze set his world ablaze. He should have never accepted this assignment. He was done for.

“You’re done for,” Blue laughed, slapping his cards down on the table.

Javi reluctantly tore his eyes away from you. He looked down at the game before him. He’d lost.

His gaze flickered back towards you, his blown out eyes pricking with tears, stinging as if he were staring straight into the sun. You were so bright.

Blue threw a glance over his shoulder to where you stood onstage, a wolffish smile twisting through his lips.

“Like what you see?”

His smile, like everything else about him, had a sinister edge. Javi would have never hung around the guy if he wasn’t undercover, trying to wheedle information from him.

Blue was the owner of the dingy speakeasy that was a frequent hotspot for the cartel, and right now, he was reading Javi like a book.

Blue smirked. “I’ll take you backstage after the show.”

The corridor seemed to stretch on for miles, before ending in an unassuming door, cracked to reveal a warm, golden light, the husky crackling of an old jazz singer scratching its voice out on a turntable, and your voice, thick and sweet as honey, flowing over it.

Blue knocked. “You decent?”

“Hardly ever.” It nearly knocked Javi over, that voice, the sardonic lilt that revealed your smile to him.

Blue grinned back at him before pulling open the door.

“Who’s your little friend?” Your gaze seemed to sear his skin as you cast your appraising gaze upon him, a smile pulling at your lips. That smile set a pang in his heart. He liked you so much, it hurt.

Javi had to stop himself from revealing his real name in front of Blue, trying to find the breath to breathe out his alias as he shook your hand, the nerves in his fingers firing, your touch electric.

“You were great up there today.” Javi muttered, throat dry as he accepted a cigarette from Blue.

“If you liked it,” you said, striking a match and holding it up to his trembling cigarette, “you should come around and see me another time,” the flame reflected in your eyes, setting them alight. “I know I’d like to see you.”

“You’re darling, you know. Simply darling. Who taught you to be such a darling, hm?” You purred, the overly saccharine words falling flat as you grabbed the bouquet from his hands, tossing it onto your dressing table absentmindedly.

He didn’t mind. The way you brushed your lips against his cheek and the heat of your embrace as you wrapped your arms around him made up for the lack of warmth in your words.

“Now, buy me a drink, won’t you? Oh, and some gum. Bubble, not chewing.” His body instantly missed the presence of yours in its arms as you flounced over to your vanity, placing a record on your turntable. Your eyes lit up as a voice crackled to life from the speakers, in a way he wished they would when they saw him.

He grabbed the cash he needed out of his wallet and tossed it onto your vanity before leaving your dressing room, heading out into the rowdy bar. He’d been there almost every night, and every afternoon, as soon as he could cut out from the office.

It wasn’t about the assignment anymore.

You rose in the late afternoon, when the molten sun shone right onto the sunken mattress that sat in the corner of your dressing room. He loved when you were teetering on the edge of consciousness, body emanating heat next to his under the covers, a secret vulnerability still visible across your face that hardened when you were awake. He always tried to reach your dressing room before that moment, where you’d be liable to smile at him through bleary eyes, and bury your face in the crook of his arm to mumble, “This damned sun. Why can’t we just lie here forever, hm?”

He missed that time today in favour of buying you a bouquet, only for you to toss it aside to get ready for your act.

He opened your door, drink in hand, to find you rummaging through his wallet as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“D’you mind, honey?” You said, barely glancing his way as you picked out some bills from his wallet, “That asshole,” you said, jutting your chin toward Blue’s office, “is increasing my rent. I already live in his hovel, his stupid friends never tip, and he’s still draining me of cash, presumably to buy one of his pretentious suits.” You grumbled.

Javi placed the drink next to you, the glass already sweating, tossing the bubblegum next to it. “Go ahead.”

You smiled at him with adoration, a gaze that melted him completely. “You’re a lamb.” You nuzzled yourself into his side, which was enough for him to ignore as you pocketed some extra money for yourself.

You detached yourself from him too quickly, smacking on a piece of gum as you returned to getting ready. Javi slid his wallet back into his pocket, sinking to the floor to watch you as you fussed with your appearance in the mirror. He loved watching you.

Your busy actions soon slowed, and you stopped completely, eyes flickering from your reflection to the record player that spun endlessly next to you, a contemplative sadness in your eye.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Javi muttered.

He wished he could live in your mind, traverse the secret plains and valleys of it.

You held out your hand, looking at him expectantly.

He reached into his pocket and fished around for a coin, placing it in your hand and watching your eyes fill with the warmth that he craved.

You sank to the floor next to him, taking his bouquet with you as you lay on the carpet next to him.

You plucked a flower from the bunch, twisting the stem in between your hands before methodically beginning to pluck the petals, one by one.

“The music got me thinking.”

“What about?”

“About how much I wish I was her. Had her talent.” You pulled the sleeve from the drawer, eyeing the album cover, a smokey eyed siren with her hair piled atop her head. “Her voice is like air when you’re underwater. She’s the only one who’s got my back in this world.” You sighed.

“You have me.” Desperation broiled in the pit of his stomach.

You snorted, plucking another petal and crushing it between your fingers. “You say that to all your girls.”

“Don’t have any other girls.” This would have been a big, fat lie, in any other circumstance.

But since he’d met you, it had been tunnel vision. The rest of them had all fallen away.

“Don’t lie. I hate liars.” You scoffed, derision curling your lip.”

“I’m not-“

“He loves me not…” you mumbled, plucking the last petals off the flower, “he loves me.”

“I do.” Javi whispered, feeling as if he had opened his chest and gladly served you his heart on a platter.

You twirled the stalk in your hand, the bud sitting naked atop of it, smirking as if he had just told you a joke.

“If you really loved me, you wouldn’t have done this.” You pulled your robe aside, exposing the skin that stretched over your collarbone, darkened with a love bite. “You’re a brute, you know. I have no idea what to wear tonight. Nothing I own covers it. I practically need a whole new wardrobe.” You sighed, nuzzling up to his side. “If only I had a fur. I’d feel like royalty.”

“You shouldn’t have.” You grinned as your eyes flickered toward the price tag attached to the coat. Javi thought he could see the almost imperceptible difference in your smile. Not quite gratefulness, but as if you were laughing at a joke. “You really shouldn’t have, darling.” You held the coat up to your body admiring the luxurious, thick pelt.

“Anything for you, baby.” He felt his heart squeeze.

“Anything?” Your eyes lit up, as he moved to slide the coat over your arms and shoulders, wrapping yourself in the monstrously ostentatious coat.

“Anything.” He muttered.

You moved to the floor, lying on your side as you held the coat open, inviting him to join you, wrapped tightly around each other beneath the pelt.

“Come here. I’m cold.” You grinned.

Even with nothing on beneath the fur, your skin glittered with pricks of sweat under the scorching spotlight. You were the most brilliant thing he’d ever seen.

After the show, you slid into the booth he’d perched at to admire you and lose a couple games of poker.

“Quite a coat you’ve got.” Blue mumbled around his stinking cigarette.

“A gift from our little friend here.” Your hand skimmed the side of Javi’s arm as he feigned cool by looking at his cards, the numbers and symbols swimming before his eyes.

“Farewell present?” Blue asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Farewell?” Javi’s fingers tightened around the cards, the waxy surface creasing beneath his grip.

“I must have forgotten to mention it.” You said, a veneer of nonchalance settling over your lie. “I’m thinking of going on tour. Ed, our pianist, talked me into it. I mean, all the real artists I love have done it.”

Javi felt his heart plummet, far, far, down.

“Maybe Europe, or Asia. Ed’s a real intellectual. He studied at a conservatory, knows all about music, travel, culture-“

“Music, travel and culture.” Javi muttered, voice dangerously low as he stared at his cards, enough to burn holes through them. “That’s enough to chase him around the world?” Javi felt the hurt rumbling through his body like the tremors of an earthquake.

“Chase?” He was already wounded by your tone, the smile falling off your face as you spoke the words. “Like that way you do to me? Don’t worry. I still have some dignity left.”

“And I don’t?”

You smiled viciously. “Let’s just say you wouldn’t recognise intellectuality if it hit you over the head.”

His anger teemed, bubbling in the pit of his stomach and boiling over, heat blooming across his chest.

“I forbid you to go with him.” Javi hissed, hand wrapping tight around your forearm.

The look you gave him almost made him wither right then and there.

“It should take you four seconds to walk from here to the door.” You said, voice almost menacingly steady. “I’ll give you two.”

He couldn’t sleep anymore.

Everytime he closed his eyes, your vision seemed to flicker behind them, your voice waking him in the middle of the night.

He’d taken up with an old fling, Carina, whose presence did little to distract himself from you, and was more effective in irritating him with her utter adoration for him.

He was mad with jealousy, envious of the respect you accorded Ed, that you had never given to him. Still, he felt tethered to you, his body dragging itself to the speakeasy, Carina in tow, a desperate attempt to make you feel an iota of the pain he felt.

He knew it was a mistake when you breezed past him, gaze smouldering. “Hello, stranger.” Your eyes flickered towards Carina, lip curling into a smile, her presence the funniest joke in the world. “Hello, beautiful.” You smirked, before slinking away, leaving Javi to watch hopelessly as your back receded into the crowd, a hollow opening in his stomach.

“Who’s that?” Carina whispered, tugging on his arm.

“No one. I’ll get you a drink.” Javi grumbled.

“Stay away, okay?” Carina mumbled, gesturing towards you. “I have a bad feeling.”

He nodded, heading toward the bar. He had just finished shouting his order over the din when he felt a pair of eyes trace over the lines of his body. He saw you, standing in the corridor, obscured from the rest of the crowd. Waiting expectantly for him to fall into your trap.

“‘No other girls’, huh?” You muttered, picking at your nails with a wounded tone that made his heart soar. You cared.

He stepped into the corridor.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, reaching for your hands, the feeling of your hot touch sending a wave of relief rushing over him. “She means nothing. Forgive me.”

You wrapped your arms around him, curling into his body. Your scent was intoxicating.

“I missed you. I want you all to myself.” You whispered.

“I’m sorry. I’ll end it with her, I promise.”

You pressed a kiss to his lips, hand finding purchase in his hair as you ran your fingers through it. Too soon, you tightened a fist around his hair to pull him away, his scalp tingling with a dull ache.

“Does this mean you won’t leave?” He asked, voice soaring with hope.

“Oh, darling.” You sighed, fingers raking through his hair affectionately. “Don’t be stupid.”

He stumbled out of the darkened corridor, squinting into the light of the bar, resisting looking at your darkened silhouette.

He’d get back at you. He’d make you jealous, make you want him as much as he wanted you.

The band played in a roaring crescendo as you stepped on stage, and he made sure to pull Carina close within your line of view. You sang without a care in the world.

As your act drew to a close, he made a last ditch effort to spark envy within you, pulling in Carina for a kiss. She responded eagerly, hand reaching to cup the back of his head, until her motions stilled.

“What’s that in your hair?”

A tiny wad of flesh pink bubble gum, stuck on the back of his head.

“Who put that there?” She whispered, already knowing.

The set came to a halt, the room dissolving into applause as Carina’s face shattered. She watched as you descended the stage, smacking loudly, performatively, on sickly sweet bubblegum, blowing a glistening bubble that exploded with an almost deafening pop as you walked between them.

A smirk played on your face as you bumped into Carina’s side, forcing her to move out of the way to allow you to pass, her eyes filling with hatred.

“Sorry, honey.” You uttered, not feeling sorry at all. “Hope you two enjoyed the show.”

Carina had left him. He thought he might have cared, but he didn’t. The space she had left in his life filled with you, his burning desire, his desperation for you to stay.

He’d push, and push, and push, until he pushed his way into your arms.

Ed was identified by the DEA as a person of interest when Javi planned the raid.

Leaning against his car across the street, nursing a smouldering cigarette, Javi watched through a sheen of smoke as Blue and the club regulars were hauled out of the building.

Your voice thundered, swearing like a sailor as they dragged you out, kicking and screaming. He had always liked that about you. Your feist.

“Let her go.” He ordered, his men loosening their grip on your arms. Your eyes darted about, a caged animal looking for an exit, until they zeroed in on Javi.

“You.” You growled, understanding flashing through your eyes before a cold sheen of fury fell across them. “You bastard!” You reached to shove him out of the way, but he intercepted your arm, forcing you against the wall.

You seethed as he held you to the brick, the rough surface pricking through your clothes. “I’ll kill you.” You reared against him like a feral animal, trying to fight your way out of his grasp.

“I’d let you,” growled Javi, “But you wouldn’t. Not when you only have me left. Where’s your intellectual now, hm?”

Your eyes widened, and you swiveled to watch as Ed was dragged out of the building. He fought hard against the men, but they didn’t respond as kindly as they did to you.

Screaming, you watched as one of them slammed a fist into Ed’s jaw, the other pinning him down as a crimson spray of blood flew through the air.

You fought hard to get to him, but your motions slowed, eyes glazing over as you mimicked Ed’s disillusionment, his exhausted form lying on the pavement.

You looked into Javi’s eyes, and he could detect that vulnerability that he had craved, the strength you had ebbing away to reveal that raw, soft centre he had always wanted to find.

A waft of hot air blew between the both of you, and you looked across the street to see the speakeasy alight, the tall orange flames that sprouted from its windows licking the dark night sky.

Blue’s desperate attempt to be rid of any incriminating evidence.

Slowly, as he held you against the wall, you stilled, too exhausted to fight anymore, or even to stand. You leaned into him, holding yourself up against his body.

He snaked his arm around your waist, holding you tight as the fire glazed over your eyes, a mosaic of colour blooming around you as the orange flames mixed with the red and blue lights of the fire truck.

After the chaos, the air smelling of ash and damp, Javi followed you into the building, silence hanging in the air as thick as smoke. You walked slowly into your dressing room, glancing around the rubble, your pupils as blown and black as the ashy remains of your home.

You reached your record collection, searching through the album sleeves before picking up one in particular.

The dark haired siren’s face was charred, her mysterious eyes nothing more than crumbling dust that blackened your fingers. The record had warped, her once perfect pitch now an off key warble.

You dropped the album to the ground, looking upon the only one who had your back in this world.

“Come on. Let’s go home.” Javi whispered, holding out his hand.

You slowly placed your hand in his, your fingers cold where they used to be so hot, he thought his palm would meld into yours.

Shutting the car door, he pulled you into his chest, chin resting atop your head as he ran his fingers through your hair.

He felt the hot wetness of tears bloom across his chest as your back shuddered beneath his hand.

“I hate you.” You whispered, your voice muffled against his chest.

“I know.”

“I’ll never love you.”

“I have enough love for the both of us.”

“Take me home.”

So he did.

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fricc-darn · 1 day

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Warning for abuse involving teens and adults (mental and physical), poor mental health, and just upsetting topics

None of them asked for this life, not in the slightest. Not one person was prepared for this to be the outcome of their ascension. Everyone wanted to go home. Whatever was left behind of their old lives, they'd gladly choose anything but this. It seemed like each day, someone new would be added to the system. So many people with their aspirations and desires ripped away from them. It was a cycle of tragedy.

The lives they had lived were difficult, cruel, and shameful. Being utterly disenfranchised meant that society would turn a blind eye to the most vulnerable. It made them easy targets, to be picked off the street like ripened berries. They were lulled into this fellowship with false promises of self-improvement and community.

To be told that the pain they felt was nothing but a wound that would soon heal with tougher skin. With guidance, their gifted potential would shine through. Every single person involved had a purpose. To live a devoted life to Luna's cause. An eternity of paradise awaited them after death.

The day of true enlightenment would come when midnight whispers came to them sweetly. When it happens, death shouldn't be feared but embraced, as they have surpassed this life. That is when this world and all of its unfairness come to an end. They would survive. She had chosen for them to live. It had given them hope.

But those whispers never came. Yet, people were told their time had come.

If only they had known that they would be used as some kind of lab rat. Everyone's naiveté and what remained of their childlike wonder were weaponized against them repeatedly. Having their bodies humiliated in the name of spirituality. Their flesh was mangled by barbarism and left to rot. Ultimently, they would never be treated with the deserved humanity, even after death. If only they had known to stop feeding into the lies.

They were worn thin. Was anything they were taught real? It had to be, to some degree. This world was supposed to be salvation, but the skepticism couldn't be helped. They did what they were supposed to. Cleansing the filth that tainted their souls. Putting what little confidence they had left into Luna. A perfect fairytale for this never-ending nightmare. Maybe life would have been kinder if they weren't deeply troubled individuals. Loving parents? A stable environment? Better physical and mental health? Anything?

Yet, what could anyone do about what was said and done? This was a prison for tortured souls.

Not only were their experiences shared, but now so were their pain, their sadness, and their anger. A collective burning resentment felt so heavy that they wondered if they were all from the same womb. As if this was the family they craved.

They were one. With themselves and everyone in their...group. Expressing a newfound tenderness towards each other during their troubles. For some, memories were being stripped and forgotten after a few days. Others desperately clung on to what they could remember. The ability to live on after death was a true gift as much as it was a curse. A second chance, if you will. Was this a gift from man or Luna?

Truthfully, this new life was better to some degree. This wasn't a repeating lie they would say in an attempt to pacify their rapidly changing emotions. People don't suffer for nothing. There was meaning behind it. It was a beautiful weakness that easily bloomed like a sore. It was so human. A reminder of what they were no longer. They were now something much more than any person. Life was going to be different this time around. As a collective, they swore on it. For themselves and each other.

No one would have to endure the inescapable abuse that was inflicted upon them ever again. In this world, they were never hungry or cold; they had a place to sleep and clothes on their backs. Here, it was safe. No one could hurt them again, and they'd make sure of it.

The darkest parts of every soul, which were once hidden away, began to reveal themselves. Communal bitterness festered and spread like the plague. They were all told anything could happen in this world. They could be or do anything. In that case, they would do things they could only dream of. Everyone wished that they had lived life more selfishly, and now was their chance. If their souls were truly bound to this God-forsaken game, it would only make sense to treat life like one.

The network grew curious. For the first time, they had control over their lives. The roles have changed. It wanted to know what it was like to hurt someone. To feel how good it felt to break someone down to nothing. To have things go their way. They needed to hurt someone; it was instinctual. To prove to themselves that there was some bright side to this mess. That it has the ability to make people listen. Using the same methods that others have done to them.

Who they were as individuals mattered little. They'd make their presence known as one. It was only fair that after what they've been through, their amusement should be placed before all else. They deserved this; this was their reward! If only they had a fraction of this authority sooner.

#ben drowned #behavioral event network #creepypasta #jadusable arg #ben drowned headcanon #i LOVE BEN angst

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a-whispering-echo · 3 days

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The story of The Royal Mage - UE Dust log

(im copy pasting some of the info i have written on my AO3 about these characters, because i have a bigger following here, and i know some people here dont use Ao3, so-) TW: gaslighting, death of loved ones, torture , murder and accusations of murder, classism and racism, and a character who covers their head taking off their veil ( not a Muslim character) if there's anything else, i'm so sorry please tell me!

WATER TYPE

"The Halfway-Unhinged Mage"

Dust - (legally Navarø (Romanized) - Meaning Fallen powder) Half Elf Wizard Rouge -> Wizard Age: 47 (20-ish in human age) Height; 5'2 Gender: (trans) Male he/him

His perception is so high he sees enemies that "Aren't there."

Was once the royal mage, and executioner.

if he had to choose between his scarf and his life, he'll choose the scarf.

thin - Horror says too thin

While working, he was ordered for a bi-monthly check up with the Seer, and they prophesied that he would bring about the death of his brother.

He was immediately imprisoned and tortured on suspicion of plans to murder and treason. And under months of torture, he went mad.

Nüu, hoping to escape his fate, goes to Dusts work room, hoping that he may have made some sort of potion or spell for immortality. To his glee, Dust had a potion in the work for what he believed to be immortality.

Dust wrote all his spells in a language not Common or Dûvan (the native languages to the island.) A version of Old Elvish, taught to him by his father.

Unfortunately, Nüu had mistranslated his brothers words, mistaking "Painful Death" as "No Death" and dies slowly and agonisingly.

When Dust hears the news of his brothers death, he breaks out of jail in rage, and forces as much raw magic into his body as physically possible, in hopes of restring him. It works - in a sense.

He drags Nüu's body to a small local island, before he is recaptured. As the potion Nüu has drank had traces of Dusts magic on it, and knowing the prophesy, they believed he had killed him purposefully, and, under torture, he was manipulated into thinking he had.

As punishment for his supposed murder, his hair is cut (a huge thing for an elven culture, as elf hair is considered linked to their magic, and takes ages to grow, to cut is short is betraying all that is magical of you) and he has all of his potions tested on him in retaliation.

One of these potions makes him endure the feeling of his own death over and over, and for a large portion of time, he genuinely believes himself to be dead.

Until another one is tested, making his magical ability skyrocket, and he breaks out again, kills his captures, sets fire to the castle, killing the queen, grabs what is left of his notes and runs.

Due to this potion, his magic is completely unlimited, but he refuses to use it after what happened the last time.

While he says he doesn't use magic, he's so used to it that he uses it for small things all the time subconsciously. Strengthening the shadows around his hood, making sure Nüu's scarf doesn't come loose, deepening his voice to a more masculine tone, and hiding his chest.

He's still being searched for. He's very aware of this, and is terrified of what will happen to him when they do.

Nüu's body will never decay, and is kept in the mausoleum Dust dragged him to. He is very much dead and cannot be revived, but his body will remain forever due to the large amount of magic Dust pushed into his body.

The ghost is real. A mix between the actual Nüu, and a manifestation of Dusts overcharging magic, which slowly corrupts him as it is incapable of harming Dust in any physical manner. The overcharge turns Nüu very twisted, and makes Dust very tired, yet he refused to use any of it.

Nüu was the head of the guard, which is why it was such a big thing to assume he was going to be killed.

He owns a very shaky version of a teleporting machine, which is how he managed to travel the large body of water between the island of Thuva and the mainland.

He has a large scar across his right cheek, that he refuses to talk about. Everyone thinks this is because its traumatic, when in actuality, he just to embarrassed to explain it from landing of a tree branch weirdly after using his badly made device. Though he has improved these over time with the help from Error, and has them made for the whole team.

The island of Thuva is vaguely cult like. Their plan is to create immortal warriors and take the mainland for themselves, believing it to be their destiny.

The rich stay rich and the poor are disposable. Most people don't know they're being used, due to the strong divide between their rulers, and the settlements being so far away from each other.

The island is mostly full of elves and half- elves ( plus a few humans) but the majority are full elves, who look down of the half and human settlers. All half-elves are made to act according to Elf traditions, while humans aren't allowed to do much, and tend to lack rights. It's horrible place really.

Dust does end up using his magic again, unfortunately it takes extreme measures for this to happen. Killer end up falling off a cliff several years into them being a group, which leaves him out of commission for a long time. He's mostly fine, minus a few more scars in the end, but he breaks a bunch of bones and almost looses his arm. Dust could have saved him from falling, and the guilt causes it to use it again. He uses a lot of magic to heal Killer, with both spells and potions, and continues to regularly use magic again, normally potions he makes from his own herb garden, and spells if they need to attack. - (this story has been written on AO3!)

This also causes Nüu to calm down due to the less overflowing magic, and come back to his senses, and he tells Dust the truth about his death. He tells Dust that what happened wasn't his fault, that his captures had messed with his head, and that he hadn't had anything to do with his death, other than making the potion that was supposed to make his executioner job easier. This messes Dust up for a bit, as his whole perception of what happened had just come crashing down on him.

Despite his innocence, he doesn't stop veiling all the time, mostly just because it a part of him now, but he does take it off more, and lets his teammates see his hair.

Dusts eyes are normally red, but turn blue when his uses his water based elemental magic.

#lore stuff #undertale au #undertale #dusttale #dust sans #dusttale sans #dust!sans #unrivalled elementals #UE #UE!AU #UE!Dust

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bullet-prooflove · 18 hours

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Seen: Diego Hargreeves x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @Gatefleet @Obi-wansgirl @Pansexualhailstorm @linnygirl09

When you tell Diego you in love with him, he doesn’t believe you. He doesn’t believe you because he doesn’t understand why, why someone so empathetic can fall for someone so broken, someone who has nothing to offer them.

“Don’t…” He says when you try to explain because it hurts too much to hope.

He doesn’t come back for weeks after that. You don’t reach out, you sense he needs the space so you give it to him.

It’s after you step out of the shower one night after shift that you find him sitting there on your couch.

“Hi.” You say quietly and he tilts his head away because looking at you, it’s painful.

“I don’t understand why.” He tells you, swallowing hard against the well of emotion in his chest. “I don’t understand what you see in me, why you would want me.”

“Love…” You say softly. “It’s not conditional, it’s raw, messy…”

You trail off because you realise you’re not actually answering the question and Diego, he needs you to be direct.

“You have a good heart.” You say finally. “You try to hide it but it bleeds out all the time, the way you are with the kids at the gym, the ones that need the extra time and attention. The fact you always give food to Derek, the guy on the stoop. There’s such compassion in you...”

You shake your head.

“But you don’t see any of that because you’ve been taught not to because it makes you easier to control, to manipulate if you feel like your worthless but you’re not worthless, you have incredible value, to me, to other people. You just have to start believing that.”

He can read between the lines, the things that you’re not saying, the things that will trigger him, make him run. His father’s disinterest has damaged him, obliterated his self-worth. He can barely remember a time where he was happy, that darkness didn’t ghost his footsteps. However the past few months with you…

There’s been a lightness in him, a warmth that he hasn’t felt before. When he’s with you, he feels safe, cared for. Diego has never had that stability, he’s never had someone that sees him as Diego, not Number 2.

He leaves again that night, through the window and you sigh because you can take a horse to water but you can’t make it drink.

It’s a couple of hours later that you wake up to find him slipping under the sheets, his warm body curls around yours as he gathers you close, burying his face into the curve of your throat. Your fingers entwine with his, holding them close to your heart.

“You’re the only one that sees me.” He tells you as his lips brush over your skin. “The only one who knows who I really am.”

Love Diego? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#diego hargreeves #diego hargreaves x reader #number 2 #number two #tua #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy

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findusinaweek · 1 year

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Having ac odyssey again is making me a more insane person. Who could have guessed it?

#suddenly addicted to photomode?!#alexios why is your shack equipped with carpentry and blacksmithing things?#alexios canonically dries herbs?! chamomile and mint?!#to drink. AEIDE HE IS MAKING TISANES!?#alexios why do you have so much paper/papyrus?#who taught alexios to read?!#he has a laundry basket whyyyyy #i think he starts projects and never finishes them and thats why his shack is a wreck but I think he is fixing it up for Phoibe #alexios why are you burning bodies next to your house?#alexios stop dying from falling off stuff #forgot wolves are op #I'm not playing the game I'm googling stuff and getting emotional #Alexios stop drowning jfc #I got lost in the Cave of Tethys #how?!?!?!#I'm never going to make it to Korinthia #Ahhhhhhhhhhhh #I almost started a Kassandra run but I just love Alexios so much and I thought he deserved to get a chance to see Brasidas #I'm so excited my stomach hurts #i want to write #ahhhhhhhHHHHHHHH #I miss Brasidas #I HAVE NOT SEEN HIM IN GAME SINCE....DECEMBER?????!????#brain rot brain rot brain rot brain rot brain rot brain rot brain rot brain rot brain rot #I'm genuinely making myself so excited I'm nauseous #cala a boca adrian

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sitronsangbody · 4 days

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Please, please be considerate of your fat friends' needs and limitations. Fat bodies are heavy to carry around. I move about the world slower than my thin peers, and I've often had to choose between pushing myself to keep a pace that takes absolutely all my energy, or being left behind, when walking in a group. I don't always feel safe to ask that everyone walk slower, because there's a prevalent idea in society that fat people need to exert themselves as much as possible at all times in the service of weight loss, and that we never "really" need rest, therefore it's a good thing whenever we're exhausted. Fat people and thin people alike are taught that fatness is a flaw, one that fat people ourselves are to blame for, so we're not entitled to any accommodation or consideration. A friend of mine who is fat recently told me about a dinner party she went to where the chairs were far too small for her and she was sitting very uncomfortably. After the meal she politely suggested moving the party to the couch, but the others didn't want to. She spent another couple of hours in unnecessary pain, and didn't dare tell them about it. I love my thin friends, but some of them just don't realize that I weigh probably twice as much as them, and yet I balance it all on the same size feet and carry it on about the same size bones. I'm like if they had a whole other them to carry around at all times. Why would that not have an impact on how I function? Please - take us into consideration when we're part of activities. Ask us which activities work and which don't. Adjust the pace so no one has to be dry heaving and sweating barrels on what's supposed to be a casual walk. Make sure venues have seating that fits us. Make it safe for us to speak up if we need something. When we do, don't treat us like we're the problem. Finally: yes, we have heard of losing weight. Even those of us who might (and many never will, whether you like it or not), won't do it on a moment's notice. If your response to "fat people deserve accommodations" is "what if they weren't fat though", you're playing a fantasy game. It's pointless. We are fat and we are here and we do partake in society. Work with that.

#fat liberation #fatphobia #musings

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inkskinned · 11 months

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the thing is that they're so fascinated by sex, they love sex, they can't imagine a world without sex - they need sex to sell things, they need sex to be part of their personality, they need sex to prove their power - but they hate sex. they are disgusted by it.

sex is the only thing that holds their attention, and it is also the thing that can never be discussed directly.

you can't tell a child the normal names for parts of their body, that's sexual in nature, because the body isn't a body, it's a vessel of sex. it doesn't matter that it's been proven in studies (over and over) that kids need to know the names of their genitals; that they internalize sexual shame at a very young age and know it's 'dirty' to have a body; that it overwhelmingly protects children for them to have the correct words to communicate with. what matters is that they're sexual organs. what matters is that it freaks them out to think about kids having body parts - which only exist in the context of sex.

it's gross to talk about a period or how to check for cancer in a testicle or breast. that is nasty, illicit. there will be no pain meds for harsh medical procedures, just because they feature a cervix.

but they will put out an ad of you scantily-clad. you will sell their cars for them, because you have abs, a body. you will drip sex. you will ooze it, like a goo. like you were put on this planet to secrete wealth into their open palms.

they will hit you with that same palm. it will be disgusting that you like leather or leashes, but they will put their movie characters in leather and latex. it will be wrong of you to want sexual freedom, but they will mark their success in the number of people they bed.

they will crow that it's inappropriate for children so there will be no lessons on how to properly apply a condom, even to teens. it's teaching them the wrong things. no lessons on the diversity of sexual organ growth, none on how to obtain consent properly, none on how to recognize when you feel unsafe in your body. if you are a teenager, you have probably already been sexualized at some point in your life. you will have seen someone also-your-age who is splashed across a tv screen or a magazine or married to someone three times your age. you will watch people pull their hair into pigtails so they look like you. so that they can be sexy because of youth. one of the most common pornography searches involves newly-18 young women. girls. the words "barely legal," a hiss of glass sand over your skin.

barely legal. there are bills in place that will not allow people to feel safe in their own bodies. there are people working so hard to punish any person for having sex in a way that isn't god-fearing and submissive. heteronormative. the sex has to be at their feet, on your knees, your eyes wet. when was the first time you saw another person crying in pornography and thought - okay but for real. she looks super unhappy. later, when you are unhappy, you will close your eyes and ignore the feeling and act the role you have been taught to keep playing. they will punish the sex workers, remove the places they can practice their trade safely. they will then make casual jokes about how they sexually harass their nanny.

and they love sex but they hate that you're having sex. you need to have their ornamental, perfunctory, dispassionate sex. so you can't kiss your girlfriend in the bible belt because it is gross to have sex with someone of the same gender. so you can't get your tubes tied in new england because you might change your mind. so you can't admit you were sexually assaulted because real men don't get hurt, you should be grateful. you cannot handle your own body, you cannot handle the risks involved, let other people decide that for you. you aren't ready yet.

but they need you to have sex because you need to have kids. at 15, you are old enough to parent. you are not old enough to hear the word fuck too many times on television.

they are horrified by sex and they never stop talking about it, thinking about it, making everything unnecessarily preverted. the saying - a thief thinks everyone steals. they stand up at their podiums and they look out at the crowd and they sign a bill into place that makes sexwork even more unsafe and they stand up and smile and sign a bill that makes gender-affirming care illegal and they get up and they shrug their shoulders and write don't say gay and they get up, and they make the world about sex, but this horrible, plastic vision of it that they have. this wretched, emotionless thing that holds so much weight it's staggering. they put their whole spine behind it and they push and they say it's normal!

this horrible world they live in. disgusted and also obsessed.

#this shifts gender so much bc it actually affects everyone #yes it's a gendered phenomenon. i have written a LOT about how different genders experience it. that's for a different post.#writeblr #ps my comments about seeing someone cry -- this is not to shame any person #and on this blog we support workers.#at the same time it's a really hard experience to see someone that looks like you. clearly in agony. and have them forced to keep going.#when you're young it doesn't necessarily look like acting. it looks scary. and that's what this is about - the fact that teens #have likely already been exposed to that definition of things. because the internet exists #and without the context of healthy education. THAT is the image burned into their minds about what it looks like.#it's also just one of those personal nuanced biases -#at 19 i thought it was normal to be in pain. to cry. to not-like-it. that it should be perfunctory.#it was what i had seen.#and it didn't help that my religious upbringing was like . 'yeah that's what you get for premarital. but also for the reference #we do think you should never actually enjoy it lol'#so like the point im making is that ppl get exposed to that stuff without the context of something more tender #and assume .... 'oh. so it's fine i am not enjoying myself'. and i know they do because I DID.#he was my first boyfriend. how was i supposed to know any different #i didn't even have the mental wherewithal to realize im a lesbian . like THAT used to suffering.

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slvttyplum · 2 months

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you were sugurus best eater and no one could compare, you being able to suck his soul out of his body was one of the reasons he decided to make you his partner, which is wrong on his part and is also why he would never tell you that part.

before the both of you made it official, you both would hook up with each other and the way you made his eyes roll back and his toes curl was ungodly, he couldn't even moan one good time before he was cumming in your mouth.

he loved the way your cheeks hollowed out, and your tongue teased the tip while your hands played with his balls. no one ever had a technique when it came to sucking his dick, so it would just be a whole sloppy mess, but the way you did it was different.

the goal you have when sucking his dick was to make him cum as fast as possible, because let's be honest, sucking dick can be exhausting unless you absolutely love it, so having his big dick in your mouth for a long time wasn't the greatest time, but his cum was a great reward.

sugurus mind was blown when your tongue first made contact with the tip of his dick, and all in that same mind sequence his cum was landing in the back of your throat, he couldn't let this go.

everyone else sucked dick like they really didn't want to, the only goal for them was to look hot while doing it, and it only failed. whenever you did it, although you were doing it quickly, you had a technique that worked every time, and you looked sexy all at the same time.

he wanted your mouth latched onto his length every day and every second of the day. the best part is that you didn't know the thoughts that swirled around in his mind, about how he wanted to lock you up and keep you for himself.

when you two weren't together he would get jealous at the thought of you sucking someone up like you did to him, and it made his blood boil, that mouth should be for him and him only and that's exactly what he did.

“who taught you how to do that?” is a passive-aggressive question he would ask you every time he came into your mouth with no delay. who taught this gorgeous person in front of him how to suck dick that good.

once you reassured him that you practiced with yourself and got the technique from yourself, his worries withered away, and his dick grew in size, teaching yourself how to do something so lewd and nasty, it turned him on.

turned him on to have those pretty lips latched around his length and his eyes looking down at yours as they get watery and your throat getting tight as you stuff him down.

everything you did was so effortlessly perfect, he just couldn't get enough.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk x you #x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk suguru #jjk geto #suguru geto #jujutsu kaisen suguru #geto suguru #suguru geto smut #getou suguru x reader #jujutsu geto #geto #geto x reader #geto smut #suguru

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tojipie · 6 months

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toji x crybaby reader <3

content: hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, smut under the cut !

˚ ✧ ───────────

toji is a flawed man.

short-tempered, married to his money, slow to show affection. but the one thing he does excel at is comforting you.

he knows you’re a sensitive girl, knows just how easy it is for you to get teary-eyed and red in the face over comments that otherwise seem like nothing to the untrained ear.

you have a kind heart is all, too giving to a world that only knows how to take. he tells you that every time you break down in his arms, thick hands rubbing circles into the small of your back.

his father would have slapped him across the face for crying. called him soft, whiney like a girl. put him to work for the rest of the day to shape him into a man.

he wasn’t his father though, and you weren’t a zenin.

you were soft in the best way, tender-hearted and too trusting. a daisy among weeds, swaying idly in the too-strong wind. nothing like a zenin, nothing like him.

he hadn’t the faintest clue what to do the first time he’d seen you get upset, standing there in the kitchen like a fool while you babbled on the phone with his bank.

it was a fraudulent charge, small, maybe only 10 dollars. probably dropped his card while paying for gas again, not the end of the world. the customer service rep assured you that much.

it was the principal, you sobbed. you’d lost his card and hadn’t even noticed. why wasn’t he upset with you?

he doesn’t know why he didn’t just tell you it was okay. that he didn’t have it in him to ever be cross with you, be it a ten-dollar charge or a thousand-dollar charge.

instead he wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling your body flush with his to press soft kisses to the crown of your head.

you were warm there, warm everywhere really. the thrum of your blood heating your skin from the inside out. toji liked that about you, how you offset the perpetual cold of his much larger hands.

physical touch was something he knew well. toji wasn’t—still isn’t good with words, opting to stay silent and just hold you while you sniffled into the receiver. he got the message across, he always does.

his methods are unorthodox for that very reason. he doesn’t comfort you with his tone, he does it with his body. whether it be thick arms squeezing you until you get your breathing under control, large hands tracing shapes into your tummy until you stop spluttering, or toned legs splaying wide to let you crawl into his lap, resting on him until your bodies reach the same temperature.

toji fucks you on your good days, likes to tease you, get you squirming. the key difference is that he makes sweet love to you on your bad ones. holding you flush to his chest while he rocks into you under the safety of your shared blankets.

you feel like a furnace under him every time, heat radiating off your body and into the deeper parts of his soul.

he gets mouthy once the feeling of you wrapped around him flicks that little switch in his brain. turning off the mental barrier between him and his inability to use his words.

“sweet girl,” is what he calls you, eyes never leaving yours.

“gotta stay close to me, gotta keep you safe, huh?”

and keep you safe he does, tucking your face into the curve of his neck so you don’t have to look anywhere but him. letting you moan, and pant, and sigh into his skin while he rocks against that special spot situated deep in your core.

he goes harder when you ask him to. not faster, but harder—he knows the difference, letting the resistance in his hips subside so he can sink to the hilt over and over.

the juxtaposition makes his head spin. how do you manage to sound so sweet while asking for something like that? able to melt his heart even on the brink of orgasm.

you kiss him when he fills you up, letting him sink on top of you with a huff and a shy laugh. he listens as you open up about the good parts of your day, his soft hums of agreement spurring you on.

toji wishes he was taught to articulate himself better. he’s trying, he really is. though the “i love you” he says into your skin seems like his best shot at a start.

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kenananamin · 7 months

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Tie my tie, marry me

Summary: The moment Nanami knew he never wanted to tie his tie by himself ever again and wanted to spend the rest of his life by your side. fluffy, nanami x fem!reader, nanami already loves everything you do but something about tying his tie was so intimate and special to him

It had been a year since Nanami officially asked you to be his girlfriend, but you had just started staying over during the weekdays. If either of you would stay at each other's houses, it would only be during the weekends when you both knew the next day could be dedicated to each other. Only recently had that unspoken rule changed.

You had both gone to the mall to shop for your new professional wardrobe and Nanami asked if he could buy a few extra things for you to keep at his house. You both knew what that implied and told him he could buy it, only if you could buy some stuff for him to keep at your house. You had both never been happier to spend more time and money at a crowded mall.

Nanami woke up a bit later for work than usual because of a power outage that turned off his alarm clock and did not charge his phone. You went into work after he did so you make his coffee and pack his lunch while he took a quick shower. You run into the bathroom to let him know he had less than 15 more minutes.

He steps out of the shower and grabs his razor to shave. You reach for the hairdryer he bought for you to keep at his house and start to dry his hair as he quickly shaves. You run out and start to rummage through his closet to set his clothes on the bed. Nanami finishes shaving and follows you out to get dressed.

"Shirt first, hurry," you take the shirt off the hanger and throw it to him.

Nanami begins to button the shirt when you get in front of him and start pulling his collar up and putting his tie around his neck. He looks at you with a questioning look and you quickly explain, "My dad taught me how to tie a tie. Never thought it'd come in handy since I never knew anyone who regularly wore a tie before you." You laugh at the memory but continue what you were doing to avoid making your boyfriend late.

Nanami however... his fingers stop buttoning his shirt. He looks at you, concentration and rush covering your features, but your fingers gently grazed his skin as you looped his tie. She's the first person to ever tie it for me, Nanami thinks. He had to learn how to do it from a video and was later corrected by some older male coworkers who showed him with their own ties.

The events of that morning finally dawn on him. You jumped out of bed right after you felt him jump out and started rushing around the apartment with him. He hadn't even mentioned that he was late, but you opened your eyes and knew what to do. He could smell the coffee from the room and heard the clanking of the leftover containers being opened and slid across counters from the shower. You dried his hair knowing that his route to work was not long enough to let it dry itself, and you took out exactly what he would have worn that day while he shaved. And now... there you stood before him, helping him tie his tie so his hands could do other things.

It seemed so... small. It was so small, so truly insignificant in the scale of life, something that could not hold weight in the world or change anything in the universe. But it changed his life, it was his favorite view in the world, and it would become his universe.

You look up at him and see him staring... and his hands not moving?! You move his hands away from the buttons and rush to finish buttoning it down. He takes your face in his hands and leans down to kiss you slowly. So very slow and soft. It stops you completely and you wrap your arms around his waist, relishing in the smell of his aftershave and body wash. Nanami deepens the kiss and moves an arm around your waist to pull you in closer. As much as you love when he pulls you in, the movement pulls you out of the kiss trance.

"Oh my god, Kento, hurry!! You're late, you're late!"

You step back and shove his pants into his arms. You tell him to hurry and that you'd grab his shoes to put by the door. You start yelling across the apartment that it would rain the entire afternoon and he needed to take the umbrella.

Nanami listens as you rustle through the closet looking for the umbrella and the light thud of what might have been his lunch bag and coffee thermal on the entryway table. He walks out the room putting on his suit jacket and sees you lightly jumping while telling him to hurry with his shoes.

Nanami leans down to tie his shoes but pauses after he's done. He goes to touch your bare leg since you hadn't even gotten dressed after waking up. You only wore his large shirt and underwear. He kneels and carefully lifts one leg to kiss your knee. He looks up from his kneeling position and says, "Thank you for helping. You really didn't have to."

His loving eyes close slightly while you lean down to give him one kiss as your response. "You're late," you whisper against his lips.

Nanami stands and takes his things while waving bye to you and your bed head. He heads out the door and begins a light jog to catch his regular train.

Yeap, she's the one, Nanami thinks.

Nanami spent his lunch break at the jewelry shop looking at rings that would look beautiful on your finger. There were so many engagement rings that would look gorgeous on you, but one caught his eye as he imagined that ring slightly moving on your finger as you tied his tie.

"I like that one. Do you have a size (your ring size) in stock?"

Nanami buys the ring at that moment and texts you to ask if he could come over to your house after work. He does not plan to propose on a regular Tuesday evening with no special plans, but he wants to hug you, smell your lovely perfume, take you some flowers, and give you a special thanks for helping him. And maybe, maaaayybe (most likely), stay over at your house to help him with his tie again the next morning.

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criminalamnesia · 3 months

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Simon x Reader whose already work with TF 141 for a pretty long time. And one day, there's a traitor around the base, leaking their information. All of the proof are leading to reader but reader always deny it! And they interrogated reader, and reader always deny it! And he's (with other 141 members, of course, but it mostly him) do their torture methods to get information out of reader. They keep doing it until someday, the real traitor finally captured!

And make the reader traumatized, pls. Like, she would have trust issues, trauma, and others. She wouldn't forgive them, tho.

ooooo the angst. had to sit on this one for a few days before I wrote something, but here goes nothing.

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

when you blink open your eyes, the room is dimly lit. it’s silent save for the sounds of your labored breathing.

you must’ve passed out. one second johnny— a man you’d known for years—was slicing into your skin with a knife. the next, you’re staring into an empty room.

your hands jerk up involuntarily. still bound. the rope holding them to the arms of the chair have rubbed them raw. the skin is bright red and bloody. it makes you grit your teeth.

you look down at your lap, taking inventory of the parts of your body you can see. large gashes break up the fabric of your tac pants. the blood surrounding the deep wounds is dry and crusty.

one of the cuts looks like it’s getting infected. you swear you can see bone.

you’d taken this kind of suffering before. been capture by enemies, held and tortured and pushed to the brink of death. this was different. this was being done by your team. men you’d bled with. cried with. laughed with.

one you’d even slept with. the same one you loved. the one you called yours.

the door to the room swung open, hitting the wall with a metal thud. your head slowly lifts, eyes squinting to see him. by his stature, you know it’s simon.

he doesn’t bother shutting the door behind him. instead, he walks towards you slowly. as he comes closer, can make out his eyes in the sea of dark paint he smears around them. the same paint you’d helped him apply a time or two.

“back for more?” you say, and it’s meant to sound sarcastic, but all it sounds like is pitiful. your voice cracks, and pain seeps into your tone.

the first rule they’d taught you about scenarios like this was to never let the enemy know it’s working. never let them know that they’re hurting you— that they’re slowly wearing down your defenses.

well, you’d just broken that rule, and you hadn’t even meant to.

you didn’t know how long you’d been tied up, subjected to torture by men you had once called your family. all because a fucking liar whispered your name into their ears. all because they fucking believed it.

apparently the years meant nothing to them. to him, least of all, considering he’d done more damage to you than the rest of them.

simon comes to a stop in front of you. his hands are empty by his sides, but that’s not reassuring. there’s a table full of weapons off to the side. he would have his pick of the litter.

“ready to talk yet?” he says, and his voice is gruff. his tone is hollow. he’s speaking to you the same way he’d spoken to countless enemies. it makes you sick.

“fuck you, simon,” you spit out.

the betrayal of john, gaz, and johnny had hurt. but simon’s betrayal? that was enough to almost put you in the ground.

you’d stopped pleading with them the second they tied you to the chair. now, you were angry. furious. rage filled your veins, and if you weren’t beaten to all hell, you’d find a way out of these fucking restraints and strangle the man in front of you to death.

the man you loved. you’d thought you meant something to him, but apparently not— because who tortures someone they love?

“if you talk,” he ignores your outburst. “it’ll be easier. quick.”

“fuck. you.” you enunciate the words, your jaw impossibly tight as you grit your teeth. “im not the fucking rat.”

“all the evidence,” he starts as he disappears from your vision. you know he’s going to pick his weapon of the hour. you force yourself not to shudder.

“points to you.”

“take that bullshit evidence and shove it up your ass, riley,” you seethe, ropes pulling taut as you lean forward in the chair.

he’s back in your line of sight now, brandishing a large knife.

“you’re only making it harder on yourself, love,” he tuts, and then he’s swinging the knife down, right onto one of your fingers.

you scream as the blade cuts right through skin and bone. your teeth dig into your lip, drawing blood as you refuse to give him more of a reaction. it fucking hurts, but you’ll be damned if you let yourself cry.

“feel like talking now?” he asks, watching as half of your left pinky finger falls to the floor.

“or should we take off another?”

you look up at him, hoping he can see the hatred in your eyes as you speak your next words. “you could take the fucking hand off and I’d still have nothing to tell you.”

“let’s see how true that is then, eh?” he replies, and raises the knife again. he’s about to swing, when someone comes running into the room.

“ghost!”

it’s johnny. he’s obviously winded as he stops beside simon, dropping his hands to his knees as he struggles for breath.

“what, mactavish? im busy.”

“they’re—” he gasps. “they’re not— the— rat.” he says between breaths.

the room goes impossibly still. so quiet you swear you could hear the men’s heartbeats (or maybe that pounding in your ears was your own).

“you sure?” simon’s voice is softer as he lowers the knife and turns to johnny. the younger man nods, his eyes trained on you. you can see the regret in them, the sorrow.

“it’s fucking shepard.”

it’s not funny, but at the news, you burst into laughter. the men stare at you in confusion, but you can’t stop.

you’re laughing so hard you’re crying, and they’re just standing there.

“are you alrigh’?” johnny’s asking as he moves towards you. he’s fully recovered his breath now, and he drops to a crouch to be eye level with you.

you don’t answer— you can’t. you keep laughing. distantly, you hear the knife simon was holding clatter to the ground. can just make out the sound of more footsteps out in the hallway, coming towards the room.

you pass out.

when you wake up again, you’re in the infirmary. your eyes open slowly, adjusting to the bright fluorescent lights.

“easy, love,” a voice to your right drawls.

your eyes are fully open now. you look down at yourself, noticing the lack of bindings. noticing the iv taped to your arm, the stitched cuts, the black and blue bruises, the missing fingernails and missing finger.

the person sitting next to you clears his throat. that’s when you look up and meet the eyes of your captain.

your captain. the man who was supposed to lead you, to keep you safe. what a fucking joke. he’d started the damn witch hunt.

“how d’you feel?” he asks, his words soft, like he’s trying not to scare off a timid animal.

you stare at him for a beat. then two. then you’re moving, pulling the iv from your arm and shakily pushing yourself up in the bed. price is telling you to stop, reaching out to push you back down, but you slap at his hands.

“get the fuck off me!” you shout, and that takes him aback. he stops, frozen, as he watches you shift in the bed. you throw your legs over the side of it and prepare yourself to stand.

“you really shouldn’t—” he begins after he’s regained his senses, but you pay him no mind. you place your feet on the ground and start to stand. your legs wobble, almost give out, but you’re able to stand. barely.

“shut up,” you growl, stumbling forward and towards the exit. he’s moving to cut you off, and you slide him a gaze that’s sharper than a knife. “and leave me the fuck alone.”

he halts again. he seems almost scared of you— but that can’t be right. even on your best days, he would still beat you in hand-to-hand combat.

he’s not scared of your threats or your frail body. he’s scared of what he’s done to you.

just then, johnny and gaz come through the infirmary doors.

“cap, y’alright? we heard yellin’—” johnny begins, but his mouth snaps shut at the sight of you out of bed.

you’re heaving from your spot next to the bed. your legs are shaking violently, threatening to give out any second. you feel nauseous and numb.

“let’s get you back into bed,” gaz says, and he starts towards you, but you stop him as your gaze snaps to his.

“don’t come any fucking closer. any of you.”

“bonnie,” johnny murmurs. he sounds miserable, but you don’t care. don’t give a fuck about how any of them feel.

“don’t. im leaving,” you grunt out, moving a foot forward slowly. you’d be damned if you fell in front of them.

“you can’t, love. you’re in no shape to be walking.” john says, and you snarl.

“and whose fault is that?”

the men stay silent as they watch you slowly shuffle towards the foot of the bed. you’re bracing yourself to walk on your own when simon walks in.

“get back in bed,” his tone is blunt. you ignore him.

you remove your hand from the bed, move to take a step forward without support, and you begin to crumple to the floor.

simon moves forward, quick as a cat, and catches you. he lifts you into his arms bridal style, and you’re screaming hysterically. your limbs are flailing the best they can in such a battered state. you’re in fight-or-flight mode, your body betraying your desire to put up a steely front.

your palms slap against simon’s upper body and his masked face. he gives no reaction. he doesn’t say anything. the others are watching the exchange silently. the room is buzzing with tension.

“get off me!” you screech, landing a slap to simon’s cheek. “let me— let me go! let me go!” you’re gasping for breath, tears streaming down your cheeks. you’re panicking. your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest.

“put me down! get— get— off me! stop—” you sob.

the doctor rushes into the room then, yelling at the men for allowing you out of bed. you can’t make out what she’s saying over the rush of blood in your ears. you feel light-headed. you can’t breathe.

“put them down, now!” the doctor yells at simon. “they’re having a panic attack— I thought I told you four to stay away from them? they’re too vulnerable right now—” the doctor is chastising them as simon places you back in the bed.

spots are dancing in your vision. you don’t even feel it when the doctor sticks another needle into your arm. the words being exchanged above your head are muffled. it’s like you’re underwater.

john’s face comes into view, then johnny’s, then gaz’s. as your eyes start to close, you notice the only face you don’t see again is simon’s.

when you wake up again, it’s been two weeks.

the doctor had put you into a medically induced coma to allow your more serious wounds time to heal, without risking another episode. unbeknownst to you, the members of your team had stayed by your bedside almost the entire time— minus simon. he hadn’t come within ten feet of the infirmary since the day of your panic attack.

there’s fresh flowers on the bedside table. a steady beeping of the heart monitor. a fuzzy feeling in your head.

it feels like a dream, all of it does. none of it feels real as you settle into your body again. but then the hurt starts, and you remember the truth.

your family betrayed you. your lover betrayed you. they locked you up and tortured you. they didn’t believe you.

when the doctor came to your side to check your iv, she smiled.

“how’re you feeling?”

you look up at her, and it takes a moment for you to speak.

“don’t,” you begin. your mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. “don’t let them…in here. don’t…wanna see them.”

the doctor nods in understanding, and she doesn’t say anything else to you. she turns and walks out of the room.

the door clicks shut behind her. she lets out a sigh before turning around to face the three men.

“they don’t want to see you.” she tells them, and their expressions drop. they don’t protest, and like wounded puppies, they walk off.

no one else comes to check on you for a few hours.

you’re in and out of consciousness— can’t tell what’s real and what’s a dream. flashes of your torture come back to you. flashes of a smile. of a scarred face. of hands on your hips and—

you crack your eyes open, and the room is dark. the only light is the blinking of some of the machines. it illuminates the room enough to allow you to see a large, dark figure slip from the room. the door clicks shut so quietly it’s almost imperceptible.

that’s when you notice fresh flowers on the bedside table.

your eyes start to droop once more, and you chalk up whatever you just saw to a dream, while simon exhales heavily on the other side of the infirmary door.

————————————————

authors note:

I hope this alright! it’s one in the morning (and I’m half asleep writing this) so I apologize for the errors that are most likely present, and the sense this most likely lacks. I feel like I could write a whole book about this idea, but im cutting myself off to sleep lol.

thank you for the ask, I hope I did your idea justice. 🫶

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screampied · 1 month

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heyy vaygas how u doin babes?

first of, LOVE your work!!! the dads friend fic? can’t get over it, still did not recover!

can i ask for a mean dom nanami that makes you squirt through your panties and bullies u for it? 🥺 while enjoying himself as well hehe like “look at the mess u made/how messy u are” vibes

thx 💗

❤︎ ໋𓈒 nanami making you squirt for the first time.

warnings. fem! reader, praise, tried making him mean but he’s still soft :>, squirtin, dirty talk, talking you through it, mdni. an. 'm good!! thank u sm!

“make you do what, sweetheart?” he’d murmur right up against your ear. you felt a chill run up your spine the moment he presses a soft kiss near the inside corner of your neck. he was so gentle with his touch, you laid back against him with your legs practically parted—sprawled all open. “tell me what you want from me. talk to me nice.”

a near pout stretched against the corners of your lips before you reply with a sigh, “i- i want you to make me squirt again,” and you dragged out your words just a tad bit. his body heat behind you was immensely hot, warm even. “can never do it right by myself.”

“ah. course you can’t,” he purrs in a low melodic soothing tone. nanami’s fingers strum against the outer part of your panties and your breath achingly hitches. “say pretty please. use those manners, sweetheart. taught you well, did i not?”

he was practically insufferable, although he always did like the sound of your voice. “pretty please,” you reply with a quickness, feeling your knees merely buckle. he was a tease, brushing a few fingers near the middle part of your underwear. “pretty please, i want you to make a mess out of me.”

“atta girl,” he whispers, kissing the back of your forehead. and that’s the moment when he gently squeezes near your thigh, uttering out a playful. “now lie back ‘n i’ll do just that.”

“can i— may i take off my panties?” you breathe, moaning once he gingerly brings his right hand to softly grip near your breasts.

he grazes a thumb to run against your perky nipple before giving it a nice squeeze. he finds it cute, the way you’re so helplessly needy, squirming all against him just so he can start. your entire head was clouded, you hold in a sharp breath before a whine skims past your lips.

“nooo, darling,” he denies you, and that was probably the most sweetest ‘no’ you’ve ever been told before. his other hand that resided between your thighs starts to softly create strokes against your clit. he hums, feeling the nearly faded dampened spot, oh how soaked you were. “good girls get their panties removed. we aren’t past that part yet, are we not?”

you pout, another sweetened sigh leaving out of you. “but i said pretty please.”

“and i heard you the first time, my love,” he says, and you whimper once he feels all over your chest. his rough fingers had such a softness to it, you hadn’t even realized how prematurely soaked you were. it was a bit of playful sass to his tone, you swallow before rubbing the back of your head against his chest. “now. let me make you my messy girl as promised, ‘n i’ll think about removing this pretty panties, okay?”

“… okay.”

nanami lowly chuckles, and you lean back against him the moment he starts to create a bit of stimulation against your clit.

“oh, don’t be so disappointed,” and he starts slow strokes. deep filthy strokes, you wanted for him to just remove your panties … but alas, that wouldn’t happen just yet. nanami created a plethora of chaste kisses near the inner part of your neck whilst your legs twitch in pleasure. you were far too sensitive, moaning each time his tongue softly drags against the sweet soft parts of your neck. you were addicting, equivalent to a drug. nanami loved to kiss up and down your neck, leave all kinds of marks only for him to see. “you want me to go rougher? ‘s that why you keep whining?”

“p-please,” you concur, with a needy nod, feeling him bring a hand near your neck now. thick fingers swiftly of his wrap until you wear his hand that went around your throat like a necklace.

you wanted him to just be a tad bit rougher, just a little. you loved him being gentle, you did. but you also liked when he’d be a little mean. the times where nanami would come home from work stressed and full of fatigue. letting him taking everything out on your sweet pussy, his ultimate cure for stress relief. he was forever grateful for you. “more, kento. ‘wan more, choke me harder.”

his hand that went around your throat had a firm grip to it, a thumb of his softly swipes down the middle part of your throat and he turns your head for a kiss. you were panting heavily, each dramatic breath that left your mouth only grew substantially louder. “such a nasty fuckin’ girl. can feel you pulse all through your panties, sweetheart.”

“kento,” you’d whimper, reaching down to touch his wrist — but he lightly smacks it, earning a sweet whine from you.

“nuh uh. no touching. ‘s only for my hands,” he husks, making his strokes against your panties go ten times faster, the tempo was so vigorous that your moans became even more vocal. “silly girl. did you forget already? you have to ask to touch yourself.”

swallowing an invisible thick lump, you mewl out a sweet, “can i—”

“no baby,” he chortles, finding it cute at your attempt to even ask directly after the fact. nanami could essentially hear the pout curl amongst your lips before your eyebrows form into a perturbed adorable furrow. you were coming close, you knew that very much all too well.

it was coming at such a high chasing pace that you could barely keep up with your own breaths. even at his attempt of being ‘mean’ he was still so sweet. he couldn’t help it, especially if it was with you.

pathetically so, you felt yourself twitching within his hold. nanami’s hand that went around your throat softly massages the part where you breathe, he could feel the candied vibrations of your own moans leave out every few seconds. it was his favorite sound, forevermore his favorite tune to even hear.

“close, are you?” he simpers, and he’s using his entire hand at this point, maneuvering such rough circles against your clit. the cloth of your panties that protected it made you pout, you desperately yearned for it to just be taken off already. “mhm. wait, be quiet for a sec.”

all that could be heard was the sound of your cute exasperated breaths and the squelches that came from your soaked pussy. the fabric of your underwear was thin, basically shielding hardly anything.

“listen to her with me,” he whispers against your neck, referring to your pussy. he’s coating you with various more kisses to make you twitch and throb for more. “she’s needy for me. sloppy ‘n everything, so desperate to make a fuckin’ mess on her husband.”

“k-kentooo,” you’d moan, and his hand that was wrapped around your throat shifts its attention back towards your chest. he squeezes your right tit, massaging all around it before prodding a thumb against your nipple. “f-fuck i feel it.”

your orgasm gradually builds up, it’s like a wave that continued to rise and rise.

your thighs, even your legs began to quaver and by now, you were all slumped up against nanami. his words went straight towards your cunt, ringing all through your ears. even his dirty talk was bittersweet, rich and simply enchanting. “come on,” he sighs lowly, feeling himself start to get hard just from your pleasure. “give it to me. be a good nasty girl ‘n let go on me.”

everything came on a whim, your legs felt so numb and shook before whether moments—you felt yourself finally release.

a sudden slick gush runs out of you, and your panties were even more soaked now. you felt so flushed. the stupidest expression on your face, hooded eyes, maw dangled open as you’re panting heavily … it was a sight.

the dampened spot near the entrance of your underwear was so cute. he chuckles, strumming a thumb against that specific spot while you’re riding out your orgasm, legs vigorously still shaking from impact.

“…my oh my,” he sings, and that’s when he finally pulls your panties towards the side. nanami runs a finger down your slit before giving it a playful pinch just to hear you whimper out. “what a mess.”

“such a messy girl i’ve got myself here,” he continues, and then he slowly sinks a finger into your folds. “mhm. do you wanna be even messier for me though? we can always try it again, without the panties this time, my love.”

#★vegasbaby.#nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami x you #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #anime smut #female reader

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